#this boy would struggle with Yorkshire puddings

[buffyspice]

At this point, I think even British food would be too spicy for this manchild we call Bang Chan:

Meanwhile, Chan's ancestors looking down on him:

[bwbatta]

four - believable

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: this is super fluffy beware

Word count: 3944

A/N: well, I’m back and BOY do I have a good one for you! Christmasy vibes are at 100% as I’m struggling to believe Christmas has actually been and gone, hopefully this will fulfil your Christmas Draco cravings! 

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 3

If you thought people gossiped too much about the rumour of Draco and you being in a relationship before it was even confirmed, the gossip that was instigated from your kiss in the middle of the Great Hall was on another level.

No one said it to your face but everyone thought the chemistry between the two of you surely couldn’t have been faked.

Little did they know though, right?!

Whispers died down after a couple weeks of seeing the two of you walk around holding hands or with Draco’s arm over your shoulder pulling you close in his grip.

In fact the two of you touching in some way became such a constant that it almost felt odd when his hand wasn’t resting on your leg while you were together.

The one thing that wasn’t so weird to come from the game you two had going on, was how Pansy had dialled down her desperate attempts to seduce the blonde Malfoy heir.

Sure she still tried when you weren’t around, but it was a lot less than before and all her attempts were rebuffed and ignored by Draco.

After about a month, her attempts had dwindled and come to a halt.

Not that the two of you noticed that much.

You both had to admit, you enjoyed how things were with each other right now, not that you’d tell the other.

“Hey Sweetheart”

Broken out of your thoughts you looked up to see the familiar blonde approaching you with a grin on his face.

The two of you saw each other earlier that day for breakfast and then later for Potions, but since you both chose different courses, you didn’t have the time to cross paths again until later that evening.

You had been flicking through an astronomy textbook, attempting to finally finish your essay in the Library. Christmas was fast approaching which meant so were final deadlines for the term. Mostly you were fine with the workload you had, thanks to a specific muggleborn Gryffindor who had kept you on track, yet astronomy was kicking your arse.

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t tell your constellations apart from your galaxies.

“Hi” you sighed in reply causing the boy to frown

“That doesn’t sound very happy”

“That’s because this Astronomy essay is making me want to knock myself out with a telescope” you rested your head on your arms dejectedly. “It would be less painful.”

Draco didn’t stop the snort escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes at your dramatics and grabbed your excuse of an essay. With a snicker he shot you an amused look at the last line you’d written on the parchment, aka when you’d really given up all hope.

“’The Sirius constellation looks like a dog but you can’t really tell which breed’?! You’re honestly going to give this in?!” he laughed 

“You can’t tell though!”

“Well first, Sirius is a star not a constellation and second the constellation it’s in is obviously a terrier.”

“How helpful” 

His grey eyes shot you an amused look before gathering up your books and papers and put them away in your bag. Grabbing your hand he pulled you up and out of the Library which you groaned at, complaining you needed to finish your essay.

“I know” he just responded, pulling you close to him by your hands before detaching them and dropping his arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the process as he saw a gaggle of Ravenclaws pass you on their way to the Library. “Let’s grab some dinner and then I’ll help you with your essay.”

The kitchens weren’t as busy as usual as dinner was already happening, but still busy enough to have three house elves approach the two of you asking what they could get you.

“Two plates of roast beef, one with extra roast potatoes, the other with extra yorkshire puddings.”

Immediately your stomach growled at the thought of the food to your embarrassment. You really hadn’t realised how hungry you’d gotten.

Almost in no time at all, two steaming hot plates of food were given to you and the two of you made your way to the astronomy tower, taking a seat on the floor so you could take in the view of the setting sun.

“Why are we here? I thought we’d go back to the Library or common room to finish the essay?”

“How else am I gonna teach you the constellations if you can’t see them?!”

You were taken aback a little.

“You’re teaching me by pointing them out? How do you know astronomy?”

“The entirety of my family are named after stars and constellations on my mother’s side. It was something I just knew growing up because she taught me from when I was young.”

“So there’s a star called Draco?”

“A constellation actually” he mused, “it’s suppose to look like a dragon.”

“Suppose to?”

“Looks more like a snake if I’m honest”

The subject changed over dinner to other things you’d each thought of or heard throughout the day, when you hadn’t seen each other. Apparently the head boy and head girl had been caught by McGonagall in a broom closet getting frisky.

There had also been a fight which had broken out in the Herbology greenhouses which resulted in a mandrake pot being shattered and everyone fainting because of the screams from the young plant.

The real highlight of the day however, was the rumour of the Ancient Runes professor showing an interest in one of the sixth year Hufflepuffs.

“Contrary to popular belief, those Hufflepuffs aren’t as innocent as everyone might be led to believe” Draco snickered as you slapped his arm jokingly.

“I can’t believe a professor here would do that thought!”

“We’ve had worse teachers, lets be honest” he laughed. “Lets recall our last five years shall we?!”

“First one was killed by Harry after having You-Know-Who on the back of his head, the second was a complete moron and obliviated himself- one was a werewolf! Then lets not forget the disguised death eater and then finally this year we’ve been delighted to have the pink toad as a teacher.” 

“I feel like we’ve really lucked out if I’m honest” Draco snorted as you snickered at the humoured sarcasm you shared.

A cold breeze shifted through the open tower when the sun finally set, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Deciding to only wear a thin jumper, forgoing your robes whilst you studied earlier may not have been the smartest idea once the two of you decided to eat at that destination.

Draco noticed and immediately leaned back against the wall, holding his arms out to you.

“Come here”

With a shuffle, you were under his arm, pressed against him as you settled into his side, his body heat being a welcoming factor.

“Merlin, you’re freezing” he frowned pulling you closer before conjuring up an emerald green blanket.

“Winter doesn’t really agree with me,” you joked “now tell me about these bloody constellations.”

“Well you’ve got the northern constellations and the southern ones. The northern include some such as Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Lyra and Pegasus. The southern have ones like Ara, Orion, and Canis’ Major and Minor.”

“Which one is Draco in?”

“Northern” he grinned down at you as you reciprocated his smile. “You then also have the zodiac constellations which are the 12 most commonly known ones.”

“Like Sagittarius, Aquarius and all that?”

“Yep. Within all those constellations, you’ve then got your stars.” 

The blonde boy explained the basics of the stars to you almost effortlessly as your gaze flicked back and forth from him to the sky, when he pointed out which section he was talking about.

He talked non stop about the stars and you couldn’t help but admire the Slytherin as he spoke of the subject. Draco wasn’t arrogantly top of the class like Hermione was, but he was in no way lacking in knowledge when it came to subjects he knew about like it was second nature.

Time passed you both by like the cool breeze that surrounded you, and before you knew it, hours had passed just being in each others company as he easily gave you enough clarity to finish off your essay, without even having to resort to drastic measures.

You also learnt so much more than any astronomy professor had taught you in all your years at Hogwarts.

Maybe that was just because they weren’t as captivating as the blonde beside you.

You wouldn’t say it out loud, but you knew exactly what your favourite constellation was after that evening, and it just so happened to look like a dragon.

Christmas drew closer and Draco was adamant on sticking to his side of the deal, so with a sigh he set off to Hogsmeade in search of the extensive list of Christmas gifts he had promised to get you. 

He had to appear like the perfect boyfriend after all.

Something was nagging at him though and it was constantly circling his mind as he trudged down in the frost to the village. 

It had been that evening when the two of you were in the astronomy tower and he was teaching you about the stars, when it had happened.

In the midst of his talking, he pointed out the Orion constellation before glancing down at you and pausing a second to catch his breath, not because he was chatting too much, but because in the vivid light of the moon, you were ethereal. 

He had whole heartedly planned to carry on talking, but the sight of you, curled up against him, with the moonlight highlighting your features, his breath was stolen from him. 

Almost in a trance he brushed the back of his fingers against your cheekbone causing you to snap your gaze to him, eyes wide at the delicate gesture.

Your wide eyes shocked him out of his state and immediately he paused awkwardly, racking his brain for some kind of excuse.

“Um... eyelash” he murmured, grey eyes not breaking from your own.

“...thanks.”

His mind was screaming at him to just carry on talking, yet no words came out of his mouth. 

Instead, almost like his body had a mind of it’s own, his fingers continued to move to brush away the lock of hair which had fallen out of it’s place.

Finally gaining control of his actions again, he dropped his hand and pulled you closer to him, effectively breaking your line of sight. Draco began to talk about Orion again but his mind wasn’t 100% paying attention to the facts that came out his mouth.

What the hell was that?

Shaking those questions from his head, he pressed his lips to your temple and continued his rambling about stars.

It had been quick, fleeting, but Draco hadn’t missed it and he really hoped you had. The affection which was suppose to be scripted for everyone else’s belief had reared it’s head like it was second nature to the pair. 

You hadn’t said anything or brought it up so Draco definitely wasn’t going to. 

He agreed with himself it was probably best left unspoken about. It was a slip up, something which felt right to do at the time but it wouldn’t happen again.

Attempting to convince himself, he muttered about how you probably didn’t even notice. It was nothing. 

After all, whatever was happening affectionately between the two of you wasn’t real.

In short, you’d noticed. 

Draco showing you affection was nothing new, yet Draco showing it when no one else was around, okay, that was new.

The kiss he left on your temple could of course be in a friendly manner, right? The brush against your cheek? The way he looked at you?

Friends are affectionate to each other, it was probably nothing more than a friendly endearment. Like a hug.

So why did it feel like there was so much more unsaid?

With a groan of annoyance, you shut it from your mind. There was no use in overthinking something as small as a simple affection. You were smarter than that. 

The truth was, the two of you were so hellbent on making everyone around you believe you were in a relationship, you failed to noticed how neither of you denied how believable it was to each other.

Your stomach grumbled loudly, catching the attention of the witch opposite you who eyed you with annoyance.

“Are you just going to sit there, starve yourself and annoy me, or are you going to get some food and leave so I can work in peace?”

“Merlin, Hermione, it’s almost like you don’t want me around.”

“I don’t when you’re distracting me”

“Charming as ever, I see”

With a huff, the bookworm turned her attention back to her books.

Completely bored with your homework, you fidgeted with your quill between your fingers.

“Hey, Hermione? Are you going home for Christmas?”

“You couldn’t ask me this later?” she sighed as she paused in her writing and shot you an irritated look. At the shake of your head, she rolled her eyes. “Yes, My family and I are planning on going skiing again. Are you heading back?”

“Not this year, my parents are off visiting my cousins in America so I said I’d stay at Hogwarts.”

“You’re staying here for Christmas?”

A new voice entered your conversation from behind you and at the look of Hermione’s scowl, you knew immediately it was your blonde boyfriend.

Turning in your seat, you greeted him with a smile. Pecking a kiss to your lips, more for Hermione’s purpose than your own, he took the seat next to you, placing his own stack of books on the table next to you.

“Yeah, like I said, parents are going to America, it’s just easier if I stay.”

“Not many others are planning on staying though, not even the Weasleys” Draco frowned.

You shrugged at his insinuation, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

“I’ll be fine, might actually get some peace and quiet to be honest.”

He didn’t look convinced. 

“I’ll write to my parents and tell them I’m staying for Christmas”

“Draco-”

“Nope, I’m not going to let you spend Christmas alone,” he was adamant, “Can I borrow a piece of parchment, I’ll write to them now.”

“Go ahead, I’m not using it” you replied which earned you an exasperated look from the Gryffindor opposite you, which you ignored.

Hermione took the time to observe the two of you and how effortlessly you interacted around each other. It was like a cleverly choreographed piece.

You looked down at your work, Draco looked up at you. Draco looked down at the letter he was now writing, you looked up at Draco. You rested your hand on his arm when you were talking, he leans into your touch.

The Granger witch couldn’t help but almost admire the chemistry between the two of you and how easy it seemed it was to be with the other. Sure, she had doubts at the very start when you’d just begun dating, yet getting a front row seat to seeing the two of you bounce off each other, Hermione Granger believed wholeheartedly the two of you loved each other. 

Even if you didn’t know it yourselves yet.

Draco had followed through with his promise and as it seemed every other student had journeyed down to the train a couple days ago. The two of you were sat happily in the Astronomy tower, basking in the silence of the castle and embracing how relaxing it was. 

Since the first time the two of you had sat around the tower before, it seemed like this was the place you both chose to come every time when it was just the two of you. 

Neither of you had brought up the small affection from the previous time, but acting like it didn’t happen seemed like it was working for the two of you.

“What’s the best Christmas gift you’ve ever gotten?” Draco asked you after a few moments of silence.

You had to think for a moment before a grin rapidly grew across your face at the exact present you knew you loved. 

“Snitch socks,” you chuckled “I was given a pair by my grandma when I was like 10 or something and they were the fluffiest, comfiest pair of socks I ever owned where there was a little charm with made the snitches fly around the design. They must’ve cost a knut or something as they fell apart after I only wore them for a few days! Young me was so heartbroken about her socks, she cried for three days!”

“You cried over socks?!”

“The best socks! I don’t think I’ve even known real joy since”

Draco snorted out a laugh into your hair as he wrapped an arm round your shoulders.

“That’s so stupid”

“Don’t be such a jerk, I was 10” you scowled at him playfully “besides, my grandma passed away a couple years later and I have no idea where she got them, so I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Would you still wear them now if you got another pair?”

“Oh 100%, but either way, like I said, I’ve made my peace with it.” You shrugged nonchalantly before turning to the boy next to you, “go on then, what’s been your favourite Christmas present ever?!”

“A pocket watch” he grinned reaching into his pocket and pulling one out, passing it over to you to look at. “It’s a Black family heirloom - my Mother’s side of the family, and it’s suppose to keep you on time for everything. It used to belong to one of my great uncles or someone but I’ve never been late to anything when I have this on me.”

“Really?” you asked sceptically 

“Really”

“What about that time you were late to potions?!”

“Left it in my dorm accidentally. Actually that whole day was kind of a disaster. Bloody Pansy and her love potion.”

You snorted as you admired the watch and flipped it over in your palm to examine the back. Cursive words were engraved in the back in another language- probably latin, which had something to do with keeping the owner on time, all the time.  

It was silver and about the size of a large golf ball in diameter, yet surprisingly light as you played with it between your fingers. 

“It’s pretty”

Draco hummed in agreement as he watched you trace the intricate details with your fingers before smiling and handing it back to him. With a fond look at the watch, then you, he slipped it back into his pocket.

“I just pray I don’t lose it, wouldn’t hear the end of it from my Mother”

“For good reason probably” you snorted, “if it’s a family heirloom it probably means a lot to her.”

Draco hummed once again and pinned his warm gaze on you. He wouldn’t say it out loud but he rarely let the things that meant a lot to him out of his sight.

“God rest ye merry hippogriffs-”

“I’m begging you to stop”

“-ye are A BIRD OF PREY!”

“Y/N-”

“We come in all our splendour, to lead ye ast--”

A hand covered your mouth as you laughed heavily at Draco’s attempt to quieten your singing. You had purposefully tried to make it the worst edition of the Christmas carol possible to annoy the blonde that Christmas morning, yet you hadn’t planned on being tackled into the Slytherin sofa as an attempt to be shut up.

“Did you just lick my hand?!”

You shook your head innocently, not fooling Draco for a second. 

The two of you had gathered in the Slytherin common room, as most of the house had gone back for the holiday.

Only a couple of students remained, but after the wizard had glared at the couple of second years, they scattered somewhere else for the time being.

“Okay, presents!”

You almost dived under the tree as you caught sight of a carefully wrapped gift with your name on it. However, finding the label attached to a rather large bundle of Honeydukes chocolates, the smile you shot Draco was almost blinding.

“You did get me the chocolates!!”

“I promised, didn’t it?!”

Draco watched you with a fond grin as you rifled through the basket picking out a couple of chocolate frogs and chucked one to him. He caught the small packet quickly, thanking his seeker reflexes as he did, and looked at you questioningly.

“What, you didn’t think I’d be able to get through all these myself?! Plus I know chocolate frogs are your favourite.”

Draco felt his smile grow wider.

“I got something for you too” you matched his smile

“You did?”

“Of course!”

Pulling out a long rectangular box from under the tree, he kneeled down next to you as he pushed it along the floor so it wasn’t obstructed by anything.With a wary look towards you, he paused slightly.

“It’s not anything that will bite, right?”

“Oh shut up, of course not, now open it!”

With a roll of his eyes, the Malfoy ripped off the wrapping paper and pried open the cardboard box to see the broom he had been envying Harry Potter over for the last year.

“You got me a Firebolt?!”

“Couldn’t have you whining about Harry’s broom any longer, could I?!”

“Merlin, Y/N! This is fantastic, thank you!” He grinned at you before his eyes snapped to the tree and back. “There’s some other things for you still under the tree.” 

It was your turn to pin him with a questioning look, eyebrows pulled together in a frown. 

Turning back to the tree, you pulled up a few branches and spotted another large box at the back. With great effort, to which the Malfoy just found great entertainment in, you managed to retrieve the box. Pulling open the top flap, the boots and jacket he had also promised you, sat inside.

With a laugh you pulled the boots out first and then the jacket, before spotting a smaller bundle at the bottom. Reaching in, your fingers came in contact with something soft which you pulled out, only to gasp at what it was.

A pair of fluffy green socks sat in your hand as golden snitches whizzed round the design. Not being able to find your words, you looked up at Draco with the softest look you were sure you’d ever looked at him with. 

“Draco... you got me snitch socks?!”

“I may have mentioned about the socks to my Mother and she just so happened to know where they were sold. I picked the green ones because I couldn’t have you wearing red ones now, could I?”

“Merlin, they’re perfect! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Pretty much launching yourself at him, you pulled Draco into a warm hug, arms around his neck, as he instinctively wrapped his own arms around your waist in return. 

“You are the best boyfriend ever, oh Merlin!”

“If I knew it was this easy to please you, I would’ve bought you them ages ago” he snickered.

You pulled away, only to move to put the socks on as you chatted non stop about how great they were, and in turn, how great he was. Seeing your entire face light up because of a pair of socks made Draco smile even more. 

Again, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but seeing that smile on your face, which he had 100% been responsible for, made his entire Christmas so much better.

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Best Christmas Present [Sirius Black x Reader] - Heloise’s Christmas Calendar - Requested

December 18 - Best Christmas Present [Sirius Black x Reader]

Title: Best Christmas Present Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader   Word count: 3.1k   Published: 18 December, 2020   Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore   Notes: This is part of Heloise’s Christmas Calendar.   Summary: Sirius goes back to you after he has escaped Azkaban. But when he finds you with a son, he wants nothing but to escape the heartbreak, not even listening to your explanation.  Request: [x] - Anonymous

“When you have time could you please do a Sirius X Reader, where he meets his Girlfriend again.Obviously He is afraid that she might have a new man in her Life,...At one day she arrives at Grimmauldplace with her son (Looks Like her) and Sirius Heart Breaks into pieces, while she has to explain that it is his son. #drama :)”

Heloise’s Christmas Calendar Masterlist

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

You were running up and down in the kitchen, from the stove to the fridge, from the cupboards to the table. You were preparing the dinner for Christmas Eve, a chaotic tension running through you as you tried to keep yourself organised. As Albert Einstein, a muggle scientist said in a book you’ve read; “Order is for idiots, genius can handle chaos”. You prided yourself in always getting things done, even in the midst of all the unfortunate events that could possibly occur.

Your mince pies were all done, still cooling down on the top of the counter with your Yorkshire puddings chilling beside them. Mulled wine brewed on one side of the stove, whilst the turkey slowly cooked in the oven. You chopped up your ingredients for the perfect roast potatoes and placed them in the oven, right above the turkey.

You always preferred cooking the old-fashioned, muggle way, no magical touch until the washing up. But at times, you found it calming and tossed your wand aside, thinking your day through whilst doing the dishes.

Christmas music blasted from the background, an old muggle radio playing the most popular Christmas songs. Traditional English Christmas dinner was cooking in the kitchen, traditional Christmas songs playing in your living room, traditional Christmas stocking hanging above the fireplace, traditional Christmas tree standing in the corner of the room decorated in red, gold and green.

You loved Christmas and since you haven’t been alone for a long time, it was always a special day for you to celebrate it to the best of your abilities, mixing old traditions with new traditions, muggle word with wizarding world.

You heard the knocker on your door, making you frown as you looked up at the giant antique clock above the entrance of the kitchen. You still had about two hours before the order members were supposed to arrive. The turkey and the potato were still in the oven, your mulled wine only halfway finished sitting on the stove.

You walked across the hall, peaking into the living room with a small smile on your face as you headed to the black, wooden entrance door of your flat. You looked through the peephole, but there was noone outside. You opened the door reluctantly, hand on your wand, tucked inside your back pocket as you peaked out of the tiny gap between the door and its frame.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognised the man in front of you. His hair grew longer, his face got skinnier, his body exposed under the white button up shirt, covered in tattoos you have not seen before. You loudly gasped at the sight of the man as you opened the door wider in your shocked state.

“Hey-” he greeted you with a shy smile, one that you were not used to from the proudest, most confident man you have ever met. But that was 13 years ago, before his incarceration in Azkaban.

“Sirius.” You breathed, your lips and tongue unable to cooperate with the hundreds of questions swirling around in your confused mind.

You were both standing in the door awkwardly, none of you saying a word. You couldn’t make a coherent sentence and Sirius didn’t dare to interrupt you from processing the situation.

You felt your heartbeat in your throat, your palms sweating as you held onto the doorknob. You watched the man you once loved more than your own life, standing right in front of you and now you didn’t know what to say, what to do, you didn’t even know where to put your hands in your shocked state.

You knew he escaped Azkaban, it wasn’t a secret. You knew he was in hiding, Remus told you what happened in Hogwarts, but he never came looking for you and you thought you would never see him again. Noone knew where he was, only that he left Europe.

Thinking he forgot about you was easier than to face him and getting rejected after waiting for him for so long. So you stayed still. Deep down you wished your thoughts were simply a game your mind was playing against you, but now that he stood in front of you, you didn’t even dare to breathe, afraid of scaring the man away.

“I’m sorry, come in.” The words rolled off your tongue without your knowledge, your head was in a different space. Sirius smiled lightly as he stepped inside and waited for you to walk him wherever you could talk. You headed towards the kitchen, offering him a chair as you walked to the stove and stirred your mulled wine absentmindedly. “I knew you escaped, but you never showed.” You blurted it out as the spoon fell out of your hand, onto the stove. You didn’t care about the cutlery, you turned around, your gaze firmly fixed on his grey eyes, ones that you always found to be his unique trait.

“I wanted to, but-“ he cut himself off, trying to search for the right words. Both of you were afraid of saying something wrong, dancing on the edge of every word that left your lips.

“You were scared.” He nodded as you finished his sentence.

“I was scared that you had- someone else in your life. That- maybe you didn’t-“ his words didn’t seem to come easy and if anyone, you understood the best. You were struggling with what to say and even how to say it.

“-love you anymore?” You finished his sentence once again, making him smile lightly.

“Yes.” He breathed in a silent whisper, his words inaudible, but you could read the word of his lips.

“Mom.” A young teenage boy ran out of the living room with an envelope in his hands, a carbon copy of you. Same hair colour, same facial structure, even to the last little mole, he was a boyish version of you. “We got a letter from Uncle Remus.” He shouted as he ran up to you, his hand holding the envelope up, reaching towards you.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the boy, before your gaze wandered to the man seated across the table. A shaky breath left your lungs as you took the envelope from the boy and engulfed him in a hug, hinting a small kiss on the top of his head. “Mom!” He whined, trying to get out of your hold, making you chuckle. You let go of him as he turned around, his gaze meeting with Sirius’.

The man looked shocked beyond belief, his lips widely parted, his eyes dilated, his hands grabbing the side of the table, making his fingers paler by the second. He scoffed as his eyes grew even wider and stood up from the table ready to leave.

“James, can you please go to the living room?” You asked your son, although reluctantly but he headed to the other room.

“You named him James?” Sirius turned back with a dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, of course.” You replied with a deep frown, clear confusion sitting across your face. “Sirius, please sit back and let’s talk.”

“What else do you want to talk about?” He shook his head as he headed towards the door, his back hunched, his jaw clenched. “I never understood why Remus kept nagging me to see you. I knew it was a bad idea and I was right all along. I shouldn’t have listened to him, I shouldn’t have come here.” He stated weakly, his voice breaking.

“Sirius can you just stop for a second and listen to me?” You asked as he reached for the doorknob, but you took your wand out and as soon as he opened the door, you closed it right back. “I promise you, if you don’t like what you hear, I will let you go, and we will never ever search for you.” You replied as the tears started rushing down your reddened cheeks. “But let me tell you what’s going on before you come to any wrong conclusions.” You choked as you tried to keep your sobs down, before the only person you have ever loved disappeared from your life once again.

“What do you want to talk about?” He asked weakly, pulling on the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to wait for 13 years and even if I can’t show it at the moment, I am happy for you for moving on, for finding someone you love, for building a family, but please let me out.” He was pleading for you to let him go, but you didn’t give in.

“Sirius, can you please look at me?” You asked the man who stood with his back to you, his hands painfully holding the doorknob in his grasp. A deep, loud sigh left his lungs as he turned around, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes glistening of the unshed tears. You took a couple of steps forward to get closer to him but kept a safe distance in case he was ready to leave by the end of what you were about to reveal. “I haven’t had anyone since you.” You confessed, as you watched the man frown in confusion, before his eyes grew wide in surprise.

“What? But your son-“ he began, but his words stuck in him, his mouth agape.

“He is 12 years old.” You nodded in confirmation.

“He is my-“ Sirius started once again, but he was incapable of finishing a coherent sentence, his heart beating at a dangerous speed, his head a mess of confused thoughts.

“Yes, he is yours.” You nodded robotically, trying to refrain yourself from showing anymore emotions. You wanted to jump into his neck and kiss him, you wanted to bring out your son to introduce them to each other, but deep down you were terrified he would reject both his son and you.

You never talked about family back then and whilst you loved each other passionately, warmly, sweetly, you never knew how he would react if you announced that you were expecting his baby.

“I wanted to tell you, before all those horrible events happened, but I kept pushing it further and further, afraid of losing you, scared that you wouldn’t want the baby. By the time I felt ready to speak to you, everything came down crumbling and we lost Lily and James, whilst you were sent to Azkaban and Remus was struggling to even make enough money to live. It was- a terrible time.” You exhaled as you looked down on the dark carpet covering your hallway, reliving that horrible night and all the events that followed after. Your tears started again, rolling down your cheeks, soaking your skin in the salty liquid. Your breath hitched before you could continue.

“I knew you escaped, I knew you were hiding somewhere, noone knew where. Although even if I knew, I wouldn’t have gone to look for you. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me, that you forgot about me and whilst it breaks my heart to think about it, if that’s the case, I accept that. But I need you to tell me that you don’t want us, otherwise I will keep hoping.” Your voice broke as you finished your monologue, hoping for the man in front of you to say that he needed you, that he wanted his son, that he couldn’t be happier to be beside you.

“I thought you already had someone else. I never thought you’d be waiting.” He shook his head, stunned.

“I was. I was waiting for you, Sirius, even if at times I thought you would never leave that hellhole, even if at times it was terrifying to be a single mom, even if at times I thought I would never see your face again. I was waiting even when you escaped, even when I thought you didn’t think of me anymore.” You confessed with a small smile playing in the corner of your lips. The fact that he was still standing in front of you, instead of running away, made you feel hopeful.

“I never forgot about you, I was just scared to search for you and turn your life upside down, especially when I thought you have moved on already. There wasn’t a day I didn’t think of you, but I had to shove it into the back of my mind. I’m a fugitive, I’m wanted, the ministry is looking for me. I couldn’t just come to you.” He stepped closer, placing his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his slightly calloused thumb. He leaned closer, placing a small kiss on your forehead, not daring to make the next step just yet.

He heaved a deep sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. You enjoyed the silent breaths between you, the calm atmosphere. Noone of you dared to step over the boundaries, even if both of you needed to be closer to each other.

You took a deep breath, before you exhaled shakily. “You know, he knows who you are.” Sirius knew what you meant without another word. “I wanted him to know his father.” You couldn’t read Sirius’ expression, but you were hoping it wouldn’t be the moment he leaves. “Do you want to meet him? Properly?” You asked, but before you let him answer you continued. “I don’t want to pressure you. If you need time to think, that’s perfectly fine.” You added quickly.

“I want to meet him.” He smiled softly, a nerves knot sitting in the pit of his stomach. You got hold of his hand, the feeling of his long fingers folding around your hand making you nostalgic and somewhat giddy. You walked him towards the living room, both of you halting in the doorway, watching James seated in front of the Christmas tree with a photo of a younger Sirius in his hand.

“James?” You called your son, making him jump. He looked up at you, before his eyes wandered to Sirius, studying the man. “Can you come here, please?” You asked and the boy stood up, walking over to you. James faced Sirius, both of them studying each other with a curious gaze.

“He is my dad, isn’t he?” He asked, looking up at you with the identical grey eyes his father had, his gaze questioning. You nodded in a reply, watching as he reached his hand towards Sirius, who accepted it with a proud smile. “I’m James.” He introduced himself.

“I’m Sirius.” He replied with a nod.

“Is he staying?” James asked as he looked up at you waiting for a reply. Your stomach jumped at the thought, but you didn’t know how to reply. You turned to Sirius for an answer.

A wider smile started spreading across his face as he squeezed your hand, which you still didn’t let go of, completely forgetting about how natural it felt to be connected with him. “If you let me, that would be amazing.” Sirius replied confidently, making you let out a single laughter.

“I would love that.” You smiled happily. “Can I leave the two of you alone until I try to save the food from burning?” You asked with a silent chuckle. Both of the boys nodded confidently, waiting for you to leave. They watched you with eager eyes as you looked back at them, making sure that everything was going well.

You quickly headed to the kitchen, pulling out the roasted potatoes and turkey from the oven, slightly burned, but still edible enough. You placed the trays on top of the unoccupied part of the stove and removed the mulled wine from the fire, before turning it off. You tried to work as fast as you could, impatiently wanting to head back to your boys. Seeing them together was like a dream come true and you felt like you were still dreaming. You needed to see them again as soon as possible to be able to believe it was all happening to you.

You rushed back to the living room as soon as you finished and leaned against the doorframe watching as Sirius and James talked about quidditch, both with a childlike enthusiasm across their face. It was an idyllic moment you cherished dearly, the two most important men in your life bonding over their common interests. You never wanted to step out of that sweet reality you found yourself in.

“No, that’s not true. I will show you the best broomstick.” James exclaimed as he started off towards his room with a wide smile across his face, almost shoving you out of the way, before shouting a quick ‘sorry’ to you.

“He is an amazing kid.” Sirius stated with a cheerful grin across his face as he waved you over to the couch.

“I know, I tried to do my best.” You nodded in agreement as you took a seat beside Sirius.

“You did a fantastic job, love.” He beamed, his gaze warm and loving, just like all those years ago, capturing your complete focus, his pet name for you rolling off his tongue just as smoothly as all those years ago.

“Are you really staying?” You asked. “At least for a while?”

“I don’t ever want to leave you or James again.” He sighed deeply. “I still love you just as much as before, if not more and I want nothing more than to get to know my son. Our son.” He lifted his hand, caressing your face. “I want to be with you again. I want to support you and make up for the time we lost.” He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, enjoying the moment with you.

You didn’t want to wait longer, nor could you do so. You closed the gap between you, attaching your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands sneaked around your waist.

It was just as perfect and exciting as you remembered, if not better and you didn’t want to let go of him for as long as you could keep him in your arms. So many memories resurfaced whilst his lips moved against your, all the moments you have shared appearing to you like a happy little montage.

“Come on, Mom!” You heard James’ annoyed voice and you quickly parted from Sirius, both of you slightly panting from the passionate kiss.

“Sorry.” You chuckled as you watched his deformed expression, a disgusted grimace sitting across his face, before it slowly turned into a small smile.

“I’m glad we are all together, but keep that behind closed doors.” James whined, making you giggle as he sat down in front of the couch on the carpet, showing his broomstick to Sirius. He threw his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side, hinting a kiss on top of your head.

The food got cold and was slightly burned by the time the guests arrived, but you were the happiest person in that moment, and nothing could ruin it. Your family being together for the first time was the best Christmas present you could ever wish for.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

Harry Potter general taglist: @inkhearthes @hufflefluff-writer @fific7 @haphazardhufflepuff @kalimagik @accio-rogers @harrypotter289 @nebulablakemurphy @iliveiloveiwrite @mytreec @chaoticgirl04 @idont-knowrn @mayaaa-l @imboredandneedalife @pregnant-piggy @prongsies @holdupwhat @ravenclea @kashishwrites @izzytheninja @timogtrrz @wassup-peoples @levylovegood @msmimimerton @bbeauttyybbx @kiwi-sloan @moatsnow @pandaxnienke @chloer1275​ @sreidswhore​ 

Christmas Calendar taglist: @a-classic-eye

Harry Potter - Marauders era taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

[hollenka99]

Five Cards

Summary: Chase Brody becomes a father and loses his children more than once.

Warnings: Relationship that becomes progressively less healthy, Implied child death, Referenced murder

The first time Chase Brody received a Father's Day card, he hadn't been expecting it.

For him, it had been a regular Sunday. He'd gone to work before meeting with Stacy for a Sunday roast at a restaurant. It was more crowded than usual due to all the fathers celebrating their day with their families. Luckily, he and Stacy had booked a table in advance.

He looked over at her. One day, that would be them. They'd have a little boy who would think his dad had the best aim ever. He'd try to copy his dad and probably start making attempts to throw them into cups or empty containers as soon as he stopped wanting to taste everything he got his hands on. Their daughter would be as beautiful as her mother. They'd share Stacy's wavy blonde hair and lime green eyes. The two of them would roll their eyes at Chase's hobby of doing trick shots.

He chewed slowly on his Yorkshire pudding as he pictured this. It had been two years since he had grinned like a fool in front of all their friends and family as the two of them were introduced as Mr and Mrs Brody. Maybe it was time to move their relationship forward. If they actively tried to become parents, a baby could arrive by the time their third or fourth anniversary came around.

His wife regained his attention from the daydream. When he explained his thought process, she simply handed him a card addressed to him. His confusion only caused her to smile wider. Something was up.

The Father's Day card containing an ultrasound picture within caught him off guard. The longer it took him to speak, the harder Stacy laughed at his reaction. Yes, she insisted, she was serious. All he could do was move to the chair next to hers and hug her. Dessert wasn't their usual ending to Sunday dinner but tonight was special. Tonight, they were celebrating along with the other parents.

When the waitress came to collect their dirty plates, noticed the card on display and enquired where their child was, he proudly told her it was coming soon.

The second time Chase Brody received a Father's Day card, he smiled when he noticed his seven month old daughter had seemingly mastered the art of writing. In fact, her handwriting appeared to have a remarkable similarity to her mother's.

Samantha had been due in the first week of January. Spending Christmas in a hospital with a month old baby was not how he'd pictured his first Christmas as a parent. However, he was ecstatic when, after weeks of waiting for her to grow stronger, he and Stacy were able to bring Samantha home for the first time. She had only progressed further since then.

When he announced the pregnancy to Jack, his old friend from college congratulated him with an arm around the shoulder. Along with Henrik, they'd been drinking beer in a pub. The doctor assured Chase he was more than happy to provide parenting tips if needed.

It was strange whenever any of them hung out together, especially as a group. People insisted they looked the same. Chase certainly wouldn't deny he and Jack resembled each other. Only slightly though. After all, that was part of the reason why they began talking in the first place. But Henrik? No. Perhaps some Clark Kent nonsense was happening with his glasses and neater hairstyle but Chase simply couldn't recognise the similarities other than they had the same colour of eyes and hair. Either way, he was thankful for the German doctor who had saved his life before being introduced to him on a personal level by Jack.

He'd experienced recurring moments of pride every time he announced the Brody family was expecting a new member. His parents were overjoyed at the prospect of becoming grandparents. The rest of Chase's friends were happy for him too. Unfortunately, Stacy's family had to be informed of the good news as well. He never understood why they hated him. Okay, sometimes he could act immature but that part of his personality was what had had gotten their daughter to fall for him. Every time he messed about with trick shots, it would get Stacy to smile or even laugh.

Tracy was the worst of them. His wife's twin sister seemed to have a personal vendetta against him. Stacy's parents were cold towards him but with Tracy, he seemed to be one wrong move away from being murdered by her in cold blood. The two avoided each other when they could get away with it.

It didn't matter. Stacy's family didn't live with them. At home, it was just the two of them and their baby girl. Chase had been correct. Samantha had her mother's hair and eyes. He could still a little of himself in his daughter. Her smile, one of his favourite things about her, certainly didn't resemble Stacy's smile. He could make the comparison right now, seeing as both of them were smiling as he played peek-a-boo in the living room.

A year ago, this had been a daydream in a restaurant as he lived a repetitive routine. This year, he had no schedule. His only objectives were earning enough money to give this baby the world and witness her happiness as often as he could.

The third time Chase Brody received a Father's Day card, he felt like he didn't deserve to be praised for his parenting skills.

His boss was forced to make cutbacks to ensure the business survived tough financial times. Of course Chase was let go. 'I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Chase'. Yeah, that was bullshit. If his manager was really cared about him, they wouldn't be firing Chase a month before his second child was due. He'd put all the effort required and more to his professional responsibilities. His willingness to work hard was the only reason his in-laws didn't riot when he married their daughter.

Telling Stacy had been the worst part. Yes, he knew it would be a while before she could return to her job. Of course he was aware having two children under the age of two was expensive. He was feeling like shit after being told he wasn't good enough to stay employed. Couldn't he get some reassurance that these things occasionally happened to those who didn't deserve it? Could he perhaps receive some emotional support from the woman he loved, despite letting her down? No, it turned out he wasn't getting anything.

Going to a restaurant to celebrate Father's Day seemed like a waste of money. It wasn't like Sam was going to eat beef and potatoes with her parents. Their little girl was still at the stage where she lived off of cheese cubes and slices of fruit between meals. Nevertheless, they still spent the money they should be saving up. He didn't enjoy the meal out at all.

The card and teddy had really been from Stacy, when he thought about it. He doubted Sam knew what was going on. She probably recognised something exciting was happening, that was all. Regardless of her understanding of the holiday, Sam still acknowledged her daddy was upset. She toddled over to him while her mother prepared everything for bedtime. Chase's new little teddy was offered to him. For a few minutes, things didn't seem so bad when he appreciated how easy it was to make a 19 month old child giggle if you made a bear boop her on the nose. It was a shame Stacy didn't have the same appreciation. All she cared about was how he wasn't helping her when she needed it most.

He said nothing. However, as he slept beside her that night, he knew things were changing for the worst.

The fourth time Chase Brody received a Father's Day card, it was signed with two stickers.

Flynn was the opposite to his sister. While she had been nearly two months early, he'd stayed until the day before intervention had been scheduled. Samantha had taken her time with her milestones but that was normal for a premature child. Flynn, on the other hand, was already walking on his own and on the brink of saying his first word. Chase had his fingers crossed for Dada.

The July morning Samantha met her baby brother was beautiful. Chase picked her up from Henrik's home to visit the hospital. Her reaction to Flynn was better than he'd expected. She'd been fascinated by the pink face surrounded by the blanket he was wrapped in. Within days, she wanted to hold him all the time. She even became incredibly frustrated that he couldn't play with her yet.

Whenever he had the time, Chase would film poor quality videos of his unsuccessful attempts to perform simple tricks. Apparently, people enjoyed Bro Average's failures. Being reminded failing multiple times before success wasn't that bad did seem appealing. He didn't have many subscribers however Jack assured him it was early days. A shout out from his internationally popular friend did boost the statistics. A video on Jack's channel had been suggested in passing conversation but it wasn't something they had considered doing for real as of yet.

Flynn was definitely Chase's son. Sure, Samantha looked more like her mother than him. Flynn, however, was his father's doppelganger. Jack, king of nicknames, had even dubbed the small boy 'Mini-Chase'. The infant clone was slowly learning how to imitate his father's mannerisms. Stacy was the clear second favourite. Then again, Chase was always home while she worked a full time job to make ends meet. Not that she let him forget that detail.

He struggled to know where he stood with her. Sometimes, they catapulted insults between each other like it was a game of hot potato. You want to remain sane for the sake of your children? Tough, how about you're reminded of your numerous flaws instead. Other times, they would get along perfectly. It was like the fights were simply blips. Nothing to worry about, all couples fought. Take Valentine's Day, a rare lovely dinner at home while their children remained quiet. The good times were gradually growing less and less frequent.

Recently, he noticed Stacy was employing an immoral and frankly childish method of never allowing the verbal wounds to heal. In the past few weeks, Samantha would act as messenger for her mother. Mummy says this, Mummy said that. Jesus, the child was only two years old. She didn't deserve to be used like this. His wife would brush it off as a toddler picking up more than she should. No, she was listening to her mummy openly criticize Daddy in front of her. If it had been a case of a small child saying things she shouldn't, Stacy would have helped him discourage the behaviour. He was never aware the woman he married had the ability to be manipulative.

Chase ended the day by putting Flynn to bed. His son stands up immediately, clearly not planning on sleeping yet. He reaches out as Chase reminds him it's time to get some rest. Flynn shouts his first word in protest. Chase doesn't know whether it's the actual word or the fact that he's had no rest himself since the early hours of this morning. Either way, he's wiping a tear or two as he steps towards the crib. He whispers thank you as they cuddle. At least someone at home wasn't working against him, intentionally or not.

To her disapproval, Stacy found her husband asleep with his back against the wall, cradling their dreaming second child. Once a photograph of the moment was taken, she took control of the situation. Chase mumbled the news as he climbed into their bed. Obviously that would be Flynn's first word. The kid was joined to his father's hip.

The fifth time Chase Brody received a Father's Day card, he found it in his post.

April had only been two months ago. He still remembered that phone call in perfect clarity. He had been filming the Bro Average video for Jack's channel when Stacy announced she was divorcing him. Taking their children to her twin sister was like twisting the knife. Stacy hadn't even allowed him to say a proper goodbye to the kids. One second he was making sure Samantha knew he loved her and her little brother, the next he was listening to a disconnected line.

Stacy had the nerve to explain the split to her parents as 'realising they were right about him all along'. She spouted rubbish about how he refused to provide for his family. Since when? Ever since he'd been made redundant two years ago, he'd done everything in his power to help make ends meet. He had a job again, albeit a part time one that paid far less than his old job. What mattered was that he was pulling his weight. He couldn't go full time because somebody had to be there for Sam and Flynn while Stacy worked. Not to mention, the merchandise he'd brought out for the Bro Average channel earned them a few extra pounds on the side. She once argued with him about the items he purchased for the videos. Clearly he'd been married to someone who didn't understand basic business principles.

Chase never intended to become dependent on alcohol either. Prior to the call, he'd liked to have a drink every now and then, the same as anyone else. Now, he used it to lose a few hours of the day. Without meaning to, he allowed his life to unravel. Countless shifts of pretending he wasn't intoxicated or hungover had been noticed. Last week, he experienced a huge serving of deja vu. He had been called into his boss' office and fired for his performance. Because of course he had. He was Chase Brody, the world's biggest failure. He couldn't keep a job, make his wife stay with him or be a good enough father to their two children. Everything had gone to shit after Stacy demanded a divorce.

And yet, he still loved her with the a similar strength as he did at the beginning. God, did their marriage only last seven years? If he didn't have a chance of fixing his relationship with Stacy, he'd have to fight for his right to see his children grow up. If his life was spiralling out of control, he refused to let that affect his involvement in their lives. He wasn't going to back down, not when he needed his family the most.

The first time Chase Brody didn't receive a Father's Day card, life was close to hell.

It had started okay. He still abused his liver but after a battle in court, Chase had been granted the right to spend time with his kids over the weekend. He wept the day it happened. If he had been able to get away with it, he would have asked for every day with them. He'd be a part of lives, even if it wasn't as big of a part as their mother. That was the motivation to try and ultimately fail to go cold turkey with the drink. Sam and Flynn didn't deserve an alcoholic father, on top of everything else Chase was. His friends supported him and cheered with him at this breakthrough.

Then Jack fell ill.

He didn't know how it had happened. It was either the end of July or the start of August when he'd last visited him for a gaming session. A few days later, Henrik rang with bad news. Jack was in a coma. If someone asked why Chase remembered the date being August 3rd, he wouldn't be able to tell them. He knew his kids' birthdays to the minute but he was supposed to know that.

For months, his life fell into a routine. On weekdays, he would spend most of the day at the job he'd miraculously managed to obtain, given his record. As the sky got dark, Chase frequently headed to the hospital to share a one-sided conversation with his friend. The weekends were dedicated to his two anchors.

On the last Monday of April, Jack listened to the story about a trip to the fairground. If he was awake he would've learned Flynn insisted on mint choc chip ice cream then handed it to Samantha after one disgusted lick. Oh, Sam was starting to get really scared of heights as well. That was a weird coincidence, wasn't it? Chase hoped Jack was enjoying these stories, even if he couldn't react. Like always, he begged him to wake up.

May marked nine months since Chase lost his best friend to a coma. It didn't help that Henrik had left indefinitely, only to suddenly return without a word. May also marked the beginning of the end.

After nine months and five days, Jack finally regained consciousness. Chase couldn't get over there fast enough after work. They had proper conversations until Friday night's visiting hours were over. It became Jack's turn to worry incessantly about Chase when he disappeared for a week. The once playful man who lived with the burden of his failings came back a shell of himself.

Jack didn't learn what had happened from the one who had lived through the incident. Instead, it was the doctor who had been the first to witness two tiny bodies on their bedroom floor, their mother deceased in the corridor and red staining the carpets. The most Chase would leak was that the three of them must have thought he'd gone psycho. He hardly spoke a word after that horrific night. Maybe if Flynn had remembered his toy truck, his father would have been spared from discovering the haunting scene.

Now Chase Brody was reduced to a man who sat by his apartment's front door, waiting for a card he knew was never coming.

[sybbelle]

To @magfreak Merry Christmas!! I hope you have a wonderful holiday and I hope this present fits all your requested 🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

She was going to kill Edith when they finally got back to Downton.

Perhaps she’d kill Edith and burry the body in the backyard with the help of Thomas…or Mary. Either way, Sybil would make it look like an accident; and if she got caught she’d simply plead insanity because who wouldn’t go senile trapped within the four walls of an old run down hotel that the owners had the gall to label as ‘rustic chic’ thanks to the New York blizzard that meant they were now snowed in…. trapped in the misery of an American Christmas. Sybil’s stomach rumbled at the mere thought of Mrs Patmore’s Christmas pudding she was missing out on or the melt in your mouth shortbread cookies cut out in the shape of Christmas trees and Santa Clauses. Even Granny went wild around this time of year and endeavoured to bake her infamous Yorkshire pudding, showing a very rare domestic side to the Dowager Countess that always put a smile on her father’s face.  

But was Sybil enjoying the yuletide festivities of Downton; she could just picture it now. Her mother would be in a heated debate with Mrs Hughes over where the best place was for the exuberant Christmas tree; only to end up in the same place it always did, in the saloon for every guest to enjoy. Once that was ticked off her list, Mrs Hughes would be running around like mad trying to arrange the decorations that would adorn the rest of the estate; while Carson stomped around Downton like the Grinch who would steal Christmas if only she’d let him.

“Are you still moping?” Edith sighed, cautiously sliding onto the old barstool beside her little sister before waving the bartender over. Her Grandmother’s lessons in poise and propriety never left forgotten, she kindly asked for a glass of sparking wine; because women should never be seen drinking ‘the hard stuff’ as Granny would put it. But then Sybil was never much for rules and decorum if the amber liquid she continued to swirl inside the tumbler glass was any indication. Granny was certain that Sybil was determined to send her completely mad or completely grey before she died.

Slumped over the bar with her head in her hand Sybil scorned at Edith, “my mouth is watering just thinking about the smell of the kitchen back home right now, the smell of Mrs Patmore’s mince pies baking away in the oven while she chases Daisy around with a wooden spoon because the poor girl’s mixed up the measurements for the ginger bread house yet AGAIN.”

Sybil choose to ignore the snort she heard down the other end of the deserted bar; she really couldn’t care less about the opinion of a stranger she was never to cross paths with again…let alone a stranger who willing chose to stay in a place like this. The walls were cracked and the paint was peeling from a lack of attention over the years, while there was a distinct odour that carried throughout all the hallways but Sybil wasn’t game enough to ask anyone what it was. The bed was harder than a slab of concrete and there was a kink in her neck after a night’s sleep that she couldn’t get rid of; the thought of that bed taunting her above only reminded her of her own bed back home.

Damn Edith and damn this snow storm. They were only meant to be in New York for four days; a ‘girl’s weekend’ as Edith had put it when she asked Sybil to accompany her on her trip to visit her editor of the New York Times. They were meant to be on a plane and halfway across the Atlantic Ocean by now, but Sybil should’ve known better considering it’s well known amongst the family that Edith is a notoriously bad planner. She didn’t think there would be much harm in catching up with Sir Herbert Pelham for a quick drink down in Soho in the middle of winter two days before Christmas despite having to be at JFK Airport by 3pm…because who never heard about New York traffic. Sybil couldn’t help but roll her eyes yet again at her sister’s stupidity. They were never going to make it to the airport in time thanks to Edith’s ‘quick drink’ turning into a ‘late lunch’.

Maybe she should’ve just caught that cab to the airport without her sister Sybil thought to herself as she twirled her empty tumbler around the wooden bar top. But then how would she have explained that to her mother and father when she pulled up to the driveway by herself? How would she explain to them both that she was forced to abandon her sister in the great big concrete jungle of New York City because her sister had seriously underestimated traffic in order to meet a boy?

Taking a dainty sip of her flute glass Edith gently placed the glass down before running her fingernails over the cracked crevices of the old weathered bar. “I get it ok. You’re terribly angry at me, and you have every right to be. We’re stuck in the ‘Americas’ as Great Uncle Edward refers to it rather than being home for Christmas; and it doesn’t matter how much money one has it’ll never be enough to buy mother nature or sold out hotel rooms. Who knew that all the quality hotels would be booked solid on Christmas Eve” Edith laughed awkwardly, hoping that a bit of self-deprecating humour might score brownie points with Sybil.

“Geez who would’ve thought it” Sybil snorted with contempt, she couldn’t help it. She knew she was being childish; but Sybil wanted to cross her harms and stomp her feet as she cursed every man and his dog for being snowed in for Christmas. Sybil was one hairsbreadth away from a full blown tantrum. All she needed was for one more thing to go wrong, and Sybil knew without a doubt she’d be on the floor kicking and screaming like George did last Christmas when Mary refused to let him have another Christmas cookie; which she felt was completely justified on her nephew’s part…they were incredibly delicious cookies damn it.

Running her finger up and down the glass Edith looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing her mouth as she struggled to find the right words that wouldn’t result in her head getting bitten off. “I have an idea…” she hesitated.

“Oh splendid, and will this ‘brilliant’ idea have us stuck here for New Years Eve too” Sybil snapped, instantly regretting her acidic tone. She knew that her sister was only trying to make the best of a bad situation, but considering the year she’d had Sybil had really been looking forward to being home for Christmas. Who knew that one seemingly innocent trip would send her into d downward spiral.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say I’m sorry Sybil” Edith snipped as she slid off her chair, placing a $10 bill under the glass. “Edith Crawley screws up once again; surprise, surprise!” she cried derisively as she threw hands up in the air, scurrying towards the entrance hall in an eager quest to escape.

Sybil watched her sister storm out of the hotel into the freezing cold with nothing but a sheer cardigan to keep her warm. She knew she’d have to run after her soon with a coat and scarf as a peace offering, but the mocking snort she heard coming once again from the other end of the bar caught her attention. The man sitting at the end of the bar was a striking man grinning at her like he was short of a quid or two; yet there was something striking about the glint in his eyes. He quickly downed the rest of his drink before ordering two more from the bartender; pointing his finger at Sybil before making his way towards her. Sybil was subconsciously captivated by an obvious charm that he no doubt had, but there was something about the way he walked that suggested he wasn’t all too aware of just how attractive he was. And in Sybil’s eyes that made him even far more dangerous than the Larry Grey’s of the world.

“Seems like someone isn’t having a good run of it today” he observed with a brogue Irish accent that had Sybil biting down on her lip in a futile attempt to stop herself from groaning out loud. Sybil Crawley had always been a sucker for an Irish accent; there was something lyrical about a way a man could talk despite Mary’s jesting that it was more to do with the attraction of ‘slumming it’ with the lower class that Sybil knew would press her father and Granny’s buttons.

She took a deep breath as the bartender slid another glass of scotch towards Sybil; downing the amber liquid in a single gulp. She was about as undignified and unrefined as she could get right now; and if her grandmother could only see for herself. Sybil scoffed at the thought; Granny detested the fact that Robert and Sybil would always share a glass of single malt scotch after dinner while the other ladies insisted on a glass of sherry or a cup of tea. Granny always felt the need to point out to Sybil that men of wealth and stature were in want of a wife with propriety. As far as Sybil was concerned those men could go and stick their propriety up where the sun doesn’t shine.

“Look I’m really not in the mood at the moment, so if you don’t mind please leave me alone” said Sybil tersely; hoping that her prickly personality would send the poor sod running in the opposite direction.

“Fair enough” he held his hands up in surrender. “I couldn’t help over hearing your conversation and I was just going to say…”

Sybil slammed her glass down onto the bar, essentially cutting the cute Irishman off. “You were what huh? You were going to tell me how sorry you are to hear that I’m stranded on the other side of the world from my family at Christmas; then what? Then you’d try and offer to buy me another drink, console me in my hour in need. But here’s the thing, I’m not like the rest of your lot here. I didn’t choose to slum it in this dingy old hotel on Christmas Eve because I had nothing better to do.”

His nostrils flared at her unexpected outburst, his jaw clenching as he griped the glass tumbler tighter then was necessary. Damn it why does he have look so good pissed off? Sybil thought to herself, and like a balloon being popped she felt all the hot air deflate out of her.  

Rising from his chair the poor bloke bowed before her, swiping his hand across the room. “Well my Lady I’m terrible sorry, it was my mistake for thinking that the Brits had moved on from their Imperialistic notions of aristocracy; but it would seem that some of you have yet to join the rest of us in the twenty first century” he seethed before storming off towards the exit.

Sybil was stunned by his retort, rendered speechless by his emboldened and impassioned speech that reminded her of a man who was no stranger to assumptions and stereotypes; but before she could call out some fleeting apology the man turned on his heels and marched back towards her.

“And for the record, although it isn’t any of your business, I should be half way back to Ireland by now. Instead I’m stuck here talking to a seemingly innocent woman who is in fact nothing more than a snob who sees herself as being above everyone else.” His chest heaving as he struggled to catch a breath; Sybil cursed her own mind because she couldn’t help but wonder what other activities would get him as breathless.

Behave woman! Get control of yourself! And since when are you your grandmother? You’re the one always preaching about equality and acceptance to the Dowager, so why the hell are you being a right royal cow?

“I’m sorry” the words got caught in her throat as she tentatively reached out to take hold of the man’s bare wrist; choosing to ignore the spark she felt tingling down her spine at the mere touch. “I was a complete cow and it was uncalled for, I’m just…I’m just not coping very well. I’m not trying to make excuses, but it’s been a really crappy year so I was hoping Christmas would help. But I guess that was my mistake, I shouldn’t be so surprised that a crappy year ends with a crappy Christmas.”

His shoulders slumped and Sybil’s mouth quivered a little, offering a brief smile at the handsome stranger as she held her hand out; “I’m Sybil Crawley” she introduced herself.

Taking her hand into his he couldn’t help but notice how smooth and soft her porcelain skin was; or the way her eyes shone with relief at his forgiveness. “Branson. Tom Branson.”

Gesturing towards the empty seat beside her Sybil order another round of drinks and asked if there was any chance that the kitchen was still open. She couldn’t help but groan in relief at the news that the chef was closing up for the night, but he could still fry off some chilli cheese fries if she wanted.

An awkward silence sat heavily between the two strangers; Sybil was at a loss for words and that was more disconcerting to her than anything else because she always knew what to say. But there was something about Tom, something that threw her off and rendered her speechless or completely defenceless. Either way, it was a feeling she wasn’t used to.

“So what brings you to this neck of the woods?” she tried to joke, but it fell flat based on the stoic look on his face. She laughed awkwardly to try and break some of the tension only it came out more as a gurgled snort.

Tom took pity on the beautiful Brit and smiled apologetically; “I’m here on business. I was supposed to fly home for Christmas, but alas mother nature decided that it was not to be.”

Nodding her head in sympathy Sybil took a sip of her drink to try and clear the sudden frog in her throat. “What is it that you do for work exactly?” she asked with genuine curiosity. Sybil prided herself on being able to read people well; to understand what made them tick, but with Tom she was self-conscious around him.

Tom couldn’t help by smirk at the seemingly innocent question, “what is it you think I do?”

Sybil couldn’t help it; a burst of laughter erupted from within as she threw her head back and laughed. “There is no way I can answer that question without offending you in some way” she giggled, “or be accused of being a British Imperialist who is intent on continuing to subjugate the Irish” she teased with mirth in her eyes.

Shaking his head with a smirk Tom couldn’t get over the amazing sound of her laugh, the lyrical music that just made him want to break out in a Cheshire grin. “I promise there will be no more accusations” he crossed his heart then offered his pinkie to her in a rather juvenile attempt to lighten the mood.

She side eyed him for a second before taking him up on his offer, pinkie swearing as though they were eight year olds out on the school playground; promising not to dob on one another when they finally got caught.

“Well let’s see…” Sybil hummed as she drummed against the bench top. “You seem to have an understanding of the political and social history between England and Ireland, which means you’ve either undergone tertiary education on the subject or you like a bit of light reading on the subject matter.”

“Fancy yourself a bit of a detective Ms Holmes” Tom teased, winking at her blush that was quickly creeping down her neck. “Does that make me your Watson?”

Nearly choking on her drink Sybil spluttered across the bar, this man was well versed in literary and political subjects. Definitely an educated man. “If I remember correctly Watson tolerated Holmes’ eccentricities…”

Quirking an eyebrow at Sybil, Tom nodded his head in agreement; “well it’s only fair. There are some people in the world who just can’t see beyond the end of their own nose.”

It was as though they were caught up in a staring competition, waiting to see who would crack first; only to end up calling a truce in which they both laughed manically at their own stupidity.

“Ok I clearly suck at this. So I give up…what is that you do?” Sybil asked, pinching one of the scolding fries that was placed before them only a minutes ago.

Tugging on his royal blue suit jacket and straightening his shoulders Tom smiled with pride; “university lecturer…Professor of Modern Political thought; I deal mostly with political theorists like Marx, Foucault, Habermas.”

Dipping her fries in extra sauce Sybil chewed on that information for a minute or two. It seemed that Tom was a mystery wrapped up in what would appear to be Ralph Lauren. “So do you have the tweed jacket and Clark Kent glasses to go with the title?” she asked jokingly, yet the sexy smirk Tom shot at her sent warning bells off.

“Well now that you ask?” he drawled, reaching into his suit pocket only to pull a pair think black rimmed reading glasses.

Sybil scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief as he put them on. Damn it the man needed to come with a warning label. She wasn’t one to drool over a man, let alone become tongue tied. But there was something about him…something that made her heart speed up and her palms sweat. “Seriously? This is a joke right…something that you and my sister Edith cooked up together?”

Reaching out for a fry of his own Sybil couldn’t help herself, playfully smacking his hand away. “Get your own mister. I don’t share food.” She teased, popping another fry into her mouth a smug smile.

“So that’s how it’s going to be” Tom laughed, shaking his head. “You really are something Lady Crawley.”

Sybil could feel her cheeks warming as she bowed her head, a compliment from Tom felt like the most precious thing in the world. Pushing the plate towards him as a gesture of good will Sybil rested her chin in her hand; sighing gently at how a crappy day suddenly turned into a pretty good night.

“And what is that you do for a living?” Tom chomped away at the fries, “besides handing out insults for free.”

Twirling a piece of hair around her finger Sybil gnawed at her lip, a sudden urge to kiss the complete stranger had taken over. “I’m a paediatric nurse back home in London; but I’ve just sat my BMAT test, so I should be getting my results in February. If all goes well then I can begin medical school.”

“Wow” Tom whistled, he was thoroughly impressed. “Brains and beauty; you really are an incredible woman” he raved without even thinking. His ears burning bright red from embarrassment once he realised what he’d said.

“So Ireland. What’s it like growing up in the rolling hills?” She asked, trying to play down the comment.

“There aren’t much hills in Dublin” Tom answered as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling the iPhone out of his pocket he couldn’t help but smile at the photo of Santa’s little helper; aka Gwen and John’s little girl Adeline.

“Something funny?” asked Sybil, gnawing at another chip to help try and distract herself from the sudden surge of jealousy coursing through her.

“My friend, Gwen, we’ve been best friends since we were little. She just sent me this photo of her little girl Adeline” Tom explained, turning his phone towards Sybil.

She couldn’t help but awe at the beautiful little baby with deep blue eyes and bright red hair; sitting on Santa’s lap with a candy cane in her mouth, wearing a little elf outfit. “She’s adorable” Sybil replied, staring longingly at the photo. She knew if her plans for medical school went through it would be years before she could even think about settling down, let alone think about having a baby. But she wasn’t so stubborn that she couldn’t admit there was a small ache at the way George lit up whenever Mary walked into a room; or the way he runs towards Matthew as fast as his little legs would take him.

“She’s absolutely adorable” Sybil sighed, reaching out towards the device to get a better look.

“Do you come from a big family?” Tom asked with fascination, he wanted to know everything he could possibly know about her.

“Depends on what you consider big. I have two older sisters; Mary and Edith. Mary is married to a barrister, Matthew and they have a three-year-old son George. There’s my Grandmother Violet, who is the Dowager Countess…”

“A bloody dowager?” Tom interrupts aghast, “you Brits and your titles. So that would make your father…” he drawled, waiting for Sybil to fill in the blank.

“My father is the Earl of Grantham, or Lord Grantham, and my mother is the Countess” explained in a matter of fact. The titles were always bells and whistles to Sybil, they never really held much importance to her despite her grandmother’s frustration with her devil may come attitude to their family title.

“Geez Louise, and here’s little old me proud as punch with my title of Professor” Tom scoffed tugging away at his shirt collar; has the room gotten hot all of a sudden?  

Tentatively reaching across the bar Sybil took hold of Tom’s hand with a gentle squeeze; a silent gesture of comfort. “I’ve always much preferred Professors to Lords and Earls” Sybil whispered softly as if this was a secret that must be kept between the two of them.

Before Sybil even had a chance to pull away Tom threaded their fingers together; holding on tightly as he leant across the bar. “Well I guess it’s a good thing that you go for nerdy chic instead of sexy rich” he whispered softly, his hot breath caressing her cheek.

Sybil’s could hear the blood rushing in her ears, feel her heart pounding in her chest. “I’ve always thought of your kind more as the sexy nerds.”

Pulling on Sybil’s hand he couldn’t help but notice a bit of chilli sauce right on the corner of her mouth; and something embolden took over. Tom has never been this forward with a woman before as he leant across and kissed her.

Sybil had always been that girl who rolled her eyes at every rom-com or chick-flick, never really buying into the sappy love scenes. But in that brief moment it felt as if time had come to a complete stop; that they were the only two people in the whole room and nothing could have ruined the perfect moment. He certainly knew how to kiss, and Sybil was only to eager to figure out what other talents lay beneath the surface.

“You had a bit of sauce right there” Tom whispered pointing to the corner of her mouth. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the stunned look on her face, he hadn’t set out to kiss her…at least not from the get go. But by the end, Tom knew he had to take a chance because he may very well never get to see this beautiful creature sitting beside him ever again.

The soft rhythm of a jazz rendition of ��Dreaming of a White Christmas” echoed throughout the bar, comforting the few hotel guests who refuse to return to their lonely and cold hotel rooms. But sitting beside Tom she felt anything but cold and lonely; instead she felt warm and excited…adrenaline buzzing through her veins.

“Well I guess it’s a very Merry Christmas for the both of us” Sybil retorted, yanking on Tom’s shirt as their mouths clashed together; duelling against one another in heated game of cat and mouse. Neither them could have cared less who took the lead, or who called the shots; because at the end of the day they knew that they both won. Only this was a Christmas gift with a no refund policy, terms and conditions which they were both very happy to bare the cost of.

[amarauder]

chapter nine ❥ | original

Y/n dragged her trunk as she looked up to the familiar Hogwarts Express sign above her head. She heaved it into an empty compartment and began to wait for her friends. Several minutes later, three girls stumbled into the compartment, laughing like crazy. Arabella's brown curls were loose and tumbling down her shoulders, while Jennifer's length blond hair was frizzy.

"Where are on earth were you three?" asked Y/n, frowning. "And why are you laughing?"

"Oh Y/n," said Arabella gleefully, with tears in her eyes. "Snape...he just said to the whole train that he was in love with you! Then Malfoy dragged him off somewhere else, muttering something about Snape getting drunk. It was priceless!

"Bella," sighed Y/n.

"Didn't think Snape would still like a thing like you, L/n," came a familiar voice. All four girls turned around to see the famous Marauder and heartthrob of Hogwarts, James Potter, along with the rest of his gang.

"Shut up, Potter," snapped Y/n.

"Not again," said Violet, moaning. "Y/n, why can't you and James be friends and get it done with?"

"Because, Vi, I am not becoming friends with an egotistical jerk like Potter," snapped Y/n angrily. "You know, James, life would be a whole lot better if you didn't strut around the school like you owned the place. Really, why can't you be more like Harry?"

"Because my parents aren't dead because of some psychotic wizard, that's why," said James nonchalantly.

"How dare you!" growled Y/n.

"Will you guys grow up?" asked Jennifer, rolling her eyes. "Really, N/n, I expected you to be together with James. After all, you guys are in your third year already! And we're starting new subjects!" she cried gleefully.

"Yes, Divination and Care of Magical Creatures," said Y/n happily. James' jaw dropped.

"No way am I going to be in my two new subjects with you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Sirius, Remus, Peter and I signed up for the same subjects too!"

"How dare you!" cried Y/n, yet again.

"It won't be so bad," said Jennifer, staring dreamily at Remus.

"Well, at least your enemy isn't in all your classes!"

"That's because, apart from all the Slytherins, I don't have any enemies, N/n. Unlike you, making enemies as you go along."

"And it's because you and Remus will be snogging the whole time during Divination. I wonder who's the Divination professor."

"It's that fraud, Trelawney," said Sirius, informing them all. "She's the idiot who tells everyone they're going to die."

"Well, I don't need to be told now that I'm dying, since I already know," said Y/n grumpily.

"Arabella?" They all turned around to see Amos Diggory standing near their compartment door, and realized that they were having such a heated conversation that they barely heard the door slide open.

"Hello, Amos," said Arabella coldly.

"I was wondering if we're still on," he said sweetly.

"And you would think that, why?"

"Because no girl dumps me for very long," he replied smugly.

"Well, I'm together with Sirius again, and nothing's going to pull us apart," said Arabella, smiling at Sirius.

Amos scowled. "You little rat. No girl dumps Amos Diggory. I'm supposed to be the one who dumps them!" He suddenly clapped his hand over his mouth, realizing what he had just said.

"Don't you dare call her a rat, you...you..." Y/n struggled to find words to describe him.

"Ah, Y/n, I suppose you would like to go out with me to Hogsmeade? After all, you are a third year this year and perhaps we can get a bit of butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."

"No thank you, Amos, I think I'll pass on the offer," said Y/n coldly.

James breathed a sigh of relief, but unfortunately, everyone heard it. Sirius and the girls, minus Y/n, sniggered loudly, and Remus and Peter smiled thoughtfully. Y/n, however, was blushing as red as James was.

"Why would you care, James? You don't even like her!" snapped Amos.

"Well, we're getting along better than we used to, Diggory," said James, frowning.

"Whatever."

"You sound like a girl when you say that, Diggory," said Sirius angrily.

"So do you, Black."

"Well, I don't say 'whatever' all the time, Diggory."

"So...James," said Amos, sneering. "You like Y/n, huh? I thought you only went for the (not your hair color)."

James reddened. "Shut up, Diggory. I've never dated before in my life."

"What about Miss Deanna Jackson?"

"She was the one who gave me a Love Potion!"

"Yes, yes. And now y/n has caught your attention?"

There was a tense silence as James' knuckles tightened. Sirius squirmed uncomfortably and Y/n's e/c eyes were wide. When James was mad, he would take any action. To their surprise, his arms lowered, though still glaring at Amos.

"Get away, Diggory, before you'll be sorry."

Amos' eyes looked frightened, as he slid open the compartment door and slammed it shut behind him.

"Bloody brilliant, Jamie-boy!" cried Sirius, impressed. "You didn't even use violence?"

"Why would I, Sirius? It would frighten the ladies." He smiled warmly at the girls, who were hunched back near Remus and Peter, shaking.

"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.

Arabella smiled. "Yeah, James, we're fine. Thanks."

"For what?"

"For not using violence in front of us. You know—er—how we don't exactly like violence."

"Y/N LOVES JAMES!" cried Sirius suddenly, startling them all.

"Er—Sirius? That was totally random," stated his girlfriend, wrinkling her nose.

"I know that, Bella dear, but I am a random person, after all."

"And I don't love Y/n," added James grumpily.

"Yeah, you do," said Remus, now joining the conversation.

"Why are all you guys' favorite conversations about us?" asked Y/n rather snappily. "Do you ever give us any peace around here? And we're not even at Hogwarts! Goodness!" She collapsed into the chair again and took out Hogwarts, A History.

"Why do you bother reading that stuff?" asked James lazily, as he stared into the clear, blue September sky. "It's so...boring."

"It's fascinating, once you start reading it," mumbled y/n, her nose almost touching the page.

"Don't you read it every year, N/n, on the Hogwarts Express?"

"Well, you should re-read books, you know. It's good for the soul."

"I think that Quidditch Through the Ages is a good book," said James proudly. "I've read it twice."

"I've read Hogwarts, A History twenty times," said Y/n loftily, her nose still in the thick book. "Of course, I would have read it twice as much if you didn't bother me at Hogwarts twice as much..."

"Twenty times? Bloody hell, that's too many times!" cried James. "Why don't you have fun in life? Haven't I showed you fun yet this summer? I told you on the train home in our second year that I'd invite you over the summer to show you what fun really is about. And has all that time been wasted by schoolwork?"

Y/n slammed her book shut and opened her mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut. It was true that she had learned what fun really meant that summer—and all thanks to James.

"Fine, I admit it, I did learn what fun really meant, James. All thanks to you." With that, she hugged him briefly and returned to her book, smiling slightly with red cheeks.

Everyone else tried not to laugh at James' open mouth and red face. His face took on one of those dreamy looks reserved for Y/n, and he sighed happily. Arabella, along with Jennifer and Violet, had burst out laughing. The boys were still silent, smiling at their friend. Yes, James was definitely in love all right. They could all see it in his eyes and his every move. It was too obvious, though he wouldn't admit it at all.

"What all you all laughing at?" he asked, confused. That made them laugh harder and James more confused.

Y/n was blushing like crazy. "Er—you know, guys, maybe you should stop laughing."

Arabella grinned at her best friend evilly. "C'mon, N/n, kiss Jamie."

Y/n's smile faded. "WHAT?"

"Kiss him."

"NO WAY AM I GOING TO KISS JAMES POTTER! WHY THE HELL WOULD I DO THAT?"

"Geez, don't get so touchy, she was only joking," said Sirius, grinning.

"Well, she had better be!" exclaimed Y/n. "I'm not kissing Potter. Never."

"Is that a promise?"

Y/n hesitated. "No. Because I know we'll probably end up 'loving' each other. Just not now."

"Sirius Black, how can you eat so much?" asked Arabella, staring at her boyfriend as he gobbled down everything there was on the table.

"Hey," he said through a mouthful of pudding, "at least you don't have to worry about me becoming anorexic."

James and Remus snorted into their own Yorkshire pudding and Jennifer frowned.

"That's not a joking matter," she said firmly.

"Jen, don't worry, Sirius was just fooling like always," said Remus, a plead in his gray eyes as he reached out for her hand. "Don't take it seriously."

Jennifer smiled. "I suppose."

"Good."

James groaned. "You guys are always sweet on each other. Why don't you just get married and begone with it?"

They both glared at him. "Because we're way too young." Jennifer and Remus looked at each other in surprise.

"Y/n, why aren't you eating?" asked Violet, concerned.

Y/n sighed. She just wasn't in the mood to eat. Her thoughts were all jumbled together as she poked her fork into her potatoes, and bit her lip. The future. It was what was tormenting her and James' lives. If only they didn't get married and get on to hating each other for the rest of their lives. Then Harry would no longer exist and defeat evil...Oh, it was all so confusing!

"Are you all right?" asked Remus quietly.

"Oh!" she cried in a high-pitched tone. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."

"You don't sound like it," said James, frowning.

"Why would you care?" she snapped. "You hate me."

"I don't—" he began, but she cut him off and started to eat furiously, an appetite that would rival Sirius'.

"Whoa, slow down there, Flower!" he exclaimed, staring at Y/n. "You eat more than I do!"

"I don't think that's possible, Sirius," she said, grinning. "Want to have a contest?"

"You're on, girl."

Ten minutes later, Y/n was smiling triumphantly at Sirius, who was groaning over a bad stomachache.

"Go to Madame Pomfrey," she suggested, her eyes softening at the groaning boy.

"No, she'll perform surgery on me," he said, clutching painfully at his stomach.

"I'm sorry for making you do the stupid contest," Y/n offered.

Sirius shook his head. "Nah, I was too thick to accept the dare."

Arabella and James cleared their throats and Y/n jumped.

"What?" she asked, annoyed. "What did I do now?"

"You do know you guys are flirting, right?" asked Bella, rather testily.

"Uh...sorry Bella, that's your area of expertise. I don't 'flirt' with boys."

"Well, thanks for lying to me, James," said Arabella angrily, as James started to crack up, causing all the other Gryffindors to stare at them. "Now my best friend is mad at me and my boyfriend thinks I'm cracked."

"S-so sorry, B-Bella, b-but it's j-just t-too funny!" choked James, still laughing.

"Er—" It was one of the fifth year prefects, and she was looking at James like he was crazy.

"What?" he asked.

"Er—you know everyone else in the Great Hall already left, right?"

James looked around. Surely, everyone did leave, even Sirius, Remus, Peter, and the girls. He quickly rushed out of the Hall, and stopped in front of the Fat Lady, who sighed at the sight of him.

"Password? Dear me, it's another year, isn't it, James Potter?"

"Er—Sherbet Lemon?" he asked tentatively. It had been the password on the first day last year, so he assumed it would be this year, too.

"Certainly not!" the Fat Lady exclaimed.

"Er—oh damn, where's that prefect I was with a minute ago?"

"You mean me?" The girl was standing there, her prefect badge shining down all the way in the corridor.

"Yeah. What's the password?"

"Cornish Pixies," the girl said to the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open, revealing the old portrait hole leading to Gryffindor Tower.

"Jamie-boy! Where were you?" Sirius was running towards him, looking rather worried.

"All right, why'd you ditch me, Sirius?" asked James loudly.

"I didn't. Dumbledore announced something and told us to all go to bed. We all got up, and you were still zoned out somewhere, so I poked you. You said something about coming up later, so I went with the others. Then when you didn't show up later, I thought that you and Snape were dueling in the dungeons or something." He shrugged. "Where were you, anyway?"

"Trying to get into Gryffindor Tower. I didn't know the password."

"R-ight. Well, we'd better go up to bed, Jamie-boy. It's going to be a long day tomorrow. But we get to visit Hogsmeade this year!"

"Yeah. That's the only good thing besides Quidditch. And...our secret plan to become you-know-what."

"If Trelawney predicts my death one more time, I swear I'll kill her," muttered James, as he stared blankly into his star chart.

"What does it all mean?" asked Sirius, poking the same chart in front of him with his wand. "It makes no sense at all."

"That's because there is no sense to it, Siri-boy. So we'll make it up."

"Jamie, that's a genius plan! Ah, what would I do without you."

"You wouldn't be able to do anything, because I'm your savior."

"Er—right. So let's get started."

Half an hour later, both boys brandished their parchments, which were filled with fake predictions, proudly to the girls.

"Isn't it brilliant?"

"'Next Thursday, I will be attacked and eaten by the giant squid in the lake'," read Arabella, peering at Sirius' parchment. "Er—Sirius, it's too obvious that none of this is going to happen. You go to Azkaban because you betrayed James? That's ridiculous!"

"Maybe not." He shrugged. "Hey, I was running out of ideas! Let's see how you girls are going to bluff up the homework that Trelawney gave us."

"We don't have to," said Y/n practically, as she joined them. "We finished it two days ago. And it's all accurate too."

"You understand what the mad woman's trying to make us do?" asked James, his mouth sagging open?

"Yeah. Even though it's all a bunch of nonsense, we still know how to do it." Violet rolled her eyes. "It's not that hard."

"All you do is choose the planet that's two squares away from the one you're doing," said Jennifer, trying not to laugh. "It wasn't too hard to figure out."

"What? How come we never knew that?"

"I told you, Sirius, but you wouldn't listen," sighed Remus, shaking his head.

"You mean you finished too?" asked James furiously. "And you never told us how to do it?"

"I tried," said Remus, shrugging. "You two wouldn't listen, though."

"We would too!" exclaimed Sirius, pretending to look "injured".

"You said it was a bunch of crap," he said seriously.

James' eyes widened and he put his hand on Remus' mouth. "Sh...don't say it, Remie."

"Thanks a lot, Remus," said Sirius sourly.

"Well, it is a bunch of crap," admitted Jennifer, trying to save her boyfriend from getting killed.

"Well, I'm glad you think so, Jen, because it's the truth," said Sirius proudly. The other three girls rolled their eyes.

Y/n and James were off in their own worlds again. It happened quite frequently, now that they started to have those dreams about Harry again. When James looked over Y/n, his stomach lurched. It had been two years since they've known each other, and they were already in their third year. He thought of Y/n as a friend now, not someone he hated. Of course, it was a ridiculous notion, for Y/n hated him, and he still didn't like her too much to be her friend. No...he wasn't ready just yet to become friends with Y/n.

"Hello? Earth to Y/n and James Potter!" said Sirius, waving his hand in front of their faces.

Both turned extremely red. "We're not Y/n and James Potter."

"Then who are you?"

"Y/n L/n and James Potter."

"You mean Y/n soon-to-be-Potter and James Potter."

James sighed, exasperated, and Y/n rolled her eyes.

"Talk about idiots," she muttered.

"James!" exclaimed Sirius suddenly, scrambling to his feet. "We—have to work on the potion."

The girls gave them quizzical looks as James' face went white. He dragged the other three boys with them to their dormitory, while Jennifer raised her eyebrows.

"Do you guys have a feeling they're not telling us something?"

"I always have that feeling with them," said Arabella, rolling her eyes.

"Probably doing something against the school rules...again," said Y/n, bored. "Is it ever surprising, Jenny? They're born troublemakers."

"Yeah...but I have a feeling that they're doing something, well, illegal," said Jennifer uneasily. "I'm going to spy on them."

"Whatever you say, Jen," said Violet, staring off into space.

"Are any of you coming with me?" asked Jennifer incredulously. Her face fell when the three other girls shook their heads.

"What's the point?" asked Arabella lazily. "They're probably plotting their next prank on Snape."

Jennifer left and returned five minutes later, her face looking disappointed.

"Well, what did you learn?" asked Y/n, her nose buried in Hogwarts, A History.

"Nothing," she replied grumpily. "Even Remie wouldn't tell me anything, and he always tells me something about what they plan. They all told me to go away and mind my own business when I asked."

"Potter's going to be in for it," said Y/n, through gritted teeth. "Oh, how I'd love to get my hands on that ego of his and shrink it so he'll feel so ashamed of himself that he'll—"

"N/n, I'm surprised at you! After actually staying at his house over the summer and sharing a bed with him, you still hate him?" Arabella put on a surprised face. "How could you?"

"First of all, Belle, I did not share a bed with James Henry Potter. Second of all, I—"

"What's this about Jamie-boy's middle name?" asked Sirius curiously, as the boys came into the common room.

"What's it to you, Black?" snapped Jennifer. "You're the ones who kicked me out when I was just wondering what you were doing."

"Yeah—um, that's what we—er—came here to talk to you about." Sirius shifted nervously and glanced over to Remus.

"Jenny, you know I'm a"—he kept his voice down—"a werewolf."

"Yeah?" Jennifer was squinting at the foursome suspiciously.

"So—the guys decided to do something to help me," he continued nervously. "And—well—" He stared around at his three friends. "Guys, I can't do this."

"Then don't," said James, stepping forward. "Look, girls, we'll tell you when we're ready, but what we're doing is really dangerous, and we can't have you know just yet."

Y/n, Arabella, and Violet shrugged, but Jennifer still looked between the four.

"Why can't you tell us?" she asked, biting her lip. "Is it that important that you can't even tell your friends?"

"Look, Jen, we don't really care," said Arabella, standing up. "When they're ready, they can tell us, but for now, just let it go."

"You know, Remus means a lot to me," continued Jennifer, ignoring Arabella. "If you don't tell me what's wrong with him..."

"There's nothing wrong with him!" said Sirius quickly. "You know, we're just trying to help him during his transformations and—" He clapped his hand over his mouth in horror.

"You're trying to keep a werewolf in check?" asked Jennifer in disbelief. "You could get killed!"

"Jen," said Y/n softly, also stepping forward. "They're big boys, they can handle whatever they're going to do."

"I know, but they're so foolish, and Remus could bite any of them..." She trailed off, and ran to the girls' dormitory, tears spilling from her eyes.

Arabella rounded on the four boys like an angry hippogriff. "Thanks a bunch, you two." She, along with the other two girls, ran up to comfort Jennifer.

Remus stared at his friends, his eyes blank. "Now she hates me," he said bluntly.

"Remus, Jen will get over it," said James, trying to feel as confident as he sounded. "Er—it just needs time, like with Sirius and Bella."

"They were different," he said quietly. "Jenny, she can be stubborn sometimes."

James laughed uncomfortably. "Sirius and Bella are more stubborn than anyone we've known."

"I know. But still."

"We know, Remus. We'll help Jennifer understand."

"Those bloody prats," growled Arabella, putting her arm around Jennifer. "Why, I ought to kill 'em all. Especially that bloody Remus, oh how he'll get it..."

"Bells," said Y/n sternly. "Jen doesn't need this now."

"R-Remus, w-why won't he t-tell me w-what they're up t-to?" sobbed Jennifer.

"Because he's a bloody prat," said Arabella bitterly. Y/n glared at her.

"Maybe it's too important for them to tell us, Jenny. You know how they are, secretive about everything. Besides, we can't know everything about their personal lives; they're bound to have some privacy." She chuckled weakly.

Jennifer sniffed and wiped her eyes, smiling. "You're right Y/n. I shouldn't be moping around here, crying my eyes out for my own selfish reasons. Remus is a sweet guy; how can I ever dump him just because he won't tell me what he and his friends are up to? Oh, I'm so ashamed!" She buried her face in her arms, very red.

"Don't worry, Jen, Remus is the good sort," said Y/n comfortingly, "he'll forgive your little outburst."

"Thanks N/n, I'm going to go and find him."

Then everything ended just fine for both thirteen-year-olds.

Winter had arrived, and the eight teenagers often huddled near the fire when they did their homework. On this particular night, however, Arabella Figg was completely fed up with her life.

"Maybe I'll burn myself like they did in the Witch Burnings of the Sixteenth Century," she said gloomily.

"You're thirteen and you want to commit suicide?" asked James in disbelief. He was sitting next to the fire (literally) and reading 101 Ways to Improve Your Quidditch Skills.

"I just can't wait until the holidays," she said, looking depressed.

"Mum is actually letting me stay for the holidays," said Y/n, looking cheerful.

James groaned. "I'm staying too. That means I have to be with you for two weeks?"

"How pleasant," said Y/n sarcastically, sinking into her chair again. "Well, I still have to finish my Charms essay."

"Are you kidding me?" asked James incredulously. "You already have two rolls of parchment! How much more do you have to write?"

"You see, Potter, this is why you're failing Charms," said Y/n practically, scribbling on her parchment. "You never go the extra mile."

"What mile? Is this some sort of race?"

Jennifer and Arabella both slapped their foreheads at the boys' confused faces. "Daft," they both muttered.

"It's a figure of speech," said Y/n, rolling her eyes. "Going the extra mile means doing more than required."

"Oh...well, in that case, no, I never run the extra mile," said James, obviously still confused. Arabella burst out laughing.

"So this is how daft you've become!" she exclaimed, chuckling.

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. What idiots for friends I have, she thought. Poor Potter – though he does look kind of cute when he's confused. Yeah, I think this is from lack of sleep.

Y/n was twisting and turning as she tried to sleep. Suddenly, the world became blissful for her as she dreamed she was bouncing on clouds, and she sat up straight, drenched in sweat.

"I have to go back to sleep..." she mumbled to herself thickly, as she drifted to sleep again.

"Y/n, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off..."

It was the sound of James panicking and Y/n crying as a jet of green light burst through and James hit the floor, dead.

"JAMES!" Y/n screamed, jumping out of bed. Arabella, Jennifer, and Violet woke up, their eyes wide.

"Y/n? What's wrong?"

"James...he's dead...he's dead..." mumbled Y/n. "He's dead, I have to go see him. He protected me and Harry, and he's dead."

The three other girls exchanged dark glances at each other.

"It was only a dream, Y/n," said Arabella quietly. "Maybe you should go see Dumbledore again—"

"Good idea, Bells, I'll do that," said Y/n quickly, and tore out of bed. In the common room sat James, wide-eyed.

"James? What are you doing here?" James turned around, surprised to see Y/n.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?"

"I had a dream," they both said in unison.

Y/n stared at him. "James—you're alive," she choked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, confused. "You're alive."

"And I'm supposed to be dead?"

"I had a dream about you trying to protect Harry and then...dying, trying to risk your life saving him."

"I had a dream about you trying to hold off the wizard who killed us and give me time to take a run for it with Harry."

James held on to Y/n tightly. "Look, Lily, we're both alive, and that's a good thing. Now, let's get back to bed before we fall asleep in Transfiguration tomorrow."

Y/n chuckled. "Let's."

"N/n, are you okay?" asked Arabella, as she nearly pounced on her best friend. "You—you just disappeared and I was so worried and..."

"It's all right, Bella, I'm fine," said Y/n, getting choked by her friend. "Now, if you'd let go of me..."

"Oh—right," said Arabella, blushing.

The next day, Y/n and James weren't talking. They had just had an intimate talk last night, and James had gotten himself his very first girlfriend, not counting Deanna. He had finally noticed how many girls there were at Hogwarts, he told Sirius, and how many he'd have to go through to find his "true" girlfriend. Y/n was furious about what he had said, and didn't talk to him for the rest of the week. She hated Melissa Andrews, the girl James was currently "dating".

"He chose that little idiot after all the nice girls he could have chosen," said Y/n furiously. "What about Lucieta Samson? She's in Ravenclaw and the nicest girl ever!"

"James is an idiot, Y/n, what's said is said," said Arabella practically. "He only goes through the idiotic girls in this school and would never look at someone like poor Lucy twice. I wish he'd look at you like he looks at Andrews, Y/n. You're perfect for someone with a big ego like him."

Lily laughed bitterly. "I would never want James Potter to look at me that way. Who'd marry him anyway?"

"Well, you are," admitted Jennifer, trying to look for her wand.

"Who knows, maybe he finally grew up when I married him."

"James Potter, grown up?" exclaimed Violet, surprised. "What madness is this?"

"Good job, Vi!" cried Jennifer in approval. "Let's claim this day as 'Speak-Ill-of-James-Potter' Day!"

Y/n snorted. "You guys are such dorks."

Jennifer, Violet, and Arabella linked arms. "Aren't we though? Dorks and proud of it!"

Y/n laughed.

"Hey Y/n, can I talk to you?" asked James nervously. He knew that Y/n was furious with him and was afraid to "liven" her up, as Sirius called it.

"No," said Y/n angrily. "Go away Potter."

James grinned. "Oh, touchy. Come on L/n, you can't hide away from me forever."

"Oh, yes I can," said Y/n defiantly. She pushed him away and walked off to her next class—Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Hey! Wait! I haven't finished yet!" Y/n heard James calling her, but she ignored him completely. Why would she want to talk to him? He had the biggest ego in the world, not to mention having about groups of twenty girls swarming him every day. She was sick of it all.

"Why would I want you to finish?" she asked him coldly, as James caught up with her. "You have the biggest ego out of every male there is in this school, and you take advantage of all the girls who swarm around you. What's your problem?"

"Y/n, I—"

"Stay away from me, James Potter. I don't want to be involved with players like you. Who knows, maybe I'll be in one of those traps of yours like all those other girls." She swung her bag over her shoulder and entered the classroom.

"Am I late, Professor?" she asked, ignoring James' feeble protests.

"No, no, Y/n, you're right on time," replied Professor Wickham, smiling at his student. "Now, where is Mr. Potter—?"

As if right on cue, James burst into the classroom. "Professor," he gasped. "I—I hope I'm on time."

"Yes, James, right on time. However, I would advise you and Ms. L/n to maybe arrive a little earlier next time." His eyes twinkled as he winked at Y/n and James as they sat down.

"Yes, Professor," said Y/n politely. James grunted and took his seat beside Sirius, while Y/n sat next to Arabella.

"Where were you?" mouthed Arabella, as Y/n sat down.

"I'll tell you later," Y/n mouthed back.

As class started, Y/n took her dutiful notes as usual, while Arabella slept (as usual). Remus was too absorbed in his note taking, and Peter too absorbed in sleeping, to notice Sirius and James' serious (no pun intended) conversation.

"What was that all about?" whispered Sirius, as he took some random notes about goblin rebellions.

James was trying his best to avoid the topic. "Sirius, why are you writing about goblin rebellions?" he asked hastily. "This is Defense Against the Dark Arts, not the History of Magic class."

"What—oh! Well, you know, all the notes are the same, so you may as well say the same thing," said Sirius complacently. "Now, about you and Y/n..."

"She won't listen to me," confessed James. "She totally hates me."

"She's always hated you, Jamie-boy," hissed Sirius, rolling his eyes.

"She's disliked me, not hated me," corrected James.

"You even said it was the same thing." Sirius' voice was dripping with sarcasm and boredom.

"Well, I don't blame her," said Sirius, surprising James. "I mean, you totally ignored her today at breakfast when you guys had your little 'conversation' last night. Then you called her a you-know-what, and I would be upset about it, too."

"I apologized," argued James.

"So? You're not acting like you're sorry, James."

"You sound like you're on her side," said James grumpily.

"That's because I am on her side, Jamie." Sirius' voice was very serious now and very unlike his usual playful tone.

Across the other side of the room, Y/n and Arabella were having their own note-passing conversation (Y/n had pointedly refused to talk in whispers).

You can't stay mad at James forever, Y/n.

Oh yes I can, Bells. I can stay mad at him until the end of the world.

But Y/n, if you stay mad at him forever, what about Harry? He'll never be born! And it's his destiny to live in this world.

::sigh:: Yeah, you're right, Bella, but...I just can't forgive him now. Do you know what that idiot called me?

What?

Five letters, begins with a 'b'.

He didn't!

He did.

Why, that little...

Sh! Bella, quiet!

Why? This is written on paper, Y/n, not said out loud. ::rolls eyes::

Yeah, you're right. Hey, Wickham is looking our way. Let's ditch this paper.

That would be a very good idea.

"I'm dying to know what they've written about," said James eagerly, as the bell rang. He grabbed the piece of parchment that the girls carelessly threw in the wastebasket and read it, dropping it back afterwards.

"What did it say?" asked Sirius curiously, looking from the basket to James' red face.

"L/n told Arabella what I told Y/n," said James, shaking with anger. "Why, that little—"

"James, you've been treating Y/n horribly," said Remus quietly. "Tomorrow is the first day of the holidays, and I suggest you go apologize to her."

"No way will I spoil my first day of the holidays apologizing to her."

"Come on, four-eyes, give in." They turned around to see Arabella glaring at all four of them.

"You hate me now," said James bluntly.

"No." He turned to look at her, surprised. "You just don't get it yet, James Potter. I know you'll give in to Y/n someday, and do whatever she wants, but not yet. You need time, James. Time is what's pushing you and Y/n farther than you should be." With that said, she left without another word.

"That girl really never ceases to amaze me," commented James, still dazed after Bella left.

"Yeah, isn't she great?" asked Sirius dreamily. "I am so glad she's my girlfriend. We belong together; I know it."

"So does the rest of the school, Sirius."

Sirius whacked James in the head. "Hey, shut it Potter. I have a proper girlfriend, unlike that Melissa Andrews. What were you thinking, dating something like her?"

James shrugged. "I'm planning to dump her tomorrow anyway. Bella is right, Sirius. The only thing that's standing between Y/n and me is time. And I'm not going to let it stand there forever."

Y/n was awake early the next day. Christmas was in one week and she would spend it without her family. Of course, she was slightly unhappy that her parents wouldn't be there, but joyous that Petunia wouldn't. And none of her friends had left for the holidays, which was a good thing, for they could spend it all together.

"I'm glad—and surprised—to see you up early, Bella," she said, grinning, as her half-awake friend stared across the table. Y/n looked over to see what she was staring at and saw Melissa Andrews crying by herself at the Hufflepuff table. She rolled her eyes and started to eat, ignoring the blue-eyed blonde crying her eyes out.

"I'll bet you Potter dumped her," she informed Arabella. "He could never keep a girlfriend, ever."

"I actually feel a bit bad for Andrews," said Arabella. She slapped her forehead and grinned stupidly at Y/n. "I think I really needed that."

Y/n rolled her eyes just when the rest of her friends and the Marauders entered the Great Hall.

"Oi! Potter!" she called, as he passed her seat. "I suppose even Melissa Andrews isn't good for you, huh? I guess you'll be going through the Slytherins next."

James glared at her and sat down next to Violet. "I didn't know she was that evil. I think L/n could pass for a Slytherin," he said, to no one in particular.

Violet gasped and glared at him, moving to a different spot. He heard Peter sigh audibly and looked around at everyone.

"Why is everyone so mad at me?" he asked Sirius.

"Because you've been acting like a great prat, James, no offense."

James turned to Sirius and said quietly, "I'm going to apologize to her right now."

He got up and walked to where Y/n was sitting. Her three friends looked up and saw him towering over them, and nodded their heads, smiling. James cleared his throat just when he reached Y/n, but Y/n jumped up and ran out of the Great Hall. He sighed, and followed her, assuming that she went back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked as he approached the portrait, panting.

"Pig snout," he gasped, clutching his chest for breath.

He rushed up to the girls' dormitory where Y/n was sitting on her bed, staring at nothing in particular.

"Y/n, you have to forgive me," said James, a pleading look in his eyes. "I—I broke up with Melissa. I knew she wasn't the one for me, I just wanted to impress you."

Y/n's head shot up and stared into his eyes. "To impress me?" she croaked. "Why?"

"I have no idea," admitted James. "I've been a great prat, I know, and I'm really sorry. Please forgive me."

Y/n sighed. "I may as well, since you're giving me no peace at all. I forgive you."

"Thanks." James breathed a sigh of relief. "Friends?"

"In your dreams, Potter."

They walked into the Great Hall together, where their friends were eagerly discussing something in whispers. They grinned when they saw Y/n and James standing next to each other.

"Are you guys friends?" asked Violet hopefully.

"Nope," they said in unison. "But we don't hate each other anymore."

"So do you like each other?" asked Sirius, confused.

"Nope."

"Then what are you guys?"

"We dislike each other," they said together. Everyone rolled their eyes and laughed.

"Well, I guess some things never change," said Arabella, looking hopeless.

"That's a good thing," replied Remus, grinning.

The six friends smiled at Y/n and James chatting and arguing together, knowing that the two would give in...someday, if not now. And they would be in for a love story greater than life itself.

tags; @thecurlyhairedwinchester

masterlist

[a7xlizardqueen]

TITLE: Aura Malfoy

CHAPTER: 2/?

PAIRING: No pairing yet. Eventually OFC/Remus Lupin, OFC/Sirius Black, OFC/Seamus Finnigan, OFC/Harry Potter

RATING: NC-17/MA – seriously, do not read this if you are under 18!

SUMMARY: I don’t like writing summaries. I’m not good at it. This is a canon-following story. I use both the books and the movies. Will be mostly set in the Golden Trio era, with memories and flashbacks from the Marauders era.

NOTES/WARNINGS: It starts out pretty tame. Follows to the plot of the books for the most part. There will eventually be violence, torture, mentions of PTSD, mentions of sexual assault, there will be smut, death, as I go along I will add more warnings. Again, please do not read if you are under 18, or are easily triggered.

-X-X-X-

Aura squeezed through the crowd in to Flourish and Blotts, Felis trailing behind her. Unfortunately that day the bookshop was playing host to someone that Aura had known when she'd been at Hogwarts, someone that she hadn't been fond of.

The extremely blond, and infuriating, man stood at the back of the shop, flashing his award-winning smile. Aura attempted to ignore it all as she headed for the shelves in order to gather the rest of the books on the list that weren’t Lockhart's. Apparently the new Defense teacher had a crush.

"It can't be Harry Potter?" Lockhart shouted suddenly.

Aura spun around just in time to see a small, thin boy covered in soot pushed up and grabbed by Lockhart, his eyes wide with surprise. Aura couldn't help but notice that his eyes, even through his circular glasses were exactly like his mother's. Everything else about him was so like his father Aura almost felt as if she were looking at James again.

Lockhart posed and smiled as Harry continued to stand there, looking none too pleased with having a camera in his face.

"Ladies and gentlemen,” he called out again, waving the building into silence. “What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography, which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge," he paused to grin and give the crowd a chance to clap, "He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy!”

Aura had to shake her head, wondering whether she had heard correctly. Gilderoy Lockhart was going to be the DADA teacher at Hogwarts? What the hell was Albus playing at? He bloody well knew that Lockhart’s books were all a fiction, he’d been a very poor student when he’d been at Hogwarts, and was likely to be an even poorer teacher.

Gilderoy handed Harry a stack of shiny new books, which he took begrudgingly before he was shoved back in to the crowd. Aura lost sight of him for a moment before he reappeared at the front of the store, next to a little girl with red hair and a cauldron. She nudged Felis forward, slowly making their way through the crowds who were now lining up to have their books signed by Lockhart.

When Aura looked up again she caught sight of a man who haunted her nightmares, her brother Lucius. He stood in front of Harry, a blond boy with a surly look n his face at his hip. That must be his son Draco. The two of them were staring down their straight noses at Harry, now flanked by a group of other children. Aura stood still, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You must be Miss Granger. Draco's told me all about you, and your parents. Muggles, aren't they?"

Lucius sounded exactly the same; still as insolent and boastful as always. Another man approached the group. This one was rather meager-looking compared to Lucius' long combed hair and clean, crisp robes.

"Children, it's mad in here. Let's go outside," he said, no doubt hoping to stop the situation.

"Well, well, well, Arthur Weasley."

"Lucius," Arthur Weasley said stiffly, yet politely.

"Busy time at the Ministry. All those raids. I hope they're paying you overtime," he said as he grabbed an old tattered book from the red haired girl's cauldron, "Obviously not. Dear me. What's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it."

"We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of wizard, Lucius."

"Clearly. The company you keep, Weasley. And I thought your family could sink no lower."

Aura took a deep, calming breath before approaching the group, "I see some things never change, big brother."

Lucius spun around quickly to find his younger sister watching him. He flinched at the sight of her face.

"Still can't look at your handiwork, can you?" she smirked.

"Aura!" Lucius exclaimed, his demeanor falling for a moment.

"Thank you for letting me know that our father died."

"You were impossible to find."

"You knew how to get a hold of me. Why don’t you go ruin someone else’s day?"

Lucius snarled and turned back towards the Weasley's, "Here girl, it's the best your father can give you."

Without another glance Lucius turned and stalked out of the shop, his young son Draco fast behind him.

"Well, Aura Malfoy," Arthur Weasley greeted, "We all thought you were dead."

"Yes, well, for a time, so did I."

"'Scuse me," young Harry said politely, yet disbelievingly, "But are you Lucius Malfoy's sister?"

"Yes Harry, unfortunately I am."

"How do you know my name?"

"My dear boy, everyone knows your name."

-X-X-X-

Later that evening Aura and Felis were sitting down to a supper of yorkshire pudding and chips in their little country cottage. After the bookshop Aura had rushed Felis through the rest of the list and taken her straight home. It had been a very long time since she'd been out in public and the stress was clear on her face. Of course Felis hadn't noticed this and was still extremely excited about her first trip away from the cottage.

"Mummy, who was that boy in the bookshop?" she asked as she took a bite of a chip.

"Which one?" Aura sighed impatiently.

"The dirty one with the glasses."

"That was Harry Potter, dear."

"Who is he?"

"He is The Boy Who Lived. Long ago there was a very bad wizard who wanted to kill Harry. His mother died in order to save him."

"That's sad. Did you know her?"

Aura thought back to that day on the train when she'd met the little girl with large green eyes and bright red hair, "Yes I did."

"So he doesn't have a mother?" Felis said, looking down at her plate.

"Nor a father."

"That's very sad. He could probably use a friend."

Aura smiled weakly and patted her daughter's head, "Yes dear, I'm sure he could."

"And that tall scary man is your brother?"

"Unfortunately yes. And that was his son Draco. Don't listen to a word he says, if he’s anything like his father he won’t be a nice boy."

"Did your brother give you that scar?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Aura sighed and looked at her daughter who had gravy running down her chin, still so innocent and curious, "You're far too young to hear that story."

"Yes mum," Felis looked down at her plate, disappointed.

"One day, I promise."

Aura stood from the table, picked up the empty plates and took them over to the sink. Felis' small voice called over from the table.

"Mum, why won't you tell me about my father?"

She braced herself against the counter, her stomach churning. Taking a deep breath, she turned around, "You don't want to know your father."

She turned back around and began to rinse the gravy from the plates. This was something she could have done magically but at the moment Aura needed the distraction.

"Was he a bad man?"

Tears slipped from Aura's eyes as she clutched the ring in her pocket that she'd taken from Gringott's earlier that day. After Felis had found it Aura found that she couldn't leave it behind. There had been a time when this ring had signified the happiest time in her life.

"Yes, he was."

-X-X-X-

The day had finally come. Felis ran excitedly through the train station as Aura pushed the trolley. As Aura caught up to her daughter, she found Felis standing between platforms nine and ten looking very confused.

"Well, where is it?" Felis demanded.

"Come here," Aura smiled, "and follow right behind me."

Aura stood right in front of the column between platforms nine and ten. Felis grabbed onto the back of her robe as she walked straight and went right through the bricks as if they hadn't been there just before. One moment they had been standing in the modern King's Cross Station, and the next they were staring at a classic steam engine in bright shiny red surrounded by witches and wizards both young and old.

Aura helped Felis struggle with her trunk and cage before she knelt down and began tidying her hair and clothes. Felis scowled as her mother attempted to pat down her unruly waves.

"Won't your hair ever stay in place?" Aura sighed, "Now, have a good time on the train and make lots of friends. I'll see you when you get there. And remember, don't listen to your cousin."

"Yes mum," Felis rolled her eyes impatiently.

"All right, get going then."

With a final wave and a smile Felis jumped excitedly onto the train and began to weave her way through the many other students. Aura stood watching her for a few moments before turning to leave, only to be faced with the smug smile of her brother Lucius.

"Do you even know who her father is?" he said in his pompous voice that sounded so much like their father's.

"Good morning Lucius," Aura said politely.

"Not that it really matters who's she is. Neither one is better than the other. The Dark Lord, or the man who betrayed you for the Dark Lord."

-X-X-X-

Felis smiled weakly and apologized profusely as she bumped and weaved her way through the crowd of students on the train. She'd been peaking into compartments for close to a minute and hadn't yet found one that wasn't full. Finally she caught sight of a familiar red head. It was the little girl from the bookshop.

She was sitting in a compartment with the brown haired girl she'd seen in the bookshop as well, who amazingly enough had curlier and messier hair than Felis herself. They were also sitting with a very shy looking boy who's teeth stuck out of his face, he was holding a toad. Felis poked her head in and cleared her throat.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Of course!" said the brown-haired girl politely as she stood to help Felis lift her trunk into the baggage compartment.

"I'm Hermione by the way, Hermione Granger; and this is Ginny Weasley, and Neville Longbottom."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Felis Malfoy."

"So you're Draco's cousin then?" Ginny asked, curiously.

"Yes, but my mother said not to talk to him. Besides, he doesn't look like a very nice boy."

"No, he isn't." Hermione said, "I wonder where Ron and Harry are."

"They were right behind mum and dad and me. Maybe they found a different compartment?" Ginny shrugged.

"Your mother's Aura Malfoy?" Hermione asked and Felis nodded, "I swear I've read that name somewhere before, but I can't remember."

"I know who she is," Neville said quietly, "My gran told me all about her."

Felis glanced at the boy curiously, wondering how he could know about her mother when she herself barely knew anything about her. Her head began to pound as Neville continued to talk.

"She was accused of being a Death Eater. They found her hidden away in You-Know-Who's main base of operations. She claimed she was a prisoner, but no one believed her because she was in fairly good health. Well, except for the scar on her face."

"That can't be right," Felis objected, "My mother would never have been a Death Eater. She said that You-Know-Who was a very bad man who killed her friend. She said that her brother gave her that scar."

"Then why wouldn't she tell anyone about what happened? Why wouldn't she tell anyone about why she was there? Why wouldn't she tell anyone who the father of her mysterious child was?"

-X-X-X-

Felis had remained quiet for the rest of the train ride. Hermione and Ginny had tried to talk to her but she couldn't think about anything other than what Neville had told her. Could her mother have really been a Death Eater? Her whole family had been. But the mother she knew would never hurt a fly. She'd never seen her mother use her wand for anything other than cooking and cleaning and various other mundane spells. And if what Neville said was true, who was her father?

Felis' thoughts never strayed until the train had stopped at Hogsmeade Station and they began to depart the train. Hermione and Neville went off together as they were not First Years. It was already dark out so Ginny and Felis had to follow a lantern light held by an extremely large man.

"Ron told me about him!" Ginny whispered, "That's Hagrid. Apparently he had a pet dragon last year!"

Mention of a dragon, added to the mystical allure of their location, made Felis completely forget about the train. They followed Hagrid through a dark pathway that led down to a large lake. Her and Ginny climbed into a boat with a very blonde girl. As the boats began to magically drift away from the docks they rounded a corner and Felis finally saw the Hogwarts castle for the first time. In the dark, the castle almost looked scary except for that the windows glowed a wonderfully warm and comforting orange colour.

The boats continued to glide across the lake and Felis could have sworn she saw a large tentacle break the surface of the water. After a few minutes the boats came to a stop at another dock and the First Years all climbed out and began to follow Hagrid up a set of stairs until they were led into a small room.

"Wait jus' here. Professor McGonagall 'll be by shortly," Hagrid said in his pleasantly gruff voice.

Not more than a minute later a tall, severe-looking witch came gliding in to the room. She held her back very straight, and wore a tall black pointed hat, and green tartan robes. She looked down her nose, through a pair of square spectacles, at the group of First Years.

"You will follow me in to the Great Hall. Straight line please."

Felis could only presume that this was Professor McGonagall, as the woman had not introduced herself. She spoke in a tone that immediately had the First Years scrambling into a line and they hurried after her. There were many gasps as the group entered the hall. There were four long tables, each full of students in their house colours. At the end of the hall was another table, running perpendicular to the four, raised on a dais. There Felis could see Dumbledore sitting in a large, handsome chair.

Felis stared all around her. This place was the most stunning thing she'd ever seen in her life. The room was so large, it could probably have fit her little cottage home inside it a hundred times or more. The ceiling reflected the starry night sky outside as thousands of candles hung in the air above their heads. They came to an abrupt stop in front of the table at which Dumbledore sat. Professor McGonagall turned around with a piece of parchment in her hand.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Colin Creevey."

Felis barely listened as names were called out. She was still staring all around her and at the sorting hat who seemed to have a mouth somehow. She wondered if it needed to eat. She continued to ignore the sorting until she caught the eye of her mother sitting at the head table, staring at her with an expression of terrible fear.

-X-X-X-

Aura sat at the head table next to Madame Poppy Pomfrey. She'd arrived around mid-day in Hogsmeade before making the long walk up to the castle. Dumbledore had greeted her in the Entrance Hall and went with her up to the Hospital Wing to introduce her to Madame Pomfrey whom she'd never met before.

Now she sat waiting for Felis and the rest of the First Years to come through the doors into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. As much as she tried to smile and socialise with Poppy and the professors she couldn't help but feel dread weighing on her heart. She wasn't sure she wanted to be here when Felis was sorted.

Her thoughts were halted abruptly as the doors opened with a creak and the reassuring face of Minerva McGonagall appeared, followed by a group of intimidated looking children. Of course Aura wasn't at all surprised to see that Felis didn't look intimidated. She'd never been fearful in her life.

As Minerva began to call out names the pounding in Aura's head grew louder and louder. She prayed that they would call Felis by the name she'd given to Dumbledore.

"Felis Malfoy," Minerva called.

Felis stepped up to the stool without hesitation and threw the hat onto her head with such enthusiasm that she earned a few chuckles. Aura stared at the hat, willing it to speak, as the pounding in her head grew louder and louder. She found herself gripping her wedding ring, which she had hung on a chain around her neck, so hard that it began to hurt the back of her neck.

"Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat called out after what seemed like an hour, and the entire Gryffindor table burst out in cheers and awed whispers.

Aura's breath left her all in one moment. She sat through the rest of the Sorting in a state of numbness. She was pleased that Felis had been sorted in to Gryffindor, like herself, but on the other hand that had been the same house that her husband had been sorted into. At this point she wasn't sure if Gryffindor was any better of an omen than Slytherin would have been. Aura was shaken out of her thoughts at the sound of Dumbledore's speech.

"I would also like to introduce some new staff members," Dumbledore called out, "Aura Malfoy will be joining Madame Pomfrey as a nurse in the Hospital Wing." He paused for the students to applaud, "And our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is none other than Gilderoy Lockhart."

Aura held back a groan as she stood along with Lockhart. She tilted her head as the students clapped, however Lockhart did a fanciful bow, smiling stupidly. Soon after this the food appeared and Aura forgot for a short time all her fears. She'd forgotten how good the food was at Hogwarts and ate more heartily than she'd done in years. She also noticed that Felis seemed to be getting along quite well with a couple girls at the Gryffindor table which helped to waylay her fears a bit.

[portkcysa]

“a hand outstretched across the plane aisle, a constant warm presence, a smile so wide your face aches for days, bouncing a baby up and down on your knee, responsibility laden on your shoulders, bubblegum, a steady hand in all things.“ – ( richard madden, twenty-six, cismale, he/him. ) frank longbottom? yes, i have more information about them. the twenty-six year old pureblood used to attend hogwarts as a hufflepuff. nowadays, they’re an auror, and are currently a order of the phoenix member. from what i’ve heard, they can be quite observant and loyal, but also forgetful and strong-willed. from their records, i can also see that their best subject at school was transfiguration. ( ellie, 18, she/her, gmt. ) – CANON

you may cry, you may laugh, you may feel all things and let yourself breathe through them all, but that does not make you any less a man. your life is glorious, soft, not stern. warmth. enveloping.

quick facts

alignment: lawful good. amortentia: rose perfume on the air. the smell of alice’s shampoo. the yorkshire pudding his mum makes. green tea. baby smell. mbti: esfj. patronus: a labrador. boggart: losing alice. losing neville. soul type: the caregiver. wand: ebony. phoenix tail feather. 8 inches. described as supple, suited to combative magic and transfiguration. zodiac sign: leo. mythological figure: apollo. vice: pride. virtue: charity.

drifters

01. Frank’s never met his dad. He only, really, knows his name: Dominick Francis Longbottom. His mother rarely talked about him - he grew up, alone, with just her.

Dominick died before Frank was born. You see, Dominick was a very highly respected Auror, top of his field, known for his flair for excellent spellwork and a famed inability to sit still. He’d been out on assignment, integrating the group known as the Knights of Walpurgis, which is now known, more commonly, as the inner circle of the Death Eaters. He’d managed to pull it off for years, keeping his and his wife’s political positions to themselves, keeping out of the limelight when any purist-inclined violence made the headlines.

Augusta, of course, was less than pleased by the fact that he kept late hours, and woke up, some days, as early as 4 to head to the Aurors office. She was six months pregnant, in the end, when things went down the drain.

Dominick hadn’t even seen it coming.

One of the other Aurors - young, easily fooled, impressionable - had overheard one of his conversations with the Head Auror at the time. He’d been duped, you see. Duped into telling one of the people they’d been escorting to Azkaban if there were any weasels.

He’d seemed like a good guy, despite the crime he’d been imprisoned for, because he’d get years in Azkaban for it. (Nobody really gave a shit about trading useless Dragon eggs anyway.)

He’d been killed less than two days later.

He’d never even got to say goodbye - he’d been working for three days straight, and hadn’t even been to the Auror office in a week, but the damage was done and he never even saw it coming.

Augusta suspects it was Yaxley, but Frank’s never trusted Avery, nor the Lestrange’s, and he never was told how his dad was found. Just that his dad was dead before he was born, and that he looked like him. (The same jaw, the same smile, the same dark brown hair and grey streak.)

Frank visits the grave whenever he can, and talks to him as if he’s still there, still alive.

He tried, once, to get access to the files around his death. He didn’t get very far - Moody pulled him aside, hand on his elbow, to tell him there was no point - he knew, from experience, that all that it stirred up was rage. And Frank was better than that.

Frank wishes he’d gotten to meet his dad. He hopes that he’d be proud of him - that he’d be proud of the man he’s become. He knows his mum is, despite how she wheedles at him, and preens, and all the tough love she’s given him over the years. It’s always been just the two of them. The lone Longbottom’s, the ones who stranded themselves as far away from London as they could get without moving out of the country.

That was how they were known: the silent onlookers, the ones who rarely came out of their home but when they did, they sought justice in every way they could.

02. Frank wasn’t, exactly, surprised when he was sorted into Hufflepuff.

His magic had come through late - he supposes it’s nothing to do with how his mother raised him (an iron fist, that vulture hat outlasting the ages despite the sad fact that she was merely 32 and already a widow –) but entirely to do with how he viewed himself.

He’d never been a popular kid. He hadn’t got many friends, just the little boy that lived three villages over, the exact same age as he was, the one whose dad had up and left his mum.

He was shy, too honest, and considered a little weird - his mum didn’t send him to primary school, spoke with a proper accent where Frank had a burgeoning Scottish one, and he could do things the other kids couldn’t. He rarely played outside, and the little marbles he played with had once blown up in another kids’ face. Needless to say, that spelled a lonely childhood for Frank.

Frank didn’t mind, though. He had the horses, and the cows, and the chickens, and the dogs. His family may not have been big people-wise, but he had an affinity for animals, and plants, and if his mother hadn’t been sure he was a wizard, he would’ve ended up a farmer.

His first actual display of magic was when the tree in their garden collapsed over the road in and out of the village. It nearly crushed their next door neighbours and their tiny, yellow car, and before anybody could even figure out what they were going to do, it had completely vanished.

(Or, as Frank would tell his mother, “I made it burst, mam! It didn’t disappear! It exploded!”)

It wasn’t much of a surprise when Augusta smoothed his hair back and kissed him on the forehead, that rare grin climbing onto her face.

Pride, shining in her eyes.

03. Auror training was the bane of Frank’s life. All he wanted, all he ever wanted to do, all he could imagine himself doing, was being out there, saving lives.

Of course, his best friend jokingly reminded him that if he wanted to go out that fast, he should’ve just signed up for the Hit Wizard programme and taken the risk that he’d end up dead within a week (an unfortunate downside, occasionally, for new Hit Wizards and Witches.)

He knew he was talented enough. He knew that he was smart enough.

He knew he was good at thinking on his feet, he knew that they could use a man like him because he was loyal, pain-stakingly so, and he’d do anything for the cause, sacrifice or be anything they asked him to be.

There was already a target on his back, so why the hell not push him through training faster than the others.

(His last name was the target.)

They were running out of Aurors, as is. More and more kept leaving. They couldn’t do it, they said. They couldn’t live with the reality they were being faced with. They couldn’t risk their families lives like this, they couldn’t have a target painted on their back for the badge they held in their hands. They couldn’t face the threats that were slowly trickling in, the heat that was turning up and up and up.

Frank couldn’t blame them. They weren’t cowards. They were good people, who had suffered enough, who had gone through enough.

He was saddled with nothing, nothing that he felt was worth it. Worth the risk of losing lives. It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what they wanted. But he stuck it out, regardless. He gave himself goals to meet, Aurors to shadow, people to impress.

It made him a success. It made him good at his job.

(And good at the things he did on the side as well.)

04. He’s got the worst habit of attracting strays.

Okay, it’s not like that - not dogs, or cats, or anything. But people. The ones with nowhere left to go. The ones who are either not involved with their families, or those who have lost them.

He always has money on him. More money than he’ll ever need on a day to day basis, but enough to sustain someone for a month, or two. He’s always got his eye out. Always willing to give whatever he can, his money, his time, his effort. (He’s gotten himself into a spot or two, here and there.)

He’d do anything for his fellow Order members.

Anything. When they need help, Frank is always the one they know they can call. (Or, rather, just show up on his and Alice’s doorstep, because he’s known for crumbling at the sight of a friend in need.)

The Longbottom family have always had a lot of money. That’s not to mention his mother’s wealth in herself - she’s the last recorded Selwyn from the main male lineage (and she’s not related to that Umbridge woman, Merlin forbid –) and inherited the entire estate, as well as all the money they had invested in Borgin and Burke’s and several, very successful stores all along Diagon Alley (the least of which being Flourish and Blott’s.)

Some’d say it’s stupidity. That he’s so open, with things like that.

Others? They’d say he’s just too full of kindness. A tap, that overflows, consistently, until it seems like there’s going to be nothing left, but it’s bottomless. A bottomless well of kindness, fed into by a river of kindness, fed into by a sea of kindness.

He does what he can, for the people that he knows have nothing, not because he can relate. But because he just has to.

He can’t sit idly by while people are struggling. No matter the reason.

He’s too selfless. Too ready to give everything that he has. (Some part of him knows that it all stems from Augusta. From Dominick. From the love that he received, the love he never got to feel in anything other than photographs, and memories that never were.)

There’s always been a part of him that wants to prove his mother wrong. That softness can be just as good as sternness, and now he gets the chance to do just that.

constants

frank longbottom, in all things, is a ray of sunshine.

his softness, often taken for weakness, is one of his greatest strengths, over which he has laboured for many, many years.

he’s an only child. he supposes it means he’s always been spoiled, but he hasn’t.

he’s worked hard to get where he is, he hasn’t taken any handouts from his mother (who would never dream of giving him one anyway -) and there is a great sense of pride that he’s proved her wrong, about sternness being the only way to get things done.

(meanwhile, augusta is a part of the order, so - yes. there have been quite a few arguments over the order itself.)

he’s a lover of many things, including plants.

(also alice longbottom, but that’s a given, i mean, look at her --)

he’s worked so hard to become an auror, you guys. it’s been his dream, since childhood, since he learned about his father and his job, and despite his fate, pushed himself so, so hard to make his mother proud, and to feel the pride that he knows his father is feeling, where-ever he is, now.

really does enjoy his work. 

(it’s super dangerous, but, when isn’t something frank likes, dangerous? he’s insane, absolutely so, but also adorably so.)

born and raised in scotland, but also surrounded by muggles. so, not a magical neighbourhood. scotland is? still his home, really. hogwarts is, too, but that’s kind of secondary to the little cottage he and his mother lived in. where she still lives, actually, and insists that she’s never to be moved.

joined the order soon after graduation - he was approached by dumbledore, because he does have a particular skillset dumbledore finds particularly useful. 

can/does smuggle death eater related case files home with him. the good ruse is that he’s forgetful af, and so is prone to just forgettin stuff anyway (nev inherits this, his poor babe,) and he knows it’s dangerous, but there’s no law really inhibiting it... that’s his logic, anyway.

best friends with kingsley shacklebolt and hestia jones. grew up with them as brief companions, but spent hogwarts with them, as well as alice, and the four are tig HT.

was in the duelling club, but didn’t really? like the spotlight. aka evidence why he doesn’t want to be head auror, but he’s perfectly happy being just a member of the order and an auror, but is a very skilled dueller. incredible, really. don’t mess with the longbottom’s. he inherits it from his mother. 

excells in dark magic identification, tracking and transfiguration. there isn’t a spell frank hasn’t heard of, and if there is, it’s likely because it’s being tested in the department of mysteries, and therefore, cannot be discussed.

neville is... frank’s world. he refuses to leave him the same way his father left him. he refuses to do that. he refuses the possibility that he’ll die, and end up leaving a widow and a son behind. he plans to live a long, happy life, with his wife, and his son.

frank re: alice

his dream

will she ever let him breathe?

that moment when the dream girl is his WIFE

he -

is he living or not? he doesn’t know

she smiles like this and his heart aches

seeing her with neville is the greatest feeling in the universe

if they ever went abroad on holiday he’d lose his damn mind

is she teasing him???? he’s dying slowly

alice’s hufflepuff pride, man

imagine this as frank giving alice a flower i want to CRY

going anywhere with this  like 

HER GLASSES HE’S GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST

ugh his heart

he’s compromised

taking her on a tour of where he went on childhood holidays

you know when you see someone so attractive you struggle to breathe? yeah frank knows the feeling

he’s in LOOOVE

"got you.”

everyone: frank, breathe

let him be happy with her for the rest of his life

her SMILE he’s combusting internally

will he ever let go? #no

them together is. his fave thing

her laUgH

the way he looks at her? legendary

[eatingexeter]

You know those days, between the seasons, where there’s just enough warmth yet still a chill in the air? There’s the lure of a country walk to inhale fresh air and appreciate nature as she removes her winter layer or gets ready to batten down the hatches.

That feeling seems to envoke the need to find a resting place so as to reward yourself for said walk, or cosy up to comfort yourself if the rain fell. A perfect place to fulfil any such  need or even just as an excuse to get out of the house if the walk had not been possible at all, is The Swan at Bampton.

Situated just outside Tiverton, The Swan at Bampton is owned and run by Paul and Donna for what is now their 10th anniversary year, it has been rewarded with many accolades including Top 50 Gastro Pubs and 2 AA Rosettes. The website informs you that ‘The Swan, being the oldest pub in Bampton, was originally lodgings to accommodate the masons and other craftsmen who were hired to enlarge the church in 1450. St Michaels church can be seen from the terrace just behind the pub.’

It still holds a sense of history with its beams and stoney walls, but has had a beautifully tasteful and modern refurbishment, whilst still keeping warmth and charm.

Having engaged with Paul on social media for some time due to my drooling over his food images, I finally found the perfect excuse to visit – Mothers Day. I didn’t want anything fancy, just a blimmin’ good roast and with his ethos of local meat, and comforting yet modern food, I had no doubt it would be good.

After enjoying a stroll in the sunshine along the Tiverton Canal, we arrived at 4:30 so as to enjoy Linner or Lupper (somehow not the same ring to it as brunch…I’ll fetch my coat!) We settled down at a table near the bar. There was evidence it had been very busy but nonetheless we were welcomed with smiles and served with ease, even Paul gets involved in ensuring his customers are happy.  With no official children’s menu, the younger ones are encouraged to choose from the mains and they are happy to serve a smaller portion ensuring the children eat just as well as their parents and none of this chicken nugget malarkey. (Don’t get me wrong, they have their place..but when you eat out, eat fresh).

So both my hubby and I settled quickly on roast beef and my son wanted the roast pork. There were plenty of main menu items nearly seducing us but I hadn’t had a pub roast in forever, and for once this ensured I didn’t dawdle over my choice.

The pub has its bar placed well in the middle of the ground floor with around 10 tables to the front left and right, fireplaces on either side for those colder days, and a small more cosy dining area set back upstairs with 4 or 5 tables.

Locals surrounded the bar area enjoying a catch up, with roast potatoes on deck for a thirst inducing snack. The bar includes the usual suspects with regards to drinks along with some great local beers and ales. We enjoyed a lager brewed using the champange method, it was refreshing and slightly fizzy, a clean and refreshing partner for the impending meat feast.

What arrived was fantastic; beautiful meat, on a bed of crispy roast potatoes, yorkshire pudding and a sticky and sweet oven roasted red onion. My son’s child portion arrived looking very similar and he was delighted to see a bit of fat (how he stays skinny, I’ll never know!). What followed was even more pleasing; not just a bountiful offering of vegetables but a jug of meaty gravy and a jug of cheese sauce!  It was all just gorgeous, and these jugs were an extra I wouldn’t expect to receive but it just shows how Paul and The Swan know what their customers want. The veg consisted of leeks, heritage carrots, broccoli, cauliflower and a wonderful pot of sweet potato mash. All this for £11.95, this was a roast with the most and for a greedy gravy guzzler like me, it was nice not to have to ask for more!

My son completely cleared his plate which was a sure sign of enjoyment as he has a tendency to get distracted, it goes cool, and he loves some aside…but no dithering here. At £6.50 for a child portion, it includes a bowl of ice cream to satisfy the mini-me’s sweet tooth requirements.

For us bigger kids, the normally savoury husband found one of his favourite puds was on the menu, and went for it – treacle tart with vanilla ice cream. I struggled to choose from the great options but the mini egg ice cream that accompanied the chocolate brownie somehow swung it for me…boy it was good. Gooey, cakey, crispy, warm, chocolatey,  bitter chocolate balanced with sweet with honeycomb bits for extra texture….delicious indeed. Hubby was super happy and impressed with his choice – a crisp pastry bottom, with a gooey layer then tasty treacle top, best he has had in a long time.

Well it was time to go, and be drawn out into the evening with the church bells a ringing amid the clear skies.

Want great pub food, that surpasses your expectations but doesn’t break the bank, best flap your wings and swan over to Bampton. If you’re too full to leave, there are some tastefully appointed rooms above to sleep it off.

The Swan, Station Road, Bampton, Devon EX16 9NG. Telephone: 01398 332248.

Email: info@theswan.co

Web: www.theswan.co

Instagram: theswanbampton

Twitter: @theswanbampton

Facebook: @theswanbampton

*I’d like to add that there is good access and enough room for those with accessibility needs as well as parents with pushchairs.

Opening Times – Food

Tuesday to Saturday Midday – 2.00 pm 6.00 pm – 9.30 pm

Sunday Midday – 2.30 pm 6.30 pm – 8.45 pm

Opening Times – The Bar

Monday – 5.00 pm – 11.00 pm Tuesday to Thursday Open all day until 11.00 pm

Friday & Saturday Midday – Midnight Sunday – Midday – 10.30 pm

        The Sawn at Bampton - by Lauren Heath You know those days, between the seasons, where there's just enough warmth yet still a chill in the air?