#what would normally be a snide remark and then intense eye contact between me and the pharmacy manager was a whole SCENE

[variantoutcast]

I'm just so embarrassed by my 2 bosses picking up on the fact that my body is shutting down and my brain is on fire because I'm 2 seconds away from crashing out at any given moment at work but continue to trudge forwards anyways

[hereliesanotherfic]

Three’s a Crowd || Erwin x Reader x Levi || Modern AU

Chapter 2 - Comfort in Comedy

You parked your good ol’ reliable highlander in your new, shared driveway for the 6th time this week and relaxed back into the cloth seats. It was hard to believe another week has come to an end, especially with how crazy it’s gotten for you. This previous Sunday, you had agreed to be Erwin and Levi’s new housemate, taking the third bedroom in their beautiful home. You felt a bit pitiful when you didn’t have many belongings to move in, but Levi commented it made it easier overall. Erwin took your clothes; Levi grabbed the couple boxes you had, and you were in your room in less than an hour. The rest of your night simply consisted of putting your belongings in the closet or drawers.

During the weeknights (since everybody went to work during the day), was the time you spent getting to know them better. Both work at a private detective company called the Survey Corps and have been partners for many years. Erwin is the commander of the sector and Levi is the captain. You knew almost nothing about this stuff, ignoring the fact you were new to their city. Levi explained how most of their days consist of paperwork at a desk in their ‘shitty office’ but the PD (Police Department) would give them a case here and there where they have to go to the scene or hunt somebody down. They almost constantly have a case or multiple going and you understood now why their house is so nice and why they’re so built.

Your coffee shop work has grown steady too. Each day the drinks were easier to make, you flowed more smoothly between customer service and food preparation and you met the remaining coworkers. Historia was the heir to the coffee shop, and she seemed like the perfect fit to run it and Connie was a master at fast-paced drink mixing. He even went through some efforts to create little foam bear faces in their drinks. (He said he’d teach you later, you’re holding him to that!) Him and Eren oversaw baking the pastries too, which one day when you’re comfortable, Armin said they could consider training you on.

Out of nowhere, your driver’s door flung open like a jack-in-the-box, triggering you to jump a bit out of your seat and back up onto the center console. Levi stood in the open-door space with his usual half-lidded stare, in which you proceeded to slide off the console as he spoke to you.

“What are you doing passing out in your car again? You have a room,” he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. He was dressed in a simple black suit, white button up, no tie. Even on Friday’s these guys dressed for success. His hair seemed a tad messy compared to how he left the house this morning. But you noticed even during dinner, socializing time, and whatnot, he would run his fingers through his bangs a lot.

“I-I wasn’t passing out!” You protested, sitting up a bit straighter in your seat. Levi, very obviously, didn’t believe you, waiting for a better answer. “I was just thinking about how the week went and work, that’s all…” your cheeks held a brief tint of pink, being caught dozing off was a bit embarrassing. Especially by someone strict and disciplined like Levi.

“Huh…so I guess you can wake up an hour earlier when you make coffee for us tomorrow.” Your cheeks puffed in pout at his snide remark. Smartass… “C’mon, if Erwin’s not home yet then we start making dinner tonight,” Levi stated while stepping aside to allow you room to exit the Highlander. He led you both in, unlocking the door and you both took your shoes off to leave them at the mat.  

You had changed out of your coffee smelling work clothes into some comfortable dark green joggers. By the time you had walked back to the kitchen, Levi had already started preparing. He had changed into a light grey, v-neck sweatshirt, and black sweatpants. On top of that he wore the pure-white kitchen apron that normally hung in the pantry. It was tied securely around his waist, tucking in the sweatshirt a bit and giving slightly more definition to his shoulder blades. Your eyes trailed it, following along his broad shoulders and the bit of skin exposed on the back of his neck. Just as you were admiring his sharp jawline again, he turned his head looking over at you. You immediately perked up in your stand and bee-lined over to him to help cook. He didn’t seem phased at your staring if he truly had caught you.

“Make sure to chop it finely,” Levi stated while chopped up the chicken breasts into clean strips, proceeding to place them in the sizzling frying pan of butter and olive oil. It was incredible how well these guys can cook, and the taste was remarkable!  Your next job after the parsley was mincing the garlic, Levi took care of cooking the food, which you didn’t mind. He started to mix all the ingredients together, one by one, and the smell of the food made you anxious for dinner.

“It smells amazing…” you hummed, looking over his arm to see the little bubbles of oil popping from under the chicken. Levi let out a satisfied ‘hmp’.

“Just don’t drool in our food. We’ll be eating shortly, brat,” he said, using his free hand to push you back down flat on your feet. You didn’t even realize you were on your tipy toes to stare at the dish. You looked up at his steel grey eyes that looked so tired.

“Why do you keep calling me brat?” you inquired.

“’Cause you are one still.”

“You’re only a couple years older than me,” you huffed. Levi turned his head to look at you, your (e/c) orbs locking with his steel ones.

“Maybe once you cook a full meal that doesn’t taste like the inside of a coffin, you’ll be less of a brat,” he stated, plain as day. His rude comment of your cooking was only dulled by you practically getting lost in his eyes. You broke eye contact and look away from him towards the open living room.

“I’ll get there, I just cook simpler meals,” you muttered. Levi watched you for a moment before a brief ‘ha’ escaped his lips and he looked back to flip the chicken strips. “Where did you learn how to cook so well?” You challenged.

“A friend of mine,” he said softly, his voice a bit quiet. You stared at him intensely and he felt it, glancing back at you before back to his cooking. You weren’t going to let up so easily. “When we first started living together, he did all the cooking, much better than I. I picked up his tricks and tips.”

“What’s his name? Maybe he could be my teacher too!”

“Farlan, and don’t get your hopes up. He doesn’t live in this town, so he’s not around often.”

“Then you teach me, Captain Levi,” you grinned largely, leaning your elbows on the counter and hands holding up your head. Levi stared down at you for a moment, your smile was incredibly pure and beautiful. He reached a hand up and ruffled your hair briefly, muttering another ‘brat’, before reaching above you and grabbing a large serving plate. You smiled as you moved towards another cabinet to get the dinner plates. You knew you got Levi to teach you how to cook!

As you both were plating the hot meal, Erwin stepped in the door and his nostrils immediately caught whiff of the food. You popped your head around the corner to greet him.

“Erwin, just in time! Levi and I just finished making dinner, hurry to get changed before it gets cold!” You smiled, earning a smile from the blonde man himself.

“Of course, (y/n), I’ll join you both in a moment,” he chuckled and headed to change in his room. You set down three plates and all utensils, Levi scolding you for placing them in the wrong positions and having you correct your mistake. Erwin stepped to the dinning table’s head seat wearing a comfortable pair of dark wash jeans and pastel yellow t-shirt. You eyed how the hem of the t-shirt line ended at the mid-section of his arm muscles, giving a nice view when he naturally flexed, the t-shirt barely giving definition to his chest muscles too. You glanced back down at your dinner plate of pale chicken. Either they bought shirts that were a size too small, or their bulging muscles were too much for their clothes. (You didn’t entirely mind though.) The three of you proceeded to enjoy a well-made dinner, you while ignoring your curious thoughts.

“Erwinnnn!! Leviiiii!!!!” Came a shrilling voice from behind the front door, sending a wave of chills down your spine. It was unexpected right after finishing your meal, normally the nights were quiet chatter. Immediately, Levi groaned, elbow on the table and hand holding onto his forehead. The black tea in his cup was almost completely gone. Erwin smiled pathetically at the raven before standing up and heading to the door. Erwin’s plate was completely cleaned, his cup of black tea standing empty. The door opened to a hyper-active brunette with glasses, immediately running inside the door to the dining table, Erwin not too far in pursuit of her.

“Did you guys hear?!” She exclaimed, hands practically slamming on the table. “Deadly Devour almost had another kill!!” Your eyes looked at her with worry, not necessarily about the horrifying words she said, but the fact it looked like their cheeks were red from blushing and their happy exclaim about it. “The only reason the victim survived is thanks to a patrol cop on duty who called backup! He’s making his moves!!” The brunette panted, licking her dry lips from excitement. You face paled a bit, was this person okay???

“Hange, please settle down, you’ll worry (y/n),” Erwin pardoned, motioning to you and her eyes followed, softening a bit. Levi sighed.

“What’s the status of the victims?” he calmly moved the conversation along, wanting as much information as the crazy detective could give him.

“The woman and the first officer are in the hospital in critical condition, they’re doing everything they can, so we just have to wait.” She then stepped around your chair to the free one on your side, pulling it out and taking a seat besides you. She outstretched her hand a bit with a gentler smile gracing her face. This was a pretty side of her from the five minutes you’ve seen.

“My name’s Hange Zoe! I live a house over and I work as a detective with Erwin and Levi! I’m specifically in charge of experiments and research!” You took her hand to shake, a small smile lifting on your lips. Her hand was larger than your own and had a strong shake to it too. “You must be (y/n), the new roommate they were telling me about!” You nodded, a faded blush on the top of your skin. You never thought they would talk about you at work, you were just a roommate. “If ya ever need anything these guys can’t do, give me a call!” Hange seemed pretty sweet when she wasn’t yelling.

“Thanks Hange,” you said. Hange then turned back towards the table, taking a piece of the lemon chicken strip on a plate for herself. It impressed you how quickly she made herself at home.

“Well, unfortunately we can only investigate so much until we can get more information from the victims,” Erwin sighed as he sat back down, fingers interlocked with each other. “But if both victim and officer are in critical condition, it can go either way.”

“And the damn doctors won’t let us in to ask anything until they’re dead or surviving,” Levi grumbled, finishing his chilled tea. Hange nodded vigorously.

“All we can do for now, is investigate the scene of the crime. It’s been crossed off for now, but we only have tomorrow to scout the area,” she said calmly, taking a bite of the food after their words. You sat at this table completely miffed by what was being spoken about. You were they were all detectives for the private company, Scouts, but this sounded serious and it made you sweat a little inside. Erwin must’ve picked up on your nervousness.

“Don’t worry about it (y/n)” he assured, resting a hand on your shoulder giving a light rub. “He doesn’t attack just anyone, you’re new to town so you’re safe. And no matter what you have the three of us here too.” His words were so comforting, you nodded in appreciation. “Why don’t you go get some rest, the three of us have more to discuss and you don’t need to hear more.” There was a part of you that wanted to stay, as scared as you were, you wanted to hear it. But Erwin didn’t give you the option. His words, his body language, it all told you to leave the room. You stood from the table, reached to collect the empty dishes before Levi lightly swatted your hand away. Your eyes locked with his for a moment, the exact same language was silently being stated like it did from Erwin. You let your head fall slightly and made your way to your room. None of them spoke until they heard the click of your door.

“You boys could be a little nicer, ya know,” Hange said while chewing on some bites of chicken. Levi grimaced at her action, demanding she speak only after she swallows.

“She doesn’t need to concern herself with this information, it’s a bit much for a new girl in town to hear.” Erwin said softly.

“We’re getting too close to Deadly Devour anyways. If any of us become a target, that increases her chances of becoming one too,” Levi added. Both men agreed before you moved in that this was a case too dangerous to let you get close too. Hange agreed, but whined that they didn’t have to be so cold to such a hot young lady like yourself.

You laid on your bed in your room. You had taken a nice hot shower and dressed yourself in your comfortable pajamas and bathrobe. The light in your room was naturally dimming as the sunset set farther down the globe. It felt a little hard to be calm. Hange just barged in with this ‘Deadly Devour’ guy making moves, trying to kill people. How was he going about it? What was his next target or where? Were Erwin and Levi in real danger too? What about Hange? Erwin consoled that you wouldn’t be a target for such an event, but it’s still scary to think about. You rolled around on your sheets, flipping side to side before filling curling up in a ball, squeezing your blanket into your face. This town was wonderful so far…you don’t want anything to ruin this one. You weren’t sure when your brain finally took a pause and allowed you to pass out.

_____________________________________________________________

***I am a visual aid person so writing stories I either make a map or borrow one. This is to help any readers like me who do better with visual aids! :)

For reference, their house similar to this Only diff is all 3 bedroom sizes, bathrooms and closes are the same size on the left of the house and that extra space where the master bathroom is, is a larger study room. ***I do not own pic/design, simply using it as a layout reference. Credit goes to proper owners.

[sara-scribbles]

My Partner (Part 5)

RK900/Detective!Reader Notes: Takes place a year after the end of DBH (best ending possible) Warnings: Mild swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

I’ve been busy with my job, so I haven’t had time to work on this. I plan to finish this, but updates will be slow. --------- A few months passed uneventfully. Well mostly uneventfully. Collin’s strange behavior on the day after you got sucker punched in the face continued. At first you thought it was a one time thing. However you noticed changes in his behavior occurring more frequently.

It was little things at first. He would hold open doors for you and allow you to enter first. He would sometimes pay you compliments like “good work” or “you did well today” at least once a day. Collin would sometimes bring you a new cup of coffee if you happen to be running low. Little things like this would seem normal for most people. However it was not normal for Collin as far as you knew him.

Things got even stranger when he stopped making remarks about your lack of abilities. Rather than reprimand you with a snide comment, he would offer advice on how to improve.

Then there was the touching. Collin wasn’t the physical type, unless it had to do with taking down suspects, but he seemed to be in contact with you more often. It was simple brushes of the hand when passing papers, or a gentle touch on your shoulder for a brief moment that often made you stop what you were doing. These simple touches sent your stomach aflutter and mind spinning.

You did not know how to bring up Collin’s strange behaviors up to him. You were not even sure if you should bring it up. You had let everything slide as you were not completely sure how to take it all in. A part of you wanted to demand an explanation from the android.

Another part of you just wanted to indulge in the change while it lasted because it made you feel something you had not felt in a long time. --------- Winter had settled in Detroit, and you hated it. Some people loved winter because of the snow and the coming holiday. You hated the snow as it meant you had to trudge through it for work. You would have to shovel out your car that the plows blocked in. Then the snow would get all mucky and sludgy, which made it even worse than before. The holiday season was just another day to spend with a family you did not have. It was another holiday you would spend alone while reminded that you did not have anyone to celebrate it with.

Though you told yourself you were use to being alone, you always felt a twinge of jealousy whenever you would hear about people’s plans. You smiled and laughed with others when they told you their family stories, but inside you wanted to be somewhere else. No one knew though, not even Hank. You did not want people to pity you nor did you want to drag others into your problems.

Hank spent the holidays alone, usually at a bar, after Cole’s death. However last year Hank had Connor to spend the holiday seasons with.

You knew Hank would gladly let you join him and Connor, but you did not want to intrude. You also did not want to explain to Hank why you had not told him sooner. You were not ready to open that wound just yet.

Maybe another time. --------- You immediately turned the radio off when you got into the car; the holiday tune that had assaulted your ears made you inwardly cringe. Ignoring Collin’s look, you settled into your seat. He started driving off to next destination for the case.

The silence that filled the ride stretched on for a while before you sighed. “What, Collin?”

Clearing his throat, the android kept his gaze forward. “You seemed to dislike the holiday music that was on. I thought all humans liked holiday music.”

“Not all humans do. I’m one of them,” you replied quickly.

He looked at you from the corner of his vision. “Is there a particular reason, Detective?”

“Why does there have to be a reason? I just don’t like them.” You huffed in annoyance.

“Your defensive tone says otherwise,” he pointed out.

You threw him a glare. “Just...leave it be, Collin.”

He was silent before answering. “If that’s what you want, Detective.”

There was another bout of silence between you two. The traffic was heavy so the car was currently at a stand still on the road. You stared out the window at the street shops. Each one was decorated for the holiday.

They were like a beacon light for those who needed to get shopping done. It had started snowing last week, so a good pile was already building up despite snow plows trying to take care of it.

You tore your eyes away from the window. “So Collin...”

“Yes?”

You chewed on your lower lip as you tried to find a good way to ask your question. “Is everything okay with you?”

“I’m in perfect working order, Detective,” he replied smoothly.

You turned to fully study him. “Well...you’ve been acting strange.” Your brows knitted together and you pursed your lips. “Maybe strange isn’t the right word. It’s more like you’ve been acting different. You’ve been more considerate of me and less...mean.”

Collin was silent as you watched him intently. You were looking for any signs of change in his face, though you knew you wouldn’t catch anything. His LED blinked a rapid yellow.

“I do not know what you mean, Detective,” he finally said. “Perhaps you are just imagining things. My behavior towards you has stayed the same.”

“Bull. Shit.” You glared at the side of his face.

He did not meet your gaze as he parked the car. You had not noticed that you had arrived at your destination. Collin shut the engine off and was about to get out, when you grabbed his upper arm to stop him.

“Detective, we do not have time fo-”

“We have plenty of time,” you cut in. Your grip tightened on his arm, though you both knew Collin could easily break your hold.

He flashed you a look of annoyance before he settled back in the seat. “Fine, Detective. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

You released your hold on his arm. “For starters, your change in behavior has been throwing me for a loop. You wanna explain that?”

“I would have thought you would like the change in attitude. I’m no longer a “jerk” as you said before.” A small smirk formed on his face at the groan that escaped your lips.

You rolled your eyes. “I do appreciate the lack of snide comments on my inability to do things. I guess I just wanted to know why the sudden change?”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. His LED continued to blink yellow. He seemed to be weighing something as he looked at you. You had to look away from his intense stare as it felt like he could see into your very soul.

He sighed. “You,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “Excuse me?” You were confused.

“You asked why the sudden change. It’s because of you.” His posture sagged as if he suddenly had nothing to hold him up. Collin was usually sat and stood upright, but seeing him slouch back in the seat made your heart twinge. It was as if he had given up.

“I-I don’t understand, Collin,” you murmured. You did not know how to respond to his statement.

“You’re human and have many flaws. You can be too loud and brash at times. You always have to make comments on my behavior. You’re thin skinned when it comes to my criticism. Though you think you’re strong, you’re actually fragile. I found you a nuisance and a hindrance to the case.” He paused.

You were wondering where he was going with everything. So far he had just insulted you in almost everything. Collin smirked in amusement at the dark look you were giving him.

He continued. “You’re also kind to fault. You willingly accept people regardless of who they are or what they are. You have a quick wit and a smart mouth. You’re intelligent but humble about your knowledge. You don’t think you’re better than others; you even see yourself as less than some. I’ve found you to be...invaluable.”

You blinked owlishly at him as he smiled at you. It was a soft smile. A smile filled with wonder and care. Your heart pounded in your chest and your cheeks burned at the compliment. The sincerity in his voice sent a warm feeling down your spine.

You looked away. “Well...that was...was...enlightening.”

A low chuckle escaped his mouth. Your head whipped back to him and you stared. It was the first time you had heard a laugh like that. Usually his laughs were cold and held no real emotion. This small laugh was filled with amusement and warmth.

“You...laughed…” You stared in surprise. His laugh was nice.

He shook his head. “Only you would be embarrassed by the truth. You’re a wonder, [First name].”

Collin reached out and brushed a stray hair out of your face. You sat there frozen as he cupped the side of your face. His thumb brushed against your your cheek in a slow motion as he stared at you intensely. His gaze traveled over your face and down until they stopped at your lips. With half lidded eyes he stared at your lips

You swallowed nervously and unconsciously licked your lips. They felt dry. Collin’s eyes followed the sweep of your tongue and seemed to darken. He leaned in closer. You were holding your breath in anticipation. Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest.

His mouth was a few inches away from your own when he stopped. Then he pulled back and dropped his hand from your face. Sitting back, he straightened his shoulders and adjusted his jacket.

“We should get going, Detective.” He got out of the car without waiting for a response.

You let out the breath you were holding in a loud gasp. Your face felt like it was on fire, and your heart was beating wildly. You looked out the driver side window at Collin’s retreating figure. He did not wait as he went into the building.

Both hands came up to cover your face. You weren’t completely sure what had just occurred. A part of you just wanted to pretend it never happened. Another part, a stronger one, wanted to march over to Collin and finish what he started. A different part of you could not believe that Collin had almost kissed you, and you wanted him to do it.

You took a few calming breaths, willing yourself to get yourself together. You needed to focus on the job at hand. Later you could think about what had almost happened.

As you got out of the car, you continued to mutter under your breath, “I’m not attracted to him. I’m not attracted to him.” --------- Tag:  @john-fuck-yes-seed @the-mosquito-you-find-at-2am @aya-fay @94hgh

[sweetlysilent]

That One Bet

Requested By: Anonymous

hi!! i jus honestly love ur imagines ❤️ but can u write something where peter & flash made bets and peter has been beating him at all of them until @ liz's party and peter sucks ass at beer pong until the reader comes in and helps him , u can end it however thank youuuu

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Description: The entire day Flash and Peter had been making bets, and from what you and Ned could conclude was that Peter was in the lead, until you arrived at Liz's party and saw Peter getting his ass whipped at beer pong, today, you would be the superhero.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, kinda fluffy I dunno

Word Count: 2,452

A/N: THIS WAS SO CUTE TO WRITE I'M LIVING, but it was super fun to create, it's super cheesy too aw. enjoy :)

"You do realize Flash literally almost ran you over right?" You appeared next to Peter as he glared at Flash who shouted 'Penis Parker!' as he drove away laughing.

"Yes, Y/N, I am aware I nearly died." Peter replied sarcastically with a dramatic eye roll, earning a hard shove from you into Peter's shoulder.

"Aye!" Peter shouted, holding his shoulder, seeing your intense glare at him, his eyes softened a bit, pulling you in for a hug.

"I'm sorry bug," He murmured into your hair as you hugged him back, relaxing at his touch, "I know you were just caring about my safety." He sighed, rubbing your back gently before you two broke apart.

"Yes. Therefore, you should be grateful." You replied back sarcastically, making Peter shake his head at you with a smile.

"Although, sometimes I wish you could go all Spidey on him and web his car up." You whispered, laughing, making Peter laugh along with you as you both entered the school.

The second school started you'd think world war three was happening, anytime you saw either Flash or Peter they were at a constant stage of war.

"Peter what are you doing?" You asked him when you ran into him in the hallway, he was out of breath, sweat dripping down his forehead as he looked around the hallway.

"Flash bet me that I couldn't run the entire school in under a minute, he was wrong, aka, I won." He smiled triumphantly, taking a bow, as you stood there unamused.

You weren't going to lie, you didn't understand this whole betting thing going on, all you knew was that it was starting to push your buttons.

But being the friend you were, you let it go, since Peter was having the time of his life beating his arch nemeses.

Therefore, you continued about your day, going to class, watching as Flash made a bet with Peter that he couldn't build a stink bomb and get the entire school to evacuate.

He did.

And you were beyond annoyed.

"Did you really have to bet that?" You sighed, looking at your best friend who was grinning at Flash who looked pissed as hell.

Flash hadn't one a bet yet, and you knew it was driving him insane, he wanted to crush Peter with everything he had.

"Yes Y/N, I wasn't going to loose." Peter laughed, but stopped once seeing your face, knowing you were far from happy.

You let out an annoyed huff, turning on your heel as they started allowing students back in the building.

Maybe you should stay away from him the rest of the day.

And that's exactly what you did.

And Peter noticed, big time.

Every time he won a bet, he'd go and look for you so he could brag about how he beat Flash again, but found that you were nowhere to be seen, peaking his curiosity.

This went on for the rest of the day, even at lunch.

"Hey Ned, how did the math test go? Was it hard? Or was it easy?" You rambled on, Ned watching you with an amused smile, he was also your best friend.

He knew how important studies were to you, you wanted to get into a high college where you could actually put your knowledge to something life changing.

"Honestly, you'll do great, it wasn't that bad, some problems were ehh, but besides that you should be fine." Ned replied, taking a bite of his sandwich as you visibly relaxed.

"Alright good, because I-" You were cut off as Flash and Peter came walking over, in a heated argument, making you roll your eyes.

"There is no way you have won all of these bets and I've won nothing!" Flash shouted, making Peter smirk in glory, infuriating Flash even more.

"Not my fault you can't keep up." Peter replied, making Flash's blood boil even more, his eyes narrowing at Peter.

"Liz is having a party tonight, we will continue this there." Flash pointed at Peter who raised his eyebrows.

"Be there, or else." Flash threatened, making Peter bite his lip and nod, laughing as Flash stormed off.

"Can you believe him?" Peter motioned towards Flash, before glancing between you and Ned.

"-Uh, guys, what's up?" Peter hesitantly questioned, seeing as both you and Ned had blank looks on your faces.

"Peter, we know that you're in the lead and all, and that you're having a blast with all these bets, but it's just not our thing." Ned shrugged slightly, as you continued to pick at your food.

"Oh. I didn't know." Peter replied quietly, looking at Ned, giving him a silent apology, before looking at you, who refused to look away from your food.

Peter had noticed you'd been distant the entire day, and now it all made sense, each time he came up to you excitedly to brag about winning a bet, you could never relate and the more he did it the smaller it made you feel.

Lunch soon ended, and you were quick to grab your belongings and get out as fast as you could, avoiding Peter the best you could.

You knew it was wrong, but you just couldn't take it anymore, sure you were proud of him standing up to Flash and winning all the bets, but what was it to you?

You didn't have any other friends besides Peter, Ned, Michelle and occasionally Liz when she felt like hanging out with you.

Therefore, you could never relate to what pure victory and happiness was, the only time you felt slight happiness was when you got a good grade on a paper or test, proving your dreams could potentially be something in the future.

You went on the rest of the day, avoiding Peter if you saw him in class or the hallway, he knew what you were doing too, and he knew it was his fault he had pushed you away without meaning to.

Ned told him you'd cool off soon, but Peter wasn't so sure, he'd never seen you this upset before.

"Ned, I think I really hit something with her, she doesn't normally ignore me this long with I mess up." Peter spoke nervously, walking to their last class, one that you were also in.

"Okay, so lets say you did, what are you going to do to fix it?" Ned questioned, making Peter stop and think for a moment.

"I can try to talk to her?" He spoke aloud, more as a question than a statement, making Ned shake his head and walk into class.

You sat at your normal seat, glancing up when you saw them walk in, your eyes locking with Peter's before you broke and looked down at your paper.

You hated doing this, but for the moment it was for the best, at least that was what you were telling yourself.

The rest of the day went on, and the last bell finally rang, and you were free, you had gotten invited to Liz's party by Liz herself, shocking you a bit, but you agreed.

You had arrived a bit early to help set up, something you enjoyed since you rarely spent time with Liz anymore.

"Okay, Y/N, what's going on between you and Peter?" She broke the silence, pulling out red cups, as you stood there in shock.

"W-What do you mean?" You stammered, making her smile and laugh at your reaction.

"I mean it's clear you both have a thing for each other, but you both somehow don't seem to see it." She poured out some chips into a bowl as you brought out more cups, placing them on the counter.

"Peter and I are just friends." You tried to convince her, but the more you thought about it, were you trying to convince yourself too?

Liz saw your hesitation, making her smirk at you, causing you to blush slightly, maybe she was right?

Her house was finally all set up, and people soon poured in, music becoming louder, people dancing and laughing.

And then they walked in.

Ned had a hat on, which did look pretty good if you did say so yourself, and then there was Peter who was looking around anxiously.

You both soon made eye contact, neither one of you breaking the stare until Flash came over, causing Peter to look away.

You stood there stunned for a moment, looking at Ned wide-eyed as if saying what the hell just happened?

He gave a shrug in return, making you run your fingers through your hair frustrated, you truly hated having emotions sometimes.

You decided to go get a snack, and process the 'moment' you just had with Peter, watching your surroundings and cringing at how drunk some of your classmates were getting.

Who knew so many people thought getting wasted was fun, you never really understood drinking, you knew it fogged your brain up for some time and you could let loose and have fun, but there were so many more consequences that followed.

Exactly why you never once drank in your life, you couldn't afford to risk everything you worked so hard for to go straight into the toilet, literally.

You were deep in thought until you heard chanting coming from the other room, peaking your interest you wandered over, seeing Flash and Peter playing beer pong.

Must be another one of their bets you thought to yourself, but you then noticed Peter was loosing, and he was freaking out.

You stood there unsure of what to do, you knew you had been avoiding him all day because of this very reason, but there was no way in hell you'd let him loose to Flash.

You squeezed through the crowd of people, walking up next to Peter, startling him, causing Flash to laugh.

"Shut it would ya?" You snapped at Flash, causing everyone to 'ooh' and make snide remarks, as Flash simply smiled.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Peter questioned, clearly surprised you were talking to him again.

"I'm being the hero this time." You smiled slightly, creating a small smile to form on his lips.

"I'm loosing pretty bad Y/N, there isn't really anything that can help." Peter sighed in defeat, but you just smiled, a twinkle in your eye.

"Peter, if you win, we can go on a date." You whispered into his ear, making his eyes widen and his knees go weak for a split second.

"A-Are you s-serious?" He gulped nervously, making you giggle slightly and nod in response.

"But you have to win, or else Flash gets to take me on that date." You teased, watching as his jaw tensed at the thought.

You then stood to the side, watching as the game continued, and out of nowhere, Peter started gaining on Flash, and soon enough Peter was in the lead, and last thing you knew Peter had won.

Flash stood there in furry, claiming that he had cheated, but everyone knew he was just being a sore loser.

You clapped your hands slowly, watching as Peter's eyes lit up at the sight of you.

"Congratulations, you did it." You smiled, watching as Peter played it off like it was nothing.

"I always knew you could." You mumbled, watching his cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your comment.

"I'm really sorry about today, I didn't mean to make you feel like you weren't good enough or not important, I-I was just trying to impress you." Peter admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Really?" You smiled, biting your lip as you watched Peter smile and nod back at you.

"I've liked you for so long Y/N, and it feels so good finally telling you that." Peter sighed, grabbing your hands before pulling you into a hug.

"I like you too Peter." You smiled, running your hands up and down his back gently.

You both stood there for a few moments, just taking in the new information, and each other.

"I'm so glad I did all those bets." Peter laughed, making you laugh along with him, he truly was the dorkiest person you knew.

You both eventually pulled away, goofy grins on both of your faces as if everyone else around you didn't matter.

"So, how about that date?"

[dragonandtiger]

Digimon 00 - Fragments - 31

The tension in the Ichijouji house was thick, lingering like a dark storm that had long since worn out its welcome. None felt the brunt of the pressure more than Osamu as he sat in the room he shared with his little brother. Even as he tried to type away at the computer, the tension felt suffocating, distracting him from what he was attempting to accomplish. Every so often, he glanced over to his brother, the source of the intense strain on his heart.

Ken sat in front of the balcony, his back to Osamu as he stared out into the city beyond. It would have seemed like innocent wistfulness, if the eldest child didn’t know it for what it really was - a purposeful snub. Ken wasn’t even bothering with the homework that sit on the floor scattered about him, all of it discarded as the Chosen of Kindness focused out the balcony window.

With a heavy sigh, Osamu saved his work and shut his computer down. He couldn’t accept the atmosphere between him and his little brother, especially after he spent so many days fearing the worst. He was too harsh on Ken, he knew that; even if it was for a good reason, his gentle and kind little brother was too soft, and such brutality after seeing horrors he could only speculate about in that world of monsters clearly took their toll.

For the days following Ken’s return, Osamu wavered between emotional peaks and valleys, but throughout it all he quietly wished that things would go back to the way they were before, when he could spend the scant moments of outside of work and study to play with his little brother.

Normally, after every fight between them, it was Ken who brokered the peace. For as angry and rigid as Osamu could get, somehow the kindness of his little brother was always enough to gently lower his guard.

That didn’t happen this time.

Osamu found himself utterly at a loss where to start and spent several minutes just staring at a blank computer screen. He had done the right thing; he wasn’t wrong, but he wanted them to stop fighting. He wanted his little brother back.

Eventually, Osamu cleared his throat, then again a little louder when he noticed that failed to catch any attention. “Ken?”

Ken was silent for a moment, long enough for it to seem like he wouldn’t answer. Just before Osamu was about to try again, the Chosen of Kindness spoke without turning to face his brother. “What do you want.”

“My brother back,” Osamu thought, but fortunately his mind, as always, moved quicker than his mouth. Instead, he chose something else to say, something that he knew needed to be perfect or this tension would never end. “I’m taking a break. Do you want to play that new game dad got for us?”

“You mean the game he got for you?” Ken asked, with no small amount of sharpness in his voice. “Dad doesn’t buy me things, he buys you things, and I get them when you’re bored of them and don’t want them anymore.”

Even on a good day, Osamu couldn’t argue that fact, and this most certainly was not a good day. After spending a moment swiveling in his chair, he tried a more tactful approach instead, as he opened a desk drawer. “If you want it, you can have it. I haven’t even taken the shrinkwrap off, so it’s still brand new.”

After a little bit of searching, Osamu found the game in question, one of the hottest new releases that he knew Ken had been dying to play since it was hyped in advertising months ago. He showed the pristine game box for his little brother’s inspection, extending his arm while hoping a game he knew they both wanted could substitute for an olive branch.

Ken paused before he finally turned about to face Osamu. He looked down at the game before he lifted his gaze to Osamu’s face. “What I want is for you to stop trying to keep me from my friends.”

Osamu flinched, but tried to mitigate his reaction. He suspected this would be the response, but he had been hoping Ken secretly wanted peace just as much as he did. With a sigh, he set the game down and leaned back in his chair. “If you’re talking about Akiyama… then I guess. Maybe.”

Just conceding that much was painful. He had been pointedly ignoring and avoiding Ryo at school despite the many attempts the other boy made to talk to him about the situation.

“I mean all of them,” Ken said, sharply. “Including Wormmon - especially Wormmon.”

There it was. Osamu had dreaded this, but also expected it. Ken just couldn’t give up on the idea of being a hero, of having some magical pet or familiar that could whisk him off for adventures in another world, no matter how dangerous it was. No matter what real agendas these monsters had for such an innocent and gentle boy to fight in their wars.

It took Osamu a while to respond, as bile built at the back of his throat and threatened to burst out to savagely rip into all the monsters that nearly killed his little brother, but he swallowed the acid even as it burned his insides. He knew yelling wouldn’t work this time, not after how spectacularly it had failed before.

“Ken,” Osamu finally managed, wincing at the way his brother’s name came out far harsher than he intended. He tried again, desperately trying to grasp some of Ken’s natural gentleness that had been absent for these many days. “Ken, I know that whatever happened over there in that other world probably made you feel special, like a hero, but you’re eight years old. You’re a kid. We’re kids. We’re not supposed to be fighting wars; we’re supposed to be going to school and playing!”

“You don’t know what happened in the other world,” Ken said, his eyes boring into Osamu’s. “So you have no business trying to tell me that nothing I did mattered.”

“I didn’t say that,” Osamu said quickly. “The fact that these monsters want you so badly means something, but I don’t think what matters to you matters to them.”

“Protecting our world matters to me,” Ken replied. “Which is what they also want.”

Osamu ran his hand across his face and took in a long hissing breath between his fingers. “Okay, Ken, I will concede that much.” He slowly set his hands down onto the armrests of his chair. “I don’t know what happened during the week you were gone - when you were in a coma - because you won’t tell me. But you want to know what I do know? I know no one told me about it. What I knew was that for every minute you were missing, you were spending a day in a world full of monsters that want to kill you, who kidnapped you and Akiyama against your will.”

Osamu made a vague gesture in the air. “For the sake of this conversation, I’ll accept the idea that there really are at least two factions of monsters in this world, and the side that didn’t try to kill you was the one that recruited you. I’ll even, for the sake of argument, accept that they didn’t intend to kill you.” He redirected his hand to point it at Ken. “That doesn’t change the fact that they decided that it didn’t matter if I spent the past week scared that you were dead. Even families of veterans at war get told when something bad happens to the people fighting!”

Ken felt a twinge, as among all of Osamu’s complaints, the last one was the only legitimate one. Still, he wasn’t about to let it go unanswered. “We were used to there being a time distortion. It should’ve only been minutes, not days. We’ve been doing this for so long that we just didn’t think of it.”

Osamu extended a second finger. “So why didn’t they, your monster friends, who were not in a coma contact me? Or bring me to see you? Or give a damn that there might be people back home who’d miss you if you died!”

“They don’t communicate with humans normally, especially people who aren’t Chosen Children,” Ken said with a shake of his head.

“Not even family members of their child soldiers?” Osamu snapped with more resentment than he intended.

Ken’s cheek twitched, but he tried to keep his temper somewhat in check. “They don’t want to make things more complicated for us than necessary, especially given that people might have trouble accepting them or their existence.” He narrowed his eyes as he gave Osamu a pointed look. “Like now.”

These monsters were good, Osamu noted with no small amount of resentment. They knew just what to say to sway Ken to their side; not unlike a cult’s recruitment. He needed to research how to break cult brainwashing to see how it could be undone, but for now, he needed to focus on bridging the gap between them.

Swallowing a snide remark, Osamu instead took a number of measured breaths as he adjusted his tactics slightly. “I don’t trust anyone involved with you getting hurt. Especially if they don’t tell me about it. You might trust these monsters, but I don’t. I can’t until they prove to me that they actually do care about you.”

Osamu held up a hand to cut off argument he knew was coming. “But. But… If it’s without any of those monsters, I’ll stop arguing with you about spending time with Akiyama again.”

Ken’s eyes narrowed as he clenched his jaw so tightly it made his teeth hurt. His anger was swelling up inside him again, burning hot as it melted what little self-control he had left. As always, Osamu made it about himself - what he wanted, what he felt, earning his trust, proving it to him. The boy genius, without fail, could never see past his own nose to see that not everything had to be about Osamu Ichijouji.

“Without me,” Osamu finally added, forcing the words out. He hated making such a concession, but he needed more information, and this was the only way he could get it. “I’ll let you see this monster, Wormmon, only if it’s in our world, and only if I go with you. I have a few questions for him anyway.”

“Why, so you can try and kill him again?” Ken asked, his voice like a hiss through his clenched teeth.

Osamu didn’t miss a beat. “Not unless he tries to hurt you or me.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ken growled. The vision of Osamu trying to throw Wormmon from the balcony was one that was burned forever into his mind.

Osamu dug his fingers into the armrests rather than into his face as he tried desperately to keep his temper in check. This wasn’t Ken he was talking to right now, he had to remind himself. This was weeks, perhaps months, of conditioning from a bunch of strangers with dubious agendas in a war zone full of monsters.

After one more deep breath to help clear his head, Osamu forced his body to unclench. “Alright. I’m not sure how I can get you to believe me there, so I won’t meet with this Wormmon, but until I do, I can’t trust him, so I can’t just let you see him either. I won’t let him take you to that world again. I won’t let you almost get killed again!”

Ken barely bit back a barb, and his tongue in the process. As something ugly formed in his throat, he heard the words of his friends - of Ryo, Higashi, and Bokomon encouraging him to try and make peace with his family. They were the only family he had, after all. Things might have seemed bad at the moment, but surely they were just doing it out of love and not malice - at least, that’s what kept repeating in his head. It was just ignorance.

Even a supposed genius could be ignorant.

Ken took a deep breath through his nose before he exhaled, closing his eyes. He tried to think of it as expelling all the wound up anger he felt, pushing it out of his body so that he could keep his cool in spite of his brother’s pigheadedness. He then turned his back to Osamu, returning his attention to the balcony. “Please leave me alone.”

Osamu let out a sigh of frustration at his failure. “Look, Ken, I know it must’ve been exciting in that other world, but can’t you see there’s something really messed up about a bunch of monsters with super powers asking a kid to fight for them?”

“I asked you nicely,” Ken said, forcing his voice to stay even. He didn’t trust himself to say much more, especially not after his last outburst. The fact that Osamu kept pushing wasn’t making it any easier. “Please leave me alone.”

Groaning, Osamu placed his hand on his head. “Ken…” He faltered, struggling to come up with something that would pierce through this uncharacteristic stubborn streak his little brother displayed, but nothing seemed to be working. “Okay. Fine. If you won’t talk to me about this, then at least just promise me that you’ll only see friends who’re human. Can you at least do that much for me?”

Ken didn’t respond. He couldn’t respond, as it was a promise that he would never make. It was agreeing to never see Wormmon or the rest of his friends, and it was just a promise he wasn’t willing to make.

Osamu sighed, slumped in his chair with his palm over his face. He was done. He had nothing left. All he had to offer was the game, which he blindly fumbled for before holding it out to his side, no longer looking at Ken. “Here. You can have this. Keep it. Throw it away. I don’t care.”

Ken glanced back at his brother. He didn’t want to take the game, but found himself doing it anyway. Silently, the Chosen of Kindness headed to the doorway and slipped out of their room in to the hallway. He stopped to close the door behind him, but paused as he heard Osamu speak one last time.

“Just…,” Osamu faltered for a moment. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again. You’re my only brother, you know.”

Ken hesitated before he closed the door. He took a few steps before leaned back against the wall. He hung his head, staring down at the game in his hand. Whatever enjoyment he might have gotten out of it was completely tainted, as the mere sight of it made his stomach churn.

“Then why….” Ken murmured, to himself. “Why do you keep treating me like this…?”

[obsidianarchives]

To All The Wizards: The Greenhouse

The next morning, Hermione awoke to sunlight streaming in through her half-closed hangings. It was a warm morning. Her blankets and pillows were coaxing her back into another slumber. She had such a pleasant dream the night before, of dimples and full lips. A contented sigh escaped her mouth. Perhaps she could sleep a little longer.

Clenching her eyes tightly she tried to will the dream back into her mind—shelves pressing into her back, the smell of bergamot enveloping her being, a low chuckle. With a start, she shot up in her bed. It hadn’t been a dream. She really had confessed her feelings to Dean Thomas and he had reciprocated. There hadn’t been only one kiss, but several.

Frantically, she ripped open her hangings, snatching up her watch to confirm the reality of the situation. It was 9:40 AM already, she had slept in quite late. Her eyes lingered on the small “18” on the face. It was, in fact, the day after the match. It had all been real.

She stared, wide-eyed, around her empty dormitory. Would he have waited this long for her to get ready for breakfast? Without the express purpose of putting on a show of being in a relationship, she wasn’t sure how a normal couple was supposed to behave.

In a flurry of nervous excitement she moved about the room getting ready. Mess and disorder followed her as she went. The scene was more chaotic than their dormitory had been when the girls had prepared for the Yule Ball fourth year. With a sense of helplessness she stood in the middle of her strewn clothes and accessories, realizing all of her cutest outfits had been wasted on fake dates and performances. Did Dean even like those outfits?

Finally, she settled on a rumpled yellow blouse that was actually quite cute after she had charmed the wrinkles out of it. For a moment she eyed herself in the mirror, her reflection hesitant.

This is ridiculous, she thought. He knows what you look like and decided he fancied you anyway. She rolled her eyes at her reflection before squaring her shoulders and bounding toward the door.

With a surge of confidence she propelled herself down the first flight of steps before indecision brought her to a halt once more. This wasn’t the same Dean she had been meeting before breakfast every other day since December. This Dean knew how she felt. They couldn’t just say “Hello!” or “Mornin’” and be on their way like they used to, could they?

She turned back towards the dormitory and bit her lip. Shaking her head, willing the anxiety away, she turned around again. She had almost convinced herself to retreat back to the dormitory and regroup when she spotted him. He caught her eye from the couches below and waved. With a nervous smile, she continued down the stairs.

He beamed at her as she walked towards him. “Did you wait long?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could. Like it’s any other day, she told herself.

Shaking his head, his eyes searched her. He gave a dry chuckle and said, “This is a bit weird isn’t it?”

A couple of third years entered from the portrait hole and walked past them, causing Hermione to take a step towards Dean then immediately step back in a panic. She laughed at herself. “A little I guess.”

“It’s hard to know how to act after having it in writing for so long,” he said with an air of effortless ease. He didn’t appear to be nervous at all. “Alright, we’ll just take it slow then.”

She nodded her assent, slightly unnerved that he knew her so well. Sheepishly, she took his hand, and he led her out of the portrait hole.

—

The Great Hall was teeming with residual excitement from the previous day’s match. To Hermione, the Quidditch Cup and party seemed like a lifetime away. The atmosphere of the day was just somehow sweeter. Everyone was jovial. The food looked impeccable—thick-cut smoked bacon, coils of fat sausages, platters of muffins with pats of butter dripping down the sides, and decanters filled with a colorful array of exotic juices. It was possibly the best breakfast she ever had.

Dean and Hermione sat next to each other, chatting comfortably like two old companions. A jolt of excitement would run through her when she remembered that this was no longer fake or when he reached over to wipe the crumbs of her muffin from her cheek.

Sighing contentedly, Hermione set down her now-empty goblet of pomegranate juice. It had been cold and sweet, a relief from the imagined heat radiating from the enchanted ceiling.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Dean asked as he reached over, grazing her cheek with his thumb.

Happiness and doubt churned inside of her—a pleasant chaos. It didn’t feel hard. Things felt like they were coming naturally, but she still felt uncomfortable not knowing what it was she was meant to do. “No I guess not,” she said, smiling shyly.

He snorted. “You guess? I could have sworn it was you who snogged me out of the blue again.” He leaned down towards her and with a smirk asked, “Should I be expecting more of that?”

Feeling flushed, she pushed him away. “No! I mean—erm yes. What I mean is yes but not the surprise part.” Glancing around the table, she saw that no one was paying any attention to their conversation, but she still felt aggressively exposed.

“I don’t mind. Surprise me all you want.” His eyes burned right through her with such an intensity she thought she might evaporate.

Nervously, she broke eye contact and reached for her goblet. Realizing it was empty, she lamely tipped it back anyway, looking for any excuse to cut through the tension. It was bad enough she didn’t know what she was doing, she didn’t need the whole Gryffindor table to see that as well.

He chuckled, not affronted, and looked up at the clear blue sky of the enchanted ceiling. “So, how long has it been for you?”

She watched him as she thought for a moment. He needed a haircut, the gradient of his fade was shaggier and disheveled. Still as the enchanted glow of the artificial sun above and the real sun beams streamed through the window and bounced off his features, he was incredibly handsome.

Her heart skipped a beat and she looked back down at her empty plate. When had she started fancying him? In her memory, there were two distinct periods, one where she didn’t have feelings for Dean and one where she did. She couldn’t say for certain the exact point where the two met.

“Hogsmeade,” she said finally. It was impossible to riddle out what precisely her heart felt at the time, but she did know that was the first time it had no longer felt fake.

Dean looked back down at her and smiled in triumph. “I win.” In response to her confused expression, he said, “Christmas.”

That was nearly two months before their Valentine’s Day Hogsmeade trip. There was no way. “Christmas!” she said with a gasp. She lowered her voice, noticing their neighbors glancing at her curiously, “You’ve liked me since Christmas?”

He looked out of the arched windows thoughtfully, as if double checking his calculations. “After I dropped you off at the station, the night you had dinner round my place, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It went on for days. I would just wonder how you were and what you were doing.” He shrugged. “When we got back from break, I realized you were still working out your own stuff with Ron so I did my best to leave it.”

“But what about Ginny? You kept meeting with her. I assumed...”

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” he said. “She was angry with me.”

“About what?” she asked, taken-aback.

He rubbed his jaw, now looking down at the table sheepishly. “She thought I was using you to get to her and she was angry about it. I didn’t tell you because then I would have had to admit I no longer had feelings for Ginny. Then you would have ended things, which in my defense you seemed pretty keen to do.”

All this time and he never told her. She stared at him aghast. If this was true, he had been in the same awkward position she had been, but longer. A wave of relief washed over her. It felt like somehow the scales were balanced. If he had liked her for that long, even if he wasn’t showing it, surely he was as nervous as she was.

“Are you mad?” he asked.

“Mad? No. Why would I be mad?”

“Mad because I didn’t tell you sooner,” he said, looking uncertain for the first time all morning.

She laughed, feeling much more relaxed now, and clutched his hand on the table. “Let’s just call it even.”

“Deal,” he said, dipping down and lightly kissing her on the forehead.

A giggle threatened to bubble forth, but before it could she spotted Harry entering the Hall with Ginny, hand-in-hand. They made eye-contact, and he looked significantly between her and Dean, who was now spooning more jam onto his toast, and winked at her. Hiding her blush, she pulled a face at him. He grinned at her knowingly in response, spotting her blush even from across the hall. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Dean, but not before seeing Harry’s enthusiastic thumbs up.

“What was that about?” Dean asked, taking a bite of his fresh piece of toast.

“Harry just...it’s nothing. He’s just stupid,” she said dismissively as she reached over to pluck a few red grapes from a nearby platter.

Finishing his last piece of toast in a few swift bites he looked down the table to where Harry and Ginny were now seated amongst her friends.

“So you’re sure you’re not bothered about Ginny and Harry?” she asked tentatively.

Sighing with exasperation, he brushed the crumbs off the table and pushed his now empty plate away. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Hermione pursed her lips and stared down the table at the red-headed girl. “I just don’t understand then. Why has she acted so strangely? All year she’s made snide remarks and even snapped at me when Harry got detention, but she was defending me to you? It doesn’t make sense.”

There clearly had to be a misunderstanding between Ginny and herself that she had perpetuated by never confronting Ginny in the first place. For all she knew, it was Ginny who thought she was angry. Although she had never thought of Ginny as a particularly close friend, this still made her feel guilty. They shared a room over the summer for Merlin’s sake. She was the older and more responsible one of the two. If it truly was a misunderstanding, she shouldn’t have let it languish for so long.

“Maybe you should talk to her, if it really bothers you.” There wasn’t any contractual reason she couldn’t just talk things out with her now, but she still felt hesitant. “Look, I know Gin. She’ll stay angry for as long as you let her. But confronting it is like popping a balloon. It will quickly deflate all in one go and that’ll be that.”

She sighed. “You’re probably right. I mean it’s not like I have some fake narrative to spin anymore so there’s no harm in talking to her, I suppose.” She looked at him questioningly, giving him one last chance to tell her no—to change his mind about Ginny.

He brought his hand up to cup her face. “There’s no harm if you know how to block a Bat Bogey Hex.”

She burst out with laughter. “I suppose you’re right. Best to stay constantly vigilant.”

—

The day passed pleasantly between them. Hermione spent some time with Dean in the library reworking his revision schedule. Now that he was done with Quidditch, he had more time to prepare for exams. He teased her for being too aggressive in scheduling their study dates.

She looked at him seriously from atop the Muggle planner he used and glared, “These aren’t dates. During these times I’ve blocked out we’re concentrating on our assignments and revisions. That’s it.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, fine. You just better prioritize our ‘not dates’ over helping other people study.”

She glared at him and urged him to take it seriously. But she couldn’t help but smile as she penciled more time into the planner.

Hermione knew it was all backwards, but just as he had promised, they were taking everything slowly. They had already done so much together, it should make sense to jump all in on the first day. But now everything was real, and that made each little step feel thrilling and simultaneously exhausting. She was grateful that he respected that this was her first real relationship and that they were navigating her new boundaries.

A “first” is just a mental block. It’s just a matter of overcoming it. I’ve excelled at far more frightening firsts than this, she reminded herself.

Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the roll of parchment in her hand. It was later in the evening and she was editing Harry’s Defense Against the Dark Arts essay on the theory of Shield Charms. Dean had disappeared to find Seamus, who had mysteriously been absent all day. Ginny was off in the library with friends preparing for their fast approaching O.W.Ls.

“Harry, you’ve misspelled ‘shield’ three times already. You’re not using one of Ron’s wretched spell-checking quills are you?”

He was staring out the window with a glazed look in his eyes.

“Harry!” she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Huh? Sorry. No, normal quill.”

She tapped her quill to her chin, looking over the lines drawn through words and the arrows she had drawn, rearranging words for flow and tone. “Your writing is never this bad. It’s usually Ron who has this many corrections.”

He groaned, taking the parchment from her, looking over the revisions thus far. “Sorry, I’ve just been distracted.”

“You get a girlfriend and now you can’t spell?” she asked looking at him amusedly.

“No not just that.” He sat up and handed the essay back to her. “There’s something that has been bothering me.”

“Mmm,” she said, once again immersed in revisions.

“These attacks that have happened at Hogwarts, we agree that they seem to be targeting Dumbledore. So then why haven’t they increased security around him?”

Hermione laughed distractedly, puzzling over a particularly thorny run-on sentence. “Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of the modern era. What good would a bodyguard do for him?”

“I dunno, act as a deterrent? If he had a guard posted, those things wouldn’t have gotten past.”

Hermione looked up from her work, eyes narrowing. “Is this about Malfoy again? I thought we agreed to dro—”

“Not Malfoy. It’s about whoever is behind it. You’re not concerned they’re still out there?”

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “Regardless, if there was anything to actually be concerned with I’m sure the Order has looked into it and made—”

Harry gave a sudden gesture and averted his eyes, a look she knew very well meant to stop talking.

“Bad time?” Dean plopped down next to Hermione and looked between the two of them.

Harry glanced at Hermione. “No not at all!” she said with a cheery smile. “Erm, did you find Seamus?”

“Uh yeah,” he said, shifting his eyes between them, but otherwise brushing off the abrupt change in subject. “Apparently he’s got a new tutor.”

Hermione frowned, feeling slightly put out. “If he needed help I could have—” she began to say.

“I think his current tutor is much more to his liking. It’s Padma.”

“Oh.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. Taking his now forgotten essay from Hermione, he pulled out his own quill to start working on the edits she had made. “So the poetry actually worked?”

“How do you know about the poetry?” she asked, impressed at the insight into his roommates’ personal life and his memory.

“He left them lying around, didn’t he?” Harry said, bent over the essay.

“Nah, Hermione helped me convince him to just talk to her instead of showing her those.”

Harry let out a sudden bark of laughter. “Hermione?”

“And what’s so funny?” she asked crossing her arms.

“Nothing,” he said, looking up from the essay innocently. “It’s just that I don’t imagine you were in the position to give romantic advice this year.” Hermione cast her eyes around the vicinity for something to throw at him. Seeing her unarmed, he continued, “How long were you two ‘fake-dating’ before realizing, like the rest of us already had, that you both clearly fancied—hey!”

She had ripped the cushion from behind Dean and hurled it at him with surprising precision. Dean, lost as to what was going on, looked offended at suddenly having toppled over, devoid of his support. She smiled apologetically.

“So you told him, then?” he asked as he sat himself back up.

His voice wasn’t accusatory, just surprised. She hadn’t thought to tell him that she had told their secret. Her face burned with the memory of why she had told Harry in the first place, the hopeless defeat she thought she was surrendering to.

“She mentioned that, and how, like a lunatic, she sent out letters to multiple guys, including you.”

“And you!” Dean said, now laughing with Harry.

“I didn’t send them,” she said defensively. ”I don’t know how they got sent, but it wasn’t me.”

“Maybe it was house elves,” Harry said. “Second year, Dobby was doing all sorts of things to ‘help’ me that nearly got me killed.”

“Most house elves would only do that if commanded or asked,” said Dean, looking concerned at the idea of “death by house elf.”

Harry snorted. “Well you haven’t met Dobby.”

Hermione stretched and yawned, bored with the conversation. This was something she had pondered over for weeks following the incident. Of course she was still curious, but as it was stated in Hogwarts: A History, “the magic of Hogwarts will never be truly comprehended by the common witch or wizard.” She plucked Harry’s essay back from him to make her final edits, leaving them to theorize back and forth amongst themselves.

“And you didn’t get a ton of owls back saying ‘Why in the flying broomsticks did you send me a love letter?’”

She looked at Harry coolly, “They weren’t love letters, and as a matter of fact, no. I didn’t.”

“That’s a bit odd. What kind of bloke expects a letter like that? Who did you send them to?”

Harry looked at Dean expectantly because Hermione had returned to double-checking her edits and was trying to ignore him. “Well if she didn’t tell you, I don’t think I can,” Dean said shrugging.

“OK but maybe you didn’t hear back from them because one of them is the culprit,” Harry said insistently.

Hermione refused to look up. “It wasn’t any of them I’m sure.”

“Well how can you know? How many were sent?”

“Only five.”

“Five!” Harry shouted. A study group from a nearby table looked up and glared at the sudden outburst.

Dean shoved his fist to his mouth to hold in the laughter. She glared at him, a silent reminder that he was supposed to be on her side. He bit his lip in a failed attempt to sober up.

“Right, so you won’t tell me who the other two are. Obviously one is Viktor Krum. Not sure if you were compatible but he sure thought so,” he ticked one off of his fingers thoughtfully. “No clue who the last one could be though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you fancy any other guys...” he trailed off in thought.

A nudge at her ribcage. She looked up to find Dean looking back at her questioningly, his forehead creased with concern. She nodded, indicating that she was OK to let Harry speculate. She was confident. Harry would never guess who it was.

“Unless...is it Percy?” Harry burst out in laughter at his own joke. “You two did always get along.”

Instead of looking for something more to throw at him, her eyes widened slightly and her cheeks began to grow warm. It wasn’t the right guess, of course. He meant it as a teasing dig between friends about her shared bookishness with everyone’s least favorite Weasley. But his guess was closer than he knew. Percy was Oliver’s roommate and best friend in school.

Harry noticed her reaction and suddenly became serious. “Wait...you’re not serious. Was it Percy, really?”

Dean sat up, ready to step in on her behalf. But Hermione made a final mark on Harry’s essay and handed over to him. As indifferently as she could manage, she said, “As if. Prats aren’t my type.”

Harry took the essay and raised his hands in surrender. Hermione sighed in relief, happy to speak no more on the subject. Her school girl crush had been intense, albeit short lived. It was an oddly happy memory and she didn’t want Harry and Ron to ruin it with their banter and teasing, as she knew they would.

—

Everything was good for the first time all year. She didn’t feel timid any longer, but she did have principles. At the end of the first week of their official relationship, Dean had surprised her by meeting her outside of the History of Magic classroom. She giggled, pleased to see him being pleased to see her.

“No classes until Monday. Just time together, you and me,” he said as she approached.

She nodded enthusiastically and squealed in surprise as he grabbed her around the waist and spun her around. Her books thudded to the ground and she shouted, “Dean!”

He stopped spinning her around and looked at her with a slight smirk, a dimple winking at her, sending her pulse racing. While he had set her down, he still held her firmly to him. She knew there were other people watching them but the twinkle in his brown eyes had her mesmerized. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, snapping her out of her trance.

She pushed him away and looked around wildly. “Dean, I’m a prefect.”

His expression quickly went from affronted to incredulous. “You still don’t want me to kiss you, then?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

“That’s not what I mean!” Her face was hot. People were watching as they walked past. “Just not in front of everyone. I’m supposed to set an example!”

He laughed and shook his head. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose to date Hermione Granger.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips against her temple. “Well come on then,” he said with a smile and held out his hand. She blushed but took it gratefully.

—

The warm days of May blurred together in a delightful haze of revising and organizing in preparation for exams with Dean. Hermione tried to convince herself that her studies were her first priority. She had strict rules for when they studied in the library to mitigate any distractions. Dean still managed to persuade Hermione to allow for more breaks than she normally would have. These breaks sometimes consisted of them just chatting and enjoying each other’s company. Other times they consisted of other distractions amongst the stacks, away from the watchful eye of Madam Pince.

Hermione had resolved to remain resolute in her treatment of Ron. She was cordial when he was around, but was still refusing to help him with his homework or go out of her way to spend time with him. He still had yet to apologize for his outburst before the match. Now that Dean was actually her boyfriend, and she could see he had her best interests at heart, she figured that it was time to hold Ron accountable. Harry had tried to act as a liaison a few times but quickly gave up, his time being stretched thin with an increasingly busy Ginny and his remaining Saturday detentions with Snape.

The first Tuesday in June, Hermione was sitting between Dean and Ron in Greenhouse #5. Most of their Wiggentrees were reaching maturation and would soon be ready for bark stripping. This Herbology lesson was to be spent pruning the trees one last time. Dean and Hermione’s trees were not in need of pruning so they spent their lesson chatting with each other and helping Seamus and Harry as needed (Ron didn’t dare ask either for help with his).

Most students opted to use regular pruning shears, but Harry was among those, mostly Gryffindors, who insisted on severing the non-viable branches with magic. Hermione was showing him a more effective wand movement when a large clap of thunder was heard overhead. Everyone looked up, startled. It had been breezy and sunny earlier that morning.

“Goodness. The weather is turning quicker than I predicted,” Professor Sprout said absentmindedly, looking worriedly at the glass dome of the greenhouse. After a moment, she looked around the stations, finally spotting Hermione’s table. “Granger and Thomas. Your Wiggentrees are pruned, yes? I need your assistance moving the Mandrakes into Greenhouse #2. I had the second years move them outdoors to sunbathe but the rain will drown the poor lumps.”

“Sure, Professor,” Hermione said with a smile. Dean, however looked apprehensive, clearly remembering the shrieking ghoulish baby of a plant.

“They aren’t mature yet, but take these as a precaution. Don’t want you fainting in the rain.” Professor Sprout summoned a couple of ear muffs from the toolshed at the head of the greenhouse and handed them each a pair. As they walked outside, their classmates looked away, intent on pruning their plants and relieved at not being volunteered to join them.

The sky outside had indeed turned a deep sinister grey. The wind swirled around them as the clouds churned overhead. Thunder rumbled from up above in warning. From what she could tell, they had minutes. Hermione nestled her ear muffs around her neck.

As they approached the first row of greenhouses, Hermione saw that a few dozen Mandrakes had been set out amongst the Flitterbloom patch. Upon closer inspection, she could see by their leaves that they were shivering.

“Oh dear, they’re frightened. They sense the storm coming.”

“Well they can keep shivering as long as they keep their mouths shut,” Dean said, looking at the pots in disdain.

“Dean! They’re just plants.”

“Yeah, well my ears still ring thinking about the time we had to repot these gits second year.”

She sighed in frustration. “At any rate, I think we should just levitate a few at a time to make sure not to hurt them, and just go in trips.”

They were only half a dozen yards away from the greenhouse, so it shouldn’t take very long with the two of them. Or at least that’s what she thought. They had made it only one trip when a few light patters began hitting the panes of the glass. Then, without any further warning, it came down in a deluge.

Dean looked at Hermione, eyes wide. Without thinking, she ran out into the rain, her robes instantly soaked through. She reached the Mandrakes and pointed her wand to the sky, Protego! she said forcefully in her mind. The spell bloomed overhead like an invisible umbrella, protecting the entire patch. Panting she looked down at the shivering Mandrakes, water dripping from her hair down into her face, conditioner stinging her eyes.

Dean ran towards her, now also sopping wet.

“Just take them! I’ll wait here!” she shouted over the rain. He looked at her doubtfully, eyeing the distance between the patch and the greenhouse. “A little water won’t hurt them, just go.”

He nodded resolutely and picked up a couple in one arm, levitating a couple of other pots with his other, running as he went. Back and forth he went, nearly slipping in mud a couple of times. Hermione’s arm was growing tired by the time he came back for the last few pots.

“You ready?” he asked, looking at her intensely. For a moment she was confused, then she realized what he meant. They were going to make a break for the greenhouse.

She looked up at her charm, knowing she wouldn’t be able to run and hold the charm steady. Looking at him she nodded. He flicked his wand and levitated the final three pots. “On three. One...two...three!”

He grabbed her hand with his free one, Hermione released the charm, and they ran. Not only was she soaked, but in the short distance covered by their sprint, she had kicked up so much mud her legs were covered. It was a warm rain, and by the time they reached Greenhouse #2, she realized she was laughing.

They burst through the threshold and she doubled over in laughter. Water was pooling on the ground at her feet. Dean lowered the plants onto a workbench with the others and turned back to her, panting. He was looking at her like she was crazy. She must have looked it, soaked from head to toe, damp limp curls framing her face, mud caked on her legs. But after a moment, he too was laughing.

“Freaking Mandrakes,” he said incredulously.

“I’m a mess,” she said through tears of mirth, looking down at the robes clinging to her body, her now brown shoes and socks.

“Yeah you are,” he snorted, kissing her on the cheek. She blushed and gripped her wand.

Clearing her throat, she reached out for his robes. His eyebrows shot up and he tensed. She pointed her wand at him and thought Aguamenti. A small jet of water shot out from it and she began siphoning the mud off of his and her shoes and legs.

Chuckling he reached out and began wringing out parts of their robes. Splats of water fell to the floor. Their giggles were interspersed with incantations for hot and cold air as they worked to dry all of their things. Hermione dried their shoes as Dean dried her clothes. She dried his clothes as he moved to dry her hair.

She stopped him there though. “If I’m going to dry my hair, I have to use the Cool-Air Charm and twist it like—”

He cut her off, looking at her as if she were overlooking an obvious fact. “Hermione, I know how to dry hair.”

She paused and looked at him. She was so used to explaining how her hair worked to others — primary schoolmates, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny — that she was always taking for granted that not only was Dean black, but he had five younger sisters.

Biting her lip she smiled shyly. “Oh, right.” She nodded for him to continue.

Moving around her, he worked with precision and patience. He really did know what he was doing. Her heart fluttered, impressed with the boy before her.

“Done,” he said from behind her.

They looked each other over. Hermione laughed, “I think it’ll do. Oh hold on, your hair.”

Beads of water still clung to his small afro. She reached up to fix it but he grabbed her hand to stop her. “Leave it.” He was looking at her with that dangerous glint in his eye. The same glint that often lead to them hiding amongst the shelves in the library.

She licked her lips and looked around nervously. “They’ll be expecting us back,” she said, smiling despite herself. Playfully, she backed away.

“Not until the rain stops.”

The pings and patters of rain on the greenhouse had yet to subside. She smirked in turn, her hips hitting the workbench behind her. He stepped towards her. Giggling, she said, “Alright, until the rain stops.”

—

The rest of the day passed more eventfully than either of them had expected. By the time they got back, they found they were some sort of horticultural heroes.

“We were worried you got lost out there!” one Hufflepuff exclaimed during their free period in the library.

Hermione was generally used to these sorts of stories being blown out of proportion to what actually happened. This, she had to admit, had been the most ludicrous of them all. They had moved some potted plants to a greenhouse in the rain and then...And then hid in the greenhouse until the rain stopped, she said to herself.

By the end of the day Dean, who was not used to the attention, was exhausted and turned in early. Hermione stayed up, reading an anthology of old Daily Prophet articles she had found in the library. She had found a student by the name of Eileen Prince the previous week and was convinced she was “The Half-Blood Prince.” She assured Harry she intended to find out for sure. The articles were fascinating from a historical standpoint. There was foreign news of Grindelwald’s transfer to Nurmengard, the paper lauding the defeat and capture by the one and only Albus Dumbledore. It struck her how history, even in the magical world, seemed doomed to repeat itself.

A couple of hours past curfew Ron plopped down next to her with a book and parchment. She glanced up at him warningly.

“I’m not here to ask for your help! Just thought I’d join you. Harry’s off meeting with Dumbledore.”

After a moment, she nodded that it was fine, turning her attention back to the anthology. There was one interesting article about defected Grindelwald followers who had sought asylum in the UK.

The article almost had her enthralled, but she found Ron’s lack of distraction in itself distracting. To her surprise, Ron really did seem intent on doing his homework on his own. He was hunched over the coffee table in front of him, cross referencing the book as he wrote. She glared skeptically at him over her book. This was undoubtedly just a performance that Harry probably advised was a good idea. She explicitly told Harry the only way they would make-up was if he apologized and meant it this time.

Shaking her head, she turned back to her article. Before she could find her place however, Harry burst in, a wild look in his eyes, panting.

“What’s happened? Harry, are you OK?” she asked in concern.

Ron sat up from his essay and looked at him. “What did Dumbledore want mate?”

“I’m fine,” he said after a moment of looking between the two of them. He raced up the boys’ dormitory staircase.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other incredulously. She closed her book and set it aside, article forgotten. Before they could say anything else, Harry was stomping back down the staircase, Invisibility Cloak and Marauder’s Map in hand.

“I’ve got to be quick,” he panted. “Dumbledore thinks I’m getting my Cloak. Listen, I heard Malfoy whooping in the Room of Requirement. Well, Professor Trelawney heard him. Never mind that. He’s solved whatever he’s been trying to do and is going to act tonight. Dumbledore won’t be here, leaving Malfoy a clear shot to do whatever it is he’s doing.”

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other skeptically. “Harry—”

“No, listen to me!” he said forcefully. “I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here—” He shoved the Marauder’s Map into Hermione’s hands. A vague sense of dread that she hadn’t felt in well over a month started expanding inside of her. She looked down apprehensively at the map. “You’ve got to watch him and you’ve got to watch Snape too.” Hermione looked at him incredulously. Harry pressed forward, ignoring her gaping expression. “Gather anyone you can from the D.A. Hermione. Use the old contact Galleons. Dumbledore put extra protection around the school, but Snape will know about that, won’t he? Won’t be expecting you lot on watch though.”

“Harry—” Hermione’s eyes were now wide with fright. If what he was saying were true they should go straight to Dumbledore.

“There’s no time,” he said. “Take this as well.”

He thrust a ball of socks into Ron’s hands.

“Erm, thanks. What, am I meant to throw these at Snape’s head?”

“Felix Felicis is wrapped in them,” he said, urgently backing away from them toward the portrait, “Share it between yourselves and with Ginny too. Say goodbye to her for me. I’ve gotta go, I’ve been too long already.”

“Harry!” she exclaimed, more forcefully this time, standing up from her seat. “We don’t want it, you take it! Who knows what you’ll face hunting for a Horcrux.” She snatched the socks from Ron and thrust them out towards Harry. Her voice was shrill, but resolute.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be with Dumbledore,” he said. Hermione grit her teeth, anxiety seeping into every crevice of her being now, worried for her friend, worried that he might be right. “I’ve got to know you lot are OK...Don’t look like that, Hermione, I’ll see you later.”

And with that he was gone.

They sat dumbfounded, the silence impregnable. She looked down at Ron, who had gone slightly pale. She took a deep shaky breath. He could be wrong, she knew. But something was gnawing at the back of her mind, instinct. It was that same feeling before they ran off to the Ministry last year. Calm and steady, she said to herself. With a woosh of air she breathed out.

“I’ll go get the Galleon then,” she said finally, squaring her shoulders.

Ron stood too, taking the map from her now only slightly shaking hands. “I’ll start looking for the ferrety git on here.”

She walked towards the staircase and stopped. “Ron.” He looked up from the map. “You better drink your part of Felix. I’m going to go get Ginny.”

He nodded, a look of understanding passing between them. Once again Hermione knew there would be no “Sorry.” There would be no time for one. She nodded and turned around, accepting that facing whatever this was would have to be more important.

To Be Continued…