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flamboyantly-incompetent · 1 year ago

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OoTP, Chapter 7 - The Sack of DA

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

Word Count: ~2,500

Note: it had to happen, Malfoy is still a massive butthead, don't blame me...

The days following the term resuming were, in a word, horrific. You rose Monday morning and were greeted in the Great Hall by a swarm of Gryffindors passing around a battered issue of the Daily Prophet, and your heart sunk. Ginny was nowhere in sight, but the teachers' table carried the same intense chatter.

"What's happened?" you whispered to Hermione. She said nothing, but passed you the newspaper so you could read the headline. It took a moment to process what you'd read - Death Eaters, an escape from Azkaban, ten Death Eaters. Hermione remained silent, rose abruptly, and hurried out of the Great Hall.

A few tension-filled days later, and you learned that the old toad had put Hagrid on probation. The only thing worse than that was that no one knew when the next meeting of Dumbledore's Army could be. An odd coldness had settled between yourself and Draco, spurred by his smugness and malicious pleasure regarding Hagrid's status. During the Herbology lesson that followed, Professor Sprout beamed through her lecture on Screechsnaps; apparently Draco had done an excellent job with the puffapods over the break. The small victory seemed hollow, though.

Care of Magical Creatures was even worse. Umbridge insisted on interrupting every few minutes to ask a mind-numbingly stupid question, rarely related to the lesson plan, and then Hagrid would stumble through a response that only ever half-answered her question.

You did, eventually, run into Ginny in the Owlery, and managed to ask her how Mr. Weasley was getting on.

“Oh, he’s doing much better, thanks!” she said, grinning. Her breath fogged instantly in the chilled air at the top of the tower. “He’s home now, driving Mum crazy.”

“Well that’s good, I’m glad to hear it.” You looked casually over your shoulder. “Do you know when…?” you trailed off, eyebrows raised.

Ginny caught your meaning and nodded. “Pretty sure soon, he’s been busy with, erm, remedial Potions.”

Your mouth fell open. That was surprising. Harry wasn’t Snape’s favorite, no one was, but surely he couldn’t be that bad. Especially not with Hermione around to whisper corrections every few minutes, which you knew she had a habit of doing since having been paired with her one very, very long DA meeting. “Wow,” was all you managed to say.

Ginny frowned, “Yeah he’s not thrilled about it either.”

You laughed sardonically. “Well if he needs any help in Herbology,” not sure where that came from, you trailed off, uncomfortable.

Ginny looked at you quizzically.

You sighed. “I’ve got a bit of an odd question. What do you think of Draco Malfoy?”

Her face screwed up in disgust. “Why d’you want to know about him?”

“Well,” you hesitated, deciding on a half-truth, “he’s in my Herbology 5, and I don’t quite know what to make of him.”

“He’s a bully, and a git. And an idiot.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

She patted your arm sympathetically. “Your determination to like everyone is admirable, but trust me - that one’s a lost cause.” You smiled weakly at the compliment. “I’ve got to go, see you later!”

Ginny trotted down the icy stairs as fast as she could manage, leaving you in the cold with only more questions than before.

Valentine’s Day came and went, and you and Donna observed with increasing amusement as Herbert attempted on three separate occasions to invite Yvette to Hogsmeade, presumably on a date. The first time, sitting in the Great Hall over breakfast, she attempted to invite a few other people along. The second, after History of Magic, she hadn’t heard him properly and agreed that yes, they should study veritaserum for potions in the library today. The third, from across the common room, she replied that she planned to spend the whole Saturday gearing up for the next quidditch game against Gryffindor.

Herbert watched, dumbfounded, as Yvette moved on casually to discussing the practice schedule with Zacharias Smith.

Donna patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe for the best though. Valentine’s Day is way too much pressure for a first date.”

The Saturday morning of the long awaited match, when you woke Yvette and the rest of the quidditch team had already left for breakfast, so you and Donna bundled up and met Herbert in the common room. At the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, the team sat eating in unhappy silence. Devon Summerby sneezed loudly over his breakfast.

“What’s got you lot in a twist?” Herbert asked as the three of you sat down.

Zacharius Smith flinched. “I guess Gryffindor’s last practice was exceptionally pitiful. Which would be great for us, except-”

“Except,” Yvette interrupted, seething, “Summerby caught a cold. What was it this time? Forget your cloak for Care of Magical Creatures?”

Devon Summerby’s voice came out nasal and stressed, “How many times are you gonna make me say I’m sorry?”

“As many times as needed to win the match,” Zacharias snapped. “And I’d ask you to step in, Y/N, but Hooch says he’s well enough to play.”

Then the Gryffindor team sat down at their table in similarly poor spirits.

Adding insult to injury, Draco Malfoy and his gaggle of goonies followed, taking a long and all too satisfied look around. He never met your eye.

“Well,” he said, smug, “this certainly promises to be quite the show. Do try not to embarrass yourselves too much.” Finally his gaze met yours, lingering uncomfortably. He looked away and said to his lackeys, “Crabbe, Goyle, let’s go.”

You scowled at his back as he led his ‘friends’ out to the courtyard. Donna clocked the look and raised an eyebrow.

Across the room, Ron Weasley had turned a shade of green. Ginny patted him on the back in an attempt at encouragement.

The match was nothing to write home about. Yvette, Zacharias and Cadawaller snuck upwards of fifteen goals past Ron Weasley, but Devon Summerby missed the snitch as it passed under his nose twice, eliciting screams of outrage from the Hufflepuff spectators. In the end, Ginny caught the snitch, closing the gap, and Hufflepuff won but only barely.

During the entire match, the Slytherin attendees could be heard singing another insulting refrain of “Weasley Is Our King,” and you didn’t need to wonder who had led the chorus.

After dinner, Donna cornered you in the common room amidst a half-hearted celebration.

“Please tell me,” she began in a whisper, “that Slytherin you were tutoring wasn’t Draco ‘My-Father-Will-Hear-About-This’ Malfoy?”

“I never noticed how perceptive you are, you should really-”

“Y/N. Be serious. He’s insufferable; why are you helping him?”

You shrugged, unsure of your own feelings. “He’s not that bad when there’s not an audience.”

“Oh, so you’ve been spending quality time alone with him too? Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush now?”

Once she said it, you couldn’t unhear it. Was it a crush? Your gut churned; you weren’t sure.

You answered, “I don’t know, ok? Yeah half the time I wanna punch him in the face, but the other half? I don’t know.”

Donna frowned, looked around to see if anyone had been listening. “Look, I don’t care if you’ve got a crush on the rich bad boy, but I wish you’d told me. I wish you’d told me when you started tutoring him. And I wish you’d told me about the study club.”

“I told you I didn’t think I could-”

Yvette threw an arm around each of you. “Whatever it is you’re whispering about can wait. Please help me save this party.”

The argument halted before it could begin, you spent the remainder of your evening enchanting chestnuts to roast themselves and explode into confetti.

The Great Hall was abuzz with chatter the next morning, nothing new, but about halfway through your breakfast you watched as Umbridge stomped over to the Gryffindor table.

“This can’t be good,” Herbert muttered as the whole table tried to eavesdrop.

Whatever it was must’ve been something truly magnificent as, for maybe the first time ever, she was speechless. She sputtered for a moment, then stomped back up the aisle, something tucked under her arm.

Exactly one hour later, a new Educational Decree went up, banning a certain news publication, and Herbert proudly appeared in the common room with said publication.

This edition of The Quibbler featured an interview from none other than Harry Potter himself.

Wanda Clemm and Ezra Roberts corralled him into an arm chair and demanded he read the article aloud. He obliged. It was a tell-all account of what happened during the games last year, so well written it had captivated everyone in the common room who sat at the edges of their seats.

It also named the Death Eaters that had been unmasked by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself: Peter Pettigrew, not dead after all; Avery; Macnair; Crabbe; Goyle; and… Malfoy.

So. This is what he’d meant when he said their families went ‘way back.’ That they were more like ‘colleagues’ than friends. Their fathers were all Death Eaters together, like some sick social club. Disgust rose in your throat - but he never seemed particularly fond of them, maybe, just maybe there was still hope?

In the month that followed, Dumbledore’s Army continued to meet with renewed vigor. No longer were these secret meetings merely a replacement for the joke Defense Against the Dark Arts had become, but something far more immediate. Finally, after months of asking about it, Harry Potter announced it was time to learn the Patronus Charm.

He kept on trying to emphasize the importance of being able to produce it under attack from Dementors, but was respectfully ignored as the wispy white animals took over the room.

Donna had no trouble at all thinking of a happy memory and letting it fill her up to the brim. A massive, slobbering St. Bernard leapt from her wand and nipped at the wisps from failed charms.

Herbert followed close behind. From his wand, an osprey, a fish-hawk, took flight.

You had far more trouble, as did Yvette. You shared a disappointed look. For some disconcerting reason, every happy memory you could think of was overshadowed by some feeling of disappointment. Seeing the dragons during the tournament - Cedric’s death. Hagrid returning with tiny versions of those dragons - Umbridge putting him on probation. Christmas at home with mum and Julien - a painful reminder of your father’s passing. Racing across a frigid pond to a crystalline forest with an unexpected friend - the hot, uneasy feeling you got in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him now.

All tainted, all failed.

Then, Yvette’s patronus burst forth, a beautiful dun mare galloping through the air, and the frustration you felt boiled over.

You groaned, shoved your wand in your back pocket, and stomped over to the edge of the room. There were a few others having equal trouble, like Seamus, but it was his first meeting. He hadn’t been training under Harry’s (and Hermione’s at times) excellent tutelage for months as you had. Harry was across the room, coaching Neville and trying to coax more than a faint wisp from the spell.

This was ridiculous.

You were training under Harry ‘the Chosen One’ Potter. Preparing for an all too possible, almost inevitable, magical war. And your closest friends were doing even better than you; they’d be just fine.

You abandoned fragmented warm and fuzzy memories, and instead tried to let the confidence of watching your friends, Ginny and Luna too, succeed fill you up. Then, you attempted to cast the Patronus Charm, just one more time before giving up.

Slowly, confidently, a grey wolf lined in silver came padding out of your wand. Its head held high, it circled around behind you to stand at your side, content to observe the wandering patronuses around the room. That was interesting.

“Talk about a wolf in sheep’s clothing, eh Y/N?” Herbert joked at you.

Sarcastically, you replied, “Oh, very funny.”

Across the room, a nervous voice stuttered, “Harry Potter… she… she…”

You recognized the house elf - he was always wearing multiple knit hats, gloves, socks, which he was still wearing as he tried desperately to impart some information to Harry, who was leaning over him in concern.

The room grew terribly still and the silvery wisps dissipated along with the images of animals as spells fizzled out. Your stomach sank to your feet once Harry finally deciphered the house elf’s meaning - Umbridge. Your worst nightmare. Everyone’s worst nightmare.

Harry looked around incredulously, then shouted, “RUN!”

Your friends wasted no time - Donna grabbed your wrist to pull you along - and bolted for the exit. In the corridor, members of Dumbledore’s Army scattered like sparrows out of a roost, and Barnabas the Barmy giggled wildly to himself in his portrait. Herbert, at the lead, pivoted hard and followed Hannah towards the library.

Behind you, an unmistakable voice laughed cruelly. Surely, Draco wouldn’t have aligned himself with that toad. Surely.

You didn’t have time to ponder, for a meter or two from the library doors your friends slowed and tried to catch their breath before ambling off nonchalantly, branching into the stacks.

For a moment you thought it may have worked, you’d caught your breath and had picked a book at random to idly page through. Then, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle burst through the doors.

“Really!” Madame Pince exclaimed.

Draco held up a hand, commanding and smug. “We are here by official instruction of the High Inquisitor. I’d hate to have to tell her how you interfered.”

Madame Pince paled at his words, and went back to the papers on her desk.

Then they moved through the library, in almost predatory unison. You tried to keep a subtle eye on Draco, moving when he moved, angling for the exit. This was not a confrontation you looked forward to. But it was all for naught. You rounded a corner you shouldn’t have and came face to face with Malfoy. He took a suspicious step back.

“Tell me,” he said, voice low and threatening, “you weren’t hanging around Potter,” he spat out the name like a curse, like the taste of it was foul, “and that louse Weasley, and that mudblood Granger.”

Oh.

Oh. Several key pieces of information clicked into place in your head. Ginny’s opinion of him, the Slytherin password, the way he’d said ‘goblins’ talking about Gringotts. So many signs. And you’d missed every one.

You stepped back on a foot, fists held to your sides, and returned his wrathful glare.

The Slytherin girl barged through the doors, stealing the attention. “We’ve got the list,” she purred, “Round them up.”

Malfoy turned back to you, and in the second it took you considered disarming him. Stunning him maybe. You were getting detention up to your ears anyway. And you'd like to see if you could do it.

But then, Crabbe came round the corner with Herbert, Goyle had Donna by the arm, and the saccharine girl caught Yvette as she tried to edge out of the room.

Still looking at you, Malfoy commanded, “Take these to Professor Umbridge. I’ll finish here.”

Fuming, you followed your friends to certain doom, leaving Malfoy behind, certain which side you both fell on.

~~~ Taglist ~~~

@jemomgershippingco

@ronslovergirl

@snickersmee

@lafrone

@cillshot

@reb0rned

#draco malfoy #draco x hufflepuff!reader #harry potter #draco x reader #slow burn #order of the phoenix #dumbledore's army

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getittogetherk · 1 year ago

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November 12, 2023

Today was the first "better" day in a long time.

The last week I suppose was fairly typical. Staying in bed after my alarm would go off, staring into my phone, half working, and half staring at my phone, news, any news, celebrity news, huffington post personal stories, youtube topics that i don't really care for, but are there and have millions of views.

there is little difference between my time working and not working. i go from staring at my phone every other minute to just staring at it every minute, usually from bed. then i go over to the cluttered dining table where i clear a little spot, eat something unhealthy (these days: boxed kraft mac 'n cheese, ramen, or sujaebi), all while staring at my phone some more. i got a notification that my average screen time was over 10 hours last week.

a few updates: mom closed on her new place up the street, and last weekend cindy eemo and christina eemo flew over to help pack her up and move her in. that weekend i went to solvang overnight with lana and mirna for a nice dinner, wine tasting, a little indian casino, and a lot of just hanging out. when i came back, i took the eemos out to sushi gen saturday night, then to church on sunday morning, and then drove them to LAX monday evening.

last week was a pretty typical workweek. a few chores during my telework days, in office all day wednesday, no journaling, no reading, some intermittent messages with a lady on tinder. a lot of phone-staring, zombie scrolling, bed rotting.

this past weekend i had friday off and just slept for hours and hours. 12, per fitbit. and i made and ate just pounds and pounds of sujaebi.

on saturday i made some effort to clean as much as i could, as 1: i had planned to, and 2: rhiannon was going to come over and the place had gotten a bit out of hand. i was able to wash some dishes and pick up a few things, and then she came over, we walked for 1.5-2 hours at the gabrielino trail by jpl while we talked, then ate at roscoe's, then switched our trunk contents, emptying my many many moving boxes and swapping it with her drinks and snacks from one of her last work productions. she had wanted some help bouncing off ideas and listing pros and cons to figure out her next steps, as she had recently learned that she'd be losing her job by the end of the year, and she needed to line up things like: where to store her things, how to get out of her lease when her apartment mate was still on it, whether she could stay here intermittently if she had in-person interviews, what size of a storage unit she'd need. she ended up staying for quite a while, procrastinating, and instead mostly working on and finishing up the puzzle we had started some weeks earlier.

today was the first okay day in a long time. i wasn't desperately texting anyone who would listen. wasn't asking lana or danielle or amir what they were doing, what they're ever doing, if i can join, if i can just peripherally participate.

today i woke up at a reasonable time, did some chores, got out to the local church, New Abbey, cried, worshipped, prayed, held hands, and then went to Bea Bea's in burbank where i caught up with amy and cried just a little more. it was very good to see her. then to walmart where i picked up a few needed items (detergent, toilet paper, a clipboard, etc.) then a 45 minute walk, a shower, and a quick visit to my mom where we tried to figure out what kinds of repairs/services she'd be needing, i briefed her on my church experience, i ate dinner, and then came home.

i had a lot of coffee today, saw people who i loved and who loved me, and felt seen and accepted at church. i also got some very much needed exercise and started up with my lists again. weekly lists, monthly lists. little steps. daily outdoor excursions. one fruit/vegetable serving a day. more journaling. more reading. less screen time.

today felt hopeful. feeling grateful.

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priscila-runs · 1 year ago

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Week 5 of 20 complete! Here’s my diary of what I tracked, thought, and learned during my fifth week of training:

Did the math last week on food and realized that I must fuel more 🍕! If, per my various online sources, a runner should eat 20-24 calories per pound of body weight for every 1-2 hours of training, then I need to be eating around 2200-2500 calories a day. Since I’m eating about 1200 a day right now, my belly will be glad to know lots more company will be joining her in the coming months. Pasta, black beans, brown rice, sweet potatoes, lentils, bananas and yogurt are currently on the VIP list. Dreading the poop schedule adjustments but let’s cross that bridge when we get there, shall we? Daily log:

Monday: took the day off per my new schedule. Been reading Freud lately which gives me lots to think about while running. What a fascinating and (perhaps unfairly) misunderstood guy. Salmon, asparagus, brown rice for dinner!

Tuesday: FIRED UP. Banana beforehand. Five miles to start off the week. Yogurt after a solid 8:20s pace.

Wednesday: Felt a little more tired and groggy in the morning but managed four miles at 8:teens pace. I’m snacking a lot since it’s an easy and quick way to fill the fuel tank or whatever. Dinner was lots of pasta, broccoli, bell peppers, chicken. Yogurt and granola for dessert.

Thursday: Exhausted and woke up late (5:25AM) and antagonistic so I’ll apologize later, feeling bad about it now. Anyway, doing my hair takes a while and this morning it led to me getting caught up in conversation. My boyfriend told me that Freud says women are culturally stunted. I find that very interesting and even intuitive so I don’t disagree, but is it possible that men are stunted in culture, caught up in it and its materiality and that while women are dialectically attached to society, women experience and therefore feel beyond culture? Idk. I wrote about the conservative nature of women in domestic roles and the relationship of this dynamic to Texas society. Maybe Freud and I could have written something together in another life. Anyway, these conversations w/bae in the morning completely make my day 🥰 Went out the door by 6:30AM and came back by 7:30AM. It was a 2x2 mile tempo 🥵

Friday: Lunchtime run of three miles at 8:20 pace. It was a good run and I was able to sustain pace! Tonight my friend Sarah and I are going out to dinner and then a DJ dance party afterwards.

Saturday: wow came home at 2AM after one cocktail, three Modelos, and lots of dancing. I paid for it today with a three miles at ten minute pace 💀💀💀 but I had a complete blast last night so it was worth it 🪩 Did ten minutes of HIT and added stability stretches to do at the end of every run, but first I’m going to pilot them tonight before bed. Long run tomorrow. For the rest of today I’m going to hydrate constantly, eat a lot (healthy), and then to head to bed very early tonight. I know these efforts today will pay off tomorrow.

Sunday: 13 miles today! It felt fantastic. Woke up around 6AM and had a bagel w peanut butter and drank a glass of water and coffee. By 8AM I headed out with sunscreen lathered and my UCan gels strapped. At mile 7 I had to stop by a convenience store for a water bottle—investing in something collapsible will be crucial otherwise I’ll be lugging around a weight once I’m done hydrating. Next time I’ll take my gel at 40-45min instead of 1hour. By some accounts it’s important to gel before actually needing it. I’m out of packets so I’m debating trying a new kind or going with the same brand as they seem to be working fine. Form and cadence are essential!!!!! Improving these and also focusing on them during my runs has made the most difference for my speed and endurance. Since I need strong abs, arms, and legs for good form and cadence, strength training will be a big priority for me entering week 6.

Practicing mindfulness.

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tasmiq · 2 years ago

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Inspirations from Ramadan culminating to Eid al-Fitr in 2023

Swimming in a sea of daily devotional milestones, I could only offer shorter Jumu'ah Khuthbah in Ramadan! These were...

Day 1 of Ramadan 2023

#1. I like to ask the question “what’s bothering you?” from myself and others, when I see a gloomy cloud hovering above.

And for almost every answer to that question, you can see the solution vividly- “Be grateful”.

And it’s true - gratitude can help us see all of our problems in a completely different light. It can help us focus on finding solutions rather than complaining. It helps us stay positive and happy, even in tough situations. It helps us work even harder in life so we never take anything for granted.

Gratitude is the only mindset that lies at the heart of patience, happiness and hard work.

Due to gratitude, you are compelled into service, Subhana'Allah, as expounded by our Tariqa:

#2. On that note of gratitude, this Ramadan also represents my willing fast of Ada, my Physiotherapist, who I recognise as a Godsend. When she first told me, I was able to set aside my nafs and affirm that she had to leave.

What's more, I keep being shown the immense resonance we share:

- we never tire of heartful chat, to the point we are both confused by sexual fluidity!

- her hubby is born on the same day as you twins!

- even our monthlies timed in the end!

#3. Being made to recognise the critical role of Rabita, I was able to transform my patriarchal judgement of our former leaders, who are our knots on the rope to Allah!

They wouldn't have been able to be where they are, without key womenfolk that buttressed them there as our collective leaders!

Reflecton on the 8th and 2nd day of Jumu'ah in Ramadan

#1. Shaykh Nishaat echoed haqq when he said that spiritual energy is tangibly felt in the body during the action of Rabita (heart connection). In Ramadan, it becomes apparent that our spiritual selves need a body to rest upon.

Our emotional and spiritual sides need to be nurtured in the body. Therfore, we are blessed to materialise physical, emotional and spiritual synchronicity through the practice of fasting in Ramadan!

#2. Then we were blessed with a Ramadan Saturday Sohbet where Shaykh Taner and Anne related that Allah created us in a way that we can make mistakes to learn from. However, it is "cheaper" to learn from others' mistakes!

Fasting is an exercise of exhibiting our behaviour when we're hungry. Allah gives us the opportunity to tame our nafs because our focus should be Allah through connection, devotion, and being grateful!

However, what's tricky is when our nafs can divert us with an obsession with enumerating our devotions, especially in Ramadan! However, we have to do our devotions intently and with love as a yearly opportunity to refresh our imaan.

#3. Another constant illuminary of ours, Shaykh Abdal Hakim Murad, related that Allah is As-Samad (The Eternal and Independent) and Al-Ghani (Self-sufficiient One), and Ramadan is our opportunity to experience that! Through our free will that chooses to refrain from our usual comforts, as opposed to performing an outright action, Insha'Allah! 💓🤲

youtube

Jumu'ah Khuthbah: 14 April 2023

We have entered into the final 10 days of Ramadan, Alhamdulillah, for the renewed purpose this Ramadan has brought.

Undoubtedly a richer Ramadan to previous years. Ya Shakur for Shaykh Taner and team's English translated version of the holy Qur'an, which has made it so!

#1. Shaykh Nishaat spoke of gratefulness in one's state of being, beyond one's mind. The practice of gratefulness opens a myriad of experiences with Allah, where one is made to experience all things good; such as greater kindness, humility, softness, generosity, etc

Just as my surrender of my former Physiotherapist has been rewarded with another mighty interesting and soulful Therapist, leaving me swimming in an ocean of deep gratefulness!

#2. In a learning circle, your Rehbir Abbu reflected how a congregational Zikr channels concentrated spiritual energy, akin to a magnifying glass transferring the sun's heat / energy to another surface! Through the practice of Zikr, we also enact Allah's name in our actions.

#3. I came upon an undeniable verse in the Qur’an, as an accident survivor, Subhana'Allah and Ya Shakur! Shaykh Nishaat, at one point, mentioned that I am having a raw and real relationship with Allah in the very moment.

And also in your own selves (are signs). Can you not see them? - (Al Dhariyat 21)

Jumu'ah Khuthbah: 21 April 2023

#1. Today, we enter Ramadan Jamat ul-Vida, which is the last Jumu'ah before Eid ul-Fitr. This day holds a lot of significance during the month of Ramadan! Shaykh Nishaat reminded us of this on another Jumu'ah that was highlighted as Laylatul Qadr (the night of decree or power when the Qur'an was revealed).

I was armed with purpose in seeking Allah's forgiveness with gratitude for connecting the deepest with His words in the Qur'an, through Shaykh Taner and team's translated and chronological version.

#2. Shaykh Nishaat mirrored an undeniable truth where in Ramadan, we are given the opportunity to sharpen our focus on Allah! That's because we are in this life for a short time, as realised through the sudden parting with your Uncle Fazeel and Uncle Moeayne...Allah bless their beautiful souls 🤲

Given our short term in our worldly lives, we shouldn't worry about the things that we can't control! The question comes down to whether we have spent our time feeding our nafs or with Allah?

#3. This is the deepest I have gone into the Qur'an where I meet an unending sense of awe and further future inquisition. In my 19th Juz, did I even go into poetic Ramadan hal (ecstasy) 🥹🙈

Signs

A blessed life partner was he designed to be

An undeniable faith affirming love story

All praise and gratitude to Al-Musawwir, Who shaped ours with Divine Love

When he intimated that our connection was deeper than the norm

A large tree mystically sprinkled fine flowers

Beautifully nestled upon the emancipation gained in one another

When looking onto the horizon...

A dolphin leapt into the air

Akin to it, one mustered courage to take the leap of faith

How can one possibly deny the Divine favours?

That rose above potentially destructive truths

Instead, opening the floodgates to devotion

The happenings thereafter were further signs

A rocky road to Sufism

Shared parenthood and even a near-death experience

Looking to Divine Scripture for affirmation of faith

When our love story is just that

Divine gratitude to the Source of Love

#Youtube

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evolvingseasonally · 2 years ago

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VISION | My body has been everywhere for the past two weeks. My resting heart rate went up, my cycle was painful, and I got hit on Saturday with nasal congestion, sore throat, and a cough. No, it’s not COVID (tested)-tree allergies are very high, and I have them year-round. Life takes us to the lessons we need to learn, and sometimes life happens, and we have to deal with what’s going on. Today I feel so much better. I slept and rested since Friday. I have been watching season 1 of The Originals and love it. I never finished it when it first came out. I cleaned a bit, plus lunch, and now I’m winding down to do some self-care and work on my vision board. I discovered The Vision Board Toolkit by @visioningchris on Etsy. It’s really cool! It has exercises before, during, and after creating the vision board. It also has daily pages to track the vision and reflective sections. I’m super excited to do the vision board guide portion. Other tools I’m using for my self-care today: 🎧@apple AirPods to listen to Good Vibes-Binaural Beats App (on YouTube too) 💄@cloth_and_paper Aesthete Smoothing Lip Balm for my very chapped lips 💅🏼 @bareyourhands to give my hands and nails some TLC 😷 @ricola Max cough drop because it’s helping a lot. I think my body is purging out, plus asking for more self-care. More love. More rest. It’s hard to break habits and set a new course, but I’m improving and learning. That’s all we can do. I know I got this, and you do too. SUPPORT EVOLVING SEASONALLY BY liking, sharing, commenting, and saving this post. Tag a friend too! Shop the evolving seasonally store too! Links in bio. Doing these things help me spread the word about my work. I appreciate your support. ABOUT JANIE I’m a Self-Love Coach, Holy Fire Reiki Master, plus a full-time High School Family Consumer Science Teacher. At Evolving Seasonally, I share tools and methods to plan and implement a mindful life during any season of your life. Visit evolvingseasonally.com to learn more. #selflove #selfcare #selflovecoach #planyourselfcare #planning #mindfulplanning #mindfulplans #intentionalliving #visionboard #goals https://www.instagram.com/p/Co5RxjVOrIK/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#selflove #selfcare #selflovecoach #planyourselfcare #planning #mindfulplanning #mindfulplans #intentionalliving #visionboard #goals

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a-nerd-just-trying · 2 years ago

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OK, originally the small rant below my first poi t was the main point but I felt that this would also be important to share, so I put it first.

Main Point

I do writing, primarily for my not so daily anymore random quotes fic for Splatoon over on AO3. It was a big drain on my ability to write actual projects and my creativity when I did it daily and due to that I decided that my schedule for uploads needed to change and allow myself to take breaks when needed. So I did, uploading on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday instead of daily, which has been much better. That alone gave me more time for college work, relaxation, and other larger projects. If I continued my daily schedule, I wouldn't have had time to animate two SFMs over four weeks or write my TF2 fic or my Arma 3 GATE fic. You get the point. Proper scheduling and spaced out content allows for better content, which is a lesson that everyone needs to learn.

Okay rant time.

Yeah, @moringmark needs to take a break, honestly I felt the writing for both of these was a bit off. While I did like the aroace rep the fact that it was done this way is ehhh.

Not to mention the point regarding the test, it just feels so buzzfeed that it did take me out of it a bit. I did laugh at the Lillith wanting to win joke but that literally could have been implemented in some other way, any other way.

Moringmark, I've loved your stuff for a long time but this criticism is valid. I won't stop reading your stuff and this is by no means an endorsement for anyone to do so because of two messy comic strips.

It takes an incredible writer to mix seriousness and comedy in a way that works, which isn't MoringMark, at least not in what I can only assume is an overworked state.

Also, I've found myself enjoying the comics less. They aren't bad it's just that the writing has relied on some kinda obvious/dumb jokes that failed to land with me.

Also, the fact they tried to keep up with canon over continuing their own plot threads that had been going for a whole during the gap between season 2 and 3 felt almost disappointing. It doesn't feel like Moringmark is trying to make his own stories anymore either, just making fluff and comedy.

MorningMark Needs to take a break.

Listen, I've been and probably many others this too.

@moringmark needs to take a break. Atleast from The Owl House if not from comic's for his own mental health.

It cna be seen in the quality of his comics, mainly in writing.

Yes, there's the nonsense fluff, the romance, the comedy. The now post-finale adult stuff with kids.

But I want to talk about some stuff that I think could be harmful and a mockery to the LGBTQIA+ community.

NOTE: I do NOT think Mark did these intentionally. I think it is both being uniformed, burnt out out, and jsut trying to pump out comics fast to satisfy the fanbase, so he doesn't have much tiem research.

Either way, onto the first topic/comic I will speak of.

While it is sweet that Mark shows support in Pride month, he did it while basically not only comparing the struggles of the LGBT community to that of 'fighting a cartoon villian' , and that comparing our fight to that of TOH, is as if all we have to do is 'fight an evil guy' to win.

Which is false, and a bad dangerous mindset. As that is the mindset thsoe against us want.

As, if we kill one of the bigots, there will still be other bigots out htere.

It's best to just try to help them understand.

As they aren't doing this "for the sake of being evil" . it's because they are afraid of what don't understand, and are stuck in their old ways are thus a bit stubborn to try to understand.

But there ARE people who are willing to listen.

Not to mention, comparing our struggles to that of defeating a fictional cartoon villian is pure mockery. I'm sorry. The amount of people that die, and get beaten daily and get disowned jsut because they love the opposite gender, or they where born different ect. It's awful. And to compare that to that of defeating a cartoon is jsut infuriating.

Then there's the second topic/comic I want to talk about.

The whole idea that someone could figure out their sexuality/gender from a test especially a 'yes or no' test is just false.

It is a very bad thing to say especially with a following that has a ton of kids and young teens.

You figure your Identity out yourself through research, looking at yourself, looking at past events ect. And sometimes you dont fit right withing a perfect box, because sexualities and genders are very complex!

Only YOU can figure yourself out.

Not a test, not a quiz, no one but YOU.

As I said before, I'm not accusing Mark of anything. I simply think Mark should take a break as I can tell looking at his work from around a year ago that he seems burnt out. I mean Mark, you're cracking out comics EVERY DAY. Take a break.

And please next time ask someone (multiple people if you can) or do your one research before doing stuff on the LGBTQIA+ community. It's far better than going in blind assuming things are true or alright.

You're one of the most impactful member of the community right now, so please be careful.

Take care.

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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

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Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

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randomshyperson · 3 years ago

Text

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 13 - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

My dear friend @abimess, I keep stealing your gifs and making updates without telling you. I hope you never get tired of it.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: Magical torture with minors, cursing, angst, ptsd, derogatory thoughts and behavior, dark magic.

Chapter Words: 8.486 K

A/N> Yes, I've gone for a month without warning anyone, and yes that might go on, but at least i'm near ending this (I'm already writing chapter 21). Once I'm finished, I'll just programe tumblr to upload them all for me because i'm lazy. I hope anyone like this yet, i don't even know what i'm doing anymore. Good reading!

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 13 - Part XIII - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

Gossip really starts to irritate you when you go to lunch after potions.

"You want to say something to me, girl?" You charge impatiently when you hear the giggles behind you again, coming from a group of students sitting at Ravenclaw's table.

The group turns around with wry smiles on their faces, and you notice the editions of the Daily Prophet in the hand of one of the boys. It is Hope Summers, your classmate, who speaks first:

"We're just sharing some theories, Stark." She says in a provocative tone. "Some of us find it an interesting coincidence that just now that Mephisto is back, you and Maximoff are losing control of magic."

You frown.

"What are you talking about?" you ask in surprise, referring to Wanda, but Hope thinks you want her to keep mocking you.

"It's just suspicious that no one knows what happened to you in that dungeon, or at the ministry of magic." Hope counters. "And now you two are blowing things up, and we have a dark wizard on the loose."

"Fuck you, Summmers." You curse as you stand up, leaving the girl in shock at your aggressiveness.

The same auror from the first day stands in front of you as you try to approach Slytherin's table.

"Students must respect..."

But you interrupted his speech with a loud shove that sent him staggering backwards, and drew the immediate attention of several people.

You were seeing red by now, the man's wry smile only making you more irritated.

He drew his wand, but so did you. And the room held its breath.

"Put your wand away, Miss Stark." Warned the auror angrily, but you didn't.

Wanda stood up as she noticed the confusion, rushing to reach you, but the auror put his arm in her way.

"Now, miss." He warned again, and you grunted in irritation.

"Get your hands off her." You retorted, feeling your body fever with hatred.

"Stark." The man said, his arm reaching down to push Wanda back, and you exploded.

You didn't even finish thinking about the spell, the magic exploding out of your wand.

The auror masterfully blocked it, and you dropped your wand to jump on top of him.

It was a confusion of shoving, other bigger students pulling you away from the man and he away from you.

" Never fucking touch her again!" You warned snorting in anger, Thor Odinson stopping you from jumping on the man's neck.

"I just pushed her away from the line of fire, you crazy bitch!" The auror retorted indignantly and angrily. "Go to the headmaster's office now!"

"Fuck you!"

Thor pulled you out of the hall as the crowd of students whistled in celebration, excited about the whole fight. The auror was too busy dissipating everyone to follow you.

"Hey, hothead, calm down." The blonde warned as he released the grip of you by the courtyard. You grunted angrily, wishing you could break something.

"Fuck this school, fuck that asshole." You complained aloud, as Thor looked at you curiously.

"You have quite a rage, Stark." He comments, and you grumble in irritation.

But Wanda catches up with you the next moment, and she looks even angrier than you.

"What the hell was that?" she asks and you roll your eyes, running your hands through your hair.

"I think you are going to be fine for now on." Thor comments, smiling at the thank you Wanda says to him before leaving you two alone.

"So?" Wanda insists, arms crossed. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at her.

"What do you want me to say?" You retort angrily.

"You just started a fight for no reason! Again!" She accuses. "Only this time it was with a wizard who could kill you. I want to know what's going on!"

"I don't know, Wanda!" You exclaim angrily. "Why does everyone expect me to have answers? I don't know! Do you understand that? It feels like I'm going to explode in frustration any second, neither you or Gamora seem to get it. I don't understand what's happening to me!"

"Because you won't talk to us!" She shouts back, just as annoyed as you are. "You're pushing everyone away! Even me! We can't help you if you don't talk to us!"

You grunt impatiently, turning around. There was a strange throbbing in the back of your head, a strange whisper. Like a voice telling you that no one was telling you the truth, that your friends expected too much of you, that Wanda didn't care...

This last thought made you sob. Wanda softened her expression immediately, taking a step toward you and touching your shoulder, but you pulled away from her touch as if burned, wiping your tears away quickly.

"Leave me alone, Wanda." You mutter between teeth. She hesitates, raising her hand toward you again.

"Please."

"I need some time from you." You insist, pushing her hand away, and walking away.

A part of your brain is begging you to go back and make things right, but there is a cloud of anger and irritation that keeps you walking.

//-//-//-//-//

You roll over in bed in discomfort.

Nightmares. Again.

It has only been five days since you had your fight with Wanda, and you are getting worse every day.

With Summers' teasing, you end up noticing other things too.

How the school really found the theory that you and Wanda were somehow related to Mephisto, because the minister had covered up what happened in the dungeons and in the ministry, and everybody thought it was strange that two students were showing an increase in magical potential with the return of a dark wizard.

Unlike you, who were failing considerably in any simple execution of spells, Wanda was demonstrating exceptional abilities. Kaecilius was more than willing to make her the face of progress at Hogwarts, you heard the gossip about bringing in reporters to share the news of the new direction.

You know that the only reason Wanda hasn't come after you yet was because you're running away from her like the plague.

And you couldn't even explain why.

You were also blocking out your real health condition from her. Just like you two practiced during the summer.

Besides hiding this from Wanda, you have kept your friends away too, isolating yourself from everyone else in search of a little rest, only succeeding in taking a nap when you are running away between classes.

And the detentions with Kaecilius keep increasing as you skip classes.

You begin to consider learning to write with a different hand, just so the bruise has time to heal, but at this point you don't even care about the scar anymore.

"You really must like pain." Loki teases wryly as you sit in an empty room, waiting for the aurors' shift change again after your detention.

You don't ask him what he's doing on that floor again, and he doesn't ask why you haven't spoken to your friends in two weeks.

"Sure, that must be it." You joke back, massaging your injured hand.

He assumes a pensive expression for a second.

"Are you sure you haven't been cursed by someone?" He asks, causing you to frown in shock and confusion.

"Excuse me?"

He gives a little chuckle, settling himself better against the wall.

"Everyone's been talking about you being sick." He says. "I heard some of the Ravenclaw people theorize that you became a werewolf over the summer."

You laugh helplessly, massaging your temples lightly.

"I guarantee that's not it." You say making Loki smile.

"If you are sick for no reason, it could be a curse." He says. "I wouldn't be surprised, the way things are."

"But how do I find out if I've been cursed?"

Loki takes a thoughtful stance.

"I don't know." He says. "But I'm sure you can learn that in the no longer reserved session of the library."

You laugh at the joke, but soon you both return to silence. When that hallway's shift ends, Loki sighs, getting up and helping you to stand.

"Still can't perform spells?" He asks, already drawing his wand.

"Only if I want to blow things up." You scoff making him laugh.

"Fine, I'll enchant you." He says. When you are transparent, he looks at you with an amused expression. "See you next Saturday, troublemaker?

"Don't worry, I plan on skipping DADA, maybe I'll be here tomorrow." You retort in the same tone before turning to leave.

//-////-//-//-//-//

It takes three more days for Wanda to finally corner you.

You are skipping class in an empty room on the seventh floor, trying to doze off, and almost fall out of your chair with fright when the door opens and Wanda comes in, looking annoyed.

You grunt impatiently, without lifting your face from the desk.

"I told you I needed time." You complain, but tense up when you notice the tears in her eyes as she moves closer to sit at the table next to yours.

" You want to break up with me?" She asks in a whisper and you raise your head immediately, feeling your chest tighten.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Wanda gives a humorless laugh at your expression. "Why are you acting like this is an absurd idea? You've disappeared. You've been avoiding me, not even talking to me anymore."

You shake your head quickly, feeling the urge to cry.

"I don't want to break up with you." You say. "I..I would never want to be away from you."

"You just said you need time away from me." Wanda retorts with annoyance, and you feel your stomach clench as she sighs. "I don't know what's going on with us. And I miss you, but you won't let me near you."

You are exhausted. So you cry.

You rest your head on your arms, and let your sobs fill the silence, hoping that the tears will take this bad feeling away.

It's Wanda's gentle touch on your back that helps.

"Babe, tell me what's wrong." She whispers to you, her tone concerned.

It takes many minutes for you to calm down. But when you do, Wanda holds your hand, kneeling on the floor beside the chair you are in.

"I can't do magic." You breathlessly tell her from crying, "And I can't sleep. I've been sick for weeks, and I'm angry all the time. Healer Cho doesn't know what's wrong with me, but everyone at school seems to have a theory about it. I think I'm going to suffocate, Wanda. I'm messing everything up. Between us, between my family, and at school." You sob as you finish and Wanda shakes her head, her hand coming up to your cheek.

"Don't say that." She urges. "You didn't ruin anything. Hey, look at me. I love you. Your sisters love you, your friends love you. We'll figure out what's going on."

Wanda hugs you tight, and you sob, shaking.

You want to believe her words, so you push the intrusive thoughts away, and believe it.

//-//-//-//

Wanda takes you to a door in that same floor you two were before, but you have never seen that door until that moment.

And you are very surprised to realize that it is a bedroom.

"How...?" You ask confused as she closes the it.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement." She says with a smile, pulling you by the hand around. "We hold our Avengers meetings here." She counters and you frown.

"In a bedroom? Interesting choice." You comment and she giggles.

"No, my love." She says. "That's how this room works. It is charmed to meet your needs. That's why I asked you to come in first."

"Oh, that's pretty cool." You say looking around. Wanda smiles at you, and then you both reach the bed. "The room thinks I have to sleep?"

"I do too." Wanda retorts, pushing your shoulders gently for you to sit on the bed. "Go on, nice dreams."

You hesitate. "You gonna leave me here alone?"

Wanda denies with her head, pointing to the chair that probably just magically appeared next to the bed. You frown.

"Can't you sleep in the bed with me?"

She giggles. "We don't have much time for you to sleep. If I lie down, you'll want to kiss me. So I'll be sitting in that armchair, studying as I should." She explains seriously, and you pout.

"Stupid rules." You grumble moving your hands up to her waist. "Lie down with me."

"Babe..."

"Please."

Wanda sighs, then nods. You smile, quickly removing your shoes as she does the same. You quickly adjust yourself on the bed, opening your arms for her to lie on top of you, and she gives a little giggle before doing so.

"Are you cozy, sweetheart?" You murmur against her hair, and Wanda squeezes her arms around you.

"Yeah, your boobs are good pillows." She teases, making you laugh with reddened cheeks.

Your eyes begin to heavy quickly, fatigue catching up with your body relaxed by the comfort of the moment.

"Go to sleep, babe." Wanda whispers. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You smile with your eyes closed, surrendering.

It's the best sleep you've had in weeks.

The problem is that as soon as you start to wake up again, you are feeling sick.

You touch the emptiness in the bed, mumbling softly. When you open your eyes you find Wanda sitting in the armchair, the darkhold in her lap.

"Damn it, Wanda, this book again." You complain in a hoarse voice, but she just sighs.

"Why the attitude?"

"I hate that book." You grumble sitting up in bed, massaging your face lightly. "Why do you keep reading it anyway?"

"It's interesting." She says, closing the item to look at you. "Agatha really told me a lot, but there are also things I didn't know."

"For example?"

Wanda bites her lips, appraising you.

"Scarlet witches are forged, for instance." She says and you frown in confusion. Wanda sighs. "Many powerful witches, born scarlet witches, never got to fulfill their destiny because the forging didn't happen."

You straighten your clothes uncomfortably, pensively.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"What the headmistress did last year was my forging." She clarifies and you swallow dryly, feeling your stomach turn. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you ask confused.

"Everything." She says upset. "I know we've talked about this, but it seems like all I do is cause you problems. With the bond, and with the forge. If Agatha didn't want my powers, she wouldn't have taken you to the dungeon and you wouldn't have suffered."

You poke at the knot of your tie, feeling yourself suffocate slightly. Wanda is speaking, you blink to focus on her words.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?" You ask out of breath, sweating. You blink to find Wanda's concerned gaze on you.

"Babe, what's wrong?" She asks worriedly, her hands around your face.

You feel your head spin, and everything goes dark before you can answer.

//-//-//-//

You smell the scent of grass when you wake up.

Then you blink in confusion, getting used to your surroundings to realize that you are in what looks like a ward bed.

"Hey, all right, take it easy getting up, Miss Stark." Asked Professor Strange with one hand on her shoulder. In the other he held a potion that you imagined he had given you.

"W-what happened?" you mumbled confusedly, sitting up in bed. Only now did you notice Professor Munroe and Wanda standing in front of the bed, both with worried expressions.

"You passed out, but you're better now I imagine." Stephen explained gently, but you were still feeling very weak.

"Professor, she simply blacked out." Wanda commented in a tearful voice. " Don't you have any idea what's wrong?"

Stephen sighed, and then pointed at the chair, the darkhold.

"Where did you get that book?" He asked, and Wanda frowned, taking a step toward the chair in a defensive posture.

"What does that have to do with my question?" she retorted dryly, and Stephen looked at you one last time before standing up.

"There's a reason it's called the Book of the Damned, Miss Maximoff." He says."It damns its readers."

"That's ridiculous." Wanda retorted, crossing her arms. "I've been reading it for weeks and nothing has happened."

"Not with you."

Wanda hesitates, widening her eyes. And then she takes a step back, swallowing her cry as she reaches out to grab the book and hand it to Stephen.

She turns her gaze back to you, and lets the tears fall.

"I am truly sorry." She says with a mixture of guilt and shame before turning to leave the room.

You call out to her about three times, but she leaves and you don't have the strength to go after her.

"Damn, couldn't I have said that in a different way?" You complain angrily to Stephen, who just sighs, exchanging a look with Professor Munroe. "How come you two are here anyway?"

"It was Wanda." Professor Ororo replies. "She asked the room for someone trustworthy to help her with you. Then there was a door opening in the potions room. Stephen was there with me, and we both came."

"Great." You mutter annoyed, thinking about how you are going to talk to Wanda and convince her that you were not angry with her. "Would either of you happen to know how to make me better now?"

"Sure." Stephen comments by raising the book in the air, and with a wave of his hand, the item dissolves into several pieces until it is gone. "I didn't destroy it, if that's what you're thinking. I just put it away, to prevent something like that from happening again."

"Congratulations." You grumble wryly as you straighten up in bed, the same migraine from before is now weaker, but it's still there.

"You know, you had a better attitude when you didn't have a magical doom on your spirit." Stephen complains, causing you to frown, but Professor Ororo gives a chuckle.

"Thanks professor." You comment wryly, making him laugh. He sits back down beside your bed, and pulls out of the cover a small notebook.

"Now that Miss Maximoff has stopped reading the book, I suppose you will get better." Stephen says, making you sigh.

"You suppose? That's encouraging." You say moving to stand up.

"Where are you going, Miss Stark? You need to rest." Warn the professor, but you ignore him, and ignore the weakness in your body as well.

"What I need, Strange, is for people to stop lying to me."

"No one is lying, Miss Stark." Professor Ororo states next. "We really don't know the extent of the magic the darkhold carries."

"And why is that I imagine?" You sneer. "Because someone omitted the truth from you, and it's been passed down for generations, isn't it? Well, that's over now. Because we've finally studied everything in this place, including a book that condemns anyone who reads it." You exclaim impatiently, stooping down to put on your shoes. "If you two will excuse me, I'll figure out how to get better on my own. But first I'm going to explain to my girlfriend that none of this is her fault."

Ororo and Stephen are silent, but you wouldn't have been paying attention to anything they said anyway.

Soon you are up and out of the requirement room looking for Wanda.

//-//-//-//

She seems to have disappeared from the castle, so you must concentrate to use your instincts.

The hardest part is dodging the aurors, but you finally reach the astronomy tower.

You're a little out of breath from the run, but it's the image of Wanda standing on the edge, the sunlight in her hair that leaves you breathless.

"Hi." You say in a low tone, your hands in your pockets as you approach. She startles slightly, wiping away tears as she keeps her gaze forward.

"What do you want here?" she asks in a husky voice. You sigh.

"That you stop hating yourself and listen to me." You say and she lets out a short laugh.

"And what do you think you can say?" She questions turning her body toward you. "All I do is hurt you."

You shake your head, but Wanda lets out a tearful laugh.

"No you don't understand." She says. "Since I met you, you have only brought me good things. Affection, happiness, hope. You've been that kind warm feeling that I need on my worst days. Hell, you're even the memory for me to cast a patronus." She confesses with emotion, her face wet with tears. "But me? All I bring you is pain and suffering. And now I even bring sickness. This is wrong, I hurt you. You need to see this, and understand that we can no longer happen."

"Don't say that." You ask, reaching up to touch her face, wipe away her tears. "That's not true, Wanda. I love you, you make me..."

"Stop it." She interrupts with a sob. "Don't make it any harder than it already is."

"Please, Wanda, listen to me." You plead, resting your forehead on hers, your hands on her cheeks. "You make me happy, you are the only thing that makes me happy, I love you, please..."

Wanda kisses you hard, and you respond with the same intensity, both of you gasping into each other's mouths.

But then she is pulling away, thrusting you farther apart.

"I'm sorry." She cries, taking a step back. "We're over."

And she's running away again, and this time you don't go after her.

//-//-//-//-//

Without Darkhold's being consumed, you really start to improve in terms of physical health.

The only problem is the emotional ditch you find yourself in.

Gamora, Nebula and Mantis find you, again in the Room of Requirement, skipping class.

"My god this is worse than last time." Gamora remarks as she looks around at the mess of junk food and pillows. The room had been transformed into a "comfortable place", which basically had the appearance of a living room, with several soft armchairs, and lots of unhealthy food. "Why did you guys break up this time?"

"Please don't talk to me." You grumbled, your voice coming out muffled because you were lying on two soft puffs, your face buried in the pillow, your hand inside a bag of muggles snacks.

"I bet you five bucks they'll be back together before the end of the month." Nebula commented and you sniffled against your pillow, hearing a noise that sounded like Gamora hitting her sister.

"We talked to Wanda." Mantis said. "And with Professor Stephen, too. We're sorry about everything, but have you decided you're not going to study anymore?"

"I don't care about school." You grumble against the pillow. "Leave me alone, I want to cry."

Nebula gives a short laugh, and Gamora elbows her.

"Stop hitting me, you crazy." Nebula complains loudly, moving away from her sister to approach you, taking the bag of snacks you have, and making you complain softly. "And you stop being such a drama queen. Aren't you two like soul mates or some shit? It's just a fight, you'll work it out. You're acting like you've never broken up before."

"Your sensitivity is admirable." Gamora scoffs, pushing her sister away to sit next to you, stroking your back until you look up at her. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You feel the urge to cry arise again. "Wanda thinks she is bad for me." You say. "And she doesn't want to be with me anymore, and I want to die."

You start crying again, stuffing your face into the pillow as Gamora strokes your hair.

"How did this happen anyway?" Nebula asks, confused, chewing on salty snacks."You barely slept at home over the summer to be with her, and now you guys are breaking up. It's hard to keep up with this relationship."

"Merlin, Nebula shut up." Gamora asks impatiently, and her sister raises her hands in surrender with an ironic expression. You want to scream against your pillow, but all you do is try to control your crying.

"You can't keep disappearing, sweetheart." Gamora says as she runs her hands through your hair, trying to calm you down. "Kaecilius has already noticed. He's trying to figure out where you're going, and eventually he'll figure it out since you can't stay here forever."

"Maybe I can." You mumble making Gamora laugh softly.

"Come on, I'm sure you miss a decent meal." She says. "Why don't you join us for lunch?"

"I can't sit at your table."

"Who said anything about a table?"

This is how you end up on the edge of the great lake, at a picnic.

Mantis gets several dishes from the house elves, and since lunch is a free social hour, nobody seems to mind that you are eating outside.

Your sisters are not the only students who, over time, have learned ways around school rules.

You grumble slightly as you feel the sun on your face, but lie back on the grass, closing your eyes.

Your mind wanders back to last summer immediately, the memories of Wanda, and you feel horrible. You just want her back. And then you swallow the urge to cry again to accept the juice Mantis offers you.

"We wanted to tell you that we've found a way to help you, too." Gamora says after a moment, causing you to raise your eyebrow. "About the darkhold, and the eternal damnation thing."

"Light topic." You sneer, throwing your arm over your face. The day is hot. "I appreciate the help, of course."

Gamora giggles. "Merlin, I had forgotten how grumpy you get when you're upset."

"I'm not upset, Gamora." You retort angrily. "I'm frustrated."

"Sexually." Nebula sneers, making you grunt in anger, but Mantis holds back a laugh.

"What's your problem with my feelings lately?" You accuse the girl with irritation.

"Not everything is about you, you know." She retorts and you sit up quickly, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nebula laughs, rolling her eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on." She says. "We're all stressed and scared. And the three of us have been in the same classes as you, having to watch the same things. But you only have time for Wanda. And now you've broken up, again, because there's some mortal danger, again, that she's caused for you. So, I don't know, but maybe she is right to break up. Ever since you guys started dating everything has been about her, and the trouble she causes!"

"Fuck you, Nebula!" You exclaim angrily, advancing against the girl in front of you. Gamora and Mantis quickly separate you.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Gamora shoves you. "Were you really going to hit her?"

"Fuck this." You curse angrily, taking a step away. "I didn't ask any of you to come after me. I don't need you. I just need Wanda. Fucking leave me alone."

You turn back to the castle, cursing the wild on your way.

//-//-//-//

Loki is the only friend you have now.

You wouldn't call him a friend exactly.

Kaecilius has put you in detention for three days a week, including Saturday, but mostly you just clean the castle. But when he takes you to the seventh floor, and makes you scrape sentences against your own skin, you don't worry about being alone anymore, because Loki is always on that floor.

It takes a week for you to tell him about the requirement room.

" You could have mentioned it earlier, we would have stuck around here." He comments without sounding upset.

Soon it doesn't take long for you two to start seeing each other even when you're not in detention.

You are not surprised that Loki also skips classes, he has always been quite mischievous, but the reason is different from yours.

He knew dark magic. Much more than you or your classmates. And he has no interest in practicing it in class.

"It's stupid." He comments as you are sitting in the armchairs. "Most people will never have the courage or willpower to cast a death curse. It's useless to learn."

"Is that the only reason you don't agree with the teaching at Hogwarts now?" You ask in surprise, setting up the chessboard for yourself as Loki shrugs his shoulders.

"I feel like you're judging me, Hufflepuff." He sneers but you smile, rolling your eyes.

"Honestly, I don't give a damn."

And you really didn't care.

Wanda was avoiding you in the halls, and you were doing the same with your friends and family.

When Iron delivered the mail to the Slytherin table, including Nebula's birthday presents, you wanted to throw up, but all you did was walk away from the Hufflepuff table toward the requirement room.

Without the darkhold, you didn't feel sick, but the anger didn't go away.

Your magic hadn't stabilized, and you were failing at everything, but you couldn't bring yourself to worry about it.

Erik wrote to you, commenting on the importance of you and Wanda practicing magical balancing together, and you burned the letter while crying on the carpet.

And at this rate, time went by.

It was almost the middle of the school year when things started to take a turn for the worse at Hogwarts, and in the wizarding war as well.

Mephisto is getting stronger, and the order is losing. And Kaecillius must be under some pressure from the ministry, maybe for answers from organizations like the Avengers, which are forbidden, because his detentions get too horrible.

It is Saturday again, and you drag yourself to the room where you are supposed to fulfill your detention, but unlike the other days, Kaecillius locks the door.

You only notice because he seems tense and distracted, and there is no feather or book.

"Professor, what will my punishment be today?" You ask confused, and he is nodding to the center of the room as he stands in front of the desk, a few feet from you.

"Miss Stark, today I want to ask some questions and I expect honesty." He declines as he turns to you.

You hiss softly, putting your hands in your pockets.

"Shoot."

Kaecillius doesn't even mind your lack of formality, looking at you with an impassive face.

"What is Mephisto's location?"

You choke in surprise and disbelief. "Excuse me? Why do you think I know that?"

"The ministry has reason enough to suspect that the Order of the Avengers is nothing more than a cover for the death walkers.Your brother, whom I had suspected of being part of that order of delinquents, is no longer at Hogwarts, but you will have to serve." He speaks and with each word you become more outraged. "Now answer me, where is Mephisto?"

" Did you just fucking call my brother a delinquent?" You mutter incredulously. "I have no idea where Mephisto is, what's your problem?"

But you widen your eyes when the professor draws his wand, and you barely have time to swallow dry before the spell hits you in the chest.

It's the cruciatus curse. You know the second it hits you. The sharp pain fills every cell in your body and you scream, not having the strength to stand or with your eyes open, hugging yourself.

"We must not tell lies, Miss Stark." Kaecillius says as soon as he stops enchanting you, the pain disappears in the same instant, but you continue to tremble.

In complete shock and fear, you sob.

"I will ask you again, where is Mephisto?"

You let the tears flow, and shake your head. "I don't know, professor."

Kaecillius lets out a sigh of disappointment. "Some cases are more difficult than others." He comments somberly, taking a step toward her. "Did you know that the record for enduring the Cruciatus curse before madness is six hours? Incredible, isn't it? It happened during the first war, with a muggleborn. You're a half-blood, maybe you can take longer"

He has a devilish grin as he finishes, and you clench your jaw at the threat.

"I don't know where Mephisto is." You repeat, but the professor points his wand at you again.

"My bet is seven hours."

And then the pain returns.

You don't know how long you stay in that room.

But it is long enough for your consciousness to begin to fade. The pain gets so severe that it gradually fades away. You begin to gasp breathlessly, not even able to scream anymore.

Someone help me. Please, help me. Help me. Wanda.

Between the tears you see the floor of the room, and between a twinge of pain, a red light. And everything is dark again.

//-//-//

“Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Warcraft and Wizard is arrested in flagrant by aurors from the ministry of magic this week, full coverage on page..."

You blink confusedly, your eyes getting used to the clarity, while the headline of the Daily Prophet was the first thing your vision caught.

And then you shifted in bed, realizing that you were in a hospital room , and whoever was reading next to you put the paper down when they heard you, and you could behold the curious look on your brother's face.

"Tony?" you whispered confused, and he smiled as he stood up quickly, the newspaper forgotten on the armchair.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked as his hand reached for the loose strands of hair on your face and put them back. "You scared the hell out of me."

"What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

You thought, and then sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Kaecilius."

Tony bit his lip nervously before speaking.

"I'm sorry." He said, lowering his hand to his own. "I came here as soon as I got the howler from Professor Strange, but honestly, I didn't even need it, because all the newspapers are talking about it."

"What...?" You started in confusion, but Tony hurried to explain.

"Wanda found you, Y/N." He told. "She, well, wasn't exactly happy about the whole thing. I think she lost control. Kaecilius is lucky to be alive if you ask me. She almost destroyed the seventh floor, it was a huge mess. And then the aurors interfered, and soon there were reporters everywhere. I guess now everyone knows she's a scarlet witch."

You widened your eyes, straightening to sit up and grumbling a little in pain. Tony looked at you with concern, asking you to take it easy, but you were already asking about Wanda.

"She's at the ministry of magic." He clarified. "Kaecilius is going on trial for torturing a student, and she will answer for putting everyone in danger."

" What?" you ask incredulously, and Tony sighs.

"Yeah I know it's unfair." He says. "But the minister of magic seems to be looking everywhere for people to blame for his lack of control. The problem is how much of that information will get to Mephisto. The whole ministry seems to be full of walkers."

You ran your hand across your face, frustrated.

"I'm so tired, Tony." You confess in a whisper. "It feels like everything is falling apart around me, and things are only getting worse."

Tony squeezes your hand. "I'm sorry, I really am. This whole situation sucks, and I wanted to help you. I'm trying, sister. I haven't been talking to you as much as I should, but I didn't want you to think you're alone. I'm working on breaking the bond. To free you and Wanda from the prophecy, and the wizarding world from dangers like Mephisto. I'm sorry I haven't been by your side."

You swallow your cry, and nod, trying to smile at Tony. He reaches up to hug you, and you gasp softly, taking a few seconds to relax and let the tears flow.

When you calm down, Tony tells you that he is going to get a Mediwizards to check your situation.

You lie down again, sighing softly. The memories come back with full force, and you choke softly, feeling your body tremble.

It's as if you can feel the curse again, sense the pain on your skin. Opening your eyes and shaking the memories away, you swallow dryly and reach for the glass of water on the nightstand.

You just want Wanda by your side telling you that everything is going to be okay.

//-//-//-//-//

You stay under observation for two days.

Doctor Hank makes a joke about you enjoying St.Mungus more than you should since you keep coming back, but Tony doesn't laugh.

Then you' re going back to Hogwarts by train, because the doctor thinks you shouldn't use magical means of transportation for a few days, and it's weird to take the empty express, but as soon as you arrive at the station, Gamora and Nebula are waiting for you with boxes of candy bought in Hogsmeade, and tight hugs.

You are not surprised by the stares you receive from the other students, but you ignore them as your sisters escort you around the castle to the Hufflepuff communal hall.

"Did you get to talk to Wanda?" Gamora asks as soon as you sit down on your bed, sighing with exhaustion from the train ride. The mention of the other sorceress' name doesn't help.

"Not yet." You say. "And I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she's ignoring me."

Nebula exchanges a look with her sister before sitting down on Mantis' bed, who is hugging her knees and looking at you.

"Honestly, I just want to finish this year without any more problems." You confess as you take off your jacket. And there is a moment of silence before you swallow dryly. "I also wanted to apologize to you guys."

Gamora frowns slightly, but says nothing. You take a deep breath.

"I know I was under the influence of an evil book, but that was still no excuse for treating you guys like that." You begin. "Tony told me about how things are in the wizarding world. Everyone is going through something, and it was selfish of me to think that only my problems matter. I'm sorry."

"Really, Y/N, it's okay." Nebula says, surprising you a bit. "We were all stressed, and well, I think an evil book is a pretty fair excuse." She jokes, making you smile. "Maybe things will get a little better now that Strange is the director."

"Oh, that's right" You comment just then remembering the things Tony updated you on while you were at St.Mungus. Like Kaecillius' resignation, and the position being passed on to Professor Stephen. "But honestly, I won't be at peace until I hear from Wanda."

"The trial isn't until Friday. And the way things are going, we won't get any news until it's over." Gamora warned as she sat down on the bed next to you. "I think the Maximoffs are probably too busy to write."

"What do you think will happen to Wanda?" You ask as you tug at the loose strands of the comforter. Mantis sighs lightly.

"I don't have a good feeling about things, Y/N." She confesses and you frown in concern. "And the stars never lie."

"Thank you, Mantis." You mock softly, and Gamora runs her hands through her hair.

"Let's not be pessimistic, okay?" she says. "Maybe the predictions are about, I don't know, the school finals? It doesn't mean something bad is really going to happen."

You grumble unhappily, grabbing a pillow and sinking your face into it. Gamora strokes your back.

"I'm sure things will work out, Y/N." She says. "Wanda will write as soon as she can."

"Do you guys think Kaecilius will be sent to Azkaban?" Nebula asks next, making you raise your head curiously.

"I wouldn't be so sure." You grumble. "I was actually surprised that he was put on trial at all."

"Well, with the whole mess that happened, it was bound to happen." Gamora said. "More than half the school became aware that he used the cruciatus curse on you, and then the daily prophet. And I didn't even know they were in the castle."

"It was because of Wanda really, wasn't it?" Mantis added. "Kaecillius caused his own ruin. He called the journalists to show what he called progress and decided to torture a student while they were in the castle. Then Wanda destroyed the entire floor and the next morning his arrest was all over the pages."

"I'm just really outraged to know that if no one had seen it, he would probably still be at Hogwarts." Gamora says angrily, and you sigh, agreeing as well as the others.

"Well, you must be hungry, shall we go to the great hall? It's almost dinner time." Gamora comments next, pulling you by the hand. You grumble softly, but agree, and soon you are leaving the communal hall to join the rest of the students.

//-//-//-//-//

You are tapping your fingers gently against the desk as you wait for the History of Magic class to begin.

It is Friday, finally.

You have barely slept because of anxiety about news of Wanda's trial.

Things at Hogwarts have changed a lot this week, all because of Strange's administration.

He restored the old classes, banned the teaching of dark magic, the scandal at the Daily Prophet being enough of an argument that the Minister of Magic no longer had a defense over this kind of teaching at Hogwarts. The restricted session of the library was also put back, and the seventh floor was off-limits because of the destruction Wanda caused, and you unfortunately lost access to the Requirement room.

Mantis was writing what looked like a lunar calendar for the divination class while Professor Okoye didn't arrive, and you started whistling distractedly.

And then Thor Odinson was poking you in the back to get your attention, and you turned around in your chair.

"Hi, Stark, what's up?"

"Fine." You grumbled suspiciously. "Can I help you with something?"

Thor looked almost unsure. "I was just wondering if you know of anything going on with Loki."

You frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I mean if you know if he's sick or something." He explains. "We had a fight, and well, he's not talking to me. And I've noticed that you guys have been kind of close lately, and I was curious if you knew anything and..."

"No, Thor, I'm sorry." You interrupt with a sigh. "Maybe you should ask him that."

Thor assumes a sad expression. "I would, but he's ignoring me. I think it might be about our mother."

You make a confused expression, and Thor looks surprised.

"Our mother, she...died earlier this year, Y/N." Thor counters, and you widen your eyes. "Our family is a name of reference against Mephisto. With the war, the walkers came to our home. She was there while we were here, and Dad was at the ministry."

"I'm so sorry, Thor." You whisper to him, still shocked by the information. He shrugged.

"I thought Loki told you."

"We don't talk about things like that, I guess." You say. "Sorry, I wish I knew how to help you."

"No, it's okay." Thor says with a sad smile. "You being his friend this year is more than enough. I don't like seeing him all alone out here."

You nod lightly, settling into your chair as you notice the teacher entering the room.

Mantis exchanges a look of understanding with you, having overheard the conversation even if accidentally, but she says nothing, and soon you are hearing about the witch hunt in the United States, and you try to focus on that rather than curiosity about how Wanda's trial is going or Loki's current emotional state.

//-//-/-//-//-//

As soon as lunchtime begins, you join the Slytherin table, where some of the students have placed a radio on the table, equally with other students from the other houses, to listen to the trial.

You are not surprised that a student's trial is such an interesting topic for everyone, but after the school started talking about Wanda being a scarlet witch, and the theories circulating around the halls, it was to be expected.

So you sit back while biting your fingertips and listening.

"And now directly from the Ministry of Magic, the trial of seventeen-year-old witch Wanda Maximoff, daughter of legendary witch Erik L-"

Your attention is slightly diverted from the narrative when loud laughter catches your ears.

They are Gryffindor and Slytherin students, exchanging coins. You don't need to hear the conversation to know they are gambling about the trial, the mean laughter and glances in the direction of you and your sisters are enough.

And as if she could feel your growing fury, Gamora touches your shoulder gently.

"Just ignore them, Y/N." She urges and you clench your jaw. " Everything is going to be okay with Wanda."

"I hope you're right, Gamora." You grumble, turning your attention back to the radio.

The narration of the newspaper is generic, and you discover that the audience has been closed off to the reporters.

You take a deep breath, concentrating.

No strange feeling, so Wanda is safe.

You wonder if Erik and Pietro are by her side during the whole thing.

It is only at the end of lunchtime that you have the result.

"It's amazing how things unfold in the ministry this afternoon." Counted the reporter with almost excitement. "After a unanimous vote, the witch Wanda Maximoff was found guilty of endangering her fellow students by not registering as a scarlet witch to the ministry of magic, after it was proven that her father, the sorcerer Erik Lehnsherr knew of her condition, as well as the affiliation with the criminal, Agatha Harkness was also mentioned. The ministry finally decided on Wanda Maximoff's expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding"

You felt your stomach plummet.

And everything became a little muffled around you, a soft whistle in your ear. You think Gamora and Nebula were calling for you, but you were getting up, feeling the room getting too small.

Stumbling out, you loosened the knot of your tie, finally stopping in the courtyard as you leaned your body against a pillar.

Wanda had been expelled from Hogwarts, publicly exposed as a Scarlet Witch, and tried as a criminal. You wondered if they would break her wand. Banned wizards led horrible lives.

Your sisters and friends caught up with you quickly, and you let them hug you.

In a few minutes Director Strange is catching up with you as well, and you release Gamora's grip to talk to him.

"Professor, I need to..."

"You cannot leave Hogwarts, Miss Stark." He interrupts with a wave of his hands and you frown in confusion, ready to protest but he is already speaking. "Tony sent a patronus as soon as the results came out, he already figured you'd want to see Miss Maximoff. The ministry is a mess, and Wanda will be staying with her father there for the minister's final decisions. You should stay here, where you are safe."

"That's not fair!" You squawk angrily. "Wanda needs me, I must-"

"She needs you to be safe." He interrupts again seriously, and then lowers his tone slightly as he notices the curious looks of the surrounding students. "Be rational, Miss Stark. Now that the Wizarding community knows the nature of Wanda's powers, how long before Mephisto has enough information and discovers your identity as protector."

You swallow dryly, clenching your fists begrudgingly. Stephen is right. You look away, and he sighs, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Wanda will be fine, even without her NEWTS, she is an extraordinary witch." He says. "And the year is coming to an end, soon you will be able to see her again."

"She needs me now." You grumble annoyed, turning away from the professor's touch. He looks at you for a moment and then clears his throat.

"I'll see what I can do, Miss Stark." He says."In the meantime, focus on your studies, and be careful."

You frown at Stephen's words, but he is already turning and leaving before you can ask.

As you turn to your friends, Gamora has a worried look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asks, and you sigh, agreeing to hug her again as you mumble no.

"I can feel how upset she is, Gamora." You grumble against your sister's shirt, wishing you could hug Wanda now. Gamora squeezes you against her arms, and you thank her for her intention even if it isn't enough.

The next few days are like a blur for you.

Many letters arrive, as do many editions of the Daily Prophet.

When the picture of the day Wanda's wand was broken comes out on the front page and you see her tired face, you have to run out of the common room to keep from crying in front of your colleagues.

Everyone writes to you, even Carol, everyone but the Maximoffs.

It is frustrating, and honestly, it breaks your heart in many ways.

The news of a Scarlet Witch after a century is almost as bombastic as Mephisto's return, and you're not surprised that many of your colleagues would start to comment on the possibility of Wanda working with him or against him.

It's overwhelming how everyone talks about her, but all you can feel is how much you miss her around the castle, around you.

You couldn't even remember that your magic is stable, and with everything that has happened, you haven't had time to figure out how to fix things.

Stephen tried to help, but he didn't know what was going on. At least the theoretical part of magic you were able to master, and you hoped to get at least an acceptable score in some subjects.

Only almost a week and a half after the trial, Professor Strange interrupts the potions class to talk to you.

Ignoring the curious stares and whispers of your classmates, you ask Professor Munroe to excuse you, and leave the room.

"What is wrong, professor?" You ask curiously as you close the door, watching Stephen with his hands in his pockets.The dungeons feel emptier without the ministry aurors around the castle.

"Saturday, in the Astronomy tower, nine-thirteen at night." He says as he hands you a small gold key, causing you to frown in confusion. "You will have exactly one hour, Miss Stark. Not a second more."

You stare at the object in your hand, and understand. A portal key. To Wanda.

"Thank you, Professor." You say, and Stephen nods before leaving.

You turn back to potions, the object in your pocket. You could barely contain your anxiety.

//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @tiny--freak || @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

A/F/N> Place your bets for my next comeback (a week, a month or tomorrow?). If I delete the blog, and you're in love with this story for some reason I don't know about because there are so many better things to read, know that I'll post everything on AO3 if I ever do.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #scarlet witch x reader #marvel imagines #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy #elizabeth olsen x reader #harry potter au

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callgespenst · 2 years ago

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My Ohayocon 2k23 Writeup

Every time I go to a con and I think “wow, so much happened, that was fun” and then it all blends together with every other con I’ve ever been to after a few weeks. This will be the first of hopefully many convention diaries/life updates so I can look back in a few years and -not- wonder where the time has gone.

THURSDAY: while the con had events (mostly badge pickup, really) on Thursday, we elected to skip out to go see the Reincarnated as a Slime movie before the weekend really got started. Good movie! Got cash out for the con and some last minute supplies (more E6000 glue for my boot covers).

FRIDAY: My wife and I both had to work in the morning but as soon as that was done we got our costumes on and got out the door! I wore my Paptimus Scirocco cosplay, which I haven’t taken the chance to do since ANYC 2019. (There haven’t been a whole lot of anime cons since then, or at least, not ones I’ve felt safe going to). Got in, bought our badges at the door (almost glad we didn’t pre-reg, the line for that was much longer) and went straight to the dealer’s room. Ran into a few friends, went to our long time favorite vendors of Otaku Joseph and Megaroad, and didn’t actually spend a whole lot of money because our collections are already massive and out of control. I got a lot of small stuff (my last daily photo) going through some dealer’s bins and chatted with a guy who was also looking through for cool robots. After that was dinner with friends at the local pizzeria, and a panel, and then we left early.

THE PANEL: Went to a guest panel for Shin Kurokawa, who worked on the AnimEigo Macross release in the early aughts. I’ve learned a lot about early anime fan culture (exchanging raw VHS tapes, some of the first cons, etc), but never really heard anything about working from an official perspective at that point, so that was fascinating. Used to be a lot harder to make DVDs, that’s for damn sure. Kurokawa revealed that the release of the DVD set got pushed up, after being delayed for a while, because 9/11 happened, a lot of people cancelled their preorders, and they wanted to cut their losses. So then someone at the end of the panel, starts to ask “So, if 9/11 hadn’t happened...” and everyone starts laughing because, what a way to open a question about anime.

SATURDAY: Our friend Koji came up for the day so a lot of our Saturday was showing them around the dealer’s hall, artist’s alley, and taking photos (I was Gamlin on Saturday, and my wife was dressed as Nekki Basara all weekend). We got lunch at North Market during the only lull in the ramen place’s line, and managed to show Koji around and have a good time. Took those two back early and then went back to the con center on my own.

KARAOKE: Fumbled my way through Totsugeki Love Heart, I usually do a lot better but I felt weirdly self-conscious at the time. The funny part was before karaoke, when we were sitting outside the room in line. The hosts were doing a sound test, and it sounded suspiciously like “The Borderline” by Sharon Apple. So I turn to my buddy next to me in line and say “Hey, isn’t that The Borderline?” and he says “I don’t think it is”. So I go up and open the door just to confirm, and I was right! And in my con-powered enthusiasm I turn around and shout “IT -IS- THE BORDERLINE, FUCK YOU ANTHONY!” to the confusion of most of the other people around us.

SATURDAY EVENING: Went to go get pizza again with a slightly different group of friends. Met a Quattro cosplayer who seemed pretty cool. Ended up sitting around for three or four hours just bullshitting, which is always good. Got tired and left just before midnight.

SUNDAY: Designated Mahjong Day. Most of the rest of my usual group didn’t show up until one, so I played some DDR (did awful) and some Initial D (did alright). I think that was the exact motivation I needed to get back into playing DDR more seriously, accidentally put on a ten-footer (on basic mode!) and got most of the way through it even though it wasn’t a song I was familiar with. Just gotta build my stamina back up. Then I helped with a mahjong teaching session, which was a nice confidence booster, I felt like I was doing pretty well with three players who were mostly unfamiliar with the game. We had -both- genders of Americans interested in riichi mahjong, “played it via Yakuza”, and “played it via FFXIV”. The game room closed early due to snow, and then we went home.

OTHER HIGHLIGHTS: the literal, honest to god barbershop quartet that was there on Sunday. I don’t think they were there as attendees, they just went to entertain a crowd, and they were pretty damn good. Their group name was “The Fourskins”, and you can “follow them on nowhere”.

All in all, I had a great convention! No drama, no bullshit. Fewer of the lads made it this year than usual, but those who did come, I got to have a good time with, which is what counts. For my next convention I really need to submit some panels, cons don’t quite feel right without them.

#gespenst updates

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darthwheezely · 4 years ago

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grande - g.w.

Summary: George meets a mighty adorable barista in the new cafe on Diagon Alley and the man just can’t help himself... based off the song Coffee Girl by Johnny Socko! Sorry this took me absolute ages (9 days oops) to get out, guys :/

Warnings: DIABETIC FLUFF STUPID AMOUNTS OF CARDIAC ARREST INDUCING FLUFF UWU,mentions of sexism, Fred being Fred, cussing probably, alludes to sex, PG/PG-13

taglist or people that might like this but idk: @theweasleyslut @kitwalker02 @loony-loopy-lupinn @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @thehufflepuffwife @monoscandal @lupinsclassroom @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @rogueweasleys @band--psycho @lumosandnoxwriting @oh-for-merlins-sake @amxrtentias @virgohufflepuff @vivianweasley

George Weasley didn’t sleep. This had long been the habit of his ever since he and his parents had discovered that his elder twin Fred had been an avid sleepwalker by age 4, then became a (minor) party animal in his Hogwarts days, and finally when he became the co-owner of one of the Wizard World’s most successful entrepreneurs and business owners.

The man hadn’t slept in about 18 years give or take. And days like this reminded him of it constantly.

It was a Saturday, the first of the month, and to boot, it was about to be Christmas in a little over a week. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was packed with everyone from couples window shopping, children in desperate need of fun now that school was out, parents trying to keep them in line, and even some old lady named Ethel (who swore she was part Veela, and therefore Fred couldn’t “escape her girlish charm.”)

“Ethel, you have an absolutely ravishing day, and don’t even worry about that moisturizer it’d be a waste of product on a natural beauty like you” Fred winked and kissed the old lady’s hand, George watching from the top of the steps rolling his eyes.

“Oh, Freddie, you know how to keep a lady young, don’t you? Oh - goodbye, Georgie! Have a good rest of your day boys!” She waved majestically to the younger twin on the stairs and he bowed royally in response.

“Bye, Ethel!” They both called as she exited the building, the bells flurrying in her wake.

“Georgie, mate, hate to say it but you are being uncharacteristically quiet and it’s making me uncharacteristically uncomfortable.” Fred said bounding up the stairs to meet him, chuckling briefly.

“Freddie, mate, hate to say it but I’ve had absolutely no sleep as of late and it’s getting to me. But I’ll be back up to my usual antics in no time.” He padded down the stairs, winking at a couple young ladies ogling him, sending them into a fit of giggles. Fred sat down on the middle step eyeing his brother carefully. It didn’t take a genius to see George wasn’t holding on much longer, the dark circles littering his eyes and the way he mussed up his already purposely messy hair just...didn’t comfort his older twin at all.

“George.” Fred sighed, George looking back at him, confused. He took his hands away from the merchandise Wonder Witch he’d been rearranging and gave him full attention.

“Take your lunch break early. And longer if possible.”

“Pffft, why would I do that when I have women to woo and boxes to juggle?”

“George.”

“Fred.”

“Stop, I mean it. You look half dead as it is, just go take a nap or get an espresso from the cafe down the aisle or something that reinforces the idea that yes, you are a human being and no, not a zombie.” Fred crossed his arms feeling suddenly a lot like Molly and dropped the cross. George pretended to ponder this tapping his chin, rather finding the mature brother role reversal funny as hell.

“Oh, alright, but can I still be a zombie when I get back?”

Fred hit him with a folder and sent him on his way.

-•-•-

You had just finished the lunch rush, finally being able to calm down and not have to worry about making one more goddamn Butterbeer Latte for at least another 20 or so minutes...until there’d be another rush. You grabbed a lemon scone, took off your apron and sat against the back counter. You inhaled the citrus scent, it was always something that you loved to savor, and took a bite.

The holidays for the Merlin’s Mochas, the cafe, had been absolutely atrocious so far. All you had for customers were angry businessmen, bratty kids and their upper class parents who let them run around the already small place being rude to everyone, your boss Lionel who had an affinity for calling every woman who worked there a “bitch” (...ok lionel) and to top it all off: you’d been pulling 9 hour days every day except sundays. Needless to say: you kind of super hated your job.

You had just finished your scone when you heard the door chime signal a customer, immediately wiping your hands on your jeans and restrapping your apron.

“Hi how can I-“ oh Jesus this is the hottest man I have ever seen. He was easily no older than 23, fiery red hair, a perfectly tailored striped terracotta suit, green tie, and the most gorgeous doe brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“How can you...?”

“Help you, ohmygod, I am so sorry I’m super-“

“Tired? Yeah me too...interesting how similar we are this early in the game hmm?” He winked at you and your knees felt too weak. No he was just a stupid hot customer that also was really hot and also? Was super hot. No worries, Y/N, just don’t die by 22 okay thanks.

“Very funny...wait are you-“ your finger led from him to the statue outside Wizard Wheezes, realizing a simple oh shit

“Yeah, that would be me. Or my twin Fred but we never really decided, that’s why he kind of looks like both of us mixed. Although we’re twins so we basically look the same anyway. I mean because were identical. Twins, yeah.” George, what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you sweating? She’s just a simply beautiful girl in a simply maddeningly purple coffee shop can you please breathe and not make yourself look stupid-

“Oh, wow! I’ve never met a twin before - not like twins are anomalies or anything it’s just so crazy. Science. Science is crazy” You closed your eyes and took a breath

“We should probably start over shouldn’t we?” You wrinkled your nose.

“That sounds much more redeeming than anything we both were about to say” George breathed out laughing softly, rubbing his hand through his hair.

“I’m George. Weasley. Like I said, I work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, the shop over there, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place before...or you for that matter, I never forget a beautiful young woman.” He said smoothly, his heart steadily subsiding - something about you had the power to not only make him scared out of his mind, but also totally at ease.

You returned the smile, warmly, the blood rushing to your cheeks at his compliment and sticking your tongue to your teeth. “Well, George Weasley, of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes I’m Y/N Y/L/N. And yeah, we’re new around here,” you leaned further onto the counter, realizing, albeit a moment too late that your eye level was directly with his abs now, and although he was wearing a suit...you could definitely tell they were there.

“We erm, just opened three months ago. It’s honestly a bit of a time to work here.”

“Oh and why is that?”

“Well, nothing like a blatant sexist to run an entirely female employed establishment and weird stuffy rich people.” Your eyes widened suddenly, and you felt like you had said far too much far too soon. But he gasp-laughed - laugh that ended as soon as it began and burst into a smile...like you had shared a secret with him.

“What the hell is he doing here then? Got a boy’s club to run in a purple coffee shop?”

“I mean you never really know these days, George, imposters are among us at every moment” you purred and pushed off the counter, meaning it as a joke but George’s heart screamed when he heard your name. As you moved to the other edge of the counter, he followed you.

“What a resourceful and cruel young woman, I am starting to like you, Miss Y/L/N.” He clucked. “And do you think of me like you think of Mr. I-Hate-Women-That’s-Why-I-Hire-Them?” He got inches from your face, smelling the coffee beans and vanilla extract that riddled your skin.

“Hmm...Mr. Weasley, I’m not so sure.” You coyly stepped away from him and took long strides to the far end of the coffee bar by the wall. George immediately felt a pit of flirtatious butterflies and (arousal?) something more in his stomach, jaw dropped, he followed you again. He pressed his hands to the counter in front of you.

“Well, how can I convince you?” He asked rather quickly.

“Hmm...” you leaned forward like he did before and his breath hitched in his throat “...let’s get you a cuppa first.”

-•-

“Wait, okay let me get this straight-“

“Yes?”

“You have 6 other siblings.”

“Yes.”

“...because your mom wanted a girl?”

“That-that would in fact be true, yes.”

You thought for a moment.

“So you’re telling me after she made it through you two-“

“-she still wanted to have more of us, believe me, it races through my mind daily.” He nodded vehemently laughing with you. You two had taken to the empty cafe at a table nestled in the corner, him sitting in a chair across from you on a bench. You had both been cracking each other up with stories from your childhoods, like how you both had managed to never know of the other’s existence until now.

He’d discovered that you had transferred from Hogwarts to Beauxbatons early on in your fourth year. You, a Hufflepuff, loved the quiet and soft landscape of the French school. You both had absolutely no idea the other existed. How? The world may never know.

He was brash. You were careful.

He was already flying when you were just feeling comfortable learning how to walk.

But you sat there with him for the better amount of an hour and a half, laughing and interrupting each other with memories of the school years you had, some weird and strange, and especially during fourth year, hard for George to talk about.

Ginny, his baby sister, had almost died. And as he said to you in a candid and highly vulnerable state: he blamed himself for almost letting her go to this day.

“I...I really do believe it was my fault.”

“George, it couldn’t have been your fault. Hogwarts is a big freaking death trap - you and I both know that,” you had said with an exasperated laugh, eager to make him feel better in any facet.

“Yeah, but...I’m her big brother. Yes, she has five other older brothers but...we were supposed to protect her.” He swallowed and blinked back tears. “It was her first year, for Christ’s sake, and I paid about as much attention to her as a doorknob would.” He had rolled his jaw and taken a gulp of his gingerbread latte (you had said it was your favorite, and he was loathe to try anything else) and you had softly draped your hand on top of his.

“If she’s as kind and loving and funny as you, I’d love to meet her.” You quipped, a small smile growing on your face in effort to soothe. He had smiled back at you, turning your hand over in his and drawing his digits lazily over your palm.

“Funny, because I was thinking the same thing.”

-•-

He had told you to close your eyes, that much had been true.

See, his coffee had started to get cold. So, like if you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll have to have some milk-

If you give a George a latte he will have to not only have another one, but also feel the strenuous need to show off for you and take you to his place of work. Naturally. And it was so lucky that by the time he’d proposed you leave, he even helped you clean and lock up afterwards.

Truthfully, it almost scared you how much he had seemed to care.

“Alright, Y/N, darling, I’m going to release my hands on the count of three, yeah?”

“Perfect, Georgie” you giggled. You’d legitimately only knew him for so long, but you just...you trusted him. He grinned widely, his strong hands only applying a slight amount of pressure as not to hurt you.

“Alright, then. 1. 2-“ he took his hands off your eyes and watched you adjust not only to light, but to your surroundings as well.

“3.” He breathed out taking in the way you smiled like a teenager, face alight with pure inundating wonder. You squealed and started to run around the store.

“Look at these! Pygmy Puffs - ugh they’re so adorable look at this one! Oh, oh - ‘Fizzing Whizbees�� - these look absolutely wicked! And Per- ‘Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder’?” You picked up the glittery stone in your hand, and heard a smooth voice perk up behind you.

“A real money spinner, that one.” You turned around and there was a man that looked absolutely identical to George, although entirely different in the same way.

“Handy if you need to make a quick getaway,” you heard George on the other side of you. He smiled warmly down at you, nodding his head up to look at the twin across from him.

“Y/N, this is my-“

“-older, much more attractive and fiscally responsible brother.” He winked and you blushed almost immediately. “Fred. Weasley.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Georgie has told me a lot about you and the shop - absolutely marvelous this place is, I cant believe you two created so much in such a short span of time. Brilliant it all is, really!” George had started to flush, rubbing his jaw to seemingly take the red away from his striking face. Fred, upon hearing the genuine warmth from your voice and the unmistakable use of “Georgie” had a small, but highly distinct aha moment:

“Well, we couldn’t have done it all on our own, one of our best friends helped us out a good lot. But thank you, really...it means so much when other people see how much we do and-” he looked directly at George.

“-acknowledge the things we love, right George?”

“Absolutely, Frederick.” Fred had given him the look that seemed to imply: “please, God, make a damn move.”

“Well, Y/N, I’m going to be off and woo some ladies, have a biscuit and do some paperwork” he smiled wide when you giggled, already enjoying your company.

“But I hope to see you again, very soon, yeah? Please stop by whenever you can, we’re alwYs just down the street.”

“Freddie, for your company, I’m not so sure, I’m still deciding.” You quipped. Fred laughed heartily at that and looked at George.

“Georgie, I like this one.” George looked at you and winked.

“Me, too Freddie, me too.” You leaned back on your heels as Fred padded back up the stairs to the flat, now completely alone with George. You threw your arms behind you back and forth and took a long stride to George.

“So...what are you those?” You nodded up to the array of pink bubbles in a clam shape in the corner. He hummed and reached to grab your hand.

“Love potions - c-can I show you?” He raised an eyebrow slightly, but he felt his whole body turn to mush when you accepted his hand and nodded slowly. As he walked with you, you memorized the feeling of his callouses and veins, the way your hand curled deliberately in his.

You wanted to make sure if it was the last time you felt something like that, you had that memory with you for a while.

“Essentially, if you give these to a person they will temporarily have feelings of love and attraction for you. Depending of course on the dosage you use and the weight of the person in question.” He explained. You watched the way his suit jacket pulled taut against his back muscles and instinctively wanted to honestly just take the whole thing off-

“Hmm...I don’t know about these, Georgie.” You hummed mischievously. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

He scoffed placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Am i being questioned in my own establishment, Miss Y/L/N?”

You rolled your eyes and hit his arm, bowing slightly at him. “Well, do forgive my feminine insolence, Mr. Weasley, it’s not often I meet such bewitching mad scientists like you.” You watched his face grow blank for a moment at your compliment and immediately wanted to throw up.

“George, I’m really sorry, I know we just became friends-“

“Do you mean it?” He took a step towards you. You swallowed finding again his perfect milk chocolate eyes. You nodded.

“Hell yeah I did, you’re smart...and wicked hot” you both laughed at that. He took another step, the distance being unbearably harder to live in as his digits found a piece of hair and wound it behind your ear.

“Well, darling, the feeling is quite mutual.” He said quietly, taking in the whole of your face. He wanted to crash his lips onto every possible nook and crevice of your face, collide with you entirely.

“We’re going to have to do something about that, then, aren’t we?” You gently nudged his nose with yours and wrapped your arms around his neck, his strong and powerful arms pulling you to him gently. He wanted you to feel him not to break under his embrace. He leaned down and brushed his lips up to yours, feeling you whine and let out a minuscule sound.

“Got you making noises for me already and haven’t even kissed you yet, hmm?”

Your eyes fluttered close and one of your legs made it’s way in between his, snapping any chance at loose air between you two out of the way.

“Please, Weasley, pants a bit small for you?”

“Keep talking like that and they might, yeah.” You two laughed softly and with a final look to your lips he closed the last gap.

His mouth was perfect. His lips ghosted over yours one last time before wrapping every part of himself onto your frame, your lips entangled in each other like you’d never be able to taste him again.

But it was loving and slow and sweet. He tasted like gingerbread lattes and pastries and cinnamon and licking into his mouth you could feel the spice. He moaned lightly into your mouth, sending your knees buckling. He dipped you slightly, a hand traveling to your lower back to keep you steady, and his other hand coming up to nestle under the nape of your hair. Your hands caressed his face, his chest, needless to say? You wanted them everywhere. You wanted him everywhere.

The kiss broke and you and George were left breathless in each other’s hold, your foreheads pressed together as he kept you slightly dipped.

“Y/N, I’m feeling a bit tired” he quipped hoarsely, pressing a brief kiss to your lips and onto your neck. You hummed satisfactorily.

“Georgie, you’re gonna need another latte aren’t you?” You set multiple chaste kisses to his lips and cheeks, feeling him rumble with a small giggle. He caught your mouth with his and you moaned slightly.

“I’m gonna need a whole pot, to drink you in, love.”

#George weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley headcanon #coffee shop #Harry Potter #POV you get called cruel and resourceful by George Weasley #new kink unlocked

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