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sunnyville36 · 3 years ago

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Mamihlapinatapai {part 5}

I am so excited to share the last part of this story with you. It means so much to me to be able to share my work and have people enjoy it, so thank you to everyone who has read this little fic. Huge shout out to the extremely talented @fizzydrink698 for being an inspiration to my writing and an all-around sweet and supportive human. And the biggest thank you of all to my beta reader, @harry-on-broadway, for being the most encouraging and wonderful friend, without whom I never would have had the confidence to write this, let alone put it out into the world. 💜

Hope you enjoy the finale of Mamihlapinatapai.

Need to catch up? {overview} {part 1} {part 2} {part 3} {part 4}

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: smut, emotionally abusive parents, usage of degrading names

Rating: Mature

Word count: 6k

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As Soft As Petals | Kingdom of Gu, present day

It was late into the evening, maybe even so late it was actually early, and you were standing outside the prince’s door, frantically knocking on it.

“Y/n, what’s happened?! Is everything alright?”

You walked straight into the room, not even bothering to wait for Chan to invite you in.

“It’s my mother. I can’t find her anywhere. I assumed she went with a separate wagon party the way she came when we left Lajor, but everyone in the servants’ quarters says they haven’t seen her in hours and I’ve looked everywhere I can think of and - “

“Shh, shh, Y/n calm down, it’s alright,” Chan said, taking your hands in his. You were full on hyperventilating at this point, your body starting to physically shake with worry.

“I-I just… these past few weeks I almost lost you and then we almost went to war and I can’t handle not knowing where she is. I just can’t imagine what I’d do if she - ” your voice caught in your throat, unable to bring yourself to say your worst fear.

“I know, I know, but it’s going to be alright,” Chan soothed. “I’m sure she’s fine and we’ll find her, but you are in no state now to continue looking for her. Why don’t I ask a few of the guards to keep searching the palace grounds, and I’ll send a rider to Lajor to make sure she would have made it back with us?”

You looked up at him. “You would do that?”

“Of course, Y/n, this is your mother we’re talking about. We’ll do everything we need to until you know she’s safe,” he said, guiding you gently with him towards the door, knowing you wouldn’t want to let go of his hand based on the vice-like grip you currently had on it. He leaned his head out into the hallway, calling for one of the guards stationed at the end and relaying what he wanted done to continue the search for your mother. All the while you were watching him with an expression of awe and gratitude. It still surprised you, how he seemed to know exactly what you needed, and even more so that he was willing to do whatever it took to do it for you. He walked you back into the room, taking the both of you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, still catching your breath from your moment of distress.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said gently, leaning down, his lips ever so slightly grazing the crown of your head.

You felt a shiver run through you.

“Your Highness,” you lifted your head to say something, hoping to avoid talking about what he had just done, but were stopped in your tracks by the look on his face.

“I was actually hoping to see you tonight. I need to tell you something, Y/n. And you might not like what I have to say, but I can’t keep denying it for the rest of my life. These last few weeks have shown me that I can’t take anything for granted, so I intend to stop right now.” He paused and stood up, giving you room to stop him if you wanted, but when you remained silent he took that as permission to keep going.

“I’m in love with you. I think I always have been. I’m in love with the way you hum that same silly tune to yourself when you’re doing chores. How you can read a map of any terrain, how you’re not afraid to correct me when I make a mistake while drilling our sword fighting techniques. I’m in love with the smile you get on your face when you ride through the woods and the way your hair looks when the light shines on it through the trees.”

You were aware your mouth was slightly open, your eyes staring at Chan like a dumbstruck deer, but you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the words he was saying. You’d always known you still had feelings for him, and could only dream he reciprocated those same feelings. But hearing him say all the little things you didn’t even notice about yourself, hearing him say he loved you for those things, your mind was at a loss for what to do.

“I love how you care for our people, how you always have their best interests at heart. How you would be willing to never speak about these feelings I know we both share so as to not jeopardize your ability to serve me, to serve them. But most of all I love that you see me. Not the statesman or the fighter or the ruler, just me.”

You made up your mind then. To hell with the king’s threats, with the questions your mother had asked you about responsibilities and sacrifices. You had been making the greatest sacrifice of all for the last sixteen years, but no more.

You launched yourself at him, his arms wrapping around you immediately and your lips meeting his.

It was somehow exactly like that night five years ago and nothing like it at all. You’d both grown in experience since then, having had other partners over the years. Your lips moved smoother against one another’s, and it was more passionate than it was gentle. But you felt that same feeling of euphoria glowing inside you, knowing that you were here with him and he was here with you and you were both finally admitting to what you’d always felt but never dared to acknowledge. You felt yourself sinking into him, willing to let the tide of his love carry you away if it meant you could stay in this moment forever. Your lips parted from his, Chan titling your head up to look at him.

“I need to hear you say it. I need to know that you love me, too.”

You took his face in your hands, willing your voice to convey how sincere you were.

“I love you Chris. I love the way your hair is always ruffled in the morning and that you sing to yourself when you think no one can hear. I love how you take three cubes of sugar with your tea instead of two. I love your determination to better yourself and your dedication to better your people. I love that you have always treated me as an equal. I love your dimples and your eyes and the way you make me feel safe when my hand is in yours.” You brought your thumb up to wipe away a single tear that was sliding down his cheek, his eyes shining as he listened to your words. “It has always been you, Chris. It will always be you.”

He smiled then, that same blinding smile that had bound you to him from the day you met. He kissed you again, then began moving his lips down the side of your neck, your head tilting back to allow him more skin. His hand reached back and in a few quick motions the laces of your bodice were loose enough for your dress to fall off your shoulders. He kissed downwards over your chest, and your breath hitched as the dress moved lower and lower, eventually dropping to the floor, leaving you almost bare for him.

Your hands came up to thread through his hair as you mocked, “You are entirely too clothed for my liking, Your Highness.”

At that, Chan whipped his shirt over his head, exposing his soft skin and toned abs, then pulled you to him, tone light but face serious. “I never want to have to hear you call me that ever again.”

“Chan,” you laughed, lightly smacking his chest, “what we’re doing right now is staying confined to this room; I’ll still have to call you that in front of everyone else.”

“Fine,” he all but growled, “I will settle for never hearing it in this room. For now.” His lips returned to pressing featherlight kisses to your jaw and found your sweet spot below your ear. A sigh escaped your lips as Chan lifted you up and placed you under him on the bed, your hands roaming over his shoulders and back as he shed the rest of his clothes and removed the final layer separating you from him. You could feel his hardness against your dripping core and you looked down, holding in a moan when you saw how big he was.

“Ah ah ah,” the prince purred, “I don’t want you to hold anything back tonight. I have waited so long to have you like this, and I want to hear every sound that falls from your lips. I want to know how good I make you feel, Y/n.”

Even if you’d wanted to, you couldn't hold back the sinful sound that left you as he brought his mouth to suckle and nip at your breast, his hand reaching down to rub the pads of his first two fingers against your heat. Slowly, he increased the pace and the pressure as he kissed down your body, bringing his head between your thighs. You moaned when you felt his tongue lick a long, languid stripe up your core, then brought your hands to tangle in his hair as he stroked small circles against your sensitive bud. Desperate for him, you pulled his head back up to meet yours, back arching as you whimpered, “Please Chris.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in, the feeling of him against your walls far better than you’d ever imagined. Being this close to him, feeling his cock reach places inside you you hadn’t known could feel this good, the intimacy was almost overwhelming, so you clung to him, reveling in the feeling of being with the man you loved.

“How did I get so lucky?” Chan was whispering, praises falling from his lips. “Fuck Y/n, you’re so beautiful, an angel, my perfect girl. Taking me so well, like you were made for me.”

“I was,” you breathed out, “all of me is yours Chris, only yours.”

His thrusts increased then, both of you teetering on the edge of your highs. You captured his lips in another burning kiss, sealing your love as the ecstasy coursed through you both. You laid there for a few moments, relishing the weight of his body on yours and the quiet sound of his heartbeat. Then Chan rose and fetched a cloth to clean you both, your body already starting to succumb to the pleasant exhaustion.

When he returned to the bed you heard his voice whisper one last I love you before you drifted off in his arms.

Runaway | Kingdom of Miroh, 28 years ago

The girl had been running for two days.

She’d prepared her knights and her attendant, told them the story she’d fabricated for them to repeat, and paid them handsomely for the trouble she was surely causing them. Her parents would be frantic, but eventually they would mourn her and move on. The kingdom would survive without her; in fact, it had to, because she knew nothing would ever make her return, force her to take on a responsibility she never asked for nor wanted.

Only five more miles to the border, she thought. Then I can start over, be whoever I want to be.

By the time she reached the marker for Gu, she could barely stay upright, having taken as little rations with her as she dared. She wandered across, hoping some small border town would be close by where she could eat, maybe get some rest. After another few miles some buildings started to pop up, small cottages and what looked like a market and an inn. The girl squinted at the prices on the inn’s sign, trying to remember the conversion rate of the currency she’d brought with her.

“Hey! I saw you come in to town; you look a little lost. Can I help you find anything?”

The girl realized the voice was talking to her, and turned to see a boy about her age, maybe seventeen, tall with shaggy brown hair, looking at her curiously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the boy said. “It’s just… you seem to be having a little trouble reading the sign and I-I’m uhh... pretty good with numbers; I could help you, if you’d like?”

“Oh umm… yes… p-please… thank you.”

The boy walked closer, the girl showing him the money she had so he could count out the equivalent of the price. “So, is your family visiting from Miroh?”

The girl balked at his perceptiveness. Despite all her planning, she hadn’t thought about what she would tell anyone when they asked for her story. She tried to come up with something quickly, stumbling over her words. “Umm no, m-my parents are… they’re uhh… they died.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry to hear that,” the boy said, looking at her sympathetically, and the girl felt like he really meant it.

“Well, umm, here’s what you’ll need for a night’s stay here,” he continued, handing her back the money. “If you want I can show you a good place to eat that’s close by; you look like you could use a hearty meal.”

Despite knowing him for all of two minutes, the boy seemed trustworthy. And he was right, she could definitely use some nourishment.

“That sounds nice,” she answered.

“Great!” the boy said, stepping down from the inn’s doorstep and walking towards the village center, the girl following. “I’m Minhyuk, by the way. What’s your name?”

“My name’s Julietta.”

Revelations | Kingdom of Gu, present day

You awoke, startling for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings until you remembered what had happened the previous night. Smiling to yourself, you turned in the sheets, expecting to see Chan laying beside you, but you were met with emptiness on his side of the bed. You frowned, scooting over and feeling the spot still warm from his body.

He must have only just left, you thought.

You glanced over and noticed a small note sitting on his bedside table, letters written in his artful penmanship. You picked it up, eyes running over the words.

Good morning my love. How I wished to have you wake up in my arms, but I’ll only be gone for a few minutes. I’ve gone to speak with my father about something, and when I return, the whole kingdom will be able to hear my name spoken by your beautiful voice.

A wave of dread washed over your entire body, threatening to pin you to the spot where you sat.

Chan knew his father could be cold, knew he was a callous man who cared for little more than his own self-interest and what he deemed acceptable. But you knew he’d always believed maybe he could change the king, could open his heart to the same degree Chan and his mother had shared. You, however, never saw the man through such rose-colored glasses, having been the recipient of his threats and intimidation too many times to believe he could be redeemed. And your beloved prince was about to find out the true depths of his father’s loathing towards the relationship you shared.

You sprung into action, body moving without thinking as you dressed in last night’s clothes and ran from his chambers, heading to the throne room. Maybe you could reach him in time, spare him the pain of hearing his father’s rejection. You’d have to convince him you didn’t want to bring your relationship public, and he’d be hurt, devastated, but it would be nothing compared to the anguish of what he was about to bring on himself. Or the punishment he was about to unknowingly inflict on you.

Chan was nowhere to be seen in any of the hallways leading to the throne room. Your feet moved faster, desperately trying to prevent what was about to happen. But when you burst through the thick oak doors, you saw Chan kneeling at his father’s feet. Both men looked up to face you, Chan’s expression one of blissful optimism, his father’s one of knowing anticipation.

You were too late.

“Hello, Y/n,” the king said darkly, mouth morphing into a sneer. “You already know what he’s asked me, don’t you?”

“Your Majesty… please...”

You shuddered at the sound of your own voice, tone betraying your agony, your fear.

“You never told him, did you?” he questioned, the trace of pity in his voice making you all the more uneasy.

“How could I?” you sighed.

The king nodded contentedly, then motioned for the guards on either side of you. You felt their hands capture your arms, body going all but slack in their hold. You couldn’t find the strength to fight anymore.

Chan had stood up and was now looking frantically between you and his father. “What is the meaning of this?!” he asked, tone laced with bewilderment and shock.

“I’m sorry Chris,” you murmured, heart breaking at the look on his face.

“Christopher,” King Bang said, standing and approaching his son, “do not fear. I will take care of this disobedient whore and then you will be free of her influence. I should have never let her remain for as long as I did, look what it has done to you, my ingenuous boy.”

You felt it, the moment Chan realized what his father was implying. His whole body shifted, backing away from Geun as he spoke, voice void of emotion.

“What did you just say?”

For once the king seemed genuinely surprised, eyebrows raising and voice the tiniest bit unsteady as he answered, “I-I mean, certainly that’s the only reason you would ever come to me with this request. Clearly this woman has convinced you to denounce what I’ve taught you about tradition, about knowing one’s place, through what means I dare not say; but I don’t blame you Chris, this is my fault.”

Chan stopped moving then, having almost reached your side. His face contorted into an expression of dismay, of grief, as he shouted.

“Are you really so ignorant, so far removed from reality, that you think my actions are a sign of disloyalty?! Of neglecting my responsibilities?! Because they are nothing of the sort. And even if they were, Y/n would not be responsible for convincing me to do anything. Your outdated principles and misguided sense of your own virtuosity could have done that on their own! You were blind to a plot happening in your own palace because of your desire to have me bend to your will, but I won’t let you do it anymore.”

He turned, ordering the guards, “Release her, now!”

“You will do no such thing,” the king’s enraged voice rang out. “Christopher, you will never get my permission for this.”

He turned back to Geun, eyes furious but voice calm.

“I was not asking, father. I will marry her. And I am not betraying you, or our kingdom, or our traditions. And I’m not doing it because she seduced me. I’m doing this because I love her. Because she supports me, and cares for me, and knows our people intimately, probably better than I do. And because, for my whole life, she has been the only person besides Mother who has ever truly loved me for who I am. So you’ll have to throw me in prison too if you intend to stop me, because I refuse to be here without her.”

“No!” you yelled, straining against your captors, energy rushing back to your body at his words. “No, Chris please, you have to let me go! I’m so grateful we had last night; it was the best night of my life and always will be. I knew the consequences I might face, and getting to tell you how much I love you was worth every one, but you were never supposed to suffer because of me. I can’t let you do this.”

Your pleas were interrupted by a herald entering the room.

“Your Majesty - “

‘WHAT?!” King Bang whirled on him, outrage blatantly evident on his face.

While the king was distracted, Chan shoved the guards away from you and took your shaking form into his arms, cradling your head against his chest. “Y/n, you’ve protected me and sacrificed for me my entire life. Let me be the one who takes care of you now.”

His whispers stopped when you heard the announcement of the herald.

“His Majesty King Peter Soleil of Miroh is here with his wife, Queen Margaery, as well as one of our palace servants, Julietta, Your Majesty. They are insisting on an audience with you.”

“Your mother?” Chan questioned, meeting your equally confused face with his own.

The king glanced to where the pair of you stood, rolling his eyes obnoxiously. “Fine, bring them in. Let these two have their last embrace before I rid us of her presence.”

The herald opened the doors, and there stood your mother, dressed in a beautiful gown you could tell was made for royalty. She entered, followed closely by the king and queen of Miroh. You’d seen them a few times over the years at various palace functions. They seemed like steadfast and benevolent leaders, reflected in their small kingdom’s reputation for nonviolence and generosity. In fact, the only turmoil you could remember them being involved in was the disappearance of the crown princess, several years before you were even born. Not much was known about the circumstances of the disappearance, but it was said the king and queen had never given up hope of finding her.

They came to a stop in the middle of the room, the sovereigns flanking your mother. Looking at the three of them, you couldn’t deny the resemblance of your mother to the elder two people, and a memory stirred in the back of your mind.

“King Peter, Queen Margaery,” King Bang addressed them tersely, “I would say I am pleased to see you but I am at this moment engaged in a personal matter and would like very much to return to it. If you could please explain why you have one of my palace servants here with you playing dress up, I would appreciate your cooperation.”

“Certainly,” came King Soleil’s placid reply. “We are here on a personal matter as well, one that Julietta, and indeed Y/n, are involved in.”

Chan’s arms tensed around you, preparing to defend you against any allegation, any harm or threat or danger to your wellbeing. But, as had happened once before in that very room, no one was prepared for what the Mirohan king said.

“You see, Julietta is our daughter. Almost thirty years ago, she left our kingdom, because she felt trapped in a life we had not prepared her for. Her mother and I should have supported her, should have taught her to confide in us, but we were very different people then, and different rulers too. We would have done what you are attempting to do to your son, forced her to betray her own self to mold to our will. However, when she left, we saw how wrong we were, and vowed to do better. Now, Julietta has come back into our lives for the sake of her daughter, our granddaughter, Y/n.”

Every set of eyes in the room was trained on you, your own frozen wide in disbelief at what was happening. King Bang seemed to be at a loss for words, having fallen back into his seat on the throne. Your mother left her parents’ side and walked to you, smiling tentatively. Chan reluctantly released his hold on you as she took your hand and brought you to stand with her away from the others.

“My dear, I know how much of a shock this must be to you, and I am sorry, so very truly sorry for never telling you,” she said quietly. “But I was ashamed… When I ran away, I did what I thought I needed to do at the time. Looking back it may have been reckless, irresponsible and selfish even. But most importantly, it had been my choice. And I took that from you, the ability to choose what path you wanted in life. I thought we would be better off away from the life I grew up in, and for a while we were, with your father. But when he died, I was adrift and had no idea what to do and somehow we ended up back in a palace and at the whim of an arrogant king, but this time without even an inkling of the power I once held. I thought about returning with you to my parents then, but how could I be sure you wouldn’t resent me for forcing you into the life I had tried so desperately to escape? I struggled with my choice for years, until eventually I saw that you were happy with your training with the prince, getting to do all the things you used to do with your father that would have been scorned had you been the one in the boy’s position. But then I saw the signs of your feelings for him, your realization of the insurmountable barriers that would prevent you from being together, the way you resigned yourself to unhappiness. I knew I could do something about it, but I had to be sure you were ready to accept the responsibilities that would come with having the ability to be with the man you loved.”

You looked up at her, recalling your conversation at the coronation, and she nodded. “I am sure now. Which is why I went back to Miroh, back to my parents and the position I despised a lifetime ago. Because if I can give you the ability to make this one choice, maybe I can make up for all the other mistakes in my life.”

“Mother... “ you started, wanting to tell her you understood her choices, that you didn’t think they were all a mistake, but were quieted by her hand on your cheek.

“I know you are quick to forgive, just like your father, but let me take responsibility for this.”

You looked back at your grandparents.

“They won’t force you to accept,” Julietta said. “That was my one condition.”

Your head was spinning with the onslaught of new information. Searching the room, your gaze locked with Chan’s, reading the utter adoration in his eyes that you knew mirrored your own. You knew his father would never accept your relationship at your current status. And despite feeling confident you wanted a chance to make an impact as a ruler, you didn’t know everything about what it would mean to take on this responsibility. But there was one thing you were absolutely certain of.

You turned back to your mother, squeezing her hand. “Thank you.”

She led you back to the group, your hand linking with Chan’s as you came to stand beside him and your grandparents.

“We are aware of the young people’s affection for each other…” King Soleil began, but King Bang seemed to have recovered himself enough to realize what the other was about to say.

“That girl will NOT marry my son!”

“Geun,” your grandfather warned, “that girl is my granddaughter, a Mirohan princess. I strongly suggest you watch your tone when you speak about her in front of me, or anywhere for that matter. Now, it was already quite unreasonable to want to prevent your son from marrying a woman he loves, but it would be wholly irrational of you to deny a match for the prince to the heir apparent to the throne of Miroh, wouldn’t you say?”

You stood up straighter, feeling Chan’s hand tighten around yours.

The king was silent for a while, but finally gave an acquiescent sigh. “Very well.”

The two of you smiled but kept your composure, bowing to the king and turning to your grandparents. They pulled you both in for a hug as you thanked them, saying they were eager to get to know their new grandchildren, and your heart skipped a beat at those words. You didn’t hear anything else after that, your focus entirely mesmerized by Chan who was pulling you towards the door, your pace quickening before breaking into a run as you left the castle, heading for the stables. You rounded the building first, then felt him reach around your waist as he gathered you in his arms and spun you around, laughing his brilliant laugh and pulling you close to him as he placed you back on the ground by the pond.

“Does this mean I have to call you “Your Highness” now?” he asked, giggling at your stunned face from the use of the term.

You playfully put your hands up to shove him, but he captured them in his own, kissing your knuckles and bringing your palms to rest on his chest. You could feel his heart beating as you knelt your head to meet his and heard his soft voice ask.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

You had never been happier to say yes.

Epilogue | Kingdom of Gu, 1 year later

You were standing in front of the mirror, your mother behind you pinning your hair into an extravagant twist when a joking voice came from the door.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” You turned to see the smiling face of the queen of Lajor.

“Korenna!” you exclaimed, dancing happily in place, too afraid to move while your mother continued her styling as your friend came to sit next to you.

“You look stunning, Y/n, truly. Chris is going to lose it when he sees you.”

Chris, your mind echoed lovingly. You’re marrying Chris today.

“And how come I don’t get a hello from my favorite little princess?” you teased.

“Paige is a bit preoccupied practicing her petal tossing abilities with her Uncle Felix,” her sister responded. “She definitely has the upper hand in technique, but I’m not sure who looked cuter in the flower crown.”

“Speaking of flower crowns,” your mother said, turning you to face her, “Chris left this for you.”

You looked down at her hands where she held a sealed letter, on top of which rested a single wildflower.

Your mother saw the tears prick in your eyes and started to gather up her things, motioning to Korenna. “Let’s give Y/n a moment before the ceremony while we - Oh! Your Majesty, my apologies, I didn’t see you there.”

You turned to see King Bang milling awkwardly at the entrance of the room. Putting the gift from Chan down, you ushered your mother and Korenna out then came to sit in front of his father.

The two of you had avoided each other as much as possible over the last year, which hadn’t exactly been hard since you had moved with your mother to Miroh to catch up on all the instruction you’d missed these past twenty-three years. You’d seen him at the Four Kingdom Competition and at various dinners and balls, but Chan always made it a point to keep you as far away from him as possible. You weren’t going to complain about it to your fiance, but you’d almost wished he’d let the two of you talk, tension clearly still lingering between you. And though this visit was unexpected, considering you were going to be family after today, now seemed just as good a time as any.

“What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”

“Actually, Y/n, I-I came here to apologize,” the king said, his voice sounding almost as taken aback as you felt. “I have spent my whole life avoiding saying that phrase, but I realize now you are one of the few people I feel I really must say it to.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “I’m sorry for the death of your father, I’m sorry for my insults and threats over the years, and I’m sorry for trying to keep you and Christopher from being together. I had no right to try to do that, whether you were noble-born or not.” He paused, and you could tell it was getting harder for him to keep his voice steady. “After my wife died… I had this blind rage I felt towards everyone, but especially towards you, and when I finally took the time to analyze it, I realized I had been jealous. Jealous of your skill and your talent, but mostly jealous of my son’s devotion to you. This year has shown me that I was wrong to think his love for you would turn him away from me or his responsibilities; in fact, his happiness at being with you has only strengthened our relationship and made him a more present, more thoughtful ruler. So I came to apologize, and to thank you for bringing the light back to my son’s eyes.”

You were stunned, but grateful, and the king seemed to read that in the expression on your face. “You don’t need to say anything,” he said, standing up and heading for the door, “I just wanted you to know.”

You stopped him before he could leave, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

He nodded and shut the door, leaving you alone. You turned your attention back to the envelope on the desk and gently opened it, unfolding the paper in one hand and holding the blossom in the other.

Y/n,

Since the beginning, my love for you has grown like the roots of a flower. Even on this day, we are but tiny buds, only just beginning to sprout. I look forward to every day we’ll spend in the garden, tending to our love until we reach full bloom. And just as flowers slowly fade, may we grow old together, enjoying the memories of those sunny days when we used to ride through the meadows we planted. Know that my love for you will remain long after our petals are reclaimed by the earth, my beautiful wildflower.

Yours forever,

Chris

You held back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, placed the flower in your hair behind your ear with trembling hands, and walked out to meet your mother standing at the entrance to the courtyard.

She took your arm in hers as you made your way to the aisle. You saw Minho and Felix on the right, both grinning from ear to ear, and Korenna and Paige on the left, the younger’s sparkling dress and tiny braid matching the elder’s. And in the center you saw Chan, looking to be on the verge of tears, but his blinding smile on full display. Your mother walked you to him, your gown glinting in the light of the setting sun. He took your hand in his and held it while the priest recited the hymns and blessed your marriage, pronouncing you husband and wife.

Later, while the celebration was in full swing inside the ballroom, the two of you made your way out to the balcony. He took you into his arms, both of you swaying to the music floating out on the breeze.

“You look breathtaking tonight,” Chan whispered.

“You told me that earlier, Your Highness,” you responded, wiggling your eyebrows at the term he used to hate, recalling the conversation you’d had the first time you shared a dance on the balcony.

“I know,” he said smiling, catching on to your words. “I wanted to tell you again.”

You pulled his lips to yours, kissing him before whispering, “We’re married.”

“I know that too,” he responded, the two of you giggling and bringing your foreheads together. He reached up to tuck your hair that had come loose behind your ear, revealing the flower, and you let the feeling of peace wash over you, knowing you had a lifetime together.

“I love you, Chris.”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

{end}

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years ago

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You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way.

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl.

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway.

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby.

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens. Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail.

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name.

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.”

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns.

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message.

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there.

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits.

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her.

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take.

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door.

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee.

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests.

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. ��I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out.

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.”

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden.

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected, and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry.

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden.

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning.

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag.

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue.

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set.

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song.

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords.

Meet me in the hallway

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt?

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction.

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly.

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already? She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way.

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in.

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt?

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different.

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written.

“I should go back,”

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.”

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets.

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said.

I walked the streets all day

Running with the thieves

‘Cause you left me in the hallway

Just take my pain away

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on.

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing?

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face.

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow.

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

“Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain.

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile.

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart.

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly.

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return.

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him.

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping.

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb.

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie.

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her.

She nods and he takes a step back.

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases.

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway.

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits.

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside.

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?”

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning.

“No,” he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,”

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed.

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten.

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees.

“What’s it called?” she questions.

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues.

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go.

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her.

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space.

If you’re gonna let me down

Let me down gently don’t pretend

That you don’t want me

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors.

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors.

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues.

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.”

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside.

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them.

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long.

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously.

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,”

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,”

“I was,”

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,”

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words.

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.”

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home.

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh.

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically.

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,”

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,”

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,”

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,”

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying.

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,”

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts.

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?”

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did.

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back.

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat.

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers.

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over.

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond.

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw.

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound.

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch.

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it.

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces.

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,”

“M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring.

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks.

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue.

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak.

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches.

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go.

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?”

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her.

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,”

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow.

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back.

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes.

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris.

We don’t know where we’re going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It’s hard when we argue

We’re both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road

You bring me home

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #ybmh #so!!!! that's all folks <3

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hops-hunny · 3 years ago

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Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 8

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: none!

A/N: sorry it took me so long. The rest of the date will be in chapter 9!

(Y/n) huffed, crossing her arms across her chest at the mess Twyla had made. Originally, she had thought asking her to help her get ready for her date was a good idea. The two of them hadn’t spent as much time together as she had liked too and she knew how much Twyla adored fashion. But now, as her various designer dresses and shoes were scattered around the floor along with makeup palettes that had been tossed aimlessly, her patience was wearing thin.

“Was this mess really necessary? I hope you know I’m not cleaning this.” she said, causing the girl to turn around. She tossed a dress on the bed beside the girl before continuing to sift through the manmade jungle she had caused.

“I know. Neither am I, that’s what the maids are for!” she turned, watching as her friend bit at her lip nervously, picking with the skin around the bed of her fingernails. “You know for someone going on her first date, I seem more excited than you do!” when she didn’t get a response she looked over at her shoulder giving her a concerned look.

“I-it’s not that I’m not excited! Trust me, I am. I’ve been waiting for this date for over 7 years. It’s just..” she sighed, looking away from her as her cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “What do you even do on a date? O-or say? What am I supposed to wear?!”

“A good date will flow naturally no matter what you’re doing. And you said Nev was taking you to some fancy restaurant but also on a gondola ride, right? Pick out a dress that’s fancy but also gives you flexibility. Hold up, lemme look I think I saw the perfect dress.” Twyla dove back into the pile of clothes, causing her to giggle at the sight. She continued to lift and throw things until she popped up letting out a loud ‘A-ha!’ she watched as the dress was tossed on the bed along with a pretty pair of strappy white sandals and a purse in the same shade of white. Once she picked the items up, Twyla began to shove her towards the bathroom with the items.

(Y/n) looked in the mirror, letting out a shaky breath. She felt beautiful, undeniably so. Twyla had already taken the liberty of styling her hair and doing her makeup. They had gone for a natural but ethereal makeup look. Dewy foundation, subtle but glowly highlight, a thick layer of gloss along with some individual lashes to make her eyes pop. She felt like a fairy, a princess even. Reaching a jittery hand towards the doorknob, she opened it peaking her head out. Twyla looked up smiling before her jaw dropped at the sight of her friend’s full appearance. Squealing she walked up to her, twirling her around to admire the full look. Sure, she had seen her in a dress before, and even makeup. But this outfit, this look, was much more like her. Yet Twyla couldn’t help but feel as though something was missing.

“Hmm.” she trailed, eyes gazing across the room. Her eyes lit up at the sight of what it was. The diamond encrusted crown lay gently on top of a velvet pillow along with the diamond necklace and earrings. She handed the earrings to (Y/n) to put on before placing the crown on top of her head. Turning her around towards the vanity, she unclasped the priceless necklace before placing it around her neck. “Oh my…(Y/n) you look so beautiful! Like a, like a princess.” she felt her ears tingle from her kind words, smiling as she admired her appearance in the mirror.

“Now, let’s talk lingerie.”

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

“Didn’t peg you for the nervous type, boss.” Blaise piped up, chuckling as Neville fiddled with his tie for what seemed like the thousandth time. He glared at the man through the mirror, grumbling under his breath. Blaise wasn’t wrong, he rarely was. The bigger problem at hand was that he was nervous and he didn’t know how to handle it. Neville had punched some of the most powerful men in the face, made people gravel and beg for their lives, hell, he had even killed men and throughout all of that, he had not an ounce of nervousness in his system. But now, when he was taking the little baker girl who he had been madly in love with since they met in school all those years ago, nervous was the main thing he felt. He was excited, sure, plenty, but in actuality he had never been on a real date with someone he had feelings for.

“Do you even know what to do on a date? You were quite the playboy before she came back into your life.” Ron added, mixing around the scotch in his glass, pouring some for Neville who instantly downed it, not even wincing at the taste.

“ ‘S not true!” he said, turning his head some to glare at him. Seamus cackled, wiping the invisible tears in his eyes as he slapped his knee.

“Please boss, you went through more women than George does bullets on a mission, which is a fuck ton.” he said, causing everyone else to agree. The guys had all gathered in the spare room to help him get ready, calming his nerves and even giving him a few pointers. Although a lot of the advice was useless, he was able to make sense out of some of it.

“Okay, well, suppose I am nervous. How should I...what should I do on a date?” he asked, coughing over the last part to cover it up. They all heard loud and clear though, starting to overlap one another before Blaise whistled, causing everyone to silence. Neville gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

“Well, did you buy her flowers?” Draco asked, breaking the silence. He scoffed at the ridiculous question.

“Of course I got her flowers! Did you really ask me of all people that? I picked and charmed a bouquet for her the other night. Each flower was handpicked from my garden with intention behind every single one of them.” he rolled up one of his sleeves, seeing if he preferred them rolled or down. Pondering it he decided to roll them down.

“Well combine that with what we’ve taught you and you’re all set.” Harry said, shrugging some as he looked up from his newspaper. Neville gawked at the men. Taught? The only thing they had taught him was that he needed better friends!

“Taught me?” he let out an exasperated laugh, walking towards them. “Taught me? You haven’t taught me shit! I’d have half the mind to-” a knock on the door caused his breath to hitch. The boys all gave each other knowing smirks but their jaws dropped as the door opened revealing the (h/c) girl in all her glory.

There she stood, skin glowing in the soft streams of sunlight that came from the evening Italian sun. The soft lace and tulle draped across her skin delicately, bits of sparkles from the fabric shining brightly. What caught his eye the most was the crown on her head. Even though he had saw it on her yesterday, it was having the same effect on him today.

“Holy shit.” Seamus whispered, forcing his mouth closed. Not a single pair of eyes weren’t on her.

“Listen, if Nev fucks his date up tonight…” Blaise trailed, causing the girl to giggle, looking at the ground shyly. She glanced up at him through thick lashes, watching as he made his way over to her. He bowed, pressing a kiss to her knuckles causing her to giggle some. As he looked up at her, a soft barely there smile graced his face.

“I don’t think that’ll be happening.” he said as he stood up, grabbing the bouquet of flowers from behind him before handing them to her. “What are you doing here, petal? I said I’d come get you from the room.”

“Twyla was really adamant about you seeing me as soon as possible.” she smiled at the scene that had taken place a few moments beforehand. “She said that I looked too good to be kept waiting.”

“You know, that girl’s always speaking nonsense but for once I’ve gotta say I agree.” Neville said, stroking her cheek gently as he leaned down, placing a soft peck on her lips. “Ready to go?” he asked. She nodded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his arm, waving before exiting the room with him. Seamus watched as they left before standing up, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Where are you going, Finnigan?” Harry asked, quirking a brow at him. Seamus smiled, winking some.

“Launching operation ‘make sure the date goes well’. You didn’t think I was gonna miss out on this did you?” Draco eyed him suspiciously as the vein in his forehead began to throb.

“Twyla set you up to this, didn’t she?” Seamus turned once he got to the doorway, flashing him a smile.

“ ‘Course she did!”

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

“Woah! I’ve never seen a car like this in person before.” (Y/n) said, in awe as she walked up to the vintage car. Neville smiled some as the driver came over, bowing as he opened up the door. He slid the driver a large bill, thanking him in italian.

“Yeah, you like it?” she nodded, looking back at him as he climbed in the back of the convertible with her. He pulled her into his side, pulling his Dior sunglasses over his eyes to protect from the evening sun. “It’s mine. Should I have it imported back to England?” her eyes widened. Although Neville had a lot of nice things, she never failed to be surprised when he had something new to show her. She leaned into his side, pulling her legs up onto the seat as the car began to move.

“It’s pretty. I think you should leave it here though. You know, as a memory of tonight.” She looked up at him, smiling some. Neville felt his heart race as he looked down at her. He felt breathless. Whatever he had done in the past years to have the angel of his dreams sitting next to him, going on a date, he’d do it all over again just to see the smile she was giving him. He leaned down, capturing her lips into a passionate yet loving kiss. Their lips locked till they were practically breathless, pulling away. (Y/n) let out a breathless giggle.

Neville pulled out another large bill, leaning forward to hand it to the driver. “Guida piano, sì?” the driver looked at him through the visor mirror, giving him a nod along with a knowing smirk. He sighed to himself as Neville turned back to the girl, laughing at something she had said.

“Ah, giovane amore.”

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

Neville opened the door for the girl, holding her hand as she stepped out of the car. He decided first that they could get dinner. It’d be an easy way to set the tone for tonight and give him another opportunity to spoil her yet again. He made sure to pick the best restaurant money could buy but even then, she deserved more. More than money could buy. He smiled as they reached the reception desk, clearing his throat to catch the attention of the man behind the desk.

“Welcome sir, name?” he asked, looking up at the man cluelessly. A few others in the restaurant were noticeably tense, but continued to work.

“Longbottom.” he stated, watching as the man looked through the reservation book. He sucked on his teeth, giving Neville a fake look of sympathy.

“Sorry, it looks like you’re about 5 minutes late! I’m sure if you come back tommo-”

“Did you hear what I said? You might wanna listen closer this time. I’m Neville Longbotom.” the man behind the desk blinked at him blankly before his eyes shot up in a sudden realization. He began to scramble, trying to form some sort of apology. Neville slammed his fist on the desk, leaning forward as he began to speak through gritted teeth. “Just get me my fucking table, yeah? My lady should never be kept waiting and if she has to stand here for one more god damn-”

“Yes, yes! Right this way sir.” he said, grabbing the menus. At some point he dropped them but continued to walk, leading them to a private table near a large window. (Y/n) gasped, leaning against the window to look at the breathtaking view. Below her was the ocean, the sunlight cascading across it as seagulls flew around freely. While she was distracted, Neville took the opportunity to pour two glasses of wine before tapping her shoulder. She turned around, smiling at him.

“You seem to be enjoying the view. I take it the table choice is fine?” he asked, pulling her chair out for her. He pushed her chair up before taking a seat in the one across from her.

“It’s beautiful, I haven't seen anything like it. Last time I saw views this beautiful was Hogwarts.” she tensed slightly as he reached across intertwining their fingers, before relaxing. Her heart was racing wildly, a million different thoughts running through her head. Her and Neville had spent many moments together, far more intimate than this. But there was something so nerve wracking about being with him in public where anyone could see them. (Y/n) found herself growing self conscious about the pressure of it all, but decided to push it aside. She had been waiting for this for years and she wasn’t going to ruin it with a few negative thoughts.

“Yeah? If you like this, you’re gonna love what I have planned for after this.” he smiled at her. After this? He had more than this planned for them? Her wonderings of what it was didn’t last long when the bread was brought out, causing her eyes to light up. As soon as the basket was placed on the table she reached for a slice of the expensive bread, layering butter on it.

“Th-they’ve got the good bread! With the butter that’s all smooth.” she muttered with her mouth full. Neville bit his lip to contain his laughter at her childish display. “Y’know what I’m sayin,?”

He smiled at her, grabbing a piece of his own. “Somehow I do.”

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

After 30 minutes of good conversation and 3 bread baskets later, the two were finally ready to order. (Y/n) opened up the menu, gaping at it in confusion. There was so many elaborate names with descriptions even more confusing. Neville noticed this, pulling her menu down to look at her a bit.

“You alright, pretty girl?” he asked, ignoring the impatient waiter that was supposed to take their order.

“I’m alright it’s just...there’s so much confusion. All I wanted was chicken alfredo and I don’t even see it on the menu.” her eyes continued to scan the menu, becoming more perplexed as the names grew longer. Her eyes followed the tattooed finger as it pointed to a name that she didn’t even wanna think about pronouncing.

“ ‘S right there. Don’t worry dove, I’ll order for you.” her shoulders relaxed some as she gave him an appreciative smile. As he sent the waiter off, a silence fell over them. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, but it was clear something needed to be said and for once, it wasn’t on Neville’s end. Did she really wanna ask him now? ‘I should at least wait for dessert, that way it won’t be awkward if he says something I don’t wanna hear.’ she thought to herself.

The silence was encroaching, slowly becoming unbearable. It was suffocating, she felt like she was on a rope, dangling above all the words she wanted to say but couldn’t.

“So I-”

“Do you-”

They both looked at each other as they began to laugh. “You can go. I insist.” he encouraged, taking another sip of his wine before she could protest.

“I was just going to ask if you picked the bouquet yourself? It’s far too beautiful to be store bought, the flowers look happy.” she said, smiling down at the bouquet fondly. When the waiter first came, Neville heavily urged them for a vase to put them in. The waiter originally had been hesitant but when Neville’s jaw began to clench he quickly went to look for a vase in the back room. He smiled at her eye to detail, nodding as he cleared his throat placing his glass back on the table.

“Yeah I did.” he secretly snuck his hand across the table, the edges of their fingers brushing against each other. “Do you remember flower code?” she moved her fingers under his, smiling when he tightened his grip on her hand.

“Of course I do. We learned it together during the spring in the astronomy tower together. Best spring of my life.” she sighed fondly at the memory. “Forget-Me-Nots for true and everlasting love, violets for faith and affection, however, the tulips are leaving my mind. I can’t remember what they mean for the life of me.” she huffed, looking off as she tried to recall their meaning. He chuckled, placing a kiss on her knuckles. He trailed his kisses as far up her arm as he could reach from his position at the table.

“Tulips, well, tulips represent perfection and royalty because that’s what you are to me.” their eyes locked in a passionate gaze, (e/c) meeting his own dazzling ones. “My tulip, so perfect. I have every intention to treat you like royalty.” she was left wordless. Was this all real? She had read many fairy tales growing up and now here she sat, experiencing one of her own. Sure, those fairytales never had dangerous tattooed men with hearts of gold, but the way he looked at her, holding her with such delicacy let her know she had found her prince charming.

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

(Y/n) was thankful she had worn a dress because if she had worn jeans? The button would have flown straight off her pants. Her alfredo was delicious, every herb and seasoning used done so perfectly. Not another bite could fit in her. However, when the dessert menu (that featured pictures of each and every dessert) was brought out, she didn’t see why it wasn’t a good idea to get dessert!

“It all looks so good! Like I made it, but better.” she breathed out, eyes scanning the dessert menu eagerly. But when she saw the triple chocolate cake, it was like she was falling in love all over again. “This. We need this Nev or else I might die.” he laughed at her serious expression, rolling his eyes some.

“Alright, love. Un ordine della torta al cioccolato, per favore.” the waiter nodded, writing it down before walking off again. The same silence from before fell over them but this time, she was going to do it. She sighed, grabbing both his hands in one.

“Listen, Nev. There’s been something, or someone, I’ve been meaning to ask you abou-” her eye began to twitch as a familiar figure stood next to their table. She gave her a bone chilling smile before turning to Neville who was much to her surprise, even more upset than she was.

“Ah, Neville! What a pleasure it is to see you here!” she said, holding out her hand for him to kiss. However he glared at it, leaning back in his seat.

“Can I help you Gisele? Actually even if I can, I don’t want to. Get lost.” he said, waving his hand for her to go away. But as expected, she didn’t budge. She leaned forward onto the table, gripping the edge with her red manicured hands. Her cleavage was on display as a fake pout graced her face. “I’m on a date and I’d rather not see you.”

She gasped, placing a hand on her chest in surprise. “A date? Oh my, is that what this is? Gosh I am so sorry! When I met, er what was it? Ah, (Y/n), over here the other day she said you weren’t together!” he raised a brow at this, looking between the two.

“You two met? Why didn’t you tell me, love?” he asked, turning his attention to the girl. She gave Gisele a disgusted one over before looking back at him.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant meeting.” she pushed out, looking at him. He rubbed at his chin a bit as he hummed.

“Really? Do you recall what she said to you?” he asked, knowing it couldn’t have been good. Gisele’s expression gave it all away. Although she feigned being unbothered, her expression was slowly cracking.

“You know as a matter of fact, I do! She said I was a knock off version of her and that you were using me as a replacement for the original!” she said, giving Gisele a wide tooth grinned. Gisele’s lips were parted as she searched for the words to say, mind blanking.

Neville looked between the two girls as he took a sip of his wine. “Now that you mention it, you two do look alike. I never really noticed though, I didn't spend much of any time looking at her face. But now that I am…” he trailed off, eyes tracing Gisele’s features, “You’re definitely not a knock off of her. I think it’d be an insult to you to even insinuate that she’s a knock off of you!” Now it was her turn to be surprised. Had he really not noticed their semblance to one another? It was clear now that not only was it a coincidence, but Gisele’s whole story was a lie.

“You- I- you ruined everything!” she shrilled, stomping her foot angrily. “That should be me in your seat, me on this..” she tuned her out as she looked at her own glass of wine. It would be a shame if the wine was to somehow end up on her ugly little polka dot dress. She squinted her (e/c) eyes, watching as the wine splashed all over the girl’s dress. Gisele paused mid sentence, gawking at her dress. Neville began to cackle, eyeing his date suspiciously. His thoughts were confirmed when she sent him a wink.

“My dress! Look what you did to me!” she wailed, motioning to the giant red stain on her dress. A few people turned to look at them all, whispering as they pointed at the girl.

“Me? I didn’t lift a finger.” she said, shrugging as she gave her an innocent look. “I suppose that’s what happens when you meddle in people’s business.”

“Is there a problem ma’am? Sir?” the voice sounded familiar, but an octave deeper. Turning her head her eyes widened at the sight of both Twyla and Seamus. Both of them were in costumes, fake beards and mustaches on their face along with wigs. She went to say something but when the blonde put a finger to her lip, she quickly decided against it.

“Yeah we got a complaint from the head chef. You’re to be escorted out of here immediately. Come along now.” Twyla said, dragging Gisele along with her. Seamus went to follow but was stopped by Neville. He pulled him close, leaning near his ear.

“Next time if you’re gonna spy on your boss, make it a bit less obvious.” he pat his shoulder, tightening his grip. “Although I’m glad you were able to handle this, I’m gonna ask that you leave. It’s not a suggestion but an order from your boss. I’m a big man, I can handle my date on my own.”

Seamus nodded, tipping his hat to them both. “Boss, mini boss.” and with that, he was gone. Neville turned to her, thanking the waiter once the cake was sat down in front of them, two golden forks on the plate.

“Let’s have dessert, shall we?”

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TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @elemental-of-magic @beewitchedlou @simpforremuslupin @mottergirl99 @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically @de4d-s0up

#Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #mafia!au #mafia!neville

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adenei · 4 years ago

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Day 9: January Word Challenge

A/N: Cutting it close to midnight with this one today! Day 9 brings you a Hinny fic following the Battle of Hogwarts. Ginny’s POV of how she’s starting to pick up the pieces and beginning to figure out how to move forward.

Happenstance

Ginny walked out of the Burrow and into the garden. She needed to get out of the house. It felt like she’d been constantly suffocating from the somber mood ever since they’d returned from Hogwarts. She understood that mourning was natural, and of course she was grieving and missed Fred just as much as the rest of her family, but she couldn’t take the constant sadness anymore.

Her intentions were to be alone, since she was constantly smothered by family every waking moment. It was exhausting, having to answer that she was okay, and making sure Mum didn’t need any help with chores or meals, or when she was checking on George. She took a deep breath of the fresh, country air and rounded the corner to hide around the back of the broom shed.

Perhaps it was fate, or maybe pure happenstance, but as she rounded the corner she noticed another figure had already found solace in her favorite spot to be alone. At first she felt anger because this was her spot, but the anger soon dissipated to a nervous flutter in her stomach.

Of course it was Harry. She recalled the day by the lake where she confided in him that it was the perfect spot to hide out and be alone if she needed to. Did he need space, too? Or was he hoping to find her here? She honestly wasn’t sure what she was hoping for.

Ginny steeled herself to approach him before she walked up and sat down next to him, not bothering to say anything. Even after returning to the Burrow, they’d only exchanged a few glances. She’d been so busy that there just wasn’t time to talk to him. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. If she was being honest, she was avoiding him.

She’d spent the better part of a year preparing her heart for the fact that he was not going to make it out alive. The breakup had been painful, despite her efforts to pretend she was okay. She refused to let him see her broken. The whole thing was ironic, really. Spending seven years pining over a guy who finally becomes interested, and then to have the whole thing ripped away after barely a month.

Ginny wasn’t sure if she could let him in again. She’d spent far too long building a wall around her heart so it wouldn’t be broken again. She almost laughed at that thought. That wall must have been made of straw, she thought, because the moment she saw him supposedly dead in Hagrid’s arms it felt like she’d died, too.

“I can leave if you want,” Harry said, breaking her out of her own mind. “I know this is your spot. Ron and Hermione just needed some time alone, so I came out here.”

She stared straight ahead, only daring to look at him out of her peripheral. He seemed so much older than last summer. The stubble along his jawline made him look even more attractive, and she felt the protective layers already chipping away.

“It’s fine,” Ginny finally said.

They sat there in silence for a while. It was surprisingly comfortable. Something Ginny wasn’t expecting. She desperately wanted to talk to him, to figure things out, but she also didn’t want to rush things. It was challenging to form the right words to say.

“Gin, I-” Harry said raspily as he looked over to her. “This year’s been- I don’t really know how to describe it actually..”

“Not the dream vacation you hoped for?” Ginny felt the sarcasm bubbling out of her unwillingly.

Harry let out a short laugh. “Not quite, no.” She watched as his eyes seemed to gloss over with certain memories.

“Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“-It was a joke, I know. That’s what we do, isn’t it? The whole sarcastic banter?” He stopped her. “What I was trying to say is that,” he paused, “I want to tell you everything. You deserve to know what we went through, and you should know that- er- you got me through most of the past year. Quite literally, even though you had no idea.”

He pulled a piece of old blank parchment out of his pocket and tapped it silently with his wand. Ginny’s eyes widened to see writing appearing on what looked to be a map. “What’s-”

“-It’s a map of Hogwarts that shows everyone’s location,” Harry explained as she saw McGonagall’s dot pacing around her study. “I’d take it out and check your dot to make sure you were okay. It was one small comfort that I could allow myself to have, knowing you were all right.”

“Where did you get this?” she asked him.

Harry let out a chuckle. “Funny story, actually. Fred and George nicked it from Filch their first year and passed it on to me during third year. They wanted to help me sneak into Hogsmeade.”

“So you did! I always knew it, but C-Colin never believed me.” Ginny shook her head partially in disbelief, partially to will the tears over Colin away.

“What’s even more interesting is that my dad is one of the creators. Along with Sirius, Remus and- and Pettigrew.”

“Really? That would have been very advanced magic,” Ginny said in surprise.

“Yeah.”

Ginny watched as Harry became lost in thought. All four were gone now, and the map was a special memento of their brilliance and their friendship. Not that it would ever replace the relationships Harry was deprived of from his father, godfather, and former professor because death had a cruel way of showing up unannounced.

Harry said another spell and put the map away, as Ginny gently placed her hand on his. “I’d like to hear everything you want to tell me, and maybe talk about what comes next when you’re ready.” She waited for some sort of reaction from him, and continued after she saw him nod. “Maybe we can meet here around this same time tomorrow night?” she offered.

“Yeah,” Harry said simply. He never was one for many words. “As long as you’re okay with sharing.” He said with the tiniest hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“I think I can make an exception,” Ginny retorted.

They sat there a while longer and Ginny suddenly felt lighter. In a world where so many things were uncertain as the pieces were being put back together, she was relieved to be sitting there with Harry. Perhaps she’d find peace sooner than she’d anticipated.

#31 days of January Word Challenge #Hinny #hp post war #harry x ginny

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idunnoficsorsumthing · 4 years ago

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Yule ball dates

The virgin thing is from my best friend who thought I liked to call him virgin while we were talking about virgin cocktails. Like I would say Pina Colada virgin, and he thought I meant regular pina colada and just called him a virgin....

George Weasley x Reader

"Can you help me with my homework?" George asked after Potions class. You roll your eyes. If there was something you didn't want to do was spend more time with a Weasley. The only tolerable ones were the younger ones. Then to be fair you had never met the older ones, only Percy the annoying head boy and the twins. "What do I get for it?" You ask. You saw him think for a moment before a grin appeared on his face. "A kiss?" He suggested. You laugh at him. "What then some love potion, virgin?" He asked. You glare at him for using that word. He always teased you with that, why he did that was something else but it caught on. "I want some daydream charms." You answer. George nods. "If you want to relive your wet dream about me you can just ask me." He said, winking at you then walking away. You wanted to yell after him that you never dreamed about him. But, that was untruthful.

You couldn't find George later that day, so you figured he wasn't interested or he would come to you at the end of the day. You saw Fred though, because he was your study partner in ancient runes. It took you a lot of protest. But, eventually you gave up. "I need you to do something for me." Fred said, you frown at him. "No" you said, he looked at you suspiciously. "I haven't told you what it is!" He said, you shake your head. "I don't trust you." you tell him. He shrugs. “I don’t know what you mean by that.” he said, he was a little snarky. “Can you just do it?” he asks. He looked at you with a begging look. “What?” you ask. Opening the folder, there were pictures of girls. “The Yule Ball is coming up, and I want to find a date for George because I want to go with Angelina. We were going to do this stag thing but then she asked me.” Fred said: “So I want you to ask him.” you shake your head. “Why not? He is charming isn’t he?” you weren’t going to answer that. You have been thinking more about George lately. “I would need a freaking love potion bomb to want that.” you lie. “Fine, can you help me get a girl to ask him?” he asked. You roll your eyes. But, you kinda wanted to. It would be fun. “I could always give a girl love potion…” He said, he knew you were against the use of love potions, far too dangerous. What if something happened between George and said girl under the influence of love potion. George could have a rape lawsuit in his hands. You nod. “Fine, I’ll help.” you agreed.

You were sitting in the great hall with your headphones on, and the music probably a little too loud. You prided yourself on being a half-blood because it meant you weren’t completely oblivious to any form of technology when you entered Hogwarts. Suddenly a large projectile hit your shoulder, and you shrieked, earning the looks from everyone around you. George sat down next to you. You take off your headphones. “Calm down, virgin.” He said, he put his books in front of him. “You scared the hell out of me!” you tell him off. He shrugs. He put in front of you the jar of dream charms. “What is that anyhow?” he asked. Taking the headphones from you. He put them on top of his head. “Oh yeah, they rock.” he said, he kept on the headphones while your favorite band continued playing. “You know them?” you ask. “Yeah, Fred and I went to see them last summer.” he said, the corners of your mouth turned upwards into a smile. He liked them? Maybe the two of you weren’t so different.

The yule ball was only a month away, and you needed to find someone who was stupid enough to take George. Hannah? or maybe Cecilia? This was going to be a harder task than you thought. “Pippa!” you said, you ran to catch up with her, she was walking down the great hall. She was a Ravenclaw in fifth year. “Do you have a Yule Ball date yet?” you ask. She hesitated telling you. “Yes.” she answered. You sign disappointed. “Who?” you ask. “Cormac.” she answered. “Really him?” you ask “Wouldn’t you rather go with George Weasley?” you hoped she would answer yes. “Not really” she said: “I thought he had a girlfriend.” you raise an eyebrow. “Who?” you ask. “Some girl from gryffindor.” she said, you were taken back by surprise. You had been helping George with his homework just about every night this week, and he hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend.

You sat in the common room, silently working on homework. “George, do you have a date for the yule ball?” you ask. He looked up from his work. “No” he said: “Unless you want to go.” you shrug. “You should ask Christelle from Beauxbaton.” you suggested. His expression changed. “Do you, virgin?” he asked, you looked at him a second. “No, I am flying solo.” you said, and you hated the way you said. He nods, he didn’t say much after that for the rest of the evening. He did ask you to the three broomsticks Saturday with him and Fred.

It was freezing cold walking towards the three broomsticks, a thick layer of snow covered the entire path, and a cold breeze was in the air. No matter how warm you dressed it was no use. George was walking ahead with Lee, while you walked with Fred. “Soo?” he asked. “Don’t you feel guilty for trying to ditch your brother?” you ask. He shrugs. “Not really, virgin” he answered. You look at Fred, and laugh a little. “I hope he asked Christelle.” you said, Fred looked impressed. “A french girl, nice.” he said, you shake your head while laughing. You actually liked to hang out with the twins, as you found out that midday, they actually had a lot in common with you. Like, the movies that you liked, and the music. They knew all the classics. You gave them some legal advice for their pranks because using first years for their pranks was bound to get them expelled.

The three of you were walking back to Hogwarts, as you misstep, and you slip on a half melted patch of snow. If George didn’t hold onto your arm, he stopped, to pull you up, and you were grateful he did because otherwise you had to walk back to the castle soaking wet. You look in George’s brown eyes, and something changed. Fucking hell. “I feel like we are going to kiss now.” George said, you try to steady your breathing a little. This could not be happening, he moved his hand to your back, placing it in the small of your back. You hoped he couldn’t see that you were embarrassed. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. You quickly step away from him.

Yule Ball

You had been avoiding George the whole week, after you definitely knew you had feelings for him, you knew you shouldn’t be hanging out with him. Especially now he officially asked Christelle. You did see Fred around, after Saturday he invited you to sit with him most of the classes he didn’t take with George. Which were only two, but still you really liked hanging out with Fred, and it gave you a great excuse to ask about George, apparently he had taken out Christelle on a date. You felt disappointed even though you knew that wasn't fair, you figuratively pushed him in her arms. You walk down the steps that go to the hall. You hoped your choice of clothing was nice enough for this event.You noticed Fred already snogging Angelina by the flower arcs, and Harry and Ron were sitting by a table. You might have to join those two. George was sitting at a table with Christelle, and she looked absolutely stunning. You sit with Harry and Ron. “Don’t you have a date?” Parvati asked. You shrug. “I made a mistake.” you said, Harry gave you a sympathetic look, and Padma gave you a look that said ‘you and me both. '

After a while, the twins left and it was just Harry, and Ron. Though it was fun because you taught the boys finger football with a piece of folded up piece of paper. “I think I am calling it a night.” You said, getting up. You walked towards the stairs, and you were sad that all you did was sit, and didn’t get to dance. “For fuck’s sake” You said, George was sitting all cute with Christelle on the staircase, he was showing her how the walkman you have given him worked. Anger boiled inside you, you wanted nothing more than to yell at George for being an inconsiderate asshole. Christelle who had the headphones on didn’t even look up, but George did. You quickly turn around and walk away.

You were sitting in the top of the gryffindor tower, the part where no one came, you didn’t even bother going to your room to change your clothes. A knock was on the door, and George’s familiar head popped in. “Here you are.” he said, he had loosened his tie. He stepped in the room. “What are you doing here?” you asked. He shrugged. “What was that about?” he asked. You cross your arms. “I just- I thought- nothing I am being stupid.” you tell him, and you genuinely thought that was true. “I thought you wanted me to like Christelle?” he said, you nod. “But, now you don’t, why?” he asked. He stepped close to you, he was less than half a meter away. You decided not to answer him, he stepped another step closer, now his chest was touching your arms, that you still had crossed over your chest. “Maybe because you like me, virgin?” he asked. He took your hands, and uncrossed them. Holding onto your hands, compared to yours, his were big. “Fine, I like you, I didn’t want to but I like you.” you tell him, as you are trying to free your hands. He didn’t let them go. “I know that.” he said, you frown. “Ron told me just now.” he said: “Said you’ve been sulking over me for the past three hours.” you try not to look George in the eye, but rather you focus on his hands. He put his hand on your cheek, and pulled you closer, before pressing his lips against yours. He kissed gently, like he had been waiting for this, and wanted to savour the moment, like good wine. You pull out your walkman, and put on the volume loud, he takes your hand, and you slowly dance to sixpence, as he kisses you softly.

Tagged: @enchantedcruelsummer

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley imagine #fred and george #fred weasley #Harry potter #Ron Weasley

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onlytaylor · 5 years ago

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That time during the Battle of Hogwarts when Draco almost died in the Room of Requirement but kissed Harry Potter instead

Draco Malfoy limps. He fucking drags his leg behind him, pushing forward and sacrificing every ounce of repituity while doing so.

It was the fucking snake. Nagini, the one who’d lived with them for months at Malfoy Manor. The one who the Dark Lord had fed numerous times in front of his followers, Draco chewing his cheek with silent opposition.

And now, it had bit him right in the arse. Just a bit lower in all technicality, but Draco didn’t care. He just wanted solace.

He hadn’t meant to show the slightest reluctance to the Dark Lord’s plan to invade the school. To “catch Potter once and for all” as soon as his presence had been identified. Forgive him- Draco loved Hogwarts. It was the only place he’d ever felt (and he’d kill you if you knew this) home. At school, he had his friends. He had games of exploding snap and good-willed jabs between housemates and witty banter. He had Potter to annihalate with sarcastic comebacks and the like. It all gave him fuel; a sense of purpose.

Now, that fuel had been ignited by dark magic and curses that set the turrets on fire. Creatures ran rampant, killing those in their wake. Some of the braver students had stuck around and threw counter-spells from behind posts and make-shift debris walls. In the midst of it all, Draco limps.

He pulls his leg to the Room of Requirement, where he knows Potter will be. He’s known him far too long to guess his motives. His plans were like clockwork, a rhythmic and predictable rouse. Or maybe, Draco was just that keen at sensing his thoughts and ideas.

He doesn’t have a lot of time; he’s figured that much out. Even if he manages to outrun Voldemort, the poison will still inevitably travel through his circulatory system. He’s already broken into a cold sweat as he approaches his destination.

Potter’s already there, rummaging through stacks of decade old-belongings that only the Room of Hidden Things would hold. He’s clearly searching for something.

“Malfoy.” He starts, pointing his wand at Draco’s chest. He’s alone, and the silence that ensues is almost unsettling. But this time, Draco doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care that he’s spent the last 7 years arguing with this boy. He doesn’t give a flying fuck that he’s on the dead end of his wand. He’s dying, and he doesn’t bother with small details.

He focuses instead on the vibrancy of his stare, the way his green eyes cut through him like no one else ever could. The soft patches of dirt that bespeckle his face and hands from battle. The beads of sweat that slowly trickle down the side of his neck, reflecting his urgency.

“I don’t have time for games right now!” He shouts, eyes darting around the room for his lost object while his wand remains steady. They then come to rest on his form, his bloody and pathetic lower half that trails lifelessly behind him.

“Wait, Malfoy- you’re- you’re hurt.”

Draco doesn’t respond. He tells himself his hard swallow is the effect of the snake venom, but he knows it’s a lie. It’s always been.

The caring tone to Potter’s voice, the way he lowers his wand and rushes to inspect him regardless of his mission is enough to push him over the edge. To ignite that same fire deep within his belly, blazing wild and free.

“What happened?” Potter is close, too close, and Draco finds it hard to catch his breath. That’s what happens when you’re dying, right?

“Fucking snake,” is all he manages to squeak, and suddenly he’s light headed. He slides downward to the floor, and Potter, against all odds, reaches to catch him.

Now they’re both on the ground, Draco panting and Potter pointing his wand at the wound. “Reinervate!” He commands, but nothing happens.

Again, louder. “Reinervate!”

“It’s fine, Potter. Don’t waste your time on me. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.” He smirks, and this is all too real. Potter’s caring for him. It’s nice and warm. Peaceful.

“Fuck, Malfoy, when did you become such a selfless git?” He’s smiling, and Draco chuckles. It’s a beautiful truce, winding and weaving Draco whole.

“When you decided to save the world, I guess.” Living Draco Malfoy would never be so vulnerable, allowing the sharp silence to fill the air between them. He’d scoff, or roll his eyes before running infinitely in the opposite direction. Dying Draco, however, was a fucking sap. He refused to deny himself what he’d been missing, buried upon layers of mistakes and bad decisions. Potter draws in a sharp inspiration before settling into Draco’s gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell them? Bellatrix- you knew it was me. You knew it was me, and you didn’t say anything...”

Draco laughs softly. “Because, you idiot, it was always you. Always fucking you. And I fucked up; I ruined my chance to be good. But you... you are what good aspires to be. And I hate that about you, I always have.” He pauses, grinning and shaking his head at his own stupidity. “But it’s what makes you Saint Potter, and you deserve every piece of it.”

Potter’s mouth drops into the finest of “O’s,” and Draco can’t help but stare at the plump crimson of his lower lip.

“Malfoy- Draco- what the fuck,” he whispers, and it’s not a question, but a foretelling. His voice is raspy; he swallows hard against a dry throat. His eyes are reflective pools of the past seven years, memories dancing across his irises as he realizes the implication of Draco’s words. He licks his lips, studying the boy before him. The boy that was wholesome and selfless and good despite all previous notion.

Before he can answer, Draco points upward. “Potter, look,” He states, his hazy vision landing on the most peculiar glint of sapphire. “It’s a diadem. Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s a-“ Harry turns suddenly, whipping toward the direction of Draco’s gesture. Sure enough, there, propped against a dusty old mannequin atop a mound of antiquities, was exactly what he’d been looking for.

His face lights up, cheeks a rosy pink as they’re pulled taut. “Draco, you fucking prat, you found it! You-“

He jolts back to look at him, but his lids have come to a gentle close. His chest rises and falls in a shallow rhythm, and Harry notices the amount of blood that’s pooled around them.

“Draco, no! Fuck!” He glances around, desperate for some sort of answer, before deciding to cup Draco’s face in his hands.

“You can’t go and do this now, you wanker! Not when you just told me how you feel! Draco, please, please-“ he Grips for dear life, but Draco’s face is cool to the touch.

His stomach clenches. How has everything he’d known to be true flipped in just a matter of minutes? How did he end up here, begging his arch nemesis to be alive?

He runs a hand along the edge of Draco’s jaw, and he stirs a bit. His fingers glide lower, down the soft plane of his neck and collarbone. Draco shivers. Potter laughs.

“You like that, don’t you?” He smiles, playfully amused as he trails a path down Draco’s chest. The caress is heaven, and in his semiconscious state Draco feels whole. Green eyes flicker down to his lips, pale but smooth despite his current state. Harry knows this is it, and it’s all or nothing. There is no longer right and wrong; light or darkness. It’s only Draco, and himself, and everything that he’d thought he’d known to be true snowing gently in broken bits all around them.

He bites his lip, making a characteristically Harry decision- a rash, exuberant, intuition-driven thought that just feels right. And as he leans forward, closing the gap between them, he knows there’s no going back.

He’s going to get them out of here. Destroy the diadem. And- Goddamnit- Draco is going to get another chance.

Draco’s eyes fly open as Harry presses their lips into a soft embrace. It’s as if kissing fucking Harry Potter causes more of a shock to his system than the venom coursing through his veins, and suddenly he’s wide awake.

His hands are tingling; he’s nauseous; the room is spinning. And absolutely no part of that has to do with the injury to his leg.

Draco relaxes; allows himself to succumb to the warmth that spreads throughout his body. God, Nothing had ever felt like this before. If this was the type of reprieve that dying got him, then by golly-

Harry pulls away suddenly, and the absence is heavily vacant upon his lips. His stomach twinges as Harry snaps upward. It is all too evident that they are no longer alone.

“Potter! I fucking found you! You’re dead!” The voice belongs to Crabbe, and Draco is just coherent enough to make out his figure. He’s accompanied by Goyle, waving his wand about, attempting haphazardly to bring about some type of spell. Draco raises a weak hand to protest, but flames are already shooting from the tip of his wand toward a pile of rubbish beside them.

“Fu-fucking fiendfyre,” he whispers, and realization dawns on Harry as he realizes what Draco’s said. Crabbe wasn’t joking. They needed to get the diadem and get the fuck out of there.

In the nick of time, the door opens to reveal Weasley and Granger, who immediately hurl spells at Draco’s childhood friends. The robotic henchmen that he’s realized were no more loyal to him than his own father. They were blind, the lot of them, sightlessly following orders from the Dark Lord. Draco dodges, protecting his face from the fallout. Magic sparks the air, and an urgency radiates between all parties as Crabbe’s flames begin to violently spread.

Harry squeezes his hand before jetting forward, climbing the Mound of Things to retrieve the diadem. Crabbe and Goyle are distracted momentarily by the fire, which has formed the shape of a large serpent and seems to be forming ideas by its own volition.

Ron Weasley stares with his mouth open as the snake rears it’s head, and even Crabbe seems surprised at his own doing. Hermione, in a fit of logic, grasps his hand and pulls him from the direct path of the flames as the serpent strikes.

Harry’s tumbling, struggling to find hand-holds in the pile as things get heated. He’s almost to the diadem, and Draco is silently willing his thoughts to persuade his victory. He can hardly move, and in the midst of chaos he notices that his leg is tingling.

In the next moment, several things seem to happen simultaneously. Harry suddenly grabs the diadem. Ron and Hermione have summoned brooms and are hastily mounting their only means of escape. Crabbe and Goyle back away, terrified, as the snake turns on its master and slithers toward them. Draco observes it all, shaking slightly as his muscles contract involuntarily. His leg, it’s burning, and it’s as if the more the flames travel from object to object the more consuming the pain becomes.

Ron and Hermione are ascending rapidly toward Harry. The flames are climbing higher, ignited on old parchment rolls and other treasures from previous students. Harry is pulled onto Ron’s broomstick as he steers to the exit.

Harry screams objections, yelling at his friend to turn the broom around. Draco’s stomach lurches at the sentiment, but he knows it’s over for him.

The serpent’s attention is diverted to the trio as they halt and sharply turn backward. Weasley’s grumbling is barely audible above the high-pitched whine of the fire, and Draco begins to cough as smoke chokes the air.

The snake strikes, and a shower of flames lands around him. His leg, it’s on fire, it’s on fucking fire...

The pain intensifies. He’s going to pass out soon, he’s sure. His flesh is screaming, but all he can vocalize is a string of choked coughs. His throat is raw, but it’s nothing, nothing compared to the bite of that fucking snake...

He’s barely conscious, but he feels a tugging sensation on his limbs. And then he’s weightless, like he’s riding on air. The pain, it’s lessening. He must be close to death...

Harry. He thinks of that kiss, the one that forever erased the line between good and evil. How ironically it was the most alive he’d ever felt. And how if heaven was real, and if Draco Malfoy was lucky enough to end up there, he’d spend an eternity reveling in that one moment.

He allows his thoughts to consume him, until his leg is painless. He’s floating, flying... until he’s not.

He feels himself fall, tumbling forward, and then the slam of the floor against his chest brings him back to reality. His eyes flash open, miraculously, to find that he’s facing the entrance to the Room of Requirement. The door is closing, and there’s a serpent, and the room is engulfed in flames...

But as it seals shut, he’s left in the silence that he suddenly realizes is indicative of his safety. Next to him is Granger, pulling Ron to a standing position. On his other side is Harry, fucking Harry...

He’s lifting himself from the floor and begins running straight toward Draco, bruised and splattered with soot. Before he can open his mouth to speak, Harry’s arms are thrown around him.

“Your leg, Draco! How is it?” He pants, pulling away slightly to examine the wound.

But it’s vanished.

Draco’s mouth falls inexplicably, and he’s unable to make sense of anything that’s happened in the past ten minutes.

He gapes stupidly, breath heading as he grasps the fact that he’s suddenly fucking alive and his leg doesn’t hurt and there’s no bite. And Harry fucking Potter is still holding him, and it’s so much that he can’t handle it.

Overwhelmed with emotion, he stares at Potter, who’s a fucking light at the end of the incessant, winding tunnel that’s been his life the past few years. He becomes lost in the details of his face, cheeks flushed crimson with adventure and green eyes peering from behind glasses that were probably permanently crooked by now. He pulls his lip between his teeth as he too contemplates what happened.

“Fiendfyre.” Granger’s voice pierces the quiet confusion. “It’s a dark enough spell to destroy a horcrux. That’s why when you dropped the diadem, Harry, it disentigrated.”

“Oh my God, Hermione, Nagini is-“

“A horcrux.” She finished, and Draco glanced between them. Ron’s eyes were glazed over, and for the first time in his life Draco Malfoy felt he could relate. The logistics of it all quickly faded however as Harry’s eyes positively brightened.

“Draco, I don’t know fucking how, but when the fiendfyre caught your leg... it must have reversed the effects of the snake bite.” He’s smiling, a wide, wholesome grin, and Draco finally catches his breath.

“I’m- I’m not dying,” he declares, more to himself than anyone else, and Harry’s still beaming as he presses a continuation of their earlier kiss to his lips. It’s war, but in this brief moment, they’re fucking happy, and that’s all that matters.

“You know, I’m not dying, Hermione,” Ron tries with a helpless shrug, and she blushes before slapping his arm.

“Come on, boys,” she says determinedly to them all, “we’ve got a war to win.”

#drarry #draco malfoy x harry potter #draco x harry #drarry fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter #romione #ron weasley x hermione granger #ron weasley #hermione granger #vincent crabbe #gregory goyle #room of requirement #harry potter and the deathly hallows #battle of hogwarts #nagini #the redemption arc draco malfoy deserved

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jewish-space-laser · 5 years ago

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Snowed In, Locked Out

Hello beautiful people! This is a repost of a story I wrote back in 2018. I deleted my original blog (she-guitar-solo) a couple months ago, but I’ve decided to try coming back! I’ll be reposting the rest of my writing today and tomorrow. Feel free to leave feedback, it’s always very much appreciated! 8.5k words

xxx Tile

Even bundled up with layers of thick clothing, a cup of steaming tea, and three blankets, Rosie was sure she had never been colder. It had started with a severe weather alert on the news, and had ended in a power outage and four feet of snow, which meant that her heat wasn’t working, and every flat surface in her disorganized studio apartment was covered in candles. It looked nice, but the plethora of scents from the candles were giving her a headache and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt her toes.

She had tried to watch her weekly soaps on her laptop, but it quickly died, leaving her with a blank screen and an annoyed eye roll. Next, she’d dragged her puppy, Buddy, out into the snow for what was meant to be a quick walk, but ended up taking well over an hour due to his excited prancing and rolling. It was his first snowfall, and he was having a ball playing in the large piles that had already started to form along the sidewalk. It took an extra ten minutes to dry him off completely once Rosie got him back inside.

She hoped that this would be the worst of the bad weather. It was out of character for London to have a snowstorm this large. Ideally, it would all melt by the end of the month, and things would go back to normal. She didn’t know how much more of this she could handle.

Now, Buddy was curled up at the foot of the twin bed as Rosie cocooned herself so only her face was exposed. Having grown up in a warmer climate, she was a self-proclaimed wimp when it came to cold weather.

“This is basically hell, Buddy,” she told her puppy, who gave no indication that he’d heard her apart from a slight ear twitch. She nudged him gently with her foot, and he lifted his head slowly, giving Rosie a bleary glare before lowering his chin back to his paws. “You’re so lucky you have a built in coat.”

And that’s how the evening continued. Rosie would tug the blankets tighter around herself and tell Buddy about her plans to stay warm. Should she invest in a battery-powered space heater? No way, you’re right Bud, those are a huge fire hazard. It was starting to smell awfully strange due to the mix of scented candles, should she stand up and blow some of them out? Maybe if it wasn’t so cold, there’s no way these blankets are moving. When the power turns back on, she’s going to take a scalding hot shower. After we go for another hour-long walk, of course…

After a while of this, Rosie was running out of things to think about. Buddy had clearly fallen asleep. Just as she willed herself to stand up and fetch a novel from the tower of books teetering on her desk, there was a firm knock on the door, which of course, set Buddy into a frenzy. He jumped up from his place and raced towards the sound, hopping around on the welcome mat out of sheer excitement.

As soon as Rosie unlatched the lock, the person on the other side twisted the handle and let themselves in, forcing her to take a quick leap backwards to dodge the door. She watched as Harry pulled the beanie off of his head, shucked his jacket off his shoulders and onto the ground, and toed off his boots. There was a growing puddle of muddy snow next to his pile of winter gear.

“Bloody freezing out!” He exclaimed, “This is meant to be London, not the fucking North Pole.”

Rosie watched with crossed arms as he stooped down to pat Buddy before glancing up at her with a swoon-worthy smile. She almost wanted to scream at him for shoving his way into her space, but she couldn’t do that, not when she hadn’t seen him in nearly four months and he looked good enough to eat in his skinny jeans.

He stood up slowly, giving Buddy one last pet on the rump before opening his arms wide. Rosie beamed at him, not hesitating to walk into his embrace.

“Hey, Ro,” he had dug his face into her hair, so his voice was muffled, but it sounded like heaven to her. “It’s so, so good to see you.”

“Harry,” she gleefully cheered, “I didn’t even know you were back in town!”

“Got in late last night,” he explained, moving his face away but not releasing her from his hold. “Was gonna stop by later on this week to say hey, but then…” he trailed off, sucking his lips into his mouth and hanging his head.

“Let me guess,” she stepped back, placing a hand on her hip. Harry’s arms swung loosely back to his sides. “You’ve locked yourself out again?”

Harry Styles had been her next-door neighbor since she moved into the complex two years prior, and had immediately welcomed her with a handmade card and a bottle of sparkling grape juice (“was gonna buy wine, but wasn’t sure if you drank alcohol or not, didn’t want to assume”). He had made it his mission to make her feel at home, and despite only spending a few months out of the year in London, he made sure to always drop by with sparkling grape juice and frozen TV dinners for lighting round catch-up sessions whenever he happened to be in town. It had become their little tradition.

He also had a tendency to lock himself out of his flat, a nasty habit that forced him to seek refuge at hers while he waited for the landlord to come on site. Harry had to be one of the most scatterbrained, forgetful men Rosie had ever met in her life. If they weren’t friends, she’d be annoyed, but it was impossible not be endeared by Harry.

“Locked my entire set of keys in my car, only realized once I got inside,” he confirmed, at least having the decency to look sheepish. “Called somebody to try and get it unlocked, but they said they couldn’t get here until the roads are plowed.”

“Harry!” Rosie groaned, “The plows won’t be out until tomorrow morning, at the earliest!”

Before the power had cut out, the news channel had mentioned something about the blizzard raging through the night. It was one of the worst snow storms that London had seen in years.

“You really think it’ll take that long?” He asked incredulously, digging a hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Before the power went out, I was watching the news, and it looks like the city is pretty much on lockdown until the snow stops,” Rosie patted Harry’s shoulder sympathetically. “It’s supposed to go all night.”

“Well shit,” he laughed humorlessly, “think it’s too late for a hotel reservation?”

“I’m sure there’s something still available,” she reasoned, digging her cell phone from her pocket to check where the nearest vacancy was. Just as she found something closeby, Harry let out a soft expletive from where he stood. When she looked over at him, he was patting down his pockets helplessly.

“I’ve locked my wallet in my car, too,” he moaned. “I’m officially fucked.”

“Oh, H,” Rosie sighed. She gave her ratty couch a quick side-eye. She had bought it secondhand from a stranger on craigslist when she moved in, and even though a few springs were loose and the fabric was scratchy and threadbare, it was plush and large enough to take up the majority of her living room. Her flat definitely wasn’t big enough to share with another person, but poor Harry was absolutely stranded. “I suppose… you could take my couch, just for the night? I know you’ve been travelling a lot and probably want a nice bed, but that’s all I’ve got.”

“I… don’t want to impose,” he said, though his eyes brightened at her offer.

“You’re not,” she assured him. “I’m not going to kick you out into the cold with nowhere to go.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” He pressed. “I can call for a ride.”

“Nonsense,” Rosie waved him off, turning around to grab some extra blankets from the closet. “I’ll just set up the couch, it’s really no bother. It definitely won’t be comfortable, but I don’t want you, or anybody else for that matter, out on the roads. It’s too slippery to be driving.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I owe you one, Ro. You’re the fucking best.”

“You say that every time,” Rosie reminded him, setting the pile of fuzzy blankets onto the arm of the couch for him.

“Well, that’s because it’s true,” he stated matter-of-factly, walking over to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, H,” she smiled, “It’s been so long.”

Harry sat himself down onto the couch, pulling Rosie with him so that they could talk properly. Buddy, still reeling from having a new person in his space, hopped up onto the couch and set his front paws in Harry’s lap.

“Yeah, it really has,” Harry breathed with a faraway look in his eyes. “When’s the last time I saw you, then? September?”

“I think so,” Rosie nodded her head, feigning indifference. The truth was, she had been counting down the days until he made a visit to London, checking the hallway and mailroom for any sign he’d been home.

“I’ve been so busy,” he informed her, raking his fingers through Buddy’s fur.

“Have you?” He nodded his confirmation. “Tell me about everything you’ve been doing.”

This was one of her favorite parts about hanging out with Harry. Even though it only happened every once in a while, he’d always return home with the most amazing stories to tell her. It was worth the wait to see his eyes light up when he talked about recording his second album in Tokyo. His excitement was contagious when he told her about his last night of tour, when the crowd begged him to sing Kiwi three times. She rubbed his arm comfortingly when he spoke of how he missed his family, and even with his new cat, Evie, in LA, he still felt lonely often.

“But that’s enough about me,” he leaned back further into the couch. He had just finished telling Rosie a very detailed count of the moment he won the tour ping-pong tournament, a victory that had apparently required him to remove all of his clothing backstage. “I want to hear about you.”

“Oh,” Rosie hummed. “Well, I got that promotion at work I’d been trying for!”

“Hey!” Harry beamed, wrapping an arm over her shoulders. “That’s amazing, Ro! Congrats.”

“Thanks,” she preened. “But other than that, not much else has been happening.”

“Waiting for me to come home?” He smirked.

“Stop flirting with me,” she warned, pushing his arm off of her as he cackled. She was grateful that he couldn’t feel how sweaty her hands had gotten from just one silly comment. If only he knew how right he was.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

Rosie playfully rolled her eyes, tucking her feet under her bottom for warmth. Even with the woolen socks she’d put on, the cold was a bit numbing.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Harry asked.

“I don’t really know,” she admitted. “Obviously the power is out, so that narrows down our options.”

The pair sat quietly for a few moments, pondering the different activities they could find in Rosie’s shoebox apartment.

“We could watch a movie,” Harry finally suggested.

“I would love that,” Rosie started, “but my laptop battery is dead, and yours is locked in your flat.”

“Why don’t we just watch on my phone?” He pressed. “I mean, it’ll be a small screen but it’s better than doing nothing. I have a portable charger in my jacket, too.”

Rosie’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. She stood up from the cushion and straightened out the sweater she was wearing. “Let’s do that, then. Here, you stay there, I’ll grab your charger.”

“No!” Harry shouted, launching himself off of the couch. “I’ll… I’ll get it. Why don’t you dig around the kitchen for snacks or something?”

“Um, alright,” she furrowed her eyebrows at him. He ignored her, reaching into his jacket pocket carefully before pulling out a tangled cord. “What kinds of snacks are you in the mood for? I don’t have much….”

“Anything’s fine,” he muttered. He had thrown his coat back onto her floor, and was now focused on getting his phone plugged in. “If you’ve got anything alcoholic, bring that, too.”

Rosie brushed off his odd behavior, shuffling off towards her kitchen. She was able to find some crackers that weren’t stale, and a container of Oreo’s that still had a sleeve and a half left. She skimmed her eyes over the liquor cabinet briefly, but there was nothing that would taste good without a mixer, so she let it be.

“Okay, which do you want first?” She asked, holding the snacks in each of her hands. Harry glanced up, scrunching his mouth in thought before pointing at the Oreo’s. Rosie pouted slightly, handing him the package. That’s the one she was hoping to start with.

“No drinks?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Nothing good,” she told him.

“Hmm… bet I could find something.” He stated confidently, sliding his socked feet over to the kitchen. He pulled open her refrigerator, immediately reaching in to grab something. “You have wine in your fridge! Two bottles!”

“Yes, but it’s cold,” Rosie pointed out. “We’ll feel colder if we drink it.”

“Well, if we drink enough, we’ll feel warm,” Harry smiled, already pulling open her drawers in search of a corkscrew.

“I suppose you’re right,” she nodded, following him into the kitchen to fetch the wine glasses from the cabinets.

Harry found the corkscrew on the second drawer he opened, which wasn’t a surprise. He had been over often enough to know his way around Rosie’s place, even if it was just for a few hours at a time. It wasn’t difficult considering her flat was literally one room, plus a small bathroom. The only indication that the kitchen was separate from the rest of her space was the tile floor, as opposed to the carpet that covered her living room. Her bed was in the living room, pushed all the way into the far corner away from the window. Rosie was sure that Harry’s flat was much larger, but he didn’t seem to mind how small hers was.

Once they had settled onto the couch with their drinks and snacks, Harry unlocked his phone and held the screen between them. “Can you see?” he asked.

Rosie nodded. “We’re watching Grease?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Turns out the internet shuts off when the power’s down, and this is one of the only films I have saved into my phone. Is that okay?”

“More than,” she assured him. “I love this movie, used to have a huge crush on Kenickie.”

“Kenickie?” Harry repeated incredulously. “First of all, he’s such a sleaze. Second, Danny Zuko is clearly the heartthrob here. Him and Rizzo are the hottest.”

“Dunno what to tell you, H,” Rosie laughed, “just always had a think for Kenickie.”

“I think I’ll be Kenickie for Halloween next year,” he grinned teasingly. Rosie pretended that she didn’t see Harry’s gaze drop down over her body and then back up again.

“Harry,” she said sternly.

“I know, I know,” he raised both of his hands into the air, “stop flirting with you.”

Rosie let the conversation drop after that. After all, she wanted to focus on the movie. It had been ages since she’d been able to sit down and watch a classic like this.

Just as Danny Zuko belted out the last lyrics of Greased Lightning, Harry leaned over and cleared his throat. Rosie glanced up at him to see that he was already looking down at her.

“Erm, Rosie?” he said softly.

“Yeah H?”

“My arm is getting, like, really tired holding the phone up like this.”

“Oh,” Rosie frowned. “Do you want me to take a turn holding it?”

“Well, I was thinking,” he mumbled, rolling his bottom lip between his fingers. “It might be more comfortable if we just, moved to your bed, y’know? That way we can just set the phone down and prop it up with pillows and stuff.”

Rosie wasn’t sure if it was the wine she had consumed or the soft, calm focus that Harry was putting on her, but she found herself fidgeting with the ends of her hair. She and Harry had sat close together more times than she could count, but sharing a bed was an entirely different story. Things happened on beds, things that she and Harry definitely didn’t do.

As if he could sense her discomfort, he placed a hand on her knee. “I promise I’ll still sleep on the couch.”

His promise didn’t do much to appease her, but she agreed nonetheless, shrugging one shoulder and nodding towards her bed with her chin. “Go get us set up, then. I’m going to pour more wine for us.”

I’m going to need it, she thought.

“Getting me drunk and letting me lay on your bed?” Harry jabbed at her side playfully as he passed her. “If you want me that badly, all you have to do is-”

“Jeez, Harry,” Rosie groaned, unable to keep the smile from her face, “sometimes you’re too cheeky.”

She filled her glass higher than she normally would.

When she finished, she stalked over to her twin bed and carefully sprawled out, trying to avoid spilling her wine. It was a tight squeeze with both of them – their shoulders and hips were pressed together tightly while they both lay on their stomachs – but Harry’s reassuring glance had her feeling more at ease.

It almost felt too good having him this close.

“Alright,” Harry said, taking a quick gulp of his wine, “shall I press play?

~~~

“YOU’RE THE ONE THAT I WANT!” Rosie yelled, slurring nearly every other word.

“OOH, OHH OHH, HONEY!” Harry shouted back, sounding equally as inebriated.

They had gotten up off her bed ages ago, opting to listen to the movie rather than watch it. The funny thing about having ‘just one more glass of wine, Ro’, was that it had turned into about three more glasses of wine, and they had each drank enough to get the room slightly off kilter. It was Rosie who had suggested that they danced when the song ‘Sandy’ came on, and Harry had agreed, leading her around the room in a poorly performed waltz.

Harry had been the one to insist they stayed standing, acting out each of the parts. He knew the lines much better than she did, but it was still hilarious to watch him flounce around her flat dramatically, dodging furniture as he went overboard with every scene.

“I was in a movie, y’know,” he had sulked when she laughed at him.

“Yes, H, I know,” she’d told him, pressing a firm kiss to the stubble on his cheek.

Now, they were more energetic than ever, the upbeat music adrenalizing them to the point of insanity. Harry was whipping his head all around in circles, feet tapping against the ground in fast, short jerks. Rosie was sure she had seen him pull this move when he had performed in London, but she was too busy dancing to say anything about it. Buddy, not wanting to be left out of the excitement, was tearing around the flat, occasionally stopping to jump up and press his nose to Harry’s stomach before racing away again.

“You better shape up!” She continued singing.

“‘Cause I need a man!” Harry interrupted her.

“Harry! That’s my line,” she whined, gripping the back of the couch to keep her balance. “I’m… I’m supposed to be Sandy.”

“Hmm, you are Sandy. I reckon you’d look nice in that costume, too,” Harry said seriously, stopping his twirling to get a better look at her. He had to hold onto the couch to keep from teetering as well.

“I actually was Sandy for Halloween once,” she told him, smiling at the memory. She and her high school sweetheart had done couples costumes her senior year, and she’d wanted to go all out. “Did you know that for the movie, Olivia Newton-John had to be stewn… stewn… sewn into her costume because it was so tight?” Rosie stumbled over her words.

Harry stepped closer to her. “Were you sewn into yours?”

Rosie was taken aback by Harry’s unfaltering stare. There was an intensity there that she hadn’t seen from him before, and certainly hadn’t been there just moments ago, and even though she knew that it was irresponsible to egg him on, she didn’t want to stop.

“No…” she told him. “It was really tight, though. Completely made of elastic.”

“Wow,” he sighed, raking his eyes up and down her frame with wine-hooded eyes. “Wish I had been there for that….”

He was close enough now to touch her, but his arms hung straight as needles by his sides. The air surrounding them, though freezing, was thick with tension. Everything felt hazy, as if anything outside of the moment was immersed in fog.

“My boyfriend at the time… he was dressed as Danny.”

Harry’s lips curled downwards into snarl. “Don’t have a boyfriend now, right?”

“Nope,” she whispered.

Harry’s arm lifted to her waist. Rosie couldn’t move, and even though she knew her heartbeat had picked up a considerable amount, she felt like it wasn’t beating at all. She swore her lungs stopped working the moment his fingertips buried into her sweater.

“That’s… good, yeah?” He hushed, watching his hand like somebody else was moving it for him.

“What?” She breathed, unable to pay attention to anything but his touch.

“‘S good that you,” he gulped, “s’good you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Why’s that good?”

He wrapped his arm further around her, pulling her closer to him. Rosie placed her palms flat against his chest, and relished in the fact that his heartbeat was just as erratic as hers.

“‘S good because you look, just, so beautiful,” he answered softly. Rosie couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

“Stop, um, stop flirting with me, Harry.”

His name had barely escaped her mouth when his lips pressed to hers. The kiss was gentle; timid, almost. Rosie didn’t dare move her hands, afraid that the slightest movement would shatter the moment. Harry’s head tilted skillfully to the left, his nose just barely brushing against hers. He sucked on her bottom lip like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, only pulling away to breathe in deeply. Rosie felt hypnotized.

When Harry finally took a small step back, they were both panting.

“Can’t believe I just did that,” he touched his fingertips to his lips. Rosie, however, was less than pleased by the distance he had created.

Taking a bold step forward, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. He watched her with eager eyes. “I can’t believe you just stopped,” she quipped.

Their second kiss was more intense, full of open mouths, clashing teeth, and tongues moulding against each other. It was sloppy, and tasted bitter like wine, but Rosie felt like she was flying. She loved the way Harry’s hands explored her body: running up and down her sides, tangling into her hair, and even reaching down to squeeze over her bottom. It was all heavenly.

She didn’t fight him when he walked her backwards towards the bed, and she definitely didn’t stop him when his hands pulled up on the hem of her sweater. She reached for the button on his jeans in retaliation, and the sounds he made were melodic, more beautiful than any song she’d ever heard.

“Ro,” he panted, rubbing over the fleshy part of her stomach with his thumb, “can I please….”

“Yes,” she breathed into his neck, “please, take it off."

She lifted her arms above her head, and Harry slowly tugged the material off of her, leaving her in nothing but her leggings and bralette. As soon as her shirt hit the floor, his hands were all over her; rubbing at her chest, latching onto her hips, even flicking at her nipples with his thumbs through the thin fabric.

Rosie tugged at one of the strings on Harry’s hoodie. “Take this off,” she demanded.

He complied, whipping his sweatshirt and t-shirt off in one go. She gawked at the way his tattoos looked in the candlelight, shadows flickering over the black ink in a dizzying motion. She couldn't decide if she wanted to stare at him or cover him in kisses.

She settled on the latter, sinking to her knees and pulling him forward by the backs of his thighs. Harry clearly hadn’t expected this, as he stumbled forward and nearly kneed Rosie in the chin.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Rosie couldn’t respond. She was too busy craning her neck to reach the center of Harry’s stomach. She placed one firm kiss to the patch of soft skin directly above his navel, and then she worked her way down with lighter, more delicate brushes of her lips. One of Harry’s hands reached down to tangle into her hair and gently press against the back of her head, guiding her downwards towards the waistband of his jeans.

“This okay?” She asked, fingers hesitantly brushing along his zipper. She could already tell that he was aroused, if the growing bulge under her hand was any indication.

“Yeah!” He panted, nodding vigorously, “please, yeah, ‘s fine.”

Getting his jeans off was difficult. They weren’t as tight as he used to wear them, but they still caught around his ankles and forced him to balance on one leg at a time to pull them off of his feet. Rosie had to scoot backwards slightly to give him more space.

As soon as they were off and flung across the room, she crawled back forward and drank in how appetizing he looked. He was swollen and leaking under his boxer briefs; a small wet patch leaking through where his head strained against the fabric.

Harry was breathing in broken puffs, the anticipation causing his chest to heave. Rosie watched as he reached down and pulled himself out of his underwear, sighing out loud when he gave himself a few short pumps. The bulbous head of his cock was a bright cherry color, while his strong shaft faded into a lighter pink. His foreskin had already been pushed down from the fisted grip he had on himself.

Her hand reached out to cover his. She followed his movements as he jerked himself off, marvelling at the way his thighs shook with each brush over the tip. The precum that hadn’t leaked into his boxers was now spread all around him, and the wet noises that his hand made with each movement were practically sinful.

Harry moved his hands away the moment Rosie leaned forward to suck part of him into her mouth, choosing instead to once again bury them into her hair. The pressure of his hands wasn’t forceful, but comforting. He would press her head forward just as his hips would shift, fucking into her mouth gently and slowly. Rosie closed her eyes, toying with the band of his boxers that were still tight around his thighs as the weight of him slid heavily against her tongue.

“Rosie,” he mumbled halting his movements. She let him drop from her mouth to peer up at his face, nearly moaning at the sight of his flushed chest and the thin sheen of sweat that glinted off of his skin. “Gonna cum soon… I don’t know if… did you, like, want to have sex?”

Rosie wanted to, she really did, but she was also hyper-aware that they were both still rather tipsy. She knew that if she had sex with him tonight, she might regret it in the morning. They hadn’t even had a conversation about what they were doing.

“Is it okay if we don’t?” She asked.

“Of course!” Harry gushed. “Not gonna do anything you don’t wanna do. I mean, obviously.”

“Okay, thank you,” she mumbled. She reached up to grab onto his cock again, squeezing it slightly. Small bubbles of liquid were dribbling from the tip, and she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the way they dripped down the underside and soaked into the small mousey hairs gathered at the base.

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered, closing his eyes at the feel of her fingers on him.

“Gonna help you finish,” she stated, pressing her mouth against his hip. “Then… will you maybe… just touch me a little?”

“Can do that,” he nodded, his jaw noticeably tightening. He bent his torso forward slightly to reach the hooks at the back of her bralette, fumbling with the delicate lace before pulling it open. It fell forward into the crooks of her elbows, and she quickly discarded it onto the floor.

The heat pooling between Rosie’s legs was slowly becoming unbearable, and Harry undressing her while she was still on her knees was making her impatient. She could already tell that she’d soaked through her underwear, so she hurriedly put Harry back into her mouth.

“Whoa,” he gasped, “slow, slower, Rosie. Promise I’ll touch you as soon as I’m done.”

He rubbed a finger soothingly along her jaw, encouraging her to open her lips wider. He went back to moving in and out of her mouth, pushing a little bit deeper down her throat with each thrust, but never to the point where she felt like she was going to gag.

“‘M about to cum, Rosie! ‘M gonna….” He warned not two minutes later. “Fuck!”

He was partially pulled out of her when spurts of salty, warm cum burst from him. Most of it landed on her tongue, but a few drips escaped over her lips, leaking down her chin and onto the floor beneath her.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments. The air surrounding them was musty and dense.

“Let’s move to the bed, yeah?” Harry requested tenderly, tucking himself back into his briefs. He gripped her hand in his own and pulled her to her feet. “You’ve got a bit of….”

He swiped his tongue out over her lips, lapping up the remnants of his orgasm from her skin. The open-mouthed kisses soon moved down her chin, over her jaw, and into the dip where her neck met her shoulder. He shuffled them both sideways until they fell unceremoniously onto her bed.

“Oof,” Rosie grunted, grimacing as her breasts bounced a little bit too heavily from the impact. This seemed to catch Harry’s attention, as he immediately moved to press his face into her chest, nipping at the skin above her cleavage.

“These are so nice,” he complimented, taking a breast into each of his hands.

“Thanks, grew them myself,” Rosie sighed.

“God,” Harry choked out a short laugh, “shut up, will you?”

And she did shut up, but only because he was petting her over her leggings and she thought she might scream if she opened her mouth.

It felt amazing, but Rosie knew that she needed something more. She let out a small noise, pushing her leggings and underwear down slightly. Harry smiled, leaning back to pull them fully off of her legs.

“Harry,” she whispered. His calloused fingers brushed over inner thigh.

“Everything okay?” He asked, meeting her stare.

“Yeah, just,” she gulped. “I’m probably gonna be pretty quiet, but it’s not because it doesn’t feel good! I just need to… focus.”

“Okay,” he laughed, “good to know.”

“Wait!” She said just as is hand shifted closer to her center. “I haven’t… shaved in a long time. It’s just, it’s Winter and I wasn’t expecting-”

“Rosie,” he deadpanned, “I’ve literally never cared about anything less.”

And then he was touching her. He played her like a musical instrument, plucking at her clit with his thumb and slowly moving his fingers in and out of her. He was tucked into her side, using one of his legs to hold hers open. His head dipped slightly so he could wrap his lips around the nipple closest to him. Everything about him was soft and slow; purposeful and skilled.

The pads of fingers were rough and calloused, and Rosie closed her eyes at the feeling. She felt her legs twitch every time he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, and her stomach clenched every time he bit down on her nipple. It was sure to feel bruised tomorrow, but she didn’t mind.

“Hm?” Harry hummed when Rosie sucked in a particularly sharp breath.

“‘M good,” she assured him, “feels good.”

She could feel his eyes on her face, gauging her reaction to his touch. His movements were calculated; curious fingers exploring her inside and out.

Rosie came quickly, euphoria taking over her body as Harry continued working her through her orgasm. Her back arched off of the bed, and Harry eagerly kissed at her neck as she threw her head back. As soon as it felt too sensitive, she grabbed onto his wrist to halt his movements.

A giggle escaped her lips as Harry wiped his fingers on his bare thigh. He had a silly, satisfied smile plastered across his cheeks, and he shifted them both so that he had an arm wrapped around her shoulders. Now that neither of them were moving, the cold air was freezing against their exposed skin. Rosie quickly pulled her covers over them.

They stayed like that for a while, occasionally nuzzling closer for warmth or pressing small kisses wherever they could reach. Rosie felt dopey; cuddling with Harry post-orgasm was the most addicting drug she’d ever consumed.

She never wanted to move, but Buddy started yelping desperately at the door. She groaned, burying her face into Harry’s shoulder. He pouted when she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

“I need to take him outside,” she frowned.

“I’ll come with,” Harry announced.

After they haphazardly threw on some clothes (Harry had borrowed some of her sweatpants and his sweatshirt was inside out and backwards, and Rosie wasn’t wearing any underwear), they found themselves shivering outside while they waited for Buddy to finish. Despite their impatience, Buddy had decided to take his time, sniffing every single thing that his nose could reach.

“If it weren’t so bloody cold, this might be romantic,” Harry pointed out.

Rosie raised her eyebrows. This was the closest they’d come to actually addressing... everything, but she was still feeling a little bit wine-buzzed, and didn’t want to start a conversation she couldn’t finish. However, it did feel a bit romantic. Snow was falling in large, fluffy clumps, and the combination of streetlight and moonlight was casting a soft glow over Harry’s face.

“I think my brain is numb,” Rosie told him, deflecting from his previous statement.

“‘Cause of the cold, or something else?” Harry snickered, leaning over to bump his shoulder into hers.

“The cold, Harry,” she rolled her eyes. Harry continued laughing at her, so she ignored him while Buddy finished up. As soon as he was done, Rosie was making a beeline towards her door.

Harry was hot on her heels. “I know it’s not much warmer inside, but anything is better than this,” he stated, blinking his eyes against the wind. “Hopefully the power comes back on soon.”

Rosie hummed in agreement, twisting the handle and letting them back inside. It was just a short climb up the stairs, but Harry placed his hand on the small of her back to help her keep her balance. She could practically feel the heat of his skin burn through the thick layers she had on.

As soon as they were back in her flat, Rosie looked at him. His cheeks were flushed red and his nose looked a bit runny, but it was cute when he scrunched up his face, and she loved the way his hair looked when he pulled off his beanie, sticking out in nearly every direction as if he’d been electrocuted.

She stepped up to place a quick peck against his lips, but Harry prolonged it, following her movements as she went to pull away.

“Mmm,” Harry hummed against her mouth. “What was that for, hm?”

“Just trying to be a good hostess,” Rosie breathed. Their closeness was dizzying.

“Ah, I see,” he grinned, “do you give all of your guests this kind of treatment?”

“Oh yes, absolutely,” she teased, pulling away and stepping back to finish unzipping her coat. Harry frowned.

“Heeeey,” his hands latched onto her forearms, pulling her back into his chest. “‘S rude,”

He nudged her fingers out of the way and dragged her zipper the rest of the way down for her. His tongue poked out from between his lip as he concentrated on not getting any fabric caught between the tines.

They moved slowly while they got ready for bed, partly because Harry refused to take his hands off of her, but also because they were exhausted. While Harry finished wiping down Buddy’s feet, Rosie walked around her flat to blow out all of the candles apart from the one right by her bed. Once Harry stripped down to nothing but his sweatpants, and Rosie had changed into an oversized t-shirt, they sluggishly crawled under the blankets.

“Erm, I can sleep here, right?” Harry asked, picking at the corner of the covers. “I can still sleep on the couch if you want me to.”

“Harry,” Rosie smiled, shaking her her head, “you’re obviously sleeping here. Now pull the covers back up, you’re letting the cold air in.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, instantly scooching down in the bed and curling himself around her. She leaned over his frame to blow out the last remaining candle, and then burrowed herself into his arms.

Harry’s hands were icicles against her bare hips, and hers were frigid against his back, but it was the kind of cold where it was comfortable; the kind where they both knew that as long as they stayed pressed together, their hands would warm up against each others’ skin.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Harry whispered, so quietly that Rosie could have dreamed it.

“Always welcome here….” she returned as she began to drift off. She thought she heard him start to say something else, but her eyelids suddenly felt ten times heavier, and Harry’s thumb circling her hipbone was almost too soothing. Rosie drifted off to the soft rumble of his voice, and the rough texture of his fingertips on her skin.

~~~

Rosie woke up the same way she does nearly every morning: a wet, cold tongue lapping at her cheek. She forced herself to peel her eyes open, and found herself nose to nose with Buddy, who was wagging his tail expentently.

As more and more of her senses returned, she became acutely aware of Harry’s hand on her hip. His chest was pressed snugly to her back, and small puffs of air were hitting her scalp where his face was nestled into her hair. A smile crept up her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to settle into his warmth, but Buddy was growing increasingly impatient, letting out small whines and shifting his feet on Rosie’s leg.

Not wanting to wake Harry, Rosie gently lifted Harry’s arm enough to slide out without disturbing him. He shifted slightly, pulling the covers closer to his chin and letting out a small affronted sound, but thankfully, he stayed asleep.

The power must have turned back on overnight, because her flat was suddenly a comfortable temperature. Rosie let out a sigh at the thought of finally being able to lounge around comfortably.

“Hey boy,” she whispered, unhooking Buddy’s leash from the hook by the door. She held it out towards him and he pranced over to her, exposing his neck so that Rosie could attach the leash to his collar. “Wanna go for a walk?”

The moment she stepped out of the complex, her lips curled into a snarl. Snow certainly looks nice, but she hated the way that the small frozen particles scratched at her skin in the wind, and she definitely didn’t like how it hurt to breath in through her nose. Buddy didn’t seem to mind, already sniffing around to find a suitable place to do his business.

Once he was finished, Rosie decided that she would only take him around the block once. Normally, she’d go longer, but the bitterness in the air and the promise of returning home to Harry made her want to rush. She would take Buddy on an extra long walk later on.

Harry was just as she left him when she got back into her flat, but this time, his hooded eyes were blinking rapidly in the sunlight.

“Mmm, hi,” he groaned, raising his arms above his head in a stretch.

“Morning,” Rosie replied, eyes lingering on his biceps that were peeking out from under her bedsheets. “Sorry if I woke you, Buddy needed to go out. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“‘M up now,” he grunted, “you should come back over here….”

His tone was soft and inviting, and an involuntary flush crept up Rosie’s cheeks. Remembering how warm he’d felt pressed up against her left a chill over her skin that rivaled the biting cold outside. She quickly bent down to untie her snow boots, trying to hide her reddening face from him.

“Please?” Harry whined when she didn’t respond. “‘S cold, and you’re warm.”

“Shouldn’t you get up too, H?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “the plows have already been through, so you should probably call the locksmith to get your car open.”

“Yeah,” he muttered indifferently.

Rosie knew that the moment she looked at him, she’d be a goner, and while she normally doesn’t like to get back in bed after moving around, she was going to have to make an exception. Just as she’d suspected, as soon as she settled her gaze on where he was laying in bed, she was met with puppy-dog eyes and an outreached hand.

“Fine,” she relented. “Let me just get my coat off.”

“You can take off everything else too, if you’d like,” Harry called out. “I wouldn’t mind!”

“Stop flirting with me!” Rosie grinned, giddiness seeping into her bloodstream. She felt jittery, excited, and far too focused, as if she’d just gulped down three cups of coffee.

“Think we’re a bit past that, Ro.”

Rosie huffed playfully, going to set her sopping boots and coat on top of the radiator by the window. There was nothing more pleasant than putting on warm, dry boots before heading out into the winter. As she was walking across the room, she noticed Harry’s jacket thrown across the floor, so she picked it up to place on the heater as well.

Just as she was shaking it out to set down, something heavy fell out of his pocket and hit the floor with a thud. Rosie’s eyes widened as she bent down to pick up the set of keys, dangling it over her pointer finger. Not only were his car keys attached, but a key nearly identical to her own hung from the collection.

“What was….” Harry trailed off after seeing what she held in her hand, “...that… um….”

“So you weren’t locked out after all?” Rosie bit out. She felt heat creep up her back and over her shoulders, the giddiness she had felt just moments ago giving way to disbelief. He had lied to her.

“Um, no, I wasn’t,” Harry admitted with a sigh, scratching at the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact with her. “I… I was just….”

Rosie threw the keys onto the table. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, but she knew she had to do something, so she began to organize the blankets that she’d set out on the couch for Harry. Blankets that had gone unused.

“Just what?” Rosie snapped. “Just coming over to see if you could get me in bed with you? Is that what this is?”

“What? No, Ro. Absolutely not!” He threw the covers from his lap, rushing to his feet. Rosie stormed over to the closet and shoved the blankets inside, closing it more harshly than she normally would. When she turned back around, Harry was already walking towards her, a wild glint in his eyes.

“Well you did a mighty fine job, Harry,” Rosie seethed, ignoring his attempt to brush his hand along her arm. “Managed to get my clothes off, on my knees for you. You must be so proud of yourself.”

“Rosie, no,” he pleaded, gently wrapping his fingers around her bicep to keep her still. “I swear, I would never do something like that. I wasn’t trying to trick you, or anything of the sort!”

“Then why lie about being locked out?” She demanded. “This… last night was a mist-”

“No!” Harry begged, cutting her off. “Please don’t say it was a mistake… it… it wasn’t-”

“And what about all of the other times?” Rosie interrupted. “Were you ever actually locked out of your flat, or were you just trying to… I dunno… wear me down?”

“How could you even think that?” Harry growled, his desperation morphing into something else entirely. He tugged at the ends of his hair with the hand that wasn’t gripping her arm, his eyes closing in exasperation. “I care about you so much.”

“So this is the only time you’ve lied?” She challenged, watching as his jaw flexed.

“Erm… not exactly,” Rosie went to tug her arm out of his hold, but Harry stepped closer, not allowing her to storm off like she’d planned. “But it’s not what you think! The first time, I really was locked out. It’s just… you were so sweet to me, I- I wanted to spend more time with you, that’s all.”

“You could have just knocked on my door,” she narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t need to lie to me to spend time with me.”

“I know,” he rubbed a hand over his face. The tips of his ears were tinged bright red.

“I… I really don’t appreciate dishonesty-”

“I was nervous!” Harry exploded. Buddy yelped on the bed, stressed out due to the tension in the room, and Rosie took a short step back, not expecting him to be so loud. “You… you make me so nervous. Like, when Mr. Goldman moved out of this place, I had never even thought about anyone new moving in, let alone a cute girl…. Like, Ro, I’m not even kidding, I’ve had a crush on you since I first met you.”

“You… you could’ve-”

“And I know I’m shit for being dishonest, but fuck, you took me by surprise. I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted, looking down at their feet. “I never meant to upset you, I really just wanted to get to know you better. And then, once I started… I couldn’t stop.”

“Harry,” Rosie breathed brokenly, the air getting caught in her throat. “I don’t really… know what to say.”

“Just… say you forgive me?” he asked, his gaze lifting to flit around her face for any indication that she understood. “I’m so sorry.”

And then Rosie was laughing. It was definitely not an appropriate time, but she couldn’t contain her giggles. So many conflicting emotions were rushing through her; excitement, anxiety, relief, frustration. It was overwhelming.

“Um,” Harry watched owlishly as Rosie bent over to grip her knees, overcome by fits of laughter. “I’m... uh….”

“God,” she choked out finally, “you are such an idiot, Harry!”

“I’m… sorry?”

“No! I don’t mean, like, literally.” Rosie forced herself to stop laughing, but was unable to wash the smile off of her face. Harry looked both impatient and perplexed. “It’s just… hilarious. You could’ve asked me out that very first time and I would’ve said yes.”

A slow smile crept up Harry’s cheeks.

“And I’m sorry for laughing, it’s just,” Rosie continued, “it’s so simple, and we’re so fucking dramatic.”

Harry started laughing then, too. He dragged a hand all the way down his face, rubbing at his tightly closed eyes before blinking them back open to stare at her.

“So, just to clarify here,” he started. Rosie launched into another set of quiet giggles when she saw the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You… would go out with me.”

“Yes, Harry,” she replied, “for fucks sake, I like you so much. Thought it was obvious.”

“I thought I was the one being obvious!” His shoulders sagged as the tension left his body. “We’re both idiots.”

“So stupid,” Rosie agreed.

“And god, so fucking oblivious,” he added.

“So oblivious.”

“And we’re also… getting dinner tonight?”

“Going on a date,” she confirmed.

“Yeah,” his smile was so wide, she probably could have counted all of his teeth. “That, a date.”

“Yeah,” Rosie beamed back at him, twiddling her fingers together, “so… you should probably go, then. And maybe, I dunno, put some clothes on?”

Harry glanced down as if he’d forgotten that he was shirtless. “Might be a good idea.”

Rosie leaned back against the wall as Harry gathered his things. Somehow, the handful of belongings that he’d brought had scattered all around her flat: his phone charger, his sweatshirt, his beanie. One of his socks was on the other side of the room, it’s partner stuffed into one of his boots. It didn’t help that Rosie was also disorganized; Harry was forced to move piles of her things aside to reach his own.

Finally, he’d collected everything into his arms. Rosie opened the door for him, but he lingered in the doorway, leaning back onto his heels and rubbing his lips together.

“Well I guess, erm, I’ll just see you later?” he raised an eyebrow.

“You will,” Rosie confirmed. “6:00, somewhere we could walk to?”

“Sure,” Harry said. They were engulfed in an awkward silence, and there was nothing else to do but stare. “Uh, bye then?”

“Bye,” Rosie repeated quietly, shutting the door as soon as he’d turned around.

She pressed her back against the door with a huff, mind reeling from everything that had happened. It had all gone down in such a short period of time, it almost didn’t seem real. Had Harry really dragged his lips all over her body, or had that been her imagination?

She had just started to walk towards the bathroom to check in the mirror for hickeys when a knock sounded on her door. She whipped it open to find a sheepish Harry on the other side. She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but when he finally spoke, there was a twinkle in his eye.

“I… may have forgotten my keys.”

~~~

To those of you made it this far, thank you! I’d love to hear from you if you’re willing to shoot me a message... feedback is key, after all!

xxxooo Tile

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #friends to lovers #SILO

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

Text

TLTNL- FLESH, BLOOD, AND BONE

Remus watched Harry's shoulders heave with pity as James immediately dispelled the mess and Sirius' mind was clearly scrambling to say something, Remus offered, "Jeez Harry, if you were that upset about tying, you should have just sent up sparks the moment you stepped through. Saved yourself the whole last task."*

Harry tried to explain around a shaking jaw that he swears he wasn't having a go at his memories, even as he tried to get out every last thick layer of emotion he'd been forced to feel in such a small span of one moment where he'd touched that Cup. Happiness for winning for his school, peace with his decision of what he and Cedric had done, all combined with his knowledge of the unknown on how this was going to end. He couldn't put any of this into an intelligible sentence, and instead was left a babbling mess until his mother took over.

In one motion Lily forced Sirius to move so that she could be next to him while he was so clearly distraught, and then wrapped a protective arm over his shoulders, humming a lullaby in his ears as the first bit of distraction she could think of. It's what she enjoyed doing to put her infant down to bed, and though Harry had no memory of the song, the sound alone seemed to give him some sense of relief.

She stayed like that even as he went back to a heavy silence, still torn between now and whatever cruelty his mind was locked in with those memories he couldn't access, and silently convinced James to go on.

He in no way wanted to, for the first time he just could not believe this was going to get better. Not after what had happened last year with Sirius and that traitor, James just couldn't believe anymore this was all going to come out a win, not with the traumatic way his son was reacting. Yet what would happen if they stopped now? Could they ever even leave this place without Harry getting back his full memories and telling them what was going on? Besides, Harry should be getting put back at the beginning of the maze. They'd all instantly recognized the description of a portkey, and though it seemed stupid to put that kind of spell on something to take them back to the beginning instead of just releasing a spell to make the maze drop away, the point still stood that Harry would be back surrounded by the teachers and Dumbledore. At least for the first few moments he hoped his son would find just a moment of peace before whatever happened began, so James plucked the book up and found his spot, forcing out words past a raw throat.

The two slammed to the ground with such force the Triwizard Cup fell a few feet farther away. Cedric rose first, asking where they were.

"What do you mean?" Sirius demanded at once. He knew he should have sat back down next to Remus already, but he felt useless just sitting on his hind while Harry was going through such an experience, so he was left bouncing in place like he was on a broken trampoline. "You should have just been sent back to the beginning of the maze, right?"

Harry didn't answer, he still had his eyes closed as he was leaning against Lily, like even now he was trying to deny whatever was fixing to happen.

Cedric helped Harry to his one good leg as well while the two investigated the area, which was nowhere near Hogwarts as far as they could tell.

James was trying to deny to himself how panicky his voice was already coming out. Surely they were exaggerating how bad this was, but even to himself that wasn't feeling right. Not with how Harry seemed to be reliving his worst memory yet, and had been since the start of this task. It had to be because of this place, wherever they even bleeding were!

Remus was clearly thinking the same thing as he hissed mostly to himself, "Just where the bloody hell did that stupid Cup send you? Why was there a Portkey on it at all? It should have just activated some enchantments to make the maze fade away."

"If you figure it out, let us know," Sirius grumbled when Harry flinched extra hard at these questions.

They were instead in a dark graveyard;

Harry didn't realize he was reaching for it until his mother's hand curled into his. The boys were beyond feeling panicked at this point, Harry was acting more like a scared little kid because of this place than he ever had previously. At eleven facing death against those obstacles, at twelve and being an inch away from death because of that Basilisk, he'd faced it all with a stoic sense of calm and acceptance. The only time he'd showed such clear fear and pain as he was now was for something regarding someone he cared about, like his friends...

on the outskirts of nowhere. The only thing visible was an old house on a hillside far off in the mist.

Cedric took another glance at the Cup, asking if Harry had known it was a Portkey?

Harry said no, his eyes peeled in every direction of the misty graveyard,

James voice kept failing nearly every time he got out the word graveyard, because of how badly Harry flinched beside him.

then asked if this was some part of the task?

"There's no way," Remus muttered to himself, "I can't believe you wouldn't have been forewarned about this, but then how did it get there? Whoever put the Cup in the center had to know it was a Portkey, but the only person who could have done that was, well one of the judges I presume but-"

Sirius gently cut him off by grasping hold of his shoulder. While they all wanted answers to those questions, Remus' babbling was going to drive them all mad, Harry first.

Cedric knew no more than Harry, and suggested they pull their wands back out.

"I hadn't even realized you'd put those away," Lily murmured into his ear, not scolding, but even just for a moment to point out something else.

Harry nodded mutely, giving some soft response about how they'd tucked them away just before they'd grasped the Cup, they'd had no reason to think they were needed anymore, and trailed off from there before his mouth spouted the worst of it, they needed them now more than ever.

Harry was happy it had been Cedric who suggested it,

James forced out a laugh he didn't really feel, but thought now more than ever was a perfect time to tease his son about, "you've really got to stop caring what Cedric thinks, you're twice as brave as he is at half his age."

There was a terrifying moment where a look actually flashed across Harry's face like he would have punched James for saying that, but then just as fast his face closed off. His eyes had opened now but he was staring fixedly into the fire, watching the flames lap against the logs and clearly so torn between his past and present he was only keeping himself in check by reacting to as little as possible for now.

as they did just that. Harry kept looking in every direction, that feeling again of being watched on him.

That statement finally seemed to jog something of Harry being in here, his eyes darting to his dad again, but now with clear worry. Harry somehow just knew that in a few moments time, his dad reading about whatever was fixing to come, something of the person who was watching him, was going to cut his father deep.

Harry caught the movement first, telling that someone was coming. They seemed either short, or bent over, and were shuffling into sight with too thick arms, until he realized the walker was carrying something.

Harry could feel a scream building up in him, that or vomit he wasn't sure anymore, but he was confident what it meant. A warning, they needed to get out of there, now!

The distance between them closing all the time, Harry managed to take in a few more details. The face was covered with a hood, so he still couldn't see the moving person, but now he was sure what was being carried was something in a bundle of robes, like a baby.

Sirius had the odd moment of a flashback to how Hagrid was first described appearing, but even shaking that image away it was impossible to figure out what was going on. None of this was adding up, and he just knew one thing for certain, he wanted his pup out of there before he'd even gotten there.

The figure stopped just beside a marble headstone, and for a small moment the three figures only stared at each other.

Then Harry's scar exploded with pain.

James's knee jerked in shock as he half shouted that last part, his eyes shooting fearfully to Harry and back to the book. If he'd had a bad feeling about this before, it was going haywire now. Harry was rubbing at his scar, his fingers trembling as he traced the pattern in remembrance of that. James remembered Dumbledore's words, how Harry would feel that whenever Voldemort was close by or angry...and it just didn't feel like a coincidence that this was happening now!

Harry's knees buckled, he fell to the ground with pain he'd never felt before, his fingers covering his face with agony;

Lily tightened her hold around him, and James considered passing the book along to someone else already, he felt like he was torturing his son by forcing all of this out with Harry just sitting there rather than react how it was clear he felt he needed to back how he would in that graveyard.

he was screaming in so much pain he hardly made out a high, cold voice command 'kill the spare.'

James was so worried about Harry at his side that for a moment it had hardly registered what he'd said, and then he thought his tongue had swollen to twice its size in his mouth, he just wasn't able to speak anymore. Harry was crying freely now, there was no denial anywhere on him that showed what he'd heard was in any way wrong. James just couldn't believe it though, there was no way what was being painted could actually have happened. He forced out in a state of utter denial.

The spell Avada Kedavra rang through the night, there was a flash of green light, and a thud hit down beside Harry. Through stinging eyes he forced himself to look at Cedric lying spread eagle on the ground, dead.

"No." Lily's voice came out more of an echo than an actual denial as her arms tightened so hard around Harry she was likely hurting him, but he didn't complain. Though her world was focused solely on her fourteen year old son having to witness that, in such a brutal and heartless manner, her thoughts did indeed flip just for a moment to Amos and his wife, how proud they were of their son who'd simply had his life cut from him. That could have so easily been her only child, how he wouldn't be sitting beside her now with a dark look of acceptance on his face.

Harry for his part only felt the shock of his fourteen year old mind registering what had happened, some slim denial in there as well. He was rubbing at his streaming eyes to force that away, not in shame, but determination. He'd distantly recognized for some time what his memory had been trying to warn him of, what all these protective feelings of Cedric were when in reality he'd never been close to him. Now his memory was complete and he understood those feelings, but the worst of them lingered. Cedric had been discarded for no reason that Harry could ever understand, but that wasn't the worst part of this night still. There hadn't been an excuse for this, his partner in winning this competition had only been killed because he'd been there with Harry.

James was more angry than he'd ever been in his life. The only thing that had enraged him more was finding out what had happened to Sirius, but this was almost on level with that. Those words kept ringing in his head, 'kill the spare.' Cedric had been murdered just for simply being there! He wished he was more surprised by this, but it was entirely the Death Eater way to act like this! His only other real emotion was concern, if Cedric was the spare, than Harry was indeed put there for a reason, and his hands trembled at even a guess of why that was. He didn't even chance a glance at his friends, though he had registered Sirius falling down beside Remus in shock, but James was now too muddled in his own brain to consider anything other than hearing how Harry got out of this.

For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric's open gray eyes,

Harry couldn't stop an extra sob catching in his throat for that, not only for Cedric, but someone else with gray eyes he'd have to one day see for the last time...but the thought was so distant he didn't even realize he'd been thinking it, too focused on trying to marshal his thoughts into any kind of recognizable order other than horror.

his last frozen expression of surprise. Before Harry had even considered moving, someone was hauling him to his feet.

Lily snarled in outrage of anyone touching her Hare Bare in that moment, not a person on earth could remove her arm from where it was right now.

The short man who'd come into sight was now dragging Harry toward the headstone, and despite his struggles in the dim wand light held by the person, he was slammed against it, only just making out a name. Tom Riddle.

Remus muttered something James couldn't register. He certainly felt his own amount of shock as some part of his brain lit up on where this was, but the rest of his being went numb upon that realization. Voldemort really was there, and they were at a Riddle's gravestone, which meant the book had come full circle, and they were ending where it had begun. That bundle of blankets was the little being that had been in a high back chair this whole time... so that was-

"Here Prongs," James jolted and nearly turned Sirius into a slug as he interceded his trail of thoughts, but then his best friend did register, and he looked pissed. It was all to clear he was understanding this all just as well as James had, but where James still could hardly properly form what had become of this future, Sirius was well into another angry cycle of wanting to demolish the world, but for now settling on reading in blistering tones. At least he was more likely to get it all out without wanting to break down every five seconds with regret and pain, no Sirius was more likely to read it out with a colorful array of insults and death threats, but that was more bearable, because at least that would give them an easy focus. James passed the book along and leaned back as far as he could, then moved over until he had both Lily and Harry tight in his own arms, the only distraction that could give him peace.

The cloaked man had conjured thick cords and was keeping Harry in place as they were wrapped around every bit of him. The shallow breathing coming from the shadowed face was fast and struggling. Despite Harry's attempts to get away, he was punched with a hand that held a missing finger.

It had taken Harry a few beats longer to catch up with where everybody else was, but as the blow sank in and he pressed his hand to his face in shock and looked around him properly again, he distantly felt sorry for them all. He was still lost in the maelstrom of what had happened to Cedric, but to them someone else they'd all loved had fallen so much farther.

Lily looked disturbed, like the image of a man who'd been there the first time Harry had kicked in her womb could not be put on the same person who put a fist to his face for any reason! The boys looked monstrous, Remus more so than Harry had ever seen at his worst times. For the first time, Harry truly saw the shadow of a wolf reflect in his eyes when he heard one of his closest friends doing that. For one tiny moment Harry was convinced he'd see that look again, but Sirius was still snarling out every word as a promise of a death threat, that hand was coming off faster than his head now.

Harry realized who was under the hood, Wormtail.

Sirius couldn't use the nickname Harry had learned to associate that rat with, that would have actually broken him, that name meant too much to him. Instead he could only manage to refer to him as him. The word was used with such pure violence it wasn't hard to put it together.

Harry tried to say something, but before he could a wad of thick material was shoved into his mouth. Then his ropes were checked for any slackness, but the knots were cutting into his skin with tightness.

James was beside himself. He knew he'd never forgive what had happened, he'd betrayed him and Lily, and never for what he'd done to Sirius, but unintentionally, this whole time in the very smallest bit of his heart, he'd actually been hoping the rat would pull another switch. That little comment he'd made, there in the beginning about trying to use another other than Harry, well clearly this was what that conversation had been about, so whenever that time had come James had unbeknownst even to himself been praying to see a return of his friend, that he'd help Harry in a moment of redeemability. Now that was as dead as Cedric, another innocent person he'd rid himself of in his bid for his own protection.

Harry couldn't turn his head to see much, so he was left staring at dark mist before him, while just on the edge of his vision Cedric's body was twenty feet away.

Harry knew he should have felt betrayed at the part Wormtail was playing, and continue to blame himself for Cedric being there and now his death as well. At the time, he knew it had been his fault, if only he'd let Sirius and Remus kill him when they'd had the chance, none of this would be happening! Yet, Sirius' words still hovered enough that he didn't break down all over again, apologizing and begging forgiveness of this happening to an innocent person. Sirius didn't blame him for this happening, and that was what really mattered, it was in fact all the fault of a fallen Marauder.

Just a few feet from him, the Triwizard Cup.

Remus' mind was already forcing itself past the worst anger he'd ever felt in his life, and instead trying to come up with wild escape plans for Harry to get out of this, ironically which had been his part in their pranking schemes, their escape route. Now he was stuck on those terrible memories and couldn't process what he'd been wanting to think of regarding the Cup.

Harry's wand lay where it had fallen by Cedric, so Harry was defenseless against the smooth marble, still in pain with his scar burning against him. The swath of fabric on the ground was now twitching furiously where it had been set down, and Harry knew one thing for certain, he did not want to see what was under that bundle.

Of that they all agreed with. They'd never wanted to think of this thing existing in the first place, now it was within reaching distance of where Harry was, and all they really wanted was a large rock to squish that moving cloth before it could do even worse than it already had.

Wormtail had vanished for a time, but now he was coming back dragging the largest cauldron Harry had ever seen, which seemed to be filled with water.

In spite of the bloodlust pumping through them all, this really was odd enough to distract them back into the actual act of the story, and what the bloody hell was going on? Why hadn't Harry just been killed outright, what potion was being brewed for whatever kind of situation this was? In spite of these questions and more, they were all entirely certain they wanted no answers, and yet Sirius forced himself to keep going, the faster he finished the faster he could get to the murder he was owed.

Once it was set in place only a few feet away from where Harry was, a fire was lit beneath it, which quickly set the liquid within boiling. Not fast enough, as the cold voice commanded again to hurry.

As menacing as Sirius sounded then, even his godfather still couldn't hold a candle to the icy venom of Voldemort's voice, which Harry oddly found some comfort in. Even with the backlash of murder curling his every syllable, it was of some ease to Harry he still couldn't fear for his life in here like he had that night.

In the harsh light of the fire, Harry could pear inside the steaming bubbles, and saw the whole innards was encrusted with diamonds.

Remus cocked his head to the side as something nagged at the back of his mind, what an oddly specific cauldron.

Wormtail told his Master it was ready,

James longed for a time where he would have beheaded someone else for insinuating the friend he knew would ever have called Voldemort Master as anything more than a joke.

and shuffled over to the thing on the ground one last time. In lifting it up, Harry finally saw what had been swaddled, and his yell was only strangled off by his mouth having something blocked in it.

Harry may not have anything blocking his airway now, but he thankfully still restrained himself from repeating that noise even if the look on his face did already show the level of horror they were fixing to hear.

It was indeed in the shape of a child, but no infant that should ever exist.

Lily couldn't get the disgust out of her that this blight had once held her own precious child, that the mockery of the moment was distorted beyond all recognition with him having spent any amount of time caring for this new facet of Voldemort's wasted life.

There was no hair, and every inch of skin was burnt red, the arms and legs were feeble and could not have supported itself, the face was flat and held snakelike features with ruby red eyes.

Remus remembered back to that first chapter, how he'd considered the idea that Voldemort had somehow possessed a human child and that was how this thing was existing, he really had no other explanation for how it was even alive, but then again, he hadn't a clue from the beginning how any of this worked. Harry should have died that night but instead Voldemort had vanished, and still hadn't been killed himself. None of this was in the realm of possibilities he understood, so why was something about that cauldron lingering in his mind?

Its fingers wrapped around Wormtail's neck as he lifted it up, and the cloak finally fell away from his face, revealing the revulsion on the servants face.

Sirius couldn't deny the fact that he was pleased in the most twisted way it was possible to be. Even if he couldn't be skinning this useless critter alive right now, at least in some form he was still being forced to deal with the choice of his decision. Revulsion would soon be a happy memory of his once Sirius got ahold of him, so he should enjoy it while it lasted.

The being was carried to the cauldron and dropped inside, Harry could hear its body hit the bottom. Around his scar having its own fire on his forehead, he still managed the pleading thought of it drowning.

Lily was trying to get her mind to go past what was being done to her son, to focus instead on what on earth this potion could be, but she was coming up blank. What could Voldemort be using, and still far more importantly, why was Harry there?!

Wormtail was reciting to himself as he kept his wand held in his good hand, speaking to himself as he called for the bone of the father, unknowingly given, to renew its son.

Remus was, well not happy by any means in this situation, but grateful he hadn't been the one to take the book away from James now, because he was entirely certain his voice would have failed him. It wasn't really that potion.

The ground cracked under Harry's feet, and a fine powder was being lifted away from the dirt upon the wands command, and fell into the vat. The clear surface hissed and frothed, now turning a vivid blue.

James had not a single clue of what brew was being concocted in that, but from the one ingredient alone he was more confident than ever before he was not going to like the end results, and more than anything he wanted Harry away from it.

Wormtail's voice was going even higher in fear as he tucked his wand away and instead pulled out a dagger, still forcing himself to speak through his own sobs,

Sirius didn't even sound disturbingly happy anymore, he was too wrapped up in disgust for what he was forcing out.

of the flesh of the servant, willingly given to revive his master.

Remus had hated himself many moments over his life, but none more so than now, where there was no more doubt in his mind what that rat was actually doing, and it was all his fault.

He had his right hand hovering over the boiling pot now, and was raising the dagger with purpose. He had it held at its highest point, and swung down.

Lily replayed that sickening line one more time in her head, and still she wasn't prepared for what Sirius shot out next.

Harry realized what was about to happen a moment before it did, his eyes snapped shut, and still he was forced to hear the wrenching cry of pain tearing through the night and the splash as the ingredient was consumed. Behind his closed lids, he knew the splash of red was the potion changing colors.

Harry wasn't sure about the others, but for him this was still more traumatizing than anything. To even think about what Wormtail had done to himself, what he'd already done to Cedric. He knew he should have been angry, or scared, but the only thing still resonating was the pain this night had caused.

He wasn't done quite yet. Sobbing harder than ever, his voice now inching closer to Harry, Wormtail brokenly recited the last line, blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, will resurrect his foe.

Sirius roared that line more than anything. He'd been apoplectic when he'd learned what had been done to James, and even himself, but this still somehow managed to reach a new level of atrocity on his part. He was going to take what from Harry!

Harry's eyes snapped open, but being directly below him Harry couldn't even look down to watch as he felt the cool metal pressing into his arm through the material of his robes, felt the pain as the knife cut through his arm and despite his desperate pulling to get away, blood ran free.

One of the reasons Lily had always claimed to be good at potions was because of the details. If it said the twelfth scale plucked from an occamy, then you'd better be sure you counted right or the whole thing could be in a mess. So her mind was left spinning off, wondering if Harry hadn't been tied down, if he hadn't struggled, could whatever this was be prevented? Of course it was too late now, whatever was happening was being done, but since her life goal was to insure this would not be happening to her baby so long as she lived, even for a moment it felt good to think of some way to prevent this.

His attempts weren't acknowledged, as a glass vial was pressed into the stream, and Wormtail staggered with his prize and let the droplets of blood splatter the surface. The whole thing turned the brightest of white, and his part done, Wormtail slumped to the ground, cradling his bleeding stump.

Remus couldn't find anything in himself to feel hatred for that rat, or even a selfish glee at his pain, or anything much except for how much he hated himself.

Harry could think of nothing anymore except for his silent prayers into the night for it all to have gone wrong.

Harry shook his head sadly at his younger self. This moment had felt imminent from the first time he'd heard Hagrid speak the name, that was a child's wish, one that Harry had never been granted.

It stopped as suddenly as it started, everything inside of the cauldron seemed to vanish and instead culminated in more steam streaming the area, and a dark figure was left standing in its midst. Still Harry kept begging of something, anything, for it all to have gone wrong.

Sirius had absolutely no emotion in his voice as he pleaded Harry's thoughts, there was not a shred of hope left among them to even pretend that could be happening.

A figure unfurled itself from the cauldron and stepped free, and commanded it was clothed. Wormtail sprung to, one handed as he fitted the previous robes over the tall figure. Then the face of nightmares turned and spotted Harry.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

They wished they could have been more surprised for that, tried to find some way to deny the heart pounding fear and misery they knew that would cause for the next foreseeable future, but considering they were currently living in the time where Voldemort reigned everywhere, that sentence just didn't have much of an impact on them other than the realization Harry was in the middle of that!

Sirius finished his chapter, but couldn't think of anything to say or do to show he had. His brain had shut down, it was too complicated to do more than keep a low growl resonating from his throat as his mind kept a single focus on who's fault all this was, which is why he was so thrown when Remus sobbed;

"My fault, it's all my fault!"

"Remus, you can't still be blaming yourself for him getting away!" Sirius snapped at once, he wasn't going to let him take blame for this any more than he would Harry, he'd been keeping half an eye on his pup this whole time to make sure he wasn't thinking the same, but so far he was mostly a frozen mask of shock. "I keep telling you, your sanity was more important to me than him, I'd make the same decision again in a heartbeat."

Remus clearly wasn't listening, burying his face in his hands and whispering that over and over again.

"Remus, Moony I'm begging you, if you know what that was, tell me." James begged, he was sick of listening to how one person kept ruining his life, but Remus talking like that was coming in a close second.

Remus kept his eyes tight shut, he couldn't bear to look at any of them, but somehow that nickname being used helped, it was still a symbol that meant more to him than he could put into words. He began whispering "I, well one time we got to looking up a ah, a cure for me." He was starting to shake uncontrollably, which hardly stopped when Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder, but he still kept going, "this was during the process of you guys trying to become animagus. H-he was having some difficulties with it, and he was really good at potions," he'd clearly directed that part at least at Harry, as all of them knew that. Maybe that's how he was even getting all of this out, he was building himself up to start trying to apologize to him, though none of them still understood why he was blaming himself, until he finished with.

"Well, we conned the Defense teacher into signing a book for us from the restricted section, it was a book on potions used for people who were, like me, suffering from, well things that they'd do anything to get out of their body for. We, we came across this one potion he really seemed to like, one that would give you a new body. Except, well I'd never seen such a disturbing potion. It required everything that was just mentioned, and no bleeding way was I going to consider hurting anyone to try and get this to work. Not to mention the bleeding thing could only be brewed at such a ridiculously specific time frame-"

"Would you stop! I'm more than confident Voldemort will have known about this potion all on his own, quit blaming yourself for everything," James insisted.

Remus wasn't exactly convinced, he still remembered back to that first chapter, and wondering why the rat hadn't deserted Voldemort as well. He must have had some knowledge of what was to come, insight into the plan of Voldemort's return, otherwise he should have abandoned that helpless little thing as surely as he had them. True that Voldemort could have somehow known about the potion another way, but the rat must have gone back to him with some form of a plan, something that would draw him back to his protector to ensure he'd stay just that.

Sirius still looked likely to force feed him this book if he didn't stop, so regardless of if he agreed, Remus stopped arguing the point. Sirius instead turned his attention on Harry when he realized this, and whispered, "It alright if I keep going pup? That chapter was over, and it's only going to get worse."

He was asking more for James than Harry though. This was clearly hurting him more than anything else, to continually realize what that traitor had done to his sons life. When Harry agreed though, and Prongs didn't say otherwise, Sirius forced himself to turn the page.

HPHPHPHP

*Loved this pointed out by nahte123456, but clearly by this point Harry was so into the Tournament it would have been silly not to at least try his all in this last one and go for a win. Plus, I have every confidence whoever did touch the Cup still would have been killed, and Fake-Eye would have just got Harry sent there at the closest moment, so...

#The Life That Never Lived #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Jilly #Marauders #GoF #HP #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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lovelystarlings · 4 years ago

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Chapter Five - Neville’s Very Clumsy

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The next morning was, eventful, to say the least. Camille had always been an early riser, her parents had insisted on her and sisters waking up at 5 am on the dot every morning, they had said it was to prepare them for when they themselves had families to wake up for but Camille knew it was just to torture them more then her parents already did. So when she woke up the next morning, wrapped in the velvety covers that they were provided, she felt a sense of tranquillity wash over her. There was no nagging mum leaning over her, no crying Gabrielle in the bed next to her and no annoying perfect Fleur singing in the shower for everyone to hear. It was quiet.

Just how she liked it.

Spinning her legs over the edge carefully, trying not to wake up the sleeping Hermione next to her, Camille walked over to the bathroom door that was left open on the opposite side of the strangely large dormitory.

Picking up her uniform on the way, Camille entered the bathroom quietly, looking around in awe at the extravagant manner of the simple room. On the wall facing the door stood four separate sinks, each having a mirror on the wall above and a small chest of drawers underneath them. Seeing as no one had claimed one yet, Camille chose the one closest to the shower, for once getting first choice of something. Placing her wash bag next to the sink, she carefully hung her uniform over the railing by the shower, not wanting to crease it straight away.

Grabbing her hairbrush out of her bag, she began to run it through her hair gently. Having slept with it in plaits had done her a huge favour, the usual straight and thick mess had been tamed into ringlets that now sat elegantly on her shoulders. Pinning her hair back with a clip, leaving the bottom layer down, Camille felt at peace with how she looked today. Sure, she wasn't as beautiful, after all she was only young, but she wasn't necessarily ugly (dear god did she hate that word), and that was enough.

Hearing movement from the room next her, and the familiarity of the other girls voices, she quickly pulled her shirt over her head and her skirt quickly over her hips, Camille turned to the door smiling at Hermione, who seemed shocked that someone was up before her.

"How are you up so early?" She spoke, her hand running through the bundle of curls that sat on top of her head. She walked over to the sink beside the French girl, placing her own stuff down gently.

"You know what they say," spoke Camille, brushing past Hermione with a smirk. "The early bird gets the worm."

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. It also didn't help that Camille knew where none of her classes were. And neither did Hermione, Or Ron. Or Harry.

Though after fumbling about the school for a long time they had managed to find most of their classes. And Camille had discovered a lot about her teachers.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Camille had noticed that Neville particularly enjoyed this one.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up, which didn't help Camille in the slightest considering she had no idea who either of them were.

Professor McGonagall had to be Camille's favourite, however. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and Camille had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione and Camille a rare smile, both girls giving each other a proud look as they linked arms and skipped off to the next lesson , leaving the boys and their matches far behind.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. Camille vaguely remembered her father telling Fleur (and Fleur told her) about an encounter he had with a vampire once, a very lovely vampire he had told her. His name was Carlisle, and he was a doctor. Camille had been shocked that a vampire could be a doctor, but her father had never lied to Fleur once.

Professor Quirrell's turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.

For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. Camille had befriended the Weasley Twins then and there, she thought they were charming and funny, and rather attractive if she was honest. They could well be veela, she thought, despite knowing that they were pure blood. She wondered what their mother and father looked like.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Camille and Hermione had been lucky enough to grab seats at the front, neither girls wanting to miss a thing. However, if Camille had known who their Professor was, she would've sat at the back, or even better out of the classroom.

His name was Professor Snape, and he was a tall man, who always seemed to be dressed in a black coat that billowed behind him like the wind itself followed him. His hair was pitch black and greasy, like it hadn't been watched in months, years even.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word, Hermione scribbling down most of it, the sound of her quill annoying Camille slightly, though she didn't say anything. She'd hate to insult the girl. Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sit," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Camille heard a loud noise behind her, and turned round to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, shaking with laughter, and she had to hide a snicker herself. The three looked like utter pillocks.

"I don't know, sir."

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling, despite Camille's attempts to calm her down, not wanting her friend to embarrass herself more than she had. She had the feeling someone was gonna snap, whether it be Harry or Snape.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Camille laughed harmoniously at the sass Harry held in his voice, drawing the attention of the class to her. She had forgotten that most of them had probably never heard veela laugh before, and hers probably had a strange effect on the bunch, considering the majority of them were pre-pubescent teenage boys.

"Sorry," she squeaked, and slumped down in her chair. Hermione patting her head patronisingly. Though she too felt strange at the heavenly sound that had escaped the French girl's mouth.

"Sit down and be quiet," he snapped at Camille. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment, though Camille had already been making her notes during the commotion. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Idiote, thought Camille. The poor boy had been living with muggles his whole life, how could Snape thing he'd know the simplest thing about potions. Idiote, she repeated.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy and Camille who had been paired with the blonde boy, the only two whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Camille flinched, seeing the hurt look on the poor boy's face, unlike Malfoy, or rather Draco as he had asked her to call him, who had laughed.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

Camille and Hermione left the dungeon as soon as they could, both wanting to avoid the catastrophe of cleaning up the spilled potion.

#harry #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hermione #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #fluff #hogwarts #veela #fleur delacour

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doyelikehaggis · 4 years ago

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Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Fleurdora/Delatonks | Nymphadora Tonks x Fleur Delacour

Requested by @halfthealphabet

The Order slowly trails into Grimmauld Place, one by one, all with the air of people living through a zombie apocalypse. Grim, weary expressions on every face.

Molly's bustling around as soon as she lays eyes on them, ushering them into the living room where the fire spreads a pleasant warmth into their bones. They certainly need it. Duelling a group of rogue Death Eaters is not exactly what any of them wanted to be doing at three in the morning, in the pouring rain.

Tonks is practically slumped as they join them, Fleur walking in beside them with Fred and Sirius somewhere behind.

"Damn fanatics," Moody growls, taking his frozen eye from its socket, motionless when it should be spinning.

"You'd think they'd have a bit of common sense considering their dark lord has been well and truly dead for a good year now," says George, flinging himself onto one of the crimson armchairs.

All of the old dark green ones (and pretty much everything that represented Slytherin, really) were thrown out by Sirius after the battle at the Ministry. Decided that if he was going to come that close to death at the hands of his own family again, he wasn't going to be stuck surrounded by constant reminders of them. Tonks happily helped him replace everything, since he needed someone who could actually leave the house. The tapestry is still proving to be a bit of a pain, but they've managed to rework it a bit, so it highlights the "disowned" and excluded members and has a majority of the blood-purists replaced with far more worthy members of the family they've created for themselves, or simply burned off instead.

Tonks shrugs their denim jacket off as Bill agrees. He looks the most tired out of them all, aside from Remus. He's not a full werewolf, but the full moon being only days away still seems to affect him almost exactly the same as it does for Remus, who becomes irritable and drained.

"They seem to think, he was "resurrected" to power once before, they can make it happen again," Bill says, shaking his head as he gingerly pulls his sleeve back to inspect the large patch of blood soaking through from a relatively deep cut; the work of a nasty jinx. "Too scared to desert after last time, in case he pops back up again and they land themselves on his bad side."

"They are idiotic," Fleur fumes. Her blouse has been severly singed around the collar and Tonks can't help but worry at a glimpse of blistering skin beneath it.

"Did you manage to get all of them?" Harry asks. "Anyone get away?"

Tonks had barely noticed he was there at all. He was just quietly watching in concern from a chair in the far right corner of the room, with Hermione in the one beside him next to the fire and Ron and Ginny between them, planted cross-legged on the floor. They seem like they were trying to keep Mrs Weasley distracted while the rest of them were out; now that Mr Weasley is back, her attention is fully captured, worrying over the cuts lining his face but with subtle relief shining in her eyes.

"Nearly," Sirius answers, with an undertone of bitterness as he adds, "One disapparated before we could get the bastard. Right after leaving me with this lovely little gift."

He grabs the collar of his shirt that's just as torn and burned and stained with blood as the rest of theirs, and yanks it down at the left to reveal a deep, long gash running right across his collarbone, stopping somewhere down his chest. It's not bleeding, but smoking. And it’s dark green rather than red.

There's an outburst of disgusted noises as well as gasps and a couple of cries.

"You git!" Tonks chides him, slapping his good arm lightly. "You never said they got you!”

"I didn't—you're—“ Sirius tries to say, sounding indignant, but he can't seem to find a good comeback.

Mrs Weasley's attention is immediately focused on him, pushing him towards the door into the kitchen before anyone can ask any further questions so that she can fix it up, something apparently too gruesome for any of them to bear witness.

"We'll catch him, don't worry," Bill says. The statement and the gentle smile seem to be aimed towards the kids. Having been advised to stay out of Order missions for the time being, to readjust and make up for their missed exams, they still look anxious, like they're going to be called up to fight at any moment.

But they seem to take some comfort in Bill's words. Everyone does; reassurances don't seem so false anymore now that missions like these are less common and haven't resulted in a fatal injury or even death since the Battle.

As the others fill Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in on what happened, able to joke a little more now that they're here and winding down from the fight, Tonks catches Fleur trying to assess the damage beneath her shirt as discreetly as possible.

Tonks moves over to her, gently catching her elbow and motioning her head to the door that Mrs Weasley and Sirius left through. They both leave the others in the room to head out into the hallway, where there is thankfully no longer the constant risk of setting off Walburga's shrieking portrait; took a while to find the right spells to remove it, but they managed in the end.

"Are you okay?'" Tonks asks, referencing the wound. "I didn't realize they'd got you. What did they hit you with?"

"I'm not sure," Fleur admits, but she's able to pull the corner of her shirt down better to get a proper look now that she's away from the rest of the Order. She winces, peeling the fabric from the wound, which sticks to it.

It comes away enough to reveal a marred patch of skin below her collarbone and spreading down far enough that it seems to have knocked the spell she usually has on right off.

"I thought something didn't feel right," Fleur says, and winces again when she lightly presses her fingers an inch from the area to test it.

Tonks grimaces in sympathy and only just manages to keep their hands away, having been instinctively going to reach out and offer some form of comfort that would probably only result in making it worse.

“Looks like a simple jinx,” says Tonks, “maybe even just a hastily fired Incendio. Seen a few people panic in duels before, just fire off the first thing that comes to mind. Luckily, it must have bounced off the spell already on you, else could it have been a lot worse than just burning your shirt and, well, this.”

Fleur agrees. “I am beginning to think I need a more permanent solution that that spell, though. It’s not exactly the most reliable, and, truthfully, I’ve never exactly been the best at Transfiguration.”

Tonks grins, pulling out their wand. “Ah, well, it’s not an essential subject.”

“Says the one who can change everything about their appearance at will,” Fleur retorts, but there’s a flicker of a smile on her face.

“True,” Tonks says, as Fleur carefully peels back a little more of her shirt. “But the mediwizards at St. Mungo’s do a pretty good job, too. I have a friend there, particularly skilled in more permanent solutions for trans wizards and witches, like I mentioned, if you wanted to give that another thought? Right, this counter spell.”

Fleur gives another grimace as Tonks points their wand a couple of inches from the wound. She steels herself though, pressing her lips into a line.

With the, thankfully right, incantation and wave of their wand, a small cloud of pale yellow settles over the burned skin. It clings around it for a moment long enough for Fleur to hiss slightly, then it sinks in and a new layer of skin forms over the top until it’s smooth.

Fleur lightly touches her skin, testing for any sign of pain. None seems to come. Her expression settles as she sighs, then a smile is back on her face.

“Thank you,” she says, lifting her eyes to Tonks.

“‘Course,” Tonks says, grin widening with a wink. “I’m your assigned Order partner, remember? I should have been covering you in the first place, especially as I’m also you’re... well, out of Order partner. There has to be a better way to say that.”

Fleur says nothing, just gazing fondly at them, her eyes twinkling. She lays a hand on Tonks’ arm and says, “I can look after myself. But I appreciate this. And the offer. I think I’m ready to take you up on it.”

Tonks smiles and nods. “Okay. Tomorrow, we can stop by, my friend should be in then. You wanna head home the now—“

At that moment, George pops his head around the corner, looks left down the corridor, then right.

“We’re crashing here. More rooms and all that,” George explains. “You two staying as well, or are we getting more coffee and Mum’s breakfast buffet to ourselves?”

Tonks scoffs immediately, then glances at Fleur, who rolls her eyes but nods in a silent confirmation. Turning back to George, Tonks says, “We’ll stay as well. I’m sure Sirius would say the more the merrier, right?”

Fleur makes a little noise, as if disagreeing, and George snorts. But they all make their way back in to join the rest of them, and Sirius and Mrs Weasley return shortly after, though with Sirius looking considerably paler and prodding at the now thin line standing out on his chest every few seconds then wincing. He doesn’t, in fact, mind some of them staying.

They remain in the living room for another hour or so, until the exhaustion kicks back in (or more accurately, when Ginny falls asleep and accidentally kicks an also sleeping Fred in the shin). Then they slowly split off to claim a guest room or head home. Tonks and Fleur takes the room reserved for Tonks’ visits, and are out cold within ten minutes.

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honouraryweasley12 · 5 years ago

Text

Hands-On Learning (NC-17)

I wrote this for a Romione fest that didn’t end up happening last year, but I was prompted to post it by @wildegreenlight. I’m SUPER rusty with my writing, so I hope it’s alright. The prompt for this fic was “Courage”.

Contains smut, so don’t read if you’re not interested in that kind of thing.

~*~

Her foot was tapping impatiently, despite the steady shiver of nerves running up and down her back.

She glanced first to her left, then her right, checking for the thousandth time that there was no one around. She had purposely picked the day of the Gryffindor/Slytherin match to execute her plan, knowing the castle would be emptied.

She'd once been accused of being a scarlet woman, and for the first time in her life, she felt as though it was warranted.

And she didn't care, not one bit.

Ironically, it was her accuser's youngest son who was the target of her... corruption.

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink and she licked her lips, imagining what was going to happen in mere minutes. She leaned back against the worn cushion and let out a slow breath, attempting to calm the hammering of her heart.

Was she really going through with it?

To distract herself, she surveyed the library from her spot. It was her favourite seat in her favourite place in Hogwarts, hidden away in the far back corner, amongst books covered in a thick layer of dust.

Next to her settee was a small table where her bag and supplies sat. She had been working diligently for a while—NEWTs weren't that far away—until she couldn't concentrate any further. If Ron only knew how easily he could distract her!

The silence was broken by the familiar creak of the heavy wooden library doors. She craned her neck and saw a flash of red hair, causing a pleasant flutter in her stomach. She missed him so much during their separation, despite his almost monthly visits.

His approach was obvious, his footfalls echoing in the cavernous quiet of the library. Hermione took a moment just to watch him, his too tight uniform stretched across his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up exposing his freckled forearms.

Ron stopped, a puzzled look on his face as he stared directly at her.

"Hermione?"

His hoarse whisper was met with silence as she continued gazing at him.

He stepped over to the desk and looked down. "This is her stuff," he said to himself. "Where is she? I promised Ginny we'd go watch her play. Hermione's note told me to meet her here."

He peered around the corner, greeted by more books, but no girlfriend. Hermione couldn't help but notice how good his arse looked in his old trousers.

He turned back to the couch and peered at it, sensing something was amiss. His eyes narrowed, as if she'd suddenly appear.

"Ron?"

He didn't respond.

"Good, it's working," Hermione said loudly.

Still no response. Hermione's lips curled up slowly, her plan about to come to fruition. She picked up her wand and made a few complicated movements.

The air shimmered for a split second, before revealing the brunette witch.

Ron leaped backwards and gasped. "Bloody hell, love!"

She giggled at the expression on his face, before jumping up from her seat and flinging herself into his open arms. He lifted her up, and their lips collided, mouths slightly open, hungry for one another. Hermione moaned as Ron sucked on her plump bottom lip, her hands tangled in his fiery locks.

They pulled away, chests heaving.

"Missed you," Ron said between breaths.

"Oh Ron, me too!"

Their eyes met. "Just a few months more, yeah?"

Hermione nodded. "I can't wait. As much as I love school, I miss you, and Harry, and everyone. Mostly, I just want to start my life outside of school—with you."

He gripped her tighter and held her close for a moment, before reluctantly setting her back down on her feet. She grasped his hand and led him to the sofa. Ron dropped down onto the middle and slung his long arm along the top.

As he got settled, Hermione again repeated the series of wand movements. If anyone was looking, the young couple would have disappeared, unable to be seen or heard.

"What was that for?"

She shrugged as she took a seat next to him, his arm pulling her to him. "Privacy."

"Erm, alright." He looked at her strangely. "There's no one here."

"I don't want to get caught."

"Oh, is that why you asked me to wear my uniform? Did someone complain to McGonagall? I swear I didn't know George had charmed my Wheezes robes to start shouting about the latest products during my last visit."

Her cheeks flushed. "No, it wasn't because of that."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "What's going through that big brain of yours?"

Now was her chance to be bold. She just hoped he wouldn't laugh at her.

She shifted in her seat, leaning against the armrest, his arm loose around her. "I asked you to wear the school robes because I was hoping you would help me with something."

His copper eyebrows furrowed. "Of course, but what does that have to do with my uniform?"

She tried to swallow; her mouth suddenly dry. Her voice dropped, timid. "Well, you see... I... I have... I have... this fantasy."

Ron's eyes immediately went wide and he pulled her close again. "Go on."

"I used to sit here sometimes when I was done my work, and daydream about you. How good you looked in your uniform and how badly I wanted to..."

"Wanted to what?"

"Wanted to touch you. Wanted to feel you." She paused and gulped hard, opening her eyes to stare intensely at his, doing her best to mask her vulnerability. "How I wanted to... control you."

His mouth dropped open, the milliseconds feeling like hours to Hermione.

"Say something!"

"Bloody brilliant!"

"Really?" She asked, flabbergasted. She'd been expecting a much different reaction.

"Oh, yes. Do you... do you know how many times I've wanked to bossy Hermione?"

She glanced down and could see a prominent bulge straining against his trousers. She couldn't help but reach out and slowly run a fingertip along his length, causing him to jump slightly.

"Mmmm," she groaned. "I have a very specific fantasy, in fact. I think you're going to like it. Do I have your permission?"

Ron nodded his head vigorously. "Fuck, do whatever you want." He began to reach for his belt buckle, but she promptly slapped his hand away and placed her own hand on his chest.

"You won't do anything unless you're told. Understood?" She felt a surge throughout her whole body with her commanding words.

"Yes."

"It would always start like this, us sitting together here on this settee. In my dreams you would try to hide your arousal from me... but it was rather obvious."

She leaned into his chest, running her other hand up the inside of his thigh to his bulge, this time softly gripping him through the cloth. He let out a low groan. She felt how hard he was, constrained and now controlled.

By her.

The very thought of having her lanky, far stronger, ginger-haired boyfriend at her whim sent a shudder of electricity right to her core.

She looked up at him, his blue eyes afire with want. Her eyes never leaving his, she slid her fingers up to his zipper, pulling the tab agonizingly slowly, tooth-by-tooth until it was all the way down. Her slender fingers slid into the opening, one layer away from his bare flesh.

A dark spot of precum was already visible against his grey pants, showing her how much he was enjoying her fantasy.

She began stroking him again. "Have you figured it out yet? My fantasy?"

He shook his head, staring down at where her hand was. "Shite, keep that up. Feels fucking amazing."

She smirked and found the opening in the front of his underwear. Her fingertips grazed his hot skin, his low moan vibrating in his chest. She gently pulled him out through his fly, exposing him.

"What are you—"

"This was my fantasy, Ron. To feel you in my hands. To..." She stopped and blushed. "To get you off, here in the library."

"Are you joking? You really fantasized about wanking me here?"

She nodded before slowly stroking him, his long, thick cock standing proudly as her small hand ran up and down.

"Mmmm... I have to say, your...wand... is much bigger than I dreamed about. The books I read on human sexuality certainly didn't—"

"Hold on, you read sex books? Why am I not surprised? What else—"

"Quiet!"

She moved her hand from his chest and clamped it over his mouth, causing them both to groan at her sudden aggressiveness.

Hermione squirmed, her arousal growing as she continued her attentions on his hard cock. She slid her hand back down into his trousers, cupping his bollocks, before sliding her hand up, all the way to his large head in long, slow, deliberate motions. She could feel every throb and jerk as he thrust into her hand.

"Do you like seeing my hand around your cock?"

Ron nodded and mumbled something into her hand. His hand, which had been gripping her side, moved up to her breast.

"No touching yet!"

"Mmmph," was his only reply. He instantly let go and tucked his hand behind his head. He slumped, his legs spread wide, completely at her mercy.

She began to pick up the pace. Seeing his pale cock in the open as her small hand jerked him off, against the backdrop of his dark trousers, caused her another wave of arousal. She started grinding against his thigh, her breathing becoming faster. She leaned forward in anticipation.

"Fuck, touch me now!"

His arm snaked behind her back, down to her waist, pushing past the waistband of her skirt. He delved greedily into her damp knickers, his two long fingers finding her clit. He began rubbing in slow circles, causing her to cry out.

Her hand was erratic around his throbbing dick as they pleasured each other in the sacred confines of learning which surrounded them.

Hermione removed her hand from his mouth and tangled it in his hair, pulling his head back roughly. The cord of his neck was far too tempting; she couldn't help but run her tongue along it. He pressed into her heated core, drawing another wail of ecstasy.

Her hand was a blur now, up and down. "I want to hear you. I want you to scream my name."

"Fuck! Hermione! I'm so fucking close."

"Get your fingers in me," she begged. "Please, do it, love!"

His long digits entered her wet centre, plunging in and out. She let out a scream as she rode his hand. He was thrusting his hips wildly into her grip.

Hermione was far past the point of her normal decorum, lust and fantasy fueling her thoughts and words. "I want to see you spunk! I want to watch you get off from my hand."

This was too much for Ron to take. "Fuck, Hermione! Slow down, I... I'm fucking coming!"

Hermione, consumed by him, watched as rope after rope of thick spunk shot out of his cock, falling on his shirt, trousers, and covering her hand. Having her fantasy come to life drove her over the edge, aided by Ron's fingers.

"Roooooonnnnn!"

She managed to scream out as she convulsed, her vision darkening momentarily from the impact of her orgasm. She slumped against Ron, boneless. His harsh breaths gently rocked her. She felt him press a kiss into her bushy locks, and she smiled, satiated.

Their heartbeats slowed, nestled in their little cocoon. The minutes stretched out as they relaxed, blissful.

"I can see why the protective charms were needed. That was rather intense."

She looked up, still shy about the whole thing. "It wasn't too much?"

"To be honest, I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my life."

"That was so hot. Knowing I can cause that."

Ron laughed. "You've been causing it for years, you just didn't know it. You're welcome to cause that any time."

"Smug prat."

"But I'm glad..." he began haltingly. "I'm really glad that we can do these things, together. You know, learn and grow with each other. It's one of the things I love most about us, that we can be totally open and honest... finally."

She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly shining from his words. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

After a few more moments of closeness they managed to clean themselves up, and with the aid of a few spells, removed any trace if their activities.

The air shimmered once again, revealing the couple.

Hermione sighed, and went to gather up her books. "I suppose we should go down to the match now. Your sister will be disappointed if we're not there."

"Harry's there, so she probably won't even notice us." Ron suddenly froze, looking as if he was trying to figure something out in his head.

"Ron? What is it?"

He spoke slowly, delight blossoming across his face as he smiled. "Well, if everyone is at the match, the changing rooms will be empty."

"And?"

"Let me tell you about a little fantasy of my own..."

#smut #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #ron x hermione

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im-up-to-no-good · 5 years ago

Text

I solemnly swear ( Part 6 )

Summary: Y/N Potter is the twin-sister of James Potter and the current teacher for Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts during Harry's third year.

As the news of Sirius Black breaking out ouf Azkaban start to spread, her life is turned upside down as it gets harder and harder to keep their feelings for each other hidden in the dark.

What will happen when Harry finds out about his aunt's long kept secret?

A/N: I finally did it. I promise you won’t have to wait this long again for the next part, I’ll try my best to work on it soon! If you want to be part of the taglist, please feel free to tell me. I’ll be happy to add you!

I’d be glad if you leave some constructive criticism, thoughts, whatever you want to do, so I can improve my writing. Enjoy the new part!

Word count: 2376

________________

You tried your very best to ignore these last few minutes and your argument with Harry, but his last words just didn't seem to leave your mind.

Liar.

Traitor.

It was hard for you to repeat these things inside of your head but you knew pretty well that he had a point with that. You lied to him all those years. And you lied to yourself too even if you thought that your intentions were good. He had every right to be confused or mad because of you. In the end you kind of were the problem.

It didn't take long for you to leave Hogsmeade behind of yourself but with every minute passing it seemed as if it would get harder and harder for you to walk on the snowy pathway.

You tried your best to keep walking but within a short amount of time the whole weather changed completely as if someone suddenly pulled a lever. The sun disappeared behind a thick layer of clouds while everything around you went out of control. There were no longer snowflakes falling silently from the sky, but a storm that cut into your skin like cold little knives. The wind blew faster every second now and your feet could barely keep you on the ground. You kneeled down instinctively and tried to shield your eyes with one of your arms. You tried to concentrate to find a way out of this mess, unfortunately you could barely even see your own hand in front of you. Your gaze wandered around until you could finally make out a silhouette a bit away from you, but you couldn't quite identify what it was.

Not until a loud growl pervaded the storm.

Your eyes widened and you took out your wand immediately. You knew that sound and you knew what was going on, or at least you thought you did. You raised up your wand, looked at the sky and shouted.

"Finite Incantatem!"

As soon as these words left your mouth the storm seemed to fade away almost instantly. Everything went back to normal as if nothing happened in the first place. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and stood up again, your whole body slightly shaking from the cold consuming you. You looked around yourself until your eyes got stuck on the silhouette you saw just a few moments before. Now you could see it as clear as day and your grip on your wand tightened.

There he was.

Dirty and disheveled, hiding behind an animalistic mask. You stared into his eyes in pure shock and anger, but all you could see was pain and sadness looking back at you.

"Sirius.."

Your voice was barely above a whisper right now, but you were sure that he heard you loud and clear. He laid down on the ground carefully to show you that you didn't need to be scared of him, like he did the first time when you found out about his little secret, but you couldn't help the mistrust inside of yourself. And you were sure he could sense it as he lowered his head, followed by a silent whine.

You lowered your wand resistantly and slowly made one step into his direction, but as soon as you did so he jumped back onto his feet and ran away. You couldn't process what was happening until you heard a voice shouting your name behind of you.

You turned around to see McGonagall running into your direction, concern covering her whole face.

"Y/N! Y/N, dear, are you alright?"

You stared at Minerva as if she was a ghost and she understood immediately what was going on inside of your head. She swallowed hard before she patted you on the back and pulled you towards the carriage you were driving with earlier.

You sat down almost mindlessly, a blank look on your face. She covered your body with a blanket and took a seat across from you after that. You shook your head slowly and looked into her eyes. You didn't know how to talk about this situation. Maybe because you really didn't know what exactly was going on.

You knew for sure that someone used magic to manipulate the weather but for you it didn't appear as if Sirius was the one who put you in danger. Why would he stay there if he was the one responsible for this storm? It all just didn't make sense to you. And maybe this was the reason why you felt so helpless right know. You always knew an answer. You weren't the one to be speechless. But here you were, fighting to find the right words to say.

"Y/N, did you hear what I said?"

You shook your head apologetically before you looked into Minerva's worried eyes again.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't. Would you mind repeating it?"

She forced a small smile and nodded shortly after.

"It seems as if someone tried to harm you on purpose today, Y/N. This storm appeared out of nowhere."

"And it was all confined to my whereabouts, right?"

She nodded simultaneously and continued talking.

"I'm certain we both know who tried to end what he began a long time ago."

"We don't know for sure Minerva. I can think of one or two other people out there who would love to see me injured or even worse."

"You have to take this matter seriously, there's nothing funny about what happened."

She put her hand on your shoulder and forced a smile again.

"I believe it's better now if you take a rest until we get back. You don't look too good, dear."

You wanted to disagree with her but you could feel how exhausted you were. You pulled the blanket closer to your body and closed your eyes for a short amount of time. Well, at least you thought so.

You woke up in your own bed again. Confusion spread on your face as you saw the time on the clock beside of you. It was almost midnight by now. You slowly sat up and shook your head in disbelief, how could you possibly fade out for so long?

Right as you wanted to stand up you felt a hand on your shoulder which gently pushed you down into a sitting position again.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Just now you finally noticed that Remus was standing right next to your bed. He was probably waiting the whole time for you to wake up.

"How long have you been here?"

He smiled at you before he gave an answer.

"Exactly for how long you've been asleep. I wanted to get an explanation from your own perspective, not from Minnie's."

You could see the concern in his eyes even if he tried to hide it behind a joke. You laid down on your bed again and gestured for him to join you. You both stared at the ceiling for another minute before you finally felt ready to summarize these happenings.

"Well, were do I start? Harry used the invisibility cloak to go to Hogsmeade today, even if I told him to stay here at Hogwarts. One thing led to another and he found out about Sirius."

You paused for a second before you found the words to continue.

"He ran into the woods afterwards and I followed straight after him. As soon as I finally caught up, he confronted me with all the things he heard during my conversation with Minerva and told me that he hates me for that."

Remus turned to look at you sadly but your gaze was still lingering on the ceiling.

"I ignored it as best as I could. I told him to go back to Hogwarts and started to make my way back on my own. I just needed to get my head clear. That's when the weather freaked out."

Now it was your turn to look at Remus who had a puzzled look on his face.

"The weather changed all of a sudden?"

"That's the part where all their precious theories begin."

You forced a laugh and Remus couldn't help but join in.

"Let me guess. Minerva is sure that Sirius is responsible for the things that happened to you but you still can't get yourself to believe the same?"

You nodded your head.

"At least he's not the only one out there who would know a charm like that."

"I know you still have hope that he is innocent, so I won't start an argument again. But please promise me one thing. Please don't underestimate him. You have to be more careful, Y/N."

You stared at him as his words slowly settled in, but a reassuring smile spread on your lips soon after that. You both sat up again and you hugged him.

"I know what I'm doing. I promise."

He let go of you and stood up again.

"You should go back to sleep, you still seem to be a little bit weak. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Good night, Remus."

He walked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind himself. You laid down again and closed your eyes, slowly falling back to sleep.

________________

"Come on Y/N/N, just one prank."

"Sirius, please, I'm trying to learn over here."

Sirius walked back and forth in front of your bed since about twenty minutes now, madly trying to get you out of your dorm room to prank the Slytherin's.

"Then you shouldn't have asked me to spend some time with you today."

You put your book down and stood up, leaning against the frame of your bed.

"I didn't. I said I'll try to learn for the test we'll write in less than a week and you just said no and followed me upstairs."

He opened his mouth to protest but the right words didn't seem to get out of it. And he knew it pretty well as a small superior smile slowly appeared on your face.

"I've won padfoot."

"I won't give up so easily, princess."

He walked past you and made himself comfortable on your bed while you were just standing there watching him.

"And you believe that this is helpful to convince me?"

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and sat down opposite him. He watched you carefully before he continued.

"I just need to distract you as long as I can until you don't want to look into this stupid book anymore."

He grinned victoriously but so did you too as you put out your wand.

"Accio."

He lost his grip on the book and you easily took it.

"Oh please, love. You had better ideas than that."

He looked at you dumbfounded as these words left your mouth but he found his cool manner back again real quick. He leaned forward and took your hand without any kind of hesitation.

"Y/N Euphemia Potter."

You squinted your eyes, not knowing what he was about to do now.

"I would be honored to have you as my loyal companion in this next prank. I'm sure I'll need your shining brilliance and lack of following the rules to get out of this succesfully."

He made a dramatic pause and stood up, you following suit as he still hold onto your hand.

"Will you join me, your majesty?"

You shook your head while holding back your laughter as he bowed in front of you.

"You're unbelievable."

He bit his bottom lip and waited for you to answer his question. You rolled your eyes and smiled.

"How could I possibly say no to that."

Now it was his turn to smile at you mischievously and he put one arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side.

"Listen carefully my love, you will never ever hear another idea as good as this one."

You turned your head to look at him and waited for him to explain his plan but at the same time you heard the door open behind of you both.

"Y/N/N have you seen Padfoot by any chance?"

You both turned around as James walked into the room, followed by Remus and Peter. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Sirius’ arm around your shoulder.

"You're a little too close to my sister, mate."

Sirius let go of you almost instantly as if he got bitten by snake, but nevertheless succeeded to let it look casual. You looked down at the ground and smiled to yourself.

"We have a lot of work to do, let's go."

You made your way to the door and dragged Peter and James with you. Remus and Sirius still didn't leave their spot.

"What were you doing here, Padfoot? We've searched the whole school for you."

Remus crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at Sirius, a slightly annoyed look on his face.

"Sorry Moony, I just needed to involve Y/N/N in our next prank, you're all going to love it!"

"Sure, that's all you wanted to do here, lovebird."

Sirius glared at Remus who couldn't help but smirk at his reaction.

"Are you out of your mind, she could hear you!"

But you were already walking down the stairs, oblivious to what was happening behind of yourself.

As you reached the common room you turned around to look at James.

"I still have one question before we can start this prank."

Remus and Sirius joined you three and waited for you to continue.

"Padfoot said I will never ever hear another idea as good as this one. So what exactly are we going to do?"

They all started to smile mischievously and you started to wonder if you really wanted to hear the plan. Sirius put his arm around your shoulder again, not minding James this time, and dragged you to the entrance of the common room.

"We'll start in the Slytherin common room."

"You don't say."

"Sh, don't Interrupt me."

You hold back a laugh and waited for him to end his little dramatic speech.

"And then we do nothing more than intervene a little in the weather."

taglist: @frederikkeborup @puppetofyourdreams @avengersassemblee

#harry potter #marauders era #sirius black x reader #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans #peter pettigrew #i solemnly swear i am up to no good #harry potter fanfiction #minerva mcgonagall

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years ago

Text

Alone Time

*Not my Gif*

Request: Could I request a hufflepuff!reader x Remus?? I cant ever find this and I would adore reading one. Maybe where one or both are pining for the other? Maybe reader is a student but volunteering to help Madam Pomfrey to gain some extra credits? Thank you so much, no matter which you do! Love your writing!!

Requested By: @serenefreakgeek

Post Date: 11-8-19

Paring: Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I know it’s in 3rd person which is very different from my normal writing but I already wrote like the idea in 3rd and was to lazy to change it so oh well 😂

~Master List~

~Harry Potter Master List~

Remus moaned as he sat in the hospital bed, his recent transformation really taking the toll on him as he tried not to move his face. He could hear his friends voices just outside the room but he had no motivation to let them in. Even though his best friends had seen him after his transformation loads of times, it didn’t make things any easier. His eyes fluttered close with another groan as he tried to keep his face still as to not disturb the healing new scar from his left brow to the bottom of his chin.

He was only laying for a few minutes before taking a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lavender and roses which calmed his running thoughts. When he opened his eyes, he saw such a sight that froze him, staring in awe at the Y/H/C haired girl in front of him. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun, a few runaway hairs draping her face as she searched the drawers next to him, completely unaware of his gaze. Remus heard a soft melody come from her lips, the subtle way she was nodding accompanying her humming made the strands in her face bounced before she smoothed them down.

“Oh! You’re awake!” She chirpped when her eyes landed on Remus who couldn’t speak, only opening and closing his mouth. Her lips turned up into a soft smile, no doubt enjoying the dazed look on his face which Remus swore mimicked a fish. “Here.” She reaches over him, grabbing a cup of water from the bedside table and handing it to him. “Drink up.”

Remus took the cup gratefully, downing it almost as quick as he got it as the girl stifled a giggle. Remus met her eyes with wonder, and a little caution, as he sat up. “Who are you?”

Her eyes widened, taking a step back as she realized her mistake. “Oh, sorry. I’m Y/N, I work with Madam Pomfrey here.” Remus furrowed his brows.

She works here? She looked his age, in fact she looked to be in his year. Y/N noticed the boys confusion and quickly clarified. “I just volunteer here. Best experience to get to be a healer.”

He nodded his head, suddenly feeling stupid for his confusion before he stuck his hand out. “I’m Remus.”

The girl giggled again and Remus felt the corners of his mouth turn up without his permission. “I know. I’ve seen you around. Everyone knows you and your friends.” She gave him a sheepish smile as he blushed, ducking his face away. The moment he moved his face he remembered why he was here in the first place and his smile fell, keeping his head pointed down and away from her. Y/N felt her heart dwindle a little at the boys unwanted desire to be seen. “Well,” she exclaimed, inwardly wincing at how loud her voice came out. She put a hand on Remus’ arm, silently apologizing as Remus looked up to her eyes again. “You have to be living under a rock not to know of you and your friends-“

Her sentence was drowned out by the yells of Remus’ friends barreling into the room and to his bedside. “Moony! You’re awake!” Sirius cheered as Remus looked between them all. He ignored his friends complaints about not being allowed in until he woke up as he looked for her, but it seemed when he friends entered she had left and Remus found himself disappointed at the loss of her smile.

The following days Remus spent trying to find her, scanning through crowds just to catch a glimpse of her Y/E/C orbs, but every time he did Y/N was surrounded by friends. He could hear her laughs across the room and one time he almost want up to her.

Then more of her friends showed up.

He gave up with a sigh, slumping in his spot across the great hall next to Sirius.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sirius asked as he nudged Remus’ arm out from under his resting chin. Remus didn’t even move. “Moony?” Sirius waved a hand in front of his friend, who finally tore his gaze away.

“What?” He said receiving a raised eye from Sirius. He followed where Remus was staring off at before landing on her group.

“Ok, which one?” Sirius grinned as he scanned over her friends, taking in the sight as Remus groaned.

“The Y/H/C one. Y/N. The Hufflepuff?” He refrained from pointing at Y/N, not wanting to draw her attention to him. Sirius found her quickly.

“She was your nurse!” He exclaimed with a pat on the back and Remus blushed, hiding his face in his hands as he prayed the girl hadn’t heard him. Luck was on his side as Y/N remained engaged with her friends and Remus wasted no time in slapping Sirius in the arm. “Ow! What the bloody hell was that for?!”

“She wasn’t my nurse. She just volunteers with Madam Pomfrey.” Sirius gave him an eye roll, focusing back on Y/N with a hint of curiosity.

“So what’s so special about her?” He asked and shrugged, receiving a scoff from Remus.

“Are you kidding me? Look at her! She’s gorgeous and funny and kind and... she didn’t run away when she saw my...” Remus hesitates before gesturing to his face covered with scars as Sirius tried to hide the frown on his face. He took a glance back at Y/N.

“Well, why haven’t you asked her out yet?” Sirius wore a sly smirk as Remus let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’ve tried talking to her! Every time I do she’s surrounded!” He waved a hand around to each of the girls in the group, eyes lingering very quickly on her before getting up to leave. Sirius finished off the last of his food and scampered after Remus.

Remus was already half way to their common room by the time Sirius caught up a little out of breath from his run. “She wasn’t surrounded last time.” Sirius pointed out to Remus who suddenly stopped in his tracks, letting his head fall.

“In the hospital wing? She volunteers there Padfoot, I can’t wait until the next full moon just to talk to Y/N.” Sirius grabbed onto Remus’ arm when he started walking again, making him stop once again.

He turned his head towards Sirius. “Who said anything about waiting?” Remus’ eyes widened only momentarily following Sirius back to the common room.

Y/N made her way through Hogwarts, a skip in her step as she approached the doors to the hospital wing. There was a slight ruckus inside which alarmed her but she pushed the worries away when she opened the door. Four boys she quickly recognized sat in each of the bed, Madam Pomfrey running between each of them, muttering things Y/N couldn’t hear as she approached the woman.

“Oh thank heaven you’re here!” Madam Pomfrey cries as she pulled Y/N in for a hug, quickly releasing and handing her a washcloth. “Here, use this on those two!”she pushed the girl towards the two boys in opposite beds by the door. Y/N felt the slight flutter of her heart when she turned towards the shaggy blond haired boy occupying her assigned bed.

“You’re back.” She stated without thinking, immediately wanting to take back the comment when she saw the blush creep across Remus’ face. She walked over to him, gently cleaning off the blue goo covering his skin with a disgusted look. “What is this?”

Remus helped her, moving his shirt a little for her to remove the blue goo on his arm as he shivered. “I don’t actually know. It was Sirius’ idea.” Remus muttered, making Y/N furrow her brow. She was about to ask what he meant before a strained voice came across the room.

“Nurse! I could use some help!” Sirius threw his hand toward Y/N, shaking it and getting her attention. Y/N tried not to let herself look disappointed as she went over to Sirius, glancing back at Remus one more time.

Remus watched as Y/N wiped away the gross substance off of Sirius, uncovering a layer of blue skin that Remus hadn’t saw before. Y/N gasped, wiping away more and more before realizing whatever this stuff was it was changing their skin to a light blue. She checked on Remus, the boys face slightly lit up when Y/N came near and she noticed, sharing a smile before cleaning him up again. Remus was just about to talk again before Sirius groaned, followed by James then Peter and soon Remus realized that even though they were away from her friends they were still surrounded by his friends. He knew that this plan had failed and he couldn’t get the chance to talk to her much then.

With the extensive help of Y/N and Madam Pomfrey, Everyone was better by the end of the day. Y/N was exhausted, yet she choose to skip dinner and help Madam Pomfrey clean up and set everything back into place. Madam Pomfrey has just run out to grab something and Y/N was almost finished when the door was opened and for a second Y/N was about to groan in exhaustion before seeing Remus walk into the room.

She smiled, setting down the rag she was using with her wand and turning towards the door.

“Hi.” Remus whispered, running his hands on his pants in an attempt to calm his mind. Y/N just leaned back onto the counter she was on, a tilted head as she watched Remus.

“Hey, What are you doing here? Is some of your skin still blue?” Her eyes were big as she scanned over his body, checking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.

Remus let out an airy chuckle, “No, no I’m all back to normal.” It made Y/N giggle and gave Remus all the confidence he needed. “I was wondering if you’d want to come to Hogsmeade with me sometime-“

“Y/N dear!” Both Y/N and Remus spun towards the door where Madam Pomfrey had just thrown it open. She started on about an emergency in the courtyard and needing all these medical supplies that Remus hadn’t ever heard of but it seemed like Y/N had as she gathered as much as she could, giving Remus a large smile and hurrying out of the room after Madam Pomfrey. Once again, Remus’ plans were thwarted by an interruption but at least he got the question out. That’s when Remus realized even though he asked her the question, she didn’t respond. He kicked the bed next to him, sending it rolling a little right before the door swung open and he heard her voice.

“For the record,” she said in the large room as Remus spun to face her. She wore a smile so big he never would’ve thought it was possible. “I would love to go to Hogsmeade with you Remus Lupin.” Remus nodded his head rather comically as Y/N let out another fit of giggles and finally left to go catch up with Madam Pomfrey. Remus just stood there in shock, the corners of his lips turning up as he pumped his fist in front of him. Now he has a date with her, he just needs to make sure nobody interrupts and they can finally get some alone time.

Feedback is welcomed 😊

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#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #remus lupin #remus x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #moony x reader #moony imagine #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #moony

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twoontheaisle · 5 years ago

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Bay Area Theatre 2019 - the Top 10

Friends, Bay Area residents, theatre lovers, lend me your clicks, for we are about to look back at the best of local theatre in the past 12 months. (Or, at least the best I was able to see. With some 300+ local companies, it’s impossible for anyone to see everything.)

Usually I do this one post at a time, building anticipation for which show will take the top spot on the list. This year, we’re binging - you get it all at once.

#10 - “King of the Yees” at San Francisco Playhouse

Here’s a tip for successful theatre-going: if Francis Jue is in it, buy a ticket. Jue was one of the reasons Soft Power made last year’s list (and went on to a successful run in New York), and he was just as good in this very San Francisco story of a Chinese family and its crazy lovable patriarch. A charming look at parental expectations in the Chinatown culture.

My full review is here.

#9 - “Seascape” at American Conservatory Theatre

Edward Albee was a master at recreating the language of relationships, and he was never better at it than with this odd work about a newly-retired couple who squabble (gently) on a beach - until they are interrupted by the appearance of two scaled sea creatures (another squabbling couple) who show interest in leaving behind the life aquatic and evolving into land-dwellers. James Carpenter and Ellen McLaughlin were brilliant - and so was David Zinn’s spectacular dunescape set.

Full review is here.

#8 - “American Psycho” by Ray of Light Theatre

Ray of Light does only three shows a season, but this seems to give them the focus they need to do them exceptionally well - especially for a relatively small company with limited budget. American Psycho, based on the novel by Bret Easton Ellis, was just as stunning in its own way as last season’s Top 10 honoree from Ray of Light, Hedwig and the Angry Inch. But whereas that Hedwig was a rough-edged look at a down-on-her-luck trans rock star, playing a seedy venue (which made RoL’s home, the seedy Victoria Theater, the perfect place for it to play), American Psycho was all about Manhattan glitz, opulence and wealth. The cast was terrific and the show was bloody fun - in multiple senses of “bloody” and “fun.”

Click here for the full review.

#7 - “Rhinoceros” at American Conservatory Theatre

As I said in my review, if I’d seen this play pre-Trump, I might not have appreciated its razor-sharp satire on the dangers of group-think and conformity in an age of authoritarianism. It would just have seemed creaky and odd. But in our times, and in this splendid production from artistic director Pam McKinnon (and director Frank Galati), the tale of a small town where everyone starts turning into rhinoceroses was simultaneously frightening, insightful and hysterical.

My full review is here.

#6 - Mother of the Maid" at Marin Theatre Company

Pretty much every take on the story of French hero Joan of Arc focuses on the teen girl who claimed visions of saints and led France’s armies to some key victories in the Hundred Years’ War. But in Jane Anderson’s moving play, we see Joan’s story from the point of view of the mother who tries to protect her daughter from the world’s dangers - just as all good parents do, and too often tragically fail at.

Click here for the full review.

#5 - “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” at The Curran

This is scheduled to run in San Francisco (the only place it’s playing outside of London and New York) for two years - though rumor mill has it ticket sales aren’t meeting expectations. Still, I loved it - especially for its stunning stagecraft and theatrical illusions. If you haven’t read all the books, you will still likely enjoy the adventures of a grown-up Harry Potter (and his son, Albus), but I’d recommend perusing Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, as it does the best job of preparing you for this extension of the Potterverse.

The full review is here.

#4 - “Becky Nurse of Salem” at Berkeley Rep

There are very few shows I see that I’d be willing to sit through again immediately (the way I sometimes used to sit for another showing of a movie when I was a boy - and when that sort of thing was allowed), but Becky Nurse of Salem is one of them, due to its multi-layered look at fanaticism, feminism, family, history... Its threads intertwine and unravel and reweave themselves in ways both fascinating and funny. Plus, Pamela Reed was a marvel, creating a character we both love and judge.

The full review can be found here.

#3 - “The Jungle” at The Curran

Carole Hays must love renovations, for she’s done it three times with her beloved Curran. Most recently, the entire theater was redone for Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, and Carole spent a couple of years (and millions of dollars) remaking the space after she purchased it initially.

For The Jungle, a tale of the refugee camp that sprung up near Calais, France, she pulled all the seats from the main floor of the theater, turning it into a simulacrum of the camp, complete with different areas for refugees from different countries: Syria, Afghanistan, Somali and others. A working kitchen was installed, producing fresh, hot naan and chai that were served to attendees. (At least some attendees, I missed out and was peeved when the person next to me let their slice of naan sit there and get cold.)

The experience was immersive and thrilling.

Full review here.

#2 - “The Good Book” at Berkeley Rep

The Good Book was nothing if not ambitious, aiming to tell the story of the origins of the Bible and its impact on worlds both modern and ancient - but it succeeded mightily. Staged with tremendous energy and passion by director Lisa Peterson (who also co-wrote the show with actor Denis O’Hare), The Good Book had me enthralled from start to finish.

Read my full review here.

#1 - “Cabaret” at SF Playhouse

One of my all-time favorite shows, and SF Playhouse’s production is my all-time favorite staging of it, edging out the production I saw at Studio 54 in New York with Alan Cumming as the Emcee and Michelle Williams as Sally Bowles. Simply put, Marin native Cate Hayman put Williams to shame with a performance that was heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time. Everything about this production was top-notch: set, lighting, direction (by Susi Damilano), music - plus every performance.

It’s no wonder it grabbed the number one spot.

Full review is here.

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punishandenslavesuckers · 6 years ago

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Mollymauk Tealeaf wakes up in a grave by the road ten years after he died. Things have gone a bit wrong since then and he might be the only one who can set things right… since it’s the Mighty Nein themselves who’ve gone wrong. AU: Where Molly comes back to yell at his super-powered Level 20 friends. (AO3 - part1) (AO3 - part 2) (AO3 - part3) (AO3 - part4)

Molly hits the ground. Not hard, but he hits the ground, like someone dropped him gently. The grass cushions his head, presses into the nape of his neck. For a moment he lies there blinking. The air’s warm, his jacket pooled underneath him, his fingers slack in the silk and embroidery, one knee bent up while he lies there breathing. A silver bowl of moonlight hangs full in the sky above him and the sight feels so familiar, so comforting, Mollymauk feels a sting suddenly of homesickness and relief he hadn’t been previously aware of.

He sits up slowly.

There’s a person with long black hair sitting cross-legged at his feet. They’re hauntingly pale, beautiful, and familiar. Their armor bristles with raven feathers and shines in places but consumes the light in others. Their cloak gathers as shadow on the ground beneath them and they’re looking at Molly with an expression he interprets, faintly, as the sorrow of bystanders. A helpless empathy. When Molly just stares blankly at them for a full ten seconds, they get up and move to kneel beside him. When he doesn’t knowledge the move, the stranger touches his shoulder. Gently. Like they might brush a wound.

“Hey,” says the stranger.

“What happened?” Molly rasps. He presses palm to his face, realizes there are tears on his cheeks. “Shit.” Molly wipes the dampness with the back of one hand, swallowing. “Why did he do that?”

“I don’t know,” says the stranger. “But I’m sorry.”

“Heh, I thought I was supposed to fix things.” He reverses his hand, finishes drawing off his tears with the heel of his palm. “He looked… he knew I was me. I could see he – fuck.” Molly drops his face briefly into his hands, breathes, drops his arms again. “What the hell was I supposed to do?”

The stranger shakes his shoulder until he looks up at them. Their eyes are dark, holding his gaze fully, drawing him in with physical gravity that pulls Molly’s head to the left. They touch the side of his face with the back of two fingers and before Molly can wonder what they’re doing… the façade buckles a little. Their brow knits with a phantom pain.

“Do you want to stop?” they ask.

“What?”

“I’m your guide and your guardian, Mollymauk Tealeaf. I can do either. Just say which.” And when Molly just stares, confused, he goes on urgently, “I’m tasked to you. I’ll guard you here while you fight on… or I’ll take you up right now and guide you back to the Moonweaver. It’s your choice, alright? Always. I’m with you either way.”

Molly slips a wry smile. “I can’t stop. Not really.”

The stranger, who Molly knows now is certainly a reaper, falters. Then sobers.

“No. Fuck that. You can stop. You don’t have to do this –”

“No,” Molly says. “I have to.”

There’s a pause. “What do you want to do?”

“Give me a minute. Do we have a minute?”

“We always have time here.”

Molly pulls his legs up a little, arms draped over his knees, staring down the slope of the hill to the quiet meadows beyond. When this goes on long enough, the raven knight takes a seat beside him, mimicking his posture, and likewise waits in silence. Eventually, because it seems like the thing to do, Molly tips over slightly so he’s leaning on them, his cheek resting against their shoulder. The feathers tickle a little. The stranger doesn’t seem bothered.

“Oh, fuck me, I guess.” Molly sighs and sits up again. “Alright. Send me back.”

“Hey,” says the raven knight. They move to kneel in front of him, taking Molly’s face gently between gloved hands. They slap him gently on the cheek and smile. “Just stay alive.”

“Easier said than –”

They grab his shoulders and shove Molly straight down to –

Molly jolts alive, hard, sucking a loud, ragged breath. He’s lying on his back in the sand and someone is cradling the nape of his neck, a hand pressed against his chest. It takes a dizzy moment for the stars to clear from his eyes and his vision to refocus, the face overhead sharpening slowly and for a strange moment Molly is baffled by the anxious pink and gray firbolg that clarifies over him. He’s not sure who else he was expecting though.

“You’re okay?” Caduceus says sounding shaken.

“I am?” Molly says.

Caduceus ignores his question.

He makes a hand motion, says a word, and presses his thumb against Molly’s forehead. It’s familiar. Molly recognizes the Death Ward magic as it takes root in his soul again. A warm net to pull him back from the cold. It’s only then Molly notices that Caduceus is bleeding from the forehead, red slick soaking the downy fur from his right temple to his throat. He doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Are you okay?” Molly manages.

“That’s a funny thing to ask considering you were dead a minute ago.”

“Yeah. Funny that. Ugh. My head’s ringing.”

“Yes, being dead will do that,” says Caduceus and then he pushes Molly down in the sand. “Can you just hold still for a minute?” He waits to see if Molly resists. “Okay. Thanks. Just need to do one thing…”

His hand withdraws and he yanks a pouch from his belt. There’s pre-mixed vial of what looks like ground red crystal and spice which he crushes in his palm, ignoring the blood it draws. He uncorks a flask of what must be holy water and pours it over his closed fist, then he starts to speak. Molly feels the air… twitch, then shiver, then hum. Caduceus is completely thralled by the spell, speaking non-stop, softly, eyes closed. Steam rises off his closed fist.

Which is about the moment Molly hears something explode.

He sits up on his elbows and looks past Caduceus.

There, sitting on the beach and glowing faintly, is a large pale dome of solid magic. At its center is Caleb Widowgast. He’s looking very, very harried. He’s pulled a scroll from his pocket, has it open in front of him as he reads it, mouth moving, glancing distractedly up from time to time.

It’s admirable concentration considering what’s going on outside.

Yasha – lovely Yasha whom Molly knows best from the road, from nights under carnival tents, and the chaos of circus lights and laughter – is presently a screaming pillar of lightning. She hovers a full twenty feet above the beach. Her wings are out, but they don’t move or seem to carry the air beneath them. Rather, sheets of shadows are spread like the thin skin along their frame of bone, sparking with black necrotic energy. In Yasha’s fist is the massive black sword he saw before.

She’s presently hammering her sword against the top this dome.

Which doesn’t fully encapsulate the scene, because every time she swings the sword, the air ignites at the point of impact, detonating outward in a furious wind that tosses Yasha’s hair and knocks sand across the beach. She’s hitting the shield so hard, with such force, Molly can feel it in his bones it would cleave stone like butter. The air stinks like ozone and the cold tang of necrotic magic. Over and over and over she hits, tireless, machine-like. Psychotic.

Molly’s never seen her like that before.

“I said don’t move,” says Caduceus, starting Molly out of his horrified trance.

The firbolg firmly plants a hand against Molly’s chest and thumps him flat on his back again in the sand. His other hand, the one he used for whatever spell he was casting, is empty and covered in ash. He peers down at Molly, frowning.

“I’m serious. Don’t move.”

Molly gives him a baffled look and hisses, “You want me to play dead?”

“Yes.” Caduceus rather industriously brushes Molly’s hair into his face, ignoring his sputter. “Stop.”

Molly obeys mostly because he’s too indignant and confused to be contrary. Caduceus looks over his shoulder toward Yasha. She’s breathing heavy, bare shoulders heaving, having swung back in the air to wind up for another attack. But the moment she sees Clay she freezes. As if she’d been waiting for him to signal her… and the cleric shakes his head.

Son of a bitch, Molly thinks and starts to get up, but Clay gestures and Molly feels the familiar seizing wrench of Hold Person, the spell latching into his spine like a creeping vine around his nerves. Molly still manages to snarl, struggling invisibly against the enchantment, through his teeth.

“What the bloody fuck are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Caduceus says beneath his breath, “but she won’t win if she doesn’t keep her rage.”

Molly immediately looks (with just his eyes) to Yasha. She’s still floating aloft but is shaking her head frantically. She presses her fists to the sides of her temples, the sword in her hand like it weighs nothing. Her face contorts with silent, animal agony and for a moment she curls in on herself. Then she screams.

Lightning strikes and burns the beach bone white and in the split second between one moment and the next, her hands slam into the dome, her sword pinned flat against it.

“CALEB!” Her voice is deafening. She slams her fists against the barrier, screaming, “WHAT DID YOU DO!?” Then almost sobbing, “WHY!? WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

But Caleb doesn’t seem able to answer. He’s frozen, staring up at her through the shimmering pane between them, just watching the fallen aasimar as she wails. As she hunches like she’s wounded, her fingers digging into the layer of magic and sparking with current where she touches it. She stares down through it like glass in a shop front to the man who just killed her friend and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the ocean on the shore.

“Drop this spell,” Yasha says.

“So you can kill me?” Caleb asks, almost in wonder.

“Drop this spell,” Yasha snarls. Her eyes ignite. The sword in her fist reacts to her and the blade flares, burns white phosphorous bright and becomes blinding shard of pure bottle blue starfire. Yasha’s eyes are composed of the same arrested lightning. She rears back and slams a fist into the dome. She screams, “DROP THIS SPELL AND FACE ME!”

“You’ll forgive me,” Caleb says. “You’ll forgive me when I get Beau back.”

Then the scroll in his hand disintegrates.

Immediately, a screaming tear opens with a crack in the air to some 200 meters behind the dome and disgorges a massive, howling, two-story tall mass of rust-red muscle and bone. Giant gorilla-like arms slam down, driving enormous twin pincers into the sand. The beast pulls itself from the hell dimension it was summoned from, its head a horror of distended fangs and a crown of jutting horn, fiendish eyes burning red in deep sockets of bone. The air goes sour with the stench of the fire plane before that brief, shrieking window tunnels shut behind it.

And then there’s a glabrezu standing on the beach.

“Oh,” says Caduceus. Then, “Darn it.” He brings his wrist to his mouth, speaking into the charm on his wrist. “Yasha. I just cast Forbiddance on the ground around Caleb. Sorry. I didn’t want him to run.”

“Height?” comes Yasha’s voice, distracted.

“Sixty by sixty by ten.”

“Good. No matter what he says, you keep him here for me.”

Yasha looks up from the dome, staring at the snarling pit-beast across from her the way you look up when a door opens in a room, then she looks back down into the dome where Caleb is still looking up at her. Her palm is pressed still against the barrier and from there she pushes gently off its surface. She floats up and back, until she’s over thirty feet up. Her sword hangs by her knee.

“Keep your wall,” she says. She grips the hilt of her blade and black veins begin to pulse slow from her eyes, spidering her face in dark capillaries. “I am deathless, Caleb! You can run if you want but I am coming for you!”

And then she vanishes. A lightning strike of magic leaves an after image. She reappears simultaneously directly in the air above the glabrezu. Screaming, she slams her sword point down straight into the top of its spine. The sky splits again and a bolt of lightning forks from the sky, jagging to the hilt of the sword like a grounding rod and the glabrezu howls. Yasha tears the blade free just in time to be backhanded by a gigantic forearm, the force of the blow sending her in a rocketing trajectory straight into the side of a cliff-face 200 meters out. She craters through the rock like a meteorite… then immediate wrenches herself out from the rubble.

“Caduceus,” says a Caleb’s voice suddenly, distracting Molly from the extremely upsetting vision of his best friend fighting a pit fiend. “Dismiss your spell or I’ll summon something actually dangerous and I’ll put it right on top of you. You have ten seconds.”

Clay blinks, one long ear flicking up slightly. “Hmm. No.”

Then, clearly from the pendant, “You think that casting ring makes you powerful? I gave it to you, Caduceus. Don’t try this.”

The firbolg shrugs. “Killing me won’t dispel the effect. Do it if you want, but you’re not teleporting away now.”

There’s a pause.

Then Caleb says quietly, “You want her to kill me, Clay?”

Caduceus says nothing and across the beach, Yasha dives out of the sky. She rips her sword across the titan’s back with a massive two-handed swing that knocks it staggering into the sea. Lighting strikes again, illuminating it as Yasha cleaves her blade down again with such monstrous, unfathomable force it splits one giant clavicle, snapping ribs as it carves down. Blood floods the waves. Her wings flare, dripping blood and sea water.

“You think I won’t kill you too?” Caleb asks, ignoring the battle entirely.

Caduceus kneels there. Says, “You just killed a dear friend. I don’t think you’ll kill another.”

Across the beach, Caleb slams a fist into the inside of the dome wall. “Drop the spell, Caduceus! Don’t make me hurt you!”

“No,” says the cleric.

“You were never one of us,” Caleb hisses. “You were just Mollymauk’s replacement. I killed Molly! Do you understand? You think I won’t kill you too? Because let me tell you: of all the Nein, I’ve always found you the most expendable.”

Caduceus’ enduring calm seems to flicker, for just a second. “You don’t mean a word of that.”

“Drop the spell or I’m going to –!”

The gunshot rings out across the beach.

There’s an impact against the top right of the dome, a spark of arcane light that implodes to a single, burning singularity… then the bullet unleashes a wave of arcane power that Molly cannot identify and the dome shatters. No. It disintegrates. Caleb lunges back from the wall, stumbling. As he dome falls, a fresh shield of blue magic spins up from his hands… just in time as the second gunshot puts a slug into the magic at Caleb’s knee.

He looks… honestly, devastated.

“Nott?” he rasps.

The third gunshot ricochets off the shield and Caleb immediately starts to run. As he does, the makes a two-handed gesture, presses his hands to his chest and – with sudden and a shocking burst of speed – sprints straight to his left.

Caduceus immediately says a spell word. Caleb shouts one back. Nothing happens. Caduceus lunges to his feet then. The firbolg’s voice, usually so steady, takes on a sudden lion-ish sub-vocalization and he roars, “STOP!”

And Caleb, seized by the sudden arcane command, doesn’t quite stop… but he trips, staggering, forcing his way through it...

The fourth shot hits him in the back of knee.

So he doesn’t make it to the edge of the anti-teleportation field. He goes down.

Nott appears then, as if from thin air, on a cropping of rock about twenty meters away to Molly and Caduceus’ left. She’s standing up, her hood sliding from her hair as she shells a spent cartridge from the chamber of her weapon, the long metal barrel weirdly matte in the half light of the coming dawn. Her eyes glow slightly, lantern yellow as the wind buffets her hair around her small, round face. For a moment she just stands there, unmoving, listening to Caleb scream though a shattered kneecap.

Through the communicator, Molly can hear Caleb wailing, over and over, “Why?” Saying Nott’s name and just, “Why are you with them?!”

“I’m sorry,” Nott whispers. She’s shaking. “I’m so sorry, Caleb.”

Then she turns and immediately shoots Caduceus. He wasn’t expecting that so it nails him, easily, in the upper right torso and puts the firbolg down like a sack of bricks. Clay hits the sand on his back, crying out just once, his long body curling instinctively in the sand. He clutches at his ribs, at the collar of his armor, choking as shell-shocked lungs fail to draw in oxygen. There’s no blood though. Just the airless stunning effect of being shot, almost point blank, through his armor.

Nott is sobbing at this point. She’s doubled over, her weapon still braced against her shoulder. Two teammates felled in less than ten seconds and she’s weeping.

Clay’s hold person charm unlatches itself from Mollymauk’s spine about then.

“Nott,” he says immediately. He pushes himself into a sitting position. “Hey, Nott? Nott, it’s okay. No need to get dramatic. Okay?”

Her head snaps up. She stares down at Molly from her sniper’s perch.

“Molly?” she croaks. Her eyes are the size and shape of two coins in her face.

“Hi,” he says. “Please stop shooting people?”

“How are you not dead?” says Nott. She sounds like she’s in shock. “He… he killed you. You’re dead. No one can survive that.”

Molly tries to be calm in the face of his own rattling terror. “Clay brought me back again.” A beat. “I think.”

“You can’t… that’s not… You can’t do that! No one can–!” Nott’s eyes go wide, horrified. “You have to stop Yasha,” she whispers, dread welling in her pretty gnomish face. “You have to stop her! She’ll kill him! She’ll kill Caleb! Go! GO RIGHT NOW! PLEASE! I know he hurt you but–?!”

Molly is already on his feet.

He sprints, bee-lining it straight toward the water, a blur of magic-accelerated tiefling as Nott’s enchanted rings launch him at twice his usual speed from a runner’s crouch toward the shore. He glances, just once, in Caleb’s direction as he comes parallel and sees the wizard staring at him. Time slows, not truly but in that infinitesimal second of recognition Caleb’s face is rigid with shock, confusion, and a strange undercurrent of terror as the thing he just killed goes running past him. Untouched. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but Molly thinks he looks a little relieved.

Then Molly keeps running, headlong into the sea.

“YASHA!”

Beyond the breakers, he can see: The glabrezu is dead. The enormous mass of its body floating like a whale corpse in the waves. Yasha is literally kneeling on top of it. Screaming and covered in gore, she just keeps hacking, each blow spraying another burning gout of blood. Soaking her hair, covering her shoulders, her armor, dripping off every line of muscle. Lightning flashes in the distance, illuminating the waves around her, shining off the blood that coats her skin so thoroughly she herself looks like a flayed thing tearing into the corpse. Some primal aasimar instinct driving her into a frenzy against the hell-spawn.

Molly hits the water, wading out to his knees in to shallows.

“YASHA!” He cups two hands around his mouth. “STOP!”

She freezes halfway through a downswing, startled from her killing. The sword drips in her fist. She turns to face him, her soaking hair swinging heavily from her head. Her eyes, burning like twin suns, seem to extinguish when she sees him. Molly drops his arms and waits. He watches her stand to her feet on the mass of demonic flesh beneath her. She bends at the knees, then launches into the air and in a single arching bound is propelled the full distance.

She lands heavy in the shallows, clumsy in her haste. She drops her sword and it blinks away.

“Molly?!” She sprints toward him, water splashing up behind her. “Mollymauk!?”

She slams into him before he can reply, instantly closing him in a blood-soaked bearhug that staggers them both for a moment. He ignores that and grips hold of her armor, fingers digging into the sticky hot slick. Her hair is a stinking, sulfurous rat nest of gore against his face, but he ignores that too. Her fists are knotted in his cloak and in the back of his hair, gripping so tight it hurts a little.

“He killed you.” She’s whispering frantically. “He killed you again. I thought…” She makes a strangled noise. “I didn’t think how much worse the second time would be.”

“I’m okay, Yasha. Alright? Come back to me for a second.”

She makes a gutted sobbing sound. “Don’t do that again!”

“I’m really trying, dear.” Molly’s throat feels raw. He grips at the leather straps that crisscross her back, breathing slowly. “Hey, don’t kill Caleb. I know he did that business back there but don’t. Alright?”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay, I won’t.”

Molly glances over his shoulder.

Caleb has dragged himself another ten meters on his elbows through the sand. He has some kind of glowing stone in his fist and he’s looking at the pair of former carnie performers standing together in the ocean. Yasha’s cradling Molly’s head against her shoulder. The waves fill Molly’s boots with sea water. The cold doesn’t bother him because Nott’s enchanted earrings stave off the chill. Caduceus’ Death Ward lays warm in Molly’s chest. None of that seems like much protection against the echo in Mollymauk’s head – the one with a hand on his shoulder and a hand over his heart saying, softly, regretfully, “Die.”

But Caleb just lays back, his head falling in the sand like he’s very exhausted… or like a man who’s giving up on something. He grips the stone and in a flash of blue light, he vanishes.

And Molly feels something small, something loadbearing inside him, fracture.

“Shit,” he mutters into Yasha’s shoulder. He grips her tighter. “Fuck.”

If she feels him shaking she doesn’t comment. She just pulls closer until the tremor subsides.

Eventually, they walk out of the ocean.

“No, no, no,” Molly says, rushing up and shooing Nott away from Caduceus.

She’s currently helping the cleric sit up, gently, looking very, very sorry about shooting him with her rifle, but upon seeing Molly’s furious approach, she hops back like a startled hare. Molly stomps across the sand and with zero preamble seizes the front of the fibolg’s armor and yanks him very, very close. Almost nose to nose. Molly grins because he’s still nerve-shot and full of adrenaline and but also, he’s so angry he could bite something. A presumptuous fibolg will do.

Smiles are just the intermediary step to biting.

“You want to explain what the hell you did back there?”

Caduceus seems confused. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, no,” Molly grits, still smiling. “Don’t do that. I don’t take very kindly to people making assassins out of my friends. So let’s try that again.” Molly shakes him a little. “Why the hell did you fake my death?”

“You weren’t fake dead,” Caduceus says, puzzled. “You were actually dead, Mollymauk. I have to revive you. I don’t understand –”

“That’s not what I bloody mean and you know it. The moment I woke up, you cast a spell to trap Caleb on the beach. Then you told Yasha I was dead. You held me down to do it.” Molly glares. “If you want my friends to kill someone in my name, then you better do it when I’m actually dead. Not a second before. You understand me?”

Nott looks at Caduceus.

“Is that true?” she whispers.

Caduceus says nothing. Then, “I didn’t want Yasha to kill him… I just wanted him wounded.”

“Well, okay,” Molly says brightly. “That’s fine. Considering he literally talked me to death, I think wounding him a bit is warranted, but I think that’s something you need to tell your teammates. Why is just telling them not an option?”

Silence for a moment.

Nott and Yasha look at Caduceus and Mollymauk can feel it like gravity getting denser as they do. Two of the strongest women in the realm deciding what terrible thing they might be doing in the next thirty seconds.

“Because,” says Caduceus blankly, tiredly. “Nott loves Caleb. She loves him more than anything, in fact. She ran the moment he appeared, like I knew she would, because she didn’t want him to know she’s not quite on his side anymore.” He glances toward Yasha. “You swore to never use your battle trance again even on enemies, much less a friend. I’m sorry, but we need the Deathless Storm. We need Nott the Brave. Caleb Widogast is beyond us otherwise because you know, this time, he was holding back because he loves us. You know that.”

Yasha, standing off the side now, unfolds her arms from where she’s had them crossed over her chest. She is literally covered from head to foot in demon blood, her pale mismatched eyes bright spots in a canvas of wet red gore. Her face is blank as she moves forward. Her wings have faded but there’s a nimbus of darkness still along her shoulders, behind her teeth, and living in her stare as she kneels down and takes Caduceus’ left forearm in her hand and pulls him nearer.

He doesn’t resist her.

“You tricked me to break my vow?” she whispers.

To his credit, Caduceus looks pained. “Yes.”

“We are out here for the purpose of killing friends and you made me believe I’d lost Molly again… so I might kill Caleb too?” The empty horror in her stare is fathomless deep, her soul living out this dark alternate universe where Molly didn’t get up in time and she stood over Caleb Widogast’s corpse on a beach. “Do you think I would have survived that?”

“You’re strong, Yasha. You –”

“I am not strong!” she cries, grabbing him now by the shoulder as well, forcing Molly to let go and withdraw. She pulls Caduceus close, shaking him. Yasha’s eyes are running over now, a wildness in her that cracks her voice. “I am not! I ran to the storm because I could not face what happened after Thrazidun!I could not face what I did! I became a monster because I am not strong and you almost made me one again, Caduceus?!” She shakes him harder, mouth twisting. “Why?”

Clay seems frozen, paralyzed by the yawning wild grief in Yasha’s face. “I’m sorry. I – It’s just so important we don’t fail. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough!” Yasha grabs him by the back of the neck, bloody fingers digging into the pink mane at the base of his skull. She yanks him close, pressing them forehead to forehead and she says, ragged, “I need to trust you! You’re our healer. I need you to be the one that takes care of us, Clay.”

“You can trust me,” Caduceus whispers. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Swear to me!”

“I swear, Yasha.”

And that seems to be enough, because Yasha makes this raw, animal sound and pulls the giant firbolg into a bone-crushing hug, getting blood all over him but he doesn’t seem to care. He goes rigid for just a moment, then wraps his arms around her and Molly sees a faint shimmer of healing magic start up in his hands, then spread across Yasha’s back, smoothing away scrapes and cuts along her arms, closing a gash on her brow. Yasha’s eyes are twisted so tightly shut, tears running clean tracks through the blood to her chin.

“We can’t fall apart,” she rasps.

Caduceus’ calm is very much gone. He grips her tight. “I won’t let that happen. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment. The ocean waves roar steadily in the distances, rolling relentlessly and indifferently forward while they struggle through a moment of terrible uncertainty – each looking at the other and wondering what terrible thoughts might be racing behind familiar eyes. The silence goes on for a while, the pale glow of coming sunrise expanding across the horizon in pale purple and pink.

Then, very quietly, Nott says, “So that’s still the plan?”

Everyone looks at her. She’s sitting cross-legged in the sand, shoulders slumped, head bent.

“I mean… I knew it was, but if Yasha is saying it out loud then it’s real, isn’t it?” She wipes her face with one hand and sniffs. “No point hiding it from Mollymauk. He’s already died again in the name of this thing we’re doing, so let’s be clear.” She looks up at Molly. “We’re bringing the others together because it took all of us to kill a god before. It’ll probably take all of us to do it again.”

Molly shakes his head.

“I don’t…” He looks back and forth among them. “You mean…?”

Yasha is not looking at him. Caduceus and Nott are watching him though.

Molly, who is covered in blood and four times dead, sitting on a battle-blasted beach and so emotionally spent it feels like there shouldn’t be a drop of feeling left in him… he feels a sting of panic looking into their sober, battle-worn faces. His instinct, immediately: To run away from it. Yell at it. No. Absolutely not. No. But in the face of their scars and the history of violence ten years old at this point, he feels paralyzed by the weight of everything they’ve done without him.

He’s suddenly a million miles away from the three warriors sitting on the beach with him.

“We have to kill Beauregard,” Molly says, finally. “That’s why Caleb tried to stop us. Because you’re coming for Beau.”

Go to part 5

#critical role #the mighty nein #mollymauk tealeaf #cr2 #caduceus clay #yasha #caleb widogast #nott the brave #vaxildan #long post

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