#whether it be younger or older alicent they always find a way to blame her ir make her worse than what she actually is

[crudelisdrakon]

𝗘𝗡𝗩𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗗 to claw its way from the inside out. her children should be there, too —- joffrey, aegon and viserys deserved to get to know their grandsire as their elder brothers had. as her niece and nephew had. “of course.” bitterness filled her tone. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥， 𝙣𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 ; how it was her mother who even started the tradition in the first place. but he never thought twice to what it was like to lose a parent. always defended his venomous mother, blamed rhaenyra for any discourse between them. gods forbid his mother could do any wrong, protected by her shroud of 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝖘𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻. as if the devout righteousness outweighed her vindications. then again, what had she anticipated when alicent fed it into all of her children’s minds to despise their elder half - sister. that they were to be enemies.

“and you expect me to believe that … ?” asked softly, as if the entire realm could hear her flirtations. bear witness to yet another infidelity she was throwing herself into. out of what —- ? a plethora of things. curiosity, spite towards her husband alongside alicent, the desire to be coveted, and mere attention. she didn’t anticipate aegon to be so willing. half expected him to shove her away and shout profanities. claim he knew she were a 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞, that now he could use the action against her. foolish, actually, to risk everything for one night of satisfaction ; but what was more enticing than throwing herself into all things that were considered completely wrong ?

they were destined to tear one another apart somewhere in the future. if not them, the peace their father sought would be shattered somewhere. whether it be amongst her own children, or between theirs. daemon had an arrogance, one his daughters carried and she anticipated her sons to obtain. how was she to know there wouldn’t be turmoil long after her death amongst elder and younger brother ? the hightowers were also adamant on placing their blood upon the throne. it wouldn’t stop with just alicent’s children. they’d find a way to use aegon’s twins to snag it somehow. they were owed this, or so she had convinced herself.

the older she grew, the more she understood daemon’s teachings —- much to his own chagrin she would imagine. it first began in the few times they crossed paths during her marriage to laenor and his to laena. where she had not dared lie with her uncle, there was curiosity and experimentation with his wife. rhaenyra was a quick learner, thus contorting her into an even faster teacher. leading her younger half - brother down a path of corruption and it was exhilarating. all the anger she felt towards her own husband, the frustrations about impending trial, spite towards stepmother … but an underlying passion for aegon had been fed into their kiss. grasp at her waist was signal enough that he wanted this as much as she did. both for vastly different reasons, and she had not a care for why he had succumbed so easily.

queer customs, indeed —- enticing her to shrug off the thick robe she wore over nightgown. allowing velvet fabric to fall to kitchen floor, hands finding purchase upon his body yet again. she was the opposite of shy, tugging at the strings of the cloak he wore, wasting no time in ridding him of it. there was no room for words, unable to pry her lips from his own. though, a blind reach grasped for another lemon cake, wicked smirk melding into kiss. smearing the dessert across exposed neck and the little bit of his chest that was exposed through deep collar of his shirt. finally prying herself away enough to drag her tongue along the mess of frosting she had made. up the hollow of his throat and towards his ear. husked whisper escaping. “. . . still think it is a dream 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 me —- ?”

perhaps, he didn’t think it would be a slap to her ego, how their father had loved her more or treated her with bias due to the realm’s delight ( * if she could still covet such a title ). “ almost every night. whenever helaena brings them.” there were however, some nights — when they visted their grandmother, when their grandsire had been too ill to read them tales. “ jaehaerys, always asked ‘where is kekepa.’ quite annoying sometimes, when he is so persistent about it. ” he wouldn’t mention, how helaena sometimes; would be the one to read stories to all three of them —- their father, & the children, or how that’s exactly where they were tonight. “ it’s just the same stories he always spit at us, the conquerors… old valyria. nothing you can spit at them yourself.” of course, he wouldn’t understand. he never saw the meaning behind why viserys told them stories, nor would he ever understand. his mother was alive & well, he hadn’t faced any pain of losing a parent yet.

lavenders rolled, missed her? he could almost laugh. “ without you here, the red keep is like a dream.” it was a nightmare, so much more was expected of him — & pushed upon him by his mother. it was no wonder he needed constant distractions to put his mind at ease. tonight were no different — the oddness of it, however was a different story. if he hadn’t known any better, this were all some kind of dream & he would wake in the house of kisses beside penny copper. he oft did, when his half-sister crossed his mind, & while his mother would call it what she would … sinful, queer targaryen customs … it had been them that had planted that idea in his mind over so many years. the ābrazȳrys he had deserved, following their customs of marrying the first son & first daughter together. it should have been them as husband & wife. yet, she had been married off to their cousin, only producing heirs in theory. than to their uncle, where some say, the first true heirs to the next monarch were born. if a war of succession didn’t break out after viserys’ eventual death, than one between the bastard & the younger aegon surly would come to past. a bastard would be scorn by the iron throne, there was no doubt about it.

chills ran down his spine, mind fading from his thoughts as her warm hands embraced his neck. it felt as if she were baiting him, & he would be a fool if he would say it wasn’t working. while daemon had taught her traditions of their house, he was not. his mother would call this the highest of disrespects towards his wife — as she oft had when he came home drunk & enamored by the whores between silks. the difference now was; she would entirely blame rhaenyra, alicent would say that her son were poisoned by the whore of dragonstone. Enticed into her web. meanwhile, he were acting all the willing, giving into her, returning the stolen kiss. perhaps, it were the wine —- or perhaps it were the longing he had felt for years. helaena was his wife, but only in title. rhaenyra was only his sister, but only because of circumstances against him.

he wasn’t sure if it were the icing from the lemon cakes, or if it were the taste of how her lips always were, yet he didn’t care. fingers dug deep into her side pulling her closer into him, deepening the kiss. aegon i had two wives —- maegor the cruel had six wives —— & rhaenyra, had two marriages, & a paramour. perhaps, targayrens were never meant to be monogamous, perhaps they were supposed to act upon theses urges. this would be something his mother would hold against the princess, if they affair were to ever leave the walls that surround them — but so be it, if he got his own desires fulfilled.

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?���

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

[readingsoyoucanavoidlife]

In Denial

Sometimes I just want everyone to be happy and alive, so here is my headcanons for if Tom Riddle never existed. 

~James and Lily never have to fight in a war, so James becomes a professional quidditch player and he became the longest reining Captain before he quit, bought the club and became the manager for it, as well as the coach for the players. Lily becomes a healer at St. Mungo’s and was able to invent a cure for dragon pox. When James’ parents died as a result of the disease she worked tirelessly researching it and came up with and affective cure. She has a portrait hanging in the hospital and after a long day sometimes has conversations with it (it the only way she can have a decent conversation in her current state). James teases her about it a lot.  

~They get pregnant at a later age, because their relationship doesn’t move as fast since there is the lack of war pressure and not knowing what will happen to them. Same goes for the Weasleys and Andromeda so they all have their children later. (Canonly Molly and Arthur got married quicker because of war) And I’m just going to say that the Grangers had fertility problems, so had Hermione later. (this way the ages and relationships stay the same)

~After Harry they have three more children; Grace Iris Mia Potter, Sophie Lily Potter and Danial Charles Monty Potter. (In that order) (Iris and Charles are Lily’s parents names and Mia and Monty are shortened from Euphemia and Fleamont). Remus becomes Godfather to Grace, Peter (since he couldn’t betray them) becomes Godfather to Sophie, and Marlene becomes Godmother to Danial. Grace is two years younger than Harry (the year bellow Ginny), Sophie is one year bellow her and Danial is two years bellow that.

~They don’t see Dudley or their actual Aunt and Uncle often, they tend to meet up to have a tense cup of tea once a year. The Potter’s always send them birthday and Christmas gifts but the Dursley’s never do. They hardly heat from them until Dudley reaches out saying that he thinks his child is magical. James laughs a lot at this and more specifically the looks on Petunia’s and Vernon’s faces. They do agree to help him and his family understand. 

~When McGonagall becomes Headmistress, the sorting becomes more based on personality and not character and bloodline. Thus ending the prejudice towards the houses. This is the thing that she brings to Hogwarts like the other Heads have done before her. (Dumbledore's was giving people, like Remus, chances) However this is before Minnie’s time so they are all in Griffindor. She becomes Headmistress in Harrys 6th year when Dumbledore leaves to retire in a tropical country, there is no imminent threat so why should he stay at school? His only problem is that sometimes it’s too hot to wear socks.  

~Grace works for the ministry and falls in love with a guy who went to Durmstrang but now works in England, named Eric Luka. They end up having a daughter together, Scarlett Luka. Although when Scarlett is a year old, he walks out on them. Grace becomes a single mum for four years before her co-worker Aiden Murphey asks her out. They had always been friends as he had been a year above her at school, although he was in Ravenclaw. They get married and Scarlett changes her name to Luka-Murphy. They have three children together Liam, then a year later Finn and a year after that they have Owen.

~Sophie become a wizard robe designer and manages to bring some more modern and muggle aspects to the wizarding world. She starts her own clothing brand and falls for some one in Danial’s year. Zoe Phillips, they get married but don’t have any kids. They are perfectly content with spoiling their nieces and nephews.

~Danial is the perfect child of the family and people try to not like him because of it, but end up giving in because he is so nice. He is an architect for the wizarding world and marries a Hufflepuff in his year called Audrey, she is also an architect. Again they are the perfect couple that is so sickening but you can’t help liking them. They have two daughters, Emily and Olivia, who is four years younger. 

~Wolfstar is a thing (as it always has been), they are together up until Harry’s 7th year. They are facing difficult struggles and are always shouting at each other, even though they still love each other. They decide to take a break and they each are set up on dates. Sirius with some guy and Remus with Tonks. On this date Remus gets very drunk because he misses Sirius and they sleep together. 

~ A week later they promise to be better and stop their break. Although after three months, Tonks contacts Remus to tell him that she is pregnant, and it is his decision whether he wants to be part of it or not. Remus has his freak out about whether the baby will be like him and what Sirius will say. 

~Sirius understands what has happened and doesn’t blame Remus because they were on a break, but is upset that he was with someone else. After a talk with James, Sirius feels better and is by Remus’ side the whole way and becomes excited for a baby when Remus calls Tonks to say that he wants to be a part of it (secretly he had always been jealous about the way his nieces and nephews look at James and Lily). Tonks knows how in love the boys are.

~Wolfstar begins to miss out on baby stuff and Sirius complains that its not how its meant to be when the kid arrives, so Tonks come to live with them. Tonks love the arrangement because she doesn’t have to be alone and the boys dote on her and the baby once he arrives. James becomes a Godfather. They continue living together until Teddy a bit after Teddy turns one. Tonks moves to London to be closer to her work and they co-parent using floo network all the time. Sirius normally watches him during the day since he is a wizarding writer and Remus is a professor at Hogwarts (floo’s into work) and Tonks is an auror.

~Harry and Ron become Friends with Hermione when they save her from trouble with Filch for being out after bed (she was in the Library for too long). They help her with the invisibility cloak and she lies for them when McGonagall reveals them from under the cloak when she stepped on the end of it.  

~Neville has a happy childhood and is coated in his parents love, by the time he gets to school he is much more confident. He still takes a toad but his parents gave him an owl. Alice and Frank support all of his choices and are proud of every accomplishment he makes, even if his Grandmother says that it’s a waste of their time and effort. He and Harry are close friends from a very young age because of their parents, although they never really were best friends. When they went to Hogwarts and Harry went off with Ron they still looked out for each other and laughed together.

~Ron and Hermione (Ginny when they got older) came over to the Potter’s for some of the holidays, like they would go to the Weasleys for some before parting for a week before September 1st for “family time” and so their parents could see them off. Because of this Sirius and Remus become close with Ron and Hermione, so when Mrs. Weasley hosts a party (when Teddy is around three) they are invited too as part of the Potter family. Tonks comes along too as a family outing with Teddy. Teddy and Victorie hit it off and begged their parents to have play together more. Tonks sees Charlie at the party and starts talking to him as they were in the same year at school, though in different houses. He introduces her to his friend who works with him and is recently moving to London to lead the organization for dragon well-fair in England, protesting to let the Gringotts dragons free. In short Tonks and the person get together. (still unsure on what her partner identifies as but they are from a Greek pure-blood family with the surname Samaras).

~Charlie never marries or truly settles down but treats his dragons like children and is the best uncle ever.

~Bill comes to England not because of war but because he accidentally got promoted and had to move back. Him and Fleur still get married quickly, and have Victorie a year after that, Dominique come after two years and Louis three years after that. They pretty much lead the same lives other than the fact that their wedding isn’t crashed by Death Eaters and Fleur insists they have it in France (since they don’t have to stay in England for it)

~Hemione and Ron get together in 7th year in a similar sort of way. Ron is caught by Hermione tell off some kids for playing pranks on the house elves and teaches they about their history and situation. She can’t help herself, so she snogs him in the deserted corridor after the kids have gone. 

~Ginny and Harry break up after his 7th year, she wanted more independence especially since this was her last year and the only year attending the school without her family there. Harry was also going to auror training and starting his own path in the world and wanted to experience being by himself in the world, with new responsibilities. They both date a few people whilst broken up and remain close friends, they were each other’s firsts (Harry’s 7th year) but were with other people too. After four years, Ginny made the Harpies first team and one the match for them. Like before, Harry and her ended up kissing in front of the entire stadium, they have been together ever since. 

~ Ron and Harry both became aurors but shortly after Remus retires (he was getting more tiered after the full moons with his age and Sirius’ book became a best selling novel in the muggle and wizarding world so he could support them comfortably), he became the DADA professor. After joining the aurors he never felt like it was a good choice for him and didn’t know what he wanted to do, so he just stuck it out. That was until Remus mentioned he was retiring early and that they were struggling to find a competent professor. 

~Ginny does take maternity leave with each of her children (Jake, Samuel and Lyra - because no one is dead) but still play for the harpies until she is forced to retire. After retiring she writes sports articles for both the Prophet and the Quibbler, becoming chief editor of both. Harry is able to take care of the kids whilst she is away, with the help of a nanny. They both couldn’t see a reason to put either of their careers on hold. 

~Ron revolutionized the strategies that were used and as a result far less people were harmed and more people joined the force. He still took a 7 year break to be a stay at home dad whilst Hermione was being a boss, but practically worked part time since everyone respected his opinion and always asked for his advice (he got paid half time wages because of this). When Rose and Hugo both went to a muggle primary school, Ron worked for them officially again, but because of all the work he had done he rose quickly through the ranks and when the old head of the aurors retired, he became head of the department.

~Fred didn’t die so him and Angelina became a permanent couple (they never wanted to or could be bothered with getting married). They always had an on and off thing since the Yule Ball, they were the only people that they ever were in love with, despite their previous inconsistency. They only had one kid together. Joseph Weasley. Fred wanted him to have a sibling like he had but Angelina only ever wanted one and he had many cousins, George had his second kid at the same time and the boys were practically twins. (Fred II is renamed to Luke Weasley, since Fred didn’t die)

~George married Katie Bell after running into her at Diagon Ally whilst locking up the shop (Fred was out with Angelina that night). They agreed to catch up and it resulted in them having an amazing time, which ended with Katie giving George her contact details. They got pregnant with Roxanne just after George had proposed, so the wedding was preponed until she was there. Unfortunately Katie got pregnant again with Luke just when they started planning the wedding. two years later they finally got married and their children walked down the isle (it was the cutest thing, Molly was weeping).  

~Percy and Oliver fall in love ( how do you expect two guys that are the definition of opposites attract share a room for 7 years and have nothing happen) Oliver stops Percy from being a complete prat as there is no ministry fall out with his family to get him to that point. Oliver makes him realize that his family are the greatest gift, especially with all their flaws. They have a small ceremony with only family and close friends and adopt a little witch naming her after Molly, three years later they adopt another witch and name her Lucy. 

~Snape and Lily still fall out with him calling her a mudblood, just because there wasn’t an group to kill those like her doesn’t mean he didn’t hang around with prejudice people and have those views. He still become potions professor when Slughorn retires. Though occasionally he will get howlers from the Potter’s and Longbottom's shouting at him for his behavior towards his students along with some howlers from Marlene and Dorcas, Emmeline, Mary, Sirius and Peter with use of his old nicknames they had for him. (because how dare he disrespect their friends kids)

~Peter still is friends with the marauders, but he moves away from them and distances himself every year to the point where they only write to each other to celebrate special occasions. He never finds a partner or has children but does become a pub manager and lives comfortably.   

~Draco and the Golden trio make their peace at the end of 7th year. They never become friends, they just forgive each other ( for the most part, him calling Hermione a mudblood is not forgiven). They act civilly towards one another, especially when Scorpius and Samuel announce that they are dating. They learn to tolerate but nothing more.  

[arcadiasarchives]

Once Upon a Time...

The forest was almost dead quiet. No birds singing, no crickets chirping, no frogs croaking. There was a thick mist rising from the lake covering the area in a soft grey blanket. Thunder rumbled in the distance threatening rain as lightning flashed across the horizon. On the ground, only a stone’s throw away from the water's edge, lay a crumpled form. Soot stained white wings spread across the ground, the left one twisted at the wrong angle. A way away lay a silver sword stained with blood, metal dull in the half-light. The angel was badly wounded, littered with minor cuts and bruises across his entire body as well as a rather bloody stab wound to his abdomen. He was alive if barely, his chest rising and falling unevenly with each laboured breath he took. A figure knelt over him, a hand tracing across his face gently as he struggled to open his eyes.

“Looks like you’ve been dragging your wings through the mud again Mickey,” Lucifer smirked as he looked down at his older brother and Michael knew it even before he opened his eyes trying to focus them on his brother’s face. “Can’t you just let me die in peace?” He groaned out, every word adding to the pain already coursing through his body. It was a useless question, his brother wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to take pleasure in his misery. “Now Mickey even under normal circumstances that wouldn’t happen you know that.” The devil snorted as his hand traced down the other angel’s neck. Michael did know that even if he’d never really considered the possibility of actually dying on the times it had crossed his mind Lucifer had always been present. Whether an active participant in his demise or just there to gloat he was always there. There had even been occasions when his brother had been saddened by his death but they were few and far between. “In which case you might want to get on with the gloating.” He hissed as Lucifer’s hands continued down his body, brushing over wounds and causing fresh pain to lace through him it almost made him use what little energy he had left to shove him away. “Not here to gloat big brother.” He was glad he hadn’t wasted his energy now, he needed it to frown disbelievingly at the other who’s smirk was still firmly in place as his hand continued down until it was hovering over the stab wound. Michael’s eyes slipped closed with a pained noise that he would deny was a whimper with his last breath as his brother traced the edge of the wound with a questing finger. “Only seven blades in existence can kill an angel and you get stabbed by one. At least tell me it wasn’t your own blade Mickey?” Lucifer wasn’t sure how his brother managed to convey both anger and annoyance in the state he was in without opening his eyes but he did manage it, quite well at that. “Luci...” Michael gritted out as his brother pressed down on the wound. He didn’t want to spend his last moments fighting with his once favourite brother and just wished he could pass out from the pain and get it all over with. But the pain appeared to be receding and he forced his eyes open to stare at his younger brother who’s smirk had softened slightly. “Told you I wasn’t here to gloat.” Lucifer removed his hand and lent back to eye his brother critically, he looked like hell and that was something Lucifer could say with certainty having first-hand knowledge of it. “Thank you.” Michael hesitated as he pushed himself into more of a sitting position, wincing as the movement sent pain through his wings, he watched his brother suspiciously because this way so unlike him. “Not to sound ungrateful but why?” Lucifer snorted as he got to his feet and moved over to pick up his brother’s fallen sword, looking it over thoughtfully. A slight wave of fear went through the older angel as he watched the other, despite having been healed he was in no state to fight, but Lucifer just flipped it and offered him the hilt. “Because as I’m sure you’re aware I had nothing to do with the current take over in heaven.” Michael made a noise of agreement as he accepted the sword. It had been humiliating enough to discover they were losing, to find out it wasn’t even Lucifer behind it was the icing on the cake. He did not want to discuss it, something his brother was obviously aware of because he added. “And I would rather you in charge than Belial.” “Not saying much I’d rather you in charge than Belial,” Michael muttered as he accepted the hand Lucifer held out to him and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet where he wobbled slightly as he sheathed his sword. “Can I have that written in blood?” “Piss off!” “Now now that’s no way to speak to someone who just saved your life.” Lucifer chided as he moved to be in a position to catch his brother should his legs give out. As funny as that would be it would not improve his sour mood and letting him hit the ground would be seen as even less friendly. “How did you know I was in trouble?” Michael queried as he leant against a nearby tree carefully. Heaven had been in quite the shambles when he’d last been able to pay attention. Though Belial hadn’t yet taken over he hadn’t been far off. Then again the twins had been close enough to see Belial’s attack on him and he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them had called Lucifer for help. “Heaven has fallen Michael,” Lucifer informed him solemnly and he did actually look sorry which was more than a little confusing. “Gabriel was the only archangel to escape, he was badly wounded but had the sense to come to me with those he got out and tell me what had happened.” “Is he going to be alright?” Lucifer made a noise of agreement as he moved over to be closer to Michael even though there was less chance of him falling now. “He’ll be fine, apparently there was only one archangel blade lying around.” Michael became very interested in the leaf-covered ground at his feet and Lucifer raised one eyebrow. “I take it it was yours.” “The twins told me not to take it.” He admitted with a slight sigh refusing to look up at his brother. “I didn’t listen.” “Of course they did they’re clever and of course you didn’t you’re a stubborn idiot,” Lucifer muttered half under his breath as he crossed his arms. The second level and what was left of the first level had been put in charge of hiding the archangel blades after the fall and in the end, only the twins knew their locations, something many had opposed after their, and in particular Alice’s, estrangement from heaven. “Who got away?” “Not many, a few of the runaways, a handful from the lower levels, even less from the upper levels.” Lucifer listed as he sat down on a fallen tree. “The twins?” “Just Alice, Adrian and a handful of others stayed behind to cover the escape. They didn’t make it out.” Michael nodded as he stared down at the ground, he doubted Alice was taking the loss of her twin particularly well and he felt a pang of guilt as he realized it was partially, if not completely, his fault. The second garrison, and the twins, in particular, had tried to get them to fall back and concentrate their efforts on the centre so they weren’t so thinly spread but he’d refused. “Beating yourself up is not going to help anyone, Mickey.” “I should have listened to them.” “Definitely but it’s a bit late for that now.” Michael glared at him and he did his best not to smirk, after all, he wasn’t supposed to be antagonizing his brother but it was so much more amusing than letting him get lost in his own head. After all, if they were arguing his brother couldn’t blame himself. “Right now the best you can do is try and fix the mistake.” The older angel frowned down at the ground and Lucifer sighed as he got up, they shouldn’t be lingering Belial would undoubtedly want to make sure Michael was dead and the two of them would be fairly noticeable. He trusted his ability to defend himself against anyone Belial sent but his brother was in no condition to fight and would be a distraction. “Come on, we need to get back to the others I left Alice in charge and she’s probably pulling her hair out by now.” “I can’t fly.” Michael pointed out as he pushed himself off the tree, swaying again now it wasn’t supporting him. His pride had taken enough hits for the time being and he didn’t think he’d ever live it down if he collapsed. “Then I guess I’ll have to carry you.” The unamused look his brother gave him was worth the pain it was going to be fulfilling his statement. “You don’t want me trying to heal your wings, Mickey, if I screw it up you’ll end up with permanent damage. You’re better off waiting.” His older brother huffed but after a moment's hesitation, he nodded dejectedly. “That’s the spirit.” Lucifer clapped with more false joy than was strictly necessary and Michael glared at him. “I hate you, you know that right?” Lucifer laughed at him shaking his head fondly as he picked his brother up bridal style ignoring his muttered complaint and almost petulant expression, he almost regretted not letting anyone come with him this would make their century. “Be nice or I’ll drop you.”