#yes i know the painting has nothing to do with guinevere but close enough | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

Text

A Place To Rest

[Broadway Kids]

NOTE: Everything between Carrie and Tommy and Carrie and Sue is strictly platonic!!

Word count: 6397

Prompt: “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.” “You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

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She is shaking.

At least she thinks she's shaking. What difference will shaking make? It won't change anything.

It doesn't matter that her knees are wobbling, it doesn't matter that she is losing her ground, it doesn't matter that she is on the floor holding her head in her hands, now, entire body shaking as she struggles to see through blurry eyes and breathe through rapidly closing lungs. None of it does, did, or ever will matter.

She doesn't even know what’s going on around her now. She can't tell, everything is blurring together and she feels like she's dying, she's finally dying and she's going to accept it, she wants to accept it, she wants to die, there's nothing else left for her here and there never will be, but She won't let her die-- She made her and She’s going to keep her in this godforsaken world as long as She wants because it’s a blessing she’s a blessing even though She hates her even though she’s cursed and cancerous and a devil’s child--

The bile itching in her throat causes her to make a disgusting sound and she continues to lose herself despite it. She is sobbing and shaking violently and she does not know where or who she is anymore and it burns, her skin burns, Mama stop it BURNS--

Tommy is standing near, watching the scene unfold, and does not understand, he cannot understand. He does not and cannot and will not ever understand, but that will not stop him and it never has before. He hasn’t seen this happen before, not like this, not so suddenly and out of nowhere, but he knew what he had to do.

He races over to her and wraps himself around her frail body, feeling her try to curl into herself, feeling her try to push herself away to writhe on the tile alone, but he does not let her, he will not let her. He's new to this whole “big brother” thing, like how she’s new to the “little sister” thing (and being cared for) but he will not allow Carrie to go through this by herself. He does not understand, but he continues on with what he feels is right, and he does not want her to push him away.

She stops struggling and cries into him. His chin resting at the top of her head as he holds her into his chest. Whispers to her to breathe with him, one...two...three-- come on, you're doing great, Carrie-- just like we’ve been practicing-- one...two..three…

Her brain stops and blanks out, and she’s scared--Are people watching? Where are they in the school? Are they still in school?--so scared, but Tommy is a sunny island in a raging sea of dark thoughts and she clung to him as she was drowning in the pitch black tide.

She tries to go along with the breathing pattern he had set for her with wet eyes and sweaty hands and slowly tries to wrap her weak arms around him as well.

She desperately wants to say thank you, so she does so in a quiet, shaking whisper (her hands are too sweaty and she can’t seem to remember how to even sign at the moment). He tells her that it's alright in a voice matching hers.

------

She is shaking.

Was shaking.

Tommy watched her shake, felt her shake, and held her while she shaked. He held her like his arms were the only things holding her together, and he’s starting to believe they very well may have been because this has happened more than once before.

Carrie was broken in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine, and he was determined to piece her back together.

He met her outside her final period class, a mythology elective (because she was a gosh dang nerd), and she looked surprised to see him standing there, smiling (she had begged Principal Morton to not call her mom and be sent home after her little episode in the hallway). She blinked at him, then looked back into the empty classroom like she was expecting one of his friends to materialize inside. Tommy laughed.

“I’m here for you, silly.” He said. “Come on.”

Carrie hesitated, wry for his sake. She took a tiny step backwards, white-knuckling the black straps of her plain red backpack, like she thought she could disappear into the painted mural of a parthenon on the back wall of the classroom (she had once told him that’s one of the reasons why she enjoyed the class so much- she liked to sometimes doze off and pretend she was in Greece, amongst powerful gods and mythical creatures. she had said she wanted a pet griffon.)

“Carrie,” Tommy scolded her patiently. “Come on. It’s okay, I promise.”

She hesitated again, then nodded and stepped out. She walked down the hall beside him with her shoulders hunched in, eyes to the ground. She was so on edge, so Tommy just decided to drop the bomb on the plans he had for the two of them before she could possibly get any worse (because he doubted she would get better).

“You’re probably wondering why you’re getting such a grand escort,” Tommy said. Carrie glanced up at him with a small nod. “Well, you see, since you agreed to be my partner in that project for Mr. Stephens’s class, I thought it would be a good idea to work on it at my house!”

Carrie froze mid-step.

“Tommy--”

A smile twitched onto Tommy’s lips. He always grinned like a dopey idiot when Carrie used his sign name. It was a descriptive name instead of an arbitrary one; the letter T at the right side of the face to give his initial and show that he had dimples, a characteristic that Carrie thought fit him the most (although she had REALLY wanted to do a sign name that would include his trademark letterman jacket, but though that making a jacket motion with the letter T would look silly). And those dimples quickly became a noteworthy feature on him because they always appeared when the sign name was used. But then they started to fade when Carrie continued to sign to him.

“--you know I can’t. My mother--”

“Tell her it’s for school.” Tommy said hurriedly, cutting her off. “It’s not a lie!”

“But she’ll get mad if she finds out I’m with a boy…”

“Then don’t tell her. Say it was mandatory or something. Say I’m a girl! Named...uhh...what’s the female version of Tommy? Oh! Tonia!”

That got a tiny smile out of Carrie. “I think that’s the girl version of T-O-N-Y.”

“Eh, close enough,” Tommy said. “So. Will you?”

Carrie looked up at him, fingers twitching with half-formed signs, then replied, “Okay.”

“Yes!!” Tommy cheered. A kid staying for after-school tutoring in a nearby classroom looked up from his desk and blinked at them from the open door. “Awesome! You’re the best, Caz!”

Carrie smiled wryly. “I try.”

The two of them walk out to the furthest parking lot, down near the Ag building and barns, which was named “Africa” by the students and teachers alike because it was so far away (nobody really knew who started calling it such a thing, it’s had that name before Tommy even got into high school, but it just stuck). It was quite the trek, which was particularly rough when raining or cold out, but it beat the front parking lot, which was creatively named “Suicide” because it was “hell to get out of” (there were seven parking lots in total: Suicide, the front one for everyone to use and is always packed; Africa, student and sports parking; Madagascar, a long stretch of lot on the side of the pig barn; Turkey, Ag barn parking; Senior Hill, senior only parking; The Den, teacher parking; and No-Man’s Land, a small, overgrown parking lot near the abandoned campus portables, which nobody really parked in because it was all gravel and pretty creepy). They climbed into Tommy’s black Jeep he had named Bessie when he got it. Carrie always thought it was weird that he named it.

“Sue named her car, too!” He had argued.

“What’s its name?” She had asked.

“Guinevere.” He had answered.

“That’s a girl's name.”

“You usually give cars girl names, Caz.”

“Oh.”

Tommy started the engine and began to pull out. Carrie was fidgeting in the passenger’s seat, eyes locked on an Ag student walking a fat white goat with a red-brown head and floppy ears around a carousel-like contraption. She worried her hands in her sleeves, then in the straps of her overalls, and then in the hem of her shirt. She looked as though she would explode if Tommy were to so much as jokingly brake check the car.

“Not even Sue was this nervous to meet my folks,” Tommy tried to joke, noticing her anxiety and hoping to help her relax a little.

“Were you nervous?” Carrie asked instead of commenting on the statement about her being nervous.

“Oh, absolutely,” Tommy admitted openly. “So don’t be embarrassed if you’re shy, okay? My parents won’t give you the ‘hurt my child and I’ll kill you’ talk like I got from Sue’s dad.”

Carrie nodded and rested her hands into her lap, watching the town flash by through the windshield. She usually didn’t sign when Tommy was driving so as to not distract him, which he appreciated, but he also sort of wished she would talk to him so there wouldn’t just be these awkward gaps of silence. But at least this gave him some time to quietly observe her--which, in a way, distracted him as much as Carrie signing to him would because he kept glancing over at her.

What made her break earlier today? What happened? What was wrong?

She was looking out the window, now, so her thick brown curls were facing him. Even in the dark, stringy abyss that was her hair, he could still make out knots and tangles and a slight sheen of oil that stated she hasn’t washed it in a day or so. Then, she cocked her head slightly and a few locks shifted, revealing her tanned shoulder and neck underneath. There, he could see patches of skin much redder than the rest. There were four in total, two on her shoulder, one on the side of her neck, and one right behind her left ear, and were about the size of a dime. They were edged with ignited crimson flesh that had maws like a frozen lake of murky grease. Crags of crusted brown flesh encircled a few of the marks and-- had they been there yesterday?

Carrie turned her head and Tommy didn't look away fast enough- his gaze lingered for just a bit too long and she noticed him staring. But she didn’t say anything. Just nonchalantly swept her hair back over her shoulders until it covered up the marks again and stole a piece of mint gum from the packet in the cup holder.

Tommy doesn’t look at her for the remainder of the drive.

Cheery yellow marigolds and pink daffodils and purple geraniums are sprouted around the side of the grey house with healthy, well-watered grass blanketed out across the front yards. Three large oak trees, encaged in a circle of wood chips cast large shadows over the ground. Stones in various shades of brown are set into the edges of the sidewalk and stoop, and they clink against each other when Carrie’s foot accidentally slipped into the rockbed. She leapt back and looked as though they were actually the last eggs of an extinct species of bird and she had just squashed them, ruining any chance of resurgence in the population. But they weren’t eggs, they were just rocks, and Tommy reminded her of this gently, also mentioning that he stepped on them all the time. It doesn’t really make her feel any better because “he lived there” so he was “allowed to stomp on whatever he wanted”, while she was “a guest” and shouldn’t “go around ruining everything”. Tommy realized that he wasn’t going to win this particular argument, so he let it go and stepped inside.

“I’m home!” He called into the house.

He walked through the front room and into the living room. His mother turned from where she was preparing dinner in the kitchen and smiled at both him and Carrie.

“Hello, sweetie,” She called back. “How was school?” She stepped away from the stove, washed her hands, then walked over to formally greet her son and the new guest.

“It was good.” Tommy said, putting his backpack on the back of one of the dining table chairs, then motioned for Carrie to do the same. “Mom, this is Carrie. Carrie, this is my mom.”

“Hello, dear,” His mother said kindly.

Carrie gave a polite smile and wave. Her hands were still fidgeting with her sleeve and Tommy couldn’t tell if she was still chewing the piece of gum she had taken from his car or if she had swallowed it. Her eyes were darting around everywhere, and not just to examine his house. She was looking for something very specific.

“Oh!” Tommy’s mother raised her hands and began to form gestures with them. “How are you?”

Carrie’s eyes went wide- like, so-wide-Tommy-worried-they-may-just-pop-out-of-her-sockets kind of wide. Her head whipped from the woman before her, then to Tommy, and then back to the woman, and she began to jitter happily. She soon got the most wonderful expression of bliss, anxiety, and triumph that Tommy had ever seen.

“You can SIGN?” She exclaimed.

Tommy’s mother laughed. “I took classes in college. Who do you think taught Tommy outside of school?”

“Tommy you didn’t tell me your mom could SIGN!!” Carrie exclaimed again, but this time to Tommy. She had a broad smile absolutely glowing on her face and was shaking Tommy’s arm, as if this was the most delightful thing that has ever happened to her (which was a little RUDE because meeting Tommy should have been in that spot!!).

“Surprise!” Tommy beamed at her.

“Tommy!!!!” Carrie released one hand from shaking Tommy to sign his sign name. “This is so cool!!!!”

“More comfortable, I hope?” Tommy said.

“A little,” Carrie said. She let go of Tommy and smiled up at him bashfully.

“Good.” Tommy said, this time audibly. “Come on, let’s go upstairs and start to work!”

They excused themselves and walked up the staircase to Tommy’s room, which was decked out in as much sport’s decorations as Carrie was expecting by the big teasing grin on her face.

“Not a peep.” Tommy warned.

“Good thing I’m mute.” Carrie replied. She looked around the room. “This is the first time I’ve been to a friend’s house. I don’t know why I expected it to be like mine.”

Tommy wasn’t surprised with that first comment. “What’s your room like?” He asked.

“Dull,” Carrie signed, and stuck her tongue out a little in distaste to enunciate the horribleness of her own bedroom. “Empty. Boring. I don’t even have pillows anymore.”

Tommy did a double take. “Wait- are you serious?”

“I’m not allowed to lie,” Carrie said, then sighed. “Completely serious.”

“Are pillows, like, against Christianity or something?” Tommy said. “I don’t remember that in the Bible. Although I’ve never read it, so…”

Carrie giggled. “You goof.” She said. “But no, it has nothing to do with religion. My mom just doesn’t trust me very much.”

“What does she think you’ll hide under there? Some playboys?” Tommy laughed.

Carrie blinked at him in innocent curiosity. “What are those?”

Tommy stopped laughing. He cleared his throat a bit too awkwardly. “Nothing, Caz, don’t worry about it,” He ruffled the top of her hair and then glided past her over to his desk. He pulled out a dark blue pen and a mostly-blank notebook from one of the drawers. “So, what do you think our story should be about?”

“Why does everyone think they can keep hiding things from me?” Carrie pressed on instead of giving him any ideas. “What is it? P-L-A-Y-B-O-Y-S.” She had to fingerspell it, which meant she didn’t know the sign for it, if it even had one, and that meant she really didn’t know what it was.

“You’re too little.” Tommy said.

“I’m not little!!” Carrie cried, and the rapid, furious formations of her hands practically equated to her yelling with her voice. As if to prove her point, she stood up straight, puffed out her chest, lifted her head regally, and looked about as grown up as a newborn sugar glider.

“See? Little.” Tommy grinned at her and she pouted. He patted her head again, then sat down on his bed. “Now, back to the project.”

“I’ll find out what it is later myself…” Carrie signed grumpily to herself.

“Caz, honey? I can see you signing.” Tommy said. “Maybe don’t sign-mumble around someone who knows ASL.”

Carrie stuck her tongue out at him, then plopped herself down beside him on the bed. She peered down at the notebook he was holding and then up at him. “What do YOU think it should be about?”

“I asked you first,” Tommy said, poking her in the stomach with his pen. She squirmed away with a giggle.

“Well--” Carrie fumbled, clearly shy. “I don’t know--”

“Spit it out.” Tommy encouraged.

“I’m mute.” Carrie signed again, like earlier, but this time it was her turn to poke him with a finger that had its nail chewed down to the painful quick.

“Sign it out.” Tommy corrected. “Come on. I know you got some good ideas in that head of yours.”

She really did. Tommy remembered how Mr. Stephens once had them draw three cards with emojis on them out of a bucket and write a story with aspects of each one. Sue had gotten a file, a girl, and a heart with an arrow through it, so she threw together a cheesy, but cute story about Cupid putting the main character’s love letter into a file that belonged to the love interest, which ended up getting them together. Chris got a globe, nails being painted, and a van, and her story ended up being Gordon Ramsy travelling around the world brutally judging and shaming nail salons on how they paint nails. He, personally, had gotten a rain cloud, a hand, and a blue heart, and after fumbling for a short while, he managed to put together a story about two star-crossed lovers coming together at a heart-shaped pond during a rainstorm, which definitely had hand holding somewhere in there. Not his best work in his opinion. But Carrie had gotten a sound effect symbol, a key, and a chair, and the outcome was a story about a man being held hostage in a room filled with high frequency, ear-splitting noises that would eventually cause all his organs to implode unless he unlocked himself and hit the off button...but the key was surgically embedded in one of his ears, which he had to scratch out and yank on to get out. It was chillingly well-written and had so much detail that Tommy and Mr. Stephens alike momentarily worried that she had gone through some type of ear trauma to the same degree. But she had merely laughed when this concern was brought up.

“Well?”

“What if we did horror?”

“Horror?”

“Yeah!” Carrie was unraveling from her shell a little bit more, letting her ideas fall from her fingers as she formed the story in her hands. “Like-- what if it was about this person who usually works a shift that has them away from home a lot of the time when everyone else is. The night shift, I think? Sorry, I don’t know jobs. Anyway, their shift gets changed to the day shift and they stop being nocturnal. The next morning after this change, they see their neighbor smiling at them from the front porch when they step out to get the mail. They think nothing of it, but then it keeps happening. The neighbor is always smiling from the porch. And then it’s revealed that the actual neighbor is a woman and she was murdered and her body is rotting in the house and the smiling guy was the killer and the protagonist didn’t know that because they were always working the night shift and never met their neighbors!!” She finished with a radiant smile and expectant eyes. Her expression practically screamed, Praise me! Praise me! Tell me how smart I am! How creative I am! How good I am! Please, please do it!

“Aren’t you a little Edgar Allen Poe in training?” Tommy teased, ruffling her hair. “That’s an awesome idea!”

Carrie blushed, shy again. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if we did it?”

“Not at all!” Tommy said. “Let’s do it!”

And so, they began to storyboard and then draft, bouncing dialogue options off of each other and taking turns writing, their drastically different penmanship (Tommy’s was surprisingly more curved and pristine, while Carrie’s was blocky and had sharp edges like ancient text in a prehistoric scroll) a glistening, inky contrast on the pages.

It was currently Carrie’s turn to write and she was fervently scrawling intense detail about the false-neighbor’s impossibly wide smile on the page. Tommy studied her, watching her wordlessly murmur back the things she wrote to herself before continuing on quickly like she thought she had a time limit on what she was allowed to write in one day. She was very focused, but at least calmer than she was earlier. Still, the curiosity was eating away at Tommy- he desperately wanted to know what had set her off at school.

“Can I brush your hair?”

Carrie looked up in an instant and instinctively touched her hair. The natural brown curls were coiled awkwardly at the tips, individual strands sticking out in places, and it had lost its softness, suggesting that it was in desperate need of a good washing and brushing. She blushed slightly, thinking that Tommy must have thought it was gross or messy.

“I do it all the time for Sue, believe it or not,” Tommy went on, trying to seem harmless in his request, which he was, but Carrie had more walls up than anyone he had ever met before. He just wanted to help her relax a little more, and maybe even open up to him because Sue liked to share things when she got her hair brushed. Carrie may, too.

Carrie hesitated longer. Truthfully, she trusted Tommy, she really did, perhaps more than she ever trusted anyone, aside from Miss Gardener- not that there was much competition in that regard, granted. Tommy, she knew, she /hoped/, was a good guy. Even before they became friends, he had never done anything to hurt her or betray her trust, instead just staying out of the bullying or even sometimes dispersing it and unknowingly saving her in some cases. That trustworthiness and safety he provided, constantly, was undeniable and reassuring. She appreciated it greatly.

But on the other hand, she had never felt comfortable letting people touch her. Okay, well, that was a lie. She was extremely touch starved. She was more wary of new touch, because, in her experience, it could only bring pain in the long run. Letting people get close, generally, was something she avoided on an instinctual level, not that anyone ever really tried to get close to her before freshman year. Pushing everyone away had become her brand. Only recently did she start breaking that habit, letting Tommy work her out of her shell, but it was still a long, slow process. Becoming friends with him, despite everyone he’s close to at school, was not a choice that came easily, and perhaps, in hindsight, it was made too quickly for her comfort. There was no going back now, though. Maybe in an odd way, that was what she needed. An environment that made getting close to someone a must.

Glancing at Tommy with a thoughtful look, she fiddled with one of her curls, which felt stringy and rough when she wrapped it around her finger. If there was a person she could trust with it, it would surely have to be Tommy. The choice was obvious.

“Sure,” She signed to him. She wrinkled her nose at his goofy smile. “You jellyfish.”

“Ow! I’m hurt!” Tommy cried dramatically. “Me? A jellyfish? How could you say such a thing?!”

Carrie giggled.

“I’m going to go grab a brush.”

Tommy whisked out of the bedroom, but returned moments later with a blue brush in his hands. It was worlds away from Carrie’s wooden, black-bristled one.

Tommy sat back down on the bed and Carrie turned her back to him, letting him have full view of her dark brown mane. Closing her eyes, Carrie took a deep breath. Why was she so nervous? This wasn't anything she should have been nervous over and yet...it felt almost like a test of trust for them. A trust fall that could make or break all her progress with Tommy.

“I’m going to start now, okay?” Tommy told her. She appreciated the hesitation and patience more than she’d ever like to admit.

“Go ahead,” She signed, straightening her back. “Be gentle, please? I know my hair may be a bit knotty right now, but try not to pull…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” Tommy assured her. After a moment, he started running his fingers through Carrie’s hair, slowly and gently. It was smart, he congratulated himself for. It was going to be easier to find and get rid of any knots this way.

Carrie was starting to relax; he could feel the muscles in her upper back lose some tension and her shoulder blades stopped being stiff, featherless wings poised beneath her skin. So far, she wasn't getting hurt, and the touch was surprisingly pleasant. Tommy really did know what he was doing.

“You do this with Sue?”

Tommy had to peek over her shoulder to see the signs, but managed to make out what she said without asking her to repeat herself. “Yup!” He confirmed proudly. “I’m really good at it too, huh? I am an expert at all the styles! The cheerleaders and dance team should higher me to french braid their hair.”

Carrie giggled at that mental image. And then--

“Ow!!”

Tommy froze. He had accidentally pulled on a knot too hard and Carrie shouted, verbally shouted, and recoiled in pain. He pulled his hands back instantly as she leaned forward, breathing heavily in a way that suggested that the hair pulling had given her more than just a shock of discomfort. Her eyes wide open from astonishment, her hands shaking.

It’s been a while since anybody pulled her hair, but she remembered the pain and humiliation clearly. After all, it was a constant for most of her life, and was far from the worst thing she had experienced, but even so, it was not pleasant to be reminded of that.

“Caz? Carrie? Are you okay?” Tommy asked, worry thick in his voice. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you alright?”

Carrie took a deep breath and leaned back slowly. She nodded.

“Yes,” She signed with hands that were still shaking slightly. “I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy said guilty.

“It’s okay,” She signed. “It happens sometimes.” She wasn’t as relaxed as she was at the start, but pulled herself together pretty well regardless. After a short moment of hesitation, she felt the brush on her hair again, gently stroking down. Slowly and carefully at first, growing more steady overtime as her hair was getting smoother.

“Caz?”

“Hmm?” Carrie hummed. Her eyes were closed in contentment. Wonderful tingles and sparks were crackling through her scalp with every stroke of the brush. She had forgotten how nice it felt to get her hair played with. She could fall asleep to this feeling…

“What happened earlier today? At school?” There’s worry in Tommy’s voice. The topic alarmed Carrie, and she tried to shake herself back into awareness, but her hair being brushed just felt so nice…

“Nothing,” She signed with lazy flicks of her hands. “Just something dumb that happened with my mom. It was on my mind for a while. And then I heard something that reminded me of it and I just kind--snapped--I guess.”

Tommy frowned. At the same moment as she said that, he swept her hair to the side and saw those marks again. Up close, he could make out that they were definitely scabs of some sorts. He thought they may be burns by the pale, pus-like glaze over the expanse of each blemish. Burns from a cooking class at school, maybe? The grease they use did sometimes fly. But the marks looked way too big to be grease burns and Carrie didn’t have any cooking electives. So what were they? What had happened to her?

Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask.

This replayed in Tommy’s head over and over again as he combed Carrie’s hair into one big mass in his left hand. He set the brush aside and began to part the hair into three portions, feeling Carrie lurch slightly.

“Shh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.” Tommy shushed her gently.

Carrie relaxed again. He even felt her lean her head back into his hands and breathe out the softest sign of contentment.

With a wrench of his heart, he wondered when the last time she was ever treated with such gentleness was.

“Do you…” Tommy exhales, unsure if his next words are going to be the right ones. The curiosity is killing him. “Do you, I don’t know, wanna talk about it? It’s cool if you don’t, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.” He dragged his fingers through one of the three groups of hair. “I know it helps for some people, getting everything out. Sue will, like, make these bracelets with beads that have letters on them and she’ll spell out what’s bothering her. Then she will cut it up or burn it or do something and that’s how she’ll get over, or at least cope, with something. If that makes sense.”

“No, no, it does.” Carrie signed. “That’s really cool, actually. Good for her.” Pause. She fumbled with her hands. “I just-- I don’t think talking is gonna help right now. I’m already thinking about things too much. Don’t really want to fuel the fire.” Another pause. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay!” Tommy said hurriedly. “I understand!”

There’s a beat of silence. Carrie is leaning into his hands again and making tiny cooing noises.

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” He chuckled.

“Mhm…” Carrie nodded sleepily. He wondered how well she slept at night, especially without a pillow.

“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep,” Tommy said.

That seemed to jar Carrie slightly.

“Mmm--” She tried to sit up and shake herself awake, but it was obvious she was quite tired. Her breakdown at school probably took a lot out of her, and then to continue school activities afterward-- Tommy would be exhausted if he were her. And it seemed that she really was.

“No, hey--” Tommy grabbed her shoulder, but let go instantly when she flinched. “It’s okay, Caz. You can take a nap if you want.”

Carrie blushed. “N-no, that’s-- That’ll be weird. I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No.”

“When did you last sleep?”

It took Carrie by surprise. Tommy finished the loose braid and she turned to him quickly after, blinking tired eyes at him. She definitely didn’t get a good rest last night, if she got any at all.

He wondered if it was from the strange marks on her neck and shoulder.

“A day ago?” Carrie admitted.

“Carrie…” Tommy sighed. “That’s not good for you, you know. You need sleep.”

“I know,” Carrie ruffled. “I just--” Her fluttering hands snapped into tightly clenched fists when the sound of the doorbell resonated through the house. Tommy looked up and could faintly hear his mom greeting someone, then footsteps ascending the staircase.

“This conversation isn’t over.” He told Carrie sternly, then got up to go into the hallway and see who it was coming up. “Oh! Sue!”

After the initial greetings and a kiss hello, the couple walked back into Tommy’s bedroom. Sue seemed surprised to see Carrie sitting on the bed.

“Oh, Carrie,” She said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Hi, Sue,” Carrie signed. Her eyes are half lidded, now, and even the simple signing of a greeting is sloppy.

“We were working on the project for Mr. Stephens,” Tommy informed his girlfriend.

“Ah,” Sue nodded. She peered at Carrie, who had her head slouched ever so slightly. “You look tired.”

“She hasn’t slept for a day,” Tommy told her worriedly.

“I don’t need sleep.” Carrie declared stubbornly. She has her head lifted and eyes open completely, but it seemed uncomfortable for her to do so.

“I can’t understand you,” Sue said, “but from that look you have I’m assuming you think you could stay awake forever if you wanted to.” She tilted her head at Carrie with a warm smile. “It doesn’t work like that, you know. You need sleep, sweetie.”

That made Carrie falter. Her jaw fell open and she blinked at Sue’s soft expression, then closed her mouth and blushed faintly. She glared grumpily at Tommy.

“Why is she so nice?” She signed angrily.

Tommy laughed and wrapped an arm around Sue’s shoulder. “Because she’s amazing!”

“What?” Sue asked, looking up at him. “What did she say?”

“She asked why you’re so nice,” Tommy told her. “Which is very true. Also you REALLY need to take ASL!”

“I already have my language credits,” Sue said.

“Well, so do I, but I’m still taking the class!”

“I have no room in my schedule.”

“Then get rid of something! You don’t need that medical class, right? You’re already smart!”

Sue laughed. “Yes, but probably not smart enough to-- Oh! Carrie!”

The little freshman was nodding off, tipping off of the bed, and would have smacked her face against the hardwood floor if Sue hadn’t cried out. She jolted backwards, eyes wide with fright, and Tommy immediately went over to her side, quickly followed by Sue.

“Carrie,” Tommy said, “you need to rest. You’re /tired/.”

“No.” Carrie signed stubbornly, although her eyes were barely open. Just a day without sleeping seemed to wring her dry, but, then again, she didn’t exactly have a great metabolism, or much energy to burn with how small she was. It’s no surprise that she got tired so easily, but added with the weight of her breakdown and not being able to properly recover from that because of classes--she must have felt like she’s been awake for weeks.

But there was something else, too. Her avoidance towards rest seemed to be more long-running than her just thinking it was impolite to do so at someone else’s house because she looked up at Tommy, her dull eyes glazed with fatigue and fear, and signed, “Please, Tommy. Don’t make me sleep.”

It was heartbreaking. The way she looked at him dug barbed claws into his chest and ripped his heart right out. He couldn’t possibly force her to do something she didn’t want to now, but…

“I’m sorry, Carrie.” He said. “You need to rest.”

He swore he saw betrayal flicker in Carrie’s eyes and the barbed claws tore back into the open wound in his chest. He bit his tongue to keep himself from revoking his statement, which was a struggle because he really, REALLY wanted to now.

Carrie turned her head to Sue, her gaze helpless as she began to sway slightly. Her hands were clenching open and close as if she thought she could claw herself back to wakefulness.

“Sue,” She signed clumsily, desperately. “Don’t let me sleep. My Mama-- I have to-- prayers-- have to go home-- gonna die-- nightmares--”

Sue steadied Carrie. The younger girl whimpered, desperation shining in her dark eyes. Sue looked at her with great care.

“It’s going to be okay, Carrie.” She murmured to her. “Just rest. You’re exhausted, sweetie. You deserve to relax. Don’t worry, we’ll get you home.”

The pet name seemed to hit Carrie like a rag of chloroform to her face because she slouched over into her arms a mere second later, asleep--or unconscious. Her chest rose and fell in long, peaceful movements, and her face was as still as the couple had ever seen it. The tortured expression that seemed to be permanently etched into her features since she was a child was gone for now.

“She’s cuddly,” Sue commented with an endeared chuckle. Even in unconsciousness, Carrie still curled into her like a kitten seeking warmth. She stroked her head, running her fingers down the laces of the braid. “Cute, too. Did you ask your mom if you could keep her?” She looked at Tommy with a teasing grin, but it fell when she saw his guilty expression. “Tommy? What’s wrong?”

“Did you see the way she looked at me?” Tommy said. He clenched his hands against his jeans. “She looked like I had stabbed her.” He swallowed thickly. “What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

“Oh, darling,�� Sue cooed. “You big sweetheart.” She moved one arm that was holding Carrie to take Tommy’s hand. “She’ll forgive you. I know she will. She looks up to you a lot. I don’t think she would want to lose you.”

Tommy smiled slightly. “You always know what to say.”

“I learn from the best,” Sue winked at him. She looked down when Carrie stirred slightly against her, making a tiny noise before settling. “I never thought i’d be holding my boyfriend’s sleeping pet fish.”

“Hsst.” Tommy jabbed her side. “She’s not my ‘pet fish’.”

“If you say so!” Sue laughed. Her laughter died off, however, when she noticed the marks on Carrie’s neck and shoulder, and her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Oh my…”

“Do you know what those are?” Tommy asked. “I was wondering about that but didn’t want to ask her. I thought that maybe they’re grease stains? I’ve seen that stuff fly before when cooking so they might--”

“Tommy,” Sue breathed out in horror. “These are cigarette burns.”

#sue is absolutely the Mom Friend and you can pry that from my cold dead fingers #carrie #carrie the musical #broadway kids carrie #carrie white #sue snell #tommy ross #carrie fanfiction #carrie fanfic #my writing #a place to rest

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science-lings · 4 years ago

Text

OC Masterlist

Quick intros for my OCs as I’m going to write about them and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Rosalia Scarlett Dawn AKA Rose-

My main girl, healing powers, the MCU version of her was recruited by SHIELD right after she got her first PHD after she was caught studying alien biology, takes her a while to become an actual superhero as her healing powers were hard to convert into anything that she could put on the field, with help from her anti-hero/ villain nemesis who she has had sexual tension with ever since they shared a dorm in medical school but then she became unethical and ignorant of the people around her ergo turning into a bad guy. Rose is usually good and wholesome but she has a dark destructive side that was awoken after her nemesis used her powers on her. Rose is selfless to the point of not taking care of herself because any time spent not helping people with her powers is time wasted in her eyes and she tends to take medical cases that no one else can, usually pertaining to other powered people, aliens, magic illnesses, etc.

Roses Intro Sheet - SHIELD & Hydra

Andromeda Starling-

Roses endgame girlfriend, shapeshifter, in the MCU she accidentally used a Hydra spaceship to escape the planet as her parents were both scientists involved with that kind of thing. She didn’t really think it through and she ended up on a skrull refugee planet where she crash landed and had to be enhanced to save her life. She’s not good at teamwork and tends to be a loner as she’s afraid to get close to people. She hates being bossed around and work with other people. She can do most on her own just fine. She hates having to admit she needs help with something. She’s a pretty decent pilot and prefers swords over guns. If she likes someone enough to become attached, she get’s very protective and even a bit clingy but that rarely happens.

Andromeda’s Intro Sheet - Andromeda Portrait - Simple Lesbians - B&W Portrait

Adisa Crow AKA Doctor Plague-

Roses nemesis, she was subtly jealous of Roses powers so she secretly tried to recreate them, instead the outcome gave her powers that could reverse other’s powers against them and make normal people ill. She became a virus in every sense of the word and even tech malfunctions around her. But her powers affect herself a little, making her go a little crazy over time and more willing to do fucked up things in the name of science. Yes she wears a plague doctor mask that helps her powers not affect herself. Her powers also heighten her negative feelings and only give her relief when she uses her powers on other people as it hates being restricted. She’s given up on being free of it and has embraced her role as a super-plague. It’s actually kind of sad really...

Adisa Crow Portrait - Nemesis Tension

Phoenix AKA Maat (Matt) Ramses-

Necromancer goth mom, grew up an orphan with the sorcerers of Kamar Taj as her parents were wakandan sorcerers who died protecting the reality and the ancient one sensed her magic potential, however she wasn’t great at the normal magic that they tried to teach her. She had to steal forbidden books about necromancy to really get a hold of her powers. She left the sorcerers and found others like her, connected to death, and she made a family. but eventually she would have to investigate her roots in wakanda and it may not be pretty. She inherited her parents relics, a gold sword with a hilt of wings and a gold helmet based on the helms of the egyptian pharaohs. Maat didn’t quite work as a vigilante, she just was drawn to people that needed her help and she literally can’t stop herself from intervening when humanity can be so terrible. Anyway she hates cops and abusers and rapists and all that and she does her best to help the people that they hurt.

Phoenix Portrait - Open Helmet Idea - The magic relics

Diana Schmitt-

Trans girl mutant who can control and melt metal and glass, making her own weapons on the fly and using debris to her advantage. Her left arm and her right leg were frozen off by anti-mutant extremists and she makes herself prosthetics with her powers made of glass shards that she can use and layers of different kinds of metal with the outside being gold because she likes the aesthetic. She’s covered in scars from the torture and from her own forging projects. She loves making things and does her best to be positive and kind to other people but trauma is still trauma and superheroes aren’t known for going to therapy. She has PTSD and gets triggered by excessive cold and dark places. She has to learn to confront her pain and move beyond it, while also going to therapy and stuff.

Diana Portrait - Pride Month Portrait - Early Intro Sheet

Guinevere Kaimana-

literally a mermaid who spent several decades under the water as a hermit and has water powers and electric eel levels of electric powers. (until she’s at her most powerful but still not more than like some thunder in a tropical storm, she can’t like summon lighting to strike people or anything.) In the MCU she’s a mutant who left after her mutation out of fear of rejection and in my fantasy version of my OC universe she’s a pirate mermaid princess. She figured out how to temporarily turn her tail into a tail shaped skirt and tattoos on her legs similar to fishnet tights. She can’t stay human for very long and when she’s human she has to be fully hydrated or she could die. She has an enemies to competitors to friends to lovers with Diana and it’s a very slow burn.

Gwen Pride Portrait - mermay

Alexandria Iriklitis-

Superhero therapist with a magic voice. Her singing can manipulate the emotions of anyone that can hear it, even through recordings and microphones and stuff, and eventually she can use it to control objects around her through levitation and even destroying the area around her if she’s emotionally charged and loud enough (which happens when she goes temporarily deaf and thinks that she can’t responsibly use her powers anymore.) She has to be very careful with her powers as music is already made to affect peoples emotions but with her powers, any miscalculation can be destructive. Someone may have bad memories of a happy song and elevate those bad feelings. So she usually depends on non-lyrical songs and her own improvisation skills. In my fantasy OC universe she’s a magic bard that’s drawn to chaos and flirts with everyone because she’s a bard. She tries not to use her magic voice to make people do things they don’t want to do, she tries to not rely on it to get whatever she wants.

Alex Portrait

Artemis Dawn-

Roses non-powered sister who is a SHEILD agent that struggles with living in her sisters shadow. They go through an arc of repairing their relationship and get to the point of being very close and killing for each other. Artemis specializes in sharpshooting, martial arts, and disguises. She uses makeup and clothing and wigs to completely change her appearance to a point where even the people that know her best won’t recognize her. In the fantasy AU universe she dresses up as a man to become a knight after being shamed out of her princess status. She’s a badass and deals with a major inferiority complex and has to prove that she’s just as good as her superpowered sister. When hydra takes over shield, she has to save her sister from their clutches and causes Roses first power burst that kills the hydra agents by forcing their bones to grow together to turn them into grotesque body horror statues. Fun. Artemis has a cold hard exterior but softens up around her sister and it confuses her colleagues to no end. Not many people knew she could smile outside of a role.

Artemis Portrait

Unreleased art under the cut!

Gwen without face paint and weird colors, yes her lips are blue all the time

pride drawing for Rose

Phoenix and Diana as part of a mass drawing of my ocs that I gave up on but I liked the way they both looked in it so here it is now.

old headshot when i wanted to experiment with Roses mask

angry freckles

minor oc, i do actually think i posted it but I haven’t made enough about them to know what I want them to be besides absolutely bangin with their character design

COMMISSIONS I’VE HAD DONE OF THEM

Andromeda by tinymintywolf

Anthro Rose by scriiblesbymarti on insta i couldn’t find them on here oof

Spider-rose that I won by emkayoh

rose icon by tinymintywolf

#OC masterlist #send me asks about them #i wanna talk about them #im going to write about them whether you guys like it or not so here's your chance of having a choice in what it ends up being

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notbecauseofvictories · 6 years ago

Note

For the meme - morgana and/or gwen, either from bbc merlin or the larger mythos lol

The Kingdom of Gorre is mostly cold, and wet. Guinevere gets used to seeing her breath fog before her and turning her face down as she hurries from out-building to castle, trying to save her paints and powders from the pissing rain. It is always raining, in the Kingdom of Gorre.

When she tells this to Arthur, he laughs, but it is a pained, abortive sound sound. “The things we endure for family,” he says at last, with an insincere smile. (Guinevere has been told of how the branches of the Pendragon family tree twist; still, it surprises her that Arthur will acknowledge it, even in so sideways a fashion. However much she loves and honors her husband, he is a bad liar, a worse politician; he fares better when he ignores such ugly truths entirely.)

Still—it suits, somehow. That the Kingdom of Gorre should be wet, grey as iron and cold as sea-washed silt. Guinevere knows that the marriage between Morgana and King Uriens is one of political expedience. For all the many weddings that begin in ignorance and fear before flowering to joy, there are those that curdle into bitterness instead. Despite Ywain, who is a handsome, happy child, the marriage of Morgana and Uriens is that.

Guinevere watches her at dinner, at dinner after dinner. Most of their visits to Arthur’s allies’ kingdoms feature dinner heavily. And there at dinner is Morgana, whom Guinevere’s people call le Fay—the witch, the fairy. They say being passed over for Arthur, the unhappiness of her marriage drove her to demonic arts and black magics, and other sorts of unspeakable things. They say that all Gorre’s strength came from Morgana’s art, though it folded before the sunlit Christ-anointed Arthur; there are rumors that Ywain was conceived by such profane arts, though Guinevere doubt that entirely.

(If one could have a child by swearing a pact with fairies or demons, Guinevere would not be in Gorre at all—she would be on bedrest in Camelot with her third, perhaps her fourth. She would be birthing Arthur’s children the way rabbits do: in litters of seven.)

All that being as it is: Guinevere watches Morgana.

Guinevere finds that she is dark, and slight, and there is nothing about her that might suggest she is more than a cunning woman placed at the unfortunate left hand of a king. A hnefatafl piece, moved about the board by her brother and husband. Guinevere finds she is almost sorrowful for it. She had been expecting le Fay, and there is only this girl, not so much older than Guinevere herself, who was bowed to others’ will.

The cup is passed around, again and again, to Arthur, to the knights of his kingdom and Uriens’, who lose themselves to stories, boasting of jousts, green (green! it makes Guinevere want to laugh) men who came to challenge their courage. Grails and questing beasts and wives, women, angels, all clad in samite and—

Guinevere startles at the touch of a hand at her wrist. “Queen of Camelot,” Morgana says, and so close, her eyes are dark as stone lashed by the rain of the Kingdom of Gorre. “My lady, my sister. Will you not drink?”

“You offer me the bowl?” Guinevere asks. It is an audacity, even so late in the evening—the men are drunk enough not to notice what passes among the women, but Guinevere is not, and neither are most of the ladies in the room. High-born and low, she can feel the wives, handmaids, harpists, serving girls, watching her, marking how she will respond.

“I do, my Queen,” Morgana says smoothly, presenting the ornate goblet to her. “If you like, you may tell me a tale of a woman in samite, to prove your worthiness.”

Guinevere smiles, despite herself. “I have no tales of women in samite.“

“Then perhaps you have cut off some unchivalrous man’s head,” Morgana says, and the corner of her mouth is ticked up, just slightly.

“Ah,” Guinevere says, with a regret she does not feel, “alas, no. I have only accepted head when it was offered freely.”

Morgana, called le Fay, laughs aloud at that. “My Queen,” she says, “my sister, my lady. For that alone, you must drink.”

Guinevere graciously accepts the goblet, watching the claret slosh in the cup. “Do you know,” she says absently, “it always rains here.”

“Yes,” Morgana answers in that same, placid tone. “Always. The king and the land are one, you know. And if the king is—well, sometimes the land chooses to be one with the queen instead.”

“I see,” Guinevere says, and lifts the goblet to her lips.

(Later that evening, Morgana will take the goblet and press her mouth to that same spot, where Guinevere’s painted lip left a smudge of color. She will recite incantations, and wear Guinevere’s skin, and then she will fuck Arthur in the bed meant for him to share with Guinevere. And Guinevere will hate Arthur, and hate—something else, bigger than any one of them, but she will never hate Morgana. Every time she tries, she thinks of that slim, dark girl; the witch, the fairy. She thinks of heads, bleeding on pikes. She thinks of the rain.)

#I refuse to go back to merlin bbc that is the place where the light doesn't touch #the elephant graveyard of the early 00s #arthurian legend #diiiiid I write this just so gwen and morgana could have chemistry and exchange ''giving head'' jokes #I mean it's not NOT that #katyliz415 #this is a thing I made

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merlins-thoughts · 5 years ago

Text

Sweeter Dreams

A Merthur Fic

Word Count: 1916

From this prompt: https://kinksofcamelot.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=519694#t519694

Sent in by @arthur-of-the-pendragons

~An alternate ending to Season 2, Episode 10, “Sweet Dreams”~

Summary: Arthur is under a love spell and about to fight King Olaf to the death, so naturally, Merlin tells Gwen to kiss Arthur to break the spell. Merlin assumes Gwen is Arthur’s true love. Gwen disagrees.

In which Merlin and Arthur are oblivious idiots and Gwen is the only one with common sense.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Gwen? GWEN?! Gwen it’s an emergency!” Merlin yelled while pounding on her door. Guinevere groaned and opened her eyes. It was her day off and she had been planning to spend it having a lie-in, but here she was, awakened at dawn by a half-deranged Merlin. She rolled onto her side, facing Lancelot, who looked about as exhausted and annoyed as she felt. He rolled his eyes.

“So much for the lie-in,” he grumbled.

“Please let me in Gwen,” Merlin begged, “I’m sorry about the flower mix up. It was all my fault, not Arthur’s, don’t blame him. He really likes you, Gwen, and he needs your help!” She sighed and began gathering up Lancelot’s things.

“Are they still doing this?” Lancelot asked.

“They’re both still completely oblivious, if that’s what you’re asking,” Gwen replied.

“He still thinks you’re in love with Arthur?” Lancelot questioned, disbelieving.

“Yes. Only now it involves Lady Vivian. Inexplicably. I don’t know, Lance, Arthur was acting oddly infatuated with her yesterday. Maybe he’s trying to make Merlin jealous, or maybe he’s just too thick to recognize what he’s feeling. Either way,” she said as the pounding on the door became more vigorous, “You have to go. Merlin’s not going to give up on this one. You can go out through the back window, just be careful to avoid the guards by the South Gate.” She gave him a hurried kiss before yelling towards the door, “Yes Merlin, just a moment. I need to get dressed.”

In truth, she thought it was rather sweet how worried Merlin was about hurting her. In his mind, she was Arthur’s future wife. In reality, however, she was a past flame of Arthur’s at best, her time with Lancelot effectively killing any lingering feelings she had towards the Prince. Merlin, on the other hand, was painfully infatuated with him. Gwen would watch half in amusement and half in pity as Merlin poured himself into the Prince’s every whim. Arthur and Merlin were like an old married couple, always together, always bickering, but each willing to lay down their life for the other without hesitation. Gwen thought it should be obvious to everyone by now, what with the amount of, frankly, indecent eye contact that occurred between the two. However, as usual, she was the first to uncover the truth, enlisting Lancelot’s help in scheme after scheme to get the two together. It never worked, and now Merlin thought that Arthur was in love with her.

She couldn’t help but feel responsible for that particular unfortunate side effect. In an attempt to coax Arthur into a state of emotional vulnerability wherein he may finally pull his royal head out of his princely ass, she spent more time with him than perhaps was advisable for a chambermaid. Merlin walked in on their conversations several times, and each time she could see a moment of unguarded pain in his eyes before he managed to cover it with his stubborn cheerfulness. All of this tension came to a boiling point two days ago, when Arthur woke up, apparently deeply in love with Lady Vivian. This sparked a series of ridiculous, farcical events that turned out to be more than Gwen could follow, so she decided to leave it be. Generally, she believed, things have a way of working themselves out, so she spent the next 48 hours trying her best to avoid the castle altogether. Unfortunately, she thought, as she remembered the agitated Merlin on the other side of her door, it appeared the problem had found her. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for what was almost certainly going to be some sort of magic-fueled nonsense.

A few moments later she unbolted the door, stepping out of the way as Merlin spilled frantically into the room.

“Oh Gwen, thank goodness. I need you to follow me right now. Arthur’s in trouble,” then he took off running out the door again, checking over his shoulder to make sure she was following. She ran after him, a pit of worry growing in her stomach despite herself. As she climbed the stairs to Arthur’s chamber, she finally caught up with Merlin and noticed that he was shaking. Whatever was happening to Arthur had deeply upset him, and Gwen felt bitter guilt well up within her for trying to ignore the problem. Merlin opened the chamber door and there stood Arthur, half dressed in his armor and practicing his footwork.

“He’s dueling Olaf in twenty minutes,” Merlin panted, “it’s to the death.”

“That’s awful, Merlin,” Gwen said. Then a beat, “But I’m not quite sure how I can help with that.”

“You need to kiss him.”

“What? Merlin! Honestly. This is ridiculous.”

“Gwen,” he said, looking her in the eye for the first time since entering the chamber, “It’s a love spell. He’s under a love spell. And Vivian too, I think. Olaf caught them together and threw down his gauntlet. Arthur said—” the pain in Merlin’s eyes was palpable now, “He said that you can’t choose who you love. And then he picked it up. It’s not real. It’s a love spell, Gwen,” he was rambling, “I know Arthur, I know him. He doesn’t fall in and out of love that fast. He just needs you to kiss him and it should snap him out of the spell.”

“Why me?” Gwen asked.

“What do you mean?” Merlin replied, slowing down for the first time all morning.

“Why do I have to kiss him?” Merlin looked puzzled.

“Because you’re his true love. A kiss from his true love should break the spell.” The answer hit Gwen like a blow to the chest. Then she started to laugh, a surprised chuckle at first but growing stronger until she could no longer speak. Both Arthur and Merlin paused to stare at her. The absurdity of their matching expressions only made her laugh harder.

“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Merlin snapped.

“It’s not—It’s not me. I’m not— I’m not—,” but she was laughing too hard to get the words out. Instead, she grabbed Merlin by the shoulders and gently shoved him toward Arthur, who still stood, mouth agape, with his sword in one hand, a miniature portrait of Lady Vivian dropping out of the other and clattering on the floor.

Merlin gave a nervous chuckle, “Um, Gwen? We only have about seventeen minutes, so can you do the kissing first and the total break from reality second?”

“Gods, Merlin,” Gwen said, finally catching her breath and wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes, “I’m not his true love. You are.”

“Don’t be stupid. How would I be his true love. He loves you. That doesn’t make any sense,” Merlin retorted, taking several hurried steps away from Arthur.

“It would make perfect sense if either of you possessed any observational skills whatsoever,” Gwen said, pushing him back towards the Prince.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing,” Merlin was visibly panicking now, pacing up and down the room, “but Arthur is going to die if his true love doesn’t kiss him right now.”

“All the more reason for you to kiss him,” she was yelling, trying to drown out stupidity with volume. It didn’t drown out the stupidity entirely, but at least it made Merlin stop pacing long enough for her to grab his hand and place it forcefully in Arthur’s.

“What in the name of the gods is going on,” Merlin said, trying to pull away, “would someone care to explain in to me or am I just supposed to exist out here wallowing in confusion while I watch you laugh yourself into an early grave over this man’s coming death?” But Gwen just held their hands together tighter, fixing Merlin with a pointed stare before glancing back at the complete befuddlement on Arthur’s face. And here, cradling both their hands in hers, she allowed herself, just for a moment, to imagine what it would be like if she were Arthur’s true love. But a moment was all she needed. She knew where she stood and she knew who she loved, and it was not this man.

“No, Merlin. It has to be you.” The tenderness in her voice seem to catch Merlin off guard. He hesitated.

“Fine. Like this idiot said, you can’t choose who you love, and he loves you. But fine. Know that I’m only doing this to prove you wrong,” the vitriol in Merlin’s voice was in stark opposition to the anxiety painted over his every feature. Gwen nodded encouragingly as Merlin looked down, drew a shaky breath and then, with the frustrated resignation of a man who believes he has nothing left to lose, he touched his forehead to Arthur’s. Arthur immediately froze in confusion, and Gwen watched for several moments as Merlin gathered up his resolve and pressed his lips to the Prince’s forcefully. At first, Arthur only stood, stiff as a board. But then slowly, like a river thawing after a long winter, Arthur began to move. His sword clattered to the ground as he took Merlin’s face in both of his hands, fingers reaching to curl into his hair. Merlin broke the kiss abruptly, breathing heavily and staring at Arthur, eyes full of incredulity. Arthur’s face held a similar expression of disbelief. He gave Merlin a tired smile, still half in a magic-fueled fog.

He ran his hands down to Merlin’s hips, pulling him close and saying, “I’m not at all sure how we got here, but I’m glad we did.”

“That would be thanks to me, actually,” Gwen spoke up, not even trying to keep the smugness out of her voice, “I believe I owe Merlin an ‘I told you so’.”

Merlin flushed, immediately trying to hide it with an impressive eye roll, “Oh gods, I’m never going to live this down am I? ‘Little Merlin gets so lost in his own self-pity that he misses the obvious’?”

“In your defence,” Gwen teased, “Arthur played a similarly idiotic part. I’m sorry for meddling but honestly, you two, I don’t know what you would have done if left to your own devices. It would have taken centuries for either of you to pay enough attention to your feelings to make any sort of a move.

Arthur, still baffled and clutching at Merlin but chuckling now as well, stuttered, “Can I—can I repay you in any way? I’ll give you a village. I’ll give you five villages. A hundred villages. Anything you want, just name it.”

“As tempting as ‘a hundred villages’ is,” Gwen smiled, “I think I must decline. Instead, how about you bring Lancelot out of exile and let us both take tomorrow morning off.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at Merlin, who wore a look of dawning realization. “Ohhhh,” he breathed quietly, “Yes. Of course. Consider it done.” Gwen smiled to herself as she imagined tomorrow’s lie-in, returning from her daydream just in time to catch Arthur grinning at Merlin while intertwining their hands.

“I’ll just be off then,” she said, silently congratulating herself on a job well done. She was almost to the stairs when she heard Arthur’s voice from the doorway of his chambers.

“Gwen!” he shouted. She turned and looked at him, smiling, “Thank you.” She nodded and turned back, walking down the stairs and away from the giggling emanating from the Prince’s chambers. She and Lancelot weren’t going to be the only ones having a lie-in tomorrow.

#merthur #fanfic #fanfiction #merthur fanfic #bbc merlin #merlin #Arthur Pendragon #merlin and arthur #emrys #merlin emrys

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asher-blackwood · 6 years ago

Text

Into The Light chapter 5

The smell of old books, herbs, and citrus oil fills his nose as he wakes. It seams he dozed of in a large leather arm chair made soft and comfortable with age. He yawns and stretches the small through falling off his shoulders. The room he finds himself in is warm, cozy, and familiar to him some how. The walls are lined with book cases but they are all closed and locked. The may trinkets and paintings in the room are all slightly out of focus, and no matter how many times he rubs his eyes this does not change. After a few moments a light chuckle reaches his ears and he is very surprised to find an elderly wizard sitting in the chair across from him. "Hello there William. It's nice to finally be able to meet you." Bill blinks, this man wasn't there a moment ago and yet it's as though he has always been there. "Who are you ?" He asks in a calm voice that just made the older man smile. " That is both simple and complicated, but I will do my best to answer your question." He nods body tense with anticipation. He's not sure why but for the first time in a long while it feels as though he's moving forward.

The air smells sweet like flowers, mint and honey with just a tuck of rain. Draco rubs his eye as he sits up in the large bed he finds himself in. To his left large windows stand open bringing in the lovely smell that woke him. A gentle laugh fills the space like music and he turns toward the sound. To his right is a stunning woman siting on a small cushioned stool working on what looks like embroidery. Feeling his eyes on her she looks up and smiles. "So you are awake at last." He gives a small nod, trying to remember who this woman is and how he knows her. The woman at his bedside has a regal air, her long blood red hair is braided back and he could swear it ended in purple just like his. He hears he laugh again and looks in to he silver eye rimmed with long blank lashes. " You must be wondering what is going on are you not?" He looks at his hands, " May I ask a few questions then?" She smiles and give her ascent. "Who are you, first of all? Second how do you know me, and third where are we?" She gave him an amused smile, " I'm not sure you would believe me if I told you, but I will do my best." She sighs now looking sad. The look makes Draco's heart ache, what was going on, he wonders. But before he can ponder it further the woman starts to speak. " Do you believe in reincarnation?" He looks at her not sure how to answer. He hadn't really thought about it be for. " It's alright if you don't know Draco this isn't a test." She smiles and continues, " I ask because there are many with in the magical community who, by either curse or fate, are the reincarnation of someone else. You are one such person." Draco just stairs at the woman in complete disbelief. This sort of thing happens to heroes and such. Not people who spent most of there live lying to themselves. She seam to know what he was thinking as she raps him in a gentle hug. "You are more then you know. I promise this isn't some joke or mistake. I know after everything it's hard but this is real ok." She releases him from the hug, turning her back to put away her needle work so he can wipe his eyes unseen. " Now then to answer your query from before. I have been called many name but the first one was Gwenfar and you were once me and we have been many other till we became you. And no I'm the only one who will talk to you like this." She motions for Draco to get out of bed and to sit on the stool while pulling out brushes, combs, and other bits and bobs. She begins to brush his long hair as she continues. " Our collective knowledge and power is a part of you and has always been, but this doesn't change who you are now only opens more doors. So don't worry. As your body changes and you come into your full power things will become more clear. You will awaken to you former memories and your magical heritage will grant you many new powers, but there will be drawbacks as well." She begins to braid his hair in a beautiful but every complicated way. Draco takes a breathe and says as calmly as he can, "I know Gwenfar means king maker or rather granter of kingship. If that's true then would you be..." She giggles and it's a joyous sound and nods. "Yes young one once we were called Guinevere soul bound and queen to Arthur Pendragon High king of all Brittanya. But the really story is not what you think but in time you will remember." She pause as though listening to some unheard sound. "It seams to be time. Good luck my other self." As her words get softer a light fills the room and Draco Malfoy opens his eyes to his room in France, birds singing into his window. What a strange dream to have...he thought climbing out of bed. He suddenly stops dead in front of his dressing mirror and sees his hair still in its beautiful but complicated braid.

Bill just looks at the old man like he's gone mad. "So you're telling me that I was you, once upon a time." The old man just smiles sipping his tea. " Yes William that is what I'm telling you." He crosses his arms waiting for his companion to say more. When finally he ask the question that had most been on his mind. " Well then who did I used to be then?" The smile that brakes across the aged wizards face is blinding. "Well William once you where me, as I've said, and I am Merlin. And you will help The King bring a new golden age to our world." He stairs at the smug looking old man, he wants to argue but something in him knows that it's true. So he does what he always does. " What must I do?" Merlin smiles, "You just need to be patient and don't fight the changes. You have always had this power and knowledge in you. But now you will be gaining access to it till eventually it/I will just be apart of you." Bill runs his hands through his hair, "Alright I will do my best." Merlin's voice fades as he say, " I know, good luck my other self." The room fades into nothingness as he wakes to find morning has come.

Harry sits in a chair by Bills bed nothing anyone tells him makes the boy feel any better. He is convenient that he some how caused Bill's collapse and so he sits waiting to make sure he's ok. The sun has just filled the room with light when Bills sits up stretching. "Bill, are you ok. I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you." Harry looks like he's about to cry when Bill smiles and ruffles his hair. "I'm alright I promise, you didn't do anything. I'm ok." Harry rubs at his eyes smiling, "I'm so glad." Bill grins as Harry runs out to get someone. So It is Harry. These thing always seam to happen to him. He sighs getting up and dressing. By the time the Harry, Remus, and his mother arrive he's cleaned up, dresses and is back in bed.

The next day most of the occupants of number 12 are out. Bill took the day off because of his collapse yesterday so he, Remus and Sirius are eating a late breakfast when a paper plain comes flying into the room. Sirius grabs it out of the air and reads it. "When need to get up stairs." He says in a gruff, worried voice. When they arrive it's to an extremely frustrated Harry who can't seam to get his glamor to hold.

"What in Merlin's name is going on with this charm?" Sirius exclaims after another fifteen minutes of trying to get it to hold to no avail. Another half hour past before finally the three men had to admit defeat. Harry sighs, "I suppose I will just have to speak with Dumbledore as I am then." The others turn looking at the teen. "What do you mean cub?" Remus' voice held worry but Harry stood tall. " I can't let this go Moony. He lied to me, hid things from me, Merlin and Morgan Dad, it's like I was being raised for slotter." Harry's cheeks are flush, his eyes tearful. The three men hug the fifteen year old. They all realize that, to Harry, Dumbledore betrayed his trust and this boy doesn't trust easily. So in the end they all agree to take him to see the Headmaster.

The castle seams strange with out it's normal inhabitants bustling about. Their footsteps echoing loudly on the stone floor and still they met no one. As they reach their destination Harry begins thinking of the different candies the Headmaster enjoys. After five minutes of guessing the grumpy old gargoyle finally trudges out of the way at acid pops. Harry made a face, "Yuck! How can he eat those." " Never mind that pup, come on." Sirius says and moves up the winding staircase. When they reach the top muffled voices and groans of pain can be hear through the door. The older men drew their wands and pushing Harry behind them, then open the door.

The scene that met their eyes was terrible. Dumbledore sits ridged in his chair pain on his face as Snape was doing quick concentrated counter cures work on the Headmaster's extended right hand. Remus moves forward at once and ask if he can help, Sirius goes to get pain potions for when they finish, and Bill stands with a now nervous Harry. Many hours later with Remus's help the cures was stopped, but couldn't be removed. Sirius made Albus drink a pain potion and once it had fully taken affect demanded to know what was going on and what the deal with Snape was. The others agree Harry watching his professor grow more agitated by the moment. " That is enough Black the Headmaster needs his rest and you all are here with out an appointment or warning. Why should he answer any of you questions?" The tone more then anything made Harry act, Snape sounded just like Percy. Like he was dealing with a child that had done something bad. When in fact the adults has simply been angry to get found out to be manipulative wankers. Pulling on everything he had learned to control his temper and act as the Lord he is, Harry squares his should and says in a loud but calm voice. "That is quite enough. I am here to speak to the Headmaster on personal matter and we have given assistance in a dangers and delicate situation. If Professor Dumbledore would like we can stay in town and speak with him later. However I can't leave with out the assurances that we will indeed talk." Harry was blushing now and he new it but he held firm even when Snape spoke up. " And what gives you the right to dictate orders here Potter." Remus steps in as he sees his cub is trying to hold in his temper . " That's Lord Potter-Black, Professor Snape and as such Harry can demand this of the Headmaster if he wishes." Snape paled as he looks between Potter and Dumbledore. "Very well, but you all can stay in the castle no need for town, but for now I need rest," the old man says. They all excited the office with out another word.

The next day finds them in Dumbledore office once more, drinking a bit of tea before they begin. " Well Headmaster, it has come to our attention that you may have been keeping things from both Harry and us in regards to information concerning his life or rather his future." Remus says all this calmly while holding Sirius's hand. The other man sat tensely beside his partner trying not to rage at everyone in the room. Harry's watching the older men waiting to see if he will have help or not. Bill is sitting with a bemused smile on his face though no one knows why and Severus is tense with his arms crossed. Dumbledore seams at ease if not a bit stiff. "Well I will not deny that I have done so. But it was only to protect him not harm." Harry leaps to his feet staring at Dumbledore, incensed. The old man was taking his choices away again. Repeatedly letting him walk into danger with out all the information. He could have died, he could have gotten others hurt. Cedric did die because this man chose what has best on his own. Harry clenches his fist trying to rain in his temper to no avail. " You new, all this time...and.. AND DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME. I AM NOT A CHILD. THE PEOPLE AROUND ME DIE BECAUSE I'M KEPT IN THE DARK. CEDRIC MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE, HERMIONE AND RON, HELL MOST OF MY FRIENDS AND CLASS MATES MIGHT HAVE HAD A MORE NORMAL TIME AT SCHOOL. SO MANY THINGS WOULD HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT IF YOU HAD THOUGHT TO JUST OPEN YOUR MOUTH. BUT NO DUMBLEDORE ALWAYS KNOWS BEST. WELL GUESS WHAT YOU DON'T "ALWAYS KNOW WHAT'S BEST." Harry's voice echos through the room, the force of his magic making the walls shake. But even Snape could tell he was trying to hold on to it, trying not to harm anyone. They all jump when they hear his first sod as Harry finally brakes down. His fathers run to hi side Bill not far behind. The two professors look on in guilt and sorrow. This young boy weeps for the many loses in his life and all the things he can't fix. Dumbledore sighs as tears role down his aged face. He walks around his desk toward the small group, bending down he raps his arms around them all and apologizes over and over.

After things have calm down, Harry realizes he may not always like how The Headmaster does things but in a very real way he is family. For him Dumbledore is the crazy grandfather who just love's pulling you into trouble, but always has a reason for it. If he's being honest Harry is grateful to have so many people care about him. Pulling out of the hug and sitting once more Dumbledore explains about the Voldemort prophecy.

Albus couldn't believe how much young Harry has grown, but he is glad. He's not sure he would have ever been ready to tell the boy of the hardship that awaits him. Now they are all sitting and talking about it and Albus feels more at peace with it all. He still hasn't told him some things but he really doesn't want to add more burdens to already heavily laden shoulders. Besides Sevres has already promised to take on this particular problem. He sighs as they all talk till finally Remus ask,"So Professor Dumbledore why do you think it has to be Harry that ends him?" The boy has always been sharp. He thinks with a small chuckle."I believe that Voldemort left a piece of himself behind the night he try to kill young Lord Potter, and that it subsequently latched on to the nearest living thing. That being Harry of course. In doing so gave our young man a connection that would have corrupted many but has not claimed him. I think a small piece of his soul is bound to your scare Harry. I haven't figured out away to safely remove it nor have I come up with a way to destroy Voldemort with out it. I'm so sorry dear boy, I feel as though I have failed you in this regard." The tears role slowly down his face as all the guilt and regrets came back. Not just about Harry but so many times when he thought his choice was the best he could make. Though now looking back on it all there would be so many things he would do differently if he could. Now the boy he had come to care for like his own, looking at him willing to forgive if he only opens up. The old man sighs, And yet there are still things I must keep from him. I hope he can forgive me in the end. Whipping his eyes he looks at them all and smiles.

Harry sat for what felt like hours listening to his dad and his professor argue like children, while his Father, Headmaster, and surrogate older brother try and calm things down. The problem was half the time they would try drawing the other three into the fight. Harry didn't have to worry about being pulled into the fight mostly because it had a lot to do with him. That bit kind of tweaked Harry the wrong way. He's sitting right here and they are talking about him like he wasn't there or didn't understand them, like his aunt and uncle used to do. Harry shook himself, Sirius is trying to help and who knows things might change for the better or get a lot worse. Remus seam to know what he was thinks and stood up. " Now really you two this is getting...." He begins but is cut off by Sirius growling, "How do we even know his condition isn't your fault Snivele. We have know idea..." "How dare you," shrieks Professor Snape," I refuse to sit hear and be accused of dark magic when your own godson looks like that!" He says coldly pointing at Harry. This is the moment Dumbledore chooses to shift the conversation. "That is a fair point my boy. You do look rather different, though still like you. Would you mind in lighting this old man as to your situation. I may even be able to help." The teen nods, anything to stop them fighting. So he explains about the blood adoption and how that's seams to have trigger a creature inheritance of some kind but they don't know which one. In his explanation of things he leaves out that stuff at the bank and second prophecy. He's not really feeling up to sharing all of it right now. Then turns to the Headmaster," So what happened to your hand and all that." Dumbledore laughs and it's a joys sound. " You, my boy, will give this world a turn. Very well then." He pulls out his wand and gives it a small wave, a small box comes to his summons and lands in his good hand. Everyone watches as he opens it up and shows then a chunky old fashioned ring with a cracked black stone in it. On the stone was a strange symbol carved into it's surface. Harry had seen it some where before but couldn't remember where. The boy is pulled from his thoughts when Dumbledore speaks. "This ring was one of the other horcruxes that Voldemort made. It once held a cures but no longer. Now it's just a ring. We can add it to the list of destroyed and work on finding the rest." Dumbledore hands the box to Harry with a smile, " I think you will find this ring belongs to your family Harry or rather it belongs to a small branch of the family you are head of. There for I believe it should go to you." The young man takes it with and odd look on his face but shakes his head and thanks the Headmaster. " Now then my dear boy you are wondering about you blood inheritance, yes. Well if you wish the Bank can perform a blood analysis incantation to tell you the creature and many other impotent things. But if you wish we can also do it here." Harry looks at his dads hungry to know more about what was going on but not sure how much he wants to share. But depending on the creature he may have to tell the Dumbledore anyway so he isn't sure what to do. "Either way is fine but it will get filed with the bank ministry and school regardless. "Remiss says with a sigh." Though not all the information you can learn will be sent to all of these places normally, you are the head of two families so they want to be careful." Harry's mouth runs dry and he suddenly can't speak. If I find out now then the ministry will find out because the information in my records will change. But it will change on my birthday anyways so is it better to be informed or wait it out. He shakes his head, "Alright let do this." Nodding Dumbledore looks to Snape, "If you will give me a hand with this Severus?" Padfoot jumped in, "Why him? Why not me or Remus?" The Headmaster sighs rubbing his temples. "Because, Sirius, I know Severus has preformed this before and knows what it intails. Can you say the same." Sighing Sirius steps back and let's the potions master get to work.

The parchment lay on the desk a slight purple shimmer to it . To it's right was a wicked long pin that seems to be made of copper and bone with a black pearl set into the end. The Headmaster directs Harry to pick it up and stab the tip of his ring finger. Harry does as instructed the drops of blood falling on parchment. The parchment shein glitters from purple to green as the blood soaks into the page replaced by thin red letters. The blank sheet fills slowly with every eye on it no one even daring to breathe. At last the parchment stilled and they all move to read it.

Lord Hadrian James Potter-Black Son to Lord James and Lady Lilly Potter Blood adopted son of Lord Sirius Black and Master Remus Lupin Heir to the House of Potter Heir to the House of Peverell Heir to the House of Pendragon Heir/Head, by blood adoption, of the House of Black 4th Prince by blood of the Unseelie Court Blood heir to the Pendragon Throne by family and soul Soul Bonded to the Heir of the Cornwall line Blood alliances from the ancient and Noble wizarding families of Britannia, ancient and noble families of the seelie and unseelie courts of Britannia, and finally the ancient and noble families of the knights of the round table. By right of fealty those ancient houses without heirs or who have broken their oaths, all properties and holdings immediately fall back to Then Pendragon heir by the ancient Blood oaths signed.

Everyone one in the room sat in stunned silence. For Harry's part he looks like he's going to scream. Fate just hates me. He thinks,banging his head on the desk repeatedly. What ever power out there that thought fucking with my life was a good idea... Well they can jog off, blood wankers. Harry kept his head down he knew there must be talking going on around him but in that moment he didn't care. Half the stuff on the stupid parchment made no since and the rest just hurt his head. Well my other self if you hadn't hit our head on the desk so many times it wouldn't hurt now. Harry's head shot up from the desk looking around. You won't find me out there, the voice says calmly. The others are now looking at him with confusion and concern. Now young one just calm down, the older male voice spoke again. You, your..., Harry stumbles over his thoughts trying not to panic. Yes young Hadrian, I'm Arthur your former self. Then the poor over stressed teen then drops into a dead faint.

Remus sat next to Harry in the hospital wing Sirius next to him. Their boy had passed out hours ago but Poppy says he'll be fine. Sirius himself only fell asleep an hour ago, but Remus just couldn't manage it. Sirius was so worried and none of them knew what to do about that stupid paper. So Bill, with Dumbledore's promission went to the library to find everything he could and bring it up. For Snape's part he told the Headmaster he may have some books that could help and left to retrieve them. Though he's not come back, as far as Remus knew. Poppy comes in to check on Harry and helps move Sirius to an empty bed telling the former professor to get some sleep.

The next morning Harry still hasn't woken up, leaving the adults to worry. "We need to have as much information for him as we can get. You know what he's like. He'll want to know everything he can." Snape makes an exasperated huffing noise and Sirius glares," What? Do you have something you want to add?" Snape just glairs at him, " At this point I'm not even sure we are talking about the same boy. Potter has always been a lazy no account in my classes and..." Remus cut him off with a growl,"That is because you bully him and any student not in your house Snape and don't even try to denying it. I've seen you at it." Moony stairs daggers at Snape but Bill slams a book on the table."That is quite enough out of all of you." He says looking at Sirius who was about to jump into the fight. "Harry needs us to be our best and you lot are acting like children. So either you clear the air right now or get out because I've work to do." He then takes his seat and begins writing again. The other look down sheepishly as the Headmaster walks in. "I see that Mr. Weasley's famous temper has shown its self." Three of the men look up at the chuckling Headmaster as he makes his way to the table.

Harry felt warm sunlight on his face. The wind sends a cool breeze across his skin as he begins to stir. He sits up slowly the smell of fresh cut grass and summer heat filling his nose. "How are you feeling?" A familiar voice says to his right. Blinking he looks around for the speaker. He realizes three things very quickly, one he some how got out side, two these aren't the school grounds, and three there is a man sitting next to him. Harry immediately leaps into action moving back and reaching for his wand. Then to his horror he realizes it's not there. "What have you done with my wand ?" He shouts at the man still sitting on the ground. "And where am I ?" The man just chuckles bringing a glare to Harry's face. But now that he's looking at the man he has to admit he looks good. Honey blond hair hanging in loose curls down his back, broad shoulders and well built from what he could tell. Though the clothes were a bit old fashioned, his tunic hung loosely around him but the pants and boots, that seam to be made of dragon hide, are well fitted hugging his hips and legs well. Harry shook him self, Know is not the time, he thought. The man just smiles, " I'm not going to hurt you Hadrian please sit, we need to talk."

Mean while Bill has finally gotten the others to behave with the help of Dumbledore. At this point they have a good number of books for Harry to ready, but he's not sure what will really be useful. He knows that Harry will need the magical law and history books. No one can really get a good understanding about it from Bins. He has to read the books on the Fey no question there. What Bill is dreading bringing up to the others are the record they will have to get from the Ministry. He knows Fudge will do all he can to not only make it hard but as damning and public as he can. They all know Harry will hate that. Everything does seams to happen to him. Bills sighs rubbing his eyes. At least know he could put his capacity for obscure knowledge to use. Just as he was about to settle in to take notes a dove patronus come swooping in. " Harry is awake !" It cries before vanishing they all hurry back to the hospital wing, even Snape.

Harry sat up feeling dazed, had that really just happened? Well he does feel a lot better then he has in a long while. Even with all the craziness his mind is calm and the creeping doubts are quiet. For the first time in his live everything feels like it's going to really be okay. Then the door swings open with a bang as his Dads and Proffers come rushing in. Madam Pomphrey comes bustling out of her office in the same a moment to poke and prod her patient. The normalcy of it all make Harry Laugh out loud and the sound is bright and warm. His parents hug him, Dumbledore smiles, Snape huffs, and for a moment everything seams okay.

Severus Snape sits in his office strumming his fingers on his desk. It wasn't possible was it. Had the boy been faking his lack of understanding, was his attitude towards the Potions Master part of a mask. He shook his head. If someone had asked me even a week ago he would have said no, that the boy was just like his father. All arrogance and bluster. But the boy he had glimpsed, when he was unaware of him, was all together different . Running his hands through his hair he makes his choice. He gets to his feet and makes his way to the hospital wing. Stealing his resolve Severus opens the door quietly the sound of voice reaching his ears. " Do you understand This part Harry?" The Professor stops listening. " No I get that bit Bill but what I'm more concerned about is this. Some of these ingredients we use all the time in class." He hears a heavey sigh, "There is know way Snape will change the recipe just for me." Severus hears movement then the oldest Weasley boy speaks. "I'm sure The headmaster..." "No!" The potter boy brakes in, " I don't need him fighting battles for me. I'm sure I can find the right substitutions for them and even if i don't Snape will be happier if I fail. And anyway as long as I score well on my OWLS it's fine." Another sigh and more movement tells him someone is about to come around the corner. He doesn't hear the last of what is said but runs in to the Weasley boy out side the hospital wing. They nod as he walks inside and Bill leaves.

Harry sits on the hospital bed surrounded by books notes and crumpled bits of paper. His hair looks like he's run his hand through it many times and he has a quill behind his ear. The boy has ink stains on his fingers, muttering something about having to change how many times to stir his cauldron counter clockwise. The old Potions Master was so forcefully reminded of Lilly in that moment he doesn't know if he should laugh or cry. But he must have made some kind of noise as the boy looks up. The look of shock on his face says more then anything he had not exacted to see Snape. Severus sighs, " Mr. Potter , would you mind closing your mouth. We have things to discuss."

The two sit in a tense silence as the house elf sets up tea and bows out of the room. Taking his cup Severus glances at the boy on the hospital bed next to him. Then much to the older man's surprise he speaks first. " What is it that you wanted to talk about Professor?" Snape puts his cup down, with out taking a sip. "To be frank Mr. Potter I believe you and I need to clear the air and... and hopefully start over. I know that you have been hiding your true nature as I have, but I don't think that would be in your best interests. I also believe that if even half of what was on that parchment was true then you will need all the help you can get." Harry nods listening to every world. " With the Headmaster's health as it is we can not afford to keep hating each other. So I want to get to know who you are and not who your father was. That beginning said I will first like to apologies for my behavior." The teen looks at him in disbelief but nods. " The I'm sorry too, and if we are going to do this then can we use memories. Harder to lye that way." The Professor look taken aback at first but then gives him a cunning smile. " Very well Mr. Potter as you wish." After asking the Headmaster to use the pensive the two spend hours watching and talking about the things they see. Though neither of them show the other everything they do share enough. " Though we can't change our behavior to mush in public...." Harry holds up his hand, " I understand Professor." And with that Harry goes back to the hospital wing leave Snape smiling quietly behind him.

Bill sits in the only quiet room left in the house as teenagers run around trying to find all their things for school. He chuckles a bit taking a sip of tea.A few days ago if you had told him things would feel this normal again he wouldn't have believed you. Now it is the last day before the young ones all depart for school and he can't help feel both wistful and nervous. The reason for the nerves was obvious, there had been a fight. With all the chaos going on Harry hadn't really kept Ron, Hermione or anyone, but those who had been with him, in the loop. Now with glamour refusing to work, Harry had to tell them. Needless to say it wasn't fun and Bill knew for a fact he left stuff out. Though personally he thought Harry had been right to do so. Ron would get jealous, Mione would worry about things they couldn't change and his mother was already haveing kittens about what he had sad. But after a couple of days it all got sorted and every one calmed down.

Harry seams at easy about it all at last though Bill, more then most, knows how good he is at hiding what is going on in his head. Regardless his sibling and Hermione seam determand to help. He can only hope that all the work Harry is putting in the help of his friends will get him through the year with out to much trouble. But this is Harry and trouble always seam to find him. That is one of the big reasons Bill told him they need to find a Lawyer for him. Harry had agreed so he plans to ask at the Bank if they have any on retainer for clients. If not there are a few wizarding law firms in Britain they can look at. Since Harry is an adult in the eyes of the law they are able to get around a lot of trouble they would have had other wise. He is hopeful they will find someone good enough to help deal with Fudge. Who is as predicted is making things difficult. Right know he is trying to pressure the Profit into righting stories about Lord Potter-Black's mixed blood. So far the bank's reminder to the paper about how much of it Harry owns has kept them at bay. Though it will only work for so long. As soon as Witch Weekly catches wind of it or one of the other rags, the Profit will be able to print what they have. If we have a Lawyer step in to check it before it goes to print we can at least tell more of the truth. He sighs, the records still have to be gotten from the Ministry and the Bank for Harry to go through and half a dozen other things. He's only fifteen, but there is much harder things waiting for him in the future. Bill gets up and heads down stairs to join everyone for dinner on lats time before the school year begins.

The smell of warm grass and rain fill his nose as he starts to stir. Then the sound of wind through trees and a waterfall sing through the air as sunlight warms his face. Sitting up slowly with a long stretch and a yawn Hadrian finds himself in a clearing deep in the forest. The waterfall and small lake are as blue as the sky and the summer sun feel great on his face. He looks around feeling relaxed for the first time in a long while when he hears foot steps drawing nearer. Suddenly he feels a pair of hands over his eyes and he smiles. "I thought you might not becoming ," he says reaching up to pull the new comer around and into his arms. " I wouldn't miss seeing you." His companion say in a rich alto voice. The two begin laughing together as they sit cuddle on the grass. Hadrian tries to hold on to the features of his companion but they slip away like a fog. "Are you going to tell me who you are this time?" He feels them smile on the skin of his neck. "Only if you are going to tell me the same." Hadrian sighs, they had figured out weeks ago that what ever magic that is at play here wouldn't let they reveal who they are. At least id won't right now. "I can think of other things we can do to pass the time." His companion says with a purr. Hadrian flips them stair at the few features the magic has unveiled. The person below him has pale golden hair bleeding into a rich sunset array of colors. Their eyes are like pools of silver and moon light with long lashes like black lace. He feels sure he would drown in them if he looks to long. Then he leans in and captures the ever shifting lips in a siring kiss. The kiss deepens as his partner mouth opens to him. When they at last come up for air they are both laughing breathlessly. " I'm heading back to school in the morning. What about you?" The other nods, "Yes, I will be going back as well. Who knows we might even go to the same one." Hadrian nods smiling at the thought. "It would be nice to finally see you in the waking world." He hugs them tightly feeling there arms rap around him. "It's time my dear." He shakes his head kissing them again. "I don't want to leave you!" He sighs sadly, " We'll see each other soon but for now fair well." Harry sits up in bed shaking tears threatening to spill from his eyes as weeks of dreams come back to him. Weeks of getting to know the wonderful person he had to leave behind again. Something deep inside him aches with loneliness as he climes out of bed heading to the wash room. The phoenix soul mark moves over his heart trying to comfort him. But he has no time, before long the rest of the house it moving and he makes his way down stairs.

The drive to the station is lively with every one in the back of Remus's station wagon. Bill sat if front while Remus drives and the twins, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and himself were sitting in the expanded back seat. The traffic moves along at a descent pace but it takes almost fifteen minutes to find a parking spot. Now, with trolleys loaded the group heads in to Kings Cross with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley waiting for them. Making their way through the crowds Harry could swear he felt someone watching him, shrugging it off he goes through the barrier with the others.

Harry steps out onto the platform and is greeted by the flash of cameras. The nose of the is overwhelming as he realizes that there are reporters everywhere. Once they spot Harry however it's like a feeding frenzy. Questions are shouted at him left and right as they try making their way across to the train. Lupin pulls Harry behind him as one report tries to grab the young lord. "GRRRRRRRR, don't touch my son." Moony's eyes going amber for a moment as he grawls at the man. "This isn't working Dad," Bill says to Mr. Weasley. "We need to call the Aurors." Arthur nods sending off a patronus, moving himself to shield Harry and the others. As the adults move Harry and his friends towards the train he is able to pick out some of what the reporters are shouting. "Can you tell us about your new look Lord Potter?" "Is it true you're the Lord to more then one House?" "Is it true you're claiming the return of he who must not be named?" " What about the reports that you are unstable?" At this last query a loud boom thunders through the platform. Kingsley Shakelbolt a well dress dark skinned wizard looks around ordering the group of six Aurors with him to round up the press. Next to him stands a tan woman with chocolate brown hair and fitted black business robes. Her sharp light brown eyes watching the crowd till the fall on him. Whispering something to Kingsley she walks over to their group. "Hello Young Lord and greetings from Mythrin and Wilks Magical Law firm. The Bank has informed us that you wish to retain our services as your family has done for generation. I am Ms. Tamrin, and am here as your lawyer, if you like." Harry looks at Remus who nods. Harry turns back to her, "Thank you for coming is there anything you can do here?" He gestures towards the press and the chaos they're causing. She gives a wicked grin, "Oh yes Lord Potter there most certainly is."

As Harry and the others board the train Auror Shakelbolt and Ms. Tamrin deal with the press. He has never been so glad for the adults in his life. They all hug their families goodbye and watch as other students clime on to the train and for a moment Harry swears he smells warm grass and rain.

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