#yes i put glitter on the chaos emerald

[goblinfables]

suddenly got wrangled into drawing some old childhood favorites

[astranva]

Dad!Harry having all daughters and all of them are either doing his hair or putting makeup on him while asking him silly questions about himself 😙

Title: Beautiful Chaos

Word Count: 1.9k

Category: dad!harry fluff

Warnings: Not proofread but none other than that.

That was lovely to write, too, my heart is about to buRST although I couldn’t find a suitable photo for the Instagram post I add at the end oops

There were a lot of things that your husband, Harry, enjoyed. Like, you spooning him after a long day at work, like smelling your coconut scent through the house, and like the fact that he was a father of 3 healthy girls.

Perla, Emerald, and Ruby were 3 girls whom Harry could go to hell and back for, not to mention you, but it had always been like that since the moment he met you.

Perla, being 7 years old, frequently took pride in her “big sister” title, wearing it like a sash around her and especially at her school and around her friends. Out of her sisters, she was the most protective of her family and it was something that had never failed to make you and Harry melt.

Harry even often found himself going on his phone, watching a video he had discreetly recorded when she was only 2. She was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, her eyes following your every move as you made her a sandwich with your baby bump showing, in your 9th month.

“careful, mummy.”

“Mummy, careful!”

“Thank you, mummy. Thank you, little baby.”

She had said during the video, adding a kiss to your bump after her last sentence.

Then Emerald came into the world, and Harry sometimes found himself wondering if his heart had doubled its size to fit all the love he had for his family.

Being 5, Emerald – or Emma as you all frequently called her – was quiet. She was a collected, flexible child who enjoyed art. Harry’s music? She would be listening carefully to it, saying comments that not all 5-year-olds would say;

“I like the piano here.”

“Uncle Mitch did a great job here!”

“Daddy, the bass is so low.”

And it only made sense that yours and Harry’s phones were full of pictures of her with her toy guitar around her shoulders, strumming as she cutely sang Harry’s songs or even some Fleetwood Mac into her green microphone.

And then came your youngest, being 3 – Ruby.

Ruby was a funny and hyperactive child. No hairstyle could sit still for her and more often than not, she sat with messy and chaotic brown hair, clothes a little disheveled. She was definitely more of a risk-taker than her sisters.

You remember only months ago at the beginning of the year, before the pandemic outbreak, when you and Harry were visiting a friend of yours from work and they had a big dog, a Great Dane, Perla and Emerald hiding behind you and Harry as they saw the dog but Ruby thrashed in Harry’s arms, demanding he put her down so she can “play with the puppy.”

And the one time you were at Anne’s, Ruby had curiously poked Dusty’s stomach, which the cat didn’t like to defend itself, it scratched 2-year-old Ruby’s hand.

Everyone stared in shock, waiting for Ruby to break down and cry but were surprised when she stared at her hand with a frown before looking at Dusty who walked off,

“Sorry!” She had only shouted at the cat before standing and grabbing a grape to eat.

With the pandemic outbreak, your family of 5 was quarantined in your London home. Refusing to leave the house unless it was absolutely necessary, you had guided your daughters to understanding how important it was to wear a face mask while outside because it was their duty towards all people, you and Harry included.

But with the pandemic, you and Harry were busy at creating ways that would keep the kids busy as well. From movie nights to activities, you both had tried to keep the kids entertained as well as aware of what was going on as best as you could.

It was one day when everything was just slow-paced, quiet, and chill. Harry had shaved his beard and left a mustache, one that your daughters were very amused by and had been all week.

You sat with your laptop on your lap, earphones connected as you watched The Good Place, but keeping the sound low enough for you to hear what your kids were conversing about.

Harry sat beside you, reading a book he had picked up a couple of days ago, his hand behind your back, fingers gently and mindlessly caressing your back, stroking it up and down in a comforting and soothing manner.

Perla and Ruby were sat together, coloring the most recent sketched you had printed them, while Emerald was sat on the floor against your legs, trying to make you and Harry a beaded bracelet from the toy set Harry had gotten her earlier.

“Mummy, does this look nice?” She asked, turning to look at you as she raised a pink-beaded thread string.

You lowered your laptop screen, looking at her. “It looks very nice, baby. Do you want me to tie it?”

“Yes, please.” She stood, handing you the string and watching you in awe as you did as if you were doing pure magic. You tied it in the way you had learned years ago, when friendship bracelets were a thing, making sure that it can get tighter or looser, however the wearer wanted.

“There you go.”

“Thank you, Mummy.” She grinned as she took it before moving to Harry, attempting to climb him which earned her a giggle from him as he helped her up, putting his book aside before mentally cursing himself because he didn’t know where he stopped.

“Look! I made you this!” Emerald grinned as she handed Harry the bracelet, watching excitedly and waiting for his reaction.

Harry gasped dramatically, ��Woooow!” He looked at the bracelet lovingly, feeling like his heart was about to burst as he put it on, vowing to never take it off to himself. “I love it, Em. Thank you so much, baby.”

Emerald grinned bashfully, raising her shoulders closer to her cheeks as she did, Harry grabbing her to press a kiss against her hairline.

You watched with pure love, show long forgotten as you paused and gave your full attention to the scene.

Noticing what was going on, your oldest and youngest paused their coloring to approach you and look at their dad’s new jewelry.

“Good job, Em. Can you make me one?” Your oldest, Perla, asked excitedly as she eyed the bracelet before grinning at her shorter sister, who excitedly nodded at her.

“Me, too!” Ruby chimed, “But blue!”

“First, Mummy,” Emerald pointed at you, “Then Per,” she pointed at her older sister, “Then Rube.”

“Starting a business, aren’t you?” Harry joked, bringing her close to his chest as he playfully gnawed on her cheek, smiling as she squealed out in laughter.

As if the idea had been in her mind for a while, Perla suddenly blurted out a question:

“Daddy, can I put makeup on you?”

You grinned, looking at Harry and waiting for his reply.

He looked at you quickly before moving back to Perla, “I don’t see why not. Go on, get the stuff you need.”

“Ruby, you think we can paint daddy’s nails?” You asked your youngest with an excited grin, hearing your husband laugh.

Ruby nodded with a squeal, holding your hand as you stood up before Perla ran in front of you, you and Ruby following her as you ran towards yours and Harry’s room to get the stuff needed.

“Blue!” Ruby pointed at the blue nail polish bottle while Perla stood with your makeup bag, “And pink.”

“Yellow, too,” Perla added.

“How about we take the whole thing.” You chuckled as you gathered the box in your hands, walking behind your squealing, excited daughters.

At the sight of you, Emerald lit up, “I’ll do daddy’s hair!”

“You girls are giving Daddy a whole makeover, huh?” Harry laughed lovingly, welcoming all the attention.

You sat on Harry’s right, Ruby on his left with the blue nail polish bottle in her hand as she sat on her stomach with Harry’s hand waiting for her. Perla sat on Harry’s lap while Emerald climbed and seated herself on Harry’s shoulders, scrunchie around her wrist as she played with Harry’s hair.

Harry would have been lying if he said he didn’t enjoy how everything was right there and then. His wife was painting his nails in pink, pastel yellow, and baby blue while his 3-year-old was having her go with his other hand, getting polish on his cuticles but trying nonetheless. His oldest daughter brushing his cheeks with her mom’s blush brush, while his 5-year-old was gently pulling on his hair.

“Okay, done,” Perla closed the blush before moving to choose a lipstick, ending up with your red Mac one and opening it, “Daddy, do like that.” She instructed, puckering her lips. So Harry did, looking up as he did and trying to stifle his giggles as she put on lipstick on his puckered lips, “Okay, no more.” So he set his lips back, Perla continuing on applying the vibrant red color.

You hunched a little forward, a smile making its way to your lips, “Looking beautiful, baby.”

He hummed, his chest shaking with laughter as he felt the lipstick above his upper lip before Perla pulled back and looked back in the bag to apply anything more. He looked at you as you painted the last nail in pink, keeping only his middle finger’s nail in pastel yellow while his thumb and index were in baby blue, his ring and pinky’s being in pink. “Feeling so, too.” He said as he closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows, letting out a sigh of contentment for emphasis, overly dramatic, making you laugh.

It was 20 minutes later when his girls were done with their work and pushed him towards him and his wife’s bedroom, where they had a full-body length mirror.

He looked absolutely chaotic, and he loved everything about it. While his hair stuck in all directions, some lockets were collected by Emerald’s peach-colored scrunchie, one hand was nicely painted – which was painted by his wife – while the other was an absolute mess of blue but you can spot the attempt and it was nothing a nail polish remover couldn’t fix, his eyelids having some glitter on them, red lipstick nicely put except for a smudge right above his upper lip, cheeks too pink.

“What do you think?” Perla asked excitedly.

“Wow!” Harry breathed out, moving closer to the mirror, “I look glamorous!” He put his hands up in a peace sign, puckering his lips and popping up a leg as he posed, making his family laugh.

“Wait, let’s take a picture.” You grinned, raising your phone up as everyone got into a spot; Emerald had her arm thrown on Ruby’s shoulders as she smiled, Ruby sticking her tongue out, Perla choosing to sit down in front of her sisters, crossing her legs as she grinned with her eyes closed. You stood behind the hugging sisters, against Harry’s chest. Harry wrapped one arm around your shoulders from the back, the other around your waist as he smiled into the mirror, his head leaning down to press his cheek against yours. You held your phone with one hand, the other reaching up to hold on to Harry’s arm around you as you grinned before taking the picture.

“Let’s frame that.” Harry whispered to you in bliss, looking at the photo from behind you before moving to wrap both arms around your waist, “Thank you, love. For making me the happiest man alive.”

[parkerlyn]

ROs reactions to the MC going up to them and bowing, hand outstretched, saying "May I have this dance?"

💃🏻🕺🏽🎵🎶 yeeeessss I am soft for dancing!! (sorry this took forEVER it uhhh spiraled into 2k words haha. ROs names are colored for separated drabbles!)

Thank you for the asks! ❤️❤️

*At [insert event here] that involves dancing*

The Healer:

Their face has been lit by the swirling orbits of the dancers in front of the two of you, a slack-jawed awe frozen on their face as they watch the footwork of the closest couple. 

Which is why when you turn and ask them to dance, their expression throws you off kilter. Instead of the enthusiasm you were expecting, a chill falls over the air between you as their face morphs into...fear?

"Oh, uh-" The Healer seems to have dropped their confidence on the ground, by the way their eyes search it. "I'm alright really, I'd rather be a bystander."

"Really?” Your incredulous response brings back the light in their face for just a moment. “You?" 

"I'm..." They search the ceiling and the draped pillars now before muttering, "Imnotverygoodatdancingyoushouldreallydancewithsomeoneelse."

You blink. "Sorry, want to say that again?"

A sigh passes through their lips while they pull idly at their ear. "I'm...a little clumsy at these sorts of dances. Can never get all the steps in the right order."

Your face breaks into a soft sympathy and they can't help theirs relaxing in response. Still, you hold your hand out with resolution.

"We don't have to do the fancy steps, it's enough just to dance with you."

Reflections of you are clearer in their gold irises as their eyes widen, the smile spreading in turn. Finally, they take your hand.

"You do remember I literally crashed into you the first time we met, right?" At your expectant stare, they laugh. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

With that settled you lead them forward, feeling just the slightest bit of nervous resistance that melts away when you give a quick squeeze. You guide them to the corner of the dance floor away from focus, before turning and tentatively placing a hand on the luscious sash and decorated fabric draping over their shoulder, the other resting in their elevated hand. 

The Healer keeps their gaze locked to yours, uncertain what to do next and finding anchor in your eyes. Deliberately, steadily, you begin to rock to the right, then to the left, swaying your bodies in a gentle rhythm. Their eyes dart once with self-consciousness at the couples around you, before the movement hooks their focus back. Face transitioning into something more at ease, you feel them start to move with you instead of being moved by you.

The smile that illuminates their face practically jumps to yours, and they bring the hand they’re holding to press against their chest. Rumbling bliss echoes against your skin, their heart leaping to meet your palm at each beat.

“See?” you whisper. “You can dance just fine.”

They press their forehead against yours, eyes barely open. 

“Only because it’s with you.”

Oisein:

“Well, hello there.”

The sultry voice comes from your left as Oisein slides into your space. Though they’re wearing their mortalis glamour, the amount of embroidery on their clothes and the delicate jewelry adorning their ears, neck, and arms still gives them an ethereal sheevra-likeness that hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“What’s a gorgeous thing like you doing all alone?” Their eyes narrow, lip turning with a clearly mischievous intent. “Bored by all these stuffy mortalis?”

“Oisein!”

Grinning with no remorse, their lavender eyes cast back to the dancing crowd, the glints of light off their accessories casting shifting reflections on the columns around you.

“We do throw better parties though, you have to admit,” they murmur.

“Maybe... Though I’m not sure the last Equinox counts as a party so much as a...rampage? A riot?”

“What’s a party without a little chaos?”

The two of you laugh quietly enough to seem polite to those around you, almost in mockery of the mortalis niceties. 

As the laughter ebbs away, you just catch the slight shift of weight from one of their legs to another as Oisein fumbles with bracelets along their wrists. It’s clear what their real reason is for shadowing you recently, and you suppose you’ve played hard-to-get long enough.

With a flourish worthy of Oisein’s dramatics, you give a bow as the instruments and Soundweavers begin the next song. 

“May I have this dance?”

You're not sure what happens first, you finishing the question or Oisein grabbing you by both hands and hastily backing up onto the dance floor.

"Finally! I thought you'd never ask!"

"What, you couldn't ask me either?" You tease while they hold one of your hands up and lift your other arm on top of theirs, their palm gently pressing against your back between your shoulders.

"When have I ever made anything easy?"

The smirk is there for an instant before it thaws into something warm and affectionate, and the two of you begin to revolve around each other across the smooth floor. 

Colors swirl like a kaleidoscope as you keep your eyes fixed on them. The lavender, the golden blond, the emeralds and sapphires glittering while resting on their tanned and freckled neck. Compared to the pairs around you Oisein flows as naturally a part of the music as the notes themselves, your movements merging into a harmony between your bodies. 

Your view changes as Oisein dips you backward, your waist nestled and secured in the crook of their arm before they roll your torso back up against them. A low hum of delighted magic reverberates from their chest through yours when you’re fully upright again, and you can just hear them begin to sing with the melody enveloping you. 

Leaning into Oisein as far as you can without disrupting your dance, you catch the small hitch in breath before they reach a warm, steady hand to cradle your neck, saccharine voice continuing a private concert for your ears alone.

The Sage:

Even from a distance, you can see the Sage’s strained smile. To the dignitaries and figureheads around them, it must seem polite, polished, immaculate. But you recognize the tired creases at their eyes and the tightness of their hands, the anxious habit as their fingers brush the braids against their back.

They turn to face someone else, the soft yellow ribbon that usually holds their hair replaced by a brilliant golden clasp that glints against your eyes. It reflects once more as they give a seasoned nod and a bow of acknowledgement, before excusing themselves. 

You smile as you watch them search the crowd for respite, tense politeness loosening into adoring relief when their eyes catch yours. The smile tugs further at your mouth and you give a wave.

“I’m so sorry,” they exhale out as they come to your side. “I thought the conversation with the Ambassador would be much shorter, but I really should’ve foreseen the...” They search around you to make sure no one can overhear them. “-bragging and oversharing that he’s wont to do.”

“Were they at least fun stories, though?”

“Depends on your definition,” they whisper back, trying to control the smirk threatening to spread. “But I know for sure the ‘legendary beast’ he described fishing for off the coast of Han is a creature he stole from his daughter’s imagination.”

“Plagiarising children? Can the mortalis sink any lower?”

“You-!” The Sage tries to wave your words away, turning to make sure no one heard you but beaming with a conspiratorial excitement. You laugh at the reaction, and they cover their mouth to stop from releasing a laugh to match.

“Well,” you continue. “Do you think the Gold Sage might have a chance for a break with a commoner like me?”

With your question, they finally let the laugh loose and bring the base of their palm against the bottom of their eyes, the usual golden swoops under them painted further out and twisting into delicate, intricate patterns over their warm skin.

“I’d hardly consider you ‘common’,” they chide, eyes half-lidded. “But what did you have in mind?”

You hear the music crescendo, before putting on your best impression of a stuffy official, with an equally stiff bow and rigid arm outstretched.

“My dear Sage,” you begin with voice pitched in imitation. They snort at the caricature. “Would you give me the honor of a dance?”

“There's nothing else I’d rather do," they say with a more genuine response, reversing your hand to place a kiss on your fingers before they let you lead them to the dance floor.

Their fingers spread against your palm when you come to an open space, and they frame your body with theirs. A lilting waltz begins and their steps start to move like clockwork, precise and smooth, pulling you into the tides of golden fabric rippling at their waist.

Vivid, lively hazel watches your face, searching over your features with admiration while your feet glide beneath you. Any view of the other mortalis or the ballroom or the band blurs into the background, your eyes caught and tangled in the glow of their unbridled joy.

“...Think we could turn this into more than just a break?” they ask gently as you continue to revolve.

“I’d be happy to help you avoid the Ambassador for as long as possible, yes.”

“Perfect.”

The Magesmith:

You're not sure what you were expecting. Maybe not as much bluntness when you asked them to dance? But still, the crossed arms and resounding "No," stings a bit more than anticipated.

They shift awkwardly at your hurt expression as you draw your hand back, distracting themself by pulling at the tight, velvety dressclothes the Sage shoved in their face just hours before.

"It's not you," they continue softly, almost apologetically. "Just not a huge fan of crowds...and dancing."

“Right, of course," you trail off. You understand, really, but the rejection still burns in your core and in your cheeks.

Neither of you are fully sure where the conversation is supposed to go from here, and small talk has never been the Magesmith's strong suit. When you look up again though, you catch them click their tongue while exploring the area with their eyes.

"Come with me for a second." And now it's their hand waiting for yours.

Skeptical, you still take it, and there's a sweet tenderness as they close their heated fingers around yours and weave the two of you through the crowds to the outer rims of the party. Just beyond the last line of revelers, you see a curtain barely separated to show the balcony hiding behind it, hardly visible past the reflection of the gaudy scene you’re currently caught in.

The Magesmith releases your hand and presses their face against the glass with no regard for your surroundings, before nodding and turning to you.

"Here," they state, as if that's all the explanation they need to give. They press through the door anyway, beckoning you to follow.

Slight humidity hangs in the air outside, both warmth and chill prickling over your skin. In some wild turn of luck, the balcony is empty save for the two of you, and the Magesmith holds out their brass arm as the melody from inside trickles outward in muted cadences.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," you finally say into the silence.

"No, I-" They clench their fingers before relaxing them again. Brown eyes melt into their gentle admission.

"I want to," they breathe out. "Of course I want to."

They continue to stare into you until all you can do is believe them, and your hand moves without thought. When you do connect, a small noise escapes you at how confidently they pull you forward, and how smoothly their arm flows around you. There's a practiced step to the side as they move you to their hip, before unfurling you out and around, and closing back in so you’re facing them.

They're...good at dancing.

Your feet step in time with theirs as they rock backward, to the side, on the balls of their feet as they rotate you under their arm while keeping your hands connected. In some unfamiliar array of movements, your hand drops from one of theirs, sliding across their collar to the other with another soft spin.

Really good.

"Are you kidding me?" You practically hiss. They just snicker low in response, their lips now close to your ear as they pull you flush against them.

"Please don't tell anyone, it'll ruin my reputation."

The laughter that cascades from your mouth is bright enough to put the stars to shame.

[musicmushi]

Through Rose Comes Thorn Chapter 1

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK TOO LONG I WAS IN A CAR WRECK AND SCHOOL HAS BEEN CRAZY

It had been a rough few years for the citizens of Mobius, to say the very least. With the war and the metal virus pandemic sweeping throughout, it was safe to say it had taken its toll, and the resistance leaders felt burnt out. Yes, they had cured the public by removing the spread of the virus. But that didn't revert any of its damage.

The resources were down; Tails' lab and equipment were all but destroyed entirely, and help was low. Lower than what Amy would have liked. Combine that with the Chaotix team expecting payment for finding Eggman, and it all just seemed too much. Simply too much! Thank goodness for Jewel being naturally organized and willing to step in! If Amy had to handle all of it on her own like before, she would have snapped under pressure; she's sure of it.

A lot of work still needed to get done, but the virus and the war were indeed over. Sonic and Tangle insisted on celebrating a very hard-earned victory, and Amy couldn't help but agree. So there they all stood, laughing and drinking the night away. And there she stood with them, thinking about all they had lost and desperately trying to plan a way to fix it while appearing happy and in the moment.

Why couldn't she relax and celebrate with her friends!? Jewel is handling the resource organization now! Amy made sure no one watched as she heaved a sigh and tried to tear away from her thoughts. Her eyes darted around in a way she hoped would seem casual until she found Sonic laughing at a story Tangle was telling.

Amy would be allowed to stare at Sonic while she gathered herself. She had a crush on him ever since they met, right? Everyone knew it! You're supposed to look at your crush when you feel overwhelming feelings and thoughts...right? Though he always seemed uncomfortable and put off by her attention...But that was fine! The chase is fun! Was he...always that shade of blue? And he was so afraid of connection, yet he practically adopted Tails! What was up with that?!

"Hello??! Ground control to Agent Rose! Are you in there?!" a familiar voice called Amy back into the present.

"Huh? Oh...Hey Sonic." she smiled distantly at the blue blur.

"Are you feeling alright? You were staring at me...more than usual." Sonic tried to act annoyed but somewhat failed.

"Was I staring? I didn't...I'm fine I'm just-" Amy looked at the ground and back up at Sonic's green eyes that seemed to glitter like a chaos emerald in the light. "Just really burnt out after everything I guess." Amy let out a half-hearted fake laugh to show it wasn't serious.

Sonic's eyes softened as he sighed " Oh. Yeah, I understand" He stretched his arms behind his head and kicked a bit of dirt off his shoe. "This was a lot to deal with..." Sonic blinked hard a few times and then smiled his usual crooked grin. "But I mean, hey! It's nothing we couldn't handle! We already won!" he nudged Amy's shoulder playfully.

Amy nodded and smiled at her long-time hero "Yeah. You're right. We won! Now we get to just relax." She hoped that Sonic would drop it for his sake. Every time she tried talking to him about resource inventory and the paperwork that came with running the resistance he helped start, he'd always want to bail out somehow insisting that Amy or even Sally were the ones good at that sorta thing. Amy knew that running was Sonic's trademark thing but just this once she'd like to confide in someone willing to sit with her in it.

"Right! Just kick back and enjoy the party! You can worry about all the other stuff later." Sonic offered his arm to lead Amy toward the crowd gathering around Jewel and Tangle who were attempting to use Tangle's tail like a jump rope while balancing drinks in their hands.

Amy took Sonic's arm almost by habit and they walked closer to the commotion as Tangle and Jewel's jump rope quickly became a stunt show.

"Is she drunk right now?" Amy asked almost flatly, noticing Tangle's rosy cheeks and mostly stable backflip.

"Probably" Sonic answered, not even looking in Amy's direction.

It was then that Amy realized she was still holding onto Sonic's arm and looked up at him. He was indeed handsome as heroes go. His blue quills looked sleek and his eyes were alive with optimism and a hunger for adventure. He was tall and funny and charming. He was a great guy! So then why did she want to let go? Why did this feel off-putting and weird? Maybe it's because he was never interested and she's picking up on it? No, he's always been the first to run! He's been avoiding her for years! It's not like his disinterest is new. Shouldn't she be melting in his arms by now? That's what you do with your crush! That's what everyone says is supposed to happen!

"Uhhh...Amy?" Sonic looked back at her. Amy shook her head out of that weird cloud of thoughts.

"Sorry! I was spacing out again, wasn't I?" Amy could feel her face grow hot as she let go of Sonic's arm a bit too quickly.

"Big time. Are you...sure you're alright?" Sonic looked skeptical and a little confused.

Amy felt a hint of panic set in. How was she going to explain that this whole interaction felt wrong?! How would that even make sense? "Y-yeah I'm fine, just...thinking about the future ya know?" she sighed and gave her best darling smile

Sonic shuffled a couple of steps away from Amy " The future, huh? Well, I'm glad to hear that you seem back to normal...enough" Sonic gave a lazy wave and turned to leave the crowd.

Great. Not that his response wasn't out of the ordinary for him or anything. But he left her in the middle of a rambunctious crowd of all their friends. Amy suddenly felt exhausted and overstimulated all at once. The crowd cheered as Tangle began juggling while Jewel stepped away to catch her breath. Amy could feel a migraine creeping in and decided to call it a night. As she turned and shuffled past Vector and Espio singing a shanty, she saw Sonic walking with Tails and being his typical avoidant self. Amy couldn't help but roll her eyes and sigh.

[cesabutterflywrites]

“Marry me.” Moceit or intruality (whichever you want)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! SEND PROMPTS!

Word Count:  996

Notes: Self-doubt, insecure thoughts 

Remus was never scared. Why should he be? He was the one who inflicted fear to others, whether on purpose or not. He was the one always  in control. He was chaotic, spontaneous- he never planned ahead.

That is, until he met the first person who he wanted to protect from everything, including himself. The one who captured his ugly heart. Patton was the opposite of everything Remus represented. He was fun, he was personable, likable. He was so beautiful. He saw life through rose-colored glasses. Well, figuratively.

Remus fidgeted with his green light up fidget spinner. He felt the small box in his pocket was a weight. Not pulling him down, God no, Patton was never pulling him down. That was everyone else. Everyone else thought of him as lesser than. Rough, horrid, ugly- he learned in early childhood to embrace the image in order to never be hurt. Can’t be disappointed if everything about you is horribly unpleasant

Then he met Patton. God, Patton, he lifted Remus up on a pedestal that hurt at first. Patton had infinite patience. Remus used to lash out. He’d accuse, he’d scream, he’d resist-yet Patton pushed through. Patton put aside his discomfort. He stayed up with Remus every night. He withstood Remus’ ugly nature. He found the monster that Remus thought of himself as, endearing.

The best part, the part that Remus loved most? Patton never expected a change. He never wanted Remus to be normal. Never asked Remus to tone it down. He only wanted to soothe the pain of rejection that stabbed at Remus’ heart at two in the morning. He looked at Remus as if he were the moon. That adoration is what drove Remus to the decision to propose. 

He got to the park where he had planned to meet up with his boyfriend.He started setting up what he needed. The setting needed to be better than what Patton ever dreamed of. Remus had planned ahead. Nothing could go wrong. 

He was done setting up when he saw Patton making his way up the path. His brunet hair shined in the light of the setting sun. He looked so beautiful; his face was painted with orange and pink hues, accenting his freckles the best. His shoulders were adorned with the cat hoodie he had been wearing when they first met. His crooked smile reflected to Remus what he could never be-beautiful.

Patton set the picnic basket he had in his arms down gentle before jumping into Remus’ arms.  He peppered kisses all over Remus’ face, causing them both to laugh. Remus held onto the shorter man after they calmed down. Patton giggled, then must have sensed that Remus was off. 

“Mus? What’s wrong, my love?” Patton asked, pulling away with concern. 

Remus laughed, a nervous edge bordering on hysteria lacing his voice. “Nothing, Sugar! I just feel extra happy to see you.” 

“Oh, I’m happy to see you too,” Patton sighed in relief. “Wanna sit? I haven’t eaten in a bit.”

Patton sat down, then looked up at Remus in bewilderment. “You gonna sit and eat?”

“Yes, I just need to do something first.”

Patton tilted his head, still smiling but confusion decorated all over his face. He was so adorable. Remus smiled back, a surge of confidence in his body. He could do this. 

He didn’t want to waste time with fancy words. He had the rest of their lives to do so. With no more hesitation, he pulled the ring box out of his pocket, and knelt on his knee. Patton’s eyes instantly welled with tears as he cupped his hand over his mouth to cover a gasp of shock. 

“Marry me.” Remus requested, simple. All of the chaos in his mind and body cleared enough to know for certain this is what he wanted. 

Patton sat there, crying into his hand. It wasn’t a no. It couldn’t be. 

“…Say something, please.” Remus felt blood roaring into his head. He couldn’t have messed this up. Everything else could be destroyed at his hands except his relationship with Patton. 

Doubt succeeded in clouding his vision. Or were those tears? Most likely, both, and he slowly set the box down. He was about to curl into himself when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up, and teary eyes met teary eyes, then smiling lips met surprised lips. They embraced, and Remus felt the weight of doubt start to climb off of his chest. 

“Of course,” Patton sniffled with a watery smile, “Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I? You are so perfect to me, Remus.” 

Remus felt secure in that opinion. Patton was the only direction he was sure of, he needed to know if the other man felt the same. 

“Are you sure?” he let his voice drip with vulnerability. 

Patton picked up the ring box, opened it, and smiled. It was a gold ring, and instead of a diamond there was an emerald encrusted octopus. 

“It’s perfect,” Patton whispered in reverence as he put it on. “Just like you.”

Smiled, happy that the one he chose was the right one. “I love you. I’d be lost without you.” 

Patton smiled brightly, holding his hand out to see the ring glitter in the sunset. The warm summer breeze just accentuated the perfection of the moment. Patton leaned into Remus’ chest. Remus automatically started stroking his fiance’s hair. 

“I just realized something,” Remus remarked, “This is the only good thing I’ve done that hasn’t involved fake blood, dick jokes, trash, or a rat army.” 

Patton snorted, sat up, and crawled over to the picnic basket. He gave Remus his egg salad sandwich, and held his own cheese and bologna up. “I propose a toast, to the first day of Remus finally being tied down!”

Remus mock-toasted, smiling at the pun. They watched the sun set, content in each other’s space. Remus felt, for the first time in his life, stable. 

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Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist for any ship!

[insanitysscribblings]

Back To Us: Reading Map

Someone asked for it AGES ago, so finally, here it is! I tried to minimize spoilers as much as possible just in case new readers happen across this. Hope it helps! <3 (Under a readmore because it’s FUCKIN’ LONG [but who is surprised at this point?])

Chapter One: Prologue

Ladybug and Chat Noir are doing their hero thing when an unforeseen tragedy splits them apart. Marinette struggles with her identity as a hero and Adrien flees the country in the wake of tragedy.

Chapter Two: Seven Years Later...

What it says on the tin. We get a glimpse into an older Marinette as an aspiring fashion student who comes across a grown-up Adrien by chance. As she plots the details of a fashion competition, and laments the state of her internship, an akuma attacks Paris for the first time in seven years. Ladybug appears to deal with the issue, only to discover that Chat Noir has returned as well.

Chapter Three: Strangers pt. 1

Ladybug enlists Chat’s help to take down the akuma, only to discover that his heroic philosophies have skewed over the years. Meanwhile, Marinette seeks to impress Adrien with her fashion prowess, only to be sorely disappointed by his cold response.

Chapter Four: Strangers pt. 2

Ladybug and Chat Noir clash as they deal with an akuma close to home. Adrien makes a date with Ladybug. Later, Ladybug and Chat Noir argue about the past, the present, and the future. (Yes, this is the chapter where @edendaphne​‘s comic comes into play.) Marinette finds the courage to stand up to Adrien and assert her boundaries with him.

Chapter Five: Enigma

Marinette decides to start training for akuma attacks. She runs into Adrien (literally) and they jog to a bakery where Marinette’s parents proceed to embarrass her. Marinette seeks hero/boy advice from her old master. Adrien’s date with Ladybug doesn’t go as he hoped.

Chapter Six: Guardian

With Alya’s help, Marinette finds a way to push past recent distractions and start developing ideas for her own fashion line. Marinette’s boss interrupts by sending her to retrieve her wayward assistant Felix. As Marinette goes hunting for him, she comes across a terrifying scene at Master Fu’s. As he recovers, he puts her in charge of very important things. Symone, Marinette’s boss, becomes a hypocrite.

Chapter Seven: Autograph

Marinette struggles with her decision to let her boss plagiarize from her. Eventually, she decides it isn’t worth it. Adrien indirectly makes fun of her for never signing a card years ago.

Chapter Eight: Ruined

Marinette adjusts to life without her internship as well as working without Chat Noir. She and Desiree talk shop, and she becomes suspicious of Felix (not for the first time). During an akuma attack, Marinette gives Chat Noir a piece of her mind, and then shames Paris as Ladybug for being callous towards an akumatized victim. She indirectly pleads for Chat Noir to return to her, but he rejects her.

Chapter Nine: Friends

Adrien and Nino have an unpleasant reunion. This bothers Adrien so much that Marinette has to have a late-night intervention with him that carries into the next morning, when they go to see a familiar face for professional help.

Chapter Ten: Recovery pt. 1

Adrien begins the slow road to recovery. At one point, Nino gives him the business for the way their friendship ended...but leaves the door open to said friendship, just in case. Marinette gets her second jogging gift from Adrien (this is a thing).

Chapter Eleven: Recovery pt. 2

Adrien struggles with his new philosophy on akumatized victims, only for his resolve to crumble when he sees too much of himself in a bruised little girl hiding behind borrowed power. Conflicted, Adrien flees to his therapist and confesses perhaps more than is advised. Nevertheless, Nino welcomes him back into the fold. Marinette gains a clue about a hidden ally. Later, Nino gets a super surprise in the mail.

Chapter Twelve: Surprise! pt. 1

Marinette begins work on her fashion line. Adrien invites her on a not-date. Alya makes a bet with Marinette.

Chapter Thirteen: Surprise! pt. 2

A new hero by the moniker Emerald Shell arrives on the scene to assist Ladybug in her hour of need. Chat Noir pays Marinette a surprise night visit. Marinette shares a secret with Nino. The hidden ally has a name: Pavone.

Chapter Fourteen: Duty

Marinette and Nino seek advice from their aging master. Alya preps Marinette for her not-date. She and Adrien spend time ‘not’ flirting, and Marinette invites him to spend Christmas with her and her folks.

Chapter Fifteen: Mistletoe

The Ball Chapter. Marinette is thrust into a glittering world of the rich and famous, but she finds familiar faces nonetheless in the form of Desiree and Felix. A misunderstanding naturally causes an akuma, and afterwards, Adrien gets closure from Ladybug. Later, he and Marinette stumble under a mistletoe, and after a Christmas gift from Marinette, Adrien realizes he fucked up.

Chapter Sixteen: Trouble

Adrien spends an agonizing session at his therapist’s as he wrestles with newfound feelings. Felix gives Marinette unsolicited advice as she tries to close her parents’ bakery. Later, she stumbles upon Adrien standing in the rain and drags him home to dry off. Goofing off happens...and leads to something more.

Chapter Seventeen: Heat

Tikki and Plagg share a moment. Adrien and Marinette confirm that they are, indeed, attracted to each other. Domestic shit happens. Alya reluctantly wins a bet.

Chapter Eighteen: Deception

Nino finds himself mediating between his overprotective girlfriend and his helpless best friend. He also teases Marinette about her and Adrien’s not-relationship. Emerald Shell and Ladybug deal with an akuma, and then talk relationships. Alya gets the wrong impression from an overheard conversation between Marinette and Nino.

Chapter Nineteen: Faith

Alya doesn’t appreciate the silent treatment. She gets some unexpected advice from Desiree, and decides to do what she does best and investigate matters on her own. Unfortunately, she and Nino are unable to see eye to eye, which puts their relationship in jeopardy. Later, a frank conversation with Emerald Shell becomes too honest, and Alya accidentally discovers a couple of secrets. She and Nino reconcile, and Nino happens to spy a stray cat watching over a ladybug. Nino and Alya’s relationship is taken to the next level.

Chapter Twenty: Balance

Marinette rejoices in Alya’s engagement. Alya interrogates her about her not-relationship with Adrien. Marinette and Adrien privately agree to be ‘friends who kiss a lot’. Later, Ladybug’s negligence results in a suicide, and the widow becomes akumatized. Ladybug is almost defeated, but at the last minute, Chat Noir appears to save the day, and their partnership is restored.

Chapter Twenty-One: Blind

Emerald Shell is not pleased. (That’s it, that’s the chapter.) Nino expresses concern for one of his best friends. Marinette receives unexpected visitors—the first is unwelcome, as opposed to the second. Marinette flirts a little with Chat Noir, only to learn that he’s seeing someone. Uncomfortable after the night’s events, Marinette decides to bunk with Alya for a few days.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Bonds pt. 1

A press conference announcing Chat Noir’s return to the side of Good is not well-received by the citizens. Ladybug registers the change in dynamic between her and Chat, and is not sure what to make of it. Meanwhile, Alya encourages Marinette to pursue Adrien, but when Marinette shows up unannounced, she finds a woman in a towel in his home.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Bonds pt. 2

Marinette behaves like a fucking adult and allows Adrien to introduce her to his friend/ex-girlfriend, Erika. Through Erika, Marinette discovers Adrien and Felix are cousins. She and Erika start a frank conversation about Adrien, but the subject of said conversation interrupts. Erika goes off for a walk, and a couple minutes later, an akuma appears to terrorize the city. A face stealer transplants Chat’s face onto Emerald Shell’s shield when he jumps in the way to save Ladybug. The face stealer is chased off by a Miraculous wielder by the name of Camille.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Bonds pt. 3

Despite Ladybug not trusting her (and becoming overprotective of Chat Noir), she, Camille, and the rest of Team Miraculous devise a plan to track down the akuma. Ladybug assumes she knows who the akumatized victim is, but then circumstantial evidence points her towards Camille instead. Alya accidentally discovers Chat Noir’s secret. Nino points out an inconvenient truth to Marinette. Before Erika returns to Italy, she confides the existence of a troubling Miraculous wielder to Marinette: Shade.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Coincidence...?

The Valentine’s Day Chapter. Marinette and Nino are advised by Master Fu to bring Chat Noir into their counsel. Adrien asks Alya for another favor. Marinette and Adrien go on a proper date, though they spend much of the night confusing each other. An ill-timed akuma appears, and Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t help but notice each other’s fancy additions. Later, a multitude of clues lead Adrien to the conclusion that Marinette may not be who he thought she was at all.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Suspicions

Marinette comes to the same conclusion Adrien does...but then decides that she doesn’t want to know for sure. Not yet. Plagg dresses down Adrien in front of his therapist. Alya does a collective facepalm upon hearing Marinette (sort of) express her misgivings about Adrien. Alya tags along to an akuma fight, much to Emerald Shell’s chagrin. The Anti-Akuma Taskforce bump heads with a new group identified as the Akumatized Victims Anonymous, and chaos breaks out before Alya tricks them all into clearing off with the sound of a police siren. Afterwards, Marinette entrusts the search for a new Miraculous wielder to Nino.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Aesthetics

Nino and Marinette try to gather clues on the Butterfly and Shade. Marinette runs into Desiree while shopping, and Desiree brings up some concerning questions before Felix interrupts out of the blue. Marinette’s fashion line is finally revealed in her university’s competition. She and Adrien dance around forbidden knowledge.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Outfoxed

Nino makes a decision on who should join Team Miraculous, but then falls for the oldest trick in the book. Alya gets acquainted with her new powers.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Changes

On top of everything else she has to do, Ladybug agrees to be the face of a new unity campaign Deputy Mayor Reine proposes when tension between AVA and AAT only continue to escalate. Meanwhile, Alya decides to use her powers for Good by slipping behind enemy lines in disguise.

Chapter Thirty: Shadow

Marinette and Adrien’s alone time is interrupted by fashion disasters. Still, the fashion show goes off without a hitch...until Shade crashes the party.

Chapter Thirty-One: Anarchy

Team Miraculous comes to the unpleasant conclusion that Shade knows more than she should. Meanwhile, AVA wreaks enough havoc that the mayor feels threatened and does the unthinkable. Emerald Shell spots a familiar Miraculous and leaves to confront the owner. Meanwhile, with AVA’s leadership in shambles, Alya suggests that they take things in another direction. When she returns home, a very angry surprise awaits her.

Chapter Thirty-Two: Tension

Team Miraculous (both in and out of their suits) deal with the aftermath of the last chapter. AVA’s new approach to protesting moves Marinette, and she and Alya stage a makeshift fashion show with AVA wearing Marinette’s designs, a decision that does not thrill Adrien.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Revealed

Everything comes to a head in this chapter. Adrien loses patience with Marinette’s constant promises of ‘later’, and they are cornered at the Eiffel Tower by Shade and the citizens under her thrall. Both heroes nearly meet their doom, only to be assisted at the last minute by Pavone. Where one couple of Team Miraculous reconciles, the other splits.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Squad

Marinette makes moves towards her future, despite her love life being in shambles. Vixen is introduced to Team Miraculous, and they have a pow-wow to share information. After patrol, Vixen splits, and Ladybug forces Emerald Shell and Chat Noir into a reveal of their own. Nino and Adrien return to Adrien’s place for a talk, and Adrien is comforted during a breakdown by his best friend.

Chapter Thirty-Five: Amends

The Wedding Chapter. Marinette and Adrien deal with their broken hearts as best they can while sitting through Ivan and Myléne’s wedding. It takes the combined efforts of their friends and the strength of their own hearts for Marinette and Adrien to reconcile at last.

Chapter Thirty-Six: Finale

The Final Chapter. Everyone who hasn’t been revealed yet is unmasked, including Alya, Camille, and Felix. Team Miraculous splits up to deal with the akuma flooding Paris as well as chasing down Shade, who reveals the motivation behind her actions at last. Past mistakes are almost repeated in the heroes’ pursuit, but all is well that ends well.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Epilogue

What it says on the tin. Banter is shared, relationships have progressed happily, and things are peaceful. Thus, Longfic the Toothy comes to a quiet close.

[cmoroneybooks]

Unmasking: Part One

Order is the ruling concept of the Andalan faith and the nations that bow before it. Anything done in the name of maintaining order is considered justified, no matter how perverse or cruel. Anything powerful, unpredictable, or free is regulated or destroyed. It is this thinking from which the Dagasi Order, a system of legal assassination was born.

Designed to keep the grudges of the petty and powerful from spilling into open warfare and stealing the lives of the innocent and weak, the Order is a mysterious but widely accepted part of life in the upper echelons of Andalan society. Andalan nobles scoff at the barbarians to the East who call the Dagasi Order and its practices savage. They tut at the unruly and unregulated magics which lie beyond the invisible line that divides the continent between Andalan and other. They worship the Gods of Order and Chaos, but only one affects their judgement.  

Georgiana served the Order despite its cruelty. She excelled despite her slight stature and sex. She killed for her freedom and killed some more for her fortune. It was all supposed to end in peace and serenity, but unfortunately for Georgiana she fell in love with an ambitious man and he loves her just as much.  

Her dress rustled with every step, the layered black silk whispering secrets to anyone who paused to listen. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦! Even amongst the hubris of the crowded antechamber full of slow-moving aristocrats, petty rulers, and merchant princes, her ears caught every whisper her skirts made. This announcement of her presence brought a prickle of unease between her shoulder blades.

Georgiana clutched tightly to Marcel's arm, perhaps a little too tightly. He had repeatedly glanced over at her as they made their way through the stream of over-decorated butterflies. His face was impassive, green eyes unreadable even to her, but the gesture alone spoke of concern. She loosened her grip and forced herself to relax. At least, she forced her body to relax, over that she had complete control, even now after so many hours spent at a writing desk instead of training. Her shoulders fell back, her torso shifted in line with her pelvis and she curved her lips just slightly, in an imitation of an unconscious smile. Marcel wouldn't be fooled; he would carry the concern all night. A tightness in his jaw, a slight curve of his spine as he walked. Little things only she would notice, but there all the same.

"Relax," he breathed, his words not going past her ears.

Georgiana shot him a look that would have withered up and blown away lesser men, but her husband only smiled.

Balls and upper-class gatherings of all kinds brought up memories of her time in the Dagasi Order as one of Andala's sanctified assassins. Hours spent crouched in shadows, blood splatters on fine fabric and priceless floors, the surprise on each and every face.

Memories Georgiana preferred to repress.

It wasn't remembering the people she had killed that bothered her. In fact, she was proud of several of those assassinations. No, it was remembering how easy it had been to kill them, even the trained fighters.

"We're on hallowed ground,' Marcel reminded her as a stern-faced guardsman, who barely remembered to incline his head in acknowledgement, ushered them through one large, ornate antechamber and into another. "Violence is strictly prohibited."

"So is politics," Georgiana shot back as they moved into a room illuminated by green light. Marcel didn't reply, his attention caught up by the source of the light.

In the center of the room was a portal's whirling vortex within an archway formed of entwined vines of emerald fire. Trailing tendrils of flame crept down the marble pathway that led to the fiery arch as if reaching for the guests. Here the disorganized mass of moving people stopped, being directed through the fiery portal in small groups by two hulking guardsmen.

To the side of the archway, behind the guardsmen, an unusually tall mage stood. His skin was completely hairless, devoid of eyebrows, lashes, or any hair at all upon his head, limbs, or face. His skin was almost supernaturally pale. His eyes had only the barest hint of blue and were nearly colourless. The black band of a slave, glittering with enchantments encircled his neck. She openly stared at him as she passed, but he didn't return her gaze, his disturbing eyes fixed on the pulsating light of the entrance. An albino with power, and a lot of it judging by his bland expression. He was quite the prize.

Perhaps he was a gift from some influential popinjay that wanted to get in Zahra's good graces now that her daughter was The Fire That Sustains. As the spiritual guide of the South she could command the hearts and minds of half the people on the continent -, commons, and nobles alike.  A capability that Zahra, by extension, now also enjoyed.

Stepping through the archway burned cold; a breath later and they were through the other side. The warm air was a shock against her skin and the blazing light of hundreds of candles reflected against their crystalline chandeliers burned her eyes.  A hand squeezed her stomach painfully as she blinked away blind spots, the skin between her shoulder blades burned, and her chest tightened. Sensing her anxiety Marcel dropped the arm her hand delicately rested on, abandoning formality to wrap his arm around her shoulders instead.

Georgiana pushed back unwelcome memories of dark rooms, burning light, and pain. She clenched her hands into tight fists to help fight off the urge to reach up and touch the two bladed pins that held her hair in place. It was a precarious thing the hairstyle that kept the blades away from her scalp. She didn't want to undo her maid's good work out of mere paranoia.

Once her vision cleared Georgiana recognised the entrance hall of Andefor Manor, some thousand miles away from the corridors of the Hall of Ascendancy where they had been a second before.

𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

Despite losing the protection hallowed ground offered against violence, the sight of Andefor Manor's entrance hall calmed her. It was as familiar as the Hall of Ascendancy was alien. It was here that she had completed both her first and final contract for the Order.

Since she had last visited, the manor had been redone in the classical style. Columns of aged marble reached up to support the vaulted ceiling as ever, but now golden vines had been painted around them twining up towards the sky. The floors had been redone in milky quartz, polished to shining, and the walls were draped in lengths of satin. Alternating between the shining gold and crimson emblem of The Fire That Sustains, and the green and black coat of arms of the House of Andefor.  Gentle piano music hung in the air and an unseen choir sung a wordless hymn, their voices brimming with reverence.

"A bit much wouldn't you say?" Marcel murmured, leaning in towards her ear as he did. Georgiana repressed a shiver at her husband's closeness, and she felt his lips twist into a smile.

"I preferred the marble floors myself."

"Yes, you would," he said with an exaggerated sigh. Georgiana just smiled beatifically; she had just spent an exorbitant amount of money having the façade of their townhouse in Halossa sheathed in marble.

"I suppose it's difficult to really enjoy the carousing in the Hall of Ascendancy."

"Nothing like being reminded of the gods to turn you off sin for the night," Marcel said. "And a sinless celebration would be something of a failure."

"Especially given the tastes of Iman," Georgiana agreed, thinking of the party she had attended the year before when she had first met the ruler of the Vestika Imperium. Most brothels were a picture of chastity and innocence compared to the debauchery she witnessed that night.

"Apparently he prefers blondes," Marcel said as they navigated the crowds.

"He does," Georgiana agreed looking out into the crowd. There was a disgusting amount of taffeta and satin, which was unfortunate as the next several years in fashion would be directly inspired by what was worn tonight. There was also an unusual number of blonde women whose faces she couldn't put a name to.

"I don't know her," Marcel said, having followed her gaze to the face of a silver-eyed blonde girl, barely more than a child by the look of her.

"I doubt anyone here does."

The many guests, most already familiar with the layout of Andefor Manor, were moving through the open double doors at the far end of the room, which led to the reception hall and ballroom beyond. The reception hall had been redecorated similarly to the entrance hall, but with the added addition of a golden throne set on a raised platform in the very centre of the room.

Georgiana recognised most of the guests that swirled around them, as they pushed further into the reception hall. Courtiers from the Attessan city-states, high ranking priests, wealthy commoners like herself and Marcel, Imperial aristocrats, and the sovereign lord of not one, but nine nations. There was an unusual energy among them all. A thrumming excitement, unseen but unmistakable.

"It's a holy day, they can relax" Marcel said, noticing her staring off into the crowd. "So, can you."

Georgiana would love to believe him, but she couldn't. Her Dagasi price had been inquired after two moons past. She was only lucky her service to the Order meant it was exorbitantly high. Apparently, her would-be murderer couldn't afford it, but that was cold comfort. At the night market in Halossa - known for illegal activity -, a well-dressed man had been asking around for the services of an illegitimate, non-Dagasi, assassin.

Someone wanted her dead.

Someone who was willing to sacrifice their honour and integrity to see it done. Willing to deal with cut-throats and side-step the ancient system, which had kept the continent from dissolving into open warfare for centuries. Perhaps even dirty their own hands. And what better time to catch her unaware than on a holy day?

No, she couldn't relax, especially with Marcel on her arm. Her husband had many talents, but self-defense was not one of them.

They had crossed the breadth of the reception room now and Marcel steered them towards the far corner of the room. The Dominus and Domina of Milkain, a wealthy, aristocratic couple of some standing in the Imperium, were sitting there together on one of the deep purple velvet lounges, a table laden with fruits and cheeses in front of them.  The Dominus, Ibrahim, was an intelligent man who shared many of Marcel's drier areas of interest and so, despite his pleasant temperament, was a rather boring man. His wife, Amira, made up for him. She was a vivacious and engaging woman who was considered by many to be the most fashionable woman on the continent and supposedly one of the purest Varani living. She certainly looked it. In a room filled with coffee-brown Estans and ebony-black Varani purists she had the darkest skin of any. No small feat, and her eyes, which lit up with welcome as they approached, were a vibrant purple that was never seen in anything less than pure-blooded Varani. Blessedly, she was in fine linen dyed a soft grey and embroidered with silver flowers. If Amira had worn taffeta, it would have cemented the trend irreversibly.

Ibrahim rose, gesturing for Georgiana to take his place beside Amira. Grateful to get off her feet she sat down beside Amira who flung her arms around Georgiana's shoulders with unembarrassed affection. Georgiana gave her a genuine smile. She didn't often attach herself to people, but Amira had found a place in her heart from their first meeting.

"How did you like the ceremony?" Amira asked in a conspiratorial whisper as their husbands waved over one of the many servants in gold-trimmed livery who hovered around the guests.

"We were seated in the sixteenth row, so we didn't see a great deal. The music was very good, however."

"That is very close for a commoner," Amira remarked. "Marcel must have been pleased."

"He was, especially given the Comte of Avada was in the row behind us."

"The seventeenth row?" Amira looked shocked. "Blood feuds have been started over smaller insults."

"He must have done something to offend Zahra. I'm told she saw to the seating chart personally."

"I imagine he is not long for this world."

"I, for one, will not miss him." It was Ibrahim who spoke, he and Marcel returning to them, a servant following anxiously at their heels, his lips moving soundlessly in some incantation.

"He's a bit of an idiot," Marcel agreed sitting down in the winged armchair the servant had materialised out of nowhere. Purple velvet, a perfect match for the lounge. A twin armchair materialised beside it and Ibrahim dismissed the server with a smile and nod.

"I would have said poorly educated."

"Only because you're a snob."

Ibrahim waved a hand at Marcel dismissively. "You are uncouth."

"I'm shocked to hear you use such language, Your Excellency," Georgiana said with a grin that Ibrahim returned.

"Your husband has been a bad influence on my behavior, I fear, ma'am."

"Naturally," Marcel said with a sly grin. "But you're better for it. So, how was the ceremony from the sixth row? I noticed you two have moved up in the world recently."

"It was -" Amira shook her head, a far-off look in her violet eyes. She leaned in closer. "It was disturbing if I am honest. You could see the spirit take her. One moment a little girl, the next -"

"The Fire That Sustains," Marcel finished for her.

"I only hope that Johanna herself wasn't burnt away in that fire."

"Well, tradition tells us that both the spirit and the bearer are present in that holy union."

"As does our personal experience with Johanna's predecessor," Ibrahim added. "No one could say Nasira lacked for her own, distinct, personality." A servant appeared at his elbow, a golden tray with four glasses of rich, red liquid held out.

"Your drinks Your Excellencies, sir and ma'am."

"I asked for cherry wine and they've got Bavordan vintages," Ibrahim said as they all accepted their drinks from the servant, who bowed when Marcel took the last drink off the tray and quickly scurried away.

Amira held her drink aloft. "The Fire That Sustains, long may she burn."

The rest of them raised their glasses, repeating "long may she burn," and they all took a drink. The wine was tart despite the sweetness of cherries and rich like all Bavordan reds.

As they toasted a hush fell over the room. Georgiana looked over Marcel's shoulder to see Johanna Andefor, The Fire That Sustains, representative of the Mother Creator on earth and spiritual guide of the South standing in the doorway. She was small, even for an eight-year-old girl. The badge of her rank, a crown of fire opals and gold carved into the likeness of roses on a vine, sat precariously on her head. Tilted back so it didn't fall over her face. She was Zahra in miniature, with her silky black braids and delicate features, but her eyes had turned grey where they were once her mother's warm brown. She looked out at them all for a moment and Georgiana scrambled to her feet so that she, like the rest of the assembled guests, could drop to her knees and press her face into the ground.

"Rise," she said, her soft, soprano voice carrying across the room.

Georgiana waited a moment before getting to her feet. There was a delicate balance of ego amongst the more sensitive nobility that she had no interest in upsetting by rising before them. Marcel followed suit.  Amira and Ibrahim watched them with amusement, having stood immediately.

"I always forget the two of you are commoners," Ibrahim said as Johanna strode purposefully towards her throne, people melting out of her path.

"I'm also a literal bastard," Georgiana added to a snort of laughter Ibrahim tried to cover up as a cough. "But I'm a rich bastard and that's really all that matters."

"As I am to celebrate my flower day in less than a month I could not agree more," Amira said with a wide smile, linking her arm in Georgiana's. "Rich bastards tend to be excellent gift-givers." Georgiana returned the smile thinking of the purple tourmaline and gold jewelry set, inlaid with outrageously expensive protective charms, she had commissioned for her friend.

"We should probably mingle," Ibrahim said. "Taxation reform is never popular, and I promised His Illustriousness we would try to curry favour for it."

"We?" Marcel asked with a raised eyebrow. "I don't remember Iman offering to pay me."

"Considering the new reforms would let you expand your venture beyond the Attessan states and into the Imperium - "

"Well in that case." The two of them shared a slow, satisfied smile. Amira too was smiling but Georgiana had to hold back a sigh, polite small talk with people who looked down on her wasn't her idea of fun. Reluctantly she followed them further into the room and towards a group of Imperial nobles.

"Do not look so sullen, Georgie," Amira said in a singsong voice. "You should learn to love occasions like this!"

Georgiana opened her mouth, a witty retort on the tip of her tongue, but the words died in her throat as she felt a breeze on her neck and her gut twisted with the primal knowledge she was being watched.  Without conscious thought, she doubled over, dragging Amira down with her and neatly avoiding a blade aimed for her head.

A dull, wet thud and a scream. A blade thrown in a crowded room was always sure to hit someone. Georgiana pushed Amira behind her and into the crowd which had erupted in startled shouts and curses. Guardsmen who had before been trying to look unobtrusive now forced the crowd apart, pushing aside aristocrats and priests without care. As she moved, her would -be killer, a middle-aged balding man, made to slam into her only to find empty air. She nearly laughed as she finished the movement she had begun, sweeping her right foot into a wide circle as she spun, her feet never once losing contact with the ground. She slammed her shin into the back of his knee, knocking him to the floor in front of her.

𝘈𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘶𝘳.

The fear of before was gone. Waiting for an unseen assailant was one thing, but with the violence out in the open she was again in her element. She straightened, hand flying to the ornamental hairpin holding her dark locks in place. That would have been it for him, her instincts told her to kill first and ask questions later. But a second attacker, a young man with taunting eyes, saved him when Georgiana was forced to duck out of the way as he came hurtling towards her. She moved backwards and to her left, letting him barrel past her she slashed her arm. The hairpin caught him in the cheek, and he screamed as blood gushed down his face. Georgiana felt a breeze of movement on her right arm and twisted out of the path of another attacker. A short, lithe blonde woman rushed past her, going further than she planned without Georgiana to slow her momentum. She ran right into the blade of a quicker guardsmen's sword, impaling herself. Georgiana swiveled back to face the man she had slashed, the half-impaled girl already forgotten. He moved more cautiously now but still smirked at her. She wanted to slap that look off his face.

"You're very young to die," her voice was low and husky, as they circled each other, ignoring the shouts and ringing steel as guardsmen and military-minded guests alike moved to engage the other ambushers. They had apparently come in numbers. "Surrendering might save your life."

He didn't answer, rushing her instead. Evade and strike, a memory whispered. She rolled out of the way – her first mistake. Her layered silk dress wasn't designed with acrobatics in mind and the roll tangled her up in it. Her attacker noticed and that obnoxious grin lit his face again and so Georgiana made her second mistake. Her blade shot across the room, following the path of her eyes to bury itself in his throat. He made a retching noise, clutching at his throat and dropping to his knees. The shock on his face was almost worth losing her only weapon, the other hairpin had fallen out of her hair during the fight. She was free for only a second. Just long enough to get to her feet and see that Marcel was safe behind the battle lines the guardsmen had drawn up to entrap the would-be assassins.

Then her fourth attacker was upon her.

He was at a disadvantage, having fought his way to her. Blood stained his brown breeches dark on his right side. His face pale under coffee brown skin, sable eyes very wide. He didn't rush her, holding back from the move that had proved fatal for his compatriots. Instead they circled, the dance of death a teacher had once called it. It was something to be avoided according to that teacher, best to throw them off, give them no time to think. No time to fear. Fear could sharpen or break an opponent. That teaching had been a warning. But in Georgiana's opinion, if wielded properly, fear was a potent weapon.

She pushed her circle out wider, edging herself towards the blade lodged in his comrade's throat. It took him longer than it should have to notice she was getting closer to a weapon. As he stepped in to block her path, she pivoted so that for a second his back was to her. She slammed her elbow and forearm into his shoulder blades and lower neck. He stumbled forward, his sword clattering away out of his grasp. She didn't give him time to regain his balance, slamming into him with her entire body weight and the not insignificant added weight of her dress. He fell, face first into the marble floor. His nose broke with an audible crunch. He'd probably lost teeth. Georgiana went down with him, though her fall was controlled, her weight falling on top of him and winding him again. She didn't give him a chance to catch his breath. She caught his arm, twisting it backwards and forced a knee down onto his cheek, pinning his head to the ground. He struggled, trying to break her balance and grip, but despite the inconvenience of her layered skirts his attempts didn't shift her.

She leaned down close to her prisoner's ear. "Too late."

"What are you planning to do to that man Madame Allegra?"

Georgiana looked up to see the guards had ringed the room, shutting off all exits and separating the crowd from the bloody scene Georgiana found herself in the middle of. There had been two dozen assassins in total, but only four had made it to Georgiana, guardsmen and guests alike cutting them down. Of the four who had reached her, three were dead. Ibrahim's badge of office, a ceremonial dagger with a bloodstone blade and a ruby encrusted hilt, was buried in the back of the middle-aged man, which explained his disappearance. She had killed the second attacker; he lay in a pool of his own blood, unmoving, eyes no longer taunting. The girl had impaled herself. Two others were still living, being restrained by guards. In front of her stood Johanna, Iman and Zahra only a pace behind. The three most important people in Andala had their attention focused solely on Georgiana.

This is part one of ‘Unmasking’ the first installment of ‘The Dagasi Saga.’ The entirety of ‘Unmasking is available for free on webnovel, and the second installment ‘Anathema’ is available for 0.99cents USD on Amazon. If you don’t want to pay don’t worry! Everything will be released on webnovel, it will just take more time. If you don’t want to wait, Amazon is the way. 

Webnovel

Amazon

[natt-the-kitty-cat]

The Storm

Okay so I have been absolutely in love with a certain someone’s mermaid AU since it was first created, but after her post about it I just couldn’t help myself!!

So, here is a little gift for @thestarrynightgazer

Hope you like it, Kat~ (Mind my spelling and grammar errors it is not proof read)

- 

Damn it. That was all he could think. Damn it all. Of course going outside the safety of the reef during the biggest storm of the year had been a stupid idea; why had he ever believed otherwise? Oh yeah, that’s right. He had wanted to prove his brother wrong. Meliodas was always so overprotective of him, never let him do anything on his own. He had never even swam outside the last ring of corals without him. But today he had had enough, and somehow he had gotten it into his mind that the best way to show he was capable to make it in his own was to swim outside their protected home and collect the materials they needed for their next project. He had been so sure he’d make it back in time before the storm, or that he could at the very least be able to out maneuver the currents to make it back home in time. But joke was on him, he had ended up making the biggest mistake of his life. The currents was far too strong for him. No matter how much he swam and fought against it, he only seemed to get further and further away from the reef. He had since long given up on trying to bring back the seashells they had been looking for for so long in favor of just trying to get home, but even that he was failing at. Oh how much he’d give to be with his brother again, safe within the protective walls of the corals and plants growing around them. But no, instead he was here; fighting for his life not to get swept away.

He squinted his eyes, trying to make out his surroundings in the dark waters but could see nothing. All he could see was black all around him, along with the feel of the cold water engulfing his entire body; making it go numb. He could no longer tell if his tail was moving or not, the only thing on his mind being the absolute exhaustion he felt. Maybe if he could just close his eyes for a few seconds….. No. If he did that the streams would sweep him away and then he might never find his way back home again. He slapped his own cheek, trying to hit some sense into himself.

“Come on, you have to do this” He told himself, shaking his head to try and bring more clarity to his foggy mind. “You have to! Otherwise you’ll never see the others again!” The thought hurt. To never be able to see his friends again…? To never be able to hug Meliodas again..? Even if he thought his brother was absolutely insufferable at times, he still loved him… Because he was the only family he had left. Come on now Zeldris, get yourself together! You just have to- He inhaled sharply as the pain washed over him in waves. He flailed his arms, feeling the current starting to sweep him away as he could no longer move his tail. He winced  as he could taste the blood around him; panic suddenly clouding his mind. Oh no. This was bad. He was bleeding…. A lot. He moved his hands down over his lower body, letting out a muffled noise as his fingers moved over his lower rib cage where his skin was cut open. He bit his lip, taking a deep breath before pressing his hands over it. He had to stop the bleeding, or else it might attack sharks of other predators to him, which would be and absolute catastrophe. He let out a string of curses as he desperately tried to get himself in the right direction, to try and swim home again. But he was spinning around so quickly that he could no longer even tell what was up and down.

“No no no, please!!” He pleaded, turning and spinning in a useless attempt to get it to stop. “Meliodas! Please help me!!” His shout echoed through the empty waters around him, but received no response. He could feel the burning in his eyes again - it’s what the humans called ‘tears’ he had learnt - but could do nothing as he was brought further and further away from his home.

“Anyone!! Hel-” His sentence was cut short as the pain shot through his head, before everything stopped.

Arthur lazily kicked the small stones on the ground in front of him, walking along the beach by himself. All he could hear was the waves gently hitting the rocks and sand around him, occasionally splashing up enough to reach him where he was. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head as his eyes trailed along the edges of his little island. His mentor had left him here a few weeks ago, intending to keep him safe from all the chaos on the mainland. She had been kind enough to provide him with a nice house and more than enough food and servants to keep him happy. However, being the young and energetic man he was, Arthur was already bored out of his mind. Earlier this morning he had snuck out of the large mansion and down to the beach, going to search for interesting or peculier things that might have washed ashore during the storm that had raged on all night. This far he had only found large tree logs, seaweed and some cloths here and there, but nothing that really caught his attention all too much.

That is until he heard a strange sound coming from just beyond the cliffs at the far end of the shore.

Shit. That was far too close. Zeldris bit his lip as he shifted in the shallow water, his back scratching painfully against the rock behind him. He had never seen a human this close before, and he was honestly caught off guard by it. He looked very young, with bright orange hair that seemed so extremely fluffy that Zeldris had forgot to breathe for a second. He put his hand over his mouth, trying to slow down his jagged breathing where he sat. It was rare for him to be up at the surface, but he had no choice this time. He was currently stuck in an extremely shallow pool of water, and it did not seem like he was getting out of there anytime soon. The storm must have washed him up here. Judging from how the sun stood, Zeldris quickly drew the conclusion that the high tides were already on their way out; which meant his little tiny water puddle would very soon be dry land. Which also meant that he’d be even more stuck than he already was, though it also brought the risk of him getting dried out and potentially….. dying. He internally cursed himself again. Why had he done this. It had been so stupid. Why couldn’t he just listen to his brother for once!? He tried turning where he sat, wanting to get out of this miserable spot as soon as possible, when he felt a sharp pain over his lower rib cage again. He winced, hand flying down over the place the pain was radiating from. It was almost so that he did not dare look, afraid if what he would see if he did. After taking a few unsteady and panicked breaths - not being used to breathing air - he finally managed to direct his eyes down to examine the wound. He could feel himself let out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding as the would proved to be much less serious than he had initially thought. It was bleeding yes, and it also hurt like all hell. But it didn’t seem to be anything deadly. The worst thing that could happen was that he could get a scar. He shook his head, placing his hand back over the cut in his skin to stop more blood from flowing out. That’s when he heard the noise. It was footsteps; the sound of bare feet scraping against gravel. Oh god no, this isn’t happening. Zeldris watched in horror mixed terror as some of the bushes next to him were pushed away; revealing the ginger haired human from earlier staring at him with wide eyes.

“No way….”

He knew that Merlin always told him to stay out of trouble, and to not go and investigate possible dangerous things on his own. However, Arthur was also very very bad at actually following the instructions she gave him, as his curiosity tended to always get the better of him. So that was how he had quickly found himself carefully sneaking over to the source of the weird noise. Walking over, he didn’t really know what he had expected. But as he stood here, jaw dropped to the floor as his gaze was locked on the creature in front of him, this was really beyond his expectations. He had heard many sailors tell tales of mermaids swimming through the ocean, however he had never for a moment stopped to consider if it might be true. And he desperately wanted to cling onto that little piece of logic he had always seen in the world, that no such fairy tale creatures existed. Yet he could not deny the fact that the mermaid in front of him was real. He gulped a little, blinking several times before he trusted that his eyes were not fooling him. He let his gaze wander over the clearly terrified mermaid in front of him, and he could quickly conclude several things. The stories were not overstated, there creatures really had an out of this world beauty to them. Everything about him seemed so…. extraordinary. Those deep green eyes, his raven black hair and that long, green tail that looked to be made of pure emerald as it glittered in the sunlight. The third thing he noticed, which his brain seemed to have somehow skipped over at first, was the fact that this wasn’t really a mermaid, but more of a merman. And the last thing he saw was that he was hurt. His hand covered up the wound itself, pressed over it almost painfully hard it seemed, however the blood was still dripping down on the ground. Without really thinking, Arthur immediately went to try and help him cover it up, to stop any more serious infections while it was still possible. But as soon as he moved, the boy in front of him seemed to panic and tried to move away from him. However, the pool of water he was in was far too small for him to get anywhere. He was stuck.

“No no no wait!” Arthur said, holding out his hands to try and get him to calm down. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to help you with your wound!” He was met by a sceptical look on his face, his green eyes still colored with terror.

“Can you understand what I’m saying” He continued, sitting down next to the little puddle. “Do you have a name..?” Silence spread between the two of them, the sound of the waves crashing into the stones around them being the only thing that could be heard.

“M-my name is Zeldris” Arthur's eyes widened in surprise when he heard his voice. It was so…. Alluring. It had this strange softness to it, like the ocean waves on a calm day, yet it still had somewhat of a sharp edge to the tone.

“I’m Arthur” He smiled at him, reaching out his hand for a shake, however Zeldris just gave it a strange look. Okay, humans and mermaids do not have the same customs. He made a mental note to remember that in the future, might prove to be useful.

“So… You said you wanted to help” Zeldris mumbled, looking up at him though his dark bangs, still seeming somewhat sceptical.

“Yes, I want to help you clean that wound. It looks like it might end up getting infected if not treated soon” He explained, pointing to the blood that was still dripping down on the ground. Zeldris looked down at it, seemingly considering his options for a moment.

“What do you gain out of helping me? What do you expect in return?” He questioned, voice suddenly much sharper than before.

“I…. I don’t expect anything” Arthur managed out, shocked and confused with his surprising reaction. “I merely wish to treat you. That’s how I was raised…. I was always taught to offer help to those in need” The merman eyed him up and down, squinting his eyes as if it would somehow help him see through a non existing facade.

“Fine, I’ll.. I’ll accept your help” He finally sighed, shoulders dropping down as he relaxed from the tensed up posture he had held for several minutes.

“Good” Arthur smiled, feeling proud of himself for convincing him to accept his help. “Stay here and I’ll be right back! I just need to run and gather some things so I can give you proper care!” He stood up again, feeling somewhat dizzy from the sudden drop of blood pressure. However he easily shook it off and started to head back to the mansion.

“W-wait!!” Zeldris called out, reaching out a hand towards him to somehow get him to stop. And he did. He looked back at the merman with a confused expression, tilting his head slightly.

“What is it?”

“Y-you can’t tell anyone that I’m here…” He said, redirecting his gaze away from him. “Please?”

“Of course. You have my word that no one shall find out you’re here” Arthur promised before quickly turning around and running back up the long hill towards the house.

Zeldris was still shaking slightly even as the human was gone. Uh oh, this is bad. Meliodas had always warned him of humans. They were the rulers of the surface world; selfish and ruthless creatures that just destroyed and took as they saw fit. Many parts of their home had been completely ruined by their inventions in the search for food. According to his brother, the human race had lost all their sense of balance many thousands of years ago, abandoning the sacred ways of giving back just as much as you take from the world. Zeldris had seen them on their ships, fighting and killing even each other without even batting an eye. It had been a horrific scene. After that, he had sworn to never ever speak to a human, yet here he were. His survival now depended on this young human man with violet eyes and fiery hair. Arthur. It was a name he had never heard before. To his ears it sounded strange, yet still beautiful. I like it. He sighed for himself, looking up at the bright blue sky. Wonder how I’ll find my way back…. I must be far far away from home. Maybe he could possibly ask that human, Arthur, if he had any idea where they were. Though on the other hand, humans and mermaids probably don’t use the same names on things. He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. He had to figure this out…. But for now, he would just rest. He could sort things out later, when he wasn’t half bleeding to death. Yes, that was a good idea…. That’s what he’ll do.

[chibinightowl]

Roll the Dice

Prompt:

I am a dragon who collects pretty things, you're a kind local game shop owner who always shows me the prettiest dice when I come in and I'm not sure if you're staring at me because you can see through my glamour AU.

Because I just HAD to post something today. Jason’s been going through a lot of crap in the comics recently, so our boy needs some love today! Happy Birthday, Jason! Beta read by @comicroute

~*~*~

The little set of bells over the door jingled as a customer walked into the small shop. Jason barely glanced up from his book, a pencil in hand as he underlined sentences and scribbled in the margins. “Welcome,” he said by rote, barely glancing at the dark haired young man who’d just entered. Classes may have just ended for the summer, but the life of a literature graduate student was never ending. Too many books, not enough time.

Luckily the owner of the game shop didn’t mind if he read on the clock, not as long as everything was clean and where it belonged. Weekdays were slow as hell while the weekends could be described as a Category 5 hurricane. Thank god he only had to close because if there was one thing Jason hated, it was dealing with people. The worst of the chaos was over and long gone by this time his shift started, leaving only the most dedicated of RPG gamers at the table in the back of the store.

Those guys he could deal with. They were polite and always took the hint that when Jason started taking out the trash it was time for them to leave.

The customer stopped right in front of the counter Jason sat behind and knelt, staring intently at the dice that were kept there along with some of the more collectible items the owner sold. He lowered his book and waited, wondering which dice he’d be asked to take out for closer inspection. The man was mostly hidden in front of the counter, but his horns rose up high enough for Jason to see clearly.

Wait, what? Horns?

This was a game shop so Jason was used to seeing some odd characters, and considered himself an oddity as well, but horns were something new. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he was seeing things clearly.

Yep. Those were horns. Not those costume horns that some of the cosplayers wore when they game in for an event either, or even the plastic ones that one of the regular gamers wore on their headbands.

These were honest to god horns, rising right up out of the man’s mop of black hair knelt in front of the display case. Jason could hear him cooing over the dice, muttering something about pretty shinies.

“Uh, can I help you with something?” he asked, leaning over slightly to get a better look. It wasn’t often that his second sight kicked in like this. The last time it did, it was because of the nest of pixies that had started roosting in the stairwell leading up to the roof of his cheap apartment building. They loved the milk Jason left for them and gave him gifts of little stones and coins they found out on the streets.

The coins were useful; the rocks, not so much.

A pair of icy blue eyes glanced up at Jason, pupils slit like a cat’s. “Sorry, I always get distracted by the dice when I come to shops like these,” the horned man said, standing upright. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“You new to the area then?” Jason asked. “I haven’t seen you in here before. Unless you’re a weekender…”

The man nodded, his horns bobbing easily despite the added weight on his slender neck. “New to Gotham, actually. I’ll be starting at Gotham University as an adjunct professor for the fall semester.”

“That’s almost three months away,” Jason said, eyeing the man closely. What was he? He seemed friendly enough, even personable, which was just all kinds of off for the supernatural creatures that made Gotham their home. “Besides, you look a bit young to be a professor.”

Sharp fangs glistened under the fluorescent lights as the man grinned. “I hear that all the time. Trust me when I say I’m older than I look.”

Jason tried not to stare, which was really hard because chances were likely this was a being who could eat him and not blink an eye over it. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said instead and gestured to the case. “Is there anything in here I can take out for you?”

The horned man’s gaze dropped to the case, then flickered back up to Jason. “Yes, actually there is. Those teal dice, can I get a better look at them?”

~*~*~

Tim wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the young man from the game shop he’d wandered into after settling into the old brownstone that he’d rented for his time in Gotham. One thing he did know was that buying those teal dice had been a no brainer after he got a good look at the other man’s eyes.

Those were eyes that saw much more than they let on. And if the slightly elevated heart rate and the startled scent that tickled his nose were right, then he’d seen right through Tim’s glamour.

A glamour that had been carefully crafted and honed to protect him in the human world for more than three centuries. Even amongst the Fae, a dragon stood out.

So the fact that a human saw him for who he was made him curious. Very curious. It was entirely possible the man didn’t know he was Fae-touched. Which, considering the shock of white hair on his brow, was surprising.

The next week, he went back to the shop to get a closer look at the interesting human. And, just like before, Tim found himself distracted by all the colorful dice in the display case. This happened to him every single time he walked into a game store. It didn’t matter that these were just pieces of resin and plastic, hardly anything a dragon of his caliber should notice. The shine, glitter, and glimmering colors made his fingers itch and his hoarding instincts rise to the surface.

He had plenty of dice and game pieces in his hoard, many of which he’d even carved himself and, with a little bit of magic, melted his scales around to create a rich, shimmery blue that reminded him of the ocean meeting the evening sky. Those were priceless.

These little pieces of plastic were not.

But the colors…ruby reds that glinted with gold, sea green melded together with the emerald of a forest, blacks shot through with silver. If the smaller dice were bad, then the larger 20-sided dice were the worst. Tim spotted a new one he hadn’t seen last week, a teal colored one that perfectly matched the odd human’s eyes.

He had to have it.

“You must really like dice,” the human said, interrupting Tim’s covetous thoughts.

Looking up, Tim saw the young man was leaning over the counter to watch him, a smirk teasing the corners of his lips. He swallowed hard, staring into those vibrant eyes that were so out of place on a mere mortal. What was he?

“I like the colors,” Tim admitted as he stood to gaze at the human on more level ground. “The palettes have changed so much since I first started playing.”

A dragon who played Warlocks and Wizards. What was this world coming to?

“Never played myself, but you’re hardly the first person to wander in here and get distracted by them. Although I think you’re the first one I’ve heard call them shinies.”

Tim bit his lip and tried not to laugh. “How can you work in a place like this and not play?”

The young man shrugged his broad shoulders. “I started working here as a favor to the owner when I was about 18. He was having problems with some of the kids stealing things and since I’m a former thief, he thought I might be able to scare the crap out of them.”

“How does that logic work?” Tim couldn’t help asking. “I understand the whole ‘takes a thief to catch a thief’, but the rest?”

“He’s known me for almost a decade now. If I spotted some asshole putting something they hadn’t paid for in their pockets, I’d just pick it right back out before they left. Besides, I have no interest in any of the stuff here and the boss knows it. I think it’s all crap for people with too much money and time on their hands.”

Tim let himself laugh at the clearly disgusted expression on the human’s face. “I might be willing to argue that point, but since I’m about to drop some more money in here, that defeats the purpose.”

“Whatever rocks your world,” the human replied, his smirk morphing into a brief grin that did incredible things to his eyes. Tim wanted to fall into them and explore their depths.

Not yet, though. He needed to assess and strategize first, as well as find out some more information about this intriguing person. For that, he needed his name.

“I can think of a lot of things that do,” Tim said easily and pointed at the large 20-sided dice. “Like that. I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.”

His current pseudonym rolled off his tongue. Ironically, it was closer to his real name than any of the other names he’d gone by over the centuries.

The human unlocked the case and offered him a crooked half smile as he knelt to retrieve the dice. “Jason Todd.”

How did that saying go? Oh, yes. Bingo.

~*~*~

Jason didn’t see Tim again until the following week when he wandered in on a Thursday night about twenty minutes before closing time. It would be a big fat lie to say he hadn’t been thinking about the man off and on over the last week. The horns and slitted blue eyes captured his attention like nothing else, making Jason switch up his usual reading material to tackle Spenser’s The Faerie Queen. It seemed appropriate, even if epic poetry gave him a headache.

He kind of wished there was a bestiary that was actually accurate for the supernatural. By all rights, Tim looked like some kind of demon, but he didn’t feel inherently evil or dark. That and he’d first come into the shop in the middle of the day, so there went the Dark Fae idea he’d tossed around and quickly rejected. His sight was more than just vision, but intuition too, which came in handy when he lived on the streets.

“Hello, Jason,” Tim said as he entered. “You’re always here when I come in. Don’t you ever get a day off?”

Jason set aside his book and nervously fiddled with his glasses. Small talk? Really? “I try and pick up as many hours as I can in the summer between school terms. Makes the owner happy since he doesn’t have to hire anyone else.”

“It must pick up quite a bit, what with everyone out for the summer. Do you guys host any of those card games the kids seem to like?”

This was so surreal. Jason nodded and pointed toward the right of the door at all the fliers that hung there. “We have those and some tabletop gaming. Wizards and Warlocks, I think?”

“Wizards and Warriors,” Tim corrected with a smile. A hint of fang peeked out from under his lip and Jason cleared his throat, looking away as something tightened in his chest.

“So, what brings you in tonight?” Jason asked, shoving aside the strange feeling. He pointedly tapped his fingers on the countertop.

Sure enough, Tim’s gaze was directed to the gaming dice and other paraphernalia in the glass display. It was rather amusing how easy it was to distract him, kind of like giving a crow something shiny.

“I’m here for a rulebook,” Tim replied after a long moment, clearly fighting the impulse to get a better look. “I don’t think I packed it.”

“Isn’t that stuff online?” Jason rose from his stool and stepped around the counter to head toward the back of the shop where all the gaming books were carefully arranged and alphabetized. Games may not be his thing, but books were books.

Tim followed after him on silent feet. “Yes, but I like having something to hold on to. The online materials make things a lot easier, I’ll admit that, but you could say I’m a bit old-fashioned.”

Jason wondered how old Tim really was. This was the second allusion he’d made to being older than he looked.

“Well, everything we have is right here, so knock yourself out. If we don’t have what you’re lookin’ for, I can order it, but it’ll probably be faster if you do it yourself.”

There was that flash of fang again as Tim picked up one of the books and started to flip through it. “Now where’s the fun in that? There’s a certain amount of joy in the hunt, in seeking out whatever it is you’re searching for.”

Jason had no words with which to reply, so he simply shrugged and walked back to the counter. The entire way, he would have sworn he felt Tim’s weighted gaze on him, but when he sat back down and picked up his own book, the other man was immersed in his own. A shiver prickled its way down his spine. He had the distinct feeling Tim had not been speaking about a book when he said he was on the hunt.

~*~*~

Tim growled and paced around his bedroom, his claws digging into the palm of his hands. What under the light was wrong with him? He’d come to Gotham to work, to find some relief from the monotonous tedium that was his life, not find himself attracted to a human with the most stunning pair of eyes he’d ever seen, even hidden as they were behind a pair of glasses that Tim was willing to bet his favorite ruby over Jason not needing in the slightest.

Eyes that he craved with every ounce of his being, whether they were lost and far away in the books Jason was reading every time he saw him or laughing in amusement at some smart comment or joke Tim made. He wanted to see their full range, hazy from sleep when Jason first woke up to bright and fiery from the passion that was stoked within.

Who was he trying to kid? He didn’t want just Jason’s eyes. No, he wanted all of him.

Jason Todd was a mystery and Tim was never one to pass up a good puzzle.

Armed with his name, Tim started his search. It didn’t take very long, not with his computer skills. He was definitely an oddity amongst the Fae for even using human technology, but it’s not like a computer could hurt him. He found Jason’s juvenile records first, the ones that placed him in a detention center for a few years because of his sticky fingers. Apparently they were necessary too, because his home life had been less than ideal. It consisted of a father who was never around and then later killed in prison and a mother who wasn’t actually his mother, according to the birth certificate Tim unearthed.

His real mother’s name was known to Tim. It was a name he did not like at all, not after what she’d done to betray the earthbound Fae to a fiend known only as the Joker. The thought briefly crossed his mind to use Jason to get his revenge on her, but he shunted it aside as pointless. Sheila Haywood was slowly wasting away, drooling and mindless, in an asylum outside of Liverpool.

How she came to have a child though, that intrigued Tim more. Jason was clearly abandoned by her and left to be raised by humans, unaware of the gifts that were in his blood, wild talents that waited only for the right time to manifest themselves.

So this was where Tim found himself, pacing and trying to figure out what to do. Did he give in to his baser instincts and simply lay claim to Jason, dragging him across an ocean to his primary residence in Scotland? Or did he do this the human way and properly court the man, slowly and carefully revealing only that which Tim wanted him to know until the time came for Jason to become his?

Tim fell back on his overly plush bed and draped an arm over his eyes. Dramatic, yes, but he was feeling it at the moment. He didn’t really have much of a choice in this, not if he wanted Jason to come to him willingly. Which was going to be hard because the human was more interested in his books than the dragon. There was a quaint human phrase that Tim heard bandied about rather often these days and he thought it rather appropriate to his circumstances.

This sucked.

~*~*~

Jason could often be said to have his head stuck in the clouds considering all the time he spent reading, but he was a Gotham street-rat born and bred, and that meant he was paranoid as hell about his surroundings at any given time, even tucked away in a relatively safe place like the game shop. So he couldn’t help but notice that, week after week, he saw more and more of Tim.

Not that this was a bad thing, because he still didn’t know exactly what the man was, and it kept his mind engaged as he tried to puzzle it out. The long, curled horns were as black as Tim’s hair, matte while his hair shone like a raven’s wing. Delicately pointed ears made Jason think elf, but he’d never read of an elf with horns before, or sharp white fangs and black claws that matched the horns. Honestly though, it was Tim’s pale blue eyes that had him the most curious.

What did he see when he looked at Jason?

A poor, not-quite-starving graduate student, that’s what. Jason shoved aside the thoughts of Tim seeing him as anything other than a curiosity. That’s why he had to be coming back here, right? What else was could it be since there were only so many bags of dice, rulebooks, and games the man could purchase each time he came in.

The next time Jason saw him, he was going to speak up. Call him out on this little charade that had been going on for weeks now.

Satisfied with his decision, Jason went to work. There was a bit of a rush that afternoon from a tide of incoming students who were just moving back into their dorms for the soon-to-start fall semester. It kept him busy and by the time seven o’clock came, the store was empty.

The peace and quiet didn’t last long. Jason was in the back with the gamebooks when he heard the bells over the door jingle, announcing someone entering the shop.

“Welcome,” he said, standing up straight to see who had come in. His throat suddenly became as parched as the desert as he took in the sight of Tim.

Unlike all the other times Tim had visited the shop, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, this time he wore something entirely different. Snug black pants gripped his lean waist, seemingly painted onto his lower body as they left little room for imagination. He still wore a t-shirt, but the electric blue was muted by the long sleeved mesh top he wore over it. Jason was pretty sure there were leather boots involved as well, but he was too trapped by the intense gaze Tim was giving him.

“Hello, Jason,” Tim said, greeting him as he normally did, like he wasn’t dressed up to hit some club after he left. “I’m both saddened and glad to see you’re working tonight.”

Jason tried to swallow, unable to look away as Tim stalked slowly toward him. It took him a few tries to find his voice. “Why’s that?”

Tim held up a small plastic bag that Jason had somehow overlooked. “I understand it’s your birthday. I’d hoped you would be out with friends tonight, but I will admit this works better for my plans. I brought you a treat. Hope you like it.”

Wait, what? “How did you know it’s my birthday? I didn’t even know it was.” It was not uncommon for him to forget. He didn’t have many friends around who cared enough to celebrate with him, so why bother?

“I have my sources,” Tim replied evasively. “Here.” He handed the bag to Jason, his fingers brushing Jason’s hand ever so lightly.

He shuddered slightly under the touch, so foreign and yet…welcomed at the same time. Opening the bag, Jason found a small bakery box and a candle. The bag fell to the floor as he unsealed the box, revealing what looked like a red velvet cupcake.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I hope this is to your taste,” Tim said, stooping over to pick up the bag and retrieve the candle. He stuck the end into the creamy frosting, his eyes burning with some unknown desire. “Happy birthday, Jason. Make a wish.”

Jason swallowed again, remembering his promise to himself about the next time he saw Tim. Time to roll the dice. “Got a lighter? I need to blow out the candle first.”

The smirk that appeared on Tim’s face was downright devilish as he leaned in, pursing his lips as he did. A small jet of fire erupted from between them, lighting the candle in an instant.

“I knew it,” Jason breathed. “I fucking knew it.”

The smirk grew into a pleased grin. “Just as I knew you see more than what I present to the world. But have you guessed what I really am yet?”

Jason was about to shake his head, but stopped, thinking back to the beginning of the summer when Tim first visited the shop and his complete and utter distraction with the dice in the display. He’d compared it back then to a crow and a shiny object, but really, it was more like… “A dragon,” Jason said firmly. “You’re a dragon.”

Tim’s smiled grew and there was the flash of fang that had been driving Jason nuts all summer. He cupped Jason’s hands in his own and raised the cupcake and it’s still burning candle higher. “I am. Does this bother you?”

Far from it. Jason now realized what the tightening in his stomach was each time he saw Tim. It was desire. Finally, he had met someone who was just as odd as him. Odder, even, because those horns were front and center as Tim tilted his head back ever so slightly to watch him. “Not in the slightest,” he replied.

“Good. Now make a wish, Jason. Don’t tell me what it is because I want to spend the rest of your life trying to figure it out.”

[overandbeyond724]

Silvaze Week 2018 Day 3: Red Thread of Fate/Tanabata

(I got this from watching an old anime movie, Is this canonically sound???)

“Aaah! Today is a wonderful day, yes?”

“You’re right Miss Amy!”

“Chao! Chao!”

Blaze quietly sat in her seat, watching her three friends Cream, Amy, and Cheese happily enjoying their sundaes here at a local café in Station Square, before looking bluntly at her own giant vanilla soft served ice cream drizzled with chocolate syrup and a strawberry perfectly placed on top.

She almost wondered why Amy and Cream loved it so much she could almost see sparkles and bubbles around them each time they took a scoop.

And why are they acting like nothing happened.

“Miss Blaze, are you alright?” Cream noticed her silence, turning the group’s attention to the inter-dimensional princess.

“I know you’re worried about Dr. Eggman being out and about in your dimension along with the Sol Emeralds, and we are too, but Tails needs more time to finish the portal” Amy licked her spoon clean and explained. “It wouldn’t be good for us to sit around and do nothing”, she continued, drawing circles in the air with her spoon as she spoke.

Blaze only held a stern look, and replied, “.. Sitting here wouldn’t do anything good for us either.” She didn’t intend that to sound rude, but it was the cold truth that the pink hedgehog must realize in their current situation.

The three frowned in her response, before Amy took her statement as an insult and chide her. “Hey, Cream, Cheese and I invited you to have a day out with us so you could have a chance to rest and relax, and we’re not going back until we know you are relaxed” she had a point there, these last few days, many things happened, after Dr. Eggman stole the Sol Emeralds and threw her in a another world (which is Sonic’s world but Eggman didn’t know that ;)), returning to the Sol dimension and retrieving the Sol Emeralds from the egg-shaped doctor became her main priority.

Yet she failed to realize how she made her friends worry about her.

“We were just worried about you Miss Blaze, all of us are, especially Mr. Silver”

“Chao-Chao…” Cream and Cheese sadly added, looking down to further express their good intent for the princess.

“Silver?” she quietly repeated, as though the name caught her attention.

Cream and Cheese happily nodded in agreement.

“…I’m sorry, I had no intention of offending you…” Blaze instantly realized her mistake and looked down in shame apologizing

Amy shook her head, “Don’t worry about it Blaze”

“We completely understand”

“Chao! Chao!”

The three happily forgave her.

“Speaking of Silver” Amy quickly changed the subject in the speed of sound as she placed a finger on her chin, “Are you two very close?”, before leaning closer to her. Curious and intrigued of her reaction upon mentioning the hedgehog’s name

Not to mention how she noticed these two got along so easily the moment they met.

“Uh-Uhm well not that I am aware of…” Blaze instinctively leaned back to maintain her distance to the overwhelming straightforwardness of Amy Rose, even finding her a bit nosy upon asking her such question without an ounce of hesitation.

Though now that she think about it, she is far more comfortable with the white hedgehog compared to everyone else, by which she finds it quite odd.

And somehow, comforting at the same time

“Oh is that so…”Amy returned to her seat and smiled at the conclusion in her mind, “Then it must be destiny!” she remarked with a closed eyed smile, along with the tan rabbit and her chao agreeing with her.

Blaze couldn’t quite understand these girls’ logic as she seemed stunned in her expression. Why would fate let their paths meet anyway? What could that even do for her? She wanted answers to the questions she is unable to provide answers to herself, but she was interrupted by Amy’s distress.

She immediately then decided to keep it to herself.

“Haaaaahhh! Look at the time!” Amy hurriedly emptied her glass and picked the strawberry she’s been saving for last at the bottom. “We’re going to miss it!” she almost jumped in her seat, causing a few people to turn their heads towards her from the commotion, and grabbed the confused Blaze’s hand.

Dragging her across the streets of the city, the four reached a small park nearby the café.

There was a small stage placed at the center of the lot lined with foldable chairs made of plastic and resin, where people from all ages chattering around the outdoor theater, as though they were waiting for something.

“What are we doing here?” Blaze looked around, puzzled on how this is going to relax her, when she noticed posters hung at the park’s lamp posts. She began to read: ‘Toto Theater Group Presents: The Legend of the Red Thread’

This sparked interest on the purple cat, lightly tilting her head to her curiosity. “The Legend of…the Red Thread?”

“Oh you never heard of it?” Amy heard her and glanced across Blaze, “It is a story about a man and a woman whose pinkies are connected by a red thread of destiny since birth!” she exclaimed, lifting both of her pinkies before holding her fists together as she girlishly explained the legend’s lore, her deep green eyes had the sparkling glitter that shone whenever such matters are discussed.

“And they’re going to perform it on a play for the upcoming festival Miss Blaze” Cream continued in place for her blushing best friend drifting away in La La land.

“A festival?”

Cream lively nodded, “Momma told me this festival is very important for two people who can only meet once a year!” – “Chao!” she innocently explained, sending Blaze in thought. She’s been here in this world a few times already and realized she barely knew anything about this world.

But who could blame her for not knowing anyway? It’s not like she’s here on vacation.

“Hmm? Silver!!” Amy, after pulling herself back to reality, she cheerfully waved at the crowd, drawing the attention of a light grey hedgehog mixed-in to the fray and excitedly raced towards him together with Cream and Cheese, with Blaze following closely behind, and found it unexpected to find the white hedgehog from the future in this lively, populated setting.

“I’m so glad you came!” Amy beamed in joy as soon as her feet halted on the dirt

“Where’s Mr. Sonic?” Cream followed, already beating Amy upon asking such question

“Ah about that Sonic decided to pass this up and wanted us to watch it without him, he said it’s-uhm…too girly…” he explained, shrugging at the end.

Cream and Cheese frowned, disheartened at the fact that the blue blur can’t come with them today.

“Hmph! He always says that” and Amy grumpily puffed out a cheek in frustration

“But I am surprised, that you didn’t think the same thing as Sonic…” Blaze casually commented whereas Silver only blinked in his bewilderment, not expecting the comment from the lilac colored cat.

“Ah well, I always wanted to watch a play from this time, it’s interesting to learn more about my history” he replied, scratching the back of his head when the sea of people then started applauding the announcer climbing up to the stage, cuing that the play is about to start and took their seats at the front row.

The play ran until the late afternoon, and just like what the blue blur said, it was a bit girly and maybe even ridiculous at some point: an invisible, red string that is connected to your true love? Sounds more like a fairy tale rather than a legend.

But either way, the was indeed relaxing, heartwarming and endearing, kudos the effort and hard work the group put onto even if they are performing for free.

“Hmm, maybe we should eat somewhere before heading home…” Amy thought as they made their way home

Cream agreed, “Momma told me there is a good restaurant nearby and are serving free desserts for the festival, we should check it out!”

“That’s a great idea!” Amy chimed before looming over her shoulder to address the cat and hedgehog behind them, rendering a playful gaze at them.

“Hmm? You’re wondering who is at the other end of the thread aren’t you?”

Blaze jolted up in surprise, not realizing she had her pinky up the whole time and quickly hid it away.

But she then realized Amy wasn’t referring to her, but to the flustered white hedgehog in front of her.

Silver faintly flushed in embarrassment, “Uh-Uhm I am just intrigued that’s all, not a lot of people in the future believe in legends anymore other than being just a story –”

“What? Legends are true!” Amy exclaimed, and skipped a step, blocking the rest of the group in their path and placed her hands in her hips. “And I’m not speaking rhetorically here, they are called as one because they are more than just a story, but they tell us a lesson from the past.” she pointed out in conviction, subtly rubbing her own pinky as her determined and powerful expression softened.

“Miss Amy…”

“Chao…” Cream and Cheese empathized, holding their fists together with a gloomy expression painted in their faces.

Amy spun, before placing her hands behind her back and added, “Well, whether you believe it or not is only a matter of choice” she smiled at them, and called Cream to lead them to that restaurant and sped ahead of them.

With Silver and Blaze following behind the two ladies

“So, do you believe? In the invisible red thread of destiny…” Blaze started within the first moments of silence between them, as though it interested her to learn his opinion for some reason.

“Hmm? Well…who knows” he once again had the same reaction as he glanced at her, before sending off into deep thought and nonchalantly replied.

She chuckled, leaving Silver stunned in hearing Blaze’s laugh.

For the first time…

And also at the same time, confused on her response

“W-Why? What’s wrong?” he only stammered

Blaze closed her eyes as she walked ahead of him, obvious that she knew the light grey hedgehog has something else in mind and was so sure of it too, even if she only met him a few times. “Nothing”

“There’s nothing wrong with it” she lightly waved her pinky in the air, “After all, believing is only a matter of choice…”

[littlerose13writes]

Lightbulbs by LittleRose13

Day 4, The 12 Days of Shipmas - Wrapping presents🛍

In which Scorpius regrets opening the mulled wine before all the presents are wrapped. 

Words: 1,936 Pairings: Scorpius/Albus

20th December, 2027

The Potter/Malfoy’s living room was decorated beautifully for Christmas. Garlands of holly lay across the wooden mantelpiece, studded with crimson berries and frosted with glistening snowflakes. Pale gold fairies nested amongst the leaves, glittering and twinkling.

Even though they would only be spending Christmas morning in their apartment, there was a large and generously decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room which also housed iridescent, live fairies. Beneath the impeccable tree, the chaos started with an unwieldy pile of unwrapped presents in front of which Albus was sitting.

Spread all around him were several rolls of wrapping paper, three automatic spellotape dispensers, various bows and decorations, ribbon in every colour, a large, half-empty glass of mulled wine and a pair of scissors, which Albus kept misplacing and loudly asking Scorpius “where the fuck are the fucking scissors?” despite him having sat on them every single time.

Scorpius sat demurely on the floor behind Albus, leaning on the coffee table with his own glass of wine and using his best peacock feather quill to fill in Christmas cards and gift tags for all of their family and friends. The system was supposed to be that Albus selected a present from under the tree, told Scorpius what he’d picked up, wrapped it up while Scorpius wrote the matching card then the two were united and placed in the ‘finished’ pile.

The trouble was that Scorpius was taking much longer to fill in the cards as neatly as possible than Albus was taking to wrap the presents. After sitting around waiting for ten minutes before he could start wrapping the second present - and going overboard on the decoration on Lily’s present in the meantime - Albus abandoned Scorpius’ system and just started wrapping any present he could see.

“Who’s this one for?” Scorpius asked his fiancé, holding up a cylindrical present wrapped in golden paper patterned with stars and a sprig of real holly (taken from the mantelpiece) spellotaped haphazardly to the front.

Albus considered the gift in question for a second, his head on one side.

“It’s either a box of lightbulbs for Grandad Arthur or one of those floating bath candle things for Aunt Angie.”

“Well, which?” Scorpius was poised with his quill hovered over a blank card.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the candle,” Albus guessed randomly, having no idea.

Scorpius looked at him suspiciously for a second before gently shaking the present. “That didn’t help me.”

“It’s for Aunt Angie, I’m sure.”

“Well, if she asks me why we gave her lightbulbs for Christmas-”

“You can blame it on me.” Albus smiled and reached back into the gift pile for another present to wrap. He selected one and held it up suspiciously. “We bought someone a sieve for Christmas?”

“It’s an art installation for Dad.” Scorpius sighed, took it from Albus and turned it the other way around, placing it back on the coffee table. “You were there when I bought it.”

“I was?”

“Yes. You said the gallery was pretentious and only agreed to come in if I promised to buy you an ice-cream from Fortescue’s.”

“I did?”

“You had gingerbread flavour with chocolate sauce.”

“Oh yeah, that ice-cream!”

Scorpius rolled his eyes fondly at his fiancé.

“How exactly do you expect me to wrap this?” Albus picked up the sieve/art installation again, turning it around and considering the obscure shape.

“Oh, just as neatly as you have all the other presents,” Scorpius muttered, finishing the gift tag he was writing with a flourish.

“Scor, I offered to write the cards instead and let you do the wrapping.”

“You were just going to write Merry Christmas from Scorpius and Albus once then charm it onto every tag.”

“That is exactly what I was going to do. Then I was going to distract you from wrapping the presents. Why does it matter what the tags say? Nobody reads them anyway.”

“I do!” said Scorpius, affronted. “I’m writing a personalised pun in everyone’s card, it’s really quite enjoyable.”

Albus shrugged and cast the art installation aside, opting instead for a rectangular box which contained a pair of adorably tiny shoes for one of Teddy’s twins. He was already bored with wrapping presents and it was only because of Scorpius’ insistence that they sit down and do this together that he was even still doing it.

Opening the box to look at the shoes, Albus placed his first and middle fingers into a shoe each, making them ‘walk’ across the table and stop at Scorpius’ writing arm. The shoes gently tapped their way up Scorpius’ arm and over the back of his neck, then round to underneath his chin.

“Albus!” Scorpius complained and put his quill down. He looked down at where Albus was still waving the baby shoes around under his nose and grinned up at his fiancé. Albus’ arm had ended up wrapped around Scorpius’ shoulders and he snuggled into him.

“You can’t be cross with these tiny things can you?” Albus made the tiny shoes dance around in front of Scorpius’ face, until one fell off and landed on the floor.

“I don’t know why we bought the twins shoes. Those girls have been barefoot every time I’ve ever seen them.” He picked the fallen shoe up and reunited it with its pair.

“That’s what happens when you live by the beach and do toddler yoga every morning,” Albus explained with an eye roll as he replaced the shoes into their box.

Scorpius watched him. “How many presents left to wrap?”

“I don’t know, like a hundred.” Albus scooted back over to his fiancé with a sulky expression.

Scorpius frowned. “We don’t know that many people.”

“Whatever, I’m bored of wrapping. Can we finish the rest with magic and go to bed?” He nibbled Scorpius’ earlobe.

“No! We’re wrapping them by hand, I want to start a tradition.”

“Actually Scor, I’m wrapping them by hand.” He picked up one of his first attempts, where the automatic spellotape dispenser had proved to be a bit too exciting. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“It can’t be that difficult without magic? Let me have a go.”

“Okay fine, you’re on.” Albus reached into the present pile and picked out the matching shoebox for Teddy’s other twin. He placed it in front of Scorpius and added a roll of wrapping paper, some scissors and a spellotape dispenser. “Best wrapped present wins.”

Scorpius raised one eyebrow. “Wins what?”

Albus paused for a second, then wriggled closer to Scorpius to whisper in his ear. “If you win, I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue.”

Scorpius’ eyes widened and he smirked. “And if you win?”

“You tell me,” Albus challenged.

“If you win, I promise to marry you next year.” Scorpius smiled angelically.

“Isn’t that literally what this means?” Albus grabbed Scorpius’ left hand and span his engagement ring around, before interlinking their fingers.

“It’s subject to demonstration of present wrapping abilities I’m afraid,” Scorpius said, squeezing Albus’ hand.

“Damn, I suppose we’ll have to cancel the venue then.” Albus kissed Scorpius.

“That thing you do with your tongue is rather a good prize,” Scorpius wiggled his eyebrows, their faces inches apart.

“A better prize than marrying me?” Albus bit his lip.

Scorpius closed the gap between them and simply kissed him in response. Albus smirked and pulled away from him, pushing the second shoebox closer to his fiancé and grabbing his own.

They sat with their backs to each other, each wrapping a separate shoe box. Albus cut the wrapping paper as precisely as he would have done a shrivelfig in potion making and tried to fold every corner accurately. He wasn’t too liberal with the spellotape and he even added a red ribbon to coordinate with the emerald green paper (the holly leaves seemed a bit hazardous to hand to a two year old). He wrote Pippa on a gift tag in his neatest handwriting and tied it to the ribbon with a slightly lopsided bow. Overall, he was rather proud of his attempt; it was certainly his best one so far.

“Have you finished yet?” said Scorpius impatiently from behind him.

“Yep, prepare to be amazed.” Albus turned, holding his nicely wrapped present in both hands and met Scorpius’ eyes.

“Ta-da!” Scorpius sang, holding his own wrapped shoebox out.

Albus looked down at Scorpius’ own wrapped gift. “What the fuck, Scor?”

Scorpius flinched and gazed at him with wide, grey eyes. His box was wrapped impeccably with scarlet paper, every corner crisp and even. Silver ribbon circled the middle of the box neatly and a large and sparkly silver ribbon decoration sat in the middle. A wooden gingerbread man tag was tied from the ribbon with a small card attached to it. The card read This present is full of sole! Merry Christmas Clemmie, love Albus and Scorpius xxx

“You used magic!” Albus accused.

“I did not! My wand is over there.” Scorpius pointed to where his wand was on the other side of the table.

Albus eyed him suspiciously. “Well, I think it’s safe to say you’ve won. Guess we can’t get married.” He pretended to sulk and Scorpius scooted over behind him, wrapping his arms over Albus’ shoulders and whispering into his ear.

“What are you talking about, my little drama queen? You think I won’t marry you after you do that thing with your tongue?” He nuzzled into the crook of Albus’ neck.

Albus turned in his arms and pulled Scorpius into him, pressing their bodies close together and kissing him deeply. Scorpius kissed him back just as passionately until his hands were wondering, one into Albus’ dark, messy hair and one under the buttons of his shirt.

Albus stroked the exposed skin of Scorpius’ lower back where his top had risen up and Scorpius shivered involuntarily beneath his touch. He hummed with pleasure as they kissed, the vibrations of his lips sending Albus his own involuntary shivers as he continued to trail his fingertips over Scorpius’ spine in a way that was full of hidden intent, and Scorpius knew it.

He briefly pulled his face away from Albus, just long enough to smile breathlessly and Albus watched his eyes light up in that familiar way they did. Albus smirked at his fiancé as Scorpius’ fingers buried themselves deeper into his’ hair and he leaned in, almost overpowering Albus and knocking him backwards onto the floor. He shoved a hand out at the last minute to catch himself, his wrist taking the full force of his actions, but in that moment, all he could think about was how badly he needed to be kissing Scorpius again.

“Let’s do the rest by magic,” Scorpius said hurriedly, leaning over and grabbing Albus’ wand out of his back pocket then aiming it at the present pile, a quick flick wrapping them all.

Albus broke their contact for just a second to admire Scorpius’ spellwork. “Not bad considering that wasn’t even your wand.”

Scorpius shrugged. “Hmm, the ribbon isn’t curled evenly.”

“I really couldn’t care less right now,” said Albus, pulling Scorpius to his feet and out of the room.

When Christmas Day came and the family were exchanging presents, Albus and Scorpius exchanged smirks when Harry and Ginny wondered who had wrapped each of their presents, as they were so different. One was vaguely stuck together with spellotape, and the other was perfect, almost as if it had been wrapped by magic.

[shadowsfascination]

YAAU - Chapter eleven - Breather

The foggy morning clouds that hung low into the forest of Angel Island along with the last raindrops glittering in the light of the sun that shone behind the clouds, left a fairytale like scenery on the mystical place. Rain had been coming down non-stop for the last 24 hours until it finally stopped pouring down this morning. A red echidna was sitting on the steps of a familiar staircase. He was soaked, but didn’t seem to care since he was used to it. He was the guardian of the Master Emerald and had been for a really long time. It was a job he was proud at and he felt responsible for it. “Hey there, Knuckles.” A cheerful voice resounded through the early, fresh, yet damp morning air and the echidna opened his eyes. “Good morning Toma.” “I’m sorry you had such a storm during your shift, man.” The echidna shrugged his shoulders in a laconic way. “I’ve been through worse.” The other person took in the image of Knuckles’ attitude in admiration. “Anyway: you’re off duty. You can go home and rest for a couple of days.” Knuckles rose from his position on the stairs and stretched his legs and arms since they were cramped from sitting in the same position for a long time. He felt his butt and feet tingle from the lack of a decent blood circulation, waited it bit for the feeling to come back to it and walked down the stairs while saluting his co-worker that took over. When the war against the A.R. started four years ago, a feeling of nationalism lit a spark in many Mobians’ hearts, wanting to protect their planet, their freedom and their way of living. As a result of that, a lot of Mobians started to gain interest in the history of their planet and the many legends that were connected to it and so it happened that a small group of young Mobians began to spend more time on Angel Island. At first, they were just visiting the island out of interest, but as time moved on, their interest in the floating island turned into dedication. The group eventually built some houses for themselves and settled on the island, something the guardian of the island wasn’t particularly happy about. He lectured them about this being a sacred place and told them to get off the island. The group refused to leave and told the guardian about their wish to contribute to the safety of the Master Emerald. Knuckles warded off their intention of doing so, but the members of the group continued to live there. The red echidna was about to resort to violence to make sure that they’d leave but they refused to fight him and he left them alone, hoping that they’d get bored in the end, but they turned out to have a very strong will and dedication to stay. They gradually got involved with Knuckles’ business around the Master Emerald by helping him out. In the end they gained the guardian’s trust and they proved him worthy of contributing to keeping the Master Emerald safe and they came up with a schedule that showed who was supposed to do what task around the island, including guarding the altar. And so, the hotheaded Knuckles headed to his second home on South Island to spend some time with his friends. After the hedgehogs clashed two weeks ago, things had been stable and everyone was able to breathe again. Even though, the situation left its’ scars on everybody in their own way. Sonic and Shadow had been going to individual therapy to learn to cope with the things that happened and it wasn’t easy. Both of them kept having nightmares and Sonic was impressed by how dark things could get and how vulnerable he’d felt. He had been confronted with the fact that he was perishable and it was a scary feeling. Tails had been worried about Sonic and was scared off by the fact that even Sonic could be broken. His brother, the one he looked up to in so many ways. Broken. Even now it sometimes still seemed surreal. Knuckles just kept doing his own thing but had been thinking about everything that happened the last weeks on his own, reflecting by himself as he guarded the Master Emerald. As for Shadow: there were times where he’d freeze up at someone’s touch, especially in the dark and he zoned out from time to time. He would grow tired easier than before and Amy was having nightmares herself as well about losing the ones she cherished most. On top of that there was Jayde. Or actually: there wasn’t, because she had shown very little interest in Amy during this disaster and Amy was fed up with her. Luckily she was able to spend a lot of time with her friends right now and she was happy to be with Shadow again. She looked over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of him and Sonic as they were practicing new tricks with their Chaos energy as he agreed to do so earlier, but it was proven once again that he wasn’t a patient being, something Sonic and he had in common. To be able to do this, Sonic and he had to get back their Chaos energy in the first place since it was temporarily being stored in Tails’ translucent box due to the gotten out of hand-fight. “Okay, guys. Let’s do this!” Tails stated at Sonic and Shadow through the speakers in the training room the young fox had designed several months ago. It had been his special project and he’d finished it a couple of months ago. He created a device, similar to virtual reality helmets – only he had connected the device, shaped like a chip, with their contacting devices, connected to their inhibitors. When he sent out a request to the device, the receiver would have to accept it and when they did, they were being sent into a room that Tails could redesign over and over again. This time the room was plain white and had grey walls, existing from special fibers that had the ability to ward of energy, so that the Chaos Energy would not leave this very room. “Let’s roll” Sonic added and Shadow nodded in agreement. “I’ll open the box on the count of three. We’ll have to separate the energy first. One. Two. Three.” The box opened and nothing happened, leaving Sonic somewhat confounded, Shadow ready for everything to happen and Tails suspicious. “Is this even the right box, Tails?” He asked after nothing happened in a minute or so. “Of course it is.” “Doesn’t seem like it to m-“ Suddenly the box exploded and the energy squirted around the room at high speed and they could see the mixture of red and blue Chaos Energy aimlessly flying through the room, bouncing at the walls. It gained speed with every hit on the wall and reacted to the hedgehog´s readiness to attack it by becoming more aggressive.   “Ready?” “You bet!” The hedgehogs locked eyes and nodded in agreement without phrasing their strategy as they didn’t need to and never had. They closed their eyes, lowered their heart rate, opened their palms and put pressure on them to draw in their energy, but it was reluctant to separate. It shaped itself like a ball and spindashed at them and they jumped away to avoid it. “It’s copying our attacks.” “Been there, done that. Follow my lead.” Sonic shouted at Shadow  trying to overcome the noise from the crackling, aggressive energy. Something the blue blur learnt from battling against Emerl, was that it might help if they switched while attacking it so it wouldn’t be able to copy multiple attacks at once.  Sonic jumped forward, aiming for it, with a clenched fist. “NOW!” Shadow jumped before him and kicked it into a corner, but it bounced back at him, smashing him to a corner himself. Standing up again, Shadow had enough. “Let me try something, Sonic.” “What are you thinking of?” “CHAOS CONTROL!” At that sound, time stopped and he signaled something to Sonic. They both attacked the energy, counted down from ten and made sure to touch the energy that was theirs. On the count of zero the energy was absorbed back into them with quite a shock and smashed each of them into a different corner of the room. Tails brought them back into reality and Shadow started teaching Sonic new tricks with their Chaos energy. “I’m glad it worked out in the end,” Miles stated, thinking back at how they settled things with the Chaos energy. “Totally. The odds are with us for once,” Amy added. “Not like that, faker!” Her attention was drawn to the hedgehogs again. A groan escaped the blue hedgehog’s mouth as Shadow snored at him in a fierce way. Yes, he wanted to learn those tricks Shadow pulled off before, but not like this. Shadow was getting on his nerves. “First, you step back, holding your right hand in a punching position and your left hand near your chest. Yes- then you step forward and draw the circle with the right hand and-.” “Hey there, guys!” “Do not interfere with our training.” Shadow replied abrupt to the red echidna’s greeting, who frowned and the others that were on the porch of Tail’s house, playing cards. “Hey there, Knuckles!” Sonic called. “Focus, Sonic!” “SHADOW the Hedgehog! Stop being an ass, right now!” Amy shouted at Shadow. “Hmph.” The black hedgehog folded his arms and ignored his girlfriends’ commentary- an unwise thing to do. “Mind your own business, Amy”, he added. Amy grunted at him. Sonic drew the young woman’s attention and signaled something to her which made her smile. “One more time So-“ Shadow wasn’t able to finish this sentence for he was knocked over and shoved over the ground by a powerful gust. Crawling up he looked agitated, an expression he was showing often. Amy giggled at him. “Now, how was that?” Sonic phrased in an amused way. “Very funny.” “I thought it was funny.” His girlfriend said. “Say it like you mean it.” Sonic held out a hand towards Shadow while proudly smiling at him. The black hedgehog gave him a sarcastic glance, grabbed Sonic’s hand and rose. Amy had walked towards them and wrapped her arms around Shadow from behind, who stiffened up and seemingly remained stoic at the public display of her affection. “Shall we go?” She asked him. “Go where?” “What do you mean? You were the one who wanted to take me somewhere tonight.” “Heh? Uh... Oh! Right! Let's go, Ames. Hold on to me.” She hopped onto his back and he ran off, leaving the others behind. “Where are we going?” she questioned, having to lift her voice, caught in a shout, due to the noise of the wind. “I'm not telling you! Can you close you eyes?” “Hm!” She agreed  and closed her eyes, her muzzle decorated with a smile that showed her joy of being like this. Shadow would often lift her in his arms or let her sit on his shoulders while running so fast and she enjoyed the feeling of the wind, bristling against her quills and the power that was released from his velocity- almost transcendent. There was nothing that could ever knock them down. She felt his speed slowly fade into a slower pace and he gradually came to a stop. “Can I open my eyes now?” “I was going to have you keep them closed for the entire evening with no reason.” “What?” Amy shouted, her tone decorated with awe and annoyance and she opened her eyes – the view was so stunning, it took her breath away. Countless ivory flowers covered in the silver light of the rising moon above this lake, surrounded by hills and mountains. It was amazing and she instantly forgot about the reason she opened her eyes in the first place. “It's beautiful...”

“I know.” “Thank you for bringing me here.”

[sending-the-message]

Cold feet by TheColdPeople

When I was ten, my dad moved our family from Colorado to California. It was the middle of the school year, so I struggled to make friends in my new town. By then, my peers had already secured themselves a group to hang with at lunch, and all of the cliques were sealed shut.

Then I met Max.

We fast became friends dueling Pokémon before class, and eventually spent our weekends hunting ghosts. He became my first real friend in California – and so I was crushed when he drearily informed me one afternoon that he was moving away. Max’s mom struggled with alcohol and had finally lost her job because of it. She went off to rehab and consigned her only child to his father, who lived thousands of miles away in rural Pennsylvania. Max wouldn’t even be able to finish out the school year.

We kept in touch well enough by phone and snail mail, but life just wasn’t the same anymore. At school, I spent my lunches in the library, the accursed retreat for social lepers. I walked home alone. My weekends were solitary. And my Pokémon went untested in battle.

Then one day in late summer, a letter arrived from Max, inviting me to visit him at his “haunted” house in the Pennsylvanian woods. I was ecstatic. I begged my parents for weeks, but they were hesitant to allow the journey. Eventually, Mr. Ashton, Max’s father, cajoled them into submission over a few lengthy phone calls.

Five hours of flying left me terminally bored, but the drive to Max’s house quickly resuscitated me. Miles of endless woods rushed past the car, the greens and browns and golds of its leaves shivering at gusts of wind that rolled over the landscape. In all its glittering splendor, the forest almost looked like an emerald sea. I couldn’t wait for morning, when Max and I could sail into it and explore its darkest reaches.

Now and again, townsfolk waved at the car as we passed. The orange glow of sunset died away to deep purples, and the trees gave way to little houses. Eventually, we pulled up to a sprawling estate. It looked eerie in the twilight. Creeping vines had conquered many of its walls, and the darkness that emanated from the windows of the upper floor seemed…full, as if concealing the presence of terrible things that watched us approach the house. An old sign hung from a rusty chain near the driveway: Ashton Family Mortuary.

After we lugged my bags inside, Mr. Ashton sat me down and laid out a few ground rules. He explained that he was a retired medical examiner and now ran a funeral home. As such, Max and I were to be silent and invisible during services. He also told us that the basement was completely off-limits, and that whenever the “big, weird-looking cars” drove to the back of the house to unload, we were to remain inside. Max already knew the drill and rolled his eyes throughout the lecture, but Mr. Ashton was insistent that I repeat his rules back to him. I did.

It wasn’t until later that night, over a box of pizza and some video games in Max’s room, that I realized the gravity of what went on it this house.

“There’s really dead bodies in here?” I asked.

“Yep,” Max replied, not tearing his eyes from the TV screen.

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Dunno,” he said. “We can ask my stepbrother when he gets home. He works for my dad.”

Max’s stepbrother was a nice guy, but like Mr. Ashton, there was something off about him. His name was Jared and he looked about eighteen years old. In the few days since I’d arrived, he never smiled – not out of some ill-concealed malice, but rather from a reserved piety. The guy wore a cross around his neck and stayed up late in the night reading an old Bible at the kitchen table. He read it with enthusiasm. With real faith. And when I expressed my fascination with the Ashton family business over breakfast one morning, his eyes lit up, and he asked me dozens of questions about my thoughts on God and death and what makes someone a “good person.”

Even though my answers were scant and unlettered, Jared seemed engaged by my curiosity. He told me that death had been turned into a sort of pornography by the media, and that it was nothing like how it’s portrayed on TV. He told me that it is a sobering experience to walk among the dead, to know them, and that if everyone could do it, our culture would be different, “the way it used to be.”

After a long moment of studying me with his eyes, Jared said simply,

“Would you like to meet them?”

Max looked up at me from a bowl of Reese’s Puffs. Milk dribbled down his chubby chin. He shook his head slightly.

“Who?” I asked.

Jared answered with a smile – the first one I’d ever seen him wear.

“You mean…” I said.

“Max is too scared,” he replied.

“Am not,” Max piped up. “It’s against dad’s rules.”

Jared nodded.

“It is,” he said. “But if for the right reasons, your dad would understand. Felix, if you want to, I’ll take you to them.”

“Right now?” I asked.

“Tonight. When everyone’s asleep. I’ll come wake you up.”

My heart fluttered with terrified excitement. Max shook his head again and continued shoveling cereal into his mouth. Jared returned to taking notes quietly.

Later that evening, Max tried to talk me out of my arrangement with his stepbrother. He said that Jared wasn’t as nice as everyone thought, and that he sometimes came home drunk when Mr. Ashton wasn’t around. As night fell and Max piled on the discouragement, I broke, and agreed to call off the “meeting.” But Jared wasn’t home yet, so I had no way of backing out.

It was after 1 AM when Jared came for me. I’d already fallen asleep, and had nearly forgotten about the whole thing. But when the bedroom door creaked open and Jared’s shadowy form loomed over me, I couldn’t get the words out.

“Follow me,” he said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was a command. Too afraid to protest, I obeyed, and followed Jared down a long hallway. We made our way through the dark house and went down to the first floor, then descended an even longer staircase to the basement.

At the bottom of the staircase, Jared flicked on a dim light. Painted above a set of ornate doors was a quote:

Your dead will live; their corpses will rise. You who lie in the dust, awake and shout for joy, for your dew is as the dew of the dawn, and the earth will give birth to the departed spirits. Isaiah 26:19

Jared looked down at me inquisitively, probably wondering if I could make sense of the passage. When he realized it was Greek to me, he pushed open one of the doors and ushered me inside.

The linoleum floor was cold beneath my bare feet. My footsteps echoed on forever through a soupy darkness. I couldn’t see a thing, and yet I was compelled forward by a warm hand on my back.

“I…I don’t think I wanna do this,” I finally muttered.

“It’s no big deal,” Jared whispered. “Relax.”

We rounded a corner, and another, guided only by an occasional flicker of Jared’s flashlight. He kept it off, not wanting to be discovered by Mr. Ashton. We finally arrived at a door whose edges were outlined from inside by a faint blue light. Jared unlocked it and pushed it open.

Before me lay some kind of preparation room. It was illuminated only by the faint glow of a pair of blue lights. A large table sat in the room’s center, resting beneath a cluster of medical lenses and lights that reminded me of something from my eye doctor’s office. Jumbles of equipment and tubes hung from metal racks on either side of the table. Against the far wall was a row of smaller tables that attached to deep sinks at the headrest.

“That’s where we drain them,” Jared said. His mouth was so close to my ear that I could smell his breath. The reek of booze assailed my nose and made me dizzy.

“What about the lights?” I asked, trying to stall the inevitable. I didn’t want to see the bodies anymore.

“Helps you clean up easier,” he replied. “Makes the blood glow.”

Suddenly, the lights popped on, chasing away the dark scenes that played out in my mind. We both jumped and whirled around. There stood Mr. Ashton, dressed as though he were ready to deliver a eulogy. He had a Bible tucked beneath his arm, and a look of carefully restrained fury on his face. His large frame blocked the door and any chance for escape.

Jared scrambled to explain himself to his father, but Mr. Ashton silenced him with a hand and grumbled, “Get out.” As his son vanished down the dark hallway, the frost in Mr. Ashton’s expression melted away to fatherly concern.

“He put you up to this?” he asked.

I told Mr. Ashton that it wasn’t Jared’s fault, and that I’d asked to see the bodies – but then changed my mind. When he asked me why, I said I was afraid they’d move. Mr. Ashton let a chuckle slip out, then caught himself and took a step toward me.

“Do you know about the Last Judgment?” he asked, retrieving the book from beneath his arm.

I shook my head.

“What we do here is very serious,” he explained, “and Jared sometimes forgets that. Did he tell you what we do, exactly?”

“Prepare….bodies…for the funeral?” I guessed, trying not to seem any dumber than I’d already made myself out to be.

“No,” Mr. Ashton said. “It’s more important than that. You see, when you put a body in the earth, you’re preparing it to be reunited with the soul of its owner.”

My confused gaze did not discourage Mr. Ashton. He dropped a big palm onto my shoulder.

“We will all be judged on the Last Day. On that day, the Devil will run amok over all the lands of the earth. Famine, war, false prophets, you name it. And then, over the chaos, a sound will ring out – the final trumpet blast of the angels, heralding the return of Christ. His kingdom will come. And those who sleep in the dust of the ground will awake. The dead shall rise. Your soul will return to your body, and you and I and everyone will stand before the white throne, where the true content of our hearts will be laid bare. Some of us will go on to everlasting life in His kingdom, and for others, to disgrace and torment. They go to the fire, Felix.”

I’d heard the apocalyptic prattle of the deeply religious before, but only in movies and out of the mouths of people on street corners. In this place – deep in the basement of a mortuary and surrounded by corpses in the dead of night – his words terrified me.

“That’s what we do,” Mr. Ashton said, squeezing my shoulder and then brushing past me. “Come see them. They’re not so scary. Although they do move, from time to time.”

We rounded a thin wall toward the back corner of the room. On the other side was a matrix of small metal doors, only big enough to crawl into. The moment I laid eyes on them, I knew what they were. My fear morphed into a surreal and ineffable sensation that rippled across my skin; death in its physical form was right here in the same room, right next to me, separated from me only by a tiny piece of metal.

And then Mr. Ashton opened one.

He slid out a metal panel from the darkness inside. The sound reverberated across the labyrinthine halls of the basement. Atop the panel was the shape of a big man, covered in a pale blue sheet.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, and pulled the sheet down.

The bright light made the cadaver look hyperreal, as if rendered in a video game rather than existing in our world. My brain crumpled as it tried to rectify the sight of a human body with the knowledge that no one was in there anymore.

“Heart attack,” Mr. Ashton said, barely above a whisper. “Died with the phone in his hand.”

As I looked over the man’s pallid skin, Mr. Ashton opened another door.

“Do you think if they got to him in time, they could have saved him?” I asked.

“Wasn’t calling 911,” he replied. “He was ordering a pizza when it happened. Some poor kid had to listen while he died.”

I looked over and saw a woman lying beneath Mr. Ashton. She was much more gruesome; black marks pocked her arms, and her dry lips curled back to reveal rotting gums and missing teeth. Bits of her hair had fallen out. Her nails were brittle and yellowed.

“Mrs. Edelman,” he said, motioning me to approach. “She was the only dance teacher within fifty miles. Taught my wife and I to ballroom, long time ago. But she fell into drugs. Lost her business, and eventually her husband. And here she is.”

I couldn’t even look at her. Her appearance was so revolting I had to turn away, back to the fat man. But his visage was haunting in a different way: he looked so much nearer, so much closer to the life he’d lost.

One last door opened, and one more body slid out. The smallest of the three.

My heart nearly died in my chest. The air went cold, and the room seemed to shrink around me. It was a boy, right about my age. He even looked a bit like me. But his skin was drained of all its color, spare a horrid purple that accented his lips and fingers.

“Martha Shaw’s boy,” Mr. Ashton said, a wave of pity breaking in his voice. “Ran away from home after an argument. Hunter found his body out there in the woods. Froze to death. He’s a mystery, though…it hasn’t been below 60 at night out here for months. Bone-dry when they found him. No water in his lungs.”

A tingly sweat washed over me – the kind that precedes vomiting. My skin went clammy. In my mind, death came for the old and the sick, those far away and unknown to me. It didn’t come for little kids. And yet lying before me was the rancid proof that I was wrong.

“What do you think?” he asked. I could tell he was hoping for a specific answer, like he was testing me.

I looked over the three bodies, then back up at him.

“They all died because of their own bad mistakes,” I said. “They were stupid. Right?”

Mr. Ashton regarded the bodies with a fatherly expression: disappointed, but compassionate.

“We’re none of us perfect,” he replied, “and so it’s not our place to judge. That’s the province of the Lord alone. Pity the dead, Felix. And hope that someday, someone pities you.”

I nodded, still lost in the verbosity of his preachments.

“You said they move…Do they really?”

“Oh yes,” he laughed. “Different gasses manifest inside ‘em. A natural part of decomposition. They wheeze and sigh. Sound like they’re breathing. Sometimes they even moan. The mouth moves.”

I shuddered. I watched the boy’s lips, half-expecting them to whisper my name.

“Sometimes the muscles tremor right after death. The fingers and toes wiggle. I once saw a cadaver that looked like it was trying to tap-dance.”

My eyes shot to the dance teacher, and I took a step away from her.

“The dead shall rise,” Mr. Ashton said, sliding the woman back into her metal container and locking the door.

I don’t know why I did it – perhaps the morbid fascination compelled me – but I reached out and grabbed the tag dangling from the boy’s big toe.

Shaw, Trevor. #904. DOD: 8/2. Exposure.

I watched my fingers wrap around the foot. It was ice-cold. Too cold even for the storage container. I ripped my hand back and shoved it into my pocket, but the warmth didn’t return to it for a long while.

My dreams were filled with terrible things that night. In them, I found myself at the top of the stairs at night, looking down on a shadowy figure. It was Trevor, and he was beckoning me down into the dark with a silent gesture. I woke up in fright, and forced my eyes to remain open until the morning light seeped into Max’s bedroom.

The day came and went. Max and I wandered the trails near the house, but I couldn’t shake the images of drained human husks that swirled in my mind. They were just empty vessels now, abandoned by their former pilots and left to spoil like old meat. And yet, standing beside them, they felt so alive. I ruminated on these strange fantasies to the point that I barely heard anything Max said as we hiked.

We returned to his house just as the daylight died away. Mr. Ashton was on his way out the door, fully dressed in work attire, and told us that Jared was in charge for a few hours.

“He’s hosting his Bible Study group tonight,” Max’s father said. “Stay upstairs and don’t get into any trouble, boys.”

As the night carried on, members of Jared’s group began to arrive. Two by two they came, and the more I watched them from the staircase, the more I realized that these teenagers shared none of Jared’s enthusiasm for the word of God. He tried to marshal a legitimate study session, but more people kept showing up, and the effort collapsed into laughter and loud chatting. Music was blared and drinks were poured, and eventually, the ground floor of the house was a lively party.

I left the solace of Max’s room to forage for cookies in the pantry, and my presence attracted the attention of a drunken couple.

“Hey kid!” one of them yelled from the nearby couch. “You ever tried whiskey?”

I tried to ignore him and head back upstairs, but I was intercepted by Jared.

“Hey buddy,” he mumbled. The reek of his boozy breath singed my nose. He wrapped an arm around me and jerked me in the opposite direction I headed, guiding me toward the creepy basement staircase at the other end of the room. “We never got to finish our little chat in the prep room!”

“Fuck off, Jared,” I snapped. I tried to slither out of his grip, but he clutched me with threatening strength.

“You said you wanted to meet them,” he replied, ushering me down the stairs. He kicked the double doors open and shoved me into the darkness beyond them. Then he dragged the doors shut. I heard them lock behind me.

“No!” I screamed, pounding my fists against the doors. “You asshole! Let me out! Max! Maaax!”

“Hey you guys ever heard of postmortem priapism?” Jared yelled to his friends. They yelled something back that I couldn’t make out. “Well sometimes dead bodies get boners! Big ones!”

Muffled laughter and hooting echoed from the living room.

“Don’t drop your cookies in there!” he cackled. I heard his footsteps move up the stairs and vanish.

I tried for several minutes to get someone’s attention by slamming into the doors. When nobody came to my rescue, I tried to conjure a mental map of the basement, but couldn’t remember anything. I was too scared. I couldn’t remember if there was another way out.

Suddenly, a murmur arose far off in the dark. It echoed down the corridor toward me, and sounded like “Christ.” Goosebumps rippled down my arms. I fell silent.

Something rattled up ahead. Muffled banging and clanking sounds floated on the cold air. An image appeared in my mind: the metal container doors shuddering from inside, pale limbs bashing against them. I sunk to the floor and shoved myself against the wall, trying to disappear into it. But then, something scraped against the linoleum – the smacking of bare feet. They rose in volume, approaching me from far off in a meandering way. The person walked as if lost or drunk, occasionally bumping into things and rattling door knobs.

I instinctively leaped to my feet and trotted around the perimeter of the room, guiding myself with one hand on the wall. The entire basement was pitch black. The darkness had no depth to it at all; it was as if I wore a black bag over my head.

”Ughhh- hnggg,” the person groaned. It was a man’s voice, taut with pain and shoved through gritting teeth. I could sense him thrashing and flailing around only a few feet away from me now. I cowered behind what felt like a file cabinet, praying he’d stumble right past me. The man howled and tripped over something, then crashed into the cabinet. The force of it knocked me flat on my back, but the man didn’t seem to notice me. He flapped around on the tile like a fish in a boat, then fell still. A long, gurgling sigh issued from his mouth, then vanished to silence.

Pure adrenaline coursed through me. I leaped over the spot on the floor where I knew the man would be, and made my way down the hall he’d come from. I kept my head low and my arms out in a protective block just in case I bumped into anything – or anyone.

I rounded a corner, then another, searching the walls for unlocked doors. I found one and pushed it open. There was no echo in here, so I knew I was in a small room, perhaps an office. I stumbled through the murky black before me until my hands fell upon a large desk. I circled it and sat in the chair, rifling through drawers in search of a flashlight, matches, anything.

Another set of footprints scampered down the hallway I’d just been in. They bolted past the office door, paused at the end of the hall, and then doubled back. Someone was running back and forth out there, panting and wheezing as they went.

“Oh they’ll come for it,” a woman muttered, grinding her teeth between words. “They’ll come and take it all away, you give ‘em half the chance. Sons of bitches, sons of bitches. Where is it?!”

I froze in place. My shallow breathing caused the rickety chair I sat in to squeak. The woman ceased her ramblings and slowly approached the office. I held my breath. I’d left the door slightly open for fear of locking myself in, but now I wished I’d done the opposite. It groaned as the woman pushed on it, and raspy breathing filled the room, carrying with it the burning stench of formaldehyde. Mrs. Edelman’s ghoulish face appeared in my mind: those rotting teeth and papery lips, the bald patches, the pallid eyes. Even if I’d found a flashlight, I’d not have turned it on.

The door frame crackled, and I realized the woman was leaning into the room, holding herself with those bony, meatless arms. She took a huge whiff of the air and let out a dry giggle.

”I KNOW YOU’RE IN HERE!” she shrieked. I yelped in horror, but the sound was drowned out by the door slamming.

“One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three,” the woman spoke. Her voice was muffled now. She had returned to the hall. I sunk beneath the desk and hid, listening and hoping that she’d go away.

After a few minutes of silence, I risked cracking the door open and poking my head outside. Something moved at the end of the hall where I’d escaped the man.

Tap, tap, shhhhk, tap, tap, shhhhk, tap, tap, shhhhk…

It sounded like footsteps, but the movements were to rhythmic. Only after hearing the woman gently humming did I realize that she was dancing. I imagined her wretched figure poised with arms wrapped around an invisible lover, whirling and lunging up and down the hall in a macabre ballroom performance. She hummed an off-key tune with glee, and the thought of a gruesome smile plastered across her decaying face sent me flying down the hall in the opposite direction.

I tried so desperately to get away from her that I didn’t feel for where I was going, and smashed full-force into a wall. I sat down, trying to regain my balance. The dancing stopped, and for a moment, I had no idea where the woman was. I couldn’t remember which direction I’d come from. I tried to follow the wall but found a dead end, so I doubled back.

Something metal clattered up ahead, and at the same time, that horrid wheezing erupted behind me. I locked up, hoping that the darkness would cloak me, and soon the wheezing vanished. I prayed the woman had wandered off again.

Hot breath rolled over my neck, flooding my nostrils.

“Are you interested in lessons?” she hissed into my hear.

A primal scream exploded from my mouth, and my feet propelled me forward as fast as they could go. They carried me far away from the cackling of that awful woman, and I turned corner after corner, hoping that the basement was big enough to hide from her. Tears flowed down my face and would have blinded me, had there been any light at all. But I was sightless as a mole, fumbling around in the endless dark of a corpse-filled labyrinth.

I tripped over something soft and toppled to the floor. The instant I connected with the object, I knew what it was – the body of a fat man. I was back in the same place I’d started. I tried to hold back my pitiful sobbing and crawled toward where I thought the double doors were.

My hands landed on a pair of feet. They were little things, no bigger than my own, and their iciness felt like an electric shock. A pair of small hands cupped my face, sucking the warmth from my body. They trembled, and soon I became aware of a figure before me, shivering and whimpering.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I begged.

“It’s so cold,” it said in the voice of a young boy. He grabbed my wrist and wrenched me to my feet. The boy tugged at my arm, trying to lead me somewhere, but I resisted.

“Let me go!” I shouted.

Two voices erupted from behind me.

“Well I’ll be damned,” a man said nearby. His voice was sad and monotoned.

“Did you find it?!” screamed the woman from farther off. Her anxious footfalls thumped toward me.

“I’ll take you where it’s warm,” the boy whispered. “Hurry!”

The boy dragged me down a corridor with unnatural strength. Screams and moans echoed all around us, and the smacking of feet on tile haunted our every move. I could hear the two other beings in hot pursuit. My legs nearly gave out as my terror overloaded my brain – but then I saw a light. A faint, blue light at the end of the hall.

It was the preparation room – the one Jared had showed me. As we entered, I tried to get a look at the boy who led me, but the light popped and darkness washed over the room. He dragged me around a corner and shoved me against a metal panel.

“Go,” the boy whispered. His teeth chattered so hard he could barely speak. “It’s the only place that’s warm.” He slammed me down onto the panel. Before I could protest, he slid the panel forward several feet. A small metal door slammed shut behind me, and I suddenly got the sensation of being trapped in a tiny space. I reached out and felt metal walls encasing me, and knew I was inside one of the storage containers for cadavers.

I went to scream for help, but a cacophony of shrieks and crashes silenced me from just outside the metal door. Hands pounded on it, this time from outside, as the wretched creatures howled for my flesh. There was no escape this time.

After a considerable struggle, the metal door finally ripped open, and blinding light flooded the container I lay in.

“What in God’s name is going on?” a familiar voice boomed. Warm hands gently pulled me from my tomb, and soon I was in Mr. Ashton’s arms.

“What happened, Felix?” he demanded. “What did they do to you?” He carried me away from the containers toward the preparation room. I looked over his shoulder and saw three cadavers on the floor – the man and woman heaped in a pile, the boy propped up in a sitting position against the wall.

“Don’t look,” Mr. Ashton whispered, “don’t look.”

When my father found out what had happened, he was on the next plane to Pennsylvania. Mr. Ashton tried to explain that his oldest son had played a terrible prank on me. Jared’s friends had acted the roles of corpses stored in the morgue, and worst of all, Max had been blackmailed into pretending he was Trevor Shaw. The two boys sat quietly in the living room with their heads hung low as my father shouted and lectured the entire family, and Jared apologized several times – but Max never said a word or looked me in the eye.

Many years have passed since I’ve spoken with Max. I was forbidden to ever contact him again, and I didn’t really want to anyway. But I have always wondered if Max was hiding his face from me because he was ashamed of what he’d done – or because he was terrified of the fact that his father was a liar.

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[torestoreamends]

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: When The Time Is Right

9.1k words, G rated

Albus is going to ask Scorpius to marry him on New Year’s Eve. That’s the plan at least, but first he needs to find a ring, and pick the right words to propose with. It’s all a lot easier said than done. 

This is a follow up to this little ficlet I wrote for @ohscorbus as a Christmas present. I didn’t really plan to write the actual proposal, but it seemed like a cute idea for a new year’s fic, so 9000 words later here we are! 

Thanks to @abradystrix for betaing this monster, and coming up with some brilliant critique. 

*

Doing this on Boxing Day was the worst idea Albus has ever had. He'd known it was a bad idea before he set off, and now he's utterly convinced of it. Diagon Alley is still several streets away, but he's already hot and sweaty from shoving through all the crowds, he's fallen over several small children, and one Muggle woman weighed down with shopping bags has berated him for pushing her, which he definitely didn't do, or if he did it wasn't his fault. Not to mention, the thicker the crowds get the more terrified he is of losing the small box he's carrying inside his coat. It's the most precious thing he's ever been trusted with, and it would be so easy for it to fall out of his pocket, or for someone to take it. 

It's a relief when he finally makes it through the door of the Leaky Cauldron and takes refuge in the quiet, dark pub, with its smoky fire crackling away in the grate. There aren't many people in here today. Presumably most are out in the street beyond, taking advantage of Galleon saving deals. The only person in sight is the barman.

"Young Mister Potter," Tom wheezes at him, giving him a toothy grin. "Staying for a drink?" 

Albus shakes his head. "Sorry, not today. I have some things to buy, and I need to get back before Scorpius gets in from work. Maybe later in the week." 

"Of course. Best of luck with the crowds, sir," Tom says bowing him towards the door.

Albus sighs. "Thanks. I think I'm going to need it." 

The second he gets through the wall at the back of the pub, he's confronted with a sea of noise and bodies. It's even worse than the Muggle shopping streets. There are people crammed into every inch of space. Spilling in and out of shops, being washed along in the tide, almost knocking into the barrels of beetle eyes and cauldrons of Dragon's blood that stand outside the apothecary. 

Parents shout for their kids, friends call belated holiday greetings as they pass, curses and hexes spark and flare inside the shops as people fight over the best deals. Added to the din are the Christmas decorations, which still sing carols, but rather tiredly now as their charms wear off. It's pure chaos, and Albus is ever more certain he's made a terrible mistake, but he doesn't have a choice. He has to do this. So he takes a breath and plunges headlong into the crowd, hand clamped tight over the box in his inside pocket.

It takes ten minutes to get down the street. Ten hot, sweaty, sticky minutes in which he's poked by many sharp elbows, clouted by several heavy shopping bags, and shoved by at least a dozen people. Eventually, mercifully, the crowd thins out, and he's able to walk along at a reasonable pace without having his feet trodden on. 

He ruffles a hand through his hair and looks around. He knows the name of the shop he's looking for, but he's never visited it before. There's never been a reason to visit it. But apparently, according to Draco, it's the best. Which probably means it's very expensive. That's okay though. This is something he's willing to spend money on. 

The shop, Sylver & Sisters, is in a tall, thin building, squeezed in tight between an antique bookshop and a cauldron maker's. It's brightly lit inside, glowing white bubbles of light send a pearlescent shimmer across the room, and there are all sorts of glass cabinets around the walls, full of ancient necklaces that drip with sapphires, ruby diadems, earrings set with such large emeralds that Albus wonders how anyone could possibly wear them, and a set of flawless gold bangles which, according to the label, make the wearer irresistibly attractive to anyone who lays eyes on them. 

There's no one in the shop, not even a shopkeeper, so Albus looks around at the displays for a few seconds before going up to the counter. A crystal bell sits on the wooden top, with a note saying to ring it for assistance, so Albus does, and it emits a single, pure chime. When it fades the silence seems to keep on ringing, like the resonance has set the very air on edge. Albus folds his arms and shivers. 

He hears the shopkeeper speak before he sees her. 

"Albus Severus. Welcome."

He spins round and sees the woman for the first time. She must have been there all along, standing in a pool of light by the door. She's wearing peach coloured robes that sparkle in the light, although they aren't studded with any crystals that Albus can see. The only jewellery she's wearing is a single platinum band on her left ring finger. She has dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, and a warm smile. As she steps forward she extends a hand in greeting, and Albus shakes it.

"Hi. Sorry. I-I didn't see you there. I, um. I've come to buy a ring, if that's okay?"

"This is a shop, Mr Potter," the woman says, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You can buy anything you can afford."

"Right," Albus says, shaking himself. "That's a good point." 

"Thank you. My name is Madam Sylver. I'll be assisting you today." She turns away from him, sweeps across the shop, and opens a cupboard behind the counter. "You're looking for an engagement ring, correct?" 

"Yes." Albus hurries after her. "How did you know that?" 

Madam Sylver shrugs one shoulder and her robes glitter in the light. "I hear a lot of people say a lot of things. Occasionally some of those things become relevant." She glances up from the cabinet and smiles at him. "I think you have some ideas in mind already?"

Albus nods and pulls the small box from the inside pocket of his coat, holding it as carefully as he can. He's still afraid he might somehow damage it, and he'd never be forgiven for that. "This was Astoria Malfoy's. Her engagement ring. I-I want something like this, but... But different." He feels utterly stupid saying it. He's spent so long thinking about this, about what he wants, about what Scorpius would want, but he doesn't know anything about rings, so putting his ideas into words is impossible. 

"I, um... I like the emeralds," he says. "But I don't think there should be so many of them. I don't want it to be too... gaudy. Something subtle."

"Of course," Madam Sylver says with a nod. "I believe I have some things which might suit." She turns to the cupboard and begins pulling out boxes, murmuring softly under her breath, and frowning. "Perhaps something like... And the enchantments in this one... Yes, I think this might work..."

Albus eyes the growing pile of boxes on the counter with some apprehension. How are you supposed to choose something like this? If only rings were like wands and would choose their owner. That would be perfect. But sadly it doesn't seem to work like that.

The way it does work is that he spends the next half an hour examining ring after ring, trying to decide what he likes and doesn't. Black gold? A little too sinister. A single large emerald? Too over the top. Celtic patterns? Beautiful, but maybe not that design. The result is that he's left with three equally beautiful rings and no idea which to choose. 

There's one in a beautiful rose gold, scattered with tiny diamonds that look like a constellation of stars and seem to orbit slowly round the band. The second is pure silver, decorated with a design that looks like the numerals on a clock, and studded with emeralds in between. The last is also silver, but the intricate design of Celtic knots is made of a bright gold that seems to glow. There's a single emerald set into the band, but it doesn't break the infinite twisting circle of the design. When Albus picks it up it feels warm to touch, and he glances up at Madam Sylver. 

"This one, why does it feel like this?" 

Madam Sylver smiles, eyes shining in the bright white lights. "That is one of my favourites. I created the enchantments myself. Here." She holds a hand out for the ring, and Albus hands it to her. It sits in the palm of her hand and she points to the gold design. "It's laced with Felix Felicis, for luck, of course. It won't ever be as strong as if you drank it for yourself, but it would bring good fortune to the wearer. And woven into the design is an ancient spell, for long life, good health, and a happy and loving future. I believe the spell is the same one as can be found in Astoria Malfoy's ring." She glances up at Albus. "A ring cannot change someone's fate, but it can enhance the relationships they have and the life they lead."

Albus nods and looks between the three rings. The one with the diamond constellations is beautiful, but he can't help but be drawn to the ring still sitting in the palm of Madam Sylver's hand. It's perfect, everything he would have wanted, and he can't help but imagine Scorpius wearing it, the emerald glittering on his finger. 

"I-I think I want that one," he says. "The one with the Felix Felicis. It's what I imagined. I think he'll like it. I hope he will..." 

Madam Sylver beams at him. "I think it's a perfect choice. Congratulations."

Albus smiles and digs his hands into his pockets, excitement and nerves churning away inside of him. "Thanks." He shuffles his feet on the floor as he watches Madam Sylver put the ring back in its box. He's jittering with nerves, and every step he takes towards the moment of asking Scorpius to marry him, the more real and terrifying a prospect it becomes. 

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Madam Sylver asks, tucking the ring box away into a small bag. 

"Actually, yes," Albus says. "I'd like a chain, a silver one, so he can still wear it while he's at work, if he wants to." 

Ten minutes later he emerges into the sunlight of Diagon Alley, about a sackful of Galleons lighter, and holding the bag with the ring inside. Madam Sylver wishes him luck as he leaves, and all he can do is thank her and say he'll need it. He manages to Apparate home before Scorpius gets back from work, and he hides both Astoria's ring and the new one, Scorpius's one, away inside the Mokeskin pouch his dad had given him for Christmas a couple of years ago. 

 Over the next few days Albus checks on Scorpius's ring as often as he can. It's difficult, trying to keep a secret from Scorpius, who he usually tells everything to, especially because Scorpius is suspicious and smart, and can read Albus like a book.

"You're distracted," he says on the evening of Boxing Day, when they're in the kitchen together, messing around with the recipe of a potion Albus has been working on, which is designed to reduce the risk of lycanthropic effects in the event of being bitten by a werewolf. 

Albus shakes himself. He'd been thinking about the ring, and trying to decide the best place at the Manor to propose. Maybe at the top of the stairs by the Christmas tree, or out on the bridge by the river... 

"I'm not distracted!"

Scorpius raises an eyebrow and points a finger across the cauldron. "You are distracted. What are you thinking about? Is it work again?" He picks up a bit of knotgrass and sprinkles it onto the surface of the potion. 

"No, no. I'm not. I'm- Scorpius you need to push that grass down or you'll ruin it. Come here." Albus picks his wand up and starts shoving the torn up grass to the bottom of the cauldron. "It burns if you leave it on the surface too long." 

Scorpius smiles, eyes sparkling in the firelight. "I know. I just wanted to get your attention." 

Albus tuts. "You have my attention. You don't need to ruin my recipe to get it." 

"Mmhmm?" Scorpius says, voice light and teasing. 

"Honestly," Albus says. "I'm not thinking about work. Everything is fine. Even Dad is relaxing this week."

"Is he?" Scorpius asks, amazed. "I didn't think your dad knew how to relax." 

"Neither did I, but if Mum says he's relaxing then it must be true. Could you pass me the Tincture of Demiguise please?" 

Scorpius hands it over, then leans against the edge of the table. "If there was something worrying you, would you tell me?" 

Albus laughs and looks up at him. "I tell you everything." 

"You didn't tell me what Christmas presents you'd got me." 

Albus throws a tea towel in his face. "You're an idiot. That's meant to be a surprise. That's the whole point of presents. What sort of boyfriend would I be if I told you what gifts I'd got you?"

"A less frustrating one?" Scorpius says, throwing the towel back. "But seriously. You would talk to me?"

Albus puts the tea towel down and looks across at him. "I tell you everything. There's nothing I can't or wouldn't tell you. Honestly, Scorpius. I love you, and... And I'm really glad I have you to talk to. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"Okay," Scorpius says, picking up a chopping board covered with bits of dissected Flobberworm. "I did not expect you to get so sappy about it. But... That's good to know. Thank you for reassuring me." 

"Any time." 

It takes two days before Scorpius starts getting suspicious again. Albus has just got back from another trip upstairs to check on the ring, and he walks into the front room to see Scorpius looking at him, book forgotten in his lap, a frown on his face.

"Are you okay, Albus?"

Albus nods. "Totally fine. What are you reading?" He strolls across the room and drops onto the couch beside Scorpius. 

"Why do you keep running upstairs?" Scorpius asks. Apparently he won't be so easily distracted.

Albus shrugs. "No reason. I just keep forgetting things. My work bag is up there." 

"You could just bring it downstairs. Or you could summon what you need." Scorpius looks at him, a little frown creasing his forehead. "Are you ill? Is it diarrhoea or-"

"Scorpius!"

"Because I can fix that. I know spells." Scorpius draws his wand and taps Albus on the knee with it. "I'm a Healer. I know it's embarrassing, but you don't have to suffer."

Albus shoves Scorpius's wand away. "I do not have- I'm fine, okay? Put that away. I just have things I need, alright?"

Scorpius puts his wand away and pokes Albus in the arm with his finger instead. "I don't believe you."

"Don't, then. I don't care." Albus picks Scorpius's book up and starts reading it. It's all in some kind of runic alphabet, and he has no clue what any of it says.

"Enjoying that?" Scorpius asks, leaning his head against Albus's.

Albus looks at him. "You're reading this book for fun? You're completely ridiculous, you know that?"

Scorpius steals it back. "It's good. It's interesting. But you're not distracting me. I know you're up to something." He waves the book in Albus's direction. "You can't hide anything from me, Albus Severus Potter." 

Albus groans and drags a hand through his hair. "If I told you it'll all make sense soon, would you leave me alone and stop worrying about it? Because I promise, it will. I-I just... Need you to stop thinking about it for a couple of days, okay?"

Scorpius frowns. "Is it a present?" 

Albus dithers for a moment, then nods. "Yes. Let's say it's a belated Christmas present. Can you live with that answer?"

Scorpius thinks. "I mean, it's not very satisfying, but I suppose I can survive for a couple of days." 

Albus sighs. "Well thank Dumbledore for that. No questions until New Year's Day. None at all. Okay?"

Scorpius grins and nods. His voice goes high pitched and excited as he says, "okay!" 

 On New Year's Eve, Scorpius goes to the Manor to help Draco get ready for the Malfoy's annual new year celebration. Albus goes to his parents' house in Ottery St Catchpole for the day, because he can't handle spending it alone. The ring sits in the pocket of his cloak, and he pats it to check it's still there every two minutes, until he gets sick of panicking and locks both cloak and ring away in his old Hogwarts trunk where no one can touch them.

After that Albus sits at the kitchen table and starts trying to decide what exactly to say to Scorpius. There's so much he could say. He loves Scorpius with everything he has, and there are thousands of words he could come up with to try and express that, but somehow all of them feel inadequate. He pulls out a sheaf of parchment and a quill and starts writing things down and crossing them out. 

You told me once that if you had to choose a companion for the return of eternal darkness you would choose me... Well I would choose you too.

When I met you on the Hogwarts Express, when we were kids, I knew I'd found a friend for life, but I didn't realise then that I was already in love with you. You're incredible, Scorpius, and I want to spend forever with you.

You saw me, Scorpius, the real me, when everyone else only saw Harry Potter's son. You still know me better than anyone else, and I love you. I never want to lose you. 

We've been together for so long, through so much, and there's no one else I would want to share my life with. Everything feels easier with you. I want to be with you always. 

Soon the table is littered with balled up scraps of parchment. Nothing feels right. Nothing feels like enough. It's all cheesy and ridiculous, and he hates it. If only he could cast a spell that would pour the contents of his heart onto paper. That might do it justice, but that spell doesn't exist, and what is inside him remains inside him. If there was a Pensieve at Malfoy Manor he could show Scorpius a memory of the two of them, one of his favourites, but there isn't. There's nothing. Just ink and parchment and his own useless brain.

With a wave of his wand he flings all the wasted pieces of parchment into the fire and starts again. He's still writing when his dad enters the kitchen half an hour later.

"What are you writing?" Harry asks, peering over Albus's shoulder.

Albus quickly covers the parchment with his arm. "None of your business." 

Harry raises his hands in surrender and backs away. "Sorry. Didn't mean to intrude." He wanders away and draws his wand. "Do you want some tea? I'm going to start lunch in a minute." 

"Yes please." Albus stares down at his latest attempt at a proposal, then looks up at his dad. "I'm, um." He swallows. "I'm trying to work out what to say to Scorpius. When I- When I ask him to marry me." 

Harry drops the kettle onto the counter with a clatter and spins round. "What did you just say?"

Albus shifts in his seat. "I-I said... I'm trying to work out what to say to Scorpius when I ask him to marry me..." He trails off, watching as Harry's face goes through a complex array of emotions, finally settling on amazement.

"You're going to propose to him?" 

Albus nods. "Tonight. If I can work out what to say." He screws up the latest bit of parchment and tosses it into the fire. "No luck so far."

"That's..." Harry shakes his head, seeming to struggle for the words. "That's amazing news." 

"But if I have nothing to say to him then I can't ask him, and-" Albus thumps his fist on the table in frustration. "How am I supposed to do this, Dad?"

Harry hesitates for a moment, then walks across to the table, where he sits beside Albus and turns his chair to face him. "I don't think you need to say much," he says, voice gentle. "He already knows you love him, anyone can see that. I think you can just ask him. I've always thought speeches are a bit overrated." 

"But..." Albus glares down at the next blank piece of parchment. "But I want to tell him- I don't know what. I don't know where to start." 

Harry smiles and squeezes his shoulder. "Just be yourself, Albus. I can't tell you not to worry, you're going to do that whatever I say, but you know Scorpius loves you because you're you. So if you just be yourself and speak from your heart, then how far wrong can you go?" 

Albus's shoulders slump, but he swallows and nods. "Okay." He glances up at his dad. "Thanks, I think."

Harry pats him once on the shoulder. "You'll be just fine. I can't see any way this doesn't go well." 

"Really? Because I can see a thousand ways," Albus mutters.

Harry laughs and gets to his feet. He draws his wand and starts making the tea. "I remember when I proposed to your mum. It was a disaster and she still said yes. It took her a minute to stop laughing at me before she agreed though. You can't do a worse job than I did, Albus. It isn't possible."

Albus dips his quill in the ink bottle and runs a hand through his hair. "I really hope you're right." 

 Several hours later he's sitting at the bottom of the stairs by the front door, wrapped up in his cloak, waiting for his parents to finish getting ready. The ring is in his pocket, he doesn't have any words planned, nerves keep swooping through his stomach, but he's determined, and as ready as he's ever going to be. Now he just wants to get on with it.

"James and Lily are on their way," Ginny says as she emerges from the kitchen. "I have the wine. Your father is changing his shirt..." She looks at Albus. "Is there anything I've forgotten?" 

Albus shakes his head. "I don't think so. Unless... Are you taking presents like you did last year?" 

Ginny shakes her head. "We owled them this year, in time for Christmas." She runs a hand through her hair then throws her hands up. "Well, if there's anything else we need it's too late. I give up." 

Albus smiles and slips a hand into his pocket, checking once again that the ring is there. As he does, Ginny walks across to him and leans against the wall beside him, looking down at him and lowering her voice. 

"What about you? Are you ready?" 

He looks up at her. "I don't know. It's just a-a..." He trails off. He could tell her, he wants to tell her. If there's one person he'd like to have on his side while he does this then it's his mum. 

"No," he says quietly. "I'm not really... I'm a bit- I'm scared."

His mum puts a hand on the bannister beside him and gives him an encouraging nod. "Go on." 

He looks down at his hands. "I'm going to ask Scorpius to marry me." 

She sits down beside him on the stairs. "Your dad told me earlier, you know. About your plans. I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to know. I think he was too excited to keep it to himself."

Albus swallows. "It's okay. I-I wanted you to know."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," Ginny says gently. "The two of you are sensible. You've been together so long, living together so long. It seems like the time is right to ask him." 

"I know," Albus murmurs. "I'm just not very good at dealing with pressure. Not this sort of pressure anyway, building something up in my head. If I'd just done it on the spur of the moment it would have been fine, but planning it all out..." He shakes his head. "I'm just going to try and be spontaneous, and..." He shrugs. "Hope for the best." 

His mum gives him a warm smile. "That's a good strategy. And you don't need to look so terrified, you know. He's not going to eat you."

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," Albus admits, in a very small voice.

Ginny ruffles his hair. "Just don't do it on that nice shirt. You look really wonderful, Albus. He'll be enamoured with you. He already is."

Albus shuffles his feet on the stairs, hugging himself and curling in tighter. "When can we go? I hate just sitting here. The sooner we get to this party the better."

"Why don't you go ahead?" Ginny asks. "We still have to wait for James and Lily. I don't want you sitting here wallowing in misery for the next hour. You know what James is like with time keeping. We'll catch up in a bit."

Albus gets up. "Are you sure?" 

Ginny nods. "Positive. You can even take the wine. Tell Draco it's best served chilled." 

Albus takes the wine bag, then steps in and hugs his mum tightly. "Alright. See you in a bit, then."

 Albus Apparates to the Manor. The walk up the drive is always hell when he's nervous, but he doesn't want to get soot on his best clothes, or have the ring fly out of his pocket somewhere in the Floo network. This is one occasion when it's best to suffer, and as he steps through the gates he knows it was a good decision.

Dusk is approaching. The sky is streaked with purple and fiery orange, and the clouds are lined with molten gold. Normally at this time of night the drive would be gloomy and greying as the light fades, but tonight someone has been out and decorated the avenue with lights. They trail round every tree trunk in a glittering silver spiral, and fan out through the branches. They line the path, little lanterns filled with flickering silver flames. They spread through the box hedges of the formal gardens at the front of the house, like stars in a black sky. The house has never looked so beautiful, and Albus can't help but smile as he follows the road to the front door.

This is Scorpius's work. Albus would know the magic anywhere. It feels warm and bright, like coming home after a long day, like a hug. And this, beautiful things like this, is why Albus is in love with him. This is why Albus is walking here with a ring in his pocket and anxiety tightening his chest. 

By the time he rings the doorbell he's utterly determined. He listens to the chime echo through the house and balls his hands into fists. This is it. He's here. And he won't leave until he's asked Scorpius Malfoy to marry him.

Draco answers the door. He smiles when he sees Albus and steps forward, offering a hand, which Albus shakes.

"Good evening. Are your parents not coming?" He holds the door open and lets Albus inside, then he peers out into the darkness for a moment, before shutting the door and turning back to him.

"They're waiting for Lily and James," Albus says. "I was getting sick of waiting so Mum told me to come ahead. She sent this for you." He holds out the bag with the wine in. "Apparently it needs to be chilled." 

Draco looks into the bag and nods. "Alright. I think I trust your mother." 

"And I brought this back," Albus says, holding out the box containing Astoria's engagement ring. "I took the best care of it that I could."

Draco closes his fingers round the box. "Thank you. Did you get-?"

Albus nods and pats his pocket. "I went to the shop you suggested. I-I hope it'll be okay." 

Draco squeezes his shoulder. "I'm sure it will." He meets Albus's eyes and gives him an encouraging nod. "Good luck." 

"I'll certainly need it." Albus sighs and wipes his feet on the door mat. "Do you need any help with anything? I'd like to take my mind off-"

"Albus!" 

Both Albus and Draco look up to see Scorpius standing halfway down the stairs. He's wearing dark grey skinny jeans, a pale green knitted sweater, and there's a huge grin on his face. Albus stares at him open mouthed for a moment, before realising what he's doing. He swallows, closes his mouth, and makes himself smile. 

"Hi, Scorpius." 

Scorpius bounces down the stairs, crosses the entrance hall, and pulls him in for a brief kiss. Despite how short it is, it still leaves Albus feeling slightly stunned. 

Draco smirks at the two of them. "I think I'll go and check on the canapés. Scorpius, make sure you offer our guest a drink, please. We have so much champagne, it needs to be drunk." 

"Yes, Dad," Scorpius says, not looking away from Albus for a second. He doesn't wait for Draco to leave before he takes Albus's hands. "You look amazing. Is that a new shirt?" 

Albus glances down at it. It's midnight blue and glitters slightly in the light, as though it's studded with stars. "Yes, I bought it for tonight." 

Scorpius beams. "I always like it when you wear blue. It suits you." 

"You look wonderful too," Albus says. "The green. I like it." 

Scorpius picks at his jumper and looks exceptionally pleased with himself. "Thank you. Come into the ballroom and I'll get you a drink. Dad will tell me off if I don't open the champagne immediately. I don't see how so few people can drink anywhere near as much champagne as he's bought, or eat as many canapés. It's like he's trying to feed an army. But we have to try, just to keep him happy." 

Albus laughs and squeezes Scorpius's hand. "If it's good champagne I'm willing to drink plenty of it." 

"Oh, it's the best. I think he's determined to spend my entire inheritance on lavish parties." Scorpius rolls his eyes as pushes the ballroom door open and leads Albus inside. 

"I think he'd have to work quite hard to spend all your inheritance," Albus points out. 

"Please don't tell him that. He'll take it as a personal challenge." Scorpius drops Albus's hand and picks up a champagne bottle. "I've always wanted to do this but I've never been allowed before. I guess Dad has finally decided I'm a responsible adult. Little does he know." A sparkling grin lights Scorpius's face as he shakes the bottle and pops the cork, which flies across the room and hits a portrait of Lucius Malfoy right in the forehead. The portrait scowls, and Scorpius smirks. "Whoops. Here you go, Albus." 

Albus beams as his glass fills with bubbling golden champagne. "I love you," he says.

"I'll drink to that," Scorpius replies, filling his own glass. 

 By 11pm the party is in full swing. Everyone has gathered in the ballroom, Ron has conjured up some music, and the air is thick with chatter and jazz. The champagne is flowing, and thanks to Lily and James, who have both come to the party from their respective Quidditch matches, Draco's canapés are disappearing at a rate of knots. 

Albus is hovering near the edge of the party, half listening to Hermione and Rose talk about a new piece of werewolf legislation, half watching Scorpius on the other side of the room. He's talking animatedly to his aunt Daphne about something, hands flying, hair ruffled, cheeks slightly pink from the champagne, the heat, and his own enthusiasm. 

Albus hasn't had chance to get near him all night since people started arriving. They've both been rushing around helping Draco, then Scorpius was swept in a conversation with Rose and James, and then Albus started to talking to Ron about work. At least Albus has been too distracted to worry much, but now it's getting later he's started to feel anxious again. Scorpius will want to watch the fireworks at midnight, and then people will start leaving and he'll have to go and say goodbye, and then he'll want to go to bed as soon as everyone has left, because he never stays up too late. If Albus doesn't act now he might lose his chance. 

"What do you think, Albus?" 

The sound of his name drags him back to reality. Both Hermione and Rose are looking at him expectantly, and he stares hopelessly between the two of them.

"Think about what, sorry? I-I was just-" he gestures vaguely over his shoulder. "Distracted. Sorry." 

Hermione smiles at him. "We noticed. We were wondering what you thought about the den raid a couple of weeks ago. You were there, weren't you?" 

Albus nods and glances over at Scorpius again, then shakes himself. "Yes, I was... I think we could have done better. It wasn't very... Organised. Sometimes when things are last minute... We make mistakes, and-" Scorpius has finished talking to Daphne and is now standing alone at the edge of the party, eyeing up the canapés. It's now or never.

Albus looks at his aunt and cousin. "Sorry, but do you mind if I-" he gestures in Scorpius's direction. "I need to talk to him. But we should definitely talk about this. It's important. On Monday at work?"

"Go on," Hermione says. "I'll put something in my diary and let you know." 

"Thank you," Albus says, incredibly grateful. "Thank you." He hangs there for a moment, then rushes across the ballroom towards Scorpius. 

He dodges and weaves through the crowd, waving away James who tries to drag him into a conversation, and ducking under a tray of canapés which floats through the air of its own accord. Finally he spots Scorpius again, perched on a window seat, Harry leaning against the wall beside him, the two of them looking like they've just started a conversation. 

Albus skids to a halt in front of them. "Dad," he says, "do you mind if I borrow Scorpius for a minute?" 

Harry lights up, grinning and shaking his head. "No. Nope, not at all. You two have a good chat." He claps his hands together, apparently with glee. "I might go and find some more canapés." He looks between the two of them, then puts a hand on Albus's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. "Hope the talk goes well." He nods at them both before walking away, a spring in his step.

Scorpius watches him go. "What was that about?" 

Albus shakes his head. "Nothing. Don't worry about it." He twists his hands together. "Do you mind if we go outside for a minute? It's a bit hot in here. And loud. And I wanted to talk to you about... About something."

Scorpius grins. "About something? Well that's very mysterious. I suppose I can come and talk about something with you." He picks his champagne glass up and gets to his feet. "Are you open for suggestions for topics of conversation, or did you have one in mind but aren't telling me?" 

"You're going to be difficult about this, aren't you?" Albus asks with a sigh. 

Scorpius links arms with him and gestures grandly with his champagne glass. "I am always difficult, Albus. Haven't you noticed that yet?" 

"I noticed an awfully long time ago," Albus says. "But I'm putting up with it. Come on." He gives Scorpius's arm a little tug and they set off out of the ballroom. As they go, Draco glances up and gives Albus a small nod. Albus responds with one of his own, then he takes a very deep breath and steels himself for what he's about to do.

 "This was my mum's clock," Scorpius says, standing in front of the mantelpiece in the library and looking at it. "She brought it with her when she and Dad moved in here. I think she got it from that antique shop in Diagon Alley and fixed it up herself." He smiles and adjusts the hands slightly. "It never kept time very well." 

Albus sits on the arm of the couch and watches him. He undoes the top button of his shirt, then fiddles with his cuffs. The ring box presses uncomfortably into his leg, and he fidgets with it, trying to loosen it without having to get it out. 

"Did you know," Scorpius continues, "it was made by a direct descendant of Helga Hufflepuff? I mean, how cool is that? Mum didn't know when she bought it. We found out later when someone came to the house to value some of my dad's stuff. It's got the badger on it and everything. Just here." He leans in close to the clock and points out a little engraving on the side. 

"Mum liked clocks. And time. I don't really know why, but she thought they were interesting. I think if she hadn't worked with Muggles she might have been in the Department of Mysteries. I don't think she liked the inevitability of time, but I think she liked thinking about ways to bend it, and twist it around. To defy it." He tilts his head sideways and looks at the clock face. 

Albus swallows and shuffles his feet on the floor. His mouth has gone very dry, and he feels like his jaw has locked in place. His mind is racing at a thousand miles an hour, words, words, and more words rushing by. But he doesn't know how to start saying any of them. Scorpius, however, doesn't seem to be able to stop talking. 

"I always think about that. At the New Year. How time is inevitable. You just get..." he waves an arm through the air. "Swept along in the tide. You know it's been years since she died? But it feels like no time at all. And it's been even longer since you and I met. Since we became friends." He turns and looks at Albus. "We've been together for so long. Like years and years. Isn't that weird? Good weird though. I like it, and I hope-"

"Marry me?" Albus asks. The question comes bursting out of him, like the pressure has been building inside him the whole time, and now the dam has burst and he can't hold it back. 

Scorpius blinks at him. "What?" 

Albus nods and gets to his feet, stepping forward. His hands are shaking now, and he feels like his knees might give way beneath him. His heart is hammering in his chest. He feels like he might throw up, but now he's started he can't stop. 

"I said, marry me." He walks up to Scorpius and looks into his stunned face. His eyes are round as silver Sickles, and flickering with reflected firelight. "You're right. We've been together for so long, and I never want it to stop. Time is turning, and we're getting older, and I still love you. I will love you. Always. For so many reasons." 

He swallows and takes hold of Scorpius's hands, looking down at the long, pale fingers. It's easier than looking at the still shocked expression on his face.

"You're bold, Scorpius. And you're brave, and you make me laugh like no one else does. You're a good -- the best -- person. And I love you. I think- I hope you know that." He glances up, then back down again, and he squeezes Scorpius's hands. 

"I've been in love with you for years, maybe even since the first time we met on the Hogwarts Express. Because I- well, I didn't stay for your sweets. I stayed for you. Because I'd never met anyone like you, and I still haven't. And-" He lets go of one of Scorpius's hands and pulls him round to look at the clock. "If your parents and my grandparents and all our adventures have taught me anything it's that you shouldn't waste time when there's something so important at stake. Because even a second wasted can feel like an entire lifetime at the end of the day."

"A-and look..." He sighs. "I know our work schedules are stupid, and not really conducive to married life- I only get to see you for five minutes some days, but you know what?" He looks up at Scorpius, in his stride now, confident, no longer afraid of what he might see in Scorpius's face. He can deal with the reaction later. For now he just needs to get this out. "Those are the best five minutes of my day. And I want to spend every single five minutes I have with you. I-I mean..." He ducks his head and rushes to clarify. "I'd like to spend quite a bit longer with you, really, and if there was some way to do that it would be amazing, but I know you have shifts and I have raids, and you love your job and I love mine, and don't get me wrong, you're an amazing Healer and I don't want to take that away from you. If it sounded like that's what this was about I didn't mean-"

"Albus?" Scorpius says finally, very softly. "You might want to shut up now."

Albus looks up, fear flooding like ice into his heart, but all in a rush he realises that Scorpius doesn't look annoyed or upset. He's grinning broadly, and his eyes are shining.

"Right," Albus says. "Okay. But I just wanted to-"

"Don't," Scorpius advises. Then, suddenly, Albus finds himself being thoroughly kissed. One of Scorpius's arms folds tightly round his waist, and the other hand ruffles through his hair. Albus clings to Scorpius like his life depends on it, hands clutching at the back of that green sweater, pulling him in closer. The kiss is pure, blissful relief. It isn't a yes, but it can hardly be a bad thing. If Scorpius still wants to kiss him after all those rambling words, and kiss him like this, hard enough to knock all the breath out of him and make him feel all hot and flustered, that must be good. 

When they break apart Scorpius's lips are parted as he catches his breath. His sweater is all ruffled, and the shirt he's wearing underneath is flapping out at the bottom. His cheeks are a soft rose colour, and there's a self-satisfied grin on his face. 

Albus holds onto the arm of the sofa for support and runs a hand through his hair. Scorpius has stolen everything from him with that kiss: his air, his words, his momentum. Now he just feels like he's floating. Dizzy, and stunned, and powerless. Waiting for Scorpius to take his hand and show him where they're going next with this. 

"You let me ramble for five minutes," Scorpius says, leaning against the couch, arms crossed, long legs stretched out in front of him, "about clocks, and that was what you were waiting to spring on me?" 

Albus shrugs defensively. "I didn't know where to start." 

Scorpius shakes his head. "You're something really special." He beams across at Albus. "Like, really special." He keeps looking, and his smile becomes smaller but somehow more intense, and Albus feels his cheeks heat up. 

"Okay," he says. "I'm glad you think so." 

"I'm quite lucky," Scorpius says, turning his head to one side and studying Albus. "Albus Severus Potter wants to marry me. It's like a dream come true." 

Albus swallows. "A-and... Do you want me to marry you? That's the important question." 

Scorpius gets to his feet and walks across the library. He stops right in front of Albus and looks down at the ground for a moment. Then he takes Albus's hands and nods. He meets Albus's eyes and smiles. "Yes. Of course I do. Of course I do. Yes. Yes and yes."

"Good," Albus says. "That's good." And it slowly starts to sink in. Like he's just drunk a gallon of Butterbeer, or sunk into a warm bath. From the tips of his toes, spreading through him like golden sunlight, right up to the top of his head. His heart feels like it might burst, and his cheeks are already starting to ache from smiling. "I suppose... That makes you my fiancé." 

Scorpius sinks onto the couch and grins up at him. "I suppose it does." He crosses his legs and nudges Albus's knee with his hand. "You didn't happen to do the thing properly and get me a ring, did you? Or is this all spontaneous and impulsive? I don't mind either way. Just curious." 

"I did do it properly," Albus says. "And I did get a ring." He fumbles in his pocket and pulls the box out. "Here. I hope it fits." 

Scorpius holds his hand out, and examines the ring as Albus slides it onto his finger. "It's warm! It's beautiful. The emerald is perfect. It looks like my mum's..." He glances up at Albus and Albus nods.

"It's the same design. A bit different, but- It has Felix Felicis in it. And a spell, for a long and happy life. Your dad let me borrow your mum's ring, so I could get one similar to it."

Scorpius looks up. "Did he?"

Albus nods. "I came and asked him a couple of weeks ago, if I was allowed to propose to you. And he gave it to me then. I-I went and visited your mum's grave as well. I couldn't ask her, but I thought I should at least see her first, you know?"

Scorpius stares at him. "See, this is why I'm marrying you. Because you're amazing."

Albus grins and takes his hand. "I'm very glad you think so."

"I really do think so," Scorpius says. He looks down and turns his hand over, so the ring glitters in the firelight as he examines it. "Well, thank Dumbledore everyone we know is downstairs, because I want to show this off to them all immediately. Do you mind if we-?" He gestures toward the door. 

Albus shakes his head. "Not at all. If we stay up here any longer our parents might come and break down the door." 

Scorpius hops to his feet. "Let's not keep them waiting then."

 They slip back into the ballroom. Albus feels giddy with happiness. He's clutching Scorpius's hand and he can't stop grinning. As they move around the edge of the crowd and stop by the drinks table, Scorpius turns back to Albus, and Albus leans his head on Scorpius's shoulder. They twist their hands and arms tighter together, holding on to each other, and that's when their parents arrive. 

Harry and Draco burst through the crowd, Ginny following behind, looking like she wants to smile but doesn't dare do it too soon. 

"Hi, Dad," Scorpius says, giving Draco a bright smile. "Are you okay?" 

"What did you say?" Harry asks, hands outstretched, looking desperately between the two of them. "How did it go?" 

They glance at each other, and Scorpius squeezes Albus's hand. Albus ducks his head and grins.

"He said yes." 

There's an explosion of noise. Harry punches the air and turns to Ginny who finally unleashes her smile and rushes forward. Draco sags in relief, then steps forward and engulfs both Albus and Scorpius in a tight hug. It doesn't take long until the two of them are surrounded by people. Harry and Ginny hug them both, then James leaps on Albus and starts ruffling his hair. Rose and Lily follow, and then the whole party seems to be pressing in on them, shaking their hands and congratulating them. 

From somewhere Draco unearths the most expensive bottle of champagne yet and starts handing glasses round. Through the crowd of people Albus can see his parents hugging and beaming at each other, and at him. He watches as Draco goes up to Harry and hands him a glass, then extends a hand. 

"I suppose we're doomed to be family now, Potter. It's a shame, but I think it's unavoidable, and at least they're happy." 

Harry grins and shakes his hand. "You'll get used to it." 

"I'm not sure I will," Draco replies. "I do want to make one thing clear though. Scorpius is my only child, whereas you have three children, so I will be financing this affair. I hope that's acceptable." 

Harry holds his hands up in surrender. "Whatever makes you happy, Draco." 

Scorpius nudges Albus gently in the ribs and leans in to whisper in his ear. "I told you, he's trying to spend my entire inheritance on parties." 

Albus laughs and hugs Scorpius round the middle. 

 They don't get any room to breathe until ten minutes to midnight. At that point, thankfully, Ron yells for everyone to go outside and get ready for the fireworks. 

"I thought I was going to suffocate," Scorpius murmurs, as the crowd starts heading for the door. 

"I've never had so much attention in my life," Albus agrees. "Do you want me to summon your gloves? It's freezing out there." 

"And hide my beautiful ring?" Scorpius pulls a face of mock contempt. "No thank you. You'll just have to hold my hands to keep them warm." 

Albus grins. "I think I can do that." 

They Accio their coats and scarves to them, and pull them on as they head out into the back garden. It's pitch black outside, apart from the twinkling of hundreds of Scorpius's silver lights, which are scattered through the bare bushes and trees by the rose garden. 

"Did I mention," Albus says, gesturing to them. "You did a beautiful job with the decorating." 

"How did you know it was me?" Scorpius asks, although he looks immensely pleased with himself. 

Albus shrugs. "I'd know your magic anywhere. If you ever committed a crime I'd know in a second. It just... feels like you." 

"Well," Scorpius says. "I suppose I'd better not commit any crimes then. Not unless I kill you first." He nudges Albus in the ribs, and Albus nudges him back. It turns into a minor shoving contest, which Albus ends by tickling Scorpius until he's almost crying with laughter as he begs for mercy. 

"I might change my mind," Scorpius says, drawing himself up with great dignity once Albus has released him. "About marrying you, if you're going to torture me like that." 

"You poor thing," Albus grins "You have such a hard time with your evil boyfriend." 

"Fiancé," Scorpius corrects. 

"Fiancé," Albus echoes, squeezing Scorpius's hand. 

"Do you fancy getting away from all these people?" Scorpius asks. "It'll be quieter on the other side of the garden, and we'll still see the fireworks. I think I want you all to myself for a bit."

"Alright," Albus says. After the madness of the ballroom and everyone's excitement, the idea of escaping for a bit is an amazing one.

They skirt through the rose bushes, following the trails of lights Scorpius has laced along every path. Surrounded by the hedges it's now difficult to hear the bubbling chatter of their friends and family. There's something about being in here, cut off from everyone else by the wall of branches and thorns, set on an inescapable series of paths by the hedges, surrounded and guided, that feels comforting to Albus. Even in the Triwizard maze he'd felt oddly safe. Amongst hedges every corner feels like an opportunity to make a different choice, follow a different path, to lose someone, or find someone. He's always loved the rose garden at the Manor for that reason, and even though at the moment the hedges are bare and stark, in a few months' time they'll be bursting with flowers, and it will be one of the most beautiful places in the grounds. 

They come to a stop at the heart of the rose garden, and Albus sits on one of the slightly damp stone benches, while Scorpius draws his wand. He casts a time-keeping charm, and golden numerals glow in the air in front of them, counting down to the new year. 

"I think it's been a good year," Scorpius says, watching the seconds tick by. "It certainly finished strong." 

Albus smiles and braces his hands on the bench, leaning forward. "I've enjoyed it. I hope next year lives up to it." 

"I don't know about you," Scorpius says, turning to face him. "But I'm going to a wedding next year, and I'm rather looking forward to it. It could make my whole year." 

Albus gets to his feet and draws his wand. "Funny," he says with a smile. "I was invited to the same one." He turns to one of the rose bushes and waves his wand in a circle. A single yellow bud grows from one of the bare stems, then blossoms into life. "Here's to..." he picks the flower off the branch and holds it out to Scorpius. "A new year, and a new chapter of our lives." 

Scorpius twirls the flower between his fingers, then tucks it behind his ear and wraps his arms round Albus's waist. "To Albus and Scorpius." 

"I think it's going to be a good year," Albus says, leaning into Scorpius's embrace.

"Me too," Scorpius agrees, brushing his fingers through Albus's hair

They hold onto each other and watch the final seconds of the year dwindle, and at midnight -- as Ron's fireworks send cascades of sparks into the sky, lighting the darkness in gold and red and blue and green and silver -- they kiss. 

Albus melts into the feeling of Scorpius's soft lips on his, the warm metal of the ring resting against his neck where Scorpius's firm hands are holding him steady. He closes his eyes, so the fireworks are just vague bursts of colour in the darkness. Explosions, distant cheers, and the quiet hitch of his own breath are all he hears, as he loses himself in contentment. If you're supposed to start a year as you mean to go on, this is a good way to do it, and Albus doesn't think he's looked forward to the future this much in his entire life. This is, most definitely, going to be a really good year.