#you understood the assignment quill

[silverskye13]

the godawful hels-mirror of helsknight being a growing force, fighting with vigor and pale hair and freckles to EB's slowly dimming star. a frustrating reminder that hels would continue once EB did not. a fresh face full of poetry and naive notions of honor. desperate to prove himself in the way of children longing to be taken seriously.

and EB watching, now sure of himself and his place in the world, no longer vying for life, helpless to do any more than return the favor as helsknight's hair dulled and his poetic faded into raging impotence. a burning need to prove himself in the way of dying men clawing at the world desperate to leave a mark of their existence.

And the universe said: I feel nothing for you, for you came from nothing

[confused-stars]

honestly, as much as i detest the mcu, i somehow do find myself drawn in by any Peter Quill content that does not feature the crisp rat playing him

[mirclealignr]

—hard work’s pay off

hermione granger x slytherin!reader

—this was a request from ages ago. lol.

hermione granger—studious, diligent and, supposedly, the brightest witch of her age. but it wasn’t all this glitz and glam that drew you to the frizzy-haired gryffindor.

it started in first year, when you discovered she was so painfully easy to wind up. it could be something as small as whispering when the professor was talking or something as large as deliberately making it seem as if you were trying to copy her work.

it was so easy it almost became addictive. but also as you grew older and your interests changed, it wasn’t solely just about driving her round the bend. it became an excuse to talk to her, to see her flustered and her cheeks glow rosy.

“granger, granger, granger,” you sighed teasingly, sitting in your assignee seat beside her. “i heard you got a ‘poor’ in charms the other week, slacking are we?”

“what?!” hermione was appalled. who would spread such vicious, baseless lies about her? “that’s outrageous!”

“but not an ‘outstanding’. in fact it’s shocking,” you cut in with a smirk before she could carry on.

she was red up to her ears but slowly calming down as she began to realise you were only teasing, as usual. she seethed silently, turning her head away before taking a deep breath—she couldn’t let you get to her.

“whatever.”

you laughed, “you believed me for a moment there, didn’t you, granger?”

“well, in regards to one’s reputation, one can’t be too careful,” hermione said, holding her head high.

“oh don’t get all diplomatic on me. i got you good.”

hermione was now exercising the tried and tested method of the silent treatment. she was particularly well versed in this skill but you knew there was one thing she could not stand—quill scratching. it was the wizard from of clicking a pen incessantly, except it consisted of scratching a dry quill against parchment. hermione hated it.

“will you stop that?!” she groaned, almost catching the attention of professor snape, if it weren’t for seamus finnigan setting fire to half of his essay.

you giggled, carrying on with your assignment, at least for a little while. still, you caught small glances of hermione in the corner of your eye, you were drawn to her and you couldn’t help but to look. she was still scowling, scribbling away furiously, writing every idea that came to mind with perfect fluency.

“don’t frown, granger,” you smirked, stretching your arms. “you’re much prettier when you smile.”

“merlin’s beard, y/n, i’m trying to concentrate.”

“just one smile?” you teased.

hermione looked at you through her peripheral vision, scrunching her eyebrows together. “you’re flirting with me,” she stated, for she was a clever girl and did not need to ask.

you chuckled lightly, “do you want me to stop?”

she tucked her arms into herself, awkwardly looking between you and her work before scribbling away again, refusing to answer and play into such schemes. she didn’t say another word for the rest of the lesson and you didn’t bother her again, sensing she was better left alone.

when professor snape dismissed the lot of you, hermione found herself desperate to respond to your previous question but too nervous to give a definitive answer, even if she already knew what that answer was.

“i haven’t decided,” she stated plainly, hugging her books to her chest.

“haven’t decided what?” you asked.

“if i want you to stop flirting,” she rushed, cheeks glowing with blush.

“well that’s not a no.”

“it’s not a yes,” she countered, turning on her heels and storming away.

“still not a no!” you shouted after her, smirking.

all your years of hard work were finally paying off. hermione was finally giving into you. it didn’t matter if no one else understood your infatuation with her, it didn’t bother you in the slightest. you hadn’t a care, but for hermione granger.

“i don’t know why you bother with her,” pansy shook her head, walking with you to lunch.

“the same way i don’t know why you bother with malfoy. we have our reasons,” you rolled your eyes, linking arms with your friend. “she’s coming around,” you winked.

i don’t have a tag list but if you’d like to be notified when i post, follow @mirclesjournal and turn post notifications on!

[rosesareredrosa]

Show You How Much I Care

Lorenzo Berkshire x fem reader

Summary: Little things Lorenzo does to show y/n how much he cares

w/c: 1069

Lorenzo Berkshire, the charming and enigmatic member of the Slytherin crew, had always had a knack for reading people. Yet, when it came to Y/N, a girl who seemed to shine with an inner light, he found himself captivated. Unlike many others at Hogwarts, Y/N was genuine and kind, navigating the social landscape with refreshing authenticity. Lorenzo admired her from afar and, over time, felt a growing desire to show her how much he cared.

The Care Package

One day, after overhearing Y/N mention her struggles with schoolwork, Lorenzo decided to help. He discreetly gathered a selection of books and notes that could aid her studies. Alongside these, he added a few of her favorite snacks—a small detail he had picked up from observing her during meals.

That evening, Y/N returned to her dormitory to find a basket waiting for her. Inside was a note written in Lorenzo's neat handwriting:

"For the times when things get tough. Take care, Y/N. - Enzo"

Y/N felt a warm flush spread across her cheeks as she read the note. She had always seen Lorenzo as the laid-back, cool member of his group, but this thoughtful gesture revealed a depth she hadn't expected. It was a small act, but it showed that he had been paying attention and cared about her well-being.

The Potions Class Incident

During a challenging Potions class, Professor Snape assigned the students a complex potion requiring precise timing and careful handling. Y/N, who generally enjoyed Potions, found herself unusually nervous, fumbling with the ingredients. She glanced at her notes, trying to recall the exact sequence, but her anxiety clouded her memory.

Lorenzo, at the next table, noticed her distress. He watched as she hesitated, holding a vial of powdered unicorn horn uncertainly. Understanding the importance of timing, Lorenzo quietly tapped his quill on the edge of her table, a subtle signal they had developed for moments like this.

Y/N looked over, catching his eye. Lorenzo gave a slight nod, glancing at the clock. She understood and added the powder just as the potion turned the right shade of blue. Lorenzo continued to help subtly, passing her a vial of powdered moonstone when she realized she was running low and mouthing a reminder about the temperature adjustment.

As the class ended, Professor Snape evaluated their potions. He paused at Y/N's cauldron, inspecting the brew with his usual critical eye. "Adequate," he muttered, a rare compliment from him.

Relieved, Y/N turned to Lorenzo as they packed up. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I was so nervous."

Lorenzo smiled, a warm, reassuring look in his eyes. "You had it. Just needed a bit of confidence."

Y/N couldn't help but smile back. His quiet support had been comforting, making her feel seen and valued.

The Herbology Lesson

Later, during a particularly tricky Herbology lesson, Y/N struggled with a difficult plant. Lorenzo, who had a surprising knack for Herbology, noticed her frustration and stayed behind after class.

"Need a hand?" he asked, offering a friendly smile.

Surprised, Y/N nodded. Lorenzo patiently guided her through the process, showing her the correct technique. Under his calm guidance, the plant responded, and Y/N felt a wave of relief and accomplishment.

"Thanks, Lorenzo," she said, grateful for his help.

He shrugged modestly. "Anytime. Can't let you struggle alone."

As the days passed, Y/N couldn't help but notice all the little things Lorenzo did for her. He'd save her a seat in the library, offer to carry her books when they were headed in the same direction, and even conjured a small bouquet of flowers during a particularly rough day. These small acts of kindness were so thoughtful and consistent that she found herself wondering why he was doing them. Was it just his nature, or was there something more?

The Astronomy Night

Knowing Y/N's love for the stars, Lorenzo planned a special surprise. One clear night, he invited her for a walk. They ended up at the Astronomy Tower, where he had set up a blanket and a small telescope.

As they lay under the stars, Lorenzo pointed out constellations and shared stories. His effort to create this moment touched Y/N deeply, revealing a thoughtful and caring side she had come to cherish.

"Lorenzo, this is wonderful," Y/N said, moved by his gesture. "Thank you."

He smiled, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it."

Y/N felt warmth spread through her. She hesitated, then asked the question that had been on her mind. "Why do you do all these things for me, Lorenzo?" she asked softly, turning to look at him directly. "You've been so kind and attentive... it's more than anyone's ever done for me."

Lorenzo paused, his expression thoughtful. He met her gaze, his eyes sincere. "Because you matter to me, Y/N," he began, his voice gentle but firm. "I've seen how kind and genuine you are, and I admire that. I wanted to show you that someone appreciates you for who you are, not just for what you do or what house you're in. And... because I care about you. A lot."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I know I'm not the best with words or grand gestures, but I believe in showing my feelings through actions. That's why I wanted to show you how much I care, in my own way. Whether it's helping you in Potions, making sure you have what you need, or just spending time together like this. It's all because I want you to know you're special to me."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words. There was a sincerity in his voice that made her believe every word. She felt a mix of emotions—surprise, joy, and a deep warmth she couldn't quite describe.

She reached out, taking his hand. "I had no idea," she admitted, her voice soft. "But... I'm glad. I appreciate everything you've done. It means more than you know."

They sat there, hand in hand, under the vast night sky. Lorenzo's quiet, thoughtful actions had finally come to light, revealing the depth of his feelings. It wasn't about grand declarations or dramatic actions; it was about the little things that showed he genuinely cared. And in that moment, under the stars, Y/N realized just how much Lorenzo meant to her, too.

[nerdy-and-dedicated]

Come And Get Your Love (Roquill Fanfic)

So this came about after a conversation I had with my bestie @inubaki91. It does contain spoilers for GOTG3, so keep that in mind. Anyway, I hope you like it.

Rating: Teen

Peter sat on the roof, staring up at the night sky. He found himself doing this a lot lately, hoping that a certain someone would land in the yard. Each time Quill would wait until one in the morning and be met with the same disappointment. The man understood that his super hot boyfriend was busy saving the galaxy but still wished he had found the time to visit. It was approaching eleven, and Peter considered calling it an early night. Rocket hadn’t shown up for the past two months, so why should this time be any different? Still, Peter waited, despite his gut telling him it was pointless. Quill remained for two more hours before making his way down the ladder. After putting it away, he headed back towards the house and saw the most heavenly sight. Leaning against the sliding backdoor was his boyfriend dressed in his guardians’ uniform. The man couldn’t contain himself as he ran up to Rocket and scooped him up in his arms. As tears fell from his eyes, Peter kissed the raccoon deeply. When they pulled away, Quill rested their foreheads together and smiled.

  “Take it you missed me, Baby Boo?”

 “You have no idea.”

 “I’m sorry. I wanted to visit sooner, but our latest assignment was a pain in the ass.”

 “I get it, Rocky. It just means you have to make it up to me.” Pete flirted.

 “Oh~ And how can I do that?”

  Peter just smirked as he carried his fluffy raccoon to his room. He closed the door before laying Rocket down on the bed. He leaned over him and passionately kissed his boyfriend. Quill wanted to take this lovingly slow as he didn’t know when Rocket would return. Despite how impatient he knew the raccoon could be, the man wanted to savour the moment. Peter moaned softly, feeling Rocket claw at his scalp and grind against him. The man looked down at his boyfriend and smiled wider. The racoon looked so adorable underneath him. He honestly couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Rocket in his life. Peter never thought he would experience this kind of happiness, especially after Gamora. Yet here he was, making out with the most amazing person ever. Rocket was there for him during his darkest moment and cared for him during so many drunken nights. He really didn’t deserve him.

  “Petey, you’re staring again.” Rocket moaned.

 “Can’t help it. You’re just that handsome.”

 “If you think I’m that handsome, why don’t you hurry up and fuck me?”

 Peter gave Rocket a quick kiss. “With pleasure.”

 🦝💕🌟

 To say Peter was sore would be a bit of an understatement. While it was definitely the good kind, he had to remind Rocket to file down his claws for next time. Quill didn’t need to see his back to know what kind of state it was in. The man honestly forgot how wild the raccoon could get in bed and was surprised they didn’t wake his grandpa from the amount of noise they made. The man turned to the sleeping Rocket and watched him for a few minutes. It was honestly nice to see the raccoon so peaceful and relaxed. Peter stroked his boyfriend’s cheek and kissed his forehead before collecting his pyjamas and showering. After getting cleaned up, Pete examined the damage done to him. As suspected, his upper back was covered in scratches, with his shoulders and neck littered with bites and hickeys. Getting dressed in his clothes, Pete hoped that his grandpa didn’t notice the state of his exposed skin. He headed towards the kitchen and was greeted by said man in the small dining area. Jason had already gotten out all he needed for his usual breakfast.

  “Mornin’ Pete. Sleep well?”

 “I guess so….”

 “Another late night?”

 Peter nodded as he sat down and poured himself a bowl of Corn Pops.

 “I know you’re a grown man, but please try to go to bed earlier. I don’t like seein’ the bags under your eyes.”

 “I’ll try, but no guarantees.”

  Peter appreciated his grandpa’s concern for his well-being, but it was necessary. The man had more pressing matters to worry about, especially with his old age. Still, it was great that he cared. The two men sat in comfortable silence for a bit, just enjoying each other presence. Quill took a few bites of his cereal before Jason spoke.

  “Shirley from next door wants to know if you can mow her lawn today.”

 “I can, but why can’t Michael do it?”

 “Don’t know, didn’t ask.”

 “I mean, if she needs help mowing her lawn, I’ll do it, but I kinda feel like her son should help.”

 “Don’t get me started, okay?”

 Peter put another spoonful in his mouth. “Well, now I kinda want to know…”

 “Know about what, Baby Boo?”

  Quill froze as he watched his boyfriend climb onto the third chair and steal his breakfast. Rocket was dressed in nothing but Peter’s grey T-shirt. Well, it was more like a nightgown than a shirt on the raccoon, but still adorable regardless. When his brain started working again, he turned towards his grandpa, who was just staring at the anthropomorphic animal across from him.

 “Take a picture. It’ll last longer, old man.”

 “Rocket, be nice.”

 “Hard to be when it’s morning and your cereal sucks.”

 “There’s a trash can outside if you’d prefer that,” Jason mumbled.

 “Sorry, the only trash I like to eat is your grandson.”

 “Oh my god, Rocket!!” Peter exclaimed. “Stop!!”

  Quill really didn’t want to have this kind of conversation so early in the morning. Or in front of his grandfather. Yet the old man had remained entirely calm throughout the whole interaction. At least it seemed that way when Jason folded his paper and left the table. Peter thought that was the end of it until he heard his grandfather call out from the living room.

  “Just make sure the sheet are clean by midday. I don’t want this house smelling like sex.”

 “You heard us?”

 “Pete, the whole neighbourhood heard you. I just wished you had introduced me to your weird boyfriend before I did.”

 The younger man chuckled nervously. “We were trying to be quiet.”

 “Didn’t sound like it,” Jason stated.

 Rocket started laughing.

 “Next time, we’re doing it on the ship.”

[i-drew-a-dog]

More Doctor Who confusion I guess

There's a lot in the last few episodes of Doctor Who that I don't really get?

The dust? Everyone gets dusted in 2024. They go to 2046 everyone is STILL dusted but now there's DNA data. How did they gather the DNA if everyone was killed in 2024??? Did Sutek dust everyone simultaneously?? Like all throughout time?? What???

The time window? We are told it's rudimentary and they "only saw the colour of the quill that signed the declaration of independence" but it's monochrome? You didn't see the colour of it?? Also it's all holograms and yet they treat it as if it's real? Why do they have guns?? Why is everyone afraid?

The snow? Why does Ruby have this power? I know we've established that her mum is some Eldrich being through the power of believing in her or some shit but why can Ruby do that? Also can every foster kid do that? If so that's really funny.

Suteks death? Why did dragging him around behind the TARDIS and smashing him into space potholes like some mafia hit kill him when literally sending him through time to the moment of his death didn't work?

Idk if these are pointless questions but the writing recently has just been overall baffling to me. Out of this whole season, I think the only episode I genuinely enjoyed was Rogue because it was just taking the piss out of Bridgerton the style of that big brother episode back in 2004. It was fun and understood the assignment of a silly villain that still posed a threat.

I know the vibe in the fandom is always "the worst Dr who writer is the current Dr who writer" but I haven't really enjoyed this season as much as I thought I would when they announced Russel was coming back.

Rewatching Bad Wolf is just a slap in the face after this like what happened??

Sorry for the rambles but idk I just have a lot of thoughts about this season but the fandom seems to be in the "look at all the references to old who" phase

[snapeaddict]

Dearest friend

It was late, but not as late as it was when she usually looked up from her desk to notice how many hours had passed since she had started grading papers. The clock had not even struck half-past ten, she gave it a perplexed look, trying to understand why she felt as if she had just been pulled out of her routine despite sitting alone and undisturbed in the silence of her living room. Perhaps it was the silence itself; she had always graded her papers in the staff room on Saturday nights, and students, ghosts and paintings formed a familiar, soothing jabber she was used to hearing there. There was nothing like that in her tower, which she used to enjoy very much; but now, alone with the ticking of her clock, she found herself longing for that never-ending chatter. It was why she had deserted the staff room. Now, no matter the hour, no matter how many children were roaming the corridors, all was always terribly silent, and that silence was only ever broken by the consistent ringing of the bell and military-like footsteps. This sounded nothing like Hogwarts; she felt alienated. It was like looking at a beloved, familiar face and seeing nothing but foreign traits, being unable to understand why and how the muscles of that face moved, to decipher any kind of feeling behind the once friendly eyes – to see nothing at all. 

No need for metaphors. Severus carried out the task very well: he personified that silence with formidable charisma.

She looked down at her papers again. She had been grading them inattentively, with the kind of automatic skills that years of practice and a recurring lesson within the curriculum could afford a teacher – thank Merlin for small mercies. However, the paragraph she was now reading, written in shaky handwriting by a first-year student who clearly had not used many quills in the past, was absolutely mind-boggling. She could not quite pinpoint what had been going on in that boy’s brain, most likely he hadn’t had the time to proofread his essay, but that spelling mistake was unfortunate, especially in that context, and it was only because he was a first-year that she was ready to believe it was an innocent error. 

So she understood. That was why everything had felt so out of place all of a sudden: this right here was funny, and a part of her must have felt like laughing, but that too felt foreign, so here she was, wondering what was wrong. And it was as simple as that. Something was triggering a long-forgotten instinct, that of laughing, and she could not entirely process it, because she usually shared the funny student mistakes with someone. And they laughed about it together, in the staff room, on Saturday nights.

She felt that the stream of her thoughts was about to continue. She feared what reason would tell her; she precipitately took out her wand, duplicated the essay, put it aside, sat down again, went on to the next paper. At the end of the school year, there was a good chunk of assignments on that pile – all hilarious or terrible mistakes, answers and witty remarks from her students. That pile of papers only existed for those moments of timeless nostalgia she desperately needed to indulge in, and she kept on adding to it, arranging it in a neat stack, hiding it in one of her drawers. She could never open it without feeling the simultaneous burn of shame, guilt, anger, and past friendship.

-

There was a thin line between demonstrations of power and vulnerability. If you gave the impression that you were never around, if people started thinking perhaps all power had been relegated to your right hands, then you and the entire fragile ecosystem you were the centre of would be targeted by reinvigorated rebels; if, on the contrary, you were seen too often, you would become just as much of a target, and risk exposure. Severus was not meant to lead – in fact, his whole life had been spent creating a persona that could fake an innate sense of authority with simple but masterly use of demeanour and voice. Suddenly all that careful work fell into pieces, and he was thrown into a new system of hierarchy on whose preservation countless lives, and the outcome of the war, depended. There would be no use in trying to depict the mental state of the newly appointed headmaster; the dichotomy between inner and outer selves was such that doing so would certainly spark a literary debate on the theme of vraisemblance. Severus thus proceeded as he usually did in times of crisis, shutting down all emotions, putting on a familiar mask of indifference, scheduling his appearances in the corridors and Great Hall with care and repressed anxiety. His face became accustomed to the tension; it grew around his facial muscles as quickly as warm water freezes in the cold of winter.

Strangely, it was not the moments of intense pressure and unspeakable horrors that had, more than once, endangered his carefully crafted composure. It was, in fact, his rounds in the corridors: he sometimes crossed paths with unfortunate students who, because he was especially skilled at moving quietly, never heard him coming. There were a few seconds during which they kept on talking – even in situations of crisis, teenagers can be insouciant, if only to cope with reality. Thus Severus found himself interrupting many a conversation which were not of the highest intellectual standard. Many times he felt the shadow of an ironic smile on his lips, the taste of a sarcastic remark on his tongue: these were always followed by a vertiginous sense of estrangement from everything that surrounded him. By this time the students had spotted him and deserted the place, or they were waiting, terror-stricken, wondering what would come next. There Severus would have to compose himself, and the effort drained him in a way he could never fully explain. Often, when the students had left, he felt the urge to look over his shoulder, ready to mock the conversation he had overhead once more; then he was very still; and, finally, painfully, he kept on walking.

So he kept a list. It was cathartic, and he enjoyed the puzzled look on Albus’ painted face when he responded to him that this was a ‘private matter’. Very neatly, in the manner of the Domesday book, which is to say in a very organized fashion, he wrote down the silliest bits of conversations and remarks from students, sometimes adding comments in the margin such as ‘typical’, ‘6 years of education wasted. Glad I am not the one having to meet them for their orientation session’ or the occasional ‘colourful. To keep on hand in case of a meeting with the minister.’ In contrast to every other aspect of his life, from material matters to the most existential ones, he did not plan what to do with this parchment; he filled it carefree; it sat in one of his desk’s drawers that May evening.

It only left its place to be covered in remorseful tears, but the pile of essays in Minerva’s drawer remained desperately still.

[sharksscripting]

Amorentia || Severus Snape x F!Hufflepuff Reader

Chapter Four || Prey

Word Count: 1393

Includes: Masturbation

The next morning you wake up dizzy and confused, when standing you tumble over. Instantly Cedric runs over to your side of the dorm and helps you up.

"[First Name]? What happened?" He gazes over your body checking for some kind of injury, yet, he can't see under your night robes where the stitches are.

"I'm fine, Cedric, thank you." You say then try to pry his hands off your shoulder but fail.

"You don seem fine. You just fell over!" Cedric exclaims.

"I am fine." You snap, his hands fall from your shoulder blades.

"Alright, just be careful, yeah?" He asks and you can see the concern on his face.

You nod then pick up your bag to leave for class, that is when you got an owl. You recognize it as Professor Snape's owl so you take the letter from the birds talons and read it.

'Ms. [Last Name], you missed your class yesterday afternoon so I would like you to come now to make it up. -S.S'

The letter made it very apparent that he needed you to appear almost instantly, you sigh at the letter then grab you bag and leave the Hufflepuff dorms for his classroom.

Eventually you reach the room in the dungeons, it's a long walk from the high tower that holds the Hufflepuff's but since the hallways aren't as crowded as they usually are you were able to make it there in just under 7 minutes.

You know on the door then open it.

"Professor? I got your letter." You say as you enter the room. Instantly his eyes connect with yours, his dark and emotionless eyes staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Sit." He motions to the chair you were in when you got the stitches just days ago.

You obey his command instantly as you sit on the other side of his desk, he then hands you the paper that you missed yesterday.

"Notes on the Anti-Paralysis potion the class brewed, write how you made it and what was used." He instructs.

You nod then begin to write on the parchment he gave you, now the only sounds in the room was the occasional sound of the rain outside and the scratch of your quill connected with the ink jar then paper.

Around 20 minutes later you've completed the small assignment and you pass it back to him.

"I'm done, Professor."

He nods and takes the paper, his eyes quickly scans over the words before he nods approvingly.

"Outstanding once again, Ms. [Last Name]." He states then uses a quill to mark the paper.

You instantly smile then feel the sudden rush of desire again, you can't help but push your thighs together tightly to surpress the feeling. In the process your skirt flares up and you swear he saw your black laced underwear.

"I knew it was right to put you in the double excelled class." He says, his gaze completely hyper focused on the paper you submitted to him. You can't help but notice a bit of pink tinting his cheeks. He clears his throat then speaks again.

"Would you like to get started on your classwork for later today?"

"To get ahead of everyone, sir?" You blurt out.

His face deadpans but nods, "If that's how you wish to phrase it, Ms. [Last Name]."

"Oh! Yes, I would then.. sir.." You smile weakly.

He nods then opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a piece of the paper and hands it to you.

"Were learning about the wolfsbane potion for the double advanced class. Start it now, you have 20 minutes before you have to leave, understood?"

You begin the work and through the work you can't help but to glance up at Professor Severus Snape—ever since you realized what the potion has done you've been wanting to be closer and closer to him. And now is just perfect. You're alone with him in his classroom.

You lock eyes with him for a slim second, you instantly feel the wetness rush back to your core again, you squirm slightly in the seat across from him, pushing your thighs together again. You continue to work on the piece of parchment before you in an attempt to distract yourself when he speaks.

"20 minutes are up, Ms. [Last Name]." He says, his voice making you snap out of your distracting thoughts.

"Would you like me to hold onto the paper for you?"

You nod then hand him the paper, when he reaches for it your hands brush for a slim second. You flush then quickly turn your heel.

"I'll see you later, Professor." You mumble as you leave the room, you swear he didn't hear you but when you look back you see his eyes following you as you exit.

Once you're out of the room you realize it's still early in the morning—around 6am. You still have around 30 minutes before your first class starts. So, of course you decide to run to the same bathroom as you did the day prior.

Rushing to the last stall again you check the stalls—making sure no one else was there you grin successfully as you do. Once you lock the stall door you place your bag on the small hook on the door then take out your wand. Once the wand is out you use a quick spell on the toilet paper, transferring it into a black vibrator. It had a smaller part that rubs against your clit, the larger side that slides deep into your folds. You grin widely, the wetness that had been building up since you saw him—the absolute pressure that has been building since then needs to release. You grab another role from the toilet paper holder and transfigure it into a small lube bottle, you quickly uncap the bottle then pour some onto your hand, lathering it on the toy your smirk grows, the anticipation brewing deep within you. Throwing your laced panties down a cold gush of wind flows through your folds, it makes you whimper. Sliding the toy into your tight heat you let out a loud moan. Clicking the small button on the end of the toy it begins to move, sending waves of pleasure ringing throughout your entire body, moans practically flood out of your mouth as you increase the speed on the vibrator. Your thighs and legs quiver as you continue to stand whilst the toy rubs against you fast, throwing your hands to the side of the stall walls to support yourself your thighs shake. You look around in a sex-haze for another object you can transfigure to truly satisfy yourself. Your eyes land on an empty roll of toilet paper, you shrug then use your wand to transform it into nipple clamps connected by a chain.

Quickly you clamp the toy to your hard nubs and moan.

"Severus!" You shout as you release in your panties. The vibrator keeps moving, overstimulating your used clit. You tighten the clamps around your nipples as you push the vibrator to the maximum speed, desperate to cum again.

As you moan you finally sit back down on the toilet, your legs quaking as you feel the sensation building in your core again. With the very thought of your teacher you squirt again, your liquids starts flooding down your shaking thighs. Your moans ring throughout the stall, filling your ears with the sounds of your squelching cunt and whimpers.

"O-Oh god!" You shout as the feeling of the vibrator makes you feel more pleasure, quickly you push the toy deeper into your tight pussy, moaning louder than before.

Finally you finish for a third time, unclasping the nipple clamps you grunt, they're still hard. You slide the vibrator out of your folds then use a spell to return it back to the toilet paper it was before, you do the same with the lube bottle and clamps before cleaning yourself with a flick of your wand.

Glancing at the watch on your arm you see you've skipped your first class of the day! You've never missed a class before, let alone for something like masturbating to your teacher. Quickly you leave the stall and begin to run to your next class—Ancient Runes.

Chapter Five:

[amberlynnmurdock]

New Love, New Haven

Chapter Fourteen: The First Time

Pairing: Benjamin Tallmadge x Original Female Character

Summary: Upon realizing Ben's letter never got to Sadie, he pays her a visit before Thanksgiving break.

A/N: WOW it's been too long since I've updated this fic! I love writing this fic so much, I haven't forgotten it <3 next chapter will have a huge time jump! Thank you for reading!! <3

WARNINGS: 18+ content, smut, losing virginity, eating out

Wethersfield 1773 

Ben sat patiently at the large wooden desk in his classroom, waiting for his students to arrive. Sometimes a student or two came early but most of the time they walked in late. Ben wasn’t hard on them—he remembers very fondly arriving late to class with Nathan and feeling the glares from his professors. He didn’t want his students to feel the way he did. He wanted them to feel welcomed. He didn’t want them to feel defined by tardiness. And he especially didn’t want to rush any of his lessons.

It was a brisk fall day. Leaves were starting to fall. Today was the last day of the semester, and next week he’d be leaving for Thanksgiving. He organized today’s assignment and wrote on the chalkboard. Friday, November 19th, 1773. Today’s lesson: Latin. As Ben finished writing on the board, he smiled to himself. Latin. A memory flashed in his mind: the very first night he met Sadie and she spoke Latin to him: nemo saltat sobrius. He chuckled softly, played with the piece of chalk in his hand. He missed her. 

And upon realization, Ben’s gaze fell—it had been a while since he heard from Sadie. Concern settled over him, until the door to his classroom opened abruptly, and in came one of his students, named Joel. 

“Good morning, Mr. Joel. How are we today?” Ben clapped his hands together and looked at the young boy. Joel straightened in his chair and brought out a book from his bag. 

“Ready for today’s lesson, Mistah Tallmadge,” Joel’s high-pitched voice spoke. He placed his hands on top of his book. 

“Very well,” Ben smiled, holding his hands behind his back. More students trickled in, each finding their respective seats. Ben waited as each of them settled down and brought their books out. Each desk was lined with a pot of ink and a quill. When everyone was finally settled, Ben cleared his throat. 

“How many of you are familiar with the Latin language?” Ben proposed to the class, hands behind his back. He paced back and forth slowly, waiting for a lucky duck to raise his hand. 

A small boy in the back of the classroom raised his hand. It was Charles. He had tousled brown hair and freckles on his cheeks. 

“Yes, Charles,” Ben encouraged him as he walked down the aisle to Charles’ desk. Charles cleared his throat and sat up more straight in his chair.

“Isn’t it a dead language, Mistah Tallmadge?” Charles asked. 

“It is, but it’s not dead if we bring it to life by speaking it!” Ben exclaimed, looking at the other young men in the class. “It’s quite a beautiful language if you take the time to study it.”

“Is it goin’ to be hard, Mistah Tallmadge?” Another boy asked, named Daniel. 

“No,” Ben smiled as he made his way back to the front of the class. “Not if you take your notes and pay attention.” 

Some boys dipped their quills in the ink, while others groaned in despair. Ben laughed at the mixed reactions. It wasn’t easy teaching young boys but it sure was worth it. He made sure by the end of each lesson everyone understood what was taught and left with a better attitude than when they came into class. 

Of course, his lesson plan today reminded him of Sadie. When he recited the verb forms and wrote them on the chalkboard, it was hard to ignore the pull on his heart. Another moment of realization slowly dawned on Ben at that moment—when was the last time he received a letter from Sadie? Well, he couldn’t ponder on that too long right now. He’d have to wait until the end of the day. 

“Amo, amat, amos,” Ben recited aloud. The boys repeated after him in tandem. And despite carrying on with the lesson, he was anxious to get home and check the post. 

When class ended, Ben wished them all a wonderful holiday. Normally, he’d stay and talk to them before closing up for the day, but even they were in a rush to enjoy the break. Ben quickly packed up his things and headed home. 

☆☆☆☆

He walked home after school ended. Satchel on his shoulder, tricorn on his head. He tipped his hat whenever he passed by a local town person to greet them. Horses trodded by him in their carriages. With each step, a sinking feeling grew deeper in Ben’s chest. 

When he arrived at his small abode, he checked the post box immediately. 

Nothing. 

Ben furrowed his brows at the empty box and shut it. How much time had passed since his last letter? About a couple of weeks? 

Entering his home, Ben locked the door and placed his brown leather satchel on a chair. He threw his tricorn on his bed and ran his hand through his golden brown hair, exasperated. His mind was racing—was Sadie okay? Did something happen in New Haven? Surely, he'd hear about it if it had to do with any redcoats. 

To distract himself from his worry, Ben started a fire in his fireplace to warm his home a little. The closer it got to the end of November, the colder it was getting. At least, that meant he could go on holiday and visit Sadie, before trekking up to Setauket. It would be a short visit in New Haven, but a necessary one. 

Ben sat in front of the fireplace for a few more moments, staring at the yellow and orange flames as they warmed his face. It was moments like this when he realized how alone and far away he was from everyone he loved. 

Perhaps instead of worrying, he could get a head start on grading papers. Yes, he’ll do that, he thought. He lit a candle and placed it on his desk. He reached into his satchel and brought out all the papers stuffed inside. Ben spread them out. He flipped through the pages and organized them by subject. And then, something fell into his lap.

“Hm?” Ben hummed aloud. 

Oh, dear. 

It was a thick envelope, with a red wax seal. This was the last letter he was supposed to send to Sadie! 

Ben pushed himself out of his chair and ran outside. It was nearly evening—there wouldn’t be anyone to collect the mail until tomorrow morning. Then Ben clutched the letter to his chest in realization: on Saturdays, Wethersfield didn’t collect mail. He’d have to go into town and physically drop it in the general store for it to be mailed out on Monday. Even more of a delay! Christ, Tallmadge. No wonder you haven’t heard from Sadie! 

But why wait for the postage when Ben could just head back to New Haven now, instead of waiting until Monday?It didn’t take him long to finalize his decision. He’d be on his way to New Haven at the crack of dawn and deliver his letter to Sadie himself. 

☆☆☆☆

Sunday

Sadie walked down the cobblestone path, basket in her arm. It was finally cold enough for her to bring out her favorite velvet cloak. She threw the hood over her head and continued to walk down the road, smiling at anyone who walked by: a mother and her child, an old man waiting for a customer in front of his steps, two young boys running around, wreaking havoc. Many faces passed her by, and none of them were who she wanted to see. 

Her first stop was the market. She needed to stock up on apples and cheese for the bar guests—and then some for her to sneak for herself. The bell chimed in the doorway and she was greeted by Mack, the old man who ran the shop.

“Hello, Sadies,” Mack greeted. He always added an “s” at the end of her name. He trotted from behind the counter and leaned on his elbow. “How’s your father?” 

“He’s good, Mack,” Sadie smiled, taking the cloth off her basket. “Says you’re due for a pint of ale.”

Mack laughed, “I don’t drink like I used to.” 

“He can do a soft pour,” Sadie chided. 

“Maybe sometime this week.” He said this every time but never came by. Sadie smiled warmly at the older man. 

“I’m here for—“

“Apples and cheese, I know, I’ve got it ready,” Mack held a finger up in the air as he spoke and rounded the corner again, bringing a fresh basket from behind the counter. Sadie carefully picked the apples with the cloth from her basket. Mack had the cheese already wrapped. 

“Thank you very much, Mack,” Sadie smiled. 

“Where are you off to next?” 

A pang hit Sadie’s heart. “The tavern I suppose. I’ve got to do some cleaning before the holiday week.” 

“Your brother will be back this week, right?” Mack inquired. At the mention of Nathan, Sadie’s chest suddenly felt lighter. 

“Yes,” Sadie smiled, “of course.” 

“When?”

“Monday,” Sadie answered, “he’ll be home for a week. After that, a shorter term begins and he won’t be home until the long break again.” 

“Ahh,” Mack said, “busy boy he is. I’m sure he’s loving being a teacher.” 

“He definitely is,” Sadie smiled. She couldn’t wait to hear his stories when he came back. She knew of some of his experience from his letters, but knowing Nathan, he loved to save the details for in person. 

After Sadie gave Mack a few coins for the food she picked up, she was on her way back to the tavern. Hood over her head, she walked slowly down the path, counting her steps. She heard the normal hustle of the town around her, but Sadie paid no mind to it. She focused her gaze on the cobblestone, wishing this sinking feeling would just go away already. The lack of communication between her and Ben was taking a toll on her, and she wondered if he received her most recent letter, the one in which she told him about her plans for the Spring with Genny. 

Sadie pushed her hood off her head when she approached the tavern. It was a sunny morning—very bright for a rather autumnal Sunday in November. When the sun warmed Sadie’s face, she squinted her eyes at the brightness and nearly missed the figure that stood at the corner of the Tavern with a familiar-looking horse. 

She nearly dropped her basket on the cold hard ground when she realized who was waiting at the corner. 

Benjamin.

“Oh my,” Sadie whispered, her heart in her throat, “B-Ben—what—“ All the words she wanted to say left her at that moment as Ben, it really was him, finished tying his horse, Willow, to the pillar and made his way to Sadie. 

And perhaps it was a bit forward, or inappropriate, but Ben didn’t care—he stalked his way over to Sadie and placed his hands on either side of her face, and slowly leaned down to give Sadie the longest and warmest kiss he could. He shut his eyes tight as his lips began to remember the feeling of hers on his, a comforting, familiar feeling that he’d been so deprived of. Sadie reached up to touch his face and deepened the kiss, running her fingers over his skin, as if the movement said Is it really you, here? This is real? 

When Ben pulled back, he was breathing hard, but he locked his blue eyes with Sadie’s warm ones. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Sadie, I’m so sorry.” 

“I thought you forgot about me,” Sadie smiled, despite herself. She blinked away tears and Ben looked at her as if she just accused him of a terrible crime.

“Forget about you? Sadie, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left this town,” Ben now was holding both of Sadie’s hands, caressing her knuckles with his thumbs. “I’m a bloody idiot and mixed the letter I wrote for you weeks ago with my students’ papers.”

“Oh,” Sadie said, her worries washing away instantly. “Oh, Ben, I can’t believe I jumped to conclusions so quickly,” Sadie closed her eyes and scrunched her brows in frustration, thinking of how sad she was when she didn’t receive any letters from Ben.

“It’s okay,” Ben hushed and kissed her forehead. “When I saw I still had my letter, I knew I had to get it to you sooner than later. I left Wethersfield yesterday morning.”

“How long will you be in New Haven for?” 

“Just tonight, I’m afraid,” Ben smiled sadly, “I have to go back to Setauket for Thanksgiving.”

“Right,” Sadie nodded, “of course. Well, I’m so happy you’re here now, Ben. It’s been so long.”

“I know, my Sadie,” Ben whispered and pulled Sadie in for another embrace. When he pulled back, he met Sadie’s eyes with concern. “I was hoping you’d be able to have me tonight.”

“Of course,” she said without a second thought. “Come to the back door, at night. Like old times.”

Ben smiled and wiped a tear from Sadie’s cheek. “I’ll be there.”

☆☆☆☆

All day, Sadie anticipated the tavern to close early so she could prepare to see Ben tonight. Even though people knew of their relationship, it was still funny they had to sneak around to see each other.

Sadie looked at herself in her small mirror in her room. She took down her hair from her bun and let it fall to one side. Her white shift dress was buttoned to the top, but Sadie decided to undo a few of the buttons so some more skin peeked through. When she heard tiny pebbles hit her window, Sadie knew Ben arrived. 

After sneaking him in from the back door and quietly tip-toeing up the stairs, so as to not wake Richard, Ben was finally in Sadie’s room again. She shut the door quietly and locked it. When she turned around, Ben had his arms open for her. She squealed softly and walked into his strong arms. He wrapped them around her frame, picked her up, and squeezed her before gently putting her down again. Ben buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed in her sweet scent. 

“Christ, I’ve missed you,” Ben breathed. “So much, Sadie.”

“I missed you more,” Sadie smiled.

“Impossible.”

She took his hand and gestured for him to sit on her bed. Sadie didn’t even know what to say, but the look on Ben’s face told her he had something to say first. He smiled, a bit embarrassingly, and felt for something in his pocket. When he pulled out an envelope with a red waxed seal, Sadie looked confused. 

“This is the letter that got mixed up in my papers. You should have received it if not for my misplacement,” Ben put the crinkled letter in Sadie’s palm. 

“Do you want me to read it?” Sadie asked, already tearing open the wax seal. Ben laughed, nodded his head to gently urge her. 

“Of course,” Ben whispered. “But I can’t look at you as you read it.” 

“Why not?” Sadie said amused. 

“It’s different when you’re in the same room as the person you wrote the letter for,” Ben chuckled. 

“Oh, please, Ben,” Sadie hushed, “you’ve seen me nearly naked and you’re a little embarrassed by a letter you wrote me?” 

“If it’s the letter I remember, then yes,” Ben blushed. Without prying further, Sadie took a moment to read it by candlelight. Contrary to what Ben said before, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Sadie as she read. 

It was about a dream Ben had about Sadie, by the beach and a constellation he hadn’t seen before. It was adorable—romantic, and adorable. Sadie tried not to giggle but couldn’t help it. 

“You think I’m silly, don’t you?” Ben asked. Sadie shook her head and placed the letter on her nightstand. When she looked at Ben again, she took his hands in hers and squeezed them.

“Not at all, Ben,” Sadie assured him. “I thought that was very sweet. Imagine, a constellation named after me?”

Ben laughed, “It would surely be the most beautiful constellation in the sky.”

“Now that was silly,” Sadie playfully teased. Ben digressed and kissed Sadie’s knuckles.

“Sadie, how are you? Really?” He asked. “It’s been a few months since I’ve seen you. There’s so much to catch each other up on.”

“I know,” she agreed and took a deep breath. Since Ben was here early, it was possible he hadn’t received her last letter yet. “Well, nothing about the tavern has changed. Not many Yale kids come by. It’s the regular town folk.”

“But what about you?” He asked again. 

“What about me? Hm,” Sadie tried to deflect the attention, but it was no use. “Well, in the spring, I’m going to be learning about herbs and healing with Genny in Middletown. Ben… I wrote you a letter before I knew what happened. I really thought you forgot about me or met someone, or whatever…” Sadie trailed off. “If my letter seems to have an air of finality to it, please disregard it. In fact, don’t even read it, just toss it. But I’m glad I’m telling you this in person now.”

Ben nodded as he listened in understanding. 

“So… yes. Next spring, I’ll be in Middletown. I’m not sure for how long, but I’ll be learning.”

“That’s amazing, Sadie,” Ben said honestly. “I’m so happy for you to be getting to experience something like that.”

“Really?” Sadie asked with surprise, “I thought you’d be upset.”

“Upset? Sadie, why upset? No, I’m happy for you,” Ben said with gentle urgency. “You deserve to learn new things and visit new places. Why would I ever be upset?”

“Well, because it’s not really anything to do with us. You know, I’m not moving to Wethersfield to be with you.”

Ben shook his head, “Sadie, as much as I would love to come to you, I’m not one to stop you from being able to experience things, even if it means without me. No, I encourage it. I would never be upset because you didn’t make a decision for us.”

“But I want to be with you,” Sadie argued gently, “no matter where I am.”

“I want to be with you too,” Ben said, “and I will. So as long as you’ll have me.” 

"So when I go to Middletown, and you’re in Wethersfield, we can still write letters and be together that way, right?” Sadie asked. 

“Of course,” Ben said like it was the most obvious answer in the world. In a way, it was the only correct answer for him. “And if you don’t hear from me or I from you, let’s not assume the worst. Okay?” 

Sadie laughed, “I’ll try not to get my papers on herbs mixed up with my letters.” Ben chuckled in response. 

“Besides,” Ben said in a low voice, “Middletown is not that far from Wethersfield. In fact, it’s only a few hours by horse. I’ll come to you,” Ben promised. “When you have a free weekend and can sneak around.”

“I can’t wait until we don’t have to sneak around,” Sadie gently ran her thumb over Ben’s jaw. Ben turned his face into the palm of her hand and kissed her. 

“I know,” he whispered, “me too.”

“So, how have you been? How’s teaching? Your students?”

“My students are a riot, but they are eager to learn, and I’m grateful for that. The most recent lesson I taught them was on Latin. I thought of you the entire time.”

“They’re lucky to have an amazing teacher like you,” Sadie said. 

“Thank you,” Ben smiled. “It’s been rewarding, teaching them.”

“I’m sure they love you,” Sadie sighed with content. “As.. as I do.”

“Wh—“

“I love you, Ben,” Sadie said, and she thought it was strange that she hadn’t said it before. Maybe it was one of those things that was so true, it didn't need to be said. 

“Sadie, I love you,” Ben whispered, bringing Sadie’s hands in his lap. He closed the short distance between their faces and gently pressed his lips to Sadie’s, before deepening the kiss. Sadie opened her mouth to invite his tongue. It was a sensation Ben hadn’t felt since the last time he was in her room. He placed his hand on the back of Sadie’s neck and caressed his fingers through her hair, gently tugging to lay her flat on her back. 

Sadie traced her fingers along Ben’s back and stopped when she reached his low ponytail. She untied the ribbon and threw it on the floor, letting his golden brown locks free. Ben gently kicked his boots off so they wouldn’t make a loud thud. For a moment, Ben pulled back to look at Sadie in the soft glow of the candlelight by her bed. She looked so soft and ethereal in such a light, he leaned over her and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“What is it?” Sadie asked. 

“You’re just beautiful,” Ben whispered. He leaned down again to kiss her. To remember this moment, Ben truly lost himself in the kiss as he tried to memorize the curve of Sadie’s lips on his, how soft her face felt, and how delicate she felt underneath him. When he pulled back to breathe, Sadie gestured to her night dress. 

“Please unbutton the rest,” she whispered. 

Without a word, Ben did as he was told and spread the thin white linen across so Sadie’s breasts were exposed. He took a shaky breath, mouth agape, as he took in this sight of Sadie. 

“Ben,” she gently urged. “I want you.” Her heart was pounding so fast and hard, she began to shake a little. Ben placed a warm hand on her neck and ran it down the length of her arm. 

“Okay,” Ben nodded. 

“Wait!” Sadie shout-whispered out of nerves, startling Ben. “I—oh dear God, I’m sorry. I—I’m not sure what I mean by I want you. I mean, I want you, but this is—I’ve never been bed before, obviously—"

“Sadie,” Ben interjected, “we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I’d never want you to feel uncomfortable, especially with me.”

“No,” Sadie argued, “I—I want to. It has to happen now, before it will be a while until we see each other again. I want this.”

“As long as you want this,” Ben restated, wanting to be sure. “Is it—special enough? I should have brought—“

“It’s special enough because it’s with you,” Sadie interrupted him. “I don’t need thousands of roses and wine from France, Ben,” she laughed. “I just need you.”

Ben smiled in return, his blue eyes bright even in the dim lighting. Sadie laid down on her back again and took a deep breath as Ben took off his shirt and pants. He kissed her again, slowly this time, and gently placed his right hand on her breast, her nipple fitting in the middle of his palm. Ben took a deep breath as he felt his cock harden already. Sadie spread her legs and turned her face to the side. Ben began to kiss her neck, gently, all the way along her collarbone and chest. 

Sadie watched as he kissed her skin, still slightly shaking underneath him. She closed her eyes and felt her heartbeat quicken again. The more she thought about what was about to happen, the more nervous it made her feel, even though losing her virginity to Ben was all she wanted. She wanted this, she knew it. 

“I’ve got you,” Ben assured her as he pulled back from kissing her breasts. He could hear how fast her heart was beating. When he lost his virginity, his heart was beating fast too. He absolutely hated the experience—it was on a dare, and it was neither enjoyable for him nor the girl. He wanted Sadie’s first time to be more special, more comfortable, more enjoyable, and unforgettable. This was about her, it wasn’t about him. 

“Okay,” Sadie whispered. 

They both knew that after tonight, their relationship would never be the same—in a good way, of course. But what they say about intercourse, must be true. The sharing of bodies and becoming one. 

Ben gently tugged the rest of Sadie’s dress down so she was completely naked on her bed. Still shaking, Ben leaned his body weight on her to warm her. He kissed her from her lips to her chin, to her throat, to the middle of her chest, all the way down her stomach, and finally, to where he knew she needed it most. Her warm sex, her slick folds wet and sensitive. Ben kissed the top of her private and heard Sadie lightly moan as she pressed her head into her pillow. Ben took this as a good sign and gently ran his tongue over her wet folds, which caused Sadie to suppress another moan. Ben breathed in her sweet scent, and nearly almost finished just at the sight of Sadie like this. But he persevered and focused on her pleasure. He licked her wet folds again, and again, and Sadie felt a strange but delicious knot of pleasure in the pit of her stomach, something she remembered she felt before when Ben put his fingers inside her, but this was a different sensation because her hips bucked each time as if to say more, more, more… 

Ben held her thighs in place and continued to lap at her wetness, just enough until he heard Sadie gasp and pull on his locks of hair. She came over his face and was breathing heavily against her bed, her chest heaving. 

“Good lord, Ben,” Sadie said exasperated. 

“I enjoyed that very much,” Ben licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Sadie’s scent lingering on his skin. When she finally caught her breath, Ben took off the last of his breeches. Finally, they were both exposed together. Sadie looked at Ben’s hard cock and realized he’d be inside her soon, and she anticipated the feeling at first wouldn’t be pleasurable. 

Ben leaned down to kiss Sadie again, holding her tightly between his arms, another gesture to make sure she knew she was safe in his care. He closed his eyes and kissed her neck again, gently rocking his hard cock between her wet folds, covering his cock with her wetness. 

He hummed in pleasure as he felt the sensation become more slippery with each thrust. His cock was throbbing with pleasure, aching for relief. 

“I’m ready,” Sadie whispered as she caught Ben’s half-moon eyes. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. Sadie spread her legs wider and he aligned his cock with her opening. 

He was so, so very gentle and moved agonizingly slow as he attempted to push his cock into her tight cunt. Sadie held her breath and closed her eyes, and Ben watched as her face contorted with at first pain. Ben wanted to stop and pull out, even though only the tip of his cock managed to push in, but Sadie fluttered her eyes open and shook her head. 

“Keep going,” she breathed in an airy voice Ben wished he could play on repeat. He nodded and very tensely, continued to push his way inside her tight wetness, that feeling of relief slowly washing over his cock the further he went inside. Ben huffed a breath into her neck and Sadie cried out in pain at his hard cock stretching her so painfully but so sensually. It was nothing she ever expected it to be, this feeling of being full inside her cunt. She wanted more, so she spread her legs even more and Ben thrust inside her slowly, then all at once. 

They both moaned in tandem, Sadie in Ben’s ear and Ben resting his forehead on Sadie as he began to thrust slowly in her wet cunt. Goosebumps formed on his chest and Ben saw Sadie’s nipples harden, a sight that might’ve made him finish there but he quickly shut his eyes and opened them again to see Sadie’s face flushed, mouth open. 

“Mm,” she moaned lightly. Ben felt relief all over his throbbing cock now as he spread Sadie’s tightness and was coated with her wetness. He kept thrusting, slowly and then faster, pulling his hard cock completely out of her before pushing himself inside her again, this time much easier but still, her cunt clenched his cock in the most delicious way, he felt a knot form in his stomach, too. 

“Sadie,” Ben breathed, “you feel lovely.” He continued to thrust into her. Sadie couldn’t form a coherent thought because of how good Ben felt inside her—inside her. She arched her back to feel more of his hard cock hit a certain spot she didn’t know could be touched. She bit her lip and shut her eyes as Ben continued to hit the same spot over and over again. She hummed as his thrusts became faster, and the pain was no longer felt. 

“I love you,” Ben whispered as he felt Sadie’s orgasm about to come. He could tell by the way her cunt clenched him so tightly and her wetness was surely all over her bed now. Sadie opened her mouth and meant to speak, but instead, a light moan escaped her lips that again, almost made Ben combust but he wanted so badly for her to come first. 

“I love you,” Sadie squeaked as felt something burst in her cunt, a million different feelings of pleasure rolled and bucked her hips against Ben’s thrusting, and she shivered underneath him. Soon after her high, Ben thrust once more all the way inside her cunt before pulling all the way out, and she felt his warm seed pool over her stomach. 

Ben expertly reached into his jacket over the bed and found a random handkerchief to wipe his seed from Sadie’s stomach. She was still breathing heavily, as was Ben. She turned on her side and Ben kissed her shoulder, her arm, back and forth. When she finally caught her breath, Sadie spoke. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Sadie whispered. “I—I just feel good. In pain, slightly, but a good pain. I didn’t even know a good pain was such a thing.”

Ben chuckled and caressed Sadie’s face with the back of his hand. “I know.”

Sadie turned around to face him in bed. Ben brought her blankets over the both of them and waited for whatever it was Sadie was going to say. 

“Was that… was that your first, as well?” She asked. 

Ben felt a pang in his heart. No, it wasn’t his first. 

“No,” he answered truthfully. And in a matter of moments, a look of betrayal fell over Sadie’s face. Confusion. 

“No?” She asked. 

“I gave up my virginity a long, long time ago. Before I ever met you, Sadie. It was on a dare, and it was a terrible, terrible experience. It’s the reason why I wanted to wait for you—to touch you, to be with you like this. I didn’t want you to have a terrible experience and I wanted you to feel special. I wanted it to be meaningful. For how meaningful this was for me, it felt like it should’ve been my first.” 

Sadie listened carefully as he spoke—it wasn’t fair to be upset. She understood. 

“Okay,” Sadie said. “It was certainly special to me.” 

“This means so much to me,” Ben said, “you won’t ever understand the weight of this situation for me. God, Sadie, I love you. I can assure you that’s the first time I’ve ever said those words to anybody.”  

“You’re my first, and I certainly hope you’ll be my last, Ben.” 

Ben reached over Sadie’s shoulder and blew out the candle. Sadie’s room instantly filled with darkness, but no amount of darkness could keep out the light that was Sadie to Ben. She nuzzled closer to his chest and closed her eyes to sleep. Ben rested his chin on top of her head, and waited for her to fall asleep before he eventually let his eyes rest and fell asleep, too. 

[atiredsalmon]

To be Grey and Blue

Connecting the timelines once more, this time with my Warden!

___

Leverette flinched, first, at the crash that sounded from the annex of the upper library, and sighed, second, at the thought of what had been knocked over now. Once upon a time the chaos that came of loud noises and explosive messes would have sent him slinking to the closest corner. He could be hidden there, shaking, for any amount of time until armored hands pulled him away. Later in his years it was more often he was the course of the loud noises and explosive messes, and his reminiscing almost made him smile as he put his quill down and stood from his desk in the main room.

A lot could change in all the years he’d lived. The chaos could become a comfort, when it meant the young mages causing it felt safe enough to be loud and careless. It could bring enjoyment to his day, when it meant Leverette could find his love already beginning to bring order as he stepped around the corner. It could bring unease, too, when it meant that one day, possibly soon - he would have no more messes to think of.

It wouldn’t be today, at least, Leverette thought. Twice now he had been interrupted from his duties assigned by the First Warden to break up another argument between new recruits. He could admit it made him feel young and invigorated again to see them so lively and energetic about their futures, but it made him feel old and frail to know what such futures had in store for them.

It made him scared, more so, to know these latest recruits were his own adoptive children.

“How come Davrin got to go but-“

“He was commanded, mimma. It is no less honorable to take over his orders as it is to take up new ones, no?”

“They’re not orders - they’re chores. And they’re not new, either! I’ve been doing them for over a year now and the best I get is a ‘you’re not grounded anymore but we need you to keep doing them because we decided someone else got to go on the big grand adventure-“

It was a conversation Leverette heard run itself in circles over the previous days and he was grateful for Zevran’s patience. The first time their children had dragged their feet and pouted sour faces at them, Leverette had been at a loss for words. They’d spoiled them too much he said. They’d told them too much, Zevran said. Growing up on stories of legends and heroics would make dreams of more legends and heroics he supposed. It was only natural, especially in the rebuilding Order. Dreams were necessary to combat the filth and ichor they both worked under and now walked through after their reputation’s crash during the time of the Inquisition. Leverette only wished they understood what it took to go beyond that. Time may have separated the Hero of the Fereldan from the Blight, but the scars could never be removed.

A twisted smile crossed his face as his prosthetic leg thumped against the old stone floors of the library to break up the brewing argument. It was a small room considering the size of the main library in Weisshaupt’s lower floors. Whereas that expanse of shelves and briefing rooms took up two floors, the upper library barely covered half of one. But it had the benefit of sitting nearly at the top of the fortress to overlook the entire expanse of the Anderfels mountain range. The large windows made it drafty and frigid in the winter months, but with Levy’s assignment to the room after his promotion to High Constable it had been renovated into a living space. In between the towering bookcases were curtains and scones, and what had once been an archival room now housed a small kitchenette and a bed. He moved towards it, sighing almost fondly when the words thrown back and forth softened into stressed whispers.

“If anyone should be going on grand adventures, shouldn’t it be people who have experience with them? Or people related to those experienced?”

“I’m getting old, but I’m not deaf,” Leverette chuckled as he rounded the corner and leaned against the wall. Brown eyes were grey with haze as age and the taint got to them, but Zevran was no worse off. He was a fraction of a second slower to react than he was twenty years ago and wrinkles framed his mouth, especially so when he smiled as he did now. Besides him were flashes of tunnels. Dark, dank things, riddled with broken stone walls stained red with old blood. When Leverette blinked, Ariane was standing in the kitchen with only the ruddy glow of the sunset from the windows illuminating them. Leverette raised a hand to his temple. Whatever his daughter said was lost beneath a wavering hum.

“Amor-“

Zevran’s purr was never lost on him, and Leverette quieted him with a wave of his hand. He only needed the tone of his voice, not his expression, to understand. Worry wasn’t part of the current situation and Leverette wouldn’t let it become it just yet. He knew the elf too well - if he speak up soon, the point of Arianne’s argument would be lost to them all.

“Histories, in a way, are the same as stories,” Leverette began. He gave Arianne a pointed look when he caught the roll of her eyes. “They’re told by those who made it out alive, but the living have seen only half the story. There’s more than just victories in adventures.”

“You’ve told me that before,” Arianne said. “You’ve told me everything!”

Leverette smiled as she jumped from her place in the kitchen and into his arms and he let sher slip her hands into his. She was a thin elven woman, only a head shorter than him which made her tower over Zevran. She was born in the Circle Tower of Rivain long with her brother and her wiry build and straight red hair was anything unlike Leverette’s reedy frame and blond curls. But her palms were scarred and her grip strong like his. With each pulse in her wrist, he could feel the Fade pounding strongly in her veins - the same as he. She was a strong mage. A strong Warden. She was a far cry from the trembling, starving child he and Zevran had stumbled upon in their search for apostates on the trek to Weisshaupt, but as she looked up at him with round eyes he couldn’t see anything else.

“I’m not afraid, I promise,” she continued, resolute. “I want to fight for the world, just like you did, and see all the things you’ve told me for myself. You two saved me and I know it was for something bigger than just sweeping the stables!”

Leverette turned his smile on Zevran and the corners curled up with a hint of deviousness. “She might just have convinced me.”

Zevran groaned halfheartedly and rested a palm against his forehead. “She knows you weakness, dear Warden. Do not let it fool you.”

Leverette hummed, pretending to think. “I wonder who taught her that.” Arianne laughed and he traded her embrace for Zevran’s. The rogue tugged him close and he let himself fall forward to rest his chin on the top of the elf’s head. His leg ached and he was grateful for the support. His eyes ached, too, and he closed them in a soft sigh as Zevran traced a hand down his back. All he felt was the claws of darkspawn drag across his spine.

“Amor,” Zevran repeated, and there was less worry and more certainty. Unaccepted certainty from the tremble in his voice, but they had talked about this before. Many times in fact - three nights ago being the most recent, in fact. The same night Zevran had found a splotch of black on his knee as he undressed Leverette. There had always been whispers of a plan of what to do when the Calling came, but that night there had been shouts and tears. Of where to go. Of when to make the final descent. Of what to do with the mages they’d brought under their wings and the ones they’d taken into their family. Leverette did not want to see Zevran without him, but he did not want the children to see him go.

“They will not,” Zevran said, stern, and Leverette didn’t realize he had spoken it out loud. “I have recieved word from Varric last night. Arianne and Arlan will be welcomed.”

Leverette was thankful again for Zevran’s arms around him as relief made his knees weak. Time truly did change him. Years ago he had welcomed the idea of death. If the Templars struck him down he could no longer be haunted by their threats or the demons they claimed to protect him from. His duty as Warden Commander could be lifted from his shoulders if his spell got to the Archdemon first. Now? Now Leverette was sure he had never once suffered in his life, not at the Circle, not at the Wardens, not during the war, but only now after seeing the first blackened ulcer that ate at the stump of his knee while Arianne and Arlan had yet to barely fulfill their oaths.

He should have been happy. They were both grown now. One an accomplished made researching the newly revived griffons whether she saw the position in the stables as a punishment or not while the other was a swordsman soon to be without equal. It was true they’d been raised on legends and had big shadows to fill, but it was only a matter of time. It was Leverette and Zevran’s job to pave those first steps for them, and Varric’s acceptance of them into the chase for the Dreadwolf was just that.

But Leverette was afraid, and he heaved a choked breath that tasted of blood and sorrow. He was afraid that his story was to end. And in the bowels of the Deep Roads, too.

He only hoped Zevran wouldn’t try to end his story as well.

“You will be taking Squawksberry,” Zevran said, when Leverette was silent a moment longer. He could smile, however, when he caught Arianne throw her hands.

“That old lady?”

Leverette coughed out a chuckle. “That old lady will at least keep an eye on you.” He heard her stomp a foot.

“Is Arlan coming, too?”

Leverette laughed, louder this time, and he straightened to look Zevran in the eye. “Funny, that. He asked the same thing about you this morning.”

[assbutt-writes]

A Heart Of Iron Chapter 12

Chapter below cut

LOKI

Shit. Why did it have to be right then? Loki sighed and then teleported outside, instantly appearing face-to-face with a gray man that seemed to be entirely covered in some sort of red tattoos. Maybe they were scars? Whatever they were, the man was standing extremely still, staring at Loki.

"Drax, get over here. We've gone over this, standing still doesn't make you invisible, it makes you look like an idiot," a raccoon said, and, wait a second, why was the raccoon standing up? And why could it talk?

"Did that raccoon just talk?" Clint said, bemused.

"i'm not a raccoon!" the raccoon yelled, a look of anger crossing it's face.

"I am Groot," the tree said smugly, and the raccoon looked insulted.

"Hey!" the raccoon said, and he started to shoot the tree with his blasters. The tree just stood there, and wait, was it laughing? A talking tree and talking raccoon. Surely this day couldn't get any weirder.

"Rocket! Groot! Break it up!" a man behind them said, trying to break up the fight, and yeah, apparently it could get weirder.

"Stay out of this, Quill!" Rocket hissed.

"Okay, what's going on?" Clint cut in, "Why are you here?"

"My father was here on Earth, and we're trying to stop him from wiping out half of all of the life on this planet," a green woman explained, and Loki's eyes went wide. He knew that someone was playing God and wiping out half of all life on each planet they went to, but if they were Thanos, they didn't stand a chance. Nobody stood a chance. He was called the Mad Titan for a reason, after all. His race practically were gods, and races far greater than his were no match for him. And if that was the case, then the woman had to be–

"Loki?" Clint asked, looking over at him with a concerned look crossing his face, breaking Loki out of his thoughts.

"You–You're Gamora, right? I–I've heard of this. I just never knew it was Thanos. If it is him, we're doomed," Loki said, starting to panic.

"Maybe you could've broken it to them a little easier, Gamora?" a man said from behind the group, and Gamora spun around to face him.

"Cut it, Quill. They needed it hear it, and I don't sugarcoat things. You know that," Gamora said, giving Quill a terrifying look. Quill backed off immediately, looking appropriately scared.

"Okay," Clint said slowly, wanting to make sure he understood, "So we're all about to die, and you guys are here to try and stop it?"

"Pretty much," Quill said, shrugging. Gamora rolled her eyes at him.

Clint let out a long sigh.

"I guess you guys can come on in, then. We can use all the help we can get," he said.

"Wait a second. How did you know who I am?" Gamora asked, spinning on Loki.

"You and your sister are common knowledge where I come from. Gamora and Nebula, two children, the last of their races, taken in by the Mad Titan and raised to be warriors," Loki said.

"And where exactly do you come from?" Gamora asked, her guard obviously going up.

"Asgard," he said simply, and she nodded, accepting his answer.

They all walked back inside, Jarvis assigned the aliens a floor, and Loki went back up to Tony to fill him in on what happened. He told Tony the story, the other man's eyes going wide.

"So let me get this straight, a bunch of aliens came down in a spaceship and said that, what, we're doomed?" Tony said exasperatedly, running a hand down his face.

"Pretty much," Loki said, and Tony let out a groan.

"Why can't I have one normal day?" he complained.

Just then, Rocket entered the room, as if to punctuate Tony's sentence.

"Wheres the bathroom?" he asks, and Tony looks disgusted.

"Why is there a raccoon in my room? Get it out of here!" Tony said as Loki tried to stop him.

Rocket looked offended. "I'm going to ignore that, seeing as you're in a hospital bed right now, but if you ever call me a raccoon again," he said, leaving the threat unfinished, "I'm not an it, either. My name is Rocket."

"N–Nice to meet you, Rocket," Tony said hesitantly.

"Yeah, yeah, now where's the toilet?"

"Down the hall," Loki said, trying not to laugh.

After he was gone, Tony turned on Loki.

"You ass! Why didn't you tell me one of them was a raccoon?"

"I thought it would be funny?" Loki said hesitantly, his face breaking out in a grin.

Tony threw a book at him.

"Ow," Loki said completely deadpan, and they both broke out into laughter at how completely absurd the situation was.

Clint came in, grinning from ear to ear.

"Strange says you can get a wheelchair now!" he said, and a similar grin broke out on Tony's face. He threw his fist in the air and whooped happily.

"Mobility!" he cheered, making Loki laugh.

Clint brought in a StarkTech wheelchair, and, after 4 failed tries, they got him into the wheelchair. Tony gave it a few experimental spins, and attempted to pop a wheelie, which ended up with him on the floor.

"Tony!" Loki shouted, while Clint laughed.

"Hey! Don't laugh at my pain!" he shouted, and then, noticing the look of concern on Loki's face, he said, "I'm fine, Lokes,"

Loki helped him get back up, and they went into the common room. Tony froze when he saw the group in the living room, watching Star Wars and talking about how inaccurate it was.

"Holy shit there's a tree in my living room."

"I am Groot!" Groot said, crossing his arms.

"Okay, then," Tony said, taken aback, "It talks."

"I am Groot!" Groot yelled, obviously offended. Gamora rolled her eyes and stepped in before another fight could break out.

"Guys, I think we have bigger problems right now, like Thanos," Gamora said, turning off the TV.

"Right, so what are we going to do about that?" Tony said, getting straight to business.

"There are 3 Infinity Stones on Earth right now, the Time, Space, and Mind Stones. We don't know where the others are, bit if we can stop Thanos from getting those Stones, we can stop him from destroying half of all life in the universe," Gamora said.

Tony nodded, "We already know where they are: the scepter, the Tesseract, and with the Ancient One. We already have the scepter and Tesseract. "

"Good. We're going to need to go to this 'Ancient One' and get the stone from them," Quill said, and the others nodded. They did a bit more planning, but when they started talking about going right then, Steve cut in, indicating the clock.

"I vote we do that in the morning," Steve said, yawning, "It's already 11:58."

"Fine, old man," Tony said, and Steve throws a pillow at him.

"I agree," Rocket said, "You have no idea how hard flying a ship is."

"Wait, he flies the– You know what? Why not," Tony said resignedly.

They all went back to their rooms, Tony wheeling excitedly to his, talking about his "first time in a real bed in forever". Loki fell asleep right when he got to his bed, and, for the first time in a while, he didn't dream.

[respectthefishuwu]

A skeleton has always been so detached in its shape from the idea of human that I had always perceived it as a foreign entity. I understand logically that it is a human remains as the hardest part of our being it lasts longer than our flesh. I can feel it inside me, can touch the skin where it is closer to the surface, I hear it clack and click sometimes, my teeth are bare for me to see them. Yet still I don’t think I ever really correlated it as something that really used to be part of a human when I saw it. Of course a modern person living in the west to add does not have many chances to see a skeleton in person. We most usually see photos, in films or drawings. I myself had a skeleton one to one sized model in middle school, affectionately called “Kostek” (from Polish “kości” i. e. “bones”) a victim of many of our pranks. Later in high school I would witness depictions of skulls in art history class, Netherland baroque still lifes still reside in my mind. As our teacher would tell us the message of unavoidable death and flowing time to the one experiencing the painting. I would look at them in admiration, the skill and mastery of the artist speaking to me, a youngster in training. But the message of the long dead master would not reach me. The skull, the hourglass were merely interesting objects to study in my eye.

In the first grade of high school I believe, when we were studying human figure our first assignment was the skull. We were to study the bone structure in preparation for a fleshed out human. We would study the shape of bone, the sharpness of the jaw, eyebrows curve, how the back was chiselled. I studied the profile predominantly as that was the perspective from my station I occupied in our drawing and painting classroom during my four year stay. I sketched and observed the angle at which the nose met the forehead, the sad grimace of eye sockets cast in shadow, the wide smile forever frozen in time. And although I knew we were studying it in preparation for the human figure, firstly it would be a gypsum bust and later at last one of my classmates would pose, yet even so it was just an object, a shape, a being of space for me.

Few years back I visited an old chapel, or a shrine perhaps would be a better way to describe it. I believe when I was still in middle school but of that I am not sure nor do I recall where it was. The only thing I remember for sure is that it was a one day trip during a broader vacation. The day was bright with scorching Sun washing everything in a dazzling shine wherever its rays would touch. Put simply, the perfect day to explore old sanctuaries made of a cooling stone. The shrine I think was from times of plague in the 17th century. Its entire interior was made of skulls. Countless human skulls would surround you upon entering. That image is still vivid in my mind. Old polished ecru bone, bright but delicate on the sun fatigued eyes. Unusual but fascinating experience to say the least.

Right now I am listening to “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails covered by Hildegard von Blingin’. The song is quiet with a sorrowful yet calm tone and of course as it is Hildegard von Blingin’ cover the song and music is rewritten to imitate mediaeval style, lyrics changed in an early modern English manner to still be understood by the modern listener. A truly romantic tune.

The video accompanying the song has lyrics change on the screen along the performer’s singing, written in a lean font reminiscent of an old quill pen writing. Beside them there is a figure in the style of drawings found in mediaeval breviaries. The figure is that of a king in chainmail tunic atop his gown, crown helm placed on his head, red cloak engulfing him, sword held up in his right hand with his left one placed beneath his heart. Truly a picture of a mediaeval king, what have I found so peculiar about that image? Because that is in fact why I started writing all of this in the first place.

Please watch it if you had not already:

https://youtu.be/g4UZRYShjYU?si=kuwHhC5dhMATIrY5

As the video progresses together with the song, the depiction of our king begins to change. At his feet appear human skulls, at first faded they subtly come into view stronger as time passes. One of them holds a tibia in its jaws, another one grins almost mockingly. Upon closer inspection there are changes to our king as well. Traces of blood stain his chainmail tunic, his eyes become clouded falling deeper into their sockets, his nose darkens until it is gone, only a dark hole left behind, skeletal grin overtakes kings stoic demeanour. His helm covered in rime, the hem of his gown torn.

“What have I become?

My sweetest friend”

the lyrics call out once more,

“Everyone I love fades away in the end

And thou couldst have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let thee down

I will make thee hurt”

The skulls surrounding the king fade into the view firmly now as the song nears to the end.

While watching the video I jumped between my open tabs as I usually do when listening to music, a static video like that doesn’t really lose its message when not watched continuously I presumed. I was distracted, I jumped back to the tab open with the cover and as I saw the skull at king's feet and for but a speck of second I saw a person in one of them. It was a brief visualisation but something in me was stirred, I felt somehow sad. It is just a drawing of a skull but like any other skull it used to be a person, alive, breathing, warm. My mind wandered back to the shrine I described earlier, the walls filled with people, warm humans with sorrows and joys, all around me upon my entry. All of their lives bygone and forgotten, even my memories of their bones faded, as preserved as they are. En passant I rapidly searched for any other times I had some type of contact with a skeleton. Each personified suddenly, each an image of a human now lost to time. None of them just inanimate objects of interesting shape anymore.

And that exactly, that overwhelming dread and happiness of passing, humanity in its purest form, pooled behind my eyes, tightening my throat pushed me to write.

That little drawing of a skull with tibia in its jaws and its grinning friend on the opposite side.

[arrantsnowdrop]

Dementors - Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Takes place during Prisoner of Azkaban. Reader is in her fourth year (one below Fred/George) and has been having a rough year because of the Dementors. Fred steps in to help.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and stress

Word Count: 4,500

A/N: I’ve had this fic idea for a few months now, and finally got around to writing it! Fred is genuinely the love of my life and I hope you enjoy reading! :)

The Hogwarts Library was your favorite place to study. It wasn’t necessarily because you enjoyed the silence more than anyone else, but rather stemmed from your inability to work when other people were around. The moment you broke off from your group of friends’ “study sessions” and started studying by yourself in the library, you fell in love with its quiet yet comforting ambience.

Studying alone didn’t necessarily mean you were lonely while studying. There was an unspoken sense of camaraderie between the regulars who frequented the library most nights of the week. Hermione, for example, had become your unofficial “study buddy” during your second year, with the two of you sharing a table or a couch to do your work on every time you were in the library together. Despite her being a year younger than you, she was one of your closest friends.

Even on nights like tonight, with buckets of rain falling down outside and the wind howling louder than a banshee, the library remained one of the coziest spots in the castle.

It was Saturday, one of the few nights Hermione didn’t come down to join you, and so you’d abandoned your normal desk near the windows in favor of a cushioned armchair near the fireplace (which Madam Pince only lit on nights like this).

You relished the warmth radiating from the fire in front of you, admiring the soft, flickering light it cast on the piece of parchment in your lap. You were taking a break from your half-finished potions essay, transfixed by the rain cascading down the tall library windows like a small waterfall.

You squinted as a dark figure floated into view, brows furrowing as you recognized it as one of the many dementors assigned to Hogwarts’ ground this year. You shuddered, quickly reverting your eyes to your essay.

How ironic, you thought, that you were writing about the Calming Drought when you hadn’t felt calm once all year.

You came from a muggle family, and while many creatures of the wizarding world were still unfamiliar to you, dementors were one aspect you wish had remained secret. They terrified you, to put it plainly.

You hadn’t slept soundly since the first day of the semester when one of them had just floated into the train compartment you were sharing with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. You’d almost passed out right then and there, and you weren’t even the person it was interested in.

You understood why they were there, but you still hated them. You could hardly go anywhere without seeing one hovering lifelessly through a window or lurking slowly over the Quidditch Pitch. As Hermione had said herself, you didn’t need to be near one for it to make you feel absolutely awful.

And while you didn’t like to think of yourself as an anxious person, the dementors’ presence this year had completely degraded your mental state. You were sleeping less, eating less, and trying to cope by putting all your effort into your schoolwork. At least when you were preoccupied with an essay or studying, you’d get a small distraction from the horrible creatures that permeated your everyday life.

“Oi, (Y/n)!”

You jumped about five feet in the air at the sudden noise, essay and quill falling unceremoniously to the floor. You groaned, twisting in your seat and eyes widening at the sight of Fred Weasley approaching you, a concerned look on his face.

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized sincerely. You gulped, ignoring the term of endearment, and shook your head dismissively.

“It’s alright,” you replied with a wave of your hand. “Just caught me off guard is all.” You reached down to pick up the items you’d launched off your lap. When you sat back up, Fred was walking over with a chair he’d grabbed from a nearby desk. You gave him a small smile as he sat down next to you.

“I’m assuming you’d like help with something?” you teased knowingly. He grinned and nodded.

“Hermione said you were in the middle of writing a potions essay, and seeing as Georgie and I have spent the last week studying for our potions OWL, I figured I’d come ask you all the questions Hermione couldn’t answer for us,” he explained. “If that’s okay with you, that is.”

You feigned offense. “Wow, Hermione first then me? I see how it is, Weasley.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothing it out on his thigh.

“These are our areas of concern,” he said, handing the paper to you.

“Areas of concern?” You raised an eyebrow as you scanned over the paper, chewing your bottom lip lightly as you tried to figure out what topics you could actually help him with. You glanced up at him, cheeks flushing at the sight of him watching you intently with a small smile on his face.

You’d always been a bit infatuated with Fred Weasley, but then again, who wasn’t? Fred and George were Quidditch legends, insanely popular (but in the truly social way, not the stuck up “I’m better than everyone” way), and quite smart. They were funny but caring, and stood up for anyone who needed it. He was also a year older than you, and thus you regarded him as completely unattainable.

“I understand everything up until this here,” you said finally, pointing at where ‘Draught of Peace’ was written. “I think this is where the fifth year curriculum begins, and obviously I’m not there yet.”

“I will gladly accept whatever help you can give,” Fred replied, grimacing as Madam Pince interrupted him with a loud “Shh!”

You startled again, exhaling quickly and glaring at Fred for causing the reprimand.

“Someone’s jumpy today,” he said, brows furrowing slightly. “You alright, (Y/n)?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you replied, looking down at Fred’s list once again. You went to hand it back to him, only to find him staring at you with an apprehensive look. “What?” you asked defensively.

“Have you been sleeping lately?” he asked quietly. You gulped, realizing you hadn’t concealed the dark purple bags under your eyes before you’d left your dorm.

“It’s just been a tough week,” you replied firmly, shoving the list into his hands and reaching down to gather your things.

“(Y/n)-”

“It’s late,” you stated, cutting him off before he could interrogate you further. “How about we get together to study sometime this week? That way I can find all my essays from this year for reference.”

“That works fine for me,” he replied hesitantly. “Are you-”

“I’m free any day except Wednesday, and Thursday morning because I have a Charms test,” you interrupted again, standing up quickly. “Just let me know whenever.”

He nodded slowly, pushing himself out of his seat as well, concern still etched across his face. You tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“How about tomorrow in the Great Hall? After my Quidditch practice,” he finally suggested. You nodded eagerly.

“Sounds perfect, I’ll see you then.” You gave him a small wave and rushed towards the doors, trying to ignore your heart beating ten times faster than normal and the memory of Fred’s worried gaze.

• • •

When you woke up from yet another night of hardly any sleep, you realized you had absolutely no idea when Quidditch practice was. You had walked down to the common room looking for Harry, but lo and behold, Oliver Wood was already up and annotating a book on Quidditch strategies at nine in the morning.

Practice was from three to five on Sundays, as you quickly found out, meaning you had a whole eight hours to stress about studying with Fred before it actually happened.

You spent an hour trying to fall back asleep and another working on your potions essay, then decided you’d had enough of your own room and went to bother Hermione in her dorm. You found her sitting on the carpet surrounded by a copious amount of notes, with Lavender and Parvati helping her sort through them.

“Transfiguration,” Parvati explained as you sat down to help them. “We have a test on Friday.”

“A bloody hard one, too,” Lavender said, slightly exasperated. “Four chapters worth of short ended questions and two essays.”

“Where’s Kellah?” you asked, realizing the fourth inhabitant of the dorm was missing.

“Interrogating McGonagall about all this.” Lavender jabbed a figure at a stack of notes spitefully.

“Maybe Kellah will convince her to give us all bonus points,” Parvati suggested. Hermione laughed softly, head still bowed over a lengthy piece of parchment in front of her.

“I hear you’ve got a study date with Fred Weasley this afternoon,” Hermione said, glancing up to give you a grin and an eyebrow wiggle. You groaned, blushing as Lavender and Parvati squealed.

“It’s really not that serious-”

“Except that it is!” Lavender all but shrieked. “You’ve liked him for forever!”

“Sweet Merlin, this is your chance!” Parvati gushed, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’m genuinely so excited about this.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’ll be sure to give you all updates tomorrow, though I can’t promise they’ll be all that interesting.”

The four of you continued to talk about your looming study session with Fred as you combed through Hermione’s notes.

“This’ll be good for you, (Y/n),” Parvati said thoughtfully. “I mean, Fred’s a great guy, he’s always cared about you-”

“Maybe hanging out with him more will help with the whole, y’know, anxiety situation,” Lavender added. You shrugged.

“I mean, I saw him for literally five minutes yesterday and he’s already figured out that I’m not sleeping,” you said, chewing your bottom lip. “And I don’t why but the thought of him knowing everything makes me nervous.”

“Why?” Hermione asked curiously. You shrugged again.

“I guess I just don’t want him to be upset, or worried.”

“(Y/n), Fred would never be upset with you,” she said reassuringly.

“I think it’s romantic that he’s all in-tune with your emotions,” Parvati said wistfully.

“And he cares,” Lavender sighed, staring at the carpet emotionally. You rolled your eyes.

“Thanks, guys.”

• • •

At 2:30, you tried to convince yourself that you were heading down to the common room to relax, not to catch a glimpse of your favorite Weasley twin on his way to practice. That was a lie.

Fifteen minutes later, Fred Weasley ambled down the steps with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, laughing loudly with George while Oliver trailed behind them muttering something about maturity. Fred’s face lit up as he caught sight of you curled up on the couch and smiled at you brightly. You gave him a small wave in return, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the faint blush on your cheeks.

“I’ll see you later!” he called on his way out of the room. George paused in the doorway to give you an exaggerated wink, giggling when you glared at him before turning to catch up with the rest of the team.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, cursing your quickened pulse and sweaty palms - he’d only been in the same room as you, for Merlin’s sake, there was no need to get so worked up.

And yet Fred had all your nerves on edge as the clock on the wall ticked closer and closer to five o’clock. You pulled out your potions textbook and a spare piece of parchment, deciding to make a few notes for later.

At some point you dozed off, your lack of sleep catching up with you as it often did in the middle of the afternoon. You’d become a frequent napper in the last month or so, finding it easier to fall asleep when it was still light out. Today, however, was not the best day for one of your four hour recovery naps.

You woke up with half an hour to spare before you needed to be in the Great Hall. You went back up to your room, gathered your typical study things and changed out of the pajamas you’d been in all day, opting for a sweater and a new pair of sweatpants instead. This time, you made sure to dab concealer under your eyes, erasing all evidence of your insomnia before you left Gryffindor Tower.

There were only a few students sitting in the Great Hall when you got there. You took a seat in the middle of the Gryffindor table and inspected the baskets of assorted snacks in front of you as you set your bag down.

One of the first years, a girl named Amara, pushed a basket of pumpkin pasties towards you from her seat across the table. She gave you a shy smile. “I know you like them.”

“Thank you, Amara,” you said, grinning at the young Gryffindor and grabbing two of the pasties.

“What’s that about?” she asked as you pulled your textbook out of your bag.

“Potions,” you said, setting the book on the table in front of you. “I’m helping Fred study for his exams.”

“Fred Weasley?” Amara asked with wide eyes. You chuckled.

“The one and only.”

As if on cue, Fred made his way through the doors of the Great Hall, head turning as he scanned the room for you. He grinned as his eyes met yours and hastened his pace just a little bit. Your heart skipped a beat, admiring the way his sweatpants hugged his legs and the slight flush to his face.

“Hello, love,” he said, sliding into the seat next to you. You gave him a small smile, eyes widening as he wrapped an arm around your waist. If he noticed the blush tickling your cheeks he ignored it.

“And hello to you, too, Amara,” he continued, giving her a wave. “You look lovely today.”

She squeaked, face turning a bright shade of red as she scampered down the bench towards her classmates. You rolled your eyes, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.

“You’re a menace,” you scolded.

“Sure am,” he replied proudly, removing his arm from your waist and clasping his hands together on the table in front of him. “So, potions.”

You nodded, flipping open your textbook to the Wit-Sharpening Potion (which you’d bookmarked earlier). “This is the first thing in the fourth year curriculum.”

“Which is where Hermione left off,” he added with a nod.

“I’ve already read it over,” you explained, pointing at some of the annotations you’d made earlier. “So we can review it together and then you can copy down all the important bits to study later.”

He looked down at himself and then gave you a sheepish look. “Do you by chance have something I could write on?” he asked. You sighed, reaching into your bag to grab a piece of parchment and a quill.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Weasley,” you said sarcastically.

“Oh, I hope so,” he replied cheekily, giving you a heart-melting grin.

You spent the next hour or so guiding him through the effects and recipes of each potion. He actually did a surprisingly good job at paying attention, taking detailed notes and only interrupting every once in a while to point out Amara staring at the two of you from a distance.

“She’s so cute,” you remarked softly, watching her gossip energetically with her friends.

“She reminds me of you when you were a first year,” Fred said. You gave him a confused glance.

“What do you mean?”

“Very enthusiastic, easy to rile up,” he explained.

“Now I understand why you and George pulled so many pranks on me,” you groaned, turning the page to the chapter on Skele-Gro.

“It’s was our job to terrorize the new students,” he said, raising his hands in defense. “Peeves’ orders.”

“Uhuh,” you said sarcastically, unable to keep the grin off your face.

“This is the stuff Madam Pomfrey gave to Harry last year!” Fred said excitedly, pointing at the book. You grinned and nodded.

“Yes! Now what’s it made of?” you asked, covering the ingredient list with your hand.

Fred’s nose scrunched as he concentrated. “Erm, puffer fish, and an arm bone, and…spiders?”

“One spider,” you corrected, lifting your hand off the page. “And a bunch of other things.”

“Chinese chomping cabbage, five Scarab beetles…” he mumbled, scribbling onto his parchment as he squinted at the list.

“Invented by Linfred of Stinchcombe,” you added.

“Funny name,” Fred chuckled.

“Which one?” you asked. “Linfred, or Stinchcombe?”

“Both.”

You giggled softly, gaze trailing upwards as the light emitting from the ceiling changed from a pale yellow to a deep blue. The floating candles gleamed brightly against the dark night sky. Despite the change, there was still enough light shining on the tables for you to be able to work.

“Lovely nighttime ambience,” Fred remarked from beside you.

“You sound like you work in real estate,” you replied, gaze moving from the ceiling to the large window at the front of the hall.

You inhaled sharply, noticing the all-too familiar silhouette of a dementor floating just beyond the glass.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Fred asked softly from behind you. You hardly noticed the hand he rested gently on your arm, focused entirely on the dementor hanging in the air like a twisted puppet.

“Dumbledore said they weren’t going to come on the school grounds,” you muttered.

Fred followed your gaze to the window, and you felt him stiffen behind you. “Ah.”

You turned back around in your seat, knocking his hand off you, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your notes.

“I think we can move on, yea?” you said, flipping to the next chapter.

“(Y/n)-”

“Antidotes,” you announced, clapping your hands together dismissively. “Very specific healing potions-”

“(Y/n)!” Fred interrupted, reaching out and covering your hand with his own. You sighed, finding yourself feeling oddly uncomfortable under his concerned gaze. “What, Fred?”

“Exactly, what the bloody hell was that?” he asked, a bit harshly.

“What are you talking about?”

“The dementor!” he said exasperatedly, frown deepening as you shivered. “(Y/n)?” His voice was much softer this time.

“I don’t like talking about them,” you said finally, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath. “They scare the shit out of me.”

“Are the dementors why you haven’t been sleeping?”

Your eyes snapped open, giving Fred an incredulous look. “I’ve been sleeping just fine, thank you.”

“I hope you don’t think last night in the library was the first time I’ve noticed,” he said softly. Your heart skipped a beat. “All year you’ve seemed…more reserved. Tired. You yawn all the time, I hardly see you eat.”

“I’m just…stressed,” you managed, glancing at the pumpkin pasties you’d set aside earlier. The dementor had taken your appetite away completely.

“It seems more serious than that,” Fred muttered, placing his hand on top of yours and squeezing gently. 

You sighed, glancing down the table to where Amara and her friends were staring at you intently. “Could we continue this conversation elsewhere?” you asked quietly. Fred nodded, helping you put your things in your bag.

“When did it start?” he asked as the two of you walked towards the doors at the end of the Great Hall.

“It’s been all year,” you admitted, cringing at the way Fred exhaled sharply. “I didn’t know you noticed.”

“Of course I noticed,” Fred said, pushing the door open for you. “You’re worth watching.”

You blushed and followed him down the corridor. “Where are we going?”

“I was thinking the kitchens?” he said. “It’s warm there, plus the house-elves are just starting dinner.”

Fred stayed by your side as you walked down the stairs, hand brushing against the back of yours lightly every time he took another step down. You bit your lip, imagining how it would feel to get to hold his hand.

“How was Quidditch practice?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. Fred looked down at you and gave you a small grin.

“You really want to know?”

You nodded.

“Absolute shit,” he replied, emphasizing every syllable. You stifled a laugh as his brows furrowed in frustration. “Wood has been up in everyone’s business for weeks trying to get us to learn this new play. You know who invented it?”

“Who?” you asked curiously.

“The Pride of Portree!” he said exasperatedly. “They’re bloody professionals, and Wood can’t seem to understand how we’re not performing as well as they are.”

“Wood’s a bit of a lunatic when it comes to Quidditch,” you agreed.

“A bit is an understatement,” Fred snorted, stopping at the fruit bowl painting that concealed the entrance to the kitchens. “Do you want to tickle the pear or should I?” “Don’t think I’ve ever been asked that before,” you laughed. “You can do it.”

Fred reached out and gave the two dimensional fruit a tickle, grinning as it turned into a door handle. He pulled it open. “After you, m’lady.”

“(Y/n)!”

You grinned and waved hello to Krafty, one of your favorite house-elves.

“Hello, Krafty,” Fred called, pulling the door shut and coming to stand beside you.

“Mr. Weasley,” Krafty said, giving a slight bow. “Krafty must go help work on dinner!”

You glanced up at Fred as the house-elf scurried off. “I didn’t know you knew Krafty.”

“George and I come here all the time to steal food before bed,” he explained, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards one of the tables. “We know quite a few of these guys.”

He sat down and patted the bench next to him, grinning as you followed suit and rested your head against his arm.

“Comfortable?” he asked. You nodded.

“Your mother’s sweaters are always so cozy,” you mumbled. “I stole one of Ginny’s old ones to sleep in.”

Fred chuckled. “I’ll just ask her to make you one.”

“I don’t want to burden her,” you whined.

“She loves you, she won’t mind.”

“I miss your mum,” you said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.” “You should come visit,” Fred suggested. You shrugged, sitting up straight. “Maybe.”

Fred reached around your back and grabbed a roll out of a basket behind you. You gave him a confused look as he forced it into your hands.

“Would you please eat this,” he said. “I haven’t seen you eat a full meal in weeks and it’s starting to make me nervous.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, taking a small bite of the bread.

“I don’t mean to make you feel bad,” Fred said softly, “it’s just that you have to eat.”

“It’s not like I’m trying not to,” you explained. “I want to eat, but I get so…so nervous that I stop being hungry.”

“Because of the dementors?” he asked.

“Yea.” You cringed at how small your voice sounded.

“Why do they freak you out so much?” he asked genuinely. “I mean, they’re creepy and all, but you seem more affected by them than most other people.”

“You remember how one came into our compartment on the Hogwarts Express?” you asked. “At the beginning of the year?”

Fred frowned and nodded. “Don’t think Ron slept for two weeks.”

“Yea, well, I haven’t really slept since then,” you muttered.

“(Y/n), it’s been months,” Fred said incredulously, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I genuinely have no idea how you’ve been functioning this whole time.”

“I know it’s bad,” you sighed, leaning into his chest and trying to ignore the way his caring tugged at your emotions. “But it’s just…so dark in my room at night. And I’m always the last one awake and I feel so alone, and then I’m just reminded of how lonely and terrified and cold the dementor made me feel.”

“You have to sleep sometimes,” Fred said, pulling you in closer to him. “I read somewhere that you’ll die if you don’t sleep at all, and you’re clearly alive.” He pulled back and gave you a once-over. “Well, kind of.”

You snorted. “I take a lot of naps.”

“Is it easier to fall asleep during the day?”

“Yea, and I can hear people moving around and talking and stuff, so I don’t feel as isolated I guess,” you said.  Fred hummed, thinking to himself.

“Would it be okay if I proposed a rather outlandish and potentially polarizing solution,” he said finally.

“Uh, sure,” you replied, motioning for him to speak.

Fred cleared his throat. “You could, y’know, if you wanted to, come sleep with me. Only if you were okay with it, of course.”

You were sure you’d heard him wrong, eyes bulging as a faint blush appeared on his cheeks.

“Jesus, (Y/n), don’t look at me like that,” he teased with a nervous chuckle. You blinked, trying to force your face into a more normal expression.

“You…you want me to sleep with you?” you asked.

“Not sexually!” he clarified quickly. “Just like physical sleeping, and I could keep you company so you wouldn’t feel lonely.” A pause. “Unless you’d prefer sexually.”

You felt your face turn increasing shades of bright red, stuttering for an answer as he grinned at you adoringly. Your eyes widened as he reached out and grasped your thigh gently, staring down at his hand and then back up at him.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you I fancy you?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours for any trace of an answer.

“No,” you managed breathlessly. “This is a perfect time.” His lips were on yours in an instant, your eyes fluttering closed as one of his hands came up to cup your jaw, the other resting on the small of your back, coaxing you closer to him.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you senseless and caressing your face with his thumb.

And suddenly you remembered you were still in the kitchens. In the kitchens snogging Fred Weasley.

“Fred,” you murmured, pulling back and taking a deep breath. You opened your eyes, relishing in the sight of Fred panting, his eyes still closed. “Fred, we have an audience.”

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the small crowd of house-elves watching you from a distance, all donning shocked expressions. “Krafty! Doesn’t (Y/n) look ravishing this evening?”

Krafty blushed furiously, turning around and hurrying away with the platter he was carrying.

“Fred Weasley!” you scolded.

“I wasn’t completely joking, you know,” he muttered, looking back at you. “You look gorgeous. Absolutely stunning, inside and out.”

You blushed. “I, erm, fancy you too,” you said, realizing you hadn’t said it back before. “In case you were wondering.”

Fred grinned, pushing himself to his feet and reaching down to help you stand up. “Let’s take this back up to my dorm, yea? We can make tea and look at that potions book a little more, and then maybe you can spend the night?”

You looked up at him, beaming at the thought of spending a night in Fred Weasley’s arms, and potentially sleeping well for the first time in months. “That sounds marvelous, Freddie.”

[between-the-realms]

"Understood," he said then, whether or not he truly believed Alfred, though, was up in the air. He took a quill and sighed the paper, before stating, "that was all the reason u had for summoning you. To go over this agreement. So, if you wish you can be off." He then looked at the soldier, "Jackson, you can be off as well. I'm sure you're still grieving. You'll have your new assignment by the morning." He then waved the man off.

Jackson, keeping that neutral face, bored and said, "Yes, sire." Before turning, wrinkling his nose and grimacing, before turning and walking out the door, though would spare Alfred a quick glance.

Past times

@the-mysticandmodern-world

The holy wars had been brutal for Abaddon. He had enlisted five years prior and almost immediately was thrust into a war to secure land for nation of Sunray Province. They needed more space for their wheat production... more space to build a grand cathedral to their goddess... more space for the goddess to bless. Abaddon was still young. Still impressionable. He believed whatever the arch bishop told their troops.

Now it was the final battle of the holywar, Abaddon had proved himself throughout it, surviving every battle... killing hundreds of men at this point. But now? Now... he laid on the scarred earth. Blood leaked out of a wound as he stared up at blue sky... at the sun that stared back at his tanned skin. The fighting had died down long ago, but Abaddon was still alive. Gravely wounded with no ability to move, but alive.

[greyeyedmonster-18]

It was a funny twisty sort of feeling in the pit of his stomach and Harry wasn't exactly sure he had felt it before. An entirely new sense of dread or anxiety or both was churning around his insides alongside his breakfast as soon as the post arrived and went straight to Harry.

He knew what they were before he could open the post. Middle of July, Harry wasn't expecting anything else.

Ministry owl.

Ministry envelope.

OWL results.

Sirius pretended to make himself busy, fixing another cup of tea, wiping the kitchen counter, while Harry sat with the envelope in his hands trying to pretend he was totally cool and totally confident.

Because it didn't matter, right? Two years ago, Harry would've said it didn't matter, loudly and boldly and he would've been right. But so much had changed and now Harry had a home, with wallpaper and bookends and a godfather who had a conversation with him at the beginning of summer about study habits.

You're way behind, kid, and it's not your fault. But you know, maybe now since Voldemort isn't...breathing down your neck and you're not living with a sense of impending doom, we can think about school?

Harry had groaned initially. And had moaned even louder when after a failed History of Magic exam beginning of term, Sirius called him on the mirror to let him know he'd be keeping a closer eye on his marks and Harry had to endure a long "conversation" about actually doing his assignments and not just skating by on his good looks.

"It's not going to bite you, Harry," Sirius said from where he was leaning against the counter, cup of tea in his hands, "Nor is it going to open itself."

"Feels like it should."

"Like a Howler?" Sirius asked a half-smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Mhmm. Just shout them at us too," Harry told him and took a breath before breaking the seal of the envelope and opening the post. He scanned the results slowly, caught somewhere between feeling pleased and feeling disappointed. What was Sirius expecting?

"Well?"

Harry wordlessly stood up and crossed to Sirius, handing him the results. He shifted from foot to foot, watching as Sirius read the paper.

It didn't matter. Except now it did.

It didn't matter. Except when Harry came home for the winter holidays and got to tell Sirius how well he did on the Transfiguration midterm. Because his godfather would say I'm so proud of you and Harry got to choose where they went to dinner.

It didn't matter. Except now, because Harry finally had an adult who actually cared how well he did in school. Who cared if he was learning. Who cared if he understood magic and could use it to protect himself. Who cared at all.

"Can you say something?" Harry asked, suddenly irritated though he was looking down at their bare feet. Sirius had the hairiest feet Harry had ever seen, and a big toe twice the size of his others. Harry made fun of him for it when they went to the seaside.

They're flippers Sirius. I think your ancestors forgot to follow through and gave you the ugliest feet in the world...

Harry felt Sirius's hand gently lift his chin up so he could meet his godfather's eyes.

"Well done, my love."

"But there's an A!" Harry nearly whined, unable to stop himself. "How is that good"

"Did you try? Did...you do the very best you could in History of Magic? In all your classes?"

"Well, yeah."

Late nights.

Revision guides.

Actually reading the textbooks.

"Then well done, my love," Sirius repeated and the twisting feeling in his stomach shifted into something that glowed. Warm. Shining. Bright. He watched as Sirius waved his wand to stick the OWL results to the fridge, and grabbed a quill from the counter to doodle tiny hearts around the margins. Harry laughed. Harry rolled his eyes. But Harry couldn't help but stare at the scores for a bit longer.

Well done.

[polipiper]

Obliviate

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader Theme: Hogwarts AU Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Summary:

During Harry’s time in Hogwarts, and after, there were many tales that nobody talked about in the magic world. Stories that were soon forgotten, or ignored due to the battles involving the magic trio and he who must not be named.

But there is one that was worth remembering, an unconventional story of a boy and a girl that had nothing in common, but fought until the very last minute together.

Chapter 2: The boy that stole Christmas

The first month passed by so quickly. You met more students from different houses thanks to Joonie — who became a great friend instantly. He had to go separate ways sometimes to hang with Jin and Yoongi, you could see he felt bad about it but you and Cho kept reassuring him it was alright, he needed to see his other friends, too.

Joon also felt bad for leaving you and Cho in some of your classes, he partenered up with Yoongi. It’s not like you were alone, Cho and you were partners, but you could feel eyes on you every once in a while, and every time you looked around you saw how Namjoon had his eyes on you…but with a worried face.

You realized you started to have issues with only one of the classes. Sure, you were a first year, but as a Ravenclaw you couldn’t help but feel worried. You knew the assignment, understood every single step, ingredient, and tool you had to use, so why did every potion you brew ended in a catastrophe? (Ok, you knew you were exaggerating, but you swear you would end up setting the classroom on fire some day).

“Look, we can study together every once in a while”, Namjoon suggested one day while you were having dinner. “We can ask if we can take the classroom one day after the class period, or during the weekend, and we can go through it together.”

The idea excited you and you couldn’t help but give Joonie a big smile. “Would you really do that for me?”.

“Of course Y/N! We’re friends, I can always help”.

The three of you got permission to use the classroom one Saturday morning, with the condition to leave everything clean. Snape left only the things you needed for the potion to cure boils (just to make sure you didn’t brew anything you shouldn’t…and specially for the safety of the whole classroom).

“I think I see your problem Y/N”. Namjoon said with a smile, after going through the process several times.

“Oh please do tell, I’m tired of this”.

“One of the steps is to remove the the cauldron from the fire, before you add the porcupine quills. You are doing it right, since it’s not causing the damage that it should if you do it the other way around…the problem is…for some reason your cauldron is not lowering the temperature as much as ours, it’s still kind of hot”.

“But why?“ you frowned at him, with Cho carefully listening to him. She was amazed, she didn’t realized that was the issue, he was pretty attentive.

“I’m not quite sure, since it doesn’t seem you’re doing anything different from us. But with this potion what you can do is just wait a little longer than the rest of us. It could be the cauldron? The material? I don’t know. But waiting a little longer can help to reach the temperature, let’s try it one more time, but you’ll wait 10 more minutes than us, ready?”.

“I can’t believe you reached to that conclusion. Let’s try it!”. The three of you seemed excited and immediately started to work on your potion one more time.

You were impressed, but you thought that maybe you shouldn’t. Namjoon seems to pay a lot of attention to detail, so of course he would be right. It seemed like something so simple and obvious for him.

Another month passed and you were doing better in potions, everything seemed alright in your classes and you were learning a lot. But Joonie kept glancing at you on every once in a while, and you felt hesitant to ask him what was going on. Something was bothering him, since later you realized he seemed to be avoiding you on purpose.

You tried focusing on your classes to stop thinking about what you did to Namjoon, you don’t recall saying anything wrong or doing something that could bother him. You weren’t sure if he had been talking to Cho or not, he probably did, since those pitiful eyes were only directed to you.

Christmas was approaching, which meant most of the students were going back home for the Winter break, you decided to stay at the castle so you could continue practicing, there was no way you could do it at home so your parents understood you were still so eager and focused to learn.

Cho unfortunately had to leave your side, but you were happy she could leave to see her parents.

“Are you going to be ok?”. Cho asked. “You can still change your mind and go to your parents, or mine! I swear my dad is a great cook, he always makes a great dinner for Christmas”.

“It’s alright Cho. I know why you’re asking, and it’s probably something you don’t want to talk about. But it’s ok, I will focus on something else, but trust me…next time I’m going to yours and try your dad’s cooking”. You laughed.

“Look…”. She smiled, but she seemed like she wasn’t sure to keep going or not, she seemed like she knew what was going on with Joonie. “Yes, I can see something shifted, and I’m truly sorry. Wish I could understand him more, you know? But give him some time”.

“Don’t worry, I think I know what is going on, but I won’t push it. I do miss him, but I can’t force him to talk”.

Cho gave you a smile, and you both decided to drop the topic and go on with your day.

It continued like this, both of you ignored the conversation until it was time for her to leave.

“Please be careful, and try to hang out with the other girls, I don’t want you to struggle”.

“Don’t worry Cho, I’m alright. I’ll keep my mind busy with other stuff, it can’t be that bad”.

You both hugged and said your goodbyes. You realized that Namjoon was gone too, so at least you won’t notice him ignoring you in the almost empty castle.

More days passed and it was Christmas Eve already, you were looking forward for the Christmas dinner and to hopefully take something to your dorm too. You were about to round the corner and reach the Great Hall until you crashed with something —or rather someone.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”. You recognized that voice—Min Yoongi, and until you locked eyes he realized who he was talking to. “No wonder why you’re so dumb and clumsy, it had to be a Mudblood”. He said this with his voice full of venom, but you were confused about what he just said.

“Oh? Excuse me?!”. You were furious, how dare he call you dumb?. “First of all, I’m not dumb you idiot, I wouldn’t be in Ravenclaw if I was. Second, what the hell is a Mudblood?!”.

He started laughing…laughing! “Bloody hell, see what I mean? You don’t even know what that means. But it kind of makes sense, Mudbloods are just that oblivious”. He made a few steps closer to you, making you nervous. “Mudbloods are a vile excuse of wizards, wizards that come from parents with no magic. Scum like you that don’t deserve a place here. Do me a favor, and try to never walk near me again, how does that sound?”.

You froze, you knew some Slytherins could be judgemental about blood status, but never expected these words to be directed to you with so much hatred and disgust. How could someone be this mean? It’s not like you chose this, you had a peaceful life back home, with your non wizard parents and non wizard world.

“Why did I do to you anyway?! And fine, it’s not like I want to see your ugly face again”. It was a lame comeback and you knew that, you just wanted to run away from the situation, so you turned around and ran to your bedroom.

You didn’t dare to go back for your dinner, you couldn’t stop crying for some reason. The biggest part of you told you to ignore him, that not everyone thinks like that. But there was a small part of you that felt like he may be right, or maybe most of the students did not want you there…like Joonie. And that’s the part that won…small, but hurtful enough.

And this is how you spent Christmas. Alone, and full of tears.

-

-

-

A/n: soooo this is the end of chapter 2! I decided to change a few things, but hopefully you like it 🙏🏻 please let me know your thoughts, I’m enjoying this too much! Hopefully you will too.