#a wizard���s wardrobe is never finished
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ABOUT RON
BASICS
FULL NAME: Ronald Bilius Weasley
NICKNAME: Ron
BIRTHDAY: 1 March, 1980
GENDER (PRONOUNS): Cismale (he/him)
SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, very crude and limited French
ACCENT:
BIRTHPLACE: Devon, England
ASTROLOGICAL SIGN(S): Pisces
BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood
FORMER HOGWARTS HOUSE: Gryffindor
HIGHEST LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Sixth year at Hogwarts, nearly finished with Auror training
OCCUPATION: Auror trainee
HOME ADDRESS: The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England
PET(S): Pigwidgeon "Pig" the owl
FACECLAIM AND/OR DESCRIPTION: George Mackay is who I'll use as an avatar, but no one quite fits the version of Ron in my head. I'm sure there's some obscure model FC out there who would be perfect, but the fact is I just don't care enough to find them. Quick and dirty description then is: very tall, bright red hair, lots and lots of freckles all over his body, a long, straight nose, blue eyes, and an earnest face.
VISUAL REPRESENTATION: If needed I'll use George Mackay, but I don't love using resources.
PLOTS
List or link any plots you are currently after!
RELATIONSHIPS
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bi-curious, though not realized
ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP(S): None at the moment
PARENTS: Molly and Arthur Weasley
SIBLINGS: Ginny Weasley, George Weasley, Fred Weasley (deceased), Percy Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley
MAGIC
PATRONUS: Jack Russell terrier
BOGGART: A massive spider crouched over the corpses of his family and friends (some things change when you've lived through a war and some things don't)
WAND TYPE: Willow, fourteen inches with a unicorn tail-hair core (recovered from Malfoy Manor in the summer of 1998)
FLYING ABILITY: Advanced, though not Expert
APPARITION SKILL: Moderate to High
MAGICAL STRENGTHS: Defensive magic, household charms
MAGICAL WEAKNESSES: Wandless magic, potion-brewing
BEST HOGWARTS CLASS: Charms (but if asked, he'll lie and say Defense Against the Dark Arts)
WORST HOGWARTS CLASS: Potions
OTHER ABILITIES: Strategy, mimicry, improvisation/adaptation
PHYSICAL
HAIR COLOUR/STYLE: Bright red, tends to be a bit shaggy more often than not
EYE COLOUR: Blue
COMPLEXION: Fair but extremely freckly
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
HEIGHT: 6'6"
PHYSIQUE: Still lanky, but Auror training is filling him out
TATTOOS: None
PIERCINGS: None
SCARS: Pale white tendril scars that run from his shoulders to his wrists on both arms (from the brains in the Department of Mysteries), a nasty pink scar on his left shoulder from splinching
CLOTHING/STYLE: Having grown up quite poor, Ron didn’t know what to do with the hefty (for him) sum of money being an Auror trainee yielded. He’d never forgotten what it was like to wear poorly-fitted hand-me-downs, so it was unsurprising when he invested in as fine a wardrobe as any he’d had before. It’s not pretentious or gawdy, but he likes to look sharp and he’s now in a financial position to do so.
MANNERISMS:
HABITS:
COPING MECHANISMS: Throwing himself into Auror training with so much ferocity that he crashes when it’s over - if he’s not conscious, he can’t dwell on everything the war took from him. Throw in a little liquor and a little not-unkind avoidance of his family members and you’ve got Ron post-war.
PERSONALITY
POSITIVE TRAITS: Loyal, generous, friendly
NEGATIVE TRAITS: Insecure, reactive/hot-tempered, stubborn
HOBBIES: Wizards' chess, Exploding Snap, sleeping, pick-up quidditch, hanging with the boys
INTERESTS:
DRINK ORDER: Firewhisky, or beer or regular whiskey in muggle company
GRADUATION SUPERLATIVE: Mostly Likely to...Who is this again?
CONFIDENCES: Flying, chess
INSECURITIES: Everything? It’s a long list.
MBTI TYPE: ESFP-T
ENNEAGRAM:
MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral good
TEMPERAMENT:
DEADLY SIN:
THIS OR THAT
INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT
OPTIMIST OR PESSIMIST
LEADER OR FOLLOWER
CONFIDENT OR SELF-CONSCIOUS
CAUTIOUS OR CARELESS
PASSIONATE OR APATHETIC
BOOK SMARTS OR STREET SMARTS
COMPLIMENTS OR INSULTS
COLD HANDS OR WARM HEART
ASSOCIATIONS
COLOURS: Red, maroon, orange
WORDS: Curse words
SCENT: Baking bread, an open fire
TASTE: Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans
SOUND: Tea kettle, twittering birds, crackling fire
MAGIC: Family
WEATHER: Sunshine
FEELINGS: Confused
MEMORIES: Love
TOUCH: Tight hug
HEADCANONS
In the months following the war, Ron felt a fierce duty to his family. He'd been absent for most of the previous year, after all, and his guilt now kept him in close proximity. He spent most of his time helping George at the joke shop, or just helping George in general, but it often felt like he was single-handedly trying to hold together the pieces of a broken world. He slogged through the summer, hanging in limbo between that self-imposed duty to his family and an overwhelming desire to distance himself from it all. Even after taking up Kingsley on his offer to join the ranks of the Aurors, guilt gnawed at his conscience. There is a constant tug of war inside him, a tension that even the toughest training exercise can't cut; he wants so desperately to help his family, to be there for them, but he hasn't forgotten those draining months after the final battle either. He still technically lives at the Burrow, but the time he spends there conscious or coherent is sparse at best.
Sleep was difficult to come by; June of 1998 came and went and Ron doubted he'd once gotten a good night's sleep. He tried a sleeping draught, following in the footsteps of both George and his mother in that regard, but something about it didn't sit right with him. He slept under the influence of the potion, yes, but he didn't dream. It was nice to block out the nightmares that so often kept him awake, but the good dreams were absent as well and he missed them. An easier solution came in the form of drinking. He split his time that summer between George's flat and the joke shop, his own attic bedroom at the Burrow, and every wizarding pub from Ottery St. Catchpole to London Proper. When he couldn't get out, he found solace in the bottle of Ogden's Olde under his bed. It was a problem, but it never became a problem; Auror training began in the fall, and that provided him with a much healthier way of coping. It turns out that pushing your body and mind to the limit on a daily basis makes it surprisingly easy to fall asleep - and by "fall asleep" I mean "pass out on the nearest horizontal surface." He does enjoy drinking, though, and he has a tendency to overdo it at times - addictive personality and all that. And hanging around with Seamus and Harry, well…They've always talked each other into the worst sorts of trouble, and that hasn't changed.
It was late summer when Kingsley approached him about joining the Aurors. Ron was flattered and taken aback, but he was also embarrassed at how quickly he accepted. He didn't think he could stand hovering in post-war limbo much longer, and training was the perfect outlet. He finally felt important, like an asset to society; if there was anything he wanted, it was to do something to ensure that a war would never happen again, and it didn't get more concrete than hunting down dark wizards. He threw himself into training with more gusto than he'd ever shown for schoolwork, and the closer he gets to becoming a proper Auror (just two short months), the harder he tries. He has always had lofty aspirations (the Mirror of Erised showed us that), and they're finally coming to fruition.
Once Auror training started, Ron started commuting to the Ministry on a regular basis. He had been to London before, had been around muggles plenty of times, but he was equal parts transfixed and flabbergasted the first time he saw a couple of muggle kids riding skateboards (“Cool.”). He told Harry immediately, and not two days later the two were laughing in front of the Burrow, failing miserably at riding the skateboards they’d purchased and tried to bewitch. They were boys being boys, and after all they’d been through they deserved whatever joy and laughter they could get. However, their skills never expanded past mediocre; Ginny was a natural the first time she gave it a whirl, for which she was promptly dismissed by her disgruntled brother (“Look, if you’re not going to fail at this like the rest of us, then fuck off.”).
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Bulma
Give me a character and I will answer:
Why I like them: Somewhere around 1998, Kurt Busiek took over as the writer for the Iron Man comic. This was back when Iron Man wasn’t particularly popular and the last two attempts to reboot the guy had failed. I read an interview in Wizard Magazine where Kurt promoted his upcoming run, and he explained the character this way: Tony Stark is a superhero, an inventor, a ladies’ man, and a billionaire. You could have a blast writing a comic book about any one of those four things, but he’s all four. I may have gotten those four items wrong, partly because it’s been 22 years, and partly because it was more famous when Robert Downey Junior echoed that pitch in 2012. Take away the armor, and what is he? A billionaire genius philanthropist.
My point is that this is the appeal to Bulma as well. When we first meet her, she’s an adventurer, but then we find out she invented the device that lets her locate the Dragon Balls. And her mission is a romantic quest, so she’s like the heroine in a romance story. Then we meet her parents, and it turns out she’s a wealthy heiress. Well, I’m assuming Dr. Brief doesn’t plan on leaving his fortune to all of his pets, but you get the idea.
There’s a lot of versatility to the character. Some arcs barely make use of her, but others take full advantage. You can plop her in almost any scenario and it works. You want to write her at a fancy charity dinner? She’d fit right in. You want her teaching shop class in your high school AU? No problem at all. You want her to seduce a bad guy? You want her to shoot a bad guy? You want her to be the bad guy? It all works.
The main thing people dislike about Bulma is the way she treated Yamcha when they were together, and she’s kind of a jerk a lot of the time. Fair point, but I think this adds to the character. If she were sweet as could be and a rich, attractive polymath, she’d be downright insufferable. Also, her attitude plays off of the compassion she shows through the series. I can’t explain her behavior around Yamcha, but she did offer free room and board to the entire population of Namek, so I feel like that needs to be taken into consideration.
Why I don’t: In the first... hundred or so episodes of DBZ, Bulma doesn’t get a lot of chances to shine, despite all the screentime they gave her. Early into my DBZ-watching experience, I found her to be something like a shriller version of TMNT’s April O’Neil, a sidekick whose job was to look cute and get into danger so the good guys could save her. She really doesn’t get back into her groove until she returns to Earth, and once I saw those episodes, and her time in the original Dragon Ball, the character began to make a lot more sense. Really, the Bulma in DBZ #1 through 108 was probably intended to demonstrate how out-of-hand the situation was. She fixed the scouter and then it exploded. She fixed Nappa’s spaceship and it exploded. She fixed Kami’s spaceship and then Namek exploded. She just couldn’t keep up with the crisis.
Favorite episode (scene if movie):
Not exactly any one episode, but one of my favorite bits in the Red Ribbon Army Sagas is that the RRA has their own Dragon Radar, but it’s not portable, or anywhere near as precise as the one Bulma invented. It’s Goku’s biggest advantage during that conflict, and when it breaks, there’s literally no one else who can fix it. Those magic babies from Arale could make a new one, but I’m pretty sure they only did that by copying the design or something. And the RRA assumes that Goku must have an entire team of scientists providing him with logistical support, and that Master Roshi must be their leader, since he’s so old.
Also, near the end of the arc, Bulma needs to call Yamcha on the phone, but Roshi doesn’t have one, and then Turtle suggests that Bulma should just build one from scratch, since she had just finished building a robot drone a few episodes earlier. And she’s like “Oh, yeah, I forgot I knew how to do that.”
Favorite season/movie: The Androids/Cell arc is a big deal because it has two Bulmas, and her son is in it too.
And this is what I mean when I talk about versatility. That Super Dragon Ball Heroes series has two Gokus and two Vegetas, and I have no idea why, because they’re exactly the same, except one pair does SSJ4 and the other does Super Saiyan Blue. Bulma’s got more layers, so in a story like this, you can have 30-something Bulma care for an infant son and tackle logistical problems while she figures out her relationship with Vegeta, while the 50-something Bulma in the future can be this strong-yet-gentle post-apocalyptic survivalist, who hopes for a better tomorrow as she longs for her fallen friends.
Favorite line: I’m gonna stray from the canon for a minute, because I’m having trouble coming up with something, but in DBZ Abridged, when she’s arguing with Vegeta during his training session, they just start shouting “Fuck you!” at each other. Then she stops and says: “My room. Ten minutes.”
And holy shit, the delivery on that line was incredible. I knew they’d try to do something to set up their relationship, but there’s no footage to do that with, so they did it all with one line and some killer VA work.
Favorite outfit: This is a big, big wardrobe to choose from, but I’m partial to the one she wore in the Imperfect Cell Saga.
I can’t really explain the appeal, but I like this hairstyle and the clothing looks like authentic stuff you could actually buy at a store, which just makes it feel more real, even though it’s not any more detailed than her other outfits. I’m not sure that makes any sense. The trucker hat looks cute on her, let’s leave it there.
OTP: You know, there’s a lot of chemistry between Bulma and Yajirobe, and even though it’s kind of a rarepair, I can’t help but-- Okay, it’s her and Vegeta. I’ll stop messing around.
Brotp: Definitely her and Goku. I’m imagining the set up to the DBS Broly movie going like this.
“Hey, I’m gonna invite Goku along on our trip. That way you can fight him when you get bored.”
“Why do you keep asking him to tag along I can’t stand him.”
“Yeah, but I like him and I paid for the resort, so I guess you gotta deal with it.”
“...”
Then he shows up and she sends him on some ridiculous mission to search the ocean floor for sunken treasure or something.
Head Canon: Future Bulma does tech support in Toki Toki/Conton City, because Xenoverse is canon and the Goku Black Saga can just bugger right off because it never happened.
She shows up from time to time to check on all the Capsule Corp tech in the city, and she drops by just to say hi to her boy, and also she has coffee with my Mary Sue OC, because Future Bulma appreciates how tough and cool my writing is.
Unpopular opinion: The Vegebul ship probably gets way too much attention. Not that it’s a bad ship or that it doesn’t deserve the attention, but it feels like a buffet where all anyone gets is ranch dressing. They just ignore the rest of the spread and fill an entire bowl with ranch and head back to the table to drink it. Then they come right back and line up for another helping.
I’m not knocking it. I have a Vegebul calendar in my kitchen. But it reminds me of how the “comics fandom” in the late 90′s was really just an X-Men fandom that acknowledged that other comic books hypothetically existed.
They’re gonna come after me now, aren’t they?
A wish: A lifetime supply of strawberries does sound kind of nice...
An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I hope we’re done with Bulma’s Resurrection F outfit for good. The cowboy boots, no, we’re done with that.
5 words to best describe them: Five would never be enough.
My nickname for them: Don’t have one. Vegeta calls her “woman”, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well if I started doing that.
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Greta Catchlove Intro
BASICS
★ BIRTH DATE / 25 February, 1960
★ BLOOD STATUS / Muggleborn
★ PRONOUNS & IDENTITY / she/her; cis female
★ FACECLAIM / Sydney Sweeney
ACADEMICS & ROOMING
★ PRIMARY SCHOOL / London School of Witchcraft, class of 1978
★ ACADEMIC PURSUITS / Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts, class of 1980
tw: disordered eating
POINTS OF INTEREST
★ She was only fourteen years old when an aspiring fashion designer discovered her in a small boutique in London while she was shopping with her mother. The designer approached Greta, saying she had the perfect look for her line she’d just finished up and was soon to launch in springtime. She’d never modelled in her life -- but when someone of the industry was telling you, that you had it, that you had the look, it gave you every bit of confidence to go through with it. Now Greta’s been modelling since fourteen, in both the muggle and wizarding world. At just the age of sixteen, she was selected for a contract with Witch Weekly. The magazine often discovered fresh faces and now Greta would be one for the era of the 70′s.
★ Greta walked onto a photoshoot with slightly shorter hair once and was almost immediately fired. It shook her up good. She already knew this world she was in heavily depended on her looks, but when something as simple as a haircut or eating an extra bagel meant receiving harsh scrutiny, she began to pull back. Witch Weekly was already searching for a fresher face, because that’s how the modelling world was constantly evolving. She loved the creativity she was allowed to bring onto each set, but maybe this was no longer the career for her. Her mind was suddenly set onto acting, amazed by the way you could be one person on Monday and someone completely different by Saturday with no shaming. There were stories to be told and Greta wanted to be the voice of them. She had never planned on going to school after primary, but she enrolled into the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts for acting specifically.
★ Based on a steady stream of reviews that came in after every production the WADA put on (and there were a lot...), it was clear... Greta needed to work even harder. Here she was again, facing harsh criticisms. Her acting was mediocre at best, wrote one critic. After pulling back on modelling, was she about to do the same with acting? She has contemplated leaving school more than she’s focused on reading her lines by now. Greta’s stressed.
★ Michael ‘Mickey’ Catchlove’s job was something she’d always admired with a full heart, wide eyes, and lots of curious questions. Mr. Catchlove owned a toy shop in the heart of muggle London called Catch the Wonder, granting wishes of young children all throughout the city. She’d worked there a couple of summers, watching in amazement and even feeling inspired to do something herself. Of course if there was anything she and dad would connect on, it was the child-like spark that still burned bright in both of their adult lives. Soon she began turning the drawings from children into stuffed toys, bringing all of their creations to life. It’s been a work of trial and error, but she hopes to start up her own business in the wizarding world, or better yet, add to her father’s. It will definitely keep her busy between lessons.
TRAITS
✓ warm-hearted; optimistic; open
✗ gullible; lack of backbone; easily flustered
OTHER FUN THAAAANGS
here’s her about! and her pinterest! i apologize for her aesthetic DLFL;SJFKJASF she looks like she shops at claire’s
b/c she has had many brand deals while being with witchy weekly, she has acquired quite a wardrobe and is often giving away things to friends. so if you’re friends with greta, say HOLLA to some new designer clothes LOL!! she feels very fortunate as she grew up workin’ class/not very fortunate at all
muggleborn! so! there’s ThOsE kinda connections to be made too :eyeemoji:
i was not kiddin’ in the group chat when i said i was makin’ this b tall LDJF;LSJDFJSF holla 5′11 and often wearing some form of heel/wedges. we like to see everything, thank you
does anyone have a single dad? asking for a plot ;LDSJFLAKSDJAF NO GRETA IS NOT TRYIN HOOK UP WITH YOUR FATHERS. it’s for something else okay SDFKJLFJA;LSKDFJ
looooves a good cheese board! can’t wait for this retired model to write a book about cheese in her future LMAO chrissy teigen who????
ADHD queen, like all of us
is also the queen of making friends, so i feel like she knows A LOTTA PEOPLE. she went to london school! so anything stemming from that is great to start with. but literally anyone, yes pls. she probably comes around hogwarts whenever they’re putting on a play or something anyway too!!!
if your characters have any bbs or siblings or cousins or little ones in their lives that have made drawings, let greta bring them to life as stuffed animals as a special gift!!! <3
and of course, hmu to plot connections or anything. she is mah child. my day one marauder baby so im real excited to play this new and improved version of her yay!!!! thanks for reading yall <3
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Dimension Jumping pt. 2
The Fellowship x Reader
Fluffy pants, creepy coworkers, and grocery lists. Fun times
Trigger warning: mentions of stalker.
After that kind of rocky introduction and confusing explanation of their quest and what they were doing exactly (also what happened to their wizard ‘Gandalf’) things began to work out better.
At first, they were in a kind of panic since they aren’t able to destroy that ring thing if they’re in your world, but then you reminded them that they can’t destroy it, and this Sauron guy can’t get it.
This seems to ease their worries a bit.
It was very easy for you to get along with the two blond 'hobbit’ cousins Merry and Pippin, and Samwise is a wonderful help in the kitchen. Mr. Legolas kinda just awkwardly stands around most of the time (he doesn’t sleep apparently), while the 'dwarf’, Gimli, likes to bother said 'elf’ which you find to be quite amusing. The two actual human dudes seem to be the more authoritative figures here, so they help to keep everyone in check and ensure they don’t break anything.
Penny has, quite literally, fallen in love with that brown-haired bastard Aragorn, and you’ve sworn that if he breaks her little fluffy heart you’re going to fucking murder him. Lucky for him, it seems he is quite fond of her in return since he sometimes sits idly on your couch with her laying across his lap. This asshole must have dog treats in his pocket or something because there’s no way she would ditch you for some scraggly handsome stranger like in the movies.
Of course, you don’t complain about it or anything, rather you just leave it and enjoy the fact that Penny is happy (while silently plotting his painful murder in your mind).
You also had to show them how to work the bathroom, and after they got over their initial shock and awestruck, they all bathed (thank god for your poor nose) and you offered to go get them more clothes later on so you can figure out how to wash theirs.
Overall, it seems that everything is going smoothly and will continue to do so.
You have yet to give them a chance to mess with your laptop or phone (or even the TV), but mostly because you’re afraid they’ll die of shock.
Before you know it a week has passed, and not only are they still in your damn home but they’re so freaking well-behaved and polite you actually find yourself not wanting them to go.
“Why do you wear those fluffy pants?” The sweet little Pippin asks.
Everyone insists he and his cousin are mischievous little monsters, but you find them to be nothing but adorable and polite. “Because, my dear boy, they are really freaking comfortable. I’m gonna go to the store later and get all of you a pair. They will change your lives."
His eyes grow wide at your overly dramatic description of fluffy pants and he suddenly seems excited, "Really? Some for all of us?"
You nod your head with a bright smile on your face, lifting your leg up for him to touch it. "Feel how nice they are!"
When Pippin places his hand on the soft, fuzzy fabric he looks surprised, "I don’t think I’ve felt trousers so soft before!"
"Fluffy pants, Pippin. They’re called fluffy pants."
"Fluffy pants.” He repeats in confirmation.
His cousin, Merry, chose then to walk into the room, and when he sees the two of you he looks confused. “Pip, what are you doing?"
"Oh! Merry, come here and feel these!” He exclaims, not bothering to answer his question.
Merry does as he says, albeit hesitantly, but when his hands touch that miracle fabric he looks just as shocked, “You’ve got such peculiar clothing… I like it."
"Well, I was just telling my buddy over here that I’m going to get everyone some and absolutely ruin your wardrobe since you’ll never want to wear anything but these ever again.” You tell him smugly, jumping to your feet suddenly, “Oh, I’ve gotta go do something. Keep an eye on Penny for me, won’t you?"
Yeah, they don’t need to since she’s busy sleeping on a napping Aragorn, but you ask nonetheless.
You retreat to another room and begin to organize the things you moved from your guest bedroom, wanting everything to be less cluttered while they stay here.
The air mattress had to come out and everything because of how many there are, but you don’t mind a little extra work for some companionship in response. Heaven knows you need someone to keep you out of your own head.
While you’re neatening things, the blond elf guy walks in and observes you for a few moments, saying nothing and kinda just standing there. You turn after a minute or so and look at him questioningly, "Is there something I can help you with?"
He doesn’t say anything right away, and so you grab a couple of books and straighten them while you wait.
"What are you doing?” He asks instead of answering you (a very Pippin move).
Despite your heart wanting you to be sarcastic in your reply you answer him seriously, “I’m cleaning up a bit since I had to take all of this stuff out of my guest room. It’s kinda messy if you couldn’t tell."
You wipe your hands on your fluffy pants and smile at him. "I’m almost done. Did you need me for something?"
He actually acknowledges your question this time with a shake of his head, "No. I wanted to see if you require any assistance."
Ah, that makes sense. He definitely seems like the helpful type.
"Oh, well some help would be nice. Maybe you could move those boxes,” you point to some cardboard boxes in the corner of the closet you shoved everything into, “over there.” You then point to a shelf that is mostly empty.
He nods again and goes to do just that right away, and you go back to sorting through a box full of papers.
“What made you allow us to stay?” He suddenly inquires, lifting the boxes you asked for help with easily.
You’re a bit surprised at his engagement in conversation and the topic he chose, but you answer despite that. “Well like I said before, I know a group of sad saps when I see it… I didn’t know you’d lost your friend, but I could tell something wasn’t right. And… I don’t know, your hobbits looked so hungry and tired, I couldn’t kick you all out and keep a clean conscience.” It’s true, but what you leave out is the desire you had for some company. Penny is more than enough, but recently you’ve been feeling lonely and inadequate, so you jumped on the opportunity to be useful in your monotone life.
“There’s something you’re not saying.” He says it like a statement rather than a question, and while he’s right you only shrug.
“My reasons are my own, but what I told you is my main explanation. Take it or leave it.” You don’t mean to act so cold and aloof, but the thinking about your flaws and recently depressive state only serves to dampen your mood.
“I meant not to offend, I apologize if upset you. I was only curious."
You smile at him over your shoulder apologetically yourself, "No, don’t say sorry. I’m just a bit cranky is all, haven’t been getting much sleep."
He can tell that’s not the truth, but he nods anyway and lets it drop.
Suddenly the sound of Penny barking reaches your ears, and you sigh knowing that someone is probably at the door.
When she abruptly stops, you pause and decide to finish with the last small stack you have before going out to check.
Big mistake.
Once you walk out of the storage closet, you’re met with the sight of two hiding hobbits, and Aragorn at the freaking door. Your eyes widen in horror, and you turn and close the door in Legolas’ face before he can exit.
When the door slams, someone pokes their head around the tall 'ranger’ and smiles.
"Oh, Y/N there you are!"
Uh oh, he’s not supposed to be there.
"B-Brian, hey, what… what are you doing here?” You ask slowly, walking over to try and diffuse whatever situation is going on here. “I didn’t even know you knew my address…"
He smiles brightly despite that and waves his hand, "Don’t worry about it, the boss gave it to me and told me to check up on you! You haven’t been answering your messages and this is the most work you’ve missed in the past, like, 4 years.” His tone is bright and cheery, but you can see behind that mask of pleasantries is nothing but a prying brat who has to know everything 24/7.
You ignore your dark thoughts and simply smile at him in return, “Yes, well I’ve been very busy. And, actually, I texted Marissa about my absence for the week ahead of time, so I don’t see why she would send you. She told me that I can work from home until I’m ready to come back.” You never liked Brian. Much too nosy and too much of a snake for your liking.
You pull your phone out of your pocket and see that you have… holy shit, 43 missed messages? All from Brian? Ew, okay, that’s weird.
But you decide not to comment on it.
“Right, well, who is this? I haven’t seen him before."
Shoot.
You look up at the brown-haired man sharply, then back at Brian. "W-Who, him? Oh, this is just my… boy…friend… Ara- Er, Aaron. He’s, uh, staying here because his house burned down.” God, you’re a horrible liar, but you try to keep your face straight either way. “Who he is doesn’t matter, I’m kinda busy right now so if you could just…"
You go to close the door, but he only steps a bit closer, "Wait-! I didn’t know you have a boyfriend!” His expression is more panic stricken now, and dare I say upset,
Ughhhhh fucking Brian .
Suddenly a voice pipes up from behind you, “Is there an issue over here?"
Oh great, another challenger has appeared, and his name is freaking Boromir.
"Wait, who is this then?” His countenance goes kinda sour, “Your other boyfriend?"
You face-palm and slowly drag your hand down your cheek, groaning internally at his horrible timing (also electing to ignore Brian’s bitter comment). "This is… Aaron’s druggie brother, Bo…Beau. He likes meth.”
Brian looks alarmed at your mention of him being a meth head, but you only smile and internally kick yourself for coming up with something like that . “You have crackheads staying at your house?! With how you’ve been recently?! S-Should I-"
You only shake your head once and slam your hand on the wall, "Brian, I am a big girl, and big girls don’t need their coworkers to keep them safe. I’ve been nice, but what I do is literally none of your fucking business, so leave me alone or I’ll call Marissa and tell her about,” you pause and lean forward, whispering with a faux sweet voice, “The janitors closet…"
His face goes pale at the mention of the horrid sight you’d walked into that one faithful Tuesday, and he nods his head in understanding, "R-Right, sorry to bother you! I’ll uh, get going now then. Enjoy your break!"
He’s gone before you even close the door.
You simply stare at the closed door for a few moments, trying to process what the hell just happened.
"Miss Y/N?” Merry calls from behind the couch. “What did he mean by 'how you’ve been’? Are you alright?"
Unable to keep your cool, you reach up and bury your fingers in your hair and groan loudly from frustration, "Ugh! Fucking Brian! Why did you have to open the door to that loser!?” You yell incredulously, pulling on your hair rather harshly. You don’t even entertain the idea of answering that question.
Aragorn seems surprised by your sudden angry outburst, so much so that he steps back and bumps against the wall.
“He’s always in my damn business! Acting like I haven’t caught him doing unmentionable things in that closet! Why him? Why did you think it was a good idea to open the door?!” You don’t mean to yell or to get so angry, but it’s almost like a splash of cold water in the face. A reminder that things are temporary and unexplainable to outsiders. “He’s such a stalker! God, this is going to come back and bite me in the ass!”
You drag your hands down your face and simply stand there for a moment, ignoring all the people gathering in your living room to stare at their mental brake-down having hostess.
“I apologize, I-I didn’t mean to-” Woah he actually trips over his words.
Before he can finish his apology you raise a hand up in a silencing motion. “No, shut up. Don’t apologize I’m not actually mad at you.” It sounds like you are, but you aren’t.
If you were looking at him, you’d see that he visibly relaxes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell I just… he frustrates me. I’m not angry at any of you, I promise.” You drop your hands back to your side and stare at the door for a few moments before turning and walking back into the living room.
“You’re kind of scary,” Sam states from Frodo’s side at the entrance of the kitchen.
You look over at the two and furrow your eyebrows, “Scary? Me? No way. Just a little irritated.” If anything they’re the scary ones, with their swords and evil ring and all that.
You glance back at the dark-haired man still at the front door and bite your lip, “I’m really sorry."
A small and forgiving smile creeps onto his face, and you feel relieved right away. "Perhaps I shouldn’t have opened the door."
This earns a small laugh and nod from you, "Now that freak thinks you’re my homeless male friend and he’s your drugged up brother. Not a very good reputation.” You don’t bother going over calling him your boyfriend in a panic - if they even know what it means in the first place.
Suddenly ever innocent Pippin asks, “What’s meth?"
Lord save your soul.
—
After explaining to everyone what meth is and how you straight up just called Boromir a doped up loser to someone none of them know, you all have a good laugh. And once you’re all done laughing, you join Sam in the kitchen and notice that he’s taken an inventory of your kitchen.
"Hello, chef Ramsay. What can I do for you?” You ask with a cheery smile, watching him go through your cupboard while literally standing on the counter with Frodo watching from the floor.
“Who is chef Ramsay?” Sam asks, looking down at you from his leveraged spot on the counter.
Oh, right, the poor soul doesn’t know the meme.
“Nobody, what are you up to?” You change the subject quickly, a part of you hoping he approves of your kitchen.
“Well… your shelves are lacking a lot. And your… what did you call it, fridge? It is basically empty. What do you eat all week?"
You don’t reply right away, staring holes into him at his obviously spotty memory. "Well, Sam the thing is, I am one woman, and this one woman didn’t think she’d need to buy groceries for 8 men who all eat like they haven’t seen food for the past week… every meal."
"So then perhaps we should go shopping!” He exclaims, closing the cabinet and hopping back down to the tiled floor.
Excuse me, did he just say 'we’? Uh, yeah no.
You shake your head quickly, “No, Sam there aren’t people like you in my world. I can’t take you."
His face falls and he looks around at the kitchen, crestfallen, "But I can’t tell you what to get if I don’t go…"
Aw… he looks so sad. It makes your heart pang uncomfortably, and you find that you wanna make him smile again. "Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll get some paper and a pen, and you can write down everything you want me to get on that. How does that sound?”
Almost immediately he perks up and nods his head, “Oh, that sounds wonderful!"
Bingo.
"Did you hear that Mr. Frodo? She said she’ll get whatever we want! Come help me make the list!” Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
You gather the things you promised from a drawer to your right, then hand them down to him. “Here you are, dear. Take your time, and I’ll go tomorrow. And don’t forget to ask everyone else what they want.”
Hopefully, you won’t live to regret this.
Without further ado, he rushes out of the kitchen calling for Merry and Pippin.
These fellas are going to bankrupt you… but if you get to see those happy smiles again, then it’s definitely worth it.
#reader#the fellowship of the ring x reader#the fellowship x reader#the fellowship of the ring#tolkien#lord of the rings fanfiction#lord of the rings#the lord of the rings#humor#angst#boromir#aragorn#pippin took#pippin#merry x reader#merry#merry brandybuck#pippin took x reader#boromir x reader#aragorn x reader#legolas greenleaf#legolas x reader#legolas#gimli son of gloin#gimli#frodo baggins#frodo#sam#sam gamgee#dimension jumping
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Looking Up For Heaven - Oneshot
Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, you remember things - the other life, people call it. Jaskier's heard the stories of this other life: witches, wizards, magic, medieval but not quite medieval. His flatmate, Yennefer, has already met her soulmate, and remembers the other life, but Jaskier is still not sold on the idea, and would rather not be a part of this bullshit.
Pairing/Warnings: Geralt x Jaskier, Modern AU, Soulmate AU
A/n: Look this is either the most creative fic I’ve ever written, or just one big pile of flaming garbage, that’s honestly up to you to decide. Title and idea from Glory by Bastille (and my fav song ever!). As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and don’t hesitate to leave a like and a comment if you feel like it!
You can also read this on AO3! M A S T E R L I S T
Jaskier sighs as he stares at his reflection the mirror, hand threading through his hair. It’s slightly greasy and he remembers he forgot to take a shower today. Again. For the third day in a row. Goddammit.
He sighs again, looking at his flatmate in the reflection of the mirror, as she pulls her raven curls up into a ponytail. “Do I really have to go, Yen?” He ignores how whiny he sounds, instead leaning on the wash basin with his forearms, chin resting on them as he pouts at Yennefer’s reflection.
She scoffs from where she’s sitting on the edge of the once-white bath, tying her ponytail with one of her girlfriend’s scrunchies, the bright yellow a stark contrast with the rest of her exclusively black outfit. “Yes, you have to go, Julian. You promised a week ago that you would, and Triss will be really upset if you don’t show up.”
She gets up from the side of the tub, taking the half step towards the wash basin, pushing him aside. “Scoot, idiot.” She takes her eyeliner from the open cabinet next to the mirror, uncapping it, leaning her elbow next to the sink as she slowly, deliberately, traces a line over her eyelid. “I swear to god, if you make her sad, I will throw all your food in the trash and bend the needle of your record player.”
He frowns, leaning back against the edge of the sink, arms crossed in front of him. “Fine, whatever, I’ll go, then. Just don’t break my record player. It took me five weekends at bloody Starbucks to afford it.” He suppresses a shudder at the memory of working customer service.
Yennefer finishes her eyeliner, grabbing her mascara from the cabinet. He takes the eyeliner from where it’s lying on the sink, twirling it in his hands, as she rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t even know why you want a record player so badly, but okay. You know you can just stream music, right?”
He scoffs. “Oh, please, everyone knows vinyl sounds better than digital.”
She side-eyes him, eyes widening for a bit as she looks at her reflection again. “Okay, grandpa, if you say so.”
He sighs again, still twirling the eyeliner in his hands, as she finishes her mascara, pulling her ponytail taut again – even though it’s not sagging in the slightest. She finishes her makeup with a dark lipstick, before casting a last wink at her reflection and turning her back to the mirror, leaning against the sink, next to him. “Alright, what is it, Julian? We’ve been living together long enough for me to recognize an ‘I’m so sad please ask me if I’m okay’-sigh when I hear one.”
He side-eyes her for a moment, but she simply stares at him, dark-painted lips pursed, violet eyes stubborn, waiting for him to speak. After a few moments he sighs again, relenting under her unforgiving gaze. “Fine, I really don’t feel like going to this party.” He looks at her, cutting her off before she can scold him again: “Yes, I know Triss would be upset if I didn’t show up, but, like, I don’t know anyone there, and you know I hate crowds.”
She rolls her eyes. “Here’s an idea: maybe if you made some fucking friends for once, you’d actually know someone at this party. You really need to go out more, you can’t just sit in the flat all day, pretending to study.”
He gapes at her. “I do study, like, all the time! Hell, I have two essays due next week that I need a lot of time for. And if I didn’t go to the party, I’d actually be able to finish them in time.”
She scoffs, shaking her head slightly as she looks at the once-blue tiles of the wall opposite them. “Yeah, sure. I know you procrastinate, Julian. A lot. You’re just using these essays as an excuse to stay at home. We’re both well aware you wouldn’t do shit.”
He sighs, throwing his head back a bit. “Okay, fine, maybe I would spend all evening bingeing Netflix. Still, that’s a hell of a lot more fun than standing in the corner of some bar all evening. I love Triss, I really do, but I’m not willing to spend all those hours bored out of my mind and getting panic attacks when there’s too many people.”
She sighs, bumping into his shoulder slightly. “I know, alright? I know you can’t really talk to people and that crowds make you anxious, and I know that this evening is probably going to be a waste of time for you, but you promised, okay? You promised Triss that you would be there and she’s really looking forward to seeing you again. She’s going to be really disappointed if you don’t show up.” Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. “And so am I. You really need to go out more, Julian, you can’t spend the rest of your life cooped up in this apartment. You’re never going to make other friends or meet your soulmate if you sit inside all day.”
He scoffs at his feet when she mentions soulmates, but she simply ducks her head to meet his eyes. “Please, Julian, just go to this one party. If not for yourself or Triss, then for me.”
He sighs again, throwing his head back, looking at the mouldy ceiling. “Fine, fine, I’ll go. If only to stop you nagging.”
She laughs. “Oh, please, I’m never going to stop nagging. Speaking of,” she looks at him, one perfect eyebrow arched up, “you seriously need a change of clothes before we leave.”
He frowns at her. “As opposed to changing my clothes after we leave?” He laughs as she smacks him in the back of his head.
“You know what I meant, idiot. Seriously, at least wear some jeans, you look like you live in your mum’s basement and play Fortnite all day.” She gestures at his sweatpants, and he rolls his eyes. “And at least wear, like, a hoodie. It’s cold outside and that thin-ass shirt won’t be enough to keep you warm.”
He rolls his eyes, but pushes away from the sink anyway, calling over his shoulder as he walks to his bedroom. “Fine, alright! Jeez, mum. What’s next? You’ll tell me I have to comb my hair and part it in the middle so I can bedazzle my soulmate with my charming good looks?”
He rummages through his closet, pulling out the least crumpled jeans out from the pile of unfolded clothes, as he hears Yennefer letting herself fall on his unmade bed. “Actually, yes. I think you’d look dashing with a middle part and you’d be sure to instantly woo your soulmate once you meet them.”
He snorts as he pulls off his sweatpants, wiggling into the slightly too skinny jeans. “I don’t think I’m going to meet my soulmate, like, ever.” He struggles with the button a bit, sucking in his stomach. “Don’t think I want to.”
Yennefer looks at him, frowning a bit. “Why not? It’s such great fun, honestly. Like, you get all these memories of this cool-ass other life, and you get an added bonus of, you know, having a soulmate. Like, me and Triss didn’t even have to date, I immediately got this amazing girlfriend. It’s a win-win, my dude.”
He scoffs, rummaging through the pile of clothes at the bottom of his wardrobe again, pulling out a light blue hoodie with great difficulty. “Okay, first of all, you got lucky with Triss. There are a ton of people who end up hating their soulmate.” She shrugs, snorting as he struggles to pull the hoodie over his head. “Secondly,” he continues, when he has finally managed to put it on, “why would I want to know about the other life? Huh?”
Yennefer scoffs, as he sits on his desk chair, pulling on his Vans. “Because it’s cool as fuck. Did you know I was a witch in the other life? So was Triss, by the way.” She sighs, looking at her phone. “Though, I do miss being able to portal everywhere, that was really tight.”
He pulls his leg up, tying his shoelaces. “See? I don’t want to miss something I’ll never be able to get back. Also, your other life was cool, sure, but what if mine sucks, huh? What then? What if I died, like, the most stupid death humanly possible? And that’s another thing,” he continues to rant, as he ties the laces of his other shoe, “why would I want to remember how I died? That sounds like shit. Like, you remember how you died in the other life, that’s not a fun memory, right?”
Yennefer shrugs. “I mean, I got stabbed and fell off a tower in the middle of a battle, that’s all I remember. Didn’t hurt that much, really. And I’m sure you were an alright person in the other life. Probably royalty, since you’re so unbelievably stuck-up.”
She laughs as he flips her off. “Piss off, I’m serious. I don’t want to know about the other life. People keep saying you’ll really find your true self when you first touch your soulmate and remember, and they’re all like ‘ooh, you don’t know real happiness until you experience the glory of meeting your soulmate’ but that just all sounds like such bullshit. What’s wrong with this life? Why does everyone say it’s not enough? It’s enough for me so far.”
He sighs, gritting his teeth as he stops his rant, cheeks hot with annoyance. Yennefer simply stares at him from where she’s still lying on his bed, one eyebrow pulled up. It’s quiet for a few moments, until she speaks: “Are you done? Cause it’s nine thirty and we should leave right about now if we want to be fashionably late and not just plain late.”
He sighs, rolling his eyes, grabbing his phone from his desk. “Yeah, let’s go.”
҉ ҉ ҉
“Oh my god, Julian, you made it!” Triss’ voice is loud and clear above the noise of the people at the bar, as she nearly skips her way over to him and Yennefer, pulling him into a tight hug. He’s barely able to return it before she holds him at an arm’s length, beaming at him. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
“Hello, I’m here too,” Yennefer says next to him, and Triss laughs as she pulls her girlfriend into a short kiss.
“Oh, please, Yen, you’re so needy.” The two of them smile at each other and Jaskier clears his throat, kind of uncomfortable. He turns to the bar right next to them, ordering a tequila, only half paying attention to Triss and Yennefer’s conversation.
“So,” Yennefer asks, “who’s here?”
Triss looks around, pointing to different people as she names them. “Mostly friends from uni,” she waves at a group of people in one of the corners, “not a lot of people. Only Sabrina, Fringilla, and Anica. Istredd is still on his way, though.”
She turns her head left and right, stretching her neck a bit to see over the crowd of regular pub-goers. “I invited Geralt as well, but I haven’t seen him yet.” She shrugs. “He might not even show up, though, he said he’s not a big fan of parties.”
Jaskier takes the tequila from the barman, paying before he turns, sipping his drink as he leans his back against the bar. He sees Yennefer shoot him an uncomfortable look, something he can’t quite place, before she turns back to Triss. “Uh… who’s this Geralt-guy?” She glances back at him again for a second. “Haven’t heard of him.”
Triss blinks, visibly confused for a second, before some sort of realization dawns in her eyes. “Uh… oh, yeah! I uh… met him yesterday in the uni cafeteria. He was sitting all by himself and he looked kinda lonely so I joined him.”
Jaskier looks up, snorting a bit. “You sat with a total stranger and then invited him to your birthday party because he looked lonely?”
Triss blinks again, bright smile faltering a bit. “Uh… yeah, I guess I did. Anyways, he’s a really nice guy, I think you should really meet him, Julian. You know, give him a chance?”
He frowns. “What do you mean ‘give him a chance’?”
Yennefer clears her throat, she and her girlfriend sharing another strange look Jaskier doesn’t really understand. “At being a friend. You seriously need to make some friends, remember? Also, he doesn’t know anyone else at the party, either, so you two can be socially awkward together.”
Jaskier frowns again. “How do you know he’s socially awkward? I thought you never met him.”
She shrugs. “Well, he must be if he was sitting on his own.” Jaskier nods, not entirely convinced there isn’t something else going on as well, but he decides against asking about it. Maybe later, he thinks, as he sips his drink, looking at his phone a bit.
It’s rowdy and hot in the pub, and he can already feel a panic attack starting to build, as his eyes dart around, lungs constricting in his chest a bit. Yennefer and Triss have made their way over to their friends, leaving him on his own at the bar. He downs his tequila, placing the glass on the countertop behind him.
He’s contemplating making a bee-line to the side door and slipping away into the night – maybe getting a taxi – when someone stands next to him, ordering a beer from the barman. Jaskier looks to his right, eyes first meeting a black leather jacket, seeing long, white hair as he looks up a bit. He directs his gaze to his phone as quickly as possible, hoping the guy next to him won’t notice how much he seems to be blushing because fuck, this guy is hot.
He chances another look up, startling when he meets amber eyes. He swallows thickly, as the guy looks away again, taking the beer from the barman and tipping generously – Jaskier notices. He expects the guy to walk away, and part of him is already dreading never seeing those amber eyes again.
The guy doesn’t, though. He turns around, leaning against the bar, next to Jaskier, sipping his beer as he looks over the crowded room. Jaskier looks at his feet, fumbling with his phone a bit, unsure of what to say or to do.
He sighs in relief as he hears Triss’ voice, clear above the murmur of the crowd. “Oh my god, hi, Geralt!” She drags Yennefer behind her as they make their way over to Jaskier and the mysterious guy – apparently Geralt. She smiles brightly as she looks between the two of them. “So, I see you’ve already met Julian! This is my girlfriend Yennefer, by the way.” Yennefer gives a small smile and a weak wave from behind her soulmate. “Julian is her flat mate! You two really should get to know each other, I think you’d be great friends!”
Jaskier frowns at her, and he can see Geralt cocking his head in the corner of his eye. Triss smiles brightly, though, and looks behind her at Yennefer, who gives her girlfriend a reassuring nod. Reassuring her of what – Jaskier is not sure yet, but he narrows his eyes at his friend nonetheless.
“Oh! Look!” Triss says. “Istredd is here! And he brought some friends! Come on, Yen, we should go greet them.” She turns back to Jaskier and Geralt, giving them a final wave before disappearing in the crowd, leaving him alone with the guy. Great.
She was right though – Istredd did bring a ton of friends, and the bar feels a lot stuffier and rowdier than it did a few minutes ago. He considers leaving again, but doesn’t want to be impolite towards Geralt, so he stands there, leaning against the bar, heart racing, lungs constricting and oh fuck, he’s starting to have a panic attack.
His hands tremble as he fidgets with the hem of his pale blue hoodie, and he wishes he hadn’t worn it, even though it’s his favourite sweater. It’s too warm in the room, and he can feel sweat starting to form on his brow. He tries to keep his breathing even, but that only results in spots dancing across his vision from lack of oxygen, and his chest hiccupping with every other breath.
After a minute or so of silent suffering, he’s had enough. He throws a tight smile at Geralt, who looks at him weirdly, and mutters a “nice meeting you” before pushing through the crowd towards the side door, his shoulders bumping into several people on the way.
Once outside, he takes in deep, gulping breaths of night air, leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees. It’s blissfully quiet in the side alley, and he closes his eyes, waiting for the rush of blood in his ears to subside.
The door opens behind him, flooding him with light and noise before it’s closed again. He doesn’t look up, waiting for Yennefer to start her rant that he needs to practice conscious breathing when he feels a panic attack coming up, or Triss to ask him if he’s alright and if there’s anything she can do for him.
Instead, he hears a deep voice behind him. “Are you okay?” He stretches out again, looking behind him to see Geralt, amber eyes surprisingly concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just…” he shrugs, looking at his feet “had a bit of a panic attack.”
Geralt takes a tentative step towards him. “You wanna talk about it?”
Jaskier smiles, shaking his head slightly. He hadn’t taken Geralt for a talkative person, so the fact that the guy offered to talk about it means a lot to him, surprisingly. “No, it’s fine.” He shrugs again, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Just don’t like crowds.”
Geralt smiles a bit, and oh god, oh shit, oh fuck, he looks so hot when he smiles. “Yeah, same here. Not a big fan of them.” Jaskier looks around, the street in front of the bar deserted. He’s not sure what’s down the alley, but he might find a taxi there.
He looks back at Geralt, who’s shifting from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “It was nice meeting you, Geralt.” He starts walking down the alley, hands still in the pocket of his hoodie. He hears footsteps behind him and half turns around, frowning as he sees the guy catching up with him.
“Where are you going?” Geralt is walking next to him now, and Jaskier takes half a step to the side in the small alley, making sure their shoulders don’t brush.
He cocks his head. “Why do you want to know?”
And he might definitely be mistaken but he could swear he sees Geralt blush in the dim light of the streetlamps behind them. “Just doesn’t seem very safe, walking into an alley on your own in the middle of the night.”
Jaskier smiles. “And it’s safer to walk into an alley in the middle of the night with a stranger?”
He can see Geralt chewing on his lip, frowning deeply. “I suppose not.” He stops walking, and Jaskier does, too, after a couple of steps, turning back to Geralt. “If you want me to leave, Julian, that’s okay, I’ll leave.”
Jaskier laughs a bit, shaking his head. “Nah, don’t worry.” He keeps walking, signaling with his head for Geralt to follow him again. “Come on, let’s keep moving, it’s too cold to stand still.”
Geralt falls in step next to him and Jaskier can’t help but smile. He looks to his side. “My name’s not Julian, by the way.” Geralt frowns at him, confused, and Jaskier shrugs. “It is, officially, but my parents changed their minds a few weeks after I was born, and named me Jaskier, but didn’t change the legal documents. Yennefer just calls me Julian to spite me, and Triss does it cause she thinks it’s more polite, and I don’t have the heart to tell her no.”
Geralt laughs, shaking his head slightly. “I only met her yesterday, but that sounds exactly like her.”
Jaskier cocks his head. “I am wondering, though, Geralt, why did you come to the party? Like you said, you only met Triss yesterday.”
Geralt shrugs, hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket. “She was very insistent. And, just like you, I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”
Jaskier smiles, nodding a bit. “Fair enough.”
He side-steps around a garbage bag, before they reach the street behind the pub. It’s deserted. Well, fuck. So long, taxi. He looks around, the street stretching into the darkness on both sides. There’s a fenced off field in front of him, and he can see street lamps and cars passing by on a street on the other side of the field. He begins walking forward.
“Where are you going?” He hears Geralt call behind him.
He half turns around, pointing to the field with his thumb as he walks sideways. “Gonna hop the fence, go to that street over there and try and find a tax-“
His sentence is cut off abruptly as he trips over a small rock in the middle of the road, painfully hitting his head on the curb as he falls on his side. “Shit!”
He clutches his head as he sits up, but luckily there’s no blood on his hand, as he pulls it back. It is going to be a nasty bump, tomorrow, though. “Jaskier! You okay?” He looks up as Geralt half-jogs towards him across the street, looking both ways even though the neighborhood seems deserted.
He’s almost reached Jaskier, when he trips over his own feet, landing on his knees next to Jaskier. “Shit!”
Jaskier can’t help but laugh, clutching his stomach as he wheezes. God, just a pair of fucking idiots, lying in the middle of the street. He laughs harder when Geralt frowns at him, though the guy can’t help but laugh as well, as tears start to form in Jaskier’s eyes.
He gasps for air between fits of giggles, and leans back, lying on the asphalt, still clutching his stomach as he hiccups. He feels Geralt joining him, lying next to him in the middle of the street. “You okay, Jask?”
He finally quiets down and nods. He turns to Geralt. “You called me Jask.”
The guy shrugs, seemingly blushing again, though Jaskier tells himself it’s just a trick the streetlamps are playing on his eyes. “You don’t like it?”
Jaskier smiles, looking up at the sky. “No, no, I do like it. Just… no one’s ever called me that.”
Geralt shrugs again. They lie there in silence for a few moments, staring up at the night sky, the sound of cars in the distance.
“So, Geralt, what do you study?” He looks to his side again, admiring Geralt’s profile.
“Veterinary.”
Jaskier pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down on Geralt, who smiles softly. “Really? Didn’t take you for an animal lover, honestly.”
Geralt shrugs. “Most people don’t. I just have a soft spot for horses, I guess.”
Jaskier can’t help but smile at that. “Oh? Why horses, specifically?”
Amber eyes grow distant, as if Geralt’s suddenly transported into his own memories. “My dad’s got a horse farm, in the countryside. Taught me how to ride and take care of them at a young age.” He blinks, and suddenly he seems to be back in reality, as he looks at Jaskier. “What about you, though? What do you study?”
Jaskier leans back again, unable to look into Geralt’s eyes too long, for some reason. “English Lit.”
He hears Geralt chuckle next to him. “I wish I could say I didn’t take you for a book lover, but I’d be lying.”
Jaskier laughs a bit. “Alright, fair enough.”
He hears the quiet sound of a cap being unscrewed and looks to the side, seeing Geralt take a swig from a metal flask. “Wow, dude, you’ve come prepared.”
Geralt smiles, handing the flask to Jaskier. “What can I say? Pubs are expensive.” Jaskier laughs, feeling a slight burn in his throat as he takes a sip of whiskey – apparently Geralt’s a whiskey kind of guy. Horses and whiskey.
He laughs as he imagines Geralt, with a frown on his face, downing a bottle of Jack Daniels as he rides on a horse, wearing a cowboy outfit. He sits up as he chokes on the whiskey, coughing violently into his elbow. Geralt sits up next to him as well. “You okay?”
Jaskier gasps for air, coughing the last bit of whiskey from his airway, tears in the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, fine, just thought of something funny.” Geralt shoots him a questioning look and Jaskier shakes his head. “It’s not important.”
Geralt lays back down, taking the flask as Jaskier hands it to him, putting it back in the pocket of his leather jacket, folding his arms behind his head. “Well, watch out the next time you think about something unimportant, then. Don’t want you to laugh until you die.”
Jaskier smiles, laying back down on the pavement. “Honestly, can you think of any better way to choke?”
Geralt smiles as well. “Hmm.”
It’s quiet between them for a couple more moments, as they look at the night sky. The light pollution of the city makes it hard for him to see the stars, but he can make out some blinking lights in the dark abyss above. He points up. “Look, a plane.”
Geralt nods next to him, then points to the right of where Jaskier’s pointing. “Another one.”
Jaskier nods as well. “Very busy night for the plane business.”
And Geralt’s chuckle might be the most beautiful thing he’s heard in his whole life.
“So,” Geralt starts, and Jaskier looks at his profile again, noticing how soft the white hair looks and how much he wants to touch it, “do you do this often?” Geralt turns his head towards Jaskier, and oh god, those lips look so kissable.
He blinks. “Do what?”
Geralt smiles. “Lying in the middle of the road at one in the morning with strangers?”
Jaskier shakes his head. “No, I never do that. See, I know your name and you’ve watched me fall on my face, so we’re not really strangers anymore, are we?”
Geralt looks at the night sky again. “No, I suppose not.” He lets out a long deep breath, and Jaskier can see small clouds above his face in the cold air. “So,” he looks back at Jaskier, “what do you do in your spare time?”
Jaskier scoffs. “You mean besides watching Netflix and pretending to study?” Geralt laughs, and Jaskier can’t help but vow to make this guy laugh as many times as he possibly can, because he can’t imagine ever getting tired of the sound. He shrugs. “I don’t know, really. Lie in the middle of the road at one in the morning, and look up for heaven, I guess.”
Geralt frowns a bit. “What do you mean with looking up for heaven?”
Jaskier shrugs. “Well, people always say that when you find your soulmate you will find glory or some shit, but… I don’t know. It’s always sounded like an empty promise to me. Something that only happens if you find your soulmate, and… what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Wait?” He shakes his head, looking at the sky, watching as another plane passes overhead. “No, I don’t really like that. Life has meaning even if you don’t have a soulmate or if you haven’t found them yet. I can’t do anything with empty words for glory, so I’ll just be here, looking up for heaven, trying to find something else to strive towards.”
It’s quiet for another moment, and eventually he turns his head, looking at Geralt, amber eyes searching his face. Finally, he speaks: “You said ‘even if you don’t have a soulmate’. Everyone has one, though.”
Jaskier scoffs. “I don’t believe that. I mean, my parents were supposedly soulmates. They did the whole thing: touching each other for the first time, seeing the other life, falling in love, marrying, getting a kid. But then they ended up hating each other. So were they really soulmates, then? I don’t believe so.”
Geralt nods, turning his head towards the night sky. “I understand. I don’t know if my parents were soulmates, I never met them.”
Jaskier frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Geralt smiles and shrugs. “It’s okay. I’ve got my adoptive father. He never found his soulmate, though, but he seems at peace with it. I think you’d like him.”
Jaskier smiles as well. “I mean, he owns a horse farm, so I’m already sold.”
Geralt laughs again, and maybe Jaskier feels something flutter in the pit of his stomach, but he’s probably just hungry or something. He sees another plane pass by. “Kind of weird, isn’t it? That there’s a scientific explanation for everything in this world, except for the other life and the whole soulmate ordeal.”
Geralt nods. “Guess we really know nothing at all, when push comes to shove. We can only make the best of what we have, as long as we’re here, and maybe there’s something afterwards, who knows? Maybe another life, where soulmates will remember this one when they touch for the first time.”
Jaskier smirks, half turning his head to Geralt. “Now who’s looking up for heaven?”
Geralt scoffs, half turning towards Jaskier as well. “Not me. I’ll take my chances on the curb here with you, thank you very much.”
Jaskier notices little, dark brown flecks in Geralt’s amber eyes, and has to look away, a blush gracing his cheeks. In the distance a church bell chimes three times. Jaskier looks at his phone, suspicions confirmed: it’s three in the morning already. “Huh, it’s getting late.” He sighs, putting his phone back in the pocket of his hoodie. “I have class in the morning. I should probably get going.”
He makes no move to get up, though, and simply watches as another plane passes overhead. He hears that deep voice again, and feels a shiver run down his spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “What is it, Jask?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna go home yet, I guess.” He looks at Geralt. “I don’t know why, but it’s really easy to talk with you.”
Geralt smiles. “Same here.”
Jaskier looks up at the sky once more. “I just wanna stay here, in the middle of the road, with you, looking up for heaven together.”
Geralt chuckles, pushing himself to his feet, as Jaskier sits upright. Geralt extends his hand, smiling a bit. “Stop looking up for heaven, waiting to be buried.” Jaskier laughs, reaching out his hand to take Geralt’s.
Their skin touches, for the first time that evening, and his eyes grow wide as memories that aren’t quite his own flood him.
“Love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.” “I’m here to drink alone.”
“Respect doesn’t make history.”
“I need no one, and the last thing I want is someone needing me.” “And yet, here we are.”
“We could head to the coast, get away for a while.”
“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”
He lets go of Geralt’s hand, falling back on the pavement as he is pulled back to here and now. He looks up, wide-eyed, shocked, and he can tell Geralt just experienced the same thing. Fuck.
The other life. A Witcher, a Bard. Soulmates.
He breathes out, shuddering breath leaving his lungs in fragments, forming small clouds in the cold night air. “Oh.”
Geralt simply stares at him, then at his hand, as if he can’t believe what just happened. Eventually, he nods, lowering himself back onto the pavement, next to Jaskier. “Oh,” he says as well.
Jaskier looks at his own hand, half expecting a mark, something to indicate something’s – everything’s changed, but his skin is the same as always. Really, he’s the same as always, it’s just the memories that are new.
He looks at Geralt, who’s still staring ahead, amber eyes wide. “What happened in the other life, Geralt? How did you-“ his voice catches in his throat as he imagines Geralt dying.
The guy – the Witcher looks at him, eyes still absent. He blinks, then clears his throat. “I uh… After… our fight, on the mountain, I went looking for Ciri, for my…” a sharp intake of breath “Child Surprise. Never found her. Got attacked by ghouls, died a day or so later. You?”
A memory presents itself to Jaskier, and he shudders, burying his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie. “Got robbed a few weeks after our fight. Got stabbed, bled out.”
Geralt frowns at him. “I know we only just met, really, and that we’re not who we were in the other life but… I do want to apologize for what I said on the mountain. I never meant any of it, and travelling with you for…” he frowns, swallowing thickly “twenty-two years, was an honour and a privilege. You deserved better.”
Jaskier smiles. “I did, and thank you, Geralt. It does mean a lot to me, even if it wasn’t really… me, but… other life me? I don’t know, this is so weird.”
Geralt laughs. “It is. I’m glad we’re here, now, though.”
Jaskier leans his shoulder against Geralt’s, something that feels so natural he doesn’t need to think twice about it. “So am I. And I’m glad we’re soulmates.” He frowns. “I’m glad we got a second chance, Geralt.”
Geralt smiles back, softly, fondness in his eyes. “So am I. I really messed up the first time. I want to do better in this life, if you’ll have me.”
Jaskier leans forward, resting his forehead against Geralt’s, the clouds of their breaths intertwining in the cold night air. “I’ll have you, Geralt of Rivia, if you’ll have me.”
Geralt sighs, softly. “Yes, of course I’ll have you, Jask. No question about it.”
Their eyes meet, and Jaskier can barely suppress a shiver that runs down his spine. He’s drowning in the molten gold of Geralt’s eyes, and can’t help but smile. “May I kiss you?”
Geralt leans forward, their noses brushing, hot breath fanning over Jaskier’s skin. “I fear I might die all over again if you don’t.”
Jaskier laughs. “God, Geralt, you’re so dramatic.” He leans forward further, softly pressing his lips against Geralt’s, and he feels a hand on the back of his neck pulling him closer, the kiss deepening.
After a few moments he pulls back, drawing in shaky breaths of cold night air as their foreheads rest against each other. He can’t help but smile as he takes in every little detail of Geralt’s face. The little freckle under his right eye, the small scar on his left eyebrow, the brown freckles in his amber eyes. He hopes he gets the chance to spend the rest of his life memorizing every single detail, every single imperfection that makes Geralt perfect.
Geralt smiles at him, frowning a bit as he sees Jaskier’s searching eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Jaskier smiles, before pressing a chaste kiss to Geralt’s lips and he could never, ever tire of this. Not in this life, not in the next. “No reason, I’m just… looking up for heaven.”
#the witcher#the witcher fanfiction#geraskier#gerlion#geralt x jaskier#geralt of rivia#jaskier#triss merigold x yennefer of vengerberg#triss x yennefer#triss merigold#yennefer of vengerberg#mine#oneshot#looking up for heaven
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Get A Grip III - Epilogue
pairing : draco/fem-y/n
word count : 3.3k
warning(s) : mentions of healing/PTSD/war/sex, lots of fluff.
requested : sort of??
a/n : i just wrote this in one sitting! lol. i hope this is satisfying?? i know a lot of my stuff ends on cliffhangers so I decided not to do that for this one. give me some feedback pls! love u! hopefully this doesn’t come off as rushed??
tag list : @kaibie @acciodracoo @drawlfoy @war-sword @socontagiousimagines
Part I II
Y/N’s life as a healer was nothing short of tedious on paper. But she still loved it.
After having received specialised training for treating those impacted by war, trauma and violence post her basic healing certification, her schedule remained full, full, full, thanks to the Second Wizarding War, of course. Everyone and their mother was impacted and gravely so. Thanks to the Ministry’s work towards spreading awareness about the mental implications of war and trauma, everyone had been encouraged to seek support.
Her ward at St. Mungo’s remained constantly occupied, with the people who were permanently disabled as a result of the violence of the war taking up beds and pretty much being forced to spend the rest of their lives there. It was heartbreaking, but she had to keep her head up high and help them move on. She’d been lucky enough to be able to cool down the impacts the war had had on her in time enough to complete her schooling and be able to work towards achieving the goal she had desired ever since her seventh year at Hogwarts.
Her clinic times were full as well, with her having to both counsel and treat afflicted patients. There were some familiar faces here and there, old friends and teachers and classmates from Hogwarts. And also, the others who’d been in the cellar along with her. Sure, a hospital wasn’t an ideal destination for her to meet others, but it was the only place she seemed to have time for. The little time she got off, she’d stay home, reading up and attempting to expand her knowledge of post traumatic stress disorder based on Muggle research. (Someone had to put in the effort for the rest of the Wizarding World, right?) Romance wasn’t something she put effort into anymore. Sure, she’d had a few affairs, but.. she wasn’t actively looking for something, not when she was so busy.
But sometimes, the best things come when you least expect them to.
Y/N was sitting at her desk, writing off yet another prescription of Potion for Dreamless Sleep (something that was so greatly helpful to those suffering with mental illness, you’d never have thought!) for a previous patient. She soon finished writing notes about the frequence of the dosage they were permitted and charmed the parchment to go to the patient’s hand.
She checked her list and almost froze as she read the name of her next patient.
Malfoy, Draco.
Age : 27. (D.O.B. : 5th June, 1980.)
Blood Status : Pureblood.
Nationality : British.
Ailments :
Diagnosed with PTSD at 18. Now mostly recovered.
Suffered severe physical damage and faced Cruciatus curse at a young age, has some sensitivity to loud noises, flashing lights, etc.
Suffered dark magic curse at 16, left with minor scarring on abdomen. No other permanent effects.
Hereditary concerns : skin hypersensitivity, family history of osteoporosis.
Prescriptions :
Potion for Dreamless Sleep. (Taking regularly for 10 years.)
There was a name she hadn’t seen in years. She’d thought about him, sure. But they hadn’t stayed in contact at all. She usually learned the most about him through the Daily Prophet, where she’d recently learnt he’d been seen talking to a woman at a party. Huh. There really wasn’t much to report about anymore, it seemed. Maybe that was something to be grateful about?
Most of what was on his sheet was expected, when she’d last seen him, at Hogwarts, during their 8th year, which most of the others in their year had chosen to forego, she remembered he was still taking the potion. The only oddity was his continued prescription.. most patients would basically be ‘weaned’ off of it by their fourth or fifth year of treatment.. why had Draco been taking it for twice that long?
Either way, she kept staring at her door a bit nervously, awaiting his entry.
There was a soft knock at the door and she bit down on her lip. “Come in.” And then.. He.. walked in.
She offered him a smile and ushered him over to the chair in front of her desk.
“Hello, Draco.”
He was wearing dark robes, his height still prominent as he stepped into the room. His hair seemed to be a bit longer than she remembered it, a few pale strands covering his forehead but still styled meticulously. He seemed obviously more mature, and a bit less skinny than the boy she remembered. There were slight wrinkles on his face, under his eyes, which could again be traced back to the stresses of war, most likely.
“Good afternoon, Y/N.” He looked at her with an eyebrow raised. “I.. I recognised your name but I didn’t know whether it was really you. I should’ve brou-”
For some reason, she forced out a slight giggle. “That’s no-no problem at all, really. I was a bit surprised when I saw your name too.”
“I usually have my check ups with uh.. Healer Bole? I thought it was him again, but the name on the door confused me.”
“He’s taken some time off these past few days. That’s why they must have assigned you to me instead.”
“I suppose…”
Y/N looked straight into his eyes as an awkward silence rose into the room. His grey pupils stared right back at hers, blinking very slowly. What were you supposed to talk about with someone you’d been close to ten years prior?
Oh, right, she was supposed to be healing him. Thank god there was no need for any actual small talk between them.
“So, what brings you here today? If you need counselling or anything, I probably shouldn’t do it since we know each other personally an-”
“Oh, oh, no. I just needed to refill my prescription.”
“For Potion of Dreamless Sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Right.. Before I do that, could I ask you about it..?”
“Um, sure?”
“Well.. I wanted to know.. how come you’ve been taking it for so long? I don’t know if you know, but patients are only recommended to take it regularly for a maximum of five years.”
“I.. I need it. I can’t sleep without it. The nightmares are still awful.”
“But you’ve been.. taking it regularly ever since th-”
“I have.”
“So.. how do you know the nightmares are just as bad?”
“Well.. um.. I’ve tried sleeping without it, it didn’t work out well for me.”
“For a night?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’d like for you to try it again, for a few nights. We can send in a nurse for you, if you want.”
He looked at her with a slightly pained, irritated expression.
“Must I..? Bole would give me the prescriptions just fine.”
She hesitated for a second, then thought through what he’d just said.
“Bole was.. making a mistake, I think. Did he know you’d been taking it for that long?”
“I’ve been seeing him all along.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I’m not..”
Wow, had she just discovered her colleague had been engaging in medical malpractice? Taking the easy way out of a complicated situation? Surely, there had to be more to this, right?
“Did he never ask you to try..?”
“He did, but after I told him it didn’t go well the first time he seemed fine with just continuing to prescribe it to me.”
“I see..”
Hmm. Bole had definitely not done the right thing. It sounded terribly lazy. He was risking Draco developing an addiction just so that he wouldn’t have to put in actual effort to heal him. When dealing with a case as such, patients were often kept in the ward for observation, but obviously Bole hadn’t even brought up the possibility of the same to Draco. A complaint was going to have to be filed, it seemed.
“I hate to inform you of this, but I feel Bole might have done the wrong thing in this case.”
“Oh..?”
“Yes, I will again insist you try to forego potion for a few nights. There are major potential implications of using it for as long as you have, and we can avoid any actual damage if we can have you give it up soon.”
“But.. Y/N.. I..”
“Come on.. “ She bit at the inside of her cheek. “Like I said before, we can have a nurse come in for you and observe. And also.. It’s Healer Y/L/N to you, Mr. Malfoy.”
He smirked at this and set his hands on his lap, taking a deep breath.
“You know what, Healer Y/L/N? I might be willing to try.. but.. I don’t want a nurse to come in. I want you to.”
Her eyes widened and she reached for the quill on her desk, fiddling with its fibres. When an ex challenged you as such, were you supposed to take it? The feelings he used to stir inside of her had long faded and she was sure the both of them had moved on as much as the other had, it was a mutual break up, in the end. Was this supposed to be related to that..? Was he.. Actually interested? Or was he just playing games?
Did it even matter? Life was getting a little boring. Something a little out of the ordinary for her would be fun, for sure.
“You know what? Sure.”
***
It was seven o’clock on Friday evening when she finally finished up with all her work at St. Mungo’s and headed home, ready for the night that lay ahead of her.
She slipped out of the lime green uniform robes she wore to work and went through her wardrobe, confused. What the hell was she supposed to wear? Definitely not something inappropriate, not something overly casual, and not something too fancy either. In the end, she was going over to his place to watch him sleep, and hopefully manage to sleep herself, not to sleep with him. (She was quite tired, admittedly.)
In the end, she decided to wear a pair of pyjamas (white with purple stripes!) just out of spite. Would it be a turn off? Huh, possibly. Would it be funny? For sure. Would it be embarrassing? ..maybe, but hopefully not.
And so she did exactly that and apparated to his home. One she’d only visited years and years ago.
It was just as grand as it was then. Probably a bit more wellkept now. Obviously so, since it had been 10 years since the war had struck.. since she’d been trapped inside that very cellar. And for a second, she just stood there, processing her memories. She was not going to let the sight of this house cause her to relapse, absolutely not. It had been years. Many years since then. She’d gotten over it. She didn’t need to think about it.
Slowly but steadily, she made her way through the gate and into the estate. The hedges were gorgeous, trimmed to perfection and even with the sun down, the lamps set every few steps along made everything look even more.. perfect. Draco really did live in the lap of luxury. He always had.
She walked to the door and used the snake-shaped door knocker (Christ!) a couple times, staring up at the tall hardwood door as it suddenly opened.
And of course, it was him. Him. In a blue cotton button up shirt and silky pyjamas. Cute.
“Good evening, Healer Y/L/N. Do come in. Nice outfit.” He took a step back and held the door open.
“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.” She stepped in, looking around curiously.
It was all different. Draco had switched up the layout considerably. Gone was the dark and gloomy aesthetic that had presided over the interior of the house before. Everything was white now. Off-white, perhaps, like the color you’d call marble. The palatial chandeliers still hung from the ceilings, but that was all that remained the same. Everything else was brighter. She was glad to see it was so.
“Having a look around, are we?”
“Well, what do you expect, Draco? It’s been.. so many years.. It looks beautiful, by the way.”
“Thank you, interior design by yours truly.”
“I thought as much.. your taste has improved a bit, I’d say.” She smiled up at him.
The change was definitely helpful towards her not feeling panicked at the sight of the place. It actually looked.. inviting, to some extent.
“Glad to hear you think so, Healer.”
“Right, so, were you going to get to bed?”
“This early? I thought we were going to have dinner first.”
“I.. had some dinner at work. Quite a bit, actually.”
“That’s too bad.. I just had Golby set out the table for us. Nice food too.”
“You can have it, if you like. I’m just here for work, am I not?”
“.. Y/N..” He rolled his eyes. “No formalities between us, please.”
“It’s not a formality. It’s protocol.”
He set his hand on her shoulder and she almost winced.
“Please? For me?”
“Ugh.. fine.”
***
Sitting beside him on the table brought back memories. Pleasant ones. Of all the times they had together. The first true ‘moment’ they had between them wasn’t one she liked looking back at all that much. It was unpleasant and could still trigger an anxiety attack.
But everything after..
She could remember the joy that had filled her upon seeing Draco stumble into Shell Cottage that same day. He was wounded, badly, but he was alive. He could be healed. She’d helped Fleur as much as she could with all the healing after that point, and she took up a mattress right next to where Draco had been put to sleep, and she took care of him, personally. He was beyond grateful, as he’d told her a few days later.
And she was beyond grateful to Harry and Ron. They’d actually listened to her when it would have been so easy to just ignore her. She knew they’d hated him like anything at school, and it had truly elated her to see Draco again, actually alive.
They’d spoken to Draco and he was actually willing to help them. He told them of the plans he knew the Death Eaters were working on. It wasn’t quite a lot to go off of, since apparently, You-Know-Who had begun to distrust the Malfoy family, but it was still helpful. Draco even told her he basically saved their lives by lying for them, and they’d basically returned the favour. She wasn’t sure about the specifics, really. All she knew was that they’d somehow balanced out what they owed each other.
They’d spent a while at Shell Cottage before being moved over to a different safe house. Draco was the Death Eater’s biggest target at that point, and he had grown very, very scared. For some reason, it was decided that the two of them would go to the Tonks’ house. To Andromeda’s house. To Draco’s estranged aunt’s house. He felt even more afraid.
She’d been shunned out of their family! All because she’d eloped with a muggle born. He was afraid she wouldn’t take much of a liking to him, but.. it was completely different to what he’d anticipated. She welcomed with open arms, treated him like her own son. Everything was just fine. Or at least that’s what it seemed like.
The ‘Battle of Hogwarts’ came to fruition before them and the two of them stayed far from it, the lack of wands rendering them useless in such chaos.
Obviously, after the conflict, they were off in search of their families. Draco’s was glad to have him back alive, as was hers. They’d apparently fled from the country the instant they realised she’d been kidnapped by the Death Eaters.
But.. of course.. she was then forced to spend quite a lot of time at St. Mungo’s. PTSD. Thankfully, she was far from alone. Practically every other person even partly involved with the conflict was also undergoing some sort of treatment post war. And right after a particular therapy session, when Draco’d asked her to join him for a pint at the Leaky Cauldron, was when repressed feelings came out into the open and she kissed him.
And that was that, really.
They were inseparable for the next year. The ‘eighth years’ at Hogwarts, which consisted of several students looking to get the NEWT’s they’d missed out in the year prior, were banded together most of the time, and Draco and Y/N seemed to be joined at the hip. Well, until they weren’t anymore.
It was a mutual agreement. Neither of them were treating it very seriously and they had things to focus on. It ended on a positive note, with a little giggle between them and a hug. They were teenagers, after all.
But now, ten years later, she wasn’t sure why all those feelings were coming right back. Making her blush when he spoke to her. Goddammit. Why did Draco have to get cuter as he got older?
Soon enough, it was time for bed. They’d chatted for nearly an hour just at the dinner table and Y/N suggested he try sleeping earlier than usual, just for observation’s sake. And so he led her into his bedroom, shutting his door behind the two of them.
“Should I.. get you a mattress?”
“That would be nice.”
“Actually.. wait... I..”
She stared up at him curiously, smoothing back her hair. All of a sudden he grabbed ahold of both of her hands and pulled her forward, closer to him.
“Draco, I-”
“No, I have a confession to make…” He took a deep breath. “I might have had.. intentions.. calling you over here. Doing all of this, really.”
“You.. what?”
“I asked them to schedule my appointment with you instead. I kind of.. missed you.”
“..Oh?”
“I totally get it if you don’t want anything.. romantic with me. I’m fine just being friends. I.. I don’t think you’re in a relationship, but of course, I could be wrong.. I just.. I.. we were so good together, you know?”
“We were.”
“We just.. got each other. You were so kind to me. Why did we even.. end us..?”
“It was a mutual thing, remember?”
“I know but.. I like you, you know?” That made her cheeks flush more than she’d care to admit.
“You do?”
“I do. I.. didn’t really need the potion when we’d.. sleep together. You’d just.. I don’t know how you did it.. But I’d feel calm with you. Around you. There’s no better candidate for a healer, really. I was thinking that you’d be very, very good.. and I was right, you were. You.. did the right thing, didn’t you?”
This was so out of nowhere. She should be more shocked, shouldn’t she? But why was she feeling like she was on cloud nine?
“I like you too.” was all she could manage out.
He looked at her for a second before giving her a wide, wide grin.
“I can’t believe you pretended you didn’t know it was me! Was that just because you couldn’t be arsed to get me chocolates or something?”
“Uh.. well.. Maybe.” He laughed and she did too, playfully hitting the side of his arm. “I’ll get you some if you want them so badly. I have.. better gifts to offer you.” He winked.
“Draco!” She shook her head.
“Fine. As you wish, Healer.”
She just rolled her eyes at him and stared at him with the most sincere smile she could manage. He pulled her even closer towards him, bringing a hand up and setting it on her cheek. His eyes were suddenly on hers and she leaned up towards him, puckering her lips.
And then their lips met. It was the most familiar feeling in the world and yet the most electrifying. Everything was soft and sweet and perfect. All their wounds were healed and they knew anything that still hurt would only get better.
All was well.
#draco x reader#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco#hp#draco imagine#hp imagine#draco malfoy imagine#fluff#romance#draco x female reader
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Ridikulus Pt 4
Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 -
Ridikulus - @long-cosmos-overhead, @partoftheminfamily, @alishlieb , @pineapple-banana-pie
Adding the old tags from the old pt 19 as well - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @abiwim, @jotink78, @c-s-stars, @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf,, @menewyn
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Hogsmeade was a pleasant sight for the Dwarves to get a glimpse of what Dale could look like. Simple shops were laid out and following the students with your purse to fund their curiosity at your urging their inspection of all had intrigued them. More and more they could see just what your people were able to achieve while Gandalf himself took his own stroll at Severus’ side to hear what everything was and possible uses while he shared similar items that he had used and known his kin to use. Curiosity and the openness of your people in welcoming his only deepened the hope that your people could flourish together. Already Fili had gained steady physical contact with Hermione and had even been approved by his kin to openly take hold of her hand after having seen how open your youth seemed to be in openly stating pairings in such a manner.
At home in the nursery you sat with Ginny both changing the toddlers into a fresh set of clothes as she said, “Any word on the lycan families yet?”
Shaking your head you said, “Two of the girls in school stopped taking their potions and haven’t felt any changes so far. They never had a full change as they only started to show signs as teens after our potions came out, but their older brother stopped too, and he’s changed before and even his symptoms are gone.”
Ginny, “Full moon’s next week, their plans?”
You inhaled and said, “They’re going to try it clean. Tell me what happens after.”
Ginny, “What could this mean for Wheezes?”
Shaking your head you said, “Oh that’s no problem. I’m more concerned at whether or not being sucked into this book we might have seen the end of lycanthropy. I mean, people like Remus, attacked and innocent could be free of having to worry about all that anymore.”
Ginny leaned closer, “Remus is a werewolf?!”
Narrowing your eyes at her you said, “You are a pitiful liar!”
You giggled as she snorted after saying, “I always thought flopsy was the problem.” Falling sideways in her laughter your giggled yourself onto your back with Em leaning over to flop onto your leg while Tonks crawled towards Ginny and her laughing mess in her shift from laughter to tears. Instantly her face scrunched up and in her sniffle you sat up sliding over to lay with her as the toddlers snuggled between you and she whined out, “I just want to know they’re okay.”
As tears rolled down your cheek and the ridge of your nose pressing your forehead to hers, “We’re gonna find them. Had a dream with Crookshanks jumping on Ron’s face waking him up and pops was laughing.” Making her giggle and sniffle again wiping her cheeks as you rolled onto your back lifting Em into the air in a smiling gasp at her whimper at the souring mood. “Look at you, flying,” making her giggle as you lowered her to your chest to kiss her nose, in the ripple of her hair to yellow mimicking Teddy’s in Ginny’s lifting him above her you asked, “Heard about the Harpies might be holding tryouts after this season.”
Making her smirk to herself, “Best I give it a season to mull it over.”
“Certainly would make that match hell for the fans to see us battle it out.”
“Oh no doubt. We would have to have the boys carry us up after that onslaught. Days, it would last days,” making you giggle again.
In a pained giggle you said, “My body is sore just thinking about it. Have to stop.” Again you grinned lifting Em in her giggles.
Ginny did the same to Teddy asking, “Any plans for another training session with the love birds?”
Again you giggled, “Tonight. You know, I just might master the long sword before he moves in for a peck on the cheek. She grabbed his hand and e nearly collapsed last night.” Making Ginny snort again. “Hermi is just swooning at that, he’s so sweet.”
“Oh, and no doubt he has no clue how perfect he is by treating her so pricelessly. Certainly has my vote for joining the family.” After a huff from her she lowered Teddy to her stomach asking, “I might pick up a round on guard if Mum keeps it up. Just burst into tears looking at me yesterday.”
Sitting up you sighed making her look at you as you settled Em on your lap, “You cannot, say anything.” Instantly her brows went up and she started to sit up, “You’re not going to be her baby for long.” Her mouth dropped open and you pointed at her, “Not a word. She hasn’t told pops yet, and she’s in that, just, emotional bubble right at the start of it before everything starts swelling up.”
Softly she said, “Wow,”
“Yup, so she went from the cusp of having one grandbaby soon to crying through the Hollow to having another of her own, I mean, come on.”
With a grin she said, “You know Em is her grandbaby too.”
With a grin you said, “Though she rarely cries.”
Looking you over she asked, “Any clues on your blondes?” Avoiding the painful silence on the topic of babies, “Our ears are pointed now like theirs are.”
“Gandalf says Elves live on the way to Erebor, we’ll probably run into them on the way. Says this Lord Elrond an old friend of his would be interested to meet us.”
“So which one do you think you’re meant to date?” Rolling your eyes made her say, “Come on, Hermi’s dream guy shows up to sweep her off her feet, you gotta be curious in the least.”
In a huff you said, “Oh I don’t want to think about having to choose, I’m the worst with relationships.”
Ginny, “Technically Seb was a good choice, he just couldn’t keep his zipper locked down half a world away.” Making you giggle to yourself. “These blondes could be your Prince Charming.”
“Which one?” You asked in a giggle.
Making her chuckle and say, “Why choose?”
“Oh?” you giggled out and kissed Em’s cheek in her giggle copying yours, “Two stepdads? You want two steddads Jellybean?” Kissing her cheek again making her giggle again as Ginny kissed Teddy’s cheek.
Ginny, “World knows if anyone deserves two baby daddies slash Prince Charmings it’s you.” She giggled again in your giggle against Em’s cheek. “You know it’s true. Tons of babies, tons of laughter and smiles. There’s always-,” together you both said, “Room for love.” She nodded again, “Always. Date around.”
“I don’t think Elves date. Apparently according to Hermi, through Fili, they choose one partner, forever. Because they live, forever.”
Ginny let out a burst of air making Teddy giggle after clapping his hands on her cheeks, “Wow. That’s some dedication. Wonder how long Dwarves live.”
You shrugged, “Either way Hermi’s bound to have her snuggle buddy for years to come.”
…
“Ridikulus!” One after another each student took their turns in the large group lesson for your younger year students with laughter soon filling the halls around you as the Dwarves looked on chuckling softly at the joy these third year children were discovering. Slowly at the next bell your classroom cleared leaving the young Princes both trying to see what the creature found their biggest fears to be. Their own smirks stirring confused back steps from the creature who continuously turned to face you swirling between forms only to shift at what the Dwarves had feared.
Slowly the First Years began to trickle in and you said, “All right, time to rest.” Sharply the eyes of the warg turned away from Ori and landed on you before it’s body shifted onto its hind legs and rippled into the same empty mirror haunting you for years puzzling the men.
A single silent wave of your wand had the boggart sent back into the wardrobe that locked itself and walked back to the wall and you said, “I have my first years next, if you want to use my door up there, Hermione is in charge of tea today if you like.” You added in a glance at the golden haired Prince who seemed to give a puppy dog stare at Thorin who relented with a smirk at Bilbo’s grabbing his elbow to guide him to the stairs as the first sign of pouting coming.
Around the table in the corner of the kitchen as she waited on the biscuits she was baking to finish Hermione stood glancing between three pages of notes before scribbling down the next line in her first draft of the book she was trying to get out. Curiously at the images of the people from varying stages of your life both good and bad the Dwarves looked them all over and Thorin asked, “Are we intruding?”
Looking up she shook her head, “No, not at all King Thorin.” Setting the stack in her hands down on the table, “Just trying to work out some knots.”
Thorin, “Knots?”
She nodded and looked to Fili who lifted a cutout of the Death Eaters escape from Azkaban asking, “What is this? I cannot read this tongue of yours yet.”
“Oh, that’s a clipping of the Daily Prophet on the mass escape of the Death Eaters from Azkaban years back.”
Balin, “More criminals for you to capture?”
Shaking her head she replied, “No, all this, it’s all for a book I’m trying to get down.”
Bilbo, “A book? On what? Criminals? Ooh, murder mystery?”
In a chuckle she said with a sheepish grin, “It’s actually a book on Jaqi’s life. Surviving the Black Plague.”
Them men shifted and Kili asked, “Miss Black survived a plague?”
Fili, “Was it named after her, for surviving?”
Shaking her head she said, “No, our old Minister of Magic Fudge, he used to call her family that, the Black Plague. ‘No bad Witch or Wizard from her line’ was his excuse. Used it to shift a whole council of Wizards into locking her up and having her brutally beaten when she was only eleven for not handing Tulip over.” Open mouthed the Dwarves eyed the clipping of you in Lucius’ arms being taken back to Hogwarts. “Then each year after, protecting the school and all of us, all the same. Black Plague this, Black Plague that, till Riddle came back, then he doubled down when his followers were busted loose.”
Bofur raised the collage of images on another page, “This lot?”
Hermione, “More Death Eaters. I’ve gotten a good chunk of the book down, been journaling on it for years and Jaqi’s helped with details, approved my writing it.” Her eyes sank to the scribbled over image of Fenrir Greyback that Ori flashed her, “What about him?”
Inhaling sharply she replied, “Fenrir Greyback. Werewolf. Normally, those afflicted are innocents, attacked by other werewolves by accident or in their change. Not him, used to enjoy hunting and attacked countless people just kept avoiding getting caught, Muggles and Wizards alike.”
Thorin, “Why is his face marked out?”
Flatly Hermione replied with the men noting her reluctance to say, “He was one of Riddle’s followers, when Jaqi was sent to Azkaban, he watched her. Then when Riddle came back he broke out with the others and when Jaqi joined him to spy, Fenrir used every chance he could to get close to her.”
Dwalin asked in a protective growl, “Close how?”
Hermione huffed and said, “You cannot tell her, but, when a Death Eater gets their mark they are bound to a table and tortured for two weeks,” the image made the Dwarves’ fists clench to keep that image from their head when they thought of you, “Fenrir, took advantage of Jaqi’s being incapacitated.” Loudly Thorin growled and he wiped his hand over his mouth to cover it in a shift back and forth on his feet, “Lucius stopped him, before he did more than mess with her hair.”
Dwalin growled out with a fiery gaze, “He breathing?”
Hermione shook her head, “No, the men, in the family they lured him somewhere and, well Ronald said, they blew him up. He didn’t do much, but she was still practically a child still and he was in his fifties most likely,” Looking down in closing the notebook in her hands she stood saying, “She’s had to face a lot, being a shield or a scapegoat in a war is one thing to endure, but being, meat, no one deserves that. That’s, it’s all about change, we have to change things. Prejudice, assumptions, bias, it all burns us. Our world went up in flames from it. People need to know what they all did to her, to all of us, so they never do it again. Someone needs to say what happened, no shift on it, no fluffing it up, the pain, the ugliness, all of it.”
Averting her gaze to keep from crying she turned at the oven timer to bring out her cookies hearing the men shift after her. Lowly Thorin spoke clearly, “None of my kin would ever,”
Hermione shook her head setting the tray down to cool on the burners, “Oh no, I didn’t mean-,”
Thorin raised his hand, “I have to say this, women are rare in our kin. To have a daughter is a sacred blessing from Mahal. Even outside of our own races we would never dare to treat a woman any less, even though their women are far more frequent in number. None will dare treat any of your women cruelly or callously, we will ensure it.”
“I don’t doubt that, but thank you all the same. I didn’t mean to get so riled up, it’s just,”
Balin nodded inching closer at her arms crossing in a glance away, “Just what, lass?” Ignoring the chocolate icing filled bag that started to decorate the cooling biscuits.
Hermione sighed and looked at them again, “Jaqi, the Weasleys, Neville and Harry used to all come to my parent’s shop. My parents are dentists, and well, one day at their usual cleanings I sneezed and the furniture floated off the ground. And I was so scared, because Mum and Dad couldn’t leave me with a sitter because they were so scared if something would happen when they were gone, but then Jaqi changed her hair color making me smile and Charlie fixed the furniture. She gave me books on her world, a sort of Muggle Born care package. This was when I was nine, two years before I would get my letter from Hogwarts, and she spoke to Minerva about me. Jaqi gave me such, hope, that I wasn’t a freak, that I wasn’t alone. And my parents were so glad, that there was this whole world that would accept me and welcome me.
And breaks and summers we would stay with them and we got added to the family. Then I got my letter and we went to Diagon Alley for the first time to get my wand, and it cost galleons, so expensive, Jaqi gave me a coin purse filled with more money than I would need for all my schooling as an early birthday gift to pay. Even let me use her Mum’s cat for school. Part of why I studied so hard in school was to ensure her belief in me wasn’t wasted, her investment in my future was worth it. But she didn’t see it as a debt, or gaining some sort of payoff in the future, I was family, she included me as family from that sneeze, and I stupidly never noticed it for years until I saw her add Luna to our family. Barely spoke at all, and it clicked in my head, and it just grew more and more obvious as time went on, she has no friends for long, she has family.”
Fili, “Well she couldn’t have chosen a better one to dote on.”
Making Hermione smirk again in her move to use the spatula to ease the biscuits off the tray onto the decorative platter, “Thank you, she does seem to know who to choose, who needs her.”
The men all took hold of the trays and platters they carried into the sitting room with grins while she hovered the tea set in front of her. In their chairs they all took their seats sharing the list of those on the morning leg of the trip after the ice storm was due to have waned to get them past the usual terrible patch of land plagued with bad weather all year round.
…
The start of February led to more snow and icy weather leading to you and the triplets guiding the wagon through use of a protective bubble pulled by your father’s bike with the duo around you to keep the barrier up in the ever changing storm at your sides on their brooms. Hours on your final day off before the big pink explosion in the school you rode as long as you could last between stops for food and kept going until you had to stop for the day at the worsening storm freeing you to head to bed trying to get some sleep.
Ignoring the weekend festivities for those trapped in the sea of sharing love and adoration for their significant others you and Ginny sat up with the toddlers again watching old movies. It was only 24 hours and would soon be over, so for as long as you could between naps after a particularly grueling training session that morning in the freezing temperatures you made it to the joint dinner in the Hollow with those not distracted otherwise then went off to tuck the toddlers in for story time.
Alone in the cold, less bothersome to you by the day, you sat alone in the glass wrapped ballroom staring up at the stars with tears rolling down your cheeks while the snow dropping clouds expanded hiding all sight of the sky. Silently Regulus came up behind you wrapping you in a comforter and tugged you up onto his lap humming sweetly to you through his own worried tears in your turn to cry in his arms as your hair had fully turned pitch black.
…
Alone with trembling hands as you felt your strength still draining drastically at keeping the world trapped in those orbs while you watched Draco taking your place with Luna in raising the barriers alongside Neville. Seated by the Bur brothers you watched them setting up the pop up grill Gloin and Oin readied the fish the boys had caught for dinner in a nearby stream. Scouting ahead to see how far you had to go Gandalf had left you all muttering about the ruins off in the distance revealed in a break in the dark grey clouds and growing snow storm.
Quietly listening to the men chatting around you, you finished your dinner and handed over your dishes to Kili in his assigned chore for the night. A pair of bodies strolling through the snow had you on your feet however joining Draco who drew his wand calling for you, “Jaqi, trolls.”
A third one appeared in your path to his side and you asked Thorin, “How do you normally handle your trolls?”
Lowly Thorin replied, “Normally we attack them, but when possible wait till sunrise, they turn to stone.”
“Hmm. Sunrise.” Their eyes all followed your hand drawing your wand you pointed at the trio moving closer to you and clearly stated, “Lumos Solem” sending out a clear beam of sunlight through the barrier right at the trio freezing into stone as they shielded their faces.
With parted lips they all approached your sides bubbling into impressed cheers between pats on your back as Bilbo stepped closer to examine the trio, soon joined by Balin who mumbled, “Must have a hideaway somewhere. Even with this storm they’d need shelter.” He turned to meet Thorin’s eyes in a silent question.
One that was answered as Thorin asked, “Up for some scouting?”
His smirk soon mirrored on your face, with your nod the group joined you on the first timid armed steps outside of the barrier with each of the young Wizards between them ready to cast the same spell you had if needed. Not long after with your free hand covering your nose and mouth you entered a cave the Dwarves had discovered. Blindly they trekked inside until your wordless flick brought an orb of light to linger on the tip of your wand filling the cave with glowing birds flying around casting off light easing the path.
Behind you disgusted grunts from the twins brought their hands to dig in their pockets until a set of marble sized pink mist filled balls were drawn and thrown at the walls around them exploding into a thin cloud of mist soon filling the cave with a slightly nostril stinging sent of grapefruit allowing your hand to lower finally. With raised brows the Dwarves all thanked them before examining the gold and treasure Neville cast a cleansing spell sending out glowing nifflers made of light over to wash through it breaking any hidden hexes or curses. And he, Luna and the twins helped guide it all into a small enchanted chest they passed to Gloin.
Curiously you eyed everything while Thorin gave you a once over at your nearly weaponless state causing him to claim the first blade he grabbed for himself before passing you and the twins the other three after shouldering a second one for Gandalf at its curious markers. On the path out again you eyed Nori helping Bilbo secure the dagger he’d found for him tucked into the dirt while Hermione stood at Fili’s side with a timid smile as he did the same, respectfully strapping it to her hip then claiming her side and eventually her hand once again on the trip back to your barrier.
Back to the camp in a gust of wind the clouds parted as your eyes scanned over the snow in a half circle making the men brandish their weapons. In the gust of wind your hair shifted sweeping over your face, and with a pat on Fili’s shoulder Hermione rose higher on her toes in her place between him and Kili where they had nudged her for safety. “It’s her father, their bond, she’s caught something on his location. Between your shoulder blades under your loose flannel and t shirt your tattoo of the Canis Major Constellation circled by your father’s name was trotting and in the lifting of your eyes Draco came closer to your side.
“Draco-,”
Lowly whispering, “I feel it too.”
All through your family line the magnetic pull of your kin had been recorded all the way to the first, claiming his children and he were bound by stardust, hence the naming after stars, each child after bringing a tattoo for their namesakes that would help guide you to them. However the rare ones with different names were granted tattoos marking the planets they were born under with their names forming the borders of the round colorful orbs, yours being a small copy of Pluto’s gorgeous multicolored surface trapped within your name now spinning slowly on your Father’s back waking him from his slumber to gather the others.
Quietly you turned until you found the constellation glittering brighter in the sky between a batch of clouds as a whisper of West echoed in your ears from the presumed voice of your long since passed ancestors. Softly you whispered, “West.”
Moving closer to you Thorin’s hand rose shifting your hair after seeing the glittering stars in the sky to find the stars on your mark glittering and in moving around you he asked, “The stars speak to you, truly.” After a pause he asked, “Which way?”
“West.”
“Convenient.” You nodded, “Gandalf wished for us to pause in Rivendell, perhaps while we rest you might scout around, see if you can muster up a more specific location.”
“Thank you. Won’t take long.”
Thorin nodded, “To bed then, we eat at first light.” In naming those on watch he watched you shift on your feet then he said, “Bed, now. I am abusing my rank over yours. Rest up.” His playful gaze made you chuckle to yourself and nod, “We will see you at breakfast, Miss Black.” Over to the camp you led the way into the carriage and made your way up to bed feeling you were ready to drop at any second. Just barely in time you knelt on the end of it and plopped across it rather ungracefully making Regulus sigh in the doorway after following you up from his stop in the kitchen to help remove your shoes, empty your pockets and tuck you in.
After changing himself he came back to lay behind you mumbling, “Find you in the morning guys. Just one more night.” Draping his arm across your middle.
…
With sunrise however once your breakfast was cleared you led the path, Thestrals, Pegasus and Buckbeak back through the lone doorway to the shielded campground where you heard the familiar distant humming of Gandalf on his return to you. As you dropped the shield, he came into full view between wafting waves of gently falling snow with a growing smile until he strolled past the trio of snow coated statues before noticing your new weapons. Once the tale of your night was shared Gandalf strapped the blade Thorin had held for him around his waist and joined Bilbo on Buckbeak once again after stating, “Not far now, should just be over that ridge there.”
You nodded climbing onto your bike between the twins to lead the way, their lift off triggering the same ripple of trots after your bike before your lift of and wings extended sending the winged creatures into the air behind you. Gripping the handles tighter you adjusted the gear drawing the roar of your bike lower. Percy in the basket beside you peered over all he could see to look over the areas around you for any hidden signals or barriers while you kept watch for any possible attacks in the lead. Behind you the Thestrals fanned out around Buckbeak giving them all plenty of flying room in the vast sky above the seemingly endless green forest the snow oddly ghosted over.
Below you just as the ridge was cleared Percy leaned forward after Neville shouted, “Down there, is that a path?”
Percy nodded, “Clear shielding spell, but it stretches quite a ways.” His eyes followed the path you flew over as figures darted underneath at the roar overhead until Percy pointed as well, “There, looks like a clearing.”
You nodded and began to lower causing the others behind you to do the same, slipping easily through the barrier to ride through the oddly warm snow free dirt path the creatures trotted curiously behind you eyeing the path under the massive trees. More and more darting figures grew before you in the distance. Forming clear armed lines that eyed you curiously as you stopped and climbed off your bike when it silenced and Percy hopped out of the sidecar as you shrunk your bike then placed it back in your bag.
Behind you Gandalf dismounted and joined your side with a kind smile speaking in clear Elvish to the soldiers, “We apologize for the surprise but we are here to speak with Lord Elrond, peacefully.”
A set of nods were traded before the horse bound forces turned leading your group into the city as the twins landed and walked alongside you and Percy, shrinking and pocketing their brooms. Each step stirring the tingle in your tattoo to grow, the trotting mark drawing the twin’s attention in the bare patch of skin from your tank top drawing smirks on their faces before looking forward again as you untied your flannel shirt from your waist and pulled it on leaving it open then rolling up your sleeves.
.
Finally the city grew before you with your path stopping in a courtyard where a pair of stern looking dark haired Elves eyed your group on their entrance along with the creatures or lack there of at the few floating teens the innocent Elves witnessed. The first glimpse of the duo parted your lips for a moment recognizing them and hints of the style of the city you had dreamed of for so long.
Behind you feet hit the ground at the ripple of dismounting teens and Dwarves, all eyeing the approaching pair greeting Gandalf fondly between glances at the Thestrals in your midst now walking curiously through the courtyard exploring it. All stealing a glimpse of the color changing eyes as you looked between them. All trying to focus on your right eye as your left eye sat in the middle of a heartbreakingly large set of swirling white scars over the left side of your otherwise flawless face revealed as you brushed your hair into a long ponytail until your bangs swung back to cover it again.
Lowering your gaze a grouping of pounding steps were heard until a familiar face popped up between a set of trees at the top of the steps behind Elrond with a growing grin as it called out, “Pumpkin!” Widely a stunning smile split across your face parting the lips of an approaching blonde Elf with his long curls pulled back and secured wrapped in long ribbon. After a set of pops you stepped forward curling into your Father’s arms as Arthur apparated at his side reaching out his arms to his sons all rushing for him, while Draco opened the doorway he called for to send word to the soon to be racing forms of Ginny and Molly Weasley. Timidly Ron landed beside Remus who gave a weak chuckle at being pulled into your tight hug.
In a glance over your group Ron’s eyes landed on Hermione who was released by Fili to step forward with a shocked gasp at the orange cat in his arms. In a teary gaze she met his as he stated, “He still hates me. But I couldn’t just leave him.”
Her smile grew as she accepted him and gave him an awkward side hug, “Thank you, Ronald.”
He nodded his head and stole a glance at her on her path back to Fili’s side as she stated, “This is Crookshanks.” Fili’s smile grew as he gave him a gentle pet as Ron joined his family hug feeling the eyes of a searching Elleth landing on him as she stood eying his family from the balconies above.
More racing steps were heard and finally a crashing tearful hug was landed as Molly curled into her husband’s chest with Ginny soon after as Dobby led Teddy out in teetering steps to his Father who gained an excited squeal from him dropping him to his knees to curl around him tightly. With closed eyes your forehead met with your Father’s in his continued hug as he smiled stating, “I knew you’d find us.”
With a chuckle you glanced at Luna, Neville and Draco who all approached to hug Sirius as well. Shifting on your feet looking at Remus’ scanning glance over your group you asked, “Tonks wasn’t with you?”
Remus shook his head and watched your brows furrowed as you mumbled, “But, I’ve seen her here.”
Over Draco’s head your father said, “No doubt she’ll turn up then.”
A clearing of a throat succeeded in turning your attention to Elrond again as Gandalf’s explanation had ended leaving a stunned look on the Elf Lord’s face before he asked, “How fortunate to have you among us finally. We have heard a great deal of you all and your people for so long. If you might join me in my study I might have a meal prepared.”
Sharply a turn of your head at your enchanted doorway you spotted Albus’ arrival asking, “Miss Black, I wonder if you might assist in the wrangling of Pixies. Terwilliger’s wand was taken and now my knowledge on their capture has been tapped.”
Weakly you giggled saying, “We need to tether that boy’s wand to his arm.” In a glance to Lord Elrond you said, “Back in two shakes.”
With a grin Sirius turned to say, “You should come with us. See Hogwarts for yourselves.” Following after you once the Thestrals had passed through the doorway behind Buckbeak.
The curious enchanted doorway had the Elves curiously following after your group inspecting the dull wallpaper lining the tall half of the wood paneled hall ending at another door opened to the shrieks and shouts of children fleeing the obnoxious Pixies.
A single dip of your hand in your pocket into the mokeskin pouch there you drew out an enchanted bundle of what looked to be red berries that gave a halting jingle for the creatures who watched you twist the bundle making it split for you to toss down the hall splitting up to multiply and bounce around jingling as they did. All at once the creatures swarmed for what seemed to be their favorite treat and were bound in red twine they could not escape easing the task of getting them back into their cage brought over by a seventh year who summoned it from upstairs.
All around you the hoards of children giggled and grinned up at you in their returning to their chosen tasks unaware of the sinking hearts of the Elves trying to gauge how many were in your care.
Pt 5
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valimtimes leftovers from patreon. Sabrina Gross wanted goblin girlfriends last month so have this sketch of two auntie bounty hunters on vacation that I'm probably never going to finish (I got stuck on colors).
their current fake names are Margo and Rita and they are the former hench-women of an evil wizard. they flipped on their boss after years of watching their colleagues bite it from honestly avoidable workplace hazards, plans that heavily favored confusingly cruel flamboyancy instead of doing anything worthwhile, and being called INSOLENT BUFFOONS or some variation of such Every. Single. Day. usually during a very awkward failure induced temper tantrum. to be honest, they didn't really mind punching self righteous human knights or concocting magical science abominations undisturbed respectively, but as time went on it became clear that they probably weren't gonna live to retire. so they made some deals, told their surviving coworkers to take the day off and left The Castle of Black Thorn-Spire' s doors unlocked when they left for the night.
they are now middle aged and pretty much on a constant string of vacations. they keep up with their former coworkers, and considering that they are the oldest surviving members of their hench-family, everyone kind of treats them like aunties. they have enough money from a little pre-betrayal pilfering and post betrayal pay offs to live in frugal comfort for the rest of their lives while helping out their friends here and there, but they also give legal advice on hench person unionization and take on bounty hunting gigs every so often because they get bored.
other bounty hunters aren't really keen on them because a lot of people in the know still see them as at least villain adjacent (and there are things they do that def merit these rumors), but they don't really care about what some lawful good asshole has to say. they're livin' it up.
Fun Facts:
Margo's wardrobe is made up of so much knock-off Juicy Couture and kickboxing gear.
Rita's wardrobe is made up of altered lab coats, kid friendly shirts about science, and booty shorts.
they both love crocs and 'trashy' comfy clothes in general. not a lot of aesthetic freedom at the old job. not a lot of room for acid washed jorts. they're takin' it back.
they have what I can only describe as slightly cartoonish mannerisms. Like, you can tell they were evil hench women at some point and you can tell exactly how they henched just by observing them at a dinner party. They never talk about it unless prompted but even their voices give it away. It's if Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle and a much more chill Mandark from Dexter's Lab were lesbian aunties.
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681.
do you like to watch sports?
>> The only sport I enjoy watching is figure skating.
have you seen the movie Space Jam?
>> When I was little, if so. I have a vague recollection of it that may be a memory of watching it, but it also may just be pop culture osmosis.
have you ever taped your fingers together?
>> I don’t think so.
do you wet your toothbrush before putting on toothpaste?
>> No, I wet it after.
do you like rice?
>> Sure, but particularly coconut rice.
where is your perfect partner?
>> ---
does it snow where you live?
>> Yes.
do you live near any beaches?
>> I live about an hour away from Lake Michigan, so there are lake beaches.
have you ever made a clay pot on a pottery wheel?
>> No.
what is your favourite flavour of chips?
>> Salt and vinegar, salt and pepper, any good spicy flavour.
do you like iguanas?
>> I don’t have an opinion on iguanas.
are you afraid of spiders?
>> Not at all, they are all my children and I love them.
can you spell MISSISSIPPI very fast?
>> Yeah, because I say “double-S”/”double-P” and that makes it flow real fast.
did you ever do those hand clapping game things with your friends?
>> I’ve done it with same-age-range family members, and that’s as far as my recollection goes.
can you run into a jump rope and continue jumping?
>> No, I was never able to do that for some reason. Poor depth perception or something. Or maybe just the fear of being hit by the rope(s).
do you take lots of pictures of yourself?
>> No, not anymore. Most of the current photos I have of myself are from the wedding/honeymoon, because I dressed up a lot that week.
do you wear headphones or just blast music with your speakers?
>> When I’m home alone I use speakers for music, mostly so I can hear if the doorbell rings or the cat does something stupid, stuff like that. But generally I prefer headphones.
have you owned any pens with feathers on the ends?
>> I don’t think so.
could you make a good dinner without using a recipe?
>> Probably.
do you have an electric pencil sharpener?
>> No, I don’t even use those kinds of pencils.
liquid or tape whiteout?
>> Tape whiteout is really convenient, but I haven’t used whiteout since I left school.
where have you always wanted to go?
>> I mean, a lot of places, I guess.
what question do you most want to have answered?
>> ---
do you mimic people in voices that sound nothing like them?
>> No, but we have this funny, dopey voice for narrating what we imagine is going on in the cat’s head.
what is the title of the last book you read / current book you're reading?
>> The last book I finished was Big Magic. The book I am currently reading is The Institute.
do you get butter / margarine on your popcorn at the movies?
>> I don’t get popcorn.
are your nails painted?
>> No. Maybe I’ll do that. Been feeling really down on this mortal form recently so maybe I need to do something fun to it to even it out.
have you ever painted a room in your house?
>> We live in an apartment complex, so, no.
what colour is your printer?
>> ---
whose handwriting is the nicest?
>> No shade, but most of the people I know have pretty bad handwriting, lol.
what was the first thing you ate today?
>> Veggie burger and chips.
blue or black ink pens?
>> Black.
spending the day shopping or lying on the beach?
>> I wouldn’t want to spend an entire day doing either.
duct tape or 'duck' tape?
>> I mean, it’s duct tape. For taping ducts. I think there’s a brand of it that riffs on the “duck” thing, though, which is cute.
do you like spicy food?
>> I sure do.
when was the last time you wore flip flops?
>> I only wear them as shower shoes, so, the last time I showered.
what time will it be 20 minutes from now?
>> 10.10a EST.
do you ever miss being a little kid?
>> I sure the fuck do not.
do you wear perfume / cologne?
>> I wear a roll-on oil.
do you have any trinkets on your keyring?
>> Yeah, I have an X-Files one that’s Mulder and Scully hanging from a UFO (it’s really cute), and a guitar plug that used to say “Trans-Siberian Orchestra” before all the text rubbed off. I should take it off, it’s kind of pointless without the branding.
is biting your nails one of your habits?
>> Nope, never developed that one.
are you a frequent user of YouTube?
>> Not frequent, no, but I do watch it. Sometimes I get into specific kinds of videos, like right now it’s FFXIV and Elder Scrolls videos.
do you ever go out walking / jogging / running for fun?
>> No. I will probably have to learn to like it, though, because it’s the one exercise I can regularly do, and I should probably temper my sedentary hermit nature with some form of activity. Whether I will be successful or not is always the question (and the answer is often “no”, but I guess I should at least keep trying).
do you ever wish you had an amazing sibling like they do in the movies?
>> No. I don’t recall ever really wanting a sibling.
do you like to wear skinny jeans? do they look good on the opposite sex?
>> I don’t really enjoy wearing them, per se, but it’s kind of a “path of least resistance” kind of thing -- finding clothes I can wear at all is difficult enough and skinny jeans are so ubiquitous that it’s easier to stick with those. My actual ideal wardrobe is just, you know, wizard robes and sweatpants.
are you supposed to be doing something more productive right now?
>> Nah.
have you ever used your gluestick to trace a nice circle?
>> I mean, maybe? I don’t know.
do you bring out your cell phone / music device when you're alone?
>> I mean... yeah? Or whatever other device I have with me.
do you have a calendar up? what's its theme?
>> No.
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Books “Read” in 2019
I am going to rank these by how much i enjoyed them vs. any actual literary quality. often well written books aren’t always the most entertaining books.
Note: i listen to many of these books at work, which is why i am able to go through so many of them in a year.
List from 2017
List from 2018
------- My Favs of the Year ----
Novels from The First Law:
Best Served Cold (#1), The Heroes(#3), Red Country(#4), Sharp Ends(#5).
A Little Hatred (#2) (Age of Madness, sequel to The First Law)
I read “The First Law Trilogy” about a year or two ago and finally got around to reading the rest of the books, just in time for a new series taking place in the same world to start up (Age of Madness) and now i am waiting like everybody else for the next two books to come out in 2020 and 2021. A Little Hatred shouldn’t be read as a stand alone, a lot of what goes on is dependent mainly on knowledge from the first trilogy and in The Heroes, then bits and pieces from Best Served Cold and Red Country. So much of your enjoyment of each book is based on what you’ve learned in other ones (character development or seemingly useless information being not so useless later).
Age of Legend (Book 4, Legend of the First Empire)
This is more-or-less an “aftermath” book where the main characters are still reeling about what happened in the previous book and are trying to make plans for what they are going to do next. I still like the characters and the world/setting it takes place in.
House of Assassins (Saga of the Forgotten Warrior, Book 2)
I’ve been waiting for the next book in this series to come out the second i finished the first book in the series. It is one of those Science fiction in the disguise of Fantasy settings and I am on the edge of my seat waiting to see how that plot/revelation comes out (I am certain that the location the story takes place is Earth, more specifically around Asia/India, but in a post-invasion apocalypse setting where nobody remembers anything prior to the invasion). I also really like how much of a badass Ashok is... i have a thing for emotionally stunted badass characters, especially when their flaws are held up to a mirror and have real consequences.
R. R. Haywood’s Worldship Humility & Extinct (Extracted, Book 3)
I love the way Haywood writes characters and dialog. I was at-first iffy about WSH, but was won over after i warmed up to the new characters.
Shades of Magic Trilogy (A Darker Shade of Magic, A Gathering of Shadows, A Conjuring of Shadows)
Solid multi-verse and magic system world. Well-written characters, some minor nitpicks on plot points, but can be easily ignored. LGBTQ rep, the gays don’t stay buried.
“Don’t you have enough [knives]?”
“You can never have too many.” [me, every time: LOL]
One of the few times when a character deserves a redemption arc, doesn’t really get one, dies, and i am perfectly fine with it because it is done well.
Assassin’s Fate (Fitz and the Fool, Book 3)
I read this one in book-book form, but i already knew most of the emotionally painful parts of the book by spoiling it to myself when it first came out a couple years ago. The main appeal is the inner monologues of the two main characters, even if like 50% of this trilogy is basically spending weeks/months trying to go from Point A to Point B, when many other books would have glossed over the details of travel.. but you can really feel the stress as they dwell in their thoughts and struggles.
Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles & Circe
Re-Imagining of the Iliad and The Odyssey. Focusing not on the characters of Achilles or Odysseus, but on Petroclus (Achilles’ lover) and Circe the sea nymph witch that Odysseus had an affair and child with.
The Spear of the Stars (Cycle of Galand, Book 5)
Still love Dante and Bleys... This is where they really get into the meat of world building and solving the mysteries of the Arawn Cycle (the book/bible) and peel back the layers of their reality.
Dust (Silo Book 3)
A great ending to a good series, it answers whether or not humanity can or has survived what had caused them to be locked away in the silos.
Blackthorn and Grim (Dreamer’s Pool, Tower of Thorns, Den of Wolves)
I like the premise of the books, the two main characters first seeking out revenge, but end up wanting to become better people due to magic shenanigans.... One part Fantasy, One Part Mystery, One Part Lovestory.
The Dispatcher (Audible Free Book)
I want a whole series based off this novella. It is John Scalzi so he can write a good story. I had previously read Android’s Dream by him, which it didn’t make it into my top-10 that year, but was still decent, even if the subject matter was a bit gross... The Dispatcher world is a Sci-Fi Noir, not quite Cyberpunk, where people don’t die by anything other than natural causes. The Dispatcher’s job is to kill people before something goes does wrong and the person “resets” to when they where safe and sound.
---- this is the “Above Average” Zone ----
All the Pretty Horses & Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West
The master of bleak and depressing fiction. if regular Dark Fiction isn’t enough for you.... there is Cormac McCarthy books. Get use to the “purple prose” that fills up pages with no dialog.
The Golem and the Jinni
Supernatural world of the far past dealing with Edwardian New York and Immigration. It not only is a “fish out of water” story of the two main characters trying to fit in with society but they are among communities that are also new to America and trying to find their own place in the world. There are love subplots but most of those kind of fizzle out.
The Axe and the Throne: Bounds of Redemption Vol. 1.
“Discount First Law” book... it is lacking the dark humor that made TFL series far more entertaining. This was also the book that was prefaced by warning people about how grim and dark the setting was... Hahahaha. I still found it entertaining none the less, and hope the rest would show up on audible soon.
Black Snow, White Crow (Audible Free Book)
Another one of those short stories that should have a larger saga to its name. Fantasy Industrial Punk. It has the whole equality role reversal thing going on, it isn’t done quite as well as Left Hand of Darkness (but that book leaned onto the boring side of things).
Stephen King’s IT, Pet Semetary, and Carrie
It’s Stephen King. Classic King. Not much else to say.
Watership Down
Depressing Rabbit Book. Though I did like all the stories and mythology the rabbits had.
Bloody Acquisitions (Fred the Vampire Accountant, Book 3)
A series that is always fun to listen to. I wish the audio books were cheaper because they are rather short.
Lethal White (Cormoran Strike, Book 4)
shuddup, i don’t care if it is Rowling... i have a low-key crush on Cormoran.... he just hits that big-burly tragic-backstory man-shaped soft-spot of mine. These stories are also her “for adults” writings so... expect more racism and garbage values.
The Eye of the World (Book 1, Wheel of Time)
Classic set up to a long running series, though i am reluctant to go further as the middling books in this series are said to drag out the story too much.... It’s not as self-centered as Wizard’s First Rule and the characters are more relatable and stick to their fantasy tropes. This is the “mold” that other modern fantasy try to subvert by going “darker and edgier.”
The Exorcist
If you like the movie, read the book. There is a lot of back story that the movie wasn’t able to adapt.
---- This is the “AVERAGE, but Still Good” Zone ---
The Iliad and The Odyssey
Classics. I am still on the hunt for an unabridged version of Jason and the Argonauts story. I also have Virgil’s Aeneid in my wishlist to get too soon.
Phillipa Gregory’s Plantagonate Novels (The Lady of the Rivers, The Red Queen, White Queen, The Kingmaker’s Daughter)
Sometimes it is like reading the same book 5x in a row. other times you end up not liking the previous protagonist in a book you just finished reading because of how the current protagonist sees them from their POV.
Return of the King (Lord of the Rings, Book 3)
Read the other books last year and didn’t get around to this one for a few months.
Something Wicked This Way Comes
Fuck... I’m a janitor... why can’t i afford a house? If you liked Stephen King’s “IT” go back and read this book.
Alien Franchise Dramatizations: Alien: Sea of Sorrows, Alien: The Cold Forge (Audible Free Book) Alien III (Audible Free Book)
I don’t mind that they all are done with a full cast. Though often I end up wanting to find the actual book and listen to them with just one narrator and descriptions.
The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe (Narnia, Book 1)
I would like to get the rest of the books in this series, but for books that are only 5-7 hours long they want 20$ a book for them. It needs to go into an omnibus.
Stephen Fry’s Victorian Secrets (Audible Free Book)
It’s Stephen Fry... he’s funny and a good narrator.
Wizard’s First Rule (Book 1, Sword of Truth)
I don’t like Richard. He started off alright, but even before he got tortured 2/3rds into the book, i was starting to dislike his personality. Other than that, the side characters and world are solid, but it was like taking an R-rated movie and cutting it down for TV. There is somethings that are vaguely described when i am use to harder fiction like ASoIaF, The First Law, Dresden, and McCarthy books actually describing those things.
Halloween (2018, movie novel)
Like I said when i first read the book, it would’ve benefited by a second re-write before being published. But, i like the movie and so I liked the book.
Don Quixote
Another classic read. I did find it hilarious that the Author spent a good chunk of the second book complaining about Fanfiction of his own book... in the 1600′s.
The Princess Diarist
I listened this book instead of going to see TROS. worth it.
Smoke Gets in Your eyes: And other Lessons from the Crematorium
Non-Fiction, If you want to know the ins and outs of the funeral business and get told in an informative yet non-clinical way with lots of tidbits and history facts tossed in as well as a semi-autobiographical account of the Author’s life.
--- These Books are “Alright” ---
Frank L. Baum’s Wizard of Oz books
I ligit got into an argument with a 70yo man in a comic book shop about how Canon the other Oz books were post Baum’s death. He was looking for Oz comic books and I brought up reading the first 14 books, and he’s like “There’s over 100 of them” and i was all “but all those are written by somebody else.” and he got all “they are still canon...”
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
If you want to know about the In//cel ideology in a classic literary form, this fits the bill. So much man pain.
A Christmas Carol (Tim Curry) (Audible Free Book)
Tim Curry, guys.....
The Poetic Edda (Norse God Mythology)
I listened this book twice. I bought two Edda books thinking I’d get some extra content, but no... same book just different production teams and readers. Returned the one with the worst translation.
Treasure Island (Audible Free Book, dramatization)
I need to read the actual book sometime, but i did like the cast and thought they did a good job.
Wally Roux, Quantum Mechanic (Audible Free Book)
A YA coming of age story about diversity and acceptance... with wacky science fiction.
Carmilla (Audible Free Book, dramatization)
The vampire before Dracula. Victorian Lesbian love story.
Even Tree Nymphs get the Blues (Audible Free Book)
A novella from one of those “love on the Bayou” romance series with supernatural creatures. Could practically take place in the same world of either True Blood, Dresden, or Fred the Vampire Accountant.
Mystwick School of Musicraft (Audible Free Book)
Harry Potter lite. For 10yo girls.
A Grown-up’s Guide to Dinosaurs (Audible Free Book)
I like dinosaurs.
Rivals! Frenemies Who Changed the World (Audible Free Book, Dramatization)
Interesting way on telling us about the Fossil Wars and Puma vs. Adidas.
True-Crime from Audible: Body of Proof (Audible Free Book), Midnight Son (Audible Free Book), The Demon Next Door (Audible Free Book), Killer By Nature (Audible Free Book)
Why is True-Crime or YA fiction the only halfway-decent things Audible is giving us? But yeah, these are basically the type of reporting that the two journalists from Halloween were trying to do. Where they go around and gather up information about semi-famous cases and present it in a Podcast-like format.
---- Meh... ---
Camp Red Moon (Audible Free Book)
Would’ve been better if they were actually written by R. L. Stein.
More Bedtime Stories for Cynics (Audible Free Book)
No... half of these aren’t written very well.
The Darkwater Bride (Audible Free Book, Dramatization)
The setting is nice, but it is far too .... Soap Opera Dramatic.
Junk (Audible Free Book)
A cross between Alien Invasion and Zombie outbreak, read by John Waters and written as if it was a bad version of a Philip K. Dick Novel.
Rip Off!! (Audible Free Book)
Most of them are duds and boring. I don’t even remember half of them without having to look them up. The two that stood out the most for me where the “Other Darren/Bewitched” and the “Dark and Stormy Night” stories, the rest were rather garbled.
--- Garbage... ---
Dodge and Twist (Audible Free Book, Dramatization)
No, you are not being edgy or kool.
Unread:
Siege Tactics (Spells, Swords, & Stealth. Book 4)
Triumphant (Genesis Fleet, Book 3)
Earthsea (Tehanu and Tales from Earthsea, i am going to re-listen to the first three before i get to these)
Into the Wilds (Warriors, Book 1)
Pout Neuf (Audible Free Book)
House of Teeth (Audible Free Book)
Viva Durant and the Secret of the Silver Buttons (Audible Free Book)
The Other Boleyn Girl (Phillipa Gregory)
#the first law#legend of the first empire#saga of the forgotten warrior#realm of the elderlings#a darker shade of magic#the song of achilles#john scalzi#r. r. haywood#Cycle of Galand#blackthorn and grim#myu reads#long post
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Variables - fanfic ( Underswap Papyrus x Reader ) (Chapter One)
: !!: Author's notes ◌ °: !!:
﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎
Hello darlings! ‧ ₊ ° “
If you don't want read the note, please, roll this part.
As I mentioned in the prologue, it's my first time doing an underswap fic, so I'd like your opinion. ˚ ˚ *
I'm doing it the way I think it would be Au if it was complete as well as the fangame, but that doesn't mean I'm 100% following its original forms. ‧ ₊ ° “
That said, I will do my best to stay faithful and make writing interesting and fun. *
The cover image was edited by me, I know it's not the best, but I tried. ° ⸼ ⊹
If I get the link or names of those who created the images I will make available. °
Remembering that I have profiles in tree communities of Undertale in pt br, if you see an Vivinare, something ( skeleton, boned or skelly) with the same post, it's me, don't be scared. ˚ ˚ *
· · ✦ · · · · · · · 1 Notices · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · ·
Fic will follow many of its original creator's ideas with some interpretations and theories of mine. Here's the link about the creator: Popcorn (His profile no longer exists, he made another and left Au, she belongs to fandom, basically)
CENSOR:
Not for fragile hearts.
CONTAINS
(in general): violence, bullying, subliminal jokes, slight depression.
GENRE:
Adventure, Drama, Comedy, Thriller & Romance
˚ ˚ * In this fanfic ⁺ ˚. *
1 Chara is a boy;
2 Has original characters.
˚ ˚ * This chapter presents ⁺ ˚. *
1 slight violence;
2 Citation to depression;
3 drama.
Attention:
Big chapter ahead.
﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎ ﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍
A year has passed…
No news ... No trail ... not even false leads. (That fill us with hope just to take care of us.)
We.
I haven't used those words in so many days when referring to my life.
Just one in the back, my brother was kidnapped. Chara was taken from me and taken where no one can find him.
Your friends' parents shout accusations, as if I could hurt a single hair on your head:
"- It was certainly the oldest. After all, it's not the first death of the family. -"
Heh. People can be cruel.
We were four.
He, the only boy and middle brother, only ten years old.
The other oldest, Bianca, and the youngest, Daisy, were murdered by someone we trusted.
Bianca's boyfriend, Elric, was on the Wizards Order. And to be accepted, the fire had to be fed with a precious commodity.
He spent years fooling us into doing this… so that I could do that to him…
That was two years ago.
I tried to overcome my sadness, Elric was already under arrest, there was a Chara to be comforted.
Gradually, our somewhat lonely new routine took shape.
He made good friends who didn't judge him as many citizens: relatives of the children killed by the weirdo.
Affectionate surname.
We finally started to straighten up ... Until one day a couple broke into the house, terrified Doug, Chara's best friend, while frantically attacking me and the other taking my brother out of me in the blink of an eye.
Despite my success in containing who attacked us, the other simply disappeared without a trace ...
It was like magic.
The search began in a human pursuit.
All in vain.
Police dropped the case in the fourth month, new ones were emerging. And there's no way to blame them for that (in a small, old town near the mountains, Ebottown had its high dose of violence.)
The neighborhood avoided me as if infected with the plague and made a point of emphasizing how much I was despised.
Escape, death. I thought of all this.
But the spark of hope that he could come back kept me from leaving. And for that, I tolerate.
All the antagonistic attitude of the neighborhood took me from my daily work.
It just wasn't working, and my colleagues got angry every time my presence disturbed their eyes.
To ensure basic survival, I accepted the night job offered by Luka, (The intimidating woman, the neighbor of the front house. Tall and powerful, with flawless black skin. Wearing her full hair or brightly colored turban, but there was always a vibrant purple, almost neon. His style of clothing was almost Gothic, spiders reminded me, for a strange reason.). The job was in a very elegant night bar serving colorful drinks and a space for parties or 'dances'.
All the darkness and the bright alcohol made it difficult for people to recognize me, and anyone who dared to bother me was quickly arrested by the other bartenders or Luka, who was responsible for security.
Strange to say that I felt more comfortable there than in my own home… loneliness ails me.
Like now, a rainy day, with strong winds. Typical of the city. Interestingly on my day off.
No strolling around, (Y/N).
* The rain outside is cold as your feelings and you know you don't deserve it.
A sigh and a roll of his eyes. I was annoyed myself.
This whole situation, as if childhood turbulence was no longer enough, made the most frequent episodes of self-deprecation.
Now it wasn't just my huge thighs or scars until I said enough. Or having tires in place of a perfect waist, or my abdomen getting easily swollen. No ... That's what I said, how I said it, how I breathed ... I probably needed help:
* But no one will come ...
I got.
Luka was a good person, but I couldn't pour that much on her… I'm not worth it.
With a flick of my tongue, I got up from the flowered carpet, centered in a bedroom entrance.
I just went in there to clean, other than that, I watched the empty beds by the entrance, in silence.
I closed the door carefully, looking back out of habit before going to the bathroom.
A few gray floors peeled off the wall (cheap workmanship), the sink still full, but there were leaks in the pipe, the toilet was so bad it clogged up with the urine flush, the boxing was tiny, as if someone was trapping you in the closet while bathing you in cold water. Yes, the shower burned.
At least I still have cute cabinets and a mirror….
Ah…
I looked into the mirror.
* After all, it's still you.
Long, curly hair, very messy and (h/c), with all the broken hair floating around (better known as fritz and he was too thin to be soft), reddish brown eyes (which weren't as red as Chara's) were probably the only things I liked about myself. Then we have my skin (s/c) very pale due to lack of sun exposure, random acne spreading, not in excess but bothering, deep dark circles, decorated with today's tear marks.
A humorless laugh escaped my lips, his hand moving almost on its own, turning on the tap, rubbing the water over his face carefully.
This is kind of dangerous, being alone with my sad thoughts.
" Finally. " I sighed, wiping my face on the nearest towel, hands then, as a painful smile crossed my face.
" I have that." I tapped my side pocket of shorts where a deck of cards accompanied me everywhere.
It was like an extra part of me since Luka gave it to me, along with three other never-missing items: the black lipstick that Bianca wore when she came out with us, always in a pocket, the yellow ribbon of Daisy's hair on my head. her hair may look like a rattlesnake's nest, but she was always there.) and the weird book of basic flirtations that featured Chara as a pun and that he liked more than necessary (though small, no longer fit into pockets, so the his usual place next to my hip, between underwear and skin.)
I took advantage and wet my hair a little, as if he wasn't coming back to it later.
Finishing up and getting some of the apparent melancholy from my face, I managed a hesitant smile at my reflection, but it returned to the cold look when something seemed to burst in the distance and the light went out.
A blackout… when all I have to eat is frozen spaghetti and I'm out of gas.
So ... so ... perfect.
Worthy of a rainy day, which seemed to get stronger by the moment.
Making a loud, unfamiliar sound, I emerged from the bathroom downstairs, using instincts to move without breaking anything.
A kind of mind map danced in my mind, the matches in the cutlery and candles in the open closet seemed to light up like object-hunting games.
I lit three candles that had already been used, then looked at the plate of food waiting to be warmed.
Shaking my head gently, I put it in the fridge, even though it had no light to keep it intact, and pulled a jar of yogurt in place. This will be my dinner.
Sitting at the round table with a prepared spoon, I began setting up the cards to play solitaire when I heard another noise. Much closer than the last.
Slowly I took the cards from the table and stuffed them in my pocket, frowning.
A bang ... Coming from the room.
Walking carefully, I approached, looking slowly out the door.
My coffee table was split in half, the iron baseball bat stuck in the wood seemed to be the murder weapon.
That stick was from Luka ...
More noise came from upstairs, my door still seemed to be closed. A kind of cold rose in my veins.
This was strangely familiar.
I looked around the room before going to the club and pulling it carefully.
* The Metal gave you a shiver of premonition.
I climbed the stairs, knowing exactly where to step so as not to make noise, but when I reached the top floor, I relaxed. The noise ceased.
All doors remained closed, my room being the only exception.
I peered through the door and, as I thought, he fled, as he had a year ago.
The room was ruined, as if it had been a break-in party.
The bed broke, the mattress was torn, as were my papers and the wardrobe on the floor, some scattered clothes, a strange substance staining the rug and writing on the wall:
- You know where to find me. -
My camping backpack, which I used during the research, and a book on the history of the city were in the center of the room. The open book, an image of Mount Ebott circulated there.
"... All right, all right. "
I grabbed the backpack and the book, going down and putting on my neon blue wellies before leaving.
I looked at Luka's house and the staff in hand, then ran, just pushing open the door.
I didn't have to walk much, she was in the middle of the room, which had several broken things.
Concerned, I knelt beside her, almost panicked, but relieved when I saw her breathing.
I used your phone to call the police, but decided not to wait.
Finally, I have a clue. A chance to catch him. I needed to do this.
I laid her on the couch and left a small note, leaving before I changed my mind.
* You are full of justice.
It was night when I started to cross the forest.
The rain persisted above, making the cold run down my back.
Sharp branches and thorns scraped my skin and ripped my clothes, but now I barely cared.
I needed to continue.
It wasn't long before I reached the clearing in front of the mountain, the place that started it all.
Immaculate gray dust lay where the eternal fire lay. Not washed by rain, not carried by wind. Right there, waiting.
I wiped something hot from my face and turned, the cock getting colder against my skin.
* You need to move on.
Gradually, I felt scratches burning, but I made sure they wouldn't be long enough to stop bleeding.
As expected, climbing was not an easy task.
The soaked, sloping ground was almost a waterfall of mud that made me slip and lose my balance as I stepped on the loose rocks.
My hair, my legs, my clothes had mud on everything.
I dropped to my knees as I reached one of the peaks, breathing hard as I looked into the dark cavern not far away.
Lightning roused me from the trance I entered, so I started to get up, feeling someone watching me.
- It is not bad. -
With one hard blow, I tried to hit him behind me, a whistling noise was all I could get.
My muscles tensed automatically with the evil laugh.
" Not bad. " He sneered behind me again, his dark red cloak flapping violently in the wind, mocking his hands saluting me.
" What you want? " I growled.
He started to laugh, part of his mouth visible, a large scar on the left side of his face, lips and chin.
" Foolish child. You have no idea what you did when you attacked that wizard, do you? Knights are so ignorant. " He shook his head, like I was a lost cause. A gold stick with a ruby top appeared in his left hand. " So we agreed that you should be eradicated, like monsters. But you multiply like rabbits." His voice was thoughtful. " Anyway, it's trivial in our day ... But, how you attacked us ... A massacre is inevitable! " Another laugh followed.
* You have no idea what he is talking about, but decide to face him anyway.
" Does not matter. " I took a deep breath, making a decision. "I don't want to know your motives now." I watched the ruby light up with its magic. " Still ... You must be punished. "
With a speed I didn't know, I advanced and hit the club in his ribs, pushing it aside and giving him a breathlessness.
A sigh of pain was all I heard before something moved away from him and fell to the muddy ground.
I felt discomfort in my chest and arm, but got up without difficulty.
Once again, I set off to attack, but dodging a red sphere he threw.
It surprised me and the rodeo was not so successful, it scraped my arm and burned my skin.
Others came and it was hard to get rid of them, the mud at my feet making me slip all the time.
Adrenaline took over my body and I felt even faster, confident, almost enjoying fighting, the steady pace: side, side, spin, jump, run, roll, attack, lose.
It wasn't long before I hit his face, an uncomfortable, muffled sound sounded around us, something that looked like a tooth flew away from him.
He withdrew closer to the cave, making me follow him cautiously. That smile sent mixed emotions in my core.
Suddenly, many spheres formed and advanced against me at high speed, barely leaving room for evasion.
One of them hit me in the belly and the pain I felt was masked by the lack of mobility.
No matter how much I moved, I couldn't leave the place.
" Finally. " He hardly seemed to have such a hoarse voice that he seemed. " You slippery trash. "
He approached, holding his stomach, sweat mixed with rain, some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
" Now. " He gripped my face tightly, the team being torn from me and thrown into some dark corner. " Come . " My body began to float, following it to the cave.
" Com'on, not look at me like that. I'll tell you a secret. " He laughed.
It wasn't too deep, there were flowers scattered all over the floor, all golden flowers, I think, a smaller hole in the ceiling where the rain fell and a larger, very dark hole in the floor. On the walls, several inlaid crystals gave the lighting a mystical feel.
Suddenly I was hurled, slipping on the floor and ruining some flowers, stopping right at the edge of the hole.
Barely able to move, I lifted my face to face him.
I was completely defenseless.
There was a macabre smile on his face, his now visible eyes glowing with blood red.
"Your brother is just waiting." He whispered. " Go get him. -"
And a kick threw me in my death.
Soon, only darkness painted my world.
*It's the end.
· · · · · · · · · · · · · End notes
My english is very beginner, so i'm using the help of google translator.
If anyone with available time can help me review, I appreciate it.
(Y/N) - your name
(h/c) - hair color
(s/c) - skin color
More legends will be added in the future!
Word Count:
About 2,880
If i use any images similar to the game can be found on the Gamejolt website. They do not belong to me.
#undertale#underswap#undertale au#reader#fanfic#neutral route#chara dreemurr#mages#magic#underswap x reader#swap papyrus x reader#swap papyrus
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Untitled Chapter 1 of my Drarry fanfic. Let me know what you think... **Not much HP/DM interaction in ch 1, but it will later on... loads of it**
It was true what people said. Hogwarts would never be the same.
He didn’t want to believe them, but he had been staring at the newly remodeled castle from his seat on the train for the last five minutes, and he finally was forced to accept that it was true. Suddenly, all his memories of the aftermath of the war flooded through his mind.
--The trials had dragged on for months. More and more people were brought in to give testimonies, and Draco Malfoy was not excluded in all of this. Since he’d willingly given himself up to the Ministry, his trail was among the first. He spent several grueling hours in the Trial Chamber listening to people talk for him and at him. They eventually brought their golden boy, Potter, in to testify in Draco’s favor for reasons he didn’t care to know, and even his testimony wasn’t enough to clear Draco of the charges laid against him. It was only when he was forced to speak up for himself that any progress was made. Telling his story to prove he didn’t deserve Azkaban only worsened the case of his father. The veritaserum was beyond brutal, and by the time he was finished, he’d let loose enough information to keep his father and many others in prison for several lifetimes. He had successfully outcasted himself from two wizarding communities, which effectively alienated him in society.
After days of deliberation, the Ministry officials acquitted of all charges that were in place. The last thing he remembered about his trial was making eye contact with Potter and nodding his head in a silent “thank you” to the boy. He didn’t expect anything in return, but he felt like he needed to that much because the had just helped save Draco from a life in Azkaban. However, Harry nodded back at him, taking Draco off guard. The nod wasn’t a “you’re welcome” nod. It was more of a “No, thank you” nod, and Draco didn’t really understand that. Maybe he had read it wrong, but because he had studied Potter and his actions for several years now, he knew the other boy’s face like he knew his own reflection. How else would he have been able to identify him in the manor when Voldemort had asked? There was no way he had mistaken it…. But why would Potter be thanking him after everything that happened?
He shrugged away the thought as his mother pulled him out of the chamber and disapparated home with him in tow.
Summer came and went, and soon it was time to pack for school. His mother always helped him with the honours because she apparently thought him incapable of doing so. He sighed deeply as she raided his wardrobes and chests. He found her actions more annoying than anything, but he was happy to have her around. His father would be spending the rest of his days in Azkaban for his actions during the war, and this hurt Draco very deeply. For so long he strived to gain the approval of his father, and without the man’s presence, he’d been forced to learn to live a new way. Well, he was still trying to figure that out anyway.--
He studied the castle as it was becoming clearer and clearer the closer they came to it. It seemed smaller in a way, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. The structure was rebuilt to look exactly as it did before. He wondered if everything about the interior would be the same as well. Of course, the atmosphere would be different with McGonagall as the Headmistress, and the variety of new teachers, but he hoped it still felt like home when he arrived. He wondered about the annoying little quirks in the school and if some of them would still be there. Would the staircases still change? Would the secret passages exist? .. the Chamber of Secrets?... Peeves? What about the room of requirement? Would it have survived like Draco?
The train came to a stop, shaking him out of his thoughts. Draco gathered his belongings and made his way through the slim aisle to the exit, ignoring the sneers and looks of bewilderment people gave him through the windows as he passed them. Outside the train, the thestrals waited to drive them up to the opulent castle. It was a trip he had taken many times in his life, but it was different now. He could no longer hold his head high with pride as he had done so often before. There would be no joking around with friends or picking on some poor first year. He knew that he was taking a great risk in coming back to Hogwarts for his eighth year, but there was simply no other path for him to take since he needed to rebuild his status in society. Since he was focused on other things during his 7th year in school, he had neglected his studies, and now this was his only option. He also didn’t really know what else he could do to occupy his time. There was no way that he was going to follow his father’s footsteps at the Ministry, and now he was left to figure out things on his own. He suddenly felt like he knew what it was like to be average. The thought sent a shiver up his spine and sent a foul taste through his mouth.
Suddenly, Draco was pulled from his thoughts when the thestral pulled up to the gates. He waited until all the other students found their belongings and headed for the castle before he got up from his seat. He got down from the carriage, and walked slowly over to the few remaining, unclaimed trunks to find his and then make his way to the dungeons…. or would that still be where he will stayed? He wondered then how 8th-year students would spend their time at Hogwarts? Would they still be in their respective houses? Would they remain in their common rooms? There were an uncomfortable amount of questions and thoughts that entered his brain just then that he didn’t notice the one other student who had waited until the crowd cleared to gather their things.
The first thing that caught Draco’s attention was the reflection of light on his hand. He looked up and noticed the setting sun was reflecting off of a pair of glasses. He dropped the luggage he was picking up, causing a pair of absurdly green eyes to perk up and look his direction.
Draco’s heart stopped. Seeing Potter again after everything that had gone down between them in the past was like having a boulder placed on his chest. He exhaled after a moment, not realizing he had forgotten to breathe. He hastily looked away and started gathering his things again.
“You know, if you didn’t pack the entire manor, you wouldn’t have as much trouble carrying your stuff.” The comment wasn’t said in malice, but it wasn’t exactly friendly either.
He didn’t dignify Potter with a response. Instead, he scoffed and started gathering everything he’d dropped. How was he supposed to face Potter again after everything?… He turned his body to avoid the boy’s gaze, not knowing how to behave in this situation.
Potter picked up his one bag and handed his trunk off to Filtch who had been furiously working to get all the students’ trunks to their proper places in the castle.
Draco did the same, but he still had several other pieces of luggage to carry in himself since Filtch refused to handle any “extra and unnecessary” luggage, and he didn’t feel like arguing with the man. He didn’t take into account that he would have the help of this mother once he got on the train, but not when he got off. He had managed to get his belongings through the front doors on his own, but there was no way he could manage the stairs with that amount of stuff. There were simply too many things to carry, and he was going to have to make a second trip. He sat down half of his things and began walking toward the doors. He would be late for dinner, but that didn’t bother him because he’d faced enough sneering already on the train.
Potter must not have been far behind him because the doors flew open once more, and their eyes met again. This time, the green eyes met his through a mass of dark, shaggy, wind-blown hair.
Five words was all it took for the memories to come flooding back. It was the same five words that started all of this nonsense and hearing those words flowing smoothly from thin lips was all it took for him to feel like he was 11 years old again attending Hogwarts for the first time. Now he was left standing in the foyer unable to move while the speaker of the dreaded words bounced jauntily up the grand staircase. Draco hadn’t the slightest clue as to if Potter knew what he was doing when he spoke at that moment, if he had meant for Draco to have the reaction he did, yet there he was paralyzed with emotions he thought had long passed. Even now, after all these years, he still hoped for Potter’s approval and friendship.
Who was he kidding? There was no way that Potter would ever allow it. He’d always made himself abundantly clear where they stood with each other. He shrugged the feelings away realizing that he was causing a bit of a hold-up in the foyer. Several other students were trying to get through to the great hall but stopped to gawk at him as he stood there staring at what appeared to be nothing. “Great…. Now, apparently, I’m evil and crazy,” he thought to himself. He bent down to grab his luggage and noticed then that it had all shrunken in size dramatically. He cursed Potter under his breath at that moment. Even when he was trying to be helpful, he couldn’t keep himself for making Draco’s life miserable. There was no way he could get all his clothes fitting properly again, no matter how good he was at transfiguration. Custom made, muggle clothing had become one of his new favourite things, and he’d gotten a whole new wardrobe full of it. He hated shrinking charms… and now he hated Potter more for thinking that he wasn’t capable of casting one himself.
Potter reappeared moments later with the Weasel, and Draco just ignored them. The words, “I can help you there” still replaying themselves over and over in his mind as both his own 11-year old voice and Potter ’s 18- year old voice. It would seem they’d finally come full circle. But would they keep going round-and-round, or would they leave the circle to find a new path?
Draco didn’t know if he was ready to find out if a new path was even an option or not, so he just left things like they were.
_______________________________________________________________________
The dungeons were seemingly unaffected by the battle, and Draco found that rather comforting. The looks, smells, and the atmosphere felt like home, and this was the first time he’d been able to relax since leaving the manor. He knew he should go to dinner, but he wasn’t ready to face it all just yet. Instead, he elected to sit by the fireplace in the common room where he laid his head down to rest for a second but was awakened sometime later as the other Slytherins made their way back to their dorms after dinner.
Draco knew he wouldn’t have much company this year at Hogwarts seeing as most of his friends either finished their time there, elected to not re-do their 7th year, or were claimed by the war, so the fact that the students entering the common room either ignored him entirely or glared at him didn’t shock him at all.
A group of first years, who likely didn’t know who he was or recognize him, disturbed his peace by sitting next to him on the sofas, forcing him to get up and make his way to his bed. When he got there, he found the still-shrunken luggage waiting there where he had abandoned it earlier. He began attempting to restore his things back to their normal sizes and hoped his clothes would still fit properly when he wore them next. Although he didn’t know how muggle clothing would react to magic. He cursed Potter again internally.
By the time he was finished, other students were entering the dorm. He wasn’t in the mood to be bothered, so he skipped his bedtime routine, closed the curtains around him, and he fell asleep almost immediately after laying his head on his pillow. He didn’t even bother pulling back the duvet. His mother would have scolded him for not at least washing his face before bed, but that made being at Hogwarts all the more comfortable to Draco.
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Watch Us Rise
CHAPTER ONE
It's here! My new canon jily multi-chap which I promise I am going to stick with. I already have five chapters written so hopefully updates will also be regular for a while. This has been a long time coming and is my interpretation of events in the Marauders and Lily's lives from sixth year onwards.
I have to thank Cara @dearprongs Ana @htcake Jayne @apalapucian and Bonnie @steeveharrington for all their help on this fic. It wouldn't be what it is without them <3 A special big thanks to Ana because she has been the most helpful and thorough beta, helping with all the technical language stuff as well as everything else.
But yeah... I think that's everything. Let my know what you think!
- R x
canon: sixth year | word count: 4.6k | ao3: read here
Cokeworth, August 1976
Even the breeze is warm and Lily feels it everywhere, lifting her dress up, tugging at her hair, turning the pages of Witch Weekly. She can feel the sun burning through her eyelids but she doesn’t want to move, not yet. Up here, on the only hill in Cokeworth, it’s just her. She can finally breathe. Up here, she’s the only person in the world and she can pretend that all she has to worry about is staying cool. The feeling of relief won’t last. She knows it won’t, but it’s nice to have it, just for a second.
At the end of fifth year all she wanted was for summer to come and now, all she wants is September 1st to hurry up. She needs to get out of Cokeworth. Away from Petunia who has dragged out moving to London for weeks. Away from all the places she and Sev used to call theirs, where they would sit and chat for hours about Hogwarts and magic and make plans with stars in their eyes about how they would travel around Europe together, just like all the other witches and wizards before them. Away from the illness that takes a little bit more of her mum every day, hurting her dad too. It hurts to see him losing her when she can’t do anything about it. Cokeworth used to be home. When she was a child, Lily thought that it was the best place in the world, the only place that mattered. Now it hurts to be here.
“Lily?” She snaps upright, and for a second wishes she’d never left her room this morning. Her house is the one place Sev hasn’t approached all summer. Everywhere else has been fair game to him. The park where they first met. The grocers where he’d follow her around the aisles as she picked up food for her mum. The graveyard where he’d wait for her on Sundays to come out from the service. He’s been everywhere. Like a disease. A disease which stabs her every time she looks at its cause.
“No.” Lily stands before he can step any closer, scooping up her magazine and shoes, holding them to her chest like a shield. Her wand is tucked into the waistband of her underwear and she regrets that choice too.
Sev stands frozen a few feet away, robes as black as the coal that Lily’s father mines. “I just want –“
“I don’t care. I’ve told you a thousand times already, Severus. I don’t care.” She’s not sure who it hurts more.
“Can’t you just listen?” Desperation drips over his words. The lump in her throat tightens. But she can’t.
“I don’t want to listen.” The breeze blows his robes up and she sees the new hem of his trousers, stitched shoddily, without care. It’s so familiar, so him that it almost makes her want to listen. Almost. “We aren’t friends anymore. I never should have been friends with you in the first place.”
“You don’t know what’s –“
“And do you know what’s happening? To people like me? To people you call mudbloods, to people you think are dirty, lesser than you?” She spits every syllable, wishing that almost-feeling hadn’t happened, wishing it was easy to hate him. It was, in a way, but he knew so much of her and she knew so much of him. “Your friends are killing them Sev, and killing muggles too, for sport. Maybe it’ll be my parents in The Daily Prophet tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t let –“
Lily laughs bitterly now, at him, the idea of him having any sway so ridiculous that even he doesn’t believe himself. “It’s over Sev. We aren’t friends.” She turns quickly, not wanting him to get another word in and runs down the hill, the ground hard and hot under her feet. Every step makes her sweat, every step gets her further away from him. She doesn’t look behind her to see if he’s following, just runs until she hits the pavement and then stops, feet burning on the tarmac. She drops her shoes and steps into them, trying to catch her breath.
Her back is wet with sweat, her dress sticking to her like it has been all summer. Every movement is hot and sticky.
The sun taunts her as she walks home and now she lets herself cry, licking the tears away when they reach her lips. Summer is too much, Sev is too much, home is too much.
11 days Evans, then you’re out, she tells herself. 11 days and then you’re out.
“Lily? Is that you?” her Mum calls from the kitchen as the porch door shuts behind her and Lily debates turning around and walking back out.
She can’t, though. “Yes Mum, it’s me.”
“Where have you been?”
“The hill,” she says as she walks into the kitchen, not surprised to find her mum at the stove and her dad sitting at the table, crossword in front of him.
“You didn’t tell us you were going out,” he says without looking up.
“I told Mum,” Lily says.
There’s a pause then her mum says quietly, “Sorry love, must have slipped my mind.”
“It doesn’t matter, she’s back now.” Her dad is looking at her now, staring at her over his glasses, and Lily thinks he’s probably wondering if he should have just stuck with having one child.
“I’ll write a note next time.” It’s an apology, sort of, and he nods and then pulls out the chair next to him. “Come help me with this whilst your mum finishes tea. I’m stuck.”
All Petunia needs to cause a fight these days is just to be there, so Lily takes the high road when she comes through the front door and promptly stuffs a forkful of mash potato into her mouth.
“You started without me?” Petunia asks from the doorway, affronted. Lily is tempted to roll her eyes. Of course they started without her, she’s an hour late.
“You said you’d be back at five and it’s gone six, love,” her dad tries to reason softly. Lily watches Petunia consider this, and then wonders how her parents can stand her recently. She never used to be like this. So… entitled. At least Lily gets to leave. They’ve had to put up with it all year round.
“Yours is hot in the oven, don’t worry, don’t worry.” Her mum leaps up and opens the oven for Petunia to see, trying to appease her. “See?”
Petunia takes a moment then absentmindedly humphs. “Right. Well, Vernon is visiting tomorrow so you better not start without me then!”
Lily almost chokes on her forkful of peas. “What?”
“Vernon is visiting tomorrow,” Her sister says, looking down her nose at Lily whilst she takes off her gloves and sits down. “I thought I told you?”
“You didn’t,” Lily says, looking at her dad and trying not to be accusatory. “No one did.”
“We thought we’d take you two out for tea, love, let Lily stay at home to finish her summer homework. Then there’s not a crowd at the dinner table.”
Oh, thank fuck, Lily holds back a sigh of relief.
“Well, that would be nice, I do think Vernon prefers it when it’s just us,” Petunia sniffs, sickly sweet. Lily wants to kick her under the table. That would wipe away the snooty smile.
Her dad just nods and says, “perfect.”
“That’ll be lovely.” Her mum smiles. Lily wonders if her mum can remember that Vernon is a knob or if she’s just pretending for all their sakes.
Lily’s dad waits for her mum to sit back down then says, carefully, “will you be going back to London with him?”
“Yes,” Petunia replies, as if it’s obvious.
“Well, do you think he’d mind giving us a lift too? It means we don’t have to buy two sets of train tickets.”
Petunia looks at her dad as if he’s asked Vernon to cut his toenails. “Why are you going to London?” Her furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips make her look almost a decade older than she really is.
“Lily needs to get her school things, doesn’t she?” Her dad clears his throat. “We’ve already left it quite late.” He smiles at Lily and Lily smiles back, ignoring Petunia’s sour face across the table.
“I can ask… I don’t know if he’ll say yes. And we’re taking the last of my things back too, so there might not be room.”
Vernon’s car is too big for its own good and they all know it. But her dad just nods, and asks someone to pass the gravy.
When the doorbell rings the next night, Lily turns off the TV set and runs upstairs so she doesn’t have to deal with the prick for even a second. His booming voice fills the house and, in retaliation, she turns her cassette player up too loud.
It hurts her ears and she lets it, flopping onto her bed too hard and then jumping right back up when she sees an owl sitting on her desk.
“What the –“ Lily turns the music down, not wanting to hurt the owl’s ears. She takes a second to realise that it must have come in through the open window. It hoots softly at her and sticks its leg out. There’s a small envelope attached, and a muggle stamp in the corner, which seems very pointless given the method of delivery. She unties the envelope, giving the owl a few strokes, and apologises that she doesn’t have any snacks. The owl hoots, less softly, and flies to sit on top of her wardrobe. Clearly whoever has written is expecting a reply.
Vernon’s voice drifts up from the living room, but Lily’s too distracted now too care that he’s lingering instead of making sure they make the reservation. As Suzi Quatro tells her to come alive, Lily breaks the envelope’s seal and pulls out the parchment inside. She sees the handwriting, looks back at the owl, and then – “Of course. Idiot.”
Dear Evans,
Please read this before you throw it in the bin. I never said sorry last term for what happened and I wanted to but I didn’t know if you wanted me to. So I didn’t and that was stupid because I should have. Hopefully this letter will show you that I am sorry and that I was sorry and I probably will be sorry until I die.
Snape called you a you-know-what and he shouldn’t have and that doesn’t make what I did okay, I just want you to know that I’m sorry he called you that too. Neither of us should have done what we did that day. I thought it was my place to defend you and it wasn’t. I shouldn’t have asked you out either. I don’t know why I did. It was an in-the-moment thing, I think. All I know is that I wasn’t thinking at the time, obviously, and thinking about it now is painful because it was such a class arse thing to do. Godric would be ashamed. Sirius told mum about it and she threw a spatula at me.
But yeah, I’m sorry, and I hope you’re okay.
Enjoy the rest of your summer, see you at school.
James
P.S. I told Babbity not to wait for a reply, but she’s a big fan of bread, so if she’s hanging around, that’ll be why
Lily reads the letter once, twice and then looks at Babbity on top of her wardrobe, and wonders if the owl would tell James if she threw it in the bin. She doesn’t want to throw the letter in the bin, she’s just considering all her options. One option is replying. Except she has no idea what she would say. She reads the letter again, just to make sure she hasn’t misread any of his scrawl. And it is a scrawl, a messy, languid scrawl that means almost all of his essays have to be rewritten so the professors can actually read them. Lily thinks of him sitting in his room writing the letter. Did he have to rewrite it? Did he do drafts? Was his bin full of scraps of paper, like in the films, with half-started and half-hearted versions he just couldn’t get right? Does she care? Did he get halfway through and realise no one but him would be able to read it? Does she care?
“Don’t look at me like that,” she tells Babbity when she realises that she’s been standing in the middle of her room, rereading the letter for a good four of Suzi’s songs. “I don’t care. I don’t.”
Babbity cocks her head, ruffles her feathers and hoots. Probably asking for bread. Lily looks at the letter, her name, Evans, taking up half a line in his handwriting. Then she tells herself to stop being such a fucking flannel, Evans, throws the letter on her desk, and tells Babbity, who is incredibly judgemental for an owl, that she’ll be back in a minute with some bread. At least this gets her a happy hoot.
Downstairs the trumpet that is Vernon’s voice is even louder but Lily heads straight for the kitchen, grabs a slice of bread from the bread basket and jogs back upstairs before it gives her a headache. She looks up at the wardrobe to find that Babbity has moved from her original perch and is now on Lily’s desk, pecking at her Prefect badge. “What are you, a magpie?” Lily asks, quickly tearing the bread into small pieces and making a mental note to clear the crumbs up later. Babbity loses all interest in the badge immediately and Lily picks it up out of harm’s way.
Sirius told mum about it and she threw a spatula at me… James’ words stroll back through her head and she sighs, rubbing her finger over the badge’s shiny surface. His mum knows about her, that he asked her out. Does she care?
It annoys her, the question, repeating itself over and over, squeezing out the memory she’s been trying all summer to forget. Does she care? She knows the answer, or she thinks she does, except she doesn’t really know at all, does she.
“Lily?” Her dad knocks on the door, and Lily jumps, not having heard him on the stairs. “We’re just about to leave, just wanted to let you know.”
“I thought your reservation was at eight?” She asks, looking at her watch as she goes to meet him on the landing. It’s half past.
Her dad shrugs. “You know what Vernon is like.”
“Unfortunately,” she says, not thinking. He shakes his head but laughs too, looking only vaguely disapproving.
“We’ll be back by eleven hopefully. Make sure you’re not hurting your ears,” he says as he nods to the cassette player. “I’ve written the restaurant’s number down in case there’s an emergency.”
“Thanks dad. Have a good time.” She gives him a dutiful hug, dragging it out for a second longer than she would normally, and he gives her a kiss on the forehead.
“Don’t wreck the house,” he says after, over his shoulder in way of a goodbye.
“I’ll try not to. Bye mum!” Lily leans over the bannister, purposefully not acknowledging Vernon, whose thick neck bulges over his collar as he looks up at her from the hallway, frowning.
Her mum waves then is hurried out of the house by Petunia. Lily watches them go, flipping Vernon off once his back is turned. The front door shuts after her dad and Lily waits for the roar of Vernon’s car to start before going back into her room.
“Finished?” she asks Babbity, who just looks at her, picks up the last piece of bread in her beak, ruffles her wings and then soars out the open window, disappearing into the dark sky. The force of the owl’s flight knocks the letter off her desk and Lily crouches to pick it up, placing it and her prefect badge carefully on top of last year’s books. Her name in his handwriting screams at her so she just turns her music back up and drowns it out.
The front door opens again a little past midnight and Lily can hear her parents shushing each other as they come up the stairs. Her light is off and she pretends to be asleep when her mum pokes her head in to check.
“She’s fine,” her dad reassures from behind her mum, in the corridor and Lily waits for the floorboard outside their bedroom door to creak before opening her eyes again. Vernon and Petunia come up the stairs a few seconds later, and they’re much less concerned about waking Lily up. Vernon’s feet sound like bricks every time he steps and it’s only when Petunia’s door shuts behind them that his voice, complaining about how dry the chicken was, is muffled. Although at the time it had been horrible, Lily’s glad that she and Petunia had been given separate rooms when Lily returned from her first year at Hogwarts.
She imagines the havoc it would cause if they were still sharing and Vernon was relegated to the sofa.
A few minutes later the house falls quiet again and Lily pulls her magazine from under the covers. Witch Weekly had generally never been considered highly political or even worth reading by a lot of witches and wizards she knows. It’s known for waxing lyrical about quidditch players and advertising the latest cleaning potion, not strong political stances. Lily had thought the same until a few months ago when she’d flicked to the back and found a list of all the wizard and muggle disappearances that were believed to be linked to the Dark Arts. There was no commentary, no accompanying article. Just three columns of names, ordered by the date they were reported missing. It was too many names and it wasn’t enough, was never going to be enough, to simply be reading the list. It’s all Lily can do though, for now.
Read the list, commit the names to memory and wait.
Vernon’s car is a monster and yet it still feels too small with all five of them squashed in, Lily wedged between her dad and her sister in the back. The radio is barely audible over the engine, which Lily doesn’t really mind because Afternoon Delight is playing again, for the third time since they left Cokeworth, and she’s not sure if she’d be able to handle it full volume. No one is talking because, well. They have nothing to talk about.
Any appropriate topics of conversation were probably worn out at dinner last night and no one’s about to ask Lily if she’s excited to return to her magic school when Vernon is in the car. When Petunia had introduced Lily to him, she’d pulled her aside first and sternly informed her that Vernon believed Lily attended a strict, all-girls boarding school in Scotland for young women who needed guidance. What sort of guidance has never been made clear. The general fib the Evans family stuck with was that Lily attended a posh, private school in Scotland which accepted five scholarship students a year and weren’t they lucky to have such a clever daughter? Clearly, Petunia was not a fan of this version.
Lily notices Vernon looking at her in the rearview mirror now, eyebrows creased together as if he too is unsure of what guidance his girlfriend’s sister needs. She smiles sweetly at him. Then she rests her head on her dad’s shoulder and tries to sleep.
She’s shaken awake later and opens her eyes to see that the countryside is long behind them. They’re stopped in a bus bay just beneath the Charing Cross street sign. “Come on Lils, there’s a bus coming,” her dad says, hurrying her out. Her parents are already on the pavement and Petunia is in the front seat, trying to justify why the only place that Lily can get her uniform from is in London.
“Thank you,” Lily says as she scrambles out. There’s a grunt in reply then the car is roaring away again. Lily and her parents have to dive back as the bus pulls in and a swarm of commuters and tourists tumble out.
She grabs her mum’s hand and leads the way out of the melee, her feet instinctively carrying her towards The Leaky Cauldron. It sticks out like a sore thumb to her, but she knows that to everyone else it’s just the weird gap between buildings. McGonagall had helped her parents see it on their first visit and, ever since, they’ve been privy to its existence.
“Ready?” she asks her mum over her shoulder, checking that her dad isn’t far behind. Her mum smiles excitedly. The illness is nowhere to be seen, not even hidden in her new wrinkles. There’s a steady stream of witches and wizards walking through the pub’s door and they join the queue, behind a family struggling to keeps its youngest member calm. Newly eleven, Lily guesses.
“Remember that?” her mum asks, squeezing Lily’s hand.
Lily grins. “I couldn’t wait. McGonagall had to ask me to be quiet because she was worried I was drawing too much attention.”
“You were,” her dad chimes in, ruffling her hair.
“I can’t believe you’re going into your sixth year already.” They both beam at her and Lily thinks their smiles could power her for the rest of her life.
“And top of my class,” she winks, trying to disguise her blush.
“Intelligence,” her dad notes with a solemn face. “It’s a family gene.”
“Not from your side,” her mum says as she nudges him in the stomach and Lily wishes this moment could last forever. They reach the door then and shuffle through, all breathing a sigh of relief as cool air replaces the thick humidity of London. There’s no way that the temperature isn’t being magically controlled and Lily is grateful all over again for this wonderful world she’s lucky enough to be a part of.
“Please no dawdling! Lots of traffic today, Hogwarts students please go through. No dawdling!” Someone is calling from the back of the pub and they follow the sound. “Peak time, peak time, Hogwarts students please go through.” It’s Tom, the landlord, and he looks exhausted. “No dawdling!”
They join the queue at the back of the pub and, in no time, have been herded through the archway. “Good to see we aren’t the only ones leaving it to the last minute!” her dad jokes as they’re swept up in the crowd.
Diagon Alley is bustling as always except, compared to when Lily visited at the beginning of the summer with Mary, there’s a lot more people her age and younger and a lot of names being called. She loves it. Everywhere she turns someone is carrying a cauldron full of books or the latest broomstick or a cage making noises she can’t quite name. The fear she’d woken up with this morning of possibly bumping into the Slytherins or, worse, Potter, is replaced with excitement and she can’t help the smile on her face.
Her mum pulls the list from her bag and they start shopping, spending longer than necessary in every shop because they all want to look at what’s new. Lily is stopped every few minutes by friendly faces and students she’d helped pass Potions or Charms at some point. Her parents’ smiles grow wider with every hello and wave until Lily is worried their faces will break.
Her friends and dormmates have all done their shopping already, able to get to London much more easily with at least one parent being magic. Lily had been upset at first that she wouldn’t be seeing them but being with her parents is just as nice. It’s only ten days until they’ll all be back on the Hogwarts Express together anyway.
“Don’t be fooled Evans.” Hot breath tickles her neck and she spins, hand ready to jump to her hair where her wand is keeping it in a bun. Avery leers over, her turning a pack of Exploding Snap cards in his hands over and over again. Her heart races and she looks desperately around for her parents. They’re on the other side of the shop, watching a demonstration of Gobstones. They’re safe.
“Having a good summer, Avery?” she asks, meeting his gaze without flinching. He can't do anything here. Not in Diagon Alley.
“Don’t expect special treatment anymore, Evans. You’re filthy,” he sneers. “Snape won’t protect you now, your time is coming.”
Lily’s hand twitches, “Thanks for letting me know, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” She steps around him, “See you at school.”
He doesn’t follow.
As soon as she’s stepped into another aisle she lets her breath out, sagging against the shelves.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
Avery doesn’t scare her, not when they’re in public and he wouldn’t be able to do anything without causing chaos. Avery hadn’t ever scared her. What does frighten her is his confidence, what his words meant. It’s getting worse, growing, spreading like an infestation. When rumours first started spreading that something was happening, that someone was building an army, that he was as strong and powerful as Grindewald, she hadn’t understood. She’d been too young, too new to the world and its history.
All the wars she’d learnt about in primary school had been fought with guns, tanks, and planes. Not wands and creatures. Magic. None of them had lasted this long without any real battles. No leader had waited this long to actually start something instead of just threatening it. They’d all ended too, within a few years. Lily knows this one hasn’t even begun properly. He’s still preparing. They call him the Dark Lord and revere him as a god. Lily isn’t sure if she believes in God, any god, but she knows he isn’t one.
She counts to ten, pushing Avery to the back of her mind with every number, and then goes to find her parents. The shopping is all done and they’re all weighed down with books so she suggests they go for an ice cream then head home. They ask if she’s okay and she forces a yawn for their benefit. Lily doesn’t want to let Avery ruin their day but now that she knows he’s there she can’t help but want to protect her parents. And the best way to protect them is to get them out of Diagon Alley and back into London, the muggle side.
On the train back, two hours later, Lily watches the city turn to country. Then back to city. Then country… county… country and then Cokeworth; home, the factory’s chimney rising up in the distance. Her parents are still doing the crossword together and she’s been pretending to read her new Potions book but she hasn’t been able to focus. Ten days and the view from the window will be country, country, country then her second home, Hogwarts.
Ten days, and she’ll be back with her friends, and her parents will be alone. With her at school, there will be no one to protect them.
Her thoughts run before she can stop them.
Maybe it’ll be my parents tomorrow.
You’re filthy.
Enjoy the rest of your summer...
She lingers on that one. It is, decidedly, a much nicer thought than everything else. She won’t think about Sev or Avery. Not anymore, not till she’s back in Hogwarts. She’ll spend the next ten days with her parents, hot, sweating, happy, safe.
Enjoy the rest of your summer.
She will.
#jily#mwpp#marauder era#rhiannonwritesdrabbles#wur fic#fyeahjamesandlily#htcake#dearprongs#steeveharrington#apalapucian#snapslikethis#october31st1981#alrightevans#prongsno#fredweasleying#gxldentrio#hiddenpolkadots#james potter#lily evans#canon fic#marauders#thank u all so much !!
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Founding Home: Diary One (Part 1)
New Orleans, March 1827
After years of studying, I cannot believe that I am here. I have finally reached a place within my research to keep a journal of my experiments and track the best elements of new incantations. Because inspiration emerges from many sources, I will record the conversations I have along with my observations.
This diary will be a compilation of the magical methods I studied here in New Orleans as part of the Creole and Saint-Domingue communities, concepts shared with me during my time at Uagadou School of Magic, and what I learn from the local Chitimachan community. Honestly, it is refreshing to have a central location for all of this knowledge, instead of the multiple scraps, sheets, and scrolls of paper I have accumulated over all this time.
To be entirely truthful, my utmost hope for keeping record of my work is to use it to instruct students of magik. New Orleans has always been different than the rest of the States in its ‘strange institution’ of enslaving my people, with plantation holders giving Africans a small chance to ‘buy’ their freedom — an opportunity my family benefitted from. Lately, it seems this system is being challenged and free Colored communities are in danger. Even here in Treme — home to generations of free peoples — we hear stirrings of plantations where the last owner was lax about enslaved people reading and writing behind closed doors, and the new owner sets people to whippings and worse for the same acts.
These changes make me feel like something big is coming, and it’s only a matter of time before someone I love is hurt. This fear is even deeper for those of us who hold magik. While non-Colored people paid little attention to us as we read from our eple scrolls when I learned magic, they are now scrutinizing anyone Colored who dares hold parchment in public.
I am not the only one who holds these fears for magik children. I have been speaking with Treme elders, wizards and Pégik alike, and we have concluded that the safest place for us to instruct young wizards is in the swampland. So, for the past six months Francis Guillory, my closest friend and travel companion, and I have examined some of the old Maroon settlements searching for ways to make the swamp secure and habitable. This past month we decided on two possible locations and are ready to embark on the next step, gathering instructors of magik.
With this last thought written, Helene Larieux let out a low sigh and stretched. Seeing the words laid out in her hand reminded her that today was the day.
“Oh Bondye,” she muttered as she took stock of where she was in her morning routine before she had decided to write in her diary, exasperated with herself for sitting at her desk in her dressing gown.
She hurriedly snatched a faded moss green dress from her wardrobe and put it on. Turning to her vanity, she grabbed a small jar of kohl and tiny eyebrush to line her eyelids. Wiping her hands on the hand towel dangling from the end of her vanity, she moved to open the medium-sized bottle of castor oil she kept there.
After spreading a dime sized amount onto her fingers, she selected the braids she’d done in the front of her head the night before and undid them. Satisfied with how they looked in the mirror, she selected a tigon similar in color to her dress, wrapped it around the braids in the back - obscuring them from view - and flattening the folds in the middle. When she finished, the curls in the front looked springy and light, held in place by a fold that rested at her crown.
Hearing a knock at her bedroom door, she went to open it and found her mother’s bemused face. A tall and very attractive woman, with flawless wheat complexioned skin two shades paler than her own and a curvy silhouette that Helene sometimes envied, her mother held a regal bearing that often made it seem as if she were more serious than she actually was.
“Taking your time, as usual, are we?” she said with a smile, “You do realize that Francis knocked on our door ten minutes ago, non?”
“Did he now?” Helene asked, distracted as she put an agate ring on the ring finger of her right hand. “Would you let him know I’ll join y’all in the main room shortly?”
“Hmm, I…” Helene’s mother paused in her response after spying Helene’s diary lying open on her desk. Walking over to examine it closer, she said, “This is remarkably like the leatherwork done by someone I once knew.”
The haunted look in her mother’s eyes told Helene everything she needed to know. Her mother, Carlota, had been born on the Destrehan plantation and had been able to ‘buy her freedom’ due to the assistance of Helene’s father, George, and his Cajun friend, Jean Claude. This had all transpired before Helene was born, but she’d long realized that when her mother had a faraway tone she was remembering a past that she never wanted to talk about.
“Oh, yes, Francis gave me that — maybe you could ask him about it?” Helene suggested quietly.
Her mom snapped out of her reverie at the sound of her voice, “Ah, yes, maybe I should.” She took a last, lingering look at the diary, and walked out of Helene’s room.
After finding and putting on her tiger’s eye necklace that she used for scrolling, Helene added the diary, along with a few other items, to her travel bag before walking out of her room and into the main room.
Walking into the sunlit space, she took in the place she’d always loved yet had also taken for granted. After being home for the past eight months, the novelty of being somewhere she belonged unequivocally still wasn’t lost to her. Perhaps it was just witnessing her mother remember her past, or it could be that the man that she’d just spent most of her time abroad with was standing in front of her, but in that moment, Helene was suspended in sentimental thought.
“Hello, Helene,” Francis greeted her with humor in his eyes, “Nice of you to have dressed up for me.”
Helene followed his gaze down to her feet, where she’d slipped on her tan, lace-up boots that she reserved specifically for traipsing through the woods and swamp land. Looking across to Francis’ feet, Helene noticed he wore his own dusty boots and grinned.
“Well, you know I do my best to coordinate with your laissez-faire attitude towards dressing,” she responded.
Helene’s papa, shaking his head at the pair, brokered, “So I hear you’re making the trip to Bayou Teche today?”
“Yes, Papa,” Helene answered, “Francis has a few contacts within the Chitimachan township there who could be interested in teaching their ways of magik. Maybe even assist us with the school construction project.”
“Oh,” her papa said as he sipped from his cup of tea and settled with it on the sofa.
“Yes,” said Francis, his brown eyes gleaming with a hint of mystery and mischief, “I made friends there during a few of my papa’s work trips and have always admired how they teach magik.”
“You know our healer community here in Treme is excellent in teaching new healers every year…” Helene’s father began.
“This again,” sighed Helene under her breath.
Her father was a gifted healer and something of an anomaly within this traditionally woman-led sphere of magik. When he’d first come to Treme as a teenager, he worked hard to assure other healers that he had no intentions of usurping their clients, only stepping in when his expertise was requested. He’d done well enough to afford helping Manman out of bondage at the Destrehan’s and set up a modest household in Treme by combining his healing and her seamstress earnings.
It was, in fact, his great prowess and pride of being a gifted healer that led him to push his only child, a daughter at that, to pursue healing since she was young. Initially, Helene had been open to it. She had been a young, curious girl who enjoyed helping others and making adults proud. Yet, by the time she began her formal training in magik at the Guillorys at age 11, it was clear she had neither the head nor the stomach for healing.
Now and again her father would bring up the possibility, as if reintroducing the idea would make her change her mind, as he was now.
“And,” her father continued, “I would be more than happy to find a suitable candidate to help with your school endeavor.”
“Oh…” started Helene, who was taken aback, “that would actually be very helpful.”
As her father nodded Helene’s mother, who had caught the end of the exchange as she walked into the room, gave him a wink.
“How about the Pégik elders that you both spoke with, were they any help?” her manman asked.
“Well,” Francis began, “They showed us how they are keeping the schools for Pégik children hidden, and have given us some school supplies they can spare, like slate, chalk, pencils, and the like.”
“That’s useful, right?” asked Helene’s manman hopefully.
“It is, indeed,” added Helene, “Especially because the Pégik elders we spoke to were familiar with the construction of the Maroon settlements before they were destroyed. Many elements of our plan hinge on their insight.”
Helene regretted that they couldn’t involve the Pégik in their plans more directly, particularly because she wished her mother could feel just as useful to her plans as anyone with magik. This was a dynamic that Helene had been navigating for her entire life.
Growing up as a child of a Saint-Domingue wizard father and a mulatto Pégik mother came with its own set of problems, even when living in a free Colored community with a mix of magik and Pégik families. Helene’s mother was so used to seeing magik practiced in secret within the slave quarters of her youth that she had very little reservations about courting and marrying a wizard, but at times Helene felt as if her manman resented being the only Pégik within their household. It didn’t help that within the Treme community the family called home, Helene’s father was in constant demand by wizard leadership and often had to keep his involvement discreet while most of Helene’s closest friends were the wizards she had gone to school with. And what was more, Francis’ mother was one of the two teachers at their small wizarding school, leaving her mother feeling alienated even in building a close relationship with the mother of Helene’s best friend.
So Carlota, who had taught young Helene her letters and numbers while also taking on seamstress jobs, occasionally seemed to deflate when conversations around her became solely about magik. Helene had always tried to keep her mother from feeling as if she’d been replaced, but felt that she’d failed her in some way by making the creation of a magical institution the center of her own ambitions. She knew it was foolish to think this way — this was the same woman who had taken on extra jobs in order to help Helene fund her trip to Uagadou and was just as excited as she was each time she made a magical breakthrough. Yet, she couldn’t help but worry.
Almost as if she’d heard Helene’s thoughts, Helene’s mother probed, “What has come of your studies in Uagadou?”
Helene’s father sat up, interested in her answer. While she had been back home for the past eight months, most of her time had been spent testing out different magical techniques gathered during her time abroad, in collaboration with her eple notebooks from school — which had actually been a small hut on the back of the Guillory property. The remainder of her time back had been spent navigating the politics of obtaining council from wizard and Pégik elders, meaning she spent very little time explaining everything to her parents.
As Helene sat, deciding where to begin a discussion about her time in Uagadou and what she’d learned, Francis filled in for her, “Truthfully, it may be easier to explain what we didn’t learn in Uagadou. During our first month there we were exposed to much more than the main four subjects we were taught here.”
“Do they not spend much time covering eple crafting, healing, potions, and illusion there?” asked Helene’s father, intrigued at the notion.
“Their institution is enormous and old, so while they cover those four subjects thoroughly, students could easily pick four other subjects to advance in and spend little time on those at all,” answered Francis eagerly.
“We were lucky enough to befriend a professor around our age, Kizza Nalule, who specializes in animal transformations,” Helene stated.
“You didn’t!” exclaimed Helene’s mother.
“I’m afraid we did,” Francis smiled with no apology in his voice.
“Well,” Helene’s father calmly ventured, “What are your animal forms?”
“An osprey,” Helene answered quietly.
“A Black bear,” Francis stated proudly.
“I’ll be…” Helene’s manman started before drifting into some choice French words.
“We, um, hate to leave the conversation here, but we have to head to the square before we go to the Bayou,” Francis transitioned.
“Like enfer you do!” said Helene’s mother, ready to interrogate them further.
“Now, Carlota, they’ll be back later and we’ll be in a better, clearer space then, non?” said Helene’s father.
From the look her mother gave her father, then she and Francis, Helene knew there was a very small chance, if any, that her mother would be any less upset the next time they spoke about her becoming an Animagus. But as was typical of her mother when she felt betrayed by her family, she left the room, head held high, went into the kitchen and began cleaning.
“Er, sorry to cut the conversation there, sir,” Francis said, this time with an actual apology in his voice.
Helene’s father sighed, “Yes, not the best way to introduce this change to us, but I suspect she’ll be in a better mood if you bring her something when you return later.”
“We’ll do that,” Helene smiled brightly as she hugged her father goodbye and blew a kiss to her mother, starting out of the front door.
“Good luck you two!” shouted her father amid the sounds of banging pots and pans.
After she and Francis had safely made it down the street and rounded the corner towards Congo Square, Helene finally let go of the breath she’d been holding since deciding to bring up animal transformation only a few minutes ago.
“Well, you’re in prime form,” stated Francis.
“Argh, you know I’ve been struggling with the idea of telling them about becoming Animagi.”
“Of course I did, but I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell them during one of your locket discussions while we were still in Uganda, as I did with my parents.”
“You don’t understand because both of your parents come from Creole wizard families. They understand the prestige that comes with becoming an Animagus, despite the danger.”
“Yes, well my papa is still Pégik and prestige or not, I doubt he wanted yet another reminder of how his family, and his middle son no less, surpassed him in magik,” said Francis, bitterness tinging his tongue.
Helene knew Francis’ papa was a sore subject for him. Shortly before they’d left for Uagadou two years ago, Francis had learned that his father had fathered a child by a Pégik woman, a fact he’d held onto their entire time in Uganda. Francis’ father had always seemed insecure about having no magical ability yet devoted most of his time to carpentry and glowed with pride when speaking about his family. Helene suspected that much of Francis’ anger came from thinking his father wanted another Pégik in his family so he wouldn’t feel so lonely. While she couldn’t hold this thought against Francis, as she often felt the same way about her own mother, she knew talking with him about it would leave him seething.
Deciding to change the conversation to a safer topic, Helene asked, “So, what are we picking up for your Chitimachan friends?”
Francis shook his head as if trying to shake away the dark thoughts that’d consumed him during their walk to the marketplace, “When I last visited, they mentioned needing some work gloves for basket weaving.”
“Hmm, I believe Miss Ella’s stall is on the other side of the square,” added Helene, “She’s the best at keeping labor supplies on hand.”
As the pair made their way across Congo Square, Helene glanced up at Francis, taking in how fine a figure he was. He was tall, at least a head taller than she was — and she was basically a tree sapling with a couple of curves. They were similar in skin tone, what her mother called ‘caramel-complexioned’ but where she was slender he was broad-shouldered and muscular. When they’d finished wizarding school at 18, their families had been sure Francis would ask Helene’s father to begin a formal courtship, given the way they had flirted with each other ceaselessly since they were 16. But graduation came and went, Francis continued to flirt with young women wherever he went and Helene was courted by one of their classmates, Frederick, off and on for a year before breaking it off.
Then Helene and Francis decided on a scheme to develop their own set of eples, at first for fun and experimentation until they found they had a knack for combining eples in useful ways. One of their favorite creations was an eple that coded any letter they wrote to become indecipherable unless read by the intended recipient. After sharing this discovery with a council of elders, it was decided that the two should travel to Uganda to expand their magical training and bring their newfound knowledge to others. While Helene’s primary interest in going to Uagadou had been to read and learn as much as she possibly could, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she’d also hoped that the two of them being abroad together would lead to them becoming more than friends. These hopes were dashed almost immediately after they’d arrived, however, as Francis proved to be just as big a flirt there as he was at home. To make matters worse, it seemed his anger at his father meant he was even more focused on magical advancement than he was occupied with thoughts about Helene. That wasn’t to say that he’d never indicated interest in her. They’d shared a kiss at 17, and while they were at Uagadou, Francis had a very heated conversation with a paramour of hers that seemed to be brought on by jealousy.
Just when Helene thought she might ask Francis to give her a better explanation about this confrontation, she noticed a small face she knew.
“Hey, Francis, why don’t you go on to Miss Ella’s stall,” she suggested, “I see Marie at her dad’s metalwork stall and want to say hello.”
Francis followed the direction of Helene’s head gesture, waved at Marie, then promised to meet Helene there after taking care of his business with Miss Ella.
As Helene walked up to Mr. Louis’ stall, she noticed he was in deep conversation with a customer and gave him a slight nod. Moving to the side where Marie sat, Helene signed ‘hello’.
“How are you?” Marie signed back.
“Pretty good, considering,” said Helene, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you two.”
It had indeed been a while. The last time Helene had seen Marie she was 10 and still held some childlike chubbiness. The Marie she currently stood in front of had grown several inches and showed some signs of early pubescence.
“Yes, I’ve missed you,” Marie gestured, “It’s been lonely having so few people around who know how to sign and use magik.”
Helene felt guilty. Here she was trying to build a magical institution, yet she hadn’t bothered visit one of the magik children she was closest to since her return to New Orleans. To be fair, she’d spent most of her first month back sleeping and accompanying her parents on their various work trips. After that she and Francis had returned to their eple work with the councils.
All of this didn’t make up for the time she could’ve stopped in to check in on Marie, however. Sighing with regret, Helene answered, “Yes, I’ve missed you too. Not visiting is entirely my fault. How have you been?”
“Still working in magik sessions with Mrs. Guillory,” said Marie. “Sometimes it’s hard to not turn word signs into magik signs.”
Helene laughed at the mischief in Marie’s eyes as she signed this. Marie was Marie as always. When Helene began babysitting her, she was a quiet, yet precocious five year old who tried hard to remain settled as her father worked, but couldn’t help but to get into things. Helene had been deemed a responsible enough girl at 17, so the grown ups suggested she watch Marie. Because Helene was more bookish than she was outgoing, initially she’d been afraid that Marie wouldn’t take to her, but she soon found out Marie shared her curiosity for magik and the two became fast friends.
It wasn’t until later, when Helene overheard her parents talk late one night, that Helene learned how Louis and his daughter ended up in Treme with no wife or mother. Apparently Marie’s mother had died in childbirth while enslaved. Louis, who was an accomplished metalworker on the same Mississippi plantation, hoped that his skill would keep the owners from forcing his hearing impaired daughter into the fields. But as soon as Marie turned four, he’d received notice from the overseer that she was to join the others, and was expected to work just as hard, hearing or no. Louis seized his chance to escape as soon as he could and had landed in New Orleans. When Helene had first met him she thought he seemed a bit desperate and on edge, but as time went on it seemed the fear of being discovered had subsided. Even now, Louis sold his wares openly on market days, but only on days he felt safest, usually after there had been a raid.
Helene had always been slightly suspicious of his desperation, but her love for Marie had outweighed her suspicion — how could someone awful have such a great child? For the most part Louis had always been nice to her and had even given her a little coin before her trip to Uganda in thanks for taking care of Marie for all these years.
“How are your lessons going?” she asked Marie.
Marie shrugged, “Well enough, I feel like I can always do more, but Mrs. Guillory says I need to stick to the plan.”
Helene nodded, “She is a stickler for rules. What would you like to do instead?”
“My fingers are itching to work with soil and plants,” Marie answered, “Papa says there’s no more room for plants in our place and I’ve done all I can with our small garden.”
“Oh!” Helene signed with excitement, “I’ve just remembered that I have a few plants that I’ve not been able to nurse back to their fullness since returning. Maybe you could stop by my house later?”
“Really?” asked Marie happy at the thought, “When?”
“How about when Francis and I return from our trip? I’ll come back to the market to pick you up.”
“Yes, I’ll ask Papa!”
“Great!” Helene signed as she spotted Francis heading their way, “See you in a few hours.”
Marie and Louis waved Helene and Francis goodbye as they walked away from the stall.
“So, was your trip to Miss Ella’s successful?” asked Helene.
“Very. I found work gloves in multiple sizes and had enough time to visit the jewelry stall to get you this,” answered Francis, handing Helene a small pouch.
Helene opened it and found a black choker with a cameo image of a woman with curly hair tied in a tigon, much like hers.
“Oh my, thank you,” Helene said with a smile and a hug, “This was completely unexpected. What’s the occasion?”
Francis returned her smile and shrugged, “No real occasion. I just saw it and it reminded me of you. I thought after spending all this time in the swamps you may like something nice. Can’t have you only associating me with mud and sweat.”
Helene laughed and put the cameo in her bag, deciding she would wear it on her next day out somewhere nice. Could it be that Francis returned her feelings after all?
When she looked up again, Francis’ face held a frown. She looked around but couldn’t see anything that would make him unhappy. Shrugging, she joked, “I know what this is about. Your birthday is in a couple of weeks. You’re angling to get a nice birthday gift from me.”
His smile didn’t meet his eyes when he answered, “Nah, but now I’m expecting something grand.”
He walked a little faster than her now, making it to the clearing in the park up ahead. Had she made him angry? How? They were just smiling and hugging. Pushing these thoughts back, she met him at the Apparition point — an old magnolia tree that some wizard had designated far enough from nearby vantage points to be safe enough to travel from.
“Ready?” Francis asked tersely as he held his hands out for side-along Apparition.
“Yes,” Helene started, “Are we—?” but before she could finish her question they were off.
And with a rush, they were standing beside a sign that stated: “WELCOME, Chitimacha Indian Reservation.”
Helene stumbled a little, letting her feet catch up to the ground here. Francis, who had led the side-along Apparition since he’d been here so frequently, seemed to have landed with no difficulty.
After watching Helene to ascertain whether she needed any help, Francis began walking past the sign and into the reservation. Helene caught up with him and together they made their way to the scout post.
Francis stopped and introduced Helene to the guard, Charles, explaining they were here to give someone named Rosalie the gloves she’d requested. The guard gestured them forward and they continued their path towards a tall house made of plaster and thatch that Francis pointed out five yards away.
As they walked the path uphill, Helene noticed that Francis seemed to have shaken off whatever had been bothering him, after speaking with the guard. In fact, the usual spring in his step was back. Perhaps returning to the primary mission put him in a better mood?
They made it to the front yard and could hear little voices laughing in the back. Francis knocked on the front door, and a few moments later someone tall, with long dark brown hair, wearing a loose-fitted red tunic with fine blue embroidery and leather leggings answered the door.
“Hello, Boaz,” Francis greeted them, “We’re here to see Rosalie. She should be expecting me.”
Boaz nodded and looked at Helene in askance, “Is this your friend who wants to start a school?”
“Hi, yes, I’m Helene,” said Helene holding out her hand, “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” demurred Boaz, shaking her hand, “Come and have a seat. I’ll let Rosalie know her guests have arrived.”
Helene and Francis walked into the room they had gestured towards, Francis heading directly to a seat in the corner. Helene followed his actions and took a seat on the bench in the center of the room. As they waited, Helene took in the room. Each wall had been painted a landscape painting with animals moving in the distance. To the side of where they sat, there lay a few sleeping mats, woven rugs, and blankets in a range of colors and patterns.
Helene was thinking through the best way to make her appeal to Rosalie about joining the school, when she walked into the room.
Rosalie was a short woman, with long brown hair, bright brown eyes, and a dimpled smile. She seemed to be the same age as Helene and Francis. She walked up to Francis gave him a hug, then walked over to Helene to shake her hand. She smoothed her long, blue patterned ribbon skirt before taking a seat on the side of the bench closest to Francis.
“It’s nice to see you,” she started looking at Francis, “And to meet you,” she added, nodding in Helene’s direction.
Before Helene could respond in kind, Rosalie continued, “Any luck fetching those gloves I requested?”
“Yes,” answered Francis, smiling as he pulled them out of his bag, “I got them in an assortment of sizes. I hope there are enough small ones for your youngest pupils.”
Rosalie smiled back while taking the gloves out of his hands, her hands lingering on his, “You’re always so thoughtful.”
Helene felt her gut tighten and tried as hard as possible to make her face appear emotionless.
Francis laughed, blushing a little, “It was no problem.” He slowly moved his hands back to his sides.
Helene tried to clear her head, and voice, as much as she could before mustering, while gesturing towards the backyard where they could hear children talking, “It seems you have a lot of practice in teaching children. What magik do you teach?”
Rosalie followed Helene’s gesture and nodded, “Myself, Boaz, and a few others teach all the magic we know. My specialty being potion-making.”
“Is that so?” asked Helene interested, “My father is a healer and he’s always looking for a potion master who knows their stuff.”
“Is he now?” said Rosalie with an eyebrow raised, “A male healer? May your father be George Larieux, by any chance?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“By reputation,” stated Rosalie with respect in her voice, “He helped our best healer recover from a bad sickness. We thought we might lose her.”
“Oh,” said Helene, thinking she may be making some inroads with Rosalie after all, “I’m glad he could help.”
“Quite,” said Rosalie, as she turned towards Francis, “Do you mind explaining this project you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Sure,” Francis stated, giving Helene a brief glance before beginning, “As we’ve discussed in the past, the non-Colored seem to be enforcing greater restrictions on Colored populations and wizards are becoming worried that the security measures that worked when there was little scrutiny will completely fail during a crack down on Colored communities.”
“You must have heard about the militias who destroyed the Maroon settlements all those years back?” added Helene.
“I have, but that was quite a while ago and a few of your fellow freedmen assisted, no?” said Rosalie.
“Well...yes, but—” Helene started.
“...our elders believe that soon enough similar measures will be taken due to the visions a few of them have had — but this time these actions will include the destruction of free Colored communities as well,” Francis ended.
Helene sat back, surprised that Francis would share the contents of a vision with Rosalie. They had been entrusted with this information by the elders, who’d expected them to keep it quiet lest the details of the vision lead to a mass exodus. Neither Helene nor Francis had shared this information with their parents.
If Rosalie noticed Helene’s reaction, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she nodded saying, “This matches some of our concerns. One of our elders had a vision of settlers pushing us further out of our land soon.”
The three sat in silence for a beat, each trying to decipher what it meant that elders from two different communities shared similarly foreboding visions.
“And you’re suggesting the answer to this forthcoming violence is what? Teaching?” said Rosalie with light sarcasm.
“But you see, the location is central to this plan,” started Helene.
“What? In swampland?” asked Rosalie in a near sneer, “As you can see, we live a good deal away from settler eyes and can practice magic without being devoured by mosquitoes. Why would I leave my students here to go teach in a lagoon?”
Francis caught Rosalie’s gaze, “Rosalie, that’s a bit unfair. We would never ask you to leave your students.”
“No? You’d have me ask their parents permission to uproot them from the family and home they know because of a few visions and your friend’s ‘brilliant’ plan?” she finished, no longer containing her barbed speech.
“That’s it. It’s fine.” said Helene angrily standing up, “You can keep your students and your teaching and your potions here. I don’t want help from anyone more worried about mosquitoes than they are about protecting their people.”
Francis quickly stood up and moved between the two women. “I don’t think we’ll have any progress in conversation here today. Rosalie, if you don’t like the idea of helping us build the school, would you at least consider coming out a couple of times a week? We could really use a potions master of your caliber,” he said with a strained smile.
Rosalie gave an imperceptible incline of the head, while waving them away.
Francis led Helene out of the door, with only a slight glance back on their way out. Helene grumpily moved out of his arm span and stomped her way towards the reservation entrance, not sure who she was most angry with at the moment.
While halfway down the hill, Helene felt the presence of another person and glanced back to find Boaz following them. When she stopped and turned in Boaz’ direction, Francis caught up with Helene and then waited as well.
Boaz stopped in front the couple and said, “I heard what you said to my sister. I want to help you.”
Helene, who had been braced for round two of the argument they’d just left with Rosalie, was unprepared for this interaction, “Pardon me?”
“I want to help you build your school and help teach people,” Boaz repeated, “You may find my gifts better suited to your goals than Rosalie’s anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I’m a weaver and builder.”
“May I ask,” Helene inquired, “Why you’d like to help us, after I just had a row with your sister?”
Boaz’ face remained diplomatic, but even so Helene could see a twinkle in their eyes, “My sister often has rows. What matters here are the visions you spoke of, you see, the elder Rosalie mentioned is my grandmother.”
Francis gasped, “Mrs. Sennet had that vision?”
“Yes,” Boaz answered, “And she told me that when your friend came, I was to assist. I’ll await your next correspondence by osprey.” Then with a nod to Francis and Helene, Boaz trekked back up the hill.
Helene and Francis looked at each other in stunned silence for a minute or so, before turning to continue their way back to the reservation’s Apparition point.
Francis stopped Helene before she turned to Apparate back to the park on her own. “That wasn’t how I expected this to go, but I think it’s safe to call this trip a success, right?”
Helene gave him a small shrug before turning on the spot, just before she pictured her destination, she thought triumphantly, “We did it!”
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Eple Creation
Before drafting an eple, or spell as it is said in English, you must first sequester yourself to a location at a great distance from others. While simply thinking of an incantation isn’t sufficient to conjure a spell with one's hands, if one isn’t careful you may find yourself absentmindedly muttering different spells as you work through an incantation.
The simplest eples are created by using the prefix of one spell and the suffix of another. For example, if taking the prefix ‘levi’ from the incantations — Levicorpus or Wingardum Leviosa — then adding the suffix ‘me’ from the incantation – Point Me — one would find themselves hovering in the direction of the item they seek.
Eples are best created by wizards who have a wide range of incantations under their belt because they know how each eple feels when spoken and achieved. It is for this reason that eple creation is not taught to students until they have shown mastery of non-verbal eples.
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Roman’s Delivery Service - Chapter 1
ao3 link | Masterlist | Some art i did for it
Authors note: So i’ve had this idea of a 'Kiki's Delivery Service' au for a while and as im such a huge Studio Ghibli nerd i thought i’d make it anyways. It’s had a while in the making but i finally managed to finish it and i hope you like it as much as i do :)
Summary: When a witch or wizard turns 13, on the night of a full moon they must leave home for a year in order to train in which ever skill they choose to persue. Roman is no different. At 13, he must go away with his black cat, Virgil, to train a year away from home as is customary to do so with his family’s and village’s traditions.
Pairing(s): Platonic pinxiety
Warnings: witches/wizards?
Words: 3454
Tags: @novagalaxy4real @tree4life25 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @say-no-to-this-but-its-laurens @magicmapleleaf @moxiety--sanders101 @vrexemi @theresneverenoughfandoms @patchworkofstars @iris-sanders-athena @virgilssweaterpaws @ravenclawicecream
“-we’ve been receiving so many calls from people, asking about this marvellous airship called ‘The spirit of freedom’ which may or may not be passing over our area soon. I’ll let you know more as soon as we have more information available to us. But first, here’s the weather forecast; skies are clearing up, thanks to a high pressure front, moving in from the mountains. Mild winds will be blowing in from the west, pushing the clouds out by this evening. There will be a beautiful full moon lighting up the night sky, so if you’ve been planning something special, tonight might just be the night to do it. Tomorrow also looks good with more clear skies and sun-”
Roman switched off the portable radio with a ‘click’ and sat up from the lush grass he had been laying in previously, cloud gazing.
He stood up and brushed the grass which had gotten stuck to the back of his trousers off, bending backwards till his back cracked.
“Virgil! Wake up!” He said excitedly to the black fur ball who had curled up and was asleep, basking in the summer sun.
“Hmm?” The cat replied sleepily, only half awake.
The young boy then started to walk through the flowers of the meadow and back towards his house’s – making sure his black cat, Virgil, was following behind him. He could be a little sarcastic sometimes, well sometimes was an understatement, but Roman still loved him anyways.
“C’mon Virgil, let’s go tell mum and dad!” Roman shouted back to his cat as he started to race down the dirt path that lead home.
“Yeah, yeah, sure, just slow down already!” the dark fur ball shouted back. “Not all of us have long-ass legs like you!”
“Oh hush, let’s just go!” the young boy kept on running.
“Good afternoon, young Roman! Where are you off to today?” one of his neighbours called to him as they passed on their bike.
“Good afternoon, Mr Hamada! Just off home for now.” Roman slowed down ever so slightly and greeted him.
“Rightio, don’t let me be in your way now!” then he started to cycle on again.
“Have a good day sir!” Roman called and then continued running home, thoroughly tiring his cat out in the process.
“Slow down!” Virgil whined as he tried to keep up with the fast pace, but Roman paid no attention to his complaining, he was well used to it at this point in his life.
Soon enough, he could see the driveway of his house, the plants in the front garden coming into his view. He then picked up the pace only slightly, dodging and swerving in between all the pots and leaves. Once he got to his house, he went straight into their conservatory where his mum was busy making a potion for another one of his neighbours – an old lady he knew as Ms Flora.
She was a nice old lady, a neighbour he had known for as long as he could remember and she was also a regular customer of his mother.
“Hey mum-! Oh hi there Ms Flora,” Roman greeted the old lady when he saw she was there. “Hey mum, it’s gonna be a clear night tonight! And guess what?!” he continued, “The radio had said there is going to be a full moon too!” He finished a little too quickly, but that just showed his enthusiasm over it
“Did you go and borrow your father’s radio again without asking?” His mum scolded, raising an eyebrow as she concentrated on the potion she was making.
“Oh don’t worry, he doesn’t mind about that.” He waved off the concern and returned back to the topic he was talking about. “Please excuse me Ms Flora. Mum it’s going to be the perfect midnight to leave home! I can’t think of another night id want to, and it might not be like this again!” He half begged.
Roman’s mother was surprised, and momentarily paused in her potion making, but then continued as there was a timeframe she had to meet with the ingredients. Roman didn’t really understand why, but then again potions always seemed to bore him to no end.
“You mean tonight? Next month is what you told me!” She said, voicing her surprise as she mixed ingredients together.
“Yeaahhhhh, but the next full might well be on a cloudy night! And I want to leave on the perfect midnight! It is a special occasion after all!” The boy tried to reason, it made sense to him after all.
“Huh? But Roman-” said Roman had already to rush up to his room to start packing his back to be able to leave. “Wait!” She yelled after him, but little did she know her potion was beginning to bubble over and burn, and soon enough it exploded. Once the smoke cleared from around her, she could see that the glass tube had cracks down the side, and that the potion she was making had been ruined. She sighing, she started to go through and remake the potion again.
There was a chuckle from her guest who sat at a table in the room which had all sorts of different plants around it. “My oh my, what’s this all about hmm?” she laughed light-heartedly.
“It’s one of our oldest traditions, when a witch or wizard turns 13, they must leave home for a year in order to begin their training to become a witch or wizard.” She explained while making the new potion.
“Your little boy is 13 already? Goodness me how time flies.” Ms Flora smiled.
Roman’s mother agreed, “He seems so young to be leaving home now…”
Ms Flora sat back in her chair. “Well, I remember the very day you came to this town. A little girl flew down from the sky on a broomstick. And I was certain she was much too young to have such an important job as the President Witch.” They both chuckled.
Once she’d finished making the potion, Roman’s mum went and sat down across from Ms Flora with the potion.
“Yes, but at least I could actually fly, Roman barely knows how to do that! And every time I’ve tried to teach him how to make potions he gets too bored or I just never even have enough time to even teach him.” She said, worry hinted in her voice.
The old lady considered this for a moment and then spoke again. “Young people these days are all the same. They all want to do something different to what others want them to do. But I do hope at least that you get to teach him the potion that cures my Rheumatism.”
They both laughed at that and Roman’s mother was left with a tad less worry than she had before.
---------------
“Hurry up!” Roman rushed around his room, grabbing clothes out of draws, throwing them onto his bed and then shoving them in to his trusty red bag. “We had always said that we could leave on the perfect night, didn’t we?” He said to his cat as he sorted through a draw of socks.
“Nuh uh. Our plan was to stick around for another month and play it safe. I like that plan.” Virgil deadpanned and hopped aside to avoid his tail being trodden on by Roman as he ran around.
“And then if we put it off for a month and I find some wonderful boyfriend then what will we do?” Roman pulled shirts out of his chest of draws and without folding them very neatly, put in them into his bag, pushing them down to make them a little smaller.
“Uh oh…” Virgil said worriedly.
“Come on Virgil!” Roman then decided that unless he folded things then everything wouldn’t fit so he emptied the bag and then started rolling all his clothed up – a trick he learnt from his father to make clothes smaller.
“I’m going to put my paws together and pray you’re not serious about this princey.” The black cat had to dodge a shirt which was thrown his way, the boy deciding it wasn’t worth taking. Virgil didn’t blame him, neon orange wasn’t really Roman’s colour.
“Of course I am!” Roman replied a bit crossly and paused in his packing to look at his cat. “You very well know that ever since this prince has turned 13 I have been excited to make this trip.”
He swiftly finished off packing by taking his savings tin down from his bookcase and shoving it into the middle of his bag, so that it wouldn’t easily be lost. But then he remembered the prince outfit hanging up in his wardrobe and then folded that neatly, packing that too, he couldn’t leave it behind after all.
“There.” He said once he was happy with how things fitted. It was then that he heard a car pull into the driveway. “Dad!” He exclaimed and then ran over to the window, which, when he looked out, showed it was indeed his father who had pulled in.
Roman’s father looked very much like Roman, and Roman looked pretty much like his dad did when he was younger, except for the fact Roman had freckles, brown hair like his mother and he didn’t wear glasses.
“Dad! Guess what?!” He yelled out of the window. “I’ve decided that I’m going to leave tonight!”
His father was surprised to hear this, much like his mother, and paused in undoing the rope which was attached over the top of his car, keeping all sorts of different things in place.
“You’re going away tonight?!” he shouted up to Roman.
“Yeah! There’s gonna be a full moon tonight!” Roman called back.
“Well yeah, I guess so, but what happened to the camping trip we were supposed to take this weekend?” Roman’s dad managed to get the rope free from the top of the car. Pots, pans and other camping supplies were held atop the car. He sounded rather down about the fact that they may well not be able to go on the trip together as a family.
“Sorry dad!” Roman apologised and then went from the window back to his bag to check he had packed everything he needed.
“Oh, uh, Roman, wait-!” Being a tad distracted with talking to Roman, he didn’t notice the rope that was on the floor in front of him, so when he went to run inside, he tripped on said rope and then caused a lot of the equipment to come crashing off of the top of the car. He hesitated, looking back and forth between the house and the car trying to figure out what to what to do, but decided it would be best to at least sort out some of the things from the top of the car before he went inside.
---------------
Roman’s mother had finished up working on her potions and had gone up to Roman’s room. She had gone up to make sure all of Roman’s robes fit him correctly and to make sure the hem lines were right and fit right. His outfit was simple, a black shirt and trousers that matched. She had originally wanted Roman to wear what wizard’s usually wore, an outfit which was just one piece and was like a dress, but wasn’t a dress. Roman had protested against it and she ended up giving up on fighting him over it and they settled for a shirt and trousers. It wasn’t what she would have preferred but at least Roman was somewhat happy with it and it was traditional colours.
“Very handsome.” She remarked as she sewed up a hem on his right trouser leg.
Roman looked into the full length mirror they were in front of and frowned. “White would look better on me, or even my prince suit!”
“Listen, wizards and witches have worn this colour for a very long time Roman, you know that.” His mother reminded him.
“Oh but mum,” Roman continued, “I look really… dull.”
His mother finished and then stood up, putting her hands comfortingly on his shoulders as she grinned into the mirror. “It’s not really important what colour or style your clothes are dear, what matters is the heart inside.”
The boy smiled at this, “well I’m going to be the very best wizard that I can be mum! And I know that having a good heart is very important. But I do wish I could wear something different…”
His mother ignored the second half of his statement and replied, “Just follow your heart and keep smiling.”
Roman smiled at her in the mirror and agreed. “Yeah.”
“And be sure to write home as soon as you are settled.” She said as she packed up her sewing kit and proceeded downstairs from his room.
“Okay,” he called after her. When Roman saw his dad coming up the stairs he gasped and ran over to him. “Dad! Oh can I take the radio please?” he then proceeded to shout downstairs. “Mum, didn’t you say I could take the radio?” He looked over the banisters and saw his mother give him a nod as a yes. “Yay!”
His father chuckled. “Oh alright, it’s yours already!”
“Thank you!” Roman thanked him and smiled widely.
His father sat on his bed, he’d just come upstairs from calling all their family and friends to inform them of the date change of Roman’s leaving, they wanted people to be there for when he left after all.
“Well now,” he looked at Roman’s outfit. “You certainly look very grown up, Mr Wizard Prince.”
“Well I’m glad about that! One can’t be a prince if you don’t look grown up enough!” Roman beamed. “Hey dad, would you be able to lift me up high like you used to do when I was little?” he asked, holding his arms out.
“Well…” with a little struggle, Roman’s dad managed to pick him up and hold him up above him, spinning around a few times causing Roman to giggle, before dropping him back down, catching him and hugging him close while still carrying the boy.
“How come you never told me you were growing up so fast?” he murmured to Roman quietly. He then let Roman go from the hug but still held him. “You know, if this don’t work out, you can always come back home?”
Roman looked a tad taken back and smiled. “And come back a failure? No way!” he then made a face and stuck his tongue out, making both of them laugh.
“Will you write to us, if you have the time?” his dad asked him.
“Mhm,” Roman made a sound of agreement and then snuggled closer to his father. “I love you dad.”
They stayed like that for a little while longer before they had to double check Roman had got everything packed and then get ready for that evening. It was going to be a big event after all.
---------------
As the weather report had said, it was indeed a clear night, not a cloud was in sight and the full moon was up high in the sky. There were various groups of Roman’s friends, his parent’s friends, family members and neighbours gathered around outside of their house, ready to wave Roman a goodbye when he leaves.
Roman himself was joking around, or as some would say, having banter, with a group of his friends from the village.
“Ooh, so are you going to find a city by the ocean?” One friend asked him.
“Or maybe even a town?” Another added.
“Well, at least that’s what I’m hoping to do anyways!” Roman grinned, and his friends agreed on ‘how cool that would be’.
“Man I’m so jealous, you’re gonna have so much fun!” one of his friends remarked.
“I’m not going just for a good time though,” Roman stood up straight and held a finger up. “In order to become a good wizard, I have to train a whole year away from home.” He told them.
“Yeah, be sure to tell that to the boys,” his friend elbowed him in the ribs and the group all laughed. It was a well-known fact in the village that Roman had an attraction to boys, and they were all very accepting of it, those who weren’t were shunned however. It wasn’t really that big of a deal to anyone there, they just saw him for who Roman was and nothing else.
Their joking was cut short when Roman’s mother called him over, saying that it was time.
“Kay!” Roman waved to his friends, the broom he made earlier that day clutched in his grip as he ran over to his mother, who was also holding her broom.
“That’s going to be the broom you’re leaving on Roman?” she questioned, looking at his broom uncertainly.
“Yup! I made it all by myself this morning actually!” Roman said proudly, holding it out so she could see his handy work. His mother had other ideas however.
“Honey, that broom is too small to be truly safe, I’d much rather you took my broom instead, I know it better,” she insisted, not backing down.
“But mum that one’s so old! It’s pretty much ancient!” he protested.
“And that’s why it’s good!” his mum explained. “You can rely on it time after time and in any kind of weather too. Roman, do this for me please?”
“But I put so much effort into making this one,” He said, downcast. He then turned to Virgil, hoping for the cat to back him up. “Right Virgil?”
The cat paused from licking his paws from where he was seated on Roman’s shoulder. “Your broom is nice, but let’s take your mother’s.” He said flatly.
“Well you’re no help.” He pouted and glared at the black cat.
Ms Flora spoke up from where she was seated, “Now Roman, wouldn’t you be able to make yourself another fine broom once you’ve found a place and settled down?”
Roman sighed. “Yeah I guess so.”
Soon enough, it was time for Roman to leave. He went around and said goodbye to each of the guests there and hugged his friend’s goodbye.
“Be careful,” his mother told him as he hugged her.
“You be strong okay?” his father asked when Roman hugged him.
“I will!” Roman said to them as he made his way out into the middle of the clearing and then mounted his mother’s broomstick.
Flying took a lot of concentration for taking off and landing, so Roman had to focus. In not much time, the dust beneath him had spread around him and he levitated. This caused many cheers from the people around him, making him smile and become a little more confident.
“Oh dear,” Virgil muttered from where he was clinging on to Roman’s shoulder. “You know I hate flying,” but no one heard him say the second part as it was lost in the cheers.
The broom levitated off the ground for a few seconds before slowly falling back to the floor, much to Roman’s dislike. So, Roman did the only logical thing and gave the handle a good whack before he touched down again, which caused to broom to fly off rather suddenly upwards and then forward, making the crowd gasp. Roman hit a tree on his way out, making the little bells which were hung up there ring as he bounced back from that tree. Virgil, however, was screaming at Roman and could be heard well.
“VEER RIGHT! Go left go left go left-” Virgil yelled at him.
“Okay!” Roman yelled back and they hit another tree, making a sound of surprise, making more bells sound.
“Aim your broomstick…” Roman’s mother held her hands together and wished for Roman to be safe.
After a few seconds of nothing happening, Roman’s voice could be heard again.
“Farewell all of you! I’ll miss you!” He shouted and everyone sighed in relief.
“He’s okay,” one of Roman’s friends said thankfully.
“May our little prince be well and have a safe trip,” Roman’s dad said as he listened to the bells which kept sounding, the only sounds left from Roman’s exit. One of his neighbours said he would miss the sound of the bells.
And just like that, Roman flew off, away from home, under the stars in the clear night above him and the light of the moon guiding his way. But that was only the beginning of his trip, for there was a long time ahead of him, but for now he was happy and flying up high in the sky, excited for what adventures might come in the future.
Next
#sanders sides#roman sanders#virgil sanders#patton sanders#logan sanders#kikis delivery service au#metawrites#platonic prinxiety
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Professors in Love (And a Baby Scorpius) - Chapter Two
sorry if this one is a little shorter!
Chapter Links
***
“Merlin, sorry Malfoy didn’t see you there,” Harry shot out his hands to steady Malfoy’s shoulders when it seemed as though he was going to fall.
“That’s quite alright Potter,” Malfoy said sarcastically, flashing a mock grin. Harry gritted his teeth, Malfoy was such a git sometimes. “Funny running into you here,”
“I do live in Hogsmeade, Malfoy,” Harry raised a brow and smirked, “or have you forgotten?”
“No, Potter, I just didn’t imagine you to be the kind of person who frequents tea shops,”
“You were just at a tea shop, Malfoy,”
“I said that I didn’t think you to be the kind of person to go to tea shops, Potter,”
“Well-”
“Could you both stop flirting so we can go inside, Harry?” Hermione pushed his back a bit and Harry blushed at her comment.
“We’re not flirting!” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Yes, of course. Good day, Malfoy,”
“You too, Granger,” Malfoy nodded at the pair politely as he made his way out of the entrance to the shop. His face was blank, but his ears were slightly pink, Harry noted. He followed Hermione into the cafe and took his place at their usual table.
“Hermione, we were not flirting!” He said once they got their tea.
“Say what you want, Harry, but don’t think I can’t see the way you look at eachother,”
“What! There’s no way I’d look at Malfoy like that. And he definitely doesn’t look at me! He’s married ‘Mione,”
“Yes, and I see Astoria and Millicent Bulstrode together at the Leaky almost every Saturday, on dates I might add. A fact of which I am sure Malfoy is perfectly aware,” Harry gaped. Surely they wouldn’t openly cheat on each other? Hermione noticed his expression and added, “A lot of pureblood marriages are like that, they are only together for power and wealth, but for fun they go to others,” Harry sipped his tea, contemplating this.
Maybe he was flirting back there. But he hates me, and I hate him, we never could- his thoughts were cut short by Hermione.
“Have you spoken to McGonagall yet, Harry? You’ll have to be moving to the castle soon,”
“Yeah, I’ll leave two weeks before term starts. Can’t believe I’m actually going back now, though,” Hermione smiled softly.
“And you’ll be alright there, Harry? It’s not too late to back out- or maybe it is, but McGonagall would understand,”
“Hermione, it’s not like it’s my first time back to the castle,” Harry knew that she was concerned about his memories from the battle, and it would be too much for him to stay there. But for him, Hogwarts held more good memories than bad.
He still struggled time to time from PTSD and nightmares, but it had gotten better over the last year. He would be starting as the DADA Professor that year, joining Neville who was Herbology, along with Malfoy who was Arithmancy.
“And besides,” he continued, “You guys are right here in Hogsmeade, and Neville’s with me at the castle. If anything happens, I’ll be fine,” Hermione nodded, but there was still a hint of concern in her eyes.
Ron was going to run the newly opened branch of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes there, and Hermione would still live in their flat, but would floo to the Ministry each day for her job as the head of the Magical Creatures and Beings Right’s division. The branch was formed after the war by Hermione and several other activists who were vouching for werewolf and house elf rights.
***
Two weeks later Harry was spelling the last box of his clothes into the wardrobe in his rooms. He placed the photographs of his friends, the Marauders (without Pettigrew), and the Weasleys on the shelf that lined the wall. Once he was finished he made his way to Hagrid’s, as he had promised to stop and visit sometime during his first day.
While walking through the castle, he noticed something strange. The Defense classroom was next to the Arithmancy room on the second floor, moved from where it had previously been on the 5th floor. He figured he would find out what was going on later, so he continued to Hagrid’s.
Harry had barely knocked on the door once before it was flung open and he was enveloped into a big bear hug.
“ ‘Arry, my boy! How’ve ye been?” Harry grinned and returned the hug.
“I’m great Hagrid, it’s good to be here again,” Hagrid smiled and offered him a rock cake, which Harry politely declined.
“Hagrid, I noticed something strange, in the castle,” Hagrid stilled his hand from where he was petting Fang and looked at Harry with a worrying glance.
“S’not Dark Magic, is it?”
“No! No, not at all, just, the classrooms have changed,” Hagrid’s brows stitched together, and he waited for Harry to continue. “The Defense Room, it’s on another floor, totally different from where I remembered it in school,” Hagrid resumed petting Fang for a moment before responding.
“I’d reckon it’s in Hogwarts:A History somewhere. There’s gotta be a reason for it, eh?” Harry nodded. He’d have to go to the library later.
***
Draco balanced the stack of tomes in his arms. The books were so old that he couldn’t even use magic on them, for it could possibly inflict damage on their condition. The pile was so large that it almost obscured his vision. He blindly groped for the door handle to his classroom and set the books down on the first desk he reached. He looked around the room and with a flick of his wand all of the dust that had collected over the summer vanished.
Draco noticed something strange however, there was a door on the right side of his classroom that wasn’t there before. Assuming that it was just a random storage closet that the elves had put in, he opened it.
It wasn’t a storage closet. In fact, it was another classroom entirely. It was almost identical to the Defense room, and Draco was utterly confused. What in the bluggering fuck is this? He thought.
He went back into the corridor just to confirm, and saw that the door next to his was labeled Defense Against the Dark Arts - H.J. Potter. Oh Merlin, he was gonna kill someone.
#drarry#drarry squad#drarry fic#my writing#Professors In Love (And a Baby Scorpius)#professor!drarry#baby scorpius#scorpius malfoy#Draco Malfoy#Harry Potter#harry potter fanfiction#draco x harry
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