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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition.

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #tom riddle #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

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Hair dye and braids

For you @iamactuallya-cat . I tried my best I promise and I'm still not satisfied

It was a typical November in London, with soft raining which hasn't stopped in the past 2 days . Harry was sitting outside on his porch he had constructed, wearing a light brown sweater with a coffee and music playing on the player. He was thinking about the article in the daily prophet about Harry's new revelation by Rita Skeeter. It was only a few days ago when Harry had came out to the world despite the fact that his friends knew for the longest time that Harry was bisexual but the amount of howlers he's been getting all day was annoying to him. It disrupted his fine evening. He remembered Draco calling him the first thing in the morning

" it doesn't matter what that annoying slimy head says Harry. She doesn't know anything about you. Your friends does and that's all that matters. We still love you for who you are and you know that. She can go on about how it might've been a public stunt but Nobody thinks that Harry "

" it doesn't matter Draco. I don't care-"

" you know what you need, you need to show her in the face that it doesn't matter. You do exactly what you like. Dye your hair if you like , wear a dress if you like, paint your nails if that be it. The politics would soon die out -"

" Draco i- I need to be alone right now. Hope you don't mind " and harry cut the call with a sigh.

All his life, Harry had been someone people expected him to be and less of who he actually is. Somedays he thought it was better to just go along with the flow, be exactly what people wanted him to be to avoid people hating him more than they normally do but someday's he felt like he was too much of what people wanted him to, to the extent he kept other people's opinions first and last his own. He had understood it the hard way that no matter what happens there's always going to be people who doesn't like you. When a man like albus dumbledore he looked up to could be hated then who was he in this pitiful world.

Harry soon caught a glimpse of his reflection on the French window by his side, he saw what people wanted to see, he didn't see himself but what people made him. He frowned at his own reflection. When he looked in the mirror he didn't know who he saw, it upset him. Harry ran his hand through his hair thinking the same thing over and over until he realised he's thinking of people who isn't here with him when he's lonely. They're out there, maybe on a date, maybe enjoying a trip with their family, doing something somewhere and they weren't thinking of him. And then he realised, it was he himself who thought what people thought. It was one version of him telling him what people thinks of him when in reality nobody really cared. Nobody really even cared about someone until it was life or death. He looked out only once before he collected his coat, wore his shoes and left.

" yes I called on my way over for an appointment " Harry asked the receptionist. He gave him a charming smile Before he asked him about his name and lead the way inside.

" I think I like this one " Harry examined the magazine carefully before putting it away and nodding, that's what he wanted. He had decided and now there was no going back.

It was 3 days later when Harry was applying his perfume when he heard the door bell rang. Harry immediately went to open to door to find Draco.

" we need to get - wo- y- you look different " Draco stuttered when he finally landed his eyes upon Harry.

Harry smiled at draco and let him in.

" I went for a bit of change and I know we decided to go for black or grey but I felt like dark green suited the best with the new look but you know it almost looks black. What do you think? You think Ron and mione would like it?" Harry asked as he walked into the bedroom to check once again in the mirror .

" i- " Draco cleared his throat and spoke , gaining his voice again " I thi- I mean they won't mind. I think they'll love it " if Draco hadn't turned around Harry would've definitely seen Draco trying to contain his Infuriating blush.

" you know you still haven't told, how do you like it ?" Harry asked smirking putting on the cuffs of his sleeves.

Draco opened his mouth but only incoherent words came out. Out of surprise himself raised his eyebrows and tried again " do you want me to get you something to drink. I don't think your throat's fine Draco " Harry asked lightly grasping Draco's elbow but Draco Only closed his eyes and shook his head.

" what made you dye your hair blue ?" Draco finally asked after a few moments

" well it was actually your suggestion. You told me if I wanted to dye my hair I should do it or if I wanted to paint my nails or wear a dress , I should do it. I only went with hair dye but I'm planning on applying nail paint whenever I get a chance. I still think the dress part should be reserved, I don't think I would like it very much but I liked the hair part. Besides it's not even the entire hair, it's just the roots " Harry explained as he now sat down and started putting on the shoes.

" I didn't think -"

" that I'd actually do it. Well I didn't think I would too but guess here we are " Harry replier smiling.

" and now your braiding your hair " Draco sat down putting his hands in his face, exhaling.

" is everything alright Draco ?" He asked leaving his hair to fall out.

" i-" he cleared his throat again

" are you sure, you don't need me to get anything to drink?" He asked again

" I'm fine Harry. I think the room is a bit less ventilated. Don't you think. We should open the windows. Oh but no it's raining outside-"

" Draco " Harry held Draco's hands when he kneeled down in front of him " breathe. It's fine. I am still getting you water,okay " Harry smiled at him.

Harry soon returned to the room with a glass of water in his hand and gave it to Draco and resumed trying to braid his side. Draco remained silent for the rest of the time and watched Harry getting ready, which didn't take more than 10 minutes but Draco was sure if he opened his mouth nothing coherent would come out. He would rather stay silent than sound like a monkey trying to explain Harry how he looked.

When Harry was done, the last thing he had to do was put on his coat and when he did so he turned to Draco and raised an eyebrow asking him how he looked.

Draco inhaled then gave him a big smile " like you'll steal Every man and woman's heart "

" well there's only one heart but that also works " Harry chuckled and soon enough they left.

The more Draco looked at harry at the party, little by little he lost his sanity. The man looked perfect, beyond perfect if it were possible. The way his thick eyelashes Settled on his prominent cheekbones and they way his lips looked the perfect amount of red, the way his lips turned into a beautiful smile any time someone would say something nice , the way his green eyes reflected with the suit he was wearing, it was all beyond perfect . Draco couldn't take his eyes off Harry, he looked just like the man of his dreams but then again he already was the man of his dreams just today he couldn't contain himself even a little bit with his hair dyed light blue with braids and the Slytherin-ish green suit. How could he, Harry looked flawless. There was something so different about Harry today, he seemed confident in the way he stood, the way he carried himself and the way he had rolled up his black sleeves, it seemed so reckless yet so beautifully confident, like he didn't care about the world anymore. He remembered Harry in suit from before, the way his suit used to look lousy on him or the way they didn't cling perfectly to his body but today, everything about his body looked so put out like he was showing it off to the world, the way his pants were just so perfectly fitting and how it put out Harry's ass that he never really had a view of and the way his shirt was clinged enough to show that Harry worked out. He could list everything about Harry that looked perfect but Every time he saw him he saw a different part of him that made his heart to skip a beat. Draco wondered how had his heart had not stopped beating yet !

" you are basically eye fucking him at this point Draco " he heard pansy say following Draco's line of sight.

" how can anyone not ? Just look at him pansy. That man is way out of my league " Draco sighed and finally took his eyes off Harry, decided he had stared enough and staring was only Making all of it harder on him.

" well to be honest, for the first time potter does like someone who is out of your league. He could even woo me today and I'd gladly go along with him. Has his arse always been this delicious ?" Pansy narrowed her eyes trying to see his arse properly but Draco immediately covered her eyes with his hands.

" now a woman can't even watch porn " pansy sighed and leaned back in her chair. Blaise laughed at her comment which only made Draco groan. It was true though, eye fucking could Only go this far.

" I'd like to present a toast to my beautiful best friends" Harry had got up on the stage with a glass of champagne still looking mighty as ever.

" if I could talk about how I had to see them pining after each other for years I would but Hermione made me promise to give a sentimental speech on her engagement. So mione this one's for you. I never believed love could be found in one person but when I look at the two of you, I see the way you two look at each other, like you're each other's halves and maybe you are. If fate exists then I think you both were and will always be destined to be together. Happy engagement to my parent's cum friend's. I couldn't had done anything without you guys. I love you guys so much and no not that way Ron" he ended his speech with a raise of a glass.

" that man can talk too " pansy smirked.

" apparently he's the most eligible bachelor in the entire party, hell he might be the most eligible bachelor in entire Britain. Why does he have to be like this pansy? This way I'm never getting him even in a million years " Draco groaned as he drank his champagne again and resumed eye Fucking Harry.

Draco soon discovered that his line of Vision grew smaller and somewhat more magnified . He almost spit his drink when he realised Harry was coming towards him.

" hi pansy, Blaise and you, the man who's been staying away from me all night " Harry sat down in front of Draco smiling.

" was just gossiping about my lonely life with them and boring them " Draco told him

" well, you're not the only one. Wanna dance ?" Harry asked so causally as he tugged his suit closer to his body that Draco almost didn't catch it . He was almost confused whether he should be listening or simply looking at harry.

" what ?" Draco asked still shocked

" come on let's dance " Harry offered Draco his hand and hesitantly Draco took Harry's hands.

" you sure ?" Draco asked forgetting all about how good Harry looked but simply concerned about the way Harry just approached, knowing how it would create a Chaos soon and there would be another article about Harry.

" absolutely" and harry meant it.

When Harry and Draco reached the stage, it was a surprise how easily they had aligned without difficulty and so in a very delicately perfect way with Harry's hands rested upon Draco's waist while Draco's hands were hanging Around Harry's neck.

" it's a nice song isn't it ?" Harry asked slowly swaying to the music while looking at Draco.

" it is " Draco smiled

" how was the conversations with people ?" Draco asked not looking away from his face.

" frankly boring . I had to listen a lot about how little they knew of Ron and Hermione and someone's excitingly boring work trip . Nobody's as interesting as you " Harry shrugged his shoulders.

" oh is it so ?" Draco smirked. Harry tightened his grip around Draco's waist " yeah "

" who's your next dance ?" Draco asked. Harry looked at him intently before making Draco turn his head to the side.

" him" Draco followed Harry's line of sight almost disappointed of knowing the fact that he was on borrowed time until he saw his reflection in the mirror.

" we look good together don't we ?" Harry asked . Draco nodded biting his lower lip " yeah "

" I saved the dances for you. I was asked 5 times tonight for a dance you know " Harry told him looking in Draco's eyes.

" and why is that ?" Draco Whispered softly.

" because I wanted to do this " Harry replied looking at Draco's lips, pulling him closer so that they were almost pressed against one another " may I ?" Harry asked for consent. Only when Draco had given him a yes Harry had kissed Draco. It wasn't a rough or a hard kiss, it was sweet and passionate. It held something that would've said I've waited so long for this but there wasn't any urgency like they had all the time in the world to do it again. Harry's had slowly unconsciously tightening around Draco's back and Draco's hands resting upon Harry's neck. All those years of pining after each other Harry and Draco had finally Poured out everything in that one kiss. All those weeks of waiting to make a move on another only to be left with disappointment, all those times of watching each other from a distance , all those moments of waiting for the right moment had finally paid off.

" you can kiss too potter" Draco said teasingly as they separated from the kiss, pressing their foreheads together.

" I can do a lot of things malfoy. Maybe tonight you could see a few of them" Harry smugly replied but before Draco could've said anything else, Harry had kissed him again. This time with much more passion than before.

" get a room " Blaise yelled from behind them leaving them startled.

" we might zabini " Harry winked at Blaise..

" you want to leave early ?" Harry asked when he turned to Draco still breathless from all the kissing.

" only if I get to touch your hair " Draco smirked

" who do you think I did the braid and hair dye for " Harry asked him mischievously.

Harry realised in all his time with Draco that the world didn't matter anymore, what people thought of him didn't matter anymore as long as he knew the one man he wanted loved him just right. For there can be no love without hate , he settled with the one man he had once hated. Maybe sometimes hatred can turn into love and sometimes not and harry was perfectly fine either way.

Side prompts I've worked on - habits of my heart

Requests open for this

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lupin-for-president · 4 years

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Jeddy Headcanons

First things first, these two have been best friends since the beginning of time, literally attached at the hip for as long as they could remember. They did everything together when they were younger, despite the age gap between them. (After all, seven years really isn’t that much of a separation).

Their relationship was very intimate. (Not in the sexual way, more so the caring for and protecting each other way.)

Teddy always called the brunette Jamie or James Sirius, never just James (unless he was mad at him).

James had a thing for calling Teddy, Ted. (And he called him Edward when he was teasing him or annoyed).

Teddy used to sneak James candy when James was supposed to be taking naps and quickly found out that the spicy cinnamon ones were his favorite.

Teddy was the one who taught James how to fly on his broom. James was only two so he was a little wobbly but Teddy always made sure to fling his body out so that he could be a cushion for James’ fall.

There was a time when James was about four —and Teddy was eleven— that James wouldn’t go to sleep unless Teddy was laying with him in bed and it got so bad that Harry and Ginny ended up having to move Teddy’s bed into James’ room because of it.

James would wake up every time Teddy would try to crawl out of the bed, so eventually Teddy just gave up trying to sleep on his own and slept next to James all night long.

Because of this, when Teddy went to Hogwarts the following year, he found himself unable to sleep correctly for the first two months because he couldn’t seem to fall asleep without James being sprawled out on top of him.

When Teddy was away at school, James became extremely withdrawn from everyone else and didn’t enjoy going on playdates anymore, not even with his favorite cousins.

James would draw Teddy tons of scribbled pictures and send them to him via owl and even sent the occasional howler. Which of course caused Teddy to smile like mad when he heard James’ little excited voice telling him all about his week.

Harry once walked in on Teddy in James’ room, looking over a stack of James’ drawings that was sitting on his little desk in the corner, tears streaming down his pale face. James was tucked away and asleep in his bed, unaware of either of their presence.

When Harry asked him about it later, Teddy responded with, “Jamie stopped sending me his drawings. I just wanted to see some of them again.”

Around the time when James turned seven, he had noticed Teddy started to separate himself from him.

The day that Teddy tried to postpone his and James’ movie night to hang out with some of his friends from school, was the very first time that James had ever yelled at Teddy in the whole seven years that he had been alive.

“You know what? Just forget it! I never want to watch movies with your stupid face ever again!” Seven year old James had screamed before slamming his bedroom door shut right in Teddy’s face.

Teddy immediately cancelled his plans and wouldn’t stop banging on James’ door until he let him back in.

For James’ tenth birthday, all he wanted was to pierce his ear but Ginny and Harry said no because he should “wait until he was at least thirteen before he did something like that.”

Teddy ended up piercing his ear with an old sewing needle in their guest bathroom a week later at about 2 in the morning.

There was so much blood, Teddy nearly passed out. But the piercing actually turned out really good, so the two of them didn’t mind cleaning up the mess.

The next year when James started his first year at Hogwarts —Teddy going into his seventh— he found him and Teddy becoming closer than ever.

Being best friends with Hogwarts’ residential prankster and heartthrob gave poor eleven year old James a lot of unwanted attention. Mostly from girls who wanted to know how to make Teddy fall in love with them.

That question always pissed James off for some reason.

At Teddy’s graduation ceremony, James was the first person he hugged, lifting him up in the air and spinning him around —as if he weighed nothing at all— while James cried heavy tears.

Teddy didn’t have to ask to know that James was crying because he was scared Teddy to leave him behind.

As if Teddy would ever dream of it.

Teddy stayed at home with Harry and Ginny and got a job at a muggle tattoo parlor, saying he just wanted to stick around to “help out.” But Harry and Ginny both knew it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving his family.

James was obsessed with playing with Teddy’s hair and it became like an addiction to Teddy.

Anytime Teddy was tired he would lay a pillow in James’ lap and pick up the boy’s hand to place it in his hair so that he could fall asleep.

Teddy loved painting James’ nails.

When James would be reading, Teddy would sit down beside him or in front of him and just paint his nails because he was bored.

While at his fourth year at Hogwarts, James found himself missing his blue-haired counterpart immensely, and wrote to him nearly every day.

Until writing wasn’t enough.

James would help sneak Teddy into Hogwarts in disguise, the two of them hiding out in empty closets and classrooms until the early hours of the morning when James would have to go to get ready for his lessons.

That was about the time when James had started to come to terms with the sappy little crush he had somehow managed to acquire.

At first he felt foolish and refused to even entertain the idea at all, but soon he found himself falling hopelessly in love with Edward Remus Lupin.

That summer when he came back from school was when Teddy found his love letters.

James ran to the bathroom and threw up whenever he walked in on Teddy perched on the edge of James’ bed. The sight of the old brown shoebox sitting in his lap and slips of pink paper in his hands nearly killed him. James locked himself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out until Teddy left.

They didn’t talk for a while after that.

The day before James would be returning to Hogwarts for his sixth year, the two found themselves alone in their house. (Ginny was off at a quidditch tournament and Harry had taken Albus and Lily to buy school supplies).

Teddy picked the lock on James’ bedroom door and shoved his way in, shutting it back behind him.

“Get out of my room,” James said bluntly.

“No, not until you talk to me, Jamie.”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that,” the brunette snapped, standing up from his bed with tears in his eyes, “I am begging you not to call me that. Please. I can’t take it, I can’t.”

Teddy ignored the request and walked up to James, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Jamie, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Tell you what? That I’m in love with you? It wouldn’t have changed anything!” James cried, his voice cracking.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Teddy pulled James in for a hug, immediately causing the shorter boy to tense up. James couldn’t see it, but as Teddy wrapped his arms tightly around James’ shoulders, he was fighting off tears of his own.

“Just— Wait. Wait a few years please,” Teddy whispered, his fingers gripping the other’s shirt until his knuckles turned white.

James cried even harder at that.

But still, he waited.

He actually waited for two years, five months, and seventeen and a half days to be exact.

It was the day of James’ nineteenth birthday.

Teddy had a long talk with Harry a week prior, explaining to him how he felt. He cried his eyes out the entire time, worried that his godfather was going to tell him how wrong it was for him to be even slightest bit interested in his son.

He was shocked when Harry just laughed, saying that he already knew.

He was even more shocked when Harry offered to help set up a date for the two of them, as a gift.

That’s how James Sirius Potter found himself in the middle of the forest, fairy lights hanging from tree branches and blankets laid across the ground, with Teddy Lupin grinning at him from ear to ear.

“Happy birthday, James Sirius,” Teddy beamed, taking a step towards him.

“When you said you wanted to hang out in the forest, this wasn’t at all what I was expecting,” James answered back, meeting the other man in the middle of the clearing.

“Is it bad?” Teddy squeaked.

This was the first time James had ever seen Teddy flustered, a deep red painting the blue-haired man’s cheeks as he stared down at James, biting on the corner of his lip nervously.

“It’s beautiful, Ted. I can’t believe you did all this for me,” James smiled.

“I wanted it to be perfect for our first,�� Teddy shrugged. “It may sound childish but I wanted it to be special.”

“Our first what?”

Teddy didn’t answer with words, rather by pressing his lips ever so gently against James’. The brunette was caught off guard, shock reaming through his entire body as he mindlessly wrapped his arms around Teddy’s neck.

When Teddy pulled back a few moments later, his face was even more flushed than before. He pressed his forehead against James’, trying to steady his heart.

“Our first everything.”

It was only a year and a half later when the two of them found themselves back in the same clearing, this time at an altar in front of their family and friends.

Teddy was trying to hide the tears streaming down his face as stared at James —who also couldn’t stop from crying— because he wanted to seem tough.

When they said their vows, Teddy kissed James harder than he ever had before, his hands cupping the sides of James’ face.

Anytime they had fights or arguments Teddy would pull the “I’m older so you have to listen to me” card.

It pissed James off that he found it attractive.

James would always cry to get his way.

They end up adopting a little girl and naming her Remmy. Teddy is head over heels for her and overly protective.

James brings Teddy lunch at the tattoo parlor every Tuesday, where Teddy full on embarrasses James by expressing excessive amounts of PDA in front of all his clients.

They might look a little odd, a clean cut looking gentleman standing next to a punk rock lunatic, but they compliment each other very well.

And they’re just hopelessly in love.

This was all over the place, I am so sorry. These are just random thoughts I had about them and I love them so much.

#jeddy fic #jeddy #jeddy headcanon #harry potter next gen fic #harry potter next generation #hp next gen #teddy lupin #james sirius potter #james sirius x teddy #remus lupin #moony #harry potter #ginny potter

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gloves94 · 3 years

Text

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 29

Rating: M Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: None

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

MY MASTER-LIST

The authentic Alastor Moody watched in his night robes. He sat on the floor at the edge of the inside of the wooden chest. The man sat with his arms crossed over his chest. The only thing probably worse than being unwillingly locked inside of a trunk was being locked inside of a trunk with a teenager.

An angry one at that.

He then watched the student run against the wall with a rageful scream and tackle it down with her shoulder. She slid down the wall painfully heaving before rising, stumbling back, and trying again. He guessed her shoulder was probably wounded by now, if not a couple of strikes away from being dislocated.

“Give it up, kid,” He called from his corner. “It’s useless. The only way out is in,” He said pessimistically.

“I’m not giving up!” She grunted with pain. “I’m not giving up. I’m getting out of here-“ She heaved furiously, looking up at the unending darkness above the two. “There has to be another way out…” She said more to herself.

“Who-“ Her dark eyes moved from a nonexistent exit back to the Auror’s. “Who was that? If you’re Moody then, who-?” she was frustrated at her loss of words.

“Barty Crouch Jr.,” Alastor sat up and uncrossed his arms. He would’ve walked if he could, but Crouch had his leg. “Most unpleasant slimeball. Scum of the scum that walks this Earth. Death Eater and loyal to You-Know-Who until the end. Caught me slippin’ in my retirement,” Moody finished his sentence by cursing words Nel hadn’t even heard before. The trunk was pitch black. She couldn’t see just how filthy the man was with unkempt hair and a growing beard from being locked in here so long.

He also couldn’t distinguish the features of the Slytherin.

If he could’ve been immediately able to distinguish just who he was in the room with.

“And what do they want with you?” He asked gruffly.

“The hell should I know. I’m just an orphan.”

If he could’ve seen the constellation in her face in the shape of Ophiuchus, he would’ve immediately known just who was locked inside of the trunk with him.

Harry Potter sat in the office of Professor Alastor Moody, crying. He was alone processing the events of the Third Task of the Tournament.

Cedric was dead.

Voldemort was back.

Nel was missing.

Probably dead too.

He had seen Cedric’s life flash before his eyes. The Dark Lord had touched him. Cursed his blood to be shared between the two. Everything had gone to hell. He pinched the bridge of his nose and remove his glasses to wipe his tears from his swollen eyes.

His head jolted up when Moody’s door slammed behind him as he entered the room. Startled, he looked at the Professor.

In the same room, inside of the chest, the missing student attentively listened to the conversation that Harry and Barty Crouch Jr. were having. It sounded muffled and distant. Words were inaudible beyond recognition, but the voices were clear.

“That sounds…” Nel said, pressing her ear against the wall. “It’s Moody-“ She looked back at the miserable man slumped in the corner. His silhouette was barely recognizable in the darkness. “Well- not you- and that’s- That’s got to be Harry!” She exclaimed.

“HELP!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. “HELP!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. So loud her throat ached.

“It’s useless,” Moody grumbled.

“It’s not,” She croaked, keeping her eyes on the darkness above her. There had to be a way out. Most charmed objects have a way in or out in case their casters become trapped inside of them, but how would she get out without her wand?

“HELP!” She shouted desperately. Feeling the wall, she could feel the leather interior and, burying her nails into it attempted to climb it.

“Even if you do climb it, you’ll never get out. There’s a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and Merlin knows how many more trunks.” The retired Auror explained.

“I don’t care,” She spat, continuing to attempt her climb.

“I’ll claw through the walls if I have to,” She said determinedly.

Climbing two steps up, she lost her grip and collapsed on the floor.

“Told ya,” Moody said snidely.

“I don’t care!” She shouted angrily, removing one of her shoes and tossing it against the wall. “I won’t let them get away with it!” She heaved, holding her other shoe in her hand. “I prefer death to whatever it is they’ll do to us.”

Holding the loafer in her hands, she looked at it intensely and focused. She needed something to climb to the top. She focused all of her energy on the old shoe. Closing her eyes, almost squashing it between her hands, moody looked at her oddly. Without a wand, it was harder to channel magic, but it wasn’t impossible.

A popping sound inside the barrel and an identical copy of the shoe appeared out of thin air.

Then another.

And another.

Followed by several more.

“What did you do?” Moody pressed his back against the wall as he heard the popping sound in the room and the thud the shoes would make when dropping to the ground.

“Uh-,” Nel stepped back, almost tripping over one of the hundreds of shoes on the ground. “I-I think I messed up,” She said, struggling as the shoes reached up to her knees.

“What did you do?!” Moody screamed in horror as he prepared to drown in a sea of multiplying shoes.

“I wanted to turn the shoe into a ladder, but I think I-“ She stumbled, trying to reach for the older man.

“Gemino Curse? You stupid girl!” He clung to her shoulder and hoisted himself up. “We will suffocate!”

Meanwhile outside.

“Harry, get away from there!” Dumbledore said, pushing Harry behind him and the other Hogwarts professors.

Moody and Nel were pressed up against the ceiling, slowly being crushed by the mountains of shoes.

“Out of all things you could multiply- you chose a pair of smelly shoes?” Moody grimaced at the way he was going out. Out of all the ways to die, this was probably the most undignified one.

“I thought I could climb the laced up!”

Just then, a bright light spilled into the inside of the trunk. Dozens of shoes spilled out of it, followed by a brown-haired teenager and the real and the Alastor Moody.

“Ms. Saintday! Alastor! Are you alright?” Dumbledore asked, stepping back.

Professor Snape stepped forward and picked up his student by the upper arm, pushing her behind him. With one quick look, the Slytherin determined she was shaken but otherwise looked unharmed. His glare was scolding, but there was some relief in his brown eyes.

“I’m sorry, Albus,” Mad-Eye lamented, dropping his head. “I’m just glad to be out of that hellish place.”

“Ms. Saintday,” McGonagall rushed to the student and took her face in her hold hands. “Are you alright?” She asked kindly.

Dumbledore kept his eye on Moody. Snape held his wand raised and pointed at the impostor.

The young Slytherin nodded weakly and, looking past the Gryffindor professor, seethed when looking at the disfigured man that was once again morphing into somebody else across the room. Crouch twitched relentlessly, making strange noises as he did. Nel didn’t even hear what Harry said to her when he stood beside her.

The impostor’s eyepiece fell to the wooden floor and continued to twitch in every direction as Barty Crouch Junior revealed himself.

“Seems like we now know who’s been raiding your pantry for Polyjuice potion, Severus,” Dumbledore said.

“Son of a bitch,” Moody coughed. “Caught me off-guard.” The man pressed his back against the chest as he sat on the edge of the room.

Crouch reminded Elowen of a snake. A slithering creature with a darting tongue who hissed when threatened.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” He said, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a skull and snake marking on his arm. The man began cackling. The mark on his arm danced, and its dark pigment shined in the dim light.

“The Dark Mark.”

‘What was that horrible thing?’

Harry flinched, bringing a hand to his forehead at the immediate pain he felt. He didn’t need to have this explained. It was his mark. He felt the same pain he had as when Voldemort had laid his hand on him.

“Your arm Harry,” Dumbledore reached for the Chosen One’s arm. Looking down at her arm. Elowen felt the need to hide it. Crouch had sliced her arm in the same place where he had the mark. She didn’t want to know what type of ill omen this was.

“You know what this means don’t you?” Crouch began. His lip curled into a malicious sneer. “He’s back,” He flipped a hair from his forehead. “Lord Voldemort has returned.”

His words rang loudly, and the air in the room suddenly felt heavy at the horrid revelation. Crouch’s beady eyes focused on the girl’s.

“And he’s come back for what’s rightful his,” he threatened.

Nel flinched, shrinking slightly. Without a second thought, Snape stood between the two, blocking sight of his student. From behind, Moody looked at the girl’s dirty face. He thought he could recognize a peculiar curse mark on her features.

“You took me!” Elowen sidestepped around Snape. “You locked me up!” Boldly or very foolishly, the girl stepped towards the man. Professor McGonagall held her back, failing as the girl slipped from her gentle grip. Harry’s reach and grasp was stronger as he held her back with his hands on her shoulders. “Both you and Ellar Lestrange!” She shook Harry’s grip off. Dumbledore observed the scene. His twinkling eyes were waiting for something unexpected to happen anything. Regardless the Headmaster did not move.

“The two of you assaulted, attacked and… then you,” She grew silent. Unaware of the vile intentions the two men held.

Crouch cackled madly, and the Slytherin felt her anger begin to boil. She wanted to hurt Crouch. She wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her. Tie him to a chair, stand above him and terrify him until he pissed himself. Maybe set him on fire.

The feeling of being powerless. Elowen felt as if she’d hit a wall. She was powerless against him, against the Lestranges, and against Cordelia Wool.

It was humiliating. Harry’s grip loosened around his friend, and he gave her an odd look.

“Lestrange?” McGonagall asked.

“Bastard,” Mad-Eye cough. It didn’t matter which one she was referring to. All the Lestranges were equally rotten in his eyes. Pureblood scum.

“Yes,” Nel answered quickly. “Ellar Lestrange,” She wanted them to know his name. “Former student. He killed Simon Kominsky. He’s been in on the plan with Crouch the whole time.”

Dumbledore didn’t question her this time.

“Send an owl to Azkaban,” He said to McGonagall. “I think they’ll find they’re missing a prisoner or two.”

Instead of looking intimidated, Crouch beamed with pride. “I’ll be welcomed back like a hero.” He grinned, cherishing the moment.

“Pucker up, Barty. Dementors will be thrilled to see you,” Moody called.

Crouch seemed unfazed at Moody’s threat, and this filled Nel with rage. The son of a bitch even though he was above the law and death. Perhaps she didn’t have her magic, but she would always have her muscle.

“Not if I can help it!” She lunched forward, ready to bite, claw and strike Crouch. However, McGonagall pulled her back from the arm, scolding her. “Ms. Saintday!” She said, horrified. “Come along with me, Elowen,” She said to the barefoot teen. “We’ve got to take you to Madame Pomfrey at once,” She said, trying to usher her out of the room.

Crouch laughed loudly. “Ah! Go on, dead girl, strike me,” He cried out.

The Slytherin protested, looking over her shoulder. “I’m fine!” She raised her voice. “Completely and utterly fine!”

“Dead girl?” Moody said to himself, turning. He looked at Dumbledore oddly as the pieces all aligned in his head. Moody instantly knew just what was happening and who this child was. The only thing he couldn’t figure out was just what in the world was Albus planning...

Nel wanted to meet Snape’s eyes, but instead, the Professor lingered behind, stabbing his wand into Crouch’s twisted face. Hatred was reflected on the Slytherin’s eyes as he looked down at the vermin he was threading on. Moody remained behind.

Outside McGonagall wrapped an arm around the student’s shoulders as she led her away. She didn’t take her rudeness personally. The girl was clearly in a state of shock. Minerva was just relieved the situation hadn’t escalated. Losing one student in one day was one thing, but two?

Dumbledore exited the room with Harry. The Gryffindor looked over his shoulder, hoping that his friend would be looking back at him instead, her eyes were glued to the floor, and she walked in small steps as Professor McGonagall guided her to the Hospital Room.

Nel hadn’t thought of how long she had been gone. McGonagall looked overly concerned. Her eyebrows were turned up in worry. The Professor let out a small breath of relief as they made their way downstairs.

“Oh, Elowen. We were all so worried,” She spoke as she picked up her pace. “After what happened to that poor boy, we all thought you…” The Professor went silent.

“Thought what?” Nel asked sharply, looking at her concerned expression. She still couldn’t believe they had allowed this to happen. She had been missing for a day, or who knows how many hours, and nobody had come looking for her. Oh, but Harry. She thought bitterly. Looking back, the only reason they had found her, and Moody was probably because Harry was in a room and in danger. If he hadn’t been there… Only the stars know what would’ve happened. Looking over her shoulder, she realized Harry and Dumbledore were gone.

‘Fuck, if Harry went missing for a minute, the world would probably end.’

“Well,” McGonagall began with discomfort. “We thought you’d been killed dear,” she said gravely.

Elowen had no reaction to this. Yes, Ellar had killed people before. She had gotten really lucky this time. However, Simon hadn’t been that lucky…

“Maybe Simon can find some peace now,” She muttered absentmindedly thinking the older witch had been referring to the ghost in the Quidditch field.

She felt great relief after having confessed about Ellar’s abuse. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. This was grave enough, and she had heard what Dumbledore had said about Azkaban. This time consequences would be severe. There was no way the rat-faced git would be able to lawyer his way out of this one.

The two were walking by the Great Hall, nearing the Hospital room at this point. Who knew what time it was. It was night. The castle was dark except for the few torches that lit the school corridors.

“Nel,” The Professor began slowly, acknowledging her preferred name. She slowed down the pace to a halt. The Slytherin looked at her with confusion. She had never seen the Professor look so hesitant before speaking. Minerva measured her words with scrutiny and care. “There has been an accident,” She wanted to say. However, Cedric Diggory’s death had been no accident. McGonagall didn’t think the two had a relationship. Still, these things had to be handled carefully.

She placed a soft touch on the girl’s shoulder before delivering the hard news. “Cedric Diggory has passed,” she spoke in a gentle tone.

Nel’s dark eyes narrowed with further confusion. She then let out a small laugh. “Passed what?” She asked, perplexed, eyes lighting with excitement. She had even forgotten about the Triwizard Tournament. “Did he pass the final task? Did he win the Tournament?”

Or did Harry win? He hadn’t looked very elated when she saw him only a few moments ago. What had he even been doing in Moody’s office?

“No.” This time Professor McGonagall reached for both of her hands. She held them in hers and patted one lightly, “Dear, Cedric is dead.”

Nel was in denial. The news didn’t sink. Maybe she didn’t want them to. She pretended not to see the defeated look on McGonagall’s eyes or the somber edge to her voice. “Yeah, dead tired, I bet,” She smiled a little, hoping the Professor would return the gesture.

She didn’t.

Instead, the Professor continued. Nel’s face began breaking, her chin quivering, nostrils beginning to flare. Her stomach dropped, and she suddenly felt cold.

It wasn’t true.

It couldn’t be true.

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

It was the last day of school.

Startled, twitching awake, Nel sat up, her vision still blurry as everything that happened the previous day came rushing back to her.

“You’re awake,” She ignored the voice.

She was in the hospital room. She could still remember the conversation she had had with Professor McGonagall just a few hours ago. Fragments and pieces of memories from the night before in which the Professor consoled her about Cedric’s death. Nel cried until the point where she couldn’t speak anymore, and Madame Pomfrey gave her a sleeping draught.

She let out a whimper and brought both of her hands up to bury her face into. Her eyes felt crusty. They were swollen and dry, and her nostrils were scratchy.

“I’m sorry,” The voice spoke again. Lowering her hands after a moment, she turned to face Harry, who was sitting at the foot of her bed in the Hospital Room. His head was lowered, tone was low with sorrow.

The Slytherin climbed on her knees and hugged them, shrinking to the opposite side of the bed. She noticed she had been changed into a pair of her old striped pajamas. They were worn and old, with tattered holes on the sleeves. Not that any of that mattered at the moment.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” She let out a dry sob.

Professor McGonagall had explained to her what had happened in the Third Task of the Tournament. She had also explained that Harry had been the only witness to the crime. “I can’t believe-“ Her voice faded again, breaking into a high pitch.

“Please tell me he didn’t suffer Harry,” She looked at her hands. Harry looked at her heartbroken expression. “Please!” She cried out to him.

“He didn’t,” Harry was quick to answer. It was almost rehearsed. It was something he couldn’t possibly know. No matter how many people asked him, Harry wouldn’t go into detail. He wouldn’t talk about Voldemort or about what had transpired in the graveyard. Even the room looked darker, grayer with the foul weather of the day.

“Is there…” Nel cleared her raspy throat. “Do you know if there’s a spell to bring people back from the dead?”

As far as Harry knew, there wasn’t. It was one of the first rules of magic. Once you’re dead, well, you’re dead. Unless you become a ghost. He never had entirely understood how that worked. Then again, he reasoned not many wizards did either. “Not that I know of,” he answered, sniffling and wiping the tip of his nose. If he did, bet his parents would be with him today.

Both shared a long silence. Harry in mourning. Nel wondering if she could contact the dead with a Ouija Board.

“He spoke of you,” Harry said, breaking the silence.

“What?” She froze, stopping her dead crying.

“He said he was expecting his most loyal servant to deliver you to him,” Harry wanted to say. “I think something went wrong with their plan,” he reasoned, alluding to Crouch and Lestrange’s plan. ‘Oh, he meant Voldemort. Not Cedric.’

“Ellar was trying to get me to follow him into the maze,” Nel sighed. The worst part was that if he had played his cards right. If he had dedicated himself to wooing her and keeping her tightly wrapped around her finger from the beginning, she would’ve followed him to the ends of the world. She hated herself for that.

“That’s where the portkey was,” Harry explained. “The one that took us to the graveyard.”

Everything was making sense now. That’s what the Lestrange’s had been planning all year long. However, the question still lingered. Why would the Lord of Death care for a nobody like Nel?

However, there was one person who knew the answer and would tell.

“Harry, I need to see him,” She squeaked, leaning forward. Reaching out to him and holding on to his sleeve tightly. Up this close, she could some of the wounds from the previous day.

“Who?” Harry asked, confused.

“Sirius,” She clarified. Nel had a feeling Snape knew more than he was letting on, but for some reason, the old bat was withholding information from her, and there was no way he was cracking any time soon. “Please,” She pleaded with Harry. She could’ve begged him to let her see and or speak to Sirius Black.

Harry could see the desperation in her eyes.

“I’ve been trying not to think about it, but I can’t stop thinking about it,” her voice broke as her eyes began to water once again. “I need to know why that man wants me. I need to know who I am,” She let out a shaky breath. “I need to know what they did to me. Why they did it. Why?” Her grip tightened.

Harry was supposed to deny the whereabouts or even the fact he had any communication with his godfather. “I’ll see what I can do,” he agreed.

She didn’t hesitate in lunging her arms around him, holding him in a thankful embrace. She buried her face on his shoulder. As per usual, Harry couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the gesture.

Unknowing to the two, a pair of silver eyes watched bitterly from the Hospital Wing entrance. The Slytherin’s hands balled into fists at what he considered to be the horrifying scene he was witnessing. Of course, it had to be Potter.

Nel’s eyes turned to Draco, who remained composed despite his wild jealousy churning and internally nagging at him.

However, his composure was short-lived.

“You’re a dead man, Potter!” Draco stormed in, whipping his wand out.

Harry raised his in defense. Nel pulled away from Harry unbothered. Malfoy was the least of her problems right now. Harry cleared his throat, his face a little red at the girl’s gesture.

“Malfoy!” Nel exclaimed, shooting deathly daggers at the boy. She spoke to him the way you would speak to a dog when you want him to behave.

Draco was angry. Of course, Potter gets to show off and win the Tournament, Potter catches Barty Crouch Jr. in the act and has him sent to Azkaban, and then he makes a move on his girl?

It wasn’t going to happen. Not on his watch.

Harry then remembered he had seen Mr. Malfoy at the graveyard. Groveling as one of Voldemort’s most loyal servants. He couldn’t stand the sight of Malfoy. Who knew just how much Draco knew about the incident. “I have to go,” Harry said and shot a menacing look in Malfoy’s direction. Harry’s green eyes had turned into slits. That slimy weasel and his cowardly father, both would be troublesome. Draco was involved in all of this. Harry had to be careful with whatever he trusted Elowen with, considering how close the two Slytherins were. Did she know his family was on Voldemort’s side?

“You better watch it, Malfoy,” Harry spat. It was a threat. This time Harry didn’t stand back awkwardly. He seethed in newfound anger, not removing his eyes from Draco’s silver ones.

“What is your problem, Draco?” She confronted angrily once Harry left.

This was the last thing she needed at the moment. Another useless fight. It was a waste of time.

Harry looked back at his friend, and she nodded that it was okay to leave, so he left, but not before shooting Draco one last glare. Nel looked in between the two, confused. Had she missed something?

Harry looked back to see Malfoy walking stiffly to stand beside the girl’s hospital bed.

He was dressed in a black suit and straight black pants. Neatly groomed. His cologne announced his arrival before his presence. It looked more like he was going to a business meeting than to visit a friend at the hospital.

Draco was silent. He was still angry. He gave her a stern look and couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth and speak to her.

He wasn’t the person she wanted to see right now. Especially not after the tantrum he had just thrown. The only thing she cared about was seeing Sirius Black, talking to him, getting to the bottom of this horrible nightmare, and maybe finding a way to see Cedric again.

Draco remained quiet. Little did Nel know about the raging storm that was happening in his head and about everything he had done for her before coming here.

Trying to control her emotions, she wiped her face, took a deep breath, and brushed all of her brown hair out of her swollen face with her fingers.

“Came to mooch off my gifts?” She offered sarcastically, barely looking back at the little flowers and candies next to her bed.

He didn’t say a word.

This was uncharacteristic of him. You usually hated Malfoy for opening his mouth, not for remaining so oddly silent. “You can have some if you like,” She motioned towards them, hoping he would crack. Had he just come here to stare at her? He almost looked sick. What was his problem? Why was he acting so weird?

“Not the lemon pastries, but anything else really. I mean, I’m not going to eat-“ She babbled nervously at his loud silence not bearing his quietness. Anxiety got the best of her as she toyed with the bedsheets, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. She was in her most disgusting pajamas. Draco slept in fresh silk while she slept in something even a moth wouldn’t chew on. It was something that made her feel ashamed and embarrassed.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, and the silence in the room felt more remarkable after he spoke. The fact the two were alone in the suffocating room with the palpable tension was painful.

She really wished he had given her some sort of warning before opening his mouth.

“I fancy you,” he admitted boldly.

His hands inside his pockets. Eyes steady as he kept his fixed gaze on her shocked one. She remained silent at his confession. Her expression was unreadable.

Now it was her turn to grow silent.

She lowered her head in embarrassment and continued to anxiously fidget with the sheets on the bed, suddenly wanting to hide under them and vanish. In a cleverer state, she would’ve pretended to faint just to avoid the awkwardness that was to follow.

God, this was so awkward, so painful. She flashbacked to what Daphne had suggested. She had been right. She flashbacked to the Yule Ball to all of the years of torture she had endured just so that he could have her attention. She also thought about those rare moments the two shared together. Draco could be nice, he could be a friend, he was sort of handsome, but then again- She looked at the childish way he had just stormed in and threatened Harry. The way he could be so demanding and selfish was a turn off. Besides, it would never work out between the two. His parents would never approve of her or her socioeconomic status. Even less when they were most likely planning on delivering her to the Dark Lord like Ellar had been.

“As in, I like you.” He elaborated on his emotion. “As more than friends.”

What if this is what it was all about?

Since Ellar had failed in his task of delivering her to Lord Voldemort, it had fallen on Draco to do so. Could that be it?

But how did she feel about him? She turned away from him, her dry eyes beginning to sting. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Draco was in turmoil. Malfoy Sr. Had always taught his son ‘Nobody says no to a Malfoy,’ and if someone did, he had insisted never to take no for an answer. Here, Draco had a feeling he had met somebody that would say no to a Malfoy.

“I don’t like you” she avoided his stung expression.

Despite her rejection, he remained standing tall, unwavering. Either he didn’t believe her, or as he had been taught, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“So,” he began appearing calm. “What are we going to do about it?” He attempted to negotiate.

“We?” She looked at him in horrific surprise. In his head they were already together. We, as in collective, as in us. As in Us vs. Them. A fat tear slid down her face. Why was he saying this to her? Was he toying with her?

Perhaps, Ellar was right, and he really was just playing with her. Draco’s family was well known for fraternizing with You-Know-Who, and after what had happened with that psychopath— what if he was just the same? Could she really trust him?

What if all of this time, he had also been trying to manipulate her. Open wounds from Ellar’s emotional abuse suddenly stung as fear made her act out aggressively.

“There is no we, there is no us. You have tortured me for the last four almost five years, and you expect me to fancy you-“ She spat at him livid before letting out a rueful laugh. Nel didn’t know what came over her - perhaps it had been all of these years of pent-up rage. Maybe it was the fear, stress, and loss of the last twenty-four hours.

“How- “ She demanded to know where his emotions stemmed from, “Why?”

Why on Earth would somebody like him look at someone like her?

He had so much to lose with this attraction – she, on the other hand, had nothing.

Malfoy visibly flinched at the harshness of her tone. His hostile walls slowly beginning to build up once again.

“You know why,” he said quietly, almost with remorse.

“No. I can’t for the life of me figure that one out.”

She couldn’t trust him.

“I know you. I see you,” he insisted.

“No, you don’t,” She retorted, eyes welling with angry tears for what seemed to be like the hundred time in the day. If there was one thing Malfoy was good at was making her cry. He seemed to be an expert at it, not even struggling to manage to drain canals of tears from her sorrowful eyes.

Malfoy started to become just as frustrated. Leaning forward, he grabbed both of her arms, and she inched backward, away from him; instead, he pulled her towards him and held her tightly, dropping his body on the bed sitting next to her.

“I know you better than anybody else. Don’t deny it. I’ve seen parts of you they haven’t seen. The good, the bad, and especially the ugly,” He said, shooting her a look. She avoided meeting his eyes. Nel knew that if she looked at him, she would cave, and she can’t. She refuses to.

Reaching for her face, he turned her hoping she’d look at him, but her gaze remained lowered. Nel looked hurt, wounded, with tears welled in her glassy eyes.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her face.

“I can’t trust you,” She admitted weakly in an icy tone that made her own heart twist. She wanted to trust him, but couldn’t find herself willing to do it.

Despite everything, he had been told and taught. Draco accepted the rejection. He let go of her and leaned back, sitting at the edge of the bed at the foot with wounded pride.

He didn’t even move when he heard the loud screaming and rushed footsteps entering the hospital wing.

“Nel!” It was Tracey and Daphne both didn’t seem to care that Draco was there. Both were too concerned with their friend to acknowledge that she did not look pleased to see them. The two Slytherins were crying. The tension between the blonde and the brunette could be cut and sliced with a dull knife.

The girls immediately tackled their friend into a hug, one from each side, cradling her body and stroking her hair.

“We’re so glad’ you’re okay!”

“God, we were worried sick!”

Draco inconspicuously stood up and lingered by the end of the bed. He scratched the tip of his nose. Still taking in her rejection before walking away without a word of goodbye.

“Merlin. After what happened to Cedric- we didn’t know if you- if you!” Tracey’s voice broke as she hugged her best friend tightly, burying her tears into her shoulder.

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Daphne said, genuinely sounding relieved.

Tracey and Daphne pulled away and exchanged eye contact. Both wondered why their friend remained silent. Still shocked by Malfoy’s confession.

“We’re also really sorry for what we did,” Tracey was the first to apologize.

“For what I did,” Daphne stressed. “I shouldn’t have told. I’m really sorry. We really are knob heads.” Daphne bombarded as she profusely apologized. “I’m just glad the Lestranges are all going to be locked away in Azkaban now.”

Boom. Another bomb dropped.

“What?” She didn’t realize her voice was so dry. It cracked when she opened her mouth, crying out like a rusty squeezebox.

“After everything he did to you and Crouch’s confession, the Ministry, the Ministry of Magic, is investigated and trying Ellar Lestrange for the possible murder of Sulk- of Simon—- they took him to Azkaban that same day where he waits for trial,” Daphne explained. “And his mother-“ Tracey arched her eyebrows.

“There was an anonymous tip to the Ministry of Dark Artifacts found in the Lestrange household and of her unwavering support to You-Know-Who. Their home was raided some time ago. Since the Ministry is on edge because of what happened yesterday, and his mother was taken to Azkaban. There she also waits for trial.”

Nel was paralyzed by the news. Her eyes looked in between her friends and focused on Malfoy’s back as he walked out of the room.

It had been him.

She had no evidence. No way of proving it, but she knew he had done this.

Draco exited out of it the room.

Daphne looked back at him. “Didn’t - didn’t Draco mention it?” She asked, just as confused, also turning to look at his retreating back.

“He was so worried,” Tracey added. “I don’t think I had ever seen him like that,” Daphne admitted. “He even went as far as getting his father involved. Hogwarts almost shut down!” Tracey exclaimed.

“I don’t think I saw him eat either,” Daphne said. “Theodore said he didn’t return to the dormitory last night.”

“Hogwarts would’ve probably shut down if we hadn’t found you. One student in the Tournament - well, there are risks involved, but another taken and disappeared?” She reasoned.

Draco had done all that? She couldn’t believe it. “Even gave us quite a mouthful-“

Nel had stopped listening at this point. He even tried to fix things between her and her friends? It was then that she remembered. Yesterday at the Quidditch arena. That’s exactly what he had been doing. He did everything he promised he would do. He got rid of Cloelia, he took care of Lestrange, he even mended her friendship with the other Slytherins. Maybe he really did care about her.

Both Tracey and Daphne looked confused as the barefoot girl leaped out of her bed and ran outside of the hospital room. She was so focused on finding the blond she didn’t even acknowledge Theodore who was walking in holding a bouquet of flowers. Several gasps could be heard as she crossed the school. Whispering too. It was the girl that had been taking. The girl that could talk to snakes. Slytherin’s heir. The girl that did school favor’s for pay. She probably looked ridiculous running around the school in her pajamas. She was heaving by the time she turned down the corridor and spotted him in the distance headed towards the Slytherin Common Room. She saw his blonde head descend down the stairs. Without warning with remorseful tears, she ran towards him, her feet patting against the floor before she threw her arms and embraced him from behind.

He remained still, unmoving, and could feel her face burrow into his back. She held him tightly, tighter than she had probably ever held anyone in her life, as she cried. Her hands squeezed his torso tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized. Her voice sounded weak, almost like a squeak.

She took in his scent, the way his jacket felt, the way he stood so stiffly.

His hand reached for hers and curled around her fingers. Despite it, he did not turn for her. She held his hand back, and their fingers intertwined.

“I know.”

She hadn’t even considered his feelings. After everything, he had done for her.

Maybe she could trust him. Maybe they could make things work. Maybe she liked the way he smelled. Maybe she thought he was more than sort of handsome. Maybe she liked spending time with him. Maybe she genuinely liked him when he wasn’t being a royal prick.

Maybe, just maybe she could fancy the Slytherin back as much as he fancied her.

“Draco,” She said his name.

Letting go of him, he turned around still standing in the stairs with an intrigued expression and looked at her. He hadn’t let go of her hand. She had been more than clear with her rejection. Draco was close to snapping and harshly demanding if she had returned to further humiliate him. However, the dazed look on her face told him otherwise. Stepping up a stair, grabbing the lapel of his black suit jacket, she pulled him in and kissed him.

END of YEAR 4

AN: Woooooo this year was so long. I can’t believe we are through The Goblet of Fire. Funfact this was actually the first scene I imagined.

Thank you so much for everybody that takes the time to message me. It means a lot. I’m glad you’re enjoying the story. I know it’s a very – erm – different story than the others. I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned it before, but I always found it very interesting how Harry, despite all of his abuse and suffering, always chose kindness. I wanted to play with a character that did the opposite and was the antithesis of that.

Thank you, Happy Valentine’s Day <3 Much Love, - G

Any predictions or theories for Year 5? ;)

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beetlegoose01 · 3 years

Text

stolen whispers: chapter 1

AN: this fic isn’t a request, it’s a story i’ve been preparing for a lil while and I’m so excited to share this with you all <3

I’ll link it on my Archive if you prefer to read it there. Also warning, there’s quite a few OCs.

Time: 2028 (Scorbus have been married for two years)

Summary: When a new generation of Death Eaters kidnap Scorpius, Albus and Rose put aside their differences to rescue him.

TW: Kidnapping/Language/minor violence

~~~~

Two witches wearing shadowy black robes entered the tavern, finding a table near the back. They ordered their mead, waiting for their third partner impatiently. It was a crowded area, so thankfully there was a small chance they would be overheard.

"We don't want more mead." The first woman growled, tapping her long nails at the table. The bartender, a tall man with a mustache put the drinks down.

"I didn't think so." He lips curled into a grin as he morphed into a younger man with wild dusty brown hair, wearing matching robes. He was handsome, but had an eerie presence to him. Any reasonable person would have at least flinched at the transformation, though neither witch did. "Hello ladies." He grinned cheekily.

"Soren, enough playing games." The second woman said, though she was smirking.

Soren barked out a laugh. "It was funny, Mara. And you know it."

The first woman, Lilith narrowed her eyes. She pulled down her hood, revealing cascading inky black hair down her shoulders. A scar that showed no sign of mending was down her cheek. "Your skills are impressive, but useless if you don't use them for our own gain. Don't forget that." She pulled her hood back.

"Understood." He murmured, taking a seat.

"We have much to discuss," She continued, flicking her wand idly. "Our current plan in action. Our...act of revenge. It's been thirty years since The Tenebris was wrongfully killed. I am sick and tired of his name being tossed around in history like he was some monster. He was on the right side."

"Are you certain we want to call the Dark Lord that?" Mara asked suspiciously.

"Shh! You know if anyone hears us, they'll lock us up for good. For speaking our minds." Lilith said. "It's safer we call him by his code name."

Her companions nodded.

"Because of his loss, we have mudbloods in positions of power. Our siblings that fought for his cause are locked up. Or worse, dead."

Mara and Soren looked grim.

"If we had more allies, perhaps we would have had a chance." Soren noted. "We weren't even alive then but...I have a feeling if we were..."

"Just because we weren't alive then, doesn't mean we don't have opinions over the lives stolen!" Mara argued. "That damn Harry Potter."

"Correct. And Soren is right too. For once. If we had more allies, or better yet...certain allies didn't betray us. The Malfoys for instance." She took a sip of her drink.

"Are you suggesting something?" Mara asked.

"Of course I am, don't be so daft." Lilian said, deadly calm. "I want to make that family suffer for what they did. My uncle Vincent Crabbe died for their selfishness. Draco Malfoy had a chance to save him, and he refused like the coward he is. His mother Narcissa lied to Tenebris' face. They are backstabbing filth that besmirched the Sacred 28. No, it isn't just about their betrayal or avenging those we lost in the war. Think of the big picture. They have the capabilities to join our side. To...respawn a new generation of Death Eaters. But that's not all...

"The Malfoys have lots of gold." She drawled. "Surely, they'll spare a few for us in exchange for something important. Or rather...someone."

"Someone?" Soren paused. "What are you suggesting?"

"Regretfully, Astoria Malfoy has passed on." Mara didn't sound the least bit sympathetic, instead stated it blandly. "So using her as a ransom for Draco is a no go."

"Ah, but there is still someone left." Lillian said, removing a small photograph from her cloak, she slid it across the table.

A young man with platinum hair was pictured, beaming brightly in Healer Robes.

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Soren and Mara exchanged a look of satisfaction.

"Bring him to me."

~~~~~~~~~~

The best thing about mornings, at least to Albus, was waking up beside his husband. The sun's bright rays peaked through the window of their cream colored bedroom, slowly stirring them both awake. If it was up to him, he would stay in their warm bed, arms wrapped around Scorpius until noon.

Scorpius rolled over, so that they were facing each other. His eyes fluttered open, and Albus felt his heart melt at his sapphire eyes.

"Hi." He yawned. His voice was slightly croaky, no doubt from the morning.

Albus replied by nuzzling his nose, then kissed his cheek. "Hi honey."

Scorpius laughed lightly. "Let's get up then. Start the day? It's a Saturday. We have the whole weekend to spend together."

"I'd rather spend it here with you."

Bathilda mewed from the kitchen.

"But our child is hungry." Scorpius teased, stretching as he slid out of bed. Albus begrudgingly slumped after him, not eager to wake up before ten am. But his own stomach was growling too.

"Speaking of children," Albus said, starting to work on their breakfast as Scorpius poured Bathilda's food. "Iris is pregnant again. James told me through a Howler yesterday."

"Really?" Scorpius' eyes widened. "That's great news!"

"Yeah, not for my ears." He commented dryly, still traumatized by James' excited screeching in his ear. "Baby number three." He whistled. "Do you think they're trying to make an entire quidditch team? With Teddy and Vic's lot included, they're on their way."

Though he was joking, Scorpius noticed that Albus was glowing, happy for his brother and sister in law. That was one of the many reasons he loved Albus. His love for his siblings.

"Perhaps. When are they due?"

"September. Which means...that's where they scurried off to last Christmas party." Albus quipped. "To have a little fun."

"Albus!" Scorpius scolded. "Honestly, only you would make a beautiful moment gross."

"It's life, Scorp!" He chuckled. "You're a Healer, you should know these things."

"We'll have to visit. Maybe bring a gift basket to congratulate them." He mused, smiling fondly. "I can't wait to meet our new niece or nephew." There was a wistful look in his eye that Albus caught.

"You've got that look on your face." He noted, amused. He served the plates of bacon sandwiches on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"That Scorpius 'I want something but I'm not going to spell it out for you' face."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." Albus said, forest green eyes brightening in amusement. "What's up?" He took a seat, tucking into breakfast.

"Well," Scorpius started, staring at his food. "I was thinking..." He stopped himself, hesitant to continue his train of thoughts.

"Yeah?" Albus nudged him gently.

"I want a child." He said, his voice quiet, but firm. "I love my nieces and nephews so much, but they aren't...ours. I want to start a family with you, Albus. Raise a little one of our own to be bright and wonderful and brave and..."

Albus' expression softened. "I do too. You know I do, Scorpius. It's just...difficult right now." He stared at his wedding band. "You know it's harder for us than any hetero couple." He waved his hand vaguely. "Adoption is hard, surrogacy is expensive. Maybe once we settled into our careers more, we can talk about it."

"I think we're ready to go beyond just talking about it, Al."

"We're still young. We've still got time. But...I definitely want to work it out. Somehow, we will. We always do."

Scorpius beamed, reaching to kiss Albus' knuckle. "Thank you." He sat up abruptly. "Oh, I almost forgot- it's the farmer's market today."

Albus snorted. "You're exactly like your dad, you know?"

"Yes yes yes, but we should go!" Scorpius said, levitating the plates to the sink and it automatically was clean due to the floating sponges.

"We? I've got some work to do. I'm not very fond of small talk with old people selling fruit."

"Al, it's really good fruit." Scorpius said seriously. "And it's not all old people. I've seen some of our old schoolmates there."

Albus cringed. "That's even worse."

"Don't be so dramatic. Are you still coming?"

"Mm, but I should really finish this article. Go on without me."

"If you're sure...do you want me to bring anything back?"

Albus thought for a moment. "Those strawberries Ms. Beaker sells. Please? Strawberries and cream sounds so good right now."

"Brilliant, I'm on it." Scorpius did a mock salute.

"Have fun." Al waved as Scorpius appatered, leaving the kitchen empty. Albus went straight to work on his article.

~•~

The market was lively and merry, despite the early hour. Scorpius had stopped by the strawberry stand first, in case he forgot.

Ever since they had moved two years ago, Scorpius had found himself drawn to the quaint farmer's market. Not because of the delicious, fresh food, but to socialize. He made quite a few friends with the muggles who lived around there...mostly old ladies. The early days of their marriage, Albus would join him. Before life got in the way, and work had to be done.

Not that he wasn't busy himself. He only had two days off as a Healer, sometimes less. He didn't know how they would manage childcare, but like Al had said, it was best not to dwell on the future.

"Scorpius? Is that you?"

He turned around, following the voice from behind him. "Polly ...Chapman?" He uttered blandly, praying he wasn't mistaken. He didn't have the best memory- even with old schoolmates who bullied him.

"Yep." Polly said, laughing lightly. "It's me. Been a while."

"It has." Scorpius shifted his weight. "How are things?"

"Great!" She smiled, swishing her blonde ponytail, the same air of confidence from when she was a teenager. "Yann and I are engaged."

"Oh! That's wonderful." Scorpius said, pretending to sound pleased. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you. I proposed to them last month. It was just as I had dreamed."

"How is...Yann?" Scorpius did not actually care how Yann was.

"They're good! Brilliant actually, since they passed Auror training." Polly looked genuinely proud of them, which he had to admit was adorable. "Are you and Albus still..."

"Yes, yes. We um, er- we've been married almost two years actually." He added.

"Aw, that's very sweet. You two were always very close, yeah?" Polly looked at him, and Scorpius nearly walked backwards, intimidated by her stance. She still was extremely scary, like a lioness but with a great sense of fashion. "I know...Yann, Karl and I weren't the best to you two but perhaps we could..." She trailed off. "I'd like you both to come. To the wedding. If you'd like."

That...wasn't what he was expecting. He half expected her to invite him to another Blood Ball.

"Pardon?" Scorpius asked, dumbfounded. "I mean- yeah, that sounds great! Fun! Yes. That sounds nice. I'll bring it up to Al."

Polly was glowing. "Brill! I've got to go, but we should all hang out sometime. Like old times."

Like old times? Scorpius thought. When did they ever hang out?

Nodding mutely, he walked away from Polly with a puzzled, but cheerful expression. He hadn't completely fucked up the conversation, which was always a plus. It still felt odd that Polly Chapman of all people was talking to him, let alone inviting him to her wedding. It was bizarre.

He passed the final vendor, and was surprised and amused to see a tiny girl, no more than seven standing behind it. She had a Brownie uniform on, bright rosy cheeks and pigtails included.

"Would you like a biscuit?" She squealed.

It had taken him a moment to respond, he was still thinking of Polly being kind to him "Oh erm- of course." It was impossible to say no to an adorable small child. He reached for some muggle money, handing her the pound notes. "Just the one box please."

"Okie dokie!" She said, handing him the box. She waited a moment, pouting. "Go on, try it." She urged.

"I really shouldn't I-"

"Please?" The little girl gave him the most pitiful expression. "It's for a good cause, mister. We're helping orphaned puppies find homes."

"Well, alright. For the puppies." He fumbled open the box, taking a polite bite out of the cookie. It was a classic lemon cookie with powdered sugar, one of his favorites. But the second he swallowed, he felt dizzy all of a sudden. "What..." He stumbled back. "Oh my," He gulped, the entire market swirling around him. Something wasn’t right. "is there something in..."

He would be damned if he let this happen without some sort of fight. Throwing his basket aside, he collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness.

"We've got him."

#Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy #Albus Severus Potter #Char Fanfics #Scorbus #Married Scorbus #LOTS of OCs #James Sirius Potter #Polly Chapman #Yann Fredericks #Scorpius Malfoy #Albus Potter #Fanfic #Writing #Kidnapping

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righteoussoldier · 4 years

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HURT

INFORMATION: Character: Alastor Moody Faceclaim: Joe Manganiello World: Harry Potter Verse: Marauders Era Trigger Warnings: Smut, Death, War Author’s Notes: A song prompt/oneshot written for an old RP.

___________________________________________________

I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting

Flashes of light rushed past Moody’s head as his agile body twisted to deflect the blast. The rush around him, the commotion of others entirely overwhelming. Throwing up defensive spells and flinging out counter curses were second nature to him now, and not just because of his work in the ministry. Ever since he and Albus had started the Order of the Pheonix, the world became a hell of a lot more gruesome.

Working the Order’s missions took him deeper into the rebellion than he’d ever thought he’d go. When the red tape is lifted and all bets were off, you saw the ugly side of evil front and center. Images of pain and turmoil, of injured women and children, of Death Eater’s wretched actions burned into your brain so profoundly and your own actions to protect the muggles and civilians so horrible, there was no way to ever cleanse your soul. No hope for retribution.

When the firefight was done, the enemy having retreated from a lone Auror who dared face off against them- there was nothing left but the smoke and ashes. The landscape before him utterly barren, except for one shape. Laying haphazard across the ground, casting shadows against the light of the moon. With a rush, Alastor sunk to his knees beside the body, taking a moment to steel himself away before rolling it over….

Try to kill it all away, but I remember everything What have I become, my sweetest friend Everyone I know goes away, in the end

Lifeless eyes met his own, the white haze that arrived only when death had turned a body cold clouded what was once such a brilliant blue. A sob choked out of him, pain filling his chest and blinding him to his surroundings. To anything other than the young man who lay dead beside him. Moody had failed his mission, failed to protect the innocent muggle-born wizard who had been captured.

Blood streaked his pale face, the skin brutalized to a level that made him almost unrecognizable. He’d been tasked to find him, to save him….and instead, he’d failed. The Death Eater’s doing more to his body than what was required of standard Rebellion Questioning. More than spells had been used, his fingernails missing, cuts and bruises distorting his features, ugly words etched into him marring skin…The choking intensified until it became a scream, echoing through the night, deafening to his own ears.

Clinging the boy’s body to himself so tightly, Alastor could no longer feel a thing. So numb to his own pain, he didn’t hear the crack that rang out against the void around him. He didn’t see Kingsley take the boy from his arms and disappear, didn’t feel Minerva’s dainty figure as she wrapped him in a soft embrace. Not until the world shifted in a blur and his eyes opened to his safe house. The one separate from the Order’s Head Quarters, the one few knew about at all…

And you could have it all, my empire of dirt I will let you down, I will make you hurt I wear this crown of thorns upon my liar’s chair

When the fog thick in his mind lifted, and he realized who had brought him home, his heart threatened to break all over again. He couldn’t let her see him like this, he tried to walk away, to run and hide like the coward he had become. A man didn’t break in front of another, especially not in front of her. Pain tore through him, cut deep into his soul as he stumbled backward, only for Minerva to follow him, to hold him in place. Trapping him on the spot, stuck between how he felt and how he should act.

“There are no walls here, Alastor.” Her voice was grave, heavy with the weight of the war, of what they’d seen. Closing his eyes, he tried to will it all away, to change the course of events that brought them to this moment. “How did you find me?” He finally asked. His voice so unlike his own. Ruined, not broken. “I will always find you.” The words a promise, a vow…and he didn’t doubt them, but that scared him even more…

“I can’t do this anymore”

And by this, he meant so much more than the fight against the Dark Lord. He couldn’t do this, with her, he couldn’t love her. He could lose her. The way she looked at him, with warriors eyes along with the gravity of their situation weighing so hard on him, he feared he may fall and never get back up again. “I know” she replied, and the Auror knew that she understood all of it. Understood why he’d never committed himself to her in the way a couple should. Because Minerva felt the same, and that’s why they worked. “I will not love you either, Alastor.” Her reply to his unspoken thoughts solidified their link further…the truth was, they were both lying- it was too late.

Full of broken thoughts, I cannot repair Beneath the stains of time, the feelings disappear You are someone else, I am still right here

Without another word, like she knew what he needed like she always did, her hands tugged his face down to her level. Soft lips pressed against him in a hard surge, as if she was giving him permission to let go, to release the pain and take it out of her willing body. Alastor wasted no time, he clicked his fingers and her robes had vanished, leaving behind the supply body of his greatest love. His own, too… and suddenly, primal need took over. His primary instinct was to bury himself in what she was offering him…and god help him, he would.

When their bodies met once more, it was with intense force. His large hands slid down her sides and locked on her thighs, picking her up and cradling that petite form against his chest. Minerva’s legs wrapped around his torso, heels digging into his lower back as he surged forward, not stopping until her back hit the wall and hard. His cock was already hard, immediately awoken by her courage and it was the work of a moment for him to find home; deep inside her.

Her screams replaced the sound that still rang in his ears, a different kind of white noise as his hips thrust against her own. Fucking her with a kind of raw desire that no woman had ever been able to elicit from him before. Fingers locked tight in his hair as she begged him to move harder, faster, deeper…and he so willingly obliged. Her sex tight around him as he moved.

If I could start again, a million miles away I would keep myself, I would find a way

When they orgasmed, it was together. The kind that rocked the ship, that made them blind to the world afterward. Their skin slick from the exertion, breathing ragged as he gazed at her, still deep inside. The connection was what he needed the most, she was what grounded him to this earth, what kept him alive on the harshest of nights. He needed her in the way fire needed oxygen to stabilize and gain ground.

“Stay…” she whispered, almost pleading as she bit her lower lip. Her hair was a mess, cheeks flushed pink from their efforts and in that moment, he loved her even more. He was still hard inside her and with legs still wrapped around him, Alastor moved from the wall leaving behind a crack on its surface…not stopping until legs hit the bed and he collapsed on top of it, on top of her, before he began to move once more. Hips rocking between her own, taking the wild beauty with long and slow strokes. A deeper desire to pour his h e a r t into her, rather than the pain of his mind.

And as she moaned, the sound breathed life into his chest. Nails raking down his back, leaving deep red marks that bled into his soul. The stain of who they were something he hoped would never be removed. Lips locked onto her own, and his thick arms moved either side of her head, caging her against him, closing her off to the world, to anything other than the way their bodies moved as one…

If only he could say it, just once. If only he could tell her what she meant to him, how she made him feel…if only he could find a way.

#Alastor Moody #Alastor Moody; Harry Potter Marauders Era Verse #mumu rp #indie rp #independent rp #oneshot #drabble #Oneshot; Alastor Moody #Minerva McGonagall

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used-to-be-sneverus · 5 years

Text

Bedroom Affairs

Severus Snape / Albus Dumbledore (Explicit)

Two endings because this is supposed to be a happy occasion but I live for angst.

@lifeofapottedplant happy birthday!

There are fairy tales not unlike this. Some experienced man and a young maiden. A man with power and a woman with beauty. He is strong, and she is fair.

Only Severus isn’t a woman. And he definitely isn’t fair. Or young, for that matter. 37 years old virgin. Christ’ sake.

Wow, he is really ruining his midnight wank with that train of thought.

With a heavy sigh, he closes his eyes again, conjuring the image of Albus’ hands. It shouldn’t be erotic. He shouldn’t wish for Albus to want him. To use him. Shouldn’t wish for Albus to claim him, greedily, to fuck him over his desk after every summon of the Dark Lord, to remind him who he belongs to. A whiny sound slips from between his lips.

Shit.

He forces his mouth closed again. Every sound he makes is too loud, and seems to reverberate in the room. Albus’ room. The rustling of the silky robes that cover him, the breaths rolling off his lips, the wet sound of his lubed up hand working his cock impatiently.

Almost there.

Fuck, this is taking long.

“Severus?”

He yelps, an embarrassing sound that he would be more concerned with if he weren’t naked, on Albus’ bed, covered in only Albus’ robes. For a second, which must have lased an eternity, nothing happens. The two of them just stare at one another. It takes a while before Severus notices that his hair is reddish, and his skin looks soft, and then it takes entirely too long for him to realise that Albus must have been taking the de-aging potion. Only Severus hasn’t been making it. A pang of something sharp and bitter runs through him at the thought.

“You were supposed to be gone.” His voice is surprisingly steady and low. Almost as if Albus is the one at fault here.

“I was gone,” Albus says, his voice equally steady. “And I will be gone again soon.”

Severus sniffs, trying to convince himself that the situation is merely inconvenient, and not painfully shameful. “I will leave, then.”

“You shall do no such thing.”

Before Severus can rise, Albus’ hand is firmly on his shoulder, pushing him down again.

“I have spent 4 days traveling back and forth over the world. I have spoken repeatedly to Ministry men and women who care not for truth. I have crossed paths with Death Eaters in places they should never have been. I have faced Grindelwald and my own past.” He pauses briefly, his finger brushing gently over Severus’ bare shoulder, his chest, his neck. “And tomorrow I may very well be dead.”

“Don’t,” Severus snaps, his eyes automatically searching for the blackened hand, before he sharply turns his head away.

“So forgive me, Severus, but tonight I will be selfish.”

He says nothing. Instead, he stubbornly stares at the wall opposite from Albus. And when the mattress dips, he says nothing either.

Fingertips trace over his chest, leisurely making their way down. Between them, there is only the thin fabric of Albus’ robes. The fingers run over his hips, his inner thighs, and Severus holds his breath when they run over his erection. He still half expects to be yelled at. To be called disgusting. To be sent away and asked to never return.

He does not expect the lips that suddenly brush over his nipple. A surprised little “oh” escapes him. Then there is the warm wetness of Albus’ mouth, the hint of teeth, and Severus’ hips jump without his permission. A blush creeps over him, and he almost wants to apologise, but Albus doesn’t remove his lips from Severus’ chest and so Severus can’t utter but a few tight-lipped “oh”s and “ah”s. Albus presses his palm against his dick, and Severus lets out a hard breath, his hips jerking up again, chasing the friction.

“What were you doing in my room?”

Albus’ voice is low and heavy, muffled against Severus’ chest. His breath hits Severus’ wet nipple, and a shiver runs down his spine. It takes a moment, or several moment, before Severus can collect his mind.

“I was- I- Nothing.” His voice his breathy and urgent. He closes his eyes, feelings Albus’ fingers curl around his throbbing cock, the silky robes still between them. He thinks he will say something stupid any moment, and he fears that he will not care. Not as long as that hand keeps rubbing him, slowly, teasingly.

“Were you thinking of me while doing nothing?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

He rolls his head back a little, gasping audibly when Albus leans in and kisses his neck. The warm wetness is odd on his neck, odder than on his nipples even. He can feel Albus’ tongue, and the soft suction where he knows it will leave a mark. Somehow, it’s far more intimate than anything that happened to his nipples, more intimate then the hand firmly squeezing his cock. A shudder runs through him so violent that he fears he will come then and there.

When Albus raises his head again, Severus feels unbearably exposed. His neck feels sore in an almost pleasant way, and when the cold air hits the wet patches of skin, he shivers. Albus’ nose brushes over his ear, and his voice is low and hot against his skin.

“How long have you wanted this? How long have you been waiting for me?”

Severus opens his mouth to reply, but the hand around his cock squeezes him hard, scattering all thoughts into pieces. He feels the moan that rolls over his tongue more than hearing it, and reaches blindly for Albus, clawing at his robes and holding on tightly as his orgasm begins to shudder through him.

For a moment, he stares unseeingly at the ceiling, mind and body glowing with bliss. He is breathing hard, and his eyelids flutter when a thumb brushes over his face. A little more clumsily than he’d have liked to, he pries his hands from Albus’ robes. Albus’ eyes follow his every move. The heat in his cheeks flares up again.

He tries to say something, feeling as though he ought to apologise, but he can’t force the words over his lips. Instead, he reaches out for Albus, his hand feeling strangely heavy as it presses against the erection through layers of clothes. When Albus moves, he flinches, certain he will be hit or shoved away. Instead, there are lips on his own, and it takes a stupidly long moment for him to realise he is being kissed. His hand rubs against the bulge, and Albus moans into the kiss.

And tomorrow I may very well be dead.

Severus’ hands move of their own accord, pulling Albus closer, his body arching up to meet him. The silky robes between them are pushed away, and after some fumbling, Albus’ robes open and slip down his shoulder. He is on top of Severus, who can’t help but grind himself against him, wanting to feel all of him. Sweat-slicked skin against skin.

Albus gently but urgently pushes apart his thighs. Severus lets him, and he blushes hotly as he spreads his legs more, feeling decadent just for how much he wants this. A hand touches his cock, which is still sore, but twitches willingly. The touch moves to his balls, and then behind them. A finger, wet and slippery, presses against him. He wonders whether he is about to get fucked with his own lube, and isn’t sure whether to feel relieved or embarrassed about having brought it with him. The thought quickly dissipates as the finger enters him.

Oh.

Albus has definitely done this before. He wonders, suddenly, who else was before him. How many have lied underneath Albus, writhing and moaning against him. Whether Albus has his eyes closed tightly because in his mind it is someone else’ body beneath him.

He runs his hands over Albus’ back, grabs him, digging his nails in and holding on tightly as Albus’ finger brushes over the right spot, again and again and again. A second finger slips in. He wants to say something. Hurry up or Fuck me or Please. All that comes out is a wretched moan.

Severus is half-hard again by the time Albus pulls out his fingers. Something large and blunt presses against his opening. Very briefly, he wishes he could see it. See Albus’ cock. Feel it with his hands and maybe with his mouth. He feels stupid, knowing he’s going to be fucked but never having even seen anything of it.

It’s big, he thinks, rather ineloquently. It’s- “Ah!” very big.

He writhes restlessly underneath Albus, digging his nails into his back to pull him closer, then shifting as if trying to escape. Then it rubs against that magic spot again, and Severus stills, breathing hard and waiting as Albus slowly thrusts into him, rubbing him just right from within. He closes his eyes. Forces them open. Closes them again. “Oh fuck,” he hears himself say. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.”

His cock is hard again, sliding deliciously against Albus’ belly. Every thrust becomes a little harder, a little more urgent, until Albus’ hands are pinning him down to keep him in place, and the bed begins to creak in earnest.

Albus’ mouth leaves sloppy kisses on his neck, his teeth gently nipping him. Muffled groans slip between his wet lips and Severus’ skin. Severus arches up, his hips twitching as his second orgasm overtakes him, a ragged moan shuddering out of him.

He is spent, impossibly relaxed while Albus continues to fuck him. His cock keeps rubbing that spot, and he breathes out hard, sore and aching in a way that never felt so good. Without thinking, he arches up again, curling his legs around Albus, who suddenly stills, thrusts again, once, twice, then stills again. Slowly, he collapses on top of him, resting his head in the nook between Severus’ neck and shoulder.

Severus lazily runs his fingers through Albus’ hair. It has never looked so unruly. He stares at the ceiling. It is as though he is so tired that he wide awake again. Tentatively, he touches Albus’ cheek, his shoulder, his back. Albus hums sleepily, as though he means to ask a question but can’t find the words. Carefully, Severus reaches for the bed sheets, pulling them closer with the tips of his fingers. One of the edges is underneath them.

He shifts slightly, slowly, holding his breath, until finally the sheets are pulled out.

Albus stirs, but doesn’t rouse, and Severus very slowly pulls the sheets up until they are just beneath Albus’ chin. He takes a deep breath, aware of the weight of another man on him. He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

It most likely morning, when he somewhat resurfaces from his sleep. He is in that pleasant haze between dreaming and waking up, slowly becoming aware of the too soft bed underneath him, the sheets that don’t smell of musty dungeons, and the warmth in the air that would have been chased away by the draught in his room. That, and the hand on his erection.

He hums questioningly as his eyelids flutter apart. Albus is propped up on one elbow, on his side, watching him, touching him. Severus blushes.

“Pervert.”

His voice is too hoarse and sleepy to give the word any strength. Albus grins, far too awake for this hour of the day.

“I suppose I shall not remind you of the state I found you in.”

Severus opens his mouth, feels his blush creeping down his neck, and closes it again. With movements that are too clumsy and sleepy for his liking, he turns to his side, with his back to Albus.

Albus is hot, his bare skin burning against Severus’ back. A wet kiss is placed on his neck, and he supposes it’s only natural that he arches his back, feeling Albus’ firm cock against his bum. He is pushed down on his belly, and raises his hips eagerly as Albus’ finger works his way in. It’s quick this time. Or maybe he is too sleepy to keep up. He tenses for a moment when the blunt tip of Albus’ cock eases it’s way in. Then Albus’ hand reaches around and rubs his dick until it’s dripping, and before he knows it Albus is deep inside him, thrusting slowly, and Severus moaning into his pillow, arching his back obscenely like some randy cat.

Albus holds still for a moment. There is a kiss between his shoulder blades, almost chaste. Then Severus feels his hand going through his hair, grabbing a fistful of it, and Severus gasps and he thinks he begs “Please” but he isn’t sure and he can’t think because Albus is fucking him hard and thoughts and words are rattled loose in his head.

He is moaning, loudly, his hips rising to meet every thrust. Albus’ fingers are digging into his hips hard enough to leave bruises. Then he pulls Severus close, holding him tightly through his orgasm. Severus rolls his hips, depserately grinding against him, and Albus makes a chocked sound.

He pulls out, and Severus makes a whiny sound that he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about because he is flipped over. Then Albus is between is legs again, and Severus catches a glimpse of his cock, wet and softening. The sight distracts him and he has no time to brace himself when Albus bends down and his mouth is around Severus’ cock. Warm wet tight mouth. Severus screams. Shudders. Comes so hard he sees stars.

Second Ending.

He yanks them out.

Albus stirs, and his voice is so soft and sleepy that Severus almost doesn’t understand him.

“Gellert?”

He is holding the covers over them, unable to put them down or throw them aside. His heart is beating very fast suddenly. He waits. Listens closely. No other sound comes from Albus, but the slow, even breaths of sleep. His hands shake just a little as he slowly puts the sheets down, as he pulls them up until they’re just beneath Albus’ chin. He spends the night watching the ceiling. He doesn’t move, barely even breathes. It feels not unlike sleep paralysis. Only it lasts, and it lasts, and the monster on his chest stays quiet all night long.

And tomorrow I may very well be dead.

#snumbledore #snape #dumbledore #arbol #happy birthday #fanfic #my stuff

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spacerockwriting · 5 years

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Dimmed Lights

For the Shipmas 2018 Prompt: Christmas lights in Hogsmeade

Thanks so much to @littlerose13writes for the prompts!

Read on A03

“Al, what should we wear this Saturday?” Shagging blond hair is pushed out of the taller one’s eyes. “I’m thinking my jumper your grandmum kitted, or should I wear my one with the snitches? Oh, the nifflers wearing hats!” He rummages through his trunk, shifting through various of worn jumpers.

The crisp fall air was slowly turning into the cold dampness of winter. Hogwarts had already had their first snowfall, and Hogsmeade was all prepped and ready for the holiday shopping season. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, the first and only of the holiday season, and Scorpius was overly excited. He loved when all the fairy lights would light up the small village and how the shops would suddenly sparkle more than normal. People on the streets seemed friendlier, and students bustled around with that energy that only the holidays could bring.

Every year since they started going to Hogsmeade, him and Albus would get dressed in their warmest jumpers and go see the lights in Hogsmeade. They would marvel at the holiday displays in some of the stores and do their holiday shopping. Warm butterbeer and cocoa would eventually make its way into the evening time, as their scarves would be wrapped tighter as the night grew chillier.

It was a tradition Scorpius was fond of. It reminded him of simpler times, back when his mother was alive and he would squeeze between her and his father while they went around the local village and looked at the lights. When he arrived at Hogwarts, the first two years the lights were forgotten. His mother grew more ill, and his father had other priorities. When it came time for third year, he and Albus accidentally stumbled upon the lights one evening. Al was drenched wet with a snowball from his older brother, and the two took refuge in a cozy corner of the Three Broomsticks, warm butterbeer and coca in hands.

Scorpius craved the warm taste of butterbeer and cocoa, hands linked with Albus as they walked along the snowy streets. They’d laugh at something stupid, then Albus would say how he played guitar better than one of the street performers. There’d be a promise of hearing his band play again, followed by a playful push and shove. Scorpius would hope there’d be a kiss, but he doubts that would happen.

Albus walks in heavy footsteps to his bed. He’s wearing a torn and tattered band shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, dark hair shagging over his bright, green eyes. “I’m not going,” Albus mumbles out and Scorpius lets out a sigh. He looks at the chipped black nail varnish on his best friend’s fingers, and the smudges of eyeliner that still cling to the underneath of the bags under his eyes. “I don’t think I should,” Albus adds, and Scorpius’ heart sinks.

“It’s tradition,” Scorpius says back. It’s a small, desperate plead, but with little effort. “We always go see the lights in Hogsmeade.”

“I don’t—“ Albus looks away, starting to pick at the black nail varnish. When he chips enough away, he then goes to pick at a green thread on the bed. “I don’t think I should go. But you can go,” Albus finishes quickly. “Don’t let me be the reason you don’t.”

Scorpius looks at the ceiling, then scoots away from his trunk and places himself onto the bed next to Albus. “We always go together,” he repeats.

Albus frowns, frustrated. He shuts his eyes. “I don’t—“ He squeezes his eyes even harder. “You should go without me, okay?” There’s a tear that trickles out his eye. He’s looking over at the wall, keeping all glances away from Scorpius. He shoves his pillow to his head, curling up. “I don’t want to go,” he huffs out. “I don’t want to go to stupid Hogsmeade, with all the stupid couples and stupid people and stupid shopping,” he grumbles. “I don’t want to look at the stupid lights. I don’t want to look at stupid displays. I don’t want—“

Scorpius frowns. He’s not normally angry, but getting frustrated with Albus has become more frequent. Ever since Albus had his first real boyfriend, he’s been more less confidant, more anxious, and his heart seems more shattered. The breakup really destroyed his best friend, and Scorpius only hopes his love can help mend his best friend’s heart, if Albus will give him the chance.

“Well, maybe this isn’t about you,” Scorpius snaps, removing himself from the bed. “Ever think of that? Maybe I like going to see the lights with you. Maybe I want to hold on to some of these stupid things. Maybe, for once, I just want to do a nice holiday event with my best friend. But no, I can’t, because you’re moping again.” He sighs. “I get it, Al. Jake’s a fucking jerk for breaking up with you after a shag, and is the biggest arse this side of the world. But maybe, for once, I wanted to not have things be about Jake and have fucking fun with my best friend.” Albus blinks, looking over at Scorpius. The swearing from his best friend draws his attention, as Scorpius isn’t the one to normally swear and cause a commotion. Scorpius doesn’t usually explode like this. “For once, Albus, can’t we just do something fun together without your moping? He broke up with you, it’s over.” Scorpius sighs, then tosses a small box onto Albus’ bed. “By the way, Happy Birthday.” Scorpius slams his trunk shut, which startles the little ferret on the window sill.

Albus blinks at Scorpius, picking up the small box. “My birthday isn’t until June.” He sits up, wiping at his eyes. “You know that.”

“Yeah, well.” Scorpius scratches at the back of his neck. This was dumb. He shouldn’t have done this, his brain screams to him. “Go on, open it,” he tells his best friend.

Albus picks apart the wrapping. He pauses to read the card attached to the parcel. “Albus, Happy One Year. Love, Scorpius xxx.” He pulls off more paper, revealing a small jar of pepper imps. Confused, he looks at the blond. “What is this for?”

“I was going to give it to you Saturday, but you’re not going to the stupid lights. Saturday marks your one year of sobriety from potions.”

“You remember?” Albus’ tearful eyes soften. They’re still damp, but he’s turned to Scorpius, facing the blond who has moved off his bed.

“Of course I do,” he whispers. “How could I forget?” Scorpius goes to sit beside Albus. “Al, you were absolutely fucked out of your mind. Because of school. How could I not remember?” Scorpius hesitates, but goes to put a hand through Albus’ shaggy hair. It’s grown a lot longer compared to the patchy mess it was a year ago. Scorpius ruffles it, agreeing with the cousins and relatives that would suggest Al needing a haircut. But Scorpius knows that Albus has no desire to cut it. He wants to grow it like the muggles in the book he’s read, the very same book he’s been obsessed with lately. He gently removes his hand from the boy’s hair.

Albus goes to rub at his hair, ruffling the strands back to the mess it was. He looks at the pepper imps in his lap. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.” He reaches to grab the plush owl from the corner of his bed, squeezing it to his chest. “Merlin, I’m so sorry, Scorpius,” he repeats. His eyes leak tears again, although this time Scorpius isn’t angry. “I’m such a horrid friend, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s,” Scorpius pauses. He takes a glance at Albus and his owl, then at Albus’ pet ferret. “It’s okay, Albus. It’s okay.” He scoots closer to the brunette, leaning in to give him a hug. Albus hugs back, not turning the hug away like he normally would. The two stay clutched in their hug until Albus’ sniffles quiet down, then eventually disappear. The two then break apart, as Albus lets out one last snuff.

“Do you still want to go see the lights with me?” Albus asks. His voice is softer, something that has changed in the boy since his break up.

“If you promise to act surprised about the dinner I had planned,” Scorpius replies back, his voice equally soft.

Albus’ lips twitch into a small smile. “You planned a dinner, too?”

“Y-yeah. It’s a big deal. I thought maybe celebrating would be good for you.”

Albus takes in the words that the other says. He thinks back to a year ago, when he was overly dependent and stressed out over school. He remembers the Christmas before, where he was moody and angry, coming home from the hospital just mere days before Christmas day. Scorpius had given him a box of chocolate frogs, along with his Christmas gift of a muggle vinyl record he adored. The two had sat in his room for hours, and Scorpius didn’t even tease him about his short haircut or inability to eat certain foods. Scorpius may have been the one who found out, but he was also one of the few who didn’t treat him like a patient.

He thinks about how Scorpius was one of the few who didn’t treat him like a patient. He thinks about the term after his potion, where Scorpius took care of him, helping him feel better. Scorpius was there every day to bring him food, to read to him. Scorpius had decided to skip various Hogsmeade outings just to sit with Albus, who wasn’t allowed to leave the castle. Scorpius played every game available, and did every puzzle he could find. They spent so much time crammed in their dorm room, and Albus couldn’t be more thankful for his best friend.

Going to see the lights was something Scorpius deserved. Scorpius needed this. The hardest part about being sick was the fact that he had to witness everyone else’s feelings about it. He had to see Scorpius being calm and quiet, and he had to see James act responsible, and he had to see his parents look hurt. But mostly, he had to see Scorpius be soft about everything he did, like he was holding back every tear he didn’t want to cry.

Albus figures maybe he should do this. Suck up and just go see the lights for Scorpius. He thinks maybe, just maybe, this could be good for him too. If this is what made Scorpius happy, then maybe he should just suck it up. After all, he spent near all of last term clinging to Scorpius’ every move and shadow. How could this really be any different? Plus, the way Scorpius’ eyes grew wide at the lights, and the way he sipped his warm beverage, always made Albus feel warm.

Besides, how could he skip out on a stupid tradition over a stupid boy? His heart clenches at the mention of stupid boy, and he forces all glum to the pit of his stomach. He had fucked up last year when they went and Albus was too fucked to really remember, and he was probably already going to mess up this year, but, at least he wasn’t fucked out his mind.

The pain of the breakup still weighed heavy in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know if he could ever feel better again. Scorpius was here to bring out some sense of normalcy, and he was trying to celebrate something that Albus wanted to erase forever from his mind. But he couldn’t, as those things would never be the same again between the two of them. Scorpius deserves this, Albus’ mind tells him once again. He nods in agreement to himself and lets out a bit of a sigh.

Getting off the bed, Albus goes to his own trunk, pulling out some of his own worn jumpers. He pulls out one with dancing hippogriffs on it. It came from his uncle’s shop, a part of a line of wacky holiday jumpers. Technically, the hippogriffs can be charmed to dance and move, but Albus had been advised by his Uncle George to not charm the wool when around those with a less than quality sense of humor.

“I wish thinking the hippogriffs could go with the nifflers,” he suggests. “If that’s okay with you.”

Scorpius smiles. “That’ll be perfect.”

#scorbus #Scorpius Malfoy #albus severus potter #shipmas 2018 #Dimmed Lights #ccsquad

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chloevong · 6 years

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here i am again.

3/22/18

let me start off saying that i am god damn tired. my future isn't set, my lines are becoming weaker with each stroke. every night i look forward to getting stoned as opposed to seeing the people who care about me. my relationship feels like its at a standstill. im not bored, im in love, but god damn im tired.

i stopped drinking and doing various other drugs, it was time. i havent felt so shitty in a while. with all of this medication i am on, drinking isnt a priority anyway. i feel like the weight of the world is on me, and for some reason i dont know why i feel like i am constantly doing things for everyone else. i was informed by one of my doctors that i could have a more serious brain/ mental illness than ADHD, fucking great. i guess that would explain a few things but i have to have more tests done... and that costs money in which i lack. im not asking for a handout, im not a lazy fuck, i work my fucking ASS off. my mental state TODAY is fair, but thats probably due to the medication. i never thought id be the person saying that...

i think i need a change of scenery. work.... is awful. i feel like thats the thing that is holding me back the most. and school.... i havent been since 2015. i can lie to others, i can lie to myself, but i deep down know im not good for shit at making my future better. i dont wanna be stuck in this god damn industry for my whole life. my family expects better- i expect better for myself but i dont do it????? im too focused on making money??? but how am i supposed to make money with no job and going to school full time??? who is going to support me???? the answer is no one but myself. i am my own hero, it has to be that way in times like this, doesnt it...?

growing up in a world like we have today is probably the worst thing.application after application and i still cant nail a job where i am appreciated, respected, or not fucked over for money, or a creepy boss trying to lie on me and get his way with his words. my hard work seems like it never pays off and i feel like it is a factor as to why my relationship isnt 100% the best.

he supports me, yes. but he has his own shit i cant even beginnnnn to discuss. quite frankly i dont know how to “handle” it. i feel like i am deteriorating, and i dont know how to change it until its too late. i dont want to lose the person who makes me smile on the hardest of days. sometimes i dont feel like i am enough but then i also think “that is silly, who else in their right mind would put up with me? this man loves me.... loves me, sometimes its just harder to see.”

a quote by Albus Dumbledore states: “Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times. If one only remembers to turn on the light.” That right there is something special to me, and something i listen too more everyday. i guess i just have to turn on the light... who knows.

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years

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BASICS.

NAME. Hestia Jones AGE: 18 ALUMNI HOUSE. Ravenclaw BLOOD STATUS. Half-blood ORDER RANK. Low-Level FACECLAIM. Lana Condor

PAST.

Hestia was born in a thunderstorm. It was the way her parents always liked to tell the story, explaining the high winds outside the window, the way the tree blew, the way the house shook... They hadn’t made it to St. Mungo’s - she had come too fast. Ready for the world, even when it was hardly ready for her. From the moment she was born, she was wildfire. As a child, she liked to ask questions about everything, curious about people and the world around her. She talked - a lot - but always seemed to have a reason for the words. Nothing was left unspoken, but nothing said was useless, either. Her magic showed up early and she liked to experiment with it, even then, despite her parents’ protests that it was illegal to do magic outside of school. “But I’m not even in school yet!” Hestia would cry out with glee as she streaked around the sitting room, too fast for human feet on their own. The Hat barely had to touch her head when she was sorted in her first year - such a unique mind belonged in Ravenclaw, of course! Hestia surprised many of her classmates. She was small, meek-looking - but she proved to them that looks could be deceiving. She was bold, powerful, fearless. And she could do it in heels! After all, a little make-up never hurt anyone. Just because she was badass didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a sense of fashion! That was something worth being curious about, too.

PRESENT.

Hestia always knew she wanted to make a difference in the world so, after graduation, she joined the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Law. While she is still just starting out - an intern - she wants to make the Wizarding World a better place by fixing outdated laws and working on new, more modern ones. When Hestia was approached by Albus Dumbledore to join the Order of the Phoenix barely four months ago, she had hesitated, but only for a second. After all, her job is in law now - and joining the illegal vigilante group that The Daily Prophet always talks about is clearly against that. But she realized that the things she wants to fight - oppression against halfbreeds, muggleborns, and others - has only become harder to do the more Voldemort gains traction within the magical world. She joined the Order because she believes in justice and righteousness - believes in forging your own path. However, she’s been stuck with a group of people she just can’t agree with. She remembers Dorcas from school and, while both girls had been outspoken, Dorcas was just always so crass about it. Hestia thinks Dorcas looks down at Hestia’s pretty robes, perfectly manicured nails, and styled hair - but Hestia looks down on Dorcas’ way of doing things, too. It’s clear she’s brainwashed most of the others in the low-level to do her bidding. And Hestia isn’t about that - after all, she gets to make her own choices.

CONNECTIONS.

FABIAN PREWETT. A lot of members in the higher-up levels seem war-weary, but Hestia thinks Fabian just seems to be a bit more affected than most. Maybe that’s just because he never really appears fully present at meetings - or maybe it’s the way Hestia’s noticed he’s just a bit too eager to dive headfirst into danger. With that kind of attitude, he’s going to get himself killed. And, the more she gets to know him, the more she wonders if that’s not exactly what he wants. EDGAR BONES. Hestia works for Edgar’s sister and she is Hestia’s idol. However, it’s weird coming to meetings and seeing Edgar, while also knowing Amelia is not in attendance. It feels like almost a betrayal to the woman Hestia wants to become, keeping this secret from her. Surely Amelia doesn’t know her brother is involved in the Order - after all, she’s a law official, too. Sometimes, Hestia just wants to blurt it out. But hadn’t she made an agreement not to tell? ARCHIBALD MACMILLAN. They only met recently, but Hestia absolutely adores Archie. He’s older than her with a wicked fashion sense and just completely fabulous. They joke around together, which makes Order things much more fun. She admires the way he’s pushed past expectations in order to try and be himself. Hestia wishes she would have had a friend like him growing up to keep her grounded in her ideals of individuality.

Alternate FC Suggestions: Brianne Tju, Arden Cho

HESTIA IS TAKEN.

#harry potter roleplay #marauders rpg #marauders rp #marauder rp #literate rp #hestia jones bio #hestia jones #ravenclaw #half blood #low level #character bio #taken

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asriels · 7 years

Note

colour me curious, i really want to know what lily meant that james would understand it the best. what can you tell us about james sirius??

Depending on who you talk to, James Potter is a whirlwind orJames Potter is the devil or James Potter is just a sad and misunderstood youngman. Nobody seems sure of anything apart from his cool. That he’s got naileddown. The tattoos, all barbs and claws and hooks. The leather jacket, worn andjust the right amount of snug around his shoulders. The girls, trailing in hiswake like petals on the wind.

Everybody thinks they know him and nobody has a clue at all.

“You want to talk about it?” says Teddy one night when hefinds James wild-eyed in Camden, shivering out of his skin.

“Nah,” lies James, and lets his best friend Asta tug himback into the party.

The thing about James is that he lets everything get to him.Lily’s accused him of this a million times. He lets the expectations weigh himdown. He plays Quidditch because of course he’d play Quidditch, he’s GinnyWeasley’s son. He cheeks teacher in school because of he’d cheek teachers, he’sJames Potter’s grandson. He gets into trouble because of course he’d get intotrouble, he’s Harry Potter’s firstborn. The eldest. The one.

“Who are you?” Lily demands of him when she’s fourteen andhe’s seventeen, her hands on her hips and her skinny frame blocking the doorwayso he couldn’t escape if he tried. “Who do you even want to be, James?”

“This,” lies James, tugging on his jacket. “This is me.”

Lily loves him but she doesn’t get it. She could never getit. What they say about her bounces off her, slides away like water off grease.But it sticks to James. It sticks so strongly he can feel it trailing aroundafter him.

People think they can say what they like. They think hedoesn’t care. And James makes them think he doesn’t: laughs at insults, answerssmears on his sister’s honours with his fists, goes out and parties harderevery time some magazine says that he parties too much. People say, “you don’tdeserve to be Harry Potter’s son. He deserves better than this,” and Jamesrolls his eyes and lights another cigarette.

His brother Albus nurses grudges, cooks them up deep andslow inside his chest. James nurtures the hurts. Every single tiny thing anyonehas ever said to him, nailed up on the walls of a secret room beneath his ribs.He feels them flutter every time he takes a breath.

“Talk about it,” demands Dominique one night in Edinburghwhen they’re drowsy with marijuana, leaning into each other on her sofa. “Ifnot to me, then to someone.”

“Nothing to talk about,” lies James, and gestures for theblunt. “Pass me that.”

Three days later in a pub, Aaron Jordan finds him and claimsthe seat beside him.

“Is it true you’re Jemima Peakes’ baby daddy? She says youare.”

James blinks. He remembers Jemima. He remembers her beingdefinitely pregnant the first time they slept together.

“No chance.” James’ best friend is there. She’s scornful,bored already. It makes Aaron shift in his seat. Asta has that effect onpeople. “Didn’t she have the kid, like, a month ago?”

Aaron tries not to quail under the weight of her disdain.She’s got her hair pulled back into two tight braids, and it makes her eyeslook wider and deadlier than usual.

“Could be mine,” says James lazily. He’s not in the mood fora fight. And what does it matter, anyway? An illegitimate kid at nineteen isexactly the sort of thing the papers will love—and who is James to deny themextra sales?

These are the sorts of lies he likes to tell himself.

“No way,” replies Asta. She glares at Aaron like it’s hisfault. “She was three months gone by the time she and James fucked. Unlessthere’s some freaky Voldemort magic shit going on there, the baby’s someoneelse’s. Hardly a surprise, really.”

“Easy, Nott.” James slings an arm around her shoulders. “We’rehardly in the position to judge someone for getting around.”

“You’re not, maybe,” sniffs Asta, who’s been holding ontoher virginity in the hopes of getting alone time with Quidditch star Hawkley.

“Fine,” concedes James, and gets up for another pint.

The next day, Accio!runs a headline about an unnamed girl lying about her baby’s paternity to tryto claim grandchild support off wizarding hero Harry Potter. Online, thearticle gets 300 comments in two days ripping her apart for trying. Jemimawithdraws the claims after that. James can’t admit to being relieved.

Comments sections don’t usually work in his favour.

Anyway, the headlines change two months later when Jamesgets photographed punching Faolan McLaggen in the face at a nightclub in Soho.

“You arsehole,” says Asta, examining his mangled knuckleswith contempt. “Pick a fight with someone built less like a bulldozer nexttime.”

James feels his pride prickle. “It wasn’t a fight. I knocked him cold.”

Teddy makes him go and apologise. It takes him six solidweeks of guilt-tripping and bribery, but eventually he manages to drag James tothe McLaggens’ family farm in County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland.

Predictably, Faolan’s fit sister opens the door. James istoo gloomy about having to say sorry that Teddy manages to start flirtingfirst, which just puts a further damper on the whole day.

“Heard you’re into hardcore drugs, now?” asks the sister,whose name James wasn’t paying attention to. “Was the fighting and drinking notenough?”

James just shrugs. There’s no point arguing. People salivateat the prospect of believing the worst of him. Everybody just loves that Harry Potter’s son is such adisaster.

“Look, let’s just go,” he says to Teddy.

And then this guy walks in. He’s solid, ephemeral, beautifuland fair as a unicorn. James’ entire stomach twists up into a knot.

“This is Eirnin,” says the sister, “my brother. Think he wasthe year below you, Potter?”

James is well-practised at disinterest. He nods, once, atEirnin, and turns away.

They meet again at a polo tournament. He’s dragged Astaalong, because this is exactly the kind of snobby and homicidal pureblood sportshe’s into, and she’s spent the entire match complaining that he’s watching thesidelines instead of the game.

“What are you even lookingat?” she demands, and follows his line of sight. She stops when she findsEirnin, shirtless and glazed with sweat, frantically rubbing down one of hisfather’s kelpies as it comes off the field.

“Oh,” she says, and then turns to James. Her eyes bug out. “Oh.”

James doesn’t say anything at all.

What develops with Eirnin—it isn’t easy. James has neverbeen vulnerable about another person before but he just…can’t help it. Eirninis steady as ice and generous as a saint. But he’s also Catholic—really Catholic—and James is somehow relieved to discover that Eirnin is more worried about him being a guy thanabout him being James Potter, with all the baggage that entails.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Eirnin whispers one night,his mouth against James’ neck. “I just—”

James digs his fingers in to the soft tanned skin of Eirnin’sback. “I don’t know either.” Beat. “But let’s do it anyway.”

He feels Eirnin smile against his throat.

It still isn’t easy, even after that.

But it’s better.

#hp #james sirius potter #james potter #next gen #hp next gen #w mine #Anonymous #hp fic

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reid-wholock-scamander · 7 years

Text

Shocker.... (A Newt Scamander Whump) Chapter 1

Summary: Did Newt really defeat Graves without a Scratch? Will Tina be able to save Newt before it’s too late?

Cannon Pairings.... Newtina slight fluff/romance....No Mature content!!! HUGE whump in the later chapters!!! Check my Fanfiction account for current updates and other chapters!!!

Thanks to my wonderful Beta named NeahZoldyck13, she has currently beta this chapter and currently fixing the other chapters ;)

The dimly lit train station tunnels were alive with the distant echoes of an intense dispute between a magizoologist and the director of MACUSA's magical defense. Newt tried his best to defend himself from the powerful wizard, Percival Graves, by weaving in and out of the tunnel's large brick pillars.

He managed to dodge the blue electric bolts that Graves flung at him. Graves was an accomplished wands-men, he specialized in wand dueling and not only that, he didn't need his wand or words to generate a basic enchantment. Newt was baffled at the man's determination for the boy, Graves was the M.A.C.U.S.A 's head of security, what could he possibly do with the Obscurus. Newt's mind swirled with assumptions, and then it hit him, he prayed his theory wasn't true.

Meanwhile, Credence stumbled down the tracks oblivious to the train that was fast approaching him. Graves waved his hand, and the boy was thrown out of the train's way, just in the nick of time too. Satisfied he then continued to assault Newt with various spells. Newt frantically dodged his attacks but he wasn't fast enough, and Graves gave a swift flick of his jet-black ebony wand, sending a blue spark that stuck Newt dead on, knocking him to the cold hard ground. The magical current surged through Newt, he screamed as extreme white-hot throbbing pain and his body spazzed from the electrical currents. Newt instantly felt his lungs seized and his heart rate escalate drastically.

Credence got his feet and watched in fear as the strange, timid man fell to his knees, withering into a fetal position on the steel tracks. Credence was in distress, he wanted to help the friendly man in the blue coat, but he didn't know what to do. After all, he was just a freak, "NO!" The bitter voice that resembled his deceased mother corrected him, he was a monster. Credence winced at the abusive women's distant voice, telling him that over and over as the voice mocked and teased him.

Newt attempted to defend himself from Graves's wrath, but Graves shielded his efforts with great ease. Newt felt exhausted; his body was scorched and was protesting every movement making it in too much shock to respond fast enough. Graves persisted in attacking, flicking his wand continuously, lighting the tunnel with flashes of blue. Newt was helpless, and he desperately tried to regain focus as his body twitched at each shot that he failed to shield. Graves had the upper hand, and his eyes were set on Credence.

Graves took a break from attacking the crippled wizard that laid dazed on the ground and decided to make his move on Credence.

"Credence? I'm terribly sorry, I was wrong about you…" he paused "You're no squib there my boy, for you" he pointed at him, shaking his finger with a wide grin, 'Are absolutely beautiful." Graves chocolate eyes sparkled at the boy "And all I want is for you to join me so I can show you your true potential" He said in coaxing tone;

Credence stared at Percival like a deer in the headlights. He'd believed for years that his mother was right, he was useless, except now Graves spoke of him having potential? Was Graves someone to trust? The enticing man then started to approach Credence, but his only obstacle was that annoying obstinate wizard that stood between him and Credence. Newt managed to get up and took a shot a Graves, but it was brushed off like a fly.

Newt twisted his head to Credence with wide green eyes "Don't listen to him Credence! You can trust me; he will hurt you!" He wheezed, it was getting harder to breathe.

Graves scolded the determined wizard and sighed with frustration. Newt was caught by surprise. For just a split-second, he'd dropped his shield and Graves manage to cast his hex with a wave of his hand. The train's rusted tracks groaned and began to lift like a tidal wave, sending Newt flying in its wake. This startled Credence who was confused about the situation, he could feel the darkness take over, and his Obscurus beginning to awaken again.

Newt let out a whimper as he plummeted to the unforgiving ground with a thud, hearing his hand and shoulder crack in response. The pain he felt tripled. Newt had no time to deal with his injuries and without thinking he'd quickly grabbed his wand with his good right hand and apparated, knowing what was to become of Credence's obscurus.

Credence Obscurus raged. Graves looked at the angry cloud forming above him, and he apparated as well. The obscurus burst through the tunnel ceiling leaving a gaping hole through the roof; it arrived outside the station. The crowd of No-Majs screamed as the dark mass broke through the force field the M.A.C.U.S.A had made.

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Newt groaned as he leaned against the station's smooth brick tunnel walls. His lungs gasped for air. His adrenaline had died down now, and he had quickly remembered that the searing pain was returning and surely his body was failing. Newt could barely hear; his heart was pounding in his ears, and his vision was blurry. Quitting wasn't an option. He had to save Credence before Graves could get to him or worse!

Newt recalled a bottle of Phoenix tears; It was from his beloved teacher, Albus Dumbledore, a gift along with the case. He'd had used them as "painkillers" for his injured animals. Newt reached with his right hand in his coat pocket and searched frantically for it. It was difficult because he was left-handed. Finally, Newt found the small glass vile and he'd let out a raspy sigh of relief, knowing the effects wouldn't last long, but it certainly would tide him over till he sorted this mess out. Drinking the last drops of the tears with a gulp, his hand gripped the wall as he'd tried to regain balance. He was still a little sore since the tear's effects weren't instant, and his muscles still twitched and twinge from Graves' magic.

Newt suddenly heard heavy footsteps behind him. He spun around, reaching for his wand, when he noticed the familiar figure with short charcoal colored hair; it was Tina. Newt relaxed. Never before had he been so content to hear her beautiful voice again.

"Newt!? What's happening, where's Credence!?" she exclaimed. She seemed flustered about the situation.

"He's by the tracks with Graves. Hurry, we need to get to him first!" Newt said with urgency.

Instantly he grabbed Tina by her arm and waved his wand, and they apparated back to where they had left the two.

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Tina's eyes searched the bent tracks frantically for the boy, but all she found was a dark cloud that was now Credence. She gasped in horror as Graves approached the unstable child at an alarming pace. Credence panicked as his brain pictured a belt in his mother's hands. The darkness swarmed his mind, and his obscures grew into an even bigger thick black cloud of chaos and immense darkness.

"No, No, No!" Credence shrieked, digging his nails into his head, Newt panicked he didn't know how to settle the dangerous child. Newt was startled when a calm but shaky voice rang out through the station. He watched as Tina spoke to Credence attempting to calm him down.

"Credence, stop" her voice echoed through the tunnel "Don't do this please, I know what that woman did to you, but Newt and I will protect you" Credence heard her and relaxed, his obscurus shrank, and she began to see the outlines of the boy. "Please, I just need you to calm down for me, ok?" Tina spoke in a reassuring tone.

Just as she finished, Picuery's voice bellowed through the tunnel and the M.A.C.U.S.A rushed in from the tunnel's entrance. Everyone had turned to view the group as they got in formation. Picuery's eyes flashed in fear as the dark mass was angered and grew once more. She was fearful of what would happen next, but she stood with great poise. She ordered her aurors to ready their wands and expel the threat.

"No! Stop!" Tina shrieked. She attempted to run to Credence, but Newt held her down.

Picuery was oblivious to Tina's pleas to stop, for she was too late. The black cloud was pelted by hundreds of spells from the aurors. Credence's blood-curdling scream filled the air and echoed through the station. Tina and Newt watched in horror as the M.A.C.U.S.A executed the boy, his obscurus form exploded into black shreds. The remains showered the air, but in the corner of Newt's eye, he could see a strand of black wisp escape the scene, this made Newt lighten with hope.

The silence broke as Graves turned to face Picuery with a threatening expression on his face as he spoke up. Picuery's eyes shot a cold, stern look his way. She was furious that he had betrayed them, causing so much havoc. "You fools, do you all realize what you have just done?" Graves spoke in a scary calm tone looking at Picquery with fire in his eyes;

"He was dangerous. He'd murdered a No-Maj and broke our most sacred law!" Picquery answered with authority.

"A law that makes us scuttle like rats that hide in the gutter, A law that makes us hide our true nature for the fear of discovery?" he said, sarcastically ranting. "I ask you… who does this law really protect, us or them?" His finger pointed to the hole in the ceiling where the No-Maj's were standing by.

" I refuse to bow down to your crooked ways, Madame President." He then bow mockingly, turning to the exit.

The president looked at him in disgust at his comment and motioned to her aurors.

"Aurors, can you please seize Mr. Graves' wand and escort him back to where he belongs?" she said, displeased.

Graves continued to walk to the exit when the aurors barrier stopped him. He rolled his eyes and spun around to face the troop, starting to move towards them. He reached for his wand, blocking the aurors' shots with grace and stamina. Slowly, he knocked them out one by one.

As Newt and Tina stood there in shock, seemingly forgotten by Graves. Then that thought from earlier crossed Newt's racing mind. He should've known it was true. With that, he reached into his pockets and, before Graves could react, he threw his swooping evil. It let out a screeched, gliding across the tracks passing the fallen aurors as it made a beeline for Graves' back. The creature grabbed him with it's sticky cocoon, quickly fastening his arms down and restraining Graves. Newt ambles up to Graves, turning his wand while repeating a chant he'd learned and before everyone knew it, Graves' onyx colored hair transformed into a crème white and his face was distorted into that of an older man's. Newt's suspicions were true, Grindelwald was impersonating Percival Graves...

If you like this (or didn't)please go check out my community that revolves around Newts whump fanfics on Fanfiction.net, I urge you to go and read these amazing stories by awesome authors that I've collected. Also Please leave a comment, like, fav or follow, I would appreciate it!!!!

P.s chapter 2-5 are on my Fanfiction account “Reid Wholock Scamander” The link to the complete fic

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12268576/2/Shocker-Newt-Whump-Fic

#ftbawtft #newt scamander whump #newt scamander hurt #newtina fluff #fanfiction.net #angst fic

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requiescatinpacerp · 5 years

Photo

“I’m an outsider by choice, but I’m hoping that won’t be my choice forever.”

Sybill Trelawney

Age: Twenty-two

Affiliation: Neutral

Blood Status: Halfblood

Career: Assistant to The Minister

Wand: ten inches, silver lime, unicorn hair, slightly flexible

crystals charging in salt baths, dream journals, herbs drying in the kitchen, frizzy hair, sage smoke, bitten nails, sleeping pills, maxi skirts, answering the question before you ask it, herbal teas, soft blankets, bemused glances, star maps, tarot cards scattered across the table, protection runes carved into candles, hanging plants on the bookshelf, mismatched cushions, gardening gloves, crystal balls, late night walks, bath bombs, keeping everyone’s secrets, a shallow stream rushing past a cottage, screaming on the cliff edge, random acts of kindness

Being a half blood Sybill grew up aware of magic and the alternative practices many generations of her family had taken to mastering. Divination may not be as popular or highly thought of as it once was, but it was still the Trelawney legacy, and her father was none too subtle about the fact that he wished for her to keep it alive. Her mother, a muggle woman with flighty tendencies and kind eyes, reminded Sybill that there was nothing wrong with forging your own path. Far from the helpful guides they had aimed to be, these contradictory views only served to confuse the young girl. Her vivid dreams served to exacerbate this inner turmoil, could and keep Sybill from sleep for days on end- they weren’t always scary, but there was often an urgency to the visions that would possess her to leap out of bed, desperate to act at the behest of these people she saw distressed.

Her father would do his best to soothe her, insisting that they were dreams and nothing more. At first Sybill fought back, pleaded with him to let her help these people, but as time wore on she gave up. He never listened, and she was beginning to feel a fool for thinking such things could be real. As the dreams began to darken and leave her hiding under the covers it was her mum she turned too for comfort, sobbing in her arms about devastation, families torn apart, the inescapable terror of a world on its knees. At first her mum would merely comfort, stroke her hair and whisper lullabies until she could lull her daughter back to sleep. But Mr Trelawney, it turns out, kept Sybill in the dark not only about the power of her own mind, but the illness of her mothers.

The more she shared about these nightmares the more paranoid her mother became, insisting that these visions were shared, that the demons they saw were one in the same. It was a lot for a child to process. Together the two of them would hide in the wardrobe, hands over their ears as they sang at the top of their voices, trying to drown out the darkness. As these visions began to haunt her even in the day time it became harder and harder for Sybill to maintain a façade of normalcy. By the time her first year at Hogwarts rolled around she was petrified of her own mind, and desperately hoping that in learning to control her magic she would learn to control these demons, too.

Being placed in Ravenclaw did not surprise her, and the chance it presented to disguise her strangeness with academic excellence was one Sybill took full advantage of. Studying replaced sleeping as often as possible and she didn’t speak a word of her visions to anyone. In fact, she barely spoke a word full stop, deciding herself too odd for friends. She was lonely, but in truth Sybill had no idea how to approach her peers, how to connect with anyone who hadn’t known the same nightmares as she. Even her high grades were not enough to put her above reproach, and soon enough her housemates started to notice that things were amiss with the girl. Those strangled screams they might hear late at night? Sybill. The ghost who stoked the fire in the common room so that it was still smouldering when people woke in the morning? Sybill. The vandal carving strange runes into desks? Sybill. Word of her peculiar habits started to spread beyond even Ravenclaw, and she accepted her fate as an outcast without protest.

She endured bullying too, feeling lucky every time she had the sudden urge to duck into an alcove just as someone with a grudge happened to stalk past. Sybill didn’t give much thought to these precognitions, these musings that would come to her sometimes, assuming them to be common among wizarding kind. That, and they were not nearly as menacing as the dreams, so she didn’t have the capacity to worry about them in the same way.

Sybill was always happiest in the holidays, when she would get to return home and enjoy time with her parents. Though the summer of her third year she stepped off the train with a great sense of foreboding and could not shake the feeling. Her mother had become… Unsettled, bleary eyed, and occasionally spoke with an anger that shocked Sybill. Despite this she endeavoured to spend as much quality time together as possible, confiding in her as she used to about the sights that still plagued her day and night. She did not offer platitudes as she used too but promised that she would find a way to rid Sybill of this trouble once and for all.

Neither of them anticipated things ending quite as horrifically as they did. For her part, Sybill did not anticipate anything at all when she woke up that morning and wandered down into the kitchen to pour a bowl of cereal. She assumed the liquid pooled on the floor by sink was water, she assumed when her mother came through the door with a pack of matches it was to light some candles. The fire was meant to save them both, she said. In the end it was the neighbour who called the fire brigade that did that, the paramedics that broke the door down and found Sybill cowering under the table, back and arms blistered by the heat.

Eventually Sybil was discharged from hospital, but her mother wasn’t, and her father finally shared the truth about these nightmares she had. Syblil Trelawney was not insane, she was a seer. A once prestigious and now scoffed at title in the wizarding world. Her great-great grandmother had been the last, even prophesizing that the next of her kind would be in three generations time. It had always been real. Every nightmare, every twitch of paranoia, every inkling. All based in truth.

It wasn’t long before Sybill began to resent her father for keeping something so big a secret from her, and she was actually glad to return to Hogwarts once classes started up again. She became even more aloof, still afraid to share this part of herself with others. It might not feel like madness to her anymore, but she knew others would still doubt it, laugh at her. People judged Sybill enough for her weirdness, she could not imagine how much crueller they would become if she declared herself a seer. She did gradually warm to the gift, though only slightly, finding she could use it to make a person’s day better without even having to reveal that she was behind the deed. A kind note slipped into a textbook, a hand clutched to the back of someone’s robe to keep them from falling as the staircase suddenly moved, a lost homework assignment found and returned. Learning to navigate the quirks of her abilities alone was tough, but she did her best, and became more assured of herself in the process.

Though apparently, people continued to think of Sybill as little more than a puppet, around only to continue the legacies started in someone else’s name. Towards the end of her final year Albus Dumbledore called her into his office, and as soon as she stepped foot into it she wished to turn and leave again. But she respected him too much to do so and decided to hear out whatever he had to say. That was the moment she vowed always to listen to her instinct, because what he would go on to tell her made Sybill angrier than she had ever been.

He had known. For years, before she’d even been aware herself, Dumbledore knew that Sybill had a gift. He had never thought to help her through it, or even tell her about it. No, he had watched a student suffer silently, thinking herself mad for what she saw, never sleeping, scared of herself, scared of what people would think. Then he had the audacity to ask for her help?

Sybill refused. It was her gift, her talent, and she would decide when and how it was used.

She graduated with very high grades, and no clue what to do with them. How annoying that the only future she could not predict was her own. At first Sybill told herself that the job at The Ministry would only be temporary- she did not care for the higher ups who were somehow oblivious to the dangers she saw so often. But she found some solace in the job, oddly enough, focusing solely on paperwork had a way of soothing the mind, and her gift made organizing schedules a breeze. She rose quickly through the ranks and now finds herself working within The Ministers office. She’s grateful for the respect such a position has afforded her- for years the Trelawney name has been associated only with alternative practices and oddness, but she is proving to be much more than that.

It’s not exactly thrilling work, and Sybill dreams of a more fulfilling- if less financially lucrative- career. But for now, her instinct tells her to stay put and keep an ear to the ground- there is devastation in her dreams and she feels as though when things start to crumble this is where they will need her. Besides, without the steady salary she wouldn’t be able to afford her rent, and she’s only just gotten out of her father’s house. She has reservations about the idea of ever ‘selling’ her gift and loathes the recent boom in muggles claiming to have the same insights as she does, offering predictions and readings through pay monthly apps. It is not a gift that should be squandered for financial gain, and it is certainly not a lie one should spin in order to take advantage of desperate fools.

Sybill has hope that one day others will come to accept and understand her gift. She knows it is a lot to ask- after all there are days when she herself despises it- but there may come a time when it is necessary. She’s had nightmares about her community being wiped out since she was a child and has no intention of standing idly by to witness the real thing. As a half-blood her opinion has always been that the wizarding community should not consider itself some elite and hierarchical club, that heart and soul are far more important than blood will ever be. Her public stance is one of neutrality, a tactical decision on her part. There is safety in not choosing a side and Sybill does not want to draw unnecessary attention to herself by being too vocal, especially while working for The Ministry- she is not arrogant enough to assume she knows the secrets of every staff member, there could well be a few traitors among them. So, for now she waits. No one ever pays the assistant much mind and it is easy to gather information when it is expected that you will sit quietly in the corner and take notes on a meeting.

She can hardly sleep for the visions, heavily reliant on muggle sleeping pills to find a few hours of rest- they do far better than sleeping potions, which allow too much of her nightmares to bleed through. It means the danger is fast approaching, she knows, and eventually neutrality will not be an option, and she’ll have to fight like everyone else. Sybill knows that her gift could hold the power to swing this war one way or another. That is one of the reasons she continues to keep it a closely guarded secret- what people might do to get their hands on such a power scares her, and even more she worries she is cowardly enough to give in to threats to save her own skin.

How do you help when you don’t think anyone will take you seriously? How do you convince others to trust you when you will not trust them? There’s never enough hours in the day for Sybill to assuage her doubts. She must hope that her instincts will remain sharp, and when the time comes she’ll know what to do.

MARLENE MCKINNON – being friends with Sybill is not easy, and Marlene is one of the few who has managed it. They met at school and have remained close, perhaps because Marlene has never pushed her to share what she doesn’t want too. Sybil is glad that all of her secrets haven’t put too much of a strain on their relationship.

ALECTO CARROW – you might think that being able to predict the cruel things someone had to say to you would make them easier to the stomach, but Sybil could tell you from experience that every word still cut to the core, that hearing them twice only made them seem truer. As a bully, Alecto could have been worse- despite threats she was never physically violent, but Sybil has always tended towards paranoia, and avoids the woman to this day for fear of more pain.

REGULUS BLACK -- Feelings aren’t anything new to Sybill and when it comes to Regulus there’s something about him that makes her uneasy. To be honest she does her best to avoid him but it seems that no matter what she does there’s more bumping into him then she’d like.

Sybill Trelawney is currently a TAKEN character with the FC of Alycia Debnam-Carey.

#marauders rp #marauders roleplay #hp rp #harry potter rp #hp rpg #sybill trelawney #alycia debnam carey #taken #takenf #neutral #n #sybilltrelawneybio

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thedeptmuggleinterests-blog · 7 years

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Inferius. Part 3: We’ve Got What We Need. (4th August 2017)

Astoria: The summer breeze blew through her hair, causing it to cover her eyes briefly. She swept it back behind her ear, only to spot the deep red gash on the palm of her hand. An injury she hadn't had time to heal with a charm yet. She had news to deliver, news far more important than the wound, which now she had re-noticed, was throbbing. Astoria walked hurriedly through the Ministry. She had no time to Owl or use any of the numerous messaging systems her and Harry had employed over the year. Her normally calm exterior was showing its cracks. The countless sleepless nights and worry had got to her but she finally had it. She had what she needed to get Nott arrested, to get her life back. Her eyes darted around as her feet carried her hurriedly through the offices until she reached the door to a room she has only been in once. 'Harry Potter- Head Auror' She opened it with no care for who was inside and leaving behind a streak of blood on the handle. And in a hasted breath, "I've got it! I've got what you need!"

Harry: Harry leapt out of his seat and grabbed his wand, thrusting it towards the door. He heaved a huge sigh of relief when he realised who it was, "For gods sake Astoria! Never do that to me again, you frightened the soul out of me!" He gasped, making his way over to her. He ushered her inside, poking his head out of the door and looking around to see if her presence had been noted and as he went to close the door, he noticed the blood. "Are you bleeding?" He said, swiftly casting a scourgify before closing and locking the door.

Astoria: She watched him move around, herself a ball of anxious energy. Waving her hand she moved passed his comment on her cut. And without giving Harry a chance to settle, she stood in the middle of the room and began. "Tonight's the night. It's the best chance you're going to get. He's having one of his parties but this isn't the normal sort. Tonight he's buying. It's going to be at his family's home." She took a breath, she was speaking far faster than she normally would and she still had so much to say. "Under the ballroom. The cellar. He's meeting with the manufacturer. Tonight Harry. They call it Inferius. It makes the taker go into some sort of zombie state. Seriously dangerous stuff." She stopped. Took another deep breath and looked down at her hand. "I can't help you anymore Harry..." Her voice was direct as she looked up at him

Harry: He watched her with wide eyes as he took in all of the information she was spewing at him, his brain putting it all together like a puzzle in his head. When he heard the word 'Inferius' he twitched 'I've heard that word before' he thought 'Padma told us it's what had affected the children'. He was squinting at her now, his brain tick, tick, ticking away as he watched her looking at her hand. "What happened to you there, Tori?" He asked slowly and calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "And how did you cut your hand?"

Astoria: Astoria had put two and two together as soon as Padma mentioned it. Before arriving at the hospital she had come from The Den where Nott was being unusually boastful about his new find. Mentioning how he'd tested it out on a few test subject and loved the product. She would have gone straight to Nott that day if her daughter hadn't been lying in a hospital bed nearly fighting for her life. Astoria looked Harry straight in the eyes, "He hurt my daughter. You think I was just going to let him get away with that?" Her voice rising as her grip tightened around her wand, that she hadn't realised she was still holding, so much her nails dug into her uninjured palm "He was lucky and I guess I was too. His bodyguard was there. I barely touched him but believe me he will have trouble getting rid of the burning welt that's now on his chest." Her jaw clenched and her eyes filled with rage."I swear to Salazar if you don't catch him, Potter, I will find him myself and torture him until his skin rots off. "

Harry: Harry took in all of the information, slowly coming to realise that Nott had been the supplier of the Inferius - the one that had nearly killed his child. He clenched his fists and looked at the floor trying to let it all sink in, but the fury was bubbling up inside of him. "Are you saying that HE was the one that had the drug at the play centre?! I can't believe I haven't put it together... I'm so exhausted I can't think" he looked up at her and gestured to her hand "And what the fuck were you thinking?" The curse word felt foreign on his lips but he didn't care, he was too angry. "You could have blown this whole thing! He could have cottoned on to the whole entire scheme and be half around the world with a suitcase full of bloody polyjuice potion by now!? You should have come to me straight away as soon as you knew! He could have KILLED you!" He screamed.

Astoria: She watched the anger grow in his face, his whole body tensing up. Had it been any other situation she wouldn’t have let him talk to her that way, but she understood his pain more than anyone else could. Had she worked harder she could have got the information before all of this happened. Before their children ended up in hospital. She let him finish, allowing him the time to express his anger before moving toward him and speaking in a low harsh tone, “I am sorry but do you blame me? That animal wanted me there, it was the first time we had made contact since the hospital. Would you have honestly dealt with it in a different way? Face to face with the thing that hurt your child?” Astoria looked down at her hand, “He doesn’t know I work for you. It all happened so fast that I’m not even sure he knows why I did it. But you need to move fast, Potter. Move before he catches on.”

Harry: The blood boiled in Harry's veins as he listened to her speak. He didn't blame her for what she had done at all, he was just thoroughly pissed off at her for nearly blowing the whole plot, and it still being at risk of it being foiled. In fact, right at that moment, he was thinking of all the ways he could kill Theodore Nott and make it look like an accident. Harry hadn't felt this way in a very, very long time, but nobody touched his family and got away with it... Now, he had to act fast before Nott slipped away and disappeared to Timbuktu. "Go back to your daughter and stay there, do you understand?" It wasn't a question, but an order. "You're not to follow me." He murmured "You're done now." Harry strode over to the door, taking his wand out of his pocket once more and turning to face her, he muttered a 'Vulnera Sanentur' to heal the wound on her hand before giving the witch a soft nod in thanks and disappearing down the hall. He had a Weasley to find.

Harry: The smacking of his shoes against the polished marble floor was deafening, as Harry Potter all but sprinted his way down the corridor. He skidded to a halt outside a door which held a polished gold sign saying 'Ronald B Weasley - Deputy Head Auror' and without knocking he swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him. "Ron I need your help"

Ron: Ron looked up, eyes wide like a cat in headlights as his fourth danish of the day hung from his mouth. "Uhh," He managed to mumble before removing the dangling pastry from his lips. "Harry! What's going on?"

Harry: He began to pace immediately, a thin coating of sweat forming on his brow as he figured out how to tell Ron about this horrendous situation. He sat down and then abruptly stood again, pacing once more. "It's... it's hard to explain but I need you to help me and promise you won't get angry... but it's something I've had to do and had to keep from you, from everyone. Shacklebolts orders."

Ron: Ron wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe and watched Harry a little confused. "Well if you tell me not to be angry, you've already got me worried.” He creased his brow and huffed, "I promise. What is it?"

Harry: Harry told him everything. From the moment he was approached by Shacklebolt about the scheme with Astoria, meeting with her in secret every week for the past 6 years, to the whole Nott situation and him being the one who was responsible for Inferius and infecting the children. "We need to go and get him tonight." He scrabbled "Astoria went there and attacked him, she didn't give anything away but he could be putting two and two together right now. We need to get to him before he disappears..."

Ron: Ron had listened in silence as Harry told his almost unbelievable tale. An alliance with Astoria? Nott? 6 years? He was confused as hell and although he promised, he was most definitely angry, Harry had never kept something like this from him. After a while of reflection, Ron stood. "Right. Well I guess we'd best go get him then."

Harry: "I'm sorry, mate" Harry said. Ron didn't look happy at all... "You know what Shacklebolt is like, if I had told you and he found out I would be sacked!" He sighed "Keeping it from you, Ginny, Mione, everyone has been one of the hardest things ever. You know how honest I am." He scratched his beard and took his wand from his pocket. "When this is done, we can go to the pub and I will answer anything. Right now I just want to find the bastard who poisoned my son and put him in Azkaban..."

Ron: He swallowed and nodded at Harry. His fury at Nott taking over his anger at Harry. "Where are we off to? I'm ready," he said curtly, reaching for his jacket.

Harry: "Nott manor.." Harry murmured as he strode over to the door "There's a deal happening under the ballroom. I'm not sure how many there'll be and there's sure to be numerous guards so stay alert. And Ron?" He paused, gulping "Don't let me kill him..."

Ron: Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder, "I'll try mate but there may just be a fight for that when certain parents find out." He tried to give him a sympathetic smile, Ron had no idea how Harry could possibly be feeling- Albus was his nephew but to have this happen to your child? "What's the plan? Surround the place? "

Harry: Harry nodded "Half the team will surround and you and I will go in, stupefying as we go until we get to Nott. We arrest all of the ones involved with the deal. Nott goes straight to cell one so he can be interrogated first..." he paused "Then we get the forensic team in to collect evidence"

Ron: "Sounds good, mate." Ron walked toward the door, his energy increasing but wishing ever so slightly that he hadn't just eaten so many pastries.

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