#and i never really realize they are prophetic until its too late | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkedtae · 3 years

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orange tree ⇾ knj, kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ares!namjoon x mortal!reader (f.) x apollo!taehyung

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ greek god au, established relationship (w/namjoon), smut, pwp, filth, poly au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ he built you a pathronon but you would like to expand its patrons… at least just for the evening.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7.4k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!namjoon, tattooed!namjoon, silver mullet!namjoon, dom!taehyung, blonde mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, a lil bratty!reader, rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), humilition kink, size kink, pain kink, jealousy, threesome, overstimulation, degradation, double penatration (in one hole), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), deep throating, cockwarming, choking, manhandling, body worshipping, pussy worshipping, basically reader worshipping, pussy slapping, cum eating, clit biting, spanking, teasing, begging, spit play, breath play, breast play, pretty much an ungodly amount of filth :)))

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m a hoe :))

❧ banner by ⇾ @kimtaehyunq (thank you so much friend~)

❧ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk and @uhgood-dooghu (a million thanks to these cuties~)

❧ le playlist

⟶ commission for @jamaisjoons through ChangesWithLuv, supporting BLM

Beyond the holy village of Barthes, within a meadow of sun dropped marigolds, you lounge topless underneath an orange tree. Cool winds cut the late summer heat. The breeze hardens your nipples and prickles your exposed skin with goosebumps. Hair tousled, you bite into another orange slice. He did not care for citrus, until he tasted your lips. Then, he planted you an orange tree. He promised you good fortune and a long life.

“You will want for nothing,” he told you. “Just, behave.”

Behave. A word he’d used often with you. Jaw tense, he’d hiss the warning while fondling your breasts or cupping your sex. When he is furious, he is boundless. He fucks like a titan, remnants of a gracious god completely withering away. Tight grips, rough pounds, and seething threats that promise such painful pleasure, Kim Namjoon is a red hot planet of sexual destruction. So angry, so lustful, he serves you a cockful of discipline and then some. You are helpless. To his wrath, you are subjected. But, you don’t mind. The truth of the matter is, your body is always alive when buried under his.

“You’re a minx,” a deep voice states behind you.

You sit up, fruit juice trailing down your arm. Lips in a pout, you gaze up at the tall man behind you. Blonde hair, symmetrical face, sharp collarbone, broad chest and - he smirks - and, oh so sinister. How could a delicate smile be so devilishly sincere? And he brands you a minx… what does this handsome man know of you? How long has he been watching? Swallowing your bite thickly, you try and fail to fathom his beauty.

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and circles around you. His eyes dance around the thin, red blanket, the array of fruits, and braided loaves by the wicker basket before trailing up your exposed legs. A shiver snakes around your curves. The way his eyes devour you makes you think he did not stumble upon this hideaway accidentally. Namjoon took extensive measures to ensure no one would. No, this man knows. He must. Why else would he not question your presence alone under the only tree? He accepts it, expects it.

Pushing your sticky arms around your breast, you attempt to somewhat conceal yourself and ask, “Are you a traveller?”

He shakes his head. The wind plays with his hair the moment the sun emerges behind heavy clouds. Its natural glow lights up his figure, in all its holy glory. Well-toned, pierceless, inkless, chiseled features are all too accurate to be human. He is pure. There is very little scarring on his skin as well. He looks down right angelic, prophetic, utterly godly.

Has Namjoon really entertained your fantasies? You first made the suggestion off hand, completely innocent in your phrasing, until his face fell. Stone fierce gaze slicing through your soul, you couldn’t help but describe an ocean’s worth of desires involving more than one man by your side. You were fucked to tears against the tree until it’s branches were bare and the ground was covered in ripe fruit and loose leaves. You thought that would be the end of it. But now, as you carefully stare at the god while he shamelessly sips on your near nakedness, you wonder just how wrong you might have been.

“Have you come to watch?”

“To worship.”

Your arousal slicks your thighs. Pressing your legs together, you suppress the giddy shivers that caress your spine. Though excited, you really can’t believe Namjoon did it. It was a joke but, scanning the sun god’s frame once more, you’re glad he didn’t take it that way. Face flushed, you lie back in your previous position. On your side, breasts on full display, you toss your hair aside. As your lips part to question the details of his intentions, you catch a familiar silhouette by the sea, in the distance. Flickering your gaze between the two men, you wonder if this new god was sent to test your loyalty or limits? The figure nods. You smile.

Attention returning to the golden god, you ask, “Apollo, is it?”

“Taehyung,” he corrects.

“Is that the name you prefer I scream?”

He pauses. Those mismatched eyes widen at your intrepidity. Dazed in confusion, he scans your frame once again, as if reprocessing your presence. He’s underestimated your wits, you realize, but the newfound understanding in his eyes reassures you that it won’t happen again. Good. He’s a quick learner.

Quirking a brow at the blanket beneath you, he asks, “May I?”

You nod once. He licks his lips twice, bites on the bottom one, then seats himself beside you. On his side, bare chest on display, he takes in the scenery from this new angle. Flowers bloom under a peachy dawn, and the vast fields of greenery wither to sandy shores where the sea waves as a way of greeting. His cocky stare lingers on your boyfriend before settling back to your little shrine underneath the orange tree. It’s a parthenon all on its own, with you as the center of its divinity. This detail seems to intrigue him more than it should, but you assume it might also have something to do with being watched.

Taking his hand in yours, you feel the dimming warmth of the setting sun. Who’s manning the chariot, you wonder, and would he be willing to let you ride it? Your bones tremble beneath your flesh at the impression of a distant growl. Oh, right. You almost forgot Ares can read your mind. Being something of a soulmate, he’s connected to you in ways other gods are not. Another growl slices through your thoughts. Jealousy sounds so good on him. Hearing his frustrations, knowing he’s enjoying the way you indulge, flusters the anxious bundle of nerves at your core.

Taehyung chuckles. Inches away now, his hot breath fans over your cheek. Fingers trailing up from your hand, along your arm then to your neck, he wraps his hand around your throat. He presses his thumb in the divet just under your chin, teasing a choke but never actually going through with it. You wonder what Namjoon must be hissing by the sea. What kind of curses is he throwing? Just picturing his furious eyes and cliffed jaw tickles the pit of your stomach.

“You’re precious,” Taehyung whispers, lips pressed against your chin. “I understand why he hides you from us.”

Us? Olympus knows of your blasphemous citrus temple? Usually, this kind of revelation would grant you a lightning bolt to the heart and an eternity in Tartarus. Only this wakes something different in Taehyung. His breath shallows, erection pokes at your thigh. He’s aroused by the idea of worshipping someone as powerless as a mortal. Or perhaps, you wonder as Taehyung nibbles on your skin, he simply adores displaying his power. Either or, you decide to make the most of what your Ares has granted you. Gaze finding his broad frame again, you let out an exaggerated gasp.

Namjoon flinches. However, it isn’t until you press your body against Taehyung’s that he cringes. He shifts his weight, fist clenched by his sides and you swear you can see steam hovering over his head. Namjoon is livid. But, Taehyung is oblivious. Too consumed by your pleasure, he tightens his grip on your throat and trails his open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts. Nipple between his teeth, Taehyung groans in hunger. Tongue teasing, he licks to play, not to soothe any of the stings. Your toes and legs hook around his waist. Hips rolling, you tease a preview of what you have in mind.

Taehyung shifts half an inch away though. You know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the gesture, the throb against your hip reassuring you just how much he would really enjoy it. It still hurts your pride, however. Twinges of humiliation taint your soft features. He offers half a smirk as a means of comfort.

“He told me you’ve got quite a mouth.”

Is that an excuse or explanation? In both cases, it’s weak. He traces your face, fingertips so soft you almost forget the indirect rejection. Charming, his tiger starved gaze reflects hints of amusement. You’re easy prey, a fact that crumbles your courage. He is not here to coddle your pride, to serve the goddess of this naturous parthenon, but rather to obliviate it. A pitiful pile of pleasure is all he wishes to make of you. Though, now you wonder, is he doing this because he wants to, or because he’s ordered to?

Eyes darting between Apollo and Ares, you swallow thickly. The wondrous glow in Taehyung’s gaze makes you pause. Perhaps you’ve been too hasty. Perhaps they were both counting on that. The humiliation returns ten fold and prickles your skin upon realizing how careless you have been. Too quick to show your keen interest in devouring a different dose of daylight, you did not make Taehyung work as hard as he should’ve. And knowing that must have been what Namjoon was expecting only festers your heart with anger. This isn’t an opportunity to indulge, you conclude, but to reprimand. The both of them want to sip on your submission. The role of a meek mortal amuses them more than it should. It turns you on more than it should. So, you pull away more than you should.

Laying back on your elbows, you redirect your gaze to the sky. You can feel both pairs of eyes studying you. Taehyung props himself up on his forearm and looks over at your suddenly calmed features. It’s almost as if you’ve never exchanged a word at all.

“Funny,” you restart, all cards hidden this time. “He never mentioned you.”

Angry, confused, perhaps both, Taehyung stares. He blink, blink, blinks before he fully registers what’s been said. You can feel Namjoon’s delight though. The pride he has in the way you sassed a rival resonates deep in your core.

As you shimmy out of your dress, Taehyung finally scoffs a chuckle. You attempt to ignore the way it lights your soul with desire and focus on Namjoon’s silhouette. He looks closer, lurking by the tall grass, though still near the sand. Fully naked, you try to school your features and pretend you don’t notice the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches while Taehyung’s falls slack. Your hands rests on Taehyung’s bare thigh long enough to make him shudder and your boyfriend growl. It’s almost all too easy to push Namjoon’s buttons. He hates it when you do something simply because you can.

“You abuse your power,” he always tells you.

And, with a smile, you always reply, “I don’t abuse anything, Joonie. You just can’t refuse it.”

Taehyung seems to prove this statement now, falling prey to the way you toy with him. Half focused, you’re paying enough attention to him to feel his frustration. Displeased with the way you have your eyes glued on the god of war, Taehyung huffs and inches closer.

“Do I need to plant you an orange tree?” he teases. Well, he attempts to anyways. The resentment in his tone seeps through instead.

You bite back a smirk. “You can try.”

His eyes flash with annoyance. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung raises a brow. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you can safely assume he’s highly debating it. His eyes shift around the tree the two of you currently lounge under. Sparing you a glance, he scoffs. Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s worth it, you wonder. It’s no matter to you. All it really means is more time spent frustrating him, teasing him beyond-

The ground crackles, splitting open with the presence of new roots. Bare branches rise and twist around the orange tree trunk. The deep green leaves sprout. Then, ripe figs bloom. They dangle closer to you than the oranges do. You don’t have much time to really admire them, however, as a loud rumble rattles your bones. The sound is enough to snap your fearful eyes to the seashore. Namjoon is gone.

Shit. Have you taken this too far? Namjoon did plant this tree for you. He had never so much so as looked at another mortal. His allegiance, devotion, and adoration has been declared to you on more than one occasion. You are all he ever sees, thinks, breathes. Swallowing thickly, you mentally call him back. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince him. A quiet hum from the other side of the line is enough to soothe your anxiety. You lean back into the other god.

Taehyung couldn’t be less concerned. Instead of searching for Namjoon, as you seem to be interested in doing, he latches his lips onto your shoulder, a single hand cupping your breast. You gasp. Taking this as an encouragement to continue, Taehyung trails a wet arrangement of open mouthed kisses along your neck. Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he hisses, “Quite a fucking mouth, indeed.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your breast and continues, “Might need some good dick to keep it in check.”

The thought is appealing. So much so, that you cannot help the way your eyes widen and glisten with interest. Having his cock shoved down your throat while he growls at the sheer sight of it alone has compelled your undivided attention. But, Namjoon’s rage still scratches at your bones, warning you against playing too much.

You scoff. “Who says I don’t already have that?”

Taehyung does not reply. Not a smirk graces his lips nor breath escapes him. He simply leans in for a kiss. You find yourself giving in all too quickly. He slides his hand down to cup the space between your thighs and you cannot find it within you to push it away. In fact, you spread your legs further apart and tell yourself it’s reactive. The jolt of your hips up into his hand though… that might’ve been calculative.

But the simple gesture of rolling your hips into his palm has shown all your cards once more. He reclaims the power, pulling away from the kiss and your sex. He clutches onto your hair, a deadpan expression the only means of emotion now. In huffing silence, he yanks on your hair, guiding your head down to his crotch. You hiss, the gesture proving more pleasurable than painful as you feel a fresh rush of your wetness further stain your legs.

His silk skirt, pinned up and hanging from his hip by an arrowed, gold pin, lies in a disarried pile beside him. His huge cock is all that stands before you. He’s thicker than Namjoon, but, even with its impressive length, it does not compare to your boyfriend’s size. Taehyung is massive, but Namjoon is monstrous.

Your mouth still salivates all the same. Tip oozing precum, Taehyung shoves your face against his balls. His thick scent rolls your tongue out. Heavy in lust, he mostly smells of lemons and cream. You’ve always adored citrus… Namjoon knows this well. And though you expected to feel your boyfriend’s anger at this revelation, all you feel on the other side is emptiness. You wonder where he’s gone.

Or, at least you attempt to wonder. The moment you feel the impression of Taehyung’s weighty balls against your lips, all your thoughts dissipate. You swirl your tongue around each one before dropping them in your mouth. Suckling, drool dripping, your enthusiasm cannot be hidden any longer. Moaning maniactically, your eyes roll back.

Taehyung gasps and hisses. The peak of his groans, however, surfaces when you wrap a hand around his thick cock. You were ready to start pumping until you realized a single hand barely even covers half of him. Both hands wrapped around his length now, you twist and drag them up and down. Every so often, you tighten your grip a bit and let out a throaty moan. He shudders each time, legs trembling from your attention.

On your knees, with your ass up high for any onlookers to easily see, the wind lashes at your heat. You squeal, then pull his balls out of your mouth to spit on his cock. The thick wad makes it easier to pump him. Brows furrowed, he runs a hand through his golden hair and shakily sighs… then his sight sets on something behind you. He smirks, white canines a dangerous nod to his power.

A familiar hand rests on the small of your back, the other landing a harsh smack on your ass. You scream and fall forward onto Taehyung, face fully buried in his cock now. He laughs heartily, running a hand through your hair as a weak excuse for comfort.

The hand behind you does not stop after one smack. It goes in for second, then third, and before you know it, your ass is burning with stings and pussy wetter than the ocean behind you. The pain ignites something viciously erotic, cradling your heart enough to make you whimper. It’s the idea of being used, you assume, and it only makes you perk your ass up higher.

His raspy scoff makes you shiver, spine tingling with excitement. He gropes onto your ass and grunts, “Don’t try to be a good girl now.”

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Namjoon uses this harsh grip to shove your face further against Taehyung’s crotch. He pulls back and tries again, making sure your mouth engulfs his friend’s cock this time.

“You want to suck his cock, huh? Then fucking suck, you little slut,” he growls.

Your face flames with embarrassment. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Taehyung’s gaze. He merely laughs through a moan, leaning back on his hands as he watches you choke on his cock. You really can’t take him all in one go; you haven’t even found a way to take Namjoon in a single motion. But, your boyfriend couldn’t care less. He pushes your head down and keeps it there. Your jaw aches, throat burns, contracting around Taehyung’s thickness enough to make him throw his head back. Tears spill and spill and you foolishly think this will be the height of his punishment.

Then, in he goes.

“Such a wet little bitch,” Namjoon hisses as he pushes his cock into your pussy.

You let out a strangled whine against Taehyung, much to his pleasure, and attempt to spread your legs, but Namjoon keeps them in place. They’re barely a hip’s length apart. The pain prickles against your pussy’s wall, making you gag a sob around Taehyung’s cock. The pressure of Namjoon’s huge dick behind you and the weight of Taehyung’s in your mouth trembles your posture. You shake under the intimidation and it doesn’t help at all that Taehyung’s dick is suffocating you.

Namjoon pulls your head up the moment he fully enters. Gasping, you try to catch your breath. You inhale deeply each time, worried Namjoon will shove you back down on Taehyung’s cock without warning. Instead, he gives you a quick moment to breathe, ramming in and out of you like he’s riding a stallion.

Taehyung, eyes half-lidded, admires the way you drool and babble all over yourself. You heave, holding his gaze long enough to realize he’s mocking you, tongue out and breathes exasperated. Then he laughs and Namjoon laughs, and your pride shrivels up. Dignity on the brink of shattering, you try to avoid his gaze, biting your lip to swallow your moans as Namjoon works his way in and out of you.

But Taehyung will not have any of that. He nudges your wet chin back to him and teasingly pouts. “Is baby embarrassed?” he asks, tone more menacing than that taunting gaze of his. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Cupping your chin, Taehyung squeezes your cheeks to pucker your lips. “Answer me,” he seethes.

Parting your lips, you’re about to confirm his statement when Namjoon grunts behind you. He thrusts his hips particularly harder this time and your balance crumbles. You fall over Taehyung. He catches you with his lips, his hand trailing from your face to your neck and gripping onto it like he owns it.

Namjoon is displeased. With a growl, he snaps his hips up, balls shoving their way in you too. Your teeth knock with Taehyung, causing him to grunt and glare at the god behind you. You watch him stare your boyfriend down while tightening his grip on your neck. He goes to say something, a curse judging by the placement of his lips in his teeth, but Namjoon pulls you out of his grasp before Taehyung can even get a syllable out.

Replacing Taehyung’s hand with his own on your neck, Namjoon pulls you back up against his chest. His other hand wraps around your waist. Lips to the shell of your ear, he hammers into you and whispers, “Don’t go forgetting who you belong to.”

You hold Taehyung’s hard stare. His face reddens, cheeks drawn into his mouth as he glares. You whimper, pouting and nodding to Namjoon, but neither one of them seems convinced. Taehyung’s brows raise as if you’ve given him some sort of sign, and Namjoon’s hissing warnings against getting carried away.

“Better not say his name.”

Out of sheer spite, you part your lips to utter the other’s name. However, the word is consequently pounded right out of your mind the moment it emerges. Neither god gives you another moment to develop a reply at all as they battle for your attention. A part of you wishes that each of them simply takes turns, but you already know how useless that would be. Neither one of them will be willing to wait and watch. Namjoon already slipped himself in, the act of watching being too distant for him.

And it seems to be the same for Taehyung as well. He can’t sit still, can’t just watch you get ravished by someone else. You catch the annoyed twinkle in his eye darkening every time Namjoon makes you scream. Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shifts so that he’s lying by your knees and pulls the plump, upper flesh of your pussy apart. Then, smirking, he dips his head in and enthusiastically sucks on your clit. Teeth grazing, he bites and nibbles, drawing the most high-pitched squeals out of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his face further against your pussy.

Namjoon huffs a groan against your cheek. Pounding in full force, he loosens his grip on you a bit. Your hips jolt forward, Taehyung’s teeth clamping down on your clit. You cry out, both hands back over Namjoon’s arm. The god by your knees did not escape unscathed either, his lips slightly bruised from the hit. He drags his gaze up to you, glare deadly.

Guts twisting in ecstasy and guilt, you whimper and shake your head. “Sorr-”

Your apology clinches in your throat as Namjoon tightens his grip on it. “Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” he grunts into your hair.

Taehyung catches onto Namjoon’s sly gesture quickly, hungry eyes aflame for vengeance. “Keep her still, or I’ll fuck her into the ground.” His deep voice tickles the swirling pit of your stomach. So rich and raspy, his dulcet voice guides you closer to your orgasm than you’d be brave enough to admit.

Subsequently, Taehyung relatches his lips to your clit. Namjoon swallows enough of his pride not to shake him off again. And you shudder as high doses of ecstasy creep over your nerves. It pumps your veins with excitement, anticipation and sheer joy. Even when they’ve mocked you and used you as a pocket pussy- a set of holes, you cannot deny how horny it makes you for them.

Namjoon huffs your name in your ear, whispering about your tightness, about how he knows how fucking close you are. “Baby is gonna cream,” he mockingly coos. “Do you want him to taste you? Are you that much of a slut, you want another man to taste you? He’ll get addicted.” Namjoon grunts thrice before continuing, “But you already know that, right? You want him addicted. You want him to worship that little cunt of yours, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” you screech. Whether it is in reply to his questions or simply a reaction to the dual assault of your pussy, you’re not quite certain. But, Namjoon is. And he’s irate. Shaking with anger, his pounds reach a pace unknown to gods, even Taehyung raises an impressed brow.

Your next intake of air cinches somewhere in your throat. You try to scream, to cry, to make some sort of sound as your cum rushes out of you. Gushing, slouching, your pussy makes enough noise that your mouth doesn’t need to. Both men fall victim to it - to you - anyway. Squirming in Namjoon’s hold, there’s very little you can do. Your mind is foggy, vision blurry, but it doesn’t stop either of them. A distant clash of throaty moans fill the fields, though you can’t register much of that either. Your ears are ringing too much to hear more than your own heartbeat struggling to keep up.

Taehyung growls, his hands constantly knocking against Namjoon’s. Your dazed gaze falls to meet his. Eyes blazed with sexual frustration, he claws at your hips and pulls you forward against him. Namjoon, however, keeps a strong hold on your waist. Your torso’s his for the taking. He grabs hold of your chin and whips your head back to him.

“You look at me when you cum,” he seethes. “Or you won’t cum at all next time.”

Half a breath escapes you in response, but it seems to be half a breath too late. Namjoon emits a raspy groan so sinister it would be a crime to simply call it a growl. He roars. You feel the vibrations of the sound in your spine, another dose of your cum rushing through you. Then, all too quickly, he lets go of you. It takes his hands off your chest for you to realize your legs gave out long ago. You instantly fall to your knees. Taehyung is quick to catch you in his arms. Lips inches apart, Taehyung looks ready to share some of his oxygen with you when Namjoon orders, “Turn her around.”

Taehyung glares over your head. Gulping, his lips twitch in a fake smile as he lifts you. You, however, cannot let him give in that easily. Besides, nothing is better than angering the god of war. His stubborn, victory-bound heart will not rest until you submit to him over Taehyung. And, throwing you into the enemy’s arms does not seem like he’s trying hard enough to win, to discipline you. So, after Taehyung turns you around in his lap, you press a passionate kiss upon his lips, slipping your tongue in for good measure. Taehyung snakes his hand between your legs too, fingers playing all too much for you to stay silent. Between kisses, you sneak a glance at Namjoon, finding Taehyung already doing the same thing.

Towering over you, skin inked, nipples pierced, muscles flexed and slick with sweat, Namjoon huffs. His jaw is locked, a gesture you’ve learned isn’t at all meant to be comforting. With his cheeks sucked in and a brow quirked, Namjoon jerks himself off to the sight of you so openly defiant.

“Open your dirty mouth,” Namjoon orders through gritted teeth. “I need to clean it out.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, his fingers ceasing their movements as he cups your sex instead. “So dramatic,” he teases, earning a cold stare from Namjoon.

You resist the urge to giggle, having to choose your battles carefully. Taehyung has already gotten too much attention anyways, you decide. Pushing his hand away from your pussy, you ignore the wet kisses Taehyung peppers upon the nape of your neck and gaze up at Namjoon with your mouth open.

He bites his lip to keep from smirking. And, with a loud, chest drawn groan, he releases his load all over your chin and breasts. The warmth of his cum sets your skin ablaze. It feels just as thick as it tastes. Licking around your face, you try to swallow whatever you can get. A little smile breaks out on Namjoon’s face, swelling your heart with pride.

However, Taehyung isn’t as moved by the gesture as you are. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls your head back against his shoulder. “That’s enough of that,” he breathes over your face. Then he wipes the rest of Namjoon’s cum off with the pad of his thumb and pecks your lips. He rubs the cum into your nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger.

You almost forget Namjoon's presence. That is, until he grabs hold of your ankles and yanks you right out of Taehyung’s hold. With a loud gasp, you’re on your back, legs spread and Namjoon at the center. He gazes lazily down at you, like handling your body is a casual passtime. There is something glittering within that suspicious ease, however. Something cocky, angry, and terrifying. Hand around your neck, Namjoon jerks you off the floor and shoves you back into Taehyung’s arms.

The golden god catches you with a grunt. He draws his brows together in confusion, silently questioning Namjoon. He parts his lips, but your boyfriend huffs, cutting him off. Namjoon grabs you by your bicep and turns you around to face Taehyung.

After making sure your legs are spread and straddling the other god’s waist, Namjoon seethes, “The simplest instructions.” His warm tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. Between nibbles he continues, “You can’t even follow the simplest instructions. That can’t be easily forgiven anymore, baby.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, considering he’s never punished you in this position before. Usually, being on top is a reward. He grants you a sliver of control, consequence free, when you’ve been well-behaved. This level of generosity is a rarity. However, as Namjoon pushes you further into Taehyung, with you wrapped around his torso, you begin to wonder what kind of punishment you’re in for, and which one of them is administering it.

Of course, these thoughts are fleeting as Taehyung’s fat cock prods around your pulsing hole. Sparks of bliss set to flames the nerves bunching around your clit. You shudder each time he brushes his tip against it. Petting your hair back just to grab it, Taehyung breathes a chuckle into the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks on your delicate skin like you belong to him. And for a split second, you almost think you do. The sweet, wet kisses and the way he eases into you only just has you forgetting that Namjoon is standing over you, watching as another god worships.

With a smack, your memories jolt back. The sting of both cheeks makes you all too aware of his presence now. You cry out, falling over Taehyung clumsily. The spank hit so hard, so fast that it even has Namjoon hissing from the impact. Even still, he smacks you again and again and again. “You still have no idea what you’ve asked for, do you?” he questions.

You thought you did. You hoped you did. But, as Namjoon spanks you with added force, you realize just how right he is. You whimper into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’s kept his cock warm in your tight, clenching hole when Namjoon begins to get vicious with his spanks. Chuckling and mocking you in whispers, Taehyung finds your suddenly all too obedient state entertaining. It flames your face with shame, your entire body caught between wanting another serving of cock or slaps. He imitates your whimpers, coaxing more tears out of you before hissing, “If you had any real shame, you’d get off my cock and go suck your boyfriend’s.”

“She’s a fucking slut,” Namjoon answers, landing another slap to your tenders cheeks. “Why’d you stop fucking her?”

Some humanity flashes in Taehyung’s eyes as you nuzzle your face against his. He mutters something incoherent, along the lines of, “She can’t handle it.”

“She can!” Namjoon grunts as he finally rubs your pain buzzed ass. A shaky whine escapes you and tickles Taehyung’s ear. “You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, digging his nails into your flesh.

You whine in agreement. It’s not enough. He needs to hear you say- scream it. Grabbing a handful of your hair, he peels you off Taehyung enough for him to get a good look at your face. He folds his hands under his head, smirking at the sight of you so shattered by pleasure of being in pain. Face flushed, wet, cum stained and eyes innocent, your features fold in raptured anguish.

Namjoon roughly kneads your right cheek while pressing the length of his cock against it. “Can you take the fucking like a good girl?” He mockingly coos. It juts a chorus of shivers down your spine.

You squeeze tight around Taehyung at the thought. He rasps your name. Namjoon growls lowly, rubbing himself against you as he warns, “You’re not gonna make me ask you a third time, are you?”

Taehyung shifts his hips, cinching your breath at your throat from the stroke of friction. Why did he have to be so big, so pretty and hot staring at you like that? Why’d you have to go tempting gods you know you can’t keep up with? You regret angering Namjoon, realizing that jealousy is the worst power trip you can feed a god. They both want to watch you fall apart, crumble into a pile of bones. Tears spill at the thought, pussy aching around a cock too big to adjust to. Every nerve feels so sensitive, so overused, yet you need to cum again.

No. You can’t take it. But, you’ll be damned if you tell either of them that. And as Namjoon lays another sharp smack on your cheeks, tingling with pain, you circle your hips around Taehyung’s and cry out a broken, breathy and utterly desperate, “Y-es!”

Taehyung grips onto your hips, pulling you half out. You expect to be plunged onto his cock with a new degree of force, but find another one attempting to squeeze in as well. Namjoon’s monster cock pushing into your pussy alongside Taehyung’s. Your jaw drops, eyes roll back as that viciously delicious stretch strangles your soul with bliss. He enters you slow, but sharp, knowing full well that the both of them cannot fit.

Neither cares. Both gods create a quickly speeding rhythm of thrusts into you. Body jolting forwards, breasts shaking over Taehyung’s face and ass bouncing against Namjoon’s hips. He hunches over you to groan your name in your ear, voice husky with lust and dominance. He repeats the word like a prayer. Every syllable drips slow out of his lips like thick molasses when his voice reaches such depth.

You try to lean back into him, but Taehyung keeps you in place with the tight grip on your hips. “Stay still,” he grunts against your nipple. Then, he sucks on it, teasing the little nub between his teeth.

You moan a little too loud at Taehyung’s ministrations for Namjoon’s liking. Both hands locked on your ass, Namjoon pushing your cheek up and against Taehyung. You lose whatever balance you had weighted on your arms, falling flat against the sun god with a squeal. His cock fully plugs into you and when he tries to thrust up against you once more, Namjoon growls, “Both of you stay still.”

A shiver tickles your spine with the wind. As Taehyung kisses your neck, you attempt to sneak a peek at your boyfriend over your shoulder and push your ass back into him. He’s sweaty and huffing. The peachy sunset behind him halos around his muscular frame. He’s so pretty when he’s mad, all those veins lacing his inked skin like little spider webs. His gaze finds yours, that annoyed look intensifying in his eyes when you wink at him.

And though it was completely innocent, it still switches something off in Namjoon. He shifts his tight grip on your ass to the small of your back then, all at once, presses down onto it with the entirety of his strength. A series of loud cracks elicit from your spine like the fire of a gun at the start of a race. And away go his hips as he rams in and out of your too full pussy.

Screams and sudden sobs pour out of you and onto Taehyung as the both of you get shaken by Namjoon’s force. You know your back isn’t broken, blown out maybe, but definitely not broken. You just didn’t think this would be the result of his jealousy and anger. Did he think you were mocking him with that wink, with Taehyung? Perhaps some mocking did occur with Taehyung around, but he’s always liked your snarkier side. He tells you to behave because he knows you won’t and adores it when you don’t. But, maybe you did take it too far, and give into Taehyung too much. You really wish you can say, with all this overstimulating and teasing and taunting, that you regret it all.

Only, you don’t.

Clutching tighter onto Taehyung’s shoulders, your tears fall as freely as your broken moans. Namjoon smacks his hips over your ass, pounding your pussy like it’s just you two here. It’s not as though Taehyung is lying under you, obsessing over how tight you are and just how amazing you smell.

“You know why he’s so mad right,” he questions quietly, voice strained. When you shake your head, he chuckles and whispers, “Because he knows how much better I make you feel.”

The whimper that leaves you was by no means a response to whatever Taehyung was going on about. Though he gives it to you great, he doesn’t compare to your boyfriend. You suppose Namjoon knows this too, somewhere within that deep connection you two share. Still, he holds you further down against Taehyung, practically melding your body into his, and thrusts at an ungodly speed just as he did when he caught you sucking Taehyung’s cock.

You’re not sure either of them understand the load of pleasure they are washing over you. Taehyung has his giant cock stationed in your pussy with his tip pressing continuously against your g-spot as Namjoon’s monstrous cock jabs at it again and again.

Body trembling, voice broken, you squeal, “I’m- ahhgh I’m gon-na cuu-uum.”

“Me too,” Taehyung husks in your ear. It has you clenching tighter.

Namjoon scoffs through a moan. “No, you’re fucking not.”

“But, Joon-”

A harsh smack against your ass silences your protests. “You know what to do when you’re close,” he grunts.

Yes, you do. But there isn’t much time to beg. You have two huge cocks in you and if he thinks he can coax some sort of plea-

“Fuck,” you cry as he spanks you again.

“ASK!” he roars, hands on your back just to make it crack all over again.

Drooling, whimpering, eyes rolling, you somehow find it in you to hold back your orgasm long enough to beg, “Please, fuck, just let me cum! Please, please, Namjoon!”

“Just fucking let her cum,” Taehyung grunts.

Namjoon snakes one of his hands up your spine, hips still ramming into you all the same, and latching onto your hair. Slowly, he peels you off of Taehyung and holds you against his chest. You screw your eyes shut in an attempt not to cream both their cocks.

With his lips at your ear, he whispers, “Look down at him.” After forcing your eyes open and down at Taehyung, who looks all too pleased with your ruined state, Namjoon orders, “Thank him for a good time.”

Panting, lips a spitty mess, you whimper, “Thank you for a good time.”

Taehyung rubs your thighs. “She’s just as fun when she’s a good girl,” he hisses to himself.

Namjoon chuckles, wrapping his free hand around your throat. “You’re my best girl either way,” he whispers to you. The praise makes you shiver, your orgasm almost slipping right out of your control.

“Please let me cum now,” you cry. “Please, I need it.”

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Namjoon peppers little kisses along your jawline. “Shall we all cum together?” he asks before nodding to Taehyung. The sun god’s hips jolt back to act and soon each one is back to taking turns to smash your already too sensitive spot.

You nod energetically. Truthfully, you don’t care if either one of them cums, just as long as they let you do it now.

Taehyung shifts one of his hands further up your hips, his thumb working fast and small circles over your clit. You’re quaking, head thrown back against Namjoon’s shoulders, eyes rolling and screwed shut when Namjoon orders you to look at him. You force them open enough to watch a wicked swirl of power and lust gleam in his eyes. With a single breath, lips hovering over yours, he whispers, “Cum.”

Your vision spots black before failing all together as an extreme dose of ecstasy floods your senses. Their growls collide with your breathless screams in a cacophony of pleasure with each shot of cum they fill you with. And you return the favour, coating each cock with more cum than you think you’ve ever offered. In and out, they still go, desperate to leave you dripping with the impression of both of them for days.

Namjoon spits in your mouth a bit and chuckles quietly when you still find it in you to swallow it. “You just had to be a fucking brat, hmm?” he groans as both his and Taehyung’s thrusts slow down. “Are you satisfied now?”

You hear his words and think that maybe you are processing them, but you really can’t find enough of your voice or energy to respond. Heaving, you know your body gave out well before he even got you in this position and blew your back out. You don’t even realize that you’re slobbering all over yourself until Namjoon licks it all away. Only little whimpers and whines manage to reply to him. It only strengthens that power blown look in his eyes.

Taehyung suddenly pulls himself out of you. Or rather, Namjoon pulls you up and off his cock. Then, he stands up on his knees and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, despite Namjoon’s annoyed groan. “And thank you for such a great evening, my-”

“She’s not yours!”

You watch through somewhat blurry vision as the two gods glare at each other. Taehyung then glances over at the fig vines laced around the orange tree. With a smirk, he nods. His hands fondle your breast one more time before he grabs what little clothes he came with. Then, with the sun, he’s gone.

Basking in the glow of the moon, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you. His touches are now all too gentle to even register, or maybe your skin is simply still on fire from such a rough fucking. Either way, he’s careful in how he handles you now. Cradling you to his chest, he helps you lay down. He kisses your forehead and mutters, “Take a deep breath.”

You do so. Again and again. When you’re breathing somewhat regulates, your mind finally catches up with where you are now. Resting in Namjoon’s arms, his silk skirt draped over your body like a blanket, you gaze up at the stars.

“He planted figs,” Namjoon mutters.

You shift against his chest before shrugging. “He did.” You’re not sure why that simple detail seems to tick him off so much. They’re just figs.

“Do you still like oranges though?”

It suddenly clicks in your head. His anger translating into worry. Does he really think that you’d give him up for Taehyung? He should know you well enough to know he’s your world. And if you weren’t so sore or weak, you would have gotten up and picked the ripest orange and shared it with him. Instead, you turn in his lap, suppressing the urge to hiss at the sparks of pain running up and down your back, and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love oranges.”

He fights off a smile, but relief reflects in his gaze. “I’m sure they love you too,” he mutters like he hasn’t told you so before.

It all doesn’t matter too much anyways. He’s yours and you’re his. No other god, no matter how many times they stop by, will change that. This is, after all, your orange tree.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

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dreadfutures · 2 years

Text

Fluffuary#2 - Long Convserations

Racing under the finish line.

Rating: G

Pairing: Sebastian Vael x Ixchel Lavellan (post-Bloodied & Broken)

-:-:-

Varric suspects they have been having the same conversation since the day they met.

The Seeker had told him all about it, though she had not realized at the time all of its significance. But Varric had. After all, Ixchel Lavellan reminded him of Garrett; that she would come to love Sebastian Vael in a strange, stubborn way was not surprising. Chuckles and Champ--what a pair--both desperately needed to know there were people out there willing to listen, and do the hard work of self-reflection, and change themselves to better the world. Those were the people who always mattered the most, not dragon slayers or monster hunters or moneybags or prophets.

The difference between Ixchel and Garrett, of course, is that Sebastian stopped talking to Hawke a long time ago.

That doesn't mean Sebastian ever stopped listening to the Champion. Ixchel would never have found an audience in him if not for the questions Garrett raised so long ago. Varric feels a little sorry, but Hawke has bigger fish to fry, these days, and he has Fenris, anyway.

Some thought the friendship between the Prince of Starkhaven and the former Inquisitor seemed unlikely, but Varric had it all figured out from Day One. He often wondered who would win out in the end. Or, rather, whose ego would break, and whose stubbornness would yield, in the face of the gentle empathy and active listening of their companion. That, he supposed, was just a matter of time. But the only thing he couldn't decide was whether Sebastian and Ixchel had the same conversation over and over again, every time they met or wrote--or if each was but another installment in one long conversation, evolving over years.

It bothered him a little that he didn't know the answer. So, one night, after Ixchel and Sebastian had been seen sitting in the smoking room by the fire talking for hours in absence from the Varric's own party, Varric walked Ixchel to her rooms and asked, "What do you and Choir-Boy have to talk about all the time?"

"Jealous?" Ixchel teased, then yawned. A Kirkwall party wasn't rightfully over until dawn, but they were all getting a little too old for that. "I don't know, Varric. Plenty. His daughter's lessons. Our predictions for the next Grand Tourney. Tax law..."

"Tax law?" Varric repeated, incredulous. "No debates about divine mandates and dangerous magics or destiny? I'm shocked, Champ. Shocked."

Ixchel wrinkled her nose and leaned against the door jam. "He doesn't need to talk to me about those things," she replied with a small smile. "We spoke at length, once, saw merit in each other's arguments, and...moved on. He grew on his own, and I grew on my own."

Varric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "He always was the...proactive type," he supposed.

"He took me seriously, when he had no reason to," Ixchel replied, suddenly more grave. "He put in the hard work to examine himself and the world around him." She gave a shrug with one shoulder. "And I like the man he became. Why would I question it?"

"Because we both know you like the sound of your own voice," Varric teased, "almost as much as you like the sound of his."

Ixchel snorted. "Must be a Marcher thing," she said flippantly. "Good night, Varric. It's late, and I do have an appointment to finish my conversation with Prince Vael in the morning, after all."

She chuckled and reached for the door--but then something occurred to Varric, and he couldn't keep it to himself.

"You know, he has really shaped up over the years," he told Ixchel. "I've seen a lot of improvements, I can't lie. If that's your doing, I shan't keep you."

Ixchel smiled. "I don't think it matters whose influence it is, Varric. Because like I said...he did the work himself."

"Alright, alright," Varric replied. "I'll leave you to your dreaming, or whatever it is you do. Night, Champ."

"Goodnight, Varric."

#one wild and precious life #varric tethras #fluffuary2022 #ixchel lavellan #sebastian x lavellan

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thelazyhermits · 3 years

Text

Y’all I just thought of an awesome TABF AU. I’ll talk about it underneath the cut.

So, y’all remember what I told y’all about Fortune’s past before getting involved with the underworld? Aka her parents died and none of her relatives wanted her cause they thought she was cursed for predicting her parents’ deaths which led to her cousin selling her to pay off a debt?

Well, I just had a fun thought which led to this AU. Instead of ending up with a cousin who sells her off to the underworld, Fortune ends up with a nice elderly lady, who’s a relative of hers, who doesn’t think it’s fair how everyone else in the family has been treating Fortune. She doesn’t have any kids of her own and isn’t married, so she takes Fortune in after her parents die in hopes of providing a good home for her.

Here’s the kicker. The relative lives in the same neighborhood as Midoriya and Bakugou.

Yes, that’s right, folks. I’m talking about a childhood friends AU cause what could be better than that?

Since Fortune is three/almost four when her parents die, Midoriya and Bakugou are just babies at the time she moves in with her relative. Because of that age gap, she doesn’t really hang out with them at first even when they get older.

Plus, she’s the type of kid who keeps to herself due to her parents’ deaths which she blames herself for. Since she sees herself as cursed, she thinks it’s better not to get too close to anyone.

That all changes when she first sees Bakugou and his friends picking on Midoriya. Before she even realizes what she’s doing, she’s running over toward the boys and gets in between them to protect Midoriya.

Bakguou’s friends immediately start backing off cause this is a girl they’re dealing with, an older girl at that. Bakugou, however, stands his ground cause he doesn’t back down from any challenge.

Bakugou recognizes Fortune as the weird girl in the neighborhood who doesn’t have any friends and is rumored to be cursed. Being the brat that he is, he brings that up, thinking she’ll back down once he does.

Surprisingly enough, Fortune doesn’t. While his cruel words hurt, they also make her surprisingly irritated.

It’s because he’s the first person to be so openly rude to her. All the other people would just talk about her behind her back, so she’s not used to guys like Bakugou.

In the end, Bakugou’s words have the opposite effect than he intended since they cause all the negative emotions Fortune has been suppressing to finally overflow. She finally hits her breaking point.

As a result, the two end up butting heads which eventually leads to them brawling. Even though Fortune has never been prone to violence up until this point, she’s fighting as hard as she can cause she’s stubborn as hell and does not want to lose to this kid.

Surprisingly enough, despite her inexperience, Fortune doesn’t do a half bad job at fighting. She’s able to hold her own pretty decently, which is a first when it comes to people going up against Bakugou since he’s used to beating anyone who challenges him.

Eventually, Midoriya is able to break up the fight when he points out how late it has gotten and how Bakugou’s mom will coming looking for him soon, which Bakugou obviously wants to avoid.

As a result, no clear winner is decided, which Bakugou is obviously displeased about.

That’s why he’s quick to say he’ll be coming back for a rematch the next time he sees Fortune. After that, he leaves the playground on his own since his friends ran off when the brawl started out of fear of getting in trouble for messing with an older girl.

The only ones left are Fortune and Midoriya who both ask each other at the same time if the other is alright, much to their surprise.

Thankfully, Fortune isn’t too bad off, but Midoriya still wants her to come home with him so she can get her scrapes treated.

Fortune is surprised that he’s showing so much concern on her behalf considering he must know who she is. After all, this isn’t the first time the two have seen each other due to the neighborhood being small.

Midoriya tells her that he doesn’t think she’s cursed or a bad person. There’s no way she could be when she was kind enough to defend him. He thinks she’s amazing for standing up to Bakugou the way she did.

He’s the first person other than the relative who took her in to ever say that to Fortune, so she’s incredibly moved by his words and quick acceptance of her.

Even though his words won’t change what happened in the past, they do give her some hope for the future.

Ever since that day, Fortune and Midoriya have been good friends who support each other through thick and thin. You can hardly find one without the other outside of school due to how close they’ve become.

Since she’s older, Midoriya using “nee-chan” at the end of her name, which Fortune finds absolutely adorable. She loves to dote on him like he’s her real little brother.

Another figure that’s often seen around those two is Bakugou because he’s always challenging Fortune to rematches, which she always accepts.

At first, Fortune and Bakugou can’t stand each other, but as time passes, that changes as they start to learn more about each other.

Thanks to Fortune, Bakugou learns early on how his treatment of Midoriya is unacceptable and puts an end to the bullying once Fortune gets through that thick skull of his and helps him get through all those negative feelings of his.

Brawling is still the norm for them, but there’s never any animosity involved. They’re just two stubborn individuals who hate to lose and want to keep getting stronger so the other won’t get ahead of them.

So, they’re friends but won’t openly admit it. They’re quick to butt heads but will just as easily throw down with anyone messing with the other.

Over the next few years, those three become quite close, which leads to Fortune eventually telling the boys about what happened to her parents.

Naturally, neither of them think she’s to blame for what happened, and they’re both upset that so many of her relatives treated her like a curse.

Their acceptance means the world to her and helps her to finally put those doubts she’s been harboring behind her so she can finally move forward with her life.

After that, the three become closer than ever, which is why the boys take it so hard when things eventually go south.

When she’s ten years old, Fortune gets kidnapped by a man related to the underworld who saw her one day brawling with Bakugou. He thought she’d be perfect for cage fighting and would be a real hit with the crowd.

The reason he decided to target her instead of Bakugou is because, according to his research, the only person who would bother looking for her is her old relative who really can’t do much.

Naturally, he was wrong.

When Midoriya and Bakugou find out that Fortune has vanished, they tear through the town looking for her, ignoring all the adults who tell them to leave this matter to the police and heroes.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard and long they look, the boys never find her.

However, Midoriya and Bakugou both refuse to give up. Instead, they swear to find Fortune one day which is why they become even more determined to become heroes.

Another side effect of that day is that the boys become protective of each other since you never know when something else might happen. Bakugou especially becomes overprotective since Midoriya is Quirkless and nowhere near as good at fighting as him or Fortune.

Despite Midoriya’s Quirklessness, Bakugou doesn’t ridicule his dream of becoming a hero. He just tells Midoriya that he’ll have to play things smart if he really wants to become a hero ergo Midoriya will need a plan and will need to train like crazy, which is exactly what they both do.

During the next nine years, while the boys are training to become heroes, Fortune is in the underworld forced to fight as The Prophet like in TABF canon. Unlike in TABF canon, Fortune often tries to escape the underworld because she knows she has people who are waiting for her back home, but unfortunately, all her escape attempts are foiled.

To make matters worse, she learns thanks to her Quirk that her relative who took her in dies a year after her kidnapping. Her grief was just too much for her old heart.

In the end, the only thing that keeps Fortune going during those long, hard years is the visions she gets of Midoriya and Bakugou. When she sees how they haven’t given up on finding her, it makes her want to keep fighting, so that she can one day see them again.

Thankfully, things finally turn around when Fortune confronts Tokumei about the USJ attack which leads to him sending her to UA and erasing her memories. Fortunately, the memories of her visions related to Midoriya and Bakugou don’t get erased, so she remembers who they are.

Although, she doesn’t remember what happened to her or how exactly she came to know them. She just knows that they’re important to her and that they’ve been looking for her.

That’s why after it’s decided that Fortune will be Aizawa’s TA she asks if a meeting could be held with Midoriya and Bakugou before class starts on her first day as a TA since she has a feeling they’ll recognize her as soon as they see her which would cause a big scene if their reunion happens when she walks into the classroom.

Since this is a chance to get more information on her, Aizawa and Nedzu agree to her request. Thankfully, Midoriya and Bakugou get to school early that day, so there’s no issue with getting them to come to the principal’s office before homeroom.

Bakugou is suspicious about the whole situation while Midoriya is worried that they did something wrong since why else would they be summoned to the principal’s office?

Once the boys are brought into Nedzu’s office, Nedzu explains how someone had wanted to see them before classes begin. This prompts Fortune to move out of the chair she had been sitting in which kept her hidden from view since the chair was facing Nedzu’s desk with its back to the door.

As expected, Midoriya and Bakugou are shocked when they see Fortune. They recognize who she is immediately.

Once the shock wears off, Midoriya promptly bursts into tears and rushes forward to hug Fortune. She’s quick to return the hug since she’s just as happy to see him.

Meanwhile, Bakugou is checking her over to make sure she’s real and really alright as he demands answers for what the hell is going on.

This leads to the adults explaining what happened the previous day and Fortune’s memory loss. Naturally, neither of the boys are happy about this information, Bakugou especially.

Unfortunately, the boys aren’t able to provide a lot of useful information about Fortune since all they know about are the years they spent with her.

When Nedzu asks if there are any relatives that they can contact on Fortune’s behalf, Bakugou quickly tells him that he and Midoriya are the closest thing she has to family and to not bother looking for anyone else.

As a result, Fortune’s overall situation doesn’t change. She still ends up temporarily staying with Aizawa, even though Bakugou and Midoriya do try to convince Aizawa to let her come home with them since their homes have guest rooms she can use.

Aizawa vetoes the idea since the lack of information on Fortune’s past worries him, and he thinks it would be safer if she remained where he could keep a close eye on her. Although, he’s not as suspcious of her now that he has more information about her situation.

Bakugou is naturally not very pleased about this because he takes this to mean that he’s considered not strong enough to keep an eye on her. However, he thankfully doesn’t try to argue with Aizawa about the matter.

Once that’s settled, Aizawa asks the boys to treat Fortune like they would a regular teacher since otherwise that would earn a lot of questions from the other kids. The boys agree since they don’t want to cause trouble for Fortune.

So, they treat her much like they do in TABF canon. Although, they’re obviously more comfortable around her and closer to her due to their shared childhood.

For the most part, things from that point on happen like they do in TABF canon just with some changes here and there to account for Midoriya’s & Bakugou’s improved relationship and their relationship with Fortune.

Naturally, Midoriya and Bakugou are even more protective of Fortune in this AU than they are in TABF canon. They’ve lost her once, and they have no intention to allow that to happen again.

Unfortunately for them, things won’t be easy for them.

#TABF AU #I'm a sucker for a good childhood friends AU #it's like another version of the found family trope #my kinda content #I just think it would be really cute #if those three grew up together #even if was only for just a handful of years #the boys' protectiveness would be through the roof #of course fortune would feel the same way about them

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i-know-my-value-darling · 4 years

Photo

Supernatural stars reflect on the show's undying legacy

Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Misha Collins discuss 15 years of fantasy, family, and flannel.

"We only get one shot at this." Sam and Dean Winchester are surrounded. The monster-hunting brothers are standing on the edge of a cliff. They look to Castiel, their brother in arms — or is it wings? — but even he can’t help. One move in the wrong direction could ruin everything. After years of fighting demons, going toe-to- toe with Satan himself, and saving the world multiple times, they once again find themselves in a position of having to perform under pressure. But this situation is unlike anything they’ve ever dealt with before. All eyes are on them as they have one shot…at getting the perfect picture.

It’s a dry, hot August day in Malibu — when people were still allowed to gather outside — as Supernatural stars Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins prepare for the last setup of their final Entertainment Weekly cover shoot. With a bottle of champagne in each of their hands, Ackles once again reminds them they get “one shot” to do this right. But if their characters can shoulder the weight of the world, surely these three can handle a photo. Read the whole story below

The champagne soaking is meant to be a celebration of 15 years, of making television history. Supernatural, the story of two brothers destined to save the world, is the longest-running genre show in the history of American broadcast television. (So old, the first three seasons shot on this thing called film.) What started as an underdog story, living its first few years on the verge of cancellation, has become an institution, a milestone to which other shows aspire. Supernatural not only survived the move from The WB to The CW after its first season — it’s now the final WB show left standing — but became the backbone of the now highly successful CW network. Over the years, the sci-fi series has aired on every weeknight, helping to launch shows including Arrow and The Vampire Diaries. The network moved it one final time, most recently, to Mondays, to help Roswell, New Mexico expand its audience. “Supernatural is a major link to many of the shows that we have successfully built to market,” The CW’s chairman and CEO Mark Pedowitz says. “Almost every one of our shows has had it as a lead-out or a lead-in.”

And to think, it all started as a promise to bring horror to television. After Supernatural creator Eric Kripke had finished working with Warner Bros. on 2003’s Tarzan series, he pitched the idea of a reporter who travels around hunting urban legends. As he puts it, it was a Kolchak: The Night Stalker rip-off. But when he realized the story would benefit from having brothers at its core, he started writing. “At the time, The Ring and The Grudge were huge hits in theaters,” Kripke remembers. “We said, ‘We’re going to take that experience and we’re going to put it on TV,’ and the initial goal was to be scary.” After Warner Bros. passed on his first, what he calls “uptight,” draft, Kripke had to reassess the kind of show he was creating. “I canceled all my Christmas plans and wrote that second draft in three weeks,” he says. “That was when the show got its sense of humor, because I was locked alone, over winter break, in my office. I couldn’t do anything fun, so I started entertaining myself.”

The show was still scary, but it was also funny and, over the years, would continue to evolve. Sure, you could say it’s a little bit X-Files — in its early days, the show often used the line “The X-Files meets Route 66” — and there were definite Star Wars influences (Sam and Dean were originally based on Luke Skywalker and Han Solo). But no combination of pop culture is going to perfectly describe Supernatural because the show has managed to do something remarkably rare in the age of peak TV, where audiences are so overwhelmed with content that an original idea seems foreign: It’s created a truly one-of- a-kind experience.

For starters, it’s a show about two flannel-wearing, beer-loving, blue-collar dudes from Kansas who for a good chunk of their lives traveled from cheap motel to cheap motel, paying for gas and greasy diner food with a mix of fake credit cards and money they earned scamming people at the pool table. “Almost all television is about rich people or, at the very least, middle-class people,” co-showrunner Andrew Dabb says. “The fact that we’ve been able to take this Midwestern blue-collar approach to this genre feels like we’re breaking the mold.”

But the mold-breaking didn’t stop there. Supernatural might’ve started out as a horror show with some snarky one-liners, but it evolved into some of the boldest, most experimental (and certainly strangest) stories on the small screen. “We’re a show of big swings,” co-showrunner Robert Singer says. “I used to say, with every idea, ‘This will be a home run or they’ll cancel us,’ but every year we wanted to do something really nuts." And when he says nuts, we’re not just talking about the episode with the talking teddy bear or the murderer targeting imaginary friends. Those are just some standard monsters of the week. We’re talking about the black-and-white episode shot like a classic Hollywood monster movie, or the episode that introduced Chuck (Rob Benedict), a prophet — who’d later reveal himself to be God — who was famous for writing a book series called Supernatural. That, of course, led to Sam and Dean attending a Supernatural fan convention as the show continued to redefine what it meant to inject a series with meta humor. And the swings never stopped. Season 13 featured a Scooby-Doo crossover as an animated Sam, Dean, and Castiel solved a case alongside the Mystery Inc. gang. And in season 14, after giving God a sister a few years prior, the show made the Big Man Himself its final villain. “I don’t think any idea, barring some production concerns, has been viewed as too crazy,” Dabb says. “Because we know that our fans are smart and that they’ll follow these guys anywhere.”

So long as each episode features Sam and Dean — and the occasional heartfelt talk on the hood of the Impala — the show can do just about anything, which is another reason Kripke had to rewrite his first draft of the pilot. Originally, Dean was the only brother who knew about monsters growing up, bringing Sam up to speed later in life. It wasn’t until Kripke figured out that they needed to be in this together that the series snapped into place. Because at the end of it all, they’re two brothers bonded by the loss of their mother and a life spent on the road with an absentee father. (It just so happens that their mother was killed by a demon and their father hunted them.) The familial dynamic — the irrational codependency, as the angel Zachariah (Kurt Fuller) once called it — is the most important part of the show. “The first inkling I had that we had something special was shooting the pilot,” Kripke says. “It was the scene on the bridge when Sam and Dean talk about their mother. It was the first time that you really saw their chemistry and their connection as brothers on full display. Because I’ve always said this show begins and ends with whether you believe that sibling relationship.” But Sam and Dean weren’t just the center of the show. For many years, they were the show.

Supernatural has never been an ensemble drama. For the first 82 hours of the series, Ackles and Padalecki were the only long-running series regulars — Katie Cassidy and Lauren Cohan briefly joined for season 3, appearing in 12 episodes combined. But Sam and Dean weren’t just in every episode; they anchored every episode. (They skipped table reads because there would’ve been only two actors there.) “I had many moments of not only questioning, ‘Can I keep this up?’ but an answer of ‘I cannot keep this up,’ ” Padalecki, 37, who’s been vocal about his struggle in the early seasons, says. “I borrowed strength from Jensen.” But even Ackles, 42, admits it was a tough job. “The 23-episode seasons were nine and a half months of filming,” he adds. “It was a lot of work, but I always came back to: I still enjoy it, I still like telling the story, I still like these characters and the people I work with.”

Not only did the guys stick around, they built a reputation of having created one of the warmest sets in the business, with a number of crew members staying with the production all 15 seasons. It all dates back to a talk Kripke had with his stars during the filming of the series’ second episode. “I said, ‘The show is about your two characters, and with that comes this responsibility,’ ” Kripke says. Padalecki remembers the exact setting of what he calls their “Good Will Hunting moment,” a bench in Stanley Park in Vancouver, where they film. It was a chat both actors took to heart. “We’d both been on other sets,” Ackles says. “We knew we wanted to enjoy it, to have fun with our crew; we wanted them to like us and us to like them and to have fun doing what we do.” It’s an attitude Pedowitz hopes bleeds into other CW shows, an attitude that launched an annual tradition where the CW chairman/CEO takes his new casts out to dinner with the Supernatural guys, a chance for the vets to share advice. “It’s always the most flattering situation,” Padalecki says, recalling a moment he had a few years back with the late Luke Perry, who was a part of the Riverdale cast. “Luke was sitting next to me and he was like, ‘What y’all have done and what we hear about you guys, it’s really cool to be associated with y’all in some way, shape, or form,’” he recalls. “And I’m sitting there pinching myself.”

It’s a behind-the-scenes legacy that’s perhaps just as impressive, if not more so, than the onscreen legacy. Collins, 45, who started as a guest star and the show’s first angel in season 4, has become the show’s third-longest-running series regular, and he still remembers walking onto set his first day. “When you’re coming onto a show as a guest star, it can be a little bit nerve-racking,” Collins says. “Coming to this set, it was an immediately different vibe. Think- ing about working on other shows in the future, that’s something that I aspire to bring with me.”

A similar reputation extends to the fans as well. Not only is the #SPNFamily one of the most dedicated fandoms out there, it’s also known to be a pretty nice one. (Not many fandoms can say they’ve helped launch a crisis support network for their fellow fans.) But their dedication isn’t just about seeing what crazy twist God throws at Team Free Will next. Thanks to fan conventions and social media, the viewers are just as invested in the lives of the actors. Supernatural’s not just about the words on the page, it’s about the actors saying them. “When you’re dealing with the public taste, there’s an alchemy of great writing, a great idea, and the close-up that’s required,” Peter Roth, chairman of Warner Bros. Television Group, says. “You need stars who you want in your living room.” And you need stars who want to be in your living room, and who, even after 15 years, care so deeply that they get emotional while taking photos in Malibu.

"It's going to be a long eight months," Ackles declares. Standing on that same ledge, an hour before the champagne shot, Ackles, Padalecki, and Collins walk away from a group hug after unexpectedly starting to tear up. It might be the setting — looking out over the ocean — or the occasion: their last-ever photo shoot. Or maybe it’s the fact that they’re almost a month into filming their final season.

It had been a question posed to the stars for years: How long will this show continue? How long can it continue? “Even my mom and dad were like, ‘When are you going to be done with this?’” Ackles says with a laugh. It was a decision the network and studio had ultimately put into the actors’ hands, and it was a conversation they’d been having for a while. Back in 2016, Padalecki told EW, “If we don’t make it to [episode] 300, I think Ackles and I will both be truly bummed.” But in season 14, they hit 300…and then kept going. While filming episode 307, they announced the upcoming 15th season would be the end, which will bring them to a total of 327 episodes when all is said and done. “[Jared] and I were always married to the fact that we never wanted to go out with a diet version of what we had,” Ackles says. “We wanted to have enough gas left in the tank to get us racing across the finish line. We didn’t want to limp across.” Padalecki remembers the moment it hit him — not the decision to end it, but rather the opposite. “We had that moment where he and I both realized that we didn’t want it to end,” he says. “It finally got to a point, ironically, where it was like, ‘I never want to leave this. I could do this until the day I die, and then if I get the choice when I’m dead, I’ll re-up!’ But you never want to be the last person at a party. We just knew. That’s not to say there haven’t been vacillations, but we all trust the decision that was made.”

Starting in July 2019, the cast and crew returned to Vancouver to begin filming the final season, but in March 2020, with two episodes left to go, they were sent home. For years, fans had wondered what, if anything, could stop the Winchesters, and now it seems we have the answer: a global pandemic. As sets closed amid social-distancing measures due to the spread of COVID-19, it didn’t take long for fans to start connecting the dots, sharing relevant GIFs from episodes that featured viruses, most notably Chuck telling Dean to hoard toilet paper “like it’s made of gold” before the end of the world in season 5’s “The End.” (Did we mention that Supernatural is also kind of psychic? In a season 6 episode, Dean calls Sam “Walker, Texas Ranger,” which just so happens to be the role Padalecki has lined up after this ends.)

When production paused, it all felt a little like we were living in an episode of the show, just waiting for Sam and Dean to drive up in Baby, open those creaky doors, and save us. They might not be able to do quite that, but the thing with the Winchesters is that they never stay down for long. When Supernatural is able to safely resume production, it will. And though there are only two episodes left to film, fans will enjoy a total of seven unseen hours, including the return of Charlie (Felicia Day) and a mystery woman who visits the bunker and, for some reason, gives Sam and Dean all the holidays they never got to celebrate. “She makes Christmas for them and Thanksgiving, birthday parties, and all that. It’s a very good episode,” Singer says, adding, “I don’t know when it’s going to air.”

That’s the thing—no one knows, not even the guys who took out Yellow Eyes, stopped Leviathans, defeated Death himself, and are supposedly destined to be the messengers of God’s destruction. But Sam and Dean do know the value of a good plan B. “Obviously it’s a horribly unfortunate situation we’re in, but the silver lining is that it gives us an opportunity to recharge,” Ackles says. “We had just finished episode 18, we shot one day of episode 19, and I was reading these two monster scripts thinking, ‘It’s like we’re at the end of a marathon and they want us to sprint for the last two miles.’ I feel like this almost gives us an opportunity to refocus and go into the last two episodes and hit them with everything we got.” Because when they do return to set, shave their quarantine beards, and step back into Sam and Dean’s shoes for the last time, they’ll have one shot at ending this thing…and they’re determined not to miss.

Photos: Peggy Sirota for EW

https://ew.com/tv/supernatural-stars-cover-ew-to-reflect-on-the-shows-undying-legacy/

#supernatural #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #misha collins #last season #season 15 #entertainment weekly #cover story #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #full post #SPN #spn family #new photo #new photos

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chokemeanakin · 4 years

Text

Bad Dream- Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader (angst + fluff)

Summary: Reader has a bad dream during a thunderstorm and goes to Anakin for help

WC: 2.2k

Masterlist

Reader it in ao3

You had fallen asleep to the distant grumbling of the sky. Weather reports had all pointed to a storm during the night, and although you were not afraid of thunder, you were inclined to sleep through it so you could catch up on some much needed rest. Unfortunately, your subconscious had other plans.

You’re not sure when the tossing and turning started, but it must have been around the same time your head was filled with disturbing images, dark scenarios, dreams that made your pulse race and your body break out into a cold sweat. It was one of those dreams where you felt like you were drowning in a box with no way out, running from something when your legs refused to move, trying to save someone but they were just out of reach.

A deafening clap of thunder had you shooting upright in bed.

It took you a moment to realize where you were. The room was dark, the surroundings of your room illuminated in flickers as lightning flashed across the sky outside. Thick pellets of rain hammered against the windows, like millions of tiny pebbles attempting to break through the glass.

While normally it would have calmed you, now it heightened your unease. The whole world seemed to groan in rage outside, and you were still desperately trying to pull yourself out of the frightening dream you just had.

You were no stranger to nightmares-- you knew how to ground yourself after the particularly bad ones. But your fingers were too numb from gripping the bed sheets to feel anything else, your eyes unable to pick anything up but the eerie shadows in the corner of the room as irregular veins of lightning struck the ground, ears deafened by the rain and rumbling of the storm. Your head felt like it had been doused in lava, heart pounding in your chest. You were trapped, being swallowed up by darkness, falling back into that dream, back into that nightmare--

Another clap of thunder had the wall decorations shaking and you shooting to your feet, heading toward the door. You weren’t sure where you were planning on going, just that you had to get out of there before you suffocated for real. Peals of thunder followed you into the living area, unrelenting and loud enough to make your ears ring. The glass decorations on the windowsill rattled with tension, bright white flashes causing spots to form in your vision. You could barely hear yourself think, and a very real fear that the sky was actually opening up and falling down had you bolting for your door, heading across the hall of the Jedi temple to Anakin’s room.

You wandered through his living space on unsteady legs, falling into furniture and tripping over chairs in the dark. With each explosion of thunder, you sunk deeper into yourself, hugging your arms around your middle and bracing for impact. His door was cracked open an inch, and you nudged it open wider so that you could slip into the room.

You weren’t even sure he would be in here. He often worked late into the night, running around the temple halls, working on his starfighter, or deployed on a mission. If worse came to worse, you were just planning on sleeping in his sheets like you did when you missed him… except when you approached the bed, he was in it, and he was fast asleep.

You studied his face between flashes of light. He looked peaceful, face relaxed and breathing even. How he could sleep through a monstrosity of a storm like this, you would never know… especially since he usually wasn’t a very deep sleeper. He must have been beyond exhausted after his Jedi duties today if he wasn’t waking up, especially sensing your troubled presence nearby, and it only made you feel worse for disturbing his rest. But before you could work up the courage to leave, his eyebrows twitched, lips twisting into a frown before his eyes fluttered open.

Upon seeing you, he pushed himself up onto his forearms, blanket slipping down to reveal his bare chest. He squinted at you, still very much half asleep but reaching to take your hand in his anway.

“Wh’s wrong?”

You suddenly felt very childish. How were you supposed to complain of a nightmare to Anakin Skywalker, the literal king of terrifying prophetic dreams? What would he think of you if he knew you had come running to him because a simple thunderstorm had spooked you? What was he even supposed to do about it anyway?

Your hesitance worried him, so he reached out with the force to gage your emotions. Scared, uneasy, disturbed-- but not so much of the furious storm overhead, but of something else, something deeper. You had been shaken to the core, tormented by something that left your mind restless and body quivering in his touch. He had had enough experience to know exactly what was going on.

“Bad dream?”

You ducked your head to study your bare feet, ashamed. “The thunder doesn’t help.”

“C’mere,” he scoot across the bed, peeling back the covers for you to get in. You crawled into his bed clumsily, collapsing onto the pillows as he tucked them back up over you. The rain was still pounding mercilessly into the windows, the sky waging armageddon, but the pillows smelled like Anakin and he was right next to you, a formidable, calming presence despite the warzone outside.

He immediately gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his chest and resting his cheek on top of your head. You breathed in his scent, basking in his warmth. All of the fear and worries from the storm outside seemed to melt away. All that was left was the incessant reminders of your disturbing dream, replaying in your mind as if on a tape-reel. Every time you tried to close your eyes, to relax fully into Anakin and let him just hold you in his strong arms, the images would come back. It had you pent up with frustration, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep like Anakin seemed to be doing again, but you just couldn’t. You were too afraid that you might slip back into that dark place, and have to relive what had plagued your mind before.

You felt Anakin’s head lift off yours. He studied you for a moment, eyebrows drawn down in concern.

“Alright, come with me. We’re going on an adventure.”

You watched Anakin unwrap himself around you and then get out of bed, waiting for you to do the same. Slowly, you pushed yourself back onto your feet, taking the hand he held out for you and letting him lead you into the kitchen. He motioned for you to sit at one of the chairs of the island, and then left you there to reach into the cupboard and retrieve a couple of mugs.

“Tea? Tea is your idea of an adventure?” You teased, spinning slightly on the spinny chair.

“When it’s 3am the roof is about to cave in because of a storm, yes. It’s an adventure.”

He flicked the oven on and a flame burst out of the stovetop. He placed the tea kettle on top, then lazily waved his hand in the air to call the teabags over to him. Then he leant his forearms against the counter, bowing his head and yawning as he waited for the water to heat up.

You felt terrible for keeping him awake.

“I can make the tea,” you offered, and he lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at you. “So you can go back to bed, I mean.”

A sudden boom of thunder clapped overhead, shaking the walls and causing you to flinch involuntarily. He looked at the ceiling as this happened, listening to the aching sky grumble an apology for the attack.

“And sleep through a storm like this? Now that’d be a shame.”

You knew he was only saying this for your sake, and you loved him for it. Still, it didn’t ease the guilt you felt as you watched him take the whistling kettle off the flame, pouring it into the mugs with one hand while rubbing his eye with the other.

“Don’t feel guilty, my love. I’m more than willing to stay up with you if you can’t sleep.”

“You must be exhausted though,” you accepted the mug he held out for you.

“I’m alright.”

You pouted. The temple shuddered with another round of explosive claps of thunder, lightning flickering through the blinds. Suddenly the low hum of the space heaters went silent, and a foreboding click sounded as everything shut down.

“Did the power just go out?” You eyed the blank screen of the microwave, where it used to show the time.

“Good timing,” he handed you honey for your tea. “Don’t worry, it should be back on by morning. The temple maintenance workers are more than prepared for stuff like this.”

“I’m not worried… just surprised. It’s a very violent storm, isn’t it?”

He nodded, thumbing the rim of his mug. His deep breaths, the slow blinks, the slurred words. He was about to fall asleep standing up, and you’d be damned if you didn’t do something about it.

“Let’s go to the couch,” you suggested, and pushed yourself off the spinny chair. He followed you into the living area, sitting next to you as you curled up into his side again, hugging the mug between your hands and letting the steam melt across your face. Instinctively, he put his arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked after a moment, staring out the rain-spattered window at the blurry city lights below. “Your dream I mean?”

“I… can’t really remember it anymore,” you answered truthfully. The longer you stayed awake, the more the dream slipped from your memory. A blessing, only tainted by the feelings it left in its wake. The fear and dread remained, though the dream in itself was gone.

“It bothers you still.”

“Only a little,” you took a sip of your tea. “But this is nice.”

Lightning shot across the sky, reaching its hands out like it was searching for something across the horizon. More tendrils branched out in every direction, crawling across the skyline and illuminating the room in a pale blue light. You counted the seconds until the thunder hit: 1...2...3…

“Storm’s right overhead,” Anakin noted, thumb stroking the skin of your arm.

“It better not kill us.”

“I won’t let it kill you,” he chuckled deeply.

“You won’t let it?” You pulled back to look at him. “I hate to break it to you, but I think Mother Nature does what she wants.”

“You forget, I control an important part of nature.”

Your mug lifted from your fingers suddenly, floating into his hand instead. He took a sip of your tea, winking lazily.

“Hey,” you laughed, reaching for your mug as he held it over his head with a teasing smile. You were too tired to fight him for it though, so you rolled your eyes with mock exasperation, holding his chin steady so you could kiss him instead.

His lips were pliant beneath yours, and tasted sweet like the honey. You licked the taste off of them, and his arm lowered without him realizing it so he could focus on the feel of you. You took the opportunity to grab your mug back, pulling away before he could realize what you’d done.

“Dirty tactic,” he mused. “I’d even go as far as to say… cheater.”

“Yeah, yeah, like you don’t use your fancy Jedi tricks to peek at my deck every time we play cards.”

“You have no proof.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you finish your tea, setting it down on the coffee table before you and nuzzling your head back into Anakin’s neck. “So it’s only fair that you cut me some slack.”

“Just this once,” he appeased, tilting his head so that it was resting on yours again.

You felt much better now than you had before. As the storm came to a head, Anakin held you through it. It was impossible to be frightened of the loud noises and sinister peals of lightning when he was holding you. The sluggish funk that the nightmare had left you with also faded away, and all that was left was the scent of Anakin, the feel of his warm skin beneath your cheek, and the taste of him on your lips. Before long, you had nodded off on his shoulder.

He stayed awake until he was certain you were sleep, watching the raindrops race each other down the window pane. Shortly after the space heaters powered back to life, he turned his head to see your eyes closed, lips slightly parted, fast asleep against him. Carefully, he shifted you into his arms so that he could carry you back to bed without you waking.

Although he was beyond the point of exhaustion, he slept better than ever that night knowing you were beside him, safe in his embrace and contentedly resting now that your fears had been washed away. A few hours of missed sleep was worth it if it meant making sure you would be okay, and he knew that you would do the same for him without a doubt.

#did i really just write shirtless ani and NOT mention his abs???#shit i guess there is something wrong with me #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fic #star wars fic #anakin fluff #anakin angst #anakin skywalker

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pit-and-the-pen · 4 years

Note

Hiiii, you know I love angst so can I please request with prompts 22 and 45 from the angst list please? Happy or angst ending its up to you. Thank you!!

Dirty Little Secret “Which part of me wasn’t enough?”

“Would you hate me?”

Warnings; extremely brief mention of torture. Extremely brief mention of ‘Parental’ abuse. Briefly implied smut if you squint at the end.

Word count:5k

A/n: Just get ready. Honestly. I’m so sorry for how sad this about to be

taglist: @thoseofgreatambition @ickle-ronniekins @summer-writes @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrysweasleys: message me if you want to be added to taglist :)

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“For the last time. Please don’t call him my cousin” You pleaded as you sat in the Gryffindor common room surrounded by your friends. George and Fred sat closest to you as Harry was sitting in an armchair across the room, yet again complaining about whatever Malfoy was currently annoying him with.

“I mean he-” George started. You shot him a glare that instantly made him recoil from you.

“They pretend the Tonks name doesn’t even exist . Why should I claim them?” You muttered out under your breath.

“Come on, Y/n. we know you’re nothing like him.” George says, leaning over to give you a small peck on the forehead.

“But what if I was, even a little bit? Would you hate me?” Your voice wasn’t any louder than a whisper. He just frowned at you.

“You know what, I just remembered I have homework I need to do.” Pushing yourself off of the couch, you snatched up your school bag and headed out the portrait hole, needing to get out of the room. George just stares at the place you just were. He balls up a piece of paper and chucks it towards Harry.

‘Nice going. You upset her.” Fred piped up.

“You know how she gets whenever someone brings that up. Like just mentioning it enough will make her go bad.” George continued.

“I didn’t think she would react like that.” Harry said defensively. “I’ll apologize when she comes back later. Alright?” He obviously felt bad but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

You had stayed in the library much longer than you planned. At first just using it as an excuse to leave the common room, but you suddenly realized how much work you had been avoiding. Your last year was not a piece of cake at all. Umbridge constantly looming over you didn’t make things any better. Quickly shoving all of your work into your bag, you ran back to the common room to make sure you didn’t get caught out after hours. The last thing you needed was another detention with the toad.

Much to your surprise, the group was still sitting in the same position you left them in. A few have dozed off, including George. Stretched out across the couch while Fred was reading some book you couldn’t see the cover of. When you walked back through the opening, a few of them flicked their eyes over to you.

Fred hit George’s shins and he woke with a start. “She’s back” is all he said to Gerorge. With that, you notice him give Harry an expecting look. Harry cleared his throat, getting your attention.

“Hey I wanted to say sor-” You held up your hand. Not wanting to bring up the subject again.

“Don’t worry about it.” He tried to argue it further but you just shook your head. He seemed to get the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it anymore and let it drop. You walked over to the couch and leaned down to give George a small kiss.

“Go to bed.” You mumbled to him with a small laugh, noticing how he was already falling back asleep.

“Why would I do that when you’re down here?” He said, eyes seeming to be closed. Suddenly his arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you down onto the couch with him. You let out a small scream in surprise.

“Get a room!” Fred shouted at the pair of you. This caused the few people who had fallen asleep to wake up.

“We already have one. What would you call this?” George joked back, leaving small pecks all over your face and neck as you laughed. You managed to swat him off of you and stood up, straightening your uniform.

“Well with that amazing display. I think I’m going to bed.” You were breathing heavy and laughing. That was one of the things you loved most about George. He never let you go to sleep anything but perfectly happy. He gives you one more big sloppy kiss, much to the displeasure of the rest of the room, before he also heads up to bed. You should have known things were too good to last.

The next morning, you, George and Fred walked down to breakfast together like normal. There was an eerie hush that seemed to be over the great hall. It felt like walking into a brick wall with how much tension was in the room.

“What’s everyone on this morning? Umbridge drop a new decree?” You asked Lee as you sat down at the table.

“Take a look.” He responded while throwing this morning's edition of the Prophet in front of you. George and Fred both peered over your shoulder as your face dropped.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN

The heading read. Displayed on the front was a picture of none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, seeming to be trying to bite whoever had the displeasure of taking her picture. You threw down the paper and suddenly felt sick to your stomach.

“Hey.” George said, grabbing your arm as you turned to stand up. Right as you were about to pull your arm out of his grasp, you noticed your family's large silvery owl swooping down. You caught a letter that was dropped down to you and it flew out of sight. Probably to the owlery.

Immediately, you noticed your mother's large loopy handwriting on the outside. Still standing, you ripped open the envelope and read the letter.

“I am sending Nympthadora to Hogwarts to talk to you. Go to Dumbldores office the moment you receive this. - Love mom.”

Your breath seemed to get caught in your chest. Why did your sister need to come to school? Did they think you knew something about the breakout? If anyone needed to be questioning Malfoy. And even that would be a stretch. You looked around and noticed George was staring intently at you. Silently asking you if you were okay, his hand still wrapped around your arm.

“I..I have to go.” Was all you could manage to sputter out.

“Are you okay?” His voice was full of concern.

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to you later okay?” You grabbed his hand and gave it a tight squeeze before grabbing your bag and all but running out of the great hall.

On your way to the headmasters office, you ran into Professor McGonagall.

“Ah Tonks.. I was just heading to the great hall to look for you.” She eyed the letter in your hand.

“I see you got the letter. Very well, follow me.” You were getting more scared by the second. Never in all your years at Hogwarts have you been in Dumbledore's office. To say you were terrified was an understatement.

“Sherbert Lemon.” McGonagall said when you approached the gargoyle outside of his office. She waved her hand for you to go up and you had expected her to leave, instead she followed behind you. On the way up you started going over in your mind everything you had done lately. Nothing you could think of warranted all of this.

Once you got to the top of the staircase, you heard a few voices talking rather loud and fast. You couldn’t make out anything, only that one of the voices was from your sister. You froze instantly, not wanting to deal with whatever was happening ahead.

“Go on.” McGonagall sighed when she noticed you paused. You stepped into the large round room that was the main part of Dumbledore’s office and the few people in the office looked up. Along with your sister, Remus was with her.

“Y/n!” She called out and ran to give you a giant hug. You haven't seen her since the summer and if you weren’t as scared as you were, you would have been more excited.

“We’ll have time for that later, Tonks.” Remus said in a tense voice. She let go but stayed by your side.

“Well. We shouldn’t wait any longer to tell you. I bet you’re wondering why you’ve been called up here?” Dumbledore asked you. You had suddenly lost your voice and could only nod.

“You aren’t in any trouble. But that is all the good news I have, I’m afraid.” He paused and gave you a smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “With the recent breakout from Azkaban, Andromeda decided it was time to tell you the truth. Tonks? Do you want to be the one to tell her?” When he said that, Tonks grabbed your hand and gave it three little squeezes, the two of yours sign for ‘I love you’. She cleared her throat

“This really isn’t easy to tell you. Okay.” She took a deep breath and turned to you. “A few years before Bellatrix went to Azkaban. The family discovered she had a child. The only problem was no one knew where they were. Then she was arrested and that’s when they found..Found you.”

Suddenly you felt very light headed. You had to have heard her wrong. Tonks had said they found you.

“You had been obviously neglected. Stuck in a small nursery and looked after by only a few house elves. That’s when mom agreed to take you in. Narssica and Lucius were still under heavy suspicion to be working with you-know-who and didn’t need more connections to that side, plus she had only just had Draco. The decision was made not to tell you because she was never really a mother to you. And up until last night, we never thought she would be out of Azkaban.” She looked at you, her eyes suddenly full of tears. She was expecting you to say something but your brain had suddenly stopped functioning. You could only stare at her blankly.

“The reason why we’re telling you this now, y/n” Remus started. You had forgotten he was there up until he spoke. Your eyes flickered over to him. “Is, since you are of age now, the order is concerned she might come and collect you.” That seemed to do the trick.

“And do what?” Your voice was tiny.

“We don’t know. We know Voldemort lost a large amount of followers so maybe to try to recruit you.”

“I would never do that!” You interrupted. He held his hand up to stop you.

“We all know that. You’ve been interested in the order since this summer. We’ve all seen it. But she isn’t known for playing fair. We just need you to be on guard.” He seemed to sag down after saying this, as if a great weight was placed on his shoulders.

“We just want you safe. If mom didn’t think it was better for you to know, we wouldn’t tell you. But everyone decided it’s better to hear it from people who love and care about you then hear it from her if she got the chance.” Tonks’s voice was soothing. Or at least it should have been but you were still numb from shock. She grabbed the sides of your face.

“Don’t think for a second that this changes anything. You’re still my sister and I still love every bit of you.” When she said that, it broke whatever you were holding onto and tears started falling from your face. You vaguely processed the others shifting out of the main room.

“I know your head is probably going to a million different places at once. But this doesn’t change the way anyone looks at you.” She said.

“Did everyone know?” You managed to get out between sobs.

“Everyone that needed to know, knew. All of the Order. But again, no one looks at you any differently.” You nodded. Whipping away the tears as you started to calm down. It didn’t change anything. But that nagging voice in the back of your head only shouted all of your worst fears at you. You’re no different. Evil is in your blood, not just your family tree. If you’re her kid, then some of the worst blood is in you too.

“Are you okay?” Tonks asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“As okay as I can be.” You say with a slight laugh. You wipe away a few more tears and give her a small smile.

“You can write to me if you need anything. Even just to talk okay. Anything you need.” She says as she gives you another big hug. This time, you squeeze her back until someone else clears their throat.

“I do hate to say it but we have to leave.” Remus chimed in. Tonks gave you a look and you nodded.

“Okay. Seriously write me if you need anything.” Tonks says as Remus grabs her hand. The two of them leave in a ploof of green fire.

“Well if that’s all, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, I’ll leave.” You say, your mind still playing catch up. McGonagall gives you a sad look and they both say goodbye as you walk out of the office as fast as you can while still being polite.

You all but run back to the Gryffindor common room trying to beat the tears threatening to start up again. You barely make it back to your bed before you started crying. Everything you had been scared about fresh in your mind. There really was nothing good about you in the end. How you ended up in Gryffindor was suddenly all you can think of. After a little bit you had cried yourself out to the point of falling asleep.

It must have been a couple hours, you woke up with a start as the image of you in dark black robes burned out of your mind. The sky was just getting dark, making the dorm pink with the sunlight. When you walked up to the sink near your bed, you saw how puffy and red your face was. Sighing, you splashed some cold water on your face before you walked out into the common room.

“Y/n!” George bellowed when he saw you. “There you are. You disappeared earlier and I haven’t seen you since.” His face fell when he noticed your face. “What’s wrong.” He whispered when you sat down next to him. Of course he would be able to tell right away something was off. You shook your head.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” And surprisingly he dropped it. You really did want to tell him but not in the crowded common room.

Days went by and you kept coming up with ways to avoid the topic. It was always the wrong time, it was too crowded, someone interrupted you.Umbridge's rule of boys and girls not being within six feet of each other is also not helping at all. You can’t tell if it was a good thing or not at this point. The longer you went without telling him the more nervous you got, having already come up with a million different ways he’ll react.

You haven't meant for it to just come tumbling out. Not like that, not in the mean, clipped tone that it did. The two of you stood facing each other, eyes wide and round. He took a second to process the words you had just shouted at him.

“This is a sick joke right?” His words make your world shatter. You suddenly can’t find it in yourself to meet his eyes as you shake your head.

“You..You didn’t think this was important to tell me?” He ran his hands through his hair. “Did you really only just find out? Or have you been lying to me this whole time?” You flinch a little at his tone.

“I only just found out the other day. I promise I didn’t li-”

“You know what.” He started, interrupting you. “I don’t even want to hear it. You swear up and down youre so much different from the rest of your family. And I believed it because I mean, look at Tonks. Look at who I thought was your family. But her?” He spat out. “How can you look at Neville ever again? How can you sit in the same common room as him and just pretend everything is okay?” You felt the tears run down your face. No one looks at you any differently. Tonks’ words from the other day echo in your head. You knew she had been wrong. The only person whose opinion of you really mattered saw you from what you really were.

“I’m still me.” You manage to say in between sobs. “I’m still the same person you fell in love with. George please.” You grab at his robes as he starts to leave the room.

He freezes and looks at where your hand grabbed him, like it burned him, like it made him dirty.

“That’s the worse part.” Was all he said as he pried your hands off of him and gave you a little shove backwards. The action taking you by such shock, you almost lost your balance. You started up at him wildly, tears streaming down your face. A sob of his name left your lips but you could barely understand it and he was already gone. You sunk to your knees. “Which part of me wasn’t good enough?” You screamed at nobody in particular. You never made it back to the common room that night.

You also never got another chance to smooth things over. To explain to him the way you had planned. The twins set off their bound-to be-infamous fireworks display the next day and they were gone.

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You didn’t know why you came. A small part of you deep down knew why. It had been so long since you had been wanted. Since someone had asked you to be a part of anything. The halls of the manor were as cold as you remember. The few times you had come here as a small child played in your head. Back when the Malfoys were still trying to prove they were good by letting you come over. You now realized it was because you fell into what they deemed worthy of being in the house, and that’s why Tonks haven't been invited.

Narcissa was still leading you through the house when you seemed to come to your senses. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t want to be in the house. You wanted to be at the burrow with Fred and George. They don’t want you, remember? He could see what you really are.

You ignored the voice and focused on how the hallways never seemed to end. The small shadows of house elves scurrying out of your way was enough to make you sick.

“In here.” Narcissa said when you got to a random room. You took a deep breath before she suddenly grabbed your arm.

“Think about what you’re doing. Think very hard. Say the word and I’ll let you turn around right now and no one will know. But walk in there and I can’t help you.” She was dead serious. The voice of a concerned person. It warmed you a little bit.

“I just want to talk to..to her.” You say as convincingly as you can.

“It’s your life. I’m damned one way or another. You on the other hand, you have a choice.”

“And right now I’m choosing to try and talk to her. I’ll figure it out from there.” She seemed to sag down but composed herself and announced something to the room. You heard a high pitch laughter that chilled you to your spine. She nodded to you and put a should- be- comforting hand on your back as you walked into the room.

You swear the temperature dropped ten degrees as you walked in. The bedroom was big, like a cavern. A high ceiling with very little furniture in contract to the sheer size of it. A small part of you was surprised to see a bed, thinking hanging from the ceiling like the bat she was, would have been more appropriate.

“Hi, mom” You said in a dead voice and her laughter echoed off of the walls. High pitched and nailing you to the floor.

“So they told you after all. How sweet.” Her voice didn’t match her appearance. It was a soprano baby voice, that was almost worse than the gravelly voice you thought she would have.

She stood up and walked closer to you. Every inch of your body was screaming to run but you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Eventually she was standing right in front of you. Her hand reached out to twirl a piece of your hair.

“Now why did you really come here? I hope you’re smart enough to know I’m not going to start singing you lullabies.” That seemed to be the very question you were asking yourself now. Why had you come? A deep part of you just wanted to have a normal family. Bellatrix was far from that.

She suddenly grabbed your left arm. “Could it be something to do with this? I don’t think the Dark Lord has sunk low enough to need someone raised like you were though.” She looks over to her sister who is still standing in the corner of the room, tense as a board. “What do you think Cissy?” She says with a slight pout.

“No.” You said, shaking your hand out of her grasp. “I needed to come here to see what I’m not. I was so afraid of becoming like you, even before I knew, I had to see. And you know what I learned?” You suddenly felt brave. Like everything had finally clicked into place.

“Aw. What would that be?”

“We make our own choices.” Your next moves were very calculated. You had a few seconds at best as you pulled your wand out of your cloak.

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Every part of your body hurt. Like you had been in a particularly nasty game of quidditch. You went to open your eyes but instantly shut them at the pain that radiated through your skull.

“Just let me see her.” A voice called from outside of the room you were in.

“Why? So you can hurt her even more? George just leave it. She’s not even awake yet.” You recognized the voice as Tonks. Wait if she said George, does that mean? You peak your eyes open just a tiny bit and notice the familiar surroundings of the burrow. How did you end up here? You didn’t remember a lot past the first move. Everything had gone by so fast.

The door clicked open then shut and you heard, who you assumed to be, Tonks huff. You tried to sit up a little bit.

“Oh. You're up!” She was at your side in a second. “If you weren’t so banged up I would beat you right here.” Her voice held no malice despite her words.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell happened?” She all but screamed.

You winced at the volume but tried to sit up a little more. She helped you prop up on a pillow.

“Well.” Your voice was raspy. “I..I don’t know what I was thinking.” You had never felt more stupid in your life. What did you expect to happen? You took a deep breath and told Tonks as much as you could remember. She just stared and you blankly. Looking for something to say. All of a sudden you found arms wrapped around you.

“You are such an idiot. Do you know that?” Her voice shook with tears. “I guess that explains some stuff too.” She seemed to be talking to herself. “God I could kill that boy right now.”

“You came here in the middle of the night, bleeding. Half conscious. It was a miracle you were even able to apparate in the state you were. Molly was able to patch you up but you might have a few scars.” She paused. “Well, one really.” With that she pulled up your left sleeve and your heart sunk.

“It’s not what you think. She started the process but didn’t finish it.” You stared at the bumped skin that was clearly a hastily carved dark mark. Looking at that hurt more than anything. Sure it wasn’t the real thing, you needed to fully commit to be able to get one and from what you’ve heard, it’s not a pleasant experience. Knowing you have any bit of that on your body makes you fight the urge to be sick. Tonks rubs your shoulder.

“I’ll give you some time to process everything.” She gives you a quick peck on the forehead and closes the door softly behind her.

You start to drift off when there's a small knock and the door creaks open just a crack. You’re half expecting it to be Tonks. But in all reality, the face you’ve wanted to see the most since that awful day greets you.

He awkwardly stands in the entryway of the door. You can’t meet his eyes, but move over slightly to show he’s welcomed to sit on the bed. The only thing he does is shift his body weight so he’s leaning against the wall directly across from the bed, and gives the door a soft nudge close.

The silence hangs heavy in the air. All the words you’ve wanted to say hang on the tip of your tongue, you try to hold them back. For once, his face is unreadable as you finally look up at him. You threaten to melt on the spot right then and there, realizing immediately you haven’t lost an ounce of love for this man. If anything, from the dull throb in your chest, you probably love him more somehow.

A deep sob touches your ears and you suddenly realize he’s crying.

“George.” You start but he holds up a hand.

“This is all my fault.”He walks towards the bed and sits down in the space you gave him. “Tonks just came down and chewed me out”

“She-” Once again he interrupts you.

“I deserve it. I explained to her what happened because the plan was for you to leave Hogwarts with us that day. That’s what I had even dragged you into that room to tell you.” He laughed a little, not his usual laugh, this was stiff and cold.

“I was stupid enough to let my own prejudices get in the way of everything that I felt.” He started.

“I don’t blame you” Your voice was small. You were fighting back tears at seeing how upset he was.

“No. See that’s the issue.” He grabbed your hands and looked at you for the first time. “I made you think that you were different. Unloveable to the point where you felt like you had to go to Death Eaters to feel like you belonged. I regretted what I said the moment I had time to think clearly.” He took a deep breath. “I was so angry at the idea of it, I never thought to think of how you might be feeling. You never seemed so afraid of me as when I got mad at you. Merlin” He took a deep breath. “I would rather die than ever see that look on your face, let alone know that I put it there.” He moves one of his hands to your cheek, wiping a tear with his thumb in the process. “I love you more than anything y/n. I was a stupid git and I’m more sorry than you can ever imagine. I don’t deserve you accepting my apology but I’m here if you still want. I’m here no matter what.” His words took a few seconds to sink in.

“You know what I realized?” You said after a few seconds of silence. His face showed he was taking in every word you said. “I was so afraid of becoming like the rest of my family, I never stopped to think that I had a choice in it too. I could never be like them because I’m not them. I mean look at Sirius. If he can be raised in that family and still be as good as he was.” You paused. “I’m good because I want to be. Because there is nothing that is black and white. And most importantly I am not my mother.” George just stayed silent. You took another deep breath.

“You hurt me more than I can ever explain. And I do still love you. I love you more than anything in this world.” You smiled. “But boy do you owe me a lot of kisses to make up for this.” George sat still for a couple seconds, fully processing your words. Then a giant smile formed on his face. His arms wrapped around you and ripped you up from the bed. Spinning you as you yelped it pain.

In an instant, his lips crashed to yours, swallowing whatever sound you made. He was everywhere all at once. Hands gently exploring and your hands fused into his hair. He touched a spot that made you wince particularly hard and he separated from you just the slightest bit.

“Marry me.” He said, panting. You laughed, a fuller laugh than you had in months. “I’m serious. I should have asked you that day.” You just wrapped a hand in his hair.

“After all of this is over. I just might take you up on that offer Weasley.” He smiled once again before reconnecting your lips. You ignored the pain. After all, he had a lot to make up for.

#george weasley #angst #there will be angst #request #george request

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sunshinereversed · 4 years

Text

𝙙𝙮𝙡𝙖𝙣’𝙨 “𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡”: 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙨

I think it’s eerily prophetic how the song “Flowers on the Wall” (performed by the Statler Brothers) radiates so strongly with Dylan Klebold. The country tune has already been associated with Dylan because it appears in the background of the video where he and Nate are driving to school. But if you really listen to the lyrics and reflect on Dylan’s inner struggles, they coincide strangely well.

Let’s take the very first line of the song.

I keep hearin' you're concerned about my happiness.

The constant ‘Are you okay? Are you sure you’re okay? You seem so down lately’ from his parents, especially Sue, is reflected here. His mother sees that Dylan is ‘moody and irritable,’ often withdrawn, spending time hauled up in his room. She notices the tightness of his voice, which is unlike him, and she offers to make him French toast or an omelet. This must be about something small, she thinks. Yet his sullen demeanor stays as days turn to weeks, and she must ask again in vain, ‘Are you okay?’

But all that thought you're givin' me is conscience, I guess.

It doesn’t even cross Sue’s mind that her son may be unwell. She is simply asking out of concern for him looking unhappy, believing whatever it is will solve itself out. His mother wears her heart on her sleeve, and it pains her to see him so sad. But what can she do if he refuses to talk about it? All she can do is ask and wait for it to pass. He’s a good kid, after all. He’ll do the right thing because she’s worked hard to instill her morals into what he does.

If I were walkin' in your shoes, I wouldn't worry none.

Dylan reassures her repeatedly. ‘I’m only tired. I have a lot of homework. Nothing’s wrong. No one gives me a tough time, I’m 6’4”.’ He wishes she would leave him alone. He thinks she wouldn’t understand; she wouldn’t listen. He tells his parents not to worry. ‘You can trust me,’ he tells his mother one evening after the prom. Dylan goes out of his way to prove that he is the golden child. It works, and they worry none.

While you 'n' your friends are worried about me I'm havin' lots of fun.

Dylan’s social life serves as a mask for what is going on in his mind. He goes over to his friends’ houses, bowls on Friday nights, makes videos after school, plays catch with his dad, and even watches old movies with his mother. He has pictures of good times with friends. Outwardly, he is smiling; life is a dream. This makes his parents rethink their concerns. He’s a happy kid who does normal teenage things. What is there to worry about? He’s assuring those around him that he’s fine.

Now here comes the chorus, which is a bit tricky but makes sense when you consider these things:

Countin' flowers on the wall.

If anyone is familiar with the book The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, this might be a clue. Like the protagonist in the book, Dylan is trapped in his four-walled cell (his bedroom) which is where he does most of his thinking and spiraling downwards. This is where he writes in his journal and vents his frustrations. It’s a toxic environment for his brain. His room is where he cries himself to sleep; hugs his pillow in loneliness; gets drunk by himself. Most importantly, it’s where he blurs fantasy and reality. While not as plainly mad as the poor woman from Gilman’s novel, Dylan is mentally tortured by what he perceives to be ‘an unfair/miserable existence’ and being ‘stuck in humanity.’ He rejects both, and often retreats into his fantasy where he is with his love and away from the world. The ‘flowers on the wall’ symbolizes his own deception of life when he is alone, and might not only symbolize his bedroom, but also his brain.

That don't bother me at all.

Unlike the real world, Dylan very much prefers to live in the fictional one he’s conjured within his mind. It’s his safe place. Paradoxically, his mind is also where he tears himself down and others around him. It’s a poisonous escape. Yet he is already so far gone in that escape, he can’t see the damage he is doing to himself. And he continues to do so, unbothered, and unaware.

Playin' solitaire till dawn with a deck of fifty-one.

‘Playing solitaire’ could be a metaphor symbolizing his isolation and loneliness, his solitude. Solitaire is a single-player game, and Dylan feels alienated most of the time, especially when he is sulking in his room. Thinking, always thinking. Sometimes, as the line implies, until dawn. He is a night owl who cannot sleep because his mind is constantly awake. Playing music, conversing in chats on the computer, formulating poems in his notebooks, doodling, or just thinking (negatively). He oversleeps often because he is up late doing these things. He is alone, in the middle of the night, consumed by his own sadness. Something is missing inside him, and that is why he plays with ‘a deck of fifty-one.’ He thinks a significant other is the thing that is missing, and if he finds her, he will finally be playing with fifty-two cards, figuratively.

Smokin' cigarettes and watchin' Captain Kangaroo.

For Dylan, this is a dichotomy. An everlasting contrast. The balance between two things, lightness, and darkness, good and evil, etc. He’s doing grown-up things like holding a job, applying to colleges, driving a car, and as the lyrics say, smoking cigarettes. Marlboro, preferably. At the same time, Dylan is caught between acting his age and longing for simpler days. This is where ‘watching Captain Kangaroo’ comes in. It’s a kid’s show and is intended for such an audience. Dylan thinks back with nostalgia for his childhood, when life wasn’t full of disappointments, stress, high school bullies, responsibility. He hangs onto items that remind him of his youth: his stuffed koala, origami, classic movies, his trademark baseball cap, his love for fixing old cars with his dad. Dylan is stuck somewhere in the middle of the two, never truly satisfied with one over the other.

Now don't tell me I've nothin' to do.

Again, Dylan tells those around him that he is perfectly fine by engaging in normal teenage things. He hides how depressed he feels. Dylan becomes increasingly irritated the more people ask if he’s okay. The repetition of this line throughout the song is more like a cry for help than a reassurance.

Last night I dressed in tails, pretended I was on the town.

This could symbolize several things, but what comes to my mind is Dylan’s prom night. The fact that he even goes to prom is a pleasant surprise to his parents, confirming that there’s nothing abnormal lurking on the horizon. His father helps him get dressed in his tuxedo, struggles to figure out how the bow tie works, and he pulls his newly washed hair back into a neat ponytail. His mother thinks he looks quite handsome, comparing him to a character in a movie they are both fond of. For a moment, he is just a normal high school kid going to a dance. Nothing out of the boring ordinary.

As long as I can dream it's hard to slow this swinger down.

For one night, at the prom, Dylan pretends this is his life. He is good at blocking out what he considers evil, and Dylan allows himself to enjoy the moment. He’s had a lot of practice at ignoring his pain. If he can retreat into the fantasy he’s created in his mind, he is capable of anything, good or bad. It’s like an out-of-body experience. He’s not there when he’s there. Nothing can stop him. He has two settings at this point, 0 and 100. An unhealthy dreamer can be deadly not only to others, but to the dreamer himself.

So please don't give a thought to me, I'm really doin' fine.

As mentioned previously, Dylan flies under the radar to not be asked about his well-being. He holds out his arms to point to all these social activities he’s engaging in with his friends as if to say ‘Look what I’m doing. I’m fine. Do not worry.’ It’s a cruel deception, and he doesn’t even realize he is being deceived as much as those around him are. Dylan starts to believe what he’s telling others. He doesn’t think he is worth the worry.

You can always find me here; I'm havin' quite a time.

‘Here’ can mean one of several places: his bedroom, his mind, or perhaps his existence. Either way, ‘I’m having quite a time’ is a sarcastic remark. He’s drowning in his harmful thoughts, yet that’s where he feels the safest. It’s his protective shell that he puts up against the world. Dylan entertains the idea over and over in his mind that his love is waiting for him in another existence. No matter where he physically is, he’s ‘always there’, lost in his thoughts.

The chorus repeats. Dylan outwardly seems okay. Left to his own devices, he is not.

It's good to see you, I must go, I know I look a fright.

This is a goodbye. Even though it is a casual farewell, it has deeply painful undertones. He says he didn’t like life too much but hopes he will find peace in the next one. He offers a final goodbye to those he loved, family and friends. ‘It’s good to see you’ displays how detached he feels toward the end. These are no longer people he knows fondly; it was simply good to see them. The thoughts must end, and he must leave before they worsen. Like the lyrics suggest, he doesn’t want to stick around and knows he must go. A big part of his self-esteem had to do with his self-image. The line ‘I know I look a fright’ symbolizes how negatively he thought of his own appearance. Dylan couldn’t see his own attractiveness. He felt awkward due to his height, long facial features, shaggy hair, and the way he dressed.

Anyway, my eyes are not accustomed to this light.

This is the trademark dark sunglasses that Dylan wears almost everywhere. He hides behind them, shielding his tears from the world. The light comes from the sun, and he cannot withstand the same light that others can, a nod to him feeling isolated from humanity. Though he is called the ‘sunshine boy,’ his eyes are not meant for its light. So, he dawns the shades to (metaphorically) keep it out.

And my shoes are not accustomed to this hard concrete.

Unlike the sneakers worn by the jocks at his high school, Dylan sports black combat boots. They are unusual among the other students, but Dylan feels comfortable in them. Again, he separates himself from the rest of humanity. He is not meant for it. He knows he must go somewhere he feels free.

So I must go back to my room and make my day complete.

By the end of the song, it becomes clear that Dylan now lives inside the world he’s created in his mind. It almost becomes odd for him not to retreat there at least once a day if not all the time. But like the final lyrics, he goes to stay there forever and never to return.

The final repetition of the chorus only emphasizes the truth. He was not ‘doing fine’, despite all the work of convincing others the opposite.

The last line loops again before the song ends. The upbeat and happy tune only makes the message more haunting.

Don't tell me I've nothin' to do.

And no one did.

#analysis #flowers on the wall #dylan klebold #american tragedy

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arewelonely · 3 years

Text

wait for me

cw: brief mention of alcohol, brief mention of suicidal ideation, fear of violence

part four

––

Draco found himself climbing stairs instead of descending them after his trip to the Room of Requirement. He enjoyed the pumping of his heart and the feeling of his calves tensing–different muscles than the ones he would use during Quidditch, but muscles all the same. He had never expected to play this year, at least not since his father started applying healing ointment to his forearm when he thought Draco and Narcissa were occupied. Salve did nothing to kill something alive, though, and the snake was only too pleased to be wiggling around again.

The windows seeped in cold air the higher Draco got, and he started jogging up the staircases when he realized the Astronomy tower was just a few flights away.

It was probably half one now, and Draco bit back a breath of release as he stepped out into the night, inhaling the fresh air. The moon twinkled on the chilled stones as Draco rested his forearms atop and leaned over them, surveying the grounds. Here was his school, his rambunctious haven.

An owl hooted in the woods and Draco’s eyes snapped in the direction. He couldn’t deny that he itched for a duel. He didn’t know why Snape hadn’t let them practice yet–of any year, this would be the most useful one.

He twirled his wand in his hands. It wasn’t as if Hogwarts had been safe every other year, but his friends had gone through it all with him. None of them had been there this past summer. Just Draco, the youngest at the table, surrounded by old men with long, stern faces that broke into laughter only after glasses of wine and discussions of annihilation.

If it was possible, Draco would allow the cold to sink into his skin. He’d allow it to chill his heart, his soul, and reduce him to a shell with magic coursing through his veins. Walk up to Dumbledore, cast an Avada Kedavra with some deep-sourced anger, and call for help.

In that order.

If the cold took over his body, he could do it in that order. He could watch the muscles relax on a man’s face and feel no remorse. He could pretend he was Voldemort. He could pretend he was better than his father.

Draco pressed his hands to his eyes, his wrists digging into his cheekbones. Fuck. His facial structure was similar to that of his mother.

Her migraines, when he was younger, were eased with his cool hands pressed to her forehead. He’d sit by her bed, talking softly, pressing his hands on her forehead. Her brow bone dipped just as his did. Her cheekbones angled around her eyes in the exact same manner. He couldn’t even attempt to self soothe, if rubbing the desperation out of his eyes could even be called that, without a painful twinge in his stomach. The family twinge. The loyalty twinge. The vague jumping off the Astronomy Tower twinge. The ‘it’s time for bed’ twinge.

---

Even Professor McGonagall, usually so diplomatic, offered a few words with undertones that Hermione knew she was meant to catch. The boys, it made sense–they were overprotective and chock-full of rivalry and aggravation. But McGonagall? It made her stop.

“I…” she frowned over the papers she was sorting. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows, eyes pointed behind her glasses. “Why not? I hardly think you’ll disagree that the atmosphere here is more tense than in past years.”

Hermione sat back and blinked. “I mean, yes, but… you’re a professor. It’s your job to help cultivate the atmosphere. If some students are harming others, you have the authority to act.”

“And I did,” Professor McGonagall uncrossed her arms, gesturing to Hermione seated in front of her desk. “You solved the dispute before I arrived. You are serving detention for how it occurred. Mr. Malfoy is serving detention for his actions as well.”

“And future danger? I’m just supposed to ‘stay alert’?” Hermione shook her head, hands coming up to gesture around her, “what on Earth do you think I’ve been doing this whole–”

“Ms. Granger!”

Hermione breathed out harshly. “It’s just,” she gripped the edges of her chair, “I’ve been alert for six years. Longer in the Muggle world. I’m frustrated.”

Professor McGonagall nodded, flourishing her wand to conjure teacups and a kettle on the table that separated them. “I hear you. It is not fair.”

She poured the tea and Hermione watched the steam rise.

“Here you go. Hermione…” she hesitated, and then nodded. “You’re doing wonderfully. Truly.”

---

The nights were longer than the days, and the portraits no longer awoke with how softly she was able to traipse through the hallways and into the library. Some nights, Hermione felt as if she was getting close to something–the Daily Prophet articles from the ‘70s seemed to have a thread connecting them, and the Quibbler’s current information either corroborated or provided enough contrasting evidence that she could create quite a few hypotheses to run by Harry and Ron (the Muggle attacks were almost too random… the families too unknown to make sense).

Tonight, though, Hermione’s brain wouldn’t concentrate. The books reshelved themselves just a bit too loudly and the walls kept creaking ominously. The wind was whirring outside and she could have sworn she was not alone, though her squints into the darkness of the shelves and peers out of the windows into the night gave her no relief. She exhaled loudly in frustration. Let her wand clatter on the table, pressed her head into her folded arms.

How old would she be before she could relax?

The darker, quieter question: would she even survive to a time without hyper vigilance?

Her ankle twitched, then suddenly jerked–Hermione gasped.

The bone stung, pain soaring through her leg. She scrambled for her wand. Her braids thumped against her back as she spun around and whipped a Stupefy! through the air.

Her eyes darted around furiously when only books tumbled to the ground. “Lumos.”

Then–

“Holy hell,” she breathed out, finding the culprit leaning against a bookshelf behind her. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. His wand dangled from his hands. “Out of bed quite late, aren’t you, Granger?”

“What on Earth gives you the right to–agh–” She winced, bracing her wandless hand on the table as her ankle rolled. She shifted her weight to the other leg as she stood fully and glanced behind Malfoy: he was alone, stark white against the dull auburn and blues of the shelves.

He raised his eyebrows. “Looking for help? You’ll get none. I almost thought McGonagall would appear once Gryffindor’s Princess was in trouble, but it turns out that even the brave lack–”

He faltered and Hermione huffed out a laugh, wand arm tensing. “‘Gryffindor’s–’”

Malfoy snorted. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight. “You left me injured and punished, what did you think you’d get?” He lifted his chin.

“Is this really some childish eye for an eye?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, the moonlight seeping in through the library windows making his eyes glint. “No, I think that by the time we’re done here, you’ll have lost a bit more than an eye.”

But the bags under his own were still heavy, and his shoulders drooped forwards, as if he was hugging himself more than exuding dominance with the folded arms, and Hermione found herself far more annoyed than fearful.

“Alright, well, I’ve got things to do, so why don’t you just get on with it.”

Malfoy blinked and then resumed his smirk. “Eager, are you?”

“Bored of you,” Hermione responded. “You’re too predictable, even if you’re slower this year.”

His nostrils flared and he stepped closer; Hermione raised her wand. “You think you have me all figured out, you filthy little–”

“Mudblood, eh?” Hermione shook her head. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. Too much exposure to a word reduces its impact on a person. Have you experienced that with ‘Lord’ Voldemort?”

He lunged forward again. Hermione debated whether she could heal her ankle and have her wand pointing back at him quickly enough.

“You know nothing–”

“No? You’re exhausted this year, spending all your time alone and out of sight. You’re tormenting others less because you have too much on your mind. You don’t strut around the castle like you’re in charge anymore–you’re not–and even when you seek it out, you’re incapable of actually showing any power. I mean, you’re just standing there with that dim, stunned look on your face and letting me talk because you simply don’t have the will to–”

Hermione cast her shield charm just seconds before Malfoy finally snapped out of it. Amusement bubbled up in her chest. Oh, this was excellent. Malfoy, off his entire game.

He snarled when the Expulso dissolved easily off of Hermione’s defenses and dodged the Stupefy that she whirled in his direction. He sneered. “You think I’d fall for that again?”

He alternated Stupefys and Stinging Hexes, but Hermione cast a still stronger defensive charm, feeling her gut clench as she pressed it farther and farther away from her. She winced, holding her wand arm steady, until the intensity of the curses ricocheting off became too much and the magic all exploded between the two with an echoing boom.

Hermione used this moment of chaos to dart to the other side of the table, directing all her energy towards her ankle–

“Shit!” she gasped, crumpling to the floor as Malfoy’s tripping jinx hit her.

He chuckled (the prat, trying to give off the illusion he was in control) and she shot a spell at the bookshelf behind him, causing vines to grow out of the wood and entangle the boy in front as his smirk morphed into confusion and then disbelief.

She hastily fixed the sprain in her ankle, then scrambled to her feet to shoot a rope at Malfoy’s, binding them together just as he stumbled out of the vines–the bookshelf toppled sideways to the ground, books clattering everywhere and echoing around the room. Malfoy followed them, plunging forward, but flung his wand arm out as he fell. His magic pulled Hermione back to hit against the wall harshly and then rise in the air. She strained against the Levicorpus, “Merlin–”

He groaned, getting slowly to his feet. “You’re not beating me that easily–”

“So you were going easy on me?” she huffed, legs dangling as her spine pushed more against the wall.

He schooled his expression. “Yes.”

Hermione laughed down at him, watching as the rage crept back across his face. His nostrils flared and he tilted his wand–Hermione held back a sound, her face contorting as the hold around her waist intensified. She was dragged farther up, nestled between the ceiling and the wall. She clutched her wand tighter and pointed it down in his direction–

Malfoy let out a grunt as her bruising charm hit just above his hip. He doubled over and Hermione yelped as she lurched to the ground, her weight pushed on to her knees. Her wand dug into her palm when she landed. She grimaced and lifted her head, watching Malfoy watch her from under his hair. His eyes were sky-colored. His face stoic. His wand arm, shaking.

“This is easy for you?” she asked.

He snapped up and fired spell after spell in quick succession–she vanished the ropes that spewed out of his wand, reflected the hexes back at him so he had to jump away. She scanned the scattered books quickly and then aimed her wand at the awful monster book. She smirked as it unleashed, squealing at its freedom and immediately munching everything in its path. Malfoy grunted and tried in vain to stun it into silence, but as soon as the book sensed his frustration, it chose him as its only target.

Hermione watched and let her heart rate return to normal as the book backed Malfoy up against a wall. He looked fearful, and tired, and he refused to glance her way even as she stepped closer, her arms crossed, wand dangling.

The book growled at his feet.

“Would you like some help?”

Malfoy’s eyes flashed and he shot another spell at her–his knuckles whiter than usual. She deflected it easily and raised her eyebrows. She revelled in the fact that he was breathing more heavily than she was.

He flinched and lifted a foot when the book growled again and lurched forward. “Fuck!” He tried to stun it again and again, trapped against the wall with the book steadily eating through the tips of his Pureblooded wizard shoes. He shot fire at it, which startled the book for a second, but it just shook to extinguish the flames and started forward again. He locked eyes with Hermione. “Fuck, just–”

She bent down and stroked along its spine, her nose twitching with pride when it relaxed and opened up. She stood and backed away again, her arms crossed. “Hagrid taught that to us four years ago.”

Malfoy scoffed and cracked his neck from side to side. “It’s not like I was going to…” he shook his head and avoided eye contact.

Hermione snorted out a laugh. Yeah? He wasn’t going to need it?

“So?” she straightened her back proudly. “Was this enjoyable for you? You got what you wanted?”

Malfoy’s stare was ice.

“Because, from my point of view,” Hermione turned back to gesture to her neat work still sitting on the table and the overturned bookshelf behind it, “I got a welcome distraction from my studies, and all you did was cause a mess. But it was easy for you, right?”

Malfoy’s nostrils flared.

“This was what you wanted?”

“Fuck off, you fowl–”

“I just bested you,” Hermione said, humor in her voice, her blood pumping joyfully. “You really want to insult me?”

“Don’t think that just because you’re still standing means you’ve won,” Malfoy growled.

“Oh, I would never.” Hermione lifted up the side of her mouth in a small smile. “The war is far from over.”

She walked back to her table and packed up her bag, acting quickly to quell the tears that suddenly pricked her eyes. There was a statement far more honest than she had been anticipating.

She sent her books flying to their shelves, tossing a “you’re going to clean all this up, right?” over her shoulder, and she tried not to laugh too vocally when one of her books landed happily on top of an overturned pile on the floor. Hermione turned to find Malfoy still against the wall, a hand rubbing at his forehead.

Gosh, what an odd evening.

“Well,” she said.

He looked down at the floor that separated them.

“Thank you for going easy on me.” Hermione pressed her lips together. “Because clearly, your powerful blood was too much for mine.”

Malfoy’s eyes flared and he started forward, jaw clenched–“you fucking–”

Hermione stepped back, her wand held in front. “Have fun cleaning, hm? See you in Potions tomorrow, Malfoy.”

She didn’t let herself break into a grin until she exited the room, didn’t turn around until the library door shut behind her, didn’t make a sound until she had confirmed it was only her in the dimly lit halls–

And then she spun around, looking at her hands and letting her bag swing from her arms–

She had done it. Her hands and this wand had overpowered this stupid boy. Her brain had worked fast, she had moved deftly, she wanted to tell someone–her parents, maybe–

She halted outside of the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. She couldn’t tell her parents, she really couldn’t. That would require them knowing that she had fought someone. That would require them knowing she was a target, there was a power hierarchy here far more dramatic than they realized.

“Well? You’ve already woken me up, are you just going to stand there?” Eugenia frowned from her position in the painting.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hermione shook her head. “Lutra lutra.”

“Alright,” Eugenia huffed, moving forward to let Hermione pass behind. “Maybe go to bed a little earlier from now on, huh? I was fast asleep until you came in…”

Hermione shut the door behind her and relaxed against it. She’d tell the boys in the morning. She winced. Or, maybe, she wouldn’t… they’d worry, too. They’d go after Malfoy, even though she had just handled it… they’d tell her to be even more careful. They’d tell her not to visit the library at night, perhaps.

And she liked her nighttime library visits. They were some of the only times she was alone. She got to spread out her books without wondering if someone would joke at her for their abundance. She could forget what it was and wasn’t normal for her to know, because all the information could be found somewhere in the room with her.

She bit her lip as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. No, she wouldn’t tell Harry or Ron. She’d just take a shower, grin giddily in the adrenaline high that still surrounded her, and then pass out in her bed until the morning came.

---

The boys were all asleep when he returned, soft snores and haphazardly-drawn curtains around their beds. Draco made sure to pull his all the way shut. He tended to need much more privacy than Nott did (he fell asleep starfished among the sheets with the moonlight shining across the bed) and he particularly didn’t want them to see these new bruises. He had already had to make up excuses for Granger's previous gifts–he had tripped, yes, clumsy lad.

Really, anything except for the fact that Hermione Granger had beat him, twice, barely two weeks apart.

His forearm forbade him from forgetting this fact, though. The snake bit the inside of his skin and flared up into faint hives.

He knew he hadn’t been trying tonight, the mental haze not letting up enough for him to really have a go at her. But he hadn’t expected her to be that quick, particularly when she had not previously prepared.

In class, Granger’s speed was one thing–he could understand being ready to prove one’s worth to the professor and peers. But going from deep in thought, scribbling away, to slamming him against the bookshelves in the next second and almost causing him to drop his wand in shock–

That was something else entirely.

He pressed his face into the pillow as his neck heated. The thing was, Granger had known she was good. She hadn’t shied away from it, as she did sometimes in class, or beamed like a childish puppy when being praised. She had held his eye contact when he hesitated and acted before he could think and her fucking composure was absolutely admirable.

And his brain wouldn’t move fast enough to allow him to find a way out, to come out on top. And the snake was pissed.

Merlin forbid this block ever happen around Voldemort. Hopefully fear would get in the way, banish the numbness. The snake would truly slither out of his skin then, unable to resist, so close to its master.

Around Granger, appearing weak was mortifying, but redeemable. Draco pulled his wand into his chest, hoping to drown into sleep soon. The morning would come, and the snake could berate him then.

---

The war was a full-time class on top of her already bursting course load, but there was no reason for her to complain about it–Harry’s scar hurt him every other day, he was not concerned enough about that stupid Potions book of his, and Ron was beginning to fall apart with the lack of sleep and stress, watching his two best friends crumble in slow motion. She couldn’t crumble. Never, and especially not when it would cause her joyful ginger to blotch red on his chest from emotion.

Days shortened, and while this was normal for cold autumn, the crowded common rooms and flickering fires didn’t feel quite as comforting as they usually did. The setting sun only reminded Hermione of how little time they had to prepare.

She tuned out the portraits’ mutterings as she rushed down the hall to catch dinner before it closed; she had gotten quite into an assignment for one of her classes, and had remained in the library long after her friends had departed.

It felt good to enjoy school, and Hermione had tucked her feet under her, leaning over the table and scribbling away. But her stomach’s hunger pains had grown too intense, and she had promised to meet up for dinner, so she shelved away her books for later and left the warm lull of the library.

Everyone was probably either at dinner already, or perhaps back in the common rooms… the sun barely let any light through the windows, it was so close to kissing the horizon.

Hermione sighed as she turned a corner, bringing up her hands to rub her sore and puffy eyes. Being awake for too long was, predictably, exhausting.

“Hey.”

Hermione yanked her hands away from her face and shook her head to herself. Malfoy stood a few paces in front of her.

He had left her alone in the week since their library fight. She wasn’t naïve enough to think he wouldn’t retaliate (again) but she truly had no time for this today. None of his tricks, none of his–

“Hey, come here.” Malfoy jerked his head in the direction of a broom closet, one hand holding it open and the other waving in her direction.

Eyebrows raised high. What did he think he was playing at now?

“Bug off.” She increased her pace and crossed her arms as she walked past him, chin held high.

“Get over–Granger–”

He reached out as if to grab at her and she flinched away. What the hell was he doing? “Back the fuck up–”

“Shut up,” he hissed, and she scoffed.

“Excuse me?”

A bang! hit the end of the hall in front of her and Hermione’s head shot in the direction. Shadows moved in the faint light, laughter and footsteps growing louder, and Malfoy grabbed at her arm and yanked, pulling her stumbling into the dark closet.

He had only just closed the door behind him when Hermione shoved him into it. “What the fuck–”

“Shut up, Granger,” he growled, “please–”

He clapped his hand over her mouth. Hermione’s eyes widened. Her knee flew up to hit him in the crotch.

He groaned and bent forward, his hand’s steady pressure over her mouth only increasing.

“Please,” he whispered, “you need to keep quiet…” he placed his other hand gently over her arm against the wall, turning around as if waiting for something outside of the closet. Hermione’s heart beat faster.

Okay, okay. She could knee him in the nuts again, punch him until he let go, grab her wand and–

Muffled, gruff: “thought you said she was all alone?” Crabbe.

“Yeah, she was. I saw her, headed this way.”

Malfoy exhaled shakily, his eyes darting over to meet Hermione’s, peering out above his hand on the lower half of her face. He broke their eye contact quickly, looking down while his hand remained on her mouth.

“Well, I’m all amped up, I was promised a bitch–”

“Yeah, Goyle, I know–”

“You should know, you were the one who promised her to me–”

“The Mudblood was here, I’m telling you.”

Hermione blinked and reached for her wand in her pocket.

“Seriously, I had told Father he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this shit this year,” Crabbe continued. “But Draco’s just being a moody piss so far–”

“I’m too used to him rounding up the Mudbloods for us. You’re nowhere near as good at it.”

Hermione paused, her wand halfway between pressing against Malfoy’s side, so he would step away from her, and slamming the door wide open so she could hex the Slytherins into oblivion. But Malfoy noticed her movement and shook his head slowly at her, his eyes open wide. He pressed a bit further against her arm. The message was clear: stay here.

But his jaw fidgeted and he struggled to swallow, and when Hermione moved her arm to place her hand on his forearm, that was shaking, too. They were still, save their joined arms–Malfoy’s fingers shivered against Hermione’s elbow, and she found that his rattled too, when her fingertips placed on top of his robes. He blinked quickly and Crabbe and Goyle’s voices grew quieter, and it really was odd, that Malfoy was more scared than she.

Hermione bit her lip. Draco's face rippled as he felt this movement against his palm. He lifted it away, their arms still connected by their sides.

She could barely see his face in the dark, just the vague reflection of scattered light in his eyes. “What are you doing,” she whispered.

“I…” his voice was soft. His fingers cold. She watched his gaze drift down to their odd forearm hold. “I had to get you out of there.”

Her chest coiled. Hermione yanked her arm backwards. Malfoy looked stunned, shaken, startled out of the moment as she pushed him aside and flooded the hall light into the closet. The hallway was empty, Goyle and Crabbe gone, a stark lack of portraits on the walls to witness what could have been an insidious attack.

Hermione fumed. “You cannot–” she paced, turning around, her hands flying to her head as Malfoy slowly exited the closet. “You can’t just–I’m not–”

“You would have preferred I let them at you?” Malfoy drawled, an eyebrow raised.

Hermione scoffed, eyes raising to the ceiling. “And what were you doing the other day? Attempting the exact same thing?”

Malfoy pushed a hand through his hair. “No, that wasn’t…”

“Absolute shite,” Hermione declared, and she shook her head when Malfoy started and met her eyes. “Total shite. I could have handled myself against those two prats just as I annihilated you. What was this?”

He shrugged. Glanced around the hallway again. “There’s only so much I can do.”

His cheeks colored faintly, and Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s an absolutely rubbish lie.”

“I have orders,” he hissed.

Hermione balked, her arms crossing. Her eyes jumped in between his. “You…”

“I shouldn’t–”

“You have orders?” She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “You are–”

“I have no choice–fuck off–”

“You cannot tell me to fuck off, you just pulled me into this goddamned closet and you’re going to go back to your orders?” She saw his eyebrows raise at the Muggle swear, but his mouth remained shut. “You–” She felt a jolt in her stomach and whipped her wand in front of her. “Back away.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to–”

“What the hell are your orders, Malfoy?” she hissed. “To seclude me, isolate me away, and then murder me? Are you targeting each of the Mudbloods, one at a time?”

His face lost all its color. He jerked his head side to side. “No.”

“The one who’s been the biggest pain in your arse first? The one who you’ve hated the longest?”

“I don’t–”

“Back up.”

Malfoy shut his eyes and stepped backwards. They were grey when they met hers again, always grey, but worse now. Hermione inhaled.

“Again,” she ordered.

Malfoy rolled his eyes but did as she asked. He was back inside the closet now, and Hermione held his gaze for a long moment before she slammed the door shut with a wave of her wand and set a timed lock on the door. She exhaled and walked closer. This awful, awful war.

Who was giving Malfoy orders? An idiotic question, an obvious answer.

Merlin.

Whose orders did he want to disobey?

#dramione #dramione fic #dramione fanfic #dramione angst #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #hp #harry potter #hp fic #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #writing #arewelonely #gn mes amours

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honestsycrets · 4 years

Text

The Gods Only Knew || [ Hvitserk x Reader x Ivar ]

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader, ivar x reader (platonic? shit i dunno)

❛ type | series

❛ summary | Oleg brought you to a Thing. You’re pretty sure you know why-- despite your lover’s presence.

❛ tags | secret relationships, arranged marriage, brotherly tension, not really a love triangle, unless ya’ll want one, asshole oleg, like usual.

❛ sy’s notes | i wrote this on request for my-little-wolfe, but it isn’t exactly what she wanted. Patreons, I’m really sorry. I went to post this but it seems like the platform has been down.

The gods knew why Oleg made you come on his impossible trip to Norway. There was more than one reason to be here, he said. With Oleg-- you always had to be a step ahead. Always prepared for what would be inevitable. The inevitable was as you knew it.

Oleg had someone he wanted you to meet during this Alþing. As a woman of minor influence, you surely wouldn’t be involved in the creation of new laws or an agreement for the future. You knew he wanted you to meet someone to marry someone despite knowing very good and well that you already wanted someone.

So yes, the gods knew why Oleg made you come on his impossible trip to Norway-- and maybe you did too. It wasn’t as if he needed your consent to marry you off.

You sat with your falcon upon your wrist. On the outskirts of the gathering, you were well aware of the men coming in and out, boasting about their sexual prowess or lack thereof. More likely, lack thereof.

Olga squawked as Dym slashed at the meaty carcass of a small game animal between her fingers. She loved the thrill of feeding him, but not so much watching him snatch it from her. You watched Dym pick and swallow with envious ease.

“I’m sure its nothing,” Olga said. “It is-- well, he probably wanted the company.”

You turned your head over, propping your cheek on your hand. “And that’s why he wanted me to wear this dress.”

“Well--” Olga puffed out her lower lip. She’s struggling to make up a good enough excuse. You don’t blame her. You would too. “At times we should--”

“Should what?” you snapped. “He’s lying to me.”

You just knew it. The only evidence you needed was whoever he would have you meet. You had your suspicions and your hopes. “It isn’t him he wants me to marry.”

“Have a little faith in him.”

You watched Dym swallow his catch of the day and imagine Oleg probably looks the same as he negotiated trades-- or rather, threatened his way through them. You smoothed out your skirt and stood, holding Dym on your wrist.

“It’s hard to when he’s a tyrant. I’m going to shop.”

The journey into the sea of tents was a short walk. Male boys soared past you into the maze of testosterone and their own simple troubles. On occasion, you might have the occasional child, a girl, who stopped to marvel at your presence.

“You’re a princess!” an exclamation of the headdress, rather than a question.

You smiled chastely, “Unfortunately.”

The blonde-haired girl barely understood what you meant now. But maybe, one day, she would. You pressed into the makeshift village. Your fingers had barely run across a fine fur when you heard boots tapping down from the tent’s roof. You glanced up in time to catch a whirl of green and pale skin touch down. The pleats of Dym’s peppered wings outstretched, almost to take off, but you quickly snapped back.

“Prince Hvitserk,” snapped the old vendor, a man from Kattegat, where Hvitserk was born and raised. “Don’t tell me you’re up to your old antics.”

“Old habits die hard, old man.” Hvitserk looked that way, then another, sliding carefully behind you as if to wait for you to finish. It was a lie-- the edges of his fingers considered the back of your dress, tracing the loops of the fabric looped into a bow with his fingertips.

“Here to see my wares?”

“I’m in need of a new coat.” He answers.

He’s being brazen. Many days had not yet passed since you arrived here for the Thing where food and goods would be traded. Hvitserk acted as if-- he was fearful of nothing. The old man’s eyes crinkled in fuller wrinkles, knowingly pushing aside his table.

“Perhaps you should come look at my finer stock.”

“What a good idea. You’re full of them today.” Hvitserk stepped inside. You on the other hand did not. Not until the old vendor gestured his hand with a flick of his head. “Hurry on then. I remember being young. Go before the eyes find you.”

Inside the tent, you did find wealthier furs and capes. There was a place where an old woman was mending cloaks, sitting with an old elegancy you hoped to only come upon in your old age, should you get there. Thwacking behind another flap, you were tugged to the side.

Dym didn’t appreciate that either.

“Ow fuck--” Hvitserk jerked his leather-clad wrist back, not at all ignorant of the bird that was so stubbornly protective of its master, but rather annoyed as you found a stand for one of the old man’s birds. “I thought you taught him not to bite.”

“Not to bite?” you asked, verging on laughter. You set Dym on the stand to sit, languidly moving toward Hvitserk. He brought his leather gauntlet up to motion toward the striations that dominated his wrist.

Hvitserk hissed. “Yes not to bite-- what else?”

“He wouldn’t if you didn’t scare him.” You took his wrist, setting a small kiss to the affected area. Hvitserk hummed appreciatively for the motion. “Maybe I can live with it.”

“I wasn’t sure that you’d come.” He takes a step forward-- and you take one back-- back and back until your back connects with the lip of a table. You pull yourself on top of the heavy table, complete with a pile of furs from small game animals. Ones that the old man surely would sell out of before long.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you kept him ignorant of the truth, partially, because you wanted to be ignorant of it too. It was better when his breath was warm and gentle against your lips, close enough to be familiar. His thin lips pull from their usual flat lipped appeal, pulling with a practiced smile.

“I don’t know. I thought he wouldn’t let you,” he moves his lips soundlessly against the corner of your lips. Small, practiced butterfly kisses verged on a genuine full kiss to your lips. You leaned into the warmth of his cracked lips, only to receive his typical well rounded kiss, the one that said he wanted something else. Then, he moved on, drawing one after another against your neck, the occasional bite that had you smacking him--

“Don’t do that!”

“Why not?” he heaved, his breath was hot and warm, and how could you deny him?

“He’ll see.”

“Then let him see.”

Ten kings were gathered for the Alþing that warm summer evening where the warm waters ran freely, cascading down a local waterfall that set a calm and tranquil backdrop to the warm flicker of an open fire that kissed his cheeks inside a full tent. Ivar’s food had gone bad in a span of minutes in his lap.

Oleg has a way of ruining food. All kinds of food-- doesn’t matter what it is. The way he leans on the edge of the boundaries of society and never means the truth. It truly aggravates him. Ivar might be on the outside looking in but--

At least he means what he says.

“Why don’t you let my brother marry her?” Ivar said.

Sitting across from him at the blacksmith’s tent was Oleg the Prophet. His hair was cut short, smooth with the violent tattoos that marked him as a chieftain of his people; those who sailed east and came back to trade their wealth of goods. This year, he would trade more than honey and slaves.

“He’s insignificant.”

Ivar glanced through the open flaps where you rushed out beside Hvitserk from the old man’s tent. Your long skirt tumbled over the grass. The little children seemed to notice that, stopping you to talk, before they would scurry on. It had gotten late. Night had fallen. You donned Hvitserk’s dark fur. He shared something sweet with you at the tent next to the old man’s, smoothing his finger over your plump lip, and no one said anything. No one would say anything-- a son of Ragnar, a sister of the prophet.

Hvitserk was brazen. Ivar’s head swayed one side then snapped to another. In a rare flicker of empathy, Ivar spoke without weighing his options properly. “I’ve taken too much from him.”

Oleg sat imposingly across from him. His heavy boots propped on a smooth rock, and as he leaned into the flickering flame, it was to bully him into what he wanted. “Come on, Ivar the Boneless. You can’t tell me you’re denying my alliance?”

“No--” he looked ahead, bent over the axe in his lap. “What I am saying is--” the words stutter on their way out, rare for Ivar who normally bore his father’s silver tongue. He gestures with his metal pick, “Look at them.”

Oleg does him that favour and looks where you both stood. Hvitserk bent to whisper something into your ear. Something that the tooth locked prophet hasn’t missed, not in the way you clutched your long waterfall sleeves to your lips, smiling, nodding. He almost lurched up, his brow scrunched up in annoyance.

“What of it?”

“They are in love,” Ivar leaned into the prophet. “How can I take that from him?”

Oleg stared in a way that supplied his reply. “It is easy. You tell them or we can eliminate him entirely.”

“Are you threatening my brother?”

“Do I need to?”

He’s reminded of Hvitserk’s oath. He was going to submit himself to the element of violence-- and in return, he expected Ivar’s renewed loyalty. Unspoken forgiveness. The guards standing watch outside the door are reflections of the men Oleg holds over Ivar’s newly established troops as king.

“Come on Ivar the Boneless… I did not think you were such a stupid man. Here,” Oleg barked your name. “I’ll show you.” You scurried in, setting Dym in his cage, before looking toward Ivar and Oleg.

There’s a sudden realization that spreads across your face-- as if you want to say you knew it, but with your hand tense on the fur, you’re more concerned with whether or not Oleg had seen everything. Ivar looks down, his nails bitting the thickened skin of his palms.

“What is it?” you asked. Hvitserk trailed your steps. He stopped when Ivar’s hand shot out to cut him off from going a step further. His hand tremors. Oleg seized you by the shoulders and sat you down where he once sat, bending in nice and close, where his short-cropped beard itched your rosy cheek.

“You’re marrying Ivar.”

When Hvitserk looked at him, he knew he was fucked. Ivar swallowed dryly and accepts the wealth of eyes upon him when Oleg steps away. “You see?” he pats Ivar on the shoulder on his way out. “It is that easy.”

He knew that look. He’s been here before. Only this time-- he wanted to shout, rather than explain to his brother, that it wasn’t his fault. You sobbed something out but he only catches the end of it. No, no. Hvitserk knelt before you. Ivar faded into the background of the tawny tent.

He’s fucked.

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#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk/reader #hvitserk imagine #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings/reader #Vikings x Reader #honestsycrets fic

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olderjustneverwiser · 4 years

Text

Say You’ll Stay With Me Tonight (Draco Malfoy)

Y'all, I don’t know where the hell this came from.

I’ve been all up in my Draco feels, and this came out. It’s literally just an excuse for me to tell Draco that he’s not a terrible person. It’s funny, though, because Draco is the first person I ever wrote for years ago. Guess I’ve come full circle.

Also I love these two and want to write everything about them.

ALSO, I added in the deleted scene from the movie because fuck it, Draco deserved better and I’m giving it to him.

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, talks of death, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

Set after the Battle of Hogwarts. Slytherin reader. As always, thanks to @moresvuheadcanons.

Enjoy!

The war was over.

After years of fear, hatred, and death. After countless late-night, hushed discussions between your parents, strange men in black robes visiting your home and the rise and fall of Him, it was over. The wizarding world could breathe a collective sigh of relief as you all stood in the Hogwarts courtyard, overlooking while Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, once and for all. There would be no third coming of the great Lord Voldemort. He was gone, reduced to dust and a heinous memory.

Most cheered the victory, while others looked on mourning the fallen. Some, mostly ministry officials, went right on to their work; rounding up the remaining Death Eaters and counting the dead. Students hugged friends in celebration, while others cried for the ones they’d lost too soon. You, however, had only one mission: finding Draco.

The two of you had fought the second half of the battle side by side. You had grown up together, it seemed only fitting that you would most likely die together in the carnage. Yet by some stroke of luck, you both had survived. At least until Voldemort came back from the forest, Potter’s limp body hanging from Hagrid’s hands.

It killed you to see Draco walk to His side. Deep down, you knew he was only doing so because of his mother, but it hurt all the same. You wanted so badly to call out to him; beg him not to go, but the green emblem on your school sweater made you a prime recruit for Voldemort, so you forced yourself to stay quiet and hidden. All you could do was silently will Draco to stand up for himself, to stay and fight, but ultimately you had to watch as he walked away. However, just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Potter jumped from Hagrid’s grip, and you watched as Draco tossed him his wand.

That was the last time you had seen Draco, and given that he had helped Harry Potter right in front of Voldemort, it was safe to assume Draco was dead. The thought alone filled you with dread unlike any you’d ever felt.

You roamed the corridors, ignoring the stares of passersby. You knew you were a spectacle; your fellow wizards and witches were judging you based simply on your House at the school you fought to protect only moments ago. Never mind the fact that you had fought a war primarily based on judgements and prejudice. You fought for the light, for Potter; you were even prepared to fight against your own parents, yet people still only saw you as a Slytherin, child of a Death Eater, a bad person.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about that and focus on the task at hand. Eventually you reached the Great Hall, thankful you didn’t see his body among those that had been found. You looked for people you were friendly with; Lovegood, Blaise, but no one knew where Draco was. The feeling in your gut only worsened as you worked with your former classmates until late into the night, with no sign of Draco Malfoy.

It had been a week since the battle.

Countless hours listening to reports of bodies found in the wreckage at Hogwarts. Reading about Azkaban sentences and acquittals and how the school was rebuilding. Learning that the Malfoys were cleared of all charges and seeing their photo in the Prophet gave you some relief in knowing that Draco was alive, but you decided to keep your distance for a while. Let him decompress. Things had become strained between you since your sixth year, and the last thing you wanted to do was bombard him.

But, you were restless and needed to see him.

After a week of hiding out in your home, you apparated to the manor. As you made your way to the huge double doors, memories flooded your mind of your time here. Learning to fly with Draco in the backyard. Studying constellations on clear nights. Dancing in the vast ballroom of the manor at a Christmas soiree Narcissa put on in your fifth year.

Your thoughts were interrupted by one of the large doors swinging open before you even made it to the door knocker and you were greeted by a house elf, who seemed to remember you.

“He’s in the study,” you heard the house elf squeak out as he let you in, then quickly disapparate. It had been years since you’d set foot in the manor, but the memories of its long halls and hidden rooms were still clear in your mind. Following the dark hallway, you remembered running through these halls with Draco as children, playing tag without a care in the world.

Oh, how you’d wish to go back to those simpler times. Before all of the chaos and despair.

You shook those thoughts away as you neared the entryway of the study. It was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint crackling of a fireplace. You crossed the threshold and saw Draco, or at least part of him. He was sitting on a large sofa with his back to the entryway, his platinum hair the only part of him you could see. You thought it best not to sneak up on him, given everything he’d been through over the past couple years, so you stood back and called his name as softly as you could.

“Draco.”

Before you uttered the last syllable, he was on his feet, wand pointed directly at you, with a look in his eyes that you could only describe as pure fear.

“Oi! It’s only me, mate. It’s okay.” You held your open palms up in surrender, waiting for him to realize that you weren’t a threat. He slowly lowered his wand, shoulders sagging just enough to let you know he was okay. You stepped forward cautiously, until he set his wand on the seat next to his.

“How’d you get in?”

“Your house elf still remembers me.” He nodded once, just barely, and once again took his seat on the sofa. God, he looked thin. He’d always had a slender frame, but he never looked this sickly; not even when you had fought by his side only days ago. His cheekbones and chin were more pointed than ever, and the dark circles under his eyes has never been more pronounced. Even his hands looked thinner.

Guess that’s what living with the embodiment of evil for a year does to you.

“Where’s Narcissa and Lucius?” You asked, taking your seat in the plush armchair next to the sofa.

“Left the country on holiday. They wanted to ‘get away from it all,’ as they put it.”

“And they left you here alone?” You questioned. Draco only shrugged, his eyes never leaving the flames of the fire across from him.

You weren’t looking at the fire, though. Instead, your eyes were on him. This wasn’t the boy you’d known. The boy you’d loved since you were twelve. This was a ghost of him. You suspected the boy you loved had been dying a slow death ever since Voldemort had come to him with an offer he, quite frankly, could not refuse even though he’d wanted to.

What do you say in this situation? 'How are you?’ 'What’s on your mind?’ Everything that came to mind seemed stupid and pointless, so you settled for staying silent.

Thankfully, Draco broke the silence before you had to. “Have you heard from your parents?”

“No.”

“Are they alive?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“They would have murdered me without a second thought if they knew I was fighting for the light so no, not really.” Your eyes fell to his left forearm; he was fiddling with his sleeve and it had rolled up just enough to see the very bottom of the Dark Mark.

Draco noticed you staring and lifted his sleeve even more, allowing you to see the mark in its entirety. It was an open secret in Slytherin that Draco had taken the mark. He never talked about it, but you all knew it was there. Still, to see it for yourself; to see that ugly stain on his skin made your stomach turn.

“I’ve thought about trying to cut it off, you know,” he said, so nonchalantly he could have been talking about the weather outside. However the weight of his words hit you like a freight train, and you felt the breath being sucked out of your lungs. You were at a complete loss for words. Do you tell him that it pained you to imagine a world without him? That even though things had gotten so strained between the two of you, you couldn’t bare the thought of losing him like that? Do you tell him that, in spite of all the bad he had done, you had always seen the good he could have been, given the chance?

“Draco, what-”

“It’s-it’s not like I want to not be here anymore. I’m just tired. Tired of looking at this bloody thing and being reminded of all the pain I’ve caused.”

“I’m willing to bet you didn’t have a choice.”

His eyes snapped to you, and you noted the shine of fresh tears threatening to spill over red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t know what I’d been tasked to do. I let them into the school, I was supposed to kill Dumbledore, I-”

“So, why didn’t you do it? Kill him, I mean.” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him.

He hesitated, trying to keep his voice steady while tears trickled slowly down his cheeks, “I never wanted this to happen. I thought I did, when I was younger. But, I never wanted people to die, I never wanted any of it."

"Draco, you’re just a boy who grew up with an ego the size of the moon and a terrible role model for a father. You weren’t a bad person growing up, you were just an ass with a legacy to live up to. And as far as this death eater shit, I know you wouldn’t have done it if you had a choice. It was your father’s actions that brought you to that point, Draco. I’m sure of it.” You paused as a tear of your own escaped, but you continued on. “And, when it really mattered, you helped the light. Or did I just imagine you hexing Death Eaters next to me, or tossing Potter your wand?”

“So, you’re trying to say that I’m a good person, even after all of this?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

He chuckled, actually chuckled at your last statement. “Thank you.”

“You know I meant every word,” you replied, hoping he believed you. Once again, silence fell over the room, only this time it was a calm, comfortable one. You wanted to stay with him; hell, you’d stay forever if he would ask you to, but you weren’t sure if that’s what he wanted. You sure as hell weren’t going to ask to stay, so you stood to leave.

“Well, now that I’ve stroked your ego and raised your spirits a bit, I think I’m going to go,” you said, a test to see how he’d react. You stepped over his outstretched legs to leave, but he grabbed your hand, his skin icy even after sitting by the roaring fire.

“Stay, please?” He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. The pain and loneliness he was feeling was evident in his voice, and of course, you weren’t going to say no.

So you nodded and took a seat again, this time on the sofa right next to Draco. You expected him to let your hand go, but instead he laced his fingers with yours. You felt a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as the two of you looked on at the fire.

In that moment, you felt peace, and for the first time in a long time, you felt that maybe, one day, all would be well.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #hp #harry potter #draco deserved better #hp imagine #harry potter fic #draco malfoy fic #harry potter imagine #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy angst

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

PADFOOT RETURNS

Favorite chapter of this book! I don't care you still don't need to know this.

HPHPHPHPHP

Sirius, who clearly still had that last task stuck in his craw, grumbled at Harry, "Well this does prove I was right about Krum, and Cedric. Anyone who leaves those other kids down in that lake are to be avoided by you at all costs."

Lily was frowning down at the little infant in her arms sadly, but still tried for some good, "I don't know Sirius, maybe we were being too harsh on them. Cedric at least, after all, before I heard about Harry's first year it never would have crossed my mind Dumbledore wouldn't put some contingency in place to make sure the unrescued kids came back to the surface. Cedric hasn't had the same bad feelings about Dumbledore recently as we had, I'm sure he just had faith enough not to take that song literally."

Sirius rolled his eyes, clearly not in all agreement, but Remus had a happy smile in place, clearly liking to the idea. "You gave me an interesting idea about Krum as well, what if he saw Dumbledore talking to those merpeople, and pieced the whole thing together from there."

"I can see that," Lily instantly agreed, "he's been staying out on the lake, any Durmstrang student could have seen Dumbledore discussing the task with them, or even more realistically, I'll bet Karkaroff told Krum as soon as he knew that he only had to worry about his one hostage."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Karkaroff did know the others would drown and told Krum to leave them down there anyways," Sirius rolled his eyes at the two of them." *

Harry and James exchanged a look, clearly realizing Sirius was looking to pick a fight, while everyone else just wanted to move on away from that task, so Harry leaned over to Sirius and gently restrained, "I'm positive I'll take your advice as seriously after the task as I did before."

Sirius was instantly derailed, turning back to Harry with a brilliant smile as he declared, "Well how else would you take advice from me?"

Lily and Remus rolled their eyes at him and looked pleadingly at James to go while he had the chance.

James still had a stupid happy smile stuck in place, hoping beyond all measure that Harry would just breeze through the last task and that until that had to arrive they'd spend the rest of his school year hearing of nothing more than homework and actual fun things to laugh about.

One highlight of the aftermath of this task, was Ron getting far more attention than Harry for once.

"Why?" Sirius couldn't help but ask, some nasty memories resurfacing of the last time Ron had been in the limelight, that hadn't been pleasant for Sirius. "Ron was asleep the whole time."

"Everyone saw Fleur kiss him along with Harry," Remus reminded, "and I can all to easily picture Harry shoving Ron in the way when anyone asked why."

People were clamoring to hear his time down in the lake, and at first Ron seemed to be telling the truth. How the teachers had collected them, promised their safety, and he'd awaken when he reached the surface. A week later however, his tale had been embellished to include a fight for his life against a dozen merpeople, single handedly defending all of the women as they forced him under.

"I like the second story better," James beamed. "Its sounds like a thrilling tale."

"Ron's always been the best at those," Sirius snickered in agreement.

He made sure to assure Padma, who'd been much more taken with Ron since all this started, that he'd had the situation under control that whole time.

"Of course," Lily huffed with disgust at such a flighty girl. Ron acting like this was giving her some annoying flashbacks to James as well, so she wasn't going to pretend to enjoy any of this.

Hermione was not as pleased with his little stunts. She'd been snappish lately with all the people mocking her for being Viktor's missing person, and whenever she caught Ron she'd snap all he could do was snore them to submission.

"Teasing might not affect Hermione," James couldn't help a sympathetic smile for her, "but it certainly gets to her."

"Notes for the future," Harry said simply.

Ron blanched in surprise at her quip, and quickly went back to the real version afterwards.

"Least Hermione keeps him in place," Lily approved.

March came with drier weather, but cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time they went out onto the grounds.

"I miss Quidditch," James sighed.

Owl post was getting delayed slightly by the buffeting winds, but Sirius' brown owl still managed to make a landing the Friday before Hogsmeade. It took off the moment Harry untied the note, clearly not up for making a return trip.

Harry was the only one who gave a laugh, the others were to on edge for the reply. Sirius' last note had not been promising.

This letter was almost as short as the previous one, simply requesting Harry meet him at an old stile in the back of Hogsmeade at two tomorrow, and to bring food.

They all sat there in a bit of dumbfounded silence for a moment.

Lily cracked first, saying with the most sincerity than she ever had in her life, "I am going to strangle you."

"Bring food?" James demanded, his voice cracking on the last word so that he couldn't have continued if he'd wanted to. James felt like an idiot, he'd made the joke himself that Sirius would probably have to steal a cake, but how much was he eating on the run?

Sirius had a torn look on his face, somewhere between he wanted to laugh them all off for thinking he was in danger like his usual idiotic self, and the rest was curiosity. He somehow managed to ask as if for the weather, "wonder what I'm up to."

"Would you please, for just a moment, pretend like this is dangerous," Remus sighed.

Sirius clucked his tongue at him in agitation, stating, "Never stopped me before. I'm just curious what I finally couldn't put in a letter, or maybe I'm just sick of owl post and want to see my Godson."

The baby in Lily's lap had been growing increasingly fussy, so Lily excused herself to put him down for a nap while still muttering about murder.

James fidgeted with the pages until she got back, honestly debating holding him down for her the whole time, but in the end he reminded himself it wouldn't be fair to murder Sirius just for mouthing off in here. In fact James was almost getting his wish, at least Harry and Sirius having a conversation face to face should be some modicum of fun, his best friend was probably right and just wanted to check in on Harry and no one should be looking for him in Hogsmeade, this should turn out fine.

Harry and Hermione were incredulous he'd really come back, but Ron brushed them off and said he'd been away from dementors this long, he obviously knew what he was doing.

"Thank you Ron," Sirius said a little extra loudly, still with an insufferably cocky look in place that no one was going to catch him.

As Harry tucked away his letter, he was surprised that he honestly felt better with the idea of seeing Sirius again.

"Ha!" Sirius barked in triumph, while Harry was in such a good mood with the most recent task finally being over he couldn't do anything but roll his eyes back.

So he headed down to his Potions class in a much better mood than normal.

Of course that was ruined the moment he saw the standard group of Slytherins all standing in a group, snickering over something.

"Well this never starts well," Lily grumbled, clearly the only one clinging to her unease over Sirius. She was equally annoyed at her boys trying to brush this off as a spot of fun, and just as unwilling to argue it otherwise. She relinquished Sirius had been out long enough it wasn't one hundred percent suicidal to come back, more like seventy five.

Pansy caught sight of them first, gesturing wildly at them to get the others attention.

"I'm with Lily," Remus groaned, "prepare to be annoyed just by that."

Harry saw a magazine in her hands, Witch Weekly.

"Guess that's better than the Daily Prophet," Sirius narrowed his eyes shrewdly.

"Not by much," James grumbled.

Then Pansy gave the paper a toss to Hermione, telling her she should have a good read of it. At that moment Snape opened the door, and they all had to file in.

"Of course this had to happen inside there," Sirius snapped, "at least when this stuff comes up in Care of Creatures you know Hagrid'll back you up."

"I'm sure they planned it this way just for that," Lily sniffed.

The three friends set up their cauldrons in the back of the room like always, but instead of pulling out their ingredients they all leaned over Hermione's magazine as she riffled through it.

The piece wasn't hard to find, another photo of Harry was spotted over the title Harry Potter's Secret Heartache. The article starts by reminding everyone that Harry had grown up without love while being deprived of his parents,

Lily and James flushed in hatred already for this, did that have to keep coming up!

was at least equaled out with the love he'd seemed to find in his school life was Hermione Granger.

"Didn't this already come up?" Sirius scoffed, "Skeeter must be running out of material if she's rehashing your love life."

"Let's hope she just runs out altogether soon," Harry sighed.

Sadly for Harry, he may not even be aware of his own suffering. Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl,

"She needs to keep her own story straight," Remus reminded, "she keeps changing her own description of just how pretty she thinks Hermione is."

"We've well established her facts change to fit her story," Lily huffed.

had recently been seen in more company of Viktor Krum. Clearly the girl had a love of famed Quidditch players, though it was clear neither boy knew of the other. Krum himself had been heard saying he'd never felt this way about another girl, even inviting her to his country over the summer.

The real crux was, it most likely wasn't Miss Granger's charm the cause of this.

Skeeter had interviewed a few students to get the real story, and Pansy Parkinson had happily stepped up in the story to report how intelligent Hermione was, it was more than possible Hermione was using Love Potions on these boys.

Love Potions were banned at Hogwarts of course, and this reporter only hoped the matter would be looked into soon before someone's heart was broken forever.

"That's all there is," James finished with a disappointed shake in his head, "thankfully. I'm relieved, I was fixing to start laughing at how ridiculous that was."

"I can still see why Skeeter tried to go that way for Hermione," Lily shook her head furiously, "that really would be traumatizing for some girls to have that printed about them."

"Hopefully Hermione'll take this as she did the other one," Remus said.

Ron was furious for Hermione, even as he couldn't stop an I told you so for her. Skeeter had gone and printed this about Hermione, turning her into a scarlet woman.

"Well he's not wrong," Lily couldn't resist a smile for Ron.

Hermione stopped looking down at the paper and began to laugh at Ron's choice of words, now shaking with giggles.

"I'm sure that's the exact reaction Skeeter was hoping Hermione would have," James beamed with pride.

"Laughing in the face of it all," Sirius agreed at once, "best way to face life."

"You're still not off the hook mister," Lily told him at once. "If you get yourself caught and killed for being an idiot, I'm going to kill you."

"And just what's it to you?" Sirius demanded with an impetuous smirk, clearly all at ease with digging his own grave.

"It means a great deal to me," Remus sniffed back, his mind scrambling to play this off and blast away the worry really eating at them. "As I take great comfort in knowing it'll be my hand that'll be the death of you one day."

Sirius most likely would have kept going, for some deranged reason he seemed to feel the way to make them feel better was throwing out more jokes at this, but James was in no way amused and kept reading loudly around them.

Ron said that's what his mum called them.

Hermione was not impressed, saying if that was the best Skeeter could do, she'd lost her touch.

"As if she ever had one," Lily scoffed, "so far all of her stories have been nothing but dribble."

The Slytherins were watching her expectantly for a reaction, but Hermione simply waved pleasantly at them.

"Never let it be said Hermione doesn't know how to play a situation," James smiled happily at the girl.

The three finally began on their potion for today, a Wit-Sharpening Potion.

Only a few minutes in though, Hermione began how odd it was

"That Snape's never used that Wit-Sharpening Potion on himself," Remus offered with wide eyed innocence.

about Skeeter knowing...

When she trailed off, Ron quickly yelped in surprise if she had been making Love Potions?

"That was his first thought?" James snorted.

"Not that I believe she'd do it," Lily shrugged, "but I'd be the last person to be surprised that she could. Ron would know the same thing."

Hermione snapped at him for being stupid, no what she was surprised was how Skeeter knew about Krum inviting her to Bulgaria.

"I thought that was just more made up stuff," Sirius said in surprise.

She was blushing in embarrassment by the end of admitting to this.

Ron dropped his pestle in shock as he looked at her.

Hermione tried to ignore this and quickly got the whole thing out, telling out he'd asked her just after he'd pulled her out of the lake.

Ron demanded what her answer was, now trying to grind up his desk more than his ingredients.

All four of them were snickering now, though at least trying to hide it at Harry's bewildered stare. He wasn't sure if they were laughing at Ron or something else altogether like he was thinking, but did not want to discuss it.

Hermione tried to ignore him, unsuccessfully by going all the more red, as she agreed he'd been quoted saying he'd never felt this way about another girl.

"I cannot believe she's actually admitting this to them," Remus shook his head.

"This is why Hermione needs some friends who are girls," Lily sighed for the poor thing. She knew full well how that could feel.

That didn't explain how Skeeter knew this, she hadn't been around when Krum had said that, no one had. Perhaps she'd had an Invisibility Cloak on and was sneaking around?

"Would not put it past her," James grumbled.

Ron repeatedly demanded what her answer to Krum had been, knocking the desk so hard with his pestle he put a dent in it.

"I'm thinking Ron wants an answer to that," Sirius raised a brow.

"What on earth gave you that idea?" James kept trying to repress giggles while continuing.

Hermione began to admit that she hadn't a chance to answer before Harry appeared- but was cut off by Snape saying from behind them that he was docking ten points from Gryffindor for discussing their business in his class.

Amusement instantly gone and snatched away because of that insect, no one had the heat to snap at him this time, it went without saying at this point.

The whole class turned as Snape hovered over the three of them, Harry getting another wave of POTTER STINKS badges from Malfoy.

"Might as well glue that to his arse, or his forehead, same thing at this point," Sirius huffed.

Snape caught sight of the magazine, docking another ten points for having this in class, then finding the article and even reading the title out loud.

Lily was gnashing her teeth furiously to hold back the abundance of things she'd like to throw in his face for all the petty comments. It was sick how he was living his dream come true, being able to humiliate her son at every opportunity, when most likely he was really looking down on James in all these moments.

The dungeon rang with the Slytherins' laughter, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. Going one step further, Snape then began to read the article aloud.

"I-He!" Remus spluttered, sure he must have heard that one wrong.

"There's logic for you," James lip curled, "he took their points away for reading it, and then reads it. Remind me again why I never got around to blowing this one to Norway?"

"Don't ask me mate," Sirius was glaring at nothing and not even pretending it was a joke, "I suggested at least once a week we hogtie him and leave him to the Forest, but no one would let me do it."

"Next time you get the opportunity," Remus told him sincerely, "I'll run interference while you get the rope."

They snarked on long enough at the injustice of this, but James forced himself to reread that bilge through Snape.

The whole thing came across ten times worse in Snape's cruel tones.

When he was done, Snape came to the conclusion it was time to split these three up to keep them on their work. He made Ron stay where he was, moved Hermione to sit by Pansy,

"Please tell me Hermione's brilliant enough to make that blow up without her noticing," Lily pleaded of nothing.

and put Harry in the table in front of his desk.

"I'll pause for the miracle he didn't put him beside Malfoy," James groaned, an honest toss up of which would have been worse, Harry next to him or continued interaction with Snape!

Harry furiously obeyed, dragging his cauldron to the front and slamming into his new seat to continue his potion.

Snape retook his seat but Harry refused to look up at him, determined not to give Snape the satisfaction of seeing how angry he was as he began smashing his own scarab beetles, imagining each one as Snape's face.

"You know what, I like Harry's idea better," Sirius nodded along. "It'd be much more personal and fun to turn him into a potion ingredient."

"Won't deny loving the irony of that," James agreed.

Snape began whispering for Harry's ears alone how all of this press attention was inflating his already large head.

Harry denied response, he knew Snape was trying to provoke him, he'd done so before.

"When did Snape provoke you before?" Lily cast her mind back. "He seems much more fond of humiliating the life out of you and then docking points."

"When he found out I had the Map," Harry reminded, "tried to get me into admitting I'd been visiting Hogsmeade."

"Oh yeah," she rolled her eyes at that resurfacing memory of him taking potshots at James. The incident with Remus afterwards had burned that away a bit.

No doubt Snape was hoping to take a whole fifty points from Gryffindor before class was up.

"The day is just wasted if you haven't," Sirius scowled.

Snape persisted in saying that Harry may be delusional enough to think the whole world was in love with him, ignoring the fact that Harry had long since turned his beetles into a fine powder, but Snape knew better. He didn't care how many times Harry was in the papers,

"Really?" Harry mock outraged with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "Because I've been putting in so much hard work to garner his approval!"

"It's too bad you can't say things like that to him without risking detention," Remus sighed.

"The detention would be worth it," Sirius huffed.

Potter would always be a nasty little boy who gave no consideration to the rules.

Harry finally gave his powder to his potion and turned on his roots instead, his hand shaking so bad the cuts weren't nearly as precise as they should be. Still he refused to respond and give Snape the satisfaction.

"I'm glad you're taking Hermione's path at least," Lily sighed, "he'll get less satisfaction if you act like he's not getting to you."

"Much more self-satisfying to get him back later, when he's lesser expecting it," James mock agreed with his wife, though she wasn't going to argue with him.

Snape promised this warning, if he ever caught Harry breaking into his office one more time-

"He's never broken into your office period," Remus said like speaking to an idiotic child.

"Technically," Sirius added on with a faint smile, "and Snape can't prove otherwise."

"That was two years ago though," James cocked his head to the side, "or is he really blaming Harry for, well whatever that mess with Crouch was."

"He blames everything on me," Harry reminded.

"I'm sure he's tried to get you expelled for every instance that went on at school, and at some point Dumbledore just stopped opening the door for him," James said wistfully, thinking about slamming a door in his face as well, or more on his face.

Harry snapped at that, saying he'd never been in Snape's office.

Snape's black eyes glowed with hatred as he hissed back all of his missing supplies, the Boomslang skin and Gillyweed, all from his private cupboards.

"Wait, now I'm confused," Lily made a rewind motion. "Dobby took the Gillyweed, but what's this about the Boomslang skin? Again, that happened years ago, I'm blasted he's really connecting the events."

"Again," Remus pointed out, "he clearly blames Harry for everything that goes wrong in his life, and I'm not really surprised if he's been in waiting to throw this at him since he found out."

"But it is rather odd," James had his head cocked to the side, "he's talking like this happened when Crouch was in his office, but he can't have stolen either of those, it doesn't add up."

"With what?" Sirius demanded of him. "We never even found out why he was there in the first place."

"What are the odds Crouch happened to steal the exact ingredient Harry had need of, and something he also stole two years ago," Lily said back.

Sirius had no reply, none of them did. This was such an inane mystery no one even had a clue how to begin to puzzle it out.

Harry stared back with a blank face, refusing to acknowledge this. It was in fact Hermione and Dobby who Snape should really be looking to, but Harry wasn't going to be saying that. Instead he lied, stating he had no clue about anything.

Snape hissed back he knew Harry was out of bed that night his office had been ransacked.

"While he's technically not wrong about that," Remus rolled his eyes.

"He still has no proof it was Harry," Sirius finished for him. "There are three other champions that egg could have belonged to, but of course he's still convinced, without proof, it was Harry."

Lily wanted to scold him this time it was good enough evidence, the map and the egg together wouldn't leave an idiot stumped, but that wasn't Sirius' point and she knew it.

Snape had no clue why Moody had joined Potter's fan club,

"Oh, do we finally have proof that exists," James asked mildly. "What did Colin and Ginny name it anyways?"

"Potter Doesn't Really Stink," Sirius offered to Harry's trying to ignore them both, about as successfully as he'd been ignoring Snape.

but even he couldn't save Harry from Snape when he caught him.

"About as thoroughly as he has in the past," Remus stated with a winning smile, making them all give a hearty laugh in appreciation for that; because Harry hadn't ever technically been in trouble for any of this.

Harry mildly agreed he'd keep that in mind if ever he had a wish to go for Snape's office.

"You just know it's on his top ten list," Sirius nodded along.

"Right up there with going back into the Forest, going to another Death Day party, and going back to the Chamber," Remus agreed.

Snape's eyes flashed, his hand tucked inside his robes, and for an actual moment Harry was sure Snape was about to curse him.

"I'll skin him alive," Lily said dangerously, wishing now more than ever she could leave these walls for the simple use of acting on that.

Instead he pulled out a clear bottle that looked like it held water. Snape asked if Harry knew what this was.

This time, completely honestly, Harry said no.

"Not that it's ever stopped you before," James said.

Snape explained it was Veritaserum, a Truth Potion so powerful just three drops and Harry would spill every secret he'd ever had.

"And illegal to use on the unwitting," Lily hissed.

Harry ruffled his brows at her, casting his mind back to a not at all pleasant conversation where he'd try to offer ideas to prove Sirius' innocence. This potion had come up, and he asked, "If you can't use it on people on trial because they're expecting it, and you can't use it on someone who isn't expecting it, what's it used for?"

"Nothing," Lily deflated a bit at talking to her son, though venom was still clear in her tone even not directed at him. "It's basically illegal to even own any amount unless you have specific license to study under a few fields. Snape would be allowed to have some I suppose, being a potion's teacher and all, but that doesn't give him the right to use it on anyone!" She finished, trying to force herself not to shout there at the end.

"Dumbledore wouldn't let him use it," Remus offered without any real hope.

"Dumbledore should be stopping a lot of things that keep happening," Sirius snapped back bitterly.

Snape conceded there were many restrictions placed on the use of this potion, but one day Snape's hand may just slip over Potter's evening drink.

"And ironically," Lily put her hands up in exasperation, "Snape still wouldn't get his end results."

"Though a few worse things would come out than breaking into a teacher's office," James muttered, keeping a careful eye on his best friend.

Harry turned away with false indifference, ignoring how uncomfortable that potion made him feel. Snape may not get the confession he'd be wanting, but Harry knew how much trouble not only his friends would be in, but also far worse things could happen. Like his admission to being in contact with Sirius, and his crush on Cho.

Sirius couldn't help it, he broke all tension in the room by snorting with laughter, and not stopping there by doubling over and still holding his sides with amusement.

Harry was bright scarlet already, trying in vain to get James to keep going who was paying him no attention, clearly just as amused as Padfoot that Harry's embarrassment over that crush ranked right up there with the fear of his Godfather getting caught. Good to know where Harry's priorities were at least.

It took Sirius quite some time to settle back down, rubbing happily at his chest and ignoring the exasperated looks of the others at such an overreaction. "Thanks pup, I needed that."

"You are not welcome," Harry grumbled back.

He put his roots into his potion and began stirring, his mind on Moody's idea to start drinking out of his own hip flask for a while.

"While I wouldn't blame you if you did," Remus shook his head with amusement, "I more recommend just asking the house-elves to special make you meals. Gives you a much less paranoid vibe."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry did manage a smile for him.

A knock on the door stopped either from saying anything else as Snape called for entrance in a more normal voice.

"So, dark and creepy," James nodded along.

Karkaroff came in.

"Well, well," Sirius raised a brow. "Evil plotting in front of the kiddies now? Poor form on their part."

"I will strangle you," Lily promised, still unable to grasp how he could make light of Death Eaters around Harry.

"What?" Sirius defend himself at once. "They're not actually going to do anything to Harry in that classroom, but Harry might pick up on something else they could be up to."

Remus wanted to remind him they most likely had already done something to Harry, they were their number one suspects on who'd entered Harry into this tournament, but he wasn't going to argue with Sirius now and begged Lily not to bother while James ignored them all.

Everyone watched as he came up to Snape's desk, clearly trying to be as quiet as possible as he whispered they needed to talk.

"Then he should have done this after the fact," James rolled his eyes, "in Snape's oh so important office."

"Be happy intelligence is failing them," Sirius waved him off.

Harry still pretended he wasn't listening as he kept at his ingredients, but still clearly heard Snape's hissing response to deal with this after class.

Karkaroff refused, saying he was tired of Snape slipping away and avoiding him.

"I would too," Remus quipped, but was watching the book curiously now, all of them wondering what they could be squabbling about.

Snape repeated they would talk after the lesson.

While Harry raised his measuring cup full of armadillo bile up to the light to check the correct measurement,

"Subtleness you were excelling at I'm sure," Remus smirked.

"You ever wonder how they get some of these ingredients?" Sirius muttered to Harry.

"Detention from Snape I'm sure," Harry said back, thinking it would be just that kind of punishment for Snape to make armadillos appear just to have them vomiting their bile for the students to collect.

Harry peaked at the pair. Karkaroff looked worried, Snape angry.

Karkaroff stayed hovering over Snape's desk for the rest of class, and determined to know what they were talking about, Harry knocked over the rest of his armadillo bile with a minute to go before class let out and quickly bent down to mop it up while the rest of the class fled the room.

"That was brilliant," James praised.

"Absolute credit for sneakiness with an excuse," Sirius agreed.

Snape demanded what Karkaroff thought was so urgent? Karkaroff declared this!

Harry peeked around his cauldron to see Karkaroff had pulled up his left sleeve to show Snape something Harry couldn't see.

Remus cocked his head to the side with a calculating look in place. "Wasn't that the same arm Snape grabbed when Moody made a crack at him about marks?"

"You think him and Karkaroff got matching tattoos?" Sirius asked in disbelief.

"I think it's strange something's clearly bothering both of these Death Eater's," Lily agreed mildly even if she did think the arm thing was a slim attachment.

Of course, they all knew something was stirring, Voldemort was trying to make a return and even if Harry hadn't been having any more dreams about it, and thank Merlin for that and it not happening any time soon, it was still the most unsettling thing to happen thus far. Could these two be talking about that? It really was hard to come up with anything else this could be about, but what would something on their arms be about?

Karkaroff insisted it was clearer than ever, it hadn't been like this since-

Snape snapped at him to put that away, turning a nastier face on Harry and demanding to know what he was still doing in here?

Harry showed his sodden rag he was cleaning with,

"I'm so sure he appreciates your cleanliness," James scowled, his mind still flagging in frustration he couldn't put this together. This could be something really important, and they were all clearly missing something.

but Snape snapped at him to get lost. Harry quickly vacated the room to tell Ron and Hermione what he'd seen.

"Which was what exactly?" Lily groaned in frustration.

Next day they left for Hogsmeade, the weather finally slowing enough that it was actually a beautiful day.

This wasn't making anyone's mood feel any better. Despite the Snape distraction, no one could get over how worrisome it felt to have Sirius back in the picture like this. Danger kept screaming at every corner of their mind, and yet at the same time none of them would selfishly admit it would be good just to hear about him again not on the run or as a convict. Just Padfoot trying to spend some time with Harry for a day.

The food Sirius had asked for was tucked in Harry's bag, a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a jug of pumpkin juice.

Sirius still fidgeted uneasily a bit at such an odd request from himself, he wasn't liking where this was headed right off the bat.

First they headed for a shop to get Dobby those promised socks, enjoying themselves by picking out the most outlandish ones they could find, including ones that screamed at you if you didn't wash them regularly enough.

"Not a bad start," James nodded along, "but you've got about three hundred more pairs to go to get to that every day of the year promise."

"I decided I'd build up to it," Harry grinned, "I need to get him future gifts after all, no sense in doing it all at once." He finished with an almost vacant look at the end, his innards squirming a warning he'd better get Dobby those socks while he had a chance.

"That's cheating," Sirius wagged his finger at the half finished return to keep Harry's attention, but agreed with a smile, "I'm so proud."

As the time came, they made their way to the stile. Harry had never been this far into Hogsmeade before,

All three boys made choking noises of disbelief at that declaration, it still blew their mind Harry didn't know the grounds of that place like they did.

and the place looked far more deserted with a long winding road and being right at the base of a mountain.

A small gate closed off the borders of the village, and leaning on said gate with large paws and a shaggy coat was a familiar dog.

Harry happily greeted Sirius.

Lily was shaking her head fondly, like she'd still been futilely hoping this whole time Sirius wouldn't be stupid enough to come, and even more pleased he had.

Harry couldn't help but compare that lean, wild looking animal to the happy pooch he'd seen in this living room days ago, trying to comfort him in his fear of what would happen to Sirius. The contrast between the same dog was as vivid as the cocky, self-assured Godfather sitting at his side, ready to joke his way to the end, and the gaunt faced criminal Harry only had memory of seeing smile once.

The black dog sniffed Harry's bag eagerly, wagged his tail once, then turned and began to trot away from them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain.

"Wait a minute," Remus said slowly, "you're not really..." he trailed off in disbelief as he kept watching Sirius.

"Don't know how regularly," Sirius shrugged, "but I'm even more pleased if so. It'll be much more fun to talk to Harry rather than just following him around."

"I don't understand," Lily was frowning, looking from Sirius to his two friends suspiciously.

"That mountain's got all sorts of caves and hiding spots," James told her and Harry. "We explored them all the time, even kept a stash of stuff up there when we didn't want to get caught with it. When we found Sirius wasn't staying in the Shack, I honestly thought this was where he was spending his time last year."

Lily gnawed on her lip a bit, but decided this was actually fairly out of the way of the school, and if the Marauders said they'd explored this place than that meant they knew it better than the surrounding villagers. Plus, if Dumbledore even knew Sirius was staying there, and warned people to stay away from the area, well this was honestly looking like almost a good idea. Then she realized what she was thinking, and chose not to say anything aloud, still not wanting to give that idiot the impression she approved of him being in the country at all.

The three followed him up the steep path, having to climb over boulders and struggling to keep up with the more assured four legged one, as they sweated under the sun and the straps of Harry's bag cut into his shoulders.

"If I'd known there'd be a hike, I'd have left the jug behind," Harry winced and rubbed at his shoulders in remembrance.

"I honestly forget what it's like to try on two legs," Sirius answered honestly, and with a bit of pity. "We didn't really go all through these places until we changed."

Finally the dog vanished into a crevice, and the three wiggled inside to see a spacious cave with Buckbeak tied to a corner.

"So you did actually keep him," Remus chuckled. "I never again want to hear you mock me for bringing home strays."

"Not happening Moony," Sirius shot back at once. "This beast saved my life, the least I can do is keep him around. You dragging in all manner of destruction into our flat with your creature of the month have yet to do the same."

Remus opened his mouth, to argue the point or give another sarcastic response James didn't want to listen to for once, he was too anxious to hear how Sirius was doing in person. That food comment was still lingering badly at the edge of his mind.

All three bowed to the hippogriff, who obliged back, and while Hermione rushed forward to pat him in greeting, Harry turned eyes on his godfather. Sirius was wearing the same ragged garb he'd had on the night he escaped Azkaban,

They all winced, that wasn't a great start, though no real surprise as it probably would have been a chore at best to steal anything better. Most likely if he wasn't on Buckbeak he was Padfoot, so it wasn't even the largest of deals in the grand scheme, but even something as little as this struck deep.

his hair was a long tangle mess again, and he looked extremely thin.

Lily made a noise she knew she wouldn't deny even if she'd been called out on. All her blustering and scolding aside, she was as distraught as the boys at the idea of what Sirius had really been living through.

James and Remus looked like they'd swallowed a lemon at the idea, not even being subtle as they kept a steady eye on their Sirius, here and now looking grumpy but still his usual self. He didn't even seem to realize he kept running his hand through his hair, as if to keep himself in check this wasn't some nasty new form of a mirror being put on him.

He was sitting on the ground, spitting a few newspapers out of his mouth he'd been carrying this whole time, and turned to Harry asking about the chicken he smelled.

'Missed you to Sirius,' Harry thought to himself, not looking to meet anyone's eyes. He still felt responsible for Sirius being in these conditions, and the fact that his Godfathers first request had been for food rather than an actual greeting spoke every level of how horrible it had been.

Harry handed over the bag, and Sirius began digging in at once, while thanking for the food, admitting he'd actually been living on rats.

James hardly got that out before revulsion hit and his throat retched.

"There's some kind of irony in that I'm sure," Sirius said with pure viciousness in his voice as he took in all the disgusted faces around him.

"Sirius-" Remus began weakly, but Sirius cut him off snappishly.

"What? You lot going to sit around and tell me how sorry you are for me? Like that's going to help? Let it go will you, it's my decision."

While true, this didn't make what they were hearing any better, so still fighting down the impulse to run to the kitchen and get Sirius a snack while he had to listen to this, James forced himself to keep going.

He admitted he couldn't be stealing too much food from Hogsmeade, he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

Lily kept a watchful eye on him, waiting for him to start up his bragging that of course he was smart enough to think ahead like this, clearly waiting for someone to mock him to the contrary, but when no one did he instead intensified his glare at all of them so that he actually looked pretty scary. It was clear he was growing sick of their trying to baby him, but none of them were going to be able to shake it off any time soon.

He gave Harry a grin, who only reluctantly returned it.

Harry demanded why Sirius was even here, and Sirius said back he was doing his job as godfather, while gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way.

"Least some things don't change," James shook his head fondly, Sirius had done that long before he'd been an animagus, though he'd admitted he'd donned the habit more in protest of his mother's precious table manners than anything.

Sirius looked pleased enough at the comment, at least his best friend wasn't all doom and gloom.

Sirius told Harry not to worry about it, everyone around here found him a lovable stray. He kept grinning, but when the anxiety didn't leave Harry's face, he kept going seriously

Sirius released a bark of triumphant laughter, clearly never growing tired of when Harry did this the most, before turning to his pup and stating, "no need for the clarification, I say everything Seriously."

"You're right Prongs," Remus groaned, "but sometimes I wish that joke would change."

"Not happening," Sirius stated proudly.

that Harry's last letter had left him uneasy. The papers weren't helping anything, clearly something was getting fishy around here.

He nodded at the yellowing newspapers, which Ron went to investigate.

Harry kept watching Sirius, asking what would happen if someone spotted him.

Sirius waved that off, saying the three of them and Dumbledore were the only ones who knew he was here and that he was an Animagus, still tearing off large pieces of chicken between every word.

Ron got Harry's attention by showing him the headlines, one of which covered the mystery of Crouch's disease,

"One of the symptoms being night time wanderings," Sirius rolled his eyes, still finding this much more fun to think about than himself.

and the other still over the missing Ministry Employee, and that the Minister himself was now looking into it.

"I'm honestly impressed," Lily arched a brow. "Why's she getting so much attention? People have gone missing before."

"Most likely, after ah, this time," Remus wasn't quite sure how to phrase that and since they got the gist he quickly moved past, "I'm sure if it did happen, at least someone could offer up some sort of explanation. As far as we know, she's gone without a single trace. That is media worthy."

"I'd almost rather not have the answer to this one," Sirius shivered for the poor thing.

Harry read the Crouch one first, looking up when he was done about how they made it seem like he was dying.

Ron told Sirius about how Percy was Crouch's underlying, and he just wrote it all off as being overworked.

Harry disagreed, saying how bad he'd looked that night of the Goblet.

Hermione just said it was his own comeuppance for how he'd treated Winky.

"I'm thinking this might be a bit more than that," James shook his head fondly

"Hermione'll just take any excuse to change the subject to house-elves," Sirius snorted.

Saying how she was sure he was regretting his harsh actions now.

Ron informed Sirius about Hermione's house-elf obsession, but rather than exasperated like Ron, Sirius looked intrigued as he asked about Crouch sacking his elf.

"That would be news to me," Sirius agreed, he still found the instance odd, and he'd already heard about it.

Harry recounted the whole Dark Mark event for him.

Sirius pulled yet more chicken out as he made sure he got the whole thing cleared up, clearly being the most interested in Crouch not even appearing at the event of the Cup.

Harry agreed he'd stated he was too busy to come at the time.

Sirius got to his feet as he sucked on the marrow, muttering to himself for a moment before asking Harry if he'd checked his pockets for his wand before he'd left the Top Box?

"Why would you ask?" Remus asked slowly.

"Not really sure," Sirius was frowning at nothing as he tried to guess at his own train of thought...no matter how odd that was.

Harry thought back and admitted he hadn't checked until he'd needed it later, then asking of Sirius if he really thought the caster of the Mark had been in the Top Box?

"Even Sirius wouldn't make such a suicidal leap," Lily dissed the idea.

"If the Malfoy's hadn't been confirmed in with the other Death Eaters, I might argue the point," Remus said fairly.

"But there's no one else up there who could have done it," James agreed.

"Unless Winky stole it for someone," Sirius offered, his brow still ruffled as he tried to put it together.

James scoffed at the idea, saying, "Unless Crouch told her to, I don't buy that. She was clearly all loyal to him, that sounds like a Dobby stunt."

Sirius ran out of ideas, it really didn't make much sense, but something had happened in between it being in Harry's possession and it casting the Mark, they just had not a single clue of what. Harry wasn't helping anyone, arms crossed in a huffy manner as he was well aware the answer was somewhere in Sirius' line of thinking.

Sirius agreed there was a good chance, and Hermione at once snapped it hadn't been Winky!

Sirius agreed she hadn't been the only one up there, asking for a list of everyone.

When Harry recounted the Malfoy's name, Ron suddenly got the idea that it could have been Lucius all along.

Sirius didn't seem to think so, as he asked for anyone else present.

"Well you clearly don't think much of the idea," Remus pointed out.

"Which is a bit off from you," Lily shook her head.

"If Harry explained the whole thing, including Draco telling of his parents being in the Death Eater crowd," Sirius shrugged them off.

"They still seem the most likely," James sighed, then his eyes brightened with understanding, but not pleasure as he offered, "what if it was a handoff. Who wants to put money Karkaroff could have been at that game, supporting his number one student."

They all swallowed that for a moment, but Harry shook his head first, saying very slowly so as not to agitate himself, "I don't think, I mean, I like to think I'd have recognized the voice, and I still haven't heard it since that night."

It was thin, someone shouting a curse could still manage to sound different enough from just casual speaking, but if Harry was disagreeing with an idea, it was best not to argue the point.

When Harry finished, Hermione also pointed out Bagman in the end.

Sirius kept up his pacing and stated all he knew of him was that he was an old Beater.

The four of them felt themselves sink just that little bit lower, again. First the dragons, now this, had Azkaban taken everything away from Sirius? Something of his old Quidditch love and idol of a player should have sparked a life in him at the mention of that name, not just that.

Sirius asked if they'd had any more contact with him, and Harry admitted Bagman had been trying to help Harry out with the Tournament, said he'd taken a liking to Harry.

Hermione pointed out they'd seen him just before the Mark was cast and he disapparated, but Ron said it was ludicrous to think Bagman had done this.

"I can't really buy that," Lily shook her head. "He's been a bit of an idiot, one too many bludgers honestly, but I don't think he's Death Eater material."

Something buzzed in the back of Harry's skull, and for some odd reason his mind flickered to Skeeter, and something she'd said about Bagman...

Hermione stubbornly said back she thought Bagman was still more likely than Winky.

"That I'll give her," James snorted.

Ron looking imploringly at Sirius as he repeated Hermione's obsession with elves.

Sirius though waved Ron silent.

"I'm impressed he listened," Remus couldn't help a little smirk at Sirius. "Looks like you've gotten marginally more menacing to stop someone."

"Wish it would work on you," Sirius grumbled at him.

Sirius instead turned back to Harry and asked what Crouch had done after his elf had been discovered under it.

Harry told how he'd gone through the bushes looking for someone else, and found no one.

Harry still felt like someone had snapped a rubber band on his nose, something in there was a lie, but all he got for it was rubbing in agitation at his temple and ignoring the moment.

Sirius agreed that was in line, Crouch would want to pin this on anyone else but his elf.

Hermione instantly agreed, saying he'd been wrong to sack his elf just for running from that stampeding crowd.

Ron snapped at her to give those elves a rest!

"I can see Ron's point," James said around twitching lips, "I'm sure he's heard this a million times by now, and Sirius has much more important things to be asking than house-elves."

Sirius seemed to be on Hermione's side though, telling Ron that she had a better idea of how Crouch was than Ron. If you wanted to know what a man was like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.

Lily couldn't stop a violent, and rather vindictive, snort as she looked disbelievingly at him for that one. "You did not just say that with a straight face? After the way you've gone on about elves, I thought you'd be cheering Ron on."

Sirius had a little sneer in place for her benefit as he corrected, "I hate my elf, with good reason. That doesn't mean I'm not going to think less of someone doing the same to theirs if it hasn't done anything wrong. That's sound advice woman, you should be thanking me for bestowing that on your son."

Lily raked her hand through her hair instead of slapping Sirius for the pompous attitude, she found him being a hypocrite more in that moment than wise like he clearly thought himself, but truth be told he wasn't wrong either. Sirius had every right to hate his house-elf in particular at least, but from what she'd gathered he'd clearly treated the ones at Hogwarts with at least as much respect as the rest of the staff, if not more for the free food, which was saying something.

He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard.

Sirius waited impatiently for a sarcastic comment from anybody asking how hard that was, a witty retort already in place, and was all the more frustrated when it didn't come. Couldn't these guys chill for just one second? They had no problems taking the mickey out of him in here, but clearly none of them were going to be mocking his future self...which still hurt his brain to think about so he let it go.

He was still stuck on the idea of Crouch, saying all of these absences of his from events he'd had such a huge hand in putting together wasn't like him at all. If he'd ever missed a day of work because he was sick, Sirius would eat Buckbeak.

"Best way you could have put that, past the lovely sentiment," Lily crinkled her nose at him.

Harry was surprised that Sirius seemed to know Crouch personally.

Sirius' face darkened so much, that between the menacing scowl and the dark lighting, he looked truly like the murderer Harry had once believed him to be.

Five faces lost every last drop of color at that sentiment, one question on all of their lips, what had Crouch done to Sirius?

He whispered for their benefit that he only knew Crouch as the man who'd put him in Azkaban without a trial.

Sirius' mouth flopped open in shock, mingled disbelief and hatred suddenly burning away any trace of his joking bravado nature. It was now all too clear to Harry that was indeed an expression of one who could actually go and kill someone, and Sirius had just been given a motive.

"He what?" Lily hissed, the fire blazing in her green eyes matched only by her hair. "They couldn't really, there's no way they-"

"I'm going to kill him," James vowed on the spot. He didn't remember getting to his feet, but he was suddenly pacing all around the room, his wand tapping furiously on his hip and clearly hoping to use it on the first available target. He spat in the fireplace as he passed it but that relieved nothing, he could not get this out of his head!

Remus' lower lip was trembling, it was unclear whether he was fixing to cry or scream. Mostly he just looked diminished. He couldn't help his mind scattering to the first person that he would have called to for help with this, but Dumbledore had actually allowed this to happen! He was Supreme Mugwump, Crouch may have held off the trial but he would have had to pass it by Dumbledore to be skipped, which had never been passed in their history! Even someone brought in as a confirmed and known Death Eater was granted a trial, but Sirius hadn't even been given that! What the bloody hell was the matter with this! It only marginally explained their earlier plights and complaints that Sirius shouldn't have been sent there at all, one moment in front of an actual person should have proven Sirius' innocence, now they all realized he' never even been allowed that chance!

While Harry knew he was just as angry as the rest of them, he tried to keep some perspective. While outraged on behalf of Sirius for this slight, Harry just knew there was something important about this conversation, something Sirius was going to tell him that would make all the difference to this year. He really didn't want to be the one to call attention to himself, any of them were likely to spring into deadly action at a moment's notice now, but it spoke volumes of Harry's time here when he cleared his throat and hardly winced at all eyes falling on him. "I am begging you guys to remember this hasn't technically happened yet," he gestured vaguely to his still fuming godfather. "Crouch'll never get the chance to do this to him," he promised with much more conviction than he felt.

No one looked appeased enough to move past this, James was still pacing manically around the room and looked as likely to kiss Snape as pretend this wasn't going to weigh on him whether it had technically happened yet or not. Sirius should never have been in Azkaban to begin with, that thought had never once left his mind since he'd heard about this, and yet somehow the level of bad got worse at this news. He didn't know how to go back to simply reading a book after this kind of news, he was entirely certain he couldn't get the words out anyways through his red vision.

The book had been left in James's vacant seat, and Harry uneasily reached for it like it was the Monster Book of Monsters, ready to bite his hand the moment he touched the cover. No one made to stop him, though a few throats vibrated a warning growl that promised screaming would resume at a moment's notice. Harry's fingers fumbled across several pages, possibly earning a few paper cuts as he found his place, but that Gryffindor bravery, or thickness he was sure Ron would say, shone through as he forced himself to go on in this atmosphere.

The three of them gasped in surprise, while Harry demanded to know if he was kidding, but Sirius simply said he wasn't while taking another bite of food.

Harry paused hopefully, though in vain. He'd been hoping at least Sirius, who'd laughed off plenty of terrible things before, would at least make a crack he could discuss anything over food, but clearly it was not to be forthcoming.

Crouch had been head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time.

"He won't be holding that position long when I get a hold of him," Lily snarled. She'd put up with his horrid ways for long enough because he'd been using them against Death Eaters, proven Death Eaters! This was, unprecedented!

He'd even been tipped for the next Minister of Magic. Crouch was a powerful wizard,

"Bet you nearly bit your tongue off getting that out," Remus sighed, his voice still coming out so quiet no one was really sure what he'd said and didn't ask for a repeat.

and power hungry. He caught the look on Harry's face and quickly corrected he was no Voldemort supporter, Crouch was the opposite. Then again, a lot of people against the Dark, but he trailed himself off saying they were too young to understand.

"Hurtful," Harry yelped at once.

Sirius gave him an even look, but finally that face was starting to wobble. It was clear he could have held it for hours yet if left to stew, but he'd never want Harry to really see him like this, so even if it didn't really work he tried to force something resembling his more normal self as he said, "well, hopefully I get over the delusion that you're fourteen. Obviously you're much older and I just need my eyes checked."

While it was clear he was going for a joke and apology all at the same time, Harry still grumbled mutinously for a bit, wondering if Sirius would reach the same conclusion in his own time.

Ron said in protest that's what his dad had told him, why wouldn't Sirius give them a try?

A grin flashed across Sirius' thin face.

"That's why you need to keep Ron around, it's good to know he can still get to me." Sirius sighed, losing the fight to keep himself tensed for a fight and instead slumping back in his seat, now just looking defeated. It was almost as bad as his anger, like he'd accepted this was his fate to come and he may as well enjoy himself in the meantime.

Everyone else refused to believe that, whatever self-punishment Sirius clearly still felt towards himself had not gone away no matter the farce he put up, but around a dry throat all James could do was what he'd always fall back on. Pick on his best friend. "Oh, now you agree with me, after the fact. Typical of you."

Sirius listlessly stuck his tongue out at him, the gesture more pouting than admitting a point like normal.

He agreed he'd give them a try, pacing back and forth a few more times before beginning.

Remus couldn't stop just the smallest of smiles gracing his features. James and Sirius were so alike sometimes, about things they didn't even realize. Only one instance being that they both tended to pace when they were upset or thinking hard, like the motion helped generate better ideas for them.

He began by recounting how it had felt to the rest of the world for Voldemort to be all powerful, no one to trust and no one to turn to. People did terrible things and no one could stop them.

"Don't have to think too hard to imagine that," Sirius muttered at Harry's side, going slightly cross eyed at himself saying this in past tense. It probably still felt like days ago to an after Azkaban Sirius, where time didn't mean much in that prison except endless torture.

You were scared for yourself, your family, everyone you cared about. Every time you turned around there was more news of death, disappearances, and even torture. The Ministry was not keeping a handle on anything, and Muggles were dying left and right.

There was nothing but panic in everyone.

"You do a lovely painting, I thought James was the artist," Remus quipped at Sirius loudly enough to be heard this time.

Sirius gave him a pleased enough smile, he'd heard that hint of longing in Remus' voice for this to be a past rather than present. James didn't find it nearly as funny, giving him a light swat on his next pass through, but at least he'd tucked his wand away.

Times like that brought out the best in some, and the worst in others.

"Clearly some people shouldn't be in this at all," Lily said flatly.

Crouch had been a rising star from the beginning, a voice for the Ministry that they weren't going to let this stand. He dealt out the harshest punishments on anyone slightly associated with Voldemort, granted powers to Aurors for people to be killed rather than captured. Sirius hadn't been the only one to get sent away without a trial.

Harry couldn't get that out without stuttering a bit, knowing it was foolish to fear for his life from them but it still wasn't passing easily through their ears without inciting more violent outbursts; made all the worse at the realization Sirius wasn't the only one treated like this. Yet more innocent people had likely died in this place because of Crouch!

Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects.

Lily blanched in horror. Talk of that was being passed along now, clearly it had gone through. She had been talking to her boys about this just last week, it was the root of all their snide comments about Crouch following whatever rules he saw fit.

Crouch became as ruthless as those he was fighting. Most seemed to agree with his methods and were begging him to take the top spot. When Voldemort vanished, it seemed obvious Crouch would get just that.

Remus opened his mouth to ask how on earth Sirius would know a thing like that, he'd been in prison by the time that came about, but not only did no one here know the answer, it would only be a sharp reminder in an already ugly room.

Then it all changed when Crouch's own son was brought in with a group of Death Eaters.

Harry got a zing tracing from the peak of his scar, marking all the way down to his toes. That was it, that was the bit of crucial information he was so sure he learned from Sirius. What on earth significant could that hold?

"Crouch has a son?" James asked in surprise, his steps finally faltering as his murderous thoughts were derailed and he was successfully pulled fully back into the story.

"I've never heard that," Lily said in shock. "I mean, sure I don't know the family members of everyone in my department, but I usually at least know who does and doesn't have kids. He's never mentioned it."

"Didn't you hear the rest of that?" Remus asked with disgust. "I can understand why if he's been hanging around Death Eaters, I wouldn't go parading that around in that sort of job."

Maybe before they'd have felt bad for Crouch, none of them could imagine what it would feel like for Harry to turn to Voldemort's side, but now that they knew what Crouch would indubitably do, all they felt was more hatred for the guy. He was clearly making examples out of others to show distance from his child, most likely why he'd never even mentioned him. That fallout had landed on Sirius for one.

Hermione was shocked to hear Crouch has a son?

Sirius agreed, while throwing himself back into the dirt. He tossed all his leftover bones to Buckbeak, while he continued saying it had come as a nasty shock for Crouch's own family to be pushed into the spotlight like that. It was probably his own fault, he should have gone home early for once and spent time with his own kid.

He then found the loaf of bread and began wolfing that down.

"I don't think I eat like Moony?" Sirius told Harry innocently, now receiving a slap from James as he passed him next. Sirius didn't regret it, as the lame joke finally ceased his best friend's incessant tread and he slammed back down on Harry's other side mutinously.

"Oh give that back," he grumbled, offering his hand out while Harry watched him uneasily. "I might need it to crack his head open next."

Harry gave it back, a little too willingly in Sirius' heads opinion, and James forced himself to continue reading. He still wasn't happy about it, but wearing out the carpet wasn't helping him, at least this way he could read past Sirius' insistent jokes rather than letting Harry laugh at them like he was prone to do.

Harry asked if his son really was a Death Eater?

For some reason Harry wanted to laugh at the question from himself, something in him clamoring to say that was obvious, of course he was, but the feeling subsided instantly and Harry was instead left listening to the blistering tones of James forcing himself to read about Crouch's personal life rather than him being burned alive.

Sirius said he had no clue if he'd really been, while stuffing himself with bread.

"You're going to make yourself sick," Lily couldn't help but scold maternally. "You've gone from hardly eating a thing to a lot of greasy and heavy foods. What good's that going to do you?"

"Yes mum," Sirius rolled his eyes at her, trying to hide his flashing smile.

He was in Azkaban when the guy was brought in,

James could not ever get that out without some interesting colorful tones threatening violence and death for that having to be a thing.

this was all stuff he'd found out after he'd escaped.

Remus still wanted to ask where that could have been from, even vaguely hoping it could have been from himself though unlikely as he didn't particularly keep up with politics, but then again Remus like to think he'd have at least kept an eye on Crouch; the man who did this to Sirius. Was that giving himself too much credit, since he clearly hadn't cared a lick for Sirius during this time? Great, now he was depressing himself as much as he was over Sirius.

The boy was certainly caught in the company Sirius would bet his life were Death Eaters, but it could have been wrong place, wrong time like the elf.

"Surprised you used a house-elf over yourself in that instance," Lily whispered softly.

Sirius watched her steadily for a moment, his expression hard to read as he told, "I got caught because I didn't run Lily, that's hardly wrong time and place."

His face spasmed, showing the deep regret and hate he had for himself, letting himself get caught, this stupid situation still falling on him though that rat had set everything in motion. He controlled himself quick enough, that cocky mask back in place as he added on to egg her on, "thought that would have given me some brownie points from you? I just compared myself to a lowly house-elf."

She shook her head fondly at him, she wasn't going to rise to Sirius' bait.

Hermione asked how hard Crouch had tried to get his son off?

Sirius let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"Always a warning of trouble," Remus muttered.

Sirius grinned and gave Harry a wink, he'd never thought to describe his type of laugh like that, but he loved Harry putting it like that for him.

Telling her he'd thought she realized better.

"I would have thought he'd think more of his child than his elf," Lily squeaked. She hadn't gained back any of her normal color tone, the fresh news of Sirius' incarceration still heavy on everyone, but still she somehow managed to look all the worse at this news.

"I'm not even going to pretend to be surprised," James muttered lowly, he now knew he'd never put anything past Crouch after what he'd just had further evidence of.

Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial,

"Oh well hallelujah he gives someone one!" Remus snapped instantly, his spine threatening to crack in half he jerked so hard at that statement.

and the whole show had been so everyone could see how much he hated the boy before he was given to the dementors.

Sirius read the shock on Harry's face and nodded along, not looking remotely amused as he told how they'd brought him right past his own bars.

James made a sound like a kicked puppy, the image swimming before his eyes of Sirius' wasted face having to look through bars and watch all of this, hearing the screams of this guy shouting all this. He shook himself so hard to shake that off he nearly tossed his glasses across the room and forced himself to keep going, anything to focus on rather than that.

He'd couldn't have been more than nineteen, screaming for his mother to help him, but he'd gone quiet by nightfall, most of them did. Except the ones who continued even in their sleep.

Sirius couldn't pretend anymore. He'd been trying to force this off since he'd found out what Crouch had done to him, but everything in him was crumbling at the dead way James was reading that. He started shaking so violently the couch trembled with him, his fingers digging into the cushion to anchor him to this life right here, and they'd have to wrench it away from his limp fingers before he wound up like that.

Harry didn't even think about it this time as he wormed up to Sirius, pulling him into a hug for protection, but words failed him. He still held a deep sense of regret whenever he thought too hard about comforting Sirius, something in Harry telling him his godfather was doomed which wasn't a pleasant thing at all to be considering in light of this.

Lily reacted much better, scrambling to her feet and perching on the arm of the sofa, running her nails gently through his hair and promising, "It's alright Padfoot, that's not happening."

The oddity of Lily calling him that managed to win out, his movements going from violent shaking, to jerking, and finally stilling. He remained hunched in on himself, hardly speaking loud enough, "I don't want to end up like that."

"You won't," Remus croaked, even that had been hard to force out past his tight chest, but it was worth it when Sirius glanced up at him. His dark gray eyes were at war, he wanted to believe him but the image had trapped him better than any Devil's Snare.

Remus sighed, he knew he would regret what he was fixing to do, but at this point he'd suffer for it just to take that look off of his friends face. He gave James a steady look as he sated, "I'm serious."

James reacted almost instantly, some things really never died as he remarked, "Nope, he is," giving Sirius a winning smile.

Sirius blinked spastically at the pair of them before tackling both of them with a hug, then laughing his arse of as he declared, "you haven't done that since first year!" It was mostly for show, but Sirius would rather pet a dragon than let his friends get away with doing this.

"That joke wore off after Christmas, you were the only one who wouldn't let it go after the fact," Remus reminded.

Still not completely able to hide swimming eyes, Sirius forced himself back to his seat and caught Lily before she could sneak away. "Thanks sis," without a hint of mocking.

She met his eyes steadily, while flicking his nose like scolding a dog and saying, "you're welcome love."

Sirius rubbed absently at his nose, but knew he'd take that over the wallop he knew she owed him.

James watched Sirius steadily for a few moments longer, but he considered it mission accomplished when his best friend turned back to him expectantly, waving his hand theatrically for James to continue. James knew a farce when he saw one, Sirius was still on the verge of a real panic attack again at his life heading towards that prison, but James would be remiss if he just sat here and let Sirius wallow in that instead of finding something else to do.

For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius' eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.

No one in here needed to picture that, they'd just gotten the live version, and hoped to never see it again. That fact that he was all alone in there, with no one to really turn that light back on, caused the room to feel as if it had been iced over already with a dementors presence.

Harry asked if he was still in Azkaban, and Sirius corrected he was dead. Died less than a year after he'd been brought in.

At their surprise, Sirius bitterly agreed most who went mad in there, stopped eating soon enough.

Sirius suddenly wasn't Sirius anymore, but instead had poofed into Padfoot for no clear reason other than to bark in Harry's ear, lunge across his lap and lick obstinately at James' ear, and then start running around the room, only pausing to occasionally bite at his tail. The others weren't sure whether to laugh or call for a Mediwizard, whether it would have worked or not, as they wondered if he'd really just snapped, but then he froze, fur bristling at James. James more than anyone was used to figuring out silent language, and the intent was clear, 'get on with it.'

He couldn't believe himself when he actually managed a weak chuckle, but he supposed the logic was sound. Sirius had survived that place as Padfoot for twelve years, he clearly felt he was only going to get through the rest of this mess in the same state.

Most lost the will to live, and you could always tell when a death was coming, it was when the dementors got the most excited.

Remus had never wished to be Moony in his life, but he suddenly envied Sirius. He still understood what they were saying, as he kept his tail high in the air and sniffed at Remus' boots most likely out of sheer something else to do with himself, but it was in a more simplistic nature filtered through those ears. He could still process everything being said and yet not have to face a reaction, something they all were wishing for by this time.

Crouch's boy had looked sick enough being brought in. His father's position being what it was, Crouch and his wife had been allowed a visit to the deathbed. That was the last time Crouch saw his son, half carrying his dead wife past Sirius' own cell.

If Harry hadn't been so distracted watching Padfoot suddenly leap onto his lap, which he was far too big for, Harry knew he would have considered much more carefully the significance of that.

James reached over absently and gave Sirius a mock pat on the head, a silent promise this was all almost over.

Mrs. Crouch had died not long after, grief most likely. Crouch had never come again for his son's body, and the dementors had buried it just outside the prison, Sirius had watched them do it.

James was entirely sure that was bile slicking over his tongue, his hand suddenly trembling in the fur. The distraction of the wet tongue lapping at his fingers, and then Sirius leaping cleanly over the table to start chasing his tail again the only thing that saved another vomiting session appearing. James was sorely tempted by this point to pass the book to Harry and join him as Prongs, on his life he'd never forced himself to read anything as painful as Sirius recounting his time in Azkaban.

Harry had no want to ask about Azkaban when it had been such a horrid topic for Sirius, but the question had lingered in the back of his mind so he figured he could ask now, which seemed fairer than later when he'd have to see Sirius' face again. "If only prisoners and Dementors are in Azkaban, how does that work? How do the prisoners get fed, and like go to the bathroom and stuff?"

"There's bathrooms in the cells, and the food's shipped in," Lily sighed heavily, building up a mental rant in her head she was going to save for Sirius' human ears about him tearing around her carpet with those huge feet that had unclipped claws on the end. If he tore stitches out of her rug, she was going to make him repair that without magic.

Harry did not press for more, knowing he'd pushed his luck for now when James kept going without waiting to see if Harry was done for once.

Sirius didn't bother finishing what was left of his bread, throwing that to Buckbeak as well as he went for the pumpkin juice and draining half of it in one long gulp.

Wiping the rest off his lips, he continued explaining that Crouch had lost all his popularity in that one move. Going from the hero, to the town gossip. People judged him for what had become of his son, thinking if he'd spent more time with him he wouldn't have turned out like that.

"I believe that," Remus said at once, he couldn't wrap his mind around Crouch caring about anything ever again. Not after all this.

So now Fudge had the job, and Crouch was shunted to another department.

Silence beat through the cave after all that. Harry felt he finally understood Crouch's overreaction to finding Winky under the Dark Mark.

"Makes a twisted amount of sense," Lily sighed in agreement.

He'd probably been having flashbacks to a time when his own son had been accused of the same Dark Arts.

Harry told Sirius about how Moody thought Crouch was obsessed with catching Dark wizards.

Sirius nodded along, saying that didn't surprise him. Sirius guessed Crouch was under the delusion if he caught just one more Death Eater, his name would be popular again.

"Let's hope it's a real one, and not just a name," James murmured to himself, keeping an eye on the dog that was finally pretending like he was going to settle, stretching out in front of the fire and closing his eyes, but keeping his ears perked and listening. The message was clear, he'd change back when the chapter was over, he wasn't risking anything else until otherwise.

Ron finished with triumph that was the reason he'd gone into Snape's office.

"Triumphantly?" Remus tore his own protective eyes away from Padfoot to look curiously at James and the book. "What did Ron just latch onto?"

"You're clearly not following along anymore," Lily snorted at him. "Ron's as convinced as we are Snape's a Death Eater, and I can't say I'll be displeased if Crouch does put him away for it," she finished nastily.

"I got that," he waved her off, "but was anyone disagreeing for him to be throwing that around?"

Lily shrugged without response for that.

Sirius shook his head and said that didn't make any sense.

"Apparently Sirius is," Harry noted, looking to his godfather in surprise, who was still pretending he was asleep, clearly not even up to defending himself and still content to let the book do it.

Ron tried to argue back, but Sirius waved him down, pointing out if Crouch wanted to spy on Snape he'd have the perfect opportunity by coming to all these Hogwarts events.

A sharp breath of air was released from the wet slit nostrils, if a dog could be quietly yet smugly triumphant Padfoot was doing it.

"Oh hush you," James sighed without looking up, "if you were thinking it, you should have said it."

Harry asked if Sirius thought Snape was up to anything?

Hermione pointed out Dumbledore clearly trusted Snape,

"And that means nothing to us," Lily said bitterly, her temper flaring at the mention of his name as well as Crouch's.

but Ron cut her off by saying as brilliant as Dumbledore was, it didn't mean a Dark wizard couldn't pull one over on him.

She shot back why had Snape saved Harry's life in first year then?

"Things change," James snapped sourly, "Voldemort hadn't been on the verge of a comeback then. Clearly his priorities went from hating me yet still heeding being a teacher, to appeasing Riddle."

One sharp bark of a laughter came from Padfoot, his tail wagging from side to side a bit at that.

"I remember agreeing to call him that," Remus smirked at James as well. "I'm glad you didn't let us forget."

Harry cut off their argument by asking Sirius' opinion, which shut the other two up.

Lily pressed her fingers to her lips to hide her smile, she wasn't going to let Sirius see how amusing she found it Sirius had managed to stop those kids picking at each other, when Sirius was the source of nearly every fight going on in here.

Sirius admitted they both had a good point. He'd been blasted to find out Snape was working at Hogwarts, he'd always been fascinated by the Dark Arts even as a slimy little kid.

"He just hit the tip of the iceberg," Remus shook his head fondly. "I've heard worse things from him on his good days about Snape." Clearly Sirius was still as lost in his own thoughts in that time to have used such mild insults.

Snape had known more curses coming into that school than some seventh years, and his gang of Slytherin friends had all turned into Death Eaters.

Lily bit at the inside of her cheek, pain welling up inside her chest as she fought to try and say otherwise. Even though she knew the truth, it still hurt that had ended up being so true.

He began ticking off those old names, Rosier and Wilkes who were killed by Aurors after Voldemort fell,

"Wicked," the three Order members suddenly perked up at that information, any failed Death Eaters was good news for them, especially in light of the fact they'd yet to come across a single member of their own group who'd survived past Voldemort's downfall as well.

the Lestranges who were a married couple in Azkaban,

Sirius made a 'humph' noise from his spot on the hearth, and Harry didn't need a translator to realize Sirius was adamantly saying they more than deserved it.

Avery, who'd talked himself out of a cell by saying he'd been under the Imperius curse.

"Something else that will be fixed," Lily's eyes flashed in outrage at hearing of this happening, again.

Yet Snape had never even been accused. This didn't mean much, plenty of them were never even suspected, and Snape was clever enough to keep himself out.

"That's got to be the nicest thing he's ever said about him," James shook his head in disgust.

"We never underestimated him," Remus reminded, "you were the one who near constantly reminded us to keep our checks up for him, he was the quickest to grow wise to when we were up to something. That falls under clever, to keep up with us."

"You boys fascinate me, with the amount of arrogance you hold. How the castle held your fat heads I'll never know," Lily pleasantly informed them while James smirked and Sirius' shoulders shook in silent laughter.

Ron pointed out how Snape and Karkaroff knew each other, but were trying to keep that quiet.

Harry told Sirius what he'd seen yesterday, about how they were upset about something on Karkaroff's arm.

Sirius seemed bewildered about the arm comment,

"Darn," James sighed, "Sirius has actually been a wealth of information so far," most of it something none of them would ever want to hear again, they all mentally agreed, "yet you couldn't answer that one."

It wasn't physically possible for a dog to actually 'stick' its tongue out at anyone, but the pink muscle lolling out of the side of his mouth was point enough.

but said that if Karkaroff was running to Snape for answers, that couldn't be good. He lapsed into a frustrated silence for a moment before continuing that if Dumbledore trusted Snape, than they had to trust Dumbledore for now. Sirius just couldn't see Dumbledore hiring anyone who once worked for Voldemort.

That spiked some different feelings in everyone. Remus threw Sirius a grateful look, unbelievably happy that at least someone other than him was at least still trying to hold out hope Dumbledore wasn't completely this thing putting them through hell.

James and Lily weren't entirely sure they agreed with that assessment, they were absolutely convinced Snape had been a Death Eater at some point, and for Dumbledore not to know was not possible. Yet the headmaster must have some profound reasoning then for keeping Snape an employee. What those reasons were though, they still weren't getting an answer.

Sirius shifted his weight around, his dark gray eyes reflecting back the firelight and causing some dancing shadows to pattern back on the walls in a rather eerie fashion. Harry's mind flashed back to when he'd feared this sight, and knew this would have at one point caused him heart failure to see the Grim so casually watching this room. Now Harry instead forced his mind to get away from that question he was sure he had an answer to, and instead wondered what it must feel like for a tongue to be scraping so harshly over canines and if that hurt while his large body panted next to the heat.

Ron insisted there must be a reason Crouch and Moody were going through Snape's office.

"Got to give him credit," James shook his head fondly, "I give anyone points who fights back with Sirius."

"You're giving yourself too much credit," Lily snipped back, "he's hardly the mastermind you seem to think."

Sirius made a yip noise of protest, but Lily just glared back at him. The message was clear, she wasn't taking it back unless he changed back.

He stood up, spun in a circle, and plopped back down with his back to them instead like a pouting child.

"I was actually speaking of you dear," James told his wife while watching Padfoot with worry growing eyes. They'd moved past the Azkaban talk, and James was really starting to want his best friend back. "I've never met anyone so willing to verbally spar with him."

"Flatterer," she scolded with a quirk of her lips.

Sirius agreed Moody wasn't something to underestimate, but he'd always been fair. Hauled in anyone he could get away with and tried not to resort to violence. Crouch though, that was a different story. If he wasn't ill, what was he playing at? What's he been doing rather than attending the schools event?

"He just managed to ask every question we have been this whole time," Remus rolled his eyes in exasperation.

They all stayed silent for a time after that, the only noise Buckbeak snooping around for any bones he'd missed.

Sirius was the first to break the silence, turning to Ron and asking about Percy, wondering if Ron could send a message to him asking about any news from Crouch?

"I'd think he's already been asked that a dozen times over," Lily scoffed. "If he's in charge of the department, he would have told someone by now if he'd actually seen his boss."

"Maybe he might mention something to Ron though," Remus shrugged in Sirius' defense.

Ron agreed he'd try.

Sirius also suggested dropping a question about Bertha, see if there was any more recent news on her.

Harry told about Bagman telling him more recently there wasn't.

Sirius said he wasn't going to take Bagman at word, he'd been quoted saying how bad he thought of Bertha's memory. Sirius though had known her differently, she'd been in school at the same time as him, and she'd had an excellent use of her memory by dishing out the school's gossip.

Harry remembered back to Bertha being mentioned in the same light in here, and Harry had a feeling it wasn't Sirius' memories or Bertha that was different. It was most likely in fact, something very important about her memories that got her into so much trouble...

He could easily picture her being a liability to the Ministry, which is why it may have taken them so long to go looking for her.

He cut himself off with a weary shake of his head, asking what time it was?

Hermione told it was half past three, and Sirius told them to get back to school. Then he gave Harry a particularly hard look,

Harry tried to look innocent of whatever he was sure Sirius was fixing to tell him, which wasn't fooling anyone, not even the canine who managed another huffing laugh with his back still turned to the lot of them.

as he told them not to come back out here unless Sirius said to. Just keep sending notes, he still wanted to hear if anything else odd was happening. They were not to go wandering around out here though, it would be too easy for them to be attacked.

"I love paranoid Sirius," Lily said sincerely, starting to feel some worry herself, she wasn't used to not hearing Sirius speak for so long. "He actually gives good advice."

Sirius gave her a happy little wag of his tail for that.

Harry shot back the only danger he'd been in this year was from a dragon and a grindylow.

Sirius scowled at Harry, telling him not to get lax. He wasn't going to be breathing easily until this was over in June. Then he added on not to go calling him by name in public, and instead they should use Snuffles.

Three collective snorts of laughter appeared for that, Sirius was even so distracted he rolled over to watch them laugh at this.

"I think I get it," Lily said with a small smile. "Sirius told Harry to call him that because he and Remus are the only ones who would understand who that's referring to."

Remus was frowning in consternation, thinking over in his head what all Sirius and Harry had and could be writing to each other over, and grudgingly saying, "yeah, I guess, and if he's thinking of hiding it from a certain someone," he got out through only slightly gritted teeth, "I guess it would make sense not to go with Padfoot."

James wasn't nearly as amused at the reminder for the secrecy, and in all honesty he was entirely certain that rat could pick up on Sirius' handwriting if anything so it still wasn't much use in hiding it from him if he was trying to intercept their letters, but he wasn't going to knock his best friend's paranoia either.

He gave Harry back his bag and said he'd walk with them back to Hogsmeade, try to find another newspaper.

He turned back into the black dog and led the way back down to the stile. He waited patiently as they each gave him a pat on the head, before he vanished back into the shadows.

Harry felt something very heavy sinking down into the pit of him. Somehow, he just knew the next time he saw his godfather wasn't going to be a good thing...

The others weren't feeling much better, each wanting to rub it in that they'd been right all along, Sirius coming back around had been more terrible than anything, though ironically the worst on the man himself.

Padfoot was stretching leisurely and getting back to his feet, shaking himself off as he watched James fingering the last page of this chapter.

The three of them headed back to Hogwarts, Ron asking if Percy knew all that stuff about Crouch?

"I really wouldn't think so," Lily frowned to herself, "I can't help thinking that isn't common knowledge. Crouch would want to keep that as hushed up as possible, and if he didn't talk about his family much before, I wouldn't think he would afterwards."

Then answering himself that he probably wouldn't care, he'd just admire Crouch more for it.

"That's disgusting," Remus yelped in shock. "Ron can't really mean that," his mind had instantly flashed back to the panicky older brother, sobbing and dragging his kid brother out of an icy lake after thinking something had happened to him.

"Yeah, I think Ron's exaggerating on this one," James agreed sadly. "Even Percy's not that bad."

Harry felt a bone deep shiver that he in no way wanted to pretend to process. Surely he was just getting a chill from sitting still so long...Percy would never turn his back on his family like that...

Hermione was shocked at him, telling him Percy would never hand over his family to dementors.

Ron shrugged her off, saying he just might if they stood in the way of his career.

"Oh please stop," Lily whispered as Padfoot froze in place. It was clear he'd been fixing to change back to a person, but at one last mention of those dementors, he released a high pitched keening noise and roughly shook his head as if to scare off a gnat.

They walked back to the smells of dinner starting, and Ron told Harry how much he should appreciate poor Snuffles, living off of rats just to be around.

"That's the least awful thing I've heard about myself recently," Sirius grumbled as he stumbled slightly on his two feet, before going over to James and taking the book away.

HPHPHPHP

I promise Padfoot popping up like that won't become a regular occurrence, no matter how much I loved writing like that, but I can't say he won't ever come back either...

*That whole conversation happened between me and nahte123456.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Marauders #The Life that Never Lived #GoF #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Padfoot #James Potter #Lily Potter

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pulaasul · 3 years

Text

Billy Batson and the Woes of Journalism

Billy takes Colin Creevey as an intern, as per Professor Mcgonagall's suggestion. There Billy teaches Colin on proper etiquette on taking pictures and sometimes vent on how the Daily Prophet and the entirety of Wizarding Britain's press media write their articles.

[FFN] [Ao3]

---------

Colin was nervous.

He didn't know why Gryffindor's head of house called him to her office. As far as he knew he didn't break any rules like some of his housemates did, even managed to stick by the curfew at the last second.

He has learned his lesson when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, thank you very much.

He wasn't even in the business of pranking like the Weasley twins were.

The Creevey knocked on the door and gulped down anything else that was on his mind.

"Professor Mcgonagall? You wanted to see me?"

"Yes Mr. Creevey!" Professor Mcgonagall nodded. "Come in, come in."

Colin nodded and went inside the room then closed the door behind him.

What caught Colin's immediate attention was that his transfigurations teacher wasn't alone in her office, there was another man seated by the chair facing the fireplace.

"Mr. Creevey I would like you to meet Mr. Batson from the Mudblood." Professor Mcgonagall introduced the man. "I'm sure you remember the person who taught muggle studies at the Great Hall."

Colin nodded as a response.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Creevey." The man offered his hand. "If you have forgotten my name, I'm William Batson."

"It's nice to meet you too Mr. Batson sir." Colin shyly shook the man's hand.

"William's fine." William chuckled.

"Please take a seat Mr. Creevey." Professor Mcgonagall ordered.

Colin nodded as he sat at the chair facing a table with stacks of parchment on top of it.

Professor Mcgonagall nodded as she took her seat behind the table while William took the seat beside the young boy.

"Mr. Creevey, I've received complaints regarding you and your camera. " The Deputy Headmistress cleared sorted the number of parchment on her table to the side. "You have the propensity to brandish your camera and take pictures anytime and anywhere with little regard to anyone near you." She relayed what she had heard. "Some of the staff has recommended that we confiscate your camera while some students had requested the same and even called for its destruction as, in their opinion, you became a nuisance especially for the students taking their OWLs and NEWTs."

Colin visibly sagged as he listened to Professor Mcgonagall's spiel. He knew he was being annoying when started taking pictures every chance he got. The maddest anyone has got due to his behavior was when he had the unfortunate circumstance of taking a picture of both Professor Snape and Mr. Filch, near curfew.

The flash from his camera caused Mrs. Norris to run away and almost fall down a flight of stairs.

"Holy Moley!" William exclaimed. "Surely you can't destroy a student's personal effects?"

"Naturally." Professor Mcgonagall agreed.

"That's good to know." William nodded.

The journalist opened his mouth to continue his line of thought when realization hit him. A smile adorned his face as he processed what he realized, he looked at Creevey and offered a smile.

"I see," William nodded. "I see where you're going with this Professor."

"I am here to offer you something Mr. Creevey." The deputy headmistress offered. "Hogwarts has never seen a passionate photographer in years, and one as talented as you." She handed William a piece of parchment. "In exchange for not brandishing your camera every chance you get, how would you like to be the Mudblood's youngest intern."

"I-I'm not expelled?"

"Of course not." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head. "Wherever did you get that idea Mr. Creevey?"

"I heard some students say that especially with Harry Potter's and Ron Weasley's arrival last year." Colin admitted.

"Your situation is rather minor compared to the infractions committed by Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley at the beginning of last year's term." Professor Mcgonagall huffed. "They could've just sent an owl regarding the matter at King's Cross but they had to fly Mr. Weasley's father's flying car."

"That's going to put a lot of work on the Obliviators." William winced. "And the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as well, considering the distance between Hogwarts and King's Cross station."

"An eight hour travel by train." Professor Mcgonagall nodded.

"I'm surprised Mr. Weasley's father wasn't sent to Azkaban for his son's stunt, it is a major breach of the Statute of Secrecy."

"Fortunately for the Weasley family, some muggles has come up of a reason for the phenomenon."

"That and the law regarding muggle artifacts enchanted by magic has major loopholes." William chuckled. "Mr. Weasley's father is rather clever."

"It's pure dumb luck." Professor Mcgonagall huffed. "In any case, what do you say Mr. Creevey?"

"If sir William Batson would have me."

"Nonsense Mr. Creevey, I would be delighted to have you around." William grinned. "My nephew, Billy, would love to have someone closer to his age around the offices."

"I'm sorry, nephew?"

"I'm homeschooling him since I came to his life." William admitted. "I didn't know Hogwarts would be accepting transfer students, especially someone older than a first year."

"If you don't mind me asking, how old is your nephew?"

"He's sixteen, a bit small for his age." William shrugged. "Late bloomer too, he discovered his magic during his 13th birthday."

"I can understand the need for homeschooling your nephew, although rare, some magical children do exhibit their magical gifts late." Professor Mcgonagall sighed.

"Enough about Billy." William swerved the topic back on track. "I do have questions about this arrangement with Mr. Creevey. First off, I would like for him to take pictures around the school so that I can mentor him on how to take a good photograph, especially moving ones."

Professor Mcgonagall nodded in agreement, the whole idea of letting Colin Creevey intern with the Mudblood was to hone his talent in photography both moving and still. It wouldn't be good for the boy if he were to be banned from taking pictures altogether.

"Tell me Mr. Creevey." William turned to the boy. "Did you ever ask for the consent of the people in your photographs?"

"No sir William." Colin admitted. "Once I see something I like, I would immediately try to snap a picture."

"Does that 'something you like' happen to be in the vicinity of students, teachers and staff?"

"Yes sir, most of the time."

"Well then, consider this your first lesson, you first need to ask if it's okay to take their pictures." William stated. "That way you can gain your subject's trust rather than hate you for taking unsolicited photographs that your subject might or might not find themselves in an unflattering position."

"Tell me Mr. Creevey, are your subjects in your photographs the students of this school?" Professor Mcgonagall asked.

"Not exactly professor." Colin shook his head. "Sometimes I find the sunrise at Gryffindor tower beautiful to look at so I take a picture of it."

"I see where this is going." William chuckled. "Am I right in assuming that most of the students complaining are Gryffindors?"

"Yes." The professor sighed.

"Of course they would complain, most find their sleeping positions and their wake up look unflattering, most especially if they just got out of bed, which is usually the case during early mornings in the common room." William grinned. "Next time, wait until no one is in front of your camera to take your picture, but if you really want it and people still keep on coming, especially if you're not one of the earliest risers, asking nicely would do the trick."

"I quite agree." Professor Mcgonagall nodded.

"So Colin, Can I call you Colin?"

Colin responded with a nod.

"What have you learned today Colin?" William asked.

"I need to ask for permission before taking someone's picture and if I want to capture a scenery I should wait until no one's in front of my camera or ask nicely."

"Good." William nodded. "Are you allowed to go to Hogsmead tomorrow?"

"He is." Professor Mcgonagall answered for the boy. "Provided that he has a chaperone from the staff, as I have meetings at the village almost every weekend, I can be that chaperone."

"Wouldn't that count as favoritism Professor?" William raised an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily, I've chaperoned students on parents' requests before." The deputy headmistress shook her head. "However, we still need for his parent's consent, which the two of us will ask sometime this week."

"Well then, if you are able Colin, meet me at Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, bring with you your camera and the photographs that you have already taken."

"I trust that you will not be brandishing your camera and take any unsolicited pictures Mr. Creevey?"

"Yes Professor Mcgonagall."

"You are dismissed."

Colin exited the room.

"Nephew?" Professor Mcgonagall raised an eyebrow.

"I can't have him knowing about my cursed form, now can I?" William grinned. "Besides, my supposed nephew is among the listed employees of the Mudblood."

"Isn't that a form of corruption?"

"Technically yes, I am getting paid as the Mudblood's editor-in-chief while also chucking out articles." William admitted. "My cursed form, being a separate entity, is also getting paid for producing articles hence getting double compensation. It's just fair, isn't it? I mean I am producing articles both as William and as Billy."

"I am not refuting your logic William." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head. "I would think that an auror as distinguished as you, one who has curtailed the corruption of the descendants of the scourers within MACUSA would be above that."

"So you have heard of that." William sighed.

"The Headmaster's power as the ICW's Supreme Mugwump does help out a lot when researching the backgrounds of people outside of Wizarding Britain, especially one who's arrival came as a surprise for the headmaster."

"Yeah, well, you can blame your current Minister of Magic for that." William sighed. "Seriously, every time I visit the Ministry for permits and travel authorities, the one approving my papers is the Junior Assistant, might as well make the Junior Assistant the Minister for all the work she's doing."

"Minister Fudge has qualities that's leaves a lot to be desired." Professor Mcgonagall sighed.

"What has he done?"

"He claims that Pettigrew is still under Ministry custody when in fact Madam Bones has contacted the school a week ago that he has escaped by placing a guard under the Imperious curse."

"He did what?!" William growled. "What of the Weasleys?"

"Madam Bones's hands are tied, Minister Fudge refused to put a protection detail near the Weasley's residence, and in fact he ordered the DMLE not to pursue the matter."

"Why won't Dumbledore do something about this?" William decided to ask.

"I don't know." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head. "As I understood his position, Albus's hands are tied as well, he can't oppose the Minister or Leader who he answers to."

"That pesky clause." William growled. "Didn't think that a clause that protects every magical government from usurpation from within the ICW would be unknowingly used to protect a criminal running free."

"You hold a seat at the ICW?"

"Don't count your owls yet Professor Mcgonagall." William shook his head. "With Dumbledore as the Supreme Mugwump, the ICW is powerless to act against your ministry, not unless other countries would jump to my aid, which is rather unlikely as I'm a new addition to the council and Pettigrew is largely a Britain problem and not the world."

"Anyway, back to Colin, am I right to assume that none of the students are allowed to be anywhere aside from Hogsmeade?"

"Unless there's an emergency or the headmaster gives an approval."

"Looks like I need to set up a hub at Hogsmeade then."

--------

"Glad you could make it Colin." William took a sip of tea from his cup. "Where's Professor Mcgonagall?"

"This is a lifetime opportunity Sir William sir." Colin enthusiastically replied as he too took a sip of tea. "After we saw you outside, she immediately ordered me to stay here until she would fetch me, she also told me to request you not to leave until she's here to fetch me."

"Just William's fine." William smiled. "I can live with that." He nodded. "In any case, can I see your photographs?"

Colin nodded as he enlarged a stack of photographs he retrieved from his pant pocket and handed them over to William for inspection.

"You've mastered the engorgement and shrinking charms." William commented.

"I wouldn't say I mastered them but I've used them on a lot of occasions, mainly to easily carry things around." Colin admitted. "I don't think people would appreciate me carrying around muggle backpacks, especially the Slytherin people."

"You didn't have to justify yourself Colin." William ruffled the boy's hair. "I was just commenting on your use of the spells."

William looked through the stack of photographs the young boy has taken. He first sorted through the ones Colin took during first year, most of which were still pictures, before moving on to the photographs the young boy took during the current year.

From the looks of things, the boy learnt from his mistakes, even when he was teaching himself. The boy even learned to make pictures move at the end of his first year, which was a feat in of itself.

"Tell me Colin, who taught you to make your pictures move?"

"It was Professor Flitwick sir." Colin admitted. "I might've tried to get a picture of the feather he was levitating which earned me a detention." He chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "I know it wasn't one of my brightest moments."

"A Gryffindor to the core." William chuckled. "What did you do with Professor Flitwick?"

"Surprisingly, he just asked me to get something for him at the top of a shelf then taught me how to make the pictures move after developing them."

"I'm guessing, Professor Flitwick gave you access to a dark room?"

"Yes sir." Colin nodded.

"Moving on." William declared. "Would you sit beside me Colin, we'll begin lesson two."

Colin obliged and sat beside the older man as they stared at a few pictures of one Harry Potter.

"First off, you need to adjust your lens so that you'll have a proper focus on your subject or get a find a suitable location that would force your lens to focus on your subject." William pointed at Harry's wide-eyes and blurred figure. "One would think that your subject was the blond Slytherin behind Mr. Potter."

Behind the blurry but wide-eyed figures of Harry, Ron and Hermoine was Draco Malfoy with narrowed eyes.

"Tha-that's Draco Malfoy!"

"Was he your subject when you took the picture?"

"I was introducing myself to Harry at the Great Hall." Colin blushed. "For the 20th time I think."

"Someone's a fanboy." William teased.

"He's Harry Potter! The Boy-who-lived!"

"One thing you need to keep in mind Colin is that all our human subjects are indeed human, people." William shook his head. "They all have feelings, dreams and ambitions in life, it would just annoy some people with how you treat them as an object of affection rather than their own person."

"Hence we need to ask for their permission when taking their picture." Colin sighed.

"You're a quick study." William praised.

"I had the whole evening to think about what you and Professor Mcgonagall said.

"So long as you understand now, it's okay." William smiled.

William picked another photograph, another still one. He showed the picture to the young boy.

"Tell me what's wrong with this picture Colin."

The photograph showed someone eating an apple too close to the camera as others were studying in the Great Hall, judging from the girl's robes, she was a Ravenclaw student.

"Someone was in the way of my subject?" Colin questioned, unsure of the answer.

"Am I right in assuming that this person in the photograph walked in just as you captured the picture?" William questioned.

Colin nodded. "I wanted to take a picture of Harry Potter when he was studying."

"Instead you got a picture of someone eating an apple walking between you and your subject." William raised an eyebrow.

Colin had the decency to blush at the comment.

"No one can really do anything about this case, apart from the first lesson we had yesterday." William stated. "The next right thing to do would be retaking the photograph again."

The discussion between Colin and William continued on until lunch when the older man treated the young boy. As the both of them ate, the young boy enthusiastically what he thought of Hogwarts, his peers, his housemates and of course his hero, one Harry Potter.

In retrospect, it does explain the multitude of photographs of the famed boy-who-lived.

"I'm gonna have to stop you there Colin." William spoke. "You do know that Harry was only a year old when he supposedly defeated you-know-who?"

"Really?" Colin questioned. "From what I read when after buying some books was that Harry dueled against you-know-who."

"Think about it for a second Colin, what year is Harry currently?"

"Third year? Why?"

"How old is he?"

"Thirteen?"

"Do the math."

"But the books said…" Colin trailed off.

"Here's a life lesson for you Colin." William smiled at the young boy. "You shouldn't believe everything you read or hear at face value."

"Face value?"

"You shouldn't take things literally." William explained.

Colin was silent as he mulled over William's words. In retrospect, he did notice that Harry was annoyed whenever he brought up the boy-who-lived title within his earshot and the level of annoyance Harry exhibit whenever he's near is different from the level of annoyance he has observed on everyone else.

Harry was just too polite to say anything to anyone or to him, unlike some of the other students who wanted to have his camera destroyed.

"Should I apologize to him?"

"You could, but I think he doesn't blame you." William looked at the boy. "Neither do I, a lot of the adults are perpetuating the idea that Harry is some powerful wizard who managed to defeat you-know-who as a baby. Personally I blame the publishers and adults who normalized that way of thinking."

"One of the things why you started a news magazine here?" Colin asked.

"I've read some articles by the Daily Prophet and by Merlin those were bad, really bad."

"How so?"

"For one they don't follow the proper way in writing their headlines and articles." William growled." Seriously adding in, I quote: writes Rita Skeeter your special correspondent', into the article lessens its credibility."

"You really have some bone to pick with how the news are written here." Colin chuckled.

"The list of my grievances of the press media in Wizarding Britain doesn't end there." William shook his head. "I could go on and on, but we'd lose precious time with me ranting." He chuckled.

After lunch William continued inspecting Colin's photographs and imparted lessons about the proper ways to take pictures and proper etiquette when before, during and after taking them. In addition to the photography lessons that William has been teaching the young boy since their meeting with Professor Mcgonagall.

"Looks like the sun is about to set and I see Professor Mcgonagall approaching the shop." William observed. "Let's continue this next week, I'm introducing you to some of the Mudblood's employees."

"Really?"

"You're already an intern, you should know them." William shrugged.

"Thank you so much Mr. Batson sir!" Colin thanked the journalist profusely.

William merely shook his head as Colin's infectious enthusiasm put a smile on his face.

"I told you William's fine." The journalist smiled at the young boy. "Since the sun's setting, practice the spells I taught you alright?"

"Will do!"

---------

"Have you waited long Colin?" William waved at the young boy inside the shop.

"I just arrived myself William." Colin waved back. "Professor Mcgonagall told me the same thing last time."

"I had already told her that I was going to leave you with my employees for the day." William gestured for a blonde man beside him. "Oscar, this is Colin Creevey, he's the Hogwarts intern I've been telling you all about." He placed his hand on the young Creevey's head.

"Hello Colin." Oscar offered his hand to the young boy. "I'm Oscar Ollerton, I'm a pureblood Wizard." He introduced himself to the young boy.

"H-hello, I'm Colin Creevey." Colin introduced himself. "I'm a muggleborn wizard." He whispered.

"Come now Creevey, there's no need to be whisper your blood status, you do know that the Mudblood's owner is a muggleborn himself."

"I-I know." Colin nodded.

"Well I guess with the Slytherin lot, you'd have to be careful." Oscar sighed. "In any case, welcome to the Mudblood." He patted the young boy's back. "Between the three of us, I believe muggleborns are simply related to squibs that were disowned by wizarding families." He shared. "Or of half-bloods, Merlin knows there are more half-bloods than there are pureblood wizards these days."

"Especially with the three generation rule." William interjected. "Oscar I'm placing Colin and Billy in your care." He informed the other man. "Professor Mcgonagall is going to pick Colin up at the end of the day."

"You know Billy can take care of himself, right William?"

"Another pair of eyes never hurt anyone Oscar." William smiled. "Billy would be bringing the other employees who are off duty today, get Colin acquainted with you guys."

"Where will you be William?" Colin asked, curious as to why the owner won't be with them.

"I'm off to the Ministry later today, I'm preparing for my documents for my trip back to the Americas later in the month."

"We'll miss you and Billy, William." Oscar stated.

"Holy Moley, you're acting like we're leaving Wizarding Britain for good Oscar." William chuckled. "This is like the fiftieth time I'm going to the Americas since arriving here. I'm just sorting out the Mudblood papers in MACUSA and the ICW."

"Aren't the ICW meeting venues dependent on who the current Supreme Mugwump is?" Oscar questioned. "In this case, it would be here in Britain?"

"Normally yes," William nodded. "But any of the council members can request to hold meetings in other places, subject to the Supreme Mugwump's approval."

"This time it's the Americas?"

"I don't know, I have to confirm it to MACUSA's current President, President Calderon"

"Huh, I blame Professor Binns for my ignorance about the Wizarding World, especially the ICW." Oscar huffed. "Anyway, Billy and the others must be waiting for you William."

"Okay, Oscar you take charge in introducing Colin to the rest, including Billy."

"Will do."

William vanished with a lightning strike.

"What just happened?" Colin managed to ask, unable to process what has happened.

"While waiting, I'll explain to you what William and I were talking about." Oscar patted Colin's shoulder. "I do hope I'm good at explaining things than Professor Binns."

"I can't keep my eyes open whenever Professor Binns is the teacher." Colin shyly admitted.

"Only a rare few can." Oscar chuckled. "Thankfully I read all my History of Magic textbooks."

---------

"Wow Oscar." Billy grinned. "You've managed to corrupt someone yet again."

"What do you mean corrupt Billy?" Oscar replied indignantly. "Colin was curious as to what your uncle and I were talking about."

"Forgive my friend Oscar kid, he tends to talk everyone's ear off, especially to the ones who would actually listen." Billy chuckled. "Aren't you supposed to introduce us to the kid Oscar?"

"Fine." Oscar rolled his eyes. "Everyone from the Mudblood, please meet Colin Creevey, he's our photographer intern here."

"William's accepting interns now?"

"Yes, Goldstein." Oscar nodded. "Why don't you guys introduce yourselves?"

"Hello Colin," Billy grinned at the young boy. "I'm Billy Batson." He introduced himself. "I'm a no-maj born from the Americas, discovered that I had magic when I was thirteen."

"I'm Mary Atkinson." The woman beside Billy smiled. "I'm a half-blood, my deceased mother was a witch." She shared.

"I'm Frederick Fawcett, a pureblood wizard." The boy to the right of Billy introduced himself. "Did you know that William originally wanted to name the news site Fawcett but decided not to when he found out about my family."

"Does not mean William favors you Freddy." Mary rolled his eyes. "Please try to forgive him, he can be quite vain."

"Hey!"

A few more employees of the Mudblood introduced themselves to Colin, eager to meet the new intern for the company.

From what Colin observed, most of the Mudblood's employees were on the young side, the youngest was in their mid-20s and the oldest was in their late 30s, well except for Batson who's in his mid teens. In hindsight, from what Colin had gathered, the news magazine was relatively new and it made sense that the employees were relatively young.

Apart from Ollerton, Atkinson, Fawcett and Batson, Colin also met an Alves, a Maestro, a Wright, a Bailey, a Wilson, a Goldstein, a Macfusty, and an Alton during his day with the other employees of the Mudblood at Hogsmead.

"This is just half of the entire workforce of the Mudblood." Billy informed. "These guys are supposed to be on their day off, well some of them had their day offs moved to this day, just to meet you."

"I feel sorry for the people who remained at the office, hence some of us would be returning for duty after lunch." Mary sighed.

"They must be swamped with work." Freddy shivered at the thought.

"So tell us how you got to be an intern Colin?" Oscar questioned the boy. "In the years that the Mudblood has existed, William hasn't taken in any interns until now."

Colin blushed at the mere thought of how he got the internship but he nonetheless shared the story enthusiastically he then got to know his relatively older colleagues.

---------

Colin was nervous as he made his way to Professor Mcgonagall's office. He kept on thinking on what he had done for the past week and nothing came to mind as to the reason for this particular summon.

Colin hasn't violated any rules, he managed to get inside the Gryffindor common room before curfew, he hasn't even violated the deal he had struck with his head of house, while he was still wearing his camera on his neck and he didn't brandish the camera every time he wanted to capture a scene.

The Creevey knocked on the door.

"Mr. Creevey, you're just in time." Professor Mcgonagall opened the door. "Come inside, I trust that you brought your camera with you?"

"Yes Professor."

"Very good," The deputy headmistress nodded. "As it happens we were just waiting for you."

Colin was confused, why would anyone wait for him inside Professor Mcgonagall's office.

He entered the office and the room was full of people, from the entire Weasley family to William to the Headmaster himself.

"Colin?" Ginny exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Ginny?" Colin did a double take on who called him. "I… I don't know." He admitted.

"Am… Am I in trouble?"

"No dear boy." Dumbledore shook his head. "You are here at the request of Mr. Batson."

"William?"

"Yes Colin." William nodded. "I would like you to take photographs for the interview I'm taking."

"Children?" The Weasley matriarch called. "Could you introduce us?"

"Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie this is Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor in Ginny's year." The Gryffindor Head Boy obliged. "Colin, this is my family, you've met the twins, Ronald and Ginny." He gestured towards the Weasleys that the Creevey knew. "This is my mother: Molly Weasley, My father: Arthur Weasley and my older brothers: Bill and Charlie Weasley."

"Nice to meet you Messers and Mrs. Weasley, I'm Colin Creevey."

"What a polite young boy." Molly praised. "You say you're in Ginny's year?"

"Yes Mrs. Weasley." Colin nodded.

"He's a big fan of Harrys." Ron supplied.

"Could give Ginny a run for her galleons." The twins snickered.

"I wasn't that bad!" Ginny huffed.

Colin blushed at how the Weasleys described him, he really gave a bad first impressions.

"Now that we're all introduced, I would like to get this interview underway." William declared. "I'm sure Messers Weasley are being missed at their respective workplaces."

The Weasleys straightened their postures as they prepared for the interview.

"Before we begin, should my paper not reveal your names for the paper, our organization values the privacy of all our subjects."

"Please do." Arthur nodded. "Knowing Scabbers was a death eater, other followers of you-know-who could strike at any moment."

"Well then, Colin remember what I taught you last week."

"Yes sir." Colin nodded. "Only take pictures of their neck below and only take still pictures, no need of the potions to move them."

"Still?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Yes still." William nodded. "Body language can still be used to identify someone if we take moving pictures, the entirety of the Weasley family could be compromised, making their request to remain anonymous moot."

"I see, carry on."

"Wait." Professor Mcgonagall interrupted. "What about Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys? Unlike their children, they aren't qualified to wear school-sanctioned robes."

"Right!" William nodded. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, if it's not too much to ask, can we ask you to wear these." He handed the Weasley parents two sets of robes. "Your anonymity would be compromised if people can identify you through your clothes." He explained.

"I do apologize for giving you trouble Mr. Batson." Molly apologized. "I didn't realize a simple request such as this would be so troublesome."

"Not at all." William shook his head. "We at the Mudblood value our subjects' requests and privacy." He smiled at the Weasley family. "Shall we get started then?"

William started to question the entire family starting with the family's head, Arthur Weasley then his wife, Molly and next were the children the twins and then Ginny.

Percy and Ron were the last people to be questioned as they were the first and last owners of the rat animagus.

"Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for your time." William thanked the Weasley parents. "This should shed some light as to how Pettigrew was able to escape and hide from the authorities."

"It was our pleasure." Molly smiled. "I do admit being shocked upon learning that a supposed dead man has disguised himself as my son's pet." She admitted. "The thought that someone who could have been a death eater living in our home was disconcerting to say the least."

"I know." William offered a strained smile. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Pettigrew has escaped Ministry custody earlier this week."

"The Daily Prophet said that he hasn't." Molly's eyes widened even with Percy's denial. "Minister Fudge said so, even your paper reported that Mr. William."

"That is the official stance of the Ministry." William nodded. "Regardless of the Minister's stance on the issue, I believe you won't lose anything if you would prepare yourselves for any event." He offered.

"Constant Vigilance, as my good friend Moody would say." Dumbledore interjected.

"Thank you for informing us Mr. Batson." Arthur thanked the news reporter. "I don't think I will gamble my family's life and safety on the Minister's words."

"That would be for the best." William nodded. "I'll send your family an owl and give you a hundred galleons in a week or two."

"No, no that won't be necessary Mr. Batson." Arthur shook his head, trying to politely decline the offer.

"Don't get me wrong Arthur, every the Mudblood subject is legible to get monetary compensation for sharing to us their side of their story." William smiled. "This will also include the monetary compensation for your children back when Pettigrew was first discovered within the castle walls."

"If that's the case, then we thank you for the compensation Mr. Batson." Arthur sighed.

"I am simply adapting the muggle press standard in the Americas." William admitted. "I am also of the opinion that the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly adapt the same system but alas everyone's disdain for muggles here in Wizarding Britain is prominent."

"You do not include the Quibbler?" Percy questioned.

"The Quibbler hardly have as many subscribers as the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly do." William shook his head. "I don't think Mr. Lovegood could pay for the compensation of his subjects."

The Weasleys exchanged goodbyes to everyone in the room before exiting.

"Mr. Creevey, why don't you tour Mr. Batson around the school?"

"No that's okay Headmaster." William shook his head. "Colin still has to develop the pictures he took today and I need them for tomorrow's paper." He explained. "Remember the spell to fast track the development of still pictures."

Colin nodded excitedly.

"You have brewed the potions correct?" William asked some more.

Colin continued to nod as a response.

"Off you go then, I'll send you a Patronus if I want to meet with you immediately."

"Right away William." Colin gave the Batson a salute before he exited the room.

"Are you certain you will be okay on your own Mr. Batson?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Positive." William nodded. "Although I must thank you for discovering the Patronus charm's communicating properties, it has been a literal lifesaver, especially for the MACUSA aurors."

"Think nothing of it Mr. Batson." Professor Dumbledore smiled. "It was needed during our fight against Voldemort."

"Still, thank you for divulging that particular spell to the ICW."

"Glad to be of help Mr. Batson." Professor Dumbledore nodded.

---------

William exited Professor Mcgonagall's office and leisurely walked around the castle's halls. He looked around and saw various prefects about to begin their patrol. He even saw Professor Flitwick, Percy Weasley and Colin Creevey talking with each other.

"I trust that this wouldn't be a common occurrence Creevey?" William heard Percy question. "You may have been with me and my family and took some photographs, it doesn't mean that you can wander around past curfew."

"It's quite alright Mr. Weasley." Professor Flitwick assured. "Professor Mcgonagall has informed me Mr. Creevey's circumstances, I will personally lead him to the Gryffindor common room once he is finished with his tasks."

"Please don't trouble yourself Professor." Percy shook his head. "After I've met with the prefects on duty for the night, I will see to it that Mr. Creevey will be back to the Gryffindor Tower myself."

"Mr. Creevey, please proceed to the Dark Room, just near the Ravenclaw tower." Professor Flitwick ordered. "I will negotiate with the school's head boy."

Colin merely nodded obliged with the order given to him.

"I commend you for your adherence to the rules Mr. Weasley, 10 points to Gryffindor." Professor Flitwick praised. "However, I must insist that I escort Mr. Creevey back to Gryffindor Tower as I am aware of the many tasks Mr. Creevey has on his plate." He explained. "I am there both to ensure Mr. Creevey's safety as he deals with the various tasks of printing the photographs and guide him for his first time-constrained work."

"Time-constrained?"

"You are aware that the interview you have had with the Mudblood news magazine was abrupt?"

"I must admit it was disconcerting to be called to my Head of House's office had the twins put themselves in trouble." Percy nodded.

"Mr. Creevey was also caught unaware of this interview," Professor Flitwick sighed. "And the photos are needed for tomorrow's paper, you understand?"

"I see what you mean for this being a time-constrained project." Percy nodded. "Very well, if both the headmaster and Professor Mcgonagall are aware of this arrangement, then I guess I'll concede to your directive Professor Flitwick."

The Charm's professor nodded. "Run along now, I'm sure the Head girl and the other prefects are waiting for you."

William smiled at the interaction between the student and teacher. He can already tell that Percy Weasley will be most efficient working in the Ministry, his work-ethic would leave him untainted by the Ministry's corruption, barring the Imperious curse of course.

The journalist continued on walking around the school's hallways aimlessly. William didn't have an exact location in mind to go visit, but there was this pull on his core, on his magic, on his very person that he couldn't help but let it lead him.

William arrived at the castle's seventh floor, a floor he had yet to explore. He felt that the pull was stronger here, as if it was a child impatient for their chaperone to keep up with them. He shook his head and let it lead him to a blank wall.

"This is where you were." William smiled as he caressed the wall.

Soon enough, a majestic door appeared on the wall. William pushed the door that just appeared and went inside.

#billy batson #harry potter #shazam #captain marvel #minerva mcgonagall #percy weasley #ginny weasley #professor flitwick #story #woes of journalism

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