idk if visiting my old school was good or bad for my mental health :/

Bring Back the Bastard Daily Prompts

Hello, folks! I'm posting these two weeks before we begin our fest, on September 1st, to give folks some inspiration on what to write each day as we celebrate Severus Snape's pettiest, most dastardly moments. I specifically picked out moments Snaters always harp on, that Snapedom personally enjoys--from any moment with Trevor to bitching at Lupin at Sirius, to the moments that Lily turns away and Dumbledore's face flashes with disgust--sure, he's a bastard, but he's our bastard, and that's what we like about him. You don't want him? Good. We'll keep him. Here are 30 scene prompts for 30 days--it's a long list, pulled chronologically from all seven books, but I found that it reminded me of everything I love about this character. The moments where he's called deranged, the moments where he slips into all-caps, the ugliest moments of the soul. Hope yall enjoy. Excited to kick off the fest starting September 1st, and absolutely excited to see what Snapedom will do. Let's Bring Back the Bastard! The prompts are below the readmore.

Day 1: The Scar Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacheer with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes--and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. "Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. "What is it?" asked Percy. "N-nothing." The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look--a felling that he didn't like Harry at all. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy. "Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to--everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Day 2: Bad Impressions Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new--celebrity."

Day 3: Potions Class "Potter!" said Snape suddenly "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand shot into the air. "I don't know, sir," said Harry. Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut--fame clearly isn't everything."

Day 4: A Horrible Sight Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. "Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but-- "POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped. "I just wondered if I could have my book back." "GET OUT! OUT!"

Day 5: Maybe He's Ill "Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table...Where's Snape?" Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions. "Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!" "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him--" "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Day 6: Slytherin Takes the Field "But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "But I booked it!" "Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

Day 7: No Quidditch For You! "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." "Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong." Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly. Snape looked furious.

Day 8: Expelliarmus! "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry--you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!" "Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear. Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at *him* like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. "As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our fist spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course." "I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. "One--two--three--" Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Day 9: Only Bite Him A Little Bit, Please "Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

Day 10: Poisoning Trevor The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. "Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned." The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat. There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small op, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm. The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. "Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Day 11: Insufferable Know-It-All Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. "Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between--" "We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on--" "Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..." "Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf--" "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Fire more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Day 12: Your Saintly Father "I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you--your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't gotten cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts." Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

Day 13: Don't Talk About What You Don't Understand "KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end o his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..." "The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" --he jerked his head at Ron-- "I'll come quietly...." "Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black...pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay...."

Day 14: A Great Disappointment "He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have let somebody in the room with him. When this gets out--" "HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE *OR* DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS--HAS--SOMETHING--TO--DO--WITH--POTTER!" "Severus--be reasonable--Harry has been locked up--" BAM. The door of the hospital wing burst open. Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself. "OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!" "See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw--" "THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth. "Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!" "YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!" shrieked Snape. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT--" "That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the war ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?" "Of course not!" said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. "I would have heard them!" "Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further." Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward. "Fellow seems quite unbalanced," said Fudge, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore." "Oh, he's not unbalanced," said Dumbledore quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

Day 15: Haven't You Heard? "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er--Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'....Thought everyone'd know by now...Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night...He's packin' now, o' course."

Day 16: I See No Difference "And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain." "Potter attacked me, sir--" "We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted. "--and he hit Goyle--look--" Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi. "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly. "Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!" He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth--she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Day 17: The Dark Mark Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He struck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. "There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eater to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Day 18: If You Are Ready...If You Are Prepared... "Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready...if you are prepared..." "I am," said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely. "Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

Day 19: Obviously "Now...how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard. "Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. His eyes on Snape, Harry added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange. "You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape. "Yes," said Snape quietly. "But you were unsuccessful?" Snape's lip curled. "Obviously." Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" "Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. "Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge. "I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily. "Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile. "I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'--er--backgrounds...." She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson, and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked around at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber. "No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

Day 20: Very Like His Father "How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?" Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly. "Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly. Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius' wand-tip to his face. "Sirius!" said Harry loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him. "I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better." "Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?" "Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?" "Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform...gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?" Sirius raised his wand. "NO!" Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, "Sirius, don't--" "Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. "Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

Day 21: Wormtail's Whine "We...we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly. "Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?" He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man stood frozen. "As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape lazily. The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was encased in a bright silver glove. "Narcissa!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Bellatrix! How charming--" "Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Snape. "And then he will return to his bedroom." Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him. "I am not your servant!" he squeaked, avoiding Snape's eyes. "Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me." "To assist, yes--but not to make you drinks and--clean your house!" "I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments," said Snape silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord--" "I can speak to him if I want to!" "Of course you can," said Snape, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Day 22: A Loving Caress Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice? "Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" --he indicated a few of them as he swept past-- "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" --he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony-- "feel the Dementor's Kiss" --a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall-- "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" --a bloody mass upon the ground.

Day 23: Better People "What does it matter?" said Malfoy. "Defense Against the Dark Arts--it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like an of us need protecting against the Dark Arts--" "It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle--" "They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!" "Then why not confide in me, and I can--" "I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!" There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but--"

Day 24: Revulsion and Hatred Etched on His Face "Severus..." The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading. Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. "Severus...please..." Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"

Day 25: Don't Call Me Coward Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi-- "No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore. "You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them--I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, woudl you? I don't think so...no!" Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight. "Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward--" "DON'T--" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly deranged, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them-- "CALL ME COWARD!"

Day 26: The Guest Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy's wand, pointed it directly at the slowing revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds. "Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort. Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as thought they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!" "Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

Day 27: I Regret It "All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer." Snape did not speak. "Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen." "My Lord--" "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine." "My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand. "It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last." And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: But then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. "Kill." There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. "I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

Day 28: You Hurt Her! "Tuney!" said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. "Who's spying now?" he shouted. "What d'you want?" Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. "What is that you're wearing, anyway?" she said, pointing at Snape's chest. "Your mum's blouse?" There was a *crack*. A branch over Petunia's head had fallen. Lily screamed: The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. "Tuney!" But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. "Did you make it happen?" "No." He looked both defiant and scared. "You did!" She was backing away from him. "You *did*! You hurt her!" "No--no I didn't!" But the lie did not convince Lily: After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused....

Day 29: Save Your Breath "I'm sorry." "I'm not interested." "I'm sorry!" "Save your breath." It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here." "I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just--" "Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?" He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. "I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine." "No--listen, I didn't mean--" "--to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I any different?" He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole....

Day 30: Anything "If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for the mother, in exchange for the son?" "I have--I have asked him--" "You disgust me," said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to drink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?" Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. "Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her--them--safe. Please." "And what will you give me in return, Severus?" "In--in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

The vines that bind us - Chapter 6

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Elevator took her all the way to the highest floor. When she exited, the floor was back to perfect condition and several more plants were awaiting her. She promised them silently to check on them soon and went to the main office. She knocked several times on the doors, but nobody answered. Hesitantly, she pushed the doors open, but no one was in the office. After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

“Didn’t you cause enough drama…” Lila never got a chance to end that sentence, because Mari delivered a straight one strong enough to send her flying several feet back before she came crashing down. Blood pouring from her nose.

The girl was about to launch herself at the liar and pound her into the ground when two strong arms grabbed her. She noticed the characteristic spikes on the sides of black gloves and stated to trash around. “Let me go you overgrown furry!” She screamed. “I will mix her face with the concrete until it’s nice and even!”

She tried to wiggle herself out of his grip. Most of the class surrounded Lila and were trying to help her. It only served to irate Mari more. She kicked her leg back, hitting Batman’s shin. It was finally enough to let her go. The girl fell down... right into the embrace of Chloe and Adrien who managed to get to her on time. The two blondes hugged her tightly. 

“There. It’s alright Goldie. You got her good. Rest.” The girl cooed and pressed her best friend to her chest, muffling the sobbing. Adrien was just silently there and hugged them both. When Batman tried to approach again, the boy sent him an angry glare. The warning was clear and the vigilante didn’t really need anything from the girl right now. 

After a bit, Mari fell asleep in their embrace. The stress finally caught up to her and she couldn’t hold exhaustion at bay any longer. Chloe easily picked her up and started to walk toward a taxi that was conveniently parked nearby, waiting for them. 

“What!?” Angry Alya looked from Lila who was now being cared for by a pair of paramedics. She turned to Commissioner Gordon who was discussing something with Batman. “You!” 

The policeman looked at her curiously. Alya continued her shouting. “You’re letting her go just like that? She just assaulted Lila! She might’ve ruined her modeling career! Arrest her!”

“Miss.” Gordon shook his head. “These are some of the braves men and women in Gotham, but I doubt any of them would dare to try and arrest her right now. They don’t get paid enough.”

“What?!” Several kids started to protest, but Gordon just ignored them and directed Harvey to start taking statements. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with these brats. 

--------

Bruce sighed as he exited the Batmobile. Almost immediately, he was swarmed by the rest of his family. Jason and Dick practically carried him, still in the suit, to the movie room. 

“Now, Ladies and Gents, we have some of the greatest shows for you. We call it… The Demon Trashing!”

What followed was a clip taken from monitoring in the anteroom of the CEO office in Wayne Tower. He watched as Damian, dressed in civilian clothing, and carrying a simple ninjato on his back entered the room. He walked around for a moment before knocking on the main office doors, but whatever answer he got seemed to have irritated him given the scowl that formed on his face. He walked over to the PA’s desk that stood there, but no one was here. After a short moment, one could see the elevator doors open again and a small girl in a smart outfit walked in. Damian dashed to the shadows before she had a chance to notice him. 

Bruce resisted the urge to facepalm. He could already see where this was going. 

When the girl started to walk to the desk, his son suddenly reappeared with the sword drawn. He pressed the blade to her neck. From the angle, it was impossible to see either of them expressions. The man did not expect his son to kill a civilian for trespassing, but the amount of glee on Jason’s and Dick’s faces was suggesting that his headache hadn’t really started.

The girl suddenly grabbed the blade and pushed it away. Damian, probably acting on instinct, tried to cut her, but she just walked out of the way and disarmed his son before knocking him out. There was a short skip to when Jason and Dick entered the room. The small girl was clearly very much irritated with them from the start and when she reached her limits, she used a pencil as a projectile to open the elevator doors. 

A small smirk made its way to Bruce’s face when he saw her storm past his three sons, carrying the ninjato through a tissue. The video ended with Damian waking up.

“And that’s how Drake’s new PA trashed a certain Demon Spawn. I swear, she could probably give Luthor’s bodyguard a run for her money when it comes to being a badass” Jason commented on the silent video in his typical fashion. 

“Tt. She stole my sword.” Damian huffed.

“You mean the sword she later used to stab Riddler’s man before disarming him?”

“I still consider the best part of today when she called B. an overgrown furry,” Dick said trying to hold back on laugher.

“Wait. I have a new personal assistant?” Tim asked half-awake. 

“Yeah. She was supposed to be an intern, but apparently, Sarah hired her on the spot and quit.”

“Oh… Cool.” Tim said and took a swing from his gargantuan cup. 

“Did you manage to pull the video of her taking down Riddler?” Bruce asked.

“The cameras malfunctioned before she even entered.”

“It was me,” Tim confessed. “I was still in my office when the alarm sounded. I keep a separate copy of my suit in a hidden compartment. To save time I dressed there, but I had to disable the CCTV…”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever.” Jason shut him up. “I also got the part when Damian’s eyes roll back as my new screensaver.”

“Tt. You’re lucky I don’t have my sword.”

“Don’t think you’re getting it back any time soon,” Bruce said in a stern tone and sighed. “What exactly do we know about her?”

“She is from Gotham, but she lives in Paris for some years. She said she was practicing martial arts since she was five.” Dick started

“She is also one bada…”

Jason was interrupted by Alfred, who entered the room with a plate full of cookies and tea. “A young woman just called. She asked me to forward a message to young master Damian.”

“Tt. What is it?”

“I quote. ‘Good luck getting your sword back now. Police took it as evidence. Suck it, Wayne.’ I believe the woman was young miss Chloe Bourgeoise.”

Dick, Jason, and Tim were literally rolling on the floor laughing. Bruce just facepalmed.

“No, you can’t break into the evidence room. You might jeopardize the whole investigation if you taint the evidence.” Bruce said in an exasperated tone. 

----------

It was late after midnight (or even early morning, depends on your definition) when the vigilantes returned from the patrol, only to meet Tim and Barbara working on something on Batcomputer in tandem. Whatever it was, they were completely devoted to it since neither realized they had company until Bruce made a coughing sound.

“Not now.” 

“What exactly are you doing?” The father inside Bruce resisted the urge to force-feed Tim some sleeping meds. 

“We’re doing the background check,” Barbara said while typing frantically.

“On my new personal assistant.” The boy supplied.

“oh?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Like… from what we found she is either the worst bitch on the block or strongest badass around.”

“Langauge master Tim.” Alfred scolded him. 

“Sorry. But like seriously! There are so many contradictions.”

“Check this out.” She pulled out a scan of a letter. It was largely creased, but still perfectly readable. “Her adopted parents one day disappeared, leaving her everything they owed sans some of their clothes. It was like they packed and left.”

“You suspect a foul play?”

“I’m not sure. The investigation was a joke and so was the follow-up proceeding. The interesting part is the custody battle that followed.” 

“Jagged freaking Stone and Parisian Mayor.” Tim interrupted Babs. “It ended with a compromise that Jagged was lawfully named her uncle and Mayor became her guardian. She was the one who suggested it.”

“How can one be lawfully named someone’s uncle?”

“Apparently one can in France. Or they just made some concessions to a celebrity. Seen weirder things.” He shrugged. “She was also his designer for years now. You remember that mysterious MDC?”

“The one you used to fawn over?” Bruce asked.

“She is brilliant so sue me.” The boy huffed. “Also, it stands for Marigold Désign et Création. She runs an internet boutique where she takes commissions from both commoners and celebrities.”

“What does it have to do with anything?” 

“I’m getting to that. Gee.” 

“Maybe I will get there?” Babs tried to take over. “She’s been working part-time as a babysitter to get funds to buy materials for new clothes and received nothing but praise. She also became a class representative. A successful one at that. She also holds the national championship in U-17 Mechastrike.”

“How is that important exactly?” 

“You wanted to know everything about her B., so we are giving you everything.” Tim sassed

“Just… get to the important parts.” He shook his head. What did he do to deserve this?

“Fine. Her school records are a mess. Skipping that they wouldn’t hold to any official inspection, they straight-up contradict each other.” Tim waved his hand in some undefined gesture. “On one hand, she receives nothing but praise from the teachers, but at the same time, there are multiple bullying reports and even several assaults in here. Most of them were met with harsh punishments.” Tim opened a separate file. “Too harsh according to the school charter.”

“It didn’t help that the letter from her parents also mentioned these kinds of things.” Babs chimed in, trying to regain control of the tale. Bruce just gave an exasperated sigh. He just gave up and allowed them to solve it, mentally already cataloging the information. 

“Except! There were statements from several people that contradicted this. Especially Chloe Bourgeois. She said, ‘Puh-lease! Mari is the kindest doormat in the world. I was mean to her for years and she still welcomed me back with open arms.’ Given her track record, I’m inclined to believe it.” 

“There was also this Drama, capital ‘D’, with MDC stealing designs. Several tabloids caught the wind of it and it even led to the police investigation. Only after Jagged Stone intervened, the thing quickly shut up.”

“Now onto the juicy parts!” Babs smiled. 

“And that was what? An introduction?”

“Yup. She has a certified black belt in two different martial arts, is a master gymnast, has an IQ of over 130 and owns two separate businesses in Paris.” She quickly read. “As we mentioned, she is the honorary lawful niece of Jagged Stone, but also designed for Clara Nightingale, Nadia Chamack, worked with Gabriel Agreste, was offered an internship from Audrey Bourgeois before she became her ward. She was seen hanging out with Kagami Tsurugi, world-renowned fencer, and Luka Couffaine, the rising star under Jagged Stone’s tutelage.”

“That was fast.” Tim summarised. 

“Yeah. Also, she was adopted some nine years ago. She originally comes from Gotham.”

“Do we know her biological parents?” Bruce asked, getting serious.

“That’s where it gets juicy. When I tried to pull out her adoption files, the computer shut down to avoid detection. There is some serious encryption on it. Probably due to who her father is. We got some of it. She described her mother as ‘wearing an outfit that showed more skin than her beachwear’, so we suspect she was a prostitute.”

“Hm… It’s not unheard of. You say she was with her mother until she was eight?”

“Between seven and nine the file said.”

“Hm… Do you think she is a threat?”

“No. But I have a different question. Why didn’t the league investigate Paris’ supervillain?”

“We were made aware of him only recently, after what our satellites mistook for Poison Ivy attack,” Batman said in an irritated tone. The fact that there was a supervillain running around for close to four years completely undetected grated on his nerves. “Diana Prince has been investigating for some time now. She has it under control.”

“The only problem I see is that she is only sixteen,” Barbara pointed.

“I mean I’m barely seventeen and I ran this company for two years now. And don’t act high and mighty. You started playing Batgirl at fifteen.”

“Played?!” She screamed. 

“You wore a hoodie and carnival mask at first.”

This quickly developed into an insults contest until Bruce finally had enough. He just shook his head and left. Alfred silently followed him, carrying a plate of sandwiches. 

-----

The next morning, Mari woke up in her bed, with Chloe and her curled together in a mess of limbs and clothes. Of course, she panicked and jumped up, waking the blonde.

“Honestly, Goldie, five more minutes. I need my beauty sleep!” She murmured.

“Um… Why are we in one bed?”

“Because you fell asleep hugging me yesterday and refused to let go at any point. I swear I wanted to get a crowbar. Ridiculous!”

“Sorry…” Mari gave her a sheepish smile.

“None of that! You ruined Lila’s face in one punch. Adrien texted me that in the end she lost seven teeth and will require plastic surgery for her nose not to look like a mashed potato.”

“No…!” Her eyes widened. 

“Yup.” Chloe grinned, popping the ‘p’. 

“That’s awful! I can already imagine how much the class will hate me now! And the employees that saw this! There were cameras there!”

“Some people actually applauded you. It could be also because you called Batman an overgrown Furry though…” Chloe’s voice wandered off. Mari collapsed onto the bed, head buried in the pillows.

“Kill me…”

“Can I kill you with hugs?”

“Fine…”

When the panicking bluenette finally calmed down, Chloe got her to sit down and showed her the headlines.

Brave WE employee saves dozens of lives!

A hero without a suit!

Civilian stopped Riddler!

Personal Assistant takes down a dangerous criminal!

They were all overly positive and showed much support. Only one tried to vilify her based on Lila’s comment and her being punched, but it quoted Ladyblog as a reliable source, so it was dismissed. The majority of the comments were also positive. The ‘overgrown Furry’ was already trending too. 

Only one of the articles contained the list of names of people killed in the attack.

Ted Black - a security guard, put himself between the bullet and another employee Sigfried Osborne - a security guard, died when he tried to stop them from entering Molly Bishop - a PR specialist, called the police when she thought the guards were busy Heidi Dickson - a security guard, killed in crossfire Craig Lloyd - an HR employee, wrestled the gun from one of the henchmen before he was shot in the back. Ethel Arson - A lawyer, killed in crossfire Christian Thorn - a security guard, shot two of the riddler’s henchmen in defense of a group of hostages.

Their room had several live plants on the rail. Mari walked to them and allowed her powers to flow. Slowly, the flowers bloomed. She picked seven beautiful flowers and put them on the table.

“Mari… I’m sure they will understand if you don’t come to work today…” Chloe placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulder.

“No… No. I won’t be scared into hiding by Riddler of all people.” She said with determination and some coldness in her voice. She stood up and walked to her suitcase. From there, she gathered a different outfit. Now she would wear a red shirt, a black blazer with the Ladybug logo on her right breast, a black pencil skirt, and black leather ballet shoes (she still hated heels). But the greatest change was her hair and eyes. She let go of her twin pigtails and allowed her wavy hair to run free. It was no longer black, instead turning dark blue with purple highlights. Her eyes also changed. Her bluebell eyes also changed. The iridescent green she used to suppress was now mixed with the normal eye color, giving an entrancing effect that was hard to stop looking at.

“It’s time to rock this place.” She smiled at her best friend.

------- (Play ‘Confident’ by Demi Lovato) --------

Marigold and Chloe entered the Wayne Enterprises in full stride. Flashing her pass, she got them through control without the queue or checking, much to the shock of the class (who still had no idea Mari was now technically their boss). Adrien showed the girls thumbs up. Lila was seething, but neither Chloe nor Marigold paid her any mind and guards didn’t let her follow them and straight-up kicked her to the back of the queue. 

Mari gave a nod to the receptionist, but they didn’t slow down. Elevator was about to close, but one of the employees held it for her. Once they entered, she quickly checked her tablet and the to-do list she had for that day. First stop: PR. Chloe was going to HR to receive a new mentor after… the previous day.

When she entered the Public Relations department, Mari didn’t stop to chat with the employee that looked at her in awe. Her goal was the department’s head office and that’s where she would go. Gently knocking on the doors before entering, she pushed the doors. While she was smiling kindly, her whole posture screamed professional. 

“Hello. Mr. Drake will need the Friday press conference plan adjusted in response to what happened yesterday. There needs to be a mention of the event, as we won’t want to sound too detached. The press would tear us apart. Some gesture to show the public that we care…”

“Maybe a memory board in the lobby? And perhaps schedule Mr. Drake to visit each of the families somewhere next week?”

“I think it will be okay…” For a short moment, Mari allowed her confidence to drop, but she quickly gathered herself and made a note in her calendar. 

“If that’s all…”

“I will also need a press statement no later than by lunch.” She said quickly. “Make it a priority and forward it to me to read before you post it.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The man smiled. Mari was about to leave when he spoke again. “And thank you for yesterday. Many people owe you their lives.”

She stopped in her tracks, unable to say a word. Finally, she regained her composure. “Thank you. I… I’m coping.” 

As she left the office toward the elevator, Lila and Alya, who were interning in that department, tried to speak with her, but she didn’t even spare them a glance. Alya tried to grab her, but she was stopped by one of the older employees. As the elevator doors closed, Mari could see the girls receive a serious scolding. A grin made its way onto her face. Lila and Alya would have a really hard life for the next two months. Especially if she had anything to say about it. 

Her next stop was the security office. She entered it with a neutral expression, but it lasted only maybe five steps from the elevator. She didn’t tear up. She was a Gothamite inside. Right as one walked out of the elevator, there was a small bar, behind which a board was filled with pictures. Some looked really old, black and white or even sepia, while some others were high-quality and new. Roughly half of them were the clean pictures one would attach to a resume. The other half were profile pictures from social media. Or a photo that was taken in the forest. One was even a detailed drawing of a person. There were maybe fifty of them in total.

“It’s a reminder. Guards who lost their lives since the founding of WE” An older man said. “Silas Wayne started the tradition after he served in the Great War. You’re here for something miss?”

“Oh… Yes. The security on Friday press conference. We must increase it by about fifty percent. And make sure that only those with invites can enter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her.

“Um…” Mari suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. 

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault.” He said in a comforting voice.

“Thank you, sir.” She allowed a weak smile to enter her face before she left. Only two more stops. 

The elevator next took her to the Legal Department. She had many things that needed to be done here. Chloe met her as soon as she exited the elevator. Mari managed to regain her professional posture and once more emanated the aura of confidence. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up, but she was determined to show that she was okay. 

“I already forwarded your requests. At first, Madame McKinsley was reluctant, but apparently, our entrance is already the top corporate gossip. Good job Mari-bear.”

“Good. Thanks, Chlo. Now get back to work before someone sees me get friendly with an intern. I have a plan.” Before they separated, Marigold let a smile ghost her face. “One more thing. You’re free to unleash the foxes of war.”

Chloe lit up at that. Her whole demeanor changed to almost beaming light. She immediately started planning. Mari left her to the devious scheming and instead went to McKinsley office. The head of the Legal Department was a middle-aged woman with short, slightly graying brown hair and no-nonsense composure.

“Miss Bourgeoise informed me of your visit. I already had several documents prepared, but I will need clarification on several things.” She offered the young PA a chair, but Mari refused with a shake of her head. She opened her tablet and started to go through the list.

“First of all, the video that caused the attack was leaked by an intern. What actions exactly can be undertaken in response?”

“There are several options. We could terminate their contract entirely, but as it’s their first offense, it could’ve been seen as too harsh. It would also require to terminate all internships.” The woman was clearly unamused by the situation. Mari just raised her eyebrow and gave her a quizzing look.

“I’m not sure who in their right mind wrote their contracts, but when I track them down they are gonna get their ass demoted to toilet cleaner. It’s one big mess.”

“Don’t I know it…” Mari deadpanned. “So, other options?”

“We can move them between departments, so having them demoted to Toilet cleaners could also work, but it’s not exactly a legal punishment. The fact that it was Riddler really threw a wrench in any legal proceeding as he is clinically insane and the video was not directly calling him out and only speaking about him. I could give you the legal mumbo-jumbo, but the gist is that they are somewhat protected.”

“What about revoking their privileges?”

“Take that to HR.” 

“Will do. Now, about the next matter.”

“It was much easier. She can’t do anything to you, not even forward the bill. You were in shock and there are several recordings showing her taunting you. If she pushes it, she will lose. You’re a public hero right now. Good job by the way.”

“I was only doing what had to be done.” Mari brushed it, doing her best to keep a professional face. 

“Sure…” It was clear that McKinsley did not believe her.

“Now about the last thing?”

“Ah. The slander. I already directed it to our French and Italian departments, but it’s slow-going. That witch made it an international case. It will definitely bite her, but we have to be patient.”

“Brilliant. Thank you for your time.” Mari left the room with a grin on her face. Now onto the HR.

As she strode through the floor, people turned their heads to look at her. In the killing outfit, she looked older than she was and the aura of confidence and professionalism made her seem like a powerful woman. They had no idea just how powerful she was, but the way she carried herself was enough to make them shake in their shoes. 

----

When the doors of the elevator opened, Juleka and Rose were waiting for her. Both looked furious. Before either got a chance to say anything though, Marigold silenced them with a murderous glare that took away their voice. She strode past them looking fabulous. Any other employee removed themselves from her path to avoid her ire. The rumors were already circulating and the fact that she took down Riddler before Batman even arrived did wonder to her image. 

“Hello. I had an appointment.” She said when she entered the head of the department office. 

“Yes. Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was told you forwarded a list of topics, but an intern lost it.”

“Was this intern from my class?” She asked in a cold voice.

“Um… Yes actually.” The woman said after checking a small post-it.

“Then it was probably sabotage.” Mari spat the words. “I asked to have a list of possible punishments in regards to the newest intern group prepared. Two of them were responsible for the leak. Sadly, as one of them is the class representative, she is quite popular.”

“Ah. Well…”

“First of all, both Alya Cesaire and Lila Rossi are to have all possible privileges revoked for breaking the rules. They leaked or were involved in the leak of video. Neither of them is to be handed anything more important than refilling a stapler or bringing someone coffee, to ensure they are no further threat to this company. They will also receive an official warning and an entry to their acts. They are also restricted to the lower floors. If possible, I want their access to electronic devices restricted. Maybe assign them a pager each so it doesn’t negatively impact their work.”

“Hm… I will see what can be done, Ma’am.” The woman replied, already going through her notes.

“Good. Onto the next business, while it pains me to do it so fast, we need to hire more security as soon as possible. But make sure to triple check their backgrounds.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And the last thing. Why was Damian Wayne allowed to bring a ninjato into the building?”

“There is actually no restriction on bringing swords ma’am. We’re trying to fix it, but we’ve been blocked at every turn even when Mr. Wayne was the CEO.”

“And whose permission is needed?” Mari allowed a small grin.

“Yours would do. Sarah was always too stuck up to even leave her desk unless forced so she didn’t care that much.”

“Consider my permission granted. Forward the paperwork to me.”

“And if Mr. Drake disagrees?”

“He can try.” She said coldly, remembering how close she came to being cut in half.

“Oh…”

“Last thing. When is the top floor scheduled for repairs?”

“It should be done already. It was made to withstand an assault from a much larger force, so we only had to replace the furniture. Following the instructions that were left, we repotted the plants into bigger and more decorative pots. As per your request, we added some more plants.”

“Thank you. Plants always calm me down.”

“I prefer cat pictures.” She pointed at the wall where a cheesy calendar with a cat giving her thumbs-up was hanged. It took all of Marigold’s willpower not to burst into laugher at the image of Chat Noir posing for such a calendar.

“Good. Thank you.” With that, she left. This time, Rose and Juleka did not try anything. They were too terrified of her. 

Elevator took her all the way to the highest floor. When she exited, the floor was back to perfect condition and several more plants were awaiting her. She promised them silently to check on them soon and went to the main office. She knocked several times on the doors, but nobody answered. Hesitantly, she pushed the doors open, but no one was in the office. After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

----

NEXT

Mold Me New (4) – Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 4.7k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog and Taehyung have become very comfortable around each other, getting used to each other’s presence. Their bond grows even more once a ghost from the past comes back to haunt Taehyung. His natural response is growing even closer to Frog, relying on her completely for comfort and… a distraction.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Angsty themes in the second part (an “ex girlfriend” comes back, Taehyung puts up a wall, just a little). Frog starts asking herself questions about sexual attraction. There are some innuendos here and there. Taehyung receives unwanted attentions that make him deeply uncomfortable. That should be all.

The parts that look good were edited by the miraculous @joheunsaram​ (I recced one of her pieces right here in my main blog 💜)

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. Here is Tae and Frog’s music companion (spotify playlist, the playlist in case you wanna create it on other platforms)

Enjoy 💜✨

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Taehyung had become a comfortable addition to your life. He was steady and reliable — from your bi-weekly lessons, to drinks with his friends on the weekend.

Terry had extraordinarily managed to stay friends with both Jimin and Hoseok, occasionally taunting them, but overall keeping things neutral and platonic.

However, the one who was struggling with friendly, platonic feelings was you. It was difficult not to notice the way Taehyung always managed to predict your objections, your movements and your needs.

You felt a connection that made you feel weak, queasy, like clay gently sprinkled with water.

His lessons had become a secret guide to people and relationships.

The first time he had actually placed you at the wheel, helping you throw your first small bowl, he had given you the epiphany of a lifetime.

“Don’t let it dry too much. Too much water will mess it up. It will become too pliant and it won’t hold up.”

A revelation had struck you just then and there. That was it. The rule to love. You had bathed your ex husband in reassurance and affection, and just like that he had melted underneath your touch, and he had turned into nothing. And the love had run out.

“Every shape has its specific requirements,” Taehyung had explained, dipping your hands in the basin and letting the droplets fall from your fingertips. “Wet hands, but not drenched,” he had reminded you from the previous lesson. With a small nod he had invited you to press down the pedal lightly. “See, here we go. The clay will show how much water it needs. Easy on the pedal. Very slow. You’re warming it up. Be gentle. You’re not sure it’s good. Just like with people. Easy at first, and once it works you speed up,” he had smiled at the material underneath your hands.

“Gentle. Easy,” he had corrected you, his sinewy fingers gently leading your hands, recalibrating the pressure points. You had watched the greyish water stain his hands as he helped you. “That’s the secret to good things.”

In the following lesson he had taught you the importance of separation and remotion.

“It's been a few hours* what you have right there it's a leatherhard*. It's hard enough to withstand some pressure, but not ready to stand on its own,” Taehyung had shown you how to cut the bowl from the base, to turn it around and let it dry evenly.

“Still it wouldn't survive the kiln yet,” he explained. “You need all the water out. Water weakens the structure and your piece would crumble. And you would need to start anew,” Taehyung's delicate fingertips had lifted the piece, turning it around. “They're like children. One wrong move and, bam, you lose their trust and you need to earn it back, from ground zero. Yes, Frog. Just like that, easy with the pressure or you'll leave fingerprints,” he had scolded you, exhaling and closing his eyes once he noticed the damage had already been done.

You had looked at him with a sheepish grin, smiling apologetically.

What you didn't know is that he had scowled at the realisation that he simply could not keep a long face at you.

Taehyung had discovered an even weaker spot for you.

He had realised he liked you a lot.

You were quiet, observant, and incredibly intelligent.

And he liked chatting with you on your nights at the pub. And he liked your fashion sense.

He liked leaning his head against your shoulder, he was just extremely sorry he had to be half drunk to be brave enough — or to be somehow excused for the excess of clinginess.

He liked you, the cheerful and polite smile you wore while talking to Jimin and Terry indistinctly, like they had the same importance to you, no matter you had known Terry for ages and Jimin for a few weeks.

He liked the way you trapped the tip of your tongue between your lips while you focused on a piece, or the fact that once he had stopped by the bookshop, only to spot you curled up on an armchair with a fuzzy blanket on your shoulders while you read a book.

He had studied the sleepy smile you had offered him as he handed you a cup of tea that had just been brewed in Seokjin’s café. Taehyung had felt young and foolish as his smile mirrored yours. He’d wandered around the few shelves in your shop, studying a few books and asking questions about the organisation of genres on the shelves.

He asked for recommendations and chuckled as he noticed you growing increasingly chatty, disrupting your streak of quiet to passionately discuss authors and plots and publishing houses, little naive art books and detective novels and half unknown poets from entirely unknown countries.

It had been an amazing morning, with a lazy yellowy light floating in from the large windows.

After that, his visits to the bookshop had become more frequent, even stopping by during a reading date — which of course was not the two of you having a date, but rather other people coming in, mostly couples from university, to explore the shelves together, have that niche romantic academia experience, which sometimes meant that professors also came in with their husbands or wives. The loveliest of them all was the Ancient Greek professor, a seventy year old man who always came in with his wife, opening the door for her and walking around with her hand in his, usually stopping in front of the Russian section to see if they could find anything they liked. Taehyung had helped you create some artsy reading nooks that your customers truly appreciated.

The last month or so had been a blessing, for the both of you.

You both liked the steady, warm presence you could offer each other: he liked having you around because he felt less lonely, and because it was so easy to focus on you rather than the discomfort of loss; you enjoyed his respectful guidance, like a toddler still stumbling on their feet finds comfort in the parent walking right behind them; you felt free to move autonomously, but you also felt him there, never looking away in chase you needed a hand to hold. You had found a companion.

And with that many things started getting out of your control.

One in particular.

It was Tuesday afternoon and as usual the bookshop was closed. You parked your bike in Taehyung’s driveway, grabbing your tote and blushing a little as you fixed a classy, old school ribbon in your hair, covering the hair tie of your ponytail. You felt fickle and juvenile.

You felt romantic.

You felt ready to be pampered with tender guidance and soft touches, still strictly limited to your hands, always after mannered glances asking for your permission. With eager joy, you opened the door to the studio, only to notice an extra wheel beside the usual one.

And one extra person.

A woman.

Currently running her hand down Taehyung’s arm, toying with his fingers.

You blinked a couple times before you rebuilt your happy facade. “Oh, hi! Hello there!” you greeted with a smile.

Taehyung immediately took half a step away from the woman.

“Hello Frog, how are you today?”

“Happy,” you chirped in a way that had Taehyung warning immediately. He knew that kind of gleeful tone was dedicated to other circumstances — books, your friends, squealing when you managed to make a good piece. He frowned also because you weren’t one of those easily excited people.

What could have possibly made you want to show off so much happiness all at once?

“I’m glad,” he commented before noticing the extra wheel and suddenly remembering the guest.

“This is Dolly. Dolly is a fellow artist. She’s from a small town nearby. She is designing customised tableware for a resort cottage nearby. She’ll work with us today.”

You nodded, grabbing your apron — the only apron, you noticed — and got ready for the task of the day.

“Would you like to try making a plate for today?” he asked, taking out some premixed clay and preparing it on the table for you to wedge. “Or we could do some glazing while Dolly does her thing.”

“No, I could use two teachers,” you replied, trying to be inclusive, shushing all the unmotivated jealousy. How unreasonable!

“She won’t let you get away with things just because of your cute smile,” Taehyung warned, the stern reprimand sugared by the half hidden compliment.

“I almost don’t make mistakes anymore!” you complained before walking to the table, rolling up your sleeves and beginning to pat the corners of your piece of clay.

“Do you need me to do that?” he asked, feeling twice as apprehensive as usual.

“You could wedge some for me, Tae?” Dolly called, preparing a large disk and bringing it over to the table. “Please?” she cooed.

Taehyung agreed, feeling more comfortable at your side, both your foreheads growing sweaty with the warm spring weather and your arms getting sore as you worked the clay until it reached ideal plasticity.

“How was yesterday? I didn’t manage to bring you breakfast,” he mentioned almost casually as he started giving the final twists to the clay body.

“Oh, it was okay. Slow Monday. A couple teachers brought in some stuff to print. One of my parents’ friends asked me to grammar check her dissertation. I had a few books brought in for safety rebounding. Same old,” you said, sitting at the wheel and throwing the clay down. “How should I go about the plate?” you asked, looking up at Taehyung.

He was suddenly enchanted by your beauty as you looked up, a few rebellious locks escaping your hairband and making you look so unreal, so breathtaking and young.

Sometimes he forgot you were young.

Sometimes he even forgot he was young himself.

He was living the kind of fondness his grandma had always told him about, the kind of fondness she had met once sixty, ready to conclude her earthly struggles by herself. Instead, she had met an honest man, a widower who understood her past and her present.

The two had shared a quiet, tender feeling until she left. They were friends, they talked about the weather and gardening, went on walks, had picnics and went to church together. He always held her hand and kissed her forehead with a reverence Taehyung had never met.

Except for you.

He knew the only love he would never doubt was the one that accompanied his granny through her last days. He knew she passed a happy woman and that relieved him immensely.

Being the son of a single mother meant many complicated things, which included his mom moving half a continent away when he turned fourteen, chasing a man he barely knew.

He was glad he had his grandmother then, and the guys. Jimin and his family, although very complicated.

Taehyung didn’t understand the inner dynamics of relationships, and his lack of experience during high school had definitely not helped.

It’s not like he hadn’t tried, but he didn’t feel comfortable. He was always trying to learn while all the girls he had dated expected some sort of latin lover for unknown reasons — probably because of a rumour started by Jimin and Jeongguk, which had clearly, miserably failed.

All he could do was show kind devotion and gain continuous inspiration by the women in his life.

Pottery itself was an art he had learnt from his mother, who in turn had learnt from her mother. He had liked it from day one, like he had been called to it, made for it, even.

“Taetae please, could you help? I think I’m stuck,” Dolly whined, stopping to look at her attempt of dish. “What do you think?”

You tried to ignore the way her voice hurt your ears, leaving some clay aside to handbuild fruit for decoration to add later. Once done, you remodeled the amount for the plate in a round ball against your apron before throwing it a bit too aggressively on the wheel before starting to center.

“See, I’m not sure about the lip. Should i give it a wider edge or make it a bit… I don’t know. I kind of wanted it flat, with a slightly raised lip,” she pouted through her words, but you kept your focus, centering the piece flawlessly, repeating the procedure a few times, feeling the movements terribly familiar and comforting.

“It’s a good idea,” Taehyung confirmed, “a bit of a modern twist.”

“Aw, you’re so nice!” Dolly cooed, batting her lashes at him just as he turned to look at you.

“You’re still centering? All good?” he asked, noticing you stuck on holding the half dome under your palms, ready to bring it up again.

He let you go through the motion, finding himself the excuse of checking your technique only to stare at your strong but precise hands.

You went on without answering, letting the clay grow against your palms before feeling it peak and changing your grip, pushing your thumbs across and down.

“Good job, Frog,” he praised you, watching your face light up in a shy smile while you kept working the ball onto a large, thick disk.

“It’s a lot more than usual,” you commented with a sheepish grin.

“You’re doing perfect,” he reassured you. “Keep it even. Remember the ashtray-turned-jewellery plate?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Use the side of your hand. Press down harder,” he directed you. “Use your whole body, Frog. You’re handling a lot there, you need to be a bit more aggressive.”

He bit his lip before testing the waters. “Make it wetter, Frog.”

You felt yourself freeze for a second. You swallowed and dipped your dominant hand in the water.

“Don’t make it drip,” he corrected you.

“I’m gonna drench it,” you replied.

“Taetae—”

“Just a second, Dolly,” he replied absentmindedly. “Drench it, Frog.”

You obeyed.

“Gonna touch your back,” he warned you before you felt his forearms on your shoulders, pressing you down. “Use your whole weight. You need to make it to three inches. The thinner the easier.”

You felt his voice close to your ear.

“When it starts to drag, it’s too dry. Hug the side,” he rose and placed his palm against yours. “Just hold it. No pressure. Lovingly.”

“Tae—” Dolly called again.

He closed his eyes. “Just keep pressing,” he told you. “Tell me.”

“Can you help me with the lip?” Dolly asked, batting her lashes.

“First, make the base wider. Flatten it nicely, till the edge, then pinch the wall up. It will fall a little as it dries, but maybe we can find a way to secure it. If you make it short enough it should hold,” he explained professionally.

“Could you show me, please?”

He nodded. “Wait, Frog, stop there. Watch,” he commanded curtly.

You slowed down the wheel before stopping, holding your hands for a second before making sure that your piece didn’t get out of control.

“Okay,” you told him once you were ready.

“Come up here, I need you to see the details.”

You reached the two other people, Taehyung taking Dolly’s spot at the wheel. He fixed his stance before he wet his hands. Instinctively, his left palm went to hold the side while his right fingers grabbed a needle, measuring the thickness of the plate. “Just around two inches. And here it goes thicker, you see? Around three inches,” he showed, sticking the needle in.

“Did I do wrong?” Dolly asked, awfully dramatic.

“You just need to make it thinner,” he commented, already dipping a small sponge in the plate before squeezing it in the plate, still being very careful.

“Now, Dolly first used her fist — the side of it — and pulled it toward her to spread the clay lower. Repeat that several times. At least six or seven, based on the pressure you manage to apply. Then she used her fingertips, center out. Like this,” he said, showing the motion.

You felt ready to throw yourself out across the glass wall head first.

His middle finger pressed down with such firmness that you couldn’t not think of it doing very inappropriate things to your body.

You felt dumbstruck at the sudden thought, like it was some sort of exceedingly vivid dream, too realistic to actually be a dream.

“Rib next. Dolly didn’t use the rib properly here. She was too light.” He corrected the woman’s mistake, using his chest to press down, exhaling loudly as he did. “You have to go deep, Frog. Stay there. Be a bit stubborn.” He grinned. “Hold position.”

You nodded, licking your lips.

Dolly’s eyes were glowing with arousal next to you, his brow arching once he put down the rib after five minutes or so. “Wet fingers,” he reminded you, wiggling as gimey, grey water rolled down his wrists, the vision unfairly erotic for the dirt covering his hands, dripping down the hypervascular back of them, the veins of his forearms significantly thicker.

You shook your head with a grin as he wiggled his digits. “You put one inside, on the outside and press them together. Make sure you dig deep with the one on the inner side. You’ll want to press down firmly to collect all the material you’ll need for the lip. In this case, we keep pushing out, to further widen the plate and give it a short, erect lip.”

You were out of your mind, nodding just in hope to get away from torture.

“Oh, so that’s how I need to do the lip! Thank you Taetae!” Dolly exclaimed, giving you a way out.

You caught the chance immediately, sitting back at the wheel, drenching your hands before reapplying water to your piece.

“Wetter,” Taehyung called immediately.

Oh.

Your brain froze as you realised that wetter you were, indeed.

“Make a fist,” he ordered as he poured more water on your piece. “Press the side of your pinkie knuckle in the middle.”

You looked at him, crouched beside you, his mop of black hair tumbling back as his dark eyes met yours.

They hid so much longing, so much need for comfort. You read them immediately, nodding.

He placed his hand on top of yours. “Push down, Frog,” he murmured, in a way he hoped only the two of you would hear over the sound of the wheels’ engines. “Harder, lovely.”

You held your breath, his fingers and palm swallowing your fist entirely as he slipped his thumb into the hole created by your index and thumb. “Pull it towards you now,” he spoke softly. “Hard and slow, Frog,” he reminded you.

Your brain was far, far away, filled with questions about how you now found yourself comfortable about seeing Taehyung as a potential partner.

Duh. Because he knows you, dummy, the reply came instantly

Because he seemed to do everything just right for you, and when he ended up making a mistake, he seemed to know exactly how to ask for forgiveness and actually learn from his previous wrongdoings.

“Do I keep going?” you questioned, looking at him.

His face lit up slightly. “Yes, darling.” He let you go slightly after, cleaning up his hand.

You missed his guidance, but you convinced yourself you could do without.

“Slow down. Test the thickness,” he reminded you, offering the needle. “You did perfect, Frog,” he murmured with a fond grin.

“Really?” you reacted incredulously.

He confirmed, nodding as he stuck the needle along the side. “We need to work with your fingertips along the sides, here,” he showed, closing down the small puncture.

You wet your digits and placed your middle and ring finger on the center, slightly angled, letting them slide all the way to the edge as the wheel turned.

He assisted your outer hand, supporting it and showing how much pressure was needed.

“Keep going like this for a couple minutes. Make sure that it slims out. Just a few minutes—”

“Tae, do you think this is right?” Dolly asked with her squeaky voice.

His left hand grazed yours reverently as he parted from you.

Taehyung cruelly realised he was head over heels for you.

“It looks just fine to me, Dolly. I think you could give it a last test and then let it dry.”

“Yes, maybe you could give me some hands-on guidance with the next one. I could learn from a… master like you.”

You almost scoffed, giving a choked snort before you could actually control yourself.

“Uhm… I’m sure you just need to refine your timing.” Taehyung tried to evade the request.

During the rest of your lesson, you managed to throw two plates, even building a few decorations that would be added once the clay was leatherhard, in about twenty-four hours.

“I’ll add the decorations tomorrow,” Taehyung told you as you washed your hands. “Unless you want to stop by during lunch break.”

You dried your hands, thinking about his suggestion. “I think I’ll be busy tomorrow. You know, the Spring fair is soon and there’s some stuff I need to do.”

He pouted and nodded. “I’ll trim and decorate then,” he agreed. “If we’re having our Friday lesson, we can bisque them.”

You smiled and agreed.

“Maybe I can throw some plates for you and show you how to decorate while the kiln is working,” he reasoned, helping you to remove the apron once he noticed you were stuck in it.

“That would be lovely, if it’s not too much work for you!” you replied happily. You deposited the apron and caught your bag, fixing it on your shoulder. “It was a pleasure, Dolly!”

“Likewise!” she replied with a smile so sour it would have made milk curdle. “I’ll see you again!”

“Yes, for sure!” you cheered back, making your way out.

Taehyung accompanied you, almost as if you didn’t know the way. “I have a book to return,” he said, making you frown. He didn’t borrow any book from you.

“Uhm,” you started, trying to understand his intentions.

“Come in, I have it in the kitchen,” he said, leading you through the backyard.

“Taehyung,” you called, once you reached the door to his house, keeping your voice low. “Are you okay?”

He opened the door and led you through. His house was incredibly traditional compared to the way you had expected it to be.

“I’m… I just needed to check in on you. Dolly can be a very… loud… presence,” he said, grabbing a glass and a pastel pink porcelain pitcher. “Lemonade?”

You shook your head. “She is indeed very… loud.”

“I’m sorry,” he sat down and drank. He looked sad. Worried. “Are we okay, Frog?”

You stood at his side, looking at him before delicately placing your hand on his shoulder. “I’m okay, but are you? You look terrified of being in there with her.”

He placed both elbows on the table and held his head. “I’m just very tired today.”

Your hand moved to his nape, feeling the corded muscles. “Tell her you’re tired and that you’re calling it a day. I can make up an excuse for you.”

You were reminded just how much he had clung to you for the whole lesson. If she was giving him special attention, he clearly didn’t want it.

“Would you do that?” he asked, suddenly hopeful.

You frowned. “Of course?” you reacted, playfully disappointed in his lack of faith. “We can stay here. I can read, you can nap or watch the tv. We just need to make her understand it’s time to go. I’ll hide my bike and wait for you here. You’ll go in there and tell her Jimin or someone called and they need your help.”

“Are you sure you want to spend the afternoon like this? I mean, it’s your free day.”

You shrugged. Your plans were going home, getting rid of the awful tension running down your back and possibly going to the shop for some cleaning, maybe work on that dissertation… “You’re my friend. And yes, I want to help you.”

Taehyung knew that some people would have been highly disappointed by being called ‘friend’ by their crush, but that made him feel warm, like he was wrapped in a cosy comforter. “Go hide the bike,” he said, grinning like a child.

You grinned right back at him, starting down the corridor with long strides. He helped you choose a nice spot, hiding your bike between the house and the bushes tracing the outline of the garden.

After fifteen minutes or so, you heard Dolly’s annoying voice as she said something like “call me if you need help with Jiminie”, dramatically bidding Taehyung goodbye.

From the window, you watched her get inside a car in front of the house, Taehyung appearing a few minutes after. “We. Are. Free,” he panted theatrically as he flopped on the sofa, throwing his head back.

“Why did you let her come?” you asked, staring at him from your spot by the window.

“Because she’s an old friend. I met her way before she became like that,” he admitted. “I hadn’t seen her in ages. And now she’s clearly trying to get back in my life, using the commission as an excuse.” Taehyung rubbed his temples.

For half a second you wondered whether it was a good idea to ask. Would it make any difference? You realised it would. “Were you… In a relationship?”

“If for ‘relationship’ you mean ‘let’s fuck him so I can complete the friends collection’, then yes.” Taehyung propped his forearms on his knees, exhaling heavily.

You hissed, feeling slightly uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to do. “If you’d like to rest, I can go home,” you said, looking at him with cold, uncertain eyes.

He met your stare, suddenly feeling confused, scared even. He frowned and crossed his arms, trying to put some distance after he noticed his refuge turn hostile to him. “You can go,” he said, shrinking within his shoulders, trying not to show how much he feared being alone.

What he didn’t know is that you could feel the hurt in his voice and the pain in his eyes like needles sinking in your skin. You walked to him, touching his hair hesitantly, feeling wary about not receiving spoken permission.

You watched him bloom under your touch, his lungs inflating with a large inhale. He exhaled way more slowly, taking his time. “Do you want me to go?” you asked, letting your hand slide down the side of his face.

He shook his head, placing his hand atop of yours, holding it there just in case you foolishly thought he didn’t need your touch anymore. “Can you stay?”

You placed both your hands on his hair, cupping his face. “I’ll read, you take a nap.”

He watched you move your free hand away, putting down your tote and grabbing a book. He grabbed your wrist, staring at you with his dark puppy eyes. “Can you sit here? Close?”

You smiled and nodded, settling at his side before he grabbed a blanket, spread it wide and laid down, nuzzling closer, inch by inch, until you found his head on your lap.

“Can I?” he asked, adorably, his cheeks puffy and his eyes glittering vivaciously.

You smiled back at him and nodded. Fondly, you moved your book aside, watching him close his eyes contentedly as your thigh became his pillow.

After a couple pages, you almost thought he had fallen asleep already, only to realise you were mistaken once he reached for your free hand and brought it to his hair.

“Cuddle?”

You smiled even brighter, tracing the shell of his ear before starting to hand-comb his soft, dark locks.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered gently, barely holding back as you looked at his face, peacefully relaxed.

Your heart was a messy thing, but in that moment you realised that, could you have a new one, you would gift it to him and never ask for it back.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

FELICITY🦋

“She is not a painter but she drew many lines on her wrist. Slowly the red liquid flows from the lines of varying lengths. She is not afraid. Her tears were dripping on the floor.” Our lives are full of many colors. But why on some pages of my life, I cannot see any color. With so many people in this world, why do I seem to be alone? “She’s just acting!” “It’s only on her mind!” “She just wants pity!” “She only wants attention!” words I hear from them. It is just a simple mental illness for some people, but they do not know that it can cause the taking of a life.

My parents named me Felicity. It means ‘happiness’. That’s why I grew up as a happy child, they called me “Ligaya”. I have 6 siblings and I am the eldest. Five of us will go to private school and my other two siblings are still young. I am currently studying in a private school, 3rd-year College, and the course I took was Bachelor of Arts in Communication. My mother is a teacher while my father works for a well-known company.  They try their best to get us to go to a good school. But we can hardly be with them for long because they are so busy but we remain happy and in love. I mostly take care of my little siblings. As the eldest, I often did the household chores such as cooking, washing, and so on. When mama is not at work, I help her do the laundry. But it’s not always fun and abundant, the year has come that will test us and others.

 There was a pandemic that tested everyone. Many lost their jobs, businesses went bankrupt and closed, and some students did not continue their studies due to the lack of gadgets to use for online classes. My mother lost her job because not everyone was allowed to continue teaching. We were deeply affected by this news. Also, my father lost the job that our family hoped for because the company he worked for went bankrupt. So almost all the money we saved was spent little by little. My younger siblings need to transfer to a public school. We no longer know where we can get the money to earn. My mom tried to sell a lot of clothes but she was scammed and went bankrupt. That’s why we were in debt then. And there’s a lot of problems that have come to us. My third brother Mark became Covid positive and had to be taken to the hospital alone. I knew he could get through it because Mark was brave and strong like me.

 Meanwhile, we were quarantined for the safety of our family. We had almost nothing to eat so we sold everything we had just to make money. My mom lost weight because she always wondered to Mark how he was doing. I also started to lose interest in everything.  I don’t know what’s happening to me, there are nights that I suddenly cry and I always want to be in my room. My parents worry about me every day and they ask me what my problem is but I can’t answer them. I just want to be alone. I can’t do my paperwork at school anymore. I couldn’t even talk or tell them things that ran through my mind. Even my friends at school or even my siblings can’t express my feelings because I’m afraid of being judged. After all, I’m too confused. I couldn’t smile anymore, I was always in my room. On social media, I can bring out all my problems at school and home. But no one even asked me how I was? Or what is happening to me? Only my parents worry about me but I don’t want them to think about me. Add to my thoughts are people who say I’m just acting or that I just want attention. Don’t they know how I feel? There are days when I just want to commit suicide. I ask God why I need to experience all of this. Sometimes I blame God for all the things that happened to me and my family. One day, while my father was busy arranging for Mark’s belongings to be taken to the hospital, he read bad news on his cellphone that Mark was gone, my beloved brother was gone. We never saw Mark again, we only saw his ashes. My parents can’t accept what happened. They had to go to my grandpa and grandma’s house to borrow money for the bills left over from Mark’s hospitalization. I need to get out of my room and fight my thoughts and feelings to help them. While I was cooking, someone called me and said that my parents had an accident. I don’t know how I feel, I was suddenly stunned and I don’t know what to do. I immediately went to the hospital where they were and I told Joy to take care of our younger siblings. When I arrived at the hospital, the guards would not let me in because they were restrictive and needed to follow some protocol, but I needed to know what the condition of my parents was. Later, a doctor came out and I immediately talked to him. I asked him how my parents were doing. They said that they tried to save my father but it’s all too late. While my mother is comatose and needs a large amount of money for my dad’s funeral and my mom’s hospital bills. 

I feel so much pain because I don’t know what to do for my parents. I immediately went to my grandparent’s house to tell them the bad news and asked for help. I first took my siblings there so that someone would watch over them while I took care of my father’s funeral. Because of the pandemic, it is not possible to have a long hill. So my father was buried for only two days. We borrowed some money from the relatives of my dad abroad.

While I was walking to the hospital I didn’t realize that it was raining so I went to the church near the hospital. As I walked to the altar approaching Him, my tears flowed as I stared at Him and said what else we had to go through. And I couldn’t help but scream in pain “What else do you want to take from me? You took all the things that I have! You took Mark and my dad, that’s enough! ” I have lost two important people in my life and my mother is almost dying. I have approached a lot of people but none of them attempt to help us. So I had to find a job because I was afraid of losing my mother too. So I fight everything in my mind. But because of the pandemic, it’s a hard time for me to find a job, especially restricting everything because of the virus. So I just worked in the cafeteria near our house. 

My mom hasn’t woken up for almost two weeks and her hospital bill has been going up. After work, I’ll just take a look at my siblings and my grandparents. Every time I went there, my siblings ignored me because they were angry with me, they said I couldn’t do anything for mama as I was the eldest. But they don’t know how much I want to help our mother. I felt even more that I was alone in the world. While I was working in the cafeteria, my boss suddenly shouted at me because I was stunned.  I just entered the comfort room because I was so embarrassed. I saw something sharp when I was inside and I don’t know why I thought of hurting myself. As my tears flowed as well as blood dripped from my arm. I just woke up lying in the hospital. When I woke up I saw Erika, my youngest sister. I tried to get up to go to her but the nurses stopped me and said that my youngest sister was also positive for the virus as well as my sister Joy. As the nurse told me about the condition of my siblings I don’t know how I will feel. 

As I was stunned an old man approached me and spoke to me. He asked me why I tried to commit suicide. But I couldn’t answer his question because I also didn’t know the answer. He also asked me if I believed in God and I suddenly looked at him and just nodded. “If you believe that there is a God, why do you want to disappear from this world? Why would you give up? ” You know many of us only know God as our savior but most of us only know Him when we need something. But the commitment and faith in Him is nothing. They just know God but don’t have a deep relationship with him. And that is one of the reasons why we give up immediately. I saw a lot of your problems and yes it’s hard but you have to be resilient and you have to surrender everything to Him. Just wait for His great plans for you. Sometimes we tend to forget what God’s value is when we already have everything we want and at the end of the day, we will come to Him again when we don’t have those things anymore. It is important that you put your full trust in Him and that we accept Him wholeheartedly. ” As that man says all those words, my tears continue to fall, and I realize that man is right. I should not blame the Lord for what happens to me and my family today. I may lose something in my life but I know that there will come a good and new hope in my life after all. When the old man left I immediately looked up in the sky and apologized to Him. God sent that old man so that I could realize the value of life and the value of God in our lives. And since I trusted in the Lord’s plan for my life, my prayers began to be heard. My mother woke up and papa’s rich friend helped us to get mama out of the hospital. My siblings and I became negative and I already had a job and I was able to provide for our daily needs. Lastly, we live happily and we know that God is always with us, protecting us and guiding us. I am now aware that God is always in control and He always provides for our needs.

- matahom👄

June 09, 2021

Blake feels haggard, and world-weary, but a passing painter asks her to pose for her a few times and the resulting painting is a masterpiece. Blake doesn't understand how Yang sees her as anything but weather-beaten, while Yang doesn't understand Blake's inability to see her own beauty or self-worth.

I hope you know how much I adored this prompt, nonny friend!  I hope it was worth the wait.  Also posted as “sketch of hope” on Ao3!

~~~

Blake takes a drink of her tea.  It’s over-seeped and bitter, something no amount of milk or honey will fix, but it’s tea, and it’s warm going down.  Still, she squeezes more honey into the chipped ceramic mug and stirs it in.  Her eyes feel heavy, but she flips open her book once more and begins reading where she left off.  It’s something she’s read before but it’s as worn and familiar as her sweater; just what she needs right now.

Another sip of tea, her nose crinkling as she’s hit with the sour and sweet syrupy taste, but she still downs half the cup.  She would normally go to her favorite cafe, a ten minute’s walk away from her apartment, but it’s too much effort to exert right now.  Everything is too much effort right now, hell, she’s just happy she managed to leave the apartment today.   It’s something, it’s an improvement, even if this tea is awful and she wants to crawl back to her bed.

She puts her book down and sighs, rubbing her forehead.  It’s a beautiful day.  The sky is a crisp blue with fluffy clouds like cotton candy, and the spring wind is sweet with florals.  Blake is at an outdoor cafe, and it’s a beautiful day.  It’s a beautiful day, and she should be grateful.  

But she’s not, and she’s tired.  

Blake leans back in her chair, picking apart her croissant with her fingers and popping a bite in her mouth.  At least their croissants are decent.  She takes another bite, directly from the pastry this time, and casually brushes the crumbs off her sweater.  Blake scans her surroundings and the few other occupied tables at the cafe.  It’s still relatively cold, and not many are apparently wanting to brave the sharp nip of the rickety metal table and chairs.

But there’s a couple speaking in hushed tones and giggling every few minutes, even if their noses and cheeks are pink.  There’s a group of boys across the patio playing some kind of game with dice and they shout loudly every once in a while, even with the couple sending them dirty looks.  There’s another woman across from her, also sitting alone, but she is scribbling in a notebook.  

She drifts back to her tea and croissant, but the back of her neck prickles, and her ears instinctively stiffen.  Blake looks up once more, and she meets eyes of bright lilac.  Her cheeks feel hot, but she doesn’t look away, despite herself.  The other woman is blushing too, though, and she smiles sheepishly at Blake.  “Guess I should’ve known better,” the woman says.

Blake’s brow furrows.  “Pardon?” she says, more on instinct than anything else.  

The woman’s face turns a deeper red, and she gestures toward her notebook.  “I know I should’ve asked permission, but-”

“Were you drawing me?”  

The woman nods sheepishly.  “Sorry.  It’s a bad habit.  One of my old art teachers always encouraged it, said we got more natural looking sketches that way, but people don’t exactly like it.  But, well, I couldn’t help myself.  Hard habit to break, and you’re a perfect study.”

“I am?”  Blake snorts.  “Hardly.”

The woman frowns, her pink mouth curling downward.  “Well, I say you are.”  The woman hesitates before scooting closer to Blake’s chair.  “You’re not upset?”

Blake shrugs.  She doesn’t feel much beyond the heat in her cheeks and curling in her stomach, doesn’t feel much at all these days.  Her eyes drop down to the notebook before looking back up at the woman.  “I feel like there’s a compliment in there.  Somewhere.”

The woman smiles, and she looks over her shoulder before getting up and taking the seat across from Blake at her table.  Blake raises her brows, but she says nothing as the woman slides  her notebook to her.  “What do you think?” she asks.

Blake studies the dark lines, the way they curve and dance across the page in sketches and hatches.  It’s obviously just a sketch, but the word just demeans the art before her, ignores the simplistic beauty of something in progres.  The woman is talented, obviously so, but Blake still frowns.  “That’s not what I look like,” she says finally, even though it, obviously, her.  

“Maybe it’s not how you see you, but it’s how I see you,” the woman says.

Blake scoffs, but her eyes linger over the page before she forces herself to slide the notebook back.  “You don’t know me.”

“I’m a good sense of character.”  The woman closes the notebook and smiles at her, tucking a long blonde strand of her back behind her ear and underneath a purple hat the same color as her eyes, but even the electric lilac of the wool dulls in comparison to her eyes.  “Can I ask a favor?”

“You can ask whatever you want, doesn’t mean I have to answer.”

“Would you consider posing for me?”

Blake blinks.  “What?”

The woman nods brightly.  “Come to my studio, with proper lighting and stuff like that.”

“Again, what?”  Her brows knit together, and she’s not sure if she’s amused or concerned.  “I don’t know you.”  And you’re not going to want to know me.

The woman shrugs.  “Are you a serial killer?”

“No, but-”

“We can stay here if you’re more comfortable with that,” the woman presses.  “You’re just- well, you’re exactly who I’ve been looking for.”  Blake’s stomach turns, but the woman quickly adds, “I mean, just, wow, that sounds so creepy, but seriously.  You’re a delight to draw.”  The woman laughs.  “That’s not much better, is it?”

Despite herself, she smiles.  “No,” she agrees.  “It’s not.”  She considers and tilts her head, her fingers tapping against the cool metal of the table.  “If you want to, I’ll be here for a bit longer.  So do whatever you like.”

The woman’s face breaks out into a bright grin.  “Thanks!”  She laughs, scratching the back of her neck.  “I’m Yang, by the way.”  

“Blake.”  Yang extends her hand, and Blake nearly gasps when she sees Yang’s arm.  Yang’s smile fades.  Blake stumbles for her words, her tongue feeling thick and clumsy.  “That’s beautiful,” Blake says finally, taking her hand in her own.  The metal is cold in her hands, but smooth.  “I take it you designed it?”  

That warm smile returns.  “Yeah, I did,” Yang admits, and she rolls her sleeve up to her elbow.  The prosthetic is sleek, but there’s a thousand images all painted onto the metal.  Sunflowers, roses, and lilacs all creep up and over her fingers to her palms, bright and abundant, before the blooms swirl into gleaming golden scales and, finally, crackling flames.  She’s never seen anything like it, and she can’t help but stare.  “Painting with my left hand is hell, though.”

“Well, you did an amazing job,” Blake says, forcing herself to wrench her eyes away from the breathing art to meet Yang’s eyes.

“I mean, if I’m gonna be wearing it all the time, it better be, you know?”  Yang shrugs, but she opens the notebook once more.  Her pencil appears from nowhere, and Yang starts sketching, her eyes on the page.  She looks up at Blake and smiles.  “You can keep reading, if you’d like.”

And she would’ve, but instead she says, “I thought you wanted me to pose for you.”  Yang’s jaw slackens, and Blake smiles to herself.  “Tell me what to do, artiste.”  

Yang laughs.  “Pick something comfortable for you,” Yang says.  “This can be my proper warm up.”  

Blake straightens her shoulders and leans her elbow onto the table before resting her chin on her hand.  She’s staring at Yang in this position, she realizes, but Yang just smiles again and resumes sketching.  Her pencil flies across the paper, sure and steady but light, and Yang looks up at her, but it’s different.  Her eyes are appraising now, still warm, but studying her.  Studying her like she’s a piece of art, like she’s something beautiful.

“I thought you said this was your warm up,” Blake says a few minutes later.  “This looks pretty intense to me.”

Yang shrugs, still looking down at her paper.  “You speak to me,” Yang says simply.  Blake’s stomach clenches.  “Maybe I’ve found my muse in you.”

“I’ve never believed in muses.”

The corner of Yang’s lip quirks up.  She’s so quick to smile.  “Well, I do,” Yang says.  Yang checks her watch, frowns, and looks up at her, and her eyes are soft.  “I gotta go, but if you’re ever around Sixth Street, I work on thirty-eighth.  You’ll know it when you see it.  Feel free to drop by to see the finished product.”

“Alright.”  She doesn’t address the offer, just lets it sit between them as Yang packs up.  “Have a nice day, Yang.”

But Yang rips out the first drawing and hands it to her with that bright smile.  “Just so you remember how I see you, Blake.”  Yang winks, and then she’s gone.  Blake swallows hard, her eyes unexpectedly hot, and she stares at the sketch.

When she gets home, she tapes it to the wall next to her bed before burrowing back under the covers and letting oblivion take her.

~~~

Blake tells herself that the bakery on Sixth is why she’s there, that she’s had a craving for their challah bread and the bakery’s bread closer to her apartment isn’t what she’s craving.  She tells herself that, but she still takes the long way to Sixth and walks around so she’s on the higher end of stress addresses.  The apartments here are nice and made of bricks, colorful and inviting.  Perfect for Yang.

But thirty-eight takes the cake.  There’s a mural on the bricks, and it’s a collision of paint and color and wonder.  Even in the overcast day, Blake’s eyes can’t get enough of it.  She instinctively knows Yang did it, and a smile tugs at her lips before she can stop it.  

She bites her lip, but she can’t stop herself from walking up the stairs to the door.  Blake knocks, and she hears a voice within call, “One sec!”  Her heart skips a beat, and her hands bunch into fists.  This was a bad idea.  This was a very, very bad idea.

But the door opens, and Yang is there.  She’s in a tank top and paint-speckled jeans and her long blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail.  Blake weakly waves, and Yang just grins at her.  “I’m happy you’re here,” Yang says, holding the door open.  “Wanna come in?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” she says, trailing off, but she still steps through the door.  “Should I take my shoes off?”

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

Blake looks down to Yang’s bare feet and slips out of her shoes, all too aware of her pastel lemon-patterned socks.  But Yang doesn’t even give her or her feet a second glance before ducking deeper into the apartment, and Blake’s stomach clenches.  

This is a bad idea.  This is a very, very bad idea.

But she follows Yang deeper into the house, and with every step she has to stop and stare.  Art is everywhere, but she can tell it’s not just Yang’s.  There’s monochrome paintings and stunning glossy photographs and sketches done in smeared charcoal over every square inch, and Blake wonders what it must be like in Yang’s mind, what it’s like to see beauty everywhere she looks.  

Yang leads her through a small kitchenette and into the real show.  There’s canvases everywhere, leaning against the walls and blank and ready to be painted, in all sizes.  The easel is already set up with wet paint.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Blake says, biting her lip.

Yang waves her off and tosses her a bottle of water, which Blake manages to catch somehow.  “You’re not, trust me,” Yang says.  “This can wait.”  Yang takes the canvas off the easel and smiles at her.  “So, you here to pose or to see what I did with the sketches?”

“Both, I guess.”

Yang laughs and grabs a smaller canvas, carefully handing it over to her.  “Take a look.”

It’s of Blake’s hands, the paint thick and chunky but somehow creates an incredibly smooth picture despite the obvious physical texture.  Her hands seem delicate but sturdy, like Yang had snapped a photo of her in movement, acting with purpose and surety and certainty.  Her hands have been painted with light haloing around them, a soft buttery gold that warms the icy blue background.  Like she’s a saint.  Like she’s capable of being a blessing, of blessing someone.  Like she’s good.  

Her fingers hover over the smooth whirls of paint that seem to arch off the canvas and beg her to touch them, to feel what she imagines is silky soft.  But she pulls her hand back, even if she doesn’t dare wrench her gaze away.  “Beautiful,” she whispers, her throat thick.  Yang even noticed the small scar on her right ring finger from a papercut that somehow left a pale scar and the freckle on the inside of her left index finger.  

“Thank you,” Yang says, and when Blake looks up, Yang is smiling.  “But this is just the start.”  Yang takes the painting from her hands and sets it back down before gesturing Blake over to a chair by the window.  “Here, just sit down here and look up or down, your choice!”  

Blake gives her a quizzical look, but she still sits down.  Yang’s hands hover around her but don’t ever touch her, something she appreciates.  The stool isn’t the most comfortable, but she quickly settles in a position.  “Is this what you’re looking for?” she asks as Yang settles behind her canvas.  She’s looking at the feet of the easel, but when she raises her eyes she can make eye contact with Yang.  

“You’re perfect.”  

~~~

Blake comes back the next day.  And the next day.  And the next day, and the next day, until she’s been by Yang’s every day for two weeks.

“You know, I need to pay you,” Yang says suddenly one afternoon.

“What?  Why?”

“I mean, you’re spending hours sitting in the same position.  You’re providing a service, the least I can do is pay you for it.”  

Blake shakes her head, her mouth dry.  “No,” she says.  “Please, don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Yang asks, her brow furrowing.  “I mean, like, I’m pretty sure it’s unethical to not compensate you for doing this.”

Blake doesn’t say that she doesn’t have anything else to do, doesn’t say that she enjoys Yang’s quiet and loud company, doesn’t say that this is better than laying in bed and gives her a reason to shower.  Instead, she says, “I don’t need the money.”  It’s true, she doesn’t.  When she sold the publishing house, she knew she would never have to work again, but, until a few months ago, she had still worked as an editor.  Coco sometimes still texted her asking if she wanted to read manuscripts, but Blake usually gave her a noncommittal response.  “And you buy me lunch, so call it even.”

Yang snorts.  “Lunch is the least I can do,” she says, but she’s picked up her paintbrush once more and resumed.  “Let me make you dinner one night.”  Blake opens her mouth to respond, but Yang keeps going before she can.  “I make a mean lasagna, and I always make too much, so you’d be doing me the favor.”

“Are you sure?” Blake asks.  She’s barely eaten anything besides pastries and readied meals for months, and the sound of a home-cooked meal makes her stomach rumble.  

“Yeah,” Yang says.  “Least I can do.”

“It’s really not,” Blake says.  Yang raises a brow, but she keeps painting, so Blake continues.  “You’re just nice, Yang.  Not everyone is as nice as you.”

“Well, I just want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”  Yang shrugs.  “And maybe a little better than that if I can, but seriously, Blake.  I don’t know who you hang out with, but you deserve nice things, and, dare I say, good things?”  Yang winks at her.  “You’re my muse.  I think I’m allowed to give you as much as you give me.”

“I just sit here,” Blake says, but Yang is already shaking her head.

“No, Blake.  You do so much more than that.”

~~~

Yang doesn’t show her any of the finished paintings after she sees the hands, but Blake knows she’s made several.  She doesn’t mind not knowing, even if it makes her stomach twist.  She wants to know what Yang sees, even if she doesn’t understand her perspective.  How Yang can see her as anything good.

“So, uh, I have to tell you something,” Yang says one night after dinner, scratching the back of her neck.

Blake freezes up, but she nods.  “Shoot.”  She’s sick of you, she doesn’t want you, she’s done with you.

“Well, um, tomorrow is my mom’s birthday, and I won’t be around until after lunch.”

“Yeah, of course,” Blake says, her shoulders sagging.  She’s washing the dishes, which Yang always protests her doing, but she still manages to get in there before Yang can.  It’s the least she can do.  “Is your family doing anything?”

“Not really.  My, well, my mom died a couple years ago.”  Blake stills, but Yang keeps talking.  “And my sister is with my dad, but I got class in the morning, and I didn’t want to cancel.”

Blake pauses, setting the dish down on the drying rack.  “Do you want to do something?” she asks.  “Something for her?”

“Well, I usually get dinner at her old favorite restaurant here with my family or some friends, but I was thinking we can meet here and-”

“You should do that.  Go out to dinner, I mean.  Don’t- don’t feel obligated to hang out with me.”

“Obligated?” Yang repeats.  “Blake, I do this because I want to.  I want to be around you.”  Yang’s voice wavers.  “Do you not want to be around me?”

“No, I do, I just-”  Blake sighs, rubbing her forehead.  “I don’t want to be a burden for you on a day like that.  And you should see your friends.”

Yang is quiet for a moment.  “Well, maybe I am,” she says carefully.

Blake turns around.  “We’re friends?” she asks.

“Well, yeah.”  Yang shrugs.  “Unless you don’t wanna be friends, I mean.”

“No, I do!  I really do, Yang.”  She clears her throat and averts her gaze.  “How about we go out to dinner?  Celebrate her life and her wonderful daughter.”

Yang laughs, but the sound cracks briefly.  “I’d like that.”

“Then tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

~~~

“No painting today?” Blake asks, slipping off her shoes as she enters Yang’s.  Yang is wearing a jumpsuit the same color as her eyes, and there’s golden earrings cascading down onto her shoulders.  She looks fancy.  She looks good, and Blake can’t take her eyes off of her.

“Nope,” Yang says, smiling.  “I wanna show you something.”

“Alright?”

Yang leads her to the upstairs with the actual kitchen and living room, spaces she’s practically lived in for the past few months.  There’s a laptop open, which Yang silently slides to her.  Blake raises her brows, but she reads the article title, and her heart stops.

“It’s not published yet,” Yang says, the words distant.  “I wanted to surprise you but show you first.”

XIAO LONG’S ANGEL the title reads, and Blake silently scrolls through the unpublished article.  There’s pictures of paintings, and she instantly knows they’re the paintings Yang did of her.  

There’s none of her face.  Nothing that could identify her.  But there’s more of her hands, reaching and praying and receiving.  There’s her silhouette in golden light, and she seems to be breathing and moving.  There’s her bare shoulders and back, and there’s sharp golden shards of wings growing from her body.  There’s her mouth curled in a smile and soft and shining, pink and rosy.  There’s her dark hair cascading down her back as she reaches for something out of frame.

Pieces of her, and not.  This isn’t her.  She’s too broken to be this beautiful.

“Blake?” Yang asks, and that bright smile fades.  

Blake wrenches her gaze from the laptop and stares down at her hands, her eyes hot.  She’s not that, she can never be that.  “That’s not me,” she says hoarsely, her voice shaking.  “That’s not me, Yang.”

“It’s how I see you,” Yang says, her words a burning balm.  “It’s you, Blake.”

Her throat closes up.  “I’m not-”

“You are beautiful,” Yang says firmly.  “You are beautiful and kind and amazing.  And this is how I see you.”  Yang hesitates, but she hands Blake a wrapped box.  Her stomach turns, but she can’t stop herself from opening it with shaking hands.

A broken sob leaves her mouth.  It’s her eyes.  

Blake sets the canvas on the counter and closes her eyes, trying to breathe.  “You don’t know me,” she says, and her voice cracks.  “I’m not this person you see.”

Yang cups her face and leans down to look her in the eyes.  “You are,” she says.  “You are.”  Her eyes dart to her lips, and Blake’s face flushes.  “You are beautiful, and kind, and amazing,” Yang repeats.  Her mouth parts.  “And you are worthy, Blake.”  Yang thumbs away a tear on her face and smiles sadly.  “I just want you to see yourself the way I see you.”

“Yang-”  She cuts herself off with a shaky breath.  Instead of speaking, she leans into Yang’s touch.  Her hands are soft but calloused with her work, but, most importantly, they’re Yang’s hands.  “I don’t deserve you,” she whispers, but she still reaches back for Yang.

Yang smiles, and there’s tears in her lilac eyes too.  “Yes, you do.”

She isn’t sure which one of them leans forward, if one or both of them do, but Yang’s mouth is on hers, and she can’t think.  She doesn’t want to think beyond Yang.  So Blake keeps her eyes closed and kisses her back, her hands grabbing onto Yang and not letting go.

Blake doesn’t deserve Yang.  But Yang thinks she does, and maybe that can be enough.  Maybe that will be enough, and Blake can love her.  She doesn’t know, and there’s no way to know.  But for the first time in months, in almost a year, she feels hope being sketched into her chest.  

The First Stages Of Learning How To Love

❥ Drarry For the last month, Harrry had been fidgeting with a strange toy that George had given Ron in exchange for his help in the Weasleys Wizards Wheezes. It was a small, shiny object, but since no one knew what it did, Harry got to keep it. It seemed to help Harry with his nervousness- but, how could the boy who lived be nervous? After facing deathly experiences so many times? Well, the thing is; it was another kind of nervousness. It was the wave of shame that hit Harry when he noticed his crush staring back at him, or the tension when they are sitting really close and their thighs touch with each other. When someone says something funny and that person laughs big and loudly, and the poor unfortunate soul that's in love with them can't help but wish that smile was for them and only them. Yes, that kind of nervousness. And the damn butterflies came again when he spotted him entering the Great Hall. Fuck Draco Malfoy and his perfect hair, beautiful features and elegant moves. “Harry?” Hermione called his attention, it seemed like she had been speaking for the last few minutes but the boy wasn’t paying attention to her, “What’s on your mind?” Harry opened his mouth to say something but he got cut off when Ron sat next to him, big dark circles under his eyes. “I hate Potions. I hate Potions so much that if I could go back in time to kill whoever invented the subject- I would, no doubts.” Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Well, that’s what you get after you were mean to Crookshanks last night, no help coming from me.” Harry giggled a little, looking at his two friends. Not even a war could change who they were as people. “It’s a cat, Hermione.” “Well, he’s certainly smarter than you sometimes.” Ron snorted, but still smiled a little after doing it, “Thank you for that, girlfriend.” Hermione blushed, ignoring the now amused Ronald Weasley that was watching her expression with too much interest, “You were going to say something, Harry. What was it?” “Nothing important.” “Well, it has to be,,” she spoke in her most reprimanding tone possible, “Since I was talking to you about this assignment we have to do in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and it’s very important.” “For the start of the year, they are really pushing us, huh?” Harry rolled his eyes, “What is it about?” “Weren’t you paying attention to the last class?” Harry tried to remember. The only thing he retained for that class was how close Malfoy was sitting to him and that he smelled really good, like lemons and something fresh. “Not really.” “And why is that?” “Harry’s got a little crush,” claimed Ginny, who appeared out of nowhere, claiming her place next to Hermione, “It’s pretty evident.” Harry tensed and suddenly his two best friends were staring at him with suggestive looks, waiting for an answer. He couldn’t give it to them as if it were nothing- and he couldn't lie, because he was a pretty shit liar. After spending his whole life trying to save the whole wizarding world and never thinking about what he wanted, being head over heels with someone was a strange feeling. “Well, hello to you too, Ginny,” he spoke, trying to redirect the attention, “I didn’t know you were having breakfast with us today.” The girl rolled her eyes and hit playfullyt one of Harry’s arms, a smirk appearing on her lips, “Oh, c’mon, do not play the fool. I can read you like an open book.” Harry felt himself blushing, but he couldn’t deny that Ginny was in fact, saying the truth. After all, they'd known each other for so long that she often could read him better than he could read himself. Though their relationship hadn't worked out, they were still close friends. Soon after they broke up, Ginny discovered she had a crush on Luna Lovegood and time later, Harry noticed his attraction to Draco Malfoy. Ginny’s situation was a little bit easier considering she wasn’t enemies with Luna before all the stuff that happened. People wouldn’t be too shocked to see them together or if the Ravenclaw reciprocated her feelings. “So you know who is Harry’s crush, Ginny?” Asked Ron, one of his hands on his chest, “I thought we were your best friends, Harry. And you told my sister first?” Harry had wanted to slam his head against the table ever since the topic had arrived in the conversation, “I don’t have a crush,” he assured them, “And if I did I wouldn’t tell Ginny.” The girl stuck out her tongue in a mocking gesture, “Oh, but you do have a crush.” Hermione (who had been looking at Harry since he started to act more and more nervous) hit the table gently, drawing the attention to her, “Harry, if you do, you don’t have to tell us who it is...” she laughed softly, “but remember you are a terrible liar.” After she spoke, the table fell silent. Harry just wished that the earth could swallow him so he could escape the conversation, but just standing up and leaving the Great Hall when it was at its fullest looked too suspicious, and the last thing he wanted was for people to stare at him. “Fine,” he mumbled, “I do have a crush on someone, happy?” Ginny nodded furiously with the brightest grin on her face, while Hermione and Ron just seemed surprised- of course, they were acting. They were trying to make their friend feel more comfortable, but it was crystal clear they believed it before Harry said it was the truth. Harry glanced at the blond boy that was sitting alone at what used to be the Slytherin table (because now everyone could sit wherever they wanted) and thanked every spiritual being he could think of that he wasn’t looking at their table. If he did, Harry would die right there without having time to react. “So… any clues on the lucky person?” “Ginny,” Ron scolded her, “don’t make Harry more uncomfortable.” “I just think he deserves to be happy after so much shit,” she excused herself, ignoring the look Ron gave her for swearing. "I'm sorry, Harry." An apologetic smile decorated her freckled face. Harry accepted the apologies, nodding, “Don’t worry. Just… don’t make a big deal out of this. It's not like I actually have a chance, anyway.” Ron looked confused, “But you are Harry Potter! You are practically a legend! who wouldn’t like to be with you?” “The war ended. I’m just… Harry. I don’t have anything special besides this dumb scar.” Hermione took her special edition of The Ministry of Magic: A guide and smacked Harry on the head with it, making a soft thump sound. He was about to complain when she shut him off with her finger. “Harry, you’re a lot more than that. You’re amazing at Quidditch! you’re also very good at defensive spells. You’re creative, brave and a good leader.” “Yeah,” agreed Ron, “you’re also an extremely caring friend and fun company to be around, I always have fun when I’m with you.” “And in case you're feeling insecure,” Ginny was the last to say something, “You’re a very good boyfriend. Very pleasant kisses.” “Ginny!” “What? Sometimes people are insecure about their kissing skills.” Harry chuckled to hide the fact he was becoming as red as a tomato, “Thank you,” he scratched his neck, “I guess.” “Is that enough for you to feel like you have a chance?” Harry felt his stomach twist into knots again, but rather than some mere butterflies, they felt more like an elephant stampede, “Maybe.” “Good.” ─────────────────────────────────────── Two weeks later, Harry was still mulling over the conversation he'd had with his friends. They did have some good points- he wasn't that bad. And really, everything could happen. He didn't expect Ron and Hermione to be together, but they were. He also didn't expect for Ginny to get in a relationship with Luna in the two weeks that had passed, but she did. Maybe… he just had to wait for the right opportunity to take. It seemed like destiny was totally in his favour (or against him, it depends) when he collided with the person that was owning his thoughts. The one and only, Draco Malfoy. “Be more careful next time, Potter,” he said, but his voice wasn't as harsh as Harry expected it to be- it actually sounded kind of gentle “also, your wand fell.” Harry quickly put himself back together and muttered a low Thanks while picking up his wand. Draco was still standing there, watching him. Was he waiting for something? thought Harry, Maybe this the chance I have been expecting all this time. “Malfoy?” Draco arched an eyebrow, “Potter?” “Would you like to study with me for the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam?” The question that flew on the air caught Draco with his guards down. He tilted his head a little as if he was asking if that was a joke or if Harry was being serious. A long, awkward silence elapsed, and Harry was just about to apologize and run for the bathrooms to hide when Draco answered. “That would be… nice,” Draco answered, still sounding unsure, “but why me?” “Why...not?” Responded Harry, confused. Draco laughed, his head going back with it. It was the first time Harry had seen him laugh since the war, and he loved it so much he wanted to push him against the wall and steal his air in the most desperate kiss ever. “You're really funny without noticing, Potter.” Draco said while viewing outside the castle, “What do you think about working outside?” ─────────────────────────────────────── Since that day, Harry could say he and Draco were...friends, to say something. They started sitting right next to each other in all the classes they had in common, sometimes escaping the Great Hall to eat outside or going to the library to read those huge books the professors gave them. Needless to say, most of the teachers were glad that the boys had a beautiful relationship compared to how they used to treat each other before. The most fun thing to do with Draco was to sit under the big tree that grew in front of the Black Lake, working on their homework and then talking about whatever they were thinking. Sometimes Draco would rant about how funny was the fact that the only spell Harry always used was Expelliarmus, and Harry would laugh about the fact that Draco used to come to school in a suit (that he looked very good in but Harry wasn’t going to say that out loud. At least, not yet). “Seriously, Potter, why did we hate each other so much when we were younger?” Harry smiled at him, and for one second he was sure he saw Draco's face getting subtly red. “I don’t know. You were kind of annoying. I was also annoying.” Draco nodded, “True, but you had the right to be. You were new to the wizarding world and everyone was expecting you to be the greatest wizard in the whole universe. That’s a lot of pressure.” Harry kept the silence for a minute, admiring the views that Hogwarts offered. It felt like home, this school was his home- and he had to leave it after this year. Everyone felt nostalgic after spending most of your time in a place and then leaving it, but there was so much more to it. Harry lived his most life-changing experiences there, he met the people that filled his heart. He met Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Remus, Professor McGonagall… He met Draco, the boy that was sitting next to him whose hair was shining down the sunlight. “Yeah. I guess it was,” he agreed with a whisper, “But you didn’t have it easy either.” Draco looked down stiff but hummed from Harry to continue what he was saying. “I hope you don’t… blame yourself for everything that happened, Draco. Because I don’t blame you. You were a child, you just were trying to do what was best for your family and your pride. And I did the same.” When Harry realized he said Draco's name, he coughed to hide his sudden embarrassment. It came to him as something natural to say, but he didn’t know if Draco felt the same sensation.  Draco took a rock that was nearby and threw it into the lake, watching it disappear into the distance, “Thank you… Harry,” Harry grinned when hearing his name, and he was sure that now the blond boy was blushing hard because of the intimate moment they were having. Could it mean something? “Any more words of wisdom coming from you, Harry?” Harry accommodated himself better, moving a little bit closer to Draco. He didn’t try to move away, instead, he leaned a bit on Harry. Their shoulders were touching and their hands were dancing near each other, doubtful and nervous. “Can I...?” Draco nodded and that was enough for Harry to grab his hand, intertwining their fingers slowly. Draco squeezed softly as a response and they felt the wonderful emotion of knowing that something greater was about to come. They had found that place where they felt comfortable, where they felt like they fitted for the first time in so many years. It felt natural. “I...I do have more words of wisdom.” Harry broke the silence, screaming internally because he was holding hands with Draco Malfoy. “Care enough to share them?” “Somebody once told me that we've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on.” “Sounds like someone really wise told you these words.” “Yes, it was someone very wise.” Draco smiled and rested his head on Harry's shoulder, the cold breeze coming from the lake made them shiver, but it didn't matter because both of them were genuinely happy after so much suffering. After so many sacrifices, being in love or enjoying someone’s company was a silly thought. But silliness couldn’t feel better. “This is nice.” “It is…” Harry commented, his impulsive and nervous personality gaining against his composure, “I’m sorry if my hand sweats.” Draco giggled and Harry knew that he would embarrass himself a hundred times just to hear that laugh. ─────────────────────────────────────── They continued holding hands as they studied in the library or relaxed on the school grounds, far away from the prying eyes of others. Harry knew that he should know that it meant something, but Harry was too oblivious for that. He was too oblivious to know that after a whole week of meeting every day and holding hands, Draco might be expecting something more. But was he? Clearly, they had something going on, but it didn’t have a name. Harry knew from the first day that he wanted to leave everything in the past and start again his story with the Malfoy, but was Draco on the same page? sometimes he would lay down next to Harry and laugh at funny clouds, or even play with Harry’s hair when he was falling asleep after a difficult match of Quidditch. All the signals could be read as something evident- but were they ready to take another step...? “Harry!” Hermione called him, running to keep up his pace, “Merlin, you’re fast. Where are you going?” Ah, yes. Harry hadn’t talked about the crush thing with his friends since the first breakfast in the Great Hall. He was sure Ginny had seen him walking with Draco one or two times, but Ron and Hermione just received the I have things to do explanation and Harry would then leave. After one week or two, it was okay, but a whole month had almost passed and they didn’t have any idea of what Harry was doing in his free time. They respected his privacy, but it was becoming weird not to see him that much as they were used to. “I’m going to the Black Lake… why?” “Oh, great! I’m going too, I miss spending time with you.” Harry stopped walking, his hands shyly gestured to Hermione to stop too, she did, a confused expression standing out on her face. “Hermione… I would prefer to go alone, okay?” “...Are you mad at me and Ron? Because I promise you we won’t fight that much if you come back and spend time with us. We are worried about you.” Of all the things Harry expected to hear, that was the last one he thought of. Mad at his friends? He could see Hermione was troubled about the whole thing since she was acting uneasy and insecure, the total opposite of her whole persona. “What? No, I’m not mad at you or Ron.” “Really?” “Yes, really. Now…” he pulled her aside, “It’s… I should have told you before, I’m sorry.” “What's going on, Harry?” He breathed, trying to come up with a summary of everything that had happened, “Remember the conversation about my crush that we had like a month ago? well, I’m… making some progress with that person, okay? we have been meeting these days and It’s going really well.” “Oh, Harry,” Hermione left her books on the ground to jump a little and hug her friend, scaring him a little bit on the process, “I’m sorry for making assumptions. And I’m really proud you’re chasing what you want!...but Ginny told us she has seen you with Malfoy a lot.” …. “Oh.” Harry was about to turn back and run to the Black Lake when Hermione grabbed his wrist, narrowed eyes scanning Harry, “Your crush is…. Malfoy?” “Yes…..?” Answered Harry, not knowing if Hermione’s expression was good or bad, “I’m sorry if that bothers you, ’Mione.” “It’s… surprising. And I'm sure is going to take Ron by surprise too when he finds out. But people can change, and if he makes you feel happy. I’m all about it.” “You sound like a mother.” “Go to your date before I hex you,” she elbowed him playfully, “and tell….Draco, that I’m sorry for punching him a few years ago. But he deserved it.” “Yeah, he did,” Harry laughed, but nodded anyway, “I’ll tell him.” ─────────────────────────────────────── When Harry finally reached the spot where Draco was supposed to be waiting for him, he was caught by surprise when Draco wasn't there. Instead, some students were laughing under the tree, throwing rocks at the Lake. Where could have Draco gone? “Hey, Potter,” one of the guys called him, and Harry rolled his eyes because he knew he was one of the main assholes in his same year, “We were waiting for you.” “For me?” Harry looked around, noticing that everything felt a little bit...fishy, “Why?” “Oh, well,” one of the girls crossed her arms, “Rumor has it you have been spending a lot of time with Draco Malfoy.” “...What?” “We have seen you.” Certainly, Harry didn't expect them to know. He and Draco had tried everything to be subtle, just because they knew not everyone would be happy about them getting along better. But why did these people care? “Okay… And why is that any of your business?” Harry hissed, his right hand searching for his wand. “I thought after saving the whole Wizarding World you'll be smarter, Potter. He's a Death-Eater, remember?” “I remember. But he isn't one anymore.” “Once a Death-Eater always a Death-Eater,” Harry could swear he saw a strange mark sticking out the guy's arm, “Did you forget that?” “People can change.” “Yeah, I guess they can. But didn't that asshole try to kill you?” Harry snapped, “Don't call him that!” All of the group laughed, taunting their pockets for their wands. Harry didn't want to fight anymore after the war, but they were surely testing him. “Let's do this the…. muggle way, shall we? You were raised by them, maybe it's more comfortable for you.” And before Harry could distract them and run, the biggest guy in the group pounced on him, knocking them both to the ground. Harry was trying to get up, but the guy was twice his size. He didn't waste any time, smashing his fist into Harry's face. Despite the trickle of blood running from his nose, he was grateful that his glasses had fallen off his face, unbroken. The rest of the group stopped cheering when a voice a few meters again shouted: “Stupefy!” Harry managed to see Draco's silhouette casting the spell before the guy on top of him flew and fell unconscious next to him, his friends staring at his motionless body with surprise. Draco was getting closer, and with each step he took the students acted more and more anxious, deciding at the end to run in different directions to escape from the cold gaze the boy was giving them. “Are you okay… Harry?” Harry let out a small nod and got up carefully, observing how his shirt was getting stained by the blood that was dripping from his face, “I have to say, this is not the first time someone broke my nose, but yes, I'm okay.” Draco released the air he was holding and arched an eyebrow to the guy laying on the ground, falling on his back probably hurt, but he didn't care to be honest, “What an asshole.” “Couldn't agree more, but I would rather not have him in here,” Harry complained softly about the pain of his broken nose, but before healing himself he pointed his wand at the guy's chest, “Rennervate!” The guy woke up disoriented and unstable, falling to his knees when he tried to get up. His eyes followed Harry's face and then Draco's, both of them watching him with unreadable expressions, but definitely not friendly ones. And of course, when the guy noticed his friends had left him alone, he ran to the castle so fast that someone could have thought something was chasing him. Draco aimed his wand at the running student, but Harry stopped him by grabbing his wrist, denying softly “It's fine.” “It's not fine,” he mumbled, “he left you looking like a mess.” Harry laughed but instantly winced at the pain, leaning on the tree behind him to search for support, “I'm going to break a record if my nose gets broken one more time.” “You are stupid.” Draco began to walk closer to Harry, but stopped himself midways, “Can I...?” Harry looked at him confused, “Can you what...?” “Touch you,” Draco chuckled, and when Harry flushed, he added, "to heal you, dumbass." “Oh, I mean… if you want, yes.” And then Dracos free hand was grabbing Harry's face by his cheek, his other wand pointing at his nose, “Episkey,” the blood stopped dripping. “Thank you… for all of that, you know, saving me from these idiots.” “You were ready to fight back,” whispered Draco, not moving his hand even though he had finished healing the green-eyed boy, “But you didn't, why?” “I guess I was a little bit distracted when they attacked.” “But that doesn't make sense,” Draco was expecting answers, but Harry didn't seem to be paying much attention to the conversation- if the way he was looking at Draco's lips was any indication.” “Draco… Can I kiss you?” When the question came off from Harry's lips Draco let out a little yep and almost jumped back in surprise, releasing the grip he had on his wand, “What...?” Harry was already regretting his words after seeing the opposite reaction, so he quickly shook his head while moving his hands awkwardly, “I'm sorry! I don't know why I said that. Just forget it, okay? maybe I should go and get something from the kitchens-” Draco gripped Harry's wrist and asked a new question, this time sounding more confused rather than surprised, “Did you mean to say that?” “Er… Yes? I have wanted to kiss you since the first day ” Harry clarified to Draco's shock, “And every time you get close to me I get nervous and I know is dumb because we were becoming very good friends but is something that was really fucking me up and-” Draco grabbed Harry's shirt collar and pulled him into a kiss. If Harry thought he had any idea about kissing- all of them were destroyed when Draco kissed him. It was such an overwhelming feeling that he hummed into their mouths, grasping Draco's shoulders. As they deepened the kiss, Harry felt how his eyes were becoming watery at the sensation of the cold hands holding him caressing his face. He was happy. After what it was a very magical moment they both cut the kiss, breathing heavily. “Should I have asked before doing that? “Just do it next time if you don’t want me to die from a heart attack.” “Oh, so there will be a next time, Potter?” “Shut up and kiss me, Malfoy.” ───────────────────────────────────────

Slipping Through My Fingers - Four

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings: none

The bell finally rang on a glorious Friday afternoon and Elide corralled all her students, herding them into the cubby room. 

Kohana, as always, was one of the first students ready, standing next to the door silently as his proclaimed ‘bestest friend ever’ stood next to him, excitedly chattering about her weekend plans. 

Esther Corsario-Beausoleil was an adorable little girl, with sea green eyes and a cloud of coily, flaming red locks, the child to Elide’s favourite parents - Ilias, Ansel, and Rolfe. Elide had known Ansel forever and knew that they proclaimed it to be a cruel and unjust punishment to stick their kid with three last names. Ilias had gotten the pick of her first name as a consolation. Unlike one of her fathers and Kohana, she hardly ever stopped talking, but it seemed as though Kohana’s presence had a calming effect on her. 

Esther was currently explaining to Kohana that her last name, translated into the common tongue, meant ‘pirate-beautiful sun’. Esther had the cutest accent, her pronunciation of her last names immaculate. 

That had him excited as he hurriedly told her that his last name meant ‘god of the sea-saviour of the earth’. They looked very pleased with themselves and Esther managed to stop hopping around to show him how her shoes lit up. 

“Ok, friends, is everybody ready?” Elide asked, standing at the front of the line. They all nodded and took each other’s hands like she’d taught them before she led them outside. It was beautiful again today and Elide couldn’t wait to go over to Nesryn and Lysandra’s place tonight, her week - while she loved it and it had gone as smoothly as possible - had been hectic and she was ready to relax with her closest friends. 

Elide said hello to the parents and nannies, pulling some of them to the side to discuss minor issues they’d had. Somehow, she’d managed to make it through the week without a single wet pants situation and Elide thanked whatever deity had ensured that small victory for her. 

“Elide! Elide!” Elide turned, to see Esther pointing across the asphalt area to her mother, who was climbing out of a sleek red Cadillac. “C’est Maman!” 

Elide chuckled as Ansel strolled up, wearing a pair of skin tight black jeans, a black top and a burgundy leather jacket, her eyes hidden behind a pair of cat-eye sunglasses. She tossed her glossy locks over her shoulder and opened her arms, letting her daughter race towards her and launch herself into her arms. “Bon après-midi, my petite. On fait bien, oui?” Esther nodded and began to babble as Ansel propped her up on her hip and walked to Elide. “Elide, my saviour!” Oh, how Elide loved that sultry accent.

“Hey, Ansel. Esther was a joy, yet again. We made some art today, but it won’t be dry until Monday.” 

Ansel nodded and turned to Kohana, who was now standing alone, the last kid, as he waited for his dad. There was a crease between his brows as he watched with those light eyes of his. “Hi, Ko-Ko. How we doing?” 

He turned to Ansel and waved, “Hi-hi. ‘m waiting for até.” He fell silent again, wringing his hands until something crossed over his face and he was off before Elide could stop him, running as fast as his little legs would take him. Kohana didn’t get too far before Lorcan was scooping him up. 

Lorcan was smiling widely as he easily put Kohana on his shoulders and walked over to Elide and Ansel. Kohana looked pleased, his little hands holding onto Lorcan’s hair as he sat on his perch. “Hey, Ansel, Esther.” Esther waved at him vigorously and swung her legs out, trying to get her shoes to light up again. “Elide.” 

“Lorcan.” Ansel looked back and forth between them with narrowed eyes after she pushed her sunglasses up into her wine-coloured hair. Elide still couldn’t tell if it was natural or not - even after all these years - but with Esther’s red strands, she couldn’t be sure. “Kohana was a perfect student this week. I’m very impressed with his ability to tie his own shoes. He’s got the best bunny ears in the game.” She winked at Kohana, who giggled and clapped his little hands before leaning over his father’s head. 

“I tied my shoes all the days, até.” 

“Good job, Ko. You ready to go?” 

“Yep! Got say bye-bye to Essie!” Kohana sat up straight and stretched out his arm, waving bye to Esther. “Bye-bye, Essie!” 

Esther beamed and waved goodbye to him as well, “Au revoir, Ko-Ko!” 

The adults chuckled at the cuteness and all said their farewells as Lorcan strolled off. Ansel swivelled to Elide, a brow raised, “What the fuck was that?” 

“Maman! Mauvais mot,” Esther chastised her mother, frowning as she crossed her arms. 

“Just like your Aba, huh? Always tell me what to do,” Ansel teased her daughter in reference to Ilias. Elide had known Ansel when they were both in university, around the time that she met her now husbands, and Elide knew that Rolfe and Ansel were the troublemakers of the relationship. “But seriously, what was that?” 

Elide rolled her eyes, “You’re still coming tonight, right? I’ll tell you then.” 

Ansel pouted and sighed dramatically, “Oh, I suppose I can wait that long.” They laughed and soon enough, were departing as Elide headed back to her classroom. 

She puttered around, tidying up and putting the little chairs up before gathering her things. It didn’t take more than fifteen minutes and she was off, after closing the blinds and turning off the lights, heading home for the weekend. 

It was nice out again today, but Elide had still brought her car, a cute, vintage, baby-blue painted Volkswagen Bug. She rolled down the windows as she drove home, happy with the success of her first week. 

Granted, she could’ve done without the realization that she’d had a one-night stand with one of her student’s fathers, but she’d take what she could get. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Dad, where we going?” 

“We’re going to Ro’s house, kiddo.” 

“Can I bring Tigger?” 

Lorcan looked down at his son, his eyes wide as he pouted. “Sorry, Ko, you know Tigger stays at home.” 

Kohana sulked, crossing his arms tightly. “Wanna bring Tigger.” He frowned deeply, a fierce glare pointed at Lorcan as he picked the child up and locked their front door behind him, walking to the truck. Every first Friday of the month, the guys would all meet up and play poker somewhere. The level of the stakes varied, but never exceeded an ostentatious amount. 

As a bribe, Lorcan stopped at a fast food place and bought his son chicken nuggets on his way to Rowan’s, smiling in the rearview as Kohana happily munched on his dinner and kicked his legs out. Soon enough, they pulled up in front of Rowan’s townhouse and hopped out of the truck. 

Kohana raced to the door and pressed incessantly on Rowan’s doorbell until the silver-haired man yanked the door open, assuming it was Lorcan doing it to annoy him. Upon seeing Kohana, he grinned and picked the little one up, tickling his sides until he was squirming away. “No! No more!” 

“Boyo just devoured ten chicken nuggets, don’t blame me when he barfs on you,” Lorcan said dryly, laughing as Rowan made a nervous face and put Kohana down. He pushed past Rowan’s legs and raced into the house, roaring his arrival. 

“So how’s the teacher?” 

Lorcan groaned, “Fen told you?” 

“Literally the second after you told him.” 

“Fucking Marama,” Lorcan muttered, putting down Kohana’s backpack of toys and books. 

“Someone say my name?” Fenrys yelled as he popped out from behind the corner and Lorcan shouted. 

“Hellas below, man, can you not? I hate it when you do that.” Fenrys cackled and Lorcan wondered how on earth did he convince Nehemia to marry him. They all walked into the kitchen and sat at the table, with Kohana as their dealer. 

They didn’t fuck around after their greetings and got right into the game. At some point, Connall had fished out the old visor with DEALER stamped across it and plopped it on Kohana’s head. 

The five-year old took his job very seriously, his brows furrowed as he carefully passed out the correct amount of cards. “Juice, please.” 

After he’d gotten his juice box, the game was back on. Fenrys looked at Lorcan and wiggled his brows in a way that Lorcan did not like. “So, Man-Man,” Kohana looked up from the chips he was carefully stacking, sitting atop a pile of books so that he could see the entire table. “How’s school going? You like your teacher?” 

“Fenrys-” 

“Teacher is nice. Like her. She read stories and paint and draw and play outside with us. Did you know I gots a bestest friend, Fenny?” 

“What? I thought I was your bestest friend, Ko!” Fenrys exclaimed, holding a hand to his heart like he was wounded. “What’s your bestest friend like?” 

“Very loud. Essie talks a lot,” Kohana said, moving on to the blue chips. “She gots shoes that light up too.” 

“She seems like a nice friend,” Vaughan said, smiling fondly at his nephew. “Do you have light up shoes, Fenny?” Fenrys, mindful of the child sitting in full view, stuck his tongue out at Vaughan, making Kohana giggle. 

“Essie has two daddies and one mommy.” 

Lorcan elaborated, “She’s Corsario’s kid.” 

“Oh dang really?” Connall asked, his brows lifting. “Ay, didn’t he marry Ilias and Ansel?” 

“Yeah, they were in that prenatal class with us,” Lorcan said, focusing on his cards. 

“That is a brave man.” 

“What’dya mean?” 

“Marrying Rolfe and Ansel? I’m surprised he hasn’t had a heart attack yet.” 

They all chuckled and soon enough, the game recommenced, at the behest of the dealer. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“I got to say, El, Esther’s so happy she gets to call you by your first name.” Ansel rolled her eyes, “She had the most ridiculous daycare leader ever who made the kids learn the ‘proper’ way to address adults.” 

“They’re kids! Some of them haven’t even turned five yet, for fuck’s sake. If all we’re doing is learning our numbers and ABCs, then they definitely do not have to ‘address’ me like that. Certainly not if I’m teaching them to treat others how they want to be treated,” Elide said, helping Lysandra in the kitchen by washing a head of lettuce.

Ansel nodded her agreement and a wicked gleam entered her eyes as Elide started tearing up the green leaves. “So… how much more drunk do you have to be to spill that hot drama you’ve been sitting pretty on, with your cute lil ass?”  

Elide groaned and flicked Ansel’s nose, “Dude… can you be chill? For once?” 

“Spill? Spill what?” Aelin asked, popping into the kitchen. 

“Oh, am I finally going to figure out why you were being so weird on Saturday?” That was Nehemia, walking into the kitchen with Nesryn. Lysandra was already there, cutting something up for whatever dinner they were having. 

Elide groaned in defeat and hit her head on the countertop. “I slept with my student’s dad.” 

“What?” 

She lifted her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, “The guy from Friday night is the father of one of my students.” 

They gawked at her, utterly silent until Ansel gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Mon dieu, it’s Lorcan, right? Am I right?” 

“Mm-hmm. Yup.” 

Aelin, Ansel, and Nehemia cackled as Lysandra gave her a sympathetic look and hugged her. “I’m sorry, honey. That doesn’t sound fun.” 

Elide pouted and whined, “It’s so bad! I thought he was stalking me or something when he showed up!” A thought crossed her mind and she swore, “Anneith below, it’s gonna be so awkward at parent-teacher conferences!” 

“How?” 

“Well, I think he’s divorced and they have joint custody? Anyway, we’ve barely said more than two sentences to each other and I can’t even look him in the eye. The mother is going to have to be brain-dead-” 

Ansel sucked in a breath, all the humour in her face disappearing. “El… can I talk to you quickly?” 

They all exchanged weird looks as Elide slipped off her stool and followed Ansel to the backyard. The red-haired woman was pacing, biting her thumbnail. “Ans, what is it?” 

“Kohana’s mom died four years ago. She got sick and they didn’t find anything wrong until it was too late.” 

“Oh my gods. Are you serious?” 

Ansel nodded, her eyes conflicted. “Yeah. I figured you knew already. She and Lorcan had been together for years, highschool sweethearts.” 

Elide felt her heart drop and she couldn’t find the words to process anything. She knew what it was like to lose her parents at a young age and suddenly it all made sense. Kohana’s wariness to make friends outside of Esther, waiting anxiously for his dad to show up at pickup, lingering by Lorcan at dropoff. “Poor Kohana. Poor Lorcan. Shit.” 

Ansel winced and nodded, “I wouldn’t mention it to him until he brings it up. Losing her like that… no one should have to live through that. Especially with a kid.” 

Elide nodded, her mind reeling. Somehow, this mess became even messier. She wasn’t sure how it had done that. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Fenrys was having a no-blinking contest with Kohana when his phone buzzed. The five-year old smirked, the little shit had the audacity to smirk at him, his gaze piercing and wide open. “Do you needs a break?” 

Man, fuck him and his stupid grammar, Fenrys said to himself as he nodded and Kohana blinked, taking a bite of his mini Babybel. His hands were barely big enough to hold it in one. The golden-haired man had never wanted to throttle anyone more. 

He stepped away from the table and took out his phone, smiling at the image of his wife that lit up the screen. He accepted the call, “Hey, Mi. What’s up?” 

“Hi, babe, um… did Lorcan tell you that…?”

“Oh, Ko’s teacher? Yeah, he told me.” He paused, checking that everyone was busy doing something. “What about it?” 

Nehemia breathed out slowly, “She’s Aelin’s sister. Elide.” 

“Oh fuck.” 

A little voice gasped from behind him and Fenrys turned, seeing Kohana clap his hands over his ears. Bless that kid and his innocence. “Mi, I gotta go. Let’s talk more at home, ok?” 

“Ok. Love you, Fen.” 

“Love you too.” 

Kohana’s eyes were wide and he whispered, “You said a bad word, Fenny.” 

Fenrys stuffed his phone back into his pocket and quickly lifted Kohana up, carrying him to the kitchen. “I know, Man-Man. But guess what?” 

“What?” 

“If you keep it a secret and don’t tell your daddy, I’ll give you ice cream. Deal?” 

Kohana’s vehement nod was answer enough for Fenrys.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: Até means father in Lakota :) and it’s gonna be a lil slow for now, ok? but don’t worry, the drama is coming 👀

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @superspiritfestival @empress-ofbloodshed @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @beccasophia95 @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thewayshedreamed @hizqueen4life @ifinallygavein @bat-wing-rhys @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm​

Sirius Black’s Day Off

author’s note: this is a collab of 80′s movies with the lovely @probably-peeves@thegrxywitch @flymyhp @quadrupledeckertaco @shaynawrites23 please go check out what they wrote for this!

word count: 2.6k~

summary: imagine ferris bueller’s day off.... but with sirius!

****

"Rise and shine beautiful!" Sirius sprang up, flinging my curtains open. The reddish gold morning sun greeted me. In my opinion, it seemed angry and pushy but many might call it 'gentle' and 'beautiful' I knew better.

"No," I grunted. I placed the pillow over my face to block out the sun, and Sirius's loud announcements. Who really knew what he was up to?

"That's the spirit, now I'm going to transfigure some nice yellow warts on your face and you have to cough occasionally. Okay?" Sirius continued bounding around the room before finally leaping onto my bed and planting a kiss across my cheek. I tried to shove him off, but my morning fog finally cleared enough to let me remember why I loved Sirius: it was an adventure every day with him.

"Fine,"I sat up rubbing my eyes, and gave Sirius a morning kiss. "Good morning," He leaped off of the bed, happy to have completed a succesful mission.

"Fantastic! So I'll transfigure us both to-"

"No," I said again, thinking a bit about this plan. Whatever it led to, we certainly would not be taken siriously if we both showed up to Madam Pomfrey with a bizarre illness at the same time. "We need to go in separately or she'll get suspicious."

Sirius nodded, considering.

"You're right!"

"I always am, love," I winked as I pulled on my comfiest trackies. "So are you going to take me to breakfast if you got me up this early?" With a cough, Sirius fell dramatically on to my bed.

"I can't, I'm sick!" he cried, practicing his fake illness.

"Breakfast in bed it is then!" I decided, as I summoned a house elf. Over jammy toast and Beatles tunes, Sirius explained his idea.

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." He began. Of course this was going to be a dramatic monologue. When wasn't it with Sirius? I brushed the toast crumbs from my lips as he spoke, excited to here the rest of the plan. "And so, today we are going...." He paused and appeared to be doing some difficult mental math.

"Actually, it would be quicker for me to say where we aren't going!"

"How are we doing this with classes though?" I frowned. Clearly Sirius had banked on me asking this question, and he began to preform various charms which were set to give me an extremely ill appearance in the first class of the day.

"I am excused from class due to a death in the family." He said much to happily, and I recalled that one of his pure-blood supremacist great-aunts had died recently.

"Sorry for your loss?" I said trying to hold back giggles at his jubilant behaviour.

"Don't be!" He shrugged, "Anyways, you'll be sick. And we'll call Remus out with some message from a teacher once I pick you up!"

"Remus is okay with this?" I was incredibly confused now. Typically Remus steered far away from anything which would cause him to miss classes due to his... unique.. schedule.

"Once he knows I'm sure he will be!"

"Famous last words my love, famous last words."

****

Midway through charms, I noticed a couple of strange glances coming my way. I paused my readings about The Art of Life in Inanimate Objects and looked around for anything that was causing these looks.

I quickly figured it out as I realised multicolored spots were popping up all over my arms, and I realised slight puffs of steam were currently exiting my ears. Godric Sirius. Madam Pomfrey was going to have some issues with that one.

"Professor Flitwick?" I raised my hand and waited a moment for him to notice.

"Yes Ms. y/n!" He responded in concern.

"I think I need to see Madam Pomfrey,"

"Yes, right away!" He agreed in his high pitched voice. I raced into the hall with my bag and bumped into Sirius straight away. He pulled me into the nearest secret passage way.

"Oh bloody merlin, my charms actually did work!" Sirius exclaimed, sounding extremely surprised at their success.

"How do we make them un-work?" I begged, uncomfortable at the site of pulsing pustules that were spotting my arms.

"I don't know y/n I think the multicolored look kind of suits you!" He smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine." I crossed my arms. "But no kisses until I'm back to normal," I challenged smugly. A horrified look crossed Sirius's face, and he quickly got out his wand. After a few muttered spells, I was good as new.

"Thank you darling," I kissed his cheek softly before stepping into the corridor. He blushed and quickly followed me. Pulling out a piece of scrap parchment, aka the Marauder's map, we expertly dodged Filch on our way to  Remus's classroom.

"You go in," Sirius suggested, quickly forging a note if needed. Given it was the arithmancy teacher, I was sure it wouldn't matter. She was usually too focused on the topic to break away from it.

"Pardon me?" I knocked lightly on the door as I came in. "Professor Binns requested I borrow Remus for a while, he needs quite a lot of help with something." I carefully laid the foundation for a long absence to be suspected of Remus. He was currently eyeing me suspiciously, no doubt seeing right through my preformance. I threw him a wink and he simply rolled his eyes.

As we got into the hall he checked his suspicion.

"So, I'm guessing Professor Binns doesn't need my help?"

"Ah, you are smart!" I said in feigned surprise. Remus's lips twitched, nearly smiling.

"And where's Sirius?"

"Proving your smarts again!" I teased. "He's right round this corner, in the Hogsmeade secret passage." I whispered and tugged Remus into the hidden tunnel. That was where our adventure truly began. Huddled between the stoney walls of yet another secret passage.

"So!" Sirius clapped his hands together softly, before letting one hand fall down to hold mine. "Where do you guys want to go today?" I looked at him in amazement, as I had thought we'd be going to Hogsmeade at most.

"We're leaving Hogsmeade area?" I clarified. I glanced at Remus, and saw he shared my expression of shock. Sirius nodded with a glow of glee in his eyes.

"That we are!" He announced dramatically. I giggled while hushing him, sure that Filch would somehow here through the stone wall. Remus shrugged, unsure of where on earth he'd like to go.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, suddenly remembering one of the wizarding villages I'd heard about. "What about Pitlochry?" The small scottish town actually had a thriving wizarding community living right under it's very nose. It's actually where the famous wizard, Michael Scot, spent many years.

Remus's eyes lit up "Oh yes! Let's go there!" He agreed, eager to see what is said to be a beautiful town. Sirius was ecstatic, and jumped at the idea as well.

“Well?” Remus asked, trying to sound slightly bored with the lack of adventure he’d been forced to miss class for so far.

“Well what?” Sirius asked, glancing up from the Marauder's map he had been studying while we discussed where exactly to visit.

“Well how are we getting there dummy?” I grinned with a hint of mischief.

“Hey! You’re my girlfriend, you don’t get to call me dummy!” Sirius yelled indignantly.

“On the contrary darling, it’s one of my special privileges!” I smirked. “Like this!” I gave him a quick peck on the lips, and then raced raced down the passage with a smirk.

"We could apparate?" Remus suggested, but I shook my head slightly. Despite passing my test, I freaked out about trying it with anything farther than a couple of feet away.

"Perhaps use the Floo?" I thought out loud, hoping this would be the chosen idea.

"Or," Sirius began with a gleam in his eye, "We could use my motorbike." Sirius's cherry red motorbike had been bought last summer, and was currently stored in Hogsmeade. It was practically begging to be used. There was just one little snag:

"It's not like it flies or something," Remus shook his head with a small smile. "It would take ages to get to Pitlochry on it!" Sirius's smile grew all the wider. I could practically predict what he was about to say, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to believe it.

"Ah, but my friend, it does fly!" He exclaimed triumphantly. My eyes must have been boggling out of my head, because I simply could not believe it. For some reason it was perfectly logical that magic could give me pulsing polka dots all over my skin, but complete unbelievable that it could make a motorcycle fly.

****

"Wheeee!" I shouted gleefully as we soared through the clouds. Remus also looked like he was loving it, especially since he got the beautiful view out of the side car. He laughed along, as Sirius grinned proudly. As we began our descent, I wrapped my hands slightly tighter around Sirius's waist.

"Be careful!" I gasped as we pointed towards the ground. It was fairly terrifying to be staring straight down to the ground. I pressed my forehead against Sirius's back.

"Alright love?" He turned slightly, a note of concern in his voice.

"Yep," I squeaked while taking a few deep breaths. I was a Gryffindor. I was brave. I was completely fine with being a few thousand feet off of the ground.

****

After many impromptu loop de loops, we finally landed in Pitlochry. My feet sunk into the soft snow, and I felt more grateful than I’d ever admit to be back on the ground again.

“Where to first?” Sirius clapped his mittened hands together in anticipation.

“The museum!” Remus suggested straight away. I nodded, thinking it would be fascinating to learn more about Michael Scot.

The museum was filled with fascinating Latin texts, of which a few had been transcribed into modern English. I perused these before following Sirius into the next part of the museum.

Remus stayed outside once he caught a glimpse of the starry sky. I patted his back gently, attempting a comforting action, before I went in.

The room was a doom filled with a moving mural of the night sky. The only difference was that it had been painted here directly by Michael Scot during his time studying astrology.

“That’s you!” I pointed up to the star Sirius as I took the real Sirius’s hand. “I think I like you better as a star,” I joked, leaning on his shoulder.

“Well you get the best of both worlds here then, because I’m a star as well as me!” He responded, overestimating his rockstar career for a moment.

“You’re my star,” I smiled softly towards him, and we walked back to Remus. I caught Sirius redden slightly before grinning.

****

On our path back to the main wizarding village (hidden from the view of muggle Pitlochry), we came across a small scrimmage of community quidditch. After preforming a few warming charms, we stood and cheered for each of the teams.

"Here snitch-y snitch," Sirius started to call, as if attempting to make a dog come to him. I grinned and joined in,

"Who's a good snitch?" I shouted, and surprisingly, the snitch seemed to respond. It veered towards us and whizzed right over the head of a chaser into the hands of Sirius.

An astonished look filled his face, and both the teams swooped over to congratulate him. After a series of pats on the back and handshakes, we finally excused ourselves and continued our walk to the main village.

We spent the rest of the morning wandering through various shops filled with owls, and potions, and parchment until eventually all of our hands were a bit too similar to ice blocks.

****

“Shall we duck in here?” Remus nodded towards the busy restaurant.

“M’lady,” Sirius bowed and opened the door for me. I giggled and passed elegantly through the door frame.

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug of Butterbeer, and breathed in the sweet, ginger scent. The band was playing a recent Weird Sisters release, and I tapped my toe to the beat.

As the chill wore off, I relaxed into Sirius’s arm which he had wrapped around my shoulders.

“What’s next?” I asked eagerly.

“Going back to Hogwarts?” Remus begged in a tired voice.

“Oh come on! You’ve had a great time Moony!” Sirius slugged his arm, with friendly affection of course.

“I have,” Remus admitted with a sly grin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not concerned about our grades!” I did see his point, it was NEWTs year. But a little break never hurt anyone!

“Please Moony, your grades are of the least concern. You probably have three O’s and an E or something,” Sirius waved his hand, brushing away Remus’s concerns. Remus looked down bashfully, telling me that Sirius had guessed nearly right.

“Plus Slughorn’s been a real dragon in potions lately,” I recalled the terribly involved animagus potion we had to create last class. Fortunately I was paired with Sirius, which made it ten times easier.

"Fine! Get outta here Abe!" Our cheerful banter was interrupted by the shouts of the lead guitarist of the band that had been playing during our lunch. It would seem that the lead singer had quit for some reason unknown to us. The two other band mates looked shattered, despite their previously amazing performance.

I nudged Sirius. Of all the people I could think of that might be able to help this situation, he was the best fit.

"You should go up there!" I encouraged him. I saw a rare flicker of doubt cross his eyes, but with a friendly smile from Remus and I, he seemed to gather his courage.

"Yeah," Remus nodded enthusiastically.

"I promise to remember you both when I'm famous," Sirius shot us both a winning grin before heading up to the stage. We watched him whisper to the abandoned band members for a moment, who eventually looked enthusiastic.

We heard the energized strumming of a few opening chords, and Remus and I began to tap our toes in time. The song seemed to ring a bill, but I wasn't entirely sure where I'd heard it.

"Well, shake it up, baby, now!" Sirius began to sing. I grinned, realising it was the exact song we had eaten our breakfast to. Pausing to listen for a line or two, I saw how the energy of the quiet pub room changed. Gradually, it came alive. Sirius's energy was contagious. He nodded up to him, and I ran up.

"You know you look so good," He winked, grabbing my hand and giving me a quick spin. As I spun around, I noticed Remus inviting another girl close to our age to dance. And I spied an elderly couple doing a small shuffle together. Something about this tune just brought people together!

After pulling out my finest dance moves alongside a singing Sirius, I collapsed back into my seat and chugged the rest of my butterbeer.

"Merlin," I grinned with a bubbly happiness towards Remus. He grinned eagerly back.

"Don't tell Sirius," He teased, "But I have actually had a fun time today." He admitted slyly.

"I'm glad," I nodded. "I have to hand it to Sirius that this was a pretty fantastic day off."

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 2, Ch. 6

PART 2: THE YEAR OF MISCHIEF AND SNEAKING AROUND Chapter 6 - Transfiguration, My Love

Nova

While Charlie and I were still making out the final details of our plan, Tonks was proud to say that their vengeful plan against Filch was executed perfectly and surprisingly, almost went according to plan.

Besides a few minor details, such as the fact that Tulip couldn't find Peeves anywhere on the day of the prank as he decided to pull a little prank on them too when she went to find him the previous day. He thought it was funny if he hides and makes them nervous, thinking that he won't do a mess for Filch.

Also, Penny apparently isn't as innocent-looking to Filch as she is to Tonks. Just saying the Poltergeist's name, Filch suspected her of something and she needed full 15 minutes to convince him that she's not lying and that Peeves is making a mess on the Second Floor. He questioned her about where exactly on the Second Floor and what exactly is he doing.

Then, he wanted to send Mrs. Norris to investigate before leaving the vicinity of his office. And then he made her tell him the whole thing again just to see if there was a plot hole in her story.

When he finally left to go see what was going on, Tonks was so nervous that she failed to cast Alohamora twice before opening the office and thank Merlin that Penny took the box inside and placed it down as Tonks was so out of it by the time she unlocked Filch's Office that she knocked down the first thing standing in it. Not only did they have to put everything back in place, but they also had to be careful around the Dungbomb.

They locked his office and left unnoticed as they joined us for breakfast in the Great Hall. Tonks even went an extra mile by yawning and telling rather loudly, something she was good at, that she just woke up and couldn't believe she almost missed breakfast.

Even though Charlie and I weren't part of their plan we had fun as observers as it was very amusing just how nervous they were waiting to see if the plan was going to work. They, however, didn't have to wait long, as a Gryffindor First Year came to the teacher's table and whispered something to McGonagall, that whispered something to the Headmaster, who for a second looked like he was amused and then McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick hurried out of the Great Hall.

A lot of students followed and as we didn't want to look suspicious we joined the crowd. To Tonks', Penny's, and Tulip's delight it led us straight to Filch's Office which was now surrounded with the same stench as the Dungeons a couple of days ago.

As we couldn't keep a straight face and Snape shot us some suspicious looks, we decided to go to the Courtyard and laugh it out there and congratulate them on their big success.

Charlie and I also decided to tell them about our plan. To our surprise, everyone was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas as they wanted to spend time with us as much as we wanted to spend time with them, which was one less problem for us to solve. Now we just had to convince Molly that Charlie can stay and perhaps if all of our friends would be with us, Bill wouldn't have to spend Christmas at Hogwarts if he doesn't want to. We'll see how it goes!

—

So far the classes are not as hard as I thought they would be. History of Magic is still boring and Snape still breathes behind our necks in Potions, other than that lessons are quite nice.

We finally started practical lessons in Defence Against the Dark Arts and I am very proud to say that Charlie and I are on top of the class. Charms are going fantastic, even though this new one, Episkey, was giving me some problems as I couldn't seem to get it 100% correctly.

I did talk it over with Professor Flitwick and he suggested for me to practice at the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey and he reassured me that since other spells are going good for me that this one shouldn't be such a big problem.

Wanting to stay on top of my class in Charms, I went to Madam Pomfrey the very next day where she kindly presented me with a dummy on which I could practice. It took me 3 full days to cast the spell correctly and as Madam Pomfrey said, apparently I didn't put enough willpower into it and I was too frightened of the side effects the spell can bring once performed on a real person.

Charlie even offered to break his nose so that I could mend it but as much as I appreciated his braveness and generosity, I refused as I don't want to see any blood on those cute freckles of his.

Transfiguration was by far my favorite subject. Not only because I did so well but because I sat with Charlie. We always had so much fun and when we had to work in pairs we were a perfect match. Just last week we had to do a little project outside of class. At first, I thought that I would have to do everything on my own but I have to say that I have never seen Charlie work harder at something and it showed on the spell we had to imagine for two inanimate objects.

So much so that McGonagall gave 15 points to Gryffindor. He was never so proud of himself and he had all the right to be.

—

I woke up earlier than usual one day in the first week of December. I looked through the window to admire our beautiful view only to get a pleasant surprise of snow. Last year, the snow didn't fall until Christmas Eve and I was glad it was so early this year as I couldn't wait to have a snowball fight with all of my friends.

As Tulip was still sleeping I decided to take my books and go to the Great Hall to do my Potions homework. Of course, I was hoping that Penny was already there so that she could help me with it. Unfortunately, she was not but I decided that for once, I should at least try to do it on my own. Pip came to greet me, while I was eating toast and was halfway through my Potions essay, which was looking rather good.

He had a letter for me. It was from my mum and she was asking about my plans for Christmas as she was quite busy and wasn't very optimistic about her or dad getting time off. She just didn't want me to be alone and was wondering if she should write to Molly so that I could spend Christmas with the Weasleys. She ended her letter by making sure I say hello to all my friends.

As much as I appreciated that and hoped that one time during my Hogwarts years I would be able to spend Christmas at the Burrow I wanted to sneak into the Forbidden Forest with Charlie for this one. I wrote back to my mum immediately, Pip nibbling on my hair.

Mum,

All of my friends are staying at Hogwarts this year. Charlie isn't 100% sure yet but we all decided to stay as we couldn't spend Christmas together last year. Don't worry that you and dad have to work. I will send you presents on Christmas Eve, as I already have something prepared. And I think Tonks would be very disappointed if we couldn't have all the snowball fights since it started snowing today.

Say hi to dad when you send him an owl!

Love and lots of hugs,

Nova

I folded the piece of paper, put it in an envelope, and gave it to Pip. He was rather busy these past few weeks as both Tulip and Tonks asked if they could borrow him. Pip, of course, was delighted to do their bidding.

Tulip, Penny, and Tonks soon joined me for breakfast and not much to my surprise did I have to correct Tulip's Transfiguration homework as it happened almost every week that she left it until the very last day. I couldn't help but wonder if she was doing it on purpose.

After breakfast, Tulip and I headed to the Transfiguration classroom. I spotted my freckled, redhead best friend immediately. He was as sleepy as in every Thursday Transfiguration class as we had it what he called it 'too early in the morning'.

“Hi, Nova. How did you sleep?” He asked before he started snoozing on my shoulder.

“Not bad and good morning to you too, Mr. Messy Hair.” I giggled and ruffled his hair. I was beginning to see why Bill liked to do it so much. His hair was soft and thick and it always stood as you placed it. As you can imagine, Charlie had some weird hairdos whenever he was snoozing or napping while having breakfast with us.

Professor McGonagall walked into the classroom, shutting the door behind her rather loudly to announce her presence and the whole class went silent.

“Today, we are going to learn a new spell. We are going to transform this porcupine into a pincushion.” She pointed at the porcupine on her table with her wand. “Now, can anyone tell me why this spell could be useful?”

A Gryffindor girl with short brown hair raised her hand and answered the question. I nudged Charlie a little, as McGonagall was not giving him the nicest of looks. He raised his head and yawned.

“What did I miss?” He looked at me, hand still on his mouth. “You just lost Gryffindor 20 points.” I said with a serious expression on my face.

“What? No! What did I do wrong?” He looked at Professor McGonagall who was now at the back of the class and didn't pay any attention to him at all.

“You drooled all over my jumper.” I chuckled.

“She didn't really take points from my House, did she?” He rolled his eyes and poked me in my shoulder with his finger.

“You will each get a pincushion and a porcupine per table. I want you to take a good look at them both and observe the details on the pincushion and memorize them to most of your ability.”

“I don't understand, when will I ever have to transform a porcupine into a pin cushion while working with Dragons.” Charlie was turning the pincushion in his hand while supporting his head with the other one.

“You do realize we are only doing all of these spells to get us familiarized with Transfiguration and how it all works, right?” I chuckled and took the pincushion from his hand.

“Now, I want you to look at your porcupine, say Hystrifors, gently tap on the animal and envision a pincushion in your head.” McGonagall said.

“Yeah, because I have nothing better to think about.” Charlie pulled out his wand.

“You were wondering why we were taking a few lessons to befriend the animal. It is easier to cast the spell if the animate object trusts you. The better the relationship the easier the spell. That is why most new spells created for animate to inanimate transfiguration is usually practiced on pets.” She walked to her desk, looked at the porcupine with narrowed eyes, and said Hystrifors. It turned into a perfect pin cushion in a second.

I have to give it to Charlie as he didn't do such a bad job considering he was half asleep until 20 minutes ago. He managed to transform his porcupine into a pincushion. It wasn't perfect as the pins weren't real pins but porcupine spikes but it was pretty good for his first try.

Professor McGonagall came to our table. “5 points to Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. Not bad for your first time.” She then turned to me as I was about to cast the spell.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, looked at the porcupine who already started to form into a pin cushion in my mind, and said Hystriforsas I gently tapped on the animal with my wand. It turned into a pincushion, all pins perfectly transformed as they have to be.

Charlie clapped and I looked at McGonagall who was smiling, observing my successful spellwork. A few seconds later the bell rang and I got up and put my books in my bag. I was ready to follow Charlie out of the classroom when McGonagall called for me.

“Miss Blackwood, a moment if I may.” I nodded to Charlie that he should go ahead.

“I'll wait outside.” He whispered.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall?” I turned to her and started walking towards her desk.

“Miss Blackwood, last year we started to discuss Advanced Transfiguration lessons. I don't know if you've noticed but I have been paying extra attention to you this year to see if your talent from last year continues.” Of course, I noticed, I was waiting for this conversation since 1st September!

“Are you still interested in Advanced Transfiguration?” She gave out a little smile.

“Of course, Professor. I would be honored.” I said humbly.

“That settles it then. I will send you an owl with your new schedule and we can begin after the Christmas holidays.” Her face content with my decision. “That would be all, Miss Blackwood.”

I thanked her again, nodded, and walked out of the classroom. As promised, Charlie was waiting for me outside and when he saw the look on my face, he knew exactly what McGonagall asked me to stay behind for.

For ace asks, what do you think asexuality means? To you personally?

I wanted this save this ask for the last day of ace week, but also because I wasn’t really sure how to answer this. But I guess the only way to answer this is by giving you a little story about how accepting my asexuality actually helped me become a better person for myself.

I didn’t even know the word asexual existed until after I graduated high school, and to be honest, I have no idea how or why I came across it. All I knew was that suddenly every little thing made sense.

The first people I came out to was my close group of friends from high school. We were at our usual hang out at my friends pool. I’m not really sure what brought the conversation up, but I admitted to all of them that I was asexual. It.... didn’t go well. Endless jokes followed, as well as constant questions of “but wouldn’t you have sex with ....? if they asked?” or “but you just said the other day you found ..... attractive!” I was a total mess. I didn’t mention it again for months.

During my first couple days at college, I discovered there was a pride group. I ended up going by myself. I was so incredibly nervous, but it was probably one of the best decisions of my life. Not only did they accept all sexualities... but there were other asexuals there, too. I met some of the most amazing people ever. I started going to every single weekly meeting. It was nice to share a safe space for once.

First semester, my intro to psych class had a chapter on gender and sexuality. The professors (we had two because our class was 90+ people), actually did very well describing each topic, however; when we got to asexuality, the teachers admitted they had no idea what to say. We skipped it and it bothered me the entire rest of the day. The next class day, i approached one of the professors and said that I could go in front of the class and explain asexuality. She was incredibly shocked, but said she would announce when I could do so during the lecture. And you know what? I actually did it. I went up in front of 90+ people and I explained asexuality. Even when I sat back down and the dude in front of me purposefully spoke loud enough so that I could hear him making fun of me and bullying me the rest of the class, I was so proud of myself.

By second semester I had started to bring my roommate and other friends to the meetings. I was coined “the” asexual. I had never in my life been confident about anything, but when my first year at college ended, I was a completely changed person. Which led me to coming out to my mother.

After being “officially” diagnosed with depression and anxiety the previous year, my mother would occasionally make me sit down with her and we would have “a talk.” I normally discussed childhood trauma or body issues or whatever, but one day she asked me:

“Is there anything at all that you want to tell me? that you feel like you haven’t been able to before?”

And I let the words slip out of my mouth. Even the definition. My mother has never been cruel to me but I remember expecting her to cry. But you know what she said to me?

“But being pregnant was so much fun!”

TO THIS DAY, MY MOTHER IS THE ONLY PERSON I HAVE EVER HEARD SAY THIS. WHO SAYS THIS??? THE FUCK MOM?? After having a conversation about how she’s weird as hell, she eventually explained to me that even though she was disappointed she would probably never get grand kids from me, my sexuality didn’t change anything. She still loved me.

I returned to my second year of college with an actual happy coming out story, and I was also given a position (without an election) in the pride organizations leadership board. I was trained to be a “safe space” leader on campus and many people reached out to me, explaining how my openness about being asexual helped them discover who they were. I bought an asexual flag and hung it above my bed. The pride organization celebrated it’s first asexual awareness week since it’s creation (organized by myself and two other asexuals in the org).

Official elections for leadership positions come and I’m given more the following year. The art department approaches me for guidance about how to make the summer creative arts camps more inclusive. That summer, I lead my college’s group in the Columbus Pride Parade sporting my asexual flag and face paint, and as the recently elected Vice President of the pride organization.

My last year at college, I spoke on a panel for asexuality. At graduation, I was allowed to wear a rainbow pride chord around my neck. A few weeks after graduation, I went on my first date. And a few months after, my second and third. All parties aware of my sexuality, and ok with it.

Just this week, me and a fellow coworker, whom is also asexual, wished each other a happy asexual awareness week around other coworkers.

****

So what does asexuality mean to me?

It meant finding the last piece to myself that allowed me to fully awaken to the person I am today. Before I became confident in my asexuality, I was a pushover, shy, easily silenced, and I lacked any sort of confidence. I was the quiet awkward kid in the back that didn’t know how to speak for herself, who didn’t know how to say no.

Asexuality made me a leader, an activist, a source of support, a voice of reason and action. It made me brave and strong-willed where I once would shy away from opportunity. It made me independent, and gave a better sense of control over my life.

Most importantly... I understand myself. I make sense, and because of this, I will never see myself as “broken” ever again. Asexuality is part of my identity and I’m real, I exist, I have my needs, wants, and preferences. I’m valid.

I’m asexual.

(here is two surprise selfies for you!)

anything for yuta please! he is so hot in the latest comeback i cRI

im having a break currently and BOY im so happy to write for you!!! +++ i’d like to take this opportunity to ask you all to stay safe and healthy!

yall know what’s gonna happen. yes you’ve guessed it right i’m doing a strangers to lovers au

so let’s assume you look like your twin bc well…. you’re twins

BUT your twin is the popular twin, and you’re mediocre. AND you two go to separate schools

you’re going to an all-girls’ science school because your life is already hectic you don’t wanna make it anymore hectic with men

your sister goes to a nearby art school. so you know what that means; f r a t  b o y s.

also you’ve been knew that your sister is a bit of a player herself

like you’ve had boys coming to your house, crying, begging for your sister to take him back

nonetheless, though, you still love each other and depend on each other a lot

like, whenever you feel like getting a boyfriend, she’d help you out (even though your relationship ends up in flames about 3 months later because the boys you dated are all fratboys that couldn’t appreciate you enough). and in return you’d help her a lot with getting ready for dates or with her studies

so one day

you were in your school, watching a bunch of girls do a practice match of volleyball with another school because you were bored

then you got a text from your sister saying that she needed help and that it was a level-10 threat

i mean,,,, LEVEL 10? that has to be serious

so you dashed tf out of your school

by a few minutes, you’d arrived to your school

your first instinct was to go to her classroom

so you did

and then you saw a bunch of men hogging around your sister’s desk

so you were like?? wtf is going on

“what are you guys doi-”

before you could even finish your sentence, one of them yelled, “there she is!”

and another yelled, “get her!”

you were freaked??? first of all, you actually put in efforts in how you look today, you’re not about to let some crazy men ruin it for you

so you ran for your life

as you were running you wonder what your sister had done for these men to decide to kill her

thanks to your teacher for forcing you to join tons of cross-country runs, you managed to get away from them

you ran into a room and in the midst of panic you knocked onto something, and it all fell apart

you cupped your mouth

from what you can see, you probably knocked over some arts student’s sculpture

there wasn’t anyone, though, so you started looking around to hide before any art student walks in

as you were running towards what looked like a storage room, someone stepped out

he had blonde hair, and was just crazily handsome

but that wasn’t the point

he saw you, and then looked over behind you

“what the- hey! did you do that?” he asked

you weren’t sure if he was angry, or if that’s just his normal face, but eitherway he was really handsome

you looked behind you to the broken sculpture again,  and shrugged hesitantly

“may…..be…..?” your voice squeaked at the end

he gave you a look, before walking past you, “if you haven’t noticed i had been working on this for a very long time, asshole.”

his intonation wasn’t angry, but it still left a sting when he said that

you felt guilty

“i’m sor-”

“oh shut it, yuna, save that sorry for my friends that you’ve fucked.” he scoffed as he started cleaning up your mess

you were confused for a second, before everything clicked

he must’ve mistook you for your sister

you laughed awkwardly

“um, i’m y/n, not yuna” you said

he stopped sweeping, and then shot you a confused glance

“since when did you have a whole identity change?” he asked sarcastically again

you’re usually annoyed when people gave you an attitude, but you weren’t this time. maybe because you deserved it……?

“oh no, yuna is yuna. i’m her twin!” you smiled.

he stopped again, and looked at you

he clicked his tongue, and then stared at you from your head to your toe

“well…. you do have a better fashion sense than your sister.” he said

you didn’t know why, but you felt supeeeeeer happy when he said that

“i didn’t know yuna had a twin?”

“oh i go to the all-girls’ school a few miles away from here.” you told him

by now, he was done cleaning up the mess and was working on another sculpture

you wonder why he wasn’t SO mad at the fact that you literally broke a what seemed like months of hardwork

you walked over to the blonde, but he didn’t give you any reaction

“why aren’t you throwing a tantrum that i broke your masterpiece?” you asked

he gave you a glance before going back to his new sculpture

he shrugged, “i felt like it was ugly anyways.” he casually said

you nodded, and then just watched him work on his clay in silence

“so why are you here?” he asked, breaking the silence

you chuckled, “some boys are chasing my sister. i guess this is what she meant when she was having a level-10 threat.”

the guy chuckled too

“aren’t you gonna help your sister?” he asked

you shook your head, “she can handle this on her own. i’m sure her new jock boyfriend will help her out.”

“oh yea, i’m sure johnny will. everyone’s scared of him” he agrees

“you’re not so bad, y/n. i’m yuta.” he held out his hand - that had so many clay on it

it seems like he knew exactly what he was doing as he gave you a smirk to see if you were gonna shake hands or not

you took this as a friendship test - or something - so you took his hand

he made a playful look of disgust, “ew, can’t believe you took my hand like that.” he laughed

you’re pretty sure that was the first time that you saw him properly smile, and he had a really pretty smile too.

“your smile is so pretty….. i wish mine was like yours. when i smile i look like a goat.” you said as you simultaneously rested your face onto your clay-ed hand

“oh GOD!” you yelled, and made yuta laugh

“dumbass!” he claimed happily, before wiping a finger onto your nose

“HEY!” you yelled, and wiped some onto his face

yuta didn’t flinch, instead he was simply laughing

after a moment of laughter, he sighed softly, and then looked at you

“just between the two of us, you’re the better twin, y/n” he confessed, and  you giggled

he smiled again, and went on with his work

“how do i get these off my face by the way?”

he chuckled again, “you can’t” he joked

but your dumbass, who has never had experience with arts, believed him

so you were panicking

“what the- um… shouldn’t we get these off our faces?” you asked, nudging him

he shook his head, “i like it on mine. it’s a concept of van gogh’s.”

your heart was really gonna sink in your stomach, he didn’t have as much clay on his face as you did!

“that’s nice, but we should get it off our faces”

you said, nudging him even more

then, he burst out laughing again.

“you’re so funny” he told you

“you can’t be this clueless. of course the clay can be removed. just wash it with water later, idiot” he said, and shook his head

“oh” you said, a little bit embarrassed

then, you got a call

you fished your phone out just to see your sister calling

you signaled yuta to be quiet and he nodded

yuta didn’t have to hear your sister’s voice to know that she was furious at you

“wow! thank god, right? hope you don’t break his heart too.” you said sarcastically

yuta laughed at your snarky attitude

“yes i’m at your school, but a bunch of boys started chasing me thinking i was you.” you explained

“you know what? don’t come home if you’re gonna stay angry!”

you ended the call and turned back to yuta

“well, she’s mad.” you told him, and he nodded

“i love her and all, but she’s the most annoying, irritating, picky, selfish person ever when she’s mad.” you scoffed

“you can always sleep in the streets tonight” he joked

you gave him a look, and he looked away, still thinking it was a decent joke

“just lock her out,” he suggested

“i can’t, she has a spare key.”

“that’s tragic”

you nodded in agreement

“you can come over to my house if you’re comfortable enough” he winked when you looked at him

“but i bet you won’t do it, you look like you don’t have the balls to stay a night with a boy” he shrugged casually as he kept his eyes onto his sculpture

“bet.” you said, and he genuinely looked shocked

“what the hell, are- are you serious?” he stammered, which you found funny

“i mean, sure, why not?”

“aren’t you worried that i might be a serial killer?” he asked

you shrugged as you leaned onto the table in front of him

“so you’re my own version of joe goldberg? sign me up” you joked

he laughed, “you’re brave”

you let out a peace sign as a respond

“we should order in some pizzas tonight then, my treat!” he happily exclaimed

you had been staring at his face for so long - since you first met him

and you can’t help but call him handsome in your mind each time too

you weren’t really that much of a believer in love at first sight but come on, now. yuta has the looks, the talents, the personality, the respect, the humour. and to top all of that he’s got a bit of an attitude. he was screaming boyfriend material into your ears at this point

when he realised you weren’t giving out a response to a pizza night, he froze

“are you on a- um- are you on a diet? do you wanna eat something with low calories instead or-”

taken aback you immediately refuse, “oh my god, no, no! pizza is fine for tonight.” you told him

he let out a sigh of relief

“my ex used to freak out whenever i pick something to eat and it’s not up to her standards, sorry.” he explained

you rolled your eyes at the thought, “that’s plain annoying.”

he nodded in agreement, “it’s a different story if she had something to eat in mind, but no. she lets me decide and then throws a tantrum when i suggest something simple, or some shit like that.” he grunted

you chuckled seeing him annoyed

“hey, what time is it, by the way?” he asked

you opened your phone, and showed it to him, it read 7:48 PM.

“you wanna get going? talking about food is making me hungry.” he explained

you nodded, “me too.”

he started cleaning up his desk, and you helped him out

afterwards, the two of you went to wash the clay out of your hands and faces, yuta not forgetting to splash some water onto you while you were at it

the campus was dark and half-empty by then, some students were giving you looks for splashing water at each other, and you had to admit it was a bit embarrassing

“my house is kinda close to the campus, do you wanna walk or do you wanna take the bus?” he asked

you took a while to think, “since we’re gonna get fat tonight, let’s do some exercise beforehand.” you suggested, and he was fine with it

so you two started walking together

it all felt ethereal to you

the weather was great, it was windy in the right ways, the sky still had a hint of purple and pink to it

you had asked yuta a question that had probably excite yuta, because he was talking with full enthusiasts, and you were enjoying yourself seeing him so passionate about something

then, he absentmindedly swung an arm around your shoulder

and you’re just there like ‘OwO’

but you didn’t want to ruin the moment since he was still talking so passionately

so you acted like you didn’t notice it and carried on with the conversation

plus, you were lowkey (or highkey) enjoying his warmth. he’s a very warm person >:(

then, you two reached his apartment, which looked really nice

when you entered his apartment, it was a bit messy, but it was still pretty

you came to a conclusion yuta was a man of STYLE!!!!

“sorry if my place doesn’t live up to your expectations” he said, but you immediately disagree

“this is a really nice place!” you assured

he kinda gave off a playful look before sitting next to you on the sofa, “so if i were to bring you here on a date, would you like it?” he asked

you were taken aback by the question, but that doesn’t mean a smile wasn’t going to form onto your face

you immediately looked away, still having a hard time removing the grin off of your face

“i don’t know, you haven’t asked me on a date to your house yet.” you told him

he laughed, before poking his head onto your shoulder to see your reaction, “so you want me to ask you out on a lazy date?” he asked

you pushed him away, completely embarrassed, “bro like, shut the fuck up” you said playfully, which made yuta burst out laughing

“your reactions to everything are just so cute.” he told you before softly letting a sigh out

“thanks, we’ve been knew that i’m cute.” you joked

yuta made a disgusted face jokingly too, which made you laugh out of embarrassment

both of you took a really long time to finish off your meals becuase both of you were busy criticizing the shitty netflix series that you were watching

by the time both of you were tired, it was already 4 in the morning

neither you nor yuta could believe that both of you had been talking for that long

but it was undeniable that both of you were enjoying each other’s companies so much

at this point you were ready to propose to this man

but OBVIOUSLY you didn’t wtf

also, by now, you were both cuddled up by the sofa while tall girl was playing on the tv

“do you wanna watch another movie after this?” he asked, you nodded absentmindedly even though you were falling asleep

“how are we gonna get to school tomorrow?” you mumbled groggily

yuta was silent for a while and then he said, “let’s just skip tomorrow!” he suggested

you were falling asleep, yes, but the thought of skipping school excites you

you didn’t always skip school, but you wouldn’t turn down an opportunity either

“that’d be great,” you told him, before laying your head back onto his shoulder

“you know what, y/n?” he asked, you hummed as a response

“let’s go out on a date tomorrow.” he whispered, and then lied his head onto yours

To Have a Home Part 20

A/N: Hey Y’all! We did it! We finally reached part 20! I hope you’re enjoying this story as much as I am! It’s so much fun to write for these characters. As always, I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: After Draco is found guilty of an attempted murder, he is  sentenced to the Lupin’s house with hopes he’ll finally understand what  it means to have a family. Only problem? Draco doesn’t want it.      

(TW: Isla beats up a character.)

Here’s Part 21!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the outside, 20 Jericho Road looked like any abandoned house. The windows were boarded up. The front door had eviction notices all over it. The grass was overgrown. There was a rumor around town that it was haunted. “Someone died there in the twenties, I think,” was whispered among the local school children. Those who were brave would throw rocks at the windows and quickly flee on their bikes and scooters. 

Even the adults, who were wise beyond their years, would stay clear of the house. No one dare touch it. No one would even look at it for long before shuddering and walking the other way. Crossing the street before they could even see the house. 

But for Isla, it was her home. It was a place where her friends and allies could feel safe and secure. It was where they would hold meetings when Grimmauld Place was unavailable. It was where she hosted an Easter brunch before… well, before everything. It was where Tonks, Alexander, and Charlie called home too. 

But it also hosted something different entirely. Something evil. 

Deep within the house, tucked far away in a corner, was a windowless room. A doorless room as well. All that was in there was a thin cot, an empty picture frame, and a bucket.

Oh, and the man. He sat on that cot, head in his hands with his greasy platinum blonde hair framing it. He looked disheveled, mostly because he was. He couldn’t tell you the last time he’d seen the light of day. Or the last time he ate something he recognized. Or the last time he had heard another person apart from himself speak.

Of course there was the man in the painting who would leave food for him, but he could never get him to talk to him. It was his son’s old art teacher; the one who had trapped himself in a painting with dark magic. He made the mistake, once, of ripping the frame off the wall, but he didn’t get food for almost five days. It was only when he passed out from sheer exhaustion did he wake up to everything normal again. His gruel sitting disgustingly by the frame.   

Everyday was like the one before. He’d wake up on his uncomfortable cot, trying desperately to shake sleep from himself. There was always a new plate of gruel would be where it always was; next to the empty picture frame. There used to be utensils brought too, until he tried ripping the painting. Soon after, the painted man never left anything other than the bowl. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he’d catch the man in the painting himself, breaking the clear sheen between the painting and the real world, but that hardly ever happened. After that, he was stuck by himself for the rest of the day, pacing the horribly small room. He could always tell when the end of the day was near, however, because the painted man would come back, taking away the old food and bringing new things for him to eat. And it was like that, day after day. 

But not today. Today was different, and Lucius Malfoy didn’t know why. He had woken up, but there was nothing on the floor for him to eat. Never in his time here had that happened. As he was getting out of the cot, the picture frame was slammed to the side by an outside force. An entry way that Lucius had never seen before was there, as if it had been carved out of the cement that encased the entirety of the room. He had only a moment to react before Isla came in, shutting the painting back into its place as if it were a door. 

Lucius went to open his mouth, but Isla held up her wand to his throat, pushing the tip into his Adam's apple. He choked, slightly, trying to back up but finding no room to move. 

“What happened to Draco?” she hissed.

“I don’t know…”

“Choose your next words carefully, because I am not afraid to leave you dead. What. happened. to Draco?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” He said, gulping. “I haven’t seen him in Merlin knows how long. Anything could have happened to him with that godforsaken werewolf or disgusting half-blood.” 

Isla backed up for a moment, lowering her wand ever so slightly. Lucius took it as a sign of relief, but it lasted only a second. Isla wound back her right arm, punching hard into his face. His head went flying back, hitting the back wall with a skull splitting thud. Isla grabbed the front of the shirt to keep him from falling to the floor. 

Blood trickled out his clearly broken nose, and he spit it out from his mouth, choking.

“Let me try this again. What happened to Draco to give him those scars on his back.” It was a statement, not a question. Isla wasn’t here to play games. She wasn’t here to play good cop/bad cop with herself. She was here for answers. Now. 

“Please, I don’t know…” Another punch, this one aimed for his gut. He doubled over, landing on the floor, where Isla gave him a kick for good measures. 

“Don’t play stupid with me,” she said, “but if you want to--well--I’m just getting started too.”

She lined up her foot one more time, but Lucius held his hand up.

“Wait!” He brought himself up onto his hands and knees, almost kneeling before her. “I…”

“You what? Please, if you’re going to waste my time, I can sure as hell waste yours too.” 

With those words, Isla beat into him, not holding back. She would wait a few seconds in between the wailing and pounding to see if he’d say anything, but when he wouldn’t respond, she’d go right back to it. 

“It was him!” He finally got out, his voice ragged. 

Isla froze mid-kick. “...Voldemort?” 

“Yes! Yes,” He spat out blood again, the red staining his teeth. “He did it to get to me. I couldn’t do anything about it! I…” 

Before Lucius could continue, Isla grabbed him and sat him up on the cot. She pulled out a self-writing pen and an empty parchment. 

“Talk clearly, and tell me everything. If you leave anything out, anything at all…”

She didn’t even finish the sentence. Lucius babbled out a yes, crying pitiful tears. And he told her everything. Every little thing. It took him over an hour to account what happened, and he needed a moment to throw up in the empty pail. 

Isla showed him no sympathy. No pity. Not when he shook. Not when he cried. He had let this happen to his son. His only son. And for what? For recognition from him? 

The pen stopped writing when Lucius stopped talking. Tears fell from his face, leaving the front of his shirt soaked. 

“Please…” His voice was barely a whisper, “Please understand, there was nothing I could do…”

“There was nothing you could do?” Isla’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Nothing at all?” 

He shook his head. “No. He had me between a rock and a hard place…”

“Defending your son put you between a rock and a hard place?”

“You don’t understand!” He flailed his arms. “He… He would have dropped me! Left me alone! I love Draco with all of my heart, but...”

“So you’re telling me,” Isla put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched. “That if you would have told Voldemort to stop, you would have lost your standing with him?”

Lucius stopped squirming. “Please, Isla. To lose your standing with him means more than you think. I would lay down my life for Draco, I would! But…”

“Then why didn’t you?” She asked, staring him directly in the eyes. The same couldn’t be said of Lucius. She waited a few moments, before pushing him down. 

“Well, it seems like you have quite a while to think about it, then.” And with that, she turned to leave.

“Wait!” Lucius called out from the cot, not having enough energy to stand up. “Can I at least hear my son’s voice again?” 

Isla laughed a cold, bitter laugh. “Not on my life.”

a list of favourite encounters with people I’m unlikely to ever meet again

just a list of interesting people I’ve met/been friends with :) I was thinking of a few of them today and thought it probably would be interesting to write them down.

I had a friend in our children’s choir called Elise(?) who had silky blonde hair, very cool glasses (can’t remember the shape or colour but I remember thinking they were cool), and who smelled very distinctly like grape juice. We smiled at each other during rehearsal once (we were both new!), sidled up to each other, and she asked me if I wanted a Starburst. I said yes please. Instant friends. Never saw her again :(

brisk, stressed-looking lady at our favourite noodle shop; ALWAYS looked stressed so my dad always made a point of telling her that the food was very good

one of my church’s youth leaders (who moved away a long time ago). He was one of the few people who took me seriously in middle school, and actually talked to me about books. He had the cutest little girl with the curliest brown hair, and would often raise his eyebrows wryly when people commented on his bald head. I remember asking him about The Girl Who Could Fly and whether or not The Golden Compass was worth reading, and he answered my questions very seriously.

another one of my former youth leaders, this twenty-something German student called Linnea. I thought she was one of the prettiest people I’d seen. She was very friendly, very outspoken, and talked to me about choosing to follow Jesus one youth night. I really liked her, and I also really liked that she told us we could talk to her about anything. She left before I had the bravery to open my mouth, though.

I had a childhood friend called Lucy and we shared a secret hideout. It was very exciting. Once she came over to give me this gigantic rock that had a plant growing in a little hole. She moved away before I could say goodbye, and before I moved out of that neighbourhood, I used to drop by our secret hideout to make sure it was still there.

speaking of childhood friends: one was called Lisa. She had gorgeous black hair (very long) and always came to church in the prettiest dresses. She was very good at art and once showed us tiny flowers she’d sculpted out of clay. She could speak fluent Chinese (she was part of the Chinese service) and I really liked her. Unfortunately when I last visited my hometown, she didn’t remember me at all. It was a very awkward conversation.

my third grade teacher was the BEST. She was a comfortable looking woman with black hair and blue eyes, and reminded me of both Marilla and Mrs. Lynde. We had mandatory knitting hour every day and went for runs in the forest every week. She had a little wooden book cabinet with glass doors, and I would borrow books from them every once in a while. She chose Because of Winn-Dixie and The Tale of Despereaux for our novel study unit, and read both of them out loud to us. (She read the whole of Winn-Dixie in a very convincing Southern accent.) Every single one of us had our own set of knitting needles, ball of yarn, and knitting bag (she and another elementary school teacher made knitting bags with drawstrings for each and every one of us). She was the only teacher I had in that school who could calm down the restless kids, and who showed the ADHD/ADD kids compassion. When she gave you That Look you knew you had to settle down and behave. I went to visit her many years ago and found out that she’d gone in for chemotherapy - I heard later on that she’d fully recovered. I hope she’s doing well.

my fourth grade teacher (part 1). I can’t remember his name, but I remember he was VERY tall, Caucasian, and wore a sweater and a name tag on his first day. The first thing he did with us was sit down on a desk and ask us our name and something interesting about ourselves. I told him that I really liked books. He asked me which ones. I said Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Narnia. He asked me about my opinion on other Roald Dahl books. He listened to ALL of us very intently, and we warmed up to him very quickly. At the end of our introductions he went around and repeated all our names and our interesting facts. I had never felt so understood before.

my fourth grade teacher (part 2). The first one switched schools after one or two weeks, and we had Miss Payson come in. She was also comfortable-looking, with short brown hair and purple glasses. She had a purple knitted hedgehog, and spoke very kindly to all of us. We had a mandatory creative writing session every week, where we would go to the computer lab and type for around an hour. I asked her permission once to write a story about her hedgehog, and she said yes. (I was VERY happy for the rest of the day.)

my fifth grade teacher (part 1). The first was an Italian lady with black hair to her shoulders and a matter-of-fact approach. The restless kids who liked to talk back got her riled up on several occasions, but most of the time she was very calm and practical. She taught us to write comparison essays (I did one on wild vs. farmed salmon and it was a horrible essay.) She told us she was going to get married in the summer. Are you going to invite us? asked one of the boys. No, she said, and laughed. Once, a boy in my class took Jesus’s name in vain (she told us right off the bat that she was Catholic) and a steely look entered in her eye. She told him very quietly that she didn’t want to hear any such language in class, and he apologised to her immediately, rather chastened. I did some creative writing with her, and she was the first teacher to tell me that she looked forward to seeing my name on a bookstore shelf one day. I will never forget that.

my fifth grade teacher (part 2). The second was a lady from Ghana who had two children she loved telling us about, and had a very bubbly and passionate personality. She read to us in class, was VERY good at math, and often directed a certain look at us I now call an ironic glance. 

this wisp of a girl with long brown hair and a slight nervous look called Valentina. She always looked nervous and a little unhappy, and I never got the chance to ask her why.

a friend from middle school with short red hair (very wild! very beautiful!) and freckles. We were both into The Hobbit when it came out, and collaborated on a novel for NaNoWriMo in 2013(?). It was a bit messy and we never really finished it, but I remember how insistent she was that we help the main character realise that the world was still a beautiful place. (I loved her for that.)

my old band teacher in elementary school, back when I could actually play clarinet. He was British, wore the same black earrings every class, was very tall, very thin, and very kind. He never once yelled at us for playing badly, or for getting distracted. Band was so much fun with him. I can’t tell you how many times we practiced King Arthur’s March, but I can tell you that it was a LOT.

someone I saw when I got off the train one day. I was on the way home, the train doors opened, and I saw the most beautiful pair of eyes I had ever seen. I don’t remember his face at all (I don’t recall any other features of his) but I do remember that it was late afternoon, and the sun struck his brown eyes. I could see the gold in them. It was an enchanting experience.

a whole GROUP of people I dearly wanted to be friends with: this boy who I thought must be some sort of fairy: rectangular wire glasses, very floppy dirty blond hair, angelic smile, insisted on wearing a pageboy cap and clunky boots, played violin like it was as natural to him as breathing. He was a very friendly person. His sister, who also had short hair and glasses - the kind of person whose enthusiasm is contagious. (When she talks to you, you can’t help but smile.) Also another of his possible relatives (I don’t know... they were both blonde, tall, and had similar hair): this slender, elf-like girl with a pixie cut who had black combat boots, and an endless supply of flannel shirts and dangly earrings. She was into Lord of the Rings and Doctor Who (I was always at the edge of my seat, wishing I could chime in with an “I love them too!” but I was never quite brave enough). Another girl was always dressed in black (with matching purple lipstick and ALSO black combat boots), and talked about the books she liked and didn’t like (Brave New World wasn’t worth reading, she said one day). A younger girl with bouncy blonde hair and these GORGEOUS blue-green eyes. I didn’t know that people’s eyes could actually sparkle until I saw her. She was the life of the party, and was incredibly charming because she didn’t seem to be aware at all how charming she was. OH and a girl who looked like she’d walked right out of the 1940s: red lipstick, curly ginger hair, beauty mark, with an incredible singing voice. She was in love with La La Land and Phantom of the Opera (very valid) and was the darling of the group (you could definitely tell why: she was well-spoken, bright-eyed, generous). And a very tall, very quiet boy with dark curly hair who was very talented at any kind of art. Very fluent in French (French was part of the vernacular in this friend group... they sometimes slipped in and out of it and I would just sit and smile, somewhat confused). Also very kind. I remember he once asked to look at my sketchbook (I was vibrating with nervousness the whole time. You know when you’re in middle school, and want validation SO much? Or maybe that was just my social anxiety) and when he finally handed it back, he said something nice and smiled. I instantly felt more at ease. He was also a friendly person, the kind of person you could sit with for a long time in silent companionship. Also very, very kind - and more of an action person than a talking person.

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 21: A Beacon of Hope

(Slight warning: There’s a bit near the end where Ren describes her initial experience with Kamoshida. If it’s too much for you, the section you should skip begins with the words “She looked down” and ends after the three paragraphs.)

May 2nd. The day Shiho was going to burn down the school, and with it, all of her fears and insecurities. Yet the three human Phantom Thieves stood in front of the school (with Morgana residing in Ren’s bag). “Yep. It’s still there” Ryuji said.

Ann was a little nervous. Ren took notice. “Are you OK?”

Ann still hesitated. She sighed. “I just thought Kamoshida would have confessed by now. We did all of that, and yet…”

“It’ll happen Lady Ann,” Morgana said from the bag. “I guarantee it.”

Ann smiled slightly. “Thanks Morgana.”

Ryuji looked around and saw something that surprised how. “Is that?”

The two girls looked where Ryuji looked. “Shiho?!” Ann said with surprise.

Shiho timidly walked up to them. “Hey everyone,” she said, quietly. After a period of silence, she just let out an “I’m sorry.”

“Shiho!” Ann said again, tears bursting out of her. She rushed to Shiho and hugged her. “I’m SO glad you’re OK.”

Shiho was surprised. She then smiled and hugged Ann back. “Thank you Ann.” The two of them stopped hugging. Shiho was still nervous, though understandably so. “Well, I guess we should go in.”

“Yeah” Ren nodded, smiling. The four of them headed in.

When they got to class, Morgana made his way into Ren’s desk. “You seem a little more cheerful than you were this morning,” he remarked.

Ren grinned at him. “You’ve noticed. Well, this is just a guess, but if Shiho is well enough to come to school, and her and Kamoshida were linked in the metaverse, I’m thinking we might get our confession today.”

Serendipitously, the announcements came on. “Attention. This is Suguru Kamoshida. I am advising everyone to come to the auditorium for a special announcement. Please. I beg of you.”

As the class murmured on what this could be, Morgana looked at Ren and said “You were saying?”

Ren giggled. “Let’s go.”

Kawakami sighed. “Alright. Settle down. Kamoshida told us about this this morning, so we made time for it. Now please, everyone in a single file line.” The class was restless, but did as Kawakami said, since they figured it was the easiest way to figure out why Kamoshida was calling this meeting.

Soon, the whole school was lined up in the auditorium. Kamoshida was standing at the front of the room. Everyone waited with bated breath, wondering what this proverbial king would say. He approached the mic and began speaking. “I...have been reborn.”

The crowd was more curious. Kamoshida continued. “During my tenure, I was not an adequate instructor. I gave in to my own self-interest, and pushed my distorted desires on the children I was supposed to teach. I’ve overworked my students. Physically abused my students. And” he let out a long, deep sigh, “sexually harassed several female students.”

The students were all in a frenzy. The teachers were unsure of what to do. And Principal Kobayakawa sweated enough bullets to load a chaingun. And yet, Kamoshida went on. “I have done various things to manipulate my students to get what I want. I have pressured them. I have spread rumors. I've even made outright threats. I can no longer live with the sins bearing on my soul.”

Kamoshida got down on his hands and knees. “I am a terrible teacher. A terrible coach. And a terrible person. Please. Someone. Kill me and put me out of my misery.” Soon there was an uproar in the auditorium. Kamoshida not only admitted his crimes, but also begged to be killed. Right there. In front of everyone.

Ren, Ryuji, and Ann were confused and a little outraged. They had ventured into the metaverse to prevent this, and yet he’s just going to give up and die? However, before any of them had a chance to speak, Shiho found her courage. “Don’t run you bastard!” she shouted, gaining the attention of everyone. They all saw the fire in her eyes. “You sent ALL of your students to Hell and back! And yet, we’re all still standing! Because we never gave up! No matter how much you made our lives agony! You have no right to run from this!”

The auditorium remained quiet until Kamoshida chuckled. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re absolutely right. Someone. Call the cops. I’m going to turn myself in and pay for my crimes.”

The crowd was chattering with themselves while the teachers tried to maintain order. There was some noticeable speculation on whether or not this was the doing of the Phantom Thieves who brazenly sent Kamoshida a calling card not too long ago. Some people thought that stealing hearts would be impossible, but others pointed out that no other explanation makes sense for Kamoshida’s sudden change in behavior.

The principal ran up to the target and took the microphone. He was clearly nervous about what just transpired here. “Well, um, in light of what just happened, I’m, um, cancelling classes for the rest of the day while we sort this all out.” There was a noticeable amount of contempt for Kobayakawa from the crowd after he said that. Still, the teachers were organizing efforts to leave, but a few decided to stick around anyways.

Notably, Ren, Ann, and Ryuji. “Man, that was something else” Ryuji commented.

“I’ll say,” Ren said. “I mean, I knew he was going to confess, but I wasn’t expecting it to be a spectacle like that.”

“Yeah,” Ann said. “But what really surprised me was Shiho.”

“Yeah” Ryuji agreed. “I mean, I was getting ready to say something like that, but I think it felt more powerful coming from her.”

“Speaking of,” Ren said. She turned in the direction of Shiho. “Let’s go.” The three of them walked over. “Hey,” Ren said, gaining Shiho’s attention. “That was really brave of you.”

“You...think so?” Shiho asked.

“Totally!” Ann answered. “You were AMAZING!”

Shiho smiled and blushed slightly. “Thanks.”

“Takamaki!” some girls called out.

The group turned to the girls. “Oh” Ann said. “What’s up?”

One of the girls began. “We’re so sorry!”

“Yeah, we believed and spread those horrible rumors about you and Kamoshida.”

“We had no idea he was pressuring you to do his bidding.”

“We’re so sorry.”

Ann smiled. “It’s OK. I was also caught up in Kamoshida’s bullshit. I know how hard it can be to see through it all. It’s not your fault.”

“But we treated you so terribly,” one of the girls said.

“How are you so willing to look past that?” the other asked.

“Well…” Ann began. “I realized something. Everything that happened was all Kamoshida’s fault. If I let how he made people think of me get to me, then he’s won. So instead, I’ve decided to not care what people think. I’m going to be myself. And if people don’t like it, then why should I care?”

“Wow” said one of the girls.

“Well, thanks anyway” the other one said. The two walked off.

“That was inspiring,” Ren said.

Ann chuckled. “I learned that from you” she said, giving Ren a light shove.

“Me?” she asked.

Ann nodded. “Yeah. You’re one of the strongest people I know.” Shiho looked at the floor. Everyone else took notice. Ann grabbed Shiho’s hand. “Shiho” Shiho looked up. “You’re also one of the strongest people I know.”

Shiho was shocked. “But...I was…”

“We know,” Ann said. “But it would be hard not to think to do that in your shoes.”

“Yeah” Ryuji said. “I almost went along with it, but something inside me said I shouldn’t.”

“You’re amazing Shiho,” Ann said. “The way you stood up to Kamoshida today. That was amazing.”

“She’s right,” Ren said. “Everyone of us was thinking that, but you summoned the courage to speak out.”

Shiho was stunned. “I guess I did,” she said.

“Shiho. You’re amazing” Ann said. “As your best friend, I’m not going to let you think otherwise.”

Shiho smiled. “Thanks Ann.” She stood silently for a second. “Alright. That’s it.” The three thieves were surprised. “I’m determined to stand on my own two feet. I’m going to bring this school’s volleyball team to nationals.”

“Woah wait, hold on” Ryuji said. “Don’t you think with Kamoshida gone, there might be some problems with that?”

“I don’t care,” Shiho said. “I’m not going to let that stop me. Kamoshida may have dragged the team down, but I will raise it up. I love volleyball, and I am determined to not let Kamoshida take that away from me anymore”

Ren smiled. “Way to go!”

“You can do it Shiho!” Ann cheered.

“Alright! I feel ya” Ryuji added.

There were some sirens blaring. Ann looked around. “We should probably head out.

“Yeah” Ryuji said. He and Ann left.

Ren started to leave, but felt Shiho grabbing her harm. “Wait,” she said. Ren turned to her as Shiho let go. “I know Ann and Ryuji well, but you’re new here. And I feel like I didn’t make a good first impression. And I’ve seen and heard how great of a friend you are to those two. So I want a second chance to make a good first impression.” She reached out her hand. “Friends?”

Ren smiled, shook Shiho’s hand, and said “Friends.”

I am thou... Thou art I… Thou hast acquired a new vow...

It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.

With the birth of the Hope Persona I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power

Hope-Shiho Suzui: Rank 1

“Oh. There you are” Ann said. Ren turned to see Ryuji and Ann walk back up to her.

“Uh, right,” Ryuj said. “There’s something else we need to discuss,” Ryuji said. “The usual place?”

Ren looked at Shiho. “It’s OK. I’ll be fine on my own. Ren smiled, knowing that she actually meant it, and headed off with her gang of thieves.

They all met on the roof. “Well, today sure was something,” Ryuji said.

“You can say that again,” Ann remarked.

Morgana hopped out on the table. “Yeah, but this is all good news. We got Kamoshida to confess, Shiho didn’t burn down the school, and I don’t know if you've heard, but people are already talking about the Phantom Thieves.”

“Yeah,” Ren said. “Overall, I’ve gotta say today was pretty good.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ryuji said. “So, does that mean we get to hawk the medal?” He began looking up stuff on his phone.

“I guess we should,” Ann said, “but wouldn’t the buyer get a little suspicious?”

“Don’t worry,” Ren said. “I think we have a prospective buyer who won’t ask too many questions.”

“Woah!” Ryuji said. “This thing can get up to 30,000 yen?!”

The thieves were shocked. “Remember that time I loaned you some money and you didn’t pay me back?” Ann asked.

“What?!” Ryuji screeched. “It wasn’t 30,000!”

“Yeah, but with interest…” Ann said.

“That’s bullshit!” Ryuji said.

“...Why don’t we do something with the money as a unit?” Morgana said, trying to cool tensions.

“Oh, I like that!” Ann said. “There’s this buffet I’ve been meaning to try. We can go and celebrate!”

“Alright, now you’re speaking my language!” Ryuji said. “A celebration of the Phantom Thieves by stuffing our faces! I love it!”

Ren grinned. “Well, I guess that’s settled.”

“So, when should we do it?” Ann asked.

“Oh, let’s go on the 5th, Children’s day!” Ryuji said. “It’s the last day of Golden Week, so it’ll be celebratory, non-conspicuous, and it’ll give us a chance to sell the medal.”

“Wow, that’s actually pretty smart of you” Ren remarked.

“Heh heh, I try,” Ryuji said. “So, that’s the plan then.”

“I think so,” Ann said.

“We’re all in agreement there,” Morgana said.

Ren nodded. “You just leave selling the medal to me.” The four left the rooftop and started heading down. Ren went to one of her jobs early, since she wanted to keep out of Sojiro’s hair. When she got back in the evening, she got a group message.

Ann: I can’t WAIT to try out this place.

Ryuji: You keep talking it up.

Ann: Sorry.

Ann: I’ve been meaning to go with Shiho, but…

Ryuji: Um, do you think she would want to come?

Ann: I already asked. She says she might be ready to go to school, but she needs time to do more things.

Ryuji: Gotcha.

Ryuji: Still, whether we can go depends on whether or not the medal is sold.

Ren: Do you not trust me?

Ryuji: It’s not that.

Ryuji: I’m just not sure I can trust someone willing to buy it off a high schooler.

Ryuji: I mean, 30,000 yen is a lot.

Ann: Especially if you rack up interest.

Ryuji: This again?

Ryuji: Look, I’m sorry I haven’t paid you back yet.

Ren: Why did you borrow money in the first place?

Ann: He REALLY wanted that dolphin.

Ren: Dolphin?

Ryuji: We were on a school field trip to an aquarium.

Ann: He bought a souvenir and didn’t have enough money for the bus back.

Ryuji: I bought it because my mom really wanted it.

Ann: ...Well, if you bought it for your mom, then I guess I can give you a pass this time.

Ann: The next time I lend you money, I expect to be paid back in full.

Ryuji: ...Thanks.

Ren: That’s a lovely story.

Ren: Well, goodnight.

Ryuji: G’night.

Ann: Goodnight.

Ren put her phone away and went to bed.

The next day she was about to leave to sell the medal when Sojiro stopped her. “Hey. Since you’re off, would you mind helping out around the cafe?”

Ren paused. Morgana whispered to her. “It should be alright. You do owe him a little, and we can always sell this tomorrow.” Ren smiled, nodded at Sojiro, and prepared herself to help out. She let Morgana roam around the neighborhood.

As the evening was drawing near, a report about the Kamoshida incident appeared on TV. “Tonight: A former Olympian medalist turned teacher was arrested after admitting to serious abuse and sexual harassment.” The TV cut to interviews with students who said various things on the subject. “While the teacher is now behind bars, there are still some questions that linger. Most notable of which was a calling card sent to Mr. Kamoshida days before he confessed to everything.”

Sojiro looked at the TV. “Hey, isn’t that your school?”

“Huh? Yeah” Ren said.

“Hm” Sojiro said. “Well, it’s a good thing he got arrested before anything happened to you, huh.”

“Yeah,” Ren said.

Sojiro paused for a moment. “Oh. Son of a BITCH!”

“What?” Ren said.

“He DID try to harass you!” Sojiro 

Ren was surprised. “What makes you say that?”

Sojiro glared. “I could tell by your voice.” He sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Ren steeled herself. “What makes you think I would?”

“I’m your guardian” he answered. “I’m supposed to protect you.”

“Psh. Only for my probation” Ren snarked. “What makes you think I should be able to trust you with this kind of thing? You don’t trust me with your house. You don’t trust me with a key to this place. Hell, you don’t even trust that I’m not a criminal.”

Sojiro glared at her. “Alright. We’re doing this.” Sojiro whipped up some coffee for the two of them. “Sit down.”

Ren was unsure of where this commanding aura was going to lead, but for now she at least trusted Sojiro enough to believe he didn’t mean her harm. She sat down across from him. “What is this then?” she asked.

Sojiro looked at her intently. “I’ve only heard the police report. What’s your side of the story?”

Ren was surprised. Would he believe me? Well, this is my chance. He’s at least willing to listen, so why not? “Some guy was trying to force a woman into his car. I stepped in between them to split them up. He was pretty drunk so he fell over. He then said he was going to sue me for assault.

Some police officers came by, and appeared to recognize him. He coerced the woman he was with to say that I had attacked him. He also asked the officer to leave his name out of it. And that’s how I got arrested.” Ren put her head in her hand. “So the question is do you believe that?”

Sojiro stared at her silently for a few seconds. He sighed. “I’ve known many people like the man you just described. I also have less faith in the system than it might appear. Your story is believable, and I don’t think you would lie to me at this point.”

Sojiro took a sip of his coffee. “So, I believe you when you say you aren’t a criminal. Now, I need you to trust me on a few things. You don’t HAVE to, I’m just asking here.” Ren nodded, sipping her coffee. Sojiro sighed. “I need you to believe me when I tell you that things at my house are complicated. I can’t fully explain why unless it becomes an absolute necessity.

BUT I also need you to believe that I have your best interest in mind. Of course I don’t want you to cause trouble, but I don’t want you to get in trouble either. If you ever get backed into a corner, I want you to know that I’ll be there. What do you say?”

Ren looked at Sojiro. His tone seemed stern, but his expression seemed pained. To Ren, it seemed like he was an authority on what would happen if you had no one to rely on. He was willing to listen to her, and he was willing to help her out in different circumstances since she got here. Just as he believed her, she needed to believe him.

She looked down. “On my first day going to school, Ann and I had met at the same intersection. That man, Mr. Kamoshida, pulled up and invited the two of us in his car. Ann told me it was alright, but I sensed hesitation in her voice. I came along just to make sure everything would be OK.

Afterwards, Ann and I got acquainted, and then I met her friend Shiho. After school, Mr. Kamoshida called me to his office.” Ren began to shake. “He wanted the two of us to get intimate, and he threatened to reveal the fact that I got arrested if I didn’t comply. But before anything could happen, Ann and Shiho found us and helped me escape.”

Ren took off her glasses and cleaned them a little bit. “The whole thing was surprising to say the least. I couldn’t imagine how brazen he could be. And, in all honesty, I felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. I honestly have no clue what I would have done if Ann and Shiho hadn’t rescued me.”

Sojiro looked at her. “If I knew anyone I trusted in prison, I’d pay them to just beat the living shit out of this person.”

Ren was curious. “So, you know people in prison?”

“That’s...not the point right now,” Sojiro said. “The point is, I’m glad you were able to open up with me like that. It couldn’t have been easy, but…”

Ren smiled. “I getchu,” she said.

Sojiro chuckled. “You’re pretty strong. After going through everything you did, you seem to be still standing well on your own.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Ren said. “I’m not on my own. I have my friends, and I have you.”

Sojiro was surprised. “Eheh. Well, thank you.” Sojiro smiled. “I know that when the time is right, I’ll have you as well. Here” he said, sliding a key towards her. “I had this made yesterday. I was going to give it to you regardless, but I think after our talk, now’s the time to give it to you.”

Ren picked up the key and smiled. “Thanks.”

Hierophant-Sojiro Sakura: Rank 3

Ren finished her coffee, and went upstairs to her bed.

In The Darkness Chapter 50 - I Must Not Tell Lies

Words: 3,703

Summary: Students return to Hogwarts, but the Ministry of Magic has assigned a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Previous chapter | First chapter

Thank you @kiun for beta-ing me

Read on AO3

Hogwarts was back to its usual self. The maze had been destroyed after the Triwizard Tournament and the dragon pit was long gone. The only reminders of the previous year were the Great Lake which spread out underneath Hogwarts’ candlelit turrets, and the knowledge that one of their classmates wasn’t coming back.

Yato, Yukine and Hiyori had spent the train journey in near silence, buried in books about defence charms or, in Yukine’s case, mostly staring out of the window. They settled into their school dormitories quickly, comfortable in their second home and amongst friends once again before they attended assembly in the Great Hall.

The Great Hall’s cavernous ceiling was littered with floating candles, a sight that had Hiyori reminisce about the first time she had walked under them for the Sorting Ceremony, the same one that would take place tonight.

The students took their seats at their house tables and the Great Hall doors were closed with a soft, resounding clatter.

Professor Tenjin stood from the teachers table and approached his spread-eagled podium, and silence fell across the room.

“Welcome back to you all,” Professor Tenjin’s voice boomed through the Great Hall. “I hope you enjoyed your summer and are ready for the following school year.”

Professor Tenjin continued his welcome and began to dive into the thing that students didn’t want to hear… exams.

“Fifth years will take their O.W.L. exams this year-,” the mention of this had Yukine and Hiyori shudder simultaneously with the rest of their grade. “- and seventh year students will be taking their N.E.W.T. exams. Please do study as these are important for your careers.”

Yato sighed. He’d forgotten about that. Because he was caught up in the Triwizard Tournament in fifth year, he was excused from O.W.L. exams. Unfortunately, Yato now had to take his O.W.L.s and study for N.E.W.T.s this year to catch up. At least he’d have some classes with Yukine and Hiyori for once.

“Caretaker Kiun would like me to ask for the hundredth time today that magic and broomsticks are not permitted in the corridors or in between classes.” Professor Tenjin said this with a hint of a smile. The smile faded rather quickly and the students could sense a change in the atmosphere.

“Before we welcome our new students let us blow away the storm that has clouded our school,” Professor Tenjin said gently. “The Sorcerer has returned; I told you this many months ago but still the Ministry does not believe it. Not even when one of our own was slain at Hogwarts.”

Yato looked over to Hufflepuff’s table. He could see Yukine’s head was bowed, no doubt trying to hold in the emotion at the mention of Suzuha.

As if today wasn’t bad enough without the reminder, Yato thought to himself. They had only been back at Hogwarts a matter of hours and Yato was afraid Yukine would break at any second.

Professor Tenjin continued. “We must be diligent, and now more than ever we must be prepared to defend ourselves and others from the Dark Arts.”

Professor Tenjin’s gestured for Kiun to open the Great Hall’s doors without another word, and with that the conversation was over.

Professor Tsuyu stepped forward with the Sorting Hat and a short wooden stool placed in front of the Headmaster as the doors creaked open. Kuraha led the bewondered first years into the hall, and the darkness that had overshadowed them was somewhat lifted by the commencement of the Sorting Ceremony.

Yato kept an eye on Yukine throughout the Sorting Hat’s declarations, and after a few minutes, Yukine raised his head. Yato could see the redness around his eyes but it was clear Yukine was putting on a brave face. It couldn’t be nice sleeping beside Suzuha’s empty bed.

Professor Tenjin stepped to his podium once Professor Tsuyu had carried the Sorting Hat and its stool out of the way. He launched into his annual speech welcoming the new students to Hogwarts, how they should avoid the Forbidden Forest, and the new Quidditch Cup tournament.

Having sat through six years of the same announcements, Yato’s thoughts and eyes began to wander. He found himself staring at the teachers table that overlooked the Great Hall. The usual suspects were there: Kuraha the Groundskeeper seated at the very end of the table, Akiha the Charms teacher, Madame Kofuku…

Yato’s attention was caught by the person beside her; there was a new face at the teachers table.

Between Madame Kofuku and Professor Takemikazuchi sat a woman dressed in white robes sewn with scarlet. She had long dark hair in a tight updo, apart from two long bangs that hung either side of her face. She was unusual and striking, but her face seemed cold with the way she showed no warmth to her new colleagues. Her blue-grey eyes swept over the room and lingered on Slytherin’s table, and Yato couldn’t help but feel she was looking for him.

Yato tuned into Professor Tenjin’s announcement as he turned his attention to the newcomer.

“… And we would like to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Oshi, who has joined us from the Ministry of Magic.”

There was a smattering of applause from teachers and students, but Professor Oshi did not react or acknowledge the introduction.

Yato should have expected as much since Rabo – their last Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – had been outed as a Death Eater sent to ensure Yato ended up in the Sorcerer’s hands. It had become somewhat of a trend besides the year they had a werewolf for a teacher.

But a professor sent by the Ministry… that sounded off, if not dangerous.

Especially when they didn’t believe that the Sorcerer was back.

~

The following morning the trio snagged a corner of the Slytherin table where a group of seventh years had wearily trekked away to the library to begin studying for their N.EW.T. exams.

They picked over a breakfast of toast and sausages as they discussed their classes. It felt strange to be back at Hogwarts after so long away, their black school robes and bags heavy. Yukine kept pulling at his tie, loosening it more than a professor would’ve liked.

“So what do you do if you’re taking OW.L.s and N.E.W.T.s this year?” Hiyori asked Yato.

Yato swallowed his mouthful of toast. “I’ll take my O.W.L.s this year with you guys, my N.E.W.T. exams will be next year.”

Yukine raised an eyebrow at this. “So, you’re being held back a year.”

“No,” Yato said curtly. “I’ll be in class with you babies and doing twice the work. I’m allowed more electives to focus on my O.W.L.s subjects because they’re needed to progress to the N.E.W.T.s.”

Hiyori cut in before Yukine could retort to the ‘baby’ comment. “So, what classes are you taking?”

Yato thought for a second and slowly listed the subjects he chose. “Charms, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, History of Magic, Ancient Seals, and… Muggle Studies.”

Yukine made a face at the last one. They would be having to explain Muggle things to him again for the rest of the year. “Haven’t you chosen too much?”

Yato shrugged. “If I fail a few I have some to fall back on.” Yato reasoned. Yukine was almost surprised Yato had thought of a plan.

“We’ll be together for most classes then,” Hiyori said with a smile.

“What did you guys choose?” Yato asked. He bit into another piece of toast only to be disgusted that it was nearly cold and logged with butter.

“Charms, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic, Transfiguration, and Herbology.” Hiyori recited.

They looked at Yukine who sighed and frowned, trying to remember what he chose. He listed his subjects even slower than Yato had. “Charms, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology.”

“That’s four classes we all have together,” Hiyori pointed out. She rummaged in the pocket of her robes and pulled out a folded square of paper. With some rustling it came undone and Hiyori scanned the Tuesday schedule.

“We have Charms this morning, you could join us,” Hiyori suggested.

Yato nodded his approval. “Ok.”

Yato swung his legs around the bench and shouldered his bag and followed Hiyori out of the Great Hall, Yukine shuffling behind him. It would be nice to sit in a fifth-year class with Yukine and Hiyori instead of by himself. At least he wouldn’t have Nora watching his every move.

At that thought Yato stopped in his tracks and looked back at Slytherin’s table. Yukine nearly bumped into him, giving a huff and side stepping Yato to continue walking, telling him to hurry up. Yato frowned as he recalled the previous night, where all students had sat down for the start-of-term feast. It wasn’t just one person who hadn’t returned to Hogwarts.

Where was Nora?

~

Yato, Yukine and Hiyori were holed up in the library after lunch where, once again, he noticed Nora wasn’t there.

Hiyori sat at a table opposite Yukine who rocked back on the rear legs of his chair. Yato stood beside her leaning against the latticed window. After a few moments Yato voiced his observation about Nora not being present at dinner, breakfast or lunch.

“Maybe she’s avoiding you?” Hiyori suggested.

Yukine scoffed. That was hardly likely. Either way, it was better than she wasn’t around to harass Yato when their ‘Father’ was trying his best to kill or snatch Yato.

“She probably has something to do with the Sorcerer if your dad is working with him,” Yukine said.

Hiyori looked horrified. Yes, Yato and Nora shared a non-biological father, but to say that Nora was involved with the Sorcerer was a huge accusation.

“Yukine, don’t say such things!” Hiyori exclaimed.

She looked at Yato worriedly, hoping a fight didn’t break out. However, Yato only regarded Yukine with reproachful eyes, hands planted on the windowsill behind him.

“Why? The Ministry won’t do anything about it anyway.” Yukine snapped. “He should’ve left her in that lake to die.”

Yukine glared at Yato, and it suddenly clicked for Hiyori: Yukine blamed Nora for Suzuha’s death.

Father’s involvement with the Sorcerer kidnapping Yato could implicate Nora, who was known to report back about what Yato was doing at school. Hiyori could see why Yukine would want someone to blame – and to hate - for Suzuha’s death.

“You know Nora didn’t have anything to do with it, Yukine,” Yato said levelly.

Yukine fumed and slammed his chair back onto the flagstones. Without a word he roughly slung his bag over his shoulder and stormed away, knocking his chair over which startled the quiet library.

Yato sighed as he watched Yukine round the corner and vanish from sight. He walked around to the other side of the table and picked up the chair, gently pushing it back under the table. He caught Hiyori’s eye.

Hiyori swallowed thickly. She’d never seen Yukine that angry before.

“It’s been a day, Hiyori,” Yato said. He walked back around the table and placed a hand on the back of Hiyori’s chair. “Being back at Hogwarts isn’t going to be easy for him. You have to remember they were together for a long time and Suzuha never got justice.”

Hiyori nodded and let out a shaky ‘Yeah’.

“We need to keep an eye on him, ok?” Yato asked. He bent sideways slightly to look at the side of Hiyori’s face.

Hiyori turned her head and looked in his eyes, giving him a determined nod. Yukine needed them now more than ever.

~ 

They did keep an eye on Yukine, and they didn’t like what they saw.

In fourth period Yato, Yukine and Hiyori were reunited for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The newly appointed Professor Oshi stood at the front of the class as they entered, wand in hand and in silence.  

Yato sat at a single desk besides Yukine, feeling slightly embarrassed at being in a class of fifth years. He felt eyes on him, no doubt because he’d been splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet for months on end. Hiyori took a seat behind Yato and gave him a nod when he turned to look at her.

The slam of a book on the table made Yato jump and turn around. In front of him, and floating down the aisle to the students behind him, was a copy of Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners. Yato looked down at the book and then at Yukine, who looked just as confused.

“You will be sitting O.W.L. exams this year, otherwise known as Ordinary Wizarding Level. This is the basic qualification you will need to continue this subject at N.E.W.T. level.” Professor Oshi said.

She hadn’t moved from her position, cold eyes looking over the class for the slightest hint of disobedience.

Yato flicked through the book as she spoke. There was nothing to indicate examples of spells or even incantations. It was as if the book was made for a five-year-old, not fifth years.

As if reading his mind Professor Oshi finished by saying: “This class will be non-practical, approved by the Ministry of Magic.”

There was a quiet murmur in the class. Non-practical Defence was unheard of.

“There’s nothing about spells in here,” Yukine said aloud.

Professor Oshi’s eyes snapped to look at the speaker. They narrowed as she regarded the boy’s slouched posture, unkempt hair and messy tie. “You won’t need spells in the classroom.”

“How will we learn to defend ourselves then?” Yukine shot back.

“You will learn the theory that is needed to pass the exam and that is all.” Professor Oshi replied.

“How does theory prepare us?”

“You don’t need to be prepared.”

“So, when the Sorcerer decides he wants to kill someone else the Ministry wants us to lie down and let it happen?”

The rapid exchange quickly fell into silence. The room held a bated breath.

Professor Oshi’s demeanour became even colder, calculating. After a moment she spoke in a crisp, clear voice addressing the room.

“Let me make this clear. The Sorcerer has not returned. I’m sure there’s some amongst you who believe this-,”

Yato shrunk back in his chair slightly as the professor’s gaze cast over him. He could feel an eruption coming if she said another word. Unfortunately for her, she said the worst thing she could’ve.

“- but it is all a lie.”

 Yukine slammed his book on the table and stood up, his chair toppling over from the force and clattering to the ground.

“IT’S NOT A FUCKING LIE! THE SORCERER MURDERED MY FUCKING BOYFRIEND AND THE MINISTRY IS DOING FUCK ALL TO CATCH HIM! YOU CAN’T EVEN ADMIT IT TO YOURSELF YOU FUCKING BITCH!” Yukine screamed.

His voice turned hoarse towards the end, and neither Yato nor Hiyori could tell if it was from the tirade or raw emotion.

The room was silent, all eyes on Yukine. His knuckles had turned white from gripping the edge of the table, shoulders visibly shaking and eyes as poisonous as ivy as he stared the new professor down.

“Detention.” Professor Oshi said. She was unfazed by the outburst, and Yato could have sworn he saw a smirk play on her lips. “My office.”

Yukine shoved his table, nearly toppling it and sending the book to the floor with a slap and stormed out of the classroom. Hiyori winced as the door slammed behind him with earth-shattering force.

“You will read one chapter per class and write an essay about what you have learned.” Professor Oshi stated.

For the rest of the lesson the class continued in silent reading, Professor Oshi at the front of the class in her usual stance watching over them.

Yato stared at the book but he didn’t take in any of the information, mind preoccupied with Yukine’s outburst. It wasn’t much of a secret that Yukine and Suzuha were dating. They had gone to the Yule Ball together as champion and date. Yukine was Suzuha’s treasure to save from the lake. He hadn’t even been able to see Suzuha before he went into that fucking maze.

But that was the first time Yato had heard Yukine call Suzuha his boyfriend.

And now they were being told it was an accident.

The bell rang throughout the school and the class packed up, taking their babyish defence book with them and filing out of the class with muted whispers. Yato spotted Yukine’s bag on the floor by the toppled chair, realising that Yukine had left it in his rampage. Yato picked up the fallen book and tucked it inside the bag before putting it over his shoulder alongside his own.

Yato could assume that Yukine wasn’t going to any more classes today after that. He would have to give him his bag back another time.

Hiyori stood outside the classroom waiting for Yato, arms folded and looking worried.

“What the hell was that about?” Hiyori hissed.

Yato assumed she meant Professor Oshi denying the Sorcerer had returned rather than Yukine’s outburst, but he didn’t reply. Instead he steered Hiyori down the stairs by the elbow, looking behind to see Professor Oshi watching them over the balcony.

Yato looked back at the ground, footsteps quick on the stone steps.

“Looks like the Ministry wants to make sure no one at Hogwarts believes the Sorcerer is back,” Yato said lowly. “They won’t even teach us Defence now because of it.”

“They can’t stop us from learning, we need to know how to protect ourselves!” Hiyori argued at the injustice.

Yato shook his head. “They already have.”

They reached the second floor where they had to part ways for their next classes. A few students passed them as they stood to the side, keeping their voices low.

“They can’t brainwash us into submission; we know exactly what happened!” Hiyori exclaimed.

“I know what happened,” Yato corrected her gently. “Right now, it’s my word against the Ministry, and I don’t think I’ll win.”

Hiyori huffed and looked away. She began to feel the same way Yukine did in this situation. What good was the Ministry of Magic if it didn’t protect its citizens?

Yato reached out and touched Hiyori’s arm gently. “It won’t be forever, Hiyori.”

He smiled at her when she met his gaze. He could see the concern in her eyes, a look he had become accustomed to throughout their years at Hogwarts. Things always worked out in the end.

“The Sorcerer will already be defeated once the Order finds the prophecy.”

~

Yukine did not go to the rest of his classes, as Yato predicted. Instead he had hid out in Hufflepuffs common room, cursing. The bell rang to signal the end of the school day, and although he had hardly cooled off enough, he still had detention with Professor Oshi.

Yukine knocked twice on her office door in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and waited. His chair had been rectified and stood in an orderly manner with the rest of the class, his bag missing.

The door opened by itself and Yukine stepped inside. Professor Oshi sat at her large, empty desk, hands folded and her attention on Yukine immediately. It seemed that she had been doing nothing but wait for him to arrive.

Yukine noted the small trunk in the back corner which appeared to be the only new addition to the bare office. No portraits hung on the drab walls, no belongings filling the wooden cabinets. The bookcase against the far wall was practically empty aside from a few copies of the book she had handed out earlier. The fireplace was the only ornamental piece in the room, pristinely cleaned and polished with fresh logs placed inside.

Normally offices were personalised, but it seemed she had either no possessions or no personality. Yukine decided it was the latter.

“You will be doing lines for your punishment.” Professor Oshi stated.

Her dull eyes looked behind him and Yukine turned. A small desk facing the wall stood adjacent to her desk, set up already with a piece of parchment and a black quill in an ink pot.

Yep, definitely no personality, Yukine thought.

 Yukine sunk into the seat and picked up the quill and hovered over the parchment. After a moment he looked up and he spoke, still facing the wall. “What do I write?”

Another moment passed.

“’I must not tell lies’.”

Yukine felt his face heat up, red seeping into his vision. He gripped the quill tighter, fighting the urge to turn around and stab the quill tip into her neck.

“How many times?” Yukine asked through gritted teeth.

“Until the message sinks in.”

They would be here forever then. Yukine resolved himself to write the phrase over and over until she told him to stop, even if he was there until morning.

He would not admit defeat.

Yukine scratched the quill against the paper, and the crimson ink stained against the page.

I must not tell lies.

Yukine felt a stabbing pain on top of his left hand as he wrote the phrase. He ignored it and wrote the phrase again, and again, and again.

I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies.

The pain seared to a burning ache. He wrote it again, flexing his left hand as he did so in a bid to ease the cramp.

I must not tell lies.

Yukine’s eyes flicked to his hand. He dropped the quill and stared at his hand in disbelief. He looked over his shoulder at Professor Oshi who returned his shocked look with cold-hearted contempt.

“Carry on.”

Yukine looked back at the ink that had splattered on the parchment, and he realised it was his own blood. Five words were etched in his hand as if carved there by a scalpel.

I must not tell lies.