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cbk1000 · 8 months

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Still bored and not feeling great, so here is a follow-up preview to this post. It's been sitting in my Google Docs for quite some time, so might as well throw some of it up online.

It was raining furiously going out of Edinburgh, so that the Viaduct had to rise from the heath as if from the mists of time. In fair weather, or even in typical weather, those nebulous masses which one could presume to be hills nursed their heather by the light of the sun or the soon-to-be-sun; and when the weather had determined to be better than itself, the hillsides showed where the day set fire to the bluebell and ling, and exposed the shy moss in its bole. But now they were going as if through the Atlantic. It was wet, it was grey; and sporadically the mist broke its back on a peak, and showed, as if through some spume, where there was a world still anchored in earth. Then the fogs closed again, and they were alone in that dread, dead place between worlds, in the wastes of time or no-time.

Arthur was still related to Morgana, and still, consequently, drinking. He had had a little champagne first, and remembered that he didn’t fancy champagne; and it certainly didn’t fancy him. He was sat now on one of the sofas with some whiskey, feeling a little better in his stomach, though not his soul. He was still thinking about the bed. He was thinking that for seven unremitting nights, he would have to be elbowed, and kicked at, and drooled on: all of which Merlin had done before, somewhere in the jumbled mists of their uni years, when their backs did not care where, how, or when they slept, and fighting over a blanket on a floor was no worse than doing it at the Four Seasons. But at least he had had the privilege of going to the other end of the sofa, and sticking his feet in Merlin’s face, or to the far edge of the blanket, where he could put some space and decency between the inevitable phenomenon of being a man alive in the morning, and happy to see it. Now because Merlin was not thoughtful enough to take the armchair, or make himself some cosy nest on the floor, now because he had been working on his physique, Arthur would have to compress himself into an inadequate double with some shoulders almost as broad as his own. Now he would have to share, on his own personal holiday, his own personal bed, with a man not civilised enough to give up most of his allotment.

He was frowning out the window, and waiting for Scotland to do something lovely, when Merlin threw himself down onto the sofa with his own whiskey, and dropped his head back on the cushion. He had crowded in predictably, so that his knee was touching Arthur’s knee, in a rather ominous harbinger of what his nights were to be like from this day forward, unto eternity (Monday). He had got off his blazer already, and rolled up his sleeves, so that Arthur could see the muscles in his forearms, so that he could see the weedy uni mate who had had to make his way fighting larger men with his wit and rabies could now do it with his rather distastefully large hands.

“You’re not supposed to take off your jacket,” Arthur said. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Well, if they throw me off the Viaduct for violating the dress code, you’ll get the bed to yourself, yeah?” He nudged Arthur’s knee with his, and took a drink. “By the way, I’m going to bed at old man time tonight, and if you try and fight me over the bed, I will bite you. I’m so knackered.”

“Well, just remember, I sleep on the left, and if you take my side, you’re sleeping on the floor, one way or another.”

Merlin knocked their knees together again and drank. He looked away from Arthur, out the window; and there fell over them that silent existence which did something to the depths of Arthur. He left his knee where it was, where there was the small, warm point of human contact, in the desolate train hurtling in a desolate world to end or absolution. The whiskey had come up a little in his throat, and stopped where there was a lump to stop it. He had had the same human touch the rainy weekend in Cornwall, when he was alone on a planet of billions moving in time without him. He had to look from the window for a moment, to the stubbled face in profile, and hurt, for a moment, exquisitely. It is sometimes like that to love; though of course he would not have called it that, when there were a number of other terms less fraught or complimentary.

“You ok?” Merlin asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Ok. You pillock.”

“What do you want me to say, in front of a lounge full of passengers?”

“You could say ‘yes’ in a tone that actually sounds like you mean it, or you could say ‘no’, and we could go back to the cabin, and get pissed, or watch Netflix, or call your dad and tell him what an absolute cock he is. I can do it; you should keep not talking to him.” Then there was the little knock on his knee again, and Merlin said, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately.”

“I really didn’t notice,” Arthur said, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’ve been busy myself.”

“Oh, right, I forgot, every day when I called you whilst I was on lunch, you were like, ‘Merlin; Merlin…sorry, it’s not ringing a bell, mate.’”

“Well, you called me, so if you’re trying to accuse me of something lunatic, like missing you, it’s probably projection.”

“No, I didn’t miss you. Just wanted to make sure you had a voice to go with the hair doll.” He took another drink.

“It’s a voodoo doll, actually.”

“So you just sit in your room all day, sticking pins in me? Kinky.” Merlin snorted. “You are bright red.”

“I am not. And you can’t say ‘kinky’ on a luxury train.”

“If you can’t say ‘kinky’ where it will make rich people uncomfortable, what’s the point of saying it at all?”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

And now the teasing had gone from him, and he said, “Arthur,” quietly, and looked at him in the grey light of the window, and touched him, just long and gently enough, where there were no witnesses to ruin it.

“Yeah. Fine,” Arthur said, and Merlin clapped his knee with the hand he had laid briefly and feelingly on it, and said, “Ok, well, then we should get something settled. You are going to teach me how to eat dinner, right?”

Arthur rolled his eyes again. “You’ve never needed my help eating anything in your life. In fact, usually you stab me with your fork when I try.”

“Yeah, but there are going to be little spoons or something, and I’m going to have to use them in a specific order, and I’m going to have to eat the food in a specific order, and all whilst wearing a suit that I don’t want to muck up, because I paid fifty quid for it.”

“You only paid fifty quid for your suit?” Arthur cried. “For the whole suit? Did you get most of it from a skip?”

“I’m not going to just drop several hundred pounds on a suit I’m only going to wear a few times,” Merlin protested.

“You didn’t answer me about the skip,” Arthur said, setting aside the whiskey, which he did not have room to process, alongside his horror.

Dinner was got through with no mishaps but the mishaps Merlin had orchestrated; though he did have to ask Arthur whether he could eat the little flower on top of his salmon without dying.

“It’s a garnish, you plonker.”

Merlin pinched it between his fingers and held it up to the light to squint at it. “So can I eat it, or not?”

“You’re not meant to, though that’s never stopped you before.”

Merlin ate the flower, just to be gauche.

“Are you going to eat yours?” Gwaine asked Arthur, and helped himself to it before he could reply.

“You have my genetics, and hence could have pretty much any man you wanted, and this is your choice?” Arthur asked sourly, giving Morgana a nasty little look, and batting Gwaine’s hands away from his plate.

“Don’t malign me like that; I’ve only got half your genetics. Besides, it’s not like you’ve got yourself the Prince of Wales. No offence, Merlin,” she said, patting his hand, as if he would need to be consoled.

“None taken; he’s a twat,” Merlin said.

“Yes, but the difference is, Merlin and I are not a couple. So it doesn’t matter if he eats the garnish on his confit of salmon; it doesn’t reflect poorly on me, because I’m not shagging him where innocents can walk in on it.”

“If you had wanted to remain innocent, you should have knocked before walking into a flat that didn’t belong to you.”

“Who does that with the door unlocked?” Arthur demanded, whilst Gwen and Lance politely pretended they were not being involuntarily involved in someone else’s sex life, when they could have been off enjoying their own.

There was entertainment in the Observation Car, which Arthur, naturally, complained about.

“You sound like you have gout,” Merlin said.

“What on earth does gout have to do with anything?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing; you just sound like one of those old men who sits round complaining about all his old man ailments and never letting anyone else have any fun. ‘Oh, music, people laughing; just horrid. Horrid,’” Merlin mocked in a bratty voice.

“There might be bagpipes.”

“They’re not going to bring bagpipes on a train where people can’t escape them.”

“There were bagpipes when we were getting on the train,” Arthur said, frowning.

“There are bagpipes everywhere in Edinburgh,” Merlin replied, in a voice that stated, firmly, he thought Arthur was a great nattering twat baby. They adjourned (it did not seem appropriate to say they merely ‘went’ to a train car full of furniture worth more than his annual salary) to the Observation Car, which was now full of diners, and music. There were not any of the dread bagpipes, but only a lovely fiddle, going on impressively, whilst an elderly passenger clapped in time with it; or what the champagne told him was in time with it. He was wobbling about, in exactly the opposite spirit of Arthur, introducing himself to everyone, and twice to Morgana, who had got all the charm there was to be got from the Pendragon line, leaving none for Arthur.

Outside the window, Scotland was still rather miserable. Merlin had hoped to see those dreaming glimpses of the highlands, which were, or were felt to be, pure of humanity. The itinerary had promised him Ben Arthur and Loch Lomond, and he had fantasised making them into one of the walking tours, though he knew, intellectually, he would only glimpse them in passing. He had already made them in his heart a place for him and Arthur to be alone where aloneness has meaning; where it is a grand reckoning with that simultaneous infiniteness and finity of time. All that long month he had been caged in his office, seeing Arthur for brief intervals at the pub, or over FaceTime, whilst what was left of the wild country called to him; and now when he had expected to see it, at least, through the train window, streaming away into eternity, and taking with it his imagination into the secret dells and copses where there were fungi or larks to discover, what he saw was a desolate grey. He was looking at a smudge. Now and again there resolved out of it a larger smudge, more darkly or lightly coloured; and then even that feeble hope of scenery dissolved into that dreary badland which the British rain makes of the grasses which feed from it. If it were a nice little tropical rain, he could have marvelled at it, and counted the stalks of the gorse in the clean clear light of summer eternal; but here it was arse. Here he felt the train was having to invent the world as it drove along, into that great grey nothing out of which the trestle tracks sprang when they were needed, and vanished thereafter.

Arthur had got them some whiskeys, and sat them at the far end of the car, away from the musicians, and socialisation; so it was they two in the warm yellow light of the train, sitting too closely, because Arthur did not understand personal space; and especially he did not understand it when he had a mate, a very bisexual mate, who was trying to be romantically ignorant of him. Arthur was a great clueless lout, who blundered about in heterosexual infamy; and Merlin was tired. So they were sitting as close as boyfriends sat, and complaining about politics, whilst Merlin resisted sleep. He had that strange sensation of being unmade. He was as cosy on the sofa with Arthur as if he had been in bed; and so he was fraying, bit by bit, at the seams of his corporal body; he was in that state of confusion which the conscious mind feels when it is on the cusp of leaving itself. He was on the sofa, with his knee pressed to Arthur’s knee; but he was also beyond it, where dreams or half-dreams have carried their fuddled makers. He felt that he had been speaking one moment; and the next moment he was waking up on Arthur’s shoulder, in a puddle of drool.

Arthur had taken the whiskey out of his limp hand before he had spilled it, and was quietly going through his phone; though he pointed out, loudly, and quickly, before there was any confusion about his considerateness, about the drool, and pushed Merlin’s head.

They left the others to what was a very fine night of drinking, and dancing, and returned to the cabin for bed, at the humble hour of 8.00, because Merlin had been up since 4.00, and because Arthur, in the Observation Car, would have been in tremendous danger of having fun. They had to decide the order of their ablutions by playing rock, paper, scissors; or a revised version of it, which went something like rock, paper, fuck you, because they were both wanton cheaters, so that whatever was to be settled by it generally was settled by taking the ostensible winner, and shoving him into a wall, or kneeling on his back, till he agreed the other was a wanker; but a triumphant one.

Merlin was too tired for the usual order of business; he had to go for the truncated version. He smacked his fist three times into his palm: and turned whilst Arthur was mocking his loss, and sprinted for the loo.

“I’ll remember that,” Arthur said with cold promise when he emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

He put on his joggers after Arthur had disappeared into the bathroom, and got straightaway into the bed, with a little hope in his exhaustion, that he would be asleep before Arthur was even out of the loo, never mind in the bed. He was not as casual about the bed as he would have liked to be. He would have to wake up, practically in the arms of a man who was an egregious spooner, with his penis reporting for duty. He had shared an alarming number of sofas with Arthur in uni, and knew what was to be the next week of his life; it was to be horrid. Arthur would lie down very stiffly beside him, with a few pillows between them, which he had stacked like a wall between his heterosexuality, and Merlin; and then all those troubled instincts which he had for human touch would drive him to seek it. By morning the pillows would be gone; and Merlin would have both an erection, and the warm body in which it felt it could be sated. It was not polite to wank to one’s friends; and so he would have to lie, thinking of his grandmother, whilst Arthur twitched on or against him: and woke, with a snort, to say, “Why the hell are you cuddling me?”

For safety they had had to sleep head to foot; and he considered now rearranging the pillow at the other end of the bed, so that Arthur’s feet could work their incredible magic on Merlin’s morning wood. They were better than thinking of his grandmother; who after all was not despicable, but only his grandmother. But those were the old insecurities of men, almost boys, trying to make it understood that they were, in the one case, straight, and in the other, possessed of actual taste. It was no longer necessary, at thirty, to flaunt their obvious sexual disregard for one another. So he kept the pillow where it was, and determined to be an adult about it; and then Arthur came out of the bathroom in only a towel, as if he were not rather fit, and Merlin were not rather bisexual. And with the usual inconsiderateness of the hetero, he went round the whole cabin in it, with the water running out of his chest hair, and into his stomach hair.

#train fic #that's the only title i've got for this right now #lmao #merthur #fic #writing #preview

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 4 months

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Tess' Sharpuary - 10. Breakfast

Sweet brekafast is served in Hogwarts on Sunday, which is incredily popular with the students. A certain potions master appreciates so as well.

chapter specific tags: slice of life, fluff-ish, friendship

relationships: aesop sharp x reader (alluded to), aesop sharp & dinah hecat

10. Breakfast (1k)

tw: none

“Your lip, dear” said Dinah Hecat next to him, smiling into her cup of tea. Aesop used his fingers to wipe at his lips, quickly discovering that a dusting of fine sugar remained there from his meal. He licked the sugar from his digits unceremoniously, making his friend chuckle. “What?” he asked with a lifted brow but got no answer. Deciding not to focus on it too much, his hand reached for another scone. He brought it to his mouth and nose, breathing in its sweet smell before he proceeded to bite into the treat happily.

His eyes closed shut as flavour exploded on his tongue. The pastry itself was soft and incredibly fluffy, only lightly sweet, and sticking to the roof of his mouth somewhat. The generous filling of strawberry jam and whipped cream played a delicious symphony, the strawberry’s cheerfully wild sweetness mellowed by the airy, incredibly light and cool whipped cream, a hint of vanilla slowly creeping in and filling his senses. He wasn’t able to stop the deeply appreciative sound that hummed its way through his chest.

Dinah finally stopped pretending to read the Daily Prophet and turned to face him: “I swear to Merlin, Aesop, you’re looking forward to the sweet Sunday breakfast more than the students are!” Aesop chuckled but didn’t reply as his mouth was currently full of the sugary pastry. There was nothing quite like the Sunday breakfast at Hogwarts. It was served until ten o‘clock, so he had the luxury of sleeping in a bit, and most of the items weren’t usually served on any other day, as this amount of sugar was highly counterproductive to the students’ focus in class, the staff found.

Therefore, Sunday was something the majority of people in the castle looked forward to, the staff included. And Aesop, as Dinah liked to tease, most of all. However, that was just his sweet tooth, rather than any sort of aversion towards the goodies the house elves normally served them.

No full English breakfast could ever hold a candle to the breakfast readily available in the castle every day, and the smell of perfectly brown toast and eggs scrambled to perfection could be smelled long before one actually entered the Great Hall. It was enough to make many students visibly increase their pace in the morning, even those who looked like they were a mere pillow away from creating a make-do little nest right on one of the benches in the Viaduct courtyard and going right back to sleep.

It was a big change, having breakfast every single day. Back in his Auror days, Aesop scarcely had the time to make one in the morning before he had to go to work, and would maybe make some for himself on the weekend. After his injury, well, he did try to start his day off with at least a hard-boiled egg and toast, but usually just settled for a cup of tea. The firm routine of eating at Hogwarts actually forced him to exercise as much as he was able to with his maimed leg, as otherwise he’d be forced to enlarge his clothes. It took a while for him to adjust, but once he did, everything began feeling normal. Comfortable, actually.

“You make it look like you haven’t had anything sweet in years, not less than a day ago,” Dinah spoke, pulling him out of his thoughts. He washed his last bite down with several sips of tea and turned his head towards her once more: “Hm? How would you know? I don’t remember eating anything sweet here yesterday.” Dinah’s eyes held a mischievous sparkle as she rested her face on her hand, and Aesop immediately regretted saying anything.

“Maybe not here, but I saw one of my Ravenclaws ascending the stairs from the kitchens, and then going in the direction of Faculty Tower, rather than the Ravenclaw one. So I figured she was either sneaking you some sweets from the kitchen, or she went to see Noreen about an injury she received in the Hufflepuff common room. One, for some reason, feels slightly more probable than the other.” Aesop cleared his throat. Dinah’s perception was as brilliant as it was maddening, and she knew there was something more going on between him and the now Seventh-year Ravenclaw that met the eye… And it felt like she’s known so for longer than Aesop himself. Simply maddening. It was as if she was teasing him over an innocent school crush, absolutely nonchalant about the fact that this ‘crush’ was on one of their students…

Not to mention Aesop feared he was long past a mere crush…

“Just so you know, I do not ask her to sneak me sweets from the house elves,” he said instead, rather flatly and dumbly, prompting her to chuckle. The potions master willed his body from rushing blood into his cheeks, and his hand from crushing the scone and aking a mess of his robes. Merlin’s beard, if he was going to get this grilled every day after he’s had tea with the young woman, he might as well begin taking his breakfast in his room. Seeing just how often he met the girl and therefore provided Dinah with ammunition for further teasing, it might actually be a preferable solution. .

“I’m only teasing you a bit, dear, no need to get so defensive,” Dinah said, attempting to placate him as if she heard his little mental tirade, “just make sure you get some vegetables and meat inside your belly as well. Not even you can exist solely on scones and biscuits. I’m almost afraid to ask whether you’ve already tried so...”

The potions master couldn’t hold back a small chuckle of his own.

“Perhaps not,” he said, “but they work simply marvellously for breakfast.”

---

Thank you so much for reading ❤

[Ao3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #my art #fanfiction #reader insert #drawing #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #sharpuary #sharpuary 2024 #fanart #hogwarts legacy fanart #hogwarts legacy fanfiction

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hippogrifffeathers · 11 months

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Mentor Privileges

'What just happened?' 'I just got us out of trouble.' 'No, you just pulled an Ominis.' 'I what' 'Excuse me?' _ When Professor Weasley catches MC, Sebastian, and Ominis sneaking back into the castle after curfew, it seems like only one desperate move might keep them out of serious punishment. Except, before Ominis can even murmur a syllable about his family connections to the Headmaster, MC is speaking, claiming Professor Fig authorised their excursion, and it turns out there's another trump card among their ranks. Afterall, how could a professor argue with another professor?

ao3 link if you prefer!

Not two seconds after the grand doors to the main hall of Hogwarts had swung open, did the room echo with the sound of whispered bickering.

“You know, we could have gotten here a lot quicker if you two didn’t insist on flying the scenic route back.”

“How do you even know we took the scenic route? Not like you could see it .”

“I heard you talking about it Sebastian!”

“Would you both stop it?” MC hissed, voice barely above a whisper as they crept through the school entrance, large doors thankfully silent behind them. Seeing nobody in the entry hall, their posture relaxed, as they raised one hand to massage their neck, pouting, “Oh Merlin, we’re all going to fall asleep in class tomorrow, I’m exhausted .”

“That didn’t stop you from agreeing to fly out to Pitt-upon-Ford this afternoon, did it?” Ominis quipped, falling into step on their left. Sebastian quickly joined the pair, walking on their right.

MC rolled their eyes, a fond smile on their lips, “You both didn’t have to come with me, you know.”

That was ridiculous, of course they did. “Oh come on, like we were going to let you have all the fun.”

“I want it on the record that invading and destroying a Poacher camp isn’t my idea of fun.” Ominis rolled his eyes.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, “Does that mean you don’t want your share of the loot? Because I’ll gladly take it off your hands.”

“Paws off Sallow.”

“Yeah Sebastian, paws off." MC grinned, "If anyone gets Ominis’ share, it’s me, since I did most of the work.”

“Okay, first of all, nobody is getting my share because it’s mine , and second you only took most of them out because they were already targeting you. It’s a matter of access.”

“It’s a matter of excuses , Gaunt. Besides, I can’t help it if I’m popular.”

Sebastian raised one eyebrow mockingly, “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? Cute, and here I was thinking ‘there’s a price out for your capture’ had a nice ring to it.”

“ Funny . I’ll remember that one next time I come across old spellbooks in an Ashwinder camp and need to find them a home.”

Ominis paused momentarily, outraged, “You’ve been giving him what?”

Lost in their conversation, or perhaps the easy confidence that came with spotting no prefects scouting outside the Library doors, the trio didn’t think to cast any disillusionment or remain so vigilant as they crossed the Viaduct hall. Over the sound of their conversation, and the gentle lullaby from the nearby portrait, they fail to hear the click of footfalls until it’s too late, and they’re stopped in their tracks by a familiar, and very displeased, voice.

“And just where have you three been?”

… ”Merlin’s saggy left ball sack.” Ominis’ head turned sharply to right as MC subtly kicked Sebastian in the shin, hoping the already very-cross Professor Weasley didn’t hear his vulgar language, and schooled their expression into one that hopefully looked the picture of innocence as they spun on their heel to face her, Ominis and Sebastian mirroring their actions.

It took all their willpower not to immediately cower back.

She did not look happy, arms folded and her scowling expression may as well have been made of stone, carved with fury. Somehow, the Deputy Headmistress made pyjamas-with-a-cloak-over-the-top look intimidating.

MC bit back a wince as they took in that detail. Pyjamas. Oh, it was late late.

Sebastian turned on the charming schoolboy act, “Professor Weasley! We were just..ah, getting some late night studying done.”

“Oh? And does that studying involve flying Hippogriffs across the Black Lake ?” Sebastian tries not to deflate at being so clearly caught out, and readies himself to ignore the ice in their professor's tone, about to counter with what would undoubtedly be a cunning lie when she cuts him off, “Not another word. My office. Now .”

Wisely, the trio fall into silence, not daring to provoke the Deputy Headmistress any further.

They follow after the furious professor, turning their backs on the path back to their Common Rooms, wishing more than anything to be sneaking their way through the protected doorways and not walking across the chilly Transfiguration courtyard to certain doom.

Sebastian spares a look to his companions, the worrying crease in Ominis’ brow, the almost eerie calmness to MC, and wonders if they’re feeling the same edgings of dread as him.

Detentions and getting into trouble with professors were no strangers to him, but this was different than breaking a simple curfew or sneaking into the restricted section. This was weeks of detentions, points off, and letters-home levels of rule breaking.

Merlin, the last thing he needed right now was Uncle Solomon getting a letter from the school about Sebastian being off-grounds.

They’d been playing with fire this whole school year, especially himself and MC. Breaking into Loyalist Camps, exploring Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium and messing with Unforgivables, he supposed it was only a matter of time before they’d been caught- their luck had finally run out, and there was only one desperate card left to play that might save them from the bollocking of a lifetime.

It seemed Ominis was having the same thoughts, judging by the grim acceptance on his face, the stiffness of his demeanour- all part of ‘Gaunt Look’ that had gotten them out of serious trouble a few times too many in their earlier school years.

As they near the Transfiguration Classroom, Professor Weasley doesn’t even bother using magic to open the door, instead holding it open expectantly, her expression unwavering.

Before either of the boys can take the first step, MC takes the lead, head bowed slightly in a marker of shame that Sebastian can’t help but mirror as he follows in their footsteps, forced to confront the disapproving glare of their professor as he passes.

At least Ominis doesn’t have to deal with such awkward eye-contact.

Their footfalls echo through the empty classroom, empty desks seem to judge them as they walk past, only vaguely registering the door being shut behind them.

Ahead, MC’s steps have faltered slightly, the only show of hesitation they’ve demonstrated since the trio were caught. Sebastian is quick to take the lead, brushing MC's side in what he hopes is a reassuring move, as he makes a beeline for the door in the topmost corner.

The office is cool when they enter, the only light coming from embers dying on the fireplace and the pulsing red glow of Ominis’ wand. With the minimal amount of shuffling, the three line themselves up opposite the desk, MC once again in the middle, and wait.

Their silence persists as Professor Weasley follows into her office, re-igniting the fireplace with a wordless flick of her wand. The warm glow should be comforting, but against the dead black of night in the windows, and the way the shadows cast over the Professor’s glare deepen the appearance of her ire, it’s anything but.

She takes her time walking around them, letting her footsteps fill the silence of the room, before standing behind her desk, eyes on them all. For a moment, all she does is stare.

It’s an effort not to fidget under her gaze and act like the guilty students they very much are. Sebastian had never been one to worry about his appearance, least of all after a spirited fight or hippogriff journey, but he suddenly regretted not at least checking for any singed or blood-stained marks on his uniform before entering the Castle.

No , that worry was the exact kind of thing Professor Weasley was hoping her students would act on, more guilty admissions. He fought the urge to check.

Besides, if MC- who was decked out in one of their usual (and very flattering) adventuring outfits wasn’t concerned about looking suspicious, then surely he had no need to be.

Finally, the professor spoke, her tone icy cold, dripping with repressed anger. Even with the Gaunt-protection failsafe, Sebastian felt very unsafe.

“Three students out of school grounds, unauthorised, breaking curfew, I have never seen anything like it,” She seethed, and Sebastian wondered for a moment if they were about to witness their professor breathe fire, maybe being charred alive would be less painful than this , “What have you got to say for yourselves?”

A pause.

Sebastian’s eyes darted to the side, watching his friends carefully. MC hasn’t moved, not even the slightest fidget of their hands, while Ominis’ posture straightens even further as he opens his mouth, preparing to intervene with a smooth diversion and not-so subtly drop his family’s connections, get them out of here with as much showboating to the Headmaster as will be necessary.

But it’s not Ominis’ poised and perfected tenor that speaks next.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault, Professor. I asked for their help and we completely lost track of time.” MC sounded so sincere in their apology, their tone didn’t waver for a moment. Sebastian tries not to let his surprise register on his face, and sees Ominis do the same, momentarily jared from his earlier plan. What are they doing? “I was working on one of my catch-up assignments, for Professor Fig.”

Sebastian hopes he doesn’t look like this story is of any news to him, but judging from the way Professor Weasley’s gaze had narrowed in on MC, he needn’t have bothered.

“ Professor Fig gave you an assignment that requires you being off-grounds in the middle of the night?”

The lie sounded ludicrous even to Sebastian, no professor would ever assign a student homework that required leaving the Castle grounds, let alone to venture into the Highlands in their free time.

He should know, it had been a fight for him to be allowed to return to Feldcroft to see his sick sister during term time. There was no way MC genuinely thinks that Weasley is going to believe a fellow professor would let them leave the school so freely-

“Yes, Professor, he did. Staying out so late was an accident though.”

- Merlin, they are fucked.

Clearly, from the sudden tension in his frame, the slight upward turn of his eyebrows, Ominis feels the same way. The pair of them stand to either side of their friend, and wait for the lashing down to begin, for Professor Weasley to accuse them of thinking her to be so dim as to believe such an outrageous lie, to attempt to implicate another professor in whatever rule-breaking scheme they’ve concocted. Sebastian wonders if it's possible to intercept a Hogwarts Owl before it reaches Feldcroft- or maybe MC can do it for him, it’s the least they’ll owe him for provoking the professor like this.

Except, instead of a raised voice, threats of punishments and letters home, Professor Weasley only sighs, the fight leaving her body like a snidget on a Quidditch Pitch.

At the mention of the Professor of Magical Theory, something seemed to have changed in the Deputy Headmistress’ demeanour- it would have been funny to observe in any other situation. Her posture slouched slightly, as if suddenly overtaken by exhaustion, but the look in her eyes had become razor focused, a glint in them as she regarded MC.

Something had changed, and Sebastian longed to know what.

“What in Godric’s name is Elea-Professor Fig asking you to do, that requires you travelling away from the Castle?”

MC shrugged, the picture of casual honesty, which was jarring to watch when Sebastian knew they were being everything but, “Professor Fig emphasises real-world applications to enhance my understanding. I do have a lot to catch-up on.”

The counter didn’t seem to surprise Professor Weasley, almost as though she had been expecting such an argument. “Yes, he has mentioned as much. It would certainly be a more school-focused explanation for the rumours of your activities in local hamlets.”

There’s a tone of false lightness that Sebastian is familiar with- one of a Professor who knows more than they’re letting on, who is giving you the opportunity to come clean.

(Personally, it was one he’d never fallen for)

There’s so many rumours surrounding MC and where they go when they’re missing from the Castle- which is nearly all the time these days- that he can’t even begin to speculate about which ones have made their way to Hogwarts Staff.

MC doesn’t even appear phased by Professor Weasley’s suspicions, or the possibility that rumours of their more dangerous stunts have reached the ear of the faculty, “There’s so much still to learn, I’m lucky to have Professor Fig’s guidance in navigating my studies- it’s been very helpful.”

It’s such a perfect answer. The kind professors would expect from a dutiful, high-achieving student such as MC, one that might make them perk up with pride in their pupils.

Professor Weasley only narrows her eyes, and Sebastian suspects this isn’t the first time she’s heard MC pull such a line, “Indeed, you two are quite the pair.” Understatement , “Between your absences, and Professor Fig’s, it’s a miracle either of you still know your way around the Castle. Although, I suspect sneaking in late at night from your various, ah- assignments , is plenty of practice.”

Wow . Sebastian tries not to look too surprised at the subtle dig, unaware the Deputy Headmistress was capable of such underhandedness. Then again, Fig and MC had been sneaking about the Castle after curfew?

Perhaps in light of Fig’s involvement with MC’s restricted section mission, he shouldn’t be surprised.

MC had no such unawareness for the Deptuy Headmistress' tactics and continues, unphased, “Catching up on my studies is certainly a busy task, Professor. It’s true, we spend so much time learning new spells in Professor Fig’s classroom that I haven’t had much time to explore the castle yet.”

Sebastian wishes he had stood next to Ominis, if only to nudge his friend while they watched this conversation- no, interrogation unfold, see if Ominis had picked up on the same thing he had.

Whatever this was about, it clearly had absolutely nothing to do with tonight’s excursion.

“No? That’s a pity, Hogwarts is full of wonderful magic. Considering you’re excelling in your classes, I’m certain you can afford to take some time away. I never see you around the Castle, it seems you’ve made some good friends here, yet I seldom see you enjoying their company outside of studies. I'm concerned your, ah, extracurriculars are taking up all of your time.”

It felt like the world’s longest, most confusing exploding snap game, two players taking it in turns to put a card down- except all the cards were blank and Sebastian didn’t know what would happen if there was a match.

“I have plenty of time to enjoy school, Professor, and have fun with my friends- everyone’s been so supportive in helping me learn more about magic.”

MC hadn’t provided any specifics, Sebastian wasn’t remiss to notice. It really was an entirely new level of vague- even for them, who had entered Hogwarts surrounded by mystery and cloaked in secrets, and hadn’t changed much about that impression since they got here.

He wondered why MC was so hesitant to elaborate- was it a hesitation to share anything with Professor Weasley, or did they really not have many examples of ‘fun’ times at Hogwarts, that didn’t include danger or rule-breaking? Come to think of it, when had he and MC done anything together that didn’t include danger or rule-breaking?

Merlin, he’d make them relax even if it killed them. Drag them out for a fun day at Hogsmeade where they were banned from helping any locals retrieve their spare robes or whatever ridiculous request they’d force on his friend.

Although, that had been their plan for today- and look how well it turned out.

“I wonder, what academic prospects could have drawn yourself and Professor Fig all the way to Feldcroft?” Despite himself, Sebastian jolts at the mention of his home, and from his periphery he sees Ominis’ head snap to the side to stare in his direction, questioning. “It is a rather dangerous area, you know, I’m sure Mister Sallow can attest to the current occupation of Goblin Loyalists in the Hamlet.”

Professor Fig and MC, in Feldcroft? He’d heard some rumours, of course, but this was all but confirming it as true- especially as he saw MC momentarily falter at the direct questioning.

Questions burst forth in the back of his mind, irritation pricked at his skin with the knowledge they hadn’t told him - Sebastian of all people, what they’d been doing back in Feldcroft, without him and with Professor Fig no less. He endeavoured to ask them, later.

MC quickly regains their composure, hands folded delicately at their front, and tilts their head to the side inquisitively, “Is it? Professor Fig was showing me some ruins ,” Fractionally, the corner of MC’s lip curled, a flicker of amusement they quickly squashed, “We didn’t come across any trouble, certainly no Goblin Loyalists. We are always very safe when we leave the castle.”

Now that Sebastian knew was a bold-faced lie. MC hadn’t told him everything they and the enigmatic Professor got up to, but they’d shared enough about their pursuit of Ancient Magic knowledge and Ranrok. Whatever the pair got up to when they were absent from the castle, it was far from safe .

Judging by Professor Weasley’s unwavering expression, the stone cold doubt and suspicion written clearly across her features, she shared the same sentiments.

“I see, so yours and Professor Fig’s trips away from the Castle have absolutely nothing to do with the reason your mentor has been spending so much time in contact with the Ministry lately? Particuarly, the Auror Department and the Minister himself?”

That was news to Sebastian, and not for the first time in this coversation he wondered if Professor Weasley had forgotten he and Ominis were here too.

As if feeling the weight of his friend’s gaze on him, Ominis tilted his head in Sebastian’s direction and gave a small shake of his head, before staring fixedly down at MC.

One thing's for certain, they weren’t letting MC get away with not answering their questions as easily as they seem to be Professor Weasley’s.

Honestly, Sebastian was tempted to take notes on their artful evasions, his old tricks with the faculty were getting….well… old .

“I wouldn’t know, Professor.” MC shrugged, “Professor Fig doesn’t talk about his work outside of our tutoring sessions,” Then, as if realising some lies were too obvious for even them to get away with, “The Headmaster sent him to the Ministry a few times earlier this year, perhaps Professor Fig is in contact with them on orders of Professor Black.”

Did they really just bring the Headmaster into this?

Either this whole topic went a lot deeper than either of them thought, or MC is pulling all the strings to get out of this tense exchange.

The funniest part was that it was working.

Bringing up the Headmaster seemed to snap the final thread of Professor Weasley’s patience, and suddenly she seemed exhausted, grimly accepting of the fact that clearly she would be getting no answers out of MC tonight.

“I see, well it’s already very late and you all have classes in the morning,” She sighs, before pulling her shoulders back, still the picture of staunch authority you wouldn’t dare cross, “You’re free to go, but don’t think I won’t be speaking with Professor Fig to confirm your story,” At this, Sebastian sends a panicked look MC’s way but they don’t notice, eyes only on Professor Weasley as she continues, “That said, I am still taking twenty points from each of you, and if this happens again I won’t be so lenient- 'assignment' from Professor Fig or not.”

MC still doesn’t appear worried, not as much as they should be- given they absolutely will be doing this again. Then again, Sebastian and Ominis weren’t any better.

Still, they all had the courtesy to look abashed, and ducked their heads, echoes of their ‘thank you professor’, ‘sorry professor’-s following them out of the Deputy Headmistress’ office, and away from her disapproving glare.

Seconds later, the door swings shut behind them with an echoing ‘thud’, and Sebastian whirls on MC, but before he can speak, there’s a hand over his mouth. Over MC’s shoulder, Ominis looks distinctly amused.

“Not here.” MC whispers, with a knowing tilt of their head in the direction of the office they had just left. Then their hand drifts from from Sebastian’s mouth to wrap around his wrist, mirroring the same action with Ominis, as MC pulls them both away from eavesdropping range.

Feeling MC’s warm grip on his, Sebastian praises himself for not licking their hand earlier when they silenced him. This was much more satisfying.

They don’t stop until they hit an alcove just to the side of the Main Hall entryway, hidden from view but the perfect spot to detect Professors on the pry.

“I cannot believe we got away with that.” Sebastian grinned, revelling in the adrenaline rush that always came with getting out of trouble punishment-free. He takes a moment for them all to bask in the easy way they had all just avoided what could have been a nasty punishment, before his attentions turn to the mastermind of their escape, looking quite smug with themselves, “So, make a habit of lying to the Deputy Headmistress, do we?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” MC retorted cheekily, but their wide smile was a giveaway against their words, just as quickly dropping the faux-denial, “Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

They punctuate their words with a knowing poke at his shoulder, and he doesn’t deny it.

“Please, like you had any doubts. You could have warned us you had a plan!”

“Funny, that doesn’t sound like ‘wow thanks for getting us out of trouble MC, you’re such a good friend MC, to show my gratitude I’m going to write your potions essay next week MC!’ ”

“Even if I was going to thank you for nearly gaslighting our Deputy Headmistress- artfully done by the way- I certainly won’t be writing your potions essay for you.”

MC grinned, “Good, I didn’t mean you, I meant Ominis. His potions essays are way better, plus he never leaves it till the last minute.”

“Don't even try it, MC, flattery won’t work on me.” The pleased flush to Ominis’ cheeks said otherwise, but nobody was about to point that out, “But I at least am grateful for your intervention. I wasn’t looking forward to using my family name to get us out of trouble.” His nose scrunched at the thought.

“It was almost comical, the way Weasley immediately dropped it and all you had mentioned was-“ The realisation struck Sebastian like lightning, a wide grin threatening to split his face, “Oh Merlin- you pulled an Ominis!”

“I what?” “Excuse me?”

Not getting the hint from Ominis’ outraged expression, or simply not caring, Sebastian continued, “You pulled an Ominis! All you had to do was drop Professor Fig’s name and we were never getting into trouble! I can’t believe there’s two of you now!”

“We are not calling it ‘pulling an Ominis ’ for Merlin’s sake Sebastian!” Ominis hissed, looking thoroughly displeased about the expression, and Sebastian immediately endeavoured to add it to his vocabulary from now on, “That said, I was surprised at how effective it was.”

“I didn’t…I mean….it wasn't like that!” MC stared between the pair, lost in the sudden direction their conversation was taking. Sebastian continues rambling, grin growing in his face.

“What do we even call that? Is it still family privileges or… mentor privileges? Playing favourites? I mean, half the school thinks you're both secretly related anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter-”

MC’s mouth dropped open, “Half the school thinks what?”

“Weasley was right, you need to get about the Castle more if you haven’t heard that one yet, it’s old news at this point.” Sebastian waved it off, like the fact half the school was gossiping about MC was nothing. Maybe it was, it’s not like they got involved in school gossip enough to have a comparison point.

Ominis frowned, “Speaking of Professor Fig, it’s all fair and well to name drop him like that, but what happens when Professor Weasley actually does go to him to confirm your story? She’s going to find out we lied.” He can’t help the worry from bleeding into his tone, and Sebastian frowns at the reminder of the hole in MC’s plan. At most, they’ve been bought time, and the punishment could end up being so much worse if Weasley finds out they deceived her.

To the boys’ shared surprise, MC chuckles lightly, shaking their head, as if their friends had missed some huge point. “She won’t- I’ll be surprised if she even talks to Professor Fig about it.” Okay, they were definitely missing something, by the knowing tone in MC’s voice, “Even if she does, he’ll cover for us, so don’t worry about it.”

They sounded so assured about exactly how this would all play out, the staff dynamics at work here- Sebastian and Ominis longed to question them further on it.

That easy confidence that Professor Fig would lie to one of his colleagues for them, covering up serious rule-breaking with no questions asked? The Professor of Magical Theory was known for being somewhat enigmatic and mysterious, someone with so much practical skills for a supposed expert in theoretical knowledge, but the idea of a professor blindly covering for a student was too much, even for him.

Then again, MC wasn’t exactly ‘just a student’. Not if the pair were sneaking out of the Castle and being spotted near Goblin Loyalists areas, of all places. Deceiving all the other professors, telling lies to cover one another’s backs- because that had been the other side of this, Professor Fig wouldn’t be the only one lying to the Deputy Headmistress to protect another.

“He’ll cover for us, like you covered for him in Professor Weasley’s office, you mean?” Ominis felt the pieces falling into place. “His contact with the Ministry has nothing to do with the Headmaster, does it?”

MC grinned, shrugging lightly, “I mean, technically that wasn’t a complete lie- Black did send him on fools errands to the Ministry at the start of term, as some sort of ridiculous punishment for what happened on our journey here.” Bitterness bled into their tone slightly at the memory, and Ominis couldn’t quite blame them. Being attacked by a dragon was hardly something you could control. MC’s tone brightened as they kept talking, an edging of mischief creeping in, “But since then? No, it’s got nothing to do with the Headmaster, but I doubt Professor Weasley is going to question it.”

He wonders what it’s actually got to do with, but this wasn’t the time to ask them about that.

“It’s no wonder Weasley looked so tired, you’re both menaces .” Sebastian laughed.

“Oh like you’re both any better, Misters ‘I have a way with the faculty’ and ‘My father is friends with the Headmaster’. I didn’t stand a chance at having good influences around me.” MC playfully rolled their eyes, recalling the fact that they weren’t the only ones who had their ways of getting out of trouble.

Sebastian whirled on Ominis, seemingly choking down another laugh, “You did not say that to them.”

“Oh, be quiet. Both of you.” Ominis wasn’t pouting, he wasn’t, “Besides, don’t turn us into your excuses, sounds like you’ve been lying to the faculty well before we became friends.”

“I prefer to think of it as keeping a few secrets. Not lying, just not telling the whole truth.”

Ominis couldn’t bite down on the smile their antics caused, and hoped a small head shake would hide his fond amusement, “That’s called lying, MC.”

“Semantics.”

They were so casual about it. From the moment Professor Weasley had begun with her vague-yet-intense questioning, MC had obfuscated and dismissed her every suspicion with a shamelessly vague answer, hadn’t shown weakness for even a moment, and now they stood joking about the whole affair, like lying and keeping dangerous secrets from professors was an everyday activity.

Well, for MC, they supposed it was.

Then again, given their recent exploits, perhaps Ominis and Sebastian were not in a place to cast judgement.

Merlin, what a group they made.

“I’ll admit, it was surprising how much Professor Weasley knew,” MC confessed, the edgings of worry outlining their now furrowed brows, “I honestly didn’t think she was paying that much attention, I knew she’d been keeping her eye on us but…where does she get her information?” Their gaze drifted off in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom, worrying at their lip as they thought.

“You see, it’s this magical thing called ‘The Hogwarts Rumour Mill’- you’d know what that was if you actually spent any time playing normal student, you know.” Sebastian mocked, and delighted in the way his teasing interrupted whatever journey into overthinking MC had stepped into, as their face playfully scrunched up in confusion.

“‘Normal Hogwarts student’? Like ‘student who learns non-curriculum spells in a super secret undercroft’ or ‘student who picks fights with goblin loyalists and poachers’?”

“Hey, I never said we were normal Hogwarts students.”

MC grinned, gently knocking against Sebastian and Ominis’ shoulders, “I suppose that’s why we all get along so well.”

Sebastian’s expression softened as he registered their affection, warm fondness spreading across his features, “I suppose it is.”

For a moment, they all stay like that, three students hidden behind a corner of the Transfiguration courtyard, packed so tight their arms press against each other, warm with the rush of their evening adventures, and share in the peace they so seldom get to appreciate.

How fortunate they all were, to have found each other.

“It’s getting late, we should be heading back.” Ominis’ voice breaks through the quiet, sounding almost regretful to have done so, as the warm press of his friends was stripped from him, replaced with the bitterness of the outdoor air.

Lightly, MC laughs, and takes the lead to start walking back towards the Viaduct hall, Sebastian and Ominis at their side, “I think we went past ‘getting late’ flying over Upper Hogsfield, but you won’t hear me complaining about getting some sleep- even if it is just a few hours.”

“Better than nothing, and we always have History of Magic to get some extra sleep in.” MC hummed in agreement, Ominis smiling already at the prospect, their shared naps during the notoriously dull class has admittedly become something of a highlight in his school curriculum. A few hours where he knows he’ll sleep unhaunted (mentally at least) and utterly at ease.

“Oh do rub it in, why don’t you?”

“It’s not our fault you didn’t take History of Magic, Sebastian.”

The walk back was over far too quickly, light taunts becoming wishes of well rest and promises to meet again at breakfast, as they parted ways- finally laying rest to the evening’s events.

______________________________________

MC’s promise proved to be good and true, when the trio managed to make it through their first class of the day without being summoned by Professor Weasley for a sequel to the previous night’s ‘punishment’. Whether the Deputy Headmistress had actually confronted Professor Fig about MC’s claims remained a mystery for the entire morning, however by midday, Sebastian was starting to have his suspicions that Professor Weasley had at least been talking to someone about his, MC, and Ominis’ out-of-grounds escapade.

“Is it just me, or are the other professors…watching us?”

“Sebastian, think for a moment about who you’re talking to, then ask me that again.” Ominis rolled his eyes, completely oblivious to the dubious look Professor Hecat had been giving them with all class.

“Oh right, sorry,” He cast a quick look to the Defense Professor, and when she wasn’t facing the class, he elaborated, “Since this morning, it’s like every Professor we see is expecting us to do something wrong, waiting to catch us out. Hecat’s been looking at us like a Kneazle to a Sneakosope since we walked in here.”

“Well, we were caught breaking curfew last night, Sebastian.”

“This is different! All the times I’ve been caught breaking the rules, not once have the staff watched me like this. I feel guilty and I haven’t even done anything yet.”

They didn’t get an answer for their suspicions until after class, making their way through the Tower, MC now joining the duo at their side. Lost in conversation, they almost didn’t spot the Professor until it was too late, side stepping just as Professor Fig rounded the stairs.

It wasn’t uncommon to see the Magical Theory Professor, but he was renowned for his elusiveness- Sebastian would know, he’d tried to talk to the Professor on several occasions last year as he searched for a cure for Anne, but Fig had always been too busy to stick around for long.

Despite himself, and MC’s earlier reassurances Fig wouldn’t be upset his name came up the previous night, his heart hammered in his chest, and from the corner of his eye Sebastian spotted Ominis’ posture stiffen, as he so often would whenever they were about to get scolded by a Professor.

They waited for the gentle expression to fall into one of disappointment, or anger, for the reprimand they knew would be coming.

MC too, had changed, but in notable contrast to their friends they brightened up, energised to see the Professor- and Sebastian supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that the fondness was reciprocated. What he was surprised by was how Fig’s warmth extended to their friends, greeting them all cheerfully.

“Ah, MC! Mister Sallow, Mister Gaunt, good morning!”

Momentarily taken aback by the unexpected friendliness of his tone, one which they absolutely hadn’t anticipated after using him as a get-out-of-punishment-free pass the night before, they were delayed in wishing him a good morning back, compared to MC’s spirited response, “Morning, Professor Fig! Are you on your way back to your office?”

It was kind of cute, the way they perked up in Fig’s presence.

“I am, and I suppose you’re all off for lunch?”

“Actually, if you have some free time, I was wondering…”

Fig smiled, understanding, “My door is always open, come, I’ll have some sandwiches delivered! I had a very interesting meeting with Professor Weasley this morning, perhaps you can catch me up on the finer details of yours and Misters Sallow and Gaunt’s excusion while we’re there.”

Ominis startled, “Ah, yes, Professor, about that-”

“I’m afraid I can’t award points, Professor Weasley might have my head, Mister Gaunt- even if it would be well deserved!” Fig is quick to interrupt whatever apology Ominis had been about to offer, a sly smile on his face- one that strongly reminded Sebastian of MC’s expression after they had gotten out of Weasley’s office the night before, “I am glad MC has such supportive friends to help them with their studies, excellent work boys!”

Fig caught Sebastian’s eye and gave both himself and Ominis a knowing wink before continuing on towards his classroom, MC falling into step beside him easily, the pair immediately locked into a lighthearted conversation. Sebastian and Ominis stayed put for a moment, baffled by the casual interaction.

Ominis spoke first, “Did he just….”

“Yep.” He’d definitely covered for them, had seemed amused by it, no less.

Not a word was mentioned about last night’s escapades, no dubious look thrown their way like the rest of his colleagues had been doing all morning. Instead, all there had been was immediate recognition as he crossed paths with the trio, even though he hadn’t taught two of the three pupils in years, and a wink.

Suddenly, they had the sneaking suspicion they were in on some sort of conspiracy.

“Good morning, Professor Hecat!”

“Good morning, Professor Fig, good to see you about the Castle.”

Sebastian and Ominis jump at the voice, turning around to see Hecat at the top of the stairs, where she had no doubt just watched the four crossing paths, the spirited exchange before Fig and MC had whisked away.

Suddenly, the professors’ earlier attitudes towards himself and Ominis made a lot more sense, and Sebastian suspected that Professor Weasley wasn’t the only one who had her suspicions about MC and Professor Fig’s extracurriculars.

And, if the way they had been keeping an eye on him and Ominis was anything to go by, the staff’s conspiracy had just gained two new suspects.

“Ominis, I think we’ve become accomplices.”

#hogwarts legacy #my fics #me? writing something that ISN'T angst?? oh it's been y e a r s #this was supposed to be a fun nonsense no plot fic but how has a no plot fic got 6k words?#mc #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #between these three i'm convinced they're able to get out of just about any trouble with the staff rip hogwarts faculty's patience #matilda weasley #eleazar fig #pov you and your mentor are the same breed of menace #to procrastinate on editing this fic i wrote another fic #and now i'm procrastinating on editing THAT fic by posting this one #the circle of writing i guess :)))))))

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roohuh · 1 year

Text

I Want to Show You Something

Ominis x MC

Part 12 of the Obliviate Series

Summary: Ominis takes you on an adventure to give you a surprise.

Warnings: 18+ adult content

“I want to show you something” Ominis leans in close to your ear at the breakfast table. You had been slightly avoiding him after your detention with his older brother. It was not that you did not want to tell him you just knew he would worry and you were afraid he would not let you pursue getting your memories back this way. Shuddering at the sensation of Ominis breath on your neck you reply a soft,

“Yes?”

“ You will have to skip your morning classes. Are you feeling adventurous?” Flashing a smile, you blush as your eyes dart to Ominis. Sebastian who is sat across from you throws a roll at the back of Ominis head.

“No dirty talk at the table!” Hands flying into the air you scoot away on the bench.

“That is not what we were doing!” You defend

“Don’t be stupid Sebastian.” Ominis says cooly, picking up the roll off the floor. Standing he offerirs you an arm.

“Shall we?” Swiping a muffin as you take his arm you let Ominis lead you out of the great hall. The two of you quietly walk out to the viaduct courtyard. When he stops you look around bewildered.

“What is it you need to show me?”

“Close your eyes and take my hands.” You obey the orders.

“Ready?” He whispers in your ear. Before you can reply you feel an immense pressure around you from all sides. Everything goes black as you feel as if you are being sucked into a hole located in your stomach. Then a soft morning breeze perfumed with wild flowers. Opening your eyes you suck in a sharp breath. You are standing in front of a large beautiful old building on top of a cliff overlooking a rocky coast line. The building is sturdy but very neglected most of the roof being caved in long ago. Behind you are gravestones covered in wildflowers. You stand breathless for a moment taking in the lovely place. Ominis smiles at you listening intently to your amazement.

“How did you learn to Apparate? Where are we?” Gripping Ominis hands which you still had not released, you batter him with questions.

“This summer Sebastian and I worked for a farmer in Fieldcroft. I did not tell you about it so that I could surprise you.”

“Color me surprised! You worked for a farmer!” You laugh attempting to picture Ominis up to his elbows in dirt.

“I quite enjoyed the work I will have you know and it was much more rewarding knowing what I was working towards.”

“And what were you working towards?”

“This.” He smiles. Confused you look around as you breathe,

“What?”

“I bought this house… for you.” Eyes going wide you stare at Ominis. The lack of response causes him to panic.

“I’m sorry it was presumptuous of me. I…” you cut him off,

“It’s perfect.” Eyes lighting up he takes your face and kisses you.

“Just wait until Sebastian and I get this place fixed up.” He says guiding you around the building. Leading you down some stone steps Ominis shows you an ancient astronomy table. Animatedly he points out all of his plans around the property. He shows you a small stone building which is detached from the main house where you can keep your vivariums. Then he leads you to a patch he has cleared where he thought you would like to plant a garden. He trips over one of the many chickens who had taken up residence there.

“We will have to make a pen for this lot.” You giggle helping him back to his feet. As you walk into the main building Ominis calls your attention to where he and Sebastian had started at some mason work.

“How did you ever find this place?” You marvel

“We found it together.” He chuckles.

“We did? How?”

“You were following a treasure map when it started to pour buckets of rain on us so we took shelter under what was left of the roof. That was the first night we… Well, it was the first night we spent together.” You wander round the room trying to picture that night. Your eyes land on Ominis. He is leaned against the wall a content smile resting on his lips. You note how different he now looks from your regained memory of your first meeting. He looks like a man now, towering over you with bored shoulders and an easy smile reserved just for you. You blush picturing that easy smile in an intimate moment. Hesitantly you turn to Ominis and ask

“What was it like?” Ominis crosses the room taking you in an embrace he kisses your forehead and whispers.

“It was perfect.”

“Perfect is a high bar.” You mumble. His hands gently explore your curves.

“You are perfect.” His low voice rasps on your ear. He draws you into a passionate kiss and you start to lose yourself in the heat of the moment. Hands gently tug at your shirt untucking it from your waistline. His cold fingers caress your soft skin, sending a jolt of energy through your body. He chuckles at your movement and kisses your neck. The contact causes a small moan to escape your lips. Then a pang of guilt hits you in the chest. Trying to ignore it you press into Ominis embrace but quickly give up and sit on the floor. Breathlessly you whisper his name.

“I am sorry I did not mean to press myself upon you.” He apologizes sitting next to you. You shake your head

“No it’s not that. I just have to tell you something.”

“And it could not wait?”

“I remember meeting you.”

“What? That’s tremendous! When did you remember?” He grabs you by the shoulders in excitement. You feel small wishing you had just told him right away. After recounting your denentention with his elder brother; trying your best to downplay the event you watch Ominis icy expression. The silence is deafening as you wait for his response.

“Why did it take you so long to tell me?” His voice is quiet.

“I don’t know. I was worried you would be upset.” You mutter making an effort to keep your voice even. Scooting close he takes you in his lap and pressed his face into the back of your hair. You both sit there silently for a while as he breathes in your scent,

“The three years I’ve known you and your hair never fails to smell like lavender.”

“That so?” You giggle. Kissing the top of your head he murmurs

“I love you. Thank you for telling me this only works if we are honest with each other.” Turning around you bury your face into his chest.

“I love you too.” You confide to his tie. He jolts in excitement.

“Say it again” his voice is pleading.

“I love you.” You repeat. A soft kiss is planted on your shoulder.

“I love you.” You say again. The next kiss is on your neck.

“I love you.” This time hands move from your waist to your face and you are pulled into a deep hungry longing kiss.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Based on a place I found in the game. It’s so beautiful I can not help but want to live there.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x you #harry potter hogwarts game #ominis fluff #fanfic #sebastian sallow

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little-lazuli · 4 days

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@going-back-to-505-artic-monkeys just wanted to say thank you again so much for liking my au, it really is sweet to see someone enjoy the world I created <3

how do theo, Tracey and astoria die? How old were they?

Theo and Tracey both die fighting against Theo’s father whom plays a pretty big role in Theo’s own character arc because he’s caught between loving the man versus loving the world he has created for himself that his father will never approve of. Theo dies after throwing himself in front of his father whilst Tracey struggled against him in their duel during the Battle for Hogwarts. Tracey though defeating Mr. Nott, she succumbs to her injuries, dying in Theo’s arms. Astoria is butchered by Fenrir during the battle. Theo and Tracey were both seventeen while Astoria was fifteen

And how do daphne and Ron react??

Ron saves Fred and Percy from the exploding corridor, apparating them out of the corridor but splinching himself in the process. Despite this, Ron still puts up a defense against Rookwood and Bellatrix until Bellatrix is able to strike him down, shooting him with a strong blasting curse that leaves a crater in his place. What everyone failed to see was how Daphne apparated to him in the last few seconds, grabbing him and apparating once more away from the explosion, leaving only Ron’s wand and a crater in its place.

This left Ron incapacitated for the rest of the Battle, forcing Daphne to try and just stop the bleeding from an unconscious Ron before returning to battle. She was the one to find Theo and Tracey’s bodies in the halls near the Clock Tower courtyard and Astoria’s body near the Viaduct. Daphne nearly had a mental break, her sister, her cousin (brother in all but blood) and her best friend were dead with her love on death’s threshold, it was the mere fact Ron was still breathing that kept her grounded enough to stay sane to survive the day. The war had stolen everyone from her and she had to pray and believe that it wouldn’t take Ron from her too.

Ron was devastated at the news, blaming himself for not fighting the entire battle so that he could have protected any of them, especially Astoria.

#lazuli answers

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cjwritesforyou · 2 months

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Rain Angels

4-Page Short Story

“O rain, pouring rain!” Leaping into the air, crashing back down to the ground. Now flat on my back and sprawled out spread-eagle on the asphalt. Making rain angels like a kid—a kid that never made a snow angel before, but always imagined it would be just like this but freezing and more snow and more fun. There would be lots of snow. There would be snow deeper than I could stand where snow would be. Where rain would be—here, always here, forever—there was enough of it, but not so much that it could ever quite possibly replicate that white-stuffed-fluff. There was no snow here. Just rain.

The highway came alive tonight, surreal like the first time I walked the length of it. The feeling in the air, the wind, was the same. The feeling that kept me coming back night after night. It was lovely—it really was—but something about this night in particular didn’t sit right in my stomach, despite nostalgia.

Suddenly—a scream. The shriek pierced my ears and my night—ruined in a way I never could have expected. It startled me, and I would have jumped, if not for the weather. The voice wasn’t stopping. It continued crying out, a wail you expected to hear faintly miles away, howling against the dark. It wasn't a pretty voice. It was ugly. It cracked and groaned pathetically. Still it persisted, a matter of time between losing voice or breath. To say the voice was nearby would be an under exaggeration; I peeked up from my artistry to see a silhouette propped up against the outside railing of the freeway bridge. A gaping cavern flooded with forestry draped beneath the viaduct’s arches, like crumbled chandeliers. I imagined what the beautiful scenery below might look like with bright beaming light, which would illuminate each crevice flawlessly. I would have enjoyed the view, but the hour never permitted anything more than darkness. A little moonlight, even a crescent could suffice. On this night, of all nights, not even a spot would show. Not for its darkest hour.

Below, spectacularly towering trees conjured unsettling rustles of wildlife, resonating with the wind’s nudge. Breezes weren’t forceful yet, but rather suggestive. The screaming persisted. Then the voice’s tone grew stronger, and the wind began to flare. Nature assembled in conjunction, orchestrated. A drizzle became a rain, a shower, then a downpour, a hailing hurricane, slammed me to the ground. Tightly. Suffocating. I gasped for breath, wheezed, hyperventilated. The scream roared in the night sky. I processed the noise with what consciousness remained. Seeing below my own torso wasn’t manageable beneath the shield of rainfall. A certain fog of water had encapsulated my body like armor—an armor which seemingly protected me, but not from anyone else. Although I could no longer see the voice’s maker, I knew it still existed, had to exist, for it berated the air, pierced the atmosphere, right before me.

The voice’s tone altered, slightly weakened. I tried tilting my head up at the highway I knew existed, but could not see. I considered my route home. It instigated unease. In such a state, I figured fighting this force was unnecessary. It was uncomfortable. And here I lie, pinned to the pavement, middle of the night-morning, with my rain angels, hoping, not for the storm to cease (because it never does entirely) but to ease up, to let me through. I wasn’t one to pick a fight with nature. The speaker softened steadily. Pressure that weighed me down allieviated. The rain died down. The voice relieved itself, as did the weather. I was released from the floor. Only a small drizzle remained from prior. The figure returned to view, now misplaced in its surroundings, lacking a sheet of water to hide behind. I heard crying as I regained control of myself.

That’s when I considered the voice. I pondered the nature of the voice. I thought about what the voice was doing there, how the voice got there. But it pained me the most as to why the voice existed in the first place. Right here, right now, for what reason? For what purpose?

I sat up, cupped my hands around my mouth like a cone, and howled an outrageous screech. Startled, the figure scanned for an origin. Finding me, flat on the pavement, wasn’t difficult, but drew sensible confusion. The voice was about to speak again, but I took initiative, rose up now, and closed the distance between us. I stopped a few persons length before the figure, and the face followed me thoroughly, looked me up and down, then spun back to face away, to smear the tears.

“You gonna go?” I said, “You gonna jump?”

“Is that what it looks like?” the voice asked, nervously.

“What a stupid fucking question,” I said, waiting for a reaction. The voice said nothing. I waited a little longer, still nothing. I continued:

“If it looked that way—then there wouldn’t be anything to see here at all. There would be no need for explanation. It doesn’t matter what it looks like unless it’s real. I would go about my day, and you would not. And everything would stay the way it normally is. If you’re gonna do it, do it. Stop just fucking standing there. Whining and crying and all that. I hate people like you–attention whores.”

I could no longer hear the rain, nor could I hear my own voice. My heart swelled, then exploded, pounded louder than an engine. My words would lose power, would lose weight, if my inwardness persisted. I tried to stay confident, the way my mom taught me. I noticed cuts on the body, and that calmed me down for some reason. They were scattered all over the body in front of me—the kind of cuts you normally never see. Normally hidden under layers of covering, but were visible tonight, like they wanted to be displayed.

“Are you angry?” the voice said.

“Aren’t you freezing?” I replied.

“Does it even matter?” The voice said.

“Obviously it matters.”

“But if I were gone?” an arm emerged and pointed down below, “If I were down there, would it matter?”

“If you’re cold, you’re cold,” I said.

“And if I went, it wouldn’t matter. I would be down there. You would be up here. What’s the difference, really? Cold. Warm. What could you care if I’m cold?”

“What could you care?” I remembered my mom screaming, my dad face to face with her. He was drunk again, always was. I was conditioned to avoid it over time, staying in my room, away from him just as my mom told me. He never came into my room, or ever leave the living room, where he slept, smoked, and drank. I had seen her boiled up before, but not as much as this night.

We drove home from my school recital that night and I had a big grin of satisfaction and relief on my face. We walked in the door, the hall, then the living room, and that’s when she erupted with anger at the sight of him, drunk off his ass, tobacco stinking the entire house. He lazed about sideways on the sofa, mindlessly watching some old drama. I typically went straight to my room, but that night was different. It had the same wrong feeling in my stomach. She seemed a little angrier than usual, he seemed a little drunker than usual. I pretended to go to my room like usual and instead hid. For what it was worth, I could have stood in plain sight, for they never once cared to look my way.

“I fucking knew it,” she screeched, “For our kid—do you give a single damn for our kid?”

“Obviously I must not,” he said, still watching the television.

“Obviously, for fuck’s sake—for fuck’s sake—for fuck’s sake obviously,” she screamed. She violently grabbed her purse by the strap and slung it and nailed the side of his head. She screamed again, “Is this how you wanted to raise him?” He didn’t react at all. He acted as if he had not actually just been hit by a purse with two bricks directly to the head. He drank some more.

“Is it ‘cus your dad didn’t raise you quite right?’ Huh? ‘Cus you had a fucked-up life?’ So now what? Time to pass off your shit? ‘Cus you’re mad at the fucking world?’ Huh? Are you listening to me?” she said.

He stumbled standing up off the couch and threw his beer across the room. I saw him look my mom dead in the eyes for the first time. Tears flew off her face uncontrollably. He said nothing, but stared. The television’s speaker blared and neither of them took notice. His arm started to twitch. My mother was struck by a hard blow to the temple—she was pummeled onto the carpet. He pulled a bat out from inside the couch, and I ran to my room, hands over my ears. Mom screamed, begged on the floor. I scrambled to lock the door. I hid in the closet corner, underneath mountains of hand-me-downs. She stopped screaming, and I heard nothing but my heartbeat.

“I couldn’t give a damn about you,” I said.

The voice said nothing. Some time passed without anything happening, and I looked out at the darkness again, expecting to see something even though I knew I couldn’t. The figure got off the guard rail and looked me square in the eyes for the first time. Tears kept parading down, but a smile emerged.

“Thank you. That’s more than enough.” the voice said.

What I saw now was dark, lost eyes. I stared deep into them and found nothing. Those eyes had experienced a lifetime of emotions in too short a distance. And yet, those eyes faced those feelings.

Time began to slow down. When I could see the body moving backwards, leaning, falling, then gone, I didn’t feel a thing. I stared in the same place I had when the eyes were right before me, and that’s when I thought about my dad and my mom and how something never felt right but it felt just like that day. I thought about what it would be like to walk down the highway now, as I normally would, to come back tomorrow, and the next day, and pretend like nothing ever happened. I thought about how my life wouldn’t have to change. How I could keep coming back right here, night after night, and how nothing had to change. I thought about the voice, and placed my hands on the railing. Then my legs hurdled the banister, and I peered over the ledge. Darkness. Nothing had changed. I decided I’d pretend nothing happened and that I would walk down the highway. But instead of turning around, I fell. Head on, head forward. My sensations returned. I heard and felt the rain again, the sensation of being in my own body, and I felt satisfaction and relief. A big grin covered my face. I imagined that some other day, someday far in the future, I might see another person just like myself. I might see that person leaping through the air, crashing to the ground. Walking the highway in the middle of the night-morning through the downpour. And there I’d be, a big grin on my face, watching from above, like a rain angel.

#writing #reading #creative writing #cjwritesforyou

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mallowsweetmiri · 2 months

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Peaches - Part Two

~ A Fred Weasley Fic ~

Peaches Master list:

Your POV

“Fucking finally,” you sighed, plopping down on the couch in the common room and shutting your eyes, “thought the day would never end.”

“How’d the exam go, love?” Cassius asked, closing his book in his lap. You rubbed your temple.

“Fine, fine…” you let out another sigh. School was school. You were just moving on autopilot. You did fine in all your subjects and you made sure to plot out library time. It was just exhausting. You used to enjoy learning, you had goals, you had a life ahead of you. Now all you had was an empty home and no ambition. So much for that ambitious Slytherin spirit…

“You used to love charms Y/N, making up all sorts of crazy charms for us. I miss it..” Cassius drawled on, smiling shyly over at you. You gave him a small smile. You knew what he really meant. He missed the old you…

“I still have that charmed necklace I made with the electric shock,” you faintly smiled. You had made it to prank a Ravenclaw douchebag who thought he could encroach on your personal space.

“I forgot about that! That was genius,” Cassius beamed at the memory. But then you also remembered when your dad had picked it up over summer thinking it looked nice… You guys laughed so hard… He was so proud of your magic…

“Well I’m all out of genius ideas Cass…” you frown and cover your eyes with your arm. Your head hurt. You had slept for a few hours last night before the nightmares began. You groaned.

“Are you alright, Y/N? You can always talk to me, to Lucy. And if you need anything you know I’d walk through a storm to get it for you,” Cassius offered with a smile. You peaked through your arm and gave him a light smile.

“I know Cass, and I love you guys. I just… I need to go on a walk,” you say suddenly, scrambling off the couch and grabbing your bag.

“Not this again,” Cassius groaned as he watched you leave. You gave him a wave before heading out.

—————————-

Fred’s POV

Potions was grueling. Snape had made George and I stay after class and clean out slugs. We may or may not have wasted a few slugs by slinging them at the back of a few heads but still…

“Totally unwarranted! Snape’s got it out for us…” George finished my thought aloud as we walked out of the dungeons. I nodded in agreement before something caught my eye. A head a dark curls was walking quickly out into the cold.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna try to nick something from the greenhouse for a new product idea…” I lied, my eyes not leaving the exit as I sped up my pace.

“Sure Freddie… just don’t be too long, we still need to sort out our canary creams!” George waved and went down the hall. I went outside and shielded my eyes from the brightness. The afternoon sun was such a contrast from spending hours down in the dungeons. My mood couldn’t help but lighten as I felt the warmth engulf my body. I had almost forgotten why I came outside in the first place when I spotted the thick head of curls bounding across the viaduct and towards the cliffs.

“Godric, she’s quick…” I muttered under my breath. I figured there was no point in running after her. There were only a few places she could end up on this specific path. I passed a few people hanging out in the courtyard and waved. I felt like such a jerk not knowing Y/N’s name… it felt like I knew almost everybody at this school…

I shook my head and continued down on the path. Who could blame me? I avoided all Slytherins unless I was hexing Malfoy and his crew. It wasn’t like Y/N had been particularly nice to me either. Although you can’t really blame her…. I didn’t even know her name…

I stopped in my tracks when I saw her. She was leaned over the edge of the outlook, staring out over the lake and towards Hogsmeade. The wind seemed to blow extra harsh today despite the sun shining warmth onto the grounds. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Look who forgot a jacket this time?” I teased as I approached the girl. Her head whipped around just as it had yesterday and the look on her face was… less than pleasant.

“Are you following me, Weasley?” She accused, turning around and leaning back against the rail on her arms. Why did she always look so nonchalant?

“No, Y/N, believe it or not, I was just enjoying the sunshine after being stuck in the dungeons all afternoon,” I offered her a smile as I approached the spot next to her. She raised an eyebrow at me.

“So, you’ve figured out my name, have you? Took you long enough…” she smirked before leaning her head back to bask in the sun. I smiled sheepishly at her.

“I’ll admit, that was pretty daft of me. And here I was thinking I knew every beautiful girl at the school,” I turned away to look out at the lake. I heard her scoff.

“Your Weasley charm doesn’t work on me Fred, so save your breath,” she pushed herself off of the railing but she didn’t leave. She simply turned around and joined me in leaning over the edge.

“I’m not trying to charm you, peach, I’m trying to apologize for not knowing your name,” I nudged her with my elbow and offer her a sly grin. She rolled her eyes but I could’ve sworn I saw the edge of her mouth curve up.

“Well apology accepted, I guess. I still think you’re a prat, though.”

I frown at this but my reaction seemed to make her laugh. She threw her head back slightly into the sunlight and let out a chuckle before letting her gaze fall back onto me. Her eyes brightened and crinkled from the fullness of her cheeks. Merlin, her smile was pretty. I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I’ll take it,” I say, diverting my gaze from hers if only to stop my mind from racing, “I also wanted to apologize for intruding yesterday. I honestly just thought it was hilarious that you had yelled out fuck, but I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She shook her head as she gazed down onto the cliff side below. Her smile had turned solemn.

“No, no, you didn’t interrupt me. I’m sorry if I’m a little… on edge. I am a Slytherin after all,” she waved me off but I could see something in her eyes shift. I frowned again.

“Just cause you’re a Slytherin doesn’t mean you can’t be happy…” I trail off, not wanting to shift her mood but I can’t help my blatant honestly. Weasley trait.

“Who said I’m not happy?” She snapped, straightening up and turning her body to face me. She would almost be intimidating, if she wasn’t so tiny.

“Well you said you’re on edge.. I dunno… you just seem… frustrated?” I mumble, trying not to upset her. “I mean, com’on, Y/N. You were cursing at the winds yesterday! You can lie all you want, I can tell somethings going on in that pretty little head of yours,” I tease, poking a finger at her forehead. Her eyes glared at me as she crossed her arms over her chest. She somehow made huffing look adorable.

“As much as I’d love to be psychoanalyzed by you Freddie, I have places to be. Enjoy your precious sunshine,” she said before turning on her heel and starting up the stairs towards the castle.

“Aw com’on peach!” I call after her, but it was too late. She was already waving me off with her hand and disappearing from my line of sight. I let out a sigh and turn back to look at the view. She’s a difficult one…

————————————

Your POV

You huffed as you walked back to the Slytherin common room. Why was that Weasley so intent on talking to you all of a sudden? None of the other ones were paying you any attention, just Fred…

You shook your head as you entered the common room to see Lucy and Cassius lounging together on a couch with their homework sprawled between them.

“Y/N!” Lucy perked up, shutting her book with a wide grin spreading on her face.

“Hi Lucy darling,” you let out a breathy laugh as you bent down to give her a quick hug. Cassius raised an eyebrow at you.

“Feeling better, love?” He questioned. You rolled your eyes.

“I guess,” you grumbled as you took a seat on the floor, “Lucy, you’ll never believe who I ran into on my walk just now.”

“Fred?” Your mouth dropped open.

“How did you know?” But she just chuckled. Cassius quickly sat up and darted his eyes between you two.

“Wait like Fred Weasley, Fred?” He questioned as Lucy giggled and nodded furiously. You groaned and threw your head back onto the couch.

“Yes, Fred Weasley. He came up to us at breakfast today trying to act all friendly. Granted, he didn’t even know our names, but he kept calling Y/N peaches,” Lucy said deviously, letting out a string of giggles. You smacked her leg.

“Peaches?! What the fuck is going on?” Cassius pressed, now fully throwing his assignments to the side. Lucy was having a fit of laughter but tried to stifle it when she saw you staring at her with a clenched jaw.

“Wouldn’t I like to know,” you huffed, “He’s probably up to no good. Why would he take an interest in me all of a sudden?” Lucy and Cassius exchanged a look.

“I bet he fancies you,” Lucy smirked, Cassius quickly following suit.

“Ooh, I bet he’s just smitten for our darling Y/N,” Cassius teased, leaning in with Lucy to giggle. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought you could see your brain.

“He kept trying to pry. It was so annoying. I kept thinking ‘can’t you see that I want to be alone right now?’ But he’s such a prat he can’t even take a hint…” you grumbled as your frustration began to boil up inside you again. You began to think back on what he had said.

Why was I so frustrated?

Even just thinking that to yourself made you mentally groan. Why were you even considering a single word he had said?

“Well maybe he just wants to get to know you, Y/N…” Lucy said as gently as she possibly could. You glared into the fire.

“This is just the last thing I need this week. All these stupid exams, all the homework the professors are giving us on top of this bloody tournament. I just want… I just want to be alone!”

Lucy and Cassius watch helplessly and you stand from the floor and stomp up to the dorms. They look solemnly at each other before opening their homework back up.

———————————

Part 2! I hope you guys like this one. This story is a little slow paced and I’ll probably post it on AO3 or something as well. I just gotta set that up!

Again, leave feedback and suggestions in the comments, thank <3

#fred weasley fanfiction #y/n x fred weasley #fred weasley x you #reader x fred weasley #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #Fred Weasley imagines #harry potter headcanon #harry potter oneshot #Harry Potter #george Weasley #Ron Weasley #Ginny Weasley #fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley x reader

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mushrooms-and-antlers · 11 months

Note

You’re traveling by way of the delta-pass, a system of viaducts bridging over the extensive wetlands surrounding the Kha-doran River’s delta. The viaducts are made up of pylons that pull magical energies from the water’s kinetic motion, and the sun’s rays to sustain the hard-light constructs that make up the walkways between them. You’ve been stuck at a snail’s pace for some time, several merchant caravans seem to be backed up to each other clogging up the road. You’ve been working your way through the crowded walkway and as you get further along you notice some of the merchants have started setting up camp. You stop someone to ask and they let you know that the walkway ahead is out of order. You’re days from the nearest populace so it could be some time before a technician could get out here, and unless the people at the back of the line start turning around, none of them will be able to move toward the down ramp. You’re on foot so you could just turn back and head to the town you came from using the way you came on the delta pass, or you could take the down ramp and go by land to the city you were traveling toward. Going back to the town would mean a lengthy delay on your trip, and traveling through the wetlands during swamp monster season is never a good idea. You could go to the pylon up ahead and try to fix the bridge yourself, but the pylons focus massive amounts of power and you’re unfamiliar with their control structure, it could be catastrophic if you were to make a mistake.

...

*What do you do?*

I plop myself down across from a pair of merchants sitting next to a crackling fire. One is dressed in a sweeping black cloak, while the other wears brown. Both lean up against a seemingly domesticated bear, but this is largely irrelevant to the story. As they seem the type to know a thing or two about monsters, I ask them if they have any advice regarding swamp monsters?

#im sorry for the hyperfixation infecting this #bonus points if you guess how/where #but i got my first ask!#wizard posting

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tornadoyoungiron · 8 months

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Traintober | Day 2 - Bridge

Green Arrow finds out that Edward has a fear of heights after a new bridge is installed.

Traintober Prompt List

~~~

"You again?" Green Arrow raised an eyebrow as Boco came in with clay trucks from the Clay Pits. “What’s wrong with Edward, why are you pulling his trains?”

The BR Class 28 gave a tired sigh before he looked away.

“He won’t go over the new bridge,” Boco explained and Green Arrow frowned, confused.

“Bridge?”

“The new one between Maron and Suddery, the one they raised so that taller boats could go up the Maura,” Boco tutted. “He won’t go over it now.”

“Won’t he now?”

Green Arrow gave a thoughtful hum as Boco gave a honk and departed to leave his train with the twins. Arrow decided that he would have a talk with the blue engine.

~~~

After many hours of searching, Arrow found the elder blue Furness up at Ulfstead Castle later that evening. He’d been hiding and spending less time around Brendam sheds and Green Arrow knew it wasn’t just a coincidence.

A new, significantly higher bridge had been installed, Edward suddenly avoiding work and now he was avoiding the rest of the Brendam crew. There had to be something else going on.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Arrow greeted the blue engine but recoiled as he saw that Edward wasn’t alone. “Oh, hello James.”

“What are you doing here? Get lost!” James sneered at Arrow whom just stared back at him unbothered by James' hostility.

“Now I know the both of you are a pair of lovebirds, but you can’t keep hogging Edward all to yourself when Boco, Murdoch and I have to pick up the slack,” Green Arrow appealed and Edward sighed and looked away from him.

“I suppose it was rather selfish of me to dump all of my duties on the rest of you,” he admitted. “You came all this way to confront me?”

“Well, actually I was going to ask if you were afraid of heights,” Arrow queried bluntly and Edward paled in response as James immediately went to defend the blue engine.

“Don’t you go throwing around gossip like that!” James shouted at him. “Just typical of you to go throwing around rumours about people!”

“I did not throw rumours around I just asked if Edward was afraid of heights you garish red monstrosity!” Arrow retortedback at James.

“Please, please!” Edward protested trying to defuse the situation. “This fighting isn’t going to get us anywhere!”

“But he thinks you’re afraid of heights!” James argued and Edward gave a defeated sigh in response.

“It’s because I am,” the blue engine admitted. He looked back at Arrow who looked particularly proud of himself. “How did you work it out?”

“The new bridge over the Maura being raised up and now you’re suddenly avoiding it and the fact you won’t travel on the viaduct unless absolutely necessary pretty much gave it away,” Arrow claimed and Edward blushed slightly.

“I suppose it is a tad obvious now that you put it that way,” Edward conceded. “I’m sorry for putting my work on the rest of you.”

“I mean, it’s not exactly fair on us but if you’re afraid of something then I think most of us understand,” Arrow maintained to Edward.

“Stop blaming Edward, he can’t help it!” James yelled at Arrow and Arrow inwardly sighed.

He and James had never gotten along, never had and probably never would. It was fine, Arrow didn’t care all that much, he was used to people holding grudges or disliking him intently.

“Arrow, can I ask you to keep my fear of heights a secret? The Fat Controller knows about it and he’s trying to find a way around but-”

“But the Maura Bridge can’t exactly be worked around,” Arrow finished.

“I’m really sorry,” Edward apologised but Arrow simply waved him off with a wheesh of steam.

“It’s fine!” Arrow beseeched. “We all have fears, Edward.”

“Yes,” Edward gave him a tired smile. “That being said, could you keep my little secret confidential?”

Arrow was silent for a moment as James glared daggers at him. It wasn't until he saw Edward’s pleading face that he relented.

“Alright, you can stop glaring at me James, I promise I won’t tell anyone,” he promised and Edward gave him a smile of relief.

“Thank you Green Arrow.”

“But people are going to complain, Boco’s pretty patient but I doubt he’ll do your jobs forever,” Arrow warned.

“I know,” Edward lamented. “But I’ll try to find something that works.”

~~~

A few nights later while pulling the Flying Kipper for Henry, Green Arrow caught sight of a pair of red and blue tender engines around the bridge over the Maura River and he smiled to himself knowingly.

~~~

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#traintober #traintober 2023 #ttte edward #ttte james #ttte #ttte green arrow #ttte young iron #ttte young iron short #ttte young iron au #young iron #ttte young iron traintober

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seedsinmygarden · 9 months

Note

I saw your post on character reactions to the MC coming out as transfem, and wanted to ask you a question/give you a prompt: the MC coming out as a trans guy to professors Fig and Sharp (separately).

(Reasons for this, if you want to know: I want to come out to my family, but I'm not in the best headspace (stuff happened, not related to them), and I need some comfort (these two are my favourite characters, and I see Fig as a father figure).

Sorry for ranting, it wasn't my intention. I love your content, keep up the good work.

Coming out as FTM Trans!

thank you for the compliments, and i’m happy to hear you liked the transfem one! im sorry you’re struggling, i hope this helps bring some comfort to you during tough times. (and please, let me know if anything was said incorrectly or was hurtful to be said! i want to do this right and the last thing i want to do is be hurtful, so please educate me! i will gladly edit it and make any changes to correct.)

Word Count: 1,792 words

Tags/Warnings: Set in a time where Fig didn’t die in the Final Repository Battle. Fluff, mentions of homophobia/transphobia.

PROFESSOR FIG:

Professor Fig had been worried.

That morning, MC had sent him an owl, asking to speak together out on the Viaduct Bridge after dinner. He wondered if he misspoke the last time they were together— he knew something had been troubling them but didn’t want to press, yet he feared he pressed unintentionally.

After Miriam’s death, he found familial love in this now-6th year, seeing them as his own. He knew them well enough that sending a letter to meet after dinner meant that something was going on, and he only hoped he could help them find a solution to whatever it was.

Tugging his robe tighter around him, he watches his breath fog the air in front of his face. The sunset glows along the horizon as students passed him, dinner having come to a close and everyone eager for the warmth of their common rooms to finish the night.

Some stopped to say hello, others had a question on the recently-assigned essay, but it was when MC finally approached that he excused himself and told the other students he would be happy to talk more tomorrow morning before classes, if they had any remaining questions.

Once those students (rather begrudingly) left, he invites MC to join him with a wave. They smiled as they approached, leaning against the rail and looking out into the Hogwarts Valley.

“I see you got my letter. Thank you for meeting me out here.” They tell him and Professor Fig nods.

“Of course. After the tumultous year we shared last year, I see you as my own. You will always hold priorty in my life.”

He watches their smile falter. He continues, a small frown on his face and his brows creasing in concern.

“But I see something troubles you. Is everything alright, MC?”

“Yes.” MC nods. “It’s… something important. To me, at least.”

“If it is important to you, MC, then it is important to me too.” Professor Fig reassures them. “I will not force you to talk to me, but please know that I am always here for you. I am always by your side not because I brought you to Hogwarts and feel I must as an ambassador of some sort, but because I see you growing to become a caring, strong, and intelligent young adult.” There was a moment of silence as MC processes Professor Fig’s words, and finally, they take a breath.

“I-I’m trans, Professor.” MC finally looks at him. He could feel how quickly their stress levels shot up. “I’ve been using he/him pronouns in privacy among some friends, and a different name, and I’ve really been liking the… euphoria, it gives me.” Fig watches his breathing pick up, “I-I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, it’s only been a few weeks, I just— I was trying to work up the courage—”

Suddenly, Professor Fig acts upon instinct and his arms wrap around MC in a comforting hug.

“It’s okay, MC.” He tells him softly. “You could have told me whenever you were comfortable and I would have accepted you regardless. I am grateful you feel you can trust me to be yourself until you are comfortable coming out in a more public manner.” He gives him one last squeeze in the hug before pulling away to look him in the eye. “Know that you can always trust me, but also know that you shouldn’t feel the need to tell me every little update. Take things at your pace, because this is your life. Regardless, I accept you as you are.”

MC lets out a little sob, leaning back in towards Fig and hugging him again. Fig returns the gesture, rubbing his back comfortingly. He could feel his shoulders shake as he cries— tears of relief, he hoped.

“I hope you know how wonderful you are, MC. You deserve nothing but happiness.” He tells him as the crying slowed to a stop and the two pulled away, “Now, tell me, what is the name you go by now?”

PROFESSOR SHARP:

“Class dismissed.” Professor Sharp’s voice carries over the dungeon classroom. The bustle of life among the 7th year Advanced Potions students replaces the silence that once was the environment of focus as they packed their belongings and headed out.

Profesosr Sharp passed each station to ensure the cleanliness of them, and he found himself halting at one, where MC still stood, eyes trained on their potion as they stirred the contents. He watches as they subconsciously lift a jar of crushed lacewing flies and sprinkled a pinch into the potion, turning it a teal blue.

“MC?” Professor Sharp asks and MC yelps loudly, practically throwing their ladle and it falls to the ground behind them with a loud clatter against the stone floor.

“P-Professor— I-I mean, yes, Professor Sharp?”

“I dismissed class. I suppose you didn’t hear me, but you are free to go— once you finish your potion here. It would be a waste of resources if you scrapped it now.” He pulls out his wand as he spoke, nonverbally summoning the ladle to his wand hand and cleaning it with a handkerchief he protruded from his jacket pocket.

MC finally looks around the classroom, blinking almost owlishly as they realized they were the only student left. Sharp sets the cleaned ladle next to the cauldron.

“Oh. I see. I’m sorry, I must not have been listening.”

“Do not worry. My next class isn’t until after lunch.” Professor Sharp shakes his head, setting himself on the stool in the station next to MC’s. “What are you creating here?”

“I wanted to create Felix Felicis potion, the luck potion we learned last week.” Professor Sharp raises a brow at MC and they shake their head. “Rest assured, Professor, I was most certainly planning on turning it in to you. I’m well aware we’re not allowed to have it as students. Purely educational purposes, this brew.” MC chuckles, and it pulls a chuckle from Professor Sharp as well.

“I understand. Please, continue.” He motions to the cauldron, watching as MC carried on with the potion-making.

It was silent in the classroom once more— a comfortable silence, that is— with only the bubbling of the potion filling the room. Professor Sharp watches MC as they work on their potion, their hands working expertly to perfect the potion.

“May I talk about something, Professor?”

“If it won’t take you out of focus, you may.” He nods. He watches MC take a deep breath.

“Ever since I started here at Hogwarts, in my 5th year, I found a new world that was so much unlike the normal world I came from. I love this world, I love Hogwarts, I love Hogsmeade and the people across Hogwarts Valley… I-I’ve always felt a little off, in the muggle world. When I wear trousers, I’d get looks of disgust in my direction. ‘Ladies shouldn’t need to wear trousers. It’s not right.’”

“I have found the Wizarding World to be far more accepting than the muggle world, particularly. Granted, much of my life has been spent among witches and wizards alike, but the few years I spent in the muggle world, undercover, had me wishing to return sooner rather than later. People are cruel.” Professor Sharp sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry that has been your experience growing up.”

“Thank you, Professor. The world, muggle and wizarding, can both be cruel in different ways.” MC agrees, “I remember, when Florence came out, the amount of pushback she still got among all the acceptance.”

“Florence is a strong young woman.” Sharp nods, “She is solid as a wall. The negativity didn’t affect her— at least, not outwardly.”

“I wish I was more like her.” MC sighs as they add an ashwinder egg to the mixture.

“You are, MC.” Professor Sharp is quick to reassure. “You saved Hogwarts from Ranrok when you were only 15. An incredible feat, especially to a retired Auror such as I. And that is not to say that Florence coming out is inferior to that— both are incredible feats in their own ways. It takes strength and bravery to achieve both.” He takes a breath, “Believe me, MC, you are a great wizard. You will go on to do amazing things, in whatever it is you decide to pursue after Hogwarts.”

“Thank you, Professor.” MC couldn’t hold back the grin spreading across their face. They take a deep breath. “I’m transgender, Professor. I’ve never felt right wearing skirts even from a young age. A part of me was convinced that I would have to deal with the unhappiness for the rest of my life. Be arranged to marry off and bear children, as my duty would have been as a woman in the muggle world. But here, in the Wizarding World, I have more hope— hope to take control of my own life and do what it is I want to do, wear what I want to wear.”

“I see.” Sharp nods, “Rest assured, MC, you’ll always have a home here in the Wizarding World, a place where you can be called however you’d like, wear whatever it is you like to wear… It’s your place to decide what you want to do, and who you want to be.” He stands again as MC turns off the heat to the cauldron, letting the boiling cocotion simmer to room temperature, cool enough to be transferred to vials. “That is one of the wonderful freedoms we get in the Wizarding World; the ability to choose for ourselves.”

MC nods, casting the cooling charm to speed up the process as Professor Sharp goes to retrieve a row of empty vials to put the liquid luck into.

“I know it’ll still be rough for a while. I haven’t come out to a lot of people yet. I’ve only told Professor Fig, Professor Weasley, and a couple of my friends. And now, you. Thank you, Professor.”

“I am happy you trust me to know, MC. Or would you prefer a different name in privacy?”

#hogwarts legacy #hl oc #fanfic #hogwarts #professor fig #eleazar fig #professor sharp #aesop sharp #florence seymour #peter's fluxweed #oneshot #family

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imagrindylow · 1 year

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Duplicity - Chapter 4 - Taking Care

Past Sebastian / f!slytherin!Reader; Unrequited Ominis / Reader; Garreth / Reader

3k Words Content Warning: Alcohol use, Vomiting, Drunk Character, Hurt/comfort, Angst Chapter Summary: Your date to the ball ends up drinking way too much, leaving you in a position where you feel you need to take care of them. Overall Work Summary: After your long term relationship with Sebastian Sallow ends, you're left to lean on your friends for support. While you try to move on and find happiness again, you come to realize that not all of the friends helping you actually have your best interests in mind. Chapter Index Ao3 link, if you prefer ~~~~~

Meanwhile, Ominis had been pacing the viaduct courtyard breathing in the night air, trying to calm the still simmering rage from what he had just experienced. He knew Sebastian deserved his fate, but he still felt a sense of overwhelming guilt. He knew, he was positive that you hearing what had happened – what Sebastian said and that Ominis retaliated – would upset you. He felt foolish for doing something that would surely only hurt you worse than seeing Sebastian already would have.

And then there was his other source of rage. One that was more difficult to accept and understand. Ominis lamented his decision to never disclose to you his true feelings… that he allowed Garreth to steal you away from him for most of the evening, and that he didn’t allow you to follow him out here just now… what a missed opportunity. You had been so quick to try to join him but he allowed his self pity to push you away. He had to change things, somehow.

He tossed the small bottle of fire whiskey up and down a few times before making the decision that he was going to test the limits of it’s ability to never run dry. He thought he would surely have to indulge at this point to be able to relax again, to have any hope of returning to the dance floor with you and to be able to actually enjoy himself.

He pulled the cork from the bottle and pressed the rim to his lips, taking long thirsty gulps. Enveloped in the warmth of the whiskey, he was beginning to feel better immediately, but he didn’t stop, not until his head began to spin and he had to steady himself against the stone half walls surrounding the courtyard – and even still he took another swig for good measure. He raised his wand and found that with it, he could still manage to walk well enough, and he finally felt the regrets wash away.

He began making his way back inside slowly, and eventually he heard Poppy’s voice calling to him as he made his way through the doors to the Great Hall.

“How are you feeling, Ominis?” She wondered, moving to sit next to him once he rejoined their table.

He laughed and smiled at her, swaying side to side in his seat while he spoke. “I’m feeling… I’m so much better… finally.”

She smiled at his newfound cheerfulness at first and then the smell of the fire whiskey hit her. “Oh... I’m glad.” She paused, laughing a bit, “Ominis… how much of that fire whiskey did you drink?”

He giggled at the question, everything was just sort of funny to him at the moment. He tried to speak clearly, but his typical air of elegance was long gone. “I had…I had what I needed to have” he slurred “… in order to… to face you all again.” His words, though coherent for the most part, were paced much more slowly than usual. It was apparent he had clearly overdone it.

“Well,” she cleared her throat, “Everyone else is dancing. Would you – or rather – are you able to dance at this point, do you suppose?” Poppy spoke quietly, trying her best not to cast judgment, after all he had gone through quite the predicament with Sebastian.

“I am more than willing... to find out... if you are willing... to help guide me,” he laughed. He began to raise up from his seat, and fumbled trying to get his wand back into the pocket of his formal robes. Poppy clutched his arm tightly, getting a feel for how steady he’d actually be, and led him towards you, Garreth, Imelda, and Leander on the dance floor.

You could see from across the room that Ominis was drunk as he and Poppy headed towards you. Poppy was sharking her head with a smirk on her face as they approached. Ominis was actually doing a much better job at walking than Poppy had expected him to do, and she seemed to find his condition amusing, but Garreth was viably put off by the state in which he returned.

You shot a look at Garreth as if to tell him to play nicely. Of course for you, he would, but he had clearly warned both Ominis and Leander about the potency of the brew and it was disheartening that his advice was ignored, as Ominis was smart enough to know better.

“I’m finally… finally feeling like I can... finally enjoy the evening again.,” He began, swaying slightly as he spoke but overall looking very confident. “And so, Garreth... I’d like my… my date back… now please.” Ominis slurred as he spoke but didn’t need to ask twice, you and Poppy swapped places and you wrapped an arm tightly around Ominis’s waist to help keep him steady. He had a smug grin plastered to his face from that moment on, he felt quite pleased to have you back at his side, much to Garreth’s chagrin.

Ominis was much less coordinated of a dancer at this point in the evening, but he lead you round the dance floor none the less, carrying on with more sway to his steps this time. He chuckled with every falter, and you couldn’t help by smile, just glad that he was having fun.

You were enjoying yourself, as well. Your laughter rang out into the hall as he told you stupid little jokes, the butt of which was always Sebastian for the time being. Garreth politely danced with Poppy, though you could practically feel his gaze burning a hole through you, and Imelda and Leander seemed to have disappeared off somewhere by this point…

Before long, it seemed the constant movement were becoming too much for Ominis, with his fire whiskey seeming to creep up on him suddenly. “I am…. very dizzy… all of a sudd- ohh…” he lost his train of thought and lost his balance, tripping over your feet and falling on the floor barely able to catch himself before his cheek hit the ground.

“Ominis, are you alright?” You gasped and immediately began pulling him back to his feet, with him laughing hysterically all the while. This caught Poppy’s attention and made her giggle as well, with Garreth looking perturbed.

“I was just…” he could barely continue without laughing, “just having too much fun… I suppose.”

“Well, I think that’s enough fun for you for tonight,” you said firmly, “why don’t I help you back to the common room?”

“That is,” he muttered, swaying back and forth on his feet, “…probably a good… decision.”

You say goodbye to Poppy and Garreth, promising to see them the next day at breakfast. You walked with Ominis’s arm over your shoulder, and one of yours around his waist. He was relying on you a lot more heavily for his balance now, and his lighthearted drunkenness was quickly being replaced with something much less becoming.

The two of you slowly made your way back to the Slytherin common room. Describing Ominis as unsteady would have been an understatement, and the walk back was not an easy one, but somehow you made it. Thankfully the lesser year students were already to their dorms, and your fellow seventh years were still at the ball. The two of you slumped back on the couch in the empty Slytherin common room and you caught your breath from hauling him all of this way.

“I’m… so, so sorry,” he slurred, “I must have… ruined the evening….” Ominis began to apologize. He leaned forward holding his head in his hands, bracing his arms on his knees. “My head… ugh,” he groaned.

“No, it’s okay. All things considered, it was not a bad evening,” You assured him, rubbing his back.

He sighed. “I have had… better.” There were a few moments silence before Ominis sat upright again and began fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat, clutching his stomach. “I hate to ask… I’m...I’m going to be sick.” He groaned and hiccuped. “Can you... help me to the washroom?”

You let out a deep sigh while quickly getting up and pulling Ominis to his feet, he staggered a few steps before he got his barrings against one of your arms, with his wand clutched in his opposite hand. You led him up the stairs to the lavatory in the girls dorm hallway, and the moment you opened the door for him he let his wand lead him into a stall where he collapsed to his knees, clutched the porcelain of the toilet and began violently expelling the fire whiskey.

You kept guard at the door, making sure no one would come in and see him in this compromised position. The sounds coming from that stall were horrible, you winced thinking about how uncomfortable this must be for him.

“Ominis…” you began, “Are you alright?”

He only groaned in response. You cast a locking spell on the door and walk slowly towards him, wanting to be there to comfort him, though you were unsure if this would cross a line within his pride.

You stood a few feet behind him, watching, concern painted your face. After a few minutes his breathing calmed, he sat back on his heels, still knelt in front of the toilet. He turned to you, tears streaming down his cheeks and with a distress you had never seen in his stormy eyes before. “I think I over di...did it... just aaa… just a bit.” He said with a low sort of chuckle, stumbling over his words. He was pitiful.

“You don’t say.” You laughed and shook your head, standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders. “Are you alright now? Got it all out?” You ran your fingers through his hair pushing back the strands that were damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead.

He sighed. “For the moment… at least…” His voice was hoarse from the vomiting. He stood up and turned to face you and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He could feel your eyes on him, and could feel the pity.

“Your robe is dirty now, and down the front of your shirt...” You tell him, trying to be delicate.

He was immediately more disgusted with himself than he was just thirty seconds ago, if that was even possible at this point. “Eurghhh, is it? God dammittt…” His face was twisted in revolt.

“Don’t touch it, let me help you,” You offered. “Stay still” you instructed and aimed your wand at him. With expert precision you cast your force spells at the clasp of his formal robe and maneuvered it open, then pulled it from his shoulders, and set it aside. Next were the buttons of his waistcoat, which appeared clean enough – the real mess was on his shirt and tie. Piece by piece you used your magic to help him undress his upper half, sparing his fingers from having to fumble the sickly garments.

“You should have a shower, I think it’ll really help,” you suggested, and cast your wand at the knobs in the shower stall across the room, starting the warm water, before he even had a chance to answer.

“Good idea.” He still sounded messed up, with the new additions of sounding extremely tired. He started heading towards the sound of the running water and began tugging on his shoes to remove them. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to grab you a robe from my dorm. Alright?”

He nodded and you excused yourself, trying to give him a bit of privacy to finish undressing and to get into the shower. You jogged down the hall to your dorm and grabbed two robes – you wanted to slip into something more comfortable as well. You changed out of your dress as quickly as you could and pulled on one of your robes, and hung your dress back in your wardrobe. You then made your way back to the lavatory before anyone else could have the chance to stumble across Ominis. Robe in hand, you gently swung open the bathroom door and re-locked it behind you, and looked up to see Ominis just stepping into the stall and shutting the wooden door behind him.

“I’ve got the robe, it’s hanging right on the outside of the door, and there is a towel here, too.” You tell him, as you situate the items for him.

There was a loud groan from the other side of the shower door, closely followed by coughing and the sound of more vomiting. Then came the disheartened, defeated sighs.

“Oh, Ominis…” You winced. The poor thing. You wished you could snap your fingers and bring him out of this state… but there was only so much magic could do.

You took this chance while he was washing up to get cleaned up yourself at the sink. You removed your little bit of make up, and to took the pins out of your hair. Several minutes later the shower turned off and the stall lock slid open.

You turn your back to the sounds and call over your shoulder to Ominis, “Let me know if you need any help.”

The only response you were met with were sounds… A gasp, the squeaking of slick wet skin against the tile floor, and a thud, expletives, all in rapid succession. Then came the pained breaths.

You approached the shower door slowly. It was cracked open just slightly. You could see that he had fallen backwards. “Are you alright?”

Ominis let out an annoyed huff. “I slipped…”

“Do you… need help getting up?” You knew this offer was pushing it. His pride would typically never let him accept such help especially not when he was in such a compromised position. Drunk, naked.

“I – I could use your arm… something to get leverage on…” He sounded so… demoralized. “Im so, so sorry… I have been the worst date.”

“Stop putting yourself down. We danced, we ate, drank and we had fun. You just… overindulged a bit. But you are not the worst.” You tried to patch that broken pride of his.

You opened the door to the shower stall slowly – averting your eyes as best you could – you step inside and take his forearm, with him returning the grasp. You heaved backwards as he leveraged on your arm, trying to get his footing, but his strength overtook yours and you were pulled forwards by his weight, slipping and falling – right over top him.

Your free hand caught his shoulder while your other was still holding his forearm. Your legs were between his. There was silence at first. You looked into his eyes and you couldn’t tell what you saw there.

You recoiled your hands from his body instantaneously and pulled yourself back to standing. “I’m… I’m sorry, I slipped too…” You stuttered out, face flushed red.

“I’m sorry, too…” was all he could muster.

You reached for him again, this time bracing your body with the wooden shower door frame, and pulled him to his feet.

“Urgh. I feel... so weak,” he whined.

“I know... just a little longer and you’ll be in bed. You’ll feel a lot better tomorrow.” Your back was still turned to him. “Let me know when you’re decent...”

He laughed. “I’ve got the robe on… but decent is not a word I’d use to describe myself this evening.” He was sounding quite a bit more like himself now, albeit hoarse and exhausted. He sighed.

You turned around and took in the sight of him. The timing and situation were completely inappropriate but you couldn’t lie to yourself – he didn’t look bad standing there with his dripping wet and disheveled hair wearing a robe with your initials embroidered on it.

“Come on now, lets get you to bed.”

You were a few feet in front of him, and he had his wand, but still stumbled as he made his way towards you, though this time you had the feeling it was more out of physical weakness after vomiting so violently and being completely exhausted, rather than actual drunkenness. Either way, you made your way to him and wrapped an arm around his waist for support once more, and guided him back to your dorm, as it was closest.

Your dorm was still empty. You weren’t sure of the time, but you imagined the ball was either still going on or your room mates had found alternative sleeping locations. You led him to your bed and drew the covers back for him and he immediately rolled in and made himself comfortable.

You shifted your weight between your legs, thinking deeply on whether or not you really wanted to tuck yourself in beside him. What if he woke being sick again, or needed something? You looked at him for several moments longer, he was practically already asleep. But most importantly, you trusted him to respect your boundaries and not to try anything. You landed on the decision to lay beside him, and slid under the covers as well.

You were surprised when he actually spoke. “Thank you… for all of your help. I’m really sorry... I was such a mess.”

“It’s what friends are for. Don’t worry about it.” you replied to him in a hushed tone. You laid in bed facing him, watching him drift to sleep without another word.

Chapter 5

#ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #ominis gaunt x mc #garreth weasley x mc #ominis gaunt x you #garreth weasley x you

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