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thelashjedi · 1 year

Text

you’re safe with me

Dramione | Completed | 4.7K words

Also available on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43323165

As quietly as possibly, Hermione crept inside the library at Malfoy Manor. It was as good a place as any for to catch her metaphorical breath, before she’d need to plaster on a fake smile and rejoin the ball — to keep up appearances. Maybe she could find the book on the origins of arithmancy Draco mentioned the last time they were here? Hermione doubted she’d be back at the Manor any time soon, if ever. Not after this evening has gone exactly as she’d feared, To her great surprise, despite her fraught wartime history, the Manor had somehow become one of her favourite places in the world, with the exception of one permanently sealed drawing room. But alas, Malfoy Manor had once again become ground too dangerous for Hermione Granger to tread, though this time the reasons for it were vastly different.

Hermione idly fiddled with her beaded bag, wondering if the Malfoys would even notice if just one of their many books went missing for a bit. Probably not. She would return it later by owl, of course.

Making her way to her favourite spot in the back corner, Hermione was surprised to find Draco Malfoy collapsed in one of the wing-backed chairs, a hand wearily rubbing his eyes, the other gripped tightly around an empty glass, notes of firewhisky lingering in the air. He hadn’t noticed her.

Recovering as best she could in the circumstance, Hermione deliberately kept her voice light. “Malfoy? Why on Earth are you hiding in the library? This is your Engagement Ball. Shouldn’t you be out there accepting the fawning praise of the Sacred Twenty-Eight for doing your part to keep the Malfoy family tree as devoid of branches as possible?”

Her voice startled him, causing Draco to look momentarily panicked. Though he regained his customary smirk so quickly, perhaps it was only her imagination. Or a trick of the dim light.

“Ha, Granger. Very droll. As a point of clarification, this is my Betrothal Ball, nothing to do with an engagement. And secondly —“ Draco sighed deeply. “Fuck. I just need a break from it all, you know?”

Hermione blinked. She knew. After all, that’s precisely why she was here, but it was conveying to see Draco struggling when he ought to be celebrating the ostensibly happy news. “I do. And you’re safe with me, Auror Malfoy. As always.”

Her partner made a non-committal noise, as he put his empty glass on the side table. The reality of her presence caught up with him and his gaze sharpened. “Why are you here, Granger?”

Hermione laughed softly, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with him, full stop and she especially did not want to have it now. “Well, Ron’s not accepting the end of our relationship as well as I’d hoped. He’s out their hitting the champagne pretty hard, whilst making eyes at me. Seemed like a good idea to hide out for a bit.”

Technically, everything she’d said was true, but only to a point. It was Hermione’s own inability to stop staring at the future bride’s left hand that prompted her to seek refuge somewhere else. If Ron had been her only issue, she could have drawn on a wealth of experience to simply endure it. But being forced to confront the reality of a future where she would never get what — who — she wanted? That proved to be too much.

Draco snorted. “Really, Grange — the library? It’s your natural habitat. If you wanted to hide almost anywhere else in the Manor would be better than — wait. Did you say the end of your relationship?”

Briefly wondering how much firewhisky he’d had, Hermione plastered that bloody fake smile back on, responding in a falsely bright tone. “Um, yes. Ron and I broke up.”

It was Draco’s turn to blink. He sat silently for a moment, his thinking face — the one he adopted when they were working on a case together — firmly in place. Then he rose from his chair, standing before her, his eyes boring into her own. “When?”

Hermione tried — and bloody failed — to sound breezy. “Oh, late last month.”

Malfoy Heir to wed Miss Astoria Greengrass.

The headline in the Daily Prophet, accompanied by a photo of Draco next to a smiling, beautiful, perfect pureblood witch screamed at Hermione from the front page. She felt as though all the air left her flat, leaving her underwater, unable to her breathe as her carefully crafted illusions about her own feelings disappeared into the ether the very instant she realised she was too late. It was only then Hermione registered just how deeply she was in denial over the extent of feelings for the pale wizard who was definitely not just her co-worker, no matter how many times she’d angrily shouted at otherwise at Ron.

Draco’s expression was inscrutable as he studied her face. “Before or after my betrothal was announced?”

The question was so prescient Hermione did not have her features schooled enough to prevent her jaw from dropping a fraction. She made a hasty correction, though Draco’s narrowed eyes told her she wasn’t quick enough, blast him. “What? That’s not — Malfoy. That has nothing to do —”

“Granger.” Her name was an interruption and a plea.

Unable to pretend any longer, Hermione sighed. “After.”

“Why?” Draco asked in a pained whisper.

“Ron and I were never right for each other — okay? Not really. But when my close friend and partner getting engaged sent me into an emotional tailspin, it really didn’t seem fair to Ron to keep pretending otherwise. Not after assuring him for years I only admired you as a colleague, because we got along so well and we had such a good working relationship.” Keeping her gaze on her shoes, Hermione blinked back tears. “To be fair, I didn’t realise I was lying to him until it was too late.”

Draco’s bitter laugh prompted her to look up and she took in the stunned disbelief in his grey eyes, as well as the undercurrent of anger. Her heart broke just a little bit more.

Hermione swallowed. “I don’t find this particularly funny, Draco. And I think I should just go home.”

“Oh no you don’t, Granger. “ Draco grabbed her wrist, pulling her close as he pressed her hand over his heart, his eyes blazing into hers. “I only agreed to this damned betrothal because you were still bafflingly with that unworthy tosser and I couldn’t bear to continually hope you’d eventually see that he wasn’t right for you. That you’d eventually see me.”

Hermione blinked back tears, unsuccessfully trying to pull away from Draco’s grip, overwhelmed by his intensity and nearness. “I always saw you, Draco. But I never thought you’d see me as anything more than what we already were.” Unable to look at him, she used her free hands to point in the direction of the ballroom, where his betrothed was currently holding court and Draco flinched, dropping her hand. Summoning her resolve, Hermione spoke again, the words like ash on her tongue. “Given our inability to effectively communicate,I will be requesting to be transferred out of Magical Law Enforcement. The Unspeakables still try to recruit me a couple of times a year — I’ll see if I can move there.”

“No.” He looked stricken, his voice pa whisper as he shook his head.

Hermione’s voice broke. “Draco, working with you the past three years has been hard enough. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing it now.”

“You think it’s been hard for you? I’ve watched the only witch I’ve ever loved be with someone who takes her for granted, does not appreciate her and has the unmitigated gall to incessantly complain about her to me whenever I’ve been forced to speak with him.”

“Ron was likely trying to convince you I wasn’t a very good girlfriend because he was jealous of us — of our working relationship, I mean. We fought about it constantly, Malfoy.”

“And his way of coping was to try to diminish you at every opportunity?”

“Oh lay off of him, Malfoy! He’s not the one who spent the entire time being in love with someone else.”

Draco’s mouth was on hers before the last syllable left her lips, quickly swallowing her startled gasp. One hand cradled her chin as the other pulled her hips flush against his and Hermione whimpered, losing herself in the feel of his tongue gliding against hers as her body pressed into him. Her blood sang as she grabbed fistfuls of his robe, desperate to pull him closer still — the years of unspoken, mutual longing becoming thoroughly unmasked with the worst fucking timing. She stiffened, as she recalled why she was at the Manor in the first place.

As if hit with the same realisation, Draco abruptly let her go. She instantly stepped back — keeping more than an arm’s width away as they stared at each other, panting.

Draco spoke first, his words full of quiet desperation. “I can get out of it, Granger. If you’ll have me.”

Hermione’s heart clenched. “I feel really bad about that for her sake, but not so bad I’m willing for us both to be perpetually miserable over it. I was having a hard enough time when I thought it was just me. How badly will your parents react?”

As far as Hermione was concerned, this was an open question. Over the past few years, she’d become far closer to the Malfoys than she would’ve ever dreamed possible. Narcissa was quite fond of her, frequently insisting they take tea together — just the two of them as Draco was deliberately not invited. She ate dinner with the family once or twice a month. While it took longer for Lucius to come around on her, he had reluctantly admitted she was just as talented and capable as his son, even though it clearly pained him to say the words aloud. Hermione harboured secret affection for the still somewhat vainglorious older man— particularly after l realising he was too much like his son for her to ever truly dislike. But the elder Malfoys acceptance of her was in her role as Draco’s partner at the DMLE — a role where she frequently saved his life. There was an enormous gulf between accepting Muggle-born Hermione Granger as their son’s colleague or even close friend, and accepting Muggle-born Hermione Granger permanently into their family, particularly when such acceptance would ultimately end the Malfoy family’s status as a purebloods.

It had not been lost on Hermione that outwardly both of Draco’s parents appeared delighted at the prospect of Astoria Greengrass becoming the future Lady Malfoy — something that hurt Hermione more than she’d expected, even when she has no right to that pain.

“I do not fucking care.” Draco’s voice was iron. “And for what it’s worth, this is a love match for Astoria either. It’s a business arrangement made by our respective families. I’m not saying she’ll be happy about it. But I won’t be breaking anyone’s heart.”

Oh. That was a relief. Hermione chewed her lip. “How long?”

“Tomorrow — by the end of day. I’d do it tonight, but that seems unnecessarily cruel.”

“Right.” Hermione thought quickly, her mind still reeling from the kiss and the fact she’d just admitted out loud she loved him. Although assuming she hadn’t misheard, Draco technically declared his love first. “I’m going home and I will stay there for the rest of the weekend. My floo will be closed to everyone who isn’t you. If I don’t hear from you by Sunday, I will put in my transfer request at the Ministry on Monday morning.”

“You will hear from me, Granger. You have my word. I intend to tell my parents tonight.”

“Tell her first.” Hermione blurted out the words before she could stop herself, apprehension working its way up her spine.

Draco was nonplussed. “Why? Honestly, Granger, as I said the entire thing was arranged by our parents anyway. They’ll have to be involved.”

“Tell her first and have someone else you trust — like Theo — with you when you tell your parents.”

“Hermione, I don’t —“

Her fears overtook her and she cut him off. “Every time your parents have invited me to dinner over the past six months, Lucius has been unsubtle in telling me he expects you to wed soon. Then at the office, you’ve been telling me about how much they were pressuring you into accepting a betrothal arrangement that you said you didn’t want. I’m not accusing him of anything, truly — but while I can most likely live with you deciding to proceed with your existing betrothal, not without some assurance it was your decision in truth.”

Draco’s eyes went wide as he grasped her meaning. “Point taken. I don’t think Father would do that, Granger. But I also don’t feel certain enough to say he’d never do it. So some precautions wouldn’t hurt. I’ll speak with Theo before he leaves tonight.” Draco tucked a curl behind her ear as he spoke, before leaning forward — clearly intent on kissing her again, stopping when he felt her hand pushing him back.

“Draco, I feel enough guilt over the earlier admittedly bloody amazing kiss, especially seeing how your Betrothal Ball is still on-going as we speak. To say nothing of how bad I feel about the emotional affair I didn’t quite realise I was having while still with Ron.”

Hermione had already been tempted to beg him to shag her against the bookshelves during visits to this part of the library. And that was while she was still trying to convince herself constantly thinking about the wizard before her was merely an idle fantasy that wasn’t hurting anyone. She had no confidence in her ability to resist sharing that desire if he kissed her like that again. “I’m going to leave now, before I do more things I regret. But I expect I to see you soon, Malfoy.”

“You will, Granger. I promise.”

Seized by hope and terror in equal measure, Hermione nodded, managing a small smile before apparating out of the Manor and into her tiny, darkened flat. Only then did she allow the floodgates to open, sliding to the floor as she wept, not even attempting to sort out which of her tangled emotions prompted the tears.

——————————————————————————————

When her floo roared to life the next evening, Hermione’s heart nearly beat out of her chest. Instinctively hiding her chewed nails, she frantically tamped down the blossoming surge of hope inside her before she has unambiguous confirmation from Draco. What if he was only coming over to let her know in person that he’d reconsidered?

So when Draco strode directly towards her from the fireplace and kissed as intensely as he had the night before, her soul cried out in relief. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, frantically pulling him, needing him as close as possible.

After a long moment, he pulled back to look at her, palpable relief etched across Draco’s own features as he stroked her back. Seemed as though he’d also worried she might reconsider.

“It’s done. Everyone knows. The Greengrasses are not happy, but as it turns out, Astoria wasn’t particularly upset. Especially not after I insisted the settlement for breaking the betrothal go to her and not her parents. Seems like she prefers independence over a marriage to me in any event.”

Well there was an unexpected balm for her conscience, but Hermione didn’t really care about Astoria Greengrass, not that she relished the thought of the witch being hurt. But she didn’t know the witch.

Narcissa and Lucius were another story. They’d become dear to her and she was terrified about what their reactions might be. “And your parents?” she asked, unable to hid her nervousness.

So she was taken aback when Draco’s eyes lit up with joy. He coughed, attempting — poorly — to hide a smirk. “About that. I have a letter for you from my father.”

Her nerves were stil on high alert as she opened the sealed parchment with trembling hands, frowning as she took in Draco’s poorly concealed grin.

My dear Miss Granger,

You wound me. After my concerted effort to welcome you into my ancestral home and indeed into our lives, you truly believe me to be capable of acting against my son’s wishes in matters of the heart? For shame, Miss Granger. For shame.

Since my efforts on this front also managed to escape my son’s notice, I will spell it out plainly for you here, just as I had to for Draco in person. I told you I expected my son to wed soon for the very same reason I told him he must either make his own choice or accept a betrothal from his parents. Namely, so you foolish children would realise you are perfect for each other and act accordingly!

Do not misunderstand me. Astoria Greengrass is a fine witch and she has left Malfoy Manor with more galleons than her parents would have ever deigned to give her and my heartfelt felicitations. But Miss Granger had the match proceeded, she would have been a consolation prize to more than just Draco.

My dear, after seeing first-hand the lamentable consequences of attempts to force my choices on Draco, I want nothing more than for you to marry my son and make him happy, as I (ahem) was always aware that you are in fact, his choice. I have loved none but my dearest Narcissia, but that is only because the fates smiled on me when I did not deserve it. Draco, however, deserves the world. Seeing as you are his world, I was compelled to act to see him happily settled with you at his side, permanently.

(As an aside, I think it uncouth for me to point out that no one — such as yourself — worthy of a Malfoy ought to be saddled with a Weasley. Further, I fear it would also be uncouth for me to discuss how often I pondered why a witch happy in her ‘relationship’ would spend so much of her limited free time in the home of her ‘colleague’ dining with his parents — occasionally doing so even when my son was unavailable, and Narcissa and I were blessed to have you all to ourselves. One might forgive me for assuming it meant you enjoyed our company. But I digress and as I do not wish to be uncouth, I will say neither of those things.)

While I must confess that your doubt has caused me some genuine hurt, in truth it is only a small injury to my pride and this letter is perhaps more harsh than the injury itself justifies. Narcissa and I are overjoyed the pair of you have finally, as I understand Muggles say, “gotten your shite together” and I expect (and in truth demand) to see even more of you at the Manor than we have in the past. All of the denizens of Malfoy Manor have missed you terribly over the past month — with Bunny left especially bereft by your absence. (In time, I hope you can forgive yourself for hurting a house elf. If it helps, I do not believe she intends to hold a grudge.)

For the sake of moving forward as a family, I will admit that given my history, your caution to Draco that he ought to involve Theo when telling us of his intentions was wise. One might even go so far as to describe it as a cunning choice on your part. (You know my dear, despite how often you claim your hat-stall was between those abominable do-gooders and Ravenclaw, your evasiveness on questioning has led me to wonder if Slytherin actually had the next best claim on you. If you confess this to me, all will be forgiven and I will forget you ever suspected me capable of treachery when in truth I only had the very best of fatherly intentions towards you both.)

I expect to see you both at the Manor soon. We intend to proceed with wedding planning, far more joyously now the correct bride is in place. (Narcissa tells me it would not be appropriate to have a second betrothal ball and was not swayed in the slightest when I pointed out it would actually be the first ever Malfoy Engagement Ball. I do hope your heart wasn’t set on that my dear, as I have reluctantly acceded my wife’s better judgement in this regard.) I have instructed my son to ask you himself properly, in the Muggle fashion. The ring belonged to my mother, who would have adored you had she lived in a world where meeting you was possible. Do not fret about the heirloom, it suits you — just as you are.

By now, Miss Granger, I hope you realise you have stolen the hearts of all the Malfoys. Please take care with them — for though we have a well-earned reputation for ferocity in most matters, our hearts are unaccustomed to the fray and thus, more fragile than you might expect. If it helps, pretend we are similar to house elves and treat us accordingly. (Of course, except for the time you ignored Bunny for a month. None of us could withstand such cruelty from a loved one.)

Narcissa and I love our son very much, and while he is in no way deficient, I must confess we always longed for a daughter. We are waiting for you, my dear. And please be merciful with Draco — as the cleverest among us, he was the first to recognize your true worth and has therefore been waiting for you the longest.

With great love and affection,

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

P.S., Turn around.

Feeling dazed, Hermione did as the letter bade. She was at turns bewildered, amused, mildly irritated and deeply touched by the words written by Lucius Malfoy. So utterly engrossed by the parchment in her hands, that Hermione hadn’t noticed Draco getting down on one knee.

He held out a ring — a simple one by Malfoy standards. A reasonably sized emerald, set with smaller diamonds on either side. Lucius was right, it did suit her — far better than the ridiculously enormous diamond which had graced Astoria’s finger the night before, a ring Hermione simultaneously loathed and deeply coveted.

Over the years, she had witnessed Draco in all manner of precarious situations. Their line of work was dangerous and as partners they had been frequently been in peril together. She was struck by how odd it was — to see fear on his face for first time since she’d acceded to Robards unenthusiastic plea for her to accept Draco as her partner, a request only made after the rest of the department had already refused. Strange to realized she could be the one provoke that fear, especially when she loved him so.

Draco exhaled before speaking, his voice clear as his eyes never left hers. “Hermione. If this feels too sudden, I’ll tell Father he can go hang and I will wait until you are ready. But you should know I’m not asking because he or Mother or anyone else wants me to. I want to, Granger — me. I want to know you are finally mine. In fact, I want the whole world to know you are mine. Because you — Hermione Jean Granger — you and no one else, are my choice. Now and always.”

Hermine bit her lip, nodding at him as tears slid freely down her cheeks — waiting.

Draco’s anxiety disappeared and his eyes filled with tears as well as the most beautiful smile she’d ever witnessed graced his face. “Hermione, will you marry me?”

“Yes. Of course I will, yes.”

She would have said more, but she was back in Draco’s embrace too quickly and her ability to speak was hindered for a long time thereafter — not that she was complaining. When they finally separated, clothing in disarray and ring on her finger, Hermione took a few minutes to respond to her future father-in-law. After she sent off her owl, Hermone dragged her fiancee into her bedroom without a word — not that he had any complaints either.

Once there, Draco set upon her like a man possessed, quickly divesting her of everything that wasn’t her engagement ring as he explained in detail exactly how he intended to fulfil every fantasy he had about her over the past three years. Seeing howthey were more or less the same fantasies Hermione had about him, she was more than happy to oblige.

Happy coincidence, that.

——————————————————————————————

Lucius Malfoy sat in his study at Malfoy Manor, immensely pleased with himself for finally getting his oblivious children on the right path. He was in the midst of his second self-congratulatory glass of firewhisky when an unfamiliar owl interrupted his reverie.Lucius’s curiosity already piqued and it only l grew on further inspection, when he discovered the letter was charmed so it could only be opened and read by himself. Quickly confirming there were no dark spells at play, Lucius opened the envelope and began to read.

My Dearest Lucius,

If you don’t irrevocably and unequivocally forgive me for my unintentional slight to you (as well as promise to never bring the matter up again in the future) I will convince Draco to elope with me within the month. Further, I will — with copious tears in my eyes — tell Narcissa that your letter is what pushed me to do so, thus laying the blame for depriving her of the opportunity to throw us a lavish wedding squarely at your feet.

However, should you graciously accept my terms without fuss (ahem), not only will I enthusiastically allow Narcissa to plan our wedding, I promise on the occasion of our tenth wedding anniversary I will tell you the unabridged version of my initial encounter with the sorting hat. Between us both, I do not think you will be disappointed by the tale.

Choose wisely.

Affectionately,

The Future Mrs. Hermione Granger-Malfoy

P.S.

I look forward to receiving your reply by the end of business on Friday; failing which, I will be forced to put my alternative plans in motion.

P.P.S.

Having said that, please do not feel like you have to rush your decision on my account. For the next few days at least, Draco and I expect to be quite preoccupied.

P.P.P.S.

I love you too.

The very instant Lucius read the last word, Miss Granger’s letter burst into flame, vanishing in a puff of smoke which destroyed all evidence of her affectionate threats. No one was present to witness it, but the brief light from the fire illuminated an actual grin on the face of Lord Malfoy, the likes of which was only rarely seen by his wife.

Lucius chuckled as he brought the firewhisky to his lips and took a hearty sip from the tumbler. Hermione Granger was going to fit in here beautifully.

He fervently hoped any future grandchildren would have curls.

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priorireverte · 3 years

Photo

Congratulations Storm!

Your application for Molly Weasley has been accepted. Of all the Weasleys I ever thought we’d get, Molly was not one of them. I am delighted to have been proved wrong.

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Storm, they/them

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I should be able to post a few times a week and keep up with the activity requirement! I wouldn’t apply if I didn’t think I had the time to actively participate.

ANYTHING ELSE: Graphic depictions of gore ( more of a squick than a trigger; it just makes me uncomfortable, but if I see it it’s not the end of the world! This would apply mostly to gifs and images / aesthetics though )

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Molly Elizabeth Weasley

BIRTHDATE: October 30, 1950

DEATHDATE: n/a

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Female ( she/her pronouns ); bisexual – Molly has always been comfortable with who she is, and her sexuality is no different. She realized she liked both men and women from a young age and was unashamed of the fact because, unlike muggle society, sexuality wasn’t deemed a problem like blood status would be. It didn’t matter in the end, though, because once she laid eyes on Arthur Weasley, she knew he was the one for her. No crush could compare to the pure love she felt for the bumbling redhead who stole her heart.

BLOOD STATUS: pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

OCCUPATION: Unemployed. Molly, at one point, considered returning to school as either a professor at Hogwarts or an educator for young wixen children ( sort of like muggle pre-school ), but after her marriage and many children, work was never in the cards. Now that she’s older, she’s once again considering offering a daycare of sorts for young children – she has time to spare with her children all grown up, and she’d rather be looking after and teaching children than left to her thoughts.

FACECLAIM: Amy Adams

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

POSTBELLUM

Molly had the disprivilege to live through not one, but two wars started by the same sick man, and they both had no small impact on her. During the First Wixen War, Molly wanted no part of it, staying firmly neutral even though her beliefs were aligned with the Order of the Phoenix. She and Arthur were married with a small brood of children by the time it picked up in earnest, after all, and her primary thought was to stay by her little boys to keep them as safe and innocent as possible – going out to fight and possibly die would do no one any favors. Her point was only proven in the death of her younger brothers, something that was a catastrophic blow on her soul. She and her brothers were close, after all, or as close as they would let her; Molly would have done anything for Gideon and Fabian. It was their deaths that made her question whether or not her choice to stay out of the war, as logical as it was, ended up being the right one after all. What if she’d been able to save them somehow? What if she’d been at least somewhat involved in the order and privy to their plans? Maybe she could’ve convinced them to stay home that evening. None of those regrets mattered, in the end – her brothers were dead, and soon after you-know-who was dead as well. Things were over… or so everyone thought. The Second Wixen War was unexpected, but Molly was more involved that time around. She didn’t volunteer to go out on missions; she still had children to look after. She was involved, though, particularly once Ron brought home young Harry Potter himself. Molly cared for Harry like her own son, and he was smack in the middle of the war to start with. She hated that her children were involved in a war, but this time would be different – this time, she would do all that she could to keep her family safe like she couldn’t with her brothers. Fred’s death took that resolve, chewed it up, and spat it right back at her. How foolish was she to think that her family, so involved as they were, would not be drastically impacted by the war yet again? Five years did little to ease the pain of losing a child, and she was certain she would be burdened with that pain for the rest of her life. She could still see her darling Fred’s face, still in death with the ghost of his last smile as she sobbed over his body just as much as she could see him alive and playing tricks on the family with George in her mind. Encumbered by grief like she was, Molly hardly paid much mind to the first report of the Returned making its way around. The second report piqued her interest ( and her confusion ), and despite herself, she kept watching and waiting for those she lost to return to her. She got her wish in the form of Fabian, young as the day she lost him, but that only made the Returned become something of an obsession of hers. If one brother was back, surely Gideon would be right on his heels? If her brothers were back, then surely she’d see her little Fred again, back from the dead and finally home? She knows the obsession isn’t healthy and is only making her grieving process worse, but Molly can’t bring herself to give a damn. She just wants her loved ones to finally come home.

PERSONALITY

Molly is and always has been a homebody. Family has always meant the world to her, the Prewetts having been a loving family who could lean on one another through thick and thin. While some would appreciate that and move on, Molly took that as a core part of who she was as a person and became what people dubbed “the mom friend” to her friends during school and beyond: she fussed over those she cared about greatly, to the point of being an annoyance, and worried over strangers if they looked like they needed a friendly face or shoulder to cry on. This tendency made her a rather outgoing person, and she was rarely judgmental if she could help it; Molly just wanted others to be happy. Some, however, saw this more as annoying than anything else. her caring nature backfired half of the time, painting her in the light of being far too nosey rather than concerned and wanting to be helpful. She’s guilty of eavesdropping on others, and while she says this is out of concern, she secretly knows it’s because she loves to listen to gossip as well. Molly likes to be in the know, whether she’s told directly or not. This has led to more than a few fights with friends, family, and strangers, but it’s always been part of who she was. Molly is unapologetic about who she is. These arguments are never small, either; Molly is short-tempered and can get easily annoyed when she’s not watching herself, and arguments where she’s been accused of something bring up this fiery part of her more than anything else. Despite her flaws, Molly tries to, first and foremost, be kind. Everyone needs a smiling face to look toward, and in a world as cruel as theirs, she tries to be that person for whoever needs it. If someone needs somewhere to stay, she’ll open her home up gladly; if someone needs to vent, she will lend an ear. She’s particularly fond of children ( if her own seven didn’t give that away ), and taking Harry and Hermione in whenever they wanted or needed to stay at the Burrow wasn’t even a question in her mind – of course they were welcome. war has taken much from Molly Weasley, but she refuses to let it take her kind heart.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY

The Prewetts were a loving, if loud and obnoxious, family, and Molly wouldn’t have had it any other way. She was the daughter of upstanding ministry workers, Mr. and Mrs. Prewett both being respectable in their departments and showing their children to be so as well. Respectable, however, didn’t necessarily mean disciplined, and most of Molly’s early childhood was filled with the yelling of her brothers, the soft croons of her parents’ voices, and the mewling of a stray cat Molly begged to keep ( creatively named Cat ). It was through her parents that she learned the value of truth and the power of words, learning from a young age that her greatest weapon won’t be her wand, but the words that come out of her mouth. A debate is just as deadly as a spell, her father would say. Speaking the truth shows the true value of a person, rather than lies that anyone can spill from their tongue, her mother would add. Molly took both to heart, making her quick-witted and stubborn to a fault when she knew she was right. As a Weasley, life was quite similar, though her role was reversed. Her home was still loud with the sound of screaming children, the heavy thundering of footsteps running through the house echoing what she experienced as a girl. Instead of partaking in the running, however, she was instead the one to scold like her mother did, but never fully discourage. Her family was part Prewett, after all, and Prewetts were nothing if not a little wild. It was she that taught her children the power of words, rather than the one learning them, and listening in as her husband taught their children how to be kind and judge others based on character rather than anything else. Life as a Weasley was dancing in the kitchen with her husband in the early hours of the morning, breakfast cooking while the radio crooned in their ears. Life as a Weasley was just as full of love as life as a Prewett was, and Molly cherished every moment. She always would.

HISTORY

Life was a series of moments, and Molly’s was no exception. Those moments formed her into who she was, after all; who would she be without being sorted into Gryffindor? She never would have met Arthur, whom she swore to this day that she fell in love with at first sight ( that wasn’t quite true; no first year knew love like theirs at such a young age – she fell hard, but love didn’t come until later, when she knew she would marry him before they both left Hogwarts ). Hogwarts introduced her to her friends, people who would become close enough to family that she’d introduce them to her children as aunts and uncles alike. Hogwarts made her a Prefect, though not Head Girl, and brought out her motherly side even more as she helped first years adjust to being away from home in an overwhelming environment. Being a Prefect prepared her to care for young children, though she still fumbled her way through Bill and Charlie’s infancy – she was much more prepared by the time Percy came around. Her children introduced her to their friends, who would grow their family even further ( both in marriage and in simple friendship; all friends were family in Molly’s book ). Each person she was introduced to expanded Molly Weasley’s capacity to love and to be loved in return, which made the Battle of Hogwarts that much harder as she saw others that she knew lying dead in the rubble. She mourned for Fred, but she mourned for the friends of her children as well, and for the friends she made through the order. It all hurt so much, but she’d rather take that hurt than lose that capacity to love.

OOC EXPLORATION:

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I was introduced to this rp by Nic, aka Fabian Prewett, and it looks absolutely phenomenal! The plot is super intriguing, and I honestly can’t wait to start playing in this verse with everyone.

ANYTHING ELSE? https://pin.it/23mXrSb <<< I wrote Molly elsewhere too who had a connection to Bellatrix, so ignore that section! Every other section is relevant to Molly here however.

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

This section is only if you are applying for a character that does not yet have a biography written (i.e. a character not listed on the character page). Any character can be applied for, so long as they can realistically fit into the plot and add substance to the roleplay! It may be a good idea to send a message to the main before applying to a non-bio character so we can work with you.

CHARACTER CONTRIBUTION: Molly has a ton of connections to characters both already in play ( Fabian, George, Ginny ) and available to play ( Bellatrix, the golden trio, potentially Fred and Gideon if they’re brought in down the line ), so I think it would be interesting to have her there to bounce off of others and let her bounce off of them in return. She’s a pillar of support to many people and is happy to offer that support to many more, but I plan to make her more than that. Molly is dynamic as a person: she’s kind and warm, yet fiery and firm in her beliefs. She has an obsession with the Returned because of how many people she’s lost in such a short span of time, to the point where she might use her free time to try and figure out how they’re coming back even though she’s not part of the Ministry and is missing a lot of critical information. Whether that goes anywhere is up to the admin team, of course, but it’s a line i’d love to look at in more detail.

PRESENT: Though life has improved slightly over the past five years, Molly is still very much riddled with grief and a shadow of who she was a decade ago. She still has her warm heart and does her best to be who people expect her to be, but sometimes she’ll see a shadow, or see a flash of red hair, and fall into herself once more while she mourns Fred’s loss. News of the Returned only made this grieving process worse, because instead of learning to move on, Molly clings to the fact that she’ll see her loved ones once more – something that intensifies once Fabian returns to them. Now it’s more akin to an obsession than anything, and Molly wouldn’t stop the obsession even if she wanted to. She just wants her loved ones to finally come home where they belong.

#prioriacceptance #molly weasley

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dramioneasks · 7 years

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FAQ Fics: Pro-Snape

A Quest of Paladins by bambu345 - MA, 18 chapters - After the disastrous events atop the Astronomy Tower, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape flee wizarding Britain. After months on the run, they join forces with those of The Chosen One and his two friends. Will they be able to succeed in defeating Voldemort? (Need to have an LJ account and be a member of the community to read this fic)

Take My Second Chance By: Glalie773 - T, one-shot - Severus lost his first chance. He's giving his second one to Draco. "Essentially, another Potter would win another Lily Evans from another Severus Snape." That. Could. Not. Happen. D/HG, one-shot! Snape-centric

The Killing Curse By: Dragons and Otters - T, 19 chapters - Though no successful attempts have been properly documented, love is a powerful magic that can even prevent death. HP Second Wizarding War AU story. Dramione. Follows canon until the skirmish at Malfoy Manor where Hermione was not saved along with Harry and Ron. HEA. EWE. [alternate not-HEA ending] COMPLETE.

I Am Jack's Broken Heart By: Kyonomiko - M, 26 chapters - Draco returns to Hogwarts for his final year, unknown to nearly everyone. Through a magical mishap, Hermione Granger discovers his secret. She just gets the secret really wrong. Dramione EWE. Dramione Fanfiction Awards Spring 2017 and Enchanted Awards 2017 Finalist

Blood Traitor By: Zalia - M, WIP - Draco Malfoy has been living a lie to protect the girl he loves. He has inherited the Veela gene and on his next birthday he will become the first male Veela for three hundred years. Canon, (except the epilogue of HPDH).

Children of the Dark - Year 1 By: cleotheo - T, 12 chapters - It’s time for Harry, Hermione and Draco to start school. But what happens when two of the golden trio aren’t who they appear to be and are best friends with a Slytherin? Dark Hermione! Dark Harry! First in a seven part series.

Children of the Dark - Year 2 By: cleotheo - T, 16 chapters - The trio are back for their second year at Hogwarts, and this time they’re armed with the knowledge of how to open the legendary Chamber of Secrets. Things are about to get dangerous at Hogwarts. Dark Hermione! Dark Harry! Part two of a seven part series.

Children of the Dark - Year 3 By: cleotheo - T, 22 chapters - It’s third year for Hermione, Harry and Draco. With Voldemort preparing to return to full strength, he has no mission for the trio. But it’s hardly going to be a dull year with an escaped prisoner of the loose and a new Defence Professor, both of whom seem to have a connection to Harry. Dark Hermione! Dark Harry! Part three of a seven part series.

Children of the Dark - Year 4 By: cleotheo - T, 28 chapters - With Voldemort back, and the Triwizard Tournament taking place at Hogwarts, it should be an exciting year for the trio. As the trio face their fourth year at Hogwarts, romance blossoms for Hermione and Draco, while danger lurks for Harry. Dark Hermione! Dark Harry! Part four of a seven part series

Children of the Dark - Year 5 By: cleotheo - T, 40 chapters - It’s fifth year for the trio, and it’s finally time for Voldemort to strike and get rid of Dumbledore. But before that changes are afoot in the wizarding world. It’s time for a new Minister of Magic, and of course, a new Defence Professor. Then of course there’s the matter of one final year undercover for the trio. Dark Harry! Dark Hermione! Part five of a seven part series.

Children of the Dark - Year 6 By: cleotheo - T, 36 chapters - It’s sixth year and the truth is finally out about Harry and Hermione. However, that doesn’t mean it’s a quiet year for the trio as the Order are still out there, vowing to take down the dark. Dark Harry! Dark Hermione! Part six of a seven part story.

Children of the Dark - Year 7 By: cleotheo - T, 40 chapters - It’s seventh year and the trio are entering their last year at Hogwarts. With the dark in control and the Order all but defeated, things should be plain sailing for Hermione, Draco and Harry. But their final year of school, will be just like the previous six - full of adventure and excitement. Seventh and final part of a seven part story. Dark Hermione! Dark Harry!

The Demise of Severus Snape By: Rumaan - K, 6 chapters - After half his classroom is destroyed by yet another argument between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape snaps and hauls the Head Girl in front of Professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster ropes him into a bet concerning the irritating pair and, before long, he's having to use his wiles to stop them from falling in love. AU EWE

Scar Tissue - TheWildChild - T, WIP - A few years ago, Draco's life changed for the worst. Still, he could live with it, he could adapt. But when another werewolf comes to Hogwarts to teach the students, it starts to get dangerous. Their absences and behavior towards each other raise some eyebrows and Draco is afraid that a curious mind might even end up seeing right through him.

Lily Potter's Biggest Secret By: StrongHermione - M, 47 chapters - Following a moment of passion, Lily Potter finds herself in a difficult position. She does her best to hide it. What happens when seventeen years later, her biggest secret comes to light? A story chronicling the formation of a family. Rated M for swearing and suggestive themes. AU, EWE?, Post War, Mild OOC, Spoilers. Pairings: HG/DM HP/GW SS/OC - COMPLETE

Presque Toujours Pur - ShayaLonnie - M, 38 chapters - Bellatrix’s torture of Hermione uncovers a long-kept secret. The young witch learns her true origins in a story that shows the beginning and end of the Wizarding wars as Hermione learns about her biological father and the blood magic he dabbled in that will control her future (Slight AU OotP—DH) Dramione - Pureblood!Hermione - Rated M for language, violence, and sexual scenes.

Marked By: olivieblake - M, 39 chapters - Two dead. Three missing. The Order is down a leader and another innocent takes the Mark. Where is the Chosen One, and who killed Draco Malfoy? Dramione, sequel to “Clean.”

The Dragon’s Bride - Rizzle - M, 61 chapters - 7th year. Draco & Hermione awaken in a Muggle hotel room, naked, hung-over and tattooed. They also happen to be married. Thus begin a desperate search for a solution to their sticky situation.

Through the eyes of a child by jamies_lady - NC17, 75 chapters - Life changes forever when a child falls through time and lands in Malfoy Manor.

Bound - goldhorse - NC17, 58 chapters - When your worst enemy becomes the key to your survival, how do you cope?

The Inevitable By: Beanacre0 - T, 21 chapters - Hermione Granger’s world fell apart the night her parents died. Now, to make matters worse, Ginny has turned Harry and Ron against her. She is wasting away, but no-one seems to notice. Can the Slytherin Prince save her? Alternate Endings. Ginny bashing

A Year and A Day - Mistrus - T, 53 chapters - It’s one thing to marry your enemy but it is completely idiotic to actually fall in love with him. Could it be Stockholm Syndrome? I doubt it. It could have been necessity, I mean I was abandoned by Harry and I felt alone. That must be it.

Out of the Silent Planet - ianthe_waiting - NC-17, 39 chapters - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape’s final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve’ something of importance.

Desperate Measures - cleotheo - M, 36 chapters - When the war against Voldemort drags on, what lengths will Hermione go to, to be with the man she loves?

Riddle This By: CJRed - M, WIP - Everything Hermione knows about the war, herself, and the wizarding world is a lie. Friends become enemies, enemies become friends, and Dumbledore is not a leader of justice and light. With Snape as her mentor and a father she never expected, Hermione will ensure Harry's survival and kick it to the ministry. Dramione. Lemons. Character deaths. Weasley Bashing. Updates weekly. (M)

Tender Vengeance by Margot Le Faye - MA, WIP - Setting out to capture Ginny Weasley, the Death Eaters also take Hermione Granger. Instead of killing the Muggle-born outright, Voldemort subjects her to an insidious bit of dark magic which turns her into a prize for one of his faithful.

The Griffin and the Dragon By: Lizard23 - T, 22 chapters - Reeling after the loss of one of her closest friends, Hermione continues in her search for the remaining Horcruxes. An unlikely ally arises from the dust as the final battle looms ominously ahead. HGDM. AU to Deathly Hallows.

The Wager By: Andy'sGirl4485 - M, one-shot - Draco makes a bet with Blaise that will change everything. "You pick the girl and I'll have her eating out of my hand by Valentine's Day." "Any girl at all?" Blaise's grin was positively evil. Funny bit of fluff I wrote for Valentine's Day. AU one shot.

Love in the Time of Death Eaters By: gnrkrystle - M, 24 Chapters : Hermione makes a plan to lose her virginity. When she offers it to Draco, it changes everything. With a new prophecy and a war approaching, what will this change mean for the Golden Trio and the outcome of the war?

The Painting Knows By: frostykitten - T, 24 chapters - “Well, I vote we prove destiny wrong. There’s no way we’re meant to be together or any nonsense like that.” Draco said. Hermione forced a smile, knowing that it probably looked like a grimace. “I second that.”

The Bandit and the Cinder Girl By: xfsista - M, 3 chapters - The story of a servant girl and a prince, both with secrets to hide. A familiar fairy tale with added magic and a Dramione twist. AU

A Veela Tale By: Severus’ Malfoy Maiden/Bunnyhops - M, 18 chapters - He turns 21 tomorrow. He’s worried. He will come of age and it will start. His father told him what to expect, but still… fear of the unknown. He would soon know what his fate held.

Future Adventures By: cleotheo - M, 11 chapters - During a joint Potions/Charms lesson, Draco is accidentally given an overdose of a potion that will allow him to experience time in the future. During his time in the future he sees plenty of unexpected things, but will he like how his life is going to turn out?

Love always conquers By: MoonShadowAMR - T, 16 chapters - eventh year at Hogwarts, brings Hermione face to face with her biggest fear. The death of her parents. So her life takes another turn? Over 50.000 hits. WOW!

17 By: emzi-jayne - M, 48 chapters - 17. Seems like an ordinary enough number. But to me it was when my life changed. I am Hermione Granger. And my whole life was a lie.

Thanks to all those who helped.

#FAQ Fics #pro snape #snape

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celticnoise · 4 years

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CQN today continues our EXCLUSIVE extracts from the late, great Celtic legend Tommy Gemmell, ‘All The Best’, co-authored by Alex Gordon.

Today, the Hoops icon reveals all about his time as manager of Dundee when he was reunited with his friend Jimmy Johnstone.

Alas, the signing was destined to collapse. Here is the real story, told in Tommy’s own words.

JIMMY JOHNSTONE awakened me from a deep sleep by rattling on the door of my hotel at around 1.30 in the morning. There was no point in taking him to task at that particular moment because reason had been washed away in a sea of alcohol.

He swayed from side to side, looked at me, focused and mumbled, ‘Hi, boss.’ With that, he trundled off to his room. I was more frustrated than angry. The following morning I grabbed Jinky. Normally, I drove him to our training ground at Strathmartin Hospital where they had excellent facilities, including a lush playing surface. There were also a big hill. Guess where Jinky was heading that morning? The Wee Man was still half-drunk and reeking of booze when I virtually threw him into my car. I knew Jinky could take a cargo, so I wondered what on earth had he been drinking to leave him in this condition. It would have to have been substantial, that’s for sure. I’ve got a fair idea of what I’m talking about because I was known to quaff an ale or two with him and he possessed an exceptional tolerance level to booze.

My heart sank. This just wasn’t a convivial pint or two after training. This was a full-blown bevvy session. I got him to the training ground and said to Willie Wallace, ‘Work that wee bastard to a standstill today. Put him through the wringer. I’m not letting him away with murder.’ Wispy didn’t hold back. After the players had gone through their normal routines, Jinky was called back for some extras.

Wispy handed him a medicine ball and told him to carry it up to the top of the hill and back again five times. Jinky took the ball and completed the chore before handing it back to his former team-mate. Wispy gave it back to him. ‘Let’s have another five, Jinky,’ he ordered. The Wee Man groaned, but he knew what it was all about. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Somewhere in between those runs Jinky was violently sick. He was coughing and choking, but stuck to the task.

After his session on the hill, he thought that it was over for the day. No chance. Wispy gave him the medicine ball again. ‘We’re going through another routine, I’m afraid, Wee Man. We need to get you fit.’

Jinky was told to run from the eighteen-yard line to the goal-line and back five times. He glowered at the wretched weight that was the medicine ball and did as he was told. He looked as though he was about to expire at the end of that routine. ‘Now do it five times from the halfway-line to the goal-line and back,’smiled Wispy, who, if he hadn’t made it in football, would have fitted in quite nicely to a role with the Gestapo.

Jinky must have been aching all over, but he said nothing. Off he went to complete that particular task. When he returned he looked at Wispy and asked, ‘You want me to run the full length of the pitch now with this effin’ thing, don’t you?’ ‘Got it in one, Jinky,’ replied my No.2. ‘Off you go.’

His lungs must have been burning and his legs must have been in terrible distress. He did as he was told, though. He must have been on the point of collapse when I told him to go and get a shower. Sounds drastic, I know, but I was absolutely desperate for the Wee Man not to let anyone down, especially himself.

He didn’t utter a word in the car on our way back to Dens Park. I didn’t even get a ‘See you later, boss’ as he left. I wasn’t bit surprised to later learn that he bodyswerved the local hostelries that afternoon. He headed straight back to the hotel, didn’t even have a quick one at the bar with the regulars, went to his room and crawled under the bed sheets. Lesson learned? Remember, it’s Jimmy Johnstone we’re talking about.

I thought it would be a good idea to pair Jinky with Gordon Strachan in training. Wee Gordy was another who appeared to be in awe of Jinky and I thought his natural enthusiasm would spark my pal. It appeared to be doing the trick for a few days, too, until Gordy injured a toe which became infected. A few days’ rest was required.

Jinky picked up a strain of some kind around the same time. Boredom kicked in big-style, unfortunately, with the Wee Man. He couldn’t even get to training in the morning and there were many other distractions. Jinky had taken a liking to his new team-mate and it was reciprocated by a fresh-faced teenager.

I never had any doubts about Gordon’s dedication and application. I also knew he was a youngster who kept his word. I was told Manchester United had offered him a trial before he actually signed any contract at Dundee. However, because he wouldn’t go back on a promise, he rejected United and put pen to paper on schoolboy forms at Dundee, left school at fifteen and became an apprentice on the ground staff in 1972. Ironically, he was signed by John Prentice, the manager who gave me my international debut in 1966 against England at Hampden. That man could spot a player.

I also knew Hibs had missed out on him after a row between his father and Easter Road boss Eddie Turnbull over expenses that had already been agreed. Turnbull – known to everyone in football as Ned – thought chairman Tom Hart had been too generous and wanted to cut them. Gordon’s dad wasn’t having any of that and any possible move to his boyhood favourites ended there and then. Not one of Ned’s best bits of business, that’s for sure.

It must have been really hard work for Gordon as a young kid. He hailed from Muirhouse, a tough council housing scheme in Edinburgh, and was on the bus at 6.15 in the morning to take him to the city’s Waverley Station and then onto Dundee. Rain, hail or shine, Gordon was on that train every day. He was never lonely on that journey because I think about half the Dundee squad came from the capital. Gordon would have travelling companions in George Stewart, Bobby Robinson, Bobby Ford, Ian Anderson, Alex Caldwell and George Mackie among others.

Maybe it would have been better if we had held our training sessions in Edinburgh! Whereas his mates could travel back after the morning training session, Gordon, as the only apprentice in the group, had to remain behind to do all sorts of other menial duties around the ground. He couldn’t have got home much before 7.30 in the evening. No-one ever heard him grumble.

Actually, I first saw him when I joined the club from Nottingham Forest in the summer of 1973. I got to the ground a couple of weeks ahead of the pre-season schedule and I spotted some kids having a five-a-sides game behind one of the goals. ‘Can I join in?’ I asked. ‘Are you any good?’ responded Strachan with a cheeky grin. ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said. I was hugely impressed by him right away.

He was just a wee boy, really, but he had so much ability. He was always looking for the ball, always wanting to be in the thick of the action. He was non-stop and that endeavour never left him at any stage in his career. From a raw kid to a veteran at Coventry City via Aberdeen, Manchester United and Leeds United, playing into his forties, he never lacked enthusiasm. Ron Atkinson, the manager who took him from Pittodrie to Old Trafford in 1984, once said, ‘There’s no-one fitter at his age – except, maybe, Raquel Welch.’ Now that’s a compliment.

So, I had nothing to worry about Gordon as far as his professionalism was concerned. And when I paired him with Jinky I genuinely believed they would feed off each other. I also told Gordon to push the Wee Man and I thought Jinky would respond. Well, it looked sound enough in theory. Things can often go slightly awry in practice, as we all know.

Anyway, one day Jinky, with nothing to do, invited the injured and sidelined Gordon out for lunch at the Queen’s Hotel in the city. Innocent enough and there was no way my young player would knock back such an invite from a true football legend. Jinky was always good company and had a steady line of anecdotes. Wee Gordy was hooked.

The drink was flowing by the time lunch was over and done with. Now, Gordy was no drinker. He was a lightweight and I was aware of that, but it’s easy sometimes to lose inhibitions once radical thought is dismissed as the alcohol goes to work.

Gordy would have been trying to keep pace with Jinky without even realising how much he was consuming. He always admitted he wasn’t in the same league as Jinky as a footballer. He discovered that day he wasn’t in the same league as Jinky as a drinker, either. Not too many were, in fact.

A barman at the Queen’s later told me my two players had consumed four bottles of wine with their meal. The bright thing after that would have been to go home and have a bit of a kip. Indeed, I later found out that they went to Strachan’s home, had a few more drinks and then fished out a ball and had an impromptu kickabout with some local kids in the street. That sight must have bewildered passers-by.

After that, it was off to the pub. And then another pub. They must have been fairly puggled by this stage because someone thought it would be a great idea to get a taxi to Errol and have a few more in the Central Hotel. Not a particularly good idea considering the hotel was only fifty yards across the road from the Commercial Hotel, where the proprietor, of course, was a certain Mr.T. Gemmell Esq.

I noted Jinky hadn’t returned, but wasn’t overly concerned. He could have been fishing by the Tay for all I knew. That notion was knocked on the head when one of my regulars came in. ‘Hey, Tommy, did you know two of your players are over at the Central trying to drink the place dry?’ he asked. Not for the first time my heart sank. ‘Jinky and who else?’ I responded. ‘Wee Gordon Strachan’s with him. He’s totally blootered. Wee Jinky’s no’ much better.’

I was fuming. How stupid could they be? It was bad enough going on a pub crawl, but to do it just across the road from their manager was unbelievable. I marched across the road, just in time to see a sloshed Strachan staggering through the door. He weaved unsteadily towards me without lifting his head.

‘Where the hell are you going?’ I bellowed.

‘Where the hell am I going? I don’t even know where the hell I am,’ slurred Strachan.

‘Do you know who you’re talking to?’

‘I don’t even know who I am.’

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny. Then he focused, blinked one eye, and managed to make out my image and burst into tears.

‘Sorry, boss,’ he uttered. ‘Sorry, sorry, boss. I don’t suppose you could get me a taxi?’

‘Get over the road,’ I ordered. ‘I’ll deal with you in a moment.’ I then went into the bar to give Jinky a piece of my mind. The wee bugger had scarpered. The sixth sense that came to his aid so often on the football pitch worked just as well when he was blotto off it.

‘You’ve just missed him, Tommy,’ the barman informed me. ‘He left a couple of minutes ago.’ I caught up with Strachan and all the time he was crying, ‘Sorry, boss, really, really sorry. Can you get me a taxi?’

There was little point in giving Strachan a dressing down. He was obviously out the game. I made sure he got home in one piece – he would now be his wife Lesley’s problem – and I awaited with the greatest of interest when Jinky might grace my establishment with his presence. Eventually, there was a racket at the front door. It was about two o’clock in the morning. I opened the door and there was the Wee Man.

Putting it mildly, he was the worse for wear. Before I could say a word, he looked up, bleary-eyed and muttered, ‘Ach, we were only having a wee bit fun.’ I got a hold of him and huckled him to his room and chucked him into his bed. As I closed the door behind me I heard a muffled, ‘Ach, it was only a couple of effin’ drinks.’

You can’t keep things like that quiet for long in a hamlet such as Dundee. Ian Gellatly, the chairman, would have heard about it minutes afterwards. The following day, he asked me how we were going to deal with it. ‘Leave it to me,’ I said. To be honest, I wasn’t interested in fining the pair or suspending them.

Once they had properly sobered up, I had a good old-fashioned heart-to-heart with both. Gordon Strachan swore it would never happen again. As far as I am aware, that remained the case throughout his career. At least, Jinky did him a huge favour that day. My old team-mate was contrite, too. ‘It just got a wee bit out of hand,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see it coming. Sorry, Big Man.’

I am not one for holding grudges, so that was the end of it as far as I was concerned. The newspapers, of course, had been tipped off by some helpful local worthies and my phone was red hot for hours. I managed to fend off most of their enquiries and, whether they believed me or not, the matter never hit the headlines. Those were the days where you knew most of the reporters and you trusted them.

I have to be completely honest here and say I was heartbroken that things did not work out for Jimmy Johnstone at Dundee. It could have turned out to be a grande finale to a wonderful career. That would have been fitting after all Jinky had contributed to the game.

He deserved sustained applause at the final curtain on what really wasn’t a job of work but his vocation. Alas, it wasn’t to be. He started only two games for us and made a substitute appearance in another. We knew it was all over after about three months. I had the secretary draw up a waiver stating that Jinky’s contract with Dundee Football Club was being terminated with immediate effect. I promised to pay him the second part of his signing-on fee.

I don’t think he was even thinking about the money when he signed the form. We had been through so much together, going way back to the days when I trained to be an electrician at Burnbank Technical College and Jinky took a course in welding. That was in 1960. This was 1977. There had been a lifetime in between.

He signed the waiver, handed it back, looked at me, smiled and said, ‘Thanks, anyway, Big Man.’

My heart plummeted like a stone. We had a wee cuddle and he was on his way. His taxi arrived at the front door of Dens Park and, with that trademark cheeky grin, he glanced back at me, smiled again and waved. I felt my eyes welling up. There was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. If an individual can’t get emotional at a time like that then they should check and make sure they still have a pulse. As the vehicle took off, I couldn’t help but wonder about the Wee Man’s destination.

Would he get a chance at another league club? He had just turned thirty-three and I knew a focused Jimmy Johnstone could still play on for another couple of years. After turning out in nine games for Shelbourne in Ireland, he had a short spell in the Highlands with Elgin City and then spent six months with Junior side Blantyre Celtic. It was all over in 1979, two years after I had taken him to Dundee. Two dreadfully wasted years in the career of a footballing genius.

Gordon Strachan must have seen the error of his ways that fateful day in Dundee. He was still playing first class football with Coventry City at the age of forty.

TOMORROW: Tommy Gemmell reveals more football secrets.

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