readthesign

[readthesign]

This muse has been moved over to my new multimuse- @whatsbehindthefacade where I'm gonna make a fresh start

[readthesign]

"Some might go to the Three Broomsticks, but anybody who wants a proper drink will know to wait till I open again and that any complaining will get them put out on their arse," Aberforth snorted softly. There had been a handful who had tried their luck when he'd first taken over the Hogs Head, thinking that he might be a pushover but they'd quickly realised they were mistaken when he'd hexed them and thrown them out, and there hadn't been any issues since.

He had a reputation, and it did it's job.

Leading the way to the upstairs room, he made sure the fire was lit, pulling the two comfier armchairs over in front of it, though there was always the option of the small cot at the side as well, if Credence felt like he'd be more comfortable lying down.

Waiting until his son settled himself, Aberforth dug about before producing a large knitted blanket. It was clearly somewhat aged and a little worn, but it had been well loved and carefully mended wherever it needed it, and gently he draped it across his boy.

@obscurebelief asked:  “You look exhausted.”

My muse has been having the same nightmare for weeks now and it’s taking it’s toll. Send me “You look exhausted.” for my muse’s response.

Aberforth knew he looked awful. Nightmares were not an unfamiliar occurrence for the younger Dumbledore brother, but these past few weeks had been particularly terrible, the same dream tormenting him night after night, leaving him waking in a cold sweat, unable to get back to sleep. Each night, it came back again. It always started off as the memory, the memory of that day in Godric’s Hollow. Raised voices, the pain of the Cruciatus curse lancing off his body, raised wands, flashes of spells, before suddenly it all stopped and Ariana lay dead on the floor. Except now when he looked down it wasn’t his sister lying there anymore, with eyes unseeing, but his son. 

That was always when he woke up, always feeling the urge to go and check, to make sure his son still breathed in the room across the hall. After that summer he had hoped he would never have to see Gellert Grindelwald again, and doing so had only brought up all those bad memories to the surface once more. Scrubbing his hand across his face, he sighed.

“Ain’t been sleeping too good.”

[readthesign]

Aberforth nodded quickly, and it took all of his self control to not just push past Bathilda and charge up the stairs to find his sister and make sure she was okay, to give her a hug and reassure her that everything was going to be alright. She must be terrified, after whatever it was that had happened, and right now his whole focus was solely on her.

Perhaps it was because it made it easier to just focus on Ariana, rather than to think of the loss of their mother and the grief that was piercing his heart like a dagger. Ariana needed him more, so he needed to push that grief aside and concentrate on the here and now.

As such, when Bathilda led the way, he followed quickly up the stairs, hands fidgeting as Bathilda opened the door. Ariana he could see through it, curled up in the corner, knees pulled up to her chest, still in her nightgown, the slightly raggedy stuffed bear clutched tight in her arms and blonde hair falling across her face.

@regretismyconstantcompanion | plotted starter

Delivering bad news was never pleasant.

And this...this was the last piece of news he would ever want to impart. To a family already torn apart, to have to tell two young boys- because that's what they were, even if one was almost entirely finished his schooling- that their last remaining parent had perished, it was possibly the worst thing he had to communicate.

As it was, he'd sent for Albus first. Albus was older, calmer, less prone to outbursts, and it would perhaps serve well to give him some space and time to grieve himself before Aberforth would be told. The fifteen year old was considerably more unpredictable after all.

[readthesign]

Reading was one of the few things he had, especially given how he didn't dare to try and go outside much in the daylight hours. When he did go out he only went as far as the goat shed, and even then it was done so incredibly carefully so as not to be seen. More often he only went out at night, so as to avoid the risk entirely.

If he were seen, it would only lead to questions, Mama had always said. If people found out, they might try and take him away from his family, and that thought was one of the most terrifying to the younger boy. His family were his rock.

"I like the fountain of fair fortune," Aberforth says softly. Even though he knew the point was that the fountain wasn't magic, he still thought the idea of a magic fountain appealing, the thought that there might be something which might help him not be the way he was.

@magicblooms | plotted starter

There were few people in Godric's Hollow who knew that there was a third Dumbledore sibling.

Of course, everyone knew the eldest, Albus, a very intelligent and polite young man by all means. And everyone also knew the younger, Ariana, a sweet young girl seldom seen without a smile, a few years younger than her brother. They both went off to a fancy school every September, and as far as most were aware, had left their mother Kendra home alone until the holidays rolled around.

Almost nobody knew about Aberforth. And now Kendra was gone.

Middle child, he'd never been to school, spent most of his time either inside or curled among the goats, the darkness that curled inside him soothed a little by their gentle presence, by the familiarity of nature. Though since Kendra's death, he'd spent more time hiding away in his room, only seldomly coaxed out by Ariana. Today though, the house quiet, he had ventured out, padding down the stairs in bare feet to seek out something to eat.

Except there was somebody in the kitchen. Albus' new friend, the boy who had been staying with Miss Bagshot. Miss Bagshot knew about Aberforth. She was nice, if a little odd. One hand gripping the banister, Aberforth paused on the bottom step, clearly torn on whether to flee back upstairs or continue.

[readthesign]

It had not been the easiest few weeks.

Returning from Bhutan, his focus had been on making sure his son was comfortable, that he was stable and looked after. For so long, he'd wondered, for so long he'd imagined how things might have been different. And now, finally, he'd brought his boy home. How long they might have, he couldn't say, but he was determined to make the best of every minute, to try and convey how much love he held for him in every moment. His boy had been through so much, and he deserved to be spoiled.

As such, he'd been distracted from other affairs, and it hadn't been until Minerva had come to the bar that he'd known that there were other concerns going on, particularly with his brother. Because of course his brother was still hung up on that bastard. It seemed now like it didn't matter what Grindelwald would do, it would never change how Albus felt. Aberforth couldn't understand it. But then again, his brother had always been the sort to hold on to things. They had that in common.

It was how he found himself moving through the castle corridors and ducking into the otherwise empty classroom, silent as he moved across the floor and sunk down to sit beside his brother, shoulder to shoulder.

"Who will love you now, Dumbledore?"

Those words echoed through the professors head over, and over... And over.

He was more than happy Mr. Kowalski had guided Queenie Goldstein back to their side of the currently waging wizarding war.. But at what cost? He was happy for the pair, truly- But it caused a dull, bitter ache in the professors chest, knowing that it would never be possible for himself and Grindelwald to have such a happy ending. He had barely been holding himself together ever since the blood troth broke, the way Gellert placed his hand over his heart silently begging, pleading him not to go.

To stay with him.

It had taken all of his self restraint and strength to walk away from his husband then, when every part of him was screaming at him to stay. He had never felt such pure and utter agonizing pain as he had when the blood troth had been broken. Blood magic- It was quite powerful. To break something as powerful and sacred as a blood oath.. consequences would be forthcoming. It was why he had fought so desperately, refused to fight him until he has no other choice. He carried the broken pieces of the blood troth with him, even if he was unable to feel his lover through the broken pieces.

Now it had been several weeks since the professor had had contact with anyone outside of Hogwarts, even one Newt Scamander, which was especially unusual. He taught his classes, then reserved himself to his lonesome isolation. He couldn't let anyone, especially his students see him.. Not like this. The horrible way he was distraught and in agony for these past few weeks, emotionally and physically, haunted and plagued by nightmares was almost too much to bare alone.

Almost.

He often found himself sat in front of the mirror of erised in the castle, hand against the glass where his love would have been had it been real, accompanied by a nice bottle of fireball whiskey. Men had made themselves go mad in front of it, where he sat now. Maybe he would go mad.. Mad with grief, with heartache.

He felt himself breaking. @readthesign

[readthesign]

As a child/young teenager, Aberforth liked to keep his hair long, which, given his curls, could get quite unruly. On more than one occasion he had to be practically pinned down (sometimes with Albus' help) so Kendra could even just trim it. Ariana loved to play with it though, and he would let her braid it from time to time. After her death, just after returning to Hogwarts, he chopped his hair off and kept it that way until considerably later in life. He was close to sixty before he let it start to grow long again.

[readthesign]

Ask me questions about my muse.  Is there something you are curious about?  Ask away!  I’m open to give as much insight as I can! 

[readthesign]

angst prompts part three.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“i can’t— i can’t tell you. i can’t. don’t make me say it.”

“you know… you know it’s, like… it’s not on you. you know that, right?”

“are you.. sure this okay?”

“please.. don’t lie to me.”

“you owe me the truth, at least.”

“why the fuck would i ever trust you again?”

“did something happen to you? something you haven’t told me?”

“you don’t have to say it. i already know.”

“i love you.. i do.. that’s why I have to leave.”

“if you won’t change… then i can’t stay. i’m sorry.”

“i won’t just sit here and watch you drink yourself to death.”

“what the hell’s going on with you? seriously. what’s going on?”

“i think you expect too much from me.”

“if i stay… can you promise this will stop?”

“this place isn’t safe for either of us, we need to leave.”

“do you think i deserved it?”

“i don’t want to hurt you. stop asking me that.”

“you didn’t have this scar the last time i saw you… what happened?”

“is this new? wait, are you hurt?”

“are you seriously getting into fights? really?”

“don’t start a fight you won’t win.”

“i’m not gonna fight with you.”

“i won’t just stand around and let you hurt yourself.”

“do you want me to leave? it feels like you don’t want me here.”

“how am i supposed to help you when you’re like this?”

“are you drunk? i thought you stopped drinking?”

“are you on something? i thought you were clean?”

[readthesign]

&. 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  you  know  that  dynamic  of  the  emotionally  closed  off  one  &  the  kind  one  they  have  a  soft  spot  for?  yeah,  that’s  the  vibe.  )

said from the lone wolf.

❛ you think you know me, but the truth is, you don’t. ❜

❛ going home isn’t an option anymore. ❜

❛ i’m fine. there’s nothing for you to worry about. ❜ 

❛ do you wish i was different? ❜ 

❛ i just, i don’t want anything bad to happen to you. ❜ 

❛ you deserve better than what you’ve got. ❜

❛ i guess we both lost something we were fond of. ❜ 

❛ i’m not leaving you out here alone. ❜ 

❛ you don’t have to keep me company, i’m fine by myself. ❜ 

❛ coming here to see you is the only place i could go. ❜

❛ i’m afraid of losing you, okay? ❜ 

❛ i know you probably hate me right now, and i get it. ❜

❛ what is with your weird fascination with me? ❜ 

❛ yeah, you keep on telling yourself that bullshit. ❜ 

❛ i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, i just have a lot on my plate. ❜ 

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ 

❛ if i could be a different person, i promise you, i would be. ❜

❛ people like us don’t get to decide when we’re done. ❜

❛ i’ve never had anything good happen to me when i trusted others. ❜

❛ you won’t survive out there. they tear all good things apart. ❜

❛ i don’t know what’s the truth or what’s a lie anymore. ❜ 

❛ you got guts, i’ll give you that. ❜ 

❛ the more you know, the shorter your life will be. ❜ 

❛ for the first time in years, i felt something that i thought had been lost to me. ❜ 

❛ what you think you’re going through is nothing to what i have been through. ❜ 

said from the soft spot. 

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ how is it that you’re never scared? ❜

❛ you think i’m weak because i’m not like you. ❜

❛ you wanted to be left alone, right? ❜ 

❛ how do you make the pain go away? ❜

❛ you shouldn’t smoke, you know. ❜

❛ destroy what is destroying you. ❜

❛ i hope you find the peace you’re searching for. ❜

❛ you know my door is always open to you. ❜

❛ i look at you and my heart breaks because all i see is loneliness. ❜

❛ you’re avoiding the subject and you know it. what are you hiding from me? ❜ 

❛ you’re not at war anymore, you can come home. ❜

❛ it feels like you’ve been avoiding me. ❜

❛ what are you so afraid of? ❜

❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜ 

❛ why do you care? you could have just walked away. ❜ 

❛ i know you. how else do you think i found you so easily? ❜

❛ if it was the other way around, would you have come back for me? ❜ 

❛ i just thought you’d like some company. ❜ 

❛ are you jealous? want me all to yourself, do you? ❜

❛ i knew you had a heart. ❜ 

❛ can you look at me? please? ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ if you won’t take care of yourself, then who will? ❜

❛ you have something beautiful inside of you. it’s hard for some people to tell, but it’s there. ❜

[readthesign]

My character is under a truth serum, ask them anything.

MY CHARACTER HAS TO ANSWER TRUTHFULLY, NO MATTER THE QUESTION.

[readthesign]

Tell my muse why you care about them. Really hit them in their weak spots!

[readthesign]

send me   “🪦”   to hear what my muse would say about yours at their funeral. 

send  “funeral” if not able to see emoji

[readthesign]

He was dangerous. Aberforth wasn't an idiot, and sheltered though he might be, he was still perfectly aware of what a danger he was to everybody around him. All it took was one little slip up, one little occasion of getting a bit upset, or angry, or hurting, and he could end up hurting what was left of his family. And what would happen then? Would he be alone? Would someone come and take him away? That was what Mama had warned, how he needed to be good and be quiet so they wouldn't come for him.

The younger boy peered up from beneath his dark curls, a sad expression on his face. He loved his siblings dearly and he never wanted anything to happen to them. He always missed them so much when they went off to school, and there was always a part of him that was a little jealous that they got to do those things. Still chewing on his lower lip, he nodded slowly.

"Al reads me that one sometimes," he spoke quietly. He did like the stories in those books, and sometimes they helped sooth him to sleep when he was having a rough night (although maybe that was just his brother's dulcet tnes). Chewing on an already bitten short nail, he nodded again, "Yes please."

@magicblooms | plotted starter

There were few people in Godric's Hollow who knew that there was a third Dumbledore sibling.

Of course, everyone knew the eldest, Albus, a very intelligent and polite young man by all means. And everyone also knew the younger, Ariana, a sweet young girl seldom seen without a smile, a few years younger than her brother. They both went off to a fancy school every September, and as far as most were aware, had left their mother Kendra home alone until the holidays rolled around.

Almost nobody knew about Aberforth. And now Kendra was gone.

Middle child, he'd never been to school, spent most of his time either inside or curled among the goats, the darkness that curled inside him soothed a little by their gentle presence, by the familiarity of nature. Though since Kendra's death, he'd spent more time hiding away in his room, only seldomly coaxed out by Ariana. Today though, the house quiet, he had ventured out, padding down the stairs in bare feet to seek out something to eat.

Except there was somebody in the kitchen. Albus' new friend, the boy who had been staying with Miss Bagshot. Miss Bagshot knew about Aberforth. She was nice, if a little odd. One hand gripping the banister, Aberforth paused on the bottom step, clearly torn on whether to flee back upstairs or continue.

[readthesign]

Aberforth wrinkled his nose and sneezed as they stepped out of the wide grate. He'd never been overly fond of travelling by floo, it always seemed to make his nose itch and his eyes stream a little which always seemed rather annoying for an otherwise convenient mode of transport. Still, he'd take whatever he could to get home quickly right now.

He'd not even stopped to talk to anyone while he packed, none of his dorm-mates around to see him. They were all still studying for end of year exams after all, ones that quite frankly he no longer had any intention of sitting. He needed to be home, with Ariana. She needed him.

Where would she be anyway? Would Bathilda have taken her in? Surely she would have, so she wasn't alone in their own home, not after what had happened.

@regretismyconstantcompanion | plotted starter

Delivering bad news was never pleasant.

And this...this was the last piece of news he would ever want to impart. To a family already torn apart, to have to tell two young boys- because that's what they were, even if one was almost entirely finished his schooling- that their last remaining parent had perished, it was possibly the worst thing he had to communicate.

As it was, he'd sent for Albus first. Albus was older, calmer, less prone to outbursts, and it would perhaps serve well to give him some space and time to grieve himself before Aberforth would be told. The fifteen year old was considerably more unpredictable after all.

[readthesign]

Aberforth looked up at the older boy with wide eyes. He'd never really had any friends before, his siblings aside, and really they had to be his friends. After what had happened...well, he didn't really go out, so there wasn't much opportunity to make friends, and he had grown to find the thought a little intimidating, inwardly terrified of hurting someone he cared about, a fear which had only grown in recent days.

Chewing a little on his lower lip, he glanced downwards, his face falling slightly. Thin pale fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, and dark curls fell partway across his eyes, obscuring his vision a little. Blue eyes flickered up briefly before darting down again, "I don't want to hurt you."

He'd hurt Mama, and now she was gone and it was his fault. What if he hurt Albus or Ariana too? The thought scared him, that he wouldn't be able to control himself. He didn't want to hurt anyone, didn't want to be like this. He wanted to be normal.

"I read some of Al's textbooks. The ones on potions and herbology and creatures. And sometimes storybooks."

@magicblooms | plotted starter

There were few people in Godric's Hollow who knew that there was a third Dumbledore sibling.

Of course, everyone knew the eldest, Albus, a very intelligent and polite young man by all means. And everyone also knew the younger, Ariana, a sweet young girl seldom seen without a smile, a few years younger than her brother. They both went off to a fancy school every September, and as far as most were aware, had left their mother Kendra home alone until the holidays rolled around.

Almost nobody knew about Aberforth. And now Kendra was gone.

Middle child, he'd never been to school, spent most of his time either inside or curled among the goats, the darkness that curled inside him soothed a little by their gentle presence, by the familiarity of nature. Though since Kendra's death, he'd spent more time hiding away in his room, only seldomly coaxed out by Ariana. Today though, the house quiet, he had ventured out, padding down the stairs in bare feet to seek out something to eat.

Except there was somebody in the kitchen. Albus' new friend, the boy who had been staying with Miss Bagshot. Miss Bagshot knew about Aberforth. She was nice, if a little odd. One hand gripping the banister, Aberforth paused on the bottom step, clearly torn on whether to flee back upstairs or continue.

[readthesign]

On more than one occasion, Aberforth had spent nights out sleeping with the goats, much to their mother's chagrin. The animals seemed to sooth him though, and more often than not she had given in and let him rest there, at least grateful that he was getting some rest for once, rather than tossing and turning with nightmares, or sitting up all night, not even able to doze over.

"I like them. They don't mind that I'm...that I'm not like Al and Ari," the boy said softly. Creatures didn't judge, they only cared that he helped to look after them, that he was kind to them and so they were kind to him. It didn't bother them that he didn't go to school, or that sometimes things broke when he got angry, or that people overwhelmed him.

He seemed to perk up at the mention of more books on creatures though, an interested look in his eyes. Of course he always pored over the textbooks his brother wasn't using anymore, and sometimes Bathilda brought him books, but they were mainly on history. Of course he devoured those as well, but it wasn't quite the same, "Really?"

@magicblooms | plotted starter

There were few people in Godric's Hollow who knew that there was a third Dumbledore sibling.

Of course, everyone knew the eldest, Albus, a very intelligent and polite young man by all means. And everyone also knew the younger, Ariana, a sweet young girl seldom seen without a smile, a few years younger than her brother. They both went off to a fancy school every September, and as far as most were aware, had left their mother Kendra home alone until the holidays rolled around.

Almost nobody knew about Aberforth. And now Kendra was gone.

Middle child, he'd never been to school, spent most of his time either inside or curled among the goats, the darkness that curled inside him soothed a little by their gentle presence, by the familiarity of nature. Though since Kendra's death, he'd spent more time hiding away in his room, only seldomly coaxed out by Ariana. Today though, the house quiet, he had ventured out, padding down the stairs in bare feet to seek out something to eat.

Except there was somebody in the kitchen. Albus' new friend, the boy who had been staying with Miss Bagshot. Miss Bagshot knew about Aberforth. She was nice, if a little odd. One hand gripping the banister, Aberforth paused on the bottom step, clearly torn on whether to flee back upstairs or continue.

[readthesign]

“Just because I don’t talk about it, doesn’t mean I forget.”

— Katja Millay, The Sea of Tranquility