#floo gravity

[kagaintheskywithdiamonds]

since ford is a nerd and a showoff I fully believe he would use words like "monozygotic" and "dizygotic" (which are the fancy scientific terms for identical and fraternal twins, respectively) in everyday conversation

and I can just picture him using these words and stanley reacting like

ford: ...and in a case of monozygotic twins such as ourselves-

stan: mono-what?

ford: monozygotic

stan: ...

ford: meaning, formed from a single zygote

stan: ...?

ford: *sighs* identical. it means identical twins

stan: OH, well why didn't you just say so

IN FACT now that I think about it, it makes sense that ford would be pedantic enough to actually prefer the term monozygotic, because after all he and stanley aren't 100% identical (different hands, different chins) so calling them "identical twins" is less accurate

and "fraternal", he would argue, is completely meaningless as a descriptor in this case, since that word basically just means "siblings", which would accurately describe any pair of twins regardless of how many zygotes they formed from

[jacquitries]

A Mother's Approval | B.Z.

You are introduced to Blaise's mother, where subtle scrutiny and unexpected moments of connection reveal deeper feelings. As the evening unfolds, questions about why Blaise chose you linger, leading to surprising clarity and mutual understanding. Sequel to Beyond The Cauldron but could be read as a stand-alone fic. A gift for @isavulpix, hope you enjoy this one as well!

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

From the air carrying a hint of jasmine to the light scattering from crystal chandeliers, you were immediately struck by the sheer elegance of the Zabini Manor.

Blaise stepped out of the Floo beside you, radiating his usual calm self-assurance. Though his face betrayed no change in emotion, you could see a subtle shift in his posture. An ease you recognized as him feeling entirely in his element.

“Welcome home,” he said, his tone as casual with a flicker of something else in his gaze — anticipation, perhaps. The grandeur was almost suffocating, yet you schooled your features into practiced composure. A quirk of his brow hinted at amusement, as though he could sense your internal struggle. Before you could say anything, the sound of sharp, deliberate footsteps echoed from the hall, pulling your attention.

Lady Zabini was every bit the image you had envisioned. Strutting in an obsidian gown with dark hair swept into an intricate updo, she moved with effortless grace that left no question of her authority.

��Blaise,” she greeted, her voice velvet smooth. Her eyes flicked to you with an unreadable expression before a subtle, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. “And this must be the young woman I’ve heard so much about.”

Summoning your composure, you stepped forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Zabini.”

Her gaze took every detail of your appearance. You felt as though she were peeling back all your layers, examining not just your outward being but the very essence of who you were.

“Blaise has been unusually forthcoming about you,” she remarked, her tone light but pointed. “You must have made quite the impression.”

“Unusual?” you echoed, glancing at Blaise, who kept his expression impassive despite the faintest tension in his jaw.

Lady Zabini arched her brow, “You’re the first,” she said. “The first woman he’s brought to meet me.”

Your cheeks warmed, though you weren’t certain if it was from the implied compliment or the subtle challenge in her words. “I’ll take that as an honor.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, her sharp gaze unwavering. “Or perhaps I should ask what you’ve done to earn it.”

“Mother,” Blaise interjected, his voice firm but measured.

She relented with a graceful wave of her hand, gesturing for you to follow. “Let’s move to the parlor. I’d like to hear more about this… partner of yours.”

The parlor was as lavish as the rest of the manor, furnished with plush emerald green seats, illuminated by the soft glow of tall windows overlooking a snow dusted garden. Settling into an armchair, you felt the weight of Lady Zabini’s piercing scrutiny.

“Tea?” she offered, her tone polite but layered with subtle intent. She poured with practiced precision, her movements deliberate as she handed you a cup. Even as she lifted her own, her gaze never left yours.

“So,” her voice deceptively casual, “how did you and my son come to know each other?”

The simplicity of the question contrasted by the gravity of her attention. A glance at Blaise confirmed this was your question to answer alone.

“We were partners in Potions,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “And we worked well together. Blaise has a way of making himself indispensable.”

Her brow lifted slightly, an expression that hinted at approval. “Indispensable. An interesting choice of words.”

“He’s intelligent,” you added, glancing at Blaise, “and focused. He doesn’t have time for nonsense, and I appreciate that. I think we both value… clarity.”

Her lips twitched, though whether it was amusement or intrigue, you couldn’t tell. “Clarity,” she repeated. “A rare quality these days.”

The conversation flowed, her questions probing yet polite. By the end of the evening, her demeanor softened, just enough to suggest you had passed whatever unspoken test she had.

Lady Zabini’s lips curved slightly as her dark eyes studied you. “You’ve surprised me,” she said, her voice smooth and unreadable. “That doesn’t happen very often.”

Later, in the quiet of Blaise’s room, you replayed the evening in your mind. The door opened softly, and Blaise stepped in, his expression uncharacteristically warm.

“She likes you,” he said simply, leaning against the doorframe.

“She said I surprised her,” you replied. “That’s not the same as liking me.”

“With her, it is,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re the first person who’s made her pause.”

Your gaze dropped for a moment, the question gnawing at you once more. Why you? Of all the people Blaise could care for, why would he choose someone like you? The thought felt too big, too improbable to hold onto without it slipping through your fingers. Blaise had every reason to keep his distance, yet here he was, standing close, looking at you like he saw something you couldn’t.

“Why me?” you asked, your voice quiet, unsure if you truly wanted the answer.

Blaise met your gaze with an intensity that made the room feel smaller, the moment heavier. “Why not you?”

His tone softened, sincerity in his words. “You don’t try to stand out. You just... do. With you, everything feels effortless. I don’t have to be anything else. And for me, that’s rare.”

The simplicity of his explanation hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, all your doubts seemed insignificant.

“You never needed to be anything other than yourself,” he said softly, brushing his fingers lightly against yours. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken understanding, grounding you both in the moment.

“I chose you,” he said, his voice low but sure. “Because I couldn’t imagine not choosing you.”

[sitp-recs]

Helloo, do u by chance know any fics where harry and draco fight or argue, about anything. So theres like a lot of angst but then they also make-up so theres also fluffiness

Sure, here are some recs for you! You might also enjoy my break up/make up reclist :)

Try Again, with More Conviction by FleetofShippyShips (E, 3.5k)

After a mission goes sideways and they're lucky to walk away unscathed, Harry doesn't want to deal with the ensuing argument and floos home mid-angry tirade from his partner. He doesn't count on Malfoy just flooing through right after him to pick up where they left off.

Packing the Flat by marguerite_26 (E, 6k)

Months after their explosive break-up, Draco insists Harry return to their flat to remove his belongings.

but first, we fight by @nv-md (E, 8k)

Fighting with Draco Malfoy has never been quite this thrilling...or this frustrating. Harry's always horny, Draco's in denial, and there simply isn't enough time in the day to fight crime and watch your ex-archnemesis wash his arse.

Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

The Things They Never Say by bixgirl1 (E, 9k)

Harry and Draco don't know how to talk. So they do other things instead.

Let's Dance To Joy Division by Femme (E, 12k)

Let the love tear us apart, I've found a cure for a broken heart...

I'll never be your chosen one by Andithiel (E, 15k)

Draco doesn't know what exactly he’s doing with Potter, he doesn't know how their unspoken agreement even started, and doesn't know where it will end. The only thing he knows is: he's not in love.

Vanishing Cabinets by Romaine (E, 18k)

Take one Wizarding Family Values politician who has a secret life, and add one Auror who detests discrimination of any type, but becomes a bit obsessed with said politician, and you have enough sparks to ignite a Beltane fire.

Burn the Curtains and the Wine by PalenDrome (E, 24k)

There are two versions of Harry Potter: the wizard who is the Ministry of Magic's most dangerous and successful assassin, and the husband who leads a staid life of domesticity with a reformed Death Eater. And never the twain shall meet.

Make Me a Headline (I Want to Be That Bold) by dicta_contrion (E, 31k)

Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

Potential Gravity by zeitgeistic (E, 32k)

Draco is not good at Cards Against Humanity, but Harry’s not good at being human, so it all works out. Except for the explosions. And Harry’s inability to live when Draco’s not around.

[amariaamaris]

It's been a hot minute, but let's get straight into it!

On the same vein as my original post about how I feel if Jedi were more unhinged the Clone Wars never would have happened...

Mace Windu doesn't know what he did to deserve being saddled with the worst possible mission in the galaxy... but this... he didn't deserve this. Yes, Master, I am being incredibly overdramatic (childish), no I don't care and I'm not going to 'meditate on it,' thank you very much! However, Mace is freshly knighted and he's been trained well enough to not show any of his pouting out in the open. From the outside perspective he looks like the perfect picture of a Jedi Knight.

He is very carefully hiding his boredom and complete disinterest with the topic of conversation. While also, deftly rebuffing the verbal advances the governor of the planet has been trying to use on him. When a slight pulse in the force pulls Mace's attention away from the governor.

look-see-payattention-here-important

Mace jumps at the opportunity the force has given him, "My apologies Governor Mendoza," completely uncaring of how rude it is to interrupt the middle of what the Governor was saying. Mace does not understand why the council keeps sending him on diplomatic missions! Mace makes sure to put the appropriate gravity into his tone. Why can't they treat him like he's Rael? "The force is bringing my attention to a disturbance. I ask that you get yourself someplace safe with your guards while I investigate."

take the bait, please take the bait!

Governor Mendoza startles, "Of course Master Jedi!" before Mace can waste his breath correcting this fool for the fiftieth time. The Governor gets quickly ushered away. Mace allows himself a heavy eyeroll as he pulls his hood over his head and melds into the crowd.

He silently and swiftly follows the forces tugging through the city square. He comes to a stop, hidden in the shadows, watching as a large group of mandalorians move around their ships. He blinks twice, how exactly did he miss this large of a presence? Reaching out into the force towards the group he gets pinged off of their presence. With a furrowed brow he considers their armor, oh beskar. That would explain the pinging off in the force, or perhaps redirection would be a better word for it.

Mace continues watching as the fully armored mandalorians move around one another. While one in a red - is that a cape?? - yes it is. A red cape - and no, the theater nerd inside Mace isn't jealous that he gets a red cape - stands off to the side of the movement as he speaks with three others. While Mace can't read them within the force, he can see the tension lining their bodies. They aren't happy about something.

move-closerin-closer-look-see

Mace willingly follows the force, slipping closer in, while staying higher up within the long shadows of the hanger. As Mace settles himself in for what's bound to be a long time - maybe he should have become a shadow - the mandalorian with the red cape takes off his helmet(?). Mace really should do more research into Mandalorians.

And- oh, well hello. Mace can feel his eyes widen as he takes in the mandalorians features. A strong jaw with stubble, a nose that's been broken many times, light brown eyes with hints of glowing yellow heralding to a not so human ancestry.

Mace doesn't bother hiding the quiet "smash" that he practically breaths out. Talk about finding someone to fix your bad attitude. Mace would gladly allow this mandalorian to holdhimdownanddominatehim. Or maybe holdthemandaloriandownandbitehim.

A slight shudder runs through Mace's body and he forces himself to get out his datapad. Swiftly taking a good quality picture of the Mandalorian in the red cape. Then he moves higher up into the rafters and deeper into the shadows there. Mace quickly post the picture onto the jedi private server with SMASH as the caption and two voting buttons. Within seconds, multiple jedi start to vote, the majority of them voting smash. The comments flooding in soon after.

TheSenateKeepsKarkingUs: HOT! SenateWho?: He could hunt me any day! IveLostmyMind: DILF WhatisDiplomacy?: Is he a brat tamer? I would totally let him tame me! DeathismyBitch: I would let him step on me. KarktheSenate: Daddy! ShirtsAreOverRated: I would leave the order for him Itriedtobehappy&gotTraumatized: @ TheatreNerdMace can I tap that if you don't? UnhingedTM: I would like for him to obliterate me, please and thank you. ArmorKink: I would gladly ride that armor. SadBoiHours: Why do you always find the hot ones?

Mace slips his datapad away with laughter on his lips before someone happens to look up and see light. He slinks back down to where he was before and catches one of the other mandalorians speaking.

"--we were hired by that hut'uun Governor and now he's called a Jetii here!" Mace's eyes narrow, well then, the Governor made it quite clear that he had no hired help. This is an issue, especially since - while Mace and many other jedi would gladly get their guts rearranged by a mandalorian - there is a history of slaughtering each other. It's a big enough concern that the Jedi Council has made it very clear that no jedi is allowed in Mandalorian territory. Also, there is not a single jedi that is suicidal enough to try to have their guts rearranged in a pleasurable way by a mandalorian when there is no promise that they won't torture and outright kill them. Some of them are certainly crazy enough to toy with the idea.

"--kark are we supposed to do what we were hired for when the Governor is breaching the contract? He's already threatened to tell the jedi that we're a threat to him and his people if we try to leave!" With a strong nudge from the force Mace is moving from the shadows to the light.

He makes sure to have his hands up and fingers spread out as a peace offering. "If you have the contract that you and the Governor signed then that threat holds no water." All the mandalorians jerk in suprise and point their blasters at Mace. eh, blasters. Mace rolls his eyes from under his hood, he really needs to meditate, Val would be cackling. He makes sure not to move as he allows them to get over the fact that he startled them.

"Apologies, I am the jedi that was assigned to this particular mess." All the mandalorians stare at Mace or at least, Mace assumes they're staring at him. The only mandalorian that he can see face-to-face is the male with the red cape.

The red caped mandalorian does a hand signal Mace doesn't recognize and everyone slowly drops the blasters. They noticeably don't put them away, but they are pointing at the ground so Mace will take that as a win.

"What is your name Jetii?" Mace feels his skin tingle from how rich sounding with the slightest hint of rumble the red caped mandalorian’s voice is. Yet, he finds his attention being pulled to the emitter-sized shatterpoint that is floating just to the left of the mandalorian.

Mace suppresses a grimace as he pulls down his hood, "I am Jedi Knight Mace Windu. Governor Mendoza had sworn that he did not have any mercenaries hired." he pauses for a moment as his focus is once more pulled to the shatterpoint that seems to have grown into the size of four datapads put side-by-side. Mace mentally shakes himself and turns his attention back to the very smashable mandalorian, who now has a small frown on his face. "If you show me the contract, I can look over it and send it to the Jedi Council. There is a high likelihood they'll order me to leave and allow the governor to deal with his own foully."

Please get me off this planet, I'm missing so much of my favorite holodrama.

"You seem very willing to wash your hands of this situation jetii." The mandalorian tilts his head very slightly as he says it and Mace does not have to stop himself from cooing at how adorable it looks, he does not! Mace does put his hands into his deep sleeves as he gives the mandalorian a flat smile.

While Mace and his fellow jedi are unfortunately bound to the senate that doesn't change the fact that they will maliciously comply with their assignments. "Do you think that any jedi enjoys being forced to go to different planets to corral adults with the maturity of spoilt younglings purely to get them to be diplomatic and come to an agreement? I would have gladly never have come to this planet if it had been my choice. Yes, I am incredibly willing to leave and let this continue to be your problem. You are at least getting paid for it."

Mace hears a fair amount of the helmeted mandalorians snort loudly even as his attention is pulled back to the shatterpoint. The shatterpoint that is now three times the size it was earlier. He barely covers a grimace as he turns his attention back to the present situation.

The mandalorian's eyes narrow slightly at him as he crosses his arms. This man is definitely aware enough to notice Mace's distraction. "Lets talk jetii, I am Mand'alor Jaster Mereel, he/him and these are my verde." Mace barely has a split second to process the name and the title given when the shatterpoint bursts. It flairs bright gold as the leftovers of it slowly float away on an unfelt wind looking very similar to the glitter the younglings at the temple love to use.

The pain slams into his head at the same time, bright-hot and splintering. Mace's heartbeat is loud in his ears as a pained grunt leaves him and his legs give out. Luckily he lands on his knees as he clutches tightly at his temples. Mace barely stops himself from making a face at the feel of blood flowing from his nose. Disgusting.

Mace startles slightly when warmstrongsteadykind hands get him to his feet and usher him over to some crates. He squints, trying to tell for sure what's going on, but his eyes are incredibly blurry and his ears are ringing so loud that he can't make out anything that is being said.

He blinks in slight confusion as a different blurry face comes into his view with a scowl and a distinct medic marking on their shoulder armor. Mace grimaces as the medic shines a light into his eyes and he tries to bat the light way from his eyes. It isn't karking helping his pain. Unfortunately his hand barely makes it halfway before falling back down to his lap.

Slowly blinking as he watches the medic slightly back up and turn to speak with someone that Mace can't see because of the blurriness, he dimly remembers that he has the force-sensitive safe pain medication for this exact purpose. So, Mace, as the medic is distracted, starts to fumble at his belt line for one of the pouches where he knows the medicine is.

The medic turns back and immediately, with what Mace thinks is a curse, stops Mace's struggling. Which is rude, he's trying to do something here. The medic talks to him, but Mace just blinks at him with furrowed brows. He receives a heavy frown in return, yet the medic catches onto what he was trying to do quickly.

With efficient moves, the medic opens the pouch and pulls out his medicine. Mace's whole body feels numb. It seems like from one moment to the next the medic has somehow gotten the medicine into Mace's mouth and is coaxing him into swallowing it down. His lips are numb. The medic also swiftly cleans the blood from his face and puts some weird tool up Mace's nose to stop the bleeding.

Mace stays put and blurrily watches as the medic once again turns his head and speaks to someone else. "-give the jetii a minute. I don't understand this force osik, but the jetii should come around." Mace allows his burning blurry eyes to close and tentatively reaches out into the force. Everything is still so glittery and golden, Mace has never experienced a shatterpoint like this before. Yet, something tells him that it is an extremely positive change.

His head throbs as he continues to focus on the force, allowing for any speaking to become background noise. He feels his body still even as tingles break out everywhere. Allowing himself to float on the currents of the force and slowly release his pain into it as the medication starts working only slightly helps with the pain. He feels himself grimace as a sharp pain lances through his head. Force, he wishes Val was here.

Mace pulls the force around himself and uses it to help dull the pain quicker than the medicine is and opens his eyes. He doesn't bother hiding the wryly amused twitch of lips when he sees that multiple mandalorians have their helmets off and they're all staring at him with poorly concealed concern. How interesting, mandalorians genuinely worried for a jedi.

"Apologies, that was unpleasant." Just because they are concerned that doesn't mean Mace is inclined to give them any extra information. He almost starts laughing at the baffled anger he feels coming from them.

A deep sigh leaves Mand'alor Meerel, "Jetii, you just collapsed out of nowhere for no clear reason and your apologizing for it?" Mace folds his hands together and gives a bland smile, even as he very much so wants to jump the Mand'alor's bones.

The medic step forward, "I'm Mij, he/him. Can you explain what just happened so I can treat you instead of giving you pills that only have the dosage as instructions?" Mace pulls in a slow breath as he studies Mij, this medic reminds him of the healers back at the temple. Unfortunate.

Right as Mace opens his mouth to answer, his com starts ringing. Mace jolts slightly and gets the com out with deft fingers and answers it. The person that shows up as a blue holo is none other that Mace's fellow knight and insane friend, Val. No last name, just Val. Of which she totally doesn’t use that to her advantage.

"I knew I should have fought the council harder about you going alone! Why the hell didn't you immediately take that medication when you saw the shatterpoint?" There's an added growl to her words as her fangs flash. Mace's lips twitch as he watches Val's hologram slightly pace and her front lekku writhe in irritation.

"Peace, Val. As much as I would have liked to have had you here, you are a crechemaster. You cannot leave your charges, besides I've taken the medication and I'm using the force to supplement." A low snarling hiss leaves Val as she bares her teeth for a split second.

Val closes her eyes and brings in a slow, deep breath. "You're right." There's a slight pause as Val points her finger at him. "It doesn't mean I have to like it! I have to go, my cublings are bound to cause unmitigated chaos if they're left alone to long." She gives a mischievous grin, "I do so enjoy helping them direct their chaos at fellow jedi that need to loosen up!" with a quick wink and a waggle of Val's fingers, she hangs up the call. An amused huff leaves Mace as his lips twitch. They grew up together, so Mace isn't nearly dumb enough to believe that she's truly dropped it.

Val will without a doubt pounce him when he arrives at the temple and drag him to the healing ward.

"Shatterpoints?" Mace's hand pauses in returning his com to his belt and locks eyes with Mand'alor Mereel.

Mace can feel his shoulders slightly slump, "Yes, It is not an easy thing to explain to nonforce-sensitives. There are moments where a certain decision or action can and will rapidly change the future. Those are shatterpoints and when a decision ends that potentional future by breaking the shatterpoint... it," Mace's lips twist slightly as he tries to find the right words. "in a sense, explodes. All of this happens within the force and the echo of energy tends to give me extreme migraines."

Mij looks particularly incensed, "So, there is nothing that can be done. This is just force osik?" Mace gives Mij a bland smile and clasps his hands together.

"The medicine that you helped to give me is the only medicine that works without blocking me from the force." Medicine that barely works for the pain, but it is what it is. "If Val is with me, she can help to siphon the pain away and help my body to adjust to the change within the force quicker with less pain." Force, he wishes Val was here, at least her feral ass would get this situation taken care of quickly.

Mand'alor Mereel has an intrigued look in his eyes, "The Jetii that called you, Val. What does crechemaster mean and how is she able to help you?" Mace pulls in a deep breath, trying to decide how much he wants to say.

A near silent sigh leaves him, "Crechemasters take care of our younglings, each crechemaster has at least ten younglings to take care of. Val and two other crechemasters each have fifteen younglings under their care. Val is a natural healer, through her padawanship, she dual studied as a healer and as a crechemaster. Which is partly why she is allowed to have fifteen younglings under her care while being a newer crechemaster." Mace shifts himself slightly on the boxes, debating standing up. One look from Mij immediately makes Mace decide that he'll stay where he is for now. That is a medic that looks like he's used to having to drug people to keep them put.

Mace has been drugged enough times that he's not inclined to have this particular medic do that. The majority of those times has been Val doing it.

Mand'alor Mereel crosses his arms, "I didn't know that your order raised children communally." Mace shrugs his shoulders as he stifles a bolt of annoyance. Aggravated sex sounds amazing right about now. A slight huff escapes Mereel at Mace's non-answer, "Fine Jetii, you wanted to see the contract lek?” Mereel pulls out a data pad and starts tapping on it.

“Yes, I’ll read the contract, take a copy of it if you’ll allow me to and report to the Jedi council. They will make a decision based off of the information within the contract. There will be no need to any sort of fight to break out between myself and you and your people.” Mereel grunts in acknowledgment and hands Mace the data pad with the contract pulled up.

Mace starts skimming through the contract, seeing Mereel cross his arms in his perrifial vision. “You can take a copy jetii, in fact take a copy of both contracts,” Mace’s eyes shoot up to meet Mereel’s with a raised brow, a slight smirk comes onto Mereel’s face. “We only take a contract if it is in mando’a and basic.” Mace gives a hum in acknowledgement and goes back to skimming it. Smart, beings are less likely to kark others over if it’s in two different languages. Or more likely depending on who it is.

Mand’alor Mereel slightly flinches in shock when Mace hands the data pad back to him within five minutes. “I‘ll go contact the council and let you know what their decision is.” Mace shows the small data stick that he used to download the contract and slips it into one of his pouches. Mereel opens his mouth to say something as Mace pushes himself off of the crate and moves to leave.

“Absolutely not,” Mij is next to Mace in a second and pushing him back onto the crate. “Jetii, you just collapsed due to force osik. You’re not moving from that crate until I tell say that you can.” Mij is glaring at Mace with his arms crossed and Mace has to pull on the force more to stop the head rush from the abrupt movement.

Mace gives Mij his bitchface - as Val called it - and clasps his hands together. “With all due respect, there is nothing more you can do. The effects of the shatterpoint need to run their course. There are things that I need to take care of, things that need to be done in a different environment.” Let me leave so that I can talk osik about the governor to the council in peace.

Mace ignores the shifting of the mandalorians as he blandly watches absolute fury cross over Mij’s face. Mace can feel the fury-protection-whywon’tthisjetiilisten-i’mgoingtodrughim radiating off of Mij. Mace barely stifles a sigh, now he’s just tired. Kark this osik.

“I would appreciate if you didn’t drug me and just let me leave.” To maliciously comply or not… Mace barely stops the wicked smirk that wants to cross his face as he hears Val’s voice in his head, giving him a tip of how to really set off a medic. Perhaps, if he causes enough chaos he can just slip away like Val does. “I’m a Jedi, my health and wellbeing certainly is not your concern.” He can already hear her laughter. The barely leashed fury on Mij’s face shatters into full blown readytokill rage. You better run brother dearest, Mace can almost hear Val whisper to him. Right as Mij lunges. Exclamations escape the mandalorians nearby as Mace uses the force to augment his speed. Leaping out of the way right before Mij is on top of him. The other Mandalorians rush to grab Mij to stop him from full body tackling the already force-injured jetii.

Mace uses that distraction to his advantage and slips out of the hanger and into the crowded city square, leaving behind the shouting mandalorians. Well, this will certainly be interesting to inform the council about. Mace flips up his hood and allows himself to meld into the movement of the crowd with a wide, hidden grin on his face unable to stop the amusement bubbling up in him.

Val was right, sometimes causing unmitigated, unneeded chaos for the sake of chaos is fun.

[lostdrarryfics]

I am looking for this fic i read months ago. I bookmark every fic i like but i seem to have lost this one. It's post war with aurors drarry. Harry is some kind of blasting auror (haha ik weird name) and draco is a healing auror. Draco gets himself transferred to some xyz place (with hot weather and beaches??) and Harry gets really upset over this because they were auror partners. I remember these sunglasses Harry (Hermione actually) got Draco for his farewell, but they got into a fight on the day Draco is leaving. Harry tells him he is his healer, which really hurts Draco because he thought the only reason Harry was upset was because he wouldn't be able to heal him anymore. Draco moves, and now Harry has a different partner who is also a blasting expert. He keeps getting hurt cuz he is used to Draco being there to check his back. This time he gets really badly hurt, a long scar over neck which takes away his voice. Draco floo calls to talk, but Harry doesn't have his voice so he couldn't. As last he shows Draco the scar and the reason he can't talk, and Draco was.. shocked. I think he stops talking to Harry after that because he can't sit around and wait for Harry to one day off himself. Harry decides to move to where Draco is (to apologize??) and gets himself a receptionist position or something. There is also this case going on in xyz - some bomb attacks with hidden clues and messages graffitid onto walls. Although Harry is technically not an auror, he starts helping Draco in the case. At last they solve the case, find out the place where the next attack is going to be and go on a stake out there. I remember crabs, and one of them gets injured in the attack. There's also this scene where Harry breaks into Draco's home at xyz because Draco was refusing to talk to him, and walks into Draco making out with a guy. I think it's on ao3 if my memory's not lying. Thank you so much!

We believe you are looking for Potential Gravity by zeitgeistic (32k, E)

Don’t forget to bookmark, leave kudos and comments!

[ircnwrought]

astoria: about

basics

Name: Astoria Hélène Malfoy née Greengrass Alias: Princess of Snakes, Tori Date of Birth: November 20th, 1981 Date of Death: August 28th, 2019 Place of Birth: Dorset, West Country, England Orientation: Heterosexual Religion: Agnostic Occupation: None Language(s) Spoken: English, French Organizations: Sacred Twenty-Eight

family

Father: Ambrose James GreengrassMother: Émiline Lisette Greengrass née Dubois Sibling(s): Daphne Renée Greengrass Significant Other(s): Draco Lucius Malfoy Children: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Distant Relatives: maternal cousins in France

appearance

Hair: Dark brown waves, slightly below shoulders, usually worn up during school years or heavily ornamented (i.e. headbands, ribbons, jeweled clips, etc) post-wizarding war Eye Color: Ice blue Height: 5'7" Build: Willowy Tattoos/Scars: none Piercings: Ears

psych.

Myers-Briggs: ISTJ (the inspector) Positive Traits: detail-oriented, realistic, present-focused, logical, practical, orderly, organized Negative Traits: judgmental, subjective, tends to blame others, insensitive Afflictions: Blood curse Temperament: Melancholic

skills

Training: graduate of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry Combat: proficient in magical dueling Movement: apparition license, floo network knowledge Weaponry: wand Other Skills: potion making

bio

Astoria Greengrass was born on November 20th, 1981, one year after her sister Daphne. As part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the girl’s parents instilled the idea of blood purism (those with pure wizarding blood are superior to those of mixed blood or muggle blood) within the child. However, Ambrose and Émiline Greengrass, for all their blinding wealth and flashy smiles, were never the most affectionate parents. Astoria embraced her parents’ hate for those with muggle-blood in an attempt to gain whatever sympathy she could from the older couple.

Coming from a long line of Slytherins, it was no surprise that Astoria was sorted into the house of the cunning. Her sharp mind and instinctual need to protect those she loved made her a natural fit. The girl attempted to break out of her sister’s shadow while at Hogwarts, only to find herself falling into the pure-blood ‘gangs.’ The Greengrass sisters, though as different as night and day, made a name for themselves amongst their peers. Daphne’s golden beauty and Astoria’s more mysterious nature seemed to pull people in like gravity. For once, the girl’s parents seemed to be proud of their daughter, who was now dubbed the ‘princess of snakes.’

Voldemort’s return threatened the world Astoria had carefully built around her. Ambitious and cunning to the last, her family played both sides of the Second Wizarding War. If the Dark Lord should win, they were his fervent servants. If he should lose, they could claim they were merely attempting to protect their family. With the Battle of Hogwarts drawing near, the Greengrass sisters were placed on either side of the conflict by their scheming parents. Astoria joined the students at the tender age of 16, not necessarily fighting for what she believed in, but fighting for the preservation of her proud family. 

The girl was amongst the Slytherins when the ancient house was locked in the dungeons of the castle. As the battle raged on, the cells sustained substantial damage and she broke free with several of her classmates. What she found above ground became the fodder to her nightmares. The girl watched teenagers she had known for years die at the hands of the same people her parents had over for dinner. At the height of the conflict, Astoria witnessed her mother killing a Slytherin girl she had known in her classes before she suffered a severe head wound. Astoria woke in the hospital wing, disillusioned and alone. No amount of prejudice could convince her that pure blood ideals were worth all that death.

Astoria’s role during the Battle saved her family from a fate in Azkaban and she was content to retreat from society after finishing her education. When her 18th birthday came around, she felt different. It was suddenly difficult to stand for long periods of time and she was subject to bouts of nausea. Nothing could prepare her for the truth when it was revealed she had inherited an old family blood curse with a sinister fate: she would die young.

She never meant to fall in love with Draco Malfoy after meeting him at one of her sister’s parties. It was unfair that he should lose her so quickly, yet she fell and she fell hard. Their marriage resulted in the birth of Scorpius Hyperion, whom she raised in the light of tolerance much to the disappointment of Draco’s parents. She died in July 2019 at the age of thirty-seven from complications with her curse.

notes

Astoria is heavily hc based, due to the limited mention of her in the books/on Pottermore. In a lot of senses, my portrayal is more OC than canon.

Currently, I do have verses that are Cursed Child compliant in the sense that Astoria is married to Draco Malfoy, is the mother of Scorpius Malfoy, and eventually dies of a blood curse. I do not acknowledge many parts of the canon, such as the existence of Delphini or Harry’s relationship with Albus Severus. If you write one of these characters or incorporate this canon, let me know and we’ll run with it. Just be advised that I do consider it AU content where my Astoria is concerned.

Astoria is a very gifted witch. Do not assume your character can win in a physical fight against her unless your muse is a magical being or someone equally as powerful. Come talk to me first if you’d like to plot a physical conflict.

Astoria is canonically in a devoted relationship/marriage to Draco. AUs will be used to plot ships if the occasion calls for it.

[emerald-oceans]

Upcoming Gravity Falls merch!! Mabel and Dipper plushies and a set of Disney Doorables figures!

[floorcoaster]

Hi! I'm re-reading gravity currently. I think I came across your fanfic We learned the sea few years back when I started reading hp fanfics particularly dramione and no matter what happened, I couldn't make myself read the story. But I did. Yes, I did. And it was so perfect for the soul. I've never read chicken soup for the soul stories but the stories you've written painted with sea imagery felt something like that. It felt like a hug seriously and uh, there wasn't much to imagine during the pandemic. So your stories brought me relief and literary happiness that I wasn't sure of finding.

On a lighter note, what books do you think would Draco (from Gravity) would add to his collection?

Wow! Hi! Thank you so much for the kind message!! Your kinds words are so appreciated.

As for books Draco would add to his collection... I think he'd have all kinds of things. I think he'd be really interested in history. I think he'd go on book buying binges whenever a topic caught his interest. He'd have lots of nonfiction and he'd read voraciously to try and understand because there was so much of his own upbringing and history he couldn't possibly have understood. That naturally would extend to other things, though I think history would be a favorite subject. For fiction, he'd have a shelf of well-read, dog-eared Muggle classics that he would turn to like old friends. I think he'd also read some wildly fantastical stories that could catch his attention and draw him in until he was lost in the story.

[fluxweeed]

Unfinished Friday

ahhh @tackytigerfic what a pleasure it was to get a peek at some hot unreleased tacky words! i'm so intrigued! ron's visions! temporal magic! underground brewing! sad boy dracooooo 🥺 delicious teasing perfection!!!

u were very kind to tag me!! i have a few fics that i know in my heart will never ever see the light of day; my favourite is a longfic that is my take on the classic auror partners trope. it's never getting done. i do not have it in me to write a 100k mutual pining casefic. i know this. we all know this. tragically i think it is also my favourite thing i've ever written – but perhaps that isn't so tragic, bc it means i get a chance to share some of it here now!

quick set-up: harry and draco are paired together on a case, which is going nowhere fast. in an attempt to bond w draco, bc their relationship can be described as awkward at best, harry invites him to his birthday drinks. instead, draco gets drunk and bonds with ron about how funny they think harry is (draco will regret this hugely when he's sober again). this is the immediate aftermath of the pub night.

“He can Floo from mine, the walk might clear his head a little bit.”

“My head is fine, Potty,” Malfoy insisted, tilting alarmingly sideways. Harry grabbed him and ducked under his arm.

“Or he can sleep in one of the spare rooms,” Harry amended.

“Probably for the best,” Hermione said, eyeing Malfoy. She was prevented from saying anything further by Ron planting his face directly into her hair.

“You’re my girlfriend!” Ron told the back of Hermione’s head, his voice muffled. Hermione patted him absently on the shoulder.

“Sure you’ll be all right, Harry?”

Harry thought he had it pretty lucky, actually, as Ron was, as far as Harry could tell, attempting to bury his entire self in Hermione’s hair. Hermione had a large volume of hair, but Ron was a very tall person. Harry didn’t think Ron was going to fit.

“Sure you’ll be all right?” Harry countered.

“Hermione Granger is my girlfriend!” Ron said into Hermione’s neck.

“Where is Weasley going?” Malfoy asked.

“We’re all going home,” Hermione said decisively. “Come on, you silly lump,” she told Ron, who whined when his attempt at nesting in Hermione’s hair was thwarted.

“I don’t want to go home,” Malfoy grumbled. Then he seemed to notice Harry propping him up. “Potter? What are you doing there?”

“I’m making sure you don’t fall flat on your face, you dickhead,” Harry said, trying to steer Malfoy out of the door.

“Oh,” Malfoy said. “That’s… oh.” He fell silent, frowning. Harry didn’t mind, as it left him compliant as Harry half-dragged him out onto Charing Cross Road.

Malfoy stayed quiet as they bade goodnight to the others, and stumbled along without complaint. It was quite a long walk back to Grimmauld Place. Harry usually enjoyed the journey, but it wasn’t long before his shoulders started to ache from hauling a stumbling Malfoy along. He briefly considered the Underground, or maybe a taxi – but Malfoy refused to put his wand away. Harry was hoping that at least if they stayed outside, nobody would notice or care. At least Malfoy wasn’t actually using it.

Harry huffed and shifted under Malfoy’s arm so he could get a better grip. He wished he could cast a feather-light charm, but with Malfoy in the state he was in, a sudden change in gravity wouldn’t do either of them any favours. And anyway – the last thing they needed was for Harry to make the charm too strong (he still wasn’t fully sober, himself) and have Malfoy go floating off over central London.

As they made their way further north, rowdy pubs and clubs gave way to sleepy rows of shops and flats. The difference in atmosphere was startling, and Harry found his ears were ringing from the lack of noise.

“Whatzat sound?” Malfoy demanded.

“Oh, awake, are you? Want to let your feet know?”

Malfoy ignored him and made no attempt to support himself. Instead, he frowned over his shoulder, his neck twisting awkwardly where Harry’s head was in the way. “Your back is screaming.”

“No s’not, that’s just my ears ringing,” Harry said, then realised how stupid that was. “Wait. That’s not right, is it?”

“Potty Potter.” Malfoy snickered. “I think there’s a pixie in your bag, Potty.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to awkwardly twist his neck, but with Malfoy’s arm still slung over him, it was quite impossible to turn his head at all. “He said there wouldn’t be any more pixies,” Harry mumbled, thinking of Seamus, but now Malfoy had pointed it out, Harry realised the noise was indeed coming from behind him.

Harry looked around and spotted a nearby lamppost he could lean Malfoy against while he dug through his bag. Buried under his work robes wasn’t a pixie, but instead –

“Izzat a Sneakoscope?” Malfoy asked. “Why do you even have that? They’re rubbish. Absolute tat.”

“Not this one,” Harry frowned at the twirling top, screaming its distress out of the palm of Harry’s hand. “Hermione charmed it for me. It only reacts to things related to cases I’ve been assigned.” He straightened and looked up and down the quiet street, half expecting to see a swirl of robes, hear the echo of Pansy Parkinson’s wicked laugh.

But nothing waited for him except shuttered shopfronts and closed blinds. Harry held the Sneakoscope up one way, then another, trying to figure out which direction made it wail louder. But his foggy brain was having trouble focusing on anything through the piercing noise. He shook his head to try and clear it.

“Should we call it in, d’you reckon? Get someone to come down here and take a look?”

“What, wake Robards up because someone kicked your bag at the pub and broke your trinket?” Malfoy wrinkled his nose. “It’s four in the morning.”

It was only just gone midnight, but Malfoy had a point nonetheless. “But if something is happening, and we miss it…”

“Look around, Potty!” Malfoy spread his arms dramatically, and nearly lost his balance. “There’s nobody here! Everyone is sleeping! Helloooo, Muggles!” he called.

“Shut the fuck up!” came a muffled yell in response.

The Sneakoscope was still whirring loudly. Harry wrapped his robes around it and stuffed it back in his bag. Unfortunately, silencing the Sneakoscope’s screech didn’t clear Harry’s sluggish thoughts as much as he’d wanted it to.

“I still think we should look into it,” he said doubtfully.

“It’s four in the morning!”

Still wrong, but they were hardly in the right state to be investigating. “Tomorrow, then. We’ll come back.” If Malfoy’s yelling hadn’t stopped the Sneakoscope whirring, it probably wasn’t reacting to the presence of a person, who surely would have Disapparated at the noise.

Malfoy shrugged, the movement somehow still elegant despite his drunken leaning. “If you like.”

Harry hesitated for a moment longer, but temporal inaccuracies or not, Malfoy was right: dragging Robards out of bed in the early hours of a Saturday morning because of a broken Sneakoscope was too great a risk. They’d come back tomorrow and take a proper look around.

He cast a tracking charm on the nearest shopfront – Mickey’s Motors – so they could find their way back tomorrow and stood, hoiking the bag back onto his shoulders. “Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Malfoy held an arm out imperiously, and Harry rolled his eyes before ducking under it and letting Malfoy lean on him again.

“Where are we going?”

Harry snorted and hitched Malfoy’s arm more comfortably around his shoulder as they set off towards Islington again. “Where do you think we’re going, Malfoy?”

“I dunno. You’re doing all the walking.”

“You’re bloody right I am,” Harry grumbled. “We’re going back to my house. Lucky for you. I could have been taking you anywhere, you daft bugger.”

“I trust you,” Malfoy said distractedly. “We’re going back to… your house?”

“Yes, idiot.”

Malfoy hummed, and tilted his head so it was resting against Harry’s. “You taking me home, Harry?” he murmured. Harry was forcefully reminded of the Cupboard Incident; Malfoy’s voice was suddenly as low and silky as it had been then. Its effect on Harry hadn’t changed, and he shivered despite the warm evening.

They were a few streets away from Grimmauld Place when Malfoy finally piped up again. “Why have we been walking for hours? I’m hungry.”

“We’ve only been walking for ten minutes since we stopped,” Harry grouched. His back ached from the extra weight of a floppy pure-blood slumped over him. At least Malfoy was talking again, which made Harry feel as if he was slightly better than the lamppost outside Mickey’s Motors, but Malfoy hadn’t yet found it in himself to walk properly. “Although, again, you’re not doing much of the walking, are you?”

“You’re saving me,” Malfoy said, and dissolved into snickers. He didn’t stop giggling – nor did he make any effort to walk unaided – until they stopped in the middle of Grimmauld Place. Harry ducked out from under Malfoy’s arm, but kept a firm grip on him, just in case.

“Wotzat?” Malfoy said. “Are we here? Do you live in a park, Potter?” He looked at the gardens across the road and scrunched his nose.

“I don’t live in a park, Malfoy.”

“Then why are we standing in the street? It’s dark.” He raised his wand as if to ward off any would-be attackers.

Harry couldn’t help but grin. Malfoy was still unsteady on his feet, his hair a mess – hardly an intimidating sight. “I have to tell you something first,” Harry said, automatically glancing around for eavesdroppers. “C’mere.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened and he dropped his arm as Harry leant in to murmur, “I live at number twelve, Grimmauld Place.”

The light from the streetlamp glittered in Malfoy’s wide eyes. “Oh,” he breathed, “I live at number twenty-eight, Ennismore Gardens.”

A snort of laughter burst from Harry. “My house is under Fidelius, you prick.” He nodded his head towards number twelve. “Look.”

Malfoy turned to look at the front steps of number twelve. To Harry, they were as immobile as always, but he remembered how the house had squeezed itself into existence when he’d first seen it. “I’ve never been told a Fidelius secret before.” His voice was hushed.

“Well. I’m honoured to be your first.” Malfoy shot him a look and Harry cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

as ever, i have no clue where anyone else is at re: having done/not done this! please do take this as a sign to share ur hidden gems if you'd like, and if u do pls tag me so i can inhale them!!! ❤️

[massacre-girlypop]

New OC. Meet the final member of the Sword Baes. @ebevkisk

Something Stares Back

The Astral Sea is a plane that exists outside of the Prime Material. An ocean of stars and planets and void home to many creatures of consequence, but also monsters the Prime Material plane could only have nightmares about.

The Astral Sea carries more mysteries than answers and with it, a deeper, darker fear of pure and true helplessness and loneliness.

As a Dreadnought swam in search for food, the city of Gogotor slowly drifts and an executioner reads out a sentence.

“For the crimes of necromancy, murder, and conspiracy against the royal family, we gather here today for the execution of the wizard, Ascella Ylteryn. Ylteryn, you stand here judged and you have been found guilty. Your punishment is death by guillotine. Have you any final words?” The executioner removes the gag keeping her from speaking and the creature took a deep breath.

A 27-year old humanoid composed of starlight stares into his eyes with a vicious glare with irises as gold as any heavenly object and sclera as black the abyss. Her feminine figure was almost human, but her body was filled with starry skies, but much more sky blue than the navy skies of the Astral Sea. Her garb was a divine material, but black and gold to match her eyes and her hair was a pixie cut of a deep purple shade.

Ascella spoke. “Tyrants fall by my hand. You may think this to be my last day, but I tell you that you believe a deception. Several people will die today, but I will not be among that number.”

The executioner redoes the gag and shoves her to her knees as she finishes and says “Then, by the authority of the King Buralto, may you find peace in the afterlife.”

As the axe swings into Ascella’s neck, it passes right through. From behind the executioner, a hand reaches out of invisibility and fires a Finger of Death into his brain. The executioner drops dead only to rise again a second later. Ascella comes out of invisibility and with an oppressive glare, directs the executioner on the crowd. “I told you that I would not die.”

Other guards turn their weapons on Ascella and fire in a futile effort to bring down a wizard with mere weapons. With a flourish, a Wall of Force rises and all of the bullets harmlessly bounce off as she Dimension Doors to the nearest tower. With a simple Dominate Person, all of the guards lose their ability to gauge who they should shoot at as Ascella disappears.

In the castle of Gogotor, Ascella appears in the throne room where an army of people await as a precaution in case the guards don't succeed. They charge and, as they do, Ascella’s eyes glow a hateful color as they snap, creating a Gravity Fissure. Several die, the remaining run in fear as, without breaking stride, Ascella paced towards the throne.

The king, sitting unmoved, yelled in defiance. “Pale witch, you do not scare me. You will die where you are.” He pulls a sword and glows with a deeply unsettling divine light.

Ascella remained undeterred. “No nonono, paladin. I am the master of life and death. There are powers you cannot match and I wield them for purpose beyond your understanding. You have nothing in your power that can contend with my arcane prowess.”

The king laughs. “Nothing can match the power of god.”

Ascella pulls her Staff of Absorption from the ether. “I am a god.”

With divine speed, the King brings down his sword. Not soon enough, Ascella appears behind and the king feels his skin wither as a Blight spell hits him directly in the back. He reacts quickly, but too slow to beat her Shield.

Ascella casts Fly and ascends out of reach as the paladin king fires bolt after bolt of Eldritch blast at her.

“Oooh, Good old king worships multiple gods. Eldritch blast isn’t something a Paladin should ever be able to cast.” With a spin of her staff, she fires a Cone of Cold directly down at him, chilling him to the bone.

The king snarls and dispels the fly and catches her in the stomach as she almost lands, flinging her across the floor. Using her staff to stand, she rises, blood dripping from her astral figure.

“Even you can’t evade death, child.” The king says as he attempts to bring down his sword one last time.

Ascella rises and slams her staff. From below the chiseled stone work, a 15-foot tall skeleton grabs the paladin and holds him in the air as the unsettling energy of purest death filled her body as the skeleton completely restrained the king. “Oh, darling, you have absolutely no idea. Kill.” And with that final word, the skeleton drags the king directly into the nine hells.

Ascella, with a deep breath, uses the Heal spell she stole from an old compatriot who does not exist anymore and, as she preps to teleport, she hears the clapping of hands as an intimidating presence drops from the rafters.

Ascella recognizes immediately the fear that tries to crawl into her veins as Dragon fear.

“What an impressive display. Truly magic beyond what most people would see on a daily basis.”

Ascella remains unmoved. “You don’t see very many dragons here either. Especially one with pale pink eyes. So you are Marasenna, the Purveyor of Nightmares.”

Senna strides up. “Petra hates necromancers, but you have skills that could round out the final member of our council. Provided you don’t kill us. Not that you could.”

Ascella gave a quick snarl. “Don’t question my abilities.”

Senna asserted her presence. “All I need is a yes. Come be friends.”

“I don’t make friends.”

Senna starts to walk away. “Suit yourself then.”

Ascella turns. “Wait. Do…you have a library?”

Senna smiles. “Of course.”

Ascella offers a hand. “All I need is something attuned to where we’re going.”

Senna takes it with a bow. “As you wish.” And with a flash, they disappear.

[rene-hl-trashcan]

Part 2

Both Sylvan and Riz physically jerked at the sharp yell. Almost instantly, Sylvan tried to placate his fuming sister with a sheepish smile—to no avail, of course—while Riz simply frowned, brows furrowing at the way Sylvia was pointing her wand in their direction. The woman's typical unimpressed expression shifted to a warning glare, seemingly like she wouldn’t hesitate to Crucio Sylvan right there and then had he didn’t stop indulging in his curiousity at the expense of their oblivious multiverse counterpart.

Not wanting to actually be tortured, Sylvan raised both his hands up, the scarlet fluid on his fingers yielded submissively to gravity’s demand and trickled down his arm, only to be absorbed by the folded-up fabric at his elbows.

“That’s a bit too excessive, isn’t it?” Riz hummed, still so casual and unfazed even as he put himself between Sylvan and the tip of Sylvia’s wand, his back turned towards the person who quite literally had assaulted him. “I don’t mind his impulsive tendency of giving unsolicited hugs, Sylvia. It felt nice actually.”

Sylvia’s gaze fell to the increasingly darkening and wet spot on Riz’s shirt.

“He hurt you,” she hissed, levelling that stern big sister’s glare on Sylvan again—the threat for Sylvan to behave was crystal clear. "You're hurt and he's the culprit."

Sylvan watched with increasing curiousity and interest when Riz’s gleaming red eyes blinked oh-ever-so-slowly, as if the man was baffled and uncomprehending of what she just said.

“I beg your pardon?”

Sylvia barely able to bring the man's attention to the elephant in the room when purple flame erupted from the fireplace—a sign of travel across universes rather than the regular green flame of the Floo network—as the absent member of their little group finally arrived. The silhouette of Mildred emerged from the purplish fume as the young woman waltzed into the room with her typical cheery greeting, only for her to shriek right the next second, shaky finger pointing to the dark wet spot on Riz’s shirt;

“RIZ, YOU’RE BLEEDING!”

They all noticed the way red eyes widened in genuine shock when Riz finally looked down at his bleeding torso. It took the man a few blinks to process everything before he hurriedly pressed a hand over the wound, turning around to shoot a questioning look at the obvious culprit.

“You really didn’t notice at all,” Sylvan mused matter-of-factly, intrigue and curiousity dripping from each syllable. “Curious.”

Riz sighed, looking more exasperated than upset than one would expect him to be for someone who has been coldly betrayed and stabbed by a person he trusted.

“You couldn’t ask like a normal person?”

“You would’ve lied,” Sylvan responded matter-of-factly.

There was a brief pause, followed with a soft huff;

“Touché.”

Much to the bafflement of the women in the room, there was the slightest quirk of a smile on Riz’s face as he said that—as if he found amusement in Sylvan’s unhinged way of exploring his curiosity; as if he wasn’t upset at all for being stabbed during a hug. Instead, he shifted to lean against the backrest of the sofa, pulling his shirt out to inspect the damage of the wound. The hint of a smile returned to his face once he finally let his shirt down once again, seemingly satisfied that his wound wasn’t serious enough to merit urgent care.

Crossing his arms, he met Sylvan’s curious stare with a fond amused smile plastered on his face, much to Sylvia and Mildred’s disbelief.

“I can’t feel pain,” Riz then stated flatly, dropping that bombshell with the casual ease of someone stating that the sky is blue. “Or temperature, for all that matters.”

There was a beat of contemplative silence as they all tried to process that unexpected information.

Sylvia knew she should’ve jinxed Sylvan during that merciful period of silence.

Unfortunately, she still held a shred of trust for the doppelganger she had learned to love as her twin brother, only to belatedly realised that the trust was undeserving.

Sylvia regretted her total inaction against the actual unhingedness of her brother the moment Riz spasmed and crumpled onto himself—Sylvan’s outstretched hand and curious calculative stare were the only indicators that something had indeed happened.

Sylvia lamented over her part in persuading Natty teaching them all how to cast spells without wands; more so when she was the one who suggested learning to use the Unforgivable Curses non-verbally and without wand to her unhinged brother.

The free period after the N.E.W.T. exam was the breeding ground of so many of her pre-adulthood regrets.

“Yet you feel that?” Sylvan’s hyper-fixation reared its ugly head in that intrigued question, and this time (since she was actually alert of it) Sylvia noticed the magic in the air as Sylvan cast Crucio onto Riz again, completely tuning everyone else but his object of fixation from his devoted intrigued attention.

Damn, Sylvia has forgotten how psychopathically unhinged her twin could be beneath that cuddle-bear jovial persona Sylvan often displayed.

To Riz’s credit though, this time he only twitched and huffed—looking more as if he was surprised and taken off guard rather than a pained reaction to being tortured—not a sound slipped from his lips to indicate that he was in any form of pain.

“The pain?” instead, the tall man huffed, sounding more annoyed than anything else. “Still a no,” he straightened up, meeting Sylvan’s baffled frown with a slight smirk. “I’m not invincible, Syl,” he then has the balls to snort, as if Sylvan’s obvious confusion was genuinely hilarious to him. “My body is still affected by the injury and the curse; I simply couldn’t feel any of the pain that came along with it.”

“Why?” Sylvan scowled; his lips curled to a guiltless sulky pout. “How?”

“Broken genetic,” came Riz’s nonchalant response. “It’s a hereditary disease.”

They all then watched with great bafflement (Sylvia and Mildred shared a healthy dose of concern too) as Riz cast a quick healing charm on himself, before immediately downing a vial of Wiggenweld potion. It looked as if the whole process was a habitual practice that the man did on instinct—from the brief yet methodical way he checked himself for more potential injuries, to the seamless healing procedure he did on himself afterward. The bleeding wound on his torso knitted itself together with the masterful precision of someone who has mastered that particular healing charm.

By the time Riz waved the empty vial of Wiggenweld away to nothingness, the dark-haired man looked impeccable as he typically would be as if he hadn’t been stabbed and tortured twice with an Unforgivable Curse within the span of the last fifteen minutes.

The only thing looking out of place on Riz was the small rip of his shirt over his perfectly healed torso.

"So, you have a disease that causes you to not be able to feel pain?" with the eagerness and the energy of a curious puppy, plus the absurd shamelessness only he would be capable to muster, Sylvan immediately asked, practically bouncing towards the other man to inspect the healed wound. "What can you feel?" he chattered on, reaching out a hand to cup Riz's cheek, thumbs tracing the dark circles under the red eyes. "Can you feel this?"

"It's not pain," Riz's response was laced with adoring amusement, which baffled the only sane people in the room (Sylvia and Mildred) even more. "So, yes. I can feel your touch, Syl."

"How about this?" Sylvan brought Riz's hand to his hair, burrowing the pale long fingers deep into the floof of the mess that was his hair. "Can you feel how soft my hair is?"

"Yes, I can feel the texture," this time, Riz let out a genuine chuckle. "And yes, your hair is really soft."

Sylvan retreated, eyes nearly sparkled in awe and intrigue as he breathed out;

"Fascinating."

The soft indulgent smile on Riz's face as Sylvan continued to bombard him with questions upon questions would've made the whole situation endearing had it all didn't start with the man being stabbed and cursed with the Torture Curse twice.

While Mildred was genuinely confused and baffled by the whole thing, Sylvia found herself at the end of her last wit. She was so close to dragging the poor confused (and reasonably concerned) Mildred out of there. They could crash at Sebastian's if the desperation really kicked in. Even though Anne didn't know about the whole multiverse thing, she was introduced to Mildred as Sylvia’s friend from out of town.

It wouldn't be too strange, wouldn't it?

Glancing at the clock, Sylvia wondered if it wasn't too late to send a message asking Anne and Sebastian if it would be okay should she and Mildred crash at their place—

"How about sex? I can't imagine enjoying sex without a bit of healthy pain mixed in."

Sylvia’s train of thoughts derailed and crashed to the abyss of nope right then.

God NO.

Snapping her head around to glare at the absolute epitome of shamelessness that was her doppelganger-turned-brother, Sylvia had a split second to notice the way Mildred's face turned near the same shade as the young woman's own hair; only to internally curse when the shock on Riz's face morphed to an expression of indulgent amusement upon being asked that blatantly intrusive and private question.

Of course, Sylvan wasn’t the only unhinged one here.

"I can still enjoy myself, Sylvan," Riz almost sounded like he was purring, voice low and patiently indulgent.

Sylvia wondered how much of a chaotic little shit Riz's niece was for the man to still be able to maintain collected composure even in this kind of situation.

"Howwww????"

Oh god, he starts whining, Sylvia thought in horror.

To Riz's credit, he remained calm and composed even when Sylvan's hand found purchase in his hair, tugging in such an intimately rough way that has probably crossed all the socially acceptable lines between friends even a recluse loner like Sylvia would know. 

"I assume that would have been painful to other people?" was Riz’s calm indulgent response to that.

Sylvan pouted. "Painfully good."

Sylvia wanted out.

And probably disowned Sylvan forever—the unhinged brat being the only family she had left be damned.

"Oh," Riz said. "It doesn't hurt for me."

"Does it invoke anything though?" Sylvan persisted, sounding as if he was desperate for any form of a satisfactory answer. "Any pleasure? Sparks of arousal?"

On the saner side of the room, Mildred's face was officially the same shade of pink as her hair.

There was a brief pause. "No?"

Sylvan audibly sighed, frowning at the other man.

"How does sex work for you, man?" He whined, brows furrowing as he gazed at Riz as if he was presented with a puzzle he couldn't solve. "If you can't feel pain or temperature, what gets you going?"

Mildred very slowly brings her hands up to her ears, keeping her gaze on the floor and away from the pair, looking as if she was about to jump into the fireplace back home to the safety of her own world.

Sylvia could relate. Perhaps it’s too late to message Sebastian. Maybe a visit to Mildred’s world would be the sweet escape she needed from this insanity—

"I can perceive texture and pressure?"

Sylvan frowned at Riz; face twisted to the expression of full concentration he usually wore while solving his favourite puzzles.

Sylvia should have known that nothing good would befall her sanity if she remained within a kilometre radius of Sylvan whenever the brat entered his unhinged obsessive mode. She knew that there was no stopping Sylvan once he was fixated on something, or that there was no limit to his shamelessness in this kind of situation—that he would do anything in his power to receive an answer he deemed satisfactory.

Sylvia heard Mildred whimper in pure torment—the poor woman made the mistake of lifting her head at the exact time Sylvan took two of Riz’s fingers into his mouth. The unhinged brat took the fingers all the way to the knuckles, the accompanying noise was absolutely unholy and obscene, even more so when he ended it with a deliberate curl of his tongue over the tip of the digits—never once he removed the eye contact.

Sylvia watched Riz’s jaw slacked open in the rare moments he was rendered speechless and taken off guard, only to notice the way the man’s red eyes dilated ever so slightly as Sylvan wiped his mouth and cocked a brow—a question and challenge bundled in one expression.

“I…am able to feel that.”

Mildred squeaked, clearly noticing the way Riz’s voice was much rougher and lower for the comfort of public consumption.

Sylvan’s responding grin was borderline triumphal and maniacal, eyes sparkling like they usually would once he found a clue to solve the puzzle he was obsessing over.

Sylvia took that as the sign to finally noped herself out of there, dragging Mildred by the collar straight to the fireplace where she grabbed a fistful of the Floo powder, not even pausing to entertain Sylvan’s curious question as she shouted her destination, jumping straight into the green flame the moment it erupted into existence.

“Whoa!”

Sylvia finally released the breath she didn’t realise she was holding upon hearing the surprised familiar voice that was always the source of her comfort.

“Hey, love,” Sebastian’s eager greeting faded to that of concern. “Are you two alright?” he asked, the hand he offered felt like a salvation offered for sinners who just escaped hell.

Sylvia inhaled a deep breath.

“Sylvie?”

“Seb,” Sylvia breathed out, still shaky and reeling from the trauma Sylvan just inflicted on him.

“Hmm?”

“I want to be an only child.”

THE END

Curiousity Kills EVERYONE but the Cat

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy (Video Game) Relationships: Very slight Sylvan x Riz (MC x MC) Summary : Sylvan has a new 'puzzle' he obsessed over. Everyone is going to suffer; except Riz because he is clearly enjoying it. Notes : I deleted this from my Ao3 because I have never seen MCxMC fic there and I don't feel it's okay (?) to start doing it lol. However, this whole blog is ruled by my MCs so this is my place to spill the brainrot these gremlins fed me. Anyhoo, what that started with me wondering how would my boy Sylvan react when he finds out about Riz's condition, spiralled to this unholy abomination. Extra Notes : Extreme medical inaccuracies and inaccurate representation of a real life condition cuz my limited research would never be enough to accurately represent this condition. Also, no beta we die like Ranrok's Loyalists.

“Sylvan, no.”

Startled from his shameless staring, Sylvan immediately shot a questioning look to his sister; whom to her credits, met his gaze with the same unimpressed expression that seemed to have been permanently carved on her face. She took a long sip of her steaming cup, levelling THE look she has been giving him ever since she came crashing into his life 19 years ago.

It was a very specific look that served as a warning that he better not does whatever that he was thinking of doing because she would not be cleaning up after him.

And did that look ever worked?

Nope. Never.

Twenty-four years of age and she has been living with him as his twin sister for the better eighteen years of that lifespan.

She should have known better that there’s no stopping him if he already set his mind on something.

Grinning, Sylvan shot her a playful wink and weaved his escape before she could even put her cup down to physically stop him from approaching their alternate self.

To be honest, Sylvan never agreed with that term.

He and Sylvia? Yeah, he could consider that she is his alternate self. Her name is the feminine version of his. The two of them shared the exact same facial features—from their uniquely unnatural hair and eye colourings, down to the magic-inflicted scar on their right cheek and the tiny mole under their left eye. Her parents were the exact copy of his own, despite having completely different personalities and made different life choices than his—pivotal choices that Sylvan knew marked the start of the chain of events leading to Sylvia being born over a year earlier than him into a much harsher upbringing.

It was a good thing that the whole ancient magic awakening practically tossed Sylvia across time and space into his world.

She got better parents and one adorable baby brother. He got the sister he has been begging his parents to give him—albeit and older one than a younger sibling that he asked for but hey, he wasn’t complaining. A sibling is still a sibling. Plus, his parents got a beautiful daughter to match their cute son.

And Sylvia’s parents—should they somehow survived the ancient magic explosion—were relieved from the shame of a Squib child they did not want.

Win-win situation for everyone involved.

(Provided if Sylvia’s original parents survived but Sylvan honestly couldn’t care less.)

Sylvia was what he would have become had his parents didn’t take their sweet lovely time courting and falling in love with each other. Sylvia was what Sylvan would have been if he was born to a loveless marriage revolved around preserving magical blood purity. Sylvia was what Sylvan would have become had he was born in a world where his parents only cared of their magical lineage rather than celebrating the child born from mutual love and respect.

So, it’s logical of Sylvan to consider Sylvia as his doppelganger from another timeline.

(Because she is.)

The others, though?

Not so much.

Mildred is a Muggleborn, which is drastically different from both Sylvia and Sylvan whose parents both came from strictly pure-blooded families.

Riz, although is of a pure-blood descent, is also nothing like Sylvia and Sylvan since their lineage at least didn’t stick too exclusively to blood family as Riz’s did.

The four of them all shared the same rare ability of ancient magic and went through eerily similar chain of events of fighting against Ranrok, dealing with Sebastian going rogue down the dark wizard path in their race against time to save Anne, plus the whole drama between the Keepers and Isidora—all of which happened simultaneously during their first year at Hogwarts as ‘the new fifth year’.

It was the same chain of events with each of them playing the pivotal role right in the middle of the chaos. They went through the exact same thing—albeit with different choices made as they triumphed over the events—but Sylvan couldn’t see either Mildred or Riz to be anything similar enough to him to label them as his doppelganger.

The both of them are not and would never be an alternate version of Sylvan like Sylvia is. Their life and origins were too different for that.

Sylvan always thought that ‘the chosen one’ being assigned the power of the ancient magic in their respective world would have been much more accurate descriptor for Mildred and Riz.

Just like how this world needed someone of his and Sylvia’s ability to deal with Ranrok’s uprising and the Keepers’ Secret; Sylvan assumed other worlds that shared the same storyline like his own would need an ancient magic wielder to deal with Ranrok’s uprising too. His world just happened to be so lucky because instead of having one wielder of the ancient magic, it got two—him and Sylvia.

Riz and Mildred were not and would never be him, so Sylvan didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt as he swiftly pocketed the small blade he had stabbed into and pulled out of Riz’s side the moment he engulfed the other man into a hug.

Sylvan is always the cuddly one. It’s absolutely normal of him to randomly cuddle people without prior notice.

Plus, he gives fantastic hugs. People love his hugs.

What’s not normal was the lack of care Riz was currently displaying, despite the blood that now has started seeping into the fabric of his shirt.

Sylvan had been careful to not inflict too deep of a cut—and he also prided himself on how quick his hand was while doing so—but he hadn’t expected for the other man to not even notice.

Not a yelp. Not a grimace. Not even a minute twitch of his expression to indicate that he noticed that in the short second Sylvan pulled him into a cuddle, he also received a quick cruel stab to his side.

Instead, Riz simply sighed in resignation right there in Sylvan’s arms, one gloved hand reached up to ruffle Sylvan’s eternally messy hair as if this was a perfectly normal domestic situation. The man showed no signs of pain or discomfort, despite Sylvan’s fingers tracing the wet ripped fabric of his shirt. The barest hint of his exasperated smile remained laced with fondness as Riz continued petting Sylvan's head, despite Sylvan's fingertips started dipping slightly into the edge of his open wound.

“If you’re trying to tickle me, I am sorry to disappoint,” the dry unimpressed drawl was the only indicator that Riz did notice something.

It didn’t seem that he noticed the injury though.

Curious and intrigued at the sheer abnormality Riz was displaying, Sylvan dug his fingers deeper into the wound.

There was still no reaction. Not even the slightest twitch to indicate that Riz was feeling the pain.

Unsatisfied and getting even more intrigue, Sylvan toyed with the fresh wound, marvelling at the feeling of sticky blood coating his fingers—so warm and pleasant unlike the ferocious metaphorical heat of Sylvia’s disbelieving ire burning from across the room.

Riz snorted, still unfazed—still unbothered. “Not ticklish, Sylvan.”

Sylvan frowned. Perhaps if he pressed a bit deeper—?

“SYLVAN!”

[sweeethinny]

Life was too cruel for you, but now it's over - Part II

I changed the name of the fic, but it's the second part of the fanfic where Jily lives and Lily believes she's pregnant but can't take the pregnancy test - here now finally published on AO3!

thanks to @startanewdream who made me think about this fanfic again

---------------

Another week had passed since that fateful day when Lily sat and stared at the pregnancy test in front of her, and since then, the object has remained untouched in a drawer, among her socks and scarves, just waiting to be used.

And no matter how much time passed, and if it had been almost two weeks since her period was late—something that had only happened once in her entire life, and that was when she was pregnant with Harry—she was still mortified with fear.

She tried to talk to James, and even Harry about it, but she always deflected the subject, feeling silently judged by the two of them, terrified of what they would think of her.

Lily should have known how to take care of herself at forty, and she should have remembered to take the potion at the correct time… it wasn't a lesson she wanted to be passing on to Harry, who had just moved out of his parents' house to live with Ginny.

It was like she was letting everyone and herself down.

Lily just wanted to cry.

Sitting on the sofa in the living room, Apolo on her lap and the pregnancy test in her hand, Lily nearly jumped out of her body when a roar in the fireplace was heard and the flames turned green, Sirius jumping through them looking confused and lost, all covered in ash. “Oh shit,” he muttered to himself before looking over at Lily, looking petrified in place—as much as Apolo had run to hide under the couch, always startled by the noises Floo made. ''Sorry Lils, I was supposed to go home, but there's something in our floo that's been making us fall into other houses instead of ours and... what's that in your hand?''

His eyes, always so smart and knowing, landed on her hand, especially on the pregnancy test Lily held as if she depended on it to stay alive. Sirius' blue irises seemed to grow on her face as he widened his eyes, mouth slightly open, also mortified in place, staring at Lily as if all the words had fled his brain. And she didn't judge him, because she felt the same.

The two stood there staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Sirius blinked and approached, sitting down next to Lily, and wordlessly hugging her.

It was all she needed at that moment.

A river of tears formed and ran down Lily's eyes, wetting the velvet cloak Sirius was wearing; the sobs echoed through the empty, silent house, as if Lily were a little girl who had fallen off her bicycle and now needed her father to hold her and tend to her scraped knee.

But this time, it would take a lot more than a bandage and a kiss on the wound for the pain and all the emotions to settle in her chest.

“It's okay… it's going to be okay,” Sirius muttered to her, stroking her hair as he once did when James was injured during a mission and was in the hospital. "I'm here... we're all here," Lily didn't know if Sirius really understood the gravity of the situation, or if that in her hand was really a pregnancy test, but maybe, after so many years, he'd finally created a better emotionally side than when he was younger and thought he was king of the world.

''I'm scared,'' Lily sobbed, clutching his cloak as if it were her life raft. ''What will James think?''

''He's going to be more than happy, Lils,'' Sirius tightened his arms around her. ''Why is you thinking about that?''

''I...'' Lily stopped, not knowing how to vocalize what the voices in her head had been screaming in her mind ever since she began to suspect this pregnancy. It was such a cruel thing, even she was aware of it, not wanting other people to find out how mean she could be to herself. ''I don't know if I can be a mother, Sirius,''

''But you're already Lily,'' He pulled her away from her embrace, making her look at him. ''What's the difference now?''

"I don't know if I know how to be a mother of a… normal child.'' Lily put her hand over her mouth, hating herself so much for even thinking about it. Sirius, however, didn't seem to hate her for what she'd said.

''It's an understanding fear.'' was all he said.

The two hugged again, Sirius looking much more willing to allow Lily to cry over him and be one hundred percent vulnerable than at other times where the two had been in situations that called for it.

Time seemed to pass slowly there, the two of them holding each other, waiting until all the tears Lily had been keeping to herself were gone and she could take a deep breath again without sobbing and crying again. When that finally happened, Sirius wiped her face, kissed her forehead like a big brother, and looked into her eyes;

''You are an amazing mother, Lily. You were a mother in a very unusual situation, yes, but even so, you were the best you could be. And if in that chaotic world you already made flowers grow on dead land, imagine now where you can experience that moment again, but with the tranquility you should have had the first time,''

''But that's what scares me,'' she said, filling her lungs with air. ''What if I only know how to be a mother under these circumstances? The past will never stop chasing me Sirius, I feel like I've been waiting for someone to come along and try to kill this kid too, you know?'' Sirius nodded, taking a deep breath along with Lily. ''The tranquility scares me,'' Lily gave a humorless laugh, rolling her eyes. “What a silly thing to say.”

''Don't be so mean to yourself, Lils,'' Sirius smiled sadly at her, holding her face with immense affection. ''We, unfortunately, didn't have an easy life and grew up in situations that weren't normal or kind to us, Harry mainly, but now, it's over. As scary as it is at first, peace and tranquility are things that should have been normal for us, and gradually it will become routine, so I understand your fear, but don't think you're alone in this ocean. We are all with you. Believe me, James is just as afraid as you are, as are Harry, me, Moony… For different reasons, of course, but we all also fear tranquility because we’ve been used to chaos.”

"Since when did you become so therapeutic?" Lily chuckled softly, sniffling and blinking away the tears that had formed again.

''You know, Robards makes us go to lectures on mental health,'' He shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “And Hestia and I are going to that couples therapy… no one is letting me be crazy in peace anymore.”

Lily laughed at her friend, glad he was there with her, much calmer than she had been hours before, even minutes ago.

''Thanks,'' She kissed him on the cheek, giving Sirius one more tight hug. ''Really.''

''Always here, Lils,'' Sirius kissed the top of her head again. ''Want to be alone?''

''No, I... stay with me while I take the test,'' He nodded, and the two headed upstairs, towards Lily and James' room. Sirius remained seated in the chair in their closet while Lily went to the bathroom, her hands shaking and sweaty clutching the pregnancy test apprehensively.

It was unnecessary, frankly, for Lily to take the test, as if there was one thing she was proud of, it was the fact that her period was well-regulated; but maybe she could be entering menopause early? You never know what might have happened to her body after being exposed to so much dark magic, curses, and all those potions made to kill someone she made when she was younger in the Order.

But she peed on the stick anyway, washing her hand afterward and placing the test on the sink, opening the door so Sirius could wait with her.

For three minutes, he told her about the trip he was planning to Barcelona, ​​about the places he and Hestia wanted to visit, and how he was having to work twice as hard so he could get his vacation early.

When the alarm she set went off, the two fell silent, looking at each other with a certain apprehension that Lily had only seen in Sirius' eyes at other times.

''Let's go...'' Lily got up, heading to the bathroom.

''Regardless of the outcome, I'll be here,'' Sirius put his arm under her shoulders, hugging her sideways as they looked at the test above.

''I think James and I will have to change our plans about going on that cruise,'' Lily said, biting her lip to hold back the tears that again wanted to break out.

The two little streaks were clearly visible on the test, just like when she was pregnant with Harry.

[sitp-recs]

Individual recs - May 2020

Happy Sunday! The amazing @thebooktopus recently posted her masterlist of individual recs and inspired me to do the same, hoping to keep track of this mess if nothing else. I was worried curious to see how much work this would take, and after going through my own archive (ty SS for showing me how!) I was shocked to realize that all of these were posted on the blog’s first month. 80 recs in 30 days is something I’ll never be able to do again. Most of them are on the short side (how did I ever manage two-line reviews? who knows, not me) but over time they turned into 3+ rambling paragraphs. As a classic procrastinator I will be taking my sweet time going through them, but here’s the first batch as a way to force myself to keep going. This is more for my personal records than anything else but in case anyone’s interested in seeing them all in one place:

A Ghost in the Garden by thistle_verse

A Hippogriff for Christmas by xanthippe74

A Lick and a Promise by tackytiger

A Song, Incomplete by RurouniHime

A Sword Laid Aside by korlaena

Against All Odds by momatu

All Bets Are Off by dualwieldteacup

All Missing Things (Can Be Found) by gracie137

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound

All Roads Lead Home by dracogotgame 

amid this warm and steady sweetness by warmfoothills

And Save Me From Bloody Men by blamebrampton

Any Instrument by dictacontrion

At the Crossroads There We’ll Meet by firethesound

At Your Service by faithwood

Between Two Fires of Beltane by secretsalex

break the bad luck in my life by seaworn

Chocolate and Pastry by agentmoppet

Countdown by dysonrules

Crossing Lines by Ren

Embers by shiftylinguini

fly like paper, high like planes by harryromper

Headlights in the Snow by Saras_Girl

In Which Harry is Magnetic North and Draco is An Idiot by bryoneybrynn

In Your Arms, Rests My World by loveglowsinthedark

I’ll Floo Home for Christmas by jadepresley

I Bet You Look Good at the Dancefloor by birdsofshore

In Our Blood by secretsalex

Intelligence by aideomai

It’s Up That I Fell by zuzallove

Let Me Have You and I’ll Let You Save Me by Frayach

Level Two: Series One by Ashii Black, blamebrampton, Catsintheattic, dustmouth, epithalamium, incandescent, JosephineStone, nerakrose, raitala, Romaine, Vaysh and Writcraft

Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho) by Writcraft

Lost and Found by rillalicious

Match Fit by ravenclawsquill

Matched Set by astolat

measures of our days and nights by flimsi

My Name Was Safest in Your Mouth by alpha-exodus​

Nice Things by aideomai

On Your Way by lqtraintracks

Open for Repairs by feelsforbreakfast

Potential Gravity by zeitgeistic​

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael

Reparations by Saras_Girl

Right Hand Red by lqtraintracks

Running on Air by eleventy7

Solve Us Like a Mystery by tryslora

Speak (and may the world come undone) by shealwaysreads

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi

Take the Air by dysonrules

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop

Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrims0n

That Old Black Magic by bixgirl

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered

The Four Ds of Apparition (or: Destination, Determination, Deliberation, and Dicks) by eidheann and firethesound

The Full Monty by magpiefngrl

The Good Guys by Frayach

the keys to your kingdom by thistle_verse

The Paradox of Active Surrender by korlaena

The Strongest Affinity by eidheann

The Wand Slipped by sdk

There is Always the Moon by firethesound

This Christmas, I Give You My Everything by loveglowsinthedark

Through His Teeth by dictacontrion

Time and Again by lauren3210

Touch me Fall by lqtraintracks

Transmutations by khasael

Trouble, my Old Friend by Tepre

Turn From Stone by harryromper

Unseen by astolat

Vale Sanare by RurouniHime

Vortex by xanthippe74

Waiting by an Open Door by Femme and noeon 

Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious

What Real Thing? by loveglowsinthedark

What We Pretend We Can’t See by gyzym

When You Kiss Me (What A Lovely Way To Burn) by Femme 

White as Snow by bixgirl

Who We Are in the Shadows by quicksilvermaid

You Open Always (Petal by Petal) by birdsofshore

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass

[americanmoths]

lost in translation

Ten days after they break up, Draco owls him about his snake.

“You’ve lost Sal?” Harry asks when he tumbles through the floo at the manor. He should get some sort of award for asking about Draco’s beloved white python instead of about why Draco unceremoniously broke off the Really Good Thing Between Them after only six months. The Harry Potter Award for Staying On Topic When All You Want to Do is Cuss the Fucker Out, given annually to an outstanding candidate in the field.

“I don’t lose things,” Draco snaps. “He’s somewhere on the manor ground. We have wards; I know when anything living leaves. I just don’t know his exact location.”

“Sounds like you lost him.”

“I didn’t. Are you going to help me find him or are you going to be an ass?”

Obviously Harry’s going to help him find Sal; he’ll do anything Draco asks if it means he gets to be near him. “Errrr what exactly do you want me to do.”

“You speak parseltongue,” Draco says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So I’m supposed to just walk around hissing?” Draco’s eyes steel the way they do when he realizes he’s wrong but has decided to continue on with his plan as though he’s not.

“Yes,” he says and walks into the garden. Harry follows behind him like a dog. He’s not even sure he can speak parseltongue unless he’s actively looking at a snake, but he really doesn’t know how to turn Draco down when he has that intense look in his eye.

What do you say to get a snake to return to you? Harry doesn’t know, and there’s a lot of ground to cover so he starts at here snakey, snakey and then transitions into come out, come out wherever you are and then to all the things he wants to say to Draco to get him to return: I wake up happy every morning because my pillow smells like you. I miss your laugh, and your ridiculously long bedtime routine, and your complaints about work. Everything in life seems duller because I know I can’t tell you about it later. I’ve never felt this way before. Thinking about feeling this way for anyone else feels wrong. I love you —

“Potter,” Draco suddenly stops. “Are you aware that you’ve been speaking in English?”

“Errrrrr”

“No I had thought not,” Draco looks at something over Harry’s head, frowning, the lines around his nose and mouth turned downward in response to some internal gravity. “Everything you said is all well and good, except I’m—” He thinks for a second. “Knotty, and eventually you’re going to figure out the puzzle isn’t worth the trouble and leave. Everyone always does, and I don’t think I would do very well if I lost you.”

There’s movement in the magnolia tree, and Harry’s pretty sure he can see the tail-end of Sal, but he can’t be expected to stay on topic when Draco looks so dejected, award be damned. 

“It’s bullshit to rush to the ending you expect because you’re scared of what’ll happen when you get there. Not when it’s something like this. Not when it’s love.”

Now, Draco is gaping at him. “You don’t have to hiss at me.”

Harry steps forward, intent on finally getting the language right. He kisses Draco square on the mouth, through his little squawk of surprise into certainty.

--

for @drarrymicrofic​ prompt: caught

[graymatters]

On Insecurity

Number 12 Grimmauld Place smells absolutely rancid as Draco Malfoy feels the warm wash of the wards permit his entrance. A putrid mix of days-old takeaway, stale whiskey and smoke assaults his senses as he scans the poor state of the front room.

He’s not heard from Harry for weeks. As a result, Draco had initially convinced himself that he’d imagined the last few months. Denial and disbelief progressed to a deep sense of guilt, whispering that he would never have been allowed to keep this anyway. Harry must have finally remembered that the creature he’d let crawl into his bed had ugly scars and a black mark that screamed ‘wretched’ and ‘undeserving.’ Draco knew it would happen eventually. He knew it back in December when Harry, wrapped in a crimson and gold scarf, cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, had actually smiled at him when he entered the pub.

Regardless, Draco had wrung every ounce of bliss that he possibly could out of these weeks. He’d savored each time Harry’s knee had secretly rested against his under the table, every soft touch in the middle of the night and the white hot touches that followed after. The short time they’ve had was more than he deserved and he wasn’t going to hurt Harry by asking for more than he could give.

Draco was well into drowning in his disillusionment when Granger had shown up, frazzled and desperate on his doorstep, asking if he’d heard from Harry. She couldn’t reach him by owl, couldn’t get through his floo and the house was warded shut. The distress in her eyes made Draco’s stomach drop and he cursed himself for allowing his self-deprecating nature to make Harry’s absence all about himself.

He weaves through the neglected home to find Harry in a dark and musty upstairs bedroom, sitting on a worn desk with one knee pulled up under his chin, his other leg dangling off the edge. He’s wearing old pajama pants that are two sizes too big and hang low on his hips, but didn’t make it so far as to put on a shirt. His hair isn’t just unkempt, it’s unwashed and greasy. A thin trail of smoke escapes from the end of a lit cigarette that dangles loosely from his hand. Harry absently watches the curling wisps float out the open window next to him.

He turns when the floor creaks under Draco’s weight. The bright green of his eyes contradicts Harry’s lifeless expression and makes Draco uncomfortable.

“Harry,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Draco fidgets with a stray string on his sweater and looks at Harry’s hands, his toes that graze the wooden floorboards.

“I’m not up for this right now,” he mumbles, barely above a whisper.

“And what’s that?” Draco asks, raising his eyes to look at Harry’s chewed lips, the anxious scratch marks that trail his neck and chest.

Harry turns to look back out the window. He places the shrinking cigarette between his lips and mutters around it, “A pep talk.” A clump of ash falls and lands on Harry’s knee. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“What if I’m not here for a pep talk? What if I’m here to bum a smoke?” Draco hopes he sounds confident.

“Then you’re shit out of luck,” he shrugs. “Last one,” he says a bit louder and casually blows smoke in Draco’s direction.

Draco steps towards the desk. “May I sit?”

Harry just shrugs again. Not a ‘no,’ Draco thinks. He sits, and brings his knee up to his chest, mirroring Harry’s position.

He glances at the ash pile that still graces Harry’s knee, raising an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. A subtle nod grants him permission and he brushes the ash off of Harry’s threadbare pants. Their fingers brush as Harry passes the cigarette to Draco. The smoke curls deep in his lungs. He blows it out the window and looks towards Harry when he says, “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

“How are you, really?”

“Shit.”

“I can see that. And smell that.”

Harry huffs a hint of laughter through his nose and aims his gaze towards Draco. “Git.”

“If you wanted sugar-coated truths, you should’ve let Granger through the wards,” Draco shrugs and takes another puff of the cigarette. “This is vile.”

Harry reaches to pluck the cigarette from Draco’s lips. “More for me then.” He places a grin on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s something.

“Thought you were ignoring me,” Draco admits.

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m ignoring everyone.”

“I can see that.”

“Can you smell that, too?” Harry smirks.

Draco ignores him and says, “Figured you’d finally realized the gravity of the mistake you made.”

“Which one?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“The one where you’re sleeping with your arch enemy and sharing your deepest secrets with an ex-death eater,” Draco whispers.

The smirk disappears from Harry’s face and he says, “Sure, every time I see your face I can’t help but think, yup, definitely fucked that one up.”

“You wouldn’t be the only one if you did. Great conversation starter with my parents.”

Harry reaches out to interlace their fingers and says, “I look at you and ask myself what the fuck I did to earn this. I wonder what you were even thinking, getting anywhere near me after… everything.” He gives Draco’s fingers a squeeze. “You’re the one that should be questioning his decisions right now. Unless you think the unshowered and depressed look is sexy?”

“Honestly, Potter, I don’t think there’s a thing you could do to convince me this is a mistake. And the days-old filth and aura of misery is actually quite the turn-on for me. Had to restrain myself from jumping your bones the minute I saw those tattered pants.” Draco looks down at their hands for a moment before continuing, “Now, contrary to my typical behavior, I am not here to talk about me. Do you care to tell me why no one’s heard from you for weeks?” Draco asks as he watches Harry toss the cigarette butt on the floor. It joins a mess of dirty clothes, half-consumed takeaway containers, dirty utensils and piles of ash.

Harry thinks for a moment before answering, “No.”

Draco sends a stern gaze towards Harry. Harry’s knee falls outward and he releases Draco’s hand to place his palms on the desk. He leans forward so far that their lips are nearly touching. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Draco brings his hands up to cup Harry’s face, smooths his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone. He says, “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

Harry leans his cheek into Draco’s hand, closes his eyes as he rests against Draco’s support and says, “Hmmm… Have you ever watched a muggle telly? You couldn’t imagine what I had to pay to get this to work in this ancient fucking house, but how could I wallow in self-pity without it? Walburga screamed for days, can’t believe I didn’t invite you for the fun.” Harry proceeds to slip out of Draco’s hands and off the desk to lean against the doorframe. “Would you like to see?”

“How about we get you in the shower first? Self-care is important, Potter. No, I won’t take this nonsense. You find a clean, and I mean clean, towel and I will get the shower started for you. And before you even ask, yes, you must wash your hair. It is required, or Merlin help me, I will leave, you just watch.”

After Harry is washed, they spend the evening with limbs tangled under blankets, eating popcorn that Draco successfully did not burn. Draco mindlessly runs his fingers through Harry’s damp hair, untangling the strands as he goes. They watch reruns of a show called Friends , and Draco laughs but also questions this Ross fellow’s character. It’s nearly midnight when Draco turns to Harry and says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry turns the volume down as Phoebe sings a rude Christmas song. “Hermione’s pregnant,” he says with a finality.

“Ok. You seem sad.”

“I’m not sad. I’m… Fuck, I don’t know. I’m happy for them, I really am. But,” he exhales loudly.

Harry shifts his hips to settle into the sofa a bit more, presses himself against Draco from shoulder to knee. Still uncomfortable, he turns sideways to slide his legs between Draco’s and leans his elbow against the back of the sofa. Draco waits patiently through the nervous repositioning until Harry responds, “I feel a bit... left behind? It’s like everyone else has figured out how to move on. How to, I don’t know, get past the fucking trauma that we went through, and just, keep going. Hermione’s on track to be Minister of Magic by thirty, Ron’s about to overtake Robards as Head Auror, you’ll be running your own ward at St. Mungo’s, I know you will. And here I am, still having god damned nightmares.” He looks into his lap, “I dropped out of auror training. I had a panic attack during a bogart exercise and I just... left.”

Draco reaches up to brush a stray curl off of Harry’s forehead, revealing the beginning of the lightning bolt scar that continues through his left eye and disperses over his cheekbone. “Harry, you are so good, and brilliant, and beautiful. You can still be what you want to be, whatever that is and whoever that is, whenever you want. Or not. You could escape to Reykjavik. You could start a circus for all I care, as long as you’re happy, the context is irrelevant.”

“What would I do in Reykjavik?”

“Soak in the hot springs til you shrivel up like a prune. Fuck if I know, but that wasn’t really the point. Harry, you don’t owe anyone anything. Do what makes you happy and fuck the rest.”

Harry moves to nuzzle his nose into Draco’s neck. His exhalations are hot against Draco’s skin. He traces his nose to follow the line of muscle up behind Draco’s ear, tugs at the lobe with his teeth and whispers, “You make me happy.”

“Well thank fuck for that. We’re not done here, not even close.”

Harry’s breath tickles Draco’s neck, sends a shiver down his spine. “Can we be done for now?” he whispers into Draco’s ear.

Counting the short conversation as a win, Draco lets out an exasperated sigh and says, “For now.” Harry celebrates his victory by licking a stripe up the side of Draco’s neck, making Draco cringe. The shape of Harry’s smile is obvious as his lips trail gently back down Draco’s skin and his hand settles under Draco’s sweater to rest firmly against his ribs.

Also on AO3.

[dramioneficrecommendations]

Hiii I accidentally jumped in dramione fandom, and I'm looking for good stuff for this weekend. Could pls tell me your 5 (or more)favorite dramione fics ever? Thanks!

I hope you like it here and stay with us… forever. LOL (Honestly, we have the best fics and authors in the entire HP fandom.)

Here are some of my all-time favourite Dramione fics (you can also check out my fic rec tag):

Revert by SUPRNTRAL LVR: Six months post-war, Malfoy is in serious trouble. He’s on the run from the Ministry, Death Eaters, and a deadly curse which is eating him alive. When he hits rock bottom, a change in fortune lands him in 12 Grimmauld Place under the Ministry’s custody - and forces Hermione to remember the secrets they’ve both kept for years. Dramione, Sick!Draco, flashbacks to Hogwarts, hurt. Rated: M - Chapters: 24 - Words: 260,266

Manacled by SenLinYu: Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret locked away in her mind. She is sent as an enslaved surrogate to the High Reeve, to be bred and monitored until it can be accessed. COMPLETE. Rated: M - Chapters: 77 - Words: 384,000

Isolation by Bex-chan: He can’t leave the room. Her room. And it’s all the Order’s fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something’s going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. “There,” she spat. “Now your Blood’s filthy too!” DM/HG. PostHBP. Now complete with epilogue. Rated: M - Chapters: 49 - Words: 284,050

Five Days by RavieSnake: No one knows that they are missing. No one knows where they are. No one knows that they are trapped. No one knows that they are dying. Dramione. WINNER for Best Drama/Angst and Best Tragedy in the Winter 2017 Dramione Fanfiction Awards! Rated: M - Chapters: 14 - Words: 32,001

Aurelian by BittyBlueEyes: Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione’s quiet, post-war life will never be the same. Rated: T - Chapters: 43 - Words: 270,571

The Politician’s Wife by pir8fancier: Hermione hates Draco in the springtime, Hermione hates Draco in the fall, Hermione hates Draco 247. Rated: M - Chapters: 14 - Words: 68,629

The Revenant by atalanta84: Sometimes fate brings us far from home, and sometimes it brings us back again. When a friend’s mysterious death causes Draco Malfoy to return to Britain, he is finally forced to face his past, and the love he left behind. A story about second chances. Rated: M - Chapters: 10 - Words: 67,866

The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man by ianthewaiting: Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain ‘hero’ is responsible. DM/HG, written originally in 2007-2008, and finally making its debut here! AU, DH-EWE, non-canon elements, time travel, character death, etc. Rated: M - Chapters: 28 - Words: 229,334

The Dragon’s Bride by Rizzle: 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. Rated: M - Chapters: 61 - Words: 225,164

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen: COMPLETE: Hermione’s eighth year at Hogwarts is already going to be difficult in the aftermath of the war, but it is further thrown into upheaval when Headmistress McGonagall orders a re-sorting of all students to promote inter-house unity. But when the Sorting Hat sends Hermione to Ravenclaw with Draco - and without Harry or Ron, how will she cope? [AU/Dramione] Prevalent alchemy. Rated: M - Chapters: 70 - Words: 306,322

Thirteenth Night by Nelpher: When Hermione is assigned to keep tabs on a memory-charmed Draco, she is faced with a decision that could change her life forever. Rated: M - Words: 77,997 Chapters: 23

Ordinary People by inadaze22: “Let me be clear about something tonight, Granger. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted. It’s always been you.” Draco steps in the fireplace, drops the Floo powder, and disappears in a burst of green flames. Rated: M - Chapters: 18 - Words: 133,759

This, Too, Is Sacred by HeartOfAspen: COMPLETE: An ancient power has required generations of purebloods to pledge their lives to the blood pact. Draco has long known he was born to uphold this tradition… but Hermione’s parents have secrets, hidden details about her heritage, and soon it will be her turn to cast in with fate. [Dramione AU] Fantastic cover art by Witches-Britches. Rated: M - Chapters: 23 - Words: 90,994

Gravity by luckei1: It’s about arranging stacks of books, wall colours, and jumping off a cliff. Draco/Hermione Rated: T - Chapters: 10 - Words: 87,155

Dystopia (new version) by Rizzle: Kidnapped and expecting to be abandoned to his fate, Draco Malfoy writes a personal account of recent life, love and loss after the end of the Second Wizarding War. His story encompasses two unforgivable acts, a wedding, a divorce, a kidnapping and maybe, just maybe…a rescue. Rated: M - Chapters: 15 - Words: 19,885 

A Slow Cruel Descent by SenLinYu: The war grinds on and Hermione Granger is captured. Unable to crack her through interrogation without risking her mind, Voldemort conceives a cruel method of breaking her that involves Draco Malfoy. “He stared at her in disgust. She looked— broken. The fire she’d still had when she was dragged in was now extinguished. Her eyes were locked on his face like she were memorizing him.” Rated: M - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,687 (Sequel: A Fragile Ascent)

Heavy Lies the Crown by luckei1: For seven years, Draco has carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and just when he thinks he’ll be released, something happens that will make him seek help from the last person he could have imagined. Rated: M - Chapters: 36 - Words: 289,967

To Wear a Dragon’s Skin by creativelymundane: When Bellatrix Lestrange takes control of the wizarding world after the demise of Voldemort, the remnants of the Order keep fighting. Seven years later, Draco brings Hermione a piece of magic that might be the key to finally ending the war. Together they will destroy Bellatrix Lestrange or die trying. Violence, Implicit Rape, Sexual Situations. Rated: M - Chapters: 26 - Words: 137,484

A Pound of Flesh by PennilynNovus: One night at a strip club, Hermione is faced with someone from her past, and an opportunity too good to pass up. What starts as revenge quickly grows into something else, and she may find it to be more than she can handle. Limes, Lemons, M. Rated: NC-17 - Chapters: 33

A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy by Countess of Abe: Draco loves his son more than anything in the world. So, when his ex-wife plans to take his son away, Draco asks the most unlikely person for help. Hermione must decide whether changing her entire life is worth helping the man she hates unconditionally. Rated: M - Chapters: 25 - Words: 136,998

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach: “It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And Hermione has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.” Sometimes you’re sad. Sometimes you need dessert. And sometimes, it’s a little of both. [COMPLETE, DRAMIONE] Rated: M - Chapters: 30 - Words: 80,226

Fairy Stone by Colubrina: Draco is sentenced to one year in Azkaban, release contingent upon someone willing to vouch for his good behavior. Hermione does. “Oh, I want you,” he said. “You, just you, always you. You forever and you for always and you until the bloody sun explodes.” Dramione. COMPLETE. Rated: M - Chapters: 4 - Words: 13,827

The Mountain and The Sea by Alexis.Danaan: Hermione Granger was perfectly happy with her life, her job as a Healer Trainee, her ugly cat and her cute little house in the countryside. And then Draco Malfoy had to go and mess that all up, typical git. Post-Hogwarts, EWE, OOC, creature!fic. 18 Rated: M - Chapters: 12 - Words: 43,464

Celestial Navigation by phlox: Lost, without direction, unable to find your way home? Coming soon, a new Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Ekeltronic to guide you on your journey! *Your mileage may vary.*Rated: T - Chapters: 3 - Words: 13,640

Waiting Room by Nelpher: A series of encounters with Draco Malfoy in the waiting room at St. Mungo’s teaches Hermione about love, friendship, and the intersection thereof. Rated: T - English Words: 61,418 Chapters: 14

Voices by Kyonomiko: Hermione has long accepted she might not make it through the war alive, but after years on the battlefield, she never expected to be at the mercy of Draco Malfoy. Not untouched by his own experiences, his manic behavior leaves her living in constant fear of the unknown, suffering both affections and afflictions at his hands. Rated: M - Chapters: 3 - Words: 19,724

Friend Number Three by riptey: COMPLETE - How do you deal with the Pureblood aristocracy, Ministry corruption, Muggle culture invasions, and constant questions about your love life while juggling more than two friends and not being a total jerk? Don’t ask Draco: he doesn’t know. D/Hr Rated: T - Chapters: 26 - Words: 138,388

Seven Days In April by inadaze22: They were still the same people with the same problems on either side of a bathroom door. Rated: T - Chapters: 7 - Words: 40,097 

Everything Changes by inadaze22: “Thank you for cheating on me, Ron. It’s the best thing you could’ve done. Thank you for stopping me from making the worst mistake of my life.” My first Dramione story. Rated M for strong language and sexual content. Rated: M - Chapters: 17 - Words: 76,191 

Out of the Silent Planet by ianthe_waiting: Post-Hogwarts - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape’s final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve’ something of importance. Set eleven years after HBP. Rated: NC-17 - Chapters: 39 - Words: 229,710

Ardent Bonds by Musyc: Maybe it was wrong to think about this, maybe it was horrible to even consider, but if Draco Malfoy liked to dominate, she couldn’t stop herself from picturing it. Picturing him. Rated: E - Words: 16,741 - Chapters: 1

Seven Times by kerriclifford240879: Seven times can mean a lifetime of change. Rated: M - Chapters: 7 - Words: 16,526