#EVEN IF HE'S NOT A DEATH EATER HE'S STILL A CREEP AND SHOULD BE UNDER WATCH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spikybanana · 1 year

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this... got long. why do I attempt plot? part six of the jegulily mini series. prompt: party [masterpost here] [prompts here]

Nearly another year had passed before everything came to a head in a single day.

Lily vaguely wondered if everyone’s early adulthood had every year feeling like ten, or was the war taking everything from them. Already they’ve lost people, no one close to them yet, dear god, but at the bottom of her soul she knew it was only a matter of time. It’s been more than half a year since anyone had heard from Mary, and her absence lodged like an ice chip between the girls whenever they saw each other. The boys were struggling too. The last time James and Peter saw each other had both close to tears, frustrated at the unassailable distance creeping between them. Remus and Sirius still floo in from time to time, of course, but ever since they started saying there’s a spy in the order— well. Lily worried for them. She wished they’d each trust themselves a little more. As for London, the city suited Remus and Sirius well enough, them wild, lost boys, but after a year, Lily decided they’ve had enough of the city’s frantic airlessness. Day in, day out scrambling between Mungo’s, the Ministry and the Order made her feel like the frozen traffic, and she wasn’t going to stand another day of accepting the weight of London’s ever-darkening sky into her chest. So they— left. Picked out a cottage in Godric’s Hollow that James and Regulus both pitched in to buy with a shrug (their casual wealth had never ceased to amuse her). And where they had a little more space, a little more peace, it became a little easier to find hours that were just James and Regulus and her, cuddled by the fireplace or having a dinner of spaghetti bolognese under candlelight. Since Reg finished school, they’ve also had the long-yearned-for luxury of full nights together, even though he still had to appease the parents from time to time. And god, wasn’t it sweet to love. At least here, there was a shadow of a quiet, happy future.

But for long months, the horcrux business has seen no progress. Every lead they had led to dead ends. There wasn't even an indication for if their search was over: Riddle had told Slughorn he'd split his soul into seven— but did that mean there were seven horcruxes? Or six? And had he even gone through with it all? Was he constantly making new ones as they pick up on the old? All difficult questions, for sure. If any of the rest of them trusted Dumbledore a little more, the wizened old man probably would have better ideas than turning over the debris of Wool's orphanage again, but alas.

The break did come, eventually. Out of nowhere, it seemed, two pieces of clues flew at them. Within days of each other, Remus and Sirius finally found the Gaunt’s house and Regulus found out about the cave through the incident with Kreacher.

One can imagine the excitement incurred, but they couldn’t and didn’t act directly, all five of them swarming like a hive upon their target. Their positions were precarious now, their every act would be scrutinised as overt Order members or the should-be Death Eater everyone expected to have taken the mark straight out of school. And what if they fail? What if they get found out at one point before they could get to the other? That was the point when Sirius proposed what Lily thought was apparently-ingenious but equally could-be-disastrous. That they split up. If Regulus investigated the cave with Kreacher, and Sirius and James headed for the Gaunt’s house— that leaves Remus and Lily on backup if anything should be needed.

“Lovely.” Remus had grimaced drily, “I shall patiently await my lover’s return from war.”

Lily had chuckled and shoved him. “Don’t be grumpy,” then dropping her voice so only Remus could hear, “I need you to come with me to the hospital… There’s something I need to check.”

Remus’ eyes widened, but he didn’t press for questions, nor protest further.

Such was the prelude that brought them to the present moment, the two of them in an empty house, waiting very patiently indeed. In fact, Lily sat frozen on their sofa, her mind at once stunned and racing. Remus was no longer trying to make comforting conjectures, only had an arm around her and slowly massaged her shoulder. Dear god, Lily thought, and they were only twenty.

Then, with a bang, the front door opened— or fell down, she wasn’t sure— Remus and Lily scrambled up in time to see James and Sirius stumbling through onto the ground in a pile. They were panting heavily, their clothes thoroughly rumpled and charred at places, even James’ glasses was half-coated with soot. His eyes found Lily’s, and he sprung up—

“Lily!” James exclaimed, his hands immediately at her face, touching her cheeks, her hair, down her arms, as if checking she was still real. “Are you— is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes. We’re fine! What happened to you?” Her voice was tight with anxiety. She glanced at Sirius, who impatiently waved off the wand Remus held out to check for any wounds.

“Has Regulus gotten back yet?”

“No! James, what happened?”

“Well, we’ve. We’ve got news.”

For a moment, all the blood rushed to Lily’s head. “Oh. Me too.” She whispered, before she shook herself and returned her attention to the boys. "What–"

"Dumbledore found out. So did Voldemort. Not in that order." Sirius snapped.

“Well fuck.” Remus breathed.

Fuck indeed. Lily did not think the worst could actually have happened. Though this was certainly not the worst possible, given that they all got back with limbs intact, except—

"How do we get to Reg?" Sirius spoke her thoughts out loud. Anxious looks flitted between them.

"Kreacher!” Lily exclaimed, “Can you still summon him?"

Sirius blinked, “Yes. Yes you’re right.” he glanced furtively at Lily’s ‘don’t-sound-so-surprised’ look, then called out. “Kreacher!”

There was a single beat of silence, then the air contracted and swirled in anticipation of a long apparation. In the next moment, Regulus fell through, barely supported by Kreacher, and all four of them fell upon him.

“Merlin, you hoard of hens,” Regulus rasped, before falling into a chain of coughs.

At first glance, Regulus looked horrible. Drenched from head to toe and covered with scratches on his clothes, his skin, as if he’d been pulled out of a mob of pale, thin claws. But Lily could tell, while his face was pale it wasn’t sick from curse or poison, and his limbs were warm under her palm.

James was on his knees, supporting Regulus from his back. Sirius carefully took up one of Regulus’ hands, and Remus, somehow clear-headed, had him dried and the small wounds healed in seconds. And in the feverish assurance that they were together, they were— safe— Lily couldn’t help it, she pulled Regulus’ still-stunned face to hers and kissed him full on the mouth, then pulled James into the kiss too. She squeezed her eyes shut. At least one of them was crying in relief because there were tears mingled with the kiss.

Regulus eventually pulled away. A fearful frown had made its way between his brows. “Voldemort.” He breathed.

James nodded. “He found us first.”

“Ah.” Regulus’ sharp gaze somehow betrayed not a hint of surprise. “How long since you got back?”

“You were only minutes behind us.” Sirius replied, “We had to report to Dumbledore. He’s got to deal with the rest, now. We can’t risk going back out there, he’s seen all three of us.”

“Do you reckon,” Remus suggested, “that Voldemort went on a raging rampage to check up the other horcruxes, before he got to Reg?”

“We think so.” James said, “should have bought you some time.”

Regulus frowned still. “How did he find you in the first place? A curse around the house would have been too detectable, you didn’t fall for something of that sort?”

“Won’t you have some faith in us?” his brother bristled. “We were tracked. By the sort of spell that’s nearly undetectable when cast by familiar magic.”

“...The spy.” Lily breathed.

“Was I right?” Regulus looked at Sirius then. For long, silent moments, two pairs of slate eyes were caught in a bone-chilling stare.

“It’s Peter.” Sirius relented finally.

It’s too much. It was simply too much for the moment. Lily could feel Remus crumbling in waves from beside her. They’d been close. All of them had been close. But not since school, not since— Lily swallowed the reflexive guilt that came pouring in with anger and thought, if only she could hold them together now.

“I assume you’re not still being tracked.” She murmured, taking James hands and squeezing tight.

“No. Dumbledore found the spell and took it off us. Was how he found who it was.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.” It didn’t sound at all like an entirely light magical procedure, rifling through the magic entangled with a person.

“It was invasive. He did what he had to do.” James caught sight of Regulus’ tight jaw, and nudged him. “How was the cave?”

“Fucking Salazer, Potter. How was the cave? There was an army of inferi guarding a locket in a basin of poison, all in all a very scenic visit.” Regulus took a deep breath, “And how was the house?”

“Burning.” Sirius said with a glint in his eyes. “We found the ring. Burnt it on sight.”

“Voldemort knows how to put out Fiendfyre.”

“We got there before him. The house was already engulfed in flames, he could have done anything.”

“Right, this is all great to hear,” Remus interjected, standing up. “But I assume we’re going into hiding now, all of us.”

“Oh yes, to be locked up with these three in their shack.”

“Sirius, please listen.”

“Fine.”

Remus ignored Sirius’ pout. “How do we do this? Fidelius? I know the spell.”

“Right,” Sirius chuckled, hysterical, “No big deal. Just attempt one of the most complex security spells off the top of your head.”

“And how else? You don’t seem to have a book of reference, do you?” Regulus snapped.

“Just let him do it!” Lily worried for herself. For her having chosen to make a family of these boys.

Remus hesitated again, “who… do we want as secret keeper?”

“Oh my god, I don’t care!” Lily yelled. “Make it yourself, anyone, just make it quick. Don’t we have Voldemort himself on our tail now?”

Later, they would apologise to each other for their abruptness, but in the last dozen minutes, the world had turned on its head. Too much have happened, and Lily hoped the alcohol cupboard was well-stocked because they deserved a party after this ordeal.

“Wait. Lily?” James said, just as he stood up to help Remus, “did you say you’ve also got news?”

“Ah. yes.” Lily’s heart instantly went into overdrive. She stared at her lovers, James’ guileless curiosity and Regulus’ vague concern, and knew that this— this utterly ridiculous moment in the mess of a circumstance was going to be branded in her memories forever.

“So I… I’m pregnant.”

#jegulily #james potter #lily evans #regulus black #jegulily week 2022 #sirius black #remus lupin #the horcrux hunt #marauders fanfiction #fix it #everyone lives #this might need some heavy duty editing come morning

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autumnsnuggling · 2 years

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Congrats on hitting 2k followers! 🎉💜 And now for the prompt... "This is SO unfair!!"

Hi you!!! Thanks so much for this :D This got angsty, with hurt and some comfort, but not much lol <3

Au where Narcissa realises things are going to get really dangerous for her son after shit at the Department of Mysteries goes down (but where Sirius doesn’t die, because no), so she strikes a deal with Snape and the Order to get Draco protection at Grimmauld Place. He moves in over the summer, weeks after his father was sent to Azkaban, but not before he’d already had to endure countless visits from Death Eaters to the Manor.

That year, instead of everyone staying at the Burrow over the summer, everyone descends on Grimmauld so Harry can spend more time with his Godfather. But due to the number of adults coming and going for order business, all the kids have to share rooms. Ron’s more than happy to share a room with Harry, but it’s decided Draco should also room with them so someone can keep an eye on him. Obviously, the boys are not best pleased, and both Harry and Ron yell about how unfair it is. But slowly, even though Draco’s still an annoying shit, Harry can’t help but notice how Draco shakes in his sleep, and flinches at loud noises. How he doesn’t actually try to barge in on conversation or make things about him, but actually does the exact opposite. And how, just sometimes, when Sirius has an arm around Harry’s shoulders, and they’re laughing together and actually feeling like a family, something makes the hairs on the back of Harry’s hair stand up, and when he turns, more often than not, Draco’s retreating into the shadows.

Harry doesn’t really know what to do with these observations at first, and every time Draco’s name is so much as mentioned, Ron still tuts in disgust, so he keeps it to himself. But one night, he and Sirius spend hours just chatting by the fire, sharing stories about his parents and eating chocolate frogs while the rest of the house sleeps. By the time Sirius finally decides it’s time for bed, even though there’s still a massive hole missing where his parents should have been, Harry’s feeling more complete than he ever has been, and there’s a small but permanent smile on his face. As he approaches the stairs, he hears something like someone scurrying into a bedroom, but Grimmauld is so old, and they’ve been up so late, it’s highly unlikely anyone was up, so he dismisses it as the house playing tricks on him. But when he creeps into his room, it’s obvious Draco’s still awake and upset.

Suddenly, Harry realises how much Draco must miss his family, how painful it must be to watch him build a relationship with his Godfather whilst Lucius rots in Azkaban and his mother endures living with Voldemort. And Harry finds himself going and sitting on his bed.

Draco snaps at him, in true enemy style, but for once Harry doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he murmurs: “I’m sorry you miss them.”

For a moment, Draco looks like he’s going to punch him, and Harry braces himself. But then he just crumples, and Harry finds himself tugging him closer.

“It’s just not fair,” Draco cries, fingers curling into Harry’s top.

“I know.” Harry tucks Draco’s head under his chin, as his heart grows heavier and heavier. “I know.”

Send me a prompt and I'll write a hc/mini plot for you :D

#drarry #aprilwrites #my writing #2000 followers #asked and answered

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 3 years

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Ok, so I might as well post the first part now since I already have it. Fun fact, it's four pages in a google docs. I'll give you the second part as soon as I'm done writing it.

Tommy glanced at Cedric questioningly. The older teen just waved him on, leaving the trophy open. Tommy shot another glance at Harry, eyebrow raised. “We’re all champions,” the dark haired teen said. “Besides, you and I never put our names in the Goblet. I don’t see the harm in letting him take the cup.” “No, no,” Cedric said with a small shake of his head. “You two have won basically every challenge so far. You deserve the trophy more than I do.” “Together then,” Tommy said, shifting Harry’s weight and reaching his hand out to Cedric. “After all, we are all Hogwarts champions.” After a moment of hesitation, Cedric accepted the hand, and together the three of them limped towards the Triwizard Cup.

Once they reached it, a glance passed between the three of them, and slowly, they reached out for the Cup. As soon as they did, Tommy felt a sharp tug in his belly button and he was yanked forward. He felt his hand slipping from Harry’s, and he held on tighter. Faintly, he thought he heard Cedric’s voice calling them. Then just as suddenly as it had stopped, the dizzying tug stopped, and dumped Cedric, Harry, and Tommy into a damp field of grass.

It took Tommy a moment to regain his bearing. He was still disoriented, but he saw a small hill rising to his left, dotted with tall, rounded stones. It took him a moment to realize they were graves. He was in a cemetery. His brow furrowed. “Where the hell are we?” he asked, helping Harry to his feet. “I dunno,” Cedric said confusedly. The teen was disoriented, but he seemed to have more of his wits about him than Harry did. “I think someone turned the Cup into a portkey.” “Well, obviously,” Tommy said, hand dipping into his inventory for his sword. “Still doesn’t tell us where we are though.” Suddenly, a small, snake-like voice croaked out, “Kill the spare.”

“Avada Kedavra!” A bolt of sickly green light shot out from behind the graves. It hit Cedric square in the chest before Tommy had even so much as a chance to cry out a warning. The older teen dropped to the ground silently, a tangle of robes and limbs. Harry checked him over, but Tommy could tell by the paleness of his skin that he was already dead.

He drew his sword, but before he could find his enemy, a bolt of red light hit him, and he dropped his blade. Tommy fell to the ground frozen, and after a moment, Harry fell beside him. “Very good, Wormtail,” the same snake-like voice said. “Now, as we discussed.” Tommy heard footsteps, and then there was a small hand twisting into the back of his robes, nails digging into his skin. There was a soft grunt, and then his captor was dragging him across the damp grass. “Tommy,” Harry whispered, scared. “What do we do?”

Tommy’s mind was whirling, but he was frozen. He was frozen in place and at the mercy of Wormtail. There was nothing he could do. Not yet, at least. Suddenly, he was slammed up against something hard and rough. A small shockwave rang through his skull and dirty hands yanked his arms behind him. Coarse rope wrapped around his wrists. The stupify hex he had been hit with was wearing off by now, but he was already trapped. There was nothing he could do. He heard Harry hit the grave next to him with a small thud, and after a moment, he too, was helpless.

Wormtail yanked the teens’ wands from their robes and stuffed them into his pocket. For the first time, Tommy managed to get a good look at where he was. He was at the top of the hill. A mausoleum rose in front of him, a cauldron sitting at the base of the steps, a small bundle fo black cloth at the foot. Wormtail aimed his wand at the base of the cauldron, and flames erupted under its base. Sparks danced across the surface of the water, illuminating the grave in a ghostly white light.

Wormtail bent down and undid the bundle of cloth, lifting a small creature into the air. It was grotesque and only vaguely human shaped. It was the same size as a newborn child, but there was nothing innocent about it. Wormtail raised the thing above the cauldron and gently lowered it into the water. Tommy saw Harry murmuring a prayer under his breath. “Please let it have drowned. Please.” Tommy knew they weren’t that lucky though. He still whispered the prayer anyways.

Wormtail raised his wand slightly and began to recite a spell. “Bone of the father.” The ground at Harry’s feet cracked and greyish white dust floated up. “Unknowingly given.” Tommy craned his neck to see that Harry’s grave read “Tom Riddle.”

“Flesh of the servant,” Wormtail continued, voice beginning to shake. “W-willingly given.” From the fold of his robes, he drew a knife. The metal gleamed in the moonlight, and too late, Tommy realized what he was going to do. He turned away as Wormtail brought the knife down on his arm, and tried to ignore the sounds of metal cutting through muscle, skin, and bone.

Wormtail let out a single whimper of pain, but then he forced himself to his feet and lurched towards Tommy and Harry. The two teens scrambled back, but they had nowhere to go. Tommy’s eyes darted around the graveyard, looking for a solution, but Wormtail was too close. He raised his knife above his head, and Tommy braced for the blow. Instead, the point of the weapon dug into the skin of Harry’s forearm.

A jagged cut stretched from the boy’s elbow to halfway down his forearm, and Wormtail’s knife gleamed red. “Blood of the enemy, unwillingly given.” Wormtail’s voice shook with pain, but he held his knife steady as a drop of blood splashed into the cauldron. “You will resurrect your foe.”

The light of the cauldron suddenly turned to a dark, crimson red and sparks danced along the surface of the water. Wormtail dropped to the ground in a heap, clutching his arm to his chest. Tommy watched as the spell performed it’s magic, hardly daring to breathe.

Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the sparks were gone. White light filled the sky, turning night into day, and thick fog filled the air. From in the cauldron rose a slim figure, everything about it radiating wrongness. Everything in Tommy was screaming to run, but he was trapped. The figure spread its arms and said, “Wormtail.” It was the same snake-like voice as earlier. Wormtail whimpered, but he stumbled to his feet anyways. “Robe me,” the figure commanded. Wormtail grabbed the bundle of cloth and awkwardly slipped it over his master’s shoulder’s. The figure turned around and Tommy finally got a good look at his face.

It was flat, the eyes barely more than slits, nose flat and grotesque. He was pale, paler even than Cedric had been in death. He wasn’t supposed to be here. “Harry,” Tommy whispered, a note of fear beginning to creep into his voice. “Who is that?” “It’s him. He’s back. Lord Voldemort.”

Voldemort slithered over to Wormtail, who was now kneeling on the ground, sleeve of his robes covered in blood. The Dark Lord rested his hand gently on Wormtail’s head, and the man glanced up, pleading in his eyes. “Please, my lord. You-you promised.” “You’re arm, Wormtail,” Voldemort commanded. Wormtail began to extend his injured arm, but at his master’s sharp glance, he bared his other one.

Slowly, the Dark Lord reached for a dark mark that rested in the crook of his servant’s arm. As soon as he touched it, Wormtail doubled over in pain, and Harry cried out scar burning. “That should summon them,” Voldemort said. Then, he smiled. He turned and crept towards Harry and Tommy. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the boy who lived,” he greeted, cupping Harry’s chin in the palm of his hand. The teen’s breathing was shallow, face tight with pain. “How ironic that you’ll die tonight.” There was silence for a moment, but then he turned his attention to Tommy. “Ah, and the fiery friend.” Tommy’s jaw clenched in defiance, but his heart was hammering in his chest.

“Why are we here?” he spat, struggling against his bindings. He had an axe in his inventory, but it would do him no good if he was still trapped.

Voldemort shook his head as if he was explaining something to a child. It irritated Tommy. “Well, you see, I needed the famous Harry Potter here for the ritual. And now that he’s served his purpose, It’ll be my pleasure to finally finish what I started the night I killed his parents.”

Harry still looked terrified, but Tommy could see the hint of anger that crept into his eyes at the mention of his parents. “And I needed you,” Voldemort continued, digging his fingers into Tommy’s hair, and forcing the teen to meet his eyes. “Because a very special ally of mine requested your presence here tonight.” “W-what ally?” Tommy hated the fear in his voice. Voldemort laughed softly under his breath. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll understand in no time. After all, he seems quite certain the two of you know each other.”

Suddenly, a loud crack filled the air, and Tommy glanced up to see that a figure in dark robes and white skull-like mask had appeared in front of the mausoleum. “Ah,” Voldemort said, standing to greet the newcomer. “You’ve finally arrived.” More cracks filled the air, and a few seconds later, a total of fourteen death eaters stood in the clearing.

Voldemort examined them and no one dared utter a word. Then he rattled off a list of names that Tommy didn’t recognize as he surveyed his servants. He paused on one at the end of the line. “Lucius,” he greeted. “Wonderful that you could join us tonight.” The Death Eater shuffled awkwardly, but didn’t say anything. So Malfoy’s dad really was a Death Eater. Tommy couldn’t help but feel sorry for the kid.

Voldemort’s gaze drifted towards the Death Eater at the back. They were different from the others; their cloak was bulkier and their mask sent a shiver of fear down Tommy’s spine. “So you came yourself,” Voldemort said, a hint of surprise to his voice. The Death Eater simply nodded. “So,” the Dark Lord said, now addressing the whole group. “You are my most loyal followers. How disappointing. Of course, there are those who are still trapped in Azkaban. And we mustn't forget our two fellows trapped at Hogwarts. But so few of you heeded my call. I must say, I was expecting more.” No one said anything.

After a moment, Voldemort said, “I have called you here today, not only to see that your master has been resurrected, but also so that you may finally see me triumph over the great Harry Potter.” An excited murmur ran through the group. “Wormtail,” Voldemort commanded. “Free the boy. Return his wand. It would be best to kill him in a duel. Prove once and for all that I am stronger than a pathetic teenager.”

Wormtail did as he was told, freeing Harry from his bindings, and shoving the boy’s wand roughly into his hand. Harry was clearly still disoriented, and Tommy wouldn’t be surprised if the teen’s scar was brutally painful. He was shaking, injured leg barely supporting his weight, but Harry looked every inch a match for Voldemort. He stepped towards his adversary, and the Death Eaters closed around the two, blocking them from sight. There was silence for a moment, but then two voices shouted “Avada Kedavra!”

Tommy’s fingers worked at the knots frantically, desperately trying to free himself. If only he could get his axe, he could help Harry. Finally, he felt the rope fall away and loosen. But before he could draw his weapon, the strange Death Eater stalked towards him, sword drawn. Tommy leapt to his feet, yanking his axe out of his inventory, and barely raising it in time to block the blow.

The metal of the Death Eater’s blade dug into the hilt of his axe, splintering the wood. Tommy twisted his own weapon, disentangling himself from the Death Eater’s blade. He stumbled back, dodging the Death Eater's thrust at his abdomen. He caught the edge of the sword on the crook of his axe, and twisted it upwards, knocking the sword from his opponent's grasp. He slammed the hilt of his axe into the Death Eater’s head, and the wizard stumbled back with a grunt.

Now the other Death Eater’s began taking notice and drew their wands. Before Tommy could do anything though, the air filled with phoenix song, and everyone turned to see a net of golden light surrounding Harry and Voldemort as they rose into the air.

Tommy took advantage of the distraction to make his way over to Wormtail, Quickly he searched the man’s robes for his wand, and sighed in relief once he found it. Unfortunately, the Death Eater’s had recovered from their shock, and stunning spells were flying past Tommy.

He dove to the ground as curses flew over him, firing back at as many targets as he could. At least three of his spells hit, and the volley of curses lessened just enough that Tommy was able to scramble to his feet.

He fired spells blindly as he sprinted down the hill, trying to reach the sword he had dropped. A jelly-legs jinx curse hit, and suddenly, he was tumbling head over heels down the hillside. He crashed into a gravestone, knocking it askew. Quickly, he cast the counter curse and scrambled to his feet. He braced himself for more spells, but none came. He turned his attention towards the top of the hill.

The phoenix sound had grown louder, and the light from Harry and Voldemort’s wand was blindingly bright. The two weapons were connected with a beam of golden light, and figures surrounded Harry, protecting him. Tommy couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw Cedric among them. Suddenly, the net dissolved, and Harry dropped to the ground. “Harry!” Tommy cried out, worried.

Suddenly, the dark-haired teen came sprinting out from the mass of Death Eaters, green Avada Kedavra spells just barely missing him. “Harry!” Tommy called again, waving to him. Harry dove to the ground, rolling down the hill, trying to dodge the killing spells. Tommy scooped up his sword, and dropped his axe into his inventory. Behind him, the Triwizard cup began to glow blue. “Tommy!” Harry yelled frantically, skidding to a stop at his friend's side. “We need to get out of here!”

Tommy nodded, and pointed to the portkey. “It’ll take us home. But we need to go. Now.” Harry nodded. He grabbed the portkey, other hand resting on Cedric’s back. At the very least, the boy deserved to be brought back to his family. Tommy grabbed the other handle of the Cup, and suddenly, he was yanked forward. It was only then did he realize that the strange Death Eater’s robes were green. Green robes and a white mask.

-Gemstone Anon.

Oh my god. Okay. This is beautiful. I have read this like 10 times now. Oh my god. This is- This is brilliant.

#dream smp #dream smp au #gremlins in hogwarts au #harry potter #tommyinnit #ask #long post #gemstone anon #fanfic #drabble #i don't know if it drabble or fanfic #so here we go #this is amazing

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dorcxsmdws · 3 years

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@fxprewettx

"Heard my brother and Carrow got one of the Prewett twins last night.”

She hated this assignment. She hated every moment she had to associate with these disgusting, brainless psychopaths. But she was good at it. She was good at finding an opening, at integrating herself into their circles. At gaining trust and influence with all the wrong sorts of people. She was good at it, and she despised that she was. But it was a necessary evil, having a spy behind enemy lines. She had to step back and look at it logically and understand that every piece of collateral damage, every person she was forced to hurt, every morally bankrupt action she took, was all a part of the greater good. Did the ends justify the means? She had to believe that they did. She was gaining their trust, and the more trust she gained the more people she could save in the end.

The greatest hinderance had been her blood status, but even that was quickly minimized once she pried the door open far enough to show them her talent. Magic came easily to her, so when she was competing against men like William Mulciber and Rabastan Lestrange, who looked at the war as a sort of dick measuring contest , it became easy to sweep her lack of purity under the rug. Equally, that talent allowed her to create a false sense of comradery with some of the others near her age. It was how she found herself at Rabastan Lestrange’s flat, helping him work through a plan for an assignment. It was quite an easy task. It should have been idiot-proof, but perhaps even that was too high a bar for Rabastan.

The quill had been pressed to her lips as she worked through exactly how to imply he was an idiot without saying those words exactly when she comprehended what he had said. She was well versed in stoicism, even when her friends were being discussed by the worst of humanity; she had learned to keep a straight face while listening in on plans that required an urgent warning. She knew how to do her job, and she knew how to do it well. It was the only reason she was still alive.

But for the first time she nearly blew her cover.

"Yeah?” Her voice was steady, but her back was to him. He couldn’t see the wave of emotions hit her. She had always been quiet. It wasn’t insecurity, as so many had assumed. She wasn’t an insecure person. Rather, she simply preferred to watch and observe, to form an opinion before allowing herself to step forward into an unfamiliar situation. It was just that not many bothered to wait until she was ready. The Prewetts had though. They had waited, and they had never left. “Did you hear which one?”

She had no siblings, not by blood anyway. But from the moment Gideon had held her broom steady when the pair of them caught her down practicing on the pitch after hours, from the moment Fabian tossed walnuts at her so she could practice her dives, from the moment they had cheered the loudest when she made the team, when she caught her first snitch, despite being in different houses, she knew what it meant to have brothers. People she could count on to support her, and in equal measure, there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for them.

The war was heating up. It had been weeks since she had been able to safely get away. If Rabastan was right, if one of them was truly gone, the fact that she hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye had easily become her greatest regret. Who had she lost? Who had the world lost? Gideon with his easy laugh and kind nature? Fabian with his compassion and his love of dragons? Which had been taken, and which was going to have to find a way to survive without their other half? God, she needed to go.

“Dunno. Don’t suppose it matters. They’ll find the other soon enough. It’s a good thing, if you ask me. A dead blood traitor is the best sort.”

She just nodded. “Can I see your wand for a moment?” Her voice was as even as it always was, but she could feel something dangerous building inside of her at the cavalier nature of his words. “I’m thinking this will work best if you get a Muggle suit jacket. Not a full tuxedo coat, that will be too much. But a nice blazer in whatever color will blend the most. I can pick one up for you, but I want to be sure I add enough room for you to holster your wand up the sleeve.” She gestured down to her paper where she was prepared to mark the size of his wand. “You could tell me, but I don’t know what nine inches looks like. I need a visual.”

Rabastan, the idiot, Lestrange passed her his wand without looking at her, his eyes still on the toy quaffle he was tossing into the air. It was for that reason he didn’t notice as she pulled her sleeve over her hand to cover her finger prints. The jet of green light, from his own wand, struck him in the chest and he never saw it coming. She watched as his arms fell against the bed like a marionette whose strings were cut, his vacant eyes staring at his bedroom ceiling. Never allowing his wand to touch her bare fingers she carefully rolled it under the bed, watching it get lost in a jungle of dust bunnies and crumpled candy wrappers. She pulled out her own wand, making quick work of the room, vanishing any sign that he wasn’t alone that night. Before she left she walked to him, the only guilt was over the lack of guilt she felt for taking a life. Using her sleeve again, she gently closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side. She used her wand to slide the blanket out from under him and over his stocky frame. With any luck it would take them some time to even realize he was dead. She walked out onto the balcony and twisted, disappearing from the Lestrange manor like she had never been there at all.

----

It was not a good idea. She didn’t think she was being followed. If she was someone surely would have retaliated after she killed Rabastan Lestrange. But it still wasn’t safe. For more her own sake than anyone else’s, but the risk for her Order friends wasn’t nothing. She’d stopped caring about what happened to her a long time ago, but it was grossly unfair of her to put anyone else at risk. But this? This was more important than her safety, and she felt very sure that anyone who threatened her or the people she cared about this moment would be easily dealt with. She was angry, she felt like she was teetering on the edge, uncaring what was right and wrong in this moment. Two wrongs didn’t make a right, but killing a Death Eater surely would save someone grief somewhere down the line. She was more than willing to compromise her own soul for that benefit in this moment..

She knew she’d be able to get into their flat. A better question was whether she was wanted. Was quiet grief more important than support? She thought about it for only a moment before she decided that she didn’t care. She opened her mouth to call out down the hallway, but she closed it as soon as she realized she didn’t know who to call out to? Her heart ached far more for the brother who had lost his twin than for her own grief, although there would be time to manage that later. The floor board creaked as she stepped into the hall, her wand held loosely in her hand. She was prepared to disarm if needed.

First she poked her head into Fabian’s room. She could feel the fear creeping in as she found it empty, but she didn’t want to make assumptions. Not until she knew. She turned, stepping deeper into the flat -- and that’s when she heard the rustling. Her fingers tightened around her wand as she pushed the door open. Her eyes closed as she saw the figure on the bed, immediately recognize Fabian; relief and grief fighting for dominance in her. One of them was okay. Fabian was -- he was alive, but Gideon...

Hesitantly stepping forward she sat next to him on the bed. This was not her first brush with death. This was not the first time she had lost someone she cared about, not the first time she was at a loss for words. But this was the first time she desperately reached for the right ones. This was the first time she wanted to get it right, to say the right thing. She wanted to take on some of his pain, even though she knew it to be impossible. So instead she just sat there, reaching for his hand after a long moment of silence.

#tw murder #i had the time of my life fighting dragons with you | fabian

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ourloveisforthelovely · 3 years

Text

Princess Part 10

Harry Potter Marauders Era AU

Link to Part 9

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M

_____

“Considering we have been preparing for you to die...I think we deserve five minutes of explanation. You have scared Y/n and your mother to death. I suggest you start talking…”

Regulus frowned at his father’s comment. Orion was right. You did deserve the truth. Regulus knew later he would feel guilty for not caring about his mother knowing the truth or Orion for that matter. His only worry was you. You sat at his side gently stroking his now healed hand.

“Fine, shut the door.”

Regulus replied as James reached out and shut the door with his foot. As much as Regulus didn’t want anything to do with James nor Sirius, they did save his life. Maybe it was time to put some bitter feelings on the back burner for the moment.

“Voldemort is worse than we all feared. He’s insane and we need to stop sympathizing with him. James and Sirius just keep doing whatever it is that you do. That part was directed toward you but...mum and dad...we were so wrong. This guy almost killed Kreacher....yes, that pissed me off but it wasn’t the reason that I…did what I did. Voldemort is out there creating horcruxes...I found one...a locket. I just need to figure out how to destroy it.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped.

“So that explains what you were muttering about. How do we destroy it?”

Regulus shrugged.

“Beats the hell out of me. Kreacher has it right now.”

Sirius frowned.

“You left something that important to Kreacher? The same Kreacher that we grew up with?”

You winced when Regulus’ hand tightened around yours.

“Well, it was either that or it went to the bottom of the lake with me while I was busy being drowned by Inferi. Which would you have preferred?”

Regulus ignored how both Walburga and Orion went completely pale at the mention of “being drowned.” Sirius, meanwhile, was still trying to take in what he was hearing.

“So inferi tried to turn you into a human pretzel?

Regulus was beginning to get annoyed with Sirius. He didn’t like being interrupted as it was now here was Sirius asking questions that would have been answered anyway.

“Yes, Sirius...please keep up. Like I was about to say, Voldemort won’t just leave the prized pieces of his soul just lying around. He will make whoever it is work for what they are getting. Between having to slice my hand open to get into this place, drinking some god fucking awful potion, and almost getting drowned...I had to give the locket to Kreacher. He is probably at home having a panic attack because the last thing that he saw was me going under. Mum, can you send a telegram home and let him know that everything is alright?”

Walburga was fanning herself. None of this was anything that she expected to hear. She had expected to hear some story of Regulus going up against another death eater. Now knowing how close she actually was to losing her baby, everything was beginning to feel fuzzy.

“I don’t think mum is available right now.”

Sirius commented. Orion nodded and gently patted his wife’s shoulder. He wasn't sure what really to do to comfort her when he was trying to control his own pounding heart. Between questioning, if what Regulus was saying was true and the realization that he almost died...Orion didn’t know how to feel.

I knew that I should have never supported letting him get into that.

Orion thought before finally speaking.

“Son, Kreacher is just fine. I told him where we were going before we left.”

Regulus nodded before turning his attention back to you. Your hand was over your mouth as the tears were streaming down your face.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. That’s why I was so short-tempered before we broke up...I was…”

You shook your head. None of this was anything that you wanted to hear. Deep down you knew that there was a reason Regulus had been so grumpy. Regulus losing his temper when you begged Sirius for help all made sense now.

“You’re fine now...that’s what matters.”

Regulus laughed.

“I don’t know about fine. When Voldemort finds out that I figured out his secret, he isn’t going to be thrilled.”

“Sounds like you need to go into hiding a bit.”

James commented. Regulus hated the thought of being trapped in a house but, for once, Potter was probably right on this one. He definitely needed to lay low once Voldemort came back from trying to gather new recruits in Bulgaria.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Regulus commented as Walburga jumped up.

“There is no maybe to it, Regulus! You will go into hiding whether you want to or not.”

Regulus didn’t feel like arguing with his mother at the moment and only nodded. In fact, the only thing that he really wanted to do was to go back to sleep and sleep for a long time. He had to shake the urge to go back to sleep before turning his attention back to you.

When Orion stood and commented that the two of you needed some privacy, you could have been more thankful. The two of you had a lot to talk about and the last thing that either of you wanted was to have this conversation with an audience.

Regulus waited until everyone was out of the room before relaxing back into the pillow. He finally felt like he could relax.

“Do you hurt badly?”

You asked before reaching out and stroking your fingers through his hair. Regulus didn’t open his eyes but was clearly pleased by the physical contact.

“A little. I didn’t want you finding out what happened like that.”

You sat down on the side of the bed and took his hand in yours. It didn’t matter how you found out, you would have been devastated. Knowing how close you were to losing Regulus made everything within you ache. Seeing him banged up was bad enough but knowing that you almost lost him forever...you couldn’t put that thought into words.

“It would be horrible no matter how I found out.”

Regulus’ eyes fluttered open.

“I’m sorry about the past few months. I never meant for any of it to go the way it did. I was a jerk to you and you didn’t deserve it! You were trying to keep me safe...I’m not mad at you for going to Sirius. I guess part of me was jealous.”

“Darling, you don’t have to worry about my feelings toward Sirius. He’s obsessed with Remus and I can’t nor do I have the desire to compete with that.”

Regulus smirked for a moment, however, his face went back to the “sad lost boy” expression that always made your heartache. His face looked as it did the night that Sirius left.

“I always knew that there was something going on there. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about them. I want to talk about us. I love you, Y/n and I want to be with you because you're good for me. The past few months without you...I don’t want to go back to that place. If you want your ring back...I’ll never take it off of your hand again.”

Regulus wrapped his hand around yours and brought it to his mouth. He closed his eyes and inhaled your scent. Regulus wasn’t about to tell you the childish mess that he had been without you. Maybe you should know that he either drank himself to sleep or cried like a baby every night to mourn your loss. Regulus had refused to get out of bed for a few days and had taken to laying with his face shoved into your pillow just to smell your lavender shampoo.

“I love you too, Regulus. You’re right. I was just trying to keep you safe. I didn’t want to see you harmed. Now knowing that you almost died and seeing what you have gone through, I regret ever saying that I was okay with you being a death eater. I’m proud of you for what you have done though. You were so brave, love.”

“It was more desperation than bravery. I also got pissy because that twat hurt my elf.”

You smiled.

“You should rest, darling.”

Regulus didn’t move to let you go.

“Lay with me. I’ll sleep better feeling you against me.”

Regulus scowled at you when you didn’t move fast enough. You, meanwhile, looked down at him with apprehension.

“You won’t hurt me. Just lay on my right side and put your head on my chest. Please.”

You couldn’t say no to those eyes. As gently as possible, you eased yourself against Regulus’ body. Regulus yawned and snuggled his face against your hair.

“See. I’m not hurting now, Princess.”

You smiled against his chest as Regulus slowly began to doze back off leaving you awake.

Everything will be okay this time…

It took another week before the healers would consider letting Regulus go home. You were relieved when the healer finally said that he could go home. Regulus has been getting frustrated with not being able to leave even though he felt fine (so what if he was still walking with a limp). He wanted out of the hospital to heal at home.

Regulus had talked you into agreeing to move back into him. You knew that James wasn’t thrilled with the idea. He had tried to persuade you to “take things slow” with Regulus.

“Y/n, please. You really should take this slow. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I know, James. Regulus needs me though. I want to take care of him.”

Regulus, meanwhile, was thrilled upon hearing that you didn’t do what James wanted but what he wanted instead. It just proved to Regulus that you were loyal to him and that was what he wanted.

The following two weeks were a little more difficult than you expected. Regulus wasn’t thrilled that you didn’t want to give up your job working for Barty Crouch Sr. The day that you were scheduled to return to work, Regulus sat on the bed watching you with a scowl.

“Why do you want to work for that crazy old man? We have plenty enough money for you not to work.”

“Because I actually enjoy my job.”

Regulus crossed his arms over his chest with an impatient frown.

“I don’t like him. He locked up his own son.”

You sighed as you finished putting on your lipstick.

“He kind of had to, love.”

“He’s a creep.”

Regulus muttered before standing and limping toward the door. You quickly walked after him as Regulus sat down on the couch to start reading a book.

“Reggie, please. This job has really taught me a lot. I’m not some spoiled selfish princess who only cared about herself anymore.”

Regulus looked up. He felt guilty about his less than stellar actions. While Regulus was trying to “see things differently” now old habits die hard deaths. He was thankful that you had been beyond patient with him as he would fuss about the order then turn around and say that they were doing the right thing.

“You have never been selfish. Love, you are the least selfish person on this stupid planet. I just worry...I’m also getting frustrated with sitting here day after day. It may be a good thing that you are there. It gets more information that my brother can use. I don’t want anything happening to him.”

You gave Regulus a pleased smile.

“I know, darling. Maybe you should spend some time with Sirius. He would love to see you. I also need to have coffee with Remus. Since I won’t be getting a sister-in-law, Remus gets to do all of that ceremonial activities.”

Regulus smirked.

“I’m sure Remus is looking forward to listening to stories of our sex life.”

You pulled on your coat before moving to kiss Regulus goodbye.

“I return the favor so he doesn’t mind.”

It took all that you had not to laugh at the grossed-out expression on Regulus’ face.

“Gross. I don’t want to think about my brother getting laid. Have a good day. Maybe when you get home, we can work on some new stories to tell Remus.”

Regulus had been ready to rip your clothes off the day that he had come home but you told him no. It didn’t matter how many times that you told him no “for his health” Regulus tried to guilt-trip you into it.

“We’ll see how it goes.”

You had been gone for half an hour when there was a knock at the door. Regulus tossed his book to the couch before getting up and going to answer the door. Emma Rosier stood on the other side with a smile on her face. Regulus hadn’t seen Emma since Evan’s funeral. Other than writing her a few times to make sure that she was okay, Regulus had no urge to speak to her. Sending her a few “hey, are you still alive” letters was more out of due to respect for Evan than anything else.

“Emma.”

Emma smiled.

“Hey, I heard you were out of the hospital. What happened to you?”

Regulus didn’t answer immediately. The last thing that he was about to tell her was the truth.

“Stupid accident where I came off looking bad. You can come in, I have something of Evan’s for you anyway.”

Emma smiled and slid past Regulus. She turned as he closed the door and limped back to the couch.

“I haven’t seen you this banged up since that quidditch game in 5th year. Too bad, Y/n isn’t here to baby you...or is she? I heard that Y/n has moved back in and you two are fixing your little relationship.”

Regulus’ eyes carefully rolled up to meet Emma’s face. He had a feeling as to where this conversation was going to go.

“Mhm.”

Emma’s soured a bit.

“I don’t know how you trust her. She turned her back on you to aid your brother and his lot. Now she’s working for the man who put our friend...his own son in prison.”

Regulus felt the annoyance beginning to build in his stomach. He didn’t care for Emma in the first place and was only nice to her for Evan. Now he didn’t have to fool with her anymore or be nice to her for that matter.

There was also the fact that Emma would be so cold toward you. For someone who claimed to “be your best friend” she sure wasn’t acting like it.

“That’s the thing about people in our stories Emma. They are in prison or dead. Y/n was trying to protect me. I trust her.”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest before easing her shirt down a little lower to show more of her cleavage. She was pleased when Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. He didn’t look thrilled but his eyes were on her and that was what she wanted.

“You shouldn’t. Real soul mates don’t do their lovers the way that she has done you. Say goodbye to her Reggie and be the smart man that you are. Find a woman who will support you...someone like me who knows the pureblood ways.”

______

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Young Hearts Divided (11/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader/ James Potter x Female!Reader

Warnings: grief, mild arguing, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Part Summary: While Y/N is struggling to cope with the news of her brother, Sirius is lost as to how to help

Masterlist

Sirius

I hear the others approaching to join Remus and I by the Black Lake. Y/N hasn’t moved from that spot under the young oak for sometime now. I was worried before she sat down, now I’m afraid. I’ve never seen Y/N this way. Usually she never stops talking- and I love that about her- but she hasn’t said a word in hours. I feel terrible because there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve never felt so helpless. Even when I’m home with my parents I can control the situation to an extent, but not here, not now.

Out of the corner of my eye, Lily settles down beside me. Then, there’s a pat on my shoulder, then a comforting grip. James.

“How long has she been like that?” Lily glances between me and Remus.

All I can seem to do is watch Y/N, make sure she’s alright. For some reason, I’m afraid she may disappear. If I glance away, even for a moment, she’ll be gone.

“A while,” Remus mutters with a rare gloominess in his tone.

“How long is a while?” James inquires.

“Hours,” Remus shrugs, sounding uncertain of the the exact time.

“All day,” I correct sharply, finally breaking my silence.

They must know the severity of this. They need to understand how much this is affecting Y/N.

Lily shifts closer to me, eager to learn more. “Has she eaten anything? Had a sip of something?”

“No.” My answer is plain, short, and to the point, exactly how we should be acting in order to fix her.

Lily sighs, Well we should-”

“What do you suggest Lily?!” I snap, finally looking away from Y/N to address her. “If you have any bright ideas by all means share it with the rest of the class! We’ve tried everything and no matter what we do nothing works!”

Lily cowers, struck hard by my uncharacteristically harsh remarks.

“Sirius...” James states my name disapprovingly yet calmly with understanding as a best friend should.

He is right though... I shouldn’t have snapped. None of this is Lily’s fault, nothing is ever really Lily’s fault.

“Alright, I’m sorry!” I rush out. “I just... I don’t know how to help her! I don’t know how and... and she...”

I find myself struggling to find the right words. I want to help Y/N, but I don’t know how.

“It’ll be alright,” Lily assures, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

She offers me a kind smile, one I’m all too familiar with. How can she say that when there’s nothing we can do?

“Are you sure of that? Really?” I question baffled. “Because I have no clue how this will turn out. I don’t know how she’ll recover from this. If what McGonagall said is true, Y/N and her family, they... What would you do Lil? How would you feel if you found out your parents or sister have betrayed you?”

“None of us understand like you do, Sirius,” she points out a reality I hadn’t considered.

“Me?” I frown in confusion.

“Your family, Narcissa, Belatrix, your parents, Regulus,” Lily begins to explain. “They may not be Death Eaters, but they see sense in You-Know-Who, right? You understand Y/N’s situation better than anyone. You don’t know what to do? All you can do is be there for her. Talk to her. When you have nothing say, simply sit with her. All you can do is be present, care, and listen when given the chance.”

“She’s right,” James adds in agreement.

“Sometimes the best you can do is be there,” Remus determines.

I take a moment, processing what my friends have advised me to do. Despite their wisdom, I’m still hesitant. They carry a lot of faith in me. Lily is right, my cousins, brother, entire family haven’t exactly be withholding of their true feelings when it comes to Muggles. In fact, they might as well just declare themselves Death Eaters in order to cease the confusion. Everybody already accuses them of being ones.

Taking a deep breath, I rise from my position on the grass and brush down my uniform. Y/N remains still, watching the ripples of the lake as she has all day. I wonder what’s going through her mind. Oh what I would give to hear her speak to me. It could be about anything, something as small as a homework assignment. I just want to hear her voice.

Cautiously, I begin to approach her at a steady pace. I don’t wish to frighten her, but I also don’t want to creep up on her. Perhaps, if I walk normally and act normal, that would make her feel better. I’m certain she hears me coming despite her lack of reaction. It doesn’t help that I feel the others’ eyes on me. They’re all waiting to see what happens.

Maintaining my composure, I steadily ease myself down onto the grass beside her. Her sight remains ahead, somewhere along the horizon. Her eyes are narrow into slits from the bright sun on the ripples of the water. I turn my head toward her to catch a better glimpse of her face and she still doesn’t react. Her lips remain in a soft frown and her features gloomy. I swallow hard, bringing my attention back to the horizon. I don’t what do. How do I help her? How do I take the pain away?

Unexpectedly, Y/N’s hand glides over my fists gently and gives them a slight squeeze. Bewildered, I snap my head in her direction. Unfazed, she slowly rests her head on my shoulder. Afraid that the slightest movement will cause her to cower, I remain still. She scoots closer to me and slips her arm through mine, clinging to me. Hesitantly, I plant a kiss to her forehead. I’ve missed her presence. Her closeness to me.

Resting my chin on top of her head, I stare off into the distance as a though crosses my mind. Then, the thought simply leaves me. “I know this doesn’t help, but I love you...”

My voice is so faint I nearly lose it in the slight breeze brushing through the valley. There’s a prolonged pause and I debate within myself whether she missed it or I made the situation worse. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear that. Maybe I messed up.

“It does help,” she whispers as her fingers tighten around my bicep.

And finally, I can breathe again. At least for now, I’m not losing her.

__________________________________________

Later that night...

Y/N

Late following a stroll about the castle after dinner, Sirius and I return to the Common Room. It’s empty as the others have gone to bed. I won’t lie and say I’m not a tad relieved everyone’s to bed. I’m not sure I could handle everyone’s starring. At dinner, everyone tried their best to act like everything is normal, but even Lily couldn’t fake a smile.

Sirius and I lay on the couch facing each other. The faint cracking of the fire fills the silence. A nice thick wool blanket keeps us warm and I find myself more at ease than I’ve been the last few days. He brings his warm hand to my cheek and brushes his thumb across it. My eyes fall shut at the sensation. Sirius, a blanket, a fire, a couch, and silence is like heaven to me. It’s my safe haven.

“I think I should go see my brother,” I mumble.

I already know what Sirius is going to say. Right on cue, his features change to express hostility. The peace moment already becoming a distant memory.

“Go-” he inhales sharply. “Go see your brother? Seriously, Y/N?! Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be?!”

“Come with me then!” I plead, griping his hand in mine.

He yanks his hand from me and sits up in a jolt. “That doesn’t by many means change the level of danger!”

I sigh, leaning up to sit beside him. My arm rests across his back as I rest my chin on his shoulder. “He won’t hurt me Sirius. He wouldn’t, couldn’t.”

“He’s a Death...” he stops himself before he says it.

My head snaps up from its position on his shoulder. “He might be,” I correct him. “We can’t be sure!”

“Either way, it’s too risky!” Sirius declares as though it’s law now.

Sirius shakes his head repeatedly as he avoids my gaze. His lower lip remains bit beneath his teeth. It doesn’t take a genius to see that his mind is traveling miles a minute.

“Please Sirius...” I whisper desperately. “I have to know...”

He sighs deeply as his head falls. “You’ll go no matter what I say, right?”

“Probably,” I answer honestly.

I don’t have a choice. I have to know.

“Alrighty then,” he exhales sharply, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “We’ll do a day trip to London I guess. We’ll have to be smart about it though, to avoid suspension.”

I nod frantically, excited that he’s doing this with me. I knew it would be a long shot that he would agree to it at all. “We’ll use the tunnels and leave from the Shrieking Shack,” I suggest.

His brows scrunch together. “Wait, how do you know about the tunnels?”

“Remus showed me once,” I explain plainly. “You don’t actually think I believed your little story about the four of you hiding in the Room of Requirement during Remus’s changes?” I giggle. He would too.

He shrugs, appearing a tad offended. “I thought it was pretty convincing...”

“You couldn’t possibly contain a werewolf in there!” I laugh.

Sirius leans in a plants a quick peck to my temple. Then, he takes my face in his hands, making me stare into his eyes. “Just promise to never follow us on a full moon and to never go to the shack without me! If anything ever happened to you, I... I wouldn’t know what to do-”

Interrupting his request, I plant a kiss to his lips. At first, he’s caught off guard, unsure of what to do. Then, he leans into the action hungrily. Before we both get too caught up in the moment, I break from him and rest my forehead against his.

“Promise,” I smile.

He shares my smile and brings his lips to mine again. Only this time, it’s gentle and more like we’re sealing the promise.

“But promise me something in return,” I mumble against his lips.

He leans back to meet my eyes. A brow rises with curiosity. “What is it?”

“Promise me that you won’t do anything reckless during a full moon. Every month I’m so afraid that you’ll sacrifice hour safety to protect Remus or the others,” I confess a worrisome thought that’s been bothering me for quite some time. “I lay awake at night asking the universe to keep you safe-”

“I promise,” he blurts out without a second thought.

It brings an immense wave of relief to finally confess my worrying and for him to be so compliant.

“Y/N...” He wraps an arm around me, bringing in closer, if that’s even possible. “I would never do anything that would risk me losing you. I genuinely see us together for the rest of our lives. After we’re done here, we have the entirely world to see. I don’t want to lose a chance at that.”

I lift my hand up and brush my fingers through his long black strands. Goodness, I love him so much. It amazes me sometimes how much I love him. I’m so thankful for Sirius. I look forward to forever with him if it will be just like this moment.

____________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @hannah220506 @agirlwholovescoffee-blog @a-classic-eye@devilstradegy @blackbirddaredevil23 @tay-mariee @blackpinkdolan @findzela @emilianamason @missryerye @loonyslytherin

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

Text

[[Previously on Lone Wolves...]]

[When Carewyn and Talbott reached the Library, they were pleased to find it less crowded than usual. The only people studying were a handful of sixth and seventh-year NEWT students -- everyone else seemed to be occupied with classes.

Carewyn quickly scanned the endless rows of books.]

Carewyn: “Well, this place is pretty big. Where should we start?”

[Carewyn raised her eyebrows.]

Carewyn: “You like to read poetry?”

Talbott: “Read...and write.”

[This startled Carewyn even more. Almost reflexively, Talbott pulled back.]

Carewyn: “(delighted) Odd? Of course not! I think it’s brilliant!”

[Now it was Talbott’s turn to be surprised. The surprise actually seemed to crack open his usual wall, revealing a slightly more honest relief.]

[Carewyn covered her mouth to hold in her laughter. Even Talbott’s expression seemed to have cracked open that bit more, betraying genuine amusement too.]

Carewyn: “(smiling more wryly) I admit, I am a bit surprised, though. It’s not every day I get to meet an up-and-coming writer.”

Oh, that’s right -- the Death Eaters sent Talbott’s father death threats, because of what he was writing...

Talbott: “He used to write for the Daily Prophet.”

[A fuller, more boyish smile seemed to creep across Talbott’s face -- one brighter and more honest than Carewyn had ever seen before.]

[Carewyn felt her heart warm at the thought of a little baby Talbott excitedly seeing his poem printed in his father’s newspaper.]

Carewyn: “That’s so sweet. ...Your father must’ve been a wonderful person, Talbott.”

Talbott: “(lowly) Yeah...he was.”

[He was still smiling slightly as his eyes drifted up toward the top shelves. Carewyn’s gaze fell down to Talbott’s shoulder absently as her smile became a bit more absent, almost melancholy.]

Carewyn: “It’s so cool that you’re holding onto that piece of him -- enjoying what he enjoyed, even if he’s no longer here. I can’t imagine it’s easy sometimes...especially when the memories of those times come back...when you’re left knowing that time is long gone...”

[The memory of herself trying to sing the usual Christmas carols with Lane without Jacob that first year, and having to fight back tears on every line of Once in Royal David’s City, rippled over her mind.

Carewyn’s eyes softened empathetically as they drifted up onto the shelf and away from Talbott.]

Carewyn: “(lowly) ...I’m sure your father’s proud of you. Your mum too.”

[Talbott watched Carewyn for a moment, his reddish-brown eyes examining the solemn crinkles in her features. Then he likewise looked away.]

Talbott: “(lowly) ...Thanks, Carewyn. That’s very good of you to say.”

[Pushing the memory of Jacob away again, Carewyn put her best smile back on.]

Carewyn: “...Seriously, though, I would love to read some of your work sometime. I don’t suppose you have any of it with you?”

[Carewyn nodded, remembering the task at hand.]

Carewyn: “Fair enough. We don’t have much time as it is -- Snape’s got a test planned in Potions this afternoon, and I can’t really afford to miss it.”

Flitwick might be kind enough to forgive Talbott for skipping one of his classes, but Snape would never let me get away with it.

[So the two breezed through the shelves, searching for Talbott’s necklace. In the end, however, they were left empty-handed.

It was while Carewyn had bent down to check under one of the tables that Madam Pince approached the two.]

Madam Pince: “Miss Cromwell.”

[Carewyn accidentally hit her head on the table when she quickly tried to straighten up.]

Madam Pince: (irritably) I do believe you caused enough damage to this Library last year with all your poking around. What are you up to?”

[Biting back a grunt of pain, Carewyn more carefully eased herself out from under the table to face Pince.]

Carewyn: “...I’m just helping Talbott look for his necklace, Madam Pince.”

Madam Pince: “(suspiciously) Oh?”

[Talbott appeared at that moment, to come to Carewyn’s defense.]

Talbott: “I lost it the other day, and this was one of the last places I was in. I don’t suppose you’ve seen it? It’s a white feather on a silver chain, with a gold clasp shaped like an ‘S.’”

[Madam Pince frowned, her brows knitting together.]

Madam Pince: “(murmurs) A white feather...”

Carewyn: “(at once) Have you seen it, Madam Pince?”

Madam Pince: “No...but I seem to recall Mr. Filch perusing the shelves for information on cat toys yesterday. He said something about Mrs. Norris playing with this white feather she’d found while he was doing his rounds outside, and he thought to find something better.”

[Carewyn and Talbott both shot their heads around to look at each other.]

Talbott: “Then Mrs. Norris has it!”

Carewyn: “She must’ve found it on the Training Grounds and brought it inside!”

Madam Pince: “(reproachfully) SHH!”

[Carewyn and Talbott both flinched, but they were both too excited and determined to be too apologetic.]

Carewyn: “(whispering in relief) Thank you, Madam Pince!”

[The two students immediately darted out of the Library and down the hall.]

Talbott: “(muttering) Let’s split up -- we can cover more ground that way -- ”

Carewyn: “(nods) I’ll check Filch’s office -- ”

Talbott: “And I’ll look for Mrs. Norris outside -- reckon I can spot her more easily, from the air. Meet you after your Potions class, in the Courtyard.”

[With this, the two parted ways, with Carewyn dashing upstairs and Talbott running out toward the Training Grounds.]

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #lone wolves #talbott winger #carewyn cromwell #madam pince #roleplaying #gameplay #jacob cromwell #only two parts left!! we're coming up to our end fast!!#then I can finally do a formal masterpost of this whole series so it's easier to read it all the way from the beginning...#this got longer than I thought it would!!

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liiilyevans · 3 years

Note

Harry walking on Ron and Hermione ;)

A/N: Hi Anon! Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy!

Four Times Harry Walked in on Ron and Hermione and One Time He Didn’t

Harry sighed as he walked through the Burrow’s front door. He’d been at Death Eater hearings the majority of the day, and now he just wanted to sleep. Trials weren’t as simple as he thought they should be. Of course, the world wasn’t as simple as he thought it would be either. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he would testify for Draco Malfoy.

Shaking his head, he continued into the surprisingly quiet house. He was pretty sure Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had gone to Diagon Alley to check up on George. Mr. Weasley was still at the Ministry when he left. That left Percy and Ron. Percy was probably in his room trying to figure out yet another way to apologize to his family. Harry figured Ron was still in his room sulking while he waited for Hermione to return from Australia. Ron had been moody ever since she left.

Honestly, it was the quickest turn around Harry had ever seen. Ron had been gone for several months and returned; then they were thrown into battle, only for Ron and Hermione to come out of it holding hands. If only Harry was so lucky.

Sighing, he pushed the bathroom door open and turned the shower on. After such a long day, all Harry wanted to do was shower and sleep. He turned to go up the stairs and grab some clothes, thinking about what was next for him. As he passed Ginny’s room, he sighed, wondering if her room like it was the last time he had been in it. Ginny had been on his mind too much lately, yet he could never find the right words to say to her. Something stupid always ended up coming out of his mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushed the door to Ron’s room open.

And was meant with an eyeful of Hermione’s bra.

At least, the back of it. She was straddling Ron while the redhead lay underneath her, shirtless. Harry’s heart dropped out of his chest. Hermione wasn’t supposed to be back for another week—four days at the least. Yet, here she was; setting on top of his best friend with nothing more than a pink bra and tight jeans, while Ron gaped at him, red sneaking up the sides of his neck and ears.

“Harry!” Hermione squeaked.

“Hermione!” Harry mocked, trying his best not to let his breakfast make a reappearance.

“You were supposed to be in the Death Eater trials.”

“You weren’t supposed to be back for another week.”

“Got in early.”

“Me too.”

By this time, Ron’s face had gone completely red, and Hermione had a faint blush creeping up on her face as well. Harry wanted to smack them both with a Beater’s bat. What if Mrs. Weasley had come upstairs and found them? However, he couldn’t hide from himself the fact that he was jealous that they had each other in this moment after the war. He was happy they could take comfort in each other, even if he had no one to take comfort in right now.

“I’m going back downstairs to check on my shower,” Harry muttered through grit teeth. “When I come back up, you two better be dressed.”

He slammed the door and headed back downstairs, hoping he could get some sleep soon and not have nightmares about Hermione sitting on Ron’s lap.

I.I.

Harry planned to meet George at his and Ron’s flat after George closed his shop. The three of them were going out for drinks to get George out of his flat. Honestly, it was a miracle he had agreed to come with them. He had just agreed to reopen the shop with Ron’s help.

Harry had to give Ron credit though. He’d been training as an Auror and working in George’s shop in the early mornings and late evenings. More often than not, Ron had showed up with dark circles under his eyes. He was always smiling though, happy to help his brother and train with Harry to become an Auror.

As he climbed the steps to the flat, Harry wondered what Ginny was doing tonight and if they should ask her to tag along. Since graduating from Hogwarts, Harry hadn’t seen much of her—not that he’d spent much time with her while she was in Hogwarts. Ginny was just as untouchable now as when he’d broken up with her.

Turning the knob, he entered the flat. It was darker than usual. The only light coming from between the curtains of the windows. There was only once piece of furniture in the front room and it was a couch, which happened to be housing his two best friends.

Ron was on top of Hermione with his pants just starting to be tugged off his hips. For her part, Hermione was mostly covered. Her blue dress only had a few buttons undone, but the bottom of it had ridden up from where Ron was grinding into her.

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry sputtered.

Ron jumped, nearly exposing Hermione to Harry’s line of sight. He thanked Merlin that it was dark.

“Harry,” Ron panted, as he pulled his trousers back up. “I didn’t expect you to be early.”

“Early?” Harry shot back. “I’m on time. Where the fuck is George anyway?”

“Downstairs closing,” Ron answered, still not moving from between Hermione’s legs. “He said he could close without me since I’d been working so hard.”

“So, you thought you’d come up here and have a quickie?”

“No,” Hermione objected, her distain for the word obvious in the way her lips tightened.

The door to the kitchen opened, and the kitchen light came on, exposing more of Ron and Hermione than Harry wanted to see. George appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

“Having fun?” he asked drily.

Ron growled finally standing up and beginning to put his shirt on. Hermione grabbed her dress and pushed it quickly done her legs. Clearly seeing that she wasn’t wearing a bra, Harry glanced away. As Hermione began to button up the top of her dress, George snorted.

“Right then,” he said. “Let’s get going then. No birds allowed.” He offered a pointed glance at Hermione.

Well, Harry’s plan of asking Ginny to come along was ruined.

I.I.I.

Harry found Ginny, George, and Percy in the kitchen of the Burrow. Ginny looked devastating as always, her hair pulled up into a high pony that showed off her high cheek bones. Harry remembered when he was allowed to run his thumb alone those cheekbones and trace the line of her freckles. She acted annoyed when he did that, but she let him anyway. His hands drew into fists for a moment, to stop himself from reaching out and stroking her face. George would take the mickey out of him if he did that.

“What are you lot doing in here?” Harry asked.

“Waiting for Mum to get back,” George answered. “Starving we are.”

“Hardly,” Percy muttered.

He was still awkward around his family sometimes, mostly around George. Harry suspected it was due to the fact that George had nearly fought him at Fred’s funeral.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked. “It’s too early for super.”

“I know,” Harry said, trying to think of something cool to say other than, ‘I wanted to see if I could get you alone.’ “I got off training early. Thought I’d swing by and see if Ron was here yet.”

Idiot, he seethed inside. He prayed that his best mate wasn’t here yet; then he could spend more time with Ginny.

Ginny hummed, glancing down for a moment. “Ron’s in the front room.”

Harry nodded and slid past Ginny. The smell of her perfume made him weak in the knees. Merlin, what he wouldn’t give to have enough courage to talk to her about them, even Ron had been with Hermione for three years now, and Harry couldn’t even manage to talk to Ginny about anything that was remotely romantic. Last time he’d had a proper conversation with her, it was about Quidditch and how the Harpies were cheated out of their chance for the Cup. Annoyed he entered the sitting room and stopped dead.

Hermione was bent over Ron’s lap, her head bobbing up and done slowly. Ron, thankfully, still had his pants on, so Harry couldn’t see anything below the belt. He still had his shirt on as well, though Hermione’s hand was traveling underneath it. With his head thrown back against the couch and his eyes closed. Ron looked completely at ease.

Until his eyes opened.

“Harry,” he squeaked.

Hermione froze. Harry thought she was about to remove her mouth from Ron’s lap, but his hand came down on her head, keeping her in place.

“Really, Ron?” Harry hissed. “In your mum’s sitting room?”

Ron had the grace to blush. “Listen, Harry, just . . . don’t tell Mum.”

Throwing his hands up, Harry turned and marched back into the kitchen. George had a shit-eating grin on his face, while Ginny was biting her lip. Percy’s gaze was somewhat sympathetic.

“You knew,” Harry growled, turning to Ginny.

“I guessed.”

At this, George couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Harry was glad someone found this amusing.

I.V.

Harry couldn’t help but smile against Ginny’s lips. It’d been months since he’d seen her. She was out with the Harpies playing match after match and practice hardly left her with any free time. He, on the other hand, was busy trying to work on several different cases at once. His boss seemed to think he was good enough to solve them all at once since he was Harry bloody Potter.

Thankfully, when Harry was with Ginny, he didn’t have to think about how he was going to fix the world’s problems.

Ginny pressed her body more firmly against his as she leaned against the wall, her fingers pulling tight at the messy locks of his hair. He couldn’t get enough of her, his hands pressing into the softness of her back.

“Glad you came to that stupid Ministry function?” she asked, her lips grazing the skin of his neck.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “Never enjoyed one so much until I saw you in this dress.”

Ginny laughed.

He hadn’t wanted to be at the Ministry, but Ron had talked him into it. Harry hadn’t realized that Ginny was supposed to be there, but thanked his lucky stars that he had been able to talk to her—and get her alone. They were still in the Ministry, down some deserted hallway.

“Come on,” Ginny muttered. “I wanna get you alone, where I can get your clothes off.”

Harry groaned as he pressed against her. “Gin.”

They still weren’t together. Somehow Harry had been lucky enough to get in her pants again, but that was it. She never asked about him taking her out on a date or hanging out with him as something more than a friend. It frustrated Harry to no end, but he didn’t want to bring up a relationship if all she was looking for was fun. Merlin, he really needed to grow a pair and ask her out.

“In here,” she mumbled as she pushed open the door to a vacant room. He stumbled in after her, kissing the side of her neck. If he could just find the tie to this dress, he would be the happiest man in the world.

“What the bloody fuck!”

Harry yanked away from Ginny as she lit her wand and spun around. On a nearby counter, sat Hermione covering her breasts with Ron between her legs. Harry’s best mate was wearing nothing, but the trousers around his ankles, his freckled arse on display for both of them to see. Hermione wasn’t much better. The dress she had been wearing earlier was around her waist, covering only a small portion of her and Ron’s private bits.

“What are you doing?” Ginny laughed. “I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist, Hermione.”

She scowled and was about to say something, but Ron beat her to it.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “And what’s Harry doing with you? I thought you two weren’t together.”

“We’re not,” she answered. “And I don’t believe you’re in a position to be asking questions, Ronald. Wait till Mum hears about this.”

Ron started towards her, but Hermione tightened her legs around him to stop him from moving.

Harry finally recovered his voice. He grabbed Ginny’s arm.

“Come on, Gin.”

“Get back to work, Sparky. Make sure that girl has an orgasm!”

Ron slid into the bed next to Hermione. She’d rented out a room in Diagon Alley to live in over the summer as she looked for a permanent job. Ron had taken the liberty of spending most of his nights with her—behind his mum’s back of course.

“Ron?” she mumbled.

“Hey,” he said, snuggling up to her. Spooning Hermione was the most comforting action he could think of. All of the stress melted out of his body and dripped onto the bed, bothering him no more.

“It’s late.”

“Mum was up for a long time. Crying I think, but I couldn’t get her to admit it. She was probably missing Fred.”

Hermione turned to face him. “Is she ok?”

Ron pushed a strand of curly hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. Dad came down and talked to her. They went to bed about thirty minutes ago.”

“Are you ok?” she asked. He knew she wasn’t talking about missing Fred exactly. He’d been working with George and trying to balance his job as an Auror, all while figuring out how to deal with the loss of his brother. It wasn’t an easy thing.

“Yeah, Perce has been helping with the book keeping. George and I aren’t very good at that.” He snorted. “Go figure.”

“I worry about you sometimes,” she whispered, thumb running along his jawline. She was fully awake now, and her big brown eyes were watching him with a mix of curiosity and pity.

“Don’t,” Ron said, poking her stomach. “I’m the one who should be worried about you. What’s all this nonsense I hear about you not being able to get a job because you’re ‘overqualified?’”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t matter. And only one person said that. I haven’t heard back from the other two departments yet. I’ll find something, Ron.”

“I know,” he said. “But I want you to love it.”

Hermione sighed and rolled on top of him. Ron grabbed her hips and enjoyed the view.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing.”

She leaned down and kissed him. Ron let his hands slid up to cup her face and hold her there. This was his favorite part of dating her. He got to be intimate with her, and not just in a sexual way. He got to hold her hand and kiss her and cuddle with her late at night. It really was the closest he had been to anyone in his life.

She began to tug at his shirt.

“Hermione,” he muttered. “Do you really want to do this right now?”

“Yes,” she answered pulling the shirt over his head.

Ron reached for her shirt and tugged it up as well. Fuck, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

If he’d thought it once, he’d thought it a hundred times. Hermione had perfect tits. They were on the small end, but her nipples were large and pink. They stuck out beautifully when she was turned on—much like they were doing right now.

“Hermione,” he groaned, grabbing her hips and grinding up into her. She grinned at him, proud of how she made him squirm. Ron surged upward to kiss her, nipping at her bottom lip.

“Ron,” she groaned, her hands sliding up his arms and coming to rest on his shoulders.

“Hermione,” he answered. “I . . .” Words left him. He wanted to ask her to get a flat with him, but he knew that it was too soon for that. She would want to live on her own for a bit while she had a job and try to figure her life out first. Damn her independence.

“I need you to take your pants off,” he said instead. Hermione willingly complied. She moved off his lap and pushed her sleep trousers off her legs, leaving her in bright pink knickers. “You’re gorgeous.”

Ron pulled her back into his lap and pressed his lips into the edge of her collarbone. Hermione moaned, rocking her hips into his pants since he’d thrown his trousers off when he’d entered her bedroom. His hand grabbed the ends of her hair and pulled slightly. Hermione’s head rocked back, and her chest arched toward him. Without thinking, Ron leaned forward and captured a nipple between his lips.

“Ron,” she gasped. Pride thumbed through his body as she moaned his name and wiggled on his lap. He still couldn’t believe she let him do this to her.

His hand ran down her body until it reached her knickers. As his hand rested on her thigh, he let his thumb reach down and begin to rub her clit. Her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth now as she waited for him to drive her closer to the edge.

“You’re so sexy when you’re like this,” Ron said, brushing small kisses across her chest.

Hermione pulled against his grasp, and he let her hair go. The hands on his shoulders became forceful. He fell back on the bed. Hermione’s hands were on either side of his head, her hair fanning around them both, bits of it covering her eyes.

“Get your pants off.”

“I love it when you order me around.”

“Shut it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ron quickly rid himself of his pants and laid back down with his hands resting behind his head.

“Why are you so smug?” she demanded.

“I’m not,” he replied. “I just like watching you strip.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and climbed on top of him. He could feel her wetness as she rubbed herself on him. His hands ran down the bed and found her thighs. They climbed the creamy skin until they reached her center. He lined himself up with her entrance as she lifted up slightly. Then she was sinking down onto him, and Ron was trying so hard not to come inside her already.

He’d improved greatly since they’d first started this. Before, he hadn’t been able to last more than five seconds, and he’d have to finish her with his fingers and mouth, not that he didn’t enjoy that. However, when he was able to last longer and make Hermione come while he was inside of her, it was even better than before.

“Hermione,” he moaned, pressing his hips into her in an effort to get deeper.

“Ron. Yes. That’s so good.”

Ron pushed up into her again, loving the feeling of being close to her.

Sometimes, he felt like he was the more sentimental one when it came to sex. He loved watching her as she moved under or on top of him. He was the one who enjoyed the feel of her, regardless of how much pleasure he received from the position they were in. She was more analytical about it, trying to figure out what they both liked and what positions would work best for both of their pleasure. Ron was content just to be inside her.

Her hips were pushing roughly against his. Ron knew that if he didn’t help her out, he’d be the first one coming tonight.

“Hermione,” he muttered, hands sliding down her hips to her core. “I love it when you ride me.”

Hermione moaned loudly. Ron’s hand found her clit and began to message it slowly.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” he said, pressing her clit harder. “I love watching you.”

His name fell from her lips and she pressed herself against his hand, as she tightened around his cock.

“You feel so good around me.”

His hand started to add more pressure to her clit and she whimpered.

“Ron, I’m so close.”

“I know, Hermione.”

He pressed up and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Hermione moaned loudly before clenching around his cock and bringing him with her as she came down from her high.

“I needed that,” Ron muttered as Hermione lay exhausted on top of his chest.

“I know,” she said. “You’ve been stressed lately.”

“Oi, are you saying you only shagged me because I was stressed?”

“No, I shagged you because I wanted to. Sex just happens to help with stress.”

Ron grinned as his hand traced patterns on her back. He truly was the luckiest man in the world.

#anon #romione #ron wealsey #hermione granger #harry potter #ginny weasley #i had fun writing this #hope you enjoy #hp #Smut #My writing

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wlntrsldler · 4 years

Text

unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.1K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

UNREQUITED PLAYLISTS (SEND ME SONGS!)

PART 16

“Malfoy is a Death Eater.”

Harry’s words made your heart drop to your stomach. It’s been two weeks since the Katie Bell incident and Harry’s grown restless. He sat beside you, Ron and Hermione sitting in front of you, as Harry told you about his suspicions about Malfoy. Your eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table, watching the blond boy pick at his food. He looked thinner, almost ghostly, as he ignored the chatter of Pansy to his left.

You looked down at your hands, hiding your face as Filch walked up and down the Great Hall trying to spot anyone who wasn’t sitting with the correct house. You gulped, “What makes you say that?”

“Harry’s been talking rubbish since the start of the year, you see,” Ron rolled his eyes, stuffing his mouth with dinner rolls. “He’s gone mad, I say. He truly believes Malfoy is a Death Eater.”

Harry lowered his head, growing impatient with his friend. Scowling he replied, “He is. I swear it. His father is one so it only makes sense.”

“Not everyone is their father,” you responded, not having the courage to look at the boy in the eye. You scraped your plate with your fork, an unpleasant sound emerged, making Hermione take the utensil from your grasp. “Sorry.”

Hermione shot you a worried look, “I agree with Y/N. He doesn’t seem like he is.”

“Then what else could he have been doing at Borgin and Burkes?”

“Shopping for furniture?”

“Miss Y/LN,” you turned around at the sound of your name. Your cheeks flushed red as Professor Sprout stood behind you, head tilted in confusion. “Shouldn’t you be sitting with your house?”

“Well, I-”

She shook her head, twisting her body to the side before pointing you to the direction of your house’s table, “Go on.”

Sighing, you got up, leaving your unfinished dinner on the table. The trio waved their awkward goodbyes and watched as you miserably sulked all the way to the table where you felt the most unwelcomed. Once you sat, you couldn’t help but look for the blue eyes you’ve grown to love. Draco was staring at his forearm, tears pricking his eyes. You wanted nothing else but to hold him and tell him that everything would be alright, but even you knew that those words would be a lie. You don’t want to lie to him.

Draco stood up abruptly, the entire Slytherin table coming to a halt. Everyone watched the Slytherin Prince frantically look around the Great Hall, all eyes boring into his being. His eyes were bloodshot red, chest rising rapidly up and down. He backed away from the table, locking eyes with Harry from the other side of the room. Then without another word, Draco ran out the opened doors, with Harry trailing after him, not far behind.

It took you a minute to regain your sanity, watching the scene unfold in front of you as murmurs from everyone in the Great Hall began to heighten. The professors were arguing about who would be the one to follow the two boys, afraid that something big might ensue. You mumbled an excuse to your table, who didn’t even notice your presence, before you ran after the two boys.

You heard their rushed footsteps. Then you heard heart wrenching sobbing— one that was too familiar. You swallowed back your tears, hiding behind the wall that separated you from the two of them. Water was running, almost touching the tip of your shoes from behind the wall. You peeked, concern overflowing in your body. Draco looked at Harry, eyes pleading hoping that he’ll see that he didn’t want to do this. He had no choice.

You tried to look to see if he had the ring on his finger, but to no avail. You couldn’t see from where you stood. All you could do was hope that he would see how you still thought of him.

“I know what you are.” Harry’s voice dripped with venom, his wand raised at the ready. He glared at Draco, who was shaking under Harry’s intense stare.

As Draco was about to respond, a flash of yellow light caught his attention. From beneath his white button up, the ring rested on a chain that he tucked away. A piece of you. The last piece of you he had left. A small smile played on his lips when he finally looked up. He could die happy at this moment, that’s all he thought about. He could die the most horrid of deaths; he could die at the mercy of Harry Potter; he could die right now because he knew you were still thinking of him.

So he gave up.

Draco didn’t reach for his wand when he stood in front of Harry, vulnerable and unarmed. He could’ve easily drawn his wand and commenced a duel. He could’ve easily fought back but if he were to win, or even if he were to merely survive this altercation, meant he had to complete a mission he was not suited to fulfill. Merlin knows what they would do to you if he failed to kill Dumbledore. At least in his death, he knew that his family would not touch you. You would be no use to them anymore.

When Harry pointed his wand at Draco, he watched the blond boy’s eyes flicker behind him, focused on something else. Harry allowed himself the luxury to turn around, sensing that Malfoy was not a threat, and saw you. You emerged from your spot from behind the wall and stood behind Harry, feet in the midst of the puddle that surrounded the bathroom. You stood idle, staring straight ahead, looking at Draco who calmed upon seeing your figure alive and well in front of him.

Draco made a move to retrieve the ring from inside his shirt, movements mimicking the movements of one who might draw their wand. Harry saw his arm move, eyes quickly diverting his attention back to Draco. Afraid that Draco might cast a spell, Harry acted out of instinct. His words slipped out of his lips faster than you could stop him.

“Sectumsempra.”

You ran past Harry, falling to your knees as you cradled Draco’s bleeding body in your arms. The boy who cast the curse paled, looking down at his hand as if he were the one to be cursed. He gulped, hand covering his mouth in disbelief. You sobbed as you held Draco’s limp body, the water that was once clear, now a sea of pink. Draco’s blood stained his white shirt and within the rips of the fabric, you saw a piece of the ring poking out. It was a glowing yellow, merely a blur with the tears that hindered your eyesight.

“Draco, my darling, I’m here,” you murmured, eyes not leaving his face. You didn’t bother to get up when you heard the footsteps approach you. You didn’t flinch when the tainted water splashed upwards, mixing in with the water from your tears. You only held on tighter when you heard your name being spoken from someone’s lips. “I’m here, Draco.”

Snape looked down at you, eyes showing signs of grief. He gulped as he watched you hold Draco’s aching body, reminding him of himself all those years ago when he held Lily’s corpse. Snape switched his attention to Harry, glaring at the boy before telling him to leave at once. He then took a hold of you and Draco, and led you to the hospital wing.

You sat beside Draco, not once letting go of his cold hands. Snape watched from the foot of the bed, vastly ashamed that he did not realize that you were in love with the Slytherin. He cleared his throat, “He’ll be alright.”

“Okay,” your voice was hoarse, likely because of the sobs that you produced the entire way through. You didn’t look at Snape, focused only on the boy that you loved, pale and nearly lifeless in front of you.

Your memories, your worst fear, began to creep up on you. The way Draco laid in front of you reminded you so much of Cedric. His body unmoving, hair sticking to his forehead, and the coldness of his skin. All you could do was pray to whatever higher power there is in the universe for Draco’s eyes to flutter open and reveal the blue of the vast ocean that you’ve fallen in love with, and not the cloudy grey that Cedric’s revealed that day.

“You should go and rest, Miss Y/L/N.”

“I’m quite alright here, thank you,” you answered harshly, still not showing any signs of moving from your seat.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Snape’s voice was stern, but he wasn’t angry. He was worried. His tone made you look up at him, confused as to why he began to care for you all of a sudden. “I must insist that you leave. Lucius Malfoy is on his way here and I know Draco would not want you to be caught by his father.”

You let go of his hand, instantly missing the feeling of his skin against yours. You nodded, placing a soft kiss to his temple before getting up to leave, “Thank you for warning me, Professor.”

“I’ll let you know how he’s doing.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that.”

“Oh and Miss Y/L/N,” Snape called after you as you were half-way out the door. “Mr. Malfoy has signed up to do something that I fear may destroy him and I’m sorry to inform you that he’s done so in order to keep you safe.”

Your heart sped up in your chest, fingers gripping the doorknob tightly, “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Mr. Malfoy is in love with you, entirely,” he replied, taking over your spot beside Draco, “And if you, by any means, feel the slightest bit of affection towards him, I suggest you let him know before it’s too late.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say next. You watched Snape lean back on his chair, looking at Draco’s wounds from a distance. The candle that was burning beside Draco’s bed cast a light on his face, color beginning to come back. You sighed in relief when you saw his lips twitch. Although you knew Draco wouldn’t be able to see it, you thought of him— a short flash of yellow illuminating the room for a second. Snape couldn’t help but smile softly at the gesture, impressed by your ability to charm things so well at your age.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

You froze. The voice was directly behind you, his breath almost tickling your skin. You heard Snape get up from his chair, clearing his throat, “Miss Y/L/N, we can talk about what you can do for extra credit at another time. Thank you for speaking with me today. See you tomorrow.”

You nodded, hands shaking as you pushed the door open for Lucius’ arrival. “Right, the extra credit. Thank you, Professor.”

Lucius watched you scurry down the hallway. He entered the room, his cane clicking against the floor. He sat on the other side of his son, sneering at the obvious injuries. He scoffed, “He should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s a difficult curse to counteract.”

“Really?” Lucius sounded unconvinced, watching as his son grimaced in pain as he prodded at his injuries. “How do you know?”

“I came up with the curse.”

“Well, I stand by my original statement.”

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Lucius’ slight jab, turning his attention to the recovering boy. He noted that his wounds were no longer bleeding, which was a good sign. “I don’t think he’s ready yet, Lucius.”

“He needs to be, Severus.”

“But he’s simply not.”

“Frankly,” Lucius spoke, tone irritated. He stood up from his chair, feeling like he’s already seen enough. “I don’t understand your concern. And I don’t appreciate your candor with the girl. She must not know and you definitely have no right telling her. Unless, of course, you’ve turned your back on the Dark Lord?”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” Snape spat, getting up to be eye level with the wizard.

“Your intentions… they’re questionable, Severus.”

“They’re not for you to question. You are not who I serve, are you, Lucius?”

The air was thick. Lucius stared at Snape, eyes lit by anger. He shook his head, stomping away with his cane in his grasp. As the door slammed with a loud boom, it shook Draco awake. His eyes blinked a few times, lips parting to take a deep breath. Snape heard the boy cough, immediately reaching over to offer him a glass of water. After taking a sip, Draco held the ring from inside his shirt.

He looked at his professor, “Is Y/N safe?”

Snape stared at the shut doors, heart growing heavy as everything daunted him. The war is coming and he’s playing both sides. He nodded, “For now she is.”

Those words were enough for Draco. He let his tiredness consume him, hoping that his slumber would last his lifetime and he would no longer need to fulfill his duties.

TAGLIST:

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READ ABOUT MY UPCOMING FRED FIC HERE!

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amphxtrite · 3 years

Text

3 • Hurricane

series summary: alone almost everyday from the moment you were born, thrown to the side by everyone in society because of who your parents were and who you were said to be, a death eater. Your parents were to of the most powerful dark wizards ever known and because of that you were shunned everywhere you went. When the hufflepuff golden boy sees you for the first time and falls, but is he willing to be judged, feared, and hated, and how far will he go, To Be At Her Side.

chapter summary: everything seemed to be going well, for a short amount of time everything felt right. cedric had grown closer to you and became a friend. But all good things come to an end, and yours came with something you could have never seen or expected.

warnings: flashbacks, mentions of violence, threats.

tag list: @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @hoe4cedricdiggory @queenl04 @persephone-archives @0niko-san @annasdani @joalinbenefits @awritingtree @confuscita @badgal-jackie @cedricsfluffyhair @degeathesaviour

word count: 3.9k

a/n: there’s quite a lot to absorb in this chapter, but I love how it turned out!

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

“In the eye of the hurricane, there is quiet for just a moment.”

Before every storm, there is a calm. When everything feels right, everything seems to fall into place. You think everythings is going to be alright.

And for a while it was.

You had someone beside you, a friend you could nod at in the hallways, or talk about homework with, and it was enough. You spent your entire life doing everything alone, and suddenly it all changed. A grey eyed hufflepuff had managed to sneak into your lonely existence and put a smile on your face. It was sweetly excruciating. You were truly grateful for his company, and enjoyed having Cedric around, it was just hard showing him that, when you had never had a friend before. You were in forigen territory and you could tell Cedric found it hilarious.

You’d catch him smirking when you struggled to ask him for assistance with anything, but in the end, he’d always help you through it, reassuring you and putting up with your awkward demeanor and your confusion towards his jokes.

“Come on y/n, you’re supposed to laugh!” Cedric chuckles, clutching his stomach as you stare on at him, book clutched in your grip as you cock your head sideways.

“Oh- um… Haha.” You deadpan, flicking your attention back to the novel residing in your hands as Cedric rolls his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what jokes are either.” He huffs, standing from the table and plucking the book from your hands.

“I was raised alone, Cedric. Not under a rock.” You comment with a small smirk, swiping it back and pressing back the pages Cedric had wrinkled.

“Okay, okay. We’ve been here all day though, can we please at least go to the courtyard, my legs are starting to go numb from sitting in this bloody chair.” Cedric pouts, glancing longingly out the windows.

“I don’t see why not.” You shrug, shutting your book and picking up your bag. “You’re sure about being seen with me?” You inquire softly.

“You don’t have to ask that everytime we go somewhere y/n.” The brunette huffs with a smile and a light shake of his head.

“Just need to make sure.” You remark, pursing your lips.

You never would get used to walking the halls with someone. A friend.

You could tell Cedric’s struggles about being seen with you grew less and less apparent as your friendship progressed. You even dealt with less harassment from your peers as Cedric spent more time with you. Aside from the occasional scoff or glare from one of Cedric’s admirers or a person that hates you, everything was going alright.

You round the corner to the clocktower courtyard, drop yourself onto the stone structure and pull out the transfigurations homework you had yet to finish.

“Oh no you don’t!” Cedric sighs, taking your hands and plucking the papers away. You flinch back at the sudden contact.

Cedric’s eyes widen as he realizes what he did. “Oh my goodness, y/n I’m so sorry.”

“N-No, Cedric it’s alright. You just scared me is all.” You reassure, brushing it off with a light chuckle.

Cedric’s tensed shoulders begin to relax and he offers his hand to you again. “I still think it’s too early for homework. How about a walk around instead?” Cedric suggests, smiling to himself as you roll your eyes, but eventually take his outstretched hand.

“I guess a walk wouldn’t hurt.”

The afternoon faded to evening, but Cedric continued to walk around the Hogwarts ground with you. He laughed and joked, ran around the trees and dipped his hands into the freezing cold lake, while you stood beside him and allowed a small grin on your face as you breathed in the summer air and enjoyed the soft breeze.

Everything was perfect, everything felt right, everything except the strange pink coat that dusted Cedric’s cheeks whenever he’d managed to make you smile. You had no idea what that could possibly be, so you chose to ignore it. Cedric seemed so happy, it must be from all his running around.

“Hey Ced, it’s almost dinner, we should probably head back to the castle now.” You sigh as the sun became no more than a bright line in the purple stained sky.

“Oh alright.” He chuckles, standing from his spot on the field. “For you.” He smiles as he lifts a small white wildflower to your face.

You smile at the small bloom and reach your hand out to take it between your fingers when a sense of strange dread washes over you.

You freeze as the feeling passes, a mix of being watched and being cursed. Cedric doesn’t seem to notice at first, but as your eyes glass over and your hand freezes, he knows something is up.

He hears a rustle from the outskirts of the forbidden forest and two blurry shadows emerge.

“Y/n, we have to go now!” He whispers hurriedly as you snap yourself out of your daze and nod. Cedric tucks the wildflower behind your ear and creeps behind the large bushes with you in tow. The two of you are quick to make a mad dash as soon as you’re out of immediate sight of whatever creature was lurking on the edge of the forest, and entering the familiar, warm hallways of Hogwarts.

“D-Did you feel that too?” You ask over the sound of your heavy breathing.

“Feel what?”

“That we were being watched! L-Like someone was going to hex us.” You stammer, glancing back every few moments at the strange burning feeling at the back of your neck.

“No… Maybe you’re just tired y/n, I’ll walk you back to your common room.” Cedric sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and pulling his cloak a little closer to his body despite the warm temperature.

You nod gently and begin the walk down to the slytherin common room, removing the flower from your hair and gently playing with the petals.

“Anyways, do you have any plans for the summer?” Cedric chimes in an attempt to rid of the thought hanging limp in your mind.

“Y/n?” He questions again when you don’t respond.

“Hm? Oh, usually I spend the summers at my old house, after I grew old enough the orphanage kicked me out and the ministry allows me to live by myself under strict conditions.” You sigh, thinking of the loneliness you would have to endure after school ended for holidays later this month.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If anything it’s still better than being stuck in the orphanage that did not want me.” You murmur, pursing your lips and sticking the blossom behind your ear again.

“I-I don’t mean to intrude, but do you ever… Miss your parents?” Cedric inquires softly.

You pause for a moment, choosing your words carefully.

“Every child misses their parents when they’re away. The problem is I barely knew my parents so I miss them in a different way.” You begin. Cedric looks at you to continue.

“If... You’re given a present on Christmas, but you aren’t allowed to open it, or know what’s inside, then obviously you’d be very upset. But as you go about your holiday, people tell you what they believe is inside the present. They tell you horrible things, and now you wonder if you really do want to open your gift.” You sigh, rounding the last corner to your common room. “They’re my parents, I obviously miss them. It’s just I don’t know what to think after all that’s happened through my life.” you pause, curling your hands into fists and letting out a loud sigh.

“Thanks for walking me back Cedric, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You nod to the brunette, whispering the password and stepping into the empty common room. Everyone must still be at dinner.

Cedric looks as though he wants to say more so you wait with an expecting look.

“I- good night y/n.”

“Good night Cedric.” You respond, allowing the door to creak to a close behind you.

Cedric curses himself in front of the door. This wasn’t how he had wanted that to go. He could have said anything, called you beautiful, invited you to go to the great hall to get some food before you went to bed, anything would have been better than stuttering out a goodnight!

He was just so deep in thought thinking about your story. How little people really chose to know and understand about you. He walked away with joy about the day’s activities, but also with a new feeling of disappointment and worry.

You collapse into your four poster with a light smile on your face as you hold the small flower in your hand and bring it to your nose again. Earthy rain and sweet petals fill your nose as you replay your day with Cedric over and over again. It was nice to have a friend like him in your life, but a strange feeling in your stomach gave you a new kind of sensation. One you hadn’t felt before, and you liked it.

As the great authors you’d read would say, it was like butterflies swarming her stomach, a loss for words when you looked into his eyes and the urge to hold him in your arms.

“No, Cedric is just a friend.” You laugh to yourself, hoping tomorrow would be just as amazing as today.

You lift your wand from your pocket and run your fingers across the beautiful design, breathing deeply as you cast a charm to keep the flower from wilting. You smile and set the blossom on your desk when a small crack brings your attention back to the real world, and a short cackle makes your blood run cold.

“Well, well, well. It’s been a long time, trouble.” A breathy high pitched voice rings from the shadows in the corner of your room.

“Oh do be nice darling, poor thing probably doesn’t remember who we are.” A lower, deeper voice calls from beside her.

You raise your wand again, this time with more malicious intentions than to charm a flower.

“Who are you? A-And what are you doing in my dorm?” You demand, pointing it back a forth from the man and woman in the pair.

“Oh poppet.” The woman laughs, stepping out of the dark corner.

“After everything we’ve done to get back to you that hardly seems the appropriate response.” She smiles.

Your jaw drops and as the man steps out from behind the curtain of darkness your hand flies to your locket. It couldn’t be! Your parents were locked away in Azkaban! How in Merlin’s name could they possibly be standing in front of you in Hogwarts of all places.

Your head snaps up and down towards the clean cut couple in the locket to the crazed, disgruntled pair standing before you.

“You…”

“Oh look dear, she still has the locket.” Your mother exclaims, pulling on your father's tattered sleeve as he nods slowly.

Your mother takes another step closer, and you can see the dirt and grime smeared on her face, the longing look in her eyes. She looked exhausted, but psychotic at the same time. You glance over at your father, but he makes no move. Stoic, as your mother creeps closer to you in the most disturbing manner, almost as if she were sizing up her prey.

“Sixteen long years we’ve been kept apart.” She breathes heavily, finally reaching you and running the back of her hand down your cheek.

“Kept away by those imbeciles at the ministry.” She continues using a mocking tone at the word ministry, lifting your chin up and inspecting your face.

“You’ve grown so much, trouble. Those disgusting little creatures will pay for what they’ve done.” She growls. “All will be well when the dark lord rises again.”

Your jaw drops and your blood runs with fear. “H-He’s coming back?!”

Your mother giggles as if you’ve just said the most hilarious thing and looks at you as though you were a puppy.

“Of course darling! And when he rules, everything will be right again. Order restored.” She cackles. “You’ll be with us again poppet, we promise.” Your father finally speaks, his cracked lips pulling into a dangerous smile.

“Severus will watch over you for the time being, at least until they know we’re gone.” You mother giggles again. “It was nice to see you again poppet.” Your mother smiles darkly.

“Now rest.” She demands, pushing her wand against your forehead and watching as you collapse against the mattress.

“Are you sure we can’t bring her with us, Diana?” Your father asks with a sigh.

“She’ll have her time when she’s ready, Anguis. Now I told Narcissa to take her for the summer, she’ll be safe with the Malfoys for now.” She smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“When the Dark Lord rises again, we can be the family we were meant to be.” She promises softly pushing the hair on your face behind your ear. “She looks just like us Anguis.”

“Yes, I suppose she does.” He nods.

“Now let’s go, before someone senses us.” Your mother sighs, flicking her wand.

“Hush my darling, don’t say a word. Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird, and If that mockingbird don’t sing. Papa’s gonna send you a hurricane, and if that hurricane won’t strike. I’ll kill them myself, don’t you strife.”

Your mother’s lullaby.

She’d sing it to you every night as you lay in the crib.

She was in the middle of singing it when the Aurors came and took them away. You could hear your parent’s screams as they were forced to the ground and taken away. Why were you remembering this now? What was happening...

“Y/n wake up.” A low, hushed voice whispers pulling you from your memory.

Your eyes blink rapidly as you adjust your eyes to the light.

“Mr. Severus? What are you doing here.” You question, wondering why the head of house was standing in your room.

“To keep the other students from attempting to kill you.” He states plainly placing a newspaper down into your lap.

‘Anguis and Diana L/n have escaped Azkaban, please keep a lookout for these two wizards.’ The headline read with the mugshots of your parents staring maliciously back at you.

“So it wasn’t a dream…”

“They came here didn��t they?” Snape sighs, flicking his wand to pack your suitcase with all your belongings. “Yes, what are you doing? How did you-”

“They weren’t supposed to stop here. Now Dumbledore knows they want you and he’s asked you to leave early.” Snape explains. “You’ll be staying with Narcissa and Lucius until we get this figured out, let’s go to Dumbledore’s office so we can Floo you there.” Snape sighs, ushering you out the door with your suitcase in tow.

Everything seems silent at first, but as soon as the door to the common room opens, you’re met with an eruption of shouting.

“This is all your fault!”

“My family is going to die because of you!”

“Death Eater! Death Eater!”

Were all common screams that were thrown your way. You kept your head down and followed Professor Snape’s flowing black robe as he did his best to keep the rest of the students at bay.

You did have to endure a couple of hits, but it was nothing you weren’t already used to.

“She’s going to blow us up like her parents did to the ministry!”

“Send her to Azkaban!”

“That’s enough!” Snape booms, his wand pressed against his throat must’ve meant he was using sonorus, and the students go quiet, they must not have realized he was there. You move behind him so you can continue on your way without the glares and shouts.

“T-They don’t know where I’m going do they?” You ask, worrying for the Malfoy’s.

“No Y/n, besides Lucius was rather eager to invite you. He and your father are rather close.”

“I just-”

“No one will come for the Malfoy’s. They made sure to keep your relocation a secret. You’ll still be back at Hogwarts next year.” He reassures.

You nod and your ears prick up at the sound of heavy breathing and several footfalls.

“Get out of my way! Y/n!” A familiar soft voice calls for you. Cedric.

“Shove off Tartal! Y/n, there you are.” The brunette gasps, catching his breath as he comes up behind you. “Cedric I-”

“Mister Diggory that’s quite enough. All of you get to your classes!” Snape seethes as most of the students disperse with disapproving expressions.

“Wait! Take this, please.” Cedric exclaims, passing you a piece of parchment as you gently take his hand into yours. “Cedric. Stay safe.” You smile, squeezing your intertwined hands.

“I’ll see you next year! I promise!” The brunette whispers one last time before walking to his next class.

‘Write to me.’ The slip read with his address printed in neat handwriting.

You smile as Snape ushers you forwards murmuring the password to the Headmaster’s office and walking up the winding stairs.

You finally reach the top to find the Head of Houses all standing around the room with Dumbledore at his desk in the middle.

“Ah Miss L/n. I do hope you know this is a mere precaution we must take to protect the school.” Dumbledore’s calm voice calls to you as you enter.

“O-Of course sir.” You nod, keeping your head down low as you notice the other teachers looking at you with tensed expression.

“Follow me Y/n.” Snape sighs, shooting the other teacher's death glares as he ushers you to the raging fire and hands you a bowl of floo powder.

“You know what to do.”

You nod and take a handful. Throwing it into the flames you step into the now green flames, tuck your arms into your side and as clearly as you can say your destination.

“Malfoy Manor.”

And in a puff of smoke you were gone.

“Severus-”

“She’s just a child and you know that. All of you know that.” He seethes, stomping out of the office.

You had never met the afamed Malfoys. You knew that they must have been close enough to your family for Draco to nod ‘hello’ every once in a while, but it wasn’t until you emerged from the pristine fireplace did you realize how close your parents really were to Lucius and Narcissa.

“Oh Lucius, y/n is here!” A woman’s soft voice calls from beside the fireplace. That must be Narcissa. “Ah, the young L/n. Nice to finally meet you.” A man answers back, walking into the room and up to you to shake your hand. Lucius, you could see the resemblance to Draco.

“Mr and Mrs. Malfoy, It’s a pleasure.” You smile, shaking Lucius’s hand and turning to Narcissa. “Oh y/n, there’s no need for this kind of formality with your family.” She smiles, wrapping you in a hug.

You tense as your heart drops to your stomach and your vision begins to swim and cloud. How could you have other family members? You were left alone for sixteen bloody years...

“F-Family?”

“Did you not know? Your mother is my sister darling.” Narcissa laughs, running her hand down your head.

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Y-You mean to tell me I’ve spent sixteen years helplessly alone, and I’ve had family this entire time?” You question, pulling back from Narcissa’s arms.

Her eyes widen and you can feel the atmosphere in the room change. “Oh my Merlin, y/n no! We were already being watched by the ministry, we couldn’t take you in while we were still being trialled for Azkaban as well!” She explains hurriedly.

“Your parents knew we had no real involvement with any big events, so they wanted us to wait until we were truly clear to look after you!” She finishes, noticing the look of pain written all over your features.

“We’ve finally got the ministry off our backs dear, you can stay here now.”

“She’s telling the truth y/n, this was for the better.” Lucius sighs, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring, but you felt rather queasy instead.

You fake a smile and clear your throat.

“Where will I be staying? I-I’m rather tired and would like to lay down.” You nod, chewing on your bottom lip and doing your best to keep yourself upright.

“Oh! Of course dear, please follow me.” Narcissa smiles warmly, leading you up a staircase as your suitcase floats up behind you.

You round a corner to a lightly furnished room near the back of the Manor and step inside.

“Get some rest, I’ll call someone to fetch you when dinner is ready.” Narcissa sighs, nodding and wrapping you in another short hug. You don’t know how to reciprocate so you pat her back gently and she lets go.

“It’s good to have you with us Y/n, it’s truly been too long.” She nods, leaving you to unpack your belongings.

“A-And I hope you understand, I do truly apologize for how long it took.” She comments sadly as you sit on the bed with an unreadable expression.

“No- No, it’s alright Aunt Narcissa. I-I’m glad you told me.” You murmur, popping open the clasp to your suitcase.

The woman seems relieved by this and she smiles, finally closing the door and walking back downstairs.

You couldn’t believe everything that had happened in less than 24 hours. Your parents escaped Azkaban, came to visit you and the next thing you knew you were shipped out to the Malfoy’s where you discovered they had been family, who left you alone for sixteen years.

You couldn’t exactly stay mad at them though. Narcissa was right, Draco would have lost his parents too if they had taken you in right away.

Maybe that’s why the blonde had always nodded hello, you were cousins and you didn’t even know.

You flip open the suitcase to find all your textbooks, clothing, quills and books nearly piled in with a newspaper wrapped around something resting at the top.

You reach for the paper and unroll it to read the rest of the article from this morning, but it was a different story. More recent to be exact.

‘L/n’s daughter Y/n has disappeared as search for Anguis and Diana continue. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore says, “she has been relocated for her safety and ours. She is not a threat, but her parents are and we cannot have them coming back.” We are once again asking to keep a lookout for these dangerous criminals please contact...

You sigh and place the newspaper on the bedside drawer and turn back to unpack when something else catches your attention.

Something was wrapped in the newspaper and had fallen from the paper onto your books.

The white wildflower. You smile as you pick it up, remembering all the fun you had only a few short hours ago.

White flowers. The blossom that represents purity and innocence, that also means death.

You chuckle at the irony of it all; Innocence and death, but you knew it really meant more.

Something was coming, your calm was over.

In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet for just a moment, and your moment was up.

The storm was upon you once again, and this time, it was stronger than ever.

#cedric diggory #to be at her side #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory imagine

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pansydaisy · 4 years

Text

forget me not, fred weasley

warnings: death, grief

words: 1,149

Seven months had passed since the second war stormed the Wizarding World. All of the loss and fear, the running and the fighting and the bitter taste of disaster, for most, was in the rearview mirror. Most had waded through the wreckage, eager to grasp within their hands the future that glowed with the promise of safety, purity. Most took the good from the bad, and made something great out of it. But most didn’t include you — you, who still felt as if the weight of the war was clinging ever so desperately onto your shoulders, clawing at your still open wounds. As everyone else reached the shore, with its warm golden glow, you sank down, far below the surface.

Now, the once defeaning storm had calmed, and light had been restored to its rightful place, and yes, maybe you should be shouting from top of the mountains with glee, maybe you should have found peace by now, but it felt utterly shameful to even think of doing such a thing. It wouldn’t be fair, to carry on as if nothing had been lost when in fact so much had been lost.

Mothers and fathers lost their children, children lost their mothers and fathers. People lost their friends, their sisters and their brothers. It really only goes on, and on.

And what you lost, well, it made your heart ache in a way that felt as if it had torn itself to shreds within your chest. There was a vast emptiness in the space beside you, a space that had once been occupied by someone you loved, someone whose life was lost when it rather shouldn’t have been lost at all.

You lost him. Fred Weasley. The boy who stole your heart the very minute he walked into your life, flashing you his signature smile which was exquisitely adorned with his warm caramel eyes. You couldn’t help but to adore him on the spot, and he had been just as entranced by you. And somewhere between all of the conniving and the laughter, the yearning glances and fleeting but cordial touches, the late night adventures and friendly intimacy, you fell in love.

He was your home. It was as if everything had fallen into place, as if the piece you had been missing found it’s way to you. You were satisfied, at peace within the arms of the ginger prankster with a fiery soul and a heart of gold.

And for a while, everything was absolutely wonderful. There was tranquility in the afternoons you spent running around holding hands, the nights you spent laughing under the light of a thousand stars, the mornings you spent tangled in bedsheets. His kisses were fervid, his touch made your skin tingle, his words were sweet. Fred loved you with such passion and certainty, and oh did he have plans. There was nothing he wanted more than a future with you, complete with you in a white gown and him in a tux and two special words, a home to call your own, a family. It’d be a lie to say you didn’t have the same desires. And god, you were so close, it was all right there — twenty years old, a diamond ring on your finger, half unpacked boxes, his and George’s business was booming.

But there was a darkness creeping in the air, threatening you, everyone you loved. And if there was one thing you weren’t going to do, it was stand down. No, you were going to fight, it’s what you were meant to do, it’s what was right. Even if you were afraid. Afraid of losing someone you loved, losing your home, losing yourself. And so when the war knocked down the door, you stood by Fred’s side — “I love you, Freddie. No matter what happens tonight, I love you.”

But nothing prepared you for what happened that night. Within the blink of an eye, you lost everything.

You were distracted, caught up in the moment when a death eater sent a curse in the direction of a young girl, a student. Without hesitation, you had pushed her out of the way with your body, hurling a hex at the death eater. In the few seconds it took you to check the girl over and stand back on your feet, a second curse had been yelled into the air, reaching your ears just before the explosion that sent the walls around you crumbling. The explosion itself pushed you down again, the ringing in your ears and the ache in your head overwhelming.

All you could hear then was Percy’s voice, loud and soaked in fear, and that’s when the panic settled in. Scrambling to your feet, you spun in circles, searching frantically for the face you knew so well. It was to no avail, though — you were looking in all the wrong places, too scared to look down into the rubble itself — until your eyes landed on Percy, immediately following his line of sight. Peeking out of the rubble was a hand, his hand, the hand you had held many times before. The dread pooled in your stomach, and with shaky legs you climbed onto the pile, hastily pulling at the large rocks.

You had to swallow down the nausea when he came fully into view. His face was scratched and pale, as still as the rocks themselves. You couldn’t stop the scream that slipped out as you fell to your knees, tears clouding your vision as they spilled down your face, leaving a bitter saltiness on your lips. One of your hands settled on his cheek — he was still warm, but his heart no longer beat in his chest, everything about him that had been bright and lively was now dull and empty.

You swore you could hear your own heart shatter, the pieces falling one by one as you choked on your breath. With your head buried into the crook of his neck, there was nothing more you wanted in that moment than to feel his arms wrap you up, but they only laid limp by his side.

For those next few hours, as the battle carried on, as his family weeped just as you did, even as Voldemort himself had dissolved to mere ashes, everything ached.

There was no relief. You didn’t celebrate, you didn’t stay and hold your friends and family, you didn’t tend to yourself or accept help — instead, you walked away, carrying with you the loss of someone you loved.

You couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, you didn’t dare step outside, and on the worst days, you couldn’t even pull yourself out of bed. Every fiber of your being burned excruciatingly with grief.

And for seven months, dust gathered on your white gown, the boxes remained half unpacked, and the boy you loved served only as a memory.

#harry potter #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #draco malfoy #hogwarts #fanfiction #fred weasley fic #imagine #fanfic #masterlist #harry potter masterlist #harry potter fic #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine

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finecole · 4 years

Text

George Weasley x Reader // ‘Back in no time’

They all knew what they were signing up for when they agreed to help move Harry, but George and (Y/n) had convinced themselves it wouldn’t go wrong as they squeezed each others hand in goodbye. Story takes place during and around the Battle of the Seven Potters. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x female!Reader, Fred Weasley x Reader (friendship)

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, under age drinking

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

You stepped over the threshold of number four, Privet Drive, one hand still locked in with George’s. This was going to be the first thing you’d ever do for the Order, and by God, you hoped it wasn’t going to be your last.

Harry looked down at you all, slightly bewildered, wondering why there were so many of you. Mad-eye Moody cleared it all up, and started handing out the Pollyjuice. You looked up at George smirking, as he waited his turn, ‘’About to lose all that handsome, huh?’’

‘’Oh, don’t worry (Y/n), you’ll have me back in no time,’’ he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you took each other’s faces in.

The past few weeks, a sadness had started growing behind both your eyes. You’d tried hiding it under jokes and grins, but reality was slowly creeping up on you, like a slow thick fog, as every morning an owl came bearing bad news. Not to mention the news that went unreported, but was noticed none the less.

Mad-Eye poured George his concoction, but before he lifted the potion to his lips, you softly pulled him towards you by his shirt, connecting your lips. The kiss, far too short, but containing so many words none of you dared say out loud.

‘’We’ll be fine,’’ he said as you broke apart. ‘’They don’t even know we’re coming.’’

This, Mad-Eye was almost certain of. Perhaps a few lonely Deatheaters, but nothing you couldn’t handle right? You clung to seven years of Hogwarts teachings and the memories at the room of requirement.

Everyone went in pairs, except for your party: Mad-Eye, questioning Mundungus’ trustworthiness, had pulled you aside two days ago at The Burrow asking you to join him, just in case. You’d agreed, wanting very much to help the cause. But looking at Mundungus now, jumpy and sweating, you felt like this was going to be a little more than just a transport.

George took the potion, and in a matter of seconds there were seven Harry’s. Fred and George started poking each other, their clothes a tad bit too large for Harry’s frame. What a sight.

You went back outside, squeezing George’s hand one more time before you took your place on your broom. Five years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team should be enough, you thought to yourself, if the need for a quick getaway would arise.

Mad-Eye appeared beside you, followed by a transformed Mundungus. ‘’Ready?’’

‘As much as I’ll ever be,’’ you answered.

He patted you on the shoulder before turning to the rest. ‘’Everyone ready, please; I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion’s lost.’’

Everyone mounted their brooms.

‘’Good luck, everyone,’’ shouted Mad-Eye. ‘’See you all in about an hour at The Burrow. On the count of three. One…’’

Your eyes met George’s – well, Harry’s.

‘’Two…’’

He winked.

‘’Three!’’

The next moment, a motorbike roared, and for a moment, the soaring of wings and brooms was all that occupied the night time.

You took Mundungus’ right side and rose through the air fast, heading north, your eyes watering and hair whipping wildly behind you. Surrey shrunk beneath you, and when the lights below you started looking like constellations, your broom gave a violent shake.

Behind you, a small dark cloud was moving towards you, fast. A dementor? No, dementors couldn’t use spells.

‘’Something’s here!’’ you shouted, and from the corner of your eye you saw Mad-Eye’s fake eye turn into his head.

Another green streak barely missed Mundungus, who was now starting to panic.

‘’It’s him!’’ Mad-Eye shouted.

No - Voldemort? You looked back around; more figures had appeared beside the cloud. Squinting, you could make out the outline of a face, barely human. It couldn’t be…

Mundungus had now properly lost it. ‘’Mad-Eye, y- you said this wouldn’t happen! Death Eaters – one thing - but the dark lord?!’’

Mundungus leaned down on his broom, wand in hand, ready to flee.

‘’Keep it together!’’ Mad-Eye shouted at him, as he tried taking him by his arm.

But it was too late, Mundungus had suddenly disappeared in the night, and Mad-Eye, trying to regain his balance after grabbing nothing but air, was struck by the green.

You chocked on a scream. Mad-Eye stilled, and fell into the constellations below, growing smaller and smaller.

This couldn’t be happening. You looked behind you, Voldemort had retreated, but three of his Death Eaters continued to give chase. Below you, forest appeared, and you quickly dove down. Better chance behind a tree, you thought, as you weaved between their curses.

You went lower and lower. Tears were starting to form, flying of your face as fast as they appeared, as your mind went to all the places it shouldn’t. You’ll have me back in no time. Your parents, waiting for Mr. Weasley and Fred to take the portkey. No – you’d shake them off, or go down in a fight.

You’d reached the edge of the forest, and started weaving through the oak trees, small twigs scratching you up. You hoped a rogue branch wouldn’t bring an end to the plan.

The Death Eaters had reached the forest too now, and they were gaining on you, their voices growing louder and more maniacal.

‘’Come here girl! If you oblige, we’ll make it quick!’’

A scream followed, and you risked taking a look behind you. One of them had hit a tree, but his friends were too occupied to give a care. Another spell was rushing towards you. Too late to dodge, it scraped past your right arm. A burning sensation spread from where the spell hit, making you loosen your grip on the broom.

More spells flew past you. They were catching up, and they were growing more and more angry, as green streaks became common. You couldn’t keep this up for long, where were you going? The Burrow, the safehouse? But you’d be leading them right-

A spell put an end to your thoughts, as it hit the end of your broom, making it swerve to the right. The broom’s back hit the tree and whirled around, causing you to lose balance and fall.

Trying to soften the fall you stretched your arms out automatically, resulting in a loud snap and the pain in your right arm growing even more unbearable.

You scrambled behind a large tree, trying desperately to ignore the pain and listen for cracking twigs and leaves behind you. Blood was running down your arm, too fast. Fear and pain was catching up to the adrenaline.

Snap. You whirled around the tree. And with all the power and hope you had left, aimed a pair of stunning spells.

‘’Stupefy!’’ Straight to his chest, a loud thud followed, but not before he got out a spell of his own.

That same burning, sharp feeling, rushing across your abdomen. You were growing light-headed.

You heard the final Death Eater call out to his stunned colleague in the distance. Or was it close by… You could barely tell as sounds were starting to mingle together. Your white shirt was steadily growing a dark red. Too much blood… Your mind raced for a spell, something to close the wound, refill blood, but nothing came.

You gave your wand a final flick, a silver sliver growing larger and larger, before everything turned dark.

--- Fred’s POV ---

Fred stood by the couch on which George was resting, looking outside through the kitchen window. Two figures came into view. Ron, or (Y/n)? A flash of pink hair gave it away.

‘’Ron’s back.’’ They both let out a sigh of relief.

‘’She should have been back by now,’’ George said softly, his voice cracking. He had convinced himself that everything would be fine, but the many absences and his lack of a second ear were surely making him worry.

‘’Don’t worry Georgie, she’ll be back. She has to,’’ Fred said, eyes still outside. ‘’I’m going to wait outside alright? You rest.’’

George tried to protest, but standing up made his head spin so much he had to lay back down.

As soon as Fred walked through the kitchen door, a Thestral carrying Bill and Fleur appeared. His mother rushed towards them, enveloping Bill in a hug. But as they pulled away, Bill’s face turned grim and looked directly at father.

“Mad-Eye’s dead.’’

Fred swallowed a lump, and was about to press on when Bill continued:

‘’We saw it, it happened just after we broke out of the circle: Mad-Eye, Dung and (y/n) were close by us, they were heading north too. Voldemort – he can fly – went straight for them. Dung panicked, I heard him cry out, Mad-Eye tried to stop him, but he Dissaparated. Voldemort’s curse hit Mad-Eye full in the face, he fell backwards off his broom – and there was nothing we could do, nothing, we had half a dozen of them on our own tail –‘’

Fred closed the distance between his brother in a second and took him by the shoulders.

‘’(Y/n)? Did you see anything – Bill, is she?’’ He couldn’t finish that sentence; it couldn’t be true.

Mum put a hand to her mouth, head shaken up by a constant tugging between worry and relief, and looked inside through the door. George’s red hair was just sticking out over the top of the couch.

‘’I don’t know, I think I saw her fly off but they were following her. I’m – I’m sorry.’’ Bill looked at the ground, tears prickling in his eyes.

Fred spun around to his parents. ‘’She’s out there!’’

Anger was starting to nibble on him from the inside out. Their best friend can’t be gone.

Mum suppressed a sob. ‘’Freddie, you have to tell George.’’

She looked at Arthur and her features contorted in pain as she realised something.

‘’Merlin- Arthur, I have to tell Anne to get here.’’

Fred walked back inside, shaking his head, tears forming. No one was supposed to die. Stop. She’s still out there, she had to be, for all of their sakes. For herself.

‘’Freddie?’’ George peered over the back of the couch.

Fred wiped his eyed on his sleeve.

‘’She’s not back yet. Mad-Eye’s dead.’’

George shot up, ignoring the spinning sensation. ‘’What?!’’

Fred rushed towards his side, ‘’Easy George, Bill thinks he saw her fly off, she could turn up any minute now…’’ His words were barely audible now. Who was he trying to convince?

With everyone inside, a silence, interrupted by George’s soft sobs, befell upon them all.

Arthur was leaning on the doorframe, facing outside, when suddenly he jumped up and shouted. ‘’A patronus!’’

Fred and George shot up and rushed to their father’s side. A lioness appeared from the tall grass; she sat down, and locked her eyes on George’s.

‘’That’s (Y/n)’s.’’ George said, pain written all over his features. ‘’She’s in trouble, we have to help!’’

Fred shook his head. ‘’You’re in no condition, I’ll go. Dad?’’

Arthur nodded and flicked his wand; a pair of brooms flew towards him and Fred. Bill Got back on the Thestral, joining in.

George made to protest, but Fred softly pushed him backwards.

‘’George look at yourself. Don’t worry - we’ll get your girl,’’ Fred grinned, taking a seat.

The three of them took off, the lioness running below, leading them towards the forest before dissolving.

Molly joined George’s side, steering him back inside. But before George managed to settle down, another flash appeared outside. Everyone reached for their wands, but someone had already made their way in.

It was a witch, dressed in lime green robes, with her hands up.

‘’Molly - what happened?!’’

---

They landed right at the edge of the forest, and looked around them for any signs. The moon was hiding behind clouds, making it hard to see anything. Fred lit up the end of his wand.

‘’Put it out,’’ Arthur hissed. ‘’There could still be some left.’’

Fred looked at his father, and whispered ‘’How are we supposed to find her then? Besides, they’ll hear us anyway.’’ He stepped on some leaves; a loud crunching sound protruded the darkness, like cutlery dropped on the kitchen floor at midnight.

Arthur sighed, nodded and lit up his wand as well. Bill followed suit, and they made their way in.

Hoping there was no one left (if there was, they surely would be seen), they walked on as Fred thought of the summer after your fourth year at Hogwarts.

Fred, George and you had sneaked off past bedtime, a bottle of fire whiskey in hand, towards the nearby forest. At the edge, you sat down, made a small fire, and decided on a few rounds of truth and dare. The burn of whiskey fresh, you accepted a dare to go into the forest alone, and without wand. Had it not been for the liquid courage, and George’s teasing about (Y/n)’s fear of the dark, she’d never have gone for it, Fred thought.

Five minutes passed, and another, and more. Fred and George, who had, up to that point, occupied themselves with the alcohol, thought it quite odd you’d been gone for so long; they decided to check up on you. Both not too keen on the pitch black forest themselves, they anxiously looked around them.

‘’(Y/n)!?’’ The twins shouted.

Nothing but the cracking of leaves under their feet.

‘’Come on (Y/n), this isn’t funny anymore!’’ George shouted.

Thud. They turned around at the same time, shoulders glued together.

“D – Did you hear that?’’ Fred whispered.

George nodded, and swallowed hard. It felt like his heart was trying to run away without him.

‘’ROAR!’’ You jumped up behind them, slamming your hands between their shoulder blades.

The twins nearly fell and yelled so hard the birds around them awakened and took flight. Scrambling back up to their feet, they pointed their wands at you.

You doubled over in laughter, ‘’ Your – your faces! Brilliant!’’

Fred and George looked at each other, trying to make sense of what just happened, before joining in on the laughter.

‘’I’m never going to let you live this down,’’ you said, as you stepped in between them and steered them back to the campfire.

Oh, how Fred hoped you would jump out of hiding again to scare them.

‘’There,’’ Bill whispered, pointing at a dark lump in the distance.

Slowly, they made their way over. Arthur held his wand up, revealing the lump’s old and wrinkled face. ‘’Rookwood.’’

‘’Alive?’’ Fred asked.

Arthur bent down, checked Rookwood’s pulse, and shook his head.

‘’Well, (Y/n)’s got to be close then.’’ Fred said, hope appearing. He broke off from the group, trying to find a trace, when suddenly he got an idea.

‘’Accio (Y/n)’s wand,’’ he looked around him, waiting for movement. Anything.

Seconds seemed to last forever, when suddenly they heard the rustling of leaves to their right, and a-

‘’Ouch!’’ Bill cried, rubbing his cheek. Your wand had poked him, and then fallen to his feet before continuing its journey to Fred’s hand.

‘’Good thinking,’’ Arthur looked up to his son, pride swelling inside him.

They headed in the direction from which the wand came. Fred, holding his breath in anticipation, could almost see you jumping from a tree, when his foot kicked something. There lay what was left of a broom, scattered all over the forest ground, and drips of blood.

His eyes followed the trail of blood, and saw it disappear behind a large tree a few steps in front of him. He signaled to the others, pointing at the ground and the tree. Bill and Arthur nodded, following Fred.

They rounded the corner, and Fred gasped, making Bill and Arthur rush to his side.

There you sat, without movement, slumped against the tree; shirt soaked in blood, face scratched up, right arm at an odd angle.

Arthur cursed under his breath, rushed towards you, and checked your pulse.

‘’She’s alive, but we have to be quick, she’s soaked in blood,’’ Arthur breathed, ‘’her mother’s probably arrived by now.’’

There had only been a few times in Fred’s live when he was unable to produce any words. First George, now (Y/n) in an even worser state. Fred tried convincing himself: surely, her mother, head healer at St.Mungo’s, could mend her.

Arthur carefully scooped you up and they hurried back to the edge of the forest. He placed you on the Thestral in front of Bill, and with a great haste, they flew back to the Burrow.

---- George’s POV ----

Your mum was sitting at the kitchen table, an untouched cup of tea sitting in front of her. She had looked at George’s ear – or lack thereof, and concluded it was fine, and was now being comforted by Molly.

They’d been gone for almost an hour now, and George, even though his injury was screaming for it, was unable to get any rest. The rest of the family and member of the Order had been sitting in the living room, still processing Mad-Eye’s death, and pondering your whereabouts.

‘’Molly!’’ someone yelled from outside.

Everyone’s face shot up, and Molly had already scurried off to open the door, your mother right behind her.

George sat up and looked over the back of the couch, and time seemed to slow down; Arthur rushed in, you in his arms, covered in blood. He saw mouths move, but heard no words. Molly cleared the kitchen table, where you were laid down. Your mothers face in shock, but ready care for you.

George didn’t know when or how, but his legs had carried him towards the kitchen. Your name was sitting on his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out. Fred was now next to him, his hand on his shoulder.

Gashes and scratches all over your body, painting your clothes and skin red. He had to be dreaming, George thought. He’d fallen asleep – this was a nightmare. He’d wake up, and be told to get ready for Harry’s transport. Right?

His mother had taken him by the shoulders again, steering him towards the stairs, Fred following suit. ‘’Come on boys, let Anne do her job.’’

He didn’t want to go, he needed to be there for you, hold your hand - but his mother’s look told him not to try – Anne needed the quiet. Tears were pouring down his face again – how much more could he cry tonight?

Molly, eyes watery too, enveloped him in a hug, ‘’She’ll be okay dear – I promise, everything will be fine in the morning.’’

They let go, and George followed his brother up the stairs, the yearning for your comforting touch attracting all your memories together.

--- (Y/n)’s POV ---

Your eyelids were so heavy, it was as if someone had placed rocks on them. You focused on your other senses; bird song in the distance, a light breeze, heat – sunshine? Calmness, an early morning. To bask in its serenity, just for a moment longer, with your mind empty and thoughts far, far away.

You pried your eyes open, a room so familiar unfolding itself before you there was no way to keep the memories from flooding in; The Burrow – you were moving Harry.

You shot up at the thought, an awful pain shooting through your abdomen, reminding you of your encounter with the death eaters. Lifting your shirt, a scar running from side to side revealed itself.

‘’(Y/n)?’’ A soft whisper spoke behind you.

A pregnant pause occupied the room, before you turned around in your bed – with as much speed as the scar allowed.

His hair a tangled mess, bags under his eyes, but here, with you in the same room.

“Georgie…’’

He was in your arms in a second. Your bodies melted together, his usual warmth enveloping you like a fire in winter. Tears escaped your eyes as the just returned fear you’d felt was driven away by relief. If only you could stay like this.

He pulled away, sinking in your eyes. How scared he had been. How many silly jokes he had thought of in the past 24 hours to cheer you up once you came back to them; all forgotten at the sight of you conscious – safely in his arms.

You cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss, when you suddenly noticed a certain something missing. Worry must have crossed your face, as George grinned.

‘’I’m holy now, get it?’’

You smacked his chest, but couldn’t keep a laugh from escaping.

‘’Repeating jokes now are we, brother dearest?’’

Fred appeared in the doorway, a wide smile lifting his cheeks as he took at the two of you.

‘’Fred! Come here!’’ You waved him over, taking his hand as he got closer and sat down on the bed. He hugged you, a tad too strongly as a you felt your abdomen sting.

‘’Good thing you woke up so soon, (Y/n/n), George over here was becoming unbearable.’’ Fred joked, but you knew he was just as relieved as his twin, as he tried to wipe away a tear in secret.

The three of you laughed, and for a moment, it felt like just another one of your sleepovers. One like the many others you’d had in your 19 years of friendship; without worry, just excited to see what the next day would bring, no mention of war in sight.

George took your hand. ‘’You’re mother’s downstairs in the garden. Should I call her up?’’

You shook your head. ‘’Help me get down, I want to see the rest.’’

Fred and George helped you up, and half leaning on George, you made your way down, Fred parading in front joyfully announcing your arrival.

George grinned down at you, ‘’Told you you’d have me back in no time.’’

A playful gasp escaped your lips. ‘’Why yes, no time and a couple of scars.’’

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #harry potter imagine #weasley twins #harry potter #George Weasley one shot #george weasley fanfic #Harry Potter fanfic #Harry Potter fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #harry potter headcanon #hp imagine #hp #gw x reader #gw #weasley

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braindeacl · 3 years

Text

Frostbite | Eilidh & Miriam

TIMING: Weeks ago. PARTIES: @meflemming & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh and Miriam find a great feast after a sudden blast of cold. WARNINGS: Lots of corpse eating.

White. It covered the streets. The buildings. The people. Everything was lost to the white. A blanket thrown down by the heavens, suffocating everything under its might. The streets and the buildings had no chance, locked in place by their very nature. They accepted their—stood brave against the frost and waited for the melt to break its hold. The people had hope, and for some this hope was justified. As the first white specks fell to the ground, many scurried away. To safety. But the specks soon turned to a pour soon turned to an onslaught. By then, the few who remained had nowhere to go. Stuck in place. Same as the streets and the buildings. But the melt would not free them, only their corpses. The first of these deaths sent an alluring perfume in the air. Calling to Eilidh. Tugging at that hunger that always gnawed no matter how much she fed, only the intensity could be changed. By the time she came upon the scene, the body’s core had turned a pale blue. But the paleness shifted to darkness along the extremities. Darker and darker and darker still. Until the fingers and the toes were a pitch black. Bubbling and breaking along the utmost tips. Lost to the ever encompassing white.

But Eilidh had no mind for details. Death was all she saw, all she needed to see. Without a thought, her teeth disrupted the scene—broke off more pieces of that brittle body. It cracked and crunched and crumpled against her teeth. Tumbled down her throat like dirt. But filled her all the same. The face and an arm were lost to her insides by the time she returned from the thrall of death. With a new shine to her eyes, she surveyed the area. The truth of the situation becoming apparent. Others shambled through the snow—still clinging to a slipping sense of hope. Others were stilled except for the slow and rhythmic rises of their chests—soon to be like the mangled pile of flesh below her. A source of pain and agony for them. A source of a buffet for her. But confliction tore at her soul. For those who still fought against the creeping death. She rushed over to one. Wishing to grip them back to salvation. But fingers grasped that cold air as the person fell to the ground. Landing as a corpse. And that confliction gave way to the hunger again.

It was so cold that frost was beginning to form on Miriam’s skin. Not what she expected for a midsummer night, but, really, she had grown up in White Crest; she knew just as well as any of the locals that the expected was to never be expected. So, when a freak blizzard came out of nowhere in the dead of night, she took it in stride. She ended up stuck in it, She managed to break free, one leather covered arm pushing its way out of the snow, and Miriam stood, brushed the snow off, and began walking. The effort reminded her of how long it had been since she’d gone out and fed, an increased workload as well as a desire to spend time with her favorite person keeping her from sustaining herself properly. But it didn’t matter. Miriam could practically taste so much misery on her tongue that she wouldn’t have been able to avoid it even if she tried. Heels crunching through the snow, she headed towards the source. She just wasn’t expecting the carnage that greeted her. “I suppose I’m interrupting dinner, aren’t I?” She asked the zombie feasting, an icy eyebrow raised as she moved her hands to her hair and shook crystalline flakes of snow out of it.

Silence was cut off abruptly by that casual tone. Calm like the blanket of snow surrounding—snuffing out any touch of chaos. Eilidh stopped, spit out a tooth. Not hers—the poor sap’s on the ground. She turned to meet the woman’s eyes. They were cold like the air, but untouched by it. Unlike all the others whose lives were sucked out like the previous heat. Clearly the other wasn’t human. And human suffering and slaughter was not a bother. She wasn’t like Eilidh—hunger did not compel the other’s teeth to bite and gnaw like it did to her. Curious. Her teeth bared for a moment, animal protecting its food. But the other made no motions, and teeth were replaced with tongue. It licked at her lips, removing some of the dark crusts of blood and flesh bits. But it hardly made a difference—her face and neck and arms were caked in the stuff. Not that she particularly cared. The other seemed to place more interest in her looks. Genuine leather ensemble paired with impractical heels. Her face the most evident of this interest, and Eilidh took interest in turn looking. She let out an airy chuckle. “Not really. What brings you here? Hungry, too?”

The woman was a mess. Miriam had never seen such a messy eater, though, it wasn’t like she was around too many zombies who feasted upon anything more than animal brains cooked or blended into smoothies. And she had to assume that this was a zombie. The lack of heartbeat was, of course, quintessential for one of the undead, but the consumption of flesh, along with the blunt teeth, leaned more towards the walking dead end of the spectrum. “I suppose I was a bit peckish,” Miriam mused. “I was led here because of all the suffering.” It might not make sense, but that was what Miriam craved more than any sort of blood. She felt full, though, empowered in ways that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Mass misery, mass suffering. It sustained her. She looked at her new companion. “My, you’re a messy eater.”

“Ah. Sadist.” Not uncommon in this town, Eilidh had come to realize. Won’t find her complaining—it kept the food ripe. Head tilted at the thought, as she eyed the woman deeper. A waste of a beautiful face, though she’s wasted prettier. But she reminded herself the woman had done nothing. At least, not in front of her. Quick headshake threw that fuzz from her mind. Returning her back to herself. To the easy food surrounding. Motionless, as it seemed the last survivors were gone to the frost or soon approaching. There was a sadness. A wish for a different outcome. But fate decided their time was now. And so graciously decided the two of them would enjoy the spoils. There was nothing to do now but feed and not let their sacrifice go to waste. She broke off a finger; it came off like peanut brittle with a snap. It went into her mouth. That mouth came alive with snaps as her teeth chomped down and down and down. It crumbled on her lips, covered her in more mess. She shrugged at the observation, uncaring. “Food should be enjoyed. Plenty to go ‘round.”

“No, not a sadist,” Miriam said, and she didn’t know why she was so offended by that word. She wasn’t a sadist. The only times she’d ever really, properly enjoyed what she’d done had been killing Theo. But that wasn’t true, was it? She’d cried while she’d killed him, while the overwhelming misery and suffering that he’d felt had sustained her, while she’d turned his skin into a jacket. Miriam allowed her eyes to flash red at the woman in front of her and let her fangs drop. “Just a woman with an incredibly unfortunate set of dietary needs. Tragically, tragedy becomes me.” She looked at the way the woman ate a finger, her face momentarily twisting into something that wasn’t quite but could be very close to disgust. She’d made a mess during her own first large blood meals, but this really was ridiculous. “No, thank you. I think I’ll just take in the misery for now. I don’t enjoy blood slushies.”

Eilidh’s attention snapped back to the woman at her shift in tone. Understanding followed when eyes turned crimson, and teeth turned sharp. There was a shift in her head, a small nod in acknowledgment. “Ah, Dearg-Due.” Arguably tragic, for their name was born from it, as too were they. But Eilidh did not entirely think so—head tilting inquisitively at the revealing display. The woman didn’t share in her curiosity, face squinting in distaste to Eilidh’s own revealing nature. No offense was taken. Instead, Eilidh chomped harder. More gore bits tumbled down, as mischief shined in her eyes. Waiting for the squint to harden on the other’s face. “Don’t think there’s much left. Just the quiet.” As if to purposefully refute her, motion was detected a few meters away. Car door beat and beat and beat against the pile of snow, until it managed to be pushed away. Short, shivered gasps filled the air. Eilidh immediately sat up straighter at the occurrence, gaze locked where she believed the unseen survivor to be. Someone had managed to make it out!

A dearg-due. Miriam looked at this strange woman, not really understanding what she meant and hating that fact. “Right. A dearg-due.” A word that she’d have to look up on her own time, but, perhaps, something of import. Maybe a step closer to not feeling like she was stumbling through this wretched unlife without any sort of instruction manual. She narrowed her eyes at the other woman before rolling them and snorting, a most unladylike sound that she truthfully didn’t care about in present company. “There’s always a little left until it’s absolutely still,” she said, her ears picking up on the sound of a struggling heartbeat before the zombie’s head had even turned. With eyes the color of the blood spilled in the snow, Miriam looked at the man that was struggling, suffering, trying so, so hard to live. His cries were the most dreadful music, a delightful meal. She wanted it to stop. She was lithe on her feet and she made her way towards him, and her hand wrapped around his neck faster than he could blink. “Shh, it’ll be over soon,” she soothed, and she moved her hand, took a bite. It had been some time since she’d had blood straight from the source, and it was still warm, despite the chill in the air. By the time Miriam was done, there wasn’t much left of the man’s neck. She wiped at her face, her chin. She looked back at the zombie. “I suppose I’m a bit of a mess as well.”

Eilidh’s feet had barely become reacquainted with the ground when the Dearg-Due made her way. Hand gripped tight, threatening to suck out his life. But teeth worked faster. By the time Eilidh was close enough to make out his features, last drops of that life trickled away. Left a red stain on the snow. Left a space for the sadness to return. But it too trickled away, lost to the fog she carried so well. Reverting to a stillness. A deep silence. Where not even a heartbeat could be found, for the two standing had none to spare. Until a chuckle broke it—brought some semblance of life back to the white expanse of the dead. “Ah. You do like blood slushies.” The other’s mouth dripped in the last of that man’s warmth—red blotches against the once spotless mold. But found herself enjoying the sight, more than before. Always an admirer of those with the touch of the wild. “Looks better. One more meal. Might even be stunning.” Like her, with fragments of bodies littering her face and chest, as it did the ground. Stained by that dark, crimson death.

Wiping at the corners of her mouth as they ticked upwards ever so slightly, Miriam licked the blood off her thumb as she said, “Not quite a blood slushie. He was still lukewarm, at the least.” Amusement and disgust warred within her, both at the bloodbath as well as the woman in front of her. She was no different, now, really, blood on her face, a body in front of her. And she was still thirsty, so thirsty, the kind of thirst that, for once, couldn’t be tamed by misery. It was likely that the bags of blood in her home wouldn’t help much, either. She managed a laugh, though. “I think we have different thoughts on the word stunning, sweetness.” She was still thirsty. She said, “I’m not one to overindulge.”

Tongue clicked in a baby’s attempt of disappointment. One that held no power, with a touch of humor. But the feeling did linger on the surface. Eilidh simply shrugged at the dismissal. “Only the greedy do.” There was a curious quirk of her brow, noting a strange expression on the other’s face. Causation could not be placed, but assumption was the feast had put the woman in a wild state of mind. Eilidh could certainly relate. Such a state told her to keep feeding, despite the all-consuming hunger being placated. To eat until satisfied instead of simply sated. Eyes focused intently on the recently deceased, whose flesh was still soft and tender and untouched by the stiffness of death and cold. Mouth salivated in turn. Hungry teeth had only ripped out a few mouthfuls when a new distraction arose. A sudden sound in the distance. Unknown but clearly approaching. Another predator? An oblivious local? A hunter? She hissed at the third suggestion, not wanting to deal with that ilk. Body lowered, fingers tensed, preparing for that encroaching mystery.

“Well, then, here’s to not being greedy, hm?” But Miriam was still feeling that tell-tale tinge of bloodlust under the surface, ever present but growing now. It had been so long since she’d fed properly. So long. And she wasn’t starving by any means, and she wasn’t going to complain about it, but, damn, when Miriam used to feed like this, she was ravenous. In the 90s, she’d slaughtered multiple people at a time as a result of her thirst for blood and pain. It would last for hours, only satisfied when she was surrounded by bodies. Much as she was now, but these weren’t bodies of her making. One just wasn’t enough. She heard the sound of a car door slam, saw blue sirens just ahead of them, smelled someone as they approached. Miriam didn’t think. The officer was dead before she properly arrived on the scene, and Miriam ripped her throat before she could make so much as a gurgle. This was warm blood, delicious as it soothed the ache inside her that she hadn’t even noticed. How was Miriam supposed to notice when she neglected this side of herself so thoroughly? She didn’t know. She looked up at her new companion and straightened once more, washing the blood from her face and hands with the snow. The entire altercation had been quick, so quick. Miriam wasn’t one for apologies. She rarely apologized. That was how she was raised. However, she did manage to say, “I’m not normally this…” her lips twitched, “emphatic.”

The situation seemed remedied, as the vampire charged at that approaching commotion. Reduced to gurgles and silence, a seeping redness behind abandoned vehicles. Eilidh feasted as well, hardly one to neglect the hunger. Stripping more of that first kill’s recognizability. Turned from man to meat in tattered clothes. Enough to doubt it was ever a man at all. Calming the pestering part of her mind lost to the fog. She sucked on her own fingers, removing viscera clinging between wrinkles and under nails. Nothing gone to waste. She turned in time to meet her carnage companion. Both stained and dripping in fresh blood. The other trying to hide this fact, transferring blame onto the snow. Eilidh made no such motion, almost wearing it with pride. “Should try it some more. Looks like you enjoy it.” Her attention shifted to what lay behind, the cause of interruption. Lone police car illuminated in that swirl of blue and red, still waiting for its passenger. “Well, they never send just one. ‘Bout to be crawling with ‘em now.” Head tilted at a consideration—to lie in wait for the food to come. But enough death had touched these lands in one night. And, of course, she wasn’t greedy. She gripped onto the remains of that mangled corpse—lugged it onto her shoulder. Before taking her leave, she addressed the woman cut of similar clothe. “What should I call you, lady of blood?”

Having never really eaten with a zombie before, Miriam couldn’t quite contain the look of horrified fascination. Really, she’d never seen anyone eat with such gusto, not even at dinner parties her parents hosted years and years ago. Maybe Miriam just wasn’t used to watching other undead eat. Not entire bodies, at least, and not like that. It was fascinating, certainly, but it was also unnerving. Not scary, just strange. Unusual. Unnatural. But, then again, they were dead. There hadn’t been anything natural about them since their hearts stopped beating. “Darling, if I indulged like this all the time, we wouldn’t have a town left. I prefer to keep my meals light.” Two people in a matter of minutes was quite the loss of life, even if Miriam was certain the one would have died from the cold. The other was just a casualty of every awful thing that had been growing inside of Miriam unchecked for some time now, she’d need to be more careful. She wiped her hands off on her pants, now free of blood and viscera. “My friends call me Mim, though Miri is fine as well. I own the leather shop in town,” Miriam said, a smile on her lips. “What should I call you, oh mighty finder of finger foods?”

Eilidh’s breath rushed out her nose in a near snort. “Only if you’re picky. Find deer to be just as satisfying. Gives a better chase.” And lacked that sense of… She did not want to place a name. To those emotions that tried to surface at times of feeding. A tainting born from James’ pleasantries. It had been easier in the times before. And when she found herself with those like Mim, twins of that primal nature, some of that ease could be found. Of course, judgement had been placed on her, from that kindred companion. But now, with no sense to hide the parts society deemed too dark and twisted, she only saw a fascination from the other woman. She smiled, revealing a bit of discolored skin lodged between incisors. It grew a smidgen wider, at that fun nickname. Made her consider ripping off a dead finger and chomping down in reinforcement. “Dia dhuit, Mim.” She let out a gentle chuckle. “Guess this means we’re friends. Mine call me many things. Call me Ellie.” Sirens tore her attentions. She saw more swirls of blue and red bouncing off distant walls, but creeping ever closer. As did those shrieking sounds—building on each other into a single blasting. Arm securing her haul grew tighter. Squeezing out those last drops of blood it had managed to hold drizzling down her shoulder. “Better scamper. ‘Till the next.” And she disappeared into the trees.

#wickedswriting #frostbite #chatzy #;— interactions #ft. miriam f.

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

Text

Holding Me Holding You [Ch. 3]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

[Ao3 Link]

It takes him a cursedly long time to decide that being useless is unacceptable. Carefully, he steps around the weeping boy to retrieve his guqin from his table, settle on the bed, set it across his knees, and play. He begins with a quiet song of calming, feeding gentle power through the chords, the intention of calm and ease. His eyes are on Lan Fu’s back, watching as the stuttering sobs slow, as he rubs his eyes, wipes his nose on the carpet. Sniffs.

Xichen can still see the occasional flash of his eyelashes as he blinks--still awake. And so he continues, transitioning easily into one of the lullabies his mother had sung him, a song about the moon and a crane and loneliness. He had never been able to find it in any traveling musician’s repertoire, nor in the Lan archives. (Perhaps she had written it. She had had the time.)

Its familiarity sinks into his aching muscles and sodden mind like the memory of her warm hands, her tilted smile, the scent of the incense in the Jingshi. I know, he tries to lace into the song, as if he could speak directly to the boy’s soul instead of his young mind. This feeling you miss, I know. I’m so sorry.

She had always been able to calm them when they cried.

He watches when Lan Fu’s breathing evens as he bridges into a melancholy Gusu melody and he chances to slow his fingers and soften the plucks. When the song hangs unresolved in the middle of a phrase and the child remains unmoving, he lifts him from the floor as painstakingly careful as he can and tucks him back into his little barricade of bedclothes. Lan Fu doesn’t even twitch and something like relief trickles through him.

Now, Xichen’s fingers buzz from the memory of song and the quiet of the night is now worming its dark tendrils into his ears.

Alone.

Being from the Lan Clan, things like solitude and silence should be old companions, as familiar as the clear mountain air. But tonight, they simply remind him of death. The silence of wonderless snowfall. A hollow too cold to glean rest. The silencing talismans still glow from the corners of the house, therefore he is disturbing no one by breaking the rule of curfew. Though his eyes are coals burning dully in their sockets, sleep is not returning--and he would be sorrier if it didn’t hold the promise of more restless nightmares in its depths.

And so he meditates instead. He continues to play, without design, letting his hands lead and the practice of sinking into himself is good enough to take the ragged burn off the edge of existing, flow and breath to focus on instead of inadequacy. In and out. Down and through. The tangled panic of the horrible screaming fit fades like a painting, flat, distant. Like a whetstone for his mind, a methodical sharpening--he cannot be useful if he neglects his focus. He still feels like a leaden mass of cotton wool and too tight skin that’s been given a thorough beating, but the calming of his qi is helping, however marginally.

His fingers wander over the lullaby again, turning the ghost of his mothers voice over in his mind carefully, like cloth worn thin by handling. Breathe. Let it slip away.

The Song of Clarity crests too brightly and so sinks into the song of laying spirits to rest, rippling out in muted twilight tones. For those I could not save. For those who cannot find rest.

Wei Wuxian’s red rimmed eyes and awful, mirthless laugh creep into his mind’s eye, and the dark waters of the song bubble with the feeling of loss and regret, the surface darting with shadows of anger and fear and uncertainty and--

He takes a breath. Lets it go. Continues. And for him. For who he once was. For who he is to Wangji.

Perhaps it is unfair to extend such a softness to the Yiling Patriarch. A betrayal to the hundreds upon hundreds who lay dead, the hundreds more who are now bereft; parentless, childless, weeping. Alone. Xichen still holds the taint of his power as a burn in his lungs, in his wounds. Perhaps this impulse is why tragedy keeps befalling the Lan while they are under his care. But he can’t help himself. Xichen had known the boy laughing and teasing, had known him bruisingly arrogant without a shred of ill intent, had known him sunny and whole and by Wangji’s side, in his thoughts.

For him, then. For that boy. For what he had meant.

Gone, too, now.

Breathe.

The memory of Wangji’s fear, etched more deeply than anything Xichen could recall on his face, the utter agony--

This aches too deeply, the heat of it tightening around his throat, and so he, too, lets that go, for now. Just for now. Breathe.

His fingers trip over the strings on their own, formless, plucking sound from nothing. Some time ago, his eyes had closed.

He longs for daylight and voices. Warmth.

Warmth.

The notes are a repetitive little rivulet.

Gold. Hair hot from the sun. Gentle, smooth mouths. Laughter.

Da-ge. A-Yao.

That ache in him flares anew. He wants them. He wants them to hold him. He can almost feel A-Yao’s hands, soft but strong, cradling his face, smelling of jasmine and him. Breathing deep only brings sandalwood incense and the oil for his guqin strings, but even remembering loosens his chest. Breathe.

The stream of notes is tumbling slower and slower, spaces widening. They mean something….

Mingjue would take him in his arms, let him rest, let him melt onto him, warm and sturdy and familiar...he would be safe...held...loved….

The notes are words. The guqin language. I miss you. I miss you. I….

Something brushes over the back of his hand and Xichen startles upright, groggily. But it had been his own hair lowered by his dipping head. Shaking himself, he sits up straight. Incorrect posture, imperfect meditation. Selfish daydreaming.

Start again.

When the hour to wake comes, his fingers are raw and his back and neck are knotted like a gnarled tree, but it is enough. He can rise and do this, because he must.

Lan Fu stirs after Xichen has bathed, dressed, and set out food on the table. The calming effects of the guqin playing still seem to lay over the child and though his fingers throb, Xichen feels a distant gladness. It had not been quelling a ghost or a puppet or an imp. Just a boy.

A boy who will apparently eat nothing but bread. “Some congee?” Xichen offers almost desperately for the fourth time this meal.

Lan Fu gnaws on one of the buns that he has in each hand, staring at him blearily with no further response. Of all the trials he has faced the past few days, this seems like it should be the most easily conquerable and yet Xichen retreats again to nurse his steaming cup. The tea is scalding and strong and he can feel it's energizing work seeping through his blood. Much needed, because Xichen is realizing that he has the tendency to slowly spiral and sink down into himself whenever he stays still too long. He needs to be afloat and alert. He downs the cup, and pours another. Lan Fu is watching him closely. Doggedly, he drains 2 more and is pouring a fourth when the child scrunches his fingers in the universally recognized ‘give me’ gesture. "Wanna?" he says through a mouth full of bun.

Xichen folds into a tired smile. "You won't like it. It’s too bitter."

This produces an insistent whine and a two handed reach, the buns falling, neglected, to his plate. "Yucky," Xichen insists, but finds himself reaching for a spare cup, into which he dribbles a negligible amount of tea before handing it to the child. “Swallow first.”

Eagerly, Lan Fu tips it into his mouth. Then screws up his face in the most comical display of dismay Xichen has ever seen and spits messily onto his plate. “Eeyurk!”

Despite himself, a laugh breaks from Xichen. “I did tell you. Yucky.”

“Yucky,” Lan Fu echoes, sticking his tongue out. He’s reaching for the buns again when Xichen is suddenly struck by a nostalgic bolt of inspiration from when Wangji had been a terribly picky eater. He presses his fingers and thumb together to form a rudimentary little head that he pokes up beside the child to use like a mouth to speak.

“Hello.”

The boy looks quickly to Xichen’s face, eyes round and mouth agape, expression clearly asking; ‘are you seeing this?’ Xichen mirrors his astonishment, eyebrows raised, as if, he too, can hardly believe it. Lan Fu returns to staring at the hand-head.

“I’m Chatty Hand. What’s your name?”

“A-Fu.”

“Are you hungry, A-Fu?”

Immediately, chubby little hands fasten on the flat blade of Xichen’s pressed fingers, Chatty Hand’s “top jaw”, slow delight spreading across his face. “Nuh-uh.”

“I’m starving--let’s eat together! Here--” with A-Fu’s hands still attached, Chatty Hand lowers itself and pretends to munch on the congee growing cold in front of him. “Mmmm, yum. You try.”

A-Fu grins and pushes the hand back down to his bowl with enough force to drown it. Chatty Hand complies, making more exaggerated sounds of satisfaction. After this happens another 2 times instead of actual eating, Chatty Hand grabs the spoon in its ‘mouth’, scoops up a little congee, and bobs up to A-Fu’s face. “Open up!” it chirps.

Thankfully the boy does and proceeds to chew on it with his mouth wide open after it’s poured in, a fact which Xichen is both too exhausted and too willing to accept literally any victory to amend, right now. The rest of the meal follows suit, Chatty Hand feeding food bits to an incredibly entertained A-Fu. A few times, the child makes his own little imperfect pincer of his first 3 fingers and holds things up to Xichen’s mouth, which he obediently takes with proper appreciative ‘mm’ noises.

Chatty Hand had always made Wangji smile when they were young. In some strange, sleep deprived way, it was almost nice to see it again.

After a rather perfunctory bath that was full of far more splashing than Xichen was used to, he is dressing the boy when he looks at the door with sudden understanding and asks with excitement, “Niang?”

With difficulty, Xichen forces a small smile and ties his little shirt closed. “I’m going to take you to be with some friends. Does that sound nice? You can play.”

Thankfully, A-Fu simply nods and goes back to attempting to undo all the laces that Xichen has just fastened.

When they finally leave, A-Fu in Xichen’s arms, they find that the day is the sort with gray, misting rain which leave parasols useless and beads in fine little droplets along A-Fu’s downy hair and face, leaving him blinking. Xichen smiles and carefully wipes his face clean with his sleeve and allows himself a wave of fond sadness at the door of the temporary house for newly orphaned Lan children. While it had been fraught and exhausting, being able to care for this little armful of life in the midst of this crisis had also been...grounding. And he is unbearably sweet.

But every excuse was gone, now, and it’s time.

When they go inside, A-Fu is clearly unconvinced. He stands, clutching the leg of Xichen’s robes with an iron grip and staring at the handful of older women and the tumble of children under their care. (There are more than a dozen of them. The grief in Xichen’s chest tightens its grip around his heart.) A few of the caregivers beckon to A-Fu, holding out toys and Xichen nods with an encouraging smile when his serious little face turns up to him in question. It takes several minutes but, warily, he ventures over, step by uncertain, clunky toddler step to sit and becomes enraptured with a little doll one of the women holds out to him. He even smiles when a little girl rolls a ball toward him. All is going perfectly.

It’s when Xichen has given all the information he knows about A-Fu--his parentage, his peculiarities, his fondness for buns--and turns to slip out that a familiar cry shatters the scene and has him going still.

Xichen should go. He should go out the door and continue his day. These are experienced caregivers, mothers and grandmothers--they know how to calm a fussing child. A-Fu will be happy, he will be cared for, he will be better off--

Instead, he turns, slowly. A-Fu charges straight into his shins, hands scrabbling as he wails, “No no no! No go!”

“A-Fu--”

“No! P’ease!”

Why was that ‘please’ just as effective as a knife to the heart? It sways him sickeningly. All the other children are staring at them with huge, frightened eyes, uncertain.

“Up! Up, p’ease! No go! Up!” He’s bouncing on his toes, hands thrust up at Xichen desperately. His face is terror stricken, crumpling.

It’s alright. Xichen can try to explain to him. Can at least give him a proper goodbye. He kneels as several of the women converge on them, speaking in soothing voices.

“Xiao-Fu, why don’t you--”

“Shhh, not so loud, come here, zongzhu has a lot of work to do, we can’t bother him--”

A-Fu is attempting to climb him, latching onto his neck with an almost choking grip, feet scrabbling on his chest to get better purchase and, automatically, Xichen wraps his arms around him for support. The child is shuddering, crying again. “A-Fu, why don’t you go play with your friends?” He murmurs, rubbing his back slowly.

“No. No,” he moans back, refusing to raise his face from Xichen’s neck.

“They have toys and food and games, here.”

“Yes, look!” One of the women beams, the expression overbright on her exhausted face, and twirls a shiny something on a stick, making it flutter.

Another slides her hands around A-Fu’s torso, gently attempting to pry him off and he lets out the most earsplitting wordless shriek into Xichen’s neck, loud enough to send shards of pain through his head and, automatically, his arms clamp back around him, halting her progress. A-Fu’s frantic noise has his own pulse up, thanks to the excess of morning tea and nausea sheers its way through him, driving up a useless wave of anxiety and helplessness and what is he doing, what is he doing--

“It’s fine,” he manages to say with startling calm. “I think he just needs time. It’s fine. I can keep him with me for now.”

“Zongzhu, we know you’re very busy, are you sure? Xiao-Fu, don’t you want to come play with your friends?”

He keeps rubbing A-Fu’s back as he stands. It makes his head spin but he smiles with what he hopes is reassurance. “He didn’t trouble me yesterday. We can try again later. It’s fine.” He distantly notes that keeps saying that.

This is selfish, he knows. He knows the boy should be with people who know how to take care of him, who can entertain him, who can maybe bear to properly explain to him that his mother isn’t coming home. He just...can’t stand any more screaming. He wishes it was empathy but fears it's something closer to cowardice, but, in any case, it's easier. Kinder. (He hopes. It's hard to tell.) And he truly doesn't mind. The inertia of him had helped thus far.

It’s alright. It’s what it needs to be, right now. There is nothing for it.

Once they leave to start Xichen’s duties, it becomes clear quite quickly that the previous arrangement of A-Fu slung on his back is no longer satisfactory, as A-Fu keeps crying and squirming. After some trial and error, Xichen manages to fashion a rudimentary harness out of the same sash that fastens A-Fu to his chest, facing out to take in his surroundings. He likes to hold onto Xichen’s thumbs as he walks.

Visiting Wangji is...disheartening. He is no worse, but neither is he much better. His bedclothes are thankfully clean of blood and Xichen accepts this as the gift that it is. But he is still unconscious, still white lipped, hot skinned, and breathing unevenly. The unknown boy nestled on a smaller mattress on the floor next to him is no better. In fact, he’s crying in his sleep, tiny, weak little whimpers that tear at Xichen’s chest. So he kneels beside him, using the cloth and bowl of water left by the doctor to wipe his damp forehead. “Sad,” Lan Fu remarks, pointing at him, craning his neck around to look up at Xichen’s face. He, himself, is thankfully calm, now.

Xichen nods, pats A-Fu’s chest in acknowledgment, peels the hair wisps off of the sick boy’s sweaty neck. He wishes he knew what to call him. Wangji would know. When the child’s face and neck is cleaned of sweat and he is tucked back in, Xichen sits on Wangji’s bedside, ignoring the burning pull the position puts on his neck from A-Fu’s weight on his chest, and allows himself to stroke the hair back from his brother’s face as well.

Perhaps Wangji would not want it--he was particular about touch. Perhaps he would resent Xichen for his part in all that has happened.

But for now, he simply lets himself sit and methodically smooth his hair. When Wangji sleeps and that austere expression is gone from his face, Xichen can see reflections of their mother in his brows and nose. Can see echoes of what he remembered of his father in his hairline and jaw. Most of all, though, Xichen can see A-Zhan, the boy that had let Xichen care for him, once upon a time. He couldn’t miss his brother if he was right in front of him, but he could surely miss the ease with which Wangji used to lean on him. Miss what he had meant.

He lets out a shaky breath, carefully.

Please don’t leave me. Please. Please.

Holding the order of what must be done in his mind is a bit like grasping at water by midday and whatever clarity his meditation had brought him is quickly being dulled by the grate of exhaustion. It feels as if everything is balancing on the thin edge of a knife--the Clan’s morale, Wangji and the child’s health, the future, the next necessary step. Treacherous ground. Continuously wobbling. He is failing, again. Failing to do what is necessary simply because his mind and body refuse to cooperate.

When he requests a stimulant from their lead doctor, there is no hesitation and, in fact, he pulls it from his inner pocket. Xichen frowns. “Please make sure that you are also taking care of yourself,” he cautions. “We cannot have you falling ill at a time like this.”

The doctor bows and raises his eyebrows, but says nothing. Xichen isn’t stupid, even as he swallows the concoction and thanks him politely. He’s aware of his own pallor and dark circles--had been confronted with them in his mirror this morning. He can feel the grinding ache behind his eyes, the very weight of his own body attempting to drag him down to simply curl up in the dirt. He is aware of the hypocrisy, here; especially when he worries so when A-Yao does the same, staying up for days until he’s strung out and shaking. Until Xichen has to beg him to come to bed or he simply physically can’t go on any longer.

He knows it’s unhealthy. He knows it’s not ideal. But there is just...nothing else that he can do. It is a morbid balancing act he is performing and with any one component removed, he feels as if he might spiral out into some yawning void of...something. Despair? Helplessness? Madness? Simply keep moving. Simply be useful. Take the next step.

The rest can come later.

#BRO I feel so fucking smart--I imported the html from AO3 into the HTML formatting here and it KEPT ALL THE ITALICS #AAAAAAAAAAH #Also do not be fooled by the concentration of relatively fluffy stuff in this #The next chapter is going to be :) not that #3zun raise jingyi au #3zun raise jingyi au content #my stuff #my fic #okay not THAT smart the formatting still fucked up

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