#Now lets all collectively work on bleaching it out of our minds forever okay

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Forever Fifteen

Levihan | Part I of Good Bones | written for Levihan Week 2021- Memory (day 6)

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33635872

“Hello stranger…”

Hanji doesn’t have to look behind her to know who it is. Already, she’s pulling a cigarette case from the inner pocket of her jacket. She holds one out to her side, and with a brush of cold fingers against hers, it’s gone. Her heart beats out of her chest.

Oh be still! We’ve been through this before! This should be as mundane as- doing the laundry.

She turns to face him, scanning him from his nice dress shoes to the way his hair is slicked back, an exaggerated simper on her face.

“What’s a handsome stranger like you doing in a place like this?”

He scoffs. “The party’s not over yet…”

“I know…” she replies, tilting her head to get a better look at her company. “I’m just watching…”

He follows her gaze to the courtyard below the balconies, to where Jean is sitting with Mikasa. Just- talking.

“Happened right under our noses…” Hanji chuckles. Oh right… she mutters when Levi gestures for the light. There’s a little fumbling because of Hanji’s penchant for pockets, but she finds the box of matches eventually. She strikes one and holds it close to Levi. A bright little light that burns embers into the greys of his eyes. The dark circles under his eyes have made a permanent home under his skin, and there are now lines carved into the shadows. When did those get there?

As always, Levi is the first to look away.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that would you?” He raises a brow.

Jean is now laughing at something. Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance. In the many years he has known these damned kids, he hasn’t once laughed at anything Mikasa has to say. Jean must be a fool then. Jean is a fool because he listens too well to Hanji. Listens when she tells him he should go for it if that’s what he wants. Tell her a good pickup line, swap a few jokes, share a little fruitcake. Easy.

Hanji gasps dramatically, “as Commander of the Survey Corps, I would like to remind you that I am well aware of the policy against fraternisation!”

“That never stopped you…” Levi answers. But oh it has. The people who knew them as lovers are now dust. And now the rumours speak for them, past prefixed to lovers as a way to explain the familiarity, as a way to grow the distance.

Oh it has stopped them.

“Never stopped you either… If only they knew the great Captain Levi wrote crazy ol’ Hanji Zoë a love letter in his youth…” Hanji chuckles, a little too brave so it must be the alcohol, because she feels anything but brave lately. Her laughter is a little too bright for the night. A little too beautiful and familiar that it makes Levi smile. There’s a spray of pink on his cheekbones. The thought of people knowing the details is mortifying to say the least. But no one will know. This secret will be buried in a shared grave. A cosy little grave that gets a little damp in the summer. But they’ll brave the heat. Good things happen in the sun. Good for the linens too. Just- not good enough to untether the smell of Hanji’s skin from the fabric of his sheets.

“Do you remember what was in that letter?” She continues.

He doesn’t look at her now. His gaze is fixed on Jean’s fidgeting and he thinks of his own attempts at romance. His own little love story that blossomed beautifully and died tragically as they grew older. When they were put in charge for lives outside their own. When Erwin had named Hanji the next in line for the cursed role of Commander. One last night with her. One kiss and a handshake and a- hello stranger, my name is Hanji Zoë.

Levi. He had replied, just Levi.

He remembers Pyxis’ smug little “maybe your boyfriend can help with the mission” and Hanji’s vacuous, unthinking “oh he’s not my boyfriend anymore…”. The look on Pyxis’ face had been one for the books- a genuine surprise from coming by two pieces of information. So they are exes. The rumours were true. Menacing Levi and Kooky Zoë. Levi had launched a kick at Hanji’s shin under the table. Never in Levi’s life had he wished so much for the earth to swallow him whole.

“No…”

He says. It’s not lying if she knows what he really means. If she can tell, between each drag of her cigarette, what he’s thinking.

And she can. Oh she can.

He lets the memory dance across his eyes. That night at the pub, two kids puffing out their chests so they wouldn’t rouse suspicions (not that people care much in the Underground), listening to the men sing songs about love. Oh what Levi would give be young again. To look at Hanji, really look at her for the first time and have his mind play static on loop. To realise that for the rest of his life he’ll only be mesmerised by her.

She chuckles. Another drag of her cigarette, two taps to watch the ash drip. A wink.

“We must be getting old then, Levi…” She says, “in a few years we’ll be a couple of old prunes, you and I…”

Levi smiles at her. He’s never really thought about the mechanics of growing old. But he thinks the image is nice. Of Hanji tracing pruny fingers along the length of his pruny skin where the crescent scars sit in the leather of his skin. And he’ll remind her of the time when they kids, because that’s what old couples do right? Tease each other endlessly, talk about the ambiguity of the good old days, reminisce over long walks? Levi wants the complete works. He laughs to himself, a private little joke that simmers to a murmur-

Four-eyed prune…

It’s a little later when Hanji decides maybe it’s time to stop eavesdropping and get back to the party. The musicians announce the last dance of the night. The trumpets trail after the saxophone and the sound is something grand. And Hanji asks Levi if he wants to dance, because she’s a sucker for romantics, even though she’ll never admit it. And she knows Levi is too. And Hanji thinks life must still be pretty sweet if she’s dancing with her ex lover with a sea of memories between them and the abject refusal to explicate the boundaries of exes. Because it’s hard to forget. Because it’s hard to wash your lover’s scent from your sheets. No matter how hard you scrub, no matter how much the sunlight eats at the fabric and bleaches it. So much so that Hanji thinks it’s all in her head. The smell of his skin, the taste of cigarettes on his tongue- he only smokes with her, only with her- the ghost of his breath against the shell of her ear.

And Levi’s heart is beating out his chest.

Oh be still! We’ve been through worse! We scrubbed at the sheets until our fingers were raw and pruny, remember?

But with Hanji it’s hard to catch a break. He knows. He’s dealt with this for so long that he doesn’t even flinch when she tells him-

“You’re my best friend, Levi…”

But she recognises all the signs. The slight twitch of the corner of his lips, the creasing of the skin between his brows, the sadness in his eyes so bright that she has to avert her gaze.

“Do you tell all the boys that when you dance with them?”

He answers. And she hears the rhythmic grate of the sheets against the washing board.

Forgetting is hard.

“I don’t dance with other boys…” She replies, channeling Hanji Zoë at fifteen- was it sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen maybe? Hanji Zoë who would sneak into the boy’s barracks to make out with her boyfriend in the dead of night and scurry back under the sheets before anyone found out. “You know I like you the most…”

“Good…”

He says. And he’s Levi- a few years older than she had been, a little too curt, a little too much misplaced possessiveness, thinking to himself that maybe love isn’t so icky and banal. Thinking maybe this is what his mother had promised him. This is all that’s beautiful.

He leans his chin against her shoulder, wrestling against the caution thrown at his beating heart.

Let them talk. Let them say we were lovers in a past life. Because that’s all we are.

Hanji presses her temple against his. The familiarity is jarring in all the ways a stain is. Bright mustard yellow against white cotton, evidence of a split second stupid decision to eat on the duvet. This is a cumulation of mustard moments then- a stain so big the entire world turns yellow.

“I like you the most too…” Levi says, voice low like this is a secret. Like as if the whole of Paradis Island doesn’t already know.

Hanji chuckles, and the vibration that spreads from her bones to his makes him blush. He knocks his temple against hers. Stupid Hanji. Stupid mustard stain.

“Liar…” she laughs. The word is a breath that caresses his cheek. But she knows him- this boy Erwin collected from the underground city. He got under her skin and she proceeds to make it her job to get under his. She had greeted him with scars on his forearm and in return, she walked away with a bruised eye, a broken nose, and an epiphany. And in the years after- the good years- they do what every teenager would do-

fuck around and fall in love.

Levi pulls apart, and in that moment, his lips brush against her neck- fleeting casualness befitting a hey big idiot. It’s the hottest day in the history of mankind but I’ll brave the stickiness to kiss your sweaty neck. Befitting a lifelong stain of a crush on a stain of a human being that will never quite go away.

It’s hard to forget.

Hanji watches as Jean crosses the hall back to where Connie and Sasha are. A sheepish grin plastered on a bright red face. The two tease him endlessly and as always, Jean swats them away, trying to maintain his cool. Hanji knows nothing really happened, but his reaction can only mean hopeful possibility. She smiles.

“Hey, do you think we would’ve worked out?”

Hanji asks when they’re walking back to the barracks, her jacket concealing a few bottles of alcohol. The other bottles have found their way to Levi’s reluctant hands. They’ve been through this before. It’s okay now. After all, comfort is a stained duvet. Soon, she’ll have to bid him farewell with a goodnight, stranger. But for now, Levi answers without looking at her.

“Yeah…” he replies, matter of fact, “we’ve got good bones…”

Oh be still! Hanji feels betrayed that her heart- a wretched thing so broken- still beats the same for him- this beautiful stain of a human being. This moment is living, breathing nostalgia. What had they been before one another? Menacing Levi and Kooky Zoë. How could anything bad ever happen to them. She grins at him.

“The best…”

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- THE BEETLE AT BAY

"Oof!" Harry gasped in surprise, as Sirius had at once tackled him out of sight of the front window. At the same time, a spell blasted him from a side he couldn't even see so it must have been done silently, and then the baby was crying in surprise as Remus all but Apparated to the kitchen, wand clutched as tightly as the infant.

There was not a second more to react as the front door opened obnoxiously and an unfamiliar voice called out, "hey, Potter, you home? Mr. or Mrs. I don't really care right now-"

"Dammit man, you nearly gave me heart failure," James gasped, lowering his wand as a Weasley poked his head into the living room for the source of the voice.

At least Harry was quite sure of the last name, even not recognizing the man. He had the same vivid red hair of his best friend and a splash of freckles across his face. There was even something familiar about the stocky build and crooked grin that reminded him of, Fred?

"Gideon, what are you-"

"Black!" The man interrupted in exasperation.

Sirius straitened uneasily from crouching over Harry, but his grin flipped at once into place, even as Harry lay completely still he couldn't spot a trace of concern in his godfather. "Do you knock much? This is my best mate's house, not yours."

"Your own fault for leaving the door open," Gideon shrugged without remorse, a clear mocking expression he'd shocked the man so bad he'd rolled off his seat. Then he cocked his head to the side and looked to the kitchen where the infant's crying was just now subsiding. "Lupin here too? You couple a wankers, you four realize you missed an Order meeting last night? I got sent over here to find out why, and inform your best mate you missed your check in."

Sirius managed to scowl while looking properly chagrined. "Right, about that, err, Remus had a bit of a rough night so we came straight here, and he's only just woken up so I was staying behind to check on him."

"And all three of you had to do that eh?"

There wasn't real skepticism in his voice, but it was clear he found something off. Lily must have noticed, as she stepped forward and started ushering him to the kitchen. "Well he's in there making some tea now, you and Sirius join him to get this mess out of the way."

Sirius gave an exaggerated yawn, and an even more exaggerated shake as he walked over Harry, following them out. James cast one more uneasy look where he'd last seen Harry before following, considering he didn't have a suspicious reason not to.

  Harry stayed where he was, not moving an inch, yet his heart still thudding so loudly he was grateful it hadn't given him away. He finally shifted his eyes down and saw that he'd been disillusioned, likely missing the cold sensation from his rush of shock.

He could very faintly hear voices from the kitchen, certainly surmise the easy tone they were all using which was probably what had stopped Remus bolting out the back door in the first place if that's what he'd heard from here. He started to worry when he grew stiff from his position, wondering how long disillusionment charms lasted, and very much wishing he'd asked Moody to teach him the spell when he'd had the chance. Dare he make a move for the Invisibility Cloak while he had the chance? He wasn't even sure his wand would work on the false wall, but it was better than lying here waiting to be discovered, he didn't know what would happen to his family if he was, let alone him.

He'd just convinced himself to at least go hide in the bathroom rather than the middle of the floor when he heard scraping chairs and voices back in the hallway. He checked one last time to make sure he still blended with his surroundings as Gideon's voice said, "-let this happen again, you'll have Dumbledore start questioning you lot. I warned him about something like this happening, you lot ain't even thirty yet-"

"I resent that!" Sirius snapped.

"And resemble it," he heard Remus mutter even more quietly.

"I promise Gideon, it was a one time thing," Lily spoke over both of them.

"We've far too much invested in, affairs," James agreed, an edge to his voice that made Harry's skin crawl as he remembered who all his family wanted to have a word with involving the Order.

Something of this must have meant something to Gideon as well, his tone just a touch more understanding now, "alright then, happens to the best of us."

Harry heard the door open again, before Gideon said his last piece, "well you lot look after yourselves." Then in a much more affectionate tone, "and have the little guy come over some time," he made a little coo noise and the baby responded back with a giggle. "Molly'd love the company."

"It's on my to do list," Lily promised, before there was a snap, and quiet came.

"I should at least get to have the privilege of shoving his wand up his arse," Sirius muttered as he stomped back into the living room. "Scaring the bleeding piss out of us."

"Maybe if Remus would stop losing his keys, I'd actually lock the door once in awhile," James rebutted good naturedly.

"It's hard keeping track of the one key." He protested, "we don't use one to lock our flat, you know that, it was an Apparition only. Why do you think it was so cheap?"

"I keep offering to give him one to my bike, but for some reason, he makes that face," Sirius snickered.

They hesitated for one more moment, Lily hovering next to the window just to be sure, before she hissed, "Harry?"

"Yeah," he called back just as softly, "still down here."

She took a moment to aim carefully, and then Harry sighed in relief as he got to his feet, shaking his limbs to get some feeling back.

"So that's Gideon Prewett eh?"

"Far as we know," Sirius rolled his eyes, "or it could have been Fabian, they're as bad as Fred and George with that gag of theirs, but they're a tad less fun about it when you swap them, so I think Prongs guessed right."

Harry hesitated uneasily before whispering, "did I get you guys in trouble?"

James said no at once, but Lily sighed and admitted, "it did look suspicious, Remus' full moon was four nights ago after all, but as long as we've been with the Order now I think we worked it out alright."

Harry still fidgeted guilty, but James seemed determined to wave the whole thing off now as he collected the book that had fallen to the floor. "Honestly Harry, don't worry about it. Besides, the faster we're done with these things, the faster that you can meet the Order yourself and this whole mess can be sorted out."

Harry was still worried though. Gideon may go back and tell everything was okay, but what if someone else came to check on their absence, a particular rat who would be very confused why his three best friends had skipped without mentioning it to him? But he'd said the last time, hadn't he, he wouldn't be back around for quite some time, and hadn't disclosed why. Would this change things, make him come back around sooner? Harry wasn't even sure if he wanted that to happen or not...

James was already flipping back through chapters looking for his place, Lily sinking down in relief beside him. Remus and Sirius exchanged one last look before glaring at the door, as if daring it to do that to them again before they took their seats back as well. Clearly outvoted, Harry returned his attention back to this, for now.

Harry's question was answered the very next morning.

James grunted in agitation, he hadn't really wanted an answer to this, but he supposed it was some kind of good thing he was getting one so soon instead of having to wait forever like every other question he had.

It was found in Hermione's Daily Prophet, the moment she'd flipped it open she'd yelped in shock startling everyone in hearing range.

"That was not encouraging," Sirius muttered, his face already twisted with dislike before he got an explanation.

Hardly waiting to be asked, she laid it down flat for the boys to see, and it wasn't a pretty sight.

Gazing up at them were ten black and white pictures, each with a caption underneath of the crime for why they'd been sentenced to Azkaban.

James's voice hitched in his throat, gazing with unfiltered fear at that last word before glancing wordlessly at his best mate, whose features had turned icy at the reminder of the place. He had not a clue what this could be about, but he already felt who this was going to be hardest on. If Sirius' name came back up in conjunction with that prison again, he was probably going to have to resuscitate him what with all the terrible fears he'd been feeling of being cooped up back in Grimmauld place.

A man with a twisted face named Antonin Dolohov was convicted for the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett.

Even having been one of the first people they'd found out we're going to die, somehow having just had some morning tea with the man still made this news feel sharper. It was made all the worse they could put a name to the man who would do it. For Harry it felt even worse, he could feel that thorn in his mind promising the violence wouldn't end. Names and fears crowded together inside him that he had no hope of understanding, and he was almost grateful for it.

Also Algernon Rookwood, a pockmarked man whose picture looked rather bored, his crime; being convicted for leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to You-Know-Who.

Harry shivered hard at the reminder of that name, red fumed memories tainted and waiting to throw him into a deep abyss if he dared peak.

The one who stuck out to Harry the most was the woman, with long dark hair and a disdainful smile. Like Sirius, Azkaban had not fully taken away her once beauty, but the features were now more of a veil.

Sirius continued to grow more sallow in here until he resembled a bleached copy of himself at the idea of retaining any features from the woman who would do that to someone he considered a friend. He wanted to be mad, to rage at Harry he was nothing like that excuse for a human being, but as of now he was afraid of feeling anything in fear of drawing dementors here.

Harry wanted to catch Sirius' eye, in that moment he was desperate for his godfather to look at him for a promise that everything would be okay again no matter how much he got angry when they tried to do it, but he needed one now. Sirius wouldn't look at him though, he wasn't looking at anyone, but instead he was watching the fire, eyes unfocused as if he weren't even here.

Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

Lily spluttered for a moment before starting to twist some hair around her fingers in agitation. She didn't like that was just posted on the front of a paper where you could also find the morning weather. It felt callous, all of those had! Neville had clearly not told many people, and now it wouldn't be hard for them to put the pieces together.

Finally Harry tore his eyes away from the front cover to notice the headline above the images: Mass Breakout from Azkaban, Black 'Rallying Point' for Old Death Eaters.

"Why would they use Bellatrix's maiden name," Remus forced out quietly, his face already simmering below shouting levels if he used anything else.

James had no response. No wisecrack came to mind, no utter of denial was enough to cover this.

Lily felt a mess of things well up in her, not least of which was she wanted to weep for him and what this could mean. What if they finally acknowledged Voldemort was back, but they tried to blame it all on Sirius! He'd escaped and a year later Voldemort had returned, she could easily envision the Ministry making that leap after this new slander, and she'd want to return the favor by tearing their throats out!

Sirius looked slowly around at them, Lily opening and closing her mouth but nothing getting through, James and Remus threatening murder again, Harry's visible outrage, and he smiled. He could feel what a lopsided, twisted thing it was considering this wasn't funny, but he could also imagine reading this news at Grimmauld place and sitting there all alone feeling everything they were, in his own shadowed corner. So he started giggling.

"Padfoot, I swear-"

"No, no," he ducked as Remus actually moved to start smothering him. "I'm not for the reason you think I am, I swear! Just, just keep going Prongs," he managed to insist past his hysterics of gratitude he wasn't alone now.

The best thing in the world was his best mate scowling at him, but then there was just the smallest spark of understanding in his eyes and he kept going.

Harry made to start shouting in outrage about this, but Hermione quickly shushed him and urged him to read the whole thing.

Harry grudgingly did, finding it to say the Ministry of Magic had announced last night the mass breakout from Azkaban.

"How?" Lily's voice broke over the word, in fear or anger they still weren't sure. "I honestly, I just can't believe this, what is happening!"

"The world's joining the toilet," Sirius offered, still with that insufferable look in place Lily wanted to curse off. Of all the times for Sirius to force his sense of humor on them! Never mind that she almost found it a comfort he could laugh in the face of this again, even if it was going to drive her crazy instead.

Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic,

"Oh trust me, we're all well aware," Remus said in disgust, still eying Sirius with concern at his forced bravado through all this. He couldn't play off forever this wasn't getting to him, and Remus was getting worried what he'd really do when that happened, most likely much worse than just leaving this place and being knocked out again. James was clearly going out of obligation for his son at this point to get through these, otherwise he probably would have quit at the start of three out of sheer anger for what was being done to his friends. It somehow managed to keep getting worse. Remus just wished he had something more to offer than to be angry for them. He was already a useless waste in this future, he should be able to do something for them in here!

had confirmed this fact and already informed the Muggle Prime Minister, being quoted as saying we they found themselves in much the same position as two and a half years ago when Sirius Black performed the same thing, and they did not believe the two instances were unrelated.

"I mean, under other circumstances, I can't even blame them for that one," Sirius had his head cocked to the side, ignoring his double vision from forcing himself to pay attention to this rather than the screaming rant he really did want to give.

An escape of this magnitude suggested outside help, and they must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban,

"You mean they never even reported Jr.!" Harry spluttered in outrage as he realized this. "How- they actually managed to cover that whole thing up!"

He didn't get an answer, and he wasn't expecting one. He knew with the Ministry trying to discredit Dumbledore at every turn now that anything he'd had to say would be tarnished, but it was maddening they wouldn't admit to one single thing they'd done wrong in the past two years of his life, what else were they covering up?

would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. They thought it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader.

"I never even captained the Quidditch team, what makes them think I can pull this off?" Sirius asked with an insufferable attempt at politeness, every one of them now fighting the impulse to hit him themselves already.

They were doing all they could to round up the criminals,

"Because that worked out so well the last time," Remus sneered.

and begged the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.

"Paper was finally done," James told them in clipped tones, realizing that was all the information they were going to get on this for now.

Lily had finally collected the energy to finish her outrage. "How did this happen? They can't get away with this one, they just can't! No one will buy the dementors just stood by and let this happen, inside job my arse! The dementors defected, there is no other explanation! In piling up their own lies, they're only forcing people to see the truth that much sooner!"

"I find it a bleeding miracle this was put in at all instead of what type of crumpet Fudge had for breakfast," Remus agreed.

"There's no way they wouldn't get caught if they didn't report something like this," James disagreed critically. "Even with the very low amount of check ups that go into that place, they clearly decided it was better to stay ahead of this in case one of them was spotted."

Harry didn't have the air to add in, he was still too focused on his own deep seated worry. How things kept getting worse rather than better as he sat in school and did nothing. The DA was the only way he could fight back, and it didn't feel as if it would help for much longer before something irreversible happened because of all this.

Ron said for Harry this must have been what Voldemort was so happy about last night.

Harry rubbed furiously at his temple for the reminder he hadn't needed from Ron.

Harry was still the most outraged Fudge was blaming this on Sirius!

"So much for being in Kolkata," James murmured, heart tightening painfully as he envisioned them grabbing back one of those convicts, the entirely wrong one! If Fudge got wind something was up in the Auror department and Sirius was much closer to home...but no! Sirius was fine, the Order would look after him and he'd keep his nose safe because he had to!

Hermione bitterly pointed out he had no other options, he could hardly go back now and apologize Dumbledore had warned this would happen.

"That didn't make any of this any better," Lily said through gritted teeth, even when this one wasn't Hermione's fault.

Hermione ripped the paper open to continue reading further on the subject through other pages, the faces still blinking at them from the front page. Harry glanced around him, but saw no other students seemed remotely concerned at this topic, but then he supposed, hardly any of them took the paper. Conversation around him still swelled about homework and Quidditch, not that Voldemort's ranks had swollen.

Sirius felt a bitter sigh escape him. What he would give for Harry to be the same way, to just be reading about his pup complaining about a normal detention and wondering who next to pull mischief on. The poor kid ran a terrible life that only seemed to be getting worse.

The staff table was a much different story. McGonagall and Dumbledore were leaning in closely and whispering urgently, and Sprout was so engrossed in the same cover as Hermione she didn't even realize her breakfast was dripping into her lap. Umbridge, instead of her pouchy eyes sweeping the hall for trouble as usual, was throwing the rest of the staff nasty looks.

"Well that can't be good," Remus muttered, wondering what new form of evil she could pass in the farce of a decree in her efforts to stop them talking next.

Hermione whispered another shock, and Harry demanded what just as loudly as last time, starting to feel jumpy.

"At this point I can't even blame you," James agreed, his eyes trying to skip ahead lines now to see this new misfortune as well.

Hermione stated it was horrible, lying it down flat for them again, the two boys leaning in to read the new headline: Tragic Demise of Ministry Worker.

"Who would have thought I'd ever be grateful it's not another headline about me," Sirius sighed.

The article read; St. Mungo's Hospital promised a full inquiry last night after Ministry of Magic worker Broderick Bode, 49,

Sirius grumbled in agitation he still couldn't place where he'd heard that name before. Wait, had it something to do with those Ministry- "Chicken!" Sirius suddenly burst out for no discernable reason other than to interrupt.

"Sirius, we just had breakfast-" Lily said in exasperation, but he ignored her as well, babbling at top speed with a look of relief on his face. "I remember where I heard Bode's name, that bloke from St. Mungo's who couldn't talk, or was just starting to talk, whatever! Fire breathing chicken, he was in the elevator on the way to Harry's trial!"

There was an echoing silence for a moment before Remus told him, "you're mind works in the strangest way."

Sirius shrugged in relief, finally satisfied that odd tickle was gone from his brain.

Oddly though, this made Harry start to frown again with unease. Just what was it about the name Bode he was supposed to be remembering? Sirius was lucky he'd had his moment, because Harry struggled with every one of his.

was discovered dead in his bed, strangled by a pot plant.

James couldn't help his brows creep with interest at this, understanding now why it had distracted Hermione from the larger matter he was still plenty outraged about. This was certainly...new.

Healer Strout, overseer of Bodes Ward, was suspended with full pay while the investigation took place, her statement being that the plant had been anonymously delivered over Christmas break. Bode, who had been hospitalized as incapable of caring for himself, had been steadily improving so had been encouraged to handle the plant himself, neither realizing the Flitterbloom it was supposed to be was in fact a cut of Devil's Snare. The moment Bode had attempted care, he had been throttled to death.

Remus scrutinized this for a moment before finally blurting out, "you must be kidding. Why did someone kill a mental person?"

"You got me," James agreed before shushing him for the rest.

St. Mungos is as yet unable to account for the presence of the plant on the ward and asks any witch or wizard with information to come forward.

"Now I'm done," James finished.

"Yes, thank you for that wonderful conclusion," Remus snipped before pressing his point. "I mean it, the bloke couldn't say his own name, what on earth was the real story there?"

"I really wish we knew," Sirius grumbled as he ran his hand through his hair in agitation, always feeling like he was missing part of the story, even the ones he was involved in.

Harry was horrified they hadn't recognized the plant while they'd been there, they'd experienced it first hand.

"Oh Harry no," Lily said at once. "You can't be blamed for this, it would have happened whether you'd been there or not-"

"But we were there," Harry stated. "What's the use of being around if not to help when we could have."

"For the same reason you can't stop every man jumping in front of a bus," Lily said, her tone itching towards real concern. "Things happen around you Harry, but it's not your fault if you couldn't stop them."

He only nodded to appease her, but not for the first time wondered just what good he'd ever done anyone.

Ron said back at once it was no one's fault but the person who sent it, then asked of no one who didn't check the plant they were buying.

"Oh Ron can't mean that one," James rolled his eyes. "He must know as well as anyone this was no accident."

"Maybe it could have been though," Lily strained to keep some peace in any life. "Deliveries get mispackaged, what if this was supposed to be sent somewhere else, and that Healer truly wouldn't know the difference if she'd never touched it herself."

James took a moment to appraise her, see her desperate plea for something not to be hate and murder, and nodded slowly. "You're right Lils, accidents do happen out there."

Lily leaned into him with one knot of unease finally releasing her, more grateful than ever to the man she'd married.

Hermione told him now he was being thick, this was no accident, but a clever murder. Being sent anonymous meant no one would even know who, but the real question was why?

"Congratulations! Someone helped beef up security at St. Mungo's, they probably won't be accepting anonymous gifts now!" Sirius jumped in and tried to praise this situation, Lily scowling at him for what she thought of as sarcasm. Sirius just huffed he wasn't appreciated enough.

Harry's mind went back, to when he'd first met Bode, at the Ministry of Magic when he'd been with Arthur.

"How do you still manage to remember things before me," Harry huffed.

"It's alright Harry," Sirius said bracingly, "as my wondrous friends so frequently point out, my mind is a steel trap that forgets nothing."

"I said you're an idiot who who can't remember anything except when the next meal is," Remus corrected.

"Actually you told him his mind works in strange ways, I think both count here," James grinned, actually grinned at his two friends, every second of his life now set on the idea he'd never have to go without seeing this.

"It was implied," Remus rolled his eyes while James swallowed a laugh and kept going.

Ron's mouth opened with surprise as he finally recalled where he'd heard that name, his dad had mentioned it! Bode worked as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries!

"Oh," they all muttered, rather forcefully dropped back into the story at the mention of that.

"Well, that just made a lot more sense," Lily shivered.

"He was working with the Death Eater's to try and get this mystery thing out of there as well, but something went wrong," James concluded.

"So someone silenced him," Remus agreed.

James gave an apologetic look to Lily who was frowning deeply at all of this, and he could honestly understand why. He could feel more every day what would happen to his friends and how it was getting to him, the same thing was happening to her on the wider scale of the world, all the injustice that never ended. He tried to hurry on, wanting to hear about a lesson already, anything but Hermione finding another article in the paper.

Hermione continued glaring down at the paper, before suddenly jumping to her feet.

Ron asked where she was running off to, but she hardly took notice as she grabbed her bag and walked away, muttering she was the only one who could.

"I love it when she does that," Sirius said, only half being sarcastic now. "It usually means something's fixing to happen that I like."

"I just wish she'd explain before she goes off," James agreed, still scrutinizing that one, but pleased one of his wishes had come true, at least in the short term.

As she vanished the two got up as well, though headed out into the Entrance Hall. Ron told he hated when she did that, it would only take her a few seconds longer to explain, but was cut off as they ran into Hagrid.

He was pausing in line as well, and still looked as heavily bruised as when he'd first returned, a new cut even across his nose.

All five of them felt their faces fold in concern at the same time. If they could have an answer to something going on, they wished it was whatever had really happened to Hagrid, as clearly it was still affecting him.

He greeted them casually enough, too casually as he tried to say he was busy with some salamanders, lessons to prepare, but finished on a mumble he was on probation.

"I wish I was more surprised," Remus snapped.

"Still plenty disgusted by it," Sirius sneered.

Ron shouted in protest of this, before several students looked around in surprise, and he repeated himself in a whisper.

"I sincerely doubt it's a secret," James scowled. "Surprised Umbridge hasn't posted that news as the headline herself."

Hagrid said he'd expected it, they may not have noticed, but his inspections hadn't been going that well.

"What I saw was a prejudice loogie who needs to have a run in with a spit already," Lily said flatly.

He dismissed himself quickly, clearly still not at all in the conversation. Harry watched him go, wondering how much more bad news he could stand.

"Oh please stop tempting fate Harry, it usually dumps twice as much back," James sighed.

The fact that Hagrid was now on probation became common knowledge within the school over the next few days, but to Harry's indignation, hardly anybody appeared to be upset about it,

Harry looked nearly as affronted as the news Sirius was being blamed for Voldemort's doing. What was wrong with people they couldn't see who was in the wrong with these things!

Draco Malfoy seemed positively gleeful.

"I hope he keeps that expression when I create The Amazing Bouncing Ferret, the Squeakquel," Sirius vowed.

As for the Death of Bode, only the trio seemed to know or care about that.

"Well that I actually believe," Lily sighed. Not many people read the paper for any of the important stories, which is probably why the Ministry still published them, to claim they were keeping people informed in as little detail as possible.

What did become the hot topic of the school, was the news finally being passed around of the ten escaped Death Eaters. Rumors and fear quickly went wild, many fearing and claiming to have already seen them in Hogsmeade, and hiding out in the Shrieking Shack as Sirius Black had once done.

James had to pause there to reread that one, mostly for the Shrieking Shack line.

"Did the whole school find out about me being in there?" Sirius demanded in confusion.

"Peeves spread it around," Harry confirmed. "Of course the whole thing got jumbled, I even heard one girl telling you were actually the ghost haunting that place, but now most people are aware it's somehow connected to the grounds and you can get in and out of there some way. Never heard anything more clear than that."

"Well thankfully we'll never get a repeat of any kind of Sirius' incident," Remus said with absolute confidence. "The Death Eaters aren't stupid enough to come after the school with Dumbledore here."

James tried to nod in agreement, but instead managed to let his glasses fall of his face he was jerking so much. He quickly put them back and kept going loudly before Sirius could suggest, again, he permanently stick them in place, no one noticing a similar reaction passing over Harry.

Those who came from wizarding parents had grown up hearing the names from the paper with as much fear as Voldemort's, and relatives of the victims were among the students, and were now receiving some gruesome form of celebrity status.

"Maybe this'll make them all realize how Harry feels," James said grimly, he still couldn't think about his son's fame without a whirl of emotions, none of them good.

Susan Bones, whose uncle, aunt, and cousins had also been in the paper with their captors crime posting, told Harry how horrible it was, she didn't know how Harry stood it.

"I guess the empathy's kind of nice," Lily said grudgingly.

"Still wouldn't have asked for it like this," Harry said softly, he'd never want anyone else to know what it felt like to be him.

Harry also had a new upsurge of mutterings around his name, but to his surprise, they held a new tone. Now he caught a hint of curiosity in the whispers. Like Hermione, the rest of the school had come to the conclusion the Prophet's line of the news had left some holes, and they were starting to fear the real answer was the only other one, what Harry had been saying.

"Would you look at that, they've grown brains," Remus politely applauded.

"Only took them half a year, guess they can't all be as rational as us," Sirius smirked.

"I think you meant orotund," Lily pleasantly corrected.

Sirius frowned, not recognizing the word, but sure by her tone he knew the meaning so scowled at her for good measure.

She continued by ignoring him, "I'm just happy it's happening at all, I've sympathy for them not wanting to believe it even when it was in their face."

"How was that nicer than what they said?" James politely asked.

"I didn't try to insult the students while praising myself, you lot do that enough yourself," she smirked.

Harry was laughing too hard for the argument to keep going with any amount, so James rolled his eyes before continuing.

It wasn't just the students with a new mood, the teachers were now commonly seen clustered close together in corridors talking in low whispers, though quickly breaking apart when they saw anyone approaching.

"Must be as hard for the teachers as it was for Harry to find a moment of not being watched by the toad," Remus said in sympathy.

Hermione explained they could hardly talk in the staff room with Umbridge around.

Ron asked if they knew anything extra, and Harry said if they did, they couldn't tell even if they wanted to. Not after, what Decree where they on now?

"Oh no," Lily mouthed in horror as James read out a new level of idiotic.

That very morning, new Order of the High Inquisitor Notices had been posted around Hogwarts; stating teachers were hereby banned from discussing anything with students that was not strictly relevant to their assigned subjects.

"I was joking!" Remus spluttered, hardly pausing for breath as he explained his earlier thought. "Merlin, I think I'm more insulted I'm still surprised she's doing this!"

"I'm more insulted she keeps getting away with it," Lily corrected with pure disgust.

This had at first caused a wave of amusement for some students, Lee Jordan happily pointing out to the woman herself when she'd caught him and the twins playing Exploding Snap Umbridge couldn't say anything about it because it wasn't to do with Defence.

"Thank you!" James burst out with pride. "Finally, someone really showing Umbridge just how ludicrous all of this was, I was beginning to fear everyone in this school was just playing along with them!"

When Harry next saw Lee, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly.

Harry watched them all hiss at the reminder of that, he rubbing at the back of his hand again in sympathy.

Harry recommended essence of Murtlap.

Harry had thought the breakout from Azkaban might have humbled Umbridge a little,

Sirius gave a hollow laugh for such a dream, when he more envisioned chucking her into Azkaban instead. He didn't need dementors there, she could just rot in a cell and left to die and he'd be happy.

Instead her fury had intensified, and she seemed determined to bring every aspect of life in school under her control. Her goal of now was clearly a sacking, and the only question was who first, Hagrid or Trelawney.

James groaned loudly in pity for the two of them. Neither were, ahem, perfect teachers really, but neither had ever done anything so bad as to deserve this! Okay, so maybe Trelawney had irked them one too many times, especially last year when Harry'd had that dream in her class. Okay, Hagrid and those Skrewts had crossed the limit of what he should be bringing to class, but the real trauma was that Snape wasn't on that list! He'd done far worse than the two of them put together, where was his sacking slip!

Every single class of theirs was now overseen by Umbridge and her clipboard. This caused Trelawney to act near hysterics at all hours, being interrogated about ornithomancy and Umbridge insisting she predict the students answers before she gave them while also wanting first hand experience of crystal gazing and rune stone readings.

Lily groaned in sympathy though. Not even liking Trelawney she would have long since stepped in and told Umbridge to march herself back out and go do her own work, though in her opinion it only showed how much effort Umbridge had to put into her own classes to be seen in so many others.

Harry thought Professor Trelawney might soon crack under the strain. Several times he passed her in the corridors -

Remus frowned in confusion, easily remembering her rarity of doing this from all of Harry's previous years.

which in itself was a sight as before she rarely left her tower, but could now be seen walking through corridors, wringing her hands and muttering to herself, while smelling like sherry.

"The poor broads as crazy as I always said she was," Sirius said, but there was nothing but sorrow in his voice. Even after the prophecy she'd declared that had nearly ended his life, this wasn't exactly what he would have wanted to happen to her in return. He wouldn't wish that toad on anyone.

Harry would have felt sorrier for her, but if it was between her and Hagrid, he knew who he'd pick.

"Yet the probability of both being gone is far more likely, as he said, it was only a matter of who first," Remus muttered for himself.

Unfortunately, Hagrid wasn't doing much better. He'd finally taken Hermione's advice and had shown nothing more dangerous than a crup for their class, but was still very distracted during lessons, answered easy questions wrong, and often trailed off in the middle of sentences while glancing anxiously at Umbridge. This was all made worse by the fact he'd forbidden them from visiting.

"It felt like he'd never even come back," Harry whispered.

Lily bit hard at her lip, wanting more every moment to go to him and wrap him tight in her arms, promise this would somehow get better, but they were all running out of that assurance the more Umbridge did.

Insisting if she caught him, his job would be in even worse jeopardy, and they'd all be in even more trouble.

Harry felt as if Umbridge were steadily depriving him of everything he loved of Hogwarts; first letters from Sirius, then his Firebolt and Quidditch, now she was even trying to keep Hagrid away permanently.

James had tensed more with every line, unable to imagine his old school falling into such a grim form of itself for his son, the one reprieve he'd ever had in his life.

He took his revenge the only way he could - by redoubling his efforts for the DA.

The news of the ten Death Eaters had spurred his group into working harder than ever, but nobody more so than Neville.

While unsurprised by this, they all wanted to praise Neville in that moment for taking this the right direction, rather than curling up in a corner and crying as he was entitled to do at that woman escaping back into any section of his life. He had something to fight for now.

He had not spoken of seeing them that day at St. Mungo's, and taking the lead from them, neither had they. Yet the change was obvious to all in the DA, as with every new spell he hardly spoke a word to anyone, his face screwed up with concentration regardless of injuries or mishaps, it was almost unnerving. The only person mastering them faster now was Hermione.

Lily almost threatened to tear up at this news. She'd always known Neville had more potential in him than Harry had ever seen, but now she thought of how proud Alice would be of her son just like she was for her own. The idea Alice may never get to say it to her child just like she hadn't in this future felt unbearable.

Harry wished he were progressing as much with his Occlumency, on the contrary, he felt he was getting worse each week.

James shivered in unease, he hadn't found that possible!

Before he'd started, his scar had prickled occasionally. Now it was a constant feeling of being nettled, and he often felt great mood shifts that had nothing to do with his own surroundings.

Remus could feel his mouth opening in horror at the idea, and quickly scrambled to cover the expression, but Harry had seen. "Okay, so I won't lie," he confessed to his pale nephew. "The fact that I have no clue what that means is..." he faltered, but no word seemed right. "Doesn't make you any less to me," he finished meeting his eyes.

Harry relaxed back with a chagrined nod he'd thought otherwise for even a second, while Remus was still stunned what he thought clearly meant as much to him as James or Sirius.

His recurring dream had turned into a nightly occurrence of traveling down the dark corridor. Upon complaint of this to his friends, Hermione had suggested it was like a fever, it would be worse before it got better.

"I'm getting the feeling this Occlumency is another symptom rather than a cure then," Harry huffed, he still couldn't feel any good came of this.

Harry said flatly Snape's lessons were only making it worse! He was sick of walking down that corridor, he wished it would open already!

Hermione scolded that wasn't funny,

"He wasn't trying to be," James rolled his eyes, honestly sympathetic to Harry's problem and wishing this would come to ahead already, this building tension of what this thing could do was going to drive them all mad faster than Umbridge.

Dumbledore didn't want him dreaming about that at all or he wouldn't have asked Snape to do this, he just wasn't trying hard enough.

"Lets see her try it!" Sirius spluttered in protest for her jab. "It's no walk in the park having your brain cracked open, let alone by such a detested insect!"

Harry snapped back he was trying, lets see her do the same, having Snape in her head, it was not a laugh!

The two exchanged an amused grin, while Remus grumbled no one needed Harry furthering Sirius' never ending idiotics.

Ron voiced the suggestion that maybe Snape wasn't trying to help at all.

The worst part was, the Marauders had been wondering much the same thing. They hadn't said it aloud, never let the idea come to fruition, but it made too much sense to them. They didn't trust Snape, and they never would, certainly not with something as important as this. Now, with Ron saying it for them, James forced out the words slowly and clearly to help put together his own train of thought past curses.

Maybe he was doing the opposite, opening Harry's mind for You-Know-Who.

Hermione told him to shut up. How many times had they suspected Snape? Dumbledore trusted him, as did the Order, that should be enough!

James turned pasty in shock of remembering who was in the Order and Dumbledore trusted, and his own fate because of it. James wasn't even sure if he could trust anyone outside this room again, let alone anyone Dumbledore said should be good enough.

"Not for me it's not," Sirius barked, entirely wanting Hermione to shut up instead. "I've never seen evidence against him either! Dumbledore's word isn't good enough for this, not with what Harry needs right now."

Lily kept herself calm, and quiet. She only agreed with Sirius on half, she did want that proof of his loyalty, he had done to many questionable, terrible things that she now needed something she never thought she would. She almost wished Ron hadn't said this, because now she couldn't get the idea out of her head, this certainly hadn't occurred to her. She'd thought her old friend was finally doing some irrefutable good helping her son with this, but the boys were right, they had nothing to show for whose good.

Ron insisted he used to be a Death Eater, they never had proof he'd changed.

Hermione said they had to trust Dumbledore, if not him, then they couldn't trust anyone.

"I hope that's not true," James whispered for himself. That small ember for the life of one of his friends had died out never to be seen again, but he still trusted his real friends, his wife. He used to trust Dumbledore irrefutably, but that no longer felt as real either, and he knew he'd never fully get that back after all this. If that's really where Hermione stood, he pitied her.

With so much going on, the month of January flew by, and before Harry knew it, he was looking at February fourteenth, a whole warm spring day spent in the company of Hogsmeade, and Cho Chang.

Sirius made such an enthusiastic noise Harry startled away from him, his eyes already narrowed at all of them and fighting back the urge to wrestle the book away from his father.

"Dad, I will-"

"No." James said at once without looking up.

"But I-"

"No." Sirius cut in, a smile already lighting his features as he looked at the object like it was gold.

"What if I-" Harry tried desperately.

"No." Remus crossed his arms and watched him as if he'd gone insane trying to ruin their fun.

"Can't I-"

"No," all three Marauders said at once.

He looked desperately to his mother, but she could only shrug helplessly for her poor boy, only wishing for a moment she could be more sympathetic, but that vanished in moments as she was honestly just as eager to hear this.

"Well I don't need to-" he started getting to his feet and contemplating drowning himself in the bathtub until this was over, but was again intervened.

"Don't you even," Sirius cried in protest, wrenching his elbow back into his seat before he'd even managed to stand. "Your reactions are half the fun!"

"Only half," he muttered, pulling restlessly, but Sirius wasn't letting go, now waving James on eagerly so they could all hear about Harry's first date.

He hadn't much time to talk to Cho up till this point, and now he'd have to find some way to talk to her for a whole day.

He dressed very carefully the morning of.

Sirius was already opening his mouth with a now familiar look that promised Harry would soon wish to be deaf and invisible. "I am begging you-"

"Harry, we haven't managed to stop him in the amount of years in our life, you hold no chance," Remus pleasantly informed him.

Sirius hadn't acknowledged either one of them as he blurted, "hope you got one of those mirrors offering advice, you're going to need it!"

James already burst out laughing while Harry finally got his elbow free, and spotted the cat snoozing under the table. He scooped Hickory up and placed him on his lap, scratching at his ears and making him purr loud enough Harry hoped to drown them all out instead.

They arrived at breakfast to see Hermione impatiently watching the owls arrive, and she seemed to get what she was wanting, an unfamiliar bird perching in front of her. She eagerly ripped the envelope open saying it was about time, she'd needed it today.

"I'm guessing this has to do with what she walked off about earlier," Remus cocked his head to the side, more easily distracted than the others about what Hermione was doing.

"Brilliant deduction," Lily rolled her eyes at him while the other two shushed them, trying to get to far more important matters.

Whatever it was, she declared it as important, and asked if Harry'd meet her at the Three Broomsticks at midday.

Harry was uncertain, saying Cho might be expecting him to spend the whole day with her, they'd never discussed what they were doing.

Harry squirmed with discomfort, this wasn't working and the cat glared at him and kneaded his claws into his shin. He roughly pushed the animal back off of him, thinking now everyone in here was enjoying themselves more than him.

Lily frowned at her son being so rough with her cat, but as the boys were still lightly snickering over something so minor, she couldn't find it in her to scold him for that.

Hermione said she didn't care if Cho came, but she really needed him to come.

Harry agreed, then asked why, but she said she'd explain that later and ran off to send a reply.

Harry asked if Ron was coming, but he looked glum.

"Here I was wondering if he and Hermione were going to spend the day alone," Sirius muttered to Remus suggestively, who nodded in agreement as he'd thought the same thing.

He however couldn't come at all, Angelina was having them spend the whole day training, though he didn't see how it would help, they were the worst team.

James felt his mood take a downpour at once, somehow finding a new way to be depressed about this every time he realized why no more Quidditch practices had been mentioned!

He couldn't understand why Angelina wouldn't just let him resign.

"I wouldn't either," James said sharply. "He's clearly good when he sets his mind to it, he just needs to work on that far more, clearly Angelina isn't much help if he's still thinking the exact same way as the last time we heard about this."

Harry couldn't hold much sympathy for him, as at least he was flying at all. They departed with a touch of frost, and after attempting to flatten his hair and checking his reflection in a teaspoon,

James was so agitated by the conversation, he poured every last drop of his enthusiasm into reading that, and though Remus and Sirius didn't laugh as hard because they were just as annoyed at the reminder, Harry suddenly wasn't so put out at them taking the mickey out of him for this. It was certainly better than anything else they'd been hearing about lately, so he finally fixed a smile into place and prepared himself for all the ribbing they'd give.

and proceeded alone to the Entrance Hall to meet Cho, feeling very apprehensive and wondering what on earth they were going to talk about.

"Well we know you already have something in common," James said, still a bit briskly for the Quidditch reminder, but clearly forcing himself to remain in his good mood.

"Yeah, yeah you're right," Harry eagerly agreed at once, still trying to force himself to join in on their fun.

He greeted her uneasily, and she gave just as awkward a reply back as they joined the que to go outside past Filch without speaking more.

"This is going to be a very short outing if that continues," Sirius' grin managed to keep stretching, it looked almost painful.

"Young love," Remus giggled at the awkward look Harry was clearly trying hard to keep repressed now.

It was a relief to reach the soft grass, but there was a sharp pang as Harry still couldn't help glancing to the pitch where he could see Ginny skimming the edge of the stands on her broom, looking for the Snitch.

Harry felt the same sharp pang in here, temporarily distracted in confusion that he'd much rather be playing a game than on a date with a girl he'd had a crush on for so long.

Cho asked if he missed it, noticing where he was looking.

Harry agreed at once, and she asked him if he still remembered the game they'd played against each other in third year.

"Vividly," James beamed.

Harry agreed she'd kept blocking him, Cho giggling in remembrance how Wood had yelled at him for being a gentleman and Harry should knock her off her broom.

"And look at you pup, still a gentleman considering you never did it," Sirius grinned.

"Not everyone can say the same," James smirked.

Lily opened and closed her mouth, not sure if she wanted to know what that comment meant, but James didn't pause long enough for her to ask.

Cho asked if it was true he'd been taken on by Pride of Portree.

"No, it was Puddlemere United," James recalled.

Harry corrected no, it was Puddlemere United, he'd seen him at the World Cup last year.

"Why do you remember that?" Lily muttered.

Cho remembered she'd seen Harry there too, and they quickly began chatting about that game, which carried them all the way through the school gates.

Sirius offered Harry a triumphant grin for catching such a light hearted conversation that could last them for hours, and could easily branch into other things. Harry really had picked a good girl, he still wasn't sure what Lily and James ever found to talk about considering she had no fondness for the sport.

Harry could hardly believe how easy it was to talk to her - no more difficult, in fact, than talking to Ron and Hermione -

"That's really good," Lily encouraged. "After the first few awkward moments, talking really should be the most natural part."

yet it only lasted until they ran across Pansy Parkinson, who began shrieking with giggles at the sight of them, telling Chang at least Diggory had been good-looking.

Both parents looked honestly offended at that, Remus having to bite hard on his tongue to stop from laughing at their faces when Harry at once shifted guiltily at the reminder.

She walked away still laughing loudly, leaving the two in another awkward silence, both forgetting what they'd been talking about.

James groaned in sympathy for Harry before telling him, "then you either compliment her, can start another conversation easily enough, or you curse them as they walk away-"

He ducked just in time as Lily tried to smack him, shaking her head affectionately at her husband.

Harry chuckled, just a bit, at the friendly advice.

He tried to ask where she'd like to go, and when she offered up nothing, they began wandering around aimlessly.

In the window of every shop were posters of the escaped ten Death Eaters.

They all shivered in disgust of that reminder, still on some level picturing this happening to Sirius even if his heat had cooled down. This resurgence could still cause a mess of problems for the man who didn't deserve it.

On the bottom was a note, promising a thousand-galleon reward for anyone who had information leading to their capture. Cho gazed at the picture for a long moment, before saying it was funny.

"Not the word I'd use," Remus said bitterly, with a touch of confusion, what was Cho getting at?

She remembered when it had been Sirius Black on the loose, and this place had been swarming with Dementors. Now there were ten out, and no Azkaban guards in sight.

"Oooh, I like her," Sirius began snickering harder than ever, his eyes gleaming at her logic, plus a darker something at the reminder he was still refusing to acknowledge. "We really could use her around, mind like that."

Harry gave an absent smile, happy to see they clearly still had a liking for Cho, but even as he gave his ring a little twist he tried to understand if this feeling of loss really was for this first date, or for someone he still couldn't place yet.

Remus wasn't as convinced, as at the time the Ministry had believed they knew where Sirius was going and why. They were half wrong, but it still would have had merit to post some guards for something so extreme happening, preferably something more reliable than dementors. This, he supposed, was just another level of showing how much the head of the Ministry cared, which felt non existent at this point.

Harry agreed that was weird, but he wasn't sorry. He did feel the significance of their absence, first in letting the Death Eaters escape, now not around to look for them, it seemed they really were outside Ministry control.

"Because that's right comforting," James grumbled, still feeling disgust for the dementor attack of Harry's over the summer. While still odd, it seemed the explanation really was they'd been acting on their own in that Muggle place.

A chilling rain started coming down on them, and Cho changed the subject by asking if Harry wanted to go get some coffee, he agreed, but asked where to find that?

She gestured to a place called Madam Puddifoot's, just past Scrivenshaft's.

"What's this now?" Sirius ruffled his brow in confusion.

"Never heard of it," James almost snapped, insulted at once this girl would know something about their place.

"Relax you two," Remus wished he could protest more the put out look in place, but he was feeling as off as his friends. "Don't be naïve in thinking they wouldn't have added a few more shops over the years."

They exchanged one more annoyed look before James kept going with some interest now, placing the shop in his mind easily enough as just an empty bit of space and curious to add to it.

The entrance was not inviting, as Harry found every surface covered with frills and bows, the place unpleasantly reminding him of Umbridge's office.

Sirius wretched at the very idea, even Lily found this undignified, though perhaps more because of the comparison than anything.

Cho told him she found it cute.

"There is no correct answer to that," Remus groaned.

Harry agreed unenthusiastically.

"Suppose that's the best he could do though," James sighed.

Cho said it had even been decorated for Valentine's day, gesturing at the cherub's along the ceiling that were dropping heart shaped confetti everywhere.

"I honestly would have called that as original decorations," Harry said, his face squished up in remembrance.

They sat down at once of the few seats available near the window, Harry choosing to look around more than keep awkwardly smiling at Cho, and found the place to be made up of couples. He spotted Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, holding hands with a pretty blond girl.

"At least he's not still strung up over Fleur," James chuckled.

"Ooh, I think Cho knew exactly what she was doing," Sirius sighed.

Harry wasn't paying him too much mind, even if he would have agreed, as he tried to subtly watch his parents and how they'd effortlessly been holding hands most of the time they were in here. Even the idea of wishing Cho were here so he could as well was starting to make his palms sweat.

Perhaps Cho would expect him to hold her hand.

"That's a rather common first date practice," Remus agreed.

The wild look on Harry's face made it clear this was news to him.

"Err, Harry dear," Lily began cautiously, "has anyone ever, I mean to say, who-"

The growing look of horror was a pretty clear answer.

"No one ever talked to you about what happens after the date," James stated bluntly.

"Clearly even during the date," Remus muttered.

Harry kept watching them in exasperation like it would click together for them without his having to say so, but it was clear at least his mother wanted an explanation for this while the other three were just curious. "Okay fine," he groaned, "no, it's not as if I ever chatted about this! Heard some things from older students, some of the guys from the dorm say a few things that stick. Most everything I've really heard was from Ron," he couldn't help stammering even if he wasn't too embarrassed at least explaining the highlights. "Whatever his brothers told him, some things I heard Mr. Weasley say, I thought it pretty clear I was making it up along the way. You really want details?"*

"Nope," James said, more than satisfied, even if still a little resentful this was yet another thing he'd been deprived of, as he kept going loudly before Lily could argue the point.

The matron came over, Madam Puddifoot herself, and Cho ordered them two coffees, while behind her Roger had moved on to kissing his girlfriend over the sugar bowl.

Harry was cringing into his seat, never in his life wishing more that his dad would skip some parts already!

James didn't seem particularly phased by what other random people were doing, he was more curious if Harry was going to progress that far, if remembering kissing Cho would finally set off some spark in him that would declare who that ring connected to. It hadn't the first time though, so he wasn't holding his breath, and instead was just going with curiosity now what Harry would learn from all this.

Harry wished they wouldn't; he felt that Davies was setting a standard with which Cho would soon expect him to compete.

"Oh I doubt that," Sirius shook his head, "most girls are far more involved with their own affairs."

"Really?" Remus said in surprise. "I thought they were more observational, in fact I'd be thinking the same as Harry."

"Oh no, they're watching your every move to see if you're watching their every move," Sirius said wisely.

James was watching curiously. Considering the many dates Sirius had been on, and just as many failed attempts, he was never sure how much Sirius wasn't just making all this up on the spot.

He looked to the ceiling instead, and received a face full of confetti.

"That timing," Lily began giggling anew as Harry's face puckered with indignation.

He tried to start a conversation about abusing Umbridge, but this was passed around the DA so often that ended quickly, so his mind scrambling desperately for something more to say, he brought up that Hermione wanted them to meet up later at the Three Broomsticks for lunch.

Cho raised her brows as she asked he was meeting Hermione Granger today?

"That's what he just said," James rolled his eyes, while Sirius hummed in concern, easily recognizing the dangerous tone without even being there. It was never a good sign when the question was repeated back.

Harry said yes, but he hadn't been given a reason, but Cho had explicitly been invited.

Cho said that was nice, but her tone didn't at all convey this, she now looked forbidding.

"Oh dear," Lily said, quickly catching up to why Sirius was shaking his head at this display.

"What did I do?" Harry demanded of them.

"Cho's jealous of Hermione," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"A bit founded, honestly," Lily winced. "All those stories last year, well it's not as if she knew them not to be true," she said quickly at Harry's affronted look for Skeeter's articles being brought up again. "Plus you've been friends with her for ages, now bringing this up, I can see how she'd take that the wrong way."

"I wouldn't bring a date to a girl I fancied, I'm not that oblivious!" Harry protested. "I was trying to enjoy spending time with Cho, just, trying to find something to say."

Considering James had lived through several similar conversations of Sirius trying to partake advice, James saved Harry from having to hear any further and hoped his son wormed out of this fast enough on his own.

They passed into an awkward silence then, Harry still watching her hand that was resting on the table. It was amazing he'd never had difficulty reaching for the Snitch, but it felt immensely different to reach his hand across the table.

James gave a breathy laugh as he eyed that before nodding at his son. "I find it a fair comparison."

"Can't have been that hard for you," Harry rolled his eyes, "considering all I've heard about you trying to ask her out, this bit must have been a breeze for you."

"Hardly," Remus snorted as James turned chagrined. "Poor bloke was so stunned Lily finally gave him a chance, he somehow turned into more of a blithering idiot when she acknowledged his attention."

James didn't bother to deny this, shrugging without remorse. "It did help she'd already seen me making a fool of myself to get this far, so I couldn't screw up so badly at the firsts."

Lily was just happy Harry was finally relaxing and actually chatting with the boys about this, clearly forcing himself past his embarrassment had finally led them to stop snickering away like total idiots and now she could really gage how he felt about all this. She was surprised at how, lax he was. She was genuinely starting to wonder if this thing with Cho was going to go anywhere, he'd been more happy about having his memories of learning all the Weasley's names restored rather than a first date with a girl who could possibly be his wife.

The moment he'd finally seized his opportunity, Cho took her hand from the table, and was now watching Roger kiss his girl as well with mild interest.

"There you have it, all of Padfoot's advice is officially null and void," Remus said in triumph.

"You certainly weren't singing the same tune in school," Sirius huffed, hardly looking abashed Cho was doing the opposite of what he'd been thinking.

"You're an idiot," was the only response he seemed to have for that.

She told that Roger had asked her out a couple of weeks ago, but she'd turned him down.

"Now who's bringing up other people on our date," Harry threw his hands up in exasperation.

"She's trying to make you jealous," Lily assumed. "After you brought up Hermione, that's her idea of a comparison."

"I've never asked Hermione out," Harry spluttered.

"That's what she thought you meant," Lily explained.

"Well why couldn't she have just said that, I would have told her. I had no idea why she brought that up!"

Lily just shook her head at her poor son. If she could have, she would have been whispering all this in his ear, to help him understand, but she also recognized he would have to figure all this out in his own time regardless. He clearly already had, considering.

Harry, who had grabbed the sugar bowl to excuse his sudden lunging movement across the table,

Okay, maybe all of their humor wasn't gone, all three cracking up at the description, Harry even offering a smile for his poor attempt.

couldn't think of anything to say to this, did she wish she was that pretty blond girl with Roger now? Why had she said yes to him then?

"Pity?" Sirius clearly thought he was being helpful. "She knew you had a crush on her and she's trying to make someone else jealous."

Harry's eyes popped, he looked half affronted and half confused now, while Remus smacked him upside the head.

"What?" Sirius protested, "I was just being honest. Better than saying she only did cause he's so famous."

"You are not helping," James enunciated clearly for his idiotic friend while Harry huffed and rubbed at his temples, clearly trying to remember if he recalled any of those things. James glanced at Harry, but he was now so distracted he wasn't sure if Harry was even still listening, so he kept going to try and find the point of this while Harry was still distracted.

Harry had nothing to say to this, while Cho continued she'd come here with Cedric last year.

"Oh this is even better," Lily groaned, "now she's reminiscing about their elephant."

"Really starting to feel better about my dating life," Remus muttered.

Harry missed what he'd said as his mother's words caused another level of distraction, now looking dispirited about the whole thing for a whole new reason other than his family's mockery.

Harry felt his insides ice over as Cho kept talking with a higher pitch now, asking if he'd mentioned her before he died.

James had hardly gotten that out before shuddering at the idea of what Cedric's last thought must have been. What his own would have been...He shook himself to clear that away and turned solemn eyes on his son, never having wanted to say more to him but having no place to start.

Harry clearly didn't want to talk about this though, his jaw tightly set and all but glaring at the book for never ceasing to remind him of this when all he really wanted to do was forget it all again. That wasn't going to happen though, the moment he'd realized the thought had crossed his mind he'd even felt ashamed for it, Cedric's death was to be remembered for the same reason his trip to the Mirror of Erised was. Bitter, unattainable pain that pushed him to be better at his own life.

James took a careful breath before continuing quietly, looking forward to this as much as he was hearing more about those escaped prisoners. He had no desire to hear about Harry explaining Cedric's last moments to Cho...

This was the last thing in the world Harry wanted to talk to her about, and he tried to say so, there wasn't much time for him to say anything. Then he asked about what had happened at the latest Tornados game.

"Oh it is far too late for changing the subject," Sirius told him with sympathy while Harry's horror had switched to dread. A huge jumble of emotions leaving him more unclear than ever what he was supposed to be feeling about this moment and Cho in general.

To his horror, he saw that her eyes were swimming with tears again.

"I don't suppose this'll just pass into a relapse of the two of you kissing, and finally a skip scene," Remus pleaded just a bit desperately.

"Fingers crossed," James winced for his poor son.

He desperately leaned in and whispered to her he didn't want to talk about this right now, but this was apparently the exact wrong thing to say.

"Really, why?" Sirius yelped, starting to look jittery as he glanced from Harry to the book, no advice in the world would help him out of this mess.

"Couldn't tell you, thought you were supposed to be telling me that," Harry said miserably, he wanted this to be over already, even more than when it had started somehow.

She got out between stuttering's and the beginnings of tears trickling out she needed to talk about it, didn't he understand? Surely he needed to talk about it too.

Lily started to look affronted for her son. She knew what Cho meant of course, but there was an entirely huge difference in dating Cedric and watching him die. Of course they both needed to talk about it, but not while they were trying to move past it during this moment of the two romantically trying to start up!

Everything was going nightmarishly wrong; Roger Davies's girlfriend had even unglued herself to look round at Cho crying.

"Now's the time you try to take this outside," James winced. "She really is something, dragging this out in public."

"I'm sure by this point what Sirius said is actually some form of true, she's not paying attention to a thing but herself by this point," Remus groaned.

Harry tried to agree in a low whisper sure he did, to Ron and Hermione, but-

Cho turned into shrieks of outrage as she spluttered of course he talked to Hermione Granger!

Harry's mouth gaped open as he vividly remembered this nightmare returning. Now thanks to his mum, he supposed in some skewed way he knew why that would bother her, but it wasn't like that at all! He wouldn't have started screeching if she'd gone and said she'd talked to one of her friends about this, what was the difference? "Why was she bringing this up at all?" Harry hadn't realized he'd demanded that out loud until they all winced for his tone and the baby in Remus' lap fussed uneasily at the sharp voice.

"I'm sorry Harry," Lily sighed, wishing she had a better answer. "My best guess is she was trying to make you sympathize with her to keep your attention, but it's not as if we have insights into her mind, we really are guessing."

Harry nodded morosely, muttering an apology for half yelling at something that was entirely not their fault.

James waited patiently for his son to settle back down in Remus' lap before pressing on with a look clearly saying he'd like to change the subject last page.

Cho gasped he wouldn't talk to her about it? Well then they should just leave and he could go talk to Hermione Granger like he obviously wanted to!

"This is just getting better and better," Sirius sighed.

Harry just looked at her with bewilderment, and wished Roger would seize his girlfriend and starting kissing her again rather than ogling them.

"There's a sentence I've never been privy to," James paused to gaze at that line even if he did sympathize with his son for it.

She told Harry to just leave already, if he was going to make arrangements meeting up with other girls, then even asked how many there were after Hermione?

"That is the most ludicrous thing!" Remus spluttered. "Now I'm wondering if she took something before this outing!"

"She's upset," Lily scolded him, even if she was still more wishing Harry would do more to comfort the girl, it wasn't really his fault both were mutually making this worse.

"She's just shouting nonsense at him now," Remus insisted, "even Sirius was never so loony to pull something like that."

Sirius couldn't decide if he was supposed to be insulted for a moment, but James was going loudly over them, knowing no answer to this would help Harry.

Harry at once said it wasn't like that, and feeling so relieved at finally understanding where her anger had come from, he laughed. A split second to late, he realized this was the worst mistake yet.

"Credit for trying?" Sirius offered, for now ignoring Remus. "I always try to make others laugh in these kinds of situations."

"Merlin help you if you start acting like Sirius in any situation," James rolled his eyes.

Cho sprang to her feet. The whole room was quiet and everybody was watching them now.

"So happy to be of their entertainment for the day," Harry groaned.

"If it's any consolation, you've now set for them how their dates shouldn't go," Sirius clearly thought he was being helpful again, while Harry eyed him with concern since he wasn't sure if Sirius meant this. If he did, maybe his godfather had head trauma.

She dramatically told him she'd see Harry around,

"That about covered this whole instance since you stepped in there," James agreed.

and still crying, stormed outside into the rain.

Harry threw a Galleon on the table before trying to go after her,

"More than I would have done," Sirius rolled his eyes. "That little tabloid needs a chance to cool down."

"Did you just call her a tabloid?" Lily asked in confusion, already feeling insulted on Cho's behalf for whatever he could mean by that.

"Yeah, dramatic and showing off," Sirius grinned like he was being clever.

Remus was too busy watching him in disbelief, and missed Lily's expression saying she wished he'd take another swing.

but she had vanished. Harry didn't understand what had just happened, half an hour ago they'd been getting along just fine.

"Oh how things can change," James agreed, though he said this more with an air of cheer as he glanced adoringly at his wife.

He muttered about women all the way back up the street,

Lily went from grinning at her husband to scoffing at her son, who looked properly sheepish, though in his silent defence there hadn't been a chance his mother would be around to hear that when he'd said it.

muttering about what she'd brought all that up for, who wanted to talk about things that made them a human hosepipe?

"Oh Merlin, he really is acting like Sirius now," Remus groaned, that was too reminiscent of how Sirius came back from failed dates.

"I'm still on Harry's side for this," James frowned at that. "She did seem to bring this on herself."

"Stop, the lot of you," Lily frowned at all of them. "Cho was trying just like Harry was, things got away from them. I still hope they'll patch it up."

Harry grimaced at the idea of this. His liking for Cho, which had always been the smallest part of his memories returning, felt more insignificant than ever, and he really didn't have much feeling for his mother's words other than more dread.

He made it to the Three Broomsticks early, but decided to go in anyways and find someone to chat with until Hermione arrived. He first spotted Hagrid. He looked as miserable as Harry felt though, gazing into his tankard and not even realizing Harry's approach.

While the others had brightened just a bit, Hagrid was always fun to talk to and his departure and even return had only been depressing so far. They were hoping for just a small moment of fun, but this wasn't an encouraging start.

Only Sirius had an idea of why James was looking forward to this least of all. If Hagrid started imparting girl wisdom in his steed, he wasn't sure how long he could fake not being annoyed at it.

When Harry did get his attention, he asked how he was doing, and Hagrid was clearly lying when he said he was fine; next to his still battered appearance, Harry didn't feel he had much to complain about.

"True, his relationship with Maxime seems to be going well," Sirius said brightly. Harry rubbed his face into his hands in exasperation while Remus told him he had a one track mind, Sirius ignoring both of them.

They sat in silence for a few moments, though at least this didn't feel awkward to Harry, until Hagrid spoke up they were both in the same boat.

"Err," Lily muttered in confusion, wondering where Hagrid was going with that, and still somehow wishing for that pleasant chat.

Both outsiders, both orphans.

James's slight scowl turned into a grimace instead. He would have taken being annoyed at being replaced rather than the abrupt reminder of why he would be replaced!

If their parents had lived, things would have been different.

"Yeah," Harry whispered, ducking his head. It was too hard to look at them all for a moment, to realize yet again his living in this moment never should have happened, but by some miracle it had. Hagrid had never been granted such a gift to see his parents again.

Family was important, blood was. He wiped a trickle of it from his eye.

"Oh the poor dear," Lily crooned, feeling her own eyes start to sting. Hagrid did seem a bit off since he'd come back, and she suddenly wondered if this was why! Being surrounded by giants, hearing the fate of his mother, his only relation was dead! She knew Harry often felt like an outsider in the magical world, she often did as well being a muggle-born, Hagrid must have it even worse not truly being apart of any world!

The boys could only awkwardly agree. They felt bad for Hagrid, but anything to say about it felt heartless or lost on them. Only Remus could have possibly sympathized, and he hadn't spoken to anyone about this except his friends, so he wouldn't have dared tried now when Hagrid was clearly in such an off time.

Harry asked where he'd gotten all those injuries?

"I can't even blame you for that one," Sirius said with a hard catch to his voice.

Harry almost wished for his advice back, that was easier to handle than a Sirius who was yet again forced to relive what would happen to his best friend, to his own future, all because of Harry.

Hagrid looked confused at the abrupt change, asking what injuries?

"Those jabs to the heart you keep dishing out," Remus muttered sourly, glad Hagrid wasn't around to hear that, he didn't mean it.

Harry needlessly gestured to his face, and Hagrid brushed off those were just bumps from his job.

"Hagrid's as good as ever managing his secrets," James tried to force more sarcasm to his voice than the edge that was still present.

Then he abruptly left, Harry watching him feeling more miserable than ever. Hagrid was hiding something, and wouldn't accept help, what was going on?

Harry had to concentrate for a moment on remembering to swallow past everything that had happened. He wished he could be of some help to Hagrid, but he also had a really bad feeling for whatever was this notion in him he was sure to understand this eventually.

He couldn't think on it long, as he turned to hear his name called, by Hermione.

She was sitting a few tables away from where Hagrid had just been, with two of the most unlikely drinking buddies, Luna Lovegood and Rita Skeeter.

James spluttered like he'd been clocked in the head by a Bludger! Even Lockhart hadn't thrown him off as badly as this woman making a reappearance!

The other three made much the same noise, this day really couldn't get any stranger could it?

"I have never been happier for Hermione's existence!" Sirius declared. "I need an explanation for this Prongs, now!"

It still took him a few moments to find his tongue and continue. He hadn't expected to ever hear from this woman again, or if she had crossed his mind he'd have liked to think her in a cart load of trouble, not having a drink back at Hogwarts!

Hermione greeted him that he was early, and wasn't expecting him for another half hour.

"Drama explanations for later, answer for why there's a cockroach at the table now," Sirius insisted, fighting back the urge to snatch the book away from him already.

"I'm going, I'm going," James muttered, only going slower in responding, so Remus elbowed Sirius hard before he could retort.

Rita's attention was caught at once, staring avidly at Harry while confirming this was a girl?

"What if it is a bloke named Cho?" Lily rolled her eyes.

"That would be an even bigger news line, if possible," Harry said deadpan, James shushing them both without looking up.

Hermione snapped it was none of her business. Skeeter at once put back her Quick-Quotes Quill she'd been reaching for, looking like she'd been force fed Stinksap.

"Now there's an idea," Remus couldn't stop himself snickering at the idea, though quickly stopped at Sirius' glare.

Harry asked what his friend was up to.

"Finally," Sirius yelped, James taking a moment to look at him in exasperation for still managing to delay this further.

Skeeter told Little Miss Perfect had been fixing to explain that upon his arrival, before waspishly asking if she was allowed to even talk to him?

Hermione coolly responded she supposed.

Unemployment had not been suiting Rita. Her once elaborate curls hung lank, her nails were chipped, and there were some jewels missing from her glasses.

Lily didn't care how mean spirited her giggle was, the woman deserved it with all she'd done.

While Hermione was distracted, Skeeter leaned in close and whispered to Harry if she'd been pretty?

Hermione snapped one more word about his love life and the deal was off.

"What deal?" All four of them said in exasperation.

James looked up slowly from the book, saying clearly, "well if you'd stop interrupting me, maybe we'd know by now!"

Remus ignored him and instead started speculating with that little bit, "Hermione's not really going to let Rita out from under her thumb, I can't imagine what would be worth it!"

"There's not going to be a time that's possible," Lily scoffed. "Hermione will always have the first word of Rita's secret."

"I can't believe Skeeter hasn't fixed this herself by now," Sirius said with puzzlement. "It's been plenty of time, surely she's at least started the process of registering herself as an animagus."

"I thought she was still in a jar in her dorm and never got the chance," James pouted even if he knew it not to be true, Hermione had said she was going to release her, but he could enjoy the idea in the meantime. Then he cursed at himself for playing along when he'd wanted to keep going.

"Maybe Prongs has a point," Remus agreed, "Hermione could have dumped Skeeter in the middle of nowhere, made it a real hassle for her to be doing anything to do with the Ministry in the meantime."

"Eh," Sirius said, unsatisfied with this answer, but it was the only one they were going to get as James kept going.

Rita demanded what deal? Oh one of these days, she trailed off with a threatening huff.

"She says that like it's supposed to be so intimidating," Harry rolled his eyes. Even at her worst, Harry had only ever been outraged at her for further inconveniencing his life and making Hagrid's life more miserable, but never to the level Skeeter clearly found herself of menacing.

Hermione said with indifference yes, one of these days Skeeter would go back to writing horrible stories, but to find someone who cared about that.

All five of them got a laugh out of that, finally, this whole chapter had felt like a walking disaster, so this was a brilliant relief to them all.

Skeeter slickly responded the Prophet was running plenty of stories without her help, then turned to Harry and whispered how that made him feel? Betrayed, misunderstood?

Angry, Hermione answered for him.

"Usually Hermione answering for people drives me nuts," Lily grinned, "but somehow she's made this time funny."

"Circumstances," Harry shrugged, he'd had no problem Hermione deflecting this for him.

He'd told the truth and they'd called him a nut instead.

Skeeter said of course they had, he'd screamed You-Know-Who was back and was the sole witness with no other standing other than Dumbledore.

Harry snapped back he wasn't the sole witness, there had been a dozen Death Eaters their as well, then asked if she'd like their names?

Rita said she'd love them, again reaching eagerly for her bag and looking at Harry as if the most beautiful thing ever.

James rolled his eyes in disgust even if Skeeter finally was doing something they approved of. She certainly wasn't going to be able to spin it in the way it should be, leaving them still baffled as to why she was there.

She even began writing the paper as she took out ink and parchment, muttering the headline Potter Accuses, subheading of Harry Potter naming respectable and prominent members...

"Yep, there it is," Lily said in clipped tones. Even Skeeter managed to make the actual truth into a spectacle. It was a gift, if a waste of one.

Then she froze and turned acidic eyes back on Hermione, stating but of course Little Miss Perfect wouldn't want that.

Hermione responded sweetly that's exactly what Little Miss Perfect wanted.

"Don't indulge her Hermione!" Remus scolded.

"The name, which I can't even deny is a little funny, or the idea?" James arched a brow at the book.

"Both," Sirius had his head cocked to the side as he tried to wrap his head around where Hermione was going with this.

Rita and Harry gaped at her, while Luna was sitting back in her seat, humming Weasley is our King, and apparently paying no attention.

"Hey!" James yelped in outrage. "I thought Luna liked Ron!"

"Maybe she really does wish he were her King," Sirius inserted, though still confused.

Harry had a torn look in place, a bit miffed at Luna as well even having the knowledge she'd never mean it the way Malfoy did. What was it about this song he was so sure shouldn't really be a bad thing? He was sure if Luna was humming it, maybe she'd even added her own lines so they weren't insulting his friend-wait-

The idea was turned off as James kept going, to Harry's relief, as he was starting to feel that all too familiar pounding back in his temple.

Skeeter confirmed Hermione wanted her to write about Harry's report of You-Know- Who's return?

Hermione corrected she wanted Skeeter to tell the truth, all of the facts, exactly as Harry says them.

"But, where's the proof she will?" Lily demanded, clearly thinking she'd found a hole in Hermione's plan even if there was a warm feeling for the idea. "I give her merit, trying to post Harry's story out there, but-"

"Luna's dad!" Sirius yelped with a huge smile, ignoring Lily's scowl he'd cut her off, she should be thanking him. "Remember, he believes Harry, he'd never post anything like Skeeter was trying for, but he'd put up the truth! And this woman, being the horrid but reputable source she is, puts the credibility as opposed to his other stories," he trailed off with a brilliant smile.

Lily found the plan so ingenious she even stopped scowling at Sirius.

"That's brilliant," Remus breathed, watching the grin unfurl on Harry's face. "That's, wow! Wait, what even made her think of this so much later?"

"Who cares," James said in a sing song voice, grinning boyishly. Finally something was going right for Harry!

Remus was still blasted as he remembered it was Hermione seeing those ten Death Eaters that somehow prompted this, though he wasn't clear how she'd connected all those dots to this, but he wasn't going to knock the idea either so let it go. He was still just a teensy bit worried, vividly remembering the cock and bull about Sirius for one that had so gotten their hopes up for the briefest moment. He wasn't entirely sure how this was going to help Harry, how far could Skeeter's word really stretch?

Harry would tell her everything that happened the night Voldemort had returned, Rita jumping so badly at the name she spilled Firewhiskey down herself.

"My new favorite reaction," Remus nodded, his eyes still wide from shock.

Skeeter told Hermione the Prophet would never run it.

Sirius' grin took a hard edge, nearly predator like from this woman clearly not having learned her lesson, still trying to talk like this about his godson. They weren't even there and they'd realized where Hermione was going with this before that woman had, shows how smart she really was compared to that 'silly little girl.'

Now if she could write the story from her angle, considering how delusional the public found him-

Hermione snapped they didn't need another story about how Harry'd lost his marbles! He needed the truth.

Rita scolded there was no market in the truth.

Hermione said irritably the Prophet only printed what Fudge wanted them to?

"Finally someone says it out loud," Lily scoffed.

Rita gave Hermione a long, hard look. Then, leaning forward across the table towards her, she said in a businesslike tone,

"Well that's a new one," James scrunched up his nose at this woman trying to act like a professional instead of what she really was.

that yes, Fudge was a heavy hand in what was printed, but the fact remained the same, no one wanted to hear You-Know-Who was back.

"And pandering to that idea makes it all better," Remus said acidly.

Hermione said scathingly the Daily Prophet only existed to tell people what they wanted to hear?

"It used to not," James said in disgust, still having the urge to discontinue his own even when they hadn't started doing this yet. Just knowing they one day would because of whatever means Fudge was using was revolting enough to him.

Skeeter said back the Prophet existed to sell itself, calling Hermione a silly girl.

"Oh so we're back to calling her that now," Lily said through gritted teeth.

"I note the change happened after Hermione made her point," James sniffed.

Luna finally piped up then her dad found that an awful paper, he published what he thought people should know about important things, he didn't care about making money.

Rita was not impressed, asking if her father worked for some stupid towns letter then? Twenty-Five ways to Mingle with Muggles?

"I want to subscribe to that now," Sirius said flatly. Harry couldn't help a grin at him doing such a thing out of spite, even if he admired the idea of why.

Luna corrected The Quibbler.

Rita started laughing so loud, people looked around in alarm.

All five of them almost cracked a smile for such a reaction, though perhaps not a kind one, to be in on such a joke. They didn't like agreeing with Skeeter, it left a nasty taste to acknowledge for even a second she had a point, but it was still miles better than anything she'd ever conceived.

She calmed down enough to state she could manure a garden with the contents of that rag.

"That's assuming you have a heart long enough to keep anything alive," Lily sneered.

Hermione inserted this was her chance to give it a boost then.

Skeeter let out another whoop of laughter as she realized Hermione wanted Potter's story taken seriously in The Quibbler!

"They did take my name at The Quibbler," Sirius batted his eyes innocently, Harry starting to laugh as hard as Rita just had much to the others exasperation at wondering why Harry still did.

Hermione insisted people would give it a chance. The Prophet's account had left too many holes, people would still be looking for a real source of information, even from a, she paused and looked sideways at Luna, finishing even from an unusual magazine.

The others couldn't help joining in on Harry's suddenly giggly mood. Too long they'd been hearing nothing but disaster and pain on him, yet finally Hermione had wrangled together something of far more use than they'd yet seen anyone else trying to do!

Skeeter remained quiet for a long moment before grudgingly stating what if she did it? What would she be paid?

Luna answered nothing, people offered stories to her dad's paper for honor.

Rita again seemed to find that Stinksap smell in her mouth.

"Please continue giving them ideas," Lily giggled, noting how all the Marauders got a particular look on their face for this description.

Demanding that she was to do this for free?!

Hermione agreed easily she would do just that, or she'd find herself with an insider's knowledge of Azkaban with a nice big Prophet article of her own covering her unregistered Animagus status.

That jab was harder to laugh at for the reminder of James and Sirius' own current problem, making them all the more glad they'd never incurred Hermione's wrath at any time.

Rita looked as though she would have liked nothing more than to seize the umbrella sticking out of Hermione's drink and thrust it up her nose.

"I'm sure many people would stand in line to see," Lily rolled her eyes. "Isn't it nice to underestimate people."

Through gritted teeth, she finally stated she had no choice, and finally did take her writing things out.

Luna said her dad would be pleased cheerfully.

Hermione turned to Harry and asked if he was ready to tell the public the truth?

"I would like to take a moment to recognize Hermione just, volunteering you for this," James frowned at this. He'd just had a big problem with Cho because she'd just assumed Harry would want to talk to someone about this, now here was Hermione foisting the same thing on him.

Lily couldn't help but agree rather sourly, "you've hardly spoken a word of this to them at all after the first night, she really is putting you on the spot even with the best of intentions."

Harry considered for a moment, really thinking why he wasn't angry. "I suppose, Hermione wasn't, you know, pushing me to do this, you know. If I'd said I wasn't ready, well she wouldn't have been happy and would have badgered me to do this because it's the right thing," he acknowledged after seeing their skeptical faces, "and I trust her, so even though it was hard to talk about it again to someone I didn't even like, well finally being able to push back like this felt, right." He finished triumphantly, before his brow creased and he really thought out, "Cho just sprung it on me, and so did Hermione, but at least my friend knows where I'm coming from, and she won't start crying over it," he finished with a bit of a shudder, causing Sirius to suppress a snort that was what Harry was so on one particular side with.

James hummed in agreement before finishing, simply thinking Hermione will be Hermione.

Harry agreed without much enthusiasm as the Quick-Quotes Quill was set in front of Rita again.

"Well that was done," James announced, happily tossing the book along to Sirius.

HPHPHPHP

*I'm really not going into further details about this guy's, not even in the next book. The idea of who gave Harry 'the talk' had been on my mind since the third book when Cho showed up, but to be perfectly honest I was never given 'the talk' either, I didn't exactly grow up in a conventional household and was never sat down about this. I figured it out as I went along and grew up, though I had access to the internet which wasn't something Harry was privy to, I figured this is as good an explanation as anyone's going to get so let's leave this one be.

[theraikouhotel]

Massive Headcanon Post

ALRIGHT I HAVE IDEAS!!! I think.... Headcanons below the damn cut because they’ll be separated into different series! God I hope this becomes a thing I do...

Please enjoy!! 

Fate

Raikou’s favourite time of day is dawn. She likes to see the sun coming up and the hope of a new day washes over her, making her look forward to another day of her being not insane as she believes she is. 

Shikibu secretly collects figures of the other Casters and sometimes makes them move with her magic, re-enacting something she sees in her head. She then writes out in her little diary, as if it was the most interesting thing ever when really...she made them kiss with her own figure she had gotten made.

Arturia also does baking on the side whenever she’s alone and she’s made sure that the cafeteria is empty. She’s been caught several times but they let her do her thing as she looked determined to get the recipes down. This is usually to thank everyone who has helped her, especially her master.

Tiamat likes to decorate mindlessly when she’s stressed. She’ll do it usually with Christmas decorations she has in her room, because she likes how fun they look. Sometimes it might be with Halloween ones. The Primordial Mother just likes decorating so much.

Europa sometimes might summon Talos and pet him to calm herself down. Having her bull close to her soothes her, especially when she sees things aren’t going as well. If she doesn’t have her bull, she’ll curl up and try to breathe but it doesn’t work sometimes.

Irisviel isn’t too fond of people badmouthing her children. Especially those she considers her own. She’ll kick the crap out of you so hard that you won’t even get up for the next week.

Black Clover

Asta hates it when people ask about his parents or drill into him that he should have died way too long ago. He’s never had any proper blood parents so he’ll say the Father at the church he was raised at is his dad. But when people say that doesn’t count, he won’t like it. He’ll also say that the belief in his comrades helped him live.

Noelle isn’t actually too close to the Mama Squad. She feels awkward around them. Or any sort of mother figure as she has no idea what to say. She’s also afraid of breaking down in front of them as it’s not becoming of a royal as she has drilled into her head. 

Vanessa only drinks to make sure the lonely thoughts don’t invade her mind. She hates feeling lonely and drinking helps alleviate it. But when she doesn’t, her mind starts playing on the fact that she’ll be alone forever and she just heads to bed, crying.

Bleach

Ichigo has nightmares about Yhwach from time to time. He always thinks about how he could have ended it a lot more quicker so that everyone could have lived. He always imagines several outcomes. But whenever he opens his eyes, he remembers those who have died in the War and it hurts him so much.

Orihime wishes she was as strong as Yoruichi. She has one of the strongest abilities yet she hates how indecisive she can be. She has kept to herself that her kind heart has hindered her so much, even with the amount of people telling her it’s her best trait and one that should be kept as there was enough hate in the world.

Yoruichi often feels like a failure. She has strongly felt this ever since Aizen and it continues to eat away at her even after the Thousand Year Blood War. 

Highschool DxD

Issei often feels like the girls that love him aren’t real. That he’s not really deserving of their love. He has these thoughts that plague his mind every other day that tell him that Rias is lying or that Raynare is actually still alive and is playing tricks on him.

Rias does her best to be there for everyone. But hates how her own duties stops her from doing that which instead makes her rely on Issei to see how everyone is. It’s not just as the alpha female in the harem, it’s as a friend to everyone.

Sona secretly enjoys dressing up with her sister, Serafall, as it reminds her that one day she may not be able to spend much time with her. So she never tells her to go away whenever Serafall is with her, rather she’ll just bear it and blush in embarrassment.

Date A Live

Kotori still enjoys the kids meals at the nearest restaurants as she loves how cute they are always made. She’ll always add it in with another order so she gets to indulge in how cute it is before devouring it.

Kurumi isn’t a big fan crowds. Whilst it does help her with her concealment, she feels her heart race whilst being within them. She has to take a moment in the shadows to get her heart to a more normal rate before going back in there again.

Love Live!

Umi is always the strict one. However, she almost always feels bad when she has to berate someone because in her own home, she has been treated a lot more harshly as the next head of the Sonoda household. But she keeps this fact closely guarded.

Kotori is always thinking about something. Usually about how to get Honoka to be hers only but she never acts upon it. She’d hate that she’d feel horrible if she did make Honoka only hers and “took out” the other competition that is her idol group. So instead, she gets out of this habit through fashion designing.

Mari isn’t actually a big fan of showing her wealth off to other people, only her friends. Sometimes she accidentally does it and then they try and cosy up to her. She hates that. She can see right through them and immediately denies them.

Chika doesn’t actually have many passions except idols. If it weren’t for idols, she would most likely stare blankly into the ceiling of her home as she would take over the Ryokan Inn that her mother owns. She’d just wonder what she was doing, whether or not if existing was right or not.

Karin has been offered various modelling gigs, which is of no surprise. However, there have been times when she has considered going 18+ modelling but refused in the end. She was curious yes but will never do it.  Of course, she’s just about getting by.

Emma has always been Karin’s best friend. They always look out for each other. However, Emma can see whether or not something is bothering Karin but doesn’t ever bring it up. Instead, she just wants to see her happy.

Bang Dream!

Sayo is a girl of many secrets. She only ever tells them to her twin sister, Hina as of late. Before, she’d never tell anyone about herself and if she did, it was only the bare minimum. She’s still closed off as she refuses to get hurt by anyone.

Tomoe is always overworking herself. She has lots of volunteering and things she does, which always leaves her knackered (tired as fuck) at the end of the day and all she wants to do is sleep. Even on days when she looks like she’s okay, she isn’t. She wants to rest.

Aya is clumsy and will get lost, just not as often as Kanon, her friend. However, she feels inadequate as an idol. She has trained for this but it always bothers her, as it goes into late night practices and early dawn nap times. She has considered giving up so many times, because of all the hate she has seen, even with her idol group, she’s usually the one with the most hate as she is at the centre most of the time.

Arisa is just gay as fuck. But she isn’t sure if it’s right to feel that way or not about certain people (KASUMI TOYAMA)

My Hero Academia

Kyouka has an innate talent of analysing quirks as well, she has never realised it. She has an analytical brain that can probably compete with Midoriya’s if she applied what she knew about music into hero work. 

Momo hasn’t been the biggest fan of being raised rich. She always wondered what it’d be like to live a normal life, without all the privilege and weight of a legacy she has  on top of her.

Danganronpa

Tenko has always been confused about what to feel about the ‘degenerate males’ she has met. Especially the likes of Shuichi and Makoto. She has wondered if her view of them being horrible is skewed as she seems Shuichi as one of her closest friends. But she won’t ever admit that, ever. 

Kaede really wants to know if she can stop with the piano puns. She likes to make them too much.

Makoto hasn’t exactly had the easiest time mentally. The death of his friends always haunts him even in his sleep. The screams, lights, flames, everything. He remembers all the details vividly and when he tries to reach out for them, their dead bodies are there on the floor.

Komaru has a hard time of knowing if she fits in or not as she had been taken from school and is now older than what she believes she is. She sits there wondering if it’s right to be this way now or not.

Other Muses

Jotaro is very cautious of everyone he meets. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened in Egypt if he gets too close to anyone he likes. Even if DIO is gone, he’s never gotten rid of the feeling that someone will die in his presence or in his name.

Levi has a soft spot for his brats. He basically sees them as his children as this point and he may have been called dad once or twice by a few them. He enjoyed that but only gave them a glare.

Weiss is a soft gay for Ruby. But apart from that, she’s fine with both guys and girls. 

Mami always has the feeling of her wish being selfish at the back of her mind. It’s there nagging away at her as if it would come back to bite her in the ass so she’s always out there doing her best for her juniors and always on the look our for Kyoko Sakura.

Natsu hates how his former guild had treated him. He isn’t a dumbass who can’t do anything right, rather he’s someone who was the most attuned to his emotions as his flames prove. If he meets anyone from there, he won’t hesitate to take them out with one punch.

Lelouch actually had a crush on Cornelia for a brief moment before knowing of his relation to her. He decided to drop it and add her to the list of “Siblings I absolutely adore” but from time to time he does wonder if they weren’t related, would they take over the world together?

Haru has pictures of her friends in a small box. She also has one thing they owned within it too. She’s unaware of how strange this is.

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 25: confrontations and constellations

Tuesday, November 6th, 1990

“Mmmphh? Hello?” Not the most polite way to answer the phone, true, but who the fuck calls at this hour?

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I woke you up, I figured you’d be up early with Jeff…”

“No… I mean, yeah, he left way early, he had to be at work by 4, I went back to bed… what’s going on, is everything okay?”

“Uhm. I hate to do this before you go to work, but… can you come up?”

Cora’s voice is so small it’s terrifying. That’s all I need to know. It’s go time. I’ve barely yanked a comb through my hair, dragged a toothbrush through my mouth, and thrown on something vaguely resembling a work outfit before I’m off up the stairs. Halfway up, I remember the spare key to her place, which is hanging on a hook next to my door, but whatever, thankfully she’s left the door unlocked.

And she looks like absolute, utter hell. She’s curled up on the couch under a massive blanket, white as a ghost, looking at me with dark-circled eyes.

“I got Stone’s flu, I think,” she explains unnecessarily, obviously straining to talk through a sore throat. “Also, I kicked Alex out last night.”

Typical Cora, burying the lede. Pinching myself would be rude, right? I need to not do that. I opt for biting my tongue hard to make sure I’m awake as I scoot some of her mountainous blanket fort over to make room for myself on the couch. Ow. Yeah. I’m awake.

“What the hell happened?”

She winces as she swallows. “Another girl. Here. They were, uh, in the shower, when I… They, uhm, figured I’d be at work longer, but Colleen sent me home early last night, because of the whole…” she draws a circle around her face, which is giving the facial expression equivalent of a shrug.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Uh-uh. So I… came home and… found them. Kicked them both out. And then I stupidly told him to come back tomorrow and get his stuff.”

“That’s not stupid, we should get his shit out of here as fast as possible,” I muse, scowling at her. “Do we know her?”

“No. She’s Brian’s girlfriend or something. She didn’t even know about me. It’s been going on for a year.”

A year?? This is so fucking surreal. I know how to do the friend thing, I swear that I do, but the way she’s relaying this insane information so robotically, it’s really throwing me for a loop. I wish she’d scream about it, or cry hysterically, or call him a rat bastard, or something to let me vent my own anger, but clearly, we’re not there yet…

“...and how are you doing?”

“I’m alright. I just, uhm,” she glances around the apartment, “I told him he could come and get his stuff today, you know, move out, but I don’t… I don’t really want him hanging around forever trying to get it all gathered up… I was gonna try to get a head start this morning but I could use a little help…?”

Okay! An action item! I got this. We’ll deal with robotic Cora later. I’m sure it’s just a defense mechanism and she’ll break down later once she’s had more time to process. I jump up off the couch, a to-do list growing ever longer in my brain. Cora starts to get up too, but it doesn’t take a lot of effort to push her back down because she’s not very steady on her feet.

“Park your ass, woman, you need to rest.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I’m already walking toward the bathroom, calling back over my shoulder. “The first thing I can do is bleach the ever-loving fuck out of your shower. And your towels. And your sheets. And who knows what else they touched, but we’re gonna nuke the shit out of it all. Okay? And then… we’ll figure out the packing part later.” A glance at the clock tells me I don’t have a ton of time before I need to go to work. I need reinforcements. But that can wait.

I leave Cora to slump passively on the couch while I gather up a load of sheets (because ew) and towels (because extra ew) and quickly attack her shower with some bleach spray. Out of her sightline, I’m free to gag at the mental image of that dumb, smarmy motherfucker hooking up with another girl IN THE APARTMENT HE SHARED WITH MY FRIEND. WHO DOES THAT??! FOR A YEAR!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I’m obviously not going to fan those flames with her and make her feel even worse, because she’s still letting it all sink in and what she needs right now is some unemotional, businesslike help getting the logistics worked out. But it’s therapeutic for me to be able to lose my shit in here with the door closed for a moment. Okay, whoa, bleach fumes... moment over. I make the bed up with clean sheets and grab the rest to take down to the basement.

“Laundry, be right back! You good?” I call at her over a giant basket of offending laundry. She nods and manages a small “thanks” as I bustle past. Once I’m in the laundry room, I get to take out more anger on the machine, slamming doors and swearing loudly, but I collect myself before I get back to the 4th floor. She hasn’t moved an inch, and she still looks like a zombie.

“Okay, alright, uhm, I have to leave for work in like five minutes…” I tell her, glancing at the clock as my mind races.

“You’re the best. Even that much was a huge help because I was never gonna make it down the stairs,” she tries for a chuckle but ends up coughing. “I’ve got it from here, you go to work.”

“Stop talking nonsense. I just need to figure out who I can call to come help you.”

“No!” she yelps, wide-eyed. “No, please don’t tell everybody, this is so fucking embarrassing, I really don’t need the whole phone tree to be notified that my life is on fire. I can do it myself!”

“I wasn’t thinking of lighting up the phone tree, I’m just wondering if any of the guys are off work this morning. You need manual labor.”

“I can do it, Lucy, honestly.”

“Uh huh. And you’re going to have help. Stop arguing about it or I’ll fight you and you know I have the height advantage. Let’s see, first, we need to figure out when…” it takes a Herculean effort to say his cursed fucking name out loud, but gritting my teeth seems to help “...Alex is going to drop by. I want to have it all done before then so he’s not here for more than a minute. Get in, get your shit, get out.”

Her eyes start to look a little red-rimmed for the first time. “I love you, Luce.”

“You too. Don’t you fucking move. Get a little rest.”

I grab the phone off the end table, tugging at the cord to follow me, and pace down the hallway and into their den, hoping that she won’t eavesdrop quite as aggressively that way. And then I remember I don’t know Alex’s work number. I yell down the hall, she calls out the numbers, and I punch them in, imagining each phone key is one of his teeth being knocked in. To my surprise, the bastard picks up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

He sounds like shit. This pleases me.

“Alex, it’s Lucy. You’re at work early.”

“Yeah, uh,” he yawns, “I slept at my desk last night, Cora kicked me out, and I couldn’t stay at Brian’s, so --”

“-- I’m playing the world’s smallest violin for you,” I growl, trying to keep my voice low enough that Cora won’t hear but assertive enough to terrify the shitstain on the other end of the line. “Listen. You are going to come get your shit on your lunch break. I’ll have it all packed up and in the front room. If you don’t get it out of here by 1:00, we’re having a bonfire tonight at Discovery Park, courtesy of your video game console.”

He stammers for a moment before mumbling something that sounds enough like assent for me.

“Don’t be late.”

It takes a lot of effort not to slam the phone back down. Get me, I’m mature. Okay, now we have a little over four hours to get his shit out of here, but I don’t have any more personal days left this year so I can’t miss work, Jeff’s at the cafe already… Eddie? Eddie’s a pretty diplomatic guy, I bet he’d be willing to help, and of all the options, he probably wouldn’t make Cora feel too uncomfortable. But when I try the guys’ apartment, there’s no answer, so maybe he had an early shift too.

Hmm. Mike? He’s a bit of a mess, but he’s got a good heart. I’ll try him next.

“H’llo? wh’s happenin’ ‘bout me,” a slurred voice says.

“Mike? Mike! Wake up, I need your help.”

“we’re closed! n’more lettuce for today.”

“The fuck? Mike!” but he’s already hung up. Great, the only two morning people in our whole crew are already at work, and Cready’s either talking in his sleep or wasted or both. I can’t remember Chris’s number, and I’m not about to ask Cora for it because I don’t want her to freak out again thinking I’m calling the whole neighborhood. That leaves one option. She’s not going to like this. She’s really, really not going to like this.

“Hello?”

Okay, finally, someone who sounds at least halfway awake.

“Hey, Stone? Sorry to bother you so early. It’s Lucy.”

“Lucy? What the hell’s going on? It’s like… 7…?” I can hear him stretch and probably fumble around for his alarm clock.

“7:15, yeah,” I finish his thought for him. “Listen, I need your help. Cora kicked Alex out last night, she found him cheating with some other chick. As in, he’s been cheating on her with this same girl all year. As in, she found them here when she got off work.”

His sudden avalanche of bellowed obscenity makes me jerk the phone away from my head. “Okay, okay, get it out of your system, I know, I said all the same things when I heard,” I reassure him from a safe, ear-protecting difference. “The thing is, there’s not really time for that, because he’s coming back at like noon to get his shit out of the apartment, and Cora’s got the flu so there’s no way she can pack it up herself. Despite what she may think.” As I speak, I can hear her making a liar out of me in the other room with the unmistakable sounds of a suitcase being packed. So much for the whole resting idea. She’s impossible. Good luck with that, Stone.  “She’s already trying to do it herself, you know how stubborn she is. I wish I could help her but I’m out of time off for the year and I have to get to work, but I’ll be right back as soon as I’m done for the day, I just need someone to --”

“Be right over,” he says in a terse voice that’s much higher pitched than usual. I hang up and resign myself to trying to restrain Cora from murdering me for calling him.

When I find her next door in their bedroom, she’s busily filling the battered old suitcase with sweaters and polo shirts from the dresser.

“So, Alex will be here around 12… Jeff and Eddie were both at work....”

She cuts me off in a brisk tone, continuing to pack and not making eye contact, “That’s okay, don’t call anyone else, I swear I’ve got this. He doesn’t even have that much stuff. All the furniture and kitchen stuff’s mine, it’s just his clothes, a few books, records, the computer shit in the den… I won’t drop dead from the exertion of packing all of that, I promise.”

For a split second, I consider telling her that Stone is on his way over, but (a), I value my life, (b), I’m not going to have the argument with her that she needs to stay in bed because I know that will fall on deaf ears, and (c), I’m going to be late for work. That’s Stone’s problem now.

“Okay, well, drink lots of water, don’t overdo it, call me if you need ANYTHING, and call me no matter what after he leaves. Got it?” I tip an entire drawer full of socks into the bag to speed up the process, giving her a pointed stare until she finally pauses and looks at me.

“Yes, ma’am. You’re my favorite human, you know that?”

“You’re mine. Try to rest.” I pull her into a quick hug, and then I’m on my way out the door.

I’d better be your favorite human. I bleached your ex-boyfriend’s sex towels. Vivid fantasies of murder accompany me on the drive to the hospital.

***

Of course, I only remember that I forgot to lock the station wagon when I’m already on the 4th flight of stairs in her building, taking them three at a time, trying to get a grip on my temper so I can actually be useful when I get to her place. Whatever, if someone wants my car that bad, they can have it. I was so busy mentally cursing Cletus that I nearly wrecked it like four times just getting it over here, and the drive’s only like 15 minutes.

I have to take a deep breath to avoid pounding on her door, but no matter what I do, I can’t get my adrenaline levels to chill out. Down, boy. This is not the time, place, or person for the whole John Wayne hero routine. Not that I’ve ever been very good at it, anyway. With one more deep breath, I arrange my face into some semblance of neutrality and manage a normal-volume knock.

Cora opens the door, bundled up in a massive quilt and looking like death, so much so that I’m probably gaping at her like a fool. So much for keeping a neutral expression. We stare at each other in silence for an excruciatingly long time, and I would speak up except that I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say. I’ve been preoccupied with all this stupid male anger for Alex, I didn’t even bother thinking about what I should say to her. Thankfully, she speaks up before I have to.

“What are you doing here?”

Okay, that I can work with. “Lucy called me.”

A skeptical crease between her eyebrows tells me that this information is news to her, so I explain as quickly as I can, “she said… she said you might need some help, uh, packing stuff.”

“Did she tell you why?” Her voice is a thin monotone.

I nod but then figure I should probably qualify so she doesn't think I’ve been prying. “I got the gist, yeah.”

“Fantastic.”

“I’m so sorry, Cora.”

“Sure you are,” she mutters with a sniff, huddling deeper into her blanket cloak.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I frown, kicking myself for not resisting the bait. She doesn't need a fight today, and I know that, but I’m still so fucking keyed up from the drive over here.

“This is the part where you say ‘I told you so,’ right? You called it, you should get to take credit for it.”

“I didn't come here to gloat, Cora.”

“Well, you should, you were right.” She rolls her eyes and refuses to look back at me, staring stubbornly down the hallway.

“This isn't exactly the kind of thing I want to be right about.”

My own voice is getting thicker as I talk because her eyes are reddening and I can't stand to see how much she's hurting, and trying to act like she’s not. When she doesn't answer me, I ask in a gentler voice, “can I come in?”

She nods and blinks back her tears, reaching for me, and I’ve got her wrapped up in my arms as fast as I can close the distance between us. She rests her head on my chest. I bury my nose in her hair, fighting the overwhelming urge to kiss her or do anything else that would make this about me, rather than what she needs. But I’ve really missed this. Every other thought vacates my brain, other than how much I’ve missed this. The way she fits in my arms. The way her hair smells. The warmth of her. Holy shit, warmth…

“Jesus, you’re burning up,” I rearrange so I can press my cheek against her forehead, nuzzling closer despite myself, “have you taken anything?”

She shakes her head, not letting go.

“Why the hell not,” I whisper.

“Didn't think about it,” she shrugs. “Anyway, it’s your fault.”

It’s still so terrifying to see her like this, and I don’t mean the fever. This calm detachment. Just like the other night, at the diner. Trying to pretend it never happened. That can’t be good. I give her one more bracing squeeze before loosening my grip, adjusting her blanket around her shoulders.

“Yeah. Okay. Sorry about that. Uh, I’ll check your medicine cabinet. You go get in bed, I’ll be right there, okay? I mean, not, ahem, not in your bed, just… I’ll be right there with whatever fever reducer I can find… obviously…”

She purses her lips in what could be either a smile or a wince and lets me steer her back toward her bedroom, rubbing her back once before I split off to the bathroom on the other side of the hallway.

Her medicine cabinet’s pretty sparse… some floss, some Alka Seltzer, a bag of cough drops that expired in 1986… the last one actually makes me laugh out loud… and miraculously, an unopened bottle of nighttime cold medicine that has a fever reducer in it. I don’t know how she’ll feel about the nighttime part, but she definitely looks like she could use the sleep, so I’m going with it. I grab the bottle, double back to the kitchen to get a glass of water, remembering which cabinet is which from the night I did her dishes. When I meet her in her bedroom, she’s sitting up, still out of the covers, with a nervous look on her face.

“I can’t take this, it’ll put me to sleep for hours!” she whines when she sees the label.

“That’s the general idea, yes. Unless you want to lie and tell me you slept well last night. Go ahead, try it.”

Through a peeved sigh, she huffs, “no. I stayed on the couch. Barely slept.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But if this stuff knocks me out, how am I supposed to help you pack?”

“You catch on quick, don’t you?” I sit on the foot of her bed, tugging the covers back to encourage her to climb under, and she obliges with a sour look on her face. “Look, I follow directions well, just tell me what I need to pack. You need to get as much rest as you can.”

“But what about Alex?”

“Let me worry about Alex.”

“Gee, what could possibly go wrong,” she quips, but she finally reaches out for the cup of dark green medicine I’m holding out for her. With a grimace, she downs it in one shot and washes it down with some of the water before letting me tuck her in like a little kid.

“Okay. I got most of his clothes into that suitcase already,” she nods at a huge bag on the floor, “there’s just the coat closet left. He’s got some stuff in the bathroom, that should be obvious enough. Everything in the den’s his -- not the furniture, but the TV, the video games, all that stuff. And then he has some things on the bookshelf, but I’ll have to talk you through that.”

“Or you could sleep and I could figure it out for myself.”

“You think so, do you?” She cocks an eyebrow and for a second, it’s like that detached fog has lifted. Jesus, I’ve missed her so much. I roll up my shirtsleeves to give myself a sensory distraction.

“Mmhmm. I’ve got a pretty good handle on your music taste, Red. What does he listen to, anyway?”

“Well, you can start with all the Elvis Costello --”

“-- oh, it fucking figures --”

“-- and the Springsteen, and the Zappa, and --”

She rattles off several more artists as I disappear around the corner and start pulling records off the shelves. What gets left behind in her collection is both a massive relief and a weird set of bedfellows: obviously, there’s the Doc Watson and the Hank Williams and the Johnny Cash and the Willie Nelson and the Woody Guthrie and the Pete Seeger and the Joni Mitchell and the Joan Baez and all the other hillbilly and/or hippie things I’d fully expect on her shelf. And among other things, she’s got a bunch of old blues and motown, a weird smattering of acid rock and heavy metal, what appears to be the complete discography of Tom Waits, ditto for Neil, and a few others I’m almost too afraid to ask about, just in case they’re Alex’s…

“Uhm… what about the Steely Dan albums?”

“Stay.”

Good girl. “Elton?”

“Go, sadly.”

“Right.” I keep them on the shelf but shove them back just a little. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “Books?”

Pretty much everything stays except the Asimov, Ayn Rand, Salinger… uhm… Hemingway and Steinbeck. You get the idea.”

That’s for sure. What a fucking prick this guy is. I start pulling titles and dropping them into the box. Every now and again, I’ll call one out to her for clarification, but she sounds increasingly sleepy, and after a while when I check in on her, she’s out cold. It doesn’t even wake her up when I make my way cautiously into her room to finish packing clothes in his suitcase and drag it down the hall. The rest of the apartment is pretty easy to sort out, and I’m taking no small joy in the catharsis of purging all traces of Alex from her place. Even his juvenile man-den takes no time at all to clear out, although I think I’ve pulled a muscle in my back moving his big stupid TV. I’m not going to tell her that, of course. Gotta keep some dignity here.

It’s about 11:00 when I’m pretty sure I’ve got all his bullshit piled up in the front room, and Cora’s still fast asleep. There’s one book title from her collection that stood out to me as being especially weird, even for her, so I snag it and stretch out on the couch to read it and pass the time. Every third or fourth sentence has me laughing, which of course still prompts disgusting coughing fits, so I do what I can to keep the noise down, but Cora doesn’t show any signs of waking. In what feels like no time at all, there’s a knock on the door and the clock is telling me it’s nearly noon.

Setting her book down and checking on her one last time on my way to answer the knock, because who’s in any great hurry to see this motherfucker anyway, I slowly make my way to the front door. His first reaction when I open it is to drop his jaw and turn an extremely unappealing shade of red. He’s looking sufficiently unwashed and exhausted and stressed out and pissed. All very good things.

“The fuck are you doing here?!”

“Keep your voice down, Alex, she’s sleeping.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, asshole, this is my apartment!”

“Mmm, not anymore, I don’t think.” It’s deeply gratifying to keep my voice as calm as possible while he gets more and more irate. I budge past him into the hallway, closing the door behind me so he won’t wake her up.

“So you’re just here playing house with my girlfriend, then??”

I lean against the door frame with my arms folded, maintaining steady eye contact while he incrementally loses his mind, even though he’s encroaching more and more on my personal space. I’ve never been big on the whole males-working-it-out-with-fisticuffs thing, but I’m sure as shit not going to let this dickweed intimidate me. 

“I don’t have to explain shit to you. And she’s not your girlfriend.”

“I fucking knew it, I knew there was something going on with you and her, you obnoxious fucking --”

“I just came over to pack up your stuff. She’s too sick to do it. That’s it. Make whatever you want out of it, I don’t care, just don’t wake her up.”

“STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO, I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU --”

“Hey, Stone, is there a problem here?”

The voice that cuts through Alex’s screeching is a deep, calm, resonant kind of voice, of the kind that can quiet a noisy room without even raising its own volume. Over Alex’s shoulder, I watch Eddie appear from out of the stairwell, and as Alex whips around to face him, it takes every bit of my composure not to laugh. Eddie’s at least a full head and shoulders shorter than Alex, and by rights he’s like the least threatening guy I’ve ever met -- Jesus, he makes people friendship collages, who does that? -- but right now he’s got this crazy-eyed expression that, with his tightly wound posture, seems to fill the entire hallway with its intensity. It’s a look that immediately calls to mind cobras or other animals that can make themselves larger to unnerve predators. Or, in Eddie’s case, probably a non-venomous snake mimicking a cobra, a thought that is threatening to make me laugh even harder, but there’s no reason for Alex to know any of that.

Anyway, it’s working, to my delight and relief. Alex unballs his fists and takes a big step back.

“No problem, we’re just helping our friend Alex here move out of his former apartment today. Cora’s asked him to live elsewhere,” I explain to Eddie, who maintains a deep crease in his eyebrows and a fireball stare as he keeps his eyes fixed on Alex, nodding steadily.

“Sure, yeah, let’s get you moved out, friend.”

My rabid-faced, calm-voiced bandmate seems to be enough of a wild card to subdue Alex, who mutters something to the tune of, “fine, whatever, let’s get this over with.”

With Eddie’s help, it only takes a couple of trips between the three of us to dump all of Alex’s shit outside on the curb in front of his stupid Jeep, letting him pack it all inside. I wish I could say, for the preservation of my integrity, that I handled his belongings with the utmost care and didn’t accidentally crush a fragile item or six. But hey, I’m weak, I guess.

“SEEYA!” I chirp, waving enthusiastically, a shit-eating grin plastered on my face as Alex climbs into his truck with nothing more than a sad little “fuck you, asshole.”

Eddie maintains his cobra posture until the Jeep’s on its way out of the parking lot, before turning to me to ask, “hey, is Cora okay?”

“Ehhh, she’ll be fine,” I explain, heading back inside and holding the door open for him. “I mean she’s sick as hell, so that doesn’t help, but I think she’s alright.”

“Anything else I can do to help?” he tugs at his soul patch, frowning.

“Nah, I think running him off with our torches and pitchforks is plenty for now, thanks man. I appreciate you having my back there.”

“Hey, whatever the fuck happened, he wasn’t gonna make it any better by starting a fight outside her door.”

“Something tells me he wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Not a big thinker, that one.”

“Some kind of son of a bitch or other, too, for her to throw him out like that.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Hey, thanks again,” I repeat once we’ve come to her door. As he opens his mouth, I cut him off, “I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do to help, for sure.”

With that, I wave to send him down the hallway to Jeff’s place and head back inside. So much for not waking her up… she’s parked on the couch, looking groggy and wary but impossibly gorgeous. And she’s ditched her blanket coat.

“Hey! You feeling better?”

“Mm,” she equivocates, “sort of. Fever’s gone, I think. For now.”

“Hope we didn’t wake you up with our friendly little gathering.” I sit next to her, moving the book I’d left propped open on the cushion over to the end table.

She toys with a tiny hole in the knee of her sweatpants. “Sounded ugly out there.”

“Well, given the company, that’s kind of a given.” The fact that she chuckles at my joke and doesn’t tell me to be nice about Alex is like a breath of fresh air after working all day in a mine. “But nobody died. And I’m pretty sure we got all his stuff.”

“Thanks, Stone,” she mumbles quietly, a little tremble in the way she says my name that threatens to do me in. “Really, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Did you manage to get some decent sleep?”

“Yeah, not bad,” she looks relieved at the change of subject. “The meds are still kicking my ass, so if I say anything incoherent, please be kind.”

“You got it.”

“Čapek?” she nods at the book, her voice sounding a little more assured.

“Yeah, well, I got done packing early, I had to pass the time somehow. You’ve got some crazy shit on those shelves, Red.”

“I love that one.” A tired smile spreads across her face. She’s prettier mid-flu than most women I know when they’re all dolled up. It’s unfair to womankind, really.

“Yeah? War With the Newts, 1936. Where the hell do you find this stuff?”

“Got it at a weird little used bookstore back in Asheville. You’re telling me you could resist that title? Come on, a sea captain discovers a race of highly intelligent newts, enslaves and exploits them, causing them to rebel until they finally conquer the world?”

“Hey! Spoilers!” I elbow her.

“Sorry, it’s just too good. How far did you get?”

“Definitely not into any overt newt-human conflict yet, I can tell you that much. The sea captain and that other guy were still debating how to use the newts in their pearl-harvesting scheme.”

“Oh, man, so you’re pretty early, you haven’t even gotten to my favorite part!”

“Which is?”

“Hey, spoilers,” she repeats, a wicked glint in her eyes.

“I think I’d rather hear you tell it, anyway.”

After chewing on her lip for a moment, she obliges. “Okay, you know how the newts develop a trusting rapport with the ship captain, kind of a symbiosis? Like, he sends them on diving missions to find pearls, and in return, they ask him for simple tools for their own developing society?”

“Right…”

“Well, they start to ask for more and more complicated tools, showing more and more of their own hidden intelligence, and the sea captain develops more and more affection for what he sees as his own pet newts, even though they hate him for exploiting their civilization. Very good imperialism satire, by the way.”

“Of course.”

“Well, coming up soon, that symbiosis starts to break down. One of them’s going to start menacingly asking a human for one object over and over, and then the newts all start to chant:” she holds her hand out and widens her eyes creepily, “‘knife? knife? knife?”

“Jesus,” I sputter. “So that’s the beginning of the end, then.”

“Yeah, it ends up being a pretty perfect skewer of nationalism, fascism, scientific hubris… really it’s the perfect sci-fi story.”

“Yeah, and it reads like something Douglas Adams would have written if he were alive in the ‘30s, it’s fucking hilarious.”

“I knew you were a quality human, Stone.”

I watch her cautiously, unsure how much to push her on such a fragile day, but unable to help myself. I mean, this is almost back to normal for us, right? Maybe she’s feeling better already. “Careful, I might start thinking we’ve graduated from a temporary ceasefire to a lasting peace.”

“You’re making a decent case for it today,” she fights a little smile. Hope sparks up in my chest, but now is definitely not the time to make a move, for fuck’s sake.

“So, uhm, you need anything else? You got enough food, that kind of thing?”

“I think I’ll survive, yeah.”

“Well, I mean, I did get you sick… Cornell brought me soup, I feel like I should pay it forward somehow… I still owe you dinner, anyway…”

“You don’t owe me dinner, Stone.”

“I mean it though, what’s your comfort food situation when you’re sick? Everyone has one.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“Oh, most definitely, but I’ll still go out and get it for you.”

She crumples up her face, eyes shut tight. “Uhm… well, there was this one thing I always used to eat when I was a kid…”

“Lay it on me.”

“Tater tots…”

“Okay, that’s an unconventional choice for the flu, but it could be weirder…”

“...dipped in strawberry yogurt?”

“Nope. Okay, that’s it, we’re done here, you’re obviously history’s greatest monster.” I start to get up from the couch, wrinkling my nose in disgust, but she catches me by the wrist and tugs me back down, laughing. Predictably, I fold like a card table at her smallest touch.

“You promised!”

“Ughhh, fine, just don’t make me watch.” I stand up again less dramatically, and this time she lets me go, even though I’d prefer it if she didn’t.

“Wimp.”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“Thanks, Stoner.”

“You bet.”

“I mean it. Thanks… for all of this. I don’t know how to tell you… how…” her eyes suddenly redden again, and she looks away, almost chuckling at herself with annoyance as she blinks furiously.

“Hey…” and I’m back on the couch next to her, my hand on her knee, trying to get her to look at me. “Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? Maybe go get a little more rest, I’ll be right back.”

“K.”

I give her a quick hug, which lingers as a hand on her back as she gets up and heads back to her bedroom. I wait until she’s out of sight before I throw on my coat and head out, renewing my resolve to just be her friend for as long as we can manage it, because that’s obviously what she needs the most.

***

“Hey… I’m back…”

I open my eyes to a swimming image of Stone sitting on the edge of my bed, still dressed for the outside weather, watching me through those huge, concerned owl eyes. I must have fallen asleep pretty quickly after he left.

“Hey.”

“Uhm, the food’s in the fridge. I got your requested grossness, plus a few other things that us normies eat when we’re sick, you know, in case you wanna try and assimilate.”

“K.”

“I think I’m gonna head out, let you get a little more rest. Lucy’ll probably be back in a few hours, she said she was gonna come straight over when she gets off of work.”

“Stone… please don’t go yet, I don’t want you to go…” I hardly know what I’m saying, my head’s still so fuzzy from the combination of cold medicine and interrupted napping, but I know I don’t want him to go anywhere yet. I don’t want to be alone in this place yet. I fumble for his hand to make sure my point gets across even through my inarticulateness.

“Oh...kay…” he nods, looking taken aback. “You want me to hang out on the couch until Lucy gets back? I can do that.”

“No…” I tug a little harder on his hand. “No, can you… can you stay here? Can you…” ugh, loser alert, “can you hold me for a little while?”  

Frown lines deepening on his face, he nods and stands up to shake off his coat, his baseball cap, his blue button-down. He nudges off his boots and then climbs in next to me, letting me curl up in the crook of one arm as he pulls the blanket up with the other.

“Better?” he asks quietly, once we’re situated. The answer is no, of course not, not really, but the words don’t want to be said. In an inescapable wave, every awful thought I’ve been pushing down since last night swamps over me. Like the feeling of waking up from a nightmare, discovering with sheer relief that none of it was real, except that the wires got crossed somewhere and only the horrible stuff was true all along. Only the worst things you think about yourself are left. That you’re not lovable, not even to the only person who ever tried, that you’re not good enough, that you’re a way station for other people until their Something Better comes along, a consolation prize, a dead weight. That everyone’s going to leave, eventually, one way or the other, and that you might not even be valuable enough to them to be worth leaving properly. That you can’t even take comfort in a moral high ground because deep down, you know you have the ability to treat people this way, too. The sobs shake out in terrible gasps against Stone’s chest, endless, bottomless. God, I hate that I’m doing this to him. Stone, of all people. I’ve got to get my shit together, this isn’t fair to him.

“I’m s-sorry…” I manage to choke out, once the oxygen decides to stay in my lungs long enough to let me.

“Jesus, what the hell for?” his fingers find their way into my hair and begin to rake slowly through it, repetitively, consistently, in a way that gives me something to think about other than… anything else. I wind my arm further around his middle, clutch the fabric of his t-shirt in my fingers, thread our legs together, hold onto him for dear life, trying to get as close as I can, and he responds with a steady embrace and a quick kiss on my forehead.

“You’re just,” I sniffle, trying to pull my shit together, “it’s just really unfair, it’s almost funny, how you’re like… the worst possible person for this job…”

“What job?”

“Listening to me cry over Alex. Like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not a fucking idiot.”

“God, this is so stupid, I don’t even know why I’m crying, it’s not like I want him back…” I wipe my cheeks, but there’s nothing I can do about the puddle on his shirt.

“That’s fair enough. There’s no excuse for what he did.”

His words cause an uncomfortable twinge, a familiar one. “Yeah, except I did the same thing to him.”

“Huh?” Stone cranes his neck to look down at me, disbelief etched all over his face.

“With you.”

“Uh-uh. No.” He rests his head back on the pillow and resumes his compulsive stroking of my hair. “Our thing was totally different.”

Was…Our thing was totally different. Granted, last week feels like it happened a year ago, but I’m not sure I’m ready to bury it under the past tense yet. I guess Stone is. Ouch. There’s a thought I don’t want to dwell on today.

“Uh… enlighten me.”

“Well, for one thing, you’re a pretty bad liar.”

“I’m sorry Stoner, is this you trying to make me feel better?!”

“You know what I mean. You wear your feelings --” he interrupts the rhythm of his hand to perch it on my shoulder “-- right here. And your whole Jiminy Cricket conscience muscle is way too overdeveloped. You could never do what he did. The sheer amount of deception involved in that kind of two-timing is fucking staggering.”

“Yeah, even to her.”

“Huh?”

“The girl. Cindy. She didn’t know about me either.”

For a second time, Stone arches his neck to try to get a better look at me. “No way.”

“Way.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t know he had a girlfriend??”

“She seemed as shocked to learn about me as I was about her.”

“But, like…” he continues to gape in confusion, so exaggeratedly that it’s almost funny, “she came over to your house? Did she not notice that there are pictures of you guys together here? Like, all over the place?”

I don’t know why, but picking the situation apart like this with him actually helps me get a little distance from it again. Good. I don’t know if I can stand another attack of pathetic sobs in front of a witness. “Yeah, well, our Cindy didn’t strike me as the brightest tool in the drawer.”

He snorts as he relaxes back down again. “God, I love you. That’s another difference, by the way.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone, but likewise. But they were together for a year, Stone, I’m sure similar language was involved.”

“And that’s another thing,” he carries on, undeterred, “the length of time! Jesus! Who does that?? Fucking asshole, that’s who.”

“Well, anyway, I’m sorry. For snotting up your shirt and everything.”

“Who’s the snot otter now?” he smirks. “Anyway, don’t. You’re allowed. You just got your heart broken, you get a free pass for all kinds of obnoxious shit.”

Once again, I don’t know what to say other than thanks, and I feel like I’ve already said that so many times that it’s going to get stuck in my throat if I try again. But another thought occurs.

“Have you ever?”

“What?”

“Had your heart broken?”

“Oh, sure, lots of times. I mean, sometimes I’ve been on the other end of it, but yeah, of course.”

“Tell me about it?”

He’s silent for a moment. “Well, the first one’s always the worst, right? I’d had a couple of girlfriends in high school, but the first one I ever really loved was this girl, Annie. This was like, sophomore and junior year, so real revolting puppy love shit. Writing her name in my notebook, walking her home from school, talking for hours on the phone at night, all that stuff. Anyway, she left a note in my locker at the end of the year telling me that she’d decided to get back together with her ex. And that was it. Didn’t see her all summer, and when we went back to school in the fall, she acted like she didn’t know me.”

“Fuck. That must have been hard.” I wrap myself even tighter around him, wanting to insulate someone so good from ever being treated so cruelly. He responds in kind with a rib-cracking squeeze.

“It was. For a while. You get over it, though.”

“For the sake of argument, I will pretend what you said is not, in fact, a crock of shit and ask you the obvious question: how?”

He shakes with one of those tiny laughs I’ve come to love, the kind that seems to get stuck in his nose. “I don’t know, you kinda… you go through this stage where everything that happens to you, or around you, reminds you of that person, because you’re so used to telling one person everything on your mind, and sharing everything, and all of your stories point to them, they’re you’re reference for everything, like your…” he grimaces at his own word choice, “your North Star, or whatever. So it’s like there’s salt in the wound, constantly…”

“Sounds awful.”

“Yeah, it is. But after enough time goes by, other people start becoming new focal points for you, and you have new stories that are tied to those people, and they kinda start to fill in the sky with other constellations, until that one person doesn't seem so prominent anymore. And then one day you’re squinting at the sky, trying to figure out how that person was ever such a big deal at all.”

Past tense, present tense, whatever we are, however confusing my situation with Stone has gotten, this is exactly what I need right now: to be curled up in his arms, letting him run his fingers through my hair, while he climbs the ladder and hangs the stars back up in the sky one by one. Just like he said he would.

[enaxii]

(5)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

once again, please take note of all tags! read chapter 5 on ao3 here and the whole story here

art by my artist, inkytiger!

(no more chapter titles!)

ho҉w ma̵n̵y ti̷m͠es are ͘y̸o͝u g͠onn̡a have͢ ͜to ͟sav͢e̛ ͢m͡ȩ before this̡ ̛i͞ş ̧o҉v͡e͜r͞? 

The mission is a failure.

There’s no way to sugarcoat this truth. Allura vaguely thinks that this is almost as bad as the first time they took Zarkon head on, but then she amends the thought. This is worse than that fight. At least, then, all the Paladins had gotten out of it alive. All of her family had gotten out of it alive.

She remembers Shiro, walking past them like they didn’t exist, out of the room, cradling Keith’s body in his arms.

Allura spends the hours after the mission under the shower, letting the scalding water burn her skin as it rains down upon her, like the judgement she deserves. Whatever blood that got on her is already gone, but Allura can’t help but still feel its stickiness gelling on her skin, sinking its claws into her. All the blood is gone, and her skin is starting to turn pink, but Allura doesn’t move from under that shower. She just stands there, water cascading down around her and steam rising, letting the water judge her for her sins.

There should be a debriefing, but Allura doesn’t need to have a summary of the list of failures the mission is. She feels sick when she realises that with both Shiro and Keith gone now, as the technical owner of the ship, she is next in the line of command. There’s nothing to empty when she retches, and Allura just watches the water trickle into the drains. Lance is still the pilot of the Red Lion, the second-hand man. Allura lets herself be selfish. He can handle this.

Her skin is smarting painfully when she finally steps out of the shower, feeling just that bit guilty for wasting so much water.

It’s fine. There are fewer people for the water to go around to now, anyway.

Nausea bubbles up at the back of her throat again at that thought, and now all Allura wants to do is to get out of here. The air outside the bathroom is a cool relief, but the comfort only makes her skin feel tight, like she doesn’t quite fit in her body. Allura hurries to the bridge, breaking into a run across the castle, feet pounding on the floor. She runs as fast as she can, until her breathing comes heavy and her lungs burn because she can’t get enough air. She runs until her mind blanks and there’s nothing left but the walls that flash by her and the pain in her legs. Allura crashes through the doors of the bridge, and everyone’s staring at her when she doubles over, trying the catch her breath.

They are all staring, and it makes Allura’s skin itch. She wonders if there’s still blood on it somewhere in a distant haze.

“Is anything the matter?”

Lance looks like he has so many things to say, but he remains silent, eyes pained. All he does is take Allura by the hand and led her to her seat. He procures a pouch of water, straw already poked through, and leaves Allura alone to recover.

Too soon, Allura’s mind starts to work again, and she wants to shut it back down. Wants to go for another run forever until her body gives, until her mind is nothing but fragments in the night sky. There are so many things that people want, but not enough shooting stars to grant them. There has never been enough happiness to go around, something that seems to make itself painfully clear in how the Black Paladin’s panel is empty and there’s a space beside Kolivan that no other member fills.

“It’s good of you to join us, Allura.”

Kolivan’s voice isn’t judgemental. Maybe he just sounds tired to everyone else, but Allura hears the current of loss, of understanding underneath, and she knows that he’s gone through this too many times.

She doesn’t have the energy to parse through her feelings, to make a plan, so she nods, lightly, and says nothing.

When the silence grows long enough to become awkward, Lance steps up to take the helm again. He’s fidgeting with the corner of his shirt, and he clears his throat before he starts to speak. The cough is loud in the silent room.

“So, uh,” Lance bites the corner of his lip, “The mission kind of, um, failed.”

Everyone in the room winces for Lance. Somehow, he manages to soldier on.

“We lost both Keith and Shiro, and, uh, a number of Blade members. Our Lions are also pretty depleted right now. Anyone got anything to add?”

Pidge raises her hand, though her gaze is still fixed on her lap.

“We also lost the Black Lion.”

The entire group collectively exhales. The elephant in the room, the lion in the room. No one wants to handle this problem. Without the Black Lion, they can’t form Voltron. It’s eerie how similar this situation is with when Shiro disappeared, so long ago. It’s eerie how similar this situation is with when Keith started pulling away from the group, going with the Blade, so long ago.

(They don’t have a Paladin for the Black Lion now, anyway.)

The silence sits like a dead lion in the room.

Hunk’s question is tentative, small.

“Allura… I know that you aren’t feeling the best right now but is it possible for you to track down the Black Lion? Like you did before?”

“I can try…”

Her voice is scratchy.

She takes her place in the centre of the room and places her hands on the controls.

Find the Black Lion.

There’s a tugging in Allura’s gut, and the star maps expand across the bridge. There is a moment where nothing happens, and she’s about to stop, apologise for failing them again when the tug becomes a yank and the star maps explode into errors. Allura stumbles, and her eyes widen. Red fills the screen, pulsing violently as it eats away at the screen, spreading like a plague.

“What’s going on?!”

“It- The Castle is sensing the Lion everywhere! But how?”

Alarms are wailing, and they sound too similar to the ones in the Galra ships. All at once, they fall silent, and there’s a sinking pit in Allura’s stomach. This is too similar, too similar and she almost expects his screams to start playing over the speakers in the castle-

The star maps fizzle.

A screen opens on its own accord, and it’s the Black Lion.

“Hailing the Castle of Lions. This is Shiro.”

No one speaks for a minute, and then everyone explodes into chatter.

“Shiro!”

“Where are you-”

“You’re okay!-”

Allura stares at the screen, and there’s horror crawling up her throat, tasting foul in her mouth. There’s something so wrong with this.

“That’s not…”

“Everyone, calm down.”

A new voice slides into the audio, familiar yet not, like a wall just a few shades off, a shadow cast where there shouldn’t be, a waterfall that falls up instead of down.

It’s Keith.

The whole room falls silent.

“No. I- I saw him die! I felt his quintessence signature waver a-and go out!”

Allura’s aware she sounds near hysterical now, but she knows what she saw. She knows the blood that pooled under the table. She knows.

Her voice is hoarse.

Kolivan’s gripping the control panel tightly, knuckles turning white.

The whole room falls silent.

Shiro speaks again.

“Princess, we’re nearing the Castle.”

Lower the particle barrier and let us in.

Allura doesn’t know what to do, and everyone’s staring at her. Her voice shakes when she speaks.

“Lower the particle barrier.”

Who are they going to let in? What are they going to let in?

---

The Black Lion heaves into the hangars. The Lion’s moving strangely, almost like she’s the puppet in the story Lance told Allura so long ago -- Pinocchio, something that looked alive but wasn’t truly alive.

The Lion’s jaw drops open. Inside, it’s pitch black, the lights turned off — they can’t see inside the Lion. Everyone collectively holds their breath, and there’s a terrible precognition that’s hovering over all of them.

Two shadows appear at the mouth of the Lion. When they step down, they’re smiling, smiling like there’s nothing wrong.

Keith looks like a zombie . Cuts and bruises still litter his body, his hair stringy and bleached white. The hole where his eye should be still gapes and there’s a cruel slash across his throat that’s scarred over like a hastily done heal job. Just looking at Keith is painful.

Allura tears her eyes away to assess the other passenger. At first glance, Shiro looks perfectly fine, but the longer she stares, the more off he seems. It’s then that Allura realises that his irises are yellow , and there are no pupils. Just like the Galra.

The come to a stop in front of the rest of the Paladins. None of the Blades followed them down.

Allura forces a smile.

“Shiro, Keith. It’s…”

She searches for words that dangle at the tip of her tongue.

“We’re glad you’re okay. You guys are probably tired, uh, we have the healing pods prepped if you need them?”

Lance’s picks up after her, and she’s never been any more grateful for him. The tension in the room is like a rubber band that’s been stretched too thin. Every word is a minefield — say one thing wrong and everyone’s going to be blown up into pieces.

They shake their head as one, completely in sync, and Allura feels her smile shutter.

“We’re fine.”

“We just need some rest.”

“In our rooms.”

One after the other, pitter patter like rain falling. It’s like they know what the other is about to say.

“R-right, we’ll leave the two of you to it, then. Just, um, give us a shout if you need anything.”

Keith’s probably trying to smile, but it just looks like gum and teeth that’s been moulded into a crescent shape. It’s about as reassuring as staring down the mouth of a snarling wolf.

The Paladins part ways like the red sea, and Shiro and Keith pass through. They disappear through the doors of the hangars and out of sight. They take with them such an oppressive atmosphere that the moment they leave, Allura feels less like she’s stuck underneath the bottom of the ocean, suffocating, and more like there’s a whole building that rests on top of her shoulders.

“Did you see that? Keith? Shiro’s eyes?”

No one answers Hunk’s questions, and silence takes its hold.

The Blades leave soon after, leaving seven people in a castle made for thousands. It has never bothered Allura before, but now she feels like she’s playing cat and mouse in her own castle. How easy it would be for a mouse to disappear into the empty hallways of the Castle. Every corner she turns is a loaded step, like Allura is waiting for the cat to spring out from behind and tear her apart.

All of the Paladins are touchy around Keith and Shiro. No one is willing to interact, but that fact doesn’t seem to bother the duo. They’re perfectly content in their own little bubble and don’t seem to mind the fact that their team is treating them with a pair of ten feet long tongs.

The tension gets to everyone, and their performance in training suffers from that. Emotions run high, and with everyone constantly locked into fight or flight mode, there are bound to be unintentional injuries. But the worst, they find, is when they fight Shiro or Keith. Where one of them is, the other is always close by. During sparring, the other would prowl the edges of the mats, eyes glinting as the cat stalks down its prey.

Most of the time, it doesn’t matter. Both of them move insanely fast, fight too hard. The match is over in mere seconds.

Most of the time, it didn’t matter. The one time it matters, the only time it matters, is when Hunk somehow manages to fire a shot that grazes the side of Shiro’s arm. Keith is on Hunk in an instant, all teeth and claws, all sharp nails that aim to kill.

They barely manage to pull Keith off, even as Hunk lies in shreds. Shiro and Keith slip off on their own as the rest of the Paladins struggle to get Hunk to the medical bay.

It takes two full quintants for the cryopod to heal him.

The savagery at which they fall at the training bots is disturbing. No holds barred, it’s all out. Wires and parts scattered across the training deck, decapitated heads like marbles upon the floor and ripped up spines dangling across the light fixtures. The parts are programmed to disappear on its own -- the training bots are just solid holograms -- but somehow, they stay on. Pidge goes through each individual system ten times to find out what’s wrong, but the only error she can find is that technically, the bots are still active . Somehow, even though they’re in pieces, the Castle thinks that the programming is still engaged, like something is keeping it alive .

Pidge isn’t able to disable it.

Their only solution is to dispose of the robotic parts. Once it is far enough away from the castle, the bots will automatically lose its connection to the Castle and dissipate. They have to do this so many times that the idea of disabling the training bots altogether is discussed and goes through.

It doesn’t matter.

The robotic parts still come back, but now, every time the Castle touches down on a planet, the parts start leaking blood instead. Locals keep disappearing, and pretty soon the Castle stops landing on planets at all. Even then, it’s like someone has acquired a taste for gore because the blood doesn’t stop flowing. Lance vows that he once saw a body dangling in the training deck in place of a punching bag, but when they go back the next morning, there’s nothing there.

Coran refuses to clean the Black Lion’s hangar anymore.

“There’s sometime wrong with it. Every time I enter, it’s like a thousand ghosts are staring at my back. The air always smells strange, and I keep feeling like there are bodies that are piling on top of me. And-”

He pauses, and his eyes dart around.

“ The Black Lion feels like a dead body in the middle of the room. It’s so cold there and I keep feeling like I’m in a morgue.”

The lights flicker overhead. Allura swears that the temperature drops by a few degrees, swears that she sees ice creep along the side of the wall. She blinks, and everything’s back to normal, but Coran is gone.

No one sees him around for hours, and by then, they’re sending search parties out in pairs.

Pidge and Hunk find Coran inside a box in the Black Lion’s hangar, barely breathing and freezing cold. Shiro and Keith are strangely missing the entire time this goes down.

Allura sets up a watch in the medical bay as Coran recovers. Everyone must travel in pairs. No one speaks of Shiro and Keith.

They’re like ghosts in the Castle, always showing up where no one expects them to be. Making out in the corner around the Yellow Lion’s hangars, staring blankly out into space at the window in the archive rooms, sitting stock still, together, always together, at the dining table at three in the morning.

Everyone must travel in pairs.

Things start disappearing, things start showing up where they shouldn’t be, the whole issue with the bots, and Allura starts feeling exactly like the time Alfor’s ghost haunted the Castle’s walls.

It takes another week before everyone cracks. They hold a meeting and the vote is unanimous. Something needs to be done before an entire planet’s population disappears, before they disappear and the universe is left undefended.

Something needs to be done before they all go insane.

Everyone is gathered in the same room, and Shiro and Keith are the live grenades that sit on the table in front of them, that sit on the couch with them.

Hunk starts.

“So, um, Keith, Shiro. We’ve been discussing about uh, some problems we’ve been having in the Castle.”

Keith doesn’t blink.

“Blood’s been appearing in our training equipment. And people’s been disappearing.”

Shiro’s gaze is empty.

“We’ve all thought about it, and we think that the both of you are behind it.”

No one breathes.

Shiro rises slowly, a smile that sits crooked breaking across his face.

“Why would you think that?”

His words are slow, all just empty concern, a psychiatric doctor talking to his inmates in an asylum, a cat to a mouse.

“W-well, it all just makes sense . Every time the bloody robots show up in the training deck, the Black Lion’s always recorded to have left the hangar, every time we get close to you guys, strange shit’s been happening, and-”

Allura cuts off Hunk’s rambling.

“The two of you haven’t been acting like yourselves. Not since you guys came back from the mission to retrieve Keith.”

Her hand is shaking.

“Keith died . He shouldn’t be here.”

They all stare at the grenade in the room, mere seconds from exploding.

Keith stands up next to Shiro. All gums and sharp teeth, mouth twisted to a convoluted shape. He’s smiling.

Shiro’s still smiling.

“Darling, looks like they don’t want us here anymore.”

“Such a pity.”

“We can’t force them to let us stay here.”

“No, we’ll have to find another home.”

Allura sees the glint of metal in Keith’s hand.

It’s all over before she can even shout a warning. The blunt side of Keith’s knife slams into the back of her head, and Allura’s down.

Her vision is hazy, blobs of red and black that sway just out of reach.

“We don’t have anything against you guys, of course. You were just in our way. Don’t worry.”

“We’ll move on, then. Just stay out of our business and I assure you, we won’t bother any of you.”

Can’t move her body. Limbs are so heavy.

Everything slips through her fingers, and into darkness.

---

There’s a throbbing in her head when she wakes. Allura is still sprawled across the floor, just like the others. Around her, the others are waking up with groans, rubbing their temples.

“What happened…?”

Allura slowly gets to her feet, leaning into the couch. Her ears are ringing, and the room is spinning in lazy circles. It’s bad — she probably has a concussion.

“Is everyone alright?”

A few grumbled affirmatives, and then the fog on her brain suddenly lifts.

Allura’s head pounds in protest as she jerks her head up, panic clearing her confusion.

“Keith- Shiro- I think they took the Black Lion!”

“Oh, no. ”

They all race to the hangars, but Allura already senses the answers before they see it.

The Black Lion is gone.

The rest of the day is a haze, half a varga in the cryopods for the concussion, half a varga to look after everyone else, then vargas used calling the Blades. What can be said is said over the transmission, and Kolivan promises to come down as soon as he is able to.

And he does, vargas after. He comes with the news that something has been slowly chipping away bits of the empire’s defence, attacking different parts of the Galra empire, mostly strategic military locations for the Galra but interspaced with planets of completely innocent people. He comes with the news that eyewitness reports have stated that the mysterious entity is black, huge, and looks suspiciously like the Black Voltron Lion.

The red bayard is missing with the black bayard, and they settle the issue of weapons for Lance. All he is left with is a sword, and no matter what they try, none of them quite seem to fit right.

Someone else usually wields the sword, after all.

Vargas after, and sleep.

Allura can’t sleep. She hasn’t been able to sleep easily for a long time now, and tonight it eludes her especially so. Tossing in bed makes the springs creak, and she can hear the mice grumbling in their baskets at the noise.

The room is silent. She doesn’t hear the mice. There are chills that dance lightly across her spine, a lump Allura can’t swallow. Slowly, slowly, she gets off the bed, and the springs don’t creak. She’s alone in her room, but still she tiptoes over to her dresser, like she’s walking around the outside of an open lion’s enclosure. Allura doesn’t know where’s the lion, and every step she takes feels like it’ll rattle the bars of the cage and the lion will descend upon her.

She tiptoes over to the dresser, and to the basket where the mice sleep. Or at least, where they should be sleeping. A final gift, mocking in the present box, just as there is nothing in the basket, and she already knows where they’ve gone.

Allura doesn’t try to sleep for the rest of the night, and spends it curled at the head of the bed.

The next morning, she’s the ghost that drifts out of the bed, lost in the Castle as she drifts from task to task. The other Paladins manage to get enough out of her to put together the story, and there’s a fury that brews under the surface now. No holds barred, and blood has stopped appearing in the training room, bodies stop appearing, and the Black Lion’s gone. The crackling energy of quintessence is gone. Their fear has crystallised into a hard ball of determination, and everyone is putting in all their effort to train.

Reports are trickling through the cracks of the empire now, through the coalition, that the empire is crumbling. The attacker is striking at every chink in the armour, a quick flash that has the Galra on their knees. It’s terrifying, because they know who is responsible.

It’s hard to think that the same couple who’s responsible for the mass killings and genocides is the same as the two who couldn’t walk straight around each other just less than a deca-phoeb ago, the same couple who fell to pieces next to each other in the training room, all blushes and awkward eye contact. Now, only blood and war mark their path.

The empire falls apart, and Zarkon’s central command is attacked. Somehow, a recording of the battle is streamed onto every screen in the universe. In all honesty, it’s less like a fight than a game of hide-and-seek, a game that Zarkon loses in spurts of blood filled taunts. When the Galra emperor teethers and collapses at last, it is only then that the Black Lion lands, raising a cloud of dust that covers Zarkon’s body.

The whole universe cowers and holds their breath when the jaws open, and there’s so much deja vu as two shadows appear in the Lion’s mouth.

They’re holding hands, and with each step they take down the hatch, each step Allura’s heart plummets. They come to a stop at the foot of Zarkon’s body, a once mighty emperor, now felled at their feet.

As one, Shiro and Keith stare into the lens. Their gaze freezes and scorches, an empty jar that overflows, that makes Allura feel like she’s being torn from inside out.

“Your emperor is dead and we will take the reins. We will bring the universe to heights never seen before. If anyone tries to question our rule…”

Shiro hefts up Zarkon’s body by the collar, unforgiving in his grip. The red bayard shines in Keith’s hand, and it lengthens into a sword.

“Let this be a warning.”

Keith raises the sword, a purple blade to the backdrop of the purple skies, stars that shine weakly in space. There are no shooting stars to make a wish on.

He slices off Zarkon’s head. The whole thing is much more simple than it should be, Zarkon’s head toppling off his shoulders and falling onto the ground, disappearing soundlessly even as his headless body spurts blood into space.

It splatters onto their helmets, a stark dark red that covers the visor. The entire body folds in on itself, crumpled and small, and the whole universe is forced to watch Zarkon’s humiliating end.

Allura feels like she should feel some form of happiness that Zarkon was dead, Zarkon, who destroyed her planet and her people and her family , Zarkon, who destroyed the lives of so many people across the galaxies, across ten thousand years, but all she can feel is the horror that’s wrapped her in its constricting embrace. It tightens around her ribs, squeezing out her lungs, collapsing her legs, and the video ends.

The savagery does not.

It takes a little over one quintant to trap Haggar, and she goes in the exact same way Zarkon does, a game of hide-and-seek through a dead Galra city, bodies decorating the streets as she runs from an invisible enemy.

Haggar is vaporised by the Black Lion’s beam, her screams ringing in the bridge even after the video ends.

---

The developments over the next few days are watched carefully by the rebels -- Blades, Voltron, the Voltron Coalition. If there is any way to salvage the situation, to get through to Shiro and Keith, this would be the best position the resistance has ever been in, regardless of how they got there.

None of the Paladins are particularly keen to visit Shiro or Keith after everything that’s happened, everything that they’ve seen on the screens. Shiro and Keith are really doing all they can to squash any resistance to their takeover.

Nonetheless, as defenders of the universe, no one has any very vocal objections and oblige the Coalition’s request to visit the new Central Command.

Purple decorates the halls of the ship, banners still tattered and ripped in their holdings. The Paladins follow a Galra sentry through the ship, and they don’t run into anyone as they traverse the massive ship, just rows on rows of empty hallways and silent doors. Their shuffling footsteps are the only sounds that echo in the rooms, uncertain and out of their element.

None of the Paladins belong here, and the whole universe knows it.

The colossal doors open into a painfully majestic throne room, terrible in all of its glory. The way Shiro and Keith are dressed makes Allura choke on how wrong this all is. Their armour is splashed with violent indigos and reds, blacks and blues, the Voltron armour taken and twisted into something terrible, the very idea of a Paladin, someone of honour, justice, courage, corrupted until they’ve become the very antithesis of a Paladin, until only the end justifies the means remain.

Allura chokes, on her words and her feelings, and nothing goes right when she starts screaming at them about all the lives that have been lost, about all the terrible things they have done, about how they are no better than Zarkon is, now. Something in their faces twists at the very last sentence, all in sync, always in sync, hands tightening around each other, and the Paladins are thrown out of Central Command.

No one speaks on the flight back to the Castle, and Allura wallows in her hate, alone. Hate at the Galra, hate at herself, the beginnings of something unspeakable towards Shiro and Keith. Even then, afterwards, Lance catches her by the arm and there’s an unreadable emotion in his eyes. He tells her that no one blames her for ruining their only chance at negotiation, and his eyes are wet when he speaks.

Strangely enough, during raids conducted by the new emperors of the Galra empire, they always steer clear of bases that belong to the Voltron Coalition. Some say that it’s an act of goodwill, some say that Shiro and Keith are scared of them, some say that they simply see no interest in taking over areas already controlled by the Coalition.

In the end, they are all rumours.

Any rebellion is squashed, and then the empire’s attention turns towards the Coalition.

Base after base, whole populations after populations, millions of casualties that mark planets in a sea of red.

There no prisoners, no slaves. It’s just a massacre .

The Coalition falls apart, and there is no other option. Shiro and Keith have to be taken down now or there will be no one left to stop them.

What’s left of the Coalition meets, and what’s left of the Coalition agrees. This is going to be their last fight, one way or another. They send out as many fighters as they are able to afford, and together with Voltron, plunge into enemy territory.

The fighting lacks the usual colourful communications that fly over the systems. No one speaks except when necessary, tense remarks to watch your left or fighters at six o’clock .

Voltron does significantly better than the Coalition and Marmoran fighters. Slowly, layer after layer of rebel fighters is stripped away, blown to cosmic dust in a trail of death that follows Voltron.

The deeper they get into the empire, the worse everything becomes. It almost feels like the universe is falling into decay, something eating at the seams of existence. The silence that festers in Central Command has infected whole galaxies, leaving behind empty cities as bodies rot in the heat of the unforgiving stars.

The closer they get to Central Command, the worse everything becomes. Now, only ghosts inhabit once bustling planets, lively trade routes. On an uneasy trip to a possible truce just movements ago, the routes were still active. Now, only battlecruisers and Galra fighters wait for them, civilian ships scattered around them, pink snow on the ground.

The fights take something more than physical out of Allura, and out of all the fighters that remain. Not a single one of them sleep easily, and the few time Allura manages to dream, it’s always of the screams as her planet dies, always of the screams as her family, then and now, dies, always the silence in the cities that have been decimated, the lone cry of a child in the distance longing for her father.

They can’t form Voltron without the Black Lion, and each fight takes too much when they already have too little. The group tries their best, but it’s only a matter of time until only Voltron is left.

Watch your left .

Fighters at six o’clock .

They reach Central Command, and Allura feels the most tired she ever has felt since waking from her ten-thousand-year-long sleep.

---

The Lions crash and burn.

Four Lions against one, four Paladins against two. The winner should have been decided from the start. But Black blinks around the fighting field, too fast for Red to catch, too strong for Green to repel, and they can’t form Voltron.

The loss hits Allura hard, and they finally know how much everyone has relied on Voltron to save the day. They’re supposed to be the most powerful weapon in the universe, but how are they supposed to save the world when they’re fighting amongst each other?

The loss hits Allura hard, and so does the fear that strikes her, deep and guttural, when Black’s beam hits Green one time too many and the light in her eyes splutter and die.

The Green Lion falls, and doesn’t get up.

They can’t reach Pidge over their comms, and her silence is telling enough. It’s rage that fuels their movements, lasers blazing as destruction dots the wreckage that’s already around them, wreckage that used to be the outer ring of Central Command. It’s rage that costs them dearly, and Allura can’t think straight anymore when she gathers everything she has to fire what she’s so certain will be the killing shot.

The Black Lion blinks out of existence, and she hits the Yellow Lion.

She doesn’t even yell, stalling in the middle of the battle as she watches Yellow plummet, a puppet with its strings cut, Pinocchio as he dies.

Her hands shake, but there are no tears, no time for tears when Black comes crashing into Blue like Yellow crashes into the surface of Central Command. There’s a battle to fight, to win because they can’t afford to lose.

Now it’s two on two, Allura and Lance against Shiro and Keith, weaving a dance of ruins and plasma that burns too close for comfort. Keith always laughs, Shiro always taunts, and each word they exchange stabs Allura in her heart when she remembers their lilting tone, how they used to sound, how they used to be . Eventually, they take the fight to the ground, Lions spent and discarded on their sides. There’s nothing left to lose, anyway.

The way Shiro and Keith fight, always in sync, always together, is something that’s beautiful and terrible, like Medusa gazing upon them and turning them to stone.

It’s a fight they’re supposed to win, but the world is never fair, and the universe never has enough shooting stars to grant the correct wishes, and it’s a fight that they lose.

Keith strikes Lance down, red bayard through the chest in the cruellest irony, and he heaves up blood that splatters on the inside of his helmet.

“Sorry... Al...lura…”

Her mouth forms his name, words tearing out of her throat and her eyes wide with horror.

She remembers Altea’s death as Lance slowly slides to his knees,

-- bright explosions that rock the floor beneath her, and her world lay in dust, not even rubble left to mourn --

and tumbles like a ragdoll to the ground.

She remembers soft flowers and her father’s fingers as they tickled her chin-

She remembers a food fight and the loud laughter afterwards, finally working together-

She remembers a warm hug from her father and her mother and-

She remembers a warm hug from her new family, from Coran and Pidge and Hunk and Lance and Shiro and Keith-

Allura remembers, blurry images that snatch across her vision, and then she doesn’t remember at all, memories scattering like the petals that drift in the wind in her dreams.

(A sword protrudes from her back. Dust whispers across the ruins, afraid to disturb the scene.

Two shadows walk away, one black, one red, hand in hand until they become one in the distance.)

[nanamismoonchild]

Chapter 5- The Forgotten

Title: The Forgotten

Author: Nam

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Au: Werewolf

Warmth spread through my unconsciousness.

What happened?

“Oh-Oh, she’s not dead,” I hear someone cheer.

Oh…yeah… Namjoon was telling me that I’m a werewolf hybrid and then I fainted. Too much information at once. Things were too strange to not believe him.  I felt a rumble underneath me-must have been the bed I was on.  It was really soft.

“Mom, should Hobi-hyung be underneath Y/N like that?”

“Well, it’s the only way I can wake her up.”

Underneath…me?

Warning bells sounded off in my head, and my eyes flew wide open.  Only to see a giant wolf face.

Jungkook smiled, “Y/N! You’re okay!”

“Hobi, you might want to…”

I scream, scrambling off the belly of the monster. Then I noticed that the air smelled eerily like wet dog.  Looking around, I saw that i was not surrounded by men ( besides Jungkook) but 7 12-foot tall werewolves.  

My scream grew even louder as I rushed out of the house.  

That did not go well.

Halfway toward my house, I paused to catch my breath. I did not need the neighborhood to think I was a  crazy teen running from nothing. I was already the the friendless teen.  

I sat on the curb, holding my head between my legs. Being blasted with new information then actually seeing it was enough for me.  I could piece the rest together.  Dad had been a werewolf and Mom had been human, so that makes me a wolf-human? But werewolves are already shape-shifting humans right?  

I started walking again. Walking gives  me time to collect my thoughts. I remember something Namjoon said before I passed out:

    “Your father did not listen to our warning and married your mother, who was indeed another species of supernatural….”

So does that mean I’m not human at all? Or am I one-fourth human since werewolves are half-human? Regardless I am a hybrid. I wish I had parents to explain this to me, but sadly they died before they could.  Well not died, but murdered the same way my grandparents were.  But there was one more family member who knew everything.

Aunt Noel. She was still alive and walking. She was the only member alive, and the only member who somehow hated me.  Neither her husband nor her spoiled children. But she was the only person I could talk to.   I will just have to call her when I get home-if she answers.

I found myself, practically running to the house. This was a chance to finally know another piece about myself and to connect with Noel.  

Why hadn’t she told me earlier? She had obviously known about this; she wrote a freaking book based on her “adventures.” Why hadn’t she told me the last time she saw me?  Sure, the last time I  saw her was in a shopping mall–buying school supplies.  

    “Y/N, what are you doing here?” I turn around to see my aunt and my cousins. They were each holding a three bags in a hand.

   “Buying supplies.”

Jinhyun, the daughter my age, snorts, “With what money?”

Jinyoung, the son also my age, snarks, , “ The money she doesn’t have.  “

I sigh. I didn’t have time for either of them. The sale is was going to end in one hour and I was only on pens and pencils.

They all laugh as if it were the funniest thing ever.  I roll my eyes and try to move to the notebook section. My eyes were on the one with the basket full of puppies.

Noel blocked my advance, “ It’s actually nice that I met you here. I don’t need to go to that bastardly house. Who knows what you have been doing. You might even be waiting for a man here.”

I could just slap her if it wasn’t for the fact that a lady was trying to take my notebook.

“What do you want?”

“ I just wanted to tell you about something I forgot. Your father wanted me to give you a letter.”

    I wait for her to give it to me.  “And where is it?”

“Oh, it’s in his room, “ She takes a moment to think, “In a shoebox. Good luck finding it. “ She, Jinyoung, and Jihyun walk out the store.  However, Taehyun stays behind. She was the quietest of her siblings and takes pity on me whenever they pulled a prank.  

    I ignore her and continue to sift through notebooks–the puppy basket was gone.  I felt someone move behind me. It was her.

“I saw you looking at this while Mom was talking and I grabbed it before that lady did,” she hands the puppy basket notebook to me.

    I eagerly take it, “Thank you. “

    She stares at me before saying, “ Mom won’t tell you this but… You’re really special to our family. If you ever want to know what I mean, I can… I can help you. “ And with that, she hurriedly catches up with her mom and siblings.

I had never spoken to her or my aunt since then. I was too afraid of learning I was adopted or something. But now, I desperately needed answers.  I was either getting them from Aunt Noel or Taehyun.  

Opening the door to my house, the hairs on my neck stood up.  Something had changed. Did someone come fix the air conditioner? It had been broken and the house had been a desert. Usually they left a note, but the guy they sent must have been lazy.

Even so, I grabbed the bat I keep near the door and turn on the lights. I walked towards the kitchen, since it’s the place thieves steal  from first. Nothing. Until I rounded the island.  There was a huge glob of my peanut butter, bread, and bananas on the floor. I stared at the mess for a long time.  That was my favorite peanut butter, for one, and they didn’t bother to clean up the mess.  How rude.

Thunk! Thunk!

“Oh….hell…”

Spinning around, I see a shadow run up the stairs. Every sense in me told me to not run up the stairs, but curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.  I tiptoed up the stairs making sure not to step on creaks.  It was dark in the hallway but the light to my parents room was on. I lifted my bat ready to swing if I needed to. Steadily toeing my way though, I listened for the tell-tale noises of an intruder. The room was silent as it normally is.  I had never stepped into this room before now; I abandoned this room when my parents died.  I didn’t need the memories.

I let my bat drop loosely, and sighed. Maybe it had been my imagination. Turning around to walk out, I banged my head on a wall. A furry wall. A breathy growling furry wall.

I squeaked.

The wolf launched its snarling mouth at me, but I used the bat to keep it open while I ran away.  Three stairs down, I heard the bat snap. It was metal, and the wolf had easily broken it.  With that thought,  I ducked inside the storage closet.  I thought about all the ways Teen Wolf  and Twilight had written about wolves.  

Smell. He probably has a scent of me. I knew there was a bottle of Bleach on the upper shelf. Maybe if i drowned my body in it, I could mask my scent.  I reach up for the bottle, unscrewing it, and, holding my breath, doused myself in the foul smelling stuff.

Sound. I had to be as still as not to cause a single sound. How do I do that? I don’t know, but this is life or death and I wanted life.

Sight.  More than likely the guy could see in the dark, so if he somehow opened the door, I was screwed.

Tough skin-  No knives could help me. Not even silver.  I would have been dead a long time ago.

I had to sit quietly. However long that took.  

Two hours had passed according to the little clock on the wall, and the wolf had not noticed me yet. He hadn’t left–I could hear him in the kitchen. Probably eating more of my peanut butter.

I could not be a sitting duck any longer. If I only I had a phone, then I could contact Taehyung or Aunt Noel if it needed be. But sadly, I was too stubborn ( and lazy ) to go out and buy a phone.  I always used the house phone. I didn’t have friends to call anyway. Plus if I used it, the beast in the kitchen would hear my voice amid his munching.

Wait…. Could I use the mind-talking Jin and Jimin used? Only one way to find out.  

Hello…?

Well, I didn’t expect it to work. I don’t have any idea of how to work this. Maybe I don’t even have the stupid thing.  Regardless, I tried again.

Jin-oppa! Can you hear me?

Nothing again.  What had Jin said? That you have to be in close proximity. Well, I totally couldn’t get close.  But what if I pictured Jin or any of the boys in my head?  I took a deep breath and focused on any boy.  Dark brown hair with a deep tan… Taehyung.

I exhaled.  Taehyung?

There was a something that sounded like  television static then it connected

Y/N? What’s wrong? How are you doing this?

Don’t worry about that. Is anyone else listening?

Yes. The other guys.

Well… I am kind of stuck in a situation.

What?

There’s sort of a man-eating werewolf in my kitchen eating my peanut butter.

The connection was cut short. Only because the door of the closet flew open. A man’s hands grabbed me by the collar.  I squeaked.

“Did you think you could hide forever? I smelled you before you poured the bleach on you. I just wanted to tease you,” Wolf-man growled into my ear. “By the way, you have great taste in peanut butter.”

I kicked him in the place where it hurts the most. He was momentarily shocked but that’s all I needed to wiggle out of his arms and run.  I was halfway down the driveway when Wolf-man came bounding after me. He springs up, his teeth bared, but I dive to the side.  I threw a stick at him… It didn’t work.  Miffed, Wolf-man roars and charges. I would have been killed if it wasn’t for another wolf crashing into Wolf-man, knocking him through the doorway.

“My house!”

That’s the least of your problems right now Y/N.

It was Namjoon’s voice-thought. Behind me, I hear six other howls.  They had come for me… Taehyung had listened… They had listened…

A midnight blue wolf with scarlet eyes pushes against me with his snout.  It’s best if you go to our house.  It was Yoongi.  

I nod. I could only guess what was going to happen to mine.  A deep chestnut wolf with the same colored eyes lets me get on top of him.  It’s ok. I will try and  salvage some of your things.  Jin.

But for now, let’s get you to safety.

[sleepy-skeletonsblog-blog]

The Bone Collector

Also posted on Reddit in r/nosleep

I grew up in a nice gated community in a large home with families so overly chipper it'd make you puke if you weren't used to it.

So when the first murder occurred, we were all completely and utterly shocked.

Mother's hid their children's eyes as they peered with horror at Mrs. Petersons' bloodied body. She was obviously dead. The killer had sliced her neck nearly down to the bone of her spine.

I, on the other hand, had some sense still in me (in other words, not frozen in time); I called 9-1-1 and when they answered I found my mouth to be a bit dry as I mumbled.

"Sir, sir? What's the problem?" The 9-1-1 operator asked.

"There's... been a murder." I said slowly, feeling hesitant. How could this happen in our charming community? What did this person want? Money?

"A murder? Sir are you safe?"

"Yes and yes." I said, scratching my eyebrow as I tried to shoo away the onlookers, pointing at my phone and mouthing, "Nine-one-one."

Soon the police arrived.

Then the paramedics.

Then the firemen.

Then her recently divorced husband.

Yellow tape bordered Mrs. Petersons' yard, but that didn't stop him from running under it and stumbling over to where her body was lying. He wept violently as the police dragged him from her mangled body.

His cries echoed through my skull.

I cringed as chills traveled up my spine, settling in the form of goosebumps.

They packaged up her body and later drove away, leaving a distraught ex-husband to follow behind in his shitty car. She had taken all of his money.

A week later, word spread, as drama and gossip and most definitely murder case details do, and I learned that she was missing a right rib.

A trophy for the killer? Probably.

I hoped, for a while, that they'd catch the son-of-a-bitch who did this.

Who in their right mind randomly kills to that extreme?

I, however, was in for a rude awakening.

The second murder happened very early in the morning and I don't quite remember how I discovered the body- I was prone to sleepwalking- but I remember looking down at my neighbors body in her back yard and feeling a strange aching pain in my chest.

I called 9-1-1, and mumbled to the operator, "There's... been a murder."

I explained with drowsy eyes that I found her in her back yard, her neck sliced open nearly down to the bone of her spine. I noticed that part of one of her fingers was missing and told the operator that, too.

Police, paramedics, and firemen came.

They hauled her body away as I comforted my neighbor and his child. He sobbed into my shoulder as he held onto me for dear life.

I bit back my pleas to not be touched as I wasn't very fond of that. I patted his back awkwardly as I looked down at his young child. She looked up at me with wide, confused eyes. She tugged on the back of her father's shirt and asked, "Daddy? Why are you crying? Is Mommy okay?"

This only caused him to nearly choke the life out of me.

On the day of the third murder, I found out at work.

Her neck was sliced nearly to the bone of her spine and she was missing her femur.

Her femur. Not the flesh that surrounds it. Just the bone.

That is a seemingly difficult task, removing the femur.

It seemed like whoever it was, was collecting bones.

On the days of the forth, fifth, and sixth murders, I began to feel nervous. I'd hardly step foot out of my house unless it was for work or for grocery shopping.

On the day of the seventh murder, I was beginning to feel concerned. How in the world had I managed to sleepwalk all the way down the road and into some random person's yard is beyond me.

I called 9-1-1 and said slowly, "There's... been a murder."

The cops were very suspicious of me.

"Mr. Braxton, again?" Those were their words when they heard that I had found the body.

I had to explain to them that I'm under constant stress and that's why I sleep walk. I also suffer from slight memory loss due to a concussion I recently had in a work-related accident. I'm an osteologist; I study bones.

Though, I admit, lately I've been having a hard time remembering some of the bone names.

The cops let me go and watched me with suspicious eyes.

Months passed and more murders occurred. It was actually terrifying to know that some man or woman was out there stealing bones from people's bodies after they silenced them to an eternal rest.

Meanwhile, I became quite desensitized to the subject matter. I had other things on my mind, like how to regain my memories.

I went through all types of therapies and even tried hypnosis.

Nothing really seemed to work. The doctors told me that they may permanently be lost, forever locked away in a vault at the back of my mind. I never did fully lose all of my memories, though.

I then carried note cards with me and wrote down all the important events and it seemed to work well for a while.

The murderer even took a break.

At least that's what I heard. I took a vacation to get away from everyone I knew. I was performing poorly at my job, having forgot some of the names of the bones I was supposed to study.

The night I came back, I felt refreshed. Ready to start anew.

I studied every night which resulted in higher levels of stress and my sleepwalking tendencies to grow.

On the day of the... Well I lost count at this point. This time I woke up with a bruised cheek and blood on my shirt. It wasn't a lot and I just assumed it was from a bloody nose.

The bruise, however, I couldn't wrap my mind around.

As I thought about it, I suddenly remember all 27 of the bones in the human hand.

I looked down at my own hand and mumbled to myself the bones in my hand as I traced my finger over the bumps of my knuckles.

I grinned and repeated myself over and over. I even called my doctor and spoke with joy over the phone. "That's fantastic Mr. Braxton!" He praised. He seemed surprised but also very happy for me.

Soon I became numb to the serial killer on the loose.

My mind was finally doing what it was supposed to do.

I was all smiles as I waved to my neighbors. My depression melted away and for once in my life, I felt stress free.

I still sleptwalk, kinda. I didn't make it as far as I used to and normally stayed within my property line. I have found myself waking up on the back porch or in the garage. When that happened, I felt a strange urge, like I was supposed to be doing something.

Then there were the nights that I woke up with blood on my clothes.

I kept telling myself it was bloody noses but... We all know it wasn't.

The night I woke up in a town over with my hand holding onto the hairs of a woman who clawed at my hand, I knew.

I did my deed mindlessly and watched as blood oozed from her neck.

Then my hands went to work. I didn't even feel like I was controlling my own body, and before I knew it I held some bloody teeth in my hand.

I was completely baffled as I cleaned under her fingernails and whatnot. From the looks of it, I was pretty good at this. They wouldn't find her body any time soon, either.

Then I woke up in my bed, clean and well rested. I thought it was all some silly dream that my mind had conjured up due to the news plastering recent killings everywhere.

I went along with my day, having an 'eureka' moment as I remembered my way around a skull and all the skull sutures and whatnot.

On the day of another murder, I woke up in my basement. I rarely go into my basement.

What I saw shocked me for the first time in a while.

A partially built skeleton hung from the wall and there were bones that couldn't quite be hung up yet set neatly aside.

Medical equipment lined numerous tables and there was one large examination table in the middle of the room. It smelled of lemon bleach and my nose burned slightly given to how strong the smell was.

I walked over to the skeleton and traced my fingers over the random bones that were placed in the correct spots. Labels littered the bones and there were notes scattered everywhere. Apparently I had done some work in the basement as well.

I studied to the extreme, apparently.

I stood back and admired the female skeleton I was building (you could obviously tell by the degree of her pelvis) which I could now enjoy in my waking moments as well as my sleeping ones.

But it's not finished and neither am I.

There are 206 bones in the average human body and I hardly have half.

(Sleepy Skeletons Club)

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #01: Heirs Apparent

John quit fidgeting with the tray in front of him. The latch made a satisfying click each time he set it back upwards and it helped pass the time. He looked over to Mike who had been asleep with a huge pair of headphones on for the last four hours. NSFW was finally on their way home after gallivanting across two continents in a whirlwind tour of media appearances, and even though they’d had a wonderful time they were looking forward to coming home again. Moments after their victory in Milan, the novelty of their idea to combat Donkey Punch’s unorthodox behavior began to wear off. They quickly packed away their costumes and hid themselves away to collect their thoughts. Via second hand info, they would know their dance card. John knew that the television championship defense was inevitable but the chance to officially stake their claim as the number one contenders to the Tag Team Championships was a bit of a pleasant surprise. Their friend, Natalie Young, had scored a win as well, something that added an extra bit of sparkle to things, despite the ugliness the match had contained- thankfully, they’d managed to keep her from getting hurt even worse than she had during the match itself. They’d helped her back to the trainer’s office after foiling Jeff Noon’s plans, and while Mike was a little reluctant to leave her, John had gently but firmly insisted that the best way they could help her was to let the medical professionals do their job. Still, they both weren’t without their feelings of concern for her. They both liked her a good deal, and the idea of rising up together to claim the respective titles they were gunning for was a very appealing one. Mike especially was rather partial to this. After all, a bit of her time in Italy was spent on a date with the Southern Belle, gliding over the canals of Venice. Natalie had spent a good portion of it asleep, but seeing as her pillow was Mike’s shoulder, the New York brawler was hardly going to complain about it. In fact, she’d come back to the hotel that night in an absolutely effervescent mood, and it still made her rather daydreamy to think about it. Judging by the sweet little smile on her sleeping face, she was probably dreaming about it right now. Apprehensively, John tapped her on the forearm. "Mike?" "Mmmm?" She opened one eye, flicking her headphones down around her neck, and yawned. "Yeah, buddy, what's up?" Her shoulders rolled, cracking slightly. Her Mets cap was a bit askew under the band of her headphones, and what hair was sticking from beneath it was ruffled up. Reaching her hands to her face, she rubbed at her eyes and sat up a bit, turning her iPod off and giving her partner her full attention. There had been something that John had been thinking about after he started to include Mike in his stories. There was something picking at the corner of his mind. His recent world travels reaffirmed this. He had read and read about all of these wonderful places and even he was not afraid to admit that seeing them in person was much better. In the same way, he had read and read about how diverse the human condition truly was but it only mattered if you could experience it in person. "Would you prefer," he paused, "like, if I were he and him, you could be they and them?" he looked out the window and observed the wings slicing through the white fluffy clouds with ease. She blinked, sitting up ramrod straight. Whatever grogginess was left in her head poofed away like a wisp of fog in a hard breeze. "What... did you say?" She didn't sound angry or insulted- she sounded outright amazed. What he’d just asked was something she’d wanted to be asked for some time now, long before they even met. Something she knew about herself, but had been timid about revealing- in fact, it was the only thing she was really timid about at all. And here was her partner, asking it out of the blue. "You read what you did. I feel like I wasn't being accurate.” John looked upwards and his expression looked like he was calculating something. “I played a little with it. At first, I thought I was just being loyal to the time period and the lore, but the more and more I mulled over the idea, it raised the possibility of art imitating life.” He leveled his gaze at Mike and spoke softly, but directly. “Would you prefer they and them?" "I... I-I...." She didn’t really understand what he meant by the ‘time period’ stuff- maybe he’d written something she didn’t know about yet. Come to think, he’d been writing on their way to Belarus, hadn’t he? But that didn’t really matter now. She blushed, looking downward a bit at her nervously shuffling sneakers, smiling a little. "It don't matter, really... I've been goin' by 'she' forever. 'S more convenient that way." If any other person said this in the way that John did, it would be considered very confrontational. “Convenient to who?” “I dunno. People. Me. I mean, think about it. Mouthbreathers like Draco, like Romono. I shouldn’t… CARE what those morons think.” She clenched her fists a bit, something clouding her expression. Anger, sadness… and something as alien to everything Church knew about her as pink ruffles and hairbows. “You heard what that bleach blond fuck said. He said all that and he didn’t know shit. Can you imagine the crap he’d pull if he knew what I really was? Shit, he’d be salivating at all the fuckin’ synonyms for ‘freak’ he could use. And even people who seem cool now… nnngh. They might not be so cool if they knew I didn’t… fit.” She gripped onto her upper arms, folding inward a little, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. John didn’t exactly understand on how this benefited anyone. In fact, physical contact made his skin crawl and he couldn’t figure out why. He sometimes wanted to admonish himself for tensing up every time someone, even Mike, laid a hand on him. And it was strange, inside the ring, it didn’t matter. John pushed that trepidation aside as if it were a plate of food he didn’t have the stomach for. He turned in his head and and looked down at his trembling hand. He steadied it and placed it on top of Mike’s hand, “They don’t have to know if you don’t want them to.” He leaned in closer. “But I like you no matter what. You are the first friend I’ve had in a very long time and well, I guess that is easy considering the circumstances.” He paused and clenched his teeth with a slight tic of frustration. “And thinking back on it, no one I knew seemed to get me and I could never figure out why. I feel like maybe you have felt the same way?” For Mike’s part, she’d like to turn her hand over. Hold on. But she doesn’t. She wanted physicality, craved it to be honest, even in a purely platonic manner. It was just the sort of person she was. Even her anger tended to veer toward physicality: punch first, ask questions later, though she was doing better with that lately. She’d like it if she could hold his hand. She’d really like it if he hugged her, not even in a romantic sense. Just basic human contact. But Church didn’t like that stuff. Why, she didn’t know, some people just didn’t like being touched and that was okay. So, she tried to comply to the best of her ability. His words were helping as they were, and even this slight contact was a big deal, and she relished it. “Yeah. All the time. And I haven’t really had any real friends for ages, either. The guys at the garage, I guess, but there’s only so chummy you can be with people who fuckin’ work for you. I like you a lot. I like you more than almost anybody. I dunno if fate’s a thing, or you think fate’s a thing, but whatever made you wind up at my shop… heh. I’m glad it happened. Aw, fuck, I’m bein’ all mushy, sorry.” She smiled sheepishly, her free hand running over her face. Something clicked for John. He removed his hand from hers and reached under his seat. He pulled out his carry-on bag and quickly retrieved the correct notebook. John opened it at the right spot and handed it to Mike, “I don’t think our plans went as smooth as I thought they would but in retrospect that really wasn’t why I wrote it.” “Whoa. Really, can I?” Mike’s eyes lit up, and, stretching back out, they reached out and took the notebook in an almost reverent manner, and eagerly began to read. Afterwards, though, Mike and John agreed that this, for now, was their secret. Perhaps it wouldn’t always be this way, but for now, it was something to be shared between them and them alone. It was something they held in quiet solidarity, even as they gathered up their luggage and caught an Uber home. A day off would have been nice. But frankly, with what they had coming up? They mutually decided that they had little time to waste. Maybe it wasn’t the opportunity they wanted, but it was an opportunity FOR that opportunity, and that was something that neither of them were about to take lightly. So they’d slept a few hours to shake off the travel fatigue, and after that, warmed up in the garage, and after that, they hit the ring. They’d trained for hours, stopping only for brief periods to rest and hydrate, and only now, at twilight, did they stop: sweaty, panting, worn out, but in a good way. A good tired. They both laid out on the canvas, their heads beside each other in the center, looking through the maple’s leaves at the emerging stars. The soft greenish glow of fireflies flickered illumination through the yard. The sounds of a suburban summer evening surrounded them: the chirp of crickets, a soft breeze rustling the leaves slightly, the laughter of children getting their last bits of play in before their parents called them inside to wash up for bed. “Phew. We keep it up like that, we’re gonna be ready for fuckin’ anything. What do you think?” “I have no doubt about that.” “What about you?” They sat up slowly, stretching, bringing a hand up to wipe some sweat off their brow. “I mean, shit. We have this, you have the TV Title to worry about on top of it. It isn’t gonna be too much for you to handle, is it? I mean, not that I don’t have fuckin’ faith in you. You know I do. It’s just, y’know. A lot.” John sat up, too. “This is what I wanted to do all my life.” “I know, but--” They stopped, smiled, and shook their head. “You know what? Ain’t no buts. If anybody can pull this off, it’s you. You can do it. You can be a real double champ- not like fuckin’ Garcia who has to make up his own title to be double champ with.” “Maybe one day you can join me in that distinction.” “Me? Maybe.” They tilted their head back. It was really starting to get dark now, the stars bright, the moon starting to fill out. It was really a beautiful night. “I ain’t as good as you in a technical sense. But who knows, give me someone to whoop on with absolutely no fuckin’ finesse and maybe I could pull it off. But for now? I’m more focused on givin’ this tag division some serious CPR.” “Seems like its working, partner.” John climbed to his feet, turned, and then extended a hand out to them to join him. “We have ourselves the start of a real division going these days.” They took it just long enough to pull themselves to their feet, immediately letting go afterward, not wanting to ‘wear out their welcome’ so to speak. Little things. Little baby steps. A bro-hug here, a hand out to help them up there. Maybe someday a little more, but for now? They knew not to push it. “Yeah. Three teams in this match, including us. Did we even HAVE three fuckin’ teams a couple weeks ago?”They snickered a little. “It’s like blood in the water, Mike. They see that those two can be defeated. They have it wrong, though. We’re the part of the equation that breaks this status quo. The others are the same tired formula that put this division on the shelf in the first place.” “Hold on. Hold that thought.” Sliding out of the ring, Mike bounded over to a nearby picnic table where a couple bottles of Gatorade in various stages of fullness sat, and nabbed their phone and ever-trusty selfie stick before rolling back in, keying up a familiar setting. They stood side by side in the hot mess of a ring in their backyard, each in workout gear dappled with sweat, illuminated by moonlight, starlight, and the light of the phone that Mike was filming with. “Say hey, EWC faithful! It’s ya boys, NSFW, and we are, well, home. I personally wanna thank all the awesome people of Milan and Minsk, and a special thank you to that cute gondolier in Venice who really made the night of yours truly and her very charming date.” She winks, a coy grin on her face. “Hope to do another world tour again sometime. But now, we got our very first Pay-Per-View to look forward to!” “I guess it’s my second. But we can always pretend it’s my first time.” She tried so hard, but for all her efforts, she couldn’t suppress a bit of a snicker, eyes twinkling. “Wait. What did I say?” “Nothin’. I’ll tell you later. But anyway. A triple threat! Us, a scrappy, hungry pair of upstarts who’ve clawed our way from the bottom to finally get an opportunity… for an opportunity. But hey, it’s better than what we had, and we’re gonna make somethin’ out of it. I mean, we only pinned the champions, no big deal, but since we gotta prove ourselves one more time? We ain’t gonna leave a shred of doubt that we’re the heirs apparent to Pirate and Puss’ ill gotten gains. We’ve worked too fuckin’ hard and come too fuckin’ far. We ain’t bein’ asked to be handed anything. We don’t need favors and we sure’s fuck don’t need to invent our own accolades. Oh, and we don’t need to rattle off our Dubyas and Ells, either.” “You can see them all for only $7.95 a month. But first, buy one of our shirts.” “Summer special! Every purchase from the NSFW section of the EWCshop gets you two free fidget spinners and a free pair of pool floaties!” “And this just in. Our new NSFW survival buckets. Straight from Jim Bakker’s warehouse.” “Too expensive for him, but just right for us! Survive your fuckin’ holy apocalypse with the Cadillac of food! Pancakes, pizza, creamy potato soup that absolutely isn’t just wallpaper paste and chives, and Mexican food that real Mexicans approve of! Oh, and speakin’ of Mexicans… CARLOS RUIZ IS NOT MEXICAN.” Post-production, NSFW requested a tantalizing shot of an enchilada. John voiced the shot over. “You don’t have to be Mexican to enjoy this enchilada served with … real? Yes, real queso cheese.” “Oh, lovely.” The shot abruptly ends and NSFW were conversing amongst themselves in hushed tones. “And now we’ve learned that online shopping while intoxicated is not advisable. Four hundred buckets.” “I know, I know, geez I’m never gonna fuckin’ live that down, am I? Eh well, I deserve it. Shit.” She paused, then slowly, along with her partner, looked at the still recording camera. “Aw, fuck, you guys didn’t see that. BUY OUR BUCKETS. FOR THE JEEZUS. Anyway! Yeah. So there’s two other teams in this shindig. One is MUCHO GRANDE! Shit that’s fun to say. But yeah, they’re cool. On a bit of a hot streak too, not to mention Carlos Ruiz- as previously noted, NOT A MEXICAN...” “And very hygienic.” “...is a pal of ours. Unfortunately, that don’t mean we’re gonna be taking it at all easy on him, or his soup-obsessed partner Grizzly. Aw, shit, I’ve wanted to fuckin’ fight Grizzly since I got here. You know what I love? I love kicking the shinola out of guys bigger than me. It’s fuckin’ fun.” “Not very fun for them. But Mike, you’re right. I’ve been looking forward to seeing them across from us, too. It was much hyped and they have not disappointed thus far. And I’m sure they feel the same way but I’m sorry to get what we rightfully deserve, we have to go through you. Doesn’t mean we underestimate them but NSFW knows what they are capable of. And you know what I like about them? They seem to have the idea of this team thing down. Two friends working together.” “Yeah, it’s gonna be nice to go toe-to-toe with somebody that ain’t just another one-and-one. They’ve been working hard. They deserve to be in this match. They deserve, like we do, this opportunity- unfortunately, they ain’t gonna GET it, because friends or not we ain’t gonna lay down for them or fuckin’ anybody, but they deserve to try for it. They put their dues in, they have wins under their belt, they’re showing their goddamn mettle… and then there’s Bulletproof. Who… okay, who the blue hell is Bulletproof?” John shrugged. “You know who they are, Mike. I told you about them earlier.” He paused and looked at Mike considering something, “Oh. You’re being facetious.” “I mean, I would just fuckin’ love to know how these guys magically appeared outta nowhere and got in this match. Even motherfuckin’ Collateral Damage have done more, and as loathe I am to say it, having those fucks in this match’d make more sense.” “And there is no doubt that is something for them to crow about. They walk into their first match and make an emphatic statement. This is their division. But you know what my first impression was, Mike?” “Please, partner, enlighten me.” “Three young men so indistinguishable from each other that no matter who talked, it seemed like one voice. And maybe some would see that as a compliment. I assure you that it is not. These men think that they are hated because people are envious of their militant attitudes and approach to teamwork. They love to hear themselves talk and refuse to listen to what that reaction really was. Here we go again, they sighed. More angry little boys. Mass produced. Mass produced like our first official action figures. Press the levers on our back and we do Tomahawk chops. Don’t know why. Pre-order now and get … uh … you get a bucket of pancake batter.” “Oh fucking Christ I hate those things. We gotta get ‘em redone by somebody else. I have GIANT FUCKIN’ CANS for fuck’s sake. I mean, look at me. I’m a B cup. At BEST.” “Collectors. You heard her. Get the first and only Mike McGuire action figure with enhanced bust line.” “You know what kind of guys’d dig something like that? Fuckin’ Bulletproof. Jaxson, Talon, and Bodhi. Y’know what that sounds like? Sounds like about fifty billion guys I met before when I was in college. All the same. All chest thumping meatheads skirting by on their fucking athletic scholarships, spending more time looking up the phone numbers of roofie dealers than doing their goddamn homework. Bet they still play Limp Biscuit all the time, and from the looks of him, Bodhi’s the motherfucker who always eats the goddamn soggy cracker.” Mike’s fists were clenched tightly. She’d obviously hit some sort of nerve within herself. John’s hand hovered over his shoulder before he gently gave it a squeeze.She exhaled, giving a subtle but very grateful smile back at him before continuing. “But that’s on the surface. For all we know, they could be fucking tactical geniuses. We just don’t know, because they just kind of, kapow. Appeared outta goddamn nowhere. But I’ve had the dubious fuckin’ pleasure of talking to one of ‘em, and if he’s representative of the whole group? Yeah. I don’t care if they’re the greatest wrestlers that God’s green earth has ever seen since the primordial soup finished cooking. They’re fucking creeps.” “I’ve learned better about asking about some of things you say but I get the gist of it. That exchange told us everything to expect. They’re going to try to get into our heads, my friend. They’re going to take a cursory glance at our Wikipedia page and make the same baseless assumptions that every one of their ilk has before. We could ask them to be original but well, look at them. I don’t think they know what that word means.” “Yeah. So let me sum that up for you real quick. I’m a bisexual with tomboyish tendencies, and he spent time in prison. There, I saved you bozos a lot of time and breath. If you think that’s all there is about us worth talking about, congratulations. You’re stupider than you look.” John smiled just a little at that. “Don’t get us wrong. I think we both like talking about ourselves, too. Let’s talk reality. We’ll save both of these teams the need to go through a history lesson. As it stands, NSFW is the only team that has defeated the current tag team champions. We aren’t here to play underdog anymore. We aren’t here to shuffle our feet and wonder just how we got here. How many times have we told you all? This isn’t about redemption.” “This is about takin’ what’s ours.” “That’s right. Redemption implies that we did something that put us behind the 8-ball. I know now with every passing moment that NSFW will become the new definition of what a tag team should aspire to become.” “Hope. That you can come up from nothin’ and do anything if you put your bones in and love what you do. Which maybe sounds a little fuckin’ hokey when you say it like that, but it’s true. This is for anybody. Anybody willing to try, and sweat, and even bleed a little, with a will to make this business maybe a little fuckin’ better than you left it. We got that. And that’s why nobody’s gonna push us off the damn road. There’s No Sapping our Fucking Will.” Turning the video recorder off, Mike stuck their phone in their pocket and leaned back against the ropes, idly reaching out, scooping a low-hovering firefly into her palm. “That was great. You know… yeah. I don’t have a single doubt. We can do this. We can do this, and we can beat Pirate and Puss all over again.” John backed himself into the nearest corner. At this point, the awkward silences had become just another moment in good company to them, but he was certainly contemplating something, “I watched that match on the flight back. I was taking notes for us.” “You know, I keep forgetting we actually fuckin’ won at times. I owe you an apology, by the way. I was a real terrible bitch after all that. Never should’ve said I hated everybody. You were right. I don’t. I was just pissed, that’s all. I need to get a better fuckin’ handle on that shit.” “After the match...” Mike was about to comment but then fell silent as well. Suddenly, they knew exactly what part of ‘after the match’ he meant. Sighing, they gave a bit of a sheepish shrug, sent off the little glowing insect with a light flick of their hand, and began to explain themselves. “I…” “Thank you.” “Oh… heh. You don’t need to thank me for that. Shit, I just didn’t want you hurt, that’s all.” They looked down, their fingers twiddling with each other a bit, perhaps keeping themselves occupied. Still, they slid a little ways down the ropes, moving closer to their partner.“Besides, you woulda done the same for me.” John folded his arms across his chest and then nodded. Body language experts have concluded that someone folding their arms would be a defensive posture but with John all of that expert analysis needed to be set aside. “Of course. But I would hope that we wouldn’t need to put that into effect. There are so many things about this business that I don’t understand yet. What makes a man like Morgan Darkwater sink to the lows he has? I know he has pretty much answered that. Mike, am I wrong? His apologies fall on deaf ears. I don’t forgive him. That doesn’t sit well with me but neither then does writing off disassociating his will from his actions so easily.” “I mean, what? Fuckin’ seriously. Does Garcia have his fuckin’ wench tied up to railroad tracks all Snidely Whiplash like someplace? Cuz frankly I can’t think of any other viable fuckin’ excuse. And that’s a level of goddamn cartoon villainy I don’t think even Cherry would sink to. Or maybe he would. I dunno.” They shrugged, flicking their hair out of their eyes. “Anyway. We’ll worry about them later, when we take our titles from ‘em. For now, you got a title defense of your own t’ worry about. You wanna address the gals you’re fighting now, bang both things out in one night? Save some time.” “N-no.” John hesitated. “I think I need to do this by myself. But I don’t know how. Ever since you made it so easy for me to speak my mind, you’ve never left my side. I’m terrified. So much that I can’t quantify it.” “Hmm. That’s a dilemma, ain’t it.” Mike leaned back, looking upward, finger tapping against their chin the way it usually did when they were thinking hard about something. After a moment’s silence, their eyes lit up. “You know what? I think I got a solution for ya. There’s this dude who owes me a favor…”

[rohirric-hunter]

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