#a pinc louds summer

[plumbus-central]

What does Minnie think of the flesh Curtains? :0

In my minnie/rick canon minnie was IN the flesh curtains! She has a melodic/quickly shifting way of speaking that lends itself well to being a vocalist. And i think she probably played the guitar while rick played the bass, while also providing vocals alongside birdperson.

im not good at music analysis i only know the sounds that make me feel things lol. And i probably dont have as broad a range of music to like, pull from for reference? so honestly when i imagine the kind of music they'd make as a band with minnie included, i imagine it sounds a lot like some of the more fast work by Pinc Louds.

Specifically songs like Speak to Me Dead, which even includes squawking like bp might do lol. And Shaking, which features sort of howling/moaning noises, a common characteristic of music from minnie's home dimension from before she met rick!

Wiith minnie in the band (and acting as a songwriting participant) i think they'd come up with music with a more ethereal feel and a more personal basis. While in the comic's flesh curtains issue we see that rick is uh, bad at writing songs that people like, I think minnie might be able to pull from a more personal/collaborative place with the band and her band mates to make the music more palatable. Both to the audience and themselves.

[fourmoony]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter Three.

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: language, abandonment, falling, mentions of broken bone and reconstructive metal work, cheating.

ITN Masterlist

You –

The ice is smooth, freshly pressed by the Zamboni. You should be nervous. Usually, you’d be nervous. But you’re tired. Exhausted, actually. If Pince knew how much you want to turn boot and skate off the other side of the ice, she’d probably have an aneurism. This is it: your chance to become a National Champion. The gateway to worlds, to the Olympics. And all you can think about is the gaping hole in your chest, the knot your stomach has wound its way into. The sound of James’ truck door slamming an echo in the back of your head.

The crowd is silent, and your programme music starts. Four minutes. You only need to make it four minutes. Four minutes until you can walk away and spend the summer wallowing. Four minutes that hang over you like a heavy weight.

You know this routine like the back of your hand. You’ve practiced it so much you could do it in your sleep. Spins, jumps, twists. Every one of them brings a different memory. James picking you up off of your ass, frustrated and angry, sending you back to try again with encouraging words and an even more encouraging kiss. He’d cheer when you landed and buy you chocolate cake on the way home.

The music is loud and overwhelming. It grates on your skin. Images of James, of your happiest moments, of everything you lost – they spin and jump along with you. Heavy as the rain that soaked you on the twenty-minute walk back to your apartment that night. It hurts too much, burns too hot.

Pince likes to say that careers can end in a split second. You know well that they can. All it takes is a bad jump, a distraction. You’ve seen it happen. Countless young athletes losing their careers over one bad move. One fracture, one broken bone, one chip on the ice. One second and it’s all gone.

One second and you’re on the ice.

One second and the resounding crack of bone slices through the crowd.

One second and the lights have gone up.

One second and your entire life leading up to this moment flashes before your eyes.

One second and the world stops.

One second before the shattered sob leaves your throat and it all goes black.

Your ankle clicks and crunches when you roll it. It’s uncomfortable, but not sore – and as much as you hate to admit it, Pomfrey is right; that’s progress. Your toe touches the ground, your calf burns, your ankle hits a breaking point. With a wince, you straighten it, repeat the motion. The stretch room off the back of the rink is empty this early in the morning. The hockey team doesn’t come in for practice for another two hours, the ice is fresh, and as soon as the feeling comes back to the ball of your ankle, you’re going to make use of the free time.

With a breath, you pull your leg up, run the edge of your nail along the skin of your scar. There’s no feeling against the skin, there. It comes and goes, the numbness. Your doctor’s say it’s a side effect of the surgery, the damage to the nerve endings, the pins, the screws. Your finger trails a pattern up your leg, back down, over the ragged ridges of the marred skin. It’s starting to feel normal, the ways you need to live your life. Stretches every day, physical rehabilitation, being barely able to wear heels, mobility, and flexibility issues. Lily likes to joke that you’re a walking-talking-live version of the Met Office. The change in weather is, admittedly, easier to assume with the metal work in your ankle.

It’s been hard – rehabilitating. It’s been sore and scary, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. Remus talks, often, about the limitations that his condition puts on his career. It’s nice, in a twisted sort of way, to have someone who knows your pain. In comparison, your pain is a nick on Remus’ radar. His pain is chronic, his bones brittle and damaged. His career will be short lived – but, you know without a doubt that his time in the NHL will be legendary, regardless.

The feeling comes back slowly, to the slow rhythm of your finger tracing up and down. You stand, after a while, and reach for your skate bag. You don’t bother with shoes, socked feet padding against the rubber flooring all the way down to the team box. To your surprise, the ice is populated when you get to the plastic door into the benched area. Sirius and Remus are skating laps around the ice, passing a puck back and forth. They don’t have their kit on, just joggers and their team sweatshirts. James is in the same attire, socked feet kicked up on the bottle shelf beneath the boards. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, hood over his hair. Stray, dark strands of chocolate brown curling out the sides. He looks tired. Exhausted, even.

His eyes follow Remus and Sirius around the rink, ever the dutiful, attentive captain. You know there’s millions of play ideas running through his head, critiques on players that aren’t even in James’ eyesight. It’s astounding, though you hate to admit it, how good of a leader James is.

“You’re all here early.” You say, setting your skate bag beside James on the metal bench.

Your ex startles, eyes wide behind his glasses when he looks over. It’s odd, to think over the Summer he’s somehow forgotten to remember your schedule. He used to know it off by heart. You skate every Saturday morning before the hockey team starts their practice. Realisation crosses his features, like the ghost of a past life passing through his eyes. “Shit, I’ll pull them off. Sorry.” James apologises, pulling his feet from the shelf and sitting forward like he’s getting ready to call Sirius and Remus in.

“No, it’s fine. I’m cool as long as they are.” You take a seat, unzipping your skate bag.

James nods, swallows. The silence is thick, almost suffocating. There’s no flirty conversation, no teasing, no kind words of encouragement. Things have changed. As much as James promised they wouldn’t – they have. It has a lot to do with how things ended, you suppose. As long as you were together, you’d always thought it’d be your careers, the distance, that split you up. Your ex-boyfriend places his feet on the rubber mats below the bench, bounces his legs. “They’ll stay out of your way, just watch out for stray pucks.”

“Got it. You okay?” You ask as you sit down to tie your skates. “You look exhausted.”

James’ hazel eyes follow Sirius and Remus around the rink. You don’t think they’ve noticed your presence, yet. Content in their own world. “Yeah. All good.”

It’s a lie. You both know it. But you’re not the person James is going to talk to about that, anymore. You don’t have a response for him, so you take your skate guards off and leave him to stew in the box. The air is cold against your face, a pleasant feeling. Sirius and Remus have scratched the ice a little with their skates and sticks, but it’ll be fine. They hear your blades scratching the closer you get, turn to you as you approach.

“Hey, I just want to run my routine a couple times before tomorrow. I’ll try stay out of your way.” You tell them.

Sirius’ eyes flick to James almost protectively, like he’s checking his captain, his best friend, is aware of your presence. Since you and James broke up, you haven’t heard much from Sirius. It’s not that he’s picking sides – though, you wouldn’t blame him for picking James. What they have is unique. They’re bonded. But it hurts a little. Stings, because there was a time where Sirius was one of your best friends. You’d all been close. It feels now, like Lily and Remus are the only ones who make an effort.

“You have practice tonight, your ankle going to be okay?” Remus asks, pushing the puck back and forth absentmindedly.

“How’s your knee?” You deflect.

Remus bites back a grin and scoffs good naturedly, but Sirius’ eyes fly down to Remus’ knee as though he’ll be able to see through layers of clothes and skin, right down to the muscle. He looks almost panicked. Then, he looks back up, icy blues lit with a fire you’ve never been on the receiving end of. “He’s fine.”

“Relax, Sirius. I know he is.” Your eyes burn, a little, “I’ll try stay out of your way.”

Remus mutters something to Sirius – likely chastising him. You’re on the other side of the rink, pretending not to care, so you don’t hear it.

They stay out of your way for the majority of your ice time. Only one stray puck gets in your way, and James calls out in a panic when you almost land on it. Instead, you miss a jump and shout a shaky thanks as you clamber back to your feet on the ice. He stays firmly in the box – making you wonder why he even bothered to come to the ice this morning, at all. Not that it’s any of your business. Remus and Sirius run drills on one half of the ice whilst you weave in and around them. It’s not until you’re on your last run through that your foot goes numb. It’s quick, instant. You land on your ankle, there’s no feeling there, your leg buckles.

You hit the ice with a nasty amount of noise. Skates scraping and clashing, a whoosh of pained air. Your hip hurts, a searing pain that you already know will need to be iced. It takes a minute to gather your surroundings, turning until you’re sitting up. “Jesus,” You mutter, angry. It feels like this will never end – the numbness, the frustration, falling. It’s been months of your ankle going numb mid practice. Months of falling on your ass. “Fuck!”

Remus is at your side in an instant, Sirius close behind him. “Okay, up. Up, C’mon.”

You know you can’t get up, but you refuse to admit why. No one knows. Not even Pomfrey, not even Pince. You can’t run the risk of needing a surgery to fix the nerve endings. Can’t risk having to sit this season out. “Remus, give me a minute.”

“No, the longer you sit there, the less likely you’re going to go again. Up. Now.” Your best friend holds his hand out.

He’s just trying to help. But there’s anger simmering in your chest. Hot and raw and you want to lash out. For the first time, you think you understand why Remus is the way he is. So, you look at him, really, truly look at him and you think he understands. James crouches in front of you, eyes brimming with concern. You hate how much relief the sight of him brings you. Remus turns and drags Sirius off. They go back to their own corner of the ice. Your eyes well with tears.

“What’s goin’ on?” James asks.

His hands rest on the skate covering your bad ankle. You can’t feel them. The thought panics you because what if? What if one day, the feeling never comes back and it’s too late? James notices the fear in your eyes, his finger reaches up to press into your calf and you flinch. A look of understanding passes across his features, brows scrunching and dipping in the middle. “No one knows?”

“No one can know.”

James looks like he disagrees, but he nods. “I’ll bare your weight to get you up. Feet flat or Remus will notice, but weight bare on your good ankle.”

He doesn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t care. It’s not his role, anymore. But you nod, regardless. Even if the idea of him helping you lights a furious rage inside of you because how dare he act like he gives a shit now? You need to get off the ice, though. So you give him both of your hands, left blade flat on the ice as he pulls you up. Your hip screams at you, but you ignore it in favour of James’ socked feet. He’s run out onto the ice without shoes on.

“You’re going to get frost-bite.” You murmur, eyes flicking up to find his already on you.

He looks sad. Nostalgic, maybe. “Worth it.”

Your heart cracks open in your chest as you let James lead you off of the ice, all the while praying he doesn’t go full James and snitch on you to Pince, thinking he’s doing you some sort of favour. You have it under control. You’re dealing with it.

Maybe just not as well as you’d originally thought.

Regulus –

Barty is lying, rather annoyingly, half on Regulus’ legs and half on the bed. But he won’t ask Barty to move. As much as a distraction he’s made himself, Regulus finds he quite enjoys the idea that Barty wants to be this close to him. The sketch book on his lap stares up at him tauntingly. There’s half-finished scribbles of planets and stars; none of which Regulus has the energy to perfect. He does, however, have a strong notion to draw the way Barty’s body is curling around his legs. Regulus isn’t sure how to feel about that, so he ignores it; because if he thinks too much about it, he’ll start to push Barty away.

He’s aware that this isn’t going to last. Just like he’s aware that after his thesis paper is published, he’ll be returning to Grimmauld Place. Taking over Black Industries is probably at the bottom of the list of things Regulus wants to do with his life. But the thing about Barty Crouch is that he’s persuasive. He’s irresistible, as Regulus has come to realise. It’s more than just his regal looking cheek bones and sinful smile, his toned body, and tattoos that make Regulus more inspired to draw than he ever has; if only to one day see one of his drawings on Barty’s pale skin – it’s also his carefree attitude, his rebellious nature, and the big, bold, ‘fuck you’ middle finger he holds up to the world that makes Regulus want to get wrapped up in him and never get free.

He wishes he could keep Barty, but he can’t. So, he won’t draw him. For now, he’ll enjoy his rebellious streak brought about by the sarcastic, smart mouth, piece of shit guy he met in the art supply store in the spring and worry about the calendar counting down his return to Grimmauld place later.

Admitting defeat, Regulus places his sketchbook and pencil on his bedside table. Barty stirs at the movement, head straining to look at Regulus with a devious grin. He threads his fingers through the soft strands of Barty’s inky black hair and smiles softly. It’s obvious his smile isn’t believable, because Barty huffs, pushes himself up until he’s straddling Regulus’ hips. He’s not in the mood for whatever Barty is about to initiate, but Barty seems to notice that because his eyes soften. “What’s on your mind?”

Regulus studies Barty. He really is very beautiful. He’d be easy to draw. The itch is there. But he can’t. So, he won’t. “I was thinking that I can’t focus when you’re lounging over me like a stray cat.” It’s obvious in his voice that it’s a lie. But the good thing about Barty is that he doesn’t push Regulus to talk when he clearly doesn’t want to.

“We both know that you’re the cat, in this relationship, Regulus. You’re all claws and uptight attitude.” The boy on top of Regulus quips, a smile that tells Regulus he’s rather pleased with himself.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not all claws.” Because Regulus knows he’s uptight.

Barty grins. It’s charming and knowing, practically dripping with sin. He reaches for the neckline of his t-shirt; acts like he’s going to pull it upward. “Should we look at my back?”

Regulus holds the hem around Barty’s waist and tugs, scowling. “No, let’s not.”

Barty laughs, collapsing on top of Regulus. He enjoys the weight, presses his fingers into his shoulder blades because he knows he likes rough touches. Gentle touches make him jumpy. He listens to Barty laugh for a while, enjoys the sound of it vibrating against the skin of his neck. He stares at the ceiling and wonders if he should tell Barty that one of the reasons he’s struggling to draw is probably because his estranged brother has cropped his ugly head up.

Barty is good with advice. Mainly because the majority of his advice is to get high and ignore all of your problems. His mother would pitch a fit if she knew all the shit Regulus was getting up to, these days. She calls once a week, always short and curt. It’s more of a call to make sure Regulus is behaving, than to check in on how he’s actually doing. He’s not sure what he’s going to tell her when she asks who his student assistant ended up being. If she knew, she’d likely pull him out of university all together and ban him from leaving the house ever again. Not that he had any choice in who it was.

“Sirius is my student assistant.” He breathes out, the admittance bringing a hollow ache to his chest.

He doesn’t talk much about Sirius. Mainly because it hurts, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that as much as he tried, nothing was ever good enough for his older brother. Not enough to make him stay. And Regulus knows that expecting Sirius to stay was unfair – maybe it’s more to do with the idea that he left him there. Scared, alone. Baring the crown that Sirius found too heavy. Barty lifts his head until his eyes meet Regulus’. Reading, trying to gage how he should treat this. He’s not sure if he wants Barty to get him high and help him say fuck you to his problems, or if he wants him to offer to kick the shit out of Sirius.

“Okay. Go on.” Barty urges, fingers tracing Regulus’ collar bones.

The feeling grounds him as he huffs and closes his eyes. Thinking. Trying to sort through his emotions because, really, he’s not sure how he feels about it.

“He said I’m just like our father. I was a dick to him.”

Barty smiles sadly. “You were surprised to see him.”

“I knew I’d see him, eventually. I mean, I’ve done a good job of avoiding him. But I thought, maybe naively, when I came to Hogwarts that maybe there’d be a chance he’d want to explain. But he didn’t. He just looked at me with pure hatred and stormed off into the stacks.” It sounds childish, the way Regulus’ voice takes on a petulant whine.

But Barty nods, like he understands. He doesn’t. He doesn’t have siblings, but he does have an uncomfortable family situation. So, he’s sympathetic, at least. “Maybe he’s scared to apologise because he thinks you won’t hear him.” Barty offers.

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s just an asshole.”

The other boy scoffs amusedly, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You think he’d want me to be a part of his life? If I could forgive him.” Regulus asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

Barty presses his lips to Regulus’. It’s soft, caring. Rare, for them. “I dunno Sirius. I’ve never met him. But I do know that anyone who doesn’t want a part of you in their life is a fucking idiot. And you don’t need another idiot in your life. You already have me.”

He likes that answer, so he kisses Barty until they’re both a mess of tangled limbs and swollen lips. Until it turns out that there’s other ways to forget his problems. And all of them suddenly have a lot to do with Barty Crouch.

James –

He’s pacing. He knows he’s pacing, and he knows that his footsteps are clunking against the wooden floorboards, and that Remus will likely lose his mind if he continues. But James can’t stop. It’s how he thinks, how he processes. Years of thinking on his feet, of having to have a mind as sharp as a tack, having to move whilst processing a hundred different outcomes. The only outcome he can think of right now is you hating him even more than you already do when he inevitably goes to Pince and tells her that your ankle isn’t properly healed.

He did the necessary reading to conclude that prolonged numbness is definitely not a normal side effect of having a reconstructive surgery. A temporary side effect, yes. But it’s been months since your surgery. That’s not a good sign, according to a very reliable source (if you count Reddit as a reliable source; James isn’t sure if he does). And he knows he’s catastrophising. He’s prone to it. But he’s worried. And wouldn’t he rather you hate him that little bit more and eventually be able to get back on the ice next year (after another surgery, Reddit had confirmed) than risk it all now and never skate again? James doesn’t feel qualified to make that decision. He hasn’t been a captain long, and even then, it’s not like he’s in charge of people’s livelihoods. He wouldn’t have taken the job if that was the case.

James knows how much Nationals means for you – it’s the gateway to the World Championships, to the Olympics. He cost you that last year, and he hates himself for it. Is he really willing to do that to you again? He’s not sure. So, he paces. He loses count of how many times he picks up his phone and almost hits the green call button next to your name. He’s not even sure you’d answer, even less sure of what he’d say to you if, by some miracle, you answered. ‘I think you should miss out on Nationals again, this year, have another risky surgery and hope for the best. Okay, bye!’ doesn’t exactly seem like a good plan to him.

Remus is the embodiment of exhaustion when he pushes James’ bedroom door open and leans against the frame like a parent ready to chastise their hyper-active child. James cringes. Remus needs all the rest he can get. Between hospital appointments, hockey, and his classes, he never stops. “Sorry. I’ll try be quieter.” His voice comes out rushed and anxious, an alarm bell sounding off to alert Remus of his worry.

The taller boy tilts his head and studies James. Sometimes, he loves how perceptive Remus can be. It helps offence, and it generally means that he’s a better friend. But now, he shifts awkwardly because for the second time in the space of a year, he’s keeping a secret from his best friend. He hates lying to Remus. But your words play on a loop in his head. No one can know. You’d been so scared. Terrified, even, at the idea of everything you’ve worked for over the summer being ripped away from you. Call James selfish, but he doesn’t particularly want to be the one to do it. Even though he knows he should because it will be better in the long run.

“Or” Remus suggests, “You could stop pacing and tell me what’s going on with Y/N.”

James opens his mouth. Subsequently closes it because he doesn’t know what to say. He won’t betray your trust. He hates lying to Remus. But he knows, ultimately, if he really doesn’t want to talk about it, his best friend won’t push him.

He feels himself shrug, his best attempt at feigning nonchalance. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Remus’ honey eyes read like a book. He knows James is lying, scrutinising him whilst simultaneously trying to figure out why he’s lying for you. As far as Remus knows he’s on bad terms with you. And technically, that’s true. But James would give anything to fix that. He just hasn’t figured out how, yet.

“You know,” Remus pushes off the door frame, ever the one for imparting wisdom in the most dramatic of ways and pushes his hands into his pockets. “If I didn’t know well enough, I’d say you’re trying to decide her future for her. I can tell you right now, that won’t end well. Whatever it is she’s hiding, I’ve been there. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but one she has to do on her own.

“Don’t make her hate you any more than she does now, James. I’m still rooting for you.”

“You know?” James asks, throat dry.

“About the numbness or you cheating on her?” Remus asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he leaves James standing, alone, in the middle of his room with a sinking feeling that he’s let everyone down.

He’s not sure how Remus knows. Maybe you told him even though you’d told James you weren’t going to tell anyone.

An amicable breakup, you’d suggested. It’ll save us both the embarrassment.

He hates himself. Hates himself for all of the things he wishes he’d sat you down and forced you to listen to over the summer. Hates that he didn’t fight for you more. There’s so much you don’t know. So much you don’t want to hear. So much James wishes he’d done differently. Starting with how he wishes he’d run out onto the ice, consequences be damned, the minute he saw you land on your ankle, the minute he heard you sobbing in pain. He wishes he hadn’t walked away, feeling sorry for himself that he’d ripped Nationals from you. That, despite how hard he’d tried, he’d still failed you.

And he hates even more that he even considered doing it for a second time.

James sits on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, and he decides there and then that he’s not going to tell Pince. But he is, even if you fight him every step of the way, going to find a way to fix this for you. You’ll have a chance at Nationals if it’s the last thing James does.

And it starts with a call to Euphemia Potter.

[sweetpandorabox]

Doodles - Ron Weasley x Female Reader (One Shot)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨sweetpandorabox୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…⋙

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend Ron are studying for the upcoming O.W.L.S in the library together, as you try and focus on your studies your redhead boyfriend seems to feel boredom run through his mind and body during studying, as he tried hard to gain your attention yet failing to do so, he masters up an idea that managed to get you to fun with him.

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Female Reader

Story Setting: This fanfiction is set in your 5th year of Hogwarts during the Order of the Phoenix.

Warnings⚠️: None this one is pure fluff.

A/N: Hey sexy it's Angel here, this week I've decided to write a super short one-shot for all of you, I'll be sure to make one of these for at least all of the Harry Potter boys and girls because it's super easy, and don't require a lot of time, anwyas enjoy love you. xx

Word Count : 936

✯¸.•´¨*•✿ Doodles ✿•*¨`•.¸✯

The hot summer air, blazes the library as students swarm the wondrous place to study their day away for the upcoming O.W.L.S, the library was at its busiest in June pushing Madame Pince the librarian more towards the edge as she carefully inspects the library for any sort of book damage, students shenanigans or overly loud group of people that need to be escorted out, she was an irritable woman in nature but in this time of year, he patience grew forevermore thin, which students have taken an aware off as they try to avoid things that raise anger out of her. You and your boyfriend Ron have been together for a year, confessing your feelings for each other during the quidditch world cup last year in your 4th year before the shambles of the dark lord hits the place, but after that, your relationship with Ron was as stronger than ever.

"Which Minister renovated and reinforced the prison of Azkaban and what was his term of office?" you questioned the bored-looking red-headed boy, "Hmmm is it, Albert Boot? he was in office from 1745 until 1752," he answered slightly hesitant giving you a quizzical look, "Not quite, it's Hesphaestus Gore and he was in office from 1752 until 1770...Albert was known for his resignment after the mismanaged goblin rebellion" you inform as Ron huffs in frustration slumping on the library table, you ruffle his short yet fluffy locks giving him a sympathetic smile, "It's okay love, maybe you'll get the next one" you encouraged him, he takes the hand you've ruffled his hair with and bring it down towards his lips planting a kiss on your knuckle sighing, "Babe we've been studying for 2 hours, I think I just need a break at this point and who honestly cares about the history of magic, even Harry doesn't know what he's doing" he stated still holding your hand close to his face.

"Ronald history of magic is just as important as our other subjects here taught in Hogwarts, everyone needs to know what happened in the past to stay aware and it can come as useful information when you become an Auror one day" you explained to him with an alluring smile displayed on your face focusing on your 'A History of Magic' book reading paragraphs that's been written in page 38 to 39, Ron blushes at the sight of your beauty kissing the right side of your cheek, "You always know what to say, don't you? fine... I'll study harder but let's take a break now come one" he usher, leaning himself towards your chair trying to gain your attention, "Ronald we're meeting up with Harry and Hermione in 20 minutes we can take a break then, just push through for now" you quietly reply to him keeping your eyes glued on the book, he sighs and slumping back on his chair eyeing his quill standing still on the ink pot, his slump face breaks into a massive grin as the light bulb in his head turned on.

He takes your free hand pretending to kiss it while you smile, focusing on the materials you're meant to study for the exam in 4 days' time, he carefully dips the bird quill into the ink pot before doodling a love heart on the back of your hand, he watches your face only to be matched with you focusing even harder on your studies, which led him to a breathy chuckle, before continuing to draw more things in your hand and arm, he started to write 'Ron's Property" on to your right arm that's been left exposed due to your rolled sleeve and he made another doodle of flowers around your arm going in as if you were a piece of blank paper. You noticed Ron has been quiet for a while, which leads you to peer over your book finding him doodling on your arm, your eyes popped out of your head from all the ink on your skin, and set your book down on the table, "Ronald!! what are you doing?" you ask quietly yet fiercely taking your arm back, he giggles "What? I'm being quiet... and look at all the drawings I did", you shake your head with a smile before dipping your own quill into the ink pot aiming for his right cheek writing 'Y/N boyfriend', "Hey!" Ron grunts touching his marked cheek as you laugh softly "Oh you're on pretty girl" he stated before aiming for your face as well, by the end of your doodling war you and Ron had ink marks all over your faces and arms.

Madam Pince made her way over to your tables to check up on the whole of the library, "Oh what a mess! both of you out and clean yourselves for goodness sake, and don't you dare spill any of that ink on the table or the books, out out out!" She ushers the both of you before turning away, you and Ron shared a smile towards each other before leaning in for a quick kiss, "How about we met up with Harry and Hermione at dinner instead, let me help my girlfriend clean up a bit, how about a bath?" he asks with a cheeky wink your smile grew bigger and bigger with a hint of pink appearing on your face as you nodded at Ron's proposal, in no time the two of you quickly pack your things in the library and walk hand in hand towards the prefect's bathroom on the 5th floor for a privet bath.

[iwritefanficsnottragedies]

Fred Weasley

Request: None

Prompt: "My mum asked about you again"

***

Forgotten in a corner of the library, their books and parchments scattered all over the table, 4 students were restlessly doing their homework.

"Can't this be done already?" one of them broke the silence, so sudden it startled the others. "Bloody hell, it's been over 3 hours!"

"We're almost done, Ron, no need to get so loud," Hermione scoffed, "besides, you barely did anything."

"I assume Hermione and I could finish it in the morning. It's getting quite late and Madam Pince isn't looking quite fondly at us," (Y/N) sighed, feeling her eyelids heavy.

A yawn from Ron made Hermione groan. "I doubt we'd get much done tonight anyway, let's just go then."

Not long after, the 4 of them found themselves on the nearly empty halls of Hogwarts, on their way to the Gryffindor common room. They walked in silence, the tiredness from a full day finally getting the best of all of them. That is, until Ron broke the silence once more.

"(Y/N)," he said, making the (H/C) girl turn her head, "are you sure you don't want to come over for Christmas?"

"No, Ron, it's alright. I don't wanna be a bother," (Y/N) smiled kindly at the ginger.

"Nonsense! You know mum loves to have you over and i wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you there."

"Plus me and Ginny could use some more girl company around, we need all the help to stop these two from getting in trouble," Hermione added. She playfully pushed (Y/N)'s shoulder, making them both chuckle for a bit, time in which Harry finally broke his silence.

"And I'm sure theres someone else who'd love to have you there," he muttered in a whisper soft enough that only Ron heard him over the laughter of the girls. He elbowed Harry, shooting him a warning glance. The brunet shrugged, but kept silent all the same.

"See?" the youngest Weasley boy started, "you have to come. My mum's gonna kill us if we destroy something again. And i do mean anything."

"I'll... I'll think about it," (Y/N) offered shyly. As much as she wanted to go, she felt like she would intrude. But there was something really pushing her to go. Or rather someone...

After a while, the girls were settled in their beds, ready to sleep, or at least (Y/N) was. Hermione seemed to be in the mood for a bit of an interrogation.

"So what's the real reason you don't wanna come?" the young witch asked.

(Y/N) laid quiet for a moment, unsure of the answer herself. She reflected silently. Her parents were more than willing to let her spend Christmas at the Burrow, her closest friends would be there. So why was she refusing really? She didn't have a reason other than the feeling that a certain brother of Ron's, Fred, to be more specific, didn't want her around.

It all started during her visit the previous summer. The holiday was coming to an end and Harry had just arrived at The Burrow. The younger Weasleys, Hermione and (Y/N) spent most of their time together till that point, but when Harry arrived, his 3 best friends spent the rest of the evening with him. Catching up, making jokes and whatnot. Night fell quickly and while the other 3 weren't as tired, (Y/N) managed to fall asleep, right on Harry. They didn't have the heart to bother her until Fred woke up, coming downstairs.

"I should take her upstairs" the twin said, making the others turn to him.

"No, it's ok. I don't mind it," Harry smiled, his arm resting around (Y/N).

"Nonsense," Fred scowled, not leaving Harry any room for protest, before scooping (Y/N)'s sleeping figure off the bed and carrying her to Ginny's room.

The next day, (Y/N) woke up surprised to find herself in bed and even more surprised to find out Fred was the one who brought her there. She went to thank him, finding him eating breakfast, but he barely acknowledged her.

"No worries," he nodded, not even glancing up from his plate.

And from then on, what was quite a beautiful friendship turned into distance between the 2. (Y/N) never understood, Fred never gave her time to ask.

The (H/C) girl was brought back from memory lane by Hermione's words.

"Will you answer before I die of old age please?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Hermione. I don't have an actual reason."

But Hermione knew better than that. It was with good reason she was comsidered the brightest witch of her age.

"I'm sure Fred wouldn't mind if you'd come. And even if he does, the rest of us want you to come. So please, change your mind. Please? For me at least?" The brown haired girl begged.

(Y/N) smiled. She knew her best friend would put her thoughts into words better than herself. But she still felt bad. After all, she didn't even know what she did.

"I don't know, Hermione, I don't wanna make empty promises."

The room fell into silence soon after, both girls too tired to go on.

The next day came and went faster than expected, and soon dinner was served. With Hermione's words from the previous mind still on her mind, (Y/N) realised she haven't seen Fred the entire day. She scanned The Great Hall for him, but there was still no sign of the redhead.

"Where could he be?" she wondered, seeing his twin a few chairs away, seemingly not missing his brother.

Her question got answered shortly afterwards though, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"May I speak with you?" Fred asked.

(Y/N) nodded and hurried to follow Fred, who was already halfway out the door. She followed him to their common room, not making a sound.

Fred sat down on a couch, motioning for (Y/N) to sit next to him.

"My mum asked about you again," he said. "She wants to know why you arent coming over for Christmas."

"Oh, it's just... you already have guests and there would be so many people, i don't wanna be a b-"

"I talked to Hermione," he intervened,"She told me why you don't want to come."

(Y/N) blushed, that meant he knew he's the sole reason. And the sad tone in his voice only made the girl feel worse.

"I don't wanna be there if it troubles you in any way."

"It doesn't, (Y/N), and I'm sorry if that's the impression I gave you." For the first time in months, Fred turned his head to look (Y/N) in her eyes. "I promise you, that's not it, I'd love it if you'd come."

"Looks like quite the opposite to me," (Y/N) frowned.

Fred let out a puff of air as he looked down at his hands. He knew well how he's been acting with (Y/N) these past few months. Though he wouldn't admit it, he was ready to flee even then from the room, go away, as far away as possible from the younger girl. Poor (Y/N) had no idea how hard it has been for Fred. Keeping himself away from someone he actually cares about was just as hurtful for him as it was for her. But he couldn't let himself fall into unrequited feelings. He remembered when things started to change.

It was the end of July and they were all home at the Burrow, when someone knocked on their door. He opened it to reveal a sun-kissed (Y/N), with a big smile on her face, a smile that gave him butterflies. Her eyes shinning bright, her rosy cheeks, everything about her, it changed everything for him. The child- his little brother's best friend- had disappeared and instead there stood (Y/N) in a whole new light, transformed into a guilty dream, an innocent desire for romance, all with one look. She hugged him and for a moment he wasn't at the Burrow anymore. He was in his own mind-made world, just for the two of them. The moment lingered for a just a bit, not nearly enough, and he was abruptly brought to reality by Ginny's excited screams, by the loss of (Y/N)'s arms around him as she hurried to Ginny.

Fred wanted more moments like these. He spent his summer longing for them, doing everything in his power to get them. Day by day, he grew more fond of (Y/N), day by day he observed her, gazed at her like she was a piece of art, never to be touched.

One evening, after the house had quieted down, Fred and his mum cleaned up after dinner in amiable silence for a while until she broke the silence. "Young love," she said, looking up at him, "it is the sweetest of all."

"Hmm?" Fred turned to face his mother.

"I know my children, Fred, and I watch over them. A mother's eyes see things others can't."

Fred continued to look at Molly, unsure of what she was talking about.

"Go talk to her, Fred, you can't just watch her like she's gonna fall into your arms." His mother laughed, but her son was far from laughter.

He froze as realisation dawned upon him. That was it. Infatuation. He had fallen for (Y/N) and he'd fallen hard. And oh, how his dreams shattered now, as it all turned to reality. His little dream was now this cruel world and he couldn't bring it here.

His thoughts wandered for some time before he heard Molly's voice, loud enough to bring the whole house downstairs.

"Harry, dear!"

It was a few hours later and Fred couldn't sleep. (Y/N) wouldn't leave his mind, but not in the same fairytale way it did before. Concerns about what he could do, what she would do if she knew- all of these imagined scenes kept him restless and wide awake.

Maybe a glass of water would help, he thought and so he made his way downstairs. And what he saw made his stomach hurt just enough to be a bother. He knew Harry and (Y/N) better than to think anything of it, but someone touching her, being so close to her, someone who isn't him, pained him.

"Bloody jealousy."

"Jealousy? Who are you jealous of?" (Y/N) asked in confusion, bringing Fred out of his thoughts. Fred swallowed dryly, realising he'd said that out loud. He didn't know if now was the right time to share his feelings or not.

Luckily for him, a commotion could be heard very close by and soon the door to the common room swung open.

"Fred!" He heard his twin brother yelling his name, giving him a chance to swallow his feelings just a little longer.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), i gotta go. But please reconsider coming over for Christmas. I'd love it if you would join us."

And with that he exited the room, leaving (Y/N) as confused as ever and he, conflicted and at odds with himself. But it could wait. He had waited until then, what's a few more days, weeks, months. Perhaps it would pass...

________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you'd like a part 2.

Requests are open, just send me what character you want and a prompt as long or short as you'd like!

D.

[givemeweasley]

Already Gone

George Weasley X Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: this is inspired by the Already Gone cover by Sleeping At Last so angst (it's been a hard month), but also happy endings so no worries.

Masterlist

-----

Sometimes love was hard. It was a lesson you had to learn the older you got- the deeper you loved. It’s not that you would take a moment of that love back, but it definitely didn’t make it easier when you had to make hard choices for the people you loved.

And you were head over heels in love with George Weasley.

You fell for him slowly. Over time your best friend became something more to you. And you to him. Until the two of you became a couple in fifth year. And for two years you were the happiest you’d ever been, even with the death seemingly always knocking. You were just filled with memories of George's soft half smiles reserved for private moments, exuberant laughs that filled any room he was in, elaborate pranks that somehow you always managed to escape, and a fullness of love you had never felt before.

And now that fullness felt heavy.

It began to feel like weight the moment you walked up to Fred and Georges room at the Burrow the summer before seventh year. You thought George had been there, but he wasn’t. Instead you found plans for a shop. Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. Their inventions were listed out, priced, packaged, plans were drawn up for the outlay. Everything was seemingly planned.

At first you thought little of it, George was your person. You’d be beside him no matter what he wanted to do.

Until seventh year started.

And Umbridge came with it.

And you saw George begin to pull away.

Not from you, but from Hogwarts. You could see in his eyes he was done with Umbridge. Especially after he saw the scars on your hands one day after detention with her.

So it was no surprise when you heard him and Fred talking about leaving. You were coming down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room late at night when you heard them talking. You leaned against the wall of the staircase, out of sight while you eavesdropped.

“It’s time.” Fred spoke loud enough for you to hear.

You heard George sigh. You could practically see him run his hands through his messy hair. “Fred-”

“I know you’re worried about her, but she’ll be okay. She’s stronger than you think.”

“I know she’s strong, I just- I’m worried anyway. I don’t- I can’t leave her, Freddie.”

Your heart clenched. The pain in his voice was so- so raw.

You heard what sounded like Fred putting his arm around his brother. “I know. But this is our dream, George. She’d understand. You know she would.”

A long silence followed Fred’s statement. Your heart pounded in your chest. Silent tears slipped down your cheeks.

And then at last, he spoke. “I know.”

“You have to tell her, Georgie.”

“I know.”

A pat sounded before a sigh followed it. “So next Thursday?”

“Yeah.”

You waited until you heard their footsteps go up the boys staircase before sliding down the wall. Your head fell onto your knees as sobs began to wrack through your body. Your arms crossed over your knees in an attempt to muffle your cries. The last thing you needed was for Fred and George to hear you, although you were sure they were already dead asleep.

A piece of your heart bled as recalled George’s words. He couldn’t leave you. You’d known the handsome red head since first year. You knew how deep his love ran. How loyal he was to those he cared about. Leaving you? It would hurt him.

And that was something you couldn’t allow.

You would go to the ends of the world for him. You would do anything if it meant he would be happy.

Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness.

So as the tears stopped, you steeled yourself for what you had to do. Stood up. And went to bed with an already broken heart.

------

The feeling of dread had a new taste that morning. Every step felt too heavy to take. Every breath felt nearly impossible. But you swallowed it all as you walked towards the library table George and Fred were sitting at with Angelina and Lee.

George looked up, a bright smile on his face. The smile he reserved for just you. It almost crippled you.

But it was the quiet pain you saw in his eyes that solidified your resolve.

“Hey, love.” George reached out for you. You let him, unable to deny yourself his touch. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and began to pull you onto his lap, when you lifted your free hand to his chest stopping him. It then traveled up to tuck a piece of loose hair behind his ear.

“Hey, Georgie.” You swallowed. “Do you mind if I steal you away for a minute or two?”

Freds laugh rang out across the table as a balled up piece of paper flew across the table and smacked George in the face. “A minute or two?” Fred looked to Lee. “I always knew he was a quick shooter!”

Lee and Angelinas laugh soon joined in as George’s face reddened. Yet he stood up and wrapped an arm around you to lead you out of the library. But not before he called back. “At least I’ve never had any complaints!”

Madam Pince hushed him at the same time as Fred started to shout back, but by that time George had led you past the library doors and down the hall.

You allowed yourself to lean into George’s hold. To feel the warmth and smell the scent that was so completely him. The muscles in his arm that were hidden underneath his robes. The curl of his fingers on your hip.

You let him lead you to a secluded bench in one of the more quiet hallways of Hogwarts. He let you sit down first before sitting next to you.

“So what did you need?” He lifted his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across your lip.

Utter pain flooded your body as you closed your eyes, unable to look at the person you loved most in the world.

“George-” You choked out. George’s hand fell. You opened your eyes to see his face. He looked like you had slapped him.

He shook his head. “No. Love, I know what you’re thinking. And no. Please-”

But you steeled yourself. Reminded yourself why you were doing this. You knew a part of George would be here with you, not focused on the shop. His dream. Him and his best friends dream that they had worked so hard to build.

What kind of girlfriend- what kind of friend would you be if you held him back from that?

That thought helped you.

“I- I think we should break up.” You looked into George’s warm brown eyes.

George’s hands grabbed yours. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Tell me. I’ll fix it. Just please don’t-”

It took every ounce of strength for you to continue to look at the man you loved and not cry- to not give in.

“I’m sorry, George.” You couldn’t help leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Your lips lingering for a second longer than they should’ve. “I love you.” You whispered before standing and walking away.

“Wait-” George’s hand grabbed your wrist. Tears had already begun pouring down your face unable to be held back anymore. So you knew better than to look backwards at him. He would be able to read you the moment he saw your tears. “Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything.” His hand was shaking around your wrist. His voice sounded broken.

It’s for his dream.

You sucked in a deep breath.

“Goodbye, George.”

You pulled your wrist from his grip and continued down the hall. Each step an effort as you heard his shout echo through the castle.

But he didn’t chase you.

Despite it being what you wanted, it hurt.

-----

The day George and Fred left felt like mercy. The days after the break up were some of the hardest you’d ever been through. It wasn’t that Fred or George were mean to you, in fact no one was.

It was the way George looked. And the way he looked at you whenever you failed at avoiding him.

His normally glowing skin was pale. He had a slump in his shoulders that had never been there before. The looks of utter longing and confusion he sent your way, broke a piece of you you didn’t even know you had.

Fred wasn’t better. He looked at you like he knew. Like he knew exactly what you were doing, and couldn’t tell whether to be grateful or upset.

But all that ended when they left.

Yet, all that began after they left was something new. On top of your hurt was Umbridge’s desire to make your life miserable. As the girlfriend- ex girlfriend of one half of her arch nemesis, she took all her anger out on you.

You took it.

The thought that rang loud and clear in your head as you carved I will be obedient into your hand was-

He’s living his dream.

He’s living his dream.

He’s living his dream.

And so you would bleed any amount. Feel any level of pain. Miss him more than you thought possible. Take his anger or blame. All if it meant he was happy.

-----

Somehow, despite working at Flourish and Blotts for six months, you hadn’t managed to work up the courage to visit Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes only a few doors down.

You passed it every morning on the way to work, and every night on the way back home.

Usually you’d avert your eyes. Sometimes you’d glance up, seeing the giant likeness of the twins lifting his hat. Very rare times, you stopped for only a second to glance in the windows. Every glimpse was something new. Sometimes there’d be a new product sitting in the windows. Once there was a laughing child, who’s face held nothing but pure joy.

But you’d never seen him.

Until one day, you decided to risk more than a glance.

You were walking home. Flourish and Blotts closed an hour before Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes did. As you began to pass the store, a strong desire you’d been suppressing for a year gripped you.

You desperately wanted to see what you sacrificed your heart for. You wanted to see what became of their dream.

With a deep breath, you turned and walked to the door of the shop. It glowed. Your hands pushed the door open and you walked into the most magnificent store you’d ever been in.

Color bloomed on every surface. Everything was labeled. You saw their earlier inventions, ones you had been a part of, sitting on a shelf off to the side. You took a few steps in and just let your feet guide you.

Your fingers grazed the Extendable Ears, the Nosebleed Nougats, the Love Potions, and newer inventions like the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. A smile lit up your face as you spun in the middle of the shop. Laughter was the music and joy seemed to radiate from every corner of the shop.

This was exactly what you hoped.

What you dreamed for them.

Then your eyes caught on a small display in the furthest corner of the shop. Your body carried you before you could think about it.

On the display were a collection of glass balls the size of a Bludger. They were all clear, with nothing inside. But what truly caught your eye were the glass balls hanging above the display, scattered like stars. Inside each of the hanging orbs were different scenes. You leaned towards one up to inspect it closer.

Inside danced two figures. One in a glittering silver gown and another in a brown tux with sparkling lights floating above them. It took a minute to realize it was you and George. You blinked back tears before turning to the next floating orb.

One figure was carrying another one running towards what appeared to be a lake-

You looked at the next one.

George kissing you under the moonlight after you admitted your feelings to each other in the Astronomy tower.

You and George sitting together in the Great Hall laughing about a stupid joke.

George running his fingers through your hair as you slept.

You stumbled back.

What were those memories doing here? You looked around to see the name and description of the product, your frantic need causing you to stumble back another step. But instead of falling, your back met a hard chest.

You froze.

You didn’t need to turn around to know exactly who it was.

“They’re Memory Ornaments. You can make copies of your favorite memories and hang them as decoration. They usually do better around the holidays.”

A sharp breath left your lips. It was the first time you’d heard his voice in almost a year. It was soft.

You wondered then if he knew who you were. If he ever became resentful of you after the breakup. You hoped not.

His arm came from behind you, reaching up to an ornament hanging a foot or so above your head.

“These are all my memories. But this one is my favorite.” He pulled it down and held it to your eyes.

Inside were two people sitting on a bench holding hands. One crying and the other trying not to. The last time you and him talked.

And this was his favorite?

You couldn’t help the question that bubbled out of your lips. “Why?”

You felt him lean down, his breath brushing your ear.

“Several reasons. First, it was the last time I talked to the only girl I’ve ever loved.” His free hand came up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You should’ve known then. But you refused to believe it. “Second, she tells me how much she loves me-”

You whipped around tears in your eyes. “That’s not at all what she said. She broke up with you.”

You thought you were prepared to see the face of the man you were still head over heels in love with. But you weren’t.

He glowed with sheer and pure happiness. His hair was shorter. He was definitely taller. The bright suit fit him so well, you almost reached up to feel his biceps under the sleeves. You missed that cheeky curved smile that lit up for you. The kindness in those beautiful brown eyes, that looked down at you in that moment like he was dreaming.

He must’ve released the orb, because his hands settled on your cheeks. “I think we remember things differently, love.”

The tears did fall then as you tried to break his grip. But it was as firm as it was gentle. You lifted your hands to push against his chest. “No, George. I broke up with you-”

“So I could have this.” His eyes were earnest. You opened your mouth to lie but he cut you off again. “Fred told me after a few months. To be completely honest, after I’d gotten over the initial hurt, I’d guessed as much. It seemed exactly the kind of dumb self sacrifiice you’d do.” His thumb reached up to brush a few tears.

“I’m sorry, George.” You closed your eyes, unable to look at his kind and loving face. “I heard you that night. You and Fred were talking about leaving. You said you couldn’t leave me.” You opened your eyes. He had to know you didn’t want to do it. “But this is your dream. I couldn’t- I can’t keep you from that.”

George huffed a laugh before leaning down until his face was level with yours and inches away. It was an effort to maintain eye contact. But you knew it would take more effort to drag your eyes from his.

“Do you know what I’ve been dreaming of since the day we left Hogwarts?”

You shook your head as much as George’s grip allowed.

A gentle smile overtook his face before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You felt every thought and feeling pour into you from him. Everything he didn’t know how to say and yet knew exactly how to translate it through his kiss. Your hands, still pressed against his chest, wound around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. And in return, you sent your own love through the kiss. Hoping it could tell him what you struggled to.

That you loved him more than words could ever begin to describe.

Until he pulled back gently, his forehead resting on yours.

“You, love.”

You leaned back a fraction, looking at his still closed eyes.

His lashes fluttered as his eyes opened, staring straight at you.

“I dreamed of you.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. A smile you hadn’t smiled in a year. Your hand reaching up and tangling in his hair as you pulled him back to you. Your lips claiming each other again, promising without words to never let go again.

Let me know if you want to join my taglist! @huffledor-able541​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​

[pregnant-piggy]

I’ll take care of you

Draco Malfoy x reader

Request:  hey! can you write a draco x reader where they are in a new relationship and the readers parents are abusive but they don’t beat her bc they are all about the image but for torture they barely feed her when she is at their house on holidays so when draco sees her again after the holidays he notice that she is extremely thin and he is really worried and you continue thank you!! (anon)

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: talking of abuse (nothing really explicit, but it’s talked of)

A/N: I didn’t want to write this too explicitly, because it’s a heavy subject. I am sorry it took so long. I hope you like it :)

- - - - - - 

The Hogwarts express blew steam into the hot air as platform 9¾ was crowded with people. Families said their last goodbyes to each other, parents kissing their children and already longing for Christmas when most of their children would come back or sighing happily as they now finally had some peace. There were first years nervously standing beside their trunks, staring at the ink red train. Birds squeaked in their cages and cats that had escaped ran between the people.

You sat in an empty compartment, staring at the scene on the other side of the window. Your parents had dropped you off earlier, before the crowd. Their goodbyes had been quick and cold, like always.

Resting your head against the back of the seat, you closed your eyes. A deep breath calmed the nerves. You had been going to this school for five years and yet you were scared. Your sixth year was standing ahead of you, a year full of exams, new teachers and more stress. But you were looking forward to it.

A whistle was blown and the final students hopped on the train. A few hung out of the window, waving goodbye to the people on the platform until they disappeared from view. The decor of the station soon changed for the scenery of the green fields. Lands of grass and wildflowers passed by in a blur as the train made speed.

For the first time since you had gotten home after last year, you relaxed. Your compartment was empty, but you didn't mind. You embraced the silence and stared out of the window to the green haze.

The voice of the person you hadn't seen in so many weeks and whom you had missed dearly, broke your thoughts.

‘I thought you weren't even on the train,’ Draco said and he sat down next to you, but not before kissing you softly on your lips. You rested your head on his shoulder and breathed in his calming scent.

You and Draco had gotten together in the last month before the summer. The Slytherin boy you had had a crush on for months back then, had answered to your feelings by asking you out on a date.

- -- -

Three Gryffindor students were talking loudly in the library as you tried to concentrate on the work in front of you. Herbiology had never been your strongest subject and you needed to get a good grade on this test or who knows what would happen.

Just as you were reading about the healing powers of the pink and purple plants you had been studying this semester, someone else entered the library. You didn't need to look longer than a second to see who it was; you could recognise Draco from miles away.

He loitered at the bookcase and you quickly turned back to your book, before he would realise you were staring at him. But now you had seen him, you could not not think about him. His light hair and light grey eyes flew around in front of your eyes and your Herbiology was left for what it was.

You had been crushing on the Slytherin for a while now and you weren't even sure how you got to it. It was one day, when he bumped into you in the Potions cabinet and he apologised, that you had felt the butterflies as he touched your shoulder when saying sorry. And ever since then you had found yourself drawn to him whenever he was in the room. Funny how such a little touch could turn your life upside down.

Madam Pince had shooed the Gryffindors away and the library was filled with such a silence that you could hear your own thoughts loud and clear, as if they were being spoken out loud. Draco stood at the bookcase closest to you and it took all your strength not to look at him.

You stared at the words of the book that lied in front of you. They didn't make any sense. You dropped your head sighing in your hands and stared with empty eyes ahead of you.

‘What are you working on?’ Draco asked and you scared up.

The blood rushed to your cheeks and you scrambled up. You looked Draco and then back at your book before you answered. ‘Well, right now nothing.’

‘So I can sit next to you?’

‘Uhm, sure.’

Draco dropped his bag on the table and took the chair next to you. He didn't pull out any books but instead turned to you. His knees were pressed lightly against your thigh and you balled your fist on the side of your body, out of his sight.

‘Shouldn't you be doing something?’ you asked, afraid he would leave if you didn't say anything.

Draco laughed loud, receiving an angry glare from madam Pince. He shook his head with a smile on his face and got closer to you, resting his arm on the back of your chair.

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he said with a low voice.

‘Why?’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Draco laughed softly again. ‘Because I want to get to know you. I fancy you, you see?’

You stared at him for a second and your jaw dropped. He liked you? You tilted your head to the side and watched Draco. He still had a smile on his face but you could see through his confident exterior that he was anxiously waiting for a reply from you.

‘I fancy you too, Draco,’ you said and gave him a smile.

He seemed encouraged by your confession and moved even more closer.

‘Enough to ditch Herbiology and spend time with me?’

‘That you even have to ask,’ you grinned.

- -- -

You didn't look very good, Draco noticed. Something had changed over the summer and when he took your hand and felt that your fingers took less space in his hands, he realised you had gotten thinner. Not just a little, healthy thinner, but more of a haven't-eaten-in-a-while-thin.

Your head rested on his shoulder and he could hear your steady breaths. He had missed that sound, just as he had missed everything about you. Even though you and him had only been dating for a month before the summer came, he had grown to you so much over that time. And in the summer he had not seen you at all and even barely spoken to you. Your letters were few and short.

Draco had been filled with doubts over the summer; did you still like him? Or had you realised that maybe you didn't like Draco after all?

But now you were resting against him, your hand tightly in his he realised that his doubts had been unjust. You liked him just as much as he liked you. Or maybe even love.

‘Darling?’ Draco asked and you lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him. ‘How was your summer. Your letters weren't exactly detailed.’

You sighed softly and averted your eyes from Draco's face. Your fingers played with the bottom of your shirt and you didn't look up as you talked. ‘It was fine,’ you muttered.

‘Okay,’ Draco slowly said, taking your hand in his. ‘You know you can tell me anything, right?’

You looked up to Draco and he saw tears pooling in your eyes. Without hesitating he pulled you close to his chest and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You sobbed softly into the crook of Draco's neck as he rubbed your back.

‘It's alright, darling. I'm here,’ he whispered into your ear and you tightened your grip on him.

For minutes the compartment was only filled with the sound of your sobs and Draco's reassuring words. He wanted to know why you were crying, but he knew he should give you your time. He was there for you, now and for as long as you'd have him.

‘You want to tell me?’ he whispered as you pulled away.

Your face was close to his and he watched the tears in your eyelashes. Your eyes were red and your nose was running, but Draco thought you were more beautiful than ever as you trusted him to be vulnerable in front of him. He cupped your cheek with his hand and kissed you on your nose, making you giggle lightly.

With the back of your hand you wiped away the tears of your face before you spoke with a quivering voice. ‘It's my parents. They- When they get mad at me- The whole summer-’

You stopped talking and sighed defeated, looking at your hands. Draco took your hand gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Take your time.’

You took a deep breath and looked back at Draco. ‘They don't let me eat. They say they can't physically hurt me, but they don't give me dinner or breakfast. They say they're disappointed in me and that I bring a shame to the family...’

Your voice got softer again and you looked insecure at Draco. He felt the hate for your parents razing through his veins. He wanted to do something to them. But now his priority was you, as you were crumbling apart in Draco's hands. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you leaned into his chest.

‘It's alright, love. I am glad you told me. I will take care of you, darling. We'll find a solution. We will stay at Hogwarts for Christmas and I am sure my parents won't mind if you come to stay with us next summer. Don't worry, I’ll help you through this,’ Draco said, his own voice trembling with emotion. ‘You’re safe with me.’

‘Thank you Draco,’ you said in his chest and moved your head to place a kiss on his jaw.

‘I would do anything for you, darling.’

- - - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @bloodblossom73 @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna

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MASTERLIST

[beiasluv]

mystery lover / George Weasley x (fem!)Reader pt.1/?

Summary: (y/n) is a beauxbatons student who joined Hogwarts for the tri-wizard tournament, could she find her soulmate in time before the tournament ends?

words count: 1.1k

soulmate AU: when you sleep or dream you’ll get small snippets of your soulmates day.

(y/b/h/n): your beauxbatons house name / (y/q/p): your quidditch position

*my English might not be perfect*

ENJOY!

‘bye dad, bye mum, i’ll be writing to you guys,’ your heart is filled with sorrow to say goodbye. another summer had departed and now (y/n) is in her fifth year about to graduate from beauxbatons academy of magic. ‘i love you mum, i love you dad,’ you have them one final hug, and wandered into the beauxbatons carriage. the abraxan horses depart softly into the skies. without a doubt, you would be arriving at the academy, in not so long.

---

‘are we almost there yet?’ your classmate asked. 

it is the year 1994 and you are on your route to the Scottish highlands where the well-known hogwarts school is located. this time hogwarts is appointed to hold the tri-wizard tournament, and beauxbatons is one of the three to compete against. the beauxbatons carriages are one of the fastest transportation in the magic world, but regardless slower than the procedure of an apparition. however, apparition requires complicated work to master. students can obtain severe splinched. (y/n) was able to capture some doze on the way. despise the magnificent scenery, you were extremely weary to maintain your eyes open.

‘the beauxbatons are going to arrive soon! i’m so excited!’ your soulmate squealed in enthusiasm.

‘you won’t care to mind the durmstrang boys, huh?’ a younger red-haired girl asked him back.

‘no not a soul,’ responded your soulmate.

‘(y/n) you alright?’ ‘you’ve been smiling since we passed London,’ a sixth year raised a question.

‘Oh! er...you know soulmates,’ (y/n); embarrassed, finished off with a fake laugh.

‘Ah..soulmates thing like this gotta take some times, good luck finding him.’

‘Er...thanks!’ (y/n) turn her head to the enormous window to discover that they are soaring over the Great Lake and the castle in the background.

‘welcome to another year at beauxbatons academy of magic, i am incredibly delighted to have all of you here,’ madam maxime greeted. ‘first years you would be performing your sorting ceremonies, very shortly,’ she gave out an assuring smile. ‘now, the first years must take a silver arrow and shoot it across the room. once the arrow erupted to your house color you may be seated with them.’ 

‘oi diane’

‘what?’ diane responded annoyed. (y/n) and diane had been best friends since their first year, noticing an irritated face is the simplest task a best friend could do.

‘what’s wrong, hmm?’ (y/n) give a little nudge.

‘HIM’ one word that she delivered, and you understood it. how did you know? it’s all about soulmates in this world. every time you took a quick snooze or a deep slumber, you would get a short snippet of your soulmate’s life. unluckily diane’s soulmate must have done something nasty. diane sighed and turned over,

‘(y/n) do you ever know who is your soulmate?’

‘i don’t recall, i’ve never got a clue of who he is,’ (y/n) sighed. ‘but i know he has a twin, he likes quidditch. to the fact that during the world cup i dreamed about the world cup so many times, i don’t even have to watch the game to know who’s winning because of my soulmate,’ they both let out laughter.

‘viktor i love you~’ 

‘viktor i do~,’ an identical-looking boy sang. 

‘when we're apart, my heart beats only for you!~,’ a jet-black haired boy joined.

‘Silence!’ madam maxime snapped you out.

‘Important Announcement! our school will be joining the tri-wizard tournament with durmstrang and our good friend hogwarts,’ everybody stumbles into silent. ‘students from year fifth and sixth who would wish to join, please come and enroll at the front of my office,’ chattering jerked between the older kids. ‘now, let the feast began!’ food emerged on the table and those hungry children jump in and start digging.

‘i’lljustcheckoutthesignupsheet,’ 2 weeks later here she is on the beauxbatons carriages on her way to hogwarts

---

‘please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the beauxbatons academy of magic!’

several weeks had flown away. the tri-wizard tournament had begun, with the “four” champion Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and the surprising Harry Potter. (y/n) keep dreaming of her soulmate every day and every night. as each day passed she seem so close to the answer, yet so far.

‘(y/n)! you are (y/n) right? i’m hermione granger, we were assigned to take care of a student from beauxbatons,’ hermione smiled widely and shook her hand.

‘pleasure is mine ms. granger,’ you bow just like how your school had taught.

‘oh! no need to call me ms. i am just a student better call me hermione,’ she laughed at how polite (y/n) was.

‘better go to our first class then,’ hermione lead the way through the gigantic castle of hogwarts. 

lesson after lesson (y/n) was beginning to memorize the schedule, and she became good friends with the golden trio. one evening hermione introduced (y/n) to the great library of Hogwarts.

‘finally a place to hangout from the freezing winter,’ (y/n) squeal out of excitement, but was greeted by the ‘shush!’ of madam pince. ‘better watch out for her, she needs to sort out her priorities,’ hermione mumbled loud enough for you to hear but weak enough not to be caught. ‘let’s get inside to my favorite space.’

week by week you become a wonderful friend to hermione. not that she never had a similarly aged friend before, but your intellect is possibly be communicating the exact language as each other. hermione never previously have an intellectual discussion until she meets you; she was pleased with Professor Mcgonagall’s choice. a lot of trusts had been put into your relationship, at the level that you guys start sharing secrets. one of the vastly significant secrets you shared with hermione is about your soulmate. 

‘so...’ you paused to a long inhale.

‘i’ll wait until your ready,’ hermione expressed compassionately. ‘thank you hermione, i think i’m ready to say it.’ (y/n) closed her eyes, letting her mind wandering around beautiful memories she had an experience. ‘let’s see...he is red-haired, have a twin...,’ you let out endless evidence about the mysterious someone, while hermione struggled to scrambled it up into a note.

‘do you know who he might be?’ your eyes glistened with ambition. 

‘We’ll see,’ hermione mumbled.

---

‘(y/n) would you wish to attend and watch my quidditch game this week? it’s gryffindor versus slytherin,’ harry said to you while shoving a piece of bread and his pumpkin juice into his mouth.

‘Sure! i’ll love to attend hogwart’s quidditch, let's see if it's as good as beauxbatons one!’

‘of course! we are glad the one and only (y/b/h/n)’s (y/q/p) is attending the game.’ hermione joked. 

‘hey! one thing would you guys finally tell me, who do you think is my soulmate? i’m dying to find out who he is,’ her head bows low, just like her hopes. 

‘you’ll see after this match’

hermione was smiling at ron and harry, what’s happening?

‘great! we’ll see you,’ harry stood up and roamed out of the great hall.

[teddybasmanov]

I hope you all know that after I managed to pick myself off the floor (quite literally, the last bits of dignity were only enough not to go lower than on my knees reaching for the ground and silently choking on one name) and go for my ten a.m. PE that was what I was listening to almost on loop on my way there.

The lyrics (and some more thoughts) are long and I'm not sure if there should be any trigger warnings there, but I think none of that is a spoiler to the audio:

So, a thought first: sometimes I would recite song lyrics or poetry to calm down. Especially in a situation where it feels like you should immediately jump to action when you actually have to sit still and wait patiently. I would write them down, or speak out loud if I can. So, I imagine the freelancer, next morning, alone in the room (maybe rocking back and forth a bit), reciting this, because it's long, complicated and very dramatic. Also, as you can guess I'm getting second-hand homesick.

Jingles rang. And horses in hot lather

The tachanka was carried towards the unbroken snow

You, my poor friend, were blinded that evening

Two black eyes under a knocked-out pince-nez.

There was a struggle for death. They fought for a place

And the right to vomit at the wedding table.

In a hurry to become everything at once, raping the bride

They shot at random and pushing their way through.

Today your city has become a festive postcard.

Classic union of carnation and bayonet.

Stitched with a tight, harsh red thread

All the holes in your rotten frock coat.

To the radio shot of the Moscow alarm bell

On wedding sheets that are drying in the corners

Unfolded blood as a symbol of a passionate date

Mixed in wine with sins in half.

My friend, others are here. We are not far from them

Zealous eunuchs. Dumb bowstring.

Crippled palaces stretched out their shoulders to the sky.

The Neva hits from the wound. Empty sleeves.

Turn your cheek to the rain, in the traces of past slaps.

If trouble kept us, how we keep it.

But memory is eager to fight. And spins like a counter

Falling over you and turning into a halo.

That's how it twisted us and tied us tight

Beautiful scarlet bow with a bloody bandage.

And the wedding in the voronoks* flew to the train stations.

And the paths wavered. And parted with a cross.

Moustached "hurray" of someone else's, ill-will

Spinning Peter's boat in the steering wheel.

We were looking for the wind of the Nevsky in the Champs Elysees

And getting used to calling Fontanka - Yenisei.

You bridge the bridge of teeth under crumbly plaster

But the dome of the forehead is bursting with the grave melancholy.

Thunderstorm, fireworks and we! - and we fly over Petersburg

Into the grate of nightmares, cutting the spire of the string.

Fly through the times that bent the country

Into the ram's horn and drank from it.

Everyone drank for him - and you and I drank

For conscience and for fear. For everyone, who

Were licked off by the tongue of the rough blockade.

For those who did not have time to say goodbye, leaving.

My friend, take your pants down and with a naked Summer Garden

Take your guilt in the rain.

Defying the Dry law, rain in a marble bowl

Pours black and thick autumn home-brew.

My friend "fatherland" repeats like "Our Father"

But something from himself, sending it in pursuit.

Fireworks are outside the windows. Tsar-Pushkin with a new frame.

The dead do not drink, but we shall not spill.

Double-headed eagles with broken wings

Can't share the crown among themselves.

The likeness of a star in the image of a cigarette stub

Get a light, my friend, calm down, take your time

My poor friend, from the depths of your soul

The heart of Petersburg is beating its hoof

*Prisoners transportation car (usually black)

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #2

A/N: Chapter 2, here you go. I can’t believe how much I missed writing, let me tell you :D Also, looking at my draft and at how high the word counts for every chapter I’ve written so far turned out… we’re in for a long one, hope you’ll stay with me through it. Enjoy!

Warning: mild swearing, use of alcohol

 Word Count: ~ 2.700

______________________________________________________________ 

Chapter 2: Secrets Spilt

Orion leaned back contently, supporting his weight on the bench with his hands and let his gaze wander through the Great Hall. It was looking magnificent as ever, packed to the brim with students new and old, chatting excitedly, the air humming with positive energy. They had just finished their welcome feast and waited for the new first years to be escorted to their common rooms, so the older students could follow up.

He felt a smile spread on his face. As much as he appreciated the summer break to reset and focus on himself, there was nothing quite like coming back to what was home to him. He looked at each of his friends around him, grateful for having found so many people over the last years he considered his family.

A group of newly sorted Gryffindors walked past, being ushered along by Gryffindor’s newest prefect. Charlie Weasley, star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Orion eyed him up curiously. He was undeniably gifted when it came to playing seeker. As a matter of fact, Orion wouldn’t put a professional career past his abilities. If they wanted to have a chance to win the House Cup once again, they had better watch out for him.

When he passed where Lizzie was sitting, he nonchalantly saluted her with two fingers put to his forehead and grinned. Lizzie stuck her tongue out to him before she started laughing and waved back. Charlie gave her a wink and continued along after his brother Bill and their charges. Orion noticed Skye giving Lizzie a glum look.

“Stop that, Jameson, this is competition you’re flirting with.”

“I wasn’t flirting, I was waving at a friend. Get a grip, Skye,” Lizzie snapped at her, clearly exasperated.

Skye only snorted at that. “Whatever. He’s in another house and on top on another team. You can be nice to him all you want, once we’ve shown Gryffindor the ropes on the pitch.”

“What if we’re playing them last, do you expect me not to talk to one of my best friends for the whole year or what?” Lizzie shot her an angry glance. “Besides, if you weren’t so consumed with seeing everyone as competition, you could actually benefit from me being friends with him. He is excellent on his broom. I bet he could even show you a trick or two.”

Skye bristled up at that and Orion felt resignation set in. He had hoped Lizzie and Skye would last at least a week until their inevitable bickering commenced. Although they had been playing on the same team for so many years, their different approach to the sport they both loved so much invariably led to tensions. Tensions that were his responsibility as the team’s captain to resolve.

“Everyone has their strengths as well as their weaknesses. We should not concentrate on others but focus on how we can overcome our weak sides to rise stronger than before.” He leaned over the table pushing the two girls glaring at each other gently apart. “It is no use to fight amongst ourselves when we have a common goal to achieve.”

“He’s right, you know,” Penny agreed happily. “I’ve had enough of the Cup being dressed in blue and bronze already. You two be nice to each other and take it back for us.”

Much to his surprise, Skye actually let it rest at that, only muttering a stubborn “They could show me shit, Jameson, as if…” but Lizzie wasn’t listening to her anymore. Rowan was walking past with their new housemates in tow and Lizzie jumped up, walking over to her. Though Orion couldn’t hear what they said, he saw Lizzie return of few moments later, looking puzzled and Rowan leaving with the first years.

He opened his mouth to ask what was bothering her but was cut short by McNully announcing Hufflepuff’s first years to have been the last of them and it being high time they left for their common room as well.

*

Saying he was relieved to finally be able to get out of his school uniform would have been an understatement. He shrugged into his battered coat, running his hand over the worn fabric. It had been with him for so long it almost felt part of his identity. Orion felt himself relaxing more and more. Laying back on his bed, arms crossed behind his head, he closed his eyes and let the familiar smell of warm wood and the fire from the common room wash over him.

This was home.

The other boys sharing the dorm with him were still gathered around the giant fireplace, but he didn’t mind. Although they were about to start their sixth year together, he didn’t really feel connected to them. The only exception was McNully, who shared his passion about Quidditch, albeit in quite a different way.

He propped himself up on his side and reached over to his nightstand, where he had put up pictures of his team he had collected over the course of the years. Picking up the first one he could reach, he fell back again, letting his mind wander back to the glaringly hot day the photograph had been taken. It was a snapshot of the team celebrating a last-minute win against Ravenclaw two years ago. He could almost feel the heat of the sun on his skin as he looked at the exhilarated faces of his friends. The sudden burst of joy mixed with relief of not being shot out of the race for the Cup had even let Skye forget the fight she had had with Lizzie at the time, both girls having one arm around the other’s shoulder, grinning like mad up at him.

A soft sigh escaped him. As much as he valued his friendship with both of them, Skye and Lizzie could both be a handful, especially when disagreeing with each other. Where Skye was peculiar with her subordinating every aspect of her life to Quidditch and expecting everybody else to do the same, Lizzie was extremely prickly when she felt herself or one of her friends being attacked. Most of the times their quarrel was nothing more than that and they quickly returned to being friends, but every so often it would turn into a downright fight.

Orion looked up when he heard the door opening and the soft noise of McNully’s wheelchair approaching him.

“Taking a trip down memory lane?” McNully came to a halt next to him, looking curiously at the picture Orion was holding in his hands.

“Yes, setting my mind for all the things that need to be done for the new season.”

McNully leaned closer, eyes shining excitedly. “And there are a lot of these! You need to find a new beater, scout out what the other teams are up to, assess their strengths and weaknesses- “

“Good to see you have already worked out my whole schedule,” Orion interrupted him flatly.

McNully gracefully ignored the rare sarcasm in his friend’s voice. “What did you expect, I had the whole summer to think about this. And if you want to know, I do think Gryffindor will be your hardest contender for the top. Contrary to us, their team remains unchanged and they only lost to us last year due to circumstances that are highly improbable to repeat themselves.”

Fading his voice out, Orion’s mind went back to what had happened in the Great Hall earlier. McNully was right. None of the other houses should be underestimated, but he had a feeling Gryffindor maybe deserved the closest look out of all of them. Although he really wouldn’t like to admit it out loud, in some way Skye had a point.

He looked over at McNully, lost in thought. “Do you think Lizzie and Charlie being so close could be a problem for us? Got any statistics for me on inter-house friendships influencing performance? Or was Skye overreacting earlier?”

The blond wizard only laughed. “Hey, don’t ask me about inter-personal relationships, especially regarding your teammates. After all,” and he rolled over to his own bed, smiling innocently, “I’m just your ever impartial commentator.”

 ***

 Lizzie’s face hurt from laughing. She leaned back against her bed post and wiped a tear from her eye while Tonks stopped her impersonation of Professor McGonagall, turning her face back into its original state. She reached for the bottle of cherry liquor they had been passing around. Shaking it gently she listened to the remainders of the liquid slosh inside.

“Uh-oh, girls, we’re almost done.” She set the bottle to her lips, emptying it in one big gulp.

“Oi, Tonks, let us in on the fun!” Skye protested but Tonks only grinned and burped before tossing her the empty bottle.

Lizzie felt herself giggling again, giddy from the alcohol coursing through her body.

Penny, who sat next to her, leaned forward and snatched the bottle out of Skye’s hands. Her cheeks were flushed and her voice already had slight slur to it. “To mark the occasion of me having my favourite girls ever back, how about a round of good old truth-and-dare?”

Everybody groaned but got up anyway and sat down in a circle on the floor. Penny placed the bottle in the middle and got her wand out.

“Remember, everyone not telling the truth or chickening out on the dare gets to live with neon green hair for the rest of the week. Except for Tonks who has to go with a boring colour of her choice.”

To emphasise the stakes, Tonks let her hair change colour, showcasing such a bright green it actually hurt to look at her.

Lizzie felt the familiar tingling on her skin as Penny cast the spell on them. She glanced sideways at Rowan, who didn’t look to keen on the prospect of the game, but said nothing. Maybe it would loosen her up a bit.

Penny spun the bottle. It came to rest on Tonks, who confidently chose a dare. Penny thought about it for a second. “I dare you to prank Madam Pince before the end of the week. “

Tonks laughed out loud. “Consider it done. And here was me thinking this was about something I don’t want to do.” She spun the bottle again, this time it stopped pointing at Lizzie. She tensed a little bit.

“Alright, Lizzie, truth or dare?”

Lizzie remembered the last time she had chosen the dare vividly. They had made her lecture Snape on every detail about her hair care routine, complete with a recommendation of her favourite shampoo. It had cost her ten house points, detention and a good chunk of her dignity.

Considering that, she really had no choice. “Truth, I guess. I’m too scared of you, Tonks.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you, we’re only on warm up. Have you been kissed before?”

Lizzie felt a blush creep up her face. Avoiding her friends’ curious faces she looked up at the ceiling. “Yes.”

“What?!” Penny shrieked, gripping her arm. “Who? When? Don’t be a buzzkill, tell us everything!”

Lizzie shook her head. “Not a chance.”

“You have to tell us!” Tonks complained. “You have to answer my question!”

“I know. I did. You didn’t ask for any details, so I have to tell you bugger all.” Ignoring Tonks’ pout, she grabbed the bottle and quickly spun it. She could feel Rowan’s eyes resting on her and felt a little guilty. She hadn’t even told her best friend about her first kiss.

She could still feel Rowan watching her while she dared Skye walking into the Great Hall at breakfast like a chicken but when she looked over, Rowan quickly dropped her gaze.

“Well, Lizzie, looks like it’s you again.”

She looked back to the middle of the circle where the bottle pointed at her for the second time.

Brilliant. She already pictured herself giving Snape an additional lecture on conditioner. She sighed. “Dare.”

Skye blinked innocently at her. “Smashing. I dare you to tell us who your first kiss was with.”

Lizzie looked at her dumbfounded. Tonks and Skye high-fived, looking thoroughly pleased with themselves.

“This is not how his game is working,” Lizzie protested helplessly.

“Yes, it is. Now spill the beans!” Skye replied smugly.

For a second, Lizzie contemplated how she would look with green hair, but with another glance at Tonks’s radiantly glowing head, she gave in to the inevitable.

Covering her face with her hands, she mumbled something incomprehensible.

Skye put a hand to her hear. “Sorry, can’t hear you!”

Exasperated, Lizzie threw her head back and exclaimed, “Alright, it was Charlie Weasley! There you have it!”

Her friends’ reactions came all at once. Penny was squealing, whereas Skye was glaring at her, yelling “Jameson, seriously?!”. Tonks was laughing her head off.

“I can’t believe it, Dragon Boy got himself a girlfriend!” she roared.

Lizzie fiercely shook her head. “Merlin, no, don’t you get any ideas! It was just that one kiss, nothing more. It was Christmas, there was a mistletoe and that is it! End of story!”

Penny couldn’t contain herself with excitement. “You two spent Christmas together? How come I never knew? Lizzie, you have to tell me everything. Right. Now.”

Again, Lizzie buried her face in her hands. Suddenly the prospect of lecturing Snape didn’t sound so bad.

Suddenly Rowan spoke up next to her. “You heard what she said. It was nothing serious and the dare is fulfilled. Leave her alone.”

Surprised, Lizzie looked over to her. For the first time that evening, Rowan smiled at her, albeit it was somewhat restrained.

She got up. “In fact, I think we’ve all had enough. Let’s call it a day, shall we?” With that, she snatched the bottle from the floor, grabbed her things from her bed and left the room.

*

Lizzie had been tossing and turning for over an hour now, listening to Skye softly snoring in the bed to her right. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through Mouse’s thick fur, who was rolled into a tight ball against her stomach. After returning from home, it always took her a few nights to get accustomed to sharing her room with other people again.

When she heard Rowan getting out of bed on her other side, she propped herself up onto her elbows. She could see her friend tiptoeing over to the dresser at the far end of the room, pouring herself a glass of water.

Lizzie watched her silhouette quietly. Better get this over with now.

She waited until her friend returned before turning to her side.

“Rowan?” she whispered quietly.

She could see the other girl looking up, although her features were indiscernible in the darkness.

“Lizzie? Can’t sleep, can you?”

“Yeah.” Rowan knew she always had trouble falling asleep for the first few nights. “Can I ask you something?”

Rowan didn’t answer immediately. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were made a prefect?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about you and Charlie?” she retorted. Lizzie could hear the hurt in her best friend’s voice.

She sighed softly. “I’m sorry, I know should have. We just thought, keeping this between ourselves would prevent stupid rumours from spreading. It was just for fun.”

Rowan didn’t reply at first. Then, “It’s alright.”

“Now you. Why didn’t you tell me about the prefect thing?”

“This has nothing to do with you personally, really. It’s just… you have gotten so absorbed into this whole Quidditch world; I feel like I can’t keep up. Sometimes it’s like I’m not that big a part of your life anymore, Liz.”

Lizzie felt a punch of sadness at her words. And a tad guilty as well. “You could have told me anytime. You are my best friend, Rowan, you are part of everything I do.”

Although she couldn’t see her face, she heard the smile in Rowan’s voice. “That’s good to know.”

They were both silent for a bit.

“Rowan?”

“Hm?” she replied sleepily.

“Thanks for helping me out earlier.”

“Sure. Good night, Lizzie.”

“Good night.”

Lizzie snuggled herself into her blanket, moving Mouse a little bit to make herself more comfortable. She couldn’t shake the feeling there was something Rowan had not told her. But before she could think on it any further, she had already drifted off to sleep.

[emelywrites]

Hi,can I request a Cedric's fic?Plot:?(Y/N) is somehow a precocious,calm Gryffindor with black long hair and red eyes,process introvert personalities with distance from other showing that she enjoy being alone after long time neglected by parents who only cares for her twin brother and sister that has family' blonde hair blue eyes,she get along well with Harry&Hermione,and they get her a date to the Yule Ball after they expressed their love to each other,which she only found out that one day...

Hi, I generalized the parameters for the reader a bit because you specified your request quite a lot and I hope for my stories to appeal to as many people as possible, so I hope you didn’t mind :)

Warnings: Kind of bad home life

That Misfit Gryffindor

It really only started when you came to Hogwarts. Your entire family was in Ravenclaw and suddenly you fell out of line and were sorted into Gryffindor. That wasn’t exactly that last straw. Your family had always been a bit less loving towards you. You were just always a little different.

When you got home the summer after your first year you hadn’t made any friends all year. Your older sister and twin brother were constantly talking about the Ravenclaw common room, the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helena Ravenclaw… you get the gist. You had managed to drown into some book when they started talking about how your brother could soon contribute to the Quidditch team.

Since then, books had become your safe haven. You spent all your free time in the library or when you did go somewhere else you still always had a book on you. That’s how you met Hermione Granger. She was a year below you and came up to you one day in her second year.

„Hello, are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?“, you nodded, „Professor McGonagall told me to ask you if I ever have problems with a class or I need advice because you’re at least an E in all your classes. And I’m going to choose my electables soon so I was wondering if you could give me advice.“

For the first time in a while you actually put your book aside and had a proper conversation with her. After that, you saw each other more. You met Harry and Ron through her and suddenly you had friends. Suddenly, your family’s disinterest in you didn’t seem to matter much anymore. You studied a lot with Hermione now, just so you wouldn’t be alone. Still, sometimes you liked to just sit in a corner and read.

You never noticed but Cedric found that intriguing. You read with such intent. Nothing around you fazed you and he started having his own study sessions in a place where he could throw you glances. He never actually talked to you. Truth was, he fell in love with you. And he didn’t even know your name.

In your fifth year, the Golden Trio’s fourth, Harry became a Triwizard Champion and while so many people turned against him you decided to believe him and help him. That’s how Cedric noticed you and Harry were friends. He didn’t get a date to the Yule Ball. It was quickly approaching and many girls had asked him already but he’d turned them all down hoping he’d get the guts to ask you.

„Harry!“, he yelled after your friend in the hall.

You and Hermione left the two to it and went to the library.

„Erm- You wouldn’t be able to tell me anything at all about your friend, would you?“, the Hufflepuff then asked.

„Hermione? Oh, she’s great, why-?“

„No, sorry, I mean (Y/N), is it? She- Does she have a date for the Yule Ball?“, he got really nervous but Harry smiled.

„No, she isn’t really one for dancing. She hated the class and constantly stepped on my feet. I was her partner. I asked her if she wanted to go as friends because I don’t have anyone to go with and neither does she but she told me the day she’d go to a ball is the day Merlin shaves“, Harry chuckled, “Respectfully.”

„Oh. Alright, sorry for bothering“, he hesitated, „By the way, have you figured out the egg?“, Harry shook his head, „The Prefects’ bathroom on the fifth floor, might be worth a bath“, he said with a small smile.

Harry felt bad for Cedric for a second. He wanted to help him and he’d just crushed his idea of a great date to the Yule Ball. Harry didn’t have a date either so he knew what Cedric felt, but it must’ve been worse for the Hufflepuff because he actually had an idea of whom he wanted to go with.

„Cedric, wait, erm- I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but (Y/N)- She’s been noticing you, talking about you. I think, if you asked her she might actually say yes.“

Neither of them said anything after that and just parted ways. Just two days later, Cedric found you. He brought a sunflower that he had grown now, in December, with the help of some spell and walked up to you in the library. He held the flower behind his back and cleared his throat.

You finished the sentence and closed the book. Then you looked at him. You smiled nervously.

„Oh, Cedric, hi.“

„Hi…“, he trailed off, not really knowing how to continue.

You noticed. „What- What you did during the last task - turning the rock into a dog to distract the dragon - that was pretty clever“, you said quietly, as you were sitting in the library, „Did you need something? Do you want to take a seat?“

He felt a weight falling off his chest when he sat down and handed you the flower. „I wanted to ask you if you would like to go to the ball with me?“

You had been looking at the flower and now looked back up at him with a shocked look in your eyes.

„Are- Are you serious? Wait, did- did my sister set you up for this? Are you going to make fun of me when I say yes?“, you got nervous and earned yourself a „Shush“ from the passing Madam Pince.

„No, no, I wouldn’t- Why would your sister want to do that?“

„She does like to use every opportunity to make fun of me. Sending my crush to ask me out to the Yule Ball and then stand me up sounds like something she’d set up.“

„Your crush?“, he smiled, looking down as he blushed.

You didn’t respond and you two sat in a somewhat awkward silence for a few minutes.

„Thank you for the flower. I really like it“, you whispered, „And I’d love to go to the ball with you.“

„Really?“, he had the brightest smile on his face, „I- What color dress will you wear? I’ll coordinate my tie-,“

You spent a while talking about your plans until Madam Pince came back to shush you out because you were too loud.

A couple days later you met Cedric in front of the Great Hall for the Yule Ball. You had to open the ball because Cedric was one of the champions and thanks to his help you actually did alright. You didn’t even notice that night but your siblings, who had gone to the ball together for the lack of anyone asking them - or accepting their asks-, were watching you with envy and from that moment on they were just a smidge nicer.

[venusxxlangdon]

Of Mice & Snakes. Part Two — The Mice

pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!reader x Tom Riddle

warnings: crossover, third-person narration, character death, smut, dub-con, dirty talk, fingering, oral (male receiving)

words: 11.5k

summary: The Dark Lord and his gray eminence are coming to end the regular world order. While the Slytherin Heir might have already put the crown on his head, keep in mind that it’s the Knight (Michael Langdon) who’s the most powerful on the grand chessboard of the wizarding war. When money, power, glory, and love collide, what will win in the end?

mood board by the one and only @micheallangdons

“No, please, don’t! No! Pleaaase!” Her deafening scream pierced through the thick, fetid air of the pit. She clawed onto the muddy walls, but her fingers slipped and she ended up falling to her knees, smearing the dirt all over her bony kneecaps and bruised thighs. The squelching sound of mud and mucus rang in her ears and mixed with the threatening hissing behind her. She squeezed her eyes and let out a desperate animalistic howl, trying with all her might not to look over her shoulder and see them — two huge serpents making their way to her small, trembling body. 

“Did you miss us, kitty?” Her blood ran cold at the sudden sound of a human voice echoing in her head. Her body jolted up, and she covered her ears with her dirty hands, but she could still feel the snakes approach her, come closer, their boneless bodies gliding along the ground. Like a trapped bird, a little prey with no chances of survival, her mind tried to come up with some, any plan to get out of this nightmare, but every thought was hammering against the gold cage of her subconscious without the slightest idea of the possible escape. 

Her heart raced like mad, pumping the thick blood, shackled with fear, through her veins. 

“Go away!” She cried out and whirled around, facing the beasts. Her breath hitched at the sight of the snakes with their big heads swaying slightly from side to side as if they were trying to hypnotize her. One of them was jet back, with the silver scale on its head, and the other was emerald green with spikes. She knew it was a dream, but the creatures looked so real, that the thought of actually dying there and never being able to wake up crossed her paralyzed mind. 

The serpents had become the frequent guest of her nightmares, none of which had been as realistic as the current one. She looked up at the rift above her head, through which a faint streak of light was coming. It was too high for her to reach. Having moved the gaze of her wide eyes back at the snakes, she gulped heavily. Their maws were not moving, but she still could hear their voices. They were whispering something like “we are coming, we want you, you are ours”.  

She put her hands in front of her and leaned forward, standing on all fours, digging her fingers into the goo; her hair covered her face like curtains. A shiver ran down her spine as she noticed from the corner of her eyes that the serpents had come closer, they were several inches away from her, their forked tongues darting out. There was only one way to end this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Empty yourself from emotions,” she heard Snape’s voice and tried to concentrate on it as if it was the lively beacon that could guide her through the nightmare. Her nostrils flared when she felt the beasts crawl closer, facing her. She knew if she opened her eyes she would be welcomed with the stare of two pairs of slit-like eyes. 

She had never been good at controlling her emotions, but at that moment, on the verge of death, she had to do it. Although it was almost impossible to calm the racing heartbeat down, she tried to tell herself to relax. At least a little bit, so her mind could jostle her out of the lucid dream. She gasped at the blow of cool air fanning over her ears.

“Y/N...” they hissed, “silly, little girl...”

And then...

“Legilimency,” another voice drawled, and a blinding spark of light flashed before her eyes. 

She shook her head violently, resisting the intruder. A pounding headache shot through her temples — it felt like as if someone was trying to cruelly scatter her thoughts and memories all over the ballroom of her mind and destruct her from her attempts to gain control over her subconsciousness. It became harder to breathe as if her lungs were held with a steel vice. 

She ran the tip of her tongue along her dry, chapped lips and grunted through the gritted teeth, “Protego!”

A loud, primeval scream bordering on terror that rippled through her sweaty body and shattered her brain, made the blood drain from her face, and before she was aware of making a conscious decision, her legs were pounding furiously in the mud. 

Her body bolted up in bed, and her wide eyes welcomed the darkness of the Prefects’ bedroom. She was panting heavily, her mouth rigid and open, her face gaunt and sulky, fists clenched with blanched knuckles. Her mind was still in the snake pit, so it took her a while to focus her eyes on the small window in the opposite wall that gave the view of the silver band of the Black Lake sprawled out in the distance. With a look of disgust, she glanced at her nightgown clinging to her body and hooked her fingers under the hem of her collar to take it off. She ran her fingers through her messy hair and slid her hands over the chiseled lines of her face, scratching her flushed cheeks as if she wanted to rip her skin off to get rid of the crawling feeling under it. She sighed and hanged her legs off the bed, placing her feet on the thick emerald green carpet. 

“Aguamenti,” she whispered and poured some water into a tall glass on her desk. It was down in one gulp, and as she put the glass back onto the polished surface, she leaned her hip against the corner of the oak table and blankly stared through the window, her back slouching.

Why was it all happening to her? Standing there with her toes flinching on the carpet pile, she reminisced to that ill-omened day when she found the accursed diary in her bag. Why was the universe so merciless to her? The moral cancer of dispiritedness had been eating into her heart for months, turning her into a malignant ball of fear. 

The burden of silence had become unbearable at some point and after she had heard the mysterious whisper calling her name in the hallway on her way to class, she decided it was time to share what had happened to her in the Chamber of Secrets at least with someone, otherwise, she would have gone mental. Winona Flint, who had seen the diary when that second-year student brought it to Y/N on the following day after the incident, was the first person the girl shared her experience with. Well, not in detail, of course. Fling’s reaction was quite predictable — as a reasonable witch, she told Y/N that the best thing to do was to let Dumbledore, or Snape, whom she always had a good relationship with, know. Little did Winona know that the poor thing was too scared and worried that the professors could find out that she had been fucked by two entities and really enjoyed it. When she admitted that shameful fact to herself, she forswore that she would never discuss it again.

She tried to get rid of the diary. On one of the gloomy Sunday mornings Winona and Y/N went to the backyard and spent two hours trying different charms to destroy the artifact.

“Insendio!” She pointed her wand at the diary. The lively flames licked the hardcover, turning the grass around it into yellow patches of straw. When the fire went out, it revealed the notebook without any slightest traces of distortion. Not even a scratch was made. 

They tried to find something about the diary in the library, but eventually, lost their privilege of using the Restricted Section. Irma Pince, the librarian and Study Hall observer, tracked the search history of the archives and demanded the explanation of why two Slytherin students had been fishing for the information about the darkest artifacts. 

The rules became stricter as more students were attacked by the mysterious creature. All Prefects were told to be more attentive to the first and second-year students, who always tended to sneak out late at night, and make sure that everyone was in their dorms after curfew. No matter how hard the professors had been trying to cover what was happening in Hogwarts up, panic started to rise in a geometrical progression. Scared students wrote letters to their parents about the “weird atmosphere at school” and some of them even stayed home after Christmas break. 

The usual spirit of mirth and joy that had always reigned in the Great Hall was replaced by the dark and gloomy atmosphere. Even the candles flowing in the air seemed depressive as if they were mourning the petrified victims. 

Everything went downhill after the first death. Ginny Weasley, a Gryffindor student and one of many Weasleys who were studying at Hogwarts, was found dead in the abandoned bathroom. It was the day when the Headmaster made the tragic news public. The reporters from Daily Prophet and other magazines flooded the castle like locusts. Rita Skeeter was in her element, interviewing Gryffindor students and then Molly and Arthur Weasley whose hysterical cries could be heard from afar.

“I heard she had asked them if they were sad because they lost a chance to be a part of that Family program Mr. Weasley had applied for last summer,” said Cedric Diggory to one of his mates, and Y/N who was leaning against the doorway and watching Ms. Skeeter pose with the crying Weasleys, snapped her head at him.

“Are you serious?” She asked in disbelief, and to her disappointment, Cedric nodded. 

“I’m telling you,” he glanced at the woman, “she’s fucking sick.” They all simultaneously looked back at the blonde woman who was flashing her pearly white teeth at the camera. 

Y/N frowned. How easy it was for one person to depreciate other people’s grief. In times when they all were in danger, unity was supposed to be the only thing that could help them, yet the voice of one of the most famous newspapers belonged to a heartless bitch who would never learn such words as sorrow, sympathy, and support. 

Over the past months, death had become a frequent visitor of Y/N's life. The familiar feeling of distress and pity that had been eating her from the inside like a nasty warm reminded her about itself on the following morning after she had been awoken by the nightmare. It filled her body like quicksilver, making every limb of hers heavy, nearly pinning her to the wooden floor. Looking through the small window, she was watching the faint sunlight trying to break through the thick blanket of the grey sky that was looming over Hogwarts. What if she was next? She could feel something inside of her, crawling its way out — the sickening fear of the unknown. She highly doubted that Tom and Michael were done with her, but it was not the worry about herself that made her insides flutter in terror. She cared about her family and the thought that something could happen to them was making her head spin. She wanted to make sure that her mom and dad were okay thus she was sending them letters every three days, asking if everything was alright. Every time her white owl brought the yellow envelope tied to its clawed paw, the feeling of relief washed over her. 

When Ginny died Y/N's mother wanted her to go home as soon as she could, but the girl had a strong feeling that she would not be safe away from Dumbledore and other professors. Besides, she could not use magic outside Hogwarts without passing her O.W.Ls*, so it was another reason why she chose not to leave. 

Having pushed the buttons of her white shirt into the holes and pulling them through absentmindedly, she got dressed and span around on her heels to take her black cloak with a green serpent adorning the breast pocket. She adjusted the cuffs and took a deep breath. How the hell she was supposed to go through the day when every fiber of her body was paralyzed with anxiety? The collar of her shirt felt too tight, suffocating; the laces of her shoes were like shackles, making every step torturously heavy, and the corners of her eyes tingled with upcoming tears. She ran her bony fingers through her messy hair nervously in a weak attempt to calm down. 

There were going to be so many people, and the professors would be watching her like hawks — she could already feel their stares and it made her physically uncomfortable, so she hugged herself tightly and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Unfortunately, she could not spend all day in the bedroom no matter how badly she wanted to do so. It was the day that would go down in history, and she should have been there to witness it. Probably one of the most important things the Slytherin House had taught her was the ability to wear a mask of a stone-cold detachment on her face even in times of grief. 

She cleared her throat, shrugged her shoulders as if she wanted to brush the weight of the burden off of her shoulders and made her way to the door. When she wrapped her fingers around the silver knob and twisted it, opening the door with a helpless squeaky sound, she froze and looked over her shoulder at the nightstand by her bed. That was where she had been keeping the diary, which no longer belonged to her. Dumbledore confiscated it from her on the day she confessed that she knew what creature had petrified the students. 

“There’s no guarantee she’s telling the truth, Headmaster,” her haze lingered over Snape’s pale fingers gripping onto the arms of the chair she was sitting in with such force that his knuckles bled white. He kneeled before her and looked her in the eyes through the greasy strands of his raven black hair. She shivered under his stare and looked away, focusing her attention on Dumbledore who was walking around the room with his hands behind his back. “Truth serum will give a loose to her tongue.”

“Severus, she’s not an enemy,” professor McGonagall intervened, arching her thin eyebrow in a reproachful manner, “miss Y/L/N is your student and her reputation is implacable.”

The remark did not seem to convince Professor Snape who knew more about the dark arts than anyone in the headmaster’s office. 

“We’re dealing with dark magic,” Snape hissed, his eyes still glued to Y/n’s  face overshadowed with fear, uncertainty, and shame. She slouched her back and looked down at her trembling hands, that were clutching onto the hem of her pleated skirt, suddenly looking so small and vulnerable that McGonagall’s heart sank. “Why all of a sudden miss Y/L/N decided to bless us with her confession?” He narrowed his snake-like eyes at Y/N. “Who is going to prove that she is not their ally...”

Her head flew up so unexpectedly that it made professor Snape recoil in surprise. Her wide, e/c eyes looked at him in disbelief. How could he even think such things of her? Her mind went back to the humiliation she had gone through in the Chamber of Secrets and the grievance of the unfairness washed over her. Why did she have to deal with false accusations when it was /her/ who should have been protected and taken care of? Her bottom lip started trembling, the omen of an approaching tantrum.

“Severus, that’s enough!” Dumbledore barked and raised his right hand, calling for silence. For a second the only sound disturbing them was the ticking of numerous magic objects in headmaster’s office and Y/N's quiet sobs. He squatted to her level, the draped fabric of his long, lilac gown polling around him, and softly touched her hand.

“Professor Dumbledore,” she started, hesitantly looking into the older man’s watery eyes that were studying her face attentively through his half-moon spectacles. There was something in his gaze that made her visibly relax — the noble calmness of wisdom and understanding. “I swear to Merlin, it wasn’t me... I just...”

She didn’t finish because of the lump in her throat and uncontrollable tears she had not even noticed at first.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” his voice was croaky, yet managed to sound gentle, “please, tell us if Tom and Michael had told you when they were going to come back?”

That question had been bothering her ever since. It felt like every day had turned into the exhausting waiting for Riddle and Langdon to strike. As she walked out of the Prefect’s bedroom, she made sure to check if the hallway was clear and only then headed out to where every student was going. To the Courtyard. The lapels of her school gown rustled with every step; she shoved her hands into the pockets and wrapped her fingers around the wooden handle of her wand — the small gesture made her feel safer. 

“Good morning, Mister Nicholas,” she greeted the Gryffindor ghost who pouted unhappily in response.

“Hardly, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“I’m sorry for the loss of your house,” she added, but the Nearly Headless Nick only shrugged and disappeared into the nearest wall. She bit her lip thinking how awkward it was for her to express condolences. She felt somewhat embarrassed by such things because it was difficult to find the right words that would not be too sentimental and too formal at the same time. 

The soft flames of the torches hanging on the walls were casting shadows on her face. The sound of her steps echoed through the semi-empty hallway matching the drumming of her racing heart. As she got closer to her destination, the sound of voices humming in the distance became clearer. Her nerves were tight as the violin strings when she made the last turn and the numerous rows of chairs, placed all over the yard, came in sight. She pushed her way through the crowd of students toward Slytherin pews.

Thick grey clouds moved in the afternoon sky, kissed into brilliant white by the sun. She pulled the collar of her cloak a bit higher to cover her neck — the chilly air made her a bit cold. She looked around, spotting a messy mane of bright ginger hair of Ron Weasley next to Hermione’s head. The kids were sitting next to each other, wiping off tears with the back of their palms. 

“Today we have gathered to acknowledge a terrifying loss,” Dumbledore’s voice thundered, drawing everyone’s attentioт. “Harry Potter was, as you all know, exceptionally hard-working, intricately fair-minded, and loyal student. But most importantly he was a great friend, Hogwarts Quidditch champion, and the outstanding young man with the bright future ahead of him. Only a few of you know how he died, so before we proceed to say goodbyes I would like to tell you about Mr. Potter’s heroic act of bravery. He was killed by two former Hogwarts students,” a shocked whisper rolled through the crowd, and Dumbledore had to wait until everyone calmed out. 

“Heroic? I bet Potter slipped and banged his stupid head,” Draco Malfoy smirked addressing Crabbe and Goyle who immediately nodded in agreement. “My father says Dumbledore will do his best to present the story in the best light with a bow on top.”

Y/N leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. The boy looked back and raised his brows at her.

“If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m gonna take ten points from Slytherin,” she sneered, feeling annoyed. 

Malfoy pursed his thin lips in disgust;  he looked at her hand still placed on his shoulder and shrugged it off. 

“That’s robbery,” he noted, giving her a sidelong glance, “you aren’t going to take the points from your house, are you?”

“Try me.” 

He was about to say something but the headmaster’s voice cut him off.

“Michael Langdon and Tom Riddle, whom you may know as Lorde Voldemort, were Slytherin students many years ago. With the help of a dark artifact they had managed to trap their souls in the Chamber of Secrets and waited many years to come back.” At the mentioning of Riddle’s and Langdon’s names Y/N shivered. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and leaned back into the chair, wishing she could disappear. Deep inside of her, she felt extremely guilty for Harry’s death. If she had told the professors about Tom and Michael it would have been possible to avoid many victims. 

“Harry Potter was killed by the person whose attack he had once survive. The dark times are coming. All students will be dismissed before the official end of the semester, the exams are to postponed until the next school year...”

Hot tears of feebleness burned in the corners of her eyes and she had to look up at the grey sky to let them dry. That was the moment when she noticed how weirdly the clouds were gliding along the silvery surface. The grey hues obscured the sky, covering the last patches of where the faint light tried to get through. The unexpected sound of thunder interrupted Dumbledore’s speech and made everyone lift their heads. A violent gust of wind raised a pile of leaves and swirled it in the vortex — Y/N had to cover her face with the palm. 

“Look!” Pansy Parkinson exclaimed and pointed at the patch of darkness that erupted from the sky in the form of a colossal skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth. The Courtyard was shaken with a loud CRASH. Y/N turned her head at the source of the sound, and her eyes widened at the sight of a huge fiery ball flying in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.

Many people were only just realizing that something strange had happened.

“What is going on?” Someone shouted and the helpless cry died down in the noise of the extended thunder that was coming from beneath the ground. The concrete floors started to crack.

“Holy shit.” Y/N cussed and drew her wand. Panic ensued quickly as the ground shook up and down as if the entire place suddenly fell from the sky. Scared students rushed to the main entrance of the castle. 

“Everyone, go inside! Now!” Professor Dumbledore cried out. “To the dungeons! Use the passageway to Hogsmeade. Prefects, listen to your deans for the further instructions!”

Y/N was pushed away and nearly got swept off her feet. She saw the smoke transform into tall, dark figures whose faces were covered with silver masks adorned with arabesque ornament. Her heart skipped a beat; she could feel the sweat drench her skin, and the ringing screams vibrating in her ears. She got a strong grip on her wand and curled the fingers of her other hand into a fist, nails digging into her palm. Pushing through the crowd, she made her way to the stairs ignoring the conciseness that was telling her to fulfill her duty as a Prefect and help the students. Images of her nightmare flashed before her eyes, and she gulped heavily, realizing that they came for her. Fear engulfed her body, churning her stomach in cramps. The only thought “Run! Get out!” was pounding in her head like a gong. The only person she cared about at that moment was herself. 

Her scream from deep within that forced its way from her mouth was so loud that she had to press her palm to her lips to muffle it. Her eyes widened at the body of a student that fell before her feet.  She looked back and gasped at the sight of the Courtyard ignited by the flashes of green, red and white lights. 

She sped up making her way to the Pendulum and then behind it toward the big wooden door. “To the left, and then forward, then again to the left” she was running faster than the wind, her mind racing. The plan she had come up with the other day was not thought out, in fact, she did not have any plan besides having her bag packed and kept in the wardrobe in case of emergency. She headed out to the Prefects’ bedrooms to pick it up and then go to the secret passageway to Hogsmead where she could apparate from. 

She stormed into her bedroom, the heavy door swinging open. She slammed it shut with a loud noise and locked it from the inside. Only when her back felt the wooden surface she let herself take an erratic breath. Her eyes skimmed through the room and she stopped her gaze at the big wardrobe that stood proudly against the wall. Her trembling fingers rummaged through the piles of neatly folded clothes; she grabbed the bag and tossed on the floor beside her. 

Suddenly she heard a noise behind the door and turned her head at it worryingly, instinctively gripping her wand tightly. The short hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end when the door flew open with a loud noise, and the clouds of dust obscured her vision, filling her nostrils. She started coughing, and before she could mutter “Protego!” someone’s familiar, stern voice said “Expelliarmus,” disarming her. Her wand fell from her grip and landed several feet away from her. 

As soon as the dust cleared, two tall figures walked into the room. Both were wearing the same masks she had seen on those wizards who had appeared at the Courtyard. They took them off with a delicate flick of their glove-clad hands, and a strangled yelp left Y/N’s lips when she saw who was in front of her. The arabesque masks revealed the features of those who she had been trying to forget all that time. It seemed like they had got even more handsome. Michael’s blonde hair styled in short, soft waves looked almost silver in the light that was splashing through the small window. His locks and vibrant blue eyes emphasized the beauty of his porcelain skin. He had a subtle hint of blush on his cheeks which she had not noticed in the Chamber of secrets. He was alive. Michael Langdon stood before her in flesh.

She moved her gaze at Tom starring at her with his rigid and cold eyes. The color of them matched the shade of his hair of the purest ink. She made a couple of steps backward but impaled herself onto the corner of the nightstand that hit her hip painfully. 

“Well, well, well,” Tom said in a sing-song voice, and her insides fluttered. He looked around the room and pressed his lips into a tight line. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s not polite to hide from your friends, sweetheart.”

She wrapped her trembling fingers around the lamp on the nightstand and pointed it at Tom in a threatening manner.

“Don’t you dare do anything to me,” she hissed, her eyes traveling back and forth from Michael to Tom. From Tom to Michael. 

“Michael, seal the door,” Riddle ordered without looking at Langdon and made a couple of steps toward her. She shivered at the feeling of the weird deja vu — everything resembled her nightmare, except for the human guise of Tom and Michael. “We don’t want Dumbledore to interrupt our fun, don’t we?” He arched his brow at Y/N.

“What do you want from me?” Her question came off as a piercing screech. 

“You want me to announce the list?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. Tom thrived off of the sight of her trembling lips and bright, e/c eyes gleaming with tears.

“I don’t understand,” she sobbed, “Why me? I didn’t do anything, I...” She froze to her spot when the sudden memory of what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets flashed before her eyes. She saw herself with her legs wide open, Tom thrusting into her worked up ass, and Michael taking her soaked pussy. She had been trying to forget it, the delicious stretch of both of her holes and intoxicating smell of the boys, for months. She was looking at Riddle with wide eyes and then she realized that he had sent that vision to her on purpose. 

Y/N shook her head and imagined a stone wall surrounding her mind. It was another trick professor Snape had taught her to block her subconscious from Tom’s intrusion.  Anger flashed in Riddle’s eyes when she shut him out of her thoughts. 

“Not bad, not bad,” he hummed, crossing his arms against his chest, “turns out Snape has taught you a thing or two.” It took his long legs just a couple of strides to approach her, his broad figure towering over her. “We would’ve never thought that you’d be so stupid and tell Dumbledore about what had happened,” he spat out. “If it hadn’t been you, many students wouldn’t have been at the hospital recovering from Basilisk’s attack.”

He knew what buttons to push. Even though she understood that Tom was aware of her weaknesses only thanks to Occlumency, she still felt guilty. She readjusted her fingers on the handle.

“You could’ve used anyone instead of me, and the outcome would be the same. Now, back off,” She barked and took a swing at him. When she was about to hit him, a pair of strong hands got wrapped around her waist and pushed her forward from the nightstand into Tom’s embrace. 

“Not so fast, kitty,” Michael whispered in her ear, his colossal hands landing on her hips. The lamp crashed on the floor, the crystal beads of glass scattering over the emerald green carpet like morning dew. 

She cried out and tried to push Tom away, pressing her small hands against his chest, but he did not even flinch. He laced his fingers around her slender wrists, and for a second, she thought he was going to break her bones. 

“You are so pretty,” Riddle cooed, tracing the pads of his fingers along her features almost lovingly, ignoring the way she scrunched up her nose at his caresses. His eyes lingered over her face and stopped at her parted lips; he slid his thumb along them. Riddle smirked. “Too bad such a beautiful doll face has no brains,” and with those words, he blew some blue powder in her face.

She did not even have time to process what was going on before a thick blanket of mist clouded her vision. Her eyesight blurred, everything became fuzzy, floating before her. Then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was swimming through a space filled with a thick static. 

It was the beginning of the end. 

xxx

Slap!

She winced at the harsh tap on her cheek and the pounding headache in her temples. Slowly, as if at any given second her head could explode, she opened her left eye, and then the right one. Everything was unfocused, although she was hyper-away of the fact that there was a wooden surface of the polished floor in front of her face, her left cheek was resting against it. No wonder every muscle of her body was sore and felt as if she had been beaten up for hours — her wrists were tied behind her back, arms bent outward at the most uncomfortable angle, and when she tried to move them, a hot wave of piercing pain shattered her body. 

Slap!

Another tap and she let out a muffled moan. Her throat was dry as The Sahara —  she gulped heavily and licked her chapped lips.

“That’s enough, Bella,” she closed her eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. So it was not a nightmare — they had kidnaped her. “She’s with us.”

A desperate yelp fell from her lips, when someone’s strong hand gripped at the roots of her hair and forced her upper body up from the floor, forcing her to kneel. Her heavy-lidded eyes flew open and she faced a pair of expensive leather shoes and the bare feet of the house elf before her. She traced her eyes higher up the black slacks and the bony, slender frame of a creature that must have been responsible for slapping her. The elf looked angry, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at Y/N. Bella looked as if she was ready to rip Y/N’s throat out at any given second if the girl attempted to attack any of her masters. 

“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” Michael placed his long fingers under her chin and used his index and thumb to get a strong grip on it. He carefully examined her face. “You gave her too much of that powder, Tom.” Langdon noted critically, tilting her head to the side and pursing his lips disapprovingly at her puffy features. “She shouldn’t be so swollen.” 

He looked over his shoulder and she followed his gaze. Riddle was sitting cross-legged on a big velvet armchair, his pale, aristocratic hands resting atop wooden armrests. He pensively rubbed his pointy chin and shrugged.

“It’s the last thing that bothers me. As long as she‘s more appeasable than her father, she shouldn’t have any problems.”

Her whole body bolted up at the mentioning of her dad. 

“What did you do to him?” Her hoarse voice roared through the room. It sounded so foreign and raspy that she could barely recognize herself. The elf hissed at her threateningly, but she ignored it. Michael was looking down upon her, a faint smirk ghosting over his plump lips.

“The old man was so sensitive. Couldn’t handle even two minutes of the charming effect of Cruciatus. By the way, he was right at this spot where you are now.” He flashed his perfect teeth at her. 

She could not understand what they were talking about. She had been receiving letters from her family every three days. Y/N pressed her lips together.

“If you think that I’ll buy another lie, you fucker...” She spat out and earned one more slap across her reddening cheek. 

“Bella, stop,” Langdon rolled his eyes at the elf who did not understand why her Master was so forgiving of the girl’s rudeness. She glanced at him with her big eyes that looked like two baseballs.

“Bella can’t let this filthy girl talk about Master and his friend like that,” she frowned, curling her fingers into tight, little fists.

Langdon hummed and traced his the pads of his fingers over Y/N’s face, barely touching her.

“She’s not filthy, my darling,” he told the elf, and Y/N tried to shy away from his featherlight touch. “She comes from a pure-blood family where there have never been any encounters with muggles. She’s a pure lily-white to some extent,” he muttered.

Y/N did not know how he had known anything about her family. She was a pure-blood witch indeed and knew her family tree by heart because it used to hang next to the crest in the living room of her parents’ mansion where she had grown up. Her father was a famous wandmaker, always competing with a half-blood family of the Ollivanders, the owners of the well-known store located in Diagon Alley. He had a penchant for studying the psychological aspect of wanders, how they chose wizards and the way the core of them resonated with the personalities of their owners. He believed that the wands had souls. 

“What happened to my father?” She barked, the slimy hand of fear grasping around her spine. “I received letters from mom, she said everything was fine,” tears tingled in the corners of her eyes.

Tom chuckled, clearly finding her naive nature amusing.

“Your honorable mother writes whatever she’s told,” he explained, “under Confundus. It does wonders to those unwilling to compromise,” as Tom spoke, he was examining his perfectly trimmed nails with a bored look on his face. “As for your father, we needed some information only he could provide us with, but he refused to share it, so...” he smiled carnivorously, “he’s at St. Mungo’s recovering from his visit.”

His words knocked the bottom out of her made-up self-control. Her howl that ranged through the room made the blood of everyone present in the room run cold. A scream of hysteria and disbelief. She wriggled her back trying to get rid of the ropes, but it was impossible — she ended up beating her body against the floor like a fish that needed oxygen. She cried as if her brain was shredded from the inside, the emotional pain of realization that Langdon and Riddle had tortured her father flowed out of her every pore. The living room turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. She could only hear the blood drumming in her ears. Tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. Her throat burnt, forming a scream, her breath got heavier, as she fell on the floor and rolled over on her side. It felt like a part of her was dying inside.

“Oh, c’mon,” Michael scoffed at her lying before him. Y/N looked so helpless that it was getting on his nerves. He stepped aside, afraid that her tears could stain his shoes. “He’s doing alright. Besides, you can help him if you behave and do as you are told.”

Langdon waited till she stopped crying. The girl stared blankly at the wooden surface, letting out small hiccups from time to time. Tom sighed and covered his face with the palm, already regretting having messed with her. A fucking cry baby was on their hands. 

“You’re monsters,” she finally whispered and closed her eyes. “I’m gonna kill you and make sure that your death won’t be easy.”

“Sounds like a promise,” Michael mused, “and a good start for the negotiations.”

The next moment she found herself sitting on a chair, hands still tired securely. She looked over the shoulder and noticed that the ropes were glowing. No way she could untie them. She bowed her head lowly, admitting her defeat.

“Don’t be so pouty,” Tom said in a mocking tone, “you’re going to benefit from our deal, too.”

She snapped her head at him.

“I’d rather fucking die.”

Michael tsked.

“It would be such a waste of the precious blood of yours,” he clicked his tongue, crossing his hands against his chest, the fabric of his cape tightening around his strong arms. “You need to practice more self-love. In that case, you won’t be willing to die every five seconds.” His deep tone vibrated with a silvery clang of veiled satire.

“If you continue with this stupid sarcasm,” she sneered, “I’m going to smash my head against the floor and die like that.”

“That’s not an appealing way to die.”

“Better than listening to you.”

“That’s enough!” Tom interfered and stoop up to his feet. The sound of his boots echoed through the room, as he approached her and Michael. He bent over at the waist to the same level with her face. “You are much better when the only sound leaving that pretty mouth of your is your pleas to be fucked harder.”

Her cheeks turned bright red and she could not find anything to contradict with, which made Riddle extremely satisfied with himself. He straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“You have no idea how similar you are to us. You can tell yourself all you want that we are monsters because, perhaps, to some extent we are,” he smirked, “but everything we do is for the bright future ahead of us. The world without mud-bloods, muggles, and other rubbish. And you,” he slid his thumb along her bottom lip bruised from biting, “are not a saint you try to portrait yourself to be. Forgive me, angel, but I don’t remember you helping the students when the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts. Where were you, a noble Prefect of Slytherin?”

She gulped.

“I...” Y/N started, but Tom did not need her remarks. He raised his hand, forcing her to shut up.

“You were saving your ass,” he said nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather. “You are selfish and cowardly, but that’s what makes you a human being. Save the puny bravery for Gryffindor. Those fools never miss the opportunity to get into a fight without even thinking of the consequences...”

“Don’t make my fear of getting killed equivalent to the horror you and Michael are responsible for.” She interrupted him.

Tom’s nostrils flared. She looked at him with wide eyes, when he brutally grabbed her by the chin and made her look up at him.

“Next time you interrupt me, I’m going to cut your tongue off, am I being clear?” He had waited for her to nod before he let go off his grip.

“They are fighting and losing their people when they could join us and help us built something greater,” Tom raised his hands as if he was showing her the scope of his ambitions. “We’ve been oppressed by muggles for centuries, and it’s time to end it. We’ll annihilate everyone...”

“That’s where there’s mischief or the deity of things — nothing can be entirely annihilated; — not even a thought.” She murmured loud enough for Riddle to hear. 

Michael sighed.

“Crucio”

A shot of blinding pain went through her body and made her choke on her scream. It felt like hundreds of needles were stuck under her nails and her skin got ripped off at the same time. It subsided as quickly as it had started when Michael pointed his wand in a different direction, leaving her breathless. 

“Much better,” Riddle said, nodding approvingly at her fucked out state. “Where we were? Ah yes, the annihilation. Here’s the thing. To build the new word, you have to destroy the regular order of things. Those who choose to join us are very welcomed because they are going to be the ones building up the new life based on my and Michael’s commands. Human beings are very easy to manipulate, my dear. You will learn it soon enough. Our society has created a system that shapes every single one of us since the day we are born. It gives us our name, believes and determines the role we are going to play. A man in his origin is a blank canvas, nobody, who will be shaped in whatever form we want them to be,” his dark eyes sparkled mischievously. 

She could only imagine the destruction they wanted to bring into the world. 

“Has your father ever told you about the Elder Wand?” Michael asked, slowly circling her chair. She shivered when he brushed his hand over her tense shoulders. 

“The one from the fairy tale?” She asked, her eyebrows frowned. 

“Yes, the one originally owned by Antioch Peverell, a loyal subject of Death. The most powerful wand that has ever existed,” notes of anticipation threaded into Langdon’s voice. His boyish features illuminated with excitement as soon as he mentioned the wand.

“You are talking about it as if it’s real,” Y/N responded timidly. The last time she had heard anything about the Peverell brothers was when she was seven. 

“It exists,” Riddle said gloomily, “and your father confirmed it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t said much before he lost his mind.”

A new wave of boiling anger raised within her. She tried to get her wrists free by rocking on the chair back and forth but failed. Her only desire was to punch Tom in his handsome face.

“And what do you want from me?” 

Michael came closer and put his hand on her shoulder, holding her in place, his fingers dipping into the hollows of her collarbones firmly. 

“Any information about it, the access to your father’s archives,” his blue eyes were drilling into her soul, “they are charmed and we can’t break into them. We need to know the possible location of the wand or its current owner.”

She was looking at them in disbelief. Two the most powerful wizards she had ever come across, really indulged in the idea of finding the wand from a fairy tale. She nervously licked her lips.

“I don’t know anything about it,” she started slowly, “Dad never talked about it and...”

Tom let out a frustrating groan. He was so tired of hearing the same damn thing from every captive. He hid his face in his palms and took a deep breath.

“Fucking cru—...”

“No! Please, don’t!” She yelled at him and squeezed her eyes tightly, waiting for a new wave of agony wash over her body, but it did not follow. She opened her right eye and saw Tom pointing his wand at her. 

“Name one reason why I shouldn’t help you join your father at St. Mungo’s right now,” he hissed.

Y/N sobbed and only then noticed that she was crying again. 

“If I give you access to my father’s archives, will you promise that you’ll leave me and my family alone?” She asked, her voice breaking. The voice in her head kept telling her to shut up, but she tucked it away. “That’s the only thing I need. Do whatever you want, but promise that in the anarchy you two will create, my family and I will survive.”

A defeating silence followed her question. She felt weak and defeated. Maybe they were right and she only cared about herself indeed? But who could blame her for that? Dumbledore was right about upcoming dark times and having seen Tom and Michael in flesh, as powerful as they were, she realized that it was time to make a choice. The choice every wizard would face soon enough. She had never wanted to be a hero and if there was a small chance for her and her family to survive. She would do anything for it, even if it meant making a deal with Satan.

“Seems like there’s an ounce of common sense in you indeed,” Tom finally mused. When he raised his wand again, she expected him to torture her, but he only flicked his wrist and untied her ropes. They fell helplessly on the floor like two coiled snakes. She lifted her eyes at him. 

“Tomorrow we will make the Unbreakable vow in front of our followers. We will grant you a chance to live, but if you break any of your promises, you will die. You have time till dawn to think it all over.”

It was all he said to her. 

xxx

Sitting in a huge bathtub filled with scented foam and oils the house elf had added for her, she was thinking if it was possible to drown in there or Michael and Tom would come and save her because they needed her for their plan. She leaned her head against the marble edge of the tub and closed her eyes. At least she had bought some time till morning, but she still had no idea what to do. On the way to her bedroom that Tom and Michael had prepared for her, she managed to take a glance at their mansion. It looked impressive. There must have been more than one elf because taking care of all those carpets, shiny polished furniture and jacquard curtains that framed big windows required a lot of time and effort. She doubted that Michael and Tom had neighbors, so she eliminated the attempt to scream and cry for help from her list.

What if she tricked him into believing that she was supporting their ideas and then found some floo powder and used in the fireplace she had noticed in the living room? She could let Dumbledore or Snape know what had happened to her. But Tom and Michael were masters of Occlumency. There was no way they would not control her mind. She sighed heavily. Y/N was too tired and drained out to think of any plan. She looked at her palms under pink foam and stroke the water with such anger that it got splashed overboard. 

Fucking assholes.

She froze to the spot at the sudden sound of Riddle’s and Langdon’s voices behind the door. 

“I don’t think she will mind,” and the next moment two men brazenly ruined her fragile peace. 

They had got changed into more comfortable clothes, yet still managed to look implacable. A loose fit grey t-shirt was hanging off Michael’s collarbones contrasting with the icy blue flames in his eyes. There was a wide grin on his face when he entered the bathroom, he looked so young that if Y/N had not known what he was actually like, he would’ve tricked her into believing that he was a real-life angel. He shoved his hands into the pockets of linen trousers he was wearing and closed the door with a push of his hips. 

Tom did not even bother to throw a shirt on. He leaned against the sink with his hands crossed against his smooth chest. His pants were hanging lowly on his naval, exposing the deep V of his muscles. Y/N nervously tried to cover her nudity with foam, hoping that they had not caught the glimpse of her pink, perky nipples, poking through the white and pink clouds of bubbles.

“Get the fuck out of here!” She exclaimed angrily, sinking deeper into the water, leaving only her head above the surface. 

Michael rolled his eyes.

“No, not happening,” he said and bent over to sink the tips of his fingers into the water, checking the temperature. 

She gasped at their audacity and demanded the explanation.

“What are you doing here?”

She could feel the blush creep over her cheeks at the heavy-lidded look of Tom’s dark eyes; for some reason, it seemed like he could see her through the water and foam mixed together, and she felt extremely embarrassed by it. She brushed her fingers through her hair, trying to cover her breasts with it. 

“We decided to come help you with your decision,” Riddle said, licking his lips. 

Y/N shot a sidelong glance at Michael who nodded in response and hooked his fingers under the waistband if the pants. She did not have to think twice to understand what he was up to.

“Don’t you dare!” She protested, instinctively pressing her back against the bathtub. She looked over her shoulder and nervously bit her bottom lip, thinking if she could slide to the side and thus get away from Michael, but the tub did not have much space. Langdon rolled his pants down his long legs and quickly stepped out of them, revealing himself in his full glory before her. 

“Oh, my God,” she whined and tried to look away. “Put them back on for fuck’s sake!” Y/N pleaded, feeling the panic rise within her. She tried her best not to share at the impressive length of his half-hard cock hanging heavily between his parted thighs. It looked just as she had remembered it — long and thick with a pink, shiny head and a prominent vein on the underside. Okay, she did not see the vein this time, she just remembered it from the Chamber of Secrets, how it had felt against her wet, velvet tongue.

The cheeky grin ghosting over Michael’s plump lips was a sign of him being perfectly aware of the effect his naked form had on Y/N.

“Move,” he beaconed his fingers at her, and she shook her head. 

“What?” Y/N’s question came off in a more high-pitched tone that she had intended, “No! Don’t you even think...”

“You need to be more appreciative of the fact that we have saved your life,” Tom said, and she wondered if he would join too. God forbid. So far, he was still standing against the sink, watching Michael and her. 

“You are the ones who have put it in danger,” she reminded, eyeing Langdon suspiciously. He put his one leg over the edge of the bathtub, forming the ripples in the water. 

“Then you understand how fragile your position is.” 

Arguing with them was pointless, but it did not mean that she would give up so easily. She curled her fingers into fists and brought them against her chest when Michael fully got into the tub and headed toward her.

“Stay where you are,” she warned. He approached her, his broad chest covered in transparent beads of water; he dipped his head into the water, his blonde hair getting a shade or two darker. 

“Or what?” He scoffed and extended his hand to her. It took him a couple of seconds to wrap his fingers of his one hand around her wrists and hold her in place. She looked at him in fear, but he only tilted his head to the side, his whole look asking “So what now? Go ahead and try me.” Michael used the time of her confusion to push his body off the bottom and press himself against her.  

“Michael, please, don’t,” she begged, calling him by his name. Langdon’s cock twitched at the sound of his name falling from her lips, and he maneuvered both of them so he positioned himself behind her, holding her closely against his chest, her hands still in his firm grip. 

Tom leaned forward, putting his hands on the edge of the tub, his muscular arms flexing at the weight of his body; the black strand of his hair fell into his face.

“C’mon, kitty,” he cooed, “didn’t you miss our time together?”

She arched her back and whined helplessly, trying to get away from Michael’s steel grasp. She wriggled her shoulders, but he wrapped his arm around her waist, pinning her to the spot. She could feel his erection pressed between their bodies and the way his chest was rising and falling within steady breathing. 

“Did you sleep with anyone else after that?” Langdon whispered in her ear, grazing his teeth over the earlobe, his breath fanning over the sensitive spot. He nipped on the soft skin and then moved his lips to her neck, peppering it with sweet, teasing kisses. She rolled her head to the side in an attempt to prevent his manipulations.

“I’ve been trying to forget that experience like a nightmare.” She managed to mumble. He laid his hand on her stomach, slowly stroking it, his fingers dangerously close to her pubic bone. Michael used his thigh to spread her legs and make her straddle him, a position she was so used to. 

“Hmmm, to forget?” He mused, massaging her tummy lazily, getting dangerously close to her womanhood with each circle. Langdon cupped her left breast in his free hand and rather harshly squeezed it, moving his fingers to her pink, soapy nipple to give it a pinch. 

“We’ve seen every darkest corner of your mind,” Tom reminded her and stroke her cheek painted in scarlet hues of blush. “You loved the feeling of our cocks inside of you, didn’t you? The fullness? The way we moved together in your tight little holes that were begging to be ponded,” as he spoke his pupils were blown wide, turning his eyes into dark abysses; his voice dropping a few octaves lower, vibrating through her bones. By the way he licked his lips and brought his face so close to hers, she knew he was getting off to the filth that was coming out of his mouth. 

“Stop, just stop it,” she whined and kicked Michael with her elbow, earning a disapproving groan from him.

Immediately, Langdon’s hand flew to her neck and wrapped around it securely, his thumb pressing right on the pulsing point of her sinew. She gasped in shock and reached for the edge of the bathtub, scratching her nails against the fine marble.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” she gripped onto his arm, but it only made him more aroused. He rubbed the tip of his nose against the nape of her neck and then moved lower to where her neck connected with her shoulder to bite the sweet spot, sinking his teeth into the warm flesh. 

“She’s so cute when she’s trying to resist us,” Tom chuckled, sliding his hand over his bare torso down to his tense stomach, and then to the prominent bulge in his pants. He pumped his throbbing erection through the fabric without taking his eyes off of Michael who was toying with Y/N’s nipples. Having made sure that she was not moving, Langdon put both of his hands on her waist and raised her a little, so her breasts would appear on the same level with his lips. He attached his mouth to the hardening bud and sucked on it, circling his tongue around her flesh with a wet, ringing sound. 

“I know,” he smirked against her mounds and playfully jiggled them in his palms, brushing his thumbs over the swollen nipples. He squeezed them and then let them go, clearly being amused by the way her tits bounced in front of his face. “Trying to fool us into believing that she’s not a little slut who craves being double penetrated, isn’t it so, angel?” He wondered, cocking his eyebrow at the nearly crying girl in his arms. They were doing it again. Mocking her. She sobbed, realizing that there was no escape, and dropped her hands, sinking them into the water and resting her palms on her spread thighs. She threw her head back on Michael’s shoulder and looked up at him tiredly.

“Just be a bit more gentle,” she whispered, barely moving her lips. His hands roamed over her body, contouring her sides and the curve of her silhouette. He groped her ass and parted her cheeks, stealing her breath away.

“We can’t promise it, sweetheart,” he winked at her and brushed the side of his palm over her crease, touching her most intimate parts. 

She had to put her hands in front of her for leverage when Michael’s hand cupped her crotch, his long, skillful fingers digging into her folds. He pressed the heel of his palm to her center, mere inches away from her clit, electing a moan that mostly resembled a muffled gasp from her. Y/N turned her head at Tom, as she heard the sound of him undoing his zipper, and her mouth involuntarily fell agape at the sight of him. He wrapped his veiny hand around the impressive length and gave it a few tugs at the base, his fist meeting the neatly trimmed pubic hair. The sloppy sound that his hand was making mixed with the splashing of the water, as Michael started moving the V of his fingers up and down Y/N’s pussy, was filling the room. 

The fact that they were in the tub made it a bit difficult for Langdon to understand if she was wet or not, but as he worked his digits faster, each time grazing her clit, he felt the beads of her juices collecting around his knuckles — consistency of her liquids was thicker than water. He swirled the tips of his fingers around her entrance and rubbed the arousal into her clit with tight, circling motions. She moaned and shifted on his thigh, instinctively wanting more.

“One thing that we’ve learned about you for sure,” Michael mewled, sliding his index inside of her tight heat, “is that you are submissive as fuck,” and just to emphasize his words he added another finger, stretching her walls out. She clenched around his digits, but he scissored them on purpose as a sign that he would still do as he pleased. 

Tom’s hand found its way in her hair as he grabbed a fistful of it and pulled her toward him, her roots stinging at the piercing pain. Working his palm up and down his length, pausing at the slit to smear pearly precum all over the head, he crushed his lips against hers, his tongue possessively pushing on her bottom lip. She parted her mouth for him, and he let his hand, tangled in her wet locks, cup her cheek. Riddle wrapped his plush lips around the tip of her tongue and sucked on it, making her moan into the kiss. 

She had to cling onto his shoulders when Michael’s fingers suddenly left her aching core. Tom was the one to break the kiss. She was panting heavily, as he pressed their foreheads together. Her eyes fluttered, lashes casting long shadows over her cheekbones when she looked down at his cock resting heavily against his abdomen. Riddle noticed her stare. 

“Yes, Michael,” he grinned, his fingers stroking the blue, pulsing vein on the underside of his dick. “Give her what she wants.”

Langdon slid inside of her with ease and a low throaty groan, some water got splashed into the floor, but none of them cared. She could feel every inch of his delicious length and the head of it protruding its way into her quivering heat. The lack of lubrication, because of the soapy water,r made it harder for him to penetrate her with one thrust like he had wanted to do it. She winced at the burning stretch but did not ask him to stop. 

“Just like that,” Tom praised, his fingers squishing her face and making her look up at him. “Take it, little slut. Take it all.” He smiled carnivorously, wiping the salty tears off of her cheeks. 

“Oh, God,” she cried out when Michael, who had got tired of the slow pace, nestled his hands on her sides and forced her down on his length, making her sit fully on his cock. She heard the obscene “slap” of his balls against her ass cheeks.  

“Fuck,” Langdon cussed behind her, throwing his head back. “Still the tightest kitty I’ve ever fucked.”

Her pussy clenched at the compliment, and she mentally slapped herself across the face for having reacted to his praise. She wanted to lean back against his chest, but Tom was holding her. He shifted forward and bent down on one knee.

“Bend her over a bit more for me,” he instructed Langdon who pressed his palm to her lower back, helping her position herself before Tom; her face appeared inches away from his cock. She lifted his gaze at him, and if it had not been for his self-control, he would have cum at the sight of her. Michael adjusted himself, too — he was standing behind her on his knees, his cock buried deep inside of her. He smoothed the foam all over her butt and gave the meaty flesh a couple of loud smacks. 

“Come here, have a taste,” Tom called her and guided his cock to her lips. He ran the tip of it over her mouth, contouring the plump shape of her cherry lips, and for a second it seemed like he was going to be gentle with her. But as soon as the head of his flesh met the velvet of her mouth, he thrust his hips forward, hitting the back of her throat. Y/N did not expect that and ended up recoiling from him thus skewering herself onto Michael’s dick. She cried out with a mouthful of cock and placed her hands on Tom’s thighs in an attempt to push him away. It was almost impossible to concentrate. Not when Riddle was holding her firmly and Langdon pounding her so perfectly that each time the head of his cock brushed against all the right spots, making the knot in the pit of her stomach tighten. 

He let her pull away just for a moment to recollect herself and get her breath steady, but then he threaded his fingers through her hair and wrapped it around his fist. This time she was more prepared and started breathing through her nose, hollowing he cheeks around his shaft. She laid her tongue flatly and let him slide the length along with rapid, brutal thrusts. She did not know how they were doing it, but Tom and Michael managed to work in sync — as Langdon was taking her from behind, the Slytherin Heir was using her mouth. She could feel the slightly bitter taste of him. Tears were streaming down her face, the air filled with the smell of sex and strawberry foam filled her nostrils. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” Tom murmured, squeezing his eyes when she swirled her tongue around the head and stroke the rest of the length with her hand. He snapped his hips and forced her to stay still, making her gag on him. The muscles of his stomach tensed at the sound of her struggling to take a breath, and he tightened his grip, feeling the way her throat convulsed around him. She was drooling all over herself, and Michael hovered over her back, to reach for her breasts and smear the liquid all over them.

She gasped when Tom let go off of her hair. Her eyes were red, lips bright pink and swollen, wet hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. Her body was jolting toward Riddle each time Michael’s dick penetrated her. She let out a low moan, her voice sounded hoarse and raspy when Langdon pulled his cock out of her completely and then shoved only the tip inside. He did it a couple of times with the most vulgar sound. 

“Look at me,” Riddle demanded. By the hazy look in his eyes and the erratic movements of his hand, she knew he was close. Tears welling up in her eyes made everything look blurry. The ripples of pleasure piercing her body also made her feel weak and pliant, leaving her all worked up and needy. In the state of pure euphoria, she could admit that she loved the way Michael was taking her on all fours. “Stick your tongue out.”

She obeyed and darted her tongue out at the command, giving Tom her best doe-like look. 

“Fuck I’m so close,” she heard Langdon’s ramblings, and her tummy fluttered in anticipation. “Go ahead, kitty, work that pussy for me,” he smacked her. “Clench that little hole.”

Right at that moment, with a low growl, Tom came all over her tongue. The white stripes of his cum painted it like pearly ribbons, staining her lips and chin. He looked ethereal with his mouth formed into a perfect “o”, dark eyes sparkling with lust. His broad chest was rising and falling rapidly as he was coming down from his high. The salty taste of his milk and the whole scene, in general, sent her over the edge too. Y/N clenched her pussy around Michael so tightly, that he had to dig his nails into the flesh of her hips from how good it felt. A string of “fuckshitiamcumming” accompanied his last thrusts, and she whimpered at the throbbing between her thighs as Langdon’s cock erupted with his hot, sticky seed and filled her up to the brim. The coil in the pit of her stomach snapped, and the earth-shattering wave of pleasure flooded all her senses. Her arms gave up, and she would have nearly dropped her head in the water if Tom had not caught her. 

For a while, it was only their erratic breathing and tired limps intertwined together. She was standing there with her ass still up and pussy covered with Michael’s cum on full display for him, when she slowly started realizing what had just happened. She turned her head over the shoulder to meet the blissful expression on Langdon’s face. He licked his dry lips and ran his fingers through the damp hair, putting the disheveled strands of blonde locks in place. 

“Tomorrow,” he cleared his throat, “at the meeting with the Death Eaters you shall not say a word to them even if they address you, understood?” He rather clumsily rose to his feet, letting the mix of foam and water run down his lean body. He waited for her to nod and then looked at Tom.

“Give it to her.”

She did not know what he had meant until Tom scooped Michael’s pants from the floor and snaked his hand into the pockets. Langdon reached out for one of the fluffy towels folded neatly by the sink and wrapped it around his hips. Y/N watched him step out of the tub and join Tom. Two of them were facing her like the snakes from her dreams. Riddle fished a small black box out and quickly opened it, reveling to the dim light of the room a silver bracelet in the shape of the serpent. 

“Don’t ever take this off,” he told her and made a gesture with his index and forefingers to give him her hand. She did not have the strength to hold his palm, so she just let him put the fine piece around her wrist.

“What’s it for?” She whispered, feeling the warmth radiating from the snake.

“Something for you to wear until you get the dark mark.”

*In Harry Potter universe the underage magic is considered as any magic used by a wizard or witch who is under seventeen years of age outside of school, but in this series, it’s required to pass an exam first. 

Taglist: (my regular taglist + those who expressed their interest in reading part two): @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @ccodyfern @sammythankyou @kaigitana @ms-mead @sebastianshoe @langdonsdemon @starwlkers @iloveziggystardust @chaoticevillangdon @sojournmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @rocketgirl2410 @theghostoflangdon @americanhorrorstudies @bbyduncan @nightsblackroses @langdvnshepherd @ccodyferns @isoldedax @omgsuperstarg @1-800-bitchcraft @wroteclassicaly @ticklish-leafy-plant @elena-75s-blog @peachesandfern @your-daddy-langdon @hexqueensupreme @icylangdon @littledemondani @hecohansen31 @mega-combusken

[your-everyday-fic-writer]

A New Beginning

Part of the Black Lake Series

Pairings: Charlie Weasley x Jacob’s Sibling

Summary: Leaving Hogwarts to start a new life seems hard, but what about the beginning of that new life?

Word Count: 2, 500

Warnings: An argument between parents and children. Kinda cringy?

A/N: I never realized how inconsistent the details of some of my early stories are with some of my later stories. Probably cause I’ve written them out of order. Also, does past me know that I don’t always have to say ‘wrapped in a hug’? I also realized that I said there’d only be one, maybe two more chapters but um...it’ll be more than that. Also, this is VERY IMPORTANT, I forgot all about Barnabae but I’m way too lazy to go back and add him back in, so sorry Barnaby fans.

The Masterlist for the Black Lake series can be found here.

The complete Masterlist can be found here.

You took one last look at Hogwarts. It seemed so far away from the train platform. In fact, it seemed like an entirely different world. One where things weren’t as complicated, where parents didn’t get to tell you what to do, where you were free to do whatever you pleased with whoever you pleased. You turned away from the castle, trying not to dwell on the happy memories, knowing they would only make you upset.

Your friends were split up between two train compartments, but you all had your heads stuck out the windows, waving goodbye to Hagrid and several of the professors who had shown up to say goodbye. Hagrid stopped at each compartment, saying goodbye to as many students as he could. Professor Trelawney and Madam Pomfrey stood together, waving goodbye to the students and having a conversation on their predicted futures. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stood near the back of the platform, holding a conversation that obviously wasn’t meant to be shared with anyone but each other.

The train began to move, and the shouts got louder as the students got further. You looked over to Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. Both of them saw you, and Dumbledore gave a stoic wave and a slight nod, while McGonagall simply shot you a look as if to say “stay out of trouble, Y/N.” You smiled back at them as if to say “thank you, and I will!”

The train picked up speed, and soon, you couldn’t see your professors anymore. You sat back down in your seat, and let out a loud sigh.

“I’m going to miss Hogwarts.” Penny said, staring wistfully out of the window.

“I think we all will,” Ben chimed in, “I mean, even though those were some of my most fearful years to date, I’ll still miss it.”

“We’re leaving so many memories behind. It feels wrong,” You said, “I mean, that’s where we all met. We broke curses there. Without the things that we did, I don’t think I’d be the person I am today.”

“Well, I guess you’ll all just have to come and visit me when I become Hogwarts’ youngest professor.” Rowan said.

Everyone in the compartment let out a slight laugh, and eagerly began talking about their own futures and plans they had to meet back at Hogwarts.

You thought about your own future. All of your friends had their own upcoming careers, and you couldn’t wait to begin your own. You knew that finding a job in Romania would be difficult, but when you found out that you could train to be a healer, something you had always wanted to do, you were ecstatic. Considering how often you had had to heal your friends after an adventure gone wrong, you were basically already a pro.

You were excited for Romania, despite any doubts you may have had. There was a life waiting for you there, one that you were ready to begin.

You and your friends talked the whole way back to London. You were all excited about your futures but sad to say goodbye to Hogwarts. When you finally arrived and had to say goodbye, it was tearful, to say the least. No one wanted this to be the end of your journey together. But, there were no more curses to break, no more vaults to open. Really, there was nothing left for you or your friends to discover at Hogwarts. That was something that someone else would have to do now.

“I’ll miss you so much, Y/N.” Rowan said as they hugged you.

“I can’t believe I’m saying goodbye to my first friend from Hogwarts.” You said, hugging them back.

“It’s not goodbye. We’ll see each other again, I just know it.”

You nodded, pulling away from the hug with Rowan and moving towards Penny. She immediately pulled you into a warm hug.

“Oh, Y/N,” She said, “Good luck. Not that you need it, but just in case.”

“Thanks, Penny. I’ll take all the luck I can get,” You said, returning the hug, “And good luck with you. Although, I’m sure you also really don’t need it.”

Penny let go of the hug, wiping at her sniffling nose, “Don’t forget to write me about the wedding.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You said, feeling yourself about to cry with her, “I’ll make sure you’re one of the first I write.”

“Oh, look at me! What a mess I am!” Penny dabbed at her tears with the sleeves of her sweater, ���I hate to cut the goodbyes short, but you’ll have to excuse me.”

She scampered through the crowds, waving goodbye while doing so. The rest of your friends said goodbye to each other and you couldn’t help but watch the scene. Tulip and Tonks were discussing the last prank they had pulled, giddily laughing over the many headaches it had likely caused Madam Pince. Liz and Talbott were having a conversation about the magical animal reserve they were both about to begin working on. Andre was explaining the latest fashion trends of the Wizarding World for Jae so that he would be able to update his stock while Ben, Jae and Badeea quietly listened in. Everything seemed so perfectly right that yo

“Ready to go?” Charlie asked.

“I’m not sure I want to yet,” you said, “I’m going to miss everyone so much.”

“Me too.” Charlie said, “We can stay if you want.”

You shook your head with a slight laugh, “No. We better go before I decide I never want to leave.”

Hand-in-hand with Charlie, you moved through the crowd. The station was packed full of people and you could barely move. Charlie weaved through the crowd and you followed. You weren’t sure how he could tell where he was going, but it was obvious he was moving with purpose. You could tell Charlie was moving as far from the crowd as possible, towards Molly and Arthur, who were eagerly waiting near the back of the platform.

“Charlie! Y/N!” Molly called out as you and Charlie approached them, “Oh, look at you two! I can’t believe one of my children is already getting married!”

She hugged Charlie, then gave you the same, tight hug.

“Hi, mum.” Charlie greeted her, his greeting far more quiet than Molly’s.

“Hello, Molly,” You said to her. You scanned the station, looking for someone who obviously wasn’t there, “Have you seen Jacob? He told me he’d be here.”

“He said he wanted to wait for you by the car, away from the hustle and bustle in here.” Molly explained, “Why don’t you go find him? Charlie can help me with the luggage.”

You nodded, eagerly making your way out of the crowded train station. You scanned the parking lot, looking around for Jacob. When you couldn’t find him, you began to worry. Finally, though, you saw him waiting beside the black car he had ‘borrowed’ from your parents when he had taken you to school several months ago.

“Jacob!” You exclaimed, quickly making your way towards him.

“Y/N!” He called back.

You ran towards him and he opened his arms, ready to hug you. You nearly jumped into them, it was so exciting to finally see him again.

Jacob broke the hug, holding you at arms length, “Let me look at you. I can hardly believe you’re the same person I dropped off in September!”

“It’s only been a few months! I couldn’t possibly have changed that much.” You laughed.

“But you’re so grown up now,” He said, “You’re getting married! I can’t believe it! My little sibling’s all grown up and getting married.”

You smiled, “I don’t feel grown up. I still feel like I’m just waiting another summer before I go back to Hogwarts with Charlie and all of my friends.”

“Speaking of; where is Charlie?”

“He’ll be here in a moment, I’m sure. Why? Are you afraid he’s run away before the wedding?” You said, your smirk evident in your sarcastic tone.

“We need to be quick.” He explained, “I don’t want to be here if mother and father decide to show up.”

It had been decided before that you would go and stay with Jacob for the time being. Since he had successfully disappeared from your parents, you wanted to stay with him, at least until you knew your parents hadn’t found you and stopped looking or until you could leave for Romania. As badly as you felt, you knew that staying away was the best thing you could do. Your parents were relentless in deciding your future, and you wouldn’t let them stop you. You couldn’t.

From across the lot, you could see Charlie and Arthur carrying several suitcases, Molly hot on their heels. You waved over at him and he made his way towards you, while Molly and Arthur walked towards their own car.

“Charlie, good to see you again.” Jacob said as Charlie approached the car. Jacob opened the trunk, taking some of the suitcases from Charlie, “Here, I’ve got these. Why don’t you two say your goodbyes?”

Jacob turned away from you two, pretending not to listen. Charlie leaned against the car, arms folded across his chest, “You could just come to the Burrow now. You and Jacob both could.”

“Oh, Charlie,” You giggled, putting your arms around Charlie’s neck, “Don’t be so pouty. I’ll be with you at the Burrow before you know it.”

“I’m not pouty,” Charlie said, “I just wish you could stay with me.”

“Well, once we’re in Romania, we can get married and then we’ll be together all the time.”

Charlie kissed the tip of your nose, “I can’t wait.”

You and Charlie had already talked about your wedding, and had finished most of the planning for it. It wasn’t going to be anything big, probably just a few friends and family at a small ceremony. Neither of you wanted anything more than that. You knew that Charlie probably didn’t care about anything, not even getting married, as long as he got to be with you. You couldn’t wait to become a Weasley and to get to be with Charlie forever. You were so excited for your future, the one you would get to share with Charlie.

Jacob quickly loaded the last of your luggage into the trunk of the car. Charlie kissed the tip of your nose again, causing you to giggle.

“Alright, lovebirds. Time to break it up.” Jacob said, slamming the trunk shut, “Charlie, you should get going if you want to be back at the Burrow before dark.”

Charlie sighed, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure my parents will want to go.” Charlie kissed you, his kiss lingering longer than usual, “I love you.”

“Don’t be so sad,” You said, with a slight laugh as you took your arms from around his neck, “We won’t be apart long. I lo-”

“Y/N!” Someone angrily shouted your name, breaking the bliss between you and Charlie, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Mother. Father.” Jacob coldly greeted your parents.

“Jacob.” Your mother returned the cold greeting. She looked all three of you up and down, “Must I repeat myself? What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going with Jacob.” You said.

“No, you’re not. You’re coming with us. Do you not remember what we said in our letter? A marriage to a Weasley hardly acceptable.” Your mother scoffed, shooting Charlie a quick but disapproving look.

“It’s not your future to decide, mother.” Jacob said, his voice stern and annoyed.

“Don’t interrupt, Jacob.” Your father snapped.

Your mother took your hands, her tone becoming soft and quiet, like you were a kid and she was trying to make you feel better after falling off your broom, “We’re only trying to think of your future, Y/N. Marrying such a boy will only ruin it.”

“Stop this, mum,” You said, yanking your hands away, “I’m not listening to you anymore. Jacob’s right. It’s not your future to decide.”

“All this brainwashing from Jacob.” Your father scoffed, “Is that how you want to live your life? Listening to him and following what he does?"

“Y/N doesn’t need to listen to anyone.” Charlie said.

“You’re hardly allowed to have an opinion in our child’s life,” Your mother sneered, “You’re just as bad as him.”

“That’s not fair, mother.” Jacob said.

Everyone’s voices got louder as they began to talk over each other. You felt like you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. Your head felt like it was about to explode.

Everyone was arguing over you. Your future. Your decisions. This was what you should’ve been in charge of, not all of the people arguing. You knew who you wanted to listen to, but their voices were quiet in the chaos. This wasn’t anything for others to argue about, it was your voice that should’ve been heard over all of the others.

“Stop! Stop!” You yelled. Even though you thought that your words would be lost in the shuffle, they actually heard you. Everyone turned to you and you suddenly felt more flustered, “You all need to stop! It’s my future, and no one else will decide that for me! Mother, father. No matter what I do, you won’t get in my way, as much as you protest. I’m not like Jacob, and I’m not simply some silly brainwashed girl who’s blindly following him! I’m my own person, and until you start treating me like I am, then I don’t think I want you to be a part of my life.”

Your mother looked at you with such an intense look of disapproval and anger that you thought you’d melt under her stare, “If that’s how you feel, Y/N, then I suppose we’ll just stay out of your perfect little life.” She said through clenched teeth, “But don’t expect it to last forever.”

Your mother turned away, nodding to your father. They angrily walked away, leaving you, Jacob and Charlie in shock at what had happened.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s go.” Jacob said, sliding into the car and slamming the door.

You turned to Charlie, “I could’ve handled that, you know.” You said, your voice somewhat teasing.

“I’ve always told you that no matter how much you can handle yourself, sometimes you need a little help.” Charlie said, placing a kiss on your lips.

Jacob leaned over, rolling down the window, “Y/N,” His voice was stern, “Let’s go.”

“I’d better listen to him.” You said, opening the car door and getting in.

Charlie took a few steps backwards, not taking his eyes off of you, “I love you, Y/N.” He called out.

“I love you, too, Charlie.” You said, waving as the car began to lift off the ground.

The car flew far over King’s Cross. If even just barely, you could swear that you could see your parents far down below, watching you take off. You knew that it was far from the last time you would hear from them.

A/N: Ok, ok, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve posted, but I promise I’ll try some consistency for once. Also, I know that this is probably the weakest of the series, but it’s definitely more to transition us to actually being in Romania. Not to mention, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything like this and I’m pretty rusty.

[djlook]

Off the Air 9/8/20 Playlist

KOKOROKO - Carry Me Home

Staff Benda Bilili - ONG

Michael Kiwanuka - You Ain’t the Problem

Gilberto Gil - Era Nova

Evinha - Espera Pra Ver

The Scorpios - Mashena

Los Bitchos - The Link Is About to Die

Alberto Bof - Pistachio

Odetta - Sakura (Live)

Damon Locks & Damon Locks Black Monument Ensemble - The Colors That You Bring

Rafiq Bhatia - Breaking English

Poni Hoax - Tropical Suite: São Paulo

Claude Fontaine - Strings of Your Guitar

Ana Frango Elétrico - Promessas e Previsões

Shintaro Sakamoto & Devendra Banhart - Volta e Meia

Kikagaku Moyo - Mushi No Uta

Pinc Louds - Dream Catcher

Summer Salt - Fire Flower

The War On Drugs - Holding On

Foxes in Fiction - Flashing Lights Have Ended Now

maxime. - Empty 

Drug Store Romeos - Frame of Reference

Sunken - Swoon

Bonny Light Horseman - The Roving

Ty Segall - My Lady’s On Fire

PAINT - Daily Gazette

Chastity Belt - The Process

Molly Burch - needy

Girl Ray - Let It Go

Kevin Krauter - Kept

Real Estate & Sylan Esso - Paper Cup

Katy J Pearson - Tonight

U.S. Girls - 4 American Dollars

CocoRosie - Restless

Nilüfer Yanya - Hey

mmmonika - Me N June!

Dent May - Soon Enough

Mitú - Verdes Ojos Chinos

Austyn Gillette - Celbrity

[phoenixplume117]

Today's Decisions, Tomorrow's Consequences Chapter 14

Alya called for Trixx while Nino dialed Max's second line. To be expected, it just rang, as Pegasus was fighting on the live feed of France 24 from Paris. Suddenly, he grabbed his head and started screaming. Queen Bee rushed to him, and they fled.

Suddenly, the scene switched to Nadja who looked… off, "This is Nadja Chamack, TVi anchor reporting for France 24 international news. Thank you for tuning in. This is an Emergency report; please stay inside and take cover. The akumatized victim known as Painreign has invaded Paris once again."  She looked intently at the camera as if reading a teleprompter.  “Painreign's akumatization is psychic in nature; he telepathically makes his victims believe they are hurt.  He does not physically harm them, however, some doctors believe if the pain is strong enough, it could lead to seizures or heart attacks.  I cannot stress the need for Parisians to stay indoors!  As you can see, Pegasus has been rescued and taken from the battle by our Queen Bee.  So far the list of victims has been Forte, Monkey King, Viperion, Fidélité, and now Pegasus.  We still have not seen Ladybug or Chat Noir." Her iris' shifted the slightest bit and herface implored the camera, "Chat Noir, Ladybug where are you?  Please, come help us!" She looked like she was about to say something else, but suddenly, the scene shifted to three anchors behind a desk.

"That was live from Paris. This is France 24, international news from France, for live coverage of the attack on Paris.  Thank you Mme. Chamack," the North Asian woman in between the men said and snapped the pile of paper in front of her on the desk.   "We will be returning to Mme. Chamack after a word from our sponsor." Suddenly, a Renaun zipped across the screen, taking the anchors with it and showing a race track.

Nino tried calling Pegasus again, but no answer.

Adrien transformed while Marinette called Queen Bee.

"Marinette!  Where the hell are you!?"

Ladybug looked at everyone else, "I got QB!" She spoke back into her phone, "Are you still with Pegasus?"

"Yes!  I'm trying to get him as far away from Painreign's influence as possible.”

"Just find a safe place and take off his glasses."

"What?"

"Trust me, I know you already know who he is," she could hear them in the background.

"It's okay, Max, it's okay. I promise, you're not actually hurt. LB said to take off your miraculous."

Marinette couldn't hear what he said, but she did hear the anguish in his voice.

"Give them to me, or I'll take them off you myself.  We don't have time for this bullshit.  I don't care what you're wearing."

Marinette heard laughing and grumbling.

"I'm sorry, but next time, put something on. Thank god it's summer."

Marinette couldn't help herself, she had to ask, "Um, is he naked?"

QB's laughter came through the line but Max's deep voice cut her off, "NO!"

QB snorted, "He's wearing boxers and a white t-shirt."  Max groaned.

Kaalki had had enough of the Bee torturing her chosen and flew close to the phone, "Ladybug, as always, Max is fabulous. I only need to know: if he transforms again, will he be fine or…" she let the sentence hang.

Marinette smiled. It was terrible timing. but Chloe and Max needed this, they never really healed after their breakup.  "I'm not sure. I hate to make him try it.  Kaalki can you hear me?"

"Yes, of course I can, I have superb hearing, who do you th-"

"Kaalki, focus. Are you hurt?"

Kaalki seemed to be assessing herself, "No, I don't believe so."

"Alright then. I would say try. Chances are he should be fine."

Max transformed, and for a moment, everything seemed fine. Then the screams started again, and Queen Bee snatched his Miraculous off his face, abruptly tearing his transformation from his body and pulling Kaalki from the Miraculous.  QB wasn't laughing anymore as she leaned over and tried to comfort Max. She spoke into the phone, "Did you hear that?"

Ladybug nodded and spoke softly, "Yeah… I did.  Now, I'm going to have to ask you to do something you aren't going to like."

"It's fine, I already knew you were going to," Queen Bee said. Handing the phone to Max, she held his pince-nez glasses to her face as she called out, "Pollen-"

"Chloe?  Don't detransform," came the tinny voice over the line.

Queen Bee's hand touched her miraculous.  "Okay?"  She said unsurely. After all, only Adrien and Marinette were actually capable of powering multiple Miraculous without being too overwhelmed.  

Max's voice came through loud and clear now; he was obviously holding the phone now, and his voice seemed to carry a world of worry, "Ladybug are you sure?  Couldn't it cause brain damage or something?"

Marinette honestly didn't know what it would do, but she had a sneaking suspicion Chloe could handle multiple miraculouses. She knew if Kaalki was carrying the compulsion that Max believed he was hurt, then Chloe would need Pollen to combat it.  Ladybug's authoritative voice reassured him, "The best we can do is try, but I have the utmost belief in Queen Bee's abilities." She turned to Adrien who had transformed while she'd been on the phone, "I need the coordinates for this location," she said and was about to say more but heard Queen Bee in the background.

"Kaalki,transform me!"

"How is she?" Marinette asked Max.

"Woah," he said.

"Max!" she insisted.

"I'm fine!" Chloe replied.

"Alright, then Royal Rider, come get us at 45 Boulevard De La Garoupe, Antibes," Chat said.

"Uh," came Chloe's voice from the background.

"It doesn't work like that," Max said, "Do you have the coordinates?"

"7.137133 by 43.561014," Chat said looking down at his stick's GPS screen. 

"Give me that," Royal Rider said and suddenly her voice was louder. "Go home, get some rest, I'll check on you later, okay?  Actually, we're really close to Kim's; go there."

"Are you kidding?" Ladybug heard in the distance. "He'd never let me-"

"Enough!" Ladybug interrupted, “We don't have time for this. Max, stay wherever you are. If you want, Rider, come get us. Carapace and Rena are here too."

"Hold this," there was some background shuffling then, "Okay, I'm here, where are you?" 

Carapace, who'd been tapping his foot impatiently, looked at Rena, who had been avidly watching the news. Rena saw Nadja, who was back on screen, slowly and emotionally deteriorate before her eyes.  "She's here," he said holding his hand out to her.

Rena held his hand and stood as they all ran up the stairs and out of the house. Chat called out a verbal command for the alarm to engage.   "Guys," Rena called out as they ran through the garage, "I think Nadja was hit! When we get there, I'm going to take care of her first."  

Ladybug nodded, "Sounds good.  I can tell you from experience, though, journalists will usually fight you."

Rena blushed, "Sorry," she said as she shut the external garage door.

Royal Rider stood arms crossed, tapping her fingers on her opposite bicep, looking at the Mediterranian waters.  Her suit was very similar to Pegasus' with one exception, all the leather straps were gold.  Her black hair was braided the way Chloe always wore it now, across her head falling in front of her shoulder.  What was most stunning was the tiara of gold horseshoes at her brow with Pollen's comb proudly in the middle of the crown, acting as an anchor and holding it into Rider's hair. While Pegasus had short wings at his ankles, Rider had thin gold folded wings from heel to knee.  Her venom filled spinning top was strung from shoulder to hip while her fighting horseshoe was on the opposite hip. Most noticeable, though, was her skin. She was white.  Not human white, but paper white. As Queen Bee, she was black from her hair to her toes with only three stripes of yellow around her middle and one stripe through her hair and completely blue sclera with yellow irises. Her appearance showed people where she stood even if it were dark.  It had been necessary when Ladybug gave her a second chance at the bee miraculous, and it worked; no one realized the black hero was Chloe.  Chloe hoped with the pince-nez sunglasses, people still wouldn’t guess her identity. She spoke up when she felt everyone had investigated her suit long enough, "Took you long enough.  Chat, you guys really need to repaint your fence. When was the last time it was painted, the 90's?  You're going to bring down the property values.  'Very tacky,' " she finished in English.

Rena, who'd been about to compliment her or at least thank her, rolled her eyes, "Seriously?  Let's go!"

Rider put her hands on her hips, cheeks warming. "I have a little problem; I'm not Max, and I can't just calculate locations in my mind. Even with the miraculous' abilities, I can only get the basic idea of Paris' coordinates. I have no idea how to get down to the specific location."

Chat sighed with irritation, pulled his stick out and snapped his GPS app open. After a few moments, he gave the coordinates of the Eiffel Tower.

Rider opened the portal, and Carapace hopped through first, running to help the civilians crippled with pain, followed by Rena who ran to help Nadja. Chat turned to Rider, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, "Yeah."

He nodded back and walked through the portal.

Ladybug looked her up and down. "I need you to tell me the truth, are you hurt or tired?"

Rider shook her head and laughed, "I'm seriously fine. Let's go; Paris needs help."

Ladybug looked unsure, but looking through the portal, Chat was staring at her with a worried look on his face, so she hopped through to him.

Rider walked through last and the portal snapped shut behind her.  

"Ladybug! I missed you!" Painreign said, floating over to them.  

He was dressed like a horror version of a doctor.  Most terrifying was the replacement of his head mirror with a rusty rotary saw blade. Suddenly Ladybug realized he must have had negative experiences with mental healthcare before they met the first time, because this had been his costume the last time, too. After he'd been de-akumatized, he'd been taken to Saint Anne's and diagnosed with acute schizophrenia with moments of paranoia and delusions of grandeur.  She never thought about the fact that he had probably been diagnosed with something before their first encounter.  She didn't think she could hate Hawkmoth more before, but this.  This was horrible. Who could do this to someone so deeply and mentally ill?

Hawkmoth stood behind a chimney with Mayura by his side.  "Those fools!" he said, "They should have just stayed away!"

Mayura peeked around his shoulder and around the chimney, "Do you really think getting closer will make a difference?"

Hawkmoth reached down and held her hand, "Him having that akuma is pointless. I can't control him, and he has no intention of bringing me their miraculouses."

Mayura nodded, but he still hadn't answered her, "Do you-"

"Yes, I believe if I get close enough, I'll be able to rip the akuma from him since I wasn't able to pull it away before or even communicate with him."

"Have you tried communicating with him?" She asked.

He tried again, but it was like standing in an empty room filled with white noise. He shook his head, "Nothing."

Mayura shook her head, "How did he get the akuma?"

Hawkmoth looked down at her, "It was supposed to go to nurse who was tired of being used as a weight lifter by everyone in the building." He sighed, "He wasn't even in the building; he'd left for the day. I'm just out of practice.  That or this man's will was just that strong.  I just thought it was a perfect opportunity-Adrien would be safe since he was out of town."

Mayura nodded; she'd thought that before.  If people wanted an akuma, they would go to them regardless of if Hawkmoth had intended that person to be the original user or not.

"How are you?"

Mayura, who'd been staring off into space as she thought, snapped her attention to his face, "I'm fine," she said, and she was. Now.  It had taken a while for her body to fully heal, but since Gabriel had fixed Duusu's Miraculous, she was fine when she used it.  It never kept him from worrying, though.

Hawkmoth looked down at her deciding if she was telling the truth. He settled on yes. Yes, she was telling the truth based on her posture and smile.  "Okay," he said. He turned back to the man and commanded his akuma to return to him, but nothing happened.  He tried again, but no positive result.  He tried to communicate with the akuma, and yet again, even though he felt like he was speaking to no one, he spoke anyway, in case his commands would be heard.  "Painreign, do you hear me?!"

Mayura held his hand tight as if somehow she could lend support to him and strengthen his connection to the man.

He shook his head.

"Nothing?"

Chat held Ladybug tight, feeling her shivers and hating that they'd been forced to come; she wasn't ready to be here.  She probably wasn't even over last night's ordeal, and now, she was supposed to do this?  He leaned forward, "I'm right here, Ma- M'Lady."

She nodded once, and in her head, she repeated, We're not alone, We're not alone, We're not alone. Maybe if she repeated it enough. the memories would fade.  He was one of the most intelligent villains they'd ever gone up against.  He'd used his ability to make her think her arms were broken in different places to prevent her from using her yo-yo.  Ultimately, she'd done it but the pain had been astronomical.  And he'd 'broken' one of Chat Noir's femurs, literally forcing him to bow to him.  Once incapacitated, he'd easily been able to tie them up and take one of her earrings.  But he didn't know how to work the screw backs, and he'd eventually just ripped it out.  Ladybug's eyes glazed over at the memory that woke her up sweaty and chilled at the same time for months after.  She had to treat him fairly. She had to say to herself, remember he is a victim! Desperate to keep the tremor out of her voice she spoke, "Painreign, this is not the way to get my attention.  You are hurting the people of Paris."

He spoke as if he never heard her, "Ladybug, may I have your earrings?" He floated toward her as if on a magical zipline.

Ladybug's reflexes were slow. Chat jumped down from the tower and slid down his pole with her in his arms, but Painreign was faster and was ready to meet them at the bottom. Chat quickly extended his pole again, and they quickly jumped to another level, running apart from one another along the side of the tower. They were grateful they occasionally climbed the famous landmark for fun, giving them the advantage of knowing the structure's design.

Painreign screamed his fury and flew up toward Ladybug, but suddenly, a fog engulfed the level Chat and she were parkouring through.

Chat suddenly heard a cry. "I can't keep up," Ladybug said as she fell. She had managed to throw her yoyo and safely dangled from it a little over a meter from the level below.

Chat scooped her up and continued running and leaping, trying to assess the situation but not finding any clues. His mind raced. Just seeing the man made him see blood, so much blood, Mar- no, Ladybug had been covered in blood the last time they'd seen him.  Seeing him didn't make him angry; it made him scared.  He didn't want her here. He wanted her far away and safe.  Once he'd taken care of the situation, then she could come. That would be much better.  He never wanted to see her suffer like that again. 

"Ladybug, do you have any ideas?" He asked.

Ladybug looked over his shoulder at Painreign, trying to assess him and watching for any type of clue, but she didn't get anything from the man. 

She shook her head, "None." 

Everywhere Painreign looked, there were Ladybugs.  He reached for the closest, "Gotch-" but she disappeared in a poof of smoke.  He spun around; she'd been real, he knew it!  He'd seen it!  He saw her again and flew after her. "Ladybug wait!  I won't hurt you," he said reaching for her hand as she ran from him, but once he touched her she blew away.  "No!" He yelled then twisted and ran for another, but every Ladybug disappeared as soon as he touched her, and soon, he was screaming. 

He saw Chat Noir at that moment.  "You!  How dare you touch my Lovely Bug!"

Chat started moaning with his lips pressed together.

Ladybug looked over her shoulder. "What did he do?  What hurts?" She jumped out of his arms, not paying attention to the greater threat.

"LB!" Chat yelled at the same time she felt Painreign's hands at her ears causing her to stiffen in fear.

"I'll be gentle this time. I know how to take them off properly. Or if you like, you can take them off," Painreign offered reasonably.

Before she could say anything, Chat crawled around her legs and panted up at him, "No, stop, don't, you can have my ring. Stop, just stop, touching her!" He gasped between nearly every word.

Painreign shook his head, pitying Chat who was beginning to sweat. "I don't want your ring, silly." He turned to Ladybug, "I want 'the pretty bug,' and I will be Mr. Bug!"

Chat looked up to Ladybug with a stunned look in his eyes; he'd been Mr. Bug only a handful of times, but it was kind of shocking that it would be anyone's life goal.  She looked terrified.

"How's your back, Kitty Cat?" Painreign asked with a wicked look on his face, clearly punishing Chat for touching the woman he loved.

Chat tried to remember he was fine, that it was all a trick. Unfortunately, he kept remembering an article he'd read that said there was no such thing as mind tricks when it came to pain. Pain was part of the nervous system which was powered by the brain.  So no matter what, the pain was real. This was why addicts who needed pain killers were never lying about their pain.  Thinking that way wasn't helping him at all, but he couldn't help it. He tried to remember how in some countries, people would get up and walk home after having a major surgery.  Pain was literally all in the mind, or at least the nervous system.  After their last battle with Painreign, he'd researched pain and nerves.  Everything he'd learned just made the situation worse.  

"It's fine!" he gritted out, but by now, he was laying on the floor at their feet, watching Ladybug's eyes fill with tears of fear.  Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a brown leather suit with yellow stripes coming, and then, her venom filled top shot out.

Suddenly, Royal Rider was on her hands and knees screaming, and her top fell uselessly at Ladybug's feet.  Rider's head was hanging down, and she was looking at her legs as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.  

Chat twisted the best he could with his "broken back," and saw the look on her face, "Thighs?"

She whimpered and nodded. "I can't move."

"He did the same to me last time."

"And you carried her?!"

Chat would have shrugged if he could have.

"Must be love," she said between whiny breaths.

Painreign snuggled Ladybug, holding her arms down and preventing her from using her lucky charm. "Here we are, darling. Now as I was saying, please let me have your earrings.  I did say 'please'."

Ladybug shivered she saw a flash of purple from the corner of her eye, then heard Hawkmoth's commanding voice.

"Painreign, you're in grave danger! You've had that akuma too long, and it becomes poisonous to the carrier after so many hours. You must let it go."

Painreign looked at him, "No! You're trying to trick me!" But the last time he'd only had the akuma for an afternoon, this time he'd had it over a day already.  What if he was right…?  Painreign let go of his tight grip on Ladybug to scratch his arm.  

Ladybug threw her arm up shouting, "Lucky Charm!" and her yoyo came down with a purple purse. "Huh?!" She'd never gotten anything other than red polka dotted items.

Ladybug looked at Hawkmoth. He had a frown on his face, but then he smiled. "Mayura, get their miraculouses!"

Mayura jumped from out of nowhere on top of Chat, and Ladybug kicked her in the side.  She grunted from the impact, then bounced back, going for Ladybug's ears. 

Ladybug twisted, hitting the woman with the purse.

Hawkmoth went back to persuading Painreign that the Akuma was slowly poisoning him.  Logically, he knew it was the best way to set off the man's paranoia, but it made him feel ill to hurt someone already so mentally ill.  He told himself he was doing it because if he didn't, the man would harm more people.  The unfortunate truth was this, something needed to be done.  "Painreign?  Are you starting to feel itchy?  That's not a good sign."

Painreign looked at him with fear and he felt like a monster, "Get it out!" the man screamed and clawed at his arms, but thankfully, the white lab coat saved his skin.

Ladybug had Mayura tied up with her yoyo and brought her over to Hawkmoth, "I believe this belongs to you."

Hawkmoth looked at the purple purse trying to figure out what clue the purse was pointing to. He knew it was meant for him, but all he could think of was that it looked like the old pockets he'd learned about in college when he'd taken fashion history.  He turned to the lab coat and realized lab coats had double pockets.  Exactly like historical pockets.  He kicked the man, but the akuma had made Painreign quick.

Painreign whined, "Why isn't this working?!  Why aren't you hurt?"

Hawk Moth laughed, "I am the one who owns those powers. They won't hurt me unless I give them permission and I didn't."  While he spoke he kicked out again intentionally missing but following through with his cane and hitting his mark, stunning him long enough that he was able to reach into the lab coat's pocket where he found a puzzle piece. He tried to gently pull the akuma from it, but it wouldn't budge.  He tried again, this time without being gentle. He imagined ripping it from the cardboard side with a force strong enough the wings could tear off the butterfly, yet it still didn't work. He turned to his enemy in red and held up the puzzle piece to her, shocked at his own action. "I can't get it out."

Ladybug looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Are you helping me?"

"Give me Mayura."

Ladybug snapped her yo-yo back and pushed Mayura to Hawkmoth. He threw the puzzle piece at her, and she picked it up and snapped it in half all the while watching Hawkmoth distrustfully. He had his arm around Mayura's waist and bent to pick up Painreign. Before Ladybug could stop him, he'd picked up both of them and jumped from the tower.  Ladybug cleansed the akuma before Hawk Moth could call it back, then she looked at Chat and Rider, who were still in pain. Would the purple Lucky Charm work as compensation?  She looked down at the purse and tossed it high, hoping for the best as she yelled, "Miraculous Ladybug!" She nearly wept with relief when they swept across the city, starting with Chat and Rider.  

She fell to her knees and kissed Chat Noir. "Thank god."  She felt his hand on the back of her head and his arm around her back, and wrapped herself around him. She could faintly hear Rider speaking to her.

"I hope you know the whole world is watching," Royal Rider said plopping onto her back and laughing in joy at not being in pain anymore. She looked at the drone recording the embracing heros and snapped her top at it, causing it to crash to the ground beneath the tower. She smirked; the world would never catch her making out with her boyfriend while they were in disguise.

Nadja Chamack was being carried away from the Eiffel Tower in Rena's arms as fast as she could run, trying to get the reporter outside of the circle of influence.  Apparently Nadja had suffered multiple "injuries."  Yesterday, Painreign had 'broken' her leg and today he had 'broken' both of her clavicles, which was why she was in tears and why her hands were in her pockets.  She told Rena she had refused to go home last night, saying she didn't want to scare her teenage daughter. Nadj stayed at work and when she'd been hit with another psychic blast today, she refused to go off air, telling her cameraman to put her hands in her pockets for her. 

Rena kept running, listening to the story in awe of the woman.  This was what she wanted to do.

"Aaah!" Nadja sighed in relief and went limp. Apparently, they were out of Painreign’s area of influence.

Rena looked down. "No more pain?" she asked.

Nadja shook her head. "I feel fine now," she said.

Rena set her down. "Okay, I'm going back to help," she said and turned back to run toward the tower.

Nadja chased after her.

Rena turned around, "No pain at all?"

Nadja looked up and said, "Ladybug must have fixed everything."

Rena agreed and bounced forward.

Nadja yelled, "Can you take me back?"

Rena turned around running backward, "Sorry! One way trips only; I'm not an UBER."

Nadja jogged toward the tower irritated with the heroine.

Ladybug pulled away from the kiss and rested her head on Chat's shoulder, running her fingers through his unruly hair.

"It went a lot better this time," Chat said.

A laugh burst from Ladybug's lips, and she nodded against his shoulder.

He ran his hand up and down her spine, calming her frayed nerves. 

"Let's get out of here guys.  I'm about to lose Kaalki and I don't know how it affects Pollen," Rider said, jumping up and tossing her top to let it pull her away from the tower.

Chat looked over the side and saw Carapace arguing with the news crew. He called down to his friend to notify him they were leaving.  Ladybug wrapped her arm around him and tossed her yoyo after Rider, following her to wherever she'd left Max.

On the street below, Carapace watched the footage of Ladybug and Chat Noir's embrace being broadcast on France 24's international live feed.  "You cannot broadcast that!"

The cameraman laughed, "We've been waiting 10 years for something this juicy!"

Carapace groaned, "They haven't even been fighting crime for 10 years."

The cameraman laughed with joy at being the first to catch the couple in a romantic situation in years.  "Besides, it has already been shown."

"Once!" Carapace shot back. "No one needs to see it again!"

The cameraman shrugged. "The feed is saved at the office. Sorry, Man," the cameraman said without remorse.

Carapace looked up seeing Rider and Ladybug leaving, "Sorry not sorry is more like it," he said, then ran after them.

The cameraman shrugged and replied to no one, "True."

Rena watched the Paris rooftops as she ran toward the Eiffel Tower and once she spotted the two women's cords pulling them in the other direction, she turned to follow them.  After a couple streets she caught up with Carapace.  "Oh, babe, what happened?"

"You won't believe it."

"I'm sure," she said, scooping him up and bounding up structures until she was on top of the buildings where she could more easily catch up with the rest of the group. "Nothing surprises me anymore."

Carapace wrapped his arms around her neck like a princess. "Dude, trust me. You will not believe what happened today."

"Carapace!  What happened!"

"Hawkmoth saved the day."

She would have stopped, but she needed to get wherever everyone was regrouping before she lost her powers.  She'd created a field of Ladybugs before she ran to help Nadja, hoping she could do it all in her allotted 10 minutes, but her time was dwindling down.

"Rena?" Carapace asked.

She kept running, "Why?"

"The only thing I can think of is guilt."

"Guilt?! The man has terrorized this city forever!  He's akumatized babies!"

Rider yelled, "Rena! Over here!"

Rena jumped two buildings then set Carapace down. Looking around to see if it was safe, she pushed past her friends and stood against the chimney, feeling her disguise fall and along with a disgruntled Trixx into her awaiting hands. "A little close, don't you think?" the kwami snapped.

"Sorry," Alya said checking her pockets realizing she had nothing for her exhausted friend. 

Everyone else looked guilty; looked like no one was prepared or had spare.

Ladybug sighed. She listened, but her earrings hadn't started beeping yet.  She tossed her yoyo skyward using her second Lucky Charm hoping for kwami goodies. "Lucky Charm?" The yoyo came down with a box from her parents' bakery, and once she opened it,Trixx zoomed inside, tearing into a pink macaron.  

Moments later Ryder's pince-nez sunglasses and tiara beeped their final warning, and Kaalki and Pollen both went directly to the treat box, ignoring Chloe who blushed as she was exposed, wearing her pajamas after torturing Max. 

"Nice outfit, Chlo," Max commented.

"Shut up," she replied not unkindly, feeling her face warm, and she crossed her arms.  "I was with Zain, we were watching a movie." 

"If you say so," he replied.

Her head snapped up, and she turned to him, "You know what I was doing!  You came and got me!"

He burst out laughing then reached into the box, but Kaalki snapped his fingers with her tail, "Not for you," she said after swallowing a bite of Les Galettes d’Avoine.

Chloe smiled at him, and said in a haughty voice, "Those are only for real heros.” She reached forward for a treat but was interrupted.

"No, my queen," Pollen said nibbling a croissant that smelled like honey.

Max smirked. 

Suddenly, someone climbed up the side of the building. "Oh, my gosh, are you guys alright?!  Chloe, Max, where are your clothes?" Fidélité asked. She was Barkk the dog kwami's chosen.

Chloe smiled at her old best friend, "Yeah. Are you alright now?"

She nodded then looked at Ladybug and Chat. "Everyone saw that, you know?"

They both looked confused.

"The kiss."

Ladybug blushed and said, "It was bound to happen eventually."

Alya spoke up, "Yeah, but was it bound to happen days after Marinette went to a ball with him?"

Chat spoke up then, "There weren't any cameras inside."

"Plenty of people were there though,"  Max said.

Ladybug shook her head, "Marinette danced with Adrien too."

Max turned to her, "That makes it worse Marinette, not better."

Ladybug swallowed. It was one thing to be told everyone knew, but it was another to have it confirmed.  "Maybe everyone will think he's cheating on her?" She said in a small voice.

Chat looked at her a bit hurt; she was throwing him under the bus, but was it the only way she could save her identity?  "How is that a solution?"

Chloe looked at him, "How isn't it?"

Alya nodded, "He's right. Chat Noir might be a flirt but he has good character.  He'd never cheat on his girlfriend."

By this time, Ladybug's earrings were beeping insistently, and she was looking around for a place to escape to.

Chat whispered in her ear, "Might as well let it go. Everyone already knows anyway."

She turned, finding comfort in his features, but she just couldn't agree. "Guessing isn't the same as knowing."

Chat shook his head, "You know Alya and Nino will confirm it."

Her shoulders fell, and she nodded once, letting him hold her as she told Tikki to de-transform her.

"Told you," Chloe said to Max.

"I didn't disagree. I just said, ‘she was a statistical anomaly,’ " he replied.

"Can you speak like a human?"

Tikki looked around at all the people then back at Marinette. "Are you sure this was a good idea?"

Marinette shrugged her ignorance. "If it's bad, I'm sure Bunnyx will yell at me. But honestly, they already know, and I'll be gone soon anyway."

Tikki sadly floated down to her friends and grabbed a macaron, settling down to listen to the latest kwami gossip.

Max turned to Chat Noir and said, "I suppose you actually are Adrien then?"

Chat shrugged without answering.

Max smiled, "Kind of hard denying it considering the four of you were at Adrien's house."

Chat smiled, "Mari invited me since we're dating."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Nice try, Adrikins. I heard you verbally lock your house on your way out, and I know Gabriel has all his homes set up with biometrics.  If you weren't Adrien, you couldn't have verbally locked down the villa."

Chat narrowed his eyes at the blond. "Who do you think you are telling Zain about us?"

She looked surprised then a little ashamed, but she did have her reasons. "It's sma-"

He wasn't finished, yet. "No! You don't get to make those choices, and you certainly don't get to make them alone.  No one is allowed to make choices without the group taking a vote, and I'm sorry if you guys don't like it, but LB’s vote and mine will have more weight."

Everyone looked surprised, and most of all Marinette, as she took a step back out of his arms but still holding his hand.  His face showed a frustration born of years of being left in the dark, just expected to soldier along.

Trixx nudged Alya's shoulder, and Alya nodded.

Chloe nodded to Chat. "I understand; I should have discussed it with you two first.  You're right, but when he told me he'd been chosen, or whatever, since he doesn't have a kwami, my first thought was, ‘He could help us!’ "

"How?" Chat replied. "He's in the US, we're in France, and there's an entire ocean between us."

Chloe held one arm toward Max and the other toward Kaalki who was still enjoying her oat cakes with Tikki.

Chat blew out a frustrated breath. "Chlo, why?  You lost your miraculous once because of this, why would you tell him?"

Chloe shook her head, "He knew."

Chat was taken aback, "How?"

Chloe shrugged, "He said he always loved superheroes, and when he found out Paris had real ones, he followed the stories.  When we first met, he knew I was Queen Bee."

Marinette shook her head, "That's not possible."

Tikki swallowed, "Actually it is."

Chat looked at the red kwami, "How?"

"The reason no one here knows isn't because your suits are such good disguises. It's because there is a magical glamour that prevents people from guessing your true identities," Tikki told him.

Fidélité looked as confused as the rest of them felt. "So why did he know?" she asked.

Tikki looked up at the redhead. "I think he lives outside our circle of influence.  I'm not sure how big it is, but that is the only thing I can think of."

Fidélité looked at Marinette and Chat, "That's not good, especially with France 24 broadcasting us internationally. It doesn't matter for most of us, but Chloe and Adrien are all over the internet. Chloe yawned and said, "So are Nino and Alya, and now Marinette is going to be all over the internet."

Pollen smacked her sticky lips and turned to Tikki and Kaalki. "We should do this again."

"Indeed," Kaalki said, taking another nibble.  She was so ladylike that she took forever to eat.

Tikki nodded and watched Pollen float to Chloe.  "Pollen, what did you think about Chloe's decision to tell him about us?"

Pollen smiled and said, "I trust him.  He reminds me of Wang Yong, remember him?"

Tikki nodded. "Ziggy's chosen, that was a long time ago."

Pollen agreed, "I would say more, but I don't think Chloe should hear it."

Tikki hummed her agreement, then said something in their language.

Pollen replied, and they conversed back and forth for a few moments.

Tikki looked thoughtful, "We really need to talk to Sass and Plagg about this."

Chloe looked at the two kwamis, "What, can't I know? What's that supposed to mean?"

There's more on AO3

[kazrbrekkr]

Things That Shouldn’t Exist - Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Remus notices someone for the first time. He thinks that someone might fit into a category of things he’s already noticed, even if they don’t fit in with anything else.

Warnings: cursing/strong language

Words: 2058

Remus Lupin was certain that there could only be a few things that weren’t meant to exist.

The first was mirrors. This was down to two reasons, the first being that Remus was infuriated by the sight of himself. He was resigned seeing his face, having spent too many hours in the aftermath of the full moons inspecting it, examining for any sign of the monster he had become only hours previously. It was large mirrors, like the one that ran the full length of the back of the dormitory door, or the large thing above the sink in the dorm bathroom, that he hated. They refused to let him avoid the truth about how scarred and broken this disease had made him. The second reason that Remus hated mirrors was because he was tired of being forced to lie awake at one in the morning whilst Sirius attempted to style James’ hair, even with the latter boy continually swatting the former’s hands away.

The second thing was acid pops. The first time he ate one was in his first year at Hogwarts, when Peter had received a box from his Gran as a gift. Peter had shared them amongst his friends, though there was a glint of something Remus couldn’t quite place in his eyes as he did so. The thing was vile and tasted like it was burning a hole through the roof of his mouth. James thought it was the funniest thing he had ever witnessed when Remus promptly spat it out with disgust, retching. The next time he had eaten one was in fourth year, after Peter and Sirius had snuck out to Honeydukes the week before Halloween. They told Remus that the shop had received a shipment of muggle lollipops. He had no idea why he had ever trusted the little shits enough to accept the one offered to him. It was as disgusting as the last time. Nevertheless, Remus still bought Peter a box of acid pops every Christmas. They were the only thing he ever asked for, even if Remus suspected that it was just so Peter would have another opportunity to get Remus to eat them.

The third thing, and he wasn’t too sure why, was y/n.

It’s the first day back at school after the summer hols and Sirius is ranting about something Regulus said to him before they got on the train yesterday.

“Then the pillock told me that I wasn’t safe in that fucking house anymore, like I would ever go back into that hell hole again while that witch is still alive!” Sirius’ arms are flailing about in all directions. Peter ducks more than once to avoid being whacked in the face by a rogue hand.

“Do you think that, possibly, maybe, he didn’t mean it as a threat?” Peter says.

“The fuck else would he mean, Wormtail?”

Peter shrinks into himself a little. “Maybe he was trying to give you advice?” His voice is smaller now.

Sirius opens his mouth to retort but Remus cuts him off. “Pads, shut up. You’re reading into it too much.”

Sirius huffs, grabbing toast from the stack in front of him with more force than is probably necessary.

Remus turns to James, hoping for support, but finds him staring longingly at the entrance to the Great Hall. “Prongs.” No response. “James.” James draws in a breath.

Remus looks over at the doors and sees that Lily has just walked in, arm in arm with a friend that Remus can’t quite remember the name of. He elbows James as the girls sit down with Marlene, along the table from the group of marauders. James pushes his glasses up his nose and pretends to busy himself reading the Prophet.

“Potter?” Lily’s voice is clear in the silence amongst the boys. Sirius is glaring at his toast as he smothers it in jam. Peter has retreated into his bowl of porridge.

James doesn’t look up. “Evans?” He says, attempting to sound nonchalant. He doesn’t.

“Paper’s upside down.”

James glances up at her now. “Ah, yeah,” he pauses for a beat to look at Lily properly. “I got a tad distracted when you sat down.”

She flushes at this and the girl – Remus still couldn’t remember her bloody name – rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Lils? You’ve gone a bit pink,” Marlene says.

Lily’s friend snorts loudly at Marlene’s comment. “She’s the same colour as her tie.”

Marlene laughs when the girl – was it y/n? – jerks back in her seat. Lily had kicked her under the table. She mutters something about finding new friends.

The girl – it had to be y/n, Remus was certain now – makes eye contact with Remus. She shrugs, as if to say can you believe the two of them?

Remus smirks and rolls his eyes. I’ve been putting up with it all summer.

Miraculously, the boys manage to make it half way through their first period of herbology before Sprout splits them up.

“Mr Potter! I’ll thank you kindly to move to the other end of the bench and to restrain yourself from distracting Mr Lupin any further.” Sprout’s face is sweet as she says this.

James sputters, trying to find the words to explain that it was actually Remus that purposely spilled the stinksap over the two of them. Remus suppresses a laugh and pats James on the shoulder as he struts off.

Someone nudges Remus on the arm. He turns and y/n is there. She isn’t looking at him. Maybe she didn’t mean to nudge him. “Hi,” he grimaces. Why in the name of Godric is he being so formal?

Y/n replies immediately, “I saw that.” She’s talking about how minutes before, James was complaining about how much he hated the smell of the stinksap they were extracting from the plants. Remus had decided that, in order to shut him up, he would dump a bucket of the stuff over James’ head.

Remus has the audacity to look shocked. “I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“Also, you absolutely reek,” y/n pretends she hasn’t heard him. Her nose crinkles as she moves closer, reaching for her work gloves that have somehow moved to the other side of the bench. “Do you always smell like that?”

Remus turns back to his work. “Unfortunately, I only smell this great when I’ve doused myself in stinksap.”

“A confession! And yes, that is unfortunate.” She squeezes the plant too harshly. Sap sprays all over her robes. “Shit!”

“Miss y/l/n!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

Sprout moves away and Remus turns towards her. He screws up his nose in mock disgust. “Merlin! You absolutely stink! Do you always smell like that?”

Y/n grins at him, utterly whole-heartedly, and Remus has to stop himself from staring at her for too long. “Unfortunately, no. It’s a very exclusive fragrance and I can’t afford to waste it.”

Remus had never really noticed her before this year but now, y/n seemed to be everywhere. Her laugh danced around at the back of the charms classroom when Peter decided Remus would be his target when practicing Depulso. Her hand shot up across the table from Marlene’s in potions and she cuts Snape off midsentence. Exactly four times in the space of a week, y/n was sat on the bench across from Remus at various meals and caught his eye, rolling her eyes and gagging at something sappy that James said to Lily. Remus learns quickly how to stop himself from going red and drawing breath nearly every time she so much as looks in his direction.

Remus thinks it must be a mistake that he knows her. She’s not meant to exist in his little world.

It’s two in the morning and Remus is lying on the floor of the dorm, staring at the ceiling. He’s vaguely aware of James and Peter playing chess on one of the beds, and of Sirius reciting Shakespeare badly in a voice that isn’t quite loud enough to be considered shouting.

He’s zoned out, thinking about how y/n somehow managed to turn her porcupine into a pin – instead of a pincushion – yesterday in transfiguration when Sirius whacks him in the side of the head with his hairbrush.

“Moony!” Sirius’ voice is loud enough to be considered a shout now.

Remus grunts in response, pulling himself up from the floor.

“Leave him be, Pads,” Peter has climbed off the bed, smirking triumphantly, even as he talks. The only time James has ever beat him at chess was the one time he got pissed on fire whisky – even then, it was a close call. “He’s distracted by something.”

Sirius’ eyes light up. “Distracted by what?”

James, much to Remus’ displeasure, has the same look in his eyes when he glances over from the bed.

A group of them are in the library, crammed around a table behind the restricted section. Sirius likes sitting here because, despite its secluded corner, it gives him a good view of what’s happening in the room. Peter likes sitting here because it’s the only table that doesn’t have a squeaky leg. James and Remus like sitting here because they can gaze longingly at the locked door of the restricted section, just out of reach.

At the table, Lily, Marlene and y/n have squashed themselves onto a bench that’s only mean to seat two. Lily is getting flustered with the combination of trying to finish her potions essay (she’s the only one here who’s actually trying to get anything done) and James, who keeps kicking her under the table with his constant fidgeting.

Remus is wedged in between James and Peter, and is diagonally across the table from y/n. He can’t finish his homework for McGonagall with her there. She’s driving him mad.

“What’s the potion Slughorn was talking about the other day?” Marlene asks.

Sirius has been in a foul mood all morning. “He’s a fucking potions professor, he’s always talking about-”

“Wiggenweld?” Remus offers.

“That’s the one.” Marlene turns back to her parchment, scribbling notes quickly despite her limited arm movement as a result of being jammed between Lily and y/n.

Everyone falls into a steady silence, although Remus can’t figure out if it’s because they’re all stressed about deadlines or if it’s just that they’re all terrified of Madam Pince.

Remus has zoned out again. He tells himself that he’s only staring off in y/n’s direction. Not at her.

Y/n reaches forward and her cardigan sleeve rides up her arm. Her wrist is exposed as she flicks trough the pages of the notes that cover the table. It doesn’t have a hair-tie wrapped around it for once.

“Oi, mate, you alright?” Remus turns his head and James is grinning at him, a spark in his eyes when he realises this is what dear Moony has been distracted by.

Remus swallows. “Yeah,” he glances back across at y/n. He was distracted by her fucking wrist. “I’m fine.”

Y/n finds what she’s looking for. She grabs it triumphantly and waves the paper about for everyone to see. Everyone doesn’t see. Just Remus and James.

“What is it?” Remus mouths across to her. He can feel James still grinning him and his cheeks are starting to go red.

“The secret recipe for l’eau de stinksap.” She’s grinning now too, just as much as she was the day she was covered in the vile stuff.

Remus goes to laugh and chokes on air. James responds by hitting him (hard) on the back. Lily looks up at the racket they’re causing and shushes James. Sirius, joining in, also shushes James – in a much louder fashion. Chaos erupts in this cramped corner of the library.

They’re chased out by Pince 3 minutes later. Y/n and Remus accidentally take off in a different direction from the rest and collapse against a wall two floors down.

Y/n’s face is flushed and the pair are breathing heavily. Remus can’t stop himself from staring but she’s staring back so y/n doesn’t seem to mind. He can’t remember how long it took to regain their breath.

This exact moment is too… real for Remus to comprehend.

Certain things, Remus believed, weren’t meant to exist. That didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t want them to.

[oakpear]

Tag game from @dzhonah (thank you for tagging me!!)

Tag people you want to get to know better: @blacksmithfemme @vleabag @oakfern (although you don't have to if you don't want to ofc!)

relationship status: single and trying to work through the mountain of trust issues my ex left me w before moving into anything else atm SJGKDJDJGKFJDJ

Favorite colour: close tie between blue/pink

Favorite food: I change my mind on this like every month but rn it's these blueberry white chocolate cookies my mom made earlier this summer, I've been dying to get the recipe for them! Also Miso Soup and Pork Gyoza are just an unbeatable combo

Song stuck in your head: an off brand one for me but When I'm Done Dying by Dan Deacon! Specifically the second verse has been ringing in my head since I stumbled onto it the other day. More on brand is Paradisin' - Rina Sawayama sjgkgkfjgifjgkdjgjgis (ALSO I just saved both of pinc louds' albums I have to give them a listen!)

Last thing you googled: 'bus 14 [town I live in]' lmao

Time: 12:30pm i work my final shift here in abt 8hrs but I am! not even remotely tired!

Dream trip: this is the hardest possible question for me BUT a tie between touring Scotland, visiting Edinburgh, and the couple villages my family's from, and going to Italy again, particularly Rome since I only got to spend like, HALF A DAY there.

Last book you read: do comics count? It's a lil embarrassing but it was Avatar: the Last Airbender - Smoke & Shadow JKFDJGJDJDJJ I tried reading through the all the comics after rewatching it but got bored at after this one

Last book you enjoyed: Currently reading Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro and I am LOVING it! I can't make any claims that I exactly GET all of it but I'm having a great time trying to parse through it!

Favorite thing to bake/cook: oh man I made a really basic tomato bisque pasta the other day and like, again it was basic as hell but after a long day it was so good it almost made me cry knowing I won't get to cook stuff like that in my dorm SNFKJDJGKDHGJDJ

Most niche dislike: Ok this sounds more pretentious than I mean it to but reading fancasts from people who don't know anything abt film production. Like reading them and going "oh yeah aesthetically these 6 A Listers you've chosen would fit their parts! I want to know which demon you plan to sell your soul to to get the budget approved to not only pay all these expensive ass actors but ALSO to actually make the adaptation of this YA Fantasy novel." As I said it's pretentious as hell but it gets me GOING sometimes for no reason JDHFGJJJFJDJGJFU

Opinion on the circus: oh p much exact same, acrobats are cool as hell but the animal stuff is so messed up

Do you have a sense of direction?: In life? I like to think so! I've felt pretty lost for the past few years since graduating, esp w covid throwing such a wrench into things but since getting accepted into film school and finally allowing myself to come to terms w being trans I really feel like I have a lot to look forward to right now! Physically tho? Absolutely not I get lost all the time and idk where I'd be without google maps JGKFJDJKGDJFDH