#american AU

[rab-moonbeam]

hi hello this is just something i was thinking about while procrastinating work on friday 🤗

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Middle of Nowhere Tennessee

Aziraphale is finally escaping. He's going out to search for a happiness he knew a long time ago. Thirty years ago, Azalea Easton is on a summer trip with her parents when she meets a freckled redhead named Crowley. They hit it off immediately and are joined at the hip for the rest of the summer. Now. Az has changed a lot. Has been through so much. For one thing, he's a man. As he finds himself in the middle of nowhere Tennessee, looking to start over, he runs into an old friend. One he may have had much stronger feelings for than he thought.

Length: 17,879 Words

AO3 Rating: Explicit/ Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Human AU, Romance

Triggers: None/Gender Dysphoria

Read it here, fic by Worrynoodles

*Minor Spoilers* I am once again asking you to read an American AU. I'm sorry for being an American, but it can work for me!! Especially southern/Appalachian settings. In this story Aziraphale, a repressed and inexperienced trans man searching for a new beginning, has moved to the middle of nowhere of Tennessee. He has incredibly fond memories of the place, and of the red headed boy he met there one summer. I love the romance of it all, the serendipity, and the red tie that binds them. I will never tire of a romantic story like this. A story of two queer men reconnecting and finding love and hope in an environment that is not usually welcome to them will always get me.

There's just an earnestness and kindness to this story that I really enjoyed. Plus, this authors art of Aziraphale is hot daddy and I'm in love with him. There are sex scenes towards the end of the story but you should be fine in public with most of it. I don't want to spoil it but towards the end, Crowley's gift to Aziraphale was the sweetest and most thoughtful thing ever and I can't get over that moment. It's something that on the surface might not seem important, but it is. There is a knowing, and acceptance, and love in that gift. So you're just going to have to read it and find out what I'm talking about!

Read it here, fic by Worrynoodles

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Wish You Were Here by afieryfox Pairing: Remus/Sirius Rating: M Word Count: 69k Moony and Padfoot are both well-known online streamers that meet in an Among Us lobby organized by Lily. They instantly connect with their quick banter and similar interests, even with a whole ocean between them. Remus is alright with crushing on Sirius from afar. Until fans start shipping them and give them the name Wolfstar. Utterly ridiculous, of course. But why does Remus’ heart make a leap every time he thinks about it? And why, after countless hours on Discord calls, does he get the feeling that Sirius might feel the same? (shout out to @whatemidoing, who recommended this in response to this post!)

[adenei]

Never Really Over

Hi all! Turns out I'm really terrible about updating here. So, I'm just going to post everything here, and reblog this every week with the new chapter updates.

I'm only going to link to AO3 mainly because I don't want to post the full story here with how few likes and reblogs it's getting. I'm sorry for those of you who prefer to read on here than AO3, but it's just easier to fully post on one platform.

Never Really Over:

Start from the beginning

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

[wolfstarshipping]

Snow in June by BrigidFaye (25.561 words) Rating: Mature Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, minor Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter

magical AU

Summary: Remus Lupin clashes with every old money, pureblood New Yorker he meets. They’re the trustees he shouted at from protests, the college president whose office he picketed, the board members whose orders he ignored. They are elitists who look sideways at his blood status and back away in alarm when he’s not cowed by their lunaphobia. Currently they're the guests who don't always respect the wilderness retreat where he now works as a caretaker. This winter, Remus has been working with the wealthiest, most impeccably pedigreed downstater he’s ever known. And damn it if James Potter isn’t growing on him. Working with James' best man isn't going to complicate anything… is it?

Comment: This was such a wonderful magical AU, and it has awakened a deep love for lumberjack Remus in me that I didn't know I had before, but now I want MORE! I love BrigidFaye's writing, and all the magical elements in the story, especially the tume bubbles were just so wonderful, I loved everything about this fic!!

[tocrackerboxpalace]

fuck it, sports au. in my boy arc. whatever

third and final chapter expected to be posted... tomorrow? I already have most of it written, so... yeah!

[soupy-george]

Mutuals from the US.... any of you fancy un-brit picking a WIP for me?

Not that I'm a Brit, but as a Kiwi, American English is still a second language 😆🤯

[phoebe-delia]

All That Jazz

Entirely self-indulgent. This is a mini "Chicago" AU (as in the movie musical. yes I know it originated on the stage. I've seen both and I like the movie better so that's what I'm using). CW: mention of murders, jail, American AU, 1920's AU, Muggle AU, Past Harry/Male Character(s), Past Draco/Male Character(s), immoral characters. Also this isn't so much a warning as a note that I am writing CHARACTERS here and the views they express do not necessarily align with my own. Also I borrowed like. A couple lines from the movie lol.

Harry scowled at the newspaper clippings in front of him. One attorney advertisement after another. They all blended together after a while. He knew enough from listening to the shows on the radio that they'd have to give him a lawyer if he wanted one, but he didn't trust whatever government sleaze bag they'd stick him with. Besides, he had enough money saved up to afford his own. Thank god he'd made Mike get that prenup.

Hopefully, it wouldn't cost too much. He needed the rest of that money to get a place of his own. And an agent. Harry closed his eyes and let himself dream, for a moment, of life outside the jail cell. Of bright lights and tight costumes and roaring applause. He'd get there one day.

His daydreams were interrupted by the sound of boots clicking against the concrete floor. He frowned; the other inmates wore tennis shoes, and the warden had already done the hourly inspection. That meant there was a visitor.

Harry stood from his bed and walked to the door of his cell, watching with wide eyes as a tall, handsome man in a suit shook hands with—

No. It couldn't be.

"Draco Malfoy?" Harry gasped.

The strange man looked at Draco amusedly and said something to him Harry couldn't hear. Draco rolled his eyes and shooed the man away. He turned to face Harry expectantly while the stranger walked off.

Harry nearly tripped over himself to walk up to Draco. "You're the Draco Malfoy!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

Harry blushed. "I, er, I'm Harry Potter. You're not going to believe this but–but I was there! I was there at the club that night you killed your husband and your friend! When you were arrested!"

Draco scoffed. "Yeah, you and half of Chicago."

"Well, sure, but—I just have to say I'm such a huge fan. I loved that act you had! With your friend?"

"My former friend," Draco drawled. "Must you make me relive the worst night of my life? Or is there something else you'd like to discuss? I have work to do."

Harry looked away. "Er, sorry. What work?"

"On my defense. For my trial. Which is what you'd be working on too if you had half a wit."

"Hey," Harry frowned. "I'm still hiring a lawyer."

Draco laughed meanly. "Take your time with that. Definitely no rush or anything."

Harry crossed his arms. "Oh, yeah, like you've already got a lawyer."

"As a matter of fact I do."

"Oh yeah? Who."

Draco smirked. "You just saw him leave."

Harry's heart dropped. "That was your lawyer?"

"Mmhm. Blaise Zabini. Ring a bell?"

Harry shook his head. "Never heard of him."

"He's only the best criminal defense attorney in the state. Seriously, Harper. Open a newspaper sometime."

Harry frowned. "It's Harry."

Draco waved a hand and turned to walk into his cell. "Whatever."

Without thinking, Harry grabbed his wrist. "Wait—"

Draco yanked out of his grip with a sneer. "Don't touch me!"

Harry winced. "Sorry, it's just. D'you think Blaise Zabini would take my case?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Don't want to continue this conversation." Draco smiled sarcastically. "Goodbye Henry!" Draco stepped into his cell and shut the door in Harry's face.

Harry clenched his fists and shouted, "My name is Harry you asshole!"

When no response came, Harry sighed and walked back to his cell. When he returned, he grabbed a pen and ripped off the corner of his newspaper.

He pressed the paper against the wall and wrote: Blaise Zabini.

[writingamarie]

17! :)

Pairing: Regulus/Barty

Words: 1166

CW: unhinged Barty, implied murder, muggle au, american au

Quote: #17 "If you love me, you don't love me in a way I understand"

i'm going to call this day 6 of my FICmas challenge!

He hated the Midwest. There was nothing refined or beautiful about fields of green that turned to mud every time it rained. But that was where life had gotten him. It was bullshit, but it was life. Regulus could understand when he thought about all the pieces that came together to form the puzzle of his life. Shitty parents, an absent older brother, bad influences -it all mixed together in a perfect storm to ruin his life. But the thing was, Regulus was smart. He didn’t need someone to come around and explain the new pieces that were falling, he’d seen the final image while it was all still up in the air. 

That was why he was packing a bag. He didn’t need anyone else to tell him when it was time to cut and run. Fuck Barty and the mess he had gotten himself into, Regulus wouldn’t let himself get caught up. Barty was his oldest friend, his boyfriend -for lack of a better term for whatever they were. But more than that Barty was the person that had derailed Regulus’ life at nearly every turn. It hadn’t been a surprise that Sirius had raged about his brother falling down a rabbit hole because of the Crouch kid, although Regulus had been a little more astonished when his parents also disapproved. Barty was from a good family, on paper he was exactly what Regulus’ parents wanted in a partner for him. Except Barty had been far darker than Regulus had known and quickly enough he had been pulled right alongside of him. 

Barty was unhinged, psychotic even -if Regulus had to take a guess. The parties had been fun, the vagabond lifestyle had been beautiful while it lasted, and then it all went to shit. Because Regulus couldn’t talk to someone without it setting Barty off. He couldn’t talk about finishing college or getting a job without insulting something personal within Barty. Regulus had never questioned it, he didn’t mind the life they had made together -or at least he hadn’t.

The plan had been simple. Get the fuck out before anything else could go wrong. There were too many people searching for him from all sides. It was bound to end poorly. The door of his hotel room opened gently, like the manager had used the electronic key to silently allow an invader into Regulus’ space. Regulus was quick, but they were quicker. He lifted his hands but before they could go fully above his head a fist connected with his nose and he fell to the ground.

“Jesus! My hands were up, I surrendered you ass” Regulus groaned as he pressed the back of his right hand to his nose.

“Where is he?”

“I ditched him after I realized you’d been following us for two cities. Your guess is as good as mine. Fuck off, you didn’t have to hit me!”

Sirius’ boot connected with his chest, gently but with enough force to keep him on the ground. It was just enough pressure to act as a warning. His big brother, the tough protector, the terrifying FBI agent, the hunter of monsters. Monsters like Barty -Regulus didn’t need to guess what he’d done. There’d been enough hints and clues to put it all together. But Sirius showing up confirmed it, whatever awful thing Regulus could assume was true. Barty wasn’t just a bad influence that had pulled him into something dark -he’d been an evil influence that whispered from his shoulder about the beauty of the devil. Sirius only hunted some of the worst, his team was known for it. Which meant Barty had become one of the worst and Regulus wasn’t sure why that didn’t scare him more.

“Where would he go?”

“I don’t know, I never understood what he was thinking,” Regulus lied.

The thing about Sirius was, he wanted to fix things with Regulus. He wanted a relationship that more closely resembled brothers rather than the strangers they had become. The fact that it took an investigation for him to pop back into Regulus’ life was the exact thing Sirius had fought to avoid. But even with all his hopes for them Sirius never had taken the time to learn when Regulus was lying.

“I have to meet the team, stay put. I’ll have questions for you.”

“Where else would I go?” Regulus asked innocently as if he wasn’t going to run the moment Sirius left the room. The agents he had undoubtedly stationed around the building wouldn’t be able to stop Regulus.

Sirius left with the promise that they would talk later, an empty promise. All Sirius wanted at the moment was to find Barty. Two cities across state lines -that was at least as far as Sirius had followed them. Which meant his desire to do his job beat out his desire to know his brother. Barty was a target and Sirius wouldn’t let the complication of Regulus’ feelings stop him.

Regulus was right that it was easy to sneak out after. The agents were good but no one had been on the roof. Regulus was able to sneak down the fire escape of the hotel and slip into the traffic of people on the sidewalk. Of all the stupid Midwest cities he had at least thought to stop in the most crowded. He paused, only for a moment to assess where he should go next, when the telephone booth rang out. Barty’s old signal.

Regulus stepped into the booth and prepared to take the call, “Barty.”

“Your brother is quite the pain in my ass. Time to go, Regulus.”

“What did you do?”

“Does it matter? They shouldn’t have touched you, now they can’t touch anybody. Fair’s fair. Let’s go home, Regulus.”

“I’ve seen the news reports, Barty. What you did to them, that wasn’t fair, it was revenge. Revenge over something that didn’t happen.”

“I just love you, Regulus, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Regulus thought of how Barty loved him. The manipulations and difficulties that had popped up between them since they dropped out of school. The pile of bodies and the blood that felt like it was on Regulus’ hands just as much as Barty’s. His love was sharp and painful.

“If you love me it’s not in a way I fucking understand.”

He hung up the phone and grabbed the bag at his feet. He needed to move quickly, if Barty knew the phone booth he was at it meant he had a visual. Regulus was smart; he knew when to cut the strings and run. Barty could love him in whatever violent way he desired but Regulus wasn’t going to be taken down by his brother in the process. Instead, he’d vanish into the wind. It wasn’t hard, he and Barty had managed it before. This time he’d just be alone.

[officialspec]

modern au but set in brisbane. is this anything

[rab-moonbeam]

second chapter posted!!! i'm having a lot of fun writing this and coming up with the story with my friend after we brainstormed this headcanon together 😄 please be kind and i hope you enjoy this silly lil story!

[ghostreblogging]

Ngl this is a short one.

So Danny comes to Gotham. Down on his luck. But lo and behold, he still has access to the kingly vaults! He doesn't have to worry about money!!! He can just buy a small apartment and live out his miserable little life In luxury!

But then he is stopped on a horrible and a dark stump in his plan. How in the 7 hells is he gonna explain it to the IRS ??????

Money laundering????

Can't he just say he found a mysterious big pile of gold and be done with it?

No, Danny . How are you gonna explain the fact that you keep finding mysterious little gold files to the tax man . Jazz says emphatically through a video call . Which is a multi dimensional cuz I can't explain why sam wont just give him the money. And btw the just assume that the vaults has a magic function to give the money to him in the local currency.

Sso from that day onwards Gotham had a new little cafe in a quiet little nook. The prices are super cheap. And it by far has the best fudge in all of Gotham. If you exclude Alfred's.

The gothamites love it. It's a favorite college hangout. Everyone is pretty sure the cafe is a front. Everyone is 100% sure of it. But in this economy who the hell cares. At least it's not nfts.

People can actually benefit from this because we can get like a whole breakfast for like 4 dollars ( an au where like Danny's 2000s world is like super cheap compared to the modern Gotham city and nobody taught the poor boy common prices of this world. Danny's thinking like how do I keep accidentally going into these rich people stores with their ridiculous prices, Ughh guess I'll have to buy this I don't want to go farther) and the quality is good too. The scrawny little twink owner sure as hell does not know much about ingredients prices or did the bare minimum study of business.

Anyway when the bats came sniffing (the scrunkly little guy was innocent blame Fenton luck) and we'll tried to interrogate the owner people actually chained themselves to the front like the worlds most confused save the trees activists.

[bixels]

As they say in the industry, you either know fashion or you don't. And Miss Rarity certainly knows it!

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Hell and High Water by Krethes Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Susan Bones Rating: T Word Count: 7k Podfic available here Read by: Krethes Length: 30-60 mins Pansy is the daughter of the leader of a notorious band of outlaws that's been running this dusty old town for as long as she can recall. Then one day a new sheriff rides into town with her pretty little niece at her side who keeps making pretty little eyes at Pansy and -- aw, hell. find the full podfic library here

[adenei]

Ch 1 - Never Really Over

*Deep breaths*

Soooo I've been working on a new multi-chap romione fic since April. Have kept it pretty quiet aside from my betas who have been wonderful with their help and support because let's be real, finding time to write and allow yourself to become invested in a hobby with an infant is HARD. But that's a whole other slew of issues for another day. You're here for the fic (I assume), so let's get back to that.

I love the direction this is taking, and am super proud of the idea and its development. I think I'm known a lot for taking existing stories/movies/etc and twisting them to fit a ship in an AU, but this one is all me - yay proving to myself that I CAN have original ideas!

It is an American Romione AU in a modern setting.

Summary:

Hermione Granger is a modern woman who doesn’t need to find love for self-fulfillment. Not that finding love is even an option anymore. Her perfect love story has come and gone with the one who got away—sorry, the one who disappeared is more like it.

That fake fairy tale is all well and good until Ron Weasley, the man who ruined everything, suddenly turns back up in her life with no explanation whatsoever. It seems his only goal is to show up wherever she is, attempting to undo the walls she’s built around her heart after he shattered it into a million tiny pieces. But Hermione’s determined not to let him in. With the help of her best friends and an online dating site that promises users their very own ‘happily ever after,’ she sets out to move on from her first love for good. 

After a few misses, Billy slides into her inbox, a sweet, genuine, fun-loving guy who’s easy to talk to and fills Hermione with the hope that perhaps love isn’t off the table after all. Seemingly overnight, she’s gone from perpetually single to balancing a love triangle on a fine, fine line. The deeper she gets, the harder she realizes it’s going to be when she has to choose. The last thing she wants to do is break anyone’s heart—her own included.

So, without further ado, I give you the first chapter of Never Really Over.

Read on AO3

But once in a while I trip up and I cross the line, and I think of you

Work ᐧ a ᐧ hol ᐧ ic (noun) a person who compulsively works long and hard hours.

God, I hate the connotation of that word. And yet it still burns into my mind, distracting me from—unironically—the article I’m trying to finish up at my desk. Am I three months ahead of the current deadline? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean anything. There’s nothing wrong with having backups just in case. It shouldn’t classify me as a workaholic.

Because I’m not.

It’s only haunting me because my brain has a sick and twisted sense of humor. It clearly refuses to follow my strict list of off-limit thoughts, cementing the chokehold the word has on my life.

Ugh. Why am I letting this bother me anyway? I’m Hermione Granger, a capable, independent woman who is perfectly happy with her life right now. A twenty eight-year-old with a house of her own, a career she’s passionate about, and the five best friends a girl could ask for thanks to fate bringing us together during freshman orientation at Kearney University. The memory brings a smile to my lips. What more could one want?

And then the frown returns when I remember that I’m sitting alone in the office on a Friday evening and self-doubt trickles in. If I’m being honest, there’s a lot more I want. Like love. Finding the love of my life would be nice. I thought I’d at least be married by now, and maybe have one kid by the time I turned thirty. Not that I’m a traditional woman by any means. I’m about as modern as they come. It’s just…

No. You’re not allowed to think about him, remember?

Except it’s really hard not to think about him. Especially when that damn word keeps flashing in my mind while I sit here on weekend time, finishing an article that’s nowhere near due. But it doesn’t matter. That inside joke died a long time ago. I stopped finding the word endearing the moment I realized he was no longer in my life. Now if only my brain would get the memo.

I shake my head, brunette curls flying around as I try to refocus on the cursor blinking in front of me. It’s still a tough pill to swallow, but I’ve long since given up on love—or so I’m telling myself. Romantic companionship clearly isn’t in the cards for me, so I turn to the one thing that will never let me down: writing. And right now, I’m only a couple of paragraphs away from completing a lovely little piece on the hidden gems of Bora Bora—the things they won’t tell you in the travel guides.

A long, deep breath helps me push those intrusive thoughts away and brings me back to the salty ocean air and the calm lapping of the waves. If I concentrate long enough, I can feel the sparkling white sand between my toes, and it’s enough to catapult me right back into the article—until my phone rings two minutes later.

I don’t want to answer, but it’s Hannah Abbott, my best friend, and she’s always there for me when I need her. The least I can do is return the favor. Plus, the creative juices are no longer flowing thanks to the interruption, so I may as well see what she wants.

With a swipe right to answer, I do my best not to sound annoyed. “Hello?”

“Where are you?!” Hannah cries, though her voice sounds hushed, like she’s hiding in a closet or something.

“Finishing up an article at work. Why?”

“Unbelievable,” she grumbles, more to herself than to me. “Hermione, I’m going to let you think about why I’m calling for a second and see if you can put the pieces together.”

“What are you talking about?” I’m not in the mood to play this game, but I adjust the phone and hold it against my shoulder so I can lift my laptop and check my desk calendar.

August first. Friday. The day I try to forget. But then I see the periwinkle writing at the bottom of the square.  Harry and Neville’s birthday party.

Remember the strong support system I mentioned earlier? The freshman orientation group turned lifelong friends? Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom are part of that, along with Hannah, of course, and Seamus Finnigan and Lavender Brown. We never miss anyone’s birthdays, and Hannah knows that.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! How could I forget?”

Hannah sniggers at me. “Yes, how could you forget? Hermione, I don’t know if it’s because you love your job so much that you’re willing to stay late on a Friday, or because of what day it is, but—”

“We’re not talking about that. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I slam my laptop shut and shove it in my bag a little too haphazardly. I’m already closing my office door by the time Hannah responds again. “Right…”

She’s clearly contemplating whether to push the subject or let it go. After all, she’ll have all night to try and grill me on it, but she knows better. We don’t talk about what happened on August first. Ever.

And just to make sure she doesn’t go there, I try to swing the conversation back to the guys. “Have they noticed I’m not there yet?” 

“Well, considering it’s a small gathering of our closest friends—all of whom are already here because the party started an hour ago—yeah, they’ve noticed.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry, okay? I just—”

“—Got caught up with whatever article you’re working on? I know, I know. You’re lucky it’s only their twenty-eighth birthday and not the big three-oh.”

“Come on, Han, this is one tiny mistake and I feel terrible. You don’t need to make it worse. I’m never late, you know that! And I would never miss something as big as their thirtieth birthdays. Especially not since we’ve already got a running list of themes and ideas going. Just—give me a break, okay? I’ll be there soon. I’m almost to the car now.”

“Alright.” Hannah sighs. There’s a stilted pause and I wait, knowing there’s something else she wants to say, and I brace for the lecture about my workaholic tendencies and what it relates to. Damn psychology major.

“Listen, Hermione, there’s something you should—” But after a long day of reflecting on it, I don’t want to go there right now.

“See you in fifteen, bye!” I hang up the phone before she can finish her sentence. She tries this every year. You’d think after six years she’d let it go. But no, she thinks that one of these days I’ll finally talk about it. Well, she can keep trying, but it’s not going to happen. That part of my life is over and it’ll only hurt more to bring it back up. 

⚭

It takes me a little longer than fifteen minutes, but that’s to be expected with D.C. traffic. Once I’m parked outside Hannah and Neville’s house, I quickly do a once-over on my appearance. Thanks to the mid-summer humidity, my hair is frizzier than when I tamed it into its half-ponytail this morning. It’s too bad my incessant need to run my fingers through the curly strands does nothing to combat its flyaway tendency. I guess I’ll just have to deal with yet another pitch from Lavender to let her help me with my nonexistent beauty regimen. Perks of having a beautician for a friend. 

Prying my eyes away from the visor mirror, I get out of the car and look down at the pale yellow eyelet sundress I put on this morning. There are definite wrinkles and creases from sitting at my desk all day, but what can I do? At least my mascara isn’t running down my face and I don’t have sweat stains under my arms. That’s more than presentable for a backyard barbeque after working all day. Kudos to whoever chose that over some fancy dinner.

Not that my friends would care. They’ve always accepted me for who I am. Sure, I’ll never hear the end of being late tonight, but at least I made it, and in their company,  I’ll be able to accomplish the one thing I’ve struggled with all day: taking my mind off of him.

Faint sounds of laughter echo as I walk up the path to the front door and let myself in. A ‘happy birthday’ sign hangs from the ceiling in the foyer, and red and gold balloons litter the floor leading to the kitchen. Of course they’d deck out the place with the colors of our alma mater—I wouldn’t expect anything less. 

“Hey, I’m here! And sorry I’m late, you know how work is,” I call to a seemingly empty house. 

I poke my head into an empty living room before heading back to the kitchen, where I find Seamus pulling a beer out of the fridge. Everyone else must be out back.

“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up.”

And so it begins. 

Rolling my eyes, I grab a wedge of gouda off the picked over charcuterie board on the counter. “You say that like I intended to show up almost two hours late. I lost track of time.”

That was sort of the truth. After all, I couldn’t tell Seamus I forgot, he’d never let me live it down. Seamus is usually the one who gets called out on things. His affinity for pyrotechnics has created many occasions for us to give him hell, and you can guarantee between the five of us, we never let him live a single one down. So I guess I can’t blame him when he doesn’t miss a beat now the tables are turned.

Which is why I’m not surprised he isn’t letting me off the hook yet. With a snort, he tries to call my bluff. “C’mon, Hermione. We all know you love working so much that you’d skip out on weekends if you could. You don’t have to lie.” And then, to make things weirder, he looks around and lowers his voice to add, “You can tell me the truth about why you’re late. It’ll be our little secret.”

My face scrunches up before I have a chance to control its reaction. Why does he care so much? 

“I…I don’t know what you mean. I really did lose track of time, Shay. Why are you acting so strange?”

A scowl crosses his face as he sets his beer down on the white speckled quartz. He eyes the back deck before lowering his voice and says, “Because I’ve got a bet going with Lav and Nev on whether you were going to show or not.”

“Whether I was going to—why wouldn’t I show? Honestly, it’s not my fault I got wrapped up in research and writing an article all day and then forgot I had plans tonight! Do you guys bet on my predisposition to get lost in my job and failure to show up to events often?” 

I’m so bewildered by the fact that there’s a bet that I don’t even care about letting my forgetfulness slip. Do I need to reconsider how genuine these friendships are? Does this happen often? Are my friends not as supportive as I thought they were?

I open my mouth to ask as much, but clamp it shut when I see the wide-eyed, pale shock cross Seamus’s face. His reaction is far more severe than it should be and now I’m really confused. He spins around and opens the fridge, rummaging around until he pulls out a mango White Claw—my favorite.

Things are getting more suspicious by the second, and I need to know what is going on. “Seamus, what—”

“Here.” He opens the can with a loud crack and hands it to me. “You’re going to need this.”

Oh, come on. “Seriously? You know I don’t care if I’m already three drinks behind.”

“Well, you might this time…” he mumbles before nodding to the door. “Come on, everyone’s out back. I’m sure they’ll be excited to know you finally made it.”

Okay, what is happening? I try not to let my jaw drop as my mind works to decode this odd behavior. Seamus has always been the one with the crazy ideas and adventurous spirit. There’s not a cryptic bone in his body. If anything, he’s always impulsive and up-front with his intentions.

All I can do is shake my head and follow, giving up on trying to make sense of anything. I take a few quick swigs and step through the sliding glass door that Seamus left open for me. Lively conversation comes from my left, where everyone is sitting around the patio table. I prepare myself for more endless teasing as I shut the door behind me, but instead, the chatter dies to a sudden silence. More peculiarity. 

Did I spill something on myself and miss it? No, Seamus would have said something. Or are they really just that shocked about my late arrival? I’m about to ask as much until I look up and see an all too familiar shade of red hair sitting at the table with his back toward me.

Despite the eighty-degree weather, my body breaks into a cold sweat. I’ve spent six years pretending he doesn’t exist anymore. Six years trying to forget that part of my life, convincing myself that he wasn’t the person I thought he was. That he wasn’t ‘the one.’ 

Everyone else’s expressions mirror my shock when they realize I didn’t know he was going to be here, though Hannah’s contains a tiny wince that’s meant to say, ‘I tried to warn you.’ And their reactions are enough to make Ron Weasley, my ex-best friend, ex-confidante, and ex-lover, turn around.

Seeing his face unfreezes my body from its current awkward stance. Anger and hurt burst through the gates that I’ve worked so hard to keep locked up as our eyes meet. In slow motion, my hard seltzer clatters to the ground, soaking my feet and wedge leather sandals in the sticky, bubbly liquid as I try to find my voice. 

As if this paradox couldn’t become any more ironic, he actually seems excited to see me. He opens his mouth to say something, but I’ll never know what since I manage to cut him off with the only scathing question that I can possibly think of. 

“What are you doing here?”

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

i was a (pre)teen hero once, but then i took some trauma to my psyche