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lakefu · 2 months

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A Perfect Warmth 🕯️

Summary: Astarion and Tav take a well deserved break away form the chaos of their adventures at an inn inside Baldur's Gate. They need to clean up and get back on the road but they keep getting distracted. Perhaps plans could be delayed for a night of passion...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Tags: 18+, Explicit, fluffy smut, brief Astarion trauma response, PIV, erogenous elf ears, scent kink, blood + biting, a bit of praise, a bit of edging... a sprinkle of cockwarming...., these guys are in love...

Word count: 3.5k Note: This was my first fic originally uploaded on Ao3 on 11/27/23, inspired by the patch #4 dev note mentioning adding sponges to clean your companions. I've made edits from the Ao3 post.

“Remind me to sell this junk next time we pass by a merchant, would you dear?” Astarion was seated at the edge of the bed and rummaging through his traveler’s pack, placing various items on the nightstand for further examination. Two silver forks, an old necklace, and a handful of various polished stones ended up on the table before he plucked out an intricate sapphire ring and held it up to the sunlight peeking through the window.

“Good taste,” he muttered to himself. He placed the ring on his pinky finger in amusement and resumed the scavenge.

“It’s going to get difficult sneaking up on people if I have to lug this heavy thing around you know.” He threw over a glance at Tav, who was preoccupied with gathering laundry together in preparation for the next day.

“It wouldn’t be so heavy if you didn’t pocket nearly every shiny thing we came across,” she teased, without even looking over at him.

He gasped dramatically. “Framed by my own lover? Quite the scandal. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the near dozen times you’ve asked me to hold onto your things because your own pack was too full.”

“Hmm. Maybe. I guess that might sound sort of familiar…” She giggled to herself and walked into the bedroom to catch his eye, meeting him with a mischievous grin.

“Why are you such a- oh! Now, what’s this you’re wearing?” Astarion blinked and scanned her up and down, clearly enthralled by the wardrobe change. She stood there in an old linen robe that was yellowed with age, definitely unlike anything he had ever seen her in before.

“Just some old thing I found in the dresser here, isn’t it just fabulous?” Tav's words were dripping in sarcasm and yet she smiled, performing a grandiose little spin in the middle of the room as if she was wearing the most beautiful ball gown in the world.

“I… it’s just so different from your usual armor or that drow nightwear you fancy so much. You look so… domestic.” His eyes were locked onto Tav intensely, with brow furrowed as he seemed to be confused by his own words.

She felt her heart skip a beat and a flush run to her face.

“And you think that’s a good look for me?”

His eyes softened and he paused a moment before quietly answering.

“Yes… I do.”

Tav watched as his smile faded and the gaze of his eyes became increasingly more distant. The atmosphere seemed to shift and a slight panic ran through her body. Did she do something wrong? No... and it didn’t require a tadpole connection to get an understanding for what had brought down his spirits.

Astarion hadn’t considered a comfortable domestic life was possible for someone like him. Even the slightest concept of such a thing had been buried for over a hundred years, and he never expected it to resurface. Was he worthy of such a thing, and was it even possible?

Oh, it was possible. The evidence was standing right in front of him, spinning circles in an ugly bathrobe. He could see glimpses of a happy future that was so close to being a reality he nearly felt nauseous. Not because he was unsure of himself, but because there were still too many unresolved matters they had a duty to attend to. Too many missions and stupid little quests that could now go wrong and threaten this idea of a happy ending he never even knew was possible.

Everything was different now that he realized what was possible, and he suddenly felt an unknown and uncomfortable pressure. All he knew was that he couldn’t afford to lose in the upcoming battles. Battles that some would say were impossible, suicidal even. The thought of loss at this point was beyond unbearable. It was sickening just to think about.

“Hey!!” Tav ran up to where he was sitting on the bed and took his head in her hands. She placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, knowing she had to get him focused on something else.

“Why don’t we go to the shop right now and get rid of that stuff,” she motioned to the collection of items that had been gathered on the nightstand.

“Wouldn’t hurt to get some more coin in our pockets, right?” She looked at him expectantly and felt a huge relief as a light seemed to return to his eye and meet her view.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that horrid robe to see the merchant,” he sighed and looked up at her pleadingly.

“Of course not!! I’ll change and- oh gods!!! We’ve got to get this blood off your face, the merchant is going to think we are trying to kill him!” Tav exclaimed as she lightly shook his shoulders, and quickly began examining his body to see how much cleaning would have to get done before they could leave.

“Blood… on my face?” He raised an eyebrow and brought a finger to his cheek.

“Yeah!! Well, it’s all over you really, dontcha remember earlier today, fighting those cultists?? You sneaked up behind one of ‘em and BAM!!! Just obliterated with a single strike, it was amazing!! You’re so strong…you know.” Her pulse was racing at the mere memory of the event as she delicately traced the side of his face with her fingers and ventured down to his chest.

“Ah of course. That was all so terribly easy I’d nearly forgotten,” he said proudly, adjusting his posture and keeping his eyes on Tav’s hand movements sliding across his chest. Her soft touch was becoming more firm as her fingers made their way toward his arms, giving his biceps a teasing squeeze before leaning her face into his and teasing a kiss.

Before their lips could touch, Astarion wags a finger in between their faces as if to remind Tav of the task at hand.

“Alright my sweet, let’s clean up shall we? You’re my mirror after all. So, go on then.” He took her hands into his own and gave them a kiss before placing them back at her side, encouraging her to go and gather whatever it was she needed to get him cleaned up.

Right, the supplies. It was nearly impossible to remain focused after moments of intimacy with him, no matter how brief they were. She quickly moved into the other room to acquire the washcloths and bucket of soapy water that she was using for herself not too long ago. Hands full, she scurried back to the bedroom to meet her lover, who hadn’t moved an inch.

As she approached him, Tav could feel the tie on her robe becoming increasingly more loose with each step that was taken across the floor. The embarrassment hit her as she realized she didn't have any hands free to do anything about it. She quickly tried to put the bucket down by the bedside, but the bending movement only resulted in the robe slipping off one of her shoulders, exposing a bare breast.

“Oh? You haven’t got anything on underneath?” Astarion cocked his head in amusement, eyes unmoving from the newly exposed skin.

“Ye-yeah that’s the whole point of robes isn’t it? I was doing laundry earlier ya know and umm,” She laughed nervously and started to fix the wardrobe malfunction but was quickly stopped by a hand over her own. Astarion reached out toward her until both hands were around her waist and pulled her in close to his body. Fangs were peeking through his devious smile while determined eyes looked her up and down. With a singular finger he crept over to the loose knot of the robe’s tie and flicked it completely undone with one swift movement.

Tav shuddered and felt her body starting to run warm despite now being suddenly exposed to the cool air of the inn. She was completely revealed to him now, the robe only just clinging to her arms and draped across her backside.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he sighed and began kissing her stomach and caressing the curves of her waist. “Come here.”

Tav gasped as she felt his cold grip around her waist tighten as he expertly lifted her up onto his lap with ease. Pleased at the new angle, Astarion shifted his attention to kissing the crook of her neck and started moving down her chest. He delightfully found her nipple with his mouth in no time, and teased it in circles with his tongue just as he knew she liked it. His gentle sucking continued for only a few brief moments before he suddenly withdrew and cleared his throat.

“Ah, well. You can reach my face better up here I’m sure. For the cleaning of course,” he said smugly. The elf leaned back and admired the view of his lover, nude and flustered, perched oh-so perfectly on top of him.

“The cleaning…” Tav nodded and remembered she still had a warm and soapy washcloth in her hand. The urge to throw the stupid cloth into some unknown corner of the room was nearly undeniable. All she wanted in this moment was for him to take her completely, in any way he wanted, it didn’t matter as long as she ended up getting fucked into oblivion. So fine. On with the cleaning.

She raised the washcloth to his temple and slowly began to wipe away the dried blood by working down his face. His cheeks were a bit sunken as usual but flushed adorably in this moment, clearly enjoying the tender rubs of cloth on his skin. She continued rubbing down toward his chiseled jawline, across to his lips, and back up the other side to repeat the process once more. She ran her fingers through his silver curls and noticed his ears would need cleaning too.

One hand caressed the pointy ear to keep it in place and the other brought the washcloth in for a gentle scrub. A quiet moan suddenly escaped the vampire’s lips.

Oh? She had seemingly discovered a sensitive spot and noted that she would have to continue her work carefully. The scrubbing continued but Tav couldn’t keep her eyes off his face now. His eyes were closed but still noticeably moving behind their lids, and his lips were slightly parted with his breathing becoming increasingly heavier and more noticeable.

Astarion was in his own world of pleasure. What in the hells had he been doing these past weeks, aimlessly scrubbing himself clean alone in the river when they could have been doing this the whole time instead?

He opened his eyes just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. She was still there of course, diligently and lovingly taking such good care of his body. A wave of maddening lust rushed through his core and he needed her closer. He needed her as close as physically possible and even more so after that.

Their eyes met, revealing intense desires. Tav lowered her hands and she spoke slowly, “Can you take your shirt off? There’s a spot I can’t get to with it on…”

She wasn’t fooling anybody, but he obeyed without hesitation. The shirt was gone in seconds, revealing his pale and perfectly sculpted chest. It was a sight that Tav never tired of admiring, and was in fact the subject of distracting daydreams on the daily. She shifted her body closer to his and continued scrubbing his neck and chest, despite it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus. Deep breaths.

She had always been fond of his cologne that he was quite proud of concocting himself. The scent of aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary was now forever an Astarion specialty that she could never forget. Even during times of battle or travel, a gust of wind could carry his essence to her and bring along with it a sense of reassuring familiarity. As she continued to wipe him down, however, a different scent began to come to the forefront.

It was something that did not seem completely foreign, but it wasn't immediately identifiable either. There was something about taking it all in that felt forbidden. Tav tried to pinpoint what she was experiencing. He smelled earthy… raw… unnatural… it was without a doubt, the undeath.

An undeniable heat rose through her body as she engulfed herself with this pure scent from her lover. The washcloth, the bed, the entire room seemed miles away, and nothing felt coherent except for a craving to be even closer to him. Nothing else existed except their bodies and her overwhelming desire to-

“Eager, are we?” A sultry voice snapped her back into reality, where piercing red eyes amusingly greeted her return. She suddenly became aware of a presence between her thighs and glanced down, realizing she was sitting atop a clothed bulge. His hands had a firm grip on her backside and his encouraging movements made it clear she had been absentmindedly grinding on him during her trance.

“Shit, I got carried away…” She hadn’t taken her eyes off his crotch and began to notice that her excitement had left a dampness on his clothes. Embarrassment nearly overtook her, but a gentle yet confident hand grabbed her chin and brought it up to meet his gaze. He leaned into her with a grinning open mouth and kissed her passionately, tongues intertwining.

She felt his fangs briefly scrape against her tongue every so often until a metallic taste became increasingly noticeable. She didn't mind the blood, especially since it seemed to enhance his arousal as noted by his hips continuously jolting faster up into her exposed crotch. Tav was soon pleasantly overwhelmed between his deep kisses and desperate hands groping her at every curve of her body. She longed to give him everything; her blood for his hunger, her body for his pleasure.

Tav released herself from the kiss they had been locked into and tilted her head so that her neck became exposed as an undeniable gift. His mouth lunged at the presented spot as soon as it was noticed, fangs immediately sinking in deep. Tav cried out at the initial impact but soon was reveling in the experience. It was a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure that she was only capable of experiencing from him.

He remained on her neck for a while, still tightly holding on to her body and keeping one hand free to reassuringly caress the back of her head. It was only after the blood flow slowed to a near stop did he cease his medley of licking and sucking at the wound. Blood dripped down his chin and onto his exposed chest, but he was ultimately unfazed. He leaned back, clearly happy and mostly satisfied, but there was still a different type of satisfaction he had left to chase.

Astarion's throbbing erection was begging to be released from its clothed restraints. He quickly untied his pants and shifted his underwear to finally free it. He moaned a few incomprehensible words of relief and stroked himself a few times before looking up at Tav for approval.

Tav had been staring at his length from the moment it was exposed, an impressive size for an elf, no doubt. Her eyes fixated on his perfectly pink tip, glistening with precum just for her. She immediately fantasized of shoving him down her throat until she choked and cried, but that was a fantasy for another day. In their current position, they both knew there was only one simple way of how to continue.

“Astarion,” she whimpered. “Fuck me.”

Tav sat up on her knees and positioned herself so that her entrance was just nearly grazing the head of his dick, ready to take him in completely at any moment. She grabbed ahold of his shaft and guided the tip back and forth through her folds until he was covered in her slick. The new sensation of the friction between them left them both gasping and desperate for more.

Suddenly, finally, his arms wrapped around her body as he pulled her down onto him with one firm motion. Astarion grunted through his teeth while Tav moaned unapologetically, focusing on relaxing enough to allow her body to adjust to his length inside of her.

The temperature differences between their bodies only heightened the feelings of pleasure whenever they became one. Her warmness was intoxicating to him, granting a sense of safety and bliss that was impossible to achieve anywhere else. He was already so close to the edge in this moment, but was not ready to give in just yet. He wanted this moment of heaven to last as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Tav was having the time of her life riding her man like there was no tomorrow. She had no intent to slow down until a pair of large hands suddenly gripped her hips in a way that prevented any further movement.

“I’m not done with you yet, love. Didn’t you notice the mess I’ve made after feasting on you?” Astarion took a finger to his chin and smeared a bit of Tav’s fresh blood down his neck.

It was true, he had made a mess. Quite uncharacteristically of him in fact. Tav had assumed he had simply gotten careless in his horny and feral craze but no- it was clearly all calculated.

“Just be still and sit nice and pretty on my cock. Finish the cleaning, then I’ll take care of you myself. How does that sound?”

How does that sound? His words echoed in her head, which was already spinning plenty enough as it was. She was unsure if it was from the blood loss or her seemingly never ending carnal desires, but perhaps it was both. One thing was certain, however, he could convince her to do damn near anything speaking in that low and lustful tone of his. Without uttering a word she slowly brought the washcloth up to his chest.

“Good girl,” he whispered. He felt her body twitch around him in response to the praise, and he leaned back to relax and enjoy these final few moments of intimacy.

It had taken everything in Tav's power to remain still while she worked. It wasn't exactly easy to focus- she was being split in half by a whimpering vampire beneath her after all. Astarion’s skilled fingers had been dancing around her swollen clit the whole time, just enough to keep her stimulated but never enough to let her come.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the blood was all cleaned up. She hadn't even realized when it happened or how he did it, but his pants were completely gone now. She reached over to place the cloth down and awaited her reward of sweet release.

Astarion’s hands moved to the knees that were straddling him and slowly pushed them farther apart, spreading Tav’s legs open bit by bit. She inhaled sharply as she took him in deeper. He opened her up more and more until she lost her balance and fell backwards onto his expectant embrace.

“Relax darling, I’ve got you,” He purred in reassurance.

Astarion took her entire weight in his arms with ease and laid her down amongst the soft pillows of the bed. He nestled himself comfortably between her legs, making sure their bodies were flush with one another. Nearly smothered by his body now, all Tav could do was claw at his back and arch her hips into his powerful thrusts. His mouth frantically traveled across her lips and neck with desperately wet kisses until he settled near her ear with a playful nibble.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispered tenderly, while the rhythm of his lovemaking became increasingly sporadic. “So fucking perfect… Gods…just for me… I love you… so much...”

“Star, I- ah!” Her words cut short as she felt something snap within her. Pure ecstasy- she was falling and flying somewhere a million galaxies away and never wanted to come back. Obscene noises and curses filled the room as they rode out each other’s high in tight embrace. The smell of sex lingered in the air as their bodies heaved with labored breaths, finally collapsing on each other in exhaustion.

They laid together a while longer, exchanging soft kisses and enjoying the short moment in time where nothing else in the world mattered. Eventually, Astarion rolled out of the bed and stood up to stretch.

“Tsk, looks like it’s my turn to clean you up my dear,” He said with an accomplished grin, eying how her thighs were dripping with his sticky mess.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move an inch. Actually, I doubt you can move at all after that, ahaha!” He laughed and leaned over to brush aside a strand of Tav’s sweaty hair that was stuck to her forehead before walking over to the other room.

“Shut up… dummy…” she smiled to herself and rolled over, feeling at ease enough that the weight of sleep was starting to overtake her.

“I love you too, Astarion.” Her eyes closed as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that her lover would soon come back to her side like he always did, and always would.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #bg3 astarion #astarion fluff #bg3 #astarion fanfiction #vampire fanfiction #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #bg3 smut

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powdermelonkeg · 10 months

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Cheat Code #4 for accommodating disabled characters in sci-fi/fantasy:

If you want to show a character's personality in the aids they use, you need to add customization, accessories, and/or specializations.

i.e.: You'll have a more three-dimensional character design if you take the time to consider what you can make unique about an aid; it should be as much a part of your design thoughts as the clothes they wear or the hairstyle they keep, and there are several ways to go about it. For example:

Customization would be things like colors and lights. A prosthetic arm can have colored guards that slide in and latch; a rich person might have those guards gilded, while a scientist might have a whiteboard arm panel to scribble notes on, and a stage performer could have theirs painted black with a bone on it to give the appearance of a skeletal window. A visor that replaces vision could have a screen that shows expressive pixel eyes for a happy-go-lucky hacker, or a practical black shield for someone in strict uniform. ⠀ To customize: make yourself a base, then take that base and imagine what each character you apply it to would WANT it to look like; prioritize aesthetics or practicality based on their personal preference. ⠀

Accessories are add-ons to your aid, rather than part of it. A cane could have ribbons wound around it if it's used by a magical girl, or a secret compartment stopper to hide notes in for a paranoid detective. A wheelchair might come with paragliding wings that open with a pullstring for a daredevil, canvas bags full of tools for a mechanic, or hubcaps that detach and can be thrown as weapons for a soldier. ⠀ For accessories, you're not necessarily thinking of "what can I add to this aid to make it special?" The process is better defined as "what would they want to have, and how can I merge the two in a way that's easy to use?" ⠀

Specializations are sort of a deeper combination of the two above features. They're a more advanced way of making your aids stand out, down to the materials they're comprised of or their intrinsic properties, that uniquely suit your character. They're typically hard to come by without being specially made, and can't be quickly modded in. ⠀ A spine brace being made of magic, living wood that grows to fill gaps when damaged would be available to a wood elf, and probably specially given to a warrior who WOULD damage it. A wheelchair made of magic-resistant metal could have use for a battlemage that can't turn to deflect spells quickly, or a witch hunter who wants immunity from the mages they're hunting. A cane that lights up when it senses radiation would be useful to a planetary explorer or warp drive mechanic, but not to a marine xenobiologist studying the starwhale population, who instead has a whalecall whistle built into theirs. ⠀ A specialized aid takes into account not only your character's wants and needs, but also their profession, their common risks, and occasionally their class—especially if you're using rare materials.

When you want to design an aid to be unique to your character, go through this checklist:

What do they want it to look like?

What would they want to add to it, and how do I make it convenient?

What would their setting offer them for their job or status?

What modifications would they have to seek out themselves, and would/could they?

Ask yourself these, and you're well on your way to making your disabled characters as varied as your abled ones.

Cheat code 1: How to avoid eliminating disability in your setting

Cheat Code 2: What kinds of aid to use to accommodate disability

Cheat Code 3: How to make your setting itself disability-friendly

#disability #writeblr #long post

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ciderjacks · 1 month

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ok I mentioned this earlier and people were sort of confused but I’m gonna try to explain why I think the long AND short lifespan issues were resolved by the end of dungeon meshi. WARNING: DUNMESHI SPOILERS AHEAD

Part 1: the lifespans aren’t natural

ok so I’m gonna start with that no I don’t think Marcille got her wish, at least not the way she wanted. Marcille wanted to bend the rules of nature so everyone would live an unnaturally long time. However, the lifespans that the races in dungeon meshi have (besides tall-men, but I’ll get to that later) are also not natural. They only had those lifespans because the winged lion was maintaining that lifespan for their race.

You can see at least 3 different races here that are asking for different life spans, what they’re asking for lines up with what the lifespans are.

the dwarf asked for immortality, the elf asked specifically for a thousand year life, the half foot heard this and said that was too long, and to make it shorter. The only ones who didn’t ask for a lifespan alteration were the (would be) tall-men. The lifespans aren’t natural, they’re caused by the demons magic…

part 2: so what of the demons magic?

This is I think the most explicit statement, that the demons magic, every wish the demon granted, is lost. This includes lifespans, one of the oldest wishes it granted. And I wanna highlight one thing she says specifically. “We have the luxury of time”. I don’t think that means a long life, I think it means the opposite. The narrative regards these lifespans as unnatural, destructive and soul sucking. The immortal townspeople are cursed, time doesn’t matter to them, and so they have no desires, or drive to continue. This is depicted by them finding food flavourless.

and when they no longer have immortality look at how they think of food. That is the luxury of time, not to avoid it, but to experience it. This is what the “long-lived” races must learn in the absence of the demon, now lacking the extra hundreds of years the demon had gifted them. That’s why it’s important that Marcille didn’t get her wish the way she wanted, because she wanted everyone to live forever. And speaking of Marcille’s wish.

She says she’s learned to embrace death, and not because of anything the demon did. She wanted to live forever with her friends, she didn’t want to confront death. With the demons magic gone, she no longer has the extra thousand years. She’s learning to accept her friends mortality, yes, but she’s also learning to accept her own.

part 3: the theme of accepting death

Like I said earlier, Marcille is afraid of death. So is Delgal/Yaad. The end of the story resolves their acceptance around death and dying. As much as Marcille wanted everyone else to live, there’s a reason she decided everyone should just live a thousand years. She doesn’t want to sacrifice her own lifespan, she wants infinite time with the people she loves. In the aftermath of the winged lion, she instead gets a much shorter amount of time. Delgal/Yaad is similar, in that he feared death. He says he was afraid of dying and losing everything, but now he’s ok with that reality, because the reality of an extended or eternal life was much worse.

part 4: the curse of living and the curse of living too long

To desire is to eat is to live. Our most primal instincts. The long lived races, while not immortal and desire-less, had an unnatural amount of time on their hands. They were able to forego their humanity because they’d been gifted all the time they wanted, which lead to fighting and oppression of the short lived races (which is why it’s important for Laios to be the king, even though the elves and dwarves have lost the demons magic. Their mindset at that point in time, is of people with too much time on their hands.)

When Falin speaks to the demon, stripped of all his desire, he describes living as cruel. From his perspective, humans have a limited time and a constant desire, sorrow and anxiety pressing at them. Yet, Falin says it’s delicious. The fear inherent to living is natural, it’s what makes life interesting, and so it’s thematically important that the magic allowing certain races to avoid this reality isn’t maintained. Marcille’s wish was based in truth, it was how she went about it that was wrong.

Part 5: the end of the racial power dynamic

Obviously the races and cultures are still different, they were different before the winged lion began granting wishes, and will remain different, however what the narrative tells us again and again is that the lifespans are equivalent to a power structure. Elves and dwarves are at the top, because they were granted long lives. This power structure is explicitly not natural, it’s not how the races should be, Ryoko Kui emphasizes this several times. So given this, I think it’s really important that at the end, when the demons magic is gone, all the races become one unit. There is no more power structure, is what this implies. One of humanities oldest desires, the desire to live eternally, is undone.

Ryoko Kui wanted to show that the racism and the power structures weren’t logical, and they weren’t natural, and now the people will have to navigate without those, without differences of lifespan, and without the ability to push away death.

part 6: conclusion

“Surely your kind exists for no reason but to starve” = “you exist for no reason but to die”

as Laios literally consumes life force itself, destroying the demon and destroying its magic. After he does this, the races are portrayed as one unit. The elves say that while magic isn’t gone, the demon’s and what came with it is, and that things will be different from thereon-out.

magic will continue to exist, but its been effectively reset, or unraveled, by the death of the demon.

the ability to live hundreds of years is lost, and while the winged lion, an eternal creature, thinks of this as a curse, to humans it’s a secret blessing. The impact of time is what keeps us going.

The structures set up by the ancient lifespan wishes are also undone. No race should get to live longer than any other, humans shouldn’t have unnatural structures like that. It disrupts the natural flow of living. Thats the resolution to the lifespan issue. Not “Marcille has to accept that she’s going to live an unnaturally long life”, but “Marcille has to accept that no one should have that much time, including her”. That’s why I think the lifespan issue is resolved when the demon dies. Thanks for reading, if you managed to read all of this.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #media analysis #dunmeshi analysis

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felassan · 3 days

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Snippets. 🐺💜

The Game Informer article approximately covered the first 4 hours of the game. [source]

Twitter user: "Please please please let me make a feminine shaped body with no chest, begging for non-binary to be something I can present not just a pronoun slap" Saira: "this will be entirely possible with the body sliders!" [source]

''the characters you don’t romance WILL romance each other which can showcase different straight and queer relationships.'' [source] (So it's not only Harding/Taash, but more companion-companion pairings will be possible, and these will be diverse? ^^)

the game will have Brazilian Portuguese subtitles [source].

the community Council, which had long-term fans of the series on it, also had folks on it who had never played a DA game before [source] (this is good! a good mix)

another detail was that they ranged in age from 20s-40s, unfortunately I can't recall the source for this rn but yea.

"Last names are based on your faction. You can customize your first name, however." [source: the BioWare Discord]

"In-world - Rook is a nickname you're given before the events of the game, and it's what everyone refers to you as. It allows for other characters to refer to you in dialogue without awkwardly having to write around not having a defined title, while still allowing for name customization." Also, in the game, it is explained why we got the nickname Rook in the past. [source: the BioWare Discord]

"There are specific lines and dialogue options for different lineages, as well as different backgrounds, and classes, including at least a handful that are unique to lineage/background combinations. No specifics but we wanted to make sure the game felt reactive to the choices you made in creating your Rook." [source: the BioWare Discord] (lineage as in: human, elf, dwarf, qunari)

A user asked whether elven Rook is Dalish or City. Answer: "It'll depend on your background. As mentioned previously, certain lineages will have variations of that background that go into more detail where appropriate." [source: the BioWare Discord]

"Every faction is, ultimately, made up of people. Some good, some bad, and some trying (and failing) to do their best. So it's fair to say that different people in the world might have a different perspective on how the various factions fit in and what they're trying to do." [source: the BioWare Discord]

"Without getting into spoiler territory - Rook's a hero because they chose to be, not because they were chosen. Your choice of background fills in some of the details - and you get opportunities to define it further - but some things we leave up to you to fill in." [source: the BioWare Discord]

A user asked "In what capacity is the Inquisitor going to return? Can we expect something similar to Hawke’s return in Inquisition?" Answer: "This one you'll just have to wait and see as this is well into serious spoiler territory. But more generally, as I said in the Q&A - the Inquisitor's been part of this story all along, and it would be very strange for them to suddenly fall out of it."

"Much of what would have been abilities or “spells” in the past are now accessed in real-time from the core buttons on the controller! Mana Shield, Mage Beam, Bolts, Magical Blasts, Orb Toss, and Elemental Bomb. Not to mention the elemental types change depending on your weapon. It very much feels like casting spells, but don’t just take my word for it. I’m excited to show more Mage gameplay as we get closer to launch." [source] There will be quick buttons on the keyboard for PC people too. [source]

The Veil Ranger spec can be built around charged ranged attacks, lightning damage, and stagger [source]

Many builds are possible in the game and this is highly variable with gear and companion-set up [source]

At some point this summer, they will be showing more of the skill trees [source]

The music score has variation, flourishes, and great tavern songs [source]

Corinne: "everyone at EA has been incredible in their support for the game and commitment to quality. Hopefully we’ll have a chance to do it [Discord Q&A] again. In the meantime I watch the Discord comments fairly regularly, even if I don’t respond often." [source]

A user asked about cameos of previous characters. "Seeing the surprise appearances for the first time is half the fun! There are some good ones, but I’ll leave the discoveries to you all" [source]

On a post of the table team gathering picture - Corinne: "The moments where you gather the whole team like this are some of my favorites." [source]

When Solas shot Bianca during the prologue during SGF, "Some of the journalists in the live demo audibly gasped!" [source]

In combat there are primers and detonators [source]

Lots of beloved elements from previous DA games inspired the combat of DA:TV [source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #lgbtq #long post #longpost #solas

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feyascorner · 6 months

Text

4 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Astarion, if anything, you are sure is a liar. It’s impossible to tell what he’s truly thinking and whether his words hold an ounce of truth. You just wish you’d been an exception.

With lidded eyes locked with your own in a trance you can’t break ahold of, he sinks his teeth into her neck.

You’re at a complete loss of words, and you feel nothing but shame knowing that rather than the distaste you should feel, you feel something else.

Bitter. Not jealous, no, not quite, but really damn bitter.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 7.6k words,,, but have a bit of Astarion POV somewhere in here featuring Gale!!

You’re dying again.

But rather than the usual nightmare consisting of him pinning you to the ground with his hands on your throat, he’s standing above you. In that dark alleyway a week ago, where the spawn had nearly taken your life. The ground feels muddy again, and despite there being nothing at your neck, you still can’t breathe.

And then, you’re alive again, lurching up from your mattress with sweaty skin sticking your nightwear to your body. After your eyes adjust to the bright sunlight flooding into your room through the window, you sigh.

You want to ask if he’d been real. If he’d truly been there that night, saving your life against the spawn despite his words just the other night. Despite the stomach-churning way, he looks at you.

Hope is a dangerous thing.

It doesn’t take you long to get ready. When you clamber out your door, your eyes glaze over his own, standing still as a rock just beside yours. Even though you know he’s right there, just a wooden door away, it doesn’t feel like it at all. He feels like an illusion—perhaps a ghost to haunt you for what you’d done to him. He’s been here for days now, and somehow, you feel further from him than you did when he was just a shadow of your past. Lingering. Driving you mad.

In some ways, this is worse.

Especially with the way your last interaction concluded, you’d expect yourself to feel nothing but negative turmoil for him. Yet, with the dreams haunting you every night and the endless afternoons you spend wallowing in your experiences with him in the past, it’s hard to do so.

Even more so when the terrifying force of hope grabs hold of you like a shackle to the heart.

You’re not sure if what you saw that night as an angel was really him or if you were simply hallucinating as a last-ditch attempt to console your imminent death. You hope—no, you question if he’d been the one to save you and fetch the Fist. Unfortunately, you have nobody to ask, as none of your other companions seem aware that you’d “seen” Astarion at death’s doorstep and the embarrassment that floods you intends to keep it that way.

It had to be him, surely. Why else would he have been at Elfsong Tavern that same exact day? Why else had Petras seen him the night before that, murdering that blond elf seconds after you’d been there?

Astarion, if anything, you are sure is a liar. He’s like this by nature, like an instinct resulting from the centuries spent under Cazador’s dreadful rule. It’s impossible to tell what he’s truly thinking and whether his words hold an ounce of truth. You just wish you’d been an exception.

‘Did you save me? Why?’ you want to ask desperately. You curse your past self for ending your last conversation that way. You’d hoped it would’ve at least gone a bit better.

“Perhaps we should throw him back in the Duke’s dungeon,” Lae’zel grumbles, tearing at her piece of bread as she sits on the armchair in the living space downstairs. Why she prefers such stale food is beyond you. “That istik is clearly not helping.”

“Give him time,” you mumble, thankful that at this time of morning, most of the house is still asleep. Only you or Lae’zel seem to be awake at the break of dawn. “We don’t have much of a choice anyway, given nobody else we know is a vampire spawn.”

“I’ve already given him tenfold the time I wish to give him. If it were up to me, he’d already be dead.”

“He is dead.”

She doesn’t laugh. You snort and reach to the cabinet, where instead of your usual supplies, you find a bottle. The crimson liquid at the bottom is scarce, but there’s just enough for a few more sips if you ration it right, which is what you assume he’s been doing, considering he hasn’t asked once to go hunting.

You wonder if he’s feasted on the necks of poor beautiful maidens in the city, captured by his charm and lured to an untimely end. You imagine their long, silky hair falling across their face as they bare their necks for his teeth, wincing the first few moments they sink down. But afterward, it would feel intimate—close, even—as he lets their blood sully his own. And once he finally pulls away with a piece of their lifeline, he’d grin down at them with stained lips painting them like lipstick…

Your brows furrow, but not for them. You seriously hope he just fed on goblins, or something along those lines. You’d even look past gnomes.

“T’chaki. Whatever disgusting thoughts you’re having, I suggest you stop,” Lae’zel snaps, and you blink. “And put that bottle away. You look like you want to devour it yourself.”

You do so sheepishly. “Please tell Gale to take Astarion to the forest to gather more blood. He’ll starve to death at this rate.”

“That would be ideal. Though I wouldn’t have the pleasure of putting my own sword through his chest.”

Your frown is visibly apparent, and it deepens her own. “Such a declaration shouldn’t displease you. My people believe an attempt at murder is enough to declare war. You should be trying to kill him, should you not? He is hshar’lak.”

“For the last time, I’m not going to-”

“She’s right, you know. As rare as that is,” you nearly jump at the cleric’s voice, though Lae’zel only glares. She’s leaning on the doorway, chewing on a half-eaten apple. “I won’t force him to leave, but I do hope you seriously reconsider your decision to harbor a vampire spawn. We trusted him once, and it didn’t end so well. I’d prefer avoiding making the same mistake again.”

He saved me, you want to say. The words are on the tip of your tongue before you reel them back, sealing them into your own heart. “Why are you awake so early?”

“We’re out of supplies,” she says. “I’m going to the market. Care to tag along? I wouldn’t hate the company.”

Your eyes flicker to the stairs as if expecting something, but you force yourself back to your companions and nod. “Alright.”

He was a magistrate.

At least, that’s what he remembers. His memories of the days before his heart stopped beating are fuzzy, like they’re muffled by water as he drowns in the unending 200 years of torture. Even without Cazador, even after stabbing through his corpse a dozen times, it doesn’t feel enough. It will never be enough.

He hears the front door open downstairs and finds himself lowering his book a tad to peer down outside the window his bed is pressed up against. You clamber out, stumbling over yourself as you tie your boots halfway through the door. He can hear you calling into the house through the thin glass panes. “Apples, pork loin, what else?”

“Bread and cheese!” another shout downstairs. It’s the cleric, he deems from the tone of her voice.

“Right, right,” you snort, waiting for her to catch up with you.

His eyes don’t leave you as you make your way down the street, eventually vanishing as you round a corner leading to the main marketplace of the city. And when you’re finally gone, his attention flits back to his book, rereading the page for what feels like the millionth time.

He likes reading—as much as he can, anyway—when he’s not hunting or running from the sun as if it’ll chase him down even in the shadows. He has three books. And if someone were to ask, he’d be able to recite them all by memory.

He had a fourth one, once. One you’d gifted him, but no longer does he want it. It sits under the bed, gathering dust for what he hopes to be forever.

He hasn’t spoken to you in days, and he expects nothing less. He hasn’t spoken to anyone, really, only receiving glares from Shadowheart, ignored by Lae’zel, and—well, Gale, he supposes, offers conversation, but Astarion’s the one to avoid those particular interactions. The wizard’s absence is not the only one he’s grateful for.

Yours, for one, after how your last conversation ended, is not one he wants to risk another of. Yet, the past few days, despite never daring to approach him, he’s seen you looking from afar with the eyes of a kicked pup. But the second he comes too close, your guard is up again, your words curt, and sentences abruptly ending in his presence. Only when you think he doesn’t notice do your true feelings surface in this pathetic display. He almost pities you.

Unfortunately, in all the realms of words he’s described himself as he has never considered himself a sympathetic person.

He revels in your obsession with him. One that he will no longer reciprocate.

He glances at the empty jar of blood on the bedside table and clenches his jaw.

A hefty bit of time later, when he’s sure most have left the home, he climbs down the stairs where the first floor is still overtaken with darkness. The curtains have been put up in a clumsy manner, but they do their job efficiently enough, as he’s allowed to pace across the wooden floors and reaches for a drawer beside the sink. There’s a glass bottle of animal blood inside–it’s running dangerously low.

“You look awfully drained.”

Astarion fights the urge to groan at Gale’s voice.

“If that’s your attempt at vampiric humor, I hope you’re aware it would only have hungry spawns lunging for your neck,” he shoots back, snatching the bottle and popping it open with a swift move of his thumb and lifting it to his lips. He drinks, gulping down whatever’s left. While on any other occasion, he’d feel appalled at not even using a goblet, his hunger has been itching at him for days, now. If he didn’t know how foul Gale’s blood tasted, he might’ve even considered the damned wizard.

“I’m warning you, I taste positively terrible.” Ah, he must have been staring.

“I assure you, I’d more likely scout the city for rats before drinking another drop of your blood,” Astarion retorts back, setting down the glass bottle. “Now, please hurry and tell me what in the hells you want before I escape for those aforementioned rats.”

“Adjusting well to your life here, I presume?”

Astarion stares at him like he grew a second head.

“I was jesting.”

“You do a poor job at it.”

Gale sighs irritably. “You haven’t come downstairs in days; we’d thought you were dead already…again.”

“I’d rather not be in the presence of multiple people who appear ready to lop off my head at any moment,” Astarion snaps. “As much as I’d love decapitation for my cause of death, now is not the right time for such events.”

Neither of them laugh.

“The others…” Gale takes his time talking as if he’s searching for words that aren’t there, and it makes Astarion’s eye twitch. “You understand why they’re apprehensive about you being here. In all honesty, I am too.”

The spawn’s brows knit together, and he rolls his eyes. “Whether or not they want me here, it was their choice to keep me trapped in this bloody house. Even when I insisted I didn’t know a damned thing about what my dear siblings were up to, your leader chose to “take responsibility” for me...whatever that means. So by all means, Gale, just open the door for me, let them know I won’t be returning, and you’ll never see me again.”

Astarion expects him to yell at him, snap at him, maybe even cast a spell, but he expects him to do something with the words that spill out of his mouth like vomit. But instead, the wizard opens his mouth, shuts it again, and seems to be in thought. “I haven’t heard you talk for so long in ages. Nice to know your endlessly running mouth is still there.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He snorts, his eyes flitting to the curtains messily nailed onto the wood surrounding the windows, and Astarion can see his face fall. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you go, for I’ve made a promise with Tav to check in on you in place of themselves…and the others, of course. And I may be a man of many words, but I am not a man of lies.”

Astarion almost laughs at the irony. “Is that what hiding the bomb in your chest was? Honesty?”

“Oh, please,” he waves him off. “That was eons ago! And besides, I’ve got that all sorted now, so no more eating magical pairs of shoes…thank the Gods. Though the magical enhanced gems weren’t so bad-”

“Please tell me someone other than yourself will be hovering over me like a parasite.”

“I’m afraid not,” Gale smiles. “Lae’zel wouldn’t hesitate for a vampire head hanging over the fireplace, Shadowheart would most likely place a curse on you, and Tav rarely comes home at all. So, unfortunately, and also most fortunately, you are stuck with yours truly.”

Astarion groans. And though he’s about to shoot him with another quip, the front door swings open, and Shadowheart steps into the house. When she notices him standing beside the kitchen, her body visibly tenses.

“You’re supposed to stay in your room.”

“I’m also not supposed to starve to death in that room, as much as I’m sure you’d approve of that.”

Her gaze flickers to the empty bottle of blood, and immediately, her face hardens. She narrows her eyes, and Gale, as usual, steps forward. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not get too hasty-”

“If you are ever starving to death,” she glares. “You best hope not Tav is the only person around. If you ever even ask them for their blood again, I’ll show you just how much blood you have stored up.”

Astarion scoffs, grinning. “Such a terrifying foe you are. But there truly is no need to worry so much. I don’t need their blood, and I never intend to ask them for a single drop again. Not anymore.”

Shadowheart looks only half convinced, but after a moment of contemplation, the atmosphere turns less rigid, and she sighs, stepping backward. “I really did not miss having a vampire in our home.”

He’s about to let out another condescending laugh when he hears a shift in the dirt outside the open door. Neither of the others seems to notice. “And for the record, if you ask me for blood, you’ll end up even worse.”

Right then, he watches you step into the house, arms stuffed with paper bags filled to the brim with fruits, meat, and bread, and you nearly stumble on your own legs as you try to guide yourself to the kitchen counter. “Did we really need this much for just a week?”

“Of course we did. My famed stew is not made so haphazardly, you know. It requires skills, talents, and lots and lots of patience-”

You finally set down the groceries and notice Astarion’s presence in the room. He knows you do because of the way your posture straightens, becoming more guarded. It makes the corner of his lips lift in a way that’s sure to make you uneasy.

But when your gazes finally meet briefly, you turn away as if it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

His eyes widen. Did you just ignore him?

He shifts, just enough to catch your attention, but all you do is listen to Gale’s ramble about his bloody stew. He’s sure nobody on Faerun gives a damn about his soup at this very moment, and you're no exception. Yet you’re clearly preferring his words over Astarion’s glares in such a blatant display.

You are ignoring him.

“Moving on,” Shadowheart groans. “We’re going to investigate the families of the spawn victims. We’ll let you know if we find anything. Oh, and tell Lae’zel she needs to move her weapons out of the living room before I throw them into the sewers myself.”

Gale shudders. “I’ll tell her, but certainly not those exact words.”

Astarion’s eyes follow you the whole time as you wait for Shadowheart at the door, hand holding a sheet of paper which he assumes to be the list of victim families. And the entire time, you refuse to even look in his direction.

It evokes something in him. He’s not sure what, but it does. Annoyance, he supposes.

Gale finally turns to him when you and Shadowheart shut the door closed behind you. “Now you and I can get groceries for you…as long as it’s only animals, of course.”

Another hour with the wizard might drain him of what remains of his life force (which is very little considering that he’s dead), and he thinks a few hours might just be the cause of his perishing.

There are too many bodies. Too much blood that reminds you of the evil that you believed was dealt with. Their families weep, and you can do nothing but stand to the side, watching as they claw at the Fist’s uniforms, begging to know what could be done. Begging to see their loved ones again.

You feel selfish, almost. Having finally seen your own former beloved, you only allow yourself to watch from afar, afraid of getting any closer.

So you’d escaped the town square, fleeing to the roofs where you could properly assess any potential victims’ families and determine if they were even worth approaching in the emotional wreck they were in. The list of bodies nearly crumples under the crushing weight of your own hands. The silence looming across the rooftop patio is far more relaxing than the chaos below.

Well, save for the company perched beside you.

“So what’s with your lyre?” Alfira blinks. “Where is it?”

“Sold it.”

“Why? That’s such a waste!” she frowns, rubbing at a smudge on her own instrument. “It was made of such fine wood too…I do hope you didn’t undersell that beauty.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe I should’ve sold it to you at a higher price.”

“If not your lyre…” she tilts her head, scooching her stool closer to yours. “Then what are you playing nowadays?”

“I don’t play anything.”

Her eyes widen. “You don’t play anything? What does that mean?”

“I quit, Alfira,” you sigh, finally turning to look at her. “I’m not technically a bard anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Once you’re a bard, there’s no backing out of it. It’s in your very blood,” she explains, lifting her own lyre to you. “Go on, play something. I know you have it somewhere in you.”

Your face falls at her offer, but she remains firm, urging you to go on. It’s only when you realize she has no intentions of ignoring your words that you finally take the lyre into your own hands. It feels too foreign. It’s not your own instrument, but it’s a different kind of familiarity than that. While your fingers used to itch to sing their tales, you now feel nothing, just an empty husk of what once burst with inspiration.

Still, you try, even if just for show. Your finger tugs at one of the strings, letting it snap and vibrate its hum. You try another and another, but they’re all disjointed, barely managing to hold on to one another before your brows furrow, and you drop your hand. It just doesn’t feel right.

You hold it back to her. “I told you.”

“Well,” she looks down at her lyre. “I’m sure even the greatest bards have struggled with their music from time to time. It’s just a bump in the road.”

No, you want to tell her. It’s the end of the road, and there’s nothing you could possibly do to solve it, because you’ve already tried it all.

“Here, I started a new song,” she smiles hopefully. “Maybe it might spark your own musical talents. Care to listen?”

While a part of you is hesitant, the way she excitedly clutches onto the lyre makes you relent. “Sure.”

She begins to sing, and even if it’s better than it had been when you last saw her in the grove, it’s shaky. You suppose she must always be like this when producing a new song, at least until she grows accustomed to it. Still, it fills the air with a calm melody and drowns out the sounds coming from below on the streets, which you’re grateful for.

The breeze feels nice on your skin. You let your shoulders drop, closing your eyes as you drink in the notes produced by her lyre.

“I don’t need their blood, and I never intend to ask them for a single drop. Not anymore.”

The words echo in your head. It shouldn’t hurt you, really, you didn’t intend on giving it to him anyway, but a sick part of you wishes he could’ve at least asked, and you could’ve been the one to reject him. Not the other way around.

It feels like getting rejected for a confession you never made.

You blame yourself for eavesdropping.

“So? What do you think so far?”

You barely register that her song has ended, forcing you to focus back on the bustling city below. With a clear of your throat, you nod. “It’s good, it’s just…”

Her eyes seem to glow as she leans towards you, curious to hear your next words. Why she has so much faith in your advice is beyond you. You’d helped her with her last song, but it’d just been a stroke of luck that you managed to capture the emotions she wanted to convey through its notes. It certainly did not help that you hadn’t touched an instrument in months. “...Nevermind. I’m not sure what I was trying to say there.”

Her smile drops, and she holds her lute closer to her chest, nodding. “I see. It’s a shame.”

What she’s referring to, you’re not sure.

She digs through her pocket, managing to scrape out a crumpled sheet of paper which she puts on your lap. You do your best to make out the words messily scribbled on the sheet, which you determine to be the unfinished song. While you shoot her a wary look, she pushes the paper back to you when you attempt to offer it back.

“I have faith in you. More than anyone else, for a song like this,” she smiles. “You don’t have to help me finish the song like last time. Just absorb it. At least read the lyrics for me, will you?”

You want to say no, but you end up pocketing the sheet instead.

After you say your farewells, leaving her to continue humming to herself, you regroup with Shadowheart. Your own spirit falls when judging from her expression, she’s had even less success than you.

“We’re going around in circles,” Shadowheart sighs beside you. “None of the families know anything, and as much I’d love to stay an hour at each house to console them, at this rate, we’ll die of old age before finding these spawn…are you listening?”

You blink, snapping back into attention as you turn to her. “Did you say something?”

She raises a brow at you. “And what are you so distracted for?”

Mourning something that hasn’t happened, but you don’t tell her that. “It’s nothing.”

She doesn’t appear convinced, but neither does she pry. You’ve always had a mutual understanding with her when it came to one another’s secrets—don’t push. And even when either of you want to, you stay true to your silent agreement. You’re grateful for it at times like these.

Suddenly, there’s a bump to the left of you, not enough to make you stumble, but enough to make you glance back. They’re small, and you assume they’re a halfling or dwarf, despite their shoulders seeming too narrow. However, you forget about the details when your eyes hone in on their bare feet, absent of any shoes, much less socks. Something is wrong. Very wrong. When you look back up, you barely catch the way their hand slips back into their cloak, and immediately, your own flies into your pocket, where you’re now missing your dagger.

Shit.

You break into a sprint, forced to ignore Shadowheart, who calls out for you from behind, as you try to chase the hooded figure who swerves through the crowd of people on the street. Despite the people who curse and hiss as you shove through them, you’re only barely managing to tail the small cloaked figure, and in no such world are you willing to lose that dagger under circumstances that are not your own.

It’s pathetic, you know, to hold on to such a small part of him for so long. You’re sure he’s thrown away all of your own belongings, so why hold onto the dagger he kept strapped to his chest for months, holding it near his heart? You reckon this may be a blessing brought upon the gods who pity you, and you ponder if they’re watching you now, laughing at your pathetic display of desperation.

Still, you refuse to let it go like this.

The figure turns an alley, and your feet pick up. It’s a dead end.

You screech to a halt, slipping out a smaller blade that glints in the light allowed to seep into the isolated corner, eyes narrowed. The figure stands with its back to the wall, and you gawk at the way their shoulders shake as if they’re laughing to themselves. “Give it back, thief.”

They don’t budge, only continuing to tremble, and eventually, you’ve had enough. You march toward them, yanking back their hood with your knife, readied to retaliate if they dare, but immediately, your face pales. At the same time, Shadowheart finally manages to catch up to you.

“Hells, this crowd is a disaster,” she hisses, dusting off her shoulders. Then she shoots you a frown, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the supposed thief. “Whose child is that?”

You realize she hadn’t been laughing but shaking from fear.

She’s tiny. Unnaturally frail for her age which you guess to be around 9 or 10, which you note before letting her go from the grasp you have on her cloak. And from up close, you see that her bottom lip has been gnawed raw, still red from the last time it bled. She’s grasping onto your dagger for dear life, looking up at you with wary wide eyes, and you find your face relaxing. You bend down on one knee so you’re not just staring down at her, sighing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, really.”

Her trembling eases a bit, but her grip around your dagger tightens. In her hands, it almost looks like a sword. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry. I swear, I didn’t mean to.”

Shadowheart steps to stand beside you. “Please tell me this child isn’t yours?”

“No, of course not!” you snap, and she snickers. You roll your eyes and turn back to the girl. “I won’t hurt you; I swear my life on it. But I need that dagger you’re holding.”

She hesitates, her eyes desperately searching for honesty in yours.

“It’s—important to me,” you mumble sheepishly. “Please.”

You watch her glance between you and the blade in her hands multiple times, then slowly reach it out to you. You offer her a smile, sheathing it beside your hip once more. You feel whole again. “Thank you. Now, I won’t tell your parents this time, but you really can’t go around stealing people’s things–”

“Berry!” she blurts.

You blink, and she picks at her own hands. “I live with Miss Cora.”

The puzzle pieces click in place.

“You’re the one Cora has to lull to sleep.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you regret them with how her cheeks puff and paint her face a light shade of pink.

“You’re one of the orphans, then, I presume,” Shadowheart crosses her arms. “Any reason why you’re lurking in the city—without shoes, might I add—and robbing people of their belongings?”

“I wasn’t trying to steal,” she insists, then meets your eyes. “I didn’t know how else to talk to you alone.”

“Alone? With me? Why?”

“I know where Roger—I mean, Miss Cora’s husband went that night,” she looks down. “I didn’t know who else to tell. I wasn’t supposed to be out…but I needed fresh air. And…And I saw…”

You hold your breath. “Where did he go?”

“It was the Blushing Mermaid,” she splutters. “He went and never came back. I-I can’t tell Miss Cora…If I do, she’ll hate me and kick me out. I can’t leave, so please, don’t tell her.”

Shadowheart leans to your ear. “That’s not possible. He couldn’t have been there.”

No, you think. You’d been there. You’d been at the Blushing Mermaid that night, and while you weren’t exactly in the best state of mind, you surely couldn’t have missed a literal murder taking place. Regardless, you shake away your lingering doubts and take her shoulders.

“We won’t,” you assure her. “For now, I need you to go back to Miss Cora. It’s not safe in the city by yourself right now.”

She wipes at the tears threatening to spill from her eyes with her arm and nods firmly, readjusting her hood and cloak so that her entire body is covered once more. You place a hand on her head.

“Thanks for telling me, Berry. I’ll find out who did this to Roger, and you’ll be the first person to know,” You manage the best smile you can at the moment. “And please, next time, just tap my shoulder.”

Her lips purse, and she flees to the Highberry residence.

“Well,” Shadowheart finally uncrosses her arms. “At least we have a lead now. It was starting to feel hopeless—though I’m not sure if this is a lead at all.”

Regardless of your own doubts, time is running out. Every night you spend with no progress is another waste of nearly a dozen lives in the city. So you shove aside your skepticism and sigh. “It can’t hurt to try.”

“What do you mean he just left?” Lae’zel seems just about ready to stab her sword through Gale’s chest, and you can’t bring yourself to blame her.

“I’m telling you, he just vanished! Into the thin air, nearly,” Gale groans in exasperation, throwing up his arms. “We were returning from the forest after his hunt, and I didn’t even look away. One second he was there, and the next-”

“He’s a rogue, you foolish wizard,” the githyanki hisses, and you cross your arms beside her, offering Gale no sympathy. “We must go search for him, drag him back, and keep him pinned to a wall with a spear.”

At this, you balk. “Well, no, we’re not going to-”

“And you,” she spins around to you. “You must stop defending the spawn over your unreciprocated feelings. Your urges to make love may remain, but his does not.”

Your face flares, and you hear Gale nearly drop the book he’d been holding.

“I am not—”

“It’s painfully obvious to the rest of us. It’s been days since he joined us, and all of us must deal with your imploring eyes while he seems promptly set on ruining every conversation any of us have with one another,” she continues, and as such, in Lae’zel fashion, she does not hold back the sting of her words. “I am indebted to what you’ve done for me, and for that, I cannot stand aside and watch you reduce yourself to this lovesick mutt over a bloodsucking leech.”

Gale clears his throat. “Lae’zel, now I believe that’s more than enough to-”

“Seal that mouth of yours, wizard, before I rid of it for good.”

He does so immediately.

You stare at her, appalled at her words. Imploring eyes? Lovesick mutt? You don’t even want to mention the bloodsucking leech comment. All you can do is keep yourself from opening your mouth, in fear that something that sounds dangerously close to defending Astarion might escape against your will.

A smart choice, as Lae’zel sighs, her patience wearing thin.

“You are a warrior. One of the most formidable I’ve come across,” she scowls. “Do not disappoint me this way. You do not owe him anything. That kainyank is the one who nearly took your life.”

A part of your heart cracks. You ignore the stinging in your palms as your nails dig into them, unsure what you’re even supposed to say at this point, and you fumble over your own words dying to escape your throat. Because you do owe him something. Because if your suspicions are true, you do owe him for the night you encountered the spawn, and the night before that, when you came across Petras. Being indebted to him feels like another battle in itself, and you’re not sure if you want it to be true or not. You don’t have the heart to tell her that.

So instead, you snatch your dagger from where you’d last placed it down and march for the door.

“Tav, please, don’t leave like this,” Gale reaches for your arm, but you yank it away.

“I’m going to bring him back,” you say, but it’s more of a demand. A tone you rarely use toward your own companions, but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

Lae’zel hisses as you’re halfway out the door. “You are a fool to be unable to see that he does not care for you.”

He had saved you. A person who does not care about you does not bother to save you.

You clutch the dagger close to your heart, and you ignore how cold it feels in your hand.

By the time you’ve run through most places he could possibly be, you finally arrive at the Sharess’ Caress, panting as you stare up at the taunting aura of the building. You don’t know how many hours have passed since you left the house–-perhaps days, or even minutes, but every second feels like a million more than it should. You push through the door, barely managing to catch your breath, as you’re immediately greeted with the aroma of a thousand different perfumes.

The fumes make you scrunch your nose, and you’re quickly slammed into the last memory of entering this place. The woman at the front desk, the windows draped with curtains to prevent most if not all the light spilling into its halls, the music echoing from the more private rooms for personal viewing…

You hate it all.

“Ah, savior, you’re back!” a voice says, and you flinch at it. One of the drow twins, Nym, waves you toward her, but you don’t budge. “It’s been months since you last rejected my advances, hasn’t it? I suppose you couldn’t resist yourself and came back-”

“Where is he,” you spit, your voice wavering. You don’t mean to be rude to her, truly, but your patience is close to nothing, and you don’t know how much longer you can go before you have to take a rest and return to the house in shame. At the very least, you have to drag Astarion back with you.

She pauses, then motions upstairs. It seems she understands the urgency in your tone because she steps out of the way, urging you forward. So with a nod of acknowledgment, you march up the stairs towards one of the more luxurious private rooms.

Door after door, you’re greeted with an empty room. Only when you come to the final room do you hold your breath, fist nearly shaking from merely knowing he’s on the other side. Lae’zel’s words echo in your head like an insistent tadpole, unable to force it to leave or quiet down. You opt to overrule it with the sound of the door swinging open.

There’s a woman.

Though you manage to release your breath when you see that she’s fully clothed, the collar of her shirt is pulled back, revealing her neck for the spawn who has his fangs bared inches from her skin. She doesn’t seem to notice you despite the ruckus you made entering the room, too lost in the man in front of her, but he does. His attention flickers to you and stays there, not showing an ounce of surprise as if he expected you here.

With lidded eyes locked with your own in a trance you can’t break ahold of, he sinks his teeth into her neck.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he drinks and all you can do is stare in disgust, eyes wide but your legs unwilling to unplant themselves from the wooden floors. Your sandwich from earlier threatens to hurl the other way, and your nails dig into the skin of your palms, nearly breaking the skin. You’re at a complete loss of words, and you feel nothing but shame knowing that rather than the distaste you should feel, you feel something else.

Bitter. Not jealous, no, not quite, but really damn bitter.

He tears away from her neck, blood staining his lips as you remain planted in the ground. The woman gasps, and her hands fly up to her neck. Even now, he’s only staring at you.

“Thank you, dear customer,” she rasps gratefully, despite how pale she looks. He doesn’t even acknowledge her until he wants her out.

“You can leave now.”

She looks back and forth between you and him, surely noticing how he doesn’t seem remotely fazed at how you’re glaring daggers at him and nods, scrambling to leave.

The door shuts with a loud thud.

You watch him reach to wipe at his mouth, your voice hollow and cold. “Are you done?”

“Clearly, seeing as I made her leave.”

“We agreed that you wouldn’t drink from people.”

“We agreed I wouldn’t drink from people in the house,” he corrects, pacing toward the window where the moonlight had illuminated him as he drank from the woman’s neck. “I kept my word.”

He leans against the windowsill, and you take a step toward him, still keeping a hefty distance. “She’ll report you to the Duke. My word won’t be much help if he insists to throw you in a cell.”

“This is a house of pleasure, my dear. Nothing gets out of here if you have enough gold,” he laughs, throwing his head back. “How else do you think I’ve been getting my share of blood if I hadn’t gone around murdering the innocent?”

Your teeth grit together, eyes narrowed as you scan the state he’s in. Despite appearing nearly dead just hours earlier, his skin now seems to glow against the moon, the bags under his eyes having gone missing and leaving a wide grin on his face instead. If this was a few months ago, you’d admire him, but not now. You want to punch it off.

“You don’t look happy, darling,” he fakes a frown and makes his way closer to you. You swear your heart stops for a moment when he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. “Is it that woman? Are you jealous?”

You slap his hand away.

“Gods, is this all a game to you?” you blurt in exasperation. “I’m trying to understand you, Astarion, I really am. And all you keep doing is–”

“There is nothing to understand. This is just who I am.”

“I’m not a fool. Will you, for once in your life, please drop this mask and just talk to me?”

“What in the hells makes you so sure I’m lying? I must have made quite the impression on you when we still considered ourselves allies.”

You try not to flinch at that.

“You were there that night,” you say, but it comes out like a question. “When I was attacked by the other spawn. And the night before that with that guy from the tavern. You killed him without even drinking his blood.”

At this, the tone of your conversation shifts, at least from his end. His eyes darken as you take a step back. “Who told you that?”

“Petras.”

He seems taken aback for a moment but quickly recovers. You wish you could do the same. And the laugh that escapes his throat sounds like he pities you. “My dear, I didn’t realize you were so naive.”

You blink.

“He’s deceived you, I’m afraid. Probably covering for his own arse to stay on your good side. What spawn would want to risk pissing off an adventurer capable of killing a vampire lord? In the time we were apart, I’ve done everything in my power to avoid you at all costs. You can see why, can’t you?” he gestures to the air between you. “I mean, look at us, darling. We’re no good around each other.”

It hurts more than you’d like to admit, but your stubborn streak forces you to keep going. “That night with the spawn-”

“I must say that I’m rather flattered that I was the last thing you saw at the hands of death,” he laughs, and it sends shivers down your spine. “But I’m afraid that too was a gift from death. I, myself, had no part in it.”

“But why were you there then?” you’re starting to sound desperate. You want to slap your hand over your mouth but something tells you that would be even more humiliating. “Why were you with the Duke in the morning?”

“I was captured by the Duke days before he brought me to you. He spent the time interrogating me, and in the end, I gave him nothing, as I will do with you. I only found out about your—predicament when he did, and he decided you’d fare better in gathering information I do not have.”

You would’ve preferred to die in battle than to feel the crushing feeling of your own chest. You want to curl up in a hole and never crawl out.

“Now, is that all?” he asks, drinking in your defeat like a trophy he wished he could place on the top shelf of a glass cabinet. “Any other accusations you have to throw at me?”

Lae’zel had been right. Shadowheart had been right. All of them had been right, except for you. This was far more than you could handle, and you had been foolish to think otherwise. The hope you held onto now dwindles into a small flame that can easily be blown out by a few selective words--those of which he has full authority over.

“Have you always been this cruel?” Tears threaten to well in your eyes, but you force them back, veiling them with all the strength left in your voice. Now, you just sound angrier. “You’ve never been a good man, but you weren’t a heartless one either.” You wonder if maybe that was a lie as well. The loving words, the soft touches, the gentle eyes. That perhaps the guise you’d thought you’d seen through was not a guise at all.

“Is that what it was then?” his face falls. “Did you stop the ritual to keep a feeble man by your side?”

Feeling is not weakness, you want to scream at him, but you know it'll do no good.

“Ascension would have changed you, and it’s not for the better. You know what Raphael said. I just did what I had to for the sake of your safety.”

“Power would have made me safe. From the world, from the sun, from people like you. Now I rot away in this destroyed city with nothing to feed on but stolen cattle and rats.”

“You’re not listening to me. You would’ve lost your soul, and become like Cazador–”

His composure cracks at that. “Don’t you dare speak of that devil.”

“Don’t give me reasons to.”

The air is thick enough to slice with your dagger. With squinted eyes, he scans your face before continuing slowly.

“Darling,” despite the term of endearment, it doesn’t sound endearing at all. “You are searching for sympathy from a man who does not have any left to give.”

“You did have sympathy,” you hiss. “With Yenna, with Shadowheart, with the owlbear, with Lae’zel, Karlach, and the rest of the damn city, you did. It wasn’t obvious, but you felt for them.”

“Perhaps once. For a fleeting moment. That moment is not now.”

There’s nothing that you can say to that, really. All you can do is stare at him, eyes wide and unable to choke out words, crying, screaming, anything. But now, the dagger you carry everywhere feels twice as heavy and twice as cold. You want to search his face for any signs of deception, but you’re too afraid of what you might find, so you force your eyes to the ground.

Silence hangs in the air like a chain tightening its hold around your lifeline.

“I was fine,” you whisper, face burning. “I was getting better. I was getting over you, and you came back.”

His hands limply fall to his sides. “You are the one who refuses to let me go.”

When you don’t respond, afraid your voice will crack and give out the last of the thin thread that holds you together, he steps toward you again, now a mere feet away. All you can see, and what you’re willing to see, is his chest as he breathes out his words. “Do you hate me?”

You have no idea, truly.

“You should.”

Lifting your head, you focus on his eyelashes rather than his eyes. Doing otherwise might provoke you to do something you’ll regret. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Hate me.”

The pause feels like another lifetime as your heart pounds rapidly, your palms feeling too clammy, and your throat too dry. He blinks, slowly.

“Yes. More than anyone."

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterrenegade @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #bg3 x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #laezel

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 1 month

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Love Bites {Masterlist}

With your memory spotty, you gravitate toward the first person you see—an old friend from a very old past. But Astarion is keeping plenty of secrets...and he's never been the best liar. How long will it take before his deceptions unravel? And what will you do when you realize just how much damage he's done?

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, vampire spawn!Tav, fem!Tav, manipulative but guilty/regretful Astarion, Astarion's sexual trauma, Cazador, vampire bite, reader is turned into a spawn, reader is technically one of Astarion's victims

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, consensual sex, mirror sex, riding, fingering, oral, blood kink, bite kink, loving sex, non-descriptive noncon/dubcon (Astarion’s trauma), Astarion experimenting with his boundaries

Total Word Count: 47,397 words (87 pages)

Notes: The title of this fic (and some of its chapter titles) is heavily inspired by Def Leppard's song Love Bites.

Posting Schedule can be found on my {Updates Page}

CONTENT NOTE: Where Astarion's perspective comes into this fic, I tried writing his experience with his hurt that he has been treated this way along with his "this is what I do" mentality; he's very back and forth about the abuse he's endured and some of my writing reflects that. If that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable in anyway, I completely understand and I encourage you to leave the fic at any point. However, I do believe writing this perspective is necessary, as his blasé take on his sexual trauma is one that I myself have struggled with, as I am sure other survivors have as well.

☟ story parts linked below ☟

Best Unremembered {Chapter 1} Waking up with a spotty memory and the only person you do remember is jarring enough—but it only gets worse when the people who remember you are monsters and strangers.

Walking Corpses {Chapter 2} Astarion's night spent searching for prey is interrupted by an unwelcome feeling of familiarity. Your life is derailed by recognizing a long-dead friend.

Little Love {Chapter 3} Appearances can be deceiving, but they can also tell you everything you need to know. A second look at the elf you once called a friend is all you need to fill in the two-hundred year gap.

The Golden Elf {Chapter 4} Sometimes, vampires choose their spawn specifically. Sometimes, they're in the wrong place at the wrong time and are lost to their loved ones for centuries. These days, that's all you can think about.

Little Star, Little Sun {Chapter 5} A long-awaited reunion that doesn't go quite as planned can lead to many things, especially when two manipulators both lay their traps for one another. Though is it really a trap when all you want to do is spare your lover from yet another night of torment?

Love Bites {Chapter 6} Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Love Bleeds {Chapter 7} Fangs gleam in the shadows and a coffin lies open nearby. Vampire lords are nasty creatures; even a changed heart can do very little when there are claws around it.

On My Knees {Chapter 8} A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Second Chances {Epilogue} Home is a place and home is people. You have quite the large family now, and it's time to provide for them, however you may.

Love Bites Soundtrack — 3h50min

Chapter 1: tracks 1 - 6 Chapter 2: tracks 7 - 13 Chapter 3: tracks 14 - 19 Chapter 4: tracks 20 - 26 Chapter 5: tracks 27 - 32 Chapter 6: tracks 33 - 40 Chapter 7: tracks 41 - 46 Chapter 8: tracks 47 - 53 Epilogue: tracks 54 - 60

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound

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charlesf1leclerc · 6 months

Text

Warnings: Mentions of breastfeeding

summary: Christmas tree decorating with the Leclerc family

“ ok hot coco for everyone” you said as you walked into the living room where your three kids were sat around Charles as he put the tree together and put the lights on so you could start decorating.

“ Yay! “ Sicily yelled coming up to where you put the drinks down on the table.

“ careful it’s hot baby “ you said patting the top of her head before walking over to the play mat where 8 month old Remy lay on the ground, picking him up.

“ and you mister get mummy’s milk”

He looked up and gurgled up at you as you walked to sit on the couch and starting to breastfeed the boy.

You had a family tradition to always set the Christmas tree up in the first of December, you would decorate the tree together after Charles set it up and you would always have hot coco and put elf on in the background a Christmas classic.

“ papa I want to help” Sicily whined at Charles who was currently trying to get all the lights to cover every inch of the tree.

Setting the tree up and the lights was always to much stress for you and Charles had perfected it so it now became his job.

“ yes Cherie why don’t you get the tinsel from the box over there” he spoke not looking away from the tree.

The 4 year old ran over to the box picking out the tinsel then running back happily to hand it to her papa.

“ thank you baby” he leant down and kissed her head

“ once I do this we can decorate!” He exclaimed

“ yay! “ Sicily exclaimed. That’s one thing you liked about her she was always excited for anything

“ all done buddy” you soke as you felt Remy unlatch and began to burp him.

“ Indy why don’t you help your sister lay all the ornament out on the table so we are ready to start” you asked the 8 year old who sat on the couch next to you.

“ ok” she spoke getting up and they both started to unpack the ornaments

You had a lot of basic but elegant ornaments for the tree but you also liked to put on some family ornaments like ones the kids made , ornaments of their names and little foot prints or little ballarenia ornaments you liked the tree to feel homely and full of love rather than aestheticly pleasing.

You got up placing remy back down on his mat infront of the Tv and walked over to your husband.

“ looking good hunny” you said placing your hand behind his back

“ I know I’m just so talented “

“ hmm sure” you laughed

“ my own wife has turned against me , cm’on Cherie you can’t tell me this isn’t amazing” he leant down to turn the lights on and the whole tree lit up

“ this one mum” dusky shoved one of the baubles. You bent down to her level

“ ok put it on the tree baby” you whispered and pushed her forward gently as she placed it on one of the lower branches.

Charles walked over to wear Indy stood running his hand down her ponytail

“ wanna but one on Inds? “ he asked

“ ok “ she picked up one of the ballerina ornaments and put it on the tree

“ And we can’t forget you little man, you wanna help mummy put the ornaments on the tree “ you whispered picking your baby boy up. Of course you put the ornament on the tree and he just watched but it was still very exciting for him.

“ that’s my big boy” Charles bent down to pinch his chubby cheeks and then take him from your arms so you could help the girls decorate the rest of the tree.

“ no that’s ugly it dosent go there” ah the joy of sisters Indy was very unimpressed with Sicily’s decorating skills at the moment. Of course with little kids not everything can be peaceful all the time there will always be some bumps along the way.

But it’s ok because eventually the tree for decorated and it looked beautiful in its own special way. Just you, your little family and the perfect Christmas

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forestdeath1 · 3 months

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Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 4. How Sirius shows care towards people and animals.

Sirius has a trait that often seems like irresponsibility or excessive harshness.

Sirius really respects another person's free will and choice and even treats teenagers as adults with their own minds. It's a deeply rooted idea of respecting others as agents of free will.

That's why he has no pity for those who make mistakes, including himself. To him, any mistake is always a person's free choice. Sirius will never forgive Peter because, regardless of Peter's circumstances for betrayal, it ultimately was a CHOICE. He even refuses to forgive the Ministry (as if the Ministry cares, oh Sirius):

‘Don’t worry about Percy,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘He’ll come round. It’s only a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry’s going to be begging us to forgive them. And I’m not sure I’ll be accepting their apology,’ he added bitterly.

He tells this to Molly after she encounters a boggart. Contrary to popular belief, in this scene, he doesn't really comfort her after their argument. Lupin does most of the work. Sirius just adds this phrase. He's still angry at Molly for what she said, just acting more maturely and not escalating the conflict further. He's angry because he understands Molly said exactly what she meant. Molly is also angry at him, they generally love to get angry at each other because they don't really understand each other.

They were both speaking in carefully light, polite voices that told Harry quite plainly that neither had forgotten their disagreement of the night before.

He even considers Kreacher an agent of free will.

‘You’d be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione,’ said Sirius.

As they say - where there's a will, there's a way. When people say that Kreacher was lower in the hierarchy than Sirius (as any house-elf would be), Sirius himself did not see it that way, and it’s truly paradoxical. He argued with Kreacher, kicked him, engaged in verbal battles, though he could have just given direct orders. Kreacher's insults towards Sirius were similar in style to Walburga's (otherwise, where would Kreacher learn those insults?), and Sirius... Sirius, instead of direct orders, just yells back or kicks him. When Harry gives Kreacher a direct order to shut up, Kreacher obeys instantly. A house-elf must obey the direct orders of their master. But Sirius doesn't give direct orders. Because for him, Kreacher is also an agent of free will (and also some ‘‘member‘‘ of his beloved and hated family, as Sirius is much more attached to the Blacks than he would like to admit).

Because of his attitude towards equals, Sirius fights for Harry to get the information he needs. For Sirius, Harry is an adult, not a five-year-old child who needs to be looked after in the style of Molly. Molly deprives Harry of his agency, his choice, and his own opinion with her overprotection. We have to understand Molly; she really worries for all of them, as half her family is in the Order and can die. She doesn't want to lose Harry, so she tries to protect him in every way. Plus, they all have orders from Dumbledore. Isn't Molly right? Molly has her point, she works for the Order and thinks Sirius could harm with his too "independent" behaviour, and teach Harry this excessive independence. And what does independence from Dumbledore lead to? Molly knows well (and so does Sirius) – last time such "independence" from Dumbledore cost the Potters their lives. I don't want to judge Molly. She's a member of the newer incarnation of the Order of the Phoenix, and a good one at that. Sirius, however, is still mentally in the era of the Order's original incarnation (as is Lupin, though he is more conforming and softer), a time when the rules of engagement were harsher, with much more focus on the grim realities of war. The newer version of the Order operates with different tactics – emphasizing manipulation, cunning, and caution.

Molly and Sirius have different approaches. Molly is about caution. Sirius is about action.

Sirius treats Harry as a subject, not an object to be shielded from information.

Sirius knows where his area of responsibility is and what he can influence, and where he should not interfere:

‘Not just yet, Molly,’ said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. ‘You know, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.’

‘I did!’ said Harry indignantly. ‘I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so –’

‘And they’re quite right,’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘You’re too young.’

‘Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?’ asked Sirius. ‘Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen—’

‘How come Harry gets his questions answered?’ said Fred angrily. ‘We’ve been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!’ said George.

‘It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,’ said Sirius calmly, ‘that’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand –’

He doesn't tell the twins anything because it's not his responsibility. But Harry – that's his responsibility. And Sirius believes it's up to him to decide what Harry is allowed to know and what not (considering Dumbledore's instructions "I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly").

‘He’s not your son,’ said Sirius quietly.

‘He’s as good as,’ said Mrs Weasley fiercely. ‘Who else has he got?’

‘He’s got me!’

In the situation with Molly, you see two opposing views clash. Molly, with the archetype of a guardian, wants to shelter everyone with her care. Sirius, with the archetype of a rebel, respects Harry's wishes and wants to open up new knowledge and opportunities for him to fight.

‘He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘He’s only fifteen and –’

‘And he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,’ said Sirius, ‘and more than some.’

‘No one’s denying what he’s done!’ said Mrs Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. ‘But he’s still –’

‘He’s not a child!’ said Sirius impatiently.

Sirius probably stopped considering himself a child very early on. Maybe it came from his conservative family, where children were expected to grow up earlier, not walk around as "little children" until they were 18. They think about marriage, duty to the family, responsibility early on. Plus, wizards come of age earlier – at 17. So, for Sirius, 15 years old is not a child anymore.

That's why Sirius defends Harry's right "to know".

‘But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back’ (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name) ‘he has more right than most to –’

Sirius really encourages taking action. His way of caring isn't about coddling. It's about giving knowledge, opportunities, resources, and supporting in the right direction. For Sirius, to live is to act; he can't be without action, doesn't understand life without it:

‘Personally, I’d have welcomed a Dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you’ve had it bad, at least you’ve been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights ... I’ve been stuck inside for a month.’

Sirius can't not act and he doesn't understand how you could do otherwise. He knows Harry is the same because Harry is like his dad, meaning James was the same – always acting.

And he encourages this in Harry. But he always teaches to act with thought, not just charging in. In the 4th book, Sirius was telling Harry not to stick his neck out, but in the 5th, it's the opposite. Sirius has his own logic, which he shows here:

‘So, you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the Defence group?’ he muttered finally.

‘Me? Certainly not!’ said Sirius, looking surprised. ‘I think it’s an excellent idea!’

‘You do?’ said Harry, his heart lifting.

‘Of course I do!’ said Sirius. ‘D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?’

‘But – last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks –’

‘Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!’ said Sirius impatiently. ‘This year, we know there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!’

‘And if we do get expelled?’ Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.

‘Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,’ said Sirius.

That's Sirius through and through. A true Gryffindor, who won't just sit around when there's danger afoot. You might argue that he shouldn't have encouraged Harry in this way. But what else was he to do? Hand Harry over to Umbridge? Of course not. He trusts Harry, believes in his potential. He treats Harry as an equal, not as a child, and that's why Harry feels so connected to Sirius – at last, someone sees him as mature enough, respects him as a free person. Throughout the series, Harry has been shielded from the truth, kept in the dark, yet Sirius shows him a different kind of respect – he sees Harry as someone who can act, in whom he places his trust and belief. Is Sirius right? When it comes to Harry – absolutely. As for the war, the Order, and following Dumbledore's orders – Molly would definitely disapprove.

He even passes Molly's words on to Ron. In his sarcastic manner, but still:

… anyway ... first of all, Ron – I’ve sworn to pass on a message from your mother.’

‘Oh yeah?’ said Ron, sounding apprehensive.

‘She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you’ll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also’ (Sirius’s eyes turned to the other two) ‘advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you’d all have been in real trouble, and she can’t say it for herself because she’s on duty tonight.’

Again – a striking difference between what Molly understands by care and what Sirius understands by it.

Sirius lets Harry feel that he's believed in, respected, that his actions are encouraged. Sometimes Sirius criticises them, because as much as he encourages action, he believes all actions should be reasoned. Act according to logic, not thoughtlessly.

For instance, Sirius sternly reprimands him in the 4th book when Harry, in his opinion, does something foolish. And notice his communication style. Sirius is often blunt in conversation, in his way of talking, he doesn't sugarcoat. And Harry's okay with that. Sirius isn't one for mushiness.

Harry – what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the Forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed.

Your name didn’t get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone’s trying to attack you, they’re on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practise Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn’t go amiss either. There’s nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I’m waiting for your letter giving me your word you won’t stray out of bounds again.

That's what care means to Sirius. Not forbidding him from knowing information. But actively helping him so Harry is ready to stand up to challenges.

Or like this:

‘Now, listen ...’ he looked particularly hard at Harry – ‘I don’t want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you’re not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission, it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.’

‘No one’s tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of Grindylows,’ Harry said.

But Sirius scowled at him. ‘I don’t care ... I’ll breathe freely again when this Tournament’s over, and that’s not until June. And don’t forget, if you’re talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, OK?’

At the same time, he provides Harry with emotional support. Just without the mushiness. There's a sort of rough tenderness about it, making these signs of attention and love seem even more important and pleasant.

‘What’re you doing here, Sirius?’ he said.

‘Fulfilling my duty as godfather,’ said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very dog-like way. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’m pretending to be a loveable stray.’

The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciated it all the same.

He also provides Harry with real resources that can help him:

‘I want you to take this,’ he said quietly, thrusting a badly wrapped package roughly the size of a paperback book into Harry’s hands.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked.

‘A way of letting me know if Snape’s giving you a hard time. No, don’t open it in here!’ said Sirius, with a wary look at Mrs Weasley, who was trying to persuade the twins to wear hand-knitted mittens. ‘I doubt Molly would approve – but I want you to use it if you need me, all right?’

‘Sirius’s knife,’ he said. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,’ said Harry. ‘So even if she’s bewitched the door so Alohomora won’t work, which I bet she has –’

Sirius isn't inclined to pity. He respects the choices of others. His care is expressed in this – he knows people's strengths and trusts them to do their job. He thinks Hagrid will be okay because Hagrid is tough. Why worry?

‘Listen, don’t go asking too many questions about Hagrid,’ said Sirius hastily, ‘it’ll just draw even more attention to the fact that he’s not back and I know Dumbledore doesn’t want that. Hagrid’s tough, he’ll be OK.’

And he respects the choice of the twins' father, though many find Sirius's words harsh:

‘We don’t care about the dumb Order!’ shouted Fred.

‘It’s our dad dying we’re talking about!’ yelled George.

‘Your father knew what he was getting into and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!’ said Sirius, equally angry. ‘This is how it is – this is why you’re not in the Order – you don’t understand – there are things worth dying for!’

But it's not cruelty or indifference, it's respect for their father's choice, as an agent of free will.

Sirius even treats animals this way. Look how he got on with the cat. And yet he understands that animals are defenceless and need support. He doesn't expect danger from them and often finds comfort in their company.

‘This cat isn’t mad,’ said Black hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Crookshanks’s fluffy head. ‘He’s the most intelligent of his kind I’ve ever met. He recognised Peter for what he was straight away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me. Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he’s been helping me ...’

Kreacher injured Buckbeak the Hippogriff yesterday, and, at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Sirius was upstairs tending to him.’

Crookshanks, Hermione’s bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Harry’s legs, purring, then jumped on to Sirius’s lap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absent-mindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry.

Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. ‘I’ve just been feeding Buckbeak,’ he added, in reply to Harry’s enquiring look. ‘I keep him upstairs in my mother’s bedroom

Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother’s room with Buckbeak.

He became more and more prone to what Mrs Weasley called ‘fits of the sullens’, in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak’s room for hours at a time.

Sirius befriended the cat, treated it as an intelligent being, and constantly cared for the hippogriff. Sirius is very closed off from people (after Azkaban, he only opens up to Harry and Remus), he builds a tough armour, but easily opens up to animals and easily cares for them in a nurturing manner – and they love him back.

In conclusion, Sirius respects the free choice of others. For him, pity towards another is demeaning. Sirius hates pity – neither for himself nor for others. To pity = to demean, to pity means to acknowledge the other as incapable and weak. And Sirius doesn't meddle in others' relationships, he well separates his zone of responsibility, and care for him is to give resources and information so the person can act. And he's good with animals, and to animals, he can show a different attitude – nurturing, because acknowledging animals as weaker doesn't demean them, because animals truly are weaker.

This character trait of Sirius isn't for moral judgement, just that's how he is, and it's important to understand that.

#sirius black #the marauders #sirius black meta #the marauders meta #hp meta #sirius and harry

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eunoiathewriter · 2 years

Text

H. POTTER X F!READER

Synopsis: Harry Potter falling more and more in love with y/n Weasley.

Word Count: 10k

Second year:

The flight had been rather calm. For a fourteen-year-old, Fred had been driving quite well, a little wobbly at times, but not something that had made George, Ron, or Harry freak out. It had been dark when the flying blue car had suddenly appeared outside Harry's window. The three Weasley brothers had shown up at just the right time, helping him get out of 4 Privet Drive. Harry knew that his aunt and uncle would not have done what they did if it weren't for that elf. Dobby. But now he was away from there, and Fred had just landed the car outside a house that was built as if with time, more rooms had been built on it, adding on to the height.

As they entered, Harry was hit by a domestic feeling. The house is homely. As they entered the house and entered the kitchen, Harry noticed how each chair was unique. Even the cabinets were an assortment of different styles. The water at the sink was running and a pan was being washed by nothing. It was a spell.

Harry continued into the house and stopped at a clock-like thing where he could see pictures of all the Weasley siblings he'd met. The three pictures of Ron, George, and Fred moved from standing on "Lost" to "Home". The green-eyed boy scanned it and could even spot the three other siblings' pictures on the clock. Percy, Ginny, and y/n all pointed to "bed". Signalling that the other three were still asleep just at this moment. His eyes stayed a bit longer on the picture of y/n before he turned to what was left of the living area. In an armchair, it was as if someone was invisible and knitting, a pair of tapestry needles moving and knitting something Harry had no idea of what.

"It's not much, but it's home." Ron said this while chewing on a cookie from the table.

"I think it's brilliant," Harry breathed and looked up in amazement. Still in awe of it all.

The quiet and peaceful feeling soon left, however, as it felt as if his soul had left his body when Molly Weasley appeared out of nowhere.

"Where have you been?" She exclaimed at her sons, but quickly softened on seeing Harry for a split second. "Harry, how wonderful to see you, dear."

Ron, George, and Fred looked down as Molly continued. "Beds are empty. No note. Car gone. You could've died. You could have been seen. Of course, I don't blame you, Harry, dear. "

"They were starving him, mum, and put bars on his window!" Ron protested, and Harry nodded along with his friend.

"Well, you best hope I don't put bars on your window, Ronald Weasley." Fred and George, behind Ron, pulled faces at what their mum said. "Come on, Harry, time for a spot of breakfast."

Harry had piled a good amount of food onto his plate just as rapid footsteps bombarded down the stairs of the house, making Harry turn his head. "Mummy, have you seen my jumper?"

It was Ginny, or well, her real name was Ginerva, but it was George who had come up with Ginny since she didn't like her name. "Yes, dear, it was on the cat." Molly answered.

When Ginny came face to-face with Harry, she smiled a little mischievously, but was still in shock that he was there. But Harry simply smiled at the youngest Weasley. "Hello,"

Within seconds, Ginny bombarded up the stairs again, giggling as Harry and Ron gave her confused looks, but Fred and George snickered at Ginny. "y/n!!" They could hear the younger girl call for her older sister, making Fred and Geroge almost burst out laughing right there and then.

"W-what did I do?" Harry asked, confusion flooding his voice whilst taking a bite of his food.

"Ginny. She's been asking about you all summer. It's kind of annoying actually. " Ron said to his raven-haired friend.

Then someone came walking down the stairs of the house once more, but this time not with the same rushed tempo but a rather calm one. And to Harry's delight, the footsteps belonged to the one girl he was just as ecstatic to meet again as he had been with Ron. Her voice was what broke the silence at the table. "Mum! Can you tell Ginny to quit being a little gremlin?" y/n's voice had gone from pitchy to a more even one over the summer, from what Harry could hear.

"Oh, what is she doing now?" Molly asked just as it seemed y/n stepped down from the last step of the stairs.

"She isn't shutting up about...Harry?" y/n cut herself off as she turned the corner and saw Harry sitting on Charlie's chair beside Ron. Now this was strange. Weren't they supposed to meet him on the train?

"Hello." Harry smiled at the girl. She had clearly grown quite a bit over the summer. Even from where he sat, Harry could see she had gotten a bit taller. She wore long pyjama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt, clearly having just gotten up. Harry didn't know it then, but his cheeks felt so hot because of the fact that he was slightly flustered. But how was a twelve-year-old supposed to know that?

y/n still stood glued to her place by the stairs, squinting at Harry, who furrowed his brows in confusion at her. Her eyes then travelled between the two twins, who seemed to be having a hard time breathing and then over to Ron. She didn't even bother to look over at Percy. She knew he had been sound asleep, judging by how out of it he looked.

Just as she was supposed to ask her brothers, however, it was Arthur Weasley walking through the door that stopped her. "Morning, Weasleys!"

"Morning, dad!" All the Weasley siblings greeted their dad, and Harry chimed in with a lower 'Hello' but still a smile on his face.

Arthur walked up and hugged y/n since she was the only one standing up and then just gently pushed her to go and sit down, which she did. "What a night, nine raids! Nine! "

"Raids?" Harry turned to Ron and y/n who had sat down beside her one-year-younger brother.

"Dad works in the Ministry of Magic, in the misuse of muggle artefacts office." Ron explained it to his friend as Arthur hugged Molly behind them."

"Dad loves muggles, thinks they are fascinating." y/n joined in with a smile, and Harry was slightly confused by the work Mr. Weasley did, but most new things in the wizarding world were confusing.

"Well, now." But Arthur stopped at seeing Harry as he sat down by the table. "And who are you?"

"Oh, sorry, sir. I'm Harry, sir. Harry Potter." He said, which made Arthur's eyes go just a little wide looking at the boy.

"God, Lord, are you really?" Arthur breathed. "Well, Ron and y/n's told us all about you, of course. When did he get here? "

Harry glanced over at y/n who was looking at her mum to hear how he got there. "This morning, your sons flew that enchanted car of yours to Surrey and back last night." Molly told, making both Arthur and y/n look at her with wide eyes.

"Did you really? How'd it go? " Arthur asked bewildered with a smile. To try to explain it, all the boys started talking about it to the man, but Molly made them all shut up when she hit her husband's shoulder.

"I mean, that was very wrong indeed, boys, very wrong of you."

"So that's what you sneaky little gits were doing!" y/n said pointedly at her brothers. Harry smiled to himself as Fred, George, and Ron all looked down a little.

"Well, you looked so peaceful when sleeping," George started.

"Besides, didn't you tell us just yesterday to let you sleep?" Fred asked to make an argument start between the twins and y/n. Harry and Ron shake their heads but still smiling. Arthur then asking Harry about rubber ducks.

——

Harry let out a deep breath of air as the memory of Tom Riddle was destroyed. In his hand he still held the basilisk's tooth, which was now bloodied along with his hand from stabbing the diary with it. The diary, which had once been intact with a black leather cover, was now completely destroyed by the vicious stabbings Harry had delivered to it.

He sat back, just as y/n's eyes opened. Her pulse had, without Harry's knowing, gone back to a more even one every time he stabbed the diary. Her eyes were wide as she breathed deeply, letting the oxygen enter her lungs and make her more and more stable.

Harry looked over at the girl as she began to sit up slowly, pushing herself up from her back with her arms. She was clearly very disoriented as she looked around to find herself in the Chamber of Secrets, Salazar Slytherin's secret creation.

"y/n?" Harry caught her attention, holding his hurt arm. y/n turned and found Harry sitting there; dirt and grime had stuck to his face and clothes. A few splashes of blood from the basilisk here and there.

"Harry," She breathed, clearly still a bit out of it, but soon started to apologise. "It was me, but I swear, I didn't mean to. Riddle made me. I just found the diary in Ginny's cauldron when we left Flourish and Blotts and... Harry, you're hurt. "

y/n had cut her explanation and apology off at seeing the boys' arm. He quickly covered it. Even though he knew she was a year older, she seemed very confused and scared just there and then. As if she wasn't already one of the smartest of her siblings. "Don't worry. y/n, you need to get yourself out. Follow the Chamber and you'll find Ron."

It was just then that the screech of Fawkes echoed through the chamber, the red phoenix standing out against the dark and gloomy place. Fawkes lands between the two, and he makes his way up to Harry. Seeming to look at him with sad eyes.

"You were brilliant, Fawkes. I just wasn't quick enough." Harry told the Phoenix, through gritted teeth, the pain was still very intense in his arm.

Fawkes took a look at Harry before leaning his head down towards the boy's arm. Tilting his head, tears, shockingly, fell from Fawkes' eyes. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. And with that, the circular wound from the basilisk bite was just a memory that had vanished with smoke. y/n's eyes went wide as she just stared at Harry's arm.

"Of course, Phoenix tears have healing powers. Thanks. " Harry thanked the phoenix. It's alright, y/n. It's over, it's just a memory. "

y/n's shoulders went from tense to relaxed. It was over. But this year, y/n had not been there to help through it all, she had caused it all, a burden that would loom over her for years to comeBut Harry couldn't help but crack the smallest of smile at seeing the girl alive again instead of dead like others pressured her to be. He knew how relieved her siblings and parents would be to see her alive again, and just as she looked up at Harry, he had to look away for a second. His cheeks were slightly warm under her gaze, and he had a boyish smile on his face.

Oh sweet little Harry, he really had no clue what all these feelings meant.

Third year:

The weather had gotten worse during the train ride to Hogwarts. The sky had grown dark and gloomy, with clouds covering the better part of it. Harsh drops of rain thundered against the window of the train. Sliding down the glass as if the drops of water were competing to see who could be the fastest.

Inside the compartment, it was luckily warm. Harry was talking about everything with Sirius Black that Arthur had told him just before they left for the platform. Ron sat with Scabbers and Hermione on the left side of the compartment, all while y/n sat beside Harry on the right one with Crookshanks having crawled up in her lap. By the window on the right side, sat an unknown man to the four. He was sound asleep. He wasn't snoring, but he hadn't moved an inch in response to the four talking.

"Let me get this straight. Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban to come after you?" Ron asked, slightly horrified at the thought.

"Yeah," Harry simply answered.

"But they'll catch Black, won't they? I mean, everyone's looking for him. " Hermione said.

"Sure,"

"Except, no-one's ever broken out of Azkaban before and he is a murderous, raving lunatic." Ron added after his sister attempted to reassure him. y/n gave him a 'really' look as she petted Crookshanks.

"Thanks, Ron." Harry thanked him sarcastically.

The train suddenly started to stop, breakes screeching. The sudden stop made all four tense, and Crookshanks quickly jumped over and curled up beside Hermione. Harry had reached out to steady himself at the stop and happened to lay his hand on top of y/n's. It made her turn her head quickly and just glance at it, making Harry quickly remove his hand.

"Why are we stopping?" Hermione asked with confusion. "We can't be there yet."

When Harry had recovered from his embarrassing move just seconds before, he stood up. He opened the door to the compartment and looked outside to see if he could get any idea of what was wrong. It seemed other students at Hogwarts had the same idea, as Harry could see fellow schoolmates doing just like him. But when the train shook vigorously, it caused the green-eyed boy to get thrown back into his seat inside the compartment as the compartment door closed. y/n squeaked as Harry stumbled back and moved out of his way. Pressed up against the wall of the compartment door.

"What's going on?" Ron looked around.

"Dunno. Maybe we've broken down. " Harry suggested it to the other three, but the lights went out just as he said so. Hermione and Y/N gasped as they looked up at the newly turned off lights.

"Ouch Ron, that was my foot." Hermione huffed at the Weasley boy who had moved to look out the window. Pressing his face against it and trying to just get a glimpse of what it might have been that caused the sudden stop. The light suddenly flickers on again.

"There's something moving out there."

y/n looked towards her brother, and her face held just the slightest bit of fear. Harry turned to her and saw the look. Her brows were pulled into a frown as she bit on her lip whilst looking from the window out into the hallway.

"I think.. someone's coming on board," For a second time, the lights had gone out and the train shook again.

The water on the window slowly started to freeze, frost painting it in various designs as it moved eight over where Ron's had been placed. The water bottle, along with the door window, began to freeze. It went from being warm to cold in a matter of seconds. Their breaths could be seen as they fogged into the air.

Harry began to rub his hands together to try and warm up, glancing at y/n who hugged herself. He reached out and put a hand on the girl's arm as he could still see her worried expression.

"Bloody hell! What's happening? " Ron asked as the train shook once more. All four teens had to reach down and steady themselves.

A tall shadow moved outside the compartment. It was cloaked as they could see something waving in the wind that the shadow had seemingly dragged with it. Moving slowly. All four of them were quiet as the only thing heard inside the compartment was their wavering breaths.

The shadow, or whatever creature it was, stretched out a bony looking hand, and without touching the door, it started to open. y/n, who sat closest to the door, wore a scared face as she moved from it and happened to move just a little too much so that she bumped into Harry. He didn't even bother that, but she moved from sitting shoulder to shoulder but still close to him. A slight fear takes over his mind.

The cloaked creature had fully opened the compartment door and now looked between all four friends. Crookshanks hissed at it as the only thing except it's cloak being seen was a black hole, like a mouth. It breathed deeply though.

The creature turned to the left side of the compartment where Harry, y/n and the man whose last name was Lupin sat. They all looked at it as if something had suddenly happened. It was just a matter of seconds before Harry started to grow pale, the creature moving closer to the boy who lived. y/n turned to Harry and shook his hand to get him out of it, but just as she did, the man beside Harry jumped up and a bright light was emitted from his wand. And then, Harry was out like a light.

When he came again, the train whistled loudly in his ears. The darkness that had consumed him for a few minutes was fading. "Harry? Harry, are you alright?" It was y/n.

He opened his eyes, and they hurt at the bright light from the compartment. He looked around, squinting as the world was a blurry mess for him. But as he looked around, he found his glasses being held out to him.

"Thank you." Harry took them from whoever it was and put them on. Finding it was y/n sitting on the floor in front of Ron and Hermione, smiling a little but still her brows were furrowed. Right by where his head had been, Crookshanks laid and looked up at him as he sat. Hermione, who sat close to Ron, a man who had to be Lupin sat, a calm smile on his face.

"Here eat this, it'll help. It's alright, it's chocolate. " The man held out a piece of chocolate for Harry to take, and he reluctantly took it. Looking weirdly at the man.

All four of them looked at Harry while he sat up and glanced over at the compartment door where the creature had been earlier. Finding it empty and back to normal. "Wha... what was that thing?" He asked, turning to the older man.

"It was a dementor. One of the guards of Azkaban. It's gone now. It was searching the train for Sirius Black. " Mr. Lupin said, staring at his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to have a little word with the driver."

y/n moved Crookshanks over to Hermione's lap and sat herself down by the window, right next to Harry. "Eat, you'll feel better." Mr. Lupin said as he left.

Harry nibbled on the piece of chocolate, staring off to the side whilst trying to make sense of it all. "What happened to me?"

"Well, you sort of went ruched. We thought maybe you're having a fit or something. " Ron's voice carried concern for his friends as he spoke.

"And.. and did either of you three, you know, pass out?" Harry looked between the three.

"No. I felt weird though, like I'd never be cheerful again." Ron answered.

"But someone was screaming, a woman." Harry looked at Hermione, then y/n, who both shook their heads.

"No one was screaming, Harry." Hermione answered for both, and he looked out the window to see the rain still pouring down.

——

The match against Hufflepuff had been going quite well. y/n, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet had been making loads of goals as chasers during the time they had been playing. Harry had to admit that the three girls were, without doubt, a good trio. Fred and Geroge had been doing their best to keep buldger away from the three girls, along with Harry. At times, the twins would focus on just one of the players to keep them secure from the Gryffindor team. Oliver Wood keeps on doing his thing. Keeping the quaffle away from being scored, though the yellow team had made a few goals.

Even through the wind and rain, Harry had heard Lee Jordan's commentary on the game. For some reason, he had grown a bit jealous of the commentator. Why? Well, it was quite simple. Lee was the only close friend except the Weasley siblings, Harry, and Hermione that y/n was friends with.

What Harry had understood, y/n, had been sticking out when she started at Hogwarts in 1990, the year before he did. The others just froze her out of anything that had caused Fred and Geroge to let her be with them and their friends. Leading to y/n and Lee Jordan being close friends. Maybe it was the whole linking arms thing Harry hated? Or maybe how Lee would just listen to y/n without even looking away, reminding Harry of how he looked at her.

Even now, as he had been racing around the quidditch stadium for the Golden Snitch, Harry couldn't help but feel jealousy bubble inside him when Lee had commented on y/n scoring a goal. He had to shake it off, but only for a split second before resuming his pursuit of the golden little devil. Harry looked down to see y/n having just flown past Fred and Geroge, who had cought up to their sister and was protecting her as she had the quaffle but soon passed it on to Alicia.

A second later, gold flashed before Harry's face, and in a matter of milliseconds, he flew right to where he saw it fly off. Cedric Diggory, captain of the Hufflepuff team and seeker, quickly followed after Harry. When they flew right past Ron and Hermione, Harry could hear Hermione cheering him on.

Harry and Cedric raced for the snitch, going further and further up into the sky. Right now, Harry was grateful to Hermione, who had cast an impervius charm on him and y/n, making it easier for both of them to see in the pouring rain.

A bolt of lightning then hit Cedric's broom as they had reached far up, almost to the clouds. It made the seeker freeze and start to fall down. Harry does not care one bit and continues further up to catch the snitch and win the game. But slowly, his broom began to freeze as an umbrella blew past him. But something more blew past him too. A cloaked thing.

It was not until he looked in front of himself properly that Harry saw the dementor that had flown past him. Quickly ducking it, Harry immediately started flying up, being chased by the dementor as one more joined in and more and more. When he reached a certain height, Harry let out a breath and stopped his broom from going further, letting himself fall down. He fell past a few dementors before diving at full speed with his nimbus. He then had to stop, however, seeing the sight below him.

Hundreds of dark-cloaked dementors flew around below him. Their faces were dark and empty as they looked at him. The rain was still pouring down and drenching him. When he was about to dive again, he just turned his head and came face to-face with one. The dementor made him lose consciousness and fall. The last thing he heard was the woman screaming once more.

"He looks a bit peaky. Doesn't he? " Harry could hear Ron's voice above him.

"Peaky? What do you expect? He fell over a hundred feet. " George told his younger brother.

"Yeah, come on, Ron, let's walk you up the astronomy tower," Fred started.

"See what you look like." Geroge finished just as Harry began to open his eyes.

"Probably a right sight better than he normally does." Harry spoke up and smiled, hearing all the others chuckle. This includes Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, the twins, Ron, Angelina Johnson, Hermione, and y/n. Or well, Hermione just let out a breath of air.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione's asked as Harry began to sit up and squinted to see as well as he could.

"Really, 'Mione?" y/n had her hands on Hermione's shoulders as she pointed out how foolish that question sounded.

"Oh, brilliantly." Harry remarked sarcastically to Hermione as y/n handed him his glasses. Giving her a shy smile as thanks.

"You gave us a right good scare there, mate." George said seriously, while sitting down beside Harry's bed in the hospital wing.

"What happened?" Now Fred and George would have laughed if they were not around Harry, as he looked over at y/n while asking that.

"Well, you fell off your broom." Ron stupidly tells as if he thinks Harry was a complete idiot.

"Really?" Harry once more spoke with sarcasm, which made y/n have to hold herself from laughing. "I meant the match, who won?"

y/n glanced over at a Hufflepuff student being taken care of, and it seemed that it made Harry catch on as he sighed in annoyance. But Hermione was quick to try and save the day. "Uhm, no one blames you, Harry. The dementors aren't supposed to come inside the grounds. Dumbledore was furious. As soon as he'd saved you, he sent them straight off."

Harry looked off to the side and earned a squeeze on the shoulder by y/n, silently telling him it was fine. He didn't say a word, but if y/n had looked close enough, she would have noticed the red tint that had painted his cheeks at her action.

"There's, uh, something else you should know too, Harry uhm," Harty looked at Ron, who held something wrapped in his arms. "When you fell your broom, it sort of blew into the Whomping Willow and, uh, well, it's uh.."

Harry only sighed harder when Ron showed him his broken broom. He knew that he would have to find another broom for the rest of the season until he could buy himself a new one. It was all so annoying. If Harry hadn't gotten so affected by the dementors, then he would have surely coughed up the snitch and made Gryffindor win. In his head, he cursed himself for being so affected and all.

It was clear to Fred that the boy wasn't in the mood to have people around him, so he began to usher the others away. "Come on guys, enough staring; he's not a muggle TV."

All the others, except y/n, Hermione and Ron, left. The three just stood there and watched as Harry stared up at the ceiling. But y/n who had glanced towards the door of the hospital wing could see no one else but Lee Jordan standing there. He waved at her, and she waved back. Having promised to help Lee and her brothers with a prank on the Ravenclaws later.

She turned back at Harry, who had a blubbering Ron above him, profusely apologising for his broom. y/n shook her head at her brother and patted his shoulder. "Oh, calm down, Ron. Harry knows you couldn't help it. No need to rile yourself up. "

"Exactly." Hermione agreed. "It is the dementors' fault for being inside the grounds in the first place."

"And it was the Whomping Willows' fault for the broom. I swear that tree is absolutely mad. " y/n added, making Harry feel better as Hermione and Ron laughed at her comment. which was, in fact, very true. The Whomping Willow was very strange and just absolutely mad. Not really the safest tree on the school grounds.

"Anyway, don't beat yourself up, Harry." y/n walked to the end of his bed and placed a hand on his leg with a sincere smile. "We'll beat Slytherin in our next match when Malfoy doesn't have a 'broken' arm. I've got to go, but I'll see you three later. "

With a last smile, y/n had walked away from the trio and over to Lee, who had been waiting. Harry's gaze followed her as she walked over to the referee. Something inside him was bubbling, making him look away from y/n, walking off with the older boy.

Maybe that was why she'd never liked him. Harry was a year younger, but he knew that not many girls would choose someone younger. He looked down at his hands. His pale face got painted a crimson colour right across his cheeks. It almost matched his quidditch jumper.

Hermione looked at Harry strangely, then over to where y/n had disappeared. She thought back to how it was as if Harry almost always sought to know what the older girl thought of something or how she was doing. A grin then broke on the bushy-haired girl's face, unable to keep her laugh in as she came to her conclusion.

It made the redhead beside her turn and give her a confused look, then she looked over at the ravenhaired boy, who had no idea what Hermione was laughing at. "What? What got you laughing like a lunatic? " Ron asked, but Hermione didn't answer, a few tears escaping her eyes from laughing.

"Hermione, what?" Harry also asked. This time, Hermione whined her eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm down.

"No, it's just... you know what, it doesn't matter."

Oh boy, oh boy, had Hermione just won the lottery in figuring something out?

Fourth year:

Harry had really been dumb enough to think that his fourth year would be a normal year. He should have understood that this year wouldn't be any calmer than the last three when he had all those nightmares over the summer. Then at the Quidditch World Cup, both the dark mark were cast and the death eaters destroyed the fun. He really should have taken all of that as a sign that this year wouldn't be calm. even when the Triwizard tournament was announced.

But still, here he was. Almost three months into the school year, pacing back and forth in the Champions tent. Waiting for the first task to start. Harry was oblivious to the sympathetic looks he earned from Cedric Diggory and Fleur Delacour of the Beauxbatons Academy. Victor Krum, from Durmstrang Institute, is focused on himself.

How Harry had entered into this was beyond him. However, it appeared that people did not understand that he was not interested in the eternal glory that this tournament would bring. He was already known around the world as the boy who lived. If he just said his last name, everyone knew who he was, which he didn't exactly love.

"You really think I believe you'd want to put your life at risk when a dark wizard is already out for you?"

What she had said, what y/n had said, played over and over in his head. Once more, she showed that she understood him. She was at least intelligent enough to know and notice how much Harry hated the attention he already got for just being himself.

The roar of a dragon made everyone in the Champions' tent look towards where the arena supposedly was. Harry shook his head, and when he met eyes with the Hufflepuff boy, he nodded at him before continuing to pace around.

"Psst!" Harry whipped around at the sound with furrowed brows. "Pssst!"

He walked over towards the back of the tent and listened in. It seemed whoever was there noticed someone else was on the other side, and soon they spoke up. "Harry, is that you?"

"Yeah." He answered, y/n. Her voice calmed him down at least a little. Knowing she trusted him had made it a tad bit easier.

"How are you feeling? Okay?" She didn't get an answer. Only a low sigh. "The key is to concentrate. After that, you just have to—"

"Battle a dragon." Harry stated bluntly, however, when y/n began to scurry around on the other side, it only took her a second before she hugged him. A low whimper left her as she was scared for the boy.

It took him a second to steady himself as y/n had her arms tightly around his neck, hugging him close. But he didn't waste a second in hugging her back, making sure to take the opportunity since they never really hugged like that.

It was the bright flash and click of a camera that made the both of them let go. Both of the teens looked over to where the flash came from, only to find Rita Skeeter. The same journalist who had written the overly exaggerated Harry page in The Daily Prophet. "Young love," The woman sighed dramatically.

"How... stirring." Rita's appearance in the champion tent made all the other champions turn and watch. "If everything goes unfortunately today, you two may even make the front page."

"You have no business here." Viktor Krum appeared behind Rita, an irritated look on his face. "This tent is for champions and friends."

y/n was relieved as she had talked with Viktor on one occasion earlier with Hermione. He happened to not know where the potions class was and asked the two girls for directions. And, maybe, he had been flirting with Hermione then.

"No matter, we've got what we wanted." Another photo of Viktor and Rita disappeared.

Just as Harry turned to ask y/n something, Dumbledore appeared from the back entrance where y/n too had come from. Barty Crouch was behind him. "Good day, champions. Gather 'round please."

Harry moved to stand next to Dumbledore, and y/n, who had no idea of what to do, only grabbed a hold of Harry's wrist. One hand held his sleeve and the other interlocked with his hand. It was hard for the boy to concentrate, but he did his best, holding the Weasley girls' hands gently.

"Now, you've waited, you've wondered, and at last the moment has arrived, a moment only four of you can fully appreciate." y/n looked at Dumbledore as he spoke, still holding onto Harry.

When he was done, however, Dumbledore noticed that something was wrong and looked over at y/n who stood beside him with Harry. The girl looked away from the headmasters, embarrassed. "What are you doing here, Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore curiously asked.

"Oh, um, sorry. I'll just go. " y/n shot a look at Harry as she backed away, relaxing her hold on his hand and quickly sliding out of the tent. causing Harry to look back, slightly perplexed, at the look he received from the older students

Blimey.

——

Harry watched from afar as The Weird Sisters finished the song, all the students at the Yule Ball cheered and stopped dancing.

Just like everything this year, the Yule Ball has not gone much better for Harry than anything else. Even though he wanted to ask y/n he chickened out and tried to ask other girls, but did the same there. Then when he decided that he needed to ask y/n to the ball, he got to hear from the twins that she already had a date. Which he tried to know who it was but y/n refused to tell him.

So now he's sitting there at the ball. He ended up going with Parvati Patil, who had ditched him for a Durmstrang guy, someone older. And Harry now knew who y/n had gone with. Of course, it was Lee Jordan. When he had walked into the great hall for the champions to dance, the green-eyed boy had spotted y/n with Lee.

Just as The Weird Sisters had stopped playing, Harry could spot y/n who had been dancing all night, giving Lee a hug before making her way out of the sea of students. She was beautiful, and Harry hadn't expected anything else. She had a silk dress like many other girls, but hers was the most beautiful to Harry. Her hair done to suit her and a pair of heels.

"I'm leaving." From beside Harry, Ron grumbled, standing up and downing the last of his drink. "You coming?"

"I'll be a bit longer," Harry said, and Ron just shrugged his shoulders before leaving. Clearly not in the mood to see Hermione happy with Viktor, she danced on and on.

Just as Harry turned back to find y/n he saw her walking towards him. When she knew she had cought his attention she pulled a overdramaticly pained face. It made Harry raise his brows in question and when the girl was close enough she sat down on a chair next to him.

"Ouch." She groaned. "Remind me to never dance in heels again." With that she kicked off her shoes and sighed in relife.

"Can't be that bad." The statement earned Harry a slap on the shoulder. Causing him to chuckle at y/n as she got comfortable beside him.

It then got quiet. Harry thought about what to say or ask next. He cast a gaze over his shoulder to see Lee Jordan chatting with Fred and George. Angelina sat by Fred's side as the four older students chatted away. "So, you and Lee, huh?"

It took y/n off guard as she whipped her head vigorously towards Harry with a scrunched up face. "Lee, no, ew. What makes you think me and him are someone? "

"Sorry. I just thought, you know, you went here with him. " y/n and Harry were both flustered. Harry because of his assumption and y/n of how quickly she had denied liking Lee in that way.

"That's because of Fred and George. I didn't have a date and neither did Lee, so they suggested we go together. " y/n explained. "Now, don't get me wrong, I love Lee. He's a close friend of mine and all. But this all he is to me, a friend. Plus, Lee isn't exactly the kind of guy that goes after his best friend's little sister."

Harry felt completely and utterly dumb. So for the past year and a half, he had gone around thinking that y/n liked Lee and Lee liked her. But, it turned out, he still had a chance.

"Oh, okay."

"Well, don't you sound happy?" y/n joked, shaking his head, a smile spreading across his face. "Anyway, your date left you. Did you screw up that badly or is your charm just not working, Potter? "

"Haha, very funny."

They both laughed, not saying anything more. But y/n sighed, bending down and putting in her heels again, making Harry look at her with suspicion as she smoothed out her dress. Turning to Harry, she held out her hand for him to grab, but only earned an even more confused face from the boy.

"Now I won't accept a no. Come on, let's dance." Knowing full well that she wouldn't accept a no, Harry grabbed her hand and, with a smile on his face, let her pull him along to dance.

"One sickle that he confesses first." Fred challenged his twin as they watched the two from afar.

"Two sickles that she confesses first and before she leaves Hogwarts." Geroge shot back at Fred.

"Okay, two sickles that he confesses first."

"Are you two seriously betting on which of your sister and Harry will confess first?" Angelina questioned. The two brothers shared a look before shrugging.

"Okay, then I want two sickles if she confesses first before she leaves Hogwarts and kisses him at the same time." Lee added.

Angelina frowned and sighed, "Oh my god."

Fifth year:

"Make it a powerful memory, the happiest you can remember. Allow it to fill you up. Keep trying, Seamus!" Harry encouraged as Dumbledore's army were in the room of requirement. Harry was teaching them all to produce a patronus charm, though he warned all of them that not every wizard or witch could produce one, so if they were unable to, they shouldn't beat themselves up about it.

Harty walked around and watched as all the students in the army tried to produce their patronuses. Some stood and thought about what happy memories they had as others went straight to try and cast the charm. It was hard. "A full-bodied patronus is the most difficult to produce, but shield forms can also be equally as useful against a variety of opponents."

Harry explained as he walked around. Gratifying Ginny when she produced a unicorn that ran around in the air. It was hard to teach, though. If Dolores Umbridge hadn't taken over as Defense against Dark Arts teacher, they would all have learnt these things. But the pink-wearing woman had only been placed at Hogwarts as a control mechanism for the Ministry.

Harry continued to wander around and explain as Hermione produced an otter as a patronus. It swam around her, making the bushy-haired girl smile. Then he passed Ron, who produced a dog. It ran around the floor and somehow was able to make Neville fall as it ran straight at his legs.

He then continued to walk around, his eyes almost every other second cast towards y/n who stood and thought. Harry frowned as he watched her just stand there, her wand in hand. But what he didn't know was the memory playing in her head.

"No, Harry. I'll be sick if we continue. " y/n laughed as she leaned against the wall in the Great Hall. Watching Hermione continue to dance with Viktor.

"So you drag me to dance and then won't when we do?" Harry asked as he leaned against the wall beside her.

"Potter, you've been spinning me 'round like a mad-man. Of course I'll grow sick of that. " The Weasley spoke matter-of-factly.

"Well, excuse my poor dancing skills then,"

"Shut up."

They both let out sighs. Looking around. y/n was actually quite sad that Ron had left early, but oh well, his problem, not hers. A great number of students had left for bed during the night, but many still danced. Some of these people were Fleur, Cho Chang, Cedric Diggory, Viktor and Hermione, Fred and George, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Seamus, Dean Thomas, and so many more.

Harry looked over at y/n with a smile, still feeling stupid about how he had been thinking y/n liked Lee. His eyes stayed fixated on the girl. She was always able to attract his attention. He knew that in a room full of girls, she would be the only one he'd be looking at.

She turned to say something, but instead caught Harry, who was staring at her. He felt his face heat up, and he looked down at his shoes. It made y/n smile mischievously, turning so she leaned her shoulder against the wall instead of her back. Now fully facing him. "Something the matter, Potter?"

Harry shook his head, looking up from his shoes. But he was caught off guard by y/n moving some of his hair away from his face. It made Harry look at her, a sweet, soft smile plastered on her face. Her e/c eyes were gentle. It made him smile too. A boyish one. A cute one, in y/n's opinion.

"Expecto Patronum," y/n said just as Harry had come over to help her.

A blue, silvery light emitted from her wand as she spoke those two words. The flow of magic made Harry stop and smile as he watched it form into a doe, but something was off about it. The magic animal stood right before the girl, and as he looked closer, Harry could see the faint outline of horns, like it was somewhat becoming a stag. The same as his patronus.

The patronus stag slowly walked around y/n, who wore a smile at the great animal. The horns are still visible. Hermione, who had seen it, walked slowly up to Harry. Her eyes were on the patronus that faded into nothingness when it stopped once more in front of y/n and bowed its head. Hermione tapped Harry's shoulder.

"Harry? Not to be like that, but ehm... doesn't that seem like a stag to you?" Hermione whispered to her friend and earned a look that told her yes.

"And you have the same type of patronus, correct?" Harry nodded, and the look on Hermione's face made him frown.

"What? What's wrong? "

"Oh no, nothing, just... just keep doing your thing." Hermione slid away from her face with a grin like a Cheshire cat. Getting Ginny's attention.

"What is it, Hermione?" The youngest Weasley asked with curiosity.

"I think we can confirm it now." Hermione whispered lowly, which made Ginny gasp.

"Are you sure?" A nod came from the greatest witch of her age.

——

y/n walked through 12 Grimmauld Place. The summer had come quicker than expected. y/n had been helping her mum and dad clean up all their things so they could return to the burrow. But before she left, she had to find him. She needed to check in on him.

She had been looking through the whole place, making her way from room to room. That was until she had walked up to the third level. Looking through the rooms, she had just passed one with the letters R.A.B on the door. y/n had figured out that each bedroom had the family member's initials on them. Further down the hall, one of the doors was closed. She looked into the open room that was a study room, but it was empty. Looking back at the room with the closed door, y/n found the initials she was looking for. S.O.B. Standing for Sirius Orion Black.

She took a breath and gently knocked on the door. She didn't hear anything from inside, so y/n opened the door a little, glancing inside. Inside the room, y/n found Harry sitting on his godfather's bed. His back against her as he looked out through the window.

"Harry?" Her voice was gentle as she opened the door up a little more, waiting for him to give her a sign to leave. But he didn't. Harry only cast a glance over his shoulder before turning his head back. To y/n, that was Harry's way of telling her it was fine to go inside, which it was.

She closed the door gently behind her. Not wanting her parents, siblings, or anyone else from the Order to hear their conversation. She valued Harry's privacy and whatever he told her didn't need to be told to the whole world.

y/n moved slowly around the bed, so she stood at the foot of it. Not far from where Harry sat. She could see him holding the picture of the original Order of the Phoenix. It had been folded so the side facing his face showed his parents, Lily and James Potter, and beside them stood a younger looking Sirius.

"My family is done packing. We're leaving soon if you want to come with us over the summer. " y/n offered to him, unsure of what to say. But Harry only stayed silent. It made Y/N sigh as she moved to stand more in front of him.

When she did, she got a better look at his face. His eyes were slightly red, and his face pulled into a pained look. She didn't sit down if Harry wanted her to leave. "Harry? I'll leave you alone if you want to. " She waited for any sign that she should stay, but when he gave her none, she started to leave.

It was the tugg on her wrist that made her stop walking away. His grip on her wrist was firm, but his gaze was fixed. It made her kneel down in front of him on the bed and move to hold his hand so she could hold it, but his grip tightened. "Don't leave."

"Harry—" "Don't leave." His gaze finally met hers, a few tears streaming down his cheeks. y/n frowned and moved to wipe away the tears, shaking her head.

"I won't. I'll always be here. "

She stood up, brushing Harry's hair out of his face. He didn't care anymore about trying to stay strong, but instead broke down. Harry wrapped his arms around y/n's midsection, catching her off guard as he pulled her towards him. It took a second before she slowly wrapped her arms around Harry's head gently. Hugging him close. She could feel the slight shaking of his shoulders.

"It's fine, I won't leave." Y/N reminded him as she gently stroked his hair.She pulled away slightly from him, but Harry's arms stayed wrapped around her midsection. She looked down at Harry and pulled his face between her hands.

He didn't have his glasses on; they lay on Sirius's nightstand, so he didn't see her very well. But he could make out her face as she looked down at him. y/n brushed his cheek, then the lightning bolt scar on his forehead before hugging him close. And she stood like that, in front of Harry, who quietly let his tears fall as he hugged the girl close, finding comfort in her presence. At times, she whispered comforting words to him while stroking his head. After some time, y/n had leaned her head down to rest on Harry's.

After some time, you suddenly saw the door open. Harry didn't hear it when it squeaked. As the door opened fully, it revealed Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George standing there. They were all quiet as they looked at the two. Ron mouthed something which made y/n move her hand to show them to be quiet. George motioned that it was time to go, clearly feeling sympathy for the boy around y/n's waist. But y/n only waved for the four to leave and close the door. They were doing as she wanted.

So y/n stayed there with Harry, not caring how much time went by. She just wanted the boy to feel better

Sixth year:

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with happiness from all of the students. Everyone was happy that the Gryffindor Quidditch team had won against Slytherin in the snowy weather. It is definitely one of Harry's proudest moments at Hogwarts. He was the captain and they had won.

Harry walked back into the common room with Hermione beside him. The girl had finally calmed down from the heartbreak of seeing Ron with Lavender Brown. Harry patted Hermione's back with a small smile, and the witch smiled in appreciation of her friend. "I'm gonna—"

"Go, Harry." Hermione sighed and smiled at the boy. "I already know what you're planning on doing. You've been nervous all day."

He stayed quiet. He thought he had been very good at hiding the fact that he fancied the older Weasley sister. However, he appears to have been unsuccessful. "How did you—?"

"She's over there, by the window." Hermione pointed out to her friend as she made her way over to Ginny and some other girls. Leaving Harry to stand by himself.

Harry turned and found y/n, as Hermione said, by the window. The older girl stood with a bottle of something in her hand, taking small sips at times. The boy took a breath before making his way over.

"Hey," Harry said, as he awkwardly made his way closer to her. y/n turned with a tired and lazy smile on her face to face him.

"Hi," Harry could tell she was tired because she had been studying for her NEWT level exams, which she had a lot of.He had found her sleeping by the table in the common room a few days erlier, having fallen asleep while studying.

"Tired?" He earned a hum in response as y/n took another sip of her bottle. "Let me guess, Fred and George helped you get that in?"

y/n let out a quiet chuckle at him and nodded her head. He was quick to understand what it was. Of course, it was a smaller bottle of beer. "I haven't been drinking much of it though, if that's what you think."

"No, no, just.. asking." Harry moved to stand beside her.

"Poor 'Mione," y/n told as she looked out through the common room. "Ron really is blind."

Harry hummed. Mind elsewhere as he tried to figure out how to do this. He didn't know if now was the best of times, seeing as y/n were exhausted from quidditch and studying. But Harry also knew that if y/n had taken over as Captain for the team this year too, she would be asleep already. Hence why she'd given over the role as Captain to Harry.

"You're not going to celebrate, Captain? Are you just going to stand here with boring old me?" y/n teased, knowing full well that Harry didn't exactly like to be the centre of attention.

When she got no answer, y/n put her bottle of beer in the indent of the window. She turned so she faced the boy who lived. She could see how deep in thought he was and it made her smile. His green emerald eyes were staring off into the distance. So, she did as she'd done two years earlier on the Yule Ball, the day when the tension between them really grew. She brushed some of his rvaenhair out of his face, the scar becoming visible. Harry turned his face towards her, his eyes locking with hers. His cheeks got red from the eye contact, and y/n could feel hers heat up as well.

Harry found his courage, one of those elements Gryffindor students were to have to be placed in the house to even start with. He moved closer to y/n, eyes at times flickering from her eyes to her lips. y/n thought he was going to make a move, but when he didn't, she leaned in and connected their lips. Her hands gently held his face.

It was a quick kiss, one that was so quick that Harry wasn't even able to react before y/n pulled away. She held his face still in her hands, the boy looking at her slightly shocked. She was now unable to keep from telling him, because who knew what would happened with Voldermort back. "I love you, Harry. I have probably ever since my fourth year, but I really like you."

"Really?" Harry breathed with a boyish grin growing on his face, which made y/n smile at him.

"Really,"

Harry did not waste a second as he leaned in and connected their lips once more, smiles on both their faces. y/ns hands were still on the sides of his face as Harry's hands landed on her hips. After all those years of pining after her, he was now kissing her, and she liked him back, and it was brilliant. Her lips were as soft as he'd imagined. She teased faintly of the beer she's been drinking. This was just perfect.

——

Fire encircled the burrow as Harry sprinted out of it and passed Remus, Tonks, Arthur, and Molly. Both older men called out for him as he ran straight for an opening in the fire, following the evil and psychotic laughter that belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange. The murderer of Sirius. Harry's wand was already in his hand as he rushed after the mad woman. Tonks and Remus followed behind him, but the fire closed the small opening, as if they weren't supposed to leave.

Tonks tried to manipulate the fire with her wand but was not successful in getting a good opening for Remus to run through. Just then, y/n had rushed down the stairs after Harry as they had just talked, pushing past her parents with her wand at the ready. "y/n!" Molly cried after her daughter as she ran straight for the fire and jumped when she had a chance at getting through.

"I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!" y/n heard Bellatrix chant as she followed Harry through the tall grass. Following both the sound of Bellatrix's chanting and the running of Harry.

She continued running as the grass slapped her in the face at how fast she was running, but she didn't care. It was hard to know exactly where Harry had gone. Once heard herself step in what sounded like water, and she stopped. The legs on her pyjama bottoms were getting soaked.

When she heard the sound of someone moving in the tall grass, she turned around. Trying to spot the person. "Harry?" She asked, the wand still in her hand.

But it wasn't Harry. Instead, out stepped Fenrir Greyback. The most known werewolf in the wizarding world, the same werewolf that bit Remus and turned him. The man smiled evilly at y/n who'd started to back away further into the shallow water. She then jumped slightly as Harry came running up behind her and moved in front of her. "Stupefy!" But Fenrir repelled the spell easily.

"Harry!" Remus could be heard calling out as y/n and Harry cautiously turned in every direction to make sure no one was there. But in seconds, Bellatrix and Fenrir began to shoot spells at the two teenagers mercilessly. Harry and y/n standing back to back and repel each spell.

"y/n!" Arthur called for his daughter.

Finally, Tonks, Arthur, and Remus reached the two and stood protectively around them. Harry grabbed Y/N's arm and pulled her towards him as they stood close to one another. They are waiting for another set of spells, curses, jinxes, and hexes to be sent their way. But no more came as the three evil wizards disappeared into black smoke and flew towards the burrow. Seconds later, the house stood in flames.

"Molly." Arthur said in shock as he turned, seeing his house on fire and began to run.

y/n stood wide-eyed before she began to run after her father. Harry followed her swiftly through the tall grass and when they were close y/n slowed. Her childhood home stood before her in flames as all her other siblings, Fred and George, Ginny and Ron, stood and watched on as the house became ash. Molly was hugged by Arthur as they watched.

Harry came up beside y/n, seeing the troubled look on her face as he brushed his pinky finger against her hand. showing he was there. Without a second thought, y/n grabbed his hand and moved closer to him, holding on to him for dear life.

Everything was to get worse. This was just the beginning, and all of them knew it.

And Harry could feel it.

Seventh year (before going for horcruxses):

"I won't leave my family, Harry." y/n told the boy as he sat on her bed. Having come to her before going to bed. Having just gotten to the burrow that night.

He looked up at her from where he sat, his eyes begging her to go somewhere she could be safe instead of staying with her family. He knew that she'd be threatened as she was a known close friend to Harry, or well, for the past six months, known girlfriend.

"You'll be in danger if you stay here, you and your whole family. I don't want you to get hurt because of me anymore. " Harry argued.

"You can't tell me what to do. You may be Harry Potter and my very caring boyfriend, but I'm still old enough to decide whether I want to fight or flee.

"Darling," Harry sighed at her; she was and had always been stubborn."Please."

"I'll be fine, Harry." y/n sat beside him. "I'll be staying with Fred and George at Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes."

Harry turned and faced her, reaching out and brushing some hair out of her face just like she usually did with him. Then, leaning in and placing his forehead against hers, y/n melted into it. sighing as she held his hand.

"I'll be fine,"

"Don't get my hopes up," Harry told her.

"And I want you to come back alive." Y/N stated solemnly.

"I'll be fine,"

"Don't get my hopes up."

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