#and being so caught in each other that they almost step on igor and then apologize to him and laugh like idiots and kiss between giggles

[radioactive-cloud]

idk why i decided to become sappy on a random monday evening but i remembered about the existence of can't help falling in love and thought about it in the context of jan and nace and now i'm smiling like a loon

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Seventeen: Heart or Head?

A/N: This is the seventeenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-17 can also be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below or send me a message if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 1756

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

"Severus. Aria. May I speak with you both?" Dumbledore requested the next morning after breakfast.

The two professors exchanged an awkward glance, rising from either ends of the headmaster, unsure of the old wizard's intentions.

The hall bustled with noise, students and teachers alike eager to escape the great hall, enjoying their last day of freedom before yet another week begun.

The trio remained behind, exchanging not a word nor glance, until Dumbledore spoke once more.

"I assume you know what this is about." Albus questioned, his eyes travelling between the pair suspiciously.

Unable to force their eyes to meet the headmaster's, both Severus and Aria's minds began to race. Each of them suspecting that the other had divulged unto him the events of last night.

"I'm afraid not, Headmaster. Care to enlighten us?" Severus finally found the courage to say.

"As I am sure you were both made aware this morning at breakfast, Professor Karkaroff has found himself in a rather unfortunate state." Dumbledore explained, his eyes still surveying their faces through the top of his glasses.

Aria let out a huge sigh of relief, glad that Snape had not humiliated her further. Severus too was more than thankful his employer remained unaware that he had both seduced and rejected his beloved granddaughter in the early hours of the morning.

"What does that have to do with us, Grandfather?" Aria asked innocently, knowing fine well who was responsible for the wound.

"Nothing, as for as I'm aware." Dumbledore hummed. "There is no concrete evidence of what happened to Igor has anything to do with the two of you. However, given that the two of you, along with Professor Karkaroff were significantly late to breakfast, and given the state in which the two of you look, I have my suspicions."

"And what reason would either Miss Dumbledore or myself have for harming the man in question?" Severus retorted. "And surely you must be aware that I, as I always am on October 31st, was in my office until the small hours of this morning. I cannot, however, speak for your granddaughter's whereabouts, and why she looks so uncharacteristically dishevelled this morning."

The potions master glared at his apprentice out the side of his eye. It was the first he had dared to look at her all morning. Her face was bare; clearly she had made no effort to apply a face of makeup this morning, but a slight trace of eyeliner and mascara was still visible around her tired puffy eyes. She had hastily scraped her hair back into a tight ponytail, a half-hearted attempt to salvage her borderline greasy hair. Admittedly it was the worst he had saw her look since their meeting, but even then he could still appreciate her true beauty. Once again Severus Snape found himself getting lost in the woman's features, enchanted by her mere presence.

"The party." She blurted uncontrollably, upon noticing her mentor staring. "The Halloween party, it went on very late. I apologise, I should have been more responsible." She turned to the headmaster.

"Very well. I believe the two of you have very solid alibis, therefore I have no reason to suspect you any longer. As of now Igor is yet to come forward about the incident, so until he does, that is if he does, the two of you are... what's the phrase? 'Off the hook'." Albus said, raising an eyebrow, throwing his hands in the air.

Sensing that the pair were very eager to leave, Dumbledore took his chance to stop them once more.

"I would, however, like to make it known that Igor Karkaroff, along with the rest of Durmstrang school are here as our guests and should be treated with the utmost respect by Hogwarts students and Professors alike. However first and foremost, Aria, you are my granddaughter. And if a problem had to occur, that deserves appropriate repercussions, I should hope that any of my professors would be able to confide in me. And the issue would be dealt with by me, and me only. That being said; is there anything you would like to tell me, my dear granddaughter?"

She remained silent. Her eyes once again falling to the floor.

"And you Severus? You have never lied to me before. Is there anything you have to say on the matter?"

Snape paused for a moment in deliberation, remembering the promise he had once made to obey his employer entirely.

"Like I said. I was in my office all night." He lied, never once looking away, breaking his gaze.

The headmaster looked between the pair, disappointed and frustrated.

"You may go." He sighed.

Taking off in the blink of an eye Professor Snape disappeared from the great hall, his assistant following not far behind.

"Severus, wait." The young professor called out, trying to rush her way past the small clusters of students that filled the halls.

The potions master slowly came to a halt, clearly unsure whether he wanted to hear what she inevitably had to say.

"I want to talk about last night." She confessed, lowering her voice as she caught up with the potions master.

In three large strides Severus Snape turned to the woman, grabbing onto her forearm and walking her backwards into the hard castle wall. It was obvious he was paranoid of anyone, student or staff, overhearing what she was about to say regarding the events of the previous night.

Taken aback by his sudden movements Aria took a moment to catch her breath. Meanwhile Snape had gathered his thoughts on the matter.

"I am unsure of what you are referring to Miss Dumbledore, but as far as the staff are aware we never crossed paths last night, and I would like to keep it that way. Forget about whatever you want to say, anything that may or may not have happened is now considered null and void. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

Almost instantly Aria found herself becoming defensive in the face of the Professor's aggression. She had come to him with heartfelt intentions, but she'd be damned if she allowed another man to walk all over her again. She was quickly tiring of Severus' yo-yoing insight on their friendship.

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot say, Professor." Aria said, ripping her arm from her colleague's grasp. "However much you'd like to erase the of memory of the two of us, at this moment in time it remains a reality, and I have something to say on the matter. I will not let you silence me for nothing but your own benefit."

"Very well." Snape huffed, slightly impressed that she had stood up to him. "Say what you have to say, if you must, but be quick about it, I would like to enjoy the last day of the weekend without you pestering me for once."

"I wanted to apologise." The witch admitted, raising her head to lock eyes with her mentor.

Snape cocked an eyebrow curiously, silently permitting her to go on.

"I want to apologise for... for try to take things a bit too far last night. I shouldn't have expected you to... well, you know." She shrugged, eyes darting below Snape's belt.

"There is no need for an apology, Miss Dumbledore. After all, it was I who initiated the whole... situation. Like I said, I would prefer if it could be forgotten about to entirely."

"But Severus I- "

Snape held up a palm, signalling for her to stop.

"It was a mistake." He insisted. "You were drunk, Aria, and I took advantage, it was wrong of me. Besides, you're in a relationship, and I would very much appreciate if I were to remain entirely uninvolved in any of your possible drama."

Aria's multiple attempts at interrupting went unsuccessful. Snape was adamant that he wanted to forget the whole thing, therefore it was clear to Aria any attempt at convincing him otherwise would be futile.  Sensing the finality in his tone Miss Dumbledore took a step away from him, letting him go.

"Just one last thing." She blurted, causing Severus to pause halfway down the corridor. "We broke up. Just, if that means anything to you."

Aria waited hopefully for him to turn back to face her, but he never did. It was clear he had heard her but had chose not to acknowledge her words as he disappeared into the labyrinth that is Hogwarts.

*

Once again Severus Snape found himself consumed in thoughts of his assistant. Ever since his lips touched hers he couldn't get his mind off of her. With no idea what had come over him to make a move, he was sure she would reject him. But when he found that no only had she returned his kiss, but was willing to go further, panic set in.

He wanted nothing more than to let her do it. To just let her hands wander freely over his naked body, allowing him to do the same to her. He could have had her right there in his office if he wanted, but he was scared. Scared that he was right about what he said all those weeks ago in the Three Broomsticks, or scared that she would change her mind all together, but mostly he was scared that after it all, if she did actually go through with it that is, she still had a boyfriend and he would inevitably be tossed aside, forgotten and rejected all at once.

So, he convinced her, and himself, that it had all been one drunken mistake, and that it meant nothing to him. He refused to let her think for one second that he feelings of any kind for her. He would not allow himself to be humiliated by her of all people.

It would all have gone just as he had planned if Aria hadn't said those few words. 'We broke up'. Why did she tell him that? What difference did it make to him? Was she trying to get in his head? Or was she trying to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear?

Deliberating over the meaning of her confession kept the potions master preoccupied all day. In his heart he wanted to believe that she felt just as he did. But his head told him no one would ever be able to love a beast like him.

Soon enough all of Snape's uncertainty was to be put to rest by a single knock at the door.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel​

@lizlil​

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XXXV

A/N: And after another delay brought to you by me being in classes again... I bring a very exciting chapter! I’ve been super excited for this one ever since I began the Russian arc, so now that it’s here I think that’s very cool!! That said, I hope you enjoy, and I will present it without further ado! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

--

Asta had been unable to stop pacing all day. Ivar was used to battle, she knew this, had seen him fight and defend and attack with her own eyes, but that hadn’t taken away any of her anxiety as she’d watched him leave with Oleg. The decision, ultimately, was that she should stay with Katia and Igor, just in case they needed defense while Oleg and Ivar were away. But that didn’t make her feel any better about being left behind.

She wondered if this wasn’t, at one point, how her family had felt watching her leave Wessex. Had her family, and Lagertha, Torvi, Björn, and Ubbe felt this way watching her go? Knowing she was going to Ivar, who they could not trust, and Hvitserk who they hoped they could? Had even Hvitserk felt this way, watching her leave Kattegat with Ivar, uncertain entirely of the future she would have with him? If it was, she felt suddenly that she owed them a great apology. Of course, not all she had said goodbye to still lived for her to even apologize to them, but that was part of the fear.

What if something happened there in Kiev, while he was away, and she was not there when he returned? What if he did not return? There were no bad feelings when he left, quite the opposite inf act, but that didn’t mean there was nothing left to be resolved.

Now, standing beside Katia and looking out over Kiev, Asta swallowed. “I don’t like this,” she confessed, glancing briefly over at the woman. “I have faith in Ivar, I’m sure he’ll come home, but…” She paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I’ve lost people to battle, but I can’t stand to think of losing him now. Not like this…”

Katia smiled at her, and reached over to put a hand over hers, before focusing her eyes back out over the city as well. “You love him,” she said. “Of course you cannot stand to think of losing him.” Asta’s eyes turned to Katia, then, watching her. She chuckled halfheartedly.

“You say that like it’s so easy,” she replied. “I’ve risked all I think I can for a person, for him. I’ve lost so much, so many people, and I find that now, being unable to be at his side, to know I can protect him if something happens…”

“You think you would make a difference?” Katia asked her.

“I could have with Freydis.”

It wasn’t healthy, necessarily, to blame herself for what she couldn’t have been there for, to hold herself responsible for what had happened when she was away- she and Katia both knew that- but that didn’t change anything. Asta believed if she had gone instead, or had gone sooner, she could have saved her. It was a common thought she had, even after she and Ivar had finally been reconciled about this, that if she had just …

Silence fell over the two women as they stood there, each of them waiting for something hopefully good. After another long while of hearing nothing, of no news, Katia asked, “Did Ivar… say anything to you? Before he left?”

“I wish you could come.”

Asta chuckled, a bitter sound, as she rolled her eyes. “You could let me come,” she argued. “This isn’t a matter of if I can or can’t, it’s a matter of what you want me to do. Oleg hasn’t forbidden it!”

“Of course he has not forbidden it. You challenge him, his authority, and he wants to be rid of you. If you go, I do not think you will return,” he said.

“And why do you think I wouldn’t be alright?” she questioned him sharply. “If he tried anything-”

“If he tried anything, and you fought back, neither outcome is good,” he said. “If you survive, we are going to be in a very precarious situation. If he survives, I will have lost you.”

Asta scoffed. “What, and he won’t try something if I’m alone here? Who do you expect to have my back here, hm? Katia? Igor?  You’re the one who has my back, Ivar.”

“You seem to think I like this,” he said, rolling his head back a bit. “Who will have my back out there? Not you, because you will be here. We will have to have our own backs this time.”

The irony was, of course, that they’d never fought together before. Even at the Siege of Kattegat, she had stayed with Freydis. The one time across those battles she hadn’t been with her, she had been killed. She left her home, and her family all died except for Alfred, and Lagertha had died as well. She knew what Ivar was truly asking of her was protection for Igor, but it didn’t make her any less unsettled about being unable to protect him.

“Then promise me you will,” she said seriously. Ivar looked at her with a lifted brow, clearly not fully understanding her meaning. “Promise me you will have your own back, and that you’ll come back to me.”

At this, Ivar’s expression softened, and he brought a hand up to her face. “I will come back to you, Asta,” he swore. “But promise me you will be here when I return, hmm?”

Asta smiled and leaned into his touch. “I will,” she promised.

It was no surprise to either of them when Ivar kissed her, nor was it when her hands moved to frame his face between them, holding him close for the last time before he left with Oleg. And Ivar, in return, held onto Asta, wanting to keep her close before he had to leave her there with Katia and Igor.

“I’ll see you soon,” he mumbled against her lips, holding her jaw in his hand. For such a feared man, a warrior known and respected throughout much of the world, he had a gentle touch, Asta noticed. He was a dream, one she doubted she’d ever wake up from at this point. She didn’t want to.

“He only promised to return to me,” she said. “And I promised to be here when he returned.”

“Do you trust him?” Katia asked. Asta nodded without hesitation. “Then trust he will come home to you.

Asta let out a soft sigh, turning back to the Princess. “Thank you, Katia,” she said. “You’re right. I just wish it were as easy as you make it sound.”

Katia laughed lightly, and put her hand on Asta’s arm. “They will be home before we know it,” she said. “And you will have done your job of protecting Igor and myself.”

“From a threat that never came,” Asta pointed out.

“Or so we hope.”

No threat ever did come, and before long, the scouting parties were returning, coming home from their journey down toward Kattegat and Vestfold in Norway and finding their way back to Kiev. It was hard for Asta not to run out to the gates to greet them, wanting desperately to be reunited with Ivar.

The gates opened, and she and Katia stood together, Igor between them, at the door of the palace. Of course, Asta only made it until she saw Ivar, at which point she stepped forward, and decided she’d rather meet him halfway than wait until he reached her. When they finally did meet, Asta wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck and holding him like a lifeline, feeling more secure than ever as his arm secured around her waist.

“I told you I would come back to you,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Did you not believe me?”

“Of course I believed you,” she said. “But it doesn’t take away from the relief I feel at having you home.”

Ivar smiled softly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, moving his arm so it wrapped around her shoulders, and he could hold the back of her head against himself with his hand. “I am here now, Asta,” he whispered. “All is well.” He lit up, remembering something he knew would please her very much, and said, “Ah, before I forget. I have also brought you a gift.”

“A gift?” she questioned, looking up at him curiously. “What gift?”

There was a sound of someone clearing their throat, and Asta looked around Ivar toward the source of the sound, only to find a very familiar face standing there.

“Should I give you two some time and come back later?” he asked with a teasing smirk.”

“Hvitserk!”

Hvitserk grinned at her, and stepped forward just in time to catch the Shieldmaiden as she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck and holding him tightly. “Hello, Princess,” he greeted, and she pulled back to look up at him with a small roll of her eyes.

“You know that’s not who I am anymore,” she said, earning a chuckle from Hvitserk.

“I do,” he agreed.

Looking up at him now, Asta’s brows creased, and concern suddenly embedded in her features. “Hvitserk,” she said. “Hvitserk, are you sick?”

His eyes were bloodshot, his hair stringy and barely pulled out his face, skin pale as though he’d barely seen sun in the time since she and Ivar had left Kattegat. She was reminded rather uncomfortably of the strange sight of this she’d caught back when he had been training her, and she had finally defeated him in a fight. That strange moment, then, had been a vision, as much as she’d never expected that to be the explanation. A vision just like the one which had allowed her to defeat Björn Ironside. It had come true. Hvitserk was just as sick as she’d seen that he would be.

“You could say that,” he answered with an almost avoidant chuckle.

Asta sighed, and gave a small shake of her head. “You look dead,” she said, and this earned a far fuller laugh from the man in question.

“I feel it,” he said.

“Then we should get you inside, and warm you up,” Asta suggested. “I’m sure we have much to share with each other, as long as it’s been.”

The three of them walked inside, and soon found a small lounge where they could be alone. Of course, they had run into Igor, and been unable to tell the boy no. So, he was now sitting with them, as Hvitserk had a warm drink, Ivar sat beside him, and Asta tended the fire. Hvitserk had begun to recount how he’d ended up wandering through the woods half dead, but when he mentioned the paranoia that Ivar was going to come and find him, along with the increase of alcohol consumption, Ivar finally interrupted.

“Our brother has poisoned your mind, convincing you that I was your enemy,” he said. “I am not your enemy.”

Hvitserk didn’t respond, instead simply putting a nut of some kind in his mouth, and watching Ivar as he ate it. Asta looked between him, Ivar, and Igor, who was also snacking on a bowl of nuts, before looking back to Ivar, as he put a hand on Hvitserk’s shoulder.

“Get well, get strong,” he told his brother. “We shall unleash our forces against our brothers. They will bear witness to our triumph, hmm?”

Asta nearly chuckled and rolled her eyes. Of course, Ivar’s response to the treatment Hvitserk had received was to threaten those who had treated him that way. It made sense for him, hence her amusement, but she didn’t show it. Not with this being the context. Hvitserk did chuckle, at least a little, though, and so she allowed herself a small smile as Ivar patted Hvitserk’s shoulder, and pulled his hand back. He stood, and started for the door, Igor following him. However, Asta didn’t move. She still intended to speak with Hvitserk.

This came as no surprise to Ivar, but what Hvitserk did next certainly did. He sat up a bit, and spoke. “I killed her, Ivar.”

A sick feeling of dread began to settle in Asta’s stomach, feeling nearly certain as to who Hvitserk was referencing. Ivar, however, did not know who he spoke of, and so turned back with a rather confused expression on his face, brows drawn and eyes questioning.

“It was me,” Hvitserk said. “Not you. Me. I killed her, and now she’s dead.”

A weighted moment passed between them, before Ivar asked, “Who?”

“You know who,” Hvitserk answered. “Lagertha.”

More words were exchanged, but Asta found herself not quite paying attention as her suspicions were confirmed. Her eyes slipped shut, and her brows creased as that ache in her chest returned. It disturbed her to see how nearly pleased with himself Hvitserk was at Lagertha’s murder, at the murder Asta herself had felt. Her eyes didn’t open again until the door was shutting, signalling Ivar’s and Igor’s departures, and leaving her alone with a still chuckling Hvitserk. She took a deep breath.

“You must be proud,” Asta said, looking up at Hvitserk. “Lagertha was a famous shieldmaiden, known all over the world. To be the one who killed her…”

Hvitserk chuckled and shook his head. “That is not why I laugh, Princess,” he said, and straightened a bit in his seat, patting the space beside him. Asta stood, and crossed the room to sit there.

“Then why?” she asked. Her voice had softened, and she took his hand in her own. “Hvitserk, I felt her death. It woke me in the night, coming to me in the middle of a horrible dream, and I couldn’t even bring myself to tell Ivar, though he could tell something was wrong.”

A grin spread across his lips. “Ivar didn’t do it, in the end. All his talk of his promise to kill Lagertha, and he didn’t do it. I did.”

He didn’t expect the sad look in her eyes, nor the pained smile she offered him. “Hvitserk,” she said. “What happened to you? The last time I saw you… You didn’t want to beat Ivar to anything, you wanted to stop him. What changed?”

“What had I ever done before this?” Hvitserk asked her. “Huh? Before killing Lagertha? I helped Ivar take Kattegat, I helped Björn take it back. But what did I ever do?” He paused, and chuckled softly. “I killed Lagertha.”

He watched her take a breath, and swallow, her eyes returning to the fire once more. “How did it happen?” she questioned. “I know- knew - her. She’d have died well. So how’d it happen?”

Hvitserk shifted, unable to keep his eyes on her when she looked back at him, and so now glancing toward the fire. But he could feel her eyes on him, and as he sat there, something in him seemed to shift. He swallowed. “I didn’t even mean to do it,” he confessed. “I was drunk, had taken some mushrooms, and… I thought-” A pause. “You cannot tell Ivar what I am going to tell you.”

Asta’s brows creased, and she found Hvitserk finally looking back at her. She nodded, indicating whatever he told her would stay between them. He let out a relieved breath, and continued.

“I thought she was him,” he said. “Ivar. She was already wounded when I found her in the streets, crawling toward the Great Hall, and…” He took in a shuddering breath. “Aethelind, I killed her. I stabbed her, again and again and again, until I saw her clearly, and the worst thing… She told me it was okay.”

Asta watched with a sharp pain in her chest as he fell apart there, a choked sob leaving his throat. He collapsed in on himself and she immediately moved to wrap her arms around his shoulders, pulling him tightly against her. “Hvitserk…” she breathed out, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I didn’t want to kill her, and then Ubbe and Björn…”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know, darling. I’m so sorry. I never would have expected that from them. But you’re here now with Ivar and myself, and we’re here for you. We love you, Hvitserk. Even if Ivar isn’t the best at showing it.”

That was all it took for Hvitserk to reach out and cling to her, holding Asta as if she were his last tether to this world, and she held him tightly, as if she intended to keep him right there where he was safe. And, truthfully, he doubted he’d felt so safe in a long time. Not that, of course, he really felt like he deserved it, but he also felt like she wouldn’t hear it if he tried to bring that up. He instead decided on gratitude.

“Thank you, Aethelind,” he said, and she chuckled softly.

“Oh, yes,” she began. “My name… hasn’t really been Aethelind for a long time, now. It actually feels weird to be called that again.”

Hvitserk sat up far quicker than she would have expected, looking at her with wide eyes. “You are no longer Aethelind?” he asked her in shock. “Then who are you?”

“I’m Asta now,” she answered. “Officially, Queen Asta the Prophet. But I really just tend to go by Asta.”

Hvitserk blinked a little at the title. “ Queen Asta?” he questioned. “Who- when did you-?”

“Ivar,” she said. He looked like he could have passed out.

“ You have married Ivar?! ” he managed to get out. Asta chuckled a little.

“Yes and no?” she answered vaguely. “Actually, you should know our story. We’ve claimed that I’m his wife ever since we arrived here, pretty much. Oleg, you’ll meet him, mistook me for such and for my own safety, we never clarified. The story goes that I was a wanderer, led to Kattegat by the gods, and Ivar and Freydis took me in. He and I fell for each other, and Freyids and I became very close. So, out of her love for us, and wanting us to be happy, she suggested we marry, and he took me for his second wife. He and I escaped together after the Siege of Kattegat, and the rest is history.”

Hvitserk blinked a few more times after that. He remembered teasing her before she left, trying to decipher what had sent her with Ivar, if there was something more to her desire to ensure he wasn’t alone, than simply a good heart. But this was all rather… well, why would this ‘Oleg’ have believed them to be married in the first place? Were they acting like they were when they arrived? All of those questions circulated in his mind, but the truth was, he figured one answer would probably shed some light on them.

“So, what really is happening between you and Ivar?” he asked. “You’re not really married I take it, so…?”

She gave a small sigh, smiling sadly. “Doesn’t mean we don’t wish to be,” she confessed. Hvitserk’s eyes widened. That definitely explained a lot.

“Then why aren’t you?” he questioned. “I mean, if you both want it, right? Why not…?”

“Because if I ever see my brother again, there’s no way this would go over well. Not to mention we’ve already been saying we’re married. How are we to explain cropping up wanting to get married when we supposedly are already?” Hvitserk nodded, as if she presented very valid arguments.

“So… what are you two doing about it?” he asked.

Asta shrugged. “Just… living as though it’s true, for as long as we can.”

And these words brought another revelation to Hvitserk. They didn’t think they had forever. Asta and Ivar believed they were running on borrowed time. That was concerning as well, and he found himself wondering just what was going on, that Ivar had told him none of this, and Asta seemed so hesitant to just do what she wanted with Ivar. It all left a rather dreadful, sinking feeling in his gut, and he suddenly felt far less certain of his fate in Rus than he had before. 

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[hs-devote]

19. A F T E R T A S T E

Moodboard // Content // Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

Previous chapter;

Everything went creepy silence along with Anne’s deafening scream. She blinked softly, lolling her head towards her boyfriend. She didn’t know why she was smiling like nothing happened. The last thing she knew, she smelt her own blood soaking her face as her breath slackened.

19. AFTERTASTE

He never knew he would en route to a hospital when he was on holiday. The forty-five minutes drive from a suburb to the city centre was a critical moment he had ever experienced. He could be a little relieved that the traffic seemed not that bad and hope they could make it on time, or else, he couldn't imagine anything worse. He never thought he could lay his hand off of a girl, let alone his girlfriend. He didn't know what demons summoned him and made him harmed his lover. The important thing was, all was his work. Not Marcel. Purely his anger boiling his blood and he let it controlled him.

The accident was just a few hours ago, and of course it was still fresh in his mind. He remembered clearly when Anne caught them and screaming like a mad woman. At that moment, his lover had lost consciousness. It was like he had just been thrown by a bucket of cold water and woke him up from the fact that his hands were covered by fresh blood.

He remembered Anne shoved him away and tried to wake Y/N up. His mother was rushed to call Niall at the time while he was just silent standing in the corner watching the scene unfolded before his eyes. He was standing like a complete idiot when Anne yelled him to do something, yet he didn't bother to move his body. He saw with his own eyes his best friend made an appearance; shocked by the state of the woman in his arms. His ears were ringing as he watched his mother tell his best friend what she just saw, only for him to got a sharp glance from Niall before he immediately carried Y/N's body out.

And they left him alone.

Only to make him realise what he had done.

He was smacked by reality when he saw his hands. Wet and dirty of the blood. Behind his head, he could feel Marcel was scoffing out of his consciousness.

See. Who's the monster now, Harry? I never thought to hurt her, you know? Maybe you're the demon, not me.

It took him fifteen minutes to call his mother. And thanks to God, she was willing to pick up the call and told him where they took his girlfriend. Knowing the hospital was in the city centre, he immediately ran to his car and drove as fast as he could.

And now, here he was.

When he arrived, it was almost midnight, and the hospital was less crowded. This time, Anne didn't answer his call so he didn't know where his lover was. Surely, they would take her to the ER. But, this hospital had a few ER and he didn't know which one Y/N was in.

To be honest, his heart was racing rapidly since he had this wild thought spinning around his head. What if she had serious bleeding? What if it caused a traumatic effect? Or the worst, he could have killed her.

His steps were unsteady and full of fear as he passed each room, his eyes reading every single signboard. Hoping to find where the ER was. He couldn't count for Anne because he was sure that his mother was mad with him now. Then, his feet stopped when he saw the room he was looking for was at the end of the hall. Yet, no one was there.

Where were his mother and Niall?

His steps felt heavy when he wanted to get closer, his body was sweating. However, his breath seemed to stop when he saw the door being opened showing a doctor pulling a bed from inside with a body completely covered with a white blanket from head to toe, with the help of several nurses beside the bed.

At that very second, Harry felt his world was crumbling.

His world slowed down only for his eyes to witness something before his eyes.

Harry felt numb, body frozen like a statue and every time he tried to speak or opened his mouth, he had no strength or nothing could come out of his mouth. No, he did nothing. Definitely nothing, until just the ER doors were on his view. He no longer saw the stifling sight.

At that very moment, he just realised that he lost his love.

Forever.

. . . . The last time he cried was when he lost Igor. On that day, Harry felt everything around him had faded away. Everything was gloomy and hollow. There was a feeling of regret in his heart for not being to able to keep his father company on his last days. But this time, his feeling was hundreds percent worse because he knew, Y/N lost her life because of him.

Guilt.

Fear.

Anger.

Regret.

Emptiness.

All drained his feelings and tears. He didn't know how long he had been in this chapel, poured out his heart in sob to God. Only in this place he could find peace – for a moment. He knew maybe right now God was angry with him, but he didn't know who else would listen to him.

His eyes shut closed, his head lowered letting his tears fall down soaked his crucifix necklace that was gripped tightly between his joining hands. The way his shoulders shaking when he pronounced her name in his prayer, Harry couldn't endure the pain and devastation that was eating him away.

He kept praying until he felt his tears were running out and felt a little better. And when he stepped out from the chapel, he tried to brace himself and find Anne. He was resigned if after this his mother would be furious with him. Because he deserved it.

Harry walked unsteadily with swollen eyes, seeing the hospital was still quiet even though it was already dawn. Along the corridor, his mind was out of the place as he clutched his mobile phone tightly, tried to call Anne but wasn't answered. Then, his mind started to realise the fact he had to call Brenda and Calvin that their daughter was gone.

“Harry.”

His eyes found his mother was standing a few meters in front of him, looking all tired and sleep-deprived.

“Where have you been?” He cleared his throat, “I was on the chapel before I get here.”

Anne sighed, “I was looking for you, Harry. Come with me, you have to see Y/N's condition.”

What?

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Mum, you must be joking. Y/N.. Y/N.. she's gone." he stopped because the stinging sensation burnt his eyes, he could no longer bear tears. "I.. I saw they took her body. They had a white blanket that covered her body. Death took her away."

“Harry– ” “I couldn't even say goodbye, mum. I had no chance to say I love her.” he whispered, “She's gone because of me. I killed her. I– ”

“Harry, she's alive!”

Once again, he chuckled while laughing mockingly. “Mum, please. I just killed her, you saw– ” He startled when Anne grabbed his hand and dragged him with her, he didn't know where she would take him. However, they stopped in front of an ICU. From the small window at the door, he could see Y/N was lying unconscious with the help of oxygen mask and wires stuck in her body.

Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing now. His love that he thought had left him, was surviving with the help of medical machines. He unconsciously pinched his arm and thanking God that this was all real and not only his delusion.

But, how could?

“She was bleeding heavily in the head and doctors had to take surgery to save her. She was past the critical period and according to them, she would wake up by the midday." Anne mumbled in her breath, "You could visit her but only ten minutes in each visiting hours."

“How can this be real?” Harry whispered, “I saw the doctors pulled someone out of the ER covered with blanket and I thought it was her. Because I thought she was the only one in there.”

“I think you were seeing the wrong person, H. They did perform the surgery in the ER and after the surgery was successful, they transferred her to this room.”

Harry didn't say anything, his eyes were still staring closely at his girlfriend with full of emotion, happiness, and relief. Deep down in his heart, he thanked God for the miracle. Even he couldn't say anything to express his gratitude and was given the chance to atone for all his behaviour.

Slowly, he stepped away and sat down on a chair not far from here. He leaned back, raising his head, and closed his eyes briefly to digest what had happened in the twenty-four hours. When someone tapped his shoulder, he immediately opened his eyes and saw Anne sitting beside him.

“Care to explain?”

The way Anne asked him in a soft yet worried tone surprised him a bit. He didn't expect his mother would be so calm and rational as to ask him what exactly happened.

“We were having a fight. And that was all my fault. I knew she was trying to help me, to fix me because she cares about me so much. But, I thought that everything she did was wrong. All of them. I called her a liar because she was kinda lying about Niall to me. Then I told her I didn't need her help to fix me. We started to scream at each other, she admitted she was tired of my lack behaviour and all the problems." he began, "Which I understand because I know how hard she tried to help me, with everything."

“And why did you hurt her, Harry? This is not like Harry I know..”

“Uh," his nervousness increased, "I called her.. slut. She was furious. Then she said all of this mess is because of my behaviour. Because of my .. disorder."

He never thought he would honestly tell his mother about his disorder in this way. He could no longer hide this matter. He didn't want other problems to arise because of the things he hid. Anne herself frowned at what her son just said.

“Pardon?”

But, he couldn't be honest about everything.

“I have an anger issue which I can't control my temper easily.” he lied, “That's why I couldn't take what she said to me. It angered me so much that made me hit her. I was blinded by my emotion.”

“You know what, Harry? I'm so mad at you that I can't even show it. I can't imagine what would happen if we were late. I can't imagine how her parents will feel.” she sighed, “Even I don't know what to do with you. You're an adult and you should be aware of all your actions.”

“I'm sorry mum. I know what I did was a huge mistake that nothing can fix it."

“Don't. Apologise to Y/N, to her family.”

“Where's Niall? I don't see him around.” asked Harry, “I also have to apologise to him.”

“He left earlier because I asked him for help to transferred Y/N to the St. Thomas once she gets better." his mother answered, "We couldn't possibly let her out of our sight."

“Oh, Harry. I think you should call her parents and tell them what happened. I believe Y/N will feel better if her parents come."

. . . . Brenda was screaming when she got the news from Harry. The man himself swore that his girlfriend's mother cried on the phone before she gave the phone to Calvin. He didn't explain to them what exactly happened, he only said that Y/N had an accident and her head injury made her ended in ICU.

Later that afternoon, Brenda and Calvin made an appearance in hurry. And surprisingly, Connor came with them. This was the first time Harry met Y/N's brother in person.

Harry was a bit relieved when Calvin and Brenda weren't suspicious of him. But on the other hand, Connor was throwing a sceptical look on him.

Y/N regained consciousness an hour after her family arrived, with her parents by her side. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was her parents, and it made Harry feel touched. Of course he wanted to be the first person that Y/N saw but that was impossible for now. He knew she would hate him after this.

"What actually happened, Harry?” Connor finally opened his mouth, “You didn't tell us what exactly the accident was.”

“She.. fell.”

“Fell?” Connor arched his eyebrow, “Just.. fell?” Harry didn't speak any further.

“If she just fell, why did she hit her head?” Connor scoffed, “I'm a paramedic, don't lie to me.”

“She fell in the bathroom and hit her head on the toilet bowl. When she wanted to stand again, her legs weakened and made her fell and hit the wall.”

Liar..

The sound of the door opening made Connor discouraged from strafing Harry with lots of questions. Brenda and Calvin came out of the room relieved yet confused faces.

“How's her Mum? Dad?" Connor asked waiting for his parents to come to sit with him.

“She looks tired and restless, but she's okay.” Calvin began, “The doctor says she will be fine. But..”

“But?" Connor repeated his father word with a raised eyebrow. Meanwhile, Harry was only listening from afar. His attention was distracted when his mother came and brought him a drink.

“She lost a little of her memory.”

Harry was flabbergasted when Brenda softly said that. No way Y/N lost her memory. The doctor said nothing when he finished examining her. Anne who sat next to him just rubbed his shoulder; giving him moral support.

“But the doctor said nothing earlier?” Connor squeaked.

“It's because we said so. He told us that inside after checking her. He said no need to worry as it's only temporary and she will gain her memory back in a few days. The last thing she remembers is when we were celebrating Christmas together."

“She hit her head pretty hard so it made her lost her memory a little.”

Harry didn't know whether to feel relieved or uneasy. It was meant Y/N forgot about their fight and the accident and would act like nothing happened. But, in a few days, she would remember everything. And maybe, it would make her hate him.

“Harry.”

He lifted his head, finding Brenda who gave him a small smile.

“Brenda.” he rose up from his seat, nodding his head slightly.

“Thank you. I don't know what would happen if you were late bringing her to the hospital. Thank you for looking after her while waiting for us to come."

“You don't need to thank me, Brenda. I'm the one who should apologise for not being able to take care of her until she had to have this accident.” he said softly, “I'm sorry for being careless.”

“After all, this was an accident, nothing intentional. No one wants this, Harry." Calvin chimed in, "And for Mrs Styles, thank you for the help for our daughter transferred to London. At least we can stay at her apartment if she's hospitalised there."

“No need to thank me, Mr Y/L/N. It will be easier for all of us to look after her if she's in London.” Anne smiled, “If Y/N feels better, she can be transferred. Of course with your permission.”

“Of course. We will also tell her first.” Brenda nodded, “I hope she gets better soon.”

. .

. . The second day being hospitalised, Y/N hadn't gained her memory back yet. She was being her normal behaviour towards Harry, but it made him even more guilty. He let Brenda and Calvin having more time with their daughter because he knew Y/N needed her parents most. During that too, he took the chance to call his lawyer – asking for the progress. He also secretly monitoring the company under Lucas' control. He could breathe a little relieved since his cousin was able to gradually lobby their clients to work with Erskine again.

Plus, Dale Jespersen had been successfully arrested and the trial will be held soon. Before that, he would meet both Dale and Victoria tomorrow in London to asking for an explanation for their crimes.

“Where have you been?"

Harry smiled softly hearing Y/N's voice after he shut the door. Her parents had returned to Swansea and would come again to accompany their daughter after she was transferred to London. They also have to prepare because they would stay in London for a few days.

“My client called me. I didn't want to bother you so..” he shrugged, “How are you feeling, darling?” he stepped closer, sitting on the edge of her bed. His hand raised to stroke her hair.

“Much better,” she smiled, “I can't wait to get home.”

“Well, I'm afraid you have to be still hospitalised for another few days." he smiled softly, "We'll move you to London in two or three days, tops. But, I have to go back to London tomorrow morning and probably will be back the day after tomorrow morning. Is it okay? I have to check for your preparations. Mum will stay here, though."

“Why?” she frowned, “I'm feeling better now, why must still stay in the hospital?”

“Because,” he sighed, “The doctor still has to observe your condition for the next few days, especially your head. No need to worry, your parents will come and keep you company.”

She bit her lip before nodding, then smiled softly as Harry kissed her hair. But, her smile faded when she saw her boyfriend looked gloomy and restless.

“Is something happen? You look.. off?” Y/N let her free hand rubbed his knuckle, “I'm sorry if I made you restless.”

“I was scared, Y/N. I thought I lost you. I was scared of losing you forever." he stammered, "I thought I would be alone.. again."

“Harry..” whispered her, “I'm fine. I'm here and fine. No need to worry, H.”

“Yeah, I know.” he chuckled, “And I'm grateful for that. You're safe and sound in here, with me.” “See?” she giggled, “Now, I'm hungry. Do you think I can eat anything but hospital catering?”

Harry could only laugh, ruffled her hair affectionately.

For now, he felt happy. But, tomorrow and beyond, he wasn't sure if they could get this close. He should make good use of this valuable time.

. . . .

Harry didn't know how to feel. Yet, he was fuming when Dale blatantly revealed his intention, coupled with Victoria's unbelievable confession. Good for him that Allen was there, he nearly punched Dale in the face if only his lawyer didn't hold him back. Elle with both her lawyer and manager were also there, witnessing the confession being unfolded before them. The model couldn't understand why her best friend did that. All she did was just scoffed whenever Victoria bawled her eyes out and asking for forgiveness, which that Elle and Harry couldn't give her.

Not only Dale and Victoria as the main perpetrator, but they also sued every single media Dale paid for bringing the scandal up. Many things had lost, not only money but also the dignity and reputation that have been tarnished in the public eye.

At least, Harry was a little relieved.

The only thing that still weighing in his heart and mind is, Y/N.

He didn't know when she would get her memory back, and how. But, if the day came, he didn't know what to do.

On the other hand, he was feeling empty after the incident. Marcel never came back since that night, even as if he didn't feel him anymore. Nothing was blocking his soul. It felt weird. There was no way that Marcel just disappeared.

Today, Y/N will be moved to London. Harry ensured that his girlfriend would get the best treatment by moving her to one of the best hospitals in the city. After meeting Dale and Victoria yesterday, he didn't have time to return to the hospital since it was late. He spent all day trying to force Dale to open his mouth and confess what he had done. And at the first in the morning, he rushed back to the hospital.

The hospital wing was so quiet, only a few nurses passed by. When he reached her room, he peeked through the window and didn't see his mother, only Y/N left alone was lying in her bed. Slowly, he opened the door and walked in. After making sure the door closed well, he stepped in and took a vacant chair next to her bed. He drew a small smile looking at his sleeping girlfriend. His hand carefully raised to stroke her hair, yet a little surprised when Y/N immediately opened her eyes.

“Hi,” Harry grinned, hands still stroking her hair, “How are you?” But, Y/N didn't answer him right away. She sighed, blinked her eyes then tilted her head to him. “Fine, I guess.”

“Does your head still hurt? We're going back to London today.” he hummed, “Well, but you still need to be hospitalised.” “No.”

Well, that was short.

Y/N pulled up her head again, her view now was the television in front of her. Her face still pale just like yesterday, but somehow looked different. Harry didn't get it but he felt something different.

“Where's mum? I didn't see her outside either.”

“Out.”

Harry frowned.

“You bored, didn't you? Well, I promise you'll be discharged soon but your head still needs observation for a few more days. I–”

“Harry..”

Now, Y/N tilted her head again to him. Her dull eyes gave him a sharp look with hundreds of emotion that she couldn't show. She didn't smile, her mouth was flat without any kind of pleasantly. Harry's smile faded as if he understood the gaze he was receiving. His hand that had been on her head gradually pulled back and returned to his lap.

“Why did you do that?”

Her voice barely just as a whisper yet it jolted him so much. The way she stared at him was only giving him confirmation that she got her memory back. Harry didn't know how to answer, all he did was shut his mouth. He felt his palm became sweaty and the air getting tense.

“Yes I got my memory back,” she confirmed his thought, “I remember how I ended up here. And it's the worst memory in my life.”

“You haven't answered my question." she opened her mouth after her boyfriend left her unanswered for two minutes. Harry himself didn't know where to start, even his brain couldn't function properly now. Many thoughts were racing in his head when he tried to open his mouth.

Licked his lips, he opened his mouth briefly before closing them again. He was completely baffled.

“I apologise for the animalistic behaviour towards you. It was very wrong for me to harm you that night." he sighed, lowering his head. He couldn't bear to look at her eyes now. The immense guilt and shame-filled his heart and mind.

“My question is why. I didn't ask for an apology, did I?”

He felt like a coward now.

“I was hurt by what you said that night. I felt betrayed by everything. I saw everything was gone wrong." he spoke, "I was hurt about the fact that... the unexpected thing between you and Marcel. I couldn't... I couldn't think properly since everything was vague for me.”

Silent.

“Which is where I should be able to control it all." Harry looked nervous, he didn't dare to look at Y/N. Instead, his bare fingers seemed more interesting than looking at her beautiful eyes. "I couldn't take that you said I'm disorder, I couldn't take the fact that you went behind my back with Marcel. But, that's the truth. I'm a disorder. You didn't go behind my back since I and Marcel are the same person. No matter how much I hate him, I have to accept the fate that we can't be separated. He has been with me as long as I live.”

“First of all, Harry.” she sighed, “It was very wrong for me to called you disorder. That was.. rude, I know. Then about Marcel. I should know how you would feel, I should know you would know. That was a mistake. And I'm sorry for everything that hurt you. You were fragile, and I should aware.”

Harry murmured, "None of them was your fault, darling. They are all my consequences."

“But, Harry. I've been thinking since last night.” she averted her gaze to the television ceiling and closed her eyes for a moment, “I can't accept what you did to me. All the yelling and screaming, it was enough. But, the violence.. it's not.”

“I just realised that I can't take it any more. I'm hurt, I'm exhausted. I can't deal with someone who's..” she scrunched her face, “.. abusive.”

His heart sank when the sentence slipped out of her mouth. Abusive? Was he abusive? His mind wandered back to that night. The night where he pushed her, hitting her head with a sharp object, and slammed her head against the wall. He realised he was abusing someone he loved which he shouldn't. He seemed to have just realised that the hand that had just stroked her hair, almost killed the woman before him. Yet, that was the same hand that Marcel use to kill his victim.After all, it was the hand of a killer. What did he expect?

You weren't so different from me, Harry

"I thought I could handle it, I thought I was brave enough to fit with your world. I thought I could hold on and help you. But, I was wrong." she whispered, "I barely can handle it. I was too brave and confident. I couldn't help you at all."

“What do you mean?" he ventured to ask. He couldn't think since his mind was too foggy.

“When you told me about your secret, I promised myself that I will help you as much as I can. With your perfect and imperfection, I brace myself to help you. And after all of these, I feel like.. I was wrong. I failed you. And you need to find someone to help you more. Someone you can trust."

Now, Y/N had her eyes on him. Looking at her boyfriend with teary eyes. The look on her eyes softened now, she bit her lips from wavering too much.

“I'm sorry, but.. I don't understand?” he lied. He clearly understood what did she mean. He just needed one more clarification to confirm what he had in head. He didn't dare to say it since it was to bitter to spit it out. Harry believed that his face was pale, his heart was too jittery to hear what was next.

“A break up will do us a favour, H." she stammered, "You need to find someone better than me, because I'm nothing. You will find someone who loves you unconditionally and maybe.. someday will fix you."

Harry looked at her just like she had grown out a second head. Nothing he understood. A break-up?

Even he couldn't say anything, he was speechless, he didn't know how to react. But, it made him think. Everything they went through together, everything they had for a year relationship, was all ruined by him. If he were a normal person, it would have all been different.

She wasn't wrong. It was him.

“I'm sorry, H. I–”

“It's okay, I understand." he chuckled, "I should have understood from the beginning. Why would someone be with me?"

“Harry, I don't mean– ”

“I respect your decision. It's your right, I cannot forbid you.” he gave her a modest smile, then getting up from his chair. He slowly took off his cross necklace and putting it around Y/N neck. After the necklace was perfectly clasped, he carefully lowered her head only to kiss her head for the last time. He took a moment to let his feelings poured out. Little did Y/N know, Harry was holding back from letting his tears falling down.

“It's funny to think that we break up exactly on our a year anniversary.” he chuckled, sniffled a bit before wiping away the tears at the corner of his eyes.

A year?

Y/N frowned a bit, how came it had been a year?

“Yes, today it's our a year anniversary if you don't remember. But, this is the most unexpected gift to celebrate.”

She didn't how to say.

“Seems you lost that memory, eh?" he joked before shaking his head. Once again, he smiled. Bringing his face closer to kiss her cheek before disappearing behind the door. But, the last sentence that came out from his mouth caught her off guard.

“One thing that you should know. No matter what happens, I'll always love you. Even someday your heart isn't mine any more."

. . . .

Harry never came back after the last word he left for Y/N. Anne returned to her room not long after her son left Y/N. Her ex-boyfriend mother didn't say anything about Harry which she assumed his arrival was unknown to his mother.

Even when she was transferred to London, Harry didn't show up. It was just her and Anne in her room, waiting for her parent's arrival. To be honest, Y/N was already bored in the hospital, but she couldn't deny the headache which still hammering her head several times. Sometimes she could endure it, but there were times she had to grimace because it was hurt so much.

“Brenda text me she'd be here in ten minutes.” Anne spoke, “They had to wait for your brother to go together.”

Y/N frowned, “Connor will come?”

“She said he has time off so he'll definitely pay you a visit.”

“Okay.”

Then, her mind wandered to this morning when she decided to let Harry go. It was a lie if she said it didn't hurt her. Her heart was aching when she said those words. A year with him was the most beautiful thing she had felt during all her relationship. All the sweet and bitterness were beyond her expectation. She didn't want their relationship to sink but what Harry did to her was the last strike she would get. She could no longer hold back what was on her heart. She felt she couldn't help with his behaviour any more. She fully understood it was all not what he wanted. But after all, she was just a selfish ordinary human.

Who could stand someone behaves abusively?

She could just hold on and think all was well. Yet, he didn't want to stress herself out when she forced herself to.

Their relationship was only a year. And she ended them exactly a year after they were being official. How unfortunate.

Was it cruel to broke him up on their anniversary?

She didn't even remember today was their anniversary! Call her evil but it was the truth.

If only Harry could hold back his anger and kept his hands away, maybe things would have been different. They might be somewhere in the world to celebrate their relationship and would end in a romantic way. The world wasn't always on our side, however.

And the last sentence he uttered to her, it was like a hard slap on her face. How could he say that he loved her in that kind situation? How could he admitted what was he felt in the bottom of his heart when their relationship was already crumbled?

Harry loved her.

That was the first time he said he loved her, and being the last time.

If he truly loved her, why he let his anger clouded his feelings and cause them to be like this?

If only he told her at the first..

“Y/N.”

She snapped her head when Anne called her name. She was zoned out too long so she didn't realise Anne had been watching her earlier with a concerned look.

“Yeah?”

Anne didn't immediately speak, she exhaled and took Y/N's hands for her to hold.

“I'm sorry for all that my son did to you. I've never.. never expected that he would do that to his own girlfriend.” she paused, “He shouldn't hurt you despite his anger problem.”

“No one would expect that, Anne.” she timidly said, “I just.. it shocked me.”

“I feel guilty for you, for your parents. I didn't know my son very well, even he has an anger disorder I just didn't know.”

Y/N frowned, how did Anne know her son had a disorder. Not an anger disorder to be precise, but one that was far more serious than that. Was it Niall? Or Harry himself?

“However, I also want to thank you for making Harry more cheerful and happier than before. I've never seen him that happy. I just hope he won't change since both of you aren't together anymore.”

How did Anne know that they broke up?

As if answering her question, Anne smiled sadly and nodded, “Harry called after visiting you. He told me everything, even asking me to not bring up that question. He just wants you to recover and not to stress out. He also told me that he won't bother you by coming to the hospital.”

“I'm sorry for bringing that up. I can't help myself." she added, "He also told me that he was sorry and nothing can fix what he did."

“Anne," Y/N whispered, her heart sank to see Anne smiled sadly as the old lady rubbed her teary eyes, "I'm sorry if I made a bad decision, I–"

“I understand, darling. No need to worry. I am just sad that my son sounded sad and helpless.   I've never heard him like that." she shook her head, "But, no matter what, you're still part of our family. I'm always here if you want to talk."

Giving Anne a tight smile, Y/N just nodded slowly. They both talked until Brenda and Calvin showed up at her room. Being the polite lady he was, Anne excuse herself to leave the family alone.

. . . .

Harry never felt more relieved in his entire life. Fucking finally, his mortal enemy, the one who made him suffer and down for the last few months – would immediately face his sentence for his action. Upon his arrival at a certain location, without any further do he met Allen to accompany him to meet Dale and Victoria. There was a sense of satisfaction burning him as he walked so confidently to where they were isolated.

There they were.

Sitting in the iron chair, looking all shabby and helpless in their grey uniform. If Victoria's face wasn't visible since she was looking down and letting her hair loose, in contrast to the arrogant Dale who raised his chin highly as if challenging anyone he would face.

“Well, hello there.”

Harry bit his lip, both his hands were tucked in his pocket. He was quite impressed with Dale. Even though there were two guards behind him, Dale was still as arrogant as usual.

“I don't want to mince words. Why are you doing all this?”

Silence.

He exhaled, averted her gaze to his ex-girlfriend who still had her face down. Albeit he was standing feet away from her, he could tell that Victoria was scared. The woman hadn't made the slightest move.

“Why are you helping him, Victoria?”

He pinched his forehead when she didn't answer him. He couldn't understand that the two of them keep their mouth closed. What was that hard to speak or even opening their mouth?

“Don't make this hard. Just answer the damn question!" Harry gritted his teeth. But, seeing these two were still silent, his hands angrily met the table – shocking them both.

“You know what, Harry? You don't deserve all this success and beyond considering who you are. You're still a loser like you were a dozen years ago. Who are you if you're not a Styles?” Dale snickered, “ Who are you behind this luxury and wealth?”

“You would always envy me no matter what. Me being a Styles or not, you will always be.” scoffed Harry, “You should realise, hatred is what makes you fall like this.”

“Fine then,” Harry murmured, “Victoria? Is there anything you would like to say?”

“This stupid girl agreed to help me because she wanted revenge on you. She didn't like the lady of yours and thought she could ruin you both." Dale chuckled, "How romantic. Who would have thought love could blind someone."

“Just if you're jealous of me or something that I have, doesn't mean that's okay to do.” Harry shook his head, “See you in the court.”

Harry didn't need to Dale and Victoria elaborate why they did this. He could draw conclusions, and based on the evidence he received, Dale played pretty well enough to make up everything. Being the mastermind, Dale managed to find someone who knew Harry's past enough to make his plans even smoother. He tricked Victoria into obeying his commands.

Using an alias, he received the weapon, something greater than he thought, and sold them to blow up the scandal. Not only Harry's downfall he was laughing at, but also the amount of money from the tape. The downfall was bigger than he had imagined, and he was very satisfied with it.

And then, there was Victoria.

She paid what she did before. She was awful, yet Harry didn't understand why he could date her at first.

Karma did exist, did it?

But, Harry hadn't got into his car yet when his lawyer rang him again, saying that Dale and Victoria were willing to testify for their guilt.

It seemed he might have a full day to interrogate them. . . . .

It was strange.

Harry felt strange.

Marcel hadn't been back since that night. Even when he was threatening Dale and Victoria, the anger he felt was pure himself. Marcel didn't change their positions, and it astonished him. He felt he was there, but did nothing. He just stood there, hiding but stay alert.

It had been a couple of days, Marcel still didn't want to appear even Harry had tried to persuade by asking him to meet. But still, nothing.

Y/N had also come home and was recovering. He kept his distance, still didn't want to meet her – worried that his presence would disturb her. Harry was a hypocrite if he said he didn't miss her. He truly missed her, so bad. But he knew his positions. They weren't something anymore, and he should leave her a space.

When he was home alone, he sometimes remembered his former lover. So many memories left to unfold in here. His memory forced him to reminisce about their past together.

The first time he saw her when Rita Davies introduce them, Harry didn't have any feeling, just like a boss to his assistant. Then, in the first few weeks they had been working together, Harry acknowledged Y/N's incredible work skill. And gradually, that feeling of amaze blossomed into something different. Something that broke his own promise to not have any romantic ties with someone in the same company. Until finally they were at this point, all of them was leaving deep meaning at the bottom of his heart.

He had never felt so empty, so lost. Only Y/N could make him felt like this, she was the only woman who won his heart and successfully made him fall in love.

He was relieved to let out his guts, the burden on his shoulder had disappeared since he was being honest with Y/N, that he loved her. Of course, he still had this regretful annoying his heart for expressed his feelings at the wrong time.

And now, he was trying to get over his sadness by getting back to work. No, he wasn't simply returning to his company, he had been calling Lucas to monitor all the work. They still had his cousin for being the leader of the company for a while until at least the client regained their trust back for the sake of his company.

Meanwhile, the arrest of Dale and Victoria also helped clear Harry and Elle's good name and reputation. His team made Dale admitted that all of this was his ruse, yet Harry was a kind person and he did this out of hatred. Slowly, everyone understood that in the end, Harry was just a victim.

In time, Erskine got their clients again. What made Harry felt confident again, they started asking about his presence in the company. But still, he needed some time before returning to work as before. Besides, he didn't know if he could work as usual if his assistant wasn't Y/N. Harry wasn't being unprofessional, it was just that he felt like he was compatible with her and they were a solid team. And only her who understood what he wanted in their work. Oh, sweet Y/N. Of course, she wouldn't return to work until her condition got better. However, there was one thing that bothered him. If he had returned to work, as well as with Y/N, could they still work as a team?

Later that night, when Harry was in an online meeting with Lucas and some of their director, someone knocked his office. His eyes found Suzanne was smiling softly at him, “I'm sorry, did I bother you?”

“Uhm, no.” Harry scratched his neck, “What's wrong, Suzanne?”

“Your friend is here." she shrugged, "I've told him that you're on a meeting. But he said it's okay and he wants to wait."

“Who?” Harry squinted, “I don't have any appointment with anyone.”

“It's Niall.”

He stiffened. He didn't know what made Niall come here, and it been a few weeks since the last time he saw him – at the cottage that time. The last thing he remembered from his best friend was a disappointed look. Then, he just nodded as Suzanne excused her self. He ended the meeting immediately and wished them good night since nothing to be discussed anymore. Folding his MacBook, Harry exhaled and rubbed his face before getting up from his leather chair. His steps grew heavier the closer he got to the living room. From a few feet away, he could see Niall was standing facing his big window while enjoying the beautiful view of London. As if Niall could Harry's presence, he turned around and gave a modest smile, "How are you, H?"

His question was simple, but why Harry felt intimidated?

“Honest answer or lies?”

With that, Niall arched his eyebrow. Shaking his head, he took a vacant seat near the window. “I'm not here to judge you. I'm here because you need to talk.”

“I'm between torn and fine.”

“I guess.” he murmured, “Now, I don't want mince words but what's wrong with you? What was in your head to let your hand to did that?”

“Just tell me and I won't interrupt you. I'm all ears.” he added before Harry got the chance to answer him.

“I don't know, Niall.” he sighed, dropping his body onto the couch across Niall. His both hands grasped his head which bent down. “I was very aware when I did that. Marcel wasn't shadowing me. The anger I felt was somewhat different from him. I don't know why I could do that.”

“What kind of anger, Harry?”

"I felt.. betrayed. With everything happened at the same time. I was.. tired, saturated. I felt that.. whatever has been done, it's all useless."

Niall exhaled, leaning to chair with folding his arms. His blue eyes stared intently at his friend. Then, he shook his head gently, “There must be something big. You wouldn't hit your girlfriend if that was all you felt.”

Well, Harry couldn't lie one of the triggers was.. her and Marcel. But, he couldn't be honest about that thing which was so personal, even it was for his own friend. It was better if he changed the topic, no?

“But, Niall. After that accident, Marcel hasn't shown himself yet. I can feel him, I've tried to talk to him. He doesn't even want to show up. That's weird.” Harry stared at Niall anxiously, “What happen?” Now, Niall squinted his eyes. He bit his lip while straightening his posture, “Then, you have to be on alert. We don't know what will he do. But still, control your anger. I'm afraid he will be more dangerous since he doesn't want to talk to you.”

"Something that still bothers me. Why me? Why I was the one who did that? Every time I was angry, it always been Marcel."

"Because your anger wasn't based on your grudge. You were angry because you were afraid to lose everything. Meanwhile Marcel, his anger was to get rid of everything."

“Tell me, H. Have you lost something, already?” . . . .

Harry couldn't count how many weeks it had been. He was back in the office, started working as usual despite Y/N was still absent. Meanwhile, Lucas took over her job until she came back and he would return to the Manchester office. Erskine had started to stabilize and getting clients back.

Harry was also grateful that he still had one meeting scheduled in a day, although previously he could have almost four meetings a day. Thanks to everyone who helped him to get through all of this.

As for now, he just finished a meeting with all of the directors to discuss client progress. When he was about to return to his office, at the same time one of the HR staff was talking to Madeleine – asking his presence.

"Mr Styles? Mrs Martinez wants to see you." Madeleine smiled, glancing at the woman beside her.

Harry nodded at both woman, "Please, come in Sanaa." and invited Mrs Martinez, or he called her Sanaa, to come into his office.

“What's wrong, Sanaa?” asked him after he sat on his chair, giving the woman some time to put a folder on his desk. His attention wasn't on Sanaa since he was looking for his tie bar. But, what Sanaa just said made him froze for a moment.

“Y/N came to meet me this morning and gave her resignation letter.” “Pardon?”

Y/N came here, straight to the HR office to submitted her resignation but she didn't tell him first? Did her hate him too much so she didn't want to meet him?

She should have informed him first, and not immediately submitted her letter. He was still her boss after all.

Straightened his body, Harry gave Sanaa a look for her to elaborate what she just said.

“She said she wants to quit the job and wants to take a break. But, I didn't say anything since I have to give her resignation letter to you first.” Sanaa answered, “She also said, something happened with her head cause her to took extra leave and she's afraid she can't work normally due to her head injury.”

Harry still stared at her like he was seeing a ghost. His brain couldn't proceed what she said, yet slowly his hand took the folder that was lying on his desk. His feelings were messed up when his eyes saw the letter signed by his former girlfriend, stating she was resigning from a company that had given her a lot of experience over the past year.

“Did she say anything else?” he gulped, eyes scanning every single word she wrote.

"No, Mr Styles."

Harry sighed, pinching his nose bridge in frustration, “I'll talk to her first, and let you know after that.”

"Sure. Thank you, Mr Styles."

There was nothing more he could do than a nod. After Sanaa closed his door, he slammed the folder down and let out a huff. He never thought Y/N would make such a decision. Now, what he was afraid of started to eat him alive. She began to pull away from his life. Harry very well understood, but on the other hand, his selfish side didn't want to let it happen.

Taking his mobile phone from his desk, his finger quickly tapped Y/N contact. He took a moment staring at his ex-girlfriend's name whom he had not contacted for a long time. The last time he texted her was when Y/N had returned home, wishing her speedy recovery. He respected her decision by not bothering her with unimportant messages or phone calls. Harry tried to fix his heart by trying not to think about her. Yet, he still watched her from afar without being noticed.

Slowly, he sent her text to meet him in the office – wanting to talk about her resignation. Fortunately, she replied right away. Well, of course, still in a friendly way.

Messages – Now ; amore I'm fine, H.

Oh well, that was short. She couldn't possibly reply to his messages like when they were still together. No pet names, no smiley face, or even kisses. It bothered him a little, accepting the bittersweet reality.

To ; amore I've got your resignation letter earlier. Do you think you can come and discuss this with me first? I'm always available in the office

From ; amore Oh, you're back already?

To ; amore Been a few weeks. Erskine is getting better, soo... From ; amore Oh, wow. Glad to hear that. How about tomorrow?

To ; amore That would be great. You're welcome to come anytime.

From ; amore Thanks, see ya tomorrow.

To ; amore See ya, darling Sorry... I mean Y/N

Harry smacked his head after realising his stupid mistake by calling her with their usual pet names. Y/N was no longer his lover, how could he slip like that?

But, he couldn't lie that was the shortest text he had together with her. Usually, they would throw pet names at each other, send flirting messages, yet that was all gone. He felt a little better because Y/N still wanted to contacted by him.

He hoped that after they talk, she would cancel her decision. Not because Harry wanted to be still in touch with her, but her career was already good here and he didn't want her to give up her career just because of what happened between them. If Y/N wanted, Harry could give her a promotion or move her to another department as long as she still worked with Erskine.

. . . .

It was past lunchtime, but Y/N hadn't shown herself yet. Harry started to feel antsy, worried that she didn't want to see him. His anxiety vanished when Madeleine called him, said Y/N was already in the lounge. Of course he immediately told her to let his former lover come to his office. Nervousness began to eat him away, his hands were sweating and his heart was pounding. The feeling became even more so when he heard the sound of his door being opened. He sighed slowly, and getting up from his leather chair – standing to welcome the person he had missed so much.

There she was.

Looking as beautiful as usual.

She threw a small smile, walked to his desk. Harry was a little stunned, making Y/N waved her palm in front of him. He smiled awkwardly then offering her to sit. For a moment, Harry studied the girl in front of him. She looked like his Y/N, his sweet sweet Y/N. Nothing had changed. Yet, something looked a little different.

“How are you?” Harry looked at her straight in her eyes, his voice was firm but actually he was hiding his nervousness.

Y/N nodded, “I'm fine. Are you?”

He shrugged, “Never been better.”

Silence.

Both of them did say nothing. If Harry was busy watching her, Y/N preferred to avert her gaze. Honestly, she didn't dare to be stared at Harry for so long. She couldn't lie if she said she missed the man in front of her. She was afraid her heart would collapse if she kept staring at him. Harry hadn't changed, he was still the old Harry. However, he looked a little better – almost like his usual state. Erskine was getting better and better, and it made his psychological condition better.

“What do you want to talk about, Harry?”

Harry. Harry.

Sounded sweet but so sour.

Heard Y/N calling him by his real name, it felt surreal. He used to be called by nickname or pet names, Harry sounded so strange and unfamiliar in his ears.

This time, was Y/N who dared to look at him while he tried to suppress his feelings by lowering his head with hands toying the pen. He was confused about what to say.

“About your resignation,” he lifted his head, staring deadly at her, “Why?”

“I can no longer work here.”

“Why?” Harry asked the second time since he didn't satisfied with her answer. He wanted to know the main reason that made her decide to quit her job. He knew she had another reason that she couldn't work here anymore.

“Harry,” she sighed, joining her hands together in her lap, “With everything that happened between us, I'm trying to fix things. I– ”

“If the reason is that you can't get too close to me, I can promote you or.. or even move you to another department. Just.. just don't quit. You have good achievements here, don't give up your career. Erskine still needs you, I still need you for this company's future." Harry stammered, "I know everything will not be the same after that, I know you can't forgive me. But, please. Don't bring our personal problems to work."

“If I mix personal matters with work, I wouldn't meet you now professionally.” Y/N bit her lip, “Don't judge me that low.”

“I don't?” Harry confused, “I know you're hiding something from me, Y/N. That's why–”

“It's more than fixing things. I can't work here anymore because I have to rest for who knows long. I can't function properly since my brain can't work normally.”

What did she mean?

“Pardon?”

“I have post-concussion syndrome after what happened. Getting headaches easily, lose concentration, get anxious and worried easily, even I would lose the ability to move my body suddenly. Of course, it will slow down my performance.” she exhaled, “I need time to get normal. And I can't possibly abandon my job that long.”

“I need you to understand my condition, Harry. I'm not the same like before.”

Harry was.. speechless. He wouldn't have thought his behaviour had an impact this far. He didn't expect to make Y/N suffer like this. She almost died because of him, she was forced to leave her job because of him. She did suffer because of him.

All because of you, Harry.

You were the one who made her suffer.

"And it will be better for us, to help us to move on with each other's lives."

Move on with each other's lives.

Move on.

Was that what she wanted?

No matter how hard Harry persuaded her, Y/N would stick with her decision. It was very difficult to change her mind she had made. Harry knew that very well.

However, what was Harry for Y/N right now? He was nothing for her. She wouldn't listen to him, she wouldn't care anymore to him.

If that was what Y/N wanted, Harry couldn't stop her. Just like what he said, he would respect every decision she made.

And, Harry realised, this moment was the last time he saw her. She would leave him.

This was their goodbye. . . Please excuse some errors Talk to me :)

[storytellerssanctum]

Petals & Thorns - chapter 7/?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x oc

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.6k

SONG OF THE CHAPTER - what keeps you up at night • dan + shay

When the students gathered back into the hall the next day, everyone was buzzing with excitement. The headmasters of the three schools took post in front of every pupil, but still behind the Goblet of Fire. Adalinda felt a cold hand on her leg once more, reminding her of the first night back at the school. Her eyes held Igor Karkaroff and his sickening stance. She hated him, this was bred into her mind from when she was a young girl. Her father gave names around their home of who not to hold respect for. His? It was at the very top. It was Halloween night, and the jack-o-lanterns floating by the ceiling gave them all a calming tone. Everyone at Hogwarts loved Halloween. It was one of the few holidays every student spent in the castle. Pranks ensued heavily, keeping everyone on their toes. Peeves wreaked havoc on this day. More so than he usually did.

Addy was not unlike the rest. She held a love for the day as well. The feast, the laughs, the mischief. It was something she enjoyed heavily. She didn't usually participate in the pranks themselves, but she enjoyed watching them play out. So they sat, after their dinner, waiting for the ceremony to ensue. There was an uproar of chatter as the golden plates cleared themselves. Dumbledore stood to announce the first name. He told the students that the goblet may take a few minutes to choose the name, and that when the first one was called, they were to go to the top of the hall and into the next chamber.

With a wave of his wand, all the lights in the hall went out excluding the ones in the pumpkins. The goblet illuminated the entire room. Each face was lit up by its powerful flames. Almost immediately after, the fire inside turned an angry red, unusual to its blue hue. A piece of charred parchment shot out along with a bolus of sparks. Dumbledore reached out and grasped it in his hand. His eyes read over the words before he spoke. "The champion for Durmstrang," he looked out at all of the children. "Will be Viktor Krum!" The hall erupted into cheers and clapping. Everyone made some noise, including Adalinda.

"Bravo, Viktor! I knew you had it in you!" Karkaroffs booming voice yelled. At that, the kids settled once more. The blue flames endured another change back to red, as it repeated its previous actions. Another piece of paper was spat out.

"And the champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!" Once again, booming cheers captured the filled room. This time, Addy did not clap. She followed Krums lead into the room off the side of the hall. Fleur Delacour was the girl who held Fred Weasley's attention the precious evening. Silence fell once more as the moment all the Hogwarts students were waiting for was about to ensue. As the flames turned auburn one final turn, what they thought was the last name flew out. As Dumbledore reached for it, everyone's heart was sporadic. Their breathing was silent, as everyone was scared to move. "The Hogwarts champion," everyone inched closer to the speaker. "Is Cedric Diggory!" He boomed. The Hufflepuff table was uncontainable. They were up out of their seats, screaming and crying in excitement. Even the proud Slytherin found herself clapping. Cedric was one of the more bearable Hufflepuffs. The whole hall was booming with proudness as the boy made his way into the second chamber.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore began once again. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-" he was stopped short. A collective gasp sounded as the flames changed their colour one final time. Adalinda leaned forward in her seat, interested in what was happening. Everyone's eyes held the goblet in an even more intense way than before. This was something nobody expected. She watched Dumbledore's hand reach out and seized the charred paper. He opened it carefully, and looked down. He was silent for a very long time. When he finally found his words, they echoed through the room. "Harry Potter!"

This time, there was no cheers. An angry buzz filled the silence as everybody watched him. Dumbledore called his name again, ushering him to the front. "I've got to excuse myself." Addy whispered quietly. Adrian removed his hand from her leg with a nod, and she let herself out. Her chest was heavy at the information as she walked calmly from the hall. When she was clear of the room, she turned and found herself on her way to a back hallway. Noticing her sudden movement from across the way, Fred stood too. He thought it was time to make his move. Luckily, none of her friends noticed his departure. George did. He let his eyes follow his brother as he ran after the girl in green. As Fred exited, he saw the back of her skirt disappear behind the corner of a conjoined hallway. He let himself follow.

She was walking quickly with her head down. She knew of the Dark Lords plans to return, but she didn't know Harry Potter would be a part of it this time. What if he died before he made it to the final task? Clearly, the Dark Lord needed him there for a reason. She wondered, if Harry died, maybe he wouldn't be resurrected. A warmth spread at the thought. If that happened, maybe she would never have to endure the mark, that well known symbol, being burned into her skin forever. She was so caught up in her head she didn't hear the footsteps behind her. She jumped in shock at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. She went rigid at the thought of it being her boyfriend. It couldn't be, though. This hand was too gentle.

She turned and caught those dirt coloured eyes. The ones that she couldn't shake from her thoughts. What was wrong with her? She found herself speechless as his face. The encounter reminded her of the first night they truly spoke. "What are you doing?" She asked. There was no harshness in her tone, though deep down she wished there was. She didn't want to be kind to a boy she had to hate. Trouble would be certain if she couldn't pull herself together.

"You looked a bit flustered." He admitted, letting his hand drop from her shoulder. He took in her eyes, the deep sea of blue. The pink lips that were parted in shock. He let her blonde hair fill his chest with emotion.

"I'm fine, Weasley." She tried to muster some anger, or anything that would make him back off. As hard as she tried, she couldn't.

"You don't seem fine." He narrowed his eyebrows at her response. He noticed her looking over his shoulder every now and again. She was checking to see if anyone had followed him. "Nobody saw me leave, you don't have to to worry."

"I do have to worry. If I get caught talking to you my father will have my head on a stake." She explained. Her words were rushed as she looked around his body once again.

"Let's go somewhere more private, then." She debated, wanting so badly to yell at him to leave, to get away from her. Instead, she gave a nod. He grabbed her hand and led her down the hallways. She noticed that his hand wasn't hard in hers. It was loose, so if she wanted to let go she had a choice. She wasn't used to it. They walked through the twists of the castle as she wondered where he was taking her. He brought her to an old stairwell, one that she didn't even know existed. It was far from any main hallways, and nobody would be able to seek them even if they wanted to. He dropped her hand and took a seat on one of the steps. He nodded as if for her to do the same.

She wearily took the stair next to him, turning her body to face the boy. As he watched her, he had millions of things running through his head. She wasn't disgusted by him, she was letting him touch her and speak to her. Despite every lesson she was taught as a child, she was still sitting before him with no hatred in her face. "I saw what happened between you and Pucey yesterday." He stated, reaching back for her hand. Her initial reaction was to recoil, to push him away. She couldn't, because she liked the way it felt. He held consideration in the action, not like he was forcing her to do it. She took her hand in his. It was cold against her skin. She grabbed it between both of hers, trying to warm it. He gave a smile.

"You're freezing." She stated.

"You're avoiding the topic." He said, catching her eyes.

"What do you care?" She said, harsher than intended. Adrian was a touchy subject. "It has nothing to do with you." He looked at her dainty hands encased around his.

"It must have something to do with me." He raised an eyebrow. "He only seemed to get angry when you laughed at us."

"He's just jealous is all." She casted her eyes to the ground, but kept a hold on his hands. Her stomach was bubbling with fear. If anyone saw the two her reputation would be ruined. Her father would kill her, and her mother would disown her. "He's not that bad." She lied through her teeth.

"You're lying." He reached up and caught her chin with his fingers. Her jaw hardened. "You're terrified of him." He brought her face to be level with his own. They watched each other.  "That's why you were so scared of him seeing us back there."

"Terrified isn't the word," she whispered. "I shouldn't be talking to you." She didn't move, though. She made no attempt at getting away or out of his hold. He let his thumb drift over her cheek as he withdrew it.

"As long as nobody finds out, you'll be fine." His voice was soft. Watching him made her feel wine drunk. Dizzy, but blissful. After almost two months of secret glances and laughs, she was finally face to face with him again. He felt the same. He wanted to feel what it was like to kiss her, to have her in his arms. He gave her shivers by the way he was staring. "I won't tell anybody." He promised. Her eyes fell back to their hands.

"What do you want from me?" His palms were much larger than hers. She barely fit one of his hands into both of hers. She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"I don't want anything," he said, his eyes falling on her mouth. "I just want you to know you deserve better than the prat you're with." She gave a small smile at his sentence.

"I don't, really. I haven't been kind in my years here. I used my name to my advantage. Besides, I have to marry him. That's what my parents want." She confessed. His heart fell into his stomach. She didn't know why she was being so honest with him, but he gave her a comfort beyond her understanding.

"You don't have to do anything, Addy." Him speaking her name sent butterflies to her stomach. "You don't have to do anything. You're your own person." He reminded. "And I don't think you're that bad. You're not even half as mean as your brother. You know you have power but you don't take advantage of it. You're quiet and let everyone else do the talking. You had a reputation since you got here, it's not entirely your fault."

"I'm supposed to hate you."

"Do you?"

"Not particularly," she let her fingertips dance with his. He made her feel better in the few moments they shared than her boyfriend ever had. "I'm actually quite fond of you and your brother." She swallowed hard, biting down on her bottom lip. "I thought I agreed with my parents morals." She could feel him getting closer. "Now I'm not sure."

"You're not born ignorant, you're taught it. You weren't raised to know better. That's not your fault." He wasn't far away from her face.

"I never tried to learn."

"They wouldn't let you." Their noses were almost touching. Her body was screaming at her to run away. Dread filled her. She was frozen in the moment.

"I didn't dream that this would be the way I'd disappoint my parents." She let a small laugh out.

"Maybe now, I'll be what keeps you awake at night. No bloody dreams about your parents anymore. Maybe you can have some joy in your life." She closed her eyes at his words. This was a dream. It had to be. No man had ever been this gentle with her before. Nobody had ever been so intoxicating. He was taking over her brain. The strong, powerful Slytherin was gone. He wasn't a Gryffindor or a blood traitor. He was just a teenage boy, and she was just a girl. They had no labels or blood status. His cool hands took to her face once again, resting close to her ear. His fingers laced with the hair that flowed off her shoulder. She, too, reached out for him. Her hand fell to the back of his neck, pulling him in and closing the gap between their faces.

In the moment, she was at peace. She never felt anything like it before. As his lips toyed on her own, she understood what it was like to have feelings for someone. She had never experienced someone be so delicate with her, or so calming to be around. As they parted, they held smiles of satisfaction. He let his forehead rest on hers. The moment did not last long, though. Soon the impending thought of what she had done fell on her. Panic struck her features. Even so, she didn't move.

"What is it?" Fred asked.

"I just cheated on my boyfriend."

"Not much of a boyfriend, he is." He placed his lips on hers again. "He won't find out." He said as he pulled away.

"I'm not worried about him finding out," she admitted. "I'm worried because I don't want this to be the last time." She was more honest with him than she'd ever been.

"It doesn't have to be." He assured her. It sounded nice in theory, but the risk was almost too high.

"I can't break up with him, he'll know somethings wrong. And if he says anything, or Draco finds out, you'll be a dead man and I'll have nowhere to live. If I survive, that is." She explained.

"Then don't." He said, simply. They had moved back to their original position.

"Don't what?"

"Don't break up with him, and we don't tell anyone." She almost laughed at his words.

"And when word gets out I cheated on a pure-blood with a Weasley?" He wasn't hurt at her words. He understood.

"Addy, I am a mischief master. I will make sure nobody finds out."

Tags: @play-morezeppelin

[dothwrites]

to the future, and then the future

Theoretically, Castiel should be happier. He and Sam saved that mother and child, and the spell was enacted to trap the ghosts. They saved a town. Castiel should be happy. 

The chatter of the townspeople fills his head until it’s all that he can hear. Even though the cacophony is almost deafening, Castiel appreciates it. Normally he has the steady hum and static of angel radio in the back of his head but for the past day it’s been silent. Not a blip, not anything. 

Castiel wonders if Heaven is even there anymore, or if Chuck took that with him when he went, too. 

He can’t stop moving. He brushes by a young mother, offers a wan smile as she starts to ask him a question, and steps outside. The sun is just setting, throwing off spears of pink and orange into the horizon. A soft breeze rustles the trees and tugs playfully at the hem of his coat. The place they’re at now, the high school, is idyllic. The grass is green and almost gleaming, the trees are neat, and even the trash cans look like they’re minding their p’s and q’s. 

It’s beautiful. The world is spinning, the breeze is flowing, the grass is growing, and it’s all so beautiful that Castiel can feel each and every molecule pressing against him. 

It’s obscene. 

Every molecule presses against him. When it’s just the simple, loose compounds of the air, it’s one thing, but when it’s the air, the worry of a town, the lingering knowledge of the festering wound on Sam’s chest, the stretching black lines creeping out from under the edge of garish white glasses, the itching, revolting presence of the demon in Jack’s, in his boy’s body, the constant weight and pressure of Dean’s continuing anger and disdain...

Angel’s don’t breathe, but even if he wanted to, Castiel doesn’t think that he’d be able. The events of the past 24 hours are an iron vise around his chest, squeezing so tight that it hurts. It hurts, and Castiel is tired of things hurting. 

The loss of Jack is a constant, empty ache in his chest. The agony ebbs and flows, and just when Castiel thinks that he’s over the worst of it, something will happen. He’ll catch sight of the abomination wearing his boy, or he’ll remember how it sounded when Jack was being burned out of his body and...A fingernail catches on the edge of the ragged wound, pulling it open, and it bleeds fresh. Castiel’s left gasping, reeling, and he realizes then that he’s never going to be all right. He’s never going to move past this. 

And Dean. And Dean. 

That Good, tossed out so carelessly, so spitefully. It was meant to hurt, which, well done for him. It did. The good lingers in his chest, right against the hurt from Jack. Sometimes they brush together, in an exquisite conflagration of failure and loss. 

Anger features in there somewhere, the anger at Jack for fleeing without letting them help, anger at Sam for not being able to restrain Dean, anger at Mary for allowing herself to be caught in such a situation. Anger at Dean for taking this, this shining, delicate thing and shattering it so thoughtlessly. Anger at himself for ever thinking that he could have something pure, something good.

He hasn’t even allowed himself to process the suppurating wound of Chuck. He doesn’t think that he can. 

“Nice night, huh?”

At first Castiel thinks that he’s imagining the voice. He did that, sometimes. In the mental ward, in Purgatory, while he was human. He would create whole scenarios around the sound of Dean’s voice. But then he looks to his right and no, it’s not a hallucination. Dean is really there, standing beside him, close enough that their elbows brush with every expansion of his chest. 

“If you take away the zombies, ghosts, and absence of god, then yes,” Castiel answers. “It’s not raining at least.”

“All right Igor.” At Castiel’s pointed silence, Dean scoffs. “Come on. Young Frankenstein? I made you watch it.”  

“I remember,” Castiel says softly. Those were happier times--perched on a chair in Dean’s room, his fingers greasy with butter from the popcorn, his tie loosened around his neck. Jack’s laughter echoed around the room, while Sam smiled with all the indulgence of a senile uncle. And Dean, Dean had laughed with his mouth full, spraying little bits of popcorn as he nudged Castiel, pointing out his favorite parts and sometimes talking over them so that Sam had to roll his eyes and rewind the movie. 

“Yeah, well.” Dean doesn’t mention the memories of that night, not that Castiel was expecting him to. “We’ve got other problems right now.”

“Yes we do.” 

It’s always been like this between them. Why has it always been like this? For ten years, they’ve been so close that Castiel bleeds when the Winchesters are hurt, and yet...He and Dean stand on opposite sides of a canyon and neither one of them is willing to begin building the bridge to span the distance. 

Millions of years of existence and Castiel finds that he is tired. 

“Look, I’m still...” Dean waves his hand in a gesture that Castiel supposes is meant to encompass every pitfall and problem between the two of them. “And I’m gonna be that way for a while. But...” Dean sighs and the sound hits Castiel hard in the chest. It’s the sound of an ancient man, a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Atlas had a lighter burden to bear. 

“But I said once that I needed you and that ain’t changed. Not now, not ever.” Dean looks at him. The lines around his eyes are deeper than they used to be. Dean’s gotten older, Castiel realizes. He’d never noticed. “So don’t...You, me, and Sam. You know that there’s nothing we can’t do, if we’re together.” 

The words are rout and Dean doesn’t even bother trying to put conviction into them. They fall, empty and hollow, into the gaping spot in Castiel where he used to keep his hope. But still, there’s some kind of strength in Dean, one that drew him in years ago, one that keeps him here, despite everything. 

“So are you with us?” There’s something plaintive in Dean’s voice, moreso in his eyes. Stay, Dean’s eyes ask. Please. 

Some unfurls in Castiel’s chest, like the first touch of spring on barren ground. It’s not much, in fact it’s barely anything, but it feels warm. It feels like hope. 

“Of course,” Castiel answers. 

“Until the end.” 

[spacegirlapollo]

Stitches ( Eddie X Reader) imagine

You huffed out a breath and could see billows of cold from your mouth. San Francisco was usually warm, but tonight it was bone achingly cold.

“Stupid. So stupid.” You said out loud to yourself.  

You were cold, hungry and angry, and you were seeing that part of that was maybe your fault.

You’d stormed out of your apartment after your argument with Eddie. You just had to leave had to get some air. You couldn’t stand the smell of blood anymore. Eddie had come home from presumably more “night work”, bleeding all over your small apartment. Venom, the Symbiote living in his body, could do most of the healing but sometimes it wasn’t enough.

This time Eddie needed major stitches across his face and chest.

You were quiet as you stitched him up. You could feel his eyes on you, feeling out the tension radiating from your body. This was not the first time and it wasn’t going to be the last but you just wanted him to be more careful.

You wish you could tie him up sometimes and keep him in the house. But most nights you could feel the pressure leaving the bed when he thought you were asleep. And he would return hours later, you wouldn’t have been able to sleep so you hear when he comes in and find him almost passed out in the bathroom, or bleeding out over the sink.

And you just couldn’t take another moment of it. So after you stitched him up you went to the bathroom and cried. You didn’t want him to hear and your body was shaking so hard. Eddie pushed open the door and crouched down next to you.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. And every part of you ached to wrap him in your arms but you knew that wouldn’t make him stop.

You looked up at him tears still falling.

“Then please stop.” You said. “I’m tired of putting you back together every night.”

“ I cant. I have to –“

You couldn’t hear it anymore. You got up and moved past him to the door ignoring your keys, jacket wallet.

You could hear Eddie calling after you but you igored him to. And now here you were. Cold, Hungry, Angry and wearing a shirt stained with Eddie’s blood.

“Hey – Hey you.” You didn’t turn around to the sound of someone calling you. You were suddenly hit with exactly how stupid you were being by walking out in the streets at 4 in the morning. You wrapped your arms around you and began to speed up.

You could still hear the sounds of footsteps behind you and you begin to speed up more, the steps keeping in pace with you.

“shit” You whispered underneath your breath. “stupid.”

“Hey!” The rough voice said again. And this time your breath caught because the voice was much closer than it was before.

This time you dared to turn around and saw the tall drunken looking man. You gasped as you felt him grab you and yank you forward.

--

Eddie had been following you since you’d left the apartment. There was no way they were going to let you run around San Fran in the middle of the night.

‘We should just grab her and bring her back’

‘That’s not a good idea V. She’s already pissed at us.’ Eddie thought back.

‘pissed at you.’

Eddie sighed. Venom was right. Eddie was walking far enough behind you that you wouldn’t notice but it didn’t seem like you were notice anything around you. He could tell that you were cold and he wanted to just wrap his arms around you.

Then he thought about how long it had been since he’d done that and it all came crashing down on him. It had been months of him sneaking out in the middle of the night, being a wall climbing vigilante. He hadn’t considered the affect it would have on you to stitch him up every night.

There was nothing he wanted more than to go to you but he knew you were angry.

That’s when he saw it. Some random drunk man yanking on your arm. You screamed out trying to pull yourself free.

No one knew where you were, no one would care if something happened to you and the panic in your throat felt you were going to throw up.

“Eddie!” You screamed out even though you knew he wasn’t there. You knew he was still in the apartment and there was no way he was going to hear you. You felt like you were going to die and the only thing you could think about was Eddie.

That’s when a loud thump sounded near you and the man was being lifted up in the air. You fell back on the ground landing on top of a broken bottle. You felt a sting in your palm. You looked up just in time to see Venom swallowing the man whole. There was a burp and Venom looked at you moving closer to you, gently picking you up.

‘We’ve got you,  Y/N’

Was the last thing that you heard before you blacked out.

--

You awoke in bed sitting straight up, your heart racing. What had happened? You felt pain in your hand and looked down. It had been stitched up cleanly. You gazed at the throbbing wound and it all came back to you quickly. You bit your lip thinking about how stupid it had been to go outside like that. But a bit of a warm feeling at the thought that when you had stormed out, Eddie cared enough to follow.

He entered the room then and you looked up at him as he entered. He came and sat down next to you on the bed. You looked at each other for a moment and then you rested your head on his chest as he pulled you in for an embrace. You breathed in deep at the deep satisfying pull of Eddie.

You had wanted this for a while. You breathed in his scent and pressed yourself as close as you could and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“I’ll stop” he said in your ear softly and you could almost cry. You pulled back but only enough to see his face.

“No.” You said “ I mean…. There are so many people you’re out there saving, just like me. I would have- I don’t even know what would have happened to me If you hadn’t come.”

You brushed your thumb against his face and his eyes closed as you played with his hair with your free hand. You placed your forehead on his and took a deep breath.

“but please just… Be careful. I love you. I can’t keep – I can’t keep seeing you hurt. I love you.”

Eddie cupped your face with both of his hands and pulled you in for a kiss. You felt yourself melting against him wanting to be closer than ever to him. He pulled away for a moment breathless.

“I should have – I shouldn’t have put you through that. I love you too.” His eyebrows knitted together as if he was pained. “You have no idea what you do to me. What you mean to me. I’m a fuck up I know but I never want to hurt you.” He said.

“aww.”

“shut up V.” Eddie said instinctively.

This brought a smile to your face. “Tell the big man, Thank you.” You said.

“we’ll always protect you.”

Eddie didn’t waste any more time and he grabbed your face again flipping down on the bed so that you were on top of him. You let out a wild giggle, a smile on both of your faces.

“ I love you.” He said.

“I love you.”

[horologiiium]

“Dewey made his way towards the doorway, his footsteps virtually silent as he crept closer and closer. The sounds of clinking glass jars and tupperware being pried open along with frustrated grunts grew louder and more distinct. Dewey quickly realized that the frustrated quacks were not Uncle Donald’s, and he that had no idea who was raiding the fridge.”

Duckvember #2

decided to write something for today’s prompt, and what better thing to write about than ducks

Something’s in the Kitchen

Dewey was jerked awake by the sounds of pots and pans clanging against the kitchen floor and the quick pitter-patter of webbed feet.

The duck blinked blearily despite his heart hammering against his chest, his sleep-addled brain swarming with confusion and anxiety. Dewey sat up in his bed as quick as he could in his sluggish, yet adrenalin-filled, state.

He heard the fridge door open, and someone rummaging through the contents, moving the various containers and bottles around almost carelessly. Whoever was at the fridge, they were looking for something specific.

At first, he thought it was one his brothers getting a late night snack, but the light snores of Louie and the shuffle of Huey’s sheets affirmed that both of them were in the room and asleep. His next best guess would be Uncle Donald sleepwalking again.

Slipping quietly off his bed, Dewey tip-toed his way across the room and slowly opened the door. He stepped out into the dark hallway, carefully making his way down towards the kitchen as to not accidentally wake anyone else up with his footsteps. One hallway lead to another in a winding maze -- Dewey was glad Webby had helped him and his brothers navigate the manor -- before he rounded a corner, and stopped at the sight of light flooding out of the open doorway.

Dewey made his way towards the doorway, his footsteps virtually silent as he crept closer and closer. The sounds of clinking glass jars and tupperware being pried open along with frustrated grunts grew louder and more distinct. Dewey quickly realized that the frustrated quacks were not Uncle Donald’s, and he that had no idea who was raiding the fridge.

His heart jumped against his chest and looked into the kitchen, eyes widening at the sight of an unfamiliar figure shoulders-deep in the fridge, humming as they rummaged through the food. There was food piled on the counters, all of which consisted of various vegetables. Carrots were stacked on asparagus, broccoli huddled by mushrooms, tomatoes grouped with cauliflower.

Dewey stared at the odd apparel of the figure, which consisted of a long, flowing cape that reached far past the figure’s legs and covered some of the floor behind them. A collar surrounded the figure’s head, edges pulled taut and sharp.

The figure drew themselves out of the fridge, arms cradling the green beans Dewey and his family had for dinner the previous night, and set it next to the broccoli. As the figure did so, Dewey caught a better glimpse of the intruder.

It only took a second for Dewey to deduce that they were a duck. Green feathers covered their face and hands, and a complacent smile stretched across their beak. On their head, sharp, black feathers were split down the middle and combed down, the edges reaching down past their eyes. The eyes themselves were sunken in, with dark bags under them.

The intruder turned and closed the fridge door, making no move to close it quietly, before turning back to their collection of food.

“The castle never had food like this!” they exclaimed, picking up a carrot and admiring it. “I don’t think I could ever go back to what we have there.”

The figure, which now Dewey was certain was male from their loud voice, reached his arm over the pile of vegetables and pulled out a loaf of bread Dewey swore wasn’t there in the first place. Maybe it had been buried under all the food.

“I may not know how to cook, but I do know how to make a good broccoli sandwich,” He eyed the vegetables hungrily. “Well...maybe not just a broccoli sandwich.”  

The mysterious duck opened the bag containing the bread and dumped the slices onto the counter, tossing the plastic over his shoulder without a second thought.

‘If Mrs. B was here,’ Dewey thought to himself, ‘You’d be dead mea--wait, where is Mrs. B?’

Dewey knew the housekeeper would’ve been in the kitchen faster before he even woke up, and would’ve already disposed of the intruder before Dewey reached the door.

So where was she?

Dewey watched the duck continue to make his sandwich(es), the pile of vegetables slowly disappearing into the stack of sandwiches that was slowly growing in size. Oh, Mrs. B wouldn’t like this at all. The young duck contemplated about running to get Mrs. B, but as he slid his foot towards the general direction of her room, his sleep-addled brain finally caught up to him and a memory of the previous day slipped into his mind.

“I’ll be going off to help my relatives for the week.” Beakly had said, “I trust that you three will try not to trash the manor too much, hmm?”

“Yes, Mrs. B,” all three boys chorused in the sweetest tone they could manage.

Beakly simply raised her eyebrow, before turning around and closing the door behind her.

Louie smirked and removed his hand from his back, revealing crossed fingers. “Dibs on the sniper rifle dart gun.”

Right! Mrs. B was out of town for the week! Dewey slapped himself in the face and seized up when the hit made an audible smack.

The green duck jumped at the noise, dropping the mushrooms he had in his hand, and whirled around, letting out an ‘eep!’ at the sight of Dewey standing frozen in the doorway.

“I, uh,” the duck quickly stammered out, “I wasn’t aware somebody lived, uh, here.”

Dewey seriously doubted that. How else would you explain the fresh vegetables stockpiled in the fridge?

Both the mallard and the young duck continued to stare at each other in silence, each second making both more and more uncomfortable and awkward. The intruder shuffled in his spot.

“Well...this is kinda...awkward,”

Dewey nodded stiffly, not quite sure how to go about the situation. The green duck obviously wasn’t aggressive as he wasn’t attacking Dewey (yet, he quickly added. Best not to make assumptions).

The mallard edged towards his sandwiches slowly. “Uh, good talk, kid, but I’m just gonna take my leave right now, alright?”

He gathered his sandwiches quickly, loose vegetables rolling across the floor. The duck jammed a carrot into his mouth, and Dewey watched in surprise as a dark cloud began to form above the duck’s head, lightning crackling around it.

The mallard’s feet left the ground as he rose up to the cloud, the dark mass swallowing the duck easily.

Dewey stared in disbelief, his jaw hanging loose.

“W-wait!” he croaked out suddenly.

The mallard stopped midair, the cloud dissipating in a small poof, and looked down at Dewey with wide eyes.

“I-eh, uh-well,” Dewey stumbled clumsily over his words, “W-who are you?”

He eyed the space between the green mallard and the ground warily. “What are you?”

The floating duck cleared his throat uncomfortably, carrot hanging from his mouth. His words slurred over the vegetable as he spoke. “Oh, well, I’m-”

He suddenly dropped to the floor with a startled squawk, his sandwiches and carrot scattering across the room. A mushroom bounced off of Dewey’s foot.

“I always forget that happens!” the mallard said, picking himself off the floor. “Why is teleporting even like that?!”

He scowled at the spilled food. All these precious vegetables, wasted!

“I’ll need to talk to Igor about this,” he grumbled under his breath. “This is the last time this will happen.”

Dewey raised an eyebrow. “Teleporting?”

“Oh, yes, teleporting. I can teleport and all that, no big deal.”

“Teleporting!”

“Yeah, what about it, kid?” The green mallard brushed off his suit and fixed his red bowtie.

“You can teleport!” Dewey threw his arms out. “How?!”

“Oh, that’s simple,” the duck replied nonchalantly, “I’m a vampire, you see. Runs in the family.”

Dewey gaped at the duck’s answer. He gave it with a handwave like it was nothing at all! Suddenly, the duck’s attire made sense. The high collar, the dapper jacket, the long cape that dragged across the floor. But there was one detail missing.

“If you’re a vampire,” Dewey said, “then where are your fangs? A vampire’s not a vampire without fangs.”

“Oh, pshaw!” The duck crossed his arms over his chest. “A vampire doesn’t need ‘em! Especially not a vegetarian one!”

“Vegetarian?!”

“That’s right! Count Duckula, the world’s most famous vegetarian vampire, right here live at-” He craned his neck around the room. “Wherever we are.”

The name Duckula sounded familiar to Dewey. Scrooge had mentioned a ‘Castle Duckula’ one time, when he was griping about various castles he could very easily buy to make attractions or hotels out of but each had issues that prevented him from doing so. Castle Duckula had the odd problem of disappearing suddenly, only to reappear a few hours later. It also had a werewolf somewhere inside it.

Maybe this Count Duckula lived in the Castle Duckula. It’d make sense.

“Listen, kid, I’d love to chat,” Count Duckula began, picking up some stray vegetables on the counter, “but I really got to get going. The castle left without me so now I’m kinda stuck here until it comes back. I’m just gonna look around town for the rest of the night. Don’t want to keep intruding on your property, you know?”

“Why don’t you just teleport to the castle?” Dewey asked, bewildered.

Duckula pulled a face. “Transylvania is a long ways away. I can’t teleport that far.”

“Oh.”

Duckula gathered as many vegetables as he could into his arms, and not before long, a dark cloud started to form above his head. The vegetarian vampire grinned as he slowly rose up into the air.

“See ya later! It was nice meeting you!”

And with that, he disappeared into the cloud. The cloud folded in on itself and dissipated, leaving no trace that the count was ever there in the first place.

Well, almost.

Dewey glanced down at the mess of vegetables and bread that reached the far ends of the kitchen. In the back of his head, Mrs. B’s voice rang out.

“Try not to trash the manor too much, hmm?”

The young duck groaned, turning around to go grab a broom. This was going to be a long night.

[eldbitch-horror]

I’ve Seen The World, Done It All: Chapter 1

this is a late late late commission for @avidreadr2004 who has been immensely patient with me and is so so sweet. this is part 1 of 2. A little Igor and Ashmead for you all. this is just fluff and build up at this point. hope you all enjoy! 

Can also be read here 

The sun shown bright, deceptive to the chilled air outside. No snow yet, just dead trees and grass. It was fitting really.

An exhausted man sat alone in a train car, on his way to the countrysides of France. The doctor said it would be good for him, help him clear his head. He wasn’t sure anything could really do much to purge his mind of the nightmares that had squirmed their way into his mind. He had seen too much. Of course he kept his play boy personality, but Ellis wasn’t feeling it like he used to. The touch of a woman didn’t even feel right anymore, and that was something that he had always been able to count on.

Tired green eyes watched the dead landscape whizz by. He was sick of being on the train. Sick of the tea, sick of his robe. Sick of everything. Maybe he was just sick in general. Coming down with something. Or maybe it was all in his head. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, and lay his head back.

He didn’t recall falling asleep, but he was woken by the train squealing to a halt. He got up quickly, not noticing his curls defying gravity as he grabbed his luggage and quickly got off the train. A car was waiting for him, and he got in. More bumping, more dead countryside. Bleak. So very bleak.

“Make it snappy, if you would.” He urged the driver, who nodded but didn’t seem to give a shit either way. Typical.

Luckily it wasn’t a very long drive, but it was long enough. He felt so restless, yet felt like doing nothing at all. It was maddening. The house was large, illustrious. Coco was a good friend, and he was glad he shacked up with her those many months ago. The driver took his bags in, a maid showed him up to his room.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He winked at her, and she giggled as she left the room. He took it in with dull eyes. Luxurious, beautifully decorated. Gentle fingertips brushed across the bedding, the dresser, the lamp. He sat down in an armchair, and lit a cigarette with a heavy sigh. Once again he closed his eyes, not that he wanted to sleep, the risk of nightmares was far too high. It just felt exhausting to keep his eyes open as well.

He finished his cigarette quickly, and put it out in a nearby ashtray. Despite his unwillingness, there he was, drifting off into oblivion, until a loud hacking interrupted him. It startled him awake, and he blinked, looking around with a sharp inhale. He then let out a long breath and rubbed his face. He had forgotten others were occupying the large home.

“Isn’t that just like you, Ashmead. Forget about the whole fucking world but yourself.” he berated, and stood from his seat. After a short stretch he was ready to go poke about and see who was making that noise. Just as he was about to step out of his room to go be nosy, something much more appealing caught his ear. A piano, being gently plunked into a soft melody. He averted course back downstairs, following the noise. It felt good to hear it, and he couldn’t place why. It felt soothing, like a mother’s lullaby. It had sad undertones, pulling at his heart.

He gently opened a large door that separated himself from the noise, and it creaked to his chagrin. The player stopped, and looked to him.

“Oh god, please don’t stop. I’m sorry I’m uh- well I’ve just heard you start playing, and had to know the source of such a beautiful song.” Always the charmer. The man playing looked pleased, and he nodded in a shy way,

“Thank you, It’s something I composed, but not recently.” Now, Ellis knew he recognized this man, but he wasn’t quite sure from what. His accent was thick, Russian he presumed.

“Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett.” He held out his hand, and the musician took it in a firm grasp,

“Igor Stravinsky.” Ellis looked dumbstruck at that, and for perhaps once in his life was lost for words. He limply shook his hand.

“The Igor Stravinsky? I must be a fool. I didn’t- Well I just haven’t ever had the pleasure of seeing you. I’ve heard your work though. Very passionate. Artistic!” He prattled on, but it seemed Igor didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled, eyes twinkling.

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” He then turned back to his piano, to continue playing. Ellis took a seat within the parlor, and closed his eyes. This time, harsh memories didn’t invade his vision, but instead the sweet visions the melody injected into his imagination. The tension he didn’t know he had been holding melted away into the seat. Time seemed to slip away into the void, and Ellis happily followed.

He was sorely disappointed when a bell rang, and Igor stopped playing. “That is the lunch bell, I believe.” He seemed a bit unsure about that information, and it made Ellis wonder how long they had been here for. Apparently not long. Now that he was grounded back into reality, he followed Igor out to the dining room.

Certainly it should have been no surprise to see four children and a woman already seated, but suddenly Ellis felt as if he were intruding. He wasn’t the kind of man to really care if he were though. Yet in this new life he now had to call his own, he felt more reserved, sheepish. He greeted them each, learning their names and of course being as charming as ever with Igor’s assumed wife. After pleasantries were exchanged, he sat down to eat.

Lunch was short, and mostly quiet. The children seemed well behaved, which was refreshing. He didn’t care for hellions running about and causing a mess. It was Catherine who made a suggestion, her breaths seeming short and lost as if she had just been running. He couldn’t understand what she said, speaking Russian. A language he never bothered to learn.

“She’s suggesting I show you around the grounds. Would you like that?” Igor asked, and if Ellis wasn’t mistaken he seemed almost hopeful. He found himself feeling the same way.

“Smashing idea, really. I’d love to. Do you know the current weather? Ah I’m a fool once again, I’ve just come in from outside just an hour ago. It’s mild.”

Igor wasn’t sure what he was thinking about this man. He certainly didn’t dislike him, but he spoke so quickly, but with passion. If he would only speak slower, he would better understand what he was saying. Igor had only a loose grasp on the english language. Igor didn’t really have to understand much because he didn’t have to do a lot of responding.

As they walked through the gardens, Igor’s hands in his pockets, he just listened to the information Ellis dumped. It was all about his travels, and the experiences he had doing so. Igor was gathering he was a bit of a playboy. Childish could be used, if it didn’t have such rude connotations. Ellis finally stopped talking after some time, but that made the air feel dead. He found he liked his prattling.

“You were there in Gallipoli?” It was the one thing he did know about Ellis, from articles and the like. He hoped it would strike up conversation. It didn’t quite have the affect he expected. Bartlett clammed up, subtle tensions in his body making him look stiff.

“Yes I was there. It wasn’t much to talk about. I published what I could about it anyways. Was a dull place, so I wouldn’t suggest reading it.” He gave a smile that Igor noted did not reach his eyes, but he returned the smile. He noted to never bring it up again.

Things were slow throughout the next few weeks. It wasn’t Ellis’s normal pace, but he was finding he liked it. Perhaps it wasn’t the pace, but the company. He quickly learned that the esteemed musician wife was bedridden, and he was often left to his activities alone. At least he used to be left alone. Ellis no longer left him alone. Hardly at all anymore, in fact. When he did leave him alone, Igor came to find him.

Ellis wasn’t sure why, but he felt a profound peace while with Igor. He had nearly forgotten about Gallipoli. His mind was filled with his new friend. He was just his friend, wasn’t he? Ellis had some interesting experiences, but they weren’t pleasant ones in the aspect of men and romance. Though in retrospect that was hardly romance. This was far different than that. This was something he had never felt before.

Igor was down playing a new tune, or perhaps it wasn’t new. Ellis had a hard time distinguishing. He just enjoyed whatever he made. He listened through the floor as he sat smoking in his chair, but soon meandered downstairs. Gently opening the door, he gazed Igor’s strong back. It was a poor attempt to sneak, but he didn’t want him to stop. It seemed to have worked, as Igor had acknowledged him being there with a smile, but he didn’t look away from his music nor did he stop playing. He got to the end of the score and finally turned to Ellis.

“Do you like it?” he asked in his thick accent, eyes sparkling as if he knew the answer. He did.

“Yes, it’s fantastic.” Ellis got up, and moved to sit beside him on the piano bench. “Would you show me? I never got the chance to get lessons.”

Igor thought for a moment, staring down at Ellis hands, measuring them in a sense.

“Yes, I will show you. Place your hands on the keys like this.” He splayed his fingers across the keys, and Ellis mimed the action. “I can’t promise being a good teacher, I haven’t ever tried.”

Ellis nodded, “I can’t promise to be a good student then.” He smirked to him, and Igor slowly plunked a few keys. It was smooth, and beautiful. Again Ellis tried to mimic the action, but it came out sounding choppy and sharp.

“Maybe I should stop before I break it.” he noted with embarrassment, but Igor shook his head,

“No no, like this.” Again the sweet miniature tune came out, and again Ellis tried it. The same result. Igor gently placed a hand over Ellis’s, and guided his fingers down with gentle pressure. A tight feeling coiled in Ellis’s gut, his fingers were long, and his palms wide. They covered his own thick, stocky hands. He leaned himself into Igor, who didn’t protest the pressure.

Igor played with his free hand, and guided Ellis’s with the other. And in this way, Ellis could make music. In this way, Ellis felt a sense of home he had always been looking for. His disappointment was overwhelming when Igor retracted his hand. He turned his head to face him, and found Igor hovering close, eyes gazing down at him. Before he could open his big mouth to make a comment it was caught up in Igor’s uneven lips. It was a perfect fit. He reached to cup the older man’s face, tipping his head to deepen the kiss. Of course it too had to end, but they were both left smiling. He felt like a young lad again, and he leaned into Igor like one. Igor wrapped an arm around him, and held him secure to his side.

This was something completely new to Igor. This sense of calm and peace with another man. It was a feeling hard to put into words. It felt like a hot meal during the cold Russian winters. A gentle touch during dark times. He found himself desperate for his company, and desperate for his touch. Their walks through the estate, though still including much prattling, no longer left much space between them. Ellis walked right by his side, their hands intertwined. If their fingers weren’t tangled together Igor had his arm around Ellis. Their relationship was blooming like the flowers now were, budding along with the trees in the orchards. It was soft, just like the spring.

[taintedkibou]

Crow's punch sent Joker stumbling backwards. His hand caught the edge of the desk, keeping him upright. "How could you even think that?! The world—"

"Isn't perfect," Joker spat, tasting blood in his mouth. "We can make it perfect."

"By accepting Lavenza's guidance!" Crow shouted, hands fisted at his sides.

Joker sneered. "We can make it perfect by staying Thieves and changing the hearts of all the lowly humans that taint it."

Igor's soft laughter drew their attention and Crow moved protectively in front of the petite girl. "This is a perfect example of why you should let me take control of this world. You are both filled with discord. Two sides of the same coin. Lavenza tried to reach you before I ripped her apart." His gaze focused on the scowling Joker. "I guess you didn't hear her voice. Being in control of so many pawns—it's been such an interesting game. What will your decision be?" Igor's voice faded, as did his body. "Time is running out..." 

//

Joker ripped off his mask with an enraged yell, "You don't get it, do you?! Without this... I'm useless. I will have nothing to go back to." His lips trembled, twisting upward in a shaky grin. "I'll just be crazy. The boy who thought another world existed."

"You're smart—"

"And adults are stupid!" Akira covered his ears, trying to shut out the voices of reason. Without this amazing gift, Ryuji and Yusuke would leave him. They had a bright future to look forward to, and he would be an unsightly stain. "I'll... still be useless if they don't accept me."

"You made it this far," Crow reminded him in a soft voice. "You weren't the one used... to commit murders." Via the long nose of his mask, he pushed it up onto his head. "Our end goals are the same. Why can't we...? And then we'll never have to see each other again."

"That's a lie," Akira scoffed, running his fingers through his hair. "You'll probably have Niijima arrest me."

"As a prosecutor, she doesn't have the power—"

"So help me, you imposter tengu, I will stab you with your own mask."

The lilting giggle reminded both teens that they were guests in someone else's domain. "Lavenza." Akechi bowed his head.

Akira stared down his nose at the diminutive attendant. "So, you're that annoying one and the one I never saw... put together. Your personality doesn't match."

Lavenza blinked innocently up at the brunet. "Would you like to see me lose my temper like Justine did?"

Akira smirked. "You're a deadly one, aren't you?"

Lavenza's only response was a soft laugh.

//

Akira found Futaba first.

The young girl threw herself at him after the bars opened, and he held her as she sobbed, rubbing comforting circles on her back with a gentle smile. Once she'd calmed down enough, Futaba grinned at him. "You found me first?"

Akira winked. "I'm saving the best for last."

The redhead pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. The look softened into a small smile, her Thief attire materializing suddenly. "I'll stay here. This is your journey. Bring us all back together, 'kay?"

"Of course."

x

Yusuke's eyes widened after spotting the black clad figure and he pushed away from the wall to stand in front of his cell door. Akira smiled sheepishly. "I'm glad you're o—"

Once he'd gotten close enough, Yusuke reached through the bars and snagged the lapels of Joker's coat. If it wasn't for Akira's quick thinking—bracing his hands in front of himself—he would've slammed painfully into the metal. "I understand if you're upset...!"

Yusuke said nothing. He cupped the back of Akira's head with his left hand--the right still held him in place--and brought him even closer so they could share a kiss through the bars. It was nothing like the friendly pecks they shared before, and Akira found himself lightheaded when they finally separated. 

"When I came to and found myself in this cell, I thought... how fitting." His hands rose, cupping Akira's surprised face. "As we disappeared from that hideous world, my only concerns were that I'd never get to see Ryuji again. Never get to see you again." Yusuke closed his eyes, chuckling low and soft, and pressed their foreheads together. "I finally understand Ryuji's conflicting thoughts and behavior where you are concerned. I do believe I'm finally in love with you, Kurusu Akira. And the pain of knowing I would never get to tell you surpassed that of my body turning to nothing."

Eyes still closed, Yusuke tilted his head, seeking Akira's mouth for another kiss. 

//

Ryuji didn't bother lifting his head after hearing the rustle of cloth outside the cell door. "Yo..." he muttered. "Is this hell? Did we die out there...?"

Akira didn't have an answer for Ryuji's questions because he was just as lost and clueless as the next person. He sank into a crouch, hands folded between his thighs. "If it is hell, aren't you glad you're here with me?"

Ryuji finally lifted his head, taking in all of Akira. During the past several months, he experienced things he would never have even dreamed of being possible. Loved, and found love. Made unexpected friends that stuck with him. Ryuji laughed softly, all doubt gone from his being as he grinned at the masked teen. "I am!"

"Then let's get out of here. Together." 

x

Yusuke's statement to Futaba came to an abrupt end the moment he spotted Joker leading Skull towards them. The redhead giggled and pushed him towards the pair. He silently thanked her as his steps quickened to reach them faster. Joker easily sidestepped out of the way, but Yusuke's reach was long and his wrist was ensnared. Yusuke's other arm went around Skull's neck and the blond had to stop himself from climbing his boyfriend.

"I'm worried you guys will have sex in public when we save the world," Akira sighed, shaking his captured arm. "This is just a reunion."

Ryuji broke the kiss and grinned at Yusuke. "Whaddaya think? Should we have sex in public?"

"E...exhibitionism!" Futaba sputtered, pointing an accusing finger. Haru hid behind her hat.

"You pick the time and place and I'll be there," Yusuke hummed in response.

"Inari!" Futaba's cheeks were a bright pink, her arms crossed in front of her face.

Haru cleared her throat and the small group followed her stare to Crow and his team. Ann's stare of disbelief was locked solely on the couple. Makoto looked collected, but she was the only one that knew what thoughts swam in her head. Crow and Joker stared each other down, unyielding.

Lavenza stood calmly between the two different teams, shifting her gaze from one side to the other. Her voice reached them both. Together, they should be able to put an end to the encroaching ruin. If they didn't end each other first. She smiled at her own quip.

//

"I think we should form different groups," Crow mused aloud at the base of the skeletal path that would lead them to their mutual foe. Hell broke loose with that statement; voices were shouting, rising louder than the chaos above and below them. A shrill whistle cut through the noise, Noir being its source.

"He's right," she sighed. "I think I'll go with Crow."

Skull's eyes widened. "Noir, why?!"

An almost sad smile was directed at him. "I can't heal you."

"If we beat them up quick enough, nobody gets hurt," the blond argued.

"I'll take your place," Queen declared.

Skull drew back. He didn't have anything against her; he just didn't know her. What wrongs had she suffered? "I believe hers was a personal battle," Fox stated soft enough for only him to hear. "Not everyone has cases like ours."

Skull exhaled deeply. His glare was toned down into a frown, which remained directed at the intimidating figure. "They call you Queen," he muttered in lieu of small talk. "Does that mean everyone listens to you?"

"No," Queen replied curtly. "We all have our own opinions. We share them with each other after accessing the situation."

"Skull," Navi interrupted before a one-sided argument could break out. "The longer we stand here, the more that idiot god gets the upper hand."

"She's right," Crow sighed.

"Of course I am." Navi dropped into a crouch so she was eye level with Morgana, and patted the cat-like creature on the head. "Mona, you stay with Crow. Take care of Haru, or else." Morgana yowled at the sudden pressure to his head, jumping away from Navi's hand. "And everyone protects me," the redhead chirped, indicating to her grinning face.

"I gave you armor," Joker reminded her with a pointed stare. Navi's grin only widened, a cheeky laugh escaping.

It was Noir that reminded them they were on a mission. She hoisted her axe onto her shoulder, an act that always brought a grin to Skull's face. "My lady!" he cheered, holding out a fist.

Noir giggled, mimicking his actions to knock their fists together. "Make sure you kick ass, Skull."

Queen's astounded reaction brought Joker smug satisfaction. 'You go to the same school and yet you know nothing about your peers.' He shook his head and turned away with a flap of his coat's tails. "We have company, you two. Keep your personal celebrations to a minimum when we win against the small fry."

A smirk was directed at their new companion, who responded with a tight smile. 

Note: Might as well let this see some light of day. It’ll probably never make it to Ao3 D:

[thorne93]

Not What You Thought It Was (Part 4)

Prompt: What happens when Victor Frankenstein and an electrician’s assistant meet? History.

Word Count: 2350

Warnings: Spoilers, if you have NOT seen Victor Frankenstein and want to - TURN BACK. Maybe language. gore, etc.

Notes: This took me forever to write, and for that, I’m angry. But thanks to @queendivaofthedark I finally got it. Also, this is based on the 2015 Victor Frankenstein with James McAvoy and Daniel Radcliffe

Tagging: @cocosierra94​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Making lunch, you were in the apartment alone the next day. Igor and Victor had gone off for parts you believed.

 A knock came and you happily answered it.

 “Oh, Inspector Turpin. I’m sorry, Victor is gone.”

 “Gone?”

 “I mean, he won’t be back for quite some time,” you corrected politely.

“That’s quite alright, it’s you I’d like to speak to anyway,” he said, letting himself in. You shut the door as he spun to face you. “Trousers? A woman...in...trousers?” he asked.

 You glanced down to your attired. “Well, yes. It is my home afterall, I’ll dress how I please.”

 “Figures that Frankenstein would court a woman of such...caliber.”

 You shook your head lightly, ignoring the remark. “What is it you needed, Inspector?”

 “Could you tell me a little about Mr. Frankenstein’s hobbies? His...interests?”

 “Why do you care to know about that?” you questioned, wondering where this was going.

 “Merely to know how and where he spends his time.”

 “Oh.” You started to pace around the room, your hands behind your back. “Well, when he’s not at school, he’s typically here, doing research, conducting experiments, reading.”

 “What sorts of experiments?”

 “Oh, you know, he likes to see if he can keep things alive.”

 “Is that so?”

 “Yes, we have a small indoor garden he frequently works with,” you added, trying to keep a wicked smile off your face. You knew you had this inspector going, and it pleased you that he thought you were that dimwitted, only to discover you weren’t so easily fooled.

 “I see. So where is he when he goes out at night?”

 “I’m not entirely sure, Inspector. Our social lives aren’t exactly intertwined.”

 “And why is that? Are you not engaged to be wed?”

 “We are but frankly, we try to socialize with other people, otherwise we would kill each other.” You laughed a little. That was hardly true. What was true was that you were free to party and socialize with whom you wished and Victor was a recluse.

 “Yes and do you help him in these...experiments? I hear you work at a local electrician's shop.”

 You nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I work for an electrician but what does that have to do with anything?”

 “And the experiments?”

 “Yes, I help.”

 “And does it bother your conscience?” he inquired, his cold, dark eyes staring into yours.

 “To practice science, not in the slightest.”

 “To challenge right and wrong, to challenge our Lord and savior.”

 “Look, Inspector, I know you and I probably share different beliefs. Unlike Victor, I can respect that. You’re more conservative and I’m progressive, that’s all. I don’t believe what I’m doing is.”

 “And what about what he’s doing?”

 “I beg your pardon?” you said, confused.

 “I mean, do you think the man who lies with you at night is the same man who you sit next to in the lab?” he asked.

 You blanched. This man had more gall than you imagined.

 “That’s none of your business. I’d like you to leave now,” you said.

 He perched an eyebrow and began to leave, as you held the door open for him. He turned to you and said, “But let me ask you this. Does he love the experiment more than he loves you? Or perhaps he simply loves himself more than he loves you.”

 The tiniest smirk came to his face as he left.

 As soon as the door closed, your heart took a hit from the Inspector’s word. Usually, something like that wouldn’t have bothered you. But the question he posed at you...it was one you had begun to ask yourself lately.

 Victor was changing. He was mad. You had been trying to hold onto hopes and notions that weren’t there. You were holding onto fraying strings. You had tried and tried to pull him from his madness but nothing was availing. You hated the Inspector for forcing you to think of it, see the truth…

 Perhaps he was just trying to get in your head, to divide you, to pit you against each other. At any rate, you weren’t going to listen to a man so deep in his religion he could hardly be rational.

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

 Some time later, Victor had returned home and begun sketching again while you tidied up the house. You’d offered to look at the sketch and help with building the being but he asked that it be left to him. Igor was out doing God knows what.

 In the meantime, Victor’s drawing and sketching had become manic. He was mumbling to himself frantically, sketching rapidly, sometimes even hitting his head to think straight. You watched on from afar as you dusted, swept, rearranged, picked up. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room. No matter what noise you made or how you stepped around him, he didn’t respond. He was lost in a world all his own.

 You heard some keys jangling at the door and you assumed Igor must be back. That was partially true, but in with Igor came the hulking, tall man that was Victor’s father. You nearly dropped the vase that was in your hand.

 “Where have you been? Not wise to be out on the town when there's a manhunt on,” Victor advised, making you surprised that he even realized someone had entered the flat. You were stricken with fear as he came in, suddenly stepping on the piece that was the creature’s heart. “Get off his heart!” Victor demanded in a harsh tone, pointing at his father’s feet. You could do nothing but stand and watch.

 “Get up,” Mr. Frankenstein demanded in an intimidating tone. This man always sent shivers down your back. You’d met him around ten times since you’d been with Victor. “Leave,” he instructed to you and Igor. You quickly went to Igor and grabbed his arm gently and wheeled him into Igor’s bedroom. You spun and held a finger to your lips as you stood against the doorway to eavesdrop.

 Victor seemed animated however. “Father, I'm so excited that you've come. Your timing is impeccable. I've had such breakthroughs with my--”

 “I don’t care,” Mr. Frankenstein said with frustrated exhaustion. The words made you feel for Victor. His father was the one man he tried desperately to impress, to make happy, to make him proud. But he also loathed him for not seeing how important his research and experiments were. “I don't care about your poorly researched theories or your disastrous experiments.”

You closed your eyes and tried not to focus on the pain you knew this was causing Victor, and even you. His father didn’t understand the research like you did. He didn’t understand how close you all were or how important this all was.

 “Not poorly researched, I've told you--”

 “Victor, silence. Yesterday I received a telegram...informing me that you are to go before the board of directors at the college. They say you neglect your schoolwork. They intend to expel you.”

 Holding in a gasp and a shock to the heart, you kept silent and still. Igor’s eyes were on yours the entire time. You two shared a look of shock and sorrow for Victor. He had really lost it, hadn’t he? He was neglecting schoolwork? How could he do that? What was he doing all day at school then?

 At this, Victor became upset. He always turned...more childlike around his father. Not childish but it was almost as if he lost power or a voice when his father was around.

 “No, they can’t!” he begged.

 “Can’t they?” his father challenged.

 “The work I am doing is far more important than anything they are conducting at that damn school,” Victor spat.

 You shook your head and clutched your chest. What lengths would you have to go through to save him from this madness?

 “You're a fool, Victor. You always have been. If only you could have been more like Henry. But you...You just bring shame to the name Frankenstein.”

 A whimper was caught in your throat as you had to swallow the harsh words of his father.

 Victor responded arrogantly, “I will ensure that the name of Frankenstein is never forgotten!”

 A slap rang out in the apartment and a thud, making you froze. Now, your blood was boiling. No longer were you afraid of this man. You stepped out of the room and ran to Victor and checked his cheek, glancing up to his father.

 “Y/N, you are supposed to keep him from doing such foolish things!” Mr. Frankenstein shouted at you.

 You stood up to face him, Victor still laying on the floor, his hand on his cheek.

 “Sir, I’m doing my best to support Victor, to help him in his endeavors.”

 “And that’s precisely the problem! You should be stopping him from these experiments. Tell him this research isn’t worth his time. For God’s sake woman, can’t you see he’s greedy for something which will never be his? He’s a laughing stock!”

 “He’s made progress,” you countered.

 “Progress in what?”

 “Giving life.”

 “Aren’t you supposed to do that? As a woman you’re supposed to bore his children, make him settle down and be a family man, push him to finish medical school.”

 “No, as his partner in life, I am to support him and help him, and that is what I am trying to do.”

 “I should’ve expected as much from a woman who works at a man’s job and wears improper clothing. You��re just another disappointment of Victor’s in his long list of mistakes. I hope you two make each other very happy, because you’re not making anyone else happy.”

 He spun on his heel and left. You crouched beside Victor as soon as he was gone, wondering if you’d burst into tears. You left to get ice for his mark. When you returned, Victor was sitting up in his chair, still holding the swollen red cheek.

 “Thank you,” he softly said, taking the ice.

 “It’s my job to take care of you,” you said sweetly as you pushed the hair out of his face.

 “According to my father it’s your job to stop me,” he said with a scoff and roll of his eyes.

 “Shh,” you instructed, kissing his forehead. “But your schoolwork, Victor, how could you?”

 “Oh, so now I’m getting it from you, am I?” he questioned, irritated.

 “I’m just trying to understand why you would throw away your work and career away.”

 “Because of what we are doing here!” he nearly shouted. “Because of what we are doing, I don’t need that blasted school and those overrated grades and accolades.”

 You sat a moment, still crouching in front of him, your hands on his knees. “Darling, I love our research, I love you, but I thought that the research was a side project and that your schooling would take precedence.”

 “No. Finnegan needs a man, I’m working to do that.”

 You smiled gently at him. “I know, darling, I know. But perhaps...perhaps you should’ve focused on school a bit more.”

 “Well it’s too late now, hmm? At least if I’m not at school I’ll have more time for our research.”

 Your mouth screwed to the side. He was looking at this entirely wrong. Perhaps...perhaps the inspector and his father were right. Regardless of the ethical side of this experiment, he was entirely obsessed with this endeavor, stopping at nothing, letting all he’s worked for get destroyed for some half-cocked notion.

 You loved the experiment and the research, that was still true. You still wanted to see if it could be done, but it could be done slowly, piece by piece. Not to abandon all else in this journey to the answers. That’s where you and Victor differed. He was all consumed by this, but you were willing to take your whole life to find out. Sure, before Igor you wanted answers immediately, but now that you saw what it was doing to the love of your life, you started to loathe it. It was taking him away from you.

 But you wouldn’t give up on him. Victor was your life, your love, your partner. You’d do everything in your power to support him. And if seeing this….abomination was the key to unlocking his sanity, you would do it.

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

After a few hours, you retrieved Igor, letting him know it was okay to come out. He joined you out in the main area of the flat and asked Victor what he was sketching. Victor answered and then proceeded to hit himself, calling himself stupid, until you ran up and soothed him.

 “He’s not big enough,” Igor suddenly said.

 “Yes--what?” Victor asked as you both came away from the window to see what he was talking about.

 “Gordon was fast and strong, sure, but he couldn't sustain any of that. And towards the end, he was having some real trouble breathing,” he informed.

 “That’s right. He also had some auditory issues. He couldn’t tell where sounds were coming from.”

 After that, the men went back and forth on getting a better charge, with you throwing in your opinion and thoughts. Until they realized that the body, regardless of the charged used, still can’t just accept that. It would need the means to sustain all that power.

 “What if we doubled it?” you suggested.

 “Doubled what, my dear?” Victor asked affectionately.

 “Everything. Two pairs of lungs, hearts, liver...The problem is the 1 shell can’t contain the amount of energy we give it, right? What if we were to create a man that had 2 of everything, then the power would be dispersed.”

 Igor and Victor stared at you in awe.

 “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Igor agreed.

 “Not a bad idea? My future wife is a genius!” He lunged at you and kissed you excitedly and all over, making you laugh.

 Igor suggested whiskey to celebrate and Victor agreed. You decided to not partake, as you wanted to remain sober for the brainstorming and you had work in the morning.

[whoisshesposts]

You are the sun (Theseus Scamander x Reader)

Okay sweeties, this is my first try on writing a one shot fan fiction story and I’m quite nervous to post it. I’m used to writing longer stories in my native language, so if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, please let me know! :) I really look forward to hearing what you guys think! 

Prompt: Imagine being forced to work with Theseus Scamander, but you haven’t spoken for years after you both graduated from Hogwarts.

Summary: Y/N is a hit witch at the Ministry of Magic. It’s her job to arrest dangerous and less dangerous criminals. Just after her day shift ended, she got a message that there was an emergency: there were rumours Grindelwald had returned to London.

Word count: 1,807

Warnings: angst, minor mentions of death.

The London streets were sparkling with the street lights’ reflection in the water that fell down from the sky, when you apparated in a dark alley. It didn’t take you long to realize you had appeared in the wrong spot, and with a grunt you looked at the red phone box across the busy street that separated you from your destination. You tried to shield yourself from the pouring rain by pulling your coat collar up, but you were drenched within a few seconds. With firm steps you made your way onto the main road, trying to blend in the crowd of the Muggles passing you. A few buses honked when you crossed the road without looking, but you didn’t have the luxury to linger. Not today. When you reached the phone box you didn’t even bother to look around before you stepped inside and dialed “62442”. Not long after, the phone box descended into the Ministry of Magic.

You made your way to Level 2 as fast as you could, not even noticing the trail of raindrops you left behind. The closer you got to the office, the more people you saw rushing towards the meeting room. Most of them were Aurors, but when you entered the office you saw so many others: Aurors, the complete Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and your colleague Hit Witches and Wizards. The room was crammed and the air filled with nervous whispers. You tried to wipe the hair from your face that stuck to your cheeks, but were interrupted by Igor Volkov, one of your colleagues. “They say he returned to London”, he whispered. “So they say indeed”, you answered. You opened your mouth again to elaborate, but you were interrupted by the Minister of Magic himself. He barely said anything about the matter, rushed through his speech and left the room before anyone even knew it was already over. You stood still for a second, too surprised by the Minister’s lack of care, when Igor grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room.

Great. Apparently you had missed quite an important detail in the letter; you had forgotten to read the back that stated everyone was going to be part of smaller patrols. The Head Auror had designed his patrols carefully, so now you stood eye-to-eye with your old school friend Theseus Scamander. The friend that barely spoke to you anymore after graduating and the friend that eventually never got in touch again. The person you sometimes saw across the hall, rushing past, not even noticing you and the one that you still had a soft spot for in your heart. He gave you a stern look for just a second when Igor pushed you forward between the other eight people in the room, but turned away almost immediately when you looked back.

“Everything you’ve heard is most likely true. We have a great reason to believe Grindelwald has escaped and returned to England. His fanatics are acting up and need to be stopped immediately. And to do so, we need your help”, Theseus stated, carefully looking everyone in the eye, except for you. “I need to be able to trust each and every one of you…” his gaze shifted your way for just a split second, “.. because this mission is dangerous and will require the utmost attention and teamwork. We will look for Grindelwald fanatics and the man himself. If anyone wants to turn back now, they can, and no one will think less of you.” It went quiet, but no one moved. “Good”, Theseus said. “We’ve got work to do.”

It wasn’t until you were already back outside when you caught up with Theseus. “I’m not an Auror”, you stated. “No, you’re not. But I do hope you’re here to help.” “I am, but-,” He interrupted you before you could finish your sentence. He suddenly stopped and turned towards you. “There is no time for buts, Y/N. Grindelwald is out there and the whole world could be at risk. I know we didn’t part on the best of terms, but I know your skills and I know we will need them.” “Didn’t part on the best of terms”, you repeated sarcastically, and he sighed impatiently. “Y/N, please. Not now.” His gaze locked with yours for a few seconds and you nodded. He then gave you a stern nod back and a lingering pat on your shoulder as if to say thank you, before pulling his hand away and turning around to the rest of his patrol. For a moment you stood there, staring at the man you, you just realized, were still in love with; feeling the touch of his hand still on your shoulder as a ghost in the night.

**********

You’d been running around with your patrol for three days straight, but there had been no sign of Grindelwald whatsoever. You had come across one or two fanatics, but the Aurors on your patrol, mainly Theseus Scamander, had been able to take them out without much fuss. For a bit you thought you were all out there for nothing, that maybe Grindelwald was still locked up in America and there was no reason why you should be running around in the cold rain all day. But Theseus kept going and everyone followed his steps without a second thought.

Your patrol had just been relieved by another and were taking shelter in a safe house for the night. Almost everyone was asleep, but you couldn’t even think about closing your eyes and letting down your guard. And you know it shouldn’t have been a surprise when Theseus walked in, because you knew him and his horrible sleeping habits, but yet you jumped when he sat down on the couch behind you. “Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly. It took some effort to keep yourself from turning around to look at him. You didn’t want to look at him now. During the day you could cope, as well as during a mission, but alone at night… not so much. You shook your head, while staring at the flames in the fireplace. “Me either”, he said. “Why am I not surprised?” The sentence slipped out before you even realized and you pressed your lips together tightly right after. You could hear a light chuckle coming from Theseus; the one he didn’t want to let out, but couldn’t hold back. One that could have been mistaken for a hick-up easily, but you knew him too well. A slight smile crept up on your lips, a few butterflies awoke in your stomach. You looked up when he sat down next to you on the carpet in front of the fireplace, his back resting against the couch. He gave you a tiny smile, one you almost missed because you looked away so quickly.

“I’m sorry I never found the time to get back in touch, Y/N”, he murmured. You shrugged. You could feel him looking at you and it took your full effort to keep staring at the flames. “It’s just…,” he started. You waited a few seconds, but he didn’t continue. He just looked at you and slowly you turned towards him. “It’s just what?”  Your gaze was locked onto his, you couldn’t look away anymore. You studied his face carefully, making sure you remembered every inch of it. You noticed he got older, but yet he still looked exactly the same. And he still gave you that same feeling in your stomach. “I wanted to make something of myself.” The butterflies you had just been feeling suddenly stopped flying. You blinked a few times, letting his words sink in. Theseus quickly shook his head. “No, no, sorry, that came out wrong. I just… You distract me.” “I distract you?” “That didn’t sound any better, did it?” “No, not really, no, try again.”

He opened his mouth to explain, but was cut off by a sudden scream outside. Theseus jumped up and grabbed his wand from his holster, while he rushed to the window. You could hear more screams outside, people yelling and crying and you could see the flashes of spells being fired reflecting in the window.

“They’re here.” You stood up quickly, grabbing your wand. Behind you the others were ready and awake, entering the room cautiously. Theseus turned around. “It’s time”, he said, and without any other word he ran through the door and off the stairs, firing spells to every dark wizard that had already managed to get inside. You and the others followed quickly, your wands close and ready to use. Several spells slipped past you when you ran outside and you fired protecting spells without hesitation. The street was filled with dozens of wizards and wizards dressed in dark robes, firing curses around like they were handing out treats. You had to leap over a few corpses on your way to a dark alley that would give you cover and you tried your best not to look down at your dead allies’ faces. You jumped your last two meters towards the alleyway when a spell almost hit you and bit your tongue when you smacked to the ground. You could taste blood on your lips and closed your eyes to stop your head from spinning. After a few seconds you felt a hand on your shoulder and another around your waist, helping you get back up. When you opened your eyes your blood stained lips curled up a little. Theseus just looked at you, worried.

“We need to retreat. There are too many”, you whispered. “The others will come”, he answered. “But you have to send word to the Minister for me.” “I can’t leave now!” you argued. “Please, Y/N. Send word to the Minister.” “You’re outnumbered. You need my skills, you said so yourself.” “Then use your skills to send word to the Minister. Please Y/N, don’t let me ask again.”

You hesitated, holding his gaze for a few seconds. The screams behind you faded away when you drowned in his eyes. You couldn’t help yourself, even after everything he’d said to you today. Theseus cupped your cheek with his free hand.

“You are the sun, Y/N.”

You had heard that sentence so many times before. It was his favourite way to describe you (‘you brighten my day’, he’d say); to make you smile and blush at the same time. You felt a tiny smile creep up on your lips and some heat crawling up to your cheeks. But this time Theseus didn’t end it the same way he used to. This time it felt as if he hit your chest with a rock.

“Every time I look at you it hurts me, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Send word to the minister for me now. Please, just get out of here.”

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Eight: The Goblet of Fire

A/N: This is the Eighth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2428

Warnings: slight mentions of blood, possible accidental self-harm trigger warning. 

Credits to Gif Creator

A small commotion from the Great Hall piqued Aria's interest, her curiosity getting the better of her. The room radiated an icy blue light emitting from the centre of the room which contained the infamous Goblet of Fire. A group of around 20 students or so surrounded the cup, all laughing and taunting the two boys who sat on the edge of the age circle that had been drawn by Albus Dumbledore, a bemused look stuck on their faces. Aria watched as their enchantment took its toll on the Weasley twins. They had been attempting to enter themselves into the Tri-Wizard tournament, but to no avail. Professor Dumbledore's spell was far too powerful for the likes of Fred and George Weasley.

Not even attempting to hold back her laughter, Aria approached the boys, helping them to their feet. Almost instantly they practically tackled the woman back down to the ground.

"I missed you boys." She grinned from ear to ear, regaining her balance, giving her skirt a thorough brush down.

Exchanging more than a few pleasantries the trio caught up with each other, before Aria remembered her position as Professor, that is. Giving the boys a light scolding for their stupidity, Aria opened her mouth to take away a number of Gryffindor's house points, however she was quickly interrupted by the hushed gasps of students and the scurrying of feet as they cleared the room, leaving only the twins, Aria Dumbledore and one Severus Snape.

The Potions Master cleared his throat catching the attention of the Students and their friend. Embarrassed she had been caught not properly carrying out her duties as Professor, Aria put some distance between herself and the Weasleys.

"Ten points from Gryffindor." Snape declared, glaring at his fellow professor more than the students. "For each of you." He finished, a rather satisfied grimace appearing on his face. The boys let out a long groan but kept their mouths shut, knowing better than to object.

"I was handling it." Aria objected, taking another step in the direction of the Potions Master.

"Clearly." He droned with a roll of his eyes. "It certainly looked like you were handling it when the three of you were carrying around on the floor, exchanging familiarity's, and hugging." His disdain for the act almost making the word almost unbearable to say.

Aria opened her mouth to explain herself but was once again interrupted by the presence of the Headmaster.

"Mr and Mr Weasley." Dumbledore announced. "I suggest the two of you make your way to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey will meet you there." The boys gave a thankful nod to the Headmaster before rushing from the room, eager to reverse their own enchantment.  "As for you, Miss Dumbledore, I advise you to keep outside relationships professional while here Hogwarts. I will not abide my Professors playing favourites among students for personal reasons, do you understand?"

"Of course, Headmaster." Aria whispered, taken aback by her grandfather's use of their shared last name.

Albus gave the pair of Professors a final sceptical look before leaving them alone. 

The young witch gave her mentor a look of disapproval, eyeing him up an down. It had been almost a month since their small heart to heart, if you could even call it that, and Severus had pulled himself together quite nicely. He had cut back on the binge drinking and was getting at least some amount of sleep, whereas before Aria wasn't sure if he had been getting any at all. Just as much as he had regained his physical appearance, he had almost completely reverted back to his arrogant self. Only this time he was not quite as vocal about his dislike for his apprentice.

Neither of them had attempted much of a conversation regarding anything other than work but they had gotten used to each other's company and often spent the evenings marking together comfortable silence, occasionally sharing the odd pot of coffee on those long nights when neither of them had the energy to stay awake.

The past few days however, saw Severus begin to pick up his bad habits once more. Not so much the drinking, but his insomnia and irritability, particularly towards Miss Dumbledore, had definitely made a comeback. Yet, she couldn't quite figure out what was making him act this way. The Professor had made it clear to her there was an another factor besides herself but she had not one clue what, or rather who, it might be.

Aria kept her distance from the man over the weekend following their last meeting, hoping not to aggravate him any more than necessary. Although one thing Aria did not have the ability to control was her curiosity. She could not help but be drawn to anything she deemed interesting. She had no self control and just always had to get herself involved, whether she was welcome or not.

An occasion where her inability to keep out of other people's business proved a nuisance occurred no longer than a few days later, following the Weasley twin incident.

Sat alone in her chambers, quietly reading to herself, Aria could not help but overhear the hushed argument occurring in the hall. She knew she shouldn't snoop; she told herself it would only end badly. But the whispers were practically calling to her as they made their way along the dungeon halls into her private quarters.

Although she could not make out the dialogue, she immediately recognised the voices; Severus Snape and Igor Karkaroff, Headmaster of Durmstrang. The unlikely pair only intrigued her more, but she fought the urge to intrude.

As quickly as they had begun the hushed tones of the men disappeared out of ear shot. The sound of Snape's office door slamming behind them. Content with not being able to hear the voices any longer, Aria was able to suppress her urge to interfere and get back to happily reading her book.

That is until the sound of shattering glass filled the halls followed by less hushed tones from the men. Igor was practically shouting at Severus meanwhile the Potions Master chose his words extremely carefully, never letting his voice raise above a certain volume. The voices continued to argue, Severus telling Igor over and over again to leave, but the man refused to listen. It was clear to Aria that Igor was testing Snape's patience and any minute now the man would snap, just as he had done with her many times before.

Another smashing sound came. Then a throaty cry from Severus. His tone a mix of anger, pain and impatience.

"Get out, now." The Potions Master finally said, his voice full of venom and dangerously low in volume. The only reason Aria heard any of this was that she was now almost fully out of her chambers and making her way down the dimly lit hall.

She passed a rather flustered looking Karkaroff on her way down to meet Severus. The Durmstrang headmaster locked his eyes onto her own, a look of danger swimming inside his mind. His gaze slowly lowered itself down the whole of her body, taking in every inch of the woman's physique. She couldn't help but notice the unnerving wink he gave her as she walked by.

Eager to get to her colleague and mentor, she uncomfortably shuffled past the man, rushing her way down the rest of the hallway. By the time she got there Severus Snape's door had once again been slammed shut.

Gingerly rapping her knuckles against the cold hard wood, Aria let herself into the room, making sure to close to door behind her once more.

"Severus." She whispered, making herself known to the man who's back was turned to her. "Are you okay? I heard glass smashing, did he break anything?" The professor asked, looking around the room to spot several piles of broken glass scattered across the floor, including one small clump on his desk. As she took a closer look she spotted small beads of blood clinging onto the tiny shards. Snape turned to face the woman, a contorted look of discomfort and anger evident on his features.

"Please leave me alone, Miss Dumbledore. I do not have the energy to deal with you today as well as Professor Karkaroff."

"You're hurt." Aria gasped, paying no attention to whatever the man had just said.

"I'm fine. Please, just go." He sighed, taking a seat behind his desk. Again, Aria paid no attention to the professor's wishes, instead she took the seat across from his, carefully disposing of the cluster of smashed glass.

"Let me see your hand."

"I said I'm fine." Severus grumbled once more.

"Give me your hand, Severus." Aria commanded, extending out her own for him to rest his on. A few moments and one skeptical glare later Severus gave in against his better judgment, presenting his bloody wound to the woman, with a roll of his eyes.

Another gasp escaped her lips as he rested his hand against her own, the deep gash more visible to her now than ever. Her delicate fingertips traced the skin of his palm, careful not to go too near to where his hand had been sliced open. Severus felt a serious of tingles dance up us spine while the women did this, the pace of his heart picking up slightly.

"How did this happen? Did Igor-?" She wondered letting her sentence trail away.

"No, not at all." Snape shook his head. "It was my own stupidity." He admitted. "I was taken away with my anger then I smashed a glass jar under my hand in a fit of rage. I hadn't quite thought of the consequences of my own strength.

"There's glass buried deep in there. We have to get it out." Aria gently lowered her mentors hand to the desk, jumping up from her seat and scurrying around the room, picking up countless jars of ingredients and vials containing potions. "Don't you have anything to clean the wound?" She questioned desperately, working herself up into a panic.

"Third shelf from the top, seventh bottle from the right. You'll find a vial of clear liquid." Severus couldn't help but let his eyes follow the witch as she followed his directions to the store cupboard. The way she panicked over a less than fatal wound was endearing to him. He knew although he had sliced through the skin, it was easily fixable and there was no need for the haste she had quickly adopted. Yet enjoyed the thought that she cared for his wellbeing.

"Got it." She announced, brandishing the bottle proudly. Rushing back to her seat, she pulled a cloth from an old set of drawers and dowsed the material in the liquid. "What even if this anyway? some anti-bleeding potion or something."

"Alcohol." He replied simply, a ghost of a smile threatening to appear on his face as he caught the reaction of his colleague.

Aria let out a burst of nervous laughter she couldn't hold back.

"Well then, I guess you better prepare yourself, because this shit is going to sting like a motherfucker." She warned, extracting the glass from the wound and pressing the damp cloth into the gushing gash. Severus winced in pain, but tried his hardest not to let it show.

"Hold it there for a minute or two then the wound should be thoroughly sanitised and will able to be bandaged up." Aria gave him a nod of understanding, her gentle hands clasping around his rough calloused one. The two shared a moment of intense eye contact, neither of them daring to speak a word.  When it became clear to the both of them that they could no longer keep it up Aria broke contact, reaching for the long roll of bandages, a small blush rising to her cheeks.

"What was he doing here?" Aria dared to enquire.

"That's none of your concern." Snape replied simply, his tone turning sour once again.

The room went silent for a minute or two before Snape chose to break the ice.

"Now that I have you here, care to explain your little display of affection with the Weasley twins the other day." Snape spoke, his gaze flickering between the woman's face and her delicate hands which wound the bandage carefully around his palm and wrist.

"Oh, I thought you knew!" Aria responded, caught off guard by his sudden interest. "Before I came to Hogwarts I lived with the Weasley's at the borrow for a good few months. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were friends with my mother, they really helped me settle in before coming here. The twins and I got to know each other quite well, we had become good friends over the summer."

"Mmmmm." Severus hummed. "I am quite sure I know why they wanted to get know you so well. Hormonal teenage boys can only have one motivation."

Aria scoffed shaking her head at what the man was insinuating.

"Oh come off it Severus, we were friends, nothing more. Besides, their my students now, I plan on keeping a profession relationship between us, just as my grandfather asked." She smiled, tying a small knot in Snape's bandage to finish the job.

"There good as new." She smirked, her thumb mindless stroking the skin of his wrist.

"Perfect." Snape retorted.

Both Aria and Severus stood to attention, almost simultaneously. The space between them slowly closing in on itself as they felt themselves being drawn towards each other. Deep and low breaths were the only sound filling the room as the two stood almost chest to chest, tension building between then by the second.

Shaking themselves back to reality, Aria took a few steps away from Severus and towards the door, feeling she had fulfilled her stay and did not want to risk overstaying her welcome.

"Surely there would have been an easier way to fix this? Don't you have a potion or something to heal it instantly." Aria wondered aloud, hand clasped tightly around the old iron door handle, only just now coming fully back to reality.

"I might do." He shrugged.

"The why did I waste both our times sitting here bandaging you up?" She cried, though she wasn't nearly as mad as she let on.

"You amused me with your panicked nature, I wanted to see how well you worked under pressure. None-the-less this would will heal just as well without the use of magic and I will be once again back to normal."

"God help us all." Aria laughed, pleased to see Severus had not taken her comment to heart. And with that she was gone.

Taglist:  @ayamenimthiriel @lizlil​

[fluorescentmythicalbeastie-blog]

Fantastic Eggs and Where to Find Them - Chapter 5 - Hello, NY

*Back for more! Thanks to my loyal readers who have followed Newt and Tina on their adventure to find Smidgens’ eggs. I suggest you reading the previous chapters if you haven’t already, for this startup hinges on it. Enjoy!*

“Barely anything.” Tina admitted, warily getting to her feet. Newt poured a cup of tea and slid it across the table, encouraging her with a brief glance. Tina took a thoughtful sip of the steaming brew. Newt had just returned from his forest excursion and, after discovering Smidgens' eggs, was very concerned for the safety of the others.

“They followed Smidgens for two weeks before capturing her. Did you see them while you were watching her?” Tina inquired. “They knew where she was for two weeks? They waited that long?” Newt ignored Tina’s question by presenting two of his own, confusion crimping his face.  He didn’t wait for an answer. He set down Smidgens’ papers and covered the wooden surface with the stained sheets, scanning each one individually. Tina came to his side of the table, equaling his concentration and taking particular interest in his sketches. He thought he heard a muttering of “You’re a great artist…” but he couldn’t be sure.

“There were four eggs in total, Tina.” he muttered, tracing his finger across the trail map of Smidgens’ flight patterns. “You think someone stole them?” she queried. Newt didn’t feel the need to answer. Instead, he straightened and began pacing the length of the room, mumbling to himself. He spun around to face Tina.

“Why would they follow her for two weeks without capturing her? During those two weeks—” Newt presented a small sheet of paper from his pocket “—she had three accidents. One involved a muggle—No-Maj—, the second set a department store on fire and the third…” Newt’s voice trailed away. It was difficult to talk about Smidgens in a way that might make her disrespected. The third incident resulted in death of a young witch. After the first accident, why hadn’t they attempted to capture her to avoid more destruction?—Not to mention the great amount of Oblivation that had to be done.

“What do you know about Igor Orgnuk?” asked Newt, gaging Tina’s reaction as he spoke the name of the overseer of Smidgens’ capture. She sucked in a breath and spoke from memory. “He’s been on MACUSA’s list for years. After so many trials, we aren’t allowed to open an investigation until we receive a complaint or find evidence of foul play.” Newt rapped his knuckles against the table for a moment, considering this. “I suppose I could submit a complaint.” he said. Tina shook her head and dropped her soulful brown gaze to her feet. “Do you think Picquery will take anything you say seriously? She’ll think it’s about revenge.” said Tina truthfully. Newt turned away from her and sighed heavily. He felt as if heavy sandbags were roped to his shoulders, dragging him closer into the pit of despair. He felt useless to Smidgens and her eggs. He was sick of being targeted by authoritative figures.

“Newt?” Tina’s voice cut through Newt’s depressing thoughts. He turned to her, expecting to see a look of pity or remorse. Instead, her eyes were beaming brightly and she was standing at attention. “We should head back to New York. I’ll find out more about Orgnuk and you can take care of the egg.” Tina was desperately trying to keep Newt clinging to hope. Newt drummed his fingers on the nearest surface while contemplating this suggestion. It made sense. There was nothing more to do in the forest. “How are you feeling?” Newt inquired. Tina waved her hand dismissively. “Dizzy spells here and there, but I’ll be fine.” assured Tina.

         Newt agreed to the plan and departed the workshop to do a last minute check on his creatures. Tina also wanted to change into the only extra set of clothes she had brought. Newt knew that this, the plan of heading back to New York, was all for the best, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Tina was trying to shake him off like dust from her shoes. Had she come to a decision about Newt? For once, Newt was on the verge of asking Tina outright. No, he’d wait.

           Newt allowed Tina longer time to rest, claiming she needed to keep an eye on the egg. He disembarked from the briefcase and clasped it shut, trekking through the dark forest alone. It was almost sunup when he began the daylong journey to the nearest road. He hummed little tunes, thought of not-very-funny jokes and soaked in the dawn beauty of nature. While doing all these things, he was wishing that Tina was alongside him. When he caught himself thinking these things, he would perform simple spells to keep himself busy. It wasn’t until noontime that Newt allowed Tina to accompany him. He was attempting to be very cautious with her health. He had never had to take care of an ill person before and he wasn’t sure how to go about it. Luckily, Tina seemed to be on the up and up.

“You know,” began Tina, stopping Newt in his tracks. He turned around, swinging his briefcase in front him. When he caught sight of Tina, he was painfully reminded just how beautiful she was. She stood in a swath of sunshine, glowing against the dim timberland background. An abashed smile spread across Newt’s face, giving him a very dopey appearance. “This really is gorgeous land.” said Tina, affectionately patting the tree she leaned against. Newt made a noncommittal grunt and continued walking. He was having trouble focusing on much of anything. One minute he was feeling helpless and full of despair, hoping to continue onward and find out a way to find the other eggs, but the next he was unable to make a plan to save his life—err, to save the life of Smidgens’ eggs. His mother had once described such a feeling to him; he was unwilling to acknowledge the truth behind her statement.

“Have you been to the jungle before?” asked Tina, trailing closely behind Newt. “Of course! How else am I supposed to find an Acromantula?” Newt replied, casting a lopsided grin back at Tina. “Look in the book.” he added upon her inquisitive stare. To his great disbelief, Tina immediately removed his book from her pocket. He hadn’t known she was going to keep it on her person…“An Acromantula is a species of giant spider…”

         The day withered away before Newt’s eyes. He had to admit, despite the ominous overhang of emotions, he had enjoyed his extended trip with Tina. They Disapparated to the MACUSA Headquarters front steps. The large, stone building came into focus after a sickening trip. Newt wasn’t as quick to relinquish Tina’s hand as he usually was, worried she might collapse. Despite looking slightly queasy, she appeared to be alright. “I’ll find out as much as I can about Igor.” Tina promised, her eyes anxiously flitting across everyone passing by the building.

“Thank you.” Newt said softly. It was an odd thing to say during the middle of their continuous plight, but he still needed to say it. After all, Tina had showed him a whole new possible side to his adventures. She gave him comradeship and lent him her energy and time—that was very important to him.

“Mrs. Esposito will still be awake, so go up the fire escape.” said Tina in a hushed tone. Newt cocked his head to one side, confused. Tina rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You can stay with Queenie. She’ll feed you properly.” Tina whispered. Newt was about to protest, seeing as he’d spend the entire night in his briefcase anyway, but Tina was already bounding up the steps. She slowed her stride to a professional looking speed walk, nodding to a wizard who departed the MACUSA building as she entered. Newt watched her disappear through the windowed doors before rousing himself into action. He checked for any Muggles on the streets before Disapparating to the front of Tina and Queenie’s apartment building.

         Once his Apparation was complete, Newt realized just how high up Tina and Queenie’s apartment was. The fire escape looked in need of replacement and was sopping wet from the continuous spring rain that dripped over New York. Newt doubted he could stealthily climb the rickety structure, but he was willing to give it a chance. He quietly scampered across the street, acting as any other pedestrian would. At the last available step, he darted into the empty alleyway, directly beside the slippery ladder of metal.

         It was quite the task to quietly ascend the steep steps, occasionally having to climb a ladder and throw his suitcase above his head. At last, Newt reached a dimly lit window that he believed to be the bedroom of Queenie and Tina. He stooped low beside it, peering between the streaks of rainwater. He could make out the edges of two beds on either side of the room. One was neatly organized and freshly made while the other was a mess of dresses and blankets. Newt allowed himself a brief smile before quickly rapping his knuckles against the pane. In less than a few seconds, a bright face appeared at the window. However, it was not the bouncing golden curls that Newt expected, but a round mustached face—Jacob!

         The window slid open and two pudgy hands gripped Newt firmly by the shoulders, practically yanking him into the room. Newt was alarmed by the hostility in the digging fingers. He remained silent as his long body, muddy and quite smelly, reconfigured itself in the bedroom. Jacob, still short and indignant, stood before Newt with a grimace on his face. “What do you think you’re doing, mister?” the voice was meant to be a threatening growl, but it stopped short and disintegrated into surprise. Jacob’s eyes were fixed on Newt’s, remembrance stirring.

“Hello, Jacob.” Newt said awkwardly, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to know who Jacob was. This made Jacob drop his hands from Newt’s arms and take a nervous step back. Newt wasn’t quite sure what to do. He didn’t know what Jacob recalled from their adventure together and he wasn’t certain that Jacob was allowed to be with Queenie alone. Nevertheless, he felt a stirring of sheer joy at the sight of Jacob’s curly hair and corpulent appearance. Thankfully, Queenie appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.

“Mr. Scamander!” she exclaimed gleefully. She clapped her hands together before taking excited little steps towards him. “Come in! You’re soaked! Long journey, I suppose. Is my sister with you?” the remarks and questions barreled into Newt like a train. He had already become accustomed to him and Tina’s simple conversations. “Ah, no, she went straight to her office to do some research.” Newt answered as he was dragged into the living area. Jacob followed closely behind him. “This Igor ‘fella doesn’t sound too savory.” said Queenie, painfully reminding Newt that she could read his thoughts. Before being forced into the nearest chair, Queenie grabbed Newt’s jacket and tossed it into the air. It glided gracefully to the fireplace, remaining stationary to dry. Newt hugged his arms around himself, feeling oddly bare. Queenie whisked away into the kitchen, leaving Jacob standing close by Newt’s seat.

“Jacob Kowalski—have we met before?” asked Jacob, holding out his hand for Newt to shake. Newt pretended not to see, choosing instead to fiddle with the golden clasp of his briefcase. “Might have.” he replied, unsure of what would be crossing the line. Clearly unsatisfied, Jacob took a seat in an armchair and began scratching the back of his neck. Newt stifled a chuckle at his friend’s rousing of memory.

         The Goldstein’s apartment was just as Newt remembered it. The crackling fireplace cast a cozy glow across the room. The furniture was slightly shabby, yet still inviting in the warmth of the room. Newt expected to look up and see Tina and Queenie beside each other, maneuvering a dinner into existence. However, it was just Queenie, clad in an elegant pink dress. Newt sighed, realizing that Queenie wouldn’t release him before had dinner. Truth be told, he was feeling the effects of longstanding hunger, but he tried to keep those thoughts away.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap

Newt and Jacob both heard it. It was a small rattling noise beside Newt’s sofa. Newt inched away from the edge and anxiously peered at the armchair table. He had noticed the table when he arrived at the apartment two days earlier. It was laden with picture frames, each one containing the smiling face of either Tina or Queenie. Some of them had tall figures standing over the little girls, presumably their parents, and a few contained scenic overlooks in the background. One frame, however, caught Newt’s eye.

CRASH

Half the picture frames toppled over. Metal crashed against the wooden table and a few toppled to the floor, causing Newt to spring backwards. The noise was sure to bring the landlady storming up the stairs and Jacob seemed to know it, too. He was on his feet, shuffling towards the coat closet with a fearful expression his face. Queenie was suddenly at Newt’s side, looking as livid as Queenie could get.

“Mercy Louis!” cried Queenie. The shaking of the apartment had ceased, allowing the sound of loud footsteps to echo throughout the building. Mrs. Esposito was on her way.

*Feedback is appreciated!*

[roguenewsdao]

Damn British Lies Stand Exposed More and More

Over the last 24 hours, new accounts are out from multiple firsthand sources in Douma, posted in video and print, which all report, that they saw no evidence of use of poison gas in the April 7 imputed chemical weapons episode. The disparate accounts conform to show a scenario in which, in the midst of a shelling attack, people sheltering in an underground chamber were stricken by dust, smoke, and debris. Some died right there; others were able to flee. Some got to the hospital, where medics began treatment for respiratory and other forms of distress. Suddenly, cameramen arrived, and a shout of "gas attack" went up. Certain people started hosing children and others, all of which was caught on video. The film team then departed, and the medics continued to treat people. Accounts have come from Douma from Pearson Sharp (One America News, April 16,) from CGTN, and others.

For example, Robert Fisk, writing in Britain's daily Independent (April 16), interviewed Dr. Assim Rahaibani, a senior Syrian physician, who spoke of the night in question. "There was a lot of shelling [by government forces] and aircraft were always over Douma at night—but on this night, there was wind, and huge dust clouds began to come into the basements and cellars where people lived. People began to arrive here suffering from hypoxia, oxygen loss. Then someone at the door, a 'White Helmet,' shouted, 'Gas!' and a panic began. People began throwing water over each other. Yes the video was filmed here; it is genuine, but what you see are people suffering from hypoxia—not gas poisoning."

At The Hague yesterday, information on all this, including the White Helmets' role and history, was distributed at the OPCW meeting to all the participants, by Russian Ambassador Alexander Shulgin. He said afterward, "We handed out materials demonstrating that what happened in Douma on April was well orchestrated. The Russian Defense Ministry made a very important statement. Facts were presented to show how the White Helmets, this pseudo-humanitarian, non-government organization, works off the money they receive from Western sponsors, first of all, from the United States and Great Britain, to stage various sorts of provocations." For their part, the British envoy, and the U.S. Ambassador to the OPCW Kenneth Ward, charged up their new Big Lie, that the Russians may be tampering with the evidence onsite in Douma.

However, the bigger the lies, the more exposed. Not only the Russian, but Chinese sources are naming names. China English-language TV broadcaster CGTN put out a special exposing the White Helmets, by their prominent host, Yang Rui. In his "Rui Thinking" program today, he states that the White Helmets are known to practice medical aid by day, and by night, carry out terrorist attacks. He says that to believe what the White Helmets say, puts you in the land of "post-truth."

Helga Zepp-LaRouche today observed that we are in a situation where the lies can completely backfire. If the role of Britain is exposed—and the Russians and Chinese are now focussing on it, then it all can backfire. She drew out the point, "Spooks like to operate in the dark. But the limelight is now on the spooks!"

Instead of the lies, attacks and destruction, what is required among nations—acting in the realm of light and truth, is for actions which serve the mutual benefit of all. This potential is being furthered this week between China and Japan, as Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi has important meetings in Tokyo. Today in Florida, President Donald Trump hosts Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe. It is high time for Trump to meet with President Vladimir Putin.

Helga Zepp-LaRouche's call for this was carried April 13 by Russian Satellite News Agency, out of Moscow, and is also picked up in China. Quoting Zepp-LaRouche from an earlier interview, the Agency dispatch reports, "'As Trump said on Twitter, the deterioration of U.S.-Russian relations is largely the result of actions within the U.S. against him. Special investigations by Mueller and various committees of the country over the past year, have found no findings of "Russia traces."' LaRouche concluded, 'The sooner Trump meets with Putin, the more opportunity they have to stop the provocation.'"

U.S. Missiles Were Shot Down in Syria, Despite Trump’s Claim [That 100% Reached Their Targets]

April 17, 2018 (EIRNS)—In Hialeah, Florida, President Donald Trump repeated what his military advisors had told him since April 14: that all of the missiles fired overnight by U.S., U.K. and French forces hit their targets in Syria. He went so far as to claim that Syrian and Russian air defenses “didn’t work too well.”

The Russians, however, continue to tell a completely different story than what the Pentagon presented. Russian Defense Ministry spokesman Maj. Gen. Igor Konashenkov said in a briefing yesterday that the damage at the Barzeh science facility outside Damascus did not correspond with the 30 cruise missiles that the U.S. claimed were launched at it. “Moreover, the survey of the territory of this and other objects did not reveal either a large number of debris and fragmentations of ammunition, or a corresponding number of impact craters,” he said. Konashenkov went on to say that the actual U.S.-U.K.-French targets include five airfields, Shayrat among them, none of which were hit, because the attacks were successfully repelled by Syrian air defenses.

Konashenkov listed the Russian anti-aircraft systems employed by the Syrians to repel the attack, including, for the first time, the truck-mounted Pantsir S1 short range anti-aircraft/anti-missile system. The Syrians have 40 Pantsir S1 systems which fired 25 missiles and hit 24 targets. “It is to be stressed that Syrian air defense system was organized on the principle of object defense,” Konashenkov said. “Almost all objects protected by air defense systems repelled the strike.”

U.S. Charges Russia Tampered with Alleged Syria Chemical Attack Site

April 17, 2018 (EIRNS)—Yesterday’s meeting of the executive council of the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons was the scene of accusations and countercharges, as the U.S. and the U.K. accused Russia of blocking access to the site in Douma, Syria of the April 7 alleged chemical weapons attack. Even worse, the U.S. Ambassador to the OPCW Kenneth Ward claimed that the Russians may have tampered with the site of the alleged April 7 chemical attack “with the intent of thwarting the efforts of the OPCW fact-finding mission to conduct an effective investigation,” Ward said, the Wall Street Journal reported. The same powers that were accusing Russia of blocking OPCW access to the site of an alleged chemical attack were more than happy, in late 2017 to accept the report of a joint UN-OPCW investigation blaming the Syrian government for the Khan Sheikhoun attack, though the investigators declined to visit the attack site!

Ambassador Alexander Shulgin, Russia’s representative to the OPCW, told the council that the U.S. is worried that the inspectors might not find any evidence of an attack, and thus are worried about what happens next. “The U.S. ambassador said that Russian experts had visited the site of the presumable chemical attack and cleaned up something there to help the Syrians cover up the tracks,” Shulgin said. “We consider that as a clumsy attempt to cushion the blow in case it turns out that they have lied about what had actually happened. “Our American partners look to be nervous, in frenzied effort to find anything that could justify their steps in case their allegations about the use of chemical weapons in Syria prove to be false,” Shulgin stressed. “They are probably afraid that experts on the ground may refute their false theory that was used as a pretext for a strike on helpless Syria.”