#and since she's very into the wizard boy (sadly) and i still have way too much information about it in my brain (even sadder)

[ishikawayukis]

my oldest niece and i have a very funny relationship because she loves telling me the wrong information about things i know a lot about and because i'm an asshole i can't help but correct her every single time and she always looks at me like 👁👄👁

[misguidedasgardian]

The Lifeaters (I.6)

VI. Christmas with the Malfoys

MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: You winter holidays couldn’t be better, well… maybe they could, but still they were pretty good

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Cursing, magical objects, Mugglephobia, might miss some warnings, you got to know, this is placed in a very “high class” wizard society so we will deal with classist comments and other things. 

Wordcount: 3,1 k

Notes: Maybe i can make the ten chapters, no promises though hehe

You wasted no time in redecorating your room with everything that you could find that was of an emerald green color, like the canopy in your bed, you were so happy, and your aunt seemed so proud

You admired a photo that you had atop your dresser, of her with your mother, both in their slytherin uniforms outside the gates at Hogwarts, you looked just like her, according to anyone who had met her.

Your father had also been in Slytherin, but you had no picture of him that you know of.

Soon it was Christmass eve, the 24th, and you were excited for the presents, but also, for the rest of the traditions, you had been at it since the 21st, the log had been burning in your chimney, beautiful arrangements of mistletoe, pine, ivy and others were hanging from the chandeliers and over the doors, to bring  fortune in the year to come

It was a pagan celebration

You wore a crown made from the same plants, as did your aunt, as you had a wonderful dinner on Christmas Eve

“It arrived a huge cradle with gifts from France”, she said with a wide smile as she wiped her mouth with a silk handkerchief

“Are we going in the Summer?”, you asked

“If you’d like to”

“I would”, you answered quickly 

“Great, because I need to test the creams I have been making in the lab”

“The ones that help with the recovery of the skin after catching Dragonpox?”, you asked softly

“Yes, exactly”, she answered with a smile. You admired your aunt, she was so talented and smart, and breathtakingly beautiful

Normally, you would be at the Malfoys for the 24th, but your aunt insisted to spend it just the two of you, maybe you preferred this way too

“So… is there anyone you like in your class?”, she asked with a giggle

“Well… not really”, you whispered sadly

“Oh no… I know that look”, she teased gently

“There is this boy that is cute, but he is a bit… of an idiot”, she snorted out a laugh, “and there’s this other one, who is also cute but… he is… very mean”

“Well, let’s just start by the idiot”

“I say he is an idiot because when they asked him why he was studying with me so much he blamed it on me, and said that it was probably because I fancied him, and it was because he didn’t undersnt it”, you told him upset

“No he didn’t!”, she screeched

“Yes he did! can you believe that? he is not THAT cute, besides… I don’t think he is an idiot because he doesn’t understand potions… but because of how he lied!”

“How is he like?”, she asked back

“Well, he had like.. dark, very dark blonde hair, with big green eyes that are shaped in a way that looks a bit sad”, you told her

“He sounds like a cutie”, she encouraged, “what’s his name?”

“Theodore Nott”, you answered

“Oh yeah, that rings a bell”, she whispered, with concern, “what about the other?”

“Matthew Gaunt”, you answered, and again she frowned, “he is very handsome but.. he is kind of mean…he has like chocolate brown curls, and big brown eyes and… thick eyelashes that flutters when he does something mischieving”

“Mischieving?”, she asked, entertained

“He put a exploding potion underneath the desk of Mr Filch, and his cat’s tail caught fire”

“Can’t believe that old mop is still alive!”

“Hey, she is a pretty cat!”, you defended

“I was referring to Mr Filch”, she laughed back 

“Yeah, I guess he always looks like he is going to have a fit or something”, you murmured 

“So… what about Matthew then?”, her sparkle in her eyes had dwindled 

“I don’t know he… is strange”

“How strange?”, she pressed

“We were carving pumpkins and bringing them to life, but he… brought him to life and then started carving”, you whispered the last part

“Oh Merlin”, she whispered

“And he is mean… to others, and bothers the ones that do well in class, like, if you study or anything…”

“Well, love you don’t have to be friends with everybody…”, she said with a simple smile, “and that is perfectly alright”

“I know but he is in Slytherin, and in all my classes, and hangs out with Draco and the others”

“Well, that’s the thing about first semester, some groups form, then they mutate, more people come in, a few may drop, and it will happen through the years”, she said caressing your arm over the table, “it happens, don’t be sad, you’ll have plenty of friends, but don’t ever doubt about protecting them, right?”

“Right”, you said surely

“Follow your heart”, she encouraged, “we might not be Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs, but Slytherins are fiercely loyal to their own”

“You are right!”, you giggled 

“besides, you can still meet nice people from other houses”

“They always treat us poorly because we are in Slytherin”, you said with a frown

“That can’t be true!”

“Sometimes it is, besides, Harry Potter…”

“Harry Potter is in your year? so it was true!”, she said with a honest surprise

“Yeah he is, everything is about him! is so annoying”

“How is he doing? in his classes and all?”

“He is playing as a Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team”

“Really?”

“Yeah and it's so annoying, Professor Mcgonaggal even gifted him a Nimbus 2000! Can you believe that? Is that even fair?”

“A professor got him a professional racing broom?, you are right that does seem sketchy, but cut him some slack he… doesn’t have any parents, he is alone…”

“Neither do I!”, you answered

“He was raised by muggles! far from magic, until he got his letter he probably didn’t know ANYTHING!”, she defended, she made you feel a bit guilty

“Yeah, you are right, but he is still annoying”, she laughed, “Draco hates him very much”

“Do you hate him very much?”, she asked then

“No, you told me to never hate anyone”

“Well it's true”, she answered back with a soft smile, “don’t ever forget that”, she muttered, you shook your head

“Can we open presents?”, you asked then

“Tomorrow morning”

“Aw!”

“Yes”, she insisted with a soft smile, “it’s tradition”

So the very next morning, your aunt and you were sitting on the livingroom floor, with matching pajamas, going through the big box of presents, so far you had gotten the set of this season body creams and lotions, a silk pajama, and a silver jewelry set, of earrings, a necklace and a bracelet, from a famous parisian jeweler 

The funny part is that your aunt has gotten the same things but in her size and tastes.

“Alright, this one’s from me”, she said, giving you a heavy looking package, it wasn’t big enough to fit a broom, and you were getting discouraged 

“And this one from me”, you answered sweetly, giving her back a smaller package

You opened the big box and you laughed wholeheartedly when you saw it, the entire official gear of the best French Quidditch team, the Quiberon Quafflepunchers. It was world renowned because the robe was hot pink, with small details in black and white

“I know you said Holyhead Harpies, but…”

“This is so much better!”, you laughed

“Remember when we went to that game when you were little?”

“With the french ministry of magic, how could I forget?”, you said fondly. It was one of the first and fondest memories you ever had. The best game they have ever played

“I had it autographed”, she said, grabbing the robe and sure enough, on the inside with gold letters were the signatures of the current team. “And it will grow with you, as will adapt to your size”, she said excitedly

“This is so much better”, you said sincerely

“Well, it had to be French instead, you know? our family in France are going to think that I’m educating you poorly”, she laughed

“You are not!”, you giggled, “your turn!”, you said excitedly, and she opened hers

She opened her present, it wasn’t much but you had make it yourself, it was a scrapbook filled with pictures of the two of you

“I love it”, she said with a wide smile, she looked at you and sighed, “I know you were expecting something else”

“No I’m not”, you said quickly

“First years are not allowed a broom and they are dangerous, alright? next year when you make the team…”

“If i make the team”, you corrected

“When you make the team”, she corrected back, “I’ll think about it, alright?”, she insisted, you nodded, “and a dragon… well… apparently, you need a special dispensation, ministry-issued to have one, even if it is small, apparently, just as easy as you can make them small, you can make them big again”, you laughed

“It’s fine, and I don’t think Umbra would appreciate a little sibling that could set her feathers on fire”

“That’s my girl”, she whispered, “how about we put this spa supplies for good use? we have a nice calm girl’s day until the ball?”

“I thought we were invited to spend the day”, you murmured

“We were, but they will have other friends over”, that was odd, it was, but you didn’t say anything as you smiled at her and nodded enthusiastically

So all day you spend it in your pajamas, eating delicious food, reading Yule stories, and doing a spa day. 

The night came pretty quickly actually, and even though it was more of an adult party, you were excited to see your best friend, and the rest of your friends. 

“You look so beautiful, my sweet little girl”, your aunt was dressed with crimson red silk robes, and you in turn, she had dressed you in all an shimmering white glitter dress, you didn’t like it, you felt like you couldn’t eat with this on, but she looked so happy to see you dressed like this you didn't say anything. She even put a big glittery bow in your head the same color

The chimney had been clean to perfection, but that was not going to be the method of transportation for the evening, she grabbed your hand and walked you out of the house, and even further, out of the guards around them, and then, you apparated.

You didn’t like it, you always felt like you were some sort of gum someone just grabbed and stretch, but soon, it was over, and you apparate in a hill, just feet away from the guards of the Malfoy manor, it only took a couple of steps, and then the huge mansion was right there in front of you, hidden from muggles and people who were ignorant to its location

It was roaring with life, you could tell, every single room in that house was lit up, and you could hear the music from even outside the grounds

You walked towards the entrance, your feet making a sound you liked over the grabble. 

Once you were received by a house-elf, the entire atmosphere changed, the loud music, and delicious smell hit you hard as soon as you crossed the threshold 

Something was off, you could tell because when Narcissa saw you both, she actually had a look of relief on her face. Hugging your aunt tightly and then her eyes thrifted to you, and lit up when she saw you

“You look so beautiful”, she said with a long sigh, kissing the top of your head

“We brought you something”, your aunt said, delivering a huge basket with your family’s products, “Happy Yule”

“Happy Yule”, she said back, promising your gifts for when you go back home so you didn’t have to have them on hand all night. Draco came rushing as soon as she saw you 

“Happy Yule!”, he said quickly, hugging you

“Happy Yule Draco”, and you offered him your gift you had bought for him

“Thank you, let’s go play”, he said, grabbing your hand and leading you away almost running 

“Everyone is here!”, he said, “the Notts, the Parkinsons, the Bullstrodes”, all pure bloods you thought, “You look like a snowflake”

“oh wow, thanks”, you said sarcastically, “you look like your hair had been licked backwards by a grindylow”, you answered defensively, he frowned back at you

“Hey at least mine was a compliment”, well snowflakes were beautiful

“Sorry, I’m a bit uncomfortable”, the beads on your dress tickled your belly and under your arms. “you don’t look like you were licked by a grindylow”, he looked like always, his hair meticulously combed backwards. “You look nice”, he was dressed in classical robes, with a white shirt

“Did you get the Nimbus 2000?”, you asked Draco, drastically changing subjects before your reached the others in the other room, he barely shook his head

“No”, that truly did surprised you, “He said that until I was in the Quidditch team I could get it”

“My aunt said something similar”, you muttered, that next year maybe

“I got like a thousand new robes though”, he said with a look in his eyes that told you he didn’t want you to tell anyone, “what did you get?”

“Just some jewelry, a pajama, and the best present ever”, you giggled

“Did you get your dragon?”, he asked, truly interested

“No, but I got the riding gear of the Quiberon Quafflepunchers”

“What, really?”, he asked

“Yes! It's still pink! gorgeous!”

“That’s awesome”, he admired, “but I thought you wanted the one of the Holyhead Harpies”

“The Holyhead Harpies had a terrible season and they are not France’s champions for ten years straight”, you mocked back, and he laughed

“Good point”

“And their uniform is pink!”, you insisted

In the other room, next to the Ballroom, there was another receiving room, which was nice as well, but today is where you all were hanging out in

Gregory and Goyle were standing next to the table with the snacks, and in the center, sitting around in the armchairs and sofas were the others of Slytherin, Matthew, Theodore, Pansy, Milicent, Daphne, almost everyone, Blaise was missing, he was nice.

“Basilik!”, called Matthew, a smile on his face and a non-alcoholic butterbeer in his hand

“Happy Yule!”, you greeted, Vince smiled warmly at you, and he offered you from his plate a chocolate muffin

“Thank you!”, you said kindly, and he smiled warmly at you

“Happy Yule”, they were all looking their best for the occasion, even MIlicent that was wearing a beautiful silvery “muggle dress” according to her

Don’t tell anyone, but you didn’t see the difference

Perhaps between older people’s clothes, they wore robes, and muggle wore separate pieces of clothing, but, in children? not so much for what you had seen, at least not in dresses

“You all look beautiful”, Matthew had a scowl on his face at this, his robes didn’t fit him well, you believed they were Draco’s, and he was smaller than Matt

Of all the people that were here, Draco never mentioned the Gaunt family, where they here? if Matthew was spending christmas with the malfoys maybe they were on vacation like Blaise’s mother

People started leaving, but a couple stayed, since the Manor was huge, it had many rooms, your aunt, living so close, wanted you both to leave, but Narcissa grabbed onto her arm and looked her into her eyes to ask her to let you stay at your request, so she agreed, she summoned with her wand your new pajama set, kissed your forehead goodbye, and promised to be back tomorrow for brunch like it was custom

Greg and Vince stayed, so they took Matthew to their room, Draco and you, on the other hand, sneaked to his room, to exchange your presents

He got you a beautiful jewelry box

“My mom chose the present”, he said carefully, you opened to reveal a beautiful song, and a small mermaid inside, brushing her hair and singing, the entire interior of the box was dark blue velvet, and the rest seemed to be some sort of a precious black stone, “but I chose the color and the type, see? I knew you’d like it”

“I love it!”, you said with a wide smile. He opened his own present, it was a pair of riding gloves, made with dragon skin, they were supposed to be the best ones for seekers, and you had them monogrammed with his initials in each thumb.

“I love them!”, he said smiling back, “the best ones in the market, the ones Roderick Pumpton uses!”, he admired

“You’ll need them to be seeker next year, there are the ones that grow with you, and regenerate when they break”

“Thank you”, he said sincerely

The door opened suddenly and the boys entered

“Are we interrupting?”, Matthew teased, “Are you kissing?”, you and Draco both reacted with your best disgusted faces

“No we are not kissing!”, he answered quickly

“Who wants to hear some scary stories?”, asked Greg, and you were not convinced, but you didn’t want to be considered a coward, so you accepted 

You shouldn’t have

You couldn’t sleep even if you left the door open letting all the light from the hallway into the room, fearing the headless troll was going to come inside your room at any moment, impossibly sneaking into the Manor looking for little children to decapitate. So you sneaked into Draco’s room and hugged him tightly 

The very next day your aunt came back for brunch as promised, and you were relieved to see her, but no time, in the daytime you couldn’t see headless trolls decapitating children, so you and Draco, with Gregory, Vince and Matt, used your new Quidditch gear to go play in the huge ground behind the Manor, where Uncle Lucius had installed the hoops for you both to practice. 

So your aunt summoned for you your new gear and your Quicksilver 2.0

You looked like a firework, with your hot pink robe flying around trying to score, you were playing all against Vince, who had to stay in the gate as a keeper

You had no snitches so Draco couldn’t quite practice his coveted position, but he was a fair good chaser, Matthew was too determined to hit you with a bludger but you managed to dodge them all

It was a fun Winter break 

[lizardsfromspace]

I've referenced things sounding like "boomer poems" several times but I don't think that's as universal a reference as I think, but once upon a time the dominant mode of expression for boomers online were interminable nostalgia poems and not memes where the Minions express fascist leanings. I found a lot of these on the old Snopes Glurge boards but sadly those are gone & a lot of these gone with it

Let's take a look at an exemplar of the form, preserved by this glorious Web 1.0 website (and some thoughts on the genre at the end)

Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot, Before the days of Dylan , or the dawn of Camelot. There lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me,

"Race" is a interesting choice of word here. I also like that this is very specifically 1950s nostalgia and excludes even early 60s nostalgia, even the parts of the 60s that were still the 50s culturally (aka the American Graffiti years)

For Ike was in the White House in that land where we were born, Where navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.

"Navels were for oranges" Nobody had belly buttons until that bastard LBJ

We longed for love and romance, and waited for our Prince, Eddie Fisher married Liz, and no one's seen him since.

One gender was expected to get married as soon as possible in a more limited social circle than now, a situation that never once went awry!

We longed for love and romance, and waited for our Prince, Eddie Fisher married Liz, and no one's seen him since.

Because his career was destroyed over marrying his dead friend's widow, Elizabeth Taylor (I didn't know who that was, I had to look him up)

Only girls wore earrings then, and 3 was one too many, And only boys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jean McKinney.

We strictly enforced gender standards and we had no choice but to like it!

I have no idea who Jean McKinney is. Searching for "Jean McKinney 1950s" just turns up this poem???

And only in our wildest dreams did we expect to see A boy named George with Lipstick, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Boy George is a fearful icon of gender fuckery to older people, which makes him becoming a vocal transphobe who makes pronoun jokes even more depressing. Sorry if you found out that way. Also he once kidnapped someone and handcuffed him to a radiator for two days. ...sorry if you found out that way

We fell for Frankie Avalon, Annette was oh, so nice, And when they made a movie, they never made it twice..

We didn't have a Star Trek Five, or Psycho Two and Three, Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty in the Land That Made Me, Me.

I love these lines bc for one they aren't true. 1950s cinema was rife with remakes, extremely long series, and actors who played the same character in the same plots over and over. They made seven movies about a talking mule named Francis (not to ding Francis the Talking Mule, not to ding anything starring Donald O'Connor, who firmly Rules Actually).

But also it's funny that the bankrupt, formulaic era here is the 1980s. Which is now subject to identical nostalgia only now it's people sitting in front of posters for The Fly and Friday The 13th VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan bemoaning that Hollywood used to have ideas man, not all these remakes and sequels today

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp, And Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp.

The 1950s were great bc of a Western show that mostly ran in the 60s that had a character who was all but said to be running a brothel

We had a Mr. Wizard, but not a Mr. T, And Oprah couldn't talk yet, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Oof! Oh boy! Oh yikes! Oh, oh boy! Oh boy! Oh, dear! Oh, man!

I don't think these lines mean...that, but also could've, uh, been more thoughtful about what celebs they picked to say weren't around back then

"Oprah couldn't talk yet" Because she was six, or because if she tried to have a show, she'd uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

We had our share of heroes, we never thought they'd go, At least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe. For youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be, And Elvis was forever in the Land That Made Me, Me

Bobby Darin was chronically ill his entire life, and his knowledge that he would die young from his illness was the main motivator of his entire music career, but fair on the rest. In the 1950s, some famous people died young, unlike every other decade

We'd never seen the rock band that was Grateful to be Dead, And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson, and Zeppelins were not Led.

*groan*

And Beatles lived in gardens then, and Monkeys lived in trees, Madonna was Mary in the Land That Made Me, Me.

*GROAN*

We'd never heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars, And babies might be bottle-fed, but they weren't grown in jars.

Something else that identifies this as clearly written in or about the 80s is the jab at test tube babies, part of a full fledged moral panic then. A time where people would sincerely tell parents of children conceived by IVF that their children were abominations born without souls

And pumping iron got wrinkles out, and 'gay' meant fancy-free, And dorms were never co-Ed in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Apparently the 50s were the last decade where "gay" usually meant "happy" instead of "gay", though it did also mean "gay"

Also, *groan*

We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag, And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.

Tbh I don't actually mind the reminder that, for people of the time, casual air travel was still so new, so seemingly miraculous that all the minor inconveniences wrought by it being a routine thing didn't even occur to people

But also, *groan*

And hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea, And rocket ships were fiction in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Rocket ships were a fantasy detailed every week on Walt Disney's TV show by a scientist with suspiciously few stated qualifications & a thick German accent

T-Birds came with portholes, and side shows came with freaks, And bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks.

We used to goggle at disabled people in carnivals and cover our entire ass when swimming, unlike now

And Coke came just in bottles, and skirts below the knee, And Castro came to power near the Land That Made Me, Me.

I really didn't expect one of these boomer nostalgia poems to include nostalgia for Castro's revolution. Viva la revolución, comrade

We had no Crest with Fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues, We had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea Or prime-time ads for those dysfunctions in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Not here for bemoaning toothpaste polluting our precious bodily fluids but honestly a world without boner pill commercials is tempting

There were no golden arches, no Perrier to chill, And fish were not called Wanda, and cats were not called Bill

Perrier was introduced in 1898, but I also love the specific jibes that fish weren't called Wanda back then. What a weird pop culture property to single out and what a weird way to single it out

And middle-aged was 35 and old was forty-three, And ancient were our parents in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We all ate lead paint and were forcibly sent off to die in wars and we LIKED IT!!!

If you didn't grow up in the fifties, You missed the greatest time in history,

...gender, race, and sexuality permitting!

This is a mild one but there were some much more haughty ones I should try and dig up. I thought these were hilarious when I was like 16.

I think what this exposes is how often nostalgia is nostalgia for being a child. People get lost in the weeds and think their childhood was special for when it happened, but if they're lucky and grew up in a stable situation, people tend to remember the same things about childhood regardless of when it happened. Nostalgia for a specific time becomes a problem when they assume nobody born after, or before, can have something similar, that the modern world took away everything special, but...they're still kids. Their childhood won't look like yours, but twenty, thirty years from now, they'll remember it the same way you do.

The greatest time to grow up is a irrelevant question, because the greatest time to be a kid wasn't great because of the time. It was great because you were a kid

Really can't overemphasize that a lot of these aren't so gentle and are in full "back in my day we RODE IN THE BACK OF THE PICKUP TRUCK and NONE OF US EVER DIED!!! Pansies!!!!" mode

[rush-wing]

ahem hem, soooo any OCs you have been ✨hyperfixating✨ on lately? or in general??

where do i start

It’s all d&d characters, all the way down btw. I’m a forever DM so I tend to make characters whenever the whim strikes but these guys never get played much, I just rotate them in my head sadly, waiting for the day…

I might throw you some art for visualisation but I’m still.. eh.. learning so enjoy little extremely stylised doodles

Everyone here you can find me reblogging things for over on @hearthkeep too!

First!

Is Jaisarie AKA Jaise – she was primed to be in a Saltmarsh campaign but that’s not going ahead now so she’s just sitting on the pier in my head, kicking her feet above the water idly. She’s my undead pirate : ) Jaise started unlife because I got my mitts on the Wildemount campaign guide and thought an Echo Knight’s echoes could make a fun reflavouring as something ghosty. Originally she was a Hollow One, but I’ve since altered her to the Reborn "race", but it’s all dead things at any rate~ She doesn’t know how she died, and isn’t sure she wants to know! Last thing she truly remembers is being dragged out of the ocean as bloated corpse, but the open gash on her neck and her abdomen seems to point to the idea that she was murdered by someone good at their job. Well, aside from glimpses of memories of an old crew she’s fond of, but she couldn’t pick them from a crowd if they stood right in front of her at the moment. I have some ideas for what she was involved in, but the great thing about this is I am pretty happy for any and all of that to go out the window for whatever a good game requires.

Second! Is a constant returner:

My boy Keats. He was my first PC I have made, so yess it’s trueee… he’s a bit special for me. I’ve played him the most out of anyone (which I can count on the one hand), and every time he’s just such a hoot to play. God I love him. And he’s “just” a half-elf battle master Fighter! (I will throw hands on anyone saying he’s boring for that though--) He’s an acrobat-turned-gladiator and a complete dumbass so he is big on stupid stunts, and most of the time, bounces right back up when he eats the pavement face-first. Honestly I think I just wish I had his confidence and bravado.

Third:

This is the gentlemen who I’ve been playing Thousand Year Old Vampire as - Madieren. He started out as a half-elven scholar from an isolated monastery dedicated to the study of magic, but he decided he liked blood magic and went off on a tangent. So you can call him a “vampire” of some description, but I refer to him officially as an immortal blood mage. I’ve had a lot of fun with him over the past few months, watching him evolve, go through the shit (his only student got murdered, has been kicked out of his home at least three times, oh, and had his arm accidentally cut off, just to name a few things), and eat his own hubris whole. He actually started life known as Alezaren, but due to certain shenanigans he’s shed his original name. Madieren ended his run making up with his rival who’s been chasing him down across the continent (who also ended up immortal due to the influence of one of the other player’s characters) and like there was only so much those two could stab each other before the tension went elsewhere.

And lastly:

This is Eon! He’s had a nostalgia resurgence after watching something last night and like I want to do something with him now but what??? I have an Eon-sized itch and I cannot scratch it!!!! Anyway, Eon is my sad wizard tiefling. Well, “wizard” in quotation marks because he’s technically an Eldritch Knight. Eon’s a blacksmith by trade, but dabbles in magic because there’s a quiet passion there for it that was nurtured by an eccentric mentor he hasn’t seen in a long time. So, yes, he has the tragic backstory, to the point I somewhat recently realised I gave an 8-year-old PTSD to get him so. Um. Sorry, Eon. He’s got a very stand-offish, stoic exterior, but he really is such a soft creature at heart. Eon’s my nerd. The oxymoronic buff wizard. I have a set of dice someone in my group made from scratch specifically for him so one day I need to play him so I get to actually roll them for him.

[reg-arcturus-black]

hiiiii! i hope you’re having a wonderful day, filled with sunshine & rainbows !! 💫✨ may i please request sirius x daughter! reader imagine where the reader is staying with sirius for the first time since he went to azkaban and when she goes to bed he tries to tuck her in but struggles because the last time he’d have done it, he probably would’ve read her a story but she’s presumably grown out of that by now and so he’s not really sure what to do ? 🥺🍄 oml and her room probably hasn’t been touched in like 12 years- the memories, the guilt he must feel- i’m gonna criiiii

Hi!!! That is so kind of you 💕 I hope you're doing okay in these terrible, terrible times 🌸❤

This was honestly such a beautiful plot! Thank you. And I did cry while writing it... Hope you like it, too 🤗

The Reunion (Sirius Black x Daughter Reader)

1.4k words

Fluff

Requests now open.

Masterlist

You paced nervously in the hallway, waiting for that knock on the door. Ever since you were 2, you had been living with your grandparents. Your mother was a muggleborn and was found by the vengeful deatheaters a few months after Sirius was imprisoned. Your grandparents didn’t understand a lot about the wizarding world, but they understood you. They were your best friends.

When you would ask about your mother and the bad people who took her away, they would gently sit you down and tell you all about her. They would tell you how much she loved you, the way she had cried when you were first born, how similar she was to you, how she had spent every minute fighting for your father’s innocence.

They would then tell you about your father. How much he loved your mother and you, how you had his grey eyes and the beautiful hair and his affinity for mischief. They even told you about his friends and the pranks they did in school.

Your mother had so many pictures from her school days. Pictures with your father, with her friends, with his friends. You could spend the entire day looking at them. But you could never bring yourself to. It was too difficult. Too difficult to look at the pictures of the two most important people you barely remembered.

Harry was younger than you. Once you had received the news that your father had broken out, you both had talked a lot about him. You told him Sirius was innocent but you had no proof, neither did he have any reason to believe you.

Once his fourth year and your sixth year was over, you had gotten a letter from your father. He was finally healthy enough to travel and wanted to meet you at the apartment he and your mother had shared. You had spent 2 years there as an infant before Sirius had been wrongly accused and your mother moved back in with her parents.

Your grandpa and grandma were ecstatic when they had heard the news and had instantly allowed you to spend the weekend with him. You didn’t know if you were nervous or excited. Probably both.

Your heart beat sped up when you heard a knock and ran to open the door. You were greeted by a man looking in his 30s who looked so much like you. “Dad...” you said, not being able to believe that he was finally here.

He smiled and pulled you into an awkward hug. “It is so good to see you, sweetheart.”

You grinned and let him in, closing the door behind him.

He looked around the house he had shared with your mother, all the memories rushing back. When they had first bought it, decorated it and his favourite one, when they had brought you home from the hospital.

“I - you can have a look around if you want,” you offered, not knowing what else to say. “It must have been a long time since you were last here.”

He nodded, “It is, but I am starving. You want to have dinner first?”

You gave him a small smile and went towards the dining room. “I didn’t know what you liked so I got pizza.” You said nervously. “We can get something else. I am sorry I wasn’t - ”

“Pizza is just fine,” he grinned.

The silence during dinner was very awkward. Neither of you knew what to say. Sirius’ heart was heavy with sadness and guilt. How he had missed out on all those years. Missed out on your firsts. The first time you left for Hogwarts, the first time you had cried over someone, your first detention. And guilt because it was his fault. If he wouldn’t have gone after Peter, he would be there to watch you grow up.

“Uh, how is school?” he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Nice, I like it there,”

He nodded. “I did, too. My family was the worst so Hogwarts was my home. Especially after I met your mother.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Your heart clenched at her mention and didn’t say anything else during the rest of the dinner.

“Do you wanna see the rest of the house before you sleep? I don’t think you have before.” He asked.

You shook your head and followed him upstairs. The first door he opened was the master bedroom’s, a picture of your mother and father lying on the nightstand, covered in dust. Every inch of the room and the bathroom was covered in dust.It had been so long it was a miracle the light switches worked. With a flick of his wand, he cleaned it all up and made it look as good as new.

“She was beautiful,” he sighed, looking at the photo.

You nodded and left the room quickly, going to your nursery. There was a crib on one side and a bed on the other. The wall had a shelf full of books, both muggle and magical alike. A broom hung over your crib, zooming around in circles. This room, too, was covered in dust.

You were reading the titles of the book when you heard him chuckle behind you.You turned around and saw him remove all the dust. You gasped when you saw the room properly. There were hand-painted drawings on the wall and stars on the ceiling.

“She painted the walls.” he told you. “And the stars were my idea. There were nights when she missed you a lot and would come in here and sleep in this room. After a point, we all slept in the nursery, hence the bed.” He laughed fondly.

You didn’t like it. It was too painful to know that you had all these wonderful moments but you hardly remembered them. Too painful to know that you never got the chance to make more of such moments. You sighed and sat down on the bed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, sitting down beside you.

You looked at him, eyes full of unshed tears. You never realized how much you had needed him until he was right in front of you. “I - I barely remember you. Or mom. I see flashes of you and her, but that’s it.” He placed an arm around your shoulder and your voice broke. “I missed you, but it was so difficult missing you when I didn’t even remember you...” You then broke down into sobs as he pulled you into him. “I missed you so much, dad.” You cried.

Holding you in his arms as you cried only drowned him deeper in guilt. “I am so sorry, baby...” he said softly. “I never should have left that night. Please forgive me.”

You sniffed and looked up at him, tears still rolling down. “When grandma told me what you had done, I was so angry at you for leaving. But then I realized I wanted to be like you. Brave and loyal to a fault. McGonagall says I resemble you two so much that it is actually scary.” You laughed softly.

He smiled and wiped away your tears.

“I will be right back,” you said and left the room to change after sitting in silence for a few minutes.

He smiled softly to himself, knowing that his daughter had missed him just as much as he had. It gave him peace knowing that you had forgiven him. He was going through the story books when he realized that you were not 2 years old anymore. He couldn’t read you bedtime stories anymore.

“There are a few photos I need to know more about,” you said from behind him, as if reading his mind. “You can tell me about them.”

He nodded and ran off to get the photographs from downstairs. You placed the box in front of him and settled into bed, waiting for him to begin.

He chuckled at the collection of pictures your mother had. “These were my friends,” he said, handing you a photo of 4 boys with arms around each other, laughing to the camera. “Peter was a friend, too,” he said sadly.

“Tell me more,” you asked, your eyes full of excitement.

He laughed and began an elaborate tale of the Marauders in Hogwarts, reminiscing all their pranks and memories. Somehow, talking about them with you was not as painful as it was with others or when he was by himself and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

By the time he was done, you were already asleep. You had not completed the story behind even one photograph. He chuckled softly and tucked you in, kissing your forehead.

Now that he was finally home with his daughter, he was not going anywhere ever again.

[bamf-jaskier]

What the fuck are the Trials

Since the show is based on the books and not the games, and more people are more familiar with the games that the books, I thought it might be helpful to sort of officialize the posts I’ve done about specific topics in the books. 

Here are the previous posts on Triss&Geralt as well as Coën

TLDR: So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

Now, have a post about what the trials are as far as the books are concerned

It’s important to note that in the books, The Witcher are a dying breed so the Trials are really only mentioned in Blood of Elves when Ciri trains with the Witchers and the two prequels, Sword of Destiny and The Last Wish. 

Let’s start out with the basics of the Trials, here is a passage from Blood of Elves where Triss is wondering why the Witchers at Kaer Morhen are being so secretive in regards to Ciri:

“It’s obvious. They want to mutate the child, subject her to the Trial of Grasses and Changes, but they don’t know how to do it. Vesemir was the only witcher left from the previous generation, and he was only a fencing instructor. The Laboratorium, hidden in the vaults of Kaer Morhen, with its dusty demi-johns of elixirs, the alembics, ovens and retorts… 

None of the witchers knew how to use them. The mutagenic elixirs had been concocted by some renegade wizard in the distant past and then perfected over the years by the wizard’s successors, who had, over the years, magically controlled the process of Changes to which children were subjected. And at a vital moment the chain had snapped. 

There was no more magical knowledge or power. The witchers had the herbs and Grasses, they had the Laboratorium. They knew the recipe. But they had no wizard.”

Later:

“And now they want to mutate the girl but can’t. And that might mean… They may ask me to help. And then I’ll see something no living wizard has seen, I’ll learn something no living wizard has learned. Their famous Grasses and herbs, the secret virus cultures, the renowned, mysterious recipes…”

Now, what Triss doesn’t realize is that Geralt and the others are not planning on subjecting Ciri to the trials at all but are instead trying to hide Ciri’s magical ability from Triss. They are worried she will report them to the Chapter. 

Of course, until they tell Triss this, she is deeply suspicious and goes on to talk about the mushrooms Witchers have access to which are extremely unique. 

“Of course, thought Triss. They’re feeding her those legendary cave saprophytes – a mountain plant unknown to science – giving her the famous infusions of their mysterious herbs to drink. The girl is developing quickly, is acquiring a witcher’s infernal fitness. Naturally, without the mutation, without the risk, without the hormonal upheaval. But the magician must not know this. It is to be kept a secret from the magician. They aren’t going to tell me anything; they aren’t going to show me anything.”

Later:

“I don’t give a fig for your trust, witchers. There’s cancer out there in the world, smallpox, tetanus and leukaemia, there are allergies, there’s cot death. And you’re keeping your “mushrooms”, which could perhaps be distilled and turned into life-saving medicines, hidden away from the world. You’re keeping them a secret even from me, and others to whom you declare your friendship, respect and trust. Even I’m forbidden to see not just the Laboratorium, but even the bloody mushrooms!”

Triss as a mage has extreme bias against the Trials and for good reason! Most of the populace doesn’t have access to any information on the Trials outside of vague ideas but Mages have access to first hand accounts such as this from Blood of Elves: 

“On the third day all the children died save one, a male barely ten. Hitherto agitated by a sudden madness, he fell all at once into deep stupor. His eyes took on a glassy gaze; incessantly with his hands did he clutch at clothing, or brandish them in the air as if desirous of catching a quill. His breathing grew loud and hoarse; sweat cold, clammy and malodorous appeared on his skin. Then was he once more given elixir through the vein and the seizure it did return. This time a nose-bleed did ensue, coughing turned to vomiting, after which the male weakened entirely and became inert.

For two days more did symptoms not subside. The child’s skin, hitherto drenched in sweat, grew dry and hot, the pulse ceased to be full and firm – albeit remaining of average strength, slow rather than fast. No more did he wake, nor did he scream.

Finally, came the seventh day. The male awoke and opened his eyes, and his eyes were as those of a viper…”

~Carla Demetia Crest, The Trial of Grasses and other secret Witcher practices, seen with my own eyes, manuscript exclusively accessible to the Chapter of Wizards

When most people think of the Trials, they are thinking similarly to Queen Calanthe in Sword of Destiny. 

Here is what Calanthe says to Geralt when talking about what he might do with his child surprise: 

“You are astonished,’ she stated. ‘Well, I’ve studied a little. Since Pavetta’s child has the chance of becoming a witcher, I went to great pains. My sources, Geralt, reveal nothing, however, regarding how many children in ten withstand the Trial of the Grasses. Would you like to satisfy my curiosity in this regard?’

‘O Queen,’ Geralt said, clearing his throat. ‘You certainly went to sufficient pains in your studies to know that the code and my oath forbid me from even uttering that name, much less discussing it.’

Calanthe stopped the swing abruptly by jabbing a heel into the ground. ‘Three, at most four in ten,’ she said, nodding her head in feigned pensiveness. 

‘A stringent selection, very stringent, I’d say, and at every stage. First the Choice and then the Trials. And then the Changes. How many youngsters ultimately receive medallions and silver swords? One in ten? One in twenty?”

Later Calanthe asks Geralt:

“Do you believe a Child of Destiny would pass through the Trials without danger?’

‘We believe such a child would not require the Trials.’

‘One question, Geralt. Quite a personal one. May I?’

He nodded.

‘There is no better way to pass on hereditary traits than the natural way, as we know. You went through the Trials and survived. So if you need a child with special qualities and endurance… Why don’t you find a woman who… I’m tactless, aren’t I? But I think I’ve guessed, haven’t I?’

‘As usual,’ he said, smiling sadly, ‘you are correct in your deductions, Calanthe. You guessed right, of course. What you’re suggesting is impossible for me.’

‘Forgive me,’ she said, and the smile vanished from her face. ‘Oh, well, it’s a human thing.’

‘It isn’t human.’

‘Ah… So, no witcher can—’

‘No, none. The Trial of the Grasses, Calanthe, is dreadful. And what is done to boys during the time of the Changes is even worse. And irreversible.”

Later:

“The risks are too great,’ Geralt said quickly. ‘As you said. At most, four out of ten survive.’

‘Dammit, is only the Trial of the Grasses hazardous? Do only potential witchers take risks? Life is full of hazards, selection also occurs in life, Geralt. Misfortune, sicknesses and wars also select. Defying destiny may be just as hazardous as succumbing to it. Geralt… I would give you the child. But… I’m afraid, too.’

Then in The Last Wish, Geralt describes his own experiences with The Trials:

“Kaer Morhen…That's where the likes of me were produced. It's not done anymore; no one lives in Kaer Morhen now. No one but Vesemir. Who's Vesemir? My father. Why are you so surprised? What's so strange about it? Everyone's got a father, and mine is Vesemir. And so what if he's not my real father? I didn't know him, or my mother. I don't even know if they're still alive, and I don't much care.

“Yes, Kaer Morhen. I underwent the usual mutation there, through the Trial of Grasses, and then hormones, herbs, viral infections. And then through them all again. And again, to the bitter end. Apparently, I took the changes unusually well; I was only ill briefly. I was considered to be an exceptionally resilient brat…and was chosen for more complicated experiments as a result. They were worse. Much worse. But, as you see, I survived. The only one to live out of all those chosen for further trials. My hair's been white ever since. Total loss of pigmentation. A side effect, as they say. A trifle.

“Then they taught me various things until the day when I left Kaer Morhen and took to the road. I’d earned my medallion, the Sign of the Wolf's School. I had two swords: silver and iron, and my conviction, enthusiasm, incentive and…faith. Faith that I was needed in a world full of monsters and beasts, to protect the innocent. As I left Kaer Morhen, I dreamed of meeting my first monster. I couldn't wait to stand eye to eye with him. And the moment arrived.”

So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for 

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher 

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

This is why it’s such a big deal that Triss was brought to Kaer Morhen. Without a mage, someone cannot become a full Witcher and Triss believed that was why she was there. Of course, this wasn’t true but it’s a valid concern to have. 

One thing I want to note, there is absolutely NOTHING in the text that says that being a Witcher is limited to any sort of gender boundary. The fact that Triss so readily jumped to Ciri becoming a Witcher and the fact that Geralt didn’t specify  boys until he was talking about the sterilization process...well, there is a likelihood female Witchers actually existed. 

Again, in the books Witchers are a dying breed and you can literally count on one hand the number of Witchers we meet. Of course, considering mages are the ones who made Witchers, it makes sense that female Witchers are either strongly discouraged, banned or simply not talked about. 

One big point Triss has against Ciri’s training is that she won’t “develop” correctly like a woman “should” due to the mushrooms and harsh training and considering how so many northern mages place importance on beauty I could definitely see mages not wanting to have female Witchers, considering it a “perversion”. 

Just a fun thought I often have about the books that I haven’t seen anyone point out. 

So overall, here is what the books have to say about the Trials, it’s a touch different from the games but I find this very fascinating and interesting. Let me know if you want me to do a specific topic or relationship next, but for now, thanks for reading!

[starlightshadowsworld]

Son of none

Based off this post: Aka Percy Weasley was abandoned by his family and I don’t think they realised just how much danger an 18 civilian blood traitor son would be when stuck behind enemy lines. Well never fear, a fic is here as if I don’t have any other drafts...any whoooo

@transparentfreakpursepanda

Warning for blood, torture, self loathing. Mentions of bullying and neglect. Cursing.

(Also while writing this I was listening to Polaris by Natewantstobattle and...yeah if you want more angst while reading this listen to them and think of Percy :)  )

Percy deserved this.

Knowing that didn't change things. It didn’t make it easier to make it duck past the office that had once belonged to Barty Crouch Sr without feeling dread and greif. As harsh as the man could be and that he had not bothered to learn Percy's name... Percy still mourned his loss. For all that he was, Barty Crouch Sr had been a good man.

Life at the ministry taught him quickly, that kind of wizard was few and far between.

He wondered if the look Barty Crouch Sr had shared with his son before his death wax the same his father had shared with him the day he left.

Maybe it wasn't wise to compare yourself to a deranged murderer, but if that's the kind of wizard his family thought he was...

"Weasley"

It was stern, drenched in spite that was not unlike his old potions professor. But sadly even Snapes treatment of him in class did not hold a candle to what was happening now.

Percy lifted his head, it felt heavy. Infact all of him felt that he was on fire. The figure infront of him came into focus, not that Perch could quite recall his name. Edward? No that didn't seem right. Not Edward was his wand in hand and looked very annoyed, his dark mark was on full display.

Percy became very well aware in that moment that he couldn't move. He was bound to a chair in a room that looked very much like a cellar. He was still in his ministry robes, though they were dirty and tattered and stained in something.

It took Percy longer than he should've to realise it was his own blood. Not that he knew where he was bleeding from. "You Gryffindors and your bloody stubbornness" sneered Not Edward, he was a broad man, towering over Percy.

"You're wasting my time, and yours of you don't hurry up and tell me where your family is hiding." Percy shook his head, defiantly even if his body protested at the sudden movement. "Like I said before, even if I did know, I would never tell you." 

And than Not Edward would shout profanities all the while using his subordinates to use Percy as target practice till he passed out. That had been the cycle for... Well he wasn't sure for how long. Apart from the first time when Percy had weaved a convincing story about the family heading to Romania to hide away with Charlie...a whole false hunt that ended with the brand he now had on his arm. 

But this time was different.

Not Edward smirked "thought you'd say that, no matter. We've found out how to get there attention, and they'll hand themselves over." Percy laughed, it was a strangled and it sent another wave of pain through his body.

Not Edward was still smirking, in fact if anything his confidence grew. "And better yet, you're going to the bait that brings them here." And that stopped Percy laughing at once, he was quieter. "What makes you think they'd come" the words were barely above a whisper that echoed throughout the room.

Not Edward (Percy really needed to learn this man's name for his own internal monologue's sake) rolled his eyes "don't pull that on me, you Weasely's are more attached than a bunch of grapes. Rest assured, they'll be coming one way or another."

With that he left. Percy tried not to think about the fact a death eater had more confidence in his families arrival than he did. His mind wandered to the day he left, guilt pooled in his stomach. No amount of head trauma would erase the disgust and rage in Arthur’s eyes, Percy knew at that moment he had lost all right to call the man father. 

He could never look him in the eye again, he couldn’t even look himself in the mirror without seeing him staring back. His mothers eyes haunted him, she’d been the only one to try to reach out but he had slammed that back in her face. Not that Percy should have been surprised, he’d always been a parasite. 

If anything they must’ve been relived to be rid of him. 

They wouldn’t come, he knew that. Than why did his heart race, did tears threaten to fall and his stomach churn at the thought? Percy thought of his siblings, young and old...they wouldn’t have given him a second thought. Fred and George would mourn the loss of their favourite target, but they would move on they all would if they hadn’t already. 

For Percy though, this was the end of the line. 

_______________________________________________________________

Weasley family dinners were always something else, Bill knew this better than most. He smiled to Fleur who sat at his side, amusement on her face as they both watched Molly do as she does best. It was organised chaos at its finest, and while Shell cottage was a far cry from the Burrow, somehow it all came together. Harry was laughing at a story Ginny and the twins were telling, Charlie and Hermione were actually helping Molly along with Arthur. 

But even with how familiar it was, it was missing a certain brother rolling his eyes at the story and telling the true ending to the annoyance of the twins. Who would than direct the others to helping out with dinner to there mothers amusement. 

Percy. 

Ever since the watch, a muggle watch at that had arrived on his wedding day, with no name for the sender but only Bill’s name signed by an all too familiar handwriting...Bill hadn’t been able to take his mind of his little brother. His absence at his wedding and just seeing him around the house stuck out like a sore thumb to Bill. He wasn’t the only one either, he could see how his Mum would pause her eyes searching before looking down and moving onto something else.

Much like now when she put down the plates and realised that she’d left a little extra to the side. “Mum, I get that you miss him but you can’t keep doing this. Percy’s not coming back” the first to say it was Charlie, his voice soft like he was talking to an irate dragon. “Good riddance” that came from Ginny, in that whisper that wasn’t even trying to be quiet. 

Instantly Molly became much like a dragon. “Ginevera Molly Weasley, don’t you dare speak about your brother like that!” She yelled, hot tears burning in her eyes. “Molly...” Interjected Arthur, putting a calming hand on his wife’s shoulder “you can’t blame her for her anger. Come on, let’s dig in.” And that should have been the end of it but Molly turned to him, her own temper boiling. 

“Don’t you start, Arthur. Don’t you tell me I should be sat eating dinner while my son is out all alone.” She spat. “Mum, it’s fine Percy’s probably having high tea with the new minister, talking about the importance of  cauldron bottoms” snickered Fred, “pfft yeah, just sat around telling the dark lord about his book report” agreed George. Bill frowned, as did Fleur but that was nothing compared to Molly. 

Her gaze hardened and the twins shut up instantly, they’d never seen her this mad. “I dont care if you hate him, I don’t care if this isn’t my home...you speak of my son following HIM, get out of my sight now.” She said, slumping into a nearby chair. Bill stood up, putting his own hand in his mums which she took gratefully. “Percy may be the most ambitious lion around, but he wouldn’t join you know who. He left to join the ministry because that's what he believed in, death eaters isn’t even in the equation.”

And Bill meant those words. More than he ever thought he would. 

“Though is there any difference between the death eaters and the ministry anymore?” Asked Harry, the place was filled with them after all. “Yeah? Might be but they’ve kept the employees, not that I know what’s going on in there anymore.” Said Arthur, adding his 2 galleon’s into the mix. “And there not going to take kindly to a Weasley” Said Hermione, making everyone look down as if they hadn’t just realised that. 

It didn’t matter if Percy had disowned himself, his family was very much publicly fighting the people he was now stuck with. 

And that was when fate decided to be extra cruel and the radio burst into life. 

“Greetings from the Ministry. Our daily transmission has already been received today but we have an exceptional treat for the wizarding public. We will be instead hosting an interview with one of our newest employees, give a hand folks to Percival Ignatius Weasley.”

Everyone in the room froze, and yet Ron who was the only one of the family minus Fleur not to speak, ran to the radio and put the volume as loud as he could. 

“Say hello your family, Percival.” Taunted the voice, it was very gleeful as it spoke. No response was heard. “Oh, silly me I forgot how many hours you young people work, not to worry let’s get him up boys.” 

A splash was heard and a shuddering scream. “Morning Percival, sorry do you prefer Percy? Don’t care, lets start the interview. So Percival, how are you finding the ministry?” Everyone sat with baited breathe.

And yet it was there Percy who, through shuddered breaths managed to whisper a “fuck you...fuck you and your ministry”

“Well that is very rude, and here I thought your mother would have taught you manners” “don’t...don’t you talk about her.” Said Percy, Molly broke down into tears and Bill held her close. Unable to tear his gaze from the radio, no one could. 

“What do you want to say them? I’m sure they’ve missed you. In fact, just for you we’ll be hosting a party. And there all invited to the ministry, so long as they bring a certain Mr Potter.” 

There was a silence before “don’t come...don’t. Whatever you do, don’t... it’s fine. I’m fine, I love it here.” He laughed, everyone cringed at the sound he made, as if he was choking. “It’s fine, don’t come...parties are overrated yeah.” The transmission started cutting off, Ron frantically along with the twins tried to get it working. 

They heard “too busy. Don’t come, Harry don’t...stay where you are!” Before the  transmission cut off.

No one could speak, horror was etched into all of there faces. The twins were scrabbling over themselves with wand in hand to track where the transmission had come from. 

The Ministry. 

“We’re going...now” said Molly, standing up. Her tears were gone, grabbing for her wand and coat. “Molly...be rationale, we need to plan this.” Said Arthur, Molly spun on her heel and glared. “I am not going to sit here while those...monsters torture MY son! Planning will take to long, did you hear him Arthur?! Did you hear your son crying out in pain...he doesn’t have long left...” Arthur looked down, unable to respond. 

Molly looked at the rest of the family, her gaze saying it all: You can come with me or you can stay. The first to stand was Bill, closely followed by Fleur who met his thankful gaze with a determined smile. Charlie and Ron were next, grabbing there wands with Harry and Hermione following. Ginny and the twins exchanged guilty looks but stood. Arthur couldn’t look at any of them, he simply picked up his wand. 

“Harry, I understand if you wish to stay” said Molly, he shook his head. “I might not know him well but Percy’s family 2...I cant sit here while you guys go even with the danger.” He replied, and somehow that was all it was, Percy was family...enough said. 

And so the family of lions got up and left, to find the one they left behind. 

_______________________________________________________

Percy was terrified.

A part of him argued that he should be grateful they came at all for him. Maybe it was out of pity, out of ensuring that he wasn't able to be used against them.

Yes, that's all it was. He was nothing afterall, he was merely a civilian in a war.

And yet hearing Molly tearfully and frantically whisper his name. Hearing Hermione yell the counterspell to his imprisonment to Ron who did so perfectly. Seeing the light of spells cast by Ginny and the twins to stun Not Edward... (Who was apparently called Edgar... Eh close enough.)

Feeling Charlie carry him in his arms, mumbling curse words. Smelling Arthur's cologne.

It all felt right. It was warmth that he couldn't remember experiencing. It was enough to lull him to a facade that everything was fine.

But when his wounds were healed and he saw them all looking at him... Percy knew he had to shelf that dream. "I told you not to come" was the first thing he said, averting his gaze. (Couldn't look them in the eye)

"And you must've lost a few screws if you thought we wouldn't" said Bill, meeting Percy's gaze. "You shouldn't have" is all he replied. "And what, let you be killed by the ministry?" Gaped Ginny. Percy shrugged "wouldn't have made much difference, you've only gone and put yourselves in more danger."

"Are you... Are you fucking with us right now?" Asked Fred, incredously. "No, im too busy ranting about cauldron bottoms to do that." And if Fred paused, Percy didn't see it.

Seeing as no one was getting anyway, Bill sat beside Percy who immediately felt on edge. "Thanks for the watch" he said simply. Everyone blinked in confusion and than realisation as no one has known where Bill's new watch had come from. Percy smiled faintly "You're welcome, reminded me of you."

"Although, I do wish you could've gave it in person" continued Bill, testing the waters. Percy surprised him by shaking his head "no you wouldn't have. It was your day, I wasn't going to ruin it." Bill frowned "is that what you think?" Percy shrugged again "it's what I've been told."

"You are way to chill after being tortured" said Charlie, Percy looked at his bandaged arms and snorted. "Eh? It's nothing new. That guy was just there for the theatrics, sadist if you ask me." Charlie raised an eyebrow "nothing new?" Percy nodded "yeah, what you think the ministry that's so far up Voldermorts ass would allow me to work there without some 'interviews'."

Everyone paled.

"But than why stay there?" Asked Arthur, Percy froze. Steeling himself, switching from calm to panic to calm in an instant but they all saw. "I've got business there, things I need to get done and ensure are done. Speaking of which, thanks for the rescue but I should be off."

He didn't belong here. Not anymore.

"Percy, you can stay." Said Molly, already standing up to get his room prepared. "No, I can't. I have work, I have a duty... And I'm no longer part of this family." When he said that, Percy felt like the wind was knocked out of him but stood his ground. "Percy... That's not true.."

Percy met Arthur's gaze, his father's eyes. "Really? Than pray tell why did no one tell me you were all in hiding... Or a warning? And don't say it was impossible because I managed to send a parcel to a location I didn't even know about nor knew existed."

No one could answer that.

"I'll be off, and don't worry I won't tell them anything. Just do what you do best, and leave me alone." Arthur managed to grab Percy's wrist though he hissed in pain and pulled his arm back like he'd been burnt. "Don't.. Touch me, Arthur Weasely."

Arthur recoiled, Percy looked away. "I spent my whole life wanting to be someone you could be proud off...I listened to all the critism and yes I was a prat. But the moment I made my own choice you already made me aware I didn't belong in my own house. I’m sorry...that I’m not athletic like Ginny, I’m not smart like Ron or as successful as Bill and Charlie, I’m not a hero like a Ron or fun like Fred and George. That I’m just plain ol prat Percy.”

He began to walk away. Just like he did before.

"That choice was against following Dumbledor, turning against the light." Said Molly, wanting him to understand. Percy laughed, with no humour at all but glaring hard. Rage emanated from him.

"I'm sorry if I choose not to stand behind an old coot who routinely sends an abused boy to his abusers, who nearly got 3 11 yearolds killed because he wanted to weed out a possibility. Who nearly got thousands of children killed and did nothing to save Ginny with the chamber. The man who wouldn't give an innocent man a trial and got him sent to the worst prison for 12 years... Who put teenagers in a death game and let an underage kid join because why not. That man is a monster and I refuse to follow someone like that. But no that means I'm blindly following authority." He sneered, staring at them all.

"And the ministry? Because as corrupt and fucked up as it is I know I can do something. That changes can be made in the systems to benefit everyone, Dumbledor is someone who breeds child solider’s and let's a known abuser teach at his school and somehow I’m the only one who isn't okay with that."

And with that Percy left, no one knew what to say. They simply sat in silence, absorbing everything they just heard. Ginny thought about how Percy had profusely apologised after she was free from the chamber, how he’d made time for her since than. Ron thought of all the times they’d have an adventure and Percy would watch over them like a mother hen. 

Bill and Charlie recalled when Percy would still come to them for help before he started Hogwarts. When they found him bruised and broken from bullies except this was because of them. “He really thinks that doesn’t he...?” Said Fred, George nodded. Neither could smile, guilt pooled in their hearts that they didn’t think he felt like that. 

Molly sobbed for her son who was once again lost and Arthur wondered where he had gone wrong to lose his son all over again. 

________________________________________________

Meanwhile Percy entered a muggle flat in London. Alone again just like he belonged, laying on his bed and looking at the brand on his arm.

'Son of none'

And if that didn't hurt most of all.

Suffice to say they all things to think about for when they’d meet again. 

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Read on FanFiction.net

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

************

"They can't be serious…." Harry muttered in disbelief as he stared down at the very official-looking letter.

"Who's serious about what?" asked Ginny, stepping into their living room.

Harry jumped and quickly tried to hide the letter behind his back. "Nothing!" he squeaked.

He should have known better. Ginny got a mischievous glint in her eye and darted around him, trying to get at the letter. They spent a minute chasing around each other, but eventually Ginny faked him out into tripping over the coffee table, and she quickly snatched the letter out of his hand with a triumphant laugh, making Harry once again wonder if she wouldn't be even better at Seeker.

"Ooooo," Ginny sang dramatically as she saw the emblem at the top of the parchment, "an official statement from the Wizengamot! Have they come up with a new award to bestow on you?"

"No, it's even worse," mumbled Harry.

"Oh, well now I'm very interested," Ginny teased, "am I worthy to take a peek at such official correspondence between such important people?"

"Well, it actually concerns you too, Missy," said Harry, crossing his arms, "so go ahead."

"Hold on, let's see if I can get the right tone." Ginny cleared her throat, pointed her nose in the air, and continued in her haughtiest tone,

"To the esteemed Harry James Potter,

After consideration of your actions to serve and protect the Wizarding World of Great Britain, as well as the recent discovery of your lineage to the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, previously thought to be lost, it is with great honor and pleasure that we offer to restore your line to its former status by bestowing upon you one of the vacant Lordships!?"

Ginny dropped her character and her mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Along with the accompanying seat on the Wizengamot!" she finished quickly.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, and her face split into a wicked grin and Harry knew he would never hear the end of this.

Harry snatched the parchment back.

"Yeah, so in other words," he began before she could start getting her jokes in, "they're embarrassed by how many of their seats are still empty after half their members were thrown in prison or fled the country for being Death Eater collaborators, so they're once again trying to use me as their poster boy so they can look like they've turned over a new leaf. Except they clearly haven't, since they only deemed me 'worthy' after they found out which dead pure-bloods I'm descended from, so they're still the same navel-gazing, inbred aristocrats they've always been!"

By the time he was finished, he was shouting and he panted to catch his breath.

Ginny, however, still found the whole thing hilarious.

"Oh, it breaks my heart to see Lord Potter so displeased," she bowed low to him with a flourish of her hand. "Let me know if there's anything a lowly peasant like me can do to serve you."

"Yeah, yuck it up, Weasley," said Harry dryly, "Like I said, this affects you too."

She looked back up at him with a sardonic look. "How does your having to sit through long parliamentary bullshit have to do with me?"

"Well," said Harry, stepping toward her, "if I'm a Lord, that means that, if I ever get married one day—"

"Hypothetically speaking," said Ginny.

"Yes, then that hypothetical girl — whoever she might be — would become a Lady."

"Hmmm," hummed Ginny thoughtfully. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he snaked his arms around her waist. "So you think this is relevant to me because you're hoping to make me your Lady? That's mighty presumptive of you, Lord Potter."

"Well, I wouldn't say hoping," lied Harry. "It's just a logical possibility to consider, strictly because you're pure-blood, of course. But I'm still keeping my options open. After all, you know how much of a ladies man I am."

"Yes, of course. But you know…" said Ginny thoughtfully, tracing circles over Harry's chest with her finger, "'Lady Ginevra Potter….does have kind of a nice ring to it."

"Oh, but things would be expected of you, m'Lady," said Harry, "and you would definitely have to stop all that Quidditch nonsense. Such a vulgar and violent activity is beneath a woman of your standing."

"Oh, well, I guess that's settled, we have to break up," Ginny sighed, "We're just a part of two different worlds."

"I'll always remember you," said Harry romantically, "but alas, I must kiss you goodbye."

He bent down and gave her a kiss, then they broke apart as they cracked up into laughter.

"Come on, I'm not going to let anyone call me a Lord," said Harry, rolling his eyes, "and obviously I'm not actually going to sit on the bloody Wizengamot. Those seats are transferable, so I can give it to someone who will actually know what they're doing. My first instinct is your dad, but he probably won't want it either, and they'll do anything to get him off again. Andromeda would probably feel at home there, but could do some good. Or maybe McGonagall."

Ginny groaned. "You can be so boring sometimes, you know that? You have a chance to put Luna in a position of power, that would drive them insane! Oh, or how about Aberforth, that would be hilarious!"

Harry laughed. "We're not all agents of chaos like you, Gin. I swear, sometimes I think you're Eris in disguise."

"Oh, you think I'm a goddess?" Ginny flirted, "then I guess you better worship me."

"Hmmm," Harry kissed her again, but then sighed and pulled back. "Sadly, there's no time for that, we're already running late for dinner at the Burrow."

"Alright, should we go together or do you want to keep up the pretense that we're actually living in different flats?" she asked him pointedly.

He gave a weak, embarrassed smile. "I know it's ridiculous, and I might be a coward, I've just managed to escape your mother's disapproving stare so far in my life, I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible."

Ginny rolled her eyes but led him by the hand out the door of their flat, past the wards they had put up. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, and turned on the spot, feeling the squeeze of Disapparition.

*********************

"Come on!" urged Ron, "I'm hungry!"

"What else is new?" laughed Hermione, as she finished a letter she needed to send and tied it to Pig. After she sent the little owl on his way, she turned around to see her fiance standing by the fireplace, bouncing on his feet like a child on Christmas morning.

"Honestly Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head, "one would think you haven't eaten in a week, and there's no way that your mother even has dinner ready yet."

"Yes, but her pre-dinner scones should be coming out of the oven right now!" said Ron cleverly, "And I might as well have not eaten in a week, don't pretend like I'm the only one who's sick of our sad attempts at cooking."

"Alright, alright!" said Hermione. She joined him by the fireplace, threw some floo powder into the grate, and together they stepped into the green flames.

"THE BURROW!" Ron shouted clearly, and after the spinning sensation and flashes of various fireplaces, they stumbled into the sitting room of Ron's childhood home.

Ron's excited smile faltered when they saw the sitting room completely empty, with no one there to greet them. He recognized the overlapping voices of his family instead coming from the kitchen, and with a rush of horror he feared that his precious scones were already being eaten by an army of Weasleys. He led Hermione by the hand across the room towards the kitchen, and he started to make out individual voices.

"I just don't understand why they haven't told us!" said his mother.

"He probably knows what we're likely to do to him," grumbled Charlie.

"You've been away too long, brother mine," chuckled George, "I guarantee you she's the one keeping it under wraps."

"In any case, we know that pushing the issue will do nothing but make things worse," said Ron's dad gently, "We just have to—"

"Scones ready?" asked Ron loudly as he and Hermione entered the kitchen, and Hermione had to resist the urge to swat him. The conversation he had interrupted seemed interesting, and her suspicions were confirmed (and her curiosity inflamed) when all talk instantly ceased the moment they walked into the room. Six heads snapped towards the arriving couple as Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George widened their eyes in surprise and fear, like they were caught discussing something covert. Hermione also noticed how a few of them (mainly Ron's two oldest brothers) then narrowed their eyes venomously at her and her boyfriend.

While the kitchen of the Burrow was usually one of the warmest, most welcoming rooms in the world to Hermione, she noticed a distinctly cool, tense atmosphere this time. She looked sideways and saw that even Ron had clearly noticed, his eager smile slipping from his face.

There were several seconds of silence as the older family members' eyes all flittered between each other, holding a silent conversation that Ron and Hermione didn't know how to join. Then the loud ding of the kitchen timer made them all jerk suddenly.

"Wow, do I have great timing or what?" said Ron proudly, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, but some of his laughter died in his throat. His stomach didn't let him dwell on it, however, as Molly bent down to take the scones out of the oven, and the sweet, fresh smell filled the kitchen.

After she put the plate of scones on the table, Ron casually flicked a cooling charm over them before grabbing one greedily. The other Weasley men took their own, but they looked more like it was just something to do with their hands. While Ron hummed as he took a big bite, they chewed theirs thoughtfully.

"I should check on the washing," said Molly quietly, without looking at anyone. She grabbed a laundry basket and headed outside towards the clothesline.

"I'll help!" said Hermione cheerfully. She was always happy to help with the chores at the Burrow, but she also wanted to get one of the Weasleys alone to figure out what they had been talking about.

Molly didn't answer and continued outside with Hermione behind her.

"How have you and Arthur been?" asked Hermione pleasantly.

"Well, my days are still dreary, with no children left in the house," Molly sighed. "I knew that children don't stay children forever, but I certainly wasn't expecting my younger ones to hit so many milestones so quickly….and in the wrong order." She finished more quietly

Hermione frowned. Did Molly think she and Ron were getting married too soon? She had never expressed that before, she was overjoyed when they had announced their engagement.

"Er….well, Ron recently got promoted from Junior Auror," said Hermione uncertainly as she began helping Molly take garments off the clothesline and put them in the basket. "He'll be taking more serious cases now." So his career is well on track, if that's what you're worried about.

"I'm touched that you and Ron are willing to indulge that to me!" said Molly sharply

Hermione pursed her lips. Her patience was running out.

She stepped towards her soon-to-be mother-in-law and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Molly…"

For the first time, Molly turned to look at Hermione and the younger woman flinched back at the cold distrust and disapproval she saw in her eyes. Hermione felt a rush of deja vu, and after a short moment she realized where she had seen that look before: it was the same look she had received from Molly her fourth year, when the older witch had believed Rita Skeeter and was under the impression that Hermione was Harry's manipulative girlfriend, breaking his heart by messing around with Viktor.

"Mrs. Weasley...have I done something wrong?" asked Hermione weakly.

Seeing the hurt on Hermione's face, Molly's own harsh expression softened and was replaced with a wave of guilt. Her eyes got watery and her lip trembled, and before Hermione could say anything else she suddenly found herself being hugged tightly.

"No dear, you haven't done anything wrong," said Molly in a choked voice, as Hermione awkwardly patted her back, thoroughly confused. "I'm just being silly. I understand you're not choosing sides, you're just being a good friend."

Molly pulled back, and was smiling weakly at Hermione.

"Er...thank you," said Hermione, more bewildered than ever. "I don't mean to be rude, Molly, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh no, of course not," Molly winked dramatically, "There's nothing to tell, I'll drop it. Come on, dinner is just about ready."

Before Hermione could insist more strongly that Molly explain what the hell was going on, Molly picked up the now-full laundry basket and returned to the house, leaving Hermione blinking dumbly behind her.

******************************

As Hermione followed his mother outside, Ron continued to chew into the warm, buttery scone, barely looking at his surrounding family members, the earlier tension all but forgotten to him.

"So….little Ronnie doesn't come around for dinner as much as he used to," Bill pointed out.

"He and Harry have been burning the candle at both ends at the Ministry," said Percy.

"Hmm-hmm," Ron nodded, engrossed in his scone, not looking up to see the stern looks on his brothers' faces. "More than we need to be, honestly. But because of Harry's saving-people-thing, he's always sure that the next case will end in disaster if the dark wizard isn't caught right now, and of course he would be lost without me, so whenever he's working overtime I am too." He shrugged.

"Oh yes, I think we're all well aware how loyal you are to Harry," Charlie said darkly, "Even over other, older loyalties, as a matter of fact."

"Charlie…." began their dad warningly.

Ron looked back up, and grew uncomfortable again when he saw that all of his family members were looking directly at him. Earlier, he had assumed that the awkward tension in the room was because he and Hermione had interrupted an important conversation, but it seemed to go beyond that, like they were pissed directly at him for something he had done.

"What's going—"

He was interrupted by his mother re-entering the house, holding the laundry with one hand and wiping tears from her eyes with the other. Hermione followed in shortly behind her, and Ron looked pointedly at his mother and gave his fiance a quizzical look, but Hermione just returned a confused, helpless shrug.

"The roast should be almost done now," said Molly happily, and waved her want to send a flurry of plates and cutlery flying to settle in front of where each of the Weasley men were sitting.

"And I'm such a terrible mother, I neglected something," chuckled Molly, and bent down to kiss the crown of Ron's head. "We all missed you, dear."

"Mum…" Ron grumbled awkwardly, but he saw his brothers look at each other with slightly guilty expressions, and as they followed their mother's lead, the atmosphere of the room became friendlier.

Charlie drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I need a drink."

"Excellent idea!" pipped George. He waved his wand and summoned a large bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet along with several glasses, which zoomed right past Molly's face, causing her to jump and shriek.

"For the last time, only the cook can summon in the kitchen!" Molly scolded him, "I won't have this room devolve in complete chaos of flying objects until someone gets a concussion!"

"And I know you don't always act like it, but you are all of age," said Arthur, raising his eyebrows at George pouring several glasses of whiskey, "so I see no reason why you can't bring your own drinking supplies instead of raiding mine."

Molly huffed. "Well maybe it will be best if we stopped keeping that poison in the house—"

She stopped abruptly as they heard a faint pop from outside, coming from down the pathway, and Ron knew that Harry and Ginny must have arrived. Instead of beaming and rushing out into the garden to greet her two favorite children, however, Ron saw his mother gasp and a bit of the color drain from her face. His family members all looked at each other with that same expression he first saw when he came into the room.

Charlie gave a low growl and picked up a glass. "Yup. Definitely need a drink."

[boxofbadaddiction]

The Missing Piece

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader(Platonic)

All I Wanna Do Continuation

Warnings: Swearing. Angsty.

A/N: I know this was only meant to be a two part series...but I'm hopeless. So I present to you; Part II of (?)

It had been a couple days since y/n ran into George in Diagon Alley, revealing the hardest of truths to her long time friend. That being of her secret child to one Fred Weasley, conceived only the day before his death. The one whom she kept secret from her whole old life in London, after running from it. Marcos was the Weasley no one knew existed.

It had been more than difficult when George discovered the truth, seeing a young Fred with peircing y/e/c eyes barrell towards the two adults during a casual conversation between old friends. It'd hurt George more than he thought it were possible to hurt, no injuries sting ever coming close to the one he felt that day. However, after a night spent bonding with his newly discovered nephew and multiple nights of y/n explaining everything to him. From the night before the battle; which involved a little too much information in Georges opinion, to the day they accidentally crossed paths, he'd found a way to forgive her.

He'd been so angry in the beginning but now that they'd spoke and he saw her side none of that mattered. He couldn't stay mad. Not really.

It turns out though that y/n and Marcos had been staying in a small Muggle Inn as y/n searched for a place to relocate whilst Marcos reddied to begin his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Something which George refused to stand for, and so that's how for the past 4 days the two had been living happily above the store of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, number 93 Diagon Alley.

George hadn't been happier in so long, to have someone else living within the flat with him. To have someone to come home to. A family no less. Y/n felt the same way. But that didn't mean the dread of letting the rest of the Weasley family in on her dirty little secret were any less prominent in her life. Even George had to admit he was nervous as to how they'd react.

Of course since Marcos had learned of the additional family members, he were yet to meet, he'd been pestering the pair as to when he'd finally get to see them. So, often y/n and George found themselves up late planning the right way to go about it.

They'd decided on a meal at the Burrow with the entire clan present. No exceptions - meaning Dragon Boy himself, as well as the Workaholic. They'd worked out all the kinks through countless Owls flown tirelessly back and forth and it was settled.

Tomorrow at 5pm, the three (two as the family expected) were to arrive via the Floo network, in accordance with the fact Marcos had never travelled by Floo before and was eager to experience it. Though if you asked Mr and Mrs Weasley the reasoning, they'd say the pair simply preferred that way.

At 4:52pm, the day of, Marcos could be found waiting eagerly and very impatient by the fireplace of the Twins flat. "Come ooooon, Mum!" He whined staring to his uncle and mother fussing over whatever he-knows-not, whispering seriously to one another by the kitchen counter. "In a moment, bud." George answered, receiving a huff in response.

George had his hands placed firmly on y/ns arms to steady her as he spoke sternly, eyes fixed directly onto hers. "Everything is going to be okay. I'll be with you the whole time. They're going to love him." "It's not him I'm worried about." Y/n croaked, voice thickly laced with emotion, "I know this is what's right and he'll fit in perfectly, that they'll love him unconditionally. But what of me George, I kept him from all of you. How could they ever look at me again. Let me in that house again. I know it sounds selfish but I'm not worried for him at all. Because it's what's right. But just because it's the right thing to do doesn't mean it makes this whole mess any easier. There wouldn't even be a mess if it weren't for me." Y/ns head dropped, picking at her nails in attempt to distract herself from the burning that set in behind her eyes and in her throat.

"Hey." Lifting a delicate finger to the underside of her chin, George pulled y/n's attention back to him, "You did what you thought was best for you at the time. What you did wasn't easy and I understand it now, just like they will. Once you explain and they meet him...there's no way they can stand against you. Okay? It's going to be okay." The whites of y/n's eyes burned red as she held back the tears which were ready to spill. All it took was a nudge, in the form of a tight comforting George Weasley style hug, to knock them over the edge.

"Can't you hug when we get there?" Marcos groaned, rolling his eyes in frustration this causing his Uncle chuckle. Y/n pulled back and looked to the clock on the wall, 4:59pm. Wiping the few stray tears still running down her cheeks she stepped toward her son. "Sorry sweety." She smiled sadly, fixing his hair. "Why are you crying?" her son asked simply. "It's just...it's just been a very long time since I've seen any of these people. It's got me a tad emotional. Don't worry, we can go now." "ALRIGHT!" The boy yelled excitedly, jumping into the large fireplace. George placed a hand to y/ns back, guiding her in next to Marcos as he grabbed a handful of powder and stood to the boys other side.

"Everyone ready?" George spoke with a wide-eyed, unnerved expression to y/n, "ready!" Marcos bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly while his mother, unknownst to him, offered back a grimace and shrug. "Yeah that seems about right" George spoke more to himself. Looking back out over his living room tight-lipped he grasped the boys shoulder, "The Burrow." He dropped the glittering dust in a swift motion and the three were quickly engulfed in vivid green flame. Here goes nothing.

This dinner would be the first time everyone had been together in years. Since the war if you were to include y/n in the family head count, which Molly did. So as you can imagine she had been fussing over every nanodetail to ensure the whole night went perfectly.

"Molly dear, you must try to relax. You've out done yourself, everything looks splendid and they'll love it." Arthur assured his wife, with a light kiss to her cheek. "I just haven't seen her in so long, not since...well-"

Y/n and Molly had shared such a close bond as she grew up alongside the Twins. The sort of connection Mothers dream of having with their daughters. Y/n came to her about absolutely everything; classes, grades, bullies, boys. There was nothing the two couldn't talk about. So when y/n disappeared after the War, well to Molly it were as if she'd lost another part of her family: the pain she felt neared that of losing another child. That day Molly Weasley very well lost a piece of herself.

It was no wonder her emotions were currently running ragged at the thought of finally seeing her again.

"I have so missed her." "As I'm sure she has you but that is no need to overwork yourself dear, come sit in the lounge." Arthur directed his Wife back from the kitchen to where the rest of their family were gathered.

"Jeez mum, wish you loved us that much." Charlie joked over his mother's flustered form. "It's just y/n" Ron groaned. "The house looks lovely, Molly. But Arthur is right. You must relax." Fluer spoke from her place beside Bill. Though she appreciated the sentiment, their words did little to soothe her excitement and nervousness over tonight. "I know, I'm sorry everyone I'm just so excited to have her back. It's been so long after all." Arthur had his arm placed over her shoulders, stoking her arm contently as she stared to the clock on the wall. 4:52pm.

The group fell into comfortable conversation as they awaited the final two guests, all far more excited to see y/n than they'd care to admit aloud. This would be the first time any of them had seen her in over a decade.

A loud crash and a flash of green from the kitchen alerted the family huddled within the lounge just as the clock struck 5:00pm.

"Oh! They're here!" Molly spoke excitedly. George was the first to step out of the fireplace, ruffling his hair to rid the ash which coated it's ends: appearing like smoke from a flame as it hung from the ginger locks. The family moved quickly from the room, essentially jumping from their seats, to come greet them, however they were suddenly halted.

"Before you all swarm us!" George declared with palms raised towards the group, "there's a little uh-...announcement to be shared first. Or rather an introduction. You see we've brought someone with us." He looked back over his shoulder to y/n who was staring up at him with scared eyes as she trembled slightly in fear of what was to come. She glanced back to her son, hidden by the corner of the large stone wall of the fireplace before looking back up to George as if to say 'it's now or never'. "Just...try to have an open mind." His eyes were pleading for his family to understand even if they hadn't the foggiest what was going on. All their faces contorted as they looked between one another in confused anticipation.

George lowered his hands with a nod satisfied no one was going to tackle them in a crushing embrace or otherwise hectic greeting typical to that of the Wealsey family. Turning to the side so he no longer stood infront of y/n and the wall of the fireplace he encouraged his friend to continue. Y/ns eyes barely left George, aside from a quick nervous flick back over the gathered audience.

Turning back determinedly she reached her arms out for Marcos to hold, helping support him as he stepped down from the slightly elevated floor. There's a kind smile on his face as he moves toward the sitting room where the family is waiting. George places an arm on the back of Marcos nudging him forward slightly, with a nod to y/n, who is staring teary-eyed at him, breath hitching as she starts to panic. "Everyone..." he turns back to his family, "this is y/ns Son, Marcos." "Hello" he says simply with a warm smile.

Everyone looks like they've seen a ghost. Staring silently with mouths agape.

Though covered head to toe in soot his firey red hair sticks out like a Dragon in a flower patch. The Weasley hair. Not just that, it's his face. His entire body. His voice. It's everything but his eyes.

Marcos is quickly becoming uncomfortable as everyone just stares at him, this wasn't what he'd expected. He looks back over his shoulder to his mother. She steps forward and grabs his hand, placing her other on his shoulder, looking to George for strength as she speaks quietly, "I know I have a lot of explaining to do" she swallows hard looking back to the pale faced Weasleys, "but this has been too long coming and it couldn't wait any longer. If George's reaction is anything to go by I know you all have quite a few words to say to me. And I'll hear them all. I deserve it for what I've done."

Marcos looks up to his mother confused, what had she done? For all he knew they hadn't met simply because they lived in different countries. That's no reason why she'd be in trouble is it? He looks back around the room then to George who smiles warmly to him in reassurance. "Sorry isn't enough I know, but I am. Truly. It's time though, Marcos needs you. He needs his family."

No one says anything. Though all silent there's a mixture of strained emotions held within the room. Many teary eyes. Some white knuckles and poorly hidden anger. But mostly it's shock.

Bill's looking around his family, worried, someone needs to say something. They can't just stand there any longer gawping. Dropping Fluers hold he walks forward, heads turn at his sudden movement. He squats infront of Marcos smiling as he shakes his nephews hand with both of his "It's nice to meet you Marcos. I'm Bill," he turns slightly on the spot to point towards his partner, "that's Fluer, my wife." She offers a small smile and wave, then Bill turns back to face him "I'm the eldest of your uncles." He states proudly, "And the coolest" he winks speaking the final line in a whisper. Marcos smiles, whispering back "But Uncle George said that he's the coolest" "yeah don't listen to him, or any of the others - there'll be a lot of that going around." Bill chuckles.

Marcos starts to relax at his uncles attempt in conversation. Y/n and George smile sweetly to one another but with nerves still evident in their expressions. "How did you get your scars?" Marcos asks abruptly. "Marc-" y/n warns, "ah, now THAT is a pretty awesome story" Bill grabs both his hands in his once more, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet etching ever closer to his nephew as he readies to tell the story, "you see there was this fight, at Hogwarts, before the War where I was up against this Werewolf-"

"Alright, alright, Bill, don't hog the boy with your boring old Greyback story." Another redhead interrupted, walking forward from the group to push his brother to the side, Marcs face contorted in confusion, brows furrowing and head falling to the side. Did he just say his story, with a werewolf, was boring!?

"I'm Charlie" the man knelt before the boy smiling widely "and I am by far cooler than these ones don't listen to them." "How are you cooler?" Marc asked "I work with Dragons." He widened his eyes in mock surprise before smiling again. "REALLY!? DRAGONS!?" Marc lit up like a Christmas tree. Charlie turned his head over his shoulder with a smug shit-eating grin on his face as he taunted his siblings for the reaction he'd elicited from such a simple statement. "Yep. Dragons." "Do you have one!? Can I see it!? Are they really as dangerous as everyone says?" Marc was firing questions at him quicker than his breath could carry, his enthusiasm endearing and contagious as the rest of the family made their way to make their introductions.

"Move it Charlie" stated a firey haired young girl "Merlins bollock!" "Marcos, Language!" Y/n warned but her son paid no mind to the woman too engrossed in the individual before him. "I know you! You play for the Hollyhead Harpies!" It was Ginnys turn to grin smugly to her brothers as they were pushed to the side. "It's lovely to meet you Marcos." She hugged him warmly. George and y/n stepped back a couple paces to allow the family more room for introductions.

Y/n was quietly crying as George had his arm placed securely around her back listening along to the excited conversation of everyone present, her son in particular, each time he was met with a new face. Until it seemed to reach a peak.

"YOU'RE HARRY POTTER!" "There it is." George whispered amusedly in y/ns ear. "The one and only." Harry smiled, "I must say, you look so much like your father. Except the eyes of course you've got-" "-my mothers eyes. Yes. So people keep telling me." Marc nodded with thin lips, this being maybe the hundredth time he'd been told so. "Sorry, trust me, I know that line gets a bit old." Harry smiled to himself.

Y/n was wrapped up in the various pieces of conversation that met her ears as more introductions were made. She always felt something had been missing from her life, she assumed it were simply Fred. She was wrong. This is what she was missing. They were missing from her.

They were her missing piece.

"Hello, my boy, I'm Arthur - your grandfather it'd appear" he stated warmly very much liking the sound of that. "What do you do?" His grandson asked curiously. "I work with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts in the Ministry. Tell me..." Arthur began in a firm murmur, "do you know how exactly a 'microwave' works? I've been told it is a box which produces heat a-" "Daaaad not now!" Ron had grumbled. "I'm Ron. I'm an Auror with the Ministry" "like Mr Potter?" "Exactly." "Wicked".

"Greetings, Marcos. I'm Percy" came the next, posh, voice. "Hello, what do you do?" "I work within the Ministry-" Percy began before being interrupted by a sarcastic voice, "yeah don't worry about that one, Mate. Percy is in no running for the favourite uncle." George had spoke loudly causing a wave of chuckles to issue through the room.

Everyone was so warm and inviting and excited, it made y/ns heart swell. Hand placed to her chest as the other muffled her quiet gasps as joyful tears fell from her eyes. It was perfect, until she noticed something.

Where was Molly? Her eyes scanned the room, she was here not a moment ago where had she...

George noticed her shifting gaze and tensed posture. "Something the matter?" He whispered before his own eyes scanned the crowd of people. She needn't say a word as realisation struck swiftly, causing him to straighten himself. Dread flooded his body. "Don't fret, love" he whispered once again, gently rubbing her shoulder blades before taking a step towards Charlie - the closest member of his family - tugging on his shirt sleeve. Charlie leaned himself back towards his brother, eyes not leaving Marcos, nor the smile leaving his face. "Where's mum?" George asked. Charlie shrugged in response with a slight shake of his head "no idea".

Worry set in across Georges face, caught by Ginny across the room, whose head fell to the side as she silently asked the question, mouthing a simple "what?" To this George mouthed back "Mum?"

Her gaze quickly fixed to the room, brows furrowing as she noticed her mother's absence. Ginny looked back to George, shrugging she mouthed "up stairs?" George grimaced. It wasn't like his Mother simply to disappear. He certainly hadn't expected such a reaction. Given the circumstances, she should have been the first greeting him. With a suffocating hug and some offer of food.

"One sec" Ginny mouthed, holding up a finger while she quietly ascended the Burrows staircase in search of Molly.

George placed a firm hold around y/n again as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Ginny returned a few minutes later, arms wide with a shake of her head to let him know her search came up empty. George nodded a thank you, turning his head over his shoulder toward the kitchen. Empty. But the door...the door wasn't latched.

With a final squeeze to y/ns shoulder and a light comforting kiss to the top of her hair line he left her side for the first time since they'd arrived.

Y/ns arms wrapped around her body feeling far too vulnerable in the moment without George by her side. But she knew he had to be the one to find her.

Charlie's attention had been turned to the pair as he noticed Ginnys shrug in their direction. Looking just in time to see George walk towards the door as y/n tensed, insecurities and anxiety setting in.

He was unsure how to react. On the one hand he was ecstatic to discover he had a Nephew, one which oozed confidence and joy. One exactly like the Brother he'd lost. He fit like a puzzle piece into their lives, filling a hole they thought would never be filled. Though the cracks were still there, and he could never truly replace Fred - not that they'd want or expect him to, Marcos was the missing piece they needed in their lives. More than any of them probably realised.

On the other hand, however, Charlie was angry. Worse than angry. He was full-fledged fucking furious. Not an emotion usually acquainted with Charlie Weasley, the most carefree and open minded Weasley in the clan. To think someone he considered a friend, no. family. For years could just up and disappear from their lives, hiding this boy from them, this part of their family from them for more than a decade...it was a thought that made him sick. Feeling his throat close over and stomach turn at the disgusting lie he'd been unknowingly living. Talk about hard pills to swallow. Could he look past this?

Staring at the girl infront of him he did what he's always done. He began to reason. As painful as this is he knows there's two sides to every story and lashing out in anger is not going to solve anything. So he looks at it from her perspective; she'd just lost the man she loved. Perhaps she didn't know at the time she was pregnant? After that she ran, he remembered the last time he saw her. She'd broke down saying she can't stay in England any more, he'd thought it was just the emotions talking but she was gone days later, once everyone who'd died were buried. So she ran, and found out she was pregnant. She was alone and grieving and terrified. Still he couldn't see why she didn't think she could come to them. That was beyond even his reasoning, he assumed she'd explain all of this in due time. Until then what she really needed was for them to be there for her.

So, swallowing all those festering venomous thoughts he stepped toward her. Placing a tentative hand to her shoulder with a brief half smile. She looked to him defeated, his name falling from her lips in a sigh the beginning of an apology followed as she trembled before him. He silenced her with a shake of his head, wrapping her within his arms in a hug to let her know everything would be okay. "We're here for you" he whispered simply.

As George stepped out of the house in search of his Mother, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the bright unfiltered sunlight beating down overhead, he scanned the hills and the veggie patch - where she wasn't. Walking slowly he headed for the back garden - where she was.

Sitting with her back to him on their concret garden bench, her posture was stiffly straight but her head hung low. The light sniffle of her nose told him everything he needed to know about her current emotional state. He had been fully prepared to find her seething with anger, afterall she had never been afraid to cry infront of the family before but anger was something she rarely liked to broadcast. Unless of course a scolding was in order for her children's bad behaviour. But here she was crying.

He placed a gentle hand to her shoulder unable to think of the words to make his presence known. She jumped at the touch before placing a hand atop his own. "Mum?" He asked hesitantly, she didn't speak, only wiped the fresh tears which had fallen from her eyes with the corner of her appron. George moved to sit next to her, hand not leaving her shoulder. He patiently waited for her to speak knowing it best not to force any conversation.

His eyes travelled over her face; eyes puffy and red, lip trembling slightly. Then down to her hands which both now played tensely with her frayed appron ending. He always hated to see his mother so upset, usually he had a joke to crack making her smile but since Fred he had trouble 'picking up the slack', as it were. Never able to break an awkward silence the way Fred had. He needed that first line from another to prompt any sort of sarcastic or witty remark. Hate to admit it but he were a tad envious of his twin in that respect.

After several long minutes Molly spoke. "Oh, George..." she sobbed defeatedly. His attention was immediately back on her face, waiting for her next strangled set of words. "He-he...he's..." "he's not mine." George nudged playfully in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere but it comes out a tad sad in his opinion.

"He's so much like him. Exactly like him if not for the..." "eyes." George spoke, smiling fondly at the thought, "he has his mother's eyes." Molly faced him finally, "Why'd you leave?" He questioned. Gingerly running a hand through the hair above her sons scar she replied sadly "It was just too hard." And more tears fell.

"It's hard for all of us Mum, I know it's a lot and this would be the last thing you'd ever expect to come from the fireplace but it's what came. And through all the bad and confusing you need to see the good. You have a Grandchild. Your first. What you've always wanted." "But George, it's not-he..." "he looks exactly like Fred, sounds exactly like Fred and acts exactly like Fred. But he's not, I know. He's not Fred. But he's a piece of him. More than what we had." Molly was shaking with tears now as George spoke with her. A similar burning taking root behind his eyes, but he had to hold strong. The family needed that right now. "I know it's hard, believe me when I found out I-well...let's just say some bystanders were scared they were about to witness a murder" he chuckled. "I'd never been so angry. But y/n explained everything. She talked me through it and she'll do that with you. With everyone. You just have to give her the chance."

Molly scoffed slightly as she let out a long breath. Looking up to her son her heart swelled to think she was able to raise such a strong, passionate and caring young man. She'd never been prouder of him. Seeing how, through everything; the war, losing Fred, finding out the truth about Marcos. How he managed to stay that compassionate and loving young man she always knew...it was beyond her how he could do that.

She'd lost so much during the wars. In the first she lost her brothers, and countless friends, then she lost a son to the second. When had she lost herself along the way? It was then she knew she needed to be the mother he deserved. That they all deserved, stronger than she had been before. She had to be with her family now. The family which just grew by a member. "What do you say, Ma, Ready to meet your Grandson? Cause you know I've been telling him all about how his Grandmother is the world's best cook. Don't know how much longer he's going to be able to wait for one of your homemade apple pies I've been telling him so much about."

Molly began to smile through her light tears before her face dropped completely. "Oh no!" She'd near shouted placing hands to her mouth, jumping from her place on the bench and startling George in the process. "I didn't cook any apple pies! I didn't think to! Usually we only eat those on very special occasions and- well, yes of course this is the most special occasion...but I had no idea!" Molly paced back and forth fussing over the fact she had no pies prepared "oh, George, you don't suppose he'll be too disappointed do you? I'm sure I can whip up a batch before dinner. Oohh but I haven't any apples! I'll have to run to the store".

George sat smiling fondly as his mother twidled her fingers together stressfully. It was endearing he thought, how quickly her priorities change. It wasn't till she started running her hands through her hair and down her appron he knew she needed to be calmed down.

He stood, placing both hands to her elbows to stop her pacing, looking down to her with a grin "Mum...relax." "oh George but the pies!" "MUM! How bout, first things first...you meet the boy." Silent laughter radiated through his chest as her eyes flew open "oh of course! How could I be so selfish! Do I look okay? I don't want to come across as some nutter" "doesn't matter how you look, you'll ways be a nutter." Molly smacked her son's arm as he laughed.

Slowly the two made their way back inside, his arm tight around her shoulder. He found it concerning at how slow she were walking but knew this was a difficult situation.

As the kitchen door swung open all eyes fell to the pair. Marcos was sitting on the small coffee table of the sitting area as everyone was gathered around, filling him in on anything and everything he wanted to know. Y/n was tucked closely under Charlie's arm on the sofa. Everyone went quiet once again as the two rejoined. Y/ns eyes flew to George who nodded at her, letting her know everything was okay.

Y/n was the only one to move as George and Molly approached the group. She stood, grabbing Marcos by his hands and moving him towards his Grandmother.

He stood straightly, smiling before her as y/n knelt beside him. "Marcos, this is Molly. Your Grandmother" y/n smiled sweetly but nervous up to Molly who only had eyes for the boy infront of her. She had a hand placed to her mouth as she held back glistening tears. "It's nice to meet you" he held out his hand for her to shake, but she didn't move to take it.

"Wait for it" George smirked knowingly. Marcos dropped his hand slightly, head falling to the side in confusion. Wait for wha-

Molly instantly swooped down, engulfing the young boy in a bone crushing hug as a heavy breath left her throat. "We're so glad to have you here, my boy." She let him go, leaning back to place his face between her palms smiling brightly through joyful, unfallen tears. "Bit peaky, what's say we begin dinner" she asked warmly. "That sounds nice" Marcos mumbled through squished cheeks.

"Come, this way Dear," Molly placed a hand to his back directing him to where they'd be eating, fussing over the boy more with each step.

George and Y/n watched on as her son happily seated himself at the table and Molly began piling various foods onto his plate as the rest of the family did the same from the lounge, basking in the small moment shared between Grandmother and Grandson.

'This is how it should always have been' Y/n thought with a heavy heart. There was a calmness in her mind as she watched on, replaying the way the family had greeted the pair as they entered. Things might just work out better than she had feared. Might.

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Funny Girl (Pt. 2)

Summary: Being serious has never been your thing, but when you find yourself at the center of a conflict that tears Fred and George apart in the midst of the second wizarding war, it’s hard to find something to laugh about.

Warnings/Notes: Violence, hospital setting, blood, crying. This is a second part per the request of several of you and also my own brain goblin. There will be a part three!

tags: @weasley2x @weasleyfilms 

It’s been several months since your falling out with the Weasley twins. The tensions in the wizarding world are coming to a head; the dark lord grows stronger by the day. Purebloods are becoming bolder in their oppression of muggleborns and wizards of mixed heritage, not to mention no-majs. Potter and his little crew have disappeared. Dumbledore is dead. Things look rather bleak. 

You wish you could say that you worked things out with your friends, but they both felt betrayed, even though you tried to explain the misunderstanding. How could you have known that they’d both have feelings for you? How could you have predicted that they’d both make their move on the same day, within minutes of each other, nonetheless? You weren’t prepared to choose, then or now. And that’s what they demand- me or him, him or me. So you distance yourself. You’re still friends with Lee, but your friend group has really broken apart since you and the twins have begun avoiding one another. 

In confidence, Lee tells you that he’s never seen Fred so on edge, and George has become more withdrawn than ever. He reassures you that they’ve patched things up between the two of them, though. It was your biggest worry after the fight, that they’d let you drive a wedge between them. That was foolish to even consider, of course. You’ve always known that, although the three of you had been a trio ever since you met, their connection to one another was closer than their connection to you. It’s only natural. They were born together, and, apparently finding the provided companionship sufficient, have clung together ever since. Blood runs thicker than any matter of the heart. No falling out could change that for very long. 

You, on the other hand, are left alone, without your two closest friends since first year. You try to throw yourself into your final year of studies, but your heart isn’t in it, and you wind up working with some others outside of class to hone your defense against the dark arts skills; you sense something big is coming. When the battle of hogwarts arrives, you have your first conversation with fred and george since your falling out. Mrs. Weasley sees you and pulls you across the room, eagerly shoving you in between the twins. You groan and nod curtly at each of them as she bustles away. It’s a sweet gesture- Molly has always liked you, and clearly wants you and the boys to patch things up- but it feels much more grim given the circumstances. Some people will certainly lose their lives tonight. It may be your last chance. 

You sigh and look at Fred almost shyly. His eyes meet yours gingerly, and in that glance is all you need to know. He pulls you into a tight hug, and you match his embrace. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says softly.

You turn to George, who pulls you into his arms without hesitation. His broad shoulders heave with a massive exhale. 

“It’s good to see you again,” he says.

“I bet it would be even better to hear me,” you say, grinning. He fingers the bandage over his mangled ear and smiles.

“We’ve been making some adjustments. Trying to see how smooth we can get his noggin, bit by bit. Soon he’ll look just like an egg,” Fred says, putting a hand on your shoulder. The way the three of you interact is like before, but more careful. The tension is still there. There’s a lot you need to talk about to really smooth things over, but the urgency of the situation forces you to bandage the wound as best you can. It’s comforting, at least, to know that they’re intentions are for the restoration of your friendship.

When the barrier is lifted and the hordes come rushing in, you fight right alongside the Weasleys. The three of you work in tandem perfectly, knocking out death eaters one after another as if this is your job. You wipe out a particularly nasty one and George whistles in admiration. 

“Done this before?” he asks. You spray covering blows as Fred and Percy run across an open stretch of courtyard into the castle’s corridors, into the fray. By the time you hear the corridor collapsing, taking Fred under its enormous weight, you’re too absorbed by the encroaching crowd to pay it any mind. It’s only later when you realize that you heard, even saw, the explosion, and did nothing. 

When the battle pauses, George is still right there beside you. The arm of his jacket is ripped, and you can see blood caked on his skin through the tear. The air is dusty and morale is low. You look around, watching as those who are able emerge with stretchers and collect the injured. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch a classmate, the girl who sat next to you in potions, lifted onto a stretcher, writhing in pain. Now that you can finally think, fear clouds your mind. George’s voice breaks your reverie. 

“Y/N,” he says. You turn to him. He puts his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes. “We made it.” You nod, blinking tearfully, and pull him to you. Your small frame shakes, adrenaline still coursing through you, your thoughts clear and urgent. George’s chest rises and falls as he tries to regain his breath. Over his shoulder, you see Percy jogging alongside a stretcher. He looks stricken. You freeze, your eyes widening. You shake George’s embrace off and nod towards the scene.

His face darkens and you both take off running to catch up with Percy and the students carrying the stretcher- on further inspection, it’s two boys from your year looking nearly unrecognizable, drenched in sweat and the grime of battle, their faces ashen. 

Percy looks at you but doesn’t speak. You brace yourself and look down at the stretcher. It’s as you feared. Fred. He’s pale, his breathing shallow, his body limp. 

“Freddie!” you scream, your heart in your throat. George nearly collapses at the sight but you pull him onward, knowing that above all, you must be together now, that in this dire moment Fred must be with George, and George with Fred, to the very last.

George, weak in the knees, casts an arm around your shoulders and you follow Fred into the great hall. Time seems to move slowly. You wave down the Weasleys, and they crowd in. Fred is set down on the stone floor, and you move to wave down a healer, but it’s impossible to find one who isn’t occupied with some other task. 

In this moment, nothing matters to you more than saving Fred. You yank on the shoulder of nearest healer, who’s working on a wounded leg.

“Get over here,” you say roughly. “He’s dying,” you add, waving toward the grim scene. She nods curtly at the owner of the bloodied leg and turns her attention to you.

“There’s nothing we can do. We’re waiting on transport to St. Mungo’s to arrive, but we can’t fix the unforgivables here. We just aren’t equipped.”

“Waiting? Waiting?!” you shout, grabbing her by the shoulders. “There’s no bloody time for waiting. Save him! Do something! Now!”

The healer, a sallow-cheeked woman in her forties, pries your hands off her shoulders and pats your arm sadly. She shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, knowingly, “but I have to focus on saving those who can be saved.” She turns back to her patient and continues mending the leg. You look around frantically, but George is there, pulling you to kneel around the stretcher with the others, before you can decide what to do.

“It’s no use,” he says, his mouth set deep in a frown. You finally take a good look at Fred, and it’s almost too much. You know that this may be the last time you see him alive, if this can be called living. You bury your face in his side, breathing in his scent. You feel yourself begin to cry. 

“Freddie, my Freddie. I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you,” you murmur into his bloodied jacket. You feel him shudder, and he moans what may be an attempt at speech. Soon, the healers from St. Mungo’s are there to take him. By that time, you’re sure he won’t live. George, of course, goes to St. Mungo’s to wait, and you follow. The rest of the family stays to fight, Molly and Ginny especially resolute in their quest for revenge. Later, you hear reports that the Weasleys all fought like animals, hardened by grief. The waiting rooms at the hospital are overflowing, and you and George are left to slump on the floor. You throw your overcoat across your laps for warmth and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, after many moments of silence. 

“I love you, George Weasley.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry about everything.”

“Me too,” he says. You feel him shake softly with tears, and you hold him as he cries. Eventually, his breathing becomes more even, and he slumps into your lap, asleep. You hold him protectively for hours, waiting for any news at all, but none comes. A few times you flag down St. Mungo’s staff and ask about Fred, but they have nothing. By morning, when rumors arrive that Voldemort has been defeated, cheers ring through the halls, but you and George remain in limbo. Others like you fill the waiting area, their faces timid and bleak. Nobody speaks very much. 

Finally, the nurses let you in to see him, and he’s a pitiful sight. But he’s alive. Watching the hospital sheets rise and fall with his breath is the greatest gift. The nurses tell you he should regain consciousness soon, and you sit alert beside the bed, hope flooding your body. You clasp George’s clammy hands in yours while you wait, stroking the back of his hands soothingly. 

Finally, Fred stirs. He blinks gingerly and looks around the room, unable even to raise his head from the pillow. Immediately, George is at the bedside, grinning.

“Fred!!” he cries, grasping his brother’s face in his hands excitedly. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, you handsome devil.”

“What happened?” Fred asks weakly, looking dazed. Your body goes electric with joy at the sound of his voice, and you run to find a nurse, as you were instructed to do. You grab the first person you see in scrubs and pull him back to Fred’s room. When you burst in the door, Fred inhales sharply. 

“Y/N?” he asks softly.

“Freddie!” you exclaim. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that dopey voice.” You rush to his bedside and hold his hand while the nurse checks his vitals. “There’s so much I have to tell you. If you had… well, you didn’t, I suppose is the point, and… Freddie, I love you. And I’m sorry about the past few months.”

“Y/N. I love you too. And I’m sorry, too. Even sorrier.”

“Good,” you say crossly. George looks at you questioningly. “What? He started it!” Fred laughs weakly and you kiss him gently on the forehead. You’re not sure what your relationship to the boys will be going forward, but for now, it’s clear: all is forgiven, and acknowledged, and accepted.

[jingabitch]

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.1

Summary: When you were ten, Taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. Now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

Pairing: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

Warnings: smut | talk of ownership (reader is tae’s pet human) | (eventual) daddy long legs syndrome | masturbation (m) | tae is conflicted | OC is underage when they meet, although there is no sexual attraction until after she is an adult

Word count: 10.5k

A/N: here it is!! I hope you enjoy it and tell me what you think; I was really unsure about writing this, especially at the beginning. Edit: I will not be doing a taglist, so please don't ask. Thank you!

Series index

“Hyung –”  Taehyung whined as he sulked on the couch of the dorm.

Yoongi sighed, looking over at his team member. “What is it, Taehyung-ie?”

“I’m bored,” Taehyung replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he slid down on the couch, his usually perky ears drooping.

The snow leopard hybrid just grunted, flicking one of his ears in irritation. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Hyung, come play with me, please?”

Namjoon, who was lying on the adjacent couch, stifled a snicker. Taehyung had been more needy than usual in the past few weeks, and he was working Yoongi’s last nerve. The older man had inherited his animal counterpart’s solitary tendencies, and while he was, for the most part, happy to socialize and hang out with the rest of them, Taehyung had been cutting into his alone time a little too much lately with his neediness, and the grey-haired hybrid was Not Happy.

Jin, their resident spotted hyena hybrid, laughed, a sound very reminiscent of his animal counterpart’s trademark sound. “Yoongi, just play with him. He’s lonely.”

Yoongi scowled. “Why do I have to do it?! Isn’t this why you got a pet in the first place, to keep you company?”

Taehyung’s frown deepened. “It is, but as you can clearly see,” he bit out, upset now, “Yeontan isn’t here.”

Hoseok, seeing the snow leopard hybrid taking in a deep breath to begin ranting, cut into the conversation to save the wolf hybrid from a scolding. “Hyung, you know how Tae is. He misses the company, is all.”

“Why don’t you just get another pet, then?” Yoongi asked.

“Because the same thing would happen, hyung,” Taehyung responded drolly, unable to hide his irritation at what he clearly thought was a ridiculous suggestion. “I don’t want to get attached to another pet, and then have to palm it off onto my parents again.”

Namjoon, ever the problem solver, lit up in that way that happened only when he had a eureka moment. “Get a human, then!”

The rest of them gawked at him. “A human?!” Jin asked skeptically.

“Yah, if he didn’t have time for a dog, how’s he going to care for a human baby? They’re even more high maintenance, and for way longer!” Yoongi snapped.

Namjoon made a rude noise. “Don’t get a baby, then! There’s lots of children and adolescents in shelters that need good homes. You can get one of those; they’re more self-sufficient.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s genius!”

Jungkook and Jimin, who had until now remained out of the conversation, immediately leapt up excitedly. “Yes, yes, can we adopt a human, pleaaaase,” Jimin pleaded. The black-footed cat hybrid, already small in stature and adorable because of his animal genes, opened his eyes wider and pouted up at the others.

Taehyung and Jungkook, seeing him, followed suit, and before long, the other members conceded, and they’d agreed to get a human pet. Taehyung, excited now that he was going to have a new little pack member to take care of and keep him company, immediately ran to get his laptop so he could research human shelters in Seoul.

Two hundred years ago, humans created hybrids in science labs. Splicing human genes with animals was supposed to create the perfect servant, companion and soldier – with the intelligence and capacity for emotional connection of humans and the superior physical capabilities of other animals, these new creations were supposed to make life better for humans.

What the scientists hadn’t realized, in their hubris, was that it was extraordinarily likely that the hybrids wouldn’t be content merely taking orders and serving the whims of humans, who were, after all, genetically inferior to their artificial perfection. A revolution and reordering of society occurred, and now humans were the pets, bred for the sole purpose of being the best possible companions for their hybrid owners.

You understood this history well enough, thanks to the kindly old hybrid who adopted you as a baby to soothe her empty nest syndrome after her grown-up children moved out and began their own lives, and her husband sadly passed away. She’d given you far more than she was obliged to as an owner, even ensuring that you had a basic education.

It had been a couple of years since she’d unfortunately passed away suddenly from a massive heart attack, landing you in a shelter when none of her family members wanted to take you in. Now that you were ten, you understood that the likelihood of you staying in the shelter for the rest of your childhood grew exponentially each day, as most families wanted babies or toddlers that would be more attached to their adopted families.

Plus, everyone loves babies.

You sighed as you pushed the covers off yourself. You’d finally managed to get a coveted bottom bunk bed after one of the girls in your room was adopted out, and you felt like you should be happier about it.

If only it wasn’t so sad to be happy about getting a bottom bunk in a shelter, after years of waiting your turn. You hoped against all hope that you wouldn’t spend much time in this bunk, that you’d be going home with another family soon, and you promised yourself there and then that if you ever got adopted, you’d do whatever it took to make your new family happy for saving you from this drudgery.

As you made your way to the cafeteria for breakfast, you noticed that there seemed to be a lot more… buzzing than usual. You shrugged it off – you’d been here long enough to know that it just meant a high-profile visit was scheduled for the day, and all of the children were told to dress up and be on their best behavior.

Picking up a tray and lining up for your breakfast, you held in a sigh. Most people are looking for babies and toddlers, and it’s rare that anyone wants to adopt at a shelter. Even when they do, they go for younger children, who are still cute and cuddly.

Well, not that you weren’t cuddly. It was literally in your genetic makeup to crave physical affection because hybrids like to snuggle with their pets, but you’d lost that cute doe-eyed helplessness that hybrid clients like in their pets. With a sigh, you took your tray and sat in a corner to eat, unwilling to listen to the excited chatter of the younger children. You weren’t that hopeful anymore, and it hurt too much after the first few times to get all excited and put in effort, only to not be chosen at the end of the day.

Finishing your breakfast, the same porridge with kimchi and laver that you have every morning, you went back to your room to wait. It’s standard procedure – every child has to remain by their bed in their room when the prospective client arrives and takes a tour to find the child they want to bring home.

With a sigh, you sat on your bed, propping the pillow up against the metal frame of your bunk bed, to continue reading the book you’d begged off from one of the caretakers. Most of the human children couldn’t read, because it wasn’t mandatory to teach them and many of them were rescued off the streets, but the grandmother who owned you before had taught you the basics.

You were still engrossed in the story – a classic from hundreds of years ago about a boy who found out he was a wizard and went to a school called Hogwarts – when Taehyung arrives, flanked by Namjoon on one side and Jimin on the other. The leader had accompanied Taehyung to restrain him and keep him from getting every child in the shelter, and Jimin had just wanted to see cute human children and give his two cents’ worth on the human they eventually adopted.

Because, as he said, he was Taehyung’s best friend so a pet Taehyung adopted would naturally be his business. The others didn’t quite buy it, but Taehyung seemed okay with him tagging along, so he cleared his schedule and came.

The matronly caretaker at the shelter, a middle-aged dog hybrid, came out to greet them excitedly when they arrived, gushing about all the cute children they had in the shelter, and how she hoped they would find their perfect match today.

They nodded and listened politely as she ushered them into her office, where she went over the ground rules for today. No pictures, no yelling, disturbing the children, et cetera. If there was a child they were interested in, they had to ask for permission before they were allowed to approach the child, and at all times children’s safety was paramount – if they indicated that they were uncomfortable, they could be removed from the situation without any repercussions. It was all aimed at ensuring that the humans were prioritized and felt safe in their home, and this was why Taehyung had chosen to support this shelter.

Namjoon, ever the responsible one, and Taehyung, who was dedicated to becoming a good pet owner, listened carefully as the hybrid caretaker explained what the challenges were in taking care of a human child, especially one that had lived in the shelter. Older children would be harder to train, she said, less malleable, and depending on what their circumstances had been before coming to live in the shelter, may have trauma or other psychological scars.

Jimin impatiently bounced around, aware that this was important stuff, but just excited to see some cute children and hopefully take one home today. When they finally stood up to leave the office and go to the dorm rooms where the children were waiting, Jimin could hardly keep the wide grin splitting his face under control, and Taehyung was similarly excited, the muscles under his shirt periodically tensing up as he resisted the urge to bounce along behind the caretaker. She was hardly likely to be impressed with him if he couldn’t demonstrate that he was a mature adult able to take care of a human child.

Because Taehyung had made it clear that he wanted an older, more self-sufficient human pet, the caretaker skipped the first two rooms, where the young children were, and the nursery, heading straight to your room. You were still reading your book, and she tutted as she saw you sitting there.

“Y/N, sweetie, would you like to come say hello to these nice hybrids?” she asked patiently, and you looked up from your story, surprised to see that there were indeed three men clustered behind her. Most hybrids decided on the child they wanted to bring home after seeing the younger children, so it was uncommon for you to see visitors.

You were tempted to reject the offer, but remembered your earlier promise to yourself, and smiled graciously, putting your bookmark back in and leaving your book on the bed. “Yes, ma’am,” you said sweetly, standing up and brushing imaginary lint off your skirt. “Good morning, sirs. My name is Y/N. I’m ten years old, and I’m very pleased to meet you,” you recited dutifully, remembering the spiel they taught all the children to say to visitors.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N-ah,” the tall wolf hybrid said, kneeling down so he could look you in the eye. His ears twitched slightly as he looked up at you slightly, and you smiled back. He had such a friendly demeanor that you couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him immediately. “My name is Taehyung, and these are my friends Jimin and Namjoon,” he said, pointing at the other two hybrids. You weren’t certain what kind they were, although you deduced that Namjoon was some kind of canine hybrid and Jimin, based on the cute rounded ears on top of his head, was a large cat.

“It’s a pleasure you meet you all,” you said politely, looking up at them. Your speech was crisp, delicate and refined from years of being the prized companion of a wealthy old lady.

“Likewise,” Namjoon said with a nod, and Jimin said nothing, but smiled so widely that his eyes all but disappeared. You smiled back, liking them already, and hoping that they would choose you to go home with them.

“What are you reading, Y/N-ah?” Taehyung asked, and you took his hand excitedly, bringing him to the bed where you’d left your book. He trailed after you, looking back at the other two members with a wide grin. It was so cute, how you lit up when he expressed interest in what you were reading, and how at ease you seemed to be, even initiating contact with him. You didn’t seem aware of who they were, which he supposed was to be expected, since he didn’t think humans really kept up with pop culture, and it wasn’t like you were walking around the streets of Seoul where BTS music was playing all over and their photos were plastered on every available surface in the city.

Sitting down next to you, he listened, his chin in his hand, as you chattered away excitedly about the book. Namjoon and Jimin came to squat on either side of you, and you basked in the undivided attention that you hadn’t had since your previous owner passed away.

“Who taught you how to read, Y/N-ah?” Namjoon asked when you wound down, his ears sticking out of the black hair on his head flicking slightly.

“My previous owner,” you replied.

“She seems nice,” Jimin said carefully, and young as you were, you picked up the unspoken question.

“She was,” was all you said, a little quietly and sadly. You missed her, the woman who’d asked you to call her ‘mom’ and really had acted like a mother to you.

At least, you think so – you were bred by a breeder to be a pet, and you didn’t remember your own mother, having been too young when you were separated from her.

After talking for a little while more, they excused themselves and you smiled as graciously as you knew how, returning to your book as they left the room to go back to the office to discuss things further.

“Hyung, she’s so precious,” Taehyung fairly sang, spinning around in circles with his arms spread out wide.

Namjoon was more reserved, but he agreed internally. She wasn’t rambunctious in the way that Yeontan was, but adorable all the same, in the way she’d lit up while talking about her book and how easily she’d accepted their touch, clearly happy to have the physical affection.

Jimin, way more exuberant than Namjoon, grabbed Taehyung’s hands and bounced around with him. “We’re getting a human!” he cried out in excitement as they jumped like children up and down.

The wild dog hybrid just shook his head at his two younger bandmates, before leading the way into the caretaker’s office to settle the adoption paperwork.

You returned home with them that day, to your surprise and pleasure. You hadn’t allowed yourself to hope until the caretaker came back to let you know to pack your meagre possessions, and sends you off with them. Taehyung gives you a hug when you walk out of the building with your bag to join them, and straps you safely into his car before they take off, back to his apartment.

As you were travelling there, they chattered away, filling you in on what their home will be like. You found out that they were part of a boyband that live together, and you would be moving in with all seven of them. Apart from the three hybrids in the car with you – Taehyung, who bought you, the wolf hybrid; Namjoon, the serious-looking African wild dog; and Jimin, the adorable-looking black footed cat who was sitting in the back with you – there were another four. They were all predator hybrids, something Taehyung noted with some pride, beaming at your reflection in the rearview mirror.

You smiled back uncertainly at him, apprehensive about how different the new arrangement was from your previous one but still certain that no matter what, it would still be better than living at the shelter. It hadn’t been awful – it wasn’t like you’d been abused or anything while you were there – but with how stretched thin the resources at the shelter were, it had been impossible for you to get the care and attention that you required to be emotionally and mentally healthy after all this time.

Carrying yourself as stiffly as you could, in order to leave the best first impression possible, you hugged your bag tightly to your chest and stood ramrod straight in the elevator, resisting the urge to look around curiously. Your previous owner had been wealthy, but she hadn’t been this wealthy, and you’d never been in a lift that was so opulent before.

Taehyung tugged the bag out of your arms insistently, and you relinquished it after a brief struggle for control over it. You didn’t want to put him out, feeling that he’s already done enough, adopting you and giving you what looked like it would be an amazing home, but he was stronger than you and you were also concerned that he would think you were too stubborn or headstrong if you continued fighting him, so you let it go.

When they ushered you into your new home, though, your jaw dropped and you couldn’t hold back your reaction that time. The apartment was so nice and spacious, worlds away from the shared room you’d lived in at the shelter. Taehyung laughed at your expression and whisked you off to his bedroom, which was now a shared bedroom for the two of you, showing you where everything you would need was. After getting you settled in, he led you back out by the hand to the living room, where the other boys were gathered, eagerly waiting to meet you.

And that’s how you became part of the BTS family.

Your new home was very different from the one you had spent your early childhood in. Living with seven young and energetic hybrid men meant you suddenly had companions and playmates to indulge your more rambunctious impulses, whereas before you’d always had to be calm and docile, since there was no way your previous owner would have been able to keep up with a screaming and running child on the playground. It wasn’t like it had been bad – you were naturally a quieter child, but all children need space to run and play, to expend their excess energy, and as hard as she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to offer you that.

On the other hand, you played so much with your new family that you were completely exhausted every night, and Taehyung had to prod you to get ready for bed properly, instead of just collapsing in whatever you were wearing. He didn’t mind, though, pleased that you were having so much fun every day. Besides, having you around to dote on made all of them happy, especially Taehyung, who missed his young cousins and was still slightly bitter about how much of his siblings’ and cousins’ childhoods he hadn’t been around for, and later, his nieces and nephews.

And so you spent your adolescence in their company, making a home for yourself. It wasn’t just BTS that seemed to have adopted you – Big Hit as a whole did. The stylist noonas were utterly thrilled to finally have a little girl around on the regular, and treated you alternately like a little sister and a doll, dressing you up in all the cute girlish trends they privately sighed over but couldn’t experiment with.

Another benefit of having a human as a pet was that it was far easier to transport a person – humans were allowed on planes and buses, so you could travel with the boys. Your calming presence helped soothe frayed nerves and mediated fights, and ARMY loved watching the tender interactions between the boys, who were all predator hybrids, and the wide-eyed human child, claiming that it showed how nurturing the boys were despite their natural inclination, and how they would be good fathers someday. You even had your own little fanclub, like Yeontan had before you.

Speaking of Yeontan – the little dog had gone to live with Taehyung’s parents, so you didn’t get to see each other that often, but when you did, the two of you got along like a house on fire. Taehyung had to keep an eye on you at mealtimes to make sure most of the food on your plate wasn’t finding its way down to Yeontan, who lay casually across your feet at the dining table, while the dog was so excited to see you that he basically ignored Taehyung whenever the both of you arrived together.

The vlive of you and Yeontan taking a nap on the couch after Chuseok dinner with his family, curled up together as you whined about your tummy hurting while Taehyung, behind the camera, laughed as he teased you about being such a glutton but then went to rub your aching belly, became the most watched vlive ever, spawning a million GIFs.

It also became common for you to be somewhere in the background of Namjoon’s vlives, reading a book on his couch, while he chatted with fans. After many requests for you to appear on Eat Jin, you did eventually do an episode with him, although he spent the whole time comparing the food to meals he’d cooked for you in the past.

One might think that growing up the lone female around seven men might be awkward at times, especially with you going through adolescence and getting your period and all that, but they made it normal. Hybrids were far more open about normal bodily functions than human societies had been, and it would have been stranger for them to get squeamish about their pet’s bodily functions. There was no hiding from them when you got your period or anything like that, but they were so nonchalant about it that you were too, even warning you beforehand when you were going to start because they could smell the changes in your scent.

It was all fine – at least, until the boys went to the military.

All of them enlisted together when you were sixteen, and you went to live with Taehyung’s parents while they were serving. Living in Geochang was a change of pace from Seoul, but it was nice nevertheless. You helped out at his parents’ farm, got to play a lot more with Yeontan and the other animals running around, and had a lot more freedom since his parents were too busy to micromanage you.

During this time, you really grew into your own – enrolling in an online GED course, using the Internet and the enormous resources at your disposal to figure your personal style out, even finding human friends and a boyfriend. Who would have thought that Geochang had such a thriving human community?

Needless to say, by the time the two years had passed and you went back to live with Taehyung, you were a vastly different person, in both temperament and appearance, than you’d been the day he dropped you off.

Still, you’d missed being in Seoul with him, and you were excited to go with his parents to pick him up from the military base. You’d never been to visit him when his family members went, because they’d needed someone to stay home and tend to the crops and take care of the animals, and ever eager to please, you’d volunteered to do it even though you really wanted to see Taehyung too.

This time, though, you had to go, because everyone was going to Seoul to spend the night, and then you would stay with Taehyung. Although you hadn’t seen each other in two years, you’d kept in contact via text messages and video calls whenever he was free, and you knew that he’d decided to move into an apartment in Seoul without the other boys. It was about time – Seokjin was pushing thirty and planning to propose to his longtime girlfriend, and it was a little weird for seven men in their thirties to be living together anyway.

So you packed your things and prepared to move out of Geochang and back to Seoul. It wasn’t difficult – with technology it was easy for you to keep in contact with your friends in Geochang, and you’d broken up with your boyfriend a couple months ago on amicable terms. The most difficult thing for you had been saying goodbye to Tannie, who was getting on in years now and had relied on you more and more each day.

But move out you did, and you bounced in your seat all the way to the military base where Taehyung had been living for the past two years. When you first saw him walk out of the compound, still in his uniform, your excitement got the better of you and you flew towards him, perhaps uncharacteristically for you given how taken aback his parents were, but you didn’t care.

“Taehyung-oppa!” you screamed as you ran. To his credit, he didn’t waste any time processing the missile currently hurtling towards him, and just opened his arms for you to leap into.

“Hello, Y/N,” he laughed as he hugged you close. He’d missed you too, his cute little human, and after so long away from him, you didn’t smell anything like him anymore, something he was determined to change as he started rubbing his cheek on the top of your head. Used to it after living with him for so many years, you just stood still and let him do it.

Fansite photographers and more zealous fans who’d come to see him cooed and sighed at the cute picture you two made. You were still tucked under his arm, clinging to his shirt, as he greeted the people who were gathered, thanking them for coming all this way, and thanking his commanding officers and platoon mates for being there for him for the past few years.

Then it was over, and he was in the van with his family for a more private reunion. You were still clinging to him, not that he minded as he stroked your hair softly as he chatted with his family. He’d seen them when they’d come to visit, or during his breaks – it was just you that hadn’t had the chance to see him since he’d gone away.

During the drive back to Seoul, you tucked your face into his neck and took a nap, tired from all the excitement. While you were asleep, Taehyung asked his mother how you’d been. “Did she give you a lot of trouble?” he asked.

She chuckled. “No, she was an absolute angel. So good with the children and the animals, always eager to help out.”

He smiled. “Yeah? That tracks. The lady at the shelter told me she has an amazing pedigree.”

“It was a real joy having her, Taehyung-ah. You’re lucky to have such a sweet human in your life.”

“I am. I hope she had a good time in Geochang, too.”

Taehyung’s mother laughed at that. “Oh, did she ever!”

His curiosity piqued, his ears perked. “Sounds like you have some good stories to share.”

“The girl had the time of her life these past two years,” his mother snickered. “She had a lot more freedom in Geochang than in Seoul because it’s smaller and safer, so we let her go out on her own a lot more, and she’s really sociable. She even found a boyfriend.”

He raised a brow. “She did? Sounds like she had lots of fun in Geochang, then.”

He wanted to find out more about what you’d been up to, but since they were arriving in Seoul and would be at the restaurant for dinner, he couldn’t, instead waking you up since you always took a little while to be functional.

You untangled yourself from him sleepily and almost fell out of the car as you tried to get out, and it was only his father’s superior hybrid reflexes that saved you from eating asphalt as he caught you and put you back on your feet. Murmuring your thanks, you waited for Taehyung to climb out of the van and lead you into the restaurant by the hand.

Tonight, you were dining at a Korean barbeque restaurant, which was always a winner for the hybrid wolf family. Usually they just ate meat, not even bothering with lettuce wraps, but they were still nice enough to order some vegetables and king oyster mushrooms for you. You were in charge of grilling, of course, not that you minded, and hearing the praise from everyone else at the table made you glow a little every time.

Taehyung was the center of attention that evening, of course, as he regaled his family with tales of his time in the military. He was the first member of BTS to be discharged, although since they’d all enlisted at around the same time, the others were due to be discharged in the coming few months, so unfortunately there weren’t funny stories of his bandmates coming to visit him, but Bang PD had, and so had some stylist noonas.

There were also stories about silly punishments and shenanigans, water parades, being made to hold the wall and shout, “Help, help! The wall is falling,” because he’d been caught leaning against it once, that made everyone crack up and you almost drop the tongs right on the grill.

Eventually, though, he started asking about how everyone had been, which turned, perhaps inevitably, into everyone ganging up on you and trying to tell the most embarrassing story they could think of. You sighed and whined as one by one, they all took turns rehashing your various mishaps to Taehyung – you trying to climb a tree and getting stuck like a cat, your various fashion disasters as you tried to ‘find yourself’ – complete with pictures, of course, and worst of all, your theatrics when your GED certificate came in the mail.

Well, you were really proud of that last one, but did they really have to describe your joyful outburst as helpless histrionics?

Still, though, the way Taehyung squeezed your hand as he told you how proud he was of you made everything better.

Soon enough, dinner was over and all of you piled back into the van to go to Taehyung’s new apartment. It had already been set up by the multitude of assistants that BigHit had, with some input from his parents, so it was basically already liveable. With so many people helping, it wasn’t long before all your things were moved into the apartment too, and then the two of you were left alone, for the first time in two years.

Since you had so much spare room in the apartment, you had your own bedroom, and it was beautifully decorated just how you’d pictured it, with a very pretty queen-sized bed in one corner with a white cushioned headboard and pink-and-grey patterned sheets, a reading nook in front of floor-to-ceiling windows with an overstuffed chair and foot rest, a lamp, and a large bookshelf with a ladder occupying the adjacent wall, and a little coffee table with a scented candle already on it next to the chair. Fluffy rugs were strewn across the room, and a wooden dressing table sat on the opposite side of the room. It was beautiful and comfortable, everything you’d dreamed of, but when you got ready for bed, you found yourself missing Taehyung.

Which led to you in your pajamas, all scrubbed down and ready for bed, knocking plaintively on Taehyung’s bedroom door. He seemed to know that you would be there even before opening the door, which he probably had, with his enhanced senses (and the fact that there was no one else in the apartment).

When he opened the door for you, clad in just his pajama pants, all you had to do was pout up at him and he was standing aside to let you in. Generally, he indulged your every whim, because according to his life philosophy, why have pets if you weren’t going to spoil them rotten? Making a beeline for his bed, you made yourself comfortable by burrowing under his sheets and fluffing up one of his pillows.

Shaking his head at you, Taehyung followed you back to the bed, getting into the other side with an indulgent huff. “You know, I paid a lot of money for your bedroom,” he said drolly. Ignoring his remark, you cuddled close to him and shut your eyes stubbornly, and he capitulated with a sigh, stroking your head as you drifted off to sleep.

Somehow, you smelled different than he remembered. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and it wasn’t bad by any means, but it was just… different. And he didn’t quite know what to do about it.

For some reason he’d been reluctant to ask his parents, even though they’d been the ones living with you for the past two years, if they’d sensed anything different about you. He’d rationalized it to himself at the point – since they’d been with you every day it was likely that they wouldn’t notice anything different if your scent had changed gradually, and if it had been sudden and enough to cause worry, they would already have let him know about it.

Still, his mind wouldn’t stop racing with the possibilities as he leaned in closer to take a good whiff. He could still smell the base notes of your scent, which had always been somewhat citrusy, but now it was slightly… earthier, with a musky, deeper aroma threaded through it. Was it vanilla? Perhaps cinnamon?

Whatever it was, it was nice, and he shut his eyes to allow himself to drift off after deciding to do research on humans’ scent changes tomorrow. He didn’t think it was anything to worry about – any illness would definitely have a sharper, less pleasant scent – but he didn’t know why your scent would suddenly change again. It had changed gradually once before, as you went through puberty, but based on what he’d read about humans, it shouldn’t change again for many years yet.

No harm finding out more about what could be causing it, he thought as he slipped after you into slumber. Maybe he would take you to a doctor, too, if it became necessary.

Morning dawned, and Taehyung woke up leisurely for the first time in too long, slowly blinking his eyes against the morning sunlight streaming in from the windows. As he slowly became conscious of his surroundings, he became aware that he was the most comfortable he’d ever been, probably in his life, and he nuzzled closer behind your ear.

Wait a minute. A second later, he drew back. He didn’t remember going to sleep with a lover, and he definitely hadn’t had a girlfriend since his last one broke up with him while he was in the army. So who was he currently wrapped around…?

When it dawned on him, he recoiled in horror, and almost crab scuttled away from you. Thankfully, you were still asleep and hadn’t noticed his morning boner pressed against you, because it was beyond inappropriate for him to feel that way about you, his pet.

Unfortunately, his abrupt movements pulled on the duvet that you were sharing, and jostled you awake. He froze, wide-eyed, as you stirred. “Taehyung-oppa?” you said, voice raspy with sleep.

“Shh, I’m just going to pee,” he lied. “Go back to sleep, sweetie, it’s still early.”

You hummed wordlessly as you burrowed back into the covers, and despite his own inner turmoil, he smiled at you as he straightened the duvet over you before he left the bedroom.

He darted into the bathroom, where he sat on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands. God, what the hell was wrong with him? You weren’t a hybrid, and he didn’t understand how this could have happened. In that moment before he’d woken up fully and realized what was happening, his instinct had been to treat you like a… lover. He shuddered at the thought.

Okay, he thought, getting up. He was going to take a shower, rub one out, and then pretend like everything was fine. This was an aberration, just a weird fluke. You were warm and in his bed, and it had been a really long time since he had any action, since military service tended to inhibit such activities.

He just needed to get laid, and get used to your new scent, and then everything would be fine. No one would need to know about this embarrassing little slip-up.

With renewed determination, he started stripping off his clothes to get into the shower. All soaped up, he started sliding a hand down his body to grasp his erection firmly, which had never really gone away. Biting his lip, he started stroking it slowly, running his thumb over the head on the upstroke. His mind, however, remained unfocused, flitting between various memories and porn he’d watched, never able to focus on anything long enough to immerse himself.

That is, until his enhanced wolf hearing picked up the rustling sounds in the bedroom. He could hear, even over the sound of the shower, so clearly what you were doing that his mind had no problem filling in the blanks. The rustle of the sheets meant you were pushing the covers back; the soft thud on the ground meant you’d sat up and put your feet down. Then you stretched, and he definitely had no problem imagining it – or an overly erotic version of what actually transpired. Your soft moan of satisfaction as you cracked your spine sent a shiver running through him.

After that, it was basically a race to the finish line, as he fisted himself as hard as he could, leaning forward to brace his free hand against the wall in front of him. Usually it took a little longer, and he would play with his balls more, but it wasn’t going to be necessary this time, he could feel it. Remembering how good you’d smelled this morning was enough to push him over the edge, and he muffled his groan in his shoulder as he came all over the wall of his shower, the hand on the wall curling into a fist.

“Fuck,” he panted as he washed the cum off himself and the wall. Needless to say, he didn’t feel any cleaner after that shower.

When he came out of the shower, you were already getting breakfast ready. Another perk of having a team of assistants dedicated to making your life easier – the fridge came fully stocked. You’d washed up and pulled a sweatshirt on over the cami and pajama pants, and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw that it was a BTS merchandise from several years ago.

“Good morning,” you chirped, flipping the bacon. “I didn’t know what you wanted for breakfast, but I remember how much you love bacon, so I figured this would be safe.”

He leaned his elbows on the island and watched you warily from a distance. “Are you sure you should be cooking?”

“I got better,” you shot back defensively. “You shouldn’t have let me take cooking lessons from Namjoon-oppa in the first place.”

“No, I really shouldn’t have,” he agreed absently. You really had improved in your cooking, he thought, watching how easily you moved around the kitchen. It wasn’t long before a giant helping of bacon was sitting in front of him, with a more modest, human-sized portion on your plate, and some toast.

“You really should have let me make you breakfast,” he sighed, even as he started to tuck in. “I miss spoiling you.”

You shot him a cheeky grin. “Not to worry, you spoiled me plenty while you were in the military,” you sassed him.

He huffed out a laugh. “I know, I saw the credit card statements.”

Giggling, you eat another bite of your breakfast and smile at him with your cheeks stuffed, and his heart clenches with fondness. How could someone so plainly adorable drive him so crazy this morning? It must have been a fluke; his instincts misfiring. He just needed to get laid, and then everything would be fine.

Update: everything was not fine.

Things got progressively worse over the next couple of weeks, until Taehyung was honestly filled with dread every night when you came into his room and slid under the sheets on the side of the bed you’d claimed as yours.

It was getting to the point that all you had to do was sidle up to him for some cuddles and he would start getting sidetracked from having your scent invading his personal space. And yet it wasn’t like he could ask you to dial it back – it was in your nature to be physically affectionate and needy; it was literally what you’d been bred for. What could he possibly say, anyway? “Sorry, but can you stop touching me, it turns me on”? You’d be horrified, and rightly so. You trusted him, he could see it every time you smiled up at him like the sun, looked at him with complete adoration in your eyes, came to sit on his lap for cuddles. His reaction was a complete betrayal of that trust.

There was definitely something wrong with him. It was sick for a hybrid to be thinking about his human pet in this way. Maybe he should be the one to see a doctor, but he’d probably be arrested.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if it guaranteed your safety from him.

Amidst all the angst and worrying about whether he was a danger to his own pet human, there were some bright moments. All of his brothers were discharged from the military, and after Jungkook, the last to be discharged, was released, they’d all gone for a massive reunion/celebration. You’d wanted to join, but he’d said no, knowing that there would definitely be plenty of alcohol that night, which meant that firstly, he wouldn’t be in any position to look after you and/or resist your charms, and secondly, your underage self was definitely not going to see how depraved your precious oppas were going to get.

The night started off well enough, with a nice dinner at an exclusive new restaurant in Seoul. The wine flowed freely, and by the time they were done, everyone was more than a little tipsy. They then moved to a club – again, exclusive and new – where they were automatically ushered to the mezzanine. A bottle of whisky was brought to their table, but soon enough, several of them had left to hit the dance floor – Jungkook, that brat, was of course looking for someone to spend the night with, and Hoseok and Jimin just wanted to tear up the dance floor.

“How have you been spending your time off?” Namjoon asked. Taehyung had been a little off all night, quieter than usual and when he thought no one was watching, he had a little frown perpetually affixed to his face.

Taehyung forced a nonchalant shrug – or at least, what he hoped passed for nonchalance. “Just hanging around,” he said vaguely, hoping to fend off any more probing into his life. “What about you?”

Namjoon looked amused. “Tae, I was discharged three days ago. I spent it sleeping and fixing up my apartment.”

“Right, right,” he said, staring studiously into his glass of whisky as if the amber-coloured liquid could tell him the secrets of life.

“How’s Y/N?” Yoongi piped up. Of course, he would be the one to bring you up first. For all his bitching and moaning when Taehyung adopted you, he quickly grew the most attached, and the feeling was mutual. He was your very favourite oppa after Taehyung, and sometimes – like when Taehyung has no choice but to discipline you – he was pretty sure Yoongi was your favourite.

“She’s fine,” Taehyung said, aiming for the innocent enthusiasm he used to have when talking about you, but from the way Namjoon’s eyebrow went up, he knew he’d failed.

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon asked slowly.

Taehyung gulped. The jig was up. Curse his inability to hide his feelings. Well, no matter. If pretending like everything was okay at home wasn’t going to work, there was always good old avoidance.

“Yes, everything’s fine!” he exclaimed a little manically, knocking back the rest of his drink in one gulp. “I’m going to hit the dance floor,” he said, making his escape quickly.

The others, a little surprised, didn’t react, letting him leave, although they exchanged suspicious glances. Something was up with Taehyung; he’d made that obvious enough.

Stepping onto the dance floor, he saw Jungkook in one corner getting hot and heavy against a wall with his chosen companion for the night, and he sighed enviously. He wished he could still do that. It wasn’t that they were afraid someone would go to the press – this club really was exclusive, and only celebrities and the ultra-wealthy (read: chaebol relatives) could even enter the club, so discretion would be guaranteed by both parties.

Instead, it seemed that as his attraction for you grew, his ability to find other, more suitable hybrid women attractive… diminished. Which was another pretty significant part of the problem that he didn’t even know how to address. He’d tried hooking up with hybrids over the past couple of weeks, but none of them ever smelled right. There was always something that felt a little bit off that prevented him from taking things further with them, no matter how much he might want to.

He was going crazy, he was sure of it. How could his sexual attraction be focused completely on one human woman? There was no way that this was okay.

He just had to hide it from others. He didn’t know what he was going to do about it yet, and it wasn’t like he didn’t trust his brothers, but this was a little different, and as much as he wouldn’t blame them, he couldn’t imagine the judging or pitying looks they would direct at him if he told them what was going on with his life.

No, better to keep it to himself for the time being.

His resolve seemed, unfortunately, alcohol-soluble. When the night ended, Taehyung returned to his apartment, saw that his bed was empty and immediately turned around to go to your room, where you’d settled in for the night since you weren’t sure what time he would come back, if he came back at all – hey, you weren’t one to judge. Spotting the human-shaped lump under the covers of your bed in the darkness, he stumbled over to the bed and lifted the covers to slide in.

It was then that Taehyung discovered that those cute camis and pajama pants that shouldn’t drive him crazy but did were you dressing more modestly than usual for bed, out of consideration for him. Because tonight, you weren’t wearing pants.

His brain seemed to short-circuit as he stared at your panty-clad ass, but he must have lifted the covers for too long because the cold started to make you stir as you turned over, patting the area around you looking for the blanket. Not finding anything to grab on to, your eyes opened slowly, and you squinted up at Taehyung.

“Oppa?” you croaked. “You’re back.” Clearing your throat, you reached for your phone on the bedside table. “What time is it?”

He groaned as he watched the way your body stretched out as you turned away from him. “You smell so good,” he whined, flopping down on the other side of the bed, and squirming close to you.

You allowed him to press himself against you, knowing that he was a needy drunk. This wasn’t exactly new for you – Taehyung didn’t get drunk as often as his other members did, but he still did occasionally, and you’d been with him for so many years now that you had a routine by now.

“Oppa… are you still dressed?” you whined as your bare skin came into contact with his jeans. You hissed in displeasure as the cold metal on his belt buckle pressed against your thigh.

“…No,” he said unconvincingly after a moment.

You squirmed out of his grasp, and he let out a forlorn whine that reminded you of his animal half. “Come on, you should get changed at least, you won’t sleep well in your clothes. I’ll go get your pajamas, okay?”

“Nooo,” he made grabby hands at you. “Don’t leave.” He pulled you back into his embrace, pressing his face into your throat. “You smell so good,” he slurred, rubbing his face against you.

You giggled at the ticklish sensation, resisting the urge to push him away. “At least take your pants off, okay?” you negotiated. “I have some water here, you should have some before you go to sleep…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for the bottle you always kept on your bedside table, and his head fell to the pillow with a soft thump as you pulled away. His eyesight was far better than yours, and he took the opportunity to stare at you while you weren’t able to notice it.

While he drank, you wriggled yourself back into the bed, blinking sleepily in the dark as you listened to the rhythmic sound of him gulping down the water. When he’d had enough, he started to lay down, and you quickly intervened. “No, you can’t sleep in your clothes!”

He laughed in response. “You’re very eager to take my pants off, love,” he teased.

Your whole body flushed with heat and you drew back, sulking. “Fine, sleep in your clothes, then. Just don’t complain in the morning,” you snapped, turning over to go to sleep.

Instead of doing the same, Taehyung scooched closer and threw an arm around you. “Don’t be like that, baby,” he purred. “I was just teasing. I’ll take off whatever you want me to,” he promised.

Hearing him speak to you in that tone, though, had you all kinds of worked up. It wasn’t unusual for him to call you baby – he’d always used that pet name on you, and Yeontan and all his other pets as well. It was just the way he’d said it… it reminded you of the way your ex back in Geochang used to talk to you when he was horny. And you found, to your shame, that you’d reacted to it with a small shiver.

That couldn’t be right, though. Humans and hybrids weren’t compatible in that way. You’d just been reminded of Jong-in in that moment – even though you’d broken up, it had been amicable, and you’d always enjoyed physical intimacy with him; it was a natural reaction.

While you were busy rationalizing it to yourself, though, the scent of your arousal hit Taehyung and he pressed himself closer with a groan. “Why do you smell so amazing, Y/N-ie?” he asked, pushing his nose insistently into the crook behind your ear. Unfortunately, his belt buckle pressed into the strip of skin on your lower back exposed by the way your camisole rode up.

“Agh,” you cried out in displeasure, squirming away from him. “It’s cold!”

“What? What’s cold, baby?”

“Your belt,” you heaved out, and his hands immediately went to it.

“Okay, it’s going,” Taehyung responded placatingly, undoing it and throwing it onto the ground beside the bed. Now that he’d gotten started, his pants were quick to follow, being scrunched into the corner of the bed under the covers where he’d kicked them, and his button-down shirt. Finally, clad in just his boxers and undershirt, he relaxed into the mattress, and you cuddled close, satisfied now.

“Good night, oppa,” you murmured as you slotted yourself into your usual spot in his side, your eyes drifting shut as you clutched his shirt in your fist.

He mumbled something indistinct in response, but you could feel his hand resting on your back, and you went to sleep peacefully.

(line break)

Taehyung woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own, half-dressed, and was confused for a moment, wracking his brain for memories of last night. Had he finally managed to get some?

Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he propped himself up on his elbow and peered around, realizing that it was your room. So he hadn’t broken his dry spell, then. Damn.

Pushing the covers away, he meandered out of your bedroom to the kitchen, where you were already working on some hangover breakfast for him. “Good morning,” you chirped, turning away from the stove to point at the glass of water and hybrid painkillers you’d laid out for him. “In case you feel bad,” you explained.

He sat down and downed the water, ignoring the painkillers – he didn’t feel that bad – as he took you in. You’d put some pants on, and a cardigan over the camisole you’d worn to bed, and tied your hair back in a messy ponytail. As a hybrid, he naturally ran warmer than you, so during winters you made sure to pile the layers on to remain warm.

This line of thinking triggered a memory of you squealing in protest at the cold metal of his belt buckle touching your skin last night, and he paled as he remembered how inappropriately he’d acted with you. He watched you carefully, but you seemed the same as always, and he wasn’t sure if he should just pretend it never happened or apologize for it.

When you deemed the yukgaejang ready and took it off the stove to serve together with two bowls of freshly cooked rice, his guilt at how boorishly he’d treated you last night overwhelmed him and he blurted, “About last night – ”

You looked up from the drawer where you were picking the utensils out. “Yeah?”

“Um… about what I said…” he trailed off awkwardly.

“Oh, you mean the scent thing? Don’t worry, I get it,” you laughed it off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “It’s because of the pack bond, right?”

“The what?” Completely confused, he just stared at you as you poured some soup into your rice.

“The pack bond? I read about it, that some hybrids can form pack bonds with the people around them. Like you did with the other members, or your pets, I guess,” you said, shrugging.

Instead of responding immediately, Taehyung chose to shovel a huge mouthful of stew and rice into his mouth to give him more time to think about how to respond. You’d given him the perfect cop-out for any overly affectionate behavior he might display. He was sure you didn’t know enough about hybrid pack behaviours to actually call him out on his lies.

“Y- yeah, that’s it,” he said, the visible relief on his face making you smile at him cheerily, your triumph at guessing correctly written all over your face.

As you both went back to eating, you felt something that had tensed up inside you last night unclench. It was just the pack bond. You could stop thinking about it, and you wouldn’t misinterpret anything anymore.

Returning to the studio to work on their comeback was a relief for Taehyung. For one thing, it meant that he would be spending most of his time away from you and your maddening scent. For another, he’d worried (perhaps needlessly, given the outpouring of support and congratulations on their social media when they were each discharged) that they wouldn’t be relevant anymore and he would be out of a job.

He’d also really missed his brothers, and was excited to work with them again.

However, what he hadn’t anticipated was that they’d missed you just as much as him, and you felt the same way. Every evening when he came home you were there, waiting for fun stories about the other members, and they pestered him incessantly for updates about you or, better yet, pictures or videos, or best of all, bringing you to the studio.

Since you basically begged for the same thing, he’d pretty much had no choice.

You chattered on excitedly from the front seat of his car as he drove to the studio. It was unbearably early, but that didn’t seem to deter you. Most mornings you were the one who woke him up anyway, since you were by far the most patient out of the members and producers. Even without you being there most days, the members knew that any time Taehyung showed up for practice on time and awake it was because of your efforts.

You fairly skipped from the carpark all the way to the studio where the boys were supposed to be working today, dragging Taehyung along in your wake. You knew the building like the back of your hand by now, having spent much of the time you’d been with Taehyung here. Even the boys from TXT knew you, and often kept snacks and things in their studios for you when you dropped by.

Reaching the corridor where the studio was located, you ran down it and burst into the studio, a ball of almost frenzied energy. “Hi!” you cried exuberantly, causing the current occupants of the room to look up at you. Almost all the members were there, sans Yoongi and, of course, Taehyung, who was following you at a more sedate pace, and they grinned at you.

“Y/N!” Jungkook leapt up from his seat and rushed over to you, and as you hugged him he picked you clean off the floor to swing you around, giggling. The tiger hybrid’s ears flicked excitedly as he took you in. “Don’t you look pretty today?” he cooed, rubbing his cheek over the top of your head. You stood still to let him, used to all the members attempting to scent you since it was basically an affectionate gesture.

“Thank you, Kookie-oppa,” you said politely, smiling up at him.

“You’re such a polite girl,” Seokjin complimented you, pulling a Tupperware of your favourite spicy baby octopus out of his bag. When Taehyung had texted them last night that you would be coming today, he’d immediately gotten to work preparing some of your favourite snacks.

“Ooh, thank you, Seokjin-oppa!” you sang as you stood to take it from him – with both hands, of course, and accompanied by a deep bow.

“Don’t you mean Seokjin-samchoon?” Jungkook ribbed, causing the hyena hybrid to snarl at him.

By the time Taehyung entered the room, you were sandwiched between Namjoon and Jimin, happily sharing your food with them, while Jungkook and Seokjin were playfighting, Hoseok egging both of them on. He sighed as he headed to the last empty couch and dropped down on it heavily, used to the chaos of his members.

“Where’s Suga-hyung?” Taehyung asked, looking around.

You shrugged. “Probably still in bed,” you responded to the amusement of everyone in the room.

Unfortunately for you, the man in question walked through the doors just in time to hear your remark, and he scowled. “For your information,” he bit out acerbically, “I was in my studio. I’m not Jimin,” he said, rolling his eyes, even as he bent down in front of you and opened his mouth for the proffered mouthful of food you were holding in your chopsticks for him.

“Hey!” Jimin protested. “I thought we were past that.”

“Never,” Taehyung promised, and you giggled. To ease the sting of his members teasing him, Jimin aggressively scented you, and you leaned into him to facilitate it.

Taehyung, observing your interaction with the other hybrid, tried not to show his irritation on his face, mostly because he knew it was ridiculous to feel that way. When you’d first come to live with them, the others had been cautious about getting their scents on you, just in case it was something that bothered him, but he’d made sure to assure them that he didn’t mind. After all, all of them were pack. It made sense for them to smell like each other, and it had even comforted him sometimes when you came to him drenched in the scents of his members.

Now that your scent was different, though, he didn’t like it as much when the other members rubbed up against you. It was a shameful, terrible feeling to be possessive over you like that, and he noted somewhat wryly that he could add it to the list. He really hadn’t been a paragon of virtue when it came to you recently.

When the boys started working, you pulled out the book you were currently reading and settled in. By now, you knew how to entertain yourself when at the studio, and tuned them out for the most part. As a result, you didn’t notice the way Taehyung’s attention would drift over to you instead of his members, but Namjoon did.

The older man raised his brow as Taehyung stared at you, sitting on a couch in the corner of the studio, instead of listening to the melody that Yoongi had just been working on. This was uncharacteristic of Taehyung, to say the least, and though as a leader he was somewhat annoyed at Taehyung’s inattention, he was also worried, remembering how strangely the wolf hybrid had acted the other night. He was still watching Taehyung out of his peripheral vision when he saw Taehyung catch himself staring, shake his head and frown.

He followed Taehyung’s gaze to you, wondering what it was that had captured Taehyung’s attention. You seemed unaware of it, turning the page on your book and continuing to read with a soft, relaxed expression, eagerly devouring the page. He couldn’t detect any differences, either – aside from the fact that you’d grown a little and carried yourself differently, you were much the same as you were when they’d left for the army.

Still, there must be some explanation for Taehyung’s sudden change in behavior, and he ran his eyes over your face more closely, watching for any hints.

Unfortunately, Taehyung, looking up from his notes, saw Namjoon staring at you, and before he could stop it, he growled at the wild dog hybrid. A second later, he realized what he’d just done, and shame flooded him. He got up so suddenly that the chair he was sitting in rolled away, bumping against the studio board, and fled the room.

Immediately, you put your book down and got up, ready to follow him to ask what had gotten him so upset, but Namjoon stopped you. “I’ll go talk to him,” he assured you, and looking up at the serious set of his jaw, you nodded, knowing that Taehyung was in good hands.

Namjoon found Taehyung in the restroom, bracing himself against the sinks with his head bowed. Hearing the door open and able to identify his leader by his scent, Taehyung’s hands tightened.

“You doing okay?” Namjoon asked mildly, leaning against the restroom door.

“Go away,” Taehyung grumped without moving.

“Tae, I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting weird since we came back from the military. Tell me what’s going on, please?”

“Nothing’s going on, everything’s fine,” Taehyung denied, his voice becoming increasingly whiny.

“Tae, come on. We’re brothers, you can tell me what’s up.” Namjoon went over to the wolf hybrid and rested his hand on his shoulder.

Resolutely, Taehyung stayed silent.

Left with no other recourse, Namjoon started guessing. “Is it because your heat is coming soon?”

Taehyung’s head shot up, and he stared at Namjoon in the mirror. “My what?”

Namjoon quirked his brow at the younger man. “Your heat?” he prompted. “The one you’ve had once a year for about ten years now?”

Taehyung paled. With all that had been going on with you, he’d totally forgotten about it. Fuck. He was not going to get through this heat alive.

[acciomalfoy]

the way the planets align (fred weasley x reader)

A/N; this fic is @fromashescomephoenixes child and i assisted in raising it :) so go check her out rn cos she is wonderful!

summary: y/n grew up alongside her two bestfriends, but life had other plans when y/n moved to france when she was 11. prior to the triwizards tournament, fred and y/n are forced to face the lives they lived, and the radio silence of the past year has an explanation afterall.

word count: a whopping 7.5k

-

It’s funny, really. How quickly life can pick you up, and how quickly life can throw you back down.

 “Faster!” I had screamed as the wind rushed through my hair. I remembered this moment the most. With the wind rushing through my hair and knotting it like nothing else, I felt like I was an eagle all the way up here. My nest? Quite simple really. The boy sitting in front of me. 

 Reality though, was quite different. I was on one of the Weasley’s seven brooms, and Fred was sat in front of me. I hadn’t met many quidditch players, but I already knew that Fred was a damn good one. We had had a plan, you see. Once we arrived at Hogwarts, we were going to become the youngest quidditch players ever. We had it all planned out..  

Fred began his descent to the ground in a swift plunge, and I clutched onto him tightly. If I made it to the ground, I was going to murder the idiot. 

 “Freddie!” I yelled out, and he only laughed.

 “Don’t worry y/n! I’m the best quidditch player of all time,” He yelled back, and I wasn’t quite sure what occurred in that moment, but as soon as Fred slowed down his descent by a fraction, I knew I was in for it. 

 “Sure you are,” I giggled. “Although I’m slightly better,” The wind caught Fred’s response to this, so I never heard it. Looking back, I wonder what he had said. For once, everything seemed perfect. When we reached the ground, I was torn between kissing the ground and wishing I was still flying with Fred.

 “I’ll never get sick of flying like that,” Fred smiled. The summer had made his freckles stand out even more than usual. I grinned back at him as we raced into the burrow.  

 “Darling y/n!” Molly greeted me cheerfully. “I haven’t seen you in ages! It must have been at least two hours,” she teased in a loving tone, and I could only grin back at her.

 “I missed you!” Ginny cheerfully chimed in as she gave me a hug. I waved to her and gave her a hug while Fred and George grabbed a couple of pumpkin pasties out of the cupboard.

 “Good afternoon y/n,” Percy greeted me as he peered over the top of his book. He was wearing strange glasses, which he swore he needed but Fred and George said he simply fancied that they made him look more grown up.

 “Er, hello!” I cheerfully replied. Percy always seemed so much more grown up than Fred and George and I, that I almost felt awkward talking with him.

 “Oh!” I remembered suddenly. “Would it be okay if Fred and George come over to my house for dinner tonight?” I asked Molly. Percy glanced up, but quickly resumed his uninterested reading.

 “Please mum!” Fred and George begged one unison. They liked my house because mum always made dessert. Although George always liked to tease me by saying Fred likes dinner anywhere that I was. I didn’t mind that idea, in fact it only made me blush, but I knew George was joking. Molly nodded her approval and we ran out the door, eager to spend the afternoon in the sun. 

 We began our hike to our absolute favourite picnic tree, where the sun was softly filtering through the leaves of the forest. We were by no means quiet as we joked and laughed our way through the woods.

 Finally we reached our picnic tree. I was the first to shimmy up the ladder. We had found the tree about three years ago, and from then on it became our hideout. The tree had such a huge trunk that even with all three of us we couldn’t get our arms around it! The trunk split into three large branches about eight feet off of the ground, and grew on from there.

 “We’ll have to find a new hideout at Hogwarts,” I sighed, but spoke loudly enough so they could hear me down the ladder.

 “I bet there’s some sort of secret room we could use!” Fred suggested eagerly.

 “Or we could just stinkbomb whatever room we want, and then no one else would want to use it!” George suggested as he popped his head over the top of the ladder.

 “Yeah, but I don’t know if I could even get used to that scent,” I wrinkled my nose in memory of the one we set off last Christmas.

 “Ah true,” Fred sighed. “Bet there’s a charm for that issue though!” We giggled and continued to talk about our plans for Hogwarts. We’d all be going next year, although I was still waiting for my letter since my birthday wasn’t until the next week. 

 -

 Dinner was certainly memorable that night. Fred, George and I walked back with about fifteen minutes to spare. They ran across the lane to get changed in time for dinner. I put on my favourite maroon dress and dashed downstairs just in time to hear the doorbell.

 “Hey guys!” Their marching grind beamed towards me and we sat down to a delicious dinner of homemade pizza. I should have noticed something was up, because we only ever had homemade pizza like that when there was big news. At the tender age of 10, this was the worst news I had ever received.

 “Are you boys excited for Hogwarts?” My mum had asked Fred and George. Of course, this launched us all into our carefully laid out plan. This extended to everything from what house we would be in, to what desserts we would eat on the first night.

 “Well, we have some exciting news,” My dad began. I glanced up, curious if my letter had arrived early or something. Unfortunately I was a bit preoccupied by a bit of cheese that was extra gooey on my pizza.

 “You’ll all get to experience two wizarding schools! In a way at least,” Mum announced this and we all instantly wanted to cheer. Secretly I hoped she would say we were all going on a gap year to Durmstrang. There was something so mysterious about it!

 “We’ve enrolled y/n at Beauxbatons as we’ll be moving there in August!” Dad positively beamed towards us all. Obviously they expected a rush of excitement about this, but what were we meant to say? I stared at my mother.

 “Without Fred and George?” My mom nodded a little sadly to confirm my worst fear.

 “But I’m sure you could all write letters or something!” My dad piped up. I felt like crying, but I couldn’t cry in front of Fred and George. Well, I could. They’d be very supportive, but I didn’t want to show them just how upset I was about it.

 “Excuse me,” I pushed aside my plate and left. I bounded up the stairs to my room, which was decorated with Holyhead Harpies posters. In a matter of moments my world had come crashing down. Beauxbatons was in France for Merlin’s sake! I would be completely and utterly alone. I sighed quietly, and opened up my window, leaning against the window sill. 

 It was quiet for a long time, the only sound I could hear being my own shallow breath as I tried to control my tears. A freckle covered arm nudged mine, and when I looked to my right I saw my best friend.

 “You know that nothing will change, right?” He asked quietly, and I laughed humorlessly.

 “Everything will change, Freddie. I can’t abuse Snape with you guys, or be the youngest chaser on the quidditch team. I want to go to Hogwarts.” I leaned my head on Fred’s shoulder, and he let out a long breath.

 “We can write to each other every week. Yeah, we can do that. Everything will be the same, nothing could tear us apart.” It was quiet again.

 “You promise?” I whispered, and he entwined his pinkie finger with mine.

 “I promise.”

••••

 Fred had fucking lied, I thought bitterly. We were sixteen now, and the letter exchanging had fallen through two years ago. I felt resentment rising in my chest, but I knew it was no one’s fault. It’s just the way that things unfold. Now, as I stood outside the Great Hall I had dreamt of entering my entire life, I had to still my hands as they involuntarily shook. I had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to even be afraid of really, and yet I couldn’t stop my heart from clouding my judgement as it always had as a child. Maybe there was just something about Fred that made me lose all inhibitions. 

 “Now!” Madame Maxine shrieked, and the doors flew open with a resounding bang. There was a split second where we froze, the eyes of Hogwarts on us. It wasn’t until the older girls flew forward did the rest of us, and without even seeing him I just knew where Fred was sitting.

 Something about a sixth sense, our parents used to say. I was Fred’s twin instead of George, with how finely tuned our minds were. We were always able to sense when something had happened to the other, or pinpoint the exact location of one another despite being apart. 

 I willed myself to look away from the flurry of red robes in the centre table. Knowing my luck, I would see a Weasley with questions written all over their face. It was something I couldn’t handle right now. Something that maybe I would never be able to handle. I curtseyed when I was supposed to, eyeing a yellow-robed boy who winked at me, and we continued marching forward.

 I knew that the house of courage was the next house to be curtseyed to, and I decided that if I had gone to Hogwarts, I definitely wouldn’t have made it into that house. I stared at the ground as I curtseyed and continued forward. During the dance we performed I was looking at the roof or the ground, anywhere but the sea of students in front of us. We hurried to the side, and I made the fatal mistake of looking into the crowd.

 Right into the eyes of a smiling Fred Weasley. 

••••

I sat down angrily at the Ravenclaw table. I’m not sure if anger was the right word for what I was feeling. But really how else am I supposed to describe the heartbreak, the sense of loss, and fear I felt. It was all too much. I simply couldn’t stand being in the same room as him. Especially as it was the hall we had so expertly planned our pranks, and conversations, and lives for. 

 What hurt the most, quite possibly, was knowing that there had never been a relationship to begin with. I wasn’t sure how old I was when I realised Fred was definitely better looking than most, and at some point during our letter exchange I had begun to fall for my friend. 

 “Y/n?” My friend Marie nudged me. “You looked beautiful out there!” She encouraged me eagerly, seeing that I was incredibly quiet.

 “Merci, Marie.” I managed a small smile towards her. “I just feel a bit out of place,” I shrugged. 

 “Well, I’m sure any number of boys here are eager to make sure we feel right at home,” Marie wiggled her eyebrows towards me as I let out a small laugh. I rolled my eyes before picking up a fork. “What about...” Her eyes scanned the room for a minute.

 “That one!” She pointed towards the Gryffindor table. I nearly choked on my piece of potato when I saw that of all the boys in the room, she had picked him...

 Fred Weasley’s eyes burned into mine again. I couldn’t stand it a moment longer and I murmured a quick excuse before rising from the table and leaving the hall hurriedly.

••••

When making the choice of leaving the hall, I had forgotten one thing. I didn’t know my right from left in this fucking castle. Everything was dimly lit, and there were endless corridors and nooks that aided in my getting hopelessly lost. I could vaguely recall the halls from Hogwarts: A History, but that had been six, seven years ago. 

 Eventually, I gave up and collapsed into a secluded corner. All things considered, there could have been a worse spot to allow four years of harsh feelings catch up to me. The starlight dimly illuminated by shaking hands, and bounced off of my silvery blue skirt. It was altogether peaceful, apart from my soft shuddering sobs. 

 “Hey,” a voice suddenly broke the secrecy of my break down.

 “Fred, I don’t want to see you right now.” I groaned. His warm brown eyes and soft freckles were too much. They still made my heart flutter and my head spin. As if I was soaring through the air on my broom again, a little girl having a crush on a little boy.

 “What? Why not?” He asked, flabbergasted. I turned the other way, and began to trace the soft patterns of my wand, as I often did when I was nervous. 

 “We’re not friends anymore. You clearly forgot me.” I accused him. It felt good to finally see him and show him how awful he had been to stop writing.

 “You’re the one who stopped writing to me!” He fired back, and I slowly shook my head. He had ignored my letters for over a year and had the nerve to lie to my face about it. 

 “Go. Away.” I coldly turned, and positively bolted down the hall. The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. Letters had begun growing scarce around our third/fourth year, and it was seemingly reasonless. The trail had truly gone cold at the end of our fourth year, and that was when the real heartbreak had set in. What a time to be alive. 

••••

“George, did you keep writing to y/n?” Fred was sprawled on one of the many lounges in the Gryffindor common room, while George was lying at his feet. 

 “No, we never even started writing to each other,” He shrugged. Y/n and George had never been quite as close, and they naturally fell out of touch when she moved. 

 Fred pulled a crumpled piece of parchment out of his robe pocket, and lovingly smoothed it out.

 “She stopped writing to me in fourth year.” Fred whispered. At this George sat bolt upright. The thought of Fred and Y/n not being best friends was a startling one, one that had never come across his mind. 

 “What do you mean?” George asked, clearly stunned. His twin and y/n had written weekly for as long as he could remember. “Why didn’t you check if it got lost?” Fred shook his head.

 “I did George,” He held up the crumpled paper he was holding. His pained expression was almost too much for the twin to bare. “I wrote four fucking times. This one was going to be my last hope,” He crumpled it back up, and shoved it into a pocket dejectedly. 

 “Oh Fred...” George sighed. “I suppose a prank on Gin is out of the question then?”  

 “I can’t right now.” Fred ribbed his face in his hand. He felt so lost and confused after his encounter with y/n. How could she have thought he would ever want to stop writing to her? Something must have happened to the letters, but he felt like he must be kidding himself if he thought that 5 different letters could get lost. Errol wasn’t that old, was he? 

••••

I dressed quickly in the morning in my pale blue, silky uniform. Although I still sometimes wished that I had gone to Hogwarts, I had to say that the Beauxbatons uniform was much better. As I exited the dormitory I bumped into my friend Maurice who had just exited his dormitory.

 “Salut!” Maurice greeted me cheerfully as we fell into step beside each other. 

 “Quoi de neuf?” I muttered. Though we all mostly spoke English around each other, we also had fun, shorter chats in French. At Beauxbatons they taught most classes in English, except for potions since it was so precise and they couldn’t risk as translational mix up. 

 “You okay y/n?” Maurice asked, pausing and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Aunty Lisa told me to keep an eye on you,” I sighed. Of course, mother would set my cousin on my tail to make sure I didn’t stress. 

 “Never better,” I grinned. “I might, er, run to the bathroom before breakfast,” I turned and threw a wave towards Maurice before I left. I hurried down a random corridor and hoped I’d be able to find a hufflepuff or something to show me to the great hall later.

 For now, I didn’t pay any attention to where I was going as I slowly walked around. I let my eyes drink up the lovely sights of Hogwarts. It was still sinking in that I was finally seeing it, even if I was seeing it under much different circumstances than I had hoped. I ducked away into a corridor as I heard hurried footsteps coming up behind me. Unfortunately I had misjudged, and they were coming towards me, not passing me. 

 “Y/n?” I heard a voice that I vaguely recognised, but couldn’t place. “What are you doing here?” After a moment of thought I finally placed the voice to Percy Weasley. 

 Bloody hell, of the hundreds of student in the castle it seemed I’d only ever meet the Weasleys. 

 “Hello Percy,” I mustered up as much cheerfulness as I could and I tried to walk past him. He grabbed my arm, and I was forced to stop and converse with him.

 “Well!” He smiled broadly, “How have you been?” Clearly he had a much different memory of how close we had been, because he was acting about ten times kinder than I’d expect. 

 “Really well, thank you.” I turned my lips up, hoping to achieve a smile. “Are you hoping to participate in the tournament?” 

 “Oh heavens,” He laughed in a very uptight manner. “No, no. I work for the ministry now.” He said with an air of self importance. 

 “Well, congratulations.” I spoke, with a hint of sarcasm and I made to excuse myself.

 “Would you like me to walk you to breakfast?” I cringed as my escape was foiled. 

 “Er, actually, I was heading to my dorm.” I lied on the spot, cursing the sound of my grumbling tummy. 

 “Oh! Which tower are you in?” I again cursed my poor lie. Thankfully, I was saved (or further doomed) by Fred coming around the corner. 

 “Y/n! Can we please talk?” Fred sprinted towards me and grabbed my hand. I saw some sort of emotion flicker cross Percy’s eyes as I shouted good bye and followed Fred. I laughed once we turned a corner.

 “Thanks Freddie,” I grinned a moment, forgetting I was meant to be angry with him. One more look at his honey brown eyes sent the negative emotions straight into my heart, however. “I’ll be going now,” I began to leave haughtily.

 “No. You won’t.” Fred begged. “Please let me talk to you.” I nearly yielded, but couldn’t stand the idea of my heart broken again with excuses of why my friendship wasn’t worth it. 

 “I can’t talk to you, Fred. Merlin, it hurts for me to even look at you. It’s heartbreak if I’ve ever known it.” I whispered quietly before racing away. Somehow I ended up in the Great Hall, with snot and tears on my face. 

 Before entering, I gently cleaned my face with a charm, and reapplied the natural makeup I had on. Determined to brave the hall before risking running into another Weasley, I calmly walked towards the Ravenclaw table.

 “Oh Marie,” I groaned. It was I could do to keep my composure and not sprawl my head onto the table. Luckily, as my best friend she was able to see this. She patted my back gently, and placed a fresh chocolate croissant on my plate. “Thank you” I smiled. 

 “Of course,” She smiled back towards me. “Did you get lost?” She giggled slightly. 

 “More hopelessly than you could ever know!” To her this would seem like dramatic flair, however I truly felt lost at heart. Unsure how to proceed between Fred’s excuses, Percy’s kindness, and the stress of possibly entering the tournament. I wanted to believe that Fred was telling the truth about the letters, but it didn’t add up.

 The last letter I had sent before Fred stopped writing had been a special one. I had been unable to hold in my feelings towards him any longer. At the end of the letter I had explained that I loved him. Not in the sisterly, or friendly way that I had previously led him to believe. But a real love. 

 Of course he stopped writing. I couldn’t blame him. But I had hoped that he wouldn’t let in stop our friendship. It had hurt. It still hurt, because even though I was young I also knew more than ever that I loved Fred. 

--

“I heard that a ministry official is going to ask you to the ball, y/n.” Marie whispered in that way of hers, and I stared aghast.

“What? Surely that’s illegal.” I whispered back, and Madame Maxine stared at us over the rim of her glasses. I swallowed before picking up my quill.

“Nothing’s illegal for ministry officials, silly. Have you heard of Percy Weasley before?” I froze. Percy fucking Weasley. 

“No, I haven’t. He sounds like a proper nonce.” Marie and I broke into peels of laughter, and another look from Madame silenced us. 

“Will you say yes?” Marie had long mastered the ability to speak with her mouth closed, and had tried in vain to teach me.

“Absolutely not.” I replied, and the sounds we heard for the rest of the lesson were quill scratching parchment and our headmistresses voice. 

-- 

It was on my way to another lunch in the gardens that I was ambushed by arguably my favourite Weasley.

“Hey Georgie.” I couldn’t help the old nickname fall from my lips, and he smiled at me.

“I’ve missed you.” He said, and I smiled sadly.

“I’ve missed you too, silly. I assume you didn’t find me for pleasantries though. You were never the most tactful Weasley, were you?” I laughed at the look of sheer outrage on George’s face, and he eventually chuckled.

“Rumour has it that you stopped talking to my brother a year ago.” He said, and I sighed.

“Fred stopped writing to me after I sent him a letter confessing how I felt about him. Take that as you will, but I took it as a clear rejection.” I took a deep breath, now able to say Fred’s name without falling into pieces. George stopped.

“What? Fred said you stopped talking to him, and I don’t like to think of my brother as a liar.” He said hotly, and I stared at him.

“Am I a liar, Georgie?” 

It was quiet for a long time.

“No, you’re not.” 

-

“Miss L/n!” I should have known that I couldn’t escape Percy Weasley. He was relentless, and I wondered if he knew what the word no meant.

“Hi, Percy. I’m actually on my way to class, I’m afraid.” I tried to end the conversation before it could begin, but no such luck.

“Perfect! I’ve been meaning to walk you to class for a while! Gentlemens chivalry and all.” He looped an arm under mine and I reluctantly started walking.

“Now that I’ve got you here, I wonder how you managed to rank top three in all of your classes. Naturally, I always ranked top five, but that’s mildly less impressive. I think it goes without saying that I topped most of my NEWT’s, but I’m still intrigued on what your methods are. There’s still plenty of learning and memorising that goes on at the Ministry, you see, and I think that you and I would make a great team. Who knows, maybe you can be my assistant when I’m Minister of Magic one day.” I tuned Percy out as quickly as I could. Really, I couldn’t think of anyone who would actually want to listen to Percy for five minutes, let alone the rest of his life. 

I thought wistfully of Fred during the walk to my class, and how much my heart ached at the mention of his name. Maybe I had been harsh on him. Suppose our letters had been lost in the post? It wasn’t unlikely, and it sure would explain why he seemed so confused and upset. 

“Well, this is my stop.” I interrupted him as he droned on and on and on and on and-

“It was a pleasure as always.” Percy picked up my hand and I tried not to gag as he kissed it. Was there anything quite as horrible as this was? I didn’t think so. Oh, maybe your best friend cutting contact with you after you confess your love to him. My life was going spectacularly.  

“See ya.” I darted inside the classroom, spying Maurice and Marie sitting by the door. 

“Hey, y/n.” They chorussed. I noticed with relief that Madame hadn’t arrived yet, and I slid into the seat beside Maurice.

“Salut.” I sat in silence thinking about how weird Percy was, when my breath caught in my throat.

I hadn’t been ranked top three in every class this year, and the last time I had been ranked top three must have been in fourth year. I recalled a quill in my hand as I wrote to Fred excitedly, and the emptiness I had felt upon not receiving a letter. Was it possible? 

I think it was about time I had another chat with George. 

-

“Where are you going George?” Fred glanced up, half interested. His gaze was still fixed on the list of products him and his brother were assembling.

 “Ah, just for a stroll,” George explained as he subtly picked up Fred’s robe instead of his own. The twin hardly nodded, as he became immersed once more in the list of clever tricks and treats they had assembled. George thanked Merlin for his good luck and slipped out the portrait hole.

 Once safely in the corridor, George felt around in the inner pocket to find what he was looking for. Thankfully, it was right where Fred had left it. As always. George pulled out the crumpled parchment, but didn’t dare to open it. It was too personal he had decided. He was simply acting as a messenger, he reminded himself.

 Y/n had invited George to meet her in the library after lunch. Thankfully, after being at the castle for nearly two months at this point, she knew her way around. Now, George thought, all that’s left to do is deliver a letter.

-

“George!” I hissed from a secluded corner of the library. This library was nice, but if I’m being honest I preferred the lighter atmosphere of the library at Beauxbatons.

 “Oh! Hello y/n, fancy seeing you here!” George teased and winked towards me. In return I rolled my eyes, but still had to suppress a giggle at his overused joke. 

 “Look I need to ask-“ I began to feel a little flustered.

 “How did I get my dashing good looks?” He ran a hand through his hair and struck a pose. 

 “No I-“ 

 “Sorry doll, I’m taken. But I have a twin!” George sent finger guns my way, and pretended to swagger away.

 “No! George!” As frustrating as it was, I had missed George’s little jokes. “Did you know Percy had a crush on me?” I questioned firmly. George’s jaw dropped open.

 “I mean-“ He ribbed his neck sheepishly “We used to suspect it in first and second year. But Fred beat him up about it and we thought that was that!” I buried my face in my hands, cringing at the very thought. Merlin’s soggiest sock couldn’t make this any worse. 

 “I think I know what happened,” I sighed. I felt defeated, and mean. I couldn’t believe the things I had said to Fred. How I’d brushed him away. Now the task at hand was talking to that Weasel that had ruined everything. 

 “Well, I don’t know exactly what conclusion you’ve reached,” George gently spoke. “But I think you should read this,” Before he left he pressed the folded, crumpled parchment into her hand. 

-

“George!” Fred sang out as soon as George entered their dorm room. “I have a plan!” He leaped from bed to bed in a happy spirit that often accompanies new hopes.

 “I’m going to ask y/n to the ball!” He exclaimed. George sighed, unsure how his brother thought this would instantly fix things. Luckily for Fred, George had pulled a few extra strings for the odds to be completely in his favour. 

-

“Marie!” I sobbed as she came into the dorm. This was probably not how she expected to find me tonight, and the shock on her face was obvious. 

 I had ripped the covers off of my bed and wrapped them around me like a large cocoon. Then I had promptly laid down and cried for the better part of an hour. At least it was a good test of my makeup setting charm.

 The letter is what did it. Oh! The letter! I cradled it ever closer to my heart as I sobbed again. He had written with all the heartbreak I had felt, with all the love I had felt, with all of the friendship I had felt. And it never got to me! Just as my letter never got to him!

 “He loves me Marie!” I gasped. “He wrote me five letters.” Marie, like the true friend she was, promptly crawled into the cocoon with me and began to rock me softly. 

 “Hush, mon caneton,” she whispered. I steadied my breathing and hugged her tightly. Thank goodness that we had both decided to come on this trip. I don’t know what I would have done without her.

 “I love him too,” I admitted. 

 “Well what are you waiting for?” Marie asked with a knowing look on her face, and I slowly nodded. She was right.

 “Go attack that little weasel.” I laughed in delight, and Marie gave me a soft shove out of our cocoon of blankets.

 “Go!” She repeated, and with another shove I stumbled out of our room. I had no clue where I would find a certain Percy Weasley at this hour, and I didn/t quite know where to begin. Only one person reminded me of Percy, and I figured I may as well head to his room.

 “Professor Snape.” I smiled politely as he opened the door after I knocked, and he merely scowled.

 “Pray tell me what you are doing outside of my classroom.” He sneered, and I stopped smiling.

 “Do you know where I can find-” I was rudely interrupted by none other than the man of the hour.

 “Miss L/n! How I’ve longed to see you!” Percy popped out from being Snape, and I found myself being guided away from the dungeons by the very person I wanted to slap.

 “I’m sure I have longed to see you more.” I said, and he squeezed my shoulder. I almost threw up, right then and there.

 “Why were you looking for me, my dearest?” I was two seconds away from punching the smarmy bastard in the face, and I took a deep breath.

 “I just wanted to let you know that if you ever try to come between Fred and I again, the letters you stole will be the least of your worries. I will ruin you, Weasley, and you better not forget it.” I snarled as I shoved his shoulder before walking off, and the stunned silence fueled my satisfaction.

 It was time to find my Weasley.

 Twenty minutes later and I couldn't find a trace of him. My heart sunk to my stomach. What if my coolness had finally gotten through and he had given up? Was he avoiding me? I slumped into my seat at dinner and leaned my head on Marie's shoulder.

 "I can't find him," I sighed. She reached over and patted my back while she swallowed her bite of quiche.

 "Well, he couldn't have gone too far!" She attempted to cheer me up. Out of habit, my eyes wandered over to the area where Fred and George usually sat. I raised an eyebrow as I found that their spots were empty. Loud footsteps behind me caught my attention and I snapped my head around the other way.

 Thank Merlin, it was George. He was jogging towards me and his robes flapped behind him.

 "Y/n!" He greeted me once he was within earshot. I waved and grabbed another piece of pizza.

 "You play quidditch at Beauxbatons, right?" Marie perked up beside me and grinned before proceeding to sing my praises.

 "She's only the best chaser I've ever seen! You should've seen last sea-" I cut her off, blushing furiously.

 "Yes. I play quidditch." I rolled my eyes.

 "Great, can you help me with something?" George begged. I nodded and followed him out of the room. The sun was just beginning to set, and the air was quite chilly. I wondered what he could possibly need help with at this time. Especially since quidditch had been cancelled this year!

 After we left the hall, and I was extremely puzzled what was happening I began to ask a few quesitons.

 "Do you know where Fred is? I can't find him," I asked George who looked completely bewildered.

 "Fred? No I have no idea!" His voice reached incredibly strange pitches and I realised quite quickly that he was lying.

 "So. What do you need my help with?" I suppressed a grin as I began to see what was happening.

 "Er," There was a pause while George thought of what exactly he had summoned me for. Luckily for him, Ron and Ginny were walking by at that exact moment. "Ron was thinking of trying out for keeper!" He explained desperately.

 Ginny's eyebrows shot up, and she slugged Ron in the arm.

 "Good for you little brother!" Ron's face burned red as they walked away and he began to make excuses.

 "Don't we need Ron for this then?" I grinned at George, and he began to mutter something under his breath.

 The rest of the walk passed relatively quickly as George and I caught up about everything that had happened since I moved. We easily fell into conversation thanks to Fred keeping us both updated on the other. Finally we arrived at the field.

 "Godric! I'm late for something." George looked at his non-existent watch and ran away before I could stop him.

 "What the hell?" I muttered as I began walking back to the exit of the quidditch pitch. Unfortunately, in my angry haze I tripped right over a broom that was lying on the grass. Gingerly, I picked it up, and paused. Why not, I thought, as I mounted the stray broom.

 "Y/n!" From a distance, I thought George had come back. I sped forward slightly, moving the broom precisely and smoothly to greet him. Of course, by 'greet' I meant cast a harmless hair changing charm. Luckily (for his sake,) I quickly noticed it was Fred. Unluckily (for my sake) I was now incredibly flustered and unsure what to say. I chanced a timid wave, and thanked Merlin when he returned it, equally timidly.

 "I'm sorry!" I instantly shouted, speeding down from my perch in the sky. I pulled out of the short dive just a few feet off of the ground.

 "No y/n," Fred shook his head "I'm sorry. I should have known you would never stop writing." He stared at his feet, looking ashamed. "Must've been that goddamn bird," He let out a nervous laugh, but continued to stare at the ground. I didn't want to bring Percy into this yet. He didn't deserve a place in what I hoped would become a treasured memory.

 "It wasn't your fault," My heart was breaking at the pain on his face. But how do you break this sort of news kindly? "I shouldn't have thought you would stop writing either, I just-" I trailed off, unsure what to say.

 "What was in that last letter you sent?" He asked glancing up. I paused, hopping off my broom. Fred followed in his actions, and our eyes finally met.

 "Wait, you never even saw it?" I knew that he'd most likely never seen it, but I had always imagined Percy had let him receive it at least. Little did I know the precision that Percy carried out his plans with.

 He had begun by snatching a letter here and there. Laying the foundation for doubt of each other's consistency of correspondence. He had saved the letters sent by me, burned the ones sent by Fred, and written his own imaginary replies. I had become an obsession for him. So much so that when he saw me this year, he thought we would instantly pick up where we had left off in his imagined reality.

 The day I had sent the letter to Fred. That all important letter. He had taken it and saved it for himself. Looking upon my words of love, and imagining they were from him. The thought of Percy receiving those words instead of Fred brought tears to my eyes.

 "No," He admitted.

 "I wanted to tell you-" I cut myself off. What if all Fred was searching was the friendship we had previously shared? I bit my tongue and held a silent debate until I finally plucked up my courage.

 "I love you," I let the sweet words fly away towards him. I hoped they'd be returned. That their fragile wings would be cradled, rather than crushed. A momentary surprise froze Fred. The stress of the situation made those few seconds feel like hours. Hours of anguish and feeling entirely exposed and unprotected. Finally, Fred sprang in to motion. He rushed towards me, as his lips found mine, my eyes fluttered closed. It was just Fred and I, the aligned planets watching as their plan fell into place. Fred tasted like strawberries and he sucked softly on my lip. I couldn’t help from running my hand through his messy hair, and I felt him grin into the kiss. 

 "Go to the Yule ball with me my darling?" He asked softly as we broke apart.

 "Of course my love," I let my head rest on his strong chest as we let the last flickers of sunset wash over us.

 The ball had approached much quicker than expected. Over the past two weeks, a lot had happened. First, I had explained to Fred what Percy had done. I didn't want to create a rift between the brothers, but it was the only way to fully explain and resolve the situation. Fred had looked very solemn, and confronted Percy who denied everything. Unfortunately for him, he carried around my last letter with him which was quite incriminating when we discovered it.

 Fred and I had hardly spent a moment away from each other.

 I had a periwinkle blue mini dress on, which hugged tightly around me. Over top, I had a sheer silvery blue gown that shimmered like stars as I moved. All of the Beauxbatons girls had picked something of the same color scheme, but this dress felt so me that I didn't mind. After curling my hair into delicate ringlets I helped Marie curl her hair and then we left.

 I took a deep breath as we glided down the stairs after Madam Maxine. I could hardly contain my excitement. My heartbeat felt similar to when I was anticipating a particularly good match of quidditch.

 Fred was standing there looking spectacular in his dress robes. He had charmed his tie to be a periwinkle blue, and he was holding a small bouquet of lavender flowers. The moment I smelled them, I remembered that moment with him on that broom. I remembered the rush of adventure, the hint of recklessness, but most importantly: the trust. I trusted him so much.

 He took my hand, and we silently walked into the ball. It almost felt too perfect. Too cliche, not unique enough for such a special story. Our story that we were writing one page at a time.

 After a few songs spent pleasantly dancing, laughing, and whispering lost words to each other I had an idea.

 "Freddie?" I whispered as I leaned my head onto his chest.

 "Mmm?" He swayed us gently to the sweet music.

 "Can we leave?" I asked. "I want to go on a broom with you again," I explained. His face softened and he took my hand as we walked to the quidditch pitch.

 Here we were. Up in the air again. I spread my arms, testing if my eagle wings were still there. They were. And as an eagle, I had finally reunited with my nest. I brought my wings back down to take hold of the broomstick. This time I was in control, and I'd had a bit more practice than 10 year old Fred had had. So, I sent us into a steep dive, almost until it felt like a free fall.

 After the rush of adrenaline I soared back up until we reached the roof of Gryffindor tower. I couldn't stop myself from imagining how many sleepless nights we could've spent talking here. How many breakfasts, and boring classes I could've spent with him.

 As I saw the moonlight softly reflect off of Fred's pale face I realised then and there. He was my soulmate. He was my perfect match. He was the person that I didn't want to spend a single minute without unless I absolutely had to.

 I told him so too.

 "Freddie," We were holding hands again as we laid on top of a soft blanket he had conjured to lay down on the roof. The incline of it was just barely safe to lay down on without sliding off. I didn't feel scared though, I had Fred to anchor me.

 "You look beautiful in the moonlight y/n," He turned his lively eyes towards me. I blushed and smiled slightly.

 "I love you so much," I began. He kept his eyes trained into mine. Giving me his full attention. "I don't want to lose you again, okay?" I took a somewhat shaky breath. " I just mean, the past couple weeks have felt like a dream.” I said, and Fred held my hand.

 “I know, pretty girl. You won’t lose me again, not if there’s anything I can do about it.” I squeezed his hand back, and we watched the night sky in all its glory.

 I was standing in my dorm room, nearly ready to leave when an owl flew into the window. Plonk, I realised it was poor Errol. It appeared he could hardly handle a flight around Hogwarts anymore. I tucked him into a small blanket and gave him an owl treat. He let out an appreciative coo and snuggled into the cozy nest I'd made. I unrolled the parchment, and twirled the sprig of lavender that had been in the ribbon between my fingers.

 Dearest y/n,

 Today you go back to Beauxbatons. I'm sorry I can't be there in person, but I'm happy to tell you everything is going really well.

 The shop looks amazing, although they can't have it ready for us until some time next year. I figure this will work well anyway since we still have a few more products to perfect. (Thanks for helping us with the antidote for the puking pastilles by the way!!)

 Also, the apartment will be perfect I think. We would be on one of the very top floors, so you might feel a bit at home given your talent for quidditch. It's close to diagon alley, but actually in muggle London, which I thought you might like. I said we'd take it within the next 8 months, since I'll obviously be leaving school before graduation and you'll be graduating in March.

 I hope the carriage ride is fairly nice. I know it won't be perfect since yours truly isn't there (wink wink) but I hope I'll be able to visit soon! I have to go for another surprise I'm working on, but I'll owl soon. I have my eye out for lovesick, letter stealing brothers this time!

 Yours forever and a day,

 Freddie

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Why do you think Tomarry would work? I see a lot of people hating on it and the only response I ever see is that they come from similar backgrounds or people just like enemies to lovers. Also which horcrux do you think Harry would go best with (including Voldemort)

So, this is probably a more complicated question than you intended, but that’s because I live in bizarre head canon lands that few ever dare venture towards.

With that, let’s get started.

But What Do You Really Ship, Muffin?

First, it probably bears saying that I’m not really a Tomarry shipper. I know, I’ve written more than one Tomarry story, so if that’s not Tomarry what is? Well, remember that those Tomarry pairing tags are a filthy lie. October I committed the grievous sin of breaking up the Tomarry and throwing Tom at Harry’s mother. Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus is barely a Harry Potter fic in any capacity, and while the ship is the driving force of the fic, it’s also this nebulous, distant, thing that really shows up only in strange side stories where I try to make people laugh. When Harry Met Tom is probably the closest that I take seriously, but I also intentionally subvert all your typical Tomarry tropes for my own enjoyment. 

The only Tomarry story I’d say I’ve ever actually written is “The Burning Taste of Fire Whisky”. It’s a very popular story, sadly perhaps my most popular on Ao3, but I actually loathe it entirely. 

A lot of the time I feel like I just happen to have a Tomarry shirt on and then I suddenly became a subject matter expert. If you want the Tomarry opinions from real Tomarry people, I’m probably not the best person to ask. In fact, if you want really any standard answer about Harry Potter anything, I’m not the best person to ask.

Now, I’m not just saying this to be a hipster but to sort of give some background for why I’m going to give the answer I’m going to give and why it’s going to be 100% different from everyone else’s and yes, sometimes, I do think I came from Mars.

Will the Real Tomarry Please Stand Up?

So with that, the bottom line is: taking canon as JKR intended, completely at face value, Tomarry doesn’t work at all. This is because JKR fully intends a very flat, one-dimensional, and frankly quite boring Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle’s evil, Tom Riddle was born evil, Tom Riddle was evil in the womb because of rape. He is completely and utterly irredeemable and understands nothing of love.

Well, that sort of sinks the ship right out of the harbor, doesn’t it? A Tom Riddle incapable of love is one incapable of growth, especially in a romantic focused story. If you try to write it you just get weird sociopathic whump porn where Tom probably whips Harry in a closet somewhere.

Added onto this we get that, despite what she put down on paper, Harry is supposed to be a straight man. That aside, he’s also a righteous man whose understanding of things like love and friendship mean he’d never sully himself with gross Tom Riddle. Ew, what are you people thinking?

Well, what if we take canon just mostly as JKR intended? What if we just look at the characters the way she actually wrote them versus what she was trying to do? Still no dice.

Tom might now be capable of love, be a far more engaging character who can go somewhere, and be pulled out of a pit of rage and despair by someone but that someone ain’t Harry.

First, while I firmly believe Harry is gay (gay, not bisexual, compare his descriptions of Cho/Ginny to Tom Riddle/Sirius Balck/Cedric Diggory/Charlie Weasley, that boy pants after Tom Riddle and Cho’s kiss is “wet”) he’s also a much worse person and much dumber character than JKR intended. It’s really the first that damns the pairing.

I have a whole giant post on how Harry’s a little yikes but the long and short of it is that while Harry thinks he understands friendship and love he’s also someone who will cut out his friends at a moment’s notice if he feels remotely slighted, uses and sacrifices them for his own ends, gleefully uses unforgiveable curses when given the opportunity, and is the kind of guy who would cut someone up in the bathroom, leave them to bleed to death, and only really feel bad about it when it seems he might get in trouble for it.

This Harry ending up even with a Tom who could potentially be redeemed would more likely lead to, well, weird psychopathic whump porn where Harry tortures Tom in his basement to make him pay for all the horrible things he’s done while Harry claims he’s the most moral person ever because his mother loved him.

So, yeah, no Tomarry for you.

But Wait, Didn’t You Say You Believed in Tomarry?

What I believe in are archetypes.

Remove what Harry’s supposed to be, remove what I think he actually is (one maladjusted, violent, dude with a whole lot of anger issues), let’s make Harry what perhaps JKR didn’t even know she wanted: one of those rare fundamentally good heroes who warps an entire story with the strength of their inner nobility.

Harry Potter is meant to be a story about love and friendship. Now, it’s not actually, and we sort of end with Harry being Jesus and none of us are sure why. Except that he apparently forgives Dumbledore and Snape for brainwashing him to be a kamikaze agent. They’re the bravest men he knows. But let’s pretend it actually is a story about love and friendship.

To me, the strongest story of love we could possibly have had in this world is the redemption of Tom Riddle. Here is a man who was supposed to have been irredeemable since birth, he has done many horrific and unforgiveable things, grew up in extreme hardship in a society that spits on everything he ever was, and is mired in bitterness, despair, and rage. Beneath all that, Tom Riddle has given up hope in the world and is now content to burn it down himself.

Harry, through the nobility of his spirit and integrity of his character, somehow managing to redeem Tom Riddle is not only a fascinating story but a very good one at its core. The fact that they are tied together by destiny as well as tragedy, that Harry houses a shard of Tom’s soul (and I do so love horcruxes), only makes it more so.

This is the kind of story that carries epics, and that is why I gravitate towards it.

Now, do I change Harry up to do so? Good god, yes. I wouldn’t say any Harry Potter I have written is anything close to the Harry we know from canon. Some are closer than others, but they always in some way deviate. That said, from what I’ve seen almost nobody writes the actual Harry we remember from canon, so this is a very standard practice I can get away with, without too many people calling foul.

Ultimately ending in tragedy or in the full redemption of Tom: either works with these base characterizations and the world is your oyster.

What About All Those Other Arguments?

I’m not going to get into this too much except that I wouldn’t argue Tomarry works for the reasons you list. At all.

On the similar backgrounds, the fact is Harry and Tom don’t have similar backgrounds, JKR just says they do because she likes that trope (and so do many of the readers).

Harry and Tom have dark hair, they both came from abusive homes, but that’s where the similarities start and end. Upon entering the wizarding world Harry is treated very very very differently from Tom Riddle.

Harry, grows up in this weird sort of pseudo poverty where he dresses in rags because the Dursley’s hate him but he never actually has to worry about money. When he gets to the wizarding world he can afford everything he wants. He can buy a new wand, he can buy new supplies, he can buy all the candy off the trolly cart. Money’s not an object to Harry, is barely even a concept.

Tom Riddle is presumably on scholarship and money is everything to him. He buys a new wand but likely all his clothes and books are second hand. He can’t buy whatever candy he wants, probably can’t afford gifts for his peers, Tom is very aware of the haves and have nots.

Harry similarly never has to worry about a career. He never gets that far, fearing for his life so much, but the fact is that Harry has enough money that he doesn’t actually need to work. More, who would turn down the great Harry Potter? He wants to be an auror, is afraid he might not qualify, but it’s not really desperate.

Tom Riddle is to the world an impoverished muggle born. He tries for the Defense position and is turned down mostly because Dumbledore threw shade. Dumbledore tries to make it seem like Tom desperately wanted to work in this weird shop in London’s magical back alley, but probably that was the only position Tom could get (everything Dumbledore ever says, especially in those pensieve lessons, must be taken with a large grain of salt). Everything else goes to friends, family, and purebloods.

Adding to this, Harry has this glowing reputation. Now, Harry might not like it, he might want to be just Harry but the fact is that everyone has heard of him and most people worship the ground he walks on. Doors are open to him everywhere. His first introduction to the wizarding world is from a man who loves him and gushes about Harry as a baby.

Tom Riddle is someone with a muggle last name, who comes from a muggle orphanage, in other words he is nobody from nowhere. (For reasons I won’t get into here I find it very doubtful Tom ever revealed he was the heir of Slytherin until he became Voldemort and let Tom Riddle fade into obscurity). His first introduction to the wizarding world is some asshole lighting all his stuff on fire because the matron talked shit about him.

Harry wants to stay at Hogwarts because the Dursleys are abusive. Yes, this is terrible, but Tom wants to stay because Nazis are bombing London and Dippet says, “So sorry, Tom, no exceptions. Enjoy those luffas!” Harry’s concerns are never treated with the same disdain.

To make a long story short, they do not have similar backgrounds, at all. To say they do is utterly laughable and not much better than saying “they both have dark hair, they have so much in common!”

They both came from abusive homes, yes, but even the nature of those homes were very different and when they went to Hogwarts they were worlds apart.

... So much for not getting into it, eh?

As for Enemies to Lovers, well, it’s a trope and people enjoy it but it’s not my jam. I could go into why, but I think I’ve said enough.

Which Horcrux Do You Think Harry Would Go Best With?

We see so little of the individual horcruxes I’m not sure I can really take a stab at this. I sort of just make up their personalities as it suits me every time I write them.

With that I suppose I’m partial to the one in Harry’s head? Given that he has a front row seat to Harry, has seen Voldemort’s tragic demise, I think he’s in the best position to end up with Harry in a meaningful manner.

Especially as, if you think about it, he could represent the very last of Tom Riddle’s humanity. The single shard of humanity that remained in him until the bitter end.

[obxcunt]

Love bites || (8)

pairing: jj maybank x reader [eventually] || rafe cameron x reader

warnings: SMUT, typos, cursing.

summary: it was supposed to be a good summer for you, the last one in the obx before going to college, the last one with your friends and family. Unfortunately, a sudden and mysterious death is about to completely change your life, pushing you directly into a brand new world and into a very sexy vampire’s arms.

part seven || masterlist || part nine

You were now both in the living room, sitting on the couch next to each other, your legs resting on JJ’s laps. “I—“ He cleared his throat. “You’re okay?” He asked, again. “Do you need anything? Does it hurt? Maybe you—” You chuckled lightly, head falling against the couch.

“Look at me, JJ.” You said, your eyes searching for his deep blue ones. “I’m fine.” You murmured, again and again. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

He scoffed. “I— I can’t help it.”

Kiara and Marcus walked in the living room together and seemed a bit worried. JJ turned his head in their direction, frowning. He could tell something was wrong, Marcus remaining silent and looking away.

Marcus had long brown hair, dark eyes and a beard. He looked like a cowboy, lost in the wrong generation. You discretely looked at the older man, wondering how old he was.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” The witch asked.

“I— I’m fine, just tired and still a bit confused.” You touched your head, grimacing. “But my nose isn’t broken, that’s cool.”

“What’s wrong, Marcus?” JJ asked, nervous. “What happened outside? Did you catch him?” Marcus remained silent. “What’s going on?”

“We have a problem.” Marcus replied. “He’s way too fast and strong, we are clearly dealing with a newborn. He’s going to come back here.”

Kiara moved closer. “And, we don’t understand how he even managed to get inside the house.” She said. “Maybe another witch helped him or something. However, me and my dad are the only wizards living on the island.”

“Wait, what?” You asked. “He— He’s gonna come back?” JJ instantly turned to look at you, his hands reaching out for yours as they were resting on your thighs. “But— But we are not prepared for this, he could—”

“Unfortunately, this is a pretty common thing in our world.” Marcus interrupted. “This boy is different from us, he’s a hunter.” JJ clenched his jaw, looking back at him. “He’s dangerous and he’s not going to leave the island anytime soon, not until he gets what he wants.”

You sighed. “Me…” You murmured, tears emerging again. “Fuck—” You looked down, holding JJ’s hand.

The blond shook his head. “Hey, Y/N.” He leaned his head closer to yours as you looked up again. “I’ll never let this guy approach you ever again.” He promised. “Don’t worry, you’re—”

“This isn’t about me, JJ!” You said. “I— I don’t care about myself and the possibilities but—” You paused, licking your lips. “What about my parents, huh? What if, he comes back to my house, and kills them?” JJ sighed, looking straight at you. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I’m gonna stay with you, close to your house, drive you around whenever you need to move.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ll be your bodyguard.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll find a solution, we can’t let this guy live any longer.”

“No, no, no.” You objected, eyes widening. “I don’t want you guys to get hurt.” Marcus scoffed. “It’s— It’s dangerous, what if you—”

“It’s not negotiable.” Marcus interrupted, crossing his arms. “We need to kill this guy, this week.” You sighed. “We can’t deal with him and Ward at the same time, it has to be done soon.”

Kiara and JJ nodded. “We’re gonna have to establish a plan.” She turned back to Marcus. “Let’s do this tomorrow, we should get some rest now.” She turned back to JJ. “Also, the spell won’t last forever.” She added. “You won’t be able to enter the house without her permission first as soon as you leave.”

“You should stay here for the night, JJ.” Marcus suggested. “Since her parents are coming back tomorrow, it’s not safe for her to stay here alone.” The blond vampire nodded. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the Chateau, we’ll have a reunion.” He looked at you. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“I— Yes.” You replied. “It was nice to meet you too, sir.” Marcus chuckled at the nickname before exiting the room with Kiara, the brunette waving at the two of you.

“Okay, let’s go upstairs.” You said once they were done.

You both took the stairs in silence, secretly enjoying each other’s company. JJ didn’t say anything, but he was really happy to be with you tonight. However, it wasn’t easy for him to control himself around you sometimes: his strong emotions tempting him constantly.

“Welcome to my bedroom.” You joked, closing the door behind him. “It’s a bit messy, i wasn’t expecting anyone.” You admitted, scratching the back of your head.

“Oh, really?” He teased, smirking as you smacked his arm. “It’s really pretty.” He said, looking at the lamps around the bedroom: giving a cozy atmosphere to the room. “Is that you?” He asked, pointing at some pictures on the wall, right above the desk.

“Yes with my mom.” You moved next to him. “We were at my grandparents' house, it’s a few hours away from the island.” You explained, the blond humming as he looked at the other pictures.

“I—” He narrowed his eyes, clearing his throat. “I don’t see your dad, anywhere.” He said, before looking at you. “You— You don’t like him very much, right?”

You sighed. “We— It’s complicated.” You walked away, sitting on the bed. “We used to be close, but not anymore.” JJ turned around to look at you, feeling bad for bringing up the subject. “It’s getting worse.”

“I— I’m really sorry.” He said, making you smile. “I should mind my own business.”

“Don’t be silly.” He sat down next to you, taking off his boots. “You wanna learn more about me.” He smirked, nodding. “We jump directly into the sensitive subjects.” You both laughed, getting comfortable against the headboard. “He— He cheated on my mom five months ago.”

“Oh.” JJ murmured. “Does she—”

“She knows about it, she forgave him.” You laughed nervously, looking away. “I can’t believe it, it’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Maybe— Maybe she wants to give him another chance to save your family.” You looked at him. “I’m not defending him, he’s an asshole but—” He paused schrugged his shoulders. “I’m not very good at this—” He laughed nervously. “Maybe, they both realized how important their marriage was. Maybe he’s faithful now, maybe he doesn’t want to lose everything.”

“I don’t know.” You said, sighing. “They’re always fighting, arguing over the most random things.” You smiled sadly, playing with your fingers. “I always end up in the middle.”

JJ wanted nothing more than to wipe away the sad expression on your face. “If— If you need to escape one day, or want some peace.” You looked back at him. “You can come to the Chateau, wherever you want.” You hummed, smirking. “I— You can hang out with us, especially me.”

You both laughed. “Oh, right.” He winked, making you laugh even more. You smacked his arm. “How could a sane person turn down such a nice offer.” You smiled, fleeing his gaze for a second.

“Exactly, Y/N.”

You both calmed down, looking at each other with intensity. Butterflies were emerging in your stomach at the sight: the beautiful vampire caressing your cheek with his thumb. You wanted him so bad, noticing his eyes full of desire moving down to your parted lips. You both couldn’t deny the attraction anymore.

JJ seemed fine on the outside, fighting an intense storm made by his emotions on the inside. His brain was telling him to leave, to run away from here. His heart was telling him to kiss you, to listen to his own desires for once. He wanted you so bad, no matter how risky and dangerous it was. You were this beautiful forbidden fruit to him and he was dying to finally taste it.

But, as soon as you moved closer: his nose brushing against yours, his whole body tensed up and he pulled away from you.

“Oh…” You murmured, heartbroken. “I— I’m really sorry. JJ.” You added, touching your trembling lips. “I— I thought you liked me.” You laughed nervously. “I’m ridiculous.”

“Wait, what?” He asked. “Shit— I do.” You looked back at him, frowning. “I like you, Y/N.” He breathed in and out. “I— I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my entire life before.”

You blushed at his words. “I don’t understand.” He wanted to tell you the truth. “What’s wrong, JJ?”

“Remember, back in high-school, when you punched Rachel Green in the face?” You nodded, still frowning. “You did it, because she was calling me a Dirty Pogue.” He swallowed hard. “I— I’ve been in love with you ever since.”

Your eyes widened. “Wha— What?” You were extremely confused, shaking your head. “This doesn’t make any sense, you were ignoring me in high-school and at parties. I thought you had a problem with me back then.”

“You’re a Kook.” You rolled your eyes. “I know, it’s ridiculous. But, you were hanging out with my enemies all the time and—” He sighed. “You had a boyfriend back then.” You grimaced at the memory. “I was admiring you, in secret. I was always looking at you, thinking about you. You were making me nervous. But, this was before, through my human life. Everything is different now.”

“I’m so confused.” You rubbed your face. “You don’t like me anymore, now?” He shook his head. “Because you’re one sexy vampire, you probably had sex with beautiful vampire women and i’m nothing more than a boring human girl.” He laughed nervously at your words. “That’s not funny.”

“I— I haven’t had sex in a while.” He admitted. “Vampires’s emotions are way deeper, which means that my desire for you became even more important and stronger.” Your lips parted, cheeks heating up. “It means that my need to feel you is consuming me even more than it was before.” You were breathing heavily, a violent heat igniting your whole body. “But, this is completely different from human relationships. If we start, who knows what could happen. I could break your bones, while fucking you too hard. I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. “Holy shit—” You breathed with difficulty, one hand moving to his neck to pull him closer. “I— I don’t care, kiss me.” He chuckled, both hands moving to your waist.

“Don’t say that.” He said. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“You’re torturing me, JJ.” You said back, moving to his lap, sitting down right on his crotch. “Please—” He growled as you moved against him. “One kiss.”

“If you keep doing this—” He sighed, licking his lips. “We both know, it won’t be just a kiss.” You smirked, pressing your forehead against his. “JJ…” He loved hearing his name in your mouth and loved even more how eager you were to feel him. “You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“Shit.” He breathed.

In a second, you were getting slammed against the bed: back pressed against the mattress in a gasp. His body was hovering yours, standing right between your opened legs. His mouth moved against yours through a passionate kiss, your hands moving behind his neck to pull him closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning against him as you felt his hand caressing your bare thigh before firmly grabbing it.

He pulled away, his lips moving to your jawline and neck. He wasn’t out of breath, unlike you, he was unstoppable. You moaned against his ear, sensing him gently biting your skin. He pulled away, sensing the urge to bite you, his eyes turning darker and teeth coming out.

You opened your eyes. “What’s wrong, JJ?” He looked away, not wanting you to see him like this. “Hey, look at me.” He groaned, shaking his head to chase his dark thoughts away. “Hey, it’s okay.” He looked back at you, expecting another reaction as you caress his cheekbones and kiss him softly. “It’s okay…” You repeated quietly, his eyes softening at the sound of your voice. “I trust you.”

He kissed you again. “I— I wanna try something.” You didn’t say anything, waiting for him to make the next move, which he did: moving down and kissing your thighs. “Can— Can I?” He asked, ready to take off your pyjama shorts and underwear.

“Yes, please.” You said, whining as you felt the cold air against your skin. “Shit—” You moaned, head falling back against the pillow as JJ’s hands firmly grabbed your thighs, the feeling of his cold rings against your burning skin making you shiver. “Please, do something.”

He couldn’t believe it, this wasn’t another wet-dream, it was real. He made sure you couldn’t move, holding you tightly against the mattress, his head placed directly in front of your heat. He kissed your bikini-line slowly, wanting to tease you, the anticipation building in your body and driving you crazy.

He moved down. “Better be loud, baby.” You moaned at his words. “I want the whole island to hear you.” You hummed, biting your lower-lip.

“Fuck—” He moved his tongue between your folds, licking all the way up to your clit: sucking on it and looking straight at you in the eyes. “JJ—“ You cried, gripping on the sheets.

He continued devouring his favorite meal with pleasure, trying his best to remain calm as he bruised your thighs with his rough fingers: which made you moan even louder. His tongue wandered through your heat, while your fingers were playing with his soft hair: your whole body shaking at the sensation. He used his thumb against your clit, his tongue focusing on the entrance as he listened carefully to your moans.

“I’m— I’m gonna cum, JJ.” You murmured, looking down at the beautiful vampire between your legs. “Fuck!“ You moaned, his thumb moving fast against your clit, making you shake in euphoria as you tried to close your legs on him. “J— JJ!” He smirked against your wetness, savoring the way you taste. “Oh my god… You’re amazing.”

At midnight you were cuddling him, falling asleep in his strong arms, your arm around his waist and your head resting on his bare chest: using the sound of his heartbeat as a lullaby. He played with your hair and kissed your head until you were peacefully snoring, looking at you with adoration the whole night.

——————————————————————

tag-list: @prejudic3-deactivated20201112 @thestorysofargone @ifilwtmfc @callmeimpetuous @katiaw2 @iccyyyybitch @agirlwholovescoffee @hvrcruxes @magicwithaknife @obxmxybxnk @lus-shh @bibliophilewednesday @k-k0129 @acvross-the-universe (tumblr won’t let me tag some of u guys!)

[carewyncromwell]

“Oh, you're everything I'm wanting -- Come to think of it, I'm aching... On account of my transgression, Will you welcome this confession? Could this be out of line? Could this be out of line, To say you're the only one breaking me down like this? You're the only one I would take a shot on -- Keep me hanging on so contagiously...” ~“So Contagious” by Acceptance 

x~x~x~x

In Estrid Soelberg’s @thatravenpuffwitch sixth year, there was a noticeable shift in the kelpie who’d taken on the identity of Rudolph Ollivander. Ru was as snarky and anti-status-quo as ever, but they also didn’t seem to look upon everyone with so much universal disdain or distrust. They would initiate a game of Wizard’s Chess with their fellow Ravenclaws now again, including Siobhan Llewelyn @kc-needs-coffee. They enjoyed spending time with Galen Stagg @cursebreakerfarrier, even going so far as to rope the meeker Gryffindor into helping him scare some of their classmates at the Shrieking Shack (which resulted in the two “running for the lives” to get away from their targets’ retaliation, Ru laughing their head off all the while). And with Estrid herself, Ru had actually started taking to asking her to dance with them and then whisking them away so that she wouldn’t have to deal with a hundred and one guys trying to court her at parties. Admittedly that particular behavior only made the rumor machine at school work double-time -- the entire school, it seemed like, saw Ru and Estrid as a couple, or at least sweet on each other, just because of how much time they spent together. It had been rather aggravating for both Ru and Estrid for a long time, even after they stopped actively hating each other and started nurturing a real friendship. 

As their seventh year began, Ru’s relationships with both Galen and Estrid grew even closer. Before long, you wouldn’t see one without the other two. If Galen ever got bullied, Estrid and Ru would ride to his rescue. Whenever Estrid had to brave parties, Ru was her shadow, warding off all unwanted advances. And once, when Ru was challenged to a duel by a Gryffindor and one of his buddies and then attacked from behind upon them winning by throwing a potion in their opponent’s face, Galen went full-on “Papa Bear,” blocking the spell before it could land on Ru, disarming the bloke who’d attacked them, and sticking his wand right in the other Gryffindor’s face until he backed off. And as the three’s friendship grew stronger, Estrid really started to realize how much she dreaded the end of her time at Hogwarts. She’d miss spending time with Galen and Ru -- having them always there. 

Ru in particular she hated the thought of saying goodbye to. As a kelpie, Ru had no real family, and they didn’t see themselves as having many prospects for a real future. They didn’t have very strong magic, and their life-span was short enough that they’d have trouble disguising themselves after a while. 

“Sooner or later, any folks around me at a job or some such would start giving me the side eye,” Ru had said at the time, sounding rather grim and resigned, “they’d dismiss all the theories like botched Transfiguration or a Dark curse, and Bob’s your uncle, they’d figure out the truth. At that point...well. The game would really be over then, wouldn’t it?”

It was that masquerade that was central to Ru’s current life. They’d only gotten into Hogwarts by pretending to be Rudolph Ollivander, so without their identity as Rudolph, they didn’t have a pair of shoes to fill that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. And once that identity was taken from them and they were revealed for what they were, Ru seemed pretty convinced that no one would want to stick by them. They hadn’t even told Galen the truth about what they were yet, and Estrid suspected it was largely because they feared what their best friend would think, if he knew they’d stolen the identity of the Ravenclaw boy they’d drowned in the Lake four years ago. Estrid got the feeling that Ru was already preparing to say goodbye to their life as a human and retreat back to that solitary existence they led prior to attending Hogwarts...and that thought hurt Estrid. She hated the thought of Ru living out the rest of their life alone...only being able to look back at all of the fun things they did at Hogwarts, and never be able to try anything new ever again. Never be able to take any more pictures, or get any better at their crude animations, or even take a stroll through the pouring rain again...

The memory of the two of them dancing in the rain together the previous year rippled again over Estrid’s mind. 

Ru had been so happy, just dancing with her in the rain and enjoying the squishing, squelching sounds made by their shoes and their sopping wet clothes. It just didn’t seem fair that someone who could be happy with so little had to condemn themselves to a life devoid of even those little pleasures. But could she really expect a wild creature to put their own self-preservation at risk -- expect Ru to actually brave the consequences of their past actions? As much fun as they had as a human, and as much fun as they had at school...well, it’d already seemed like they’d given up. Like they’d seen the writing on the wall and were prepared to go out quietly, like a very old cat sneaking out of the house to die in peace. And as human as they were...they were still a kelpie. Would they even be happy with the kind of life witches and wizards led post-Hogwarts -- one with structure, with employment and responsibilities -- with family? 

Perhaps it was because of how guilty she felt about Ru’s situation that Estrid agreed to go with Ru when the kelpie decided to take advantage of the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend to sneak out to a photography exposition in a nearby Muggle town. It was likely because of his loyalty as a friend than Galen tagged along too...and perhaps because Siobhan Llewelyn had also caught wind that Ru was sneaking out and decided to tag along too. 

It was a bit strange, dressing in something other than their school uniforms. Estrid had decided it would be practical to wear pants, since they’d probably have to be able to run quickly in case they got caught sneaking out or sneaking back in. She hadn’t been sure what Ru would do, exactly, since she’d never seen them in anything but their school uniform -- when Ru met up with them, though, dressed in a flared red hunting jacket and khaki trousers with no shirt underneath, she found herself completely unsurprised. Ru already never buttoned their uniform shirt, presumably because of how much they hated collars -- Estrid supposed it was only the next step, to walk around just in a jacket without any shirt on at all! 

The exhibition showcased a series of so-called “moving pictures” -- compilations of still photographs that, when put together, created the illusion of movement. Magical photography tried to create such movement through the use of enchantments, like the kind used on enchanted portraits, but the technology of photography didn’t mesh well with those sorts of enchantments, since it was harder to “fold” the enchantments into the photographs the same way one could with paints, and so they were often poor quality and would often lose a lot of the magic trying to give them the ability to talk and move before long. But, as Ru pointed out to the others, these “moving pictures” the Muggles had developed could be played over and over and over again in a loop, and even if there was no sound included, the overall quality of the pictures remained the same. 

“It doesn’t even try to recreate life, like wizards do with their pictures,” said Ru. “Instead it creates the illusion of life -- records one moment, rather than stupidly trying and failing to recreate everything that person was. And that one moment is enough! It’s more than enough. With that one moment recorded, you get all the information you need. You can fill in the blanks of everything else on your own.”

The four spent the day watching and enjoying moving pictures of walking in Paris, France, galloping horses, and even a girl feeding her cat. The entire time, Ru was transfixed, sitting awkwardly as ever on their chair between Estrid and Galen with their way-too-long legs crossed at a weird angle and leaning across their own lap to look at the pictures better. At one point, Ru leaned their head very far to the side close to Estrid, to try to see the picture from a certain angle, and their long black hair came down like a curtain beside Estrid’s face. 

Biting back a laugh, Estrid carefully brought a hand up to smooth Ru’s hair out of her face. The gesture startled Ru and made them look at her.

“Here,” whispered Estrid with a fond smile. 

She very gently reached up to tuck Ru’s hair behind their ear. 

Ru’s face flushed slightly. Their electric blue eyes darted off to the side.

“...Thanks,” they muttered.

Close by, a couple of older matrons whispered amongst themselves.

“Ah, that’s how the couples are split, then -- left and right pairs -- ”

“Such a strange-looking pair on the right, wouldn’t you say?”

“Perhaps...but look at that dark-haired lad, he’s clearly smitten -- ”

“Is that a lad? Good heavens, that hair -- ”

Estrid shot a tired look over her shoulder. 

“Sounds like people are jumping to that old conclusion again,” she said to Ru with a wry smile.

Ru was still blushing slightly, their mouth twisted in a frown. “...Mm.”

No snarky comment? That was odd. Ru would hardly ever pass up the chance to scoff about how humans’ ideas of “romance” and courting were utterly bizarre. Instead there was almost something...grim in their expression.

People wouldn’t be making that mistake anymore, Estrid thought sadly, if Ru disappeared back into the void, once their class graduated... 

The kelpie returned their focus back to the screen, and Estrid followed suit gladly. At least it seemed Galen and Siobhan were too distracted talking amongst themselves to overhear. 

Unfortunately the group couldn’t stay for the entire exposition, if they wanted to sneak their way back into school with the rest of the kids enjoying their Hogsmeade weekend without getting caught. And although Ru flagrantly ignored the rules most of the time, they seemed oddly concerned about the others’ feelings on the matter, for once.

“Don’t want your whole future getting derailed right as you’re reaching the finish line, do you?” they said rather gruffly.

Estrid had almost never heard the kelpie think of the future that way before. But, of course, even then...it was their friends’ futures. Not their own. Because they didn’t think they’d have any chance of a future themselves...

As the four sat together at the table in the Three Broomsticks, chatting and laughing over some butterbeers and pickled oysters, a fiery, robust feeling was slowly forming in Estrid’s chest, crystallizing and hardening like some kind of flaming hot diamond. 

Ru deserved a future. Even if they had once drowned somebody and stolen his identity -- even if they’d nearly eaten a first year -- they’d grown so much since then, and Estrid had seen there was so much more to them since then. Ru deserved to be able to keep living as a human as long as they wanted. They deserved to live their life to its fullest, even if it was short. They deserved to have somewhere safe to go, even if everyone else found out the truth about what they were and turned their backs on them. ...They deserved to be happy. 

“Estrid?”

Estrid felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. It was Ru, looming over her like a shadow as always.

“Everyone’s getting ready to leave,” they prompted her.

Estrid looked up. All the students in the Three Broomsticks were gathering together in a clump that migrated toward the door. Galen and Siobhan had already started heading out too, whispering amongst themselves -- Galen shot a very quick glance over his shoulder at them and smiled before turning back to Siobhan. 

“...So they are,” said Estrid.

Despite this, she found herself not immediately getting to her feet. She stayed seated for another moment, her eyes on the table. She could sense Ru watching her, but they didn’t speak again. They sensed that she was deep in thought and decided not to interrupt. It was something Estrid appreciated about Ru -- they were never afraid of silence. 

Estrid closed her eyes, exhaled through her nose, and then opened her mouth to speak. Unfortunately, before she could, a voice cut her off.

“Come on, lovebirds!” crowed a particularly obnoxious Hufflepuff boy. “Don’t want to be left behind, do you?”

Both Ru and Estrid shot the boy a very dirty glare.

“We’re not lovebirds, Wilfred,” Estrid shot back dully. 

She sighed. 

“...What is it you like to say about silence being better than stuffing the space with useless words?” she asked Ru, her voice touched with dry amusement.

Ru avoided her eyes, frowning deeply again. “...Hn.”

The amusement slid off of Estrid’s face. No snarky response again?

“Ru?” she asked. 

“What?” said Ru. 

“Are you...” Estrid bit her lip, “...is there something on your mind?”

Ru gave a loud bluster through their nose and mouth. “I would damn well hope so -- I don’t know how so many people go around with nothing in their heads...”

Estrid relaxed noticeably despite herself. 

“Well, now you’re sounding more like yourself, at least,” she said with another light sigh and a small smile. She rose from the bench at last. “Come on then...suppose we’d better catch up with Galen...”

She’d barely gotten all the way to her feet when she suddenly felt a light tap to her cheek. 

Estrid turned her head. Ru had brought a hand up beside her face, their long pointer finger and thumb only touching her skin just enough to prompt her to look at them. They’d also bent down enough that the collar of their jacket gaped slightly, showing off the Adam’s apple and the top of the pale chest under their silver chain, and that Estrid’s and their faces were only a few inches apart. 

“Estrid...”

Ru swallowed. Something seemed to harden in their electric blue eyes, and they plowed on bluntly. 

“...Look -- I’m attracted to you, okay?”

Estrid gave a light start, but Ru pressed on, undeterred. 

“I know it’s stupid, but I like you. I don’t need you to act any differently, and I’m not going to prance about like a show horse trying to make you like me too. If you don’t like me as I am, I’m not going to change myself so you do. The only reason I’m telling you is…”

They glanced away uncomfortably. 

“...Well, for once, everyone else isn’t being stupid when they talk about me being interested in you – and I just thought you aughta know.”

They looked her full-on again. 

“Now you do.”

Estrid was left speechless. Ru’s electric blue eyes were very intense, and more serious than she thought she’d ever seen them, as they removed their hands from Estrid’s shoulder and away from her face. 

It was strange, for Ru’s face to be so serious. It made them look oddly grounded, steadfast...dedicated. Ru had never been particularly suave or romantic in their manner of speaking, but the bluntness in their tone only seemed to highlight how very truthful and sincere the sentiment behind their words was. It was...really quite sweet. It was like Ru had rested a warm hand over her heart, along with lightly touching her face. A hand that made her feel fuller and happier than she had in a really long time.

Estrid had already come to the thought that Ru wanted to stay as they were, as a human -- to keep enjoying little human pleasures like wearing earrings and taking pictures...but now she also knew for a fact that if Ru could...they would also stay. They wouldn’t just charge off into the sunset and disappear. They might even, if she asked, not hate the idea of living like a human -- of having a job and a home like a human, of dealing with everyday human problems...of settling down and laying down roots and...staying. 

If she asked...Ru might stay.

“Ru...”

Estrid reached out and took hold of the red sleeve of their jacket, preventing them from completely straightening up. 

“...Come home with me.”

Ru stiffened. “What?”

“After graduation,” Estrid clarified. Her words came out at a bit of a rush, despite her best efforts. “You can stay with my grandfather and me in Denmark. I’m sure Grandfather won’t mind. You could look into a job with the Daily Prophet -- they could use someone who knows what they’re doing with photography. And if you’re sending stuff in through Owl Post, no one’ll notice if you don’t look human...I can always answer the door, if someone comes to call and you’re not yourself...”

Ru stared down at her, not quite comprehending what they were hearing. Estrid could feel her face flushing, but she kept a brave face on all the same.

“...You don’t have to stay here all alone, Ru,” she said under her breath so no one else could hear. “I’ll help you protect your secret. And even if everyone does find out what you really are...I’ll stand by you.”

Ru seemed stunned. Their electric blue eyes ran over Estrid’s face, dipping in and out of her eyes and into the corners of her lips. They didn’t say anything for a long moment, but Estrid could sense they were searching her face for any flicker of doubt. When they didn’t find any, their face seemed to lose the rest of its color. 

They bit their lip, looking hesitant in a way Estrid had never seen before.

“...You want me to follow you?” they asked very lowly. “To live with you?”

Estrid’s cheeks were burning, but she nodded all the same. 

“Yes,” she said. 

And as soon as she said the word, she realized how deeply and sincerely she meant it. 

She wanted Ru to follow her. She...wanted them to stay with her.

Ru’s expression seemed to clear. Their face broke into a broad, beautiful smile, full of both a childish kind of delight and quiet, soothing relief. They bowed their head toward Estrid, their lightning-like eyes sparkling just like the silver chain on their neck. 

“...Well, then...” 

Ru brought a hand up to tuck some hair behind Estrid’s ear, trailing their long fingers through it so that it lay flat. 

“...Guess you’ll be my ‘keeper’ a bit longer then...won’t you?”

Estrid felt her own lips curling up in a smile too. “...Guess so.”

“You’d better keep a tight hold of me,” Ru said with a mischievous smile. “Kelpies don’t tame easily.”

“Oh yes, I’m very well aware,” Estrid said coolly. “Your lack of table manners alone make that obvious.”

“Humans have hands, we may as well use them.”

Once Estrid’s hair was smooth enough for Ru’s liking, the kelpie’s smile grew a bit more wry as they extended their arm to her in a mockingly over-the-top formal gesture. 

“Lead and I’ll follow, madam,” they said dryly. 

Biting back a laugh, Estrid brought her arm down onto Ru’s and started to walk with them toward the door.

“Oh...and Ru?”

“Yeah?”

Estrid moved up onto the tips of her toes as she walked and just barely managed to graze their chin with her lips. 

“I like you too,” she said softly. 

Ru looked down at her, startled. They examined her face again, searching it for any hint of insincerity or teasing, but Estrid merely smiled.

“It is weird,” she admitted, “considering everything we’ve gone through -- where we started...”

“...What I really am,” Ru pointed out lowly, cocking an eyebrow.

Estrid nodded. “But, well...I guess both of us were always a little weird, to begin with.”

Very slowly, Ru’s lips spread into another beautiful smile, purer and happier than ever. They moved into Estrid, leaning down enough to rest their head down on her shoulder and gently nuzzle the crook of her neck. 

“More than a little,” they whispered into her skin. 

With a light pink flush to her cheeks, Estrid secured her hold on Ru’s arm, and Ru straightened up again as she led them out. 

The pair left the pub together, perfectly unaware of how many people around them were exchanging Galleons.

Turns out that Ru and Estrid had been the subject of quite a few bets around both Hogwarts and Hogmeade village. 

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Forty Two

Ron goes back to his room with a lot on his mind. 

He hopes he doesn’t let it show because Hermione always has been and always will be inquisitive. The second she realizes something’s off she won’t be shy about asking him about it. 

And he’s always been a shite liar and she’s always been persistent and both of those things are amplified given their current situation. He isn’t even sure he could lie to her again if he tried. 

“She’s always just wanted you Ron.” 

Harry’s word plays over and over with every step he climbs up to the attic. 

Admittedly, Ron’s been nothing short of emotional as of late and he knows Harry wouldn’t play with his feelings or get his hopes up. Especially now. 

When he faces his door he does his best to drop all the selfish thoughts he has about Hermione wanting him. About her admitting as much to him as the two of them live out the rest of their days not only as best friends, but as lovers. 

Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath and wipes his sweaty palms on his jean clad legs. 

Healer appointment. Focus on the healers appointment. 

With that last thought, he turns the brass knob and pushes his creaking door open. 

Thankfully, Hermione’s awake and looks better than she did when he left. He was afraid she was going to be sick last time he saw her. The look of disgust and the palness across her features after repeating Bellatrix’s words was an image pungent in his mind. 

However, now she looks calmer. Her nose is in a book, the book he gifted her no less, as Narcissa sits behind her and gently strokes her hair which is now in a loose plait. 

“Hey.” He says softly. 

She peers up from the text and offers a shaky smile. Though it seems forced, the look in her brown eyes lets him know she’s grateful for his presence and that alone makes him feel like he can do anything. 

Soon Harry appears from behind him, breaking whatever trance he and Hermione were locked into. 

“Hello.” The Chosen One says a bit stiffly, no doubt because of the fourth person in the room. “Did Ron tell you the plan?” He asks aloud. 

The ginger inwardly groaned at his abruptness, “I was getting to that, thank you.” 

“What plan?” Narcissa asks as Hermione also perks up. 

“Just that Harry will stay at The Burrow with Narcissa while you and I go to your appointment. This way he can keep Mum from poking around.” Ron says casually, knowing the subject of her going to St. Mungo was a bit sensitive ever since she found out about her magic. Or rather, lack thereof.

“Very well.” Narcissa says slipping out from behind Hermione and rising from the bed. “Do you mind if I use the loo before the lot of you leave? Two footsteps will be less suspicious when there are three of you up here.” She says. 

Weasley flicks his eyes to an annoyed looking Harry before he sighs aloud. 

“Alright, I’ll show you.” He agrees half heartedly as he walks out of the room. 

Once they leave Ron shuts the door softly before stepping further into the room and sitting at the edge of his bed, by her sock covered feet. 

“Your hair looks pretty.” He tells her. 

At this, Hermione twinges pink as her uninjured nimble fingers softly caress the intricately woven hair. 

He swallows, willing himself to ask what he needs to say, “Are you ready for the appointment?” 

The blush immediately leaves her cheeks as her entire face turns a ghostly white. 

“Mione.” He says sadly, placing his hand gently on her uncasted calf and giving it a small squeeze. 

Suddenly her nose scrunches as a small sniffle sounds. 

“No, come on, please don’t. It’ll be alright I swear.” She tips her head down, “Hey, you’re still as much of a witch as you ever were.” 

Hermione’s eyes remained trained on the orange quilt. Gently, Ron reaches out and tips her chin up with two fingers. 

“How many witches or wizards, for that matter, can say that they’ve gotten all O’s? Or how many underage wizards have apparated without a license, without so much as a lesson? Not even Dumbledore.” 

At this she lets out a watery chuckle. It sounds strangled, but it’s something. 

“There she is.” He smiles as her eyes finally meet his. His face turns serious, as he goes on, “No witch or wizard can say they’ve endured the Cruciatus Curse as much as you and still be alive, to still be brilliant. And besides Harry, not many can say they even survived You-Know-Who.” The voice grew quiet hoping his words wouldn't upset her, but help her realize how special she is. 

A few tears leak out of her eyes but after a moment she bites her lip hard and slowly nods. 

“Brightest Witch of Our Age.” He whispers softly as he leans in close to her. 

At the feeling of his breath tickling the loose strands of her hair she allows her eyes to flutter shut as she revels in him. 

The smell of him, the feel of him. 

The feeling of the boy- no man she’s come to love. 

It’s strange really, when did her brave Gryffindor keeper, once a little boy whose biggest fear was spiders and greatest desire was to be locked alone in Honeydukes, become a man?

Somehow it just makes her realize she loves him even more than she thought possible. 

That’s why this appointment was so important. 

It was the one thing giving her hope to one day talk again, so that she could talk so much he’d get tired of her. That she could work up the courage to share her experiences, but also tell him thank you. 

Tell him “I love you’. 

Sighing, so her breath mingles with his, she leans forward and presses her forehead gently against his. Letting him know she hears him, that she’s grateful for his words. 

In turn, he presses against her, shifting one hand to her hair to hold her more firmly, but still gently against him. 

One of her shaking hands works its way to his cheeks as she speaks, “R-ready.” She promises. 

They wish they could stay in this moment forever. 

...

Mr. Weasley had taken some time off of work to drive Hermione and Ron into London. 

She felt terrible she drew him away from such important duties on her behalf, only growing her frustrations about not being able to travel more efficiently. 

Of course Ron had sensed her guilt when his father mentioned as much. He was becoming rather inquisitive these days. So, he took Hermione’s hand in the back seat and whispered to her that she was the most important thing right now to him and his family. 

Though the comment made her blush like mad and didn’t do a whole lot to ease the fact she felt like a burden, she just nodded. 

It’s not like she could say much anyway. 

However, what it did make her think of was something else. A terrible thought, if you ask her. 

The fact of the matter is, it shouldn’t be Ron’s father driving her to St. Mungo’s, it should be hers. 

And if they were alive right now, she’s sure that would be the case. Her father behind the wheel and her Mum in the passenger seat. She was never one for driving through London traffic. 

God she missed them. 

She missed them so much that they seemed to be everywhere. 

When they pass a fabric shop on the way in, she’s reminded of how much her Mum loved to sew. Or when they were at a stop light and on the corner was a father buying his young daughter an ice cream cone, she’s reminded of when her father would do the same with her at the park by her house.

Her house. She misses that too. 

She misses the memories there. She misses what she used to know she was coming home to. 

Her parents. 

Now it was just full of things. 

Full of things that she wanted. Things that represented her parents and things that they loved. 

Things that would help her feel closer to them. 

If she even deserves to feel that way. Wherever they are, they’re probably ashamed to have her as a daughter. 

She’s a liar. She got them killed. They died because she was caught up in the magical world and now she can’t even cast a bloody charm anymore. 

None of this was worth it. 

Hermione’s doing her best not to cry. Knowing if she does, Ron will surely comfort her, something she doesn’t deserve. 

She doesn’t deserve to be told her parents loved her and that they’d be proud of her and everything she’s done. Because even if that were true, her parents shouldn’t think that of her. 

Not after all she’s done. 

Whether it's a good or bad thing, her thoughts come to a stand still, as does the car, as it pulls up to St. Mungo’s. 

Arthur turns in the drivers seat to look at the teens, “Alright, Ronnie you help Hermione out, I’ll open the door.” He instructs his son. 

Complying, Ron unbuckles his seat belt and goes to the boot to take out her chair. At first he struggles to unfold it, but soon he gets it as he wheels it to her now open door, thanks to his Dad.

Bending down and into the back seat he looks at her, noting the far off look in her eyes, but choosing not to comment. He’d fear this would happen. 

“I’ll lift you alright? Only for a moment, just don’t want you to get hurt.” He tells her, knowing how much she must hate needing all this help, even though no part of him minds giving it to her. 

She nods slowly, awaiting his embrace. 

When it comes, she grips onto his jumper tightly during the transition before being placed down effortlessly on her new companion, which she loathed. 

Hopefully this visit won’t be a total bust and they’ll give her crutches at the very least. 

Ron grabbed the handles and began guiding her through the front doors as his father followed next to them. Once inside, Arthur stopped, turning to face the pair. 

“Would it be alright if you guys headed up on your own? Kingsley told me earlier he’d be here to help work on an appeal for Hermione’s apparating underage and unlicensed fine. He needs some of your records to prove it was a necessity and I’ve got to sign off on it.” He told the pair. 

Great, just another thing the Weasley’s and now Mr. Shacklebolt had to worry about. 

Hermione just nodded. If the poor man was missing work to take her, at the very least she’d let him get some done here. 

“Very well. Good luck. Remember, third floor Ronnie. I’ll come up when I’m done.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ron said, shooing him off as he made his way to the lift. 

When they finally reach the Spell Damage ward, Ron looks as if he may be ill. Hermione supposes he spent a lot of time in this waiting room, worrying himself sick. 

She contemplates reaching out and grabbing his hand to let him know it was okay, that this time she was here with him. 

Just as she’s about to go through with it, she becomes distracted by two voices across from her. 

A woman and a man. They look to be middle aged and the matching rings tell her what she needs to know. They’re clearly married. 

“Your Mum’s signing some paperwork now, your Dad’s with her as well.” The man told her gently. 

The shorter one, with glasses, nods, “I reckon we’ll need to start the arrangements won’t we?” She sniffles. 

“Arrangements? What arrangements Delia?” 

“The funeral for Gran. Mum will be a wreck, we should help…” The words fade as she stops listening.

Hermione’s eyes grow wide at the words as she peers up at Ron, gently tugging on his sleeve. 

He looks down at her, she looks so small, so fragile, yet so gorgeous. 

“W-want th-at.” She croaks with doe-like eyes. 

Could this be it? Could this be the moment? She was just watching that couple snogging in the corner, after all. 

“What do you want darling? Anything you need and I’ll give it to you.” 

And he means it. 

Weakly she points to where the two of them stood, now embracing, rather than engaged in a lip lock. 

A hug? Does she want a hug? 

Merlin, just ask! Don’t eff this up. 

“I’m not sure I understand.” He tells her softly, definitely not the first time he’s said that to her. 

“A-a,” he can tell she’s getting emotional as his stomach pulls in anticipation, “fu-funeral.” She whispers brokenly. 

And shite, he wants to punch himself in the face for being such a prat and getting his hopes up in a hospital of all places, while she's grieving on top of that all!

“For your parents?” He asks knowingly. 

She nods slowly, moving one hand to wipe at her eyes. 

It breaks his heart. 

“Alright, we can do that.” He promises her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. He would do anything she asked. “I’ll talk to Mum about it when we get back. We’ll prepare it just how you want. Something to honor your parents… and your grandmother.” 

Okay, now he really wishes he punched himself in the face! That really was not at all how he intended to break that news to her, but it just sort of came out. The couple in the corner was whispering about their own grandmother and he just- ugh! He hates himself. 

Her bottom lip quivers before the floodgates open. 

Instantly, he crushes her best he can to his chest, quieting her cries with the front of his jumper. 

“Sh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it- I-” He inhales a shaky breath, “I have the letter at home that your parents sent. They said it was peaceful, that she thought of you and that she’s with your grandfather now.” 

At his words her glassy eyes grow wide again. The words offer a little comfort to her. To have something from her parents and something about her grandmother waiting for her. 

Something she knows she can have. 

“I’ll give it to you first thing when we get back to The Burrow.” He swears, unashamedly pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. 

Thankfully, he feels her nod into him, taking it as a good sign that she’s still receptive to his words. 

“Hampstead.” It takes her a while to say as her voice shakes over every syllable. 

“You wanna have it in Hampstead?” He tries. 

She shakes her head. 

“G-go.” She feels stupid, honestly. Babies can form fuller sentences then she can but she really is lacking the energy to have at it right now. 

“You wanna see your house?” He whispers slowly into her ear. 

Thank god Ron knows her as well as he does. 

She nods. 

Without a thought, he pulls her closer and responds. “Of course. I’ll talk to Dad about it. I’ll talk to my parents about everything you want, it’s the least I can do. And if they say no Mione, I promise I’ll bring you there myself darling.” 

He supposes it really is a conversation he and his parents need to have, not only for travel purposes but also for Hermione’s own sake. Arthur saw her house after the attack, he needs to make sure nothing there will set her off in any way. And if there is something, he wants it gone. 

Because Hermione wants to see her house and if he can give her anything, he was sure as hell going to. 

And maybe because she’s exhausted both physically, from traveling, and emotionally from all she’s just found out, but she can’t bring herself to verbally thank Ron. 

Instead she snakes one hand to rest on his cheek and gently places her lips there. 

Her lips on his skin makes him feel warm and tingly inside. He’s briefly taken back to the first time she’s done this, before his fifth year quidditch match. 

He remembers a time not too long ago where he thought that would be the closest he ever got to kissing Hermione. 

Having her here like this again, he knows to never take advantage of that again.

Of her. 

When she pulls back a pretty blush is on her cheeks, as he feels his own face burn red. 

He offers her a grin, one that Hermione could only describe as purely Ron. 

She has no choice but to offer a small, real, genuine smile in return. 

“Hermione Granger!” A shrill voice calls out, ruining the moment. 

He sighs, but stands up, maneuvering her chair to the mediwitch. 

“Hello.” He tells the woman. 

“You’re Hermione Granger?” She asks, not looking up from the clipboard, not bothering with a hello. 

“Well no, she is.” He says, as if the wheelchair wasn’t a dead giveaway. Oh yeah and the fact he was a bloke. 

“Will you be coming in with her?” She asks next, scrubbing something onto the parchment with her quill. 

“Uh…”

“Well?” The woman finally looks at the pair, glasses pushed down to her nose as she taps her nails against the board impatiently. 

Hermione nods for Ron, making him breathe a sigh in relief, he didn’t want to assume anything, but he hoped. 

“Very well. This way please.” The witch says next as she walks along the corridor. 

Soon enough the witch leads them to a room, which much to both Ron and Hermione’s relife, looks nothing like the one she was staying in for so long. 

It’s more of a standard exam room. A high up table with a thin sheet pulled over it, a chair next to it, as well as a scale in the corner. It reminded Hermione a lot of her Muggle physician’s office. 

Hermione sat idly in the chair, not even bothering with mounting the high table, waiting for the mediwitch to check her vitals, or something. After all, this was her first healing appointment. 

Instead, the woman places the clipboard down and turns to them. “Healer Jamison just finished with another patient. He’ll be in soon.” With that, she leaves. 

In her wake, Hermione can’t help but find the fact she didn’t examine her at all very odd. It soon dawns on her that if the unhealed bruises and cuts aren’t enough of a reminder, that her body can’t handle magic. 

Before Ron can even speak to her, ask how she is, things like that, a knock sounds on the door. 

After a moment, the door is pushed open. Hermione doesn’t remember him all that well, but she knows it's Healer Jamison. He’s a plump, older man, with a scruffy white beard and thin white hair to match. 

“Hello Miss Granger.” He says before turning to Ron, “Mr. Weasley.” he nods. 

“Hello sir.” Ron says, knowing Hermione probably felt rude for being unable to properly greet the man. 

“Before we begin with anything else, I have to ask, have you been able to speak?” 

Hermione gulps and shakes her head, almost in embarrassment. 

“That’s alright.” The healer assures, “I’m just going to take a look at your throat. Better for us to be safe.” 

In acknowledgment, Hermione nods, knowing what this entails. However, instead of pulling out a flashlight, the man lights a lumos on the tip of his wand. 

“Open.” He tells her. 

The brunette does as she’s asked, sticking her tongue out as far as it can go so he can get a good look. After a moment, he seems satisfied, because he pulls his wand away and she closes her mouth. 

“There’s a bit of phlegm building up in there. Have you been having trouble breathing?” He asks her. 

She shakes her head. 

“Alright, if you notice, please come in immediately. Also, keep an eye out if you begin coughing every now and again, but there’s nothing to worry about right now.” 

Yeah, except for the fact I can’t even string along a sentence. 

Next, Jamison checked her cuts and bruises. He redressed a few wounds and put new bandages on the nastier ones. After, he asked her about her leg and arm, both in casts, asking her to hold up a number from one to five on how bad the pains were. 

Ron’s chest tightens when she holds up a five. 

“Now, for the next part of the exam, I’m afraid this is going to be a bit of a risk.”

“Risk?” Ron asks as Hermione goes stiff. 

“Yes. I need to perform a scan to check on the remnants of dark magic in her system.” He says to Ron before directing his attention back to Hermione. “Our hope is that some of your cells killed it off, but we can’t be sure. The scan doesn’t require a lot of magic on my end, therefore a lot won’t be put into your body Miss Granger, but there is a possibility it could do a lot of damage. Do you consent to a scan?” 

Ron turns to look at her, hoping she’ll refuse. 

Of course she doesn’t. 

“Y-yes.” She chokes out. 

Jamison seems pleased with her words and the fact she spoke aloud. 

“Very well. Give me a moment to page Healer Evangeline. We’ll need another professional in the room just in case.” With that, he exited. 

“Mione.” Ron moaned painfully, not even being able to fathom the thought of her hurt or worse again. 

She looks at him and frowns. 

She had to say yes. He knows that. He knows how much her magic means to her, he just wishes things were different. 

“I know. I know, I just- I don’t wanna see you hurt love, not again.” Never again. 

Hermione reaches over and squeezes his hand. Trying to let him know she’ll be okay. Deep down he knows she will be too, she’s too strong to let a medical scan best her. 

At least he hopes. 

Not even a moment later another knock sounds as Jamison walks in with a younger looking woman with dark brown hair and glasses perched at the end of her nose. She looks vaguely familiar. 

“Hello Miss Granger. I’m Healer Evangeline, we worked a bit together but you were pretty out of it.” She tells the girl. 

Hermione likes her, she seems sweet. 

“Hello Ron.” She adds after the fact. 

Ron waves weakly, too stressed about what could happen to form coherent words. 

“Now, we’ve discussed the risks, but one thing I can assure you is that you’re going to feel very tired after, alright?” Jamison informs, making Hermione nod weakly. “Mr. Weasley, would you mind laying Miss Granger down on the table?”

Ron complies, gently lifting her onto the scratchy sheet. Once he sets her down, he grabs her hand, and she accepts by weaving their fingers together and trying to offer a smile. 

He sees it falter, he knows she’s as scared as he is. 

“Alright, are you ready for me to begin?” The older man asks. 

Reluctantly Hermione nods, as her grip on Ron’s hand tightens. 

The edge of Jamison's wand lights a tealish color as the light stretches forward and works its way up Hermione’s body. 

Upon the impact she jumps slightly as her eyes shut tightly and her face contorted in pain. 

“Stop!” Ron roared. 

Evangeline placed a hand on his shoulder, “it’s almost done. She’ll be fine. She’s strong.” The woman reminds him. 

Trying to ground himself, Ron focuses on the feel of her hand as he begins whispering to her quietly, “Come on Mione. You’re okay, love. You got this.” 

It’s eerily similar to when he’d talk to her whilst she was unctuous, when he was unsure she would ever wake again. 

The thought makes him sick. 

Thankfully, the light soon goes back into Jamison's wand as the room fades back to normal and Hermione’s body visibly relaxes. 

“Very good.” He praises. 

Meanwhile, Ron wipes some sweat from her forehead, placing a light kiss in his hands wake. “You’re brilliant.” He whispers. 

Tiredly, she looks up at him. 

“I’m going to go read the results.” Jamison interrupts. “It’ll just take me a few minutes. In the meantime Healer Evangeline has some of her own examinations to perform on Miss Granger, yes?” 

The woman nods, “Yes. Ron, would you mind giving us some privacy?”

While he didn’t love the idea of leaving her alone he understood some things he shouldn’t see. Like if she was checking any cuts on her chest or ribs, knowing she had broken a few. Or maybe in more personal spots.

Though she surely didn’t have an injury down there. Right? Wait, what even was Healer Evangeline’s title anyway?

“Right yeah. I’ll be right outside.” He tells Hermione more than anyone else, as he follows Jamison out of the room. 

In the waiting room, he can’t help but let his curiosity get the best of him as he walks over to the information desk. 

“Excuse me.” He says to the little wizard behind it. 

“How can I help you sir?” He asks politely, large improvement from the mediwitch. 

“Hi, I was wondering what Healer Evangeline specialized in?” He gulped, wow he sounded like a right tosser. 

“Evangeline is our leading gynecologist here at St. Mungo’s!” He praised.

Ron went pale. 

“Is your girl pregnant? She’s the best with stuff like that.” 

“Uh- uh.” He stutters unsure what to say. 

“I won’t tell, don’t worry. Good luck kid.” The man smiles before returning to his paperwork. 

Slowly, Ron sauntered back over to the door. He pressed his back against the wall next to it and hunched over. He placed his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths. 

He wasn’t daft, he knew what women's healers did. 

It was just standard, wasn't it? Relax Ron. Nothings wrong. You’re overthinking. Death Eaters aren’t that bad right? 

Part of him knows he’s kidding himself. 

Images and thoughts flash in his brain that make him think of nothing but pure murder. His fists clench at his sides as his jaw tightens. 

Deep breaths Ron. Deep breaths. Just ask Mum when you go home if it's routine. Don’t freak out. Not here. Don’t do that to Hermione. 

Over and over Ron told himself it was procedure until Jamison returned. 

“Alright my boy?” He asked, noticing his heaving. 

Taking a shaking breath Ron nodded. 

Jamison furrows his brow but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he knocks on the door and after hearing a ‘come in’ from Evangeline, the pair enter. 

Upon seeing Hermione again Ron eases a bit knowing she’s okay. That she’s here. That whatever they did to her they will never be able to do again. 

With a flick of his wand a large image is projected of what seems to be a white outline covered in black blobs. 

“Here’s your scan.” 

Ron tenses, now focused on an entirely new problem. 

That’s a lot of dark magic. 

“Not much has changed, just the magic moving throughout your body. There has been slight improvement and it’s good news that you were able to withstand the scan today. The hope now is that as your external cuts heal, your body will then be able to exert its energy on internal matters. So while it isn’t the best news, it’s not bad either. Keep taking it easy. It is crucial that you heal in order to do magic again, alright?” 

The news upsets Hermione. Like Jamison said, it's not terrible, but it’s not great. She wants to cry at the imprint Bellatrix left on her. 

At the fact that she’s essentially made her into the thing she always taunted heart as being, magicless. 

But right now, she’s too exhausted to even think properly, her body so spent from undergoing magic. 

“I can tell you’re exhausted. If any questions come up please floo me.” Jamison comments, signaling Ron to move her to the chair. 

She’s so limp in his arms, clearly fighting off sleep. Once he places her down he squats and brushes some of her hair back. “Rest now, love. It’ll be okay.” He promises. 

Weakly she nods as her eyes flutter shut as her head luls to the side. 

“Thank you both so much, but I reckon we should get going. I know my Mum will want to floo you Jamison so you’ll hear from us soon. I know this one will have a lot of questions as well.” he says weakly. 

“Of course son, let me get the door for you.” 

With another exchange of thank you’s, Ron leaves. He finds his Dad in the lobby as they walk together to the car. On the way he fills him in best he can, biting his tongue about the questions he has about Healer Evangeline. The good news is, his father says the fine for Hermione apparating without a license should be dropped within the week. 

Other than that they don’t speak.

Ron just enjoys Hermione’s sleeping form across his lap as he strokes her hair. Letting the feeling be a reminder that she’s here with him. 

The whole way home his thoughts are plagued by the things Hermione probably underwent in that place. Unforgivables. Starvation. Physical torment. Torture. Maybe even worse things. 

It makes him sick. 

He supposes the thought of not knowing almost makes it worse, like he has no choice but to theorize the worse. This is certainly something he and Narcissa will need to discuss. 

Then he thinks of her wish to have a funeral. 

The promise he made her of going to visit Hampstead. 

He knows he should do it before Hermione wakes up, hoping it’ll take one thing off her plate. Like Jamison said, she needs to rest. To heal. 

Soon enough he sees the crooked shape of The Burrow come into view as his father pulls up onto the grass. 

Ron opts for carrying her into the house, not bothering with the chair. It worries him a bit that she doesn’t even stir. 

“Go put her upstairs, then come down. I’m sure your Mum will want to know about the appointment.” Arthur says, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Ron nods and takes the steps two at a time. 

He lays Hermione in his bed gently, tucking the quilt around her. 

“I’ll be back soon, darling.” He promises before going back down the steps. 

When he arrives back in the living room he finds his parents talking in hushed whispers and his Mum, for whatever reason, looks right pissed. She has her arms crossed against her chest and a scowl on her face. 

“Mum, Dad I need to talk to you about something.” He says gently, hoping that her anger wasn’t directed at him. 

“Conveniently, I need to discuss something with you as well. Shall we go to the kitchen.” She’s not asking as she’s already pushing her way there. 

Ron isn't sure why she’s so angry. He was surprised and almost a little embarrassed that she didn’t even ask about Hermione’s appointment. Nevertheless, he follows, trying to recall whatever the hell he did to piss her off. 

Just last night she was praising him, telling him how proud she was of him. 

His eyes bulge at the sight he’s met by, as do his fathers. 

“You wanted to talk to Ronald? Let’s talk.” She bites out. 

Ron’s eyes flick over to where Harry is standing, looking uncomfortable and apologetic. 

He mouths a quick ‘sorry’ to his best mate. Ron ignores it, eyes too focused on the fact that standing next to Harry is Ginny and next to Ginny, is Narcissa Malfoy.