#angry at everything bill did. angry that hes gone forever. angry at himself for spending any energy on thinking about bill

[godsfavoritescientist]

you’ll always be my favorite ghost - Big God, by Florence + The Machine

[Image description: Lineless digital painting of Ford kneeling in front of the stone statue of Bill, hugging it and crying. He is in the woods, surrounded by birch trees, with beams yellow light streaming down from the treetops. The grass around Ford is shaded to be reminiscent of the shape of the portal.]

[infecdead]

⸻ @valour-bound asked. What are your thoughts on your parents? Your father especially? Years have passed since then, do you still feel the same, Steve?

the questions itself didn’t really come out of the blue, he knew that his therapist would bring them up eventually. this topic he always tried to avoid whenever he attended these sessions, but the redhead knew he couldn’t avoid them forever.

he sighs. “i miss them, sometimes i still think how my life would’ve turned out if things didn’t happen the way they did.” like finishing high school for one, getting into college, maybe go out on some dates and find the one person he would love to spend the rest of his life with. do the whole get married, have kids (biological or adopted), white picket fence, etc.

however, that isn’t the case, both of his parents are gone, dead, hell even he was dead for a while before the virus brought him back.

steve was initially angry about that in the beginning, hated himself for what he became, hated what others thought of him. hated that he was treated like a lab rat to be poked and prodded, samples extracted from him whether he liked it or not.

he still holds some of that anger even years and many therapy sessions later, a lot of it were mainly directed towards his father. however, there was also a mixture of guilt as well, he doesn't remember much of rockfort island, but he knows what happened on said island, courtesy of claire. steve doesn't remember his actions, but he feels the guilt peeking through the anger on occasion.

would he do it again though? yes he would, especially to protect claire.

the guilt doesn't lessen the anger however. he still can't quite forgive his father, though he knows that he should eventually, but he can’t, not when the redhead still holds the (once) older man responsible for everything. however, steve can somewhat understand the circumstances that forced his old man’s hand, he remembers the letters stacked in his father’s office, the bills and overdue notices.

he was sure that their house would’ve been foreclosed on at some point, their possessions taken away, forcing them out to the streets if they weren't lucky enough to keep the car, etc.

still, it didn’t make anything better and the anger still lingers.

“i… think i hate my dad less, i understand now why he did what he did, but i don’t know if i’m ready to forgive him just yet."

[maximumjinx]

Steven Universe Gravity Falls AU

~Yknow what they say, if you run out of content, ya gotta make it yourself. This is a ? shot (I might continue or not who knows not me) please don’t ask for more I have 18 unfinished fanfics on this site.~

California was nice, Steven had to admit. The people were nice, the food was fantastic, and the weather was splendid. It reminded him a lot of Beach City. Though there were just so many people, and traveling north, Steven was beginning to long for something small and simple again.

Oregon was the perfect place for that, right?

“Ronaldo wants pictures of Bigfoot, and if anyone can find him, its you Steven.” Petey’s voice was faint on Steven’s phone speaker, tossed into the passenger seat as Steven blindly picked a highway exit.

“Sure Petey, but couldn’t Ronaldo just go to a circus?”

“Not big feet Steven,” Petey emphasized, “Bigfoot.”

“Saying it twice isn’t helping buddy.” Steven was half paying attention. He was focusing on the winding roads and the looming trees surrounding him. Deep, in the pit of Steven’s stomach, he felt something start to tug him toward one direction farther away from the highway. He wasn’t quite sure if it was a good or bad feeling yet.

“Forget it, I’m going to take a blurry photo of that mean Gem in the woods and say its Bigfoot.”

“Just don’t let Jasper catch you, she’s no joke when she’s angry.”

“I saw her ripping grass out of the ground I think I’ll be fine. Later dude.”

Steven heard a small click and smiled to himself. He’s happy to see how far the people of Beach City have come and how they’ve taken to the gems. He remembers when the Crystal Gems were once the outcasts of town that locals warned you to stay away from.

He looked up to see a welcome sign.

“Gravity falls. Well, that’s a funny name.”

—

Steven wanted small and simple but he feels he may have overshot it.

This small town had exactly three attractions. A town museum that mentioned marrying woodpeckers (Steven couldn’t figure out if that was a normal human thing, like taxes and velcro), a small diner, and as one local described it ‘some tourist trap’ deep in the woods. It was a sticky summer day and the former two attractions didn’t have airconditioning. Steven gambled on the last stop in hopes of stretching his legs and maybe finding a source to the strange feeling in his gut. It had become much stronger since he entered this small town. Alluring, but nothing related to Gems as far as Steven could tell.

He parked in the nearly empty lot and stepped out. Jacket wrapped loosely around his hips, Steven made his way inside.

A girl that looked about 13 was petting a pig on the front porch. She was incredibly reflective, and depsite the heat wore a knitted bedazzled sweater that made her glow like a disco ball in the sun.

She looked Steven up and down as he approached, a wide smile taking up her face and Steven saw bright braces with colored bands.

“Hi!” She launched upwards, startling the pig away, “I’m Mabel, but you can call me anytime.” The girl winked and stuck out her hand, palm facing the floor.

Steven blinked.

“Mabel, stop scaring away the customers!” A gruff voice yelled through the screen door, and soon an older man stepped out in a suit, wearing a fez and eyepatch.

Immediately the old man squinted at Steven, sizing him up.

Stanley Pines knew this teen wasn’t local, but he wasn’t sure if he had any money. For all he knew he was another boy trying to hit on his giftshop cashier, Wendy.

Oh well, a customer is a customer.

“Come in, come in, and see our mystical and magical wonders!”

“Magical?” This could be it, Steven could figure out why this town has felt off. Maybe it was gem related after all.

Quickly this older man who had introduced himself as Mr. Mystery gave Steven a tour of what looked like failed taxidermy projects. Now Steven may have a lived a sheltered childhood, but he felt pretty confident there was no such thing as a Sashcrotch. And so far, nothing had felt magical or mysterious.

“That concludes our tour! Here is our mistifying giftshop and it’s purchasable wonders!”

“Right...” Well, at the very least he was able to spend some time in airconditioning.

There was a girl behind the desk in plaid that looked about Steven’s age, and just a half inch shorter than him. She looked bored, flipping through a magazine as a young boy that looked a lot like Mabel made googly eyes as he swept by the door.

Steven guessed there was no harm in asking around.

“Hi, I’m Steven.” He smiled easily, walking up to the register.

“No refunds, even if an exhibit bit you.” She sighed, peeking up before turning back to her magazine.

“Oh no, nothing bit me, I just wanted to know something.”

She looked up to get a better look at Steven and gave a small smirk.

“Sure, but only because I like your shirt. Mr. Universe merch, now that’s a deep cut.”

Unbeknownst to Steven, Dipper Pines would had been watching the exchange felt a twinge of uneasiness as this out of towner talked with Wendy.

“Have you ever seen anything strange or weird actually happen in this town?”

Wendy’s smile dropped.

“Why do you ask?” Her eyes flickered to Dipper, just for a moment, and that was all he needed to rush over.

“Excuse me sir, please buy something or exit the store.” Dipper spoke in the deepest voice he could muster.

Steven looked over with a questioning expression.

“Oh sure uh-“ He blindly reached for the wad of bills that his dad had given to him before he left. Steven pulled out a hundred dollar bill and put it on the counter. Wendy looked up baffled as Steven stuffed the other cash back in his wallet.

“Boy was I wrong about you kid!” Mr. Mystery, seemingly materializing out of nowhere, now bounded over. He had loosened his tie and lost the eyepatch which turned out he never needed.

“Whaddya wanna know? I’ll tell you everything. There’s gnomes in the woods you know-“

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper protested loudly, dragging his Stan away and harshly whispering at him.

“Did you steal that money?” Wendy asked as Steven watched the pair whisper fight in the corner. He turned back to the girl and gave a sheepish smile.

“Uh no, my dad gave it to me before this roadtrip. He’s actually Mr. Universe.”

Wendy lit up.

“No freaking way! Your dad is Mr. Universe? I only got into him since he managed Sadie Killer and the Suspects and they always perform covers of his songs on tour, I can’t believe he’s your dad!” She rambled, stars in her eyes. Steven beamed, he loved when people praised his dad’s music. Greg really deserved it.

Steven learned Wendy’s name and they swapped stories back and forth, only interrupted as the girl from outside slowly rose from the behind the counter beaming.

“A cute musician that loves weird stuff, take me now.” She swooned. Steven blushed profusely, not used to the attention.

“Sorry, my girlfriend Connie probably wouldn’t like that very much.” He said gently. Mabel looked him up and down and pouted.

“I can wait, but not forever.” She warned, and winked, bounding to break apart her grunkle and Dipper, who are now whisper screaming with arms flailing.

“I wasn’t going to mention that Dorito shaped jerk! Just the normal stuff!”

“It’s dangerous! He could be a spy, or government, or another stack of gnomes!”

Steven raised an eyebrow and looked at Wendy. She chuckled and shrugged. Steven carefully approached them.

“He can hear everything you’re saying anyways so might as well tell him!” Mabel interrupted, nodding towards Steven as he came up.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m definitely not government.” Steven technically didn’t exist at all. He never had a social security card and didn’t have a birth certificate.

Dipper only glared. Rich strangers with an interest in the paranormal didn’t come through gravity falls without some kind of agenda.

Steven hated the conflict he was starting. No information was worth this family fighting.

“Okay,” he surrendered, hands up, “I’ll just go. I’ll stick around town until tomorrow if you change your minds”

“Wait Steven-”

“Let him go Wendy,” Dipper glared as the boy in pink walked out, “We can’t trust him.”

“But I was going to ask for Sadie tickets...” Wendy groaned, defeated.

“There’s something weird about him.”

“Great!” Mabel beamed, “He’ll fit right in.”

~.~

Steven wasn’t crazy about sleeping in his car, but was seriously considering it after seeing the state of his motel room. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, a thin line of dust covering every surface. He was also pretty sure they didn’t even have free ice. 

“Wish Pearl were here..” He mumbled, exhausted. He curled up on top of the covers, fully clothed, and let sleep take him.

Being Steven Universe however, meant rest was sure to allude the half alien. 

Steven found himself in a dark space, fog all around him. Before a word could come out of his mouth he heard a fast, repetitive muttering. 

“Stranger...Wendy looked pretty today..Can’t trust...Tell no one...Ford isn’t here..”

“What, the-” Steven quietly walked toward the source of dialogue, and saw the faded silhouette of the boy from the Mystery Shack. His back was turned to him, but Steven recognized the blue vest and mosquito bitten legs. 

“I thought I was over the dream hopping.” Steven spoke a tad too loudly, starting the young boy - Dipper.

“What-” Dipper’s eyes grew wide in panic, and the boy fell back harshly.

“No, no, you can’t be in my head!” 

“Wait, I’m not-” Steven tried to reassure him, stepping carefully towards the boy but Dipper let out a screech of terror, sweat gathering around his temples.

“Bill sent you didn’t he?! He’s not really gone- he’s going to hurt Mable again-” Dipper began to hyperventilate. 

“Dipper please,” Steven took a step back, arms in the air in surrender. 

“I-”

“I’m not going to hurt you I swear on the gems.” He placed a hand over his heart. “This is a total invasion of privacy but it’s something that happens when someone’s emotions are out of control-”

“How are you here?” Dipper demanded, scrambling to his feet. “Tell me what you are and what you want.”

“I’m just passing through!” Steven insisted, then lowered his tone to calm the younger boy. “I’m kinda of magnet for weird stuff. I just wanted to help in case anything was going on.”

“We deal with things just fine around here.” Dipper spat, then watched as Steven deflated. He seemed tired, like he hasn't slept well in a while. 

“So what are you anyways? How can you be here?”

Steven winced, and laughed nervously. “It’s kind of a long story..”

Dipper raised and eyebrow and swept his arm around the void dramatically. 

“You have until dawn.”

~

“I thought that was a conspiracy theory, it wasn’t even covered by major news outlets.” Dipper look exhausted, cross legged on the unseen floor as he ran his hands through his hair. 

“I think Garnet is pretty persuasive when it comes to government and reporters. They all kinda fall in love with her.”

“She’s the one that’s really two aliens?” 

Steven shook his head with a small smile. “It’s hard to explain but yes, I guess that comes close.”

“That’s actually insane. I’m insane, aren’t I?” Dipper stood up, leaving Steven on sitting next to an empty space. “It’s been too quiet around here and now I’m so desperate for weird, that I’m making it all up in my head.”

“I get that feeling.” Steven smiled without humor, “but no, this is real. I’ll prove it when you wake up.” Steven felt a shift, the fog in the void getting denser. 

“Sooner than I thought, you’re an early riser huh?”

Dipper looked back at Steven, panicked. “You’ll come to the Shack again right? In just a bit?”

Steven smiled. “Promise.”

~

Dipper woke up to his sister braiding his hair. Mabel still had her pjs on, and a make up kit next to the bed. Dipper frowned, tasting strawberry shortcake. 

“Stop testing party looks on me, Mabel.”

“Stop having my face structure and maybe I will.” She grinned, covered in blue glitter. 

Dipper quickly washed up and got dressed for the day, feeling like he was anxiously waiting for something but not quite remembering what. 

He felt like he had a strange dream last night...

He quickly remembered, choking on cereal as Steven walked into the shack right as it opened. Hair slightly frizzy from the heat and eyes strangely tired. Maybe dream hopping took energy that he anticipated. 

“Steven!”

“Meal ticket!” 

“Grunkle Stan.” Mabel chastised as Dipper rushed over to the older boy. 

“Good morning everyone.” 

Dipper stopped short, slightly hoping that everything he experienced wasn’t just his imagination. That everything exciting and weird and interesting wasn’t always trying to kill him, ruin his life, or steal his candy. 

Steven looked tired, like he had been doing this much longer than Dipper, but he had still come out with enough energy to smile. 

“Not insane?” Dipper asked hopefully, quietly. Steven snapped his attention from his Grunkle and Mable bickering down to the Dipper. He gave a reassuring smile, eyes quite serious. 

“Not insane.”

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Closets & Wendy’s.

“Last day of Pride!”

Dean projects himself onto Cas’s bed, ending up sprawled on his front, with an arm slung over Cas’s lap.

On receiving no more greeting than Cas’s hand landing in his hair and starting to card through it, he lifts his face from the comforter, props himself up on his elbows - chin tucked in a palm - and stares at his boyfriend.

Cas looks upset.

The corners of his lips tilt passively downwards, eyebrows carrying most of the weight of his frown.

“Cas?” Dean asks, neutrally - already regretting his overhyped entrance.

“I’m sorry- I don't feel -”

Words fade out, and Cas pauses. Then he turns to actually look at Dean, the sadness seeped into his eyes, and Dean doesn’t waste a moment getting up, knee-waddling over into Cas’s space and pulling him close.

Cas comes easily, planting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and exhaling a tired breath when Dean runs a hand over his back.

“What are you feeling?” Dean asks, after a beat, now trying to soothe Cas’s tense shoulders, rubbing gently over the cotton. Cas leans into his touch.

About three years of therapy, and nearly six years of being roommates - undergrads, and then actual friggin’ grad school - with Cas, basically Dean’s personal mascot for healthy communication, has led him to definitely know that it’s always a better alternative to talk about what you are going through, instead of what you aren’t.

(Or, you know, what you think you should be, just because your dumb, insensitive boyfriend who’s been obsessed with Pride since finally coming out and-slash-or best-friending up with Charlie Bradbury, is. And rather loudly, at that, because Dean Winchester’s a goddamn idiot.)

“Disappointment.” Cas says, morosely, but almost as soon as he hears his own words, he rephrases. “Uh. I’m the disappointment.”

“Well, did you secretly sneak out and mark yourself absent for the entire semester in all your 4.0 GPA classes when I wasn’t looking?”

“Dean.”

“Fine, 3.7.” Dean throws back. “Big friggin’ deal, nerd.” Cas lets out a huff of breath which almost resembles a chuckle, and Dean squeezes his arm around Cas. “You know that would’ve totally been a four if I’d been less distracting.”

“Interesting.” Cas corrects.

“Hot.” Dean throws back, just because he knows it’ll make Cas crinkle into one of his fond ‘what-do-I-do-with-you’ smiles. It does. 

“Perfect.” And Cas throws in a sigh, as if to solidify his point, and leans in to nuzzle Dean’s neck in a way so intensely Cas, that if anyone else had ever tried it, he’d either end up being tickled to death, or running the hell out of dodge. 

“We’re on you right now, Cheesy McCheesington.” Dean smiles back, and goes on. 

He’s not willing to let Cas close up into a ball of repressed emotions with happy only on the outside. That’s way more Dean’s thing - or rather, used to be. He knows he’s bettered his coping mechanisms. Mostly because every part of his life involves Cas now, and anything with Cas is good. 

They’ve grown a lot together - grown through a lot as well, and this is how they’ve done it. By talking through, the Castiel way. It still throws Dean off sometimes, how far they’ve gotten.

So when Cas whines in protest into Dean’s shirt, he knows exactly how to turn it into a side-hug. One of those, where they end up staring at each other from a three-inch distance.

Staring hard, Dean says it. “You’re the farthest thing from a disappointment, Cas. To anyone.”

The lecturers all adored him, their friends made it a point to keep proclaiming their affection out loud (thank god for Charlie Bradbury and co.), and Dean doesn’t think he could be more proud of Cas if he tried. 

He was a goddamn wonder.

He’d gone from a lanky, private-schooled, what’s-a-Star-War schmuck to one of Dean’s favorite people in the world. He was hilarious, and a genius, and kind. He’d grown into his shoulders, and into a stubbly kind of an age, and into this awesome, intelligent, pancake-making man of Dean’s dreams, and into his bee obsessions and organizational neatness - and complete, total perfection. 

(Dean needs him, appreciates him, and (not that subtly - to his credit), loves him in a forever sort of way.)

But before Dean’s properly began to remind Cas of any of it, he’s interrupted. 

“I’m disappointing me, Dean.”

There’s resignation in his tone, and evidence in every word he says. 

“June’s over. Again. And for all the marching with painted cheeks and the megaphones? For all the parades, and the celebrations of our identities, the togetherness, the being proud of being ourselves?” Cas lets out, bitterly, and Dean realizes he knows where Cas is going with this. “And I still haven’t come out to my family.”

Dean waits, sure that Cas isn’t finished. 

“How have I not done it yet?” Cas hisses, and it almost startles him - he’s swapped the upset for angry. It’s rarer. “I’ve known since I was a teenager - and we’ll have been together for five years in three months, Dean, and I just - I cannot believe I still can’t do it.”

He sounds helpless, and Dean wants to jump in, but he needs Cas to get the words out first. 

“What’s the matter with me? Am I not brave enough, or strong enough - or am I still hanging onto the hope that they’ll suddenly become better human beings and not disown me when I tell them?” Cas scoffs. 

He’s pissed at himself. 

“Maybe I still lack, as you say, free will.”

Dean has to step in at that. “That was six years ago, and you know I wouldn’t say it now.”

“Why not?” Cas challenges. “I couldn’t tell them then, either. I clearly haven’t changed.”

“Other things, Cas.” Dean says, and grits his teeth. This isn’t supposed to be them yelling. Cas is frustrated, and Dean’s listening - he can’t be frustrated back at him for the way he expresses it. “Other things have changed.”

Cas gives him a look, but Dean holds his end of it until it crumbles. Cas changes his offense. Mellows down - probably when he sees Dean’s restraint. “This is important to me. I want to do it. Then why can’t I tell them?”

He’s asking himself, but he’s also asking the only person who knows him as well as he knows himself, yet he’s also not asking at all - simultaneously, it’s also rhetorical.

Dean licks his lips. 

“Whatever be the answer to that, Cas, first things first. This doesn’t imply you’re not proud enough.” 

Cas looks away.

“Or, for that matter, not panromantic or demisexual enough.” 

Sigh. Shuffle, shift. And then he looks back up at Dean. The tears weren’t there before. “How do you know, Dean?”

“‘Cause I know this doesn’t decide that.”

“Why not?” Cas says, quietly.

“‘Cause,” He repeats. “How queer you are isn’t measured on a scale of how soon you come out once you know.” He pauses, judges the air. “It usually isn’t measured at all, unless we’re talking about a magical thing known as the Kinsey Scale.”

He judged right. 

Cas coughs, and it’s definitely to disguise a reluctant snicker.

“And you know, even if it were measured on the weird first thing,” Dean adds, serious again. “There’d totally be a different clause, and a separate key, mind you, for the people with douchebag families.”

“They prefer conservative, I think.” Cas says, smally, after an entire minute, as if he’d actually been rerunning Dean’s speech in his head for that long.

Dean shrugs.

Cas almost smiles. He’s calmed down.

“The strange thing is that it makes no sense.” He begins, heavy, albeit less severe on himself. “I’m twenty six. We co-own this apartment, and we pay our bills. We’re completely independent.” It never stops sounding surreal. That’s for another time. “Mother calls me on third Sundays, Gabriel sends Christmas cards. Other than that, I only spend Thanksgiving lunches with them, each year more horrible than the last. I know I wouldn’t miss any of them, nor regret being written out of the will. Or have my Novak cemetery spot passed onto Michael’s oldest. Or the gardener.” 

Dean snorts at that. The Novaks are truly something else. 

“There is no reason I can’t just come out. I just -” Cas cuts into his own sentence with a sigh, one signifying that he’s finally done speaking, and he reclaims Dean’s shoulder once more.

What’s important right now, is to make him feel better. A resolution to this isn’t within grasp at the moment, and Cas sounds drained. Dean - well, he does what he does best. He segues. 

“Wait.” Cas lifts his head. “You didn’t actually say you’re not out, did you?”

Cas squints at him.

“Dude. Being out doesn’t just mean telling your family. And getting subjected to toxicity and trauma, by means of it.” Dean points out, earnest. By that logic, courtesy of a long-dead mom, and a relatively-shorter-dead dad, he’s in the closet as well. “Hell, you put your hand in my back pocket at KFC, yesterday.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. 

Dean grins, and Cas’s surprise makes it easy to do so. “You bet my publicly grabbed ass, it counts.”

Cas knows it counts. He knows everything that counts. But he indulges himself, and he indulges Dean - his bad mood slowly dissipating. “What else?” 

“You kissed me at Wendy’s last week.” Dean informs him, eyebrows raised. “Held my hand for a really long time in a Starbucks queue on Saturday. Oh, and all the gay bars count, buddy. Especially the bits where we grind on the dance floor, and then I blow you in the stall.” 

Cas opens his mouth to protest that has only happened once, but Dean meets his eyes with a pointed look. He’s got to bring it up.

“Every time I’ve ever taken you to a steak joint counts too. ‘Cause trust me, those are always dates, whether you know it or not.”

“Long drives are a date to you.” Cas deadpans. 

“Yeah, and Baby will never say you’re not out.” Dean throws back, and Cas actually makes it to a smile this time. Dean’s left feeling accomplished. (And sort of dazed, because it’s going to take a lot more than six years for him to get used to Cas being so easily beautiful, and being it right next to him.)

“You said you loved me for the first time at the Roadhouse.” Cas says.

Dean blushes. 

“And then you ran away before I could react, got really drunk and karaoke’d I’m Too Sexy on the stage, and passed out on my lap right as I tried to say it back to you.”

This is definitely not his favorite story, but it always lights Cas up, and that’s all that matters, really - so he rolls his eyes half-heartedly and Cas smiles wider.

Silence prevails for a moment.

“Look.” Dean ends up being the one to break it. Cas listens, hanging onto each word. “You’re the only one who knows why you can’t do it, okay? My best guess would be an internalized decision to avoid conflict. Maybe you call your old therapist tomorrow - like, I dunno, a cameo from Castiel, unresolved coming-out issues sorta thing. Of course, we can talk about it too. Get six cheeseburgers and twelve beers, and figure things out on your own. But it’s up to you.” Cas exhales into a little smile. “All I know is, it doesn’t matter to anyone that you haven’t told your family, if it doesn’t matter to you. 

Cas nods, a couple of times, and there’s the barest hint of tears again, but this time doesn’t make Dean want to punch God. 

It makes him want to hug Cas, so he goes for it. 

“Even if you were in the closet, Cas? I’d say the same.” Dean adds, as an afterthought, about a minute into a hug which doesn’t seem to be nearing an end. Not really. No one minds, so there’s that. “This community, this month - everything about Pride is about all of us, and if Charlie’s ever called me handmaiden, trust me she’s said this a million times. It means everyone. Includes people in the closet, every bit as those who’re out.”

Cas hums in agreement, and tilts his head against Dean’s.

“In any case,” Dean teases. “Your family’s over in Illinois, anyways. Here, where it counts? You’re as out as you can be.”

“I could kiss you in more Wendy’s.” Cas contemplates, because he’s awesome like that.

“What has Burger King ever done to you?”

Dean listens to him considering it with a thoughtful note, and mutters a “Dork.” It helps keep him grounded for he feels like he’s floating right now - ‘cause there’s something about the way Cas holds onto him. Tighter.

Like somehow, even after all this time, they managed to fall a little more in love today. 

And somehow, they’ll keep doing it forever.

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- A VERY FROSTY CHRISTMAS

"Don't be ridiculous Harry!" Lily said at once.

"Honestly, your friends haven't even been that bad," James agreed while making a face at such a deceleration. He didn't want to think of his son ever being alone again, especially not this forced isolation he seemed so determined about lately. Ron and Hermione weren't being that bad.

"Nobody believes me!" Harry insisted. "Even when they do hear this, and they'll have to admit I was right, someone's still going to tell me to leave it alone, and I can't!" He could not seem to erase that feeling, a deep sense of foreboding.

"Ron and Hermione do believe you," Sirius halfheartedly scolded. "So did we, if not as much as you would have liked! Arthur even went so far as to check up on all this with only your hunch. Now you're coming back with even better, I know you'll make something of this and you'll still have the same backup as you did before."

Harry didn't look very convinced. He'd wondered a few times now just how much those around him would have believed, if at all, if that second chapter hadn't existed. He shoved that way though, no need pestering himself further, and just sighed as his mother began what he hoped was a good break for him.

Unknown voice confirming Snape was definitely offering help, multiple times.

"With a coloring book maybe, otherwise it's beyond both of them," Remus snipped. Harry looked mildly offended for a moment before he recognized the joking tone Remus had really used, and quickly shook off the feeling of being frustrated with Professor Lupin he was sure he was imagining.

Harry threatened if he asked that one more time, he was going to shove this sprout-

Ron backed off, insisting he was just checking!

"No no, you finish those kinds of threats!" James insisted. "It's far healthier."

"For who?" Sirius demanded, having been on the receiving end of those one too many times.

"Yourself obviously, vents it out instead of bottling it up, something Harry should partake in more," James smirked.

  They were standing alone at the Burrow's kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs. Weasley. Snow was drifting past the window in front of them.

"Always a place of cheer," Remus muttered while trying not to wince about the last Christmas Harry had attended. At least Sirius enjoyed his last.

Harry continued yes, Snape was offering help! Something about his Malfoy's mother making an Unbreakable Oath-

Unbreakable Vow, Ron corrected.

Harry asked if he knew what that was, and Ron said you couldn't break it.

Harry replied he'd worked that much out for himself, funnily enough.

"Are you sure?" Sirius turned to him in mock concern. "I was quite worried there it wasn't obvious enough for you."

"You're obtuse enough for anyone," Remus rolled his eyes.

He asked what happened when it was broken, and Ron simply said you died.

"Oh, is that all," Harry tried to laugh off while clenching his hand in concern. If he'd made one, and somehow broke it now without remembering...he shivered fearfully and clenched his fist, hoping he'd never been so stupid.

Ron gave the example the twins had once tried to do the same to him, but dad had come in before they could, he'd gone mental. Only time he'd ever seen his dad as angry as his Mum could get,

"With good reason," Lily murmured. She couldn't imagine her children doing that to each other, it seemed unthinkable.

"I'm blasted they even got as far as they did," James shivered. Even if Bill, as the eldest, had somehow passed down the knowledge, that was foolhardy! Those little kids really could have permanently hurt each other!

Fred still reckoned his buttock was never the same.

Harry said passing over the twins buttock-

"A shame for them I'm sure," Remus snorted.

Said twins voice entered, Fred saying he begged their pardon?

"Moony was wrong?!" Sirius gasped, looking wildly from the book to his mate.

"Technically I was right, he was offended they were passing over such a thing," Remus said stoutly.

George happily greeted them by commending them using knives like Muggles!

Ron grumbled he'd be seventeen in just a few months, then he could use magic whenever he liked as well.

"Can he really though?" James asked with only mild interest. Ron could have learned this particular spell from his mum after all, but kitchen spells weren't something he'd ever bothered to learn. His mum or Lily were far more proficient so he'd never a need.

George, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his feet up on it,

"Which his mother loves I'm sure," Lily muttered.

said in the meantime, they could enjoy the correct demonstration-

Fred interrupted he was sure Ron would dazzle them all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills.

"He just might," Remus sniffed in defense. The twins had only ever seen Ron in the DA, they'd yet to see him show any real potential.

George went on speaking of such hitherto unsuspected skills, their dear sister had recently informed them of a Lavender Brown now in the picture?

"Ginny passing the buck I see," James indulged in his own pun just to chuckle at Ron's misfortune here.

"I wish he hadn't," Lily harrumphed. That had really been what had started this whole mess.

After Sirius was done mock wiping a tear away and telling Prongs how proud he was of that pun, he said, "ah well, Ron gets a chance to indulge," without concern.

Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased as he turned back to the sprouts and told them to mind their own business.

"Ooh, didn't see that one coming," Remus said in surprise, all of them were really, thinking Ron would have taken this moment to show off a bit for his brothers. Either he was maturing past that, or there was something more with Lavender going on.

Fred mockingly complimented what a snappy retort that was, he really had no clue where Ron came up with them.

"It's actually more insulting that way," James said wisely, "you're not bothering to waste breath on anything more. It's beneath him really."

"You know when you say that?" Sirius challenged. "When you can't think of a good comeback!"

"I deny everything and regret nothing," he smirked.

Then he continued what had happened to the poor girl? Did she have an accident, extensive brain damage?

"By watching Quidditch. I always knew it caused brain damage, though never before just by watching," Lily said blithely.

"Now that one just hurt Lils!" Sirius protested.

"Considering it got me a chance to date her, I regret nothing," James said again without remorse.

Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprout knife at Fred,

Lily winced hard, that was definitely overstepping bounds and she'd definitely be giving Ron a good telling off for that. It was only her faith in Fred's reflexes that stopped real retribution.

who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand, *

"An object to throw back, impressive for an on the spot job," Sirius chuckled.

"Bet you I could do one better!" James challenged at once.

"You lot will not be throwing any cutlery around here!" Lily said at once, only half heartedly scolding. She was well aware she couldn't really stop them if they got started.

"Don't worry Lily, I'm sure they won't," Remus cut in cheerfully before any more could be said, but when she turned away she swore he muttered something under his breath and Harry swallowed a laugh.

She at once furiously shouted at her youngest son she didn't ever want to see him throwing knives again.

"Oh I'm sure he won't," Remus said with all the innocence in the world. Lily narrowed her eyes at him, her previous worries all but confirmed now.

Ron muttered he wouldn't, let her see, he finished in even lower towns as she turned away from him.

All four boys snorted at that in appreciation, and Lily vowed to hide knives from these four for the next fortnight.

Molly turned to the twins and apologized Remus was coming over tonight,

"Moony's back!" Sirius cheered again.

"I've already been back in this book you twit," Remus rolled his eyes at him.

"It's been so long, I nearly forgot about you," he pretended to wipe a tear away while Remus tried, and failed, to fight back a smile.

James was beside himself beaming his last surviving friend wasn't spending his favorite holiday alone he didn't even have it in him to ask why he was staying the night. The idea was too horrific to imagine, Moony truly forever alone now, as if a forever full moon.

so Bill would have to squeeze in with them.

George agreed it was no problem at once.

"Why are the twins even staying there?" Remus asked in surprise, hating to think he was putting anyone out. "Especially with a house this full, surely they'd rather be in their shop."

"I'm sure Molly's insisting," Lily said quietly, a particular Weasley standing out in her mind of why the mother would want all the kids she could under one roof.

Charlie wasn't coming home, Harry and Ron would be in the attic while Fleur would be staying with Ginny-

"Which will make their holiday I'm sure," Sirius snickered.

Fred muttered that was sure to make Ginny's Christmas.

Sirius whooped with unrestrained joy, while James only watched him indulgently for a moment before telling him, "I'd be much more impressed you mimicked a twin if we weren't all thinking it."

"That just means we're all as spectacular as they are," Sirius's smile only grew.

"A higher compliment I've never been given," Lily chuckled.

Mrs. Weasley finished at least everyone would have a bed, while sounding slightly harassed.

Harry and Remus winced, neither wanting to put the woman out at all, while the others just smiled with gratitude for such open hospitality for those who needed it.

Fred confirmed their last brother wasn't showing his face then?

Lily winced, that wasn't at all the right thing to make any of this better.

Mrs. Weasley turned away before carefully saying she suspected Percy was busy at work.

Or the world's biggest prat, Fred stated as Molly left the kitchen. It was one of those two.

"A real pondering of pigheaded problems," Remus sourly agreed.

Then the two departed as well to go out.

Ron impolitely asked them to finish these sprouts for them so they could go too.

Fred very seriously spoke he couldn't be doing that,

Sirius' smirk only grew impossibly wider as he stated, "well lookie there, now they're actively impersonating me! Doing a spectacular job of it too!"

"You're right, you never do help me out in the kitchen either," Lily rolled her eyes.

that was very character building stuff, peeling sprouts by hand, made one appreciate Muggles and Squibs.

"Something more people should appreciate," James agreed honestly.

George finished with the helpful hint if Ron really wanted someone's help, try not throwing knives at them, while giving the paper airplane a toss back.

"Well how else are you supposed to threaten, err, ask for help?" Sirius asked with a truly baffled expression.

"I've attempted to murder some of my best friends, and they never seemed to hold it against me," Remus agreed sardonically.

Lily couldn't help a surprised giggle while the boys laughed outright.

They were going down to the village, there was a paper girl who thought Fred's card tricks were like real magic!

Sirius had only just stopped laughing at Moony and now was snickering away once again, vividly remembering pulling this a few times himself.

Ron called them gits before turning back to Harry to continue their conversation, asking if he was going to tell Dumbledore about what he'd overheard?

Harry agreed he was top of the list.

Ron said what a pity it was Harry hadn't heard what Malfoy was actually doing.

Harry agreed, but said that was the point, he was refusing to tell even Snape.

"I hate still not knowing anything, even when we knew something before them," James huffed.

Ron piped up the idea Dumbledore and anyone else Harry would tell would probably say Snape was only offering Malfoy help on Dumbledore's behalf anyways.

"Can you blame them?" Lily said quickly before anyone else could make a more cutting remark.

Harry insisted even Snape wasn't that good an actor.

"I didn't know he could act at all, he's certainly never bothered to act like a decent person," James said in disgust.

Harry laughed mechanically while ignoring the gnawing feeling eating away at him.

Then he turned to Ron, demanding that's what he thought?

Ron quickly said otherwise, seriously!

"You know I do, Ron didn't need to repeat that," Sirius chirped, clearly never growing tired of Harry laughing at that any more than Harry seemed to grow tired of hearing it.

Everyone else was still convinced of his allegiance to the Order though.

Harry said nothing. It had already occurred to him that this would be the most likely objection to his new evidence; he could hear Hermione now: Obviously, Harry, he was pretending to offer help so he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing. . . .

"Bet you a Galleon that's exactly what Hermione says," James chose to say instead of something else to upset his wife.

"Nah, Harry knows his friends too well," Sirius shrugged off.

This was pure imagination, however, as he had had no opportunity to tell Hermione what he had overheard. She had disappeared from Slughorn's party before he returned to it, or so he had been informed by an irate McLaggen, and she had already gone to bed by the time he returned to the common room. As he and Ron had left for the Burrow early the next day, he had barely had time to wish her a happy Christmas and to tell her that he had some very important news when they got back from the holidays. He was not entirely sure that she had heard him, though; Ron and Lavender had been saying a thoroughly nonverbal goodbye just behind him at the time.

"And why would that distract her?" Remus asked innocently.

"I'll tell you later Moony," Sirius chuckled.

Still, even Hermione would not be able to deny one thing: Malfoy was definitely up to something, and Snape knew it, so Harry felt fully justified in saying, I told you so, which he had done several times to Ron already.

"Something you really should have saved more for Hermione, she indulges in it the most," James nodded.

Harry did not get the chance to speak to Mr. Weasley, who was working very long hours at the Ministry, until Christmas Eve night. The Weasleys and their guests were sitting in the living room, which Ginny had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion.

"Which I'm sure you complimented her for generously," Sirius winked at Harry, who merely blushed as answer.

Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for Christmas dinner.

All five of them snorted in surprise, Lily going on with genuine curiosity for this explanation.

Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to its back, it glowered down at them all, the ugliest angel Harry had ever seen, with a large bald head like a potato and rather hairy feet.

Now the lot of them were laughing hard once more, Lily restraining herself first and giving those around her an evil look.

"Don't you lot be getting any ideas-"

"Can you imagine when the spell wears off!" Sirius spoke much louder with his laughter still going strong. "Tearing through the house Christmas morning!"

"I'm entirely sure that's what the twins intended," Remus agreed.

Lily couldn't help a resolved sigh, already leery of her first Christmas with her son now sharing this event if she didn't keep an eye out.

They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs. Weasley's favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that a scowling Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder.

Lily muttered tartly about how rude both parties were being, as if Molly should enforce all of them to listen to this, and Fleur refusing to be a good guest and just participate.

Undercover of a particularly jazzy number called A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love, Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips.

"It's more an acquired ability," Sirius said primly.

"One I doubt you've mastered, as often as you think you need to practice," Remus snipped.

Sirius chose to ignore that, he didn't need to validate his love life.

Meanwhile, Remus Lupin, who was thinner and more ragged-looking than ever, **

Lily had been hoping the boys wouldn't notice the sudden hitch in her voice, but no such luck, their lively banter was cut short at once and all attention was focused on her unpleasantly. She chewed up her lip for a moment, but one glance at Remus showed he wanted no sympathy, nor much of anything from those around him but to get past this as fast as possible, so she accepted that wish.

was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though he could not hear Celestina's voice.

As lyrics of Celestina continued, Molly swayed along with her knitting while murmuring to Arthur this had been the first song they'd danced to.

James had to clear his throat hard, but tried in vain to act like he hadn't just heard Moony's life was still steadily growing worse. "Course, I still remember mine!"

"We've got to get Harry round an unsuspecting party one of these days," Remus put in with forced chipper. "He'll get to see their expression when Prongs proclaims a tortured, broken saw being played as his love song to her."

Lily giggled affectionately, easily recalling several other moments from that Death Day party, her first date with her husband, it all still seemed so fresh even years later after so many other things had happened.

Arthur jerked in surprise, quickly nodding along and sleepily saying how marvelous it was indeed. With a little shake and sitting himself up straighter, he turned to Harry and apologized about this, it would be over soon.

Harry said he didn't have a problem with it.

Harry pulled himself away from examining Remus now, still unable to stop comparing him to the Lupin from his memories, and gave the same grin now. He'd listen to all the warbling music in the world at the Burrow.

He asked how it was going at the Ministry, and Arthur said extremely busy. Of the three people they'd caught who claimed to be Death Eaters, he doubted a one actually were. Then he quickly added on not for Harry not to be repeating that, now looking alert and awake.

"He's as good to have around as Hagrid," Sirius sighed before slipping an easy grin into place, deciding not to pick apart Remus now for this future any more than he wanted to hear of his own...or lack thereof. "Quite easy to chat to when he doesn't know what he's saying."

Sirius was confused why Harry's smile had slipped already into an uneasy frown though, but before he could ask Lily had kept going.

Harry asked if Stan Shunpike was still in custody?

They all winced as understanding lit them once more. Harry was still holding firm to how wrong that was, as he should. The evidence of what could become of people wrongfully accused was no longer able to be in that room with his godson like he should have been, and Harry refused to acknowledge the man now, afraid to make light of anything at the moment.

Arthur agreed he was afraid so, even Dumbledore had tried appealing otherwise, but three arrests sounded better than three arrests and releases with nothing to show for it.

"Who exactly is he going to run off and tell?" James demanded, as surly as his offspring now. It truly was disgusting the Ministry had finally changed its ways, and yet he'd somehow preferred them when they were ostriches. Dumb, flightless things with their heads in the sand.***

Harry at once promised he wouldn't be saying any of this to anybody else. Then Harry brought up what he'd said, just before he'd gone to school.

Arthur quickly agreed he'd checked the Malfoy's place, there was nothing, broken or otherwise, that shouldn't have been there.

"Not sure why you couldn't have arrested them anyways," Sirius scowled. "It's the principle of the matter, they're an insult to society by breathing!"

Harry agreed he'd seen that in the profit, but he had more to tell now, and he told Mr. Weasley everything he had overheard between Malfoy and Snape. As Harry spoke, he saw Lupin's head turn a little toward him, taking in every word.

For just the briefest moment that could exist, James' eyes lit with that teenage glow again, turning to share with his wife and child all the stories of old Moony being as bad as Wormtail about eavesdropping on people's conversations, the sneaky duo had quite mastered the skill as unnoticeable as they managed to make themselves. It died before it could start though, he'd never dream of comparing Remus to...he winced visibly instead for all to see, unable to even think his name at a time like this.

When he had finished, there was silence, except for Celestina's crooning.

Arthur spoke slowly that it was most likely Snape was simply pretending-

Harry finished the thought for him like Ron had said earlier, finishing with how did they know for sure?

Lupin unexpectedly jumped in to say it wasn't their business to know more.

"Hark, look who's talking," Lily said with more snideness in her voice than she'd really meant to, but she really couldn't help it. Snape had irredeemably hurt her time and again, especially in viciously treating her child like the father he wasn't, but she still clung to the very last there was something good in him. Something Dumbledore knew of and allowed him in the Order, and until that was proved otherwise, she'd still scowl at those around her accusing him otherwise.

They didn't need to, they'd made their feelings on this perfectly clear, so instead avoided each other's eyes rather than pick a fight with her for now.

He had turned his back on the fire now and faced Harry across Mr. Weasley to tell him it was Dumbledore's business. He trusted Snape, and that ought to be good enough.

Harry's mouth opened just slightly in surprise, and went uncomfortably dry as something occurred to him. Remus' severe expression now was all he needed to say to show he no longer felt any such way, that he struggled to trust much of anybody outside this room after all he'd heard witness of his future deeds. Harry squirmed uncomfortably as Hermione's words at the age of thirteen echoed back to him now, that bad things happened to wizards who meddle with time. Even if by some stretch beyond belief Pettigrew lived through the encounter when this all ended, Harry had irrevocably already changed things. His hand suddenly clenched painfully, his ring standing out in contrast, and for just one moment Harry thought that it started to flicker. Then he blinked, and was sure it was just his eyes playing tricks on him, so he quickly put his attention back on his mother and forced himself to think on this much, much later.

Harry still protested Dumbledore could be wrong, Remus agreed this was a fact many had accused him of. It still came down to trust. He trusted Dumbledore, therefore, he trusted Snape.

Harry countered did he honestly like him?

Lupin calmly said he neither liked nor disliked Severus.

"Right, and I turn into a unicorn," James rolled his eyes.

As Harry pulled a skeptical expression, Lupin insisted he was speaking the truth.

That pulled up both of his friends short in here. They'd still thought they'd be able to at least tell when their Moony was kidding no matter what time! Remus himself looked anxious now, more so for the fact he didn't much like this either. He certainly had nothing even close to a good feeling for the man, let alone the mutual expression prevailing at the Burrow. This was after what he'd have seen and heard of Snape's treatment of Harry, what all he'd done to Sirius' life.

They would never be friends, but he did not forget Severus had made the Wolfsbane Potion for him while he'd been teaching there, he had not suffered as he usually did.

"Was that all it took to win you over?" Sirius asked, trying very hard not to frown at Moony but instead put in another joke. "All those Animagus years for nothing, just had to get you a bloody potion!"

"Don't say that Padfoot," was all Remus had in him to whisper, clamping his hands so tight in front of him he looked as if he were trying to stop from strangling something, like himself.

Harry angrily retorted Snape had accidentally let slip the fact he was a werewolf, he'd had to leave!

Lily swallowed bile as she forced that out yet again, it was one of the many loathsome things he'd done, and it was certainly high up there, costing a good man that job, unable to hold his tongue any longer after so many years of silence just for some petty revenge.

Lupin shrugged, saying the news would have leaked out eventually.

"Hardly!" James snapped, wishing he could pound this into Professor Lupin's head instead of his Remus, though he clearly needed it as well. "No one would have given a damn even if it had!"

Remus shivered in fear, not believing that now any more than he would have twenty years later. He still feared what exactly was going on in his future Harry didn't even know about, and with people like Umbridge so prevalent in the Ministry, he had no disillusions laws against his kind were likely even stricter than today banning him around places with kids. He'd be lucky if he didn't have a warrant out for his arrest like Sirius.

They both knew he wanted the DADA job, but he could have wreaked much worse damage by tampering with the potion.

"He was saving his own skin as much as anything!" Sirius seethed, there was no way Snivellus would ever tamper with something to keep a werewolf at bay. That excuse for a human was likely to make enough batches for every werewolf in the world if it kept him having to deal with another, yet it was far more likely he'd be part of the hunting party for the other days of the month instead. No need to twist a selfish act into one of mercy.

Yet he'd kept him healthy, he must be grateful.

'Must be,' the words echoed heavily in the back of Lily's mind. She had no more delusions than his best friends Remus was likely fooling himself, or at the very least he was speaking the truth in that moment and merely exaggerating the rest to placate Harry.

Harry insisted Snape wouldn't dare do anything otherwise with Dumbledore right there.

Lupin had a faint smile in place now as he said Harry was determined to hate him, he had inherited an old prejudice.

"Not that he had to," James reminded foully. If Snape had just grown up at some point, been an actual teacher, or even just a passing human to his son, he liked to think he wouldn't have had half the vile feelings for him. Instead, such a hatred even his teenage self hadn't possessed grew for this future slimeball with every year Harry aged.

By all means Harry could tell Dumbledore what he had to Arthur and himself, but do not expect him to share your view of the matter; do not even expect him to be surprised by what you tell him. It might have been on Dumbledore's orders that Severus questioned Draco.

Celestina ended her song on a very long, high-pitched note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, which Mrs. Weasley joined in with enthusiastically.

Fleur loudly asked if it was finally over? It had been such a horrible-

Arthur quickly jumped in it was time to have a nightcap. Who wanted eggnog?

Harry turned back to Lupin and asked what he'd been up to while everyone else stretched and broke into normal conversation.

Remus, if possible, tensed up even more uneasily. Harry sure knew how to flip topics to something even worse, not that he'd imagined that possible moments ago.

Harry glanced from him, to the two very resigned expressions of his father and godfather. He'd been wondering on this for ages and had a pretty good idea himself now, but never had the gall to ask for more details because Remus got that same expression in place like he'd rather eat a live dragon than tell him. Harry only briefly got a second to wonder at the change of Lupin casually telling him then and Remus so resistant to it now before Lily continued without the least bit of enthusiasm.

Lupin calmly said underground, literally. That's why he hadn't a chance to write, it would have been something of a giveaway.

Harry had no clue what he meant, and Lupin supplied he'd been with his equal. When Harry's look of incomprehension continued, Lupin finally flat out said werewolves.

Remus still had it in him to be just simply pleased that wasn't Harry's first thought like it would any others. He thought even Lily still fell for it from time to time, but Harry never failed to surprise him that wasn't his first impulse to think of him as other. Only three others in the past had ever been the same.

Nearly all of them were on Voldemort's side, and Dumbledore needed a spy within, and here he was, ready-made.

"Literally," he finished for himself with a twisted smile.

He sounded a little bitter, and perhaps realized it, for he smiled more warmly as he went on he was not complaining, it was necessary work and who else was there to do it? It was difficult though, gaining their trust, he bore the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards.

"Err," Harry muttered in confusion for what that could mean, but so low he honestly hoped no one had heard him. He could already tell this wasn't a topic anyone else wanted to be a part of.

Remus did anyways, and after heaving a sigh, decided he may as well so long as they were on this. "The wand, for starters. It's, well, it's not like we can sense others can do magic, but it's more like how an animagus can read an animal's body language better than most. We'd just know whether one used magic more frequently than your common muggle, or werewolf," he finished with that same bitter edge. "I'm a very special case Harry, most of my kind don't even get as far as owning a wand, or if they have, certainly not retained it as long as I have."

James and Sirius held very uncharacteristic, steadfast straight expressions. They'd had the argument with Moony many a times not to defer to himself like an animal, but he always circled back to it somehow. The problem was, never experiencing the sensation themselves of what he was describing, they had no way to rebuke him this time.

Harry nodded quickly to show he understood and waived his mother on, no one wanted to linger on this topic.

Harry asked why they followed Voldemort, and Lupin explained they'd been promised a better life under his rule. It was hard to argue when Greyback said something, and he was the loudest speaker of this.

Remus' face twisted so that it looked truly brutal, and Harry had to fight the urge to lean back in his seat with fright.

Harry asked who Greyback was.

"Ah the innocent," James couldn't help saying with disgust, wanting to cover Harry's ears from this in particular. His son had never for a moment treated Remus as anything different, to which they were all very grateful as they wouldn't know how to handle their child being afraid of him. Yet that reason seemed mainly because he hadn't grown up on any horror stories of the true beasts like so many others had, and he in no way wanted his son to hear the usual impression of the wizarding world on them.

Remus was surprised he hadn't heard of him, Fenrir Greyback was the most savage werewolf alive. He considered it his mission to bite and contaminate as many as possible, enough to overthrow wizards.

Harry's mouth opened with a rasping noise, even as he tried to hold back the worst of his shock. He'd watched first hand how horrible it seemed to carry the werewolf affliction, and there was someone out there trying to put it on others?!

Remus just nodded without surprise though. He'd never expected Greyback to change in the next twenty years.

Voldemort had promised him prey in return for his services. Greyback specialized in children. His philosophy was bite them young and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards. Voldemort has threatened to unleash him upon people's sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good results.

Lily couldn't force back a shiver, her hands wanting to convulse around her child instead of this book. It was ridiculous, she quickly convinced herself, he was safe upstairs in his crib. It didn't stop her stuttering for a few extra moments, almost drowning out her next words, but not quite.

Lupin paused and then said it was Greyback who bit him.

Sirius startled so hard he fell right out of his seat, James gasped liked he'd been strangled and ripped the page clean out of his wife's fingers while Lily hardly noticed, her face a ghastly pale in shock as she watched Remus in worry for his reaction.

He didn't have one, he just sat there with a very careful expression in place.

Too late he tried to hitch a look onto his face, but even he wasn't sure which one, and it didn't matter now. They'd all seen.

"You-you knew?" James rasped out as if someone still had their hands on his throat.

"The bloody, when, how-" Sirius was no more articulate in getting words out.

Remus buried his face in his hands for a moment, but requited he'd known he'd have to tell them eventually. He just hadn't wanted to do it so soon, he was still processing it himself. "I-" he looked guilty at Lily, but tried to meet James and Sirius' eyes at the same time, cleared his throat, and whispered, "it would be thirteen days ago now."

"While you and Sirius were out with the Order," Lily put together, seeing as the other two still seemed too frozen to even do this simple amount of counting.

It had certainly been the most bizarre twelve days of their life, even this news didn't quite trump Harry's arrival, but the sting was still there.

"Why didn't you tell us then!" James demanded.

"I still don't understand when you found out," Sirius insisted. "We were hardly out of each others..." he trailed off with a suddenly furious look on his face, and Remus nodded absently.

"What?" James groused, he and Lily had never even gotten this story until Gideon had come over a few days ago, and even then they'd only given the highlights to their fellow Order member. He'd been upstairs readying to put his infant down for the night when they'd arrived, and not ten minutes later, so had Harry.

Remus shrank away from both of them, and somehow found it easier to explain to Harry. "My jobs for the Order are a bit more, ah, fulfilling. Voldemort's power isn't absolute yet, and there are still some out there, all sorts of creatures trying to resist him. Sometimes with one of them, but more frequently lately by myself, I go to groups and make our side as appealing as possible on Dumbledore's behalf."

He hesitated with a half look at his friends, but tried to keep going casually, "the day you arrived, I'd gone to visit two werewolves, sisters. Sirius had come with me at the last minute to be frank, but when we'd arrived, there'd already been someone there." He swallowed convulsively, his hands constricting in his lap just like they would twenty years later. "I only know of Greyback now by reputation, but a large one at that. There's a witch hunt for him, literally. He's been in the papers for months with this scheme of his getting more attention, and the sisters lived a village over from a family with three kids."

Sirius broke in with frustration, thinking Remus was going to go on all night explaining everything but what needed saying. "Greyback realized we were there a the same time as us. There was a crash, and he bolted out the back door. I went inside to check on the ladies, and Remus went after him."

Remus shifted in place but could no longer hold in the words he hadn't spoken aloud even when it happened. "I remember the day I was bitten vividly, and I saw his face that night. It was only a moment before he began to transform, but," he broke off with a wince and clearly didn't need to finish.

"And you didn't tell us?" Sirius insisted, the clear look of hurt still dominant. He briefly wondered if he'd somehow found this out for himself, and come to realize Remus never had told him. Had this been the start then, to not trusting Moony?

"It hasn't exactly come up," Remus said in clipped tones, but one glance at Harry made it rather apparent why he hadn't been gungho to share this particular revelation even after they'd known he trusted Remus.

Remus raked his fingers through his hair, probably adding a few gray streaks to match the lines still prominent on his face. "Look, I'm sorry alright, but can we please move past this. It's not something I've had to think about, and I've been rather grateful for that-"

"He's who you meant, isn't it?" Harry sharply input. "When you said someone told you you were pretending to be like us."

James and Sirius' expressions took on a new level of darkness, and Remus' scowl became more pronounced at Harry this time. "Yes," he finally answered. "He recognized me as well, and seemed to get quite a laugh out of it. We didn't exactly stick around for a nice long chat though, he bolted while I was just gaping like a fish after him, then Sirius found us," he finished with an unnecessary jerk of his head to him.

Then he turned back to Lily sharply now, "are you all happy? Can we please move on from this, it's not as if it really makes a difference!"

Lily could tell he was still trying to lie to himself. She wanted more than anything to help, to soothe him he was no soldier of a war he didn't want, that he was not just another pawn of Fenrir's. She held herself back though with a loaded look at her husband, he was the one Remus needed to hear that from, not her.

Sirius didn't seem as likely to wait, he wanted to dig right into Moony this second and demand they have this conversation now, he wouldn't let Remus go on thinking about that monster for another second as anything like himself, but when Lily started again he forced himself to respect there was an audience. There weren't many things James wouldn't speak of in front of Lily, and even Remus' lycanthropy wasn't one of them, but their years of solitude in this topic still held no matter how many were added to their family. It used to be four, but the three of them needed to have this in private, and he'd just have to wait patiently for that.

Harry was astonished, confirming this happened back when he was a kid?

Lupin agreed, his father had offended him.

This they did know, this had been the only thing they'd known for a very long time, Lyall had offended a werewolf. Now the revelations of their future held a more bleak look than ever, it shouldn't have taken a Moony who no longer had anyone to call family to pass on such wisdom.

"Have you talked to Lyall about this?" Sirius hurled at him so sharp it could have been Padfoot barking.

"No," Remus didn't hesitate in answering, but then when regret colored his face he fully admitted to the truth, "I was going to though. I wanted to know, if he'd known, and never," he sighed deeply. "I was going to go head there, after our next Order meeting. Obviously I've yet gotten the chance, but now it seems likely he would have said something more about this than he's ever told me."

James still had a sour expression as he kept eyes on him and Sirius was physically biting his tongue to stop himself snapping Moony had really wanted to go to anyone else before them.

He could almost imagine it, stopping by Lyall Lupin's house one day as Remus grew more distant from him, his own suspicions forming of Sirius, and Lyall passing on this news himself, the man was as aware as anyone they all shared everything with each other, or so he'd thought. Sirius bit back that though and shoved it as far away from him as he could. So it had taken something other for Remus to admit to this now, Sirius firmly grasped the idea Remus would have told them this time much sooner. It wasn't entirely his fault it had come out before he was ready.

He had not known, for a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had attacked him; had even felt pity for the one, thinking that he had had no control, knowing by then how it felt to transform. But Greyback is not like that. At the full moon, he positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the werewolves. He could not pretend that his particular brand of reasoned argument was making much headway against Greyback's insistence that they as werewolves deserve blood, that they ought to revenge themselves on normal people.

Harry fiercely cut in he was normal! He just, he had a, a problem-

Lupin burst out laughing.

Even now Remus couldn't stop a little twitch of his lips, he'd seen both Sirius and James flaring up to snap that at him this second if Lily hadn't finished for them.

Lupin happily informed how much Harry reminded him of James, he called his lycanthropy a furry little problem in company. Many were under the impression he'd had a badly behaved rabbit.

Lily forced out a bit of a giggle she'd ever fallen for such a thing, but well, those boys were certainly convincing, and she hadn't even cared enough at the time to look any closer.

He accepted a glass of eggnog from Mr. Weasley with a word of thanks, looking slightly more cheerful,

"Can't imagine why being reminded of this git would put you in a good mood," Sirius tried for that same look now, at least half managing it.

Harry, meanwhile, felt a rush of excitement: This last mention of his father had reminded him that there was something he had been looking forward to asking Lupin.

"Oh?" Remus asked with actual curiosity, anything was better than the last topic they'd been on.

"I've already asked you guys," Harry sighed, clearly that excitement wasn't going to reignite.

Harry asked if he'd heard of the Half-Blood Prince?

"Ah," the three boys muttered, while Lily smiled sardonically to herself Harry had the wrong parents friends. Her smile quickly turned sour as it remained obvious why he couldn't ask who he should be.

Lupin was confused at once while Harry was watching him closely for signs of recognition.

"It's not a very common title," James chuckled. "I'd like to think even Moony wouldn't have to think that hard about it."

"Implying?" Remus demanded.

"You once stared at the correct answer of a Potions ingredient for five minutes before putting together what you just read," Sirius helpfully reminded.

"Why do I put up with you lot?" Remus huffed.

Lupin was still smiling as he corrected Harry there were no Wizarding princes, then asked if this was a new title he was thinking of adopting?

"Ah, don't even joke that!" Harry protested while covering his ears. "The Daily Prophet might somehow overhear you!"

Remus snickered without looking very ashamed.

Harry indignantly returned it wasn't for him! Then he explained the Potions textbook he'd found, with spells all in it. He'd found the Levicorpus one-

Lupin reminiscently said that had been very popular during his time at school. There had been a few months where you couldn't walk five feet without being hoisted in the air by your ankle.

"By your own friends, by fellow students, you name it," James agreed unnecessarily, it didn't make it less funny.

Harry reminded his dad had done it, used it on Snape.

He tried to sound casual, as though this was a throwaway comment of no real importance, but he was not sure he had achieved the right effect; Lupin's smile was a little too understanding.

All four around Harry couldn't help the same look, not one they'd ever asked for, but present nonetheless.

Lupin agreed, as he'd said, it had been very popular.

Harry persisted it sounded as if it were invented during that time.

Lupin corrected jinxes went in and out of style just as anything. Then he went on to remind James had been a pureblood, and Remus promised he never expected to be called Prince.

"Captain maybe, Prongs certainly," Sirius made a face. "He had more than enough nicknames without adding to the list like whatever that mess means."

Harry dropped pretenses and confirmed it wasn't him or Sirius?

Lupin agreed definitely not.

Harry sighed with disappointment, and Lupin suggested he check the publishing date of the book, to give him an idea of when this Prince had been at Hogwarts.

"I wouldn't think so," James said in surprise. "We've been using this text for ages, and even though it would give some timeframe, like when it was not updated along with the rest, it's certainly not one narrow enough considering the past twenty years of students already."

"Better than no answer at all," Remus said without remorse.

Fleur chose then to start singing her own rendition of A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love, which made Molly seem to decide it was time for everyone to go to bed.

"Maybe she actually liked that one and was trying to help," Lily offered without any hope, it was clear the twos antagonistic sides were only getting stronger.

Harry and Ron climbed all the way up to Ron's attic bedroom, where a camp bed had been added for Harry.

Ron fell asleep almost immediately, but Harry delved into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old.

"Merlin, Voldemort could have bloody owned it," Sirius grumbled.****

Neither his father, nor his father's friends, had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago.

"See Remus, now you've gone and managed to make it worse!" James scowled.

Lily bit down on her lip, trying to make her expression look like she was thinking hard rather than fighting back laughter. She hoped this would be the end of it, she wasn't sure how much longer before she burst from so much held in laughter over this.

Feeling disappointed, Harry threw the book back into his trunk, turned off the lamp, and rolled over, thinking of werewolves and Snape, Stan Shunpike and the Half-Blood Prince, and finally falling into an uneasy sleep full of creeping shadows and the cries of bitten children. . . .

Lily couldn't hold any face anymore except horror for that. The saddest part is, considering other dreams where he'd watched Muggles be murdered or Death Eaters be tortured, this was probably one of his more minor ones!

Remus winced as well, if possible even harder, that he'd been the cause of that. Had he and Harry ever had one conversation that didn't hurt everyone?

Harry woke with a start to find a bulging stocking lying over the end of his bed. He put on his glasses and looked around; the tiny window was almost completely obscured with snow and, in front of it, Ron was sitting bolt upright in bed and examining what appeared to be a thick gold chain.

Sirius wolf whistled, while James snickered in surprise. "Didn't know Ron was such the posh type."

"I imagine he'll love it," Remus said snidely. "It's his favorite color."

"Any color except maroon's his favorite," Harry said while trying to fight back a smile.

Harry asked what that was, and Ron gave the revolted reply it was from Lavender.

Harry looked more closely and let out a shout of laughter, dangling from the chain in large gold letters were the words: My sweetheart

"Merlin's jewelry," Lily muttered, crinkling her own nose up in a bit of revulsion.

"Have I mentioned lately how grateful I am to you Lily Flower," James muttered with a torn expression like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be laughing. It was, sweet, kind of...

Remus and Sirius had no such restraints and full blown burst out laughing. Remus nearly fell out of his seat with such amusement, he'd really needed a release.

Harry complimented how classy it was, he should definitely parade that in front of the twins.

Ron shoved it out of sight while stammering at him if he told anyone, he'd, he'd...

"Stutter at him some more?" James chuckled.

Harry asked stutter at him while grinning.

The pair grinned at each other, completely ignoring Sirius considering they knew exactly what he was saying.

Ron went on demanding of thin air why she'd do this?

Harry told him to think back and recall if he'd ever spoken the words he wanted My Sweetheart round his neck?

"What bloke hasn't at some point or another?" Remus snickered, clearly still enjoying this for all its worth.

Ron hesitated a bit before saying they didn't do much talking, it was mainly snogging.

"That's a healthy relationship," Lily and Sirius unintentionally said at the same time, before the two scowled at each other for using such opposite tones.

He hesitated a moment, then asked if Hermione was really going out with McLaggen?

"Wonder where his mind's really at," James laughed.

Harry gave the honest reply they'd been at Slughorn's party together, but it hadn't seemed to go well.

Ron looked slightly more cheerful as he delved deeper into his stocking.

"I wonder if Ron got Lavender anything," Lily murmured.

"I'm sort of doubting it, but if he did, my money's on a matching pair," Remus suggested with still twitching lips.

Harry's presents included a sweater with a large Golden Snitch worked onto the front, hand-knitted by Mrs. Weasley, a large box of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products from the twins, and a slightly damp, moldy-smelling package that came with a label reading To Master, From Kreacher.

"Eh?" Sirius muttered while jerking in surprise, sure he'd heard that wrong.

"Never done that before has he?" James clarified, though he was quite sure himself, this was not a usual house-elf tradition.

"Throw it out the window Harry," Sirius said at once, and Harry was a bit concerned he didn't seem to be joking. "He's never even given anything to me mum!"

"Remember Hermione gave him something last year," Lily offered, "maybe Kreacher thinks it's expected of him now."

Sirius still didn't look remotely pleased, muttering about poison, though to the elf or Harry she didn't care to listen to.

Harry asked if it was safe, while Ron said it should be as their mail was still being checked, but he looked just as suspicious.

"Well that's, nice," Lily tried to say with more optimism, but was fooling no one, even she couldn't imagine this was really a good thing.

Harry prodded the parcel carefully as he said he hadn't gotten Kreacher anything, did people normally do that?

Ron pointed out Hermione would, but Harry should check what it was before he went feeling guilty.

"Sound advice," Remus nodded along.

A moment later, Harry had given a loud yell and leaped out of his camp bed; the package contained a large number of maggots.

"Urgh!" Lily scowled, having the urge to drop the book in disgust.

"Memorable," James said tastefully.

Sirius however got a rather cruel expression in place that still managed to hold a colorful tone, "thanks for the idea! He really is a lovely soul!"

"I don't want to know where you plan on keeping those maggots until holiday," Remus grumbled.

Ron burst out with laughter at once while Harry pleasantly reminded he'd rather have those than that necklace.

"Honestly, a tough choice at this point," Sirius huffed while weighing the two options in his hand, and the necklace seemed to be winning.

Everybody was wearing new sweaters when they all sat down for Christmas lunch,  except Fleur,

Lily harrumphed harshly. Molly was being just cruel now. Even if she didn't like Fleur, she should still show some decorum and do all she could to welcome her to the family, and this was just blatantly rude!

James had much the same expression in place. He'd never really respect Molly again after the way she'd treated Sirius, but he'd at least valued her for what she meant to his son. Turns out it wasn't all open hospitality though and she'd turn on anyone she didn't like.

(on whom, it appeared, Mrs. Weasley had not wanted to waste one) and Mrs. Weasley herself, who was sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch's hat glittering with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace. Fred and George had gotten them for her, the two quickly saying they'd been happy to do it, considering how much they appreciated her lately. It was certainly more a chore for them without her doing their socks.

"It does tend to earn a mother some respect," James said a bit wistfully, his would never have the chance to do so again.

"Sirius has yet to learn it," Remus rolled his eyes. Those kinds of chores had gone from his house-elf, to Hogwarts, to himself. He had no clue how Sirius would ever get by on his own at this rate.

Ginny cheerfully passed by Harry telling him he had a maggot in his hair,

"That's the sort of thing I look forward to hearing every Christmas," James quickly snickered to break out of his memories.

leaning across the table to pick it out; Harry felt goosebumps erupt up his neck that had nothing to do with the maggot.

"Are you sure? Cause I'm feeling a little of them," Lily shivered at the idea. Putting them in a potion was one thing, the idea of them lingering in her hair!

Ron offered the gravy boat to Fleur, but the moment he went to do so he knocked it flying. Fleur told him he was as bad as Tonks.

"To her it sure seems," Sirius chuckled.

"He's never been clumsy round anyone else though, not even Hermione," James mock pouted.

"Well don't let her hear you saying that!" Remus burst out before laughing just as hard, clearly determined to remain in a good mood now even when his friends kept shooting him a look saying their previous conversation wasn't done. Remus just didn't care, he actually felt relieved he'd finally told someone, like a weight lifted away.

Mrs. Weasley harshly cut in she'd invited Tonks along today, but she'd refused. Then she asked if Remus had spoken to her lately?

Harry rubbed at the back of his head where a slight ache was starting to build, and he glanced in concern at Remus, wishing he could to Tonks as well. What was that about, was Tonks really in some sort of danger? Did Remus know something about it? He certainly felt like he was missing a connection between the two...

Lupin hardly looked up from his food as he said he'd been under the impression she'd be with her family today.

Molly corrected she'd heard she was in fact alone today.

"Oh!" Lily yelped in concern, how was it Tonks' problem kept getting worse the more they heard about it!

"Please tell me this gets resolved soon, I don't think I can take much more depressing news," Sirius groaned, his little cousin didn't deserve this at all, whatever this was!

She gave Lupin an annoyed look, as though it was all his fault she was getting Fleur for a daughter-in-law instead of Tonks, but Harry, glancing across at Fleur, who was now feeding Bill bits of turkey off her own fork, thought that Mrs. Weasley was fighting a long-lost battle. He was, however, reminded of a question he had with regard to Tonks, and who better to ask than Lupin, the man who knew all about Patronuses?

"I wouldn't say all about them," Remus said distractedly. "I've done a bit of studying on the matter, but no more than your average-"

"Enough that you wrote two essays on the topic, so I'd say you're on your way to it," Sirius inserted.

Harry told him Tonks' Patronus had changed, according to Snape. Why would that happen?

Lupin took his time chewing before answering a great shock or emotional upheaval had been known to cause this.

Harry got a slight grin, one he couldn't quite explain to himself of Remus talking about this, but he chalked it up to that being almost the exact answer he'd given when Harry asked earlier.

An idea occurred to Harry then, and he started to ask if that Patronus could have been-

Mrs. Weasley shrieked Arthurs name at that moment.

Sirius huffed at Harry being interrupted for Molly's stupid scoldings, and asked, "well?"

"You," Harry finished simply, but he was now quite sure that wasn't the right animal. Lingering on what it could be however instantly implanted that headache again, and he huffed in frustration something so simple was still alluding him.

She had risen from her chair; her hand was pressed over her heart and she was staring out of the kitchen window where Percy was heading their way.

Lily balked at the words, sure she'd read them wrong, but then a beaming smile lit her face. Percy had picked the best day of the year to finally try and reconnect with his family!

None of the rest of the boys looked even remotely as hopeful, Harry's expression was the most reserved of all, as if he already wished this conversation was done with before it started.

Mr. Weasley looked around. Everybody looked quickly at the window; Ginny stood up for a better look. There, sure enough, was Percy Weasley, striding across the snowy yard, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight. He was not, however, alone, but with the Minister.

"He- what?" Sirius squawked.

"What on Earth-" Remus tried to mutter, but Lily was already going on again, fidgeting with the pages nervously now. She was still hoping for a tear-filled reunion of a family, but Scrimgeour's appearance had only somehow made the whole thing uneasier, as if that were possible.

And sure enough, the man Harry had seen in the Daily Prophet was following along in Percy's wake, limping slightly, his mane of graying hair and his black cloak flecked with snow. Before any of them could say anything, before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could do more than exchange stunned looks, the back door opened and there stood Percy.

There was a moment's painful silence. Then Percy said rather stiffly a Merry Christmas to his mother.

Lily sighed heavily, wanting to give the poor thing a hug. Whatever the reason he was there, it didn't seem to be making up with his father then, though she wanted to smile nonetheless he was speaking to his mother after such a cold shoulder over the past year.

Mrs. Weasley threw herself into his arms without restraint.

Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick and smiling as he observed this affecting scene. He apologized for the intrusion, they'd been in the vicinity working and Percy had insisted on dropping by.

"Right," James drew the word out with mounting suspicion, but he really couldn't even decide of what. There was nothing immediately wrong with what he'd said, it seemed Percy's type to even work on holiday, but as the Weasley hadn't exactly shown up with open arms and begging his family's forgiveness, something felt off.

But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the rest of the family. He stood, poker- straight and awkward-looking, and stared over everybody else's heads. Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George were all observing him, stony-faced.

Mrs. Weasley offered them both to come in and sit down, offering him some purkey or tooding?

"That doesn't sound bad at all," Sirius said with forced enthusiasm, imagining a turkey pudding now as his next holiday treat instead of the awkwardness living in such a warm place to his godson, it was like being back in Grimmauld place.

Scrimgeour said there was no need, they really were here for a quick moment. He'd just take a stroll around the garden, surely someone would accompany him, and then they'd have their leave. He asked if that young man would, the one with the empty plate.

"I'll give you three guesses who he picked, and if you need the first two, I can't help you with your life," James huffed.

The atmosphere around the table changed perceptibly. Everybody looked from Scrimgeour to Harry.

Lily couldn't help but stop and rub at her eyes in frustration for a moment. She never could just have one nice thing transpire. This really all had been some ploy for Scrimgeour to see Harry for some reason, and Percy had only been involved for his name, not because of any desire on his part to see his family, and that was honestly the most heartbreaking thing she'd heard in ages now.

Nobody seemed to find Scrimgeour's pretense that he did not know Harry's name convincing, or find it natural that he should be chosen to accompany the Minister around the garden when Ginny, Fleur, and George also had clean plates.

"I'd have picked George on principle, there's two of him, so a spare!" Remus forced out another uneasy laugh, quite frustrated how hard it was to do so soon again.

Harry agreed, though he was not fooled, and was now sure this was the real reason for Percy's appearance. He whispered it was fine to Lupin as he passed, who had already half risen from his chair.

"Thank you Moony," James muttered, though Remus nodded without a change in that hard expression. He completely understood why Harry wouldn't want him out there with him, but this was still one of the most genuinely good things he'd ever done to try and be there for Harry. No attendance in Hogwarts, he'd been voluntarily trying to help, and still been denied. Not that he could blame him, he'd always done better on his own, the only person remotely likely to go out there with him at this point was Ron.

He said the same to Arthur as he passed, then was walking across the yard toward the Weasleys' overgrown, snow-covered garden, Scrimgeour limping slightly at his side. He had, Harry knew, been Head of the Auror office; he looked tough and battle-scarred, very different from portly Fudge in his bowler hat.

"I'm sure," Sirius said tartly, his hands flexing uncomfortably like he wasn't sure if he should be wringing them with worry, or already wringing someone's neck.

They stopped just at the gate, Scrimgeour calling it charming.

Harry said nothing, letting the Minister start that he'd wanted to meet Harry for a very long time now, had he known that?

"Can't really say I'm surprised," Lily said slowly, though she couldn't really imagine Scrimgeour's motives. Hadn't Fudge mentioned something about this though, all the way back at the beginning in that Muggle Minister's office. She'd thought Harry's name had come up in conjunction with Scrimgeour having better luck at...something. Apparently they were fixing to find out.

Harry truthfully answered no, while Scrimgeour continued it was Dumbledore that had stopped this happening, he was very protective of him,

"Least that man can do one thing right," Remus sneered, but quietly enough Lily didn't stop.

which was natural of course, after what had happened at the Ministry.

He waited for Harry to say something, but Harry did not oblige.

"Can't imagine much to say about that," James said harshly, more for his voice trying to constrict again at those events once more being played through his mind.

Scrimgeour continued about the rumors always around him, being the Chosen One!

"Must every single bloody person he meets bring that up?" Sirius demanded, already wanting to knock this one over and be done with the conversation.

They were getting near it now, Harry thought, the reason Scrimgeour was here.

He assumed Harry and Dumbledore had discussed all this?

"It would be obtuse to assume otherwise," Lily sniffed, what was he fishing for?

Harry deliberated, wondering whether he ought to lie or not. He looked at the little gnome prints all around the flowerbeds, amid the scuffed-up patch that marked the spot where Fred had caught the gnome now wearing the tutu at the top of the Christmas tree. Finally, he decided on the truth ... or a bit of it, admitting they'd discussed it.

Scrimgeour was unsurprised, and Harry turned to avoid eye contact, pretending to be very interested in a gnome that had just poked its head out from underneath a frozen rhododendron.

Scrimgeour then asked what Dumbledore had said about this?

"Don't rightly see how that's his business," James said at once. He didn't much like what Dumbledore had to say these days either, but it was between Dumbledore and Harry, and he and Lily to be honest, though that was a bit of another matter.

Harry said that was between them.

Scrimgeour forced a continued polite, friendly tone as he said of course, it didn't even really matter if he was the Chosen One anyways.

Sirius was starting to shift impatiently, he wanted to get to the actual point of this as much as he wanted to walk away already! Why was that the only thing their current Minister of Magic wanted to talk about?! If he'd had time to hope for anything, he'd have liked to think Harry would be told something prudent about any attempts looking for Voldemort!

Harry had to mull that one over for a few seconds before responding he wasn't sure what the Minister wanted.

Scrimgeour answered others still did want a Chosen One, it was all perception of course. What other people believed, that was important.

Remus' lip curled with disgust, he'd had more than enough of what people believed thank you, it was high time they got someone around to realize what actually mattered were facts, not whatever emotion was relevant at the time.

Harry said nothing. He thought he saw, dimly, where they were heading, but he was not going to help Scrimgeour get there.

"Is, is he really wanting to pretend everything's hunky dory just like Fudge?" Sirius demanded.

"I don't think that's quite it," James disagreed. "More like he's trying to get Harry to help them along with things seeming more under control than they are. Like Arthur said, nothing's really changed since the new Minister, and that's got to be frustrating by now. He's looking for a ploy-"

"Or a poster boy," Harry finished sourly, not at all soothed his father so easily picked up on his own idea so quickly, it didn't make the outcome any better.

The gnome under the rhododendron was now digging for worms at its roots, and Harry kept his eyes fixed upon it.

Scrimgeour continued Harry was something of a hero, considering how many times he'd bested You-Know-Who, chatting on without waiting for a reply to that,

"For once," Remus huffed, all of them shivering at that number.

the point was he was a symbol. Naturally this was a gift to be used, almost a duty for him to be standing alongside the Ministry.

"Duty my arse!" Sirius tried to growl, but his face puckered almost as soon as the words came out, and he quickly muttered he hadn't meant it like that.

"Thank you Padfoot, that about summed up this whole situation," Harry at least got a mild laugh out of it even while the others rolled their eyes at him.

The gnome had just managed to get hold of a worm. It was now tugging very hard on it, trying to get it out of the frozen ground. Harry was silent so long that Scrimgeour said, looking from Harry to the gnome, weren't they funny little things. Then prompted what Harry had to say to that.

Harry slowly said he wasn't quite sure what Scrimgeour did want.

"The fact that he wants something at all," Lily couldn't help but say through gritted teeth, so sick and tired of everyone in the world always wanting to use her son for something! Always their own agendas to contend with, never allowed to enjoy one thing to himself like a bleeding holiday now!

Scrimgeour at once said it was nothing onerous at all! Just popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, it would give the right impression! Of course it would be ample opportunistic as well, Gawain Robards, his successor in the Head of Aurors office, was looking for an introduction himself. Dolores Umbridge,

Lily choked on that name with shocked disgust even before she'd got it out, as if her throat had suddenly been stuffed with a bag of sugar. "That woman shouldn't be let around criminals, let alone those children for a year! How does she still have a job!"

"Unless he finishes that sentence with, has her head tacked to the ceiling, I don't want to hear it," James agreed, fighting back the compulsion to draw his son close to him once more for all she'd done to him. Leaving a permanent mark on his hand, threatening him with an Unforgivable, not to mention her sickening presence poisoning their very thoughts when her name was mentioned.

had told of his ambition to be an Auror, this could easily be arranged and fast tracked-

"No need to even finish school!" James mocked. "Being the Ministry's stooge is as good as you can ever get!"

Harry shook his head lowly for this, for everyone around him getting worked up over it on his behalf, it was as heartwarming as Scrimgeour had been infuriating.

Harry felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach: So Dolores Umbridge was still at the Ministry, was she?

"Honestly, what did Scrimgeour hope to gain from telling that!" Remus had to fight hard not to shout that and wasn't doing a very good job.

"I quite vividly remember her spending that lesson telling McGonagall about his criminal record keeping him out of the Ministry," Sirius viciously reminded. "Exactly how many faces does she have to be chatting about that casually now? I'll enjoy ripping every one of them off, so the more the merrier!"

Harry still kept a polite tone as he asked the Ministry wanted to make it seem he was working for them?

Scrimgeour repeated it would give the right impression, it was all about giving people hope! The feeling something exciting was happening.

"Last time that bloody happened the same Ministry was denying Voldemort's return amidst a fantastic school regime!" Lily thundered. "I am so sick and tired of every one of them caring nothing but what others think! Is it so impossible to have someone of actual action in place?"

"I'm at a loss," James agreed, truly seeming that way as there seemed no true answer, even now the Ministry was just scrambling to even have a face, let alone shining one up in Harry's time.

Harry still endeavored to keep a friendly tone as he pointed out if he kept going in and out of the Ministry, it would seem he approved of what they were doing.

Scrimgeour agreed that was partly-

But Harry cut in that wouldn't do at all, as he didn't approve of their choices. Locking up Stan Shunpike for instance.

Scrimgeour's face soured as he told he did not expect that to be understood by a sixteen year old.

"Of course he wouldn't, how dare someone question a thing! We should all just line up and wait to be told what to do, you bloody..." Remus trailed off into more mutterings Harry hadn't a care to distinguish anymore.

Harry countered Dumbledore didn't think he should be locked up either.

Scrimgeour no longer pretended at a pretense as he confirmed that like his hero Dumbledore, Potter was choosing to disassociate himself from the Ministry?

"Can you blame him?!" Lily was doing no better a job at keeping her voice under control, it was very near hitting screaming levels. "All they've ever done is abuse him left and right, and while you can't blame the whole damn building for the Ministers actions, this conversation alone has only shown no one's getting any better at looking to you as a ruddy person rather than another tool!" She was so enraged she wanted to march up there right now and quit her job on the spot in protest, or run for Minister herself just to finally get something done.

Harry flatly said he did not want to be used.

Scrimgeour snapped some would say it was his duty to be used by the Ministry!

"Those people need to be shoved into a toilet until they realize otherwise," James most of all got a mock pleasant air into place as he happily informed this.

Harry countered others might say it would do to check who was and wasn't a Death Eater before chucking them in Azkaban, he was just as bad as Barty Crouch!

Sirius blanched at the reminder, but it was impossible to tell if his shaking was from more anger or the idea being brought up again of his soon to be fate. If they'd had any misgivings before, they were all confident now why Harry took Stan as such a personal offense.

Harry raised his right fist. There, shining white on the back of his cold hand, were the scars which Dolores Umbridge had forced him to carve into his own flesh: I must not tell lies.

Lily's hand flexed convulsively across the binding, even if she'd never forgotten this. What she owed that woman, for doing that to her child, to so many kids...

Harry stated he had not forgotten last year, when no one was rushing to his defense.

Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind he regretted his harsh words, he had no real idea what Scrimgeour had been thinking at the time, if he'd been like Arthur, Tonks, and surely others inside the Ministry not approving of what they had to do. It wasn't enough though to stop him rubbing his hand now in remembrance, the rest of his mind filled with anger Scrimgeour wasn't even man enough to offer an apology on behalf of that, not that it would have meant anything to him.

They stood in silence as icy as the ground beneath their feet. The gnome had finally managed to extricate his worm and was now sucking on it happily, leaning against the bottom most branches of the rhododendron bush.

Remus' face spasmed, like some part of him wanted to laugh and enjoy this with Harry, something as simple as a beasts life continuing in the background like all gnomes would no matter what happened among wizard's lives. Sometimes he almost couldn't blame werewolves who lived apart from all this, who wanted nothing to do with either side of the war.

Scrimgeour briskly demanded what was Dumbledore up to? Where did he go outside of Hogwarts?

"Why, in his senile old mind, would he even ask at this point?" James demanded, still trying extremely hard to keep a smile in place even if it was looking more painful all the time. "You'd think he'd turn tail and run, but apparently even that's above his understanding."

Harry said no idea, and he wouldn't tell if he did.

Scrimgeour threatened he'd find out eventually, but Harry parted the wisdom Fudge had tried interfering with Dumbledore as well. He was no longer Minister, but Dumbledore was still headmaster.

"Ha!" Sirius let out a deep bark of triumphant laughter that was echoed in the room. Even with their rather morbid feelings to this lately, they could appreciate that.

There was a long pause, then Scrimgeour said in a cold voice Potter was Dumbledore's man through and through.

As if water dumped on a flame, all their anger fizzled out to just be replaced with an empty feeling. There was once a time where they all would have claimed as such, their loyalties with the man who would get them through this war, who allowed anyone in his ranks because he cared about them as people and saw good in everyone. It was daunting, genuinely unsettling that some part of them now worried over this like a dog with a bone, his true intentions with Harry, leaving him at Privet Drive and so many other instances now having an effect that could not be erased. Lily sniffled slightly as she tried to finish without letting it all overwhelm her, just trying to get through these moments with her son before tackling the larger issues of it all.

Harry agreed he was, and turning his back on the Minister of Magic, he strode back toward the house.

"My, my, Harry," Lily forced herself to finally settle back down as she passed the book along to James. "You certainly know how to have a first introduction to people."

"As if that's anything new," James rolled his eyes as he flipped the page.

HPHPHPHP

*Hello again depressing foreshadowing! Last time a knife went to someone and just missed was Sirius.

** I once saw someone write a whole essay on why Wolfstar was cannon because of this scene. The highlights were this was his and Sirius' favorite time of year, and after the way Sirius acted in the last book, and that was his last Christmas, a lovesong playing in the background and then the bachelor being mentioned, I can't help but spread a little of that love into these parts, even if they could still be read as friends messing with each other as well. Sadly as far as cannon is concerned he's likely thinking about Tonks right now, but I still kind of indulge in thinking otherwise. Wish I could find that stinking article again, but I was terrible about keeping record of such things from way back when before I started writing regularly.

***Please don't take James' insult too harshly, those are actually my second favorite bird and I plan to own one someday, and his name will be Fletching. After all the insults to toads done in this series though, and that's not even done, I hope you guys don't ever think I mean them against the poor animals who don't deserve it.

**** That was actually my running theory while reading, Voldemort had managed to get another book into the school, though I wasn't really convinced this one was possessing Harry. The title fit anyways.

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

Completely Enamoured

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x reader

Request: hi!! can I please request a Charlie x reader where he gets jealous when another team's seeker starts cozying up to the reader. Charlie tries to get himself in between her and the guy at all costs - saying that you are his best friend afterall and you, oblivious, agrees with him. Charlie's final trick is involving the twins, and he instructs them to sit on either of you and the guy during lunch until he leaves. Charlie confesses afterwards, after much teasing from the twins 😁

A/N: Thank you Anon!! I l o v e Charlie Weasley and I hope I did your request justice (sorry I deviated a little)!! Also, I really do want to do a part two to this, where they tell his family about them (maybe as they graduate), let me know if you’d like that!! Edit: Part Two Here!

Wordcount: 1.6k

Requests are still open!

…

Charlie laughed at a joke she had made, admiring the way she smiled proudly, hair blowing around her face in the wind as it grew stronger. He tried to ignore it, to remind himself that they were just friends, but every time she looked at him, or said his name, his heart went into overdrive and he thought he would die if he didn’t kiss her. But he knew that she wouldn’t feel the same, and he didn’t want to sacrifice their friendship over feelings that he was sure he could put away, eventually, even if he hadn’t been able to in the seven years they had known each other.

Bill had known Charlie’s secret – he said it was obvious, that he was near enough tripping over his own feet to be close to her, always sitting a little too close or laughing a little too long. He had tried to convince Charlie to tell y/n how he felt, he said he was sure that she felt the same way too, but Charlie wasn’t sure that could be true. Alas, Bill had left Hogwarts with the pair still not together, with Charlie still pining after her painfully, unable to help anymore.

Which was why, when the Hufflepuff seeker sat next to her when they were studying in the library together, trying to flirt with her after his house’s spectacular win in the Quidditch match, he knew he couldn’t let it happen, even if he knew it was wrong he couldn’t control the jealousy that told him to interfere, to protect y/n. And so, he turned to the trouble-makers that were his twins for help.

“Listen, I just don’t think he has good intentions and I don’t want her to get hurt.” Charlie explained to the twins as their young faces looked back at him with scepticism written all over their faces.

“Yeah, he has the intention of stealing your girl.” George smirked, and Fred laughed loudly at the look on Charlie’s face. He stuttered, trying to deter his younger brothers from this subject, but they were as persistent as Bill had been.

“Don’t worry Charlie, Bill told us everything.” Fred spoke up. “You and y/n would be cute together, we’ll help.”

“Plus, when have we ever turned down an opportunity for mayhem?” George grinned. Charlie sighed in relief, patting them both on the shoulder in thanks as he began to lay out the plan to them.

…

y/n was walking through the corridors with John, the Hufflepuff seeker who had turned his attentions on to her a few days prior. They were having a polite conversation between the two of them, interesting enough, but nowhere near as engaging and entertaining as the conversations she always had with Charlie, she thought as they walked towards the greenhouses.

While she was looking away across the grounds he reached his hand out, intending to grab hers in it, when a foul smell filled the air, causing him to cough and for y/n to turn around. She spotted the two redheads running away and laughed, cursing them loudly. She started her journey to the greenhouses again, noticing that John seemed a little put-out.

“Aw come on, we were just the victims of a prank.” She laughed, glad that they were out of the vicinity of the dungbomb now. John’s smile, however, had still not returned.

“I just think it’s childish.” He said, and she rolled her eyes.

“They are children, they’re twelve.” She chastised, and he shrugged, not arguing any further but clearly not agreeing. After a few minutes of silence, he struck up another conversation, the same polite tone as before.

Charlie watched from behind, unable to help the smile on his face as he noticed that y/n made sure to leave a little more distance between the two than there was before, and how both of their hands stayed firmly at their sides.

…

The weather had broken into a nice spell, for what the students knew would only be a few days, and y/n and John were sat next to the lake, enjoying the sunshine as she had a book out in front of her which she seemed to be talking about animatedly, and John seemed to be listening along with a very limited interest.

Charlie was watching, jealousy simmering inside of him. He pushed down the waves as they came, pretending to be writing something on the parchment in front of him, until he heard her laugh carry over to him. The melodic sound of it carried through the air, and for a second he couldn’t help but have his spirits lifted, until he realised why she was laughing and who had caused it.

Unable to take it anymore, he stuffed his parchment and quill back into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he made his way across the grass, to where they were sat and she was still giggling to herself quietly.

“Hey, Charlie!” She beamed up at him, his heart faltering for a second at her dazzling smile.

“Hagrid has asked for our help with some of the creatures.” He lied on the spot, hoping that Hagrid would pick up on the cues and not tell her that he hadn’t, in fact, asked for any help. “Care to join?”

“Of course!” Within a second she had hopped up to join him, taking the hand that he offered to pull her up. “Bye John.” She waved, barely giving him another glance as they walked together, glad to be back in Charlie’s company. “You’ll never believe it, Charlie, I was reading Fantastic Beasts and telling John about Nifflers, he asked if they were dangerous.” She laughed loudly again, and Charlie couldn’t help but join her at the idea of an unfriendly Niffler. It lifted his heart when he thought that she had been spending her time with him still talking about the creatures that they both loved so much.

…

John had cornered her once again, asking to go and study together in the library, which she had reluctantly accepted, not seeing the harm if they would be sat there in silence. He didn’t seem to have the same idea, however, and kept starting conversations, pulling her away from the essay she was trying to finish.

“So I was in training the other day, and I managed to find the snitch in twenty minutes.” He started again, and she sighed inwardly. He spoke about Quidditch almost as much as Charlie spoke about dragons, but at least she cared about dragons.

“Oh, that’s impressive.” She smiled kindly, dipping her quill back into her ink. “I think I watched Charlie catch one in ten minutes before.” His mouth dropped open, but before he could respond two people had sat on either side of them, wearing identical smiles on their identical faces.

“Hi y/n” The twins said in unison, and she smiled at the both of them warmly.

“How can I help you?” she asked, putting her essay away, knowing that between the three of them, she would never have it finished.

“Well, remember when we were on the platform before our first year, and you offered to help us if we were ever struggling?” George started, and she nodded, remembering how pleased Molly had been at her offer.

“The time has come. We need your help in potions, if you’re willing.” Fred chimed in. She happily agreed, asking for a copy of their textbook as she started to explain the concepts they said they were struggling with. After five minutes, John looked extremely angry, and gathered his things in his arms promptly.

“I’ll catch up with you some other time I guess.” He huffed, storming out of the library in a way that made y/n have to stifle a giggle.

They stayed in the library for another hour or so, before she shepherded the twins back to the common room. Once they had entered, she saw a head turn towards her, a welcoming expression, and saying goodbye to Fred and George headed to join him.

“Charles, why have you had Fred and George tailing me for the last fortnight?” She asked, her voice light and teasing despite her accusation. He froze, heart pounding as panic flooded him at the thought that she had caught on to what he was doing.

“You know?” he asked.

“Of course I know!” There it was again, that laugh. The one which was a drug to him, one he wanted to hear forever. “Every time John gets close to me they’re there, and I know they don’t need help in potions.”

Despite his racing mind, he couldn’t find an excuse, a lie as to why he had, indeed, asked his brothers to keep the boy away from her. And so, in his own messy way, the truth came out.

“Well, I didn’t like that guy hanging around you. I don’t think he’s good for you. Actually, I don’t think any guy is good for you, except one. I, um, I happen to think that I am good for you, or I want to be, if you want that too.” He stumbled over his words, wishing this could have gone more smoothly for him. He was surprised, then, when she leapt forwards to press her lips to his, a kiss which short-circuited his brain and made him completely lost in her.

“Who would have thought, Charlie Weasley being interested in more than just dragons.” She teased when she pulled away, earning a laugh from him and a teasing pinch on her shoulder. She fell into his chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck, feeling like she was at home already. “Oh, I can’t wait until we tell Molly. Do you think she’ll cry? I think we can make her cry.”

[xyliane]

AUgust 7: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS 12 YEAR OLD

PROMPT THE SEVENTH: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS wait how can you childhood friends au killugon, I asked myself, forgetting that I had a whole-ass idea in my drafts already. this one’s a proper fic, too (minus editing cuz l o l it’s an AU writing challenge, not editing challenge). T, aged-up killugon, modern day au. ft ambiguous descriptions of social media, alluka, kalluto, and leorio in killua’s corner, and zushi and spinner in gon’s, brief discussion of getting plastered and dealing with a hangover. 5000 words.

0o0o0o0o0

The first sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Killua wakes up with a hangover.

This does not happen. Killua can count on one hand the number of times he’s gotten so drunk he’s had a hangover, and most of them are the fault of his little siblings. Little siblings who are now living together, whose couch he is currently painfully existing upon, half too hot and his toes way too cold. And the couch is too soft, an old secondhand thing he’d helped Alluka grapple up the stairs months ago after they found it outside an old dorm. He makes a notch in his very sore brain to blame the current situation on them. Kalluto might be kind enough to let a drunk big brother crash with them, but Alluka has a devious streak a mile wide.

Yeah. This is definitely their fault.

One eye slowly creaks open, surveying his surroundings through blurry vision. Nothing out of the ordinary here. He’s in the pajamas he’s left with Alluka forever ago, curled up under an old blanket he gave her for Nanika’s birthday. It’s covered in the Matrix code, all green letters on black wool. It barely covers him from chest to knees, which explains the cold toes.

Sunlight flickers through the curtains, cheerful and bright, and Killua pulls the blanket over his face. He’ll take cold toes over being blinded by his headache.

The second sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when a noise like a chainsaw burrowing through a marshmallow erupts from his phone buzzing on the coffee table, just barely out of reach.

Killua attempts to bury himself under the blanket. He’s not dealing with work today.

And then he remembers: He doesn’t have work. Work can’t bother him today. Not just because it’s a weekend—work never respected the sanctity of weekends, no matter that he was at least partially in charge and used to have a fancy degree hanging on his wall. He doesn’t have work anymore. Killua quit.

Which, well. That explains the hangover.

He’s still blaming his siblings.

His phone buzzes loud enough to break the sound barrier, and Killua decides, fuck it. He doesn’t have anything to lose. If it’s the-place-formerly-known-as-work, he can delete everything. If it’s Mom or Father, he can definitely delete everything. And maybe it’s a friendly person, congratulating him on giving up a job that for anyone else would have been an absolute money-making dream. He’ll delete those too.

It takes a few tries to unlock his phone, and it unfortunately involves opening his eyes, squinting against the glaring light of the screen. But once he does, he frowns. Maybe he’s seeing double. Or a hundredfold. Because he should not have this many notifications.

awwww cute, i hope u 2 find each other! the top one says. It has several hundred likes. Why is it in his notifications?

Scrolling down reveals that it’s not an anomaly.

wtf man how can you find a TWELVE YEAR OLD from FIFTEEN YEARS AGO.

Me and my mom went on a cruise around there once, it was really pretty!

this is so sweet T__T maybe this is him?

And then another hundred photos of brown-skinned men with varying degrees of shirt-wearing, all black haired and most of them buff in very appealing ways and all of them beaming at Killua.

“What the fuck,” Killua croaks as he scrolls through all of the images and messages. Maybe this is a dream. A really weird, hangover-induced dream about how little of a social life he has, that his phone is possessed by someone else’s. A warning of sorts, that he should never have installed any social media on his phone ever, not even for hookups.

The reason for all the notifications lies at the top of his own page. Just a few sentences, all-caps, with an image of an old crinkled photo of two boys on a tropical beach, grinning at the camera. Killua sees himself, white curly hair flying in all directions and pale skin sunburned and ruddy with the briny wind, happier than Killua can ever remember being. Next to him, one arm slung around his shoulders and the other holding a bucket full of seashells, is a brown-skinned boy with freckles dancing across his nose and the tops of his shoulders, brown eyes wide and laughing and black hair thick and spiked from some mix of wind and seawater and natural gravity defiance.

He didn’t know he still had this photo. It had followed him from childhood all the way through grad school, a carefully guarded keepsake hidden away from the watchful eyes of his parents and Illumi, before ending up in a box or a bag at some point in the last few years. Part of Killua thought he’d lost it in the move. He barely remembers much about being twelve, about the cruise he’d been forcibly dragged on. But he remembers…

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? yells the caption. WE WERE BEST FRIENDS FOR A WEEK WHEN I GOT DRAGGED ON A CRUISE BY MY ASSHOLE PARENTS. HE WAS 12 ON WHALE ISLAND 15 YEARS AGO. IF FOUND, DM IMMEDIATELY.

“Gon,” Killua breathes.

He gathers himself, wrapping the blanket around his head in a feeble protection against the morning, and lurches over to Alluka’s room.

He gets to bang on her door three times, confused spite winning out over his own pounding headache, before Kalluto appears out of their room, blinking blearily at Killua. “Shut up.”

Killua kicks Alluka’s door for good measure, and brandishes his phone in front of him like a weapon. “Not until you explain what the hell this is doing on the internet.”

Kalluto pales, then flushes, then pales again. “Oh. Um.”

At that, Alluka creaks her door open, guilty blue eyes far too awake for how close to noon it is. Killua kind of wants to kill her on principle alone. If he has to be hungover, so does everyone else.

“Explain,” he grinds out through his teeth.

The third and final sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Alluka puts on her most winning smile, the kind she uses to ward off angry customers and idiotic faux-academics on the internet. “Congratulations, Brother! I might have made you go viral.”

Killua throws his phone at her.

—————

Today’s going to be a good day, Gon decides. He’s been in the forests of East Gorteau for the better part of a month, which normally isn’t so bad. But this group has been…They’re nice enough, when Gon’s not spending half of his time explaining that, no, that species of plant does not make a good stew, and no, that species is endangered please don’t hunt them, and yes Gon is sure he doesn’t date his clients even after the hike, and no the reason the tent fell over again is because it wasn’t properly set up in the first place—

All of Aunt Mito’s complaints about tourists on Whale Island make so much more sense, now that Gon’s leading backwoods hikes.

But last night had been fun! Spinner had met the group at a pre-set campsite not far from their pickup so Gon hadn’t had to work the whole night, and he could relax with his friend over good food, more alcohol than he probably should have drunk, and not having to explain to Mrs. Yuldvin the difference between marijuana, buckeye, and poison oak again. Spinner had even taken care of the fire, although she had left him to rescue the Podomos siblings from the ruins of their tent with nothing more than a smirk and a wave. Nevertheless, Gon smiled through his headache all morning, because soon he’ll be home, and he can sleep.

Zushi is waiting in the parking lot once Gon’s done packing up the last of the gear and saying goodbye to Spinner, jeep idling while he flicks through his phone, thick eyebrows drawn together in increasing concern. He doesn’t even look up until Gon drops his pack onto the hood of the car, and he jolts so badly in surprise that he tosses his phone in the air.

“Are you okay?” Gon asks, and tries to peek at the screen.

Zushi pulls it up and away, a frantic look in his eyes. It won’t really keep Gon from seeing what’s happening, not if he wants to, but Zushi’s height is enough of a deterrent to make it hard. “You were gone way too long,” he says.

Gon leans against the hot metal of Zushi’s car. It wasn’t an unusual length for a trip, not really—this backcountry needs the length to be able to see and understand the region. Not to mention the Small Billed Swan preservation society keeping the whole place locked down except to authorized guides and trekkers. Zushi knows this. They’ve been roommates long enough that this isn’t even the longest time Gon’s been gone.

“You knew I’d be gone til today,” Gon says.

“Yeah, but…” Zushi’s eyebrows descend even further, scrunching his whole face up in worry. “You haven’t checked your phone, right?”

“No?” Even if he did have cell service, Gon never brings his own phone. He borrows Kite’s satellite phone, because it is more reliable and doesn’t need to be charged constantly.

“Okay. Well.” Zushi takes a deep breath, then another, one of Wing’s old meditation techniques. Despite his exhaustion and single-minded determination to sink into a real bed and sleep for a week, Gon feels a minor pang of worry. On breath three, he unlocks his phone and turns it towards Gon. “You’re a meme.”

On Zushi’s screen is a photo Gon can’t ever forget about. Backed by Whale Island’s sunbleached white beaches and the humid brilliant colors of summer, Gon sees himself—twelve, smiling from ear to ear, hair a mess from swimming and his shirt practically covered in sand from digging up all the seashells in his bucket. He’s got an arm around another boy, who’s caught mid-laugh so his blue eyes burn the same color as the sky, white curls even messier than Gon’s hair. They look like they’ve known each other their whole lives, like they’d still be best friends even if they haven’t seen or spoken to each other since the photo was taken.

Gon hopes Killua thinks so, too.

He cradles the phone in his hand, carefully zooming in on their faces and the errant crinkles visible through the photo. His own faded copy is in a drawer, having survived a whole trip around the world and countless apartment jumps. This one looks just as well cared for, in its own way.

“That…is you, right?” Zushi asks carefully. “Because Wing was asking, and half of Kite’s guide company is yelling about it on your social media page that you don’t even use, and now people are messaging me, and they’re saying the weirdest things, and the post is from last week, so—”

“It’s Killua,” Gon says. A smile spreads across his face, a mirror to the one he’d had when he was twelve. “That’s Killua!”

“Who?” the others ask, but Gon isn’t listening.

He spins, frantically searching his pockets for his phone. “Spinner, can you do me a favor?”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

Gon knew today was going to be a good day.

—————

It’s been a week, and Killua has quit all social media forever.

The steady buzz of his phone informing the apartment of his notifications is not his problem. Alluka’s the one who decided to hack into his phone and post something to his old public account, the one he mostly uses for photos of cats and complaining about terrible business precedents. He hasn’t posted much since school, and if anything, it should have simply vanished into the void of the internet.

He finds the culprit fairly quickly, and for once it’s not his sister’s moderate but dedicated video following.

“Old man, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Leorio lounges in Alluka and Kalluto’s living room, freshly out of his scrubs and looking pleased as all hell. “I just reblogged a fun post from my friend,” he says somewhat defensively. “You were a cute kid, Killua. What happened?”

Killua feels a growl creep up his throat. “You can’t just do that,” he snaps.

“It’s not my fault the people like my well-coiffed but rugged appearance and dedication to social justice in medicine.”

“You have 500,000 followers because you made a joke post two years ago, and some authorized user reblogged it five times. It has nothing to do with your ugly mug.” If Killua squints and plugs his ears, he can even see why people think Leorio’s attractive or whatever: tan skin, lean but strong as hell, actually takes care of his hair, not to mention a damn good doctor with one of the most prestigious institutions in Yorknew who spends most of his free time running health clinics in impoverished neighborhoods. That’s all swell. But then he starts talking, and Killua has no idea where the off button is.

Leorio spreads a hand out, gesturing vaguely with the glass of iced tea that he’d helped himself to out of Alluka’s stash. “It has everything to do with my ‘ugly mug,’” he says. “Which is why I used my powers for good and spread your post. Don’t you want to find him?”

“Not like this!”

“You were not going to find him at all,” Kalluto’s quiet voice pipes up from the kitchen. They have night classes tonight, but Killua has a feeling that even if they were supposed to be attending their Yorknew Uni lectures, they would still be here making Killua’s life worse. “You’ve had that picture for years, and you did not even try to look.”

Leorio gives him a judgmental look over the tops of his stupid tiny glasses. “You haven’t?”

It would be a losing game to bury his burning face in one of the throw pillows, so Killua does his best to cross his arms over his chest and glower instead. “I…tried.”

“And?”

“I don’t even know his last name!” Killua splutters. “I didn’t have his number or where he was from, other than his mom worked on the ship. And that cruiseline went bankrupt and liquidated everything before I could get out of the house, so I couldn’t even look that up.”

Kalluto crosses over from the kitchen and perches like a sweatshirt-wearing crow on the coffee table, their blue eyes carefully neutral under straight black bangs. “Alluka and Nanika would have helped. Or even Milluki, if you had explained the situation.”

“I was eighteen, okay? I just left home, and our parents were still being…shit, themselves, I guess.” He hadn’t even considered asking for help. Then again, he’d tried the moment he could, that first summer of undergrad where he didn’t have to come home and Illumi couldn’t spend half his time breathing down the back of Killua’s neck. He had a general idea of where they’d gone, maps of islands scurried away in the closet with the old photo and a bag full of seashells Gon had given him as a going-away present.

They’d been friends for a week, in the whirlwind way that only kids can be. The cruise ship was massive, and Killua’s parents were in meetings half the time and playing nice with the other rich people on board the other half. Killua had been bored witless, and Gon was everything he couldn’t have possibly imagined: encouraging Killua to go exploring, to stealing food from the kitchens, making him help clean up the decks, playing cards with the deckhands. Sneaking off the boat to visit an island without Killua’s parents while the ship was docked, scrambling over the burning hot sands and dashing through the jungle, diving into the waves fully clothed and competing to see who could find the biggest prettiest shells. Gon’d been Killua’s first friend, his first crush, his first…a lot of firsts.

Then the cruise had ended, and Killua forgot to give Gon his phone number. His address. Anything. They’d been so swept up in being friends, being best friends, it had seemed impossible that they would never see each other again.

Does Gon even remember? Why should he, when Killua hasn’t contacted him? Would they even be friends anymore?

Maybe he hadn’t searched hard enough. But part of Killua thinks he shouldn’t have tried at all.

The phone buzzes loudly, and Killua tries not to flinch.

“Hey, Killua. It’s okay.” Leorio leans forward, hands clasped over his too-long limbs and expression gentle. “If you want me to delete it, I will. Not sure I can help with the viral part of things, except maybe go through your messages and delete the gross ones, or at least find the weirdest ones for you to laugh at later.”

“Alluka and I have been doing this already,” Kalluto says, their posture a little too protective for Killua’s raw nerves at this point. “But perhaps you have some suggestions for what to do next, Dr. Paladiknight?”

Leorio smiles sympathetically. “Don’t read the comments? That said, most of your comments have been much more positive than anything I usually post. The masses seem to be genuinely rooting for you, kid.”

“I have only had to delete a dozen lewd messages for you this morning,” Kalluto adds, not mentioning the hundred or so that Alluka took care of yesterday.

Killua’s traitorous phone buzzes again, and that’s it. Time to bury himself in a pillow. Killua flops onto the couch, narrowly missing Leorio, and does his best to burrow into the cushions. “That’s just great,” he says into the fabric.

A comforting hand rubs against his hair, messing up the curls for a moment, and Killua refuses to admit that it’s nice, that he has friends like Leorio who even bother to care. “It could be worse. You could be dealing with this while still working a soul-sucking job making more money than most of us will see in our lifetimes, in exchange for giving up all of your morals.”

Killua groans loudly. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“You’re gonna need to do something, Killua! And hey, I might be able to set something up with my—”

“I already told you, no.”

“But it’s what you’re good at. And you wouldn’t be fucking people over to do it.”

“No.”

“Just listen for one—”

Killua lifts his head enough to glare as murderously as he can at Leorio. It must work at least a little, because the doctor shuts up.

Meanwhile, Kalluto is scrolling through Killua’s phone, poking at the screen occasionally. In the awkward silence, their sharp gasp is loud enough to shatter a window, and they hurriedly shove the phone in the pocket of their oversized sweatshirt.

Leorio raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

Kalluto squeezes their eyes shut for a moment, then carefully places the phone on the coffee table, screen pointed innocently at the ceiling. “You will want to look at this one, Brother.”

“This isn’t another erotic sandcastle is it?” he says.

Kalluto shakes their head, and Killua’s stomach lurches up his throat. Alluka has been the one excited about this whole thing. But Kalluto, as reserved as they are, is a massive romantic. The whole thing might be Alluka’s fault, but Killua knows it’s Kalluto who almost lets themselves believe it’ll work. Despite all of the false positives, the people who send messages that don’t sound right or photos that have the wrong smile.

Killua doesn’t want to hope. It can’t possibly be Gon. But his hands shake nonetheless as he unlocks his phone and finds a new message in his DMs.

It’s not from Gon.

Instead, someone with the icon of a small-billed white swan in a soft small-billed hat and a handle of @flymypretties has sent a photo of a brown-skinned man with spiky black hair absolutely covered in dirt and grime. He’s waving at the camera, a backpacking bag propped against his shoulder and the widest smile Killua has ever seen beaming straight through the screen and into his chest. Next to him and half out of frame, a tall tanned man with massive black eyebrows and a tank top showing off an impressive amount of muscle has his head in his hands. Killua feels a sharp stab of sympathy, somewhere buried beneath the racing of his heart.

look im sorry about this but this idiot can’t find his phone and we r kind of in the middle of nowhere so reception’s shit. he wants to know if you admit he found the biggest seashell on the beach, whatever that means.

For a long, long moment—seconds? minutes maybe?—Killua can do nothing but stare at the screen of his phone. Leorio and Kalluto both look at him with a mix of curiosity and worry, Kalluto starting to slowly reach for the phone.

In a completely childish protective moment, Killua grabs it against his chest, like the image will vanish if he doesn’t keep it close.

“Is it…?” Leorio asks.

Killua swallows heavily, trying to think around the roaring of the ocean in his ears. “I think so,” he says faintly.

Kalluto’s eyes widen, and they spin on their heels towards their room. “I’m calling Alluka!”

—————

“Has he responded?”

“No!”

“…what about now?”

Spinner throws her hands in the air so violently that her hat falls off. “For god’s sake, Gon, it’s been an hour, you don’t even have your phone, and you still need to go home.”

Gon huffs and pouts. They’re still in the parking lot over an hour after the rest of the trekking group has left, and all the exhaustion that had settled into Gon’s body from the tour has been turned into a jittery energy that keeps trying to leak out from under his skin. He wants to go home immediately and dig out his copy of the photo, rub out the old fingerprints he and Aunt Mito have left on it over the years. He wants to find his phone and message Killua directly. He wants to wait right here until Killua responds, no matter how long it takes.

He knows it’s childish, to be this selfish. Spinner has work to do, work that she already put on hold to help with the last day of the tour. Kite probably will want to know what’s happening, or at least why his lead guide and his chief guide organizer have been stuck in a parking lot. And Gon can practically feel Zushi’s obsessive scrolling through social media, frantically trying to navigate Gon’s feeds without actually having access.

Gon needs to find his phone.

“Spinner, what if—”

It’s not that Spinner’s a large woman. Out of the three people standing in the parking lot, Zushi’s far and away the strongest, even if he is about as threatening as a large, muscular teddy bear. And Gon has only packed on weight and muscle over his years of backpacking around the wilderness, no matter that he’s not super tall. But Spinner goes for longer, harder treks on her own than anyone but Kite, and she packs in her own climbing gear on top of that, so when she tosses Gon into the back of Zushi’s jeep, he flies.

“Zushi,” she says in a low exhausted snarl, and he jumps right off the hood of his car. Gon probably would have felt bad for him, if everything wasn’t spinning. “If you do not take your roommate home, I am not responsible for the consequences.”

“What if you hear back?” Gon groans around the aches in his side.

Spinner rolls her eyes, and Gon knows she’s just tired. “I’ll let you know.”

“But what if my phone’s gone? What will I do if someone stole it, or if I can’t—”

“I’ll call you go home already,” she says, and slams the door shut on his face.

For a long moment, the only sound is Spinner storming away, boots thudding heavily in the dirt until her car door slams.

The jeep shifts slightly as Zushi quietly lowers himself into the driver’s seat and puts the key into the ignition. Gon wants to tell him to follow Spinner, so she can yell out the window as soon as Killua gets back to her. But Zushi looks about ready to bolt. So Gon slumps back in the seat, the rumble of tires crunching through gravel making his already jittery nerves shake.

A small voice that sounds a lot like Kite tells Gon that it’s better to wait, that it will be easier to have a conversation and determine if this really is Killua after a rest and a shower.

Gon doesn’t want that, though. He wants…

It’s been a long time since he was on Whale Island. Longer still since he saw Killua. That doesn’t mean he stopped thinking about either of them, during the quiet moments out under the stars. They’re part of him, like his lungs are part of him—essential and irreplaceable, buried so far inside that removing them would change him irrevocably.

What is Killua like now? Is Gon just as important to him as he is to Gon? He has to be. Right?

They make it home without saying anything else. Gon floats in and out between bone-deep weariness and electric sparks of nervous joy, and Zushi flinches every time Gon jolts himself from one to the other.

“Hey, are you…I mean, maybe not okay, but.”

Gon lifts his chin up sharply at the sound of his roommate’s voice, and notices the familiar apartment complex in front of him. Oh, they’re home. “I’m good,” he says, and grins.

“Sure,” Zushi says like he doesn’t believe Gon.

A dubious silence stretches out between them as they gather the rest of the gear, dropping it in a heap on the sidewalk. “You were kids, though,” Zushi finally says.

Gon shrugs and slams the door shut hard enough to make the vehicle rattle. “I didn’t forget. So I don’t think Killua would, either.”

Zushi’s eyebrows wrinkle on each other, like they can’t decide whether to go up or down and settle on some combination of the two. “What if he did?”

“He didn’t,” Gon says, more sure of that than anything else in his life.

Zushi’s eyebrows dance again, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Between Gon’s camping gear and Zushi’s leftover practice pads, it takes longer than Gon’s excitement can take to get everything settled enough to look for his phone. Well, Gon would have liked to look for his phone, but Zushi makes a pointed look at the shower. There are only so many places the phone could be in the whole apartment, after all.

Gon’s just drying off when Zushi knocks on the door. “I found it, but it’s dead,” he says, voice muffled.

“Then charge it!” Gon shouts. After a moment, he adds, quieter and less snappishly, “Please?”

A faint laugh echoes through the apartment.

By the time Gon can make himself a very early dinner of whatever he could grab out of the cabinets without thinking, the phone is charged enough to turn on. Sure enough, there are a wide variety of messages, mostly from Kite’s groupchat asking about the viral post. A few are from former hikers, people who Gon liked enough to share contact info, offering to see if they can get in touch. There are even a few—okay, how did they get ahold of his old social media page? It’s practically defunct, since Gon’s never had a phone capable of more than the most basic apps. And those are…

It’s flattering in a way, but Gon’s not really into that. Or them.

Zushi catches sight of the grimace, and takes one look over Gon’s shoulder before turning beet red.

By the time he’s gone through and deleted the vast majority of what had been filling up his phone, there’s still no message from Spinner, and nothing at all from Killua. Gon sighs and lies his head down on the table with a heavy thunk.

The other chair scrapes heavily along the tiles as Zushi sits, a mug of coffee in his hands. “What will you do? When he messages you, I mean.”

When, not if, an unexpected certainty coming from Zushi. Gon has the best friends in the world. “Talk to him,” Gon says. “It’s only been fifteen years, right? We promised we’d be friends forever.”

“A lot changes in fifteen years,” Zushi says.

“Not that.”

“Then why didn’t you look for him?”

Gon frowns. It had taken a long, long time, but Aunt Mito managed to track down the cruise captain the last time they were in port, tracing through old charters until the right names came up. But when she’d called them up, she’d been met with stonewall after stonewall, pleasant-sounding voices insisting in no uncertain terms that she would never speak with a member of Killua’s family, let alone let her son speak to his friend. By the time Gon was old enough to look himself, he found nothing but a mansion full of people whose eyes matched Killua’s in everything except for his warmth, who refused to even acknowledge Gon’s presence except to throw him out.

That had been years ago. It’s not that Gon stopped looking. Not exactly.

“I did, but I—” Gon starts to say, but his phone buzzes violently against the table, and they both jump out of their chairs.

“Is it—?” Zushi asks, breath in his throat.

It’s a message from Spinner. you owe me big time, kid, she says, followed by a phone number.

Gon rips his phone off the cable, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It is,” he says, and dials Killua.

—————

bzz bzz—

bzz bzz—

bzz b—

“H-hello?”

“Killua! Hi!”

“…Gon? Is that—It’s really…?”

“Killua, it’s you, I thought I’d never—”

“I did find the biggest seashell, and you know it.”

A breath, sharp and astonished. “The blue and white one, with green lines.”

“I found it, and I gave it to you.”

“I still have it.”

A snort of amusement, slightly damp. “I know. You promised you’d keep it.”

“I did. And I promised—”

“That we’d be friends forever.”

A laugh, delighted and teary at the same time. “I knew you remembered.”

“I did promise you that I would.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

(AUgust prompts)

[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 Twenty 

Ron had side alonged tons of times with both his Dad, Mum, Bill, and Charlie. Sure the first time he got sick all over his fathers shoes, but by the second time he was just violently dizzy. Now it’s like nothing, uncomfortable in the moment, but not long lasting. So why did he feel so sick all of the sudden? 

A pit of dread was building in his stomach. He physically keeled over, clutching at his knees and heaving a little onto the grass, hoping to hack something up. 

A hand found his back and rubbed it for a moment, the touch startled him until he met Bill’s blue eyes. “What’s wrong Ronnie? You haven’t had that sort of reaction to apparition in years.” His oldest brother pointed out. 

Ron ignores his words, not able to find a viable excuse at the moment. Harry however, seems to catch on from his place on Bill’s left. 

“I don’t think it’s because of the apparition.” The chosen one frowned at his best friend's brother. 

Bill gulped, suddenly feeling a little guilty for not realizing sooner, but supplied a soft nod. 

“Ron if you don’t think you can do this I’d understand. No ones gonna hold it against you.” His brother whispered, bending down to meet his hunched over form. 

Soon, the ginger recovers as he shakes his head viciously and stands tall. “I have to do this. Not even just for myself but you know...” the words ‘for her’ are unspoken. 

“Okay, let’s all just take a minute.” Bill suggests noticing Harry’s pale face. 

They all stand for a little bit. Bill’s eyes seemingly searching for any threats, Harry toeing some leaves, and Ron closing his eyes to focus his breathing. 

“I’ve never been here before.” Harry comments quietly, causing Ron to open his blue eyes and meet his green ones. “I mean...” he starts. 

“Neither have I.” His friends soon clarifies, “it’s never been me who came out, always Dad, Bill, Lupin.” He lists, “feels wrong.” 

The dark haired boy nods slowly, “yeah it does.” He agrees, scratching his head awkwardly. 

Bill felt like an intruder on a private moment between the pair, but didn’t have anywhere else to go. Instead, he stood silently, not wanting to rush them. 

“I reckon we can’t stand out here forever.” Ron breaks tensely after another minute of staring at the brick house. 

“Come on.” Bill led them down the path first. 

When the trio reached the door, it was the oldest Weasley who had the courage to finally knock. 

After a small scuffle heard behind the door, Hugo Granger threw it open with. His face went from that of confusion to a beaming smile. 

It made Ron’s stomach clench. 

“Bill! What a pleasure! Oh Harry and Ron, nice to see you!” He says happily. 

Ron had met Mister Granger on a few occasions at Kings Cross and in Diagon Alley. He was always kind to Ron and his family, more than happy to entertain his father on all things Muggles.

“Is my little girl here? Jean and I told her to stay put.” He frowned a little. 

Ron really felt ill now. 

“We’re really sorry to disturb you,” Bill began cryptically, “may we come inside?” 

Hugo eyed him skeptically, it wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable with Bill in his home, but this visit was puzzling. 

“Of course.” He opened the door to them, “Jean!” He called out as they stepped in. 

“Who was it at the door?” The woman’s voice came as she walked into the foyer, smiling at the sight of the boys. “Oh! This is so unexpected. It’s lovely to see you all! Come in, come in.” Jean ushered them over to the sitting room. 

“Wait here while I get some tea, I have some made.” She tells, scurrying to the kitchen, causing Bill’s protest to die on his lips. 

Soon his older brother and Hermione’s father fell into small talk. Harry supplying a few nods here and there in acknowledgement. 

Ron however, was too busy surveying the house. 

Everything was clean and white. The dark wood floors seemed freshly polished and the pillows looked recently fluffed. On the mantle were photos of Hermione. Unmoving, but just as sentimental. 

Ones of her swaddled in a towel, her as a small baby, her in France with bushy brown hair, and many more. The one that caught his eye was her at King’s Cross from her first year, smiling widely as she sat on her new trunk. 

He had to look away. The memories of happier times becoming too painful as of late. The whole thought of her now miserable made it too much. 

Missus Granger soon returned with a tray of tea and biscuits, but no one made a move to grab anything. Not even Ron, which shocked Harry and Bill alike. 

He noticed now Hermione’s mother nervously wringing her hands together. “This is about Hermione isn’t it? I knew she’d take my mother’s death badly, but I didn’t think it would warrant a home visit. I’d assume she’d dive into her work. It’s not exactly a healthy alternative but she’s-“ the woman ranted. 

“She doesn’t know.” Ron interrupted huskily before he could help himself. 

“She doesn’t?” Hugo asked, shocked, “well we sent an owl. The white one, I think she’s yours Harry.” He pointed out. 

The chosen one nodded slowly, “we got the owl but Hermione she,” he cleared his throat, “she never saw your letter.” 

The couple eyed each other for a moment before Hugo spoke, “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” 

Bill glanced at his brother and his best friend, both were averting their eyes from the adults in front of them. 

“Hermione, she’s gone.” He says sadly, not even having a moment to elaborate before the Granger’s jumped in. 

“Oh Hugo! I knew this would happen! We told her not to come home.” She said painfully clutching her husband's hand. 

He grabbed it and gave it a squeeze before turning back to Bill, “do you know where she is? How long ago did she leave?” He asked quickly. 

Bill shook his head again, surprised to find tears stinging the backs of his eyes. Ron’s head soon found its place between his hands as Harry plucked his hoodie's zipper. 

“She didn’t leave,” he gulped, “she was taken.” The eldest Weasley said shakily. 

“Taken!” Jean exclaimed aghast. 

“I don’t understand.” Hugo said, voice quivering as silent tears began to stream his wife’s face. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have sent her off to that school. I knew it.” Her mother cried. 

This seemed to peeve Ron off, Harry too. 

“It’s not because of Hogwarts, it's because of me.” Harry informed quickly and sadly. 

“You?” Jean spat rather angrily. 

“Not Harry, me.” Ron corrected, sure of it. 

“You?” Her voice had leveled out to confusion rather than anger. 

As Ron nodded, Harry shook his head. 

“Well what is it? What’s happened?” Hugo asked anxiously, trying to keep his calm whilst his wife fell into his arms. 

Harry took a staggering breath, “my godfather, he,” he sighed sadly, “last year he was killed.” 

“Killed?” Jean squeaked nervously, worried for Hermione’s fate. 

“Yeah, you see-” The chosen one started. 

“Harry, third year, start there. Pettigrew.” Ron moaned the name painfully. He knew Hermione had stopped being honest with her parents around then. After being petrified. 

“Right...”

And so it began. The Granger’s barely had time to shed tears over Hermione, as they’d been too focused on the stories being told. Those of that night in the Shrieking Shack, of Barty Crouch Junior, Cedric Diggory, and Dolores Umbridge. Even the events of the Department of Mysteries (Missus Granger let out a terrible cry at learning Hermione had been cursed) and presently their Christmas holiday. 

“It was just over a week ago when it all happened.” Harry started nervously, palms running roughly over his denim clad legs. 

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” he began before Hugo interrupted. 

“The woman at the Ministry? The one who killed your godfather?” He asked voice so soft it made Harry’s heart break. Here these people were not knowing if their daughter was alright, yet felt for him after losing Sirius. 

Harry nodded, “yeah, her, well she arrived at the Burrow with Fenrir Greyback.” 

“The man who hurt you Bill.” Jean said to herself, mentally keeping tabs of all the players     

A little awkwardly, the oldest of the three nodded. 

“She came. Said some nasty things then went to leave. I-“ he began shamefully, “I followed her.”

“So did Hermione. So did I.” Ron was quick to defend. 

“You only followed because I ran in first. If I hadn’t-“ he began frustrated, hot angry tears forming in his eyes. 

“If there’s one thing I know about my daughter, it’s that she would do anything to protect you two boys. Please don’t blame yourself Harry.” Jean said with wet eyes, placing a soft hand on Harry’s clenched fist. 

“If I just-“ he started again. 

“If you had known this would happen to Hermione would you still have ran after her?” The woman asked, voice riddled with sadness. 

“No, of course not!” He cried out indignantly. 

“Exactly.” She soothed, retracting her hand to find her husband again, “continue.” Jean requested. 

Though painful, Ron knew this was his part to tell, “Bellatrix, she said she wanted to kill me.” He decided to leave out the part of Hermione in the witch's clutches, wanting to spare some pain. 

“Why?” Hugo gasped. 

Bill noticed Ron begin to tremble and he could at least fill this part in. “Us Weasley’s were dubbed as ‘blood-traitors’, purebloods who support Muggles and Muggle borns alike. We’re also not few and far between. To someone like Bellatrix Lestrange, if she kills one of us there’s still over half a dozen more.” 

Hesitantly, Hugo nodded in acknowledgment and understanding, but not agreement. 

“She didn’t want to kill Hermione.” Ron’s voice broke suddenly hoarse, “or Harry.” 

“But isn’t him, uh, You-Know-Who, isn’t he after you Harry?” Jean questioned. 

“Yeah, he is, it’s peculiar they didn’t try it with me.” 

“And Hermione? Why her?” 

Again, Ron and Harry squirmed uncomfortably, “your daughter is one of the brightest witches Hogwarts has ever seen. You-Know-Who, well, we reckon he needed her brilliant mind. That she may know something that could hurt him.” Bill advised regretfully. 

For now, questions from the Granger’s halted, it all was too much to take in. 

“So Hermione, she-she saved herself for me,” Ron choked, “she hid me to keep me safe and gave herself up so they wouldn’t kill me and they took her. And I couldn’t do anything. Not a thing.” Ron broke down becoming hysterical. 

Tears filled the room. Missus Granger’s sobs rivaled Ron’s as Mister Granger held her, silent tears of his own streaming his reddened cheeks. Harry had slumped over, breathing heavily, while Bill placed a soft hand on his shoulder. 

Ron stood suddenly, halting all the tears for a moment, “Loo. I need the loo.” He said, sounding almost panicked. 

“Ron, maybe you should just-“ Bill began to suggest. 

“Upstairs, second door on your right.” Hugo said with a groggy voice. 

The ginger nodded and took off, not noticing Jean throw her husband a funny look at the instructions. Instead, he just heard Bill’s soft voice floating through the room as he told the Granger’s of the measures the order had been taking. 

Ron climbed the steps two at time before being met by a long hallway with identical white doors. Spotting the second door to his right, he frantically pushed it open, ready to collapse atop the toilet lid. 

But instead he was met by a different sight. 

Blue walls. A large bookshelf tucked in the corner. Parchment stacked neatly atop a desk. Next to it was a Muggle chessboard. Pictures stuffed and tacked onto a board. And the smell. 

Roses. Lemon. Ink. 

The same thing he smelt in the Amortentia earlier in the year. 

It was all so Hermione. It was consuming his senses too much, too fast. And without even realizing what he was doing, he doubled onto her bed, silently crying. 

“I thought you might need this more than the loo.” A voice sounded from the door. 

Immediately Ron jumped to his feet, feeling like he'd done something wrong. 

“Relax Ron, I sent you here for a reason.” Mister Granger eased, moving to sit in the chair at Hermione’s desk, motioning for the boy to sit back down. 

“I’m so sorry Mister Granger, this is all my fault,” he started shaking his head. 

“I don’t believe that Ron.” He said strongly. 

The ginger shook his head fiercely, “you should. You don’t understand how much I’ve hurt her,” too many things come to mind. Lavender. The Yule Ball. Crookshanks. Scabbers. Trolls. “I could’ve done better.” He wiped at his eyes with the backs of his wrists. 

“You think I don’t blame myself for this too?” He asked a little harshly, “I get it,” he began softer, “you loved my daughter didn’t you?” He asks knowingly. 

“No.” Ron’s voice was so strong, it even startled him. “I love her.” He clarified, “Don’t talk about her like she’s gone. Like she’ll never know.” 

Hugo nodded slowly, but said nothing for a few minutes, letting Ron take in Hermione’s room with blurry eyes instead. 

“I want to understand Ron.” His voice broke the air, “I wish my daughter hadn’t lied to me. Jean and I suspected something but didn’t push it. But I need to know if there’s even something that can help. Please Ron.” He begged. 

Ron, Harry, and Bill had skimmed the surface of the chaos that has been their last six years at Hogwarts. And Ron knew more details on Hermione specifically then the other two, Mister Granger sensed as much. 

And Ron sensed the desperation in his eyes, the same look he’s been wearing for weeks. Even before Hermione was gone. When his biggest problem was chucking Lavender Brown cause he had missed her so much. 

Thoughtfully, his blue eyes found the untouched chess set. He pushed down the warmth in his chest at the thought of Hermione practicing just so she could match him. He didn’t have time to harp on it. 

“Mister Granger, have you ever played chess?” He asked, a brilliant idea forming in his head.

...

Hugo Granger pondered over the chess board carefully, studying the pieces as he placed them on the respective squares. 

“So my daughter is your queen?” He asked as Ron used tape to secure the parchment onto the white queen. 

Ron momentarily stopped what he was doing and opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air, “Er, what? I don’t know.” He fumbled. 

“The chess piece Ron, Hermione she’s the queen, is she not?” He asked, a little amused. 

“Oh,” he said, relieved , then suddenly realized he didn’t answer the question, “oh yeah, well I reckon it fits.” He says a little nervously. 

Ron was playing white and Mister Granger was black. 

You-Know-Who and Harry were the kings respectively. Hermione was the queen, while Bellatrix Lestrange was on her side. Ron made himself the knight, the protector, he felt a bit awkward about it, but he figured it would be worse if he had just written himself off. Then Hermione’s dad was sure to think he’s useless. In turn, Greyback was the knight, he debated over Malfoy, but settled on making him bishop. 

He also debated putting Draco’s name down as well, but settled for just the last name representing him and his father. Draco wasn’t guilty of anything but being a poncy pureblood prat. Well for now. 

Dumbledore was the other bishop, both ready to take over if their kings fell. The rook’s were just labeled ‘Death Eaters’ and ‘The Order’, being both were to represent the Kingdoms walls per say. 

As for the pawns it included those who either lost their lives or were simple puppets. Sirius, Cedric, Quirinius Quirrell, Peter Pettigrew, Mad Eye, even Ginny due to second year. 

Anyone else important would just have to be mentioned along the way. 

“And this woman,” Hugo began lifting up his black queen, “she’s the one who took Hermione?” 

Ron simply gulped and supplied a weak nod. Like the younger man, talks of Hermione’s captor seemed to evoke pure sadness from Hugo Granger. 

Suddenly, guilt bubbled within Ron yet again, “we don’t have to do this.” He vaguely gestured to the chess board. 

“I want to,” he insisted, “but if it’s too much for you...”

The ginger repressed the urge to groan. This man really should not be giving him the benefit of the doubt. Not after all he’s done to his daughter. Even before this. 

“Look there’s something you should know.” Ron’s eyes quickly averted her fathers. 

Hugo’s eyes pierced his, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“Before Hermione,” he choked a little, “before she was taken, her and I, we weren’t speaking.” He admitted in a whisper, ashamed. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“Well, I think,” he didn’t know how to phrase it, he didn’t want to, “I know I hurt her. My sister says I broke her heart.” He trailed quietly. 

And then for the first time since he arrived here, Mister Granger’s face was painted with red hot fury. Fists clenched so hard they turned white. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He told the man quickly. 

“Did my Hermione know that? That you’re sorry?” Hugo all but grunted. 

“No, I never got the chance to tell her.” It took almost everything out of Weasley not to cry. 

A few moments passed, but to Ron it felt like a lifetime. Eventually, Mister Granger seemed to lessen his rage and took a deep breath. 

“I don’t blame you Ron.” He began honestly, “I don’t blame you that those people took Hermione. I may not have known everything about my daughter, but I do know her and I know how much she cares about you.” Hermione’s father pauses, “and I know you know as much too, so I just want to ask you why?” 

And Ron knew what the ‘why?’ was for. Why would he hurt her knowing how much she cared. And for that, he doesn’t really have an answer, not a good one anyway. Nothing he can even justify to himself. 

The only thing that resonates is something he told Harry before all this, before Hermione was gone. 

“How can you love someone so much and hurt them so bad?” 

And he doesn’t know. Now more than ever. His mind is just constantly consumed with guilt, sadness, and anger. All directed at him or occasionally, Bellatrix and the rest of You-Know-Who’s followers. 

“I can’t answer that.” Ron tells him, “there’s no reason that could make it right. If I had known what would-“ a bile rose in his throat. 

“I know that Ron.” The man says softly, “I know that she knew too.” 

“Knows.” He blurted out before he could help it. 

Awkwardly, Hugo clears his throat, choosing not to acknowledge the outburst, “of course she knows.” He subtly corrects, “and I want to hear about what happened this year, but maybe we should start from the beginning?” He suggested pointing weakly to the board. 

Nodding slowly, Ron cleared his throat and thought for a moment before picking up the piece representing Harry. 

“I reckon a lot of this starts around Halloween first year. Do you know anything about Mountain Trolls...”

[eddie-spaghettis-bifocals]

Seed part 2

read part 1 here :)

For years now, Eddie has told Myra he wants a garden.

The first time he told her was a year into their marriage. She went along with it, probably assuming he had some semblance of botanical knowledge to suggest it at all, and then he killed everything he planted, and it had upset him in such a deeply personal way. She could never understand it. Not that he fucking understood it either, but rather than take the time to try and figure that out, he stubbornly tried it again, and again, and again, and again, and again.

Of course, at some point, Myra just begged him to stop. To stop doing this, to stop making himself so angry over something so trivial. “Why does it matter?” she’d ask. Ha! As if Eddie had any fucking clue, himself.

And he thought he never would. He thought it’d just be another one of those weird inexplicable things about him. He thought he’d spend the rest of his strange, spotty life miserably failing to garden every single summer and getting upset about it until he stumbled upon whatever the hell this midlife crisis symptom was trying to fucking tell him.

Ha.

You suppressed the weirdest childhood trauma known to man, it told him the second he came back to Derry. Then, when he saw all the losers: You used to have a real family that made you happy.

Your sickness isn’t real and you kind of always knew, he remembers shortly after Mr. Keene’s pharmacy basement nightmare. You’re gay actually, he accepts in the hours before going down into the sewers and very nearly dying.

You fell in love once a long time ago, he thought as he lie bleeding out in his best friend’s arms in the place he feared the most. He shut his eyes on accident and opened them back up in a hospital room, where he sees all the losers in various states of exhaustion. Richie is asleep, leaned halfway over onto his hospital bed, head on Eddie’s tubed up arm. And you never really fell out.

He was sure, at the time, that that was about the last of the suppressed Derry revelations about himself he could take, but that was then. This is now, at their final stop before meeting Mike at the airport and leaving Derry forever. Richie’s hand supports Eddie’s bandaged arm again as they stand in the Barrens, as if he thinks Eddie might lose his balance and topple right into the fucking creek—as if he doesn’t have a brand new cane to help prevent things of exactly that nature. He joins Eddie in staring up and up and endlessly up at what Eddie thinks may have been the lamest, most confusing grand gesture of his entire life:

A tree.

It definitely wasn’t here the last time he was, but he knows it innately, all the same. And judging by the look on Richie’s face, he knows it, too.

He wants to slap himself.

For years now, he’s told Myra he wants a fucking garden to his own bewilderment when all along, it’s been because of some stupid tree—and every embarrassingly intimate thing it accidentally represented—that he grew with comedian Richie fucking Tozier back when he was a nobody twenty-seven years ago. Back when they were both at their most honest and vulnerable. When Eddie was at his most unabashedly infatuated—uninhibited in a way he’s never been since, determined and emboldened, freshly thirteen and endlessly stupid—

“Well, whaddayaknow, huh?” Richie whistles. Eddie slides his nervous eyes over to see Richie still looking up like he’s afraid to stop. “Tall and shady. Just like you said. There’s some birds up top, I see. For Stan,” he says, and his lips tilt up at the sides.

There had been, it appears, some sort of magic involved in Eddie’s survival. Bill told him that by the time they got him to the hospital, the bleeding had stopped. Combine that with the fact that the scars on their palms are now completely gone, and the fact that Stan’s wife called Beverly back before Eddie woke up to tell her that Stan had pulled through somehow—it’s so strange we were sure he was gone—Eddie is inclined to think that, too.

And of course, they’re all overjoyed about it, but Eddie thinks Richie’s probably the happiest, since Stan was his best friend. Eddie likes to think that he was too, but there hasn’t been a good time over the last couple of days to ask. Or a good reason. Or a mature reason.

He knows that Richie, Bev, and Ben have made quiet plans to go to Georgia together after Richie finally leaves Derry to visit Stan in the hospital and stay for his recovery. Meet Patty. Obviously, they’re all invited, but they’re all acting like they don’t expect to see Eddie there for a while. At least not as immediately as Richie, Bev, and Ben will be there. He figures they all think he’s got his divorce to deal with and don’t realize that he’d rather do anything but.

“No squirrels though,” Richie hums. He looks at Eddie, eyes suddenly full of mischief as he pinches his lips to hide a smile. Just like he used to. “Just you, Rocky…”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Shut up, don’t fucking call me Rocky, that’s not even funny, are you kidding me?” He kind of hates the way he knows he’s doing exactly what Richie wants, just like back then. Richie watches him explode just like then, too, like there’s nothing else he’d rather be watching. Eddie’s heart thrums like a hummingbird’s. “Like, now I have to call you Bullwinkle, you fucking gargantuan moose-headed motherfucker and that’s not any more original than you still calling me Rocky twenty-seven years later.”

“What was it you said that day?” Richie grins. He’s not even hiding the way they both know he just likes to rile Eddie up. Eddie wishes he were really as annoyed with him as they both know he pretends to be. “Something about carving your name at the very top with my buckteeth?”

“Well what were you doing with them aside from taunting the bullies?” Eddie laughs out, surprised, but now he definitely remembers saying it. Worse, he remembers imagining later, after he and Richie had gone their separate ways, coming back here and carving Richie’s name instead. God.

“Ouch, and you called me a dickhead?”

Eddie snorts, can feel his smile matching Richie’s. “Yeah, you were being a dickhead.”

“You were being short.”

“Well—” Eddie stares and blinks and bolsters himself up for another round but finds himself laughing instead, isn’t all that surprised when he can’t make himself stop. He wants to say it’s a belated release of all the leftover adrenaline he’s probably still got pent up inside, but he’s getting tired of lying to himself. He can feel his smile stretching and stretching, and knows he hasn’t smiled like this in years, hasn’t laughed at something stupid like this in longer. The laughing kind of hurts, what with the violent ripping open, then rapid mending shut of his chest cavity, but he thinks for the first time in his life that this is a good pain.

Richie reaches to steady him, again as if he doesn’t have a cane for this very thing. Richie hasn’t even left yet, and Eddie misses him. Ridiculously, he thinks he’ll miss him for the rest of his whole life.

“You’re not funny,” Eddie deadpans once he stops laughing, once he's caught his breath, but he fails terribly, still grinning. He sees the way Richie is smiling back at him. He is just as afraid to look too much into it as he is to look away.

“You sound just like my critics,” Richie laughs. “You should come to my shows,” he offers like a second thought, but Eddie thinks his cheeks look a little pink, then that he’s losing his mind. “You could heckle me—that’s always good publicity. You’ve always been the best at roasting me. You know all the embarrassing stuff. You know exactly how much of a fucking joke my life is.”

Eddie scoffs. He would say he’s always been the worst at roasting Richie because he never means a word of it. “My life’s a joke,” he rolls his eyes. “On top of everything Derry did to us, I think this fucking tree kind of haunted me.” He says, as a joke, but he thinks there’s a part of himself that means it. Which is even more ridiculous. “I spent the better part of like fifteen years trying to garden for no apparent fucking reason because apparently this tree was that big a fucking deal to me. Do you remember wanting anything the way we wanted this tree to grow?”

Richie doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sighs, meets Eddie’s gaze, then drops a bombshell. “Eds, dude, you gotta know I, like, barely cared about this thing.”

“What?” Eddie reacts with so much shock, it must show on his face because Richie winces. “You… what?” Eddie says slowly, waiting for Richie to crack but be doesn’t. Only shakes his head, sucks in air through his teeth and keeps wincing.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m not mad, just—” He’s a little embarrassed. He could deal with this if they had both trauma bonded to this stupid fucking tree. He could chock that down to more Derry bullshit—he already had, but he couldn’t handle it if he were the crazy one and Richie had just been, what, humoring him? He shakes his head. “No, I am mad,” he decides, and Richie chortles and that only makes him madder. “What do you mean you didn’t care? That doesn’t make sense, you woke up at like five a.m. to come do this with me!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you cornered me in the clubhouse all alone and said you needed me.” Richie looks over at him, then seems to immediately regret it, drops his eyes onto the grass. “I mean, I barely even knew what you needed me for when you said it, but I thought if I didn’t do it, you might ask one of the others, so I woke up to come do this really fucking depressing thing with you—”

“Fuck you, man,” Eddie snaps, flustered. “It was supposed to be hopeful!”

“Well it was fucking depressing,” Richie tells him with an easy smile. He finally looks at Eddie as he does, but his expression is nervous. Pensive. “But that’s okay. Because it was you.” Again, Eddie’s heart thrums like a hummingbird. “And if you were gonna make anyone wake up at the ass crack of dawn to try your hand at desperately redefining the word ‘burial’ just to prove something to the universe, then I fucking wanted it to be with me.”

Eddie stares at him, speechless. Richie stares right back, shoulders kind of slumped, like he doesn’t know how to hold himself. There’s this feeling like a deep breath, a feeling of relief—finally it’s out there.

And Eddie supposes, now that he has to face it, that he knew. Maybe even back then he knew. Maybe he always knew, deep, deep down, that it wasn’t always just him. He was just afraid, and wasn’t that always the thing about him? He had been too afraid to hope then, and he almost wants to be now, but he looks at Richie and thinks they’ve wasted enough time.

“I always used to hope it was something like that,” Eddie admits. When Richie looks over at him, he stares back head-on, tells himself to be uninhibited, and determined, and emboldened, and endlessly stupid, just like he was all those years ago. Just like the last time they were here together. “That you did… stupid things just for me like I did stupid things just for you.”

Richie watches him like he’s afraid to hope, and frankly, Eddie kind of is, too. Irrationally, despite everything, he imagines Richie possibly having someone back in LA—possibly having a hundred someones on reserve, but something unhinged inside him thinks if even the jaws of fucking death couldn’t keep him from Richie, then good luck to Richie’s imaginary side piece in LA.

Richie laughs loosely, looking uncertain. “If you’re trying to tell me that this was one of those stupid things and not just some weirdly morose growth allegory, then—”

“Yeah, okay, growth allegory,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “whatever—whatever, but also you.” They’re close, Richie still hovering like something might happen, but Eddie doubts he planned for this. For Eddie to release his cane in favor of Richie’s hands. To tug him even closer like he knows what he’s doing. To reach up and pull his face toward him so he’ll stop looking wildly between Eddie’s hands and the cane on the ground he traded for them. “Like, mostly you.”

“Oh,” Richie blinks, eyes wide and owlish like they always looked when they were kids. He looks at Eddie, back and forth between his eyes like they’ll tell him the truth more than words could. He smiles and proceeds to nearly ruin it. “Cool, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this? I’m not good under pressure.”

Eddie scoffs, says, “Pressure,” and kisses him.

Richie kisses him back, startled and laughing a little, but he kisses back like it’s nature. Like it’s innate and organic and unchangeable. Something that Eddie’s certain has been trying to grow between them for decades.

They won’t forget it this time.

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

I never wanted you to die ( Axl x reader)

A/N: Fic requested by this anon. It will be sad as hell, pure angst no happy ending.  Thank you so much to @smokeandmirrorz​ for editing this, he’s the best!

Summary : Y/N who is engaged to Axl is killed, and he finds it out after coming back from touring.

TW: Death, funeral, mentions of murder, sad as shit.

Axl was looking out of the window of his limo, his fingers absently playing with his engagement ring. He smiled because he still couldn’t believe that you said yes, that he was going to be your husband and spend the rest of his life with you. You were constantly in his thoughts. The tour had been wonderful but also tiring, and he missed you so much. Hearing your voice during a phone call was not enough anymore, and now that he was coming back he couldn’t wait to hug you forever.

“I just wish this fucking car would go faster.” He thought impatiently. However, when he recognized the block on which you two lived, he also noticed something strange. A dozen police cars were all parked in the driveway and on the street. He felt anxiety rise up in his chest as he started wondering for what possible reason the police could be there for.

Fire? A burglar? Fight between the neighbours? The car stopped and Axl felt a sense of dread as he realized that the police were right in front of his house. His heart started beating so fast he felt like something horrible must have happened, because why the fuck were there so many cops where you and him lived? He exited from the vehicle and told his driver to go away. While he started walking towards the building, every step felt like a punch in his guts and his mind was losing its sanity little by little.

He tried to reassure himself, he kept repeating that you will show up eventually, probably scared and hopefully not hurt. Then he will hug you and tell you that everything is going to be alright and that he's here now. But before he could reach the front door, a cop crossed his way. “I’m sorry sir, you cannot go in. This is a crime scene.” Crime scene? Axl’s face fell at those words, feeling his heart clench. “I’m Axl Rose. I live here with my fiancé Y/N Y/L/N. What happened?” He asked, trying to sound firm and authoritarian but failing. “Sir, I’m sorry I have to tell you this but Y/N Y/L/N was found dead here in the early afternoon. It has been confirmed to be a murder case." Everything stopped for the singer. All his surroundings were fading out. He felt like he was in a bubble, unable to get back to the real world but drifting away in a world of pain.

You can’t be dead, his amazing fiancé can’t be gone like that, who would dare to hurt such a perfect person? He felt the tears running down before he could stop them, and without any warning he found himself falling on his knees. He wanted to scream so bad. Get angry and punch something, but he felt completely drained. It has to be a nightmare, he often got those so all of this isn’t real and he will wake up in sweat only to find you sleeping peacefully next to him. His thoughts were erratic, maybe this was his punishment. Maybe this was the price he had to pay for his sins.

“You’ll poison everyone who you claim to love, because you’re so impure!” His stepfather used to say to him, and it couldn’t have felt more true than now. “Sir? Sir?” Someone was calling him, but his mind felt so far away. Five months before Axl was nervously biting his nails, checking his pocket now and then to see if the ring was still there. He asked you to come at midnight. To be sure he was on time and to relax and prepare a bit, he decided to come up on the roof five minutes earlier.

The view was beautiful from up here and the stars were particularly shiny that night. The only thing off were the noises coming from the party downstairs. Maybe choosing to do this the same day as their goodbye party before going on tour was not a great idea.

But Axl didn’t care, because he knew that he wanted to ask you to marry him right before going on tour, so he could have that nice memory cheering him up during the stressful period of being on the road. His thought were interrupted by someone opening the rooftop’s door. And there you were, so beautiful and stunning. The redhead felt so lucky to be called your boyfriend. He was 100% sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. “Did you want to talk to me?” You asked a bit scared. What if he wanted to break up with you? Axl smiled sweetly and held your hands, looking into your eyes. “Y/N, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was a broken man but you managed to show me what being loved feels like, you dealt with all my bad sides and stuck with me through my darkest times. But you were also there for me at my happiest moments, ready to hug me or kiss me. Ready to make me feel like the luckiest man alive. I can’t imagine a life without you and I don’t want to so…” and he kneeled on the ground.

“Y/N Y/L/N would you like to marry me?” You couldn’t help but cry as you saw him holding a beautiful ring, with tears in his eyes too. You wanted to answer back so badly, but you were too emotional so you simply nodded and when you gained your voice back you answered. “Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times yes! I want to marry you Axl Rose. You have no idea how much. You better finish this tour early so I can call you my husband!”

He looked at you and he gently kissed you. Both of you feeling like you were flying, too happy to be bothered by anything. You were about to call him your husband and there was nothing better than that. “Oh God, I love you so much Y/N!” He said picking you up and spinning you around. Present “Sir, sir, can you hear me?” Axl snapped back to reality, only to be crushed by the pain again. Everything was real, it was not a nightmare. He was still outside of your house and you were still dead. Gone forever as you took his heart away with you. “Sir, we need you to come with us to the station for some questions.” The policeman said, looking him in the eye. “I was touring for five months, I have an alibi.” Axl said, angry and disgusted that they could ever think he would hurt you in any way. “We know, we just need to know more about who would have killed your fiancé. Don’t worry, you can call your lawyer when you want, Mr. Rose.” The singer was too tired to argue, so he decided to follow him.

As soon as he entered the station, he felt all the eyes on him, but again it seemed like nothing but the pain mattered anymore. They held him for an hour, asking him general questions such as who could want you dead, if you had any violent ex-boyfriends or anything else who could have helped them.

He answered back without any emotion, because it was still so hard to believe that you were gone forever. They promised him to find the killer and they asked him to not leave the city. Axl almost laughed because he felt like he could barely move without you, let alone traveling outside the country.

When he got outside, he sat on the sidewalk and grabbed his phone. His hands were shaking and he felt more and more tears coming but he needed to be strong. He can cry later.

Biting his lips, he waited, until after three rings the person answered. “Uhm… hello?” Duff’s voice said, and the singer felt so guilty to have woken him up. The bassist was probably still hungover but Axl knew that without hearing or seeing his friends he wouldn’t make it. You’re so weak Bill, you’re a pathetic excuse of a man! And now more than ever, those words felt right.

“D-Duff… Y/N… is gone, murdered. I-” Axl wanted to continue but he started to hyperventilate. “Fuck Axl, where are you? What’s going on? I’m going to pick you up, just tell where you are, okay?” The blonde said, sounding as distressed as Axl was.

“O-Outside the police station.” He replied, trying to not sob.

“Five minutes and I’m there, just stay calm Ax and don’t move!” Duff said firmly, but a hint of panic could be heard in his voice.

Axl sat still, biting his nails and trying as much as he could to distract himself but his mind kept shouting intrusive thought at him. Eventually he had lost track of time, because now Duff was standing in front of him, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“Let’s get in the car Ax. All the boys are waiting at Izzy’s house.” He gently said, pushing the redhead inside his vehicle.

He sat down and looked out of the window, hoping that what was outside would distract him and burst that bubble of pain he felt inside his heart. However, he knew that it was useless.

Three years ago

Axl was so nervous and he didn’t even know why. It wasn't like it was the first time he was going on a date. But with you it felt different, almost special. He was constantly checking himself in the mirror, trying to look badass but also sweet and mentally stable, he didn’t want to fuck things up with you. He felt like you were the one.

A knock on the door almost made him jump, but then he opened it and found you waiting for him. The singer was struck by your beauty and he might have zoned out for a few seconds.

Then he smiled and grabbed your hand, leading you to your destination.

Everything went good, you two clicked and he found himself so comfortable talking to you about almost anything. However, something was eating him alive and you noticed it.

“Hey Axl, what’s wrong?” You asked gently.

“I like you and a lot.. but I’m scared that I will screw things up or scare you because I’m me..” He said, biting his lips.

“I like you Axl. I even like the not so good parts and I know the real you. I’ll be there for you, step by step, okay? Don’t be scared to give us a chance!” He cupped your face and gently kissed you, feeling totally different from every other kiss. And it was at that moment that he knew you were meant to be.

Present

Axl snapped back to reality right before Duff parked in Izzy’s driveway. He felt so exhausted but at the same time he didn’t feel like he could sleep. Only his brain was tired. Numbed by the pain and the sadness.

He saw Slash and Steven waiting for him in the doorway, a sympathetic expression on both of their faces.

The curly haired man then grabbed his suitcase and headed towards the guest room, as footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Izzy.

The singer felt like he was about to break down again, he couldn’t hold it anymore but fuck to start crying right in front of his band was different from what he did earlier and he didn’t want to be seen like this. Izzy stared at him, with the same look that Jeff would use every time Billy showed up with bruises at his door.

It meant “You can let it out, it’s okay, nothing bad will happen” and he knew you would have said the same, but you were gone forever and the only person that was close enough to break down his walls was his best friend.

The tears just fell, he didn’t make any sound but he felt them slowly rolling down his cheeks and before he could realize it he was silently sobbing in Izzy’s arms.

At that moment reality hit more than ever and your loss was so heavy on his heart. It was like a wave of pain crushed his heart every minute with increasing violence.

At some point the others joined them, Slash and Steven patting his back while Duff and Izzy made him sit on the couch. He felt too numb and exhausted to care about being seen like that, you were the only thing occupying his mind. The good memories mixing with terrible images of you laying motionless. And he was angry because all of this was not fair. He loved you so much and you did nothing wrong.

“Y/N is gone forever…” He said through the sobs and slowly he felt tiredness taking over.

So he simply closed his eyes, imagining your warm smile.

---

They say time fixes all wounds, but that’s bullshit.

Axl stayed at Izzy’s house, with the boys coming over every day to help. He barely ate or slept. He was mostly just staring at the ceiling or the TV.

Occasionally he tried to write a song for you, but the pain and all the emotions didn’t help him as well as he thought. He felt bad for his band, who basically had to be his babysitters. It hurt to wake up every morning and not find you by his side.

All his energy was mostly focused on the telephone in his room, hoping that his lawyer or police would give him news on your murder. But it never rang.

The boys would try to distract him, make him eat, sleep or do anything else really. But they didn’t understand that was the only thing that didn’t make Axl feel like he had lost all control.

Two weeks after your murder the phone rang. He was eating a sandwich just so Duff wouldn’t die from stress because the poor man was like a worried mother most of the time.

When he heard it he started running towards the bedroom and quickly picked it up and five minutes later everything was over.

“What did they tell you?” Slash asked impatiently. Axl was so wrapped up in his pain that he forgot the band were your friends too. “They said it was a robbery. Someone thought that Y/N would be with me on tour so they wanted to steal all my things, but they found Y/N, got scared and shot them. They could have called 911 and maybe Y/N would still be here.” Axl said with a flat tone, a single tear streaming down his cheek, as all the boys hugged him sadly.

---

He started to write a song for you.

Nothing much had changed, he still broke down while hidden in the bathroom. He slept two hours a night and ate one meal a day, but writing was his last hope. He fooled himself into believing that if he could say his last goodbye to you, things would be better.

---

A week later your funeral took place at a local church. Axl offered to pay for it, and your parents thanked him for everything he had done for you. Everything was so sad and Axl was glad neither of them or him broke down and cried when he told them.

It was hard for all the boys. Sure Axl was your fiancé but you were close to the rest of the band as well so all of them were pretty down. Especially when they had to see your casket and your parents breaking down while all your relatives were sorry for their loss.

Axl thought that this day was even worse than the one on which you died, mainly because now everything would be over forever. Now he had to see you laying dead and forever gone. He was the last to go to your parents, both of them tried their best to give him a sympathetic smile and they were very moved when he mentioned the song he wrote for you.

He also prepared a speech for you, his proper last goodbye. The one that only you, him and the people close to you will hear. Trying not to cry was getting harder and harder as he was listening to all your friends and family talking about how amazing you were and before he knew it he felt Duff tugging his sleeve and then whisper: “It's your turn.”

Slowly, he walked towards the wooden pedestal with the microphone. Then he took a big breath and started speaking.

“Y/N was out of this world, the best person anyone could possibly ever ask for. Sure there was attitude and sassiness in my fiancé but also love, understanding, talent, happiness and kindness. My darling found a way to love someone as broken and damaged as me, by bringing me together piece by piece, showing me what love was and that I deserve it.” He stopped for a moment, because he felt the tears coming up again.

“Y/N didn’t deserve to die the way they did, and I’m sorry to not have kept my promise to protect my fiancé. I’ll miss Y/N so much, I can’t even imagine how my life will be, but at the same time I won’t forget and I’ll love you forever my angel. Nothing lasts forever but you will be in my heart, babe.” He finished and got back to his seat, feeling the tears silently running down.

“Hey man, why don’t you come outside with Steven and I? He needs to find a bathroom and some fresh air will help you. We will be back soon, promise.” Slash proposed and the singer decided to follow him, feeling the need to be outside.

They sat on the church’s stairs as Steven ran towards the bar across the street. Saul lit up a cigarette and then offered one to Axl who gladly accept it. He tried his best to distract himself but his mind was racing at high speed, almost hurting him.

“Hey Ax, it was not your fault, you didn’t know. And Y/N loved you so much. It was almost sickening how much you two talked about the other when they were not around!” Slash said a bit awkwardly but the redhead appreciated it very much.

Before he could reply, Steven joined them and out of nowhere he hugged his singer. Axl was far too sad to be angry at that, so he simply let the younger man hold him for a couple of seconds, then all three got back into the church as the priest was finishing the ceremony. It had started to rain.

As everyone was getting outside, Axl gave one last sad goodbye to your parents before getting in the car with the band. The boys decided on where to stop to eat, not without arguing on what was the best place to go. Eventually, Izzy decided for everybody, ‘cause you don’t mess with Stradlin. The redheaded singer put his head against the window as he closed his eyes.

Before he could stop himself, his mind drifted to a memory with you.

“You better finish this tour quickly, rockstar. I can’t wait to call you my husband!”

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll be back soon and I’ll put a real ring on your finger.”

“ I already have a real ring Axie, don’t spend too much on me! I just hate having you away from me.”

“Well, I’ll come back and you will find me at your door, with a big bouquet in my hands. Just don’t go anywhere babe.”

“And where should I go? I’ll wait for you until you’re back and I’ll kiss that pretty mouth of yours as soon as you get here!”

Axl smiled sadly and couldn’t help but think that you didn’t keep your promise. He looked in the distance wondering what will happen next, but especially how he will live a life without you.

1 year later

“This song is dedicated to a very important person, who unfortunately isn't here anymore. Life is unfair and it takes the best people away. This is my goodbye to Y/N.“ Axl said, managing to not cry, as he started to softly play the piano.

He looked up and he felt the same warmth he used to feel when he was with you. He smiled sadly, then he started singing.

After a year, you were still in his heart, even if it hurt.

[yikesharringrove]

Could we get something where billy gets “outed” about being with a male omega? since it’s Cali does it go okay or does it end up negatively affecting his job?? Your latest part got me wondering....

Part 41

Masterlist

There is BIG homophobia and various anti-LGBTQIA themes.

This jumps around the timeline

-

“I don’t think you should tell the people at work about me.”

Steve was sitting up in bed as Billy leaned against the doorway bathroom, brushing his teeth.

“Come again?” His mouth was all full of toothpaste.

Billy was going to be starting his internship tomorrow afternoon, was going to be heading right there after his morning class.

“I don’t think you should tell them all about me. I mean, you could tell them you have an omega and stuff. I mean, they’ll know from the bond mark, but I just. I don’t think you should actually tell them that I’m, a man.” Billy washed out his mouth, coming to join Steve in bed. He sat in front of them.

“Baby, I’m not ashamed of-”

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve spoke quickly. “You’re just gonna be around a whole bunch of alphas, and I don’t want them, giving you any shit, or treating you badly for any reason. Any reason you can’t control.”

“What do you want? I love everything about you, and you know I won’t bat an eye at telling them all about my husband.”

“I know, Bill, but that’s, I mean, that’s what I’m worried about. I mean, what if they fire you, just because of me. You’re so smart, and you work so hard, I don’t want this to hold you back.”

“Tell me what to so, Sweet Thing. This is your choice. I just don’t wanna hide the fact that I do have a family.”

“You don’t have to. Just keep it vague about me. Just call me your omega and don’t say my name or anything. I mean, talk about the girls all you want, just leave me out of it.”

“That just means I can’t bring you to company parties, or have your picture anywhere. If that’s what you want, I respect that, but Stevie, this can’t be my forever. I can’t spend my whole working life just, pretending you’re not you.”

“And I think this is a conversation we’ll need to revisit many times, but for right now, as you’re beginning this field as an intern, I think we need to do this. I want you to do this.” He reached up to tug on one of Billy’s curls. He had been growing it out again, but had Steve cut it a week ago when he heard back about the internship. “It doesn’t hurt my feelings that this is our reality. I’ve been a male omega my whole life. I know how it goes.”

Billy turned his head to kiss the palm of Steve’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m sorry you gotta live hidden like this. I’m so proud of our relationship.”

“Me too, Bill. But we can be proud together, with our girls and our family. But at work, just focus on you, and your career.”

-

It’s not that Billy hates his boss, it’s just that his boss is a douchebag alpha with a love of rigid gender roles and talking about tight omega pussy.

So really, Billy hates his boss.

He works at a desk right outside his big office, isn’t much more than a personal assistant, but it pays well enough that he and Steve could get a home, but after a year at the firm, his soul was fucking gone.

He was swaying in his chair, watching as the clock got closer and closer to the time he could leave, go home to his girls and his Steve for the weekend. They were going to have a beach day tomorrow.

He nearly sprinted out of the office at five, hauling ass to get back home.

Zara had turned a year old just last week, and she tottled up to him as he took off his coat, his suit jacket. He could hear Mina chattering away with Steve in the kitchen, could feel the tension melt outta his body as he smelled chicken pot pie, and the milky lavender smell of home.

-

“Mina Bea! Please hold your sister’s hand!” Steve was sitting on the towel, holding down the fort as Billy took the girls in the water. A year postpartum, and Steve finally felt comfortable enough to take off his shirt at the beach, made Billy’s eyes drift back over to him periodically.

They played in the water for a while, returning to Steve when Zara started getting grumpy to eat the picnic he had packed. Billy was wrapped around him, laughing as Mina relayed a story from her summer dance classes when Billy felt the hair on the back of his neck raise.

He whipped around, was expecting to see his father, the uneasy feeling in his gut making him feel like a teenager again.

“Bill? You okay?” And then Billy’s eyes locked on his boss, strolling across the boardwalk with his omega wife, their three preteen sons.

His heart sank.

-

Billy was fucking dreading Monday morning.

Steve was jittery nervous, had made a huge breakfast spread in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

Billy took the stairs to the sixth floor. He didn’t know if he was delaying the inevitable, delaying getting fucking fired.

“Good morning, Mr. Hargrove. You have a good weekend?” Billy didn’t know where the fuck he stood with his boss right now.

“It was very nice, thank you, Mr. Wolfram.”

“Enjoy the beach with your family?”

“Yessir. A perfect day for the beach.”

“Why did I picture you with a wife? I thought you said you had an omega.” Billy’s heart sank.

“I do, Mr. Wolfram. Steve is my omega. He’s my husband.”

“God, always wanted to meet an male omega. What’s he got?” Billy blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“What’s he got? A pussy?” Billy felt like cold water dripping down his spine.

“Why is that any of your business?” Wolfram rolled his eyes, chuckling at Billy.

“C’mon, Hargrove. Just between us guys. I always wondered about male omegas.”

“I still don’t see why it’s your business.”

“Just yes or no. I heard guy omegas have really good pussies. But I heard they have cocks too. I don’t know how you deal with that. Is it big?” Billy was regulating his breathing, going through the exercises the therapist he sees every Wednesday during his lunch hour had given him.

“Mr. Wolfram, I do not want to discuss this with you. This is my husband you’re speaking so disgustingly about.”

“Christ, Hargrove. Don’t be so uptight.”

“I find it incredibly disrespectful that you’re asking these questions.” His chest was heaving. His mind was racing Bill, he’s not worth it. Don’t hit him, don’t throw away your career like that. Billy doesn’t know when the voice of reason in his brain became Steve’s voice, just clutched to it.

“It’s just a little talk between alphas.”

“I don’t like to discuss private matters about my husband. Please stop asking me about his genitals.” He turned on his heel out of the office, stalking back to his own little desk.

He supposes he got off easy, didn’t get immediately fired, and was proud of himself for exercising so much self control.

The day passed as usual until he was returning to his desk from running a file down to the third floor.

He found a neat paper on his desk, a memo from the HR department, a memo informing him of the immediate termination of his position.

Don’t cause a scene, Bill. Just go home. We’ll figure it out. We always do.

He packed his desk quietly, avoiding eye contact with the other employees. There is no doubt in his mind news of his marital situation had spread through the firm.

He left with his head held high, waiting until he got in his car to punch at the steering wheel, to scream and rage and be fucking angry.

The house was empty when he arrived. He collapsed, face down into his bed, settling on Steve’s side, breathing him in.

“Bill? Why are you home? Is everything okay?” Steve was trailing a few delicate fingers down his spine. Billy didn’t know when he had fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry, Stevie.”

“Bill, Baby, you’re scaring me.” Billy rolled over, found Steve, biting his lip, his eyes big and shining.

“I lost my job.” Saying it out loud made Billy feel like shit, made him feel so fucking pathetic.

But Steve’s lip trembled, and his scent went haywire, and Billy moved to tug him onto the bed.

“Because of me? Because he saw us?”

“I really, I don’t know, Baby. I don’t know if that’s why, or, or because he kept, he kept asking me these questions, like kept asking if you have a pussy, and how he’d heard male omegas had a cock too, and if it was big, and I told him I was uncomfortable discussing that with him, and I don’t know if he let me go because of that, I really don’t.”

“But, either way, it’s because of me. Because of what I am.”

“No, Honey. It’s because he’s an asshole,  that wouldn’t know a boundary if it bit him in the ass.” He pushed Steve back to wipe at the big teals in his eyes. “C’mon, what do we always say?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“And we will! I can go back to the garage, and look for other firms. We’ll make it happen.” Steve took a deep breath.

“We’ll figure it out.” He pressed a wet kiss to Billy’s head, settling back on top of him.

[twiistedgalaxies]

Genesis: Chapter 6: Pill Capsules and Scrambled Eggs

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves.

Or, alternatively:

The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

           Tomura held the smooth, plastic pill organizer, running his finger along the compartment’s hinges. He opened the small, light purple lids with a satisfying click. The morning after he’d forgotten to take his medications on his first night at the orphanage, he had woken up to his brother launching the pill organizer at his head at top speed and with deadly precision. He’d decided not to ask where or how his brother was able to find one. Hisashi seemed to have decided not to tell him. It was a staple of their relationship, him not asking and his not telling. Something left over from their parents, Tomura guessed, all too used to Hisashi pulling cash from seemingly thin air whenever household funds ran thin. At the thought of his parents, Tomura felt the ever present, heavy weight of grief grow more unbearable. He swallowed, over a week later and he still couldn’t believe they were gone.

         He laid out his pill bottles methodically, and set about the task of loading each compartment with his afternoon doses.

         Sunday. He and his brother had spent last weekend sleeping in the damp holding cells of the police station until the department could figure out what to do with them. The thin sheet they’d each been given did little to fight off the biting cold, most of those nights were spent crying, or staring numbly at the ceiling’s spiderweb cracks. The officers were kind, but it was clear they wanted to be rid of him and his brother. Hisashi had been angry. It was a strange relief, seeing another so upset at his parents’ meeting their ends. The way the people around them reacted, it seemed like the ones who mattered most to them had never even existed. The world just carried on, uncaring.

         Monday. They’d arrived at the orphanage. That day was a blur, he just remembered not liking the Matron and feeling apprehensive about the place that was clearly falling apart. He’s still sad he missed out on Monopoly.

         Tuesday. His first day of class. He was given a nightmarishly thick classwork packet so he could catch up on classwork, nearly a week had passed and he was still whittling it down slowly between assigned chores. In class he had spitballs launched at him whenever the teacher had his back turned. At recess, no one seemed to want to play with him, giving him a sneer or a disgusted grimace whenever he approached. Instead of playing, he settled for sitting under a large oak tree, working on the drills and exercises in his homework packet. Tomura wasn’t surprised that his peers didn’t like him, no one wants a cripple to drag them down. It still stung though.

         Wednesday. Hisashi and Leo must have noticed his dismal mood (despite his constant dodging of their questions) and pulled him aside after dinner to start their still ongoing game of Monopoly. The game was lasting for a ridiculously long time, and was getting stowed with all it’s pieces on a shelf in between sessions, strategically hidden under old textbooks to hide them from the other kids. Despite being glued to some clunky old phone the entire game, Hisashi was still winning by a landslide. This frustrated Tomura to no end, something that his brother’s friends found amusing.

         Thursday. Tomura took up a small delivery job for the Matron in exchange for a little bit of spending money. Christmas was coming soon, and he was determined to buy his brother a gift, even if it was just something small.The task landed him in a shadier part of town, which was a particularly impressive feat in the eastern side of LA. He found himself in an old impound lot, filled to the brim with ancient rusting cars and dead shrubs. A squat shack sat in the center of the lot, looking abandoned and haunted, especially next to an imposing storage shed. When he knocked on the door, in the back of his mind he worried the peeling paint and chipping wood would imbed itself in his hand. Luckily, that didn’t happen. The door opened to reveal a scowling, gaunt looking man with sallow skin that looked crumpled like tissue paper. 

         The man spoke and Tomura couldn’t help but reel back at his terrible breath and rotting teeth, “You one ‘a Abra’s?” he asked.

         Tomura nodded and quickly handed over the package he’d been given for this job. The man looked at it for a second, then at Tomura with a dissecting gaze. He shifted uncomfortably under his stare before he heard a grunt and had the door slammed in his face. Tomura blinked with surprise before promptly booking it out of there.

         When he returned to the orphanage, the Matron gave him a few crumpled bills and a lecture for his trouble. Apparently she expected him to make nigh instantaneous deliveries. On foot. Going across town. He had to bite his tongue to keep from protesting and instead chose to vent to his older brother, who’s been looking increasingly exhausted, later that night.

         Friday. Apparently he wasn’t the only person disliked by his peers, because as he was attacking the homework packet with vigour during recess he noticed three other kids, visibly metahumans, playing with marbles on the sidewalk. One kid looked like a lizard, another had hands that looked like they were coated in a metal alloy, and the last one’s skin seemed to shift colors with his mood. They were in the middle of their game when the kids who’d been launching spitballs and jeers at him throughout the week kicked over their marbles and a fight began to break out. Tomura was on his feet racing towards the group before he had time to think. Desperately, he tried to defend them, only to wind up in the matron’s office, given trash and gum duty for the next several weeks, as well as a particularly nasty black eye. 

         Later that night, he was woken up by the sounds of the matron arguing loudly on the phone in the common room. Something about payments, shipments, and inspections. It seemed like boring adult stuff, but he didn’t miss the fear in her eyes or the glistening sheen of sweat on her makeup covered face. He was barely able to duck back into his room and return to bed in time before she walked in to make sure the kids were all asleep.

         Saturday. He and Hisashi started the day in the back of a filthy taxi, and then in the waiting room of a hospital as the staff got their mom’s room ready. Her withering, pale body hooked up to countless machines is an image that will be burned into his eyes forever, he thinks. The nurse told them that it was a miracle that she survived, but the damage sustained to her brain by the gunshot has rendered her effectively a vegetable. The visit was spent with Tomura desperately clutching her bony hand, talking between sobs, and his brother rubbing circles into his back. For being in a hospital the room was so, so loud. The sounds of the respirator and beeping of the heart monitor created an all-penetrating blanket of noise that had Tomura waking up from a dead-sleep later that night, breathless and in a cold sweat. 

         Tomura closed the pill organizer, once again enjoying that satisfying click. All of his pain medications were at their maximum dose. He’d been feeling sicker lately, and knew that he wouldn’t have long until his body grew used to the dosing and he’d be rendered incapacitated again. At this thought, he felt a burr of anxiety in his chest. He shoved it down, worrying wouldn’t help anything. 

         Double-checking his pill organizer one last time, Tomura made sure that all of his things were in order (and well hidden) before he made his way to the mess hall. For all he disliked about the orphanage, he could still appreciate the colorful slats of light the stained glass windows cast on their eating area. The mess hall was as rowdy and packed as usual today, and Tomura found himself wincing at the noise. He made his way to the seat his brother had carved out for himself among his peers.

         The teen looked dead on his feet, dark bags under his eyes and surrounded by mysteriously obtained cups of coffee. It was an odd sight to see his normally well-manicured brother so dishevelled, Tomura was instantly worried.

          “Hey ‘mura,” his brother greeted, though it came out as a half mumble.

         “Are you okay?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

         “Peachy,” Hisashi replied, brightening when he saw his friends enter the room.

         Tomura frowned at the obvious lie, “You’re clearly not fine, what’s wrong?”

         Hisashi shifted in his seat visibly uncomfortable, “We all process grief in different ways, I’d really prefer if you didn’t keep pushing, it’s been a long week.”

         Tomura nodded in understanding, feeling guilt twist at his stomach, “Sorry,” he grasped his brother’s hand across the table and looked him in the eyes, determined to reinforce his next words, “If you ever want to talk, I’m here, it doesn’t just have to be you who supports me, ya know?”

         His brother let out a low hum, and jerked his head towards a table across the room, “It looks like the mutant brats you foolishly put yourself in harm’s way for are over there, if you want to go hang out with them.”

         Tomura felt his eyes light up, despite his mild wince at the memory of the verbal reaming his brother gave him after that incident, and a smile stretched across his face. “Alright! I’ll catch you later, okay?” he finished that statement with a look that carried silent promise. We’ll continue this discussion later.

         Hisashi smiled sardonically, “Of course.”

                                                   -@~*^*~@-

         It had, in fact, been a long week. Hisashi smiled and bullshitted with the acquaintances he’d collected since landing in this barnacle of scum attached to an ever-sinking ship. He had spent the week, while confined to the orphanage, feeling for their mannerisms, expectations, and wants. It never hurt to cultivate future connections after all, even if they were rather irritating, and if their nightly Monopoly game served as a device to further these connections and goals as well as make his baby brother happy? All the better.

         He yawned, the caffeine he’d been given as a cashed-in favor could only do so much. There was an increasingly familiar buzz in his pocket. He carefully kept his facial expression from changing. As he spoke about baseball or something equally trivial, his thoughts turned to the thorn in his side.

         After making contact with Matt his first night at the orphanage, he was reached out to by an anonymous messenger. They asked him to perform a steep task. One that he wasn’t particularly willing to fulfill.

                                              Unknown Number

                                              Tuesday, 3:25am

[I need a favor.]

                                          ��                                   [How did you get this number?]

[We have a..]

[Mutual associate.]

                                                                                                                     [I see.]

                                               Tuesday, 1:03pm

[So about the favor]

                                                                                                                      [Yes?]

[There's a pest that we need you to eliminate.]

                                            [I assume that’s not all you intend for me to go off of.]

[Of course not.]

                                                [I’d like to meet with you face to face before doing                                                                                                       anything drastic.]

                                                          [Security concerns you see, I’m not going to

                                                               such efforts for someone I’ve never met.]

                                             Wednesday, 11:00am

[Fine.]

[We’ve decided to meet with you.]

[Come to the old warehouse off West Beverly]

[You better be as good as we’ve been told you are.]

                                     [Of course, only the best quality of service for my clients.]

[Be there at 1am sharp, Sunday morning.]

                                                                                                        [See you then.]

                                               Saturday, 9:00am

[Just confirming that you aren’t pussying out

on us.]

                                                                                                       [Of course not.]

                                                                     [How am I to know this is not a trap?]

[Don’t be an idiot, why would we ambush you if we 

want something from you?]

         Based on the use of “we” in their correspondences, it seems like he was dealing with an organization of some sort. That, or some petulant brats whose daddy hit them too much. Either way, he’d always met with his clients face to face to sort out the specifics of his deals. Just because he’d grown rusty doesn’t mean he’d grown stupid. Despite their placations, he knew that he could very easily be walking into a trap. Especially, since the mafia was involved. It’s because of this that he (unfortunately) had to exchange texts with Matt.

                                                         Pest

                                              Thursday, 2:00pm

                                                                   [I’m meeting with a client on Saturday.]

[Oh? So you’re finally taking on deals again?]

[A gif of Mushu from Mulan, clutching a sword

and talking to a cricket saying, “My little baby,

off to destroy people.”]

                                                                                                            [Very funny.]

                                                [I don’t know how trustworthy they are, so if I don’t

                                          send you a text confirming my safety by Sunday night,

                                      assume the worst. If anything bad happens I need you to

                                                                                         take care of my brother.]

[And I’m doing this because…?]

                                        [If they do prove to be trustworthy, I can give you an in.]

                              [I know you’re always looking for new sources of information.]

[Alright, alright. I’m a man of my word. I’ll lend

you a hand.]

                                                                                               [I’ll hold you to that.]                                                                                                                          Seen

         Dealing with Matt more than necessary was an.. undesirable outcome. However, Hisashi wasn’t so foolish as to enter a meeting, completely blind, with no back-up plan. At least this way he could ensure Tomura would be safe, even if something happened to himself. He was just about to dig into his eggs when the matron stepped up to the front of the room. As he continued to engage in pointless chatter, he watched her from the corner of his eye. This couldn’t be good.

         “Ahem-hem,” the insufferable woman began. Her pointless throat clearing was drowned out in the noise that flooded the mess hall. He watched her pull her angular features into an often adorned scowl. She looked at those under her care as if they’d just taken a leak in her cereal. 

         “Excuse me,” she tried, once again ignored. Looking frustrated, she grabbed a nearby glass and spoon from a table and clinked them together loudly, finally forcing the room into silence, “First of all, I will not tolerate such insolence from those I house, feed and clothe. If it takes me this long to get everyone’s attention again, the consequences will be severe, understood?”

         “Yes Matron Abra,” the children droned, sounding as if they were trying out for a funeral march ensemble.

         “Good. Secondly, it has come to my attention that some of you have been making late night excursions,” she continued. Hisashi worked to keep his face schooled into a calm facade. He’d been going out each night to perform small jobs for Matt. Each time he went out, he was always careful. There had to be someone else slipping out as well, but who? The mess hall erupted into murmurs as his peers asked similar (and several more) questions. Matron Abra waited a few beats for the chatter to die down, then said, “As a result, the staff and I will be patrolling the hallways and making increased checks to the sleeping quarters. Within the week, we will be hiring on a security detail to ensure that everyone is ah,” her face split into a viscous grin, “safe and sound in their beds.”

         Hisashi felt his brows knit together, how the hell could they afford a security detail when this place was falling apart? Then, it dawned on him as to how much of a hindrance these new measures would be, sneaking out was already a pain on it’s own, but with guards and frequent visits to the sleeping quarters? He’d have to start pulling out tricks he hasn’t used since he was in middle school. Well, fuck.

A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter, since I didn't want Tomura to drop off the face of the Earth narrative-wise while Hisashi wakes up each day and chooses violence. As per usual, feel free to leave a comment, feedback helps me improve my writing! I don't have much else to say in this week's A/N, school has made me really tired and I want to take a forty-year long nap.

Edit: I think the formatting gods are smacking me with a stick today. First I was having issues with AO3 then tumblr decided my last paragraph needed to be at the top of the post.

AO3

[be-the-creature-fan]

The River Part 2 (Read Part 1 first)

(Edit: the full story is in order on my account)

Chapter 5

Chris went to see what gravestone Martin was looking at. It was his.

"N-no, this can't be right, I couldn't have died when I was 4, I had an amazing childhood, most parts were good some were not, I went to school, I learned, I played, I made friends, Me, Martin, Susan and Christine we grew up together, we had many adventures together, I graduated High school and then College, Me and Martin traveled the world together before meeting Aviva, Koki and Jimmy, I got to grow up, I couldn't have died. How did this happen? WHY DID THIS HAPPEN?!"

Just then Chris saw his Mom grab Martin by the arm. However he couldn't hear or dicifer when was being said, so he followed them, just to see Martin being taken away in the mysterious vehicle. Chris could see the fear on his brother's face as he was being taken away. He also saw the pain in his Mother's eyes.

"Oh Mom please don't cry" Chris tried to say, but all that came out was silence.

After all the commotion was over, and the only person who remained was Linda, Chris followed her back to the place where his tombstone was at. Not one word was spoken as Linda stared at the ground where her son was layed all those years ago.

(Flashback August 1st 1973-Present Day)

It was the day of Chris's funeral. There was a storm that day and as Chris was being buried the rain was just pounding, hard. The funeral had to be speaed up because the storm was getting worse every minute. Life was never the same for the Kratt family, and Linda could see her family falling apart. Bill Kratt feeling like the absolute worst father after the accident became a workaholic. He would spend most every moment at the Harmonica factory rather then at home, sometimes Bill would leave for a uncertain amount of time before showing up unexpectedly looking buzzed but sober,he became too afraid to show love to his children in fear that if he lost another child, he would completely fall apart. Christine and Susan were not sure how to feel because they were both still really little at the time of the accident, but as time went on and they finally grasped the situation they became lost, confused and since they didn't know how to feel they tended to lash out and have angry outbursts because of not knowing how to feel or how to take out the emotions buried deep inside. Linda also had her fair share of problems, she had panic attacks and at times had became suicidal, but she knew that she couldn't do that to her family so she had to just put on a brave face and tried her best to provide for her family. However Martin took Chris's death the hardest. For the most part the Family had moved on with life, but not Martin,at first Linda thought it just took him longer to grieve but Martin just kept getting worse as time went on. Martin would have horrible nightmares almost every night and would scream like a banshee and even when he didn't have nightmares the only thing Martin could see in his dreams was Chris. He would have dreams of the both of them going on adventures looking for animals and grow up together and every time Martin would wake up, he would think that Chris was still alive and would lash out at anyone who told him otherwise. As he grew older Martin became the laughingstock and was labeled as the neighborhood looney. Linda tried to get him the help he needed, but to no avail. In his adult years he became very delusional that's when the doctors told Linda that he had to be sent to the esylem. Many times Martin was able to successfully escape before being caught just a few weeks later and many time he had to change doctors because he was so hard to work with. This was Martin's 15th escape and Dr. Corvado promised that it would be his last.

(Back to Present day)

Linda drove back home and Chris continued to follow her as she drove home. She was greeted to an empty household, as usual. She was at a point where she was just to tired to remember the moment where her family fell apart. Just the Bill came home from work.

"Hello Dear, how was work today?"

"Same as usual Hon, just plain awful"

"Bill, Do you think it's time for you to retire?"

"Nonsense, I have plenty of time to keep working before I think about retirement"

"But Bill, you are in your 90's, you are the oldest person at your job, and you feel absolutely miserable all the time at your work"

"But I'll feel worse if I don't work, that's all I'm good for, working is the only thing that makes me feels alive, the only thing that's keeping me sane, the only thing that doesn't remind me of that awful accide-"

Linda started to cry

"Oh Linda p-please don't cry I-I'm sorry please forget I mentioned it"

"Why did it have to end this way Bill?"

Chris stood there unable to do anything, he silently cried wishing that this was a bad dream and that he could wake up from this awful nightmare, but he could not.

Chapter 6

(With Martin and Jimmy)

A few days had gone by since they overheard Aviva mention the Time Machine to a coworker, and since then they have been working on a plan to get out so they can fix what had already been broken and bring Chris back.

"Ok so what you're saying is that next time the guards come to our cell, we try to over power them, steal their uniform and then try to find where Aviva hid the time machine?" Jimmy asked

"Yea, any questions, concerns?" Martin said

"Nope this seems like the perfect plan let's do it!"

So, Martin and Jimmy started the plan by yelling at each other to convince the guards that a fight might break out in their cell. And just like they planned, two guards rushed in the cell before being over powered and knocked unconscious. With that Martin and Jimmy were able to take the uniform and wear it despite it being a little too big. They soon made there way to Aviva's office where a Time Machine was hidden behind a thick black curtain.

"So are you ready to, Rewrite History?" Jimmy said trying to sound cool until he saw the concernlook on Martin's face. "Oh uh sorry Martin It sounded cooler in my head"

Suddenly the sound of fast approaching footsteps echoed in the hallway.

"STOP! GET OUT OF MY OFFICE" Aviva shouted

"Hurry Jimmy!" Martin screamed

Jimmy and Martin quickly scurried into the Time Machine.

"Now what?" Jimmy asked

Martin sighed, "We both gave to go back to where this mess all happened"

"You mean when Chris jumped into the Time Trampoline?"

"No, that took place in the timeline where Chris was alive, we have to go back to......to...." Martin began to tear up, and Aviva was getting closer to them.

"Martin! What Time?!"

"We have to go back to July 20th 1973"

Chapter 7

(Back with Chris)

As Chris was coming to the realization of not existing, he felt like he was getting pulled back. His surroundings seemed to move at the speed of light as he was moving in slow motion. "How did this happen to me? What went wrong?" Chris thought to himself. As he started to remember his life, He found himself where everything went wrong the moment that would change his life forever.

(July 20th 1973)

Martin and Jimmy barly made it to the space time continuum but they both found themselves on the same camp grounds where Martin would spend his summers as a child.

"Well here we are" Martin said rather depressed. He did not want to return to this memory and just the thought of having to go through it again made him hesitant to continue with his plan, "what if this doesn't change anything, what if it makes things worse?" Martin thought to himself

"Martin, dont worry things will get back to normal" Jimmy said.

"I sure hope so Jimmy, I sure hope so"

(Back with Chris)

After wandering around aimlessly, Chris found himself back at the River where he drowned all those years ago. Just then in the distance, Chris heard a cry for help.

"MARTIN! HELP ME! MOMMA! PAPA! SAVE ME!" Young Chris yelled.

Chris went to his younger self's aid, however he couldn't physically pull him out of the water the only thing he could do was tell him to hold on.

Martin and Jimmy could also hear young Chris's cries for help.

"Jimmy! Hurry up, I can't mess up again, we have to save him!"

Martin and Jimmy ran to where the river was, and at first they spotted nothing until not to far from them a tiny hand burst from the water. Without hesitation Martin grabbed Young Chris's hand and pulled him from the water onto shore. Chris who saw the whole thing unfold felt the rush of life brought back into him.

"Thanks Martin" Chris said as a flash of light came upon him.

Martin and Jimmy saw the same light and in a flash they found themselves back in the Tortuga with the rest of the crew with Zach nowhere to be seen "Koki!" Jimmy shouted as he ran towards her.

"Oh hey Jimmy what's up" Koki said confused not knowing what went down.

"Koki, for the longest time I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, how much you make my heart spark with joy everytime you're around." Jimmy said trying to sound romantic.

"Aww that's so sweet, but why are you telling me this?" Koki asked

"Well... its because I love you Koki"

"Oh Jimmy! I love you too!"

The two embraced eachother as the rest of the crew watched. Martin was happy for Jimmy as for Aviva and Chris, they were both confused.

"Ummm hey Chris, Martin? Are you ready to try out the Time Trampoline? Aviva asked.

"Wait the what?" Martin asked all shocked.

"The Time Trampoline Martin, Aviva just told us that it can go all the way back to the time of the Dinosaurs" Chris said confused not remembering anything that happened.

Martin looked at at his calendar and sure enough it was reset to the day where all of the craziness began.

"Wait before we go" Martin said while walking to where Zach was hiding "I have to take care of business" Martin then grabbed Zach by his invisibility cloak.

"W-what how did you find me?!" Zach said in shock.

"Pure Luck, NOW GET OUT OF HERE ZACH!" Martin said in a loud stern voice.

"I'll get you next time you Wild Rats"

That's Wild Kratts! The WK Crew said as Zach scampered off.

"Hey Chris I'm glad you're here" Martin said

"Me too Martin, Me too."

THE END

[weasleydream]

The life and grief of Percy and Y/N Weasley - Part 2

Hey guys! Hope you’re okay <3

Here’s the second part, hope you’ll enjoy it! 

Masterlist 

(gif not mine)

Part 1

Their first fight 

Things had gotten better during our second year at Hogwarts. The Slytherins had stopped their mockeries, probably because they had forgotten, or because they had found a new victim. Even the Gryffindor were less mean with their nicknames, and some of them even asked us to help them. Percy would usually refuse because “It’s a little bit easy, coming to your former victims for help, don’t you think?”. However, I was unable to refuse, and it happened more and more often. My twin told me more than once that I had to stop, but he perfectly knew I wouldn’t. 

At home things had gotten better too. Fred and George pulled a little less pranks on me, and they mocked me a little less too. But they didn’t let Percy alone, and that was bothering him. During the summer between our second and our third year, Percy and I argued seriously for the first time. 

He was tired of all the nicknames and our little brothers had just put frogs into his bed and, let’s just say that Perce hated frogs. This harmless prank had been a trigger and Percy had exploded. I had never seen him angry at me, never. But this day, the sweet and childish innocence between us broke. 

“I’m gonna kill them!” Perce was furious. 

“Calm down, Perce, it’s just frogs.” I went to his bed and grabbed two of them with my fingertips before putting them in a box.

“Just frogs? Just frogs, Y/N?” He was almost screaming. “I don’t know why they hate me that much, but I -”

“They don’t hate you.” I knew he hated being interrupt but I couldn’t let him say such stupid things. “I’ve had my share of pranks too, along with Ron, and that doesn’t mean they hate us.”

“Yeah? When was the last time they did something to you?”

I didn’t respond because it had been quite a long time. In fact, approximately since I fell in the stairs with Fred and lied to Mum.

“Exactly.” Even if I didn’t tell him, Percy knew what I was thinking. “You just had to be a reckless idiot for them to respect you but -”

“A reckless idiot?” My voice was high-pitched. “I have been a reckless idiot? Just because I have prevented my little brother from hurting himself?”

“Yes! You could have been hurt or killed during the fall! You are reckless, Y/N, and you are stupid.”

“How can you say that?”

“I can because it’s true!” His face was red, and I was pretty sure mine was too, but not for the same reason. Percy was angry and I was hurt. “You’re stupid because you do everything everyone asks you, at home or at school. You don’t have any will, all you can do is obey and I hate the fact that you act like a house elf.”

“I do that so I don’t give them any other reason to hate me!” I tried to defend myself. “When I do their homeworks they let me alone! Some of them are even kind with me now...”

“Do you really think they like you for who you are? They just like to use you! And even if it was true, why would you need them to be kind with you? You have me!”

“Do I really have you?”

My voice was now quiet, and I regretted my words immediately. Percy was obviously shocked and hurt, but he looked down on me and left the room. I was now alone, with my box full of frogs in my hands, fearing more than ever the fact that I could have lost my twin. 

I couldn’t find the courage to talk to Percy. In fact, the only thing I did for the rest of the day was reminding myself of what Percy had told me. They use me. They don’t really like me. I’m stupid. All these thoughts had found their place in my head and I couldn’t think of anything else. Percy was right. He was always right. I was stupid and now my twin hated me. The anger in his eyes when he had left made me cry and I stayed here, curled up in a little ball on the floor, until the door opened.

Mum sat on Percy’s bed behind me and gently took my shoulders. I threw my arms around her neck and sobbed, my head buried on her shoulder. Mum was stroking my hair, whispering me that it was gonna be okay. 

“You just have to talk to him, honey.” 

I had just told her what had happened, how Percy had screamed and how I was afraid he would hate me forever. However, when she gave me this advice, I scoffed. 

“Why would he listen to his stupid twin? He’s right and he knows it. We both know it.”

I didn’t let her the time to say anything else and left the room. I went into the kitchen, where everyone was already sitting around the table. I noticed that Fred and George had switched their places so that I didn’t have to be next to Percy. Their way to show me their support, I guessed. I smiled weakly at my worried looking little brothers and sat next to George. There was an undeniable tension between Percy and I, even if we weren’t next to each other, and everyone made their best to lighten the mood. Charlie told us his best Quidditch stories, Ginny babbled about the last tale Mum had read her, and Fred joked constantly. However, all these efforts didn’t prevent me from rushing upstairs when Percy deliberately ignored me when I asked him the bread. I slammed the door of our room, just to be sure he had understood how much he was irritating me, and threw myself in my bed. I fell asleep instantaneously. 

These scenes multiplicated during the following week. Percy and I were both too proud to apology. The only moments we stayed in the same room was when we went to sleep. Otherwise, I spent my days in the living-room or in the garden, always reading and ignoring the rest. Much to my own disappointment, I started to be mean towards Fred, as if he was responsible for my argument with Percy. He wasn’t, of course. Our parents wanted us to make up, and they thought they had to change our minds, maybe we could forget about this stupid fight. Dad had offered Percy to go to the Ministry with him, and Mum wanted me to cook with her. But the cooking couldn’t occupy me all day long, and, one week after our fight, on a bright sunday afternoon, Charlie proposed me to play Quidditch with him.

I hadn’t even looked at a broom since this disastrous flying class in my first year at Hogwarts. I was too afraid. But it was an excellent occasion to spend some time with one of my older brothers which was very rare these times with Bill working abroad for Gringotts and Charlie being… Charlie, the big brother who didn’t know how to show his affection to his siblings. 

We went to the place he used to play. He was trying to reassure me, telling me he would be with me all the time and that I didn’t have to worry. Finally, he took his broom and left the other one on the floor. 

“Here, take it, like this. I’m gonna stay behind you, okay?”

Charlie was, as he said, just behind me and he was holding me tightly. At first he took the lead, but when he felt that I was starting to feel more confident, he let me do everything. I was really happy and for the first time in a week, I didn’t think at all of Percy. After a few last figures, we landed. 

“That was awesome, thank you Charlie!”

“You’re welcome, sis. You know, you’re really good on a broom.”

He couldn’t pay me a better compliment. We headed back to the house while chatting. When we entered the kitchen, quite hungry after our flying session, we found Mum very nervous. 

“What’s happening, Mum?” Asked Charlie while throwing me an apple. 

“Percy is sick.”

She didn’t look at me while saying this. I squealed - a very pathetic sound, might I add - and tried to rush to our room. However, Mum grabbed my arm. 

“I don’t know what he has, Y/N. I don’t want you to go see him without my permission. And right now, you don’t have it.” She added when she saw I was on the verge of interrupting her. 

I sight and sat at the table, my head in my hands, a lump in my throat as I thought about Percy. Mum was really worried, I had almost never seen her like this. Usually, she would just prepare something and whoever was sick would quickly feel better. But this state of agitation was something I had only saw once: when Ron had thrown up everything he had in his stomach for three days and had ended at St-Mungo's. Tears were rolling down my cheek as I couldn’t help but think about the worst things that could happen. I hadn’t even had the occasion to apology. 

Charlie came back in the kitchen - I hadn’t even realized he was gone. He put an hand on my shoulder. 

“Percy has fever, and Mum can’t lower it.” He said. “She’s afraid whatever he has is contagious, that’s why she’s the only one who can see him. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s gonna be okay.”

I nodded, hoping it was true. But Charlie knew better than that. He looked at me suspiciously before adding:

“I think it would be better if you took Bill’s old bed tonight.”

So that I can watch over you was obviously what he wanted to add, but he didn’t say it. I had perfectly understood, though. But it wasn’t going to prevent me from seeing my twin. Unsurprisingly, Mum had the same idea and after the dinner, she followed me to Charlie’s room to make sure I wouldn’t disobey her. She wished me good night and I heard her downing the stairs. She probably went to see Percy. A few minutes later, Charlie arrived and tucked me into Bill’s bed. 

“I don’t want you to move from here, okay?” He warned me. “Percy is gonna be okay, Mum said she would watch over him. So you stay here!”

He ruffled my hair and went into his own bed. The thought of Mum next to Percy reassured me, but I still couldn’t sleep. I wanted so bad to see him… A few hours later, Charlie was snoring loudly and I was unable to close my eyes. I sneaked out of the room and downed the stairs that separated me from Percy. The door of our room was open. I passed my head through it and saw my brother laid in his bed, his forehead covered in sweat. His face was shining in the light of the candle that was burning next to him. On the floor, there was a basin with an old towel. I sat next to the bed, grabbed the towel and immersed it in the cold water before delicately putting it on Percy’s forehead. 

A soft moan escaped his mouth. I guessed he was feeling a bit better and kept humidifying his face. 

“I’m so sorry, Perce.” My voice was nothing more than a whisper. Even if he was awake, I doubted he could have heard me. “You were right, as usual. I’m sorry and I love you. Please, be okay…”

With my free hand, I pushed aside a wet strand of ginger hair. My hand rested on his curls as his face had relaxed. Maybe he could feel I was with him. Maybe he could feel how much I loved him and how much I was worried. 

Now that I had seen Percy by myself and I knew he was okay, I felt the urge to close my eyes. My exhaustion had taken over me and I fell asleep, one hand in Percy’s hair and the other still holding the towel. 

When I woke up the next morning, the basin and the towel weren’t there anymore, and a blanket was covering me. Obviously, Mum had come and seen I had disobeyed. I looked up to Percy to find him awakening with a weak smile. 

“How do you feel?” I murmured, not wanting to worsen the headache he probably had.

“Better now that you’re here.” He answered. “Y/N, I’m sorry for what I said.”

“You don’t have to be sorry Perce, you were right.” 

“No!” His voice was much louder and he cringed. “I was totally wrong! You’re not stupid, and I didn’t have -”

“Shut up.” I smiled. “You’re gonna feel worse if you continue. You don’t have to explain yourself, Perce. We’re both sorry, that’s enough. Friends?”

“Of course.” 

He closed his eyes and fell asleep again. I got up, kissed lightly his cheek and left the room. When I went to the kitchen for the breakfast, Mum took me in her arms murmuring she had never seen anything sweeter than me watching over Percy. She didn’t even scold me.

To be continued

Part 3

[borhap-au]

Argument. Rami Malek x reader.

From the very beginning this relationship hasn’t been a calm one. After Rami and Lucy split up, a big part of his fandom was angry about it, ready to blame anyone who came in their way. Unfortunately for you, you became their victim. You were around Rami for some time, but never thought he could actually get interested in you. You were... an assistant of an assistant, actually. Your job wasn’t a very important one, but at least you got a chance to meet some stars. And of course to be around Rami from time to time. 

You weren’t that vicious femme fatale that some people wanted to see in you. You didn’t come between Rami and Lucy, actually, when he started giving you more attention, they were already all done. Even despite the fact he was single, you still didn’t flirt back. Not because you weren’t interested, but simply because you were too shy. You thought he was joking and you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself. But he was being serious and he didn’t give up. Eventually, he got your number. There was a first date, second date... When you finally decided to be together, you still tried to keep your relationship private from the press. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. And after the papers, there came the internet. And all of his fans had an opinion about you.

You deleted all of your social media, but even that wasn’t enough. Every now and then some mean comments got to you and Rami. It didn’t make things easier in your relationship, on the contrary. There was always a hidden tension, ready to explode. You knew finally you’ll tell each other what you both thought about all this. It was a matter of time. 

It started with him not showing up to his birthday party you were planning for weeks, because he had to stay abroad to film. Then there was your anniversary he totally forgot about, because he was tired, again because of work. He just thought it was next week and slept throughout most of that day because he tried to recover from shooting intense scenes. Joe was aware of what was going on between you two and made sure Rami will remember about your birthday, but your boyfriend also promised you a trip to Greece you were very excited about. Unfortunately, a few days before it, he told you that another thing poped out and he just won’t be able to go. 

“If you want to, you can still go. There are two tickets. You can take a friend with you, that’s not a bad thing either, is it?” he smiled, trying to make the situation better. He was getting ready for work and didn’t have much time for arguments. 

“You know, Rami, the only difference is, I see my friends all the time. We spend most of our time together, but how would you know, since you’re never home? It’s you I wanted to go on vacation with. I haven’t seen you in ages. We live in the same flat and it feels like it’s a long-distance relationship. I never see you anymore. We don’t date. We don’t make love. Fuck, we don’t even talk!” he sighed quietly. 

“I know, and I’m not happy about it either. But it’s the job, it’s been killing me-”

“So if it kills you, why would you want to continue doing it?” you put your hands on your hips.

“Because someone has to pay the bills.”

“Oh, but we could pay the bills just fine if we had a smaller flat. You’re just used to this luxurious life. You like the splendor and all those people looking at you envying you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when I spent money on your shoes and your jewellery.”

“Oh, you- You asshole.” that was the moment you really had enough. You were mad at him for saying that. Maybe you weren’t a rich person, but you were a proud one. You never asked anyone for money, didn’t want to be anyone’s sugar baby. You paid for your clothes and other things, Rami just liked giving you presents, despite the fact you never asked for anything. Therefore it really pissed you off that he mentioned something like that.

“I thought we talked about it already. I thought you understood what dating an actor means.”

“Dating an actor, yes, not dating an asshole.”

“You still don’t get it. Not even a little bit. It was so much easier dating Lucy, actresses just understand-”

“You did not just say that. You did not-” your eyes immediately got filled with tears. He saw that and tried to hold your hand to calm you down, but you didn’t let him. You fastly walked past him and got out of the house. He wanted to run after you, but he got a call from work saying he has to be there asap, because being late is not tolerated. He sighed and promised himself that he will apologize after he comes back.

After work they usually went for a drink, just to relax a bit after work, but this time Rami declined his co-stars offer and went straight home, only stopping to buy you flowers on the way back. He got home and immediately wanted to go to you and apologize, when he heard you talking. 

“I know you would like to go to Greece with me, but I don’t think we should. It’s his money, and if he thinks I’m a parasite living off his money, then I shall prove him wrong.” a moment of silence. “Connected? Me and him? Apparently by money. No guy that loves a girl tells her things like this, keeps on forgetting or postponing their plans and is never present. I think it’s simple. I mean no, it’s hard. It’s difficult as fuck even to admit it, but it’s obvious what’s going on. There is nothing connecting us anymore apart of the flat and the status we have in the press. He doesn’t-” a little quiet sigh and you continued, unwilling to admit that even to yourself. “I think he doesn’t love me anymore.”

Rami was shocked. Sure, because of the success of Mr Robot and Bohemian Rhapsody his career escalated quickly, and he didn’t have nearly as much free time as before, but it didn’t mean his feelings toward you changed. He didn’t want to be with anyone but you and he was really happy. Actually, he admired you for sticking so long with someone who’s always gone. He loved you for how patient and understanding you were. He would never suspect what you showed him wasn’t the truth. That was the moment he understood he should’ve paid more attention to you and show you more love. The only thing was... It was probably too late.

“What do you mean how do I feel? I feel the same as I did. Of course I missed him terribly when he was gone, but I was always happy to have him back. I love him. There is no one else I imagine being with right now and I know there will be a long way recovering from a broken heart, but I think we both know what happens now.” a quick break and you started again. “It doesn’t matter what I really want. If it was about what I want, he would be here, with me, always. I don’t see any chances for this relationship anymore. I think this is it. When he comes back, I’ll just tell him I’m breaking up with-” you stopped when you heard a little sob coming from another room. Your heart stopped at the thought he heard your entire conversation. You never wanted him to hear it like this, over the phone with somebody else. “I- I gotta go. Talk to you later, ‘kay?” you hanged up. Slowly, so you can figure out what to say on the way, you stood up and went to the other room. 

Rami was sitting on the floor, his face hidden in his hands. He was crying. You spotted colorful roses laying on the floor near him. It was almost an aesthetic view, if you forgot about the part that your heart was breaking into million pieces.

You sat on the floor next to him and hugged him tightly. For two or more minutes he didn’t move at all. When he calmed down a little and fastly wiped his tears, he rose his eyes on you. You looked at him, also crying. He pressed his cheek to your chest, hugging you tightly, as if it was the one last time. You pet his head. 

“Is there really no chance for us?” he tried to say, but his voice cracked. 

“Perhaps... I was too quick with my judgement.” you whispered regretting every single word you said. 

“I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I really care for you. I never met anyone like you before, you are just so special to me. I love you. I do, I really do. You may not believe it, I wouldn’t be surprised. I acted like a dick towards you. Now I see it clearly. I wasn’t here for you when you needed me, actually, I wasn’t here at all. We were drifting apart from each other for a really long time now. Wish I could see it before. I would try to safe it. If given even a little chance, I would try my best for you. I promise.”

You looked at him crying. You didn’t think you’ll ever forgive yourself for breaking his heart. You wished you heard him coming. You wished you were in a different room, somewhere where he couldn’t hear you saying all that. Or if he just came back home before you called your friend. You couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. You knew you screwed up. Badly. And all you wanted to do was to take it all back. 

“Rami-” 

“If there was the slightest chance, even a little one, that you could, perhaps, ever give me a second chance... Please. Please, I promise you, I will do anything I can. I will even set the Hollywood sign on fire if that can bring us back together. Please. I’m begging you. I can’t do it without you. I don’t want to do it without you-” 

“Rami, baby, please. Shhh” you cupped his face in your hands and kissed his forehead. “Shhh. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying.”

“You mean it?” he looked at you wiping his tears. Then he wiped yours when you nodded your head.

“I am. I’m staying.” he hugged you tightly.

“I thought I lost you forever, babygirl.” 

“You almost did, Rami. You are such a good actor I believed you don’t care for me anymore. That you don’t need me, don’t need anyone. But now I see how you really feel. I’m sure again that you love me and it means the world to me. I just needed your attention and a little reassurance. I thought I’m losing you and now you see how bad that feels. But we will be stronger after this. Let’s just stop pretending everything’s alright when it clearly isn’t.”

“Let’s just start saying that. ‘I need attention.’ I’m sure it’s gonna make things much easier for us.”

“We will.” you nodded, smiling and petting his cheek.

“Go with me.” 

“Hmm?” you raised your brow.

“Go with me on the press tour around Europe. It’s a trip. We can have fun. I promise not to overwork myself so we can go sightseeing. Please?” you smiled and hugged him tightly.

“I’d love to.” he smiled to you and softly kissed your lips. You immediately kissed him back. 

[myfandomrambles]

Dhawan!Master Character Analysis

A look at Confused motivations, externalized anger, performance, self-destruction, boredom, and trauma

Confused Motivations:

Something I find interesting is that The Master’s motivations are not understood by himself. He professes it’s because he is angry that The Doctor is a key part of who he is and the “specialness” being The Timeless child gives her, but this is no way the whole story.

A more complete read of the motivations:

A biological concrete aspect has been added to the vacillations of feeling less than and better than The Doctor causing anger. 

A compulsive need to control The Doctor and make them the same by putting them on the same “level”

Anger at being even more of a tool and creation of the Time Lords and loss of autonomy & control thereof. 

Anger that they hurt The Doctor 

Boredom, apathy, impulse control deficits and general control issues informed by trauma. 

I doubt he is aware of all of these layers, and I believe The Doctor in the story and us as spectators will choose the one they believe is the “real” reason, but it was never just one. The Master flattens these motivations and explains it to The Doctor as almost all disdain for her, and blind rage, both actively in his emotions, and subconsciously to himself. 

We know The Master has been used by the Time Lords their whole life (longer if the child in the flashbacks is Baby!Master) and has their autonomy stripped to be used as a tool of the aristocracy. He is dealing with having the Time Lords who have taken his autonomy directly on a physical level via The Doctor’s DNA. Just like the drums and resurrection during The Time War, we have direct physical meddling by the high council. 

The Master has always felt that The Doctor and he are the same, that she is better than him, and that he is better than her in turn. This vacillating perception of her and their dynamic with each other is something we can see tracing through their relationship. This comes into play where they are used as foils and mirrors to each other. The Doctor Pointing this function of being the same while opposed to each other:

Twelve: “He's the only person that I've ever met who's even remotely like me.”

Bill: “So more than anything you want her to be good?

An interesting way we can see this change how they refer to each other sometimes using the present tense and past tense of the word friend. 

Ten: “A friend, At first” [Ten spends most of the time focused on them being ‘the last’ over a real relationship, but offer a hand]

Thirteen: “The Master was one of my oldest friends. We went very different ways.” [Thirteen is intensely emotional about the master, more so then we have seen her at almost any other point, but shows mostly anger and exhaustion]

Twelve: “Of course she's not dead. She's a friend of mine. I may have fiddled with your wiring a little bit.” [Both Missy and Twelve focus heavily on their friendship and fall heavily on their intimate history]

The Master also changes the description of their relationship 

Missy:“friendship older than your civilization, and infinitely more complex.”

Dhawan!Master: “I'm her best enemy.”

We see how the Fifth Doctor has an almost apathy to The Master, Seven takes the time to give him a proper burial, Ten and Twelve both seek out their respective Masters dreading the loss. The Master also does this being open about wanting attention, playing lower stakes dreams, being truly murderous, and abjectly cruel. The Master's self-perception shits as well; playing god on Gallifrey, making a personal army, putting her on a pedestal, dragging her down, and a suicidal streak. I think this helps illustrate the behaviour throughout the whole season. 

The Doctor and The Master compulsively try and get the other’s attention. The obsession is something pointed out by multiple other characters namely; The Brig, Jo Grant, and The Rani. We can see this in him taking the time to play at being O and in how even when he yells about wanting her dead he also always knows she will live why else would he leave a note for her that would show when she got to Gallifrey. The Master will get none of the sought after catharsis and compulsion to involve The Doctor if she actually died. In their Eiffel Tower confrontation;

Doctor: “When does all this stop for you? The games, the betrayals, the killing?”

Master: “Why would it stop? I mean, how else would I get your attention”

 His involvement this whole season is only about The Doctor, even the side operations of working with the baddie on earth, committing genocide and paling with the CyberMen are all about The Doctor and his need to exert control over both of their lives. 

The Master is angry that The Doctor was hurt. The Master has always had a kind of “Only I can hurt The Doctor” mentality. And considering he knows how it feels to be used and manipulated, I don’t think he wants The Doctor to suffer in that manner by the Time Lords. I don’t think it’s contradictory to want to hurt everyone else and also be angry The Doctor was hurt. Because of the obsessive thoughts around The Doctor, it would alter the thought patterns, The Master is not working based on logic. 

A real empathetic connection to The Doctor is present in the way someone who is in a toxic relationship will have. This goes both ways we can see this in the way they have all of these periods of differing extreme emotions, especially if you look at Simm->Missy->Dhawan. There is love there when they had a healthier relationship back when they were friends/crushes, but over time it’s been compromised through each hurting each other (whatever you pick/know of canon this still holds true) becoming toxic for most incarnations. I also don’t think this hot empathy for The Doctor would contradict not even having a cold empathy for the innocents slaughtered on Gallifrey (The at least 2.4 7 billion kids did nothing wrong) 

In general, I believe after going fishing in the matrix either on a whim or not the act of burning Gallifrey was likely an impulsive act. But after this, I think planning came into it, along with building the blocks for performance. He can formulate an elaborate game to play with The Doctor, The Matrix, live on earth, and The Cybermen to stave off boredom and attempt to integrate trauma and it will fulfil his rumination on The Doctor and the high council. I’ll talk more about trauma and boredom later. 

Externalized & Cyclical Anger:

When you are angry there are generally two ways people display these emotions: they put their pain into their own body and mind or put it on everyone else. Anger is healthy and The Master has every right to be angry at the high Gallifreyans who have treated him and his best friend like garbage from the very start. 

Dhawan!Master is a perfect example of someone taking their own pain and putting on everyone else. He is angry at so many things, some justified, some not but is dealing with this through externalization. He displays self-destructive anger but goes about the self-harm/suicidality by causing as much damage outwards as possible. A common Master trait, but very prevalent here, taking his own hurt and making others feel it, a stated goal more than once. 

He took this anger at a set number of people onto the entirety of the Gallifreyan people and stepped up the “flirting” and games he plays with The Doctor to one of the most painful versions they have. We can see The Master and The Doctor’s relationships take many different forms of the years but it has always been grounded in the need for the other's attention and anger from The Master at being left. With these added sources of anger they toss at each other it makes sense that we get different versions of tipping point moments when one of them “wins”. 

Another key here is that The Master shows a long history of serious anger rage that comes out in extreme ways. He suffers outbursts regularly and it’s something that worsens over time but even The Masters who were more in control we still see how anger is an undercurrent. And while The Doctor has a similar undercurrent The Master has this pattern of explosive outbursts that have slowly become more character-defining. 

Part of the cyclical anger is also the fear under there. The Master is afraid of so much, of not being enough, of being left behind, of not being who they thought they were, of dying (historically he has gone to crazy length to live), of continuing to live how he is, of being the worst of him, of being controlled and of the Time Lords. The Master runs from the Time Lords, using them yes, but never staying there. 

The Timeless Child revelation might have acted as a trigger for larger displays of anger, however, I think it’s key to The Master that this anger was there way before now. And it has caused mass suffering before now, this sympathetic grief and anger The Master shows in Timeless Children is compelling but it’s best understood a part of a cycle of outbursts of those emotions severely worsened by this latest re-traumatization. 

Performance:

The Master, like The Doctor, is a huge fan of performance art. This is something that has always been there with costumes, voice changes, dancing, and using this for both just plain fun and as a real tool. On a strictly meta-level, Sacha Dhawan was living for every moment and being able to meet and even surpass Whittaker for screen presence. It was his story almost anytime he was on screen. 

Narratively putting on a show was key, as O he is literally playing a part for The Doctor, and even keeping in contact as this persona. When in the past he is theatrical in his introduction in the science expo, in his character reveal in Ascension of the Cybermen his dialogue starts is:

Master: “Wow! Oh! Ah! That's a good entrance, right? Be afraid, Doctor. Because everything is about to change... forever.”

He literally asks if they liked his entrance, they liked how he presented himself. Then follows this up with this big pronouncement. Begging for the people on screen and us to pay attention to him. Which is generally one of the only moments in this episode that people really remember from the latter 1/2 of the episode. 

The entirety of the interactions with The Doctor on Gallifrey has a semi-planned performative aspect like he has a bit of script in his head and is using the environment as a stage, monologuing for the vast majority of the time. He critiques the performance as much as the substance of the Lone Cyberman’s plan. The body language and mannerisms are also very large and have a dancing aspect to it, or come across as severe and are trying to get a rise out of The Doctor or Cyberium. 

Another aspect to the performance is how he has these set pieces, of bringing her in, then trapping her, playing with the Death Particle and more than anything is the CyberMasters. He introduces them with a big speech, does the march with them and uses them to make a point more than to actually build an army. It’s also important to think he had to make the costumes and had this macabre point of putting the Time Lords into the Cyber Armour. 

The performance is more than anything just begging for attention. The Master loves to blow stuff up, watch the smoke of buildings, and fight with The Doctor, but it’s clear that they tried really hard to impact The Doctor more than anyone else. It’s clawing to be enough for The Doctor, prove himself, to win. Another way this performance is as a mask covering the fact The Master is falling apart. It's the duality of The Master always loved putting on the show but there is desperation undergirding it. We can see how The Master can start to jump in his speech mannerisms become more desperate and this facade of control drips to the anger and fear consuming him. 

By putting on a show, he is in control. He fears to be out of control, and the loss of identity both the Time War and the Timeless Children gave him. Controlling how he acts, how others view him and setting out a roadmap. Control through hurting others, hurting himself, through acting and of course just basic controlling others. 

Self-Destruction:

The Master is highly self-destructive here, something that is connected to a form of “anger in” and the aspects of control we talked about before. When the death particle fails to go off the first time he seems somewhat disappointed it didn’t just end right then:

Dhawan!Master: “Worried, were you? I thought if he was compressed, the Death Particle would activate and all this would be over. I would've been okay with that. I thought it was a nice little gamble. But no, here we are, all still alive.”

He is gambling with his life, I believe this to him would be a second-best ending to finishing the whole game and be face-to-face with The Doctor. More than anything though, it seems he wants to be able to end everything with The Doctor there as well. In this case that is the ultimate control he is seeking, to end the fear, grief, bitterness and pain. Suicidal thoughts don’t quite care if you complete your plan. 

The ultimate version of this plan puts The Doctor in the position of if she wants to save the world she must also join The Master in an act of extreme destruction. The interesting thing is it fails to put The Doctor on his level because instead of an act of anger, control and wanting harm this one is to prevent more death. If she had been able to do it it would have succeeded in making her die as a hero which is the opposite of the stated goal. The Doctor has taken cruel and pointlessly destructive steps before but this wouldn’t have been one of them. The Doctor has also been suicidal before this point, those moments would have been a lot closer to them being the same then this actions as well. 

Outside of the moral quandary, this is actually not that different from a murder-suicide in real life on a psychological level. Murder-suicide is also incidentally a highly male crime, which adds to an interesting pattern of invoking male violence. The Master wants to end his life but if this was the only goal he could have done it a million and one ways and send a note to The Doctor if he just wished her to know. But, like in real life part of it is wanting to control the other person too, he wants to control The Doctor and himself. The Master here has had his self-belief shattered, is depressed himself and feels The Doctor has become something less manageable with all this new information along with Thirteen being one of the least interested in The Master's games. This is interesting as I said before Dhawan!Master is the king of externalizing violence so even when his self-loathing drives him to suicidal urges the need to have The Doctor die with him and end anything that could possibly live on Gallifrey takes precedent. 

I think this is key because, for all the talk for pointing out that he is really suicidal, the murder-suicide aspect is really key to any honest reading of the situation. Because if the death particle plan had worked he would have just committed murder-suicide, even with The Doctor pulling the triggering. This act would have come after a psychological battering via The Matrix (which even if he has a real want for her to know it was done cruelly), threats to her friends, threats of mass violence, giving her the weapon it’s hard to say he wasn’t culpable in the death particle’s usage. Even the first plan would have killed her too. 

He is insistent that he broke her, she has nothing left, her world view is broken he finally brought her down. He needs The Doctor to be in the same headspace as he abjectly lost and searching for something worth living for. To feel understood and to be in control. Personally, I don’t think she has just accepted that none of this hurts and she is great because he gave her “gift of myself” and proved she “contain multitudes”, it feels more like her not wanting to give in to his control, to convince herself, but in the end, it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t win this time, and worse he dies without her. And interestingly she ends up taking the cowards route by making someone else fight her battle, this had nothing to do with ending the Cyber War it was ending a toxic relationship, a demolished culture and a Time War. 

Boredom:

Something I think I've not seen talked about a lot is that if The Master is displaying a show of chronic boredom this is something associated with a lot of people who are violent towards others and themselves. I think we can see this in his agitation, body language, speech patterns and just the sheer amount of what he accomplished during The Timeless Children. This is less visible in him being O as we don’t really know how much he was messing around or doing while in character, but the moment he stops the endless need to do something, anything shows up. 

If you think about it not everything he did is strictly necessary for the goals of destroying Gallifrey and then commit murder-suicide with The Doctor. But along with the need for a show, there is always something to do. And when each aspect of the plan finishes there is some joking and revealing but it also feels like “whoop that's done I'm bored again”. 

He’s compulsively doing something, anything, but as he mentions this isn't actually fully fixing anything. It’s something that really lends itself to both the outward and inward destruction. When nothing will ever calm the anger, nothing will help you regulate, no amount of stimulus can keep your attention, it leads to reckless and damaging behaviour. 

However, the game with The Doctor has to end, because this is the long game and now that we’re here she has to finish it too. The Doctor also has chronic boredom and he knows this, and that The Doctor has as little self-preservation as him. It tracks that when he makes the finale move he would assume The Doctor would be willing to act out too. 

Trauma:

I think it’s very clear this Master is dealing with trauma and we see a lot of signs, many of which I talked about but here is a list:

Agitation

Anger & rage

Chronic Boredom

Compromised empathy 

Compulsive behaviour

Depression

Destructive behaviours & suicidal actions

Dysregulated emotions

Enmeshment with The Doctor 

Identity issues 

Lashing out

Locus of control issues (Blaming everyone else while also needing to own it)

A need for control

Oscillating self-estimation

Preoccupation with those who traumatized them (with the timelords & The Doctor)

Reenacting trauma 

Ruminating thoughts

Sensory integration issues (stimming, could be linked to other conditions)

Trying to put on a show, (A trait associated with trauma linked PDS)

Thoughts of violence

Dysregulation of Emotions and Nervous System: The erratic emotions displayed by The Master overlaid with behaviours that some have identified as looking like stimming point to dysregulation. His feelings and affect jump around and are always at high levels. A point of interest, however, is that From Spyfall to Timeless Children the issue seems to worsen as the ability to put up a facade is gone. Now we know that it wasn’t really that long of a period where he was actively keeping it as we only saw him as O for a short time. But it tracks that after being exiled on earth and then into the Kassavian dimension his dysregulation would worsen. 

Preoccupation With Those who Traumatized Him: It’s so heavy in this story and even throughout the whole story The Master is locked on those who have hurt him, and the trauma thereof. The Master is used as a tool here the same way people manipulate The Doctor via their god and guilt complexes. The entire story is the Master having gone back to Gallifrey to try and enter the Matrix and then spend the whole time destroying Gallifrey and even then he can’t leave. New Who Masters specifically have their whole stories centred around the trauma Gallifrey did to them and their connection with The Doctor was changed by that event. And Dhawan!Master takes no action in this series that doesn’t involve this, even the plan with Kassavian is centred on getting the Doctor’s attention and setting up sending her to Galifrey. 

Replaying Trauma: This is a commonality between the master and The Doctor. They have been reliving the Time War, the same patterns of loss of their friends, being unable to turn off the training to be a soldier. The Doctor is often taking the same actions she did before, sometimes outside of her control, all of which were made during a trauma state or resulted in traumatic experiences. 

The Master replays the behaviours he learned during trauma as The Doctor does, but is a lot more likely to not only replay acts that they did that traumatized others, which The Doctor does too but also can replay what those who traumatized them did. 

The speeches we get from the master in Timeless Children is slightly off version of Rassilon's speech at The End of Time pt 1. 

Master: “Yes, it could! Behold your new CyberMasters, Doctor. All born from you, but led by me. How does that feel? Huh? Now, no time to lose. Don't move. Oh, that's right, you can't. Can you feel a new era dawning, Doctor? For Gallifrey.”

Cybermen: “For Gallifrey!”

Master: “For the Time Lords.”

Cybermen: “For the Time Lords!”

Master: “For the end of the universe itself!”

Cybermen: “For the end of the universe itself!”

Master: “Sweet dreams. This way, soldiers.”

Time Lords: “For Gallifrey!”

Rassilon: “For victory!”

Time Lords: “For victory!”

Rassilon: “For the end of time itself!”

Time Lords: “For the end of time itself!” 

The Master who destroyed Galifrey in the name of something Tecteun, and by extension the other founding fathers of Galifrey, is playing the same game Rassilon did and views himself as a god of Time Lords the same way Rasilon did. We also know The Master isn’t directly quoting them because he was not present when Rasilon made that speech, so this dialogue shows how he is in patterns of trauma. It also is important character and theme-wise because it plays on the ideas of autonomy and how the Master has essentially made himself the destruction and death god to Gaalifry in the way The Doctor was essential in its creation. While he is goading The Doctor to be both creator and destroyer. The Master and The Doctor are in fact these forces, even though I believe the Timeless Child is a victim of abuse and exploitation, but, it’s entirely true that The Doctor and The Master are playing at being gods. Something they have done on other planets before. 

This is also part of replaying trauma in the fact he has taken bodily autonomy and specifically regeneration from Time Lords to use as his own weapons. The CyberMasters are exactly what the worst version of Timeless Children are, complete manipulated weapons with no free will. 

Conclusion:

The story of Dhawan!Master is one that turned hard into both the idea of The Master being in pain themselves but also showing some of the worst cruelty the master has ever done in both their extreme assault of The Doctor and genocide.