It's time for Friday Fic Recs with the Ladies of HP Fest! This week we've got seven recs for you to dig into over the weekend!
Fic Recs for Friday the 27th of October, including part of the summary from the author. This week, all our recs came from our ask box. You can also submit recs on Discord. Come join us!
slipped (and said something sort of like your name) by @pebblysand. Leading lady: Ginny Weasley. M, 8.2k words. Summary: Harry, Ginny, the kids, and the way they deal with the impact that Tom has had on their lives.
come, my darling, homeward bound by @meowkittykenma/azumarheart. Leading lady: Molly Weasley. G, 3.5k words. Summary: Molly Weasley is the loving adult figure Harry needs but has never had. Also sprinkled in with a headcanon that Molly has a divination infused maternal instinct.
Orchids on the Black Lake by @maria-de-salinas. Leading lady: Minerva McGonagall. T, 3.2k words. Summary: One month after the death of her beloved Elphinstone, Minerva McGonagall must deal with her grief and decide whether she wants to continue teaching. Along the way, she finds an unexpected source of comfort.
Aunt Muriel by @pottermum. Leading ladies: Aunt Muriel Weasley and Lily Luna Potter. T, 3.4k words. Summary: Every family has that one annoying relative.
Watering Petunias by @englandwouldfall. Leading ladies: Petunia Evans Dursley and Aunt Muriel (yes, another Muriel story!). G, 4.6k words. Summary: She can feel the dirt crawling up her sleeves and invading her clean pristine life . . .she is being plucked, once more, from a sea of flowers. When was she ever really given a choice?
Another Love by @justfinishthis. Leading lady: Euphemia Potter. G, 2k words. Summary: Euphemia Potter hears that her son is in love and she has fears.
The 34th Amelia Bones Solstice Party by woldy. Leading ladies: Augusta Longbottom & a party of all the best girlies. G, 2.8k words. Summary: This year there is no invitation to Amelia Bones' Solstice party on Augusta's mantelpiece. There is no longer an Amelia to throw it. Yet she always said the party must go on, and Augusta's determined that it will.
We would love to receive recs in the ask box or in the rec channel on our Discord server. Almost any fic that is female-centric is welcome (exception: fics that feature explicit underage sexual content). We look forward to sharing more recs with you!
„Du musst mir nicht in der Küche helfen!“, sagte Alice sanft und legte eine Hand auf Scrimgeours Schulter. Er bewunderte, wie geduldig und ruhig sie mit ihm sprach, obwohl gerade so ein Chaos im Haus der Longbottoms herrschte. Frank schippte draußen Schnee, kam immer wieder rein, um irgendetwas aus dem Keller zu holen und seine Frau zu fragen, warum sie die Schränke ständig umräumte, sodass er nichts mehr wiederfinden konnte. Augusta saß im Wohnzimmer und meckerte über die Haushaltsführung ihrer Schwiegertochter, Agatha rannte immer wieder zu ihr, um ihr ein neues Spielzeug zu zeigen und neben all dem trug Alice ihr frisch geborenes Baby auf dem Arm. „Du hast gerade ein Kind zur Welt gebracht! Du kannst doch nicht alles gleichzeitig machen!“, antwortete Scrimgeour bestimmend, als würde er nicht verstehen, wie sie bei all diesen Reizen noch klar denken konnte. Er wandte seinen konzentrierten Blick jedoch keinen Moment von der Herdplatte ab. Wie lange mussten Kartoffeln eigentlich kochen? Fünf Minuten? Oder nur drei? Mit einem Seufzen wandte sich Alice ab und ging in den Nebenraum. Der Verschluss des Salzstreuers fiel ihm plötzlich aus der Hand und nun türmte eine gewaltiger weißer Haufen Salz in der Soße. Scrimgeour biss die Zähne zusammen und machte dabei einen leisen Zischlaut, der jedoch im lauten Treiben der Küche unterging. Die Soße war nun definitiv versalzen. Doch noch merkte es niemand. Niemand schaute über seine Schulter. Er hatte also Zeit umzurühren, bevor doch jemand einen Blick in den Topf wagte. Also rührte er den Haufen Salz einfach hinein. Konnte ja nicht so schlecht schmecken. Während er noch ein wenig umrührte, merkte er nicht, wie das Wasser der Kartoffeln sich gen Deckel neigte. Und schließlich überkochte. „Verdammter-“ „Hey, hier wird nicht geflucht. Sonst musst du eine Galleone in das Fluchglas stecken!“, lachte Frank, als er zur Tür hereinkam. „Und du hast bereits viel zu viel gespendet.“ Er hatte noch Schnee an seinen Schuhen und trug diesen in die sowieso schon viel zu überfüllte Küche. Der Herd war mittlerweile voller Wasser. Scrimgeour räusperte sich, als Frank den Herd abstellte und ihn mit einem Tuch versuchte, trocken zu wischen. „Hast du die Pastete aus dem Ofen genommen?“ Mist. Natürlich. Die Pastete. Die hatte er vergessen. Und Frank konnte sich die Frage, ob Scrimgeour an die Pastete gedacht hatte, selbst beantworten. Denn es roch bereits verbrannt. „Hey, was hältst du davon, wenn ich das hier übernehme. Und du gehst mal rüber zu meiner Mutter und unterhältst dich mit ihr. Sie hat schon nach dir gefragt.“ Frank zwinkerte ihm verschwörerisch zu. Scrimgeour räusperte sich. In der Küche stand er wohl eher im Weg, statt eine Hilfe zu sein.
„Rufus, da bist du ja! Ich habe meiner Schwiegertochter gerade erzählt, dass ich Millicent Bagnold zum Tee getroffen habe und Cornelius Fudge für den Posten als Juniominister für die Abteilung für magische Unfälle und Katastrophen vorgeschlagen habe!“, tönte Augusta Longbottoms Stimme laut durch den Raum. Scrimgeour ließ sich neben sie auf die Couch fallen und kontrollierte, ob sein Hemd irgendwelche Flecken vom Kochen aufwies, bevor er seine Krawatte richtete.
„Fudge ist ein Emporkömmling, der jedem nach der Nase redet, der im Organigramm über ihm steht. Vor einem Jahr, hat er noch darüber geschimpft, dass unverzeihliche Flüche nicht im Kampf gegen Todesser verwendet werden dürften – aus ethischen Gründen! Und kaum bringt Bagnold diesen Vorschlag im Zaubergamot ein, ist er der größte Verfechter der Sache!“
„Es kann nicht jeder so ein Sturkopf sein wie du, der seine Meinung nicht einmal dann ändert, wenn alle Welt etwas anderes sagt. Und soweit ich weiß, war es nicht Millicents Vorschlag, unverzeihliche Flüche einzusetzen, sondern deiner! Also freu dich doch, dass er auf deiner Seite steht!“
Augustas Stimme fuhr hoch und ihre Wangen wurden puterrot, während auf Scrimgeours Stirn bereits eine wütende Ader pochte. Wurde diese Frau jetzt etwa persönlich, weil er ihren Enkelkindern ein Einhorn-Schaukelpferd geschenkt hatte und sie vorhin noch betonen musste, wie viel Mühe sie sich ja mit ihrem eigenen Geschenk gemacht hatte?
„Ich habe lieber die ganze Welt gegen mich als hundert solche Dummschwätzer und Fähnchen im Wind wie Fudge! Natürlich war es mein Vorschlag, wie sonst sollen wir uns gegen die schwarzmagische Bedrohung wehren? Sie lauert hinter jeder Ecke und es gibt Zauberer, die eine neue Weltordnung anstreben, zum Preis vom Leben anderer. Doch ein Mensch wie Fudge wird jede Gefahr leugnen und herunterspielen, wenn ihm das seinen Arsch und seine Reputation rettet!“
„Tja, Cornelius hat eine bessere Reputation als du!“
„Weil er sich nicht für das Allgemeinwohl interessiert, Augusta! Wann kapierst du es endlich?“
Augusta trug wieder einmal einen ihrer großen Hüte, auf dem eine Feder angebracht war, die Scrimgeour ins Gesicht wischte, als die Dame entrüstet den Kopf schüttelte. Scrimgeour nieste.
„Ich war letzte Woche mit Cornelius Tee trinken und im Gegensatz zu dir ist er äußerst höflich und freundlich. Deswegen wird er auch schneller aufsteigen als du.“
„Herrgott, mit wem gehst du denn noch alles Tee trinken? Und was interessiert es dich überhaupt, ob ich in ein höheres Amt aufsteige.“, murrte Scrimgeour während er in ein Taschentuch schnäuzte.
„Weil deine Prinzipien und Regelkonformität, die du höher hältst als jeden Vorgesetzten über dir, dich noch ins Grab bringen werden, bevor du irgendetwas Bedeutendes zustande bringen wirst!“, regte sich Augusta auf und dabei fiel eine Strähne ihres damals noch braunen Haars aus ihrer Hochsteckfrisur.
„Wenn du willst, dass sich etwas Bedeutendes bewegt, dann musst du deine Stimme wohl jemand anderem geben, als Fudge.“, brüskierte sich Scrimgeour laut.
„Dann lass dich endlich für das Wahl des Zaubereiministers aufstellen!“, schrie sie ihm entgegen.
Stille stand im Raum. Nun sah Scrimgeour sie vollkommen unverwandt an. Ihr trotziges Gesicht und ihre zu Fäusten geballten Hände ließen vermuten, dass sie das tatsächlich ernst meinte. Das hatte er nicht erwartet. Er hatte noch niemals darüber nachgedacht, zu kandidieren. Sein Gedankengang wurde jedoch unterbrochen. Von Alice, die gerade zur Tür hereinkam. Auf ihrem Arm trug sie Agatha, die sich verschlaf ihre Augen rieb.
„Wenn ihr schon jedes Mal streiten müsst, wenn ihr hier seid – könntet ihr wenigstens leise streiten? Man hört euch bis ins Obergeschoss. Und ich habe Neville schlafen gelegt.“, bat Alice sanft. Scrimgeour räusperte sich leise. Augusta wirkte ebenfalls noch ziemlich aufgeplustert.
„Fein. Ich wollte sowieso mit euch den nächsten Dienstplan besprechen. Es gibt Hinweise darauf, dass eine Prophezei-“
„Rufus- es ist Weihnachten. Wir besprechen jetzt keinen Dienstplan.“, meinte Frank, der gerade den Braten auf dem Tisch platzierte und Teller verteilte. Er lächelte äußerst nachsichtig.
„Tja, du solltest wirklich noch mal genau darüber nachdenken, ob du nicht doch kandidierst. Als Zaubereiminister kannst du den ganzen Tag über Dienstpläne, den Zaubergamot, Askaban und die Jagd auf Todesser sprechen. Du musst dich nie wieder über private Dinge unterhalten, keine Freunde besuchen – nicht, dass dich außer Frank und Alice noch jemand leiden könnte. Das wäre doch genau dein Traum: keine lästigen Kinder und eine Familie - nicht, dass es irgendeine Frau länger mit dir aushalten würde! – kein Weihnachten, keine Geburtstage, du wärst nur mit deiner Arbeit beschäftigt und-“
Scrimgeour hörte den Rest von Augustas Schimpfereien gar nicht. Denn ganz unbemerkt hatte Alice ihre Tochter auf seinen Schoß gesetzt, während die beiden gestritten hatten. Agatha sah Scrimgeour mit ihren hübschen grünen Augen ein bisschen müde und ein bisschen neugierig an. Ihre Zöpfchen waren etwas verwuschelt und sie hatte Schlafbäckchen. Trotzdem ließ sie es sich nicht nehmen mit ihrem kleinen Finger auf Scrimgeours Krawattte zu tippen und leise „Stern“ zu brabbeln, weil darauf ein paar kleine Sterne gestickt waren. Und auf einmal wurde alles um ihn ganz ruhig und still. Erst jetzt fiel ihm auf, dass im Hintergrund ein Schallplattenspieler lief, der Weihnachtslieder vor sich hin spielte. Es roch nach Nelken und Bratensoße. Alice hängte eine Weihnachtsstern auf, den die Kinder heute schon drei Mal von dem Baum gerissen hatten, dem halbseitig einige Nadeln fehlten. Und sie lächelte. Sie sah glücklich aus in all dem Chaos. Genauso wie Frank, der sich neben Scrimgeour setzte und sich etwas zu ihm lehnte.
„Wir wollten dich fragen, ob du ihr Patenonkel werden möchtest.“ Seine Stimme wurde etwas leiser. „Sie braucht jemanden, der sie beschützen kann. Du weißt schon - nur für den Fall, dass uns etwas passiert.“
Scrimgeour blickte Agatha an. Das Mädchen murmelte noch einmal „Stern“, dann lehnte sie sich an ihn und schlief zufrieden ein. Er legte seinen Arm um sie. Für den Bruchteil einer Sekunde lächelte er, als er erkannte, wie ähnlich sie ihren Eltern doch sah. Wie friedlich sich gerade alles fügte. „Ja.“, murmelte er. „Möchte ich.“
Der Zaubereiminister zog sich von seinem Denkarium zurück. Das silber-blaue Licht warf tiefe Falten in sein älter gewordenes Gesicht. Es waren mehr Narben hinzugekommen. Mehr Härte zeichnete seine Züge. Und mehr Bitterkeit.
Es war nur eine Erinnerung.
Doch er wusste noch genau, wie er in seiner damaligen Naivität geglaubt hatte, dass die folgenden Jahre so weiterlaufen würden. So wie dieses eine Weihnachten.
Er hatte nicht ahnen können, dass es das letzte Mal war, dass er Frank und Alice so glücklich sah. Das letzte Weihnachten, das seine besten Freunde mit ihren Kindern verbringen konnten.
Das letzte Mal, bevor er Agatha und Neville vor dem Tod bewahrt hatte.
A few thoughts/headcanons that have been bopping about the inside of my skull like one of those old screensavers. Mostly about Eileen Prince, percolated after seeing this piece by @sneverussape and tracking down this post by @sneverussape and @owlzerness
(1)
Eileen was not the name her parents gave her
Eileen was the name used by her great-great-great aunt (or perhaps the terrible old lady was a cousin removed several times and ranked somewhere far from first, but the old woman insisted on “Aunt” as an honorific and the girl who wasn’t supposed to be Ileana anymore complied)
Her parents sent her away to England when she was seven.
They’d said there was a bad wizard, practically a monster, and that she would be safe in England. They couldn’t go with her, there was some complicated problem with past alliances and allegiances and pacts and family ties and protecting the dragons from Grindelwald and it would be dishonorable for them to flee to safety. But they could send her away. No one could blame them for sending her away.
They sent her away to England and told her there would be no bad wizards, no monsters with the face of a man, there. Hogwarts, they said, could provide a mostly acceptable education.
Aunt Agatha was not “a bad wizard” but she certainly wasn’t good. The old woman was a veritable hermit, shut-up in her sprawling, dusty, dilapidated house; bitterly parting with trinkets from her hoard to afford her daily bread and ruminating over her every misfortune.
Agatha Prince had no money, at least, no money she would deign to spend raising some child of distant relatives. She blamed her long-dead squib brother’s existence for her failure to secure a wealthy spouse and the life of leisure she deserved. Aunt Agatha often raged that neither the main branch of the Prince family nor the French line had the decency to provide for a poor spinster relation.
It offended Agatha’s every sensibility that the Prince family fortune should remain with little Gloriana, the last of the main branch in England, and then go to her daughter Augusta who wasn’t even born a Prince. Surely Agatha, as the eldest living Prince, should have control of the vault. Surely Agatha, as the eldest living Prince, should not be left destitute. Why, she’d sold the House Elf long ago, tearing out the very soul of her childhood home in the process. She needed her uncle’s gold if she was ever to leave the husk she’d made of her house.
Beneath Agatha Prince’s thumb was a not a very nice place for a child to grow up.
Eileen-no-longer-Ileana Prince personally would’ve preferred the distant terror of (and eventually death by-) Grindelwald and his forces over her life in the stranglehold of Aunt Agatha’s petty tyranny.
(2)
Ileana learned the English she needed to become Eileen by eavesdropping on muggle radio broadcasts.
Mimicking the radio voice was easier than trying to talk to one of the muggles in the village that still anchored Agatha’s home. Ileana, like her mother, had been born with her mind too open and external thoughts were always trying to get in through her eyes.
Aunt Agatha wasn’t interested in conversation. She told Eileen what chores to do (the chores a House Elf would’ve completed in a twinkle, had Agatha not been so foolish as to sell off her estate’s genius loci manifested) or she criticized Ileana for not being a sufficiently obedient Eileen.
Aunt Agatha demanded eye contact when it was time for a berating and Ileana-Eileen often went to bed with her head achingly full of Agatha Prince’s cruelest thoughts.
The radio was nice.
The radio didn’t have eyes.
(3)
Eileen Prince was sorted into Slytherin much to Aunt Agatha’s disgust.
Agatha assigned a malign influence to the Carpathians to explain why Eileen, unlike every properly English Prince, had fallen into Slytherin instead of rising up to one of the two tower Houses. It was then that Agatha realized how wise and right and justified she had been to refrain from offering any form of affection to the girl— for it was quite true that a serpent’s tooth was not as sharp as a thankless child.
(Long ago, Phineas Nigellus Black, by then engaged to Ursula Flint, had coldly rebuffed Agatha Prince’s attempts to secure his invitation to dance. She had nursed that grudge with more tenderness than she would ever show to a child in her care).
(4)
Gloriana Prince’s daughter Augusta, two years older than Eileen, was deeply suspicious of the girl claiming to be some third-cousin or something from the eastern branch of the Prince family. Augusta had met her Prince cousins from the French line, and Eileen didn’t look a thing like them (Augusta did not acknowledge just how much she looked like Eileen).
Eileen, very sensitive as she was, picked up on Augusta’s opinions before they were voiced and made a point of avoiding her cousin.
It was easy enough, the Gryffindor tower was far from the Slytherin dungeon and there were only a few Inter-House clubs that might’ve encouraged students to mingle.
(5)
Abraxas Malfoy, prefect and co-captain of the Hogwarts Inter-House Gobstones Club with his Gryffindor friend Septimius, tended to come off as a bit of a pompous twit. But even if he was a pompous twit, he was a pompous twit that made a point of looking out for the awkward outsiders and the shy children and the students without the support system of a well-established family name. Maybe it was a Machiavellian move, collecting the lonely and obtaining their loyalty for the low price of a bit of attentiveness, but if that were truly the case then surely he should’ve aimed for a higher goal than the perpetuation of the school Gobstones Club.
Tom Riddle politely scorned Abraxas’ attempts at protection and informal adoption via enrollment in the Gobstones Club (Tom could appreciate the aesthetics of chess even if he didn’t like it when the pieces expressed their opinions but Gobstones were frankly disgusting) and so Abraxas Malfoy subsequently lost interest in the younger boy.
When Eileen Prince started school in the following year, Septimius was quick to spot the girl’s potential and Abraxas immediately designated her as his protégé and eventual successor.
This rather irked Walburga Black, who had already decided that Eileen Prince would attend on her in return for guidance and advice and an eventual introduction to polite society. Walburga made rather a habit of complaining to her cousin Cedrella, Abraxas’ fiancée by family agreement and arrangements, about Eileen’s involvement in the Gobstones Club.
(6)
Eileen was impressed by Abraxas Malfoy’s enthusiasm about Gobstones and the unifying power of an Inter-House Club.
Eileen, who hadn’t played any games since she’d been sent to England, appreciated Abraxas Malfoy for teaching her how to play Gobstones.
Eileen was damn near preternaturally good at Gobstones.
Eileen rather enjoyed Gobstones.
She particularly liked the fact that she wasn’t expected or required to make eye contact with anyone else during a game.
Later on, Eileen would wonder if she should’ve said anything the day she walked into the club room and saw Cedrella in Septimius Weasley’s embrace. At the time, she’d mostly worried that speaking up might ruin the fun times in the Gobstones Club and was glad she’d managed to slip back out of the room unnoticed.
(7)
The story went that Cygnus and Walburga Black had come out of the womb each with their little hands around the other’s throat (Eileen believed it and privately wished that the unborn Walburga had had the sense to have used Cygnus’ umbilical cord as a garrote instead). Poor Professor Slughorn had been forced to name them both prefect to avoid granting either one power over the other and so suffered through their sly squabbling at every weekly meeting.
The only thing those siblings could share without complaint was a deep and abiding disdain for their little brother Alphard.
Alphard, for his part, meandered through life with a wistful and vague expression on his face and would prefer to take a twenty-mile detour of avoidance rather than go through half a foot of confrontation or conflict.
Walburga compared him, most unfavorably, to a spineless and brainless jellyfish. Cygnus, less poetically inclined, mostly berated Alphard for failing to live up the standard required for a member of the House of Black.
No one was terribly surprised when old Sluggy passed Alphard by and handed the prefect badge to the half-blood Tom Riddle.
(8)
Abraxas was delighted, no, really, delighted, that Eileen recruited Alphard Black for the Gobstones Club (recruited was a bit of an exaggeration, it had been more of a gentle buffeting in the general direction of the club room and holding the door open while the older boy drifted in).
It showed initiative, it showed that she was absolutely prime material for future Captain of the Gobstones Club.
He was so proud.
Walburga and Cygnus would probably appreciate any efforts made at giving Alphard some direction, something to do with his life.
Alphard, for his part, was absolutely terrible at Gobstones.
(9)
As one of her first acts as Captain of the Gobstones Club, an awkward attempt at emulating the graduated Abraxas’ accepting attitude, Eileen offered to teach one of the younger boys in her house how to play the game.
Rubeus Hagrid was massive, even at age 13.
With his impressive bulk he should’ve chosen to be a brute or a bully; it would’ve made his life so much easier if he could claim that he’d meant to break things and to step on the smaller students. Unfortunately, he had too much of a soft heart to ever intend to hurt anyone and a soft heart paired with an over-sized body had, thus, landed him firmly in the despised category of “clumsy oaf”.
Eileen didn’t mind Rubeus Hagrid too much, he was so tall it was hard to make accidental eye contact and he was always willing to help set up the club room and clean up afterwards.
Hagrid, unfortunately, was even worse than Alphard at Gobstones.
(10)
When the Daily Prophet printed a birth announcement for an Ignacio Weasley, it filled Eileen with such pity and she considered writing to her Gobstones mentor.
She wasn’t very good with kind words, she’d rather lacked in an early role model, and she wondered if Abraxas would even accept or appreciate her condolences.
Septimius Weasley’s reputation was quite tarnished and his vault was swiftly drained in an effort to make reparations to his new wife’s family. Cedrella Black was, of course, soon disowned for her breach of promise (after all, her prerogative could not override a contract made by the head of her family house).
The Transfiguration Professor, Head of Gryffindor and immensely biased in Septimius’ favor, said sad things about the difficult course of true love and Eileen loathed him for the twinkle in his eye and his willingness to overlook the double betrayal Abraxas had suffered. Professor Dumbledore’s class gave her a regular headache, even if she looked at his stupid, garish, ugly robes instead of meeting his too blue gaze. It was easy enough for her to hate the professor and his class.
Tom Riddle found the Malfoy-Weasley love-tangle situation immensely funny, and, because Tom Riddle thought Abraxas’ heartbreak and misfortune was a bit of a joke, Rosier and Mulciber and Avery and Nott and Lestrange all treated the situation as a great laugh.
Love, Riddle maintained, was a puerile waste of time and an unacceptably idiotic vulnerability.
Love, agreed Rosier and Mulciber and Avery and Nott and Lestrange, was for the losers of this world.
Alphard Black, who was quite fond of his cousin Cedrella (particularly when compared to his feelings for his siblings) and had some tepidly positive thoughts in Abraxas’ direction, tended to drift out of his dormitory at these times. He challenged Eileen Prince to quite a few games of Gobstones and lost, pathetically, every time.
(He didn't mind, because there was very little he allowed himself to mind, and he was almost willing to admit to himself that he liked watching Eileen win).
Eileen put off writing to Abraxas, letting her doubts delay her day after day and week after week.
Then there was that business with the Chamber of Secrets opening, and Eileen was quite distracted and forgot all about writing to comfort and support Abraxas Malfoy.
(11)
Her parents had promised there would be no bad wizards, no monsters wearing a human face, in England.
(for the tag game) I might be completely wrong for this one lol, but I feel like "game, set and match" will be rather light-hearted/funny?
thank you very much for the ask, anon! a top-notch choice from the work-in-progress tag game buffet.
and one which you've got completely wrong - game, set, and match will not be light-hearted at all. unless you happen to have the absurd opinion that augusta longbottom and minerva mcgonagall finding themselves in an enemies-to-lovers situation during a charity croquet tournament [a game wizards play with geese, following an incident in the nineteenth century when the statute of secrecy seemed to have been broken after some bloke called lewis carroll leaked that they used to use flamingos] would be funny.
honestly, catch yourself on.
[this is one for @ladiesofhpfest - for the week on senior sweethearts. what can i say, i love a pair of bitchy, sharp-tongued - behave! - older lesbians]
featuring: minerva one hundo bringing up the letter she sends in half-blood prince reminding augusta she failed charms; augusta's bff, griselda marchbanks telling her that you're never too old to learn some new tricks - in her case, windsurfing, in augusta's case, tumbling in the hay with the hogwarts headmistress; all the fierce old ladies hating gladys gudgeon because she won't stop going on about gilderoy lockhart; all the fierce old ladies hating muriel prewett just because she's a knob; filius flitwick, pomona sprout, and poppy pomfrey having no idea what to do with their friend agonising over getting a letter back at her big age; horace slughorn being ride-or-die for a country fete; and neville literally considering moving to siberia when confronted with the evidence that his gran's suddenly found herself with a very active sex life.
These 2 events give me the same energy.
Even if it's small or silly, getting something from/giving something to the people you love is never a bad thing.
and certainly not something that should be trampled upon like this. All the more when it's adults towards children.
Hey, I know the Regulus adopts Harry trope is all fun and games and I love it but like you can't honestly tell me that he wouldn't (also) cuasi-adopt Draco, Luna and Neville because like
Are you seriously telling me that Regulus wouldn't be the proud uncle of his favourite cousin's son!? He would probably steal Draco at least twice a week!
That he wouldn't have his bestie's daughter at his house as many days as the year have? He would probably take Luna and Harry on vacations. To the beach or the mountains together they go. And when Pandora died he would offer all the help possible to Xenophilius, and he would tell Luna, just as he does Harry, stories of her mum, and she had always been his Soulmate even though they would never have a romantic relationship. Also he would raise hell the first time he heard about Luna being bullied.
Then whe have Neville, who is such a sweet kid, and after hearing that it was his cousin the one that did that to his parents he can't help but feels guilty. So he goes and apologises to Augusta. And somehow, she had just lost her son, and she feels old, and has found herself raising a toddler. So she accepts his apology, because he's young and somehow he reminds him a little to the boy she lost. So she cries, and is Regulus the one that is there that day and many others. And from that moment on, Neville becomes a common fixture to Regulus's house. There aren't going to be any window child dropping this time around.
And Harry couldn't be happier, it was strange at first. Finding himself suddenly in the care of this man child of wizard. But he feels safe. And loved. Oh so loved. So he never felt jealous when kids started appearing, in fact he is just happy about it all in general. Having a parent, having siblings, and cousin and a sister in all but blood. So he feels content.
Also, Regulus having to send three of his children to Howarts at the same time is just an emotional wreck
Summary: In years to come, 1984 would be remembered as the Christmas with all that snow.
Why You Should Check It Out:
Dueltastic has both these prickly characters down to a T. This is a fabulous take on the "snowed-in" trope, which manages, somehow, to be completely in-character and sweetly romantic without being at all sappy. McGonagall is all practicality and no sentimentality, and Aberforth is amused and, despite his brusque demeanor, entirely enthralled.
Four Christmases Pomona Sprout Loved and One She Hated
Summary: For Pomona Sprout, Christmas is always a wonderful time. Well, almost always.
Why You Should Check It Out:
This story is just right for the holidays, with its warm coziness, spiced up by a a little tang in the form of gruff Aberforth and tart Minerva adding to its pleasures.
I have a soft spot for Pomona, and this fic is a perfect example of why. Smart, competent, and caring is such a winning combination, and the odd couple of Aberforth and Pomona is just so right in the author's hands.
Filus Flitwick's Christmas
Characters: Aberforth Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore, Argus Filch, Cornelius Fudge, Filius Flitwick, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape
Creator: therealsnape
Rating: K+/PG
Word Count: 12,999
Summary: “Right,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, as Minerva and he sat in her study, now fully cleared of the dinner things. “There’s the five of you, there’s the House Elves, there’s Argus Filch. And there’s one hell of a mess, with a spoiled painting. This wants clearing up."
Why You Should Check It Out:
A wonderful Hogwarts locked-room mystery with insightful characterizations and a bit of well-earned revenge. I especially love how the author has drawn a much-matured Ron, who is becoming quite a clever fellow!
The Rose That Lived
Characters: Aberforth Dumbledore, Augusta Longbottom, Filius Flitwick, Hannah Abbott, Irma Pince, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Original Character, Pomona Sprout, Poppy Pomfrey, Severus Snape
trans neville longbottom. the reason voldemort didn’t go after him is because he heard that the longbottoms were having a girl. augusta is very supportive, she’s the one who gave neville his name (it was the name his parents would have given him!!)
Okay, so Augusta has had shades of being abusive towards Neville (her treatment towards him counts as abuse, right?) i mean it’s definitely not on the dursleys’ level, so with that said, it’s not irredeemable, is it? I mean, she did ease up, even though it came later and only at the heel of neville doing something noteworthy. And do you think she was always like this? Like when she was raising Frank, his father, was she always critical? Do you think, if Frank and Alice hadn’t been tortured and were able to raise Neville, Frank would have the courage to stand up to his mother?
I feel like i went all over the place, im sorry if this seems confusing :/
Yeah I think Augusta abuses Neville phycologically pressuring him to be better and more like his father. That's why I think Augusta was overprotective of Frank. For Augusta, Frank was her precious baby. I don't think she was particularly abusive of Frank, she just wanted to take decisions for him and mold his life for his "own good". Maybe that's some sort of abuse, but yeah she didn't mean harm.
My headcanon is that Frank was supposed to be just like his father when he grew up. And Augusta pressured Frank to do that.
Also my headcanon is that Augusta didn't like Alice at first. She thought she wasn't good enough for her son.
Even though Frank was calm and obedient, he fell for Alice so that caused conflict between him and his mother. Augusta believed it was Alice who was changing him. So she hated her even more.
I think Frank had always been a mommy's boy, obedient and quiet, always accepting his mother's wishes. So his love for Alice made him stand up to his parents for the first time. And it wasn't easy. But he didn't want to leave Alice.
In my head, Frank marries Alice against his parents' will. He becomes an auror to fight in a war. And his parents stopped talking to him for a while.
It wasn't until Neville was born when things started to change. Augusta met her grandchild and immediately loved him. And Augusta was regretful of how she had been acting.
Augusta got closer again but mainly for Neville and still treating Alice poorly. Which still caused fights between mother and son.
After Frank and Alice were tortured, Augusta felt guilty for the way she had acted. And swore to take care of Neville. But she was overprotective and strict with him as well. Always remembering her son.
I think she is not an evil woman, she is just thinks she is doing the best for Neville in Frank's honor. But she is making the same mistakes with him.
Only One Bed at the Three Broomsticks (Augusta/Andromeda for @hpsaffics bingo & @hp-flowers autumn round)
Andromeda drinks only one day a week, when she doesn't have Teddy to look after, because she is a responsible grandmother and certainly not an alcoholic. Getting too drunk to Apparate home is expected. The presence of Augusta is not.
HP Sapphic Bingo's Andromeda/Augusta + HP Flower's Heather
Tags: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Second Wizarding War with Voldemort, Grief/Mourning, Language of Flowers, Teddy has a babysitter don't worry
I've been in HP fandom for quite a while (since 2008), during which time literally thousands of fanfics have been written. Thus it's easy to lose track of all the wonderful older stories and artworks. So I thought I'd start a new tradition for myself: every Friday, I'll rec an HP femslash story or artwork that might be unfamiliar to many fans. Most of these recs will feature the older HP women, since that's where my heart lies. But younger characters won't be absent. Today's gem comes from the 2009 edition of HP_Beholder, imo one of the best fests ever to grace the HP fandom.
Title: A Toast to Lord Voldemort
Author: Magnetic Pole
Pairing: Minerva McGonagall/Augusta Longbottom
Word Count: 4500
Rating: PG
Author's Summary: Neville joins an unexpected celebration.
Why I Love It: Not only is Magnetic Pole a fine writer, but she's also created spot-on characterizations. Minerva and Augusta are just as matter-of-fact, tart-tongued, and self-sufficient as you'd expect. Neville is a delight. And the magical world-building is exactly right.