#corrects himself and says of course not shes in the hospital wing

[warty-hog-legacy]

SKETCHES 

of Clara’s clothing. Will do school uniforms eventually

headcanon under the cut

Also, after the whole fighting-Ranrok thing (gotta happen in March, right? still snowy out), Clara is wounded via knife slash to her ankle, also twisted same ankle, got walloped by a troll, scratched up her legs something awful sliding on rocks, and then watched her favorite professor die. She’s in hysterics when Sharp and Prof. Onai are trying to corral her up to the hospital wing. She keeps trying to escape and go find the entrance to the mined tunnel.

Pls keep in mind, she’s 15, been awake for like 36 hours straight, and just lost someone important to her (again, so like, old memories of her sister dying are resurfacing). Obviously, she is a pillar of calm and collected sanity.

Additional Information: When the tremors with the Ancient Magic started, the Profs who did not go to help fight were herding students into the Great Hall, like when Sirius scratched up the Pink Lady’s portrait. So a not insignificant number the student body heard Clara’s screeches, snuck to the door and saw the floating cot with a body under a sheet, the haunted looks on the professors as they return.

Rumors circulate. As they do.

So two mornings later, when Sebastian has worked up the nerve to actually talk to Clara (he heard her parents were summoned in the middle of the night, also heard she lost her mind, that a dragon lived under the castle, castle was almost blown up, etc... who knows what’s true). So. He’s going to talk to her. Which he’s talked to loads of girls, and talked to Clara loads of times. Except that she’s refused to talk to him since the Uncle Solomon incident, and that’s why he’s nervous and trying to talk himself into seeing her.

Instead he Lurks (defintely lurking) outside the hospital wing, unsure if he wants to talk to her or not. He sticks his head into the door, half hoping she’s still sleeping and half-hoping she’ll see him and all that awkward guilt will vanish.

Sebastian is treated to a view of privacy curtains halfway down the wing. And through a little gap, he gets a glimpse of her lacing up her corset. Just for like, 1 total second.

5 minutes later, a bunch of second-years watch him sprint out of the castle and dive headfirst into the lake.

[marypaol]

Skin To Skin

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of Draco knowing who his soulmate is, yet he can’t bear to face her.

Warnings: Teasing, Boggarts, mention of fears, mention of the Hospital Wing, the Weasley twins being themselves, etc.

Note: This is Part 2 of “Copy Of A Copy”, so check it out before you read this! (And I’m sorry if this one is bad)

Copy Of A Copy

Masterlist

Request Reauirements

This person believed in me so here you go! : @theomalfoy

Draco wasn’t the want-everything-to-go-back-to-the-way-it-was-after-complaining-about-it-type.

Well, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But he knew deep down that he did want everything to go back to the way they were, because every time he looked at his hand, that deep red spot of irritated skin was slowly fading away and he wanted to find a reason to create it again.

She’d stopped drawing. And normally Draco would find that a good thing; now he didn’t have to harshly wipe them off and be left an embarrassing red spot on his hand. But he found himself thinking back on how the drawings actually looked good, despite him being annoyed at the fact they repeatedly showed up on his skin, and he wanted them back. Which, of course, sounds ridiculous if you were to look back on how he acted towards the other drawings that previously showed up on his hand.

But he missed it. Missed watching the lines form one by one, letting him know she existed. He even couldn’t get the image of her face out of his mind, ever since he saw her in Care of Magical Creatures. He couldn’t help but think she was decently pretty.

Draco’s hand has unwanted sweat on it so he harshly wiped it on his robes, a disgusted expression lying on his lips. He knew the reason for the sweat though, his quill once again hovering over his skin, the same skin he used to aggressively rub almost everyday as his soulmate drew mindless doodles on her hand.

He dipped the quill tip in the ink, the noises of everyone scattering about being the last thing on his mind, in fact the occasional “SHH!” from Madam Irma Prince was quite helpful to encourage him to focus once the students followed her orders.

He sighed softly, taking a deep breath while staring stupidly at his pale skin he was about to ruin.

He leaned down, the quill tip making contact with his hand two times, forming two dots. Those were eyes, he decided, and drew a straight line below them, making a face that represented him at the moment. His eyes were full yet his lips held uncertainty, hesitant to do this.

Once it was over it didn’t seem so bad anymore, as long as he could manage to hide it from Crabbe and Goyle. The thought of them teasing him about it, teasing him about actually writing back on his skin was unbearable. He could only hope that they don’t stare at his hand.

“Don’t be scared now, it’s just a Boggart.” Professor Lupin explained, his wand held with two hands, a grip on each end.

“Now, Boggarts like tight dark places, and I found this one in the wardrobe yesterday. I asked Dumbledore if we could use it for the lesson and thankfully he said yes. Now, does anyone know what a Boggart looks like?”

The usual hand of Hermione Granger was shot up at the speed of lightning, and once she was called on, she answered not only the right answer but was awarded points for her House.

“No one knows, sir. It takes form of the deepest fear of whomever it faces.”

“Correct, Ms. Granger.” Lupin said, smiling while Granger went slightly pink.

Draco rolled his eyes, irritation seeming to be boiling within them.

“But, everyone, we have an advantage against this creature. And that is?”

“There’s so many of us, it doesn’t know what to turn into?” Potter answered, and Lupin replied with a smile, and awarded more points to Gryiffindor.

“Exactly!” Lupin exclaimed. “Now, though, there is a way to get past a Boggart. And that spell is Riddikulus!” Lupin said, doing the hand movement with the one that possessed his wand. “Say it with me now…”

“Riddikulus!” The class said together.

“This class is ridiculous.” Draco mutters under his breath, Crabbe nodding in agreement beside him while he heard a snuffled laugh somewhere near. His head swerved and he spotted the same girl he saw in Hagrid’s class, trying not to smirk at his joke. He found a smirk coming to his own lips, proud of himself.

“They feed on fear, so think of what you fear the most, and turn it into something funny.” Lupin once again explained, and brought up Neville as a demonstration. “Now, Neville, tell me, what do you fear the most?”

“P-professor Snape.” the boy mumbled, having to repeat the same thing again but a little louder since the Professor didn’t hear him.

“Ahh.” Lupin said amusingly once the name was repeated. “I suppose he does intimidate us all in some way.”

There was a pause before Lupin continued to project to the class, for he was having a quiet conversation with the student before him. “Now Neville, I want you to think of your Grandmother’s clothes very clearly in your mind, can you do that?”

Neville nodded, shaking in his shoes. The door opened and Snape stepped out, looking normal as ever like you’d see him everyday but Neville was scared.

“Wand at the ready!” Lupin reminded, Neville held his wand up and squeaked, “Riddikulus!”

Snape seemed to spin around and he soon found himself in Neville Longbottom’s Grandmother’s clothes, a red handbag on his right arm.

The class laughed, Neville’s face slowly turned into an expression of relief.

Draco scoffed basically the whole time, not ending up actually facing the Boggart but watching as his peers did.

Weasley was practically having a seizure as he faced the spider, helplessly whimpering the spell causing the spider to have roller skates, legs swinging everywhere.

Draco couldn’t help but be curious on what the girl’s fear was, but she didn’t end up facing it just like him.

There was an exited buzz in the air as the students left class, each of them wanting recognition for how brave they were while facing their biggest fears.

“-did you see how I faced that snake-”

“-just said the spell and it went, pop!-”

“-the spider was huge!-”

“-never seen that kind of creature before-”

Draco grumbled angrily, grabbing Crabbe and Goyle’s arms and leading them out to the courtyard in front of the Black Lake.

“That was stupid. Why did he let us do that anyway, and for Dumbledore to give permission…wait til by father hears of this.” He mumbled, looking down and adjusting his arm bandages, thinking back when he insulted the Hippogriff. (He still didn’t regret it, the creature did look kinda ugly to him.)

“Right. We should owl him right away.” Crabbe suggested.

Draco looked up from his arm, eyes flaring. “‘We?!’ I’ll do it. It’s my father after all.”

His friends nodded, Crabbe going pink in the ears.

Goyle’s eyes then shot to Draco’s hand. “Ha! What’s that, Malfoy?”

Draco acted confused, and looking down, acted like he’d seen it for the first time. He pretended to look disgusted. “Gross I tell you, I’ll wash it off later.” He said, looking back at them. Both pair of eyes were still on him.

“Well? What are you looking at?” He snarled, and that seemed to do the trick, both heads bending down as they suddenly found interest in the grass.

“Do this Potion before you leave class, and then a portion of it on my desk with your name on it.”

Snake’s sharp voice echoed through the dark classroom, his gaze seeming to meet all of their eyes before he turned around, adding one last part of his instructions in the black board and heading to his desk, long nose lurking over the surface covered in parchment.

The girl sighed, opening the book to the page instructed and starting to chop the first ingredient. She liked to think of herself good at Potions, but sometimes little things like the reactants would mix up in her mind. But nonetheless if she focused hard enough and followed each step carefully, than she was proud to say that she could do it almost perfectly.

It was only then that she noticed the black markings on the back of her hand, and, looking more closely by bringing up her hand to her face, saw it was a smiley face. It looked smeared a little and the lines were wobbly, but she liked it since she wasn’t the one to draw it.

Scurrying through her bag pretending she was looking for something important, grabbed a quill and dipped it in another student’s ink when they weren’t looking. Then, turning back to her hand and covering it behind her cauldron so the nosy Professor wouldn’t see, drew two eyes next to his, a soft smile beneath it to show her gratitude. He didn’t do much, just too dots and a line, but the reason was all that mattered to her.

She just knew that he missed her somewhat forms of affection, so he acted upon himself to continue it.

“Ridiculous, I tell you, why’d he look at me like that? The audacity of some peop-”

“Sorry.”

Draco didn’t realize he ran into someone else, too busy rambling to himself about an annoying First Year who glared at him out of nowhere to notice his body ran into another. It ended up being a Third Year Hufflepuff, quickly scurrying around the corner to avoid the Slytherin.

Draco rolled his eyes, turning back to the direction he was going and continuing to walk to the Common Room. He muttered the password, climbing into the space full of couches and chairs, all in front of a burning fire, flames high and bright, full of color.

He sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to get back from the Hospital Wing; the Weasley twins caught them in the hallway, convinced them to eat some candy, and now their faces were covered in red dots that got bigger by the second. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes at the news when Madame told him before making his way to the room.

He currently sat with a Potions book in his hands, long fingers running across the pages that helped his eyes read it better.

He turned the page, but the page he turned got caught on his robes, and, using his left hand, went to fix it before he froze. On his left wrist, he had another smile face beside the one he drew, this one with an actual smile this time not a straight line like his.

He fought a grin that was threatening to pull the corners of his lips, reaching over to pull his robe sleeve over it so no one could see.

-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!

Person I think would like this: @dunningz :)

[kurosstuff]

Hihi Lovely~

I have a fluff prompt for the followers event

🍯 Reader (can be fem or gn i dont mind) is an exorcist and they get really hurt on the last exorcism and so they are gone for weeks and Sera is freaking out and can’t come see them cause of her work. But they surprise her with flowers and showing up when she’s working?? (They escaped the hospital-)

Hi sweetie ~ thank you for requesting! Hope you like it♡♡

Warming(s): fighting detailed? Idk I don't know how to write fights. Blood. Sera being a worry wart

Sera x GN!Exorcist! reader: Escape artist

The job was supposed to be easy.

It was almost always easy. But not this time. Somehow? The demons were told how to fight back. How to win. How to hurt angels. You weren't even aware that was possible. But seeing both your bosses reactions? You growled now annoyed. They knew.

Of fucking course they knew.

And they didn't tell the Exorcists? The actual FUCK is that? You raged, slicing demons left and right covered in a mix of angel blood and demon blood. Taking a deep breath, your wings flapped in anger. You weren't surprised. Their too prideful to have warned anyone. You silently cursed, Adam and Lute.

If you knew you could get hurt? Your arm wouldn't have been bleeding. You wouldn't have ran face first into battle. Dodging an attack from your opponent, you easily sliced his arm off. "Hands off, sinner," you growled out. Punching the demons face away from you.

Unaware of the crowd forming behind you. Unaware it was all a trap for you. Hands grabbed you snarling you glared at the sinners. "Unhand me-" your voice cut out from a scream escaping you as a demon broke your arm. Another grabbing your weapon, stabbing into you repeatedly, making you lose so much blood. Everything went black when you heard a familiar voice yelling at you - blurred vision - as you saw what looked to be Adam rushing to you

-

It was quiet as Sera worked. A usually calming day turned to an unsettling feeling. Sera felt off. It was so unnerving that - why did she have such a bad feeling? Like it wasn't as calming as she assumed? As she hoped? Glancing at the feather around her neck, she smiled, kissing it gently. "Be safe, my love. Soon, you'll be here. Back" a loud bang down the hall was heard followed by yells of something. Leaning back, she tapped her feathered pen humming that unnerving feeling grew.

Sera stopped seeing Adam. Who? Weirdly was quiet. Putting her pen down, she watched. Waiting for him to speak. Watching how uncomfortable he was. A bad feeling crept up her. She didn't like this. Not one bit. As he spoke, she listened to him. Listened to how he spoke of an accident. What exactly what happened he wouldn't say until he said your name. Her blood ran cold. Her extra eyes popping out, staring him down

"What?"

Adam gulped "i- like I said. Your mate? Y/N? Got hurt. Badly." Knowing it was his fault. And by the look in her eyes? She knew it too "look- I- no one saw the demon. No one expected them to try to fight back Ser- High Leader" correcting himself knowing how she got in when mad. Better to be fully respectful. Despite her being kind- she is still a Seraphim.

"I told you. To keep them safe. You know how-" she snarled about to break her composure. Covering her face, giving her a second. Swallowing her rage "Adam. You are excused. Do not allow another to come in here for the time being" making him nod

"I think- I think you should visi-"

"What did I say?"

At that? He turned rushing off without a word. No matter how she wished to. She can't visit. She's the high leader. She has a job to do. No matter how she longed to see her Mate. To see her love. To see how their doing. She can't

Picking up the pen, she sighed, knowing? You were aware of it as well.

-

Weeks.

A full three weeks since the last extermination. Since Sera saw you. Heard from you- she wasn't sure what was going on. Frantically, she focuses on her work. To not lose her composure. Yet. She wondered. Are you ok? Do you wish she gave up her work her responsibilities? To rush to your side?

Taking a deep breath, she played with the feather nervous. Oh, how she hopes you know even if she wanted to. She couldn't be able to. Not with her rules. Not with how important her reputation is. Closing her eyes. She hummed

She needed more coffee.

And by God does she need it bad.

-

Taking a full three weeks to rest was boring. Didn't matter the broken arm nor how the stitches in your sides burned. Made you wince by even moving. You sighed, glancing out the window, smiling the best you could. Half your face bandaged up from the slashes. Thank God it was from a normal weapon you thought. Can't lose an eye. But luckily it'll reheal itself

Glancing around the room, you hummed, thinking before smirking at a thought. You could sneak out. See Sera- God, do you miss her. Humming softly you hopped she was resting. Not overworking when she's upset or panicked.

But you knew better.

You knew she was despite you wishing otherwise. Cause, of course, she'd worry. Of course, she'd panic. So? She's over working herself.

Getting up was the tricky part. Legs aren't broken, no, but the pain in your body was too great. Thankfully, your wings were somehow in perfect condition. Helping you get up, flapping to stand up. Taking a deep breath, ignoring how your body begged you to get back to bed. To rest.

You needed to see your mate.

-

Luckily, it didn't take too long.

Just needed to rush to get flowers avoid the guards(who knew you'd probably run) and escape to Seras office. Now- the tricky part sneaking INTO her office. No doubt if her guards saw? They'd wisk you back to the hospital. Not wanting to be in trouble for aiding a break out.

Snickering at the thought, you held the flowers close, flying past some guards easily. Making you hum. Surely their not that blind no? Surely theyd.. be more vigilant. More watchful.

But no.

They arent

Good thing for this, but.. bad job at guarding. Rolling your eyes, you entered into her office frowning, seeing how ruffled her feathers are. Walking up to her, you gulped, nervous. Would she be upset your here?

"Thought I said no guests. Leave. I'm in no mood"

Your nerves melted at her voice no matter how angry she sounded. You were just glad to hear from her after weeks, "Not even your mate?" AT that? She snapped up, looking dead at you. Blank. Before she teared up, smiling tiredly rushing to you gently lifting upu "got flowers?"

"Oh my swan~ who cares for that? Your..your ok~ your here-" she stopped staring at you, her wings enveloping you in a hug "you snuck out. You should be resting. Not- not here!" She scoffed but the smile on her face? Said otherwise

"Needed to see you," you smiled softly, kissing her knuckles as she gently nuzzled you. "I missed you. I know you're a busy woman, but.. I was hoping you'd be resting?" Kissing her softly as she hummed

"If I did. It wouldn't be good. I'd be pulling my feathers out to find you -" whispering softly to you, holding you closer. Sighing, she reluctantly away. "My swan. You need to go back. As much as.. I wish for you to stay. You can't. Your stitches need constant watch" she frowned Kissing you again gently

"Only if you take a break"

"My swan," she huffed, giving you a look, making you huff shrugging

"Then I guess.. I'll stay here?" With a deep sigh knowing she lost she nodded. Rubbing your waist gently "fine I'll. I'll take breaks. Not long ones but.. fine" she grumbled as you grinned nodding

If this is what you're both gonna see after the five weeks are up? You both can wait another two. But for now. Until the nurses come retrieve you. She'll cradle you close. Gently as if you'd break. She's let herself be a bit selfish until then. Take her much needed break

[helnjk]

By Its Cover - F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: fred knows he’s quick to act and to judge, but what happens when it backfires with the pretty healer he meets at st. mungo’s? 

Warnings: malfoy!reader, mentions of hospitals, mentions of light injury, being estranged from one’s family, found family, adoption, insecurity 

A/N: this is for @theweasleysredhair‘s 9k writing challenge! my prompt was ‘i love you, but stop talking.’ so sorry i took this long to churn it out, but i hope you like it 💕

prompt is in bold

–

St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was always full of healers rushing through the halls and patients with the strangest afflictions. 

Y/N Malfoy donned her healer robes and walked confidently through one of the wards, on her way to deal with her newest patient. Some sort of accidental explosion. According to the file, he was a male, 23 years old, and had a history of finding himself in the emergency wing of St. Mungo’s. It was Y/N’s first time treating him, though. 

Pushing aside one of the curtains to the correct cubicle, she was met with the sight of a long and lanky redheaded man, lying on the hospital bed with patches of purple across his neck and exposed chest. Other than the fact that his skin was discolored, he seemed perfectly okay. 

His eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement as the nurse on duty made sure he was comfortable. Clearly, he was in no pain at all, or if he was, it wasn’t enough to stop him from sending flirty comments in her direction. Used to this kind of behaviour, the nurse simply rolled her eyes playfully and continued her routine checks. 

“Ah,” she noted when she saw Y/N walk in, “I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of Healer Malfoy now, alright?”

With a soft pat on the patient’s non-purple shoulder, she gave Y/N a tentative smile and nod before exiting the small cubicle and closing the curtains on her way out.

Y/N, however, didn’t miss the way her patient’s shoulders tensed as he heard her last name. Her heart sank slightly as she saw the playfulness in his eyes dim, but she refused to let her feelings get the better of her professionalism. After all, she was quite used to this treatment from patients and colleagues alike. 

“Hello mister,” she paused to check her clipboard, “Weasley. Now what can I help you with today? Could you tell me exactly what happened with the potion you were brewing?” 

 “Added the wrong amount of aconite,” came his curt reply. 

“Right,” she said, noting it down on his file, “And what other ingredients were mixed in the potion?”

“Look, I’m completely fine. Things like this happen all the time at my workplace, the patches of color will fade away eventually. I just need you to sign the release form.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed and her smile slipped into a small frown. This was going to be a tough one. She had recognized his last name and she knew he was a pureblood. There was no doubt in her mind that the moment he realized she was a Malfoy, he created an image in his mind that was the furthest thing from what she truly was. 

With a soft sigh, she prepared herself to deal with the resistance that would come from her reply, “I’m sorry Mr. Weasley, but I can’t let you go until–”

“Healer Malfoy, there you are!” said a little girl who was dressed in her own small hospital gown as she burst through the curtains. 

For a moment, both adults in the small space gaped at her as if she were a ghost. 

“Mattie!” Y/N said, surprised. “What are you doing all the way here, silly? You’re meant to be resting after the round of potions you took this afternoon.” 

Currently preoccupied by her small ward, Healer Malfoy didn’t notice the way Fred Weasley was staring at her. As if she had grown a second head. 

“But I missed you,” whined Mattie, wrapping her arms around one of Y/N’s legs. “You said you’d visit again to read books!”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips, “Yes, but I said I’d come read books after my rounds and after you napped! Nurse Thomas must be looking all over for you.” 

The pout that the small child sent up at her nearly made it past Y/N’s strongholds. 

“But I want to stay with you, Healer Malfoy!” she whined, “Please!” 

With a bright eyed, stubborn toddler clutching onto her legs, she couldn’t possibly say no to the request. However, her keen awareness of the other critical pair of eyes on her gave her pause. 

“Oh alright,” she caved, taking a moment to glance back at her patient, “But you’ve got to be good while I just finish up with my patient here okay? He’s gotten into a bit of an accident and I have to help him out. We don’t usually have purple skin, right?”

“Right!” 

For the first time since she barged into the room, Mattie seemed to notice the redhead on the hospital bed. 

“How’ve you got purple skin?” she asked confidently. Fred’s eyebrows shot up towards his forehead at the direct question before a large grin spread across his face. 

Working at Wheezes gave him loads of experience when it came to curious little kids, and he was quick with his response, “I was making a secret experiment and it exploded all over me!” 

His tone was conspiratorial and just enough for the little girl to move away from her position clutching Y/N’s legs and to inch closer to him.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley was just about to tell me what other ingredients were in his secret experiment so that I can help put his skin back to normal.” 

Fortunately for the healer, Mattie’s presence aided in softening the redhead’s attitude towards her. With the little girl firing question after question for Fred to answer, he was much more calm and receptive to whatever Y/N needed to ask or know. 

Unknown to her, the reason why Fred was more compliant this time around was because he was busy trying to alter the image he had conjured in his head about what a Malfoy was, and the scene he had just witnessed. He hadn’t known any Malfoy to be as patient, considerate, and overall just kind to someone who was not their own. Yet here she was, perfectly balancing a needy-child and a patient who judged her too quickly. 

“Alright Mr. Weasley, I’m just going to pop out to get you the right potions to take for this and I’ve got to get Ms. Mattie over here back to her room,” said Y/N, “I’ll be right back.” 

“Bye Mr. Weasel! I hope you get to finish your secret experiment!” Mattie waved enthusiastically, turning from her position holding Y/N’s hand to get one last look at the redhead. 

When Y/N returned, Fred was sitting quietly on the bed, twirling his wand absentmindedly. The sound of her pushing back the curtains drew his eyes upwards towards her figure, and he sent her a tentative smile. 

Well that’s an improvement, she thought, returning the gesture slightly. 

“Alright,” she said, placing a box down next to him, “Here are the potions to take, there are two, you’ll have to drink them twice a day for the next three to four days or so. Your skin should return to normal by then.” 

Y/N watched as her patient’s eyes darted from the box of potions to her face then down to his hands. He seemed hesitant now, a far cry from the ease and calm that he donned the first time she saw him. 

Still, her job was done. She had equipped him with what he needed to heal and she had no jurisdiction over his temperament. 

“If you don’t have any questions–”

“How are you related to Draco Malfoy?” 

Fred’s question came out of the blue and it took Y/N off guard. Her heart clenched at the mention of her younger brother, the one she hadn’t seen in more than a decade. Still, the question is much too complicated and there’s so much history behind it that he doesn’t know about, she shook her head. 

“I’m sorry,” she began, clutching her clipboard close to her body, “But that is a very personal question and I don’t like to share that kind of information with patients.” 

She noticed him visibly swallow, “Right. You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, Mr. Weasley. Don’t forget to take your potions, twice a day, for the next four days.” 

Y/N’s back is turned and she’s about to pull the curtain of the cubicle aside when she hears a faint, “Wait.” 

When she turned on her heel to face the redhead once more, there’s a sheepish expression on his face. He was rubbing the back of his neck slowly and the tips of his ears were tinged pink, “I-er, I’m sorry about how cold I was being towards you earlier. Is there a chance that I can make a better impression over coffee or something?” 

–

It’s a little awkward, Y/N had to admit. They were seated across from each other, clutching warm cups of coffee and taking sips periodically. 

She didn’t know what made her agree to meet Fred on one of her days off. Maybe it was the sincerity in his request, how he seemed eager to make a plan and see her outside her place of work. Or maybe it was her curiosity getting the better of her, knowing that he was a pureblood and what her father would call a blood traitor. 

Y/N had spent so many years hiding away from this part of wizard society, she didn’t know if she wanted to integrate herself back in.

“So, er,” Fred started, “Where’d you go to school? I don’t think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts, and you seem to be around my age.” 

That elicited a small smile from Y/N, “I went to Beauxbatons actually. Went all six years then got a healer apprenticeship at Mungo’s.” 

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “Do you know Fleur then? Fleur Delacour? Or well, she’s Fleur Weasley now.” 

“Of course I know Fleur,” she gushed, “We shared a dorm. One of the sweetest and strongest witches I know.” 

At long last they had a common denominator. After the stilted small talk was out of the way, conversation between them flowed freely. 

Fred, Y/N found out, was wit and cleverness all rolled up into a 6 foot frame. He seemed to have a sarcastic comeback to every quip she made. They made laughs tumble from her mouth and stitches appear in her sides. It was every bit exhilarating and charming. 

Y/N, Fred found out, was absolutely brilliant. Her mind seemed to be running a mile a minute but somehow she was able to put all of her thoughts into carefully worded sentences. He was caught off guard every time she let out a laugh, entranced by the effortless beauty that radiated from her smile. 

Sooner than they had liked, their coffee cups were emptied and they were both glancing at the clock.  

“I, uh, I really enjoyed myself, Fred.” Y/N smiled and gathered her things. 

He sent her a grin in reply, “Me too.” 

She could tell he was hesitant to say something, but she knew not to pry too much. Instead, she simply hoisted her bag over her shoulder. 

The next day, Y/N walked into St. Mungo’s to find Fred nervously shuffling around clutching a cup of coffee in his hand. When he caught sight of her, a smile stretched across his lips and he silently placed the warm cup in her hand. Without saying a word, he pressed a kiss on her cheek, blushed profusely, and waved. 

He had gone through the Floo before Y/N could say anything. When she took a sip, she was pleasantly surprised to note that it had been her exact order from the previous day. 

Slowly, Fred Weasley inched his way into Healer Malfoy’s daily routine. It didn’t surprise her anymore when she would spot him making small talk with the receptionist as she clocked into work. 

Like the first day, the first thing he would do was to hand her the cup of coffee. Some days he would stay and chat for a few minutes before he had to get to work, others he would have to leave right away. What always stayed constant, though, was the kiss on the cheek he would give her before leaving. 

–

“Alright, I’m sure you’re dying to know by now.” Y/N sipped her drink. 

She and Fred had gone out to dinner after weeks of him showing up at Mungo’s every morning. When he finally had the guts to ask her out, she took one look at him before saying ‘took you long enough.’ 

He had been the perfect gentleman the whole time, showing up at her flat with a bundle of flowers in hand, opening doors for her, asking if she was comfortable. Y/N found it extremely endearing to see the cheeky, witty wizard trying so hard to make sure she had a good time. 

Fred sent her a confused look, “What?” 

“How I’m related to Draco,” she explained, “Remember? You asked me the first day we met.” 

“Right. Right, yeah.” 

Despite him trying to appear as if his curiosity hadn’t peaked, Y/N could see the spark of recognition in his eyes. She knew it was time to finally tell him everything. 

She took a deep breath, “He’s my brother.” 

Fred, who was in the process of taking a sip of his own drink, choked on the liquid and began to violently cough.

“I-what?!” he exclaimed, “How are you Draco Malfoy’s sister? How did I not know he had a sister?” 

The absolute disbelief in her boyfriend’s face elicited a small laugh from Y/N, “Because I never went to Hogwarts. Ran away from home when I was pretty young, ended up living with Andy.” 

“Andy…” Fred mumbled, mulling over the information, “You mean Andromeda? Tonks?” 

She nodded, “Yeah. My house was actually a safe house during the last bit of the war, I don’t know if you remember.” 

“Godric now I feel like even more of a huge dumbass for treating you the way I did when I first heard your last name.” 

Y/N’s hand reached over the table and squeezed Fred’s. Her warm smile and kind eyes told him everything he needed to know. He had definitely apologized enough for how quickly he had judged her when she was introduced to him at Mungo’s. She knew that he knew who she really was, and not what her family name meant. 

– 

Fred watched as his girlfriend paced nervously. He wasn’t even quite sure that she knew what she was doing, but as she strode across the room, her bottom lip remained caught under her teeth and her hands were fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed after letting her walk back and forth for long enough, “You’ve got to calm down.”

“I’m totally calm!” she exclaimed, turning quickly to face him. The volume of her statement startled the both of them and Fred sent her a look that definitely said I-told-you-so. 

She sat down next to her boyfriend with a huff and instead of the sarcastic comment she expected to come from him, he took her hand in his. The two of them said nothing as their eyes concentrated on the way he traced her small and nimble fingers with his larger ones. 

“You ready to tell me what’s wrong?” Fred asked eventually. 

At Y/N’s hesitation, he squeezed her hand gently. She gave in with a sigh, “I’m just nervous about meeting your family. I know you’ve talked to them about me, but they don’t exactly know I’m a Malfoy.” 

Before Fred could even open his mouth to reply, she cut him off, “And I know, I know. Your family is wonderful and the complete opposite of mine. I’m just so used to bad first introductions–”

“Y/N, I love you, but stop talking.” 

Y/N let out a nervous laugh at what Fred said, despite how unnerved she felt at the sensation of the bubbles of anxiety in her chest. Still, she couldn’t help but feel the tips of her cheeks and the back of her neck heat up as well. One would think after months of dating the cheeky redhead she would be used to his ways, but hearing him say ‘I love you’ always made her heart flutter. 

Fred shifted, his body turning to face her fully, “Love, my mom would adore you even if you were a hippogriff with anger issues. The fact that you make me happy and that you love me is more than enough for her. You are more than enough.”

Then, he wrapped her up in his arms, her cheek resting against his chest. She could hear the rhythmic beat of his heart, and in the calming presence of her boyfriend, Y/N was able to settle some of her nerves. She could do this. 

“I love you so much, Freddie.” 

“I love you more.” 

–

“Mum, this is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N Malfoy.” 

Y/N knew that to have raised seven children and look great doing it, Molly Weasley had to have been some sort of super hero. What she didn’t know, and what she wasn’t prepared for, was how tightly the Weasley matriarch hugged and how gently she dragged her hand up and down backs as she was doing so. 

It nearly made Y/N cry. 

“Oh I am so happy to meet you dear,” gushed Molly once she eased away from the hug. 

“Me too, Mrs. Weasley,” Y/N smiled, “Fred’s been keeping me from you and your wonderful cooking for much too long.” 

“Please dear, call me Molly.” 

Before she could respond, Y/N was ushered into the kitchen where all of the food was waiting for her under a few well placed preservation charms. Y/N turned to look back at where Fred was standing, and he had a smug smile on his face. 

“Told you so,” he mouthed at her. 

–

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[bubblybubbubs]

4 times Draco showed his love and one time he said it.

requested by anon !

Draco x Reader

taglist - @chaoticgirl04​

summary : Basically events that show Draco’s love language

warning - not completely edited.

an- these are spread out between the years and not in chronological order btw. also please send in more requests I’ve been feeling inspired lately.

“I’m so exhausted.” You huffed as you laid next to Draco on the floor trying to work on your potions essay.

You were convinced that Snape was giving you so much work to torture you.

“Then go to sleep.” Draco said as he worked on his homework next to you.

You almost laughed, it was easy for him Snape seemed to like him and Snape liked no one.

“I need to do good on this essay.”

“When’s it due?” He asked still not looking up. 

“Tomorrow.” You sighed.

“Take a nap it’ll help you think.”

You were going to retaliate and get back to work but Draco picked you up and placed you on the bed which you easily sunk into.

“Fine make sure you wake me up in an hour.” You drawled before turning on your side.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep but you were asleep for far longer than you expected to be.

You woke up and jolted up right when you saw the sunlight pouring in from the windows.

“DRACO YOU DIDN'T WAKE ME.” You said shaking him awake.

“Calm down woman, I did it for you.” He huffed in a drowsy voice still half asleep.

Sure enough right next to you on the night stand was 4 feet of parchment rolled up on a scroll. You didn’t need to check the scroll to know that it was perfect.

You turned to thank him but he was already asleep. You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before running off to your own dorm.

Draco wasn’t actually asleep he smiled rubbing the spot where you kissed him and reached for the homework that he put aside in  order to do yours.

-

“Ready to lose Malfoy?” You said as you adjusted your quidditch uniform.

“Please, Slytherin is going to win.” Draco said.

“I’ll have you know our team is amazing, and we have an amazing chaser .”

“Well my team has a great seeker.” He drawled smirking. “Probably better than your chaser.”

“I hope you feel the same way when y/h wins.” You taunted.

“I’m not worried.”

“Well you should be.” You laughed before kissing a kiss to his lips. “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

“We’ll see about that.” He chuckled.

Quidditch was exhilarating and you were so busy trying to get the quaffle through the hoops you didn’t notice Adrian Pucey flying at you full speed.

You fell right off your broom. The moment you hit the ground you knew you had broken something and you groaned in pain.

Your team kept playing above you, it was quidditch after all injuries happened. You spotted Draco chasing after the snitch neck in neck with your seeker. He seemed to see you and he immediately flew towards you leaving the other seeker to follow the snitch on their own.

“What happened.” He asked kneeling next to you.

“That prat Pucey pushed me off my broom.” You groaned.

“Malfoy get back to the game I can take Ms.Y/l/n from here.” Madam Pomfrey said as she ran up to you.

Draco didn’t move as he knelt next to you, you were about to tell him to go when Lee announced that Y/h had caught the snitch.

“Did you lose because of me?” You asked feeling sorry.

“It’s just a quidditch game.” He said smiling at you.

Draco’s teammates flew down, no doubt to yell at him.

“Sorry.” You said.

“It’s fine, I can handle them. I’ll meet you at the hospital wing.” He said before walking towards his team.

You fell asleep as soon as Madam Pomfrey gave you that healing potion to mend your broken bones.

You woke with a groan, the room was pitch black except for a small candle next to you.

“Draco?” You asked taking in the blonde boy who was half a sleep in a chair next to your bed.

“Oh good you’re awake.” Draco said stretching. 

“How long was I out.”

“Two days.” He said.

“You were here for two days?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I came and went.” He said. “I’ll be back, I’m going to get Madam Pomfrey and tell her you woke up.

Madam Pomfrey walked in with a sour look on her face Draco in tow behind her.

“Of Course you pick to wake up at the middle of the night.” She huffed. “And you, didn’t I tell you to go back to your common room.”

“I did.” Draco said. “I just came to see if she was up yet and she woke up.”

“Of Course.” Madam Pomfrey snorted searching for a salve to give you.

“Malfoy get a bandage from my cupboard will you, might as well be helpful while you’re here.” She said and Draco obliged.

“The boy is lying, he hasn’t budged all weekend, I basically had to push him out the door to get him to go to meals.” She chuckled as she treated your bones.

You grinned at that and you felt your face burn up.

“Here is the bandage.” Draco said handing her the wraps.

Madam Pomfrey worked quickly.

“All good to go. Mister Malfoy I expect you’ll escort Miss Y/l/n to her Common Room?” She said.

Draco nodded as he helped you get out of the bed, still a bit sore.

“Thank you Madam Pomfrey.”

As you walked out of the Hospital Wing you noticed Adrian Pucey sleeping on one of the beds with a rather awful looking black eye. You almost felt a bit bad but the pain that you felt almost everywhere pushed those feelings away. You pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek.

“What was that for.” Draco said with a faint smile.

“Nothing in particular.” You hummed.

-

“I hate Granger.” You huffed as you sat across from Draco.

“Oh? Why’s that.” Draco asked looking up from his breakfast.

“I want to be the best at one class, just one class that’s all I’m asking but no she beats in me in every class.” You huffed. “Even divination! and Trelawney doesn’t even like her.”

“Granger is annoying but you have to admit she has her wits.” Draco said mindlessly.

Y/n glared at him.

“Sorry, she’s and idiot.” He quickly corrected himself. 

“I studied all night for this Transfiguration exam and she still got better marks than me.” 

“You could obliviate her, make her forget everything she’s ever learned.” Draco suggested.

“I don’t think that would work.” You said quirking up your brow.

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged.

“Funny.” You sighed. “Guess I’ll have to conform with being the second best.”

“MIght have to conform with third because if I’m correct I have higher marks than you in Potions and Longbottom is beating you in Herbology.” He said sarcastically.

“Wow, You’re so kind to me.” You said sarcastically.

You felt like you were sweating from the stress. In all you years you had never been so stressed over a test especially in Charms which was supposed to be your strong suit.

Sure enough Hermoine was just flying through the test. She was about to flip to the next page when she threw her pen on the ground.

“Ms.Granger is there a problem?” Flitwick said.

“My answers keep changing, I think this quill has been tampered with.” She said shaking her head.

“I think you’re going to have to start over Ms.Granger, here I’ll give you a new quill.” Flitwick said.

Hermoine let out a defeated sigh. That alone gave you enough motivation to finish the test.

“Draco did you tamper with Hermoine’s quill?”

"I haven’t but thanks for the idea.” He said.

“So you’re telling me you didn’t make Hermoine’s quill change answers.”

“Nope.” He said. “I’ve got to go to quidditch, see you later.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek before running off.

You didn’t miss the quill sticking out of his robe that was identical to Hermoine’s.

-

Amycus Carrow stood in front of the class walking back and forth.

“Today we will be practicing the Cruciatus Curse.” She drawled. “You’re all familiar with this one, correct?”

Everyone nodded.

“Y/l/n, Malfoy get up here.”

You gulped shakedly walking up.

“Mister Malfoy, practice on Y/l/n.” She said smiling.

You tried to show him that it was fine by smiling at him but he didn’t stop shaking.

“No.” He said. 

“What.” Amycus snapped. Draco hadn't been one of the students to defy her orders.

“I said no.” Draco huffed. “I won’t take orders from a halfblood.”

You wanted to yell at Draco, how daft was he. Now Amycus was going to hurt him.

“Very well if you wont, I will.” Amycus snapped his wand at you.

“CRUCIO.” You felt your skin burn and fell to the ground with screams.

You heard someone yell but all you could hear were your own screams.

You fell over once the pain stopped.

Your vision was blurry and you didn’t see that Draco had hexed Amycus.

He pulled you into his arms as the class just stood in shock.

“No one says a thing or you’ll end up like Amycus.” He said to the class as he obliviated Amycus’ mind. “I’m taking her to Pomfrey, not that it’s anyone’s business.”

“Draco why would you do that, he could’ve hurt you.” You groaned.

“Hush, don’t move it’ll only make the pain worse.” He said holding you closer as he carried you to Pomfrey.

-

You laid in Draco’s arms as you both laid on his bed.

He was running his hands through your hair.

“I love you.” He said. “I don’t think i’ve told you that but I do, I have for along time i’m just not the best at expressing my feelings.”

“You show your love in your own way.” You hummed. “And I love you too.”

[my-unmanageable-mischief]

Love Triangle

For the Anon who requested : Can u write something like the james/lily/snape thingy but with harry/draco/reader where the reader ultimately ends up with harry?

When you were sorted into Gryffindor, you felt like your world had ended. You were going to disappoint your father, you were going to lose your best friend, Draco, and you weren’t going to be a lonely outcast. At 11 everything is the end of the world. However, you were lucky, unbelievably so. Your parents eventually came around, “At least we know she’s brave,” he had said. And while you spent the first few months of school without Draco, he had come around as well. You were still best mates, thicker than thieves. A shining example of inter-house friendships. Even if you did tease each other mercilessly. You even found friends and a home within Gryffindor. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had become your best friends- despite Draco’s protests. 

Years later, you were a 6th year now, one more year until you graduated, and you were content with everything you had in your life. But change was on the horizon. Draco wasn’t acting himself, and frankly, neither was Harry. You worried about both of them, worried for them. Draco had missed two of your Friday study sessions in a row, a tradition since you were 11. And Harry was so caught up in that book and his own head when you were with him, he wasn’t even there. 

You were sitting in the common room, Harry and Hermione were bickering about his potions book and Ron was sitting by the fire ignoring them. You were lost in thought. The mention of your inner thoughts brought you into the current conversation. 

“Draco is a death eater, I know it.” Harry barked at Hermione, who glanced quickly at you then back to Harry. 

“Harry…” She started but you cut her off. 

“No, he isn’t,” You snapped, and Harry’s gaze turned to you, souring. 

“Of course you’d say that,”

“Because he isn’t.” You held his gaze with your own, “You’re overreacting, a habit really.” 

“I saw him in Knockturn Alley this summer, Y/N, what respectable wizard goes there?” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“His father is one,” 

“And everyone is exactly like their father? You don’t know him.”

“And I don’t care to, how you're his friend I’ll never know,” He scoffed, and you continued to glare at him. 

“It’s cause he’s got a crush on her,” Ron added from the carpet below them. “She likes the attention,” 

“Ron!” Hermione snapped, and you turned your glare from Harry to him. 

“I like the attention?” He merely shrugged, looking away again. “I see. Fine. I’ll leave you lot to it then.” You gathered your books, shoving them into your satchel before huffing and storming towards the girl’s dorm. Hermione continued to glare at both boys. 

“Why would you say that?” She questioned, Ron shrugged again. “You two are impossible.” 

“You birds are always annoyed by something,” Ron shook his head. Hermione let out a huff similar to yours and followed your actions, gathering her own things. “Hey, what about helping me with charms?” Ron asked, Hermione, shook her head, still glaring. 

“Do it yourself.” She, too, stormed towards the girl’s stairs. The boys sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other. 

“You didn’t need to say that,” Harry finally mumbled, Ron sat up, looking at his friend. 

“It’s true, she likes the attention he gives her, it’s a girl thing.” 

“Maybe she likes it because she likes him,” Harry suggested and Ron made a face. 

“How could she?” Harry simply shrugged, looking down at the cover of his worn-out book. “You should tell her mate,” 

“Tell her what?”

“That you like her, and that you can give her attention.” 

“She doesn’t want that,” Harry stood up as well, grabbing his bag, “I’m going to bed.” Ron hopped up as well.

“Yeah, I’ll come too.” 

In the girl’s room, you and Hermione sat on her bed, both steaming. Hermione sat up straight, ranting, her hands flying a mile a minute, as you lounged back against her pillows, arms crossed, head nodding in agreement. 

“They’re both terrible! I don’t get it, Harry, with his book, and his head up his arse, doesn’t even see what is really going on around him, he just talks, he’s clueless! And Ron, don’t get my started on Ron, he’s a thick-headed git, he-”

“I’d hate to see you started.” You joked smirking slightly and Hermione chuckled, dropping her hands. 

“I’m sorry they were being rotten to you,” You shrugged, playing with the hem of her duvet. 

“Draco isn’t a death eater, I’d know.” You murmured and Hermione nodded. “He isn’t, Harry just hates him for no reason,” 

“They hate each other,” She corrected gently, “It’s mutual, they always have. Harry is... jealous.” 

“Jealous?” You laughed, rolling your eyes, “What do you mean?” 

“Draco does like you-”

“Hermione not this again,” 

“Come on it’s obvious.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes, “He’s always loved you,” 

“Okay? So? Maybe? But why on earth should Harry care about who does and does not have a thing for me?” You questioned and Hermione looked at you pointedly. “No,” You shook your head wildly, “Hermione, no,” 

“He likes you,”

“No, he does not,”

“Y/N, come on,”

“Hermione! You come on!” She nudged you gently, and you slumped down further into her pillows, “Come on, you’re taking the piss,” 

“I’m not.” She looked at you seriously, “He likes you, and he knows Draco does too, and he doesn’t like it.” 

“Why not, I don’t know, talk to me about it?” 

“They’re boys,” You both chuckled at that, then there was silence for a moment as you processed it. 

“Really?”

“Really.” 

“I didn’t think you were coming.” You looked up at your friend as he approached your usual table in the library. He looked down at his hands as he sat, he felt guilty. Good. “You’ve stood me up three weeks in a row. I almost didn’t come myself.” 

“I’m sorry,” He sighed, looking up at you, “I really am,” You nodded, reaching over to put a hand on his arm, to which he flinched. You retracted your hand. 

“Draco, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” You looked at him pointedly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugged, “Nothing,”

“That might work on someone else, but I know you a bit too well to buy that, talk to me,” You prodded, and he sighed. 

“You wouldn’t understand.” You nodded, placing your hands flat on the table in front of you, looking there instead of at him. 

“Are you upset with me?”

“What? No, of course not.” You nodded again, shrugging. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” 

“I’m sorry,”

“You mentioned,” You glanced up at him, trying to catch his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at you either. 

“I’m just stressed with school and stuff,” 

“Stuff?”

“I can’t talk about it, Y/N,”

“Can’t or won’t?” You questioned him, and he finally looked up, his grey eyes were dark and heavy, and he looked more serious than you had ever seen him. 

“Can’t.” You nodded, holding his gaze.

“Okay,” it came out in a whisper, and it felt appropriate somehow. “I’ve missed you,” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he reached over to grab your arm this time, squeezing.

“I always miss you, trust me, I think about you constantly.” You thought back to your conversation a few nights before with Hermione and your cheeks began to heat up. Draco tilted his head, catching it immediately, “What?” 

“Nothing,” It was your turn to be invasive. Draco frowned, squeezing your arm again.

“Is that so?” You didn’t answer, you looked down at where his hand was on your arm, swallowing thickly. “Y/N?”

“Do you like me?” You asked, suddenly, looking up at the boy who was turning into a man before your eyes. Sometimes you still saw him, 8 years old, and so carefree. Those were different times. You watched him, his own thick swallow, his eyes looking around, his cheeks slightly rosy. He did. But would he tell you? 

“Why?” He questioned you back, and you smirked slightly. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“What if it is,” He removed his hand, scratching the back of his head nervously. You paused. What if?

“I don’t know,” He nodded, face closing off, you frowned, reaching for him. “I don’t know, Draco, but it’s not bad. Okay?” He glanced up, smiling slightly. 

“Whatever you say.” 

You couldn’t see through your tears, you were furious. You entered the common room like a storm, looking around wildly. Where was he? You didn’t see him, so you stormed up the boy’s staircase and into the boy’s assigned room. 

“What the fuck did you do,” You yelled, coming into the room and stopping in front of the boy, “What did you do!” You came up to him, pointing a finger at him, shoving it against his chest, he had the decency to look scared. 

“Y/N,” Ron got up off his bed, trying to sound soothing, but you were too mad. 

“He’s in the hospital wing half dead because of you!” You yelled, and Harry stood up, taking a step towards you, so you were in each other’s faces. 

“Does it matter that he attacked me first?!” He asked his own voice raising. 

“Guys,” Ron interjected. “Please,” 

“Shut up,” You both yelled. 

“You could have killed him!”

“Why are you protecting him, Y/N, he’s a death eater!” You pushed your hand into his chest and he grabbed it, pulling you closer, “Maybe you’re one too,” You shoved at him, backing away. 

“You’re insane, you’re... you’re... the worst!” You couldn’t even formulate words right now you were so angry. “Never speak to me again!”

“My pleasure!” You stormed from the room as quickly as you had come in, going back towards the hospital wing. Harry continued to seethe, and Ron watched him, worried. 

“Mate?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

A month went by with little to no communication between you and Harry, and it hurt you more than you would like to admit. You could see he was struggling, and you wanted to be able to go to him, to ask him what was wrong. But you were still so mad. Hermione came to you one morning, looking worried, she grabbed you from the common room and took you to somewhere you could talk privately. 

“I need you to talk to Harry,” You opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off continuing, “Please, whatever differences you have, you need to. He won’t listen to anyone else.” 

“Hermione? What’s going on?” You were worried now, watching her in panic. 

“He’s going... somewhere with Dumbledore, somewhere dangerous, he won’t talk about it, but it’s something to do with You Know Who,” You nodded, glancing around to make sure you were still alone. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell him not to!” She cried, grabbing at the front of your robes, “Please, I have a bad feeling, he won’t even talk to Ron about it.” You nodded, placing your hands over her hands and squeezing. 

“Where is he?” 

“Harry?” You knocked on the slightly ajar door of an empty classroom before letting yourself in, closing the door behind you. 

“I thought we were never speaking again,” He didn’t even look up, you shrugged, coming to sit on a desk a few away from him. 

“Ron and Hermione are worried about you,” He scoffed, looking out one of the large classroom windows.

“And why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend, even when I’m upset with you, and I care about you.” You answered honestly. “Because I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He shrugged this time, before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m fine,”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He snapped. You were quiet for a moment, before getting up to move closer to the boy.

“Talk to me, please,” He tensed slightly, and you could tell he was trying not to look at you, “Where are you going with Dumbledore?” 

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, Harry, it does.” You touched his arm gently, trying to get him to look at you, “Please.” 

“We’re going to destroy a Horcrux.” He finally whispered, “It’s... a piece of Voldemort, he can’t die until we destroy them all. That’s the short version.” You nodded, squeezing his arm. Finally, he glanced over at you, “and you’re not going to talk me out of it,” You smiled sadly. 

“I didn’t think I could.” He returned the small smile.

“You’ve always known me best,” You smiled more, tilting your head. 

“It’s my job.” He chuckled slightly, “When do you go?” 

“Tonight.” You nodded, before removing your hand from his arm and wrapping them both around him in a tight hug. It took a moment, but he returned it, holding you close. 

“I’m sorry,”

“For?”

“Everything mean I’ve ever said to you,” You chuckled, resting your chin on his shoulder as you embraced. 

“I forgive you,” You assured him, squeezing him tighter, “Just please be safe, I want you back here in one piece, you hear me?” He nodded and released you finally. 

“Y/N...” 

“Hmm?” You asked, looking at him as his hands remained on each of your arms. They went from your biceps down, before eventually, he was clasping both of your hands in his. 

“You mean the world to me, you know that right?” You smiled softly, meeting his eye. 

“I do now,” You joked, and he laughed softly.

“I know you like Draco-”

“I... don’t.” You assured. You had tried to, really tried. He was your best friend, your soulmate even, but it was not meant to be romantic. Not in this life. Harry paused at that, and you watched him, watched him lean in before placing a soft kiss on your cheek, when he pulled back he was blushing deeply. You smiled and squeezed his hands before leaning in yourself to place a small kiss on his lips, “Just come back, okay?” 

The castle was finally quiet, after hours of chaos. Dumbledore was dead. Rumors flew on who killed him; Draco Malfoy. Your head spun, your stomach lurched. You didn’t want to believe it. 

“Y/N?” Hermione whispered, her hand finding your hand, “Are your parents coming to get you?” You shook your head, you wanted to cry, but you couldn’t. Ron stood on her other side, and Harry was a few feet away from you. Everyone wore blank faces. Death eaters in Hogwarts. Nowhere was safe. Dumbledore was dead. No one was safe. 

“No, they’re in Italy.” You spoke but it didn’t sound like yourself. You didn’t want to see them right now anyway. 

“Come to the Burrow,” Ron offered easily, “Mum and Dad won’t mind,” You nodded, not really hearing him. You were looking at Harry. 

“I’ll be right back,” You walked away from them without looking at them, going to stand beside the boy. You both stood in silence for a few moments before you choked back a sob, and he looked down at you.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, unable to look at him, as you were wrecked with guilt, “I’m so so sorry, I-”

“For what?” He asked, turning to face you, hands going to your shoulders. 

“I didn’t believe you, and you were right,” You cried, and Harry pulled you into a tight embrace. 

“It isn’t your fault,” He assured you, and you clung to him, continuing to cry into his chest. 

“He was my friend, I didn’t think... I never thought...” Harry nodded, smoothing your hair back, shushing you gently. 

“It’s alright, I know, I’m sorry.” You continued to hug for a few moments as you cried it out, Harry rubbing your back through it all, “It’ll be okay, we’re gonna be okay.”

[pink-imagines]

star city

request: may I request a todoroki x fem!reader where shes a volunteer or sum for the hospital where deku, iida, and Todo are at after the fight with stain, and one night she's tasked with bringing them dinner but midoriya and iida are already asleep and for todoboi it's kinda love at first sight? 🥺🥺 if not it's totally fine! thanks!

a/n: hope this is okay! i kind of like how it turned out but i rushed it too much!!

warnings: mentions of scars

masterlist

requesting rules

When you walked into the room you had to keep yourself from screaming. There were UA students in the hospital room! More importantly, students who had gotten amazing scores at the tournament! You looked at the room number, to make sure that you were actually in the right room - which you were.  You had no idea what had happened to them, only that they were severly injured and that you were supposed to bring them food. But when you walked in you saw that thy were all sleeping soundly in their beds. The curtains were open, showing the skyline and the many lights that were still on in the city. They kind of resembled the stars that you couldn’t see in Tokyo, because of the pollution, and you smiled to yourself. You looked back at the boys and thn at the window again. They probably don’t want the sun to wake them up tomorrow... so you decided to close the curtains as quietly as you could. When you turned around you faced the boy with the split dyed hair. Todoroki Shoto, Endeavour’s youngest son. If you remembered correctly he had gotten second place in the tournament... but that’s not what intrigued you the most about him. It was probably because of the fight he had with the green haired boy laying in the bed next to him that made you look up to him as you did. Of course you didn’t know why he had never used the fire part of his quirk, but you could tell it was a big deal to him when he finally did.

You looked up at the boy’s face, at the scar. To think that someone around the same age as you could already be scarred so deeply, not only physically. He scrunched his nose slightly as a few strands of hair had fallen into his eyes. Without thinking you reached your hand up to his face and brushed his hair away from his forehead, making sure to not touch the scar incase it was sensitive. Suddenly his eyes fluttered open at your soft touch and you were about to pull your hand away but his grabbed your wrist. You looked at the big difference between his big rough hands and your small, slightly shaky, hands. He just stared at you without saying a word which only made you more flustered than you already were. “Sorry, I was just trying to brush the hair out of your eyes. I didn’t mean to wake you up...”, you stammered out. “I wasn’t asleep.”, he said, still not letting go of your wrist, “... you’re not the nurse we saw earlier.” “No, I’m just an intern... I came to give you food but it seems like everyone’s asleep.”, you looked at the other two. He let go of your wrist and looked around for a bit, as if he were thinking about what to say next. It was cute to see that such a powerful person would be hesitant about what to say to you. “I could eat.”, he looked at you again. You hummed and nodded, and with quick steps you brought him his food. When he started eating you made your way to the door, expecting he wanted some privacy. “Could you-”, he stopped you with his voice, “Could you sit with me for a while?” In shock, you looked over at him -  his face was red and you tried your best to hold in your laughter.  “Yeah, sure.”, you nodded and smiled at him reassuringly.

You brought a chair over to his bed and sat down next to him. Surprisingly he looked more peaceful now than when he was asleep, but you assumed that was because he was only pretending. “I saw you at the tournament.”, you said quietly as you fidgetted with your fingers, “You’re Todoroki, right?” “Shoto.”, he corrected. “Shoto...”, you said, feeling weird to call someone by their first name when you had just met them, “... you did amazing, either way.” “Thank you.”, he said and kept his focus on the food, making it clear for you that you’d have to keep the conversation going unless you wanted to sit in awkward silence. “I go to UA too.”, you said, “Not the hero course, but still.” “The hero course isn’t the only good thing at UA.”, he said and finally looked at you, “And you seem to be doing good things, so that’s all that counts.” “I guess you’re right.”, you nodded. He looked over at the window, which was now covered by the curtains. “Why did you close the curtains?”, he asked and turned back his focus to his food. “The sun comes up there, I didn’t want it to wake you up.”, you said and he hummed in response, “Why? Do you want me to open them?” “If you could.”, he shrugged, “It feels kind of like we’re trapped in here without being able to see the outside.” You winced slightly, not that he noticed, at the fact that you had done something wrong. So you quickly opened the curtains again and watched him as he looked in awe at the city lights. “It’s sad that we can’t see any stars.”, the two of you said at the same time. You looked at one another with burning hot cheeks and then looked away again. “... thank you for the food.”, he murmured as you took the empty tray from him. “No problem.”, you smiled at him and put the tray away. “I never got your name.”, he said suddenly. “Y/L/N Y/N.”, you said but then remembered that you got to call him by his first name, “I guess you can call me Y/N.” “Alright, Y/N.”, he said calmly and looked out of the window again. You shouldn’t do it... you really shouldn’t... but he looked like a bird trapped in a cage, just waiting to get to spread his wings again. Nobody should be here around now... “Do you want to go up to the roof?”, you asked quietly. “We can do that?”, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Your heart skipped a beat as he said “we”, instead of “I” or “you”. “Yeah.”, you showed him your badge which brought you access to most of the doors in the hospital, “Only for a short time, though.”

The two of you snuck around the hospital corridors until you found the staircase that lead to the roof. “I like to go here during my breaks.”, you said in a hushed voice as you unlocked the door to the staircase, “You can see the city a lot better than from your window.” Shoto hummed in response, making you break into a smile which you quickly hid by looking away from him. He wasn’t very talkative but his ways of showing that he was listening to you when you spoke had to be the cutest things you’ve ever heard. You never thought that someone who looked so serious in a battle, and had the background that he had, would be acting in a way that sent butterflies to your stomach. “Let’s go.”, you said and started walking up the stairs, but quickly noticed he had some trouble with it, “Does it hurt? Should I help you?” “I think I can handle it-”, he tripped back but you quickly grabbed his arm. “You have to be careful...”, you scolded him with a sigh, “... c’mon, let me help you up to your feet.” He looked at you with big eyes, as if he had never recieved help before. You held onto one of his arms as he grabbed the rail to stabalize himself. “We shouldn’t go up if it’s gonna hurt you.”, you said quietly, “I’m sorry, this was a really dumb idea...” “No.”, he muttered, “It’ll be fine just... just keep your hand there.” If you weren’t completely delusional you could see his ears had a red tint to them. Though you weren’t sure if he was really flustered since he had turned his head away from you. Either way, you had your right arm wrapped around his and your left hand supporting his back. You were trying your hardest to not think about the way his back muscles moved under your hand, even if he was wearing a hoodie on top of his hospital gown. Those kind of thoughts would’ve been very unproffessional... then again what you were doing right now was also very unproffessional... you didn’t have much time to think about it as you were already up the stairs. “There you go.”, you patted him on the back and immediately cringed at your action. You had gotten so used to helping the older patients in the hospital that you had forgotten how to function like a normal human being. He chuckled at your exclamation which only made you more flustered. “You’re not hurting are you? We can go back if you want to.”, you let go of his arm. “I’m fine, let’s go outside.”, he smiled gently at you. His smile made you feel something you don’t think you had felt before. Shoto didn’t seem to smile a lot so you felt a certain way once he finally did. You opened the door with your keycard and stepped outside in the chilly autumn night air, holding the door open for him to walk through. He took a deep breath of fresh air, well as fresh as it could get in the city. Honking horns and carwheels against the asfalt sounded even louder now that you were outside. “This is nice...”, he commented quietly, you almost didn’t catch it. “You can’t see any stars but it’s still pretty.”, you said, “... and the lights in alll of those windows kind of looks like stars.” You didn’t know why you were able to speak so freely with him but it all came so natural with Shoto. Once again he hummed at your statement, with probably the most serious face you had ever seen. You looked at his face, as if you’d never see it again up close. His eyes were looking around the rooftop and his lips were rosy... why were you staring at his lips? You quickly looked away and Shoto started walking towards the edge of the building. You walked with him, your eyes falling to your hands which you were fiddling with.  “It’s pretty.”, he nodded, “Thank you for bringing me here. It was getting pretty crowded in that room.” “No problem.”, you smiled, “I guess you won’t get to go up here for the rest of your stay...” “... why not?”, he tore his eyes away from the view to look at you. “I’m going back to school tomorrow.”, you said and looked up at him, “Maybe I’ll see you there, but I’m sure you’re busy so-” “No I’m not.”, he said, almost too quickly. “Oh, well then we can see each other maybe?”, you asked slowly, “Only if you want to, of course...” “I’d like that.”, he nodded and looked back at the view, but you noticed him sneaking glances in the corner of his eyes. “Great.”, you smiled to yourself and looked out to the city, “You know, I’ve only just met you but it feels different with you.” You crouched down and moved a bit closer to the edge of the building. Usually you’d never go close to the edge of a building without a railing but you felt surprisingly safe. “Different how?”, you felt his eyes on you as your breath created a white cloud when it left your mouth. “I don’t know...”, you looked up at him and met his eyes, “Guess I’ll have to find out.” Your eyes closed as you smiled, so you never got to see the way his eyes lit up - and it was way too dark to see his reddened cheeks. He hummed again and you let out a chuckle as you looked back to the city. You sat down with your legs crossed on the cold ground and patted next to you for him to sit down, which he did. “You haven’t asked about my life...”, he said suddenly. “Hm? What do you mean?”, you looked over at him. “You know... about my father, my quirk, my...”, he motioned around his scar, “... this. Usually people ask about that sort of stuff after a while...” “They do?”, you furrowed your eyebrows together, “Isn’t that kind of rude?” “It’s not like they care.”, he scoffed. God... you loved the way he smiled, even if it was in this context. You’d probably be just as deligthed every single time the corners of his mouth lifted up. “... they should care.”, you said and peeled your eyes away from his lips to look him in the eyes, “You’re a human being afterall, you care.” You felt like you were stating the obvious, and maybe he’d look at you with eyes that said “yeah, I know that”, but his smile didn’t falter. Something got stuck in your throat and you so badly wanted to scream it out.  “I guess you’re right.”, he nodded and looked at you with a certain look in his eyes which you couldn’t pin point, but you knew you liked it, “You’re good with words.” “You think?”, you blurted out with a laugh. “Better than me.”, he looked out to the city, smile still on his lips. He had been smiling for a while now, usually it faded with time but you were glad that it didn’t this time. “You don’t have to be good with words, you’ll probably become one of the top heroes in Japan.”, you said quietly. “Yeah... but that’s all I’m good at.”, his smile turned into a melancholy one and your heart stung at the site. “... you were pretty good at making me feel less stressed tonight, you know?”, you said, “I think that’s a talent... being able to make people happy with your presence.” He looked over at you, giving you that look you couldn’t figure out again, and tilted his head slightly to the side. “You’re being really nice to me.”, he muttered, “... thanks.” “I’m just returning the favor.”, you chuckled and looked down at your hands, “We should get you back to your room now, though...”

The next day you didn’t have to wake up extremely early to get to work, that was your last day. Even though you had only talked with Shoto for one day he filled your brain to the brim. You couldn’t even focus on your breakfast. And the next day at school was even worse... in fact school was horrible, knowing that you can one day bump into him. You should’ve asked for his number...

The days passed, and after a week you saw him in the hallways. You were about to take another route to your classroom, as you felt very unprepared to talk to him, but he had already spotted you. His eyebrows raised slightly and a small smile formed on his lips. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, jealous and surprised, as he walked up to you. “Hi.”, he said quietly. “Hey...”, you returned his small smile, “... you’re feeling all better, I hope?” “Yeah, I’m fine.”, he nodded, “I forgot to give you my number so... here.” He gave you a note with his number on it and you looked at it with big eyes. The fact that people’s eyes were burning holes into your skin didn’t help your flustered face. “I was just about to hand it to your classmate, actually.”, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, “You’re surprisingly hard to find.” “You’ve been looking for me?”, you asked. “Just for a few days.”, he shrugged. “Oh... I’m sorry for not trying to find you.” “Why are you apologising?”, he chuckled, “I have to go... but make sure to put my number in your phone and um... text me?” “For sure.”, you nodded a bit too enthusiastically than you wanted, “... and um... make sure to take care of yourself, Shoto.” “Of course, now I don’t have a reason to go to the hospital afterall.”, he smiled and started walking away, “I’ll see you soon.”

- 

permanent taglist: @theoceanphoenixhasrisen | @raven-r0ses | @darkbeautyswife | @sondering-thoughts | @gowoneandonlyone | @bnhabadass | @queenblackcat | @jayetheanimefreek101 | @witchy-anna | @cutest-celestial-princess | @missymysa | @karebear5118 | @weebartistinc | @crystal-lilac |

[padfootagain]

Infuriating

Here we go for a new fic for my 4.7k event!! Answering the request made by @inkhearthes​ for Sirius using the following prompt (they are written in italics in the fic):

9. "Does it hurt?"

"Not that... OUCH!"

10. "I can't believe you got punched in the face."

"For you. I got punched in the face for you."

11. "It's dark, and it's late, and I'm cold and I'm drenched with this freaking rain and yet all I can think about is that I love you."

34. "Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles!"

It's fluffy. A tiny bit angsty, maybe? I'm not sure, I think it's pretty fluffy.

Anyway, I hope you like it!!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count : 3683

Of course, you had to be duelling against Sirius fucking Black.

Of course, out of all the students in seventh year with you, you had to be paired with the one you hated the most.

You found him absolutely infuriating. 1000% infuriating. The most annoying person on the surface of the Earth, you reckoned.

You had been facing him for five seconds and you were already so mad at his stupid long dark hair, and his bloody cute chin, and his stormy grey eyes that didn't seem to have an end, and those stupid lips you dreamt about kissing…

Argh! Really, he was insufferable!

And why did he even pick you? You knew the reason, of course, it was just to allow his idiotic best friend to try and seduce your idiotic best friend… as if Lily wasn't already just as head over heels for James than he was for her…

And so, you found yourself paired with Sirius fucking Black, of all people, and you wanted to slap this smirk of his away, or maybe kiss it, you weren't 100% sure yet.

Because, of course, you got along perfectly well with Sirius. You were both playful and full of banter, and he was charming despite being an idiot sometimes, and he was smart too, and talented, and very very sweet, and a little dangerous maybe and…

… and you had a crush on him.

Huge, HUGE crush on him, and that was bad. Very bad. Terrible. Especially because the crush you had wasn't really a crush and more like love.

So, you were mad at him. So mad at him for making you fall for him when you never even intended to befriend him in the first place, let alone love him. And yet, there you were. All this because he was just an absolute sweetheart with a stupid sense of humour and a heart of gold despite all the pain he had been through during his childhood, and had cheekbones to die for.

Of course, how could you resist him?

So now, there you were, about to duel you friend, aka crush, aka potential love of your life, and he was acting so smug about it you heaved a defeated sigh.

Both of you knew that you were better at duelling than he was, and you would soon kick his pretty arse, but you almost felt bad for it. You had your bloody, irrational heart to blame for it all.

Your teacher was gone for just a few minutes to fetch something - you were too focused on watching Sirius laugh at that moment to listen to your professor about what he was leaving the room for.

All you knew was that there was no teacher in the room, which quickly turned into some nasty argument between a few students behind you.

Why was your name even brought up in the first place, you had no idea. All you knew was that before you could understand what was really going on, one of the Ravenclaw boys you had rejected a couple of weeks before was shooting nasty comments at you.

But when the word slut rang through the room, the whole situation got out of hands.

"Hey, Trevor, why don't you shut it!" Sirius snapped before you could have time to reply on your own.

"Sorry, Black, What were you saying? Were you talking to me?"

"I told you to shut your stupid mouth! How dare you talk about her like that? Especially you, Trevor, considering that you have the brain of a mandrake: all you can do is whine all day long."

"Say that again to my face, just to see, Black!"

"Oh, but with pleasure…"

"Sirius!" you tried to hold him back as he strode across the room, meeting Trevor halfway, standing chest against chest and taunting each other to hit first.

James and Remus had taken a step towards the boys too, ready to defend their friend if need be.

You walked over the two of them and pulled at Sirius's sleeve.

"Sirius, please. He's not worth it."

"Yes, Black, listen to your girlfriend… oh wait, you ain't together. Yeah, I bet she rejected your sorry arse."

"Coming from you, who can only insult every girl who refuses a date, I find the blow particularly ironic."

"Don't worry though, I bet she's not a good enough shag anyway. Probably aren't worth the trouble…"

"Say one more word and I'll turn you into a toad," Sirius warned the Ravenclaw, grabbing him by the collar of his robes.

He was so blinded by his rage towards the boy that he didn't see anything else in the room.

How could he dare speak of you like this? You of all people? You, who were a literal ray of sunshine, and so incredibly talented, and bright, and kind, and smart, and hilarious, and he was head over heels for you. Sirius was ready to lose his mind with how much he loved you. Had for years. Had since that night in third year where he had caught you making a trip to the kitchens at midnight and had ended up sharing his snacks with you. Since that moment that you had laughed so much you had ended up chocking on your pudding. Since that night when, for the first time, you talked through the whole night. Since that early morning when you had cried when he had told you about how his family treated him. Since the second you had wrapped your arms around him and promised him that if he needed help, he just had to call you, and you would protect him.

And now hearing some idiotic ghoul insult you was making his blood boil so much that he wasn't able to notice anything happening around him, including Trevor's fist flying across the air to land on his cheekbone and make a clear cut through his skin.

Sirius was hitting the floor before he could understand what had happened, and his body had barely hit the ground that you and the rest of the Marauders were pointing your wands towards the Ravenclaw and his friends.

You were interrupted by the sound of footsteps of your professor coming back, though.

"Y/N, get Sirius to the hospital wing," James instructed, but his friend was already back on his feet, shaking his head.

"I'm fine, Prongs. 'S just a scratch."

"You're bleeding," you argued, but he shot you a grin as an answer.

"You should still go," Remus jumped in. "Or we might all end up in detention."

You grabbed Sirius's hand.

"Come on, you idiot."

"Hey!"

But you ignored his protest and dragged him into the corridor and away from the class, heading for the Hospital Wing.

"Now, I'm not sure that if we truly want to avoid detention, going straight to Mrs. Pomfrey would be the cleverest idea," Sirius argued. "Besides, it's nothing."

You had to agree with him on that, going to Mrs. Pomfrey would get both of you in detention. It was pretty obvious by the look of Sirius's cheekbone, bloody and slowly turning from pinkish to purple, that he had been punched.

"I think I can patch you up," you offered, taking a closer look at his bruising face.

"Perfect. Let's go to my dorm then. We won't be disturbed there."

You accepted with a nod, and followed him all the way to the Gryffindor tower and to his dormitory. And the more you walked across the castle, the angrier you were. Sirius was hurt, and it was because of you. You wanted to go back and turn Trevor into a lizard. You wanted to punch him too.

And what was Sirius thinking? Acting so recklessly?

The wound colouring his cheekbone wasn't serious, but it still needed to be cleaned, so he reached for the bandages and bottles of disinfectants that the boys kept for their monthly trip to the whomping willow, just in case.

It's only when he let himself plop onto his bed with a sigh that Sirius noticed that you were glaring at him.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

And Merlin, did he annoy you… what was wrong? He was bleeding!

"I can't believe you got punched in the face." You shook your head.

"For you. I got punched in the face for you," Sirius corrected you, waving his finger at you pointedly, a smug smile on his face. "I reckon that you owe me one!"

"Why by Agrippa's name would you do that?" you asked, ignoring his stupid remark.

Because you weren't in the mood for his stupid charm, and his insufferable smug smiles, and his silly humour, and the way he always hid his pain behind wits. You weren't in the mood for any of that, you weren't in the mood for the way he always tried to look tougher than he was, because for so long no one had showed him any other way to deal with his emotions, except by bottling them all up in his chest. And you were tired of his tough act, and all you wanted to do now was shake some sense into his head and make him realize that someone had just hit him, and for what?! Because Trevor had insulted you?! That was most definitely not enough of a reason to get punched in the face.

But he looked at you with a curious frown, as if he didn't understand why you asked that question, as if the answer was obvious.

"He… He was making fun of you. He was insulting you. So, I defended you."

"I didn't ask you to."

"We're friends, you don't have to ask me to. I'll be there whenever you need me."

"Who says I needed you back there?"

He didn't answer, studying your expression with an unreadable look across his features.

Why were you mad?

You didn't say anything more, and reached for a clean clothe instead.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not that... OUCH!"

Sirius bucked away as you harshly pressed the piece of fabric against his wounded cheek.

"Now, don't be a baby," you mumbled under your breath, a deep frown adorning your brow.

"I'm not being a baby! You're the one being as delicate as a cave troll! Besides… what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What?"

"What is wrong with you? Why are you mad at me?" Sirius snapped, his voice staying low, but his tone as corrosive as acid. "I've just got punched in the face for you, and you're mad at me?!"

"Yes, I am mad at you, Sirius," you replied, throwing the clothe away in exasperation. "I am mad at you, because you got punched in the face! What were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that you needed me…"

"I don't need you, Sirius!"

The words escaped before you could refrain them, even if they were a mere lie.

Of course, you needed him. That was the point, actually. You needed him safe, and happy, and laughing. You needed his stupid long dark hair, and his bloody cute chin, and his stormy grey eyes that didn't seem to have an end, and those stupid lips you dreamt about kissing…

And you needed the way he always hid his pain behind wits, and the way he made you laugh every morning when you drank your fist swing of tea on purpose just to make you choke on it and look at how mad it made you with that stupid smirk plastered on his lips. And you needed the way he always held the door for you, and how he didn't even ask before he would pick up the mountain of books you were taking from the library for your essays. And you needed the way he said your name in that deep voice of his, and this almost-shy smile he gave you every month when he walked back from Hogsmeade and offered you a bunch of sweets from Honeydukes. Always your favourites. Every single trip to Hogsmeade ever since you had been allowed there during your third year. You needed to hear his laugh ringing through the corridors, so loud that you were aware of his presence way before seeing him. You needed his stupid pranks and his even more idiotic acts of kindness. You needed his broken parts and all his scars if only to help him make them slowly get better. You needed him. You needed him so badly, it hurt sometimes, right there, in your chest, and there was no way, absolutely no way that you would let him endanger himself for you.

You needed him more than you needed your pride or reputation.

Yet, it was the opposite that your tongue formed on its tip as you spoke.

And the words kept on ringing through his mind like a broken record, and it was more painful at each echo of your voice.

I don't need you, Sirius.

Well, that was clear, at least. No need for Sirius to keep his hopes up anymore. He had kept on hoping for you to maybe, one day, feel for him something else than a platonic friendship, but clearly you weren't on the same page. Instead, you didn't need him.

And he hated you, then. He truly did. He hated you, because he wished he could have answered with a remark just as poisonous and painful as your words had been, but he couldn’t. Not that he didn't find the right words, no the problem was more insidious.

He couldn't say it.

He couldn’t, because then, he imagined the pain crossing your features, and he couldn't bring himself to be the reason behind any of your sorrow. He was used to it, really. Being in pain in silence. Taking the punch without saying a word. Swallowing the insults without fighting back. Years of survival skills had developed while he was a child. Now, he was excellent at biting his tongue and imagining what scenarios could come out as a result of his words. He had made progress over his years spent by James's side to loosen up that tendency of his to overthink everything. That, coupled with his natural will to rebel, and he was good now at fighting with both his curses and his remarks. But not to you. No, not against you. He didn't want to use this weapon with you. He knew way too well that words were often way more effective at hurting someone than fists. The wounds cut deeper, and the scars never healed. He knew for certain that he would never forget the look on your face as you said that you didn't need him.

And he couldn't summon the strength to reply with words that would be just as painful. He had just gotten punched in the face for you, after all. That ought to speak about the way he felt for you.

So, instead of replying, he walked out of the room, leaving you behind.

It took you two hours to find him.

It was raining so hard, and the late days of September had brought a cold wind that curved the veil of droplets as they fell from the heavy black clouds above your head. The sun had almost set by now, and judging by how you were hungry, you guessed it was time for supper in the great hall. Your feet were frozen because of the mud that covered your ankles and splashed across your calves.

You had checked the shores of the lake, and Hagrid's home, and the edge of the Forest, and the Quidditch Pitch. But he was sitting a few meters away from the Whomping Willow.

He didn't seem to mind that his robes were covered in mud and drenched by now. Actually, he didn't even react as you hurried towards him.

"Sirius!" you called as you approached him. "What are you doing? It's freezing, and it's raining, you'll catch your death!"

He slowly turned his attention towards you, his grey eyes fixed upon you, his dark locks clinging to his forehead, his neck, his temples, because of the heavy rain. With the sadness in his gaze, he looked like a sad and wet puppy.

"Let's go inside," you mumbled. "You'll catch a cold, or worse. For how long have you been here?"

He took the time to look carefully at you, finding that you were just as drenched as he was, shivering in the cold rain.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, ignoring your own question.

"I was looking for you, obviously," you answered. "Now, come on, let's get you dry…"

"You were looking for me?"

"Of course! You just… disappeared, I was worried sick about you!"

He merely blinked up at you.

You heaved a sigh, swallowing your pride with the lump in your throat. You had to apologize for lying to him, and acting like an idiot, when he had simply tried to help.

You were such an idiot, sometimes…

"Look, Sirius… I'm sorry about what I said in the dorm. I didn't mean it. Please, let's go back inside."

"It's okay. I'm not mad at you," he answered with a soft smile.

"What?"

"I'm not mad. You're right, you don't need me. I was acting as if you did, but I was wrong. I guess… I thought we were closer friends than you mean for us to be. It's okay. I understand."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm used to it, really. It's fine. Sometimes, I start needing people more than they need me. It's alright, I get it."

"No, no… No, Sirius, you don't get it. I was just mad because you got punched in the face, and I was worried about you, and I said utter nonsense…"

"No need to feel bad about all this. It's okay."

"It's not okay! It's not okay, because it wasn't true!"

"Y/N…"

"It's not okay at all, how can you say that it's okay?!" you asked, starting to raise your voice. "I hurt you! And I was mean! And I shouldn't have said that, because it's not true at all! So be mad at me!"

"I… I don't want to be mad at you…"

"I'm sorry!"

"I forgive you, alright… are you, are you crying?"

It's only then that you noticed that hot tears were mingling with the cold rain across your cheeks.

"I'm so sorry. I never want to make you feel like that. I'm so sorry," you whimpered.

"It's… it's alright."

"I was lying. It's not true. Please, don't say that we're not friends anymore. I do need you. I do need you, Sirius. And I hate it! I hate it, but I need you! And it's… It's dark, and it's late, and I'm cold and I'm drenched with this freaking rain and yet all I can think about is that I love you."

You didn't seem to notice your confession as it passed your lips, and for a moment, Sirius wondered if he had heard you right. But there was no mistake, you… you had said it.

You loved him?!

Slowly, he stood up, while you kept on crying.

"I was just mad at you because… because you mean so much to me, and I… I hate to see you hurting. I hate to see you in pain. And I hate it… I hate it when people are mean to you. I'm so sorry. I was so worried about you. I'm…"

But you were shushed by Sirius's arms wrapping around you, encaging you all of a sudden. You needed a few seconds for your brain to register what was actually happening. But it was his arms pressed against your back, and it was his chest against yours, and it was his cheek against yours.

"It's alright," he spoke in a soft, warm voice. "I'm not mad. I forgive you."

Finally, you wrapped your arms around his frame too, your tears finally stopping.

"Thank you, for defending me," you eventually whispered in his ear, your warm breath such a burning contrast with the cold air against his skin, making him tremble in the best way.

"Anytime. We should go back inside though, you're frozen."

"Yeah, I'm really cold."

"You know what… I think we could cuddle. Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles!" he mumbled, making you sway from one foot to the other, and you couldn’t refrain a laugh at his silly behaviour.

"I'd like that," you nodded. "With blankets."

He hummed in agreement.

"But… are we gonna discuss the fact that you've just told me you love me?"

Your heart stopped altogether.

"Did I?" you asked, although you knew perfectly well that he was right.

What had passed through your brain to make you say something like that?

"Yeah, you did."

You looked for the right words to apologize, but Sirius was faster than you to speak again.

"So… What about we go to Hogsmeade together next month?"

You pulled away just enough to be able to look at him.

"Are you… Are you asking me on a date?" you asked.

"Maybe…"

"Maybe?"

"Depends on… whether you'll say yes or no."

"What would we do then, if it's a date?"

"I have a few ideas. Know about a couple of places we could visit. I know you'll like them."

"Already? You already know what we're gonna do? Even if you've literally just asked?"

"Maybe… just maybe… I've been imagining that for a while," he admitted, blushing.

You couldn't help the grin that formed on your lips.

"Really?"

"Yeah… really… but… huh… you have to give me an answer before I get my hopes too high…"

But your grin didn't waver. And when you stared at his eyes, he could read your answer already, without needing you to speak the words.

Still, it was a nice thing to hear, and a nice thing to say, so you answered out loud anyway.

Merlin, Sirius was infuriating. And you loved him so much.

"Yeah, I'd like to go on a date with you, Sirius Black."

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

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[fanficflaneuse]

Let Me See It

A/N: So this is my very first Harry Potter imagine ever (it is, in fact, my very first fanfic ever). I’ve got a few things to say before we start. First, if anyone read the very long rant I wrote the other day (my first Tumblr post ever lol), I haven’t read all the books yet and I haven’t watched all the movies either. I’m currently on the third book. Why would I write a sixth year Draco imagine when I have virtually no canon idea about it? Well, my friends, I’ve read a lot of fanfiction and imagines about it so I kind of have all the main plot points and I wanted to give it a go. It’s absolutely self indulgent. Hopefully once I’ve finished all of the books my writing gets better. Also, English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, please tell me and I’ll correct it :) I hope it’s not too bad and I really hope you like it. 

Details: 

Draco Malfoy x Reader (She/her pronouns...If this goes right I’ll try my best to write gender neutral as well). 

Word count: 1529 

Summary: The reader is Harry’s friend and in a secret sort of relationship with Draco. She is the one who’s hit by the sectumsempra spell and wakes up in the hospital wing to an angsty/fluffy situation. 

Warnings: my terrible writing, some angst, some fluff, perhaps a lot of wordiness, sectumsempra, soft Draco. 

When (Y/N) woke up, she felt as though she had been drowning and could finally take a breath. Her whole body ached and her chest felt tender in the worst of ways, open even. Engrossed in the sensations, she didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings at first. Then she felt the raspy fabric of the infirmary’s bed and it all came back to her. The commotion in the bathroom, spells casted and dodged, the water gushing from the broken sinks, Moaning Myrtle’s shrieks…even remembering it gave her a headache. 

When Harry had rushed to the girl’s bathroom, (Y/N) had been quick to follow him. When she got there, her best friend was already casting spells towards the boy she fancied. Draco seemed distraught. He was dishevelled and unkempt. He had grown thin and he was so pale that the bags under his eyes stood out. Shaking as he held his wand, he looked as though he was in the midst of a panic attack.

(Y/N) had noticed all of this, of course. Whenever they met he’d brush it off by telling her he was going through something rough. She had an idea of what it might have been, she had discussed it countless times with Harry (Ron and Hermione would usually dismiss them when they brought the topic up). So, when they had their secret rendezvous in the Astronomy Tower, she’d hold him as he cried. They’d talk about dreams and interests. They’d imagine different futures together. Sometimes they’d snog. Shyly or passionately, it’d feel wonderful until he’d tell her how it was dangerous for her, how he carried baggage she didn’t deserve. They weren’t a couple, but they certainly were past the “friends” category.

Seeing him standing there, standing helplessly against a sink, (Y/N) felt her heart shatter. She had to do something. Fast.

Draco wasn’t even thinking at the moment, casting spells left and right and making sure none of Potter’s hit him. Conjuring the first thing that came to mind, he was about to cast an unforgivable when he saw her, his beautiful (Y/N), standing wide eyed just a few steps away from Potter. He was about to tell her to leave when the scene unfolded in front of his eyes as if in slow motion. He saw (Y/N) running towards him, pushing him out of the way as Potter casted a spell he had never heard of. He heard her name leave Potter’s lips in a sob when she was hit. He saw her fall, lifeless, as her blood poured from her chest. He saw him running towards her, taking her in his arms. It all seemed unreal.

Then he heard Potter sobbing, babbling, begging her to wake up: “(Y/N/N), (Y/N/N) please, open your eyes. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”.

He held her to his chest. And Draco, enraged and panicked, ran towards both of them.

“What did you do, Potter? Fix it, fix it I am begging you,” he pleaded as he tried to take (Y/N) from his arms.  She was growing paler by the minute, her uniform soaked in so much blood it made Draco sick.

“Don’t touch her, death eater,” he spat as he rocked her back and forth in his chest and sobbed.

“Fix it!” he barked.

“I…I don’t know how,” babbled Harry, holding even tighter to his best friend.

They both looked at her helplessly, hoping for a miracle. Guilt-ridden, Draco started sobbing as well. He fancied her. Merlin, he could even swear he loved her. She saw the good in him when nobody else had bothered to even try. She overlooked how nasty he had been to her friends and even to her in the past. She showed him the meaning of true friendship, opened her heart to him to give him nothing but love and care. By her side, he started considering different ways of conceiving the world. She believed in him as he evolved into a person who hated everything the mark under on his left forearm meant. In the last year and a half, (Y/N) had become the person he probably cared for the most (apart from his parents, if the Dark Mark was a testament to something). Now she was there, bleeding on the cold, wet floor of Myrtle’s bathroom as the two boys and the ghostly girl sobbed for her.

After what seemed like hours, the miracle did come…in the form of Professor Snape. He quickly chanted a counter spell he had never heard of either. Draco concluded his aunt Bellatrix wasn’t a very good teacher as she was the one who taught him every Dark spell he knew. With one icy glare, Snape got Harry to let go of (Y/N) and took her to the hospital wing. Both boys followed behind him, their bloodied clothes alarming the whole school.

Three days later, both of them were still there, glaring at each other, waiting for (Y/N) to wake up. There were times when Draco thought she’d stay in her stupor forever. He buried his face in his hands, feeling empty and guilty, until he heard a gasp. She had woken up.

Draco rushed from his seat and took her hand. Harry had done just the same. As she squeezed both their hands, Draco and Harry shared a sigh.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N/N). I didn’t – “

“Don’t even start, Harry. I’ll scold you later,” (Y/N) interrupted. Even though she felt tired, (Y/N)’s voice had a bit of playfulness in it, which humoured Harry and brought warmth into Draco’s heart. (Y/N) gave Harry a meaningful look; her way of telling him she needed to talk to the Slytherin in private. He gave her a curt nod, not very convinced, but still let go of her hand.

“I’ll come later with Ron and ‘Mione,” he said.

Draco gave him a thankful nod as Harry closed the curtain around them. His heart was pounding hard as silence engulfed them again. Their eyes met. He felt relieved that she was with him, but also uneasy and guilty. (Y/N)’s eyes travelled to his left arm. She swallowed hard.

“Let me see it,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

Draco held his breath. His eyebrows furrowed in sorrow. He didn’t put up a fight when (Y/N) took his arm and gently pushed his sleeve up. (Y/N) knew what she would probably find under the sleeve. She thought she was prepared. And, of course, she wasn’t. She gasped loudly as she saw the black snake protruding from a skull’s mouth. She looked at the blond Slytherin, feeling the pain and disappointment seeping from her gaze, as well as a couple of tears. He didn’t meet her eyes. He was ashamed. The guilt, the pain, and the self-hatred were eating him up.

(Y/N) saw a few tears silently slipping from his eyes and her heart broke again. Draco sobbed. He was certain he had lost her now.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N/N). They made me do it. I had no choice…He’s going to kill my parents and I can’t –,” his pathetic little apology was cut short by his sobs. He was certain he was a bad person, but having to hold himself accountable in front of the one person that truly saw him for who he was felt unbearable.

He felt (Y/N)’s fingers gently caressing the dreadful mark. He mustered all of his courage to look at her and found a sympathetic expression that made him feel better. She pulled him to her and he gave her a hug. Draco started crying again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” he cried, bringing her closer to his chest as though she could disappear any minute.

She pushed him just a little, enough to allow her hands to travel to his face and clean his tears with her thumbs.

“Shh, Dray. Don’t cry. I know that mark isn’t you. I trust it isn’t you. I know you wouldn’t join them on your own volition,” she soothed.

(Y/N) made room for him on her bed and he slither in, careful not to hurt her in any way. He buried his face on (Y/N)’s neck as she whispered sweet nothings in his ear. She caressed his hair gently as Draco sniffled. He was still heavyhearted, but she felt like home and it made his heart swell.

“Dray”

“Yes?”

She thought about making him promise to make it right, to fight by her side. But she felt tired. Her body still ached. And, regardless of the circumstances, snuggling up to him felt wonderful. So, she closed her eyes and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“I love you,” she said almost inaudibly. Draco was so close he heard alright. He couldn’t believe she had actually said those three words for the first time under the circumstances. He didn’t hesitate to answer back.

“I love you too, (Y/N/N)”.

When Madam Pomfrey came around and opened the curtain, she found both (Y/N) and Draco fast asleep. Draco’s face was very close to (Y/N)’s neck. One of her hands was still buried in his platinum hair. And they looked so peaceful, the healer could only close the curtain and let them rest.

[kerie-prince]

We're Worlds Apart (4)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: a curse word if you squint, sassy Draco

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: a day late bc i got distracted watching game of thrones lmao i have adhd so i honestly should've known better than to have something so attention demanding in front of me :P

(gif cred)

Three more days.

Three more days until your brother and his girlfriend come to your Buffalo suburban home to spend Thanksgiving. You came home from work on a better day than the ones from the week before, only to walk inside and was almost convinced you entered the wrong house.

Your mother took the liberty of decorating your house while you were gone. The place looked like an IKEA catalogue. Green and cream colored throw pillows were on your black leather couch, your small dining table had a fall-themed centerpiece and a blood orange table cloth. New dining chairs, all of them matched, unlike the mismatched ones you had before. And that god-forsaken ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ wooden sign hung in your kitchen. That damn thing is leaving first thing in the morning.

“Ma, what the hell did you do to my house?” The more you looked, you groaned at what you saw. Your grandmother’s tapestry was no longer hanging at its original place, now hung hidden behind the tv. “Oh, don’t give me any grief about it. Y/B/N is coming and I don’t want the place looking like the Spirit store.”

You knew you couldn't really fight her on this. It would be more frustrating to have to argue and still not be able to put everything back to how it was until she left. Taking a deep breath, you walked yourself to your room to get changed into comfortable clothes and light some sage for your nerves.

Three more days.

—

One more week.

In a week's time, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were to come to New York to spend the month of December with Draco and to say he was excited was an understatement.

He was excited, nervous, and many other feelings that he was too stressed to name. The guest room was prepared for the two of them to share, all he had to do was figure out what to do with them while they were here. He had taken a week off and had no idea what to do. He still hadn’t gone around the city he lived in. He could always ask his friends at Saint Marie but for some reason, he was too shy to.

He could always ask Mrs. Charles for recommendations on what to do. She was a sweet muggle neighbor that he came to like as well as her husband. He could also ask you, but it’s been over a week since he spoke to you in your yards. From glimpses into your window, you seemed so exhausted. Not that he really cared, but he remembered that you would try to get along better and so far, all he’s done was give a nod towards your direction when he walked into his home as you were leaving yours.

His bedroom blinds were always closed now because he knew that if he were to see you doing your… whatever you do in your room just once, he’d change his mind about the whole thing. It still bothered him, but not as bad as it did when he first saw it.

Draco’s stomach growled as he sat on his couch, bringing him out of his thoughts and walked over to the kitchen. To his despair, his pantry, cabinets, and fridge were all empty. Guess I’ll have to grab something. He pondered on what he was in the mood for as he ran out the door. Draco figured he'd just figure it out as he drove around the streets downtown.

Since moving to America, he found so many new cuisines than he had ever imagined. He usually always ate at home, and if his family ever ate outside of home they usually went to the finest restaurants in France. Of course, they were all wizard-owned restaurants. But in New York, he’s been introduced to new things. For one, he had his first ever hamburger with Blaine. Ashley took him to a Chinese restaurant, and Ian bought Draco a traditional New York pizza.

Yes, all these things existed in London. Maybe not so much New York-style pizza, but there was pizza. Draco, however, never had the opportunity to try any of these foods. Lucius was extremely strict about eating out. It was never necessary considering he could afford the best quality foods to be made at home. When they did eat at restaurants in France, it was only because a higher official at the Ministry had invited them for a night out.

Around the streets, the bright lights of buildings and restaurants lit the streets as he drove around them. Draco turned into a street he hadn’t been into yet in hopes to find something else he could find to try. There were a couple places he hadn’t been into; a Greek restaurant, a Brazillian one, and a couple shops. There was one shop close to the end of the street. It was sandwiched between two boutiques and had a neon green and purple sign in the front. Soul Beads. In front of the building was a man with a weird sign in one hand and an even weirder thing that seemed to have made his voice louder in the other. Draco couldn’t make of the rubbish he was yelling into the thing from inside his car.

Draco pulled to the curb to walk around the street and check out the restaurants. A bell jingle caught his attention, turning around to see one person he didn’t really expect to see here. “Draco?” your face showed the same expression as his. He watched as you closed the door to Soul Beads and walked up to him. The weird man that stood in front of the store yelled out, “DON’T TALK TO HER, THIS BITCH HERE WORKS FOR THE DEVIL!”

“Do you know him?” Draco asks with a quirked eyebrow. The stranger kept yelling profanities at you but Draco saw how you couldn’t be bothered by it. “He does this every couple weeks. What brings you out here?” Your hands were stuffed tightly in your pockets for warmth.

“Do you own the street? Can I not be here?” he asked sarcastically. You faced him with a deadpan look as to ask him again without having to say the words to him. Or call him a smartass. Which he is. With a roll of his eyes, he continued, “I’m looking for something to eat but I’ve never been to these places before.”

“Ah,” you started, “Well I don’t know what kind of stuff you’re used to, but I suggest the Greek restaurant right across. Over-priced, but the best gyros you’ll ever have in Buffalo.”

“It’s yee-roh, not jahy-row.” Draco corrected. He couldn’t tell if you were irritated or confused after he said that. Probably both.

“You know Greek?” you asked.

“I studied it when I was a child. My tutor showed me the word once and hit my hand when I had mispronounced it. Learned the hard way to never do that again,” flashbacks to the older woman teaching him the language cursed his mind for a few seconds.

His stomach growled even louder now in the silence between them. Draco blushed in embarrassment, shifting around to look away so you wouldn’t see. You slightly chuckled and tapped his shoulder. “Come on, neighbor’s treat.” And you walked onto the busy street.

This bloody woman is crazy to be crossing a busy street he thought as he rushed to follow you across the street. He got scared as a car got too close and ran to the safety of the sidewalk. “You’re gonna get yourself bloody killed one of these days like that,” he scolded. “If you’re gonna live in New York, you’re gonna have to deal with annoying pedestrians and sometimes be an annoying pedestrian. Be glad you don’t live in Manhattan, they’re worse. A person could be hit by a car and he’d just get on up and keep walking.” you informed.

Draco would be lying to himself if he said that didn’t spook him a little. Sure, he’s seen a few students get hexed, some by him, but they’d never just dealt with it and continued walking in the halls. They’d either have to hope their friends knew the counter curse or they’d end up in the hospital wing and had Madam Pomfrey help them back to normal. These muggles really are just… strange.

The restaurant looked old and desperately needed a remodel but by Merlin, it smelled amazing. “Now, are you getting a yee-roh sandwich or are you getting something else?” you mocked his previous correction with a playful roll of your eyes. Draco looked at the menu but it didn’t matter as he didn’t know the first thing about Greek food. What the hell did my father force me to take lessons for? “Do you want me to just order for you?” you asked as he kept browsing for too long. There were only 12 things on the menu but it still confused him.

He held back a snarl as he agreed to your help. He stood aside as you ordered and waited until it sounded like you were done, then headed up to the window to pay. “Oh, you don’t have to. I insisted I would pay,” you tried to push his hand away and reach for your credit card but he proceeded to hand the money to the cashier. “It’s nothing.”

“Here or to-go?” the lady asked with a thick New York accent. The two of you just looked at each other waiting for someone to say something. “Do you want to just-”

“Eat it here?” He looked at the small space and saw only one unoccupied table by the window. One of two tables. No longer growling, his stomach was shaking nearly violently, indicating that he can’t wait any longer. It was a strange feeling to be starving. Never had he ever had to wait for food at Malfoy Manor nor at Hogwarts. Whether it was house elves or first years, someone always ran to get him food with a snap of his fingers. “Yeah, here’s fine.”

The lady handed your plates to you as he went to claim the small table before someone else did. He looked around the space with a slight disgusted look. It’s not that it was run by muggles, but just because the place looks so old and kind of dirty. Even the house elves at the Manor lived in better conditions. The corner he sat in made him feel slightly claustrophobic. How do they sit and enjoy anything like this?

You sat the food on the table and shook your jacket off on to the chair. Draco watched as you placed the plates as neatly in front of you both. He couldn’t help but notice the rings that covered most of your fingers. Some were simple silver bands, some bronze bands, and some looked like wire that had a wrapped, colorful rock in the center. They were mismatched but coordinated at the same time. If that made any actual sense.

You started some simple small-talk, “So, what brings you all the way out here?”

“I got a better job opportunity,” Draco responded. His voice sounded uninterested, and his eyes stared at the plate. It had three pieces of meat on a bed of white rice, a small salad and a little dipping bowl of some white sauce. He dipped the meat into the sauce and as he tasted it, he nearly groaned in content. The flavors danced around his mouth and he had to hold himself back from devouring the whole plate in a matter of seconds.

He could feel you staring at him but chose not to look up to see judgement in your eyes. Whether it was with amusement or not. The food was so good and he would most definitely order another one to-go on his way out for his lunch break tomorrow. I’m definitely bringing Blaise and Theo here.

“What kind of job do you do?” Draco stopped chewing his food and swallowed nervously. He should’ve expected this kind of question sooner or later, but here he was sitting in silence trying to figure out what to say. He couldn’t just tell you that he’s a Healer because then that would lead to more questions and that’d be more answers he couldn’t give you. “What, you don’t wanna tell me?” you furrowed your eyebrows at him as he continued his silence.

Finally, the word popped in his mind, “I’m a doctor.” Hopefully that ends that conversation.

“That’s cool, what kind of doctor are you?” Shit. There’s more than one kind?

“Uh, I work with people who come into the hospital with major injuries like a broken arm and such,” Draco stuttered.

“So, an emergency room doctor. You work in the ER then,” you concluded with a hand over your mouth as you chewed. “Y-yeah, that.” Draco tried not to sound suspicious. “What about you?”

You cleared your throat, drank some of your soda and pointed out the window, “You see that store over there? Soul Beads? That’s my store.” It was weird how coincidental it was that of all streets to drive into and of all people to run into, he ran into you coming out of your personally owned store. Looking back at you, he saw your face relax and smile at the building. “What do you sell? I’m assuming it’s not food seeing as you didn’t invite me in.”

Now it was time for you to stutter, “Oh, just candles and stuff. Nothing too flashy.” You poked at your food and took small bites of it. There was an awkward silence between you two for about ten minutes before you started the conversation before, “Assuming you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, will you just be working that day?” Draco didn’t know much about the holiday, only that he was getting paid more that day.

“Yeah, I’ll be at the hospital for the night. Probably until four in the morning.”

“Well that sucks. You’ll miss out on the greatest American tradition that is Black Friday,” you chuckled.

“What’s that?” Yet another thing Draco didn’t understand.

“Black Friday is when people fight to the death for a discount on things like appliances and tvs. It’s quite amusing to watch,” you slightly exaggerated. Keyword slightly. Draco had wide eyes as he heard the description. “I’m sorry, to the death?”

With that, you laughed so hard you placed one hand flat against your chest and the other held the table with a tight grip as if you were to fall from your seat. He then realized you actually didn’t mean to the literal death and mentally scolded himself for being so gullible. You continued laughing and he rolled his eyes before chuckling to himself. You leaned back up and wiped some tears underneath your eyes, “Oh my god, I needed that laugh.”

A shiver went up Draco’s spine once he caught a glimpse of your smile. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you smile at all. Before your little argument, you would smile towards him and all the other neighbors all the time. But this never happened before. He looked away from your eyes and tried to find anything else to look at. Tilting his head up, he saw an air conditioning unit. Oh, that’s why.

Small talk ended there with a clear of his throat and proposed to go home. Draco saw how you looked a little disappointed and forced a small, kind smile on your face, “Yeah, it’s getting kinda late and I don’t want to keep my mother waiting. God knows what she’s done to my house while I was gone.” He wasn’t going to keep pressing on the matter as he figured they still weren’t close enough for that. One dinner didn’t make them friends in his book. It wasn’t terrible, though. Maybe he would do it again.

Walking to their own cars, she said “See you around, neighbor,” and got into her car and drove off. He just nodded his head as he always did and drove off as well. They arrived home at the same time and walked inside without looking at each other, thinking that it would just be weird to keep saying goodbye.

—

It was finally Thanksgiving, and Y/B/N and Stephanie were going to be over around three in the afternoon. Your mother was more of a pain than usual, waking you up at six in the morning to do last minute cleaning, grocery shopping, and starting on roasting the ham. The loud argument over ham or turkey in the grocery store the week before lasted for an embarrassing two hours after your mother caved and let you pick the main entree for dinner.

Once you got an hour to yourself, you went to your closet in the hall and grabbed a small glass jar then walked to your backyard for some lavender. You walked to the kitchen for a stick of cinnamon, placed the items on the kitchen counter and walked quickly to your room for something small. Your eyes found a loose ribbon on the floor and grabbed it then went back to the kitchen.

You put all the items into the jar and browsed the kitchen for one more thing. There was a bouquet of flowers on the dining table that your mother bought. Perfect. You grabbed a couple flowers and took the petals to mix in the jar. Once you were done, you chanted to yourself three times:

“Goddess, please take the negativity out of this kitchen.

Replace it with positivity and love. So mote it be.”

You heard your mother waking up from her nap from the guest room and ran into the kitchen to hide the jar somewhere she couldn’t see it. The spell can’t exactly work if she sees something to nag about. She walks in the kitchen and sees you looking suspicious.

She looks at you with squinted eyes - mainly because she had just woken up - but said, “I’m not gonna ask what you’re up to. Can you make the potato salad? I like the way you make it better.” You silently agreed as you looked for the things in the fridge and grabbed a large bowl to mix it in. Your mother walks up to one of the cabinets to grab a pot to boil the potatoes with, only to find the thing you tried to hide. “What’s this, honey?”

You stammered over your words trying to find an explanation before she cut you off, “It’s pretty with all the things in there. You should keep it out.” She placed it beside a photo on the countertop and walked away to fill the pot with water. You were surprised she didn’t ask any further questions. You continued cooking and had a hopeful smile on your face. Maybe it won’t be so bad tonight.

The doorbell rang and you both looked at the clock on the wall. It read 1:55 and you looked at each other in confusion. “Y/B/N must be early,” your mother guessed and went to the door to let him in. The greeting was loud as she greeted him in. You could hear your little brother’s laugh with enthusiasm as he walked into your kitchen, “What’s up, big sis?”

You placed the utensils down and ran up to him with your arms up, “I’ve missed you too, baby brother.” He was much taller than you as he picked you up and hugged you tightly. You slightly swung your legs to give him the signal to let you go. He got his height from your dad, leaving you short thanks to your mother. Your brother had a big smile on his face and you reciprocated the smile. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen each other.

“Oh, lemme introduce you. Steph, c’mere!” He looked over his shoulder and called for the special guest. A beautiful woman with long, chocolate brown hair and doe blue eyes walked next to Y/B/N. “It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Stephanie.” She held her hand out causing you to quickly wipe your hands on your apron. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Y/B/N has told me so much about you. I was so nervous to meet you,” Stephanie admitted with a slight blush on her cheeks. “I wonder what this dummy told you. I bet you I can tell you more embarrassing stories about him,” you jabbed his arm.

“That’s not fair, I didn’t say anything all that bad. You’ll hex me or some shit,” he had his hands up in defense.

“Y/B/N!” Your eyes widened and you laughed nervously, “Don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot.”

Stephanie looked back and forth at the two of you and finally settled on you, waving a hand, “Oh no, that’s okay. I practice, too.” Wait, what? It seemed your mother thought the same exact thing, only out loud. “Yeah, Stephanie also does the same thing you do. Crazy, right?”

Your mother stood shocked before them, not saying anything. Your brother had a smile that wasn’t exactly fitting the situation. Stephanie had a kind smile, and although you were visibly surprised that your little brother’s girlfriend was, of all things, also a Wiccan, you were laughing inside at your mother.

This is gonna be the most interesting Thanksgiving ever.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla @fangirlanotherjust @originalsoulcollector @opiomancy @lipstickandloveletters @ninacotte @daedric-sorceress @frecklesandfirecrackers

[booksforevermore13]

The monster within me (doesn't exist)

Summary: "Hate you?" Sirius pulled away and held Remus by his shoulders, "You ass, we could never hate you."

There's an unwritten rule in the stones that the Marauders stick together. No matter what. Remus learns that in his second year.

Author's Note: Just my version of how the Marauder's learn about Remus' furry little problem. Read it on Fanfiction if your prefer!

...

Remus had always loved the wind, for it came so boldly, rousing him to a wakefulness, an alertness, that let him savour each and every moment in the Forest despite the nearing torment.

In soft breezes, finer than silk, and smoother than water, it sang past the trees, sending the dried autumn leaves on a dancing funfair ride, hypnotic and beautiful. The warmth that had been in the wind just last week had either evaporated into the sky or leached into the earth, making way for the beguiling autumn breeze.

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself in his mother's garden, listening to the birds chirping away and the slight buzz of the bees come to suck the nectar from his mother's begonias.

But he wasn't there.

Remus grunted as a jolt of pain snapped up his back, numbing his shoulders and sending nervous tingles down his spine. He stopped in his tracks and doubled over as his stomach lurched. His eyes teared up as webs of pain started slithering up his body, flaring up whatever they touched.

He should have gone to the Hospital Wing. The pain had started weeks before it should have and he knew he should have gone and informed Madam Pomfrey as soon as the first aches had started, but he hadn't. He hadn't because James and Sirius had been planning a prank for the last few weeks and Remus couldn't find it in himself to lie to them again, to say he had the flu when it was far from that. He needed a chance at normalcy, a chance at actually feeling human, and in his ridiculously miserable life where things rarely lasted, he needed every chance he could get.

Remus felt his legs give out as he fell on his knees, sure that he had scraped the skin off, but he hardly noticed. A blinding pain had started pulsing in his head, moving across his forehead until it became a constant, growing hum. A shriek left his throat as he collapsed completely, clutching his head, clutching his body as his bones snapped and his ankles turned all the way around, as his spine cracked and he bent backwards.

And then all he knew was pain.

...

White walls and white ceilings.

That's what he woke up to.

How Dickensian.

Remus' eyes ached as he looked around his small confined space, hidden from view by scratchy, white curtains.

Normally, he'd wake up to Madam Pomfrey looking at him, her grey irises tinged with concern and underlying pity. She'd ask how he felt and he'd answer 'fine' even though he felt far from fine, and she'd start fussing over him, giving him a dozen potions one after the other, so that in the end he felt as if he was munching on wet sand and wanted to throw up all over her spotless white curtains.

This time, however, there were no grey irises, no condescending questions and no potions. Nothing even remotely similar to what normally happened.

Remus' throat closed up in dread as he remembered the events of the previous night. He hadn't made it to the Shrieking Shack. He'd… he'd collapsed and… and he had screamed in pain but that was all he remembered.

This… this shouldn't have happened. Had he hurt anyone? Had he hurt…would Dumbledore expel him, now that he'd messed up?

He'd messed up. Merlin, he'd messed up so bad. He should have gone to Madam Pomfrey as soon as the pain had set in. A person like him didn't deserve normalcy, and now due to his own careless whims, someone could have been hurt. What if he had bitten someone?

Remus' breath grew haggard as the thought crossed his mind. He wouldn't be able to bear it if he was the reason someone else got turned. If someone else had to bear what he had to bear every single month. He couldn't have, could he?

Merlin, he felt like a monster. He was a monster.

Remus heard the curtains open and his head snapped to the right, expecting Madam Pomfrey to come hurrying in, her voice drowning out his thoughts as she fussed over him.

Instead, he met with crescent-shaped glasses, blue eyes behind them, but they didn't have the twinkle he associated them with. There was a grave expression on Dumbledore's face and Remus knew almost immediately that he'd ruined everything.

"Did I do something… did I hurt..." Remus managed to croak out, his throat constricted with tears.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus breathed in shakily and nodded as Dumbledore took a seat at the edge of his bed. He couldn't trust himself to talk, or else he knew he'd fall apart for ruining whatever he had left.

"No one was hurt, in answer to your question," Dumbledore said, and Remus let out an inaudible sigh of relief.

"—but I believe this time, it was different. More excruciating, I suspect."

Remus nodded, "I'm sorry I didn't come here earlier, this… this could have been—"

"Mr. Lupin, you were found on the edge of the Forbidden Forest by the centaurs. You were bleeding profusely, and had we not got you here the moment we did, you would not have survived."

Remus gulped, his hands shaking. "Are you going to expel me, Professor?" he asked, feeling sicker by the minute.

Dumbledore looked at him through his glasses, as if he was deciding Remus' fate that very second. "Had a student found you there, then things would have been very different. Calamatic, even. The Forbidden Forest is out of bounds, Mr. Lupin, and yet if you hadn't decided to take that certain path, then I believe there would have been casualties."

"There is no easy way to tell you this, Mr. Lupin, but the events that occurred last night could have gone very badly indeed. Kindly don't hesitate to refer to Madam Pomfrey if and when a situation arises not unlike this one."

When, he said when. Would this happen again?

Remus watched as Dumbledore got up from the bed, still peering at Remus through his thin glasses. He turned around to go, moving the curtains aside slightly, before facing Remus again.

"And no, Mr. Lupin, I will not be expelling you. Not today or anytime soon. We all make mistakes, Mr. Lupin, but this cannot be categorized as one."

Remus could have almost cried in relief, his chest lightening as Dumbledore stepped out of his corner, his robes trailing on the white ground.

Everything seemed to be white around here, much to Remus' distaste.

"I believe you have visitors," he heard Dumbledore's voice across the room, and he frowned, hardly registering what he had said before the curtains were yanked aside and he was met with a set of concerned grey eyes.

"Sirius," he breathed out, his eyes watering as the black-haired boy threw himself against him, hugging him gingerly as though he knew he was hurt.

He didn't, did he? There was no way he could.

"I was so worried," he heard Sirius say. "We met Dumbledore in the corridors and he was going to the Hospital Wing, and you were the only one there so we thought something was wrong and you had become sicker and he was coming—"

"Sirius, I'm fine," Remus said and Sirius let him go, pulling away as he took a seat beside him on the bed. James and Peter stood behind him, identical frowns of concern and question on their faces.

"Are you really?" they asked at the same time, and Remus laughed.

"I am now," he said and he meant it.

...

"Lily's reading the same book," James declared as he took a seat beside Remus.

"What?" Remus craned his head over to where James was sitting, the growing ache in his limbs dull and constant.

"Pride and Prejudice," James frowned, "She's always reading it."

Remus shared a look with Sirius, smiling as they looked at a very pondering James.

"It's her relief book," Remus said knowingly. He'd noticed it too, albeit upon James pointing it out to him, but he'd noticed it and once he noticed something, it became awfully hard for him to unnotice it.

"What's a relief book?"

"Everyone has one," Remus said, before correcting himself. "At least, all readers have one. It's something you turn to when you're stressed or sad or simply want to bash someone's head in a wall."

They were silent for a while and Remus turned to his book, his eyes scanning over the pages, yet nothing registering in his head as he waited for their response.

"What's yours?" Sirius finally asked and Remus frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"What's your relief book?"

Remus thought about it it, the question slightly blowing him off course before he raised the book he was reading.

"War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells," Sirius read off the cover. "What's it about?"

"Aliens." Sirius made a face and Remus hurried to explain himself. "It's about people from outside the planet and people from here, and uhh… it's about destruction and uhh… collateral damage.

Collateral damage. Maybe that's why he liked the book so much. There was a hell lot of collateral damage in it. He was collateral damage. His entire life was collateral damage from a bloody freak accident.

"—are you stressed then?" he heard Sirius ask and closed the book shut.

"No," Remus swallowed. "I just really want to bash someone's head in a wall right now."

"Yeah?" Sirius smirked. "Who?"

"No one you know," Remus replied.

"Is it James?"

"No."

"Is it Peter?"

"No."

"Is it me?"

"Oh, hell no."

"Then is it you?"

Yeah, Remus wanted to say. But he settled on, "No."

…

He didn't see them for hours at a time. He'd come out of Charms by himself, no Sirius joking about Flitwick's moustache, he'd go to lunch alone and there wouldn't be a Sirius urging him to eat an extra piece of chicken or offering him his share of treacle tart.

Remus half thought he'd done something wrong even though Sirius had told him he'd done nothing of the sort.

But he'd been distant lately, turning Remus down for a game of Exploding Snap, avoiding the Common Room when Remus was sitting there, doing his homework, not tagging along as Remus went to the Library.

He'd done something wrong, he knew. He always did something wrong. Messed up everything good that came his way.

He stepped out of the Common Room, sorely missing the company of the other three as he made his way to the Library.

He'd found himself spending less and less time there, for without the company of Sirius who was solely there to get ticked off by Madam Pince, the Library felt too quiet.

And yet, Remus found himself making his way there, his footsteps quick and silent, his shadow appearing to slink across the growingly dark walls.

He pushed open the wooden door, squinting as the golden-yellow rays of the sun fell directly over his eyes, and made his way to his designated corner of the library.

Remus had expected to be the only one there. He almost always was. He'd certainly not expected to come across three overly-familiar figures, two of them poring over a book while the third tried to look over their shoulders.

"Sirius?" Remus heard himself wondering out loud. "Peter? James?"

Their heads snapped over to him, Sirius jerking in surprise as the book fell out of his hand and landed near Remus' feet.

"What-what are you doing here?" Sirius asked, albeit a bit loud as Madam Pince shushed him from her desk.

"I could ask you the same thing," Remus said, hurt brimming in his chest as he bent over to pick up the book. His back ached as he did, and rightly so, because the full moon was approaching and Remus nearly recoiled as his eyes landed on the drawing of a werewolf and then of a man transforming into one.

Panic creeped up his throat as he looked at the three of them, his eyes directly on Sirius' as his mouth moved, but no words came out. "Wha-what's this?" he managed, the book thumping as it fell on the desk.

"Why are you reading about werewolves? It's not in our course yet. W-why then?" Remus asked, his words frantic as he looked at James, Peter and Sirius one by one. They each had a guilty expression on their faces, and deep down, Remus knew they had figured it out.

"It's not… Remus, we… we were just… just," Sirius stuttered. He never stuttered.

Remus breathed in heavily. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry, I didn't, I'm not… I am."

And then he ran out of the library, Sirius's shouts for him to stop unheard by him.

…

"We must remember what ruthless and utter destruction—" Remus's voice cracked and a tear slipped out of his eye, sliding down his cheek and falling on the ground, "our own species has wrought, not only upon animals—" and then he stopped and wiped his tears, but didn't make a move to get up from the ground.

He didn't know why it affected him so much, them knowing. Maybe it was because he didn't want them to know he was a monster, a killer, maybe it was because he didn't want them to be disgusted by him, even though he was disgusted by himself. Or maybe it was simply because after all these years, he couldn't stomach his own identity.

Remus closed his eyes, his eyelids spilling out the tears gathered at the corners.

The daylight had dwindled to a barely perceptible lighting of gloom, and Remus couldn't find it in him to get himself up. His shirt was soaked, the moisture from the moss seeping into his skin, sending slight shivers down his back. Dusk had set and he knew he had to go back but he didn't want to.

He wouldn't be able to bear it when he went back to the castle. Their stares, their terrified stares that showed they were revolted by him. Sirius looking at him as if he was a…a…

Dumbledore would surely throw him out now. He'd already messed up once. Now that they knew, he'd have no choice but leave.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he sobbed, his silent cries seeming to echo among the oak. He hardly heard his name being screamed out, or the footsteps nearing him until his eyes snapped open and he saw a frantic Sirius crouching beside him.

"Everyone's looking for you!" Sirius screamed before lunging towards Remus' lying form, pulling him up in a hug.

Remus flinched, his body tense before he relaxed into Sirius' body.

"Everyone?" he asked, his voice scratchy from all the crying. Everyone? Did everyone know?

Sirius sighed. "Just James and Peter," he said. "We've been looking for you everywhere! Have I ever told you you're an ass?"

And then Remus burst out crying, his sobs loud and torturous, tears rolling down his face and onto Sirius' shoulder. "You hate me now," he cried. "I ruined everything, I can't, I didn't mean to—"

"Hate you?" Sirius pulled away and held Remus by his shoulders. "You ass, we could never hate you."

Remus sniffled as tears fell on the cold, wet ground before he felt nimble fingers lifting his chin up to meet stormy grey eyes he would have recognized anywhere in the goddamn world.

"Remus," Sirius urged. "Remus, we don't care if you're a werewolf, we really don't. For all we know, you have a furry little problem you've to take care of once a month and that's that. Nothing more—"

"I'm a werewolf. You should stay away from me. I could hurt you, I could… I could kill you. You have no idea—"

"Remus, I've seen you in your bloody Mickey Mouse underwear. You couldn't hurt a cockroach if you tried," Sirius said.

"But—"

"If you say we should stay away from you one more time, I'm going to stab you with a rusty knife," Sirius said fiercely. "You are a Marauder. There's an unwritten rule in the stones that Marauders stick together. No matter what."

Sirius hauled himself up, before offering a hand to Remus, who looked at it for a few seconds before gingerly taking it.

"And going off to the Forbidden Forest? That sounds like something I would do, which means you shouldn't," Sirius said, before sighing heavily. "Your back is wet, did you know?"

Remus nodded, shrugging to get his wet shirt loose when he felt Sirius drape his sweater over his back.

"You need it more than I do," he said as Remus gave him a questioning look.

Remus gave a watery chuckle before they lapsed into a comfortable silence, navigating through the woods by the dimming light of the sun.

"We have a plan," Sirius said a few minutes later. "A plan to help you when you transform."

"It won't work—"

"Shh," Sirius glared playfully. "Why do you think we've been in the library all week? The library. Me in the library. People should pay to see me there."

"Sirius," Remus said exasperatedly.

"Shh," Sirius glared. "Don't be such a sour wolf."

"A what?"

"A sour wolf," Sirius repeated with the most serious expression Remus had seen on him yet. "And fair warning, if James decides to kill you for being an ass, don't blame me. I'm innocent."

Remus laughed, a real laugh this time.

"That's not fair at all," he said softly as the school grounds came into view.

Maybe he couldn't bear being a werewolf, maybe he was a monster and maybe he wasn't, but he had Sirius by his side, and James, and Peter, and as crazy they were, hell, he was crazy too but he was glad he had them. They were part of his life, and a colossal part too, but they were there and he was happy.

[frostmarris]

Ablaze

Yandere!Shisui/Yakuza!Sakura

notes: ok apparently i cant keep things simple. another drabble request that got out of hand.

this is for @lunarlegend11 who requested a yandere or yakuza shisui/sakura but i misread things, realized there was an OR, then went ahead and did both anyways

enjoy!

: :

Shisui wasn't in the habit of getting into strange cars without knowing where he was headed, but when a yakuza thug is the one to step out of a shiny black S-class Mercedes with windows tinted too dark to be legal and orders him to get in, he's not about to argue.

There's another well-dressed man inside and Shisui is forced to slide in next to him, sandwiched between the two stony-faced men when the first joins them inside. He hesitates to ask what's going on or where they're taking him, so he sits quietly and cautiously takes in as much visual information as he can.

The car races down the street and he attempts to keep track of the route without too noticeably looking out the windows, but one of the men shifts, crossing his arms across his chest, and Shisui glances down to see the tattoos peeking out from under his sleeve. His eye is drawn to the thick white outline of a simple circle nestled amongst the rolling waves and twisting tree branches and Shisui sits back, realizing who's car he's in. He's silent the rest of the drive and, before long, the vehicle stops and the door is opened by yet another yakuza. A sharp nudge from the man to his left urges Shisui to exit and he slides out, glancing around as he realizes he's in an underground parking garage.

He's led to an elevator and is taken up to the top floor, all without any sort of explanation. The elevator doors slide open to reveal a lobby of sorts, where a few other men and women are lounging. Some watch him pass by as he's led to the singular door at the end of a short hallway while others pay him little mind, obviously uninterested. 

Shisui stands a little straighter as he realizes he's likely being taken to the boss, his head held high with just enough confidence to not come off as offensive.

The man walking in front of him at the lead opens the door and pushes it in, taking up a spot just to the right as Shisui is ushered in. It's an office, he realizes as he spots the desk at the center back. The lights are rather dim in the room and the chair behind the desk is empty, but he hears the sound of a page turning and looks to his left to see a woman sitting in a comfortable armchair. The lamp situated just behind her is giving off the most light and she sits with one leg crossed over the other, a file folder propped up on her knee. There's a small side table to her right with a short stack of documents situated next to a steaming mug, which she takes a delicate sip from as the door is shut behind Shisui and the two guards bar his exit.

But he can't tear his gaze away from the woman, silent as he takes in her appearance.

She's wearing a sleek black suit - obviously custom made as it fits her perfectly - with ruby cufflinks and a simple white circle outline pinned to the left lapel. The jacket is open and the top four buttons of the crisp white shirt underneath are undone, the fabric parted just enough to let a few of the tattoos around her collarbone peek out. Her hair - a darker, almost orange-ish pink under the yellow light of the lamp - is pulled up in a topknot with bangs, center-parted, framing her face. There's a simple purple diamond tattooed on the center of her forehead and her ears are pierced, simple diamond studs on each lobe.

Her eyeliner is winged, her lips painted red, and she doesn't look up from the document she's reading as she addresses him.

"Uchiha Shisui, yes?"

Her voice is softer than he'd been expecting and Shisui hesitates for too long, still staring wide-eyed at the woman.

"Answer Haruno-sama," One of the guards behind him grunts as he pushes him forward to stop just a few feet in front of her, obviously irritated with his lack of a response. The gruff voice and the confirmation of what family he was speaking to pulls Shisui from his stupor and he stands just a little straighter before he bows politely, trying to keep his tone even.

"Yes, that's me."

She nods, the light catching off the cherry blossom charm dangling from the ornamental pin in her hair, and flips the page over, grabbing a fountain pen from the side table. Her hand moves with a quick flick as she scratches a line through something on the paper and the room is silent besides the soft jazz music playing from an antique record player in the corner.

Shisui nearly jumps when she speaks again.

"You're the owner and executive chef of Restaurant Moeruki," She says, pausing for just a moment before her eyes finally cut up to him, looking at him for the first time since he'd arrived. He's rather startled by the intense green of her eyes but he catches himself before he can grow too distracted when she continues. "Correct?"

"Yes," He answers, almost unsurely. He has no clue what interests the yakuza have in his restaurant, but it definitely couldn't be good.

"Excellent!" She says, turning slightly to actually face him and her lips lifting with a slight smile.

(Shisui doesn't understand why seeing her so pleased makes his heart pound.)

She maintains that even smile as she speaks, propping one elbow on the armrest and the other on her thigh as she laces her fingers together.

"On March 28th, two weeks from now, you will close your dining room to the general public and host a banquet for myself and my family."

It's neither a request nor a demand - its a proclamation. One that leaves Shisui feeling shell-shocked.

"W-what?" He asks before he can stop himself, instantly regretting it when her smile falls slightly.

One of the guards behind him seems to take offense to him questioning his boss and the back of one of Shisui's knees is kicked in - not enough to injure him but enough to drop him to the floor with a surprised grunt.

The pink-haired woman clicks her tongue and sends the guard a disapproving look over Shisui's shoulder. The man bows his head and offers her an apology before taking up his spot next to the door again. She sits back, both of her arms laying on the armrests, and moves her crossed leg to catch the toe of her leather, stiletto-heeled boot under his chin. Shisui's head is tilted up and he's left in his kneeling position in front of her, that smile appearing on her face again.

Her boot lowers and she uncrosses her legs to stand, gesturing for Shisui to do so as well before she moves towards her desk. He stands, unable to tear his gaze away, and turns to watch her as she leans against a corner of the mahogany desk and crosses her arms over her chest, practically sitting on the tabletop.

"As I was saying," She continues, her gaze still on him. "March 28th. I've heard a fair deal of good things about Moeruki and wish to celebrate my birthday in your restaurant."

Shisui resists the urge to glance back at the man who had kicked him and bows, recovering much quicker than earlier with his response.

"I would be honored, Haruno-sama."

Her smile widens and she nods to one of the guards who then slips out of the room. As the door closes, she pushes off of the corner of the desk and moves around it to take her seat in a plush office chair, pulling a document towards her.

"As it will be a private event, your establishment will need to be closed to its regular patrons," She looks down - he immediately misses her gaze on him - and grabs a pen, writing something down as she continues. "But don't fret, Uchiha-kun. It will still be a full house and you will be paid handsomely for your hospitality."

She pauses to search through a drawer to her left and soon straightens with a small black business card in hand, a phone number printed in silver on one side and the Haruno family insignia on the other.

"My… event coordinator will be in contact with you to assist in booking entertainment and to pick out the courses for the dinner." She doesn't look up from the paper she's still writing on, the card caught between her fore and middle finger as she holds it out to him. "Your menu is one of the highlights of your restaurant so I wish to sample from it - with just a few additions."

Shisui reaches out to take the card, his knuckle just barely brushing her fingertip, and nods, inwardly trying not to imagine what sort of 'events' a mafia gang would need a coordinator for.

The door opens behind him and the guard returns, holding a thick envelope and a mobile phone. Her pen pauses and she looks up at Shisui as he's handed both, realizing the cellphone is likely a burner phone for contacting her coordinator.

He's suddenly aware of how her looking at him fills his chest with a pleased, warm feeling.

"Half of your payment now, half on the 29th," She nods to the heavy envelope, the weight of the cash inside the final piece of proof that this was really happening, and leans back in her chair, crossing her legs again as she maintains that easy smile and intense gaze. "Should my birthday celebration be a success, you will see a surge in business - this I can assure you, Uchiha-kun."

Shisui clutches the envelope, phone, and business card in a tight grip and bows once more, torn between apprehension and excitement.

"I look forward to serving you, Haruno-sama. Thank you for this opportunity."

: : 

Haruno Sakura.

Haruno Sakura.

Haruno Sakura.

Haruno Sakura.

The name repeats over and over in Shisui's mind over the next two weeks.

He can't get her out of his head - that smile, the sound of her voice, those eyes - even despite the fact that one wrong move would likely lead to his death. 

His staff are understandably distressed when he announces the banquet they'll be hosting in her honor, but they work diligently to make sure everything is prepared for the night to go off without a hitch. With all of the food and supplies ordered and the musicians booked, Restaurant Moeruki closes a day early to decorate the dining room according to the 'event coordinator's' direction. One of the private party rooms is spruced up even more so for the guest of honor and her entourage and Shisui elects to prepare their dishes himself. He's meticulous with the menu, looks over every detail of the decor personally, gives the pep talk of the century to his kitchen and waitstaff, and, by the day of Haruno Sakura's birthday, he's feeling confident that the evening will be a success.

The entire restaurant staff is waiting in the lobby to welcome their guests, with Shisui standing at the head of the lineup, his heart in his throat as she walks in.

Her pink hair is pulled up in an intricate bun, a flowering hairpin with dangling gems and charms tucked in on the left side, and, when she turns her head to speak to the woman at her arm, Shisui can see the detailed mandala design etched into her undercut at her nape. Her makeup is rather delicate but her lips are still blood red, parting as she laughs as she passes him by and enters the restaurant. 

She's dressed in a spring yukata, the base fabric a simple organic design of pale greens and blues with falling cherry blossoms, the same shade as her hair, scattered over the bottom half and sleeves. The obi is a darker shade of pink and doesn't reach as high up her abdomen as traditionally. The charms hanging from the mint green cord tied around the middle of the obi jingle and dance with every step and Shisui nearly forgets himself as he watches her walk through the doors leading inside.

With a hushed voice he quickly reminds his staff to be careful yet polite and moves to escort Sakura and her entourage to their private dining room, doing his utmost to get her to look at and acknowledge him.

Once they're situated and drinks are quickly brought in, the music from the band easily reaching the room through the closed rice-paper door, Shisui excuses himself to head to the kitchen.

He returns, some minutes later, with the first course to personally send off the start of her meal, but is soon trapped in the kitchen as he oversees the rest of the meal. His only knowledge of what's happening in the restaurant and, specifically, the private room, is through reports from the waitstaff, who aren't sure whether to be relieved or more nervous the more the yakuza members drink.

Finally, as the banquet approaches its end, Shisui returns to present dessert and see her again for the first time in hours. 

Her gaze passes right over him but lights up at the sight of the cake he'd hired a professional pastry chef to create and Shisui stays to play host, making sure that all of Sakura's needs are met.

Later in the evening, when the cake is gone and most of the lower subordinates are either drunkenly dozing or too engrossed in their own conversations to remember they're not at their headquarters, Shisui feels the oddest feeling begin to burn in his chest.

He's stood at attention with his other head host just next to the sliding door, at the ready for any of the special guests to make any manner of request. He tries to keep his gaze down respectfully, idly listening to the entourage's drunken conversation, but can't pull his attention away from her.

Sakura's face is flushed from the alcohol (he's lost track of how many bottles of sake and liquor they'd gone through) and she's pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her yukata, the fabric laying loosely around her waist, to combat the warmth of the room. The flush to her skin extends down her bare chest, her breasts uncovered and the tattoos over her shoulders and ribs exposed, but she is entirely unbothered by her partial nudity. She exudes an air of confidence that permeates the room, as comfortable in her bare skin as she would be with a shirt and jacket.

Her arms are strong and lean and the muscles of her shoulders and back are well-defined with her every move, though he only sees them when she turns or twists around. Shisui finds his gaze traveling from the head of the dragon curved over her right shoulder all the way down to where the tail appears across her left ribs. The remaining body of the dragon is tattooed across her back and, while her skin isn't as decorated as older bosses, he's sure that in a few years she'd have a multitude of new tattoos covering her arms and torso, with that traditional strip of unmarked skin running down the center of her body.

Shisui continues to watch her, taking in every detail as their conversation seems to fade out and all of the voices muddle together-

Until suddenly Sakura is laughing and his heart both clenches and soars.

It soars because her laugh is one of the most lovely things he's ever heard, almost bringing a reflexive smile to his own face.

But it clenches as she turns to the red-haired woman at her side, Sakura's arm around her waist as the unknown woman sits on her thigh, practically in her lap. The redhead, dressed in an expensive-looking velvet dress, says something that makes her laugh again but the words don't register in Shisui's mind - he's too focused, too lost, as Sakura catches the woman's chin between her thumb and forefinger, pulls her closer by the arm around her waist, and leans in, that intense green gaze centered entirely on her and not on him, not on him, why won't she look at him-

Sakura kisses the red-haired woman deeply and Shisui doesn't realize his hands have curled into tight fists at his side until the other host nudges his arm, his gaze full of confusion and concern. 

Shisui is snapped out of his daze and glances to his employee, trying not to flinch when he quickly unclenches his hands and feels how close he'd come to making his fingernails cut into his palm. He puts on a reassuring smile that's dripping with lies and relaxes his stance, inwardly relieved that her lieutenant and the four other yakuza ranked directly under her right hand man hadn't noticed how intensely he'd been watching Sakura. 

(His chest is aching, burning and tight and full of an anger he doesn't understand, fire caught in his throat and smoke in his lungs and the image of her kissing someone else - someone who wasn't him, why did he wish he was in her place why did his chest burn burn burn - replaying over and over in his mind.)

The laughter and drunken conversation continues for a while, with staff members coming and going with requests from the main party, until, finally, everything seems to wind down and it's apparent that the Haruno yakuza are ready to head home.

"Uchiha-kun."

Shisui looks up at the sound of her voice, in the middle of speaking quietly with one of his head waiters but quickly dropping the conversation to focus on Sakura. She beckons him with a curled finger, one arm in a yukata sleeve and the other still bare, and her gaze heavy from the alcohol and merrymaking.

"Come, sit with me for a moment," She commands, nodding to the empty cushion to her left. She's sitting with one leg crossed and the other propped up, her clothed arm resting on her raised knee while the red-haired woman lays next to her, her head on her thigh and her hair spilling into Sakura's lap. The yakuza boss wears the redhead's discarded glasses, perched on top of her head like a pair of shades, and sends Shisui a friendly smile as he kneels on the cushion.

"My compliments to you and your staff for this evening," Sakura says, her attention finally, finally focused entirely on Shisui (even though she's idly combing her fingers through her sleeping companion's red tresses) and he sends her an easy-going smile that completely belies the fire still burning in his chest and the crescent indents in his palms.

"I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself, Haruno-sama," Shisui replies smoothly, his head bowing so that he could force his gaze away from those red lips. "It's been an honor to serve you - and a bigger honor still to host your birthday celebration."

She laughs and he has to stop himself from looking up at her too suddenly, the ache in his chest waning at the sound of her joy and the sight of her eyes only on him.

"You're welcome back to the Restaurant Moeruki anytime, Haruno-sama."

(He so desperately wants to say her name, wants to say it aloud and taste it on his tongue and feel the breath he would use for the single word as it leaves his lungs, leaving behind a sacred emptiness because nothing could possibly fill the space.)

Her smile widens and his heart soars - only to crash yet again as she gathers the sleeping redhead in her arms and moves to stand, lifting and carrying the woman with ease. Shisui quickly stands as well, stepping aside as she heads towards the door of the private room, her subordinates filing out with tired yawns and a few drunken laughs.

"We will certainly be returning," Sakura says, turning to look at Shisui once more, "That, you can be assured of, Uchiha-kun."

She refocuses her attention on the woman in her arms and that ache returns as Shisui is forced to watch her softly mutter something in the redhead's ear, those red lips curved in a gentle smile when the woman shifts, rests her head in the crook of Sakura's neck, and drapes an arm over her clothed shoulder. 

Sakura presses a kiss against the corner of her jaw as she turns away and Shisui feels something warm and wet drip down his fingers, belatedly realizing he'd clenched his hands into fists again.

He hides his bloody palms as he escorts the woman whose smile he desires more than anything ever before out through his restaurant, the flames growing in his chest contained behind a friendly facade with his lips sealed and a silent voice screaming in his lungs.

: :

Just as Sakura had promised, the restaurant sees a huge increase in business over the following month as they become one of the most popular establishments in the city. It's both a blessing and a curse - the surge in traffic brings in more money and opportunities while the looming presence of the yakuza leaves everyone on edge.

She returns thrice more that first month, reservations for herself and the higher ranking members always called in in advance and a few instructions given beforehand on whether they'd be making any special requests - such as off-menu dishes or what sort of music they wanted booked for the evening.

Shisui fortunately never has to close the entire restaurant again like he had for Sakura's birthday, but one of the private dining rooms quickly becomes reserved specifically for her party. The staff knows better than to ever take other guests into it - even when the restaurant is fully booked - just on the off chance that the Haruno family drops by unexpectedly for an impromptu dinner.

He always greets her at the door when she arrives with her entourage, always insists on preparing her meals himself, always checks in after the last dish is served, and always is the one to escort her out at the end of the evening. 

He rarely has her undivided attention during her visits, no matter how desperately he craves it, until, at the end of her fourth meal at Moeruki, Sakura calls for him personally.

She's seated at the head of the table, like always, but the cushions at her right and left are vacant as the redhead and her first lieutenant are in the midst of a karaoke battle at the other side of the room. Most of the other men and women of the party are focused on cheering along but a few remain at the table, chatting with each other.

Sakura sits with her legs tucked neatly under her, dressed in a beautiful black kimono with a design of spider lily flowers cascading down from one of her shoulders, starting out white but becoming blood red by the time they reach the bottom hem. Her silver obi has an intricate geometric pattern and the other layers of her outfit provide red and white accents, matching the sparkling headpiece pinned into her pink hair, which is pulled up high on her head.

In front of her is a sake bottle and a single cup and she gestures for him to sit to her left when he enters, the other yakuza paying him little mind.

Her lips are a darker shade of red than usual and Shisui nearly misses her words when she speaks after he's taken his place beside her, too focused on how desperately he wishes he could feel them against his own and taste her laugh.

"-ve greatly enjoyed my meals here, Uchiha-kun," Sakura says, her gaze not on him as she carefully pours sake into the single cup. "And i would like to make my dining in Restaurant Moeruki a regular occurrence."

Her eyes cut up to him suddenly, intense and heavy as she looks at Shisui from under her lashes. His heart leaps to his throat and that now ever-present ache is lessened, the roaring fire calmed by her attention.

"If you find that agreeable," Sakura continues, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a delicate sip.

"Of course," Shisui answers, without hesitation. The music is still playing but he doesn't hear anyone singing, but he can't - doesn't want to - tear his gaze away from her own for even a moment. "It is a privilege to serve you, Haruno-sama-"

(Sakura, Sakura, Sakura -)

"-and we would be honored to continue doing so."

Her lips curl into that smile that he covets and the hand holding the sake cup moves towards him, offering it to Shisui. He takes the small glass, his fingers brushing her own, and can see where her lips had met the rim, a red mark left behind from her lipstick.

Had she not been scrutinizing him so closely, he likely would have turned the cup to press his lips where hers had been, an indirect kiss that would leave his lips tingling from the ghost of her presence.

But he doesn't turn the cup and simply brings it to his mouth as-is, suddenly realizing what was happening.

An informal sakazuki-goto - a pledge of loyalty.

Shisui drinks slowly, hoping it doesn't come off as hesitation, and sets the cup down, belatedly realizing that the other occupants of the room had laid witness to him pledging himself to the Haruno family.

Sakura smiles, chuckles, and reaches out to catch his chin between her forefinger and thumb once the entourage have returned their attention to the karaoke match. He's caught by surprise as she pulls him closer, his heartbeat drowning out his thoughts when she leans forward and closes her eyes.

Her lips press against just the corner of his mouth in a teasing kiss and Shisui is both ecstatic and distraught, so close to tasting her but finally receiving even the barest of skin contact from this beautiful, disastrous woman.

The fire in his chest bursts and crackles and the smoke in his lungs coil and smothers his breaths and he wants more than anything to turn his head to steal a proper kiss- to reach out an arm and curl it around her waist- to pull her flush to his chest and thread his fingers through her pink hair and kiss her as deeply as he does in his dreams and feel her body against his own and whisper in her ear just how desperately he craves her and and and-

But he controls himself, knowing such an action would likely lead to his death right here, right now, and pulls away only when she releases him, the corner of his mouth tingling.

His heart yearns and his chest aches and his blood boils when she turns away and he's dismissed, horrified to find that her kiss had been too light to even leave the slightest red mark behind.

: :

Shisui stands there next to the door to the walk-in, half hidden behind a tall rack of supplies and the table linens, to see one of the head waiters at the back exit just down the hall, the door propped open enough for him to see the younger man pass a key to a stranger in black.

It's late, late in the evening, the restaurant already closed and the guests and most of the staff all headed home and Shisui stares for a good long while, taking in the man's sunglasses and the sleeve of tattoos peeking out from under his jacket. They're speaking, but Shisui can't hear the words being exchanged, and the waiter turns to head back inside when the man pockets the key and leaves, looking nervous but pleased with with himself as he closes the back door.

His expression falls, however, when he sees Shisui standing there, his face paling slightly as his eyes go wide.

"U-uchiha-san! How… how long have you been there?"

Shisui steps closer, a heavy pit in his stomach as he approaches his staff member.

"What just happened?" Shisui asks, his voice soft and his tone calm even though he can feel something beginning to bubble inside him. "Who was that man? What was that key you gave him?"

The waiter looks more and more nervous with each question and he forces a shaky laugh, trying to play it all off, but then his eyes meet Shisui's intense gaze and he cracks, wringing his hands as he makes himself small.

"I-I'm just trying to help the restaurant! Trying to help you, sir!"

Shisui tilts his head and smiles his easy-going smile, resting his hands on his hips as he blocks the waiter' path.

"Trying to help me how?"

Brown eyes glance over his shoulder before refocusing on his face, sweat starting to bead on the man's forehead.

"E-ever since the yakuza- ever since they showed up, everything's been different," He insists, unsettled by Shisui's friendly expression. "Th-the staff- they act like things are okay now, b-but I know they're still nervous- still scared that one wrong move means they'll be shot or butchered."

"Haruno-sama and her affiliates' patronage to Restaurant Moeruki has brought us nothing but success and good business," Shisui responds evenly, his fingers twitching slightly.

The waiter's distress visibly increases and he shakes his head, starting to grow angry.

"N-no! It's their fault- her fault!" He steps forward, his expression somewhere between hopeful and frustrated. "You don't have to act like that, Uchiha-san! They're not here to see - I know you feel the same! We're trapped like rats, too afraid to even breathe, and it's all because of that damn woman."

The corner of Shisui's lip twitches and the friendly look on his face falls, his voice taking a warning tone.

"You shouldn't speak ill of our guests."

"She's not a guest!" The waiter says, reaching up to clutch his head as he turns around in anger, pacing as much as he can at the end of the hall. "Don't you see?! She's a viper that's going to have us all killed if she doesn't get her way! She's a monster with a pretty face! That's why-"

Each insult to Sakura makes Shisui's blood boil hotter and hotter, lava in his veins and smoldering ash in his lungs as he takes another step forward, pausing when the waiter cuts himself off.

"That's why, what? " Shisui asks gently, filled with anger on behalf of the dazzling, otherworldly woman he thinks about night and day.

It's been just over three months since her birthday and her visits come regularly, just as she said they would. She dines at Moeruki at least every two weeks, always in her private room with her party of high ranking subordinates and a few close companions. Over time, Shisui began to become a familiar sight amongst them, always joining them after their meal and growing closer and closer to Sakura.

He still coveted her gaze and her smile but each time he was the cause of her laugh or kept her attention centered on him as he told an amusing story, his heart filled with a joy that was almost painful. So close yet still so far from her, he would be patient and do all he could to earn her favor, to have her look only at him- smile only at him- love only him-

"-ith her gone, things will go back to normal!"

Shisui's attention snapped back to the waiter, a dark look on his eyes.

The man boldly continues, hoping to help his employer see reason.

"That's why I gave them the key. They'll come in through the back, quietly take her and those disgusting thugs out, and then everything will be fine again!" He reaches out to grip the front of Shisui's jacket, his knuckle white as he clenches the fabric in his fists. "We won't have to be afraid anymore!"

Shisui takes a slow, deep breath, his expression calm despite the rage behind his gaze.

"When that horrible woman is dead, everything will go back to normal and everything will be fine and-"

Shisui doesn't notice when his hand drops to the belt around his waist to remove one of his well-used knives from its holster - he's barely even aware when he plunges the blade into the waiters chest, his other hand raising to cover his mouth as he forces him backwards against the locked door.

All he feels is fire and anger and he stares down at the man as his face grows pale and he slides down, weakly grasping the front of Shisui's shirt as blood as red as her lips drips past his hand and down the waiter's chin. 

Shisui smoothly removes his knife and stabs it into his abdomen again and again, his sleeves stained red and something wet splattering on his face and his hands moving on their own because this fool had dared to wish her dead.

There were many mistakes Shisui could look past, but threatening her - with her beautiful eyes and beautiful smile and beautiful laugh and all the power to make Shisui drop to his knees and pledge his life to her, if just for the privilege to feel her lips against his own for a fleeting moment - was not something he could forgive.

When he finally stood, Shisui looked down at the bloody body collapsed on the ground with neither panic nor guilt. There was no rush of adrenaline coursing through him or fear of what he'd just done - only a receding anger that gave way to a calm, his gaze calculating as he looks at the bloody knife in his hand.

Killing had been easy - easier than he ever imagined - and it was likely due to how dearly the fool had deserved it.

Shisui's eyebrows furrow and he cleans his knife off on his ruined jacket, his thoughts wonderfully calm. He lets out a breath, all the rage and fire and smoke inside him finally escaping for the first time ever without the aid of Sakura's smile and Sakura’s laugh and Sakura’s attention and Sakura’s-

Sakura.

He turns and there she is, leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest and her surprised gaze on the crumpled body behind Shisui. He stands there, frozen in place, and stares at her, mentally urging her to move her gaze to him and away from the trash that doesn't deserve even a second of her attention.

She looks up at Shisui finally, finally, and smiles a calm smile that maybe doesn't fully understand what just happened.

"I'm glad to see that you're taking your place in the family seriously, Shisui-kun."

And she doesn't. She doesn't understand that he couldn't care less about the 'family'- doesn't understand how he would go to the ends of the earth for her, would fulfill her every wish and command, would kill and slaughter and destroy anything and everything all for her-

And that's okay. It's okay that she doesn't understand yet.

Because hearing her say his name, hearing her reserve a breath just for him, hearing her speak his given name for the first time since their very first meeting fills him with such an intense wave of cooling, refreshing joy - putting out those flames and clearing the smoke and tenderly kissing away the ache in his chest until his heart is soaring too high for anything to bring it crashing down.

Shisui slips his knife back into its holster and rubs the back of his head, ruffling his messy curls as he lets out a sheepish laugh and approaches her.

"I apologize for my employee's rash actions, Haruno-sama," Shisui says, smiling that friendly smile as he gazes at her with a love she doesn't understand yet. "It won't happen again."

She smiles up at him and they walk through the empty kitchen, him just a step behind her at her side. 

"I'm sure it won't." Comes her voice, directed at him even though she's facing away. "I'll have the mess taken care of."

She pauses and glances back at him and his heart pounds like a schoolboy faced with his childhood crush.

"You can call me Sakura, Shisui-kun."

And his heart bursts in his chest, exploding as it overfills with more love and joy than the cosmos can hold - hidden behind his calm smile and his friendly eyes as he bows his head politely, wiping a drop of blood off of his cheek with his thumb.

"Thank you, Sakura-sama."

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Moral Support | Diego Hargreeves x Reader (Oneshot)

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Words: 1572

Warning: TUA Season 2 Ep 6 Spoilers

-

Diego told you to wait in the car, but of course you weren’t going to listen and he knew that. He had even rolled his eyes when you said you will, followed by the slam of the car door. You waited until they were all inside before you made your way in. You knew what floor it was, so you could just simply use the stairs and your abilities to catch up.

As you walked into the grand lobby, you looked up and smirked. Or you could just fly up. You closed your eyes and concentrated, your long coat turning into wings and as you opened your eyes, they were black like an eagle’s. With a bend of the knees you jumped up with your arms wide open, feeling yourself fly past the floors until you reached your destination. You landed on the railing and made your way to the elevator.

You were planning a grand entrance, but as the metal doors opened, a strong stench flooded the corridor. You shrunk back and cough, making way for the others to flee the confinement.

“Happy that you came?” Diego teased.

“Shut up,” you muttered, shoving his shoulder.

“Come on, let's go. And let me do all the talking, alright,” Five said, walking ahead towards the Tiki Lounge. “And, (Y/n), this is a family matter-”

“I’ll stay out of it for as much as possible,” you said, raising your hands, “No problem, old man.”

“Thank you,” he said, fixing his jacket, “Though I highly doubt that you’ll follow through, at least you're the sensible one. I know you won’t say anything without reason.”

“Whoa,” Luther said defensively.

The others debated who should talk first and how to go about facing their father while you stood to the side, sitting yourself next to Diego. You sighed when Diego chucked the conch that Vanya suggested to use across the room, already getting a bad feeling about this meeting.

“You tried,” you told Vanya, “And I think it would have worked with an even tempered group.”

With the slam of the doors, the group fell silent, watching a younger Reginald Hargreeves stride over towards the head of the table with a book in hand. They all took their seats, an uneasiness washing over them. It had been years since they’ve faced their abusive father, so you couldn’t blame them. Yet, this version of their father doesn’t even know the trauma that he had brought to them in the future.

You kept your promise so far and stayed silent, listening in to their discussion. That is, until Hargreeves wanted them to prove their powers. For a while, you thought you could get away with it by sitting back, but he turned to you.

“And you?” he asked.

“Thankfully, I’m not one of your adopted children,” you said, sipping on your pina colada.

“Then why are you here at this important meeting?” he demanded, staring you down condescendingly. “You have no business here.”

“Moral support?”

Hargreeves scoffed and was about to retort when Diego snapped. He leaned forward. “Look, we know that you’re involved in the plot to assassinate the president,” he started.

You sighed, shaking your head. You told him that Hargreeves being there didn’t mean that he conspired JFK’s assassination. Correlation does not prove causation, but Diego was dead set sure that his dear old dad was up to no good.

“You were recently hospitalized, isn’t that correct?” Hargreeves said. Diego shook his head, knowing where he was going with this. “You still seem to be suffering with delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.”

“Am I?” Diego took out the photo taken from the Frankel Footage and pointed at it. “Explain this. That’s you. That’s two days from now on the grassy knoll at the exact same spot that the president is gonna get shot.”

Hargreeves took the photo and eyed Diego critically. “Well… I suppose you solved it, then. You single handedly unearthed my nefarious plot. Is that what you want to hear?”

You grabbed Diego's arm, urging him to sit back down, but he shrugged you off. You looked towards his siblings for help, but they were as silent as you were, watching the scene unfold. There was no need for your powers for the extra boost in your senses to tell that Hargreeves was getting to him. Hearing him continuing to criticize Diego might also be getting to the others as well, even Vanya, who was lowering her head.

As the insults kept hitting, the cold hard truths in the form of knives stabbing Diego over and over in the wounds that hadn’t quite healed, he slowly slunk down in his seat. This time, you gripped his arm and he let you as he shook.

“-A man in over his head!” Hargreeves concluded.

“Y-y-you’re w-w-wro-ng,” Diego managed to reply.

You knew Diego had been cut deep when he started stuttering again.“Okay! Time for my role as moral support,” you said, setting down your drink. “Listen, Reggie. Diego is someone who wants to save people and save the world because he’s a kind and compassionate person that wants to do good, not because he’s a calculative soldier following orders from a man who shows more affection to his experimental ape than his own adopted human children. The fact that the apocalypse could have been prevented had you been a goddamn father for them says a lot about you and what you think you’re achieving, so I suggest you hold off your tactless psychological analysis, that is clearly not going to give you any positive results, to yourself and listen to them for once. Thank you.”

“(Y/n),” Five said, reaching over to grab your shoulder.

“What?”

He pointed up at lights hanging over the table. Small black dots were falling down and landing on the table, crawling towards Hargreeves. Black widows. Your tongue tapped your incisors, confirming that fangs had grown. You looked around at the table, no one but Five and Diego meeting your eyes. You took a deep breath, feeling the fangs retreat along with the small spiders.

It was Diego’s turn to pull you down and you let him. He squeezed your arm in a sign of gratitude. You nodded, then looked back at Five. Once he knew you were calm, he pushed the discussion forward about the upcoming Doomsday.

Hargreeves was condescending as ever, acting as if it wasn’t his problem to deal with. Klaus began to act weird and you closed your eyes, switching them to cat eyes. Although cats can’t see ghosts as clearly as Klaus, they have an awareness of where they are. Ben was here.

You rushed over as Klaus collapsed, managing to let out a faint confirmation that Ben was trying to possess him. After Luther’s outburst, showing Hargreeves what he had done to him, Hargreeves simply dismissed him and walked around you as you heaved Klaus up. He eyed you curiously before continuing forward, requesting to speak to Five in private.

“Come on, big guy,” you said, “Help me?”

Luther stood there, dumbfounded, before snapping out of it, picking up Klaus with ease and dragging him all the way to the elevator. He propped him against the back wall and the others piled in, Diego being the last one and the nearest of the door.

“Congratulations,” Allison said to Luther.

“For what?”

“I think that was the first time ever that you stood up to dad,” she said, sounding impressed and Luther hadn’t realized about that until now.

“Are you okay?” Vanya asked Diego.

He was silent for a moment, looking at you, then glancing at the others over his shoulders. “So much for having my back in there,” he muttered, “Team Zero, my ass. At least (Y/n) said something, and they haven’t even met the guy before.”

“Dee, I’m pretty sure the only reason I could say anything, that I was the only one that could say anything, was because I never met him before,” you said, defending the others. “It’s not completely their fault. I wasn’t the one that had to grow up with his toxic bullshit, okay? You guys did. I give you guys credit for even coming all the way here in the first place to face him.”

“Well, you gave us too much credit,” he said, walking out as soon as the doors opened.

You muttered your farewells to the others before rushing after Diego. You stopped him outside by the curb, grabbing his arm. He whipped around and pointed a finger at you in warning.

“Diego, he’s an asshole. That’s a massive understatement,” you said, “but all those things he said does not change all that you’ve accomplished on your own. You survived with the cards that you were dealt with. You saved people.” Diego shook his head, turning to walk away but you held firm. “You saved me, remember?”

“Thought you said that you had that situation handled,” he said, his cheekiness slowly getting back.

“I’m not afraid anymore to admit that I needed a little help back then,” you said, “I’m always here if you need to talk, Dee.”

Diego sighed, closing his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. “I know.”

He opened his eyes and saw a familiar figure moving in the parking lot. Just like that, he was off. And, like always, you made sure he didn’t go and get himself killed.

[vixenpen]

Caged Hearts

((Hawks x Miku ((oc))

Chap 29. Friends For Now

Keigo swiped a hand over his tired face, and tried to rearrange his features into a smile. It didn’t feel right so he dropped it, and took a deep breath before letting himself into Miku’s hospital room.

Sunlight spilled through the open blinds, bathing the room in light.

Keigo felt as his heart had stopped when he spotted Miku. Then he saw the dark skinned woman with gleaming black wings holding her hand, and it plummeted into his stomach.

Because that woman, was undoubtedly...

“Kei!” Miku exclaimed, eyes widening at the sight of him. A bright beam lit up her face.

“Ang-“ his eyes flitted to the dark skinned woman next to her, and he changed his tune. “Miku...”

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Miku exclaimed, although her voice was a bit weak, lacking its usual exuberance. She waved him to her bed side. “Keigo this is my mother Angela Tsuichi, mommy this is Keigo.”

Miku’s mother, shot him a tired, but friendly smile.

“Of course. The hero that my baby’s been going on and on about for months.”

“Ma,” Miku frowned.

“And of course the man that saved her,” she took Keigo’s hand in hers. It was soft and cool, but the touch was firm. What he imagined a mother’s touch should be.

“Thank you, Keigo.”

For what?

He wanted to ask.

If it wasn’t for me, your daughter would have been safe. Of course I had to rescue her. I love her and I almost got her—

“Of course.” Keigo nodded with a small, tight smile back at the woman.

“Well, I’ll give you two some space.” Ms. Tsuichi leaned over to kiss Miku’s forehead before leaving the couple alone together.

Keigo stared down at Miku’s tired little figure huddled under the starched hospital blankets for a long while, frowning.

The long silence between them made Keigo’s thoughts seem even louder. His golden eyes fell to her singed white feathers and he felt his stomach knot.

“Kei?” Miku hummed.

He looked at her.

“You know you can sit down, right?” She scoffed.

Keigo sank into the chair at her bedside, shoulders and wings drooping with his weight.

“How do you feel, Angel?”

“Like shit, but I’ve felt worse.” She chuckled.

Keigo’s frown deepened.

“Angel, I—“ he swallowed the lump in his throat, and continued. “I’m sorry.”

Miku’s brows wrinkled. “For what?”

“Everything!” He choked out. “If it weren’t for me, Dabi never would have targeted you. You would have never been kidnapped. I should have never-never..”

Never what? Met her? Pursued her? Dated her? Fallen for her?

Been selfish enough to to want all of those things?

Have you ever chosen yourself?

“I should have never gotten you mixed up in my shit.”

“Keigo, you didn’t get me mixed up in your shit.”

“I didn’t tell you the whole truth about Dabi. I dated you Knowing that he could be out there.”

“So you were supposed to put your life on hold waiting for Dabi to strike?”

“I should have been more careful.”

“You can’t control everything, Keigo,” Miku’s head collapsed against the pillows as she stared at him. “Even if we hadn’t dated, Dabi would have went after someone else you cared about.”

“Anyone else would have been able to protect themselves, but you—“

“Are a grown woman who made my own decisions.” She shot back, in a firm tone.

Keigo pressed his lips shut.

“Keigo,” Miku sighed, “I’m alive and safe because of you.”

“You were kidnapped because of me.” He shot back.

“No. I was kidnapped because of Dabi.”

Because he was trying to hurt me by hurting you...

Keigo said nothing. Miku must have sensed his unease, because she reached a hand towards him, wiggling her fingers with a smile.

Despite himself, the man managed a smile back and slipped his hand in hers. It was soft and warm. He was so grateful for the warmth. He squeezed it gently.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Keigo’s fingers twitched in Miku’s hand. His mind stumbled over every thought swimming around his brain. It didn’t help that the warm, soft weight of Miku’s hand was nestled in his. Distracting him from what he needed to say.

He loosened his grip some. It didn’t make it any easier, but it did make it less distracting.

“I—don’t...I don’t think we should date anymore.” He finally managed.

“I don’t either.”

Keigo swallowed what he was almost confident was his heart attempting to climb out of his throat.

“I don’t need a boyfriend right now,” Miku continued. Then she gripped his hand with renewed strength. “But I could really use a friend.” She smiled. It was tiny and hopeful.

Keigo returned it easily.

“I can be that.” He replied.

“Sooo,” she bit her lip. “Friends?” She asked.

A sad, but amused little huff escaped him. He leaned forward until his lips found hers. In that moment, Keigo’s mind felt clear for the first time in weeks.

When he pulled back, he swept his other hand along her cheek and held her gaze.

“Friends for now.” He corrected.

“Friends for now.” Miku repeated.

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

“Now, you have a lot of fans who want to make sure that you’re taking care of yourself since the incident. Do you have any plans to continue with your music at all?”

The interviewer asked. Miku appreciated the woman’s gentle voice and her tactful handling of the questions.

Following her kidnapping and her release from the hospital, Miku was determined not to let what happened to her shape her narrative. But just because she could put on a brave face did not mean she was ready to go into details about the incident.

She smiled, tilted her head to show off her best angle and replied: “I don’t want my fans to worry. Myself and my team have decided that it’s in my best interest to...step away from the idea of touring for right now and focus on other projects. I have something planned that I think they’re going to like.” She gave a little wink.

“Oh! That sounds promising. Can we have a hint on what it is?”

“Well—“

The chiming of the doorbell disrupted the interviewer, and Miku’s heart revved as her head snapped towards the door along with the interviewers.

Miku cleared her throat.

“I-I wasn’t expecting anybody.” She explained.

The interviewer frowned.

“Excuse me.”

Miku tried not to let her unease show as she headed for the front door. When she opened it, a leopard spotted man in a delivery suit greeted her with a smile.

“Got a bouquet for a Ms. Shirogane.”

“Oh-!”

As soon as her eyes fell on the vase of dandelions protected in their little plastic globe to keep the seeds from blowing away, she knew exactly who they were from.

Miku giggled, and accepted the bouquet from the man.

“Enjoy your flowers!” He announced before heading off.

The woman shut the door behind him and checked the note attached.

For my uniquely packaged flower. With all my love.

Sincerely,

Your friend for now.

(I cannot tell you guys how grateful I am that I got all through the story and that y’all supported me through it. It was hard for me to write I’m sure that shows I’m sure there’s like a shit ton of inconsistencies that I’m going to have to go back and fix. But the fact that I actually finished some thing with the way my ADHD and my anxiety is set up, i’m just so proud to have completed some thing. I’m not fully happy with it, And I’m definitely going to go through and re-write it but for the time being I’m just glad that I finished Miku and Keigo’s story and that I can move on with a clear mind. This won’t be the last that you see these two bird brains because I adore them and I want to do more for them but this is it for now)

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Lineage

“In the world of dragons, All dragons are the offspring of the Dark King, directly or indirectly. The Dark King is the source of all dragon lineage, Yanling and Hybrids in the world. It is said that his wings can obliterate the sky and cover a mountain and the realm of his Yanling could cover half the planet.” 

Professor Guderian lectured his class “Dragon Lineages 101” in the largest hall in Cassell, able to seat up to 80 people, but this class was comparatively small, about 25, and composed entirely of Freshmen. It’s also the oldest hall. The original frescos still lined the top of the domed ceiling, with scenes of war, men bearing spears, bows bent back with arrows and fire breathing dragon opponents that dwarfed them.

These scenes and Guderian’s words convinced Tigre that he’d seen the actual Dark King in his vision - that voice that could shake the ground and shake his bones from the inside out, those wings that obscured the moon in the sky. When he stood on the throne, a great flock of dragons surged up and he was caught up in it.

This simple lesson was already taught to him, but in pictures.

He rested his cheek in his hand, looking up at the ceiling. On the first class of the first day of school, he had already convinced himself that he was right where he needed to be. He sighed, dreamily contented.

A sharp elbow interrupted his euphoria. Porsche brought his attention back to the lesson.

“Dragons are grouped by their generations.” Guderian switched on a slideshow of a chart. “Generally speaking, the closer a dragon’s lineage is to first or second generation, the smarter, stronger, and more capable it is, and the higher tier Yanling it has. The Dark King is Generation Zero, above the the first generation.” 

“The known first generation includes the Light King and the Four Lords that were directly created by the Dark King. The Four Lords control the four classical elements of Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water, and the Light King controls the fifth element of Spirit. Each of the Four Lords are actually twins of dragons who can combine their bodies to attain their ultimate powers. The Light King may have been a set of twins as well but evolved to transmit her genes via parasite. Next slide.”

“The Second Generation is far more numerous, created by the Four Lords and are called ‘princes’. A very high class prince is called a ‘lord’, not to be confused with the Four Lords. All prince-level dragons are recorded by their names and there are a few dozen of them. Next slide.”

“The third generation and below are exponentially weaker. They’re still stronger than humans but it’s easy for humans and the modern Hybrids to deal with them with weapons and manpower.”

Outside the lecture hall, umbrellas bloomed like black flowers under the steady rain. The students without the foresight to bring umbrellas dashed through the rain with their backpacks over their heads.

“I wonder what lineage I am.” Tigre mused, walking alongside the sisters.

“Given your high level of ranking on the test? First Gen for sure. Only First Gen can reach S level. The lower generations don’t resonate as well because they don’t have as much access to those high level genes needed to rank that high. Cassell wants the strongest hybrids here. So they really want the high quality first generation genes to fight in the war. That’s why the 3E is important. If you want to kill the Dragon Kings, you need Dragon King level lineages for hybrids.” Ruby helpfully explained as she walked alongside her sisters.

“You’re rank A. So that means you’re first generation as well?” Tigre asked.

“That’s correct, though our family lineage dramatically improved in one generation. It’s quite interesting. We had a few A-ranks in our family, my mother is A-ranked, married to A-ranked in the hopes of getting one A-ranked child, but she got three. Some would say that the appearance of more high level hybrids from around the world at Cassell College, from areas where previously few or none existed, is a bad sign. A sign that the awakening of the Dark King will happen very soon.” Celeste said softly.

“I don’t really see the connection.” Tigre scratched his head.

“There was one S-ranked student before Lu Mingfei around twenty ago but now we have two within 3 years and the ratio of A-rankers has increased as well. The voice of the Dark King could span the world and suppress every dragon within it. It would makes sense that the stirring of the Dark King could cause a reaction in those who are already attuned. They call it “Blood Call Theory.” Of course, this is just a theory with no proof.”

Tigre went quiet. The only person who called him was Chu Zihang. Before seeing that man, he never felt a special kinship with anything. He didn’t understand the existence of dragons until he heard the words through the speaker at the 3E test. This ‘Blood Call’ theory didn’t seem to apply to him.

At the same time, when he heard the recording through the music, he recognized and responded immediately and without question. Something had been there all his life, but he had no point of reference. Even if he had been called, he couldn’t respond.

He couldn’t remember anything outside that basement. He wasn’t born there was he? People should have fathers and mothers be they dragons or humans. Everything he learned at Cassell, he associated it with his 3E vision. But he was an adult, alive for two decades. Beyond the 3E, there was only the hospital and the dark cave-like cage where he fought and ate and slept. No parents, no childhood.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ruby asked. “You look upset about something.

Tigre lifted his head and looked at the three girls who stared at him in rapt attention. “Oh… I was just trying to understand.”

“Do you feel like something is calling you?” Celeste asked carefully.

“No. I was trying to remember if I heard something like a Blood Call. But I… I don’t remember anything.”

“Don’t remember anything? Do you have amnesia?” Porsche who had been texting contentedly as she walked suddenly caught up from where she’d fallen behind.

“Amnesia…”

“It’s when you lose your memories. Like you hit your head or something and you can’t remember your past. Tigre is a weird name. That’s probably not your real name.” 

“Porsche.” Ruby interrupted. “I think maybe we should change the subject.”

“Why?” She put her phone away, tilting her head to look up at him. “Tigre. Aren’t you interested in where you come from? You were saying that you wanted to know which Lineage you had. Who gave you the name Tigre?”

“I don’t know. That’s just what people called me…” The shadowy figures that opened the cage. They called him and woke him up and opened the cage and let out the monsters to feed him. They called ‘Tigre’ and told him to ‘come and get it’. That was the extent of his human contact that he could recall. He felt a pain in his heart, like it was being squeezed.

“What people?”

“Porsche stop! You’re upsetting him.”

Tigre wiped at his face and smiled. “It’s just the rain. Don’t worry.”

[sxvxrxssnape]

minerva mcgonagall’s personal mission to make severus love christmas part 5

aka snolidays/snapemas day 11 and 12 (hot chocolate, baking) // pre-PS/the years between. minerva and severus friendship // content warning: panic attack and mentions of lily potter. i feel like this should be considered a snapetober entry oops. word count: 4287  @blog4snape

The night ended with more hot chocolate as the five stood together and watched a choreography of lights move above the pond, creating elves loading a sack full of gifts onto the outline of a waiting sleigh, watched it become glowing reindeer pulling it off the ground, rising in height and getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared and the light show began again. 

It felt like magic and he refused to believe none was involved. 

He fell asleep fully clothed that night, contentment and milk chocolate running through his veins as he begrudgingly made another mark on the imaginary scorecard. 

Minerva was definitely winning.

Saturday was spent finishing the potions for the infirmary, bottling and stoppering the dozens of phials, and methodically scrubbing the cauldrons clean as he read from a book hovering above the wash basin, the pages turning with a flick of his head. 

He dropped the potions off at the hospital wing, secretly pleased that Poppy was far too busy with a floo call to a student’s parents to bother giving him more than a thankful nod and a wave of her hand. He didn’t mind their conversations, but when three students were laid up sick on starched cots, Severus preferred to be as far away from the infestation as possible. 

He spent the night reading, a cup of tea in hand, the soft glow of candlelight nearby to illuminate the words of one of the books he had picked up from Diagon Alley. 

Sunday morning found him sprawled out on the couch in his living quarters, fully dressed once again, with the candles snuffed and the book astray, the teacup still nestled between a cushion and his thigh. 

He spent the day holed up in his office with a correcting quill, the stack of essays he kept putting off, and no less than four packets of crisps. It was dinnertime by the time he finished reading all the scrolls of parchment, his fingers cramping and eyes bleary. He had the beginning of a headache forming, but the grading was nearly caught up on. 

The remainder were short-answer questions, at least.

He wasn’t sure he could sit through another stack of eighteen inch essays for at least another month.

Perhaps two. 

The crisps had made him nauseous, so rather than attending dinner in the Great Hall, he flooed into the staff lounge and helped himself to his precious french press that had been left behind. As the coffee grounds soaked, he glanced around the room and took in the stockings.

There were some new additions.

There were his and Minerva’s - white, cable-knitted with fur trim, bearing their names embroidered in black thread - but also a bright blue with Filius’ initials, a pastel-pink made from crushed velvet with Pomona’s name spelled out in tiny yellow flowers, a black with silver snowflakes bearing Aurora’s family crest, and a neon orange war crime that could only belong to the headmaster. 

All of them had candy canes peeking out. 

There was a tree in the corner now - a tall, proud-looking noble fir - looking like an oversized houseplant when it was devoid of lights and decorations. He finished making his coffee and sat down at the round table, eyeing it carefully.

The rest of the castle was still surprisingly devoid of holiday decorations, but if this tree had already arrived, it was only a matter of time before the rest of it started creeping in. Soon enough, the place would look like a tinsel factory had exploded inside of it and the number of trees within the castle walls would put the Forbidden Forest to shame. 

He scowled at the thought. 

Later, he realized he had spoken too soon. 

Monday morning brought a fresh shower of snowflakes, a drop in temperature, and about thirty-six douglas firs into the Great Hall. These were already decked out with lights, ribbon, and colorful baubles. Some of the trees had clearly chosen sides, cheerily standing tall with the weight of red and gold ornaments, while others were laden with green and silver, blue and bronze, or gold and black. 

Garland clung to the old brick, neatly tied with red ribbon and perfect pinecones, spaced out above the portraits and high, arched windows. 

He didn’t want to think about the rest of the castle. 

There was white chocolate peppermint tea waiting for him at the staff table, so he conceded that not everything that morning was absolutely terrible. 

Tuesday was a bad potions day.

Not for him as a brewer, of course, but as a professor. 

By the time both his classes ended, eight different cauldrons had either melted, exploded, or absolutely disintegrated without a trace. He lost a full jar of moonstones because one student had decided to bring the entire fucking container to her table rather than count them out beforehand like he had advised, and it had taken all his self-control to stop himself from breaking down right in front of the class of sixth years. 

He had collected those moonstones himself, wandering the Forbidden Forest all fucking night, with only a lantern to light the way. They were supposed to last him at least another two months before he would need to venture out again - and the last time he had gone out, he’d nearly sprained his ankle on an upturned root and gotten a tree branch to the fucking face. 

Tuesday evening found him four drinks in, asking the house elves to please bring him some hot, salty chips from a local shop, and when the darling little elf returned with the newspaper cone, he babbled stupidly for two solid minutes from gratitude alone. 

Wednesday was a headache, a blur of back-to-back classes, a lot of frustrated yelling at completely inept students, a full pot of that wonderful white chocolate peppermint tea, and a sudden decision to not assign any more homework for the rest of the year.

Not because the awful little slimeballs deserved a break, but because he did. 

The elves made mushroom and wild rice soup for dinner, alongside everything else they always made, and Severus took more comfort than usual in the hot meal. 

Wednesday night was his turn to patrol the castle, so he stayed up half the night wandering the empty corridors. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he entered the Astronomy Tower, groaning as he realized Aurora was still there, carefully packing away her supplies post-lesson. 

“Oh, don’t act like you aren’t glad to see me.”

“Believe me when I say I’m not.” Severus returned, stepping to the edge and looking over the grounds. Most of it was cloaked by shadows, but the silver light from the moon was still enough to softly make out the silhouettes of the greenhouses and Hagrid’s little hut. “What, no comment on how I’m out past my bedtime?”

Aurora laughed, putting a bronze telescope back into its case and fiddling with the straps. “Not this time, no.” She glanced up at him and warned: “But don’t you ever make me miss out on family dinner again or you will regret it.” 

Thursday morning he slept in. 

He barely had enough time to pull on his teaching robes and run fingers through his hair before he had to hightail it to his classroom, frazzled and out of breath. He hadn’t had time to prepare the chalkboard the day before, and was quickly writing out the recipe in his messy scrawl, when the seventh years started filtering in.

“Alright, you’re going to need number three pewter cauldrons today,” he called out over his shoulder, finishing the last line of script. “Fill them with two liters of room temperature water and put your burners on low. Today we’re going to be brewing a more complex -”

“Professor?” 

He scowled at the interruption. “What is it, Mr. Greenwood.” 

“I think your robe might be inside out.”

He blinked and tried not to let his face flush with embarrassment. “Thank you, now as I was saying -” he continued awkwardly, shrugging out of his robe and flipping the sleeves inside out. 

“Your shirt buttons are fucked up too.” 

“Language!” he scolded, swallowing down the sharp coil of emotion building at the back of his throat. “And do not speak to me like that.”

“Hey, you’re the one walking in here, unprepared, with your clothes all fucked.” Greenwood muttered. “Just what were you up to before class, sir?” he grinned, his comment eliciting a few chuckles.

“Detention, Greenwood.”

“Now, wait a second!” the boy faltered.

“Do you wish to make it two?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he raised an eyebrow in questioning contempt. “Because we can surely arrange that.”

“No, sir.”

“Good.”

He finished the lesson on autopilot, quickly fixing the buttons on his shirt in the supply closet, fingers shaking nervously as he muttered angrily to himself. He shrugged back into his robes, double-checking they weren’t inside out again, and downed a calming draught on a whim - the shiny light blue bottle catching his eye from its place on the shelf - before returning to his desk. 

He made sure to scowl at each of them in turn and surprisingly enough, not another student made an unwarranted comment about his appearance, his teaching, or even each other. It kept him from reaching for another calming draught when he felt its effects lifting. 

Friday found him having a panic attack.

Then again, if no one opened the door to the broom closet he had squandered in, if no one came face-to-face with his crouched down, fingers tangled in his hair, not-quite-yet-out-of-breath, full body trembling self, could anyone really prove he was having an anxiety attack?

He’d barely made it through his second class and had dismissed the second years twenty minutes early, sans homework - and oh, Merlin, they were going to think he'd gone soft - before attempting to return to his personal quarters.

It didn’t quite work out as planned. 

His knees had felt shaky and he’d felt as if something were gripping at his throat, pressing down on his lungs, and he had to sit down and ground himself before he had a full-on breakdown in the middle of the corridor. He’d found himself stumbling, as he hid behind the closest doorway, the tidal wave of unchecked emotions too much.

His resolve was breaking.

He tried to focus on his Occlumency shields, tried to push back the unfiltered pain and fear he refused to think about - could not think about - because if he did, he was afraid he would never be able to function again. He was afraid he would break.

The dam was already broken though and now, now the rest of it felt inevitable. 

Now he was simply gasping for breath, tears welling in his eyes that he refused to let fall, sitting on the floor of a dusty broom closet, bathed in the dull yellow light that flared whenever it sensed movement, like some sort of spotlight - a beacon honing in on him, existing solely to put his downfall on display. 

Far too many thoughts were flitting around his head, crashing into each other and making it difficult to tell them apart, to pinpoint just what had been the trigger, the reason behind his weakness - because surely, that’s what this was right now: weakness.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor and he tried his best to muffle his ragged gasps, hand curled into a fist and pressed into his mouth, teeth sinking into the pale flesh, threatening to break through from the force he was using, so desperate he was to not make a sound. 

It didn’t work.

The footsteps paused, their owner faltering. 

Voices were speaking from the other side, hushed and mumbled, and with another stroke of panic, Severus realized they belonged to more than one. Students, most likely, and he curled tighter into himself, vehemently wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

“Are you okay?” a hesitant voice traveled through the aged wood. 

He didn’t answer, but he figured his breaths were answer enough.

“Are you having a panic attack?” a different voice called out, sounding just as unsure as the first. “It sounds like you’re really struggling.”

“Do you need help?”

“They probably can’t answer, dummy.” a third voice spoke up, but this one wasn’t addressing him. They were all familiar, but his brain wasn’t letting him process anything to fruition. “Hey, if you can hear us knock on the door.”

He considered ignoring them, but in the end he knocked.

“Good!” the first voice praised. “Alright, knock if we were right about the panic attack.”

Again, he knocked. 

“Do you want help?” the second student asked. “I’ve helped my share of students through these.” He suddenly recognized Casper Jenkin’s voice, one of his seventh year Slytherin prefects. 

He groaned; as if this situation could get any worse. 

“I’m gonna take that as a no.” Oliver Greenwood’s voice muttered, so apparently yes, it could get worse. He was stumbled upon by his own snakes - and his disrespecting seventh years, at that. 

“Do you want us to get someone?” Allison Bone, the original speaker, questioned. “Madam Pomfrey or your Head of House? If you’re all the way down here, you’re probably a Slytherin, huh?”

He choked out a laugh at that. 

“Laughing!” Bone approved. “Laughing is good! That means you’re getting control of your breathing. The worst part of it is over now.” 

“I’m going to open the door, okay?” Jenkin told him, and the doorknob started turning. “It’s probably pretty cramped in there - definitely won’t help.”

“Don’t!” he let out, just as the door opened and he found himself blinking up at his snakes, the three of them blinking down at him, equally dumbfounded, and he wanted to scream at whatever joke of a higher being had shifted the cards enough to lead him here. 

“Oh!”

“Professor Snape?!”

He lifted a shaky hand to his face, brushing back disheveled locks of hair. “Get out.” he whispered, low and angry, not caring about the semantics that it technically didn’t apply. 

“Are you sure you don’t need -” Bone started, then faltered at the growing expression on his face. “Right, we’re leaving.” 

Greenwood eyed him a second longer than his companions, but rather than the teasing glint he usually held whenever addressing him in class, he wore something softer. “Sorry.” he mouthed, genuine concern flickering for a brief moment before he also left. 

He put his head in his hands and started laughing, softly at first, but when it became an ugly sob, he fought to regain his composure, nails digging into his scalp. 

He managed a deep breath, wiped his face on the sleeve of his robe, and hurried to his personal quarters. He was moving on autopilot now, slipping out of his teaching robes and into a jumper, grabbing a bit of floo powder and calling out a quiet, “may I come through?” when the flames turned a brilliant green. 

He stepped into Minerva’s quarters, bypassing her concerned look and collapsed onto the old couch, pointedly ignoring her as he stared at the vaulted ceiling. 

“Severus?”

“Panic attack.” he mumbled.

He remained silent after that, listening to the rustling of parchment and paper, the soft scribbling of a quill nib making its way across the page. For a few minutes, that was the only sound, until suddenly Minerva stood up and opened up the floo. Hushed voices followed, then silence, and he finally sat up when he heard the distinct pop of a house elf apparating into the room. 

Dorset, one of the school elves most identifiable by his height, was balancing a tray on one hand and a heavy-looking box on the other. He placed both on the kitchen table, nodded at the two, and apparated away.

“What’s this?” Severus asked, his voice gravelly and tired, as he stood up and approached the table. 

The box was filled with an assortment of items - butter, eggs, icing sugar, flour, and the like. He could see a bag full of dirigible plums sitting right on top and he smiled despite himself. The tray was holding two ceramic mugs, their contents hidden by the mountain of whipped cream and cinnamon they were topped with. 

“Sit down with me.” Minerva said simply, picking up the tray and bringing it to the couch. She sat down at one end, placing the cups on the coffee table, and waited. When he sat down, facing her, she handed him a warm mug. “I asked for hot chocolate.” she told him, eyeing him carefully. “Specifically the gingerbread one we had last week.”

“I liked that one.” Severus mumbled, staring down at his cup.

“I know.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, sipping on their hot chocolate, and Severus could feel his anxiety slowly ebb away as it was replaced by warm comfort. 

“You look awful.” she finally spoke up.

He smiled ruefully, but it felt more like a grimace. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Have you noticed, how every time you experience feelings of distress, someone always tends to interrupt before we can talk?” she asked, watching him. “I think we’ve been putting it off long enough, don’t you think?”

“No.”

“We never got to talk about Yaxley.”

“We didn’t need to.”

“We also never finished our conversation about how you ask for my company whenever you venture out of the castle.”

Severus gripped his mug tightly. “You said enough.”

“You still flinch when people touch you.”

“Can you blame me?”

Minerva paused, studying him in a way that left him feeling exposed. “They’re all connected.”

He kept silent.

Her next words were unexpected. “What about Lily?”

“What about her?” he growled out, anger taking hold and manifesting into shaking hands. He swallowed down the bile he could feel rising, the taste of milk and chocolate suddenly acrid on his tongue.

“You never talk about her.”

“That’s because I don’t have anything to say about her!” Severus finally yelled, nearly dropping his mug. He set it on the coffee table and balled his hands into fists, refusing to break eye contact with the professor before him. “Lily died four years ago, but she stopped being my friend long before that! Do you want to talk about the guilt I carry, knowing it was my fault she died? Because no amount of talking, nothing I do will ever be enough to make up for the fact that I killed my best friend! And I hate myself for that, but Merlin, do I hate her too.”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” he burst out, the words he could never dare himself to say aloud now slipping off his tongue without trouble. “She was my best friend and then she sided with them, with him, after what he did to me! And that’s when I knew she was never really my friend! She saw what he - what he did,” he was starting to gasp for air again, “and she still, she - he -” 

He focused on steadying his breathing, arms wrapped around his torso. 

“I don’t.” Severus finally amended, in such a soft voice he wasn’t sure it even carried. “I want to hate her so much - and I am so angry at her, angrier than I’ve ever been at anyone - but I don’t hate her. I can’t. Maybe I wasn’t her friend, in the end, but I know she was mine. I lost so many people in the war, but she’s the one who hurts the most, so no, I don’t want to talk about Lily.”

Minerva hummed. “You sort of already did.”

He scowled.

“Drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold.”

Some of his anger fizzled out as he finished the drink. When they were done, Minerva stood up and started pulling out the contents of the box, lining them up on the counter. He joined her, watching as she leafed through a cookbook he hadn’t noticed. 

“We’re going to do some holiday baking now.”

“Are we?”

“If you’re not going to talk to me about what led to all this,” she gestured in his general direction, “then we’re going to bake some things for the staff party tomorrow.”

He nodded, sighing. “Where do you want me?”

They spent a few minutes in stilted silence, as he washed the bag of dirigible plums and cooked them down into a sauce, stirring in ground cardamom and honey. Meanwhile, Minerva whisked double cream and cornstarch with vanilla sugar and salt, the pot resting over low flames. He added the plum sauce and smiled as it came together and turned into the warm orange color he remembered. 

“What next?” he inquired, after the thickened mix had been poured into a mold and tucked away in the cold cupboard. 

“Biscuits?”

The sugar dough came together easily enough, pale yellow and perfectly smooth, and as they sprinkled flour over the table to roll it out, Severus started fiddling with the holiday cutters. 

“I can hear you thinking.” Minerva spoke up a few minutes later, dusting her hands off on a clean towel. She reached for a tree-shaped cutter and started pressing it into the dough. “Are you ready to talk now?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Sure you don’t.”

They finished cutting out all their shapes, moved their biscuits into the oven, and cleaned off the kitchen table. Minerva was opening small jars of sprinkles while Severus whisked together icing sugar and egg whites. He focused on dividing the royal icing into small bowls, adding droplets of colored dye and stirring carefully as if they were a temperamental potion, when he finally broached the earlier subject: “They are all connected.”

“Pardon?”

He didn’t look up, merely repeated himself. “They’re all connected.”

Minerva pulled the baking tray out of the oven and cast a cooling charm before bringing the perfectly baked biscuits to the table. Severus picked one up and absentmindedly broke it into pieces. He shared it with Min and picked up another biscuit, carefully dipping this one into the bowl of red icing and shaking off the excess. 

He reached for the star sprinkles. “I try not to think about any of it.”

“You’ll have to, eventually.”

He thought about the broom closet. “I know.”

Minerva dipped a star biscuit into the bowl of yellow icing and handed it over to Severus, who immediately covered it with three different colors of sprinkles. They worked in tandem for a few minutes, dipping and sprinkling all their biscuits, and eventually a spoon was introduced to their project and Severus found himself drizzling thin stripes across some of them.

“I’m giving this one a Dreadful.” Minerva decided, picking up what was supposed to be an ornament, originally dipped in white icing, but then covered with uneven globs of blue. 

“Fair enough.” Severus shrugged, levitating the dirty dishes and moving them to the wash basin, spelling the water on. He picked up a candy cane-shape that had been rolled in yellow and violet sprinkles and then drizzled with green. “This one, however, is deserving of a Troll.”

Minerva spelled the dishes to wash themselves and then raised an eyebrow at him. “Severus, you decorated that one.”

“I’m aware.”

The yule log cake was a little more time consuming to make. He sat down at the table and watched Minerva separate eggs and whisk the whites with sugar until it foamed.

“It would be faster if you spelled the whisk.” Severus offered.

“We tried that once.” Minerva laughed, not slowing down. “It worked great at first, but all of a sudden, the whisk was flinging meringue all over the room.”

“How delightful.”

Meringue was light and shiny and the brightest white he could imagine. Min filled a piping bag with the foam and showed him how to pipe little mushroom tops on the baking paper. When he took the bag from her, he was surprised to find it bore no weight.

“Do you not know how to hold a piping bag?”

“Evidently not.” he grumbled, looking at his hand and the fluff of meringue that had spilled out of the bag and over his hand. 

“You’re supposed to hold the end closed, you numpty.”

“Numpty?” Severus muttered under his breath.

“Elphinstone always did the same thing.” Minerva shook her head, fixing the bag and finishing the job. “No matter how many times I corrected him, that man couldn’t hold it right. Always went off about how he’s the ministry liaison for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Min, I don’t need piping meringue mushrooms in my skill set.” She took in a shaky breath and set down the bag. “See? Perfect.”

“Min-”

“Don’t just stand there, Severus.” she scolded, thrusting the cookbook in his hands. “Get to work measuring the dry ingredients. You can make the cake while I make the frostings.” 

He started sifting flour and cocoa powder. “It’s okay to miss him, you know.”

“Of course I know that.” she humphed, putting the tray in the oven and spelling the dishes clean. She unwrapped a stick of butter and stared at him. “Do you know that?”

“Minerva, I only met your husband twice.” he deadpanned.

She flicked a bit of icing sugar at him. “Don’t be smart with me. I’m not the one repressing all my emotions and pretending they don’t exist until I can’t stave off the impending panic attack and end up crashing in my colleague's quarters because of it.” 

“Fine, you win this one.” he muttered. “You are the pinnacle of mental health, professor.” 

“Excellent.” Minerva grinned, but her smile seemed a little bitter. “Does this mean you’re going to talk to me now?”

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Numpty.” she repeated. 

---- a/n: i was in the mood for angst tm also the ending feels a little rushed but it is 3am rip. im not gonna finish this series by christmas but my goal is new years. time exists in a vacuum anyway and is not real. ps. let me know what you think pls!! it gives me all the seratonin