#harry stop trying to be a hero

[rewrite-canon]

“[insert character] should have been evil!” let people be good and nice goddamn it.

[likeabxrdinflight]

tired of early 20-somethings acting like harry potter was never good or had no value in its day like shut the fuck up half of you weren't even there when it peaked

[writers-potion]

The classic betrayer

This is where everyone subtly knows that this guy's going to turn the other way.

The betrayer puts on a show for our heroes - kind, compassionate and supporting at first.

it just so happens that the villainthinks the heros are the bad guys.

make them actually likable.emotionally ruin the hero upon betrayal.

The remorseful traitor

whether he had bad intentions from the start or was deceived by others, the betrayer regrets his choices.

when he realizes his mistakes, it's too late to stop the evil, which introduces guilt.

throw the guilt and shame on the character.

even the protagonist can be a traitor! will others forgive him?

The Double Agent

this type of traitor will keep the readers wondering whether this guy is truly on your side.

keep your readers guessing. is that an evil smirk or a genuine smile? does he really love drinking, or is he just trying to get the hero drugged?

Snape in Harry Potter is a great example.

The guy can be good or bad - just keep balancing the two

Unrealiable narrators

these characters are not entirely betrayers, but horribly misinformed. they can make others appear like traitors - when in truth, they just have it wrong.

pit your narrow-minded narrator against his allies.

these characters are great for misunderstanding plots.

have your narrator do irreversible damage to the hero. would they forgive him?

Tragic betrayers

these are characters, due to their past wounds and trauma, cannot help but betray the group.

they confess the hero's secrets under physical/mental torment and doesn't have the backbone to do otherwise.

these characters can either be pitiful or frustrating would the hero still fight for the betrayer?

Play around with pov

you can have the readers know about the upcomong betrayal by switching points of view, building up anticipation to the moment of realization.

on the flip side, you can change povs in a way that the reader doens't see what's happening at the hero's back.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[cherubfae]

spidey snuggles || spider-man x reader

tags: sfw, gn!afab! spider-person reader, established relationships, injuries, comfort, slight angst, wholesome, fluff, spoilers for No Way Home and PS5 Spider-Man 2

Insomniac!Peter

He was still trying to find his normal after being merged with the symbiotic alien for so long. There were a lot of things that Pete regretted, things he had said and done. The uncontrollable and animosity he had shown both you and Miles. Peter had finally taken a small step back from being Spider-Man, as well as you, to allow his pupil his time to shine; to be New York's only superhero for a while.

Nightmares were an after effect of the symbiote. Most nights, Peter would be plagued with gruesome dreams. The images from his consciousness bleed into the real world only for a few seconds as he jolts awake. Remnants of his tortured imagination cling to his thoughts like the cold sweat on his skin. Instantly he's sliding his hand along the sheets beside him, relieved when he comes into contact with your warm body; turning to see you already awake. He'd woken you up again. Instantly you're collecting Peter into your arms, holding him as he begins to sob with deep, horrendous tremors. He does what he can to stay grounded. Focusing on your breathing, your heartbeat, the smell of your shampoo.

"Deep breaths, Pete. I'm here. I'm safe. You're safe. Everything is okay." Your voice is his anchor, keeping him from drifting off into the endless, unrelenting black sea. In his vulnerability, Peter doesn't want to stop holding you. Not just yet.

Insomniac!Harry

He's so so so tired constantly, especially with the treatments he's been undergoing. There's something so comforting to him, to be able to come home to you and melt into your waiting embrace. Absolutely adores the way his larger frame nuzzles into yours from where you lay on the sofa. The first few strokes of your hand on his cheek have Harry melting into a dopey-smiled, overexerted puddle.

"Hey honey," Harry grumbles tiredly into your chest. He felt like he hadn't slept in years, his body constantly feeling like it was being dragged across asphalt. Honestly, he was surprised he was even able to manage a greeting to you. Sliding his arms around you, he wiggles them from your waist to wrap cozily around your upper torso. "Missed you. Wanna nap...?" Already dozing off, Harry doesn't hear your response as sleep overtakes him. You smile softly, brushing his soft auburn hair and place a kiss to his head; resting your cheek atop his fluffy hair.

Insomniac!Miles

It had been a few weeks since college started, Miles is simultaneously super excited and super overwhelmed with trying to balance Spider-Man and his personal life. Gangs were on the uprising and with Peter taking a backseat, Miles has been working nonstop daily.

Unlocking your front door with the spare key you'd given him, Miles let's himself in. You lived closer to campus and it was easier for him to commute to morning classes by spending the night at your place and then spending the weekends back home at his Mom's.

"Hey honey." Miles smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's incredibly happy to see you, though his exhaustion is seeping through the cracks. The young man practically dragging himself to where you're relaxing in bed with a book. Ducking beneath the covers, Miles nuzzles his head against your tummy. "Just need to rest.. Nap with me?" He sleepily grins, the smile growing wider when you set your book aside. Sounds like an absolutely wonderful idea.

Tom!Peter

Sleep had been refusing to find him for the better part of a day and a half now. His hero work was getting a little sloppy and it was starting to really take its toll on him. Peter had been in and out of fights all day. First a robbery then an explosion and then some dude decked out in a mech suit. You had been there to help with the explosion before you had to whisk off to work. The abundance of crime New York had to offer seemed endless. On top of this, he was still dealing with the death of his aunt May, still grieving the loss of his only remaining family member. Even if time has passed him by and you remembered him. Grief comes in unsteady waves. He had given up so much, there was so much loss, and now he was trying to piece himself back together again. Peter would be ever thankful to have you by his side.

Today was another unsteady day for sure. Stumbling into your shared apartment window, he collapsed onto the bed with a heavy groan. His body hurts, his suit had taken considerable damage from flying debris during the explosion, and he was tired. Peter was certain he'd never been so tired in his life before; the type of exhaustion that seeps into your bones, your muscle tissue, and eats you alive until you're nothing but a worn down mess. He barely registers you entering the room, his senses dulled and weakened. You close the window and shut the blinds.

"I know you're tired, love. Go shower quickly and then we can get some sleep. I'll make you some food when we're up." You coo, stroking his scuffed cheek tenderly. Peter hails himself up like he's a pillowcase full of bricks. The shower feels nice but he's in a losing battle trying to keep his eyes open.

In fresh clothes, Peter falls into your welcoming embrace, snuggling into the fabric of your tee shirt. Your familiar scent caresses his senses. Instilling peace within him. He's out like a light, with his arms wrapped around you as tight as he can without harming you. Ever so scared you might slip away from him too.

Andrew!Peter

Tobey!Peter

"I'm so comfy. I never wanna move again." Peter giggles, nuzzling his cheek against your tummy. He sighs contentedly. Glancing up at you with those big beautiful brown eyes, a dopey grin melts onto his face. The one that you adore so much.

Running your fingers through his hair, Peter leans into your lovely touch. His fingers dance along your skin, mapping an imaginary path to your hand. Lacing your fingers together, Peter places numerous kisses to your knuckles humming a soft tune to himself. "You don't need to go anywhere, baby," you grin.

Wiggling down to him as best you can, you kiss his forehead. He giggles, melting against you, boneless, once more.

Thunder crashing across the sky pulls Peter out of his deep sleep. Blinking back sleep, he finds you curled up against him breathing even. Lightning flashes filling your shared bedroom with light. It illuminates your sleeping form, your tousled hair, and unbothered expression. He softly smiled, stroking your face with the back of his hand. Another ripple of thunder echoes throughout the apartment, rustling the old shingles and pipes.

Miguel O'Hara

Settling back down beside you, Peter collects you in his arms sighing deeply. You press closer to his chest, warm hands sliding around his waist to hold him to you. His mind is filled with the day's events. Erratic and chaotic. Nothing compared to the peace he felt in his soul when he laid beside you.

There was something so comforting about the lull of your heartbeat in his ears, the warmth of your body on his. Even in sleep you crave his closeness. If Peter can find comfort in anything, it's that.

He's grumpy and he's stressed most of the time. So he really appreciates when he's able to come home to you at a decent time. You two switch back and forth on who prepares dinner and tonight was your turn to cook, while Miguel took care of any dishes you made. Grilled steak, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables beckon him inside from the balcony. He was certain he had never smelled food so delicious before. Food always seemed to taste different to him when it was prepared by someone he loves versus how he makes it himself. Though, it's still pretty damned good then, too.

Grabbing a change of clothes, Miguel heads to the bathroom attached to your one-bedroom apartment. He closes the door and grimaces. His suit glitched just above his hip. Deactivates his suit, he's met with a minor gash inches from his hipbone. It definitely would need stitches. Washing his hands, he gathers some medical grade thread and a needle. Cleaning up what he could, Miguel sews up his wound expertly. He'd done this many times, though he knew you'd still worry. Especially since he had to practically force you to take today off. Admiring his handiwork, he hops into the shower before going out to meet you at the dinner table.

Dinner was wonderful. The few hours that followed involved being curled up together on the sofa watching a movie and then enjoying idle conversation when that finished. It seemed like it had been forever since you two were actually allowed to spend time as a couple. Protecting the universe from anomalies was often greedy of most of your free time.

|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||

[bridenore]

HD eight year fic recs : 50k+ words

Here are a few drarry eight year fic recs that are between 30k and 50k words. Posted in alphabetical order, as always.

You can access my rec lists for eight year fics that have less than 10k words here, between 10k and 20k here, between 20k and 30k here and between 30k and 50k here.

Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts by Sita_Z [28k]

Harry did not expect his Eighth Year to involve any more investigations of abandoned bathrooms. Nor did he expect to come across Draco Malfoy there, alone, bleeding and in late-stage labor. Arms Wide Open: Grimmauld Place by Sita_Z [36k] After leaving Hogwarts, Harry and Draco face an uncertain future, raising Scorpius and dealing with the wizarding world’s reaction to their situation. Sequel to Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts.

At Your Service by @faith2wood [95k]

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There’s only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic [88k]

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Beholden by @faith2wood [123k]

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

The Changing Lights by lazywonderland [142k]

Harry returns for an eighth year following the end of the war and realises that although he's put his own animosity towards Malfoy aside, no one else seems to have done the same. When a hex leaves his oldest rival in the body of a female and ridicule doubles, Harry discovers that his hero complex is a difficult thing to fight.

Exceeds Eggspectations by Elle Gray (LGray) [61k]

Eighth year. Winter. Christmas has been and gone. Harry’s just been dumped and so has Malfoy. There’s a stupid fake baby assignment to be done, and what’s the harm in doing it together, really, when life is this shit already? This is not slow burn, this is a roman candle pointed at a pile of dry twigs that represent your heart.

Firebond by Oakstone730 / @i-didnt-wanna-do-it​ [94k]

Draco is forced to tutor Harry in potions. A slight problem occurs.

Golden Age by @lol-zeitgeistic [52k]

The Celtic druids once made a decision that kept magic in abundance in Britannia, but they couldn’t account for the technological advances Muggles would make centuries later. Now magic is dying on the isles, and this is not a dark lord that Harry can fight. OR: Harry Potter doesn’t save the world this time, but he does get a lot of hugs.

Graceless Heart by shushu_yaoi_lj / @orange-peony​ [132k]

Harry is lost and broken after the war. He has gone to countless funerals, broken up with Ginny, moved back into Grimmauld Place—which feels darker and dirtier than ever before despite how much he tries to fix it. He feels lonely and desperate, but he won’t ask for help, and he still can’t cry. When he agreed to help the Aurors at Malfoy Manor over the summer, he thought that he would be breaking dark curses. Harry never thought that he would actually spend his days sorting out dusty books with Draco Malfoy, or teaching him how to cook. Little by little, as they begin to navigate their life post-war, Harry and Draco become intimate…in more ways than Harry could have ever expected.

Helix by Saras_Girl [92k]

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again. [2014 advent fic]

It’s No Great Mystery by @agentmoppet​ [57k]

Who on earth decided that bringing back the Yule Ball for their eighth year would be a good idea? It feels like the worst day of Harry’s life, watching everyone get glammed up like the war never happened, like the last Triwizard Tournament wasn’t such a colossal failure. And then it happens again. And again. And again.

Manticoria by @lol-zeitgeistic [70k]

In the dangerous days after Voldemort’s fall, Harry struggles to find a way to be with Draco—again. But as the magical world threatens to die all around them, it might be more difficult than he thought. Includes dying wards, dying beasts, and love struggling to live; sentient magic, wandlore, Founder lore, potion lore, and ward lore; and of course there is Zacharias Smith to ruin everything, as usual.

Mental by sara_holmes [156k]

Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

My Little Berserker by @aelys-althea  [105k]

Eighth year was supposed to be calm. Moderated. Peaceful, even. Draco returned to escape the chaos wrought upon his shambles of a life and Harry to flee the responsibility of a world that sees him as something greater than was truly possible. Hogwarts was a safe haven, right? At least it was until Hagrid comes up with the wonderful idea to introduce some additional members to the student body of the fluffier variety. Hagrid doesn’t do moderated - where’s the fun in that?

The Nightmare Club by Elle Gray [85k]

Hermione and Ron are going back to Hogwarts to do N.E.W.T.s, Ginny isn’t. Harry hasn’t decided, until he has, in front of the Wizengamot and now he’s responsible for Malfoy as well. A tale of enemies who learn to get along, get it wrong and get it on. Everything is purple, some things are on fire and no-one is sleeping properly. But don’t worry, there’s tea!

Not in the Hands of Boys by @fourth-rose [130k] *incomplete

Once the final battle is won, life must go on, although it can be even harder to master than death. Back at Hogwarts for his final year of school, Harry tries to cope with everything he's been through. As the world around him struggles for a way back to normality, he is forced to realise that in the long run, living takes a lot more courage than dying.

Objects of Desire by Azrael Geffen [400k+]

The dream team sign a magical contract promising to lose their virginities within the year, they soon fix on the objects of their desires, but will the bitterness left in the wake of the war prove too hurtful for love to exist?

Ocean of Storms by Bounding-Heart [113k]

The war is over and Harry has returned to help rebuild Hogwarts. He longs to move forwards, but the past refuses to let him go. The castle is full of ghosts: haunting nightmares, the deaths he couldn’t prevent, and the age-old rivalry that Draco Malfoy seems determined to maintain.

Owl Was Well by @fencer-x [66k]

Draco Malfoy is not an owl, really he isn’t. He simply assumes the shape of one on occasion when he wants to find a bit of privacy—a goal entirely thwarted because Harry Potter doesn’t understand you can’t just grab any old bird from the Owlery and force it to send your missives and deliver your packages.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy [66k]

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

red and green are complimentary colours by  ace_0fhearts [88k]

After the war Hermione manages to convince Harry to go back to Hogwarts for his eighth year. Expecting an uneventful year of classes and rooming with the other Gryffindor boys, he’s surprised when McGonagall tells him he’ll be sharing a room with Draco Malfoy. Now Harry has to get through a year of arguments and awkward silences. Or he would, if Malfoy would stop ignoring him and moping around the castle alone. Or: Draco and Harry fall in love through sleepless nights and late night quidditch games

Reparo by amalin [84k]

Voldemort’s final defeat does not mean Harry Potter’s troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it. 

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks [73k] 

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

The Silent World Within You by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [95k]

Harry only wanted Malfoy for one night, one birthday. It wasn’t meant to be anything more.

spins madly on by asofthaven [56k]

As part of his probation, Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts to complete his N.E.W.T.s. Gobstones, the political machinations of the Hogwarts student body, and one Harry James Potter captures Draco’s attention instead.

Things Worth Knowing by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [164k]

After the Battle, Harry thinks he’s left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco’s just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He’s hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems. And that’s not even addressing the fact that Potter’s got serious issues of his own, which Draco realises as he’s forced to share an Eighth Year dormitory room and several classes with the Gryffindor Git. If only they can make it through the year without killing each other, it should be all right, shouldn’t it?

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop [113k] 

Harry doesn’t mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn’t. It’s just – do they have to be so friendly? He’s not prejudiced, really he’s not. It’s just – they’ve got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him. When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

You’ve Got Owl Post by @slyth-princess [50k]

After discovering muggle romantic comedies during winter break, Pansy Parkinson and Luna Lovegood decide to launch an ambitious project called You’ve Got Owl Post which matches up students through an enchanted notebook so they can send letters to each other without knowing who is at the other end. It is an instant hit. Harry, without his friends knowing, is one of the first to join. And he rapidly finds a kindred soul on the other side of the pages. In real life, however, he is once again plagued by Draco Malfoy. After fighting in class, McGonagall has had enough. So, as punishment and a lesson, she assigns them the running of that years dueling club. Everyone, including Harry and Draco, assumes it will be a disaster. However, sometimes the people you think you know the best are the ones who can surprise you the most. A story of letters, bets, friendship, love, forgiveness, and discovering who you really are.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[halfbloodgf]

Can we talk about the fact that Severus Snape left everyone, both the characters and the readers, like this: 🤡🤡

I mean, no one knew wtf was going on with him. One moment u think he's bad, the next u think he's good. And then u think he's the villain again. But then he gives his memories to Harry and we all realize that he was the fucking hero all along.

In hp1, we think it's Snape who was trying to steal the philosopher's stone, or who tried to knock Harry off his broom. But then comes the end, and we find out that he stopped Harry from falling (saved his life) and was protecting the stone...🤡

We still hated him in hp 2 and 3...

In hp4 Harry suspects that Snape had the Dark Mark, and ends up discovering that he did. There's even the scene that Harry sees: Igor Karkaroff accuses Snape in court in front of the Wizengamot, saying he was a Death Eater, and we're all like😯😃 (finally know the truth!!). But then Dumbledore defends him😐🧍🏻‍♀️, and no one, not Karkaroff, not Harry, not us readers, understand anything. We don't know whether to trust him or not. So, again...🤡

In hp5 everything is confusing with him. We don't know if he wants to help Harry (occlumency lessons) or not. He calls Voldemort "Dark Lord" (only Death Eaters do), we see his worst memory, which, again, leaves us bewildered and not knowing what the hell to think of him now. Harry himself doubts that his father was a good person, even wondering if James didn't force Lily to marry him, and empathizes with Snape. Then the whole thing with the prophecies, and Harry trying to warn Snape about Sirius and his supposed kidnapping. The Order arrives to save Harry and his friends, which suggests that Snape warned them.

But along comes hp and the Half-Blood Prince, Snape appears to be helping Draco Malfoy with what the Lord entrusted him with —The scene where Bellatrix accuses him, tells him that she doesn't trust him, and then she is surprised:

In the books:

[...]Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?”

She hesitated. “I know he believes you, but…”

“You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?”

[...]

“And through all this we are supposed to believe Dumbledore has never suspected you?” asked Bellatrix. “He has no idea of your true allegiance, he trusts you implicitly still?”

“I have played my part well,” said Snape.

In the movies:

The line where he says “Dumbledore is a great wizard”, Snape is actually being smug and subtly saying he’s such a good actor (I mean, come on, the man deserves a fucking Oscar), he’s managed to deceive Voldemort so well that he has revealed his grand plan to him. He practically seems to be laughing at the double meaning of his own words, mocking and lying to the black sister's faces like the fucking boss he is. The way he's literally drinking a glass of wine while laughing at the Dark Lord. The whole scene is just excellent.

So at the end of hp6, Snape reveals to us that he was the half-blood prince for whom the fucking book is named, ends up murdering none other than ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, and we all learn that all this time his true loyalties were with the dark side...🤡

Oh no, wait! Hp7 arrives, Voldemort kills Snape :0 (Yes!), gives his memories to Harry, and Harry sees his memories and... (NOO😦😨😰😭💔💀). We found out he wasn't the bad guy. That, in fact, he was IN LOVE WITH HARRY'S MOM —"always" still hurts :')— That all this time he was our ally...🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

He practically played with all of us, with LORD VOLDEMORT, the Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix, Harry... well, WITH EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WIZARDING WORLD. And he did it as if he were:

Harry fucking Potter named one of his sons after him, which must have made a lot of people roll in their graves (James and Sirius out of anger, Snape out of laughter).

This mf literally woke up one day and said: "okay, here begins my reputation era bitches.😎 Let's leave a few of them looking like🤡🤡"

PD: Sorry if something is written wrong, english is not my language.

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Spider-Woman, NOT Ghost-Spider

This is a tip for people who want to go as canon as possible WITH THE MOVIES, since I feel a lot of people do this mistake because they look into the comics and mix things up.

If you want to call Gwen, Ghost-Spider in your fanfic/fanart/etc because you think is cool, go ahead! Go nuts! I'm not the canon police.

BUT-

In the movies, Gwen still calls herself Spider-Woman.

An explanation as to why this is important in the read more.

(Spoilers about the Spider-Gwen comics, I guess because I am not spoiling anything that came after 2019.)

When I say "important," I mean it in the stick-it-to-the-details type of deal; if you care about technicalities you care about this, but I know that's not the majority.

However, I do want to bring it up because the reason why Gwen switched in the comics, or rather, why chose Ghost-Spider of all things- is really neat and interesting story line that I feel a lot of people skip over when they 'chose' to call her that without knowing why she chose that name.

If you think Gwen has it rough in the movies, don't read the comics because they put this girl through the wringer.

Let's go a little bit before she chose that name.

As you can see, Gwen feels that she has always been marked by death, some way or another.

First her mother, then Peter, and is now hitting pretty hard after losing Spider-UK (is not Hobie, or Malala, I don't think he has appeared in the movies,) Noir and Karn, though arguably Billy was the one who hit her the hardest.

She went to other dimensions to tell their love ones that Billy and Noir passed away; it is implied how this is her way to try to make amends to what happened, make peace with herself.

But is not really enough, the topic doesn't leave her mind,

Death and pain certainly follow her often; she almost lost her dad for good, and she was definitely shaken after Harry got gravely injured precisely because he was always there for her.

That last panel never stops hitting hard for me.

There is just some quietness to it, about how no matter what she does, how hard she tried, Death continues to follow, one way or another. Even when she tries to be a hero, to do the right thing, death follows her.

In the comics, Gwen switches her name because she is studying in Earth-616 rather than her own dimension, so she switches names in order to avoid stepping in any toes.

So, in the movies, is kind of hard to think the switch would happen. Sure, Gwen is interacting with Jessica and other spiders, but believe me, the multiple spider-man haven't changed their names, so having Jessica in the spider society doesn't change much.

However, I do bring all of this because I think implementing this story line in the movies not only is feasible, it would be *amazing.*

The phrase "Death loves Gwen Stacy," not only hits hard for the Spider-Gwen in the comics, but for the movie counterpart too.

Think about it for a second; in the movies, Gwen feels she can't have friends because otherwise, they may lose them like Peter, she has convinced herself it can't work. And then. she goes to the Spider-Society.

And now she feels Gwen Stacy and Death always go hand in hand.

She learns how in so many universes, Peter is the one bitten, he is the one who lives, while Gwen Stacy dies, over, and over again. It almost seems like she is the outlier out of spite, how because she gets to live, everyone else pays the price.

Because Death loves Gwen Stacy, powers or not, that's not changing.

But at the end of the day-

And that's why, no matter what, she will continue fighting to protect her people.

[sitp-recs]

livvvv my rec goddess. i’ve recently developed an insatiable knack for draco doing little muggle things, like being obsessed with soap operas, or learning how to bake, or playing board games, or painting a house (??) etc etc. any recs as such perchance?? my eternal thanks x

Love this ask anon, “Draco in the Muggle world” can be such a fun trope! I tried to include a bit of everything but I feel like driving and cooking are very popular in fic, so there’s probably a lot of it here. I hope you enjoy these!

magic in the making by getawayfox (G, 2k)

I didn’t see Malfoy for a year after the trial. When Gin told me that, according to Pansy, he had opened a little posh bakery in Mayfair, I thought she was joking, so I went to see for myself.

Market Saturdays by iota (M, 3k)

In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love.

Muggle 'Drug Store Items' by loveglowsinthedark (E, 4k)

Malfoy's interest is caught by a certain Muggle drug store item. (Hint: Flavoured Condoms)

To Make A Way by cavendishbutterfly (E, 5k)

When Harry finds Draco in the back row of the cinema, he doesn't mean to accidentally befriend him. Or fuck him. Or catch feelings. The thing is, Draco only does casual.

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by thistle_verse (T, 14k)

Draco has finally found the perfect, rare piece to complete his collection. The only problem is that the item belongs to Harry Potter, the last wizard on earth Draco wants to ask another favour from.

The Tapestry of Kinship by khalulu (T, 15k)

Harry is at loose ends, Draco is good with needles, and Draco's young daughter wants to see a certain tapestry repaired. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will never be the same.

Tuesday Nights by firethesound (E, 15k)

The absolute last place Harry expected to see Malfoy was in a rundown Muggle cinema on a Tuesday night.

Rich Friend by iota (E, 18k)

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

Harry Potter and The Bisexual Awakening by Writcraft (E, 23k)

Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Harry felt lit up from inside as soon as he entered the bar. There were blokes dancing together, their bodies close to one another, not keeping a wary distance as Harry was always careful to do when he was near another man. God, he wanted this – wanted it so much he could taste it, a metallic tang of heat and desire. He suspected nothing would ever be the same again – especially when he saw who else was in the room.

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (M, 29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout (T, 30k)

Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works.

Open For Repairs by FeelsForBreakfast (M, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

(Un)wanted by aibidil (E, 36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy by magpie_fngrl (E, 37k)

Zacharias Smith writes a tell-all about the D.A. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are not happy about it.

Take A Chance On Me by mintaminta (E, 40k)

There's a DJ on RareFM with a secret. Or: the one with all the ABBA in it.

Nights With You by The_Sinking_Ship (E, 58k)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend. Now all Draco has to do is convince him.

Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl (M, 60k)

When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected.

Modern Love by tackytiger (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Running on Air by eleventy7 (T, 75k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I'm so glad I found a person who has Harry James Potter as a favourite character, he's my favourite character too and inspiration

Glad you enjoyed!

Harry has always been my favorite character in the books he's so special to me, and I hate the movies for doing him dirty.

He's sarcastic, clever, stubborn, resilient and an actually amazing wizard. He's a better strategist than Hermione but no one talks about it (I love Hermione, but she's good at memorizing books and solving riddles, not making battle plans). And he is so funny, in a more sassy way than Ron but their sense of humor really matches in the books and you see why they are such great friends (and I love their friendship).

Harry isn't some sweet hero or a paragon of any kind, he's angry, like, really angry, and I love that about him. He has every right to have a bad temper because his life sucks. By the final books he casts Unforgivables out easily, Snape is surprised he managed to cast Sectumsempra, but it really isn't surprising when it comes to Harry "hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through him like poison" Potter (a paraphrased quote from POA!)

But with how truly awful his life is he pushes forward with way less angsting than he could have pulled (like he has his angsty moments, and I love them too! I wouldn't have loved him as much without his angst, yes, even in OOTP). I find his mind so fun to be in and love the fact he is the narrator for the majority of the books. He's the kind of brave where he's scared but fear never stops him because whatever you threaten him with, he's had worse. I just really love Harry and whenever I try to read fics it's just not his character there...

One time, an irl colleague told me that out of the Golden Trio my personality reminded them most of Harry, and it made my week.

My love for Harry James Potter's character is a foaming-at-the-mouth sort of love where I want to dissect his brain but also cover him in a blanket and give him hot chocolate milk while whisking him away from all the adults who failed him.

I'm so glad to find more people who love him too.

[spider-stark]

THINGS CHANGE

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Your ex-boyfriend, Peter Parker, finds out that you're planning on going out with Harry Osborn, and he's definitely not happy about it.

Warnings - Sexual situations (no actual smut), slight degradation kink if you squint, angst

a/n - another random little thing I wrote about Peter in-between writing for Infinitely You. considering a part two, but we will see! lemme know what you think :)

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

“You seriously can’t expect me to be ok with this!” 

The sound of his voice had your blood boiling, anger instantly coursing through your veins as you realized just how domineering his tone had become. He was purposely trying to push you to your limit, seeing just how far he could go before you would finally break. 

“I don’t care if you’re okay with it, Peter!” You snapped at him, not bothering to even look over your shoulder at the boy as you both trailed through the halls of Oscorp, Peter following at your heels like a lost puppy. “And last I checked I don’t need to ask for your permission when making my own decisions.” 

“You can’t go out with him.” Peter grumbled from behind you, ignoring your words entirely. He respected your decisions, he really did. But it wasn’t his fault that you made such terrible ones, he thought to himself. “He’s a total dick.” 

The comment stopped you in your tracks, swiftly turning on your heel and looking up to stare directly at the annoying boy that refused to just leave you alone. “Guess you two have something in common then.” 

He narrowed his eyes at the gab. “What do you even see in him? I thought you hated his little rich kid attitude.” 

You hated the way he mocked your voice as he spoke. Hated the way he mimicked the phrase you had used to describe Harry Osborn so many times in the past. Yet, he wasn’t wrong.

You did hate the way Harry used to act around you–constantly flaunting his fathers fortune–expecting you to fawn over him like all the other girls that came his way. But things had changed after you took on an internship at Oscorp. Harry realized that his pompous act wasn’t working on you, and the closer the two of you got the more you realized it was just that–an act–and you had grown to like the person he actually was. 

“We both know that’s not who he really is.” Peter stayed silent, both of you knowing that he couldn’t argue with you. Harry was his best friend, and he was a good guy behind the flashy cars and his multibillion-dollar corporation. “And at least he makes time for me.” 

The comment had hit its mark, hurt flashing across Peter’s face as the words cut into him. You didn’t let yourself falter, didn’t let yourself feel the guilt that was starting to rise in your chest. He deserves it, you reminded yourself.  

“You know I always tried to be there for you,” his tone softened, his own irritation momentarily melting away as he began to recite the same spiel he had given so many times before, “but it’s complicated, people need-” 

“People need Spider-Man.” You cut him off, finishing the sentence for him. “And I get that.” You really did. People relied on Spider-Man, trusted in him that he would be there when they really needed a hero. “But I needed my boyfriend, Pete. And he was never there.” 

Things had been complicated since the two of you split, especially since neither of you had been willing or even able to cut the other out of their life. You were Peter’s biggest supporter, and Spider-Man’s, but you had grown tired of the constant suffering that came with being close to him. 

As much as you loved Peter, you couldn’t help but crave normalcy. Someone that could be there for you and make you a priority, something that Peter wouldn’t ever be able to offer. 

There was a beat of silence, the weight of your words still lingering in the air between the both of you, before he finally broke it. 

“He can’t make you happy.” It was a weak argument, and Peter knew that, but it was the only one he had left. 

“Honestly Pete?” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “You set the bar low. Extremely low. At this point I think I’d be happy just to have a partner that won’t crawl through my window in the middle of the night and bleed out on my carpet.” 

Pete rolled his eyes. “Okay, that literally only happened one time!” 

“Pretty sure one time is more than enough.” 

“Well there were plenty of other times where you didn’t seem to mind having me crawl through your window.” He shot you a smug grin, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ya know, for someone who seems so pissed that their boyfriend was Spider-Man, you sure loved fucking me in the suit-” 

Your eyes widened, your head jerking around to make sure that no one was around to hear his words. Peter didn’t seem to care either way, only smirking when he saw the blush that was starting to creep up your neck. 

“I’m not gonna lie,” he continued, once again pushing and pushing, just trying to see how far you’d let him go, “I always thought it was kinda hot. You’ve always been pretty desperate for me, but god, the way you’d act when I wore the suit?” He paused, looking you over as he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip. You hated how the simple action made your breath catch in your throat. “It was pathetic–how you were such a slut for Spid-” 

You roughly grabbed hold of his wrist, snapping at him to shut up in a hushed tone. He let you pull him towards the empty conference room to your left, that stupid proud grin still on his stupid face. 

“What are you trying to do? People can hear you, Pete! Do you want people to find out who you are?” Your attitude was much different than Peter’s, clearly not sharing in his apparent amusement as you tried to quietly pull the door shut. 

A part of you felt like you were getting emotional whiplash from this conversation, somehow jumping back and forth between anger, pity, and guilt while simultaneously trying to pretend like his words didn’t have an effect on you. But Peter knew you, he knew everything about you–and he was using that knowledge to his advantage. 

“You gonna try and get Harry to wear it?” You weren’t surprised that he once again ignored you, only caring to entertain the conversation you wanted out of. 

“What are you even talking about?” 

“The suit.” His tone was so matter-of-fact, so cocky and arrogant. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to pretend that you didn’t love when he acted like this. “I mean, he’s got enough money to find a replica somewhere, right?” 

You bit down on your bottom lip, your nerves building as you watched him take a step closer. “Shut up.” 

“I’m sure you’d love it, wouldn’t you?” Another step towards you, caging you against the closed door. You could feel his breath against your cheek, though you still refused to look at him. “Maybe you could convince him to wear the mask, yeah? Pretend like it’s still me fucking you.” 

Copper filled your mouth as you bit down on the inside of your cheek, fighting against the familiar warmth building in your stomach. He wanted to get you riled up, that much was obvious, and he knew exactly how to do it. Fuck you, Peter Parker, you had meant to say the words out loud, but they died in the back of your throat as you struggled to find your voice. 

Peter’s nimble fingers lifted to your face, forcing your chin up so you had no choice but to look directly at him. “Even if he wasn’t wearing the mask,” he cooed, the gentle tone not matching up with the dark gleam in his eyes, “we both know you’d still be thinking about me, right?” 

A shaky inhale on your part, desperately trying to maintain a cold stare. You couldn’t let yourself melt for him, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he still had so much control over you. “You’re intolerable.” 

“You’re not denying it.” He didn’t loosen his hold on your chin, not giving you a chance to break away as his other hand began to trail along your waist, fingers sneaking beneath the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin. “That when you’re with him, you pretend I’m the one touching you,” 

He tilted your head further, leaning just close enough that you could practically feel his lips graze against yours. “Pretending I’m the one kissing you.” 

The hand on your waist suddenly dropped to your hip, his thumb digging roughly into the flesh just hard enough that you were certain it would leave a mark. You gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the gasp that threatened to break free in response to his actions. Peter knew that you were holding back, fighting against your own instincts, and he planned on breaking you.

“Do you wish it was me?” Just barely a whisper, his lips now ghosting against your jawline as he rephrased the question, harsher this time, “Do you pretend that I’m the one inside you?” he shifted his hips as he spoke, pressing them against yours and letting you feel the very prominent bulge in his jeans. You didn’t have time to stop the high-pitched squeak that it had elicited, your face burning red as you accidentally gave him exactly what he wanted. 

“No. I don’t.” The words came out weak, as well as a little shaky, your eyes screwing shut to try and avoid looking at him. 

You weren’t sure how you felt anymore, the emotional motion sickness reaching an all-time high as you grappled with your feelings; just angry enough to scream at him, just horny enough to scream for him. 

Your pitiful attempt to deny him did nothing as he still worked his way down to your neck, lightly nipping at the sensitive skin, grinning against you when he felt you jump at the sensation. “I don’t believe you.” 

His fingers were now toying with your waistband, tugging against the material, begging for any sort of indication that you were okay with it. Both of you knew that you wouldn’t be able to turn him down even if you wanted to, and thankfully you weren’t gonna have to. 

A loud buzz against the door caused both of you to jerk away from each other, Peter stumbling back before you realized that it was your phone vibrating in your back pocket. You didn’t hesitate to reach for it, desperate for a distraction. 

Harry. 

Guilt washed over you as you saw his name appear on the screen, followed by a text telling you that he had finished up work early so he could take you out for dinner. It was a simple gesture, one that some wouldn’t think twice about, but the thought made your chest tighten. 

He was making time for you. 

Peter seemed to know who it was that texted you, able to put the pieces together on his own. That cocky mask fell as he watched you, listened to the way your heart skipped a beat when you thought of Harry. 

“Pete,” He recognized that tone, the same one you had used the night you called it quits, “I love you. You know that, but-” there was always a but, “I just–I can’t do this again. I need to pick what’s best for me.” 

“And Harry is what’s best for you?” It hadn’t been meant as a slight, but rather a genuine question. One he knew he wouldn’t like the answer to. 

“Maybe not.” You hesitated for a moment, dreading what you had to say next, “But I know that it’s not you. It can’t be you. Not again.”  

The words hurt to say as much as they did to hear. Neither of you wanted this, but as much as Peter hated to admit it, he knew that there was no other way. Not right now, at least. Not while the world still needed Spider-Man. 

“Okay.” Peter’s voice cracked, doing his best to force a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes, not in the way it used to. “So where does that leave us?” 

You tried to return the smile. “Friends?” 

“Does that mean I have to see you with Harry?” 

“Probably, yeah.” 

“Fine.” He feigned a look of disgust, earning a small laugh from you. “But I’m not gonna like him.” 

“He’s your best friend, Pete.” You snorted at his statement, assuming that it had to at least partially be a joke. 

“And you’re the love of my life.” Peter shrugged and tried to mask the pain that accompanied his words, while you tried to mask the sound of your heart breaking, “So I guess things change, huh?”

If you liked this, then please feel free to check out my No Way Home series, Infinitely You! :)

[sethcertified]

「 LEARNED FROM THE MOVIES ! 」 . . . 📂

harry potter : cedric diggory

wrd count : 3.4k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . cedric is hopefully in love with [name], but had been rejected time and time again. when he learns the rom com way (rizz) to winning a person’s heart, he tries it on [name]

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . cedric diggory & male reader

It was hopeless.

That was what Cedric repeated to himself as he laid in the mess he called a bed. It seemed that every time he tried to woo you over, you rejected him! His advances always fell flat no matter how hard he tried.

His countless confessions always ended up with you giving him an awkward smile and saying later; although, by now he knew later would never come.

A frown scorned his face at the sound of the dorm's door creaking open. Cedric turned away from the soft light that poured through the door. He didn't want anyone seeing him; the hero of hufflepuff, so defeated.

"Cedric?" The familiar, feminine tilt of the voice made Cedric turn over to see who was asking for him. There stood Cho Chang; her scarf wrapped around her neck snug with a concerned expression decorating her face.

Cedric knew why she was here, but he couldn't even bother saying anything to the girl. He was hurting too much.

Small steps rang out as they got closer to Cedric's bed until they eventually stopped. A small, gentle hand placed itself on Cedric's shoulder, "Cedric?" Cho's voice was comforting and Cedric finally looked her in the eye; eyes rimmed red.

"Oh, Cedric," Cho cooed. She had never seen Cedric so hurt, but so many rejections do take it's toll at one point. Cedric was her best friend, and to see him so depressed made her heart swell in pity. "It'll be okay. If [Name] can't see that you're an amazing guy; he's dumb.

“Besides, there's ton of other fish in the sea," Cho flashed the heartbroken boy a smile to try to cheer him up, but Cedric's frown deepened.

Cedric sat up from his laid out position, brushing Cho's hand off his shoulder, "I don't want anyone else, Cho. I love him!" Cedric ran his fingers through his mop of brunette locks, "I need him to accept my feelings. I can't live without him."

Cho nodded as she processed Cedric's words.

She knew that he wouldn't accept any other propositions about what to do if it didn't end up with you in his arms. With a purse of her lips, an idea hit her. You loved rom coms! It seemed every other week you would be watching some type of muggle rom com with a love struck look in your eyes in the Ravenclaw common room.

All she needed to do now was to teach Cedric about these romance movies, so he could learn the techniques the male leads used that won your heart!

With an ambitious glint in her dark eyes, Cho took Cedric's hands and dragged him up, ready to show him the way to your heart. As the two stormed off to the Ravenclaw dorm, preparing to go through your DVD collection, they ran into the source of this adventure; you.

Your hands planted against Cedric's chest, balancing yourself before recollecting your composure and observing the two. Cho's hair has developed a bit of frizz, and the usual perfect placement of Cedric's hair was all over the place.

"Cedric! Cho! What are you two doing?" You asked as you awkwardly moved your hands away from Cedric's hard chest to your sides.

Cedric's eyes danced your face, taking in your breathtaking features as his perfect, pink lips spread open in response; leaving his lips agape with no words leaving his mouth. You had that charming yet awkward smile that usually occupied your face, and Cedric's mind had drawn a blank on the excuse he had thought of.

In luck, Cho was able to cover for Cedric who was staring at you, gaping like a fish, "We were actually looking for you!" A grimace placed itself on your face as you remembered how a few hours earlier you had rejected Cedric, and figured that that was the reason they wanted to see you. You turned to the boy with an apologetic expression, "I'm really sorry about earlier. We're good, right?" Cedric nodded dumbly before Cho cut into the conversation,

"Actually, Cedric, here is taking muggle studies, and he is doing a project on muggle movies! I always see you watching them in the common room and thought you might help him!"

Oh!" You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, "Well, I feel kinda stupid now, but, yeah, I can let you borrow some of my movies." You began to waltz off to the dorm as Cho gave Cedric a first pump from behind your back.

Cedric didn't return the enthusiasm; his attention being transfixed on the warmth your hands had left on his robes from the two of you running into each other.

The Ravenclaw dorm hadn't changed from the last time Cedric went in there to hang out with Cho. Everything had stayed the same. Cedric inhaled; getting wafted by the smell of candles, books, and ink. It smelt like you. You disappeared into the boy's dorm before coming out will a tall, leaning stack of DVDs. As you stepped forward toward the pair, the DVDS wobbled, and Cedric rushed to catch them. The tip of his fingers brushed against yours as they leaned against his chest. He sent you a cheesy smile, "That was a close one."

You nodded in agreement and moved to set the stack of movies on the tabletop. Cedric dawned a small frown at the feeling of your fingers leaving his, but quickly covered it when you turned back around to the two, "Well, here's my collection! What kind of movies are you looking for?”

Cedric stayed silent until Cho elbowed him, "Ow!" He gritted his teeth as he held his hip in pain, "Uh, Romance movies?"

Your eyes practically sparkled at the mention as you smiled like a just won the lottery and quickly sprung into a ramble, “I love romance movies! Everybody makes fun of me for liking them as much as I do with me being a guy and all, but who says guys can't like romance movies? They're always like, 'That's gay; and I'm like, 'Guess what? I am, so fuck off; but still, it is so exhausting." The glow in your eyes died down as you remembered the interaction which Cedric took immediate notice to. He placed his hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, "Well, if you ever want some company or someone to talk to about romance movies; l'm here."

Your eyes softened and the sparkle in your eye came back. You couldn't help but feel bad for never giving Cedric a chance. Sure, he was every students' dream guy with his tall, muscular body, dreamy eyes, and perfect, honeycomb eyes, but you didn't know him enough to ever consider him as a romantic option. The voice in your head that had so far been screaming at you to get away from Cedric was quiet, and you couldn't help but start to understand why everyone loved Cedric.

Cho stood to the side as she watched the two of you gaze into each others eyes like the other had hung the moon and smiled to herself. Her job here was down, and she turned away with lithe steps in the direction of the girls dorm room; planning to tell all her friends about her matchmaker activities with Hufflepuffs' golden boy and Ravenclaws' certified filmbro.

Cedric caught Cho's departure in his peripheral vision and tried to fight the urge drag her back.

What kind of wingwoman ditches mid-seduction? Your gaze followed to where Cedric's was glaring at and found that Cho had left, "Oh, Cho left. Did she have to go somewhere?"

Cedric forced a smile as he cursed at Cho internally, "Yeah, had a... thing to do in the library." You nodded and turned to your pile, trying to brush off the feelings that had overcame you while looking in Cedric's eyes.

Said boy was peering over your shoulder as you separated the movies into two piles. His brows furrowed trying to figure out how you were deciding which one you were giving him, and how he would manage to make you fall for him with them. He tapped your shoulder, "How are you separating them?"

"I'm giving you my favorite romance movies," you pointed at the huge stack, "That's all of my movies including the ones l'm giving you, so I gotta sort them out." Cedric nodded his head but wanted to keep talking to you, "Which ones are your favorites? I want to hear your thoughts on them for my project." He would pat himself on the shoulder if he could. That was one good lie.

You could feel yourself about to spring off into a ramble and scolded yourself internally. Most people shunned you for your rambles, but for some reason you couldn’t quite place, you felt comfortable enough with Cedric to let go of your embarrassment about rambling, “Well, that’s a tough question,” you chuckled nervously, “I would say 10 Things I Hate About You, The Notebook, and Flipped.”

Your fingers clenched the new found DVD of 10 Things I Hate About You, “This one is just so fun to watch, you know? My favorite scene is when the main guy, Patrick, is singing infront of everyone during her soccer practice just to apologize to her. It’s so sweet.”

Cedric felt himself fall for you even more as your eyes glowed with love, “That’s what I love about romance movies! The guys are always so devoted to proving their love. In The Notebook, he writes her a love letter everyday for a year.”

You spun around back to your collection, scouring for the other two movies. Your hand grasped the DVD for Flipped and you handed it to Cedric, “In this one, he plants a tree for her because the one she loved got cut down.” Your hands filtered through the pile as you searched for The Notebook before finally finding it, “Well, that’s all of them. I hope your project does well.”

Cedric traced the spine of the movies as he nodded nervously but with a goal set in place in his heart. If he could show you that he loved you by doing those things, you might just finally accept his feelings. He gave you a quick, "Thank you" before leaving you and preparing for the journey up ahead.

╰┈➤

It had taken a few try's but Cedric had figured out how to play the movies you had given him. He sat in-front of the movie that was starting with a journal and pencil in hand. The first movie was, The Notebook; and Cedric was ultra-focused on it. He remembered how you spoke so highly of the letters Noah had written Allie, and looked at the crisp, lined-sheet of paper. The quill that rested in between his fingers felt like a testament to his love for you. All he had to do know was write you something that would take your breath away.

Cedric's quill danced along the paper in swirls and loops as cursive took over the page. He wanted to make the letter look nice for you. His fingers were clenching the quill so hard to the point pain shot out of his finger tips. Cedric ignored the pain in his fingers as his letter neared to an end.

Cedric's fingers burned red as he dropped the quill onto his bed. His eyes scanned the now finished letter over and over; trying to guarantee it was perfect before he sent it off to you. With a pleased smile, Cedric set off to the owlery for you to open the letter tomorrow during breakfast.

And before he knew it, breakfast had arrived.

Cedric's eyes were latched onto you as he played around with the food on his plate anxiously. Cho sat next to you, sparing glances at Cedric every so often. Cedric had told Cho about what would happen during breakfast, and she was scouting your reaction for him.

The owls swept into the dining hall in unison, and Cedric felt his chest swell with anxiety. It wasn't exactly anonymous with the timing of it all, and knowing your brains, it wouldn't be difficult for you to figure out it was Cedric who wrote the letter; in fact, it wouldn't be difficult at all.

Your owl dropped the rolled up piece of paper onto your empty plate as it flew over your head.

Cedric had tied the paper together with a [favorite color] ribbon for more appeal, and so he could pin point that it was his letter you were opening.

He watched as your fingers delicately untied the ribbon. The letter unraveled and you began to read the heartfelt words pour out onto the paper:

"Dear [Name],

There are many things I would like to say to you, but there's only so much room on a piece of paper. That doesn't mean I didn't try though!

You are everything I have ever wanted and so much more.

Whether it's your smile or your sense of humor or your desire to please everyone around you; you have made me fall for you. And trust me when I say; I fell hard.

I didn't know what loving someone meant until I met you. I've had crushes in the past, but none of them have made me feel the way you do. You make me feel like I'm the greatest wizard in the world, and I will never be able to thank you enough for that.

I'm running out of paper, so l'll make this quick:

I love you.

Always yours..

Your eyes lifted off the paper and flickered to where Cedric sat. It was a quick glance, but it made Cedric's heart race in an emotion between hopefulness and nervousness he couldn't quite discern.

Cho's squeals rang in your ears as your mind raced. Of course you knew it was Cedric who had written the letter. The timing couldn't have been a coincidence, yet that feeling of refusal that usually swept through you when Cedric made his advances wasn't there this time. It shocked you, but you couldn't ignore the blossoming feeling in your heart.

You were falling for Cedric Diggory.

Your eyes flickered back to where the boy sat at the Hufflepuff table. Cedric was gazing at you with that look in his eyes he usually held when he confessed his feelings for you, and you couldn't help the soft, tight lipped smile that stretched across your face at the sight.

If this meant what you thought it did than you were more than enthusiastic for what was to come.

╰┈➤

Game day was always nerve-wracking for Cedric. The whole of Hufflepuff depended on him to make them proud, but today only one person's opinion mattered to him; yours.

The second movie you had given him was 10 Things I Hate About You, and now it was time for him to recreate the iconic scene you said you loved.

The mic shook in his hand as he waltzed out onto the stands. Everyone was there with rumors spreading about Cedric doing something special, and Cho had guaranteed you were there too. With a shaky breath, Cedric walked out onto the stadium as the steady instrumental of 'Can't Take My Eyes Off of You' began to play.

He closed his eyes as the words of the song poured out of his mouth. Cedric was by no means a good singer, but if this is what it took to get you in his arms, he would sing for the rest of his life. Cheers followed his movements as he pointed at where you sat. You were covering your face with your hand, but your eyes were crinkled in joy.

The words flowed out easier as Cedric's eyes stayed focused on you instead of the hoard of students watching him. His movements became more relaxed as he danced around on the stadium's seats before sitting among the crowds as the chorus came to an end. Cheers drowned out the stadium hurting both your and Cedric's ears. Cho pushed your hand away from your face revealing the big toothy grin that had taken over the lower half of your face. It was the happiest Cedric had ever seen you before and he mirrored your smile.

Teachers were rushing toward where Cedric sat amongst the crowd, but he could've cared less for the scowls on their faces and the strides they took toward him. Stage 2 was a success, and Cedric couldn't help the tsunami of hope washing over him that after stage 3, you would finally be his boyfriend after all these years of trying.

Unbeknownst to Cedric, his hope wasn't too far off. The letters he had been sending you since that day in the great hall sat under your bed in a beautifully decorated box you had made specifically for them, and your face held a certain warmth as you watched the teachers pull the boy by his arms away from the crowd.

You were in love with Cedric Diggory.

╰┈➤

The wind blew in your hair as you stood in the middle of the green, newly-cut grass field behind Hogwarts. In the letter you had been given today from a certain Hufflepuff boy, a riddle had directed you to where you now stood. Suspicions of what could be going on had racked your brain since you received today's letter from Cedric. The third movie you had given Cedric was Flipped, and if he continued his current pattern, he would be planting a tree right here for you.

Your fingers twitched against your leg as you searched the area for Cedric. You considered yourself a patient person, but at the moment, all the patience you once had was gone.

To your relief, Cedric was walking toward you; his fist clenched by his side. A seed rested in his palm. He had taken the proper precautions for planting the seed earlier before your letter was delivered, and now was the time.

The sound of footsteps coming toward you caused you to turn around. Cedric walked toward you as you waved at him with a dorky smile, "Hi."

"Hi." Cedric cleared his throat awkwardly, catching your attention, "| guess you already know why I'm here, but, uh, here I am anyways.

And I'm sure you already know what is going on His voice shook as he continued, "I have loved you since the moment I saw you, and I know you wouldn't let me show it, but I couldn't let that stop me. I know that in the past you've rejected me and you might now, but I need to do this."

You nodded as Cedric opened his fist to reveal the dark, small seed that rested against his palm, "| want to be with you. I want to keep writing love letters to you, and doing embarrassing things just to make you smile even if it means I get detention. If- if you'd like that, please take this seed."

Your eyes fell onto the seed as your hand reached out to take it, “I'd like that. I'd like that a a lot actually.” You took the seed out of his hand; examining it, "I must say, Diggory, you really know how to win a guy's heart."

Cedric laughed as he took you in his arms relief taking over him, "I learned from the best."

"True." you added with a small giggle, "I do want my movies back though."

"No way." Cedric joked as he shook his head, "| like them too much now to give them back."

"Don't press your luck, Diggory. l've rejected you before, and I can reject you again" You playfully glared at the boy who was just grinning at you as giddy as ever, "Okay! Fine! We can share."

Cedric smiled against the top of your head as daydreams of laying with you took over his mind while the two of you watched one of your many rom coms.

"We really should plant this tree now." you whispered.

"Yeah, we should"

The two of you separated away from the hug as you bent down to the freshly dug hole in the ground. Cedric's hand cupped yours as you placed the seed into the hole, his fingers interlocking with yours, "I love you"

"I love you too."

Cedric couldn't help but kiss you like he had dreamed of doing all these years. It was as heavenly as he had imagined, and couldn't help but thank the movies that had helped him win you over and into his arms.

✎ notes . . . yes, this is a repost. tumblr deleted my old acc >:( （ 𖦹◞◟） 👖˖ ♪

©️ sethcertified 2023

[ghaniblue]

For the Drarry Creative Collective prompt: almost. 545 words. Have some Drarry heartache.

When Harry returned Draco's wand (not personally, he had an owl deliver it) Draco almost sent back a letter of thanks. Instead, he got a new wand and decided to forget about the whole ordeal.

When Draco was invited to his first fundraiser after the war (because Malfoys may no longer be society darlings, but they were still very, very rich), Harry was there, flanked by Granger and Weasley, lurking near the champagne fountain and generally trying to be one with the wall. Draco almost went over there to poke at him for old time's sake, to liven up this shindig with some fisticuffs, but instead he gritted his teeth and pretended to be interested in what Mrs Shobrooke was prattling on about.

When Pansy took up with Luna Lovegood, of all people, Draco was suddenly forced to socialise with the Gryffindor set. He almost managed it without incident. Just once, he tripped Harry into tumbling ass over tea kettle into a blackberry thicket. Harry may be a war hero and saviour of lives from fiery infernos, but he was still an insufferable tosser.

When Draco was called into the Ministry for a meeting with the head of the DMLE, he almost ran, convinced that someone had finally remembered his part in the war and Dementors would be coming for him after all. Instead, he walked into the office on shaking legs and accepted his new partner, Harry Potter, with barely a raised eyebrow.

When Draco got injured on the job, Harry was there when Draco woke up in the hospital, slumped in a dreadfully uncomfortable St Mungo's chair, with several days of stubble darkening his jaw. "You arsehole," Harry said, squeezing Draco's hand, "don't you fucking dare do that again."

"Love you too," Draco murmured, slipping back into potion-induced slumber with a smile on his lips. 

When it's been three years of working together, drinking together, bleeding together and almost being friends, Harry leaned close in the pub one evening and Draco's heart stopped. He could smell the alcohol on Harry's breath, feel Harry's hand on his arm. "Hey," Harry said, "can you reach the crisps behind you? I need to soak up this beer or Ginny will have my bollocks when I come home."

When the papers announced the upcoming nuptials of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley, Draco got rip-roaringly drunk, made out with half the men in the Muggle club, and proposed to Pansy. Thank Merlin she laughed in his face.

When all wedding vows were spoken and rings exchanged, Harry stumbled into Draco at the bar. He was flushed and grinning, shirt half unbuttoned and wearing his tie as a headband. He looked like a pirate. "Draco," he slurred, "how are you still sober? I've been drunk since breakfast. You need to catch up."

Three shots later, Harry tilted his head, blinking rapidly, and said, "You know, it's funny. There was a time when I almost thought I had a crush on you." 

"Hilarious," Draco said, around the gaping chasm opening up in his chest. "If you'll excuse me, I think I might vomit." He staggered away from happily drunk, happily married Harry and almost made it to the toilet before being violently ill all over the bathroom tiles. 

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: The Weight Of Words

Request: I wanted to request a harry hook x plus size reader (who's the daughter of Peter Pan and Wendy Darling) and harry kinda hates her at first.

Reader: Female

Word count: 1722

Average reading time: 6 min 15 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains themes of body image insecurity, bullying, and emotional intensity. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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Y/n Pan walked through the halls of Auradon Prep, a place where heroes and villains once again live amongst each other, with her head held high despite the nagging insecurity gnawing at her. As the daughter of Peter Pan and Wendy Darling, she holds a great legacy. She was known for her caring and nurturing nature, always there to lend a helping hand or offer a kind word. People often say that she is just like her mother: brave, adventurous, and responsible, all while maintaining a magical sense of imagination.

But despite the warmth she radiated, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of self-doubt when it came to her body. She had a bit more weight to her then the average princess, and while she embraced many things about herself, her weight was a source of insecurity that sometimes overshadowed her confidence.

Harry Hook, the son of Captain Hook, was a constant thorn in her side. The hatred between their fathers seemed to have transferred to them, with Harry taking every opportunity to remind Y/n of her flaws. He saw her as nothing more than the daughter of his father's sworn enemy, and he used her insecurity to his advantage.

As Y/n walked through the crowded hallway, Harry stepped in front of her, blocking her path. His signature smirk was firmly in place.

"Watch where you're going, Pan." he sneered, his eyes raking over her form with a judgmental gleam. "Try not to take up the whole hallway next time."

Y/n's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She bit back a retort, knowing it would only fuel his taunts. Instead, she pushed past him, keeping her focus on the end of the corridor where her friends awaited.

"Hey, Y/n! Over here!" called Jane, waving her over.

Y/n plastered on a smile as she joined her friends, but the sting of Harry's words lingered.

"Don't let him get to you," Evie said, placing a comforting hand on Y/n's shoulder. "He's just trying to get under your skin."

"I know," Y/n sighed. "It's just... sometimes it's hard not to let it affect me."

"You’re beautiful just the way you are, Y/n," Carlos added. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Despite their reassurances, Y/n couldn't shake the hurt. Harry's words echoed in her mind, feeding the insecurities she tried so hard to suppress.

-----

Days turned into weeks, and Harry's cruel remarks continued. Each encounter chipped away at her confidence, but she refused to let him see how much it affected her.

One afternoon, as Y/n was heading to the library, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Harry, his expression unreadable.

"Pan." he called out, his tone less biting than usual.

She stopped but didn't turn around. "What do you want, Harry?"

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice softer. "It's important."

Y/n turned slowly, crossing her arms defensively. "What is it now? Another insult? Another way to make me feel like less?"

Harry's eyes softened, guilt flashing across his features. "No. I... I wanted to apologize."

Y/n blinked, taken aback. "Apologize? For what?"

"For everything," he said, stepping closer. "For the things I've said to you, the way I've treated you. I was wrong."

Her heart raced, a mix of confusion and anger bubbling up. "Why now, Harry? Why the sudden change of heart?"

Harry's gaze dropped to the ground for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Because I see you now." he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "I see how my words have hurt you, and I hate myself for it. You're not your father, Y/n, and you don't deserve the things I've said."

Y/n stared at him, searching his face for any hint of deception. "Why should I believe you?"

Harry's expression grew even more pained. "Because... I need to be honest about something else too." he said, taking a deep breath. "I was scared. Scared of what it meant to care about you, beyond just hating you because of your father. The truth is, it was easier for me to lash out and insult you than to confront how I felt."

Y/n’s brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I was terrified of falling for you." Harry confessed, his voice cracking slightly. "I hated that you were the daughter of my father's sworn enemy, but more than that, I was afraid of how much I cared for you. So I pushed you away, hid behind my insults, thinking it would make it easier to stay distant. But it only made things worse."

Y/n's eyes widened, her anger giving way to a deeper understanding. "So, you were scared of loving me?"

"Yes." Harry admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was scared of what it would mean, of how it would change everything. I’m sorry for letting that fear turn into cruelty."

Y/n looked at him, processing his confession. "And now?"

"Now," Harry said, taking another step closer, "I want to make things right. I want to show you that my feelings have changed, that I want to be honest with you, and that I’m willing to work on it whatever it takes."

Her heart pounded, caught between lingering hurt and slight hope. "How can I trust you?"

"Let me prove it." Harry said earnestly. "Give me a chance to show you that I’m not the same person I was before. I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make up for how I’ve treated you."

Y/n's defenses began to soften, though her trust was still fragile. "We'll see, Harry. Actions speak louder than words."

Before she could say more, Harry gently took her hand, his touch surprisingly tender, his eyes so intense it nearly made her knees buckle. "I understand darling. And you're truly the most beautiful being I have ever had the honor of laying my eyes on, Y/n. Every single part of you."

Her breath hitched as he moved even closer, his hands resting on her shoulders before trailing down her arms and wrapping around her waist. "Harry, what are you doing?"

"I'm making it up to you." he murmured, his voice raspy and low, filled with emotion. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses along her jawline, moving to her neck, and whispering against her skin. "I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused. You deserve so much better."

Y/n's heart raced, a mix of confusion and longing flooding her senses. She felt his hands caress her sides, his touch gentle and reverent. "Harry..."

He pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes with a depth of feeling she hadn't seen before. "Let me show you how beautiful you are." he whispered, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss.

Completely overwhelmed, Y/n felt tears streaming down her face. She was defeated, all the pain and frustration boiling over. Harry kissed her tears away, his lips soft and comforting against her skin.

"Don't cry, darling." he whispered. "Please, let me make it right."

"I can't help it." she choked out between sobs. "It's all been too much. And... and I'm too heavy for you."

Harry's brow furrowed in concern as he wrapped his arms around her. "Y/n, darling. You're not too heavy."

"You don't understand," she whispered, her voice filled with distress. 

Before she could protest more, Harry scooped her up with ease, cradling her against his chest. "Harry, put me down." she insisted, her voice shaky and weak.

"Not a chance darling." he said firmly, holding her tighter. "I’m not putting you down, you’re coming with me."

Y/n clung to him, feeling the strength in his arms as he carried her through the hallways. Her mind racing, but she couldn't deny the sense of safety and comfort that his embrace provided.

-----

When they reached Harry’s dorm room, a quiet serenity settled over them, contrasting with the whirlwind of emotions that had been swirling inside Y/n. Harry gently guided her to sit on his bed, his touch so tender that it felt like he was handling something incredibly delicate. He took a seat beside her, his gaze unwavering as he reached for her hands.

The warmth of his fingers intertwined with hers was comforting, a subtle promise of support and affection. "Y/n, you’re perfect as you are." Harry said softly, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that spoke of both sincerity and regret. "Your weight doesn’t change that."

Y/n’s heart ached at his words. She looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or pity, but all she found was a deep, genuine concern and love. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "I don’t know if I can trust you, Harry."

Harry’s expression softened even further, and he leaned closer, his breath warm against her face. "Then let me earn it," he said, his voice a low, earnest plea. "Let me show you every day how much you mean to me."

Without waiting for a response, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was tender and full of longing. The kiss was slow, a deliberate dance of emotions, as if he was trying to convey all the words he couldn’t find into that single, intimate moment. The softness of his lips and the gentle pressure of his kiss sent shivers down Y/n’s spine, igniting a flicker of hope deep within her.

As their lips moved together, Y/n felt her defenses start to crumble. The warmth of Harry’s affection wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, and for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of a future where she was truly cherished. She melted into the kiss, feeling the depth of his apology and the sincerity of his feelings.

When they finally broke apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers. The closeness of their faces, the shared breath, and the gentle smile on his lips were all part of a silent promise. Y/n could see the unwavering commitment in his eyes, and a small, hopeful smile tugged at her own lips. "You’re forgiven, Harry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But you’ll have to keep proving it."

Harry’s eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and mischief. "Oh, I intend to, darling." he said, his tone playful yet earnest. "Every single day for the rest of my life."

From that moment on, Harry’s actions spoke volumes. He made it his mission to uplift Y/n’s spirits, to remind her of her worth with each passing day. Whether it was through small, thoughtful gestures or heartfelt conversations, he showed her, time and time again, how much she meant to him. His constant efforts to cherish and support her gradually helped Y/n rediscover her own self-worth, and with each day that passed, the foundation of their love grew stronger, rooted in trust, understanding, and an unwavering devotion.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

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Requested by: Anonymous

[lacrise666]

Harry Potter did not go on to be an Auror.

After 18 years of bloodshed and battle, he simple didn't want it anymore.

He didn't want to see his family fall into curtains and his friends get possessed and pedestrians get slaughtered.

He no longer could bare the brute of the reliance that the world held on him. He no longer could withstand the flashing lights of wizard paparazzi and the degrading words of Rita Skeeter.

He couldn't stand being the Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. The Hero.

He could only stand to be Harry.

Just Harry.

Harry who, after finishing his 8th year, declined the offer from the ministry to automatically become an Auror. Harry who, after taking a bit to think about it, realized he didn't know anything about himself. Harry who, after hugging everyone goodbye, took a year away from Britain and traveled the world, intent on finding out who exactly he was outside of his 'birthright'.

And it was time well spent.

He adored Quidditch, but he craved to be out playing football and trying to see how far he could kick the ball.

He devoured Treacle tart, but he found an odd obsession with pumpkin flavored desserts and an affinity for baking them.

He liked girls, but he loved boys and dated a few before heading back home.

And after that long year of travel where he thought he had learned everything about himself that there was to know, upon his return, Harry learned one more thing.

Draco Malfoy.

It had been a random Tuesday, just days after he had gotten back, when an announcement in the Daily Prophet informed him that Dracos house arrest was finally up and he could now leave the confines of Malfoy Manor.

And that had been enough. That little bit of information had had him pulling on his trainers and walking out the front door.

After a dazed trip to the Manor, one that he would never really know how he even got there, Harry had knocked on the door perhaps a tad bit too insistent.

Enter Draco.

Draco who was more pale than ever. Draco who still had the prettiest grey eyes Harry had ever seen. Draco who had tufts of snow white hair sticking up in every other direction, almost as if, even in his spare time, he loved to mock Harry.

Draco who was wearing a night robe and a tired (but slightly surprised) glare.

Oh, yeah, it was 6 a.m..

And after a sheepish apology and what was basically Harry inviting himself in for tea, they caught up with one another.

Well it was more Harry sharing his year away and Draco sharing light hearted stories about his peacocks and this one time where he was allowed to have a few people over but that didn't stop Harry from hanging onto his every word.

And then began the weekly visits.

Mostly spent at Draco's because he was still adjusting to being able to leave but Harry would gladly go where Draco wanted to be.

But then the visits became an every Saturday and Sunday.

And then a Wednesday got thrown into the mix.

And then it was an every other day.

And then Harry was at Malfoy Manor on another Tuesday, Draco actually expected him this time, and he was holding a bottle of wine.

He had been there the night before and the night before that and the night before that. Their last bottle had been demolished and it was Harry's turn to provide the alcohol.

They finished the new bottle that night.

Harry woke up in an unfamiliar bed with a heavy weight on top of his body and white hair tickling his nose.

After that morning, their visits really were no longer visits but simply two people living together.

So, no, Harry didn't fulfill his 'dream' of being an Auror.

He lived at Malfoy Manor.

He played football in their large lawn and scared the peacocks.

He baked pumpkin desserts and all their friends came over to try them.

He had a boyfriend.

He had Draco and he was Harry.

Just Harry.

[justsomewritingblog]

The Hero's Mission

Request:  None

Requested By:  Nobody

Prompt: “You're the hero, huh? I guess that makes me the villain."

Pairing:  Tom Riddle x Gryffindor!OC/reader

Summary:  The death of The Boy Who Lived requires the need of the Time Turner to change Tom Riddle for the better, saving dozens in the process. A Gryffindor has a different plan in mind, however.

Warnings:  mentions of death and murder

A/N:  Sorry for the wordcount. Not sorry for the Tom Riddle.

Word Count:  13K+

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

He really did it.

Voldemort killed Harry Potter.

The world seemed to have screeched to a halt, everyone staring in disbelief at the dead boy.

The Dark Lord cackled.  “I’ve done it!  I killed The Boy Who Lived!”

Red flooded my vision.  I pulled out my wand, marching forward.  Just as I raised it to cast a spell, my arm was grabbed and I was dragged back into the castle.  I fought against it, turning to point my wand at whoever had a hold of me.

My eyes widened and I stopped.  “Professor McGonagall,” I breathed out quietly.

“Albus only wanted this used if absolutely necessary, but I believe this is the only way,” she said, letting go of me and reaching into her robe.

I blinked at her in confusion.  “Professor?”

She pulled out a chain, a tiny sand-timer dangling from the bottom.  Looping it around my neck, she looked me in the eyes.  “This is a Time Turner, allowing you to travel back in time.  You’ll need to return to the year 1945,” she told me.  “There is a young man there by the name of Tom Riddle.”  She looked back to where the battle had taken place, the sound increasing.  “He will become Lord Voldemort.”  Her gaze turned back to me, holding a shine of sternness, as well as concern.  “You need to go back and change him for the better.  It will save many lives.”

“Professor, I can’t-”

“You must, Miss King.  There are no other options.”

“But why me, Professor?”

She regarded me for a few moments.  “You will know, dear.”  Her eyes dropped to the time turner.  “The protection charm around that has been taken off, allowing you to go back more than five hours.  Take it and turn it backwards fifty times.  That should take you back to the right year.”

The noise got louder.

The Headmistress turned to me.  “Hurry, dear.”

I nodded, grabbing the time turner.  I began to spin it, counting up to fifty.  Once done, I looked up, staring at the castle wall in front of me.

It was similar to the wall I had been in front of before, though this wall was intact and clearly newer.  It possessed less scratches and burn marks.

Students walked past me and I quickly realized I stood out like a sore thumb.

Muttering a quiet “multicorfors” I waved my wand over my garments, making them look appropriate to the time period.  I stuffed my wand back in my robe, looking around.

Where to start?

A group of students walked by me.

I quietly slipped into step a few paces behind them, looking around casually in an attempt to not seem like I was obviously following them.

They unknowingly led me into the Great Hall, sitting down at their tables.

I stopped in the doorway, looking around for the Gryffindor table.  Spotting students wearing red ties, I strode over, trying not to seem suspicious.  Sitting down, my gaze raked over the room.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were behind me, the Slytherin table in front.

I scanned the Slytherin table for anyone that looked suspicious or evil.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I frowned, about to pause my search to eat, when my eyes landed on a boy seated amongst the Slytherins.

He was sitting up straight, talking with the people around him.  He had a lean figure, dark hair that fell over his forehead on one side and features that looked- at least from where I was sitting- like the perfect blend of soft and hard.

I stared at the boy for a few moments, completely sucked into his demeanor and appearance.

He was talking to the people around him, looking at one of his housemates.  His expression shifted slightly and he lifted his eyes, his focus landing almost instantly on me.

“-looking at?”

I whipped my head to the side to face the girl sitting next to me, grateful for the interruption.  My cheeks coloured slightly, no matter how much I tried to fight it.  “Me?  Nothing, I was just-” my eyes, quite without me telling them to, drifted back to the Slytherin table for only a fraction of a second.

They didn’t even have enough time to focus on anything.

“I have an idea…” one of the girls, sitting across from the other, said.  She smirked as she stabbed something with her fork.

“What?”  I recoiled.  “I was just getting used to my surroundings,” I said.

It was technically half true.

“I thought I didn’t recognize you,” the other girl said.  “Are you new to Hogwarts?”

I paused.  “Yeah.”

“What year are you,” she questioned.

“Seventh year.”

“It is a bit unusual for someone to join Hogwarts so late in their schooling,” the other said.

I cleared my throat.  “Well, I was transferred from a different school…..” I trailed off before quickly introducing myself.

“Nice to meet you, King.  My name is Margaret,” the girl sitting diagonally from me spoke.  She nodded her head to the girl sitting next to me.  “This is Joan.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Joan greeted.

I nodded.  “The pleasure is mine.”

“Class will be starting soon…” Margaret informed.  “Do you have your books?”

I faltered.  “Uh…no, I-I don’t.”

“You can borrow ours,” Joan assured.  She nodded her head at the brunette across from her.  “Margaret and I always sit next to each other.  You could sit with one of us, if you wish.”

My eyebrows furrowed.  “How many students can sit at a desk?”

“Two.”

I turned my head to Margaret.

She went on.  “You can sit with Joan.  I will find another seat.”

“Oh!  No- I can’t.”  I lifted my hands.  “I would hate to split you two up.”  I shifted my gaze between them.  “Is there an empty desk behind you?”

“There is.”

“Then I’ll sit there.”  I shrugged.  “No worries.”

They gave me confused looks.

I frowned.  “What’s wrong?”

“You…” Margaret trailed off.

“You say things in a most unusual way, King,” Joan said.

I pursed my lips.

Oh yeah.

“I… apologize,” I said, though it sounded more like a question.

They smiled.

“Come.  Let’s head to class.”

I followed their lead, standing with them.

A lot of other students were rising to their feet as well, presumably also heading to their classes.

My gaze drifted once again to the Slytherin table, seeing the boy already standing, scanning the crowd.

His eyes met mine again.

I quickly snapped my head back towards my classmates, wincing slightly at the pain my neck had received for it.  Following their lead, I stubbornly kept my gaze intentional, only allowing it to drift to the halls of the school, so familiar and yet so strange.

“Our first class is Potions,” Margaret informed.

I grimaced behind her back, quickly wiping the expression away when Joan turned around to face me.

“It is taught by Professor Slughorn,” she added.

I nodded, taking in the information.

The girls pushed the door open, stepping through.

“We usually sit here,” Margaret informed, gesturing at a desk in the middle of the room.  She turned to me.  “Are you certain you would not prefer to sit with one of us?”

I nodded.  “Positive.  I’ll just sit behind you.”

“Here.”  Joan reached into her bag, pulling out a book and handing it to me.  “Use this.  Margaret and I will share.”

I accepted the thick book, making a mental note of the fact that Potions textbooks seemed to stay about the same size, even decades apart.  “Thank you.”  Sitting down behind them, I placed the book on the desk before leaning forward.  “What page are we on?”

“Three-hundred forty seven,” Margaret whispered back.

I thanked her, turning to the correct page, guessing that the book was probably close to seven hundred pages.  Looking up, I noted that this class period was shared with the Slytherin house.

Once everyone was seated, Slughorn started speaking.

“We are picking up from where we left off last time.”  His gaze raked across the classroom.  “Chapter-” he paused, his eyes landing on me.  A confused expression formed on his face.

I did my best to keep sitting tall, my leg bouncing anxiously.

“Do we have a new student?”

All eyes in the classroom turned to face me.

I held my head high, determined to not cower under the weight.  I kept my eyes locked onto the man at the front of the class.  “Yes, Professor.”

He hummed.  “Curious.  I was not informed we would be getting a new student.”

“A mere mistake I’m sure, Professor.”

“Most likely.  What is your name, then?”

I introduced myself, eyes unintentionally shifting downwards slightly towards the dark haired boy seated at the front of the class.

He, like everyone else, was already looking at me.

I quickly raised my eyes to Professor Slughorn again.

“-sit with Miss King for her first lesson?  In case she needs any help?”

The boy turned to his teacher.  “Of course, Professor.”

With abject horror, I watched as the boy collected his things, walked towards the back of the classroom, and sat next to me.

I looked back to the front of the class.  “Professor, this really isn’t necessary-”

“The Head Boy will willingly assist you if needed, Miss King,” Slughorn said.  “If you get along well on your own, should he so choose, he may return to his own seat.”

I held in a sigh.  “Yes, Professor.”

“Good.”  He turned his back to the class to look at the chalkboard behind him.  “As we were talking about in the last class…”

I ran a hand through my hair, reaching for my quill to start to take notes.  My hand closed around nothing and I lifted my eyes to look at where my quill was supposed to be, only to get a foul reminder.

I wasn’t where- or rather when- I was supposed to be.

I had no supplies.

Deciding I would rather try to memorize what Slughorn was saying instead of asking the boy next to me for anything, I folded my right arm on the desk in front of me, staring towards the front of the class.

“You might want these, Miss King.”

I turned to the soft noise on my right.

Merlin, even his voice was lovely.

At closer proximity, I could better make out his features, greedily noting that everything- his eyebrows, lips, nose- were perfect.

His dark green eyes were staring down at me, shifting between my own.

Before I stared too long I- with some effort- pulled my gaze away from him to look at the parchment and quill he had slid towards me.

My eyes widened slightly.

“It seems, Miss King…” he trailed off and I could hear the smirk in his voice, “it was good luck that I was sent to sit next to you.”

I lifted my head to look at him.

He was, indeed, smirking.  His green eyes shone with kindness and just a hint of mischief.

“Thank you,” I said, grasping the quill and beginning to write as I tried to focus on what Slughorn was saying.

Merlin, that didn’t stop my leg from bouncing, though.

~~~~~~~~~

Class ended and I stood, handing the quill back to the Head Boy.

He looked up at me, still sitting, his gaze dropping to the object.

“Thank you for allowing me to use your quill,” I said, holding my notes at my side.

The boy lifted his gaze to meet my eyes.  “You may keep it,” he said as he stood, forcing me to now look up at his tall frame in order to meet his eyes.  He slung his bag around his shoulder.  “I have more.”

I nodded once.  “Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards.  “You are welcome, Miss King.”

“Come on, King,” Joan said, grabbing my arm.  “Our next class is this way.”

I gave one last look at the Head Boy, nodding my head again to signal a ‘farewell’ and a ‘thank you’ before allowing myself to be led out of the classroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is Transfiguration, taught by Professor Dumbledore.”

I faltered in my steps, stopping in the hallway.

Professor Dumbledore.

It had been so long-

“...you alright, King?”

I blinked back into reality, looking over at Margaret and Joan’s concerned faces.  “Uh, sorry.”  I offered them a crooked grin.  “Go on; what were you saying?”

They talked, but I didn’t listen.  As we strode into Transfiguration class, my eyes instantly made their way to the front of the room.

A man was sitting behind a desk.  He had long white hair and a very welcome face.

“Professor Dumbledore,” I breathed out, relieved to see someone familiar.

To see the man that had been killed.

“Yes, that’s him,” Joan said.

“Here is the book for this class.”  Margaret handed me a textbook, which I accepted, though not really paying attention.

“Thanks,” I managed to get out before sitting in the only open seat; next to a Ravenclaw.  My eyes stayed locked onto the Professor as he began teaching.

~~~~~~~~~~

“And this is the Common Room,” Margaret said, leading me through the portrait of the Fat Lady.

I smiled slightly at the familiar face before being pulled in.

The room, though possessing some similarities to the Common Room in my own time, had notable differences.

The arrangements of the furniture were different, the furniture having a far older style than what I was used to.

“It’s very nice,” I said, observing the room.

“Our rooms are up these stairs,” Joan said, gesturing.  “Do not attempt to go up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories.  They are charmed.”

I nodded.  “It was the same way at…” I paused, “my other school.”

Margaret turned to face me.  “Where were you before you transferred?”

“Uhh…it was very similar to this, but it was a small school,” I bluffed.  “You probably wouldn’t have even heard of it.”

They nodded, satisfied.

I let out a small breath of relief as they began to move around the room, introducing me to my other housemates.  I greeted them all, smiling.

“Follow us,” Joan said, walking towards the stairs.  “We will see if we can find your room.”

“Did Headmaster Dippet say which dormitory was yours,” Margaret asked.

I froze, eyes wide.  “No…no, he didn’t.”

“Oh dear.  This may be a problem.”

“I can go ask him,” I said, realizing that I had yet to officially announce my…transference, anyway.

“We will go with you.”

“No!”  I shot my hand out before quickly retracting it and lowering my voice.  “No, it’s okay.  It’s getting late, and I don’t want you out past curfew.”

“But do you know the way,” Margaret questioned.

Assuming Dippet’s office was in the same location Dumbledore’s was, I nodded.  “I’m sure I’ll find it.”  I began backing up towards the door.  “If I’m not back before you girls go to bed, have a goodnight!”

“You as well,” they said, waving.

I turned, exiting the Common Room.

Alright.  Time to find Dippet’s office.

I began walking through the castle, making mental notes of the differences and similarities between this Hogwarts and mine.  As the duration of my walk lengthened, I began to wonder why I was even doing this.

I didn’t need to sign in to Hogwarts.  I didn’t need to take notes in class.  And I certainly didn’t need to start forming attachments to young men.

I didn’t have time to be distracted, no matter how gorgeous that distraction happened to be.

I had one job to do.

I had to find Tom Riddle.

I had to kill him.

“Miss King.”

I jumped at the sound of the voice, whipping around.  I couldn’t make out who was approaching me, since the castle was getting dark as evening came upon it.  Pulling out my wand, I held it out in front of me.  “Lumos.”

A light shone at the end of my wand, illuminating the boy that stopped in front of me.

My eyes widened.  “Merlin,” I breathed out.

It would be him.

The Head Boy raised an eyebrow, cocking his head.  “Curfew has begun, Miss King.  I do not wish to take points away from you on your first day, but-”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted.

He closed his mouth, looking over at me.

I could see a flicker of surprise, and possibly annoyance, in his eyes at being cut off.  “I was just on my way to see Headmaster Dippet,” I explained.

The Head Boy’s expression shifted, becoming more curious.  “Oh?”

“I realized he never told me which dorm was mine,” I said.

The boy didn’t need to know that I hadn’t actually been accepted into Hogwarts yet.

That would have been very suspicious.

“I see.”

A beat of silence passed between us.

“Then let me escort you.  If any other Prefects find you alone, you likely will lose points.”

I nodded.  “Thank you.”

The Head Boy pulled out his wand and flicked his wrist slightly, a light appearing on the end of it.

My eyes widened.  I hadn’t heard him cast ‘lumos’.

The boy gestured and began walking.

I fell into place beside him, increasing the speed of my steps to keep up with his longer strides.

We walked in silence for a few minutes before the boy broke it.

“Why have you transferred to Hogwarts so late in your wizarding career,” he questioned.

“I have a job to do,” I replied without thinking.  My eyes widened as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

He turned to look down at me, regarding me curiously.  “What is the nature of your job?”

I floundered for a realistic response.  “My parents just thought that the school I was previously at wasn’t preparing me well enough for a career.”

“A career?”  The boy was silent for a moment.  “Most witches your age hope for marriage out of school.  There are few who wish to work.”

“Well…” I pursed my lips.  “I guess I’m one of the few.”

The boy hummed.  “We’re here,” he said.  He turned to look at the gargoyle.  “Strawberries.”

The gargoyle spun, revealing the staircase.

I looked over at the Slytherin.  “Thank you.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done.”

“That’s really not necessary-”

He smirked.  “So you keep saying.  But as I said, if you want to avoid losing points, I will need to accompany you.”

I looked at him for a few moments before nodding, heading up the stairs.  Once at the top I looked around, noting that the office was very similar to Dumbledore’s.  “Headmaster Dippet,” I called out.

A man with long white hair and a short white beard and mustache emerged from behind a pile of books.  His eyebrows furrowed.  “Yes?”

“My name is King, sir,” I said.  “I was transferred to Hogwarts today.”

The Headmaster sat down at his desk.  “It is very late in the day to be transferring, Miss King.”

I swallowed nervously.  “It was a late decision, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Very well.”  Pulling out a quill and parchment, he asked “what are your parents’ names, dear?”

I froze, trying to remember the names of my great grandparents.  “Edward and Dorothy King, sir.”

He nodded, writing the names down.  “What school did you transfer from?”

I listed the first school that came to mind.  “Beauxbatons, sir.”

He nodded again, writing some more.  “That’s a good school.  Why did you transfer?”

I fisted my robe sleeves as my leg began to bounce.  “My parents thought I would be more suited here.”

He looked up at me, saying nothing.

I pursed my lips.  “Professor?”

Reaching into his desk, he pulled out more papers.  “I see you have already been sorted into Gryffindor…”

“Professor Dumbledore, sir,” I said.  “He saw me earlier…”

The headmaster hummed.  “He made no mention of it to me.”

“Probably just an oversight, sir,” I said quickly, beginning to sweat.

Merlin, who knew trying not to be caught in time travel would be so difficult?

“Probably.  Very well, Miss King.”  He reached over his desk, handing me a piece of paper.  “This is your dormitory room.”  He stepped around the desk, leading me back down the stairs.  “I will show you to the Common Room-”

“There’s no need for that, Headmaster.”

We both turned to the voice, seeing the Head Boy standing right where I had left him: in the middle of the hallway.

“I already volunteered to take Miss King back.”

“Ah, Mister Riddle,” Dippet said, clearly pleased.  “Excellent.”

My eyes widened and I nearly choked on my own saliva.  All the blood drained from my face and my heart began to beat erratically in my chest.

Dippet placed his hand on my back and shoved me gently towards the tall boy.

I simply stared up at him, at a complete loss for words.

There was no way-

“Hurry along, Mister Riddle,” Dippet encouraged.  “I’m sure Miss King would like to go to bed at a reasonable hour,” he said, smiling before turning back towards his office.

“Goodnight, Headmaster,” the boy- Riddle- said.

“Goodnight, children.”

Once the gargoyle closed, the boy looked down to meet my gaze.

I didn’t think I had moved in the last two minutes.

Let alone breathed.

“Are you ready, Miss King?”

I finally blinked.  “Riddle?”

He stared at me, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.  “Yes.”

I opened my mouth again, my voice wavering.  “Tom Riddle?”

His eyebrows furrowed further.  “Yes.”  He looked at me curiously.  “Why?”

“I…” I trailed off.

What was there to say?

The silence stretched on and he narrowed his eyes at me.

I blinked at him.

His eyes widened and he leaned back slightly, standing up taller than he had been before.  “You’re the hero, huh?  I guess that makes me the villain.”  He lowered his head, stepping further into my space.

I took an instinctive step backwards.  “You should already know you’re the villain,” I muttered, amazed that I was able to speak, let alone say something so bold in my current state.

“You’ve come to kill me,” he whispered.  “Tell me…where…exactly…are you from?”

I took another step back.

“If you don’t tell me, I can still get the information,” he insisted darkly.

“Stay out of my head,” I warned, with more strength than I felt.

“Everything alright here?”

Tom and I turned towards the voice, seeing two Prefects standing in the hallway.

Tom turned his body mostly towards them, moving away from my space and returning to his full height.  “I was escorting Miss King back to her Common Room.  She just got her dormitory direction from Headmaster Dippet,” he explained casually.

My eyes widened in horror at the speed in which he effortlessly swapped personalities.

“Very well,” one of the Prefects said.

“Enjoy your trip,” the other said with a wave as they walked away to continue their routes.

When they were out of sight I broke into a full sprint down the hallway.

I had no plan.  My body was moving purely on instinct.

Where could I go that would be safe?

I didn’t have time to think.

He could easily catch up.

Running through the halls, I turned a corner and was promptly whipped backwards.  I fell into a chest, trying to rip my arm free of the hand that held it.

Tom’s long fingers and firm hold were making it difficult to break his grip.

“Let go of me!”

Tom lowered his head.  “Be quiet.”

“No!”  I went to reach for my wand, but Tom’s other hand shot forward, fingers wrapping around my wrist and keeping both of my arms in his hold.  I struggled against him, but it was no use.

“Why are you here to kill me,” Tom demanded.

I continued pulling against him.

“Answer me, witch!”  His eyes flashed red, his face contorting into one of anger.

I froze, chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.  My wrists hurt and my body was tired from fighting against his hold.  “Because you’re a monster,” I spat.  “Because in my time you’ve killed countless people,” I panted, glaring up at him.  “Because I have to stop you.”

Tom said nothing for several moments, studying me closely.

I defiantly met his eyes, knowing he could use Legilimency if he wished.  He already knew half of it, anyway.

“Am I the most powerful wizard in your time?”

I glared.  “No.”

“Who is,” he demanded, his hold on my wrists tightening.

I lifted my chin, looking at him proudly.  “Dumbledore.”

Rage flashed across Tom’s face.  “Impossible.”

“It isn’t.”  I stared at him, unwavering, even though I felt like my heart was being squeezed.  “You’re going to lose…Voldemort.”

He stared at me, his chest rising and falling harder and faster than it had been.

Then he smirked, an aura of confidence washing over him.

“If I am truly going to lose, why did you come back in time to stop me?”

“To try to reduce the number of deaths,” I half-bluffed.  “Just because you get defeated in my time doesn’t mean we should let you get away with all those murders.”  I glared at him.  “I know I’m too late to prevent the deaths of Myrtle, some of the other students around here, and even others, but what I can try to stop, I will.”

“So you’ve come to kill me.”  Tom raised an eyebrow.  “Did you really think you would be able to?”

“That wasn’t my mission.”  My eyes narrowed at him.  “It was just the one I chose.”  Reeling my leg back, I swung it forward, kicking him in the shin.

He doubled over.

I kneed him in the nose.

He let out a yell as blood began to run down to his chin, his hands loosening enough in surprise that I managed to wiggle one of mine free.

Grabbing my wand as fast as possible, I aimed it at him.  “Stupefy!”

He shot backwards, back colliding with the castle wall before he hit the ground.

Walking over and rolling him onto his back, I held my wand at his throat.  I looked at him, his unconscious body laying on the floor.

Kill him.  Do it.

My grip on my wand tightened.  Foolishly, my eyes raked across his softened features.

Even as blood trickled from his nose, I couldn’t help but think the annoying thought that he was breathtaking.

The two sides of my brain fought each other.

Now’s your chance!  It would be such a pity to destroy something so beautiful.  Avenge all he’s done!

I ground my teeth together, hand shaking as I pointed my wand at him.

Save the world!  Save your friends!

Don’t destroy him!  Do what you were told to do!

End it!

Do the right thing!

Ending him is the right thing!  Stop him from causing harm to others!

Murder is never right!  Change him to become a better person!

You can’t change him!  He’s too far gone!

You don’t know that!

I let out a yell, jerking my arm towards the wall alongside Riddle.

A flash of light emerged from my wand and struck the stone.

Parts of it crumbled, falling alongside the unconscious boy.

I stared down at him for a few moments, heaving breaths.

I had to go.

He could wake up at any moment.

Giving him one final glance I ran towards the Common Room and didn’t look back.

Announcing the password I rushed in, sprinting up to my dorm.  Opening the door as quietly as I could, I sped in, hurrying onto my bed.  I sat on it, hugging my knees to my chest as I stared at the door.

I couldn’t afford to sleep.

He might come for me.

~~~~~~~~

I shakily made my way to breakfast the next morning, creeping around every corner to make sure Tom wasn’t there.  I sat down at the Gryffindor table, only a few students in the Great Hall this early.  Having had no sleep, I decided I would at least get something to eat and try to work through my thoughts.

Now that I hadn’t killed Riddle, what was my next plan?

Should I try again to kill him?  He would definitely be watching me, now.  He knew that I knew.

Should I try to convert him?  Easier said than done.  He’s already committed crimes, and I already attacked him.

Merlin, what did I get myself into?  Why didn’t I just kill him when I had the chance?

No, I scolded myself.  You did the right thing.

Even if it was for selfish, and admittedly, stupid reasons.

Alright.  Tom Riddle was alive.  I allowed Voldemort to live.

I could only hope I wouldn’t come to regret it.

In my time, the situation couldn’t get much worse anyway, so what the heck?  Might as well see where this takes me.

I pushed the eggs on my plate around with my fork, being hungry and yet not possessing an appetite.

“Miss King.”

My head shot up, gaze locking onto a pair of green eyes.

“Riddle,” I greeted coldly, my throat tight.  “How’s your nose?”

He glared as he sat down across from me.  Ignoring my question, a smirk formed on his face as his gaze scanned me.  “Did you sleep in your uniform, King?”

I frowned, mentally cursing myself for forgetting to cast a glamor charm.  My clothes were quite wrinkled.  “I didn’t sleep, actually.”

“Is that so?”  A crooked grin formed on his face.  “And why is that?”

I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes.  “You’ve killed for less.”  I left it at that, knowing he understood the subtext.

He hummed.

I raised an eyebrow.  “Why are you here?”

“For information.”

I let go of my fork, letting it clatter slightly as it connected with my plate, and crossed my arms.  “About what?”

“My future.”  He inclined his head towards me slightly.  “You.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Oh, I think there is.”  He leaned forward, lowering his voice.  “If you came to kill me, why did you not do so last night?  I was unconscious…” he trailed off, sitting more upright.  “You had the opportunity.”

I regarded him silently.

What was the best way to respond?

I was never very good at figuring out what to say in delicate matters like this.

It was made even worse by the fact that what I said could drastically impact the lives of countless people, myself included.

“I couldn’t,” I finally said.

Tom raised an inquisitive eyebrow and sat up even straighter.

He clearly had not been expecting that.

“And why not?”

I looked towards the doors of the Great Hall to avoid him using Legilimency on me again.

I did not want him using anything to his advantage.

“I somehow managed to convince myself that you were capable of saving.”  I allowed myself to look back at him.  “That you were worth saving.”

He stared at me silently, keeping his expression very guarded.

“You’re a very bright wizard, Tom,” I said.  “Powerful, too.  In the right place, you could do great things.”

“I will do great things,” he insisted.

“You will do impressive things,” I corrected.  “But they will be evil.”  I sat up straighter.  “For your own selfish end.”

His eyes briefly flashed red and I saw his face twitch as he tried to control his expression.  “It’s natural for me to look out for my own interest,” he said, voice slightly tense.

“At the cost of everyone else?”  I rolled my eyes.  “How typically Slytherin.”

His eyes narrowed.  “And I suppose it’s very Gryffindor to run headfirst into something without actually planning it out.”  He scoffed.  “Is it also a Gryffindor trait to retreat out of their task so foolishly when their opponent was helpless before them?”

I felt my anger boiling up.  “I spared your life!”  I whisper-yelled, conscious enough of the few other students in the room.  “The noble thing to do.”

“Because you are so focused on being noble, aren’t you?”

“I don’t send giant snakes to do my killing for me, you miserable boy,” I hissed.

“They weren’t worth my time.”

I slammed my hands on the table, pushing myself to my feet in a hurry as I glared daggers down at him.  “I should have done the job!”

Riddle stood as well, towering over me as he snarled back.  “If you had any brains, you would have!”

The room fell completely silent.

My chest took in air at an irregular rate, and I noticed Riddle’s breathing was also unusual.

We refused to look away from each other.

“Your ‘perfect boy’ image is slipping, Riddle,” I whispered, raising my eyebrow challengingly.  “Tread lightly.”

“I was about to give you the same warning.”  His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer.  “You do not want to make an enemy of me, King.”

I met his eyes, a determination and fury flowing through me.  “You were my enemy before I got here.”

Tom’s jaw clenched.  

The doors to the Great Hall opened, students beginning to flood in.

Riddle cast me one last glance before turning and making his way over to the Slytherin table.

I let out a relieved breath, plopping back down on the bench.  I watched Tom as he sat down, being joined by his housemates.

They all talked animatedly around him, but Tom seemed…distracted.

“Hello, King.”

I turned, seeing Margaret and Joan.  “Good morning.”  The words sounded tense, bordering on rude, to my own ears.

Margaret followed my previous line of sight.  “Looking at the Head Boy again?”  A teasing smile formed on her face.

I crossed my arms, scowling.  “I resent that.”

“Hopefully she’s studying the enemy.”  Joan turned to me.  “You had better be coming up with ways to win the House Cup this year,” she remarked.  “Slytherin’s won the past several years because of that boy,” she said, nodding towards Tom.  “Everyone loves him.”

I looked back over towards the dark haired boy.  “How... lovely,” I sneered.

The girls shared a look.

“Did you manage to find your dormitory alright,” Margaret asked.  “We never saw you.”

The blood began draining from my face as the memories from last night came back.  “Yeah.  It’s not with you two, though.  By the time I got back from Headmaster Dippet’s office, everyone was already in bed, and I got up early.”

At the sound of a few claps I turned my head to the right to see the Headmaster trying to get everyone’s attention.

I thanked Merlin for the distraction.

“Good morning, students,” he greeted.  “Normally I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast, but I believe some point adjustments need to be made.”

My eyebrows furrowed.

“Last night one of the Prefects found Tom Riddle with some injuries,” he began.

All of the color drained from my face and my blood ran cold.

“Our Head Boy was walking back our newest student,” he gestured at me, announcing my name.

I felt faint as all eyes turned to me.

“Riddle has brought it to my attention that when he was walking Miss King back to her Common Room, a troll attacked them, injuring Tom and breaking the wall.”

I was certain the astonishment on my face was evident.  Eyes wide and eyebrows to my hairline, I stared at the Headmaster in bewilderment.

“The Head Boy is certain that Miss King chased the troll out of the school while he was indisposed, saving everyone.”  Dippet smiled.  “For her bravery on her first evening at Hogwarts, saving the Head Boy and the rest of the school, I award Miss King with fifty points.”  He began clapping, everyone else following his lead.

I whipped my head around to look at Riddle, the only one besides myself not clapping, meeting his eyes in confusion.

“I needed to give them some reason for my state you so rudely put me in,” a voice in my head said.

The voice was proper, smooth, yet stern, and so clearly Riddle’s.

I ignored the clapping, keeping my focus on the Slytherin.  Why didn’t you tell them the truth?

“If I had told them the truth, I would have had to tell them why you attacked me, wouldn’t I?  I could have lied, saying you simply lost your temper or felt that I threatened you, but questions about me would arise, wondering what I would have done to warrant such a response from you.”  Tom sat up straighter in his seat, arching an eyebrow as he kept his eyes locked onto mine.  “You pose no threat to me.  You can’t tell anyone what you know without sounding like a deranged lunatic, especially after being here for only a day.”

I struggled to think of an appropriate response.

A hand on my back and a voice right by my ear had my head turning to my left, seeing Joan and Margaret smiling at me.

The connection between Riddle was broken, a sharp twinge in my head causing me to wince slightly.

“Why did you not tell us?”  Margaret asked excitedly.

“I…” I trailed off.  Looking down at my plate I hesitantly lifted a forkful of eggs into my mouth to buy me some time while I thought.  I forced down a gag at the unwanted food.  “I didn’t think it was important information,” I offered weakly with a shrug.

“It’s most definitely important,” Margaret insisted.  “You saved the Head Boy.”

I grimaced at the thought, looking back down at my plate.

“The entire school,” Joan corrected, eyeing her friend.

Margaret looked over to the dark haired girl.  “Well, obviously, but the Head Boy was more immediate.”

I lifted my gaze, keeping my head down, to look at the Slytherin table.

Tom was staring in silence at his own plate.  Unlike my shuffling of the food on mine, he simply looked down at his, his arms crossed and resting on the table.

What was he thinking about?

Was he thinking of killing me?  Would he decide to kill Dumbledore, since I told him that he was the most powerful wizard in my time?  Was he plotting a murder of someone else?  Was he actually thinking of changing?

I put my elbow on the table, holding my forehead in my hand.

Merlin, this was too much.

“Are you well, King?”

I turned to the girls.  “Just a headache,” I excused.

Technically, one was beginning to form at the number of questions and stress of it all.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Margaret said.

“Hopefully it goes away soon,” Joan remarked.  “Potions will be starting in only a little while.”

I groaned.  Here I was, supposed to save the Wizarding World, needing to attend class.

As if I needed more problems in my life right now.

Rubbing my forehead, I sat back up and ate a little more.

Did I want it?  No.

Was I going to regret not eating?  Yes.

Managing to get through half of my breakfast, I stood with everyone, making our way to Potions.  As I took my seat, accepting Joan’s book, I made a mental note to buy some textbooks since, apparently, I would be here for a while.  Flipping to the page we left on last time, I went to pull out some paper to take notes on, but paused.

I mentally added parchment to my shopping list.

The noise in the room got louder as more students filed in, taking their seats.

At the sense of someone sitting beside me, I turned, eyes widening at the figure there.

Oh, yeah.

I had been so concerned about avoiding Tom Riddle’s possibly murderous intentions I had forgotten that he sat next to me in Potions.

Though, I did recall that he didn’t have to.

“Miss King,” he greeted, passing me more parchment as he kept his eyes toward the front of the class.  His gaze remained there, even as he asked “do you still have the quill I gave you?”  He finally turned to look at me.

I nodded.

He turned his attention to Professor Slughorn as the man began writing on the board.

My eyebrows furrowed.  I leaned towards him slightly.  “What are you doing?”

He glanced at me.  “Preparing for class.”

I rolled my eyes.  “I meant sitting here.”

He smirked.  “Only to keep up pretenses, Miss King,” he insisted quietly.  “It casts a good image for the Head Boy to assist the newest student.”

I scoffed, sitting upright again and turning back to my own book.  My eyes roamed the page, pretending to be interested in the words.  “Everything’s all about pretenses with you,” I mumbled.

I didn’t bother looking at his reaction.

~~~~~~~~~

I made my way into Hogsmeade, treading the streets slowly.

Merlin, I really had no idea where I was.

The shops all looked so different from my time.

My heart tugged slightly and I frowned.

My time.

How long was I going to be in this cursed place?

However long it takes to do something about Voldemort, I reasoned with myself.

Letting out a huff, I kept walking, peeking my head into shops to see what they were.

“Looking for something, hero?”

I turned at the sound of the voice, seeing a blond standing on the sidewalk.

Tom Riddle stood slightly in front of him, towering above the boy.

The blond smirked at me.

My eyebrows furrowed, my questioning gaze unintentionally shifting towards Riddle.

Tom nodded his head towards the boy.  “This is Avery.  He’s one of my friends.”

I gave him a disbelieving look, cocking an eyebrow.

Tom lifted his head slightly, tilting his chin up a little in defiance.

I turned to look at Avery.  “I’m not a hero.”  I crossed my arms.  “Whatever Riddle said, it’s not true.”

Avery raised an eyebrow at the accusation.

Tom’s expression remained stoic, but I could see his features harden slightly.

I sighed.  “Look, could you just tell me where to purchase some parchment and textbooks?”

“You don’t know,” Avery asked incredulously.

“I’m not exactly from around here.”  My eyes drifted to Tom before turning back to the blond.

Avery chuckled darkly.  “You could just look around and find out for yourself.  Get more acquainted, you know.”

“That’s what I was doing before you interrupted,” I retorted.

Tom nodded his head towards a store, clasping his hands behind his back.  “I believe you’ll find your desired things in there, Miss King.”

“My desired things, huh?”  I scoffed, beginning to walk towards the building.  “I doubt it.”

~~~~~~~~~

I sat in the library, scratching my head as I stared down at my Transfiguration textbook.  I wasn’t focusing on the words, though.

I was trying to figure out how to get through to Riddle.

I didn’t want to seek him out, but I had to do something.  I couldn’t just wait around for things to happen on their own.

But how does one get through to a psychopathic murderer?

“You’ve been staring at that same page for ages.”

It took a few moments for me to realize that I was the one being spoken to.  Looking up, I locked eyes with my guest.  My stomach caught in my throat.  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Riddle,” I muttered, looking back down at my book.

He sat down across from me.  “I understand; Professor Dumbledore is such a dull teacher.”

I lifted my head to look at him, a glare crossing my features.  “Professor Dumbledore is an excellent teacher.  He’s an excellent mentor and an excellent man.”

Tom sneered.  “I would have sooner compared him to a vulture.  He’s always watching me.”

“Gee,” I deadpanned at him, “I wonder why that is.”

His eyebrow twitched upwards; in challenge or annoyance, I couldn’t tell.  “There’s no evidence of anything I’ve done.”

“Maybe you just seem evil to him.”  I crossed my arms.  “He’s a good judge of character.”

Tom smirked at me.  “Unlike yourself.”

I looked at him in silence for a few moments.  “I can judge someone’s character.”

“Perhaps, but you must not be very good at it.”  He pulled out a book, flipping to a random page to feign studying.  “You left the Dark Lord alive, remember?”

A pang of guilt and rage rushed through me.  “I told you why.”

“But I don’t believe it.”  He lifted his head to look at me.  “Gryffindors are noble, but they’re also headstrong.  If they make up their mind to do something, it takes a lot to get them to change their mind.  And what could be more noble than avenging the deaths of so many?”  He leaned forward.  “So.  What made you change your mind?”

“You’re so smart.”  I leaned forward in my own seat, narrowing my eyes at him.  “Figure it out.”

Tom stared at me for a few moments before letting out an incredulous chuckle and sitting upright.  “Surely you wouldn’t let something as mundane as physical attraction sway you.”

My face broke into a harsh heat and I leaned back in my seat.  Having no response, I simply scoffed and averted my attention to another student searching the shelves for a book.

Tom continued to stare at me in silence.

I could feel my face getting warmer at the attention.

The awkward prolonged quiet wasn’t helping, either.

I took a deep breath, trying to fight off the sweat that had formed a thin layer over my skin.  I practically willed my cheeks to lose some of their red color.

Merlin, they rivaled a Weasley’s hair.

Turning my glare towards the Slytherin sitting across from me, I crossed my arms.  “You didn’t kill me, either.”  I nodded my chin towards him.  “I know your secret.  I’m a threat to your cause.  I could expose you for what you really are.”

“You can’t expose me, remember?  No one would believe you.”

“Dumbledore would.”

His confident smirk was replaced by a frown, his eyebrows pulling together.  His form tensed, sitting more rigid than before.  He looked to the side.  “Dumbledore is a fool.”  He met my eyes again.  “He can’t do anything to me.”

“So you keep saying.  But I’m not convinced.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed at me.  “Are you trying to get me to kill you?”

“No.”  I shrugged one shoulder.  “Just trying to figure you out.  You said you were keeping me alive for information.”

“A true statement.”

I leaned forward.  “Then use Legilimency.  Read my mind and find out all you want to know.  Then you would have no reason to keep me alive,” I challenged.

Tom’s eyes shifted between my own.  “It’s too easy.”

I rolled my eyes, sitting upright again.  “Sorry, I didn’t know that taking over the world was a sport to you.”

He regarded me silently.

When the silence stretched on, I looked back down at my textbook.  “What are you doing here, anyway?  Are you following me or something?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

I glanced up at him before returning my attention to the page in front of me.  After rereading the same sentence eight times I huffed, closing the book and staring in annoyance at the cover.

Transfiguration: Third edition.

I chewed on my lip before stuffing the book in my bag and standing, marching out of the library.

~~~~~~~~~

I steeled myself, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” a voice from inside called.

Pushing open the wooden door, I stepped into the office.  “Professor Dumbledore?”

“Ah, Miss King.”  A small smile appeared on the man’s face.

Merlin, I almost cried at the sight of it.

“Please,” he gestured, “have a seat.”

“Thank you, Professor.”  I sat down in the chair facing his desk.

“What can I do for you?”

“Professor, I was wondering…”  My leg began to bounce.  “I was wondering what you could tell me about… about Tom Riddle.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose.  “What would you like to know about Tom?”

“Anything useful.”

Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow at me.

My leg bouncing increased speed.  Surely, I could tell Dumbledore what was going on?  In my time he was dead anyway, so it wouldn’t have an impact later?

It was flimsy logic, but it was all I had.

I huffed.  “Professor, I’m from the future.  I was sent back from the year 1998.”  Reaching into my robe, I pulled out the time turner to show him.

His expression remained mostly impassive as he simply looked at the object before lifting his gaze to me.  “All but two time turners in the world only take the wearer back at a maximum of five hours.”

“This one was altered by the person who sent me back,” I explained, trying to be as vague as possible.

He didn’t need to know everything.

I fisted my altered uniform roughly, twisting the fabric in my hands.  “Professor, I was sent here to change the past.  To save everyone that Riddle kills.  But I’m not a hero.”  I let out a humorless chuckle.  “I’m starting to wonder if I’m even a Gryffindor.”

“Why would you not belong in Gryffindor?”

I lifted my eyes to meet his.  “I had the opportunity to kill Tom Riddle, before his acts got too carried away…but I didn’t.  I cowered out of it.”

Dumbledore hummed.  “Oftentimes, killing is the easy solution.  Especially if Tom becomes as bad as you say.  It is simple to end someone that would cause so much harm.”  He looked at me meaningfully, with a warm smile and a kind look in his eyes.  “Sometimes it takes more bravery to spare a life.”

I bit back tears and nodded.  I cleared my throat.  “What should I do, Professor?  How do I change a killer?”  I moved in my seat, sitting on the edge of the chair.  “How can I get through to him?”

“I do not know everything about Mister Riddle,” Dumbledore informed.  “He grew up in an orphanage.  His mother died when he was very young.  His father abandoned him.”  Dumbledore clasped his hands, resting them on the desk.  “There must be a reason that you specifically were sent here, Miss King.  Use your judgment.  Find your own way.”

I sighed, looking down and nodded.  “Thank you, Professor.”  I stood and exited the office.

My own way, huh?

~~~~~~~~~

What the frick was my way?

I briefly considered the option of holding my wand to his throat, demanding he fix his mistakes or I’d kill him, but I quickly reasoned that wouldn’t work.

No matter how much I wished it did.

I had been in 1945 for a few weeks, but it felt like I had been here for a number of months.

And I was making no progress.

My grades weren’t even very good, since I had other things on my mind.  I had never been a good multitasker.

Merlin, I was seriously doubting Professor McGonagall’s choice in sending me back.

I had no idea what I was doing.

Alright, then.  I’d wing it.

I stood from the chair in the Common Room, making my way to the door.

“Curfew starts soon, King,” Joan warned, looking up from her book.

“I know.”  Without looking back, I pushed the portrait open and closed it behind me, making my way to the dungeon.

I never liked the dark, and this part of the castle seemed to soak it all up.  Thankfully, I could still see.  Reaching the door to the Slytherin Common Room I paused.

I didn’t know the password.

And with curfew starting soon, Riddle might not have even been in the Common Room.

I chewed my lip.

Thankfully, the door swung open on its own.

I froze as a figure walked out, not sure if I should be relieved or not.  “Avery,” I greeted.

The blond looked up at me, his steps halting.  “Hero?”  He raised a judgmental eyebrow.  “What are you doing at the Slytherin Common Room?”

“Looking for Riddle.”

Avery watched me for a few moments.  “He’s inside.  He’ll be starting to patrol soon.”

“Can you get him?  I need to talk to him.”

Avery thought for a few moments before retreating into his Common Room.  He emerged shortly after, Riddle in tow.

Avery walked down the hallway, doing whatever it was he was going to do before he saw me.

Tom closed the door behind him, looking down at me in a manner similar to Avery’s.

It was different, though.

Tom was studying me.  Trying to figure me out.

He raised a silent, questioning eyebrow at me.

I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable in my own skin.

I cleared my throat.  “Can we talk?”

His other eyebrow rose in surprise.  “I’m going to begin my rounds soon-”

“I know; Avery told me.”  I looked up at him.  “But I need to either sort this out or go home.”

Tom’s expression shifted ever so slightly.  “You would go home?  Even if your goal was unaccomplished?”

I shrugged one shoulder.  “If I can’t do what I was sent to do, there’s no point in hanging around a time that isn’t mine, is there?”

Tom regarded me silently for a few moments.  “No.  No, I suppose not.”

I gestured at him.  “Especially with you graduating soon, I’m going to lose a lot of contact with you.”  I cracked a small smile.  “Unless I apply for a job at the same place.”  I tilted my head, my smile growing.  “But I kind of doubt I’d get it, since I would only have about two months of proof of my existence, so…”

The corners of Tom’s mouth raised slightly.  He nodded, looking down the hallway.  His gaze drifted back to meet my eyes.  “Walk with me.”

I fell into step beside him, needing to jog a little initially to catch up to his long paces.  Once I settled into a rhythm that would keep me next to him, I relaxed, turning to look up at his side profile.  “Do you like being the Head Boy?”

He turned his head to look at me, a confused expression overtaking his features.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking forward again as he turned corners without much thought.

I figured he must have memorized his paths at this point.

“It gives me power, but also responsibility.”

“So, yes and no?”

He looked down at me.  “Did you come to talk to me about something as dull as this?”

I shrugged, turning my attention forward as we rounded another corner.  “I just wanted to talk to you about anything.”

He kept his expression guarded.  “Trying to discover my weaknesses?”

I frowned as I thought for a moment.  “Not really.”  I looked up at him.  “I don’t think your feelings on your Head Boy duties are particularly useful insights into the darkest parts of your mind,” I admitted.

His eyes flickered down to me very briefly before looking ahead again.  “Was there anything else?”

I pursed my lips.  “I didn’t really have anything in mind.”  I looked back towards him.  “Just…tell me about yourself.”

A skeptical look overtook Tom’s features as he continued to stare ahead, resolutely not looking at me.  “You’re trying to get me to reveal something.”

I could see it behind his eyes, though.

Vulnerability.

“Tom…” I sighed, looking up at him.

He finally looked down at me.

I frowned.  “You’re far too cynical.  Is it so hard to believe I just want to get to know you?”

Tom raised an eyebrow.  “You did try to kill me.”

“And I haven’t for almost a month now,” I reminded.

Tom’s eyes shifted to the floor for a few beats before he looked forward again.  “I still don’t trust you.”

“Nor I, you.”

~~~~~~~~~

I tugged at my hair, looking down at my Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.

“Is something wrong, King?”

I looked up, seeing Tom sit across from me.  “My grades are slipping because I’ve been a little…preoccupied.”  Pursing my lips, I let out a small huff.  “And Defense Against the Dark Arts was never one of my strong suits,” I remarked, gaze returning to my book.

“Well, fortunately it’s my best subject.”  Tom stood, moving around the table to sit next to me.

I felt heat creep up my neck at the proximity.

He placed his hands on the table, his robe sleeve brushing mine, looking over at the pages I had flipped open.  “What have you been struggling with?”

Merlin, how was anyone supposed to think with Tom that close, let alone focus.

“Uhhh.”

Tom looked down at me, his green eyes peering into mine.

My breathing picked up, chest rising and falling at a faster rate.  I studied his face for a few moments, gaze dropping briefly to his lips before quickly averting my eyes to stare down at the textbook.

King, what do you think you’re doing!?  Pull yourself together!

I forcibly cleared my throat.  “Uhhh,” I repeated, my voice even weaker than it had been.  I let out a strained chuckle, holding my head in my hand.  “Merlin, Tom.”

“Are you alright, King?”

I looked over at him, only to turn even redder at seeing the smirk on his face.

“Should I take you to the healer?”  His eyebrows quirked upward almost mockingly.  His features shifted, feigning concern.  “I don’t believe that shade of red is normal.  Or healthy.”

I glared, the expression holding no actual anger, and swatted him in the arm, looking back to my book.  “I hate you.”

He let out a breathy chuckle before pulling the textbook closer to him so he could see it better.  Gesturing at it, he looked back at me.  “What’s confusing you?”

An affectionate smile graced my features.

I didn’t even have the thought to gasp in horror at the action.

~~~~~~~~

“No, that’s purely a defensive spell.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, scratching down a note as I took a bite of toast.

Tom sat next to me, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.

“I think some of these spells should be more versatile,” I muttered, finishing writing and sitting upright.

“Unfortunately, we cannot decide.”

I looked up at Tom.  “Bummer, really.”  I huffed out a sigh.  “I guess we just have to focus on what we can control.”

Tom’s gaze dropped slightly.

I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Indeed,” he said.

I blinked at him for a few moments before pointing at a sentence in my book.  “But, does-”

The sound of the doors in the Great Hall opening brought my attention to them.

I sighed as students flowed in.  Looking back to Tom, I frowned.  “I wish there was somewhere private we could meet.  We aren’t in the same house, so we can’t even both be in the same Common Room.”

Tom hummed.  “The library is only available for certain hours, as well.”

I nodded, pursing my lips.  “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”  Closing my book, I looked back at Tom as I put the textbook back in my bag.  “Thanks for all your help.”

Tom chuckled briefly.  “It’s a wonder you made it to seventh year in your time.”  He stood from the Gryffindor table, looking down at me.  “I can only assume that magic has gotten even more complex in future decades.”

“The style of writing is different.”  I sent him a crooked grin.  “Less pompous, if you ask me.”

He scoffed.  “Less professional, you mean.”  He turned around, returning to the Slytherin table.

I smiled at his back for a few moments before returning to my breakfast.

“How are you, King?”

I looked up, seeing Margaret sit across from me.  “I’m doing well, how about you?”

She smiled.  “I’m ready for the day.  Our finals are in only a few weeks, but I feel prepared.”

Groaning, I put my head in my hand.  “Don’t remind me.  This Defense Against the Dark Arts stuff is killing me.”

“You seem to be doing better in class,” she remarked, pouring herself a cup of pumpkin juice.

I smiled softly, the image of Tom Riddle appearing in my head.  Clearing my throat, I looked up at the Gryffindor.  “It’s a miracle, Margaret.”

~~~~~~~~~

“I’m ready to go to sleep,” Joan remarked, heading back to the Common Room for the evening.

“It has been a long day,” Margaret agreed, readjusting her grip on the books she held to her chest.

“I’ll probably be up for a little bit,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair with a huff.  “I need to do more studying.”

“Miss King.”

The three of us turned to the voice.

I involuntarily smiled at the sight of the Slytherin.  Nodding in greeting, I managed to wipe most of the smile away.  “Mister Riddle.”

My housemates were looking between us suspiciously.

Tom turned to the two girls.  “May I borrow her?”

They exchanged glances before nodding at the Head Boy.

Tom smiled.  “Wonderful.”

I looked at the girls and waved.  “I’ll catch up with you later.”

They waved back before continuing to head towards the Common Room.

I turned back to Tom, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly.  “Borrow me?”

He smirked back.  “It worked, didn’t it?”

I shook my head, chuckling.  “What did you need?”

“I wanted to show you something.”  He gestured for me to follow him, which I swiftly did.

I didn’t even realize I no longer had trouble trying to match his pace.

“I found somewhere I think we could meet,” he said just quietly enough so that no one but me could hear.  “I had read something about it and began to research.”  He turned a corner, stopping in front of a wall.  He stared up at it.  “It’s called ‘The Room of Requirement’.”

My eyes widened.

Of course!

“Brilliant, Tom.”  I turned, seeing the familiar door begin forming on the once-blank wall.

Once the door had fully appeared, I walked forward, opening the door and stepping inside.

I paused, looking around.

“Is something wrong?”

My gaze raked the room.  “It’s just different from my time.”  I chuckled, observing the couch and two chairs surrounding a small table.

A fireplace sat a few paces away, filling the room with warmth.  A red rug covered the floor, a bookshelf in the corner of the room.

I chewed on my lip.  “I suppose it’s for a different use, though.”

“What do you use the room for in your time?”

The voice was so close I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I looked over my shoulder, seeing Tom standing behind me.  My gaze raked his features.  I forced my voice to remain steady.  “Practicing spells.”  I drew my gaze from him to look around the room again.  “It’s usually much more open than this.”

Tom hummed before moving from behind me to stand by the small table.  “I thought this would be a good place for us to study,” he remarked casually, running his hand along the back of a chair.

I watched the action before lifting my gaze to meet his eyes.

He met mine at the same time.

“It’s very cozy in here.”  I walked towards him, sitting down on the couch.  “I might do more sleeping in here than studying.”

Tom sat down next to me.  “I will not let you sleep.”  He looked over at me.  “Not with the end of the semester so close.”

I huffed.  “Right.”  Sighing, I pulled my school bag off my shoulder, dropping it on the floor next to me as I pulled out my DADA book and set it on the table, turning to the right page.  “Now… where were we?”

~~~~~~~~

“Correct.”

I sighed out in relief, leaning back against the familiar couch, running my hands along my face.

“You really are doing quite well,” Tom said from beside me.

I let out a short chuckle.  “Only thanks to you.”  I dropped my hands to my lap, looking over at the Slytherin.  “There’s only one week left until exams.”  I scooched forward on the couch so I could better reach the table, looking down at my textbook.  “With all of this new information, my brain may explode.”

“I think that is unlikely.”

I chuckled as I turned to look at Tom, only to freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

He was looking down at me, a warm glint in his eyes.  A beautiful glow was being cast on part of his face from the fire, contrasting the dim lighting of the rest of the room.

The sounds of the crackling embers filled my ears.  The smell of wood flooded my nose.

A warmth overtook me as I looked between Tom’s green eyes.

My heart twinged.

I gasped slightly, looking away.  My eyes wide, I held my head in my hands as I tried to calm my breathing.

This can’t be happening.

“King?”

I felt the couch shift as Tom leaned closer to me.

“Are you alright?”

I looked over at him, meeting his concerned eyes.  I let out a tiny quiet, albeit strained, laugh.  “I’m alright, Tom.”  My gaze dropped to his lips, lingering there for far longer than I had intended, getting caught up in mentally tracing their shape.

I briefly wondered how they’d feel.

I groaned, falling sideways on the couch, my hair splayed out on the cushion.  I hid my face in my hands.

What in Merlin’s name was wrong with me?

Sighing, I turned, lying on my back as I stared up at the ceiling.

He’s the Dark Lord, he’s the Dark Lord, he’s the Dark Lord, he-

I closed my eyes.

The Dark Lord would never help the woman sent back to kill him with her homework.

My eyes opened, seeing Tom looking down at me.

His face was contorted into one of confusion as his gaze raked my form before meeting my eyes again.  He quirked an eyebrow.

I chuckled, sitting up again.

“Is everything okay?”

I smiled at the Slytherin.  “Yeah.”  My gaze drifted between his curious eyes.  “It is.”  Slowly, I reached my right hand up.

His gaze went to it, watching for a few moments, before his eyes returned to mine.

I carefully placed my hand on the side of his face.

He took in a sharp inhale, eyebrows pulling together and eyelids fluttering.

I gently rubbed my thumb over his cheek, reaching my left hand up and placing it on his shoulder.

He stared into my eyes with so much emotion I could barely stand it.

I leaned forward slowly, watching him intently for any indication of rejection.

He swallowed hard as I got closer.

When I was just a few inches from him, I met his eyes.

They were large, looking alarmed, but I didn’t find any dislike.

I slowly closed the gap, my eyes fluttering closed unintentionally the moment our lips met.

Merlin, his lips felt so perfect against mine.

My hand on his shoulder shifted, dragging across his back to cradle the back of his head.  My fingers threaded through the hair, loving the softness.

A tug on my waist brought my attention to the weight of his hands on my hips.

I broke the kiss slowly, desperately needing air, and rested my forehead against his.  I continued to play with his hair as I panted for breath, my eyes still closed, afraid that if I opened them the moment would be gone.

For the first time in a long while I could finally hear Tom’s breathing, nearly as ragged as mine.

I felt a gentle nudge against my lips and kissed back, my right hand taking place at the back of Tom’s head to replace my left hand, which had traveled down to Tom’s left shoulder.  My arm laid completely across the back of his neck and shoulders, pulling him towards me with such force I fell backwards onto the couch, Tom following.

I opened my eyes as I pulled away, looking up at him.

He panted from above me, eyes drifting between my own.

Shifting my right hand, I brushed some of his fallen hair out of his eyes.  “I think I love you,” I whispered.

His eyes widened and he froze, his breathing seeming to stop altogether.

But perhaps it did.

As much as my head screamed at me that this was Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the killer of dozens, it didn’t feel true.

I could never feel this way about Voldemort.

Tom Riddle was a different person.  He shared the same anger issues, hurts, wishes for something better for himself, but he wasn’t so malicious.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, cradling his jaw again.  “You don’t need to say it back if you don’t want to.”

Tom’s wide eyes searched my own, as if in disbelief of what he’d heard.

I chuckled, reaching both arms around his back and pulled him down, laying him on top of me.

He tried to use his forearms to support his weight, but I forced his entire body onto me, enjoying the fullness of his presence.

Letting out a content sigh, I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his back.  I turned my head, placing a kiss on his temple before we stilled, just listening to the sounds of our own breathing and the fire, feeling nothing but each other.

~~~~~~~~

Tom hadn’t spoken to me since yesterday.

While he normally would spend some time eating breakfast at my table before most of the students came in, he marched straight to the Slytherin table, an expression on his face that I had never seen on him before.

He didn’t look quite confused or angry, but he didn’t look happy or sad either.

The best guess I had was that he was trying to figure out what to do after our last…interaction.

To be fair, hearing those three dangerous words from someone not from your own time sent to kill you would probably send me for a loop.

I slowly ate supper, doing some thinking of my own.

I had caught him looking at me multiple times today, but that was hardly surprising, or even helpful in finding out what was going through his brain.

It was doing little to calm the anxiety that had seemed to settle in my stomach and reside there all day.

“King?”

I looked up, seeing Margaret and Joan looking at me expectantly.  “Sorry, what?”

“What are your plans after you graduate?”

I let out a small chuckle at the irony, looking back down at the food on my plate.  “I’m not sure.”  My gaze lifted to find the Head Boy.  “I guess that depends.”

Margaret caught it and she gasped, clasping her hands together.  “Are you going to marry Tom Riddle!?”

My fork slipped out of my hand, clattering against the plate as my eyes widened.  “Shhh!”  I narrowed my eyes at her.  “Merlin, Margaret, people can hear you.”

She grinned sheepishly.  “Sorry.”

After a beat of silence, Joan looked over at me.  “Well?  Are you?”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.  “I don’t know.”  My leg began to bounce and I brought my hand down, placing it on top of my knee in an effort to stop its movements.  “I don’t know what we are.”  I looked over at him.  “I don’t know if we can.”

Can you marry someone from the past?

“We didn’t think you and Tom were that close,” Joan admitted carefully.  “I know that you would often disappear, but we didn’t know why.”

“He’s helping me study for the upcoming exams,” I said, gaze dropping back to my plate.

“Is that all?”

I glanced over at Margaret.  “I don’t know.”  Putting my hands on the table, I stood.  “I’m going for a walk.  I’ll see you both later.”  Stepping away from the table, I marched out of the Great Hall, not once looking back.

~~~~~~~~

I simply had to ask him.

Two days had gone by without anything from the famous Slytherin.

I sat at breakfast, trying to figure out when the best time to approach him was.

He didn’t even come into the Great Hall early like he usually did, instead coming in surrounded by his followers amongst the flood of other students.

“Attention, students,” Headmaster Dippet spoke.  “Your final exams begin today and last throughout the week.  To avoid cheating, only one house at a time will take their exams so that everyone can have their own desk.”  His gaze raked across the tables.  “Your schedules are posted on the classroom doors.  Now,” he gestured, “enjoy your breakfast.  And good luck.”

I ran a hand through my hair as he sat back down.

Alright.  Approaching Tom before our exams was out of the question.

Maybe I could catch him in the hallway.

I then had the thought that talking to the most famous boy in school about our love life in the middle of a likely-busy hallway was not my best idea.

After class, perhaps?

He might have Head Boy duties, or something.  He’d probably run off to his Common Room as soon as he could, anyway.

Merlin, this was giving me a headache.

Sighing in temporary defeat, I pulled out my textbook to begin studying for my first test.

Maybe focusing on something else would clear my head.

~~~~~~~~

By Friday I was determined to track this man down, even if it meant breaking into the Slytherin Common Room.

It had been a whole week since we had spent that evening in the Room of Requirement.

Merlin, it just was my luck that the first person I broke down walls for, confessed my feelings to and was intimate with would be from fifty years ago, and it just would be Lord Voldemort- the man that I had been sent to kill- and of course he would avoid me at any possible cost afterwards.

You couldn’t write this stuff.

As soon as I handed in my test for grading- briefly noting that there was no way I did as well as I would have liked given my mental state- I sprinted out of the classroom as quickly as I could, making a beeline for the Slytherin Common Room.

If I had to wait there for hours, I would see Tom Riddle.

He couldn’t run forever.

And so, I waited.

Because it was Friday, the last day before graduation, there was only one exam today in order to give the teachers enough time to grade everything.

Tom wouldn’t be long.

I waited outside their door for two hours, at some point sitting down because my feet were beginning to hurt from standing on the stone floor.  At the sound of voices, I looked up, rising to stand.

Tom, naturally, led the pack; taking up the front.

He looked away from one of his followers, eyes landing on their door before his gaze drifted to me.

I don’t think I had ever seen Tom Riddle look nervous before.

“King,” he addressed in a false sense of calm.

I could hear the slight waver in his voice.

Cocking an eyebrow, I resisted the urge to cross my arms.  “Riddle,” I replied in a cold tone.

He let out a harsh, silent breath, glancing away briefly before meeting my eyes again.  “What are you doing here?”

“Hunting for snakes.”  I allowed my arms to cross.  “They tend to hide when they get scared.”  I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes.  “You haven’t seen any, have you?”

Whispers broke out amongst the Slytherins behind Tom.

He looked over his shoulder, wordlessly silencing them with only an expression.  Turning back to me, he faltered for a moment.

I had clearly caught him off guard.

He was getting sloppy.

I mentally patted myself on the back.

Surely if Tom was going to end up as Voldemort he would have kept alert, right?

At his prolonged silence I raised an expectant eyebrow.

“What’s the wait for?!”  Someone from the back yelled.

I looked towards the back of the group before meeting Tom’s gaze again.

He huffed, rolling his eyes slightly.  Looking back to me, he finally found his voice.  “We were going to celebrate the end of the year…” he trailed off, hoping I would get the message.

If he thought I was going to succumb to his not-so-subtle hint to leave, he had another thing coming.

I scoffed.  “You’re not.”

“We’re not?”

“You’re not.”  I nodded my head towards the group behind the Head Boy.  “They can do what they please.”  I looked back to Tom.  “But you owe me a conversation and some time.”

He watched me for a few moments.

I refused to back down.

Tom sighed, nodding.  He gestured for the rest of his housemates to go in, quietly announcing the password.

When we were finally alone I remained silent, wanting him to crumble a little under the dread of what would come out of my mouth.

Frankly, I didn’t even know what I was going to say.

After a few moments he cleared his throat, drawing his shoulders back and holding his head high to stand to his full height.  He looked at me, raising an eyebrow, but I could see the flicker of fear behind his eyes.

I waited a few beats before asking the first question.  “Do you realize how horrible this week has been for me?”  I scoffed.  “Merlin, Tom, we graduate tomorrow- I worried I would never see you again.”

His gaze dropped to the floor.

I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious.  “Look, if you regret it- if you regret me- then you should have just come out and say it.”  I looked to the wall, terrified of meeting his eyes.

Silence stretched between us, feeling so suffocating I considered leaving to get some fresh air.

But I couldn’t.  Not now.  Not when I finally had him.

“I don’t.”

It was so quiet I barely heard him.  I finally turned my head to face him, meeting his gaze.  I eyed him, trying to find any indication of a lie.  Finding none, I continued.  “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I needed some time to think.”

I tried to swallow the lump that formed in my throat, but was unsuccessful.  “And?”  I managed to croak out.

He grew silent again.

If I didn’t know any better, I would say he was toying with me intentionally.

My eyebrows pulled together as I searched his eyes.  “Tom?”

He took a deep breath.  “I want you to stay.”  He straightened his posture again.  “I want you to stay with me.”

I swore my heart stopped.

Time seemed to halt around me.

I opened my mouth, trying to respond, but I found I had no idea what to say.

Did I want to stay with him?  Could I stay in a time that wasn’t my own?  Was he completely cured of his evil endeavors?

I blinked away my thoughts, squaring my shoulders.  “And your…plans for the future?”

He went silent, though he held my gaze.  “I never had anyone love me before,” he finally settled on saying.  “I didn’t think I was capable of the feeling, myself.”  He took in a large, shaky breath, but kept his eyes on mine.  “I’m willing to give up my aspirations for you.”  His eyebrows quirked up in vulnerability.  “If you’ll have me.”

I was rendered completely and utterly speechless.  All thoughts of an appropriate response fled my brain.  I looked down, trying to think, when I caught sight of his hands at his sides.  I lifted my head to meet his gaze.  “And the Horcruxes?”

He grimaced.  “I haven’t destroyed them, yet.”  He lifted his hand to look at the ring that hugged his finger.  “I’m not looking forward to it.”

“It’s going to hurt,” I confirmed, walking towards him to look at the ring.  Reaching my hand out, I stroked the gem, making a mental note that he let me.  I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes.  “That’s what happens when you split your soul apart.”

He sighed, nodding.

I clapped my hand on his chest good-naturedly.  “Be glad I caught you when you’ve only made two.  I imagine it hurts worse with each split.”

Having nothing to say, he simply nodded again.

I chuckled, holding his large hand between both of mine.  “So…” I grinned up at him, “you’ll get a good job because you’re so smart, I’ll get the best job I can, being in a different time and everything, and we’ll go from there.”  I gently patted the top of his hand.  “How does that sound?”

He smiled.  “It’s a start.”

I chuckled, stepping completely into him and wrapping my arms around him.

His arms came around me, settling on my low back.

I let out a small laugh.  “How on earth did I do this?”

Tom pulled away slightly to look down at me.  “Do what?”

“Tame the Dark Lord.”  I chuckled.  “I still don’t know what Professor McGonagall was thinking.  I have no idea how this worked.”

Tom thought for a moment.  “By being yourself, I suppose.”

I hummed.  “Sounds flimsy.”

Tom huffed a chuckle and I grinned, looking up at him.

Reaching my right hand up, I once again cradled the side of his face.

He closed his eyes, leaning into it, before he opened them to look down at me.

We both leaned forward, meeting in the middle, and our lips connected, slotting into place.

My heart danced in my chest as I ran my hand through his hair before pulling away to look up at him.  “I love you.”

He smiled down at me.  “I love you, too.”

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

A/n: Holy moly, this is so long.  54 pages.

This was actually really hard to write.  Trying to make Tom Riddle redeemable is easier said than done.  I got stuck multiple times when writing this, trying to figure out how to best progress in a way that was realistic and moved the story and their relationship forward in a believable way.  He's also so nuanced that I reworked a fair number of his lines to try to sound as much like him as possible.

I went back and edited some things multiple times because I noticed that I was writing King coming at the problem from a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff way, so I had to try to adjust it to make her more firmly Gryffindor.  She still has moments of traits from other houses, but that's normal, so.

There's a couple things in the story that I didn't outright say, but wanted to share anyway:

-Tom WAS following King (in Hogsmeade, the library, etc.) to keep an eye on her, because she DID defeat him and could have killed him if she wanted.  While he never admitted it, he did view her as a threat.

-Dippet's password being "strawberries" I made up/guessed, because Dumbledore had started a rumor that Dippet had planted strawberries on the castle grounds, likely meaning the Headmaster was fond of them.

-Doing some research, I found that Abraxas didn't actually go to school with Tom, but Avery was one of the few Death Eaters that were confirmed to.

-Tom reacting so strongly to physical affection just made sense to me.  Especially growing up in an orphanage, that boy is definitely touch-starved.

-Tom avoiding King to think also seemed fitting, since he was new to love and he had to battle between a woman and all of the plans he had been crafting for years.  I think it's realistic that he would have tried to give himself space and time to weigh his options, and even not wanting to seek her out to tell her.

-Tom didn't see an issue announcing the password to the Slytherin Common Room in front of King because it was the last school day, so she couldn't use it after they graduated, anyway.

Anywho.  That was a lot. Hope you enjoyed.  Make sure to let me know what you thought!  I'm curious if you thought I did our dear Tom Riddle justice.

[calaisreno]

Bottles

Note: I have two stories today because I couldn't make up my mind.

This one is sad (alcoholism, Sad John, Not Dead Sherlock, reunion, reconciliation, rehab. No MCD). The next one (Imagine) is much happier.

887 words / Prompt: Empty

He’s forgotten where he lives. 

He hasn’t forgotten the little house in Clapham where his bed is, but as usual, his feet have taken him to Baker Street. That only happens when he’s been drinking. Well, it happens all the time these days. 

Pockets, pockets. He still has a key, but he can’t find it. 

“Lost it,” he says to himself. This seems true, and certainly describes his entire life these days. Since. After. 

Lost it. He’s lost it.

It’s cold, almost November. Maybe it is November. If he closes his eyes— he does— he remembers another November. Back. Before. 

Maybe he doesn’t have a bed now. He doesn’t have a job, so it’s quite possible that the house he remembers, the one with the bed and his clothes and a telly that doesn’t work, maybe that’s gone too. All his stuff, gone. 

Sherlock gone. 

He’ll cry if he thinks about that. 

He’s already is crying. 

The ground is suddenly closer than he thought. That’s because he’s sitting on the kerb outside 221B Baker Street. His face is wet and the ground is cold and he doesn’t have a place to sleep and all his stuff is gone. 

“Why did you die?” If he were sober, he’d just ask inside of his head, and the Sherlock that lives there would say something cryptic. 

You’re worried they’re right.

Heroes don’t exist.

Alone protects me.

It’s my note.

Mind Palace Sherlock. No, John has never had a Mind Palace. Nothing so grand. He doesn’t have a palace, not even one tiny bedsit now. 

If he went home, if he had a home, he could sit in his chair and close his eyes and pretend Sherlock didn’t die. 

He pulls the bottle out of his pocket. Nearly empty. He could drink it all in one swallow. 

No, he already has. 

The bottle clinks on the pavement. He tries to be careful when he puts them in the recycling bin, not let them clink against one another. That sound bothers him, shames him that there are so many. 

Ashamed, he sits on the kerb, his feet in the road. Maybe he should just lie down in the road. Nobody would be surprised if he died that way. Better than a bullet. Better than drinking himself to death. 

Rising to his feet, he sways. It’s a bad idea, standing up, but he wants to lie in the middle of the road and go to sleep. And never wake up. 

He grasps at the air, trying to regain his balance, and finds he’s leaning against a car. A black car. The door opens and someone gets out. 

Well, this will be embarrassing. For both of us.

Mycroft doesn’t pick up drunks. When necessary, he has people who do that for him. People who do his dirty work, clean up the vomit and wipe the blood off the upholstery. 

No, they’re not getting into the car. The dirty work bloke is carrying him towards the door.  And there’s Mycroft with the key, opening it. 

“I’ve got you, John,” the dirty work bloke says. “You’re okay. You’re fine.”

He smells so familiar. That coat. “Sherlock,” he whispers. “Don’t be dead.”

He’s floating up. Up, up. It feels nice. The way home used to feel.

So gently, he’s laid down in a bed. A hand strokes his hair. “John.”

He’s crying. “Stop being dead.”

“Hush, John. I’m not dead. Remember? I came back.”

“But… but.” He’s not in the street. Clue: no cars. Soft. Warm. Ah, bed. 

Someone is putting a pillow behind his head. It’s nice. 

“John, sit up and have some water.”

“I got married,” he announces. “Did I get married?”

“You did.” 

It’s the voice he remembers, the one that gives him shivers. “Am I dead?”

“No, you’re not.” A hand on his hair. “Hush, you’re safe. Rest now.”

In the other room, they’re talking softly to one another. 

“How many times, Sherlock? He needs medical care. Rehab.”

“No, Mycroft. No hospitals. I’ll take care of him. Molly’s got Rosie for now, and Harry’s coming tomorrow.”

“Don’t be selfish, Sherlock. Are you sure this is what he’d want?”

Their voices are quieter now, further away. 

“I have to fix this. I want to.”

“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it. Call me.”

In the silence, he drifts. He and Sherlock were in a pub, he thinks. 

No, they were playing a game. I’m you, aren’t I?

He’s chasing a hound through the mist…

Sherlock is standing on the roof...

A gunshot, and he runs… don’t be dead…

Stay with me…

Goodbye, John…

He sobs. “Why are you still dead? I asked you to come back.”

He feels himself gathered into strong arms. “I heard you. I’m here.”

“Every time you say that, you leave me. Every time, you’re dead.”

He touches the face he loves. His fingers come away wet. Sherlock is crying. 

“Please, John. You have to stop this. Stay with me, please.”

I’m not the one who leaves, he thinks. I’m the one who’s alone.

“All right.” Sighing, he leans into the vision. They’re standing under a starry sky, and it’s beautiful. Sherlock is beautiful. 

“I love you,” he says, smiling up at him. “Always meant to say. I love you.”

Sherlock kisses him “I love you too. Stay with me.”

--

Please read the next one too! Imagine. A 1024-word fixit for Series 3-4.