#his charm spell on the guard who was supposed to be watching is definitely going to wear off

[running-with-kn1ves]

Heyyyy it’s me again with a new pairing. Reader is a werewolf and a mother of two young boys, on the run. She finally mange to escape this research faculty of “obscene abnormalities”, after being sold to them by her own pack 🥲. After going through that ordeal she’s a very skittish and anxiety ridden, but has a strong sense of protectiveness and obligation to her sons. She been too many towns under many names. Done many jobs from school teacher, waitress,construction worker, miner,etc. The time period I would like to imagine is the Wild West but replace the cowboys with monster hunters… so the hunter west with cars and fridges (cringe I know 😅). After recently settling down and getting a job as a waitress in the town’s local diner. After some convincing she enroll her sons in the town’s local school. Of course she doesn’t let walk by themselves, even if they have the strength have 5 grown men 👀. She saw this coming, they are couple years away from entering junior high and like any other kid (especially ones who been tucked in the house for so long) want to go out and interact with others and basically have a social life, and school is the perfect place for that. Werewolfs are naturally social animals just like humans and subconsciously sought bonds with others. like reader who even though she got abandoned and betrayed by those who were suppose to be closest to her she still yearns to connect with others outside of her home. So the type of yandere that would perfectly pair with this type of reader is the “price charming w/ hero complex” yandere. He would come and help her and solve her problems or when she’s in a minor inconvenience. This type of man he would know to be patient and to be slow with the build up of boldness because he know what type of woman reader is. He would cause most of her problems and then come to “rescue” her. He becomes her resident handyman, driver, body guard, baby sitter, etc. Definitely get her guard down but making himself seem harmless by targeting her kids. Like saving them from getting hit by a car, letting her get rest for once by watching her kids for awhile, fixing broken things around her run-down house. And over time she’ll relax. condition her to not only think but feel like she needs to rely on him. She scared for her developing feelings but she reassures her and encourages her, so she lets herself go. But when she find out he’s not only part of the town’s resident hunter group (consists of the most strong men in town) but leading? Oh, boy would a conflict 😮‍💨. How you like it? 😅. I tired to keep it vague because I wanted your two cents in it ☺️

ooh, kind of a shift of power in this one. While the reader is still somewhat under his spell, she's kind of got strength of her own as a werewolf as well, unlike usual. I love it when the reader or protag has an ability of their own! It always gives them a bit more uniqueness, but also opens the door for their yandere to poke fun at them even more. All that strength and they still managed to capture the reader.

I like this! Especially with the addition of the readers kids, as it brings more possibilities for how the yandere reacts, whether they see her kids as pawns, or if he becomes even more attached because of the children. I think that also makes it harder/easier to capture the reader. If the kids love him, its hard to tell them no and leave since they seem to be lacking in a father figure! But if they don't like him, or he has the intention of kidnapping, it would be much more difficult. (little werewolves don't seem like the best victims you would want, nonetheless a fully grown one.)

I wonder how the hunter would react to finding out she's a werewolf, or if he already knows! If he already knows, it sounds like he plans on using his hunter status as a threat. He's their leader, the 'alpha' you could say. With how much he influences the other hunters, he could very well put the reader or her children in the spotlight if he so desires. But I wonder if he would ever do that, or if its just a threat in order to trap his darling.

If he doesn't know, well, I wonder if that would change his mind. Or, if it would make the reader all the more desirable. Maybe the irony is intoxicating to him, the idea of taming the beast he's spent so long hunting. Maybe he'll still play the 'savior' role, telling the reader he'd never let the others get to her. This comes with the idea in mind though, of why he hunts werewolves; especially if he's more of a 'poacher' instead. I wonder if werewolves are like exotic creatures to him, ones he has a sick fascination with.

Either way, this idea is a lot of fun and has a lot of potential-- I like that he and the reader seem 'almost' equal in strength, maybe one side having more than the other. After all, the reader IS a werewolf, but the hunter on the other hand is experienced in killing her kinds, and has a group of others lined behind him.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Dramione RomCom Fest (Part 1)

Dramione RomCom Fest 2020:

12 Years and 3 Months by pixiedustandbluebutterflies - T, one-shot - As news of their engagement takes Wizarding England by storm, elusive power couple Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are finally sharing their love story in this Witch Weekly interview!

50 (First) Dates with Hermione Granger by HufflepuffMommy - G, WIP - Draco Malfoy sets his heart on romancing Hermione Granger, but she has short-term memory loss; she can't remember anything that happened the day before. So every morning, Draco has to woo her again. Her friends are very protective, and Draco must convince them that he's in it for love. Plot (andsummary) taken from the movie "50 First Dates" for the Dramione RomCom fest!

About Time by WordsmithMusings - E, WIP - When Draco's Father reveals to him that the men in their family have the ability to travel back in time, he uses his newfound gift to do many things - save a life, be a better friend, reconnect with a witch, and fall in love.

All's well that ends well (to end up with you) by weestarmeggie - M, one-shot - Hermione Granger is all set to be the maid of honor at her best friends wedding. She is taken back when she finds out that the best man is none other than her ex-fiance.

Away by In_Dreams - E, WIP - Desperate for a change of pace, Hermione unknowingly commits to a home exchange with Pansy Parkinson and finds herself swept up in the chaos of New York City and into the arms of Draco Malfoy. Dramione/Hansy. Loosely inspired by The Holiday.

Bells on a Hill by HeyJude19 - T, WIP - Left by his fiancée a month before the ceremony, Draco never got his dream wedding, so agreeing to assist Granger with her own wedding planning to distract himself from his broken engagement seems like a great idea—though Draco probably shouldn't fall in love with the bride-to-be. Based very (very) loosely on The Wedding Singer.

Chasing the Future by Rdlentz8 - T, WIP - An unusual and anonymous Patronus finds a frustrated Hermione alone in the library and talks to her about being lonely. Could this be the push she's needed to change her fate? Inspired by A Cinderella Story. There are direct quotes from A Cinderella Story.

Domino Effect by KoraKwidditch - M, WIP - Resolved to live her life in Muggle London, Hermione Granger finally felt free. Free from the Ministry, free from her celebrity status and everything that entailed. But who knew that one cataclysmal incident would lead her straight into the Malfoy's den and down a series of unfortunate events? At least they think she's a Muggle.**A Dramione retelling of While You Were Sleeping**

Fairytales and Wishes by Charlie9646 - T, one-shot - All Scorpius wants is for Hermione to be a nice step mother, but somehow that sort of gets lost in translation with his accidental magic.

Flipping Through the Pages by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns - T, WIP - Draco Malfoy had a fascination with a popular book series and its writer. His life changes when he meets her.

The Hate List by bethelson - T, WIP - While chaperoning the post graduation trip, Hermione and Draco find themselves wandering the streets of Paris in the middle of the night, fruitlessly searching for the seventh years they were supposed to be in charge of. What Hermione doesn’t know, is that those seventh years struck a bargain with Draco to keep her occupied so they could sneak out for a last hurrah before they all head back to London. So in his efforts to derail her search, he convinces her to join him in their own night of frivolity. As they paint the city red, they slowly learn to let their guards down, and find that putting the past behind them allows them to finally focus on the present. ___ My contribution to the Dramione RomCom Fest!

Hollywood & Vine by dreamsofdramione (Bugggghead), msmerlin - M, WIP - As the manager of an occult bookstore currently renting a room from an old friend and living paycheck to paycheck, Hermione wasn’t exactly living the Hollywood dream. But her life is turned upside down when a chance encounter with Tinseltown’s current heartthrob, Draco Malfoy, leaves her questioning everything she thought she knew about life and love. or the one in which Hermione unintentionally falls in love with a movie star.

Home is Where the Heart Is by lrs002 - T, one-shot - A rewrite and Draco/Hermione look at basically the last scenes of the movie Sweet Home AlabamaOr in the other words: The Wedding and the Kiss

How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days by GracefulLioness - E, WIP - Hermione will do anything to prove to her boss at Witch Weekly that she's ready to take on more serious topics, including dating a man just to drive him away for the sake of her next column, How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days. But pushing Draco Malfoy away proves to be a challenging task, perhaps because he's got ten days to make her fall in love with him. Inspired by How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.

It Happened One Knight by Klawdee - T, WIP - “A spoiled heir running away from his family is helped by an old classmate, who is actually a journalist in need of a story.” Based off of the 1934 film, It Happened One Night

It's All In The Malfoy Family by TwilightToMidnight - M, one-shot - Over a decade of longing and desire comes to fruition one night. Not quite the way Hermione expected but definitely with a bang. Everyone and their dog seem to be working against her. For the 2020 Dramione RomCom Fest. Loosely based off Sabrina (1954 - with Audrey Hepburn).

Love, Actually in Dramione by Blessedindeed - G, one-shot - I absolutely love the movie "Love, Actually" and was so excited to make some art pieces from a few of the more memorable scenes! Many thanks and kudos to QuinTalon & NuclearNik for hosting and being such amazing encouragers to everyone! I cannot wait to dive into all these fun pieces!!

Love, Hermione by pandora_rose_xo - G, WIP - When Hermione leaves some personal letters lying around in a sleepy haze, Dobby comes across them, and trying to be helpful delivers them to their recipients. Who were never supposed to see them.

Metamorphosis by persephone_stone - T, WIP - Draco Malfoy is king of Hogwarts High—student body president, captain of both the water polo and basketball teams, and boyfriend of Astoria Greengrass, the hottest girl in school. That is, until said girlfriend returns from Spring Break with some unexpected news: she’s dumping him for a college boy. Now, Draco is on a mission to win her back. And who better to help him turn into a more intellectual, cultured version of himself than Hermione Granger, the smartest girl in school? As he and Hermione spend time together, will Draco learn how to be the right type of boyfriend for Astoria? Or will he instead learn that maybe Astoria is not the right type of girl for him? Written for the Dramione RomCom Fest, based on the 90’s teen romcom She’s All That.

Midnight in Paris by Aneiria - E, one-shot - ‘Granger,’ Draco replied, casting a quick wandless charm to clean his own clothes. ‘Want to watch the magic you’re casting next time? Whatever spell that was, it nearly took both of us out.’ Hermione’s face settled into a frown of confusion. ‘I thought that was you,’ she said, hesitantly. ‘I wasn’t using magic.’ They both looked away at the same time, taking in their surroundings. ‘Where are we?’ Hermione wondered out loud, as she spun on the spot and took in the sights. It was the wrong question, really.

My Big Fat Muggle Wedding by BiscuitsForPotter - G, one-shot - Draco's gotten more used to having Muggles as future-in-laws, but what about his parents?

No More Waiting by anchoredto717 - T, one-shot - The end of Hogwarts, an impending Mastery, and confirmation that Hermione is well and truly over Ronald Weasley: three factors that push Draco into a place he never imagined. Is he really going to Harry Potter’s house party? A one shot heavily inspired by the 90s teen classic, Can’t Hardly Wait.

Off the Rails by RoseHarperMaxwell - E, WIP - For the Dramione RomCom Fest 💚 My adaptation of the movie Trainwreck (Amy Schumer/Bill Hader), featuring Draco in Amy's role. “Pans.” Draco’s head falls back petulantly. “I can't interview Granger, especially not about how she's healing Potter. Neither of them are going to want to talk to me. Make Creevey do it.” “No, you'll do it. And don't sulk at me, Draco.” Pansy shuts him down immediately, not that he expected to talk her out of it. She gives assignments, not suggestions. “Old Quidditch rivalries. Gryffindor Princess confiding in the Prince of Slytherin, with a side of The Boy Who Lived. You’re the only one for it.” She drops her pen on her notepad with finality. “She’s also fit as hell now. I’d even fuck her, so our readers will be drooling over her. This is easy, Draco. Don’t fuck it up.”

One Thing We've Got by IrisCalasse - M, WIP - Over a decade after the Second Wizarding War, Draco Malfoy is a broke socialite straddling the Muggle and magical worlds. One day a new neighbour moves in his residential complex. What has happened to Hermione Granger to make her hide from Ronald Weasley? If Cormac McLaggen is gay, why is he hanging around Granger so much? And why does her cat seem to know way too much about everything? Based on the plot of Breakfast at Tiffany's, but set in 2012 London with a magical twist. Updates every 16th of the month.

Pin down your heart by hiyas - G, one-shot - Hermione Granger contemplates a door when Destiny comes knocking.

Playing Cupid by tygermine - T, one-shot - Set It Up AU.

Pretty Witch by TakingFlight48 - E, WIP - When confronted with the opportunity to take on an alter ego - Hermione Granger, Potion's Mistress and the Wizarding World's Golden Girl became Vivian Roberts - London's weekend escort. For three years she lived in this duality until Draco Malfoy, lost in Soho and driving a precious DB6, wound up uncovering her secret. This is the tale of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy finding a balance between work and love through the guise of fake dating, unacknowledged feelings, and Hermione not wanting to let go of a part of herself that is no longer serving her.

Promises, Promises by Musyc - T, one-shot - Lawyer and social work advocate Hermione Granger is one signature away from fulfilling her dream to have a house-elf education program. All she needs is to seal the deal, and Draco Malfoy has promised the full support of Malfoy and Son Developments. But the owner of the property is balking, there's a new buyer in the mix, and a promise isn't a contract.

The Proposal by FaeOrabel - M, WIP - When Head of Creatures Division of the DMLE, Hermione Granger, is pushed into a corner regarding a new marriage law she doesn't want to comply with, she gets the brilliant idea to stage an engagement with her long time, loyal assistant, Draco Malfoy. Draco goes along with the charade on the condition she gets him promoted to a new position. A deal set, they prepare to fool not only the Minister of Magic, but Hermione's best friend, and Draco's entire family. What could go wrong? Just the threat of Azkaban should they fail.

PS I love you by emotionalsupporthufflepuff - M, WIP - After a tragic accident, Hermione must reintroduce Draco to a life they've built far away from home. She recieves unexpected help in a series of letter written by Draco himself before the accident...

Regrets Only by nztina - T, WIP - Draco and Hermione are the best of friends - until Hermione goes off to teach at Hogwarts and Draco realises that he doesn’t just miss her. Upon her return to London, he intends to reveal his feelings, but she has a surprise of her own, one that will definitely put a damper on Draco’s plans. Draco. Hermione. And...Hermione’s fiancé?

Restless in Ripon by QuinTalon - T, WIP - Scorpius Malfoy wants his father to be happy again and as his grandfather often told him, a Malfoy always gets what he wants. A nosy radio host, well-meaning friends, and fate will help bring two lonely souls together. Well, that and one tenacious eight-year-old.

Rushing Back by floorcoaster - M, WIP - Draco Malfoy is thirty, surviving, and very much not thriving. He's near the utter end of himself when he experiences the worst of all possible bad days--a double betrayal that rocks him to his core. Unmoored, untethered, he winds up in a strange place, where he begins an adventure through time that will change the course of his life. A time travel fic with a twist on the movie "13 Going on 30."

Say Anything by MidnightValkyrie - G, 9 Chapters - To know Draco Malfoy is to love him. Hermione Granger is about to know Draco Malfoy. Written and created for the Dramione RomCom Fest, based on Say Anything.

She's the Snake by monsterleadmehome - E, WIP - In a universe where Voldemort never came back, Harry lives with Sirius, and Dumbledore isn't dying, the worst thing the Golden Trio has to contend with is their grades and Quidditch matches... oh, and the recent magical attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns. Harry is sure Malfoy had something to do with it, and though Hermione doesn't agree, her sarcastic offer somehow turns into her latest nightmare: to go undercover as a boy in the Slytherin dorms and find out what's really going on. And maybe throw a Quidditch game or two. But there's one thing she hasn't prepared for: falling in love with the boy she's supposed to be spying on.

Signed and Sealed by niffizzle - M, WIP - She owns a children's bookstore. He runs a corporation buying significant shares of small businesses. Never in their lives have Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy gotten along — or so they think.

Timing is Everything by anne_ammons - M, 7 Chapters - Draco Malfoy is your average bachelor living an average bachelor's life, until he crosses paths with his former classmate, Hermione Granger. Strike that - when has Draco Malfoy ever been average? A retelling of the 1994 movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Dramione-style.

A Trip to Kouloura Beach by rennaissance_woman - one-shot - A day at the beach, what could happen?

The Truth About Kneazles and Crups by samkablam7 - T, WIP - When Draco Malfoy started hosting his wizarding radio show The Truth About Kneazles and Crups, he had no idea that it would bring Hermione Granger back into his life. He also didn't know that they would both be interested in each other. The only problem? She thinks that the radio host she's interested in is his best friend and Pro-Quidditch-player-wannabe, Blaise Zabini.

Untitled Marital Crisis Comedy by Darlingheart - G, one-shot - Draco is rich, handsome, and most importantly, excellent with the ladies. Harry Potter is not. Which is where Draco comes in. With Draco’s help Harry will learn there’s more to life than being a one-woman man. But what happens when Draco meets someone who changes his mind? And what does Hermione Granger have to do with it...

A Woman of Some Dignity by mcal - G, one-shot - That seemed to get his attention. “What are you—of course I respect you, you daft witch!”

“Your actions today show the opposite!” I answered. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m a woman of some dignity and I’d like to shower in peace. You’ll kindly wait half an hour before Apparating back to my flat.”  Hermione's not one for diaries, but it's been a week to say the least. It all started off with a confusing meeting with Draco Malfoy in her office, and... well, Hermione thought maybe recording her thoughts on the events would help her process. She isn't wrong.

You lost and lonely, You just like heaven by Wake_The_Dragon - T, WIP - Dramione Romcom Fest. Hermione Granger had needed something new and a change of scenery was a good start. What she hadn't counted on was renting a flat with an annoying (if handsome) ghost, who claims he isn't dead. Somehow, helping out a ghost and falling in love were two things she hadn't bargained for.

You Wish by Talonwillow (Ehollis303) - T, WIP - What makes a bad case of "Black Cat Flu" more tolerable? Young Perseus is learning that hearing about dueling, torture, revenge, giants, dementors, chases, true love, and miracles from his Grandfather Scorpius certainly makes things easier- If the man would finish the story that is. A story about love, where not even death can keep the beautiful feisty stable-girl and her sometimes irritating one true love apart. Together they must battle the evil Lord Voldemort through an adventure crossing the magical and fairy tale realm.

[recreancyrpg]

BASICS.

NAME. Reginald “Reggie” Cattermole AGE. 24 ALUMNI HOUSE. Slytherin BLOOD STATUS. Half-blood FACECLAIM. Joe Keery

HISTORY.

Reggie never thought much about the Order of the Phoenix or the Death Eaters. He barely even thought about the Ministry of Magic, except as something to avoid getting pinched by. He had plenty of problems of his own without getting caught-up in all this blood-status nonsense that the privileged people were fighting each other over - the people who can afford to care about political issues enough to waste time on a war. Reg was too busy keeping a roof over his head. Hawking your family’s old treasures can only fill the coffers for so long. As the last of the Cattermole bloodline, at least there was no one else to lay claim to the final fragments of their long-dwindled grandeur... but there also wasn’t anyone to rely on when Reggie’s father died over unpaid debts. (The coroner said accident, but Reggie knew his father enough to know better and the bloke who killed him was definitely in what one might call the pro-Voldemort-faction.)

The death didn’t make the debts go away, of course; it just left Reggie holding the bag. Selling the last of the family’s property paid most of it off, and he’s spent the years since living off the remaining scraps while he dealt with all the messes his dad left behind. By the time those scraps ran out, it was a little late to look for a proper job (who would hire him now?), but on the upside, he had gotten very good at finding the value in refuse. Especially at unlocking the secrets of old spellwork. Most people will throw away an enchanted quill or clock or cabinet once they forget what they’re supposed to do or how to activate their magic - but one wix’s trash is another wix’s gently-used-resold-goods. Does it really matter it’s not always all on the up-and-up? In this world, what is? At any rate he’s become something of an accidental expert in the field of itemized magic - but he never expected that expertise to lead him into a war.

Reggie was actually making a decent (well, perhaps indecent would be more accurate) life for himself. He’d gotten enough gold together to rent a regular stall at the Nightscar Market and was building a reputation to, if not rival that of Borgin & Burke, then at least sidle in at the edges of their clientele and catch the business that was too small for them to bother with. People trusted him to know what he was doing with their trinkets, and he was only blowing-smoke about it half the time. It was surprisingly fun, picking apart the threads of a decaying spell to pull them off of an old necklace or chest or re-weave them back where they belonged; to rehabilitate or re-enchant an old bit of forgotten rubbish and make it good again. There was a satisfaction in that sort of work that Reggie was learning to find contentment in.

That was before a staff made from graveyard dust ended up in his stall. That was before Corban Yaxley came looking to get it back. And that was before Alice Longbottom risked her life to save Reggie. And before Alice turned up the next day asking for help with said staff. Somehow one thing let to another led to another, and now Reggie finds himself a part of the damn Order, helping to deal with both the detritus of battles with Death Eaters as well as coming up with protective amulets and lucky charms to guard against the nasty trinkets that people like them tend to use to supplement their dueling. And the worst part of it? He is actually enjoying himself. Who knew that having friends willing to watch your back would be so nice? Who knew that being trusted would be so addictive? Reggie still doesn’t give a damn about the politics or the cause - but he’d give his life for the people here.

CONNECTIONS.

ALICE LONGBOTTOM. Reggie still doesn’t know what an Auror was doing at the Nightscar Market in the first place, but he hasn’t pressured Alice too much to tell him because he’s just grateful she had been. If not, Yaxley likely would have killed him. If not, he would’ve never found the Order. While he’s not surprised by Alice’s involvement, he doesn’t quite understand it either. She had privilege. Money and good blood-status and the law. What’s she doing here? SEVERUS SNAPE. Never would Reggie have expected his old dormmate to be part of the Order. Not after school, where Snape was so often found with the older boys who were likely all under the Dark Lord’s reign. Reggie himself was often on the outside just a bit. Never targeted but never the center of attention, either. Severus and him weren’t friends, even though they could’ve been had they tried. But, still, it’s nice having a familiar face around. MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER. They aren’t partners, but sometimes Reggie gets his hands on something too hot for his blood, or Fletch “acquires” an item with an iffy enchantment. They’ll cut each other a good deal to help out. It’s a business relationship, that’s all. Although Reggie’s been trying to convince Fletch to let him look at those blasted earrings for years - not because he wants to nick them like Fletch thinks. There’s just something about them...

REGINALD IS TAKEN.

[pixiebuggiewrites]

Sorry Wrong Number!

Masterpost - Previous - Next - Ao3 link

Chapter 2:  Hawkmoth has really bad designs and perhaps even worse timing

Since it was her off night from patrol, Ladybug was the last one onto the scene. She landed down on a building next to Viperion, who was observing the akuma’s skillset as Kuro Neko played distraction down below them.

The villain of tonight's look was... interesting to put it nicely. They were a boy around the same age as the heroes that seemed to be wearing a slightly oversized purple and blue three piece suit with a not-so-subtle lightning pattern running up the arms. His hair was shock white and seemed to be defying gravity while his eyes were protected by bright blue goggles-possibly where the akuma was residing. More importantly, he seemed to be covered in electricity, which was gonna make it difficult to get any hits in. He also had a laptop with him- another contender for the akuma’s hiding place but most likely just a weapon.

Not Hawkmoth’s worst design, but it definitely wasn't his finest work either. Though to be fair she had run around in spotted spandex for two years before she found out she could change her costume, so those in glass houses she supposed.

Viperion, noticing the team leader's arrival began to fill her in on what they knew so far.

“They're calling themselves ‘Elect-Trick’, keeps sending out shockwaves to try and knock us back which is frustrating but our suits seem to take the brunt of it which helps but Neko’s staff is a no go at the moment since there's no way to know if it’ll conduct the electricity.”

It likely would, something they had found out the hard way during the last weather akuma they had to face. While magical it was still metallic in nature sadly, which meant she needed to also be careful with her yoyo. She still isn't really sure what it’s made of besides magic, but this was not the way she wanted to find out.

“Alright, in that case we’ll continue to keep him away from the Eiffel Tower, it’s likely the akuma’s going to try and use it as a large conductor. I’m gonna head down, stay up here and be ready to use your second chance at the signal.” She instructed

Viperion nodded and went back to watching the fight just as Ladybug swooped down to join in. She was just in time as the akuma had begun to corner Neko, who had no choice but to rely on playing defense while her staff was out of the mix. The two heroes nodded their heads in greeting as Ladybug yoyo-d her cat themed friend over putting the duo back on even ground with the villain, who seemed to be ranting about school elections of all things.

Which would be a probable explanation for the first half of his name.

The two continued to fight back against the akuma, neither side quite able to grab the upper hand. Ladybugs yoyo-as it turned out, did not conduct electricity afterall. And, seeing as it's practically indestructible she was able to land hits on the akuma without getting shocked. But the akuma had realized the issue with Neko’s staff and was using that to their advantage, aiming a decent chunk of their attacks at the cat hero which forced them to go back on the defense.

As the fight had been going for over an hour at this point, the spotted heroine decided to bring out the big guns. After doing a silent signal letting Viperion know to start his timer, she got in position to call on her lucky charm.

But she didn't get a chance to. Just as she went to throw her yoyo in the air, Viperion called out a warning that sent a feeling of dread through her.

“LB watch out, There's an amok headed straight for the computer!”  

Sure enough, there was an all too familiar purple feather floating through the air on track for the laptop that she quickly caught and purified it before it could land. Thank the Kwami for the power of second chance, nobody wanted to deal with a sentimonster on top of everything else tonight.

Keeping Kuro Neko on the lookout for anymore feathers, She finally activated her lucky charm. Throwing her yoyo up she manifests… a slingshot! She could work with that, just needed to find ammo. Looking around her eyes land firmly on the window of a small toyshop.

Bingo!

Having Viperion keeping an eye out in case he was needed temporarily as backup, she sneaks over and breaks the window with her yoyo. Typically, the heroine would feel bad about causing this much property damage but tonight she’s tired and wants to get this over with so she can make a plan of action for the whole ‘Mayura seems to be back’ thing with her team and maybe get at least a couple hours of sleep. Anyways her miraculous cure would fix the window and return the bouncy balls she was actively stealing so no harm done? After finishing committing what was technically a misdemeanor, she made her way over to the roof Viperion was on and handed off the slingshot supplies before making her way back down.

Luckily Neko had managed to keep Elect-Trick distracted enough for the team to catch him off guard. On Ladybugs call Viperion began to pelt the Akuma with rubber balls, drawing his sight away for long enough to tie him up and take his glasses. One cataclysm later, the teen had been successfully deakumatized and she was able to cast her cure, fixing the decent chunk of property damage caused that night. After making sure the teen was okay to get home safe and getting his address for the interview she would have to conduct later, she turned to her team.

“Good work today guys, let's meet back at base in 30.” Her eyes communicated the urgency of the meeting despite the neutral tone of voice she tried to maintain.

From there the teens all departed in separate directions to recharge their powers and head to the team's secret base.

----------

Okay so secret base was a bit of an overstatement. It is a secret place that the team uses as a base of operations but it was less of a Batcave and more of a repurposed hotel room in Le Grand Paris.

Chloe had brought up the idea after one too many close calls with Marinette's parents while the girls were investigating Hawkmoth. They needed a place to discuss hero work safely without having to talk in code but the question was where. Obtaining an apartment would be difficult as all of them but Luka were still underage, not to mention the issue of trying to pay rent without any parental suspicion. Luckily for Chloe, it's surprisingly easy to just claim a hotel room without being questioned when your Father owns the hotel.

And while it was no Batcave, it wasn't anything to scoff at either. The four teens had been able to pool together enough money in the beginning for the basics, which meant that now any small snuck away chunks of commission money, music gig payments, competition winnings, and allowances were all able to go to improving things bit by bit.

The room was already quite nice, having a separate bedroom that they used as a gym and a kitchenette that was kept well stocked with kwami snacks. Then there was the  main area, which had been split down the middle. The first side was dedicated to the investigation and housing Marinette's Guardian materials, While the second half was a hangout zone where they could chat or decompress after any particularly rough fights.

The base was also secure, Marinette had put so many spells and protections on the room with the help of the kwami that it might as well be a pocket dimension of sorts. The magical security system of sorts was extremely complicated, being tied to the teams auras in a way so that the only way to even find it without being one of them was to be taken there by Ladybug herself. It had taken weeks to pull off but was well worth it to give her team a place that was safe from the outside world.

Ladybug was the first to arrive this time, having flopped down into a chair at their meeting table as her two friends entered the room and joined her. They all sat there for a moment, processing the fact of Mayura’s return. Of course this would happen when they were down a member, it wasn't a complete surprise that the peacock miraculous would come back into play at some point but it was really bad timing.

“So what exactly is the plan?” Viperion asked, finally breaking the silence.

Ladybug sighed, knowing that their workload was going to increase once again. At least it was close to summer vacation.

“First we need to increase patrols- especially around the typical hot spots, Neko do you think we’ll be able to finish those jars by this time next week?”

The cat hero nodded “They're almost done, we’ll need to test them somehow though.”

The two of them had recently been working on a variation of an object enchantment technique mentioned in the grimoire. The original object was dubious in nature, having been used as a cage of sorts that kwami wouldn't be able to phase through. Marinette was disgusted by the thought, further feeding into some suspicions she had about the old order. As she was ranting about it to Kagami about it, her fencer friend got an idea for a way to repurpose the spell to trap akuma when Ladybug couldn't easily get to a fight. It would also allow them a new way to prevent possessions when Ladybug wasn't actively on patrol.

“That's good. Lastly I need Bee’s new number, I was going to ask you for it tomorrow but I need to give her a heads up to start on a new case file. We also might want to move up our plans to contact the heroes there.”

Kuro Neko quickly jotted down the number on a nearby notecard and handed it to Ladybug. After hammering out a few last details about their new patrol schedules the heroes were all free to head home for the night.

The trip home was uneventful, and she arrived home to see that it was just past midnight. She also noticed that her bath bomb had been fixed! It was sometimes a gamble on if something like that would count as akuma damage so it was a nice victory after the day she’s had.

Marinette quickly put in Chloe's number, eager to get to bed. She sent her blonde friend a summary on what happened and let her know to be on the lookout for an email tomorrow with the information to assemble a case file. And with that, Marinette drifted off to sleep.

She had made a small mistake though. In her tired state the young designer’s finger slipped, putting a 5 where there was meant to be a 4.

Meaning Chloe Bourgeois was not the recipient of her intended message.

Good thing she wrote the message in code?

----------

Across the ocean, Damian Wayne received a strange text message.

--------------------------------------------

Taglist (open!!): 

@queencommonsense

[sardonic-courtney]

Crowley x Reader. We Met Before. Part 7/7

Summary: You end up living with Bobby after your parents die. You go to church and meet Priest Crowley and you end up getting along (if you know what i mean). A few years later when Bobby passes you move the the bunker with Sam and Dean and end up meeting Crowley again.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Warings: Mentions of death, Maybe spelling and language. Age gap.

Around  5000 words.

A little note before we start, this is a lonnnggg one. To be honest I didn’t want to separate it into 2 parts, but hopefully it doesn’t drag..... 

A Confused Y/N, A Supportive Sam and A Oblivious Dean.

But no matter what crossed your mind, you would never have known what had been locked up right under your feet for the past 9 days...

**Crowley’s life after he left.

That month had been the best Crowley had in a long time, honestly, he was only supposed to be covering for that damned pastor for a week, but after some convincing, he managed to get 4. He would have stayed longer if he could, but unfortunately, duty called.

“Winchesters, bloody Winchesters. Always getting me tangled up in their messes.” Crowley muttered sitting on his throne.

It had been 2 months since he’d spoken to (Y/N). He felt guilty, really guilty, which was an emotion he thought had long passed him. He didn’t want to just leave her and not contact her. Especially after that last night. But also knew if he talked to her it would be too tempting to see her again, and he couldn’t get her messed up in the stuff that was going on right now. Not a chance could he put his princess in danger. So, he sent the occasional texts, which never got replied to, it hurt him, but nevertheless, he still messaged in hope.

Then 4 years later he deemed it safe to see you again, seeing as he wasn’t being constantly in the line of danger. But you weren’t at the church anymore, and after asking around had found out you had moved but failed to leave a forwarding address. He told his minions to keep an eye out for you, but nothing. He looked for you, but still nothing. It worried him, he hated feeling like you were either avoiding him or even dead.

Once again, the useless Winchesters stopped him on his search, to tie him to a chair. Of course, he could give up the information and resume… but where would the fun in that be?

*Back to present you.

You all reach the door, and Dean turns to you looking serious.

“I know if anyone can manipulate an answer out it's you, but please be safe and don’t rise to his games okay?”

“Dean, I’ll be fine. He’s locked up, what harm can he do.”

“Right of course. Just don’t like the idea of him…” but before he could finish you rolled your eyes.

“I know, now stop being so protective and open the door.”

He complied, turning back, and opening the door. Dean, followed by Sam walk into the clearing in the room, you still behind them. The light was already on, but your vision was blocked by the boy’s shoulders in your way. ‘honestly these two’ you thought, gently shoving their arms apart to walk forward.

That when you saw him. Sat in the middle of the room.

You froze a second, breath catching in your throat. He was looking down and hadn’t noticed you yet. But you had noticed him. Crowley.

But not your Crowley. No. This one was chained down to the chair like a criminal. Which you supposed he wasn’t far off from one. This one was the daemon you had heard so much about, who caused so many problems.

You tried to remember that when you called his name. “Crowley?” you knew your voice was as confused as you were.

His head snapped up; his frown replaced with a smile. A smile that you hadn’t seen for so long.

“Princess, what a pleasant surprise” he spoke in that same accent, it hadn’t changed a bit.

You were met with a mixture of feelings, fighting the urge to go over and hug him in case he disappeared again. But you didn’t dwell on those feelings and wouldn’t give in to your urge. No, you were with your brothers, and you were too confused.

Crowley, your sweet, charming, comforting Crowley. Was the king of hell?

Instead of thinking anymore, you did what you were best at, and pretended like nothing was different. You were here for information. That was all. All you needed was some clues to a case. No matter how strange it was for you, no matter how hard he would be to crack, that was what you were here for. So, you tried to mentally come up with a plan, seeming to forget all the ideas you had on your way down.

Behind you, Sam and Dean looked at each other, then at you. Watching you shrug and step forward into the design on the floor.

Much to Deans dislike. He noticed a slight change in your behaviour. You seemed less confident than you usually would, and he didn’t like it. Sam on the other hand just put a hand on his shoulder and muttered a “wait”.

You didn’t see or hear this exchange from behind you. You instead fought the urge to look at Crowley in the eyes. As much as you wanted to look at him, really look at him, you couldn’t not now, you knew it would just make the situation harder.

But that didn’t last long when his gravelly voice cut through the silence.

“Something you want love?”

It caught you off guard, made you look up at him, into his eyes for the first time. They brought a slight flutter of emotion through your stomach. God, you missed looking into them. Without thinking you spoke.

“Who is hunting hunters, and where can we find them”. Your voice was quiet and small, just above a whisper.

This made Dean look back at Sam. They knew this was never your tactic. Usually, you were slow, warming up to whoever it was. Then just as slowly twisting into their brain. You were never blunt. This made Dean question bringing you down here even more. He assumed you were scared. Assumed that you weren’t ready to handle being face to face with the King of hell and that stupid smirk on his face. Dean also knew that this ‘method’ wasn’t going to get them anywhere. So, he went to move, to tell you not to bother. But once again was met with Sam’s hand on his shoulder, slightly firmer this time, as he muttered a more determined “wait”.

Unlike Dean, Sam had been coming to a slow realisation. Studying both you and Crowley. He noticed the fact you called him Crowley, even though the boys had never mentioned his name to you. He also noticed the way he called you Princess, a name you had called Sam up about countless times. The way Crowley wasn’t mocking you or being rude. Sam was connecting dots, whereas Dean was assuming Crowley was just acting like this to wind them up.

Whilst this was going on behind you, you were still looking at the man in front of you, who had a small smirk resting on his lips. Not a cruel or mean one, but one that would go hand in hand with the slight chuckle he let out.

Crowley had missed you, seeing you standing here in front of him made him surer of that. He had been staring at you since he heard you call his name. He was taking you in. You had changed in some ways, your hair was different, your voice had changed slightly, you had a new style choice. Your outwards appearance definitely somewhat impacted by the Winchester no doubt. But you were still the same. The way you were slightly nervous around him was the same. The way you fidgeted under his gaze, the same gaze that made you whisper out that question, seemingly without thinking. He had seen that look before when you asked him things without thinking, which was what made him chuckle. You were still the same. So, he decided to play along.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he teased.

Out of a reflex, you repeated your previous question. “I uh, I asked what’s hunting hunters and where can we find them.” Straight after saying this and being met with that bloody smirk you mentally cursed yourself, coming to your senses. As if he would just…

“Vampires”. He replied casually. “A group of vampires, around 10 since I last checked. But I’ve been down here for a while so I’m unsure as to how many now.”

“Vampires? But the bodies aren’t drained, well not all of them why would…” you trailed off, they didn’t kill like vampires would, very little of the evidence found supported vampires.

“Exactly. If you want to kill without being caught, you kill in different methods. Helps throw people off their scent. As for where they are, no idea sorry. They more around a lot, but I could find out with just one call below”. He was still looking at you, no matter how many times your eyes left his, his remained trained on you. It made you feel both nervous and safe. “Anything else?”

You turned to look at the brothers, who were too shocked at the fact he answered you to give a proper reply other than Dean shaking his head no.

“No, that’s it I guess”. You replied turning to look back at him.

“So, I can get rid of these chains then?” he says shaking them around, “they are highly annoying.”

Dean butted in for this one. “Not until you make the call”. Dean didn’t like this. Why would he just give in so easily? Must be a trick, or a plan, or something else. He didn’t know what, but it was something.

Sam just stood there still observing the scene. He remembered the calls you two shared, and the man he had come to know through your descriptions. And in front of him right now wasn’t Crowley king of hell. It was the mysterious man you rambled on about until early in the morning.

“Right of course squirrel, just give me blood and it’s all yours,” Crowley said no longer smiling or smirking, taking his eyes off you looking directly at Dean.

Now, this was Crowley Sam thought. He didn’t know how to feel himself, and he couldn’t imagine how you felt. This is why he suggests “(Y/N) come to the library with me whilst Dean deal with this, I need your opinion on the case, enlighten of your new information.”

You just nodded and followed Sam upstairs.

“Wow, thanks guys” you heard from Dean as the door shut behind you.

You both arrive in the library and Sam looks at you and getting straight to the point asks playfully, “So, that’s mystery man?”

“What? How did you?” you were genuinely confused about how Sam could make the connection that quick.

Sam lets out a light chuckle. “It’s obvious.”

“It is?”

“Well maybe not to Dean, but as soon as he called you princess, I started to figure it out”.

You felt your cheeks heat at this. You were slightly worried about what Sam would say.

“How you feeling?” he asks taking a seat on the table, patting the space next to him.

“Honestly?” you say sitting where his hand was, “confused.”

“Well at least we know he wasn’t avoiding you because he was married”. Sam joked.

That was one of the hypotheticals you had come up with during a chat about why he had left and not contacted you. It was random but seemed like a possibility. He had to go home, back to his life, maybe a wife and kids. You hated the thought and it made you angry beyond belief to think it, but well there was always doubt. But as Sam just said, that was now gone, confusing you more. The realisation of why you hadn’t talked for so long sinking in, most of your anger leaving.

“Yeah, there is that,” you say with the best smile you could muster.

“Talk to me”.

“I just don’t know how to feel Sam. Like he’s here.”

“How did you feel seeing him again, after 4 years?”

“Shocked, happy. I missed him, honestly, I fought the urge to hug him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because it’s too weird. The last time I saw him we were hanging out in a hotel room saying goodbye and now he’s chained up in our basement. He’s not the same guy I knew.”

“Isn’t he?”

“What do you mean? He lied, he’s a daemon, not only the that he’s the king of hell. Someone who put your lives through hell, literally.”

“True, but I’m not so sure. He never outright lied to you, like you he just didn’t mention this part of his life. Plus that guy back there wasn’t the douche bag I know.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right it’s just…what am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want to.”

“Why are you being so cool about this? You should be calling me crazy or lecturing me or, I don’t know something.” You waved your hands around a bit.

“I thought about it, and don’t get me wrong i don’t like him. But I know from the look on your face as soon as you walked in that room you still liked him. I saw the way your breath hitched and the smile you made when you caught his eye. I also noticed the way he was less aggravating when talking to you.”

“This is weird Sam even for us.” You sigh “Do you think there’s a chance he still likes me? God, I sound like such a girl” you laugh out.

You were worried. Not just for the obvious reasons, but also because the feelings you had been suppressing over the last years had suddenly returned, and it made you feel stupid for being like this. Sam understood though.

“I think there’s a very good chance. I saw the way he looked at you.” Sam nudged you causing you both to smile. “Just talk to him, if it’s the same guy it one of the things you two do best.”

“Yeah, I will, after we sort out these vampires. I can’t believe he just gave in.”

“Me neither, you must have him hooked” Sam suppressed a laugh as you rolled your eyes.

“Deans not going to like this.”

“No, no he is not.” Sam agreed, meeting your eye causing both of you to burst out laughing.

“What are you two laughing about?” Dean asked entering the room.

“Nothing” you and Sam stated at the same time, causing another stream of laughs to come out.

When the laughter died down Dean spoke up again, “Right okay…anyway I got the address. Their current place is only an hour away. In an abandoned bakery. But they have gained a few more recruits, now at around 14 of the bastards.”

“14?” you asked worriedly. That was a lot, and from past experiences, you knew that the numbers were always an underestimation. You didn’t like to deal with vampires, the thought of them brought up memories of your parent, plus their teeth were just creepy.

“Yep, what should we do?”

“Get it sorted today. It's only 1 pm now, we can pack our stuff and go there before they kill anyone else.” Sam suggested.

“We need a plan though.” You added.

“Yeah, the plan is to teach them a lesson about going around killing hunters,” Dean added, sticking to his no plan a good plan methodology.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, “I agree with (Y/N) we need at least a basic plan”.

So, you all discussed a plan of attack for the next half hour. Debating what you needed to bring, how you were going to go about hunting them without being overthrown by all of them at once, deciding to stay in a group was a better idea just in case. Then you headed downstairs to the basement again to get the weapons. Crowley was still chained to the chair.

“So, can I go now?” Crowley asked, seeming annoyed at Dean.

“I suppose so.” Dean heads over and unlocks him, breaking the design on the floor and expecting him to vanish, which he doesn’t.

“When are we leaving?” Crowley asks looking at no one in particular as he flattens out his suit.

“We?” Dean asks, but before he could continue his thoughts Sam butted in.

“About 5 minutes, why interested in letting off some steam?”

You smile at Sam thanking him silently.

“Something like that” Crowley adds looking at you, as you pack some weapons into a brown bag.

Then without any more speaking, you find yourself in the back seat of a fully-loaded baby. To your right was Crowley. In front of you was Sam and driving of course way Dean. It is slightly awkward as the car made its way with nothing but the sound of one of Dean’s playlists playing loudly out of the speakers.

This is a great time for you to think, or more specifically worry about what was to come in the next few hours. ‘it’s only vampires nothing to worry about you try to tell yourself. ‘Sam and Dean have dealt with them plenty of times, sure there will be a lot but it’s nothing we can’t handle.

As you were in your head, Crowley was looking at you. He noticed your absent stare out the window, and your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. The movement of your eyebrows as you thought and debated. He could tell you were nervous and on edge about something, about what exactly he was unsure.

Whilst you had been up in the library with the two Winchesters, Crowley had been sitting thinking. He could only guess at how big a part you had in this. Obviously, you were a hunter, but how long had you been? Had you been one when you first met? Did you hate him? Did you want to kiss him a much as he wanted to kiss you?

But sat in the car with you he only had one thing on his mind, what was up with you.

“Love you alright?” he whispered to you below the music so only you would hear.

“Fine” you whispered back not breaking your gaze out the window.

“Don’t lie”, wasn’t a demanding command, but at the same time, his tone told you do not argue.

You sighed and turned to look at him, noticing a genuine worry etched into his features. There it was again that feeling of security that made you want to open up. “It’s just remember how I said my parents died?”

“Of course, I do. That accident in a factory.”

“Right well, it was an abandoned factory, and it wasn’t an accident, it was vampires.” You paused, noticed he wasn't going to say anything and continued. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of vampires after that, they were great hunters you know, and they well. I just don’t want that to happen to anyone else… Plus, they are creepy.” You added on the end hoping to lighten the mood.

Crowley chuckled before looking at you, then slowly reaching for your hand, which you let him take. It was warm and it made butterflied cycle your stomach.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Then as an afterthought, he added more for your sake, “or those two.”

At that you leaned back in your seat, looking forward. Crowley’s hand still entangled with yours on your lap, as he lent into his seat as well. Sam saw this from the mirror and just smiled. Dean oblivious mouthed the words to the eye of the tiger, whilst driving along the bendy roads.

The fight was surprisingly successful. Overall, you had a few cuts and close calls, but it was over. Crowley had stuck keeping an eye on you the whole time, this not being his thing but keeping you safe any chance he got. all 4 of you stopped at a motel on the way back, seeing as it was late and safer to freshen up and sleep then make a drive back in the dark when you were all tired.

So, you pulled up to a motel and got a room. It was a room with one double and a single bed. The same as the three of you usually got. You called dibs on the first shower. After your shower, getting change into something comfortable, you left the bathroom to be met with Sam and Dean waiting. Dean headed into the shower.

When the water turned on Sam turned to you. “Crowley said he was popping back down to hell.”

You nodded not knowing what to say, you were tired and ready to sleep, although part of you was annoyed, he didn’t say goodbye you couldn’t blame him. He was unexpectedly gone for 3 weeks. You yawned, laying down on the single bed. “Goodnight Sam”

“Goodnight sleep well”

And you did. A few minutes after closing your eyes you were out like a light. Which meant you were the first one awake.

Stretching and clicking your back, thanks to the cheap mattress you opened your eyes to the dimly lit room, the source of light being the sun peeing out behind the blinds. Sitting up you look to your right seeing Sam and Dean still asleep on the other bed. To your left you see your phone, checking the time. 11 am. You slept in, and it felt good. Smiling you turned on the bedside light so you could see to get clothes out of your bag. You heard a groan from your right. Dean was up.

“Turn of the light,” he said covering his eyes.

You laughed at his childish tone, “Dean it's 11 I’m getting up whether you like it or not.”

But Dean looked at you the laughed.

“What?” you asked confused.

“Nothin’ just your hair munchkin. It's everywhere”

You rolled your eyes heading to the bathroom to get ready for the short trip back. Your mind kept wandering back to yesterday. Did this mean he was back? Were you two going to hang out again? Did he want to hang out? Was it bad how he still made you feel nervous and excited at the same time? Sam was right he had looked happy to see you.

A knock on the bathroom door snapped you from your thoughts.

“Sorry one sec.” you directed to the other side.

“No worries just letting you know we are dressed and ready to go when you are,” Sam called out.

**Time Skip**

You head back to the bunker, grabbing food on the way back. After getting back you put things away and then all sat in the kitchen, talking about the hunt.

“…the way you sliced his head clean of; I was proud munchkin,” Dean said.

“I learned from the best,” you said building up Dean’s ego before adding “so I guess I should thank you for being such a great teacher, Sam”.

Dean had an offended look and Sam smiled at you before the three of you started laughing again.

“It was weird though Crowley being there right,” Dean said thinking out loud.

That made you quiet, sending a quick look to Sam.

Dean being still oblivious continued, “I think he’s up to something, but it was kind of funny seeing him in the back seat of baby, he looked very out of place. I just hope he’s not going to make a habit of joining us”.

This time it was Sam who sent you a knowing look.

“I’ll be right back just going to grab a book.” You said slipping out from under the wooden table heading to your room to grab the novel you were currently halfway through.

Sam and Dean continued talking.

“I’m not the only one who thinks it's weird right? He must be up to something. Why else would he just give us the information?”

“I don’t know Dean. Maybe he just wanted to be let out so he could go back to do whatever he does.” Sam answered. “Don’t think too hard about it, your head might explode.”

“I won’t but something doesn’t seem right” Dean added before you walked back in, book in hand. You resumed your seating position and began to read.

Sam and Dean started talking again, this time about meaningless things. They tried to include you a few times before giving up as you were too into your book. Or so they thought, in reality, your mind was thinking about yesterday again, and then about before and what was to happen now. You had concluded there was nothing you could do. Deciding to follow Sam’s advice and do whatever felt right when the time came.

4 hours passed, time spent doing a few chores and watching a few episodes of a show you been watching, before being called into the kitchen once again by Dean. It was around 6 pm

“What’s up?” you walk to see Sam and Dean debating something. “Should I be worried?”

“Yes. This is a very concerning matter.” Dean said looking at you seriously.

‘What’ you thought. ‘what could he be on about’.

“what’s the matter now?” you asked.

“Dinner,” Sam answered rolling his eyes at his overdramatic brother.

“How is that a concerning matter Dean?” you say through a breathy laugh.

“Because I’m hungry and we don’t have any food.”

You moved past him to look in the cupboards. There was food. Pasta, rice, sauces. Then in the fridge, there was meat and cheese.

“Just because you can’t make anything other than burgers, doesn’t mean there’s no food Dean. There is loads.”

“I can make other things than burgers,” Dean argued back defensively.

“Really because you never have?” you tease back.

“She has a point dude” Sam adds further annoying Dean.

“Yes, I can, and I have…” Dean goes quiet looking to the right of you.

You follow to where Dean was looking and see Crowley stood about 3 meters away from you.

Dean groans “What do you want now?”

You stay quiet, as does Sam.

“Well seeing as business is now over,” Crowley says turning his body to fully face you. He has dressed once again in a black suit, looking smart. His hair slightly messy, his jaw and chin covered by a thin trimmed beard, and well he looked good. A smirk played on his lips as you met his face, he obviously hadn’t missed the fact you had been looking him up and down.

“Hello Princess, I missed you.”

At this, you couldn’t help but walked up to him and hug him. Head resting in the crook of his neck, your arms on top of his shoulders as he used his grip on your waist to pull you closer. He kissed the top of your head as you muttered an “I missed you too.”

This was a feeling you missed. But before you could get used to it a hand grabbed your arm, lightly pulling you back out of Crowley’s grasp. Accompanied by Dean’s voice. “Woah wait for a goddamn minute. What’s going on here?”

You looked down at the floor. “You uhh…You remember when you came over on my 18th?”

“Yes?” Dean replied unsure of where this was going.

“Well, the ‘friend’ I was hanging out with was Crowley.”

“Excuse me? You mean the guy you were dating?”

You didn’t reply, unsure how to put it. Sure, you went on dates, but you weren’t technically dating, were you?

Dean looked at you then Crowley, then back at you. Taking your silence and an answer. “Crowley? You were dating Crowley? That’s gross he’s like 100 years old, plus don’t even get me started on...”

Your bit your lip, still looking down. You knew Dean would react like this. it was understandable but it still stung. The tone in Deans lecturing voice made you feel small, whereas usually you would brush him off and tell him to shut up, now you had no response.

“Dean” Sam’s voice cut him off, saving you from even more of a lecture.

“What?” Dean turned to look at his brother. “Wait you gotta agree with me here. This is crazy and the fact she didn’t even tell us and, why don’t you look shocked?”

“Dude I knew” Sam stated.

“What, how?”

“It was kind of obvious”.

“What and you're just okay with this?” Dean was nearly speechless, you wished he were fully speechless, it would be easier that way.

“What can I say, man, he’s good to her.”

“He’s…. I’m sorry, has everyone lost their mind. Is this a trick? I swear is Gabriel here or something.”

“No trick Dean, it’s hard to explain, but it’s the truth,” Sam said simply.

Your wish had come true Dean was officially speechless. Looking from Sam to you to Crowley then back again. Crowley made his way over to stand by your side.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you say smiling at him.

Sam looked to Crowley then to you, with his brotherly grin on his face he said, “Go catch up, I’ll deal with him.”

Crowley puts his hand on your shoulder causing you to face him. “Seeing as you now know we can go anywhere. Where shall we go?”

“Anywhere?”

“Yes”

“Well, I do believe you promised me a trip to {D/P}.”

THE END

Little Extra:

Crowley pulls you into a kiss and you blip out of the room.

“Did they just?” Dean asks Sam.

“Yep”

“But why would?”

Sam chuckled leading his brother to sit down. “Common I’ll tell you about it”.

“She just kissed a bloody daemon… I think I’m gonna throw up”.

A/N... Well i guess that's that then. I’ve been going over this for the past like week debating if it’s the right ending or not but I can’t really see where else to go. I’m also not sure if I’m going to add another short shot after touching on their little trip to make up for the lack of ‘romance’ in this but we shall see. Thanks for reading guys.

[dimitribelikov]

The Belikov Chronicles: The Tasha Conundrum Pt.1

✶ I was curious about Dimitri’s past with Tasha, so here’s a rewritten scene from Frostbite in his POV, but with added background of how those two met. ✶ notes : All dialogue between Dimitri, Rose, and Adrian are straight from Frostbite, chapter 13. The rest is mine, based on characters written by Richelle Mead. ✶ warnings : mild language ✶ ships : romitri, hints of Dimitri/Tasha ✶ more one-shots featuring my version of Dimitri can be found here

                                                                 ✶✶✶

      Everything was chaos. Complete and utter disarray. Strigoi attacks like this were unheard of. I wasn’t sure what was more infuriating though, the attacks themselves or the way the Moroi would rather talk out of their asses and argue for hours instead of actually doing something about it. The meeting was going in circles and I could feel my frustration steadily growing with every new, outlandish proposal made. It wasn’t until Tasha flipped the script with her little display that I actually felt a bit of hope. No way would people get on board with her stance of fighting quickly, but it was a step in the right direction. Watching her talk with such passion, the heat of the argument alight in her eyes, it was overwhelming. She was beautiful and the kind of leader that these aimless, rich, assholes needed.

My friend was pretty amazing, I had to admit. Though despite the heated climate around me, I could help but wonder for a moment if she was my friend. Did that term still apply? Since she’d come back into my life, she’d been not-so-subtly pushing for something more. It could be easy to go along with, but something still held me back. A something that I suspected was sitting next to me at that very moment.

Thankfully, I didn’t have much time to ponder my upside down love life. Fire lit up in the audience and with it, panic erupted. I stood to my feet immediately, ready to jump into action if the arguments turned physical. It was a worry in vain, though, seeing as the entire point of the argument was the Moroi’s refusal of fighting with their fists and magic. Surveying the scene only irritated me further. No decisions were going to be made and I wanted to get away from the crowd to see if any more insights were made from the attacks. “You might as well leave. Nothing useful’s going to happen now,” I told Rose and Mason who had stood with me.

As I started to leave, I realized that my only companion was Rose. Mason was too fascinated by the scandal, apparently. As I fell in step with her, letting the sounds of the arguments die away, I realized how strange it felt to suddenly be alone with her. I last saw her at Tasha’s Christmas gathering, but that was a strained time. The memory of our kiss was still fresh and I was doing everything I could to ignore the effect it had on me. Since then, she’d been downright cold towards me. I wasn’t entirely sure why. I suppose because I canceled the rest of our lessons? It didn’t really make much sense to me, though.

Almost as if she could read my mind, Rose provided the answer herself. “Should’t you be in there protecting Tasha? Before the mob gets her? She’s going to get into big trouble for using magic like that.”

I arched an eyebrow at her, picking up instantly on the tone of her voice. Rose actually sounded jealous. Of Tasha. I had been spending a lot of time with the Moroi, but I couldn’t quite place where this newfound vehemence was coming from. “She can take care of herself,” I commented. I found myself wanting to pick at this wound more, to find out exactly what was going on inside her head. Yet at the same time, I was definitely afraid of what I might find.

“Yeah, yeah, because she’s a badass karate magic user,” Rose continued on, letting her emotions lead the conversation. “I get all that. I just figured since you’re going to be her guardian and all . . .”

That brought me to a halt. I knew gossip at the Academy traveled like wildfire, yet somehow, I always felt like I was exempt since I was a guardian. Apparently not. This was exactly what I didn’t want. I still hadn’t given Tasha my answer but it was already dictating my life. Was this the reason Rose had been so cold? Had been avoiding me like the plague? Had been all over Mason? I quickly pushed the last thought out of my head the moment it had sprung up. Mason was a good guy. I knew better than to make this about me. And if Rose had a chance for some happiness with someone deserving of her, then I wouldn’t stand in the way.

But me and Tasha . . .  That was an entirely different matter. I didn’t really know how I felt about the woman still defending her political views in ballroom. We first met when I had just turned nineteen. A bunch of the royals were on a winter getaway in Aspen, Colorado. Snowmass, to be exact. It was a small enough town that made it easier to guard. Plus, there’s a Moroi run ski resort in the mountains there, just like the one in Idaho. My charge, Ivan, had a few friends going for what was sure to be a rowdy, fun packed weekend. I was working, of course, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t have a bit of fun, too.

The first night there was a small gathering in the suite belonging to a Drozdov. Tasha had been invited, though I can’t really remember why. She was clearly an outcast, not quite fitting in. I’d heard the stories, and saw the truth of them in the scar that marred her otherwise flawless complexion. Just because she wasn’t popular, didn’t mean she shied away from the conversations. She was a bit older than me, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward around her. Such beauty and strength wrapped up in a “I don’t give a shit” attitude had caught my attention right away.

The topic of fighting was brought up. One of the Drozdov guys was boasting about “easy” it was to be a guardian. He’d had more than his fair share of vodka shots at that point, which made it hard to actually take offense. He balled up his fist and punched the air for emphasis.

Tasha laughed, bringing everyone’s attention on her. She set down the vodka bottle and stood up. “You’d break your fist instantly, Nik. You have to wrap your thumb like this.” She demonstrated and threw a punch to the air. This was met with whoops from the group, encouraging more. It was every bit as taboo a subject to talk about Moroi fighting then as it is now. There was something scandalous about the conversation topic and the drunken Moroi wanted to encourage more of it. I exchanged a glance with a fellow guardian. We hadn’t been drinking and I could tell that he was as amused as I was.

"You couldn’t break through a sheet of paper with that punch,” Nik laughed.

Rolling her eyes, Tasha responded, “So I don’t have the strength you do in my stick arms, but at least my bones will stay in tact.”

“The power doesn’t come from your arm.” It was me who had spoken, moving away from the wall as I approached her. I tried to push the awkwardness aside, wanting to seem “cool” in her eyes. I’d always had something of a show-off nature and couldn’t help but join in with the taboo conversation. “It’s your hips,” I told her. By now, the entire crowd had fallen to a hush, watching a very unprecedented display with rapt fascination. I got into a fight stance and slowly showed her how to rotate the hips. “Turn like this, use your back foot to put all your weight into the punch, and that’s where you get your strength. The hips. And your hips look more than capable to me.”

The loud cackle I heard belonged to my friend. “Oh Dimka! Beware ladies, he slays more than just Strigoi!”

I dropped my hands and shot Ivan a look. It was Tasha who had pulled my attention again. “Dimka?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied me with curiosity.

“Just a nickname,” I answered with a little shrug.

“I like it.”

Her smile was infectious and I soon found myself forgetting about Ivan’s teasing. We dropped all notions of fighting after that, but Tasha remained at my side the rest of the party. The next evening, we even found time to sneak off together and talk the whole night away in front of a large fireplace in one of the common rooms. There was nothing illicit about it, though. She was pretty and I admired her spirit, but the more we talked and got to know one another, I found something more valuable than a vacation romance. She was someone I could be myself around. Ivan was really only other person I’d ever felt that way about. She even liked my outdated taste of music. We could talk about everything from superficial, amusing topics, to the more serious things such as Moroi politics and even her darkened past. There wasn’t an ounce of judgement from either of us. Even though we’d only known each other three days, at the end of the vacation, it felt as though I’d known her my whole life.

Tasha was a true friend, through and through. We’d kept in contact over the years, but our relationship never seemed anything more than friendly. It wasn’t until she’d showed up at the Academy for her nephew, Christian, that she started hinting at wanting more. Did I want more? The first time we had kissed had been Christmas night, after her party. It was nice, enjoyable. We know each other so well already that there was no fear, no apprehension. Kissing her was comforting, and safe.

But what was safety what I wanted? Or was it danger that always appealed to me more. When her lips had met mine, I couldn’t help but think of Rose’s kiss in the gym just days before. Every part of it was wrong, but there was no denying the passion of that kiss. While under the effects of Victor’s lust charm months before, I had grown a new appreciation for her. Of course the feel of her half naked body underneath mine would light up my dreams for years to come, but it couldn’t compare to that kiss.

There was no charm or spell to dictate us. It was driven solely by Rose’s passion . . . and as much as I don’t want to admit it, mine as well. It had set a fire inside me, making my mind beg for more. Rose was unpredictable, even by my standards, and not knowing what she’d do next thrilled me. Of course my logic had caught up and I put an end to it at once, but the truth was still there. Rose’s kiss had left far more an impression than Tasha’s ever could.

Yet my old friend had offered the perfect solution. Rose could never be, no matter how much my heart yearned for her. Tasha, however, was proposing an ending that would not only keep Rose and Lissa safe and happy, but allow me to live a dream that most dhampirs were never given. Surely I could learn to love Tasha without any difficulty, right?

Either way, I still hadn’t come up with an answer, which made it all the more frustrating to hear the topic from straight from Rose’s mouth. “Where did you hear that?” I asked her.

“I have my sources,” she replied enigmatically. “You’ve decided to, right? I mean, it sounds like a good deal, seeing as she’s going to give you fringe benefits. . . .”

My patience had just run out. I didn’t even know what was going on between myself and Tasha, and I didn’t want to have to explain it to anyone else. Least of the very girl who had tormented my mind into making this such a difficult matter to begin with. I set her with a stern gaze, hoping that she got the message that the topic was off limits. “What happens between her and me is none of your business.” I couldn’t have this conversation with Rose. Not yet. I wasn’t ready. Yet she pushed on in typical Rose fashion. She really was going to be the death of me, I was certain of that.

“Well, I’m sure you guys’ll be happy together. She’s just your type, too –– I know how much you like women who aren’t your own age. I mean, she’s what, six years older than you? Seven? And I’m four years younger than you.”

If I had wondered whether or not Rose was jealous, all doubt was instantly removed. Yes, there was a selfish part of me that took pleasure in knowing that I could get her attention like that, but I quickly pushed it aside. Rose was intoxicating, but we could never be. She’s still only seventeen, I’m her mentor, we’re both set to be assigned Lissa’s guardians. I wasn’t a total asshole and refused to mess up her life with my own selfishness. Reason upon reason stacked up against us, and I felt my control starting to slip as frustration began to seep in. That frustration only doubled when I realized it was exactly the point Rose had made in the gym. My control was always a battle for me.

"Yes,” I finally answered. “You are. And every second this conversation goes on, you only prove how young you really are.”

Shit. Ok, that was a hell of a lot more harsh than I wanted it to be. The problem was, I was feeling cornered. What I wanted was right in front of me but I couldn’t have her. I was mad at the situation, not her. Unfortunately, the more she pushed, the more she became the target of that anger.

My heart raced as I realized what I had done. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe I could still take it back and––

“Little dhampir,” a new voice interrupted. When I looked up and saw Adrian Ivashkov approach, I felt my moody emotions return. Though I wondered if I was only annoyed because he’d interrupted me, I quickly realized that wasn’t the case at all. It was lascivious look in his eyes as they swept over Rose’s body. It was gross, and I wanted nothing more than to smack the smug grin from his face. I did my best to control my expression, but judging by Adrian’s greeting as he continued to talk to Rose, I had a feeling my disgust was pretty obvious.

Was I being a hypocrite, I wondered. I was pissed off that Rose had acted all jealous over Tasha, yet here I was, wanting to explode because she was talking to Adrian of all people. No, that wasn’t it, I quickly realized. Mason was good. I would have been happier if it was him that she was walking away with. Rose deserved someone who could treat her with respect and compassion. I wished it was me, but such wasn’t in the cards. As it were, I silently seethed as I watched her leave with the slimeball, confident that she had no idea who Adrian really was.

With no where else to go, I went in search of Tasha to see if she was free yet. Though part of me suspected there was a more petty reason for suddenly wanting her company . . .

[moonshoesnikki]

Witchboy!Mingi

hi friends! the witchboy!au i started for bts is back as ateez!! also sorry for the friends (if any) that wanted me to finish the bts version but idk if it’s happening lol

other members: yunho, san

so we all know that every witch has their grimoire,,,,,the book where they store all of their runes, spells, potions, etc

but mingi literally has so many that he’s lost track at this point

honestly san makes fun of him constantly bc he’s always got his nose shoved in a book instead of actually PRACTICING magic

mingi doesn’t mind tho

honestly everyone in town knows him as that pretty boy who’s always walking around town with a backpack that looks like it HAS to weigh him down

it’s constantly bursting at the seams so it’s got to be heavier than he is

tbh it probs is but we all know he’s put a spell on it to make it lighter than a feather

he thrives in the places he can blend in and hide away

he even has a little secret spot he likes to sit at in the park while he studies

there’s a little tree in the back part of the wooded area that has a huge knoll in the arms

first he looks around to make sure nobody’s watching

bc like this is a ~S E C R E T~ as hongjoong constantly nags reminds him

so he looks around,,,,just to be sure

and then launches himself into the air

just long enough for him to plop down in the nook of the heaviest branch

then the studying begins

he literally spends hours sitting in that damned tree, reading book after book after book

and it’s perfect bc since it’s so hidden away, he knows he can practice his magic freely

one day, this gorgeous man walks through the door at the library you work at and your jaw hits the floor

like seriously how can one man be so beautiful

and he comes right up to the front desk and ur hands start to sweat 

jfc he really really is coming up here omg

hi, my name is mingi. can you help me find a book i’m looking for?

you know you were supposed to be listening to what he just asked u but like

u forgot already

sorry, i don’t think i heard you,,,what were you looking for??

and mingi’s not an idiot

he know’s hes ~pretty~

so he just chuckles and repeats the question

but the book he was looking for kind of threw you off guard bc

???? really????? 

the pretty boy wants to read a book on medicinal herbs??????

but u shrug it off bc you’ve had weirder requests anyway

so you take him into the basement of the library where you keep all of the medicinal books

he finds a table and when you hand him the book your fingers meet

why are his hands so soft and warm omg don’t blush u can-

and he smiles and nods, puts his headphones in and starts to read

tbh it takes you a second of standing there like a moron for a minute before you walk away

and you didn’t notice but every time you spoke, he had to calm himself too bc

why are they the cutest person i’ve ever seen in my life omg i gotta go tell the guys

but he kept coming back every day

more books in tow

and he started to become your favorite regular

everytime he came into the library he would stop and ask for your help

it even got the point where he knew your name 

which made your heart do backflips bc

jfc he knows my name

but honestly he did the same thing 

he would run home after a study session at the library and burst into the house and be like

GUYS TODAY THEY -

yes yes we know they talked to you and they’re beautiful and perfect and-

so one day you’re walking down the street on your way to your shift 

and who’s in front of you,,,,,but mingi with an armful of huge books

oh shit oh my god

and he thinks the same thing bc

WHAT I’M NOT PREPARED FOR THIS

and he drops all of the books in his hand

oh here, let me help you

and he freaks out bc they’re literally all grimoires

specifically the ones about love spells and potions hehe

NO NO REALLY THAT’S FINE I GO-

and his heart stops as you pick up the grimoire and start flipping through it

you look up at him confused bc,,,,,,,the pages are blank????

mingi, there’s nothing in this book???

and he breathes a sigh of relief but also hoW IS HE SUPPOSED TO EXPLAIN THAT SHE CAN’T READ THEM BC OF A GLAMOUR CHARM

uh, well, uh- you see, that’s my journal and i-uh haven’t started writing in it yet

and you immediately slam the book shut and get bright red 

bc omg you would never wanna invade his personal space so you basically throw it back in his general direction

omg i’m so so sorry i would never try and read someone’s journal omg

and he just laughs and runs his hand through his hair bc thank god she didn’t see the love spell 

that he definitely went home that evening and performed ehehe

[juliandev0rak]

Familiar 🐸

Eight: Familiar – what was their first meeting like? What exactly does their familiar do for/with their magic? 

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes​

Aster, she / they 

The outskirts of the city, Vesuvia

7 years before the events of The Arcana, Aster and Asra are 17

Words: 2029

Warnings: none

mood for this fic:

“Hey, Asra!” Aster yells.

“Aster? What are you doing up in a tree?” Asra calls up to her.

“What are you doing in the forest?” Aster replies.

“I asked you first!” He calls back, grinning up at her.

“Did you follow me?” Aster smiles back, watching as a leaf flutters down from the tree to land on his head.

“We’re friends now, right? I just wanted to make sure you were safe out here.” Asra says, “The forest isn’t always safe!” 

“I know! That’s why I’m in a tree.” Aster explains matter of factly.

“Uh, what?” He looks around warily, half expecting something to pop out from behind a bush.

“I heard a noise so I decided to climb this tree.” She continues,”But I think it was a false alarm.” 

“Do you want to come down from the tree then?” Asra asks, unable to stop his smile from growing. He’d been headed back to the hut in the forest when he spotted her. He’s never invited Aster to visit before, he has a feeling his friend who lives there wouldn’t take Aster’s outgoing personality as well as he does. 

Ever since he and Aster had met a few years prior they seem to run into each other wherever they go. He’s found her in some interesting situations, and he’s helped her out of plenty of interesting situations gone wrong. Just last month he’d helped her steal a gondola in the middle of the night. He never found out why she wanted the gondola, but the two of them had rowed out to the harbor and watched the stars for a while before he’d convinced them to return the boat before anyone noticed it was missing. 

They always have fun, but more often than not Aster’s escapades leave them running from palace guards and hiding in back alleys. He would say that trouble follows her if she wasn’t the one causing the trouble. Still, he can’t say he’s ever found her in a tree before.

“No, I kind of like it up here. I feel like a bird.” Aster smiles, moving her arms up and down to emulate flapping wings. She climbs up to a higher branch and Asra watches carefully to make sure she doesn’t slip. “AH!” 

“Aster! What is it?” Asra calls, already preparing to catch her or climb up if need be.

“I found a frog!” She shouts gleefully. 

“A frog?” He asks, breathing a sigh of relief.

“AHH!” She screams again.

“What now!” He shakes his head. Faust pops out of his bag to see what’s happening and gives his wrist a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’s so cute!” Aster yells, holding a small frog up to show him. 

“How did you find a frog all the way up there?” He asks now that he’s certain she’s safe. Aster doesn’t respond, she’s staring at the frog in her hand with rapt attention. 

“Asra?” She turns to look at him with wide eyes, “Can frogs talk?” 

“Uh, not usually?” Now he’s intrigued. “Come down here, let me see the frog.”

She clambers down the tree one handed, still holding the frog in her other hand and managing not to fall. She lands right next to him and holds her hand out for him to look.

“She talked to me.” Aster says, “She said she likes my dress!” 

“Looks like a normal frog to me.” Asra says, leaning closer to inspect the frog. The frog croaks in response to him and he raises an eyebrow. “Did you understand that?”

“She thinks you have pretty eyes.” Aster smiles in wonder at the frog in her hand. Asra bursts into laughter and reaches a finger out to gently stroke the frog’s back. “She was just sitting on the branch staring at me!” 

“Well she must be a very special frog then.” Asra reasons, “Maybe she felt your magic.” 

“Like Faust?” Aster asks, watching as Faust slithers her way over Asra’s arm to take a look at the frog. 

“Maybe so.” He grins, listening to something Faust is saying. Aster sometimes feels like she can hear Faust, but it’s more of a vague impression of emotions rather than the clear words she’d heard from the frog. “You’d better bring her to your aunt, maybe she can help.” 

“That’s a good idea. Froggie, do you want to come back to my house?” Aster asks, bringing the frog up to eye level.

The frog must have agreed because Aster squeals in delight and starts to walk away, thinking only of her new friend. A few steps away she remembers Asra and turns around to smile at him over her shoulder.

“Asra, you have a leaf in your hair.” She laughs. His hands go to his hair and he pulls the leaf free, staring at it with an unreadable expression. “Come by the shop later?”

“I’ll be there.” He smiles, waving the leaf at her in goodbye. Satisfied, Aster turns back around and heads for home, already trying to come up with a name for the frog. Asra watches as she leaves, practically bouncing in excitement as she walks, her gauzy dress caked in dirt from climbing the tree. 

He wishes he could stop chasing after her, but at this point he thinks he might be in too deep. She says jump, he says how high, she asks him to steal a gondola and he says “what color?” It’s quickly becoming a problem, how much he’s willing to do for her. 

Back at the shop Aster introduces her aunt to the frog, and her aunt agrees that maybe at last she’s found her familiar. Or at least a very friendly frog. Her aunt suggests practicing some spells with the frog nearby to see if it changes her magic in any way. Aster decides to practice her favorite charm, turning things pink. She’s used it frequently, on everything from trees to buildings to a sleeping palace guard’s helmet.

Asra knocks on the shop door an hour later like he usually does and Aster’s aunt lets him in. Sometimes he comes for dinner, or sometimes just for tea, but Aster is the real reason he shows up.  He finds her sitting in the backroom with her back to the door frantically leafing through a book of spells. It takes him a minute to notice that her hair is a shade of bright pink.

“I like your hair.” He jokes, causing her to spin around to face him in surprise. 

“It was an accident.” She laughs, holding up the frog. “I was trying to practice turning a pillow pink but I turned my hair pink instead. It must be the frog, my magic isn’t usually this strong.” 

“I think it suits you.” Asra grins, sitting down next to her. “She must be your familiar then!” 

“Well I’m glad it suits me because neither my aunt nor I can figure out how to turn my hair back to normal.” She frowns, pulling at a pink curl.

“I like it.” Asra says again. She smiles at him and puts the frog down. “Have you given her a name?” 

“I tried to ask her but she says she doesn’t have one, she forgets what it was.” Aster replies, still flipping through her spell book. 

“Well that’s mysterious..” Asra peers over her shoulder at the book, it’s about simple charms but she’s right- none of the pages seem to contain anything about breaking curses. “I wonder how old this frog of yours is, and where she came from.” 

“She said she’s from a swamp somewhere far away from here.” Aster says, closing the book with a sigh. “I give up, I think I’ll just leave my hair pink.” 

“It’ll make it harder to sneak around the city.” Asra teases. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to wear a disguise then.” She laughs, “And besides, your fluffy white hair isn’t very incognito.” 

“Hey don’t drag me into this, I’m not the one wanted by the palace guards.” Asra grins, poking a finger into her hair.

“Fine if you don’t want to join me anymore, I’ll bring Ophelia with me.” Aster says petulantly, her lips pulling into a pout. 

“Ophelia?” Asra asks.

“I just decided that’s her name,” Aster looks at the frog, “It’s the perfect frog name!” 

“I like it.” Asra says, leaning over towards her, “Hi, Ophelia, I'm Asra.” Ophelia croaks in response and both of them laugh.

“She says ‘nice to meet you purple eyes’.” Aster translates. Ophelia croaks again and Aster’s face pulls into a frown, “She says my hair is too bright. Well you know what Ophelia? Maybe if you weren’t such a powerful, magical frog this wouldn’t have happened!” 

Asra watches on as Aster argues with her frog. It’s not a particularly heated fight as far as he can tell, but it’s definitely entertaining. 

“I take it back, Asra gets to be my partner in crime again.” She pouts and Ophelia croaks back indignantly. 

“I’m not so sure I want to do crimes,” Asra starts.

“Well too bad, I decided I like you so you’re an accomplice.” Aster interrupts with her trademark grin, “But Ophelia can come along, she’s my friend now too.” 

Faust pops her head out of Asra’s bag and slithers her way over to Aster and Ophelia. Aster gives her a little boop on the head as she passes and Faust sticks her tongue out in greeting. 

“Faust wants to meet Ophelia.” Asra explains. “No squeezing, Faust.” Faust hisses politely in response and coils her way around the spot on the carpet where Ophelia sits. The two familiars regard each other in silence for a minute as Aster and Asra grin at each other. 

“I think they like each other.” Aster says, reaching out her arm for Faust to wind her way around. Faust gives her arm a gentle squeeze. 

“I think they’ll be friends.” Asra agrees. “Hey do you think pink hair would look good on me?” 

“No.” Aster says firmly.

“What? Why not!” Asra pouts, grabbing a strand of her hair to play with.

“Pink is my color, we can’t both have pink hair.” She responds with a grin.

“Oh come on! You’re just worried I’ll look better.” He teases, watching as her eyes widen slightly in anger.

“You would not!” She sputters in annoyance. She’s easy to rile up but he knows she isn’t really mad at him.

“Dye my hair pink then and we’ll see.” Asra says, challenging her.

“I am not dyeing your hair pink Asra, Need I remind you this was the result of a curse? My hair is literally cursed now.” Aster wonders what the other side effects of the curse are. If she wakes up with pink skin tomorrow, that might be too much even for her.

“I want cursed hair!” Asra argues.

“Ok well yeah.. it is pretty cool.” She grins, pulling at her hair to look at it better.

“I want pink hair..” Asra mutters under his breath. 

“Shut up or I’ll turn your hair green, and that won’t go with your aesthetic at all.” Aster warns, waggling her finger at him.

“Ugh fine, I’ll just ask Ophelia to do it then.” Asra says, reaching for the frog. 

“Hey! Get your own familiar, she’s my magic frog.” Aster says protectively, snapping up the frog into her hands before Asra can. 

“Faust, should I dye my hair pink?” Asra asks, holding the snake up to eye level. 

“No.” 

This time even Aster can hear the snake’s answer and she and Asra break out in laughter. It’s the kind of laughter that makes their stomachs hurt, gasping for air.

The memory of that night is one that Asra revisits often as the years go by. After he loses Aster the pain is nearly unbearable, but he takes care of Ophelia while he works to bring Aster back, and he knows that if he could understand the frog she would say how much she misses Aster too. 

When he finally manages to bring Aster back he can’t help but wonder if her hair will still be pink in this new body, and he’s overjoyed to find that it is. 

[halothenthehorns]

THE FIRST TASK

Lily couldn't help it, her anger at Ron really was starting to bleed out by now to just be replaced with sorrow for both him and Harry. Both boys needed to talk to each other: she was sure they would work this out if they did, but while both blamed the other it didn't seem to be happening soon. What would it take to get it through Ron's head this wasn't Harry's fault? Ron was clearly growing tired of the argument though, so if Harry finally snapped and tracked him down, could they hopefully settle their differences soon?

She was the only one hoping along those lines. James was still trying his hardest not to think about it at all, while Remus and Sirius still wanted to smack the redhead a good one. Remus began his chapter with anger still bleeding into his tones.

Harry awoke Sunday so distracted, that he started trying to get dressed by putting his foot into his hat.

Sirius tried for a laugh at the mental image even if he didn't really feel it.

When he'd finally got all his clothes on the right parts of his body,

"Sure you didn't want to try pulling a sweater over your drawers next?" James muttered.

    he went in search of Hermione, waited impatiently for her to finish her breakfast, and then dragged her back out to the lake so the two could talk some more. He told her everything Sirius had said, and though she was alarmed about the news of Karkaroff, she deemed the dragons more important for now.

"Wish you had realized that," Remus sighed at Sirius. "I'm still blasted you found anything more important to discuss than that, even a Death Eater."

Sirius just shrugged, really not having a defense for himself. He certainly agreed Harry should be on his guard around anyone from Durmstrang now, but those dragons really were a bit more pressing at the time.

She agreed they needed to focus on keeping him alive until after Tuesday,

"Oh thank you, Hermione, that was very encouraging," Lily huffed.

Remus fidgeted with the page for a moment, hoping desperately something else would happen to Harry in between now and when that First Task would come up so that he wouldn't have to read it, but then he realized it would in fact be Lily's turn to read about her son against a dragon, so he instead changed his wish to just getting this over with.

then they could worry about Karkaroff. They walked for a long time around the water, but when no ideas came to them of how to get past a dragon, they set off for the library.

"That could work at least," James nodded along. "You should find a passage talking about a dragon's weak spot, and come to the conclusion on your own of what to do."

"I still don't see how that would help," Harry sighed. "So I get it in the eye, then what? Now I've got an angry dragon because I managed to hit it, on top of whatever else I'm supposed to be doing."

"Still better than not knowing anything," Remus offered with a forced smile. Harry didn't argue the point.

At first all they could find were spells to help maintain a dragon's health for those like Hagrid who cared about that thing.

"Not top priority right now," Lily agreed.

The next set of books were about how powerful one would have to be to get any sort of magic past a dragon's thick hide, but Harry countered that Sirius had told about a simple spell doing the trick.

"I'm worried that they're taking that too literally," Sirius frowned. "They need to stick with the dragon books to see what I meant."

"There's nothing easy when it comes to dragons, really," Lily agreed.

Harry suggested they go through some simple spell books instead, tossing aside one named Men Who Love Dragons Too Much.

"Also known as Hagrid and Charlie, the nutters around them right now," James muttered.

They instead starting flipping through a new set with Hermione whispering at Harry's elbow the whole time about various things, such as how it would be ridiculous to try and Transfigure it, not even McGonagall was that powerful, unless he tried to do the spell on himself.

"Now there's an interesting idea," James said with honest amusement.

"Harry's not at that skill level yet," Lily corrected.

Those were really advanced though, and the only reason Hermione knew of a few was because of some pre O. W. L. papers she was doing.

"Of course the bloody fourth year has been," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"She's got to stay on top somehow," Remus shrugged.

Harry snapped at her to please stop, he was trying to concentrate.

'And she was just trying to help,' Lily wanted to sigh, but didn't correct him as she could only guess at how stressed her son was right now.

All her silence brought, though, was a loud buzzing in Harry's ears that left just as little room for concentration as he continued flipping through spells like scalping and pepper breath. That last one would be terrible, and would probably just increase a dragon's firepower.

"Can't deny it would be interesting to see, though," Remus muttered to himself, knowing he was the only one to think that.

You could give it a horned tongue, though that would really just be an extra weapon.

"Well, this clearly isn't helping," Lily groaned.

"Better than sitting around the common room freaking himself out," James sighed.

Hermione spoke up again in exasperation about Viktor Krum showing up again, muttering why he couldn't just study on his ship.

Harry felt a funny little feeling tingling in his gut, like he wanted to laugh at a vexed Hermione around Krum, but the feeling was so buried with the gut wrenching fear of facing a dragon soon he never even really registered it.

Hermione suggested they just take the books and leave; his fanclub would be around soon. Sure enough, not moments after they were leaving, they could see several students trying to tiptoe inside, one wearing a Bulgaria scarf.

Harry didn't sleep that night, and when Monday awoke him, for the first time Harry truly considered running away from Hogwarts.

"Ooh, my poor baby," Lily finally couldn't stop herself, she'd been trying to restrain how sorry she felt for Harry for ages so as not to smother him or embarrass him or anything, but she just couldn't hold it back anymore with how genuinely bad this was for him.

Harry gave his mother a warm, reassuring smile which seemed to at least somewhat put her at ease, but it didn't really erase a pang in his head telling Harry that for some reason he should remember something about leaving Hogwarts? He never really ran away did he?

One look around the Great Hall, and Harry knew he couldn't go through with it. This was the first place he'd ever really been happy. He supposed he must have been when he'd lived with his parents, but he couldn't remember that.

"Least I have them now," Harry quickly inserted before he had to watch depression mix in with the already wound up nerves of his family. They gave him a grateful smile for the effort, even if it was still hard to shake that sentence off.

The thought that staying here and facing a dragon was still a better option than going back to Privet Drive did give him some comfort.

"Oh thank you," Lily still couldn't help but ground out. "It just warms my heart to know a dragon is still better than that!"

Harry wasn't sure if that was sarcasm or pure anger at the reminder, most likely both.

As Harry began to leave breakfast, he noticed Cedric departing as well. Harry realized that Cedric was the only champion who didn't know, if he was right in guessing Maxime and Karkaroff would tell their own.

"You most definitely are," Sirius scoffed.

Remus, though, was watching Harry with a calculating look, wondering why Harry was thinking about this again when he noticed Cedric walking off... Was he really going to?

Harry told Hermione he'd met her in their Herbology class as he watched Cedric leaving.

"Oh you're not," James asked with a genuine smile.

"I think he is," Lily corrected with a fond look at her boy.

"Only seems fair," Sirius smirked in agreement.

Hermione tried to protest he was going to be late, but Harry promised he'd catch up to her.

"Considering Sprout's unusual ire with you, you're risking a lot for this," Remus reminded.

"He's helping out a Hufflepuff though," Sirius waved off, "so I'm sure she'll forgive him.

When Harry caught up he found Cedric surrounded by a group of Hufflepuffs who had been one of the most common groups to be quoting Skeeter's article at Harry.

"Bloody, bleeding, a-holes picking on a younger kid," James huffed. Quidditch was one thing, if this had just been going on right before a tournament or something, he knew he'd laugh it off, but this wasn't a Bludger problem, this was a life and death tournament!

Harry trailed at a distance until he noticed they were headed for a Charms class, which gave Harry an idea. He pulled out his wand, aimed carefully, and used the Diffindo spell on Cedric's bag.

"Well, that was rude," Lily got out around her own giggling; she couldn't deny it was effective.

"Ah, he can just repair it later," Remus waved her off. "You can't deny him points for thinking up that."

"Helps that he knows how much of a distraction it is," James agreed with a wild smile as he remembered back to Harry's lovely singing valentine because of this moment.

Everything fell out of the bag, including a bottle of ink that smashed and sprayed all the books with the black liquid. Cedric quickly waved his friends on when they stopped to help, Cedric telling them to let Flitwick know why he'd be late.

"And the usual response," Sirius agreed, as this was a fairly common occurrence and no one really wanted to help pick up slimy, inky anything. It stained your hands for a time no matter what.

Harry only waited long enough until they went out of sight before running forward, and telling Cedric that the first task was dragons.

"Subtle as a brick to the face," James got out around a fantastic snort.

"I don't know if there is a way to ease into that," Remus snickered, "so Harry's way was probably best."

Harry watched the gray of Cedric's eyes take on some of the panic building inside Harry.

"Least he doesn't think you're pulling his leg," Sirius shrugged, as that would probably cross his own mind. From an outsider, with all the flack Harry was getting, he wouldn't have put it past Cedric to think Harry was doing this as some sort of set up.

Cedric tried to ask how Harry knew, but Harry brushed that off, not wanting to get Hagrid into trouble.

"Honestly though, what is to stop them wandering the grounds and finding out?" James rolled his eyes. The three of them couldn't have been the only students in their youth to be out wandering the grounds so much, and the dragon pens weren't exactly in the heart of the forest.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they set up security not long after Harry left," Lily pointed out. "Warn away any students trying to get close, official Tournament business and all that. If Hagrid hadn't snuck Harry in there right when he had, it probably would have been a lot harder to be done."

"Fair enough," James agreed.

Harry quickly explained that Fleur and Krum knew as well, so now all was fair. Cedric straightened up with all of his stuff, now eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"That's what I was looking for," Sirius nodded. "He's got to be a bit suspicious of you."

"Thanks," Harry drawled. Everyone here knew Harry was doing it out of a kindness, but even he'd admit he would have been suspicious of someone doing this for him as well.

Cedric still asked why he was being told, and Harry gaped at him in shock. He wouldn't have let his worst enemy go into this blind, well perhaps he would of Snape or Malfoy.

"Agreed," James yelped instantly, finally something fun to think about! "There's a ton of room for potential mayhem-"

"James," Lily cut him off fondly, "would you please plan your plots later?"

James couldn't help a smile when he realized his wife had said later instead of knock it off, at least it meant she wasn't really opposed to the idea.

Harry repeated it was fair this way, now everyone was on the same ground.

Before Cedric could respond, they both heard the distinctive clunk noise of Moody approaching, and the man rounded the corner moments later and called Harry to follow him.

"Why?" James yelped in surprise.

"Think Moody heard him and is going to tell off Harry?" Lily pouted. "It's not like he can do anything though, the damage has been done."

Cedric was told to go off to his class, so Harry followed Moody with unease. Was Moody going to ask how Harry knew about the dragons?

"This could turn bad," Sirius agreed.

Would Moody tell Dumbledore and get Hagrid into trouble, or just turn Harry into a ferret to teach him a lesson?

"Is that your go-to fear of him now?" Remus asked between laughter. "I think he's got other animals up his sleeve."

Harry just shrugged, that bouncing ferret had really been a lasting memory.

Well, it would be easier to get past a dragon if he were a ferret.

"Can't argue with you there," Sirius agreed with a repressed shiver.

Harry went into Moody's office and took a seat, unnerved as always when Moody's magical eye focused in on him, but then Moody told Harry that he'd done a very decent thing.

"Well, he's not at the start of telling you off," Lily murmured hopefully, though if that wasn't what he was doing, why had he dragged Harry there?

Harry wasn't sure how to react to that, but at least he wasn't being told off yet. Instead Harry started to look around the office.

In Lockhart's day, the place was plastered with pictures of the man himself.

"Thank you for the remembered nightmare," Sirius snorted. He'd still never heard of anyone so vain.

"Thank you for the remembered payback," James corrected with a wicked grin. At least he'd got his comeuppance in the end.

Lupin had been more likely to have a Dark creature in a corner ready for his next class.

"Because Moony's the only nutjob who loves them so much he keeps them on hand," James snickered, which Remus gracefully ignored by flushing slightly and reading a bit louder.

Lily was just glad that Harry had never had the reason to visit Quirrell in his office; she didn't want to know what he would have found.

Now, it was full of odd objects, such as a cracked Sneakoscope,

"Why's it cracked though?" James asked in surprise, Moody was a well-known maniac for keeping his gear in top priority.

"Your guess is as good as ours," Sirius shrugged, though just as confused.

a golden aerial that was humming,

"That's a Secrecy Sensor," James smiled in surprise, "though I wonder why it would be going off now. No one in there should be hiding anything."

"How long is the range?" Sirius asked. "Could be picking up students up to no good, couldn't it?"

James nodded in fair point.

and a mirror on the back wall that wasn't reflecting the room, but shadowed figures Harry couldn't make out.

"Ooh, that's a Foe-Glass," Remus smiled. "Those are really rare; I wonder where he got it." He didn't wait for Harry to ask this time before adding on, "it shows the outline of your enemies, and when they come into focus it means you'd better start running. Great head start if you learn to use it properly."

Harry nodded in understanding of what Remus had said, but not why he was getting a prickling feeling. All of this made perfect sense, so why did he still have a growing suspicion about Moody any time he was mentioned?

Moody noticed Harry's staring and asked if he was interested in his Dark Detectors.

"I would if any of them were active," Remus scoffed. Moody was supposedly there this year to keep an eye on anything suspicious going on, yet he had all the instruments to help him do so off. What was the point of that?

Harry asked what they were, and Moody explained each of them, but added on he kept them off because the kids at this school made them activate too easily, though he added on gruffly it could be more than just kids.

"There's my cheerful thought," Lily huffed, that's all she'd been thinking about since this mess had started.

Harry then asked about the mirror, and Moody explained its use and how it shouldn't be a concern until you could see the whites of the eyes. Then Moody would have to go for his trunk. Harry spotted it in the corner, with its seven keyholes. Harry wanted to ask what was in there, but got distracted by Moody's question,

Harry rubbed furiously at his temple for a moment, feeling like he should go back and kick his fourteen-year-old self for not investigating that further, because it was going to bite him in the arse. Thankfully no one pressured him to talk about it though: they all knew the results they'd get.

of Harry finding out about the dragons.

Harry hesitated to say anything, still not wanting to get Hagrid into trouble. Moody just barked a laugh, though, saying he wasn't upset, cheating was as traditional as the Tournament itself.

"Won't find that in any books," Lily chuckled, "but I can't imagine him being wrong."

"I really don't even see what Harry did as cheating," Remus agreed. "Is there actually a rule saying you can't help your fellow players? Crouch just said you couldn't have outside help like from the teachers."

"If you ever bother to find out, let us know," James snorted.

Harry quickly corrected he hadn't been cheating, it had been an accident he'd found out.

Moody waved him off, saying it wasn't a big deal. Maxime and Karkaroff would be worse in helping their champion, as much as they wanted to beat Dumbledore. They wanted to prove he was human.

"Something I'm going to more than enjoy showing," Sirius hissed bitterly. Even when he did rip that rat's head from his body, he wasn't likely to forget the great leader of the Order who hadn't lifted a finger to help him when it happened.

Then Moody asked if Harry had any ideas of how he was going to get past his dragon. Harry told him no, and Moody said back he wasn't going to help him with that.

"I wouldn't expect him to," James raised a sharp brow in surprise.

"Though if he's not there to tell you off, what was the point of him doing this?" Lily asked.

Nobody actually had an idea. Why was Moody taking an interest in Harry like this? Was it possibly Dumbledore again, who'd asked his old friend to keep a special eye on the boy? They wouldn't put it past him.

He would, however, give Harry some advice, to play to his strengths.

Harry at once said he didn't have any.

Harry flushed in shock when he received four startled faces. He still felt that way, was going to repeat himself and try to just move on, but then Sirius snorted and shook his head as he declared, "the funniest part is, you actually mean that."

"Harry, everyone's got things they're good and bad at," Lily scolded maternally. "You've clearly excelled in some classes but lack in others, just like every other student."

"DADA," Remus quickly said when Harry looked like he was still going to disagree. "I can only name one third year I've ever known to make a Patronus. I'd call that a strength." He decided to leave off the mention of the Imperius curse. Though just as impressive, that one wasn't as good to think about.

"Plus you're a ruddy good Seeker," James quickly put in as clearly Harry wasn't going to agree on the academia side, "best I've ever seen."

By this point Harry was so red and desperate to change the subject, it didn't even click in his brain what his dad had really said as he told Remus, "alright, please keep going or I'll take that and do it myself."

They were all chuckling with good nature. This was certainly much more pleasant to be talking about than dragons, so none of them really wanted to go back to the book, but Remus decided to save Harry anyways, as he did know how it felt to have things you didn't believe thrown at you like that.

Moody snapped that Harry most certainly did have strengths, then told him to think. What was he best at?

Harry's first response was to say Quidditch, but it wouldn't do any good.

James' smirk widened all the more. He knew he'd hit Harry's best point, and when Harry gave him a warm smile to show that the praise his dad had given for agreeing meant the world to him.

Moody agreed he'd heard all about what a good flier Harry was, but Harry pointed out he wasn't allowed to bring his broom down, just his wand. Moody kept going with one more piece of advice: simple spells worked best to get him what he needed.

Harry blinked for a few moments as he tried to put it together.

"Oh!" Sirius did a double take in shock.

"Well that's, something," James got out around a crackling throat that was trying to laugh.

"You're going to somehow get your broom to you, to fly past the dragon," Remus said slowly, before nodding with bright eyes and saying, "well, major credit, it's certainly better than running!"

It didn't take Harry but a few moments at watching them before it all clicked together in his mind, and he started laughing in relief.

Lily was smiling with pure indulgent happiness at her boy. Of all the times she'd complained about his Quidditch status, at last it finally seemed to have done some good for him. She hadn't seen Harry relax so much since before this Tournament had been announced.

Then Harry realized what he'd have to do was get his Firebolt down to him, and for that he needed Hermione.

"Wait, where did Hermione come into this?" Sirius asked in surprise.

"Harry needs a spell to get his broom to him," James shrugged, "who would you ask?"

"Good point," Sirius acknowledged.

He caught up with her in Herbology, whispering desperately to her he needed to learn the Summoning Charm by tomorrow.

"Oh, but of course you pick the spell you've been having trouble with all year," Lily snorted.

"How else could I get it to me?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Well, you certainly picked the easiest way," Lily corrected herself. "The Summoning Charm is so flexible with its wording and doesn't have a range, that would be a recommendation, but with the fact that you haven't mastered it after trying for months at school, I would have suggested an alternative."

"Any others I can think of, though, are at an even harder level," James countered back for Harry, "and there's a difference between slacking off on your homework, and 'I need this bleeding spell for a really important reason.' I think Harry'll figure it out."

"Trust him on this one," Sirius smirked when Lily didn't really look convinced, "you'd be amazed what sudden motivation will help your wand to accomplish."

Lily suddenly realized the two big headed idiots were referring to themselves being able to pull off an animagus transformation at such young ages, and they did have a point. Besides, there was no point pestering Harry about it; he already did whatever it was that got him through, so she let it go.

They began practicing at once, finding an empty classroom so that Harry could try to get the objects to come towards him magically, but with minimal good. Most dropped like stones halfway there.

Hermione kept telling Harry he had to concentrate harder,

"Is that all the advice she's giving?" Remus rolled his eyes. "Telling him the same thing over and over won't ever cause an improvement."

"Thank you, professor," Sirius snorted.

James couldn't help a little frown though, as he really did wish that Moony had still been around to help Harry with this. It would have made him feel better as he knew that Remus could get Harry through some pretty difficult spells already.

Harry snapped at her that he was trying, but for some reason a dragon kept popping into his head!

"Yeah, that's cause for distraction," Sirius shivered, wishing he could go back to picking on his friend now, as that was already popping up in his head every other sentence this chapter.

Harry wanted to skip Divination to keep practicing, but Hermione refused to miss her Arithmancy class, and Harry felt there was no point in trying without her around.

"Why?" Lily asked in surprise. "If all the advice she's giving you is to tell you to concentrate, I'd think not having her around for a space would do you some good."

"I didn't really like being alone," Harry muttered. "I tended to freak myself out more when she wasn't at my elbow muttering things."

So he went up to the tower and was forced to listen for a time about how the planet's current alignments meant that people born in July were going to be suffering sudden deaths.

"It's not very sudden if he's been expecting it for months," Remus snapped in a real temper; he was sick of that woman's stupid predictions.

"Can someone shove a planetarium up her nose already?" Sirius grumbled. "Might distract her long enough Harry can drop this class."

Harry shouted back at her that at least it was sudden, he didn't have to suffer!

Which gave them all a nice, surprised burst of laughter that they had been sorely missing for ages now. Anybody smarting off to Trelawney was always a good source of mood, even if the topic was usually depressing.

Ron looked for a moment as though he was going to laugh,

"Genuinely impressed he restrained himself," Sirius said, his good mood still lingering enough he didn't sound as sore as usual.

he caught Harry's eye for the first time in days at least, but Harry was still too resentful to care.

Lily and James exchanged exasperated stares, both now on the same page that they'd lock those two boys in a room themselves if it would get them to talk to each other and get this over with. It had worked for Remus and Sirius, and that fight had been worse than this one.

Harry spent the class trying to get things to zoom to him under the table, but most failed except for a fly. Harry didn't think this had anything to do with him, though: perhaps the fly was just stupid.

Causing another smattering of giggling to erupt in the room, all of them now quite glad indeed Harry had come to this class. It was great at relieving most of the tension at least.

After dinner Harry and Hermione snuck back down to an empty classroom under the Invisibility Cloak to practice some more, but Harry still didn't get very far when Peeves showed up and thought that Harry was wanting things thrown at him and started chucking chairs around.

Only Sirius and James got a good laugh out of that. They hadn't heard about the Poltergeist in a while, and he was always around when you needed him the least, and the most. This time was sort of both for them, as they really didn't want to let go of their laughing mood, because the moment they did, they'd remember what Harry was fixing to do.

At nearly two in the morning, Harry was finally surrounded by the books, quills, and whatever else he'd managed to summon to him.

"And me Mum always told me nothing good happens after midnight," James beamed.

Lily didn't even bother with the worry that Harry should have been in bed; she knew as well as anyone her boy wouldn't be getting any sleep.

Hermione looked as exhausted as he felt, but praised him he seemed to have finally gotten the spell right.

Harry agreed that he'd certainly seemed to find a good motivator, threatening him with a dragon.

"Is that all it takes?" Sirius demanded as he theatrically popped himself in the forehead, "I'll keep that in mind."

"You'd Crucio someone before you let that threat hang over you," Remus mock-scolded him.

"Well, I'm not as good a person as Harry," Sirius shrugged without remorse.

He successfully summoned a dictionary to him, and Hermione promised that Harry had gotten the spell down at last. Harry still wasn't so sure, as tomorrow he'd be much farther away with his Firebolt up in the castle.

"I'm sure everything'll be fine," Lily said instantly, her faith in her son's charms not wavering for a second. Harry had yet to actually get a spell wrong once he'd mastered it.

"Probably would have sneaked onto the grounds myself to practice," James offered with a shrug.

"Didn't know how getting caught out of bed would affect me," Harry returned, "and I'd yet to have many good experiences of it, so that night didn't seem to be one to try."

Hermione promised that as long as he was concentrating, the spell would work the same. Then she instructed him to try and get some sleep.

The school seemed as wound as Harry the next morning. Whether passersby were wishing him good luck, or promising they'd save him some tissues, Harry felt too detached to notice and instead was thinking of the moment where he'd be led down to the dragons' pen. He was so wound up he'd probably try to curse everything in sight on the way.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Remus chuckled. "They'd think you'd gone mad, there's no way they'd force you to stay in the Tournament then."

Harry snapped his fingers with a jesting regretful face that hadn't crossed his mind.

McGonagall came for him at lunch, and began leading him outside. She asked how he was doing, and he responded fine, but McGonagall still seemed anxious as she put her hand on his shoulder.

Lily couldn't help but coo. She'd always loved McGonagall. Strict as she was, she never missed a moment to show that she cared about her students, and this was one time Harry most definitely needed it.

She instructed him not to panic; they had wizards on standby if anything got out of hand.

"Define, out of hand," Remus groaned without really expecting an answer.

"Yeah, cause that won't cause him to panic," Sirius muttered, unable to stop an almost nonstop shivering. Only the warmth of the baby in his arms was really registering in him now.

All he had to do was try his best, and no one would think the worst of him.

"Best advice to be given," James sighed as he pushed his hand through his hair. He didn't care if Harry was sitting next to him now, fully grown and clearly having survived this, the anxiety galloping up his throat wasn't leaving him at the thought of this.

She again asked how Harry was doing.

"He's just peachy," Remus muttered mutinously.

Harry entered to find the other champions all looking as wound as he did, Cedric pacing with nerves. When he caught sight of Harry he tried to smile, and Harry had to work for a moment for his muscles to respond, as if they'd forgotten how to do so.

"Now you're just depressing me," Lily sighed, her fingers catching strands of her hair and twirling them around her fingers tightly as any form of distraction.

Bagman came bouncing in then, calling out a merry greeting to Harry.

"How is he always in such a good mood?" Sirius snarled with a touch more venom than was really called for. "I get so sick of hearing him say what a good thing this is for Harry!"

"If it makes you feel any better, imagine him wetting himself if he was the one to go in front of those dragons," Remus offered.

It didn't, but Sirius thanked him for trying.

Bagman began telling them all that they would get this started soon, then drew a silk sack. He told that what they'd have to be getting past was inside, and all they had to do was grab a golden egg.

Remus groaned and face planted the pages. He'd detested the idea of getting past a nesting dragon, but, oh, no. Now Harry was expected to grab an egg from her clutch, under her bleeding talons, because that was so much better!

It only vaguely registered when someone smacked him upside the head, but still he glanced up to see Lily with too-bright eyes as she snapped at him, "you nearly gave me heart failure! Can't you pretend for at least a second you didn't just picture Harry getting charbroiled doing this?"

Remus worked furiously for a second, but he really couldn't get rid of the expression until he glanced at Harry who was watching him with concern.

It was not comforting in the slightest that the guy they would have relied on to get them past a dragon was freaking out as much as Sirius, who was only taking long steady breaths as a simple reminder just to keep his chest moving. Both parents were a twitching mess thinking about this, so Remus bolstered himself as he realized he was the only one. "So long as it's only pretend," he almost managed a toothy grin before turning back to the book with determination not to faint doing this.

Harry looked around and saw the set faces of the other champions, though none of them spoke. Harry wondered if they were feeling as sick as he was, though at least they'd volunteered for this.

"Thanks for the reminder, made this all ten times worse," James sneered.

Bagman offered the sack to Fleur first, and she reached inside and pulled out a miniature Welsh Green with a two around its neck. Not a flicker of surprise passed her face, which meant Harry's guess was right, Maxime had told. Krum's expression was the same as he pulled out a Chinese Fireball with a three.

Remus did not miss the fact that Harry was now down to a fifty, fifty shot of getting the worst of the dragons. His mind tried to scatter to a less scary topic, like wondering which breed had been added as the afterthought upon Harry's entrance. Had it been the Horntail, the worst of the lot as an extra challenge, or perhaps the Welsh Green who was, at least compared to the others, the best choice? He didn't have an answer, and knew he most likely wasn't going to get one, but at least the small distraction had done its job and he was able to keep going in a steady voice.

Cedric pulled out the Swedish Short-Snout with a one.

"Of course, absolutely, that makes perfect sense! Harry would get the bleeding Hungarian Horntail, the most dangerous of them all! How could he not! Because this one f'ing time he couldn't have just-" James reached around Harry and almost gently pulled on Sirius' ear to get him to stop, but the tug did indeed get his attention and Sirius forced his tirade to cut off.

Knowing what was coming, Harry stuck his hand inside and pulled out the last dragon and number. It stretched its miniature wings and bared little fangs at him from his hand.

"What are those, anyways?" Harry asked dully, not really curious for an answer as it just involved more dragon talk, but the question had come out nonetheless.

Remus had to think for a moment, collecting his thoughts to something other than a fifty-foot monster in the same vicinity as Harry, before answering. "Normally? The models are used for little tasks. I know a shop in Diagon Alley uses one to roast their chestnuts. They're not exactly real, you don't have to feed them or anything; the magic just makes them lifelike for a few months until you reactivate them."

"Well, that's a relief," Lily muttered, "because for a moment I was honestly afraid those were baby dragons."

"Nah," Remus was actually relaxing now as he kept going, "they imitate real life dragons, and, yes, they can breathe fire, so they're not a toy, but they're not particularly dangerous either. Once the magic in them wears off, they vanish, and you have to buy a new one. It's more of a novelty, to have dragon-roasted chestnuts when you could simply cook them like normal, or other gimmicks that they're really rarely used."

"Well, do me a favor, and keep them away from me as well," Sirius grumbled, suddenly thankful that Remus clearly knew about these things, and had never tried to give one to Sirius as a gag gift. As Sirius most likely would have dropped it down Remus' pants in retaliation, it was wise of him.

Bagman clapped his hands together as everything was set, the numbers on them were the order in which they'd be heading out.

"Did Harry have to go last, though?" Lily couldn't help but scowl. "I wish he'd just gone first to get it over with."

Bagman would be commentating, so when Diggory heard the whistle all he had to do was walk out and things would begin. Then he asked Harry for a private word.

"Why's that?" Sirius asked in surprise, not against anything that would keep Harry away from that dragon any longer than he had to be, but that was still pretty odd.

"No clue," Harry muttered, just as curious, but somehow agitated about it as well.

Harry followed him with curiosity. Bagman stopped not too far away, and turned to Harry with a fatherly expression in place.

James didn't even try to smother his agitation at that comparison. Sirius was one thing, he'd take that jealousy happily any day as James himself would pick Sirius to be any sort of fatherly figure to Harry since he was out of the picture. It wasn't fun to listen to, but tolerable. This f'ing stranger, though, who had been bothering Harry since he met him, was really starting to dig under his skin.

He asked how Harry was feeling, if Bagman could help him with anything?

"Well, that's, sweet," Lily said uncertainly. She at least appreciated Bagman's attempts to see that Harry was feeling okay, but McGonagall had done the same thing without making it so obvious to the other champions. Why would he bother anyways?

Did he have a plan? Harry realized Bagman was trying to offer some advice.

"Jeez, at least Moody was being subtle about it," Remus frowned, "and he did it in return for Harry helping Cedric. What's Bagman playing at doing this?"

"Is it so bad to see him doing something nice?" Lily asked without any real force; she found it odd as well.

"I'd believe it a little more if he'd quit treating Harry like a star every time he walked into a room," James sniffed. "I think he's just buttering up to him."

Sirius did not add his opinion; he still looked likely to vomit at the task to come the moment he did open his mouth.

Harry quickly told that he was fine, he knew what he was doing, though he did wonder why he kept telling people this as he'd never been less fine in his life.

"A terrible habit I wish you'd break," Lily muttered, as Harry said that too commonly now when it came to his headaches.

A whistle blew, and Bagman jumped in surprise as he sprinted off to do his job.

"What you get, you little-" James cut himself off with a few more terse mutters that in no way cut off what Remus kept forcing out.

Harry went back to the tent to see Cedric walking out. Harry tried to wish him good luck, but all that came out was a hoarse noise.

"Credit for trying," Lily tried to get out, though she knew she didn't sound much better.

Harry went back inside to see Fleur had taken up Cedric's pacing, and the three of them listened to the crowd. It didn't do them any good, as all they heard were gasping and applause for whatever Cedric was doing.

"Thought Bagman was supposed to be commentating," Remus grumbled, thinking that would be easier to think about than a random crowd reaction that could be to anything. "He's doing a terrible job of it."

"The less description of them the better," Lily shivered. "I'm going to be having enough nightmares when we get to Harry's, no need to preemptively tell me what to fear."

"Probably isn't too good at his job anyways," James snapped, clearly still rankled over the encounter. "All he does is spout off names, doesn't know how to really describe the action."

Bagman was occasionally inserting a comment or two about how clever something had been, or the risks being taken.

"I stand corrected," Remus rolled his eyes.

"Not hardly," James scoffed, everything they said was still true.

Then the crowd roared in approval, and Bagman confirmed Cedric had gotten his egg. There was silence as the marks were shown, but not told, and then another whistle as Fleur left with her head held high.

Lily couldn't help but agree with Harry in that moment. Though she was losing a shade of color with every passing moment it was getting closer to Harry's turn, and with Fleur being her least favorite contestant so far, even she could see how much it would take of a person to willingly walk into a dragon's den like that.

It was the same all over again up till the end results, and then it was Krum's turn.

And still, even after everything that had happened, none of them could help the mental complaint of why that couldn't just be the last time that stupid whistle was to be blown.

Harry started his own bout of pacing, listening to the noise in a distant way as everything around him seemed too bright.

"Adrenaline will do the strangest things to your body," James agreed absently.

Bagman made a few comments about whatever Krum had done, shouting about how much nerve it had taken to do that, but then he shouted about Krum getting his egg as well.

"What did he do?" Remus yelped in surprise. "Judging from his remarks, did he just charge out to meet the dragon head on?"

"Don't know, hoping I don't have to find out," Lily grumbled, now massaging at her chest that was thundering so hard against her ribs she was sure they'd crack soon. Harry hadn't even had his turn yet and she couldn't seem to find air, and it was only going to get worse when it did. After he was out of the arena, she never wanted to hear talk of dragons again.

The last whistle, and Harry left for the enclosure.

Remus released a deep breath he felt he'd been holding for ages, but there was nothing for it now. He could just keep glancing up as often as he needed to at Harry now, clearly more than fourteen, alive and well, to convince himself he could get past this no matter what.

Everything passed around him in a blur until he was standing in the arena with the dragon. Fifty feet long, with black impenetrable scales and snake-yellow eyes, with deadly fangs and barbs on its tail, the Horntail was a true monster as she hissed at him, smoke already threatening to curl out of her open maw.

The crowd was making some noise around him, but Harry had no idea if it was friendly or not; he didn't care.

"I'd like to think it was an honest combination of both," James muttered, thinking that Hogwarts really couldn't be so shallow to still be roaring disapproval at Harry even in the face of a dragon. Not that cheers would do him any better, but still, it was the principal.

Harry blocked the noise out, and went to work, raising his wand and calling 'Accio Firebolt.'

Sirius felt like someone was constantly flicking his heart, making it do several jump starts that he was sure wasn't normal, but this had been going on since Harry had been led down to the enclosure, so he was growing used to the feeling now and at least had a moment to appreciate that Harry at least had the best broom in the world under him when it came. If he'd trust one thing to help him get past a dragon, at least it could be that.

Harry didn't have long to wait, when he heard the noise of the approaching broom hurtling around the trees right towards him.

No one had really doubted he'd be able to pull it off, but now that the moment had come and his strategy had arrived, everything did come back to them with some clarity. They were no longer listening with quite the same loud buzzing in their ears at least.

Harry mounted his broom, and took off. The moment his feet flew from the ground, something amazing happened: everything went silent, and Harry's worry disappeared. Listening wasn't important,

Though ironically as Harry looked around he found the exact opposite going on, now sure they'd never been listening so hard in their lives. His father had his knee pressed against Harry's in what he assumed was an unconscious gesture just to keep him as close as possible without overreacting. Sirius was burrowed into himself with the baby his life support, his eyes staring at nothing as his head remained cocked to the side to take in every word. Lily's hand was twitching with the impulse to snatch the book away from Remus, read it herself already just to hear it all and be over. Remus' words were slurring together slightly and every time he finished a sentence he'd hesitate a second longer than was normal but still forced himself to keep going in an almost calm voice. It was almost fascinating, and extremely unnecessary, but Harry still couldn't help but watch the lot of them, his family, worry like this.

the crowd melted away and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog.

"Don't you compare that thing to me!" Sirius rasped out, the first intelligible thing he'd said in a while.

James' first impulse was to reach over and try to smother his best friend for that running bleeding gag, and for cutting Remus off at such a moment, but unbelievably they were all just a little calmer for it as well. If there was one thing they knew of by now, Harry was a superb flyer, and he now had his broom. Harry would get past this.

He was left feeling almost free as something familiar came back to him. This was no more complicated than another Quidditch match, and that dragon was just an extremely ugly opponent.

"You're still not endearing me to this game," Lily muttered with unease, though her usual agitation at the game wasn't present in her voice. She'd take a Quidditch match over this any day.

Harry didn't really notice, as his mind flashed back to last year and his championship game, where he'd had that funny dream about dragons appearing while he played Quidditch. Guess now he understood why he'd felt a premonition about that, but he really wished his brain would stop supplying these things that seemed to inevitably come true.

Harry dived back down towards the dragon for some diversionary tactics, and the Horntail retaliated by blasting fire at him.

Lily couldn't help but startle a bit with nerves at the thought, her own flame colored hair nearly going on end in shock, but Remus wasn't going to pause for a blow that didn't even strike Harry.

Harry dodged as if he were swerving a Bludger.

"A Bludger that's a good thousand degrees hotter, but at least it can't chase you in the same way," James muttered agreeably.

Harry started circling her head, trying to make her dizzy, and when it seemed to be working for a moment Harry made a dive, but not fast enough this time.

Lily felt a screech building up in her throat, her hands automatically flying up to cover her ears so she didn't have to hear what happened to her baby, but again Remus couldn't bring himself to pause as he wanted to know the full extent of whatever blow Harry received.

He'd dodged the mouth, but had instead been grazed by the horned tail, though the cut didn't feel too deep as it grazed his robes.

"Tell me that thing's not poisonous at the end!" James gasped out between a shaking jaw.

"No, no," Remus quickly soothed as he saw the fear on all of them, "if Harry only felt a scratch than that's the worst of it."

James and the others sagged back in relief, not wanting to think what would have happened if Harry had suddenly lost temporary use of one of his arms at such a crucial time.

Still he was forced to zoom away again and rethink. He needed the Horntail to try and take flight, but she was too protective of her eggs to get that far away. Harry had to find some way to persuade her though, or he'd never get close enough. He started zooming back in forth in front of her again, staying at just the correct distance to be close enough of a nuisance, but not so far away she'd lose interest. She tried to blow fire at him again, but Harry avoided that. Her head kept twitching to keep him in sight as she bared her fangs and roared.

That sounded sort of like snake charming to Lily, though she was thankful Harry's gift of Parselmouth didn't extend to the snakes' more beast-like relatives: she didn't want to hear what that dragon would be screaming at her Hare Bare.

Harry flew a little higher and now she was squirming to keep him in sight. He was like an annoying fly to her she wanted to swat, but now he was out of range. She tried to shoot more fire but still he dodged.

Remus' composure was cracking, he couldn't put into words how dangerous Harry was playing this, taunting a nesting mother, and the fear that Harry was going to get a very real injury from messing with her before he had the chance to dive down and grab his egg kept lingering behind his mind's eye, expecting to read out the fateful words any moment. If this didn't end soon, he was going to end up with double vision and probably pass out from stress.

Finally Harry was too much, and she got to her feet, stretching her massive wings and rearing up to come at him, but Harry dived. He swerved down past her legs, and before she even knew it his hands came free of his broom to grab the egg with his good arm. Then he was speeding back and away as the volume returned.

The book slipped out of Remus' hands, though for the first time in pure relief of that finally being over. He rubbed furiously at his eyes for several moments until bright spots appeared, just for something else to see than that bloody forsaken print.

"Oh thank Merlin, I couldn't take much more," James groaned with an odd look of ecstasy on his face as finally all the tension building in his stomach, where he'd had his hand firmly pressed this entire time like he was trying to hold in his innards, was able to release.

Lily couldn't find words to add her agreement.

"Never again," Sirius practically sobbed, still looking more worn than the others and not feeling nearly as relieved at this being over as he would have thought: he was still too wrung up over the incident to feel that. "Never, ever, again do I want to hear mention of those f'ing things around."

Harry tried to laugh it off, wanted more than anything in that moment to tell Sirius that of course this was the last time Harry had a dragon encounter, but the words wouldn't come, and as Remus moved to get the book back and finish his piece, his silence went unnoticed in the relieved room.

The crowd was going more wild with approval than at the World Cup, Bagman was shouting with approval over his victory, how the youngest of them had the best time!

"Really?" Lily couldn't help but raise a brow in surprise. Not that she even wanted, or cared, to know how the other champions had done now that she had proof her son had been fine, but it was still an odd comment. "It sounded like you taunted that thing for a bit. I would have guessed you'd taken the longest."

Harry just shrugged; they knew as well as he did what all had gone on.

Harry watched as the dragon keepers were coming forward to subdue the Horntail, then spotted McGonagall, Moody, and Hagrid waving him down. Harry went to their side feeling lighter than he had in weeks: he had survived the first task!

"There's the bright side," James got out in a weak chuckle, his mind already trying to taunt him with the thought of 'if this had been the first task, what are the others going to be like,' just to ruin his mood, but he swiftly beat that away and tried to just enjoy this one moment of Harry surviving this.

McGonagall was exceptionally pale as she congratulated him, but still told that he needed to go to the med tent and get his shoulder checked before he saw his scores. Diggory was already there being cleaned up.

"Yeesh, that didn't sound encouraging," Remus said with genuine pity for Diggory, feeling bad that he'd had the least time of all to prepare for this, and hoping nothing permanent had happened to him.

Hagrid was booming with praise as well about how Harry had done it, even though Charlie had said-

Harry cut him off there to save Hagrid the mistake of revealing Harry knew beforehand.

"Got to love Hagrid," Lily said genuinely as she smoothed some hair out of her face, honestly surprised at this point she hadn't gone bald from stress.

McGonagall escorted him away then to Pomfrey, who was already in a tirade as he sat down about all the dangerous nonsense that went on around this school. Last year dementors, this year dragons, what would it be next!

"I just want him to survive this year before I have to freak out about that," James muttered bitterly, hoping with everything he had the answer would finally be nothing!

She healed the shallow cut quick enough, but still told him to sit and rest for a moment before popping off to check on Diggory who was hidden behind a curtain. Harry was too keyed up to stay still, though, as he got to his feet and made for the entrance, when Hermione and Ron darted in.

They were all just too bone tired and weary after hearing about this to even bother to tense up in agitation for that. The fact that Ron showed up with Hermione like that must mean that Ron had to have finally come to his senses, to apologize.

Hermione was squealing what a brilliant job he'd done, with fingernail marks in her face where she'd been clutching in fear.

Lily rubbed absently at her face, thinking she wouldn't be surprised if she'd looked the same way at the time.

Harry hardly listened, though, his eyes on Ron, who was watching him like a ghost.

Remus' anger at Ron was already melting away, finally looking past his attitude and just seeing that angry boy who was sick of being looked over. He still thought Ron should have acted better, thought with his head and some slight resentment rather than his emotions, but clearly seeing Harry in such a life or death moment had jarred Ron back to reality.

Ron began seriously,

"Now why would you go dragging me into this?" Sirius asked, finally being able to really smile again for the first time since he'd heard of the stupid dragons to begin with.

Remus groaned and kept reading that little bit louder to drown out Harry's laughter at that joke; he really wished Harry would stop encouraging that.

that whoever had put in Harry's name into that Goblet was out to get Harry.

"Almost had a good go of it," Lily grumbled without any real agitation anymore; she couldn't find it in herself to hold it against Ron now that he was acting the right way.

Harry felt the last few weeks melt away between them, but still asked with a touch of cold that Ron had finally caught on and it had taken him long enough.

Sirius sighed and fidgeted a bit to stop himself saying something. He knew he shouldn't blame Harry if he did decide not to forgive Ron, but he hoped Harry would. Ron was a good friend who'd made a mistake after all.

Hermione watched the pair nervously as Ron opened his mouth, clearly to apologize, but suddenly Harry found he didn't need it.

Finally they were all smiling again, almost as happy as before this tournament had started. Harry still had two more tasks to live through, but if there was one thing that could make this seem okay again, it was that at least everyone who should be on his side was now.

Harry told that he didn't need to hear it, and though Ron tried to say it anyways, Harry promised he just wanted to forget about it. Ron grinned, and Harry returned it.

Lily was as happy as anyone, but she really did hope the boys would still have a talk. Thankfully Ron had chosen to be the bigger person and apologized, but she still couldn't help but worry if they didn't discuss the problem then it could possibly happen again. Resentment could fester, and the next time things might not have such a happy ending.

Hermione burst into tears.

Remus flinched like someone had just chucked a miniature dragon at his head. Lily rolled her eyes at him and all of the boys' suddenly horrified expressions.

Harry watched her in surprise as he said there was nothing to be crying about, but she started crying as she told them both they were being stupid. She hugged them before running out with waterworks.

"She's insane," James said weakly, though Hermione's reaction still wasn't the worst thing Harry's friends had done of late.

"She's emotional," Lily corrected. "She's spent the past few days fearing for Harry's life and then had to live through that in the stands, and then finally felt some relief of watching her two friends make up."

"Girls," Sirius muttered with a deep shake of his head, ignoring Lily's stank eye.

Ron told that she was barking mad as she ran off.

"He's lucky to be using my favorite phrase after I forgave him," Sirius' smirk widened to the agitation of all except Harry.

Then Ron dragged Harry back to the pens so that Harry could see his score. Ron instantly began telling Harry that he was the best of all.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Remus chuckled.

"I think Harry's due for some," James smirked.

Cedric had tried to transfigure a rock into a dog, hoping the dragon would go for it instead of him,

"That's really clever," Lily admitted as her mind flickered with the possibilities.

"Poor dog though," Sirius said sagely.

but it had only worked temporarily when the dragon turned back to Cedric and gave him a burn,

"Oh, the poor dear," Lily instantly switched to concern that he'd been caught so bad!

"Hopefully that won't be a permanent marring," James winced in sympathy. "Pomfrey should be able to get rid of the burn marks."

but Cedric had still gotten his egg in the end.

Fleur had tried to charm her dragon, had almost put it to sleep, but when it snored it caught her skirt on fire, but she'd got there in the end as well.

"I've never heard of that kind of charm," Lily said in surprise.

"Might be a French type of spell," Remus offered with the same curiosity, thinking that foreigners might have some other ways to lull beasts to sleep that weren't in British type texts.

Krum had tried to hit his in the eye with some spell,

"He went for the obvious shot," James nodded.

but that only angered the beast, she'd stomped around and crushed some of her real eggs.

Remus winced in genuine pity for those poor unborn dragons. He may not be particularly fond of them, especially after all the trouble they'd caused Harry, but it was still a sad moment.

"Guess it's a good thing I didn't do that," Harry yelped in surprise, as that didn't sound like a particularly good strategy.

"You definitely found the best way," Sirius nodded in agreement, ironically thinking it was a good thing Ron had interrupted Sirius now from giving that advice.

He'd got marks taken off for that: the real eggs weren't supposed to be damaged.

By this time they'd reached the enclosure again and Harry spotted where the judges had been sitting. Ron quickly explained he was scored out of ten, just as Maxime raised her wand and an eight appeared in the sky.

Ron applauded with the rest of the crowd, noting that she'd probably docked points for his shoulder wound. Crouch, then Dumbledore awarded Harry nine points, then Bagman ten.

Harry asked why on earth he'd done that?

"Most likely your original technique outweighed the minor injury," Lily offered with a happy smile. They were all pleased Harry was getting the proper marks he should be for his display of talent, but none of them could muster up too much enthusiasm for it either: it was still rewarding him for something he never should have had to do.

Ron told him off for complaining as he jumped around in excitement.

"You are most likely the only person who would say something about it," Sirius agreed with a snort.

Karkaroff went last, only handing out a four.

"What a cheap!" James yelped in outrage. "There's no way Harry deserved that low of a mark!"

"At least Maxime was fair on him," Remus agreed tersely.

Ron shouted in outrage about how he'd given his own champion a ten!

"What a wanker," Sirius scowled venomously.

Harry found he didn't care. Karkaroff could have given him a zero, but Ron's outrage on his behalf more than made up for it.

Which tempered off their moods as well. As annoying as all the judges felt at the moment, at least the real person whose opinion mattered was behaving right.

Harry didn't say that aloud, but as he and Ron left Harry had never felt better. Those hadn't just been Gryffindors applauding him: when it had come down to it the whole school had been cheering him on as much as Cedric.

Unlike with Ron, they really felt like that was too little too late in the grand scheme; they'd put Harry through hell treating him the way they had until it mattered, but it was at least nice to hear that they were trying to make up the difference at least after the fact.

Charlie came over to them before they could leave, congratulating him and telling how Harry was now tied for first with Krum! He couldn't stay, though: he had to go write a letter to his Mum to tell her the good news. Bagman wanted a word with the champions before they left, though.

Ron promised he'd wait, so Harry went back inside the tent to an opposite atmosphere. He found the place much more pleasant now, and upon reflection, found that the wait had certainly been worse than the act of facing the dragon.

"Your mind can often be crueler than the real world," Remus agreed.

"Where do you keep pulling that crap from?" Sirius rolled his eyes at him.

The other champions arrived as well, Cedric with some orange paste on his face to help with his burn.

"Oh, the poor thing got hit in the face." Lily's concern really did spike at that.

Sirius wanted to make a joke about how that would ruin Cedric's pretty looks at least, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. So far Cedric hadn't gone out of his way to treat Harry like crap like the rest of his house, and no one really deserved a burned-up face.

Bagman came bounding inside, as pleased as if he'd just thwarted a dragon himself.

"Still want to slap him into a dragon's nest," James huffed, wishing it had been anyone else delivering what this news was.

Bagman quickly congratulated them all and gave them the date of the next task, then said that if they wanted some clues as to what that would be, all they had to do was open the egg and solve that.

"That's rather clever," Lily said without any of the usual enthusiasm she'd have liked. She did love riddles and clues, and integrating the two tasks together like that was rather brilliant, but still there was always that nagging agitation of Harry having to deal with it.

"So long as it does not relate to a second egg-laying monster," Sirius shot back with still a bit more agitation that this stupid tournament couldn't just be over after the one task.

They were free to go then, and Harry caught back up with Ron, asking for more details of what the others had done. They didn't get far, though, when Rita Skeeter appeared.

"Where's Hermione when you need her?" Remus grumbled. "I'd like to see Rita get slapped."

"Hopefully Harry'll toss her a good curse and she'll steer clear for the next century," Lily sniffed.

She seemed more than cheerful as she greeted Harry, asking if she could have a word.

"I can give you several," James said with a grin that wasn't at all pleasant.

"I'm sure you could," Lily quickly interrupted before he could get started, "but compile them for later, love."

"I get the feeling you'll need them," Remus agreed.

Harry was surprised she was really so daft after all the crap she'd done to him that she even had the gall to come up to him like that.

Sirius was just worried that this would cause a relapse in Ron all over again. He'd just walked in on the source of that first argument.

She tried to squeeze in some questions, but Harry did indeed give her a word, good-bye.

Then he and Ron went up to the castle.

"That's even better than what I was going to say," James cackled.

"Hope Ron got a good laugh out of that one," Sirius agreed.

Remus tried to pass the book to Lily while rubbing at his eyes, so it took him a moment to notice Lily declare, "No, that's it." She took the book away from Remus but closed it instead of starting. "I cannot handle any more tonight. Bed, all of you."

"Yes, Mum," Sirius pouted, watching her take up her baby and head for the stairs, clearly stating the matter was closed.

James and Harry exchanged a look, but didn't argue the point as they followed.

Remus and Sirius however, exchanged a look, and though Remus yawned and looked likely to fall back on the couch any moment for his own rest, both still had wide, alert eyes.

HPHPHPHPHP

I'm enjoying asking you guys random questions now and seeing what kinds of responses I get. This time, let me know your favorite subject, and what you think you'd be good at. They are two different things.

My favorites are Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration, the first because I'm just a huge animal lover, whether it can eat me or not (still a Hagrid, yes) and the second because the idea of changing something's very nature into something else is as magical as it can get to me and it's just the most fascinating class.

What I might have the propensity of actually being good at, though, is potions. I love to read, and I would patiently go over every instruction and make sure of every ingredient, but I also love to experiment, so once I got through the basics I'd turn into a Snape-like person and start experimenting and trying new ways to make the potions even better.

Let me know about you!

[silverswordsandlutes]

Honey and Milk

[Part One] [Chapter Two] [Ao3]

Chapter One

The town was larger than Geralt normally liked, but even he had to admit that a proper bed and a hot bath would be nice after over a week on the road. With directions from the guard posted at the gate, he and Jaskier made their way through the bustling main street toward the inn and tavern, Roach in tow with her reins in Geralt’s hand. People had booths set up along the side of the road, peddling produce and butchered meats and trinkets and all other manner of goods. Geralt was fairly certain that one woman was trying to sell cheap charms and potions, and when Jaskier paused to have a look at her wares, Geralt hauled him off with a hand on the back of his neck, ignoring his protests.

“No good comes from roadside charms and spells,” the witcher said in way of explanation when Jaskier crossed his arms and looked at him petulantly.

It wasn’t long before the booths thinned out, giving way to finer shops selling fabric and books and other goods likely imported from the larger cities. There was even a proper apothecary--Geralt could smell the medicinal herbs over the street stink as they walked past the open door. Even though he doubted there would be work for a witcher in a town like this, it was still comforting to know there was a proper healer nearby. At the very least, he could restock some herbs he needed for his somewhat depleted potion supply.

The inn came into view and Jaskier let out a quiet whistle. “Not going to be a cheap night, eh, Geralt?”

The witcher hummed in agreement.

The building looked well-kept, keeping in line with the nice neighborhood it sat in. It was also easily the tallest building in the town, reaching up four stories--the upper floors even had glass panes in the windows. This was clearly a nice establishment unused to the likes of Geralt stepping through its doors. Jaskier, on the other hand, would be right at home, surrounded by a proper audience.

Geralt’s purse ached at the thought of the cost, though. Having travelled mostly through small farming settlements and dense woodland, there had been little work that paid much more than a few coins.

As if reading his mind, Jaskier patted his shoulder and walked ahead of him, calling back, “I’m sure after a few songs I’ll have made enough for a hot meal, a room, and a bath. Place like this, there are bound to be plenty of people who want to toss a coin to my witcher.” Jaskier shot him a grin and a wink and pushed the tavern door open.

Rolling his eyes, Geralt made his way more slowly.

He hitched Roach to the post with a few other horses, patting her neck and removing his bags, swords and all, from her saddle.

“If Jaskier makes enough coin, I’ll have you stabled and brushed like you deserve,” he told her, and the mare snorted quietly and bumped his shoulder affectionately with her nose.

After he made sure Roach was secure, Geralt finally went into the tavern with a sigh of resignation. The sound of the crowd washed over him before anything else when he opened the door, a cacophonous wave of laughter and conversation. The next thing that hit him was the smell of beer and food, and his stomach growled. As he shouldered his way through the throng of people milling about, he took another deep breath. Other than inevitably spilled ale and the sweat of the crowd, there were none of the other scents Geralt usually associated with drink houses--namely piss and vomit. This place was actually clean.

The price tag in his head went up a few more coins and Geralt pressed his lips together in a hard line.

He spotted Jaskier at the bar, leaning over the polished wood to speak to the barman. His body language was easy and relaxed, and Geralt could see his shoulders shaking with laughter. But the way the barman was looking at his bard had him gritting his teeth.

“Jaskier,” he said as he approached, hand going to the small of Jaskier’s back.

“Geralt!” He turned his head to give a radiant smile and he leaned back into the touch. “Mikkel here has agreed to let me play tonight in exchange for a hot meal.” Jaskier turned his pretty blue eyes back to Mikkel. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind including my friend’s meal, would you?”

The barman looked none too pleased at Geralt’s appearance, but he looked back to Jaskier with a smile that was tight around the corners and said, “Of course not. I’ll have your meals sent to your table.”

Jaskier positively beamed and thanked him before he led Geralt to a small table tucked in a quiet corner. The witcher couldn’t help shooting the barman a quick glare--though it unfortunately landed on his back--then returned his attention to Jaskier. He looked completely in his element, surrounded by people and noise and the warm glow of the room. His eyes were lit up, looked bluer than the ocean, and his smile was breathtaking. Geralt looked away when they sat down and instead swept his gaze around the large room.

The evening was young and it was surprising that there were so many people already in the tavern. Geralt supposed it came with the wealth this town obviously had; the folks laughing and socializing were all dressed well, the fabric mostly untouched by a hard day’s work. Being around this type made him uneasy, but a glance at Jaskier and he could tell he was putting together a list of songs that would bring in the most coin. His bard knew how to take advantage of a crowd, how to read them, and the way his eyes darted around the room, he was definitely plotting.

The two sat together in a comfortable silence until their meals arrived, each watching the people around them. Jaskier smiled cheerfully up at Mikkel, who had brought it upon himself to personally deliver their food.

“Thank you very much, my good sir,” Jaskier said, elbowing Geralt, who just grunted a quiet thanks, eyes hard as he stared at the barman until he left, clearly uncomfortable.

Good.

“You really ought to work on your manners, Geralt,” Jaskier said, not for the first time since they met. He brought a piece of hard crusted bread to his mouth. “It would really do wonders for your reputation,” he added, and then he bit into the bread with a pleased hum that was nearly drowned out by the bar noise.

Geralt scoffed and reached for his ale. “My reputation is fine the way it is,” he muttered. It appeared Jaskier hadn’t heard him as he began to eat, and that was just fine.

Despite his hunger, Geralt only picked at his food, something Jaskier said earlier distracting him.

“Do you really think I’m your witcher?” he finally asked some minutes later from around the rim of his tankard.

"Do you really think you’re not my witcher?” Jaskier countered with a smile.

I’m whatever you want me to be, Geralt thought, though he didn’t say it; he simply hummed and took a long drink from his ale.

Thoughts like that had been coming to him more and more often since their tryst in the woods. It was unnerving. Geralt had never once in his life belonged to anyone, but he was beginning to think that he unequivocally belonged to Jaskier. It made him frown into his beer.

It wasn’t long before Jaskier finished his dinner and reached for his lute case, giving Geralt a cheeky grin. “Time to earn us our room, then,” he said, bracing his hand on Geralt’s shoulder as he stood, his touch lingering longer than necessary once he was on his feet.

Geralt wanted to take hold of his wrist and keep him close, pull him into a long, drawn out kiss that left them both breathless. His fingers twitched minutely, but he remained still and just watched Jaskier walk away and set up his lute case for the performance. Each movement was deliberate, bordering on theatrical, and he looked absolutely at ease as he began to pluck at the strings, tuning a few of them until they were perfect to his ear; it also served the purpose of drawing attention to himself, many of the tavern’s patrons turning curious eyes in Jaskier’s direction. And without any preamble, he launched into his first song.

It took no time for Jaskier to have the room singing along--he was a household name, after all. Soon, the tavern was packed, word of his presence having spread, and he was so obviously living for this, joy clear on his beautiful face, forget-me-not eyes shining.

“The fishmonger’s daughter--” Jaskier sang out, and the crowd bah’d back at him to his delight.

Geralt didn’t take his eyes off of him the entire night, the rest of his meal forgotten and cold. He watched the way Jaskier moved through the crowd, flashed charming smiles that made a few maidens swoon. But somehow those baby-blues always landed on the Geralt, gleaming with mirth, and it made his chest feel warm and tight, and it made his slow heart beat just a little bit faster. Geralt blamed it on the ale and set the chipped mug down, crossing his arms.

It wasn’t long after that Jaskier returned, his coin purse jingling merrily. Geralt watched as he set his lute case carefully on the floor and braced both hands on the back of the chair across from him. His face was split with a wide smile, cheeks flushed, and his chestnut hair stuck a bit to his sweaty forehead. Geralt’s eyes dropped to Jaskier’s lips when his tongue darted out to wet them, unconsciously licking his own.

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” Jaskier said, a parody of their first meeting, and Geralt cracked a smile. “Come on, grab the bags. I already paid for the room and a bath. And I’ve had Roach stabled, so no need to worry about her.”

Without a word, Geralt stood and hauled the bags and his swords onto his shoulder then followed Jaskier through the crowd, staying close behind him.

As they weaved their way toward the stairs, several people called out to Jaskier and he returned their greetings with waves and smiles. One young woman even clung to his arm, pulling him to a stop and looking up at him with doe eyes and an enticing smile. She stood on her toes to whisper something in Jaskier's ear, and Geralt watched in quiet amusement, though, when her hand began to wander over his bard's chest, he pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Apologies, dear lady, but my companion and I have been on the road for over a week," Jaskier said, offering her a regretful smile, "and we're going to turn in for the night."

Watching the troubadour turn down what was no doubt a proposition sent a smug sort of heat spreading through Geralt's chest. Without a word, he gently touched Jaskier's elbow and he peeled himself from the woman's grasp so they could continue on their way. He didn't miss the sour expression on her face, and the smug feeling only grew.

It took longer than Geralt would have liked for them to reach the stairs, Jaskier pausing here and there to chat with patrons of the tavern. However, each time Geralt grew impatient and discretely touched his back or shoulder or brushed their hands together, Jaskier would politely excuse himself and they would continue on their way. But they finally reached the stairs and Geralt let out a breath, hand going to rest on the small of Jaskier's back like he was keeping him from changing his mind and rejoining the crowd.

“Are you growing impatient, dear witcher?” Jaskier teased, voice quiet so that only Geralt could hear it above the din. “Eager to get me alone?”

Geralt grunted and practically shoved Jaskier up the stairs, earning a laugh from him.

Their room was on the third floor and it was obvious that Jaskier spent good coin on it. There was a large bed piled with quilts across from the fireplace, a fire already crackling in its hearth. On the other side of the room, near the window and partitioned from the rest of the space with a privacy screen, was a large copper tub. The bath had already been prepared, steam rolling off the hot water and fogging the glass window panes.

Geralt opened his mouth to protest, to tell Jaskier that his coin was better saved than spent so frivolously, but the words died in his throat when petal-soft lips kissed him sweetly. The bags slid from his shoulder and landed on the floor with a solid thud, and his arms encircled Jaskier’s waist, pulling him flush to his chest. A pleased sigh left Jaskier when their tongues met, slid over one another, and he framed Geralt’s face with his strong hands. When they parted, Jaskier smiled and pressed a kiss to the tip of the Geralt's nose, laughing when it scrunched up almost instinctively.

“It’s my coin, so I’ll spend it how I like,” he said, patting Geralt’s chest with both hands. “Now, get undressed so we can take a bath.” Before he had even finished speaking, Jaskier was unbuckling the witcher’s leather armor.

He made no move to help him, standing still while skilled hands made quick work of the straps. Soon he was stripped down to the black linen shirt he wore beneath the leather. Geralt had to admit that he loved the way Jaskier undressed him so efficiently, the way he always had. Helping hands with his armor were appreciated, even if he had been reluctant at first. (“Oh, come off it, Geralt. Two pairs of hands are better than one. Besides I can reach the buckles better than you.”)

A quiet, disappointed huff left Geralt when Jaskier didn’t continue to undress him, when he just stooped to gather their bags and then nudged the leather armor to the side and out of the way with his foot. He watched him stride across the room and unceremoniously dump their belongings on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Jaskier pawed through one of the bags until he produced his grooming kit, filled with scented oils, a bar of goat’s milk soap, and a comb carved from bone. Their eyes met a moment later, and Jaskier straightened, putting one hand on his hip, the other still clutching the kit.

“Are you deaf, witcher?” he said, but there was unmistakable fondness in the cadence of his voice. “Get undressed. Chop, chop.”

Geralt deliberately dawdled a few moments more and reached down to pick up the swords that had been abandoned on the floor when he dropped the bags. As he rested them against the foot of the bed with their other things and then sat heavily, the mattress dipping under his weight, he bit back a smirk at the dramatic sigh Jaskier let out. While he removed his boots, his eyes followed Jaskier as he walked to the tub and set a veil of oil, the soap, and the comb on the stool nearby.

Only when Jaskier shrugged out of his doublet did Geralt stand, footsteps made silent by bare feet as he crossed the space. He stopped behind Jaskier, listened to the rustle of fabric as the seafoam colored jacket hit the floor, and his hands ghosted over perfect, slender hips. This close, he could see the goose flesh raise the fine hairs on the back of Jaskier’s neck and Geralt made a low burring sound, wrapped strong arms around Jaskier’s middle and pressed his face into the curve of his neck.

He smelled like the sweat from the earlier performance, like the warm, stuffy air of the tavern below, like the cloying perfume of the woman who had clung to him before. But when he breathed deep, Geralt could smell Jaskier, warm like the flowers he was named for, like sunlight and ozone and the promise of spring rain. And faintly, only at the back of his throat, Geralt could smell the sweet, heady musk of his desire.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Jaskier,” Geralt whispered roughly against his skin.

Jaskier leaned back against him with a quiet hum, even turned and pressed a kiss to his temple. The show of affection had Geralt’s chest squeezing and he tightened his arms around his waist.

For as long as he had known him, Jaskier had been liberal with touch--patted his shoulder or nudged him with an elbow during conversation, leaned against him when they sat together on cold nights by the campfire, draped an arm around his shoulders when he retold one of their adventures to a group in some backwater tavern; but since the night in the woods, the touches had changed--a hand would linger for longer than necessary on his arm when Jaskier left to get them beers from the bar, or fingers would ghost over Geralt’s knuckles when they walked close, a palm would slid down his thigh to rest on his knee under the table when they shared a bench at a tavern (not that they had come across many in the last week).

Geralt certainly couldn’t say he minded, but what was alarming was that he found himself craving the affection and even returning it. Witchers weren't built for wanting, they were efficient killers, and anyone who decided they wanted to be with one had to be short a few marbles.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice broke him out of his thoughts and he lifted his head a bit.

“Hmm?”

Jaskier easily turned in his arms, rested his hands on Geralt’s broad chest and fiddled with the medallion resting there. “Get undressed and get in the bath,” he said, pushing him away with that small, mischievous smile of his.

Geralt let his arms drop and he watched Jaskier pull his shirt from his trousers and then off completely; watched as he dripped a little bit of the oil into the bath water, the scent of lavender and chamomile wafting toward him; watched as he bent to remove his boots; watched as his trousers slid from his hips and pooled around his ankles.

After that show, Geralt wasted no time undressing, and his clothes joined Jaskier’s on the floor. When Jaskier turned to look at him, his piercing blue eyes trailed slowly along his body, and Geralt saw the light flush of color that dusted his cheeks and turned the tips of his ears pink. And when Jaskier took half a step closer, he could smell the perfume of his arousal. Despite that, however, Jaskier just motioned for him to get in the tub, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

Without complaint, Geralt stepped past Jaskier--though, not without brushing a hand over his hip--and slowly sank into the hot, lightly scented water. In spite of himself, he sighed contentedly and tipped his head back against the rim of the tub. Behind him, he heard the stool scrape against the wood floor and a second later, Jaskier’s clever fingers were untying the leather thong that kept his hair back from his face. And then the gentle tug of the comb working the snarls out drew a hum from Geralt.

The two sat in a comfortable silence as Jaskier combed his hair, and Geralt thought about how this had become a routine for them--Jaskier sitting on a stool behind him, working out the tangles and then washing his hair until it was shiny and white, rather than tinged grey with dirt and old blood. Geralt wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point along the way, it had become a great comfort to him, something he looked forward to when they had the extra coin to spend at inns.

A soft touch to his shoulder drew Geralt from his thoughts and then he felt Jaskier’s lips brush against the shell of his ear. “Lean forward a bit,” he murmured, and Geralt did.

Before stepping into the bath, he had noticed two small buckets filled with extra water; Jaskier used half of one to wet Geralt’s hair and the hot water spilled over his shoulders and down his face. It felt nice, soothed muscles that always seemed to ache, and Geralt gave a quiet hum and just sat with his head bowed forward, wet hair dripping around his face. He stayed like that when he heard Jaskier lather the goat’s milk soap in the water behind him, and he especially stayed like that when he felt Jaskier begin to wash his back.

He smoothed his palms over Geralt's skin, lingered on old scars and new ones alike, and Geralt sighed, a small shiver rolling through him. And then strong fingers were digging into his hair, scrubbing away the dirt and grime and blood. The sensation drew a satisfied moan from Geralt, especially when Jaskier scratched his dull nails gently over his scalp, and he leaned his head back into the touch.

A quiet chuckle sounded beside his ear just before Geralt felt a pair of soft lips against the stubble of his jaw--it was quite long now, nearly long enough to rightfully be considered a beard.

"Who would have guessed that such a mighty witcher could be so pliant under a humble bard's touch," Jaskier mused hushedly.

Then he pulled away and there was the sound of shuffling behind Geralt, a murmured warning of, "Keep your eyes closed." And then Jaskier was rinsing the soap from his hair, water once again dripping down his face and over his shoulders. But Geralt didn't mind. Not when Jaskier set the bucket down and moved so that he could gently wipe the droplets from his eyelashes and murmur an apology, a smile in his words.

Only when the hands pulled away from his face, did Geralt open his eyes. He watched as Jaskier stepped into the tub and sank down in front of him, watched as he glanced over his shoulder with his too-blue eyes and a charming smile.

"Wash my back?" Jaskier asked, holding up the milk and honey scented soap. And really, when was the last time Geralt had said 'no' to his bard?

He accepted the soap, but rather than lather his hands, he leaned forward and buried his face in the crook of Jaskier's neck. It wasn't as if they hadn't touched one another since the night in the woods. They shared a bed roll (though they had before as well, on particularly cold nights). They kissed quite a lot, often in passing--Jaskier would press a kiss to the corner of his mouth after breakfast, or Geralt would catch his lips lazily as they woke. Though, equally as often it was the sort that left them both panting and hard and wanting for more (once in front of a milkmaid when they thought they were alone in a barn; she had looked horrified and disgusted that a witcher would defile a gentleman such as Jaskier). Hell, Jaskier had even pulled him off the road and into the trees to blow him a time or two.

But this, sharing a bath with Jaskier in an expensive room, at an expensive inn, was too good to be true, and Geralt craved it, soaked it up for as long as Jaskier would let him. So he stayed like that, breathing him in and listening to his steady heartbeat for several moments. Jaskier didn't seem to mind; he leaned back into him and hummed a quiet tune while he waited.

"My dear witcher, if we don't wrap this up soon, we'll prune and the water will go cold," Jaskier finally murmured when seconds slipped into minutes, and Geralt groaned in protest but pulled back, leaving a kiss as he did.

Lathering his hands, he leaned over the edge of the tub to put the soap on the stool and then finally got to work. It was satisfying to wash away the dirt from their travels, to leave Jaskier clean and soft and relaxed. Jaskier hummed quietly as large, rough palms smoothed over his skin, fingers lingering on the few scars he had picked up on their adventures, and it made the corners of Geralt's mouth turn up in a small smile.

He took a moment to lean over the edge of the tub and reached for the bucket that was still full. Much like Jaskier had done, he used it to wet his bard's hair, watching the way the rivulets carved paths across his soapy back. And the sound he made when Geralt finally began to scrub at his scalp, a low burring groan from the back of his throat, made Geralt's cock stir with interest. But before long, it was time to rinse him and Jaskier let out a disappointed sigh.

"Have I ever told you how good with your hands you are?" he asked, flashing a cheeky smile over his shoulder.

"Every chance you get," Geralt answered with a snort and a fond roll of his eyes.

"Yes, well. It's not my fault all your witcher training has graced you with the capability to--"

"Jaskier," he huffed in warning--a warning that was met with a peal of musical laughter as Jaskier leaned back against his chest and tipped his head to grin up at him.

Jaskier's face eased into a soft smile and he lifted his hand to trace Geralt's jaw with the pads of his fingers. And honestly, Geralt couldn't remember the last person who had looked at him so tenderly. It made his chest squeeze, not for the first time tonight.

"Let's finish our bath and then I'll give you a massage," Jaskier said, and sat up. "Your back is one solid knot, it's no wonder you're always sore. It's because we sleep on the hard ground, you know. It wouldn't kill you if we rented a room more often. Most towns in this part of the Continent are close enough that we could probably rent a room every night!"

While they finished bathing, Jaskier rambled, and Geralt let him, listening to the sound of his voice more than the words he said.

[cursed-ice-spirits]

Tensions with the Selwyns

After an encounter with the disgraced Donovan Selwyn ( @thecursedvaultchild​ ), Rebecca rushes to inform Summer of this and is reminded how difficult pureblood politics can be. 

Someone was watching her.

You don't get to be trained as an assassin and not know if eyes were watching you specifically. 

Rebecca kept her shoulders tense as she walked through Diagon Alley, lips twisting into frowns as she looked through the windows of shops, making it seem like she's just walking through. No Summer. No Ethren. No Jason. No Lucia here. She was on her own.

A quiet sigh left her lips as she adjusted the strap of her bag. She can feel eyes burning into her back. She had no idea who but… it’s making her anxious. 

She shouldn’t have gone alone. It’s enough to have even more trouble at her back. Maybe she should have taken Luci-- no, she’s spending time with Cassie. Ethren? Jason? Summer? Lauren? Any of her friends - just someone by her side so she wouldn’t be alone. Her eyes searched carefully as she made her way down, passing by the entrance of Knockturn Alley.

A hand darted out from the darkness and dragged her towards it. Rebecca's mind snapped into action, hands lashing out, gripping onto their elbows like she was about to snap them in half, sharp eyes glaring into the eyes of her attacker, a pair of sharp green eyes and a face that held familiarity. That caused her to waver, hesitate, and with the lack of resistance, the man easily dragged her farther in, throwing his wand arm against her throat. 

“Don’t move,” a rough voice hissed. 

Her wand was at her wrist, in her wand holster. She tensed, not letting herself get fooled again. "Excuse me?" She said slowly, stiffly. "What the hell do you want?"

He chuckled. It was deep and rough and rumbling from inside his chest. "Use your head, Caldwell. It's not that hard. You're close to someone I know all too well. I want you to help me. Also foolish to be alone in these times." His grip remained tight and he pressed the wand closer against her throat.

Caldwell. Her shoulders drew together. Gears clicked together at once. Donovan Selwyn. Rodolfo's grandson and Summer's cousin.

Donovan Selwyn, who disappeared years ago.

Donovan Selwyn, who hurt Summer. 

And he wants her to do something for him.

She bared her teeth. Fat chance. 

"And why should I?"

Donovan’s lips curled up. "Because I could easily snap your neck in half. Or far worse..."

He briefly glanced around, pulling her farther into the shadows. She fought the urge to struggle. Play weak. Get more information. He’s underestimating her so far. Use it to your advantage. "You're close with my dear cousin now, aren't you?” Rebecca stiffened. “Don't deny it. I know you care for that vain and wicked girl but you're going to help me bring her down a few pegs."

She's definitely on her own. Her eyes darted around. Her mind is still spinning with questions on how he found out about her connection to Summer, but she can’t focus on that now. She needed to get away. Somehow.

He’s still underestimating her. He’s expecting her to be intimidated. He wants her to be intimidated. If this was anyone else in the Caldwell family, they would certainly be intimidated, but she’s a Lord, despite what the families may think. She's not bending down just yet, and especially not to entitled cousins who think they can use her to take her friend down. She’s got enough of those. 

She raised her eyebrow. "I'm afraid I can't. There's conflict in interests."

His eyes flickered for a moment. He’s caught off guard. Good. "What did you do?" He growled, bringing her closer to his face. "What oath did you make?"

Her lips turned up sharp at the edges. "I think the question is," she purred, eyes dark, "what oath I didn't make?"

His eyes narrowed and his knuckles went white. "There is no way you'd face death without an oath for some pomped up princess who views you as dirt. Whatever she paid for your loyalty, I can double it."

The insults about Summer made her blood boil, but she forced herself not to hex his face off.  He’s lashing out, angry he’s not getting his way. As far as he knows, Summer put her up to something for either money or under an oath, and he’s frustrated because he doesn’t see why she’s rebuffing him. Can’t see why. Not to mention… she’s a Caldwell, and Caldwells are supposed to follow orders of higher nobles. Well, too bad for him, she’s a Lord. A Lord has a backbone, and she has exactly that. 

 Rebecca laughed. Summer didn't buy her loyalty, but she wasn't going to tell him that. That could be something he could use against her. "I have enough money, thank you very much. And that would be a no."

At the last word, she slammed forward and smashed her forehead against his head. She heard a yelp of pain and felt him release his grip on her. Whether their height differences would mean she hit his nose or chin or forehead doesn't matter, because she's used to hard hits as a Quidditch player, and she didn't waste any time before slamming her foot against his stomach, flicking her wrist and finally receiving her wand from her wand holster. 

He had his hand to his head as he tried to regain his balance. Rebecca took this chance to run away. 

"Get back here!"

He recovered (unfortunately) just in time to slash his wand, firing a strange light to her direction. Strangle spell, popped into her mind immediately, before she jumped and kicked her heels up, her body twisting as she performed a backflip in midair, the spell hitting the ground where she was standing seconds before.

Her feet slamming back on the ground, she slashed her wand upwards, curses blasting into walls, barrels, etc… trying to land a hit on the slippery man. 

They were attracting a crowd. She didn’t care.

"Do me a favor," she spat as he ducked behind a wall to evade her curses. "Get fucked."

"You will pay for this, little girl." Donovan sneered, eyes darting back and forth. His grip on his wand tightened, before she was forced to duck to the side to avoid the curse flying at her throat. Preparing to cast another curse, she realized too late that it was a distraction, and looked up just in time to see him Disapparating away. 

Dammit. 

Scowling, she got herself back to her feet and brushed dust off her clothes, smoothing out her hair. Adrenaline still pumped through her veins. "Ran away like a coward," she murmured, slipping her wand into its holster. "Of course."

Checking to make sure she's not injured in any way, her shoulders straightened, sending the onlookers glares as she headed out of the alley. 

She should talk to Summer about this encounter.

After returning back to Hogwarts, Rebecca fiddled with her tie, then set off, a new mission in mind. Find Summer. It should be lunch right now. Class is not in session. She should have time to find Summer and talk about her damn cousin.

It was easy to spot Summer. She, as typical of her, was in the center of a group of friends at one of the dining tables in the great hall. They were all laughing at something one of them had said and just having a good time. The air around her seemed bright and sunny and her eyes twinkled. 

Rebecca faltered in her steps.

For a moment, she forgot how popular Summer is. 

Curse of being one of Summer’s close friends; you forget her other sides too. 

She held back a grimace, hands curling around her bag strap. Regardless, she shook it off, and marched over, ignoring the quiet whispers as she passed by. 

Summer seemed to be too caught up in the conversation (and the cute boy across the table) to notice her entrance into the packed Great Hall nor the way she pushed past the students. As Rebecca reached out and touched Summer’s shoulder, she noticed the way Summer’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise once she turned around. She could guess why. All her friends know she hates crowds. But she’ll understand in a minute.

"Hey Sum? Mind if I pull you away for a second? I’d like to talk about the assignment Professor Flitwick handed out."

Her voice was quiet and straight to the point, the glint in her eyes telling her that it was more than a simple Charms assignment. Talk about something boring. She wasn’t going to announce out-loud to an entire hall of very nosy students that they needed to talk about pureblood politics. 

Something dark crossed Summer's gaze but it was gone a moment later. She nodded. "Sure! I'd love to do some Charmswork with you." Standing up, she gave a bright smile to her friends. "Catch you guys later. Make sure I get my bag in class." She winked at the cute boy and flounced out of the Great Hall, hair bouncing behind her. Rolling her eyes, Rebecca followed her.

The moment they were out of sight of the other students, Summer’s smile fell. The serious Selwyn was peeking through. "Is there an empty classroom nearby? Or the Artifact Room available?"

Rebecca tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “An empty classroom is far safer, and closer. There’s a chance Ben is there hiding away.” She threw her a look. “Come on,” she said, making her way to one of the empty classrooms.

"He is always hiding in there lately," she murmured behind her as they walked. 

They found an empty classroom with no one inside and quickly entered. Summer flicked her wrists. Two spells slammed into the door at once. One went to the doorknob, and one covered the door. An advanced locking charm and Muffliato. Upon seeing this, Rebecca relaxed, her cold exterior crumbling into a tired grimace. No one can overhear now. 

Summer turned to her with a frown. "What is the pureblood business that's so dire?"

Rebecca started fiddling with her sleeve, needing something to fidget with while discussing this. “I ran into your cousin while fetching some things from Diagon Alley. Dragged me into Knockturn Alley and held a wand to my throat. Was a rather interesting first meeting.”

All warmth vanished from Summer’s expression, being replaced by seriousness."What? Donovan?" She turned away, lips pursed. She stayed silent for a while, before speaking. "What did he want?" Summer’s voice was flat and calm, but Rebecca could tell she was struggling to keep some semblance of a mask up.

She pretended not to notice. God knows she won't appreciate it if someone pointed out her own mask is fading. Rebecca tugged at her sleeves. "He wanted me to help him bring you down a few pegs," she grimaced. "Threatened to snap my neck if I didn't obey too. I just told him there were conflicting interests so he'd think you bought my loyalty and got away. I didn't want to give him ammo." Her fingers twisted at the fabric. "He underestimated me too much. Pretty sure that's the only reason I managed to get the upper hand."

Summer grits her teeth, looking so strikingly like her cousin for a moment that it made Rebecca’s eyebrows shot up. "He's clever. But hardly observant. And his ego clouds his judgment." Her back straightens and she crosses her arms. "I'm so sorry he did that. This is not good. Not good at all." She starts pacing. "That worries me that he knows you're connected to me."

Rebecca said nothing about the flash between the two cousins, "I can see that,” she said dryly. "The look on his face when I headbutted him told me everything.” She lowered her gaze to her sleeves, rolling them up and back down her arm. "It’s fine. I handled myself just fine. And... that worried me too, I gotta admit. I had no idea where he heard that piece of information. I couldn’t let him see that though.” 

Her lips twisted into a frown. There was no way Rodolfo would tell him about her assignment, right? So how did he find out?

"Hmph. He hasn't reared his head up in years until this past summer and now he attacks one of my friends. Jerk. What does he want?" Summer’s hand reached up and started twisting the ring on her right hand. Rebecca recognized it as the Selwyn signet ring Summer always wears. "He's a jealous brat. Can't let anything be." Her knuckles go white. "I should've been there to deal with him. If he's got a problem, he should come directly to me. Ugh, this is going to worry Grandda. He's going to become more protective again if he finds out."

Better me than you. 

She shook off the morbid thought, her lips twisting into a frown even as her eyes flickered to Summer’s ring. Rodolfo already has her to keep on eye on Summer, but a part of her wonders if he thinks she’s enough. What would he do once he hears this?

Her eyes soften with sympathy. "At least it forces him to keep an eye out. Donovan mentioned paying me more than you if I do what he says. I don’t know what he meant but it’s probably from the Selwyn treasury. I don’t like this, Sum.”

"Sounds like he's crawling back to try and steal claim to being heir of Selwyn. He wants to rejoin noble society and knows he can't do that without money and a title and recognition. Therefore, I'm a threat to him." Summer sighs and rolls her shoulders back, her mask slipping firmly in place. "Thanks for letting me know. I am not looking forward to letting Grandda know. Unless he already knows. That man has such an extensive information system."

She looked tired, grudgingly accepting more weight and worry on her shoulders. It's what came with being a Selwyn. And the heir.

Rebecca pursed her lips, not liking what Summer said. Pureblood politics. So exhausting. "You’re welcome.” She gave her a tight smile. "He probably does. There were many eyes watching us in Knockturn when we were dueling, brief as it is. Surely, one of them is connected to him, and recognized Donovan.”

She didn’t mention one of those eyes was her.

"Hmph. I'll likely be getting a letter from him shortly. More warning to be careful. He better not get the idea to send the house-elves to watch me. I'm already under his thumb, Hogwarts is where I'm free from his eye." She looked back with a faint smile. "Sorry for rambling. This is just... frustrating. You're a good friend, Bex."

Ouch, the irony in Summer’s words. Even if she did come to care for Summer, the fact that she was hired to watch over Summer still applies. Good friend Bex indeed. Rebecca kept her guilty thoughts to herself and gave her a warm smile.

"It’s fine. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if I had a cousin like Donovan.” Velia does not count. She’s another matter entirely. "And not a problem. Anything for a friend." 

At least those words are true.

"All pureblood politics are messy. Donovan is just part of the package. Yours aren't any easier." She nodded. "Same to you."

Rebecca bit her lip. She’s not wrong. Dealing with the Caldwells is tiring. Including her uncle and Velia. Especially them. 

She chose not to say anything to that and checked the time. “Well we better get ready for our next class. I’ll see you later?" She might have some spare time to (ugh) write Rodolfo a letter.

"Yes, I'll see you later." Summer slips her mask back on, bright smile and all.

She gave her another smile, then took it as her turn to put on her own mask, and the lines on her face smooth over into a cold look. Carefully unlocking the door, she made her way out and headed to her next class. She can hear Summer doing the same. 

Pureblood politics... 

[cormorantgospel]

We’ll never be those kids again

Canon-divergent AU of Harry’s fifth, sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. In fifth year, some of Harry’s self-destructive behaviour is channelled into hooking up with Malfoy, and this is enough to tip the scales and make Draco accept Dumbledore’s offer and desert the Death Eaters. Part 1, Part 2

-

This is how the last year of the second wizarding war passes: before the summer has ended, the Ministry falls to the Death Eaters, and in the same breath, so does Hogwarts. There are puppets put in place; the school and the government keep running under the thinnest veneer of normalcy, but it takes more effort to pretend now. Pretending is a luxury reserved for those who do not feel the looming closeness of September and mandatory Hogwarts attendance as a death sentence. Those who do not have to decide between trying to flee abroad and going underground. Those who do not have to wonder which of their friends they can still trust if they reach out.

-

It’s the last year of the war and Ginny is the only Weasley who returns to Hogwarts. By the time she boards the train, she has not heard from Harry, Ron or Hermione since the wedding, where they disappeared. She keeps quiet when people speculate about their disappearance. People still ask her about Harry. She was popular before, but this year her popularity is different. The younger students all know her name for some reason. She notices the way people glance her way during quiet common room conversations, when the names of the muggleborn students who haven’t returned are mentioned, when people dare to complain about Snape or the Carrows. For a while she thinks it’s because they want her to be Harry. If he had been here, they would all be looking to him, not her. It’s just that some of his infamy has rubbed off on her.

It’s Luna who tells her otherwise, in the greenhouses, during Herbology.

“You don’t look scared,” she says. “Everyone can tell.”

“That’s bullshit,” she says. “Of course I’m scared.”

Luna just hums.

“But not of the Carrows. Not of Snape.”

Ginny shrugs.

“They’re just bullies.”

“Most people are scared of bullies.”

The first part of the school year they spend their free time in the seventh-year boys’ dormitories. You never know who’s listening in the common room or the library. They’re a mixed group, some sixth-years, some seventh-years. Of course, it’s bothersome because they can’t invite their friends from other houses. Really, that’s all the conversation is at first – all of them wondering aloud if there would be a better place to hang out. It’s Dean who brings up the Room of Requirement. It’s Neville who mentions Dumbledore’s Army, who brings out the galleon as if he’s embarrassed to still have it.

“Other people might have kept theirs too,” he says with a shrug.

That’s all it is at first. A small group of Gryffindors who activate the galleons, just to see if Hermione’s protean charm still works. Who wait in silence in the Room of Requirement to see if anyone will show up. That’s all it is at first, but it quickly becomes something more.

Outside the walls of the castle, a war is raging. Inside, everything is the same. There is the sorting and house points and quidditch games. In so many ways, Voldemort is still the scared, abandoned child who found a home there, just as Harry did, and he cradles the traditions of the old school, guards them out of reverence and nostalgia, having forgotten long ago that these traditions are not the things that made Hogwarts a home.

There is a war outside the walls of the castle, and one inside it too. There may be classes and homework and feasts, but there is no safety there. It is not a home. The children learn magic, but mostly they learn to hide, to become invisible, to cast silencing charms on their beds and cry only when no one is there to see. It is, once again, a place where detentions leave scars. Where Luna squeezes Ginny’s hand under the table when Amycus Carrow’s vicious eyes fall on her and she is called to the front of the class. A girl in red and gold and a girl in silver and green face each other in front of their classmates, but only one raises her wand. She hesitates, but only for a moment. Ginny waits, and she is quiet and she is brave, and she might not be afraid of bullies, but she is afraid of the pain, because it is not the first time she has done this. They have Dark Arts once a week. The Carrows have favourite targets, and she has made sure she is one of them. She can feel her heart like a panicked bird in her chest. She wants to run. She wants to raise her wand to defend herself. She doesn’t.

There are more members of Dumbledore’s army than just Luna in this class. They all sit quietly and watch as Ginny drops to the floor. Their war is a quiet one. There is nothing stoic about the way she writhes on the floor or the way she screams. The Slytherin girl lowers her wand quick. She is praised by her teacher. Ginny slowly gets to her feet and both students take their seats. Another pair is called on.

Luna puts her arm around Ginny’s waist when they leave class. The Slytherin girl locks herself in a bathroom stall and waits for her hands to stop shaking.

-

There is a small group of students who meet in the Room of Requirement, and as the year goes on, it grows bigger. Luna leaves stacks of the Quibbler in there. Neville talks quietly with the younger students, though Ginny can’t imagine what he tells them. He brings murtlap essence and willow bark for the ones who get hurt. Ginny sometimes teaches hexes, or shield spells, but less and less often as the year goes on. You can’t fight Death Eaters with bat bogey hexes, or at least, you can’t when they’re running your school and your government. She doesn’t want anyone to get hurt because they tried to fight when they should have complied.

“We’re not exactly a defence club this time,” she tells Neville the first time they stay in the room overnight.

It’s late, but neither of them can sleep. Neville looks at the hammocks that appeared as soon as they needed them, for the students who can’t go back to their common rooms anymore.

“No, I guess not,” he says.

“We’re barely even a resistance movement. And we’re definitely not an army.”

“Does that bother you?”

She hesitates. She’s so tired her bones ache.

“I don’t know,” she says finally. “I just hate that we can’t do anything.”

“We are doing something.”

And they are, she supposes. Refusing to participate in the brutality of Dark Arts lessons. Smuggling as many copies of the Quibbler into the school as possible. Showing the younger students the secret passages to get around the castle unseen. They’ve made a safe place in the Room of Requirement for the ones who need to hide for a while. They disrupt the daily life at Hogwarts as much as possible, sabotaging hallways and classrooms whenever and however they can. They have managed to start fires during three “muggle studies” lessons so far. It just feels so small. She sighs. “I know,” she says. “But I want to fight. I want to… I want to fucking kill them.”

Neville nods solemnly.

“Yeah”, he says. “Me too.”

-

There’s always at least one of them staying in the Room of Requirement overnight. When it’s just her alone, she lies awake until the early hours, listening to the breathing and the restless sleep of their refugees and their soldiers. When Luna is there, she crawls into Ginny’s bed without asking and puts her stick-thin arms around her. She seems so fragile, with her odd, airy speech, her easy smiles and her wide eyes, but she isn’t. Ginny used to put herself between Luna and her bullies, tell them to piss off when Luna couldn’t. She has never been scared of bullies, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t scared. And she probably wouldn’t be able to explain it to anyone if they asked, but she knows that somehow, this, Luna climbing into her bed and holding her until they both fall asleep, is the same thing. A way of letting someone else borrow your strength.

It’s not like people don’t know. It’s not like they don’t see the way her and Luna touch each other’s hands and hair and shoulders. She waits for one of them to bring up Harry, all her angry arguments lined up in her throat, but no one ever does. She almost wants them to, just so she would get to make her case out loud.

She does feel bad. She misses him so much. She is so scared for him. That doesn’t mean she isn’t angry with him too. For breaking up with her. For leaving her behind. For taking Ron and Hermione with him, but not her. For the way he was watching Draco Malfoy over the summer.

-

This is how the last year of the wizarding war passes for the kids who have to end it: They spend the year roaming around the English countryside in an old, ratty tent, following up on vague clues, chasing gut feelings. They fight too much and bicker when they aren’t fighting, and none of it feels very heroic.

Harry lies awake too many nights, trying to sleep and giving up on sleeping, staring into the dark instead, trying to make himself believe that this is going to work. And sometimes he’ll pull out the marauder’s map and look at Ginny’s dot in the girls’ dormitory, or feel his heart beat fast and hard in his chest when she walks the hallways long after dark. Sometimes, more and more often as the weeks go on, her dot disappears, even at night. He knows that means she’s in the Room of Requirement, but it still leaves him feeling sick with nerves. And it’s so fucking unfair that Ron thinks Harry doesn’t have anyone to worry about.

Sometimes his mind slips, and he realizes he’s been watching the wrong common room, following the winding corridors of the dungeons instead of the towers, looking for a name that he knows isn’t there. Old habits die hard and all that. When he catches himself at it, he tucks the map away and feels guilty.

-

(The rest of this story will be uploaded to AO3, with updates every Sunday.)

[crimson-snowfall]

Ikemen Vampire: Language of Flowers - Vlad

Flower: Peach/Peach Blossom

Meaning/Symbolism: Your qualities, like your charms, are unequalled (Peach) / I am your captive (Peach Blossom)

Word Count: 1108

Vlad eyed you with curiosity as you peacefully slept on his lap. As per your request, he had taken you to the field of roses he often spoke fondly of, and your reaction upon taking in the iconic view made it worth his while.

After carefully removing the thorns from the rose he had been working on ever since you fell asleep, he leisurely tucked it behind your ear, a little smile forming on his lips as he did so.

How did things come to this, Vlad genuinely wondered. In all the centuries he’s lived, never once has he met a human who is resistant to a pureblood’s thrall, so having you around had been rather stimulating. It made him a little sad thinking that you would eventually return to your time, for he has grown to care about you as an object of his interest and would rather refrain from sabotaging your return once again, because he’d rather not lose you to the void of space-time.

What Vlad had not been expecting though, was that you would actually come to him. He didn’t knew when you started to develop feelings for him– and at first he simply accepted because he thought it would be a rather entertaining way to torment Comte who was evidently opposed to the idea of you staying with him.

Vlad welcomed you with open arms with the intention of establishing ownership over the object of his interest, but even after turning you into a vampire, you remained immune to his powers. Vlad also thought that turning you into a vampire may not be the wisest decision he’s made in centuries, for in the very instance he had known the taste of your blood, he felt himself spiraling into the depths of his greatest addiction. You had him addicted so bad to the point that it’s almost shameless for a pureblood vampire, who in the vampire society are supposed to be exemplars of restraint.

Indeed, in his needless attempts to control you, he had been the one who had fallen under you.

To begin with, it’s not like Vlad needed to bind you– you willingly belonged to him. It didn’t even matter if his feelings towards you weren’t that of love, just him allowing you to be there for him was enough for you. There’s simply no end to how much think the world of him, and you found perfection even in his imperfections-- you’re absolutely smitten. In your eyes, no one can possibly ever hope to compare to Vlad, and you are devoted to him in every sense you could think of, so his desperation to have you under his spell came off as particularly strange to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Vlad has indeed fallen for you not long ago, but the pureblood has yet to completely come into terms with the fact that he had actually fallen in love. So he masquerades it under the guise of wanting to subjugate you simply for his entertainment, when in reality he would probably end the world should he succeed… because then your love for him wouldn’t feel as genuine as it is now.

When your eyelids finally fluttered open, you found yourself under Vlad’s loving gaze– a look that honestly suited him better than the look of a fallen angel hell-bent on delivering his definition of a peaceful world, but you didn’t mind because that’s also one of his charms. 

“Had a nice nap?”

“Yes, my lor-”

“I believe I have told you not to call me that when it’s just the two of us,” Vlad promptly reminded you, caressing your cheeks. Your skin flushed under his touch.

“Vlad…” His name escaped your lips in a soft whisper.

The pureblood smirked in approval, before pulling you up to straddle on his lap. You feel like you could lose yourself forever in the tenderness of his gaze that’s reserved for you alone. You dared cup his cheeks with your hands and press a kiss on his lips, which he returned just as gently, before pulling you down with him as he laid on the field of roses.

“I have a question for you,” Vlad spoke as he reached out beside him to take another rose, snapping the stem into a more manageable length before his fingers began their work on removing the thorns.

“What is it?”

Without meeting your curious gaze, the question came out of his lips. “Just why do you adore me so, dragă mea?”

You weren’t expecting him to ask that of all questions he could’ve possibly asked that moment, so it took you a while to collect your thoughts. “There are a lot of reasons, Vlad. But if you’ll ask me how did I first come to admire you… maybe it’s because I wanted to see the future you want for this world.”

Your response caught him off guard, causing his fingers to slip, a fresh cut now running along its tip. Your pupils dilated as you were assaulted by the sweet, intoxicating scent of your beloved’s blood.

“You don’t think it’s a horrible thing to do?”

“N-no. Not at all. The future I c-came from was already heading t-towards the dystopia y-you spoke of.”

A devious smile graced Vlad’s handsome features as he listened to your voice falter, that he intentionally pricked another finger with the thorns. “But the other purebloods believe it’s best not to interfere.”

Your fangs started to ache for him. “I-I think… it’s a n-noble thing to w-want to take a-action on thi— n-no, y-you mustn’t!” You watched in horror as Vlad pricked a third finger, before letting go of the rose at your sudden interjection. He offered you his now bloodied fingers, a smug grin on his face.

“I mustn’t what? Tell me, dragă mea.” But it’s too late and the act has been done, and now you’re lustfully sucking on his fingers, eyes clouded with desire as the mischievous act fueled your arousal. With his free hand, he tugged on the collar of his shirt, exposing your favorite spot where his neck meets his shoulders.

You greedily accepted this invitation and in no time your fangs were embedded in that sweet spot, eliciting deep groans of pleasure from Vlad. In the frenzied evening that ensued, Vlad carved into your body the unparalleled zenith of what it meant to be his dearly beloved, and in those moments, you just knew.

No matter what comes out of the future Vlad had coveted for this world, you’ll never regret a single thing about captivating his heart, and you’ll gladly burn with him should the worst ever happens.

“Dragă mea” means “my darling” in Romanian (yea that’s where the historical Vlad came from) and yea... I think it’s a pureblood thing to call their beloved “my darling” kek

In case you’re wondering why Vlad gets two flowers...I was actually bamboozled that they’d include Peach on that list when it’s not actually a flower wow such fake news bruh it says Language of Flowers not Language of Fruits... or maybe I’m just a dumdum and there’s actually a Peach flower and it ain’t the same thing as Peach Blossom... oh well but then it fits so yea might as well

This concludes the Ikemen Vampire - Language of Flowers series and if you’re wondering why there isn’t any for Charles and Faust, let’s just say that I wrote Vlad’s on the last minute because I love him and this one wasn’t actually planned... so yea think of it as a bonus. Even if I wanted to write one for the other two I just really don’t know them that much and my interest ain’t just there yet... but since both of them are February babies I may consider writing one for them next year for their birthdays :3

More on this series:  [[Napoleon]] [[Mozart]] [[Leonardo]] [[Arthur]] [[Vincent]]  [[Theodorus]] [[Isaac]] [[Dazai]] [[Jean]] [[William]] [[Comte de Saint Germain]] [[Sebastian]] 

[misskinaiya]

Draco Malfoy and Healing

Okay okay think this:

(Hogwarts sixth year)

Draco Malfoy entered the Room of Hidden Things fully intent on working on the broken Vanishing Cabinet like usual but found an “intruder” in the Room. On a settee near a stack of books just a few feet away from the Cabinet sat a raven-haired witch with her face buried in a book. 

She snapped to attention when the door closed noisily behind Draco. Despite standing with her back rod-straight, she still looked tiny to him. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Reading.” She waved the book she was holding, looking sheepish at being caught and by a prefect at that. “Is the Room off-limits?”

“How did you find this Room?” Draco asked a question of his own instead, because he didn’t really know what the answer to her question was. He supposed it wasn’t, since he’s been going there for months and no one bothered to stop him.

“I, uh, found it one time while exploring the castle. The books here aren’t available in the library so I go every now and then to read. What about you?”

He forced himself not to react to that. Of course she was only there for the books. She was a Ravenclaw witch in his year, and they shared Arithmancy, Charms, and Herbology classes before N.E.W.T level. They never really talked before but she was familiar enough to him. She never caused trouble in the past and he hoped she wasn’t in the mood to start doing so now.

Draco ignored the churning in his stomach and said, “Here to read as well.” It wasn’t technically a lie. He read there sometimes, referring to old tomes for mending charms when he felt stuck at his assignment, which he often did.

He approached her slowly, plucking a random book he had already scanned through before from the stack with the intent to wait until she left before doing what he really was there for. 

She scooted over to make space for him to sit on. Draco flipped to a page on mending furniture and made himself comfortable before pretending to be absorbed in what he was reading. He was considering using the Imperius Curse to make her leave and wiping her memories of the Room when she suddenly leaned towards him to check on what he was reading.

Draco’s entire body tensed and he fought every instinct to move away and turn his wand on her. “Hey! Mending charms. What do you need those for?”

He waited for the witch to sit back before answering. “Vince keeps on accidentally breaking stuff in our room.” He said and she laughed at the ridiculous image of Vincent Crabbe knocking things over anywhere he went.

“I read about Healing, mostly. They have a lot of books here about it! You might find some handy. Did you know you could use Healing spells to mend objects as well? Apparently, Magic views our bodies just like everyday objects.”

His head snapped towards her, mouth gaping unconsciously. His mind raced with the possibilities. “I know right? It’s incredible. Unfortunately, people would only have access to Healing spells if they took formal training to become a Healer. But who knew this Room would have a stack of Healing books?” She gushed, unbeknownst to what she just did. Draco almost felt bad for her. Almost.

When the witch finally moved to leave the Room, Draco stood to fake leaving as well. Once she was gone, he immediately went back inside and put wards around the Vanishing Cabinet, making sure to keep her away from its vicinity. He sought out the books she was talking about and duplicated them before storing them near the Cabinet for his future reference.

-

Draco’s first breakthrough since he started working on the assignment happened in late January. It worked! All the Healing spells were effective in some ways and they held permanently, unlike the charms he used to cast. He had to use a bunch of them together at a time to improve the Cabinet’s condition and it would still take time to perfect its functions but there would be sure progress from then on.

He mostly stayed in the Room, skipping his classes entirely as he obsessed over the Cabinet and ignored the Ravenclaw witch who visited the Room every two weeks and stayed for a few hours before leaving again. Draco would never acknowledge it out loud but the times she was there with him were comforting. Greg and Vince guarded the Room outside for Draco but having someone in the Room with him, even when the witch was oblivious to her company thanks to the wards he put in place to hide his presence, ebbed the loneliness he was constantly feeling.

It was a Friday morning sometime in February when the Ravenclaw witch next met Draco in the Room of Hidden Things. As Draco entered the Room, she immediately looked up and beamed at him. “Draco! I thought you’d be here.”

He felt disconcerted. Why was she here at this time? She only visited on Wednesday afternoons. He sighed to himself, resolving to spend a few hours unproductively with her in the Room. He supposed he could take a rest, he’s been working relentlessly for weeks after all.

It took no more than a few minutes for Draco to fall asleep against one arm of the settee. The witch beside him smiled adoringly at his sleeping figure. Why isn’t he attending classes? Why isn’t he taking meals in the Great Hall? Why does he look so exhausted? She wanted to ask but instead, she let him sleep. He looked like he really needed it. She’d ask him some other time.

Draco woke up to someone gently prodding his arm. “Hey, it’s time for lunch. And we have double Potions right after. Come on!” He couldn't believe he fell asleep! He was too disoriented to stop her from pulling him down to the Great Hall. He ignored the two Polyjuiced girls outside the Room and relished in the feeling of someone holding his arm without the intent to hurt him.

It was the first time in weeks that the student body saw Draco Malfoy in the Great Hall. It was also the first time in weeks that Theodore Nott had a partner in Potions.

-

“You weren’t at Charms and Arithmancy this morning.” The raven-haired witch said as a greeting. She found Draco holed up in the Room again that Monday afternoon.

Draco ignored her. He went to class for two straight weeks before disappearing again. It was now a few weeks into spring and he had been avoiding her. This was more important, he thought. He couldn’t slack off when his mother was trapped in their own home with that monster. No one was there to protect her from harm and Draco could only go home once he was done with this.

“What’s going on with you?” His skin had gone ever paler, how that was possible was beyond her. He lost a significant amount of weight and he really looked like he could use some sleep. Maybe a ton.

She tried not to let the sting of being ignored get to her. Instead, she sat beside Draco in her usual spot and picked a random book from the stack. It was a book on Magical genealogy. When she sneaked a glance in Draco’s direction, she found him fast asleep. This time, her smile was sad. She wondered which ones of all the rumors going around were true, if there were even any. She wondered if her questions would ever get the answers from him. She wondered if they were at least friends now.

-

One Wednesday afternoon, she brought sandwiches from lunch with her. She did so because she had no plans of going down to dinner later and not because they were for Draco because she didn’t see him at lunch. She would wait in the Room until Draco showed up. She didn’t know why she wanted to see him, only that it was imperative that she did.

She fell asleep an hour into the book she had chosen to read and when she woke up, Draco was there munching on a sandwich she brought. She definitely did not feel delighted at the sight of him. Most definitely not.

“Those are mine.” She said, in exchange for greeting (for the nth time) because she didn’t know whether a hi or hello would do for them.

“Not anymore.” He took a big bite and chewed with exaggeration. She playfully rolled her eyes at him and forced herself to read instead of watching him eat.

She wondered when he got there and why she didn’t wake up because she was a light sleeper and the door would surely rouse her if anybody came into the Room. She wondered if Draco was submitting his requirements through his friends from Slytherin because there was no way he was not getting in trouble with all the skipping he’s been doing. She wondered if he missed flying and training and playing Quidditch because she never saw him out in the field anymore. She voiced none of these because she had learned not to ask questions and just enjoyed his company.

-

Draco never acknowledged her outside of the Room of Hidden Things before so it was a surprise for her when he smiled at her as they both entered the Quidditch field to watch the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw match. It had been brief and small so she wondered if she hallucinated the moment, barely paying attention to the game as she stared across the field to where the Slytherin prefect stood from one of the Slytherin stands.

The previous days were anxiety-ridden with rumors of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter having a duel in a bathroom, with Draco Malfoy being seriously injured, with Harry Potter being covered in blood. The small witch never really bothered with the rumors before because most of them were far from the truth but she couldn’t stop herself from worrying anyway.

She never saw Draco in the Room anymore. He stopped attending classes for months now. The few times he ate at the Great Hall, he was always surrounded by his own friends that she found no window to approach him. So she was grateful for whatever spirits were out there for this opportunity to see him. She couldn’t even be bothered with the great loss their House suffered that day.

-

At the end of June, Albus Dumbledore died and before she even fully comprehended the news, her parents were already at Hogwarts fetching her. They stayed in Switzerland the entire summer to get away from the War.

It wasn’t until seventh year started and they were mandated to go back to school that she heard the full story from Padma Patil.

Draco Malfoy was recruited as a Death Eater before their sixth year.

Draco Malfoy attempted to assassinate Albus Dumbledore.

Draco Malfoy let Death Eaters into Hogwarts through a Vanishing Cabinet in the castle.

Severus Snape was actually a Death Eater and he killed Dumbledore in cold blood.

Draco Malfoy was now Head Boy alongside Pansy Parkinson, who was appointed Head Girl. Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass were appointed as Prefects as well. It was like the Inquisitorial Squad all over again.

As the Welcoming Feast went on, she thought back to all the times she spent with Draco Malfoy in the Room of Hidden Things. She thought about the broken cabinet near the stack of books where she always stayed. She thought about Draco’s interest in mending charms and the glint in his eyes when she talked about Healing magic. She thought about the times Draco fell shortly asleep as he lounged on his side of the settee. She thought about the missed meals and the skipped classes.

She found herself staring straight at Draco Malfoy from across their tables and her eyes stung with unshed tears as questions flooded her mind.

She voiced none of those either.

(Draco was ready to answer her questions now.)

She never went to the Room of Hidden Things anymore.

(Draco waited for her for months before finally giving up.)

She spent all of her free time locked up in her dormitory room until Padma Patil told her about Dumbledore’s Army. She joined them to spite him. She didn’t even know if he would care. She joined them anyway.

(Draco Malfoy wanted to talk to her but he never saw an opening. She was always with her friends when he saw her. He threw the worst fit in recorded history in the privacy of the Slytherin common room when he found out about her involvement with the D.A. 

CRAZY WITCH! WHAT WAS SHE THINKING!? JOINING THE RESISTANCE!

He gave no explanation to his friends.)

Now, she went to the Room of Requirements to train with the rest of the DA. She used her knowledge on Healing to tend to their wounds acquired from training or beatings from the Carrows.

(Draco knew each and every student affiliated with the DA. He tried to keep them out of trouble as much as his position as Head Boy allowed.

His friends have started to notice something was going on. They didn’t ask about it though. They have learned not to ask from last year.)

She stepped up when Luna disappeared and taught them to use ordinary spells as offensive or defensive spells, however they wanted to see it. Severing spell, reductor spell, exploding spell, fire-making spell. Spells with short incantations that could be used in battle to protect one’s self.

(Draco asked his personal elf, Daffy, to take care of Luna Lovegood and Garrick Ollivander while they stayed prisoner at Malfoy Manor.

His friends have caught on and started to use their positions as well to keep students out of trouble, especially those who were part of the D.A. They still didn’t ask questions, though.)

(Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe pretended to enjoy the Cruciatus Curse to get the assignments of performing them on students in detention. They did so because it was better that they did it than the Carrows.)

(Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode asked the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team to behave around other players and to not start fights with them.)

(Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, and Pansy Parkinson sometimes turned a blind-eye on students breaking minor rules and only docked points when the situation was more serious, never giving them detention.)

She wondered if there will come a day that she’ll have to fight him herself.

(Draco Malfoy wondered if he could still fix things with his Ravenclaw witch.)

-

The day she dreaded most came when Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts one evening in May.

She lost count of how many she had fought, never stopping to think of who could be the people behind those masks. Her strategy was to injure her opponent’s wand hand so they couldn’t use spells against her anymore. Most of the time, she sliced their arms open. A few times, she ended up blasting their hands. And when she saw a flash of green light and Oliver Rivers, a fellow Ravenclaw, went down, she set the Death Eater responsible for it on fire.

She felt numb. She wondered if she’d survive the night.

-

When the Battle paused, she helped get the fallen bodies inside the Great Hall. 

She wondered where Draco Malfoy was, whether he was safely away from the Battle or was he fighting for the other side.

(Draco hid in the Dungeons. He had no wand so he couldn’t fight. He hoped his witch was safe as he waited for the Battle to be finally over. Saint Potter better not fuck up.)

-

When she saw Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy screaming for their son in the midst of battle without wands in their hands, she couldn’t help but send protective shields their way. That was it. She had actually lost her mind. Protecting the Malfoys? Death Eaters? She wanted to laugh.

And when it was all finally over, she let herself drink a cold glass of water and heal the wounds she got from everything that happened that night. She was about to find a flat surface to sleep on when her eyes landed on him. He was standing between his parents, and they all looked out of place.

As she walked towards them, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. 

She stopped in front of him and took her time in checking his condition. His clothes were full of dust and rubble and were torn in some places. Fortunately, he sustained no other injury aside from the mild abrasions on his face and his split lip.

(Draco waited in bated breath. She looked alright, exhausted, but alright. He wanted to cry because the three most important people to him were all in one place.)

He was already staring at her when she met his eyes. Swallowing thickly, she said, “I can heal your wounds.” She raised her wand and gestured towards his face. At his nod of assent, she set to work.

(He wondered if this was her way of showing forgiveness. Should he even consider that? Was he worthy? He thought not, but his witch stayed with him last year despite all the rumors going around, and maybe if he did one thing right, she might give him a chance?)

All was going well. She was entirely focused on his injuries. All was well. Until he placed a (warm) hand on the small of her back and said, “I’m sorry.”

(Father once told him that if he ever made his Mother upset, just hug her and apologize. His Mother, despite her outward demeanor, loved receiving hugs. He hoped his witch did too.)

She had just finished tending to the last of his wounds when he pulled her against him and caged her in his arms. She wanted to feel angry. She wanted to lash out for all the times he never answered her questions. But he was here now, here in Hogwarts, and they weren’t running, so that had to mean something, right?

Her eyes darted nervously to his parents. They stood to the side and watched on silently. Lucius Malfoy tried and failed to keep a straight face and Narcissa Malfoy’s eyebrows were twitching.

Her face flushed an angry red in mortification. She was about to pull away when Draco stepped back himself but kept an arm around her as he faced towards his parents, steering her in the same direction.

“Father, Mother, this is Sue Li.” A voice was screaming in her head to run, flee, escape from there because she had no idea what was happening right now. She didn’t know what to feel right now! There was a lump in her throat and her chest felt like it was seconds away from exploding. “I wouldn’t be here right now if not for her.”

Susanna Li was officially losing her mind. (And Draco was enjoying every second of it.)

She wondered if she could get away with it if she hexed his balls off right now. (Draco wondered if he was going too fast.)

“A pleasure to meet you, miss Li.” Lucius Malfoy greeted.

“Mister Malfoy, Missus Malfoy,” she croaked, “I’m glad the both of you are okay.”

“Of course we would be, you made sure of that, did you not?” Sue suddenly felt woozy, praying for the ground to swallow her whole.

Narcissa Malfoy had not just said that. There was no way they could have known it was her. “Draco, darling, we wouldn’t be here now as you are if not for your friend.”

“I—” She tried, she really did, to think of anything to refute her claim, but Sue was more exhausted than she thought she was (or really, she was just distracted by the arm still wrapped around her) because words failed her.

“Perhaps it’s best that we sit.” Draco pulled her towards a bench, taking a seat before pulling her on his lap.

Narcissa and Lucius paid them no heed and instead, helped themselves with food from the table nearby. As she tried to fight against Draco, squirming and glaring at him, Sue wondered if this was all a dream.

But Draco was here, with her, and he was smiling, and Sue thought nothing else mattered in that moment. So she finally stopped fighting, because this was what she had always been waiting for, for the War to be over, and for them to finally be allowed to enjoy this, whatever this is, and leaned against Draco, burying her face in the crook of his neck before wrapping her arms around him, because finally, finally, she could do this and not have to worry about the consequences anymore.

(Draco wondered if this was a dream, and if it was, he hoped he never had to wake up.)

[end.]

-

Hey hey hey I don’t know where this came from either! AHAHAHA

(Fic Masterlist)

[helenalikesbtsnow]

Sleep by Helena_Hathaway (me)

Summary: Jimin interrupts him to say, “It’s not impatience, Yoongi, there’s a deadline. You’ve got until you’re twenty-one before you go to sleep for all eternity! If I don’t find the love of your life before then, we’re all fucked! Pairing: Yoonseok/Sope Words: 5k Warnings: None Links: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827596

“Royal matchmaker this, royal matchmaker that, honestly, at this point, I just feel like glorified furniture,” Jimin says.

“Hey, you know, it could be worse,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Worse than what? This was supposed to be like, a five-month gig! It was just supposed to be ‘oh find the Prince a wife and then here’s some money’ but nooo!” Jimin says, his voice sounds angry, but Yoongi knows that he isn’t really. His official title may be ‘royal matchmaker,’ but Jimin has been his friend since he showed up to town four years ago. Four years. Wow. That’s a lot of years of Yoongi rejecting every girl to cross his path.

It’s not so much rejection as Yoongi just knows they’re not the one. How could they be? He’s sure he’ll know it when the right girl turns up, but he hasn’t met her yet. He knows it’s important, because there are deadlines to consider, but it just hasn’t seemed important enough for him to start being serious about the subject.

Yoongi has Jimin lagging behind him as they stroll through the property, Yoongi assuring both his guards and Jimin that he just wanted some fresh air. He likes it out here, it’s far less stuffy than the palace, which is always a little too warm and smells old. Yoongi’s family have lived in that palace for generations, for so long that there are hundred-year-old paintings hanging up in the hallways of ancestor’s long dead who have Yoongi’s eyes.

He doesn’t have a trajectory, at least he doesn’t think he does, but he does end up somewhere very particular anyway. Yoongi always ends up in the gardens. He likes the way the flowers smell, and the way the flowers look. They’re beautifully arrayed, masterfully pieced together to show off every single color of the rainbow for at least nine months of the year. The flowers that grow in winter are more muted, but just as beautiful, and just as expertly arranged, because the garden is kept in the two most capable hands in the entire kingdom.

Yoongi bites his lip, looking at one particular bushel of flowers near to him when a familiar voice from behind him says, “those are called impatiens.”

The voice belongs to someone that Yoongi has known all his life. He turns to see him, the ever smiling, wonderful Hoseok. Yoongi has known him since they were both little kids, Hoseok’s father was a gardener to this palace long before he was born. Since childhood, Hoseok’s been his closest friend in the world, and probably the only one who doesn’t judge Yoongi for not falling in love. That’s not to say Hoseok isn’t judgmental, because he has made fun of just about everything Yoongi has ever done ever, and Yoongi has threatened to lock him up every single time he does it, but that just makes Hoseok laugh at him harder.

“Hey, Hoseok,” Yoongi smiles back at him. Hoseok’s smile is contagious, absolutely gut-punching. He’s got long, dark brown hair, and eyes the color of the earth he plants his flowers in. It's not in the job description, but Hoseok's probably the most attractive gardener in the world. “Impatience you say?”

“No, I said impatiens, not-”

Jimin interrupts him to say, “It’s not impatience, Yoongi, there’s a deadline. You’ve got until you’re twenty-one before you go to sleep for all eternity! If I don’t find the love of your life before then, we’re all fucked!”

“Why does everyone believe in that silly curse,” Yoongi groans. Truth is, Yoongi knows it’s real. Why wouldn’t it be? People have curses placed on them all the time; it’s just what life is like. But he’s trying to make people worry less about him. He’s still got eight months, it could happen. Princess charming will come waltzing in through the palace doors and Yoongi will hear a chorus of bells. You know, probably.

“We all need some time away from you,” Hoseok says, sighing, “I know I can’t wait to be rid of you for a spell.”

“Exactly!” Yoongi says, “Oh, and Hoseok, you’re fired for that comment.”

“Oh, agony,” Hoseok sighs, raising his arms up in defeat as Yoongi smiles at him. He crouches back down to work on the little patch of soil that he’d been busying at before Yoongi so rudely interrupted him. He’s preparing to put in azaleas because Yoongi said he liked them last summer.

“It’s not funny, Yoongi,” Jimin says. “You’re the only heir to the throne! What do you think happens when it all goes belly up?”

“Well, I imagine you all have a little laugh and find a proper replacement,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “Perhaps Hoseok here. He knows how to grow flowers; surely, he must also know how to manage the socioeconomic divide.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Hoseok nods overdramatically, “Read all about it in the farmer’s almanac.”

“It’s not a joke, you two!” Jimin says, sounding aggravated, “if I don’t find you a wife, you’re basically dead. And also, I don’t get paid.”

“Oh, agony,” Yoongi and Hoseok both say.

~*~*~*~

He and Yoongi are having a staring contest. Neither of them asked if they should have a staring contest, they’ve just been doing it. He supposes that that’s not terribly abnormal for the two of them. Not the staring contest in particular, they just tend to mirror each other. Yoongi blinks first, which makes Hoseok smile a silent victory.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks, though they both know that Yoongi loves Hoseok’s smile and would never complain about it. It’s the greatest smile in the kingdom, he tells him as much constantly. Yoongi is willing to die on those words.

“You know why.”

“I don’t know at all.”

“Sure, Yoongi.”

“I didn’t even know we were having a staring contest.”

“You’re the one who mentioned it,” Hoseok says.

Yoongi scrunches up his face, “damn, I fell into my own trap.”

“Dumbass,” Hoseok says, rolling his eyes.

Yoongi looks around the two of them at the grass. Hoseok had been picking flowers for the entrance hall of the palace at the time that Yoongi stole him away. As always, he’s hiding from his father. Being the future King comes with a lot of responsibilities, but sometimes Yoongi just wants to hide away with his best friend.

“What are those called, anyway?” he asks, pointing at the pink flowers in Hoseok’s hand.

“Camellia,” he responds.

“Those are my new favorite,” Yoongi declares.

“You have a new favorite every other week,” Hoseok responds. “Last week you specifically liked yellow roses.”

“Well, that’s because whichever one you pick are usually the prettiest ones.”

“Oh, how you mock me,” Hoseok says, feigning annoyance.

“Hey, that time I tried to tell you I liked dandelions you threatened to end the royal line, so I’m just trying to stay on your good side,” Yoongi laughs.

“I wish you liked any of those girls as much as you like flowers.”

“Ugh, let’s not talk about this, I get enough of it from Jimin,” Yoongi groans. He’s already met with two girls this afternoon, and he’s worried if he goes back to the castle, there will be a long line of more. He didn’t know that there were that many people in existence. There’s at least a few who have snuck in a few times and think that he doesn’t recognize them. Perhaps there are more who have snuck in that Yoongi genuinely hasn’t recognized.

“You’re running out of time,” Hoseok says.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll meet someone; we’ve still got like six months! It’ll sort itself out.”

“You need to try harder,” Hoseok scolds. “You’re not giving them enough of a chance, dumbass.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t fall in love with someone who’s not my one true love, that’s not exactly going to cut it, is it? The person who kisses me to wake me up has to literally be my soulmate. I’m not saying the curse is real, because that is some bullshit, but if it were real, it’s not going to go away by me wanting to fall in love. My soulmate is out there somewhere, I just have to meet her,” Yoongi says. “Oh, and by the way, for that comment, it’ll be a flogging.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Hoseok says.

~*~*~*~

“Who the fuck would ever want to fall in love with you?” Hoseok says, incredulous. He rarely ever gets to actually witness Yoongi when Jimin’s in the midst of matchmaking, but honestly, if that’s how Yoongi acts with every girl, then it’s no surprise he doesn’t have a one true love. There’s probably no girl out there at all in the whole world who would ever fall in love with Yoongi. He’s a jackass.

“What can I say,” Yoongi shrugs.

“You’re a jackass,” Hoseok tells him, because he’s not one for holding his tongue.

“Hoseok!” Jimin says emphatically.

“I’ve called him worse than that when I’m not annoyed with him,” Hoseok says with a shrug.

“Still,” Jimin says. “Be easy on him, it’s not some small task, all of this meeting and greeting and trying to establish a connection with so little time to do it.” Hoseok is low key not sure what Jimin actually does. He used to know what Jimin did. Back in the day, four and a half years ago, Jimin used to pair Yoongi up with girls who fit a certain mold. He screened the girls before they made it to the ultimate rejection that Yoongi gave them. These days, literally any girl above a certain age is allowed to “try out.” Nowadays, it seems like all Jimin does is watch and make sure that Yoongi isn’t purposefully rude or shitty to them.

In all fairness, Yoongi isn’t actually mean to the girls. He just isn’t very opening, not the way he is with Hoseok at least. He can say or do anything he likes to Hoseok, and they’ll roll the joke around for a few weeks like it's nothing. He can’t fathom why none of these girls know how to establish a connection with Yoongi, when he’s so pathetically easy to understand, or maybe that’s just how Hoseok views him. He’s very simple. He’s also stupid as shit, and Hoseok tells him as such.

“You’re stupid as shit.”

“I don’t see you falling in love with anyone!” Yoongi says.

“That’s because I’m not going to go to sleep for all of eternity in less than a month!” Hoseok bites back at him.

“You two have a dichotomy I’ll never understand. If only there was a girl in this world who was as dumb as the two of you, maybe I could get Yoongi to fall in love with her,” Jimin says, almost to himself.

“Fuck you,” Yoongi says. Jimin is a very good friend of Yoongi’s, honestly and genuinely, but literally no one in the entire ingdom lets a ‘fuck you’ from the Prince roll of their back besides Hoseok. Jimin knows it’s a joke, but he’s still a little shaken by it.

Hoseok narrows his eyes indignantly at Yoongi, “I bet whoever your soulmate is she is as ugly as you are, and twice as annoying.”

“That’s a hanging for you,” Yoongi says.

Hoseok makes a very loud, aggravated sound and storms out of the room. He’s not sure why he’s angry. He didn’t used to get angry at Yoongi for turning girls down. He used to let it be a joke. Because that’s all it was when they were both seventeen and this matchmaking all started out. He laughed off the idea of his best friend in the world, the boy he knew since before he had the mental fortitude to understand what royalty was, falling in love. Now he’s becoming increasingly distressed. If Yoongi doesn’t find her in less than thirty days, he’s done for. The stupid motherfucker, he’s most definitely met her and rejected her already, because he’s too dumb for this world.

But god, if Yoongi goes to sleep forever, Hoseok’s life will screech to a halt. He’ll just stop caring about everything. Yoongi is his best goddamn friend in the world, and without him, not even his flowers will be enough color to populate the darkness that will fill him.

~*~*~*~

“What do you think is going to happen tonight?” Hoseok asks. It’s fully starting to sink in now that he’s going to wake up tomorrow and Yoongi won’t. Tonight is the night of “the big sleep,” as Yoongi has dubbed it. Yoongi is literally the only person in the entire kingdom not taking it seriously. He can’t honestly believe that the curse was fake, can he? An evil witch doesn’t show up on your doorstep to curse you to fall asleep when you touch a spindle just as a party trick. That’s clearly a curse. Yoongi is going to as good as die tonight, because the obstinate little shit couldn’t fall in love with the twenty-one years he was given to do it in. Just meet one girl and love her. That’s all he had to do.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Yoongi says, laughing. Hoseok pushes him in the shoulder, angrily, because he is angry. Yoongi is not taking this seriously. For him, he’s just going to be asleep, he won’t know how bad it gets, but for everyone else around him… that’s the end. He’s going to be gone, for just about forever. Maybe he will still be alive, breathing, sleeping, but he’ll be dead to everyone else. All because Yoongi couldn’t find his one true love who will kiss him and bring him back to life.

“That’s not funny!”

“You used to think it was,” Yoongi says.

“That was before it was, like, real,” Hoseok says. He should feel guilty, he supposes. He knew this was coming, but he kind of just assumed that everything would sort itself out. Yoongi is the most charming, wonderful, beautiful person in the entire world. How is it possible that any girl could help falling in love with him? He knows he’s said and thought the contrary about the Prince, but he never really meant it. Clearly, it’s Yoongi’s fault. Every girl is ready and willing to bring him back to life, but Yoongi’s picky. He needs to find his one true love, and even though it seems as though every eligible woman in this kingdom – and all the girls from here to three kingdoms over – have tried to offer themselves to him, he somehow hasn’t found ‘the one.’ Hoseok suspects that he probably has found the one, but he joked her away.

“It’s always been real, Seok,” he says, and for the first time probably in either of their lives, Yoongi is looking directly into Hoseok’s eyes with the solemn understanding of what is going to happen. Yes, Yoongi is going to ‘die’ tonight. Yes, his best friend in the entire world is going to have to look at Yoongi’s lifeless, sleeping body for the rest of his own natural life, unless a miracle strikes and Jimin is able to matchmake him while he’s unconscious. Yes, Hoseok will be heartbroken, and the reputation that Yoongi has bestowed upon him for having the brightest smile in the kingdom will be lost as soon as Yoongi’s eyes close.

“I hate you,” Hoseok says shaking his head. He wants to hug Yoongi, but he knows that it’s not seemly for the help to be so informal with royalty. Everyone in the palace knows that Hoseok and Yoongi are as close as two friends can possibly be, but that doesn’t change Hoseok’s status. Usually, he would disregard that rule, but everyone is on high alert because of the curse, which isn’t actually supposed to take effect until midnight tonight. Only a few more hours left with his best friend in the whole world.

At the very beginning of the desperate search for a match, Jimin had been ordered to only set Yoongi up with royals and girls from various noble families. When it was clear that wasn’t turning anything up, they started allowing anyone to vie for his hand. Now, they’ve reached a standstill. New women showing up by the hour with a prayer and a hope that they could be the long-lost Princess of Yoongi’s dreams. None of them have been.

“No you don’t,” Yoongi says, his smile doesn’t quite reach the sadness in his eyes. Hoseok realizes that Yoongi might have been joking about the curse all this time as a defense mechanism. He knows what’s going to happen. He’s always known. The only way to live with the fear of it has been to pretend he doesn’t care, but he does care. He’s absolutely terrified.

“I’m never going to forgive you for going to sleep,”

“Yeah, alright.”

Hoseok just crosses his arms and shakes his head. He glares out the window. It’s starting to become warm again, he’s gearing up to start fostering the spring flowers. Yoongi always says that he likes the bright, colorful ones, but Hoseok knows that the winter ones mean a little something more to him. The winter Jasmine in his room now is a welcome cut of white and yellow into the sullen darkness that his bedroom becomes when the moon rises earlier in the sky for months on end.

For spring this year, Hoseok has decided to grow a few different colors of lilies along with Yoongi's classic favorites. He can't wait until they bring warmth into Yoongi's room. The room might need it since Yoongi won't be awake to warm the room itself.

“You’re going to take care of things around here, aren’t you?” Yoongi asks, and Hoseok looks almost offended by him saying that. “Not just the flowers. You’ve got to keep that big smile of yours. My father adores you; you know. He might be all chivalrous and try to hide it because of his, I don’t know, pretense of masculinity in being King, but like, he’s always liked you. You were my best friend even as a kid. He’s going to need you to help him get by.”

“I hate all of this. I won’t let you fall asleep. You can’t prick your finger if I chop off both of your hands.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

~*~*~*~

No one is entirely sure where the spindle had even come from. There had been four guards on the door, four at the windows, two stood inside Yoongi’s bedroom, and just about every member of the kingdom standing guard outside the palace doors in support of their beloved Prince. There had not been a spindle in that room an hour before midnight, but once midnight struck, there it was.

Hoseok knows it’s the curse, he knows it’s not Yoongi’s fault, but that’s not going to stop him from blaming Yoongi for touching that goddamn spindle anyway. All he had to do was keep his hands to himself, but he couldn’t do that. The idiot.

The knight’s scream could be heard maybe not just through the entire palace, but perhaps through the entire kingdom. Hoseok had already been banished to the entrance hall when that scream pierced, and then the shouting, the running, the crying. He hadn’t been scared, sad, in disbelief, angry, or anything at all really. He had just been numb. He knew what had happened. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel.

That was six months ago.

It didn't rain this summer and it hasn’t snowed yet this winter, and the people of the kingdom believe it never will until Yoongi wakes up. The air and sky have been entirely dry for too long. Some of the officials are saying that if they don’t receive some sort of precipitation in the next few weeks, they’ll be looking at a full-fledged drought come spring. Maybe it’s what a kingdom without Yoongi deserves. A land without water is a land not worth living in, just as a land without Yoongi bares no real purpose either.

Hoseok watches, waits, sitting on the steps of the front entrance to the palace, watching a girl that has surely already tried to throw Yoongi her love, walks up the stairs to try her luck again. Every girl who had once bid themselves away to be loved by Yoongi has now returned to place one kiss on the cheek of the sleeping Prince. Hoseok runs the little bouquet of sweet alyssum through his fingers, thinking about how Yoongi would stop to smell them before asking Hoseok to cover his room with the stuff. Yoongi always loved Hoseok’s flowers more than anyone else. He doesn’t even think anyone would have noticed they still had a gardener if it weren’t for Yoongi insisting that every room hold a testament to Hoseok’s hard work.

Any minute now, that girl will come rushing back out the castle steps crying because it’s not her; she isn’t the Prince’s one true love. How important does she think she is to think she could ever be good enough for his Prince?

Jimin guides the girl in with a gentle nod of his head. He’s still hoping that one of these girls will be the one, which is stupid, because Hoseok knows that she’s never coming. Yoongi would have noticed her, surely. He’s the smartest man Hoseok’s ever known, of course Yoongi would know her when he saw her.

It’s dreadful to say that Hoseok’s given up, but he has. He knows Yoongi too well to think that a girl he’s never met could ever be his one true love. Maybe one of these girls really was meant to be for him, but a kiss wouldn’t work if Yoongi didn’t know he loved her first. That’s the kind of person he was.

Was.

Yoongi is now a was. He’s no longer an is. He’s a was.

Pretty soon, they’re going to stop allowing Hoseok to tend the garden. If water becomes scarce, they won’t have any to waste on some measly flowers. He’s not going to let that happen. Hoseok will trek to the nearest lake, river, or ocean every single day without sleep in order to get the water to grow Yoongi’s favorite flowers. Because, what if, by some unimageable miracle, Yoongi wakes up and there are no flowers to greet him?

Hoseok stays seated on these steps, watching his breath form a white cloud every time he exhales, but he doesn’t feel the cold. He doesn’t feel much of anything. Maybe he never will again.

She comes running out of the steps only a few minutes later, with her hands to her eyes, as soft sobs run through her, sobs that don’t even rip out of her like they should, like the ones that put Hoseok to sleep every night. Her tears are vapid. She’s not the one. That’s not why you should be crying for Yoongi. Cry because he is the most amazing man in all the kingdoms, and cry because he can’t ever wake up.

~*~*~*~

He’s just received the news. As much as the King would like for Hoseok to stay on at the palace, it would simply be irresponsible for a kingdom in drought to waste so much water on the flowers. Hoseok had known it was coming. He refuses to accept it, though. He puts the pink azaleas into the vase beside Yoongi’s bed, worrying that these are the last offering he’ll be able to give to Yoongi. He’s going to find a way to keep the flowers growing. At least enough to keep filling the room. He hopes.

Hoseok knows it’s unrealistic. He’ll be in a lot of trouble if he starts literally draining a precious resource. But it breaks his heart in two to think about the sadness that would be in Yoongi’s face were the flowers to stop growing.

It’s been almost exactly one year since he went to sleep. What should have been winter has come and gone. It was blisteringly cold, but there was no snow. Instead, everything had frozen up, the entire kingdom a dry, helpless place. Few girls were able to trek their way to the palace to offer up their love to the Prince, but it’s not like it would matter.

Hoseok sighs, and sits himself on the bed right next to Yoongi. His sleeping face is devastatingly handsome, but more than that, it’s just devastating. Hoseok has not been as frequent a visitor to his room as one would expect, because he’s been far too sad to see him. He only comes in to change out the flowers once they begin to fray and wilt.

It’s a Sunday, so they aren’t taking visitors, which means Yoongi will be all by himself until tomorrow when he’s sure more girls who think they’re the one find out that they’ve been kidding themselves.

Hoseok looks at his soft face. Yoongi is so pale; he hasn’t seen the sun in a year. He doesn’t look any thinner than he did when he went to sleep, so that might be part of the magic. His cheeks don’t have any color to them, but you can sit and watch his chest rise and fall. Hoseok puts a hand on his chest just to feel it. He needs to know Yoongi is still breathing, even if it doesn’t really matter anyhow.

His skin isn’t warm, in fact, even through his shirt, Hoseok can feel that he’s cold. The only indicator that this man is still alive is the feel of his chest, which Hoseok savors.

Why is it better that he’s alive, never to be awoken than it would be if he were dead? Is that what that old crone had wanted to do in the first place when she cursed him? She wanted the entire kingdom to have hope, because hope keeps you thinking something good might happen. But really, that witch never intended for this story to have a happy ending. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t actually have a true love at all. Maybe that’s the game. That Yoongi is unlovable. She gave everyone a hope that the curse could be broken as long as he finds his true love, but she doesn’t exist.

Hoseok had thought that the tears were behind him, but he catches a loud harsh sob in his throat, which physically pains him. He puts his head into his hands and leans away from Yoongi so that he can cry into them. And he cries and cries and cries. For an hour, maybe two, Hoseok just cries next to Yoongi. Every few minutes, there will be a minute of pause where he stops, thinks that they’ve subsided, but then, the tears come back even harder. He can’t afford to waste his tears because they tend to dehydrate him, and that’s the worst thing to happen in a drought. But he just can’t help himself.

“This is all your fucking fault, you piece of shit,” Hoseok says to Yoongi, turning to again look at his stupidly attractive face. No one has the right to look that beautiful, least of all not a man who’s as good as dead.

“You couldn’t just fall in love and be happy. No, you had to be a picky son of a bitch.” Hoseok prods at his shoulder, like he would if he were waiting for Yoongi to respond to him, which he doesn’t do.

“You’re still picky. Girls are traipsing through here every damn day, and you just sit there like a pathetic little fucker. They come in here and they kiss you, and you just lie there, because you’re stupid,” Hoseok tells him. He puts his hand in Yoongi’s hair, he doesn’t know why, he just wants to. His hair is still soft, as if he had washed it just yesterday. He doesn’t have any real bodily functions, doesn’t need to eat or piss, so he’s literally as perfect as the day he went to bed, his twenty-first birthday. “They kiss your stupid fucking face, when they’re not in love with you, while the people who really do love you have to just look at you all the time and know you’re never coming back.”

Why won’t Yoongi listen to him? Why won’t he wake up so that he can threaten to put Hoseok in the stocks? Why doesn’t Yoongi wake up to tell him to smile like he always used to? Why doesn’t Yoongi just wake up?

No one has called him Seok in a year. No one has told Hoseok how pretty his flowers are, or at least, no one has meant it the way Yoongi always did. No one has even really made a joke in Hoseok’s direction at all. No one in the kingdom jokes, smiles, or laughs anymore, not with Yoongi in this state, but especially not Hoseok. It’s very clear that Hoseok has taken it worse than anyone else. Not even Yoongi’s own father, the King, has a comprehension of the pain Hoseok feels when he looks upon his best friend.

“Fuck you, Yoongi. You know that I care about you, don’t you, dumbass? I care about you more than anyone in the world does. More than Jimin, more than your dad, more than literally anyone. Why don’t you wake up for me?” Hoseok says, and maybe just to prove a point he kisses Yoongi’s cheek like all those girls have done. “Wake up for me, you stupid fucking shit.”

Hoseok starts crying again, practically draping himself over Yoongi’s body as he cries right against his chest, wishing that Yoongi’s warmth could seep into him and make him feel a little less alone.

…his warmth?

“It’s going to be the gallows for that sort of language.” The voice is very soft and croaky, from months and months of disuse. Hoseok’s crying halts, almost like someone has strangled him. He lifts himself up, hair in his own face, so he has to brush it aside so that he can meet those big brown eyes.

“Yoongi?” Hoseok’s voice sounds so soft that he’s not sure if it's even audible.

“You’re my one true love, aren’t you?” Yoongi asks, looking very soft and sleepy. He barely even looks awake, which isn’t fair considering how much sleep he fucking got.

“I absolutely fucking am not,” Hoseok says, something like repulsion in his voice.

Yoongi uses a very sleepy hand to pull Hoseok’s face to his and this time, though Hoseok could not tell you at all how it comes to be so, his lips meet Yoongi’s own lips. Hoseok’s never kissed anyone before, so he supposes it’s possible that all kisses feel as perfect as this one, but he thinks it’s pretty unlikely.

“Oh yeah,” Yoongi says when his smiling breaks the kiss, “I think you fucking are.”

“I am not,” Hoseok says, being the one to kiss Yoongi this time. He doesn’t know what emotions he’s feeling right now. He’s feeling a lot of them. All of the emotions. Every last one. Rage, passion, sorrow, pride, happiness. Everything.

“Those flowers are very pretty,” Yoongi says.

“Fuck you,” Hoseok responds. Yoongi has sat up in bed, when did that happen? Neither of them knows. Hoseok is still kissing him; Yoongi is kissing him back. Softly, then angrily, because Hoseok is furious with this piece of shit who had the nerve to go and fall in love with him. This absolute motherfucker, who would dare be Hoseok’s one true love. Of course he’s not going to fall in love with a girl, they should’ve both realized no one else but him could be the one. Why didn't this stupid dipshit realize that they were made for each other before he went to sleep? If he had, Hoseok would have been saved from a lot of sadness and turmoil. Absolute piss for brains.

A voice comes screaming down the halls, a voice that comes from Jimin. “It’s raining, Hoseok, fuck, ow, stubbed my toe. Hoseok, it’s raining, it’s actually raining!” There’s a lot of thudding before the door is whacked open by an overly excited Jimin who’s here to tell Hoseok what will probably the only good news for the rest of their shared lifetimes.

Yoongi and Hoseok only pull away because they can sense something important is happening, though neither of them have a clue what Jimin had just been screaming about, or why it could ever be important in comparison to them kissing each other.

“What the fuck?” Jimin says, as he’s stood in the doorway looking at a very much conscious Prince.

“Have I missed much?” Yoongi smiles widely, and god, it’s that look, those pretty teeth bared, on that pretty face that finally allows what Yoongi has dubbed the brightest smile in the entire kingdom to return to Hoseok’s face.

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors 

Chapter 1: Andromeda I - Wild Thing

Pairing: Andromeda Black and Ted Tonks

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Mild swearing, Quidditch bashing

Andromeda sat comfortably against the big tree reading her copy of Advanced Charms. It was a warm spring day and what felt like the entire school and its faculty were off watching Slytherin and Hufflepuff, in the big match that would decide the 1966/67 Quidditch Cup. Slytherin were looking to regain their crown which Gryffindor pipped them to the previous year. Andromeda didn't care about quidditch though. She was just glad that it meant a nice peaceful afternoon alone studying in the sun.

"OH FOR CHRIST'S SAKE WHY WON'T YOU WORK?! IT'S THE NORTH LONDON DERBY!"

Andromeda jumped at the sound of the stranger's voice. She thought she'd been alone in this secluded section of the castle grounds near the Great Lake, but alas, she evidently wasn't. It had been a male voice, quite deep, but certainly not as opulent or proper as the pureblood boys that frequented the Slytherin dungeon.

As she glanced over she saw a rather frustrated looking blonde-haired boy, who was wearing a red long-sleeve shirt with a cannon on the front - she assumed (very wrongly) that it must be a Chudley Cannons top. He had broad shoulders and a fairly stocky body, but he looked like he kept in quite good shape. The perfect build for a beater - not that Andromeda cared in the slightest about quidditch or the horrible boys who played it… well, not anymore, anyway.

The stranger in the red top was now desperately tapping his wand against what looked like a muggle-radio. She could've sworn she recognized the boy from around the castle, but she couldn't put a name to him – perhaps he was a year or two older.

What she noticed most as she got closer towards him was his funny haircut. It looked a little bit like a mop and was definitely not a style you saw often in pureblood circles – he was almost certainly a muggle-born, or a half-blood at the very least. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

"REPARO! REPARO! REPAR-

Suddenly the radio sparked into life and the mop-haired boy's face lit up in elation.

Andromeda had stood up now and was walking over to the boy, with the intention of giving him a stern telling off for making such a racket. Whilst she didn't have the same temper that her older sister was infamous for – she was still a Black, which meant a certain level of respect and fear from strangers before even opening your mouth. An older boy or not, if he thought he was going to impede her studying with his noisy radio, then he had another thing coming.

"A wonderful game so far today. There has been drama at both ends of the pitch. And now it is Lucius Malfoy with the quaffle and-

"NO NO STUPID THING FOR FU-

The boy stopped mid-sentence and clumsily dropped the radio to the ground. She thought he'd looked angry before, but seeing Andromeda walking over had taken him over the edge. She wasn't in the mood for any attitude, especially after just hearing that lying scumbag's name on the radio. No bother, she'd soon put him in his place.

But yet, as it would happen… this mop-haired idiot had other ideas… as before she even had a chance to open her mouth he raised his wand to her, which took her off guard… out of instinct alone Andromeda took out her wand too but-

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

He'd disarmed her before she'd even had the chance to reason with him. She saw her wand soar through the sky and into his spare hand.

"Gotcha!"

The blonde-boy now carefully pointed both wands at Andromeda, whilst doing so he gazed at her sternly, almost as if he was sizing her up. His eyes darted around the trees to make sure there was nobody else with her. She'd never been so much as challenged to a duel by a boy before, let alone disarmed – it just wasn't the done thing, especially to a Black.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you are doing?! If my Father heard about this! What kind of good-for-nothing-

"Say it! Go on! Good-for-nothing-Mudblood! There! That's the word you were looking for, isn't it?! You think I didn't hear you in the corridor last week?!" he spat at her.

Andromeda shuddered at hearing the word said out-loud with such fury. She was no stranger to it of course. It was a favourite of her Fathers. Bellatrix too had recently taken to throwing it around the castle at the muggle-borns, no doubt to impress the nasty older boys she liked to tag along with.

"Not so cocky now that you're disarmed, are you? None of your boyfriends hiding behind those trees are they?"

The stranger's eyes shot past her once again to double-check that there was nobody waiting to ambush him. Andromeda wished there was.

"Boyfriends? What boyfriends? You do not know anything about me I-

"Oh I know enough about you, Black! The whole school knows about what you get up to. Prefect's bathroom is it? Or maybe you're all at it in your dormitories! It wouldn't surprise me… and you pure-bloods are all related to each other somehow too, aren't ya? Christ! I reckon some of you must be more inbred than Yeast!"

Andromeda stood in stunned silence at the boy.

She'd never in her fourteen years of living ever had a member of the opposite sex dare speak to her this way. Her father never had the time nor enthusiasm to raise his voice to any of his daughters, even Bellatrix – instead opting to vent his fury at their mother for failing to birth him a son. The boys in her year would never dream of it either, she was a Black – and if that didn't frighten them enough, they'd probably think she'd set Bellatrix on them, which to most reasonable people was almost as petrifying a prospect as a Basilisk.

Andromeda walked closer to the boy now, keeping an eye carefully on both wands which were still pointing directly at her.

As she got closer to him she noticed that he had remarkably prominent cheek bones and also that he smelt very strongly of lemon. It was a very different sort of smell to the potions that would waft off of the older boys in the Slytherin common room. This was a much more modern scent, not the sort of archaic aroma that just smelled like her Father.

"Now Black, you listen to me. I don't know what you were doin' sneakin' up on me like this on your own, certainly ain't like you or any of your lot not to attack in a pack. But I spose you-

"I was not sneaking up on you! I did not even have my wand out. I think there has been a big misunderstanding and-

"A misunderstanding?! Are you takin' the mick? You're lucky that my old man brought me up betta than to hex a girl, Bellatrix!"

"I AM NOT BELLATRIX YOU IMBECILE!"

"You what?"

The famous Black temper had put him back in his place, he looked a little worried now. He'd definitely seen a flash of Bellatrix's unrivalled rage when she'd screamed at him. She was still disarmed of course, but it was a real testament to the Black family name and her sister's fiery reputation that he'd instantly shut up.

"I AM NOT BELLATRIX BLACK! I am her sister…Andromeda. I was not 'sneakin' up on you, I did not call you a mudblood in the corridor last week and I most definitely do not have any boyfriends! If you had let me speak before you decided to attack me… then you would have known that the only reason I came over here was to ask you to keep the noise down. Some of us have studying to do!"

She'd seen the look on his face before. The guilty puppy-type look. It was one their house-elf, Rudy, often wore when he'd displeased her Mother. Yes, she knew what was coming next. A heart-felt apology, a load of grovelling and-

"Andromeda?! Ha-ha! W'a sort of a name is that?"

Andromeda gave him a death stare.

"Well…Andromeda…" he began, smirking as he repeated the name her astrology-loving mother had given her.

"I suppose there might have been a bit of a misunderstanding here, given the circumstances-

"You will be giving me my wand back right now!" she snapped, holding her hand out towards him.

"What's the magic word, Andromeda?" he replied in a sarcastic tone.

"Well I would use Accio, but since you have my wand in your hand I-

"Not the spell, you donut…"

Andromeda had certainly never been called a donut before.

"Please. The magic word is please. Dunno what silly bugger came up with that expression though, muggles are much more polite than magic-folk. Now, repeat after me Andromeda. Can I have my wand back please, Ted?"

Andromeda sighed. Grovelling and apologising was not something that came naturally to her. She had a right mind to head up to the Owlery and send a letter to her Father – this imbecile would probably be out of Hogwarts by nightfall. But she did like the way his muscular arms creased against his top, not many of the pureblood Slytherin boys were built like that – and the impertinent smile he now wore on his face really did bring out those cheek bones…

"Can I have my wand back please, Ted?"

"Course you can, love! Why didn't you ask sooner?" he teased, as he handed her back the 10-inch dragon heart-string wand. She'd never been addressed as 'love' before and didn't take too kindly to it – he wasn't getting the satisfaction of a thank-you. And too right – he did steal her wand after all…

"So that is your name then… Ted?"

"Not quite. Edward Tonks. Friend's call me, Ted."

"Oh, I see. So you think that we are friends now, do you? After you disarmed me and-

"I told you I thought you was your sister didn't I! I'm sure it ain't the first time someone's mistaken you for her, look bleedin' identical!"

It certainly wasn't the first time someone had mistaken her for Bellatrix. It wasn't the first time an older boy had mistaken her for Bellatrix either, in-fact, just a few weeks ago, she'd been sat in the common room studying with her back to the room, when Corban Yaxley had started gently running his fingers through her hair. He'd stopped very abruptly when she turned around and it became very apparent to Yaxley and the friends he was showing off to that she was not her sister, nor was she interested in partaking in the same sort of flirting that Bellatrix lived for.

"So, how come you're out here sneakin' up on me and not up at the quidditch pitch fawning over the Slytherin team like her then?"

"For the last time I was NOT sneaking up on you. I was coming over here to ask you to keep the noise down, you were making quite the racket. I could not hear myself think. And I hate quidditch and quidditch boys. I would sooner listen to a Mandrake cry than watch that nonsense."

Ted's face lit up that last part.

"Do you kno', you're the first person I've met here who thinks that? Even the other muggle-born lads I'm mates with can't get enough of it. Load of bloody rubbish."

"I have never liked it, my Father-

"I mean, yeah, decent sport on paper, init? Sort of a bit like football and field hockey combined but on brooms. Nothing wrong with that. Great concept…"

Andromeda really hadn't the slightest clue what football or field hockey was, but she enjoyed his unusually common accent as he ranted. She didn't hear accents like that very often, nor did she often hear people speak using such an unrefined idiolect. Her Mother would yell whenever Andromeda or her sisters dared to speak without using proper grammar, which had always been enough to put off Andromeda or Cissy… but Bellatrix would just laugh or shout back even louder.

"…bit brutal, even more than rugby, but watchable. I remember when me mates from my dorm dragged me down to our first game o' the season in first year. Think it was actually the same game as today actually, us versus your lot. Had a few Slytherin boys calling me mud-blood in the corridor already-

"You were getting called that in first year?! But… but that is awful!"

"Yeah… well I s'pose I hadn't really come to terms with wizard fascism just yet, but thought it would be great comeuppance if we beat them. So I went along. Anyway, first thing I noticed was that all your players was flying a whole load faster than most of our boys. Took me a while to notice cause of the weather, but then it hit me. All your lot had faster brooms! Course, was only new to the wizarding world at that point so it took me a few years to really come to terms with it, but it's simple really, init? The kids with the richer parents have the faster brooms don't they? I mean what sort of capitalist nonsense is that? Could sort of justify it at the top level I guess, there's capitalism in every sport, but at schoolboy level, are they mad? No wonder it's always Slytherin and Gryffindor what wins the Quidditch Cup. Outrageous, don't you think?"

"Well, errr I suppose… I suppose that I have never really thought about it like tha-

"And okay. Okay. Let's say you can get past the blatant capitalism of it all. I mean, it happens in football too. Man United paid £115,000 for Denis Law a few years back… o' course, don't get me wrong, absolutely cracking striker. Top rate. But over one hundred grand for a footballer? Insanity. But yeah. Say you get past the capitalism of the brooms. I'm watching my lads against the Slytherin bods and they're giving it their all. Doing us right proud. 100-80 up! We're lovin' it. Been a real close game. I'm warming to it, not as good as football o' course, but can totally see why you magic folk are so mad for it. Then all of a sudden the ref's blowing his whistle. The game's over. I'm going bonkers! We've only gone and beat 'em ain't we! Except nobody around me is celebrating. I look around. Everyone's gutted. I turned to me mate, asked him what was goin' on. Anyway, you can imagine my surprise when he tells me we've lost. Hang about, I said. How can we 'ave lost, we was 2 goals up! That's when he tells me. Says the Slytherin seeker's caught the snitch, they've won. What the bloody hell is a snitch I ask him. Tells me-

"I am aware of the function of a snitch…"

"You wha'? Oh yeah, sorry, got a bit carried away. But can you believe it? I've just watched my team for the best part of an hour. Blood, sweat, tears – the lot. We're winning the game, then all of a sudden someone catches some stupid little golden ball and they've ended the game and got themselves ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY POINTS?! Who on earth came up with that? What was they smokin'?! What's the point of the rest of the game?! I mean, I know the Americans have some daft sports, but that takes the biscuit as the worst sport I've ever seen. Bloody ridiculous!"

"Yes, quite…so err… I take it you, err… you were not trying to pick up the quidditch commentary on that contraption of yours then?"

"Course I bloody wasn't! I was trying to pick up the football. The Arsenal are playing The scum."

"I take it that is some kind of muggle sport?"

"Yeah, it's a real simple game. Working man's game. Sort of like Quidditch, but without the brooms. Just one ball. And no snitch, just two timed halves of forty-five minutes."

"And you can only touch the ball with your feet, I assume?"

"Yeah! Well. Sort of. I mean, you can use your head too. And I guess your shin, any part of your leg really. And your chest, well, I mean, basically any part of your body apart from your hand. Although you can use your hands if you're taking a throw-in, or you can use it all the time if you're a keeper. Only in your box though."

"But… they call it football? Sounds kind of stupid if you ask me."

"It's not stupid! It's the best! And England only went and won the World Cup last year, didn't they? Oh it was bloody brilliant it was. Went up Wembley with my old man for the final. Even saw old Nobby Leach there too, right in with the VIPs he was!"

"My Mother and Father cannot stand that man."

"Who, Leachy? Absolute legend he is! First-

"First muggle-born Minister for Magic in history. Yes. It is all I would ever hear about at home. My Father is convinced it is all part of some kind of muggle-conspiracy to take over. He believes the muggles have planted spies among us to infiltrate from within."

"What rubbish! Our governments are too worried about the Soviets blowing everyone up to notice a few poxy wizards casting a few spells here and there. You don't believe that nonsense do you?"

"No. Of course not. But he reads The Daily Prophet and you know what they are like, spouting all these conspiracies and what not. They dare not say it in the papers of course, but my parents and a lot of their friends, sometimes I hear them when they have their dinner parties. Some of them say it would have been better if Grindelwald had defeated Dumbledore. That we would not have the filthy blood traitors in our government and the damned muggle-borns in our schools."

"And do you think that?"

"No. I mean, of course when you are younger and that is all you have known you just sort of go along with it, don't you. Just accept it as the truth. But a few of the teachers here are muggle-borns or half-bloods and some of my classmates from the other houses are muggle-borns, or half-bloods – and I do not think they are evil or horrible at all."

"My old man's always told me you ought to treat people how they treat you, don't matter who they are or what they look like. Reckon your Father and his sort ought to think about that. "

"I reckon my Father, as member of the school's board of governors, would be very interested to hear that his darling pureblood daughter was disarmed and threatened at wand-point by a damned muggle-born."

Ted looked very much taken aback by that. She almost saw the same sense of fear that had briefly silenced him earlier.

"You-

"Relax. I was just jesting. Now if you will be so kind as to give me that," she said, pointing to his radio.

Ted hesitantly picked up the radio, but when she smiled and beckoned for it once more, he relented and carefully placed it in her left hand.

"Reparo," she whispered whilst focusing intently.

The radio suddenly spluttered into life.

Wild thing… you make my heart sing

You make everything groovy… wild thing

Wild thing... I think I love you

But I wanna know for sure…

Ted carefully adjusted a few buttons on the radio with his fingers and the muggle-song (which many weeks later she discovered was by a muggle-band called The Troggs and would, many years later, insist on being played at their wedding) abruptly ended, then some more noise burst out.

A fine save from the Scot in goal, Bob Wilson. He throws it out to Rice who is just outside his own box on the left hand side. Pat Rice has Frank McLintock and George Graham in space further up the field, but he may opt to hurl it up towards Charlie George who appears to have found some space in Tottenham's half…

"You did it! You fixed it! You've got it back picking up the muggle stations again! I knew it would do it. My mates reckoned it would never work like all the other muggle-tech don't, but one of the Gryffindor prefects overheard us talking about it in the Great Hall a few weeks ago. Said he was good at fiddling with stuff, was really interested in muggle-tech too. He did a good job, had it working for about a week now, but it cut out not long after you came over. I owe you big time, you've made my day!"

"Well, err, thank you, I guess. Charms has always come naturally to me. Any sort of repairing or cleaning spell is easy really, you just have to focus.

Now, if you do not mind, I really ought to get back to my work. It was nice meeting you, Ted."

"Pleasure was all mine," he replied, holding out his hand. She smiled reluctantly and offered out her hand, which he took and firmly shook. As he shook her hand and briefly moved closer towards her she noticed the heavy-scent of his citrus aftershave once more (which many weeks later she discovered was a muggle perfume called Eau Sauvage by Christion Dior and would, many years later, insist on Ted wearing at their wedding) and then, just as she turned and began to walk away…

"I tell you what, Andromeda" he began… as she turned back around she noticed a sly smile had emerged on his face.

"How about on the Hogsmeade trip next week I take you for tea at Madam Puddifoot's? You know, just as friends. Nothing more. Just as a thanks for helping fix me radio and as a sorry for you know, disarming and threatenin' ya. What do you reckon?"

He was asking her on a date. The nerve. Her Father would be furious. Bellatrix would go berserk. And dear old Lucius, well, he would be livid. Yes, yes he would.

Andromeda rolled her eyes at Ted, before she let a rare smile escape her face.

"I reckon my Father would be very interested to hear that his darling pureblood daughter had been invited on a date by a damned muggle-born, especially one with such a funny haircut" she said sardonically, before letting out a small laugh and walking away again, leaving him fairly bewildered.

"So was that a yes?!" he called after her.

"Yes! Meet me at 10 o clock inside Tomes and Scrolls. I have a few books that I need to pick up first" she yelled back.

"And Ted?"

"Yes, darling?"

He was pushing it now.

"All of those things you said to me, when you thought I was Bellatrix. Best not to say anything like that to her, or any of her friends. And do not dare engage in a duel with any of them…I can only imagine the things they would do."

"They don't scare me!" Ted bellowed defiantly.

He was, at best, naïve. At worst, a fool, who could soon find himself with a one way ticket to the hospital-wing, or much worse…