#ignore charlie browns @ its not important

[ghost-core-wastaken]

this has nothing to do with anything I was just disappointed it didn’t already exist on the internet

that I could find at least

[darlingchronicles]

Oh, Schroeder...

pairing: jj x fem!pianist!reader

summary: a piano prodigy had captured the eye of jj ever since they were young, but their friendship is constantly up and down. she claims she's interested in piano and piano only, but (un) fortunately the heart wants what it wants.

word count: 18.8k (tad of a slow burn)

content warnings: drinking & drug use, angst if you squint, cursing, crying, miscommunication-ish, reader being kinda cold, anxiety, "original songs" are mainly by Taylor Swift, all songs linked

loosely inspired by Charlie Brown's "Schroeder and Lucy" 

Enjoy!

"OH, SCHRODER!"

The girl had barely sat down. Her sheet music wasn't on the music desk. Her favorite ballpoint pen hadn't been laid in front of it, ensuring the AC didn't blow the pages. Her fingers hadn't been cracked or stretched out. Her iced matcha with almond milk hadn't even begun to condense.

She let out a sigh.

Beginning piano at just two years old had certainly captured much attention of the young girl and as she grew, she adapted to the name of "prodigy" that had been placed on her. With that name, she had gotten everything from people who wanted to see her "succeed" or at least appear to care about her in order to up their appearances. Everything from a brand new piano to music classes with composers and pianists from Juilliard and entry to every performance she wanted to see was given into the palm of her hand.

Everything.

Including two free periods at the beginning and at the end of her school day in the music room in order to practice. She had barely brought up the suggestion to the Board of Education of Kildare, the ones receiving paychecks from the government because of her interest in the arts and was the reason for funding in the school, and she already had a cleared out schedule in her hands.

The room was to be spotless and cleared out for her.

And only her.

And yet that didn't stop people from disturbing her.

"Yes, Maybank?" She said refraining from calling him "Lucy", but a minor laugh made its way to the end.

It wasn't even nine in the morning. She was surprised he was up that early as he spends most of his time in art sleeping in the back. Not that she takes notice or anything. She's at the table next to him and he snores a little. And it wasn't like she could ignore him - not like they were friends, but they weren't enemies.

Frenemies.

"Aw shucks, how'd you know it was me?" He jogged up the steps onto the miniature stage that was implemented in the music room.

"Well no one else bothers like you do in the morning. So," She slammed down her sheet music on the top of the piano, letting the sound echo before replying with a sarcastic smile, "lucky guess."

"Didn't know I was so important to you." JJ leaned against her piano, crossing his ankles and his arms. She wanted to whack his backwards hat off his head.

"Believe me, you aren't. And now you are just bothering." She huffed, placing everything in order before massaging her hands. When she noticed that he stayed put, like always, she rolled her eyes, "Don't you have algebra right now or something?"

"Something." He shrugged.

He always did this. He always came in, unannounced, and tried talking her up and distracting her. She'd understand if he was trying to get out of class or just wanted a quiet place to do his homework or escape a few teachers (she'd done the same herself) but he purposefully came in to talk to her. Sometimes she enjoyed the company to fill in the moments of isolation. Sometimes she was more annoyed at it when she needed to work. Such as that particular day.

And no pointed finger at the door, no retort or comment on how he was bothering her, and not even a threat to complain to the Principal about his intrusion scared him away. If anything, it only caused him to come around more often. If he wasn't there her first period, he was there her second. If he didn't show up in the morning, believe that he will be there in the afternoon for her final two periods. He'd chew gum loudly, blow on the trumpets to try and get her to mess up her piece or make paper airplanes of sheet music lying around and throw them around the room.

And she needed to work that day, so only God knew what he was going to do to distract her that day.

Once he'd even had the audacity to climb on the piano and lay on it. He had done it once and only once because that was the day that she actually coaxed him off the piano with a sweet smile and eyes before grabbing onto his shirt and dragging him out of the room and told him that if he did it again she'd personally see to it that he's stuffed into the piano and left there for the weekend before slamming the door in his face.

He still came back the next day, still bothering, but sitting on the floor this time.

She narrowed her eyes at him as he tapped the sleek black with his index figure. He took note of her silence before following her eyes to his finger and his posture against her instrument, silently chuckling before stepping away with his hands in the air.

"Don't shoot me."

"Believe me, I stop myself every single day." He winked at her, shiny eyes looking at her, and she could only roll her eyes and place her hands on the keys, "Don't bother me and I won't drag you out of here again. I need to actually practice today."

Oh she needed to practice. Her recital at the Kennedy Center was her top priority. She couldn't deviate from her plans to practice.

"Yes ma'am."

Another roll of her eyes (maybe the apples of her cheeks heated up, but she'd never admit or check that) and she began to play. Her warm up always consisted of three songs - one from a classical composer, another from a movie and the final is a popular song that she converted into a ballad. Every musician, athlete and gambler she knew had a system and this was hers - the number three. Three warm-ups to get her started for the day.

That particular day, she chose Beethoven's Piano Sonata No.14 in C-Sharp Minor, which she had claimed to be one of her favorite pieces to play. She found it soothing although the song did sound daunting to the common ear. The notes were smooth and crisp to her ears that she had played it nearly every time she had to perform. The music so raw and emotional.

"Why do you play depressing songs? I thought pianists were supposed to be lighthearted." His voice cut through her piece halfway through, making her miss a note. She continued, ignoring the blond boy, "Then again, you're uptight enough that I'm not surprised by your music selection. Do you ever play rock music on that thing? Maybe some Fleetwood Mac or Meta-"

She stopped playing abruptly and turned her head, noticing that he was laying on the floor near the edge of the stage, only a couple inches from her, "Beethoven is one of the greatest composers to ever exist." She hissed, not feeling friendly at the moment he insulted one of her favorite composers, "His music changed people's perception on what music can be. Unpredictable and emotional." She saw red for a moment, "Do you ever hear yourself and think "I should shut up" when you don't know something? Hmmm?"

He looked up at the ceiling in false thought before shaking his head, "So that's a no to both our questions."

She almost smiled, but only deadpanned, "I should lock you out."

"Oh you see, but you've tried that already." He threw up his hands in the air, "Just can't keep a jailbird out."

"Oh this is a cell?" She hummed. You would know what a cell is, don't you?

"For you, yeah." He shrugged, looking around for second before whistling lowly like he always did, "But hey, what a girl wants what a girl wants. I can't explain your mind to you."

"It's not a cell, now shut up." She snapped at him before turning back to her keys.

Taking it that she wasn't going to get far with Beethoven, she turned to her second soundtrack. She let her keys play the beginning notes to Mia and Sebastian's Theme, a song she had fallen in love with however heartbroken she had been at the end of the movie. She had seen the film with her best friend friend, Sarah, and hadn't noticed a tick she had until Sarah pointed it out. She had been pressing her fingers down on her knees as if she was playing the song in real time.

As the song came to its fast crescendo and decrescendo, a snap of fingers hit her ears.

"See now that's all lovey dovey and heartaching-y and I don't know if you're trying to foreshadow anything, but maybe don't play the ending to that."

"Do you even understand what foreshadowing means?"

"Not in the slightest sense." He smiled brightly before laying down on the floor with his arm as a pillow. "I'm bored with all this slow music."

"Oh, am I boring you?" She grumbled, pulling out her third set of sheet music, hoping to not get interrupted. He's usually tolerable when it came to his unwarranted visits, but today, she was neither interested in his jokes or his presence and he seemed to feed off of it. Her recital was in June.

It was nearing the end of May and the clock was only ticking.

"Oh you? Never. Maybe your depressing music, but never you. Your voice is music to my ears."

"Once more," She sighed, "Shut. Up."

She didn't wait for a reply and began playing her final warm-up song. Her pop songs usually came from Sarah, who had challenged her to play something she usually wouldn't. Sarah had chosen Shawn Mendez's In My Blood, and surprisingly she enjoyed it. Especially the chorus. Her fingers flew back and forth, playing both the melody and the "lyrics" portion. She had almost made it to the end when the sound of a can opening brought her out of her trance. She accidentally hit the keys hard on her unfinished notes and whipped her head to the boy on the floor. He wasn't looking at her, only drinking from a can of Monster before glancing at her hardened state and her whiten knuckles.

"I didn't say anything."

◇ ◇ ◇

Many believed because she was a piano prodigy that she had nothing else she wanted to do. And you'd be right. There was nothing else for her that she wanted to do. Not a single thing as she grew up. Everything revolved around her talent - natural, God given, incredible and undeniable talent. If it were art or soccer or anything, but an instrument, she would have been treated equally with a bit more praise than others.

But piano was an instrument that took years to master and it didn't help that she was a girl. A girl with much smaller hands than those of grown men who played at the same level of her, if not lower. Piano was not kind to those with smaller hands and she learned it the hard way. She always had to reach and strain her fingers in order to play smoothly. Her skin tore, became sore and she had consistent nights with ice on her tan skin.

Because of it, every adult gave her special treatment. She was a one of a kind pianist. She picked up on notes perfectly - she had perfect pitch. She learned songs in only a few hours, even the most complex ones - she had a solid memory bank for music. She never complained about her hands being sore or being tired of playing - she was resilient. She was a young girl from the Cut with a talent that would bring her out of the depths of poverty - she was given a gift.

Praise came to her from every direction ever since she was young. And it worked to her advantage. From a young age, she was invited and paid to play at recitals on the main land, eventually growing to paid trips to play with a group of equally gifted children and orchestras. She got to know people and use their connections to make other connections in order to create opportunities for her and her family.

She loved piano and it loved her back as it created opportunities for her to grow. However, every gift has a cost and one has to be willing to pay it.

For her, it was the payment of isolation.

Through her traveling since she was five and her constant hyper fixation on what could bring her from the bottom to the top, she skipped out on what being a kid really means. Fooling around with friends never came. Going to the movies and watching back to back movies never arrived in time. Creating lifelong friendships never had it's destination called.

The piano prodigy never built friendships and soon decided she couldn't have them.

The few times that she did try and create them, she was met with peculiar stares and judgmental glares. No one truly knew her, so why should they let her get to know them? Those from the Cut became jealous that she had a one-way ticket to Figure Eight and those from Figure Eight only saw a girl from the Cut who got lucky enough to climb up the social ladder, but she'd always be from the other side of town. She had her foot in both worlds, but was rejected from both.

Too much of a pogue to belong on Figure Eight and too much of a rising-kook to belong on the Cut.

Sure she had a few people who she'd say hi to, share the homework with, sit in class with, text to see how they're doing and happy birthday to, but never anyone to truly fit in with.

That was until she met Sarah.

Sarah Cameron was a kook. She was one of the kookiest-kooks that the prodigy ever got to know, but she soon took the title as best friend. The day they met was when they were thirteen - around eight to nine years after she began performing on Figure Eight for charity events and some other events that could be related to Midsummers. She had just played and decided to go hide in the hallways of the country club so that no one would bombard her. Her mom was off chatting with some adult that would hire her to play for a private party. She was enjoying the new-found life that she was being provided by her thirteen year old daughter. The prodigy couldn't blame her - with the money she was earning and even with the amount taken to be put into her savings account, they were on track to move to Figure Eight by the time she's seventeen.

And just as she had sat down, there was the sound of footsteps hitting the floor. Hard. As if they were running. She turned her head and saw a girl, around her age, who came dashing down the hall, grabbing the prodigy's hand, pulling her down the hall with her. She had no clue what was going on, but she ran. As they dodged party goers in the lower level hallways and staircase, she found herself laughing with the dirty blonde girl.

Soon they were near the beach and laid flat on the sand. Their breaths were hard and rapid, but laughs soon came out. Her name was Sarah Cameron and she had been running from her older brother, Rafe, because she had messed with his hair one too many times that day. Thankfully, he stopped chasing the moment she had pulled the prodigy up from the floor and with her. After that, the two girls chatted on the beach. Although she didn't know much about gossip, people or fashion choices, Sarah was friendly, open and accepting of the piano prodigy.

She even wanted to know what it was like being a piano prodigy at such as young age. Sarah said it sounded lonely and for once, she brought herself to agree with her.

And after that Sarah decided that her new friend would never be alone again.

Skip three years later and the two sat together by the pool on a Saturday afternoon, the sun going down earlier than usual, and listened to each other. Unfortunately the money that had been and was being collected by her recitals wasn't enough for her to go to the Kook Academy, so she went to the general high school, away from Sarah. With their school work and outside hangouts and recitals, they only hung out in person every weekend and the occasional weekday, but they were always texting and facetiming.

And there was something constant in all of their calls since they began high school.

She huffed, kicking the water, "All the time. He always has be in that room, opening a can, commenting on my song selection, making paper airplanes and throwing them around the room or talking his ass off. I can't stand him sometimes."

"So I've heard." Sarah chuckled. "I can't believe he hasn't given up yet. It's what? Almost junior year?"

"Yeah." The pianist grumbled, "And nothing I do gets him to leave when I need him. Yesterday, he told me my song choice was depressing and boring. Beethoven is one of the greatest composers to ever exist. I should have thrown him out of the music room the moment he said that. Heck! My middle name is Elise, like Fur Elise. Beethoven's music is phenomenal. What does he know about classical music?"

Sarah almost laughed, "Nothing. Trust me. He listens to music with John B when they're fixing up the Druthers. It's all rock, rap and old school music like Fleetwood Mac or Billy Idol." She grabbed her cup of soda from her side, "Why don't you just tell on him or something?"

"Tried that." She admitted, "Freshman year. He got detention and came back with even more fervor than before. It's like it fueled him to be even more annoying. After that, I just decided to not add fuel to the flame." Part of that was true.

Maybe she liked him around sometimes.

"Well there is the other theory."

The girl's head whipped in the blonde's direction, "You're still on that?"

She shrugged, "Hey, it's classic textbook for boys. Annoy the person you like in order to get their attention. It may be unwarranted and may have undesirable outcomes, but hey, they get your eyes on them." She tapped her best friend's shoulder, "And JJ is a person who likes attention, especially from girls. You go against that. You focus on your work and work only."

"Yeah well," She grabbed Sarah's cup, taking a sip, "he's not gonna get it from me. That's for sure. I'll just lock the door again." She handed back the cup, "And on an unrelated note, I have my recital next month and I need you to RSV-"

"Done."

"Great. I'm still trying to decide on a few songs. I know I'm going to play a piece from Beethoven, but they've been telling me that original pieces would attract more of an audience. They're trying to get me more into originals than ever now. I have a few, but I'm not so sure. I'll send you some pieces for some feedback. I also need an outfit-"

Sarah listened to her best friend chatter about her recital. It would be on the mainland and it'd be one of her biggest yet. And while she was happy for her, her mind wandered back to JJ Maybank's constant desire for attention. Even if she didn't admit it, she knew that her friend liked the attention she got from the boy. If she really didn't want him around, she would have already found a way to keep him away. She would have gotten him suspended or had his schedule changed so that they never crossed paths again. Maybe the attention did annoy her at some moments, especially, when she needed to practice, but during their art and history classes (which they had together) she didn't seem to mind it, due to her lack of complaining. If Sarah knew it, she knew that JJ definitely knew it too. And maybe that was why he kept going. She never truly pushed him away, more so keeping him on a thin line that he couldn't push forward. Like a piece of music that she had written down, but never played.

If anything, Sarah suspected that it wasn't only JJ who had a crush.

But that was just her opinion.

And Sarah Cameron was usually right.

She may have been right this time.

◇ ◇ ◇

Another week, another tug of war game between the pianist and surfer boy. It was a beautiful spring, almost summer, morning - school was almost at its end and she was dying for school to end. No more distractions. More time to rehearse for her recital. It was the next month, as she had told Sarah, but she was getting more jittery as the days passed. According to her manager, Margie, this was going to be her highest paying recital yet. More of an audience. More expectations. And the more she got, the more popular she became. She was already being recognized nationwide and they wanted to extend it internationally. Margie was trying to get some British, French and Spanish reps to come and if they did, it could extend an invitation to come schools with scholarships - just as Juilliard did - and maybe paid trips to perform. Even if they didn't, people from California and New York were coming down to see her perform solo. It was only a fifteen minute time slot at the end, but her body was beginning to recognize how much she needed to succeed and she felt her anxiety levels beginning to rise.

And JJ Maybank interruptions were not helping. And his last comment on her music taste and his song suggestion (a song by Alt J?) actually had her consider throwing him out of the room. He wasn't particularly annoying at first, but then again it was JJ.

His attention be damned if she messed up her recital, her biggest paying one yet.

And although she could have rebutted, she didn't. There always was a pull that told her to fight, to reply and give him the reaction he wanted. It was as if they were magnets and she was either pushing and he was pulling or she was north and he was south. To forces fighting to land on top.

But she had to let it go for now.

Instead, she put away her stack of warm-up sheet music on her red folder. Red was for warm-ups, green was for classical, blue was for originals, orange for everything else and purple was for recital practice. She decided on blue because Margie kept telling her that originality sells along. That and classical music. Plus it was like writing whatever she wanted.

And a little secret of her own, she liked to sing. And she could actually do it too. But not in front of people. No way. She could play piano and let people focus on the music, while looking around the room or silently speaking, but if she sang, eyes would be on her immediately. So singing was off the table, but she found that writing lyrics that went along with music helped her write better and quicker. She'd sing in her head while playing.

She had multiple songs lined up, but she found herself focusing on one she had titled Champagne Problems. Her entire idea was based on the idea of a failed proposal and admittance that it was her fault - kind of reverse of what one would usually hear. No failed marriage. Just a failed proposal. She had some lyrics written down, but not a full song.

She played for a few moments before writing a few notes down and repeating the process for a full ten minutes. She hadn't noticed, but she had begun to hum and sing lightly under her breath. She especially liked the chorus, but she found it repetitive. Without lyrics, it wouldn't be as interesting.

Maybe I should cut it short. Just the chorus and the bridge. Short like a rejected proposal.

"What song was that?" Her ears perked up to JJ's voice, which was filled with curiosity.

Her response was instantaneous, "One you don't know."

"Nice." He quipped, turning towards her, pulling his knees into his chest, watching as she pushed a piece of hair behind her.

Surprisingly, JJ didn't speak anymore, but instead let the pianist write and mess around with her instrument. He didn't feel the need to interrupt nor did he want to interrupt. She was so concentrated. Her bottom lip was captured by her top teeth, signaling her fixation on what she doing.

"Damn it." She mumbled. It's definitely too repetitive. Maybe changin- but that wouldn't work. Would it?

"What?"

She glanced down to the boy, who was watching her, "Nothing. Just trying to figure out how to make my song less repetitive."

"You wrote a song?"

She paused her writing.

Okay, one thing to note about the pianist and JJ was that they actually talked a lot in person. Sometimes online whenever she posted on her story something about her recitals or she'd post herself playing the piano in some grand room or opera house and he'd comment or reply with some joke or quip about her getting famous or something of the sort that she'd reply back with a sarcastic or lighthearted joke. And they were frenemies (as she deemed it, she didn't know what JJ thought) but she didn't think she could trust him with something that personal, something so close to her that only few people knew. He'd probably just think it was stupid writing songs that she didn't even sing outloud.

"No." She mumbled and tried to swallow the fear that was beginning to form in her stomach.

"Huh."

"What?" She glared.

"Nothing." He shook his head, grabbing his phone and his backpack. He stood for a moment, the two of them staring at each other for a moment. Neither of them looked away and it was almost as if neither wanted to. She felt her heart quicken, mistaking it for a feeling she was all too common with, before the she looked away. "Nothing." He repeated, "Nothing, just...sounded good."

The pianist didn't say anything, only watched as he left the room, like he usually did around that time, but she felt something else biting her stomach. He was able to leave the room, glancing back at her only to see her eyes planted on him and not on the piano as she usually did.

He grinned, seeing her curiosity about his response. He winked and headed out the door.

And it was about ten minutes later when she looked back at the now closed door when she mumbled, "Thank you."

◇ ◇ ◇

As the weather turned from spring to summer, the heat came as strong as it could. The chill spring wind was being replaced with the humid Kildare summer air. Unfortunately, the Cut was victim to it as ACs didn't work, fans were old and opening windows wasn't an option most times. And you can't just go swimming in the marsh or driving to the beach at two in the morning because you're sweating in a tank top and shorts in your bed. Due to this revelation, the pianist tried to visit Sarah more often during these times - the rich loved their air conditioned homes and boats. And it was the day after her and JJ's strange moment that school was called out because t was unable to hold students due to the heatwave coming through.

Free day for the Kildare High School students.

Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for Sarah as her school had enough funding to hold over fifty ACs in the school 24 hours a day, seven days a week. However, when she woke up drenched in sweat and in desperate need to practice in a comfortable area, Sarah offered her home. Neither she, her dad, Rose, Wheezie or Rafe, who was a Senior at the prep school, would be there, but Ward Cameron welcomed the pianist into their home constantly and agreed to let her come by that day and any day she needed.

The only issue was getting there in the first place.

She had to walk due to her mom taking the car to work and couldn't call her to come get her. While they had money due to her accomplishments, there was always something happening. Either the AC wasn't working, a light went out, or anything else that happened, they had to be prepared. Always vigilante. Always checking off boxes twice.

So she had to brave the elements.

She put on a blue sports bra and white button up over it (keeping it unbutton of course) and jean shorts that were loose enough that it wouldn't bother her while walking. She grabbed her bag, remembering putting extra clothes, knowing she'd get cold in the chilled house before running out.

She hadn't made it to the bridge that separated the Cut from Figure Eight and she was drenched in sweat. Her hair was up, water nearly gone and her white button up would have been thrown into the backpack if it wasn't her only protection from the sun's devious rays. She was melting.

"Someone save me, please." She choked out, trudging through the heat. "Only you, Kildare. Only you."

A high pitched whistle hit her ears with a bang. The girl jumped back, only to see her blond boy in a van and not some stranger ready to kidnap her, "I would ask if you're delusional, but I think I have my answer."

"Jeez!" She put a hand on her heart, "You scared the crap out of me. Don't do that!"

"I can see that." He chuckled, driving slowly on the abandoned road, "What I can't see is why the hell you're out here in this heat. We're in a heatwave." He took the hat he had off his head and plotted it on her head.

She would have hit him with some sarcastic retort and tore off his hat from her head that gave her much relief, but she had no energy for it, "I need to practice. My house is crap. Heading for the Cameron's." She wiped her forehead, feeling agitated by the sweaty hair sticking to the nape of her neck. "Why are you out?"

"It's hot, sunny and the waves are perfect according to the report." JJ looked forward for a second before saying, "Get in."

"What?" She choked out, but it was out of confusion, not suspicion as it would have been if she was cognate with her mind.

"Get in." He repeated, "I'll drop you off nearby. I'm getting John B from a house job anyways."

Once it registered in her mind, she didn't reject the offer. She ran to the other side and jumped into the passenger's seat of the van, "Thank you." She wheezed out, leaning back in the seat the moment she buckled up.

"No problem." She thinks she heard him chuckle, but she couldn't be so sure at the moment.

They drove with the windows down and the breeze did miracles with her pending state. Five minutes into the drive, she was wide awake and conscious. She finished up her water and leaned back as she watched the Cut pass by. She, then, turned to JJ, and immediately noticed that he was shirtless.

Glistening tan and freckled skin with muscles flexing with every breath and spark of movement.

She shouldn't have stared for as long as she did and if you asked her about it, she'd deny it. But hell, she couldn't deny that he was attractive. With or without a shirt, but at that moment, his shirtless state was definitely affecting her more at the moment. She'd hadn't denied it in her mind that her annoying fucker that liked to interrupt practice sessions was attractive - fuck it, he was hot - but now that she was face to face with one of his attractive aspects mixed with the delusion of the heat...all rational thought was gone.

"So I was thinking." He turned his head and she pulled her face together as if she wasn't ogling him.

She snapped back into her sarcastic tone, "You do that? Never would have guessed."

"And I was thinking you could expand your music taste." He ignored her tone, "There's a whole world out there that isn't classical music that could apply to your piano playing."

"Really? This again?" She groaned. "Sorry that I'm not into whatever the heck you listen to. Piano playing is delicate, but strong in its chords."

"I have no idea what that means, but you could totally change your mojo." He replied as if he believed in what he was saying.

"I play classical and the occasional movie score. Okay?" She quipped, rolling her eyes, "It's what people want to hear. Not Metallica or Red Hot Chili Peppers."

"Nah, people want to hear music. Something with soul and meaning behind it. Not just instruments." He explained, "Do you even like what you play?"

"Of course I like what I play." The half-truth slipped out with ease, "And even if I didn't, I don't get paid to play what I like."

"But you could." He pointed out.

"No, I couldn't. When you get hired for a job, you do the job or else you get fired. I'm pretty sure you understand that."

"You don't get it." He turned up the radio. An upbeat song was playing. Michael Jackson. "If you were able to convert songs like these onto the piano, you'd have a bigger audience. I promise you that and Papa J never fails in his assumptions."

She thought for a moment, ignoring the fact that he called himself "Papa J". If she was able to convert those songs into piano themes, she would have a bigger audience. But it's not easy. There's so much practice that goes into doing things like putting Beat It into piano formation. It's not impossible, but it'd be difficult. Out of his mind, but...he wasn't wrong.

"C'mon! What'd it take you to do it?"

"Answer a question for me."

"Shoot."

"Why do you keep come into the music room to bother me? You've been extra annoying lately." Bingo. He'd never give into the question. "You tell me that, truthfully, and I'll convert any song you want into a piano ballad or something."

His eyes narrowed. JJ wasn't a guy to open up about his feelings or about the reasons he did things. He usually just did it and then thought about it later if he even thought about it again. He's impulsive. Never has a reason for anything.

"Gets me out of homeroom."

"I said truthfully." Her voice took a playful tone, which caused JJ's eyebrow to lift up, "You skip either way."

"I don't know. I never really thought about it." He shrugged. "I guess..." He shifted again. He was uncomfortable. She could see it as clear as day, "You're easy to be around."

He didn't say more.

She blinked, not able to find the confident nature she had only moments ago. He didn't answer her question correctly, but it caught her attention. She was easy to be around? Lately, she constantly glared at him, told him to shut up, and dragged him out of the room once. She wouldn't consider herself "easy" to be around even when she wasn't doing any of those things. Especially in the music room. She was her most uptight in those moments. She didn't care who she hurt as long as she got her work done. Her target was mainly JJ - and now thinking about it, she felt bad. Yes, he annoyed her, but she felt shameful of her behavior.

"Easy?" She scoffed, "I wouldn't call myself easy."

He clicked his tongue, "That's my fault." He admitted, "You're easy to get to when you're working."

"So you admit that you do it on purpose?" They stopped at a stoplight and he turned to look at her. And she knew. She just knew that he did. She also knew by his expression that he was getting a kick out of her just figuring it out, "You little shit."

"Glad to know you just picked up on that." He teased and she almost had the decency to push him out of the car, "Now what song to pick."

"You don't get a song."

"What?"

"You lied to me first."

"Oh come on!" He complained, hitting the gas again when the light turned green. "You can't take that back. I get a song."

She couldn't get over the fact that he was whining about getting a song played by her. He looked kinda cute actually.

"Fine!" She rolled her eyes. "You get one song, any song, as long as you keep your bothering to a minimum and I'm talking the most JJ minimum you can give me. Deal?" She held out her pinkie.

"Really?" He asked, almost missing how she used his name for the first time, and she nodded with a confidence that should have been hilarious in any other situation. "Deal." He wrapped his pinkie around hers. "Original."

"What artist is that by?"

"You."

She paused and deadpanned, "I don't write songs."

"Look who's lying now. You said any song, therefore I get a song by you. I already have a name for it." He put his hand out in front and moved it across the air, " "The Ballad of JJ". Upbeat. Nothing fancy. Something like Bohemian Rhapsody."

She shook her head, "Do you even know what a ballad is?"

"Sounds cool. So, why not?"

This kid will actually kill me.

"Fine. You win. "The Ballad of JJ" it is." And he smiled like he won a million dollars.

He dropped her off at the front of the house, watching her disappear into the house with his hat still attached to her head. And while she did practice, she allowed herself to begin to write for the blond boy, who wasn't so annoying today.

Or really any day.

Not that it mattered.

Right?

◇ ◇ ◇

What JJ had said bothered her.

A new audience.

She scoffed.

Based on ratings and statistics, people enjoyed classical music over anything else. Covers of pop or rock songs didn't fit the mold nor did they get high ratings. Maybe on youtube they did, but not for live concerts.

And it was like he was challenging her. Challenging her to try something new. As if she was afraid to do it. She scoffed at the thought.

Afraid?

She wasn't afraid.

She'd show him.

◇ ◇ ◇

"That was excellent!" Margie Jones clapped her hands. "Truly wonderful. I have no words other than magnificent."

Her mother joined in, "I've never heard you play something that energetic before. It's mostly mellow. Is it original?"

She nodded proudly, "Yes, it is. Got some inspiration. It's not fully done, but it's getting there."

"What's it called?" Margie asked, pulling out some files, but still with a wide grin.

She opened her mouth to reply, but the words couldn't come out. Her one piece of music that was the light of her mother and Margie's life at the moment was orchestrated because a boy had her write it. Not just any boy. JJ Maybank. Her annoying (ex-annoying) music room bother. It wasn't exactly The Ballad of JJ, just an alternate verison of it (she felt like it was personal to the point that only the two of them could hear the original),but it was similar enough to be connected to the song titled in her blue folder with his name. However, she couldn't have it leave her mouth. Weird.

"Oh, I don't know yet. Like I said, it's just coming to me in pieces, so I'll figure it out in a bit. It's just one of my originals."

"Excellent." She nodded, "More originals open more doors for your solo career without any orchestra or becoming back up for a band. More money for us." She clapped her hands, "And this is good because I got news that the scouts from France and the United Kingdom are coming."

She gasped and stood up, "Really?"

"Yes and because of this, you'll be performing for a longer bracket. I talked to the managers and everyone I needed to and they agreed that instead of a fifteen minute time slot that you'll take on an hour time slot. Thirty minutes for the first half, a ten minute break, and then your final thirty minutes. With this you'll have to do a setlist that I'll need by next Friday. We only have three more weeks."

Her heart dropped.

Her mother clapped her hands, "Wonderful. How about the pay?"

"Because she's bringing in the scouts for the entire program, not just the orchestra part, I negotiated for her to get triple for her section plus her original fee for her part in the orchestra."

As Margie and her mother spoke, they hardly noticed the sixteen year old girl sitting on the seat by the piano, turning pale by the moment. She had never done anything more than twenty minutes straight of playing. Now she has to do an hour with a set list and most likely originals that she had never tested before. Plus the orchestra. That would be two hours of straight playing.

She didn't know if she wanted to do it.

She was a performer. She had played in front of a hundred people before, but this was a concert hall in Washington D.C. Hundreds of people and staff. Now scouts for her future in music. For more time than she had been used to. With original music she had never tested. She was performer, it was her job.

But they hadn't asked her if that was what she wanted.

Her breath felt heavy and her chest began to heave. Her body didn't feel in control of anything. She hardly said anything as she excused herself to the bathroom. She closed her eyes as she slid down the luxurious bathroom wall and tried to level her breathing. She flexed her hands back and forth, trying to stop the shaking.

She was a performer. She had to do this. She had to do more. She had to take the job. She couldn't say no. She was a performer. Performing was what she did. It was her job. Her future. She couldn't say no. She had to for the money. A better life. More for her mother. More for her. She couldn't say no.

But she really really wanted to.

◇ ◇ ◇

That weekend, she stayed as close to Sarah as she could. Distracting herself from the reality that she would have to do something that was holding her heart down. She didn't understand it. So she ignored it.

A tale as old as time.

Sarah sensed something wrong, but didn't say anything. She knew she'd come around eventually and she'd give her space until then. So, she suggested that they go to the beach and get acai bowls at the Playa Bowls nearby.

The two girls walked arm in arm and got their bowls and sat by the docks, watching early tourons and kooks and pogues alike spend their Saturday with their friends or family. From the docks, she watched people surf on the waves as if it was second nature.

She didn't know how to surf - another downside of piano being your life - but she liked watching it. She found it interesting how people were able to move their bodies in a way that allowed them to move with the ocean's ripples. She believed it was similar to how her fingers meshed with the keys of a piano and became one with the instrument. However, that was only one part of her body. Surfing was control over the entire body to not go flailing around. She admired the people who could do it.

Sarah chatted to her as she nodded along and allowed her to speak. She felt like she was in 2nd grade again when she hardly ever spoke. She only spoke when she had something she needed to say, but no coaxing would get her to open her mouth. It wasn't until around middle school that she started speaking full sentences to people. Even then, she was only chatty around people she was comfortable around such as Sarah Cameron or her mother. And she only wanted to listen that day anyways.

And as she watched the waves, she noticed one person surfing as if his life depended on it. Flips and turns and going through waves and making it to the end. She began to observe him up until he came up to the beach. That was when she noted who it was.

She turned her head before he could spot her, but she heard a classic high pitched whistle. She turned back and noticed JJ, staring right at her with his hand lifted in a hello. She couldn't help, but smile and wave. His friends, who she recognized as John B and Pope Heyward, turned to her as they began to nudge JJ around, teasing him. He swatted them away.

A nudged on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned to Sarah.

"What?" She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Oh Schroder." She teased, "Don't leave Lucy hanging by the piano all day."

"What are you on about?"

"Gonna play dumb? Okay, Schroder, I'll play Linus." She put her finger up, closing her eyes as if she were the comic character, "'No problem is so big or so complicated that you have to run away from it.'" She opened her eyes, "Running away isn't the answer even if you think it's yours. I should know. I do it a lot."

"I'm not running away." She took another bite from her bowl. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Okay." She hummed, "But don't be surprised when Lucy decides to stop waiting by the piano and goes out to become a psychiatrist that you meet in twenty years wondering "what if"."

"What in the actual hell are we talking about now?"

◇ ◇ ◇

She didn't hear her alarm. Two weeks had flown past her like sand falling out of her dry hand and she had been pushing herself everyday to practice playing nonstop. Finishing a handful of originals and practicing complex songs that made her hands cramp from how much she pushed. Staying up late nights was all too common for her. Missing her bus and a ride from her mom was not.

Everyone looked up at her when she entered the door. She feels like she came to school with no pants and mix and match shoes by the way everyone looks at her. Miss Prodigy is never late, never tardy, never disheveled, never not perfect. This was a sight: her hair was brushed, but was covered by a red hat, the bags under her eyes could carry bricks, her shirt collar was half up, her socks were different colors and her shoe laces were untied.

"Sorry." She mumbled to her history professor, handing the pass that the office lady had signed with the same amount of shock.

She walked to her seat and sat down, taking out her textbook and notebook. The shock had passed and whispers ensued as the class continued. She noticed the stares, but she just fixed her collar and payed attention to the lesson. It wasn't as if the other ten of them didn't come in late every other day in worse conditions.

From behind her, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned slightly to her left and saw JJ quickly passing a note to her. He sat in the next row but two seats behind her. She grabbed it and turned back around before opening it discreetly.

Didn't know prodigies came in late. Sounds like a crime. You look like crap also.

She scoffed lightly before grabbing her pen and scribbling down her response before tossing it over without so much as a whisper. And it just kept getting passed back and forth.

You sure do think of me a lot to know it's a crime. And yeah I know I look like crap. Thanks, Lucy Shit I didn't mean it like that. Like you look tired. You know like the little alien in Lilo and Stich? I have so many questions, but do you mean Stitch? I know I'm shorter than you, but you don't have to stoop to that level. You just called me Lucy from the fuckin Peanuts comics so I think it's fair game You've called me "Schroeder" since freshmen year. I think it's bound time I respond correctly. I've been scattered brained lately. Can't remember to hold my tongue. Oops Or wear your own clothes. Nice hat. Where'd you get it?

She touched her head, pulling down the hat that she had grabbed from her desk only to realize who's it was. She heard him chuckle behind her and she put up the bird in the air, waving it in his direction, not daring to look at him.

The bell rang within the next ten seconds, signaling for her next period, which she knew she was going to skip. She packed up her items and before she could head for the door, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Truly amazing fashion choice. You get it at a boutique or something?"

"Ha ha. Very funny." She rolled her eyes, "I would give it back to you, but my hair did not cooperate this morning so I will be keeping it at the moment."

"Looks good on you. Not better than me, but close enough." He said as they walked out of class together.

It was a stupid compliment, and he was teasing her, but she still felt the apples of her cheeks begin to burn and she rolled her eyes, shoving him slightly with her shoulder, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get to class."

"We both have art next." He pointed out with his thumb at the classroom door.

"Not me." She sang before heading down the hall to the stairs towards the first floor. The sound of hard boots followed her, "Class, Maybank."

"I'm good." He shrugged, "Where we going?"

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't command him away. In fact, she couldn't bring herself to even if she needed him gone. Something about his presence lately had been calming to her, even if he was as calm as a hurricane. She'd felt in the car the previous week, when she saw him at the beach that weekend and even now as her anxiety began to peak for being late.

He made her feel like everything would actually be alright. (It confused her for a moment before she shook it off).

"Music room. I need to practice." She said, taking a moment to yawn. She covered her mouth, "A lot of practice."

"You keep saying that. What the hell's got so much of your attention?" She noticed his tone, but kept her observation to herself.

"Recital. Big one."

"And?"

She sighed, "Recitals make me money. I get a lot from it. I play with the Virginia Orchestra and they have their annual recital event. Because I'm part of it, a lot of people come. Some from New York. Others from Los Angeles and other places. It's a big deal." She pulled the music room key out of her pocket, "I got news that some scouts from Europe are coming to see me. It's next week, so pressure's on."

"That's amazing." He complimented as she swung the door open.

"Thank you." She shrugged as she headed for the stage, "It's just that I have a bigger time slot now so-" She didn't finish her sentence as she dropped her bag and began to pull out her blue folder.

"You don't seem so happy about it." He grabbed a chair that was on the stage already and pulled it so it was right next to her. "Don't you like playing?"

She nodded, "I do. It's everything to me." She pulled out her pens, "I just never played for two hours straight before. It's new."

"Hours?" He blinked, whistling lowly at the thought of playing piano for hours.

"I play for an hour with the orchestra and then an hour solo." Candor began to spew from her mouth, "I've never played solo for an hour in front of scouts before."

He didn't speak for a moment and she glanced at him. He nodded slowly, as if he began to understand why she was killing herself the past month. Why she stopped joking more and more with him and began to be stricter and cold to him. She was nervous.

"No wonder you've been such a buzzkill." He laughed, "You're anxious."

"I guess," She fiddled with her hands, "I'm not nervous. It's more like a feeling that I can't do it and that I'll disappoint everyone if I'm not shiny enough." She couldn't control her mouth. It just came out. She had told some of it to Sarah, but nothing like she was now, "I'm the main income in my home and now this is paying triple for my set, which could get us closer to getting out of the Cut, but-" She laughed, but it was more pained, "And I would have done it either way, but they never asked me. Just threw it in my face and I think I sound like an ungrateful brat for saying that because these scouts could eventually be my ticket to some great music school or job in the future. I just...wanted to be asked for once." She looked up at JJ, who had gone quiet. She blinked and sat up straight, turning back to her music, "Sorry. I'm ranting."

JJ reached out, hesitantly, but put his hand on her shoulder, "It's okay to be anxious and like so much is on you. It is. You don't have to apologize. And you're the artist. They should have asked you."

She looked at him with appreciation. A thought sparked her mind and she turned to the folder, "Oh, um, I have your song. Well part of it."

"Oh?" He leaned forward, seeing lines and song notes both scribbled and written over. The Ballad of JJ was written at the top of it, "How's it coming?"

"Halfway done. I just need to figure out the ending."

"Play it. The muse needs to know what's being created." She rolled her eyes at him, but complied. She had been able to get through the entire half she had before he spoke again, "I like the whole crashing part."

"The what?"

"The way the playing gets loud and wild, I mean. I don't know how to speak music."

She laughed, "You're a wildcard, Maybank. If it was about you, might as well get loud." He paused, but she hadn't noticed, "Now I'm thinking for it to start off loud and maybe end loudly, but I'm not so sure. Maybe it can mellow out or-"

JJ only nodded, feeling a smile creep up his face. He reached out and pulled his hat, that was on her head, down so that it covered her face. She pushed it back up, shoving his shoulder before smiling and going back to writing music.

And there it was.

Air shifted.

Something was changing.

Maybe their frenemies ways were turning more friendly than they both expected.

◇ ◇ ◇

Within that week, whenever she could, the pianist would sneak off to the music room, hoping to pack more and more time into her playing. And more and more she did, JJ Maybank followed. He'd come in, less distracting than usual after she had told him about the important recital. and sit down next to her on a separate chair or lay on the floor. He would comment here or there, but he left her be for the most part. When she wasn't looking, she could feel him staring at her. She'd then hit him with her foot or glare at him and he'd just laugh and the cycle would repeat.

And then there were moments where she wasn't sure if she should be feeling the way she did.

The moments where time would stand still as they stared at each other. His blue eyes meeting hers and the small smile she'd give him as he brushed his hair out of his eyes and smirk. The moments where she'd take her eyes off her sheet music to stretch her hand and catch JJ's puppy-like eyes following her every move. The moments where she'd pack up and he'd hand her the sheet music and their fingers would touch ever so slightly, making her heart jump a few octaves.

There was one day that week when he brought her a Monster, saying that it'd give her energy like him. She didn't think he needed any energy drink to be the way he was. He was high off of life. She drank it and by the end, she was practically running around the room. The jitters left her and she was just left with the energy rush. She said out loud that it actually helped.

"If you think that's helping, just wait for weed. Bring you right up."

She hadn't been big on drugs or usage because she needed to focus, but she thought that maybe it would be a good idea to try for some creative juices. She held it off until after the recital though. She didn't need some sickness to hit her. She didn't know if weed even caused sickness, but she wasn't going to risk it. The two made plans to smoke together after her recital - weirdly enough she trusted JJ to be the person she smoked with for the first time.

JJ also helped with his ballad. He helped her navigate what he wanted in the song and she was nearing to finish it. (A part of herself was nervous if he would like it).

She didn't know if she should have done it, but had asked Margie was an extra pit ticket. She didn't know why. It was for a friend? She didn't tell JJ.

It was Friday when Sarah decided the pianist could use some fun. She would have rejected the offer, but the recital wasn't until that following Monday. And according to JJ, she deserved a break. So, she (surprisingly) said yes to the kegger that was being thrown on the beach. Sarah had personally taken care of the outfit - a white tube top and colorful skirt that fell to her knees. Sarah dressed similarly in order to have her more comfortable and also because it got desperately hot during the day.

The two girls made their way to the beach by foot and made it around sunset. The girls stayed together the entire night, drinking from cans instead of solo cups, and chatting on pieces of wood. Kooks and pogues alike were there - it wasn't touron season yet, so it was just Kildare kids. No trouble was stirring up, so it was calm as people drank and smoked whatever they had on them before passing it on to their friends. Girls and boys chatted each other up, some couples fought at the farther end of the beach, some made out near the fire that was starting up while others swam in the ocean or sat with their friends.

At some points, people would say hi and boys would come up and chat up the two of them. Sarah was more likely to entertain than the prodigy ever would. She didn't like their dark hair and dark eyes or the way they would try and shoot out jokes. She just watched the ocean, seemingly ignoring them. Soon enough, a kook from Sarah's school - his name was Topper which was weird as hell - and by the way he sat by Sarah, he was there to stay.

"I'm gonna get another drink." She said and Sarah nodded while the boy chatted her up. Sarah nodded and said if anything, she'd come running.

She walked to the coolers, where closed drinks were. She wasn't stupid enough to take from the "punch" bowl or 2 liter soda bottles that had been opened. She neared the coolers, noting that many of them had water in them.

"Hey!" Someone called out her name and she turned her head, seeing John B Routledge calling out to her. She walked over, "What's up, Miss Prodigy?"

Oh he was tipsy. Not fully drunk, but he was getting there based on his loud volume.

"Hey John B." She chuckled slightly. "I'm doing good. How's it going?"

"Not bad, not bad." He raised a tap he had in his hand, "Want one?"

It is closed, she thought. And one isn't bad. Right?

She nodded and John B filled up a red solo cup half way before tossing it over to her. It was mainly foam and however bitter it was, its coldness soothed her.

"So uh, how's you and J?"

"What do you mean?" She wiped her mouth with her wrist and looked at the boy. She gestured for more beer, the coolness had filled her dry throat and warmed her stomach.

"I mean, I'm surprised you were able to tie the man down. He talks nonstop about you as if his life depended on it." He said. She had a feeling that JJ didn't know that he was saying that, "So you two are like-" He put his hands together and before he could continue, she shook her hands.

"Oh, no. Me and J...we're not like that." She chuckled nervously, "J's a good friend, but he doesn'-he would never- I mean you know." She drank more, hoping it would help more. She wasn't stupid to the insinuation, so she looked up, "Umm, does it look like that?"

John B rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly growing nervous, "I mean, yeah. Especially with these last few days. You two are always together at school."

She thought for a second. Maybe...

"Well, I didn't mean to make it awkward or anythi-"

She waved her hand off, "Don't worry about it. Sarah's called him Lucy one too many times for me to not notice." She surprised herself with the candor.

"Lucy?"

"You know. Schroeder and Lucy? The Charlie Brown comics?"

John B laughed loudly, "I can't get that out of my head now. I have a new nickname for him. I can totally see him in the little blue dress, and waving his feet in the air and-" He kept laughing, "Thank you seriously. He won't get me to shut up."

"Glad to be of service. He's annoyed me one too many times." She finished the cup, "Is he here?"

"Uhhh yeah. He's somewhere over by the fire."

"Hmm." She placed the cup in the trash by the tables, "I'll pay Lucy a visit."

"Go get em', Tiger."

She threw a thumbs up and walked closer to the fire.

Okay, she wasn't dumb. She knew what John B was saying and what Sarah was saying with the Lucy comments. She knew how it looked and before it would have inconvenienced her, maybe made her mad, but it didn't. In fact, it excited her. Could it be that JJ liked her? Like really? A boy she may possible totally liked actually liked her back? I mean, she's had boys who liked her before, but they weren't anything like JJ. He was funny, charming, annoying and a total nuisance at times, but she always liked it.

At a kegger in the middle of the night, searching for the boy who had captured her heart, she came to terms with what she had been hiding for over a year.

With a mind that was not sober, in fact tipsy from her lack of consumption in the past, she decided that she'd tell JJ. She'd tell JJ that she was sorry if she ever made him feel unwanted in the music room because she wanted him there. She wanted him to come and annoy her and tell her what he thought of her playing, of her original pieces. She wanted to teach him about Beethoven, Chopin and Brahms and listen to his song recommendations. Maybe he'd teach her how to surf. Maybe he'd want to go to her recital. She had a ticket prepared for him like she had for Sarah. She could play his ballad. She'd tell him how she wanted to him that summer coming up because then she'd get to know more about him - filling her brain with more about him because he made her feel like she wasn't just a prodigy or someone who only played piano. He made her feel like she was human, like she was girl who had more. She'd tell him that she liked him more than just a friend. She'd tell him that she wanted to be with him if he'd have her.

And he had given her all the signs, so she wasn't saying it out of the blue. He had stared at her. Carried her bag. Didn't mind that she still had his hat. Was considerate of her. Made her laugh. It all pointed to one conclusion. Just like Sarah had said. There was one theory as to why he always bothered her and in the middle of the night, during a kegger, with people talking and a fire burning, she decided that it was one she'd consider.

Maybe JJ Maybank liked her. She wouldn't know unless she asked.

But she knew.

The piano prodigy liked JJ Maybank.

And maybe he'd like her too.

She had made it to the fire when she spotted a glimpse of blond hair. Her heart picked up a beat as she came closer, only for it to drop to her stomach when she saw what he was doing. Another girl, who she had known as a pogue and lived on the Southside, was touching his shoulder and he brushed his hand against her hair. He was staring at her like he had stared at her that morning. He leaned forward, saying something in her ear, causing her giggle and shove him a little

It was a tiny thing. Miniscule. She still could have gone up to him and told him and maybe the night's ending would have been different. But it made her blood boil. He had always given her attention, but she hadn't considered that he gave other girls the same attention as well. She had heard about JJ Maybank's notorious history with girls - his endless list of makeout sessions that girls swooned over, his mysterious hookups and his knack for making girls fall to his feet. She hadn't judged him because everyone had their "things" that they did, whether proud or not.

But if she wasn't the only one he was giving attention to, who else was there?

Yes, the green jealousy monster came to haunt her. Maybe it wasn't fair. She hadn't been interested before, but she had shown signs too. RIGHT? She had stared back and laughed and flirted a little without her knowing. She wrote him a song! But he was there, with another girl, touching her, laughing with her and he would probably kiss her by the end of the night.

JJ had said before that her music was sad and depressing and emotional. That's because the composers were. Artists, writers, composers, poets and the like were tied to emotions. It was how the most heart wrenching, beautiful and one of a kind art was made. How Shakespeare wrote about doomed romances. How Beethoven wrote Fur Elise. How Van Gogh painted with such originality. How Louisa Mae Alcott wrote a story about four sisters. How Taylor Swift wrote in a way that made poetry come to life through music. How she wrote songs.

And as a pianist, she agreed.

She was emotional.

She was strung by her emotions constantly. It was why she responded angrily when JJ bothered her. Why she cried in the bathroom when she felt used and ignored. Why she spiraled when she felt anxious. Why she tried to ignore her feelings in the first place because when she was emotionally attached, she hyper fixated.

Her emotions controlled her.

And it was why she turned around and let the tracks in the sand be the only proof that she was ever there.

Whatever confidence, whatever hope, whatever beautiful thing she had felt for the boy was shattered like a chandelier falling from a ten story building. The pieces, whatever was left, would be hidden in the back corners of her mind, collecting dust for the rest of eternity.

Her sober mind knew that it probably wasn't completely fair for her to get angry. It wasn't like they "talked" or flirted outright or kissed or anything of the sort. He had a right to go off and be with who he wanted. He wasn't tied to anyone.

But it didn't stop her from feeling the way she did.

She was angry. First at JJ for being with someone else. For making her feel like she had been led on. For making her distracted. For filling her up with hope. For giving her attention that she thought was only hers. For making her feel like she had a piece of him that no one else did.

She was angry. Secondly, at herself. For allowing herself to get distracted when her music was what she needed to focus on. For allowing her mind to be filled with teenage ideas of love and boys. For believing that someone actually liked her for her. For thinking that JJ may have been hers.

She was stupid to think those things. Irrational. Irresponsible.

She walked away from the party, walking down to the Cameron's home to get her bag that she had left. The streetlights were the only thing lighting her path and it was there that she felt the first tears of anger fall onto her cheeks.

It wasn't fair to him. For her to be angry for something he didn't know he did.

But she really wanted to believe that he liked her and her only.

So on the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, alone, the pianist cried out into the dark for a boy that she held close to her heart. She would allow herself to cry once and once only.

Before stuffing it in the farthest corner of her hardened heart, locking it away forever.

◇ ◇ ◇

He's liked her since they were in elementary school. Truthfully, he never looked at girls until he was in middle school. Boys thought girls were icky and girls thought boys were gross, but there was always something about her that intrigued him. She was the quiet one, sat in the back, never talked to anyone and usually ate lunch alone on the field they had. That was if she was there. Out of the 250-ish days of school, she had been there less than 100 of them.

Piano prodigy they called her. Girl with a gift. Marvelous. A wonder. A bunch of words that he knew a lot of his classmates got jealous of. Even him at one point. All because she could touch keys in order to make music.

She was hardly ever there - always on Figure Eight, on the mainland, in New York, Washington D.C or any other place that required her presence. But when she was there, it was as if she was a ghost. No one talked to her. If they ever looked at her, it was with jealous envy.

He didn't know why he liked her so much.

The one time she spoke to him, it was during the one rare moment when they had to work in pairs for music class. They got to choose their pairs and while he would usually pair with his new best friend of 2nd grade, John B. Routledge, he made a beeline to the pianist. She looked at him, tilting her head, as he asked if she wanted to be partners. She merely nodded his head and let him pull up a seat next to her desk. It was music class and anyone else, even John B who had paired with the new kid named Pope, thought he was in it for an easy 'A' as did anyone who was partners with her. The pairing up was to help each other with piano playing on the little keyboards.

She had been flawless with her rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star", but he had been a mess of a player. Wrong key every two notes and wrong note every key. He semi-expected her to laugh at him, but she didn't. Instead, she stood behind him and put his hands on the keys and guided him through the motions. She never said anything, only used her hands to help him. It took a whole class period, but he was able to do the lullaby as easily as she did by the end. He shyly thanked her, although he didn't know because he was never shy about anything as a kid. She nodded and while they waited in line to go to lunch, he kept on yapping.

He eventually figured out why he kept talking, but at that time, he was oblivious. He eventually said that he probably won't be a pianist like her when he's older since he's too hyperactive to be sitting down playing songs. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw her smile.

"You're a wildcard, JJ."

The class was led out of the room and before JJ could ask her what she meant by that, John B caught up with him and was pulling along the new kid with him.

A wildcard. Something with unpredictable behavior. Uncontrollable. Unkempt. Wild.

They never really talked after that incident, but he always watched her. In class. When they passed by in the halls. When she played at their 5th grade recital. The middle school play rehearsals. Their short interactions around Kildare. When she was on the news. She was always somewhere and anywhere she was, it caught his attention whether he wanted to pay attention or not. Always a thought in the back of his mind.

As he got older, he hated that she had some hold on him. She didn't do anything and neither did he, but he just liked her. Her. Her work ethic. How she found a way for herself. How she practiced day and night to get better and better. Her confidence in what she did. Her concentration. He liked her because she was just her and unapologetically so.

And when high school came around and she began to attend school more often, he found himself in the music room, escaping his pre-algebra class when found her there. The more he skipped some classes, he would escape to the otherwise empty music room. She was there for her first periods and her last periods. So he sometimes found himself in the room with one other person occupying it. The first time, he sat in the back as she practiced. If she saw him, she didn't say anything. The second and third time, he sat closer - seeing if she would say something. She merely glanced at him while fixing her sheet music and continued with her practice. Nothing moved her. Nothing shook her. She was still and commanded with everything she did.

And eventually he began to make some noise. Open a can of Monster. Take leftover sheet music and make paper airplanes that landed on or around her. He even blew a trumpet once. She never said anything, only glared and handed him the airplanes back, pointing her index finger to the back of the class. The more he seemed to bother, the more attention he got from her. The more she looked at him with her focused eyes, the more he wanted them on him.

And eventually, she became more vocal with her dislike and her annoyance. She'd tell him not to do something and he noted that when he began to push her, she pushed back. Soon their bickering became a common thing to do.

At first, he had to admit that he was trying to get her to dislike him, so that whatever little crush he had on her would disappear as her dislike grew. He wanted her to look at him with malice that maybe he'd grow some too. But instead, it had the opposite effect on him. Her dislike grew, but his crush only grew. Whether he bothered her or not, she never told on him (only that one time at the beginning of Freshman year) and used her words instead of her fists to tell him to stop bothering. And he did. Usually. By the time of the beginning of Sophomore year, he had accepted that he did like the pianist.

He liked her a lot.

He liked her hair and how she fiddled with it when she grew restless or anxious. How her short fingers moved across keys and flexed ever so delicately. How her eyes were as expressive as her face. Her shorter figure that always demanded she look up to him when she spoke. The smiles that told him that she enjoyed being with him. Her hands too. Delicate and soft.

Oh yeah, he liked her a lot.

But now her resentment had grown into a full grown hate and he didn't blame her for any of it. He didn't even have to speak for her to glare at him. So he toned it down. Only making playful remarks with some sarcastic crack at her and it seemed to work. She was less aggressive with him and he even caught her smirking a few times. He'd made the rare notion of messing with her outside of class, but he wasn't met with the harsh stare or tongue of malice, but instead with a similar joke or a narrow of playful eyes. He swore he even saw her look at him a few times during history and art.

But now came the interesting million dollar question.

What now?

He liked her. He was sure that maybe she felt the same way, but then the doubt sinked in. What would she have with him? She was future a pianist in some famous band or orchestra or would become a solo artist or whatever in New York or D.C or heck, even in the United Kingdom or France. She was destined for more.

And him?

Some punk from the Cut who never had more than fifty bucks in his pocket. Wasting his life away at keggers, fights, weed and barely passing his classes. He'd go out with almost every girl who caught his eye. He'd never been in a committed relationship. He didn't even know if he wanted that. He didn't go out with girls to forget her because he wasn't a boy waiting for a girl. But that wasn't the full truth. He couldn't forget her because she had made her mark. She had imprinted herself like a golden tan on his mind - forever a reminder that there was some amazing girl out there that liked Beethoven and Mozart, who enjoyed drinking iced matchas with almond milk and writing music, who could push back as much as you pushes her, who had a confidence that others would pay for, who shined like a bright star whenever she played. She was everything he wasn't.

So, what would she have with him?

Easy.

Nothing.

She would never look at him the way John B said he looked at her. She would never willingly want to hold his hand or spend every waking moment with him or go to the beach to watch him surf or spend time listening to him talk about fishing or surfing or rock music.

That was the thing of dreams.

So he went out with other girls. He continued on with his life as if she hadn't completely flipped it around.

But then things began to change within that last month. She was more playful, nicer even to him. She still had the ability to give him hell if she wanted to and if he decided to push, she'd push back. But their friendship grew and flourished. All because he finally let his guard down and allowed her to drop hers without judgment. She responded to him as much as he responded to her.

So, he knew that if he shook the boat too hard, she'd obliterate it.

They were similar that way.

But she wanted him around. She even complied with writing The Ballad of JJ. She called him "wildcard" as she had done before as a kid. She smiled at his with a kind of sparkle that almost made him kill her in order to feel it. And for once, he had hope, but what was hope if, again, she was destined for the stars and he was stuck on Kildare just like his old man and every man in his family beforehand?

If he tried hard enough, maybe he could deserve her.

Or maybe he would never and he would merely be a song that she wrote as she went off into the world.

Either way, he was done waiting.

He decided that at a kegger he went to. He was sitting with a girl he knew from school, flirting and talking, when he realized he didn't want to do that. The pianist was plaguing his mind and all he thought about as he flirted and touched the girl's hair is how much he wanted to be with her. Did she like keggers? He never saw her at them? What would she wear? Did she drink? Does she like dancing?

Questions that went round and round when he stopped and realized what he had to do.

He was done waiting.

Because it was stupid. Waiting. Hoping. He was a doer. If he got rejected, that was it. He would live. He would go on with his life. He wasn't going to keep pining. If he ruined a friendship, well, he's ruined worst things.

It was stupid to tell her how he felt. It was stupid to ask her out. It was stupid to believe that she would say yes.

However, he believed in his personal philosophy.

Stupid things have good outcomes all the time.

◇ ◇ ◇

He just hadn't realized how stupid he had been

◇ ◇ ◇

It was Sunday, the day before the recital and she's determined to avoid JJ at all costs after Friday night. She had told Sarah about what happened and she immediately told her to come over. She offered to pick her up, but she just wanted to walk. To think. To find closure within. She semi-regretted it as the June sun began to beat on her.

She believed the world hated her because she would have never believed that she would have run into the very boy she was trying to avoid on the day after he accidentally fractured her heart. She was walking, ten minutes away from the Camerons, when she heard her name being called followed by a short but hight pitched whistle.

Driving the same van as before (which she know knew as the "Twinkie" as John B called it) JJ Maybank slowed down his driving near the girl he had caught feelings for.

"Hey, what you doin'?" He asked with a cheeky smile.

"Walking," She replied, her tone mimicking the same unimpressed one she had at the beginning of May when JJ came around to the music room.

"I can see that. Very nice walking." When she didn't respond, he cleared his throat, "So uh, where you going?"

"Camerons."

"Cool." He cleared his throat awkwardly. The one word answers were not normal after their week of delight. "Is everything okay?"

"Peachy." She folded her arms and kept walking, never putting her eyes on him.

Shit, JJ thought. If she was pissed off, he couldn't ask her out. And if she was pissed off, there was something wrong. So, he made a risky move and quickly (and illegally) parked the car and ran up to her. His hand caught her arm and she turned around, pulling her arm out of his grasp as if he had burned her.

"What?" She asked.

"What's wrong? You can tell me if something is wrong." He reminded, "We're friends." He winced internally. Probably not the best phrase to say as he's about to ask her out, "Is it the recital?"

"Friends." She mocked and turned back around.

He didn't relent and decided to push, "What's wrong with you?"

"A lot of things. Thanks for the reminder." She chuckled dryly before digging her hand in her tote bag, "Oh and here." She tossed it to his hands.

He caught the item, noticing that it was his hat. He furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding.

"It's yours." He said, falling into pace with her, handing it back, but her hand pushed back.

"It's yours. I don't want it."

"Wait, wait, wait." He finally stood in front of her, blocking her path. "What's happening? Did I miss something?"

"Nothing. Just giving you your hat back." She tried to move to the side, but he blocked it with his body.

"No, no. You're doing something else."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No!"

"Yes!" He shouted back.

"Fine!" She relented. "I don't want to see you. I don't want you around. I don't want your hat. I don't want you in the music room. I don't want you near me. Okay? Okay." She shoved him to the side, but before she could even take a step, he grabbed her bicep and pulled her close, close enough that she could smell sea salt and smoke on him.

"What the hell are you saying?"

"I was stupid enough to actually believe that you liked me, but I guess you like every single girl on the damn island." She tried to pull out his grasp, but he held on tighter. It didn't hurt, but her heart did.

"I d-"

"If you did, you wouldn't have been with that girl at the kegger. If you did, you would have said something by now. You can go out and be with as many others as you want but you don't have enough interest to tell me?" She scoffed, "You've distracted me enough. You made me feel so stupid for thinking that you liked me and I was even more stupid for thinking I liked you back." She tugged at her arm, but JJ was like a statue, staring with his mouth parting. "I don't have time for you and I don't want to make time for you anymo-"

It happened quickly.

She almost didn't process what he was doing when he did it until she was doing it with him.

His mouth fell onto hers as his other hand pulled her in by her waist. His hand fell from her bicep and instead cupped the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair as he kissed her. He tried to put every ounce of feeling into it - the passion and yearning he felt, the desire and burning. His mouth was soft, but demanding.

She felt all her anger and her malice fall as his mouth moved. The thoughts in her head flooded away as she pulled him in closer by his black button up. Her left hand held on tightly to his shirt while her right hand was flat on his chest, as if deciding whether to push him away or not.

His mouth almost pulled away, but she finally responded and allowed her mouth to open, allowing their kiss to deepen. They were breathing into each other's mouth, desperate to stay connected to one another. His teeth nibbled at her lip to which she pulled at his shirt even tighter. A chill ran down her spine as her body began to heat up more and more from their closeness. Not even the sun and its direct rays could have created the amount of heat between them.

JJ was in complete euphoria as their kiss went from soft and slow to burning and passionate as if they were speaking with their lips and lips only. His tongue teased her lips and her mouth opened slightly, allowing him to make his entrance. If they weren't in kook public, he would have pinned her up against a wall or a car in order to allow more room for movement.

And maybe it would have gone farther if her brain didn't zip back into rational thought and pulled away. Their breathing was rapid and heavy as they stared at each other, unsure how they got that far. She was silent, unsure how to respond to a sudden and stolen kiss.

JJ, not usually one to talk about his feelings, untangled himself from her, taking a step back before placing the hat that she had tried to return on her head.

"Keep it." He huffed out before walking back to the Twinkie and driving down the street.

The kiss had confirmed what both of them suspected and now knew.

Their feelings were real and reciprocated.

However, it didn't make anything else clear.

In fact, everything felt more complicated. She was angry at him for "leading her on" after she saw him with another girl. He was angry at her for not wanting to see him because of a miscommunication. She was angry at herself for not letting him speak and clear everything. He was angry at himself for being with another girl because now it fucked up everything with her.

But it didn't stop their minds from wandering to the same question.

What now?

◇ ◇ ◇

Sarah swore that she had never been friends with a dumber person. She may be a prodigy, but man, was she stupid sometimes. JJ had kissed the living daylights out of her, gave the hat back and she was doubting everything now. It was clear to Sarah - he was telling her that he liked her and that he was sorry.

But her best friend didn't see it that way.

In a way, she didn't blame her. She wasn't use to the dramas and the mind games of relationships, situationships or friendships that weren't friendships at all. And she knew that she was embarrassed by her outburst. So she allowed her best friend to wallow the day away.

The day of the recital, Sarah got an idea. It was risky and could backfire, but she knew that if she didn't do it, her little prodigy would never resolve this thing on her own. She was too focused on her recital that she couldn't take a break to think about the blond boy that had been pining for her.

The prodigy was near to leaving when Sarah snuck away from her, past her father and Rose who were speaking with the pianist's mother, and outside to the Druthers. She knew one person who could help and she was placing all her bets that he knew what was going on.

"John B." Sarah said, "We need to talk."

The boy put down the bucket and hose that he was using and wiped his hands with a cloth, "What about, Sarah Cameron?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Unless JJ didn't fill his very best friend in." John B shook his head and Sarah sighed, "Look, she's embarrassed. She didn't mean to blow up at him. She doesn't know how to apologize."

"Tell me about it. JJ doesn't know how to apologize either. And the fact that he wants to apologize is something you don't hear everyday."

"She likes him. A lot." She smiled softly, "She wouldn't be all frazzled and upset if she didn't. So," She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, "Let's give them hope."

"A ticket?" He asked.

"To her recital tonight in D.C." She sighed, "I don't know if he's gonna make it or want to go. It's a long five hour drive or train ride, but if he wants to go, it's there."

"I don't know." He shrugged. He'd never really seen JJ like that. Quiet. As if he thought too much that he couldn't even speak. "It could complicate things more."

"She was going to invite him on Friday." She admits, "She had the ticket in advance."

And with that he sighed, knowing that he couldn't take an opportunity away from his best friend, "No promises, Sarah Cameron."

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

◇ ◇ ◇

She pulled on her dress once more. It was a beautiful dress that had been bought by her mother, but she did feel kind of warm in it. The bow in her hair matched it and so did the shoes. She had been dressed in a simple black dress beforehand, but this one was made of velvet, and was longer in length than when she played in the orchestra and pockets.

Pockets!

Her performance was more important, she guessed.

But her mind was anywhere, but her performance.

Through the ferry ride to the mainland to the five hour limo ride to the concert hall - the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts - her mind was occupied with JJ Maybank.

"Oh great!" Margie barged into her dressing room, "You're on in ten. Let's get going."

She nodded, sitting up from her vanity, glancing once at the hat that was sitting on it. It was like her was actually there, assuring he that she'd be okay. She reached her hands out for a moment, but hesitated.

Margie called out her name once more, impatient by the door.

She followed Margie out the room.

The concert hall was full and from her view from the stage when she played earlier, she could see a few people she knew. A few senators. A couple congress men and women. Directors of universities. A professor from Juilliard that she had studied under when she was nine. But there were some she hadn't known, but knew from their posture and the way they took notes that they were either scouts or people of importance.

She was prepped and ready, but began to breathe heavily. She could do it. She could do it. She knew she could. The anxiety told her she couldn't, but she tossed them aside. She couldn't do anything, but play now. Whether she had boy problems or not, whether she just had her first kiss less than 48 hours before, she was a pianist first. She put her first love first before anyone else. Her future first.

But having him there would have been better.

She stood at the corner of the stage, breathing more steadily as her announcement was made. A round of applause followed and she walked elegantly on the stage. Her shoes clicked against the clean and slick floor as she made her way to the sleek black piano. She moved her dress aside so she'd sit comfortably. Her sheet music was out for her as a guide, but she knew she wouldn't even have to look at it.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

She put her fingers on the keys and played her first piece. As written on the program handed out for her time slot specifically, she played it as tribute to herself. And down she went on the list for her first section - classical and somber.

Fur Elise - a tribute to her middle name and her favorite composer of all time. La Campanella - at only the age of eight, she played this piece during her first live performance in Lincoln Center. I Wanted to Leave - an spectacular original piece by our composer. the inspiration came during a late night practice session at her home when she decided to write her own music. it is one of her first original works. Mists - one of the most challenging parts of her journey was learning to be spontaneous with her music. much like Beethoven, Iannis Xenakis' work inspired her to try less regulated music and explore the chaos. Cardigan - this original song took over two years to write. her inspiration for this piece was the idea that when one is young many believe that they know nothing. her song explores the highs and lows of both the piano and life, showing that she does know more than others believe. She dedicates it to her five year old self. Gymnopedie no 1 - going back to her roots, she plays one of the first songs she's ever memorized. she dedicates it to her mother, who encouraged her to play from day one and to her father, who once told her she'd play for audiences around the world.

The first set of thirty minutes ended as soon as it started. She was given a loud applause and she gave a small curtsy, a spotlight on her, before the curtains enclosed the stage and the lights turned on for the audience. She let out a breath as Margie, her mother and others came towards her, catering to her. Someone gave her a water bottle, another brought her lotion for her hands and another with a small towel to dab her forehead.

"Beautifully done, honey." Her mother kissed her head. "Your last piece made me remember the first days when you kept playing it. Drove your father and I crazy."

"Thank you, ma." She smiled.

"Okay, okay. Costume change!" Margie sang. "I have to go check up on your audience."

Quickly, she was rushed to the back and put on another outfit. It was a dark blue dress made of tulle. It was airy and light compared with the black dress that had made her feel suffocated. It was off the shoulder with tulle frills. She was thankful as long sleeves combined with hot stage lights did not combine well. Her shoes were replaced with Mary Janes. It was relief to her sore ankle that kept rubbing on a sharp part of the heels she was thrown into.

She received a text from Sarah as her black bow was replaced with a gold hair pin that kept her hair back. She congratulated her on her performance, saying that there was a lot of positive feedback. The pianist smiled for a moment before, replying with a smiling emoji, before thanking her hair stylist. For a moment, she was left alone to give herself some room to breathe.

Alone was the damn hat.

She picked it up. It felt intimate now. Touching the hat from the boy she liked and who liked her back. The hat that he had told her to keep after he kissed her for the first time. She couldn't help, but smile.

That boy made her crazy.

She had been distracted and pissed before, but now, all she felt was acceptance.

When she got back to OBX, she'd make things right with him. Maybe he wouldn't forgive her and she'd accept it. Maybe he would decide that he didn't want to be with her and she'd accept his answer. Whatever the ending would be, she'd be thankful for the hours of attention he gave her and the feeling of being cared for. He deserved her explanation without yelling because he had been nothing but good to her.

Maybe she'd always like JJ Maybank. And she was okay with that thought.

A knock on the door came and so did a ding from her phone. Margie barged in, calling her for her last thirty minute set. She nodded before standing up. She glanced at the hat.

She followed Margie out of the room.

The same process repeated.

Deep breaths. A last sip of water. Another announcement and she was off onto the stage. She sat on the stool, but before she put her hands on the keys, she placed JJ's hat on the empty space to her left, hidden from the audience's view. She had hidden the hat in her black dress' pocket, but without any pockets, she put it to her side. She smiled for a second before placing her fingers on the keys.

"Why do you play depressing songs? I thought pianists were supposed to be lighthearted."

She paused.

"There's a whole world out there that isn't classical music that could apply to your piano playing."

Her mother and Margie would probably kill her later. It was stupid to deviate from the plan.

But if there was anything JJ Maybank taught her: stupid things have good outcomes all the time.

She turned in her seat, gesturing to the stagehands for a microphone. Margie and her mother stared from the sidelines, slightly freaking out. Realizing she wasn't going to play without a microphone, she was quickly handed one by a stagehand. She tapped it, making sure it was on before, turning to the audience.

This is so stupid, but here we go.

"Uh, hi, everyone. Thank you for being here today. I know you're probably wondering what I'm doing with a microphone if I'm a pianist." She chuckled, "Don't worry, I'm not going to sing. I'm not total singing potiental, I promise you," A round of laughter, "and it's not what you came here for. You came for piano and I promise I'll give you that, but I've changed my mind about something." She took a breath, "I will not be playing the complete set that is written on your programs. I've realized a common theme in my playing tonight and someone who I care about recently told me that, um, there's another world that doesn't contain classical or melancholy music that could be applied to my talent. And I didn't believe in it before, but I do now.

"I believe in it now because I experienced something I never have before and I am very grateful for it because it has expanded what I once believed. It has challenged me and brought me to what I now believe and want. I thank that person for telling me that. I...I wish he was here tonight" She let a beat pass before sitting up straighter, "Which is why I will be changing up the setlist tonight. In honor of changing my way of thinking and thanking the people that have impacted my life in many different ways. I hope you still enjoy it."

She turned back to the piano, sliding the microphone into the holder that was already on the piano.

"This first one is to my best friend, Sarah Cameron. She's in the audience. Hi, Sarah." The audience chuckled a little, "This one's for you. For being my best friend and for choosing me during our rocky years."

She didn't play the setlist chosen for her. She played her own. And in each song, she explained the meaning behind it. Something she had never done before, but felt right in doing so.

Later, when her performance went viral online for her unexpected change of plans, Margie would have her write up the reasons for the songs she chose to post online with a deeper thought process.

The Climb - a song for Sarah Cameron. my best friend. we watched the Hannah Montana movie a million times at her house and at mine and we always sang it together. we know the journey is tough, but with each other, we're never alone. i adore her. she helped my journey so much that i had to start with her. Viva La Vida - it was one of my favorite songs as a kid. i used to sing it all the time. i liked the history behind it. the fall of a famous king. i played it once for my mom and she recorded me without knowing. i think she still has the tape. Sweet Nothing - this song is original. i wrote it when i was struggling with being alone. it began when i was in elementary school and i finished it the summer before freshman year. i wrote it in order to convince myself that one day i'd have people in my life that would want nothing from me, but myself. i never played it because of how personal it was and i didn't think anyone wanted to hear something sweet and about me. thankfully, someone changed my mind. Don't Stop Me Now - the person who told me there was another world of music i hadn't tapped into was right. after that conversation, i decided to try it out. simple to see if he was right. i decided on this song by Queen because my dad loved the song. i know he was smiling when i played it. it was so upbeat and fun to play that i forgot i was on stage. Never Grow Up - okay, okay, i had to. yes, slow songs are my forte. at the time, i didn't really have other original upbeat songs, but i thought this was the sweetest to play. again, it was another song to myself. it was to my younger self, who didn't know where she'd end up. it was a apology to her, to tell her she still had time to be a kid. it's my apology to her for growing up too fast. i hope she can forgive me. Left Hand Free - so the same person who told me to explore other world told me randomly that a song by Alt J would be perfect for me. i rolled my eyes at the time, but i decided to play it. it was like a little inside joke as i'm pretty sure most people in the audience didn't know what i was playing. it's kind of like the theme song of OBX, where i'm from. my gift to you from paradise on earth.

By the end, she hadn't realized that her time was almost up when the stage manager gave her the five minute warning sign. she nodded and picked up the microphone again.

"So I don't have much time left, but if you're still here, then thank you for still being interested." She laughed, "But uh, for this last song, I want to play something that I actually wrote for someone else. It was my second time writing something for someone else in such fashion. It's called The Ballad of JJ No.2 . If it sounds weird, blame his parents for naming him JJ because that wasn't me." The audience laughed, "It's part two because the first part is for him and him only. This second part, however, I can share with the rest of you because I don't think it's much of a secret." She turned back to piano and put the mic back in it's slot before picking up the hat and placing it on her head, "And to JJ, thanks for being a wildcard."

The Ballad of JJ No. 2 - so JJ is actually the boy who told me the quotes that I mentioned during the recital. he was my friend at the time (more like frenemy) but during the second half of the recital, i just thought back to him and how he was right. the reason i wrote the song was because he answered a question for me and i had to write a song for him in return. he was the one who titled it "The Ballad of JJ". he actually helped me write the first part. i decided that since his name was in the title, it might as well be a song about him. the first part is up and down and all around. wild. just like him. and sorry to all who want to hear it, but it's for JJ's ears only. the second part i wrote as an "alternate" version and it was the one i shared with my manager, mom and best friend when i was testing out originals. it was unfinished at the time, but i completed it on the way to the recital actually. i didn't know i would perform it, but i'm glad i did. his second ballad was what i felt about him. wild. electric. passionate. enchanted, it was everything i felt for him in a song that i couldn't say in words at the time. if you're reading this, i know you're going to tease me, but thanks for challenging me, J. it's the best thing i've ever written (also know that you're never getting your hat back. it one hundred percent mine now and you're the only one to blame).

The last note rang and she let out a breath. It was done. It was out in the open. No denial. No pauses. No hesitation.

(Later on, that one specific part of the recital went viral for her "love confession". It was all anyone could talk about for a couple days. No one outside of the OBX knew who "JJ" was or how he got her to write not one, but two ballads about him. She found it funny how everyone thought "JJ" was her boyfriend, when in reality, they weren't even together. At the time, at least.)

Claps and shouts rang through the concert hall. She stood up and as she did, so did the audience. A standing ovation she received for her performance. She walked to the edge of the stage and gave a final curtsy. She stood for a moment, taking in the cheers and approval for her performance. She hadn't failed, but she didn't care for failure at the moment.

She did something new.

A whistle came from the audience.

She knew that high pitched whistle anywhere.

She scanned the audience, hoping she wasn't dreaming, but couldn't find the person anywhere.

In the first box on the right, Sarah Cameron was waving frantically. The pianist's attention was soon caught and she scrunched up her eyebrows as Sarah rapidly pointed downwards to below the box she was in. Her eyes followed and landed on a boy with messy blond hair, blue eyes and a dopey smile on his face.

He was there.

Before the curtains could close properly, she ran towards the side of the stage where she barreled through the stage crew, her mother and Margie as she made her way out of the backstage. Her shoes hit the ground hard as she ran with all her might. She didn't have to go far because as soon as she saw the door that led to the audience's front row, it swung open so hard that it hit the wall with a bang.

"JJ!" She shouted, catching hit attention. She stopped short once she made it in front of him, "How...why...I-" She had run so fast that she was out of breath, panting.

"Sarah gave me the ticket you saved for me." He said, "Well she gave John B the ticket, who gave it to me almost two hours before your performance. I had to take a train to get here and I didn't see everything, but I made it during the beginning of your second round."

"So you heard-"

"Everything? Yeah," He grinned, "Really ballsy changing your music at the last minute. Did not expect that."

She shook her head with a laugh, "I just knew.I had to. I have to like what I'm playing. Like you said." Her breathing had become more regulated, so she spoke clearer, "I'm sorry I blew up on you. I wasn't being fair to you. I was angry and jealous and a complete ass to you. I'm sorry." She confessed and it was like a weight lifted off her shoulders, "I really like your attention, but I really really like you."

JJ replied with, "I'm...sorry too. I should have told you earlier instead of fucking around and ignoring what I felt for...you." He cleared him throat, "When I'm around you it's like...it's like heavy and like," He moved his hands around his chest, "It's like my heart wants to implode and just like...just...wow! You know?"

JJ had never been good with communicating his feels. Especially to the girl he's liked since elementary school. He was never good with his words, but he was good with his actions. That's why he kissed her. Saying everything he couldn't in action. But even then, he tried his hardest to say what he felt. And she saw that fully. She had trouble saying it too. That's why she played it instead - it was a love note to him that she couldn't say out loud.

"It's like...fireworks or like the freaking butterlies. Ever since we were kids and now I just..." He took a breath, "I really really reall- I never thought that you would even look at me. You're you and I'm me. I'm a reck and you're just-."

And the more hand movement he had, the more he made her smile. A bright one that said everything he needed to know. He noticed and stopped speaking. He knew she knew. No words could say what he felt, but every action said it for him.

So, he reached forward and pulled his hat down so that it covered her face, "Nice hat. Where'd you get it?"

She pulled it up, meeting his eyes, "Some guy I wrote a second ballad for."

"Oh yeah?" He took a step forward.

"Yeah." She nodded nonchalantly, "Don't know what he thought of it though. He hasn't even heard the first one fully."

JJ looked amused, chuckling as he looked to the side, "Oh he liked it. So much so that you can play both of them on your first date with him."

"Oh really?" She tilted her head to the side, with a teasing smile, "He won't try and distract me, right? Throw a paper airplane. Blow a trumpet. Crack open a can of Mons-"

Her sentence didn't even get to finish as JJ only shook his head with a wide smile and pulled her into a kiss. She smiled, knowing that her rambling would caused that reaction. His body pressed up against hers, molding into each other as if they were made for one another. His strong arms eloped around her, one around her waist and the other around her neck. She put her hand onto his shirt, pulling him closer as her other hand ran through his hair.

Their first kiss was matches and gasoline being poured together. Their second was thunder and lightning. Same passion, different area. The first was destructive based on two opposite forces. The second were merely nature, two forces that worked together.

Both beautiful in their own categories.

Her hand tugged on his hair and his tongue slipped into her mouth. Their noises were drowned out by the clamor outside the door. Her fingers trailed his jaw and his throat. His stroked her waist, causing her stomach to erupt in butterflies.

More. More. More.

It was all they wanted.

More as everything ran through them. The wants. The desires. The love. The fire. The passion. The need. The unexplainable euphoria that ran through their bodies and into their souls - their souls that spoke to one another in this one moment.

He smelt like sea salt and smoke. He tasted like sugar. He felt like fire. His hands like water as they drowned her in sensations that she hadn't felt before, but would die to feel over and over if it was him causing it.

She smelt like old books and flowers. She tasted like sweet chamomile tea. She felt like velvet. Her presence, her entire being, was like the salty air of the beach - consuming every part of him until he desired nothing more than to stay in that moment forever.

"So that's a yes?" He pulled away abruptly, eyes sleepy and hands shaking.

"Shut up and kiss me."

And he did just that.

◇ ◇ ◇

thedarlinglore: you'd be dead if you took a shot every time i used the word "maybe". it should be illegal with how much i used that word. it took me three days to write this and one to edit. it took me out of my writing slump. might make a part 2. thank you mr.maybank ❤

[angstyaches]

I’ve Been Away Pt. 1

CW: angst, crying, nausea/indigestion caused by stress, anxiety. (But there’s a bit of banter at the end to round it out.)

Felix waited across the street in a rented car, waiting for Elliott to leave the house.

He and Ryan usually went out to sharpen their combat skills (at least, that was how they phrased “trying to beat the crap out of one another”) on Sunday evenings, and knowing Elliott, he wouldn’t want Ryan to see how Felix’s absence was affecting him. If it was affecting him, Felix corrected himself, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Maybe Elliott was doing fine without him. Maybe he was better off. It didn’t really bear thinking about.

Felix gasped as the front door opened and Ryan walked out, heading straight for her car. Elliott followed, his steps a lot slower and more deliberate than usual. Felix folded his arms across the top of the steering wheel and ducked his head almost the whole way behind them, a sinking feeling in his belly. He’d bought a hoodie to cover up his mint hair, abandoned his own car at the hotel in favour of a less-recognisable one, and had even doused himself in cheap cologne on the off-chance that Elliott or Ryan would smell him from across the street.

He needn’t have worried, it seemed, since neither of them even glanced in his direction. Felix realised with a pang of despair that he was disappointed. If Elliott had been AWOL, Felix was sure he’d be glancing up and down every street and around every corner in the hopes of sighting him. He should have been happy that his plans to remain incognito had been successful, yet he wanted to cry.

Come on, Felix, don’t be a baby, he told himself. He’d come here for a reason, and things were going better than expected. He got out of the car as soon as Ryan’s disappeared from the street, taking Elliott away with it. Felix tried to ignore the pain in his heart.

He crossed the street, he realised afterwards, without even looking both ways first. His hands trembled as he took out his keys and let himself inside, the smell of lavender and floor cleaner scooping him up. This had been the first house that had ever really felt like home, but now it seemed to greet him with a glare, a side-eye. He shuddered and hurried upstairs, anxious to get in and out as quickly as possible.

Elliott had always thought Felix was crazy for having a safe in their bedroom wardrobe, complete with a code. Elliott thought a lot of things Felix did were crazy. Maybe I am crazy, Felix thought as he twisted the dial to input the code – the date of the day he’d run away from home; the first time. After all, he’d put all of his old IDs in here for a reason, and now here he was, dragging it all out.

A burning pain made itself known in the pit of his stomach as he dragged out the papers, his old passport, a small pile of newspaper clippings he had always meant to glue into a scrapbook but hadn’t. A watch slid out, landing on the wooden floor. Felix hadn’t seen in almost a decade. He swallowed a bitter mouthful of spit and shoved the watch back inside, not really concerned about scratch it in the process.

He eyed Elliott’s bedside locker as he stood up after locking the safe, clutching his documents to his chest. If he’d been in a rom-com, he would have left a little note to indicate to Elliott that he’d been there, and that he still loved him and just needed a little time. But this was real life, and Elliott would find precisely nothing romantic or comedic in a gesture like that.

So instead, Felix bolted back to the car.

He was shaking as he sank back into the driver’s seat of the car, resting his pile of papers in his lap. His old passport lay on top, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. He wasn’t even sure if he would need any of this stuff, but if he was going to take this leap, he was going to be prepared for whatever they might want from him. He might have to fight to identify himself.

He might have to fight to make her remember.

He quickly dropped everything into the empty glove compartment, wrinkling his nose at the fresh wave of not-new-but-perfumed-to-seem-new car smell that came wafting out. A belch gurgled up his chest and he covered his mouth as it escaped. The last thing he’d eaten had been a sad sandwich from a petrol station, plus a tiny bit of the blood he’d been rationing himself, and the stress had made sure it hadn’t gone anywhere yet.

Maybe he should have picked up more blood when he’d been inside, but there was no way he could think about that without feeling like it would be stealing.

He felt sick. He was tired.

And the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts, especially with such a long drive ahead of him.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he whispered to himself, watching the door of the townhouse swing open across the street. He hadn’t thought about Shayne, who must have only gotten back from Charlie’s a few days ago. Felix whipped up his hood and sank a bit in his seat, thinking he wouldn’t be seen, but from peering out over the steering wheel, he got the feeling that Shayne already knew it was him.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Crap,” Felix hissed, scrambling to get the key in the ignition. He jumped in his seat as Shayne slammed both hands down on the front of the car.

“Stop, it’s a rental!” Felix squealed.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Look, I know it looks bad –”

“Get out of the car!”

Felix inhaled deeply, staring down the hollow brown eyes that pinned him from outside the windshield. He slowly started to shake his head, even though his stomach felt like it was about to crawl up his throat.

“N-no.”

“Do you know what this is doing to Elliott?”

“No!” Felix yelled, covering his face with both hands. “No, I don’t, Shayne, but you don’t need to tell me, because I already hate myself enough! Whatever it is, it couldn’t be worse than the way it is in my head…”

He felt like he was being choked. His forehead made the horn honk gently as he let it fall against the wheel. His chest hurt, it hurt so fucking bad, it felt like whatever was left in there was rotten and crumbling and turned black with self-hatred. He’d known things were bad - he’d cried himself to sleep every night since he’d left - but right then, it felt like death itself was pressing in around him.

He jumped, the pain sharpening in his chest, at the sound of the passenger side door opening. The car bounced on its axis with the force of Shayne climbing in.

“I’m sorry!” Felix sobbed, not sure what he was actually expecting Shayne to do to him. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean for it to be like this, I just… there’s some stuff I have to do. It’s really, really important…”

“Is it?” Shayne asked sharply.

“Yes.”

Felix jumped again as Shayne pulled the door shut, hard.

“Alright.” Shayne shrugged, reaching for the seatbelt for the passenger seat. “You’re going to have to buy me more clothes if this takes longer than a day.”

Felix’s jaw dropped, the tears sliding down his face even as the sobs relented. “Wh-what?”

“Oh, and absolutely no singing.”

“That just seems… unreasonable,” Felix mumbled.

“And!” Shayne reached across to lightly slap Felix’s arm with the back of his hand. “We’re calling Elliott later. Both of us. Alright?”

Felix licked his lips, feeling both intimidated and energised by the glare he was receiving from his cousin. “Okay… sure.”

Shayne sank a bit lower in his seat and propped his head against the door. Felix took a deep breath, focusing on the full feeling in his lungs for a moment before letting himself deflate again. His hands felt a bit steadier when he started the ignition this time. The knot in his chest was still there but it felt a little lighter, and the sting of the indigestion didn’t creep quite so high.

“And the ‘no singing’ rule,” he said, “is that absolutely locked-in, or is there a bit of wiggle room on that…?”

“You break that rule, and I’m grabbing the steering wheel and wiggling us into oncoming traffic.”

[fanfictionaries]

The Seduction of Sirius Black - Part 1

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Sirius Black

Summary:

Hermione loves her boyfriend, but there’s just one little problem -- she’s hopelessly attracted to Sirius Black. 

Warnings: Swearing, Smut/18+ NSFW, Angst, Ron bashing (sorry) 

Author’s Note: Posting some old stuff! Honestly, editing it has been a nice lead back into really writing. Very cathartic! 

Also, apologies for the Ron bashing in this story. I know it’s a stupid trope and to a certain extent I really enjoy Ron as a character, buuuuut I’m using it as a cheap way to move plot. 

ALSO, this is obviously a AU where Sirius didn’t die in the Department of Mysteries. 

ALSO (and this is the last one I swear), I AM a big fan of Wolfstar but I also have daddy issues and find Sirius Black extremely attractive and this is my tumblr so I can write the stories I want I guess. Haha Not to mention, Sirius Black gives BIG bisexual energy.  

MASTERLIST

*** 

Hermione didn’t really know when it had happened – this attraction to Sirius Black. It wasn’t as if she had woken up one day with the sudden urge to jump across the table and shag the older wizard into the next life. The whole thing had occurred much more gradually than that, she supposed. However, despite all of the trivial aspects of her…situation, Hermione chose instead to focus purely on the fact that he was entirely off limits. For many reasons. There was no way anyone in her close-knit circle of friends would be okay with her becoming entangled with a man more than twice her age and who also happened to be her best friend’s god father. It would be unacceptable. It would be impractical. Most of all it would be highly inappropriate as she was currently dating her other best friend, Ronald Weasley.

She supposed the attraction was inevitable to a certain degree. At the beginning, nearly a year and half ago, things like physical attraction were far from her mind. She’d just started her new position at the Ministry, Harry and Ron were training to be Aurors, the war had just come to an end and thus her life was a whirlwind of people and places. But over time things slowed down. Ronald was stationed away on official Auror business more and more often, leaving very little time for him to visit her and when he did come back, he had to split his time between her and his large family. Harry, having waited for Ginny to finish her final year at Hogwarts, had gone and married her the summer after and for all intents and purposes abandoned her. Harry…

It was really all Harry’s fault. Or at least that’s what Hermione liked to think whenever she felt her heart skip and her pulse slip between her thighs in Sirius Black’s presence. It had been Harry’s idea for Hermione to move into Grimmauld Place with him and Sirius after the war. Family, it seemed, had taken an important role in everyone’s lives when Lord Voldemort fell for the final time. All of the Weasley children had moved back to their childhood home of the Burrow – even Charlie much to everyone’s great surprise and delight. Tonks and Remus moved in with her mother and father, Andromeda and Theodore, to bask in the cheer of their newborn baby Teddy. And Harry had moved in with Sirius. Everyone had felt the need to be closer than ever to the ones that they loved, and Hermione completely understood that need. In fact, if she had had a family to go to, she would have moved in with them as well. But her parents were still in Australia somewhere, the location even unknown to herself as she’d designed it that way. Harry, being fully aware of this fact, insisted that she move in with him and Sirius. Hermione had been fully prepared to get her own flat in London. But after a bit of prodding she’d accepted Harry’s offer, secretly grateful that her best friend was so kind and thoughtful. Now, she probably cursed him name at least five times a day.

Hermione had been happy for him and Ginny when they announced their engagement. She’d cried not only when Ginny asked her to be her maid of honor, but also when the two had said their ‘I do’s. However, Harry moved out of Grimmauld Place following their marriage and subsequently left her to live with Sirius Black all by herself. So now she sat in the quaint little kitchen of the Black home, sipping her morning tea, and trying incredibly hard to keep her attention on her book rather than glance up at the rugged wizard sitting across from her.

“Hmpf” Sirius let out the little sound of surprise before continuing, “Would you look at that. Sources say that while Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, announces no final decisions have been made in regard to the recent Magical Creature Equality Act proposed last month, there are certain voices in the Ministry that are persuading not only the members of the Wizengamot, but the Minister himself to vote yes for magical creature equality.” He read the words aloud, peaking over his paper at her and raising his eyebrows. “I wonder who those certain voices or voice is…” he mused humorously.

It was no secret that shortly after being appointed a position in the Ministry department of Magical Creatures, Hermione had gone about being a personal activist for Magical Creature rights. Merlin, she had written almost the entire Act herself. Her hand still cramped at the thought of the hours she spent in her office and the library at Grimmauld Place scribbling away with her quill.

“No idea,” Hermione responded, feigning ignorance but blushing all the same in embarrassment. She kept her eyes on the pages of her book but found no matter how many times she read and reread the same paragraph she couldn’t retain it. Slowly her eyes shifted to the man in front of her. His gaze was fixed on the paper and so she was free to take him in. He had just showered, his wavy brown hair hanging damp to his shoulders. It made him look, in her opinion, especially delectable that morning. Hermione felt herself blush even deeper at the lewd thoughts threatening to enter her mind before looking back down at her book and scolding herself.

“So, when is Ronald coming for a visit again? Need me to clear off any time soon?” Sirius asked, sparking up conversation after the long bout of silence.

“Unfortunately, he won’t be back till next month,” she sighed, ignoring the second half of Sirius’s question.

“Well that’s not too bad I suppose—” Sirius smiled warmly and set down his paper as he stood up “—It gives you plenty of time to focus on getting the Ministry on board with your Act before you’re…distracted.” Sirius added the last part with a teasing implication not lost on Hermione.

“My Act?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow jokingly as she stood up as well and took her teacup to the sink. She grabbed the sponge to begin washing up when Sirius took it from her hand.

“I can do the washing up. You’re going to be late for work. Besides, it’s not like I work or anything. Might as well do something productive today,” he stated dryly, turning on the tap.

“Hmm, yes. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. You’ve become quite the lay-about. When are you going to get a job and start contributing to the household?” Hermione asked cheekily.

“Lay-about? Need I remind you that this is my house that you live in, rent free. You’re lucky a kind old man like me has taken a liking to you, or you’d be on the streets, kitten,” Sirius said, flicking some water off his fingertips in her direction.

“More like taken pity on me—” Hermione shook her head “—and you’re far from an old man, Sirius. I swear, you’d like people to think you’re closer to eighty than twenty!” She exited the kitchen and slipped into her heels next to the front door.

“Mind picking up some milk on your way home, kitten? We’re almost out!” Sirius called out to her, ignoring her statement on his age. Hermione tried not to focus on the way her stomach flipped in response to Sirius using his nickname for her for a second time that morning.

“Sure thing!” she called back before exiting the front door and apparating the moment she hit the sidewalk.

Hermione found it very difficult to work that day. The summer heat had become abysmal, proving to be quite the sticky, humid season, and of course that meant the Ministry’s cooling charms were on the fritz. By the time the day was over, Hermione’s hair had grown three times its size. Catching her reflection in a Ministry window, Hermione had gasped at its state. Even she hadn’t known it could get that big. In addition, her silk blouse that she had tucked into a polyester pencil skirt had become damp and uncomfortable from the sweat that accumulated on her body throughout the day.  And even after casting multiple drying spells to herself and her clothes, there was still nothing she could do about her hair. To add to her physical discomfort, she also struggled with a mental discomfort as well. Ron had been plaguing her mind all day long.

Ronald Weasley. Her oldest friend, now boyfriend. It hadn’t been a shock to anyone when they had gotten together after the war had ended. It had almost been expected in fact. She’d liked him since third year and aside from his short tryst with Lavender Brown, it had been obvious they would be together. Hermione loved Ron, she really did, but he was gone so often. Gone often and when he was home things felt…off. His affection seemed to have waned and Hermione was left thinking that perhaps it had something to do with her. Every time he chose to kiss her cheek as opposed to her lips or pat her leg friendly instead of holding her hand Hermione felt a little blow to her confidence. Bitterly she thought of how he and Lavender had been all over each other sixth year. She certainly wouldn’t enjoy having Ron’s tongue shoved down her throat in broad daylight, but surely, it’d be nice to have him show a bit of affection. In the beginning he’d been much more enthusiastic. They would often sneak off for a cheeky snog and hands often lingered under tables. They’d even gone all the way. It had been romantic and sweet, and Ron had certainly enjoyed himself. Or at least she thought he had. But now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she’d been rubbish at it and he didn’t know how to tell her. Maybe he just didn’t find her attractive anymore. She had put on a bit of weight in the past year and a half. Hermione figured it was for the best as she was no longer starving to death on the run from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But now when she looked in the mirror her eyes focused for too long on the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the thickness of her thighs, and the softness of her stomach.

Despite this possibility, Hermione couldn’t help but feel guilty about her lustful thoughts involving Sirius. She often tried to reason with herself that it was perfectly normal to feel such base emotions. Everyone had them and as long as she didn’t act on them, she was fine. She was just lonely, and Sirius was there.

Resolving to speak with Ron about her concerns when he returned in a week, Hermione shook the troubling thoughts from her head and continued down Diagon Alley, intending to just pop by the small corner store at the end for some milk and maybe some ice-cream for later. She needed a small pick-me-up after the day she’d had. Jogging the last few steps to the corner store, Hermione pulled open the heavy door and sighed happily as the cooling charms inside enveloped her. She wiped her forehead with her arm and headed to the back of the store where the freezer section was. The store was practically deserted aside from a single witch staring at the ice pops with a heavy look of concentration. Hermione walked up next to her to stare at the ice-cream choices and smiled when she spotted the Rocky Road. It was Ron’s favorite.

“It’s a scorcher out there, innit?” commented the witch, her thick London accent coming through endearingly sweet. Hermione looked to her left and took in the girl. She was thin and tan with beautiful golden hair tied up into a long ponytail. She had a friendly, heart-shaped face and sparkly green eyes. Something about her seemed familiar – Hermione must have seen her somewhere before.

“I’m practically melting,” agreed Hermione, shaking her head, and grabbing the Rocky Road, thinking she would have that tonight rather than her usual Mint Chocolate-Chip.

“Any fun plans for the heat?” the pretty blonde asked casually, grabbing a box of grape ice pops and a carton of Rocky Road ice-cream as well.

“Not really. Probably just go home and cast as many cooling charms as possible—” Hermione crinkled her nose and quirked the corner of her mouth in a wry grin “—Yourself?”

“Me and my boyfriend are planning a nice night in. He’s just got back from assignment with the Ministry. He’s an Auror, so we’re doing a bit of celebrating before he has to go back.” The girl smiled, her voice heavy with adoration.

“How nice! My boyfriend’s an Auror as well.”

“Really?” the girl asked, eyes lighting up.

“Yes, he’s actually away on assignment right now. I wonder if they know—” Hermione had been about to ask if perhaps their respective partners were familiar with each other when a voice called out from the end of the aisle.

“Babe, they didn’t have the crisps you like, but—” Basket hanging from one hand and a bag of Salt and Vinegar crisps in the other, Ron stopped dead in his tracts at the sight of Hermione. His eyes grew wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “’Mione?”

Hermione stared back too, but unlike Ron she was unable to find her voice. Instead she just stared. Ron was back from assignment? Why hadn’t he told her? What was he doing there? Why was he calling this girl babe when—

“Wait—‘Mione? As in Hermione Granger?” the witch asked, taking a step back from Hermione and towards Ron. She looked at Hermione with wide, incredulous eyes. “Oh my gosh, I feel so foolish. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

Hermione looked on in confusion as she watched the witch hook her arm in Ron’s and smile politely back at her.

“Hermione,” Ron said her name again, but Hermione was too busy taking the two of them in. She felt like an absolute fool. The carton of Rocky Road slipped from her fingers and landed on the linoleum floor of the shop with a dull thud. Then, in a panic, Hermione turned on the spot and fled, hearing Ron’s call after her mix with a small ‘Oh my’ from the pretty blonde witch.

There were a million places Hermione could have gone. There were a million places Hermione should have gone. All of them much better choices than the seedy little muggle bar she found just outside of Diagon Alley. She should have gone home. Or to Harry. Or to Ginny. The smart choice was to tell someone what had happened and to talk it out. But instead, she spent the next four hours doing her best to get well and truly pissed. Drinking wasn’t like Hermione and certainly the first glass of whiskey had been hard to get down. But she found after the first two, she hardly tasted the biting liquid anymore and the dulling effect of the alcohol was just so nice.

It was just past ten in the evening when Hermione left the bar, tipping this way and that way in her heels and feeling exceptionally light-headed. The night had cooled down and the sun had just set, allowing Hermione to feel some semblance of relief as she walked down the street to a nearby alleyway. It probably wasn’t the best idea to apparate when she was so inebriated, but Hermione wasn’t really thinking in that moment. She just knew she didn’t want to walk. Thankfully, she managed to land, although very ungracefully, in front of Grimmauld Place without splinching herself.

“Shit,” Hermione whispered followed by a snort of laughter when she tripped over the threshold after finally getting her key in the keyhole. The world had gone all wobbly it had taken her ages to find the right key and get it in the lock. Closing the front door as quietly behind her as possible Hermione found herself overtaken by the strong urge to laugh again. Hermione Granger was well and truly sloshed and for some reason she found that to be very funny.

“Hermione?”

Hermione jumped at her name, letting out a little shriek as she turned around and found Sirius standing in the hall. The hall was dark, but light streamed out through the doorway to the kitchen illuminating him in long shadows where he stood, arms crossed.

“Sirius—” Hermione held a hand to her heart, feeling it beat wildly in her chest. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“It’s past eleven, where have you been?” There was a strange tone to his voice, like he was angry with her but also like he was speaking to a small, frightened animal.

Past eleven? How long had it taken her to unlock the front door?

“I was—” Hermione tripped on the rug, catching herself on the wall and letting out another little laugh “—I stopped and had a little post-work drink.” Her words were slurred, even to her own ears and she laughed again, holding a hand over mouth in embarrassment. “Well, maybe one or two post-work drinks.”

“Are you drunk, kitten?” Sirius asked, sounding amused now.

Hermione continued down the hall, getting closer and closer to Sirius. Each step was a new struggle. A trip here, a wobble there. But Hermione didn’t care. In fact, she felt…good. Free almost. “Maaaaybe,” she drawled, giggling like a small child as she closed the last bit of distance and swayed before Sirius.

He stared down at her, arms now uncrossed as he seemed to be trying to figure out whether he should be amused or concerned. Hermione’s mouth went dry. Now that she was closer, she could see him more clearly and Merlin did she see him. There was a shadow of facial hair across his square jaw, and down his neck. Hermione found herself wondering what it felt like – whether it was soft or rough. Gaze traveling down the thickness of his neck she found his upperhalf bare, the only thing covering his torso, an open robe revealing the inky black of his tattoos. She loved his tattoos. They made him look dangerous. Mysterious. Hot. His chest was free of hair, the lean muscles dipping low and high like delicious hills and valleys she’d so like to explore. In fact…she reached out a hand, her body working opposite of a clear head as her fingertips tentatively touched the smooth planes of Sirius’ chest. He was warm.

He went sort of rigid under her touch, but Hermione barely noticed. Instead she was too entranced by the feel of him. Had she ever touched him before? She didn’t think she had. Her gazed traveled further south and with it, so did her fingertips. Ghosting down the center of his chest from sternum to bellybutton, she blushed furiously at the sight of thick dark hair starting at his navel and disappearing below a pair of pajama pants that sat dangerously low on his hips. She swallowed thickly, her breath coming in thick hot puffs as her hand traveled further, barely brushing the thick hair before a hand shot out and grasped her wrist.

Hermione gasped, looking up suddenly into the stormy eyes of Sirius Black before her. He lifted her wrist to shoulder height, pulling her forward slightly as he did it. The distance between them closed even more.

“Kitten.” It was a warning. Hermione knew it. But for some reason her whiskey-idled brain didn’t care. She liked the risk behind his tone. Her body practically purred at the sound of his special nickname just for her – the irony of that sentiment lost on her in the moment.

“Yes, Sirius?” she responded, her voice coming out deep and breathy and dare she say seductive? Hermione had never sounded like that before. She kind of liked it. Looking up at him with her best attempt at innocent eyes, she waited for him to say something.

Sirius stared down at her, his face a stony mask, but a war was raging behind his eyes. Hermione’s gaze flickered from the stormy grey of his eyes to the fullness of his lips and back up. With a deep breath and a long swallow that made his Adam’s apple bob in a mouth-watering way, Sirius finally spoke.

“You should go to bed.”

Hermione huffed, a bit like a petulant child but not quite as bratty. “What if I don’t want to?”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.” His tone was dark, and it sent a surprising thrill through Hermione’s body. Her center throbbed. Her breath hitched. Maybe it was all in her head – this thick tension between them. Or maybe it wasn’t. It was certainly taboo, this…energy radiating between them. But Hermione didn’t really care because in that moment she made the sudden realization that she could have this. She could have this and not be the bad guy. Ron was the bad guy. All those months of guilt for feeling basic human attraction and he was off shagging some beautiful, leggy blonde. But now…she didn’t have to feel guilty anymore.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione lifted up onto her toes and closed the distance between them. Their lips pressed together for a moment, firm and warm. When Sirius failed to respond, Hermione’s stomach dropped, and she made the mortifying realization that he didn’t want to kiss her. She was just beginning to pull away, an apology poised on her lips when the grip on her wrist vanished and reappeared around her waist, pulling her in tightly as Sirius’s lips claimed her own.

It all happened very quickly. A meshing of lips and teeth and tongue that left her hot, sticky, and out of breath. Before she knew it, she was being pushed up against the wall of the hallway, her back and head hitting the plaster hard, but she did not care. The only thing she could focus on was the feeling of Sirius’s lips on her own and the hot cloud of their shared breath.

His hands remained wrapped tightly around her torso, gripping the material of her blouse in his fists, but Hermione’s hands were everywhere. She wanted to touch all of him, and she was determined to do so. It wasn’t until her hands wound themselves around his neck and threaded up into his hair, gripping the strands vice-like, that Sirius broke. He let out a ragged groan before moving his hands from around her waist to her front. Grabbing the material of her blouse in each hand, he gave a great tug, not even bothering to try and unbutton it. Hermione gasped at the sound of ripping fabric and the pop of her blouse buttons. Cool air brushing her sensitive skin and the hitch in his breath made Hermione acutely aware that she was now bare to him from the waist up. She remembered the bra she’d chosen to wear that day – a thin and see-through number that cupped her breasts perfectly but left little to the imagination. He was kissing her neck then, sucking and biting in ways that left her breathless and needy. His hands covered her breasts, kneading and stroking in a gentle way that contrasted so strikingly with how he was attacking her neck.

The only thing Hermione could do in that moment was hold on for dear life. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and when Sirius’s mouth traveled south to envelope of her nipples, she thought that actually had. She let out a low, needy moan and arched into him. Feeling bold, she slid a hand from his hair, down the firm planes of his chest and to the front of his pajama bottoms. At the feel of his hard length she whined, high and breathy. Her hand had been there for barely a moment before Sirius tore away from her, distancing himself the width of the hallway. Hermione leaned against the wall behind her, needing the stability of it to stay upright due to her still drunk nature and the shaky state of her legs.

“What?” she asked, looking at the panting man across from her with confusion.

Sirius stared at her for a moment, chest falling up and down as pieces of his thick dark hair hung in his face. Hermione tried to focus but the only thing she could think of was how much she wanted to brush that hair from his gorgeous features so she could see him more clearly.

“You’re drunk. You should go to bed,” said Sirius, his voice low and gravely and filled with an edge of regret.

“But—” Hermione hesitated, confused at his response “—I don’t understand.” She crossed the distance between them, kissing up the older wizard’s neck. Did he think she didn’t want this?

“Kitten.” Sirius’s voice was strained, but he still managed to grab Hermione’s wandering hands and push her away again. Hermione gasped at his rough touch as he pulled her off of him. “I said you should go to bed.”

Hermione stared up at him in shock for a moment before a surprising rage filled her. Was she not good enough for him? Was she not pretty enough? Did he not enjoy what they’d been doing? The hot sting of angry tears reached the inner corners of her eyes and she tore out of Sirius’s grip before stomping up the stairs towards her room with a huff.

Part 2

[kosmosian-quills]

Torn Apart

Returning briefly from my hiatus to deliver a short little thing set in @cirianne’s Street Magic Universe! Featuring Charlie making a decision a little too easily.

I hope you enjoy!

POV: Charlie

Tuesdays are normally a quiet day at the office.

With no major Council briefings to attend to, my duty was to attend to the many jobs that my role as the Spokesman for Interior Affairs depended on me for. Speaking with Commanders, scientists, wardens of academies. All people who report to me on findings, of which I then report to the Council itself. And considering the epidemic that magic is on our society, it’s an important job to be sure.

But I really have only one job today.

At 9am sharp, I stroll past my secretary - a brown-haired beauty named Stephanie or something - and into my waiting office. As opulent and spacious as it is, today it feels claustrophobic and sterile. It feels not like the place I am particularly comfortable working in. There is something I need to do before I -

Buzzzzz!

I sigh, shoving my briefcase to the floor and pressing the button on my intercom. “Yes?”

“Councilwoman Pryce to see you, sir,” Stephanie tells me through the metallic haze of noise.

I fight to keep the groan from being audible as I respond. “Send her in.”

I don’t have any time to look more presentable than I already am, and simply find myself stood behind my desk waiting for the Councilwoman to come in. My desk feels filthy today, and I haven’t even started yet.

The door clicks open, and in steps one of the few women democratically elected into the Council - Councilwoman Jillian Pryce.

Pryce is a middle aged woman, newly elected onto the Council and very by the books about pretty much anything. I suppose technically, she is one of the newer Council members, but she has held this job for a few years. She is newly appointed as Speaker for the Council. I truly doubt fun was ever a word in her vocabulary, and I pity her husband - if she has one. Her hair tied up into a tight bun on the back of her head, her arms folded in that dull grey suit of hers. She’s wearing a brooch on the top button of her blouse where a tie would be. The heels of her shoes click loudly on the wooden floor of my office, and I just know I’m in for some kind of stern reprimand from my own colleague here.

I force my lips into the charming smile that I know I am famous for. “Jill, what a pleasant surprise. Sorry I’m not too presentable this morning, but I just arrived and haven’t had my coffee yet,” I reach forward to the intercom again, “Stephanie, will you get me and Jill some coffee?”

“Tea will do, thank you Councilman Atwood,” she replies, standing right in front of my desk, her stare hardening as she enunciates my title.

“Tea, then,” I repeat, “for the Councilwoman.”

“Yes, sir.”

I release the button and stand tall, watching as her stare never falters from my direct eye contact.

“Councilman Atwood, we have a problem,” she states.

“Do we?”

“Yes, we do. Don’t try and pretend you don’t know what I am talking about. This needs to be sorted today.”

“Which problem of mine are you referring to, Councilwoman Pryce?” I ask, taking a seat at my desk and pointedly ignoring the stares on my desk. “I thought I was quite clear in my report that I am disavowing that girl completely.”

She shakes her head at me, her voice stern and even, like a schoolteacher reprimanding a disruptive child. “That is not good enough and we both know it. You can shrug this off as much as you want, but the fact is that the public will hear about this and they will want to see your response to the situation. They see everything.”

“I have made my position regarding her -”

She raises a hand up from her folded arms, and silences me. “No, you have not. Actions speak louder than words Councilman. The situation with your daughter is one that requires you to set an example to the country, and the way I see it, you have two options.”

The mention of my daughter makes me cast a glance at the photograph on my desk, the one that has been staring at me. I reach over and slam it face down onto the desk, getting those once innocent green eyes off my back.

Pryce holds up her index finger as she continues.

“One. You can behave loving and caring with her, you can use her to show off how nice mages can be with the right education in our academies. With the right amount of love and devotion to the government, she can be used to set an impression on the families who have children with magic also. Set them at ease a little, to know that their children are in good hands, and they are valuable to us.”

“Councilwoman Pryce, I cannot make such a u-turn on my very public beliefs regarding magic.” I interrupt her idealistic little speech, and she returns her hand to its previously folded position, “as you said yourself, the public see everything, and for them to see me turn around so quickly when they hear that she was my daughter? They will smell a rat, and I lose my hard line voters. That is unacceptable to me.”

“I thought you might say that.” She shrugs. “The second option is to stick to your line of evil mutants and cut her out of your life completely. No do overs, no second chances. She is out of your life, publicly, and you set the example that you aren’t letting family get in the way of your devotion to your country.”

The door opens and Stephanie comes in holding a tray. My promised coffee, and Pryce’s requested tea, freshly brewing in a ceramic pot, little containers of sugar, milk and creamers clattering on the tray. She doesn’t say a word as she sets it on the desk, places my coffee mug in front of me, and pours out the tea into the little teacup.

“Black, one sugar, please,” Pryce says aside to Stephanie, who diligently made the drink as it was requested. “Option one has the risk of Lilly… shall we say, going Rivera which I honestly don’t consider likely. If you keep her in the public eye with love and support, I highly doubt she would do something like that.”

Going Rivera. Oh please, I highly doubt that the girl would go as far as to even be compared to Rivera. She wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Besides, Rivera was a known terrorist who killed before she was taken to an academy to be dealt with. God, how many years ago was that now? When I had first dealt with her myself, Lilly must have still been a toddler.

Once Pryce’s tea is made, Stephanie takes her leave, hurrying out of the door and leaving us to have our meeting once more.

“Option two has the risk of you losing sympathies among the more family oriented voters - which I do not blame them for - but the hard line voters will be content with your actions. You’d have to do something to try and earn back the family voters, and given the situation it would have to be something big. But there can be no in between, Councilman Atwood.”

I pick up my mug of coffee and take a long sip, hoping for the caffeine to hit me quickly so that I can get Pryce out of my office to deal with this my way.

“I either use her as a prop, or hard cut her out of my life. I understand, Councilwoman Pryce,” I place the coffee down on my desk again, and I finally take my seat. “It’s not like this can be hidden anyway.”

“Which is why you need to deal with this today. Completely. I understand it’s a hard choice for a father to make, but -”

“I already gave you my answer, Councilwoman,” I lean forwards on my desk, “she is forever out of my life.”

Her face remains stoic, not flinching as I said that to her. “I had a feeling you’d go with that option. I would have preferred option one, but you have made your choice. Now you need to do something about it.”

She turns about, and makes her way to the door. I notice the steaming cup of tea is still there, untouched, on my desk.

“Jill, your tea -!”

“Can’t stop for tea, I’m afraid.” She doesn’t even turn to face me as she opens the door, “I have a lot to do today, Councilman, as do you.”

The sound of Pryce’s footsteps clacking down the corridor, slowly getting quieter as she gets further away, leaving me alone in my office with a tea I won’t drink.

Well. She isn’t wrong. I have a lot to do today, and I suppose now is the best time to start.

I grab a hold of the photo frame beside my computer, the one I faced down before, and I look at it properly.

It’s a family photo, taken just barely a month ago. It features three children smiling and laughing up at the camera. Two boys and a girl. All three of them green-eyed, the elder two with blond hair. The younger boy was brown-haired, curly and small. The older girl and boy with wide grins as the boy lifted up their younger brother.

Lilly, Peter, Max.

I open up the back of the frame and remove the picture, carefully tearing through the thick photo paper, right through so that the girl is totally separated from the boys.

I look over the new picture, my two sons having fun there. I place that just underneath the monitor, sticking it there with a tiny piece of tape. I carefully place the frame in one of the drawers by my side.

Without looking, I crumple up the other half of the photo and throw it into the waste bin beside me.

[rjzimmerman]

I’m not sure the critics are correct. If I recall President Biden’s climate plan, he generally addresses the need for climate adaptation and resilience. But, if he doesn’t, it kind of makes sense. When I first started learning about climate change, the concepts of “adaptation” and “resilience” were ignored or actively rejected by some climate activists. Why? Because planning to adapt to potential damages, changes in the landscape and public health issues caused by a changing climate was considered defeatist.......if we plan to adapt, then we admit we can’t successfully address the causes of the change. That was considered the Charlie Brown dark cloud. And that would be where President Biden comes from, perhaps. Regardless, he needs to address adaptation and resilience, because we aren’t doing a very good job of avoid the causes of climate change.

Excerpt from this story from the New York Times:

Just weeks from the start of hurricane season, climate experts warn that Mr. Biden’s administration has yet to take steps that would turn his pledge to “build back better” into reality. They cite its failure to reinstitute a rule on building in flood zones that former President Donald J. Trump scrapped, its lack of an overarching climate resilience strategy and the fact that it has yet to hire senior staff to manage and coordinate that work.

“You can’t simply say, we’re going to have resilient infrastructure, without having a plan and definition for what that means,” said Alice Hill, who oversaw climate resilience during the Obama administration.

The concerns raised about Mr. Biden’s actions so far highlight the difference between two distinct areas of climate action. In addition to cutting the emissions of planet-warming gases, experts are increasingly urging the federal government to help prepare communities for the effects of that warming, such as worsening storms and rising seas.

Those policies, which experts call climate adaptation, can be unpopular: They can include tougher and more expensive building standards in areas exposed to flooding or hurricanes; allowing fewer homes to be built in those places to begin with; or even encouraging people to leave.

The difficulty of talking about those steps is exactly why Mr. Biden’s administration needs to make them part of its climate agenda, said Robert Freudenberg, vice president for energy and environment at the Regional Plan Association, a planning group in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut.

A White House spokesman, Vedant Patel, said in a statement that “bolstering resilience and adaptation is a critical priority for President Biden.”

The administration has also worried climate resilience experts with its hiring decisions.Mr. Biden created an office within the White House to coordinate domestic climate policy across agencies, staffed by experts in energy and other issues. But no one in that office focuses on resilience and adaptation policy.Instead, those issues will be coordinated from the Council on Environmental Quality, viewed as a less powerful office. The council has yet to announce someone to fill that role.Nor has the White House nominated anyone to oversee resilience at the Federal Emergency Management Agency, among the most important jobs for climate resilience policy in the federal government.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 15: Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

The walls were painted sky blue, the carpet a faded warm brown hinting at many years passing along leaving a permanent tread. The walls were covered in several posters that James didn't recognize of bands, but also several hand done, and extremely accurate, drawings of dragons that someone had magicked to life for this kid, flying around through each others edges.

It was crowded, the sparse bit of walking space nonexistent with the eight of them all in here at once, hardly much bigger than Harry's cupboard; but the love and care that went into this room was evident.

Lily came forward towards a desk crammed into the back corner and brushed her hand against a greyling snoozing, little blue plums of smoke escaping from its pointed head, the back end of which wasn't quite done. It was clear details were still being added of feathers to the long extended tail.

"Well I officially have no clue where we are," Peter muttered. He'd been the lucky one to land on the bed, but he had automatically moved to the edge and crossed his ankles, swinging his feet uncomfortably like he expected the occupant to appear and tell him to take his shoes off.

"Hey, wasn't one of Ron's brothers a dragon trainer or something?" Alice asked, leaning against the door with the book already in her hands.

"Dragon keeper," the older Black corrected with a look of disgust, clearly unable to grasp the concept of why anyone would want such a thing.

"I'm getting the feeling Harry's going to have some interactions with him then," she returned pleasantly, then read out the chapter title.

Black groaned in disgust and shook his shoulders like he was trying to shake off a nat before slouching over to the window and prodding along the edge like he was going to try and jump out.

"He has a thing against dragons," Potter pleasantly informed all of them needlessly.

Regulus frowned in sympathy, but knowing his brother would only snap his head off if he tried to say anything, he instead went back to investigating the picture. He was sure no one else had even noticed it, but he'd landed right in front of what must be the Weasley family.

It sat proudly against the wall, coupled in with so many other pictures of things it probably went unnoticed despite the red haired family. Regulus couldn't take his eyes off of it. He could easily identify the twins, chasing each other around every inch of available grass and weaving in between their fathers legs who was juggling the infant, whatever that little girls name had been, and who must be Ron hanging off his dad's arm to get his attention. The mother had her arms around the last three all at once, and looked exasperated, but the adoring smile on her face showed she wouldn't be anywhere else.

There was no other context, no telling what was going on before or after it was taken, why the kids were all so rambunctious or who had even taken the photo. It simply captured the moment of the one clear thing Charlie enjoyed in his life, the chaos of his family. It was baffling! All Regulus had ever known was the structure of his family tree, the rules and consequences through watching Sirius break those.

The story wasn't progressing with much interest to anyone even when Hagrid arrived. None knew him that well, so maybe he was always shifty when asked a direct question, though the oddity of him being in the school library when he'd never been known there before was keeping their attention. Ron's discovery just made it all click in a despicable way.

"A dragon! That mad gamekeeper has a dragon in his cabin! A Norwegian Ridgeback on top of everything!"

Remus covered his ears for the volume, but still looked more sympathetic than anything for Sirius' screeching.

"If I ever catch that man doing anything of the sort now I'll add him to my list right after I-"

"Alright Padfoot," James easily roped his arm around him to cut off what three just saw as a tantrum. Those who did know could only wince in sympathy with no real words of comfort for this. James kept trying anyways, "there's no dragons here-"

Then he cut off with a wince at his own stupidity as Sirius snorted in disgust and had to fight back the temptation to burn the walls into real fire.

"What's his problem?" Frank muttered to Alice.

"As if I know," she reminded. She was tempted to ask Regulus who clearly knew, but even though she could see his face he hadn't looked away from the wall this whole time, was still making no attempts to reach out and communicate with any of them, and she wasn't going to force her hand.

Lily, honestly felt a bit of pity for this. She'd never stopped to consider any of them with actual fears, human moments like Black was now showing. All she'd ever seen was their likes, one like to be exact, of their horrid ways against her friend. Now she was watching Potter, all three of them try to comfort their friend in by far the kindest thing she'd ever seen.

His mood only worsened when the kids went to Hagrid's, Hagrid only confirmed what none of them were surprised about. It made sense all of the teachers and not just Quirrell would put up some protection for this thing Dumbledore was protecting. No, it just kept going downhill that there was indeed an egg roasting away in Hagrid's fireplace.

"I actually kind of liked the three headed dog, that was cool once it wasn't trying to eat him anymore! The troll was a menace, but at least manageable! Your kid just couldn't stop there Prongs! A dragon, and it's all Hagrid's fault," Sirius kept up his insistent mutter, trying to push the arm away and get the dang window open that no force of magic or willpower was accomplishing. He was boiling up in here, he could swear those little flickers coming from the end of the dragon's nostrils were coming to life and fixing to leap right off the page towards him-

"Breath Pads," Moony was trying to soothe by instead changing the subject. Which actually made Malfoy feel useful for the first time. "Let's focus instead on plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled."

"Why do you think he didn't just run off and tell on them?" Peter did ask curiously. "What does he have to gain by sitting on this information?"

"Don't know," James begrudgingly said, "but it's the first actual intelligent thing he's done. Looking for an advantage rather than just jumping around to get them in trouble."

Regulus looked up and around at them in surprise, it was the first kind thing he'd ever heard them say about a Slytherin. Then he just assumed they were saying it to throw Sirius off, which wasn't really working. He frowned in a bit of concern now as his brother just got more silent and still when the dragon had hatched. His brother had never actually told them what had happened when he'd been left down in the Gringotts vault, but his parents hadn't paid it much concern since he couldn't have gotten inside to any of the importance, like the gold or heirlooms. Regulus had tried to ask, just out of curiosity, but Sirius had completely ignored him.

Now he was more irked than anything he'd clearly told his mates something, the obvious sympathy for him made that clear. He and Sirius may not have been getting on in recent years, but when had that amounted to he couldn't be told anything?

Alice had no liking for the beasts in particular, but the idea of a baby one was more charming than fearsome like Black seemed to find it, so she read on with cute little spirits about Hagrid's handling of this, up until it bit Ron.

"Okay, now we have a problem," Frank winced and took an extra step back from one particular orange faced lizard that had its fangs exposed. He overbalanced and fell on the bed next to Pettigrew, who raised a brow at him but otherwise ignored that.

"Norwegian Ridgebacks are poisonous," Lupin agreed in a still rather forced conversational tone, while his back was to everyone. He had poked his head under the desk curiously, and came back with a tiny little spindle chair which he nudge against Black, who seemed resistant to sitting down anymore than getting away from the window. "Hope he went to Madam Pomfrey, she never asks too many questions."

"I like to think even she'd demand where he got a dragon bite," Alice disagreed.

Lily flushed a bit but chose not to say anything, having personal experience with the matron not asking one to many questions from a few experimental potions accidents, so actually agreeing with one of the Marauders for once.

The decision to contact Charlie and his quick response was the best thing Sirius had heard this whole chapter, they were getting rid of that beast toot sweet! His small moment of happiness didn't last long.

Things only got worse for the kids dealing with this mess when Malfoy still managed to make everything worse. Thankfully the kids didn't derail their plan for this, Sirius had never heard of a better use of their cloak than riding that monster from their grounds! He just couldn't stop his imagination going haywire, that thing growing larger by the moment and getting loose on the grounds and then roaring so loud his ears started bleeding all while trying to shoot fire that just missed him from the tiny alcove he'd managed to squeeze himself into by the grace of Padfoot. That cart trundling away without him in it, his Uncle Cygnus, and Aunt Druella apparently deaf to his calls to come back. He could still swear he saw Bellatrix laughing as she slipped the goblin something when they turned the corner-

He'd been sat down in the chair without his noticing, Remus' hand firmly on his shoulder and smiling kindly down at him. He wasn't sure what he'd been saying, but it suddenly occurred to him that the weeks he'd been having his blowout with Moony had actually been the longest stretch of time he hadn't had to think about that. Even the weekly potions classes with its kindling cauldrons or some scaly beast Professor Kettleburn had brought to class had managed to remind him of the incident all year.

So lost in his mind, he'd completely missed the part where Malfoy had been caught by McGonagall, and he forced a laugh as Moony quietly explained it to him until Charlie's friends arrived. He'd kiss them both for taking this thing away, though just as likely never go within arms reach of anyone mad enough to handle these beasts for a living. "That whole incident was entirely pointless!" Sirius kept up his furious mutterings he'd been carrying this whole time. Alice was honestly impressed he hadn't run out of breath. "What was the point of that I ask you? It certainly could have been left out and saved me-"

So invested was he in his own rantings, he nearly missed the ending horror of Filch discovering them without their cloak. They got not a single second to live in their shock before they were once again torn away.

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele WW2 Extension - In My Blood

June 6, 1944 – Bayeux, France, 1330hr

The small city was bustling with American, Canadian, and British soldiers, all working to clear the area and check in on the civilians after the liberation from German control. Things were moving swiftly and Operation Overlord was seemingly working its way to being a success; but victory was far from near. The hospital in Bayeux was quickly used for military medical supplies and the wounded were arriving by the dozens to be treated.

Frances Besson was one of the first nurses to arrive at the hospital. She had been among the group of nurses who were parachuted in behind the lines and right away she was getting to work. Men were tended to and treated quickly and effectively and she sweet talked them just enough to keep them out of their own minds for a little while their wounds were tended to.

She soon found herself on the front steps of the hospital, helping to direct the incoming men from surrounding battles, both wounded or those who came to liberate. An American truck drove into the courtyard out front of the hospital and from her view up the front steps, Frances could briefly see a far glimpse of Charlie’s familiar face, Richie resting with him in the back of the truck alongside the American paratroopers.

“Richie! Charlie!” Frances called loudly, raising her hand to get their attention as she rushed down the hospital steps, dodging other nurses and soldiers as she held her apron up as to not trip. The truck stopped along the side of the dirt paved round-about as Frances reached the bottom of the stairs.

Charlie had noticed her by then, his face flat as he eyed her beaming grin from the few metres between them, Richie still laying limp over his lap. As she got closer to the truck, Frances noticed the blood that stained Charlie’s uniform, hands, and the puddles that were forming on the floor, and she slowed right down from her excited run to a slow hesitant walk. Charlie couldn’t look at her. He shut his eyes tightly and bowed his head as she stared at the body that he held in his arms, her eyebrows furrowing together for just a moment as she processed what she was looking at.

She stopped walking.

Charlie let out a choked sob, a fresh wave of tears trickling down his cheeks, as the American soldiers shuffled out of the truck to let him have a moment alone.

Frances couldn’t move for a moment, staring at the blood-soaked body that was draped over Charlie’s lap, shard of metal still sticking up through the clean tear in the uniform. The matted brown hair was all too familiar to her and she quickly snapped into her protective mode after the initial shock. She rushed over and stepped up onto the back of the truck, staring down at the young man laying in Charlie’s arms with his eyes closed gently and his lips lightly pouted, and Frances pulled him strongly out of Charlie’s grasp.

“I’m sorry.” Charles cried.

“Richie.” Frances breathed shakily, carefully resting him down against the floor of the truck. She set her trembling hand against his cheek, “Hey, buddy, it’s Frankie. I need you to keep holding on for me, okay?”

She turned to look back towards the hospital, shouting for backup and a few supplies. No one moved.

“I’m sorry.” Charlie repeated through his tears.

Frankie stared down at her younger brother, petting her hand over his tangled brown hair and refusing to even think about checking for a pulse. She glanced up again, seeing the group of nurses nearby only staring silently at them, the few soldiers in the area doing the same. No one was moving.

“I said get me some fucking linens and a stich, goddammit!” Frances screamed across the courtyard.

“Frankie…” Charlie whimpered lightly.

“Can I get no backup when I ask for it?!” Frances shouted to those around them, “He’s my…” her voice broke, and her volume wavered but she yelled just as passionately, “my baby brother…for fuck’s sake…”

“I’m sorry.” Charlie sobbed as he could nearly feel her pain through her words.

“He’s not…” Frances couldn’t even say the word as she leaned over Richard’s body again, her hand falling gently to his chest and pulled out the small photograph that was peeking from inside his breast pocket. The blood-stained faces of her family stared back at her. She couldn’t hold back her whimper as she tucked it back into his pocket and pressed down a little on his chest. She tried to convince herself with a shaky, “He’s not gone. He can’t be.”

Charlie looked away as she bent right down over him, soaking her white nurses’ uniform in dark red that pooled underneath them. She pressed her hand to his cheek, trying to ignore the terribly pale colouration of his skin.

“Richie.” Frances shook him a little, her voice strained in rough desperation. “Richard, please look at me. This isn’t funny anymore. Come on, Richie. Please. Please open your eyes, buddy.”

“Frankie…” Charlie whimpered, “He’s…he’s not gonna wake up.”

“Don’t say that.” she snapped, turning to look up at him with tears brimming in her brown eyes. She looked around helplessly for something…anything, “I can…I can still save him.”

It felt as if the world was stopped, as if the whole city of Bayeux was frozen in time, watching the heartbreaking scene unfold in the back of the truck. The nurse trying to save her most important patient, too many hours since he had been lost. She gently pried open his eyelids and the lifelessness in his grey eyes had her heart shattering in her chest. Frances had seen all too much of death in the years past but seeing the evil existence of it in her own brother’s eyes felt all too terrifying.

Charlie watched as she slipped off her knees to rest back against the side of the truck bench, her face scrunching up in what looked like her own form of agony and she held the back of her hand under her nose to try and keep herself calm. Frances shut her eyes tightly and let out a small sob, heavy tears dripping down her cheeks and she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes to try and smother them. Charlie shifted off the bench opposite her and sat down with her to pull her into an embrace.

Frances wept loudly, clinging onto him as he consoled her the best he could, eyes locked over her shoulder to the body of their brother lain over the floor of the truck. Charlie felt like he didn’t have any tears left, his whole body feeling quite numb, watching a few other men come over to take the body away.

“No.” Frances pushed Charlie away so she could lunge for Richard and she grabbed onto his wrist, “Don’t take him!”

“Nurse Besson, we’ve got to get back to work.” the matron nurse instructed as kindly as she could from a few feet off.

“I don’t care!” Frances yelled, sitting up on her knees to grab Richard around his chest to try and pull him away from the men who had started to remove the body. “He’s scared of being alone! He needs to stay with me! I’m his older sister; I need to protect him!”

“Miss Besson, it’s time now.” the matron said.

“No, it’s not! They can’t take him!” Frances shook her head, lunging forward to grab onto him again, “Please, God, don’t take him!”

Charlie set his hand on her shoulder and gently tried to pull her back, his face a perfect mix of expressionless yet completely shattered. The men carefully took a more steps.

“Richie!” Frances sobbed, keeping her hand clutching at the sleeve of his uniform. “Richard! Please, God!”

Her hand slipped off his arm and she shrieked through her tears, Charlie grabbing her around the waist just before she could throw herself after him. He held her as she cried, his cheek pressed to her back until he could feel each of her shuttering breaths as they watched Richard being taken away to join the rest of the lost souls of the invasion.

They both lost a brother that day.

Taglist: @randomlimelightxxx​ @hopinglimelight​ @jonahlovescoffee​ @hiya-its-amber​ @chanelwonders​

[somedayonbroadway]

Little Albie

And we’re back with more BMW AU. I have the next scene written already too, and I’m somewhat excited about it, but I wanted to write this scene too because it’s pretty cute.

Okay, please find the BMW master list here! And please enjoy!

Jack was dozing on the couch. It had been a long day. He was genuinely exhausted.

Something was on his chest. In his daze, he didn’t think anything of it. Not until something started liking his face. “Katherine... Katherine, stop it...” he moaned.

That is, until something above him squealed.

His eyes shot open as he squirmed, trying to dodge the animal but only seemed to get the thing riled up more as he sat up. He spit, trying to get the saliva off of him as he quickly stood and shoved the small, baby pig behind him. “Race!” he yelled, only to find the kid standing in his kitchen, laughing to himself. “Racer, we had a deal! He ain’t allowed ta be near me when I’m sleepin’!” he stated.

Race could only giggle. “Sorry...”

“We had ground rules,” Jack insisted again. “You can keep the pig—“

“Little Albie,” the boy corrected.

Rolling his eyes, Kelly took a breath, glancing back at the small thing that was now on his couch. “Little Albie,” he sighed. “But he’s yours. I ain’t gonna raise him. I hardly wanna hear from him. Got it?”

Nodding along, Race agreed. “Yeah... I got it,” he promised, a small smile still on his face. It was only then that Jack looked down to find a small bottle in his student’s hand. He nodded at him and then turned to walk into his room, leaving Race in the main room by himself. “Pig hater...” he muttered.

“I heard that!” Jack yelled back. Race looked up to find his guardian’s door still open. He smirked.

But he continued over to the couch. “It’s okay, Little Albie... You’s just thirsty, huh?” he asked, carefully bringing the bottle up to the animal’s mouth.

The pig started sucking at it immediately.

He held the little guy in his lap, not looking up when Kelly’s front door opened up and his two best friends walked in.

Albert with a smile and JoJo who only had eyes for the pig. “Race, I thought you were going ta find Little Albie a new home,” she said, causing Al’s smile to drop immediately.

Race shook his head. “Who eva’ said I was gonna do that?”

JoJo squinted at him and gestured to the animal. “Look... Race, I think it’s great that you wanted ta save the pig from your old trailer park... maybe you feel like—“

“This has nothin’ ta do with needin’ savin’ from where I grew up, okay?” the boy defended immediately.

The tone was harsh and cold, so JoJo took a breath and began again, gentler this time. “All I’m trying to say is, it’s not fair f’r the pig ta be cooped up in an apartment like that. It ain’t good for him...”

“Well, I disagree,” Racer countered, petting the pig as he ate. “I happen ta think farm animals make great pets.”

Albert crossed to the kitchen, not wanting to get in the middle of his girlfriend and his best friend’s argument. “And why’s that?” JoJo asked.

Race just grabbed for the book on the end table beside him and help it up. Farm Animals Make Great Pets, it read.

And JoJo snorted. “I know you love him now, but what happens when he grows up, weighs five hundred pounds and stops moving?”

“Hey, I never stopped lovin’ Aunt Gloria!”

Jack leaned against the wall beside the entrance to his room, chuckling a little at the comment, but listening intently to the conversation. These kids were just so... interesting.

“Race... I called animal control...”

At that, Tony’s eyes widened. He held the small pig closer to his chest. And Albert stormed back over, shocked. “You did what?!”

“I told them there was a pig that needed a good home,” she explained simply, still believing she’d done the right thing.

“He has a good home!” Race argued, suddenly feeling betrayed and hurt.

Jack could hear it in his voice.

The blond boy on the couch growled and picked his new pet up in his arms, heading for the door. “I’m goin’ ta hide him. Albert, are ya comin’?”

Albert looked between his two favorite people in the world. JoJo looked angry he was even considering it. But Albert nodded at his best friend. “Yeah... yeah, I’m comin’...”

Jack stepped into the doorway of his room and looked out into his apartment. JoJo was the only kid left. “You okay?” he asked, as soon as he knew the two boys were gone.

The girl ignored the question. “Mr. Kelly, I know you don’t like the pig... so why do you let Race keep it?”

Jack shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s important ta him... I think your theory might be right... maybe he feels like it needed ta be saved from the place he grew up in... but he takes good care a’ the little guy,” he smiled. He crossed the room towards his student that he knew for sure should not be alone with him in his apartment. “Look, kid, a life like Tony’s ain’t easy. That pig... he wants to believe it needs him... and maybe it does, I dunno... but I do know that Racer’s been alone for a lot of his life n’ now he’s finally startin’ ta feel like that maybe ain’t true no more...”

JoJo nodded, looking guilty all of the sudden. “Mr. Kelly... I made a mistake...”

—

“Ya sure he’s gonna be safe here?”

“Tones, if I know my girlfriend, she didn’t even call animal control—“

Albert was cut off by the doorbell ringing and a knock on the door. “Animal control!” someone called.

And Albert frowned. “Well... I guess I know nothing...” he sighed, stomping over to the door and opening it where he found a man waiting for him in a brown uniform and hat.

The man nodded towards Race. “So, you must be Antonio Higgins,” he said, opening up a small notepad.

Race nodded. “Yeah... how’d you know that?”

“Blond hair, 5’6’’, answers to the name ‘Antonio Higgins’,” the man read, allowing himself into the house.

The blond boy turned to his best friend. “Wow, he’s good,” he breathed.

“Alright, let save ourselves some time. You got a pig. I want him.”

Race let Albert shut the door and he turned to the man. “This pig you speak of... could you describe him?”

The chubby, scruffy man rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, he looks like a great big lion,” he stated sarcastically, glaring at the fourteen year old.

And Race smirked. “Well that’s not our pig!” he stated.

“Cause we don’t have one!” Albert chimed in quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets nervously. “Now, Mr. Animal Control Guy, I must insist that ya leave my house at once or I’ll be forced to call the Animal Control Control People,” he smirked. “Ain’t that right, Racer?”

Race grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure is, Albie...” He only caught his mistake when his pig came running downstairs at the sound of his name. “Okay! Who shaved the dog?” he tried to cover.

But the man rolled his eyes and grabbed the walkie from his belt. “Control? We got a pig!”

The little pig ran around the man’s feet as he pulled out a leash and connected it to Little Albie’s collar. “Well, I hope your happy! You’re takin’ that pig from a nice home!”

It was then that Albert heard the genuine hurt in his friends voice. To him, this wasn’t some joke.

“Look, kid, I’m not in this to break hearts. This neighborhood isn’t zoned for pigs,” the animal control guy sighed. “But between you and me? I got a twenty foot boa in my truck I’ll slip you,” he winked, patting the boy on the shoulder.

Racer sighed, shaking his head. “Can I at least say goodbye ta him?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Fine. But don’t try to run. I got a guy out back,” he stated.

Albert squinted. “Do ya really?”

“I don’t know. Are ya feeling lucky?”

Race just picked up his pet and held him in his arms. Something in him felt hallow. He couldn’t place it. Maybe he’d wished someone had done that for him before he’d been passed off to some other adult who didn’t want to take care of him. “It’s okay, little guy... I’m gonna visit you, I promise... I know what it’s like ta be passed from home ta home...” He scratched the little pigs head and Little Albie licked his cheek, making Tony laugh. “Okay, okay... here ya go—“

He was cut off by the door opening. JoJo rushed in. “Stop! You can’t take that pig!”

“Josephine De La Guerra, dating Albert DaSilva...” he stated, once again reading from his notepad. He looked towards Race. “I’m way over qualified for this job.”

JoJo rolled her eyes. “After I was talking to ya, I found an ad in the paper f’r a lost pig! And I called its owners, so ya don’t have to take him away,” she explained quickly, smiling over at her friend. “Isn’t that great, Tony?”

Race still held the little piggy in his arms. “Still have to lose him... so—“

“Here’s the owner!” JoJo stated.

Jack ran in, looking relieved. “Hey! Hi, my name’s Kelly!” he stated, easily falling into the lie. Race allowed himself a small smile as Jack gently scooped Little Albie out of his hands. “Oh thank you so much for findin’ him! He ran off, didn’t ya, buddy?” He spoke like he actually liked the pig.

Race’s heart melted when he saw Jack smile down at the thing.

“It belongs ta my boy, Charlie... we live right outside the city...”

“Really?” Tony asked, his voice filled with hope. Jack smiled up at him.

But the animal control guy narrowed his gaze. “This really your pig?”

Jack smirked. “No. I got an ark outside n’ I’m just one pig short,” he joked.

But the guy didn’t seem to find that amusing. “Alright, that’s it, hands over your head! We’re goin’ downtown!” the guy barked.

Jack flinched a bit, but stood his ground. “What, ya serious?”

“No,” the guy deadpanned. “Two can play at the sarcasm game.”

Jack rolled his eyes and pet the pig’s head. And the stranger in the room waved in defeat. “Alright, give my best to Charlie,” he sighed, leaning towards Race. “And by the way, that boa offer is still on the table,” he winked.

Race grinned. “I’ll think about it. Ya got a card?”

The man scoffed, heading towards the door. “Yeah right. I don’t even have a badge,” he said as he exited.

And Jack waited until he left to hand the little animal back to Racer. “I must really like you...” he sighed.

Race grinned. “Thanks, Jackie...”

Jack just ruffled the boy’s hair and offered him a wink. “Sure, kid... but you should really be thankin’ JoJo... she’s the one who bailed ya out...”

Race nodded. “Thanks, Jo,” he breathed, hugging his little pet close to his chest. “Really...”

All the girl could do was nod. “I’m sorry, Tony. If he’s important ta you then... he’s important to me...”

Race smiled. Jack wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

And for that moment, all was well with the world.

[pulaasul]

Master of Death

It was supposed to be over.

Everyone was grieving and celebrating at the same time. The victory they garnered against Lord Voldemort's army was pretty bittersweet, they all lost so much during this war.

When someone new attacked.

FFN I AO3

----------

It was supposed to be over.

Everyone was grieving and celebrating at the same time. The victory they garnered against Lord Voldemort's army was pretty bittersweet, they all lost so much during this war.

Cedric Diggory, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey and Lavender Brown, were among the few students that died in the war.

Harry has just repaired his wand using the Elder Wand when someone yelled.

"Expelliarmus"

"Bloody Hell!"

"What in Merlin's name is happening?!"

The Elder Wand flew out of Harry's hands and into the gloved hands of someone wearing an unaffiliated black robe and a hood.

"Diffindo!"

"Confringo!"

"Stupefy!"

Ron and Hermoine fought back against unknown assailant but all their spells were deflected with the Elder Wand the unknown assailant had recently acquired.

"What in the blazes is happening?!"

Molly Weasely rushed to her son, as did the people inside the castle, when she heard Hermoine and Ron shouting spells outside.

"Who are you?!" Professor Mcgonagall raised her wand at the unknown person before her.

"Accio: Resurrection Stone; Accio: Cloak of Invisibility!"

The raised Elder Wand let out two balls of sky blue light that diverged into different directions.

The Weasely Matriach and Professor Mcgonagal didn't wait for the summoned objects to arrive when they began their attacks at the unknown assailant. They assaulted them with a barrage of non-verbal spells in succession, in the hopes of interrupting the spell they cast.

Taking cue from both women, the other wizards and witches, Harry, Hermoine and Ron included, attacked the unknown assailant with a barrage of verbal spells from stunning spells to petrifying spells.

However, none of them connected.

The man was probably protected by layers of shield charms, like the one the staff of Hogwarts summoned prior to Voldemort's attack.

"Stop!"

The unknown person yelled as soon as the summoned objects were on his hands.

"How did you know where to find the resurrection stone?!" Harry demanded.

"Tell me, people of Hogwarts, do you want to reverse the deaths that happened because of this war?" The unknown person ignored 'the boy who lived'.

Everyone fell silent at the question.

All of them were inclined to say yes to the question, they have lost so many for this war. The Weasleys moreso than anyone else, having lost Fred a few hours prior.

"What has that got to do with us?" Harry questioned.

"Harry Potter, the boy who lived." The unknown person acknowledged the Potter. "You mean to tell me that you don't want someone dear to you, returned?" The person's head tilted, as if conveying confusion. "One Cedric Diggory or one Fred Weasely perhaps?"

"We all die." Harry countered. "The Deathly Hallows were created by Death to lure the three brothers to their demise." He stepped forward, as if challenging the assailant.

"Harry's right!" Ron stepped right beside Harry.

"Whatever you're offering is bound to kill us sooner rather than later." Hermoine declared.

"Ah, the story of Death and the Three brothers." The assailant nodded. "You three are quite knowledgeable despite not attending your last years at the school."

Murmurs erupted amongst everyone in the school grounds.

"It has been said that anyone possessing all three of the Deathly Hallows is the master of Death." The unknown person stated. "The Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand," They raised all three of the Deathly Hallows for everyone to see. "Being the Elder Wand's master grants me the immeasurable power and do things that was deemed impossible at first, such as Harry repairing his wand earlier."

Ron and Hermoine looked at their friend and the wand that he carried.

"The people resurrected by the Resurrection Stone don't belong to the mortal world anymore!" Hermoine argued. "That was how Death got to the second brother."

"The name of the stone is misleading." The unknown person chuckled. "This one simply summons the souls and appear before its owner."

"Prove it!" Ron yelled.

"Accio: Souls lost to Voldemort's quest for immortality."

A bright sky blue light shone from both the Elder Wand and Resurrection Stone.

One by one, souls of the people lost in the war appeared behind the unknown person from the previous war's casualties to the recent one's including: The Potters, the Bones, the Lupins, the members of the Order of the Phoenix and even Dumbledore himself.

Among them were the Death Eaters who served Voldemort dutifully and the innocents that were dragged into the war like one Cedric Diggory

"Wha-"

"How are you able to summon us?" The ghostly form of one Albus Dumbledore inquired.

"I am the current Master of Death." The hooded person shrugged.

"Cedric…" Cho trailed off.

"Hello Cho." Cedric greeted.

"Harry, thank you for fulfilling my wish." Cedric faced his fellow Triwizard champion expressed his gratitude.

"Anytime." Harry nodded. "It's the least I could do."

"Fred…"

"Hey George, Mom," Fred Weasely waived while adorning a sad smile. "Guess I won't need a broom anymore." He chuckled as he floated around

"I guess you don't." George managed to smile at the poorly-timed joke.

"George." Molly trailed off.

Molly knew how close her children were, even her estranged son, the twins more so with each other. She was crushed when she saw her son's body lay on the floor, her maternal heart couldn't take the take seeing the living twin's grief at the sight of his twin.

"What's the catch?" Charlie questioned.

"A life for a life."

Everyone looked at each other, living and dead alike, unsure how to proceed.

A lot of the survivors wanted for their dead loved ones return back to life, but they also knew it was useless to sacrifice themselves for their sake when it'd hurt the person they tried to resurrect.

The hooded figure couldn't help but nod at the scene they were seeing. They were clearly torn at the decision they were trying to make.

"Perhaps I should rephrase that, but first..."

Everyone stood attentively at that announcement.

"Accio: Slytherin Robes! Accio: Draco Malfoy's shirt!"

Another ball of sky blue light erupted from the Elder Wand and summoned the Slytherin students, who were wearing their robes, and the Malfoys, in front of the hooded figure.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Luscious Malfoy demanded. "Release my son at once!"

"Y-you're going to sacrifice all Slytherin students?" Neville questioned the figure.

Everyone gasped at the question.

A lot of the Slytherin students were fearful at the question's answer. A lot of them had sided with Professor Snape when he took over as Hogwarts' Headmaster. Some were even sons and daughters of Death Eaters, who had killed a lot of the students during the war.

Among the fearful people were the Malfoys, after what their family has gone through with Voldemort, here they were again thrust into an inescapable situation with Draco's life hanging in a balance once more.

"I simply wish for four sacrifices, one for each house, and return the fallen students of Hogwarts since Voldemort started his bid for immortality." The hooded figure stated. "I simply summoned the Slytherin students so we may have a complete audience."

"By that reasoning, you're only returning the students who died in the second war?" James Potter inquired.

"Unfortunately." The hooded figure shook their head. "The first war's young fatalities, died simply too far in the past."

"Which means Moaning Myrtle won't be included." Hermoine gasped.

"No, she was never a candidate in the first place." The unknown figure shook their head. "Her death happened before Voldemort rose into power for the first time."

"What about Cedric?" Harry questioned. "He was Voldemort's first casualty in his second war."

The hooded figure looked towards the ghostly Hufflepuff in silence, as if contemplating on how to answer the question.

"Technically, I didn't die in the war." Cedric spoke up. "It's okay Harry, it wasn't your fault."

The Hufflepuff students who looked up to Cedric were silent. They had blamed the Harry Potter for Cedric's death, they might not have been so open about it like when he was chosen as the fourth champion, but the resentment was still there. They had realized far too late that 'the boy who lived' carried the guilt of carrying the corpse of Hufflepuff's champion as well.

The Gryffindors on the other hand knew of Harry's struggles with his guilt towards Voldemort's first kill, especially the members of Dumbledore's Army. They even had the guy's picture as inspiration for the army.

"Standing here will get us nowhere." The hooded figure declared. "I will leave you to choose who your sacrifices will be."

"Take me!" Harry declared, not waiting for any discussion.

"Harry!" Hermoine and Ron protested.

Harry simply looked at his best friend and their protests ceased. Both Hermoine and Ron knew all the struggles Harry had endured during his seven years interacting with the Wizarding World.

"It's alright, I'm supposed to be dead anyway." Harry offered sadly.

"I'll represent the Ravenclaws." Luna offered.

A number of the Ravenclaw Students, especially those who were in Luna's year audibly gulped at the declaration.

Things were forcibly put into perspective starting from Cedric's death during the Triwizard tournament. There were things a lot more important than making fun of someone different. That perspective was hammered even more into their psyches during Umbridge's Tenure as professor of the school, and Headmaster Dumbledore's death.

Some of them have even realized that their actions had been no different than Voldemort's.

"Harry, Luna you two can't be serious!" Neville protested.

"I am." Harry looked right into Neville's eyes.

"I do hope death is personable and not as nasty as the nargles or heliopaths." Luna smiled.

"I doubt it." Harry shook his head.

"I'll go as well." Hermoine stepped forward.

"Hermoine!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermoine simply looked at Ron with eyes full of sorrow. It conveyed all the suffering she had gone through in the war. It may have seem out of character for her to do this, but it wasn't. After all, she had erased herself from her parent's memories. She really has no home to return to.

"I was already expelled from school, what's the worst that could happen?"

"If that's the case, I'm going as well."

"Stop right there Ronald Weasley!" Molly immediately protested. "I am not losing another son right after losing one in the same day!"

"But mum!" Ron tried to reason.

"We appreciate it Ron," The twins offered a sad smile. "But the two of us wouldn't want you dead."

"I'll go in Ronald's stead." Percy declared, stepping forward.

"Percy Ignatius Weasely!" Molly stomped towards her other son.

"I know mum, but it's the only way I can atone." Percy tried to explain.

Molly and Arthur were speechless at Percy's words. Percy has all but disowned his own family for supporting Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, it caused a huge rift between them

"Percy, you don't have to do this." George grabbed his older brother's arm.

Percy offered one more smile towards his siblings before pulling back Ron and took his place.

"Mostly Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw huh." The hooded figure hummed. "I would have preferred people from the houses they're actually in."

The hooded figure looked at the fearful and hopeful faces of the audience.

"I suppose you four will do." The unknown person nodded and faced Harry Potter. "As Harry was considered to be sorted into Slytherin, he'll represent the house." They then faced the Granger." Hermoine, who showed Ravenclaw qualities despite being in Gryffindor, also showed Hufflepuff qualities being hardworking and very loyal, you'll represent the Hufflepuff house."

"For anyone here who recently lost someone who is an adult, I deeply apologize." The hooded figure faced the audience. "I'm only returning the child soldiers and innocent children who were lost in this war."

"I, Professor Minerva Mcgonagal, Hogwarts's interim headmistress, will do everything in my power to find the orphaned children a loving home, even those children who will return from the dead parentless. If unsuccessful, Hogwarts shall take them in." Professor Mcgonagal declared, raising her wand into the air. "So mote it be."

White lines spread throughout Professor Mcgonagal's body from her wand to her feet as the magical vow took effect.

"That…" The hooded person trailed off. "That wasn't necessary, but I appreciate the sentiment Professor Mcgonagal."

"It was for the greater good." The Headmistress quoted her friend.

Dumbledore's ghostly figure smiled at the headmistress's vow.

"Well then it's time." The unknown figure declared. "I would like you four to step forward."

Harry, Luna, Hermoine and Percy followed the figure's instruction.

The unknown figure waved the Elder Wand and wore the Cloak of Invisibility, making their whole body, sans the hands holding the resurrection stone and Elder Wand, vanish from everyone's sights.

"Nefesh Tuob, Reenervate"

A white light erupted from the Elder Wand, blinding everyone in the area.

---------

"Ugh, could someone tell me what the books I was reading were?" Fred groaned as he sat up. "My head hurts."

Everyone looked back at the castle and they saw some of the people who were declared dead were getting up, groaning and complaining about everything hurting with George Weasely leading the charge.

They immediately went to assist the resurrected people and gave them as much comfort as they can offer, considering the state of things.

"You were reading books about Divination." George gave out a chuckle as tears fell from his face.

"No wonder I dropped dead." Fred gave out a strained laugh.

"I reckon someone's waiting inside the room of requirement." The hooded figure stated as soon as he removed the Cloak of Invisibility from their person.

"I'll go check it out." Cho volunteered.

As soon as Cho left for the Room of Requirement Harry, Hermoine, Luna and Percy all fell to the ground, seemingly lifeless.

The unknown person used the chaos that ensued and disapparated away from everyone, leaving behind the Elder Wand and the Cloak of Invisibility.

----------

The reveal that Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Hermoine Granger and Percy Weasely were alive was a huge relief for everyone present, the survivors and resurrected alike. They knew it wasn't fair for the four of them to sacrifice themselves after surviving alongside the horrors Voldemort's war had started.

A lot of them felt like they should clear the water between the parties.

The Ravenclaws were resolute in asking Luna for forgiveness.

The Slytherins owe one Harry Potter a great deal of debt, despite the grief they caused the boy for his whole stay at Hogwarts.

The Hufflepuffs were guilty for blaming the Gryffindors, Harry especially, for the death of their beloved Cedric Diggory.

The Gryffindors greatly appreciated the bravery that Harry showed despite the dangers he faced.

It was in the middle of the night when Harry regained consciousness when he saw a white stag let itself inside from an open window of the castle's hospital wing.

"Hello Young Harry." A disembodied voice came from the prancing white stag.

----------

As soon as everyone was rested, the surviving adults, including the ex-death eaters, repaired anything and everything in the castle that was destroyed by the war.

One of the very first places to receive such treatment was the Hospital Wing, which was repaired in lieu of the many injuries and deaths incurred in the war.

A few other places given priority for repairs were the Great Hall, the Kitchen and the Hufflepuff Basement. Professor Mcgonagal made it a priority to repair the aforementioned rooms so people can have clean place to eat and a place to stay for the evening.

The Hufflepuffs played hosts to the people who didn't need to be in the Hospital Wing, which included the people who were resurrected.

Back in his bed, was one Cedric Diggory.

After Cedric's death, it became an unspoken rule between the Hufflepuffs not to occupy his bed as a sign of respect and tribute to him. Only the fifth, sixth, and seventh year students knew of the real reason why no one has claimed the bed for themselves.

The younger Hufflepuffs respected that rule.

It just showed how fitting they were sorted into the house of Helga Hufflepuff.

Loyal to the very core.

Cho Chang had found Cedric inside the Room of Requirement, alongside Crabbe and Goyle, who were tied up with ropes.

"They attacked me." Cedric justified his action. "I defended myself and ensured that they can't attack me again."

"You didn't have to justify yourself." Cho rolled her eyes.

"There a few more of us inside," Cedric informed the Ravenclaw. "I'm guessing their bodies weren't at the Great Hall when we were resurrected."

"It's good to see you again Ced." One of the seventh years greeted as soon as they saw Cedric walk towards the common room. "I've already sent an owl to some of your friends, although some of them may think that I'm delusional." He informed the Diggory. "Considering what happened after the Triwizard tournament and how Harry was slandered."

"People were in denial." Cedric shrugged. "That proved to be my downfall." He admitted.

"How so?" Another seventh year asked.

"It really was my fault when I didn't believe Harry when he said there was danger." Cedric sighed. "Sure I had my wand out, fat lot that got me." He chuckled.

"We really owe Potter an apology huh?" The male seventh year questioned.

"More than an apology." The female seventh year sagged.

"Not just us." Cho added as she stood beside Cedric. "The whole Wizarding Britain owes Harry Potter a great debt."

"Got that right." The Weasely twins skipped in the common room.

"Pure bloods"

"Half Bloods"

"-and Muggleborns"

"-owe Harriekins a great debt."

Fred and George Weasely immediately got back to finishing each other's thoughts and sentences as they skipped around the room.

"Fred, mum said you shouldn't be up." Ginny groaned.

"But it's"

"-boring"

"-being cooped up inside."

"You both should really listen to mum, at least this time," Bill admonished the twins. "Especially you Fred."

"I reckon mum's going to baby you until she sees fit." Charlie chuckled.

---------

A lot of things happened over the course of the day.

As soon as everyone was fed, the adults continued repairing the castle, from the Astronomy tower to the house towers. By the time lunch arrived, the only place left in shambles were the administration offices, staff rooms and classrooms.

Madam Pomfrey and the other Mediwitches of Hogwarts were busy attending to the injured and resurrected alike. This was the first time magic was used to resurrect dead people, as such they were very accommodating and careful when tending to their patients.

Madam Pomfrey did have rules when it comes to the Hospital Wing that not even the headmasters dare to disobey, she wasn't also heartless as to deny the Weasely family some time for Percy and Harry.

"Blimey Harry, you four didn't have to do that." Ron exclaimed.

"I was prepared Ron." Harry offered a sad smile. "I went to see Voldemort, ready to die by his hands."

"You do know we still love you, right Percy?" Molly questioned her son.

"I had to do it mum." Percy sat up. "I was anything but a supportive sibling or a loving son." He lamented. "I wasn't there when George lost an ear, when Death Eaters began hunting you, I should've done something."

"Regardless of what happened." Arthur smiled at his son. "I'm just glad that you're relatively unharmed."

"Just know that you're forgiven."

---------

Word got out that Lord Voldemort was finally killed, for good. As such, wizards and witches who weren't at the front lines, or were fearful of the dark wizard, arrived at Hogwarts to check on their children.

It wasn't just Wizards and Witches that arrived in school, a lot of muggles were also in the school. It may have been in violation of the Statute of Secrecy but they gave birth to magically to gifted children, thus warranting their attention especially considering the final battlegrounds was the school itself.

The muggles were able to arrive in school were thanks to wizards and witches who married into muggle families and offered the muggle parents to reunite with their children who were in Hogwarts.

They were also given some enchantments so they could see Hogwarts in all of its glory after they arrived.

Imagine the everyone's surprise when they realized that some 'muggles' were actually squibs as they were able to see the school even when they didn't have access to a specific enchantment.

"Dean!" Dean's mother rushed to her son.

"It's alright mum, I'm fine." Dean hugged his mother.

"Seamus."

"I'm fine dad." Seamus let himself be held by his parents.

"I never thought I'd see the day where you would be in the front lines just like I was." Seamus's dad hiccuped.

"Colin! Dennis!" Mr. Creevey rushed to his sons and engulfed them in a tight hug.

The witnesses who knew of the Creevey brothers winced considering what might've been had that unknown figure not appeared on Hogwarts's grounds.

Colin's body was recovered by Neville and Oliver while Dennis's body was lost.

Dennis was among the resurrected that Cho found inside the sooted Room of Requirement.

"We're fine Dad." Colin grinned at his father.

"We beat those Death Eaters that came after us." Dennis declared.

Neville winced at the declaration, knowing full well what happened to the both of them.

One of the touching reunions however was between the Diggorys.

Cedric's mother apparated in front of her son and sobbed on his chest while Amos held his family in a tight hug as if not wanting for them to let go.

Professor Sprout and Professor Mcgonagal looked at the Diggorys with a sad smile. They knew how hard the Diggorys tried to cope with the loss of their only son that they almost self-destructed from grief.

"If I may have your attention please." Professor Mcgonagal rang her goblet with a spoon.

Everyone quieted down and listened to the headmistress.

Professor Mcgonagal decided to tell everyone what actually happened. She summarized what happened at Hogwarts and how many had sacrificed their lives for the cause.

She also mentioned the resurrection that happened soon after and the students who were resurrected by the supposed Master of Death.

As the Interim Headmistress announced the names of those who were resurrected, the parents of those students, especially the Creeveys and Browns, held unto their children as tight as they could.

"I will now give the floor to Madame Pomfrey," Professor Mcgonagal declared. "She wants to make an announcement of her own."

"Thank you Headmistress." Madam Pomfrey stood beside Professor Mcgonagal. "An unknown spell was used to resurrect the fallen students of Hogwarts, to make sure things are going as they should, I would humbly request for you to leave your children under our care and have them checked by St. Mungo's Mediwitches."

Murmurs erupted amongst everyone in the great hall.

The parents weren't sure how to process the request. They don't want to be separated with their children, knowing about the fact that they died in the first place.

"I assure you the process is harmless." Madam Pomfrey assured everyone. "We just want to make sure if all of their injuries, fatal or otherwise, have been properly healed due to the resurrection that happened."

Every parent looked at each other.

When one Amos Diggory voiced out.

"We agree."

Everyone looked at the Diggorys.

"There might be side effects to this spell, we've waited this long to be with them what's a day more." Mrs. Diggory reasoned out.

"We do have one request." Amos stated.

"We request an army of aurors into the school."

"Consider it done." Auror Shacklebolt nodded.

---------

Despite the assurances, most muggle parents didn't leave the school, if they did they were married to a witch or wizard.

In lieu of this development, Professor Mcgonagal had the Gryffindors play hosts towards the muggles who didn't leave the school as their children rested inside Hufflepuff's dormitories.

Earlier in the afternoon, the staff from St. Mungos arrived and gave diagnostic checkups unto the resurrected while the mediwitches turned their attention to the minor injuries that people had incurred during the war.

Some of the adults busied themselves to properly giving care to the deceased. They relocated the corpses by the lawn by the Quidditch Pitch.

That night, before the witches and wizard vacated the school premises, they paid respects for the deceased. Witches and Wizards raised their wands while the muggles simply bowed their heads in respect.

Madam Pomfrey had Harry, Hermoine, Luna and Percy give their respects by the window of the Hospital Wing and raised their respective wands. She had ordered for their bed rest once all four of them woke up.

Unbeknownst to everyone in attendance, someone pointed a wand at the people by the Quidditch Pitch. A green orb of light appeared on the figure's wand.

"Falsa Memoriae"

----------

As the sun rose anew, everyone was conversing happily by the Great Hall as they are breakfast.

"If I may have everyone's attention please." The Headmistress rang her goblet.

Everyone turned their attention to the interim Headmistress.

"It is my utmost pleasure to announce the full recovery of four heroes who offered themselves as sacrifices for the kidnapped students of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts thanks you for your services Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Hermoine Granger and Percy Weasely."

The four aforementioned persons walked towards the Headmistress's side.

"From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you four for rescuing our kidnapped children." Amos Diggory announced.

"I don't know what I would've done if my boys died in the war." Mr. Creevey sobbed. "It's one thing to fight in a war, it's another thing to offer yourselves in exchange for prisoners of war."

"I will say this, I didn't offer myself for selfless reasons," Percy stepped forward. "As soon as I got word that one of my younger brothers was taken and an exchange was necessary, I immediately offered myself."

Molly and Arthur held each other tightly as they listened to their estranged son's speech. The twins on the other hand emulated their parents' actions, feeling indebted to the brother they've been bitter towards.

"We owe you one Percy!"

"I intend to cash in on that debt, just you wait." Percy grinned.

"I was a muggleborn witch, during this war I obliviated my parents to keep them safe from the Dark Wizard." Hermoine admitted. "I was already expelled for being a muggleborn, nothing worse could happen."

"Blimey, you need to sort your priorities Hermoine." Ron snorted.

Hermoine simply smiled and rolled her eyes at the comment.

"On the night my parents were killed by Voldemort." Harry stepped forward. "My mother placed a sacrificial protection spell on me, letting me survive the killing curse for the first time. Most of my mentors figured that my death could spell his destruction, so I willingly sacrificed myself to end the war once and for all."

"I simply wanted to meet death and see if they are personable." Luna offered her reasons.

"Good old Luna Lovegood." Ginny chuckled.

"Regardless of your reasons." Auror Shacklebolt stood up. "We are all thankful for your sacrifice and that we avoided young casualties in this war."

----------

"When the time comes Harry, everyone will forget about the resurrection spell. It'd spell disaster if a spell as powerful as that was made public. Another war might ensue if this got out even if the Elder Wand's allegiances disappear with me.

To avoid such catastrophe from ever happening, everyone will need to forget about the deaths.

Hopefully in your future, nothing like the Cursed Child would ever happen."

The prancing stag faded from existence.

Another ethereal stag appeared from the window as soon as the first one faded.

"Be thankful for one Percy Weasely, his presence with the four of you made was how Fred Weasely managed to rejoin the land of the living."

The second stag promptly disappeared as soon as the message was delivered.

[chuffyfan87]

We Need To Talk... Part 3

Charlie glanced anxiously over at his in-tray for the third time in as many minutes as he sat in his office attempting to catch up on some paperwork. On top of the various memos and other supposedly important issues deemed to be requiring his urgent attention was two brown envelopes. One had his name printed on it, the other Duffy's.

The last two weeks had been stressful as they'd both attempted to carry on as normal. She'd been increasingly distant with him which hurt more than he'd expected.

Heaving another sigh Charlie got up from his desk and poked his head out the door, asking Susie to tell Duffy to come to his office when she next saw her. That done, he went back to attempting to focus on his paperwork.

About half an hour later he heard the door open behind him. "Its considered polite to knock..!" He grumbled without looking up.

"You summoned me.?!" Duffy retorted sarcastically, ignoring his rebuke.

"Oh, um, I didn't mean it to sound like a summons..." Charlie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as an awkward silence fell over them.

"Was there a reason you asked to see me?" Duffy asked after several moments of standing waiting for him to speak further.

"Ah, yes... These came." Charlie held up the envelopes.

"Oh..." Duffy replied as she nervously took hers from him. She looked down at the envelope. It looked so innocuous, a plain brown envelope with Miss L Duffin printed on the front. There was no indication of the fact that contained within was the news that could irreversibly alter the trajectory of her life and career forever.

"Look, I know we said we'd open them together but I totally understand if you'd rather do it on your own."

"No, let's just get this over with shall we?"

The only noise in the room was the sound of the envelopes being torn open and the letters unfolded.

Charlie breathed a silent sigh of relief as he read the word 'negative' in bold type on the page. The feeling was shortlived however as he looked up to see that Duffy had burst into tears, the letter shaking in her hands. "Oh Duffy... Hey, come here..." He pulled her into his arms.

Though panicked by what her letter may say Charlie pushed that aside and focused on trying to calm Duffy's tears, a task that took several minutes. Eventually she looked up at him. He brushed his thumbs over her tearstained cheeks. "What did you letter say?" He asked softly.

"Its negative. I don't have the virus."

"Then why the tears?" Charlie asked, somewhat bemused.

"You can be such an idiot sometimes Charlie Fairhead!" Duffy retorted with a small smile.

"Thanks!" He chuckled, pulling her back into another hug. "You had me really scared there for a moment." He admitted.

She moved her head and caught his eye. "It scared you that I might be ill?" The idea seemed alien to her.

"Of course it scared me! I really care about you."

Duffy blushed, seeing the truth of his words in Charlie's eyes. "I... I should get back to work." She stammered slightly, pulling away from his embrace. "Can we keep this just between us?"

"Of course we can." Charlie promised. "One last thing before you go..?"

"What's that?" She asked, her palm resting on the door handle.

He stepped towards her and kissed her softly. "I really am glad that you're OK." He whispered.

"So am I." She replied before leaving him alone in his office once more.

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 124: Lion 4: Alternate Ending

“Please tell me my destiny.”

We’ve had Ronaldo as a toxic gatekeeping fan intent on harassing the creator. We’ve had Lars as a disappointed fan whom the creator is desperate to impress. We’ve even had Navy as a false fan who’s only interested in robbing the creator’s spaceship (arguably a rarer breed than the first two). So now it’s time for the obsessive clue-hunter, who parses through the creation so deeply that the original meaning gets lost in the shuffle. And this time, our fan stand-in is Steven.

Lion 4: Alternate Ending is an episode about Steven trying to ruin Lion 3: Straight to Video. All the magic from that first glimpse of Rose Quartz threatens to be extinguished through overanalysis, to the point where his discovery of a new tape is met with dread instead of excitement. For all the Steven Universe fans that get frustrated by Steven not being as invested in the lore as they’d like, well, this is what happens when Steven gets as invested in the lore as you’d like. 

To be clear, I don’t think Steven succeeds in ruining Lion 3, especially because the conclusion of Lion 4 manages to enhance its predecessor. I also don’t think it’s a bad thing that he tries: it fits his post-Storm in the Room state to tear through whatever evidence he's got to figure out why he was born, and it’s properly painful to see him so desensitized to the wonder of Rose’s tape that he’s reduced it to a possible decoded message. What better way to express how Steven feels than tainting a pivotal moment with his mother?

I’m super into stories where a mystery to the characters isn’t a mystery to the viewer: the core example is Cowboy Bebop episode Speak Like a Child, where our 2070s crew is trying to solve the case of a strange antique object that a 1990s audience already knows is a videotape (although a fifth of the way through the twenty-first century, we’re already getting removed from an era where modern audiences would know what a Betamax is, even as a cultural relic). Because the writers don’t have to try to fool us, we can focus more on how the characters tackle a problem instead of trying to beat them to the punch with our own deduction skills. I wouldn’t call Lion 4 the most concrete example of this sort of story, as it’s not impossible that Rose was leaving encrypted messages behind, but to me at least the “twist” that Rose’s tape wasn’t part of some dubious master plan is obvious enough that I can just enjoy the ride.

“Enjoy” is perhaps the wrong word, because while this is an excellent episode, it’s not a fun one. There are comedic moments, because this is still Steven Universe, but watching a kid at the end of his rope struggling to understand his place in the world is bound to be harrowing stuff. Steven’s determination is compounded by his solitude: the Crystal Gems are pointedly absent, as the last time he asked them for answers his dad got abducted to a space zoo and it’s easy to confuse correlation with causation. So it’s just Steven and Lion for most of the episode, and it’s telling that Lion answers Steven’s final cry for help by bringing him to see his dad. Some things can only be fixed by talking, and for all his strengths, Lion isn’t a great conversationalist.

Before we get to Greg, this Steven/Lion solo outing uses constant activity to sidestep the dullness factor that bogged down Steven’s Lion. After a strong first impression of Steven’s mental state as he scours Rose’s tape for clues, going so far as to try to find meanings in anagrams, Lion revs up the plot by retching up a giant key. I love that Steven’s first thought is the same as mine, and likely yours: the chest in Lion’s mane that we first saw in Lion 3, which unlike Bismuth remained a mystery (and it still is, because we never saw what Steven found in there between Change Your Mind and the movie). Even though the key is comically oversized, Steven ignores the obvious and keeps trying to make it fit. So right off the bat, we get two little stories about Steven looking for answers where there clearly aren’t any and doubling down despite the futility out of sheer desperation for the truth.

From here we get a montage of past locations a la Marble Madness and Warp Tour, accompanied by a gorgeous medley of location themes from Aivi and Surasshu; I will never not complain that we don’t get to have an album of their scoring, because this episode’s soundtrack is one of their best. Visiting the Armory harks back to Lion 2 as the tape did for Lion 3, and we also get a glimpse of Rose’s Fountain and Rose’s Room to continue our references to the many known areas tied to Steven’s mom. When nothing works, Steven pleads with Lion for more information, aware by now that the cat has some answers.

While I’m not huge on Steven’s Lion as an episode due to the aforementioned dull pace, it’s awesome to see our heroes return to where Lion was first found. Buddy’s Book already did a great job of reminding us of Lion’s desert home, but now it’s time to finally investigate the area further. 

Jesse Zuke and Raven Molisee paired up for our last episode, leaving their usual respective partners Hilary Florido and Paul Villeco at bat for Lion 4. The ragtag team has so far given us rich visuals, with a particularly expressive Steven and Lion (crucial for the non-talking member of the duo) and a callback to the lovely settings of the past, but every aesthetic choice they make is topped by the desert run. It’s a beautiful shot, evoking the iconic ocean run of Lion 2, but Steven’s exhaustion (aided by Zach Callison’s beleaguered performance as he narrates his thoughts) tinges the scene with melancholy where there was once only magic. Steven’s desperation is no longer the frenzied need from when Greg was kidnapped, or even from the beginning of this very episode, but has been worn down to a weary determination that just breaks your heart. This is Charlie Brown after a yanked football too many; he hasn’t been thrown a single bone in his search for answers, and this might be his last chance.

I try not to include too many images in these reviews, because they can mess with the flow of the text, but screw it this shot is also amazing:

The pyramid-like structures leading to the locked door are the first we see of a new hidden getaway, and retrospect makes Steven’s plight even worse: as we learn in Legs From Here to Homeworld, all he had to do was touch one of them to get a major hint about Rose’s true identity. 

It wouldn’t have solved everything, as Garnet would likely assume they were spoils of war, Amethyst wouldn’t recognize them, and Pearl would keep her mouth shut. And it would’ve ruined the pacing of the mystery for such a strange hint to be presented, so from a storytelling perspective it makes total sense to keep this in the backburner. And it’s not like it’s that weird that Steven doesn’t feel compelled to touch what seems to be a couple of statues when he’s spent the whole episode looking for a lock and it’s right in front of him and he just survived hours of desert travel. But knowing what we know now adds to the drama of how close our hero is to the truth he deserves.

In yet another bummer, Rose’s hidden landfill is worn down to the point where most of the walls had collapsed, meaning Steven didn’t even need the key. Which isn’t to say the key wasn’t important, as it prompts his trip in the first place, but it’s just one more way that the universe seems to be throwing unnecessary hurdles at him. In the same vein, Lion not only could’ve warped him to the destination as he mentions, but he could’ve done so without hacking up the key in the first place. But we’re long past the point where we should expect straight answers from Lion, so I forgive the big lug.

The first thing that came to my mind when Steven saw the dump wasn’t Amethyst’s room, although there are obvious similarities. It was Greg’s storage locker, the place where we first talked about Rose all the way back in Laser Light Cannon, the place where Greg expressed confusion about why a magic woman fell for a regular guy like him. And as frustrated as Steven is, this room is a wonderful unspoken answer to that distant question: among Rose’s many imperfections was that, like Greg, she was kind of a slob. It’s so nice to have a mundane flaw after nearly a full season of focusing on her as a liar and murderer, especially a flaw that reminds us of why she and Greg were so great for each other.

But yeah, Steven isn’t interested in subtext, and his tantrum is both realistic and reasonable. He finds the tape for Nora by accident, right after kicking some garbage in anger, and this is where that Speak Like a Child oomph comes in. It’s crystal clear that the tape was a backup in case Steven was a girl, but he’s so primed for lies and complications that the obvious answer eludes him and he suspects the worst. I honestly can’t blame him. If you learned out of nowhere that your mom killed someone, who’s to say you don’t have secret siblings?

The contrast between harsh desert and soothing sunset is another treat for the eyes, readying is for a cooldown after two distressing acts. Greg’s excitement over seeing the old tape blinds him to Steven’s angst in a way that adds honest tension to the exchange, because he’s trying to give Steven a fun treat but has no idea how much anguish his son has been through to get to this point. To Greg, telling Steven the answers outright would be ruining the moment, but the wait is already killing the kid. In an episode without an external villain it’s such a clever way to present a final “confrontation” to overcome.

When we finally see the tape, it becomes even more apparent that it was a backup for a hypothetical daughter. Still, I love how the strange new version of a video we know and love is only half-seen, as we focus so much on Steven’s reaction at the expense of footage. Where he was once gazing at the marvels of a new glimpse of his mother, his eyes are now furrowed in frustrated concentration. As in Lion 3, he has a viewing partner, and Greg’s welling tears mirror those of Steven and Sadie from the first tape, highlighting that the Steven of the present isn’t feeling an ounce of tenderness.

Tears do come for Steven, but in the form of anxious release. When he’s told that he’s Nora, meaning he’s the person the tape was intended for, Steven still doesn’t get it and exclaims that he’s his mom and his sister; it’s sort of a joke, but boy is it rough to hear him slip that in some way he does see himself as his mom rather than his own person. So thank goodness he’s saying this stuff to Greg, who’s calm at first but leaps to the occasion when Steven frantically asks why he exists.

As is standard by now, Greg's got fatherhood down cold. He adjusts his tone to show he’s taking Steven seriously, but rather than jump in he sits his son down and lets him talk. He addresses Steven’s concerns gently but firmly, leaving no room for doubt that he’s loved and appreciated no matter what. He brings himself into the conversation by saying he changed his name, doing so not to turn the topic to himself but to reassure Steven that it’s okay to not be stuck on one identity. And just look at how perfectly our three main characters exist in the shot during this last talk:

Steven gets those happy post-tape tears after viewing the last part of the video, and our happy ending is earned, but it’s not a full victory. Rose still had issues, but at least Steven has gained some confidence back that she wasn’t all bad. He’ll go back and forth on how much guilt he feels for her actions, but at the very least he knows now that his decisions to try and atone for her mistakes are his to make, and not a mandate from a dead parent looking for an escape route.

Whiiiiiiich means that now he’s able to try and feign a sense of control over helpless situations by assigning blame to himself in new, exciting ways. Hey, it’s not like the show could’ve solved all his problems less than halfway through Act III of the series. Lion 4 thus doesn’t have the conclusive oomph of Lion 3, which closed a trilogy of Lion Episodes as well as the stage of the show where Rose was a well-realized but distant idea more than a full character. For all its strengths, Lion 4 feels much more like Just Another Episode. But that’s okay. It doesn’t owe the past a thing.

Future Vision!

Again, those pyramids return in a major way, because they’re not pyramids.

Greg talks about Garnet’s inability to predict things about Steven, which is an element of their relationship throughout the show but gets major focus soon in Pool Hopping.

Escapism blends the two big Lion Runs by setting it back on the ocean, but making the passenger an exhausted Steven facing one last ordeal before relief in the form of his dad with a guitar.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

It doesn’t make the top twenty, it does make the top twenty-five. Just like Bismuth right before our hundredth episode, this doesn’t mean much now, but it will next time, because I’m expanding again to a Top Twenty-Five when we hit the big One Two Five with Doug Out. 

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

When It Rains

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

(Kind of unbelievable to me that a Lion Sequel doesn’t have official promo art, but luckily we have discount-supervillain’s measured take on what Nora Universe would realistically look like.)

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter 17: Proxy

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 17/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Sixteen+

Chapter Eighteen+ >>

Miranda had been crouching on the tree branch so long that all of her limbs were stiff. It was a comfortably warm day; the trees were budding, the grass had returned, and the nesting birds spoke to the true arrival of spring. She had been tracking a pair of bohemian waxwings for hours, her sharp eyes following the bright yellow tail feathers through the forest, and patiently waiting for them to settle down for an afternoon rest. That hoped for afternoon rest was quickly becoming an evening one, and she did not like the idea of having to use lumos to continue her practice. In her experience, magic tended to startle most animals.

She was about to call it a day, when the birds finally nestled themselves cozily against one another. Miranda felt a bit sorry to disturb them, but she only had another month to perfect her bird-catching technique before the first trial. She and Catalina had been tasked with capturing a pair of Birds of Paradise during the spring migration at the Danube Delta. To make the job more difficult, the birds had to be taken alive.

A quarter of an hour passed in silence while Miranda watched the waxwings on their perch. There was an odd bird call or two, but nothing to disturb her marks. Finally, she flicked her wrist, sending a net over the birds and pulling it tight. The waxwings gave a startled cry and flapped their wings in protest, but they were caught fast. Miranda made her way quickly through the branches to scoop up the net, cooing quietly before drawing her wand.

“Somnus,” she cast, and the captured birds instantly fell fast asleep. Satisfied, Miranda climbed nimbly down the tree and dropped lightly to the ground.

“{Nicely done, Doamnă Rose,}” Vasile Ursu commented.

Miranda’s body automatically tensed at the intruder, but she let herself relax when she recognized his perpetually sad-looking face and bushy eyebrows. She set the captured birds on the ground and carefully removed the net.

“{Thank you, Domnul Ursu,}” she replied, wondering why he had decided to travel to Transylvania. When she had released the birds, she waved her wand over them. They sprang back awake and flapped away, as though their adventure with the strange human had not happened. Miranda watched them until they disappeared into the trees, but she kept Vasile in the corner of her eye as she asked, “{What brings you this far from home?}”

His smile did not quite reach his eyes. “{The pleasant company.}”

After the extremely tense meeting between Doamnă Lupul and the champions, Miranda had not seen the Dragneas or any of their friends. Some of this was certainly due to Miranda’s decision to leave Săpânța as soon as Doamnă Lupul had dismissed her, but she knew that Catalina had been training at the Dragon Sanctuary, just as Miranda was, and their paths had not yet crossed there. Learning to ride a dragon was proving more grueling than Miranda had expected it to be, and so she had decided to keep her silly ‘search’ for Sirius Black as close to the Sanctuary as possible until she got the hang of it. Fortunately, Charlie was an expert at healing burns and broken bones, and she had until the summer to figure it out.

“{Would you care for a cup of coffee, then?}” she asked politely.

“{That would be very good of you,}” Vasile replied, falling into step next to her. For such a large man he was light on his feet and happy to match whatever pace she set. Between Doamnă Lupul, Domnul Dragnea, and Domnul Ursu, Ursu worried her the least. She could tell that he was more powerful than she was, but she could also tell that his nature was a gentle one, and he would not strike unless provoked.

They reached a flower strewn clearing and, at the snap of Miranda’s fingers, a round, purple and silver tent appeared. She was irritated that she would have to move camp so soon after finding this secluded spot, but she was curious enough to know what Ursu had to say that she supposed it was worth the trouble. She led the way up the stairs of the wooden platform and pulled open the carved door, stepping back politely so that Ursu might enter first. He smiled approvingly at the cozy interior, so unlike the No-Maj camping that Miranda had done with her father and brothers as a child. A small, wood burning stove sat on a spiral of bricks in the center of the tent, its smokestack snaking up through the skylight above it. With a flick of Miranda’s wand, a pair of chairs and a little table sprang out of the canvas floor in front of the stove. Another flick started the fire and Vasile took up residence in one of the chairs while Miranda went to the cabinet across from the stove for a kettle of water and the coffee pot.

“{How are the Dragneas these days?}” she asked, waving her wand over the kettle to set the water boiling and digging the coffee and sugar out of the cabinet.

“{They are well,}” Vasile answered evenly. The latest edition of The Quibbler was on the little table and, when he tapped it with his finger, the type rearranged itself into Romanian. He picked it up and began perusing the screaming headline and the picture of the sheepish, scarred boy on the front cover. “{Although they are still angry, if that is what you are asking.}”

The coffee beans were grinding themselves into a fine powder as Miranda pulled the kaymak out of the ice box. She spooned the grounds and the sugar into the pot, poured the water over it, and then started carefully skimming the top off of the kaymak and adding it to a pair of blue and white cups.

“{You’ll have to tell me if I’ve got it right yet,}” she said. “{I am sorry about Doamnă Catalina. I liked her very much.}”

“{She is young. They way she goes now may not be the way she always goes.}”

Miranda leaned against the cabinet and studied the set of Vasile’s broad shoulders. Although his voice was friendly, his body was tense. “{And are you also still angry?}”

“{I was never angry, Doamnă Rose. But I will thank you to keep that to yourself, and I will deny it if you tell anyone.}”

She gave the pot a stir, mentally replaying the conversations she’d had with Vasile in the past. “{I thought you and Domnul Dragnea were close friends.}”

Vasile was still reading The Quibbler, and he answered simply, “{That does not mean that I agree with every choice he makes.}”

The coffee seemed to have reached the proper color, so she poured it carefully into the mugs, trying to leave as much of the grounds in the pot as possible. The dark liquid turned a cheerful, milky brown and she brought the little cups to the table before settling herself in the chair next to Vasile. He put down the magazine and the two of them sipped in silence. Miranda found the hot, sweet drink especially welcome after the long day of bird tracking, and Vasile’s shoulders relaxed as he swallowed.

“{You’ve done well, for a foreigner,}” he said, “{but, next time put the grounds and the sugar in the pot before you boil it. Then it will be perfect.}”

“{Thank you. I will.}”

“{This Voldemort. He murders children?}”

“{He’s a madman. He murders whomever he likes.}”

Vasile took another sip of his coffee, and then sighed heavily. “{I should not stay long, Nicolae is expecting me this evening. But there are important things I have to tell you.}”

Miranda smiled wryly. “{Anything as important as the fact that I’ll die if I leave Romania for longer than three days for the duration of this contest?}” At the end of the meeting in February, Vasile had been kind enough to mention that little stipulation to Miranda. “{Thank you for informing me of that, by the way. It would have been a short competition otherwise. I didn’t realize that I was basically taking an Unbreakable Vow when I signed up for this business.}”

He chuckled. “{Yes, sometimes Doamnă Lupul forgets that the rest of us are not as experienced as she is. She expects everyone to know as much as she does. This is perhaps not as personally important to you, but it will help you just the same.}” Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a long braid of thick, white horse’s hair, and set it reverently on the table between them. “{Do you know what this is?}”

It took all of Miranda’s control to keep her mouth from dropping open. “{It’s unicorn hair. But where did you get so much?}”

He ignored her question. “{I will assume that you know what to do with it. And I will also assume that you understand that I did not give it to you.}”

“{Thank you. I might stand a chance at catching those birds now.}” She ran her fingers over the braid and it was cold to the touch. “{Are you sure?}”

“{Sure about what?}” A real smile wrinkled his face, and he finally seemed to be at ease. “{Be so good as to put that away, if you please.}”

“{Of course.}” Obediently, she gathered the precious hair into her arms and carried it to the scuffed steamer trunk that stood next to the one bookshelf in the tent. It popped open as she approached and she nestled the the gift carefully beneath her clothing before shutting the trunk tight. “{Is there anything else I should know?}”

Vasile’s smile became a grimace. “{It is probably too much to hope that you are an expert potions mistress in addition to being an adventuress.}”

“{That is true, I’m only passable,}” Miranda said honestly as she came back to her chair. “{May I ask why you want to know? I thought that I only had to gather the ingredients for the Iele’s Youth Potion. Won’t they brew it themselves?}”

“{It is not for the Iele, it is for the children. They have been between worlds for so long, that they will need something to help them transition back to this one. Without it, they may die of shock when they return.}”

“{Is this another part of the competition that Doamnă Lupul forgot to mention?}”

“{Something like that.}”

“{Does it have to be me? I may know just the man for the job.}”

“{If he is one of yours, that will do. When can you bring him to me?}”

Miranda frowned, considering how difficult it would be to convince Severus to take a jaunt to Romania. “{Can’t I just bring him the instructions? He’s very accomplished.}”

“{No, it is far too complicated. It will be better if I show him what he must do. Then he can brew it wherever he likes.}”

Well, she’d just have to try. “{Then I’ll bring him in a few weeks, say just before Easter. Will that be enough time?}”

“{Barely, but we will make the best of it.}” He finished his coffee and stood, his joints creaking and popping as he stretched. Miranda stood as well, and he surprised her by putting his hands on her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her on both cheeks. “{Bring him to my cave when you have him.}”

“{I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me.}” she said playfully.

“{Nicolae knows better than to watch my cave too closely.}” He winked at her and started for the door.

“{Domnul Ursu, may I ask why you came to me with this and not to Doamnă Catalina?}”

“{Who says that I haven’t gone to her as well?}”

“{Ah, I see.}”

“{No, you don’t. Not quite. The truth is that Catalina is desperate to prove herself and to win her father’s approval. If I give her the potion, her father will forbid her to share it.}”

“{And you think that I will?}”

He eyed her shrewdly. “{I know that you will.}”

*****

“And then they crashed right into the Whomping Willow!” Arthur Weasley finished through his laughter. “It was a miracle that they didn’t die, and another miracle that Molly didn’t kill them afterwards.”

“That sounds like the time my brother Finnian and I made off with the family truck,” Miranda laughed. “Only without the flying.”

“Did you crash it into a murderous tree, too?”

“Sort of. Neither of us were tall enough to drive it alone, so Fin sat on the floor and worked the pedals while I did the steering. It took us about five minutes to crash into the horse barn and Papa grounded us for six months. I’ve always thought that night had something to do with my becoming a bounty hunter. After facing my livid father, fugitives and monsters seem downright cuddly.”

“I never did anything of the sort when I was young,” Aaron said loftily. “I was perfectly behaved at all times.”

“Says the man who put and Exploding Scarab on my chair in the very first potions class we ever had together.”

“I just wanted to get your attention,” Aaron protested.

“Which you did in spades.”

The three of them were sitting together around Arthur’s desk in his private, if tiny, office, eating pimento cheese sandwiches and Molly Weasley’s lemon cake. Arthur had covered the top of his desk with a faded blue tablecloth, and Miranda had brought a bottle of palinka to share. The fiery plum brandy had given Arthur a coughing fit at the first sip, but Aaron took to it like a duck to water.

“How’s the dragon riding coming?” Aaron asked.

Miranda made a face. “I spend most of my time on the ground at the moment, convincing the dragons that I’m worthy to ride on them. Half the time they decided to scorch me for fun. And when I actually do mount up, I usually can’t keep my seat during take-off. It’s a good thing that Charlie’s around to fix me up afterwards. I’m glad that I have until June to figure it out.”

“You raise horses at home, yes?” Arthur asked.

“We do. Honestly, I’d rather ride a horse than a broom.”

“Do you use magic to help care for them?”

“That’s the funny thing—horses hate magic. Sometimes, if we’re in a big hurry, Fin’ll take the horses out and I’ll use magic to clean the stalls. But the horses can always tell and they’re usually off the next day if I do. So it’s mucking, feeding, and grooming by hand most of the time.”

“What a mess that must make!” Arthur’s face lit up at the idea.

“If you ever make it out to Edgewood, come stay with us and I’ll show you how.”

“Only if you teach me to ride one too.”

“Of course! You should come and bring the family. It’d be a hoot!”

“Speaking of hoots and your family,” Aaron put in, “could you please tell Conor to leave the physical wards the Aurors set alone?”

“I told you he was no good at being baby-sat,” Miranda replied. “He says he can’t sleep with strange wards around. But I thought you had Malfoy under control. He was perfectly polite today.”

“I’ve got him for the moment, but Rachel says Narcissa’s been excited lately because Lucius has something big in the works. Can’t be too careful.”

“I see. I’ll talk to Papa, but I can’t promise anything. If Mama bakes some cookies for the Aurors, will that help them keep their patience with Papa?”

“Couldn’t hurt to try.”

“I’m constantly amazed at what good baking can accomplish,” Arthur observed.

“And how.” Aaron finished his palinka and poured another round, topping off Arthur’s mostly full glass despite the man’s mild protest. “Arthur, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“I hope it doesn’t involve anything too dangerous. Molly thinks I’m in deep enough as it is.”

“No, not dangerous. It’s about the baby.”

“Is everything all right?” Miranda asked sharply.

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” Aaron replied, waving his hand to shush Miranda’s clucking. “It’s about the baptism. My brother, Jeremiah, is going to be godfather, but he insists there’s no way he can make it to the actual ceremony. We’re going to have it as soon after the birth as possible, and Rachel and I were wondering if you’d mind being proxy godfather.”

“A stand in? I think I can do that,” Arthur grinned. “It would be an honor.”

“It’ll be a quiet to do, but we’d love it if Molly came too.”

“Only if you’ll let her fuss over your lovely wife.”

“It’s a deal. To Arthur and the baby,” Aaron toasted. The three clinked glasses and sipped, and Arthur managed not to cough this time. Aaron gave Miranda a teasing grin and asked, “You think that fella of yours would want to come?”

Miranda snorted at the idea of Severus at a baptism. “I’m guessing no, but I’ll ask him, if only to see his eyebrow start twitching at the idea.” She did an impressive imitation of Severus’s irritated expression, the one that was just on the cusp of anger, and Aaron choked on his palinka.

“I don’t know this chap, do I?” Arthur asked. “I feel as though I’ve seen that expression before.”

“You do,” Miranda laughed. “He’s tortured all of your children for years in potions classes at Hogwarts.”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open when he realized who Miranda meant, and he threw back his head, laughing. “You…and Severus…no!”

“You’re the second person who’s laughed out loud at the thought,” Miranda commented good-naturedly.

Arthur choked his laughter into a cough, turning red in the face. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. It’s just that you are so cheerful and he is so…not.”

“What can I say? He won me over with his sunny disposition. But don’t be sorry, I know we make an odd pair.”

A bright red cuckoo bird popped out of the clock on the wall, chirping the hour. Arthur gave the thing a frown, but said reluctantly, “I’m afraid I have to get back to work, I’ve a pile of leads to research before my afternoon meetings. But I will have the pleasure of seeing you in a month, I hope.”

“You can count on it,” Miranda said.

“Wonderful, I look forward to it.”

There was a bustle of wand flicking, dirty dishes cleaning themselves and stacking neatly, and the tablecloth rolling up and flying back to its place on top of the filing cabinet. Arthur shook hands with Aaron and gave Miranda warm hug.

“Good luck, Miranda,” he said. “Give my love to Charlie.”

“I will,” she promised, but her smile had fallen away. “Arthur, I hate to be a bother, but I should probably ask you not to tell anyone about Severus and I. Security, you know?”

A kind, thoughtful expression replaced the mirth on Arthur’s face. “Of course, I understand. It wouldn’t be safe for either of you if it were common knowledge. That must be difficult.”

She shrugged. “It is what it is. Thank you for understanding.”

*****

“Do you have time to come by and see Rachel now, or are you going straight over to Hogwarts?” Aaron asked when he and Miranda reached the street.

“I’d love to,” Miranda agreed. “Severus has to teach one of those private lessons that he hates tonight, so I have some time to kill.”

“How are those going?”

“I don’t ask, but I gather that they’re going very badly.” She rolled her eyes. “Between you and me, I don’t think that teaching is the best career for him. If we’d had a teacher like him at Ilvermorny, we’d have blown up his office in protest and been expelled.”

Aaron laughed. “We still could, if you think it would help.”

“I’ll let you know.”

*****

“Reparo,” Severus hissed through clenched teeth. The shattered jars flew back together and floated silently to their places on the shelves. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done to salvage their contents, and he berated himself for the waste as he vanished the mess before it could spread any further across his office floor. The fit had done nothing to calm his anger either, although it had perhaps prevented him from murdering Potter.

How dare he? How dare that brat poke his arrogant head into the Pensieve? Severus had clearly ordered the boy to leave his office so that he could clean up yet another Gryffindor produced mess. Graham Montague had almost killed himself escaping from the no-man’s-land inside the vanishing cabinet. It did seem that the Slytherin would make a full recovery, but for Severus then to return to his office and find Potter relishing one of the worst moments of his life? It was the final straw. He didn’t care what Albus said—he would never teach Potter private lessons again and, as soon as possible, the boy would be out of potions classes forever. At this moment, Severus didn’t care if the Dark Lord did take over Potter’s mind. In fact, if the Dark Lord were to summon Severus right now and demand that he hand over Potter immediately, Severus would be hard pressed to resist the temptation to fulfill the order, promises be damned.

Mess cleared away, he stormed out of his office. The thought of being disturbed by either a student or a staff member was more than he could bear. He needed to be alone. He dodged one of the Weasley twins’ infernal fireworks and mused that what he really wanted was to leave Hogwarts and never see it again. At least it was Wednesday and he would not have to look at Potter’s arrogant face again until after the Easter Holidays. Except in the Great Hall of course; Merlin, why was this his life?

Murder was still on his mind as he jerked open the door to his quarters, relieved to be somewhere private. Baring a total disaster, no one would dare to bother him here. He stepped into the sitting room, closed the door, and stopped short.

“Are the fireworks in my honor? Darling, you shouldn’t have,” Miranda said, smiling up at him. She was lounging in his chair, her legs draped over one of the arms, a book on her lap. “Rachel said to let you know that she’ll have some research to send your way in a week or two…”

Her voice trailed off and those grey eyes that always seemed to see more than he meant to show her studied him intently. Finally she asked lightly, “Bad day?”

“You have no idea,” he muttered. Merlin’s beard, he didn’t want to see anyone—not even her. Miranda with her slew of friends and her lovely family and her perfect life. How could she possibly understand? He ground his teeth together until he could feel a muscle in his jaw start twitching in an effort to stop himself from spewing forth the tirade that was building inside him. He wanted to explode at someone and she was sitting right here, patiently waiting for him to say something.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked calmly.

Curse her. Curse her and her concerned look, and her beautiful face, and her graceful body. Curse her for caring. Curse her for being kind when he only wanted to be cruel. Curse her for being here when he wanted to be alone.

“Just go away,” he growled, stalking past her to his desk. He sat down heavily, his back firmly to her, and started viciously marking a scroll. His hand moved evenly while his rage pounded inside him, and he was glad to vent his spleen on an essay so full of idiotic mistakes. After a moment, he heard Miranda put her book in her bag, slide off the chair, and head for the door. The silence was palpable, but he did nothing to break it, he simply kept writing and waiting for her to be gone. She paused at the door, set her bag on the ground, and soon her light step was crossing the room to him. Curse her, why wouldn’t she leave?

His already rigid shoulders tensed even more when she put her hands on them, and he stubbornly kept writing, attempting to ignore her touch.

“I thought I told you to leave,” he said acidly.

“You did,” she replied. “I’ll go in a minute.”

Her strong fingers went to work on his shoulders, expertly finding every knot of tension and coaxing it away. She went slowly, as though she had all the time in the world and nothing better to do with it than patiently draw the anger out of his body.

His quill slipped out of his fingers and he murmured, “You are insufferable.”

“I know.”

Gradually, his head drooped forward and he gave himself up to the sensation. She really had no business being so nice to him. Didn’t she realize how arrogant, petty, and cruel he was? But he was also selfish and, if she wanted to waste her time with him, who was he to complain about it?

He did not know how much time passed before she slowed her pace to a halt. She placed a kiss on the top of his head and went back to the door without saying another word. He heard her pick up her bag and turn the knob. In another moment, she would be gone and he would finally be alone. But, for some reason, that no longer seemed so important.

“Wait,” he ordered quietly. “I’m coming with you.”

*****

“I have to go back early tomorrow,” she reminded him over coffee and tea in the morning. They were sitting together in her cabin, reading the paper over breakfast. He was dressed except for his frock coat, and she was lounging in her dressing gown, her feet comfortably resting on his lap under the table.

“I remember,” he replied as he idly stroked her bare legs with one hand. “I’ll be finished with classes by mid-afternoon.”

“Are you coming back here, or do you want me to come to you?”

“At the moment, I wish to see as little of Hogwarts as possible.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to keep yourself in the dungeons all day?”

“It is best for Potter’s life expectancy that I do.”

“Then could you please let the house elves feed you lunch?”

“No.” He could feel his lips tug into a smile. It amused him how much it annoyed her when he skipped meals.

Predictably, she let out an irritated sigh. “Then you’ll be a ravenous beast when you get here.”

“Fortunately, you happen to be a bounty hunter. Dealing with ravenous beasts is your specialty.”

“I guess it is,” she said, sounding resigned. “And my brothers will never let me hear the end of it if they find out I’m on a case collecting ingredients for magical femme fatale beauty cream. Although, anymore, they’re only impressed when I take down vampires and werewolves on my own.”

He felt his mood darken and he fixed her with a sharp glare. “I thought we agreed that you were no longer hunting werewolves.”

She raised her hands in protest. “I’m not! At least, not until the tebo hide is ready to stitch into a tunic. Then I’ll be protected from pesky things like werewolf claws.”

“In that case, I suppose I should be grateful to have another six months of peace while it cures,” he said, going back to the paper.

“What are you going to do for the Easter Holidays?” she asked casually.

“The usual. Marking scrolls. Running hither and yon at Albus’s and the Dark Lord’s capricious whims.”

“Why don’t you come visit me?”

His eyes snapped up from the paper and the impish gleam in her eyes unnerved him. What was she up to now? “No. I couldn’t possibly.”

“Why not? I can meet you at the Merry Cemetery on Friday evening when you’re finished here. I get the feeling that a break from all this would do you good.”

Merlin, she was like a siren. “What if I were summoned?” he objected.

“You’d take my port-key to my cabin and be no later than if you had to walk outside of the wards at Hogwarts from your rooms in the dungeon.”

“I doubt that either the Dark Lord or Albus would be pleased with my leaving the country.” He set down the paper, gave her legs a final squeeze, and pushed them off of his lap before rising to collect his frock coat.

She picked up his half of the paper and asked matter-of-factly, “Why do they need to know?”

“It is strange, but each of them seems to think that he is my master.”

“Here and I thought you were an expert Occlumens.”

“I am,” he said testily as he swiftly did up the buttons of his coat.

“So, don’t tell them. And, if they ask, just lie.”

He scoffed at her audacity although the thought of defying both Albus and the Dark Lord was enticing at the moment. As he pondered this, he went back to the table and put his hands on her shoulders.

“You are a terrible influence,” he chided.

She leaned her head back in order to look up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. “Come on, you know you miss me. And it won’t do anyone much good if you murder Potter.”

Her breath tickled his throat when he bent down to kiss her, and her lips were as sweet and tempting as her ridiculous idea.

“You may, perhaps, have a point,” he allowed.

“About you missing me, or about the merits of you not killing Potter?”

“Have I mentioned how amusing it is to watch you fish for compliments?”

“And have I mentioned that women like to hear them once in a while?”

He dropped one more kiss on her forehead. “I should think it were obvious, but if you must have it in so many words then, yes, I miss you.”

She went back to the paper, but not before he saw the blush that spread over her cheeks. For some strange reason he found it utterly charming that she was such a brazen woman, and yet she could still blush.

“Think about my invitation, will you?” she asked as he plucked his cloak off the hook by the door and pulled it on.

He cleared his throat in order to assume his sternest and most disapproving professor voice. “I will think about it. But I will probably say no.”

The note of laughter in her good-bye made him suspect that he had succeeded in sounding neither disapproving, nor stern.

She really was a terrible influence.

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

End Note:

Kaymak is something like clotted cream.

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

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Sixteen+

Chapter Eighteen+ >>

[a-merman-not-a-guppy]

CHINESE HOROSCOPES 2020! Fruits Basket Style

The Rat - “You're done. Put that down and get out.” - Yuki Sohma

Other Rats: Lymantria Khan, Mateo De Alva

Congrats. It is the year of the rat. The Rat horoscope 2020 predicts that you may be filled with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction even though things will go quite well.He is loyal and devoted to his friends and rather protective of them. He is not really romantic and often is really good friends with his lover. At times he can be mean, stubborn, and narrow-minded in his view but it is merely his way of being a perfectionist and his need to live by his own rules.

Don’t listen, then, to the insidious little voice that will incite you to see things in black. Look at your life with serenity: You’ll realize that, in fact, you’ve absolutely no serious reason to complain or even to worry. Celebrate the many good things you’ve been given.

The Ox - “A mystery...” - Hatsuharu Sohma

Other Oxen: Perry Flynn, Merida Dunbroch, Berlioz Bonfamille, Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines, Charlie Little, Alana Triton, Keaton “Buster” Palmerteri 

2020 will certainly be a lucky year for those born in the Year of the Ox. You’ll be relaxed and feel good about yourself, The Ox chinese horoscope 2020 predicts that in order to amplify the good celestial influences of the year and lessen the negative impacts, it will be in your best interests to take stock of your life and to hatch out new projects. and this beautiful balance will have happy repercussions on your love life.

Some of you might accidentally encounter some supernatural events that are beyond one’s imagination. Whether such meeting is a good omen or not is to be established in the near future. But certainly it brings a new chapter into one’s life. As long as one has an open mind and does not keep thinking of negative consequences, then the situation should be under control. If still in doubt, then one can choose to totally ignore it.

The Tiger - “When I’m...with Onee-chan...I feel warm inside...” - Kisa Sohma

Other Tigers: Kanga DeRosa, Thomas O’Malley, Calliope Harper, Olafur Önnuson, Gregory Eeyore, Marian May, Sindri Dyrsson

Tigers are set to reap the benefits of the Year of the Rat; career and education, in particular, will be the areas to focus on for the next few months. Be confident in your abilities. Use your talents for good; loyalty and intelligence will get you far. On the other hand, health and relationships will not have such a positive outlook. You will need to be sensitive to your well-being and others’ if you want to have a good year.

The Rabbit - “But...I think...I want to live with all my memories. Even if they're sad memories.” - Momiji Sohma

Other Rabbits: Kiara Lyons, Shannon “Shock” Adamson, Bambi Basurto, Sora Hamasaki/Roxas, Reed Fisch, Elyon Brown

The Rabbit horoscope 2020 predicts that in general, the outlook is positive. However, the year will be marked with some tense configurations. In order to preserve your serenity, it would be in your best interest to adopt a well-balanced lifestyle at the very start of the year.Be careful about your diet, and think of getting more fresh air; indeed, you’ll tend to live too much indoors, forgetting to walk or to maintain contact with nature. There’s a whole world out there for you to explore.

The Dragon -  “No I was simply too amazed by your stupidity to say anything.” - Hatori Sohma

Other Dragons: Imelda Rivera, Sun Park, Roscoe Sykes, Jake Long, Marie Bonfamille, Deb DamselBu, Oliver Twistes, Fflewddur Fflam

The Dragon horoscope 2020 predicts that this year, you will become more sure of yourself and assert your originality, especially in your career, where your qualities will be acknowledged by your superiors and colleagues. But you’ll also have the tendency to adopt overly radical positions at times; try to be more moderate.Beware: By refusing to make concessions, you’ll antagonize even those who only want to help you! Expect luck to smile upon you.

The Snake - “So send me your desire. In the service of my fellow students, I am prepared to receive!” - Ayame Sohma

Other Snakes: Kristoff Bjorgman, Violet Parr, Isabel Flores 

The Snake horoscope 2020 predicts that your personal evolution will be highlighted by the Stars this year. You’ll discover new things that interest you and you’ll better understand the direction of your destiny. Many of you will be attracted by all that is related to spirituality. Your natural generosity will express itself usefully in the service of others. Think about this if ever you have an important career choice to make.

The Horse - “And if when everything ends, nothing is left in my hands...that's alright.” - Rin Sohma

Other Horses: Willis Tibbs, Marzel of Coronado, Marisa of Coronado, Gaston Lacarriere, Ralph O’Reilly, Lucius “Lock” Adamson, Ashley Spinelli, Mei Qin, Dash Parr, Haley Long, Urchin Owens, Ashle Boulet, Ashleigh Quinlan, Ariel Triton

The horse horoscope 2020 predicts that the year may be marked with important surprises. Now, as a native of this Sign, you abhor the unforeseen. Nevertheless, it will be in your best interest to act quickly if changes come to disrupt your career schedule. Given the favorable astral configurations of the year, such modifications will play in your favor, on the condition that you take up the challenge. Don’t be doubtful of your abilities; you’ll find the necessary resources within yourself to make the most of changing conditions.

The Goat - "STUPID WOMAN! Always stealing our alone time." - Hiro Sohma

Other Goats: Terra, Nala, Terence, Attina, Ella, Simba, Meg, Finn, Roo, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Ashlee T, Nemo, Wilbur

The year of the Rat will be full of highs and lows for Goats. Having enjoyed a relatively stable previous year, they should expect 2020 to be more dramatic.Goats will have to work harder than usual to capitalize on great financial opportunities during the first half of the year. These resources should then be saved to prepare for the difficult years of the Ox, Tiger, and Rabbit.

In the second half, Goats may face some serious problems that can last a while. These obstacles will require strong persistence and commitment from them. However, they should see this as an opportunity to grow and bring out the best in them. As long as Goats remain optimistic throughout the year, everything should turn out fine.

The Monkey -  "I'm a complete failure. At everything I do, I'm absolutely worthless. I know this, and yet I continue to burden the human race with my presence. “ - Ritsu Sohma

Other Monkeys: Celia, Henry, Jake Rogers

The Monkey horoscope 2020 predicts that this year, you’ll have to make concerted efforts in order to get what you want. Important changes can take place at home or at work, so you need to be prepared. It would be ideal if you could remain confident when you actually feel like sweating. If you act rather than panic, you’ll find brilliant solutions and you’ll triumph over difficulties. Be convinced that life is made of renewals and that upheavals are useful because they allow you to make progress.

The Rooster - “I alone am free. I could go anywhere I please. I could love whomever I wish.” - Kureno Sohma

Other Roosters:  Marlin, Iseul, Adella, Belle, Artemis, Apollo, Jim, Sally, Georgette, Chase

The Rooster chinese horoscope 2020 predicts that this year, your focus will be on the sectors related to relations with others. Thus, it will be in your best interest to think of other people more. Whether in your work, love affairs or family life, don’t make any decisions without foreseeing its consequences on those around you. Good fortune will smile upon you if you put your family and friends first.

The Dog -  “Sometimes I think the whole world is conspiring to destroy my house.” - Shigure Sohma

Other Dogs: Reza, Hera, Minnie, Sarina, Melody, John, Elena

People born in the year of the Dog won’t have to complain about the stars in the year of the Rat 2020, for they will have good luck in most areas of their life. You will need to be patient and tenacious at work. If you’re wise enough to adapt yourself to new challenges that arise, you’ll strengthen your character and develop two key qualities — the art of negotiating and the ability to make sensible choices.

The Pig - “I will forgive him right after I kill him!” - Kagura Sohma

Other Pigs: Hercules, Dodger, Mitte, Jane, Wendy

2020 will be an extremely lucky year for all the people born in the year of the Pig.The pig has the last position among the twelve animals of the Chinese Zodiac. The Pig horoscope 2020 predicts that the astral climate will lighten. After a rather chaotic year, you’ll begin to feel better about yourself. However, there are still lessons to learn. First of all, show yourself to be extremely reasonable in all domains of your life. Next, vow to be more selfless. Finally, the more willing you are to modify your plans at the last minute, the better you’ll fare in all aspects of your life.