#instead I just see them being smug and gloating for years instead. & i don't want to see that

[sage-nebula]

“(far less likely) they’re hiding new accessories and using the older / familiar designs to keep it a surprise.” Thank you for giving me some hope. Also I’m in love with idea of them having sun and moon pendants, extremely fitting. I hope they do Alain justice as he deserves and don’t give in to some dedicated haters. Also hopefully after this, the butthurt ash greninja fans can relearn how to be nice to other people & not harass official artists in their posts just bcuz their fav lost 6 yrs ago

Thank you, but don't hold onto that hope too tightly, because I really don't think it's likely, haha. I really think the most likely answer is they just didn't want to bother designing new accessories and just used the old designs instead, but I would love to be wrong . . .

And thank you! I've had the headcanon about the pendants for years now. The specific designs are that Lizardon has a half-sun pendant with the Charizardite X, while Alan has a half-moon pendant with the Key Stone. The two would link together to create a full circle. They were given to Alan as a gift from Professor Sycamore in this fic (which was written before the Flare arc concluded and thus a lot of it was jossed), as a way of reclaiming the Key Stone and Charizardite, as well as serving as birthday gift for the missed birthdays. My friend @somegiantmess also drew the pendants once (drawing from a scene from another fic of mine) if you'd like to see them visually, too:

If only TPCi had contacted me, I 100% would have given them permission to use these pendant designs in the series, albeit with a few stipulations (e.g. give me a spot in the credits, don't treat Alan as a pawn to make Ash look stronger / make the shitty people in the fandom happy), but alas. 'Twas not meant to be. :(

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 24, Post #1 by @be11atrixthestrange

Title: I Love Wine Author/Artist: Be11atrixthestrange Pairing: Ron/Hermione Prompt: In Vino Veritas / Songfic (Difficult by Peppermint Ollie) Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): N/A

(Please note that one lyric has been changed - "Football" is now "Quaffle")

I Love Wine

You can talk to girls who aren't me. 

It's fine, no, I said it's fine. It's not like you're just mine

I'm not jealous,

wait...

Are you still mad at me?

When Hermione opens the hospital wing doors late one March evening, she pokes her head into the room to look before entering, scanning for anyone she doesn't want to see.

It's become a habit lately, especially knowing she might run into Ron. A true extrovert, Ron is never alone. It used to be Hermione always glued to his hip, but not anymore. Nowadays, it's Lavender, and Ron hasn't spoken to Hermione in months. Usually, her run-ins with Ron are accidental, but not this time. After nearly losing him to a bottle of mead, she'll do anything to get him back in her life.

As she had assumed, the Hospital Wing is empty save for Ron, who's sprawled out on a twin-sized bed. Madam Pomfrey has left for the night, and it's after visiting hours, so Lavender wouldn't be here anyway. In fact, Hermione shouldn't be, either, but school rules seem less important now.

She approaches Ron, noting that the hospital wing beds are too short for his lanky frame, and his pale, freckled feet dangle off the edge. The blankets don't reach that far, and goosebumps are forming on his skin. He must be cold. She almost reaches out to tug the blanket over his feet but stops herself. It's a loving gesture, but in the wrong way. It's definitely something Mrs. Weasley would do, and the last thing she wants to be associated with is his mother. Seeing him with another girl has made at least one thing crystal clear — her feelings for Ron are far from familial.

Hermione's gaze travels from Ron's feet to his head, cocked to the side, halfway on a pillow. His neck is bent, his mouth open, and each exhale brings a faint, raspy snore. His entire positioning looks so awkward. She tries to take comfort in the rise and fall of his chest, proof that he's alive, but even still, she can't seem to shake the fear that she's lost him forever.

What if she has? Just because he's alive doesn't mean he'll want her back in his life, not after the way she's treated him. He clearly doesn't need her; he has Lavender. Hermione's jaw tightens at the thought of her pretty, flirty, popular roommate, Ron's girlfriend. Four months of insisting that she's fine with their relationship, and no, she's not jealous have caught up to her. Her throat tightens, and her eyes sting, threatening to cry. Again.

Ron's breathing remains steady, his eyes locked shut, and it seems unlikely that he'll wake up. It was probably a stupid idea to come; he needs his rest. If she wakes him, he might be even angrier at her.

But fresh on her mind is the memory of his first moment of consciousness after being poisoned. The words that slipped from his mouth…

Er-my-nee.

He was dazed and confused, and hardly aware of what he was saying. But it had to mean something, right?

Hermione takes a seat in the chair next to his bed. She'll wait just a few moments to see if he wakes. It would be worth it to hear him say her name again.

She glances toward her bookbag, a bulging puddle of canvas on the floor. Wedged between her quill set and a stack of textbooks is a fresh bottle of wine, a gift from Dobby, plucked right from the kitchen. The bottle's nose pokes out of the top of her bag. Hermione distinctly remembers her anxious trip to the Hospital Wing as she tried to keep the bottle hidden under her arm, moving slowly and cautiously to prevent the liquid from sloshing around and alerting the authorities to her contraband. She could have lost her Prefects' badge if she had been caught with it. Even though it was offered to her by a Hogwarts employee, she should have denied it. Dobby isn't exactly keen on school rules. Or aware of them, for that matter.

And why would Ron want to drink wine when he was almost killed by a bottle of mead? She hadn't been thinking straight. She should just go back to the common room...

An abrupt snore pulls Hermione from her thoughts. It's followed by silence, and Hermione looks tentatively at Ron's face to see if he's woken up. His eyes are still closed, and his mouth agape, a glistening river of drool runs down his chin. She smiles— years ago, she would have thought it was gross, but now, she wouldn't hesitate to wipe it off with her thumb. Oh, how things change.

She should stop staring. How would he react to know someone was watching him sleep?

Unless he's used to it. The knot in her stomach coils further at the thought of Lavender and Ron. Has she ever watched him sleep? They're always kissing in the corridor, entangled on the common room sofa, tugging each other down the hallway in search of empty classrooms. She probably has.

Hermione reaches for the bottle of wine in her bag, if only for a label to read, something to get her mind off of Lavender sharing Ron's bed, giggling as he snores, wiping away a trail of saliva with her thumb, or even worse, her lips.

"Hermione?"

Ron's raspy voice pulls her back, and her cheeks sting with heat. It's not the drowsy, longing, 'Er-My-Nee' from before. This time his tone conveys confusion. Disapproval. He's probably wondering why she's here instead of Lavender.

She chances a smile at him, and her breath catches in her throat at the sight of his piercing blue eyes.

"Hi, Ron," she says, forcing a cheerful, optimistic tone. "I—I brought us some wine."

Ron's eyes narrow as he studies her. He's still mad at her, isn't he? He's going to tell her to leave and go get Lavender instead. She clutches the bottle tighter when it begins to slip through her sweating palms.

Then, unexpectedly, a grin breaks across Ron's face, and Hermione exhales the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"As long as it's not mead."

Let's stay in tonight. Just you and me and a bottle of wine

We can talk about our feelings; everything will be just fine

"I promise it's not mead!" she says, almost too eagerly.

"Good. Don't think I can ever drink mead again! Hand it here?" Ron reaches for the wine.

He's smiling, looking almost giddy to see her. It doesn't make sense. He's so relaxed, as though they haven't spent the last four months fighting. How?

Ron pops the cork with a nonverbal spell, and Hermione lifts an eyebrow at his wandwork. Has she ever complimented him on his charms ability? She makes a mental note to do so more often — considering that they become friends again, of course.

Ron brings the tip of the bottle to his mouth and takes a long swig. Hermione's cheeks redden at the sight, and she hopes he doesn't notice.

He swallows a mouthful of wine with a heavy gulp and hands the bottle back to Hermione.

"You don't mind sharing?"

"Why not? It's just spit."

She prickles at his response. The Ron she knew, pre-Lavender, wouldn't have had such a nonchalant attitude toward spit. Sharing a bit of saliva must be no big deal to him anymore. Great.

Hoping her blatant jealousy isn't written all over her face, Hermione takes a sip, disappointed by its bland, almost metallic taste. She was hoping she'd be able to taste him.

But the wine warms her right up. Hermione doesn't drink often, never, really, and she knows she'll feel the effects quickly. Maybe too quickly.

"So. We have a lot to talk about," says Ron, as soon as she finishes her sip.

Or maybe, not quickly enough.

She nods and looks down at her hands. He's looking down too — she doesn't have to watch him to know that his eyes aren't on her anymore.

A few moments pass in silence, and Hermione figures she'll have to speak up first. How much does she have to explain? How much should she reveal? It seems like the best possible time to share, to tell him everything she almost said over the last four months. Everything she should have said before. They're alone here, why not clear the air?

She takes a deep breath. "I asked you to Slughorn's party as my date, and you said yes."

Ron's scoff confirms what she feared — her statement came off as an accusation. She hadn't meant it that way.

"I know that now," he says.

"But you didn't before?"

"No," he says, reaching for the bottle. "You're pretty subtle. Until you're not." He flashes his forearms at her, still covered with scars from her canary attack.

Her eyes sting with tears again, and she's suddenly sick to her stomach. "I shouldn't have set those birds on you."

"True. You shouldn't have."

No 'sorry's' or 'I forgive you's', just facts, not feelings. It's how they've always communicated, and it's still infuriating.

With a deep breath, Hermione continues, "I was angry at you for kissing Lavender."

A feeling. Not a fact. Maybe he'll follow suit.

"Why?"

Is he really going to make her say it?

"Because I was jealous, Ron. And jealousy makes people do irrational things."

"Well, don't do it again."

Is he asking her not to set birds on him again? "I won't! If you don't—"

She snaps her mouth shut. She almost told him not to kiss Lavender again. She can't ask that of him.

"Don't what?"

"Nothing," she says hastily, burying her expression with another sip of wine.

She watches as a smug smile spreads across Ron's face. "You were going to ask me not to kiss Lavender again, weren't you?"

Hermione keeps her mouth shut and passes the bottle back to him.

"You know it's not fair to ask that."

"I didn't ask that," she says, her jaw stiff. "I stopped myself."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "So you're still jealous?"

"Ron, stop." He's just gloating now. "Let's not talk about Lavender. I just want to be friends again. I'm not asking for anything more."

"Don't you want to know why I kissed her?"

"No—"

"Because I was also jealous."

His answer hits her like a brick. He was jealous. Does that mean…?

"Why were you jealous?"

That's until we start throwing knives. It's amazing how time flies.

Hermione waits for Ron to answer, watching patiently as his cheeks turn crimson. His eyes flit between her and the bottle.

"I was jealous because Ginny said you snogged Krum."

He averts his gaze when he speaks.

"She did?" asks Hermione. "That was two years ago."

Ron shrugs. "Made me jealous."

"So that's why you kissed Lavender?"

Ron nods.

"Even though I had just asked you out on a date?"

"Hermione, I didn't know you meant it as a date! I assumed it was a pity invite."

"You should have talked to me!" she protests. "I was completely blindsided."

"I should have told you how I felt?"

"Yes!"

"Why? You didn't! You just hinted at it, then fucking attacked me with birds for misreading your nonexistent signals!"

Hermione was about to respond, but his retort snaps her mouth shut. He's right. It doesn't matter who started it, but she's the one who got violent. As she searches for a response, their argument pauses, and the air thickens with tension. She can feel Ron's eyes boring into her again, and she pointedly looks away. Why can't she just swallow her pride and say she's sorry?

It's not that easy.

"Maybe I'm better off with Lavender," he says, barely an audible whisper. "She treats me well."

Hermione's heart sinks into her stomach, and her eyes water again. She looks away, willing herself not to cry in front of Ron. She's pushing him away again, and she knows it. His implication cuts deep — he deserves someone who treats him well, and Hermione doesn't.

She can change that; he just has to trust her. But that's a lot to ask, isn't it?

"You're right. Maybe you are better off with her," she says, dejected.

'Cause you're more difficult than trying to fold a fitted sheet

And I'm more difficult than trying to throw a quaffle (at least for me)

You know without you I'd be lost

To her surprise, he grins again. "So that's what you want? For me to stay with Lavender."

Does he really need her to answer?

He hands her the wine, and she stares at it, wondering if another sip would benefit her. She's already feeling the effects.

Eh, why not? She takes another generous sip, enjoying its warm trail down her throat.

"It's a simple question, Hermione."

"Is that what you want?" she asks.

He narrows his eyes and smirks at her, a dangerous combination. With Ron, there's a fine line between anger and flirting, or at least, she thought there was. Before Lavender.

But, Lavender's not in the hospital wing drinking wine with Ron. Hermione is.

She bites her lip to keep from grinning.

"No. It's not." He blurts his answer as though the words have been trapped, waiting to escape. His ears turn pink at his admission, and he eyes the wine in accusation. With a shrug, he continues. "You know what I want."

She's buzzing from the wine — the muscles in her face soften, and her pent-up anxiety about the approaching topic seems to melt away. It feels like there's a clump of wriggling flobberworms in her stomach.

At least, she'd be more willing to play dumb if it saves her the heartache of being wrong. Why can't he just say it?

"I think we want the same thing," she says, summoning her Gryffindor courage, "but I want to hear you say it."

Ron lets out a groan. "Is every conversation we have going to be this difficult?"

Cause you're more difficult than peeling onions without crying

Or pulling on freshly washed skinny jeans

No, I'm not lying; I'd be lost without you

Despite his groan, his shoulders are relaxed, he's sporting a goofy grin, and his answer is clear and direct, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Thank Merlin, the wine is hitting him too. "I want you."

I want you. The words are like music to her ears.

"Still?" she asks. "Even after the birds?" If the roles were reversed, she'd definitely be holding a grudge.

"I don't understand it, but yeah. Still."

She reaches for the bottle — she'll need another dose of courage before continuing. Especially since his next question is easy to guess.

"So," he starts, suddenly sheepish, "do you want me too?"

Hermione sets the bottle down between them and tries to mimic his serious stare from before, but she can't stop from smiling. "Yes. Still."

Silence overtakes the space between them, and Hermione can almost taste the tension in the air. What next? Her daydreams never got this far.

"Then why are you still sitting there?" he asks, an eyebrow raised.

He inches to the side and motions to the space between them in clarification.

Oh, she understood.

His invitation is so tempting, and she almost gives in and crawls into the bed with him, but something stops her. Lavender. He's still someone else's boyfriend.

"Because you have a girlfriend."

"I'm not so sure I do anymore."

"What? Why?"

"Do you really need to ask why, Hermione?" At her confused expression, he continues, "or should I call you Er-My-Nee."

"Lavender heard about that?"

Ron nods, and Hermione knows she should feel sorry for her but… she doesn't. Not one bit.

"So?" he repeats, glancing down at the space beside him.

Hermione rises to her feet and crawls onto the bed, very aware that she's holding her breath. The bed is so small that she can't put a few inches of space between them, so she settles against his shoulder. He reaches for her hand, and their fingers intertwine.

"Is this okay?" asks Ron, caressing her hand with his fingers.

"Yes."

It's another moment she's imagined for years — holding Ron's hand. Not in a 'let me help you up' kind of way, but in a loving, flirtatious, non-platonic way. She's surprised by how easy it is; how comfortably she fits there.

Hermione rests her head on Ron's shoulder, and the bottle of wine in his other hand catches her eye. If only they had shared that bottle four months ago, things could be so different. She pushed him away, and he pushed right back. She could have lost him, yet somehow, he's still right here.

The hurt is still here too. She can tell by the way his breath is shallow and anxious, and the stiffness of his arm against hers that he won't kiss her tonight. Even holding hands is clunky, awkward, and almost too much, and definitely too soon. Yet somewhere in all its dysfunction, it's perfect.

You're for me and I'm for you, you know it's true

The best dysfunctional team that this world has ever seen

The bottle is nearly empty — they've kept drinking but stopped talking. She only notices the stark silence between them when she can hear her own breathing and grows self-conscious that he can hear it too.

She opens her mouth to speak just to fill the silence but freezes. Her lips are too loose from the alcohol, and she better not say anything. He doesn't need to know what's really on her mind. Three little words could push him away, and she just got him back.

It's definitely too soon for that truth.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she asks.

He lets go of her hand and wraps his free arm around her shoulders, encouraging her to lean more of her weight against him. "I love wine."

Hermione laughs. His tone is playful. Knowing. Her stomach flips when he gently squeezes her shoulder as he says 'wine'. If she were sober, she wouldn't dare read too much into those words. Tomorrow, she'll probably wake up and second guess this whole conversation, but right now?

"I love wine, too."

And I love you