#interactions : frank & alice

[made-this-cause-why-not]

Harry and Neville being god brothers is a headcanon you'd have to pry from my cold dead hands. Wdym that Harry's godmother is uncertain and Harry and Neville aren't friends? No, Alice is one of Lily's closest friends (a big sister really) and the Godmother to her first born son. Those boys have been friends since their first tummy time together at Potter Manor (while James and Frank nodded off on the couch cause being a newborn dad is more tiresome than any quidditch match). Those two spent most of their childhood at each others side. By six years old they knew how to use the floo system just so they could over the others house. Lily and Alice can't count the amount of times that they woke up to see that their son wasn't in his own bed, only to find the boys took it upon themselves to have a sleepover. Even when they got sorted into different houses at hogwarts, they remained as close as always because that is their brother. When Neville tried out for quidditch, Harry cheered for him in the stands despite knowing that those same blundgers would soon be directed at him. Like, those two are on par with James and Sirius as far as I am concerned.

[papcrrings-arch]

Closed Starter : Frank & Alice ( @cquity​ )

Frank had been staying at a friend’s place while he tried to wrap his head around remembering his old life and, well, being sane. He also worried about what Alice remembered about Valentine’s Day. He had tried confessing his feelings while unaware and they had ended up at each other’s throats. However, he eventually had to go home and get his things and face Alice. He didn’t know how to act so was planning to see how she would react. He opened the door, locking it behind him, and seeing Alice there, “Hey...” he said quietly.

[cquity]

alice & frank

a wide smile spread across her rosy red lips as she glanced at her roommate. “now don’t you just look handsome.” she complimented the other, if her smile could grow any wider it would. “so what’s on your mind, what should we do first?” alice questioned, offering the other her hand. “i’m not sure if dancing first is the solution, or if we should eat the good food before it’s all taken.” 

@papcrrings​

[sunnami]

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders + lily x reader.

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society. 

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black. 

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun. 

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways. 

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun. 

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused. 

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.” 

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt. 

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?” 

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.” 

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—” 

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society. 

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly. 

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.” 

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?” 

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it. 

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!” 

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity. 

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give. 

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress. 

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry. 

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight. 

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat. 

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period. 

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then— 

“That’s Sirius.” 

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit. 

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.” 

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!” 

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.” 

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either. 

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.) 

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.” 

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.” 

You grimace. “Which cousin?” 

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.” 

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.” 

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.” 

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.” 

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.” 

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice. 

You nod. 

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.” 

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe. 

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.) 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.” 

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you. 

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.” 

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?” 

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.” 

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.” 

“Oh, Harry. . .” 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?” 

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath. 

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly. 

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?” 

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.” 

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?” 

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes. 

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.” 

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be. 

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”  

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.” 

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space. 

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered. 

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved. 

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease. 

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open. 

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.” 

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears. 

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!” 

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.” 

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.” 

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked. 

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?” 

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations. 

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?” 

Were you? 

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend! 

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize. 

Then, you find it. 

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face. 

It’s a space on that wall just for you. 

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.” 

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much. 

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.” 

That’s all you say before you run out of the door. 

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.) 

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe. 

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.” 

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.” 

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well. 

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.” 

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes. 

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.” 

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!” 

You don’t look back. 

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.” 

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair. 

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.” 

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you. 

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?” 

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks. 

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!” 

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.” 

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater. 

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra. 

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more. 

“Certain,” You respond, yawning. 

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones. 

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!” 

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out. 

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came. 

“I know,” You say defeatedly. 

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.” 

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.” 

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?” 

“I don’t know,” You say honestly. 

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora. 

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—” 

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well. 

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.) 

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.” 

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.” 

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home. 

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order. 

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips. 

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.” 

“I’m always right.” You pout. 

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.” 

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back. 

How lucky you are. 

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen. 

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly. 

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.” 

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!” 

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.” 

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.” 

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway. 

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.” 

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.” 

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will. 

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!” 

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.” 

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?” 

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.” 

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.” 

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.” 

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny���s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.” 

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?” 

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror. 

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.” 

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll. 

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.” 

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them. 

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.” 

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?” 

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.” 

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.” 

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness. 

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters. 

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement. 

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue. 

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead. 

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.” 

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?” 

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor. 

“No!” 

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice. 

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh. 

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?” 

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need. 

“Expulso!” 

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down. 

“Accio wand!” 

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense. 

“Peter?” You call out. 

“Crucio!” 

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt. 

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!” 

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.” 

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.” 

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat. 

“Defodio!” 

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground. 

That just leaves one more problem. 

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.” 

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.” 

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.” 

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.” 

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die,  s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.” 

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work. 

You just wanted to rest now. 

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words. 

“Avada Kedavra.” 

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms. 

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.” 

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely. 

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?” 

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?” 

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?” 

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.” 

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?” 

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors. 

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!” 

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.” 

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.) 

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus. 

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains. 

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.) 

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by. 

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for. 

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

[featherskies]

@lcnelylcves​ // frank & alice

Alice had been nervous. Her last gardener, her last supplier had completely abandoned her, and she had three weddings coming up, and she was supposed to be providing her client with a whole new box of flowers for her home. And she had... nothing. She had heard about another gardener, and really? She was desperate at this point, and she needed this. Not to mention, she was about to be a month behind on payment for her business AND her apartment. So, she sucked up her pride, and went to someone for help. She knocked on the door. “I’m sorry, I think I might be lost. I’m looking for...” Alice paused, her hands falling down to her side as her mouth dropped open slightly. “Frank...” She choked out, the flowers and her work long forgotten, as she remained in the doorway too afraid that if she approached she would wake up from some dream. “You never came back... you never came back to us.” 

[drarry-reccage]

Notes on a resurrection by newleaves (126k, M)

Tags: Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Bring back Black, Secret Relationships

The Potters stop arguing, for the moment. They look over, their expressions matched in steely irritation. Thankfully, for Draco’s nerves, they’re easy to distinguish besides this. Harry is full of storms, as usual, on his feet as he paces the rug not far from the door, shoulders up around his ears. His father is leaning artfully against the honey-brown Chesterfield sofa, one foot crossed over the other and hands in his pockets, all clean lines and angles. It’s not clear why they’ve been keeping each other company, but Draco supposes that Harry at least can’t resist throwing himself at a problem until it’s either solved or successfully killed him. “Masters and Mistress,” drawls Kreacher, living for this moment. Draco’s often thought that it’s a cruelty, the way that Harry and the others so frequently refuse to let Kreacher express himself. “Mr Potter. May Kreacher present Mr Malfoy…” The pause is exquisite. “And his guest.” This is Lupin’s cue to come out from behind the doorframe, and Draco gets the impression that he’s very nearly run off again. “Just me, I’m afraid,” he says with half a wave. There is the requisite pause as the room takes him in, but then it’s James Potter who reacts – or, more accurately, erupts. Collapsing away from the sofa, he lights up like nothing that Draco has ever seen, breaking into an ebullient laugh, storming movement and a bellow. “You fuzzy cunt, Moony – what?!”

My notes are under cut, containing what could be considered spoilers (though the big plot points I mention didn't come as a surprise to me while reading).

(rec by @dontthrowsticksatme)

Caveat here is that I'm only halfway through the fic as I write this. If the second half is horrible, I apologise, though I can't imagine it to be <3

I LOVE the characterisations in this fic. The way the marauders are portrayed are *chef's kiss*.

I especially love how Harry is juxtaposed with his posh, happy-go-lucky dad. Who, after finding out their old friends Frank and Alice Longbottom have been in St Mungo's all this time, suggests they should have a barbecue. For Neville. If the weather's nice.

Or with cute Lily and her thick accent, and the way her love for Harry sparkles off the screen immediately and in every way. Or little shit Teddy meeting his dad, and the way Draco only encourages him by setting up a prank the day the two meet.

Drarry is almost - but not entirely - secondary to all these family relationships, but their love is a very sweet one, sketched in moments woven throughout the story.

Draco's character comes through in subtle ways, throwaway lines, funny actions and mostly the way the other characters look at him, interact with him. He has the worst blind spots for how much people like him.

And you cannot help but love Harry through Draco's softly adoring eyes. I want to wrap him in my arms and hug tight. Actually, I want to wrap all of them in my arms and hug tight.

[maladaptivewriting]

marauders era characters and their favorite movies

if they lived in the muggle world circa 2024

remus: little miss sunshine brutal and disturbingly human, but intertwined with themes of love, family, support, and healing

james: talladega nights the theme of this movie is that friendship is magic. you know james was saying "if you're not first, you're last" for years after seeing this movie. also he tried to create a shake-and-bake thing with sirius

sirius: howl's moving castle "that howl is so fucking hot" "he literally just looks like you" "exactly" sirius sees himself as this main love interest (howl) and he sees remus as sophie, especially when she's an old woman that howl has to take care of. all he wants to do is take care of remus

peter: bridge to terabithia peter seems like the kind of person to find stories of tragical childhood friendships really compelling. he also loves josh hutcherson (who doesn't)

regulus: the secret life of walter mitty he relates to the main character - a man who is controlled and meticulous but longs to go on an adventure. he also wishes that sirius would pull him out of his monotonous life and into the unknowable but with complete acceptance of who he is.

lily: little women in the way that i feel like i've been shot every time i watch a movie involving complicated mother/daughter relationships, lily would be deeply compelled by stories about sisterhood. especially jo and amy who always feel second to each other

mary: princess mononoke she would relate to the main character and be very enthralled by ashitaka. definitely a comfort watch for her.

marlene: raising arizona or zoolander she loves absurdist comedies with lovable and endearing characters. she is also low-key attracted to nick cage when he was young, but don't tell anyone, it's a secret.

dorcas: arrival or parasite dorcas has unequivocally good movie tastes. she likes high concept stories with heavy thematic writing and devastating plots. she talks about them in detail for weeks afterward

pandora: midsommar and pan's labyrinth she loves movies with comically intense violence. she finds high control groups fascinating. she definitely loves pan's labyrinth because of the freaky monsters and the fact that it sounds like it could belong to her

xenophilius: the twilight saga he knows every detail and loves to examine the story from all sides. he and pandora bond over the fact that carlisle is a joseph smith archetype.

evan: deadpool evan sees deadpool as barty and loves the character because of it. he is also envious of the characters freedom to be himself

barty: the mummy he just thinks that everyone in this movie is really fucking hot

snape: pride and prejudice (2005) finds it super romantic and loves the way characters talk and deliver lines. he listens to the soundtrack as background music while he works.

frank longbottom: spiderman (no way home) no one was more excited than he was when the three spiderman characters interacted. he cried a lot when watching this movie

alice: narnia it was her sexual awakening ;)

narcissa: glass onion she loves a who-done-it story, she reads mystery novels all the time and she thought this one was the most exciting

bellatrix: barbarian or bones and all she watches bones and all like "when is it my turn to be happy?" and she watches barbarian like "what is it like to have a mother who loves you?" everyone thinks she's crazy

lucius: dune or the king he sees himself as the king. that scene where robert pattinson's character is slipping around in the mud and timmy's character is standing there unbothered - that's how lucius pictures himself and arthur weasley. he also thinks of his own family when he watches dune

also this came from a question that @wolfpadx asked in the discord and i just had to elaborate on my thoughts.

[theresthesnitch]

okay wont be very original. And maybe this is not even something you interact with much? But I just adore your style, and I'd love your take on this.

Remus raises Harry. Is he more level headed? do the 1st and 2nd books go on as they do? Do they catch the rat earlier? Remus's guilt. And wolfstar? what are your thoughts?

No, I love Remus raises Harry! This is great.

Truthfully, Remus is a reluctant parent. He never really quite believed he should have a kid. I mean, he's a monster, right? And no kid should have a monster for a parent.

The early days were, in particular, hard. Harry clung to Remus as the last person left that he really recognized. For days, Remus did nothing that didn't have a toddler attached to him. And, if you've never had a toddler cling to you while you showered, you don't understand how slippery they are. Which is *very*. There was so many times where the two of them just cried and screamed together, because sometimes grief leaves you with no other choice.

Remus was, however, immediately surrounded by a whole village to help him. He had to, and he gave up some of his privacy to make sure Harry had that. The Weasleys, the Longbottoms (because yes, we're saving them), Minerva and Poppy. Remus ran into Ted Tonks one day who brought him and Harry home like a lost puppy.

The first full moon was the hardest, of course. Not just because it was the first he had changed alone since he was fifteen, but also because grief translates to the wolf as well, and Remus carried both his grief and Harry's, who he had to peel off of himself, screaming, to hand to a waiting Alice. It took him an extra day to recover because of the way his body broke, but he allowed Harry into his bed the next morning to press soft, sticky kisses to his cheeks.

Remus kicked himself for not finding Wormtail sooner. The truth was that he didn't spend much time at the Weasley's house himself. He'd drop Harry and run because far too much of their life reminded him of Fab and Gid, who were dear friends before they died. But, at nust over a year, he agreed to go for the holidays. One of the Weasley boys kept complaining that his pet rat was acting really odd, and Remus offered to take a look, since he would freelance doing magical and magical adjacent creature care.

Peter was brought to him in a box, scratching at the sides like his life depended on it. Remus took one look inside and sealed it so tightly that Peter was in real danger of suffocating before the Aurors showed up. Sirius was freed by the new year.

It took some time for Sirius to adjust. 2.5 year old Harry didn't remember him at all, and his screaming dementor nightmares didn't help the matter. Harry slept in Remus’s room, silenced, and Sirius slept... well, most often either on the couch or curled up in front of Remus’s door. It took two weeks and several times tripping over him before early morning Remus remembered to look down before he stepped out.

The first moon with Sirius back was a challenge. Harry wouldn't go to him, so he still had to go stay with Alice and Frank. Remus had been locking himself in the basement, but Sirius couldn't step foot in it without feeling a dementor chill. Remus was unwilling to go out running again, not without massive Prongs to keep him from wandering into Muggle campsites. Padfoot curled up at the door to the cellar. For months, Padfoot whined st the door while Moony howled below.

It was slow progress.

They didn't try to make their relationship work. Both of them wanted it, but they couldn't forgive themselves for the mistakes they made. It wasn't until a few years later, when Harry would accept a bedtime story from either of his uncles, that Remus and Sirius found themselves joking about how much Harry was like Lily and James. Then they cried about it. Then they were snogging, and they didn't stop until they were both sweaty and apologing for taking so long.

It was still hard, but they made it work. And they were happy

[iwriteasfotini]

Our Love is Written in the Stars

......EVERYONE HAS A STORY......

*I am preparing for lots of links, so bear with the slow process of building this post to be more interactive. And I am still figuring out tumblr formatting.*

The Heir and The Spare - Year One, Sirius POV (25 Chapters, ~109k words) Rating: Mature Posting to Begin 10/31/24

THATS Quick Stats - Coming 10/28 THATS Synopsis - Coming 10/29 THATS Chapter headings - Coming 10/30 THATS Evergreen Content - Coming sometime after 11/23 THATS Playlist - Coming 11/23

The Prince's Pact - Year Two, Severus POV (25 Chapters, ~122K words) Rating: Mature Posting to Begin 12/21/24

The Bonds of Friendship - Year Three, James POV (28 Chapters, ~139k words) Rating: Mature Posting to Begin 2/14/25

What is this series?

**Special Note: I am a parent, I was a teacher, and I want to make sure my content is consumed by audiences of AN APPROPROATE AGE. If you are underage, please do not engage in the stories with Explicit ratings. I am working very hard to offer two versions of certain chapters to make sure this story is as accessible as possible.**

A canonesque Marauders era year by year series spanning 1971-1981 (maybe beyond).

A return to Hogwarts in the 1970's with modern attitudes about sexuality and gender because this is way more fun. Also I'm not getting into muggle racism or politics at all. The magical world has enough problems to tackle.

An exploration of morality and celebration of love.

A culturally expansive look at magical practices around the globe.

A creative delve into the six types of magic (inspired by POS wiki page and Evitative).

A testament to difficult choices in difficult circumstances.

A soul bond concept but not an AU.

A single POV for each installment. I refrain from chapter to chapter shifts.

Culturally diverse cast, plus all six main characters are at least bilingual.

Main Ships

Jegulus (platonic Jily and no Jeguily, if this proclamation stresses you out like it would me read this post.)

Wolfstar

Snily (turbulent, open relationship)

Side Ships

Rosekiller, Dorlene, Dumbledore/Grindelwald, Frank/Alice, Minerva/Poppy

I'm not sharing all the side ships due to spoilers.

Music

This series has two main theme songs, then each book has one/two theme songs. Plus sometimes I have a song attached to a chapter, which means each installment has its own playlist.

>>>Master Playlist<<< (Theme songs only - very short playlist)

>>>Epic Playlist<<< (Every single song in order, really really epic)

I will be sharing all of my playlists from Spotify, but due to spoilers, it won't be until each installment is fully published. Feel free to build your own playlists and please share them with me if you do!

Other things to know:

This story contains a large cast of queer characters who may or may not label themselves. There are also characters who identify as trans and nonbinary. Fair notice, my Regulus is not trans, though I know this is a common HC these days. But maybe with a little imagination you could still HC him as trans? And I'll say it until I'm blue in the face, I know this isn't realistic of the time period. Who cares!

Rating will span Mature to soft Explicit throughout the series with alternate chapters offered for a little more descriptive smut.

Posting will happen daily beginning on the scheduled day and continue at one chapter per day until each installment is complete. Then a few weeks of break between installments, for my sanity and to let people catch up.

Warning: People who have sensitivity to the following themes should approach this work with caution. It gets DARK. I will use trigger warnings by chapter and much of this does not begin until year five or later.

Underage drinking; underage recreational drug use; profanity; domestic abuse; blood; animal harm/death; self harm including attempting suicide; death; violence; grief; psychological abuse; torture; nonconsensual sex/sexual abuse; minor homophobia; sexual content; sexual themes

A final note:

If this sounds like an enticing series to you, please follow me or the tag (#Our Love is Written in the Stars) so you get updates when I start posting. I'm also going to share certain previews on Tumblr. This is a major passion project. I am writing for me 100% but I think some of you might also enjoy it, so I'm going to share.

Thanks for taking the time to read this introduction post. I hope to see you in the comments on AO3. Cheers!

**I do not agree with the original author's personal beliefs.**

**You can't find me on AO3 yet because this series is my first work of fanfiction. But my author name will be fotini.**

[atlasdoe]

Things that The Marauders fandom say that pisses me off

warning: i will not be holding back. if you are sensitive do not read. feel free to disagree or anything in the replies but don't be a dick

i'm only doing this cause i'm bored and have a lot of rage in me

also just to be clear if we're mutuals then i'm not on about you :)

"It's so sad that one of the only things we have in cannon is the prank"

or something along those lines. If knowing that the prank is cannon makes you upset then I have some great news for you. Nobody cared about the prank in cannon!!!! it's literally just another Tuesday for the Marauders and not once does anybody lose any friends or hold any grudges about it!! yay, now you can sleep at night!

"Dumbledore raised an army of children twice"

I've already spoken about this before but for anyone who wasn't here please know that this is a lie! Neither time did Dumbledore raise an army of children. You had to be an adult to join The Order and although the Marauders were young they were not children. As for everyone else, their ages are not confirmed. We are the ones who made Marlene and Dorcas the same age as them. For all we know The Marauder's could've been the youngest in the Order by far. As for the DA, Dumbledore literally had no part in that. It was Hermione, Harry and Ron who made the DA. All Dumbledore did was take the blame for it because they named themselves after him

"Dumbledore could've helped Regulus, Evan and Barty"

Firstly it amazes me how these three are the only Death Eaters yall have any sympathy for. I understand Regulus to a point considering we only really hear good things about him from Kreacher but with Evan and Barty genuinely what makes them so special?? Evan is in the exact same pool as Wilkes and y'all don't give a shit about them. Also Barty helped resurrect Voldemort and tortured Frank and Alice. Either way regardless on if you like them or not trust me when i say that if they would've gone to Dumbledore for help he would've helped them. When have we ever seen Dumbledore turn somebody down because they were a Slytherin. This man literally tried to help Draco as he was about to kill him and help the Death Eaters take over Hogwarts. Dumbledore doesn't know everything and he's never passed on the chance for a new spy.

"This fandom is misogynistic for making Lily/Tonks bad mothers/surrogates"

Fanfiction does not equal headcannons. Just because Lily or Tonks are bad mothers in a fanfiction does not mean that the author dislikes them or thinks that they're a bad person in cannon. Also reading about your favourite ship raise a child is a very common trope in fanfiction and as much as Harry and Teddy are Lily and Tonks children they are also James and Remus'. James and Remus are just as responsible for their children and I see nobody batting an eye when the roles are reversed. On top of all of this, Lily and Tonks were young mothers and it's very likely that they would make mistakes or in other universes not be as good as they were in cannon. That does not make them bad people nor does it make them unworthy of being liked. If you don't like it, don't read it cause i know that nobody is saying that Regulus and James raised Harry in cannon.

"Marlene/Dorcas/Mary/Evan is so underrated!"

No they're not. They're mentioned like once or twice. If anything they're incredibly overrated. Nothing wrong with that. Just facts

"Jily is dying out because people are scared to go against Jegulus"

Don't make me laugh. Jily is one of the only cannon ships we have they are literally the blueprint to the entire series. Jily is not dying out, you're just seeing more Jegulus posts because you keep interacting with them and fucking up your own algorithm in order to argue with people in comment sections

"[Insert ship here] need to stop hating on [Insert another ship here] (same with characters)"

I remember one time in the Riverdale fandom when a Bughead shipper did an interview with a magazine pretending to be Lili Reinheart and told this magazine that Bughead will be cannon just to piss the Barchie shippers off. Y'all would not survive "real" fandoms. Just because somebody doesn't like your ship does not make it hate and even if someone does say something like "Jily is trash and I hate it" so fucking what?? it's one person and trust me there is another room on the internet for the both of you. I don't even think I've seen anyone truly post hate about a ship since 2020 when i was in the instagram fandom and the Wolfstar and Blackinnon shippers had each other by the throat

"Jegulus came out of nowhere and I don't understand why people ship it"

Jegulus has been around for as long as i have (2018) and at least to me it's very obvious why people like it. It's the best friends brother, opposite sides of the war, secret relationship, forbidden romance tropes that people love. it's not that hard to understand. And as I said before we know just enough about Regulus to get some sense of what he was like but not all of the bad parts.

"Sirius was tall but Remus was TALL"

There's nothing necessarily wrong with this. I just hate it. Especially if you're commenting on somebody's post about how Sirius is canonically tall. Half the time, unless they say it themselves, they don't think that Remus is taller and don't care if you do

that's all i've got for now. i may do this again :)

[bittersweetarts]

Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 2)

Aemond Targaryen x You –  Chapter 1

Word count: 6608 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Explicit violence, misogynistic behaviour (borderline sexist), dubious consent, no smut

Spotify Playlist – AO3 Page

Chapter 2: Jealousy

It has been little over a month since your settlement at the Red Keep, and thankfully, you have seen little of the wayward Prince.

Aemond had been away at Driftmark, or at least that is what you think Helaena told you. To be frank, you really did not care. He was away somewhere, wherever that was, to quell some resistance (because unsurprisingly, not all are content with being oath breakers and/or serving cruel tyrants). In a way, you wish you had been brave and refused Queen Alicent’s request, as some others are refusing to pledge loyalty to the current monarchs, because you could not say that you were happy being at King’s Landing. You did feel almost at ease, but you could not help but dread whatever misfortune that is heading your way, and you had no doubt that something bad was going to happen to you. Worst of all, you knew that now, you do not have your family to protect you.

The capitol lacked the beauty and charm of your ancestral home, and you missed the wild sea, which you loved to frequent whenever you could. Contrastingly, the water at Blackwater Bay was rank, and the weather was perpetually humid. Your father’s parting words also permanently echo in your inner dialogue, especially before bed every night.

“Secure a marriage with anyone suitable as soon as possible and leave King’s Landing. There is little I can do for you now, my child.”

The remainder of the Summer Solstice Festival was uneventful, and oddly, you could not help but notice that no one would approach you at all during the final events. You opted to miss as many of the events as you could, feigning illness from the unaccustomed weather. To be fair though, you did feel sick at many of these events. Just a glimpse of the one-eyed Prince or his brothers made you feel violently ill, and you remained glued to your brother’s side, successfully deterring unwanted attention. Mostly, you kept your eyes down to your feet and remained silent. Often, you felt paranoid, as it constantly felt like you were being watched. That could not be true, could it?

Little known to you, you were garnered little physical attention during the remainder of the Festival, not because you were unnoticeable. On the contrary, after the Ball, you had become the main topic of conversation for many at the Keep. Though no one seemingly observed your interaction with the Prince on the balcony, you were seen being carried off unconscious on the arms of a Prince known for violence, and predictably, many gossiped about the events in closed quarters.

Though the Prince did not bother himself with idle tongues, he did come up with some meager excuse for his family for the event, which they accepted prima facie, because why would they not? It was none of their concern and they had many more pressing matters. Also, the Queen had become almost fond of you, well enough to turn a blind eye to any indiscretions that may or may not have occurred; and more likely, nothing had happened, because her darling Aemond would never commit any such depravity, for he has never been anything like Aegon.

Any potential suitors which your mother had entertained suddenly gone taciturn, and with your impending relocation, you chaperones chose to ignore the obvious and begin to dote on you, giving you more attention than ever had in your life. What everyone, except you, knew is that there was a silent figure behind the scenes which intimidated all noblemen at the Keep from even starting a conversation in public regarding you. Having no one to talk to, except your mother and Steffan, you felt isolated, which was not unusual, but you knew that this time, it was not you who decided these terms. You had even hoped that perhaps, an opportunity to interact with Queen Helaena would present itself. However, she was constantly busy, and you rarely got to talk to her.

Thankfully, the Festival ended quickly. At the blink of an eye, you were home at Storm’s End, packing your belongings and saying goodbye to your family. It was particularly difficult saying goodbye to your youngest siblings, who you helped raise, and they had barely reached the middle of their childhoods. They were so young and could not understand why you were leaving. You were not being wed, so why should you leave their family?

More painful however, were the despairing looks your elder siblings and parents gave you. No one uttered a word about your time at King’s Landing, for what could they say?

And so, you found yourself soon back at the capitol, alone now. The kind Queen Helaena however, tried so very hard to make you feel otherwise, and as did the lovely Queen Alicent.

Following your arduous journey, you were greeted by the female members of the Royal Family and settled into your new quarters, which though smaller, was significantly more lavish than your previous accommodations at the Keep. You also could not help but notice the stocked shelves near the wooden desk in your room, filled with countless titles which caught your eye. The title that immediately caught you eye was ‘Ruined Cities, Stolen Gods’ by a man named Vaggoro.

You were also introduced to Helaena’s children – Jaehaera, Jaehaerys and Maelor. Each was as lovely as their mother, and though they did not resemble your siblings, you could not help but feel affection towards them just the same. During the day, you found yourself spending time with Helaena and her children. Some afternoons you would be at the Gardens, playing hide and seek with the children, and on more warmer days, you would be at their chambers, sat on a daybed, reading to them about Targaryen history. Occasionally, Helaena’s brother-husband, Aegon would hastily greet you whilst visiting his children and sister-wife, but mostly, he ignored you.

It is common fact throughout Westeros that Aegon II has been different since his capture by his uncle, the now deceased Prince Daemon Targaryen. The stories about what had happened during his capture remains mystery, but what everyone accepts is that the King has become an empty shell of who he used to be. Whether that was so terrible, you could not say, as his childhood depravity was infamous throughout the Kingdom.

More often though, you would find Prince Daeron with the children and Helaena. As expected from a young Prince, he frequently skived training and history classes, spending time with the children. He would tell them lively stories of his adventures riding the she-dragon, Tessarion, and would often casually flirt with you. You did not mind it, and in a way, the young Prince reminded you of Steffon, who was similarly charismatic, frequently flirtatious, and rarely failed to lift the spirits of those he was around.

You also knew that Prince Daeron’s flirting was harmless. He was more than almost a decade younger than you, and you soon saw that he flirted not only with you and almost every lady at the Keep, but even with some boys, and rather shamelessly so. Not that it is any of your business.

And so, time gently glided by. Slowly, you started feeling at peace at King’s Landing. In a way perhaps, complacent, as you did not heed your father’s parting advice. You did not try to entertain suitors, and during the evenings (your only free time), you chose to confine yourself in your chambers, reading one of the many books in your new collection. You did not even have to bring yourself to visit the Keep’s Library, as you were satisfied with the options in your chambers. Also, you still felt uneasy about being out alone after dark, memories of the last time you had done so flooding in like a heavy current.

You found that your sweet tooth at the capitol was best satisfied by plum cakes, and you always stopped by the Royal Kitchens every morning to bashfully grab some for breakfast. You could not stomach properly eating in front of anyone except family, so you always broke your fast alone before joining the Royal Family for breakfast.

Slowly, your daily routine transpired. Although there were many other ladies-in-waiting, maids and servants at the Keep, you and Helaena’s family soon became absorbed in your own world, with its little routines. Part of your morning tasks included being the only person to set out breakfast for the Royal Family. This was so out of security precautions; Helaena did not trust anyone being left alone with you in a room filled with items that could be weaponized, and you did not mind being alone. The idle work helped keep your mind off anxious thoughts, and you let yourself get absorbed in the mundane tasks.

Perhaps that is why you did not realise that the wayward Prince was back. When you entered the dining room, expecting it to be empty, it was still dawn. The room was dim, lit by candlelight, and you had only started preparing the table. As you set down the cutlery, a clinking sound echoed throughout the room. Once done, you turned around to head back to the Kitchens, but froze at the sight of Prince Aemond, dressed casually in a billowy white blouse and black riding trousers. It had been a long while since you had seem him last.

The one-eyed Prince was leaning against the wall next to the exit, observing you with a smirk. You were dressed in a short-sleeved light blue gown, and the Prince found the contrast against your tan skin appealing, the vision intoxicating his judgment.

“Please, do not stop upon my accord.”

The Prince was in a good mood, you noted, which was unlike your first solitary encounter, and you preferred this attitude much more. Opting to maintain this mood, you forced a small smile and bowed, briskly heading towards the exit, whilst keeping your hands tightly together in front of you. You had almost managed to leave the room, but foreseeably, Prince Aemond stopped you, gently grabbing your left arm.

“What, no good morning? Am I still to receive your silent treatment?” He spoke lightheartedly with a smile. You bit your tongue, halting any haughty reply. You understood that this is simply a game for the Prince, and you decided that it was best to bore him.

“Good morning, my Prince. Welcome back,” you say in a monotonous voice, devoid of any affection.

You still keep your gaze down to your hands, which slightly irritated the Prince. As alluring you are in that position, the wayward Prince wanted you look back at him, with your memorably defiant stare.

“ ‘My Prince’ – I like that,” Aemond spoke lowly, lifting your chin to face him. “I can think of a few ways you can truly welcome me back,”

You knew that it was too early for anyone to stumble upon you, but the walls have eyes and ears here, and you knew that this would not bode well for you. The Prince, on the other hand, would be left unscathed, even if he were not royalty.

Ignoring his comment and trying to pull away, you looked back at the Prince, endeavouring to change the topic.

“I must finish setting the table before the rest of your family wake. May I request anything from the Kitchens for your breakfast?” Though you attempt to pull away, Prince Aemond still firmly holds your jaw, staring back at you with his violet eye. Ignoring your question, he responds.

“You are not as amusing so early the morning.”

“And you are not amusing to me generally,” you say defiantly, irritated with his attitude now.

Contrastingly, Aemond remained smiling, and opted to amuse himself since you were ceasing to do so. Dragging his fingers smoothly from your jaw, the Prince proceeded to trace your collarbones, which were exposed by your dress. The Prince could not help but notice how bare your chest was. You, on the other hand, had never have you regretted your choice of attire as much as you had then. But what were you to do? If you even raised your voice and someone intervened, you would be found by in a compromising position. Would it even help if you asked him to stop?

So, you chose to do nothing, letting your nerves get the better of you. You closed your eyes, hoping that by some miracle, you would be left alone, or for this moment to pass quickly.

Aemond continued to trace your collarbones, and then your chest, slowly. He was enjoying watching you squirm, and relished the moment. To say you felt helpless was an understatement. Without realising, tears escaped your eyes, which slid down your face and onto your chest.

“Has anyone told you how pretty you are when you cry?”

Opening your eyes, you see him staring at your mouth, which vexed you.

“No, but then again, most do not find arousal in the sorrow of others.”

Smiling, Aemond collected remnants of your tears with his forefinger, and tasted it, maintaining eye contact with you. Letting go of your arm, he ran his hand through your hair, softly, as he did before. Though it felt pleasant physically, the circumstances only fueled your indignation.

“I shall let you return to your duties, my lady. The children are to wake soon and will be hungry. If you think me a monster, you must yet have to see them famished.” Chuckling, he resigned to himself.

The moment he let you go, you fled, wiping your face with your sleeve, feeling slightly robbed of your dignity.

The morning quickly drifted by. The wayward Prince was absent at breakfast, much to the dismay of Queen Alicent, who had dearly missed her son. You, however, could not even remotely share the same sentiment. It was here you found out that he had only arrived shortly before meeting you, and was now asleep in his chambers.

The children bickered between themselves, Helaena ranted about her dreams, and the remaining Princes spoke amongst themselves. At one point, Prince Daeron complimented your dress, which would normally flatter you, but not today. At this point, you were ready to burn the dress.

It was an otherwise uneventful morning, and the afternoon similarly drifted by. The twins were off with Queen Helaena, having their portraits painted, and you found yourself alone entertaining young Prince Maelor.

He was a lovely, but mischievous child, and enjoyed causing harmless trouble throughout the Keep. By late afternoon, you found yourself carrying the young Prince to his chambers. After you finally caught the young boy sprinting away from a Ser Osgrey, who he had thrown mud at, exhaustion swept over him, and you decided to carry him off to his chambers and read to him before supper.

Setting the tired child down onto one edge of the emerald-toned day bed, you went off and picked up the thick brown book laying at the windowsill. The heavy book, filled with illustrations, depicted Targaryen history, and it was the unspoken responsibility of every member of the Royal Family to be well acquainted with it.

As you read aloud, Prince Maelor laid his head on your thighs and listened to you read until drifting off to sleep.

“… A modest feast followed the ceremony, and many toasts were drunk to the health of the boy king and his new queen. Afterward Jaehaerys and Alyssane retired to –”

“You have a lovely voice.”

You slightly jump, startled by the new voice. For a moment, you expect King Aegon, or even Prince Daeron, as they are the only ones aside from Queen Helaena who are permitted to enter the children’s chambers without permission. That is, apart from Prince Aemond, who now stood at the closed doorway of the room. You gently rocked the boy Prince, who began to tumble in his sleep due to your startled movement.

“Thank you, my Prince,” you softly respond, glancing at him momentarily before returning your attention to the book in your hands, although you have now stopped reading aloud.

There is a small gap on the daybed to your left, and you suddenly feel it dip. All of the sudden, you feel very warm and your cheeks flush, which the Prince immediately notices, and his lip quirks into a side smile.

“Though it flatters me, you do not have to lose your voice every time I enter the room, my lady.” The wayward Prince smoothly speaks into your ear. At this, your breath hitches. Flustered, you stare at the sleeping Prince.

“So, you are teaching our future Kings and Queen our history. Please do continue, I am sure my beloved nephew still can hear your lovely voice in his sleep. I certainly do.”

For a moment, you contemplate your potential courses of action. You could wake the boy Prince to move away, but that would not help you escape Prince Aemond, and may distress the child. You do not feel obligated to follow the one-eyed Prince’s ridiculous decree, but you also do not fancy hearing his indignant voice anymore, so you decide to read aloud anyways.

Taking in a breath, you glance down at the book again, and continue reading. At one point, you feel Prince Aemond lean his cheek against your shoulder and neck lightly, which momentarily paralyses you. But as you glance at him, you realise that he is simply staring at the book, trying to get a better view. Or at least, that is what you convince yourself, which in actuality, is untrue.

You had been reading for a long while now, and the sun is beginning to set. Though your mind drifts to wondering when the twins and Helaena would return, you knew that portrait painting was a lengthy affair, and that they would be busy probably until supper.

“… The year continued without further crisis or test as Jaehaerys and Alyssane settled in to rule. If certain members of the small council were taken aback when the Queen began to attend their meetings, they voiced their objections only to one another, and soon not even that, for the young Queen proved to be wise, well-read and clever.”

“Reminds me of someone I know,” Prince Aemond interrupted, leaning more onto you. You were now very close, and oddly, an unexplainable feeling coursed through you. Without meaning to, you looked at him, and saw a sincere expression in his face, which felt uncharacteristic. Though the comment was vague, Aemond did truly mean it, based on all of the probing he had done into your life since your arrival.

Aemond proceeded to physically detach himself from you. Facing you, he moved some of the wavy hair that had collected against your slightly damp neck, inching increasingly closer to your face.

You were about to respond, but the sleeping Prince decided to wake at that point. Feeling his stirring, you moved away from the one-eyed Prince, picking the small boy up and hugging him. You knew that Prince Aemond was closely observing you, but found yourself unphased by his stare now. In a way, you have become almost accustomed to his presence. You gently rocked the boy Prince, as he slowly woke.

“Uncle?” He voice spoke groggily first, before repeating in a more excited tone. “Uncle? You have returned!” Prince Maelor almost entirely jumped from you onto Price Aemond, which the latter embraced delightfully, picking the young boy up and spinning him around the room whilst greeting him.

If you were being honest, the sight of the long-haired blonde Prince spinning his nephew around as the warm sunset light drifted in through the window, was beautiful, and it became a memory you would truly cherish.

You had felt content for the following weeks to come. Your duties made time fly by, but as the weather slightly cooled, you started to feel better, and less overwhelmed by the foreign city.

The days passed as they always did, the only difference being the ever-needy presence of Prince Aemond. As a trusted confidant of the King, Prince Aemond was constantly busy, yet he always made time to be around Helaena and the children, and by extension, you. And this was an arrangement to the Prince’s liking, not that he was surprised, as his plans rarely go astray.

However, the cruel Prince did not anticipate one unwelcomed factor in his plan: Jayse Wylde, one of the eldest of the Jasper Wylde’s many children.

Jasper Wylde is the master of laws in his elder brother's small council, and for some odd reason, this made his heir, Jayse, feel immune to the callousness of the one-eyed Prince.

It was known throughout the Keep that you were off bounds, practically prohibited. It was clear as day that the Queens cherished your presence, trusting you with the children, and the attention Prince Aemond had bestowed upon you was unlike his public character, and many whispered behind closed doors that you were his paramour.

Unbeknownst to you, during one of the nights of the Festival, a nobleman from some northern house spoke crudely about your figure that evening, not realising that the one-eyed Prince was nearby, and to this day, no one knows where this minor nobleman is. Most speculate that he was fed to the she-dragon, Vaghar, and the Prince has not tried to dispel with these rumours in the slightest.

That is why the one-eyed Prince did not even anticipate that the cocksure Jayse Wylde, who doesn’t even reside in King’s Landing, would try to garner your attention, because surely his father would knock some sense into him, would he not?

Yet, Jayse still tried.

He first stumbled upon you on a holy day, as you left the Great Sept of Baelor alone, following morning congregation. You wore a blue dress with a black cape, and Jayse did not recognise you at first. He felt compelled to introduce himself. Though you were initially startled, Jayse was charismatic and traditionally attractive, with a tall build and dark hair. As he introduced himself, you felt at ease.

He was charming and confident, and seemed similarly pious. You discovered that he was visiting his father at King’s Landing, and was recently anointed as the new Lord of Rain House, located in the stormlands, fairly close to Storm’s End. Hearing this, a surge of longing struck you. Immediately, you practically begged him to tell you all about his life there, and soon found yourself spending the day strolling with him through the nicer parts of the capitol, pleasantly conversing. Though it could have been deemed improper for a maiden like yourself to be alone with a lord in public, he kept a respectful distance and you felt like you could trust him.

Though you are beautiful, Jayse was most attracted when you introduced yourself. The nobleman recognised your good name immediately and decided to pursue. Based on word of mouth, he knew that the Targaryens valued you immensely, but have only known you for a brief amount of time. You leaving the Red Keep should not be a difficult, given that you are a noblewoman after all, and all expect you to wed. Having you as a lady wife for himself, or even his any of his brothers, would serve immense political utility. Yes, you would be a very useful piece in this game of thrones, and your presence alone would be good protection for the House of Wylde.

And slowly, the young Wylde began courting you, not discretely, but not publicly either, which suited you well, as you did not crave unwanted attention.

He felt familiar and being with him was a promise of being closer to home and family, something you valued vastly. Conversations with him flowed easily, and he never overstepped or disrespected you. He made his intentions towards you clear, or so you believed, and you began imagining a life with him. You both came from large families, and whilst the prospect of birthing many children frightened you, the potential joy that could arise filled you with hope. As much as you loved your siblings, you felt like you lost much of your childhood raising them.

Motherhood had always seemed like a distant prospect for you, but having recently spent so much time caring for the twins and Maelor, the idea of having offspring of your own in your homeland was something you began praying for before bed.

Given your age, position, and that you lacked any guardians or wards, Jayse proceeded to court you rapidly and untraditionally. In the matter of days, you formally met his father during evening tea, and it was this meeting that alerted the one-eyed Prince.

Aemond Targaryen had become accustomed to your presence in his life, and he began looking forward to your meetings. While he found your looks and intellect attractive, he most coveted your physical presence, for it had a soothing quality. You also almost always knew when to speak and when to remain silent, and with you, the mood of the room was constantly cheerful.

Prior to your arrival, his mother was frequently anxious, and almost always in a foul mood, and his sister Helaena persistently avoided her children, leaving them to some nameless maids whilst sinking into a slow depression. With your arrival, life slowly returned back into the Targaryen family. You brought a constant stream of interesting conversation, and when silence was needed, you provided a comforting presence.

That is why your absence at just one family supper had alarmed Prince Aemond. As usual, he strolled in after everyone had begun dining, and had immediately notice a vacant seat directly across the table from him, where you normally sat. The room was duller than normal, the children bickering among themselves, and no one aside from his mother greeted him. As he sat, he could not help but notice his sister’s gloomy silence.

“Where is your Lady? I did not peg her as one who abandons her duties,” Aemond spoke in a chagrin tone.

As if snapped from a trance, Helaena glanced at her brother.

“Oh. She had kindly asked if she could miss supper today, and I did not have the heart to decline her request. She never asks for anything.”

His younger brother, Daeron, oblivious as ever, had been stuffing his face, and managed to speak before Aemond could, his mouth still full.

“Ah! I was wondering where your fair lady was. Did she say what her plans were?”

“To meet the master of the laws. One of his sons is visiting, and he wanted to introduce her before he left,” Helaena responded wistfully, pushing her plate away. The Queen Alicent was silently observed the conversation and felt dread wash over her. Aegon on the other hand, remained absently aloof, slowly eating his meal. As Helaena spoke, the children were taken out of the room by some trusted maids, sensing the rigid atmosphere.

Suddenly, Aemond’s blood began pulsing rapidly. His face would not betray his anger, if not for the flaring of his nostrils.

The Prince had been in a good mood prior to this, and to say that he felt angry was an understatement. Though he had been busy this past week, preoccupied with stragetising the quashing some stupid resistance, he truly did not anticipate that you would organise a marriage on your own so quickly. He now realises that this was never something you were incapable of.

He also did not anticipate that anyone would be foolish enough to go against him again, especially not so soon after the war.

You were quite nervous when you met the master of the laws, but Jayse continuously reassured you that you had nothing to worry about. He told you that you were intelligent, pretty and his father would be a fool to expect anything more.

What you avoided telling the young Wylde was that you worried not of bad impressions, but that his father would strike down your courting immediately, by virtue of your identity. You were not a fool, and you realised that your lack of suitors was not due to your plain appearance or your house’s lack of influence, but due to certain dragons behind the scene. This was exactly what your father discretely warned you about, you felt silly for failing to realise it for so long.

Though you felt comfortable at King’s Landing now, for how long would it last? You were not blind, and you knew that the wayward Prince had at least a remote interest in you. Even he was not in the picture, what of the possessiveness of the Queens? Though you previously fantasised living an independent life, being away from your home and family made you detest yourself for being so ungrateful and ignorant. The life of being a spinster maid now felt like an awful fate, as did becoming a mistress to Prince Aemond. It would not be possible for him to wed someone of such little affluence like yourself, not that it mattered as you knew that you were merely a temporary folly to him, and nothing more. You might as well have been a human attraction in a visiting spectacle to him.

Thankfully though, evening tea went well. The well-spoken Jasper Wylde, though incredibly misogynistic, never ceased to be polite and understanding, and conversation was as pleasant as it could be, though you definitely restrained your tongue many times. The elder Wylde asked about your father, as they knew each other. You proceeded to tell him about some of your father’s exploits, such as his recent trade deal with a Dornish merchant family. This arrangement had introduced the steady import of lavish textiles, a prospect which relieved you immensely, as it has brought in a much-needed income for the household, whose debts seemed ever growing. You also assured the patriarch that a letter has been sent to her parents, informing them of the serious courting currently occurring.

Though untraditional, Jasper accepted this. Like his son, he knew the value of having you in the family, and this process needed to be expediated as quick as possible, so as to avoid the repercussions from the Royal Family. Though Jasper is not one to take such risks, his favoured son had already started, and this was not something that could be easily returned from.

As the evening came to its decline, the council member excused himself, stating that he went to bed early. You felt satisfied with how the introduction went. As you said your goodbyes, Jayse offered to escort to your bedroom. Naturally, you accepted, and the two of you set off. As you walked, the two of you remained in comfortable silence, at least until you neared your chambers. The hall was empty, which was not abnormal as fewer noblewomen have been serving the Queens as of late, resulting in this area of the Keep’s solitude.

“Why don’t you leave with me?” Jayse’s deep voice through the hallway.

You halted, turning to look at him, wide-eyed. Though you have been an active participant, you did not have any expectations for how this courting process would proceed. You have never done anything like this, and truthfully, it still felt like a fantasy.

At the very least, your parents needed to know of this courting, and Jayse had yet to propose your engagement. However, the young Wylde would still be staying for another week, and perhaps, with at their current rate, the prospect is realistic. Surely the Queens would understand your departure. Queen Helaena’s earlier compassion came to memory, and you felt hopeful.

That is, only for a brief moment.

As you opened your mouth to respond, you were suddenly pushed aside, though not harshly. Whilst you did not fall, you felt your soul leave your body. Because in the blink of an eye, you saw a familiar long-haired blonde, pouncing on the young Wylde with no difficulty at all.

For a brief period of time, you were in disbelief of what was happening. You have read stories about violence and bloodshed daily since childhood, but this was the first time you truly witnessed it directly.

In front of you was Prince Aemond, savagely striking your suitor repeatedly, with no difficulty. Whether Jayse put up a fight, you could not say, because when you came to your senses, his face was bloody and unrecognisable. He was unconscious by the time you found your voice, and Aemond showed no indication of stopping. Though his back was facing you, the only sound in the empty hallways was his heavy breathing and a horrid cracking sound. It was this sound that snapped you into your senses.

“Aemond, please, please, stop this!” You yelled through your sobs. You did not even realise that you were crying. But the Prince did not stop, and you proceeded to repeat yourself, again and again. He would not stop however, and you did not know what to do.

You tried to wrap your arms around his waist, but instead, you were mistakenly knocked away. Aemond, blinded by his violent rage, did not even realise. But you were not one to be easily dismayed, and tried again, until you managed to wrap your arms around him. His movements were vicious, and you knew that you would be bruised, at the very least, as collateral damage. Yet you remained, hugging him tighter and begging him until he finally stopped.

You do not know when it was that he halted, but it felt like forever. As you held him tightly, he continued shaking, and you along with him. You were still sobbing, and whether the back of his shirt was damp from sweat or your tears, you could not say. But you remained that way, terrified that if you let him go, he would continue until he murdered Jayse. That is, if he survived this beating.

As the Prince’s breathing slowed, he placed his hands on yours, and unclasped you from himself, turning around to face you. You kept your eyes shut however, afraid to see the damage. You could feel the sleek wetness of the Prince’s hands, and you knew that it was Jayse’s blood, now coating your own hands.

With vehemence, Aemond grabbed hold of your jaw, and the rigid action and the coldness of his damp hands made you open your eyes in surprised. Your eyes were bloodshot, and you were still crying, but that only seemed to satisfy Aemond. Cruelly, the Prince spoke.

“Is not clear to you? How can someone so clever act so dim? What else must I do for you to understand?” Harshly pulling your face to his, Aemond continued, almost spitting his words. “Your place is here with us now. With me.”

Grabbing hold of your waist, the Prince pulled you closer, and you tried shaking your head in defiance, but failed, as Aemond tightened his grip. Moving aside, the Prince pulled on your chin, making face Jayse. The sight made you physically ill, and you immediately shut your eyes.

What you saw was no longer Jayse, but a remnant of who he physically was. Pulling you face back to his, the Prince continued, though you truly wish he had not.

“You do not belong to some fucking insolent lord of nowhere. You belong to me. What must I do for you to understand, to behave?” His words reminded you to those from the first night, and you start shaking even more profusely.

“Let it be clear without any doubt.” You suddenly felt his harsh grip on your face release, and suddenly, a soft hand caressed gently caressed your cheeks, and he changed his tone of speech into something soft, as if he were a lover whispering sweet words into your ear.

“Open your eyes, my lamb.” That stupid nickname only made you shut your eyes more tightly.

Suddenly, the Prince screamed: “Open your eyes, woman! Or perhaps I should finish what I started.”

With this threat, you opened your eyes and grasped hold of his waist again, incredibly tightly. You did this to hopefully stop him, but the Prince interpreted your actions differently. Smiling for the first time since seeing you, he hugged you, and proceeded to stroke your hair gently. The thought of Jayse’s blood in your hair made you feel even more ill, but you swallowed down anything that threatened to escape. The only thing that calmed you down was the fact that you could now hear laboured breathing coming from Jayse. He seems to be unconscious, but alive, and that is all that mattered to you at that point.

Though he still firmly held your waist, you let go of the Prince, and reached up to gently grab his face, cupping it. Aemond was surprised by this, not expecting you to calm down, but here you were, directing his attention and speaking in an even tone.

“I will do whatever you want, whatever it is that you ask for. I will not try to leave, you have my word.” Aemond truly felt like he was in heaven, hearing those words leave your mouth. Though you were sobbing no more, a tear escaped your eye. “But please, my Prince. I beg of you, please, help me bring him to the infirmary.”

Ignoring the last part of your request, Aemond stared at you with his dilated eye, and smiled sincerely, before responding.

“Anything?”

“Anything. I promise.”

The Prince proceed to bring his face to yours, nestling his nose near your left ear, while whispering.

“Tell me that you are mine.”

Swallowing your pride, you comply.

“I am yours.”

“Say it again.”

He reminded you of a child, in need of constant reassurance. You wished you could just slap him, but you were desperate, and you knew that Jayse’s life was in your hands now. You do the only thing you could think of. Tilting your head to your left, you lean forward and chastely press your lips against the Prince’s, hoping that this satisfies him. Pulling away, you feel your lips tingle, and realise that his lip was bloody. It was his own, the fresh copper taste stinging in your mouth. So Jayse did put up a fight. I’m glad.

Aemond remained silent, staring at you wide-eyed and now breathing rabidly. You feel at a loss, so you try again. This time, pressing your lips against his more harshly, you kiss him for a moment longer, before pulling away and cupping his face in your hands.

“Please, Aemond.”

Your voice was dripping with desperation, and the Prince could almost convince himself that you were begging for something else. It took significant will power to ground himself, and with a sigh, he untangled himself from you, and turned around, kneeling down to pick up the unconscious man.

“Your room is close. Leave. Have a bath. I have seen many dead men, he will be fine.”

You try to protest, adamant to go to the infirmary as well, to ensure that Jayse is treated, but the Prince quickly silences you with a harsh stare. He looked like he was about to drop the injured man, and the prospect terrified you.

In a low, warning tone, the Prince spoke.

“You promised.”

Feeling defeated, you turned and hastily leave. Before turning the corner, you glance back, and see the one-eyed Prince still watching you. All you could do now, was to trust him and hope he is being truthful. You turn, and head to your chambers, preparing yourself for a long, sleepless night.

I felt feral today and chose to neglect my responsibilities in order to draft this chapter. Hope you enjoyed! I make no promises about when the next chapter will be written, although it may be done before the season finale releases ;)

In case you also want to listen to the songs I had on repeat for the entire day today, here is my playlist for the fic! I have also posted this on AO3, incase you prefer that platform 

– Chapter 3

[papcrrings-arch]

Closed Starter : Frank & Alice ( @cquity​ ) - Song 18 Trouble by Iggy Azalea ft. Jennifer Hudson

“I shoulda known you were bad news,” Frank teased, nudging her playfully, “What am I gonna do with you, Fortescue? Always getting me into trouble.”

[cosmal]

DAISY — james dating a hufflepuff ‘cloud girl’ reader!! (congrats on 1k ily <3)

okay so james potter was one of the first boys you’ve ever dated

also he’s one of the only people that makes you feel okay about being quiet sometimes

when you first met, it was at a mutual friend's small party, and you’d ended up sitting up next to each other.

he’d noticed you were quiet so didn’t really push for you to say much, which was really calming for you. just to have someone with you who wasn’t trying to force you to interact.

but then he’s cracking the stupidest jokes ever

something like, “bird flu? i sure hope it does.”

and he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl

from then on, james was always trying his hardest to get you to laugh. he thought it was the prettiest sound he’d ever heard.

once you do get together, he never forced you to go to things with him.

you like going to his sports matches and things. always his number-one supporter!

but it takes you a moment to warm up to his friends.

especially sirius.

“just let me know if you want to go home, okay?”

“yeah, jamie.”

the whole night, he’s stuck to your side.

introduces you to everyone as his girl.

you beam.

eventually, you tell him to go have fun. go hang out with his friends. because you’ve actually made good friends with alice.

“okay, just tell me if sirius annoys you.”

“fuck off, i would never!” sirius shouts

because he really wouldn't. you find out he’s just as nice and before you know it, you’re friends with everyone.

though james is very good at telling when your social battery has run out.

he’ll let you lean into his side while he’s talking to remus or frank.

throw his arm over your shoulder and just talk over your head because he knows you’re just as content being by his side.

he sometimes thinks you’ve fallen asleep against his chest but you’re still fiddling with his hands in your lap.

he’d never force you to be there longer than you want to so he’s asking you for the better half of the night if you’re tired or if you just wanna go home.

at first, you just tell him a white lie.

“james, i’m okay. look, remus is waving at you, go!”

“okay, i’ll be back.”

by the third time he asks, you tell him that you do kinda wanna go to bed.

“okay, im tired, so we’re gonna go home.” he’d say to everyone.

when it’s just the two of you out, you’re always holding his hand.

you’ll be grocery shopping or something and he’ll go to grab something across the aisle, but as soon as he puts in the basket, he’ll grab your hand again where it’s flexing at your side before you have the chance to grab his.

holding his hand when out for dinner, waiting on food.

holding his hand during breakfast at the table.

holding his hand during sex.

holding his hand while sleeping.

one time you held his hand while he brushed his teeth.

though he’s still clingier than you

he’ll never admit it though.

[yourfavealbumisgender]

Welcome to Your Fave Album Is Gender

Requests are currently closed! For info on the progress of a request check here! Rules and info below the cut.

What are the rules?

Send requests through the ask box.

All genders and sexualities are allowed as long as there’s a flag I can use to overlay the album cover.

However, I will not accept requests for cis/straight albums (“____ by ____ is cisgender”) (This includes polyamorous by itself. I am happy to do polyamorous with a queer identity included.)

No more than two requests at a time please!

No more than two flags on an album please! (Not that I don't support using multiple labels, it's just hard for me to edit more than two flags!)

YOU HAVE TO TELL ME WHAT SEXUALITY/GENDER YOU WANT THE ALBUM TO BE OTHERWISE I CAN'T DO YOUR REQUEST!!!!

Please let me know if there's a specific flag you'd like me to use in your request (gay mlm flag vs rainbow, transfem/masc vs transgender, etc) Otherwise I'll use my best judgement to pick whichever fits best. (I use the Gilbert Baker flag as a default for the rainbow/gay flag, please let me know if you'd like a different version of the rainbow flag or the homosexual/mlm flag) (I will NOT use the original bigender flag with the white stripe in the middle on this blog. The creator is a transphobic abusive groomer.)

All albums or singles from any genre and language are allowed as long as they have official album art.

However, I have the right to not accept any request for whatever reason. The blacklist is below. If you send requests for the artists or albums on my blacklist, your request will be deleted.

Requests take awhile to upload depending on how many I have. I only post 2 per day. Please be patient.

Yes, you can use any of my edits as icons but please do not repost them without credit.

What artists will I not make edits for?

Alice Cooper All Time Low Avenged Sevenfold Brand New Cardi B Cherie Currie Chris Brown Cobra Starship Dance Gavin Dance Destroy Boys Disturbed Doja Cat Drake Falling In Reverse Harry Styles Hazbin Hotel/ Helluva Boss/ Vivziepop Heisei Project Jack Off Jill John Hinckley Kanye West Lana Del Rey Lostprophets Lovejoy Machine Gun Kelly Marilyn Manson Mayhem Melanie Martinez Midtown Mindless Self Indulgence Miracle Musical (Joe Hawley) Morningwood New Found Glory Palaye Royale Pusu/Zips R Kelly Slaughter to Prevail SWMRS TUYU Twenty One Pilots TX2 Wilbur Soot XXXTentacion

What albums will I not make edits for?

Anything by any of the artist above Dying is Your Latest Fashion - Escape The Fate album Escape The Fate - Escape The Fate EP There's No Sympathy for the Dead - Escape The Fate EP Joe's Garage - Frank Zappa album Girls/Girls/Boys - Panic! At The Disco single Death Of A Bachelor - Panic! At The Disco album Pray For The Wicked - Panic! At The Disco album Viva Las Vengeance - Panic! At The Disco album Live in Japan - The Runaways live album Queens of Noise - The Runaways album The Runaways - The Runaways album No Phun Intended - Tyler Joseph release

Note: These lists may be added to at any time.

Who is allowed to interact?

Anyone can interact as long as you are not one of the following:

TERF/SWERF/Radfem/Truscum/Transmed/“Gender critical”/Exclusionist

LGBTQA+ phobic/Racist/Nazi/Anti-Vax/Republican/All/Blue Lives Matter/Pro-Life/Misogynist/Zionist

Rape Apologist/MAP/NOMAP/Pedo

Who are you?

My name is Hades, my pronouns are they/them, I’m 24, and I'm gendervoid! My main is @sp1n​ I am a my chemical romance, j-pop, and vocaloid enjoyer!  I hope you enjoy this blog!

credit for dividers goes to theprideful

[mcpostinghours]

Finally a relationship chart! Alice gets along with just about everyone... Home just makes her uneasy sometimes.

She adores Sally and Barnaby. Sally for her culture and theatricality, Barnaby for his humor.

She has a crush on Wally which... may or may not be mutual? It's hard to tell with him.

Howdy is infatuated with her, but thinks he doesn't have a chance... He very much does she's just woefully oblivious.

Julie can be a bit much for Alice to keep up with, but Julie will "play" tea party with her and they'll have a good time. Frank often gets roped into this as well.

Alice feels bad that Eddie constantly has to run around, so she'll usually have some coffee for him when he comes around.

Poppy and Alice are both on the shy side so they don't interact too often, but they are usually the ones fretting the most over the rest of the neighborhood's shenanigans.

Oh I forgot! Template by: @rainbowwyrm