#my family: WE HAVE TOO MANY UNREAD BOOKS!!! WE NEED TO FUCKING GO EASY GETTING EACH OTHER STUFF!!!!!!

[ojirocardigansniper]

picked up some books todaaaay :3

[bwbatta]

six - confessions

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst

Word count: 2960

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one, turn it upp! ...I won’t lie, i’ve been putting off writing this purely because I don’t want to stop writing this. Anyway, the final part is finally here and I’m so happy to be sharing it with you all! 

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5

Draco signed his name quickly and looked back at the letter he’d written. It was simple enough to get his point across, yet the repercussions from sending this could be huge. 

The blonde heir was adamant though. If this is what it took, then he would gladly accept whatever consequences came his way. He could figure it out, he always did. 

Taking a breath in to help stabilise his thoughts and nerves, he quickly put his quill down before he wrote anything else that wasn’t needed. Reading it through once more, he made sure his words were enough for now. 

Father,

I apologise for not responding sooner to your previous letter, I was at a loss for a while as to what to write.

I understand our family values and as much as I uphold them for our family’s benefit, my relationship or any of my relationships are my choice. Whilst she is not pureblood, she is not muggleborn either and both of her parents have magic, which is why I ask you to at the very least consider giving Y/N a chance.

With respect, I will not determine my relationship on your opinions, especially since you haven’t met her.

You understand there aren’t many things I would go against you on, but this is something I feel particularly strongly about. 

Regards, 

Draco

Nodding his head, he quickly folded the letter and attached it to his family’s owl. With a screech, the bird took off. 

All Draco could do now was wait.

“Please?! You’re the best person at charms that I know, you would be my favourite person on earth?!”

“Blaise-”

“Y/N please, Flitwick might push for me to be kicked out of Hogwarts if I don’t pass this test”

You snorted unattractively as you walked down the corridor, arms riddled with books. On your way to the Herbology greenhouses for your afternoon lesson, you were blitzed by Blaise who had been trying to convince you for the last five minutes to help him write his essay which was due in a couple days time. 

Blaise and you had nearly made it into the greenhouses when Professor Sprout stopped him at the door.

“You’re not in my class today Mr Zabini, I suggest you get heading towards your own class before you’re late.”

The elder witch gave him a stern look to which he smiled at, trying to lower her strict exterior. 

“I just need to talk to Y/N about something really important really quickly, Professor. It’ll only take a minute?”

“No” she rolled her eyes at the boy, “you can do that in your own time.”

“But, Professor-”

“No buts Zabini-”

“Alright Blaise, I’ll do it” you finally caved, seeing as the boy would most likely be reduced to ash from Sprout’s harsh stare otherwise. 

“Astronomy tower, 8pm?”

“Wait-”

“Okay bye!”

Without another word he turned and rushed off back inside the castle, heading to whatever his next lesson was, leaving you partially annoyed, partially awkward at the look Sprout was now sending you.

“Inside” she cocked her head towards the doorway and with a defeated look you headed into the greenhouse. 

You hadn’t been back to the Astronomy tower, despite classes, since that fight between Draco and you and you weren’t too keen on returning. Blaise however, had given you no choice in the matter as you probably wouldn’t see him until that time you’d agreed to meet. This meant you’d have to suck up your anxieties about the tower and get over yourself. 

If only it were that easy.

Your free period was rather quiet today you reckoned but you couldn’t put your finger on why it was so quiet? 

The twins weren’t around and neither were Harry and Ron, yet that was normal since you were studying in the library with Hermione. Though Hermione didn’t really talk much when you two studied, something still felt off.

Not to mention the other thing which was bothering you was how Blaise acted earlier? He was normally the most relaxed person you knew, but his earlier rushed and fretted actions also seemed wrong.

You snorted at the thought in your head; imagine if he was trying to set you back up with Draco at the astronomy tower later?!

Another sigh left your lips as you continued to try and figure out what else felt off. Hermione’s eyes darted from the essay she was writing to you sat opposite her. 

“Is there something bothering you?”

You met her stare awkwardly and shrugged slightly. 

“I don’t know, does something feel off to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too quiet, you know? I can’t put my finger on what it is though.”

“Maybe it’s because that blonde tumour isn't attached to your side anymore?!” Hermione snorted as she turned back to her work, leaving you staring at her with an unreadable expression. 

Ignoring the remark of how the witch had described Draco, she was right in the way that he did used to surprise you while you were studying. 

Was that it? You were missing him being near you?

You hadn’t really spoken to the Malfoy, only small comments in class when you were next to each other but apart from that, he wasn’t constantly next to you anymore and that bothered you. 

You had to admit you did like fake dating Draco, but that was over, it was a joke, a favour, nothing more. So why the hell would you accept anything to go back to him annoying you, him being at your side constantly, or his arm around you 90% of the time?

Then you froze.

You knew exactly why.

Holy shit, you loved him. Like actually loved him. 

Slowly starting to freak yourself out, you sat back in your chair as your mind whirred around that fact. 

He’s Draco. 

He’s one of your best friends and now everything was so messed up because he’s Draco.

Stubborn, bratty, arrogant Draco.

Who likes Draco?!

And then it hits you again. You do, you really really do. 

Because he’s Draco.

Because he cares about you and would do anything for you. Just like you’d do anything for him. He might be stubborn, but so are you. He might be bratty and spoilt because of his parents, but he actively spoils you just because he can. And he might be arrogant to everyone else, but you know how humble he could be and acts around you. His reaction after you opened your Christmas present proved that enough. 

Holy shit. 

These feelings are going to ruin whatever’s between you, friendship or not, because how the hell could you keep this to yourself? How the hell could you not tell him you loved him?

The only thing was... you were the second person to ask yourself that today. 

Draco paced in the tower, a letter held tightly in his hand as he waited for you to show up. Guaranteed it wasn't 8pm yet, but he was still so anxious for when you did actually turn up. Were you going to turn up?

A lot of things had flown through his mind today, some putting him on edge as to whether his plan to get you back would work, yet nothing had made him as anxious as when the letter arrived from his father earlier that day.

It was slightly wrinkled now from how much he had fiddled with it in his hands and with a frown, Draco tucked it back into his pocket, forcing himself to take a long breath as he did so and run his hands nervously through his hair.

Not even a moment passed before he heard the door below slam shut and your footsteps approach. A brief flash of panic flew through his body like he’d been electrocuted, what if this was a bad idea? What if you didn’t want him like he wanted you and he would just look like a complete idiot?

All the thoughts in his head however vanished as soon as you reached the top step and your eyes locked on his. 

Neither of you said anything at first and the silence was almost deafening.

“Fucking Blaise,” you rolled your eyes at yourself. “Earlier I bet myself he’d do something like this.”

“It was actually my idea”

“...I see” 

“Surprised?” 

You snorted

“No.” You hid your grin at the look of offence present on his face, “I knew one of you would come up with something like this. I had my money on Blaise as he was the one I spoke to earlier. Despite how much you love being mysterious and complicated Draco, you’re like an open book to me.”

The wizard let out a snort, he had a feeling she would figure something was up. They really did know each other well.

The silence stilted in the air again and felt heavy despite the fresh air surrounding them. 

You looked down, avoiding the blue eyes that watched you. Despite being in love with him, you had no idea what to actually say to him. Luckily he took the lead.

“It was really stupid.”

You frowned, before you forced yourself to glance towards him, eyes catching on how he was looking at you.

“What was?”

“The fact we thought we could pretend and fake an entire relationship with no consequences.”

You didn’t say anything. 

“I mean let’s be honest,” Draco scoffed a laugh, “we really thought that everything would go back to how it was before? That was stupid. Also the fact that the whole ‘having a fake girlfriend’ thing wasn’t really working for me.”

He paused to assess your reaction for a moment before continuing on. 

“We were great as a fake couple, sure. We were also great at being friends, I mean... that was before I kissed you and fell in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. A smile grew faintly on his face as he took in your reaction. After realising you weren’t going to bolt, he took a couple steps closer until he stood right before you, his toes almost touching your own. 

“This whole fake dating thing was so stupid in so many ways except for one; how it made me realise how much I genuinely want to be your boyfriend.”

Draco shrugged sightly like it was no big deal, but inside he had to remind his lungs to work.

Why hadn’t you said anything yet? Maybe because he can’t stop his mouth from talking? Should he stop talking? His mouth opened again before he could stop himself.

“I want you. I want us. But I want it for real, not some half-assed, pathetic excuse of relationship which is all just an act and makes us question where we stand with each other.” 

His voice lowered to a whisper but you heard him perfectly. 

“Draco... I want nothing more than to be with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but I can’t help the fact that I’m not a pureblood and your parents won’t accept me-”

“Wait, okay, hold on.”

Digging his hand into his pocket, he fished out the crumpled letter and attempted to flatten it out slightly. 

“I sent my father a letter in response the one you read the other day and I got this back earlier today. Just... just read it.”

He held the letter out at you with such a serious expression causing you to frown, you took it from him wondering what was in it. Opening the parchment, your eyes immediately flicked back to the blonde once more, only to find him watching your every movement.

“Draco,

I don’t believe you understand the seriousness of what you’re asking from your mother and I. You have a duty to this family to uphold and despite the notion that you wouldn’t disobey me with much, this is still a vital factor of those duties.

Nevertheless, you expressed your seriousness for this girl, coupled with your mother’s bickering about at least meeting her, I will give you one chance. We will meet her if she values the seriousness and significance of our values. If she does not however, then you will end whatever you have with her. 

You understand in the near future, things will change. You need to be as prepared as possible.

Regards,

Lucius Malfoy”

You read the letter once through, then twice, then once more. Your mind was in a flurry at the words, taking them in and the weight they held. Draco’s parents had agreed to give you a chance, however it came with a price and one you were in two minds about taking. 

On one hand, you could be with Draco and support him through whatever hell was coming your way, as long as you abided by their blood purity mania, which, if Harry was right, meant Voldemort. On the other hand, it meant not having the Malfoy boy in your life.

Your eyes finally left the words and flicked back up to meet Draco’s own. His expression was unreadable as he waited for your reaction.

“Well, that’s intense”

“You can’t really expect anything less from my father.”

“I gathered that.”

Your eyes landed on the elder Malfoy’s name once more and you bit your lip slightly. 

“I said once I would be willing to get mixed up in this for you, and I stand by it, Draco. I don’t know whatever's going to happen in the future but I know I want you by my side through it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that-“

“You’re not asking me, I’m telling you I want you and I’ll do whatever it takes to be at your side.”

“Y/N-”

“Draco, I love you, let me do this for you. I can play whoever your parents want me to be.”

Draco didn’t say anything more but stared at you with a half smile on his face. Your eyebrows knitted together as you caught sight of it, not really sure where the expression came from. Talking about faking your views on blood purity and Voldemort wasn’t really a cause for smiling.

“What?”

“Say it again?”

“Say what again?”

“You love me.”

You realised then. You’d told him you loved him in amidst all that but you hadn't even realised it. Well, that’s one way to admit it. 

“I love you,” you said with no hesitation as a smile grew on your own face. “I want you, for real. No fake relationship, just us.”

As quick as you’d finished speaking, Draco’s lips were on yours. It was chaotic, unscripted and messy, but it was real. 

Your hands slid to the back of his head, fingers burying themselves in his hair as his hands gripped your waist tightly, pressing you to him. He kissed you with such passion you swore your heart stopped for a split second.

How the hell had you both faked this for so long?!

Taking a break, he pulled away but rested his forehead on yours, not wanting too much distance. 

“If you’re all in Y/N, so am I. I’ll protect you with my life, you may’ve been my friend first, but you’re everything to me now.”

His lips pressed against yours again, much softer this time like he was trying to memorise and convince himself you were really there. That this was really happening.

“Draco Malfoy, I’m all in.”

You were surprised the next day for two reasons.

One; for how many people had actually bet on Draco’s and your relationship. George got his five galleons back from Fred again after the news reached them. He happily took the money from his brother before lifting his glass to you from across the hall in thanks. 

Both Crabbe and Goyle owed Blaise 10 galleons, though you supposed he had an unfair advantage, (not that you’d tell the duo). 

But the second thing which surprised you was the letter you received at lunch from the headmaster himself. 

Dumbledore had barely even looked in your direction, let alone spoken to you personally, so the note you got from him asking to meet him in his office later spiked your anxiety. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hermione shrugged before lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s probably something to do with the DA or Umbridge.”

“Hermione, I didn’t even think he knew I existed, now he’s asking me to come have a chat?”

“Just go, you’ll never know otherwise and you’ll keep fretting.”

The rest of your day passed quickly and you found yourself before the headmaster’s office later that evening. Taking another quick look at the note in your hand, scribbled at the bottom was a comment about him liking sherbet lemons which stuck out to you.

“Sherbet lemons?”

The gargoyle surprised you by jumping out the way, opening up the staircase to you. Without another thought, you climbed the stairs and knocked on the wooden door. 

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, Dumbledore turned to face you as you entered the room. With a smile, he greeted you and offered you the seat opposite him as he took his own.

Sitting, your knee started to bounce while your anxiety kicked in wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Y/N- can I call you Y/N? Relax, you’re not in any trouble at all, don’t worry.”

“Can I ask then, why am I here sir?”

“Well, I actually have a job for you if you’re interested? I understand you’re in a unique position where you’re willing to do anything possible to be with the young Mr Malfoy.”

You immediately frowned, how the hell did he know that?!

“What kind of job?”

“A job to join the Order of the Phoenix. I want you to act as a spy for me within Voldemort’s ranks.”

[im-just-a-peach]

In my dream I was out running errands with my SO and we were on our way back to the car when a poster of Hozier outside this entertainment center type place (they sold cd's, video games, movies etc.) catchs my eye and at the same time that I looked over a group of men where heading into the store all joking around with each other and laughing. One of the men was taller than the rest and had big brown poofy hair. I immediately crossed the street calling after my SO to follow. We walked in and I wasn't that certain that I even saw what I thought I saw. Then I saw a guy sitting alone in one of the listening boths by himself, it looked like Hozier but I could tell that it wasn't actually him. My SO suggested that since we were here and they had a place to get some drinks that we just hang around for a bit. So we got a table and he ordered us drinks. I was a bit sad and he was trying to comfort me when suddenly I see *him* across the room.

He was across the room with a group of guys getting settled in to play a video game. I got up immediately and walked over to him but as soon as I was in his presence a huge wave of doubt came over me. What am I doing, why am I here, he won't remember me, who do I think I am right now? My mind races and I am frozen in place just a few feet away from him. Suddenly he turns around and sees me. He smiles and I can feel my skin again, "Hey there, don’t I know you from somewhere?" he is trying his best to recall. He gets up and walks over to where I am still frozen in place. "Oh yes, you are the one who gave me that poetry book." (from a previous dream where I gave him a copy of my poetry book: available here) I can't believe he remembers but I smile and nod. "It's quite good. You should be proud of yourself." he says. I smile more and some strange sound of absolute joy escapes my body "He read my poems!" I shriek inside my head. I immediately turn crab red. "Oh damn, I am sorry I didn't bring it with me. I didn't think you'd be here." he apologizes.

"It's okay." I smile, having I finally found words again.

"Do you have a moment?" he asks me. I am awestruck, I look back at my SO. He has been watching this whole scene play out. He smiles at me and raises his drink to say 'Cheers and good luck, I will be right here when you are done.' I smile at him. I am so grateful he exists. I turn back to Hozier and nod.

He guides me away from his friends to a more quiet corner of this bar/entertainment center. I have so many thoughts running around my head but mostly I want to find space to tell him how I feel about him. "You are a brilliant poet." He tells me. I say thanks "You are a brilliant musician." I state the obvious.

He laughs and orders us each a Guinness. He looks to me for confirmation, the smile on my face is permanent and immovable. I am flying. There is no way this is real. I am having a Guinness in a pub with Hozier!!!!

We talk about art, philosophy, music, poetry, love, our families. He is brilliant and beautiful and so very warm and kind.

One of his guy friends comes over to our table and whispers something to Andrew.

"Oh shit, I forgot about that." he awkwardly laughs. "Can she come too?" He looks over at me. His friend looks at me smiles and nods to Andrew and then leaves.

"I have a fan engagement thing I need to do out front of the store. Will you join me?"

"Um... abso-fucking-lutely I will!" the beer has taken its effect on me. I cringe at what just came out of my mouth. But instead of scolding me or pulling a weird face, he laughs out loud. His laugh is amazing. It's powerful and warm and inviting. I join him as we make our way to the front of the store pub. There is a group of people all huddled together. Cheers erupt as soon as Hozier walks through the door. I find a small corner to insert myself and observe as he works the crowd, interacting with fans and signing autographs.

He is so kind to every one of his fans. They have traveled far and wide to come to his concert this evening. He expresses a sincere gratitude to each person. I am surprised at how he is able to remain sincere through it all. As I watch him I fall even more in love with this man. My head is still reeling but in this moment time stands still. I decide that I must tell him how I feel as soon as we break free from the crowd.

"Andrew are you almost done?" I whisper the quietest whisper into his ear. A small smile forms on his face as he is still signing autographs and exchanging thank yous. He nods in response to my question but never makes eye contact with me. I retreat back to my corner and patiently wait, worried that I may have broken the spell with my impatience.

After a moment, he gets up from the signing table, thanks everyone for coming and tell them he looks forward to seeing them later on this evening at the concert "How did I not know about this concert?" I wonder to myself.

He says his final goodbyes to the crowd, finds me with his eyes standing in my corner and comes over to me. He is so tall he towers over me and if it weren't for his disarming smile it would feel more like a loom. "Shall we?" he asks me looking to head back into the pub shop. "Abso-fucking-loutely. " I smile. He chuckles and we head back into the pub shop.

I am thinking and feeling so many things but I want most of all to tell him how I feel about him but since I am not quite ready and it would feel awkward after watching him interact with fans I ask "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Act so sincere with every single fan."

"Oh that's an easy one." He's surveying the room trying to find us another table to sit at. He finds some very large barstools that are currently unoccupied. He sizes me up and literally picks me up to sit me at one of the stools. I am shocked and a little bit amused. The nervous excitement of this whole event builds in me and I laugh out loud.

He joins in, not entirely certain of the why. Eventually we both come to a silence and he looks at me and says, "I can act sincere with every fan because it's not an act. I am genuinely grateful for every person that listens to my music. It's something special to be an artist, you understand that."

He gently puts his hand on my thigh. I blush but I am also almost about to cry. I do understand that. I know exactly what he is talking about. I look directly into his eyes and I know that now is my time. "Andrew." I am shocked to hear myself calling him this but he responds favorably. I continue. "I know we don't really know each other and all but there is something that I have wanted to tell you for quite some time." He is curious he leans in closer "I am in love with you. Everything about you, your music, your art, your face, your body, your mind. The way you view the world. The sincerity of your art. I have never in my life felt so strongly connected to someone that I never met... I honestly don't know what to do with all this emotion. I am not trying to date you. I understand that you don't feel the same way about me and I am okay with that but I just wanted to tell you that you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, heard or known in my entire life."

He looks up at me. His face is unreadable for a very long moment. He takes a sip of his drink. I am having a heart attack waiting for a response from him. Something anything, just show an emotion please, even if it's just get out of here and don't ever come back. He swallows. A smile starts to grow over his face. "Thank you, Elizabeth. I appreciate your kind words and your honesty. I would very much like us to be friends, if that's alright with you." I nod emphatically, all I have ever wanted was to be a room in his house. "I would like to give you something." his smile sharpens and his face glows with a plan I am not yet privy to.

He picks me up off the stool and sets me on the floor. I am actually grateful because I wasn't sure I would have been able to get off that stool. I am pretty sure it's illegal to have stools that high.

He takes my hand and leads me to a vendor's set up inside this pub store. "This is where I got my ring from ages ago."

He shows me the slightly bent ring on his right hand, the same one I have seen in photos. I look up to him still slightly confused. "I would like to buy you a ring. That way you will always remember me and we can always be close to each other, even when we are apart." I am shocked, Hozier wants to buy me a friendship ring? This is absurd. But he is sincere in his insistence and his boyish charm is disarming. We both look at rings together. I mention something stupid about how it can't be a wedding ring because I already have one of them. He looks at me a little confused but then pulls up a ring from the pile that is shaped like a letter L. "Here he says wrapping the ring around my finger. "L for Liz. This is the perfect ring." I look at it on my finger, it's gaudy and bulky and golden. This is not something I would ever choose for myself. But I can't stand to look in his eyes and tell him this. I am afraid it would break his heart if I did. "It's perfect." I respond.

He is so excited. He pays the shop keeper and we exchange phone numbers so we can call each other and talk. I thank him for the ring and I give him a small kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for spending time with me, Andrew." I feel a tear in my eye. "Of course! You are a brilliant woman. Thanks for sharing your art with me. I promise to bring it with me to my next show and share it with the audience." I blush and thank him again. We part ways. I head back to where my SO has been sitting this entire time. "Let's go home." I say. "I will tell you all about it on the way but I am tired now and I want to go home." I put my hands on either side of his face look him in his eyes for a long moment and kiss him deeply. We walk out of the pub store and I wake up, feeling lemon yellow and full of raspberries.

[in-tua-deep]

Inktober day four: Death

Prompt list by @totallyevan​, here ;3c

Honestly this one is more about mourning and the appropriateness of mourning someone if they’re still technically alive, and if death even matters at the end of the day if you undo it. Except you can’t undo the trauma that comes with it, and the coping methods to deal with that trauma

(Five buried his siblings. But there are no graves. Not anymore. Were there ever?)

It’s raining. Not hard, not yet, just a constant spattering of water gently hitting the ground. Blades of grass bend under the weight of the droplets, dancing gently under the constant onslaught.

Five sits cross-legged in his pajamas under the light of the moon, shivering in his wet clothes as his hands run up and down his arms in an attempt to get rid of the goosebumps that are raised prominently against his skin. 

He looks up, and the moonlight gleams against the metallic skin of the statue. Ben’s face stares back. Going back in time to fix things meant that the statue had remained intact the second time around, without the disastrous funeral taking place. Just one small thing on a list of things that had been fixed. 

“I stole one of those bendy rulers today.” Five whispers, his voice lost among the pitter patter around him. It’s okay though, because he’s not really talking to anyone in particular. “And some of those dumb little erasers in the shape of hamsters. And some glitter pens.”

Silence meets his confession. The moon shines and the statue is still a statue. 

Five frowns, “I don’t know - I have a box under my bed with all these stupid little trinkets. What am I supposed to do with them?”

The statue does not answer. 

“There’s no graves.” Five whispers, even softer than before. “There’s no graves, and no bodies to put into them. There’s no headstones, and no flowers, and no need for mourning. And I’m not - it’s just a stupid habit. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Five gazes up at the statue, the statue of the boy who never got to grow up. Ben doesn’t look young, when Klaus summons him. He looks like he’s twenty-nine. He matches the rest of the siblings. He matches.

Five doesn’t match. A boy out of time.

But the statue doesn’t, either. It’s so easy to forget how young Ben was when he died, looking at him as he is now. It’s less easy to forget looking at the statue of the sixteen-year-old with the mournful quote that left no doubt that the owner of the visage was dead. 

“You look more like my Ben.” Five tells the statue, shivering slightly as a chill goes down his spine. “He was so quiet. He never liked the kind of attention we got, never liked the work or the training or anything like that. He was quiet, and he was smart, and he liked erasers shaped like little animals. I called him dumb because he didn’t use them as erasers, he just liked having them.”

It’s raining. It’s raining, and no one can prove that the water on Five’s face isn’t because of that, and nothing else.

“When it was too loud,” Five traces absent shapes into the wet fabric of his pajama pants, “He used to come up to my room to read. He was quiet so I let him, and he always ended up sticking his feet under my legs. His circulation was kind of shit. He would double up socks in the winter. I always wanted to get him some of those fluffy socks, the ones with the grips on the bottoms of them, but Dad would’ve noticed so I didn’t.”

There’s no response to that, and Five sits in silence for a moment before unfolding his legs. He winces and massages at his knees with one hand. No matter how young he appears, there’s the phantom ache that he always gets when it rains, the one he’s had ever since he fucked up that knee twisting his leg in the rubble of the apocalypse.

But despite that, he hauls himself to his feet, swaying gently from side to side. His face is blank and unreadable as he approaches the statue. He stand very still in front of it for a minute before sticking a hand in his pocket and fishing something out.

Very carefully, Five arranges the little hamster erasers along the edge of the statue base. 

“I don’t know if he likes them anymore.” Five says, something almost wistful in his tone as he prods each eraser into the most perfect line he can get them in. “I don’t know if he ever got to wear the fluffy socks. I don’t know where he went to read in peace after I left. I don’t - ”

Five cuts himself off and sighs, looking at the ground in frustration. “They’re alive. There’s no graves for them - but there’s a grave for you. Sort of. Not for the Ben who’s here, but for the Ben who died I guess. My Ben. The one who liked animal erasers.”

He finishes prodding at the erasers and looks up to offer the statue a watery smile, hand coming up to press against the cool metal. 

“I miss you.” Five says. 

I miss them. Five doesn’t say. 

“I know it’s dumb to miss someone who isn’t gone.” Five says, pressing his hand harder against the statue, voice barely audible, “But I forget, sometimes. That I’m not going back to them. That there’s too much at stake, that I can’t risk fucking up the world just because I want to - because I want them to be the way I remember.”

“I want Luther to tell us dumb space facts, and for Allison to like butterfly clips and glitter pens. I want the Diego that cried when we knocked over that fish tank on the Fottren Office mission. I want the Klaus that didn’t look surprised whenever we pay any amount of attention to him. I want him to interrupt me and Ben’s hangouts by dramatically throwing himself on the floor. I want Vanya to ask me what I think of her compositions and to need my help with math homework.” Five lifts his hand away from the statue to scrub his sleeve over his nose. 

It’s just him wiping some rain off of his face, of course. 

“I miss them.” He tells the statue softly, looking down at the lineup of eraser hamsters. “I used to grab things that reminded me of them, back in - back in that place. I’d leave them at their graves. I know that they were grownups, but when they were covered up I didn’t think about it much. I just grabbed things I thought they’d like.”

He contemplates the erasers in silence for another minute, just standing there are letting the rain wash over him. 

“I never found your body. My Ben’s body. Any Ben’s body.” Five admits, taking a step back. He still doesn’t look at the statue’s face. “I still grabbed you things though, and left them with the others. I figured they’d make sure they got to where they belonged, same as Vanya’s. But I knew you were dead, because of the book.”

Vanya’s book. The only link Five had to his adult family. No matter how many times the others made comments about it, Five knew it for the lifeline it was. There was a good chance he would have died out there in the wastelands of the apocalypse, hopeless and beaten, if he hadn’t had such an important reminder of what he was fighting to get back to. 

The book hadn’t said when Allison grew out of butterfly clips, or when Luther stopped telling them random space facts, or how Diego got his scar, or when Klaus stopped sleeping with a nightlight. It didn’t say whether Ben had still liked animal erasers. In the end, the book hadn’t said much at all, but even something is a little bit more than nothing.

Vanya used to love princess stories, when they were small. Her and Allison would crowd around Grace and beg for one after another. It was one of the few times that Allison and Vanya were truly sisters, when Allison and Vanya spun around Allison’s room pretending they were royalty locked away in a castle waiting for a prince to come and save them.

Five remembers teasing them for it, remembers telling them that the stories weren’t real and that there weren’t any princes who would want them because they were stinky. Though, to be fair, Five had probably been around seven at the time. 

But when he’d found a princess story in Reginald’s vast libraries, even the real ones which weren’t so pretty or as much fairytales, he always slipped them into Vanya’s room. She’d run over to Allison’s and they’d lay on Allison’s bed, reading it together. 

They don’t do that anymore.

Five had felt lightfingered and stolen a princess book, leaving it in Vanya’s room because he used to put them on her grave but that wasn’t available anymore. She’d come down later and handed the book to Allison, and Five had reflexively smiled, but then Vanya had simply said, “Oh Allison - I think Claire might have left this in my room?” and then gone to bed. 

Vanya was twenty-nine. Princesses were a childish thing that she didn’t much care about anymore and hadn’t in years. 

There are a few princess books in the box under his bed, in the box where all the things go that he can’t take on grave visits anymore. The box is starting to get full. Five isn’t sure what to do about that. 

Some things he can leave around and no one minds or cares. He leaves glitter pens in draws that Klaus makes excited noises when he finds them. Diego thinks that the slinky is just an old toy that got shoved in a box, even though it isn’t. The space facts books are shelved in the library and, when found, attributed to Luther’s youth. 

But how can Five explain swiping the toys? The thrift store McDonalds toys that are reminiscent of the ones that Five fished out of the dumpster under his room as a child for every birthday. The sticker sheets full of stars and colors and childish wonder that Allison used to stick on every surface of her room. The action figures they’d all seen in shop windows after missions but had never had the courage to ask Reginald to buy. The pots of glitter nail varnish and clips with cat faces on them.

The animal erasers.

He knows what they would assume. That they would look at his youthful face and smooth skin and think him precious and adorable or some other thing that he sees red from just thinking about. But how would he explain that these things aren’t for him? That they are offerings and tributes to the siblings he left behind - the thirteen-year-olds just growing into their own skins, stuck between childhood and child soldier. That they’re mourning gifts for his dead siblings who are still alive. How does he explain that?

That they’re tiny reminders blooming from the rubble that he picked up and dusted off and held close to his heart so that he would never forget what he was fighting to get back to. Who he was fighting to get back to. That there’s no rubble anymore, but he sees something and his brain says Luther would like that or that reminds me of Diego or one of the million little things that has Five reaching out and pocketing an item with an absent intention of leaving it on a grave that does not exist, for children who did not die but who did grow up. 

He’s still standing there in the rain. He’s stopped shivering, which is probably an indication that he really needs to go inside. He feels cold down to his core, numb in a way that is almost satisfying. 

He trails a finger in front of the little lineup of erasers - close, but not quite touching. Something that almost feels like a smile pulls on lips numb with cold, and it’s small but genuine.

He goes inside. He peels out of his clothes and takes a warm bath at four in the morning until he feels a little more human again. He looks at the box under his bed, but does not open it.

He comes down later, when everyone is up and the kitchen is bustling with activity. When he looks into the courtyard, the erasers are gone from the statue.

No one mentions it.

[beanarie]

⭐star⭐⭐star⭐⭐star⭐⭐star⭐⭐star⭐ (or talk more about and/all of your Elementary WIPs/ideas bc I want every single drop I can get)

so i totally wrote about joan having breast cancer a couple years ago. here’s the bits i cobbled together, some of which also disappeared from my phone, which tells me i need to back my shit up more often!

~

The call comes while her stitches from her lumpectomy and lymph node removal are still in place and hurting like a mother and she's only too aware of Sherlock, his terror an acrid smell in her nose. She's told it's not what they hoped, but it's not hopeless, and she barely pauses at all before she looks at Sherlock, smiles, and says, "It's fine."

He's so grateful he takes her out for lunch. They go to a cafe with an outdoor area that he knows she's been eyeing for months.  She orders a giant salad with extra pecans and he wrinkles his nose before telling a story about Thomas Jefferson's penchant for giving pecans as gifts.

The call comes while her stitches from her lumpectomy and lymph node removal are still in place and hurting like a mother and she's only too aware of Sherlock, his terror an acrid smell in her nose. She's told it's not what they hoped, but it's not hopeless, and she barely pauses at all before she looks at Sherlock, smiles, and says, "It's fine."

He's so grateful he takes her out for lunch. They go to a cafe with an outdoor area that he knows she's been eyeing for months.  She orders a giant salad with extra pecans and he wrinkles his nose before telling a story about Thomas Jefferson's penchant for giving pecans as gifts.

[the truth comes out in a week or so!]

"We should talk about this."

He closes the file in his hand and tosses it on the stack. 

"I-I'm sorry I kept you in the dark. I needed to get the full results and figure out what to do next, without... I don't know. Background noise."

"It's not that serious. People with results like mine have a ninety-three percent chance of remaining cancer-free after treatment. Really, it's barely cancer." 

"I mean, yes. Several weeks of radiation, sprinkled with tests and maybe a PET scan or two. Still, not particularly life-derailing. I'm going to work. The only real change will be to my availability. And I won't be able to leave the city, except maybe on the weekends. Overall, we'll simply get more use out of face-time than we did before."

A series of short, shallow nods urges her to let the other shoe drop.

Joan adjusts her gaze to slightly beyond his left ear. "I've asked Lin to help me find a place to sublet for the next two months."

His only reaction is the barely perceptible droop of his shoulders.

"I'm not leaving you." The first time she meant to leave the brownstone, he abducted a contract killer, then tortured and stabbed him. The second time, he went back to London for almost a year with no notice beyond a short Dear Joan letter. She can't handle one of his signature extreme overreactions. "Sherlock, it's really important you absorb that, if nothing else."

"But you do plan on leaving."

"It's the least disruptive option for both of us. And it's only temporary."

[the next day, joan gets home and in the library there's a stack of books, dvds, and cd's on wellness-type things and other stuff, like a giant fluffy orange blanket on the couch. sherlock explains he did some research, orange is a calming color. also OK HE RESPECTS HER CHOICES but. she's not a disruption, she's family. also also moving is one of the most stress-inducing acts a person can put themselves through and it wouldn't be good for her recovery to do that twice in as many months. anyway, she stays.]

"We should formulate a safety plan."

Joan finishes the line she was working on and clicks save so she doesn't have to end up doing this report all over again. This has his second sponsor written all over it. Rashida, having completed her PHD, has been taking classes in behavioral science possibly with an eye for a new specialty. She means well, and she and Sherlock get each other like a pair of esoteric intellectuals only could. It's still strange to get confirmation that he talks about her illness with other people. "A safety plan."

"Yes! A short, memorable list of agreed upon actions in the case of emergent medical and/or emotional, um, turmoil."

"We never had a safety plan for you."

 "Didn't we?"

"Fine, so you'll let me pass out wherever I drop and just leave a protein bar by my head so I don't die of hypoglycemic shock when I wake up two days later."

"That's all you did?"

"So I'll let you know if I'm not feeling well and up to whatever's going on." His expression is unreadable, which is rare. "What? You implied pretty heavily that you wanted me to."

Incomprehensibly, his expression becomes almost sad. "That's why you remain so closed off, because of my history of resistance to..." 

"Okay, this conversation swerved past making sense. I tell you things all the time. This morning, with your cereal?"

"When *truly* bothered, you keep it to yourself and speak to no one, unless I draw it out of you."

"I speak up when I have something to say. And, I will."

-

"Have you considered cutting your hair?" 

"I'm not getting chemo, Mom. I told you."

"I know. It's just so much to take care of. My cousin Darlene, she had radiation. It drained her. You'll be tired."

"You've always wanted me to cut my hair."

Her expression grows softer, more wistful. "I do like it shorter." 

"I remember." Ruefully her entire catalogue of school photos scrolls through her memory. Mom's rule had been adamant and easy to follow: Never past the chin. "I'm not doing that again."

"Okay. Your choice." 

Joan doesn't rise to the hint of passive-aggression. 

A few hours later, she gets home from treatment, she takes a shower, and she tries to see tonight playing out in a possible near future. She adds imaginary weights to her wrists and ankles, and the almost unbearable weariness after watching a murderer get to go home scot-free. 

"Fine," she tells her reflection. 

She puts her mom on FaceTime, so she can see the results.

Her mom squints. "You didn't cut that much."

"Four inches." Just enough so she doesn't have to strain to get the brush through while she's blow drying.

“Hm.“

“Anyway, I’ll see you Thursday for tea, Mom?“

-

Lord save her from aspiring criminals who think they're too cool for the interrogation room. Anthony Raymond has been stonewalling them since Bell brought him in. What makes this especially annoying is he won't even ask for a lawyer. They'd tell him to spill his guts, or at least start negotiations for a deal. This nothingness isn't ideal when she has to take off for treatment soon. If she doesn't get this nut cracked before she goes, it'll be hanging over her head for the rest of the afternoon.

The door opens. Anthony doesn't move a muscle. Gregson enters bearing an extra-large fountain drink, a pen, and a piece of paper. He sits, thoughtfully configuring these objects around his immediate space. It takes a full thirty seconds, during which he doesn't acknowledge Anthony at all. He slides the paper toward Joan.

'Paige made you a smoothie. Not sure what's in this, but she swears by it.'

Joan glances at Anthony as though she learned something important, then looks back at the note. "Hm." She takes the pen. 'I'm good. Thank you both.'

'Holmes said you haven't really eaten yet.' He pushes the drink about an inch in her direction.

Joan makes two straight lines, one each for 'I'm' and 'Good'. 

[perp eventually cracks because their note-passing is freaking him out]

[slightly later, joan brings the smoothie into gregson's office. he asks what she thought of it. she says "i didn't try it" and throws it in the garbage.]

-

It's Saturday, the end of her first week of treatment, and there aren't any murders. Joan texts the guy she liked from TrueRomantix, the one who came to check that she was safe when Everyone doxxed her and hacked her profile. He's still cute. She can't remember exactly why they didn't sleep together the last time, something about it not feeling right. Meanwhile he fosters seeing-eye dogs and he has the best pectorals she's ever seen.

She takes off her bra, but leaves the camisole. It's dark in his bedroom, but not too dark for either of them to see her scars or the semi-circle constellation of radiation tattoos. At one point she guides his hand underneath to her right breast. When he goes for the left, she distracts with a move that almost has his eyes bugging out of his head.

"Wow," he breathes.

When they're done, he doesn't push her to leave *or* ask her why she isn't staying. They'll be doing this again sometime.

-

[another patient in the waiting room at the radiation clinic starts having a medical emergency. joan immediately jumps forward to help and the patient's mom looks at her like who the fuck are you. it sticks with her the whole rest of the afternoon.]

She's been in a position where people have doubted her expertise before, many times. But never because she was meant to be on the other side. She's a patient, that's her role now.

Briefly she considers lying. The Uber app is acting weird, something like that. She settles on a simple, 'Are you busy?'

She gets her reply in less than thirty seconds. 'Need a ride?'

When Marcus arrives at the clinic, he touches her arm and kisses her cheek, a note of intimacy between close friends. It feels natural, even though his customary greeting, usually at crime scenes or the bull pen, is a brusquely friendly "Hey." They communicate mainly in nods and smiles intended only for each other, cups of coffee as close to the way they like it as limited resources will allow. 

After they settle into the car, he doesn't turn the engine on right away. He waits, unobtrusively.  

"I don't want to disrupt any plans you might've had for today," she says.

He lifts one shoulder. "Just a pickup game. Nothing I can't put off for another week."

"Actually..."

He turns his head. "Hm?"

She was warned not to expect anything fancy. No bleachers, not much crowd. Kids of varying ages drift by, many popping in and out of the tiny storefronts. 

She can't remember the last time she simply existed in public when she wasn't jogging or staking out a criminal. The open air feels refreshing. Not one of these people care that she used to be a doctor.

After the first quarter, she asks to borrow the chair of a guy selling hats, scarves, and phone chargers from a folding table. He was spending most of his time at the halal cart talking to the man stuck inside anyway.

-

The chair is comfortable. The lighting tasteful. Joan's shoes feel fine. The mid-level exec at the other end of the table isn't stonewalling in the slightest. His voice could almost be called soothing. 

All those other things aside, if this meeting doesn't end in the next few minutes she is going to jump out the window. 

Her knee bouncing, she shifts her upper body in a way that's hopefully not that visible to anyone else. It doesn't help, in fact the resulting movement of her bra over her left boob makes her want to scream.

"We appreciate your elucidation on Mr. Wallach's movements last Tuesday." Joan nearly bites her lip at the growing light at the end of the tunnel. "Now if you could tell us about the lawsuit from three months ago. Sexual harassment, was it not?"

Joan gets to her feet with a repressed groan. Then she runs for the receptionist. "Restroom?"

She's just stepped inside the single stall and slid the lock into place when she hears the deathly urgent, "WATSON???"

She curses fluently inside her head and undoes the lock, just in case. "Sherlock! I'm o-"

And he's barreled through the open door.

"What the hell!" She pulls together the unbuttoned half of her shirt. 

"I thought-" Over Sherlock's shoulder, a security guard starts coming into view. "What-what are you doing?"

"Sorry." Her face will probably remain this garish shade of red for...ever. "I'm, uh, peeling. Itch is driving me crazy."

He blinks, adrenaline making him shake slightly and keeping him from comprehending. "What?!"

"The only emergency right now is my imminent death by mortification." Her left hand tightly curled to protect her modesty, she makes a shooing motion with her right. "Go away."

He turns toward the door, then stops. "I've done the reading. If you have developed a rash, or the beginnings of dermatitis, scratching is highly inad-"

"OUT."

-

Lin greets her at the bar in her signature neurotically enthusiastic way. After tilting her head a little, she agrees to sit at a booth rather than stay near the bartender, where she loves to try out her charms to get free drinks for the two of them.

"I've never seen you go hard like this." She's waiting on the server to bring her second martini and Joan's third whiskey. "You look tired."

Joan waits until after the drinks have arrived. "Thanks, I had cancer."

"What?"

"Had," she repeats. "Had. As of yesterday, it's past tense. When I'm done with this course of radiation, I'll be free." She knocks on the table. "Until the follow-ups." 

Lin gets up to go to the bathroom without a word. Joan downs her drink and orders another round. To Lin's credit, she beats the server back to the table.

"So those times you said you couldn't meet up because you had cases..."

"One, oncologist appointment and two, actually a case. Sorry."

"You told your brother, didn't you?"

Because Joan is three drinks in, she doesn't hold anything back from her eyeroll. Her siblings having no relationship with each other is not on her. "That's different."

"Because he's real."

"Because he lives two hundred miles away! I didn't have to see...that. That expression, in my face, all the time."

"You could've died and I would never have known you were sick."

Joan snorts. "I was never *dying*." There was that period between her biopsy and the results of her lumpectomy, when decades-old memories of various patients, poor souls fading in front of her eyes, resurfaced every hour. Lin didn't need to be there for that.

"Look." Joan kisses Lin noisily on the cheek. "I just got the best news of my life and I wanted MY SISTER here with to celebrate being Officially. Cancer. Free!"

A table of young men nearby let out a cheer. Lin smiles in spite of herself.

-

Joan wakes up naturally. 

She spends a few minutes watching him. Many people say they'll sleep anywhere, but Sherlock actually will. And he never shows a single sign of stiffness or back pain. She envies him that, even as she acknowledges that she'd still prefer a bed, even if there were no consequences to sleeping on the floor. 

"Is this just the first time I caught you?" Her voice is husky from sleep. 

He springs to his feet. "Oh!" He runs off, returning no more than six minutes later with breakfast.

After placing the tray on the bed, he stands at her side, stiff and silent like a brooding Lurch. "What, no speech?" she teases.

He takes in a shaky breath. "It has been quite some time since I lost the ability to imagine a life without you in it. Gratitude isn't sufficient enough to describe how it feels to know this is a concern I can put off for another day."

"Oh, Sherlock." 

"These past few weeks have been fraught, for you." She gives a start. This has taken an unexpected turn. "Full of pain and fear, the reopening of old wounds. You've conducted yourself so admirably. My respect for you, which had appeared to reach its zenith years ago, I find had untold heights yet to climb." He leans toward her, his hand cradling the back of her head while his lips press against her hairline. 

He disengages, turning his back and she makes a tentative grab for his hand. He freezes in place, not resisting. "I love you, too," she says thickly, shoving aside tears.

Joan doesn't remember having done anything remotely admirable. She's been tired and snappish, she forced everyone to cater to her, she stopped doing her fair share of the work. The one person she tried to help didn't need her. It's been weeks since she felt like she existed for any worthwhile reason. 

Maybe that's why it's good to see herself through his eyes, just this once. She squeezes his hand, then quickly lets go, taking pity on him. Plucking the cloth napkin from the tray and pressing it against her eyes, she laughs. "So this was your plan for my last day? Get my face all blotchy just in time to go in there and say goodbye to all those people?"

"What does it matter? You'll never see them again.

[not-fuckmegentlywithaslurpee]

At the Altar (Connor Murphy x Reader)

A/N: Hey guys! So I think I poured my soul into this fic??? I generally take like a week to write things, but I wrote this in two days, and she’s pretty long too. I had this super bizarre dream about getting married to Connor Murphy and decided to turn it into this? I changed a lot though aha. Please send feedback, it would suuuuuper appreciated.

Word count: around 4000

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, intense emotions, a random “best friend” named Zella (named after Zella Day lmao), fighting, presumably a couple of anxiety attacks, and just all sorts of intense feelings

You were merely minutes away from your ceremony. You had just put on the dress when you got a text from Connor telling you he had to speak to you. You frowned, but nonetheless wrapped a bathrobe around yourself, and made your way down the hall to the hotel room you two would be staying in.

Connor stood in the middle the of room, clad in a black suit that you’d helped him pick out. He looked stunning. “Hey, what’s up?” You hugged the bathrobe closer around your body, trying to keep the surprise by obscuring your dress from view.

“What are they doing here?” Connor crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching you expectantly.

“What do you mean?” You asked, taking a step towards him.

Something in Connor shifted, and the tension in the room became palpable. “Oh don’t give me that, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” He seemed almost speechless like there were too many words coming into his brain, but he couldn’t which ones took priority. He let out a frustrated breath. “I was just walking around greeting guests, and suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I see my parents. And Zoe. And at first, I thought maybe they were crashing our wedding—doesn’t seem too out of character for them. But then your parents were telling them ‘how happy we all were they could make it.’” You felt your stomach drop. “Do you want to explain to me why my family is here?”

You bit your lip, afraid to speak. You had intended to warn him this morning, but with everything… it had slipped your mind. Standing across from him now, you could see etched all over Connor’s face how terrible of an idea this had been. Circling the truth would only make things worse. “I invited them.”

It was the answer Connor had been expecting, but a look of betrayal crossed his face all the same. Then there was a silence that almost enveloped you. You watched Connor, gripping your bathrobe like it was your lifeboat, trying to find some way to turn this around. Connor turned away from you, gazing out the window, so perfectly calm it was almost terrifying. “I didn’t want you to regret not having them here,” you said softly, scared to make your voice above a whisper. Everything suddenly felt so fragile.

His voice was flat. “But that really wasn’t your decision to make, was it?”

“I—”

“No,” he whirled on you. “You don’t get to go around acting like you know what's best for me. Going behind my back? During our wedding?” you tried to speak again, but he continued, not letting you. “We’re not fucking playing dolls Y/N, you can’t just rearrange everything whenever you feel like it.” Connor ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to make sense of what he was feeling. “You couldn’t bear to have a husband who might have his own baggage or, or—his own fucking issues. Is that it?”

Tears were wetting your face, but you ignored them as you took another step towards Connor, hands outstretched. “I’m not trying to fix you,” you tried to meet his eyes. You needed him to hear you—needed him to understand.

“No,” he said, resigned, making his way to sit on the bed. “Just change me.”

His words stung. You’d been together all these years, and that’s really what he thought of you? Really who he thought you were? “Of course I’m not trying to change you,” you responded, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Connor didn’t respond. He wouldn’t even look at you. You kept reminding yourself that Connor lashed out when he was hurt, and riling him up would only make things worse. You lowered your voice again. “I’ll send them away. I’ll tell them it was a misunderstanding, and that they need to leave.”

Connor let out a laugh, but it was humourless and misplaced as it sat in the space between you. “No, let them stay,” You furrowed your brows, confused by his change of heart. He shifted his gaze back to you, and his expression was unreadable. “But tell them I won’t be attending.”

At first, you thought you hadn’t heard him correctly.

How can you not attend your own wedding?

Your heart sunk before you even fully processed his words or what they meant. It was as if you were having a nightmare. This all felt too surreal and awful to be happening. “No, Connor, I’ll just send them—”

“You broke my trust. I'm not—” he cut himself off, burying his head in his hands. You stood there, numb. “You lied to me. I’m not marrying you like this.” He didn’t meet your eyes as he shattered everything into a million pieces.

You felt like you were going to be sick. Your whole body was shaking, and you were searching for words that could fix this—that could make this better somehow. But you came up with nothing. “Just… tell them it’s off. We’ll talk about this later.” He said, his eyes trained on the floor.

Your mind went blank. Looking at Connor, you realized there was nothing you could do. You turned on your heel and left the room.

~

You didn’t bother to take your wedding dress off.

You were a ball of hurt and mortification; the best day of your life was ruined, the most important relationship you’d ever had might have been as well, and at your core, you knew it was all your fault.

Everything was so broken that all the little things felt so irrelevant in comparison. You didn’t care how sad it was to be sitting to the side eating your own wedding cake as your mother stood in front of everyone to announce that your wedding was canceled.

Due to the expenses of the whole event, people were invited to stay and eat the food that had been prepared. Most people had the right mind to leave as soon as they could, but a few braved the somber remnants of the event. They drank champagne and ate pieces of cake, sending regretful glances your way. Your Maid of Honor and best friend Zella sat with you, a glass of champagne in hand. Periodically people came up to you and gave their condolences. You barely knew how to respond except for a meek “thank you for coming.” If you had been in a regular state of mind, their apologies would’ve made everything worse, but your head was underwater. Almost nothing could make you feel worse.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Zella asked, putting her hand lovingly on your shoulder. You shook your head, putting another forkful of cake in your mouth. It tasted incredible, which made you really angry. She let out a sigh, taking a sip of her champagne.

The venue was mostly empty now. You’d booked rooms in the hotel across the street because it was so close to where you were supposed to hold your reception, and it would be easy to get ready and then walk over. Now the building mocked you as it stood there, the window to you and Connor’s room visible from where you were seated. “I can’t believe he left you at the altar,” Zella said disdainfully.

You groaned, shoving more stupidly delicious cake in your face. “Well, he didn’t really leave me,” you muttered, the cake impairing your ability to speak. You grabbed the champagne from Zella’s hand, taking a long sip to help you wash down the dessert. “He’s like a five-minute walk away. He just stood me up.” You had whiplash from how quickly everything had gone wrong. “I just… I dreamed of this day for so long, and just like that, it all came apart.”

Your friend opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything one of your cousins came running up, face red and alarmed. “Y/N, it’s your mom—”

“What?” You were on your feet in seconds, the urgency in their voice scaring you.

“She just collapsed. Your dad said it was a heart attack? The ambulance just got here, and right now they’re driving her—” your whole world went quiet. You didn't know it was possible to feel both freezing cold and scorching hot at once, but your body was at odds, and your brain just sat there doing nothing. What happened? Why couldn’t you breathe?

Your cousin's lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear anything. You vaguely felt arms around you. Zella. She had her arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up.

The two were talking frantically, but they may as well have been speaking in another language because all you could hear were the words heart attack over and over. The next time you looked up, your cousin was gone. Your body was shaking. You realized you were crying, but you didn’t know when you’d started.

Zella was trying to get your attention, repeating your name over and over. You locked eyes with her, searching for some kind of answer. “We’re going to meet them at the hospital, Y/N. But first, we have to go take your dress off. Your dad is with her, so she’s not alone.” Zella’s voice was soft like she was trying to coax a small animal out of hiding. You could barely see her. Your vision felt like watercolour.  

Another sob racked your body, but your friend just hung on tighter. “She’ll be okay,” she kept repeating, over and over, as if saying it would make it true. She led you through the hotel, past rows and rows of doors. You were fighting to breathe as Zella helped you down the hall towards the room you’d gotten ready in. Once you were inside, your numb hands started pulling frantically at your dress, trying to get it off of your body. You needed to get it off. You needed to get it off. After a few more tugs you gave up. You started backing up until your legs hit the edge of the bed and you sat down. As soon as the mattress had caught your weight, you curled in on yourself. The tears were coming faster than before. You felt ripped open.

“What’s happening?”

You hadn’t heard Connor enter, but somehow his voice had made its way through your panic. He sounded concerned, almost desperate, and you could picture the face he was probably making. Everything about him had become so known to you, and in any other situation that would’ve brought you peace. Now it only made you ache. You started breathing in short bursts, your body tensing up as if it was trying to squeeze itself to death. You could hear Zella explaining what had happened, and her words only made things worse. Everything was way, way too real.

You vaguely felt two hands on either leg, right at the spot where your knee turns into your thigh. Through the heavy fabric of your gown, you could feel circles being rubbed lightly into your skin. “Hey,” Connor said softly. “Y/N, look at me. Please.” You were shaking, your arms hugging yourself in a death grip. You wanted to dissolve, to stop existing. Instead, you lifted your head.

Connor’s warm eyes met yours, searching. Your gut twisted, but before you could bury your head back between your knees his hands came up to either side of your face, helping you stay upright. “Hey,” he said again, as his fingers skimmed over your cheeks, wiping away the tears that were overflowing. “Try to breathe with me, okay?” He started taking slow, exaggerated breaths.

In, out, in, out, in, out...

Zella was unlacing you wedding dress behind you, but you barely noticed. All your effort was going into breathing. You focused on the rise and fall of Connor’s chest and the sound of the air leaving his lips. You willed your body to cooperate, but you were shutting down. “I’m right here okay, just focus on me.” He tucked some loose hairs behind your ear, and it sent a ticklish sensation through your body. You started to ground yourself slowly as your breath started coming easier. “That’s it, just breathe.”

As soon as he’d spoken, Zella announced the dress was unlaced. Connor pulled your hands from your lap and placed them on his shoulders so you could brace yourself as he helped you stand up. “Do you want me to wait outside?” He asked, taking a step back from you. You felt unstable, and Connor watched you, ready at any moment to step forward if you needed help standing. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

Waiting outside meant he wasn’t leaving. He was still here for you. Waiting outside meant things were alright, at least for now. “Yes,” you said, your voice wavering. He nodded, concern etched into his face. You didn’t know what to do or what to say. After a moment, he turned and left.

~

Connor offered to drive you to the hospital. You sat in the passenger seat, with your legs tucked up to your chest. Buildings were passing by you, and the sunny demeanor of the world around you felt offensive in the face of all that was happening. Anxiety did a waltz in your gut, keeping you locked within yourself. Your whole body was like a tightened ball of wire.

In your periphery, you could see Connor glance over at you for maybe the tenth time this car ride. He looked scared and unsure, something you weren’t used to. The air you were breathing felt thick, and you tried to keep your mind focused on the images outside your window, and not on all the worst case scenarios yelling at you from the back of your brain. NO matter how hard you tried to redirect your focus, one word was taunting you. You just kept hearing it, over and over.

Death, death, death—

Connor’s hand grabbed yours, squeezing. You felt yourself come back to the small car as you watched his thumb move up and down the side of your hand. It was the only sensation holding you to the moment. As long as focused on that small feeling, you could be okay. You would have to be.

~

You and Connor had walked into the waiting room, where your dad was sitting in anxious anticipation. With considerable side eye at Connor, your dad had explained everything that had happened, going into detail about how your mom had just collapsed while she was helping to clean up. Almost immediately after your arrival, a doctor started heading towards you with a clipboard in her grip. Your body tensed as you shifted to look at her. You searched the expression on her face, hoping it would betray what she was about to say, hoping it would betray she wasn’t carrying bad news.

“She’s in stable condition. The heart attack wasn't very severe, and luckily she was brought here quickly enough that we could help her before too much damage was done,” you were so relieved you could’ve fallen over. “She’s awake now but will be very tired so you can visit her, but not for too long. She’ll need to rest.”

“I’ll wait for you here,” Connor said, taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable looking chairs. You nodded, mouthing a small thank you before turning to follow the Doctor to the room they were keeping your mom in.

She smiled when you walked into her. She looked bone tired, a juxtaposition the way she had been smiling at you this morning, back before everything had gone wrong. ‘Hi Mom,” you said in a small voice, leaning over to give her the gentlest, but warmest hug you could. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” she smiles.

The three of you sat in a grateful silence for a moment, relishing the calmness that had come after the storm. “God, what a big day.”

“You can say that again,” your dad says, reaching out and taking your mother's hand. “And guess who drove her here?” Your Dad said, raising his eyebrows at you.

Your mom frowned. “Who?”

“None other than the runaway groom himself.” Your Dad didn’t sound approving or disapproving, just amused.

“Dad,” you punched his shoulder, though not hard enough to hurt him, and he chuckled.

“Does this mean you guys are going to be okay?” She asked, the look on her face hopeful. She’d always been fond of Connor, so when you’d told her you two were getting married she had been overjoyed.

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Now that all peril was over, you realized you had to actually face the whole wedding situation, even though every part of you wanted to melt back into a sense of normalcy. “I really hope so.”

Your mom looked thoughtful for a moment before simply saying, “go.”

“What?” You furrowed your brow, not fully sure you were ready to leave your mom’s side.

She reached out and grabbed your hand. “I’m alright. Go home with Connor, you’ve had a long day. And you two have a lot to talk about.” She gave it a small squeeze before releasing it.

“Are you sure mom?” You asked, not fully wanting to leave her here.

Your dad patted your shoulder. “She’ll be fine, she needs some sleep anyway. I’ll hold down the fort.”

You looked between the two of them, trying to gage if they were truly fine with you leaving. A part of you was so exhausted though, so you decided not to fight it. “I love you both.”

You made your way back to the waiting room where Connor was sitting with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked like he was falling asleep, but when he saw you approaching he came to alert. “How is she?”

“She’s good,” you let out a breath. “She wanted me to go home, get some rest.” Connor nodded, and both of you made your way to leave, walking beside each other in a perfectly matched pace. Neither of you spoke a word as you navigated the hospital halls.

Hospitals were never a place you enjoyed, but when you’d walked in merely an hour ago it had looked like a crime scene. But the washed out wallpaper and synthetic lights didn’t seem as grotesque anymore. They made you feel hopeful, almost.

“You look tired, I’ll drive,” you extended your hand expectantly, waiting for Connor to place his car keys onto your palm.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. However tired I look, you look about... ten times worse.” Connor unlocked the car and yanked open the driver's side door, careful not to scrape the car beside him as he maneuvered in.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, hurriedly getting in the passenger seat. “Uncalled for.”

Connor laughed, glancing over at you as you buckled your seat belt. “I’m sorry, but the truth hurts.” He reached over and pulled down your mirror, and you were met with two wild-looking raccoon eyes.

“Oh my god.”

“Yep,” Connor said smugly, moving to put on his own seatbelt. Your makeup had run down your face from all the crying, and trails off mascara were interrupted from where you had probably wiped the tears away. You reached a hand up to try and smooth down your hair: there was something crazed about the way it was sticking up all over the place, contradicting the perfect way it had been styled earlier in the day.

You stared for a moment longer, tilting your head from side to side to get the full view. All the stress of the day came washing over you, and you couldn’t stop yourself. You started laughing. “I look like a Tim Burton character,” today was meant to be perfect, but instead you got this shit show. “I’m like the corpse bride,” you said. “No wonder you didn’t want to marry me.”

Connor froze, his hand on the ignition. You wiped some stray tears from beneath your eyes, realizing you were starting to blur the lines between laughing and crying. “How many times can I cry in a day? You’d think I’d be dry at this point.” You reached up and flipped the car mirror out of sight. The girl in its reflection was mocking you with how close and cracked open she was. You couldn’t bear looking at her anymore. You couldn’t bear that she was you.

There was a vast silence as Connor seemed to be struggling to figure out what to say. “That’s not what that was about.” You were acutely aware of the divide between you two. The small space between your two seats suddenly felt like an entire ocean.

“No I know, it’s because I lied. I understand that.” You started wringing your hands, needing a movement to focus on while you spoke. “And I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry.” Connor just watched you, not saying a word. “But you left me, Connor.”

“I didn’t leave you,” he said defensively. “I mean, how else was a supposed to react?” It was your turn to say nothing, turning your gaze out the window. “Did you really want to get married while I’m mad at you?” he didn’t elaborate further, so you pictured it. The feeling of distance between you tainting your wedding memories forever, his eyes avoiding yours, both of you only smiling for the cameras, a honeymoon spent in a bed facing away from each other.

You reached up and wiped another tear from your cheek. “No,” you said matter-o-factly, sounding defeated. You met his eyes, unable to avoid them anymore. “When I walk down the aisle I want you to see me and—” you breathed in sharply, trying to get the words out, but your chest felt like it was constricting. You couldn’t keep the cry from your voice as you said, “I want you to see me and be happy.”

Connor’s whole demeanor softened. You brought your hands up to your chest, pressing against your sternum, trying to take your sadness and trap it within your lungs. He reached across the divide and took both your hands in his, pulling you back to reality. “And I will be,” he said, giving you a small, melancholic smile. You nodded silently, more tears falling. “Today just wasn’t our day… and that’s okay.”

“I’m sorry I tried to force you to reconcile with your family. That wasn’t my place.” You gave his hands a squeeze. “But it’s not because I think you’re broken. I’ve never thought that, and I’m sorry I didn’t make that clearer.”

Connor brought your hands up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Thanks for saying that.” You pulled your hands from his grasp and reached for his hair, playing with the locks hanging loose at his cheeks. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, even if I was angry.”

You leaned across the seats and pressed a kiss to his lips, and Connor’s hands automatically came up to run lightly across your sides. You pulled away and smiled at him. “So where do we go from here?” You asked him, retreating back to your side of the car, eyes not leaving his face.

Connor pondered that for a moment. “Well, I still want to get married.

“Me too.”

“Why not…” Connor asked slowly, scrunching his face in thought. “Why don’t we elope?”

“Now?” you looked at him incredulously. “Connor, I look like a zombie.”

Connor laughed, sizing you up. “You’ve looked worse.”

“Connor!” you crossed your arms in front of your chest. He laughed at you, but his words didn’t sting. If anything, it made you feel relieved, the tension between you was finally dissipating.

“But no, not today. I don’t even know when. But maybe we should just have a small, personal wedding, just us. That feels a little more our speed.”

You mulled that over for a moment. You’d always thought you would have a big white wedding, but today had been so exhausting the prospect of doing it all over again seemed gross. “I don’t think we could afford any other kind of wedding,” you said, but your mind was already racing with possibilities. “And we could do it somewhere nice! Somewhere out of town.”

Connor grinned, and your heart warmed up. “Yes, that sounds perfect.”

“At least I’ve already bought my wedding dress, so that’s one less expense.”

“And,” the look he gave you sent shivers down your spine, “you looked… beautiful in it.”He leaned right close to your ear, speaking in a hushed tone. “I was jealous I wasn’t the one unlacing it.” Your breath hitched. He nipped at your neck, and you yelped, pushing him off you with a laugh.

“I was bawling my eyes out you perv!” You exclaimed, thinking back to the only time he’d seen you in your dress. You leaned back against the car door and gave him a look you knew would drive him crazy, “And you’ll get your turn, believe me.”

Connor took your face his hands, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around him, getting as close as you could without losing your balance. He pulled away to meet your eyes. “I look forward to it.” He pressed another small kiss to the tip of your nose, before going back to his seat and starting the car. “Now let's get home, you actually look like you're going to pass out.”

“Ha. Ha.” you said, giving him a mock sour look, a small smile peeking through.

He watched you for a moment, and you wish you could’ve captured the look of admiration on his face. You studied every part of him, hoping to hold this moment in your memory forever. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you said as he started driving. You settled back into your seat, and not even a moment later you were fast asleep.

A/N: Thanks for making it to the end and reading this whirlwind of a story. I’m sorry it definitely covered a lot of different areas, and might not have followed the usual fanfiction structure, but its just how it had to go down. In my dream my mom died (well actually she faked her death), and Connor didn’t care soooo I changed this a lot from what it originally was. But being left at the altar, even in your dreams, SUCKS. Also, did any notice the themes of dissociation and anxiety? Because that definitely wasn’t me projecting AT ALL (nudge nudge sarcasm nudge nudge)

But ANYWAY Thank you SO MUCH for reading, I hope you enjoyed it <3 ~ Bardot

[sweetlialia]

A new home, chapter 1

It was the third of October 1998 and Harry sat alone in the deserted potion classroom. He didn’t even have to try to picture the scene that should been playing in front of his eyes, it was there: Snape wandering around them, his eyes unreadable as they watch them brew, Hermione biting her lips in focus while Ron would be mumbling to his cauldron. Zabini and Malfoy would be working without talking; only glancing at Parkinson’s potion from time to time to correct something he would later repeat to Ron. As always, the lesson would end up when Seamus blew something up. He had learned new ways of making things explode and never failed to help Neville escape Snape’s animosity.

But not today.

Today Harry was sitting alone at his desk, letting his fingers feel the old wooden table as he wonders what happened to them.

Not many people he knew went back to Hogwarts. The Patil sisters were taking their classes from home, he heard, and Cho’s family had moved away. Hannah told him that Ernie had joined the Auror Training Program while Finch-Fletchley had temporarily left the Wizarding World for a year at Eton. None of the Slytherin he knew seemed to be there either. But hopefully, his best friends were still by his side. He still had Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ron and Hermione with him. His heart missed Ginny and Luna. They were supposed to be here too, but he hadn’t seen them since they took a Portkey to Brazil after Fred’s funeral.

 “You ok Harry?

-Oh, I hadn’t heard you come in.

-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you.

-No no, it’s fine Nev, you can stay. I was just, you know, thinking. It’s been kinda weird lately.

-Hogwarts will never be the same, not for us.

-I’d hope you’re wrong.” Harry shrugged. “but it feels true. Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home. It doesn’t feel like home anymore. When, when I came back here, the very first time I saw the castle from the platform, it felt like home. But home isn’t a place, right Neville, it’s its people. And our people, I don’t know where they are anymore, but it isn’t there.

-Harry, I have something to tell you…

-You’re leaving, too, that’s it? I know you’re taking some NEWT next week. I saw your book.

-I’m… I’m going to have a baby.”

 ***

30th April, 98.

I broke up with him today. I couldn’t tell him about the baby. About our baby. He’s already suffering too much, between Ombrage, Snape and the Carrows. His friends and him are still resisting, still fighting. If I tell him about the baby… I’m afraid he would try to protect me and risk his own life in the process. He has become so brave lately. I never thought I could fall for him. But here am I. Seventeen and pregnant with his child. Sweet Merlin. What have I done?

I know it’s too late to do something about it. If I go back to Mrs Pomfrey and tell her I changed my mind... for a week or two, maybe she’ll send to St Mungo and… and I wouldn’t be pregnant anymore.

Is it wrong that I don’t want to? That I want this baby to live even if I don’t know in which world they will grow in? If Voldemort wins the war… I’m a pure blood, and he’s, too. Maybe we can survive his reign of terror. But he would never stop fighting, will he? Even if we run away… He would try to fight for a better world; he would say things like “our child deserves the world I’m fighting for”. And he would be right. But then, he would die, and my baby would never know his father.

If only I could tell someone… but mom and dad would kill me/ and him. And my friends would never understand… I’m not even sure that we’re friends anymore anyway. We’re barely talking anymore. Everything in this castle is slowly rotting and smelling like death. We haven’t heard about Harry for months. I guess he ran away with Hermione and Ronald, making babies in France.

 But what if Voldemort loses? If he loses, I would have deprived my child of a wonderful father. If said father wants him. I can’t picture him rejecting us, but… he’s not used to them as I am now. If I tell him for the baby and he rejects me…

Stop, enough thoughts for today. Time to go to sleep.

 I really like Alice, if it’s a girl. Just like his mom.

I’m gonna make it out alive for you.

And I’ll tell dad. You just have to be patient.

   ***

Harry stood up, silent, as Neville’s words reached his brain. He was going to have a baby. A baby. Neville was going to have a baby and he didn’t have a single clue on who was the mother. Neville was going to have a baby. Neville had had sex with someone. Neville who, not so long ago was waltzing on its own after the Yule ball was going to have a baby. Neville who never dated anyone expect Ginny at the Yule ball was going to have a baby.

“How?” was somehow the only word his brain could manage.

“I’ve met this girl while you were um, hunting, and I don’t know how but we end up dating and now she’s pregnant. It wasn’t planned, but she’s almost here, so I have no other choice but to leave school. I talked to Professor McGonnagal before summer and that’s why I’m only studying herbology ten hours a day, six days out of seven. Once I have my NEWT I have a job at a flower shop. It won’t be easy, but my granny isn’t pleased with the new and hasn’t planned on helping me financially. She said she’ll help me with the practical things such as how to change a diaper and how to hold a baby but I need money to feed the baby and buy said diaper and so I need a job and

-Neville Neville stop please! You’re going to die if you don’t breath!

-It’s a little bit overwhelming.

-A little bit, yeah. Just breath for a few secs, okay?

-I don’t have a few secs! She’s due for early November!

-She?

-Yes, she.” Neville smiled, nodding. “A little girl. A watermelon sized baby girl. But that’s all I know! I just know she’s watermelon sized! And that she’ll be Scorpio. Why would I care about her muggle astrologic zodiac? I’m going to have a baby in a month Harry! A baby! I don’t know anything about baby! Or about anything in general. I’m just a kid, I’m not supposed to have a kid on my own, not now. I’m not even able to keep an eye on a toad! So a baby! I’m gonna make her fall or forget her in the bath or the train or

-I’ll help you! Neville, I’ll help you! I promise. You won’t be alone. You won’t be alone and it’s gonna be okay. Do you hear me, Neville Longbottom? You won’t be alone. Now breath. You’re gonna be a great dad, ok? Say it, you’re gonna be a great dad.

-I’m gonna be a great dad.

-Again.

-I’m gonna be a great dad.

-Does anyone except your grandmother and Professor McGonnagal know about him?

-Her parents and bestfriends.

-Are they supportive?

-They kicked her out of their home. She’s staying at her best friend’s place until we gather enough money to rent a flat.

-Shit I’m sorry… Do you… Are you guys together?

-Yes, since last year. But no one knew… Harry, you have to promise me you won’t be mad…

-Why would I? You haven’t get Ginny pregnant, right? Neville, you haven’t get Ginny pregnant?

-No no no! Plus you were together back then! I wouldn’t have!

-Geez. Then, who’s the girl?

-Promise you won’t be mad.

-You’re scaring me. But okay, I promise.

-I’m with Pansy Parkinson.

  ***

Pansy was lying on the bed, facing the world outside of the window. It has been days, and she hadn’t said a word.

“Pansy… Talk to me, please…”

 The silence treatment wasn’t new. She had always made up walls to protect herself, and those walls had always needed silent. Ordinarily, he would have given her some space and time to deal with whatever she had to deal with; waiting patiently until she felt ready to open up. But now wasn’t ordinarily, they didn’t have time. The Aurors would show up sooner than later.

“Pansy…” he whispers again, afraid to speak out loud; afraid of his own voice in the silence of the Manor. “I’m here.” He climbed on the bed and snuggled against her, hiding his face in her long dark hair, twisting their hands. “I love you Pans. No matter what’s going on on your head, and no matter what’s going to happen, I love you.” “I love you” he repeated, when he felt her closing the gap between their bodies. “and I will always love you.

-I love you too, Draco.” She finally whispered back, raising their linked hands to her lips. She was crying.

 The moon was high when a thud noise woke them up. Eyes opened in the dark and hearts beating fast, they heard Narcissa high pitched scream.

“The Aurors.” Draco finally realised, quickly rising from the bed and running to the door, trying to lock them in. It hasn’t been another nightmare; the sounds were real, they were real. And Pansy wasn’t moving. “Pansy, you have to Apparate to Blaise’s. Follow the plan, Pans’, move! You have to go! Now! Apparate!

-Come with me!

-I can’t! Come on Pansy, go! Please, I beg you! They can’t find you there! You haven’t done anything for Him, they can’t find you here! Move, please!

-Draco…” Her body stayed still as she turned her head toward the window, catched by the numerous Lumos coming from the gardens.

“Draco! Draco son! Come downstairs now!” they heard Lucius call. He was giving them time, it was nearly too late.

“Pansy! Go away!

-I’m pregnant Dray.” She croaked, finally turning her gaze to him.

“What?

-I’m pregnant!

-You’re pregnant!

-Draco! Downstairs now! They won’t hurt you!” his father’s voice was nearer, and he swears he could hear people run up the stairs.

-Oh Sweet Salazar Pansy! Should I congratulate you?

-Could you?

-Is the father good to you? Does he love you?” he hurried, hope blowing in his chest.

“He told me so, but I broke up with him, it’s Neville, I was so scared and now I fucked up everything and

-Draco! Out! Now!

-Draco!” His mother’s voice echoed.

“Get back to him. Apparate to Blaise and get back to him. They will take care of you. I love you Pans, now go! Please, for the child, leave now!

-I love you too, Draco!” she cried in a loud crack as the door behind Draco’s back began to tremble.  

 ***

 Harry stood silence, shocked, for the second time in less than fifteen minutes. The mother was Pansy Parkinson. Pansy fucking Parkinson.

The girl who tried to held him to the Voldemort.

It just couldn’t be true.

 “Harry, please, say something.

-Pansy Parkinson?

-She’s really nice, when you get to know her.

-When did you get to know her? How the fuck did you get to know her?! Last time I saw her she tried to get me killed! And now you’re telling me she’s pregnant? That you got her pregnant? If this is some kind of a joke, it’s a really lame one.

-I’m not joking, Harry. I’m dating her since last December.

-Last December.

-We had detention together at Flich’s. She had hex a Carrow, to avenge a girl he had hit.

-And a good action is enough to buy back a past of pettiness and cruelty?

-She’s not cruel.

-So we agree on petty.

-Harry…

-She tried to get me killed; I have the right to call her petty.

-She didn’t want to, she

-She wanted me to die. She wanted me to surrender when an army was standing outside of our walls, Nev’. She was the reason why all Slytherins ended up in the dungeon instead of in the battlefield, fighting with us. She betrayed us.

-She was trying to save her baby. My baby.

-By having all of us killed?

-It was a really stupid plan.

-Indeed.

-She’s sorry. She’s really sorry. She threatened you to make sure our child will live whatever side win! If we had lost that day, I’d be dead and she’ll be raising our child in a convent. If we had lost and she had run to my side, Voldemort would have killed her too.

-She’s a Slytherin, a Pureblood, Malfoy’s bestfriend, if we had lost and she’d stayed silent, she’d have been safe. There was no need to send me to Voldemort.

-She could’ve hexed you. She’s brilliant, you know? She could’ve hexed you and carry you out herself, but she didn’t even try.

-Bless her.

-Harry. I’m trying to tell you that she isn’t the mean girl you think she is! And even if she’s been, she’s not anymore. And she wasn’t anymore when I talk to her for the first time last year. Believe me Harry. Believe in my judgment. Have I ever been something else than a friend to you? Have I ever been unworthy of our trust?

-Neville…

-Just try, Harry. Promise me you’ll try.”

Harry paused for a few seconds, inhaling deeply before nodding toward his friend. “If I found out she’s still that sneaky little bitch, I’ll rip her heart out.

-Harry, she’s my baby’s mom.

-I swear to Godric, don’t say that again or I’ll puke on your shoes.

-Duly noted.

-And, Neville.” Harry called out as his friend walked out the door. “I still love you.”

 ***

 T,

 I don’t know if my owl will reach you before they do. They broke into MM last night. I checked the news at dawn, they’re taking them to A. G has been taken too. I haven’t read about you, I hope you’re safe.

 P is safe. Terrified, but safe.

We’ll meet where it had all begun when the week is over.

B.

 ***

 “Come on, Ron, you promised me you’ll help me!

-But I promised Harry we’ll play tonight, sorry!” Ron lied as they got into the common room.

“Is it true, Harry?

-Huh?

-You arranged a game tonight?

-huh, yeah, sure. Wanna join?

-I got my DADA essay and

-Have you ever played Quidditch Hermione? I’ve never seen you.

-I’d rather watch than play.

-You never tried?” Ron, apparently stunned by the new, stopped dead on his track. “How come?

-Neville never had, either.” She tried when she spotted the boy reading by the fireplace.

“Neville what?

-You never played Quidditch, right?

-I almost die the first time I got on a broom for the recall.

-Long time ago, come on, we’re playing tonight!

-I still don’t want to die.

-Nev be fun for once! You’re acting more hermionish that Hermione herself!

-Hermionish?

-He’s practically dating his books.

-At least they’re not trying to break his neck.

-Lovebirds, lovebirds, please be quiet.” Seamus asked, climbing on the couch. “We’re not going to study tonight, but we’re not gonna play Quidditch either. Tonight we celebrate!

-Dean, get your leprechaun under control, for once.” Harry teased as said leprechaun stand still on the couch, arms open to the ceiling.

“Wait for the final.

-oh my, what’s going to explode?”

Dean raised his eyebrows, trying to contain a smile as Colin came running into the Eight Year common room, glass bottles in his hands, screaming I got them!I got them! to Seamus.

“I fear for my life.” He whispered as Seamus began to shake vigorously one of them.

“And I fear for mine.” he smiled, not taking his eyes away from his lover. “I fear for mine.

-You all know by now how amazing Dean is, right?” People cheered as Dean hide his face in his hands, making Ron and Cormac whistled louder.

“He’s not going to propose, right?

-He better not.”

“Well, Minnie knows it too! She asked him to do a mural on the courtyard; he’s gonna paint for Hogwarts! He’s gonna paint History!

-Mate! Congratulations!

-Come here, love, they wanna hear it from you!”

  “Wow. That was pretty intense for a Thursday night.” Harry enthused, back in their shared dormitory. The party was slowly fading now that they had retired upstairs, but they didn’t really care. The new has been shared and the sparkling wine drank. Life still had happiness to offer them, they knew it; they were still teens, they remembered it. But their need to celebrate every little glimpse of happiness came from a dark place within their heart, and they knew now not to live harder than they felt.

“Congrats mate. That’s fucking brilliant.

-Seamus makes it seems far greater than it is, you know.

-McGonnagal asked you to paint the Second Wizarding War and honour the fallen, Dean. That isn’t anything. Your work is going to be there for decades! Harry’s right, it’s fucking brilliant!

-It’s just…” Dean sighed, suddenly looking away, searching something in the darkness of the night.

“It’s okay. We’re okay now.” Seamus reminded him, leaving Neville’s Wizards and Witches cards to get to his side. “It’s over now.” He said, trying to keep his voice low and steady as he kissed his boyfriend’s temple. “We’re okay.” He repeated a last time, snuggling himself against him.

“It’s just…”he began again, gripping Seamus a little bit closer. “It reminds me of Luna. When we were in the Malfoy’s cellar, we used to paint on the walls. Malfoy had found out and started bringing us pigmented coal. That’s all we did for weeks. Paint with our fingers on dirty walls.

-But there wasn’t light.” Ron objected, slightly shivering at the memory of Hermione’s screams. “We couldn’t see much down there.

-I never said it was pretty. But it did keep us sane. And hopeful. And, and that what I want this mural to be, you know. I don’t want to paint what happened. I don’t want to paint the snatchers chasing us, Fudge lying to us or even the Goblet of Fire. I don’t want to paint Wood and his guys flying over Hogwarts at the start of the battle, I don’t want to paint the statues jumping down of their pillar. I don’t want to paint you, Neville, taking out Godric’s sword. I don’t want the pain, anger and madness we all felt to flourish on Hogwarts’s walls. I only want to draw the hope. But how can I do it now? Half of our friends hadn’t come back. Luna and Ginny … Sometimes, I don’t even know where to look to find hope. I know I’ll be happy. I’ve got you, I’ve got Seam, but… there’s something still missing, you know? I’d hoped for this day to come, all of us in our dorm, and now that it’s here, I just don’t know.” He paused, shaking his head. “I don’t know.

-I- I know what I hope for.” Neville started tentatively as no one seemed to be ready to talk. “I- I… I have hope in a better world. I hope my kids would grow in a better world than the one we grew into. We still have a lot to do, that’s for sure. We still need to heal and rebuilt our lives. But we also have to stay aware of our own bias and fight the pain that’s making us blind; cause we’ll all have to find within us the strength to forgive those who try to redeem themselves, and it will takes time, but I believe in it.

Dean, I don’t know how it could’ve felt in the cellar, but the hope you hold on to, I’ve felt it. I had the hope to see a day where we’d be all reunited; alive, safe and happy. I’ve endured the Carrows because I believed in victory, I believed in peace and in a better world. You haven’t lost hope. You accepted McGonnagal offer because you believe in a future where students would learn about the war we made without worrying about how frail peace could be. You don’t want to paint pain and suffering because you have this hope that their world would let them be carefree and happy. And that day will come. But for the next decades, kids will get to Hogwarts and learn about how they lose members of their families. And they’ll go to the courtyard and look up to your artwork and they’ll see what they died for, they’ll see why they kept fighting until the end. And that will pass from generation to generation: there’s some good in this world and it’s worth dying for. That what I hope for, a world which learn from his mistake and never try to forget. A world where this war could’ve never happened.

-A world where a little Draco Malfoy would be shaking hand with a little Harry Potter.” Dean asked, trying to smile behind his tears.

“In the world Neville’s talking about, my son could befriend his.” Harry nodded before slowly walking toward his friend. “I’m sorry for what I said.” He whispered before embracing the father to be.

  ***

If someone had ever asked Blaise Zabini what colour does he despite the most, he would have probably answered red; red as the Gryffindor beanie he was actually wearing to be precise. Turning the page of his newspaper, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing: wearing the Saviour’s colour has been the only logical choice he made when he planned to meet the son of a Death Eater in King Cross. The Aurors were patrolling everywhere, looking for allies of the Dark Wizard, and Muggle one has been given pictures of the fugitives. If he wasn’t amongst them and came back to the house alive, then he would consider himself lucky. Otherwise, stupid would be perfectly suiting.

10h58. With a deep breath, Blaise stood up and, checking conscientiously his surroundings, stride toward platform 93/4.  The entire plan was stupid. He didn’t even know if Theo had read his owl. Letters were still opened daily, and a coded one could have been considered dubious. And even if he got it, who said he’d be coming? They had never been great friends. The risk was too high. Anyone could be an Auror, or a muggle Auror. Who knew what does a muggle Auror looked like?

10h59. He still had a few seconds. Breathing in and out, he pretended to lace his shoes, giving time for the weird looking guy to pass.

At 11h, he had crossed the wall and stood alone on the platform.

“Shit shit shit…” he mumbled, searching for a hint of a human being. Theo wasn’t there. No one was there. He’s been pathetic, thinking his plan has the smallest chance of succeed. When the week is over could have meant Sunday and not Monday and where it had all begun how fucking precise!

At 11h02, he decided that he would leave the station at 05. Here he was the easiest target of the whole United Kingdom. There were cameras everywhere in the muggle part of the station; his beanie and an atrocious muggle jumper wouldn’t be a sufficient disguise if the authorities were really working hand in hand to capture every witches and wizards suspected of being linked to Voldemort. And he was sure to be on the list.

11h03. He shouldn’t have stayed with Draco after he took the Mark. He shouldn’t have started to talk to Theo when Draco did. He should have been there for Draco before he took the Mark in the first place. Should have forced him to leave his home when his wonky father got out of Azkaban. Should have run away to France when Voldemort had return. Mistakes on mistakes, that’s what he’s done with his last two years.

11h04. Something caught his eyes. A raven had landed on the platform, eyeing him. Did raven could eye people? Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath and decided that those last sixty seconds could get screwed. If this wasn’t a normal raven…

“Croa.”

Blaise heart achingly stopped in his chest as the raven start croaking again, as it jumped to face him. He couldn’t make a step without the damned bird croaking at him, coming nearer.

“Croa.” The bird repeated, opening his wings, as others came flying above them.

“Petrificus Totalus!” He shouted. The raven fell to the ground, petrified, soon followed by another, and a third one until all the birds were left lifeless. “What have I done?” he asked himself in horror as he finally lowered his wand. Around him, circling him, were dozen of raven, draining from their blood. The fall has been lethal. He stumbled and felt his entire body react to the ferric smell filling his nostrils. He couldn’t stay there. The scattered feathers, the blood dripping on the ground, it was a slaughter. Feeling his stomach constrict again, he started running until he crossed the wall. He had to get away from there as quickly as possible. He had to leave King Cross before anyone found out the mess he made. He had to be home when the entire Auror department would be deployed, looking for the dark wizard who just performed a sinister ritual. He needed a plan. He needed to breathe. He needed to puke. But a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him behind the pillar with force before he could even try to steady himself. Panic invaded him as he fell his own body hit the bricks, suddenly blind to the world surrounding him. It’s over he cannot helped fearing as a hand covered hastily his mouth.      

 ***

“Having trouble sleeping?” Harry asked as he found his best friend playing wizarding chess at 2 am in the empty common room.

“Can’t sleep. You? Nightmares again?

-Again.

-Wanna play?

-I dunno, I

-Just sit. I’ll play for you.”

Harry grinned slightly before curling himself in the sofa, accio-ing a plaid. The warmth and roaring blaze of the fire was comforting, extracting him from the numbness of the woods. Being with Ron had always helped him feel better. The Weasley had always made him feel safe; at home.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about what Dean told us tonight.

-The mural?

-Hope.

-Oh.

-Do you think that’s why Ginny hasn’t come back yet? Because she’d lost hope in her future here?

-You think she has?

-She said she’ll be back for school. Mom said she’s send a postcard on the 4th, to tell us not to worry. But how can I not? She’s my baby sis…”

 ***

It was almost midnight when Pansy finally gave up and cast a shy lumos, blowing out the candles. Their flickering light was freaking her out more than lighting anything anyway and she couldn’t stand the strange shadows crawling around the shack they were hidden in. Blaise hadn’t come back yet, and the knots in her stomach grew tighter and tighter with every cracked and squeaked from the wooden planks. Outside, the wind was slamming branches against the windows, or what was left of them and she could feel the air coming in. It wasn’t a night to be left alone.

Plus it wasn’t on the plan. Blaise was supposed to meet Theo at 11, and then they were supposed to come to the hutch. Blaise was gone for more than fourteen hours now; it couldn’t be good. Something had happened.

Something happened to Blaise.

Something happened to Blaise; too.

He has been taken by the Aurors, or maybe the Muggle ones. Did they still torture people in the non-wizarding world?

Or maybe someone recognised him and hexed him; leaving him bleeding to death in an alley. By now he was probably in St Mungo, lying unnamed in the mortuary.

 She heard him cry before they left his house. She knew something happened before they went into the woods. He had read something in the Prophet and had burned the papers before she could see it. Draco was probably dying somewhere in Azkaban and now they were taking Blaise, too…

And she would never know if they were still alive.

And she would die in there, alone and terrified.

She would let herself die in there if he didn’t come back. She would never be able to survive on her own. She would never be able to leave the shack and get through the woods.

No, no, no, she would. She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts running freely inside of her mind, before her eyes. She couldn’t let herself lose hope now. She had to stay strong and keep moving. She couldn’t collapse. Maybe Blaise has been taken; maybe King Cross has been guarded. Maybe they were looking for Theo and they had taken them both. But with or without them, she had to stay strong for her baby. She had agreed to stay in there because she feared for the little thing, but she still was Pansy fucking Parkinson by Salazar! She’d find another plan, and she’d stay strong; it was in her DNA.

If he hadn’t come back by the morning, she’ll stocktake their food and supplies and keep waiting as long as she could. Thereafter she’ll hide in a convent and finds out a way to rent an owl to reach for Neville. Then, and if he doesn’t throw her away, he’ll help her fight for them and get them out of Azkaban.

Yes, that was a good plan; a good backup plan; because Blaise was coming back.

He was coming back.

 ***

Harry woke up to the sound of Hermione’s chuckle. He had fallen asleep on the couch with Ron, again. That was becoming to feel like an old habit. Ron’s thoughts were too loud at night, preventing sleep to release him from their reality; and he hadn’t stop making nightmares since he went back from the dead. They ended up wandering in the Burrow at ungodly hours before finally sitting back down on the couch, figuring out they were no point in keeping pretending. Dusk didn’t felt like a blessing for them as it did for Hermione. But dawn did. Dawn was when he’d wake up to a snoring Ron and realise he had taken his glasses off before they fell to the floor and covered him so he won’t get cold. Dawn was when he would take his cover off, and put them on Ron, so he could get warm before waking up. Dawn was when he felt the happiest to still be alive.    

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice croaking, as he rest his chin on the back of the sofa, looking toward the form of his best friend walking down the stairs.

“Seamus.” Dean answered, coming behind her. “He bet he could make something explode during breakfast and Hermione bet he couldn’t wait until then.

-And I win! He blew up his toothpaste, Harry! His toothpaste!”

 Entering their shared bathroom, Harry couldn’t help but wonder how did his friend ended up being a magical TNT detonator: there was dentifrice up to the ceiling.

“You should’ve seen Seamus’s face.” Neville smiled awkwardly behind him. “Not only did he burst his own, but ours too! And he doesn’t even know how! I swear he’s gonna blow up the castle someday!

-He kinda already has.

-Yeah, right. Talking about, I- I wanted to thank you, for yesterday. For understanding.

-Would you, would you like to tell me more about her? How you met and how she was? Cause it feels like I don’t know this girl you fell for, and. I mean, if she’s important for you, then she’s for me.”

 “As I told you, we met in detention.” Neville began to recount as they walked toward the lake. “At first I didn’t wanted to talk to her but … Filch locked us up for six hours so … we began to talk.

 ***

“You ain’t catching me Longbottom!” she shouted, five stairs ahead. “You’re too slow!

-You’re defying me?

-Only stating the obvious!”

Neville shook his head in disbelief: he really was chasing Pansy Parkinson down, racing to the boathouse. And he was enjoying it. His heart was beating fast and he couldn’t stop smiling. Somehow he’d felt for her. He couldn’t tell if he fell for her bravery as she stood for first years or if it was her eyes sparkling with mischiefs when she looked at him. Maybe it was the way she laughs, bright and loud, unashamed to still feel joy or the way she walked, chin up and deadly glares to those who insult her and her friends. Falling for her hadn’t meant being blind or forgetful of their shared past, it had meant caring enough for her to open up and reveal who she really was behind the mask.

“Got you!” she smirked as she grabbed him by his robe, pulling him close.

“Yeah, you got me.” He smiled back, leaning toward her. Her smell had the power to shut down his brain, just as much as her red lips.

“You know, no one ever goes into the boathouse.

-Yeah?

-Yeah. So you can kiss me.

-Do you want to?

-Yes.” She answered, closing her eyes as she felt Neville’s lips on hers.

 Falling for him has been easy, but admitting it hasn’t. Neville wasn’t supposed to be her type. She always had crushes on people like Draco, Hermione or even Ginny; strong people who knew what they wanted and were able to fight for it. She hadn’t planned Neville was one of them. He had grown into a man far different from the little boy she thought he was, and it was he delight to discover him, she had to admit. His bravery and obstinacy toward a better world has been a surprise for her who had never given him a second thought, but his kindness and candor weren’t, and she was glad to realise he hadn’t lost them on the way.

 “Maybe you could kiss me again?” she whispered as Neville broke their kiss. “If you wanted to…

-I’d love to.” He grinned, taking her hand. “And maybe we could be more than friends…

-Like best friends?” she asked, playfully.

The glitters in her gaze were back, and Neville felt his heart melt in his chest. “Like lovers.” He corrected, wondering where his fearlessness came from.

“I’d like it.” she said, her eyes in his. She wasn’t smiling anymore, but he couldn’t see it, as he was mesmerised by something in her iris. “If you promise not to fry my brain.

-Only if you don’t break my heart.”

 ***

 Christmas was coming. The twelves Christmas trees glowed in the halls as garlands glittered in every common room. The Castle was literally sparkling from inside out. But sitting in front of the hearth, a wreath in her laps, Pansy felt empty. The burst of joy usually inhabiting her wasn’t there; for the first time since kindergarden, she wasn’t going to spend Christmas Eve at Malfoy Manor.

Sitting in the middle of her common room, she could only feel the emptiness inside her. Draco hadn’t come back in September and his absence seemed to fill the air, now more than before. He had stopped sending her letters since mid-October and she couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with the rumours she heard in the late whispered talks saying that the Dark Lord was living with them.

“Pans, you comin? McGonnagal’s not gonna wait forever.”

  The December’s trip to Hogsmeade has always been her favourite; snow battles, Christmas shopping, Honey Dukes and Daphne’s atrocious seasonal jumpers were like inevitable glimpse of Heaven in her eyes. Saying that Pansy Parkinson loved winter would only be an understatement; she practically lived for it. But when her friends started throwing snowballs at each other she slowed down, creating space between them. When Theo and Blaise decided to make a halt in Tomes and Scrolls, she followed Daphne around, heartlessly.

“Are you alright sweetie?” the blond finally asked as they passed a choir. “You’re surprisingly silent. And distant.

-I’m just not in the mood. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to ruin your day out.

-You’re not ruining anything; I’m just worried.

-You don’t have to. I’ll meet you guys later at the Three Broomsticks if that’s okay? I’d like to stay alone a little bit.

-You know you can talk to me, right?

-Don’t worry, ‘kay? I’ll meet you there.

-Pinkie promise?

-Whatever you want.” She shook her head, offering her finger to her friend. “I can’t believe you still believe in this.

-But I do. I’ll be in there, if you change your mind.” She added, pointing toward a Christmas charms shop across the street.

 In other circumstances, she would have gladly crossed the street with her friend. And she’d probably have deal with her best friend absence by buying him one of those Christmas tree decorations he loved so much.  But in those circumstances, it was too must to ask. So she turned her heels and began to walk away from the village, toward the little hill overlooking the Shrieking Shack. And there she was, looking at the odd house from afar when a familiar voice called her name. She didn’t had to turn away to know Neville was coming closer, she could hear his footstep on the fresh snow.

“Hey… Are you okay?” he queried as he stood beside her.

  You know, at first I was impress by her attitude. We were all slowly losing our composure, finally understanding what was really happening at Hogwarts, between the absence of all muggleborn and half the half-blood, the punishments of the Carrows, Filch’s adoration for Ombrage old teaching methods and the curriculum itself. I thought my world was tumbling down. But there she was, proud and reckless, spelling and hexing, standing up to us, as if she was born for it. Yes, I was more than impress. I was heels over head before the first snow. And only then did she let me get to know her more… deeply. She opened up and showed me her cracks, and I couldn’t but love her more at how strong she was for standing up when her base was all flickering. For months she’s tortured herself for having Death Eaters children as friends. Only the Greengrass girl wasn’t one. And I know what you must be thinking Harry, birds of a feather flock together, but it was terrorising her. For nights she couldn’t sleep, overthinking about it. Maybe she was petty, and maybe she sometimes acted out of “cruelty”, I would stay stupidity, but she never believed in all that pureblood superiority bullshit. She’s been raised to believe in certain things and she was only presented to other children raised to believe in those same things, but she finally chose to question all of it, because it never fully made sense for her. For her it was as if someone had just ripped off her eyelids. She’s been taught not to see any of it, and suddenly, it was everywhere. She was torn apart between her love for her family and friends and what she was discovering about them, wondering if she could still love them, wondering if she should cut those ties or try to rip off their eyelids. She was constantly feeling like a failure, feeling fake. I’m not trying to make you pity her, I just want you to know she has always been far more than what she made herself appears to be. She needed people to believe she was… how should I say it? Complete? Solid? I don’t know. But she also had her cracks, and she kept them hidden for months. And I’m not saying … She needs time to trust people, and until she trusts them, she won’t let them see her. It’s not a mask, it’s an armour. She’s protecting herself. And she let me in. She opened up to me and let me question her raising and beliefs. And I didn’t find anything awful.

***

“Neville! Neville hurry up! It’s Seamus!”

The Room of Requirement suddenly felt too small as Ginny took him by the arm, running toward the door. Around them, the DA fell quiet as students stopped in their practise, anticipating the worst as they took their leader’s distress in. Running up the stairs, Neville couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. He knew the path, but his brain didn’t want him to realise he was rushing to the hospital wing. Yet, that was where they were heading.

“What happened?” he finally urged as they slow down, taking in the sight of the closed curtain bed.

“The Carrows. Parkinson found him unconscious on the third floor; said it was the Carrows. I rather warn you, it’s not pretty.”

Ginny hadn’t lie. Seamus was everything except pretty, barely recognisable. His face was tumefied and his eyes were swollen too, purple from the blood within them. His lip was cut and bruises were already forming by his left cheekbone, down to his chin. His right was hidden behind a bandage coming from the upper part of his head.

“They haven’t. Tell me they haven’t done that.” He whispered, coming closer to the bed. Now wasn’t the time for letting his anger out. Luna was shaking in a chair across the bed, studying carefully the potions in the bedtable.

“He has some broken ribs too. But Madam Pomfrey says he’s gonna be okay.” Ginny informed him, as she placed a hand above the covers, where Seamus hand probably was. “But he still hasn’t wake up.”

“He’s gonna be okay. He’s strong. He’s gonna be okay.” He tried to convince himself as a distant moan escape his friend’s lips.

“D-Dean..

-Seamus? Seamus, you’re safe. You’re at the hospital wing. You’re safe, Seamus. We’re here. Ok?” Luna murmured, gently stroking his hair as he feebly wailed his lover name again and again.

“I’m gonna kill them. I’m gonna kill them!” Neville swore, gritted teeth, as he stormed out of the room, quickly followed by the redhead girl. “I’m gonna kill them and make them pay for it.

-And then, what? You kill them, and then, what?  You run to Abelforth? The gardens are full of death eaters and dementors! You’d be dead before midnight! Or worse. Is that really what you want? We’re gonna have our revenge, I promise you.

-And until then, we’re gonna sit down and wait? We’re gonna let the Carrows terrorize and torture our schoolmates? Our friends?

-We’ll keep training. We’ll keep training, and when the time comes, we’ll be ready to finally fight back.

-I can’t.

-You have no choice, Nev. We’re in a state of war. War! You can’t just act on impulse! You have to focus on the bigger picture. We have to keep Hogwarts until Harry comes back.

You can’t just give us up.

-I’m not.

-Then fucking act like it!” she roared before leaving him alone in the middle of the corridor.

    “How’s Seamus?” Pansy finally asked, nestled against her boyfriend in their secret alcove. He had barely spoken since he came out of the Hospital Wing a few hours ago. His friend was barely breathing when she found him earlier that day; she could barely imagine what he must be feeling.

“Madam Pomfrey says he’s gonna be okay… but you saw him, right? You know how bad it looks like.

-I’m sorry. I wish I could have done something.

-It’s killing me. I wish I could do something. I wish I could…

-He’s gonna be okay, love.

-You don’t understand.” He murmured to her temple, matter-of-factly. “No one’s gonna be okay. We’re supposed to keep Hogwarts until Harry comes back. Then, we’ll fight to death. Thus I don’t see how anyone could be okay.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Look at me. Neville, I said look at me. People die every day out there. People die. But Seamus isn’t going to. It was a close call, but he will make it, and someday, he’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay because you’re gonna keep going. I know you, you’re not going to sit, hide somewhere and wait for the Mighty Saviour to come back. You’re going to keep standing up against the Carrows, maybe more now than ever. You’re going to keep standing up for the weaker, for those who are afraid, those who lay in hospital beds. You aren’t doing nothing. You weren’t there when Seamus got attacked, but it doesn’t mean you can’t be there for someone else, honey. It isn’t a fair fight, but I know you still in, right? And as long as you keep going, I’d bet on you. Now tell me, Neville, who are you betting on?

-I’m betting on you.

-I’m being serious here, darling.” She tried to repress a smile as he took off an eyelash from her cheek, keeping his hand against her skin.

“And I am, too. I want you to join the DA.

-I can’t.

-Everyone knows we’re fighting for the same side. I’m sure they’d take you in.

-I really can’t. I can fight against the Carrow; but

-Then would you train with me? Would you fight with me?

-Hell I’ll do. I’ll fight with you, Neville Longbottom. Until the very end.”

  ***

“What are you waiting for? Someone grab him.” Pansy’s words resonated in the sudden silence of the Great Hall, making Ginny rush toward Harry, shielding him behind her. Soon, every member of the Orders and DA were standing in front of him or flanked by his side, wand out. Harry couldn’t be taken to Voldemort, and they wouldn’t let anyone do so; even if that meant hurting a fellow student.

 “Students out of bed! Students in the corridors!” Filch yelled as he burst breathless into the hall.

“They’re supposed to be out of bed, you blithering idiot!” Professor McGonnagal snapped, as the caretaker, realising his mistake, apologized flatly. “As it happens, Mr Filch, your arrival is most opportune. If you would, I would like you to lead Miss Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin House from the Hall.

-Where exactly is it I’ll be leading them to, ma’am?

-The dungeons will do.” she concluded, taking her attention back to Harry. “I presume you have a reason for returning, Potter. What is it you need?

-Time, professor. As much as you can get me.

-Do what you have to do. I’ll secure the castle. Potter …” She called again, slightly unsure on what was left to say. “It’s good to see you.

-It’s good to see you too, professor.” He said back, already on his way out. “Hold on the fort Neville!”

 Neville nodded. He knew what he had to do. Theày had made so many plans during the last three months that he didn’t have to consult Ginny before exposing them to the Order. He knew that she was agreeing with him and would have proposed the same tactic; but he also knew she was too distracted to take the lead right now. Harry was back. After months of wandering, his presence filled the castle.

Furthermore, organizing their defence and getting ready to fight for his life seemed to mute Pansy’s voice still echoing inside his head.

 “Pansy, come here.” Vince murmured, already sneaking out from the group led by Filch. “Draco will need us. They will need us.” His tone was barely a whisper as he couldn’t refrain his enthusiasm. He was metamorphosed, waiting for the Dark Wizard to take the school like a child waits for Christmas.

“I’m staying in the dungeon. And you probably should too. If Filch found you wandering

-He ain’t gonna see us! The Dark Lord is coming Pansy! The Dark Lord! No one will even see us! This is it, the time has come!

-I’m staying there. Blaise! Blaise!” she called out loudly, hoping to get scolded by the old man in the process, the other boy being ten foot away.

“What’s wrong with you Pans? Haven’t been noticed enough already?” he chided her, going upstream.

“Tell him we have to stay in the dungeon with the others!” she pleaded quietly.

“I’m not stayin’ in the dungeon! My place is in the battlefield! With my father and my own!

-Oh come on, Crabbe. You’re more likely to kill You-Know-Who by inadvertence. We’ll watch for you down there.

-I am not going to the dungeon! Aren’t you gonna fight for the Dark Lord?! Great Salazar, you aren’t going to, are you? You’re gonna stay hidden and wait for a side to lose. And when you’ll get out of your stash, you’ll try to get in the winner’s good graces. I pity you.” He spat, suddenly pouting like first year Draco.

“You can take you pity up your arse, for what I care. Come on, Pans, let gets to the dungeon before someone notice we’re missing.” He gave up, shaking his head before taking his friend by the hand. “I’m not gonna die for those fuckers” he muttered, walking them away.

“And Draco? What are you doing of Draco?” Vicent yelled. “If we lose, he’s gonna die tonight!”

 “Draco’s not gonna die, he’s not gonna die.” Blaise promised to a curled up Pansy. The room felt too small. On every faces, she could read the same anxiety she felt inside her, gnawing her. Theodore was on the other side of the room, his forehead against the stone wall. His father was probably somewhere at the borders, waiting for You-Know-Who’s orders. Locking them up in the dungeon, she’d avoided him the painful idea to face his dad, and die by his hand.

She knew Blaise was talking to her, she could feel his breath on her cheek, but she couldn’t hear him. If You-Know-Who lose tonight, Draco would… but even if he won, who knew what he’d have send him to beforehand. Blocking her breath, she tried to steady herself, focusing on everything else. She couldn’t do anything to save her friend, not at the cost of her baby life. A baby whose father was currently getting ready to fight upstairs. A baby whose father was soon going to mate his fate, too.

As Neville’s body lay lifeless in her mind, she started crying, trying her best at repressing the screams coming from her gut. She was going to lose her mind.

“Pansy! Pansy!” Blaise whispered hardly against her ear, trying to hold her as tight as could be as she kept biting her hand. “Pansy breathe!”

  They won. But where was the overwhelming joy he had imagined feeling? He was sitting alone in a bench, and couldn’t find any solace in his surroundings. The castle was destroyed. Families were destroyed. People had died tonight. Many people. Too many. As Luna came, taking the place beside him, he smiled at her. In another universe, her presence would have been enough to bring him out of the chaos. But not in this one. Here, he’d have need another girl. A girl who had just betrayed him.

 ***

It was almost two in the morning when the wooden door creaked loudly. Senses suddenly on alert, she grabbed her wand, pointing it toward the bedroom door.

“Pans?” a familiar voice called her from the living room. Barely raised, she let herself fall back in the mattress as she called him back, almost wailing, as tears of relief started rolling down her cheeks. He was back. He was back and he was alive. “Blaise!” she called, again, urging him to her as he burst through the doorframe.

“I’m here, I’m here. I’m right here.” He whispered, embracing her. “Theo’s here too.

-I thought, I thought they had

-Shht, it’s okay. It’s over, now. I’m sorry things didn’t go as planned.

-Can I come in?” Theo asked from behind the curtain “Everyone’s decent?”

The morning sun found them sleeping, mix of limbs half on the mattress, half on the floor. Blaise had taken feathers in the sheets while Theo hadn’t removed his blood stained shirt, but for one more hour, it would stay unsaid, inexistent.  

They had fallen asleep squeezed up against each other after wordlessly agreeing on doing the talking later. Theo had practically collapsed from exhaustion as his brain understood he was finally somewhere safe. The week has been hard. They could allow themselves a break. They could pretend everything was fine for the rest of the night.

 Theo woke up last.  For the first time in a week, he stayed a little bit longer under the cover, appreciating the sunrays and the quiet laughter of his friends on the other room. Hiding his face in his hand, he sighed happily. He was safe and sound, and above all, he wasn’t alone anymore. Obviously the shack was spartian. He had had a small glimpse of it as he got in but in the cruel light of reality, it was even worse. The bedroom wasn’t empty; the two mattresses lying on the floor were all it could contains. There wasn’t any drawer or shelf, only a traveling bag full of neatly fold clothes, ready to get picked up at any time. Opening the curtain separating the two rooms he realised the door was in fact missing. On the so called living room, Pansy and Blaise were sitting on buckets, eating their breakfast on a rickety table. Their food was stored against the wall where a chair was used as a shelf.

“You woke up!” Pansy smiled at him, pushing a bucket toward him. “If the gentleman wants to take a seat…

-We didn’t really know where to go.” Blaise shrugged as his friend tried the balance of his seat.

“It’s fine, okay? I mean, as long as you have toilets.

-That door.” she pointed the only other door. “But don’t expect a shower.

-As if I remembered what a shower is.

-When did you leave your house?

-I didn’t really get back, after… after…” he forfeited with a wave of the hand. “I got your letter by chance. I hadn’t meant to get back home, but as they had just taken father... I packed my things, took some galleons… I’ve been wandering in muggle London since we left Hogwarts… A roof is everything I’ve been praying for, Blaise. I know you guys are already on thin ice, I know how hazardous it is for you to shelter me. I am thankful. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.  

-I know, I’m sorry.

-What about you Pansy? Since we left Hogwarts?

-I’ve stayed at the Manor until the Aurors came in. Then I Apparated at Blaise’s. He took his bags and you know the rest of the story.

-So you saw Draco? Where is he?

-I don’t know.” She avowed, biting her lip.  “I... they came at night, and Draco… he said he couldn’t come with me.

-They’ve been taken to Azkaban.” Blaise voiced out for the first time. “Same night as your old man. Front page cover in every magazine.

-You never told me!” Pansy moaned, tears already filling her eyes.

“How could I’ve? You stayed fucking silent for three days Pans! You were barely functioning, I couldn’t tell you!

-He’s my bestfriend! I needed to know!

-You knew! The fucking Aurors bursted into his house in the middle of the fucking night by Salazar! you couldn’t have imagined they were taking him to the ball? The Death Eaters has always rot in Azkaban Pansy! Azkaban!

-Shut up! Stop it!” she screamed, trying to cover his words as he rose from his bucket.

“Oh, and flash new: Draco is a fucking Death Eater!” he yelled before slamming the door behind him.

 “You okay?” Theo tried as he finally found Blaise in the middle of the wood.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. It’s just… I lose my temper. We… we had never talked about Draco before.

-Are you mad at her for leaving him behind?” he asked softly, still making him look away abruptly. “You feel like she ran without him…” he added, resting a tentative hand on his arm.

“She should have forced him!” he suddenly shouted, moving away. “Narcissa would have made up a lie to cover his absence, it could have worked! But she Apparated without him! And she dares! He! He’s in Azkaban for Merlin sake! In Azkaban!

-Blaise …” he whispered, making a step forward.

“It’s over!” he broke down, falling to his knees. “He’s never going to get out of there. No one ever gets out of there.”

  ***

“I think I’d like to know her.” Harry acknowledged as Neville stopped declaiming his love for Pansy Parkinson. There was no use in pretending that he wasn’t heels over head for the Slytherin girl, neither was some in pestering against the girl he once knew; she apparently wasn’t anymore. “Would you mind introducing me to her, someday? I mean, if you’re both okay with it of course.

-You really do?

-I hear you talk about the girl of your life for half an hour, Nev.” He smiled, fondly. “What kind of horrible friend would I be if I didn’t want to. I really want to get to know her for who she is now.

-Harry...” he sighted, obviously relief. “Thank you. It- It means so much for me.

-You’re welcome, really.” He answered, scratching his neck, uneased by his friend sudden warmness. Seemingly taken by the same feeling, Neville suddenly started picking his books for his daily classes before heading toward the door.

 “Harry?” he abruptly asked, stopping short in the middle of the corridor. “Do you think I could tell the others? I mean, do you think they would listen, too? I want them to know her; I want all of you to. And when the baby’s here… I want you guys to be part of her life. But if they don’t accept Pansy... I won’t know what to do …

-Hermione’s logical, family comes first for Ron, Dean testified at Malfoy’s trial and Seamus’s a big ball of fluffiness lately. I think they’d be okay with it. And if they aren’t, I’ll hex them.

-I’m being serious here.

-And I am, too. We’re more than just roommates or friends; we’re a family. We’ll stand with you.”  

 ***

Blaise came back to the shack when dusk started to slowly fade the outdoor world. Laying down on one of the mattress, Theo seemed fast asleep, Pansy absentmindedly playing with his hair.

“Hi.” He greeted quietly, closing the door as carefully as possible as Pansy crossed the few meters between them, taking a bucket to sit on. “Still worn out?” he asked, nodding toward the form on the bed.

“Seems like. Told me about his week, how he slept on streets when he could sleep at all. I gave him your clothes, by the way. I cleansed his.

-Thanks.

-It was nothing a tergeo couldn’t deal with, actually. It’s quite an efficient spell when it comes to blood.

-Cool.” He guessed, scanning their food stock. “I’ll cook dinner. Would you wake him up in a bit?

-Leaving Draco behind, it broke my heart, you know. But he- he’d never planned on running with me. Or running at all.

-I wouldn’t have left without him. I’d stayed by his side until we both could be safe.” He countered calmly, weighting the pro and con of eating the spinach tonight.  

“Blaise, please. He decided to get back to the Manor. He spent days there, waiting for the Aurors burst-in. He tidied up his room and burned things down. He was perfectly aware of the outgoing.

-You’re telling me he willingly waited for an Azkaban cell?

-I- I don’t know. But I know he did wait for the Aurors. I’m sorry Blaise but he didn’t fight. His parents called him downstairs and when I left, he was walking toward the door. He gave himself in.

-I can’t believe you.

-But you’ll have to! You can deny it as much as you want it will still be the one and only truth. He never planned on running away. Never.

-But it makes no sense!

-Maybe but that’s what happened. I’m sorry, Blaise. I’d have liked it to be otherwise… but he chose to stay.

-May I say something?” Theo interrupted, walking over them. “I saw him at the Manor, during winter break. Father had… meetings… there. It was already too much for him to bear, it was eating him from inside. He took the Mark, he … Who knows what he was ordered to do? Who knows what he did and witness? I don’t, but I can guess… He hated it, being a Death Eater, but that doesn’t undo the fact that he was one. And I think that’s why he gave himself in; he knew that what he did was wrong so he did what he thought was right. I think he tried to pay the price...”

Letting Theo’s words sink in, they stood in silence for a while. His pitch made sense. It was terrific in a way, but it made sense.

“If you guys are ready, I think it’s time to figure out how we can help him now.” Theo directed.

A few accio later, they were sitting around the table, feathers ready to plan everything up.

“Firstly, I think we need to know if we’re really looking for.

-Really, mate? We spent the last day running away from Aurors trying to find you.

-But as you aren’t Death Eater children, or Death Eater, or even Allies of the Dar- of Voldemort, we have to be sure about it.  And if one or both of you are wanted, we can’t just guess for what crimes. We can’t plan anything up without a foreseen of which potential penalties you could incur if we get caught.

-Don’t get me wrong, I get the idea; I just don’t think we’ll find a list in a muggle newspaper. We’ll have to go back to the Wizarding World, and I think it’s too risky.

-Maybe, maybe we can ask Neville.” Pansy proposed, avoiding their astonished gaze. She clenched her fists under the table, trying to stop her hands from shaking this much.

“Neville? Like in Neville Longbottom?” Blaise asked first.

“Indeed.

-And why would he help us? He hates us!” Theo asked second, hands moving in disbelief.

“I dated him. Back in Hogwarts.” She blurted out, making them both curse in surprise. “He’s not the weak-minded we thought he was, you know. He’s clumsy, that’s undeniable, but he’s brave too and he’s got a fierceness you’d be jealous from.

-Are we still talking about Neville Longbottom?” Blaise inquired, earning a death glare from the other side of the table and a kick from beside. “Just asking! So, you dated him.

-That’s what I just told you, yes.

-And since you broke his heart, he’s going to gently give us what we want. Seriously Pans’, I’m not planning for a death trap.

-He’s not going to report us!

-Can you guarantee it?” Theo requested, trying to stay focused on the task.

“Of course I can! I’ll talk to him, and he’ll help us.”

  “Pansy, you’re sleeping?” Blaise whispered in the middle of the night.

“What’s wrong?

-Neville, did you love him?

-Does it matter?

-If you did, yes. I mean, maybe, yes.

-I still love him.

Blaise?” she asked after a few second of silence.

“Yes?

-Is it a problem?

-You love a moron; it’s your problem, not mine.

-Dickhead.” She smiled, turning to her side, hoping to fall asleep despite the fast beating of her heart.

 “Pansy?

-Something to ask about Neville again?

-When did you date him?

-From November to last April.

-How could I never notice?

-We hide it to everyone. We weren’t sure to be understood, even less tolerated. I being Draco’s bestie and he, Harry’s.

-Romeo and Juliet die in the end, you know.

-Who?

-Romeo and Juliet. It’s a muggle theatre piece.

-What?

-Nott and Malfoy.

-Oh. We’re not gonna die. No one is gonna die.

-I hope so.”

 “Blaise?” she called, in turn. “Are you asleep?

-Not anymore. What’s wrong?

-You really don’t mind, about Neville and me?

-I really don’t mind.

-Cool.

-And, Blaise?” she murmured, laying closer to him.

“I really want to sleep Pans.

-I’ve got something to tell you.

-‘M all ears.

-I’m pregnant.

-You’re what?” he asked urgently, suddenly sitting.

“I’m pregnant.” She repeated kindly, sitting up too.

“You’re… you’re pregnant.” He echoed quietly as Pansy slowly put his hand on her belly.

“I am. Neville doesn’t know yet, but even if he doesn’t want the child, I do.

-We’re gonna raise a baby in our shack then.

-Blaise?

-A death eater for godfather. Nott as home teacher; I’ll be the cool uncle. It can work out.” He kept mumbling under his friend amused glaze.

“You’re the pervert uncle. I’ll be the cool one.” Theo corrected, his voice smothered in sleep.

***

Like every Friday night since the start of the school year, Harry was sitting in his dorm with his closest friends, sharing jokes and butterbeers. Ron was the exception, though. Lying on his belly, he was trying to finish his DADA essay due for the day before as Dean doodled encouragement on his drafts. The sooner he would be done, the sooner they’d be able to sneak out of the castle to the Quidditch pitch for a midnight game. The official Gryffindor team has asked him to keep playing as their seeker, but he had politely declined the offer after their first game. He couldn’t fly in the red colours; not anymore; not without his friends flying by his side. The win wasn’t worth the emptiness he felt above the grounds. Still, Harry came to their trainings, cheering and mocking whenever needed. But he missed the adrenaline, diving to the ground and the mesmerizing fly of the Snitch. Until the day Ron suggest a quick match after one of his trainings. Flying around chasing each other, they soon found out it was far more entertaining to wait for the sun to go down. Tonight they’d planned a 3 vs 3, chaser, keeper, seeker; Neville unexpectedly agreeing on playing Chaser, and if Ron hurried up, the odds were on their favour. On the Marauder's Map, Filch and Mrs Norris had begun their tour in the dungeon.

“Will you be done in thirty minutes?” he asked his friend, accustomed to their routine. In thirty minutes, they’d be climbing the Ravenclaw tower, leaving them free to walk out in the corridors.

“How look did it took you to do your essay?

-Hours.

-So how could I be done in thirty minutes? Plus Dean’s drawings are messing up my answers.” He growled as an ink knight piss on his third paragraph, making the room burst from laugher. “Can’t you just snog Seamus for Merlin tits?

-I don’t just snog Seamus.” He countered, holding his ribs. Hermione had add a friend beside the knight, and he was currently handing him some butterbeers, dropping half of their content on the parchments.

“Come on! I’ll never be done with it!

-Then hurry up! Who knows what they’ll do when they got drunk!” Harry guffawed, not so sure that the Quidditch game was still going to be the highlight of his day.

“What? No! Come on, Dean, erase them!

-Do you mean they don’t they deserve a little bit of fun?” he asked, hovering his feather above the parchment, all malice and pride.

“How do you fuck a knight in shining armour?” Seamus suddenly wondered out loud, making Ron turn red at the thought of having drawings shagging on his essay.

“You pervert! Come on Harry, let’s get to the Quidditch pitch.” Ron forfeited, standing up.

“I think I wanna stay there. See how it goes.

-Harry, no…

-Stop playing the virgin, Weasley. We all know you aren’t anymore.” Seamus teased, throwing a pillow at him. “Or maybe it’s disturbing you because they’re two guys?

-Who said the knight was a guy?” Hermione retorted, taking it suddenly more seriously.

“It could be a fucking hippogriff for what I care! I just don’t want it on my essay! Draw porn elsewhere!

-You could draw porn on me.

-Seamus!” they yelled in harmony, watching hilarious their friend taking down his shirt in the unsexyest way ever.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Neville stated, matter-of-factly.

On the bed, Dean let his ink dripped on Seamus’s skin. “What are you on about, mate?” he asked for everyone.

With a quick glance toward a nodding Harry, Neville answered in a breath. “I’m leaving Hogwarts on the 24th.”

“Shut up, please.” Harry ordered politely, cutting his friends’s thousand questions mumbling. “Let him talk.

-Thanks, Harry.”

As the dorm felt silence, Neville started telling them the same story he told Harry a few days before.

The story of a boy who fell in love with a girl he wasn’t supposed to like and how they were now going to have a baby girl, named Alyssa Longbottom.    

  ***

Sitting in the silence of his old bedroom, Neville couldn’t stop rehashing the same thoughts over and over again.

She’d promised him. He hadn’t break her heart, she had no right to fry his brain.

She had no right to break his heart.

But in the darkness of his old bedroom, it seems pretty clear that she didn’t care about it. She’s done both. She switched side. And still, he meant every word he said to her.

 Burying his face in his pillow, he let out a low growl before hitting the mattress with all his strength. He needed the anger. He craved for rage to storm him up. He couldn’t let his heart drove him crazy. He couldn’t; but yet.

He thought he knew her. And then, in a snap of her fingers, everything had turned terribly wrong, leaving him replaying the last months in his head. He had to see what he hadn’t back then, he had to find out the moment she snapped. Cause it had to be somewhere. And he had to find it. Cause if he didn’t… Then the little voices in his head could only be right. It would mean it had all been a lie, a masquerade against the resistance inside the castle. But they had to be wrong. They had to; he couldn’t handle it if his best memories were all faked. The sparks in her eyes, the happiness in her laugh, the warmth of their embrace, could it all has been pretended? Had he only saw his own feeling in her iris? Has he been the only one falling? Could he been the only one shattered now?

 He had survived the Carrow and Voldemort himself. He had postponed death; to this.

 Neville took the pillow and threw it to the window.

He knew it was called a heart break; yet every inch of his body ached.

 ***

“Nev, can we talk? In private.” Seamus added to the bunch of first years circling him. Neville wasn’t as halloed as the sacrosanct Boy Who Lived Twice, but sorting Godric Gryffindor’s sword in the middle of the battlefield was enough to be known and respect by all.

“About last night?

-Yes. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” he started, vaguely moving his hands as they both perfectly knew what he meant. When Neville had told them about Pansy and Alyssa, he had simply rose to his feet and left the dorm without a word. Dean had tried to call him back in, in vain. “I shouldn’t have left. It’s just… I don’t understand. I simply don’t understand.” He repeated, slowly, weighting his every word. “Yes, she’s carrying your child, but then? She betrayed us, she betrayed you and then you are, ready to give up your future to her. She betrayed you when it matter the most, Nev. When it matter the most. I’m- I’m just afraid for you. It’s so easy to believe when you love someone; it’s so easy to be fooled. I don’t want you to make the biggest mistake of your life because she made you think it was the only right thing to do. She doesn’t deserve you, she doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, and she- she just doesn’t deserve your future.

-Are we still talking about me?” he softly asked as Seamus eyes had slowly become red.

“Of course we are! You’re my friend! We’ve been through hell lately, and I know how- how love sometimes- I… Last year, when Dean was gone, when… when the Carrow… I remember how desperate I was for his presence. I just don’t want you to- to commit the biggest mistake of your life because you feel broken inside, okay? It just, I want you to be safe, and happy, with the good girl. And I’m afraid Pansy’s not. She betrayed you once, who can tell she won’t do it again?

-She didn’t betray me, Shay. She followed a stupid plan. She knew no one would grab Harry, she just wanted to be out of the battlefield. She wanted our baby to be somewhere safe.

-Neville… Do you know what it looks like? A fucking rescue pirouette.

-Too pretty to be true, I know. For two weeks I thought she had switch sides. Two weeks during which I’ve been asking myself what capital information I’ve been given her, which lives I took with my stupid trust in her. And then, she was suddenly at my doorstep, begging me to let her in. It was raining, she was freezing, I let her in and she told me everything I wanted. Scalded cat fears cold water, those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends blabla. How could I believed her? But it made sense, you know. It made more sense than her sudden betrayal. I knew within me it was true. And then, when she submitted herself to the Aurors, she took Veritaserum. And she told them the exact same things she told me before. You don’t have to worry about it, about me. I understand, and it means a lot to me, but we’ll be okay. I know I can trust her, and she knows she can trust me, too. Okay, Seamus? I’m not being fooled around.

-If you say so.

-Harry’s gonna meet her, and even if he can be pretty oblivious, he always know when something wicked our way come. Okay?

-Okay.

-Okay.” It somehow felt like a promise as Neville took a step forward and hug his friend tight. They were all going to be okay, he knew it.

  Standing before the chimney in the middle of the Headmistress office, Neville couldn’t help but turn around to look at his friends a last time. It wasn’t a farewell, only a goodbye, but they were red eyed.

Dawn had found them all awake, lying on the floor of their common room as they made promises they hoped none of them would break. The father-to-be didn’t know it yet, but hidden in his luggage were five little presents. Five little reminders than wherever he was, he would still have a home wherever they’ll be.  

[lookupatthesky]

2018 Goals - August

WINTER IS COMING, TUMBLR! It felt like my kid went back to school and Mother Nature decided that it was Time for temperatures to drop. I am fine with this. I had a tremendous summer that I enjoyed a lot! And in the winter I have someone who shovels for me, while in the summer I need to mow the lawn all on my own, hah.

Yearly goals are: Cook one new recipe a month. I made a new kind of quinoa bowl yesterday? Oh, and some easy chicken fajitas in the beginning of the month. 

Do something every week with friends or alone (no boyfriends or people I’m hooking up with) to strengthen friendships and become more emotionally independant. (This goal is worded in such a long way.) Check, though almost all of it was family time. I lived at my mom’s for a couple of days, with a cousin and my aunt, then I lived at my (other) cousin’s for a week. I did a LOT of things with just Marianne. I saw the choir people and my Limoilou friends, and I met an author who I’ve read for years and who now lives in an RV - I invited her to stay in my driveway and she did! It was pretty great. (Check her out!) Not as stunningly social as other months, but I feel good about it anyway. Read 111 books. 62/111. 12 books behind schedule, a dire state of things. I am stuck in a book that I only so-so enjoy. I think things will pick up but I might have to be more careful? O-or lower the goal.

Watch 12 movies. 10/12! Who’d have thought. We started a big MCU rewatch (or just watch in my case for many of them) and we saw Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk (I fell asleep like ten times during the latter). I also saw To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before (maybe you guessed from this tumblr’s content???!) and The Guernsey Literary and Potatoe Peel Pie Society (was fine). Plus Marianne and I watched The Parent Trap for movie night, which I had actually never seen! Write two yuletide fics and another outside the exchange. No progress. August goals were: Declutter the house. I managed to get the house in a state I liked for the renters, which was nice! There’s still work to do on the declutter front though.

Enjoy my vacation! Check!! It was a really lovely time. It was nice to live with my cousin and to get to know her more, and at the same time we weren’t on top of each other at all (she has a huge house). Marianne and I saw a LOT of super interesting things, most of which I had never visited, even if Montreal is only like three hours from my house. (A glimpse of the week can be found on my instagram if you like such things!) It felt honestly pretty great to be part of the tourist industry in (almost) my own home, haha. Sorry Donald Trump*, no money from me this summer! * I am not actually sorry

September goals are: They are MANY. Actually I managed to just list my usual four, but I had like a dozen things I wanted to do. Back-to-school is getting to me in a very good way!

Declutter bookshelf in office. I think just listing “declutter” as a goal is too vague, and this is the worst part of the house. Just almost all random junk that I’m pretty sure I could toss out, and yet it’s overflowing.

Do a plank every night. Why yes, I am going for the least possible amount of time spent exercising, why do you ask? I just have never ever been able to get to a regular exercise routine that I enjoy, so I feel like if I do the plank for one minute a night, well, at least it’s not zero minute a night. I’m going to do it right beside my bed, on the floor (no mat because unrolling it is the kind of stumbling block that will prevent me from doing it - I know myself, dudes), before I take a shower. IT’S JUST ONE MINUTE. IT’S THE ONLY NON-MOVING EXERCISE I’VE FOUND. I CAN DO THIS. (I mean, hopefully it’ll eventually be two or three minutes.) (I also still walk a lot, don’t worry, I’m not going to die just yet. Probably.)

Read three books from the unread shelf. THE UNREAD SHELF IS SO BAD, GUYS. My mom just sold her house (today, actually!) and she’s been doing a lot of decluttering of her own, and I’ve taken a lot of her books, and whyyyyyyyyyyy Don’t go to the restaurant. I ate out a LOT in August (travel does do that!) and I want to take a break to gain back some control on both my weight and my wallet, plus I want to enjoy it more instead of just having it be regular. The social goal takes precedence to this one though, so maybe it should be “don’t eat out unless you have a very good, limited-time-only reason to do it”, who knows.  Other goals I almost gave myself were: document my life more (I’m trying insta stories, cause it’s easy and funner than my private blog which I abandon all the time), figure out what to put on the walls, cook from the freezer more, catch up on podcasts (but I’m still back in fucking MARCH so that’s pretty much impossible), lose 5-10 pounds, call someone to do the small stuff around the house I can’t be bothered to do, etc., etc., do ALL OF THE THINGS

Happy fall everyone!

[novamm66]

Red Sky in the Morning: Chapter IV

Sorry for the slight delay in getting this one out.  Life got in the way.  Also I am going to be taking a bit of a longer break while I deal with this holiday season and the family drama that always comes with that.

I really hope that you are enjoying this story.  I am finding writing it very exciting and scary all at the same time.

Love you lots.

Kiaya was feeling more herself now that she had some idea of what was immediately in her future.  Everything in the immediate past that was not so good but she would obsess about that later. Cassandra had left after showing her where the supplies were located and pointing her to the tavern for food.  Everyone still whispered and stared everywhere she went, and the woman behind the bar didn’t ask for any payment.  This was good because Kiaya had nothing to pay her with. As she waited to be served, she could feel the eyes of the other patrons on her back and the casual chatter was trying really hard to stay casual.  The tavern was starting to feel much more closed in.  Kiaya watched her hands tighten on the bar edge until she could tell which knuckles had been broken.  The moment the woman returned Kiaya slipped out a side door, bowl and mug in hand.

She pulled the hood of the new-to-her cloak low over her face as she hunched against the back of the building, well out of sight of any passersby on the road. You have been alone a long time.  Kiaya ate as slowly as her starving stomach would allow.  It was still fast enough that she felt sick when she was finished but it settled after a few deep breathes.  As she sipped from her mug, she could hear the villagers and soldiers gossiping about her and the recent events.  I’m in trouble, so much trouble.  Kiaya started to gently rock back and forth trying to block out the doom in her head.

“You won’t be able to hide forever.”

Kiaya hissed and almost leapt out of her skin. “Maker’s balls Varric, don’t you know you can kill someone by doing that?”  Kiaya rubbed her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart.  “And what do you mean hiding?”

“You’re tougher than that,” Varric chuckled, “I saw you slip out here and crouching in the bushes to eat is considered hiding where I come from.  I wanted to see if you want to watch the show?”

“What show?”

“By now Seeker and Nightingale have finished filling in Curly and Ruffles all about your acceptance.  Which means history is about to happen.”  Varric waved his hands grandly.  “Who wouldn’t want to see that?”

Kiaya snorted, “That’s not usually my first instinct.  Fine, let’s go watch history.”

Varric is right.

Kiaya thought as she watched the flurry of activity that was the beginning of the Inquisition.  It was exciting to be here and everyone could feel it.  She could see it in the eyes of villagers, overshadowing their fear of the Breach.  It was in the straight postures of the soldier's shoulders as word spread about what was going on.

And I’m at the centre of this. Terrifying thought.

Kiaya began to wish she had stayed in the bushes behind the tavern.

“This is insane Varric, it’s too big.  I can’t do this.  I can’t, I don’t, I… fuck.”

“Yup, that sounds about right.  Hawke would say ‘fakes it till you makes it’ and it seems to work for her.”

Kiaya dissolved into nervous giggles at this declaration.  The laughter eased the pressure in her chest and helped to clear her thoughts. “Really? The Champion of Kirkwall would say that?”

“Maker only knows why she’s horribly cheesy.  I’ve always had to give her better dialogue in the book.  She always thought she was funny too, would dissolve into giggles just like that.”

Kiaya smiled warmly at the dwarf at her side.  His easy banter had lifted the weight that had started to weigh on her shoulders so that when she saw Cassandra waving her towards the Chantry she didn’t hesitate.  “Here we go. See you, Varric.  And thanks,” Kiaya smiled at the dwarf as she moved towards the doors.  Kiaya could feel her fears returning as she joined the Seeker and headed to the back of the Chantry.  As if it knew, the mark stirred within her hand almost like it was enjoying the panic pounding in her chest.

“Does it trouble you?”  Kiaya jumped when Cassandra spoke.  She had been completely absorbed in the pulsing mark on her hand.

“Yes, no, yes.” Kiaya sighed as she fumbled for an answer.  “It doesn’t hurt exactly at the moment, it does feel strange though.  I wish I knew what it was. Or how I got it.”

“We will find out,” said Cassandra. “What’s important is that you and your mark are now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us the gift of time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed, provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place he thinks. That is not going to be easy to come by.”

Kiaya choked on a laugh and stumbled over her own feet. “You’re telling me. Holy crap sounds like fun.  What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand and have even less control of?”

Cassandra chuckled. “Hold on to that sense of humour.  We are going to need it I feel.”

The doors opened for them and Kiaya crossed the threshold with a grin on her face.

Time was passing too slowly for Cullen as he waited with Josephine and Leliana in the War Room. The rush of the public declaration had drained away as they had started to outline the monumental undertaking they had before them.

Everything was questions and not enough answers.  It was astounding how far rumour and stories could spread in three days.  Maker, there were already requests for the Herald of Andraste before she woke up and they still had no idea if she would help.  And once she had agreed, everything had shot forward like a mabari attack wave.

Whatever I think of her methods, Leliana certainly is efficient at getting things started.

Cullen could feel the throbbing of a headache start to build at the base of his skull and pain was starting to shoot down his neck, back and arms. Maker, please, not now.  Cullen unconsciously began to rub his neck trying to relieve the building pressure.

Everything depends on her.  Cullen’s doubts flared again as he tried to ignore the pain.  He had had three days to process events and he still didn’t know what to make of the mage the villagers were calling the Herald of Andraste.  He wasn’t sure where that had started although he had his suspicions, and he couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad thing.  This woman was a mystery.  What she had done at the Breach site had been kept quiet, amazingly.  However, new magic made Cullen nervous although he wasn’t sure that wasn’t simply leftover distrust.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening to reveal the woman in question and Cassandra, both women looking comfortable and relaxed as they exchanged smiles.  That is certainly a mark in your favour if Cass likes you already.  This was the first time Cullen had really had a chance to look at the woman who had fallen out of the Fade.

She was almost a hand shorter then Cassandra and a full head shorter than him.   Her figure was soft, curves more than angles, wider hips and chest with a narrow waist gave her an hourglass figure and the extra padding on her stomach and backside did not take away from that shape.  

Her cheeks flushed pink when their eyes met and Cullen suddenly realized he was staring and snapped his eyes down to the world map that separated them. He listened while she was introduced to Josephine and when he dared to look up again she was smiling politely as she spoke to Leliana, although her eyes were weary.

He thought he was ready when Cassandra began to introduce him to the mage across the table, but he lost his words the moment she looked at him again, and his response came out much harsher then he wished.

“Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear we will lose many more before this is all through.” 

Kiaya blinked at the bitterness in the words from Commander Cullen.  Either he cares deeply about his men or he resents my decision to take the path or both.  It was enough to clear her head of the anxiety that was fogging her brain. Kiaya squared her shoulders it was time.

“I am pleased to meet you all, I understand the basic idea of what we are going to try and accomplish here.  However, before we begin my belongings... please.”

Leliana smiled as she retrieved a tied bundle of cloth and placed it on the table in front of Kiaya.  Kiaya’s fingers hovered over the bundle, itching to tear it apart in the search for the locket, however, the interested glint in Leliana’s eyes stayed her hand.

“I am sorry Lady Trevelyan, your robes were mostly destroyed.  I had them cleaned, however, I am unsure that you will be able to make use of them again.  Please, if there is anything that you need that our supply officer can’t provide, let me know.  I will do my best to provide whatever it is you need.”  Josephine smiled warmly across the table at Kiaya.  

“I am barely a Trevelyan and I am definitely not a Lady,” Kiaya returned the smile to soften her words.  “I know that my identity will play a role in our plans. I also understand that the name Trevelyan comes with strings: some good, many bad.”  Kiaya took a deep breath as her eyes slid from face to face around her. She had given some thought to her next move, not as much as she would have liked but then she had only been awake a few hours.  “I am willing to take whatever name you wish me to, play whatever role is needed.  Although I will not lie if asked a direct question, I will not openly dispute the Herald of Andraste title that seems to have become popular.”  Kiaya spoke very slowly, controlling the tremor in her voice, her hands and her legs.  She couldn’t quite hide the slight look of distaste that flashed across her face although she smoothed her features quickly.  Her eyes were drawn back to the Commander’s face, which was unreadable as he listened to her speak.  She could feel the colour rise in her cheeks and she swallowed, trying to remember her next thought.

“Why were you at the Conclave under another name?” Cassandra asked abruptly drawing Kiaya’s attention back to the others in the room.

Kiaya chose her words carefully, “It was discovered that there was a contract taken out on Evelyn Trevelyan’s life and there was a plan in place for some time during the Conclave.  Knight-Commander Malcolm and Senior Enchanter Lydia believed I was better... suited to...” Kiaya struggled to find the correct words, “counter the attempt.”  Kiaya breathed slowly; the perfectly controlled faces of those listening to her were starting to rattle her defences a bit.  “I was asked to attend in her place with Knight-Commander Malcolm and Senior Enchanter Lydia and I agreed.”

“How were you acquainted with the Knight-Commander of the Ostwick Circle?” The Commander’s words and tone were softly spoken and Kiaya could feel her face warm under her gaze.

“I was a resident there for a number of years.  In fact, Malcolm was the first templar that I met there.  He was...” Kiaya’s choked on a wave of grieve as she lost her thoughts for a moment in her memories.

She was called back sharply by Leliana’s voice, “You were not a current resident of the circle then?”

Kiaya blinked slowly while she considered the other redhead across the table.  Stay focused.  Grieve later.  “I was not.  I had left a number of months before the circles fell.”

“Left?” Leliana’s smirk was starting to piss off Kiaya enough to override the panic at being the centre of attention.  Maker, she is so fucking smug.

Kiaya spoke firmly, narrowing her eyes at the spymaster and returning the smirk with one of her own. “During my time there I became close with Malcolm and Lydia who, as you probably already know, were instrumental in putting what was left of Ostwick circle back together.”

“As was Lady Trevelyan, if the rumours are to be believed,” Leliana interjected.

Kiaya was not going to be lead in this conversation.  Evie was safer far away from all of this and by now, hopefully, plan B was in motion.  “I was familiar with the idea that the Ostwick party wanted to bring to the Conclave, and I could work with Malcolm to stop any assassins before...,”

“You were killed,” Cassandra finished her sentence. “You were using yourself as bait?”  Cassandra seemed personally insulted by this idea. “You’re not even... you are a mage,”

Kiaya couldn’t help but grin at the taller woman, “And so is she.  It wasn’t a perfect plan but I am more experienced with fighting then Evie.” Kiaya winched slightly at her slip.  Damnit.Fuck it.Fine.

She sighed, “I wasn’t at the Conclave with any motive beyond protecting my sister.  And that is exactly what I intend to continue to do.” Kiaya motioned to the map and markers spread out impressively before them with her marked hand.  It sparked and pulsed right on cue, causing a small gasp to escape Lady Josephine and a sharp intake of breath from the grim Commander.  Kiaya mentally laughed at the mark’s dramatic timing.  But it seemed to have used the small amount of energy that Kiaya still possessed.  She suddenly felt very sick and dizzy and her knees noticeably shook, so much so that she had to grip the table edge to keep from pitching over. “This is a threat to everyone and everything.  This magic is not friendly.” She tightened the grip of her left hand.

Kiaya’s control was gone, all she could think about was moving on, getting through this and lying down. Her words tumbled from her.  

“The immediate problem before us is what name I am going to be using.  The issue with using Evelyn’s name is that contract was paid for by Lord Trevelyan; although, that has probably already been revoked.  He will want control of his now valuable youngest daughter,” the venom was clear in Kiaya’s voice, “and the moment he realizes it’s really me... well, that would be a show worth watching.”

Kiaya slowly straightened, no longer leaning heavily on the table, although her marked hand didn’t relax. “Kiaya Trevelyan would be the most practical maybe.  It was my name in the circle.  However, that would mean nothing but animosity from the Trevelyan family.”

“My name, my past, brings nothing to the table.  Kiaya Rolinin is a nobody from nowhere. ‘Piss poor and proud’...,” Kiaya’s voice hitched, “as he’d say.”

The room filled with silence as everyone seemed to absorb everything she had said.  

“Please,” Kiaya’s voice was shaking and tired, “Decide who you want me to be, then we can move on and fix this hole in the sky and after that,” Kiaya squared her shoulders and raised her chin, meeting everyone’s eye in turn, “we shall see.”

Check out the Master Post to read the other chapters and for the AO3 link.

Likes & reblogs are always appreciated.  And if you would like message me that would be wonderful too.

[hersheygrace]

Seal of Dark Fate

CHAPTER 3: Imprinted Secrets

Genre: Fantasy / Mystery / Romance / Action

Characters: OC / BTS / GOT7 / EXO

Word Count: 5,443

Summary: Min Haeyoon had no idea that a simple trip to the fortune-teller would lead her into meeting a mysterious boy and discovering that she was destined for something that will require her to choose between light and dark.  And along the way, she will realize that the people she knew and the life she led so far were not what she thought them to be.

[1] [2] [3] [4]

RIGHT AFTER THE classes ended, the siblings went straight home to find their house empty which was pretty much a normal thing around those times. Their father, who is a renowned lawyer, usually gets home after eight. While their mother, who is a university professor, always gets home after six and seeing as she still have to run some errands for Jungkook’s high school admission, they expected her to be home later than usual with the boy.

Already changed into more comfortable clothes, Haeyoon went up to her brother’s room to ask for help on her English assignment. Although Yoongi was quite for known for his lethargic ways, the boy is still a ‘smexy’ or smart-and-sexy brained as he would like to put it. “Yoongi?” she called when she saw the boy lounging on his bed while fiddling with his phone.

“Yeah?” he looked up from his bed, hair messy and eyes sleepy.

She flopped down beside him on his bed with books on hand. “Can you help me with English, please?” The boy chuckled at his sister’s cuteness before shifting into a sitting position and opening one of her books.

After a few minutes of studying the questions, he turned at Haeyoon with furrowed eyebrows, “Okay, I know I’m smart and all but I’m not that kick-ass when it comes to English compared to Namjoon so…I think we’ll be needing a little help from Mr. Webster.” He smiled sheepishly at the girl, making her giggle.

“Alright, I get it,” she said laughingly as she got up from the bed. “I think there’s a dictionary in dad’s study.” She headed downstairs and opened the dark wooden door next to the stairwell. It was never locked since it also functions as the family’s mini library. The girl walked up to the book shelf and scanned for the dictionary which she found almost immediately. She was about to leave the room when something shiny on their father’s study table caught her eyes. She turned and saw piles of folder neatly stacked on the mahogany table but what got her curious was the black book partly hidden by some flyers. Peering closer, she saw that the shiny thing she saw were actually tiny different colored gems glinting under the sunlight from the glass window. The gems were attached to the corner of the book and when she shoved the flyers aside, she realized that the whole surface of the five-inch thick book was adorned with jewels to perfection. The book was strange and obviously very old but still in a good condition. Her mouth parted in awe when her eyes landed to the embossed emblem on the middle of the book, surrounded by the seemingly precious stones. It was shaped like an ‘L’ with other swirly intricate designs twirling around it and the girl wasn’t so sure how to explain it but she knows that it was really beautiful and it was definitely made out of pure gold. It was like a crest that one usually see in some old fairytale books, like a crest that represents a family, group or kingdom.

“Wow…” was all she managed to say before her hands, as if having a mind of their own, carefully flipped the cover of the old book open. The first page, which shows a map, was already yellowish on the edges and running a finger over it, the girl knew that it wasn’t just a normal piece of paper. The second and third pages also had a map drawn across it with words and labels that Haeyoon was not familiar with but one word caught her attention. “Lucere,” she breathed as she remembered the word being mentioned by her parents last night. Flipping through the pages, she realized that she can understand the words written on the next pages and when she saw something written about The Guardians and more about Lucere, she rushed upstairs to her brother.

“Yoongi, check this out,” she uttered breathlessly as she cautiously placed the heavy book on the bed before sitting down beside the brown-haired boy. “I saw this on dad’s study table and I guess this could answer our questions.”

“No shit,” he said incredulously before turning his full attention towards the old book. They sat there in total silence as they read the book together. They can’t bring themselves to believe on what was being revealed to them. “Is this book for real? Sorcerers? Kingdom of Lucere? Fuck this shit…” Yoongi grumbled in disbelief but still continued reading while Haeyoon silently tried to absorb the bizarre information. However, they were interrupted when they heard their mother’s voice from downstairs. Another string of profanities left the boy’s mouth as they were both frozen staring at each other, the black book between them. “I’ll distract mom while you return the book,” Yoongi said in panic as they both shot up from the bed and darted downstairs.

Luckily, their mother was busy putting some groceries in the kitchen making it easy for Haeyoon to slip the book back in the study room. She hoped that her father won’t hide it anywhere because they’re not yet done reading. When she went out of the room, she saw Yoongi coming out of the kitchen and heading towards the living room where Jungkook was quietly sitting.

“Hi, mom!” she greeted enthusiastically as she bounced towards the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?” Her mother said something like pasta but her mind was actually drifting towards the book again.

“Jungkook will start next week,” her mother informed her with a smile and upon the mention of the boy’s name, she immediately paid attention.

“Start what?” she asked.

“Going to high school,” the woman replied. “I didn’t know that that kid was a genius. He aced all the tests and his IQ was above normal.”

“Really?” asked Haeyoon skeptically because their encounter that morning sure proved otherwise but then she realized that he did know the dictionary meaning of sex—like literally. “Good for him, I guess.”

“But I would like you to keep an eye on him, dear,” her mother faced her with a sudden serious expression. “Watch over him and guide him.”

Though quite weirded-out by her mother’s request, Haeyoon didn’t show it and just shrugged instead. “Sure, no problem.”

THAT NIGHT, HAEYOON can’t fall asleep. She kept tossing and turning in her bed but it looked like sand man won’t do his job anytime soon. She glanced at her alarm clock and it read fifteen to ten. Her mind was so clouded with many thoughts swimming in her mind such as the black book; their parents’ odd acts lately, and of course, her new classmate—Do Kyungsoo. She really found the new transfer strange and she can’t help but admit that she was quite crept out by his constant stares at her. It was like he wanted to say something but always ended up gazing at her with that unreadable expression on his face. It’s bad enough that he was placed next to her by the teacher because it became so awkward but what’s worse is that she could feel his intense stare like he’s trying to bore holes through her skull. There came a point that she asked him if he needed anything or wanted to say something but he just blushed and shook his head. But Haeyoon have to give it to him though, he was really cute but really weird, too.

A series of patterned knock on her door pulled her out of her stupor. She knew it was Yoongi so she said, “Come in.”

“Hey,” her brother flopped down on her bed, already on his pj’s, a white v-neck shirt and blue cotton pants. “Can’t sleep, too, huh?”

She rested her back against the headboard while clutching a pillow to her chest. “With all the things happening, it’s quite hard.” There was a minute of silence before Yoongi spoke again.

“So, Lucere is a kingdom,” he mused but Haeyoon can still hear doubt in his tone. “And it is a place for…sorcerers.”

She turned to see him staring hard at his lap, like he was in deep thought. “And don’t forget The Guardians who were created to protect the kingdom.” Haeyoon backtracked to the things they read from the book, they weren’t even half way through it when they had to stop and so far, all that they know is that Lucere was a magical kingdom. “It reminds me of Harry Potter.”

“Do you think it’s true? That there is such a place and—I mean, come on, magic? Who believes in freaking magic?” the boy rambled, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“I do,” Haeyoon said softly. “Yoongi, I think I saw it first hand.” Her brother turned to look incredulously at her but she continued. “When Mrs. Jeon died...in my arms…I saw the mark on her hand glow in bright blue before disappearing into thin air.”

“No…freaking way.”

“I know what I saw,” she insisted, turning her whole body so that she’s faced to her brother now. “Then when I touched her son’s hand for the first time…the same mark appeared on my wrist.” She extended her wrist to her brother, palm facing up, to show the black mark. Yoongi gasp as he held his sister’s hand and peered closely at her wrist. “It just appeared there, glowed in blue for a while then became black…like magic.”

“What the hell—why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” the boy looked at her with wide worried eyes.

“I kind of forgot, besides, it all happened just yesterday,” she replied, gently pulling her hand back. “By the way, Jungkook also had a mark like this.”

“What?!” Yoongi exclaimed. “How?!”

“I don’t have any idea, too. But I’m pretty sure that he had it for a long time now.” she shrugged, leaning back at the headboard.

“Should we ask him?” he suddenly said. “Maybe he knows something.”

“I think you’re right,” with that said, they both went towards the next room. The door was left ajar and Haeyoon assumed that he’s still not that comfortable with his new surroundings. “Hey, Jungkook,” she gently called so as not to surprise him. He was sitting on top of his bed with his knees drawn up against his chest, curling like a lost little child. But when he heard her soft voice, he perked up and his face broke out into a happy relieved expression.

She walked into the room with her brother before sitting on the edge of Jungkook’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I was…scared but not anymore,” then he met her in the eye before his handsome face broke out into the first smile Heayoon ever saw on him, clearly letting her know that her presence was enough to make him feel safe.

Her brother cleared his throat as he stood in front of the bed before bringing up the question. “So, Jungkook, do you know anything about this mark?” he questioned before grasping his sister’s wrist and showing the mark to the younger boy. “You have one like this, too, right?”

It took a while but Jungkook recognized it. “Mother had one like that, too.”

“I know but did she ever mention something about this?” he asked again and when the boy slowly shook his head he let Haeyoon’s wrist go. He ‘tsk-ed’ before grabbing the chair on the study stable and straddling it. “You sure?”

Jungkook became silent for a while, as if trying to think of or recall something. “I think…mother did mention something about it being a seal when I asked before but I’m not so sure.”

“Seal?” the siblings said in unison. “Seal for what?” it was Yoongi who asked the question.

“That’s…that’s all I know,” he said with a contrite face.

“It’s okay, what you told us is more than enough,” she patted Jungkook’s head before turning to Yoongi. “I think we should really ask mom and dad about this.”

Her brother snorted at the idea. “As if they would tell us; you heard them last night, they have no intention of letting us in on whatever it is that’s going on until who knows when.”

“Then what do you say we do, Sherlock?” Haeyoon asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Finish the book,” he replied. “I have a feeling that we can find something in there if not the exact answers.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Haeyoon shot the brown-haired boy a look. “You know we can’t get the book unless they’re not here and we’re lucky enough if dad didn’t hide it yet.”

“That’s why we’ll do it tomorrow,” Yoongi persisted. “It’s weekend and they’ll both come home later that usual. We’re gonna have to find it if it’s hidden and Jungkook here can help do the searching while we’re gone since you have to help in aunt’s café while I have basketball practice.”

Haeyoon searched Jungkook’s face who only sweetly smiled at her, “I think I could help you with that.”

“Good,” Yoongi nodded in approval and his sister gave him a funny look. “What?” he demanded with arms crossed across his chest.

“I see you’re already approving of him,” she chuckled when her brother turned away, nose high in the air.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, princess,” he huffed but Haeyoon knew him too well to know that he’s slowly warming up to the other boy.

“Whatever you say, dear brother,” she muttered dismissively before standing up and eyeing the empty glass of milk on Jungkook’s bedside table. “I’ll bring this down for you, hmm?” she turned to Jungkook before patting him yet again on the head which the boy seemed to love very much. Then she glanced at her brother and said, “I’ll go ahead and you can continue having boy-to-boy talk with him.”

Yoongi abruptly stood up with a snort. “Like I would,” he muttered before walking past his sister and accidently bumping on her arm which caused her to drop the glass. They were all startled as it landed on the hard wooden floor and crashed into tiny shards. “Shit, I’m so sorry, princess!”

“It’s okay,” she said as she bent down to start picking up the broken pieces which she realized belatedly was a very stupid move.

“Wait, you’ll gonna—,” Yoongi tried to stop her but it was too late.

“Ouch!”

“—hurt youself.” The boy approached his sister and gently pulled her up to check on her wound. Her index and middle finger on her left hand was cut pretty deep but it was nothing serious. “It’s a pretty big cut but nothing a bandage strip couldn’t solve.”

Haeyoon bit her lip as she winced at her stinging wound. She turned to Jungkook to warn him not to go down the bed until they clean the mess but she was surprised to see him cradling one of his hands with a pained expression. “Are you okay?” she asked as she moved away from Yoongi and approached the boy on the bed.

“What happened?” Yoongi asked as he stood beside them. The siblings were both stunned to see Jungkook sporting the exact same wound as Haeyoon. The middle and index finger on his left hand was bleeding equally as the girl’s fingers. No matter how they think about it, it was obviously no coincidence because it was an identical wound and it happened at the very same time and there were no shards or any sharp objects near the boy where he can possibly get the cut. He was just sitting there, not moving at all so the only explanation they can come up with was that he got it when Haeyoon got it. “Holy shit! How the fuck did that happen?”

Haeyoon and Jungkook were both speechless as they stared at their wounds then at each other’s surprised faces. First the black mark and now this? What in the world is happening?

“Does this mean that—Yoongi, pinch me!” she suddenly blurted but her brother complied notheless and as expected, Jungkook felt it, too. When she asked Yoongi to pinch Jungkook, she felt it as well. “Oh my, gosh…that was weird.”

“Weird?” Yoongi exclaimed so loud it was a wonder their parents didn’t come knocking on the door to ask what’s wrong. “That was more than freaking weird!”

“ARE YOU SURE you’re okay, sweetie?” Haeyoon’s aunt asked her for the umpteenth time. “You’re spacing out since this morning, you can stake some rest if you want.”

The girl tried to force a smile to reassure her aunt that there was nothing to worry about. “I’m really fine, aunty, just thinking about some new recipe that we could add on the menu.” She hated lying but she can’t possibly tell the old woman that she was actually thinking about a certain boy they left in their house and how they both got the same mark and that they could actually feel what the others could feel.

“Alright,” the woman sighed. “But you have to tell me when your wound starts hurting, okay? I can’t let you strain yourself, you helped me more than enough.” Her aunt smiled warmly at her and gave her a squeeze before disappearing in the kitchen and leaving her to attend on the counter.

Haeyoon sighed heavily as she tried to clear her mind for a while, nothing of the things happening make sense but looking at the brighter side of the events, she could make sure that Jungkook is fine even if they’re away from each other because if he’s hurt in anyway, she would definitely feel it. Looking around the cozy shop and smelling the wonderful aroma of the coffee and pastries was slowly relaxing her stressed mind. The café owned by her aunt on mother’s side was peaceful and quiet although there are a few couples, group of teenagers and some university students lounging inside. And that’s how Haeyoon wanted to spend her every Saturday. She started volunteering on the café at the age of ten when she discovered that she had a knack for baking. It’s really a win-win situation for her because aside from being able to do what she loves, she was also able to help her widow aunt. After a few minutes more of calm and peacefulness the bell on the door chimed, signaling the arrival of a new customer…or customers.

“Ooh, the other group of hot stuffs is here,” Minah, her co-worker, grinned at her as she passed by the counter with a tray and two empty cups of coffee. “I really like it when you’re on duty, Haeyoonie, cute boys keep on coming.” The girl’s short black hair bobbed as she giggled. “I already missed you’re brother’s group,” she added with a wink before disappearing inside the kitchen, leaving Haeyoon chuckling to herself at her friend’s silliness.

“Sweetcake!” a loud overly excited voice shattered the tranquil ambiance of the whole café. But as Haeyoon could see, the other customers weren’t bothered much by the new comers, if anything, some of the girls, especially the teenagers, started squealing quietly among themselves with their dreamy eyes following the group’s every move. “Oppa missed you so much!” The loud boy ran up to the counter before leaning over and squishing her cheeks. “You’ve gotten so much cuter since we last visited here.”

“Don’t hog her, Jackson,” a boy with silver hair said as he pushed Jackson out of the way. “Hi, A,” he greeted Haeyoon with a wink that made the other girls in the room swoon.

The auburn-headed girl rolled her eyes. “My name’s Haeyoon, Jaebum,” she reminded him but it went on deaf ears when he insisted on calling her “A” which is a short term for “Angel” according to him.

“Won’t you smile for me, princess?” a voice said from her side and she turned her head to see another black haired boy grinning widely at her.

“You do know that the counter is for authorized personnel only, right?” she said with raised brow before eyeing his arm that was now draped possessively around her shoulder.

“I know and I know for sure that aunty won’t mind Prince Jr being here,” he said and as if on cue, her aunt came out of the kitchen with a pleasant smile.

“My, my, I knew you were here, you, boys, always make quite a grand entrance,” the woman chuckled before adding, “It’s been a while seen I’ve seen Haeyoon’s knights in my café, be sure to enjoy, alright?” The group buzzed in agreement before the woman went back inside.

“I told you,” Jr murmured in Haeyoon’s ears before planting a quick kiss on her cheek causing her roll her eyes once more.

“Oh no, what happened to your hand?!” another raven-haired boy with a patch of yellow on the fringe invaded the counter and her personal space as he fussed over her injured hand. “Did it hurt a lot, Haeyoonie? Do you want me to kiss the pain away?”

“Nice try, Bambam but as far as medical study is concern, morphine can reduce pain and not a kiss,” a tall boy stood beside JB with a smirk on his face.

“You’re such a cockblocker, Yugyeom,” another boy butt in as he slung an arm around the latter’s shoulder.

“Language, Choi Youngjae,” Haeyoon said as she gave him a warning glance.

The boy sheepishly bit his lip as he muttered, “Sorry, princess” to her. While the other boys continued fussing over her hand especially Bambam, Jackson and Jr, a red-haired boy caught her attention. He was just standing silently behind JB but when he caught her looking at him, he showed her a warm smile that he rarely do in front of other people. Haeyoon smiled in return and waved her right uninjured-hand a little and that’s when the boy’s smile faltered. His lips parted a little and his eyes widened ever so slightly in a surprised manner. He suddenly walked around the counter, tore the other boys away from Haeyoon before grabbing her right hand and turning it up.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked breathlessly as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing on her wrist. The other boys suddenly stopped making noises, faces mirroring the red-head’s reaction upon the sight of the unusual mark.

Haeyoon found herself unable to reply. How could she say that it just magically appeared on her wrist when she held hand with Jungkook? Would they believe her? The girl don’t think so, that’s why instead of answering his query, she found herself asking him back. “W-why’d you ask, Mark?”

“Just answer me, damn it!” the boy raised his voice, grip tightening around her wrist and making her flinch. Never once did Mark get angry at her, he was always the cool and calm one, always gentle and careful around her and his outburst quite scared the poor girl.

“Mark,” JB said in an authoritative voice, silently commanding the other boy to release his grip and as soon as Mark let go, Haeyoon was pulled into JB’s arms protectively. Before she could register what’s really happening, the silver-haired boy gently passed her to Jr’s waiting arms before walking out of the café with Mark in tow.

Haeyoon was left with questions on why did Mark and the others react that way. It was like they recognized the black mark at that moment but when she asked them if they know something about it they all frantically shook their heads in strong denial saying that it's the first time they saw something like that and they were quite surprised. But Haeyoon was not that naive to not notice that Jr and the others were dodging her questions and trying to divert her attention by changing the topic. She found them acting strange but she decided to let it slide for the meantime.

“THIS IS SERIOUSLY the best, Yoonie,” Bambam said with mouthful of chocolate cake that she baked.

“Thanks, Bammie,” she chuckled as she wiped the dark icing smeared on his lips with a table napkin. Due to the boys’ persistent demand, she was given a longer than usual break by her aunt who gladly complied with the request.

“I don’t know what I would do with my life if Bambam wasn’t able to discover this café and bring us here,” Jackson said after swallowing a spoonful of strawberry cheesecake; trust the boy to exaggerate things. “I don’t know what I would do with my life if I wasn’t able to meet my baby sweetcake Haeyoon and fall inlove!” Haeyoon just had to roll her eyes at that.

It was because of the café that they met each other. All seven of them went to a middle school not too far away from the café and one day, Bambam was exploring the neighborhood when he accidentally discovered the place. Being the foodie that he was he immediately tried the cakes on display and immediately fell in love. That time, he demanded to see the baker and was pleasantly surprised to see a very pretty girl wearing a cute pink apron. From then on, he frequently visited the café together with his other friends who quickly took a liking at Haeyoon, thus, making them all friends. Having known each other for more than four years is enough to bring them close like siblings.

“Say, ahh, my princess,” Jr cooed at her while he held his fork with mocha cake in front of her lips. However, instead of Haeyoon, Yugyeom was the one who took the bite.

“Haeyoon loves strawberry, don’t you know?” the boy smugly said as he pushed his plate of strawberry cake towards the girl.

“Woah, Mr. I-don’t-want-to-share-what’s-mine was actually giving away his slice of favorite cake? Wow, just wow, you really are something, babygirl,” Youngjae said dramatically complete with slow clapping which made Haeyoon laugh and Yugyeom blush.

Haeyoon then remembered something which made her smile turn upside down as she found herself anxiously glancing out the glass wall. Ever since Mark’s outburst, he and JB are still not coming back. She wondered what happened with Mark and why did he react that way. Sure, the other boys were also surprised and shared the same horrified look when they saw the mark but they seemed to get over it rather quickly and began acting normal and cheerful around her again.

“Jr,” she nudged the boy beside her. “Can you check up on Mark and JB?”

“Why? You worried, princess?” the boy asked jokingly but when she looked at him with a pair of cute worried eyes, he suddenly gushed at her. “Oh my gosh! You adorable little bunny! Why do you have to be so cute?!” He engulfed her in a bear hug while rocking her back and forth.

“Guys, you’re back!” Bambam exclaimed which made them all turn towards the direction of Mark and JB. Haeyoon looked at the two guys but Mark was avoiding her eyes while JB was giving her a smile that say’s she doesn’t have to worry.

“Hi, angel,” JB said as he slid in between her and Yugyeom which earned a lot of protest from the latter. “Where is my favorite cake?”

“Uh, yeah, here,” she passed him a slice of black forest which he accepted with a cute boyish smile. “Is…is Mark okay?” she can’t help but ask as she snuck a glance at the red-head who sat at the farthest side of the table. “Is he mad at me?”

“Of course not,” the silver-haired boy softened when he saw the worried look on Haeyoon’s face. He placed a comforting arm around her before kissing her on the temple. “You’ll see, before the day ends, he will come to you. There’s no way he could last a day without talking to you,” the boy whispered and what he said eased her a bit.

“GOOD THING YOUR brother and his friends aren’t going to pick you up today,” Jackson grinned at Haeyoon as he walked backwards which earned him a few warnings from JB and Jr that what he’s doing was actually dangerous. They were walking Haeyoon to her house since her brother was still in basketball practice.

“I still don’t get why you guys don’t get along,” Haeyoon said to all of them. “It’s like there’s always a competition going on between your group and theirs.”

“There is a competition, sweetheart,” Youngjae pointed out, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Our schools are rivals, remember?”

“But I’m friends with all of you,” she insisted, trying prove her point. “So why can’t you be friends with them, too?”

The boys looked at her with amused smiles on their faces. She really is too innocent for her own good. The competition they were talking about was not just about the school, they were competing in more ways than one but Haeyoon won’t realize it because she’s pure like that.

“It’s a guy thing, princess,” Jr said as he pinched her cute button nose. “Like how wolves claim territory, you know?”

Haeyoon snorted in an unlady-like way which made them chuckle. “Guy thing my ass.”

“Woah, sweetcake is being sassy, me likey,” Jackson wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her which earned him a smack from both JB and Yugyeom.

“We’re here!” Bambam announced when they halt in front of a modern-looking two storey house with white pristine walls and elegant black roof. All of them, with the exception of Mark, gave her either a hug or kiss on the forehead or cheek as they bid her goodbye and Haeyoon can’t help but wonder how they were so much alike with Yoongi and his friends. Haeyoon was sure that the boys would get along just fine if they only give it a chance.

“Thanks for walking me home,” she smiled brightly at them before waving goodbye. She watched them walk away but was surprised when Mark stayed behind.

“Hey,” Mark started rather awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck and refused meeting her in the eye. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier.”

A gentle smile made its way on Haeyoon’s lips when she saw the boy looking so embarrassed and guilty. She knew that Mark wasn’t one to apologize, and seeing him put effort just to make up with her made her forgive him easily. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Mark snapped his head to look at her with a surprised look. He knew that Haeyoon was a very kind-hearted girl but he didn’t expect her to forgive him so easily. “Just like that?”

The girl giggled at his reaction and said, “What? Want me to make you walk on your knees around the city just so I forgive you or do you want me to make you do one hundred flips in the air instead?”

Mark broke out into a carefree grin and shook his head. “Thanks but no thanks; I’ll take your first offer.” He walked towards her and pulled her into a warm embrace. Feeling her warm soft body against him made him realize that getting into sort of a fight or misunderstanding with her, even for just a few hours, was unbearable and made him so upset. “Remind me to not get into a fight with you again,” he sighed as he buried his face into her strawberry and honeysuckle scented hair.

Haeyoon giggled as she patted his back comfortingly. “But, really, why’d you get mad so suddenly?” she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Mark pulled away enough to see her pretty face before shaking his head at her. “I’m sorry for reacting that way but don’t worry, okay?” He pulled her into his arms again. “We’ll protect you…I’ll protect you no matter what happens.”

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

[lyndsaybones]

In Dreams 18

Chapter 1...Chapter 2…Chapter 3…Chapter 4…Chapter 5 …Chapter 6…Chapter 7…Chapter 8 …Chapter 9...Chapter10… Chapter 11…Chapter 12…Chapter 13…Chapter 14…Chapter 15…Chapter 16...Chapter 17

There are times when things are crystal clear, when everything makes perfect sense. He can distinctly remember feeling like he understood his place in the world, but that was a long time ago. Now, he feels like he’s on the road not taken in some strange way, lost in Frost’s yellow wood, meandering about, distracted by sounds, by the beauty and the dark places. Sometimes she’s right there next to him and others, he’s certain he’s lost her.

These last few months, he’s been wandering. Lost as he can be, distracted by Diana, by little white pills, by memories and nightmares when all along, the thing he needed to pay attention to, to keep his eyes wide open for, was her. Always her.

She’s asleep on the couch, she was so drained by the time she checked her apartment and got back to his place that she curled up and drifted off in the space of just a few minutes. He’d read in one of the books that the overwhelming exhaustion is normal, that he shouldn’t worry. But he still does. It can’t be helped.

He’s spent the last couple hours cleaning up the bedroom, making space for her. It dawns on him as he hauls out boxes of magazines and clippings that it’s the first time he’s done something like this for her. It wasn’t so long ago that they were discussing why she didn’t have a desk. She still doesn’t have a desk. She takes up so much of his heart, so many of his thoughts, but she can’t live in either of those places. He’s determined to change that, starting right now.

He may be a lost man, but one thing he’s sees clearly is her and if he can see her, he can find his way.

“Hm, what time is it?” she sighs, her voice sleepy.

“Almost five,” he says.

The late afternoon sun is blazing orange and casting his whole livingroom in gold. It makes her hair look like fire.

“Hungry?” he asks as he sits on the coffee table across from her.

“Starving,” she says with a little smile.

“Good,” he says, pleasantly surprised. He is often asking her to eat, hoping she can tolerate whatever he can present to her.

“Let’s get out of here, go get some pizza,” she suggests, smoothing down her mussed hair.

“Pizza? Feeling adventurous?” he asks.

“Maybe,” she says, a little smirk chasing the end of the word.

They walk side by side and she let’s him take her hand. It’s so big, his fingers long and lanky, wrapping around hers. They look like normal people, she thinks to herself.

“Let’s go here instead,” she says, pulling him toward the neighborhood deli.

“I thought you wanted pizza,” he says.

“A reuben sounds better,” she says, tugging him along.

“Whatever you say,” he concedes.

They wander into the bustling deli, the smell of fresh bread wafting through the air. She wishes she could enjoy it. But there are literally no strong smells that don’t hit her the wrong way. She swallows hard and squeezes his hand.

“I’m gonna go find a table, will you order please?” she asks.

He nods, a little worry line forming between his eyebrows. She hustles to the back of the house and finds a little round table, quickly arranging the chairs side by side and both of them against the wall and facing the door. She’s not about to let anyone get the jump on them. No matter how much misdirection she uses, she is still anxious. She finds herself thinking of wiretaps, hidden bugs, dark men with dark intentions listening in on their discussions, their fights, their lovemaking. A shudder runs down her spine as she searches the faces in the deli, looking for...anything really. Anyone too interested in them, anyone watching. She muses that this must be what the Lone Gunmen feel like most of the time.

“Here you go,” Mulder says as he slides a red plastic basket lined with wax paper in front of her. The sandwich, in concept, seemed like a good idea, but looking at it now, she knows it isn’t going to happen.

“Not hungry anymore?” he asks, clearly taking in her reaction.

“No, not really,” she says with a little disappointment. “That’s not why I wanted to come here anyway.”

“What else did you have in mind at a deli? Ballroom dancing?”

She shifts in the seat and swallows hard.

“I called the Gunmen, that day before you went to see them.”

He pauses mid-bite, his eyes comically wide, and swallows. “And?”

“I told them to switch out the pills, to give you a placebo.”

He looks confused at first and nods. “You didn’t trust me.”

“No. I didn’t.”

He nods again and his expression is somewhat unreadable.

“So getting my memories back has been…”

“A function of recovering from an injury and getting all the drugs out of your system,” she finishes. “You got better on your own.”

“Not entirely on my own,” he says, reaching for her hand. She lets him. She wants it. Screw who might be watching.

“Your turn,” she says.

“My turn?” he asks.

“I kept something from you and now I’m telling you the truth. Your turn.”

He shifts in the creaky wooden chair, straightening his back.

“What makes you think I’m keeping something from you?”

“Whatever this is, whatever you and I are trying to be, won’t work if we can’t trust one another,” she says. “You aren’t just you and I’m not just me.”

She levels a long gaze at him, a clear don’t fuck this up look. He seems to get the hint.

“The truth is, I don’t know what the truth is,” he says. “Diana spun two very different stories and I don’t know which one to believe, or if I believe either of them.”

“What did she say?”

“The pills, the ones that started...all of this. At first she said they were to discredit me, to drive you away.”

“And?”

“She said,” he pauses and stares at the red picnic patterned table cloth. “She said that the pills were given to me to enhance latent psychic ability. To help the men behind the conspiracy see if their plans will play out.”

“Do you think you’re psychic, Mulder?”

“A little psycho maybe,” he deflects.

“Mulder?” she presses.

“I didn’t think it could be true. I really didn’t. But I had a dream that something happened and then it did happen.”

“Could it have been a coincidence?” she asks, ever the rational one.

“I had a dream that there was a fire at your apartment building,” he says, and for once, he looks like to one who is going to be sick. “She said the nightmares were because they had plans to kill you because you were never supposed to get better.”

Their conversation in the Topeka coroner’s lounge flashes in her mind.

“Do you believe in prophetic dreams, Scully?”

“What do you dream about now, Mulder?” she asks.

He squeezes her hand and smiles a little. “Us, I dream about us. I dream about our baby...our daughter, who looks just like you.”

“Then I hope it is true,” she says softly.

The summer evenings last forever and ever. As they walk back to his apartment, he watches her squint against the setting sun and press a hand over her brow to shield her eyes. He can hear the seagulls and waves from his dreams, smell the salt and sunscreen, the easy weight of Gracie on his shoulders.

“I’m glad we talked, that we got things out in the open. I don’t like keeping anything from you,” he says as he takes her free hand.

“Mulder?” she says cautiously, squinting harder.

“What?”

She stops cold and points ahead of them.

“Aren’t we the happy little family?” the Cancer Man asks as he puffs a halo of smoke into the air.

Mulder doesn’t even think before putting his body between Scully and human ashtray in front of them.

“Feeling protective? Paternal instincts kicking in?” he asks.

“What the hell do you want?” Mulder very nearly hisses.

“You saw something in Dallas, took something that wasn’t yours to take. I’ve come to retrieve it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. Scully is in the perfect spot to get a hold of his weapon.

“Diana was quick to turn on you, given the right motivation,” he says.

“She’s alive?” Mulder asks.

“Mostly,” he says, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “The slides. I want the slides Agent Scully took from the morgue.”

He hears, or rather feels her gasp. He would love nothing more than to shove the barrel of his gun under this chain smoking bastard’s chin and be done with all of it.

“I’m willing to offer something in return,” he says, a smug little smile tugging at the sagging skin at the corner of his mouth. “Protection for Agent Scully, for your child.”

“What does she need protection from?”

“Dangerous men, ones who have no concern about ending a life...or two,” he says, his voice thick with foreboding.

“C’mon, Scully,” he says, reaching for her hand. “Let’s go.”

She clutches to him desperately as they slowly retreat down the sidewalk, never turning their back on the Cancer Man.

“The offer has an expiration date,” he warns, a menacing smile curling underneath the smoke. “...more like a due date? I’ll be in touch.”

[kartiavelino]

What’s in your bag, Krewella?

What’s in Your Bag? is a recurring function in which we ask individuals to inform us a bit extra about their on a regular basis devices by opening their luggage and hearts to us. This week, we’re that includes digital musicians (and sisters) Krewella. The Verge meets Jahan and Yasmine Yousaf, aka Krewella, at Chicago’s Felix Resort. The duo is understood for quite a few dance anthem hits like “Crew,” “Alive,” and “Stay For The Night time,” in addition to their equally explosive performances / DJ units. Through the years, the Krewella sound has included all the pieces from pop to dubstep to their Pakistani roots, all with a relentless thread of disarming, heart-on-sleeve honesty. This Chicago journey winds up being a bittersweet homecoming. Though the sisters now dwell in Los Angeles, Chicago is the place they grew up, and strolling down the resort hallway, Yasmine immediately realizes none of their members of the family dwell right here anymore. “Is it nonetheless dwelling,” she muses whereas looking for the room’s keycard, “if there is no such thing as a household you may connect with a spot?” If house is the place your household is, then Jahan and Yasmine are at all times at dwelling. They’re virtually glued to one another always and as Krewella, the 2 have written music collectively, carried out collectively, and toured collectively for a decade. (Krewella is presently on tour, hitting up stops like Tomorrowland and Lollapalooza Paris over the subsequent few months.) Naturally, they’re tremendous shut. In consequence, they usually talk about their habits and life mantras in plural: “We eat tremendous clear,” “We’re each at all times studying,” “We could be sleep disadvantaged.” Whereas they could share some way of life decisions (okay, plenty of way of life decisions), character shifts between the 2 begin to unfold as they stroll us by way of their issues. They each love books, for instance, however whereas Yasmine burns by way of one each few days, Jahan wants time to course of what she reads, earnestly highlighting as she goes in order to not overlook the vital bits. The additional we delve, the extra apparent it turns into that the issues Krewella travels with spotlight the values they maintain most expensive — recollections, mindfulness, and music. Discover out what else these sisters carry in their bag whereas on tour, beneath. Photograph by Chris Sullivan for The Verge Yasmine: We’re each at all times studying. I’m obsessive about my books. I like my books. You understand that query, like, if your home is burning down and you’ll solely save one factor… can I save all of my books? I don’t care about the rest. My canine and my books. I’m good. I’d be crushed if I misplaced my assortment. I lately purchased The Twelve-Mile Straight as a result of I went to the Nationwide Museum of African American Historical past and Tradition in DC. It was essentially the most unbelievable museum I’ve ever been to in my life. There have been a number of instances the place I used to be in tears. It’s very emotional and in addition very heartwarming at instances. So informative. So nicely carried out. It obtained me again right into a part of desirous to be taught extra concerning the historical past of African-People and black individuals in this nation and their struggles. This e book is ready in 1930s Georgia. It’s a interval piece a couple of sharecropper and his group. It’s a fictional story, however very true to its time and really telling and disturbing. I believe it’s vital to be uncomfortable and examine these items and be taught. Jahan: The Miracle of Mindfulness was really helpful and really given to me by our supervisor Nathan. He is aware of that meditation has been a battle for me for years now. I’ve a really overworked mind and I get actually stressed. I really feel like meditation and mindfulness are a lacking piece in my life. So, this e book is giving me the instruments to know easy methods to have interaction in conscious habits. What I have to do now’s put that data into observe in on a regular basis life. I’m making an attempt to be conscious in each single job I’m doing, whether or not it’s driving or washing the dishes or doing vocal warm-ups; committing to no matter that act is with full love and being current on the similar time. I believe we dwell in an overstimulated world. We’re at all times making an attempt to multitask and we don’t give our full consideration to the factor at hand. The highlighter, consider it or not, is such an integral a part of my studying expertise. I have a tendency to enter la la land once I’m studying. I’ll learn 5 pages and have to return and re-read the place I glazed over. The highlighter forces me to essentially take note of each single sentence, and I do prefer to revisit passages as a result of I’m forgetful. Yasmine: We each have a Kindle. I burn by way of books so rapidly. Mine is ready up with 50 unread books always. I most likely learn three books every week. I’m at all times studying in my free time. Jahan: I’m like… one e book each three months. I’ve at all times been a sluggish learner and I learn slowly. I believe I simply get distracted simply. I do prefer to alternate between books as a result of generally I’ve to modify up the vibe. Photograph by Chris Sullivan for The Verge Yasmine: We share the GoPro, however the disposable and Canon cameras are mine. Jahan and I’ve at all times beloved actual images as a result of we’ve got so many photograph albums at dwelling. Half of them are from after we have been youngsters, after which there was this large 10-year break of not having any images. We have been like, fuck this, we have to have photograph albums of our personal from our period, not simply the ‘90s and ‘80s. So, we began increase this assortment of images. Disposable cameras are the best means to try this on the highway. The Canon is a PowerShot. I had a robust urge a pair years in the past to begin taking good images. It’s like, the best digital camera you should buy as an newbie photographer. I like the standard and it takes nice video, too. I’ve some superb movies from Asian or European international locations the place I go away it on as we’re driving. It’s extra only for me. I’m not a photographer. I’ve a cool-ass digital camera, however I don’t declare to be a photographer. It’s a straightforward solution to shoot cool, enjoyable images. It’s lovely — a snapshot of time. The GoPro is for dwell reveals if we need to catch some actually uncooked footage that our videographer wouldn’t be capable of get as a result of we’re like, selfie-style with it with the gang. Jahan: The Monster headphones got to us. They’re very abused and proof of how laborious we go at our reveals. I believe they’re just a few years outdated. As soon as a pair of headphones is unusable and distorted, I’ll throw them out in the gang. Yasmine: We each have these in-ears. They’re Final Ears and are so useful as a result of they don’t block any sound, they simply block dangerous frequencies. You possibly can nonetheless hear the music. It’s a bit of softer than what it might be with out them, however all they’re doing is obstructing dangerous frequencies. We are able to nonetheless benefit from the music, and we really feel the music with out ruining our ear well being. They’re customized molded in order that they match actually cosy and you’ll head bang and whip round with out them flying out. Jahan: I’ve had my iPhone 6 for 3 and a half years. I refuse to get a brand new cellphone till that’s utterly unusable. I believe it’s as a result of Yasmine and I grew up a family the place we don’t like losing. We like to maximise the potential of the gear that we’re utilizing. Plus, the one factor flawed with it’s that I can’t take selfies and don’t give a shit about not taking selfies! The tape is okay and holding it collectively for now. I dropped it in the kitchen whereas I used to be multitasking and so long as I can textual content and make calls and I’m with Yas, I don’t really feel like I have to have a completely functioning cellphone. Yasmine: I just like the laptop computer. I lately began stickering it as a result of it makes me really feel like an adolescent once more. I don’t know why we stored the laptop computer clear for thus lengthy! Jahan: This sticker is vital — Journey Krew — it’s a community of fantastic hardcore followers who journey everywhere in the United States. They’ve nurtured this superb group on their very own outdoors of us and so they assist different followers with transportation and determining easy methods to save prices on journey. It’s virtually like this cool journey company. Yasmine: We’ve been utilizing the Traktor X1 because the daybreak of our DJing. That is truly an outdated X1. They’ve up to date this piece of apparatus and I refuse to get the brand new one. I must remap all the programming in Traktor. It took me a very long time, so it’s out of laziness, however I don’t need the brand new one! Utilizing the X1 is an element backup if something fails, as a result of we use Traktor on our pc. However, it’s additionally for results, for cueing… it’s very multi-purpose. You make it what you need. Photograph by Chris Sullivan for The Verge Yasmine: The mascara is CliniqueFIT. It’s their exercise line, however when you go to a Krewella present you’ll perceive. We’re leaping round and sweating the entire time so mainly it’s like a exercise. It’s my present mascara, however it’s additionally my on a regular basis mascara as a result of I similar to the best way it goes on. Jahan: My buddy Sylvia is a pharmacist and has been making an attempt to persuade me to modify over to natural tampons for years. Your physique absorbs all of the pesticides in cotton [tampons]. I believed, one thing that we’re placing in us, each single month, day after day, we should always most likely be investing in the cleanest model of that. I made the change a pair months in the past. Yasmine: 4 Stigmatic makes mushroom mixes and elixirs. They’re not mushrooms like portobello… Jahan: …or magic mushrooms. [Laughs] Yasmine: They’re superfood mushrooms. This one has chaga, which is definitely actually good for your power and mind perform. If we’d like a lift and don’t need to take caffeine, chaga is de facto good. They produce other elixirs, like one to calm you down earlier than going to mattress or when you have nervousness. Justin’s almond butter is so self-explanatory. We eat tremendous clear and that’s only a good go-to snack if we’re hungry, which is at all times. Native is a pure deodorant. We each switched to this about six months in the past. I used to be utilizing Secret for 15 years, and it has aluminum in it, which causes Alzheimer’s. This firm’s substances are actually clear. It doesn’t work as nicely. I can’t even lie about that, it’s simply not going to work like regular deodorant. Jahan and I are tremendous laborious on our knees. We’re leaping round on a regular basis and we work out rather a lot, so the Important Proteins collagen packet is de facto good for our joints and ligaments. It’s a baggie of collagen powder combined with flavors. You possibly can put in water or in a smoothie or açaí bowl. That is marine collagen, so generally when you put it straight in water it’s a bit of fishy, however in a smoothie you’d by no means know. Jahan: The Icy Scorching patch is for accidents that may occur on the highway, whether or not it’s joints or sprained ankles, which I are inclined to do rather a lot as a result of I’ve weak ankles. It’s actually helpful. I’m truly presently recovering from a sprained ankle and that is good if I’m swelling however don’t have ice accessible or if I’m on a airplane. This toothpaste is clay based mostly. It’s bentonite clay and MCT oil which is in coconuts. You possibly can just about eat this. It’s not as pungent as what most individuals are used to. You understand whenever you use Crest and your mouth is tingling? Pure toothpaste doesn’t have that impact as a result of it doesn’t have issues like sodium laureth sulfate, which causes the foaming. It’ll look ugly, such as you’re spitting out mud. Our dad’s motto is “keep nearer to nature” so we maintain that in thoughts any time we’re shopping for topicals, dietary supplements, snacks, something that’s going to be in our physique or on our physique. CBD spray is de facto helpful to have on the highway. We’ll get again to our resort after a present at three or 4AM. By the point we get in mattress, regardless that we could be sleep disadvantaged, we’re nonetheless so wired from the adrenaline and pleasure of being round so many followers. CBD helps to calm and chill out you when you’re overstimulated. Yasmine: The primary time I ever tried something CBD, I used to be so chill I didn’t need to get off the sofa. Jahan: The roll-on perfume is from Smashbox. Yasmine and I odor actually dangerous after reveals as a result of we’re so uninhibited and go actually laborious… and pure deodorant [laughs]. So I prefer to have this on me earlier than we do a meet and greet, or if we’re getting off a airplane and have that bizarre sweaty airplane stench. It’s a pleasant, coconut-y, tropical scent. I believe it’s just a few years outdated. Photograph by Chris Sullivan for The Verge Yasmine: I’ve by no means monogrammed something in my fucking life. However one in every of our managers, Jake, purchased this for my birthday a pair years in the past and it’s the nicest backpack. It’s TSA compliant, has a pocket for actually something you may consider, and is so sturdy it can most likely final me the remainder of my life. I hate the truth that it says Yazzy on it. I like Jake to demise and he was spot on with the precise backpack. So, possibly I’ll simply paint over it or one thing after which I’ll be completely good. Shout out Tumi for being so costly, however so superior. Vox Media has affiliate partnerships. These don’t affect editorial content material, although Vox Media could earn commissions for merchandise bought by way of affiliate hyperlinks. For extra data, see our ethics coverage. https://www.theverge.com/2018/6/15/17430664/whats-in-your-bag-krewella https://www.news9ontime.com/whats-in-your-bag-krewella/