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drjackandmissjo · 3 years

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I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you

(but I’ll do what I must for there’s no me without you)

*** Set throughout the course of their 7th and final year at Hogwarts, this story follows Slytherin's finest and one of the only sane members of the House, Blaise Zabini, as he navigates war-torn friendships, school under a dictatorial regime, Death Eaters and, most importantly, his secret relationship with none other than the new leader of the DA, known blood-traitor, Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom.

A sequel to my previous story: Firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine, you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Chapter 1 --- next chapter

Harry Potter fic masterlist

29th of July 1997

“I have to admit: I enjoyed the film way more than I expected to,” he said once they had left the muggle theatre. The air had become chilly during the time they had spent inside, but neither of them was bothered by that: they were used to colder climates, after all, spending most of the year in Scotland. And for all its spells and constant fires, one thing always must be said about Hogwarts: certain rooms and corners had never seen the light of the sun and they surely behaved as such, even during warm days.

Like the Potions classrooms, while Snape was their Professor. Those dungeon rooms looked and smelled and felt every bit of humidity that came from being so close to the lake and that, even with the countless explosions that Theo and the Fire Kid from Gryffindor caused with each lesson, could never get anything warmed up. A Hungarian Horntail could breathe fire in there for 24 hours straight and it would still be humid and wet and cold.

It was a good thing Professor Slughorn had decided to move the classrooms up on the fourth floor, in rooms full of windows and light. Blaise could have easily gone without having to add to his ever-growing list of worries his skin getting dehydrated with the stained and stale air that circulated down there.

He watched from the corner of his eye Neville nod along to his statement in agreement, before casually running a hand through his hair and messing them up even further. No matter how hard he tried to keep them neat and proper, like his grandmother wanted them to be, the strands appeared to have a life on their own, especially when certain Slytherin hands had free reign in between them whenever they were alone.

Besides, it really wasn’t Blaise’s fault: Neville had decided he wanted to grow them out, instead of cutting them just as his grandmother suggested on the daily, and, much to Blaise’s happiness, now his bangs framed his face divinely, making for a perfect place to leave his hands whenever they were else occupied.

He also enjoyed the way Neville would scoff in pretended annoyance whenever he disarrayed them and then would shake his head in disbelief at his antics, aiding Blaise’s purpose even further.

And, really, who could blame him? If Blaise wasn’t as in love with the dorky plant-head Gryffindor as he already was, he’d fall even harder at the sight of him with his funky tousled hair and puffy lips as he took a bite out of Blaise’s food without asking first.

He had been so glad that day, having bought a muggle camera that worked similarly to a magical one but that was way easier to manage. He had taken dozens of stills of them, never seeming to get enough of Neville’s smiling face and of his own relaxed and happy one. For Salazar’s soul, he had even sent one of the two of them smiling to his mother, after she kept on asking to at least see the young man that had enchanted her son.

She had replied to his letter the following day, with a simple: “Rule number fifty-one: don’t let him go.”

Blaise had never once wanted to disappoint his mother and definitely wouldn’t start now.

“I don’t really like the way it ended, though. The part where J removed K’s memories was a nice touch, but I feel like we didn’t have enough time with neither,” Neville commented, shoving his hands inside his jeans’ pockets as they kept on walking further and further away from the theatre, undoubtedly to stop himself from doing something idiotic like holding Blaise’s hand when there were still people around.

Given the current political and non-political air that permeated both the Wizarding World and Britain, the two young men had decided that it would be best to limit their encounters only to muggle areas in London, although they would still have to maintain a rather low and inconspicuous profile. It had become incredibly easy to be together without raising suspicions, especially with almost an entire school year of experience sneaking around the castle, but they still preferred to be cautious, to hide from both dark wizards and close-minded muggles.

Neville still lived with his grandmother, but she had become less strict during the course of his first week back at home from school and didn’t really bother him with the amount of time he stayed out, as long as he spent the nights at home. Besides, in her own words, they all had ‘bigger problems than teenagers breaking curfew a little bit to meet with their friends.’ Blaise couldn’t believe that he could ever agree with Augusta Longbottom, but he had seen stranger things happen.

Still, when Neville told him, he had been so shocked he had choked on his drink, causing the Gryffindor to laugh at the spectacle he had created with his Cola.

Blaise himself had been invited to spend his vacation at either Malfoy Manor and the Nott’s, both families offering their hospitality and implicit protection, but he had declined immediately under the ruse of a simple: ‘I live with you the whole year, I need my space and I need to breathe proper air that isn’t tainted with your disgusting deodorant.’ While the sentiment itself was true, he did not want to risk being found out with Neville, a known ‘blood traitor’. Not to mention the part of him being a guy. And a Gryffindor.

Blaise wasn’t really certain about which part would get him into more trouble and wasn’t willing to find out anytime soon.

Therefore, he had chosen to stay at his father’s old bachelor apartment in London, while his mother moved back to France, not wanting to be anywhere near the War that was brewing.

He had asked Neville to stay with him as soon as he was done cleaning the place, making it welcoming and a cosy retreat for them, but his adorable boyfriend couldn’t leave his despotic grandmother alone the entire time, especially not now that the waters were rough.

Always the selfless Gryffindor.

They had retorted then in meeting for random dates almost daily, which had been heavenly. Neville would show up at his apartment with Floo Powder, since he hadn’t taken his Apparition Examination yet, and then they’d just walk around muggle London, as if they had no care in the world. They still kept their guards up, checking every corner for danger that could be avoided, but they tried to ignore the Damocles Sword that hung above their necks.

Which had led them to the muggle theatre on more than one occasion. It had been a perfect idea: in the darkened room nobody questioned why they were holding hands or sharing the popcorn; and they wouldn’t risk anyone from the Wizarding World discovering them, those who would cause them troubles too high on their brooms to even look down at something as mundane as a muggle theatre.

They had also gone to muggle museums and parks and bookstores and restaurants, but Blaise loved the privacy the theatres offered, he loved the way Neville would get engrossed in the stories, he loved the way their hands would link together as suspense built on the screen, he loved to discuss the film afterwards and to dissect every aspect that he found interesting.

And he loved Neville, so it was all an added bonus.

There was a small theatre nearby his place that was quiet and seldom fraught and that allowed them to spend their evenings together, with the walk towards it full of the most random topic the pair could come up with and the walk back usually occupied with their thoughts and opinions about the film they had just watched. Neither of them had been too well versed in muggle culture to begin with, but it was very easy to pick up, especially with the way the family-owned theatre would sometimes project well-known and older productions, instead of only showing the recent ones.

It made the muggle spectacle even more fascinating, in Blaise’s eyes.

“It was kind of poetic, like a rite of passage and everything, but I understand what you mean,” Blaise said as they kept on walking, itching to grab Neville’s hand but holding himself back for the time being: they were still under the scrutiny of the public eye, after all. He’d have to wait until they turned two corners and were finally alone in the streets to finally place his hands on his boyfriend’s. With moderation, of course. “I feel like the story isn’t finished, especially with the way they had the doctor become an Agent. I understand that she had had her memory wiped more times than Lockhart, but she seemed fine! I don’t know, that ending left me pretty unsatisfied as well.”

His boyfriend huffed out a laugh at that and began to silently shake his head: “Lockhart got obliviated only once, by his own spell bouncing back from Ron’s broken wand. Compared to him, that doctor got her brain scrambled on the daily. But you’re right, it would have been so much better if she kept her job and was on the loop with the alien stuff.”

“Speaking of Lockhart, I wonder how’s he doing…” Blaise inquired, scratching his neck. It had been over three years since anyone had heard of the famous wizard and pretty much everyone had seemed to have forgotten about him. It was such a mystery for some, his sudden disappearance after his year teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Yet again, pretty much all the students at Hogwarts knew of the curse on that position, which made his absence plausible, but to have such a well renowned and celebrated man vanish into thin air after publishing a controversial book where he told the world he had no memory of who he had ever been, it was more than suspicious.

“At St. Mungo’s, giving out autographs Godric knows what for,” Neville answered his implicit question with nonchalance, “I see him sometimes when I go visit Mum and Dad.”

During the time they had been together, Neville had slowly begun to tell Blaise about what had happened to his family: how they were members of the original Order of the Phoenix, fighting the Dark Lord during the First War; how Dumbledore had suggested they hid as well as the Potters, because of some prophecy that would connect their children with the Dark Lord himself; how, after he was defeated and the Potters were killed, his parents were tracked down by four remaining Death Eaters and tortured to insanity; how they now stayed at St. Mungo’s, without a single memory of their son, completely out of their minds.

Blaise had always been cold and calculative and preferred to keep a rational outlook to the world, but when he saw, for the first time since that new information, Bellatrix Lestrange, at Malfoy Manor, free and enjoying life, his blood had begun to boil. He had never wanted to murder someone as much as he did in that moment, forcing himself to maintain a smile on his face and to pretend like he wasn’t ready to slaughter someone. When he came back home that night after dinner with Draco and his wretched family, he had spent an entire hour in the shower, scrubbing at his skin as if he could erase the memory of that wretched woman, drinking wine and telling them all about the Cruciatus Curse and how useful it could be to a dark wizard. He had kept that piece of information hidden from Neville, even though he had recounted pretty much the entire evening the following day, while his boyfriend attempted to calm him down from his homicidal plans, without truly knowing what had instigated them.

And he would never know, for Blaise would go to any lengths to avoid his sweet and loving boyfriend any pain. He had already suffered too much, in his short life.

“Really, he’s at St. Mungo’s?” Blaise asked, trying to distract himself from those dark thoughts. When he was with Neville, it almost felt as if Death Eaters didn’t exist, as if the Dark Lord hadn’t risen again, as if they weren’t on the verge of War. “I thought the whole ‘Who Am I?’ book was all a plan to disappear after he botched our second year without being bothered and now you tell me that Weasley sent him to the healers and basically deprived the Wizarding World of that perfectly blinding smile?” Neville playfully shoved him to the side with his shoulder, lingering a little in his touch as they kept on walking, just as restless as he was to be behind closed doors and to have their privacy and safety: “Ron didn’t send him anywhere and he got what he deserved,” he commented sheepishly, regarding Blaise with a blinding smile of his own.

And Blaise definitely preferred his boyfriend’s smile, so true and sincere and warm and just perfect, rather than anything their former fraud of a professor had ever shared.

“He spent the entire year pretending he could do shit and leaving me hanging from the ceiling, multiple times, and then, at the first sign that he needed to be a responsible adult, he tried to Obliviate Harry and Ron and leave Ginny down with the Basilisk. They got so lucky that Lockhart took Ron’s wand that still hadn’t been repaired, otherwise they’d all still be down there.” Then, as if in an afterthought, he added: “And don’t worry, he still got that smile,” his face reddened and visible even in the dimly lit street.

“No need being jealous of a man who isn’t even worth the mud under your shoes, Nev,” he teased, enjoying how his boyfriend would stammer embarrassed at being discovered.

“I’m not jealous!” he defended himself, but the crimson on his cheeks spoke of another story.

Blaise itched to cup his cheeks and to feel the warmth of his skin, but they were still in the middle of a street that was fairly illuminated and with people around. Therefore he did the next best thing: returned on a safer conversational path. “Oh, yeah, I remember about Weasley’s wand,” he said, laughing at the memory, “It bounced back that Slug-vomiting charm that was aimed at Draco. We had a blast that day, when he told us the story.” “Glad some of you enjoyed it, with your sick sense of humour,” Neville said, shuffling his hands inside of his pockets as they moved closer and closer to the corner that would lead them to the apartment, “poor Ron had to carry a bucket wherever he went for two days straight!”

Blaise couldn’t help himself: maybe it was the serious way he defended his friend, or maybe it was the image of a tiny second-year Weasley carrying around the entire castle a bucket to throw up slugs in, undoubtedly aided by an equally tiny Saint Potter with a bewildered tiny Grander following suit and reprimanding them both, but he just burst up laughing, his entire body shaking with it as he put his hands over his stomach, to try and regain his composure.

Yet, all thoughts of etiquette were damned as soon as he heard his boyfriend join in, his own laugh bright and pure and just perfect.

And the icing on their cake laid in the fact that they were alone, without anyone watching them, and they could just be themselves. Blaise didn’t hesitate a moment into grabbing Neville’s hand, enjoying the warmth that the Gryffindor radiated. They kept on laughing and holding hands as they walked back to the one place they could call theirs.

They all but ran the few meters that kept them vulnerable, staggering over the stairs as if they were drunk. It was a somehow good paragon, considering how inebriated they were with each other, and Blaise couldn’t stop thinking about how wonderful his life was in that moment. He could just be himself, around Neville, without having to worry about composure or secrets or manners.

When they closed the door behind their backs and stumbled inside of the apartment, they didn’t even open the electrical lights up, too engrossed in making up for the time they hadn’t been allowed to share, close and up in each other’s personal space.

Blaise would’ve been content in simply existing there, in the tiny apartment that once belonged to his late father, with his hands up on his boyfriend’s hair as he worked and worried over Neville’s exposed neck, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, watching him lean against a wall for support once his legs had given up completely. The outside world didn’t matter anymore, not to him, not when he had Neville’s hands on him. He’d be glad dying there, in his arms, unbothered by the imminent war, by his friends, by their duties.

But reality had to crash down on them at some point.

Neville removed his mouth from his, panting and with his eyes shut, savouring for one more moment their closeness. Blaise studied his face from the short distance, as he always loved doing, recognising his boyfriend’s reluctance to separate. Yet, his duty would win, as it always did, and he would take a step back, trying to recompose himself and running a hand through his hair.

It was long due a haircut, by now, but Blaise was an egoist and wanted the length to stay for a little longer. Besides, when September came, his grandmother would definitely cut it, even against Neville’s will. And Blaise would take whatever he could, when it came to going against Augusta Longbottom.

He hadn’t even met the woman yet and he had already accepted defeat, if it meant keeping Neville in his life. And, while he did not harbour any love for the witch, he was most certain he could keep an amicable front with her, at least, all for Neville’s sake.

That didn’t mean, though, that he didn’t try to stray her grandson into a different path than the one she wanted, at every corner: “Can’t you stay this once?” he asked in a low and sultry voice, fully conscious of what that tone did to his perfect Gryffindor boyfriend, refusing to take a step back and let a single centimetre separate the two of them.

He watched as Neville slowly opened his eyes in the dim light that was filtered by the window from the empty street below. He watched as his throat bobbed as he swallowed, trying to regain his breathing. He watched, powerless, as Neville slipped them over, switching their positions, effectively trapping him against the wall in his arms.

The Gryffindor bent down a little and placed the most chaste and sweet and anticlimactic kiss on Blaise’s lips, driving the Slytherin mad with want and desire, unable to do anything other than comply.

“You know I can’t, flower,” he murmured directly against Blaise’s lips, his own stretching in a wicked smile. Neville Longbottom knew exactly which buttons to press and when to use them all against him: Blaise couldn’t help the shiver that ran over his back at that simple word, still not used to the way the simple pet name made his toes curl and his heart beat out of his chest, nor could he help the sound of appreciation that came out of his throat, and that transformed immediately into one of disappointment as soon as his boyfriend untangled himself from him.

He tried to make some air reach his brain, when Neville stepped back from him once again, leaving him space to breathe and recollect himself while still being infuriatingly close, neither of them wanting to truly part despite their obligations.

“Yes, I unfortunately do…” he answered, still leaning against the wall. He ran his right thumb over his lips, enjoying the way the Gryffindor’s body stiffened at the sight as his eyes tracked the movement. He sometimes still couldn’t believe his luck, especially when Neville looked at him like that, as if he needed all of his strength just to hold back.

Most of the time, Blaise wished he didn’t, yet the knowledge that he was the one to make the apparently timid, placid Schlongbottom, as his friends still believed he was, lose his mind completely was intoxicating. And he lived for those moments and hours when Neville would let go of his composure fully, causing Blaise to follow suit without a single complaint. Because he couldn’t be the farthest from timid or placid, but only he saw that side of him, only he got to enjoy that part of his sweet and amazing boyfriend.

“What are you going to do tomorrow?” Blaise asked almost out of the blue, conscious already of the reply, but wanting to steal some more time alone with the Gryffindor.

He didn’t particularly care that he was abiding by the stereotype that Slytherins were manipulating and tempting, not when Neville would shoot him a blinding but cocky smile as he fired back: “Already missing me?”

“Always.”

“I told you, I’m going to help Luna find a dress for the wedding and Grandma’s organised that family gathering to celebrate my 17th…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, to try to make his blushing less noticeable. Unfortunately for him, in doing so, he had involuntarily made his shirt rise a little, showing off the skin beneath, and Blaise was not going to let such an opportunity pass: he moved closer and snug his arms around his boyfriend’s midriff, planting his hands in the small of his back. “Remind me again why I can’t crash her party and steal you away?” he asked casually, next to his ear, before he began to worry the earlobe with his teeth.

Neville seemed to be at a loss for words under Blaise’s ministrations, which was entirely his goal, but he eventually did manage to speak again: “Because she doesn’t know about us, since if she did we’ll never hear the end of it ‘cause we were keeping this a secret, and you are a Slytherin and I am a Gryffindor, and because she is not allowing me to invite any friends,” he said, his voice firm and unfaltering, despite the way his hands were holding Blaise close to him, silently begging to keep up with his work.

Not that he was planning to stop anytime soon. Still, some words at the back of his throat itched to be said: “I have a few words I’d like to tell your grandmother and none of them are kind,” Blaise claimed, staring right into Neville’s eyes and wondering how such a stern woman could raise such a loving man. While it was true that she had laid off his back for the time being, she had doubled down on her questions about Neville’s private life: the poor Gryffindor had to retort to lying simply to avoid her finding out about their relationship. It was a good thing that he had quite a vast number of friends and that said friends didn’t interact with his grandmother, because, based on Blaise’s very own experience with pureblood families, everyone knew everything, especially when ‘keeping the lines pure’ was involved and everyone turned out to be related.

For instance, Neville’s white lie for that day’s activity was very simple: “I’m going to play Quidditch with my roommates and we’ll have dinner afterwards.”

When Neville had told him as much, Blaise had exploded into laughter and disbelief. Was it believable for his boyfriend to play Quidditch? Absolutely not, but he shared a dormitory with Weasley, Thomas and Saint Potter, therefore he played by proxy. It would have equally been absurd for his grandmother to and not to believe him, which was what made the lie incredibly clever.

Blaise shook his head as he silently snickered at the fresh memory, still hesitant to remove his hands from his boyfriend’s body: “Anyway, who’s getting married now that we’re almost on the brink of war?” he inquired, truly curious. A wedding in the Wizarding World was a very public event, especially when pureblood families were involved, which they must have been, if Lovegood was invited.

All of his friends still kept on calling her Loony, but he had stopped using that epithet, since he had begun to consider her a friend as well, thanks to their mutual connection to Neville. And she was an excellent friend, both to him and his boyfriend, kind and compassionate and considerate.

He had already begun to wonder about who the couple must have been, considering no one in his circles had mentioned anything, when Neville spoke, making him understand exactly why nobody amongst the purebloods he spent his time around had even known or cared about such a thing: “Bill Weasley, Ron’s eldest brother, and Fleur Delacour.”

“The Triwizard Champion? How did they even meet?” he inquired, now even more curious. He had seen the eldest Weasley only once, at Gringotts, and it was in that moment that he first began to question whether or not he was straight. And, to pair that with Beauxbatons’ champion, well… That must have been a hell of a good looking couple!

“I don’t know,” Neville said, leaning his head against Blaise’s shoulder and looking at him with a soft smile through his eyelashes, “but they’re super cute together, at least that’s what Ginny told me.” “And you haven’t been invited?” His boyfriend shrugged at that, Blaise knew he did not particularly care about mundane events and being into the public eye: “No, from what Ginny told me it’s not going to be that big of a ceremony. Only family, close friends of the couple, and neighbours. Which is why Luna’s going, as well as to spend time with Ginny.”

“That’s a shame you won’t be there,” he commented, running for the umpteenth time that eventing his hands through Neville’s hair, as the other wizard stayed there, merely enjoying his ministration while he tried not to fall asleep. It had happened already once, right before he had to leave, and that incident had prompted his grandmother into a speech about the right of an adolescent Gryffindor to a little bit of rule-breaking. “I bet you would’ve looked dashing in a suit.”

“Jealous, darling? You know you could always look at me in a suit, if you’d just let me borrow one…” “Not a chance, caro. Mine are all tailored to perfection for my body,” he said playfully, moving his head to the side to place a small kiss on Neville’s nose, causing the other wizard to blush and giggle, “Besides, I prefer seeing you without a single stitch.” “Blaise! You can’t just say shit like that!” his boyfriend spluttered, trying to get away from his words as if they had just tickled him. He loved the way Neville would get all cute and embarrassed. His usual tell was the blush that started on his cheeks and spread throughout his body, and that was incredibly adorable. Blaise had tried to see just how farther the colour could spread, but he had been distracted in his path, somehow. “Why not? No one is listening and it’s true!” he had begun to retort, only to be shut up quickly as two lips pressed against his own, soft yet insistent, gentle yet commanding. One thing had to be said about Neville Longbottom and that was how efficient he was at quieting him with a single gesture, whether with a kiss or by simply occupying his mind with the little things he always did, essentially being himself, unfiltered.

It took them less time than usual to resurface for once, mainly because Blaise still wanted to know more about the hot new wizarding couple that could definitely take over the world, if the Dark Lord wouldn’t win.

He desperately prayed he wouldn’t, for countless different reasons.

“When is this marvellous event?” he asked, still refusing to put a single millimetre of space in between them.

“In three days, on the first. Luna’s absolutely on her last chance, looking for the perfect dress that won’t attire Wrackspurts,” he commented, shaking his head. Something inside of Blaise told him that it wasn’t the first nor the second time they went out shopping and, if Lovegood was anything like Pansy, it must have not been an easy task chaperoning. Pansy Parkinson could try on an entire street of boutiques, buy every single item of her size, and still lament she had nothing to wear.

“Why? Wanna meet up? I thought we were going for lunch on the second,” Neville added, pulling him out of the horror of the memory of the first time that witch had discovered French Haute Couture: a tornado would’ve left behind less damage.

“Yeah, I’ve been invited to Draco’s for dinner on the first, with all the others…” he trailed off, remembering exactly what had been discussed the previous night amongst the Death Eaters. It wasn’t unusual for Draco and Theo to invite him over, especially since they both believed he was fully on the Dark Lord’s side but was merely acting precious, never truly giving in. And he couldn’t deny an invitation, otherwise it would have looked suspicious. After all, his friends knew that he was staying all alone in London, away from his family, and that he wasn’t fooling around with anyone, which, in their eyes, meant he had a lot of free time.

Free time that they tried to occupy, not wanting to leave him completely alone. Thankfully, they weren’t overbearing, having him over every couple of days or so, respecting his privacy, but whenever an invitation came, he had to follow through.

Now, he couldn’t exactly tell his friends: “No, I’ll pass on spending time with you, I’m going to go watch muggle entertainment with my Gryffindor boyfriend,” could he?

Luckily for his relationship, though, the invites were rather old fashioned, called days prior, and that left him and Neville plenty of time to organize. The only person in their friend group that liked to show up uninvited or unannounced by an owl was Pansy, but she would’ve stayed in Spain until the mid of August, which meant Blaise could breathe a little without having to worry about her finding out his secret. Draco and Theo were way too busy in their official Death Eater work to even want to hang out with him in the mornings and afternoons anyway.

“What is it, B?” Neville asked, undoubtedly feeling the way his shoulders had tensed from up close. His hold on Blaise became slightly tighter, grounding and real, while still remaining gentle, letting him know that they were alright and, no matter what happened, they’d be okay.

Closing his eyes and leaning against his boyfriend’s shoulder, he began to recount what he had eavesdropped: “When I was at Theo’s last night, his father and his uncle were talking about something that went bad for them the day before, so on the 27th, and how the Dark Lord was more than displeased. All I got were hushed words about a failed kidnapping, I believe, and how the Dark Lord had completely exploded against his followers in anger, even though he had no idea who to even blame and punish. But then his father moved onto a different topic and said that they’d have their victory in a couple of days anyway, that they needed to wait, that they couldn’t lose, that August would be their month of victory. But he didn’t explain what exactly he had meant, without a doubt to keep us ‘children’ in the dark. I couldn’t really understand much, Crabbe had gone off about some bullshit of his and they were speaking in a low voice on the opposite side of the table, but the intent was clear. Something big is about to happen.” “Blaise…”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but they don’t fully trust anyone who doesn’t have the Mark. Besides, they consider us children, even Draco doesn’t know much and he let the bloody Death Eaters into Hogwarts! They know he’s loyal, or at least think so, ‘cause he was at some meetings with the Dark Lord himself. Yet they still don’t tell us shit. Not even to Theo, who’s more of a fanatic than a follower. And I am not going to taint my arm with that disgusting thing anytime soon, even if that would help. But it’s so frustrating and…” he continued, still refusing to open his eyes: he knew he should’ve told that story to Neville earlier, but he had got distracted by their date; he knew he should’ve contacted Professor McGonagall, warning her about what was going on and whose side he was on, but he was terrified he’d be intercepted somehow; he knew he was a terrible spy and that his motive was entirely egotistical, fuelled only by his will to keep Neville safe, and he couldn’t do anything about any of that.

War was coming and Blaise Zabini was powerless against it, unable to do anything concrete.

It wasn’t until he felt warm lips on his forehead and felt warm hands on either side of his face, gently holding him together, that he stopped his rambling. He usually wasn’t like this, letting his mind wander and his mouth running to catch up, at least not in front of other people, because it could potentially be dangerous and could bring unwanted questions. “Rule number eighteen: do not blabber, unless you intend to become a thespian and need practice for monologues,” his mother always said and he preferred to maintain a decent amount of control over the words that came out of him, never going into a rampage, unlike Draco did whenever he messed up his hair, yet never appearing bothered by the simple act of speaking, unlike Theo, who favoured monosyllabic replies to everything. His was always a perfect balance, studied to the last detail to make his speeches and his sentences reach the point and the mind of those who lent him their ears.

Rule number nineteen was: “do not fall in love with a thespian unless they’re a muggle actor from Hollywood,” yet Blaise knew he wouldn’t use that rule. Not anymore and hopefully not ever.

Still, of course, as it had become a routine in his life, everything about him became erratic and unpredictable when he was with Neville. He had found himself digress many times and he was always quite shocked when he realised how far he had gone from his initial path, much to his boyfriend’s delight and amusement. “I like seeing you ruffled,” he had admitted once, earning a copy of ‘Advanced Potion Making’ chucked at his head as they both laughed, with Blaise trying to hide his blushing cheeks.

“Blaise, my love, calm down,” Neville whispered softly against his forehead, hugging him closer and managing to reassure him without wearing him down with his own emotions, “I’m sure everything will be fine. The Order probably knows already that something’s about to happen. Besides, McGonagall’s in there as well, she’s not going to let anything happen, bad or not. Everything will be alright and I’ll come here on the second just like we planned to. You gotta trust me.”

He took a deep, steadying breath as he tried to ground himself back again. Neville’s presence helped greatly, as he had already told the other wizard countless times. “I trust you, more than anyone else,” he admitted, staring straight into his brown eyes as if they could hold all of the Universe’s answers, “But promise you won’t jump headfirst if something happens.” “Of course, I’ll stay home with Grandma as much as I can, when I don’t have my powerful Slytherin around to protect me. Besides, I’m pretty sure You Know Who will stay out of her path, she’s almost as scary as McGonagall!” Neville joked, causing Blaise to shake his head: Gryffindor antics were hard to knock off, it seemed. And, even if he was already wildly intimidated by Augusta Longbottom and she might make the Dark Lord reconsider his career path with her umbrella and her hats, theirs was not a topic to take lightly. “Neville, I’m serious.” “I know.”

Blaise scoffed at that and removed himself from their embrace, allowing space in between their bodies to better convey his message: “I know I can’t make you promise me you’ll stay put, ‘cause you won’t. But can you swear to me that you won’t risk your life recklessly?” he asked, unbothered if some of his desperation seeped into his voice. He knew he could let his walls down around his boyfriend, after all. “You mean like a Gryffindor,” came immediately the reply as Neville crossed his arms over his chest, now that he had the space to do so. “Nev…” “Only if you swear on Slytherin himself that as soon as shit starts to go down, you’ll get to safety,” he intercepted him, stopping Blaise before he could go on another tangent about House Values, “I need to know you’ll be careful.” Blaise nodded at that, he could understand the sentiment: of course his boyfriend would want him safe. But times were darkening by the hour and soon neither of them would probably know what safety even meant.

“Let’s make a deal:” he suggested, already knowing that Neville would agree to his plans, even if they were half-assed ideas about sneaking inside of a muggle library just to study and recreate the ambience of Hogwarts’ own, “usually I’m back from Draco’s around midnight. If nothing happens, we’ll just see each other in the morning after, as we planned. But if the world ends, meet me here at midnight. Sneak past your grandmother or stun her, since you won’t have to worry about the Trace by then. But just, come here, please.”

“The world’s not going to end, my love. Not on my watch,” Neville said, holding once again both of his hands in his and placing a soft kiss on his thumbs.

With the Gryffindor, it was all about the soft and subtle touches, the small moments. Blaise had dived into their relationship wanting to keep it hidden to avoid uproar by the entire school, yet he had been surprised when Neville hadn’t complained about their subtlety; he had almost expected the dorky plant-head to be the most PDA-indulging being in their entire school and it had been unexpected, yet not unwelcomed, his quiet way of giving affection, even when they were all alone and safe.

“Thank you, my mighty Gryffindor,” he replied with a flourish, pondering the pros and cons of bowing. On one hand, he’d keep up his theatrics that seemed to amuse Neville to no end, but on the other, he’d have to let go of his boyfriend’s hands, which was something he wasn’t willing to do. Neville, as always, resolved his qualm without a second thought: he playfully shoved Blaise away with a push from his hands, before pulling him back closer and making him crash against his torso. “Besides, it’s not like we’re not going to see each other before then! What did you say we would do again…?” Blaise saw right through his feeble attempt at distraction immediately: “Nope, I’m not going to tell you, it’s a surprise!” he exclaimed, placing a placating kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. He had already planned the entirety of their date since he found out the plant-head wouldn’t be free on his birthday: they’d start the day by having lunch at a Chinese restaurant Neville had particularly enjoyed and then they’d move to visit the Royal Botanic Gardens, allowing for them to spend the entire afternoon and evening there, since he already knew very well that his boyfriend would get distracted with every single leaf. And Blaise loved when Neville got side-tracked to talk about plants, even if he didn’t care about the ‘green things’ himself, so it would be a win-win. “Please, B, you know I don’t really like surprises!” he lamented, but Blaise was adamant on his position. “Mio caro, you’ll have to suffer then.” “You’re so mean to me.” Blaise kissed the tip of his nose once more, giggling at the way it involuntarily twitched under his lips: “Yeah, but you love me nevertheless.” What followed was a bad series of sloppy kisses and giggles shared between them as they walked in tandem next to the fireplace, miraculously avoiding tripping over furniture. They knew it was time for Neville to leave, but they were both incredibly reluctant to let go.

“Goodnight, then,” Blaise said, attempting without any real intent to put some space in between them, and he was almost immediately followed by Neville’s own: “Goodnight,” spoken directly against his lips as he removed his hands from around the Gryffindor’s torso, giving a little push to create some distance in between them. “I love you,” Neville sing-sang as he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, waiting for Blaise’s reply before disappearing into the Network. “I love you too, but go before your grandmother decides to murder me for keeping her grandson away from home all the time!”

And with that, Neville Longbottom had gone back home, leaving Blaise alone in the quiet apartment, his laugh still ringing clearly in his ears against the deafening silence. The place always seemed to lose its warmth as soon as his boyfriend left and so he shrugged on a jumper he had ‘borrowed’ from the Gryffindor, without his knowledge and without any real intent on giving it back.

He was not as naïve as Neville was sometimes, still believing that everything would be alright in spite of all the signs pointing to Hell, but he knew that they would be together even if the world did fall off its axis, and that thought warmed him more than any fire could.

And with that, plus the jumper, he tried to fall asleep, ignoring the way his heart pounded at the uncertainty of his future.

But, of one thing only he was certain: he’d stay by Neville’s side and he’d stay at his, no matter what.

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mykind-onmyside · 3 years

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thanks @astrarche-x

name/nickname: Chiara, but you can call me Cler!

gender: I'm a girl, but I really don't get offended over diffeerent pronouns!

star sign: cancer

height: 168 cm

time: 15.32

birthday: 13th of July

favorite bands: The Beatles, Twenty One Pilots, A7x, IDKHow, PTN and some more?

favorite solo artists: Oof I'd say Jack Garratt? It depends, tho...

song stuck in my head: An old italian Pokémon Intro

last movie: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince while cooking lunch!

last show: New Girl (absolutely love this show, might have a lil crush on Nick)

when did i create this blog: Feb/March 2020ish?

what do i post: Mainly my art/ reblog things I like

last thing googled: How to write Pokémon lol

other blogs: @mykindo-cler

do i get asks: nope, but I'm always here if you want to!

why i chose my url: It's a lyric from a Twenty One Pilots song, it means that this is a safe place for me, where I can talk about stuff I like without being judged...only one IRL friend of mine know I've got this blog and I hope no one else will find it

following: 120

followers: 37 here / 711 on @mykindo-cler

average hours of sleep: it depends...I try to stay on a minimum 5/6 hours a day in school days, but sometimes I can't really sleep

lucky number: 9, but I love every number with 3, 6 or 9 in it...the best number in the world is 39, don't ask don't tell

instruments: guitar and ukulele, but still learning

what am i wearing: I'm doing online lessons, so leggings and an old Hard Rock Cafè sweater lol

dream job: comic artist!

dream trip: I want to take the train I used to see everyday while going to school and go to Paris! But I'd really like to visit a lot of places, really

nationality: Italian

favorite song: my all time favourite is While My Guitar Gently Weeps, by Beatles

last book read: Lord Of The Rings

top three fictional universes i’d like to live in: Oh boi...I'd say Wizarding World from HP, Lore Olympus aaaaaand I really don't know, there's a lot lol

tagging everyone who'd like to do it!

#get to know me #heyo

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artemishphm · 3 years

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ARTEMIS LUNA GREY

IDENTITY

Name: Artemis Luna Grey

Nicknames: Temis, Art, Artie, Mis, Moonie, Pip, Honey, Lunetta

Gender: Female

Age: 11 - 17 (in-game, 1984-1991); 47 (present day 2020)

Birth Date: 31st August 1973

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-blood

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Ethnicity: Caucasian/White

Nationality: Half Italian, Half British

Residence: London, England

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ENFJ-A

THE MAGE

1st Wand: Acacia, Unicorn Hair, 12 inches, pliable

Garrick Ollivander found that wands made from Acacia were difficult to match with a wizard. Acacia wands generally refused to produce magic for anyone but their owners, but conversely, seemed to withhold their full power from all but the most gifted wizards.Owners of Acacia wands were generally subtle wizards, as wands made from this wood were generally unsuitable for what Ollivander termed "bangs-and-smells magic".

Wands with unicorn hair cores produced the most consistent magic, were least subject to fluctuations and blockages, were most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts, and were the most faithful of wands. However, they do not make the most powerful of wands (unless the wand wood compensates) and are prone to melancholy if mishandled.

2nd Wand: Laurel, Phoenix feather, 12 inches

A laurel wand cannot perform a dishonourable act, although in the quest for glory (a not uncommon goal for those best suited to these wands), laurel wands have been known to perform powerful and sometimes lethal magic. Laurel wands are sometimes called fickle, but this is unfair; the laurel wand is unable to tolerate laziness in a possessor, and it is in such conditions that it is most easily and willingly won away. Otherwise, it will cleave happily to its first match forever, and indeed has the unusual and engaging attribute of issuing a spontaneous lightning strike if another witch or wizard attempts to steal it.

The Phoenix feather his is one of the rarest core types. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn hair or dragon heartstring cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike.Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won.

Animagus: American Staffordshire Terrier

(Real footage of Barnaby playing with Artemis, Rowan rec)

Misc Magical Abilities:

Parselmouth

Just like her brother Jacob, Artemis is a Parselmouth. She realized she was one when learning about Vipera Evanesca in her fifth year, a snake told her all about his life and she talked with him about her friends.

Seer

Artemis can see the future with her inner eye. She rembers giving prophecies since she was born and how she cried when she couldn’t see her brother’s future anymore, she can’t also see her own future. Artemis hates having prophecies at the most random times (example: when Barnaby was about to kiss her for the first time).

Animagus

Artemis can switch to a dog. She learned to do it with Talbott, even though they aren’t really close. She is not registered in the ministry.

Legilimency

Artemis was born with the ability to read other people’s minds.

Wandless and nonverbal magic

Artemis learned to cast nonverbal and windless magic with Rowan during their second year while they got bored during one of their sleepovers.

Boggart Form: Rowan’s dead body waking up and telling Artemis that it was her fault that she was dead.

Riddikulus Form: Rowan laughing with the fun that she bought with with Artemis

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?) Rain, Cookies, Vanilla and Fire

Amortentia: (What do they smell?) Snow, Shepherd’s pie, Fresh Laundry and a hint of sandalwood

Patronus: Unicorn

Patronus Memory:

Dancing her heart out at the end of the fourth year with all of her friends in the courtyard thanks to a muggle stereo Jae had managed to smuggle in the castle

Mirror of Erised:

She sees her whole family just being there with her smiling, telling her how much they love her.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Flipendo

Episkey

Riddikulus

Depulso

Protego

Colovaria

Arresto Momentum

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim: Amanda Arcuri

Game Appearance:

Height: 5′5 (169 cm)

Weight: 110 lbs

Physique: Slim

Eye Colour: Green

Hair Colour: Natural: brown, but she changes it every two weeks

Skin Tone: Ivory

Body Modifications:

Her mother pierced her ears when she was born. During her years at Hogwarts she got a lot of other piercings on her ears.

She got a septum when she was 15

She also has a small sun stick & poke on her wrist. She got it with Rowan when they were 13 & bored. Rowan has a moon in the same place.

Scarring:

She has small scars on her fingers due to failed spells

She also had a scar on her lower belly but she doesn’t remember how she got it.

Inventory: (what do they carry on them?)

Popcorn (”you always have to be ready to watch Merula fail at duels”), her mother’s necklace, candy, eye-liner, one of Barnaby’s rings and a dugbomb (”just in case”)

Fashion:

Converse are a must, she’s always wearing them (even when she shouldn’t). During the weekdays when she is not wearing her uniform you can find her sporting an old hoodie and some sweats around the castle. When she’s outside or on special occasion she has a 90s style,

I’ll link her Pinterest style board here once I do it.

ALLEGIANCES

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Affiliations/Organizations: The Grey family, The circle of Khanna, House of Gryffindor, British Ministry of Magic, Order of the Phoenix

Professions:

Gryffindor prefect (1988-1991)

Auror (1992-present day)

HOGWARTS INFORMATION

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: Outstanding

Charms: Outstanding

DADA: Outstanding

Flying: Exceeds Expectations

Herbology: Outstanding

History of Magic: Outstanding

Potions: Outstanding

Transfiguration: Outstanding

Electives:

Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding

Divination: Outstanding

Muggle Studies: Acceptable

Quidditch: TBD

Extra Curricular:

-Duelling Club

Favourite Professors:

Minerva McGonagall

Severus Snape

Sybilla Trelawney

Silwanus Kettleburn

Least Favourite Professors:

Patricia Rakepick

RELATIONSHIPS

Brother:

Jacob Apollo Grey

He used to be Artemis’ best friend, but after his disappearance she couldn’t help but think that their bond would never be the same

Father:

Xavier Grey

Xavier left when Artemis was 3. He never came back.

Mother:

Jennifer Bane

A very cold woman, she never know how to show her love to Artemis. After Jacob left she became verbally abusive towards her daughter.

Love Interest:

Barnaby Lee

Penny Haywood (one-sided love, 1985)

Best Friends:

Rowan Khanna

Jae Kim

Nymphadora Tonks

Tulip Karasu

Penny Haywood

Rival:

Merula Snyde

Ismelda Murk

Andre Egwu (friendly bc of quidditch)

Enemy:

Patricia Rakepick

Acromantula

Dormmates: (Who’s in your MC’s dorm with them?)

Rowan Khanna

Skye Parkin

Barnaby Lee (when he doesn’t get caught, sneaked in)

Pets:

Niffler named Plato

Abraxan named Achilles

Fairy named Roger

Closest Canon Friends:

Badeea Ali

Charlie Weasley

Bill Weasley

Liz Tuttle

Skye Parkin

Murphy McNully

Closest MC Friends:

Lizzie Parker ( @lizzieparkerhphm)

Luna Powell (currently 2nd year, one of my MCs)

If u wanna be friends with Artemis just dm me! I’d love to!

PERSONALITY

Artemis is kind, loyal and funny. She’s a bit bossy sometimes but she always everyone’s best interests at heart. She would literally do anything for her friends. She’s really impulsive and that often puts her in very dangerous situations. She’s also really smart.

MISC

Artemis started dying her hair during her second year, after Tonks pulled prank on her and put dye in her shampoo. She loved so much her green hair that she decided to always change her hair color (Colovaria helped, a lot too)

None’s ever seen Artemis with the same hair color for more that three weeks. Her friends often don’t recognize her from behind when she has a new dye

Artemis and Tulip throw the best parties. They got caught only once.

There’s an unwritten rule at Hogwarts, what happens at their parties stays in their parties.

Artemis loves muggle music, especially Queen and David Bowie.

Even though Snape is always pretty harsh, he’s one of her favorite professors (and deep down he has a soft spot for her).

Rowan and Skye found her during OWLs week at three am crying her heart while singing “love of my life” to a piece of paper where she had written “outstanding OWLs” and a bowl of ice-cream, probably stolen from the kitchen. They never talked about it.

Artemis is in love with the moon. She doesn’t know why, but she’s always felt connected to it. That’s why you can often find her in the astronomy tower just staring at the moon.

She ofter sneaks Barnaby in her room because the feeling of his arms around her helps her ease her nightmares and, when she has her visions, he’s able to calm her down almost instantly.

When Rowan died, he slept with her for two months. None of the professors said nothing.

Thanks to @hogwartsmystoryfor the template <3

#hphm #Harry Potter Hogwarts mystery #hogwats mystery #mc #hphm mc #character template #finally #jacob’s sibling #hphm jacob

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midnightiscoming-kasabian · 5 years

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Kasabian's Serge Pizzorno: 'Being pretentious is my number one fear'

Tim Jonze - www.theguardian.com - Photo: Neil Bedford

2 Sep 2019

He’s the lairy lad rocker who scored one of the best ever goals on TV – in winklepickers. Now he is aiming to be music’s answer to David Lynch

Serge Pizzorno is looking back at the rise of his band Kasabian and trying to pinpoint when it all became a bit too much.

“You’d turn up at shows and there’d be 20-odd trucks there, a catering team, loads of people everywhere,” he says. “And you’d think, wow, this is actually a job for a lot of people, and it all rests on these four maniacs!”

This was in 2017: the band had just completed their sixth album, For Crying Out Loud, released to mixed reviews, and all was not well in camp. After 20 years together, Pizzorno was worried the band were getting stuck in a rut. And then there was the personal turmoil: not for songwriter Pizzorno, who had settled into family life in Leicester (he has two boys, Ennio and Lucio), but for Tom Meighan, the band’s wild-eyed frontman.

Mimicking their idols Noel and Liam Gallagher, Pizzorno wrote the songs while Meighan brought the stage presence, preposterous quotes (“Our songs sound like we’ve shit ourselves 10,000 feet in the air”) and ludicrous tales. Band legend had it that, whenever Meighan became too much to handle, the other members had to take him to the nearest Toys R Us store to calm him down. But following a split from his partner, the relentlessly upbeat singer was struggling. He cried in one interview at the time.

“Tom’s still figuring things out, but he’s in a much better place now,” says Pizzorno when we meet for coffee in London. But it’s no wonder they needed time out. “I was worried we would get stale. Sometimes you need to go down the rabbit hole to refresh things.”

The SLP is that rabbit hole. It’s his initials – his full name is Sergio Lorenzo Pizzorno – and the name of his forthcoming solo album, recorded at his home studio, the Sergery (yes, really). With its guest appearances from Little Simz and Slowthai, and wild eclecticism, it’s reminiscent of Gorillaz – a cartoonish world constructed as an escape from the pressures of being in an enormous band.

Pizzorno sees it less as a new direction and more a return to the way he started off making music. Back then he was using an old Atari and a Midi keyboard; these days he’s been recording on his phone, stealing snippets from 70s Italian horror movies, “weird Polish shit”, and whatever grabs his attention when he’s out and about.

“I’ll be in Tokyo, hear the buzz of the electricity running through the pylons, and be like...” he waves his phone in the air, as if frantically trying to record the sound. “All my mates will be taking the piss. And even in my own head I’m thinking, ‘I’m never gonna use this.’ But this time I did.”

Indeed, the buzzing pylons make it into The Wu, an incredibly odd song about wandering through hotel corridors in search of the afterparty. It’s a case study in Pizzorno’s esoteric influences, from the South African disco label Heads and Lee “Scratch” Perry to the late Nigerian synth wizard William Onyeabor. Elsewhere there’s Mediterranean house (Nobody Else), mariachi meltdowns (Meanwhile … in the Welcome Break) and, in ((trance)), the kind of joyously anthemic track that wouldn’t sound out of place in, well, a Kasabian set.

Did the rest of the band not think: can’t we have a couple of these tunes? “It’s probably testament to why we’re still together that they didn’t mind,” says Pizzorno. “Tom understands that you need to explore what else is out there. Otherwise you become the band everyone expects you to be.”

The irony is that Kasabian have never been the band a lot of people think they are anyway. When they emerged in the early 00s, with electro-influenced rock anthems such as Clubfoot and LSF, they were stereotyped as lairy lad rockers, when in reality they were just as enamoured by hip-hop and acid house.

“On our first record I would wanna sit people down and go, ‘No, no, no – this is where we were fishing for that stuff, Can and Neu! or whoever. But whatever we said, the journalist would just ask us about the Happy Mondays. I soon realised it was best to just keep your mouth shut, because if you’re still able to make albums and art, who cares where it comes from anyway?”

I interviewed the band a few times back then and always found them far kinder and more erudite than they were portrayed (“On the road carnage with rock’s rowdiest band!” screamed one NME cover line). But it’s fair to say, with their wild tales and boasts, they played up to it.

Was the lad thing a bit of an act? “We knew that journalists wanted it,” says Pizzorno. “But at the same time, we did grow up where, if you wanted to be in a band, you had to have your wits about you. If you’re playing in a village pub in Leicester in front of a load of lads that would throw darts at your head for having long hair, you can either go in and be all art school, or you can snap a snooker cue in half and say, ‘Let’s go!’ But then I still wanted to get them in the corner and talk about Jodorowsky afterwards.”

Pizzorno’s lad-rock credentials were no doubt enhanced by two televisual moments: a goal on Soccer AM, in which he improbably flicked the ball up in the air while wearing winklepickers before volleying it into a tiny hoop; and an even better strike during the Soccer Aid charity match that saw him scoop the ball over former England keeper David Seaman’s head and into the top corner of the net. The mention of these acts of sporting glory makes Pizzorno groan: “You’ll work for ages on a piece of music or art that you’re really proud of. But kick a ball through a hole in an inflatable bouncy castle and it’s what you become known for.”

Come on though, which was his favourite goal? “With the Soccer AM one I’d been up all night, I was hanging. If I was sober I’d never have even tried it. But the [Soccer Aid] one … not only is it a great goal, but for five minutes after scoring it, I’ve never been more off my nut in my life. As a pure sledgehammer hit of adrenaline, it was insane. God knows what it would be like to score in a World Cup.”

Less impressive when it comes to lad stereotypes was a cover of Q magazine, on which Meighan and Pizzorno appeared alongside two naked ladies, something that even back in 2011 looked like a relic of a bygone era. Pizzorno groans again, but this time he means it. “That really kills me,” he says. “It was sold to us as Jimi Hendrix, Electric Ladyland, a celebration of 60s psychedelia. But we learned an important lesson there – we need to take control over every element.”

Pizzorno says the band have always been more inclusive than people give them credit for. “Art can be the start of something. At [Kasabian’s] gigs you only have to look at the first few rows to see there’s people from all over the world, with completely different views on how things should be done, but at least we’ve got them together.”

There’s a song on The SLP that addresses this, the final track Meanwhile … in the Silent Nowhere. “It’s about communication,” says Pizzorno. “Previously, even if you were rightwing or had extreme views, it felt like there could be some sort of dialogue where you could at least hear each other’s stories. Now it feels like, ‘This is my belief, fuck you’ ... there’s a danger in us not sitting down and talking face to face.”

What does he think of the current political situation? “It’s like Vegas. Fundamentally, the system is rigged and whatever you implement, the outcome will be the same. You’re probably talking revolution here but we need someone to come along and start again.” Is Jeremy Corbyn that person? “He’s the best shot we’ve got ... but I think there’s more. There’s someone else out there that can marry spirituality [with politics] and break the system and get us to start again somewhere better.” He laughs: “I think I’m just waiting for the messiah.”

Right now, Pizzorno has more pressing problems than the overthrow of capitalism: how to be a musician without Meighan by his side. He’s planned an impressive stage show, with different characters performing each song. It sounds ambitious. “But in a really minimal way,” he stresses. “Not overblown, the opposite to lasers and screens. It won’t be pretentious. Pretentious is my number one fear.”

Will there be costume changes? “Very subtle ones. There might be a hat. I might be barefoot. Fundamentally, I want it to be like a David Lynch thing, where people feel on edge, as if they’ve entered another world for 50 minutes.”

Pizzorno says he knows he can never compete with Kasabian’s enormous gigs – those gigantic, truck-bearing affairs with catering teams and staff everywhere. “But the aim is to get to that same euphoric point,” he says, “just in a whole new way.”

The SLP is out now. The tour starts on 5 September at Glasgow SWG3.

#kasabian #sergio pizzorno #the s.l.p.#interviews #interviews 2019

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cappurrccino · 5 years

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rules: Answer 21 questions and then tag 21 people who you want to get to know better.

tagging: @fractal-odyssey, @soothinghymn, @cormorant-red, @solmicans, @previouslyonstuff, @illumynare, @ir-anuk, @titan-mom, @veta-lopis, @equivalencept, @somebodyisanonymous, @colonel-zuka, & anyone else who wants to steal it!

tagged by @aloyssobek! thanks!! <3

nickname: juri

zodiac: pisces

height: 5′3″

last movie i saw: ender’s game (💕)

last thing i googled: cerealously

favourite musician: for like... radio bands, it’s gotta be imagine dragons. for composers, probably gareth coker

song stuck in my head: one week by the barenaked ladies

other blogs: @kittybrigade / @seawardjuridical / @missouri-and-beyond / @infinity-nine-nine -- a cat blog, an art blog, a photo/travel blog, and a (neglected) halo/b99 blog, respectively

do i get asks: it ebbs and flows, though it feels quieter now

following: 243

amount of sleep: usually between 5 and 8, depending on when i go to bed and how long it takes me to fall asleep

lucky number: any odd ones, but 9 is very nice

what i’m wearing: dark purple jeggings, cute adventurey boots, a flowy white tank top and a flowy mauve sweater. this is what i like to imagine i’d be wearing in a cartoon and i definitely want more clothes like these

dream job: cryptic woodland wizard, but i’ve also had daydreams of like. small sheep farmer who sells wool & crochet crafts & various smoked meats at the farmer’s market

favourite food: my mom’s salmon crepes (and smoked salmon in general)

play any instruments: flute! poorly, now that i’m so out of practice, but the muscle memory is still there. i’d love to learn the hammered dulcimer (which i think i could play in an apartment even)

languages: i weep for languages bc they don’t stick in my head at all. i took a year of arabic in college, which was wonderful and such a lovely language, and occasionally i’ll remember my duolingo italian lessons, but aside from odd words and the ability to sound out letters i only know english :\

random fact: i can recognize people’s faces, but i can’t visualize them

describe yourself as aesthetic things: tank tops, hiking boots, coffee, red rock deserts, freshly baked bread, bookshelves with different sorting themes, i spy books, a dozen half-done projects, cat fur on pants

#//juri speaks #tag games #thanks!!

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ventrue-rosary · 5 years

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Tagged by @shadowraiku. Thanks! :D

Nickname(s): Ams, Snips and uhhh I guess Ly counts cuz I’ve not legally changed my name

Zodiac: Aries. I’m a horny gal

Last Move I Saw: Into the Spiderverse , which is freaking amazing

Last Thing I Googled: Resident Evil 2 Remake One-Shot Demo guide (I got stuck)

Favourite Musician/Band: I never really have favourite bands, not long-term anyway. Right now it Lordi though

Song Stuck In My Head: Massive Addictive by Amaranthe

Other Blogs: Not rly

Do I Get Asks: Every now and again, but not as many as I’d like

Following: 629

Followers: 866

Lucky Number: 9

What I’m Wearing: Black leggings, grey critical role t-shirt and a zelda hoodie

Dream Job: Campaign writer for Wizards of the Coast

Dream Trip: Tokyo!!!

Play Any Instruments: I tried to learn guitar but I didn’t have the patience for it

Languages: English, a smidge of French and Japanese and an even smaller smidge of Italian

Favourite Songs: Uhhh this changes weekly but right now my top faves are POP/STARS by K.DA, Sexorcism by Lordi, The Dark Gift by Satyrian and Ravenlord by Mystic Prophecy

Describe Yourself As Aesthetic Things: Rolling storm clouds, half-full coffee mugs, black lace, bloodshot eyes and misty forests

Tagging @havingsecondthots, @that-one-autistic-nerd, @pyrotheatrics, @glittercleric and @deeisace

#tagged #about me

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post-mortem-lullabies · 2 years

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Emil’s Wizarding AU because it’s been sitting in my drawer for years and apparently this AU is trending again

Emil is of mixed ancestry. Her father: an orphan raised in Scotland. Her mother: half Italian, half Canadian. Emil was born during their stay in the UK but grew up in a small village in Canada where wizards lived together with muggles aware of magic (their brothers or aunts were muggle-born wizards).

Emil's a pureblood wizard, and her family from the mother's side is rumoured to have an affinity to water, but no one is sure whether it was that her ancestor was a selkie, kelpie, mermaid or a nymph.

She is/was a student in Hogwarts and is in Hufflepuff (the Hat considered putting her in the Slytherin but put her in Hufflepuff upon Emil's request; why did she ask? because yellow and black are Emil's favourite colours)

Emil is a good student. She catches on quickly, submits her homework on time and generally behaves well- Well enough that teachers are willing to turn a blind eye to some of her antics. Or to her odd tendency to use enchanted versions of muggle items. Instead of drinking from a goblet, she carries around a cup with a lid and a straw she enchanted to not spill. Instead of quill and parchment, she uses mechanical pencils and paper. Instead of scrolls, she keeps her notes in a binder.

Favourite subjects: Alchemy, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration.

As an adult, Emil settled in a small town in UK and works as a blacksmith, creating things both for the wizards and muggles.

#[blog organisation]

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thecalebwidogast · 7 years

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i was tagged by @imlornadane my twin <3

five things you’ll find in my bag:

Nail file, mini hairbrush, Spider-Man wallet, earbuds, and Hemp chapstick (highly recommend it for ppl with chapped lips - check it out at The Body Shop).

five things you’ll find in my bedroom:

Stacks of books, basket of unfolded laundry, posters, notebooks, and jewellery.

five things i’ve always wanted to do:

Bungie jump, go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, be a mermaid (irl), travel the world, and go on Ellen Degenerous.

five things that make me feel happy:

Music, my dogs, hugs, realistic dreams (of happy things obvs), and Spider-Man: Homecoming.

five things i’m currently into:

Logic (him + his music), simplynailogical, HOLO, Samsung Galaxy Note 8, and my new Ravenclaw scarf.

five things on my to-do list:

Fold my fucking laundry jfc it’s been weeks, get my god damn eyebrows done, buy new clothes for work, order a 23&Me DNA kit, and buy Wonder Woman on DVD.

1. nicknames? Brelle (with a purposefully terrible Italian accent - long story lol), um puppy/pups, and that’s it really. 2. gender? Under construction. 3. star sign? Gemini 4. height? 5′4 5. time? 9:32 PM 6. birthday? May 29th 7. favourite bands? Echosmith, Foo Fighters, Two Door Cinema Club, Imagine Dragons, Arctic Monkeys, The Neighbourhood, Marianas Trench, Little Mix 8. favourite solo artists? Ed Sheeran, Ruelle, Niall Horan, Logic, Ariana Grande, Ruth B, Petit Biscuit, Kesha, Hayley Kiyoko, probs more I can’t think of rn 9. song stuck in my head? Couldn’t Believe - Broods 10. last movie you watched? House Bunny 11. last show you watched? Friends 12. when did i create my blog? July 12th 2012 13. what do i post? A fuckshit of trash. 14. last thing i googled? 5′4″ in inches (ordering smth in custom size lol) 15. do you have other blogs? 15 sideblogs lol. 16. do you get asks? No 17. why did you choose your url? I love MJ Watson and Michelle ‘MJ’ from Homecoming so I typed it in since it looked aesthetically pleasing (starting and ending with a J) and yeah. 18. following? 230 19. followers? I’ve been stuck between 480-490 for almost a year. 20. favourite colours? I am incapable of choosing. 21. average hours of sleep? 6-7 depending on when I wake up, but that’s not including the naps I take sometimes. 22. lucky number? 13 and 29 23. instruments? Lol I can play the chorus of Careless Whisper on the piano and the first verse of Speak Now on the guitar but that’s it. 24. what am i wearing? Sweatpants and a sweater. 25. how many blankets i sleep with? Uno 26. dream job? I wish I fucking knew. 27. dream trip? A tour of all the places I want to travel to lol. 28. favourite food? Whatever I’m craving. 29. nationality? Canadian but ethnically Italian (that’s it lol). 30. favourite song now? Half The World Away - AURORA

i tag (but you have no obligation to do this): @tomhollandsboyfriend @thecutelittlebow @hufflepuffholland @cloud9is007

#personal-ish

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drjackandmissjo · 4 years

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firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine

you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Chapter 10 --- previous chapter

Harry Potter fics Masterlist

For the first time in a long time, Blaise was late to something important.

Not fashionably late, in those cases he planned ahead to the exact second to make his grand entrance and charm the socks off everyone. No, this time he was terribly late out of coincidence, a mix of bad luck and a lot of words that came out of Theo’s mouth, despite his favour of briefness.

He had been intercepted by his roommate just after the funeral, a sharp tug at his sleeve that gave no room for interpretation, as Theo led the way to a more secluded area of the country yard, which was, surprisingly enough, empty. ‘Probably everyone is going to Hogsmeade’ Blaise reasoned as he followed his friend in silence, neither of them uttering a word.

When they reached their destination, the blond began his speech. Theo had used more words trying to make him understand the reasons behind his acceptance of his father’s Death Eaters’ legacy and the subsequent joining of said organization, and why it would be beneficial for such a promising Pureblood Slytherin like Blaise himself to follow along the Cause, especially in their current time and date, than he had ever used on an essay he had been truly passionate about.

Blaise had to admit that Theo brought up some valid points: Dumbledore was the only thing standing in the way of the Dark Lord, and now that he was dead, there was no one stopping him from gaining his so desperately sought after power. First Hogwarts and then the Ministry would fall under him, making it impossible to find a safe haven for anyone who dared to oppose him.

Yet had been raised in families that didn’t follow along dictatorships, with his father being the exception, the black sheep. His Grand-père fought against Grindelwald when he came to France rather actively, opposing the Dark Wizard and telling little Blaise all the stories from the résistance, and his Nonno had always told him all about Italian Muggle Politics during the Wars, and they never ended well for the Fascist regime.

And he remembered all too well the look on his mother’s face whenever he brought the subject up. The Dark Lord had ruined his family and Blaise would not fall prey to him as well.

When Theo finished talking, looking drained of all the energy he had ever had, yet proud for some twisted reasons, Blaise had to control himself and prevent the laughter that was threatening to erupt out of him. Nott must’ve thought that he had given some rational points, but his words did the exact opposite of what was intended for them: if nothing, they fortified the knowledge that the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord would be on the wrong side of their History. He just hoped that his friend would see the error of his way before it was too late.

Instead of answering, he simply nodded once in understanding, keeping his opinions to himself. The entire situation was downright hilarious.

Blaise had thought, at the beginning of the year, that Draco was the more brainwashed of the pair, yet, after the Death Eaters attacked, he and Pansy had found a letter from the blond on his bed, all of his belongings gone and the room missing one of its five members. In that letter, Draco explained them what in Salazar’s name had happened.

How the Dark Lord had forced him to find a way for his followers to penetrate the castle, how he had been ordered to kill Dumbledore, how they gave him the Dark Mark and how he had accepted it all to protect his family. His father would’ve been tortured, Draco claimed, and his mother killed, if he didn’t follow the Dark Lord’s wishes. He didn’t want to do it, none of it. But he still did as he was told, he repaired an old and broken Vanishing Cabinet that was in the Room of Requirement and he made sure it linked back to one identical one, that still worked, in Borgin and Burkes and made sure it was a safe passage for the Death Eaters. He had worked on it the entire year, he claimed, as to explain why he didn’t pay attention to the classes anymore. He then went on, to their present, on how it was all going to go down that night. How he was supposed to kill Dumbledore and then flee. How Snape would’ve taken control of the school and how things would have changed, all starting with that night.

Blaise had been in shock as he read his friend’s words, with Pansy in a similar state.

They both knew that Draco had been tasked with something big, that he was working in secrecy and that he didn’t really want to do any of it, yet still did. But that wasn’t an excuse, nor that letter was an apology. Draco needed someone he trusted to know the truth and to also be able to claim that he did all of that without his will, that he had been forced.

Draco Malfoy did not look for redemption, he looked for an alibi. He didn’t follow the Dark Lord’s orders because he was a loyal and faithful servant, he did it because he was forced. And he had left records of it.

Theo, on the other hand, was the opposite. He had been blinded by his father’s beliefs, he had joined the Death Eaters because that had been the only thing he had been taught since he was born. To hate, to be superior, to be a Pureblood. As soon as the attack was over, he had marched into the Slytherin common room, exalted and high off adrenaline. He had yelled that Dumbledore was dead, eliciting contrasting reactions from his House mates. People had screamt, both in glee and agony, joy and fear. The common room was divided in those whose parents and relatives had been and were still favouring the dark side, and thus had taught them that way, and in those who didn’t want anything to do with the Dark Lord and his bigotry. And, in the midst of it, stood Theodore Nott, drunk on the scene, mentally tallying the reactions, staring expectantly at him with blown wide eyes, waiting for a smile of acknowledgment.

But Blaise couldn’t smile, couldn’t agree with the atrocities that were being committed. All he knew was that Dumbledore being dead meant that Hogwarts wasn’t a safe space anymore. Not only for those who opposed him openly, like Saint Potter and company, but also not a safe space for those who would prefer to remain neutral to the fight.

Not that he would’ve been, neutral to the fight.

Once again, days later, he stood in front of Theo, who was waiting for his reply when Blaise could do nothing but stare.

“I know you will do what’s right” Theo said, taking his silence as an agreement into the Death Eater’s path. In his mind, Blaise could not let the irony go. He would do what was right, by not joining the murderous tyrant and his sycophantic followers. He would do what was right, by fighting against the atrocities that they would commit and had committed. He would do what was right by not following into the trap that was clearly laid ahead of him.

He would do what was right because he was a Slytherin, Salazar Damn Them All, and he was way too intelligent and proud to fall along mindlessly the plan of a villain whose sole purpose was to bring back the Dark Ages of Magic.

But he still didn’t reply. ‘Rule number thirty-six: a vague silence is the best weapon when you don’t want to say something.’

He just nodded along, wordlessly leaving Theo and walking back into the castle, slower than he intended, as if in a trance.

He knew that Neville was waiting for him in the Transfiguration classroom, after all, he had been the one to send the Gryffindor the owl, not caring anymore about who knew about them. Thankfully, though, no one paid attention to the inconspicuous bird that left a letter right on Neville’s plate, nor did he open it in the Great Hall.

He had been brief, only telling him to meet him there as soon as Dumbledore’s funeral was over, yet he knew Neville could read the desperation in between the lines: they were running out of time, the school year was completed and there was no certainty that they would be back the next year. Blaise probably would’ve, considering he was a Slytherin and his best friends were all apparently Death Eaters, but he knew that Neville, Valiant, Brave and Selfless Neville, would fight alongside whoever was on their opposite side.

Since the night of the attack, which had been dubbed the ‘Battle of the Astronomy Tower’ by the students, they had managed to see each other less than they had both hoped, only once, with the help of Lovegood and Pansy.

It had happened on July 1st, all exams and the remaining classes had been postponed, the students allowed to remain in the castle to give their final goodbyes to their Headmaster. The tension between the Houses had been at its highest, and no one wanted to be around Slytherins, which was understandable but still hurtful.

Nobody cared about why he had left the common room just after lunch that day, not with Pansy loudly telling him that she’d meet him there, to just go ahead. He had slowly nodded and all but ran all the way to the History of Magic classroom, fearing that he wouldn’t be there or that he wouldn’t show up.

They had planned the little rendezvous just the day before, because the final exam of Transfiguration was coming and Neville had slipped into a panicked state and Blaise were there to comfort him and give him the boost of confidence he deserved. But then the attack happened and the entire world shifted on its axis.

He had seen, both at breakfast and lunch, that Neville was visibly distressed and that he had even refused to meet his gaze, but that was expected. After all, a bunch of idiots that brought shame down Salazar’s good name had killed their Headmaster and ruined their final days.

Except that it was not expected, because he was Neville, and he was the only person in the entirety of Hogwarts that knew how far ran Blaise’s disdain for the Dark Lord’s work. He could not vent into the Slytherin common room, surrounded by sons and daughters and nieces and nephews and grandchildren of all sorts of Death Eaters. He could not complain in his dormitory, with four out of the five people living there committed, willingly or not, into that lifestyle.

But he could always talk to Neville, he could always listen to the Gryffindor talk about pots for hours to end without being bored, while simultaneously taking his mind off the situation.

He prayed to Merlin’s soul that Neville wouldn’t back down from him now.

Thankfully for his sanity, he was there, just about to enter the classroom they both know would be empty. Not bothering to check if someone was nearby, he had ran to the other boy, smacking him into the still closed door and fitting his head in the crook of his neck while his arms clang desperately to the Gryffindor’s waist.

“B, someone might see us” he had said, but the corridor was empty and Blaise didn’t care anymore. ‘Let them’ he had wanted to say, but instead he had just nodded along. It would be irrational, nay nearly suicidal, to come out of the shadows now. If Hogwarts hadn’t been ideal before, it would be even less now.

As soon as they were inside, the door closed behind their backs, Neville had resumed their position, locking lips with Blaise’s, the kisses desperate and frantic. Blaise, as always whenever Neville kissed him, couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t the boy next to him, that was pushing him hard against a desk and that was ravishing him like that.

But Neville’s body had been silently shaking with sobs, his lips trembling as he held onto Blaise for stability. Soon, the tears had come and Blaise was now holding him close, whispering sweet nothing into his hair as he smoothed down his hands over his back, comforting him.

“Sorry” Neville had then whispered, drying up his eyes and sitting down, his hands never leaving Blaise’s.

“Do not apologise for feeling, Nev.” He had brushed his thumb over the back of his hand, a soothing gesture that they had shared many times, in way less stressful situations. “How are you holding up?” “Hellish. The entire House’s broken. Harry is a bloody shell, I saw Ginny break down twice, even McGonagall’s not working.” Blaise had flinched at that: he knew that Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore were close, but he couldn’t imagine how devastated she was. And if she wasn’t ‘working’, as Neville had put it, it meant that Hogwarts was doomed, for good.

“This is bad, B, proper bad.” “I… I’m so sorry” he exhaled, putting his head down on his palms, hiding the shame that was visible on his features. A dozen what ifs rushed over his head. He should’ve seen this coming, he suspected something bad was about to happen, after all. But he could never imagine, in his worst nightmares, the gravity of Draco’s actions.

He couldn’t even imagine Draco to be capable of such villainy.

Neville, it seemed, had found amusing his distress. “Why are you apologising? Taking up on my habit? You’ve done nothing wrong!” “Au contraire, I did nothing” he had said, softly and ashamed, “I knew Draco had been up to something wicked, yet I did nothing. I should’ve… I don’t know, report him or something, all those times he sneaked out to repair that fucking wardrobe and shit like that. Porca puttana, I’ve been so blind. I… Just because he’s my friend, I let him get away with all this. And now we’re all paying the consequences of his cowardice… mi dispiace, Nev, It’s all my fault…” “Do not, under any circumstances, say that again” Neville had calmly spoken, with a voice so impassive and cold that it simultaneously froze Blaise’s blood and made it boil up. Then, he had softened his gaze and had seated down next to Blaise, his turn to be the comforting one: “It is so not your fault. Don’t you dare say it is. How could’ve you known what was really going down? It’s only You-Know-Who’s fault, all of this, since the beginning.” “But Draco…” “You’re not responsible for his idiotic actions. He made his choices, but you have made yours as well.”

Neville had left no room for argument, nor that there would’ve been any. Neville knew what was inside Blaise’s heart, truly, and that was all that mattered.

Afterwards, they had not done much talking, leaving threads hanging as they rolled happily on the floor, uncaring about the storm that was raging outside of their little personal bubble.

To Blaise it had felt too much like an empty goodbye and he could not live with himself unless he rectified his actions and properly made Neville understand that he would be on his, their, side, no matter how much it would hurt him to betray his friends.

But they had stabbed him first: it would start with Muggles, then it would be Muggleborns, then everyone who didn’t conform with the Dark Lord’s ideas, and, no matter how much of a Pureblood he was, he would always be marginalized by his personal preferences and the colour of his skin.

He moved quickly through the castle, for once the stairs not moving when they were not supposed to, and he finally reached his destination.

Steadying his rushing heart, he opened the door, finally breathing without a heavy weight on his lungs now that he saw Neville, causally seated on one of the desks, hair and tie askew. When he saw Blaise, he broke out in a blinding smile, so at odds with the circumstances.

Blaise could do nothing but follow suit, his own lips stretching happily as he moved closer and kissed him, still seated.

“What did you think of the funeral?” Blaise asked, not removing his mouth from his favourite spot on Neville’s neck, a place that elicited such sweet sounds that Blaise could not resist.

“It was a nice funeral” came the breathless reply, rushed and hushed and followed suit by one of those little noises. “Agreed. Not gay enough though.”

Neville then tangled his hands on Blaise’s hair, that had now grown longer than he wanted it to and was curling over his ears. “B, nothing’s gay enough for you.”

He moved slightly away, unwilling to remove himself from their hug yet needing to, to convey his meaning properly: “He was the most flamboyant wizard in history! Look me in the eye and tell me that he was straight.”

Neville snorted at that, shaking his head slightly and resting his forehead over Blaise’s, “My grandma said he his longest ‘friendship’ was with Grindelwald and he didn’t fight him initially due to a ‘blood pact’. So yeah, not straight, that’s a given.”

“See!? It was so disrespecting of them to give such a straight eulogy…!”He couldn’t finish his sentence, not when Neville had cut him off so sweetly by mirroring his earlier action. All Blaise could do was to hold on tightly at Neville’s red and golden tie, closing his eyes and savouring the movements the Gryffindor was making with his mouth over his neck.

But he was a man with a mission, Merlin Damn It, and he should’ve follow through. As usual, he never took in consideration the simple fact that Neville rendered him speechless and useless with a single glance, thus ruining all his monologues.

With his entire being screaming at him, he removed himself for the second time in a few minutes, his body aching for the contact.

“I didn’t write you to meet me just to snog” he said, not his proudest choice of words, yet once they were out there was nothing he could do to take control over them. At least, they managed to convey the message, or at least a part of it.

“I figured as much” Neville calmly admitted, patting the empty spot next to him on the desk “What’s wrong? We agreed we’d have to keep a low profile and that we’d see each other after school was over.” “It already pretty much is over and I can’t get on the train without properly goodbye.” “Isn’t the mark I left on you enough goodbye?”

“Nev!” he yelled outraged, a rose colour starting to spread over his cheeks as he looked over at the smug Gryffindor, who calmly replied, without missing a beat: “Blaise, we already planned on seeing each other in Muggle London. We don’t need to ‘proper goodbye’!”

He would never admit, not even under torture, that he might not be ineffable and that he might have forgotten their plans, in the heat of the murder. “Are we still doing that?” he asked, cautiously staring at the floor to avoid Neville’s eyes. “You-know-who can’t keep me from going out on a date with my boyfriend!”

Blaise was now sure he looked akin a tomato. He was utterly unable to process Neville’s words without blushing.

They had agreed on being exclusive since the beginning of their relationship, but never dwelled on terms of endearment, mainly due to Blaise’s refrain from using them due to his mother’s rule. Yet, after they had both professed their feelings after their idiotic fight, Neville had brought up the subject of calling him ‘his boyfriend’. Blaise went, in the span of three seconds, from spent to fully awake, vigorously agreeing.

They did not leave the cupboard closet immediately afterwards, nor in the next half an hour either.

“What are you even gonna do? Fight the Dark Lord over the possibility of holding my hand in a Muggle arena?” he asked once his blood had stopped moving into organs he did not need at the moment. He hadn’t gone there just to shag, after all! “Seamus told me they’re called cinema” Neville corrected him. Those were the pros of having not one, but three roommates that were so immersed into the Muggle culture. Although he had once shared with Blaise that Saint Potter was not so used to their terms and customs, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone other than Weasley and Granger.

“And, yes” Neville continued, proudly, “that’s exactly what I’ll do. I’m a Gryffindor, that’s what we’re programmed to do!”

He couldn’t control the laughter that erupted out of him. Neville continuously managed to surprise him, especially with one liner like that: the sarcastic and humorous Gryffindor was an endless well of happiness, even in such grim times.

He had been wrong at the beginning, thought, thinking that the Sorting Hat had messed up: Neville did belong in Gryffindor, his morals and disregard of the rules said as much in many occasions. He knew when to stand up for something and when to back down, he was always friendly and kind. But he had a ruthlessness that Blaise could never expect out of him. Not out of sweet, chubby Schlongbottom.

But that was also due to his lack of involvement with him. If he had pulled his head out of his arse sooner, who could tell what would’ve been of either of them.

“I’ll do it too” Blaise said suddenly, after a quiet moment had passed between them. “What?”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and trying to recall the monologue he had prepared before the funeral. He wasn’t even surprised at this point, to find out that all words had suddenly disappeared and that his brain was leaving him to wing his masterfully crafted speech.

“Fighting. I’ll fight too. On your side.” He internally flinched at his poor choice of words, but, once again, they conveyed his intent almost flawlessly. “You want to join the Order?” Neville cautiously asked, as if he was unsure of where Blaise’s words were coming from.

“I don’t particularly want to join shit. But I will do what’s necessary…” “What do you mean?”

He sighed, turning fully and grasping Neville’s hands in his. “I need you to be safe, Neville. I’ll do whatever to keep you safe.” He hoped the Gryffindor would understand him, the desperation he felt at the thought of him hurt, or worse. “When September comes, if the world doesn’t end first… you know I won’t stay put” he said stoically, his jaw clenched and his hands slightly shaking. Blaise covered them with his, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin to bring him understanding and comfort.

“I know and I love you for it, so much. But who protects the Mighty Gryffindor when he’s protecting the world?”

It was Neville’s turn to blush now, but he still maintained his cold demeanour: “So that’s where you come in?” “Think about it. I can be your eyes and ears inside. Theo already thinks I’m being precious and taking my time to become one of theirs” he said, bile raising at the thought of joining the Death Eaters and sadness at the knowledge that two of his closest friends were already lost in that dark path, “It won’t be hard for me to infiltrate.” Neville abruptly removed his hands from his and rose up: “So that’s what you’ll do? Spy for both sides?” he asked, his words laced with venom and what Blaise assumed would be regret. “Don’t be ridiculous, you know those idiots could never convince me to join their racist movement” he said, getting on his feet as well and moving closer to Neville. “I’ll fight for what is right” he simply said, hoping for the Gryffindor to understand him fully.

“Very heroic of you, Slytherin” Neville said, visibly relaxing and showing him away playfully with his shoulder “Very intelligent and cunning I’d say” he chuckled, before taking back his grim conclusion: “Heroes don’t get to live long.”

Neville nodded in agreement, running a hand over his hair and messing it up even further than it already was. It had grown longer in those past months that they had been together, it now reached almost at the base of his neck with soft curls. Blaise had spent countless times with his hands tangled there, never once bringing up the subject of cutting it and never regretting that decision. His own was meticulous and he prided himself on it, but he had grown fond of the dishevelled look Neville constantly had, whether after a discussion of Gamp’s Laws of Elemental Transfiguration or a proper snogging or, in most cases, both.

And Neville’s hair couldn’t look like he had just ran his hands through it if it was short. Or it could, but it wouldn’t elicit the same reaction out of Blaise.

He would be content for eternity, standing happily in that single moment, kissing lazily and then heatedly and fervently. But the world had crashed over them and they had to get back to reality somehow. It was Neville, after some moments spent in the arms of the other, to remind him: “Train leaves in the morning” he simply said, sorrow dripping over his features as Blaise untangled them and took a step back, never once removing his hand from Neville’s. Blaise nodded bleakly, before cheerfully claiming: “I’ll see you next week in London, caro. Don’t forget to write me.”

Just because times were dire now, that didn’t mean that they had to lose their light, right? “I won’t, flower” Neville fired back, winking and causing Blaise’s brain to shortcut momentarily. “I told you to stop calling me like that!” he indignantly yelled, enjoying the way Neville’s laugh warmed his insides and seemed to bring colour to the world. “But you’re so cute when you blush!” He didn’t reply, not really. Blaise simply moved once again closer and planted a soft and chaste kiss on Neville’s lips, savouring the way he still giggled at the softest of actions, even after all the time they had passed exploring each other’s bodies, and imprinting that scene into his memory. ‘Who knows when we will be like this next’ he thought darkly.

He left the room first, conscious that, if it was up to him, he’d never walk away, not from Neville. Closing the door at his back had been almost painful and it left him in a state of somewhat trance.

He walked back to his dormitory in silence, lost deep in his thoughts. He didn’t encounter anyone on his way back and was grateful for it. That left him some necessary time to structure a persona in his mind that would fit the details he had to fake and, if someone stumbled on him walking in an empty corridor grimly, that would meant that Blaise would have to start acting sooner than he had hoped.

With each step he took toward the common room, his conviction strengthened: he would do it, he would spy from the inside and report back to Neville, who would then tell those who needed to know.

He would do what was right, even if it pained him to lie to Draco and Theo and even Pansy. He did not know for sure where her loyalties laid, but he wasn’t willing to bet on them. After all, he had already started to lie to her.

He had told her that they had broken up days ago and she had believed him. His performance had been masterful, he had even managed to throw in a fake tear as he sorrowfully told her that Neville had claimed he ‘just couldn’t be with someone like him anymore’. Given their current circumstances, it could have whatever meaning the witch could imagine, but thankfully she did not ask more.

When he entered the common room, his character was completely mapped out in his mind. He knew how to lie flawlessly and was an excellent actor, and that was going to be his most important role just yet.

Whatever came, he’d do what was right.

THE END

GLOSSARY "Grand-père" and "Nonno" both mean "Grandfather", respectively in French and Italian "Au contraire" is French for "On the contrary" "Porca Puttana" here is akin 'Fuck!" "Mi dispiace" is 'I'm sorry' "Caro" means "Dear"

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shark-myths · 7 years

Text

I was tagged by @beckettsthoughts, which, thank you. <3 <3 <3

RULES: Always post the rules. Answer the questions asked, then write 11 new ones. Tag 11 people to answer your questions, as well as the person who tagged you.

THEIR QUESTIONS

1. What is something you’ve seen in person that you never thought you’d see in person? (E.g. rare or bizarre wildlife, a dream destination, a celebrity)

Literally in a parking lot I saw a raven using salsa. It was dipping its fucking parking lot scavenge food in a little paper cup of SALSA. What the ACTUAL fuck???

2. What book/movie do you keep saying you want to read/watch but know you probably never will?

Let’s be real, I am never going to get through The Silmarillion, I am a low person of low quality

3. What song will you forever associate with school dances or discos?

GET LOW! And also, um, the Cha-Cha Slide. I’m old.

4. What’s your favourite supermarket to shop at? Why is it better than all the others?

Trader Joe’s. It is the fucking best in all ways. They have a lot of random delicious items that I’m in love with, they have the best chocolate, they have my favorite wine and it’s under $4 a bottle, they have dorky cute house brands like “Trader Jose’s” for their Mexican food, I like their red quinoa and dried pineapple and sweetened coconut chips and maple cookies, and there are always samples and you can get produce there that actually has flavor, is affordable, and is not ROTTEN like all the produce in Mississippi. Also a favorite is ALDI, which is super cheap and offers pantry staples $2-3 cheaper than anywhere else and has a lot of types of food that are no longer accessible to me now that we live somewhere without one—like, who can pay $8 for a pack of pancetta for her pizza sauce? Not this dude. At ALDI that shit was $3. The working poor need dried Italian meats too.

5. Do you have any local myths or legends?

CUBA ROAD. It was just this creepy road and if you went down it at midnight you would like, either not come back at all or come back horribly changed. It was Haunted. No one I know who braved it ever saw anything but I also only knew like, one person who dared try. I certainly didn’t.

6. How did you meet your best friend?

ON THE INTERNET READING FANFICTION, that’s actually how I meet almost all of my significant relationships. not even joking. I just give my home address and phone number to strangers on the internet, it’s been working out pretty well the past 14 years

7. Think of the best teacher you ever had at school, what were they like and why were they the best?

to be honest with you, I have completed 24 years of formal fucking education and I have had so many teachers, trying to pick the best one is shredding my heart! I had one teacher for Anatomy who was really passionate and gave us these embarrassing activities like doing autopsies on pickles (she had dressed them up and given them wounds, like toothpick splinters and ball-bearing bullets) and hypothesizing about cause of death; I had an amazing ball-buster history teacher who yelled at me in class once for working on homework for another teacher and from that moment on I adored her; I had a really intelligent professor with really high standards who taught psychopharmacology and I worked the hardest I ever have to do well in his class because I respected him so much; I had a really excitable professor from Luxemborg who I took a “gender benders” in lit and history class with who was amazing and kind to me even though at that point I was too anxious to ever speak; I recently took Medical Anthropology with a greek woman who shouted about politics and biomedicine daily and just thinks about things as a hobby and I want to be her when I grow up and she let me write my entire term paper on how mad I was at sexism in my field of study.

The trends in what I like are: passion/enthusiasm; having high standards; not being nice to me to try to get me to like them. because I’m broken in strange and interesting way the quickest thing a teacher can do to lose my respect is try to make me like them. Like, be kind of a dick to me and then praise me for killing myself on papers to win your approval, that’s all I want.

8. Have you ever had any funny holiday/vacation mishaps?

once when I was interviewing for a graduate school program I was given a hotel room by the school, which was pretty decent of them—they had this weird on-site hotel—and I was all prepared to settle in, had my shit spread all over both beds, when in came the OTHER APPLICANT I was apparently sharing the room with. This was terribly embarrassing. I had an anxiety disorder at the time, was easily embarrassed & soooooo behaviorally inhibited. Anyway, long story short, I forgot to pack pajamas so instead of saying that like a normal person, I just… pretended really casually like I always slept in the same sweater I’d worn all day and wormed out of my jeans under the covers

9. Speaking of holidays and vacations, what are the best and worst holidays you’ve ever been on?

best: the Wizarding World of Harry Potter for my honeymoon, a spring break trip to Toronto, a wedding in Martha’s Vineyard, going to Boulder for the first time and spending a week with @simplydalektable and the way everything was made of sunshine and gold and I didn’t need food or sleep or anything but her

worst: when I was 15 and my parents took me and my half-brothers to a remote cabin in the wilderness with no internet and it was during the days when texting and phone calls like, existed but you had to pay tremendously to enjoy them so they were Outlawed and everyone was tense and mad at each other and bored because like, we are not equipped to socialize who would think locking us all into one room was a good idea; once when I was depressed at Disney World with my mom and all I could think about was how I was supposed to enjoy it more and everyone was mad at me because I was an Angsty Adolescent; these are pretty mild horrors, my life is pretty good

10. Do you collect anything? Did you collect anything when you were younger?

I used to collect comic books with great seriousness! Now I collect band shit and copies of Lord of the Rings, my favorite anything ever. I have 4 editions currently, which is not nearly enough. I collect books in general with fervency.

11. What led you create a tumblr blog, however long ago that may be?

oh my god this is the most me thing ever, but there was an art festival in the town I was living in and some old fucking white dude entered a project that was Commentary On The Youths or some shit and used the selfies of young girls that he took from the internet to criticize millennials for being shallow???? Like, that is a form of cultural appropriation, these girls are growing up in a society that allows them some modicum of control over their own image and they’re using it to explore and define themselves and own their own selves for one fucking moment in their lives, and You, some Gross Old Dude, are just putting your slimy hands in there and like, trying to make a Point about something you can’t possibly understand????? And I was so angry I decided I was going to do my OWN selfie project (I’m in year 2 now; I was daily in year 1 but I’ve been slacking the last six months), so I made this blog, and for the first year I used it only for posting my daily selfies. like every fucking other thing in my life, I created this blog out of pure rage. (someday I will tell you the story of how I became so mad at the field of clinical psychology that I decided to become a clinical psychologist, and somehow powered through 8 years of torturous education on that anger alone)

And for the second part of this, I tag @xabjectlessonsx @crhiscornell @syndestruction @time-less @immoral-crow @we-are-the-weirdos-mister @oceanjade345 and any of you lovelies who would like to!

MY QUESTIONS

1. What is the sickest you’ve ever been and why?

2. What is your favorite thing to drink?

3. What song do you use to deal with your emotions? How does it work—does it suppress them or let you express them?

4. If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, it would be:

5. Favorite myth, legend, or fairy tale?

6. If you had a perfectly self-centered wish you could make, what would you wish for?

7. Tell me about your pets.

8. In your opinion, what is the most perfect record ever made? (Doesn’t have to be your favorite)

9. What’s your favorite thing about space?

10. What are you nostalgic for?

11. List 5 words you think everyone should start using more.

#ask #ask meme #about me #tag a friend

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erunerwynter · 7 years

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About my ocs bc translating my fics apparently has this effect to me

Warning: stupid shit

Kevin - half orc wizard - tried so hard and got so far - grew in a human settlement so that’s why he has a human name - his mother didn’t hate him, which is a good thing - wants to make his mama proud by becoming the best wizard that ever existed - also bc people in his village first and the other students at the Arcanum (the magic academy of the world where all of this is setted in, Gaia) later treated him like shit bc an half-orc wizard? u gotta be kiddin - that why he a Angry SJW™ - gay af but who has time for relationship i goTTA STUDY - he tol - spiky fangs but i love him regardless - my actual son - v paranoid about his spellbook bc at the academy of magic stupid students burned his first spellbook so there’s that - my precious boi pls love him - has an halfling boyfriend, Andrej - a cat person - has a raven familiar bc Aesthetic™ - loves the smell of ink - would have supported Anders in his decision to blow up the Chantry

(putting the rest of them under a read more bc it’s gonna be long)

Andrej - halfling fighter - has a giant wolf named Zero, that often uses as a mount - he smol, he mysteryous - born in a tribe of nomad halflings, where he learned to fight - but then he fucked up big time and was kicked out - worked as a mercenary for a while - one day he found Zero, that was still a pupper, and adopted him - Zero is basically his best and only friend - “doggos are better then people” - has a sister that studies at the Arcanum, she’s a really good wizard - one day he visits her and meets Kevin, his future boyfriend - fights with a rapier bc Aesthetic™ - has a tattoo somewhere - “i will punch you in the dick Kevin” - embodiment of “id sell you to Satan for one corn chip” - he may look like a tough guy but he just needs to be loved - loves being the little spoon - he also gay af

Hòdur - drow alchemist - adopted by a human witch, raised in, like. the islands with the most xenophobic elves of the entire world and still managed to survive - has a stepbrother, an half-elf named Taro, and i will talk abt him later - talk shit abt Taro and he will poison u - “i dont trust all that stupid magic shit” “excuse me r u aware that ur mother is a literal witch” - rlly he just doesn’t have talent for magic so he just. decided that magic is stupid and turned to alchemy - he a Man Of Science™ - “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” - Heterosexual Token™ - worries too much - is willing to Fuck Shit Up - hates loud noises - “why cant you all just leave me aLONE”

Taro - half-elf bard - apparently living embodiment of elves’ perfection - actually a little shit - talk shit abt Hòdur and he will kick u in the teeth - has nicknames for everyone - loves 2 embarass his big bro (bc Hòdur is the big bro) - 5 centimeters (more or less 2 inches for u englishpersons) taller than Hòdur, always reminds that to him - (this annoys Hòdur to no end) - (and that’s why Taro does it) - “so Kevin how do you and Lem do that” “FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS TARO SHUT THE FUCK UP” (that was Hòdur) - sexuality what is that - had a thing with the blacksmith’s son - the bastard has a really smooth voice - would wear the t-shirt that has “Sin” written on it (you know the one) - i love him holy shit

Robin - tiefling maga (the class name is actually magus but Robin is a she so) with the skirnir archetype (the base class equivalent of the prestige class of the Eldricht Knight, but with the archetype that makes her a shield mage basically) - Angst™ - wants to do the right thing and she will do it - her favourite Overwatch character would be Pharah or Reinhardt - she has a shield and she’s not afraid to use it - always stressed af does she even sleep - always hears the voices of her devilish inheritance - praying conforts her a little tho - a very religious person - well she was raised by a priestess of the god of love and compassion, so - yea she was abandoned as a child bc her parents were nobles and you can’t have a tiefling daughter that would be A Bad Thing - so a priestess adopted her and teched her how to be a rlly good person and to protect the innocent - “I BELIEVE IN U o wait did u just killed an innocent now im gonna Fuck You Up™” - “a sex drive what is that where is sex driving does it have a license”

Ume

- sea elf shaman (hybrid class between the witch and the oracle) - like,, indecision but as a person - has an hawk as a familiar wihich is pretty strange bc she is really tied with the spirits of the sea - looks like a cinnamom roll is actually a cinnamom roll - “do you prefer red or blue” “I LOVE BOTH OF THEM U CAN’T MAKE ME CHOOSE” - the kind of fangirl who has way too many ships - likes swimming - except for that one time when she almost drowned she didn’t like swimming in that moment - Moana vibes - yeah u know moana was so good and im so weak that’s why she lives in an island and talks to the sea sometimes - there was that one time when she flirted back at Ikaro and he almost died for the surprise - she was, like, the Best Shaman Apprentice on the island but she wasn’t really sure wheter become shaman or not bc if she accepted her role she wouldn’t be able to see the world - but at the same time she loves her island and her people so - yeah she kinda gets homesick a lot - but she got to see the Arcanum and the big cities and the Moon Mountains and the Ramil Desert so there’s that - her hawk is cute, she screm - witch shaped like a friend

Ikaro

- the Human Token™, a gunslinger - dat boi - son of a gun - jesse mccree but as a pirate - birate - lovechild of Han Solo and Jesse McCree - “im not a pirate im a buccaneer” - the fuckboiest fuckoi that ever fuckboied - tried to flirt with Ume and got a “stop embarassing yourself!” from Taro - “the loser had it coming” –cit. @eldrich-archivist - has seen some shit - stole some of that - and murdered some other - he doesn’t regret killing people, but that doesn’t mean he likes doing so - “i’m not good, i’m not bad, but i sure as hell ain’t ugly” - travelled on a pirate ship for many years - he feels like he is searching for something, in the vast seas of Gaea, but even he doesn’t know what, or who - has a Dark Past™, that’s why he’s on the run - not the captain on the ship he’s on - just one of the many men on board - (his captain is a very badass aasimar lady maybe i’ll give a backstory to her later) - sinnamom roll - flirted with Kevin and Lem almost stabbed him - then flirted with Lem and Kevin almost killed him with a lightning - also likes flirting with death - kinky af, probably into bondage - lowkey a furry

And finally, my favourite

Allegra

- dwarf sorceress/bard but a dancer - she’s mute, so she casts spell while dancing - travelled with a travelling circus - ran away from her home in the Underworld bc she’s transgender and feared that her father wouldn’t understand - her powers come from the storm (stormborn bloodline) - Taro’s nickname for her is “Lady Thunderdwarf” - Taro is also a very good friend of her, he sings for her and she dances - sometimes when she dances she summons the rain unconsciusly - her name means “happy” or “cheerful” in Italian - cinnamom roll, too good for this world, too pure - hates little and close spaces - has a birthmark that is suspiciously similar to the holy symbol of the god of the wind but?? maybe it’s a coincidence??? maybe not??? who knows - at first she can only talk with Kevin bc he’s the only one in their “party” that knows sign language but then they teach it to everyone - she and Kevin are really great friends bc they both know how it feels to be an outcast - didn’t believe in love at first sight until she met Zero - “ALLEGRA STOP THROWING MAGIC AT MY DOG HE’S BITING THIN AIR YOU’LL MAKE HIM FEEL SAD” - never came out to her dwarven family, and she regrets that a little - but she’s still scared, so she doesn’t write to them - she has two brother (one older and the other younger; the former has died) and a younger sister; her mother died when she was little so she doesn’t remember much - she doesn’t know, but her father cares deeply about her, even if he still thinks of her as a “him” - family is very important to dwarves, and she feels that Ume and Kevin and the other are like a family to her now - before she met Taro, when she was still travelling with the circus, she danced on the music of Kakeru, a young bard from the Eastern continent that is the Kukize that is very good at playing the shamisen and teached her how to read his native language and told her the myths and the legends of his land. she teached him the sign language and how to read dwarven runes - she can forge things bc that’s a thing that every dwarf learns, but she is no master of that art - i love her so much asklabaksdsksfgagsds

#long post #abt my ocs #about gaia

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peachpety · 4 years

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Hi hello!! The second I saw you were taking Autumn prompts I ran here as fast as I could!😍 Loved PSL, I love you. The way you write Draco is everything!😍 I couldn’t decide on one so I leave it up to your good judgement to write whichever! Thank you for all that you do!! 💜 Person A is out for a walk one night when they come across Person B in the middle of a cemetery, trying to do a spell. It gets awkward. "You’ll pry this sweater out of my cold, dead hands. I don’t care how ugly it is."

Draco L. Malfoy vs. The Weasley Jumper

* * *

It’s a fair assessment that Draco L. Malfoy knows clothes.

At the age of six, his short pants with the crisp seam and patent leather brogues earned him the title of Smartest-Dressed Lad amongst Mother’s Gardening Club. He was the only Hogwarts student at the Yule Ball, thank you very much, to don ink-black dress robes in a wool-blend with a touch of silk from the finest wizarding atelier in London. Recently, he has developed an affinity for Richard James’ classic British tailoring, wearing it with the intended cheek in which it was crafted.

And he is living proof that a pair of bespoke trousers tailored to hug the arse perfectly will catch a bloke faster than a piece of gouda in a mouse trap.

But Merlin help him, the mouse he’s in love with has an affinity for ugly sweaters.

Draco perches on the arm of the couch, a vision in royal blue cashmere and the aforementioned bespoke trousers. “Harry, for fuck’s sake, we will be late for tea!” He picks invisible lint off his knee and taps his foot impatiently.

When Harry enters, Draco appraises him with a sweeping glance, backtracking for a second look at Harry’s lower half. He’s wearing the pinstripe trousers that Harry complains are cut a little high in the crotch for his liking, but Draco had nearly attacked him in the menswear department so, of course, he bought two pairs.

Harry holds up his tie. “Help,” he says cringing.

Draco rolls his eyes and revels in the way Harry’s eyes flame evergreen as he approaches.

“Fuck, Malfoy, you look— ”

“I know,” Draco says, smugly flipping his long bangs out of his eyes. He tosses aside the tie and summons another from the bedroom, one in a proper colour to coordinate with his own attire.

Draco slips the tie around Harry’s neck, and Harry crowds him against the couch. “This is my favourite colour,” he purrs, running his hands down Draco’s torso, squeezing his waist.

Draco knots the tie at Harry’s clavicle. “I know,” he repeats. “And we are late.” He cinches the tie tight.

Harry coughs and steps back chuckling. “Can I help it if my boyfriend looks good enough to eat?” He summons a jumper from the bedroom, and Draco freezes mid-preen.

“You are not wearing that monstrosity, Potter.”

Harry’s grin disappears beneath the jumper as he pulls it over his head. “It’s cold out, yeah?”

“Then wear a fucking jacket!”

Harry’s grin widens, and he smooths his hands over the uneven multi-coloured loops and the big garish “H” stitched in acid green on his chest. “Mrs. Weasley knitted this for me. I like it.”

“I forbid you to wear it,” Draco insists, very nearly stamping his foot.

Harry’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. “You forbid it?”

Draco huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. Hot spots bloom on his cheeks as Harry stalks slowly forward.

Harry takes hold of Draco’s wrists. “You don’t like my jumper?” he asks softly, placing Draco’s hands to his backside.

Draco pauses, mouth open, his retort stalled in his throat. “Are you… ?” He massages Harry’s bum and sucks in a breath, heat flooding his veins. “Are you wearing pants?”

Harry shakes his head.

“Those, er, that’s imported Italian cashmere,” Draco complains breathlessly, sliding his hands from Harry’s arse to his crotch. “Were you really going to free-ball at Mother’s afternoon tea? You vulgar, crass -- ”

“The pants ruined the line of the trousers,” Harry states.

“Fuck,” Draco breathes.

They arrive 45 minutes late, Draco looking far more rumpled than normal, earning a raised brow from Mother. Meanwhile, Harry grins like a mouse that got the cheese and sips tea in his fucking jumper.

Draco L. Malfoy: 0; Weasley Jumper: 1

* * *

A week later, Harry pops into the study. “Have you seen my jumper?” He lifts pillows on the armchairs, tossing them askew.

“I do not keep track of your belongings, Potter,” Draco says idly, brandishing his wand to tidy the pillows. “And especially not that hideous thing.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “What have you done with it?”

Draco levels a haughty stare at him over his spectacles. “I have done nothing.”

It’s a half-truth.

He had, in fact, attempted to burn the bloody thing. He tried all manner of flame — Incendio, Fire Rope, even a Muggle Bic lighter, for fuck’s sake — and came this close to casting Fiendfyre. And yet, the jumper remained unscorched, unscathed, and perfectly awful. He had to admit, he was impressed with the strength of the protection spells Mrs. Weasley had infused in the yarn. It was quite remarkable.

He hated it with his whole heart.

Harry hums, eyes still narrowed, and disappears to only reappear moments later with the offensive thing clutched in his hands. Draco groans inwardly.

“I found it!” Harry beams. “Strange, it was under the bed hidden with a cloaking spell.” He pulls it on and ruffles his hair.

Draco stares at the lint clinging to Harry’s elbow, at the green “H” mocking him. “Brilliant,” he says flatly.

“Well, I’m off for lunch with Pans.” Harry checks his reflection in the mirror, pausing when he notices a long strand of yarn dangling at the armpit. “Fuck! There’s a snag!” He cuts his gaze to Draco.

Draco lifts his hands. “What? I didn’t do anything to it!”

It’s another half-truth.

In his fury over his failed arson attempts he had kicked the jumper through the flat, stomping on it for good measure. A nail not quite flush with the floorboards had snagged the loops and when Draco retrieved it, the stitches came unraveled.

“I think you had more to do with this than you’re letting on,” Harry says, frowning. He takes off the sweater savagely, scowl firmly in place as he stomps away.

Draco deflates, a pang twinging his heart. He really hadn’t intended to destroy the jumper. The Incendio was initially aimed at a large spider crawling across the bedroom floor. The jumper merely got caught in the crossfire, and survived unscathed. Draco had tried the other spells out of curiosity, and if the thing perished in the name of science, more's the pity.

The snag was truly an accident.

Draco bites the inside of his mouth to keep from grinning.

Draco L. Malfoy: 1; Weasley Jumper: 1

* * *

It’s a cold autumn morning when Draco shuffles into the kitchen and sees The Weasley Jumper draped over a kitchen chair.

Draco has had a week’s respite from the knitted menace, a weeks-long basking in the beauty of a lovely creamy fisherman’s jumper Harry was forced to wear while Mrs Weasley worked on repairs.

He pokes the awful thing, dismissing its softness, and gives it a hiss before setting the Muggle coffee machine to percolate. The morning chill creeps beneath his dressing gown, and he shivers waiting for his cup to fill, pointedly ignoring the jumper’s warm-looking stitches.

He’s stirring in the milk and sugar when he notices a lumpy, squishy package on the table. Only once he’s seated and cup, spoon, and napkin are aligned and properly arranged, does he peer at the wrapping. Tape completely encompasses what appears to be old parchment covered with chicken-scratch lettering. Draco frowns.

“Morning, love,” Harry says, yawning and scratching his belly as he comes into the kitchen. He pecks Draco on the cheek and shivers. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

Draco watches him pull on the jumper, heart aching at his bare legs and adorably messy hair.

“This package is for you,” Harry says, pushing the lump in front of Draco. “From Mrs Weasley.”

Draco’s heart lurches, the traitor. “The wrapping is ridiculous.”

Harry grins. “My old History of Magic homework.” He nudges it closer to Draco.

“You didn’t even get good marks.” Draco sniffs. “And, thank you, I hate it.”

“You haven’t even opened it!” Harry admonishes, waving his hand. The wrapping tears and out spills a Weasley Jumper. Draco’s breath stalls. It’s royal blue and the loops are fat and plush. Harry holds it up and the “D” stitched on the front is fashioned out of olive green snakes. “I told her how fetching you look in blue.”

“It’s horrendous,” Draco says, his throat burning.

Harry sighs dramatically. “I guess I’ll just send it back, then— ”

“No!” Draco yelps. The jumper is in his hands before he realizes he’s summoned it. “You’ll pry this jumper out of my cold, dead hands. I don’t care how ugly it is.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “It’s got Mrs Weasley’s special warming spell that syncs with your magical signature.” He takes the monstrosity and shoves it over Draco’s head. Draco’s head pops out, and Harry kisses him tender and sweet. “I’ll tell her you like it.”

“I don’t like it,” Draco grouses.

The jumper is perfectly warm and the sleeves are exactly too long. Draco curls the tips of his fingers and fists the sleeves tightly, burying his nose in its spicy scent.

Draco L. Malfoy may know clothes. He may know that braces are never to be worn with belts and that jackets are never to be fully buttoned unless they are double-breasted.

But he’s never been more happy than to concede victory to an ugly jumper.

A tear leaks out of his eye and is immediately absorbed in the fluffy yarn.

The jumper hugs him closer.

Draco L. Malfoy: 1; Weasley Jumper: 1001

* * *

Day 7 of the Autumn Drarry Challenge, y’all! This is for the sweet @legendrarry! Thank you for the ask, sweetness! I chose the quote for this one...I hope you like it! BIG thanks to @bonesliketambourines for the beta, mwah, lovely!

Send me an ask if you like! Reference this post for potential prompts to send! Enjoy! xo peach

Read on AO3

Day 6 || Day 8

#autumn drarry drabbles #weasley jumper #day seven drabble #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry drabble #draco is well-dressed and knows it #fashion diva draco malfoy #harry loves his jumper and his boyfriend too #autumn drabbles 2020 #autumn cozy drabble #peach writes

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ciathyzareposts · 4 years

Text

Eric the Unready – As Happy As A Pig In … Let’s Say… Mud

Written by TBD

Eric the Unready Journal Entry #1: My first real assignment! After defeating the Knight of the Black Pauldron, I was given another important job where I met the most adorable creature I’ve ever seen – I also met a princess! Day 1: How do you like them apples?

After the introduction, Eric was given his first quest – to kiss a farmer’s daughter who’d been turned into a pig. I immediately get to work, go to the farm and try to kiss the pig. Seemed like an easy job, but the pig fears my tender lips and runs for the privy. Not the most romantic of places, but I won’t give up when I’ve got a job to do, so time to enter the toilet to molest a farm animal.

For my first move I talk to the farmer. Being the first time I spent a lot of time with the Legend parser, I’ll describe it a little bit now.

You can click on the words on the left to do things. The word list contains the usual suspects, as well as many less usual verbs – The list changes based on where you are, so most likely used verbs will always be near the top. The manual tells me that I never need to use items below the separator line to proceed, but it might be fun to do so.

Apart from the word lists, you can also click on the picture – for example, I can click on TALK, then click on the farmer in the middle of the picture instead of the word FARMER. It’s not something I find overly useful, but it’s nice to have the option – I at first thought that might be useful for identifying unknown objects, but it appears that when I click on a verb, all possible objects on the screen or in my inventory are listed. It may still be useful, but my guess is that it’s just an alternative for those who prefer their interfaces to be slightly closer to the standard point-and-click interface.

Once I talk to the farmer, I get my first look at the conversation screen. It’s pretty self-explanatory.

Bestiality humour

Before entering the privy, I go to the barn, where I take a rope from a peg, then everything the farmer has in his medicine cabinet.

The Hog-Wild is something I’ll obviously be using soon.

Having filled my inventory with potentially useful items, I leave the barn and enter the privy – it’s your standard outhouse with a hook for paper and a few magazines. The pig is happily rolling around in the muck below.

I take the newspaper, where I can get a short joke summary of my last mission and some funny classifieds

Couldn’t the pilgrims have just taken the apples anyway. There was only one tree’s worth, after all.

I tie my rope to the privy hook and try unsuccessfully to use the Hog-Wild to get the pig to climb up.

My first death. I always appreciate a game with an UNDO button – it encourages exploration.

I try to get the Hog-Wild to the pig somehow, but every option fails so I go down the rope.

She looks so cute. Who wouldn’t want to kiss that pig who seems to be playing in Willy Wonka’s chocolate river

I give the Hog-Wild to the pig, who jumps on my leg and stays there. With pig in tow, I climb back up go back to the farmer so he can witness my success and sign my work slip.

Are all of my quests going to involve apples in some way?

I’m sent back to the barn to wash up, where my look and smell scares the cows, causing a stampede and the total destruction of the barn.

As I quickly make my exit and walk home, the royal carriage of Princess Lorealle the Worthy pulls up and she offers me a ride

She’s so obviously going to be kidnapped and it’ll be up to me to rescue her.

Day 2 – The Barred Bard and the Hard Guard

My first quest done, I wake up in my bed the next morning, having slept in my now rusted armour. Luckily for me, I’d left my armour warranty card on my bed. Unluckily for me, I can’t move in my armour so can’t take it.

My squire comes in and tells me that the Princess has disappeared and needs rescuing! He takes off my armour for me and I make my way to the rescue mission briefing, taking a newspaper on the way.

I talk to some of the knights before the meeting starts. I get no information, but a heap of jokes. Then I read my paper.

Fake news – we”re only dating.

The shop steward enters the room and, after reminding us that King Fudd will die this Saturday according to a prophecy, gives us some information that suggests a potential motive for the kidnapping.

He then mentions the traditional reward for a princess rescue – half the kingdom and the girl’s hand in marriage – and that the knight assigned to the job is… ERIC THE UNREADY!

Is the knight at the top right named ROSS THE THREE-QUARTER HEAD?

Leaving the union hall I go to the village square and meet a bard. People give him money for jokes or songs, and he obliges, but to hear the Epic of Baldur I’ll need to pay a gold coin. Having no money yet, I go to the armoury, where I meet the stereotypical Italian armourer

I’m not sure Giovanni is even Italian. He hasn’t said Mamma Mia once, yet.

Giovanni asks me my armour sizes as a form of copy protection. I check the manual and answer him, and he tells me my new suit will be ready in a week (too late to save the kingdom, I think) but he gives me some clothing so I’m not walking around naked for a week.

I hope a thief doesn’t pick my pocket with a packet.

The pocket packet contains a bean that works with water. Hoping to trade my magic bean for a cow, I leave. I next visit the feasting hall, where all the other knights are cavorting at the Rhomboid Table. I take some kindling from the fireplace and try to go up the stairs to see the king.

The guard won’t let me up the stairs, but does say that if offered him 1 gold piece he’d happily let me up. That’s the second thing I can do that costs a gold. Looks like I’ll have to make a choice (I hate doing that – especially if I won’t find out I bought the wrong thing until much later) but I’ll deal with that later on. Now I’ll check out the Map feature on the interface.

I like this map, and the little up arrow in the Feasting Hall that shows I can also go up (if the guard lets me through)

To the south of town is a small market containing a torch shop (which Eric had previously burned down) and an ice cream shoppe. I can buy an ice cream for (you guessed it) one gold coin. The Ice Cream Shoppe worker is called Bobbin.

They named this guy purely so they could reference another adventure game. I feel like I should be disappointed, but I actually approve.

I try to take the torch display outside the torch shop, but it won’t budge. I feel that with the torch and my kindling I can activate the fireplace in the ice cream shoppe which would melt the ice cream. Why would I want to melt the ice cream? Because it’s there and I’m playing an adventure game, of course.

As I try to enter the torch shop, the proprieter obviously sees me and remembers my previous visit.

This game is easier than I thought.

My attempt to melt the ice cream with my torch and kindling is somewhat successful. Bobbin gets warm and gives me his earmuffs. Well, that hadn’t given me the melted I cream I wanted (I thought perhaps I could use that to activate my magic bean) so I left.

Wondering what else I could use as a water substitute rather than melted ice cream, I paused outside the shop and looked at the bleeding obvious that I’d somehow ignored at first.

This is what has always annoyed me about parser games – I know what I want to do, but it takes a while for me to communicate this to the game.

I keep trying things, and quickly find the right syntax to get the job done.

So, you’re saying I put the helmet under the water like I tried earlier. Okay, game. That’s fine.

I’m sure other things would work, and throw is one of the least likely as it suggests I’m no longer holding the helmet, but I’m not going to harp on it as I now have a hatful of water, just like I wanted.

I go the the courtyard where I’d found a pile of soil under a window (and a satellite dish, of course) and plant and water my presumably magic bean.

Dumbledore was enjoying his peaceful retirement (P.S. I haven’t read past the second book – no spoilers please)

The wizard tosses me a gold coin so I can buy him a root beer float, then goes back to watching the game. My beanstalk collapses as I fall down, but I’m sure I’ll find another way to get him his prize when I come back.

Before buying the wizard his ice cream drink, I save the game and try using his money elsewhere.

The Epic of Baldur puts people to sleep, but more importantly my gold coin keeps replicating itself, avoiding the potential of dead-ends I’d feared earlier.

I buy the wizard’s drink, then quickly go back to his tower while it slowly melts every turn. Without my beanstalk, I wasn’t sure how to get it to him.

Either that ‘hic’ is just a joke about me getting an ant drunk, or it’s a clue about some underground locations.

I give my infinite coin to the stair guard so I can see the King and Queen, but he just takes my money, stays at his post and calls me a sucker.

So I come up with a new plan. I wear Bobbin’s earmuffs and pay the bard for another ballad. After noticing and being impressed with my earmuff strategy, he tells me that he’s always wished to play for the Knights of the Rhomboid table. I offer to bring him to the table, and he follows me. I’m not sure what had previously been stopping the bard from just walking into the feasting hall because there didn’t appear to be any obstacle, but I’m not going to care if I’m solving a puzzle, so I let him follow me and he puts all the guards to sleep with his tale while my earmuffs keep me awake.

I walk up the now clear stairs and overhear a conversation between the Queen and Sir Pectoral the Hunk.

It seems the queen had arranged for the biggest idiot in the realm to be given the quest to ensure its failure.

One of my favourite RPG games of all time is also about a Guardian of a Black Gate.

Sir Pectoral mentions that he has organised for a group of soldiers to follow me around and arrange an ‘accident’ after I leave the village.

With my new knowledge, I go back downstairs where the now awake knights have gotten back to their carousing.

Be excellent to each other.

The bard gives me a commemorative book of the Epic of Baldur. The book contains a coupon, but before I can read it, Bud the Wizard appears and tells us to go to determine by magic who should really be on the quest.

Is this supposed to be the same wizard as before? Because he looks very different.

In a clear twist on the King Arthur legend, we see a banana stuck in a stone. After all the other knights have a go, it’s my turn. I use the Tort-Ease muscle relaxant I picked up from the barn earlier and prove my worthiness.

Then Bud appears again, along with all his furnishings – a cute little joke so they don’t need to draw a third picture of him. He tells me of the five items I’ll need to find to get past the Black Gate, and where I can locate each of them.

So he is supposed to be the same guy. Shame nobody bothered to tell the artist.

He then gives me a magic backpack but doesn’t tell me what it does (please be a backpack of infinite carrying so I don’t have to deal with inventory management.)

Yoohoo makes me think of a text adventure, but I can’t put my finger on the reference, if it is one.

I do the obvious with the banana, and get to my next location (destroying Ulric’s House of Torches again along the way)

But wait – I just wanted to fill my banana with water!

I then get a MEANWHILE! Cutscene of the Queen’s sister having a conversation with her captive Princess Lorealle.

Now come on, Lorealle. She’s your aunt after all. Isn’t calling her a WITCH a little harsh?

I retract my objection

The witch goes on to reiterate the Queen’s evil plan for people who aren’t constantly taking screenshots while they play, then throws Lorealle into the dungeon.

I appreciate the confidence, but why are you sitting exactly the way you did in the carriage ride earlier. It looks weird.

So next time, we’ll discover how I go in the Enchanted Forest. I now have a clear idea of my quest. I have to go to five locations and find five items. Then there will be a final location where I’ll complete my quest. I like games having a structure – lets me keep track of how I’m advancing. I’m enjoying the game so far – it’s funny and simple – perhaps a little too simple if the puzzles don’t get a bit harder as we move on, but it’s setting a nice relaxed pace at this early point while I get used to it.

Session time: 1 hour 20 minutes

Total time: 1 hour 20 minutes

Score: 103 out of 1000

Inventory: a float, coupon, book, Tort-Ease

Note Regarding Spoilers and Companion Assist Points: There’s a set of rules regarding spoilers and companion assist points. Please read it here before making any comments that could be considered a spoiler in any way. The short of it is that no points will be given for hints or spoilers given in advance of me requiring one. Please…try not to spoil any part of the game for me…unless I really obviously need the help…or I specifically request assistance. In this instance, I’ve not made any requests for assistance. Thanks!

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