#probably forgetting a couple in my defense george got around

[monarchetype]

a compilation of George Harrison's love interests wearing the George Harrison Love Interest Sunglasses

In order: Ringo Starr, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Eric Idle, Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty, Ravi Shankar

Bonus: John gets an A for effort, at least one of those is correct I think

[wlntrsldler]

Hii, was wondering if I could request you belong with me with oliver wood? Thank u :)

PROMPT: based on you belong with me by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Y/N is in love with her friend with benefits, oliver wood. 

WARNINGS: light smut

WC: 1.8K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

you belong with me (o.w one shot)

“Always a pleasure, Y/L/N,” Oliver quipped, putting on his shirt as he shot you a flirty smile. 

You giggled under his stare, slipping on his discarded jumper to cover yourself. You inhaled his scent, feeling yourself fall deeper for the boy in front of you. “I can say the same about you, Wood.” 

He cocked an eyebrow, motioning over to the article of clothing you decide to drape over your body. “I take it that you’ll be adding this to the collection you have?” 

“Course,” you hummed, staring at him as he began to get ready to leave, as usual. “Need to have something to remember you by.”

Oliver cheekily snuck over next to you, pressing his lips against your neck, making you moan out. You pulled his neck back, connecting your lips together, making him groan. You pushed him down to the bed, straddling his thighs, your body bare from the waist down. He pushed you down onto his body, deepening the kiss. You pulled back, now peppering kisses down his exposed skin. 

He massaged the skin of your thighs, licking his lips, “And the marks I left on your body isn’t enough of a reminder?” 

“They are,” you murmured, sucking softly on his collarbone. He took in a breath, feeling himself growing hard under your rolling hips. “But it makes it easier to think about you when I touch myself when I can smell you.” 

Oliver threw his head back, taking all the strength he possessed to remove your body off him. You whined in protest, laying down on your back, defeated beside him. He propped his head with his hand, smirking at you, “You’ll be the death of me, Y/L/N.”

“Good.” 

Oliver left a few minutes after that conversation, making you sigh and bury your head in your pillow. You were so in love with the Quidditch captain and you knew you shouldn’t be. When you and him agreed to be friends with benefits, you both agreed that it meant absolutely no feelings, whatsoever. As far as you knew, Oliver was upholding his side of the bargain quite well, while you were failing miserably. 

It was hard not to fall for the boy. He was charming, kind, and not to mention, a great kisser. Whenever you two laid together, it almost didn’t feel like a mutual agreement. He has so much passion, so much care, every time you two were alone. Oliver would always ask you if you were okay, always made sure you were comfortable, and showered you with praise. He would bury his head in the crook of your neck, stating how good you made him feel. 

It’s been a few months since the start of your agreement and after each night, you felt yourself love him just a bit more than the previous night. In front of other people, you two acted like perfect friends, like everyone knew you as, but behind closed doors, you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other. He would pepper your face with soft kisses, tangle your fingers together, and murmur words of adoration in your ear the minute there were no eyes on you two. You knew it was a dangerous game you were playing but you couldn’t help but not care. Oliver Wood was addicting. 

The following morning, you winced as you hobbled down to the Great Hall, legs sore from last night's activities. You grimaced as you sat down at the table, across from Oliver who had a smirk on his face that he was trying to hide behind his cup. Fred chuckled beside you, nudging you, “Fun night, Y/N?”

“Shut it, Weasley,” you hissed, taking a bite from a piece of toast you plucked off his plate. “I may be feeling a bit injured at the moment, but I can still hex you into next Sunday.” 

“One day, Y/L/N, we’ll meet the bloke who’s making it difficult for you to walk.” George added.

“Why do you assume it’s because of a bloke?” you grumbled, stuffing your mouth with eggs. “What if I just fell off my broom at practice? Maybe I have cramps. Did you ever think about that, hmm?”

“Sure,” Fred said, he motioned at your neck, reminding you of the marks that probably littered your skin. “But I’m sure your fall didn’t cause all that.” 

You blushed under their gaze, lifting your fingers up to trace the tender skin. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, Y/L/N,” the younger twin shrugged, looking at you with a playful twinkle in his eye. “One day we’ll meet the bloke you say is the best lay of your life.” 

Your eyes widened at his words, completely forgetting that you confessed that to the twins during one party after drinking too much. You heard Oliver snort in front of you, smiling in a teasing manner. He raised his eyebrows as if saying, “The best lay of your life, huh?” You flipped off George, making him and his twin burst out in laughter. “Shut up, please.” 

“I think it’s cute,” Oliver chuckled, leaning over to stare at you. “You’re smitten with him, aren’t you?”

“You can shut up too, Wood.” 

The three boys howled in laughter. Oliver sent you a wink when the twins were too busy joking around to pay attention to the two of you. You blushed, feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach. Merlin, this is going to be difficult, you thought. 

-

Unfortunately, it’s been weeks since your last night with Oliver. The Quidditch team has been practicing more than ever and you were both too tired to really do much. When you weren’t practicing, you were doing homework, already behind on at least three of your classes because of your rigorous practice schedule. 

Oliver’s jumper no longer smelled like him, making you upset that you had to settle for friendly glances and secret touches in the hallways. Your love bites already faded as well, disappearing with time. You missed seeing the red marks on your skin, reminding you of your heated rendezvous. 

You were walking out of Potions when Blaise came up to you, a flirty smile on his face. He stopped you in your tracks, leaning against a pole. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hello, Blaise,” you raised an eyebrow, confused as to why the Slytherin was talking to you. You clutched your books closer to your chest, “Anything I can help you with?”

“Actually yes,” he licked his lips, reaching down to grab your hand. “I was wondering if you could accompany me to Hogsmeade this weekend.” 

You looked down at your hand sitting idle in his palm, stuttering over your words and you spoke to him for conformation. “L-like a date?”

“Exactly like a date,” Blaise nodded, placing a kiss to your knuckles. “If you’re up for it.” 

“I-”

“Leannan,” A voice spoke from behind you. A hand snaked around your wait, pulling you close to them, and ripping your hand from Blaise’s grip at the same time. You turned your head to see Oliver, staring down Blaise. “What’s going on here?” 

Blaise stared back, “Just asking Y/N on a date, Wood. None of your concern.” 

“Actually it is,” Oliver replied, pulling you even closer to him. Your body grew hot, feeling Oliver’s protective grip on your waist. “We have plans this weekend. So I’m sorry that but she’ll have to decline.” 

He nodded, reluctantly, shifting his attention from Oliver to you. “Hm, maybe next time then.” 

Oliver grinned, a condescending smile on his face, “Sure, mate.” 

Blaise raised his hands up in defense, shooting you a confused wave before walking away. Oliver didn’t dare to remove his hand on you until Blaise was nowhere to be seen. When he finally let you go, you looked at him in disbelief, “What was that for?”

He rolled his eyes, “You should be thanking me, Y/N. I got you out of a date with him.”

“What if I wanted to go?”

“Please,” he chuckled, now taking Blaise’s original spot, “You wanted to go on a date with Zabini?”

“Maybe,” you huffed but you knew you had no interest in the Slytherin. 

“Why would you want to?” 

“He’s fit,” you stated simply, shrugging like it was no big deal. It wasn’t really a lie. Blaise was fit, but you weren’t interested. “Plus, I could get to know him and see for myself if I see something with him.”

Oliver scoffed, “Don’t waste your time with someone like him.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so harsh right now.”

“Because you deserve better.” 

“Oh right,” you spat, “And better in your definition is to be hidden away as nothing more than a nice quickie, right?”

Oliver blinked a few times, trying to process your words. He held your upper arm, concern over his features, “What are you on about?”

“All I am is a friends with benefits right, Oliver? That’s all I’ll ever amount to? Merlin forbid that someone would find interest in me beyond that.” 

“Y/N, where is this coming from?”

“You really are thick,” you chuckled, tears now spilling from your eyes. “It stopped being a quick fuck for me a long time ago Oliver. I’m bloody in love with you.” 

You stood there in silence, breathing ragged as you spilled your feelings to Oliver. You shook your head, turning around to walk away from him. You took a couple steps before you felt him grab your hand, twirling you around to push you into his chest. He chuckled, ignoring the way your books fell from your hand, as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “You wanna know why I told Blaise off?” 

“Why?”

“Because you belong with me, leannan,” he mumbled, lips ghosting over yours. “I’m in love with you, too.” 

You gulped, looking into his eyes, “You are?”

“Mhm.”

You placed your lips on his, sighing in content knowing you no longer had to hide your affections. Oliver wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up as he kissed you passionately. You squealed, sneaking short kisses on his lips as he laughed. He put you down, kissing your lips one last time before pulling away. 

“Oi, Fred!” George called his brother, a smirk on his lips as he hid behind a wall. 

Fred walked over to him, “What’s up, Georgie?”

George pointed at the two of you ahead of him, wrapped up in each other’s embrace. Oliver leaned down to kiss you again, this time backing you up against the wall to deepen the kiss. George grinned knowing that he won the bet. The younger twin held out his hand, “Five sickles, please.” 

Fred rolled his eyes, fishing in his pocket to get the money he now owed his brother, “Here.” 

George replied in a sing-song voice, “Thank you.”

“Shut up.”

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

[marmosa]

hello 💕 i've just gone through your entire fred weasley and i absolutely love your writing and especially your dialogues, they feel v authentic and real xx i read that you have requests open so i'll leave you with an idea from my v detailed v self indulgent daydream cinematic universe starring fred weasley— post war (say a couple of years after) fred is the owner and manager of the hogsmead branch of the joke shop and sneaks into hogwarts to meet his fiancé, newly hired transfiguration (1/2)

thank you so much for the kind words and reading all my writing, i can’t begin to describe how much that means to me! i love the idea of fred sneaking into the castle to see his significant other, it’s so cute, i had to run a lap around my room just thinking about it. also in this house fred weasley never d worded, if you think he did, no he didn’t. also also, it got kinda sad at the end and i’m sorry, i didn’t mean for that to happen i- but anyways, hope you like it and thank you again for the compliment <3

word count: 1.6k

***

“Hey!”

Tink!

“Hey!”

Tink!

[y/n] looked up from the stack of papers arrayed on her desk and glanced around her study for the source of the noise, absolutely bewildered at who would possibly be bothering her at this hour. She prayed it wasn’t a student messing around with her, for she may have been a relatively new teacher but she wasn’t afraid to stand her ground against misbehaving kids.

The sound came again and this time she saw who it was her face lighting up before falling down as she scurried over to the window, unlatching the glass and pushing it open to find her fiancé sitting all high and mighty on his broom like this was a normal everyday occurrence.

“Fred Weasley! What in God’s name are you doing outside of my window? Why are you throwing stones at glass? Do you have any idea how high up I am?” She hissed, reaching for him, despite knowing full well he could only enter the room on his own accord.

He flew closer to the window and balanced himself on the ledge before grabbing her hand and hopping down onto the floor a giddy smile plastered on his lips, “I’m aware how high up this is, lest you forget I was one of the best Gryffindor beaters this school has ever seen.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You do realize you could just come in through the front doors right? McGonagall isn’t going to smite you down for visiting your fiancée,” she deadpanned, latching the window back shut.

“Whatever? If I recall correctly, me being on the quidditch team all those years back had you absolutely smitten, or am I wrong,” he retorted smugly, completely brushing past her statement about walking through the front doors.

[y/n]’s face fell into one of embarrassment as she pushed past him back to her desk, not wanting to fuel his ego any more than she usually did, “Even so, you still can’t be sneaking onto campus. Especially during school hours, you know how it is, I would rather you be turned away at the door than get escorted out by the collar of your robes.”

“But it’s always school hours! Honestly [y/l/n], your new position has really given you a stick up the arse,” He grumbled, leaning back against one of the desks across from hers.

“[y/l/n]?” She repeated, offense written all over her face. Despite not taking it to heart she decided to mess with him a bit for being so stubborn.

Fred’s face fell and he was quick to rush over and apologize, “You know that’s not what I meant! Technically you’re not a Weasley anyway until the paperwork is done legally, so I’m not wrong.”

“I’m telling Molly you said that and she’s going to ground you just like she did 6th year when you got caught nicking something from Filche’s office,” [y/n] pouted, sinking into her chair and crossing her arms.

“You’re terrible you know that,” Fred deadpanned grabbing her cheeks in his hands, “don’t you say a word to my mother or she’ll make me bake you a cake or something.”

“I would quite like that actually, maybe I will tell her,” she replied, biting back a smile.

“Oh, come on! You know George was the one who got all the baking skills! That’s why he’s in charge of all the candy at our shops!” Fred whined, squeezing her face together slightly to try and return the teasing.

“Even if it turned out burnt and gross, I’d still like it because you made it,” she stated plainly, leaning up to try and snatch a kiss.

“Rubbish,” He replied, indulging her and accepting the kiss, smiling down at her when she beamed up at him.

“Whatever you say Freddie, y’know-,”

“Mrs. Weasley? Are you here? I had a question for you.”

All the color drained out of Fred’s face as he recognized McGonagall’s voice from across the room, [y/n]’s features mirroring the same horror as she pushed him off her and shoved him under her desk so he was as out of sight as she could make him.

“Yes- yes! I’m here Minerva, how can I help you?” [y/n] stuttered out, sliding her chair in as far as she could without injuring her soon to be husband.

“Well, I wanted to ask how the preparations were coming along for the annual Christmas Ball? I know you’ve been kept busy with recent exams, but the plans are top priority if we want to keep the spectacular turn out of our ball the same,” McGonagall explained walking up to her desk.

“Oh! The plans are coming along just fine, I haven’t quite finished drafting them up yet, but as soon as I do I’ll have them brought to you right away for approval,”  [y/n] assured her, trying her best not to let on how nervous she now was, trying not to get Fred caught.

“Spectacular! And I expect to see you down in the Hall later? Professors have to arrive early today for some announcement preparation,” McGonagall continued, thankfully still unaware of the hidden person in the room.

“Of course, thank you for letting me know ahead of time,” [y/n] nodded, pretending to assort some papers on her desk.

“Lovely,” McGonagall smiled, heading out of the room, but stopping before she exited the room, “Oh, and tell Mr. Weasley that I say hello, he’s been rather quiet about his surprise appearances to our school recently.”

“Will do!” [y/n] called after her, releasing a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in as soon as the door shut.

“Okay, how come you get to call her Minerva?” Fred complained, crawling out from under the desk, no visible panic at McGonagall’s leaving statement.

“All professors do. Besides, you’re a trouble-maker in her eyes, a darling, but a trouble-maker, she wouldn’t dream of giving you that kind of power,” [y/n] giggled, reaching up to rearrange his  ruffled hair, as he’d decided to grow it out again once he’d graduated.

“Trouble-maker,” Fred muttered, rolling his eyes, “Well she’ll be seeing a lot more of me whether she likes it or not, so I’ll win that privilege, eventually.”

“Whatever you say darling,” she hummed, scooting back in to continue grading her papers.

“You’re ignoring me already?” he groaned, letting his chin rest on the top of her head, arms slinging over her shoulders.

“I’ve got work to do Fred, I’m a professor now. I’m surprised you even had time to visit me, you’re a business owner now after all, it always amazes me how you have the time for these spontaneous visits- not that I don’t appreciate them,” she assured him, setting down her pen and squeezing his hands.

“I own the business, so I get to make my hours, unlike you,” he replied, moving his head so he was peeking over her shoulder.

“Is that supposed to be bad?” she quipped, leaning her head against his shoulder so she could kind of see him.

“Bad for me! I miss you! You’re here far too much,” Fred mumbled, intertwining their fingers.

“Well winter vacation is coming up soon, so you’ll be seeing much more of me. Hopefully you don’t get too sick of me,” she giggled, pursing her lips when he passed her a suggestive grin, “Ah, don’t look at me like that, that is not what I meant.”

“But it is and you know it darling,” Fred hummed, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t get too cocky or I’ll come up with extra work to keep me here,” she warned, a teasing lilt to her threat.

“You wouldn’t. Besides even if you did, I’d kidnap you against your will. Also you wouldn’t hurt Molly like that, she always expects you for family festivities,” he replied simply, knowing she would never pass up an opportunity to spend time with him.  

“You’ve got me there. You know me so well,” she sighed, reaching back so she could toy with the hair at the nap of his neck.

“I’d hope I know you well, you’re about to be my wife,” he chuckled, shutting his eyes at the sensation of her soft fingers against his skin.

“Touché, love, touché,” she hummed in agreement, her free hand twisting the engagement ring situated on his finger.

“Anyways, I should probably leave you to it, with your boring paperwork and grading and all,” he sighed, standing tall, her hands sliding away from him and into her lap.

“It’s not boring,” she frowned, crossing her arms across her chest defensively, trying not to cave but ultimately failing when he gave her a raised brow, “okay, maybe it’s a little boring.”  

“I knew it. No worries darling, I know you love it here, I’m only teasing. See you soon though?” He mused, brushing a stray hair out of her face.

“See you soon,” she replied, grabbing his face and pulling him down for a sweet kiss, relishing in one another’s company for their limited time together.

“Farewell my love,” he announced, grabbing his broom and pushing himself onto the window sill, “see you around.”

“Fred wait!”

He laxed the position of his broom and turned around, an adoring smile stretching onto his lips as she pulled him for one last sweet kiss, placing a small object in his hand.

“What’s this?” he asked as she peppered a few last kisses around his face, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.

“It’s the locket you gave me, I finally put a picture in it, thought it was time to return it to you,” she smiled, stroking his cheek lovingly.

“You’re astounding,” he muttered, tucking the charm in his pocket, “I love you.”

“I love you too, bye Freddie,” she waved as he kissed her softly once more and took off into the setting sun, “see you soon.”

[introductions-are-a-spook]

Reblogs and feedback always appreciated! Tag list: @kissthe-gogoat @kyuudomo @caloroso-cosmos @omrade-echorin Let me know if you want to be added or taken off!

Last chapter baby! This was an emotional ride, so sincere thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through it. Both followers, friends, and family. Your support really means the world to me.

“I still don’t understand why you need me for this.”

“I told you, you know the layout better. Since you didn’t give me a map like usual. Sides’ the place is empty- I wanted to ask more about how your whole business works. Somewhere truly private, y’know?”

It was the oldest trick in the book. Get them talking about themself so you can work. Or get them to say something incriminating. Which Antigone, of course, did not oblige.

It was slow work, but Maxwell managed to take back the notes Andrew used to leave in houses. They had sent to work painting the Antigone family seal on them in invisible ink.

With their family’s past (one easily dug up), the police would have no problem convicting Nikos Antigone of everything. All Andrew would have to do was play hostage here in just a few minutes.

“Oh, I need to pick this lock- bit of a two-hand job. Could you hold the note?”

Antigone growled but agreed with a sneer. Andrew discreetly pressed the button for Maxwell. Most likely he was calling the police right now- saying, well, something, anything, to get them there quick. Andrew couldn’t help but smile.

“You know, I didn’t know we went to the same school.” Perfect topic to stall with.

Antigone was immediately thrown off. “What? W-We did?” He sputtered.

Good lord. Bring something up from a criminal’s past and they’re all yours to manipulate.

“According to the book of signatures I passed around on graduation day, yes. Same year and everything.”

Antigone was now staring Andrew down with a dangerous glint in his eye. He ever so slightly thumbed at the dagger hilt on his belt. Okay, backpedaling now.

But the moment he saw faint police lights outside, he knew he had to keep going, for better or for worse. He only had one shot…!

So still fiddling with the lock, he blurted, “I saw your old school sweetheart the other day. Jennifer, right?”

Antigone froze. A stillness hung ominously in the air, like a jaguar about to pounce. The hairs on the back of Andrew’s neck stood up, and he almost started praying.

“How dare-“

Saved by the fuzz, though! As soon as Antigone looked as though he could kill Andrew, the men in uniform came streaming in the front door.

Andrew wasn’t all that scared. He winked at Antigone before yelling. “Help! I’m up here, he’s got a knife! Please help!” And more quietly, “Might wanna check the back of that note, Mr. Tig.”

Antigone didn’t bother to look, and instead pulled out the same weapon Andrew shouted about. “You tricked me!” he jabbed the knife at Andrew, who put his hands up in instinctive defense. “You lying snake!” And to the smaller man’s sickening shock, Antigone swung the knife, barely grazing his cheek and hitting his hand by sheer chance.

But upon hearing footsteps getting closer, the towering villain backed away, leaving Andrew to yelp in shock and fright and the rapidly reddening wound.

An officer stamped his way up the nearby stairs, and shouted at Antigone to freeze, but the man wasn’t having it. Andrew hadn’t thought Antigone would ever use an actual weapon on him- he was wrong. Whimpering in pain and paralyzing, icy fear, he moved only to foolishly pull out the blade and grip his bloodied hand.

“I am not to blame! This scoundrel here-” Antigone shook a finger at Andrew, “-is the thief you’ve been looking for! He did this to himself to make me-”

“Yeah, Chapman told us you’d say that.” A twinge of comfort came with hearing Max’s name, along with the struggling Antigone, who was now being arrested despite his best efforts.

And just like that it’s over, Andrew thought to himself as the officers walked him to a car and drove him to a hospital.

~*~

A day later in that same hospital, Andrew was recovering from a surprisingly quick surgery.

“The knife went through the top of your right palm, losing you a pinky and very nearly your ring finger, too. You have a couple options now; leave the stump or find a prosthetic somehow. Both are up to you to manage,” the soft spoken nurse informed him as soon as he was lucid enough to understand.

“Well, shit. Thanks, uh,” he peeked at her name badge. “Thanks Mary. Guessing you’re not gonna give me a new one for free then?”

“No, but I might,” came a gentle yet dry voice from the door.

Andrew turned as the nurse excused herself. “Max!” a fuzzy black figure hopped up on the bed next to him. “And Maxie!”

“Now, I’m not really supposed to have her in here, so…” Max chuckled, sitting down and giving the cat a few pets.

“Nah, I get it. So, finally coming to see me, huh?”

“I’ve been too swamped with end-of-case work. Our plan worked, you’re off scot free. I considered resigning, but-”

“But you don’t love me that much, I getcha,” Andrew teased.

Maxwell gave him a look. “More that I love my job too much to let it go, risks be damned.”

“Makes sense. But you didn’t come here to talk about work, did you?”

Maxwell reached for Andrew’s now four-fingered hand, gently running his five over the bandages. “This wouldn’t have happened if I had just-”

“Hey, it doesn’t matter now. You know that,” Andy reassured him, running his good hand through Max’s thick black locks. The man leaned into the touch, putting his own hand on Andy’s cheek.

“You terrify me,” he almost whispered after a moment. Andrew tilted his head but didn’t say anything. “I’ve never felt so conflicted before meeting you. It was torture. And even now I can’t be sure that loving you is a good thing.”

“Neither can I. And I’ve never met someone that can make me feel so cornered. I didn’t know I wanted to be. But, we’re both selfish jerks. So if loving you is gonna be bad for me, it wouldn’t be the first bad decision either of us has made.”

This made Max chuckle and lean in to kiss Andy. “You’re probably right.”

~*~

It had been a few months. A new metal finger glinted on Andrew’s right hand.

“Jennifer.”

“Andrew.”

“So, I heard ole’ Mr. Antigone is in prison now?”

She gave a solemn nod. “For ten years.”

Andrew blew a low whistle. “Well, shit.”

Her demeanor went from closed to fiery. “This is your fault, you know. I know you and Chapman did something to pin your shit on Nikos. And now I won’t be able to see him!”

Andrew drew away slightly. Both were silent for a time.

“…I think I get it now.”

“What.”

“I remind you of him, don’t I? That’s why when he disappeared to lead his family’s ‘business’ you attached yourself to me.”

She sighed. “…I don’t know. I guess I just hoped I could still hold onto him somehow.”

“So you held on to the crook classmate that shared some resemblance with him.”

She shook her head. Not as a ‘no’ but more as a self-chastise.

“We were horrible for each other. It’s no wonder we fell apart.”

“Yeah.” Another pause. “You could see about visitations.”

“I’ll figure that out on my own. I don’t even know if he’d want to see me. But, I know there’s still good in him. At least I hope so.”

“Heh. There’s my Jenny. Always hoping-“

“-never planning. I know, I know.”

He stood up and started to get ready to go.

“For what it’s worth, I’m at least sort of glad I knew you,” she said with a twinge of sadness.

“Same here. It’s probably best if we didn’t stay friends, but I’m sticking with that bakery. You can always come find me.”

And for the first time in years, she smiled at him- a genuine smile. “Thanks, Andrew. Good luck with your bitch detective.”

“With George and Darwin always lurking around? I’m gonna need it. Good luck with your crime lord.”

“I think I’ll need it too.”

They laughed, and then left, one by one.

~*~

Isabella was melancholically gathering her belongings from the bakery, occasionally swiping up a tear. Andrew walked in by coincidence, and she rushed to hug him.

“It’s not gonna be the same around here without me,” she mumbled into his chest.

“No, but it’s probably for the best,” he said, returning the embrace. “I’m so sorry, Izzy. It wasn’t fair for me to bring you into all this.”

“No, it’s alr… No, you’re right.” And with that, she couldn’t help but start crying again. “But thanks for being my dad, if only for a little while.”

“Dad, really?” he chuckled. “Sure kid. You changed my world for the better. Even if I hurt you.”

“I’ll never forget you. And… Well, I love you.”

“I love you too, girlie.”

She held onto him for just a little longer, before taking a shaky breath and grabbing her bag. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

He gave her a dim smile. “You’re tough, kiddo. You can’t stay shackled to someone like me, though. I know you’ve got the guts to do what’s best for you.”

She wavered, unsure if she wanted to hug him again. But ultimately, she steeled herself, said a goodbye, and walked away leaving a bittersweet taste behind.

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part four

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

"(y/n), my dad wants to know if you want to come over for the rest of the summer?" Ron asks, running after you as you near the portkey station.

"Really?"

You had heard all about the Burrow from your friends over the years. It sounded like a wonderful place. You had been friends with the so-called "golden trio" since your first year at Hogwarts but it was hard to really get close to them because of your different houses.. You were overcome with joy because this invitation meant that they enjoyed spending time with you as much as you did with them.

"Yeah, my dad agrees with us, you shouldn't spend your last two weeks of school alone in a big manor."

"I would love to!"

When (y/n) arrives at the Burrow, the first she notices is how cheerful and welcoming it looks in the dawn light. Then she notices a little woman with the signature ginger Weasley hair burst out of the front door and sprint towards Mr.Weasley.

"Oh Arthur- I've been so worried- so worried"

She then seizes the twins and gives them the tightest hug.

"Ouch! Mum, you're strangling us!"

The woman then goes on into a rant about how she shouted before they left and would never be able to forgive herself if anything happened. You couldn't help but smile at how wholesome the entire exchange was. Then the woman glances at you and is taken aback.

"Hi! Mrs.Weasley i'm (y/n) Deauxville, i've heard so-"

She cut you off excitedly.

" You're (f/n)'s daughter. Your father and I went to Hogwarts together. You look just like him with that hair! How is he these days?"

"He's alright. He's decided to take a couple years to travel around Europe and expand his business now that me and my brother are old enough to look after ourselves." You lie while flashing her an extra bright smile.

"Good for him! You know, your father was quite the charmer during his Hogwarts day, In fact he used to date my best friend at the time, Cassidy Blavatsky, and -"

She dove headfirst into a story about your father serenading a girl next to the black lake while she ushered you into the kitchen. Fred and George grab the newspaper from Mr. Weasley's hands. The group argues about a false article concerning the death eater attack published by Rita Skeeter.

"Blimey, Ron, looks like (y/n)'s stolen the love of your life." George says, staring at the paper, hiding a smile.

"Always knew those bulgarians had a thing for veelas." Fred comments, his eyes never leaving the newspaper. You yank it out of your twin's hands.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Your eyes scan the paper until you find it. It's that picture that Rita Skeeter took of you and Krum shaking hands after the game. Below it reads:

HAS BULGARIAN QUIDDITCH STAR FALLEN FOR REAL ESTATE HEIRESS?

After his defeat last Sunday, Viktor Krum was spotted canoodling with millionaire (f/n) Deauxville's daughter. Witnesses say that they saw her trying to cheer the seeker up after Bulgaria's staggering loss . Miss Deauxville is currently in her fourth year at Hogwarts while Viktor Krum is in his last year at Durmstrang. The Daily Prophet has reached out but both of them have declined to comment on the matter. Could this be the wizarding world's new power couple? Stay tuned for more information.

"You've got to be kidding me! I'm going to fucking murder her!"

"Murder who?" Harry says as he grabs the paper from your clenched fists.

"Rita Skeeter. She's the one who wrote this bullshit article."

"That picture looks pretty real to me." Ron asks, eyebrows slightly raised. You glance at Harry and he looks hurt, you brush it off.

He's probably just tired.

"Yes, but all we did was shake hands after the game. Everyone was shaking hands with everyone and I was trying to get out of there and-"

Hermione cuts you off.

"You don't have to explain yourself (y/n), we believe you." You smile relieved.

"Mrs Weasley, Hedwig hasn't delivered any letters, has she?" Harry asked.

"No there hasn't been any post at all dear."

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other then at you. Ron grabs your hand.

"C'mon, let me give you the royal tour."

You head up with them but instead of showing you around they go straight into Ron's attic bedroom.

"What's up, Harry?" says Ron.

"There's something I haven't told you." He starts. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Ron and Hermione's faces contorted between expressions of terror, shock and worry.

"What scar? It's probably just infected or something." They look at you incredulously.

"Oh shit you mean like the scar!"

"It hurts whenever Harry is near You Know Who." Hermione says.

Ron looks dumbstruck. "But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-How? I mean - last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?

"I'm sure he wasn't in Privet drive" Harry said "But I was dreaming about him ... him and Peter - you know Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill ... someone."

Hermione and Ron looked horrified. You were very lost.

You Know Who? At Hogwarts? Worm tails? Are they high?

They kept talking, forgetting about you. You were lost in thought trying to piece what they had just said together. They said something about Professor Trelawney, a prediction, more about the worm tails and something about being serious. Hermione gasped and dropped Crookshanks. They all looked at you with worried expressions.

" I am being serious." You answer quickly. Ron almost dies trying to stifle his laugh.

"No not serious, Sirius, as in Sirius Black." He chokes back.

"Like the murderer?" You say, confused.

"He's not a murderer! He's my godfather." Harry says defensively.

"What are you talking about Harry?"

He sighs and looks at Hermione and Ron.

"I reckon we should tell her." Ron answers.

" Tell me what?"

Harry starts "Well,um, last year, you remember Profesor Lup-"

Hermione interrupts him. "No, Harry, you have to start from the very beginning."

For the next two hours, you sit barely saying a word as they recount their adventures from the past three years. When they finish, Harry slightly shakes your shoulder.

" You okay (y/n)?"

"Yeah, yes i'm okay it's just a lot to take in." You answer shakily.

"Yeah um sorry for dumping all that on you" Harry says looking straight into your eyes.

" No, I'm honored that you would trust me with all of this. But why? I mean why tell me?"

Ron and Hermione look away from your eyes while Harry blushes.

"No.. um no reason we just wanted to burden you with this information for the rest of your life." He stutters a little bit.

"C'mon Harry let's go play some Quidditch. We can do three on three, Bill and Charlie, Fred and George too. You can try out the Wronski Feint..."

"Ron! Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch! He's worried about Sirius and.. And" Hermione fumbles for words.

" Yeah, I want to play Quidditch!"

She rolls her eyes at him and mutters "Boys".

The last two weeks of summer spent at the Burrow were wonderful. You had grown so much closer to Harry, Ron and Hermione and were almost sad to go back to Hogwarts because it meant seeing them less. As Mrs.Weasley hugs you goodbye on the platform you hear Charlie and Bill mumble something about " it's gonna be an interesting year at Hogwarts".

You, Harry, Ron and Hermione climbed on the train and went hunting for an empty compartment.

Almost as soon as you sit down in your compartment do you hear a familiar snobby voice coming down the hallway.

"...Father considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts you know. He knows the Headmaster..."

The sound of Draco's voice made your blood boil. You were still angry with him about what he had said during the attack at the world cup.

Just then Neville and Seamus walked into your compartment.

"Did you two go to the World Cup?" Ron asks the boys.

Seamus nods and Neville sighs.

"Gran wouldn't let me get tickets."

Seamus pipes up "Hey (y/n) I heard you were dating Krum, think you could get me his autograph."

"Oh god I'd forgotten all about that. Seamus it's not true, just some gossip columnist having some fun."

Seamus looked deeply disappointed.

"We saw him right up close, as well," Ron said. "We were in the Top Box-"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."

Draco slid into the doorway.

"Don't remember asking you to join us Malfoy" Harry said coolly.

"Not here for you Potter I want to speak to (y/n)" He looks at you with those icy grey eyes. " Why aren't you sitting with us? Why are you hanging around these-" He stops.

"What is that?" Draco points to Ron's second hand dress robes draped over Pigwidgeon's cage. He seizes it before Ron has a chance to put it away. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle start making fun of it while poor Ron turns beet red.

You tune it out trying to think of a simpler time when Draco wasn't such an asshole when he says something that catches your attention.

"So... going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know... you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..."

"What are you talking about?" Snapped Ron.

"Are you going to enter?" Draco continued. " I suppose you will, Potter? Never miss a chance to show off, do you?"

"Either explain or go away, Malfoy." Said Hermione. A flash of delight swept across Draco's face.

"Don't tell me you don't know? You've got a father and a brother at the Ministry and you don't know? My father told me about it ages ago... heard it from Cornelius Fudge himself. But then maybe your father's too junior to know about it, they probably don't talk about important things in front of him. If you really want to know, just ask your dear friend (y/n)."

"Draco, leave." You say looking him straight in the face. His smirk slightly falters and he slides out the compartment. Ron breaks the glass in a fit of anger.

"What was he talking about (y/n)?" Hermione snaps.

" I have no clue, I swear."

"What about that deal with the minister? What did he want?" Harry asks you.

You tell them about the deal, about Fudge's strange words and the ridiculous price they paid. After that the ride was strangely silent. Hermione was reading, Harry was sleeping and Ron was still too furious to speak.

"I'm gonna go see Daphnee and Millicent." You whisper to Hermione.

"Allright, say hello to them for me."

You head down the hallway and hear the voice of the last person you want to see right now, Draco Malfoy. Without thinking, (y/n) throws herself into the nearest compartment and hits someone with her elbow. One of your brother's friends, Jeremy, you think his name is. Red liquid starts seeping out of his nose incredibly fast.

" Merlin! I am so so so sorry. Oh god, is it broken?"

"Ah if it isn't my famous little sister, breaking hearts and noses, I see?" Nick chuckles.

Of all the compartments in this goddamn train, I just had to jump into his.

There are six boys in there: Nick, the unfortunate Jeremy, two seven year Slytherin boys playing wizard chess, one Ravenclaw boy sleeping and Cedric Diggory.

"How's Krum doing, by the way?" One of the Slytherin boys asks, not looking up from his game.

"Bloody Hell!" Jeremy mumbles as blood streams out of his nose.

" You look like a bloody hell." Says the Ravenclaw boy, having just woken up.

"Fuck you, Xavier" Jeremy says while spitting out blood.

" I'm so sorry, is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can start by getting the fuck ou-" Jeremy looks at you in the eyes and stops. His face softens. "Nevermind."

" What are you doing in here anyways?" Asks your brother.

"Hiding." You say quickly.

" He looks like an extra in The Shining, let's get him cleaned up." The Ravenclaw says while yawning. Everyone looks at him for a second before he elaborates.

" It's a muggle horror movie."

All the boys leave the compartment with a trail of blood following them, except Cedric.

" So you and Krum, huh" He huffs.

" Don't tell me you actually believe that crap."

" I don't know, could happen, he's famous and all." Cedric mumbles. Why was he acting like this? What did it matter to him?

"Well it's not happening, all Krum does is sulk and play Quidditch."

"What about our date, is that happening?" He flashes you his signature lopsided grin and your mind blanks.

"Date? What date?" You say slowly as you remember that night and the campfire. "Oh right! I didn't think you were serious about that."

He cocks his head slightly to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I thought it was just a conviennent way to get out of that dare because, you know, i'm part ve-"

"First weekend at Hogsmeade?" Cedric blurts out, giving you a shy smile.

"Sure." You answer while sliding the door open. Something hits you in the back of the head. You pick it up, it's a chocolate frog. You look back up at Cedric who's grinning.

"Heard they're your favourite." He says.

(y/n) laughs.  You're taken aback by his thoughtfulness because chocolate frogs are your absolute favorite candy. "Chocolate frogs are everybody's favourite."

" No, I'm more of a licorice wand type of guy."

You pretend to gag. "Cedric! Ew no. That's disgusting, licorice is horrible. I might have to reconsider this whole date thing." You tease. He shakes his head and smiles.

"But anyways, thank you, for the frog." You walk out and set off trying to find Daphne and Millicent.

Finally you stop at a compartment at the back of the train. As soon as the door slides open a flash of bouncy red hair sweeps you into a hug.

"(y/n)! Where have you been! We thought you missed the train!" Millicent shrieks at you. You peel out of her hug and go over to hug Daphne. You stop when you notice a third girl with thick chestnut hair in the compartment.

"This is my little sister Astoria, she's starting Hogwarts this year." Daphne

" Oh hello Astoria, I've heard all about you. Are you excited about going to Hogwarts?" You offer the girl a welcoming smile. Except for her hair colour, she looked like a clone of Daphne with her cyan blue eyes and her small round mouth.

" Is it true?" The small girl asks, her eyes full of curiosity. Daphne looks slightly embarrassed.

"About Krum? No! God has everyone on the planet read that dumb article?"

"No, about you being a Veela." Astoria says very fast.

"Oh, uh yeah. Well part Veela anyways. My grandma on my dad's side was a Veela."

"That's fascinating." She says dreamily.

"Not really, I can't do any of the cool shit." Daphne shoots you a look. " I mean any of the cool...stuff. I can't turn into a bird creature or" You start waving your hands in an overly mystical way. " Enchant men into falling in love with me. The only thing I got is glossy hair, I guess."

"How tragic!" Millicent snorts sarcastically.

"Sorry (y/n), we saw a Veela on vacation in Germany and my horribly annoying little sister" Daphne says while tickling her sister. " has been obsessed with them ever since."

" Speaking of vacations" You perk up. " How was your summer with the Parkinsons, Milli?"

Millicent turns pale. "Dreadful." She says, over exaggerating every syllable.

"Oh god, say no more." You reply dramatically clutching your chest as the girls burst into laughs.

Millicent's parents had decided to go renew their vows in Tahiti and had left her with Pansy Parkinson's family for the holidays. It wasn't a secret that you and Pansy couldn't stand the sight of each other and you felt terrible that Millicent had been stuck with her all summer.

"Sooo (y/n), I read that article about Viktor Krum and you." Daphnee says with a sly grin.

" You know it's bullshit, right?" You look at her worriedly. All the girls laugh hysterically.

"Of course! I can't believe people actually believe that crap." Daphne gasps between laughs.

" And to make things worse, he is SO not my type." You bleat.

Millicent shakes her head. " I actually think he's quite attractive." Yet again, all the girls start laughing uncontrollably.

The rest of the train ride is giddy and happy as you laugh at Millicent's stories about Pansy and think about Cedric and his perfect lopsided grin just as Hogwarts comes into view.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXVI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Super busy week we having but I hope you’re having fun -Danny

Words: 2,969

Series’ Masterlist

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Chapter Twenty-Four: Test of Patience.

"These are old, but we can fix them," Sirius handed a pair of Regulus' old robes to Erick. "Try them on, see if they fit you..."

Mel had mentioned during breakfast that Erick had decided to go back to Hogwarts, which pleased Emily a great deal. Sirius tried to hide his disappointment, yet another friend he couldn't keep around the house, but as soon as he heard Erick quietly mention he still needed to get robes since he couldn't borrow one from a bunch of Gryffindors, Sirius' spirits lifted, he dragged Erick out of the room and into his brother's.

The robes were a bit musty but they would do for a week at least, the twins joked about stealing a few from the school's laundry, but Erick blatantly refused to accept stolen items. Mrs Weasley promised she would send him the books as soon as she were at the burrow and Hermione had a few extra supplies for him to take back to school. 

It was clear that everyone in the house had adopted Erick and even though he wasn't entirely happy about it (He was having a hard time accepting that he needed their help) he did show lots of gratitude towards everyone.

As they were saying their goodbyes before leaving (they were going to take the Knightbus), she found a moment to talk to Sirius, but he was adamant to let her speak, knowing beforehand what she wanted to say.

"You go and have fun, alright?" Sirius told her. "Don't worry about us, I promise I'll take care of your mother–"

"Will you take care of yourself too?"

"Don't look at me like that, little Em," He said grimly. "Don't give me those eyes, you know I wouldn't put the Order's plans at risk..."

"You're building a family, you're doing something important," Mel held his arm tightly. "I'll never get tired of thanking you for giving my mum a second chance. Don't forget that."

"It was Mily who gave me a chance that I definitely didn't deserve," Sirius tried to joke, but his eyes were lacking their usual playfulness.

"Are you ready to leave?" Lupin patted her shoulder. 

"Please take care," Mel insisted, this time looking at both men, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You make it sound like we're the children here," Lupin laughed. "We know what we're doing."

"I'm just making sure!"

"Alright, time to cut the nonsense," Sirius shook his head. "If I hear you're wasting your time at school worrying about us I'll send you a howler— and look after Erick... he's good."

"I know," Her eyes wandered to the boy currently smothered with attention by Emily. "I won't let him do anything stupid."

Mel hopped on the bus with the rest of her friends after receiving her own hurried kisses and hugs, she felt slightly anxious about leaving them behind. Sirius was an adult, but it didn't mean he was wise, and her mother was unable to leave the house completely.

Being excited about a baby now felt ridiculous, in the middle of everything that was happening? Sirius Black's kid? How was her mother going to explain this to the world, if she wasn't supposed to have any kind of contact with a criminal? Mel had to trust they would find a way to make it work.

Erick's books arrived the morning after they got to the castle. Some people commented on the way his robes were old-looking, but Erick wore them with his head held high and no one dared to confront him about it.

On Monday people kept asking about the D.A. meetings, but Mel and Harry brushed them off saying they would use the galleons once the time came. Smith made a pretty nasty comment when he found out Harry was going to 'Remedial Potions', which was the way he had to refer to his Occlumency lessons.

Seconds after Smith had left, Cho Chang approached, it was the first time seeing each other ever since their kiss, and judging by Harry's attitude, he was fully aware of that.

"Oh. Hi."

"We'll be in the library, Harry," Hermione grabbed Ron by the arm and took him away.

"I, er... Fred, " Mel rushed back to the stairs. "See you!"

"So," Fred told her one night during dinner. "Next Hogsmeade visit... I just want to know what's the plan, are we going out or..?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't see the point, we're not a real couple..."

"I guess not," He replied. "We should still go, otherwise boys will assume we're no longer together—"

"I don't really care," Mel yawned. "They can ask, but I'm not obliged to explain myself."

"Would you go if I asked you though?"

Mel snorted. "Are you going to?"

"Don't laugh, you heartless witch!" Fred threw a bean at her, but he was laughing too. "I heard Chang and Harry are going together."

"Are they?" Mel looked over to the Ravenclaw table. "That's why she cornered the idiot... wait, how do you know that?"

"News travel fast," Fred winked at her. "Are we going, then? Are we making a scene?"

"Not the one you want for sure," She raised a brow. "But it could be enjoyable... never had a real date before..."

"This is not a real date—"

"I know that, but at least others think it is," Mel paused. "Wow, that sounded really sad. I don't know... I don't need to prove a point anymore..."

"Well, that's even better! The real fun can begin!" Fred finished his dinner and stood up.

"What's that— Wait! Where are you going?" Mel stood up. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

Some students gave her a few curious looks, Angelina walked up to her.

"Practice tomorrow at seven. Don't be late."

"Practice..? Oh!" She'd forgotten all about Quidditch. "Sure. Hey, guess which broom I got—"

"A firebolt," Angelina smirked. "George told me yesterday. That's great, it means we still have a chance."

"News do travel fast around here," Mel pouted. "Okay then, I'll see you tomorrow."

The girl hissed in pain, dropping her quill over her finished essay. 

"What's wrong?" Ron frowned. 

She closed her eyes for a moment and saw a flash of something, Harry's voice came from the back of her mind.

"What's in the Department of Mysteries?" 

Hermione and Ron stared at her. 

"It's Harry, isn't it?" Ron whispered. "That's so strange!"

Mel blinked, rubbing her forehead. 

"He's having a hard time with the lessons... maybe I should help..."

"Yeah, you should," Ron agreed. "Snape's an awful teacher— Why is he teaching Harry when Dumbledore's teaching you?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to catch Umbridge's attention," Mel shrugged, "I mean, students are used to see me in and out of the Headmaster's office, but if Harry starts to go as well Umbridge will try to see what's going on— And he's busy either way, he barely has time to teach me..."

"Are you in pain?" Hermione asked. "Maybe we should leave the library... if you start to scream—"

"No one's going to scream," Mel said defensively. "It caught me off guard! I can do this..."

She closed her eyes again, but this time she didn't try to see Harry, the girl held onto the edge of the table, breathing in and out the smell of old books and parchment, when she opened her eyes the pain was gone.

"It's over?"

"Yep," Mel smiled, continuing with her homework. 

Maybe it was that she'd talked things out with Harry and she could fully focus on the present, but she didn't have such a hard time trying to tune him out now.

"So rare..." Ron muttered in awe.

"What did you say before?" Hermione tilted her head. "About a department of mysteries?"

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" Mel frowned. "It wasn't me, Harry was talking about it with Snape, but I have no idea what that—"

"That's in the Ministry!" said Ron. "Maybe they're talking about his dreams!"

"Hmm..." Hermione said, lowering her gaze to the parchment. "It does sound like it has to do with his dreams... we'll ask him later."

When Harry found them, he was looking slightly pale.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah... fine... I dunno— Listen... I've just realized something..."

He explained further what Mel had seen, it was part of the nightmares he'd been having for months now, and he finally knew where that place was.

"So... so, are you saying... that the weapon — the thing You-Know-Who's after — is in the Ministry of Magic?"

"In the Department of Mysteries, it's got to be. I saw that door when your dad took me down to the courtrooms for my hearing and it's definitely the same one he was guarding when the snake bit him."

"Of course," Hermione said.

"Of course what?" Ron frowned.

"Ron, think about it... Sturgis Podmore was trying to get through a door at the Ministry of Magic... It must have been that one, it's too much of a coincidence!"

"How come Sturgis was trying to break in when he's on our side?" said Ron.

"Well, I don't know," Hermione admitted. "That is a bit odd..."

"He could've been framed," Mel offered. "Maybe someone tricked him."

"So what's in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked. "Has your dad ever mentioned anything about it?"

"Well, that's where the Unspeakables work, you know, Mel's dream job," said Ron deep in thought. "No one really seems to know what they do in there... Weird place to have a weapon..."

"Oh, right!" Mel hit her forehead softly. "I think Mr Weasley told me about it last year!"

"It makes perfect sense," said Hermione. "It will be something top secret that the Ministry has been developing, I expect... Harry, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah... fine..." He was rubbing his forehead roughly. "I just feel a bit... I don't like Occlumency much..."

"I expect anyone would feel shaky if they'd had their mind attacked over and over again," said Hermione. 

"How come you're not exhausted when you practice with Dumbledore?" Harry asked her.

"We don't spend the whole hour attacking each others' minds, sometimes I just meditate, I shut down my emotions so he can't see through me, and then I try to see through him... it's not so bad, perhaps because he's patient with me. Snape's probably not doing that..."

"And how come you're not feeling my headache?"

"Oh, she felt it!" Ron said excitedly. "But she... uh— grounded?"

"That's right," Mel said proudly. "Told you I could control it, I just had to find my way around it!"

Harry nodded, looking slightly perplexed. 

"Good..."

"Let's get back to the common room, we'll be a bit more comfortable there..." Hermione insisted.

"Headless Hats!" shouted George, as Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with a fluffy pink feather at the watching students. "Two Galleons each — watch Fred, now!"

Fred swept the hat onto his head, beaming. For a second he merely looked rather stupid, then both hat and head vanished.

Mel was laughing along with the rest of her housemates, she was giving out hats while Lee Jordan was receiving the money. She watched Harry walked away from the fuss in annoyed silence and Fred nudged her arm.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He had his first lesson with Snape," Mel explained. "Poor bloke, he's having the worst—"

Mel inhaled sharply and dropped the hat she was holding, she felt as if something had hit the top of her head.

"What is it?" Fred eyed her up anxiously, quickly holding her in place. 

"Call Ron," She closed her eyes tightly and tried to ground herself for the second time that day.

Ron had gone upstairs right after Harry, and once her vision cleared, she pushed Fred aside.

"I have to go..."

When she got to the door, she heard Ron desperately calling for their friend.

"Harry! HARRY!"

Harry was maniacally laughing on the floor. Ron was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Harry!" Mel called, but he didn't listen. In a desperate attempt to bring him back, she slapped him, the burning sensation on her own cheek quickly faded. Harry's voice died instantly.

"What happened?" Ron asked hoarsely.

"I... dunno..." Harry blinked, he sat up with difficulty, panting. "He's really happy... really happy..."

"You-Know-Who is?" 

"Something good's happened... Something he's been hoping for."

"Hermione told me to come and check on you," said Ron as he helped him to his feet. "Mel walked in right after me, 'Mione says your defenses will be low at the moment, after Snape's been fiddling around with your mind... Still, I suppose it'll help in the long run, won't it?"

Mel and Harry shared a look.

"Listen, I know I said I would mind my own business, but—"

"I could use some help," He admitted, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'd appreciate it if you could..."

"I can," She replied. 

‘MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.’

"There you are, Harry. That's why he was happy last night..." Ron muttered.

"I don't believe this... Fudge is blaming the breakout on Sirius?"

"What other options does he have? He can hardly say, 'Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort' — stop whimpering, Ron — 'and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out too.' I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and the Dumbledores are liars, hasn't he?" 

"What an idiot," Mel sighed. "This is bad. This is worse than bad... Poor Neville..."

She looked around the table, the boy didn't look sad that morning, and it occurred to her that maybe not all the students read the newspaper every morning, but some definitely did, she confirmed as much when the watch in her pocket warmed up, letting her know Erick had arranged a meeting.

"Oh my —" Hermione gasped.

"What now?" Harry groaned.

"It's... horrible," said Hermione.

Mel took the newspaper and the boys leaned closer to read along.

 ‘TRAGIC DEMISE OF

 MINISTRY OF MAGIC WORKER

St. Mungo's Hospital promised a full inquiry last night after Ministry of Magic worker Broderick Bode, 49, was discovered dead in his bed, strangled by a potted-plant...’

"Bode..." said Ron. "Bode. It rings a bell..."

"We saw him. In St. Mungo's, remember? He was in the bed opposite Lockhart's, just lying there, staring at the ceiling. And we saw the Devil's Snare arrive. She — the Healer — said it was a Christmas present..."

"How come we didn't recognize Devil's Snare..? We've seen it before... we could've stopped this from happening..."

"Who expects Devil's Snare to turn up in a hospital disguised as a potted plant?" said Ron defensively. "It's not our fault, whoever sent it to the bloke is to blame! They must be a real prat, why didn't they check what they were buying?" 

"Besides we were focused on Neville's parents," Mel lamented. "We didn't notice anything else... But I doubt that was an accident."

"I don't think anyone could put Devil's Snare in a pot and not realize it tries to kill whoever touches it?" Hermione agreed. "This — this was murder... A clever murder, as well... If the plant was sent anonymously, how's anyone ever going to find out who did it?" 

"I met Bode!" Harry said after a moment. "I saw him at the Ministry with your dad..."

"I've heard Dad talk about him at home!" Ron gaped. "He was an Unspeakable — he worked in the Department of Mysteries!"

"Holy fuck," Mel breathed, leaning back on her seat and pushing the hair out of her face. "This is terrible."

"Where are you going?" Ron inquired as Hermione leapt to her feet.

"To send a letter— It... well, I don't know whether... but it's worth trying... and I'm the only one who can..." She left without ending her sentence.

"I hate it when she does that," Ron rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, it's a bit exasperating, but we'll find out eventually," Mel said gloomily as they got up and made their way out of the Great Hall.

"Would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once? It'd take her about ten more seconds — hey, Hagrid!" 

"All righ', you three?" 

"Blimey, Hagrid, have you been fighting with Dragons?" Ron elbowed her ribs harshly to shut her up.

"Are you okay, Hagrid?" asked Harry.

"Fine, fine," said Hagrid nervously. "Jus' busy, yeh know, usual stuff— lessons ter prepare — couple o' salamanders got scale rot — an' I'm on probation..." 

"You're on probation?" Ron yelled in outrage, it was Mel's turn to nudge his ribs. "Oof! Sorry — I mean — you're on probation?" He asked again, lower this time.

"Yeah. 'S'no more'n I expected, ter tell yeh the truth. Yeh migh' not've picked up on it, bu' that inspection didn' go too well, yeh know... anyway... Bes' go an rub a bit more chili powder on them salamanders or their tails'll be hangin' off 'em next. See yeh..."

"Probation," Mel said through gritted teeth. "I'll give her probation..."

When she arrived at the library (alone, because Hermione was busy with homework as well as Ron and Harry) she noticed Erick standing next to their usual table.

"You read the Prophet?" Mel asked him. "I can't believe it! And Hagrid's on probation now, I swear things can't get any messier..."

"They can," Erick grimaced. 

Mel noticed someone was sitting behind him. Her eyes widened at the sight and she stumbled back, stopping when her back hit a chair. Daphne Greengrass stood up giving her a very grave look.

"Evening, Miss Dumbledore."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee​

[akp-1327]

dear diary // chapter three

Hey! Long time, no see! I am so, so, so sorry that this chapter is late. I’ve been having a bit of a busy time recently and haven’t had many opportunities to write/edit like usual. But now I have a looser schedule so updates to the series should go back to normal! 😄 I hope you are all doing okay wherever you are! :)

Find the series masterlist here to catch up on the previous chapter!

Word count: 4.6k

(*) Warnings: mentions of bankruptcy and emotional abuse

All I could see was red. The anger that flowed through my veins was terrifyingly smooth, leaving my entire body shaking. The news that my mom just told me, well, sobbed to me, left me in awe. In terrible, heart-wrenching, shocking...awe.

Sweetie, my mom’s sweet and clear voice bellowed through my memory, I’m so sorry. So, so, so sorry, darling.

“Charlotte, you need to calm down. Seriously. I don’t know what’s--” Leila said softly, her hands firm on my shaking shoulders.

At a time like this, I didn’t need her soothing me. I needed her to slap me out of this impending doom that I thought would tear me apart. I needed to get a grip on reality, to comprehend that this entire nightmare was actually happening.

“Leila, do you know what my mom just told me?” I huffed, throwing my phone onto the tidy bed that I had just made. Our first night in New York had started off amazingly, as if it was taken straight out of a movie; we met new and amazing people, found Leila’s wayward bag, explored the dorm building...

Then, when called my mom once we got back to our dorm...everything came crashing down like a colossal, teetering tower of Jenga blocks.

Leila scowled at me then, squeezing my shoulders harder. Her eyes, usually a coffee bean brown, looked inky black when her entire demeanor changed from confused to quite ticked off. I immediately regretted the tone I used, though there was no going back now.

“Does it look like I do? God, you can be so dense sometimes!” Leila stated, glaring right into my eyes with a look that sent a chill down my spine. “Something’s up and you need to tell me immediately.”

This wasn’t something that I thought I could even have the guts to say. But, sooner than I though, words started forming on the tip of my tongue at the speed of light; but one stood out in particular, one chilling me to the bone.

“Bankrupt.”

This set her back, making her hands falter a bit on my shoulders.

“What? Charlotte, I need deta--”

“The diner, Leila.”

The words slowly tore my heart into microscopic pieces. Every notable memory I had from my childhood took place at the diner. I could distinctly remember the scent of buttermilk pancake batter being mixed and the sounds of plates being stacked. I could remember the outside, the bright yellow paint standing out against the lifeless gray colors of the neighborhood that it’s surrounded by.

“T-The Golden Griddle?” Leila asked, confusion consuming her features once more. The intense look in her eyes slowly fizzled out and turned into pure fret. As she’d always been, Leila was not well-composed in these types of situations.

“Yes. There’s just too many complications with the building, too many expenses and so little money...” I sighed sadly. Tears welled in my eyes, though I didn’t need to show Leila that. And so, with a deep breath, I sniffled and shook my head to clear the emotions away. “My dad spent what he could to fix the cheaper things like the light fixtures and seats, but then he got carried away with fixing the rest of the bigger issues. It all added up over time, Leila. Now the diner...the diner doesn’t have anything left.”

The diner had so, so many issues for such a long time. The interior, for as long as I could remember, was small. There were only ten tables, half of those being booths that lined the walls, in total. The kitchen was also considerably compact for the amount of business that the diner would face. My parents always wanted to get around to renovate properly, but could never keep up with the overwhelming amounts of money spent on necessities like ingredients, napkins, utensils, advertisements...so DIY projects and repairs it was.

“But your parents still own it, right? They can bounce back?”

My heart yearned to be at home with my family. Why would I leave? God, I really am dense. Forget school, forget dreams. Home is where I should’ve been when that news was unveiled, not thousands of miles away.

“No. I guess the health inspector said that there were so many things with the building that set off a lot of red flags. He condemned it right on the spot.”

Leila’s eyebrow’s furrowed in thought. It was never easy for me to talk about these things - the serious things - with her. Of course, though, she knew almost everything about me; she knew that I was never the “open book” type and would always need a bit of encouragement to work my way up to talking things through. I’d rather sit and wallow in my misery than get help. The whole mindset had definitely not been ideal for anyone, but that was always the least of my worries.

The moment Leila looked back into my eyes was the moment she started to speak, her voice soft like it was before; again, I didn’t need to be sympathized, I needed to be able to see reason. This whole thing caught me completely off-guard.

Leila whispered, shaking her head, “How did this even happen?”

In high school, a very wise teacher of mine once said that there is no such thing as a stupid question, only stupid people who ask questions. However, by the looks of it, this was definitely an exception. Even with her ingenious, Leila had just asked one of the stupidest questions known to man. 

She knew exactly how this happened, and has known for years. The Golden Griddle’s financial instability had never, ever been able to be kept secret in a town such as Ceder Cove, no matter how many times my parents tried.

“Oh, wait. Sorry.” Leila stammered, looking up at the ceiling to collect herself.

“It’s fine. I just can’t fathom what my parents are going through right now. Henry, too.” I sighed, stepping back from Leila and letting my shoulders deflate. I slowly sat on the edge of my bed and crossed my legs, my gaze trained on the aged wood floor. “Even if I should, I’m not calling my mom back with more details tonight. This...this is just too much for me to handle right now.”

Leila was silent and I looked up to see her scrolling through her phone. 

Seriously? I cleared my throat to get her attention...but she didn’t even flinch.

“Leila. Are you even listening to me? Or...are you texting Skye?”

Leila’s eyes immediately averted from her phone to look at me. The smallest hint of a blush crept into her cheeks, though she played it off and rolled her eyes.

“Actually, Erin wants to take us shopping for the party next week when we’re available. Check your phone.” Leila stated, a defensive edge in her tone. I was the one to roll my eyes this time.

Now, let’s get this straight; I am not fond of parties. Leila had dragged me to each homecoming, each winter formal, and the two prom nights that we had. My date to prom both years, a guy named Harold Longhorn (a total snob), would not shut up about politics or the “oh-so-stupid” stock market. I only went with him because he said he’d tutor me for free with my AP Euro and AP Chem homework in collateral. Oh, and did I mention that his dad is a major entrepreneur in the Portland area? Wait, that’s unimportant; just like every single party I’ve ever been to in my life. 

“Do I have to go? I’d rather stay here and reread Pride & Prejudice for the millionth time or something that I actually enjoy. Dancing the night away doesn’t sound as interesting to me as my daily dose of Mr. Darcy.”

Leila scoffed and looked over at me again, her eyebrow quirked in such a way that left me a bit uneasy.

“News flash, Charlotte Parker, but Mr. Darcy is fictitious and will not save you from this.” Leila scolded, though she was playful about it. “I’m not letting you stay here because you’re a college girl now and you need to socialize with people other than me!”

“Ughhhh,” I groaned, laying down onto my bed and turning away from her and burying my face into my pillow that sadly smelt like home, “you sound just like my mom!”

Leila burst out into laughter that sent a faint chill down my spine. Whatever her plans were, she knew I’d loathe them.

“I’m glad.”

*

*

August 10th, 2020

Dear Diary...

Okay. Sorry for the radio silence. Lots has happened over the course of a couple weeks that I need to get off my chest. As Scar would say, be prepared...

First off, NYU is amazing. I’ve already met lots of (!!) people, though 4 have become friends! Two girls, two guys: Skye, Erin, Rory, and Ajay. They’re all really down-to-earth and genuinely cool people that I’m getting along with! 

Rory and Leila are really like two peas in a pod, and so are Skye and Leila. Leila is just a social butterfly, so she honestly gets along with everyone. Erin and Ajay, though, are more mellow and easy-going. Erin is so...laid back? Like she’s the type of person that you could spill your life story to. She’s just so, I don’t know... nonchalant? - definitely in a good way.

However, I feel more drawn to Ajay; we share similar interests and outlooks on life. He even saw my performance at Spotlite! He’s also a student director here at NYU, so if I do somehow wind up in the show, I’d probably work with him. It even helps that he’s kinda cute, but you didn’t hear that from me.

Overall, though, the campus is absolutely stunning and the view from our dorm window takes my breath away each and every morning.

Second, The Golden Griddle is doomed right now due to both bankruptcy and condemnation. My parents are all torn up about it, and to be blatantly honest, so am I. The diner has always been a home away from home, and now that I may have to face losing it forever...

Third, I HATE PARTIES. With a deep, burning passion.

Leila, if you’re reading this, then you can call me George Eacker: piss off because I’m watching this show - also known as Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist - now...well..when you’re at the party! There’s no way in hell that I’m stepping foot into anything resembling a disco or a dance or even, god forbid, a hoedown like that one during our sophomore year. Nope, nope, nope. Over my dead body.

All in all, I’m having a wonderful time settling into my new life in New York. Of course I miss home, but I also feel like it was time for me to spread my wings and learn to fly!

Alright. I gotta run. I’m going shopping. And, yes, it’s regrettably for this pointless party that I’m being forced to go to against my will. 

Talk, er, write soon!

Charlotte :)

*

*

“Ooo, what’re you writing about?” Leila asked, barging back into our slightly messy dorm after finishing with her morning routine. I hastily closed my diary and forced a smile.

“Um, it’s just the address of my uncle’s new house! Mom said to write it down somewhere in case I lost my phone.”

Shoot. Thank God Leila wasn’t really paying much attention to catch how bad of an excuse that was; she just turned her back to me and scavenged through a pile of dirty clothes already heaped in the corner by her closet. It’s been six days since we’ve moved in. I still haven’t really organized nor have I gotten around to calling my parents or Henry with updates about the diner.

“Right, right. He moved a couple days ago. Though, with our plans today, are you ready to go? Erin and Skye are already waiting for us downstairs.” Leila said, grabbing her purse. I gave her a scowl and grabbed my own, sighing as I slung it on my shoulder.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. But I have one quick question,” I said, finally catching her attention, “why are you wearing those?”

My eyes went to the unscuffed black stilettos on her feet; they had to have been at least 5 inches tall. She laughed and instinctively brought one of her ankles up to rub it as if she’d been in pain. The stilettos were paired with a pair of skinny and holey whitewash jeans and a black Shinedown sweatshirt with a crow and a butterfly printed in white; from what I remember, that was one of the band’s songs.

“I’m wearing these to the party so I figured I’d break them in a little first. And I need to find a dress that looks good with them, so why not?”

“Fair warning, you might actually break something else before you walk a block in those death traps.” I teased, making her huff. This was obviously not something she wanted to hear, but let’s remember who was dragging me to this stupid party in the first place. My sarcasm comes with the territory!

“Jesus, you make it sound like I’m breaking a law! They’re just heels!” Leila laughed, shaking her head. Her hair had been in two Dutch braids, making her outfit even more unique. To each their own, I suppose.

“Just heels that might put you on crutches,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I slipped my (comfortable) light pink flip flops on. We headed down to the lobby and quickly spotted Erin, chatting with Rory and Ajay, and Skye standing a little off to the side.

“Ah, there you guys are!” Erin grinned, running over and leading us over to the group.

“I thought this was a girl trip?” I asked, playfully eyeing the guys. Ajay gave a tight-lipped smile and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, it is. We were just heading out to find Rory another outfit that he apparently needs because his six other ones aren’t enough.” Ajay explained, making direct eye contact with me. I could see the different blends of brown tinges in his eyes - the light from both the windows and the bulbs above hitting just the right angles - shimmer behind his glasses. I also noticed that he was wearing a simple green t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts with black Nike’s. 

Wait, what?

“I may have a slight obsession with shopping,” Rory said sheepishly, slowly creeping away from the group, “but I also need something fresh. I can’t be seen in the same maroon shirt that I wore to--”

Ajay’s groan interrupted him but he followed in Rory’s footsteps with a small shrug. “We’ll be going now. Have fun.”

I immediately felt myself missing his eyes. The brown sparkles that caught my own. Was it so wrong to find his eyes...gorgeous? Didn’t think so.

As they waved goodbye, Leila migrated from my side to Skye’s. The redhead looked particularly sad today, but let out the slightest trace of a smile when Leila started talking to her.

“So, where’re we going to go first, o’ wise Erin?” I asked, turning to her. She looked a bit lost in thought, a bit dazed when our eyes met, but I could tell she regained herself before she answered.

“Well, I thought we’d take a trip to The Shops today,” Erin said smugly, her hand resting on her hip, “we can take an Uber in case we want to make other stops along the way!”

Skye visibly revolted at the thought, her arms tightening around her chest and her glower intensifying. The way her blue eyes darkened was just a bit unsettling, too.

“Okay. Sounds good...” I sighed, gripping my leather purse strap a bit tighter.

“Sure,” Skye groaned, “good. Great. Grand. Just how I wanted to spend my day.”

*

*

The nearby mall, The Shops, had a wide array of stores that we buzzed in and out of, Erin and Leila eagerly leading the way.

“You know,” I said, looking over at Skye, “I really don’t understand why we need new clothes for this party.”

Skye shrugged. “Me neither. I never really had to get new clothes for the banquets that I went to as a kid with my parents.” 

I instantly noticed that her hands were in tight fists at her sides.

“What do your parents do?” I asked, trying to keep her talking. I really wanted to get to know her better; she was still such a mystery and I was destined to change that.

Though, the bitter grimace she gave at the question was all the hint that I needed to know that I’d said something wrong, maybe even crossed a line.

“They do nothing but make a lot of money and prioritize themselves over anything else, even their own kids.”

Oh, wow. I blinked rapidly, willing my brain to say, something, anything, to break the agonizing silence building between us.

“Oh. I’m sorry I brought it up.” I stammered, though she shook her head.

“It’s okay. It’s just...not something I really like to talk about.” Skye sighed, almost ruefully. Despite my pending curiosity, I left the topic be.

“What’re you here in New York to do, Skye?” I asked instead, hoping to lighten her spirits a little. When she looked back over at me, she gave me a neutral expression.

“Graphics,” Skye stated, her tone firm and assured, “I want to be a graphics designer.”

“That’s really interesting. Have you designed anything yourself?”

Sadly, before I could hear her answer, Erin and Leila gasped in unison and pointed to a store. A quick glance at the shop name was enough to make me roll my eyes.

“Windsor! Yes!” Leila squealed, bolting into the store without a second thought. Erin rushed after her, gesturing for Skye and I to follow.

Several racks of dresses filled the store and even lined the walls, some popping with bright color and some glittering with infinite sparkle. I watched Leila pluck several dresses off their racks and fold them over her arm, shaking my head.

“Wow, look at this abomination.” Skye murmured, plucking a dress made of plastic (well, not literally, but basically) off the rack. It was a flamingo pink and looked like something a Barbie doll would wear. A laugh escaped her as she sifted through and pulled out the other options, the colors ranging from a vibrant cobalt to a neon yellow.

“I’ve always wanted to be Barbie disguised as a highlighter! Skye, how’d you know?” I giggled, taking a resembling green one off the same rack. My poor eyes ached at the sight of all the vivid colors.

“Pure intuition, obviously.” Skye responded, putting the dresses back on the rack. “Jeez, I could never wear any of these.”

I could agree; I would never be able to pull any of these off. Also, it didn’t help that they were so effervescent and looked severely uncomfortable. (I mean, how do you even move in that kind of material?)

“Me neither,” I said wistfully, plucking another dress off a nearby rack. It was a black sweetheart-necklined dress that cut off at (what I’d say) the knee. It had some lace detailing on the straps and a few sparkles scattered across both the bodice and the skirt. It wasn’t over-the-top, nor was it boring...

I held it up to Skye, making her jump back a little with surprise. I giggled and closed an eye, coming to a conclusion about how this dress would look incredible on her.

“Whoa, what’re--” Skye asked, her eyes widening. I smiled warmly and laid it over her arm.

“I think this is a good option for you, and I’m guessing your a 4?” I smirked, watching her gape in both confusion and amusement.

“How’d you...know?”

“Pure intuition, obviously.” I playfully mocked, making her crack a tiny smile. As we continued throughout the store, we came across a few more ridiculously bright options, thankfully not made out of a faux plastic. 

About five minutes into our little exploration, I spotted a dress; it was a silvery mauve skater dress with a flowing skirt and spaghetti straps. By some sort of force, it spoke to me.

“That’s pretty,” Skye said, nodding in approval as I held it up, “ it definitely speaks ‘girl who can read minds’ to me.”

Oh jeez, she’s cool. She’s really cool.

“Perfect, it’s just what I’m looking for, then,” I joked, folding the dress over my arm and walking further into the store. Erin and Leila, practically having the time of their lives, had their arms brimming with dresses that ranged from super glittery to extremely bright. I could swear I could see a familiar highlighter yellow in Leila’s stack, but that could just be my mind playing tricks on me.

Speaking of Leila, I stifled a giggle as I watched her wobble around in her stilettos, grimacing whenever she walked too fast. Not to say I told you so, Leila, I thought, but...I told you so.

“Ladies!” Erin squealed, pointing back to the dressing room area with her free hand. “Let’s go try these on!”

*

*

“How about this masterpiece?” Leila giggled, sauntering out of the dressing room. Erin burst into laughter, Skye rolled her eyes, and I, well...

“Oh my God, Leila...” I playfully gagged, covering my eyes. Turns out that she really did pick out a highlighter dress to try on. After a few laughs, she turned around and changed into a royal blue dress with a deep V neckline. It was sparkly, sassy, and overall...very Leila.

*

*

“Wow, you look great, Skye!” I cheered, giving her two thumbs-up as she examined herself in the mirror. The dress was a perfect fit and she seemed to be comfortable in it. Her hands idly fiddled with the skirt, experimentally flicking it back and forth in thought.

“It seriously looks amazing on you!” Erin smiled, nodding with approval. Skye gave me a small, appreciative smile in the mirror.

I took a quick glance over at Leila and was met with her wide eyes and deep red cheeks.

*

*

“Charlotte, phew, you look hot!” Leila whistled, gesturing for me to spin around. I didn’t really gush over the “dream dress” as much as I had hoped. In fact, the more I looked at it, the more I disliked it.

“Maybe we can find a different color?” I said, looking back at Erin’s face; she definitely did not like it. She shot up out of her chair and came back a moment later with a similar option. It was the same style of dress but in a jade green shade instead. It was also not as shimmery, but more dull and had ruffles on the neckline.

I ducked back into the dressing room and quickly changed. With just a glance at myself now, I knew I found the one. I stepped back out and saw everyone’s face light up.

“Yup,” Erin said smugly as she crossed her legs, “that’s the one.”

*

*

Erin walked out in a tight-fitting midi white dress that popped against her flawless chocolate brown skin. It had a plunging V-neck and a small slit on the left side that climbed all the way up toward the middle of her thigh. Needless to say...she was killing it.

“Now I just need some hoops...” Erin mumbled as she examined herself. Leila looked over at me and just gaped.

“Stunning!” I said, and Erin gave me a warm and self-satisfied smile.

*

*

Finally, we were heading home in an Uber. But because of how long the shopping took, we decided to stop and get some ice cream from a local parlor; all after persuading the driver to wait for us with a hefty tip.

Erin munched on a mixture of raspberry and vanilla, Leila got creamsicle all over her face, Skye picked at her brownie swirl, and I delightfully ate two scoops of cake batter.

“So. Are you two excited about going to this party now?” Erin asked, eyeing Skye and I. At the same time, we both shook our heads.

“New dress, same feelings.” Skye sighed, looking down into her dish. I nodded in agreement only to hear a dramatic sigh from Leila.

“You two will have fun. We’ll find fun things for you guys!” Leila grinned, glancing at Erin. The two shared a look that, like all the times before, sent a chill down my spine.

“You guys can’t make us have fun.” Skye said, figuring her face was serious; but I looked over to see a teasing smirk on her face.

“Well, we can sure as hell try! Besides, what do you guys have against parties?” Erin said, her tone a bit more tame then it was before. My eyes averted from theirs, and without looking, I could tell Skye was doing the same.

Awkward silence wracked the table for what seemed like hours before Skye spoke up.

“You can thank my parents for being the pessimistic and narcissistic assholes that they are. My distaste originates from them.” Skye said, her teasing tone completely replaced with a hiss. She spoke in a mumbled tone, as if she wished she didn’t want to speak.

“I’ve just never been really...happy with the ones I’ve gone to in the past.” I added awkwardly. I thought about the one good party I went to...and of course it had to be from the diner. Emotions bubbled in my throat and were about to escape before Leila (thankfully) interjected with a disapproving groan.

Then, right after, all three of us got looks of unbridled hope and amusement from Erin.

“That’s going to change because, dearest freshmen, you’ve never experienced a party quite like a college party.”

And it can stay that way, I thought.

*

*

The rest of the ice cream was eaten alongside lighter conversation, and then, FINALLY, we were back in the dorms.

The afternoon flew as I decided to buckle down and unpack the remainder of my things. Leila went to hang out with Erin and Skye (without heels, if you were wondering) as I slaved away at stacking my t-shirts in my closet, that is until I got a knock at my door.

As soon as I opened it, I saw a familiar pair of gorgeous eyes lock onto mine.

“Hi, I know this is kinda weird,” Ajay said casually, “ but I have a question for you.”

I leaned against the door, praying I didn’t look like an uncoordinated mess. “It’s not weird at all, actually. Shoot.”

God, his eyes are just breathtaking in any and every way. Was it weird to be obsessing over an acquaintance’s eyes like this? Yes, I thought, yes it was.

“Well, since we really don’t want to go to the party, I was hoping we could try to get something out of it?”

What does he mean? If we didn’t want to go, what good would we be able to get out of it?

I tipped my head a bit to the side in curiosity and felt some of my blonde hair come loose from its bun.

“Let me escort you. To the party.”

Wait, was that an actual thing? An escort to a college party? No way. It sounded so childlike, almost like something an elementary kid would say.

“Hang on. Do you mean, like, as a date?” I asked, my tone packing more intensity than I had hoped. His eyes widened and he shook his head.

“No, no. I just want to get to know you better. I thought that this would be a better option than hunting you down in a huge mass of drunk people and ending up not being able to find you.” Ajay explained, a light smile tugging at his lips. “So...?”

Maybe spending the night with someone with the same ideals as me would make the night less dreadful, perhaps even fun. I barely gave the idea a thought before words left my mouth. 

“Sure, Ajay, I’ll be your escort.”

[varietywritings]

SOLACE

Draco Malfoy x OC!Esme Prewett

Solace Summary

CHAPTER ONE: THE SUNSET IS THE SAME FROM BRISTOL TO LONDON

Esme Prewett sat at her desk; the wood color was unknown even to her as it was covered in spare parchment, books, quills, and some liquorice wands—these were her favorite wizarding candies. Her audacious tabby, Sebastian, tried to fit his massive body between a pile of muggle books and an open bottle of ink. The ink tipped, spilling all over Esme’s notes from the wizarding book, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. Though this would be her third time reading the book and the notes weren’t for anyone but herself as it was summer, she cursed at the cat; Sebastian looked satisfied by his accomplishment.

A loud peck on the window startled Esme, causing her to forget all about her desecrated notes. Ron’s fiery owl, Pigwidgeon, stood on her window sill, staring at Esme with his gleaming amber eyes. She smiled, sliding the window open so the small bird could enter her room. Esme untied the letter and small parcel from his leg and he began to bounce around impatiently as she read it.

Dear Essie,

We miss you over here. Mum has been intense, making us clean all the time. We’re so bored. I don’t know if they’ve written to you, but Fred and George have created loads of new joke products and we’re the test subjects. Professor Lupin nearly ate a fainting fancy. Luckily, George smacked it out of his hand. Mum was furious; it was truly hilarious.

Professor Lupin? She thought. Why would he be at The Burrow? Why is Molly making them clean? Her house cleans itself. She shrugged her confusion away and continued reading. Pigwidgeon began rapidly flying around her room; Sebastian followed him with his eyes.

Oh, Dad and Percy got into it the other day. He was promoted at the Ministry. He’s so far up Fudge’s arse that he neglects his own family. What a load of bollocks. Have you heard from him? Mum and Dad are very upset. Dad’s broken countless muggle artifacts and mum will not stop crying. He said some really awful things about not accepting us as his family anymore.

Bill is back home by the way. He took a desk job at Gringotts. I think he misses Egypt more than he lets on. You remember Fleur Delacour, right? He’s been giving her English lessons. I think he fancies her, but he won’t admit it.

Why on earth would Bill have taken a desk job? He loved the tombs. He loved Egypt. Things weren’t adding up to Esme; nevertheless, she kept reading.

It’s weird not having you spend the summer with us. I’m guessing you’ve got a lot of reading done. Hermione has too. How has your mum been? Is she even home?

I’ve attached a bag of liquorice wands. I figured you were running out. Tell Seb I miss him and I wish he were here in place of Crookshanks. Are you packed and ready for Hogwarts?

Can’t wait to hear from you,

Ron

PS: Pig couldn’t wait to visit. I’m sure he’d love it if you let him stay for a bit.

Esme sighed as she looked around her messy room. She wasn’t leaving for Hogwarts for a couple weeks, so she didn’t feel a need to pack just yet. She added Ron’s letter to the immense stack of letters she had received since her mother cut her off from the Weasley’s. There were several from Bill and Charlie, Ron sent her one weekly, Fred and George sent a couple, and Ginny sent almost as many as Ron. Esme loved receiving letters from her cousins as she was used to practically living with them until reports of Voldemort’s return surfaced via Harry. Esme believed him even though it pained her to admit. Sadly, her muggle mother believed him too and refused to let her interact with the wizarding world. As a result, Esme carefully hid the letters in her sock drawer.

She had been trapped in Bristol all summer while her mother traveled on business. As nice as the silent—apart from the occasional meow from a hungry Sebastian—house was when she was trying to get work done, she was lonely. She missed the terrible pranks Fred and George played, helping them plan those pranks, talking with Ginny, chess with Ron.

Esme laughed to herself at the sprightly little owl who had now landed back on her nightstand. Sebastian, still on her desk, was starting to drool on the parchment. Esme snarled her nose slightly, but she refused to bother him. She grabbed a clean piece of parchment and some fresh ink and began thinking of her response to Ron. She took her time so Pig was well rested.

Dear Ron,

I miss you guys too!  I’m sorry you’re bored. I am too. Can only read so much. Fred and George haven’t written to me in a few weeks. Are they still apparating everywhere? They told me they were using each other as testers and Aunt Molly thought they had been fighting.

Why was Professor Lupin at the Burrow? Is everything okay? And Bill? Why did he move back? Egypt was his favorite place on Earth. I’m happy for him and Fleur. He hasn’t written to me in a bit.

Percy has written to me, but he didn’t mention the promotion or his quarrels with Uncle Arthur. I can’t believe Percy would say things like that.

I wish I didn’t tell me mum about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She freaked out. I get it, but she has to let me live. She’s not even here, and if she was, how could she possibly protect me?

I can’t wait to get out of this gloomy house and out of this town. Sebastian misses you guys. He is restless without you and the twins torturing him. He misses watching me destroy you in wizard’s chess and frankly I do too. Tell everyone I love and miss them. Tell Gin I’m awaiting her next letter.

Pig was a delight to have today. Thank you so much for the liquorice! Also, of course I am packed for Hogwarts. You know me, always prepared.

See you soon,

Esme

Esme threw the quill down on her desk and quickly rolled up the smudge-free parchment. She reused the leather strip Ron had sent to tie her letter to Pigwidgeon’s thin leg. His excitement heightened as she tightened the knot. He almost looked as if he was smiling. She petted his grey and white feathers before he took flight out the window and back to 12 Grimmauld Place—or the Burrow as Esme thought.

✶✶✶

Esme was up rather late redoing the notes Sebastian so gracefully destroyed. She didn’t mind though; it gave her a chance to make them neater. Esme could swear she heard the front door creak open, but decided ultimately that she had just stayed up entirely too late and was incapable of proper cognitive functioning. She closed the newest ink bottle she was using and got up from her desk. She saw a sleeping Sebastian on her bed and decided to join him until she heard a loud thud from the living room downstairs. She quietly ran to her desk and pulled the middle drawer open, grabbing  her spruce wand with a white-knuckle grip.

It’s probably just your mother home early from her trip. She thought. She checked the time: 1:34 A.M. Her flight could not have landed this late. She was hesitant to open her bedroom door. It could definitely be your mother, but it could also be a murderer or two. It’s probably fine, right? How often do bad things truly happen? But Voldemort is back. Bollocks. She reaches for the door knob, but then pulls her hand away and backs up. The staircase creaks as if multiple people were walking up it.

“It’s going to be less dangerous to take her than Harry.” An unfamiliar female whisper came from the hallway.

Esme furrowed her brows and adjusted her ever-tightening grip on her wand. Less dangerous? Where exactly do they think they’re taking me?

Esme’s bedroom door flew open and a gust of wind disturbed Sebastian. The light from the hall made it difficult for Esme to see because her room was dark. Once her eyes adjusted, they met with the eyes of an unfamiliar face. She was a witch with violet hair. Esme froze before her, her heart beating at an unnatural pace.

“Ron said you’d packed already.” This violet-haired witch sighed, leaning against the door frame.

“I’m so—who are—” Esme tried to gather her thoughts to speak.

“Ms. Prewett.” A familiar voice came from a tall wizard standing behind the witch.

“Professor Lupin?” Esme smiled. Her shoulders relaxed; she didn’t even notice they were tense. Lupin was her favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to date. “What are you do—”

“No time to explain, sweetheart.” Arden, tenacious auror, Harry’s godmother, and Esme’s hero stood beside Remus Lupin reaching his chin. The Arden Walker is in my home. Esme was ecstatic as she hadn’t seen her idol since she visited Lupin’s class as a guest speaker in her third year.

“I’m Tonks.” The violet-haired witch smiled. “We have to get you packed.”

Esme smiled back at her. “Where are we going?”

“London,” Lupin chimed.

“London? Where are my aunt and uncle?”

“London.”

Esme gave the three an incredulous look. “Why?”

“Again, no time. Let’s get you packed,” Tonks declared impatiently.

Esme motioned for Tonks to enter her bedroom. Lupin and Arden went downstairs to get the brooms. Esme opened her brown trunk and began shoving clothes and parchment into it. Tonks waved her wand and everything Esme needed—books, parchment, dozens of ink bottles, her cauldron, scales, clothes, and even her postcards from her mother—chucked themselves into her trunk.

“That works.” Esme shrugged. “Thanks.”

Tonks nodded. Esme picked Sebastian up and shoved him in his blue carrier. He was less than excited, so she placed a few treats with him.

“Locomotor trunk.” Tonks said with her wand in hand. The trunk hovered and followed her wand motions downstairs.

“Ready to go?” Lupin questioned.

“I need to leave a note for my mother. She’d figure out how to contact the ministry just to spite me if I didn’t.”

“Nonsense, I already left one explaining the situation,” Lupin reassured.

“Well, then I’m ready!”

“Can you fly?” Arden asked.

“Uh—”

“No, she’s terrible,” Lupin teased.

“Hey!” Esme yelled in defense.

“Well, can you?” Tonks questioned.

“Well, no. Not well. I don’t even have a broom. I—er—borrowed George’s for class my first year and nearly snapped it in two only three feet off the ground.” Esme looked to the floor.

“You can ride with Arden. Tonks will take your trunk and Sebastian can come with me.”

Esme was elated to ride with her idol. The trunk stayed just behind Tonks as she led it outside into the streets of Bristol. The Hogwarts Crest on the lid beautifully reflected the moonlight. She used her wand to place it in the harness hanging from her broom. Lupin started to put Sebastian’s carrier into the harness below his broom.

“I’m not sure he’s going to be okay with that.”

“It’s a straight shot. Less than an hour,” Lupin reasoned.

“Your point? He’s a cat. A very pretentious cat I might add.” The three aurors looked at her with blank expressions. “He’ll be screaming the entire way there.”

“He’ll be okay.” Arden placed her hand on Esme’s shoulder. Esme relaxed and gave in.

Remus carefully placed Sebastian’s carrier in the harness. Everyone mounted their brooms. The night was warm, but windy making the flight a little rough. Arden was amazing at controlling the broom. She landed it serenely and methodically in front of a row of houses not so different from the one Esme and her mother lived in.

“I forgot to get Dumbledore’s deluminator from Moody.” Lupin grumbled.

“It’s almost three. I’m sure there aren’t any muggles looking out the window.” Tonks justified.

“Plus, they’re the least of our worries at this point.” Arden maundered.

Esme and Tonks removed her trunk from the harness while Arden grabbed Sebastian and his carrier.

Lupin moved his head back and forth to ensure there was no one around. He leaned closer to Esme and whispered, “12 Grimmauld Place. Where would it be?”

Esme, confused at first, looked to the house numbers in front of her. She found they were labeled as 11 Grimmauld Place and 13 Grimmauld Place. She blinked and all of a sudden, houses eleven and thirteen parted and an identical—except for the dirt and grime—one appeared in the middle labeled 12 Grimmauld Place. The dark night was as silent as ever before. The muggles didn’t seem to notice the sudden movement.

Lupin swiftly walked to the front door, holding it open for Tonks and Esme to carry the trunk in and Arden to carry the large cat in. Lupin checked his surroundings before joining them and quietly closing the door behind him. The hallway was dim and empty. The house was silent. Arden sat Sebastian’s carrier down and opened it. He quickly darted out of the carrier and across the room.

“Let me show you to your room. I can imagine you’re just yearning to get to sleep,” Arden said in a hushed tone; her Southern American accent almost disappearing into a more plain American accent. “Hope you don’t mind sharing a room with Ron until Harry gets here.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Esme whispered following Arden upstairs. Arden placed her trunk and the now-deserted cat carrier in the hall outside the room. Why does Harry get to take my bed? Where am I going to sleep when he gets here? Esme was too tired to figure that out. She snuck into Ron’s room as best as she could—he was snoring lightly, but she didn’t mind as she was used to sharing a room with Sebastian. She didn’t bother to change and plopped down on the bed which had what seemed like a centimeter of dust garnered on top. She suppressed a cough. I thought they were cleaning all summer.

✶✶✶

After breakfast, Esme found Bill in the lounge going over some parchment.

“What’s that?” She asked hopeful to get some information from him. No one had explained why they were in a dingy old house in London.

“Jus’ some stuff for The Order.” He quickly rolled the parchment up and sat it in his lap.

“The Order?” Esme questioned.

“They haven’t explained everything to you?”

“Nope. Just arrived early this morning.” Esme sat on the couch diagonally from  Bill.

“The Order of the Phoenix: they’re a group of retentive witches and wizards fighting against You-Know-Who’s cause. They were active during the Wizarding War.”

“Who was in this group?”

“Well, Remus, Sirius and Arden, James and Lily Potter, The Longbottom’s, and—erm—your father and Gideon. Of course, there were others too, but their names are escaping me.”

Esme’s olive-green eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly; she was nearly the spitting image of her father, Fabian Prewett; she had a long, thin face accompanied by a long, protruding nose. “My—my father?”

“Yep.” Bill smiled proudly thinking of his uncle’s accomplishments.

“Is that why death eaters killed him?”

His smile quickly faded and he dolefully looked at his cousin. “Yeah.”

Esme looked to the floor. “And now you’re a member?”

Bill nodded realizing Esme wasn’t looking at him. “Er—yeah. Along with mum, dad, Charlie, Tonks, and a bunch more. Charlie’s staying in Romania trying to recruit witches and wizards.”

Esme looked at Bill again. “And Percy?”

He hardly winced at the mention of his name. “Don’t bring him up in front of mum and dad.”

“I know. Ron mentioned the promotion and his fight with Uncle Arthur in his last letter.”

“It was horrible. Mum hasn’t been in a good mood since. Percy doesn’t believe Harry saw You-Know-Who because Fudge doesn’t believe it. Dad tried talking sense into him, but it was no use.”

“That’a a shame. So, how do I join?”

“The Order?”

Esme nodded.

“You don’t. Mum won’t let you; you’re too young. Besides, we’ve got this handled.”

“Do you? You had to leave your job—one that you absolutely love—to join this Order. I want to help.”

“Es, you can’t help. Maybe when you’re of age, but hopefully by then this will all be over.”

Esme wanted to continue arguing but decided it was best to bite her tongue as she still had information to get from him. “So, Fleur Delacour, hm?” She smirked.

Bill was surprised Esme didn’t debate him more on joining the Order but ultimately didn’t want to question this refreshing turn of events. “And who told you about her?”

“Ron. He told me you’ve been giving her English lessons.”

“She just wants to improve at her English and I’m fluent, so what’s the big deal?” His cheeks were an almost unnoticeable shade of pink, but Esme noticed.

“Do you like her?”

“Of course I like her. She’s extremely kind, really smart too.” Bill was looking off into the distance, daydreaming of Fleur.

Esme started to further inquire about her, but a loud crack interrupted her thoughts and made her jump out of her seat. The twins appeared in front of the couch. Fred was holding Sebastian.

“You arseholes.” Esme’s voice quavered. Her heart was beating rapidly. “You apparated with my cat?”

“He was fine,” George said calmly.

“He rather enjoyed it actually,” Fred reasoned. “Jumped right into me arms.”

Esme’s blinks were slow as she was trying to comprehend what exactly went through Fred and George’s minds. “I’m going to take my cat now, if you don’t mind.” She didn’t wait for a response and reached out for her traumatized tabby who gladly snuggled into her chest.

“So, what have you two been talking about?” George asked.

“Sod off.” Esme sat back down on the couch; Sebastian curled up in her lap and started purring.

“Woah, Esmie. That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?” Fred smiled.

Esme playfully rolled her eyes at the two who sat on the couch on either side of her. “Congrats on passing your apparition test!”

“Thanks,” the twin boys sang in unison.

“Is it freeing to practice magic whenever you want?” Esme asked longingly.

“Not when mum yells at us for doing it.” Fred forced a laugh.

“Speaking of unbearable, how’s Margot?” George sneered.

“Don’t know. She’s been gone on a business trip the past week, s’posed to come home tomorrow.”

“We’ll see about that.” Bill laughed through his nose causing Esme to smile.

✶✶✶

The next couple of days were monotonous; this made Esme a tad anxious. She was almost joyed by Harry’s arrival as it was something that didn’t have to do with dusting every surface on every floor of 12 Grimmauld Place. Sebastian rapturously greeted Harry at dinner evoking a groan out of Esme.

Esme sat in the center of the table between Ron and Fred. Molly droned on and on about them all, especially Harry, being too young to be a part of the Order. She could tell Harry felt it was a load of rubbish as she did too.

Sebastian jumped into Harry’s lap, prompting Harry to shift to the left side of his seat to make room for the pudgy tabby. Sebastian sat in the empty space of the chair facing the table as if he were trying to join the conversations.

“He doesn’t need to be at the table.” Molly ordered.

“Sorry.” Harry mumbled.

“What is he harming?” Esme questioned.

“We’re trying to eat here.” Molly’s tone was stern.

Sebastian seemed to be offended as he glared at Molly.

“He hasn’t seen Harry in a while. They missed each other.” Fred chimed in.

“Yes, well, we’ve all missed Harry, but he needs to get down.”

Harry carefully picked Sebastian up and placed him on the cold floor. Feeling defeated, he curled up underneath Harry’s chair.

Esme carried on with Ron and Arthur throughout dinner. The conversation in the kitchen was trifling and whimsical until Sirius told Harry it was okay to ask questions. Molly blew up causing Esme to jump slightly.

“He’s too young.”

Esme rolled her eyes as Molly always used the same argument. Sebastian didn’t even want to be a part of it; he ran off to disturb Crookshanks.

Molly started to give in and decided Harry could stay for a bit and learn a minimal amount of information about just what the Order and Lord Voldemort have been doing.

Arthur convinced Molly to let the twins stay and Ron convinced Molly to let him and Hermione stay with, “Harry will tell us anyway.”

“Fine. Ginny, Esme go to your rooms now.”

Esme knew she could do better than Ron. “I don’t have a room. Harry took it. Besides, I was stuck at my house this entire summer because you made me tell my mother about You-Know-Who, so the least you could do is let me stay.” Molly’s face was an unmistakable shade of red. “Let me just add that I spent my summer researching legilimency.”

“Fine. Ginny, bed now.”

Esme regretted staying for the conversation because they weren’t given any information the Extendable Ears didn’t already hear for them.

She went to Ron and Harry’s room to gather her belongings, but found that they were already neatly placed in the hall. She exhaled deeply and turned around to find Arden walking up the steps.

“I can make you a bed.” Arden offered.

“Really?” Esme asked hopefully.

“Yep. Come on.” Arden’s accent, though subtle, was especially discernible in the last two words. She led her downstairs to Ginny and Hermione’s room where Hermione was telling Ginny everything that occurred in the kitchen.

“I’m going to make Esme a bed in here, if that’s okay with y’all.”

“Of course it is,” Ginny said.

With a wave of her wand, Ginny’s bed turned into a bunk bed. The top bunk, with white sheets and a comforter perfectly made, was for Esme.

“Thank you.” Esme smiled.

“Anytime.” Arden returned the smile.

She left the three girls to converse until they heard the creak of the floorboards that meant Molly was coming to check on them. They all dove under their covers and didn’t make a peep until they heard her heading upstairs.

✶✶✶

“Esme, you’re going to help me wash the dishes tonight.” Molly ordered.

Esme looked to Fred and George with pleading eyes, but they laughed and then vanished with a loud crack. She groaned quietly so Molly wouldn’t hear.

Esme stayed silent with every plate she washed. Finally, Molly was concerned as Esme was usually a garrulous young witch.

“Have something on your mind?”

“Hm?” Esme’s mind had trailed off to random things, such as which Ravenclaws would make prefect, which books she would need for this year, who Dumbledore would have hired for Defense Against the Dark Arts which brought her back to Harry not being allowed in the Order of the Phoenix.

Molly repeated herself.

“Oh, um just thinking about things.”

“Such as?”

“Just Hogwarts and stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Esme knew she was going to regret the next thing she said, but she couldn’t not confront her aunt. “Harry deserves to be a member of the Order of—”

“This is not up for discussion.” Molly almost dropped the rag she was holding to give Esme a flinty stare which was ignored. Molly began vehemently scrubbing the dining table.

“You-Know-Who does everything in his power to spite Harry. That’s all he wants: world domination and Harry dead. It’s inhumane to keep him in the dark about it.” Esme continued to scrub a bowl riddled with leftover food particles.

“Esme, I am warning you.” Molly nearly had steam coming from her ears.

“The ‘you’re too young’ excuse is a load of bollocks—”

“ESME JOANNA.” Molly had stopped cleaning altogether.

Esme didn’t flinch and continued, “—and you and I both know it. He’s the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts in our year, besides me of course.” She knew Harry exceeded her talents at the subject but couldn’t pass up the chance to rag on him.

Molly took a deep breath before speaking. “It doesn’t matter how good he is; I have a right to protect him.”

“You don’t have a right to control him and his every move. He’s not your chess piece. He’s not your son.” Esme put the sponge and the bowl into the sink and turned to her aunt.

“Well, I am the closest thing that poor boy has to a mother. I will not continue this conversation with you.”

“He has Arden.”

“Who didn’t take him in after they died.”

Esme rubbed her brow. “—and Sirius—”

“Who was gone for twelve years.”

“Locked away in Azkaban against his will, framed for thirteen murders. And Arden was told by your beloved Dumbledore that she wasn’t allowed to have him because she was a target.”

“That’s not the point.”

“That’s exactly the point. He has both of them now. His parents named Sirius and Arden his godparents because they wanted them looking after him.”

“I’ve been looking after him for five years. I can’t stop now.”

“I’m not saying you have to stop caring for him. He just deserves to know what is happening. You can’t keep that from him.”

“He needs to be protected.”

“How is he to be protected when the Order isn’t around and he knows nothing?”

Molly didn’t have an answer for this and Esme knew she had struck a nerve.

“Enough. I’m done having this conversation.”

“Because you know I’m right. Harry needs to be in the know, so he can be safe.”

“Esme.”

“If you keep him isolated from all of this, not only will he resent you, but he won’t ever be able to handle You-Know-Who.”

“Go to bed.” Molly pointed toward the kitchen door. Esme stayed silent and headed for the door. “Why must you argue me on every little thing?” Molly lowered her voice as Esme was leaving.

A/N:

Sorry this took so long, but the wait is over. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!

-Ghost

TAGS:

@virgiill @yourfriendly-neighborhoodfuckup

[bohemian-war]

DAY TRIP | BEN HARDY X READER

Hellooooo :D!!!

This is my second Ben Hardy’s imagine following @lion-wasczyk  ‘s request. I went to Windsor for the first time on a day trip yesterday and I absolutely fell in love with the city so I thought I could do this based on that trip. Something fluffy with Ben :’). 

Enjoy! 

Like/reblog/feedback’s always welcome and truly appreciated.  P.S. This might turn out to be longer than expected.                                                           ------------ “Are you sure you want to do this? You must be exhausted after your trip.” 

Ben finishes preparing his backpack by putting the water bottle in one of the compartments. He turns around with a smile and approaches you. He wraps you in his arms and you rest your head in his chest closing your eyes and feeling his heart beating calmly. Ben sighs and gives you tender kisses on your forehead. ”Y/N, love, I am fine, honestly. I promised you we’d do this. In fact, a day outside London is exactly what I need.” It had been a couple of days since his trip to the US to attend the Golden Globes. Rami and Bohemian Rhapsody had won two awards for best actor and best film and you could not be happier and prouder of the whole crew. You had agreed with Ben that you two would go on a day trip to Windsor & Eton together after he returned but now that you thought about it more closely, the jet lag might not be doing him any good and you could not imagine how a whole day's excursion could benefit Ben. “Are you sure that this is all about me? Because if you are the one craving for a movie, dinner, and perhaps other things... we could call it all off and stay in.” Ben pulled away from you a bit to see your expression. You were blushing so badly that went back to hide your face in his chest.  “No, no. I am fine. I swear.”

“Let’s go then.” You smile at Ben and grab your stuff. You were really excited about visiting Windsor. You had never been there but since you had seen the Royal wedding on television, you were looking forward to exploring the city on your own with the love of your life by your side.  Once on the train, Ben helps you to leave the backpacks on the floor next to the seats and you both sit down and admire the landscape. The whole trip lasts barely an hour from central London. “I haven’t been to Windsor since I was in primary school.” Ben laughs and his smile awakens your curiosity. “How’s that so?” “We used to do lots of day trips back then. You know that England stands out for playing an important part in History so when it came to studying certain topics, they’d take us to the place in question and we could understand the whole thing better.” It fascinated you the way he usually talked about his early days and how his eyes would shine by the mere mention of it. It could also be that you were too in love with him to see any difference.  “That’s incredible. The most I used to do was going to see a shabby play or to the circus. Poor animals. I couldn’t stand it.” Ben sighs and brings you closer while kissing your temple.  “I am sure you’ll love Windsor. It feels cozy and close to home.”

“I cannot wait to see it. I might find my Prince Harry and marry him there after all, as Meghan did.”

He snorts and denies with a funny head.

“I will never understand why you girls are all obsessed with Prince Harry. He is no one special. He just happens to have money.”

You open your mouth to complain.

“He happens to be a dashing Prince. You are just jealous, Ben!”

“Jealous of what? Of him having to deal with lots of responsibilities on a daily basis and not enjoying life as someone should? I am not jealous. I am grateful for not having to go through that the rest of my life. Thank you very much.”

You sigh and look at him with sad eyes

“You are a famous actor now. It does not make any difference.”

“It does. It is not the same thing at all.”

“Whatever...“

You rest your back in your seat and cross your arms in front of you with a frown and pouting like a child. 

“In my defense though...” Ben starts and leans over to whisper in your ear. “I can say that I can make you feel better than Prince Harry. I can make you wet your pants in less than five minutes. I literally can have you panting my name just with my look and attractive accent, darling. 

A deep heat wave takes over you and suddenly you find yourself putting your arms between your legs to stop the feeling of pleasure that you have begun to feel there. A tiny squeal comes out of your mouth and an old lady with shopping bags looks angry at you. You just want to disappear. All you do is feeling how you shrink in your seat. Ben sees you and laughs. You start punching him gently.

“You are evil!”

“Oh, love, you cannot even imagine.”

Once you both arrive in Windsor you are surprised to see that the place is quiet and pretty much empty. Everyone has returned to London to work after Christmas and you can walk with all kinds of tranquility without anyone interrupting you. When leaving the small station you realize that there is a small path that goes to the city center and allows you to appreciate the castle even more.

“Unfortunately, the castle is closed today as they are doing some works inside. But we can always come to see it again in the future.” Ben explains to you while looking up to admire the view and holding your hand at the same time. 

“I’d love that.”

“Maybe for our wedding day.”

You immediately snap and look at him with your mouth open. 

“Is that a proposal?”

Ben smiles looking at you and rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He ends up avoiding your gaze and takes your hand back in his. You can tell he is quite overwhelmed by the previous question. You got excited there for a second and really wanted to apologize but it’d make everything extra awkward so you decide to let go and not continue putting so much pressure on him. 

“Where are you taking me now?”

“It’s probably one of my favorite places in England.” Ben excitedly smiles.

“It must be good then.”

After going pass the museum, the Royal station and the shopping area you both end up going to The Long Walk (check it here. I did yesterday and the experience is gonna stay with me forever. It was beautiful!). When your eyes stop on the path that starts at your feet and the great amount of nature that surrounds it, your eyes become watery and the first tears begin to emerge streaming down your face. You did not know for a second if it was your excitement and natural reaction to it or everything was caused by the cold wind.

“Ben, this is... beautiful.” 

”The Long Walk runs south from Windsor Castle to the Copper Horse statue of King George III atop Snow Hill where there are impressive views of the castle. It is a total of 2.65 miles.”

Ben smiles proudly of his historic speech as he passes his view of you to the landscape in front of you. When you see that you do not react, he approaches you and surrounds you with his arms.

“Shall we?”

You smile and nod.

It takes you an hour to cross all the way but it's worth it. You both end up under the statue and watch Windsor from the hill while the deer run freely through the forest.

“I have no words to describe this right now.” You were astonished and overwhelmed by the situation. “I cannot believe that we all live locked away in our own world and get to miss places like this one every single day.” 

Bed nods at your words. 

“That’s why sometimes we all need a break to remind us of things like this exist for a reason.”

You sigh and look at him. Ben passes you back the water bottle and you drink while he observes you. The cold water runs down your sore through after the tiring walk and it really hurts, however, it makes you feel so alive that you wouldn’t change it for anything else. You both stay there for a while without saying a word when Ben stands up and approaches you. He kneels in front of you.

“I’d like to apologize.”

“What for?” You frown.

“For not answering your question earlier regarding the proposal.”

“Please, Ben, forget about it. It was stupid. You don’t need to beat yourself up.”

You sigh. You had completely forgotten about it and now that he was bringing it back again you started to feel sick. Ben looks at you with his shiny eyes. 

“The truth is that I have something for you...” He reaches for his bag and spends a few seconds looking for something. He takes out a small black box covered with a velvet bow. You put a hand in your mouth not believing that he would have been able to do it.

“Y/N forgive me, honestly. That conversation came out wrong and I was looking for the right moment.”

Tears are now streaming down your face. You wipe them away because they are starting to blind your vision of Ben and you also need to keep everything professional. 

“Y/N, listen, I might not be Prince Harry...” You laugh and shake your head while wiping your tears again.”I don’t own a castle. I am just an actor who happens to make films; sometimes even good ones, you know?”

You immediately reach out for him. You absolutely hate when he doesn’t give him some credit for his career. Ben lets you guide him towards you but proceeds with his speech. You can tell he is nervous but he is also under control as it’s the two of you in the hill. 

“But I am willing to sacrifice everything I’ve got to make you happy and if that involves talking about the Royal family and bringing you here, away from civilization, then I will.”

You feel dumb now. Your soul has abandoned your body, which is anchored to the ground, and your eyes are full of tears that never fall. You watch Ben open the box and you come across with the most beautiful engagement ring covered in diamonds and sapphires. 

“Y/N, you’d make me the happiest man in the world if you decided to give me a chance as your future husband. Will you marry me?”

They always say that it takes at least three seconds until you answer even when you have been rehearsing the entire situation for a while. You knew your answer but you couldn’t speak. You also had to think of what your life might be like now; married to a famous star. Lots of doubts start haunting you, however, you shake them away. You knew you had to fight against your anxiety. You had been very unhappy before meeting Ben. You never knew if you could make it as well as you did not know if this decision was being selfish but what you did know is that you deserved to be happy for at least five minutes of your life. So you start nodding.

“Yes!”

Ben smiles in relieved and helps you stand up. He puts the ring in your finger and that is when you cannot stop staring at it. 

“Ben, I have no words...”

“Y/N, don’t even mention it. Are you happy?”

You nod and start pouting at the same time. You were probably a massive mess at that very moment but you couldn’t care less. 

“Then that’s the most important thing in the world to me.” Ben stares at you and gives you a gentle pat on the chest. You surround his neck with your arms while he pulls you closer by the waist. 

“Joe’s gonna be jealous...” You laugh.

“Well, he’s got cardboard Ben to please him instead.”

You cringe and frown at the same time. 

“I keep thinking that’s a weird thing to do.”

Ben laughs and takes his phone out. 

“Should we immortalize the moment and send it to him?”

You both decide to take a selfie on top of the hill with the statue behind you both covered in sweat but happy at last. You open your hand in front of you to show your ring to the camera. Ben ends up uploading the photo to Instagram with the caption, "she said yes." #happiestmanintheworld.

It did not take Joe more than five minutes to answer with a "... I did it first" and a picture of him in a suit with cardboard Ben in a white dress. The rest of the cast complimented you sometime later. You indeed had to highlight Gwylim’s joy and the number of champagne emoticons and exclamations used by Lucy.

Before returning to London, you both stop at The Madame Posh for an afternoon tea and to start discussing the design of the menus for the ceremony. Because everything that promised to be a simple day trip ended up being the happiest day of your life.

[amara-scott]

With a Weasley?

Movie: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire Characters: Draco Malfoy x Ron Weasley's Twin!Reader Categories: __________________________________________________

Request: hi! I don’t know if you do requests like this but I’ll give it a shot. can I have a “Draco Malfoy x Ron Weasley’s Twin” it would be awesome if she was a Gryffindor and close to the trio! if not it’s fine! thanks so much!! love your writing! for: @jessicanicole212 __________________________________________________

Summary: Ron, your polar opposite twin, can't believe his ears after Draco Malfoy asks you to the Yule Ball. But to what cost?

Just because Ron is being a complete mess all the time, doesn't mean I was too. I get that with being twins, many people assume we have telepathic powers or could communicate with just our eyes. But we simply weren't Fred and George.

"Ronald! Pick your head up or your hair will soak with milk!" I taunt and slap his shoulder. I look forward at Hermione, who was rolling her eyes at Ron's lazy bones.

"You know, we may be related by blood but other than that you could be Hermione's sister." He groans and both Hermione and I send him a glare. Both of us knowing that he thinks we are both so annoying.

"Well, then I wouldn't have to stand you and your hair everywhere. Get a bloody cut." I grab my last piece of toast and stand up, Ron now trying to gulp down the rest of his breakfast.

"Wait for me!" I grin over my shoulder as he scrambles over to keep up with us. I bump shoulders with Harry and smirk as I see Cho Chang walking by. I don't completely like her but what can you do?

"She was totally checking you out, Potter." I wink and he stumbles over his own shoes, trying to find words and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"No- she didn't, but someone is definitely checking you out, (Y/N)."

"Who?" Ron pipes up and squeezes his head between mine and Harry's. I push him back by his forehead and roll my eyes.

"Malfoy." Hermione says and I frown at her, she nods over to the Slytherin table and I follow it with my eyes.

He is just looking. But soon he walks down a hallway with his serpent peers. The hallway we all go, to our first class of the day. Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"You're seeing things, Hermione, he would never look at her that-"

"Thanks Ron, such a great brother."

I take a seat next to Hermione and try not to look over but out of the corner of my eye I can cleary see Malfoy staring again. What was up with him today? I sigh and turn to my left side, facing him now.

"Do I have something on my face, Malfoy?" I get out harshly, folding my arms. He quickly looks away.

"How would I know if your face is covered with freckles or just the usual dirt, Weasley." I take a breath to get out a comment but our Professor interrupts, making me only glare at his smirk. I turn back around and Hermione gives me a small smile.

"He's not worth your attention." I nod at her and focus on the lesson, sighing at last.

But soon the lesson turns unbearable. Malfoy keeps obviously staring, which I start to ignore. But then they whisper and talk from my left. Distracting me. And as I look up to tell him to shut it, I see him focused on his work for once.

As I turn back around, a small bird lands right on my book. I glare at Malfoy, but he has his head deep in thoughts, writing down on his parchement. He must think this is funny. Next to him Blaise Zabini wiggles his eyebrows at me. I turn back to the paper, sighing and fold it open, frowning.

You, me, Yule Ball?

Underneath is a scribble of a questionmark, turning into a heart and back.

What?

I turn to look back at Malfoy and shake my head, my hair nearly falling out of my clip on the back of my head. He frowns but I don't spare him another glance. I look over at Hermione, her hand in front of her mouth, a grin plastered on her face as she tries to concentrate on the subject.

__________________________________________________

"He what?"

"Ron, she is not a three headed dog, no wonder why Malfoy asked her." Hermione says and bumps my shoulder. I thank her and glare back at Ron. His face pulling into a grimace.

"But why? He hates our family."

"He hates you, Ron. Because you're a bloody idiot."

"Now you're defending him? Where will this end? Next thing we know you're snogging him in the bloody girl's bathroom!" I stop in my tracks and they all three turn to me. Ron still breathing hard and Hermione looking back and forth between us, not sure if there are sides to be picked.

"I rather go with Malfoy to the Yule Ball than listen to your comments for a second longer! And you know what? I will tell him now." I spin around, heading back to the library, where we last saw him. I nearly run over a couple of people, searching the dark room. He is still sitting with Blaise and Pansy. Crabe amd Goyle probably don't even know how to read.

I hesitate, slowing down my feet. Am I really doing this? He is annoying and so smug. How can someone be that arrogant.

"Malfoy!" I call out and get hushed. I take the last couple steps and feel all their eyes on me. Blaise smirks and Pansy just raises an eyebrow, folding her book and looks ready to strike if I do one wrong move.

"I'll go with you." My heart is thumping against my chest, hammering so loud, I'm scared they might hear.

"What?" He asks, seeming genuinely confused. Or just trying to embarress me even more. Pansy starts grinning and Blaise joins her, sharing a look.

"To the Ball. You asked me and I accept." I fiddle with my fingers and- why am I nervous again?

He suddenly smirks, looking over at his friends and back at me.

"I think you must misunderstood something. I would never go with you, Weasley. Now, why don't you leave us alone and hope someone will actually ask you. Maybe Neville is still available, or that mudblood Granger." They start snickering and I gulp down my pride, taking a couple steps backwards and quickly spinning around to run off.

Down the hallway, I can't make out the people walking up front, my vision blurry. I bump into two people. They turn around and immediately grin at me.

"Hey little sister-"

-where did you come from?"

"Fred, I think she doesn't want to talk about her new boyfriend." George whispers loudly over to Fred and winks at me.

I feel myself close to crying, holding back as strong as I can. But before I can ask them to stop, they keep going.

"Dancing, spinning-"

"-and don't forget a good night kiss!"

They both start giggling like little girls and hum a tune.

"Idiots!" I push them both apart and run up to the Gryffindor tower, not stopping when Ginny and Hermione call my name. In the bedroom I finally let tears roll down my cheeks, pulling my blanket further up my body. Someone knocks on the door softly.

"(Y/N)?" Hermione quietly opens the door, closing it and I try to stiffle my sobs, closing my eyes tightly.

"What happened? What did he do?" I don't answer and just cry. Her hand rubs my arm as she sits down on my bed.

"You can tell me, (Y/N). Do I need to hex him?"

"No." I get out, sobbing immeditaly after. I turn to look at her and sit up, letting her pull me into a hug.

"H- he said- he said he would ne- never go with someone like- like me." I sob onto her shoulder and she sighs, still rubbing my back. Ginny comes into view and her face is pulled into a frown, her hand reaching out to my shoulder.

"It's Malfoy, let's not bother about him anymore. Come, we'll get lunch and go outside."

I follow them after cleaning up my tears. In the common room I see Ron looking at me with pity in his eyes. I only send him a glare and Harry pulls him off.

We grab a couple things to eat and head out of the Great Hall. But obviously this seems to be the exact moment for him to enter.

As we make our way past them, he looks up and meets my eyes. But not with a smirk or grin. Not even a small smile. It's blank. I pick up my speed and only stop when I hear my name.

"(Y/N)! Hold up." I turn my face to look at him, not wanting him to see how much this actually affected me. He tells his friends to go ahead and walks over. He is looking for words and doesn't even spare me a glance.

"If you're not talking in the next ten seconds, then I would like to leave." He sighs and rubs the back of his neck, finally finding my eyes.

"It wasn't me, okay? Blaise thought it was funny. He never thought- I'm sorry." He sounds hesitant, this must be new territory for him. Apologizing? For his friends?

"Okay." I get out and want to keep walking with Ginny and Hermione, both looking like they saw a flying ferret.

"-he only did it- he only did it because he knew I wanted to ask you." He grows more quiet at the end, not looking at me anymore, digging his hands deeper into his robe pockets.

I frown, stepping closer to him and catch his eyes. I glare at his'.

"This joke is over, Malfoy. It's not funny anymore-"

"-I'm telling the truth!" He insists, growing irritated and glares right back.

"Then prove it." He raises an eyebrow, folding his arms and sends Hermione and Ginny a look.

"How?" And idea pops into my head.

"Be nice to my friends for a week and I say yes." He raises both eyebrows now, hands falling to his sides and he starts to shake his head. I knew he wouldn't.

"Then good luck, Malfoy." I turn around and roll my eyes at Hermione, her grin growing.

"Okay!" I stop and look at Malfoy, still standing where we left him.

"Okay?" I repeat, not sure if he got jinxed. He rolls his eyes and steps forward, holding out his hand. I eye it sceptically.

"Okay." I shake it and start smirking. "You will loose." I add and he shakes his head, growing a smirk as well.

"Oh believe me, I won't."

_________________________________

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[xtruss]

David Petraeus on American Mistakes in Afghanistan

The former general defends Afghan troops and blames the speed of the withdrawal for the government’s collapse.

— By Isaac Chotiner | August 20, 2021 | The New Yorker

I just think it was premature to leave,” David Petraeus said, of the U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan. Photograph from EPA-EFE / Shutterstock

David Petraeus, the retired four-star Army general, served in the military for nearly four decades, eventually becoming the most famous and revered member of the armed forces during the war on terror and the war in Iraq. Known for developing a new theory of counter-insurgency, which emphasized winning the support of civilians rather than seizing territory, Petraeus was placed in charge of all troops in Iraq by President George W. Bush in 2007 and oversaw the so-called surge of forces meant to turn around a faltering war effort. In 2010, President Barack Obama, who had ordered a surge of troops in Afghanistan—a move opposed by then Vice-President Joe Biden—appointed General Petraeus the commander of forces in that country. Petraeus retired from the military the following year, and went on to serve as Obama’s C.I.A. director. He resigned from that post in 2012, after providing classified information to his biographer, Paula Broadwell, with whom he was having an affair. Petraeus later pleaded guilty to one count of mishandling classified information. He is now a partner in the global investment firm K.K.R. and chairman of the K.K.R. Global Institute.

On Wednesday, Petraeus and I talked by phone about the situation in Afghanistan. We spoke for nearly eighty minutes; Petraeus was passionate about how he felt the Biden Administration had erred in the withdrawal, and why he thought it was wrong to blame Afghan forces for the collapse of the government. He believes the U.S. should have remained in Afghanistan, and gave a full-throated defense of an active military presence abroad. Our conversation, edited for length and clarity, is below.

How do you think the situation in Afghanistan ended up where it is today?

It started with the Trump Administration, and not getting much of an agreement [with the Taliban], to put it mildly. We forced the Afghan government, which was not allowed to be in the negotiations about the future of their country, to release more than five thousand Taliban fighters, and didn’t get anything significant in return. And of course the new Administration came in and did a quick review and analysis and announced the decision to withdraw, which you may recall that at the time I said I feared we would come to regret. And I think we already have. That was a psychological blow, I think, the significance of which may not have been obvious to all.

Then you actually had the withdrawal. And this was not of forces in frontline combat. What we had were advise-and-assist units, who were located in the headquarters of the Afghan forces, and they include essentially liaison teams and tactical air controllers who can—with the aid of drones over the top of battlefields—confirm the targeting necessary for true close air support. We are not talking about bombing the mountain over there. We are talking about bombing as close to troops in combat as was possible. And that was quite an elaborate structure, and it was enormously important to the Afghans, who still had a very modest-sized air force. But if you don’t have the liaison teams with the Afghan headquarters who are sitting next to an Afghan commander who is getting radio reports from his people and often looking at the same feed of what a Reaper drone is seeing underneath it, it is really hard to bring serious airpower to bear.

So you have the withdrawal of U.S. forces, which includes not just the airpower but the systems and people who enable its use in close air support. And, somewhat overlooked, although some of us did identify this months ago, the departure of some eighteen thousand contractors who maintain the U.S.-provided Afghan air force and also manage the maintenance system. It is a huge system that involves supply chains and regular inspections—a lot of very sophisticated diagnostic equipment, tools, and this enormous logistic support structure to provide these spare parts in a very austere environment. And of course they are also being shot up by the Taliban.

That air force worked very, very hard. And they are trying to ferry commandos who are really quite good fighters, very well trained by our Special Ops, and well equipped. And they did go out in these early battles, and they were holding off the Taliban, but I think at a certain point in time they realized that there was nobody coming to the rescue anymore, nobody has our back, there is no emergency resupply, there are no reinforcements, there is no emergency medical evacuation, and there is no close air support. And I think that happened in a couple of cases, and those troops did what I think troops do in those circumstances, if they are left alone and isolated and no one is coming to the rescue. Along with local leaders of those districts or provinces, they either cut a deal or they negotiate a surrender or they flee. And then I think the psychological collapse of the Afghan military set in. And I think that was infectious. You talk about infectious enthusiasm. This was an epidemic of, basically, surrender.

Was there an error somewhere along the way, given that when we pulled out this collapse just happened? How did we not prepare for that in twenty years?

I just think it was premature to leave. Now, you can say, Well, when do you leave? Ideally you say that there are certain conditions. Let’s keep in mind that everyone is criticizing nation-building. Well, part of nation-building is developing security forces. It is developing institutions that can take over tasks that we were provided. Undoubtedly, there were innumerable mistakes made in the name of nation-building and infrastructure overbuilt. You can name the different shortcomings. But, again, you have to build something you can hand off. Keep in mind that, once we topple the Taliban, we own the country. It’s easy to say, “You got Osama Bin Laden. What are you hanging around for?” Well, because Al Qaeda will be back. If there is one thing we should have learned in the last twenty years of war, it’s that if you don’t keep an eye on an Islamist extremist group, it will come back.

You think that’s the main lesson?

Well, there are a lot of lessons. There are actually five lessons from the last twenty years of war, if you want to hear them.

Yes, please.

The first is that Islamist extremists will exploit ungoverned spaces, or spaces governed by kindred spirits in the Muslim world. It is not a question of if, it is a question of when and how it will be.

Sorry, General, there is some wind.

I was walking. The sign I am really serious about this, and giving someone my best attention, is that you walk the dog instead of doing it in front of a screen. Lesson No. 2 is that you actually have to do something about this problem itself. You can’t study it until it goes away. We did that for a time with respect to the Islamic State in Syria, and it wasn’t until they had generated enormous combat power, swept back into Iraq, established the caliphate in northern Iraq and northeastern Syria, carried out activities on social media to galvanize and instigate terrorist attacks. You have to do something, because what happens there doesn’t stay there. It’s not Las Vegas rules. It’s the opposite. And these situations tend to have violence, extremism, instability, and, most significantly in the case of Syria, a tsunami of refugees in our nato allies, causing the biggest domestic political challenges since the end of the Cold War.

No. 3, in doing something, the U.S. generally has to lead, and that is because we have such an enormous preponderance of military capabilities—in particular when it comes to the assets that are the most useful in the way we have been able to fight in recent years, which is by advising, assisting, and enabling host nations’ forces with the armada of drones we now have, and an unequal ability to fuse intelligence. Now, that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t have a coalition. We should. And let’s remember we did in Afghanistan. And you should have Muslim partners with you, as we did. By the way, the validation of No. 3, that the U.S. had to lead, is that, when the United States departed Afghanistan, the coalition countries all departed as well, even though many if not most wanted to stay. We know the U.K. wanted to stay. You saw people in the U.K. Parliament say, “We can’t do anything independently?” The answer unfortunately is probably not.

You are giving rules and saying why they are important, but, when someone asks why the things you say were necessary didn’t happen in Afghanistan in twenty years, how do you understand the answer?

It’s really complicated and complex! And you don’t take a seventh-century, ultra-fundamentalist, theocratic Islamist regime, now it would be an emirate, and turn it into a modern military power. You can say the Taliban did that, but they had bases in Pakistan, and that is something you cannot forget. That’s why, when I was nominated to be the commander in Afghanistan and, subsequent to that, I said we would not be able to accomplish in Afghanistan what we did in the surge in Iraq, which was seemingly miraculous to some people, but we believed we could do it. We knew we could do it. And we got that. I laid this out to [Defense] Secretary [Donald] Rumsfeld in September, 2005, when, on my way home from Iraq, he asked me to come to Afghanistan. And the first slide in the briefing was “Afghanistan does not equal Iraq.” And it laid out all the differences, all of which made Afghanistan the most challenging context in which to fight an insurgency. No. 1, the insurgent headquarters are outside the country, and the Pakistanis refused to deal with them. Beyond that, the country has very limited roads and other infrastructure. So, every time we increased bases, they had no money. By the way, the Taliban is about to experience this.

In any event, we were up to No. 3, which is that the United States, in taking action against Islamist extremists, has to lead. The fourth lesson is that, if you want to really deal with the problem, you can’t counter terrorists like Al Qaeda or the Islamic State with just counterterrorist forces. You have to have something that is more comprehensive. You need all those elements, but we don’t want to do that.

“We” the American people?

The American military and State Department. The American government wants the Iraqis to do the fighting on the front lines. We want the Somalis and Somali surrogate forces to. So we are up to No. 4. But the key there is that you have to have a comprehensive approach, but we don’t want to be doing the frontline fighting, we don’t want to have to do the political reconciliation we brokered in Iraq, we don’t want to have to do the restoration of basic services, reëstablishment of local institutions, repair of infrastructure, et cetera. We want local forces and local governments to do that.

No. 5 is, the reason that we need those host-nation forces to do that fighting on the front lines is that we have to have a sustainable approach. And sustainability is measured in terms of the expenditure of our blood and treasure. And, if you can get that down sufficiently, you don’t see people demonstrating in the streets in the way we saw in the final five or more years of the Vietnam War. And that means determining how to help host-nation forces without having to put our troops on the front lines, except in extremis. But we can maintain a very considerable number of unblinking eyes around the world with Reapers [armed drones]. In any event, every unit has a drone nowadays, and they are all helpful, but the Reaper is the coin of the realm. You can never have enough of those.

You are putting forward the need for a sustained effort at every level—military, political, financial—

But very sustainable. We have drawn down in Afghanistan from a hundred and fifty thousand coalition forces that I was privileged to command at the height of the war to below twelve thousand. But let’s not forget who has been doing the vast majority of the fighting and dying on the battlefield in Afghanistan, which is why I found the comments about the Afghan forces not fighting disappointing. Anybody who served in Afghanistan knows a number of Afghans who died on the battlefield, which is something like twenty-seven times the number of U.S. losses. So to say that the Afghans won’t fight for their country needs an asterisk. And it should say the Afghans will fight for their country if they are confident someone has their back and will provide reinforcements of ammunition, food, medical supplies, will provide emergency medical evaluation, and, most important, will provide close air support to get them out of a tough fight. Keep in mind, again, that the Taliban could mass anywhere on what were some isolated outposts.

And I did voice concerns months ago. And I was told the operational tempo of the Afghan air force, and it was totally unsustainable. I am not sure we could have sustained the tempo at which they were flying. And they were getting shot up. There were a lot of heroic Afghan pilots and air crews. We were a really critical component of the Afghan Security Forces that just could not be replicated. And Afghanistan had so many disadvantages, no history of strong central government.

Do you think that political or military leaders are to blame for people feeling like this had gone on too long? The Afghanistan Papers showed that there were false promises of how things were going, and claims that the training of Afghan forces was going better than it was. Was that a problem, and is it part of the issue with getting Americans to accept such a long war?

All I can say is that I stand absolutely by everything that I stated publicly, and what I stated privately—by the way, most of which has been published in Hillary Clinton, Leon Panetta’s, and Barack Obama’s memoirs. I can’t go back and say whether General So-and-So was overly rosy here or whether President Obama, by changing the name of the operation, was, I don’t know, making more of something than was substantively well-founded.

Look, again, clearly there were tons of mistakes made along the way. Let’s focus on the most important one, which I happen to have said publicly, which was that we didn’t even get the inputs right in Afghanistan until late 2010. That’s not because I happened to be the commander. It was because of, first, the Bush Administration toward the end, and then the Obama Administration with the first additional tranche of troops from the policy review, and it took a good year or so to deploy those troops. We didn’t have the organizational architecture right. You have to get the right people, the preparation of the people and the units, the right equipment, certain communications gear, blimps with optics, towers with optics.

But of course we only had the inputs right for about seven months, because Obama announced the withdrawal date to begin the redeployment of those forces during the speech in which he announced the buildup. If [the former special representative Richard] Holbrooke is trying to negotiate from a position of strength, telling the enemy you are going to start withdrawing in July of 2011 probably is not providing him that position of strength. Obviously there are impatient leaders and rotations and all the rest of that, but this is really hard government work.

Now, there were enormous accomplishments. It is painful to say we didn’t accomplish anything. There are twenty years’ worth of Afghan girls and women who got to go to school. My wife and I funded a scholarship at the American University of Afghanistan, which, by the way, was attacked by the Taliban, with dozens of people killed. I remember talking to one of those women wounded, and she said, “General, I will die to get an education.” There are all these inspirational stories like that. So, again, they have twenty years of freedom of speech, freedom of the press, particularly in the big cities. It’s different out in the rural areas, to be sure. However imperfect the Afghan government was, however corrupt, whatever shortcomings we had, they will look back on it as a golden age. The economy in Kabul was bustling. We see them paint over the wedding-gown shops and the hair salons. I don’t equate that necessarily with, well, it is progress. They were allowed to do that, is the point. There were freedoms that will not now exist.

Now, we didn’t go there to give them those freedoms. It is where the 9/11 attacks were planned. To keep Al Qaeda from making it a sanctuary, and to gradually draw down, you had to develop security forces to whom you could transition tasks while keeping the capabilities that kept them in the fight in the tough times. You have to hand off to something. And keep in mind that, in the early years, we were the something. In northern Iraq, I was the sheikh of the strongest tribe in Iraq as a two-star general. And, under the Geneva Conventions, I was the executive, legislative, and judicial all in one, by international law. So how do you get yourself out of that? You do what we did in Iraq. We ran an election. Or, rather, a selection or caucus in Mosul. And all of a sudden we had Iraqis to help carry the rucksack of all these responsibilities.

So it’s easy to disparage, and, again, did we go overboard? I’m sure. But part of it was, you are constantly under the gun. I went to Iraq knowing that within a year I would have to begin drawing down. So you’ve gotta produce results. And that leads you to say, “O.K., let’s give it a shot. Let’s try this.” And perhaps with a longer time horizon, and I am not saying less resources necessarily, although what we have or had was sort of what Biden advocated [in 2009].

So more resources and more time?

Yeah. And time is actually the most important resource. In Afghanistan there was all this impatience that it was our longest war and all the rest of that, overlooking the fact that we have been in Korea, which still is technically—obviously people aren’t being shot and killed—but we have way more than thirty thousand troops there and in Japan.

If you knew that this would end after twenty years, do you think policymakers should have acted differently?

We needed to do what we did, by and large. Did we do more in many cases? Perhaps. Certainly the Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction.

We did too much, you are saying?

Overbuilt. This kind of stuff. Threw resources at problems. You have them now and you are not going to have them a year from now, if you see what I mean. There were even cases where we went too far with our troops. It took us too long to realize that we went too far with some of our troops. Some of these valleys, the people there didn’t like the Taliban, but they hated everybody. They didn’t want us in there or others in there. You had to learn how far you can go.

What would you do differently if you knew you had to come out in 2021? Boy, it is really hard to say. You would like to build an Afghan air force that is more substantial. But nothing is easy. You teach somebody how to teach English and be an air-traffic controller and you know what they do? Instead of working for the Afghan government, they go work as a translator for the United Nations because they get paid more. It is one challenge after another, and you have to work your way through it. You have to have enormous fortitude and determination. Somebody asked me if we lost the Afghan war. I said I don’t think we lost it. I think we withdrew from it. And I think there is a pretty big distinction there.

In “A Fish Called Wanda,” Kevin Kline says about Vietnam that “We didn’t lose. It was a tie.”

[Laughs.] This wasn’t a tie. Not when they take over within weeks of your departure.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 9

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 9 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————-

Len’s noticed that there have been more ghosts around recently.

Like, a lot more.

He’s not entirely sure what to do about it.

“Maybe it’s because you’re getting laid regularly,” Julie suggests.

“He was getting laid regularly before,” Nora objects.

“Maybe marriage noogie’s got some extra juicing powers.”

“As someone who was married,” Nora sniffs, “it most certainly does not.”

“Please stop,” Len says to them, pinching the bridge of his nose.

They fall quiet.

“That was sarcasm,” he adds.

“Have you considered that you’re becoming more powerful?” Nora asks.

Len makes a face at that. That does not sound appealing, thanks. “I still only have as much life as I have,” he points out.

“You’re getting older,” Julie says. “You should have, like, less life now, right? Since you’re using it up living it? But instead, it’s like you have…more.”

It has been easier to give extra life to the ghosts, come to think of it. Len hasn’t been so tired out by it recently, even though he’s giving more of it away because there are just so many friendlies around.

“I’m more worried about the fact that your mom said that people like you start to die around this age,” Mick says from where he's supposed to be napping in Len’s lap. They’re on their goddamn honeymoon. Mick needs to relax more.

Okay, okay, the honeymoon’s been going on a couple of months now, but whatever. They’re back in Central – the wedding ceremony was lovely, Lisa was the world’s most kick-ass flowergirl-slash-maid-of-honor-slash-best-man, the officiant rabbi was a Gotham transplant and had the amazing ability to ignore everything but what was going on right in front of him, and the justice of the peace even got over having a gun held to his head enough to clap by the end of it all – but they’d opted for a nice stay-low-at-home vacation for their honeymoon and damnit, Len doesn’t want to let go of the honeymoon mood just yet.

Even if Mick does seem intent on spoiling it.

“I’m fine,” Len says, even though he has noticed an increase in attacks from the unquiet dead recently. Everyone’s noticed the increase in attacks. That’s why they ended up deciding against going to Aruba or Iceland; Mick didn’t want to risk going somewhere where they didn’t have a good supply of friendly ghosts. “I’m not that old yet.”

“You said your family dies when they hit 50,” Mick says darkly.

“I’m only forty,” Len points out. “I’ve still got a few more years. Besides, forget the unquiet dead attacks! There are more friendlies now, and no one’s gotten through the wall yet.”

Even before they got over themselves and gotten back together, Mick was taking advantage of the increase in friendly ghosts, which seem to come in from all over nowadays, to set up a rotating defensive ‘wall’ to protect Len from the unquiet dead. Len would protest, but the ghosts are so happy to help him out. He barely has to do anything for them, though he tries whenever possible to still spread out some life to them where he can.

He is not a necromancer.

“Are we going to go back and take on the Flash again soon?” Mick asks, changing the subject when he senses the downward change in Len’s mood.

Mick’s always known the right thing to say to cheer Len up. “Yep,” Len says, mood lightening already. “We’ll lure him out and set up a big showdown in front of all the cameras, make a big show of it. They won’t be able to deny he exists – or that supervillains like us do – after that.”

“How do we get him to come to a pre-arranged time and place without screwing us in advance?” Mick asks, sounding a touch dubious.

“No idea,” Len says. “Try to steal something really fancy? Kidnap somebody?”

“Let’s call that Plan A and Plan B,” Mick says.

Plan A does not work, so Plan B it is.

They end up kidnapping one of the girls that helped ‘stop’ Len the time before, since apparently trying to steal high-end luxury cars and successfully stealing an intensely modernistic painting worth millions of dollars isn’t enough to catch the Flash’s interest these days.

Len’s not pouting about it, no matter what Mick says.

(Sure, he might've made a comment about certain superheroes getting snobby, but that's hardly pouting.)

“Sorry about this,” Len tells the young woman they kidnap, a doctor of some variety from what Len can tell. “I don’t think vacuum-boy has left his lab in something like a week, so you were my only option.”

“Your only – wait. Vacuum-boy?”

“Long black hair, kinda short, threatened me with a vacuum cleaner gussied up with some LED lights?”

“Uh, I mean, I guess – wait. You knew about that?”

“Well, yeah,” Len says with a shrug. “I have seen industrial strength vacuum cleaners before. Left because I didn’t see any need to finish off the Streak – wait, it’s the Flash now, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, blinking. “Uh. If you don’t see any need to attack the Flash, then...what are you doing now?”

“Establishing my supervillain bona fides,” Len tells her. “Obviously. No one has officially confirmed the superhero yet, which is a pain. Once we have a confirmed superhero, then we can be confirmed supervillains.”

“Just like in the comics,” Mick says gleefully.

“You’re both nuts,” the girl opines, but she’s stopped screaming and she looks a lot calmer now, which was what Len was going for. Slightly incredulous and disdainful, too, but whatever.

“It’s a matter of opinion,” Len says with a shrug. “Any place you’d prefer to be kept?”

“You’re asking me?”

“I really only need you for the video threatening the Flash and naming the place and time,” Len points out. “After that, you just need to sit tight till our fight is over, and you’re good to go. Would you like a nice spooky warehouse or are you more the comfortable coffee shop sort of kidnapee?”

“You’re very strange.”

“You have no idea,” Mick says with a smirk.

Len rolls his eyes at Mick. He’s actually quite proud of that, thanks.

They end up taking her to an unused apartment that Len knows. It’s mostly used by the Feds when they’re phonetapping the local Families, but they don’t have any ongoing stings right now. It’s nice, pleasant, but empty.

Well. Mostly empty.

“Julie, Deena, make sure she doesn’t leave or use the phone,” Len says, and holds out his hands. Each one grabs a hand and shivers into translucence – still invisible to Caitlin Snow, which turns out to be the doctor’s name, but enough power for a decent poltergeisting. They'll keep her inside the room, and if Len knows how to read people, and he does, the mystery of why she can't walk out the open door will be enough to keep Miss Snow from doing anything rash.

“Nora, Rakesh, Eli, you’re with me,” Len instructs, heading down to the car. “Mick, you take George and Betty.”

“I don’t need guards.”

“As back-up, Mick.”

“Isn’t Plan A for us to get captured so we’re confirmed as supervillains?”

“Well, yes. That's not the point. We want to be captured, yes, but we want to be captured in style - well, so long as we don’t end up having to waste the guy. Have some dignity, Mick.”

Mick smirks and pets his gun. “I think we’re probably going to waste the guy.”

“Probably,” Len confirms cheerfully. He’ll learn to deal with a superhero ghost if it makes Mick keep smiling.

Sure enough, the hero shows up to the stand-off and it’s all going well: they’re exchanging quips, fighting in the street – all the police hanging back along with the media to watch with big wide-open eyes as Len and Mick kick the kid’s ass – and then –

Well, that's when it goes wrong.

“Oh, my god,” Nora suddenly shrieks, seeing the kid stumble and rub at his face in what Len would not have taken to be a sufficiently characteristic way to enable someone to identify him under that mask but which apparently works for Nora. “Barry? Is that Barry? Len – you’ve got to stop – that’s Barry – that’s my son –”

“Well, shit,” Len says, and glances over at Mick. They can’t kill Nora’s baby boy, about whom they’ve heard so much over the years.

Guess they're going to have to go for being captured early.

Mick sighs, but nods. “Wanna ghostbusters it?” he suggests. They’ve already learned not to cross their guns’ streams, thanks to some incautious experimenting, but Mick’s not wrong, it would make for a splendid finale to their fight.

“I’ll take left, you take right,” Len says, and they split up, letting the Flash run between them.

The resulting explosion when their guns clash is very impressive.

Len’s very happy he had a few ghosts helping to cushion him when he gets thrown backwards, because otherwise, ouch. It’s totally worth the minimal loss of life it takes to power them up enough to help catch him. Explosions hurt.

“Guess you win this time, Flash,” he tells what had damn well better be Barry Allen under that cowl.

“There won’t be a next time,” the superhero says confidently. Incorrectly, as it happens, but it’s nice to see he has confidence.

They get hauled through the police station in the traditional handcuffed walk of shame. Len’s keeping an eye out on the crowd and sure enough, there he is, Barry Allen, CSI, just like Nora says.

About the right height and size to be the Flash, too.

“You’d better be right,” Len mutters under his breath.

“I’m sure,” Nora says. “Want me to get your guns back?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

It takes Lisa less than ten minutes to break them out of the prison transport with the help of several of Len’s ghosts. No sweat.

Of course, after that, Len can’t just leave it. Nora’s gotten all mopey about her baby boy putting himself in danger and her not able to help, Mick’s incredibly invested in the whole supervillain thing since it’s practically part of their marriage vows – something has to be done.

Some sort of agreement has to be reached, and Len knows just the way to do it. He has a plan.

That plan doesn’t stop him from kidnapping Cisco and his brother the next time he’s in town.

“I need a few improvements,” he says, plopping his gun down in front of Cisco. “And Lisa needs one of her own.”

“You tricked me,” Cisco says sulkily to Lisa.

“I meant it,” she says. “You are cute.”

“And she is a mechanical engineer,” Len says dryly, having heard the entire story from Betty. “Stop judging people by their looks, Cisco – it is Cisco, is it?”

“Yeah,” Cisco says. “And if you think I’m going to –”

“You are,” Len says. “You don’t want something to happen to your brother, do you?”

Once everything is put together, Len examines the new guns and the improvements he’d requested, all in pristine condition since he’d had a ghost alert him every time Cisco tried something squirrelly. The improvements should make the gun harder to track, even by its creator, and Len loves the fact that his ‘cold field’ idea seems to actually be plausible, even if Cisco isn’t entirely sure it obeys the laws of physics. “Good,” Len says. “Thanks for your contribution. Now it’s time for you two to go.”

Both young men gulp audibly.

“So, where would you like to be dropped off?” Len asks, mood lightening because of their visible terror. He’s not usually a ‘better to be feared’ sort of guy, but, hey, he is a supervillain now.

“Uh,” Cisco says, and then, after a few moments when Len doesn’t continue, asks, “Are you serious?”

“Entirely.”

“It’s not like a ‘drop off by the hospital or the morgue’ sort of thing, is it?”

“Not unless you really want to,” Len says. He hopes not; he refuses to go anywhere near the city morgue, for obvious reasons. He has enough ghosts. Besides, it’s not like Cisco didn’t give him everything he wanted. “How about ice cream?”

“What?”

He drops them off at Friedlander’s Ice Cream Parlor and buys them each a cone.

Social niceties and sheer shock keep them there long enough for Len to get away.

Sure enough, Len’s four blocks away before he’s passed by a familiar crackle of lightning. The Flash is no doubt looking for a man in a parka, not a man in a hoodie reading a magazine in the nearby park with a cute girl on his arm.

“Cute,” Len says, shaking his head at the passing superhero.

“Let’s go get that armored car,” Lisa says, lifting her head from Len’s shoulder, her eyes twinkling. “You promised you’d get me a nice necklace, Lenny.”

Len’s not exactly expecting to be kidnapped by an angry speedster mid-heist, but he’s not exactly surprised, either. Some people take a spot of kidnapping and ice cream so personally.

It doesn’t matter. Plan Ally-The-Flash is officially a go.

“You kidnapped Cisco,” the Flash snaps.

“Good to see you again, Flash,” Len drawls. “Or should I say – Barry Allen?”

The Flash frowns, shifting uneasily, then crosses his arms. “I don’t know what you’re –”

Len decides to have pity on him and nods. On his signal, Julie yanks back his cowl, sliding her ghostly hands all the way through the suit, up and down from toes to top, her ghostly interference disabling all the electronics that might serve to record or broadcast this conversation. She probably cops a feel, too, but Len's not going to hold that against her.

“Barry Allen,” Len says, smirking. “I knew it.”

Barry yelps and lifts his hands to his cowl. “You knew already,” he says accusingly, though he does sound somewhat bewildered by that fact. “But Cisco didn’t tell you; he says you didn’t even ask – how did you do that bit with the cowl? Something with Cisco’s improved guns?”

“You can’t blame Cisco for improving our guns,” Len says, ignoring the original question. “I put him in a tight spot.”

“Same kind I’ve got you in right now,” Barry replies, rallying.

“Can’t really stop me now that I know who you are,” Len points out.

“I could speed you to my own private prison where you’ll never see the light of day,” the kid replies cockily.

Len’s eyebrows go up. “Now, now,” he says, shaking his head. “That’s not at all the Barry Allen I’d been hearing so much about.”

“You mean Cisco? Because –”

“You know what I like about this part of the woods?” Len says musingly. “It’s dark, there’s a full moon out. Perfect haunting weather.”

“Haunting? What are you talking about?”

“Ghosts,” Len says.

“Ghosts,” Barry says skeptically. “You believe in ghosts?”

“Says the man who runs at Mach 3,” Len says.

“…point,” Barry concedes. “So, you mean, like possession and raising the dead and stuff?”

“No, not possession. That’s mediums; they’re weird. And raising the dead is necromancy, and I am not a necromancer.”

“Oo-kay,” Barry says. “Sure. No one was saying you were, Mr. super judgy about stuff that doesn’t exist. Besides, why are we even talking about ghosts, anyway?”

“It’s actually quite relevant to the situation, I think you’ll find.”

Barry arches his eyebrows scornfully, crossing his arms. “Right. How, exactly?”

“There’s a house in the suburbs,” Len says. “Very quiet, very nice, not far from where you live now. There was a ghost there. Lovely lady, thirty-something, very dead – one stab wound to the chest.”

Barry’s back stiffens. “So you figured out my name and can read the newspapers. Big whoop.”

“Your favorite book as a kid was the Runaway Dinosaur,” Len says. “You have no space to talk about who can and cannot read.”

“…how do you know that?”

“I told you, kid,” Len says. “Ghosts. Specifically, this one.”

He nods permission at Nora, who’s only been bouncing around waiting for her cue. She steps forward, solidifying.

Well, mostly solidifying; she’s not used to having mass. She’s still translucent and incorporeal. But she’s back on the visible spectrum.

“Mom?” Barry croaks.

“Oh, baby,” she says, holding out her arms to him. “My beautiful boy – look how you’ve grown! I’m so proud of you – so proud –”

“If this is some sort of trick –” Barry says, but his eyes are wide and glassy with tears.

“No trick, baby,” she says. “I’m sorry; I was the one who told Len it was you. I figured it out when you were fighting – I had to get him to stop shooting at you, and he wouldn’t listen if I didn’t tell him –”

“You…” Barry swallows. “You can’t be real. Some sort of holographic projection.”

“Len, could you go away for a minute?” Nora asks. “I want to talk to my son in private.”

Len sighs and walks over to a nearby tree. For good measure, he also closes his eyes, covers his ears, and starts loudly humming something. He’s pretty sure it’s “Mama Said There’d Be Days Like This”, but he can’t help his sense of humor.

He starts in surprise when a hand falls on his shoulder, hand dropping automatically to his gun.

“Sorry!” Barry yelps.

Len turns to face him.

The kid’s been crying. He’s one of those unfairly attractive criers, who gets a bit of a red face and tear tracks down his cheeks and maybe a little bit of swelling in the eyes, nothing like the snot-nosed bawling that Lisa used to do when she was a kid. “Um,” he says. “Mom says you can help her – if I wanted to hug her?”

Len refrains from rolling his eyes and pushes the life into her until she shimmers almost solid.

Barry falls into her arms with a choked-off sob.

“Don’t mention this to anybody,” Len says grouchily. “Either of you!”

“Thank you,” Barry says, still clutching at his mother. “Thank you.”

“I told you he’s not so bad,” Nora says, her own face similarly wet.

“I’ll have you know I’m very bad,” Len says. “Liar, thief, murderer, supervillain – probably going to go steal something right after we finish this little chat –”

“I can’t let you keep stealing whatever you want, whenever you feel like it,” Barry objects, pulling away just enough to twist to look at Len without actually letting go of Nora. “That needs to end.”

“Uh, yes, you can let me do it,” Len says. “You just don’t want to.”

“Couldn’t you just stop?”

“No. I’m a supervillain now. I like what I do. The adrenaline, the thrill of the chase – same reason you keep running after guys like me. I love this game, and I’m very good at it.”

“Go play it somewhere else, then!” Barry exclaims.

“I take my ghosts with me when I do,” Len says. Barry’s arms curl tighter around his mother’s waist. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Besides, this city is my home. I ain’t leaving it because you’ve got moral qualms about my chosen profession.”

“Can’t we find a compromise or something?” Barry asks. “I can’t just let you be.”

“I’m not expecting you to,” Len says patiently. “I’m going to keep stealing, you’re going to keep trying to stop me, the best man wins. You make me up my game. I like being a supervillain, but to be a supervillain, you need a good superhero.” He grins. “Like I said. Adrenaline.”

Barry can’t help but smile back. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “I guess I kind of see your point. But one thing – from here on out, no one else dies. If you’re as good as you say you are, you don’t have to kill anyone to get what you want.”

“That’s true,” Len says, and sighs. “Fine, agreed. I’ve mostly given up the killing anyhow, unless they’ve explicitly tried to kill me recently.”

“Really?”

“It just makes more ghosts,” Len says. “There’s been a disturbing increase in them lately.”

“…really?”

Len shrugs. It’s not really Barry’s problem. “So do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” Barry says. “You don’t kill anyone, I fight you – why do we have to fight?”

“Fun.”

“…having a nemesis who doesn’t kill people would be kind of cool,” Barry concedes. "Not going to lie about that."

“I know, right?” Mick says, stepping out from the trees with a bit of a scowl. It took him a while to find them; Lisa must have insisted on cracking the armored car first. “Just like in the comics.”

“Yeah, just like – holy crap, I’m a living comic book.”

“Are you just realizing that?” Len asks. "Now?"

“It’s not the superhero stuff,” Barry says. “It’s more – I’ve been having this problem – there’s this girl, and I’ve been – wow. I’m an asshole.”

Len arches an eyebrow.

“I’ve maybe kinda been treating her like she’s my love interest instead of a person,” Barry says, wincing.

“Barry,” Nora says disapprovingly.

“I’ll be better now!”

“Good.”

“God, Mom,” he says, turning to pull her in close again. “I just – I’ve missed you so much. Mom. Oh, mom…”

“My beautiful boy,” she says, embracing him in return and kissing his cheek. “My beautiful, beautiful boy…”

Barry sniffs. “Can – will you let me see her again?” he asks Len.

“I was planning on sending her along with you as a good faith gesture on my part of the deal,” Len says dryly. “But if you’d prefer to settle for just a no-killing pact…”

“Wait, what? You are?”

Len shrugs. “She’s been moping a lot recently,” he says, understating the situation. She'd fallen into a depression about eight months into the coma and refused to leave his house for weeks and weeks. “I’ve given her enough juice that she should be able to stick around for a while, as long as she stays invisible – you’ll be able to hear her, talk to her, but seeing her…well, you can probably see her in mirrors and stuff. Ghosts can do that easier for some reason. But not all the time like now, or she'll run out.”

“That’s fine,” Barry says. He’s crying again, little sobs and heaving breaths as he tries to keep control. “That's totally fine. She can stay invisible. I don't mind. Thank you. I can’t even begin - I - just – thank you.”

“Just remember you owe me one,” Len says flippantly.

“I owe you a lot more than that,” Barry says, sounding entirely sincere.

Len hates sincerity. It makes him uncomfortable. He looks around. “Don’t suppose you can give me a ride back to the city?” he asks.

“Oh! Yeah. Sure. Uh, I can only take one of you at a time, though,” he says, glancing at Mick.

“S’fine,” Mick says tolerantly. “I’ll float along.”

“Float – wait, you’re a ghost, too?”

Mick smirks.

“But you’re so solid!”

“Lenny would’ve have trouble marrying me if I wasn’t,” Mick says.

Barry’s nodding, and then – “Wait. Before or after?”

Mick laughs.

[junker-town]

The Seahawks should be scared of Za’Darius Smith

Za’Darius Smith totaled a career-high 13.5 sacks in his first season with the Packers.

Za’Darius Smith has been exactly who the Packers hoped he’d be. Now the playoffs are his time to shine.

Za’Darius Smith is a goon. I mean that in the best way possible. He wants all of the smoke, all of the time.

I watched his film from a few Packers games this season, and Smith was just beating people up over and over, play after play, game after game, and the best part was I could tell he enjoyed every second of it. Just the violence that he plays with on damn near every down is so impressive, and it’s a part of his game that really endeared him to me. It didn’t matter who he’s going against, or how much bigger they were, he took the fight to them with reckless abandon.

He has that Marshawn Lynch mindset on the field of running through a muthafucka’s face repeatedly until they don’t want it no more.

And know this: while he might be correctly described as an edge rusher, anybody on the offensive line can get it. If they see Smith lined up across from them, they better hope their chin strap is snapped on tight because the one thing I didn’t see from Smith all year was fear. In addition to playing with an attitude, Smith’s relentlessness and hustle have definitely made me a fan.

I actually kept putting off writing about Smith during the regular season because I just figured I would get around to it, but I never did. However, since I missed my chance during the regular season, I had to take this opportunity before the Divisional Round to put a spotlight on the season he’s had since his play is a big part of why the Packers had a first-round bye with the second seed in the NFC.

It helps that I think his play will be one the keys to the Packers winning against the Seahawks on Sunday.

Smith showed all season he’s not just a go-hard, effort guy, but a highly skilled one too

While he isn’t the biggest guy at 6’4 and 272 pounds, Smith is a very powerful dude coming off the football. He’s one of the better bull rushers I’ve seen all year. Mind you, he’s had success with his power rushes while lining up both on the edge and on the interior.

What I really like about Smith is that he plays with an edge — and I don’t mean dirty by any means. He plays the game the way it’s supposed to be played. But when he is taking on a block or taking somebody to the ground, he ain’t nice about it. He has the kind of on-field demeanor that most defenses need from at least one of their leaders. A player who just gives off that take-no-shit aura as soon as he walks into any stadium.

As a former player, I can tell you that if you play with a guy like Smith and you watch him go out on the field every week and play like a madman, it makes you want to go out there and play that way as well. It’s easy to get teammates to follow someone like that.

The truth is I don’t think I’ve ever seen an edge rusher who was more efficient with their movement than Smith was this season. And by that I mean he almost always moves in straight lines — on film it appears his preference is to run right through blockers to get to the person with the ball.

Whether he was playing the run, or rushing the passer, Smith was all about taking the most direct path to get to the guy with the ball the season.

Smith also has a knack for knowing exactly when to escape off a block. You see a lot of guys come off the ball well initially, but end up getting stuck because they stay locked up with the blocker just a tick too long.

But with Smith, he just has a feel for when the offensive lineman is going to try to sit down on his pass rush move or, when the right time is to come off and make the tackle. He immediately steps wide of the block and uses a power rip or a quick arm-over to free himself of the blocker and take the guy with the ball down to the ground.

What makes it even harder for blockers to saying engaged with Smith is that he’s adept at knocking off the blocker’s arm that happens to be in the direction which he wants to escape off the block.

But remember, Smith doesn’t always have to run through guys. His lateral quickness is absolutely ridiculous too!

Where his technique is stellar is that Smith also gets back vertical in a hurry after his lateral movement. I rarely saw him get washed inside or outside when he was moving laterally at the line of scrimmage. Instead, most of the time he was still able to explode upfield and disrupt the play even when he didn’t get into the gap cleanly.

It is that economy of motion that helps Smith make so many plays in the backfield against the run and the pass.

But let me be clear: it’s not that Smith gets a clean win every time he rushes the passer that makes him dangerous. Really, a lot of times his first move gets stopped by the offensive lineman. What forces offenses to know where he is at all times, however, is the fact that when you block the first move, he’s going to go to a second. When you block the second move, he’s going to go to a third.

And a fourth.

And a fifth.

He’s going to keep working until the play ends one way or another, and those blockers had better be ready to keep working right with him. If they falter, even for a second, he will make them pay for it.

Why Smith will make life hard for Russell Wilson and the Seahawks’ OL

One of the things that is interesting about Smith’s film is that the Packers used him a lot like the Texans deployed Jadeveon Clowney over the years. You might see him standing up as the edge rusher on one play, but the next he might be at linebacker depth threatening to blitz one of the A gaps. On third-and-long, there is a very good chance you will see him with his hand in the dirt as a three-technique on the outside edge.

This guy can do it all, and do it all well. Fortunately, the Packers recognized just how special he is and decided to move him around like a chess piece. I think that has really helped unleash all of Smith’s potential and that, in turn, has helped the Packers win a bunch of games this season.

If you compare their combine numbers, there’s no question that Smith isn’t in the same class as Clowney when it comes to measurable athleticism. However, when you watch their film, Smith is at least as disruptive, if not more so, because his technique is just light years ahead of Clowney’s. If Clowney had the same level of technique as Smith, the NFL probably would’ve outlawed him by now.

And while I know Smith ran a 4.83 when he was coming out back in 2015, there is no doubt that he plays a lot faster than that. His film says he is a helluva athlete, period, and I always defer to film when it comes to players. You can put Smith’s most physically impressive plays this season up against anybody’s.

The way I see it, the method with which Smith rushes the passer is tailor-made to face a mobile quarterback like Russell Wilson. Smith can restrict the pocket with his power rushes, which will help keep Wilson from having a lane to step up inside the pocket to avoid the rush, while keeping his outside arm free to escape off the block whenever Wilson tries to take off outside to scramble.

And, l’m telling you, Smith has an extra gear when he’s chasing quarterbacks. I’m not saying Russ will never break containment to his side, but what I am saying don’t be surprised if it’s a lot harder for Russ than you might expect.

Combine that with the fact that the Seahawks’ offensive line is still banged up and you have a perfect recipe for Smith to have a big game this weekend. With left tackle Duane Brown just a couple of weeks removed from surgery, it is still up in the air whether he will play. If I were a betting man, I’d put down a dollar on Brown’s backup, George Fant, either starting the game or at least rotating in some with Brown this week — and that is definitely a matchup I believe Smith can exploit.

At the same time, with as inconsistent as Seahawks right tackle Germain Ifedi has been as a pass blocker, and with the way Fletcher Cox got after D.J. Fluker last Sunday, I also expect Smith to share his can of whupass with most of the rest of the Seattle offensive line.

Don’t worry, he has plenty to go around.

Also, don’t forget that Fant had back spasms during a game a few weeks. If Jamarco Jones has to slide over to left tackle at any point in Green Bay, just do yourself a favor and avert your eyes. Jones had to start at there against the Cardinals, and it got ugly fast.

Whether he ends up with a lot of sacks or tackles for a loss or not, I expect Smith to be playing in Seattle’s backfield a lot Sunday evening. That bye should’ve given him fresh legs and after the Seahawks’ hard-fought win over the Eagles on the road last week, I just don’t think their offensive line will be up to the task of blocking Smith.

This matchup Sunday is exactly the kind of game the Packers signed Smith for in the first place. The Packers invested a four-year contract with a maximum value of $66 million with the expectation that he would step up in just such a situation as this. Green Bay saw the potential Smith showed his first four seasons in Baltimore, including the 8.5 sacks in only eight starts last year, and came to the conclusion that he could be much more.

They were right.

Even with a leg injury that slowed him down early on in the season, Smith was able to post career bests in sacks (13.5), tackles (55), tackles for a loss (17), and quarterback hits (37). But, just being real, all of that will be for naught if he doesn’t bring it this weekend. The Packers were expected to make the playoffs with Aaron Rodgers healthy, but with the upgrades on defense they also expected to go deep into the playoffs. It’s now time for Smith to stand up and really earn his money.

I, for one, think he will.

And while he will have help from Preston Smith on the other side and the rest of the Green Bay defense backing him up, make no mistake: this is Za’Darius Smith’s time to shine.

As much confidence as I had last week that Clowney and Ziggy Ansah would go off against the Eagles, I’m equally as confident that Smith, coming off a bye, is going to be hunting and harassing Wilson all game long on Sunday. It’s gonna be a lot harder for Wilson to hit those deep balls with Smith breathing down his neck.

Don’t believe me? Just watch.

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part five

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

(y/n) walks inside the huge double doors of Hogwarts when she gets hit in the face by a balloon. It explodes and leaves her soaking wet.

"Oh fuck you Peeves."

Peeves shrieks in delight seeing Millicent’s smooth newly straightened hair frizz back up to her usual red curls.

(y/n), Millicent and Daphne walk inside the bright Great Hall.

You eye your usual spot where Draco is sitting with his henchmen and you drag your friends away. They shoot you confused looks because you always sit in the exact center of the Slytherin table but you smile reassuringly.

"I want to be near the front today. So Daphne can have a front row seat to her sister's sorting ceremony."

Daphnee looks charmed by your thoughtfulness.

Thank god I was born a good liar.

The hat sings another ridiculous song. The first years line through the great hall and Professor Mcgonagall begins shouting names out. You start cracking your knuckles waiting for someone else to be sorted into Slytherin so your house can cheer loudly,

"Greengrass, Astoria"

"SLYTHERIN"

What seems like the entirety of the Slytherin house jumps up and cheers for the little brunette girl.

A proud looking Astoria Green takes the hat off and hurries to the Slytherin table, where everyone was applauding her. Harry caught a glance of (y/n) cheering Astoria on. For a fleeting second, Harry had a strange desire to join the Slytherin table too.

During the whole dinner, (y/n) could feel Draco's eyes burning into the back of her head. She focused hard on not looking to her right and meeting his eyes. But during  dessert, while searching for the treacle tart, you meet his eyes. He looks strangely hurt?

As soon as Dumbledore starts his usual speech you zone out and start thinking about the hundreds of things on your mind and worrying about your father's business.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"WHAT! Did he just... That's ridiculous... He can't possibly... Tell me he didn't just say... no quidditch?" You're at a loss for words.

Even if (y/n) didn't play Quidditch herself she was the Slytherin team's number one fan. She was there at any game, didn't matter the weather, and she screamed her lungs out cheering. The team even gave her an honorary member's Quidditch robe for Christmas. It was one of her most cherished possession.

For the first time this evening, you willingly look at Draco. You know that as the Slytherin Seeker Draco would be flipping tables. His cool gray eyes meet yours. He looks utterly unphased. You cock your head to the side, silently asking him What the fuck is going on?.

Just wait. He mouths back. (y/n) rolls her eyes at him, obviously annoyed and turns away.

A battered looking man bursts through the doors. His glass eye jerking around then fixes on (y/n). A shudder goes down her spine.

What a creepy little man.

"May I introduce the New Defense against The Dark Arts teacher" Professor Dumbledore bellows. "Professor Moody!"

Jesus fucking Christ.

"As I was saying" Dumbledore continues " we have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my greatest pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"YOU'RE JOKING!" says Fred loudly.

You were too busy trying to remember a conversation you overheard at the Burrow about Professor Moody to process all the excitement around you.

As students start to file out of the Great Hall, you feel someone tug at your robes.

"Do you know there's house elves at Hogwarts?" Hermione presses.

" Um yeah, never been to the kitchens?"

"No. And it wasn't mentioned in Hogwarts: A History." She purses her lips and continues.

"Do you have house elves (y/n)."

"We had a couple elves when I was little but then one of my dad's muggle business partners accidentally spotted one and the ministry had to erase his memory. Quite a funny little accident actually. So then my dad freed the elves and got muggle staff. Why?"

"Oh (y/n)! We have to do something about the house elves. It's basically slave labour. I was thinking about starting an organisa-"

She gets cut off by Fred and George.

" That's bloody bullshit! They can't do that!" George bursts. " We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot!"

"They're not stopping me entering." says Fred stubbornly. " The Champion'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be able to do normally. And a hundred thousand Galleons."

"Yeah" says Ron wistfully "Yeah, a hundred thousand Galleons."

"God, Ron don't tell me you were actually thinking of entering. You wouldn't last a second" You tease.

"I'd last longer than you." He says poking his tongue out.

"Don't know about that" Harry joins.

"(Y/N) C'MON YOU'RE TAKING FOREVER." Daphne hollers from across the hall.

Ron turns a little pink when he hears her voice. Even though he would never admit it, you know he had a slight crush on Daphne.

You wave the Gryffindors goodbye and go meet your other friends.

"Death toll, huh?" Millicent says.

"Who do you think is gonna enter?" Daphne quips.

"I know Nick is gonna want to enter." Rolling your eyes at Millicent, who's blushes furiously whenever you mention your brother. " And probably some of his friends."

"You think Jeremy Barlett will enter? You shattered his nose less than a day ago!"

"Who knows" You laugh.

"(y/n)!"

You turn at the sound of that voice.

"Don't forget our date Saturday" Cedric shouts from the other end of the hallway. A group of Ravenclaw girls glare at you. You blush furiously as you walk towards him.

"A date, huh?" You smirk "Sorry Diggory I have no clue what you're talking about

He laughs. A beautiful melodic laugh. "Saturday, nine thirty, Great Hall."

"Only if you bring chocolate frogs" You cross your arms. He shakes his head and chuckles.

"Done."

You see Nick and his friends round the corner of the hallway, they join Cedric’s side.

"Oi Ced! Is my little sister annoying you?" Nick chuckles.

Yay! The arrogant asshole's here.

"Oh fuck off Nick" You say hitting him with the back of your hand.

"Feisty" Says Xavier, his Ravenclaw friend.

"Now now (y/n), that's no way to speak to your brother, the future Triwizard champion." Nick boasts.

You stifle a sarcastic laugh.

"Nick, you're not seriously thinking about entering" (y/n) wheezes "even Jeremy, with his broken nose, has a better chance of winning than you."

Nick shoots you the dirtiest look. Eager to change the subject he says

"Any of you guys entering?"

"Maybe"

"Sure thing"

"Absolutely"

"Of course"

(y/n) is taken aback by Cedric's answer. She turns to him.

"You're entering?"

Cedric looks down at the pretty little face looking up at him."You're entering?" She asks, a worried grimace flashes across her face."Yeah why ? Don't think I can do it?" He would never admit it but her opinion mattered to him, a lot. "No um I mean you're really talented but are you sure you should. It's.. it’s really dangerous."

Cedric doesn't miss the slight blush that sweeps across her cheeks as she says this.

Before he could answer, Professor McGonagall stomps in.

"Everyone to your common rooms now!"

"We'll talk Saturday, okay?"

She smiles his favourite slight smile. "See you later Diggory."

"Goodnight (y/n)." Cedric smiles the whole way back to the Hufflepuff common room.

"Let me get this straight" Daphne says walking inside the Slytherin common rooms. "Cedric freaking Diggory asked you on a date! And you didn't bother mentioning it to us! For God sakes (y/n)!"

"More importantly what are you gonna wear?" Millicent asks as the three of you sit down on one of the leather couches.

"Hadn't really thought about that." You admit to her. She huffs and playfully rolls her eyes.

"Don't worry we'll find you the perfect date outfit." Daphne reassures you.

"Date?" A low posh voice curiously chuckles. On the couch facing you are the rest of your Slytherin friends. Draco, Theodore and Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were there as well but due to their lack of personality, they were more like furniture.

"Yes, Draco. A date. Is that so surprising?"

" With who? Your new friend Potter?" He sneers, obviously jealous of how much time you've been spending with Harry.

"Cedric Diggory." The look on Draco's face was absolutely priceless.

He scoffs. "A Hufflepuff? You could do better"

"I would never be caught dead on a date with a Puff" Pansy says, eager to join the conversation.

"Trust me Pansy, you're not gonna be caught dead on a date with anyone." You answer back.

The boys try to muffle their laughter while the girls spread out leaving no room for her to sit. She sits on the arm rest anyways. The subject of the conversation quickly changes.

"Did you see his glass eye?" Blaise asks you.

"How could she miss it" Millicent laughs " He was staring at her the entire time." Draco seems to stiffen at those words.

"While I was at the Burrow this summer, I overheard Mr.Weasley and Mr.Diggory talking about him and they said he's basically insane."

Draco chokes on his drink.

"YOU SPENT YOUR SUMMER WITH THE WEASELS!?"

"Got a problem with that, Draco?" You ask, arching your brows at him.

"Is it true they sleep in carton boxes, on the ground?" Pansy snickers looking extra proud of her oh-so-witty remark.

"Pansy, I hope you fall down the stairs and break your neck." You say in your sweetest voice.

She finally goes up to her dormitory, defeated.

"Alright goodnight boys. We're going up." You say.

Draco looks like he's about to say something else but you shoot him a I don't wanna hear it glance and walk up the stairs.

At the opposite end of the castle, Harry, Ron, and Neville got into their pajamas and into bed. Someone — a house-elf, no doubt — had placed warming pans between the sheets. It was extremely comfortable, lying there in bed and listening to the storm raging outside.

"I might go in for it, you know," Ron said sleepily through the darkness, "if Fred and George find out how to . . . the tournament . . . you never know, do you?"

"S'pose not. . . ."

Harry rolled over in bed, a series of dazzling new pictures forming in his mind's eye. . . . He had hoodwinked the impartial judge into believing he was seventeen . . . he had become Hogwarts champion . . . he was standing on the grounds, his arms raised in triumph in front of the whole school, all of whom were applauding and screaming . . . he had just won the Triwizard Tournament. . . . (y/n)'s face stood out particularly clearly in the blurred crowd, her face glowing with admiration. . . .

Harry grinned into his pillow, exceptionally glad that Ron couldn't see what he could

[thejokervaleska]

stitches, part 3

Pairing: The Joker (Ledger) x Reader Rating: T Words: 1880 Summary: It was only in rare, unsettling moments like this one that I remembered he was a total stranger living in my home.

PART ONE / PART TWO

Jack had been staying with me for a few days when I decided it was time for me to get back to work. I had some reservations about leaving him alone for five or six hours but I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t afford to miss a prime Saturday night shift, especially after spending so much money on my new guest.

Some of that money went towards a few pairs of clothes, some socks, a pair of shoes, and a decent winter jacket. He didn’t ask me for any of it but I couldn’t just let him sit around shivering in a thin t-shirt and blood-stained jeans. Most of the money, however, went towards food and cigarettes, both of which he consumed voraciously.

For someone who could barely move his mouth, it was shocking how much he ate. Earlier that day, I had to make an emergency trip to the store for more pudding and now I was running late. There wasn’t even enough time to do my hair.

Sighing, I bent over in front of the mirror in my bedroom and started scraping my hair into a high ponytail. It wasn’t my best look but it would have to do. Maybe if I swung it around enough, I could make it work for me.

Pulling it tight, I straightened up, flipped my hair back over my shoulder, and checked my reflection, only to see Jack leaning against the doorframe behind me.

I’d learned quickly that he moved silently and had a proclivity for skulking around, waiting to be noticed. He seemed to like scaring me.

“What have I told you about the lurking, Jack?” I asked, frowning at him in the mirror. “It’s creepy.”

He ignored me and looked around my room, taking it all in as I shoved a few things into my bag. When our eyes met again, he lifted his brows. “Leaving?”

“Yeah, I have to work tonight. Are you going to be okay here by yourself?”

That earned me a roll of his eyes and a clipped, “Fine.”

“Okay, well please don’t destroy anything while I’m gone. I’ll leave you the number for the club so you can reach me in case there’s some kind of emergency-” I stopped, realizing what I was saying. “Oh god, I’m talking to you like I’m your mother or something.”

He scoffed at that and, not for the first time, I wondered how different our interactions would be if he could manage more than a few words at a time. I found myself looking forward to the day when we could have a normal conversation.

As I turned around, I saw him gazing at the six-inch heels sitting on my bed. “Stripper?”

“Yeah,” I snapped. That question always came with so much baggage, so many judgments and expectations, that it immediately put me on the defensive. “What’s it to you?”

He just shrugged but I felt his eyes on me as I moved around the room, gathering up the rest of my stuff and shoving those terrible shoes into my bag. It was probably just me being paranoid but I felt like he was already looking at me differently.

Without turning to look at him, I told him, “I swear to god, if you even think about asking me for a free lap dance, I will make you suffer more than you already have.”

I heard him huff out a little laugh through his nose and when I looked up again, he was already gone.

It was a rough night at The Dollhouse, as most were. Within ten minutes of stepping out on the floor, some old creep had spilled his watered-down beer all over me. A couple of hours later, I had to call security on a group of frat boys who couldn’t keep their clammy hands to themselves. And to top it all off, Willie, the manager, had called me into his office before I left and asked me about working a private bachelor party for a friend of his.

Everyone knew the club was owned by Willie’s uncle, Salvatore Luciano, head of the Luciano crime family. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the party would be full of mobsters so I was hesitant about the idea but Willie was insistent. Besides, the pay for just a couple of hour’s work was too good to pass up.

I was still lost in thought, wondering if I’d made the right choice, when I opened my door to find my apartment dark and silent.

Frowning, I turned on the lamp in the living room and looked over to see that the couch was empty. The coffee table was littered with the crumpled plastic corpses of empty pudding cups but Jack was nowhere to be seen.

Moving into the kitchen, I saw he wasn’t in there either but my stomach dropped when I saw drops of blood scattered on the floor and smeared on my counter. I spun around to go check the bathroom only to run right into Jack, standing there in the kitchen doorway, holding a towel to the right side of his face and looking miserable.

“What happened?” I asked, clutching my hand over my heart as if that might be enough to slow the galloping in my chest. “Are you okay?”

His dark, unblinking eyes looked right through me. From what I’d learned so far of his temperament, I got the impression that he knew he needed my help but was loathe to ask for it.

“Jack, look at me,” I said gently, waiting for his eyes to focus on mine. “Can you move the towel?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he complied. Underneath, I could see the skin around his mouth was stained with blood but the room was too dark for me to see anything more. Leaning past him, I flipped on the overhead light and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden brightness.

“Can you just lean down a little?” I asked.

He hunched forward rather reluctantly, lowering his head towards me so I could get a better look. The angle wasn’t quite right though, and I reached up to lay my hand against his cheek, but the moment my fingertips touched his skin, he jumped and flinched away.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “I just need you to tilt your head a little-”

I froze when he huffed out a loud breath through his nose. His shoulders shifted like he was trying to shrug something off and I drew my hand back, uncertain of what I’d done wrong. It was the first time I’d touched him since that night but I wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction. Maybe I’d just caught him off guard? It was hard to tell with Jack.

It was only in rare, unsettling moments like this one that I remembered he was a total stranger living in my home. It was surprisingly easy to forget that; it seemed the trauma of that first night had brought us close together in a very short period of time. It forced us to skip the whole “getting to know each other” phase and move right into being roommates. The last few days spent watching cartoons together had lulled me into a false sense of security but this was just a reminder that I didn’t really know him at all.

After a moment, he went still and tilted his face towards the light for me.

Sucking in a deep breath, I leaned closer to see that a few of the stitches closing the right corner of his mouth had popped and the skin had split open again. I winced as I saw him prodding at the area with his tongue. He was staring down at me now, I noticed, and studying me as I studied him. Suddenly I was aware that my breathing sounded too loud in the small, silent kitchen. He seemed to have that effect on me; his unnatural stillness made me too aware of myself.

“Stop doing that with your tongue, you’re just gonna make it worse,” I muttered, motioning for him to cover it with the towel again. “How did this happen?”

He didn’t reply. Sighing, I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his bony wrist before I could think twice about it. His eyes immediately darted down to my hand and then up to my face but he didn’t pull away. I considered that a victory.

“Come on, let’s go see if George is around,” I said, tugging him along behind me.

Half an hour later, the stitches were repaired and I was in the shower, washing away the remains of a terrible night.

George hadn’t seemed surprised to see us and now that the circumstances were a little less dire, he and Jack eyed each other with open suspicion. It was clear that those two were never going to be friends.

As he was patching Jack up, George had warned him bluntly that messing up the stitches and opening the wound again would only make the scarring worse. I was concerned but Jack just shrugged it off, like he couldn’t care less if his face was a wreck.

When I emerged from the shower, I found Jack in the kitchen, wiping the last smears of his blood off the counter with a wet paper towel.

Leaning in the doorway, I smiled to myself as I watched him. I thought maybe I’d give him a taste of his own medicine by staying silent until he noticed my presence but he glanced over at me immediately and didn’t seem at all surprised.

“Thanks for cleaning that up,” I told him, hoping he would respond to positive reinforcement like a dog. He shot me a look that said “don’t patronize me” as clearly as if he’d spoke the words aloud and I had to laugh. “Sorry, but I really do appreciate you making an effort.”

“It’s my blood,” he muttered, shrugging a shoulder, before skirting past me and wandering into the living room.

I followed him, brows furrowed. He still seemed a little on edge but I wasn’t sure if it was because of me or because of his interaction with George.

Watching as he started to sit down on the couch but thought better of it and wandered over to the window, I asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he replied shortly.

Clearly it wasn’t fine. “Did I do something wrong?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his shoulders sagging as he turned to face me. “No. It’s fine.”

“Okay,” I told him uncertainly, watching as he fumbled for his pack of cigarettes and his lighter. “Well, if you don’t need anything, I’m gonna go to bed…”

He waved me off impatiently, stopping to light up before he turned to look out the window again. I couldn’t help but wonder why he was so jumpy, why he was practically vibrating with nervous energy. It reminded me of a caged animal. Maybe captivity just doesn’t agree with him, I thought.

Thoroughly confused and a little worried, I left him pacing in the living room. Once in my bedroom, I was careful to lock my door.

That was the first night I dreamed about him.

(Tagging: @kittylivesyou, @killer-khaleesi, @nicolesyneah25, @maiidesuu)

[silentwaters4]

For anon...enjoy! (Also, we’re going to ignore the timeline discrepancy)

Fred nudged George with a devious smirk. The twins shared a look before turning their attention to you. You were sitting at the same table studying something. Obsessing is was it more closely resembled. You were currently scribbling, not on parchment, but on a bound journal. You were hunched over it, rapidly writing, only stopping to sketch something. Fred leaned closer to George.

“Don’t s’pose that’s a diary?” George’s eyes glinted. “Wonder what could be in there.”

The twins shared a mischievous glance before slowly lowering their head. They watched as a friend of yours startled you. The twins held in chuckles as you hastily closed the bound book. Your friend continued to whisper to you. A moment later, you were grabbing your things and standing. Another friend caught your attention just as you went to grab the journal. Fred slowly pulled out his wand.

“Accio,” he murmured.

The book started to shuffle toward him. Suddenly, it stopped. The twins glanced up to be met with your arched brow. Unimpressed, you snatched your journal and left with your friend.

“You’re not getting any sneakier,” you called back to them.

You crept slowly around the corner of one of the corridors. It was the middle of the night, hence your cautious nature. Even more alarming, you were on the trail of a demon. That was one reason you enjoyed having magic as a hunter; the demon wouldn’t be able to tell you were following it until you were close enough.

You ‘noxed’ your wand light as you heard footsteps. You ducked in between two very close walls and sucked in a breath. Not too long after you had done so, you heard quiet voices.

“So...all of this is real?” a gruff voice queried.

There was an audible sigh but no response. You stayed in your spot as your eyes continued to adjust to the dark. The footsteps stopped suddenly. You imagined one of the figures straighten.

“There’s someone else here,” a second voice stated.

You swallowed, gripping your wand. You were suddenly thankful no paintings hung in this corridor. Smart demon. The footsteps drew closer. Setting your jaw, you looked forward, ready to jump out. 

Before you could, however, you realized you were no longer in your little hiding spot. Somehow, you had ended up in a small room with three men. Momentarily stunned, you looked on in confusion. Snapping to your senses, you fell into a defensive stance, wand raised high. One of the men smirked and arched a brow.

“Really? Your best weapon is a stick?” “Dean-” “Flipendo!”

The man, who was known as Dean, was flung across the room and into a book case. The tallest man’s jaw dropped before he pulled out a knife.

“Sam-” “Expelliarmus,” you countered.

The knife fell to the floor. The third man, whose name you hadn’t learned, sighed in exasperation. You flitted your wand from pointing at each of the men.

You stared with wide eyes at Castiel, the third man who happened to also be an angel. Sam and Dean were sitting on a couch in front of the fire. Dean was rubbing the back of his head still.

“You’re...an angel?” you asked, “I didn’t think they were real.” Sam nodded. “Yeah. Crazy, right? A lot of the monsters are real.” “And we hunt them,” Dean added, “Which is what we were doing before you ignored your curfew and almost got yourself killed.” You arched a brow. “If you think I’m going to let a demon run around my school, I hit you harder than I thought.”

All three of their eyes had widened at the mention of demons. You looked between them, confusion beginning to appear.

“What? You guys know about angels, vampires, and covens, but not demons?” “Actually,” Sam started, “We do. We’re just confused that you know.”

Your mouth formed a silent ‘oh’ as you lowered your gaze. You rubbed the back of you neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of a hunter too. I just stick to the magical world and demons,” you explained, “Which is what I was following until you three showed up.” Castiel knit his brows. “Following? Demons don’t leave a visible trail.” You smirked. “Magic is a wonderful tool,” you paused to pull your bag off your back, pulling out your bound journal, “I’ve found some helpful spells that cast out demons.” “Spells that send those bitches to hell?” Dean asked, impressed. “Mostly. Some of them only pull the demon from the person. You usually have to follow those spells up with banishment ones so they can’t return to the place. Sending them straight to hell is high level magic...I haven’t been able to pull it off yet.” “But these spells work?” Sam persisted. “For witches and wizards.” You giggled briefly. “I don’t think Muggles would be particularly apt at casting spells like these.”

Sam smiled, chuckling as well. Neither of you saw Dean smirk at the two of you. He forced himself to become serious.

“You think you could help us track it?” You beamed at the trio.

Your grin fell from your lips as you saw two familiar redheads. You outwardly groaned. Dean shot you a look before seeing Sam mirror your expression. A moment later, Castiel was standing in front of you with the Weasley twins.

“If you’d like, I could erase their memories,” he suggested. “No,” you quickly interjected before sighing, “I can take care of it. Can you make sure Anna is returned to her dormitory safely?” Castiel nodded.

After mentally telling the twins to stay put, you walked over to the Winchesters. Dean held your classmate in his arms. She had been so spent from the demon, she couldn’t stay awake. Sam was smirking slightly. You returned the expression.

“After taking care of her, I suggest you three leave as quickly as possible,” you paused, “I don’t think the professors would enjoy two muggles and an angel being on the premises.” Dean nodded. “Probably best.” You rocked on your heels. “Thank you for your help.” “Don’t thank us,” Sam retorted, Dean shaking his head in agreement, “You wizarded that demon back to hell.” You giggled. “Wizarded?” You smiled at the men. “Regardless, we worked well and now Hogwarts is safe. For that, I am incredibly grateful.” “Thank you,” Castiel replied.

Dean smirked, arching a brow at Cas. He wasn’t one to usually voice his thanks. He shrugged. You walked over to your classmate and placed the tip of your wand on her temple.

“Obliviate,” you nearly cooed. “What’d that one do?” Sam asked. “Take away her memories of the demon,” you replied, “Now, she only has her own memories.”

After a moment, the four nodded a goodbye. Castiel laid his hands on the brothers’s shoulders before disappearing. You turned to face the cheeky Weasley twins.

“And you’ve learned spells to cast out demons?” “It’s not Dark Magic, is it?” “Will Anna remember anything?” “How does no one know?” “Boys,” you interrupted starkly with a smirk, “One at a time.”

They nodded. You shook your head.

“The basics are that demons are real. One possessed Anna. Both with magic and muggle means, we cast it back to hell. And no. It’s not Dark Magic. Extremely advanced, yes. Dark, no.” “Why haven’t you said anything?” Fred asked after a beat. “You could’ve been hurt,” George added. You frowned slightly. “I haven’t said anything because of all that’s going on. You Know Who’s an incredible threat; we can’t afford to forget that. Which reminds me, neither of you can anything about this.”

The twins nodded. You scratched the back of your neck as the silence dragged on. Fred smirked.

“It was pretty wicked how the demon blew up.” A smile twitched at your lips. “Might inspire some tricks,” George added, catching on.

You giggled in the middle of the common room. You shook your head.

“You two are ridiculous.”

Immediately, the twins shot up and pretended to act as a boggart: making ridiculous faces to be less scary. As if that was difficult. Your chuckling grew at the two helped you decompress from the hunt. Maybe a couple people knowing wasn’t so bad.

Perma-tags: @dontbeamenacetotheforce @ttelesilla @jumperswellies @caitsymichelle13

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