#pushing himself too hard despite his failing health

[pixelatedraindrops]

Yuma Month: Day 25: Broken

Night terrors, burning body temperature, delirious hallucinations, and glassy faded vision…

Helpless and afraid, he calls out for his caretaker…but he’s not there…

He’s all alone now…with no one to help…

Completely broken.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Replay - Good Ending

Requested By: @f4gg0t-4-0b3y-m3

Part 1 - Part 2

Summary: No matter how hard you try to save your friends, death is unavoidable and they all meet their end. The Seven Demon Brothers + Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon & Solomon Featuring Luke, Raphael, Mephisto & Thirteen Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 6,671

You weren’t sure exactly how many days had passed since that party where everyone found out the truth about you and the things you had experienced.

It was hard to keep track of time when you were doing the same thing day in and day out. 

Everyone had been spending countless hours trying to formulate a plan to survive - to “cheat death”.

You wouldn’t have believed such a thing was possible if it weren't for the fact that your friends were all either angels or demons.

And the one that wasn’t either of those was an immortal sorcerer. 

You were their motivation to keep going. 

You had only opened up a little bit about the things you had seen.

It hurt you to talk about it. It hurt to recall all of the images of the ones you loved dying in front of you.

They were each curious in their own way about what had happened and how they died. 

But none of them were curious enough to ask you and cause the pain of remembering just to satisfy their interests.

They never wanted you to have to lose them again.

They could see the mental, emotional, and physical toll this whole situation had taken on you. 

They could see how exhausted you were.

You needed to escape from this turmoil for your own health. And they would each do their part in making sure it happened.

Besides the effects that their deaths had on you, they also had their own selfish reason for not wanting the timeline to restart once again - they didn’t want to forget you.

They couldn’t imagine it. They didn’t want to imagine it.

You meant so much to them. You had changed them all for the better. You had made so many memories with them.

They didn’t want to forget those memories and relive them. 

They wanted to keep the ones they had and cherish them.

And those reasons were what stirred them all on.

Maybe it was the memories that they held onto that increased their endurance.

Or maybe it was their love for you that pushed them to fight even harder.

Whatever it was - it worked.

It was a hard battle.

It was a long and gruesome fight and no one came out unscathed. But, it was over.

All the pain and suffering that you had been relentlessly going through to try and find a way to save your friends was finished.

The horror movie that you had been trapped in had finally concluded.

And you couldn’t help but feel emotional as relief washed over you.

You felt a huge pressure taken off of you as you felt like for the first time in a very long time, you could relax. 

The Devildom wasn’t in peril. Your friends weren’t in danger.

You made it.

Now, all there was left to do was tend to the wounds they had acquired during the fight.

Lucifer was the strongest for the reason.

There hadn’t been a time in his life when Lucifer didn’t feel the need to protect his family. 

Even in the Celestial Realm, he always made sure to look out for his younger siblings, ensuring their safety at every turn and doing what he could to guide them in the right direction.

So when you told Lucifer that everyone died, he nearly lost control.

The image of losing his siblings he always fought so hard to protect nearly broke him.

And if they had died multiple times that meant that he failed multiple times.

He refused to fail you or anyone else again.

Despite how well he presented himself, Lucifer was a demon just like the others. And when he was angry, he tended to lose control. 

So when the fight first started and he saw the first of his brothers get wounded, his initial reaction was to lash out and attempt to kill everything in sight.

But you were there with him and begged him to keep a level head. 

In your past experiences, being hot-headed is what always led to his demise.

Normally Lucifer was too prideful to listen to others when it came to fighting. He would control the situation and do as he pleased.

But he had seen the pain and desperation in your eyes, and it sparked something inside of him. 

He did as you asked. His attacks were calculated instead of rushed and it’s what kept him alive. 

You were gently cleaning a cut on Lucifer’s forehead, taking special care in every movement you made to make sure you didn’t aggravate his injury any further.

Lucifer took in your scent, secretly admitting to himself that you were the only one he would allow to be this close to him.

He had been relieved when no one had perished in the fight, but he could only imagine what you must be feeling like.

He studied your features a bit more and saw the deep bags under your eyes from your restless nights and the way you were standing told him that your muscles ached from the constant work you put them under.

You finished tending to the gash on his forehead and Lucifer immediately picked you up bridal style, lying you down in his bed.

It was his turn to take care of you now.

He could feel a few tears run down your cheeks as he held you close to him and he knew that they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of relief.

He gently ran his fingers through your hair before telling you, “You can rest now, darling. It’s over.”

Lucifer was the one who protected his family and he was going to make sure he protected you from ever feeling pain like this again.

There was a comfortable silence between you and Mammon as you gently wrapped a bandage around his wrist.

Mammon looked at you with so much adoration as he watched your features. 

You were concentrating so hard, trying to make sure the bandage wasn’t too tight or too loose.

The scene brought back fond memories for him of when he wrapped your wrist.

It was right after the TSL battle between you and Levi. Levi had lost control and attacked.

Mammon tried to save you but Lucifer had gotten to you first and got the situation under control, ensuring that you wouldn’t be harmed.

Only for you to fall and injure your wrist anyway.

Mammon remembered being so jealous when Lucifer was the one who saved you. He recalled the words he said to you that day as clearly as if he had said them yesterday.

“Listen. The next time your life’s in danger, I’m gonna be the one to save you, all right? Don’t you forget that. And if I can’t manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it?! I don’t want no one else steppin’ in and savin’ you, all right?! It’s me or no one, understand?”

He wanted to laugh at how stupid he sounded back then - saying how he wanted to be the only one you depended on one second and then calling you a dumb human that he could care less about the next.

But you always saw through his tsundere act and you never pushed him away because of it.

And the words he had spoken that day still held some truth. He wanted to be the one to save you. He was the one who saved you. And he had made sure to survive just for you.

You had finished wrapping his hand and Mammon took his eyes off of you for a moment to inspect your work. It was a job well done.

Mammon opened his mouth to tell you as much but stopped in his tracks when he saw a tear starting to fall down your cheek.

Mammon panicked slightly as he pulled you down onto the bed next to him, gently cupping your cheek with his good hand.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mammon asked, desperately searching your eyes for an answer to what was upsetting you.

You leaned into his touch as you looked into his cobalt eyes. 

“I’m just glad I didn’t lose you again,” you admitted and a deep blush coated Mammon’s cheeks.

The night that you spent together after the party, you had promised him that he wouldn’t lose you.

But it never occurred to him that he didn’t make the same promise. And he could see how worried you were about it. 

Mammon dared himself to lean forward, placing his lips on yours in a gentle kiss.

He was so thankful when you immediately leaned into the kiss, proving that it was something you had both been equally craving.

“You’ll never have to lose me again,” Mammon promised you, barely above a whisper.

He knew that the future was uncertain. He knew that something bad could happen at any given moment.

But, the fact was that he had found the love of his life. And he wouldn’t allow anything to separate the two of you again.

Levi had put on a brave face for you.

He didn’t want you to see how much he was freaking out internally at the thought of losing everyone he cared about. At losing you. At possibly losing his own life.

For once he wanted to be the main character.

He wanted to be the hero who saved the day instead of the sidekick who merely provided motivation and help when necessary.

And heroes didn’t have mental breakdowns in front of their love interests.

But on the inside, Levi was dying. 

He spent so much time worrying about his insecurities and speaking to himself in a derogatory way.

And he was scared now more than ever that he wouldn’t be enough.

Levi was a General in the Celestial Realm but when peace had been established and he was no longer needed, he became an introvert.

When he fell, he earned a new title - The Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, but he never had the opportunity to use it in any capacity.

Typically the only thing that name gave him was control over Lotan.

But after promising you he would not only survive but help everyone else survive as well, Levi had to remember what being a general meant.

You gave him all the courage he needed to prove why he was the third most powerful among his brothers. 

He fought dauntlessly and took out a large number of enemies and you had never been so proud of the quiet otaku.

He was nervous to look at the wounds he received during battle, a bit anxious about the way they would look.

But luckily, you had offered to tend to them for him.

Levi was flustered the entire time, not used to you being this close to him, and he did his best to control his nerves while your hands brushed over different spots of his body.

“You were like a knight in shining armor out there, Levi,” you complimented him as if he needed another reason to blush.

“Do you know what the hero always gets as a reward for saving the day?” you questioned with a small smile.

Levi’s eyebrows knitted together for a moment, trying to find the answer to your question.

When the realization dawned on him, his cheeks were hot and bright red.

You let out a small chuckle at his reaction before moving closer and pressing your lips to his. 

“Thank you for being my savior - and my player two,” you told him honestly, before wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug.

He was definitely going to play the hero role more often.

Satan wasn’t generally an optimist. He was a realist.

He analyzed the details of the situation and predicted the proper outcome that was expected to happen.

He was straightforward with his words, seeing no point in sugarcoating the truth or speaking lies to make someone feel better.

But that all changed for him when the two of you were together after he had found out about his death.

He knew that given the fact that you hadn’t been able to prevent the inevitable from happening before, that it would most likely happen again. 

And if the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, then - by definition - you were insane.

But that insanity is what kept bringing you back to him. That insanity is what gave him the opportunity to know and fall in love with you over and over again.

So, if being insane meant that the two of you got to be together, then he wanted to be insane with you.

And when he held you his his arms that night, he couldn’t help but betray his beliefs and tell you what you wanted to hear.

He promised you that your story wasn’t going to end this time - that he would find a way to make sure that it continued.

He knew there was no proof that he could keep that promise. He knew that the odds were incredibly low.

But he would say them to you repeatedly if only to provide you a little bit of comfort.

He wanted to keep that promise to you, but his expectations were low.

He fought with everything he had, but he still felt like his efforts wouldn’t pay off in the end.

He believed he would suffer the same fate that you had told him about.

So when the final enemy dropped and he found himself still alive, he was as surprised as you were. He was as relieved as you were. 

And now here you were, standing in front of him and gently tending to a wound he had received on his shoulder.

You were close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from your body and he was itching to pull you into his lap once more.

He had tried to do so almost immediately after the two of you reached his room, but you playfully scolded him for it.

He knew that his wound needed to be treated, but it was the furthest thing from his mind. 

It was at the forefront of yours though and you made sure to thoroughly clean it and cover it to ensure that it wouldn’t get infected.

You weren’t even sure if demons got infections the same way that humans did, but you weren’t taking any chances.

The moment you were finished placing the bandage on his shoulder, Satan’s arms were around you, pulling you on top of him and holding you close.

You let out a small chuckle as you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck. Your arm wrapped around the opposite side of his neck, hugging him back just as tightly.

You stayed like that for a moment before leaning slightly away and pressing a small kiss to his injured shoulder.

The action brought a blush to Satan’s cheeks but left him wanting more.

And so he gently titled your chin up and placed his lips on yours, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek as he savored every moment of the kiss.

He was ready to continue your love story and he couldn’t wait for the next chapter.

Asmo hated getting his hands dirty. 

He hated the idea of possibly chipping a nail or bruising his delicate skin.

When he was up in the Celestial Realm, his natural beauty is what earned him the nickname of the “Jewel of the Heavens”.

It was a title he wore with pride, knowing that everyone admired him even though he didn’t do much.

Up there he wasn’t afraid of fighting alongside his brothers because he felt like he would be beautiful no matter what.

That all changed when he fell from grace and became the Avatar of Lust.

Losing the angel part of him made him feel like he wasn’t as attractive and given the sin he had been designated to represent, that was unacceptable.

He heavily researched all of the best skin and hair products to use to amplify his beauty. He had a reputation to uphold.

And because he put so much effort into always making sure he looked perfect, he despised anything that would ruin his hard work.

But, for you, he would do anything.

If it meant keeping you safe and keeping himself safe for you, he would do whatever was necessary.

And, the battle he fought definitely left its mark on him.

He had multiple cuts on his arms and legs, but they were minor and would heal on their own.

The one that hurt was the large bruise that had blossomed on his cheek. 

He had been avoiding looking in the mirror, afraid of how he would feel when he saw the ugly mark that spread across his face.

But then you came to him and offered to help him apply ice to the bruise.

And your hand was so warm as it rested on his other cheek, gently tilting his head in the right direction and keeping it there so you could hold the ice pack to the contusion.

“You were amazing out there,” you complimented him and despite the pain he was feeling, Asmo smiled up at you. 

“You think so?” he asked, a feeling of happiness taking over his senses. It’s how he always felt when he was in your presence.

You nodded your head and gently removed the ice pack, not wanting to harm his skin by holding the ice to it for too long at one time.

“You were worth the bruises and cuts,” Asmo admitted softly, his amber eyes lighting up as they connected with yours.

His words melted your heart and you felt the need to help make him feel better.

“Well, since you fought so bravely for me, I feel like it’s only fair that I take care of you until you heal,” you replied, taking a few steps closer.

You gently lifted his arm and placed a chaste kiss to every injury that you could see and then did the same to his other arm.

You ended your onslaught of kisses with a final one to his cheek where the bruise was.

Asmo closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling as your lips lingered on his cheek for just a little longer.

He wouldn’t be upset if he got hurt again in the future - as long as you were there to kiss every wound. 

Beel had been the most anxious about the entire situation.

He hadn’t been able to stop the nightmares from taking over his mind since you told him about everyone dying. 

He couldn’t imagine losing his brothers the way he had lost Lilith. He couldn’t imagine losing his friends. 

He would find a way to protect everyone and that included you.

Beel hadn’t been in a life-or-death situation since he and his brothers fell.

Back in the Celestial Realm, he was one of the most renowned warriors. 

He was great at fighting which is why he always stepped up when it came to protecting his family.

But, he never would have thought he would find himself in another situation where he had to fight. Where he had to protect his family or he would lose him.

He was fearless and relentless in his attacks and while it was one of the reasons everyone made it out alive, it also meant he had received numerous wounds. 

You were stitching up what felt like the third or fourth gash on Beel’s upper arm as he happily ate with his free hand.

After working up such a big appetite, he hadn’t stopped eating since he got home, even when you told him you needed to take care of his injuries.

But the one thing that pulled his attention away from his food was when he noticed the tears streaming down your face. 

He furrowed his eyebrows as he ate the last bite of food so that he could use his hands to cradle your face and force you to look away from his arm and into his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, carefully wiping away your tears.

You hadn’t even realized you had been crying until he said something and you touched your cheek as if to confirm his accusations were true.

“I guess I’m just…happy. It’s finally over,” you admitted and Beel gave you a small smile at your words.

He knew what it was like to be plagued by nightmares and he was glad that yours was finally over.

You leaned in and placed a kiss to Beel’s lips and his eyes widened in surprise before slowly melting into it. 

When you pulled away you told him, “Thank you for protecting everyone.”

Beel pulled you into a hug, attempting to slow his heart rate from your display of affection.

He told you he would protect you and his family and he meant it. He would always protect you.

Belphie may have been the youngest among his brothers, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t powerful in his own right.

He knew how to fight and he tended to fight dirty.

If he couldn’t overpower the enemies the same way his older brothers could then he would manipulate them and outmaneuver them - whatever he had to do to pull his own weight in the fight.

He stayed especially close to you and Beel, always making sure the two of you were in his line of sight so that if he had to take a blow for one of you, he could.

Under no circumstances would he let one of you die in front of him.

He tended to follow his brothers’ lead and would attack at specific moments that would prove most beneficial.

Work smarter, not harder.

Naturally, when it was all over, the first thing Belphie wanted to do was sleep.

He worked really hard out there on the battlefield and he needed to recharge his batteries.

You, however, refused to let him do so without treating his injuries first.

Belphie tried to protest at first, even going so far as to beg you to let him sleep.

But when he realized he wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep before you took care of him, he let out a dramatic sigh and gave in, allowing you to do what was necessary.

“Thank you for not dying,” you told him and he let out a snort. 

He wasn’t sure how much power he had in choosing his own fate but if that’s what you wanted to believe to make you feel better, then he would play along.

“You’re welcome,” he replied as you finished what you were doing.

Belphie immediately pulled you into the bed with him, wrapping his arms around you as he rested his head on your chest.

He did what you wanted him to do and now it was your turn.

You comfortingly ran your fingers through Belphie’s hair and he relaxed under your touch.

You didn’t mind him laying on top of you like this because it was just further proof that he survived. That he was there with you.

Belphie had been desperately wanting sleep but now that he was lying in your arms, his mind was racing with a hundred things he wanted to say and it was keeping him awake.

After a few more moments, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked at you. 

You locked eyes with him and you could see the adoration he held in them.

After everything that happened in his past, he never would have thought a human could have such a strong hold over him.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, committing the way your lips felt against his to memory.

He told you that he would never forget about you and it wasn’t just a promise he made to comfort you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Because he didn’t know what he would do without you. 

Even though you told them that everyone else had died and that you survived, it didn’t mean that you weren’t equally at risk. 

One wrong move and you could have been taken from him.

“Thank you for not dying too,” he stated and you smiled up at him.

“You’re welcome,”  you replied and he fell back into your arms, pulling you even closer.  

Diavolo felt an immense amount of pressure on his shoulders when he heard about the tragic deaths of everyone he had come to know and love.

He was the presiding ruler of the Devildom and it was his responsibility to protect those that resided in his kingdom.

He wasn’t sure what mistakes he made in the past that allowed for them to all meet their end.

But he was determined to not make a single one this time.

Being born as a royal in the Devildom, Diavolo grew up training how to fight and he was very good at it.

He led the charge against the enemies with Barbatos advising his every step and the brothers backing up his every move.

He truly blossomed in his role as the future King of the Devildom. 

And while he wished he could say that his motivation to fight valiantly was because of his desire to protect his citizens, you were at the forefront of his mind.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how he couldn’t let you down. How he had to protect you. How he had to come back to you.

You were what drove him forward and spurred on each and every attack.

And as you stood in front of him, your body pressed against his as you helped him with his abrasions, Diavolo couldn’t help but wonder - when did you become so important to him?

He would put everything on the line for you, and while most would take advantage of a prince in that position, you were different.

You would never ask him to do that and he loved you even more for it.

He had told you that he would make you his Queen if he could and he never once regretted speaking those words to you.

He had many fantasies of the two of you ruling side by side and he thought those dreams would never be able to come to fruition after you told him about the horrible events that took place.

He thought that his dreams of making you his would be ripped from him.

And now that you were both here, both of you alive and - for the most part - healthy, Diavolo wanted to make those dreams a reality.

He wouldn’t wait for something else to come up and risk separating the two of you again.

He didn’t even wait for you to finish tending to his wounds when he pulled you into him and passionately crashed his lips to yours.

He didn’t care how long it took or who he needed to convince, you would rule alongside him. 

Now that he had you, he was never letting you go and you were happy to take your place by his side.

Barbatos was one of the most powerful demons you could have fighting on your side.

He served Lord Diavolo closely for a reason and it wasn’t just for his ability to provide excellent service.

His age provided an expansive amount of experience and his wisdom provided an excellent point of view when making a battle plan.

Barbatos knew every fighting technique and strategy. He knew every formation that would be advantageous and which ones to avoid.

After hearing the news of everyone’s massacre from you, Diavolo had asked Barbatos to look into the future and see how it happened.

There were multiple different scenarios. Different catalysts caused a different set of events to occur.

And Barbatos prepared for every single one of them.

You were hoping that he would pull through for you and he wanted to prove that he was someone you could depend on.

He wanted to prove that he was someone you could trust.

His advice and instructions had paid off.

He had given everyone a summary of the things he had learned and you had seen them effectively putting that information to use.

It prevented them from getting seriously injured and even allowed them to pull off surprise attacks that permitted your friends to gain the upper hand. 

Barbatos had gotten injured during the battle, but he wasn’t planning on making those injuries known.

It was his job to service others, not to have others tend to him.

After making sure the others were properly taken care of he disappeared to his room to treat his own wounds.

He let out a small gasp as he saw you there, already waiting for him with a kit in hand. 

You motioned for Barbatos to sit down and he did as you asked, knowing it would be pointless to try and argue with you.

Barbatos didn’t have any noticeable wounds on him but you had seen him get struck on the back and you knew that it would be a hard injury for him to take care of by himself.

You asked him to take off his shirt, albeit with a blush covering your cheeks, and he complied.

You did your best to not stare as you walked behind him to start cleaning and bandaging the cut. 

Your hands were efficient and gentle while treating the laceration and Barbatos tried to fill his mind with random thoughts to keep it from thinking about the way your hands felt on his skin.

He could feel your breath fanning down his back and a shiver went down his spine. He did his best to hide it from you though.

When you were done, you hugged him from behind, your arms wrapping around his chest as you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck.

Barbatos was blushing, his heart racing, as he tried to process the shock of your movement.

“Thank you for being there for me and for helping end things once and for all,” you told him.

Your lips being so close to his ear made him flustered as he placed his arms over yours, attempting to hug you back.

“I told you - I’ll always be here for you,” he replied, a smile gracing his features even though you couldn’t see it. 

You pulled away to place a kiss on his cheek and he took the opportunity to spin around and pull you into his arms, where he planned on keeping you for the rest of the night.

During the fight, Simeon was the one who kept the most watchful eye over you.

He was a powerful angel and did what he could to help the others fight.

But, every few seconds he kept getting distracted by you.

He knew it was dangerous to take your focus off your enemy, but he was just so worried that you would get hurt. He couldn’t help it.

His concern didn’t go unnoticed. 

You recognized the way his eyes hardly left your figure and the way you felt his wing wrap around you when he felt like an attack was getting a little too close to you.

He had taken multiple lacerations that were meant for you, and he didn’t even flinch when they hit him.

He gladly took them, making sure you came out of the battle unscathed. He couldn’t handle seeing you hurt.

And because of his strong efforts to protect you, you felt like you owed Simeon some extra TLC once it was all over.

He winced slightly as you cleaned a cut on his cheek and you immediately retracted your hand as if it betrayed you.

“I’m sorry!” you told him and he gave you a warm smile as he gently grabbed your wrist and led it back to his cheek.

“It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it is all,” he replied and you gave him a small smile, continuing to treat his injury, being extra careful this time.

“How are you feeling?” Simeon asked you as you gently placed a bandage over the lesion.

You sat down next to him and he turned his head slightly to the side, urging you to be honest with him.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally allowed yourself to feel the emotions you had been bottling up.

As soon as Simeon saw you crying, he pulled you into his arms, gently rubbing his hand over your back and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m just so relieved it’s over,” you admitted and Simeon nodded his head, understanding where you were coming from.

“I would have kept my promise, you know?” Simeon asked and you pulled back to look up at the angel.

“Even if we couldn’t stop it, I would have found my way to you,” Simeon told you gently running the back of his hand over your cheek, letting his thumb brush your lower lip before falling away.

You immediately leaned forward and pressed your lips to Simeon’s wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him as close as possible.

You only broke away when you needed to breathe and you looked into his blue eyes.

“I would have found my way back to you too,” you told him genuinely and Simeon believed you. 

He believed that the two of you were destined for each other, and now that you had both survived, he was going to make the most of the time that the two of you had with each other.

Like everyone else, Solomon had made you the promise that he wouldn’t stop the tragic events that you had experienced from happening.

He made you a promise that you would never have to go through all of that pain again.

He made you a promise that he would never leave you again.

And he did everything in his power to ensure that he kept that promise.

It didn’t matter how many incantations he had to perform or how many times he had to put up protective barriers around everyone.

He didn’t care if it took every last ounce of magical energy that he had. 

He helped make sure that everyone made it out of there safe.

Solomon played the support role rather than being at the front of the battle so he didn’t have a ton of physical injuries.

But he was far more exhausted than any of the others.

He knew that his job was one of the most important ones and he would be damned if he didn’t do it to perfection.

He refused to let any of his friends die.

But at the end of the day, no matter how immortal or powerful he was, Solomon was still human.

And he had his limits on how much magic he could use at one time.

He had pushed himself nearly to his breaking point, hardly able to stand after it was all said and done. 

You took him back to Purgatory Hall and got him in his bed.

Solomon didn’t like looking weak, but in front of you, he didn’t mind.

You made him his favorite tea and snack and brought it to him, sitting next to him on the bed.

You gently wiped any sweat from his brow and continuously placed the back of your hand on his forehead to check for a fever.

Not that Solomon would ever complain. He enjoyed the feeling of your hand on his forehead as you leaned close to him. 

After the tenth time of resting your hand against his forehead, Solomon reached up and interlaced your fingers with his.

“Is my adorable apprentice worried about me?” Solomon asked with a cheeky smile and your cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“Maybe…you pushed yourself really hard out there,” you replied and he could see the concern in your eyes.

“I had a promise to keep,” Solomon replied nonchalantly before gently squeezing your hand and adding, “I’m fine - I just need to rest.”

You nodded your head, adjusting his blankets a bit and Solomon took advantage of the moment to tell you, “If you want to help, you could always rest with me.”

He let out a small chuckle at your flustered expression and decided to tease you just a little more by stating, “I would recover much faster if you were next to me.”

You knew that he was taunting you, but you did as he asked anyway, slipping under the covers and resting your head on his chest.

Solomon’s arms wrapped around you and he had a happy smile on his face as he held you close to him.

“Just this once,” you told him with a smirk.

You knew it was a lie. He knew it was a lie. 

After all, even though you restarted the timeline multiple times, you found your way back to him and he wasn’t letting you go.

Luke may be considered young when it came to angels, but he wasn’t stupid.

The gravity of your words hit him just as hard as it hit everyone else.

His expectations of him surviving were low and it wasn’t beneath him to admit that he was scared.

When he managed to escape with only a few minor injuries, Luke had made up his mind to try more new things even if it scared him. 

He would make sure to spend as much time with you as possible and maybe - just maybe - he wouldn’t be so hard on the others for being demons.

But if they decided to do something that he would consider bad or evil, then all bets were off the table.

*

Mephisto already felt like a failure when you told him that everyone died, including Diavolo.

It was his job to protect the throne and if Diavolo died then he had failed his only purpose.

He made an extra effort to protect Diavolo in the fight and was so grateful when everyone managed to escape.

It wasn’t lost on him that he could have lost his life in that battle though. And now that he’d been granted more time, he would use it to his advantage.

So what if he wanted to spend more time with you? Don’t mistake him for falling under your spell like Lucifer.

He just wanted to see what all the fuss was about…

*

Raphael had come almost instantly when Simeon told him what was happening.

The Celestial Realm and the Devildom may not always get along, but he was happy to fight alongside everyone when it came to a common enemy.

It was clear that the war may not have been won without Raphael’s help and your abundant gratitude was enough to finally bring a blush to the high-ranking angel’s cheeks.

He tried not to get caught up in the affairs of the exchange program, but it was hard to not want to when you had that look of adoration in your eyes as you looked at him.

Perhaps he would have to bring you to the Celestial Realm sometime and show you his favorite spots.

*

Thirteen was both excited and disappointed at how everything played out.

She didn’t really want to lose everyone she had come to know, but at the same time, she was a reaper.

Without death, she would be out of a job.

In all seriousness though, she was tired of the boys stealing your attention.

You all just escaped death and she had been very nervous about possibly having to reap your soul this early.

From now on, she would be making sure she got as much time with you as she wanted.

And if anyone wanted to protest, she had the perfect trap for them!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tempted to make an alternate ending where only MC dies

[httpshoney]

jungwon has always been observant.

no one could catch the glances he’d take in your direction, they were quick and discreet and he usually conceal a smile that forms on his face whenever he catches you staring out the window with your mouth agape, or when your head is hanging low as an attempt to catch a nap from all the cheerful activities you do.

you were the sunshine of their class, your presence alone made it hard for everyone to go on their day adorning a frown. jungwon has always been amazed by your consistency and failure to show other emotions than joy and calm. to them, to him– you happen to be the best person they’ve encountered. his mind would wander during the afternoons when he heads straight to hybe, the thoughts of you and sunoo meeting keeps him preoccupied and it never fails to leave a grin on his face.

he wasn’t in love with you, not yet. it’s just that, you frequent his mind more than he expected.

those were the words he’d repeatedly mumble, a mantra to convince himself that the flower in his heart hasn’t bloomed to his favorite feeling but there was no denying when he wants to see your vulnerability and stay with you, the same way you did when you caught him in the middle of a breakdown on the school’s rooftop. he became a firm believer that during his breakdown on the rooftop, you would break down too if he wasn’t there.

you were all smiles and laughter, you were the warmth of their class but surely your cheeks would hurt from all those smiling and laughter and if they did, could it be that you were shivering inside?

the day when you became all he can think of, jungwon wanted to be your safe place, just like you were his. the fast paced environment he’s settling in was too much in most occasions, the numbing pressure of being on his toes 24/7 to make sure their group’s name is void of dirt, and the fact that his current social status became a threat to his mental health– jungwon was more than relieved to know you.

but now that graduation is around the corner, there was added pressure to keep you in his life. he didn’t want you to be a part of his past only where he can only talk about you in past tense. he wanted to keep you in the present and in the future. so he frantically observed you on the day of their graduation.

his eyes were almost fixated on you, he followed your movements and looked if you were around any family members because in that case, it would be hard for him to finally talk to you.

shockingly, despite being each other’s company countless times. Neither of you initiated a conversation, your moments together were filled with pushing banana milk to one’s side to comfort them and the silence did all the talking. his fingers fidget and his throat felt too dry for his liking, god… he never felt this nervous when performing. was getting someone’s number this hard? jungwon never knew that it was this hard, he suddenly thought of his previous admirers who had the courage to ask for his number– and suddenly felt bad that he never gave it to them.

jungwon is observant, he’s alert and in whatever situation he’s in. he’ll always notice every movement, but maybe because it was hot in the auditorium, or maybe because his hyungs were there but jungwon never noticed you walking up to him.

“jungwon?” you watched as he flinched, shocked at the sudden intrusion that put all of his thoughts to rest. you felt bad, from where you were, you noticed all of his fidgeting and figured that he was overthinking. you were sure he was overthinking, from the moments you spent with each other on the rooftop; the furrowing of his brows, although very minimal and the nibbling of his bottom lip were all you needed to know that his mind was going haywire.

“y/n from your class, figured you might have forgotten my name.. are you okay?”

jungwon isn’t in love, not yet. right? but when you asked him how he’s feeling, he knew you picked up all of his mannerisms. jungwon is in love. he really is.

he never forgot your name even when you’ve never fully introduced yourself to him, and the thought of you holding a conversation with him excites him. he felt his blood rush to his face, his hands were sweating;

“can i have your number?”

[mwolf0epsilon]

A Disgraced Trooper's Last Resort

Corrie moonshine has the kind of punch that can knock your teeth out. It's bootlegged with whatever they can find that won't outright kill them if it settles in their stomach, but definitely strong enough that it would sooner be considered outright gutrot than an actual FDA approved drink.

Not something your run of the mill liquor license or health insurance would cover.

Not that Fox really concerns himself with either of those things as he takes a swig from his lucky flask. To him a drink is a drink, especially when he feels like he needs it most. And he did need that extra push of liquid courage tonight more than he ever had before.

To put it simply, he was between a rock and a hard place. Relations between the GAR and the Guard were at an all time low. And, despite his Corries saying otherwise, it was all his fault.

He'd stumbled and made some terribly misguided mistakes. Grasped at tantalising straws that he'd hoped would be his and his men's salvation, only to fail time and time again. Burying himself and his troopers deeper and deeper in a grave that had been prepared for them since arrival. Eagerly applauded by the man who'd made them all his fools and jesters.

He'd botched Commander Tano's capture and then shot a brother dead. And not just any brother either. He'd shot one of Rex's boys. The only surviving one that he'd claimed from the defunct Rishi Moon outpost.

The heat was on high and everyone he loved and cared for was suffering terribly for it.

From his commanders to the shiniest of shinies. All because he couldn't win against Palpatine. He was in too deep and had no allies that could get him and his men back out of this deep dark pit. At least not any allies that had any real power.

Fox was playing a game that he simply couldn't win. But maybe he didn't have to...

Taking another swig of the flask, Fox contemplated the only logical conclusion he'd reached in the last couple of months, as he'd noticed just how much things had deteriorated. Contemplated this rather outlandish plan of his that was very much a last desperate call to set things right.

It all came back to flimsywork and the world of bureaucracy. Things he hated but was much too intimately familiar with. He'd submitted the performance report a month ago before settling for another round of the waiting game. Detailed what needed to be scrutinised, and omitted what most definitely didn't. His idea was a little out there but not unheard of, especially with the observations he'd dutifully jotted down to back up his decision.

And then there was the matter of tempting the Chancellor with something he couldn't quite resist, which he thought he'd done so beautifully. If he was good at anything besides suffering through logistics and political nonsense, it was nicely baiting a trap of his own.

As soon as Fox made his next move, a few things would change. Hopefully for the better. Not that his men would understand. At least not at first... But it had to be done. He'd made the assessments and he had certainly done his homework. As soon as the report was called in for review to pick his successor, they would very easily concede to his wishes.

Due to the current losses and supposed number of decomms, there were simply not enough skilled guardsmen for it to justify promoting their most veteran commanding officers. Thorn would be barred the position of marshal commander due to both his position as head of the prison force, and his constant requisitioning for escort missions. So would Stone, who was far too proficient in his senatorial guard duties to be pulled aside as a glorified secretary to the Chancellor. And Thire would need to take time off to train a replacement officer to guide the patrolsmen due to having the best knowledge of Coruscant's layout, making him the most effective patrol co-ordinator they had ever had.

And time was not something anyone could spare on Triple Zero.

And, with no one else nearly as experienced or simply far too important in their current positions, that left only one option should the position of marshal commander ever open up: Requisition a trooper just as skilled as Fox himself from another battalion.

Which is exactly what he'd done when he'd submitted the report. Should he be incapacitated or destroyed, command of the Guard would fall to the only person he trusted to be capable of leading them. Or, in Fox's true motivation, that had the actual power to put an end to Palpatine's sick little games.

And the best part? No one would call into question his choice on the matter. He'd waited more than enough after he'd submitted the report for it to register as valid on record, even after he did what he was about to do.

Which is why, as Fox finished emptying his flask as he stood on the very roof of the Senate building, he couldn't help but smile. Smile and wish Cody the best of luck. The bastard was going to need it, especially when Fox knew Palpatine would rejoice at taking something, anything, from General Kenobi who he seemed to so greatly despise.

The neon lights and smell of chemicals and pollution greeted the disgraced marshal commander as he stood at the very edge of the roof. Ready to make a spectacle of this. Ready to set his own twisted little game into motion. Palpatine had won the first few rounds, but he would not be able to best Cody. Not with the reputation he had, nor the esteem he'd earned. Which was exactly what Fox was counting on.

And, as he flung himself forward towards his inglorious demise, he hoped against all hope that Cody's fondness for his general was a mutual thing and not once-sided. If just so his little brothers in the Guard could finally have a chance.

He was, quite literally, taking a leap of faith.

[ghostgirlgroup]

if you still think Coach Ben is a boring character with no purpose who was a waste of screen time this season, we haven’t been watching the same show. We see all his flashbacks to understand where he’s been all this time, while the teens descend to madness around him: he’s in his own head, imagining himself happy at at home with his boyfriend. He feels useless in every sense, both because his disability makes him physically less capable in this environment and because he’s just a high school soccer coach/health teacher. He is very literally not equipped to help the girls much so he just gives up. He’s depressed to the point of near catatonia, and the only thing that shakes him out of it is that his fantasy literally pushes him out. He can’t stay there or he’ll die, things are getting worse and he cannot keep pretending they aren’t or he’ll die.

And, at first of course, he says, okay guess I’ll die and Misty is only able to get through to him by reminding him that despite how useless he feels, the kids do still need him. This is what reinvigorates him to live: that there’s still SOMETHING he might be able to do. He takes action, he makes snow crutches, and finds the cave. And when he comes back… well maybe the rest of them are too far gone, but he can still save Nat. Maybe someone can SAVE NAT. But it’s too little too late, he failed them and now they’re all beyond saving.

There are a lot of ways to read his decision to burn the cabin down, as a mercy killing or an act of punishment for their sins or lots of other stuff, but I think it’s not really worth thinking too hard about for now. This is the action of a trapped, desperate animal. This is a man who doesn’t know what to do, but knows that this is wrong, that this *should not BE* and that he has to do SOMETHING to stop it. He’s not boring, he just shook up the status quo majorly and he’ll do it again!

[evan4ever]

hiii! can i request a long cuddling session with kit walker x reader where hes really affectionate? you’re writing never fails to impress me <33

Long Day

Warnings: mentions of (child)death at readers job, but mostly fluff

a/n: thank you for the request 🤍

—

It had been a long day. As a nurse, you were on your feet more often then not and a 12 hour shift turned into a 16 hour shift when there was a no call no show and your facility had patients who needed to be taken care of. You often stayed after anyways, so it was no big deal, but goodness you were tired today.

You arrived home late. 9 pm. When you entered you front door, the living room was dark, only lit by a lamp in the corner — Kit always left it on for you. You made your way to the kitchen and saw the dirtied dishes that had been hand washed and were in the rack drying. You frowned slightly realizing Kit had also cooked supper for the two of you since you were supposed to be home at 5. He cooked, ate, and cleaned all by himself. You wondered how you found such a wonderful man.

You opened the fridge and looked around for something to eat since you hadn’t ate since breakfast, deciding on just an apple. You leaned against the counter as you bit into it, you mind wandering as you continued eating away at it.

You had two codes today, one whom happened to be a small boy. All patients who code bother you, but the children always tugged your heart harder. It was never something that was supposed to happen. No child should go before their parent. And despite your every and hardest attempt to revive this boy, he was gone. You held him while the doctor went to his parents to bare the worst news of their life, until he brought them back to which you handed him over.

You cried with them. You rubbed his mothers back as she cried over his small body wondering why this had to happen. You wished you could’ve told her, but no one knew the answer.

It was a rough day and you couldn’t get the picture out of your head as it replayed over and over.

“What’s wrong baby?” Your eyes shot open at Kit’s concerned voice, looking up at his as he stood before you with furrowed brows. You hadn’t realized you were crying.

“Oh.” You quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks and set the apple down and you stood up, shaking your head. Kit’s hands had found their way to your waist, holding you gently as you recomposed yourself. “It’s nothing. Just a bad day.” You nodded giving him a reassuring smile though he didn’t buy it.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’?” He tilted his head to the side urging you to talk to him. You gazed at him for a moment before sighing and allowing yourself to rest into his chest, his arms wrapping you up and his fingertips gently tracing over your back while he waited for you to open up to him.

“A young boy passed away today. I wasn’t able to save him.” You sighed deeper, your jaw clenching. “He was only 5.”

You felt Kit’s body tense as his grip around you tightened. He was the same when it came to children. And it always worried him when you had patients pass away on your watch, because he’s seen how hard it affects you. You never let go of those patients. They stay with you.

“Oh darlin’.” He sighed before pressing a kiss against your head. “M’sorry. Y’know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

You pulled yourself back enough to look up at him, giving him a tight lipped smile and a small nod. “Doesn’t make it any easier, though. No child should ever die. It’s not fair.” You whispered the last sentence as your eyes became glossy again, Kit quickly pulling you back to him tightly.

“Maybe you should take some time off. You’ve been workin’ a lot lately. Y’gotta take care of yourself too, suga.” He said softly into your hair. You smiled against him, appreciating how much he cared for you and your own health.

But you guys couldn’t afford for either of you to take off, so it was off the table.

“You know I can’t, babe.” You said quietly into him. You felt him sigh but he didn’t push further.

“Let’s go lay down. You need to get some rest.” He pulled away from you, taking your hands in his as he pulled you with him gently. You smiled up at him while allowing him to guide you to your shared bedroom.

He pulled the comforter down on your side for you, you crawling in as he crawled over you to his side and made his way under the blankets too. He wasted no time in wrapping you back into his arms, pulling you tightly to his chest while you confined yourself into his hold. The room filled with silence as you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck and listened to his breathing, each breath out relaxing you more. He was so warm and you always felt so safe in his presence.

“Do you think heaven exists?” You finally broke the silence, blinking a few times as you stared at the window behind Kit. You felt his arms pull you closer as he let out another sigh, your eyes finding their way to his now that were fixated on your hands that were between you and him. You gazed at his face wondering what he was thinking now.

“I’m not sure. But I think there’s something after life. And I think it’s a beautiful, pain free place.” he nods, his eyes flickering up to meet yours now. You raised your eyebrows a bit before you nodded in response.

“I hope so. It’s be nice to know for sure, so when these children do pass away, I can reassure myself that they’re going somewhere better than this life.” You looked down as you thought about it more.

Kit continued looking at you, his hand finding it’s way to your hair and brushing through it with his fingers in a form of comfort. His other hand found it’s way under your shirt, tracing more figures over your soft skin.

You guys cuddled often, but he was being extra affectionate tonight, knowing you needed it. It hurt him knowing you were hurting inside.

You felt him take a deep breath, looking back to his face.

“You know what my favorite thing about you is?” He asked, looking back down at you. You raised your eyebrows and shrugged, shaking you head in wonder. A small smile formed on his lips. “Your heart.”

You pressed your lips together and sucked in a deep breath, nuzzling your forehead against his chin which allowed him to place small kisses against your head. Your hands parted so they could wrap around him, his head lifting enough for you to slide your arm under it and into a hug. One of his arms still wrapped under your waist and pulling you into him so your body was plush against his, his other arm wrapped around your neck delicately, his hand against the side of your head holding it against him.

“Everything you feel, you feel so deeply. You care about those around you. You’re kind.. you’re loving.” You listened to his every word, your eyes closing in the process. “You have a heart of gold in a world of stone. I admire it. M’so happy that I get to call you mine.” You tightened your arms around him, his hand running gently down your face and to your shoulder. “I’ve never loved anything or anyone more than I do you.”

Your eyes squeezed closed tighter, trying not to well up again at his words. You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear them.

You were practically on top of him at this point, holding him to you still. One of his hands now rested on your back as his other played with your hair again, brushing through it gently. Every once in awhile he’d place another small kiss on your head, your cheek, your ear. Wherever he could. He just showered you in them while allowing you to hug all of your sorrows away through him.

“I love you so much” you mumbled into his neck where your face was snuggled into.

You finally felt the weight lift off of your shoulders, able to completely relax yourself into him and let your worries wash away.

“I love you baby.”

—

Tags: @evanpetersmood @witchsbitchestime @demxnicprxncess @yes-divine-ruler @shjjpm @evanpsrealwife @iruzias @jangsuzchap @quicksilversg1rl @submissiveforahsmen @angelmenace @lovelizzie-blog1 @justa19 @daylas-life @simp4petermaximoff @totta69

[exy-shmexy]

TW: angst, depression, mental health, loneliness

Andrew finding himself completely alone in his apartment during his first year going pro. the sole idea of calling something his fucking with his mind.

He dropped Neil off at the airport a couple hours before. A hollowness already gnawed at his mind when he watched Neil walk away to go back to PSU and leave him alone, but now that night has fallen and everything around him is quiet, the hollowness grows rapidly into something debilitatingly stronger. He hates himself for having let himself grow attached to people, to things, to stability and the constant presence of others around him which constantly reminded him he had people he could rely on, no matter how hard he tried and ultimately failed to keep them at arm’s length.

He heads to bed without eating, having no energy to smoke either. He sleeps, but he wakes up the next day even more tired than before. He knows what it is, knows he should call Bee, but he doesn’t even have the strength for that. He tells himself it’s his new life, he doesn’t have to text anyone, doesn’t want to bother them.

Neil texts him every day. Andrew can barely find the energy to answer most of the time. The Foxes’ group chat pings too much too often. He mutes it indefinitely.

Weeks pass and Andrew’s responses become even more sporadic. He is convinced no one wants to hear from him anyway.

Neil is worried.

Andrew hates that Neil is worried.

Andrew wants to disappear. He wants everyone to forget about him as if he were never there in the first place.

One day when he forget once again to sustain his own basic needs, there is a knock at his door.

Andrew doesn’t move from his couch. No one should be there, it’s probably some asswipe who wants to sell him something he doesn’t need. He ignores it but the knock comes again, more aggressive this time.

Andrew’s temper flares up immediately. He gets up and swings the door open only to find his carbon copy staring back at him with anger burning bright in his eyes.

“Good to know you’re still fucking alive, you asshole,” Aaron snarls, letting himself inside Andrew’s flat uninvited.

He shouldn’t be here. It’s the middle of the week. Aaron has classes and lives five hours away with Katelyn now.

“Why are you here?”

Aaron looks this close to exploding at his face. “You haven’t answered your phone in five fucking days. I thought you had done something incredibly stupid.”

Andrew is stunned. He didn’t want anyone to think about him, he didn’t think his own family would worry so he let his phone’s battery die completely. He doesn’t feel bad, not exactly, but he hates the angry relief in Aaron’s face now that he sees he’s alive.

“You look like shit,” Aaron sneers. His twin looks tired too, either from his flight or med school, or with worry but Andrew doesn’t want to think about that now. “Josten is on his way too, just so you know.”

Andrew doesn’t want to admit it, but relief floods mercilessly through his veins at the idea that there are people who care enough about him to check on him despite him putting his distance.

He doesn’t thank Aaron for coming all the way here, but he doesn’t push him away the entire time he is at Andrew’s place either.

[sharuruwrites]

Pretender

Goodbye. I am not your soulmate.

It’s heart-breaking, but I can’t deny reality,

Still, leaving your side is so hard.

-Pretender by Official Hige Dandism

Tags: Dazai x Fem!Reader, Dazai cranks up his self-loathing to a 100, hurt, break-up, angst, Dazai longing, before the events of entrance exam and after events of Port Mafia, Unedited

Disclaimer: I don't own BSD.

Masterlist

-------------------------

It was a silent morning in your apartment when Dazai uttered this words to you, his girlfriend of two years.

“Let’s break-up.”

Despite the indifferent tone in his voice, your expression didn't change as you silently drank your tea. Were you too shocked to process this information? Or, perhaps you knew you'll be parting ways with him?

You gently placed the cup down on the tea saucer, before meeting your soon-to-be ex's gaze. "If you truly want me to bawl my eyes out, you shouldn't have warned me in the first place, Osamu."

Before fate pushed you two to meet, Dazai recently passed his entrance exam as the new detective for the agency, and to celebrate his success, he chose to go to Lupin. And at that bar, you were there, drinking by yourself. After few exchange of glasses and, he found himself fascinated with you.

“Wanna go out?”‌ You asked, lazily tracing the lid of your glass. "I'm serious about it."

Dazai looked down at his alcoholic beverage. He didn't know you well enough for him to warrant to have a relationship with you, but neither do you. If he pursued this relationship, maybe you would help him understand more about humanity.

“Sure,”‌ Dazai smirked. “Although I agree to it, I just want to give you a heads up that our relationship will be short lived and one-sided.”

True to his words, he had the front row seats of his love story turning into a one-man show ran by you. What he didn’t expect, you stood by his side for the past two years. He couldn't pinpoint on what made you stay, but he liked to think that it had something to do with his love for dramatic flair. Afterall, you were just there whenever he needed someone to lean on. You never failed him. Because of it, he learned how to fall for you.

Except, him on the other hand, he lost count on the many times he knew you're disappointed on him. At first, he thought of many ways he could make up for it by showering you with gifts and affections. However, the moment you nursed him back to health from the annual flu, it became clear to him that you were never meant to be his.

Dazai Osamu was never gonna be your soulmate, because of how selfless you were. Perhaps, for the first time in his life, he feared the concept of 'us' between you and him, especially with his dark past and his line of work. He rather have you be well and alive, instead of fearing the possibility of you dying for him.

It was a strange idea for him to come into terms with it which it took him another 365 days to accept it. He always yearned to die with a beautiful lady like you next to him, but, his love for you wished that it wasn't you.

“I'm sorry, love.”‌

Like always, his apologies were devoid of life and meaningless. You never flinched away or got mad at him for it. It made him wonder why you're indifferent with his aloofness. Maybe you're aware of his shortcomings, or your too blinded by your love for him.

"What's there to apologize for?" You got up from your seat, before grabbing your used dishware. "It was nice while it lasted."

After what it felt like an eternity, he had to go and get ready for his mission in the afternoon. He left your spare keys to your apartment at the coffee table, and you assured him that you would drop his stuff at his place later in the day. All that's left of him was to open the door in front of him and leave.

But, his feet was cemented on the carpet floor like it was telling him not to leave. He already accepted the reality it wasn't you on his side at the end, but why does his heart kept trying to deny the truth?

“Osamu?" He looked behind, and saw you tilted your head to the side. "What's wrong?"

Dazai gently cupped your cheek with his hand, and his thumb brushed against your skin. He noticed three things immediately that brought a small smile to his lips. Your eyes were getting watery and red. Your temperature was unexpectedly hot. Lastly, the sudden stillness of your breath as if you have forgotten how to breathe after he touched your face.

A question popped in his head. Were you putting that strong facade for the both of you?‌ Or, to convinced yourself not to look pathetic in his goodbye?

Your warmth, your laughter, and the sound of his name from your voice, he wanted all of them ingrained it into his memory. He knew he’s a selfish and cruel man who loathe life itself, but…for once in his life, he wished he could change.

And, If he had the power to choose a life line, he would choose a different version of himself with a different set of personality and morals. Yet, it made him wonder if you still love him despite him being an entirely new person. He wished he could say 'I love you' to you without any repercussions.

But, his wishes and playing around the scenarios of what-if's were all in vain as you were another chapter in his life that he needed to move on from.

“I don’t…want to forget you that’s all…” Dazai took a deep breath before he smiled bittersweetly at you. "You're still beautiful that it made me left breatheless."

[gumballavocadoharry]

Letting go is harder than you think; Jack Chambers:

*Mentions of overprotectiveness, smothering, close relationships on edges, angst, a bit of a controlling parent (Jack), sadness, depression and some grief. And also some fluff with baby Roger and Jack's relationship with him.*

From the moment Jack's steady touch traced the soft smooth skin of his son, a deep bond formed. That day forward, his agape love for Roger never failed. Even on his worst days and moments, a harsh word or action never left his lips and would dare not to cross his mind, even for a second.

Looking into those spirited green orbs brought life into his own. The way Roger's miniature hands wrapped around Jack's lone finger sent a pitter-pattering of a throbbing heartbeat. No one could deny the special relationship Jack shared with both his children. But especially Roger. Likewise the same could be said for Alice and Susan.

Jack just had this complex relationship with Roger, especially at a time period where fathers were meant to be more tough and rigid in their demands of their children, especially their sons. But Jack was the complete opposite. He invested so much time, energy, emotion, money and even his own health- as did Alice- into his kids.

But he worked extra hard to install affection into Roger by setting a tender example in the way he made a 'man' out of him. The emotional attachment he had towards his little boy was shatterproof. The two were inseparable. It would be Jack holding Roger in his little sling and them exploring the world together.

Tummy time would be filled with laughs and tickles, as Jack would hold Roger up to the ceiling with his feet on his tummy and his arms stretched out holding his little ones in his own. The toddler would stare down into his father's playful eyes with ones of his own; the same frisky ones that he attained from Jack.

Then snack time would be made with yummy but healthy little foods that Jack would get Roger to taste test. Of course sneaking in the occasional ice cream treat for him too. Then of course diaper changes were made for Roger to feel better instead of fussy from the cool air and the full diaper that was swiftly changed into a fresh one.

Bedtime routines were filled with soft voices, gentle laughter, and a sentimental bedtime story and a ardent kiss would be planted to one of Roger's chubby cheeks or forehead. Jack would coo an "I love you," to lift Roger into his dreamworld for the night.

The bonding of father and son didn't end there. Baby Roger would be carried around in his baby carriage for a morning stroll around the block with Jack before he would send himself to work and allow Alice to catch up on her sleep so she could be up and ready for Susan. Jack loved Roger more than anything on this planet and never failed to show or prove that.

Late night cuddles from bad dreams, Kisses for boo boo's on knees, bedside worries for fevers and forbearance for turbulent tantrums. But all was done for love. Love that flourished within the two.

But the pangs were just beginning. Roger.....just didn't feel any uses for it anymore. He wanted more adult treatment, for Jack to loosen the umbilical he tied tightly to each other and wasn't about to let go either. So the eight year old started to rebel. Harder than he ever had before.

The tension of not having the measure of independence he wanted- despite most of it unreasonable- started cracking into an overwhelming gap between the two. To make matters worse, that harder Roger pushed, the more Jack would pull back. It wasn't just a matter of safety that concerned Jack and Alice....but it was also a deep rooted fear Jack had brewing inside of him like a loch ness monster that was waiting to sprew up from the depths of the lake and swallow up as many as possible.

That fear was a vivid nightmare for Jack......losing Roger. Not in a cynical, woebegone image of death, but in a metaphorical scene, drenched in a heartsick, forlorn dismissal of Jack from Roger. Him not needing his father anymore and thus severing ties to him. Just the thought made Jack disturbed. Sure, he knew it would be a selfish and poisonous excuse to use in holding back his child from reaching his full potential, but it just wasn't that simple.

Susan and Roger were his life. And imagining one without them just wasn't possible. He could cope although a bit herculean with Susan growing up. She of course was his little princess and he couldn't see her as anything else, but he still saw the mature young lady she was trying hard to blossom into. Roger on the other hand, didn't help his case. He wasn't as mature and still needed extensive guidance.

Roger saw things differently. He felt Jack didn't wanna believe that he was growing up and was choosing to see him as the little two year old who still wore diapers. He wanted more from the hollow bubble he was in and put more space between his father and started spending more time with his friends. This made Jack suspicious, so he didn't hesitate to question or even spy on Roger a little to see what was going on.

His V.I.P backstage passes were now back row seats with heads bobbing up down; constantly in the way of seeing the full show. Well Jack finally reached a boiling point. This time he decided he would be the one to take Roger and Susan to school. "Oh thank you honey, that would help so much! I have to get the whole shower set up for Margret. She's getting married in two weeks and I need to get a move on if I'm going to get all the decorations she wants."

Jack kissed his pretty wife's temple. "I'll see you when I get home." He grabbed his oak colored suitcase and made a dash for the car only a couple minutes before the kids. Pulling up to the school, Jack's eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

"Alright guys, have a wonderful day at school, I love you both,"

"Love you too daddy!" Susan pecked a kiss to Jack's cheek. "Love you too dad," Roger patted Jack's shoulder and tried for the car door. "Oh, I have some important papers I'm supposed to give to the heads office- a work thing- so.....I'm going to go inside with you."

Roger gave a scunnered eye roll before begrudgingly agreeing. The walk inside was on tenterhooks to say the least. The constant struggle of Jack reaching for Roger's hand and Roger snatching it away, raised tension in Jack, leading him to make a final grab and squeezing it a little so Roger couldn't let go.

"I like holding you hand." Jack said with a fond tone, only for it to be bitterly slapped away with a complete cold shoulder from his son. Upon reaching Roger's locker, Jack stood beside him; gazing at him with soppy eyes. He smiled to himself thinking of Roger's very first day of school. The little boy in a white polo shirt, blue shorts and a red baseball cap.

"Daddy will see you after school champ, he has to go to work. But I promise, after school, I'll be home waiting for you with a big hug and kiss and nice game of catch." A cheeky smile distended across his little face before falling into a hug with Jack's arms reached out. He smooshed his chubby cheek into Jack's puckered lips; smooching his little face all over.

Jack's thoughts disintegrated upon hearing the locker slam of his son. "Bye dad," "Wait, woah....what about your kiss?" An irked Roger only stopped dead in his tracks, becoming furious by the minute hearing the snickering of his classmates. "Raincheck." He gritted through his teeth. How could he be so clueless? Roger picked at his agitated thoughts, like an itchy scab that was trying to heal.

But Jack didn't take no for an answer. He followed Roger into the classroom and kissed his cheek while hugging him tightly. For Jack, it was a nostalgic moment brought back to life of the cherished memories he shared with his son. But Roger......well, if looks could kill, Jack would be 6 feet under and burned by now. Roger's deep umbrage made his soft warm cuddly skin turn cold blooded like a preying snake; ready to sink its teeth into nescient flesh, ready to devour it whole.

"Bye Rogie." Jack whimsically said, before disappearing out the doorway. Roger's stomach turned into this deep rooted knot. His lungs were running out of pressure and the phobia of not being accepted seemed to be coming closer and closer towards him like a fire that slowly burns the trail of rope that it passes.

He took heavy steps to his desk; head hanging low with affront and infamy. Roger seethed with odium at his father. The whole lesson, he wasn't even focused on the judging stares from his classmates. His mind led him to merry-go-round the spite he had for Jack's obsessive fidelity. Of course his overreaction lead to Roger producing scenarios to a diabolicalness movie scene in which a woman holds her lover captive out of 'love' and even kills him because of it!

Granted, Roger's overactive imagination would be the only logical reasoning for such a grim, monstrosity mental picture show to detail something so far fetched that even Roger had to laugh.

But the ferocious feeling of suffocation was nothing to laugh about. Even Jack knew his public display of affection was a bit over the top, but yet that didn't seem to shudder the excuse of closeness with his son away. In fact, everything reminded Jack of little Roger; his little baby picture of him playing on the swings, his first bowl of ice cream and the two little diminutive baby teeth that protruded from the bottom gums that counted as his first ones, were all a simple feeling of utopia that eroded inside of Jack.

"Jack, what are you smiling about?" The man hadn't even noticed his deep dimples were parading. "Oh, nothing...just this baby picture of my son." Frank nodded with a basked smile; body casually relaxed. "Yeah, I'll tell ya....you know my brother's son is already going off to college," The mention of any symbolization of growth make a deep shudder slither through Jack, like a sinister thought had entered his mind. "Yep....he's already picked himself out a girl too. They grow so fast, don't they?"

Jack gave a tight lipped smile before burying his head into the piles of paperwork at his desk.

At home, Roger had arrived only a little after Susan. She was already blabbing about the history test she had and how hard it was, while Roger only gave Susan reserved answers before marching up to his room. Jack had arrived with a huge family sized bucket of chicken from KFC. "I'm home!" He said, almost melodic. It only took him 2 seconds to realize Roger was missing. "I'll get him."

"Hey buddy!" Roger let out a repugnant low hiss in irritation of Jack once forgetting to knock. "Dinner's here, I bought KFC." Roger's head perked up at the sound of that. His stomach growled louder than a lion's roar. "So, what'd you do at school today? Anything fun?" Roger shrugged, "Same." Well that's interesting Jack thought. He invited himself next to Roger, wrapping his arm around him.

"Maybe one of these days, we could catch a game together?" Roger nodded, not breaking his gaze on the floor for one minute to look at Jack. "You know?" Roger only hummed a response; looking up to Jack's eyes finally. But they weren't full of excitement of admiration like they did 5 years ago. Now they were aloof and cavalier only agreeing to end the conversation. Jack panicked internally. So to ease his fear, he walked Roger down to dinner, hand in hand like old times.

Roger silently scoffed at this, unamused with Jack's attempts to bond. The dinner table was filled with happy chatter and comments from Alice, Jack and Susan. Roger kept rigid focus on his meal, only giving varying glances up from his plate and to Alice's eyes; as he was across from her. "So, Roger what's going on with you?" Jack had interrupted Roger's protest of silence.

Roger bit his lip and swallowed the remainder of the dinner that was in his mouth. "Oh, nothing really....I guess the highlight was Makie had secretly taken a ruler from the teacher's desk." Jack sweetly listened intently, not flapping his focus from Roger. He had this fatherly smile pressed tightly on his face. But Roger kept his attention towards Susan and Alice....he would glance at Jack.

Jack grated at this type of rejection. So he would buckle down harder and decided to fancy up a bedtime story for Roger; along with setting his pajamas out for when he emptied out from the shower. "Hey sweetie, ready for a bedtime story?" Roger pursed his lips. "Uh, may-"

"I've got Peter Rabbit, Goldilocks, Harry and the dirty dog..." Roger knowing he couldn't escape this, chose Harry and the dirty dog. Jack felt a sense of satisfaction from Roger giving into his distant act, but yet failed to mollified Roger himself into the same euphoric outlook.

Roger sat sulkingly a couple spaces apart from Jack on the bed in his cloud themed pj's. He barely even looked at the pictures, only looking astray almost with shame and spleen. Anger because of Jack smothering him; forcing him to retort to babyish ways as a pick in keeping him controlled; keeping Jack happy and content.

Mom gives me space, Roger thought, Why can't dad? Jack finished the story, but the charade didn't end there. Roger found himself being lifted into his bed, covers being tucked tightly under his nose and his teddy bear smushed next him. The topper on the cake was Jack's puckering lips being rammed into Roger's cheek; forcing the screeching whistle and loving hum of a kiss being planted to evaporate through Roger's blushing face.

Jack's lips were finally sucked off his boy's face and coupled with a cooing of: "Sleep tight teddy bear, I love you." Roger's face was soiled in a tight frown; eyebrows pinched in a deep dour. Roger ejected himself upright and aggressively wiped his cheek or any residue of Jack's love. He growled and turned over with a brewing bitterness, groveling around inside of him; ready to spew out like a jack in the box.

The anger only grew as Jack would be up at the school, delivering Roger's teddy bear hat because he "might catch a cold." Or making him hold hands with him while crossing the street and not letting him watch the new monster movie that had come out. The icing on the cake was when Roger caught Jack listening in on a phone call with Simon.

"I was just worried." Was his excuse. But it blew up into a huge disagreement leading Roger to call Jack "a possessive, overprotective busybody," and Jack hustling out a stern: "Don't speak to me like that young man!" Followed by: "I have a right to know what's going on and it's hard for me to trust you when you don't let me in."

It went back and forth like that until Roger stormed upstairs and slammed his bedroom door and Jack pounded his fist on the kitchen counter. Both of the Chambers men had irascible temperaments at crotchety times. Except, Jack's was a protective papa bear mixed with angst of just simply wanting his little boy back, while Roger's was of an angst pubescent who just wanted a bite of the outside world beyond the caves of his family.

In the morning, Roger darted out of the house at a premature hour and strolled to school with a somber tone to his stride. The damp sky allied with Roger's murky attitude; his hands in his pockets, slumped over lazily and looking at the ground in a rebellion to watching what was in front of him.

Which is what sent him bumping into Mila Murphey. "Watch it Roger!" Roger blinked, taken aback by her stern face. "Sorry." He trailed off before continuing to his locker. "Roger!" Susan hot on his tail came running up to him. "What's wrong?" He shrugged, "What do you mean?"

"You skipped breakfast this morning and left for school super early! You hate school, why would you do that?" "Look Susan, I just have a lot on my plate right now okay?"

Susan shook her head before diverting her eyes towards the ground. "You know....I can talk to dad if you wan-" "No! I mean...." Roger continued, "Just let me handle it. It's obvious dad's not backing down from this so I will fight this. Don't worry about it okay?" Susan felt this unnerving pinch in her gut. "Okay...." Her voice drifted.

Roger started away from his locker. "Roger wait!" He turned. "Before you go.....just know that.....mom and dad love us both very much...they're worried about you."

Suddenly the collar around Roger's shirt felt tight. Those words sunk in more than they should've. It wasn't until the middle of class when Roger realized he had belched from the house so fast that he had forgotten his lunch. He dug through the pockets of his jeans for any money for lunch. None. Oh well, there was always his backpack.

In fact, Roger didn't even feel that hungry anyway. His stomach was in such a tight knot that it would be for the best to not challenge it.

Meanwhile at the office, Jack's hair was practically falling out. His fingers ran through his hair so hard, that little strands would come out one by one out onto his desk. Jack's eyes went from the project papers laid out on his desk, to the family photo that neighbored beside it and finally to the clock on his office wall.

Why didn't Roger stay for breakfast? He doesn't have his lunch with him...is he being bullied? These were all thoughts that raced through Jack's mind like bullets in a race. But his mind was made up...on his lunch break, Jack would bring Roger his lunch. He couldn't conjure the idea of Roger sitting with nothing to eat in the lunchroom.

Jack thought back to when he was a little boy and he had made the same mistake. His father didn't even bother. "Well I guess you'll learn not to waste food now boy?"

Jack swallowed harshly recalling the lecture his father rammed into him based off a notion of a silly innocent human nature mistake. It took years for Jack to realize his father was just bitter. But as a father now, he couldn't even dream of saying such a thing to his children. Especially when they're starving.

But despite the well meaning intentions, the earlier gray sky, now had become one of cloudburst. Rain pricked the ground mercilessly making it impossible for Jack to do any food delivery. So Roger sat alone, nibbling off a half eaten granola bar in his backpack. Well, he turned back to his early ponder of not being hungry anyway.

Roger glanced over to Bryce Macmillan and his friends. A mixture of euphoria over the dream of adulthood and dread from the resistance of his father made Roger's stomach quack. The emotions were too much to handle as he was pressed face to face with the wrestle of breaking free from the smothering of Jack. He was underwater, unable to breathe in and out to ease the pressure of no oxygen.

The stress.....it all sent the boy into a bellyaching spiral. Claustrophobia set in and the walls became narrow and thick. The laughter of his classmates shot louder and louder.....then there was Jack.....standing on one end of the gym with a baby book and a sippy cup of warm milk and on the other stood and ferocious beast; fangs dripping to his chin, eyes harboring a savage stare, chest puffed ready to attack. It held the fear of falling fast, deep into the pangs of maturity: going out late, dating, driving, middle school, high school, being exposed to all the things he had been taught to avoid.

And then the floor disappeared; a big hole opening up, about to swallow Roger whole with only a tightrope choice of choosing Jack's hand back into baby land, or the beasts forward into a whole new world of becoming an adult.

The hole threw Roger in before he could make any decision and suffocated him to his demise. Blackness.

He banged on the invisible glass, screaming, begging for help. But no one could hear him....no one could see him....no one could help him. Bubble gurgled of Roger's breath being cut short and then sinking deeper and deeper with no one....Susan, Alice, Jack.....all gone.

And so was Roger. He was suffocated by the monster of his battles.

A loud sharp gasp shook his whole dream.

Roger woke up to the ground. He had fallen over in the middle of his egregious fantasy. Roger rubbed his head before getting back up and following his classmates back to class.

The walk home consisted of Roger holding his backpack over his head from the downpour. The rain pecked at his skin like a glass rain was taking it's revenge against the bitter heat of city. Roger's tummy growled incensed the longer his slow steps took one after another with each other. Upon arrival, Roger's eyes zeroed in on neither of the cars being in the driveway.

It snapped in his head that Alice had probably driven to school to pick them up so they wouldn't have to brave the cold winds of the storm. It had to have been 20 minutes until Roger's legs went numb and his fingers damp and sore from holding the backpack for so long, until the sight of Jack and Alice's cars pulled into the driveway.

Roger's stomach turned as he knew how angry they'd be seeing him stand there by himself. But...he didn't eat lunch, so surely his mind wasn't right from that. "I just got home." He blurted out. But of course, that didn't stop Jack from running out of the car and wrapping his suit jacket around him. Once the door was unlocked, Roger was ordered a hot shower and dry clothes.

Roger was surprised with his family's calm reaction to such a careless, foolish choice.

"I'm worried about Roger...." Alice helped Susan's jacket off. Jack nodded, "I don't know what's gotten into him, but I'm gonna find out." Susan let out a small sigh. She knew how hard of a time her brother was having with the whole 'growing up' thing and much it knocked him down in the dumps because of Jack's silent protests to it. But Susan knew well enough that it was just his way of keeping Roger close to him and not losing him to insubordinate friends or a charming crush.

Roger getting out of the shower gave Susan to march upstairs and set her brother straight. "Roger, we need to talk....at least before dad gets to you."

He scoffed putting his shirt on. "About what? And what do you mean before dad gets to me?" "I mean that dad wants to know why you've been so distant. You're not talking or being sociable...you're not like yourself Roger and even I'm getting worried."

Roger took a deep sigh, "It's dad...he won't stop treating me like a baby! Mom accepts that I'm growing up, but dad doesn't! It's a tug-of-war between getting him to accept that and....." Susan listened intently, "Or getting some of the older kids approval. I'm not basing my entire reason of being grown up on that, but it's embarrassing when you still have to hold your dad's hand everytime you cross a street at times," Roger continued.

"All I want is to be treated my age for once and I'm utterly sick and tired of dad refusing to do that! He won't let me be capable of anything and any little mistake I make, he uses that as ploy to add to his masterplan of making me his baby forever!" Roger sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands.

"Well, I can understand that Roger.....but I can also see dad's perspective," Roger looked up, "How?"

"Well.......you are his baby though Roger. I mean it's hard for anyone who's changed your diapers or fed you or wiped your face when you were younger to just see you as this adult overnight. And I think in some ways you're expecting that to happen." Roger scoffed.

"Roger, dad has put eight years and counting of love into you. He's always been by your side and seeing you reject him like that of course isn't gonna sit well with him-"

"Who said anything about rejecting him?!" Susan gave Roger a look. "You don't have to say it, you kinda just show it when you give him the cold shoulder or just flat out ignore him."

"Look, I know dad may have his ups and downs with this, but I can't help it if he feels insulted or takes my need for independence as a threat! He acts like I'm holding a gun to his head!"

"Roger, dad's not trying to be controlling. He was the same way with me, but....once he saw that I still loved him and that didn't change then he became more casual with it."

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. "Susan, I'd like to talk to Roger alone please." Susan excused herself and now once again Roger and Jack were forced to talk. "Hey," Roger gave a nod.

"Roger, I know that sometimes we face challenges in life that make us tighten up...for example, bullies. They can make anyone feel scared. And I just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything......although I do have one question...who's Jennifer?"

Roger's gut grabbed ahold of his throat. "What? Jennifer?" "Is she a girl you like?" Roger's eyes blazed fire inside. He's never told anyone about a Jennifer.....only his journal.

That was it. Roger's vivid green eyes became ones of dilated fury. "Tell you anything?! You'll just go through my journal anyway! What next, bug my bedroom with some stupid baby monitor?!"

Jack blinked in shock at the sudden change in his son's demeanor. "Don't talk to me like that Roger, and definitely don't yell at me,"

"What about the way you invade my personal space? No one's obligated to do anything that extreme in the name of 'love' if that's what you're going to say," Roger hissed. "Okay, first off Roger, I do those things from genuine love. I love you and love spending time with you and talking....I want my little boy back,"

"I'm not your little boy anymore!" Roger said, through gritted teeth, "I've got my own life now, and friends and interests rather than reading Peter Rabbit or suckling down warm milk with cookies and having their 'boo-boo's' kissed or their cheeks pinched. I don't need my hand held with this super cheesy grin and these nostalgic memories of baby Roger doing this, baby Roger doing that...God, I can't stand that! You treat me like a baby and....I can't take it anymore!"

"Well I don't like my own son treating me like I'm nothing more but a nuisance in his life! I can't stand it when you ignore me, dismiss me or just plain old strategize to get away from me! And I know this has to be coming from those friends of yours and that girl too! Why else?!" Jack said that last part out loud to himself.

"See, right there! You can't stand the thought of me growing up so you blame everyone like I'm on this downfall when really it's you losing control dad! You're insulated at my having my own life and cutting off the dependence from you!"

"Roger," Jack warned. "Stop it!"

"It's my life! And you can't take that away from me!" Jack frowned even harder, "I never was!"

"You just say that but real-"

"I'M INSULATED WHEN YOU CUT ME OUT OF IT! NO ROGER IT'S NOT EASY FOR ME TO ACCEPT! AND DO YOU KNOW WHY? IT'S BECAUSE THE MORE WORLD YOU EXPLORE, THE MORE I DISAPPEAR! HOW CAN YOU GIVE UP SOMEONE YOU LOVE WITH YOUR WHOLE HEART AND SOUL?!" Jack put his hands over his mouth in utter disgust with himself for screaming at the top of his lungs at his own child.

But Roger still kept a rigid frown on his face, but not one of anger....more of concern and aghast. "Wow." He said silently. "I-I'm sorry Roger....I shouldn't have lost my temper."

Roger looked down, "Me neither......I love you too though." Jack rubbed his eyes, "Thank you."

"You won't disappear.....I mean....I'll probably still need you." Roger's lungs became heavy.....the floor became watery and the walls thick and small again. Jack looked sadly into his son's eyes. One minute, those eyes were filled with anger and frustration to how to express such a deep rooted sorrow in a way for Roger to understand.

The walls kept closing in, and the feeling of suffocation and rising waters hit Roger again...it was now or never. The beast and his father were now all waiting for his culminating decision.

"I don't really wanna grow up that fast," The waters still kept getting higher and higher..."I-I want to be treated my age...." Roger was drowning again, the beast swimming after him....claws ready to attack....

"I'm more angry at growing up then I am with you dad. And I'm sorry for being so stupid about it! I love all those things you do for me and I........I could never leave you behind. I love you too much to do that." The waters started receding. The beast now evaporating. Roger's eyes filled with tears that had now dripped onto the floor. The high expectations Roger threw on himself were just out of fear, but not a genuine want. He needed Jack more than ever during this time.

Jack threw his arms around Roger for a tight hug. "I know, I know," He cooed. "I felt that way too. But I promise....it gets better. And I'll give you your space....I'm sorry I read your journal and listened in on your conversations on the phone."

"It's alright dad. I overreacted." Jack kissed Roger's forehead. "Can I still kiss you?" Roger smiled and nodded. The two shared a long hug. "How about we get some food into that tummy of your's?"

The thought of food sent Roger rushing downstairs for a sandwich. He hadn't eaten all day. Jack smiled to himself before walking after Roger. The thought of Roger growing up didn't seem so tense anymore....out of anything, Jack was ready for it. And so was Roger.

*This one was soooooo good because it really highlighted the inner demons that both Jack and Roger faced.*

[shieldkeeper]

Writing Prompt: On Cloud Nine Word Count: 1097 ---> masterlist

Ever since birth, it was told by many a chirurgeon that young Duduni would not have so easy a life. Born with a frail body that was apt with sickness the older she would get. There were many things she was told that would be impossible for her growing up.

She couldn’t play rough like the other kids.

She couldn’t go outside as much as the usual person.

She’d have trouble keeping up with other children her age and fall behind.

Her body not be capable of bearing children without high risk.

There was a high chance she would die young.

All news and predictions that worried her parents for years on end. Duduni was their miracle child after all. With one too many failures at having more children in their lives, miscarriages, stillbirths… it was indeed a miracle when at last they had a babe to call their own. A precious little life they’d spoil and protect at all costs, go at great lengths to find the medical attention she’d need to grow hale and whole.

But Duduni was a headstrong gal who always pushed her limits. Always risking herself to live life to the fullest despite their warnings and worries. Even if that meant she’d find herself bedbound at times from pushing herself too hard. Even if that meant suffering from no other’s fault but her own.

She pushed on. Ever proud of whatsoever little thing she may accomplish. With no worry for what way she might one day lose her life. Whether it be to sickness or her body failing her, she was adamant to prove all wrong as she thrived.

Fate would have it her beliefs would thus be tried upon island invaders paying visit to their lands. A vessel full of pirates looking to plunder and run off with whatever treasures they could find.

When they first approached the docks and made clear their demands before they’d unload, it was Duduni who strode before all else. A single frail woman who stood up to their parked vessel and demanded they disembark, for they’d find nothing of worth on their small islands. Splaying out her arms and ready take whatever they might throw at her.

The pirate’s captain found themselves intrigued by the young lass. Decidedly sparing the island of their ransacking and in return, she would join them on their vessel. Though her parents and other island natives begged her to stand down, Duduni agreed to the proposal.

Trading her life for the peace of her people was worth every step she took as she walked willingly upon their ilk.

“Tell me your name, brave lass.” The captain demanded of her once the ship had begun to sail.

“Duduni.” She smiled as though in triumph. That they knew not the fool’s bargain they’d made for a girl who’s life was destined not to live for very long.

Though he knew not where her bravery came from, he answered in turn with a snarky grin of his own. “Duduni then. Prepare yourself lass, for you’ll find yourself busy on Captain Yavin’s decks.”

Despite the rough beginnings… she had been welcomed as one of the crew surprisingly. Captain’s orders. As luck would have it… the more the man spoke with Duduni and found himself in her company, the more smitten he found himself with her. As she described her life, her homeland, her very small world up until this point and the prospect that she might never know what were past those rolling waves until now.

It didn’t take long for the Captain to realize the sort of lass he’d bargained Duduni for. Nor did he suspect his captivation for her when he was able to take her places she could only imagine in the pages of worn books. Of the great city state of Vylbrand and the availability of wares and the like unknown to her and her people.

With a bit of digging around and checking with prospective chirurgeons of repute, Yavin saw it fit to have Duduni’s health checked by professionals. For she’d fought against enough odds against her that there might truly be a better prospect for her than once considered.

There was no cure for her weak and frail body, but there was a type of medicine that would prolong her life. One of great expense. Not something that could be so easily paid for by one person who was unable to work for long.

That’s when her life changed in inexplicable ways. Captain Yavin took care of the costs and then some because she was part of his crew now. Plenty of treasure and coin to his name that this was nothing more than a drop in the bucket to him.

And it continued this way. Of him caring for Duduni. Putting her above all else. Slowly but surely the days of piracy leaving him behind and his crew with it. No longer to be the most fearsome scourge of the seas—but a man ready to settle down and have a life with this one lass who’d captured his heart.

One might see it as a sad blow to his career, to throw it all away for one single woman. But that one woman brought him back to her home. Helped him settle into southern seas living with her, having a home together, making love with one another and cherishing such loving memories as they lived their years together.

Beyond all other odds and thanks to the medication keeping her steady, Duduni was able to accomplish the dream she wished for most in her life: To be with child. To give birth to her own blood and kin. To have as many children as the Twelve saw fit to give her. For there was nothing more to her in life than having a family of her own and leaving a spark of herself behind for when that inevitable day would come.

Duduni lived an incredibly happy life. With all the ups and downs it came with, but never letting her weakness keep her from achieving all that she desired. Many thought she’d never live for as long as she did.

But she made it.

Not long enough to see all her children grown and with family of their own, but enough to see that they were thriving and in good hands. Where she needn’t worry when she finally passed, surrounded by family and husband, the love of her life. Who she would patiently wait for once he too had his fill of adventures till his last breath.

[londondziban]

heeey if you’re still taking microfic prompts maybe cozy/domestic wolfstar cuddling and maybe recovering from the flu (either sirius or remus)

- @effiepotterisamilf (my marauders account)

Hi friend! Sorry it took me a bit to respond to your prompt! This was a fun one to write. It ended up being a little longer than intended but I hope you enjoy it :) Thank you for the prompt!

For anyone else who gave me prompts, I promise I'll get to them!

Peppermint

Established Wolfstar ft. mentions of established Jegulus & Rosekiller. 1,103 words. Posted over on ao3 as well! Or, Remus Lupin gets sick again.

Remus Lupin hates being sick.

He gets it, alright? He knows everyone hates being sick. No one enjoys being in poor health for days to weeks at a time. He’s well aware he isn’t alone in his grievances.

However, Remus swears he’s almost always sick.

He’s not over-exaggerating. Every season may as well be sick season because every month, without fail, he gets sick. Sometimes it’s just a slight cold that leaves him exhausted and a little miserable in his classes for a couple of days. Other times it’ll hit him so hard he can’t even leave bed for at least a week; it’s honestly a bit of a gamble to see how it’ll go each time.

Unfortunately, his mates took notice of this particular pattern years ago. He’s sick so often that James and Peter are constantly betting on how long it’ll take for Remus to get sick again after each cold. 

Remus wants to hate them for it but well…

The moment Remus caught wind that a flu bug had started to make its rounds in Ravenclaw, he knew he was doomed. 

At first, he simply accepted his fate and didn’t even try to avoid it. He knew it wouldn’t be worth it to attempt to prevent himself from falling ill; he just wanted to rip off the metaphorical bandaid. 

To no one’s surprise, Remus ended up being the first Gryffindor to catch it–two days after he found out about the aforementioned sickness, actually. 

He was miserable. It’s less common for him to be so sick that he has to miss class, but it hit him hard this time. Even with his doting mates–and even more doting boyfriend–caring for him, he couldn’t help but wish ill will on Pandora for being patient zero.

However, he got over it in just four days–a surprisingly quick recovery after how sick he had been. He came out of it quite exhausted, but he was able to be back to class–and back to being friendly with the previously mentioned Ravenclaw–in no time.

Well, until this morning, that is.

“How can I be sick again? I quite literally just got done being sick,” Remus grumbles from his bed.

“Five days,” Peter snickers from his corner of the room. “You went five days without being sick. That has got to be a new record.”

Remus groans, burying his too-sweaty face into his too-warm pillow. He honestly feels as if he’s been locked in a sauna; why is their dorm so hot?

“It’s a little impressive if I’m honest,” Peter adds, unhelpfully in Remus’ opinion. “Leave it to you to catch ill not once, but twice, in less than two weeks.”

“Oi, don’t be a prick,” Sirius says, pushing his way back into their room. Remus lifts his head at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, smiling despite it all as his eyes land on familiar raven hair and bright grey eyes. “No teasing my Moons when he’s sick.”

Peter snorts, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “No James?” Peter asks instead, wisely opting to drop the topic.

Sirius sighs. “Nah, Reggie’s sick now too. Caught it from Barty, most likely. James practically sprinted off to help Evan care for them.” 

“Crouch is still sick?” Peter asks, his tone clearly horrified at the thought–which is fair. Barty has been sick going on ten days now if Remus is keeping track right. Pandora got Evan sick almost immediately, which naturally led to Barty catching it, too. However, when Evan and Pandora recovered after a couple of days, Barty had gotten worse. 

“Oh yeah, poor bloke is miserable,” Sirius grimaces, crossing the room to Remus’ bed and sitting carefully on the edge of it. “Evan looks just as rough, though.”

“I don’t envy him,” Peter agrees, chuckling a little. “He’s stuck caring for one of the most dramatic gits I know.”

Remus snorts weakly. “I’d be more worried for James. Regulus is awful when he’s sick.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sirius teases softly, poking at him–or more so the lump of him currently curled up under his blanket. 

“I thought no one is allowed to tease me,” Remus retorts, though it falls flat as it comes out as more of a weak croak.

“No one is allowed to tease you,” Sirius agrees, his face solemn as he nods along, “but I do. Boyfriend privileges, obviously.”

Remus’ responding laugh quickly dissolves into harsh coughing, his entire body racked with tremors as he scrambles to even his breathing back out to something less painful. 

“Oh Moony,” Sirius sighs, sounding pained as if he’s the one experiencing the illness as well. “Let’s sit you up, yeah?”

Remus would’ve resisted, naturally, if it weren’t for the second coughing fit hitting him as he opened his mouth. A dull thunk against wood is all Remus hears before Sirius leans forward to help him ease up, propping him up against his pillows and rubbing his back through the fit with a sad grimace twisting his features.

Once Remus’ breathing has evened out again, he reaches out to press his finger against the furrow between his boyfriend's brows. “Stop that, would you? I’m not dying, Sirius.”

Sirius smoothes his features back out into a soft smile. His eyes crinkle with so much more fondness than Remus even knows what to do with. “I know I know. I just hate seeing you sick.” 

He turns away from him then, withdrawing his hand from his back and reaching towards Remus’ bedside table. “I brought you tea, Moons. Evans is hoarding all of the lemon tea for Mary, but I was able to swipe some Peppermint for you.”

“Peppermint?” Remus asks. He sits up straighter and eyes the mug in his boyfriend's hands–how had he completely missed it when Sirius came in? “With–”

“A spoonful of honey and two sugar?” Sirius finishes for him, handing over the cuppa and grinning brightly at him. “Reggie would be horrified if he knew you add both honey and sugar to your tea, you know.”

“Regulus’ lack of sweet tooth is appalling,” Remus sniffs defiantly, taking a slow sip from his mug.

Sirius just snorts and moves to climb into bed with Remus. He curls up into his side and rests his head gently against Remus’ chest, throwing an arm lazily over him.

“You’re going to get sick,” Remus weakly scolds him even as he feels himself melt in his boyfriend’s arms.

“That’s alright,” Sirius grins, snuggling even closer. “We can just be miserable together, then.”

Remus Lupin hates being sick, but Sirius Black never fails to make it a little more tolerable for him.

[yeehawbvby]

Am I ~seducing~ you? | Ch. 1*

(Piers x OC Maxine)

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: "Piers stopped in his tracks as he watched his friend smile at him while propping herself onto her elbows, and then drop that smile and widen her eyes as they raked up and down his body. 

Oh, does it look bad? he worried to himself.

Then, he noticed Max’s face grow pink. Her ears and what little of her neck he could see followed as her cheeks turned a deep red he wasn’t sure he’d seen on them before.

…That must be a good thing then, yeah? Probably?"

Author's Note: Wowee, what a surprise, another romantically and sexually tense MinMaxShip fic!! (said no one ever)

I had way too much fun writing this. I’ve been dealing with tons of health issues lately, which has made writing kinda hard, but it’s fun being able to whip up silly one-shots here and there when I can.

Hope y’all enjoy x

Check it out on ao3!

Next

With battling being so ingrained into Galar’s culture, it was common for the region’s gym leaders to keep their stadiums open on holidays. Why would passionate trainers sit at home with their friends and families on, let’s say Christmas Eve for example, when they could go take on gym leaders as a group activity instead? 

Piers, preferring to do his own thing, would pick and choose which holidays to keep the Dark venue open. He’d take it year-by-year, seeing how he was faring the week of the occasion, and would advertise a celebratory event only if he felt like it’d be worth it. Oftentimes he’d forgo battling entirely, putting on a show instead; but regardless of what he decided on, he never failed to sell the venue out.

The amount of people who showed up proved to be far too overwhelming for Max, so she simply didn’t work holidays. She’d had one incident in her early days as a gym trainer where she tried to push past her immense discomfort and be there for a New Year’s event, only to have to hide away backstage due to a panic attack. It was for the best that she just stayed home. 

She didn’t mind it, despite how isolating it could be. If anything, she found comfort in how quiet their apartment building would become with so many people at one gym or another. 

This day in particular was Halloween, and Piers was readying himself for a concert. He’d always encouraged everyone — his staff included — to show up in costume. The practice kept employee morale higher, attracted more attention from fans and trainers alike, and honestly, Piers just found it fun. The idea of being able to dress any way he wanted to once a year excited him. It made him feel less self conscious when he wanted to experiment with wearing dresses, or different types of makeup, or whatever, because if he was met with criticism he could just blame it on the holiday.

Piers had his fair share of silly costumes, such as pokemon kigurumis or maid outfits. He’d never been the type to use Halloween as an excuse to look sexy like so many people do.

For some reason, he felt bold enough to change that this year.

He was a little self conscious as he inspected his incubus getup in the mirror. His high ponytail was complemented by a headband with two black horns, which held his fringe away from his face; he swapped his black eyeshadow for a deep burgundy, creating a smokey look in unison with his smudged black eyeliner; and he toyed with some faux fangs, ultimately deciding to wear them at least until he got on stage.

His usual pendant adorned his neck, and below it, his torso was practically bare. He had on a black, long-sleeved, mock-neck shirt, but the fabric ended in an upside-down v-shape just above his chest. 

Raihan, being a master of the craft of Looking Slutty, suggested Piers spice it up with some fake tattoos somewhere on his lower torso. He reluctantly did just that, drawing a small black wing with some eyeliner between each hip bone, slightly below his navel. He thought it would be too much but wound up liking it, especially preferring it over sporting a set of wearing fake wings.

He wore tight, black, leather pants, and would slip on some high-heeled leather boots on his way out, as usual. Today, though, he added a whale tail with a burgundy thong beneath it all — a little accent to complement his eyeshadow — and a black leather garter on his upper left thigh.

It wasn’t out of character for Piers to be completely shirtless at some points during his shows just due to sweat, but something about today felt so much more scandalous than usual. Maybe it was the attention he drew to his hips, or maybe it was the fact that he was arriving at the venue already practically topless. Who could say?

He wanted a second opinion on the outfit. Most of Piers’ buddies were gym leaders and busy prepping for their own celebrations, though, so Piers didn’t want to bother any of them.

That only left… Max and Marnie, he supposed. And there was no way in hell he was showing his little sister this outfit.

He sighed, dragging his feet on the short walk between rooms. The star felt a bit nervous presenting himself to Max so scantily clad. She’d seen him topless, but like he’d been thinking, this felt different.  

He stood outside Max’s room and asked, “Oi, you decent?” through the door.

“Yup.”

She was hanging out on her bed. She laid belly-down, her head towards the foot of the mattress and her arms slightly dangling off, with her DS in hand. Not having Halloween plans herself, but wanting to do something, she opted to just wear a fuzzy white cat ear headband with her otherwise unfestive black hoodie and light pink joggers. 

She was in the middle of something, so when Piers entered, she hadn’t looked up. She did greet him, though. 

“What’s up?”

“Need your opinion on my costume.”

“‘Kay, ooone sec,” she murmured. 

Piers admired how Max’s brows furrowed when she was feeling determined. He grinned when he noticed her headband, too. Cute.

He huffed out a near-silent laugh in tandem when Max’s misdreavus made itself visible and floated over to Piers, greeting him with its own set of cat ears equipped. 

He patted its head between the accessory. “Hey, missy.”

It chirped happily before leaving the room to hang out somewhere else in the apartment. Probably the couch, he assumed. That fella really loved a good sofa… or any sofa for that matter. Theirs was pretty beaten up.

Piers shut the door behind the creature. Curious as to what Max was doing while he waited, he was about to make his way towards her with the intention to watch over her shoulder; but right when he took his first step, Max closed the device with a triumphant huff and looked towards him.

Piers stopped in his tracks as he watched his friend smile at him while propping herself onto her elbows, and then drop that smile and widen her eyes as they raked up and down his body. 

Oh, does it look bad? he worried to himself.

Then, he noticed Max’s face grow pink. Her ears and what little of her neck he could see followed as her cheeks turned a deep red he wasn’t sure he’d seen on them before.

…That must be a good thing then, yeah? Probably?

“Erm.” She cleared her throat, fixing the heightened pitch of her voice — which was already pretty high-pitched, normally — before averting her eyes. After a beat she shyly met Piers’. Her gaze started to lower, as if on its own volition, but she rapidly snapped it back up to his face.

…Definitely, Piers concluded.

He flustered her.

This wasn’t one of those common instances where someone did something sweet or embarrassing to her, or where she did something sweet or embarrassing.

He put her in this state purely by looking the way he did.

And that felt fucking incredible to him.

Initially the realization had made him giddy. Then, as he registered that it could be absurdly fun to tease her about this — to tease her right now — his smile widened into something more mischievous. 

Max’s following compliment came out strained. She was fighting for her life to make herself look unaffected. 

(She was failing.)

“Looks good!”

Piers’ brows raised slightly as he flashed his fangs. “Y’think so?” 

“Ye— oooh,” she cut herself off with a whisper, noticing the prosthetics. She could practically feel herself short-circuiting as she tried to figure out what to say. Please stop staring at his teeth, please be normal about this, she begged herself before settling on, “Can you sing in those?”

“Eh…”

Piers looked up a little, tilting his head to either side while he weighed out whether it would be doable or not. While doing so, he began fidgeting the tip of his tongue against one of his pointed teeth. The simple movements of his mouth made Max gulp.

“Probably, but I might take ‘em out anyway.” 

“Hm.” Max slowly nodded, diverting her attention to the floorboards. She crossed her outstretched legs behind her, too. Something about shutting her thighs eased the tension growing between them.

Her overall reaction was all he needed to be way more confident in his attire. Cocky, even, just because it was Max. He cared more about her opinions of him than most other people’s. So, while she seemed to zone out, Piers quietly approached her bed, leaning his palms down onto the corner of it.

He wanted her attention. Wanted to see how many of her buttons he could push like this. He’d accepted his infatuation towards her by now, and to take advantage of the moment to see what kinds of reactions he could pull from her fueled his desires even further.

It made him feel a bit perverted, in a way. 

Was it perverted?

Whatever, it didn’t matter. It’s not like he was hurting her by having a little fun. He knew she’d speak up if he made her uncomfortable at any point. There was very little risk in messing around, and a high reward to be had.

Timidly, Max side-eyed Piers’ exposed form, bringing the collar of her hoodie to her chin — a makeshift hiding spot — before letting her head fully turn. Her heart stuttered at the intense look in Piers’ eyes. He was amused, clearly, given the faint smile that played on his lips while he gnawed the lower one, only one of his fangs visible; but more than that, he watched over her like a predator would its prey. 

He asked lowly, “You like it, then?”

God, yes— “Mhm,” Max nodded.

Piers noted the slight quiver in her breath, and swelling with pride, he continued, “How much?”

As the words came out, he gravitated to the foot of Max’s bed, slowly sinking onto his knees to meet her at eye level, no more than a foot away.

“Oh, um…”

Max looked down in an attempt to escape eye contact, only to realize she was openly staring at his torso. She honed in on his decorated hips for a short moment before blinking a few times, as if to wipe away her racing thoughts. She plastered her view onto his right arm.

“I… I don’t know.” She dropped her hold on her hoodie, then answered, “It’s a good look on you,” pulling a small section of hair over her shoulder to fidget with. As she twirled the brown and pink strands between her fingers, Piers noticed that her feet were kicking in place the slightest little bit.

“You sure? Seems like ya can’t even look at me while you say it,” he teased, lifting Max’s chin with his pointer and middle finger. 

She wanted to fucking die. To vanish from thin air and not have to deal with how pretty he was. How sexy he was. 

But there was no escape.

She could tell from his constant ghost of a smirk that he knew exactly what he was doing. Whether he simply enjoyed toying with her, or he knew he was absolutely melting her, she had no clue — whichever it was, though, it turned her on more than she could possibly begin to comprehend. 

Piers egged her on, her eyes widening a little as he leaned in closer, “I mean, I can tell you with full confidence that you make an adorable kitten.” He gestured his head towards her ears. 

Arc’s sake, please shut up, Max wanted to scold him, her heart threatening to beat its way out of her body. She wanted to close what little of a gap there was between them. To pounce on him. For him to do the same. Anything.  

“Well… I do mean it,” she answered once she was able to compose herself. “I’m just a little embarrassed, I guess,” Max admitted, with a breathy, nervous waver lingering in her voice.

Piers leaned forward again. “Why’s that?”

Max’s eyes flickered between Piers’ darkened eyes and his lips. “Don’t— erm, don’t you have to leave?”

He shook his head slightly. “I have plenty of time to grill ya if I want to.” His mouth formed into a toothy, meowth-like smile.

“Damn it,” she quietly laughed, looking down, now that Piers’ hold on her had slackened.

He promptly stole her back, tugging her view to his once more while he laughed with her. He thought she had such a pretty smile — especially when her face was so rosy. 

“Y’know, if I didn’t know any better…” he began to speculate as he nearly closed their gap. Their noses were just a few centimeters apart. Max seemed to be in a trance, her eyes following his mouth’s every move while it drew nearer. “I’d say it looks like you want me to kiss you or somethin’.”

Max’s eyes shot up to his while she nervously chewed the inside of her lip between her canines. She looked hopeful. Pleading. Desperate.  

Confident facade aside, Piers felt similarly. 

“…Do you want me to kiss you, Max?” Piers whispered. Despite the softness in its volume, his voice had an almost dangerous tone to it. 

It made Max gasp. She was putty in his hands.

Piers felt himself twitch in his pants at her barely-audible reaction. He wondered when else she’d ever make faces like these, when else she’d sigh such wistful little breaths. Simultaneously, she’d been wondering if this is the sort of demeanor he’d have in bed.

Unable to resist but feeling shy, she nodded the slightest bit. The motion would’ve been unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it.

Piers was on her before she could even register that he’d obliged, eagerly holding her face and smashing his lips against hers. Her surprise manifested in a whimper and filled her with embarrassment while it drove Piers mad with lust.

Max rested a hand atop one of his while she struggled to pull herself up into a kneel. Her legs felt like jelly beneath her as she maneuvered herself to be sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs dangling on either side of Piers as she draped her arms around his neck. She rested one palm against the back of his head while the other gripped the fabric covering his opposite shoulder. 

Max wondered, as their lips and tongues ebbed and flowed, how such a simple costume could have made her so goddamn needy… and why did it seem to have the same effect on him? 

While Max was lost in thought and inebriated by Piers’ kisses, the man stood up, leaned his right palm onto the bed, and weaved his left fingers beneath Max’s loose mane to cup her nape. 

He encouraged her to lay back with nothing but the force of his lips, letting her decide whether or not to invite him closer. She subconsciously tightened her thighs against his hips as she complied, her body willing his to meet hers on its own volition; enticing his core towards hers as he hovered above her, his ponytail tickling her cheek and his breaths fanning her face each time their mouths unclasped. 

Max, knowing Piers could recreate his ponytail in an instant if he wanted to, tangled her fingers through the taught hair. She gripped onto it for dear life and leaned upward as if it would allow her to taste more of him, sighing into his mouth as he used his lips to pin her back down. 

Piers smiled against her, noting that she seemed to really like when he took control. It reminded him of a move he busted out during their first kiss, so he decided to recreate it. A little commemoration of sorts. He drifted his thumb to Max’s chin and — without warning, unlike last time — pulled her mouth open and held it there, leaving her powerless in terms of how long their tongues would be knotted together. 

Just like the first time, Max accidentally whined into his mouth. Just like the first time, Piers breathed out a laugh through his nose. He didn’t halt their connection this time, though, favoring twirling his tongue around hers over the prospect of teasing her. He did hum to express his satisfaction though.

If he heard correctly, Max whimpered again at his reaction, albeit near silently.

And he did hear correctly, but not for the reason he’d thought. Max definitely responded positively to his humming, but she was more so focused on the way he just took the reins and seemed to really enjoy it. She did too. Being teased, being bossed around a bit. Being at his will. All of it made her feel restless.

Max arched her back a little to be closer to Piers.

Piers gripped the curve of her hip and squeezed, firmly pressing his pelvis between her opened legs in tandem.

Max desperately tugged at Piers’ hair with one hand to pull him closer, and gently caressed his cheek with the other.

Piers bit Max’s lip, forgetting he had fangs equipped, and drew a little blood—

Oh. 

He pulled away and brought his hand to her cheek while he made sure she was okay.

She nodded. She kinda liked the pain. She didn’t tell him, but something about the hungry glint in her eye gave it away.

…Oooh!

Piers, with a smirk that met his eyes more than his lips, licked the blood away before stealing another open-mouthed kiss, and it was literally the hottest thing that had ever happened to Max.

This only lasted a few moments longer, both of them mourning the loss of each other’s lips the second they were apart. Still hovering over Max, Piers pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time. 

Their chests heaved as they stared at the rotom. They both knew he needed to leave, but Piers heavily considered canceling the show in favor of spending the night snogging Max’s face off. 

Fuck it… I can be late.

Piers gently tossed the device aside, letting it float down on its own, and dove back down. Max happily went along with it for a short while before feeling guilty. 

Damn it.  

“Mm–” she hummed against him, cupping his cheeks to gently nudge him away. “You’ve gotta go, no?”

Piers, while staring at Max’s swollen lips as if they were the most fascinating things he’d ever seen, sighed. “Don’t wanna.” He immediately dipped back down, a goofy grin curling his lips upward.

“What?” Max laughed, her nose scrunching up a bit as she stopped him from kissing her again. “I thought you loved Halloween shows specifically.” 

I love you more— “This is more fun.”

The sincerity in Piers’ voice, even if it was lighthearted and silly, had Max wanting him to cancel the show too. 

This was the perfect opportunity to poke fun at him, though. “Taking this whole incubus thing a bit seriously, no?” It wasn’t a complaint, but it had piqued her curiosity.

“Ha!” 

Max basked in Piers’ bright smile, feeling proud that she made him laugh, even if it wasn’t all that funny. Even if she always made him laugh.

Whatever. His laugh was cute and made her happy. That’s all that mattered.

Still grinning, Piers squinted at Max, readying an absolutely lethal blow. He nudged her nose with his, then let his lips ghost hers as he purred, “Why? Is it working?” 

Max, hypnotized, let her eyes drop to where their lips were nearly connected. She tilted her head up a tiny bit, but Piers pulled back, his smile widening. 

“Answer the question, love,” he taunted her before repeating the motions. “Am I seducing you?” He added a subtle nudge of his hips against her mid-sentence for emphasis. Max’s lip quivered as she swallowed back a moan before it could come out.

Max didn’t answer him. She didn’t want to lie, but there was no way in hell she was about to tell him how badly she yearned for him. 

Her silence spoke volumes. Piers, wanting to hit Max with one last razzle dazzle, kissed her again, letting his tongue lead the way after successfully propping her mouth open. It was sloppy, it was deep, it was so hot, and it snatched Max’s fucking soul out of her body — very in-character! — but it also ended way too soon for her liking.

Piers concluded darkly after a moment of silence, “Very good to know,” before standing upright. 

Half of him hoped his bulge wasn’t too noticeable.

Only half.

Max definitely saw something, but knew that if she lingered on it for too long, she’d be begging him to stay home, and to give up all restraint and rules and whatever, and to just fuck her senseless instead — so, she did her best to act like it wasn’t there.

“B-but I didn’t even answer you,” she weakly pointed out as Piers pulled out his messy ponytail, promptly fixing it back up into something tidier. 

“But you didn’t deny it,” he winked at her, “and that’s all the confirmation I need.” 

Satisfied with the havoc he’d wreaked, Piers grabbed his phone and made his way towards the door. 

“Huh?” Max squeaked.

Piers met her eyes over his shoulder. “Byeee,” he sang… And he decided on a whim to snipe her one last time. “Try not to have too much fun without me.”

Max was speechless at the implications there as Piers shut the door behind himself. The man was now grinning like a doofus, knowing that he affected Max so immensely, even if it was just this once — at least to his knowledge.

He went into her room initially expecting an honest opinion, then to either hang out a little, or to work on improving his look. Maybe both, if she wanted to help. 

Instead, he was handed some confidence on a silver platter in the form of Max blushing and whimpering for him. Fidgeting because of him. Visibly yearning for him. 

He felt like a million bucks — like he was unstoppable. He was about to put on the best show of his career. He could just feel it.

Max, on the other hand, was stuck staring at the door, completely dumbfounded.

…What the fuck just happened?

[aidanchaser]

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero​ @magic713m​ @ccboomer​ @aubsenroute​ and @somebodyswatson​

Nineteen Years Later

Harry James Potter could not remember the last time he had seen Diagon Alley so crowded. His hopes of coming on a weekday to avoid the crowds of parents shopping for their Hogwarts-age children were fully dashed as he squeezed around a witch and her child in an attempt to reach Madam Malkin’s. He nearly dropped the bag of Potions supplies, but he caught it on his pinky before it slipped from his hand. He adjusted the stack of books under his arm to get a better hold on it and, briefly, regretted letting Ginny take their daughter to the Magical Menagerie so she could look at the animals while the boys finished shopping for their Hogwarts things.

Despite his heavy burden, he reached the steps of Madam Malkin’s safely. The shop’s purple paint was dull and chipped and in desperate need of a touch up, and Harry couldn’t remember it ever having been all that new-looking, even when he was a boy.

Harry glanced behind him to make sure his boys were following, but he could only see one of them.

“James, where’s your brother?”

James Henry Potter was tall for his age, but still dwarfed by the crowd around him. His hair was as dark and messy as his namesakes’ and though he ought to be wearing the glasses they’d purchased for him last spring, he had forgone them today. He complained, quite frequently, that they weren’t cool, and he wasn’t going to be caught dead wearing them out of the house. Harry and Ginny had told him that death could be arranged if he came home with another failing mark this year. Being unable to read the chalkboard was no longer an excuse.

James glanced over his shoulder and, upon finding himself a momentary only child, shrugged. “Guess he got lost.”

Harry adjusted the books under his arm and, though he did not have enough grip in his right hand to actually grab James, managed to get enough of a hold on his shoulder to tug him into the relative safety of the steps of Madam Malkin’s shop. There was at least a slight ebb to the crowd here. Harry pulled James back against the window as a witch and her daughter came out of the shop, burdened with packages of robes.

Harry craned his neck over the crowd in search of his second son while James fidgeted with his wand, entirely unconcerned.

Finally, Harry caught sight of a small, dark-haired boy trying very hard to reach the steps of Madam Malkin’s, but he kept stopping to apologise every time he bumped into someone.

Harry set the bag of potions equipment down so that he could grab the corner of his son’s sleeve and pull him up the steps to Madam Malkin’s.

“Stay close, alright?” Harry said.

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Nothing to apologise for.”

Harry pushed open the door for his boys and led them into Madam Malkin’s. There was only one couple and their son in the shop, chatting with Madam Malkin about school robes.

Harry recognized the tall, well-dressed man by his pale blonde hair instantly. “Malfoy?”

Draco Lucius Malfoy and his wife turned stiffly, but their surprise quickly relaxed into friendly smiles.

Astoria Nyx Malfoy took Harry’s hand and kissed his cheek. “It’s been too long,” she said.

Malfoy greeted Harry with a much less intimate handshake.

“It has been a while.” Harry tried not to stare, but he could not help taking a moment to examine Astoria.

When Malfoy and Astoria had begun their relationship, Malfoy had brought her to their regular teas with Regulus Black, but ever since their son had been born, Malfoy and Astoria had been scarce guests. Harry knew that life could get busy with children, but Regulus had always said it was alright to bring the kids. Harry and Ginny could hardly have attended otherwise, especially once their third child had arrived. And though Harry hated to heed rumour, Malfoy and Astoria’s absence from their regular teas with Regulus had lent credence to the whispers that Astoria’s health was failing.

“You look well,” Harry said, because it was polite to say so, though he found her rather thin and her face was rather pale.

“As do you,” Astoria replied. “Have you met our son Scorpius yet?”

Harry introduced the Malfoys to his sons as well. James had been little more than an infant the last time the Malfoys had seen him, so Astoria properly oohed and aahed about what a fine man he was growing into.

“Growing into a man and out of his robes,” Harry laughed and squeezed James’ shoulder. “I think he’s put on a foot in the last year alone.”

“Then let’s get you all sorted,” Madam Malkin said, approaching with a tape measure in hand. “Which robes does everyone need?”

The younger boys both were in need of first year robes. James needed new Gryffindor robes.

“Why am I not surprised?” Malfoy muttered with a grim smile.

“Dad, can I get Quidditch practice robes, too?” James asked. “My old ones are too short.”

His old ones were also falling apart at the seams from wear and tear. Harry was convinced that James crashed into the ground as much as he did not only because he was determined to master all the trick plays Ginny knew, but because he enjoyed having scrapes and bruises to show off.

“That depends,” Harry said, “on your marks this year.”

“Yes, yes, I promise I’ll do my best in school.”

It was given the way all of James’ promises were given: hastily and without concern for consequence.

“Alright, you can get two new sets of practice robes. Wait —” Harry stopped James before he could disappear to the fitting room with Madam Malkin. “Wand, James.”

“But I’ve been good all day!” James protested.

“You’re not in trouble; we’re just preventing trouble.”

James hesitated as he weighed the choice of giving up his wand against the tentatively earned practice robes, but finally handed his wand over to Harry. Then he hurried into the back with Madam Malkin to pick out his Quidditch practice robes. Harry would not be surprised if James came back with Quidditch robes only and no school robes.

Astoria followed the boys, and Harry, grateful for the opportunity of a brief break, set down his burdens and sank into one of the chairs in the foyer.

Malfoy, after a moment’s hesitation, joined him.

“James sounds like a handful,” Malfoy said.

Harry smiled, but shrugged his shoulders. “No more than I deserve.”

Malfoy laughed. “I think Scorpius has more of Astoria in him than me. He’s too good for his own good.”

“Are you worried about sending him to Hogwarts?”

Malfoy didn’t answer right away. Though his posture was perfect, his hand fidgeted uncomfortably with the chain of his pocketwatch. He opened his mouth to answer, then changed his mind and closed it. “Yes,” he finally said. “We’re worried.”

Harry did not press. He had learned from years of Auror interrogations that sometimes the best way to get information from a suspect was to say nothing at all. But Malfoy did not take the bait.

After a lengthy and uncomfortable pause, Harry finally said, “He’ll be alright. I can put in a good word with his professors if you like. Ask them to look out for him.”

Malfoy cast Harry a withering glance. “I suppose you’re close with all the Hogwarts staff these days.”

“Most of them,” Harry grinned, but sobered his smile quickly when Malfoy did not smile back. “You know Remus will look out for him.”

Malfoy pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. He stared at the watch face for a bit longer than necessary before tucking it away again. “I haven’t spoken with Lupin in years. I’m not sure he’d take my owl.”

“I think you know Remus fairly well. Do you really think he’d ignore a letter from you?”

Malfoy’s smile was bitter. “After what my mother did?”

Harry bit down on the inside of his cheek. From a certain perspective, the very public war waged by Narcissa Malfoy against Remus Lupin was Draco’s fault. Draco had made the decision to get married, which meant moving out of his parents house, something that had greatly upset Narcissa Malfoy. Depending on who you asked, her tears at Draco’s wedding had been the product of joy, grief, or even anger.

Not long after Draco’s wedding, Narcissa Malfoy sued for custody of Delphini Lestrange. It became, according to the Daily Prophet, the largest scandal in wizarding history since Rita Skeeter’s biography of Albus Dumbledore had revealed his true ties to Gellert Grindelwald.

Dora was criticised, of course, by the purists for her father’s Muggle-born heritage and Sirius was criticised for his reckless youth and unprestigious profession. But even the moderates did not quite know what to make of their relationship to each other. No matter how many times they denied intimacy, on paper, Dora was a single mother living with two men she wasn’t married to, one of whom was her pureblooded cousin, whose parents had actually been cousins. The Prophet and Witch Weekly alike had a field day with that.

The Potters, too, were referenced frequently, but no one suffered from the attention as much as Remus did.

His curse was widely known, between Snape outing him and the Prophet publishing his face during the war with “dangerous werewolf” printed beneath it, alongside a hefty bounty. But even that had not made this new publicity any easier to bear.

In the interest of appearing neutral on the issue, the Prophet had published two opinion pieces under the heading, “Remus Lupin: Man or Monster?” One had been written by Dean Thomas, who had praised Lupin for being a kind professor, an excellent duelist, and a careful father, not to mention war hero. The other had been written by Damocles Belby, a supposed expert on werewolves who even held an Order of Merlin. Harry could at least give Belby credit for inventing the potion that allowed Remus to keep his sanity each full moon, but he would never forgive Belby for pointing out in his article that while his potion, when taken appropriately, allowed a werewolf to maintain their mental facilities, it did not make a werewolf’s bite any less contagious.

Remus had handed his resignation to McGonagall that morning, but Harry had heard from Regulus, who had heard from Phineas Nigellus, that McGonagall had torn Remus’ resignation up in front of him and said, “You may go back to your classroom and teach or stay up here and take care of my work while I teach your students, but we both have jobs that need to be done and quitting because people don’t like how we do our jobs won’t get them done any better.”

Despite McGonagall’s insistence that he stay, Remus had taken a brief leave of absence and Lily had taken over for Defence Against the Dark Arts for a time.

The end result was, truth be told, better than Harry could have hoped for. Hermione had campaigned on Remus’ behalf and Del’s behalf. Her hard work had ended with the Werewolf Registration Act stricken from the record alongside several related laws about werewolf employment and marriages. She also got custody of Del fully returned to not just Dora but to Remus and Sirius, as well as a recognition of Remus and Dora’s marriage as legitimate. And while at the time, Remus and Sirius’ marriage had held no standing in a Muggle court, wizards at least recognized partnerships of all sorts. Hermione had made sure theirs was added to the marriage record as well.

Ultimately, it had been a huge victory for werewolf legislation and equal treatment, but the stress it had put them all through hardly felt worth it.

“Remus doesn’t blame you for any of that,” Harry said.

Malfoy’s grim expression was unchanged. “He ought to.”

“Your mum lost her head because you grew up. I don’t think that makes it your fault.”

Malfoy rubbed his jaw as indecision flickered in his grey eyes. He looked washed out, pale and worn. Not unlike his wife.

Finally, he said. “I might have told her, in a fit of temper, that Lupin was the best professor I ever had. I might have tried to put him on the guest list for my wedding, and if I had been the one to have any final say in those invitations, he would have gotten one. But if I had kept my mouth shut around my mother, if I had let her think I believed everything that she did about the world, maybe she would never have gone after him the way that she did.”

“Hippogriff shit,” Harry said. “She never liked that Del lived with them, and the only reason she didn’t offer to take Del in herself was because she had you to worry about. She was always going to go after Del the minute you were married.”

“Maybe if I had married someone who thought like she did, someone who promised to raise grandchildren the way that she wanted, she wouldn’t have bothered with Del.”

“You can’t blame it all on you growing up and falling in love with a reasonable human being. At least, I hear Astoria is reasonable. I feel like I hardly know her.”

“She is reasonable,” Malfoy said. “The most reasonable person I’ve ever met.” His fingers fidgeted with his watch chain again.

Harry, instinctively, chose to remain silent, to let Malfoy fill the space with what he was thinking. This time, it worked.

“I’ve been thinking about Lupin a lot since I met Astoria.”

But Malfoy lapsed into another silence, and Harry bit back an impulsive comment about Lupin being reasonable. He waited for Malfoy to explain, and it was a test of patience not to simply ask what Malfoy meant.

“It’s not the same,” Malfoy finally said. “I know it isn’t the same but I…” His pale eyes flicked around the shop briefly before returning to the ajar door Astoria and Scorpius had disappeared behind. “She’s not well,” Malfoy managed, “and it’s nothing like Lupin’s… curse, but it’s a curse all the same. So I… I’ve been thinking of him.”

Harry waited for Malfoy to say more, but it seemed he had wrung out all the details he could manage.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry finally said.

There was another long pause that Malfoy did not jump to fill. So Harry said, “You really should write to him.”

“I’ll consider it,” and then, as if it were a perfectly natural segue, Malfoy asked, “So James plays Quidditch?”

Harry didn’t mind the change in topic. It was far easier to talk about his kids than anything else in his life. “Chaser. Though if he wore his glasses, he’d probably manage as a decent Seeker.”

“What are kids flying these days?”

“Firebolt Supremes were the stars of the last World Cup,” Harry said. “Ginny says there’s a new Thunderbolt that’s hitting the market soon, and is supposedly better, but everyone’s a bit nervous after the inquiries into their last model.”

Malfoy shook his head. “You can’t have all the speed and all the durability, no matter what the ads say.”

“James wouldn’t give a whit about durability, but I suppose I wouldn’t have either at thirteen.”

This earned not quite a laugh, but a vaguely heavy breath and a bit of a smile from Malfoy. “No, neither would I,” he said.

The door to the fitting rooms swung open and crashed into the wall as James barrelled towards Harry, burdened beneath piles of fabric.

Astoria and the other two boys came at a more reasonable pace. Astoria’s dark brown eyes glittered with amusement at James’ energy, and her mouth quirked into a bemused smile when she saw Malfoy.

“What were you two talking about to earn that expression?” she asked.

“Quidditch,” Malfoy said.

“Don’t you dare put ideas into Scorpius’ head.”

“No one’s died playing Quidditch.”

“Not for like a hundred years anyway,” Harry put in unhelpfully.

And James excitedly added, “I think we’re due for a fatality in next year’s World Cup!” which was just the sort of joke Harry and Ginny were trying so desperately to teach James was fine for family, at home, but perhaps not for the broader public.

But Harry had set him up for it, so Harry apologised for himself, and did not make James apologise — this time.

After he repaired the damage James had done to Madam Malkin’s doorway in his excitement — which James did apologise for, and without any prompting from Harry — Harry paid for his sons’ school robes and they said their goodbyes to the Malfoys.

“Dad, can I have my wand again?” James asked as Harry shouldered open the shop door.

Harry, whose arms were once again full of books and potions ingredients and now boxes of robes, did not see how he was going to dig James’ wand out of his pocket.

“Take the potions things, please,” Harry asked, “and hold your brother’s hand. We’re nearly done. One more stop.”

Unlike Madam Malkin’s, Ollivander’s shop had received a fresh coat of paint. The windows were newly polished, and the plush pillows on the displays were brightly coloured with no sign of fading in the sun. Even the gold lettering above the shop Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. looked newly minted. The sign on the door read, Walk-ins welcome until 31st of August.

Harry paused in the middle of the street, impressed to find it so new-looking. Ollivander’s apprentice had long-passed her seventh year, but she had stayed on with Ollivander instead of starting her own shop, and she’d taken to caring for the shop as thoroughly as if it were her own. Ollivander was ageing, and she had promised to stay to help him manage the business until he was ready to retire, whenever that would be. Some days, it seemed like Ollivander would live forever.

“Dad, come on!” James pushed his father forward and tugged his brother along behind him.

Harry stepped out of the crowded street and up to the shop, but he did not go in. “We have to wait for your mum and sister.”

James, however, did not like waiting for much of anything. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then moved the bag of potions supplies to his other hand. Then he started digging through it.

While James entertained himself by investigating the potions ingredients, his brother fidgeted anxiously beside Harry.

Harry nudged his shoulder. “Alright?”

He did not look up from his shoes, but he nodded. “M’fine.”

“Don’t be nervous.”

He straightened up as if he had been scolded. “I’m not nervous.”

Harry bit back a smile. “Alright. I believe you.”

He held his very brave pose for a moment before his shoulders slumped. “James says I’m going to be in Slytherin.”

“When did he say that?”

“In the shop. He said they would pour slime in my robes to turn them green.”

Harry pursed his lips. It was a bold thing for James to tease his brother when he was already on thin ice for his marks last term.

“Scorpius said Slytherin’s a great house,” he continued in a rush, as if he were afraid he would lose courage in a moment and had to get it all out before he lost his chance, “and he said that all the best wizards were Slytherin, but James said all the worst wizards were Slytherin and Sirius doesn’t like Slytherin and I don’t want to be in Slytherin.”

Harry recalled a similar anxiety when he had first turned eleven. His mother had been stressed about other things at the time, and hadn’t taken his concern all that seriously. He didn’t blame her; his parents had had far too much to worry about when Harry had started at Hogwarts, worries Harry couldn’t even fathom having about his own children. It would be an entirely different sort of trip to Diagon Alley if Harry had been worried about a prophecy and the return of the Dark Lord.

But since he wasn’t worried about those things, he had plenty of space to spare for his son’s worry about Sorting.

“Scorpius is right. Lots of great wizards have been Slytherin. James is right, too. Lots of terrible wizards have been Slytherin. But there have been terrible Gryffindors just like there have been terrible wizards in each house. Whatever house you end up in is not a prediction of what you will become. You will make a great mark on whatever house you end up.”

“Even Slytherin?”

“Even Slytherin.”

“Even Hufflepuff?”

“Hey, how do you think Teddy would feel to hear you say it like that — James, put that down!”

James had decided to investigate a bottle of Bulbadox Juice and nearly had the cork worked off. He was a fraction of an inch away from a hand full of boils.

James dropped the bottle and Harry drew his wand, Cushioning the bottle’s fall just before it hit the ground.

“I didn’t mean to!” James said. “I just wanted to look!”

Harry could fill a library with the number of dangerous things James got into because he had “just wanted to look” or had “got bored.” Sometimes Harry thought James might be more of Sirius’ son than anyone else’s. He’d nearly been named for Sirius, but Sirius had adamantly refused to let Harry use his name for any children.

“I’m already the third with my name and I’d prefer it die here, thank you very much,” Sirius had said.

Harry carefully recorked the bottle and returned it to the bag. “It’s alright, James, just maybe don’t go fussing with potions supplies without proper supervision and equipment.”

“I promise I won’t — oh! There’s Mum!”

Whatever caution James had promised was instantly forgotten as he jumped up and waved to his mother and sister. The bottles of glass and pewter clattered in the bag dangerously, but James hardly noticed as he ran to hug his mother.

It was like having a Crup for a son.

Once Ginevra Molly Potter had reached the front of Ollivander’s shop, outside the crush of the crowd, she set her daughter down on the ground.

Lily Ginevra Potter was the spitting image of her mother. She had bright red hair, deep brown eyes, and freckles splashed across her nose. When she smiled, which she did often, there was a noticeable gap between her front teeth.

Now that her hands were free of Lily, Ginny hugged each of her boys. Then she pulled Harry into a kiss. He adjusted the books in his arms so he could slip his usable hand into hers.

“How are the animals?” Harry asked.

“Lily wants to get you a Flobberworm for your birthday.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

“She thinks they’re cute. I told her we ought to talk about it before we buy a pet as a birthday present.”

“Thank you for that.”

“How were the boys?”

“They were their usual selves.” Harry shouldered open the door to Ollivander’s and ushered the children inside. “Ran into Malfoy and Astoria and their boy while we were in Madame Malkin’s.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “They’re out and about?” But she did not press Harry for details once they were inside the shop.

It was a small space, and the five Potters filled almost the entire shop. Like the fresh coat of paint on the outside, the boxes had been dusted recently and the shop had a fresh, citrus smell to it. Harry did not see any sign of Ollivander, though, nor his apprentice.

“Can I get a wand too?” Lily asked as she tugged on Harry’s hand.

“Two more years,” Harry said, “then it will be your turn.”

Ginny pulled James back by the collar of his shirt before he could reach for a load-bearing box and tug it from its shelf and, after a final glance around the shop for either of its proprietors revealed no one, she pressed down on the bell on the shop counter.

“Just a moment!” a woman’s voice called from the shop room.

Harry was happy to wait; it was his children who struggled with patience.

James, having been denied exploration of the precariously placed boxes, went back to exploring his potions supplies. Lily, similarly denied her own wand, peered into James’ bag. She asked James about all the ingredients inside and Harry relaxed a bit as James began to explain what he knew about each ingredient and to make up information when he didn’t. James was at his best when he went into what Ginny affectionately called, “big brother mode.” Harry had never had siblings, until Violet who felt more like a niece than a sister, but he knew what Ginny meant. When James felt responsible for something or someone else, he performed spectacularly. It was when he was left to himself that he got a bit too reckless.

“No need to be nervous,” Ginny said softly, and combed her younger son’s hair back. “You’ll find a wand that suits you just fine.”

“I’m not nervous,” he said, with the same bravado he’d tried to conjure outside the shop.

Neither of his parents were fooled.

There was a small pop from the back of the shop, a strangled yelp and a hissed curse.

Harry reached for his wand, duelling instincts intact not just from a childhood consumed by war but from a career as one of the most distinguished Aurors of his generation.

“It’s alright,” a warbly gentleman’s voice called. “Just a bit of an accident with some unicorn hair.”

But Harry did not tuck his wand away, not until Garick Gervaise Ollivander emerged from the back of the shop and with him, his apprentice-turned-assistant, Anne Elizabeth Thelborne.

Anne and Ollivander’s eyes alike lit up when they saw Harry. Anne hurried forward and kissed his cheek.

“Harry! I was wondering when we would see you! Your boy —” and she turned to the young, eleven-year-old boy who was carefully extricating himself from his mother’s hand “— ah, yes, you turned eleven this year, didn’t you?”

Ollivander smiled gently. “Then shall we get this young man fitted for a wand?”

James and Lily watched excitedly as Anne flicked her wand and Summoned a measuring tape. She called out numbers to Ollivander, like the length of the wand arm, the wrist, the distance between his eyes and the length of his nose, and all sorts of absurd details while Ollivander browsed the shelves and pulled down a few boxes.

They tried several wands, but none seemed to work for the young wizard. The first sparked unpleasantly; the second hissed and created a foul odour; the third drenched Lily and put her in tears.

“He did it on purpose,” Lily cried as she clutched Harry’s leg, which made it rather difficult to dry her off.

“He did not,” Harry assured her. “I had the same thing happen to me when I got my wand.”

But Lily’s enthusiasm for the wand fitting was properly squelched, and even James’ excitement waned as the fitting dragged on.

Ginny watched with pursed lips and whispered to Harry, “I don’t remember mine or my brothers’ taking so long.”

Harry shrugged. “Mine did. Both times.”

But as the fitting continued, only Anne and Ollivander’s excitement flourished. Harry remembered this from his first fitting: Ollivander loved a tricky customer, and while he did not know Anne especially well, he knew that she enjoyed a challenge.

“Any ideas Ms Thelborne?” Ollivander asked as he set aside a seventeenth failed wand.

Anne pursed her lips. “May I see your wand hand, Mr Potter?”

Her young customer’s cheeks burned with the honorific, but he held his hand out to her.

She trailed her fingers along the creases in his hand slowly, a practice Harry remembered from Trelawney’s Divination classes. He wasn’t especially fond of the subject, but as long as Anne wasn’t about to issue any prophecies about Dark wizards and destinies, Harry thought it would be alright.

Anne closed his hand and looked back to Ollivander. “What about that cherry one I just finished?”

Ollivander tipped his head. “Curious choice. Cherry it is.”

Anne waved her wand and Summoned a box from the back room. She was surprisingly delicate as she opened the box and handed the wand off.

“Cherry,” she said, “with a dragon heartstring core. Ten and three-quarters, and rather pliant.”

He waved the wand and the lights in the shop dimmed. Instead, silver light, winking and glittering like starlight, filled the room. Harry stared, shocked and fascinated by such a strong display. Even James, who had found picking at a tear in his jeans more interesting than his brother’s wand fitting paused to stare with his mouth open. His wand fitting certainly hadn’t had such a grand conclusion.

“Well done,” Ollivander smiled as the starlight winked out and the lamps returned to their full warm glow. “A powerful wand which will require a strong will to keep it in line. Are you up to the task, Mr Potter?”

“Er — yes.”

Ginny combed his hair back again as Anne took the wand from him to wrap it appropriately. Harry tried to pay for the wand, but as it had been when Harry had purchased his wand, as it had been when they had purchased James’ wand, his offer was rebuffed.

“The debt I owe you and your father is far too great, my boy,” Ollivander insisted.

“I really can’t —” but Ollivander had already turned away.

Reluctantly, Harry returned his Galleons to his pocket. He would have to remember to send Ollivander something very nice for Christmas.

Once they were outside, James asked, “Are we going home now?”

“Just to drop off our things,” Ginny said. “We have dinner with your grandparents tonight.”

James groaned. “But I wanted to try the Sticky Trainers!”

Ginny lifted the bag of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes out of James’ reach — or as out of his reach as she could; he was getting far too tall for his own good. “Not tonight. And not even if we were just going home. It’s your dad’s birthday, not yours.”

Harry privately thought that if they weren’t having a family dinner, he would certainly enjoy trying out the Sticky Trainers with James as a way of celebrating his birthday, but he was not going to undermine Ginny. So instead he said, “Maybe Sirius will bring something experimental to dinner.”

This mollified James well enough.

When they had taken this walk from Ollivander’s back to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo home two years ago, after James’ wand fitting, there had been a long lecture from Harry and Ginny about the rules of owning a wand. A wand was not a toy, was not to be pointed at younger siblings, was not to be used except under the supervision of an adult, particularly professors, and certainly not outside of school, and certainly certainly not in a place a Muggle might see.

Harry did not think he needed to give the speech again. Lily might need reminders when it was her turn, but their middle child had not even asked to hold his wand again. Instead, he was rather quiet on their walk back to the Leaky Cauldron and his normally pensive face looked troubled.

“Everything alright?” Harry asked, slowing his pace to match his son’s.

“Yes.”

But Harry didn’t believe him. “Are you worried about your wand?”

His eyes drifted to the slender box tucked under Harry’s arm, pressed up against the stack of books. “Rosie said her wand made a book zip across the room.”

“Do you remember James’ wand fitting?”

“It made a light, didn’t it?”

“It was a pleasant, golden glow. Do you think yours was any less?”

“No, no, it was… I don’t know, wasn’t it a lot?”

“Maybe you’re meant for a lot,” but Harry realised belatedly that these were not the words of comfort that his son needed, and he should have expected it. If anyone knew the burden of a destiny, it was him.

“I only mean,” Harry tried to amend, “that you will be able to do anything you put your mind to. You’re smart and a hard worker. Your wand chose you because it knows you’ll do great work with it. You’ll be whatever you want to be.”

But this did not seem to make things any better, and before Harry could find the right words to alleviate his son’s anxiety, they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny went through the Floo first, the children were to follow one at a time, and Harry would go last. That way, if anyone misspoke and got lost, they would know right away. It had, so far, only happened twice. Once to James, who had been too excited and ended up not at the Hogsmeade Cottage, but at the Hog’s Head instead. Lily had mumbled her way through her first Floo trip and, instead of ending up at her grandparents’ home, had managed to stumble her way into Picksie’s nearby cottage.

Once home, with no Floo mishaps this time, Ginny and Harry sorted through the boys’ school things and made each promise that all school things — wands included — were to stay in their trunks until school. Nothing would get lost or left behind or misused. Both boys readily agreed, but they were hardly halfway upstairs before James was whispering, “Hey, can I see your wand?”

“Don’t you dare touch his wand,” Ginny called after him. “All wands stay home tonight.”

“Why?” James whined.

“If you touch your brother’s wand, I will keep your broom home until Christmas.”

“But the match against Slytherin is always before Christmas! I can’t miss it!”

“Then leave your brother’s wand alone and it won’t be a problem.”

Harry remembered Malfoy’s nerves about sending Scorpius to Hogwarts. Harry had largely been excited for his boys, but for the first time he worried about letting the two of them go together without his and Ginny’s supervision.

Well, at least there would be plenty of people at Hogwarts to look out for them.

Once school supplies had been put away and the boys had been checked for their wands, Ginny went through the Floo to Styncon Garden. James went right behind her and Lily dithered for a moment before stepping into the fireplace.

When Harry realised that his son was not following readily, he resisted the urge to ask what James had done or said now.

“Still nervous about school?” he asked instead.

“What if I am in Slytherin?”

“Then your mother and I will wear red and green to Quidditch matches.”

“But…”

“You know you’re named for a member of Slytherin. He’d be quite pleased to hear you’d made it into his house.”

Peter Regulus Potter chewed nervously on his lower lip. He’d been told the story of his name — Peter for the Gryffindor who had saved Harry from Voldemort as an infant and Regulus for the Slytherin who had helped Harry defeat Voldemort as an adult. He hadn’t been told how Sirius had bitched about the choice for a week, and he hadn’t been told how Regulus had been moved to tears and protested the name choice. He hadn’t been told about the several long nights Harry and Ginny had spent talking over his name during her pregnancy.

“All my brothers already have boys,” Ginny had said, “so their names are taken.”

“My dad and Remus have already had their names used, and Sirius has thrown quite the fit about his name,” Harry had sighed.

“We might just have to consult a book,” Ginny had frowned, “or an oracle.”

Harry had heard of wizarding parents seeking out an oracle for help naming children — Fleur and Bill had done it for each of their three children — but he was staunchly against the idea. Perhaps he would like Firenze’s advice, but he had a feeling Firenze would give him a lecture about the absurdity and selfishness of consulting the stars for such a personal problem.

He had stroked Ginny’s hair absentmindedly as they had sat together, enjoying a brief moment of quiet while James was asleep. He’d returned to the possibility of naming their son after Sirius, even if Sirius hated the notion.

“You know,” he had said, mostly as a joke, “The only thing Sirius might hate more than us using his name would be using Regulus’ name.”

Ginny had laughed. “Certainly not, though. Well, maybe as a middle name…”

And though it had been a joke, Harry and Ginny both found that they quite liked the idea of using Regulus’ name. He was important to both of them, in different ways, and it would be a kind way to recognise his influence on their paths. Their conversation about Regulus had led Harry easily to Peter, which he and Ginny agreed was a much more tasteful first name.

“But what if I don’t want to be in Slytherin?” Peter asked.

Harry remembered Fred and George’s absurd claims that there would be a duel with a dragon and all sorts of challenges to determine a new Hogwarts student’s house. He did not want to spoil the mystery of the Sorting Ceremony for Peter, but he knew how much his son was prone to worry, and did not need him anxious for the next month as James teased him.

“You know, I almost got into Slytherin,” Harry said.

Peter’s green eyes widened. “You?”

“I was told I’d do well in Slytherin and in Gryffindor. But I asked to be in Gryffindor.”

“I can just ask?”

“Asking matters. I only asked, though, because I wanted to stay with Ron, and I was pretty confident he would end up in Gryffindor.” He supposed he had also done it to avoid Malfoy, but he didn’t need to tell Peter that.

“You can choose to stay with your friends?”

“If you want. And you may not want to share a common room with James for the next five years…”

This, finally, got a laugh out of Peter. Harry did not know why it was hard to make Peter laugh, but it did make each of his laughs matter that much more.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Harry pulled him into a hug. “Now we’d better go before your mum owls Uncle Percy at the Ministry to find out where you got lost in the Floo Network.”

Peter stepped into the fireplace, and as soon as he had disappeared in the green flames, Harry followed.

When he emerged from the fireplace in his parents’ living room, he was greeted with a loud shout accompanied by the blare of noise makers so startling that he nearly grabbed for his wand before he realised that the shout was, “Happy birthday!” and the crowd of people around him were his friends.

The first person to grab his arm was Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley. Her thick curls were tied back and she still wore her Ministry robes, like she had come straight from work. “We’re so glad to see you!” she said as she pulled him close and squeezed him tight.

“What are you all doing here?” he laughed.

“It was a surprise.” Neville Fransiscus Longbottom was nearly as tall as Harry, and about three times as thick. Harry practically fell into him as Neville followed Hermione’s lead and pulled Harry into a hug. “Were you surprised?”

“Very.” Harry’s heart was still racing and he held onto the mantlepiece to keep from falling over. “I thought you and Hannah were in Tibet for the summer?”

Neville scratched the back of his head uncomfortably, mussing his long blond hair. “Er — we came back just for this.”

Ronald Billius Weasley clapped Harry on the shoulder. The white scars along the back of his hand crisscrossed and spiralled up his arm, disappearing into the magenta sleeves of his Weasley Wizard Wheezes robes. “You didn’t think we’d let you get away with a quiet birthday, did you?”

Harry should have expected nothing less of his friends. He smiled and shook his head. “I guess not. Though I wish I’d known about it so I could miss it.”

Ron checked his shoulder affectionately and Hermione kissed his cheek.

“We are allowed to make you feel special every once in awhile,” she said.

“Oh, sure, I haven’t had enough of that in my life.”

“You don’t really mind, do you, Harry?” and Harry turned to see Cedric Amos Diggory, whose copper hair was just beginning to grey at his temples.

Harry could not help but laugh as they embraced. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

He was grateful, truly. It was so hard to see his friends these days. Ever since Ron had stepped down from his position as an Auror to work part time with Fred and George, Harry saw him hardly at all. He ran into Hermione and Cedric at the Ministry on occasion, but that was for work and hardly time for a pleasant chat. Neville and Hannah worked at Hogwarts, so Harry only had a chance to see them during the summer or on holidays.

Similarly, it was hard to make time to see his family.

He extricated himself from his friends to find his parents. He saw as much of them as he could, particularly during the summer, since James and Lily had been teaching at Hogwarts ever since Violet had turned eleven.

Slughorn had finally retired for a second time, and Lily had taken over Potions. In the wake of her promotion to Headmaster, McGonagall had had about as much trouble filling the position of Transfiguration professor as Dumbledore had once had filling the Defense Against Dark Arts position, until James had taken over. Violet, Teddy, and Del had all been less than thrilled to discover just how much of their family had suddenly become professors.

But now that it was Peter’s turn, Harry was glad to know just how many people at Hogwarts would be there to look out for him.

He found his parents not far behind his friends, eager to greet him.

The war had not aged them well, but peace had done them good. Their wrinkles were more from laughter than worry, and they both Charmed their hair to be just as rich and colourful as it had been in their youth.

Lily Juniper Potter wore a light, summer dress appropriate for the warm weather, save for a tight sleeve that covered the scars on her right arm. As she pulled Harry into a hug, Harry caught the scent of flour and smoke. He wondered if he ought to worry about the state of his birthday cake.

James Fleamont Potter’s glass eye was unmoving, but his smile was always more inviting than his injury was off-putting. While waiting for his turn to hug Harry, he asked, “How was the wand fitting?”

“It went well,” Harry said. “Though I wish it had taken longer. Maybe then everyone here would have given up on waiting and gone home.”

Lily kissed his cheek. “You have a lot of people who love you, Harry. You’ll have to indulge us all once in a while.”

There was a sharp tug on Harry’s hand and he was forced to look down at his youngest child.

While no nicknames had ever stuck for James — at best, he and his grandfather could be differentiated between with “Harry’s boy” and “Prongs” — Lily had taken well to “Little Lily” in order to distinguish her from her grandmother. Maybe someday Little Lily would outgrow the nickname, but for now, it worked.

“Were you surprised, Dad?” Little Lily asked. “Mum said we couldn’t tell you because you had to be surprised.”

“I was very surprised,” Harry smiled. He let her lead him away from his parents towards the dining room, and, as soon as he thought his own parents were out of earshot, asked, “Next time your mum says to surprise me, how about you tell me first?”

“But how can you be surprised if you know?”

“I can pretend to be surprised, just like you pretended not to know about the surprise.”

Little Lily considered this proposition with a very thoughtful expression. “I promise to tell you the next time Mum does a surprise only if you promise to get me a Grindylow for my birthday.”

Harry considered the dangers and expenses of owning a Grindylow. He searched desperately for a counter offer. “Wouldn’t you like something a bit easier to cuddle, like a Crup?”

“But a Crup doesn’t have sharp teeth!”

Harry was going to have to be careful or his daughter was going to come home from her first year at Hogwarts with a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

“We’ll see what we can do,” he said.

He glanced around for Ginny, ready to get in one last complaint about being surprised, but she was standing between James and Peter, and Harry was not eager to join her in the middle of whatever it was. He’d been mediating between the boys all afternoon; it was Mum’s turn.

Then two different loud boys, even littler than Little Lily, burst into the dining room, and each of them grabbed one of Lily’s hands.

“We saw a Flitterby in the garden!” Lorcan Xenophilius Scamander half-shouted, and tugged Lily away from Harry.

“Let’s catch it! Let’s catch it!” his twin brother Lysander Rolf Scamander shouted, too, anxiously tugging Lily to the garden.

Lily, ever ready to chase something outdoors, shrieked and followed them. The three of them nearly knocked Luna Pandora and Rolf Artemus Scamander over on their way out to the garden.

Once she had her balance back, Luna pulled Harry into a hug, complete with a kiss on each cheek. “It’s so good to see you. We’ve missed you!”

Harry pulled himself out of Luna’s hug and greeted her husband with a much more cordial handshake.

“It’s good to see you, too.” He so rarely got to see the Scamanders, since Rolf travelled a lot for his research, and Luna and their children often went with him.

“We’re sorry we can’t stay long,” Luna said, “But we wanted to make sure we said hello.”

“Everything alright?”

“It’s a holiday for us,” Rolf said. He checked the time on his pocketwatch. “We’re meeting my parents in a bit for service.” A loud shriek from the garden made all of them stiffen just a bit. “I’ll check on them,” Rolf murmured, and excused himself.

“Er—which holiday is it?” Harry asked Luna. He wasn’t entirely familiar with the Jewish calendar.

“It’s the sad one,” Luna said, which didn’t really help Harry, but he supposed it was the most that he could expect from Luna.

“Right, well, I suppose ‘Have fun’ isn’t the right thing to say then.”

“Time with family should always be fun, even on sad days,” she said, and kissed his cheek once more. “I’d better not keep the guest of honour all to myself. But I promise we’ll have you over for dinner before we go back to Panama.”

“I look forward to it,” Harry said, and meant it. He may not care for large parties nor for large groups of people, but he loved getting to spend time with his friends. As a boy, he had envied Ron’s loud, full house, but now he found much more appreciation for the quiet spaces and the more intimate exchanges with friends. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how he had grown up or if having kids had simply worn away his idealism of the Weasley family’s loud, crowded home.

He decided he ought to take Luna’s advice, though, and enjoy his time with his family. Large parties may not be his favourite thing, but he shouldn’t complain that so many people wanted to celebrate him. He was lucky to be so loved.

Someone shouted something about cake, and Harry, despite his intention to try to engage with the party better, took the opportunity to slip away from the suddenly crowded kitchen. Unfortunately, he was intercepted by Sirius Orion Black, who pulled him into a tight hug and wished him a happy birthday.

“You could have warned me,” Harry complained. “When we were leaving Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes today, and you said ‘See you tonight,’ you could have given me, I don’t know, any sort of clue it would be bigger than just a family dinner.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Sirius smiled. “Besides, if I’d mentioned we’d invited Ron. Hermione, and Neville, would you have stayed home?”

Harry raised an eyebrow and paused to quickly count guests. “And Luna, and Neville’s parents, and did I see the Bones and Macmillans?”

“And Hagrid should be here somewhere.”

“Merlin, Sirius, thirty-seven’s not even an interesting birthday.”

“Just imagine what your parents will do for forty.”

Harry struggled to give Sirius a stern glare but it was hard when he didn’t really mean any of his indignation.

Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks-Lupin appeared suddenly and slid her arm around his shoulder. “Honestly, Harry, if you want to complain about how many people are here, you and your friends should stop having kids. I can hardly keep track of all the little ones these days.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone’s done having kids.”

“Neville and Hannah haven’t even started,” Sirius pointed out.

“Neville and Hannah have a few hundred kids they look out for,” said Harry, who knew that Neville and Hannah both put their work at Hogwarts above all else. They were the most compassionate people he had ever met, and he was glad to know they’d be at Hogwarts watching out for his kids as if they were their own.

“Speaking of kids, where are yours?” Harry asked. He hadn’t seen any of the Black-Lupin-Tonks household since he’d arrived.

“They’re around,” Dora said. “Del might be running late after her shift at St Mungo’s.”

Sirius checked his wristwatch. “She’s still at work, but I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as she can be.”

When his fortieth birthday had arrived, Sirius had not been particularly pleased to receive a wristwatch modelled after Mrs Weasley’s grandfather clock, which told not the time but rather where everyone in the family was. He’d said he didn’t want it nor need it, that he certainly didn’t worry about them all that much.

But he had worn the watch every day since.

Harry could see that the hand for Del was pointed at “Work” and the other hands were all pointed at “The Potters,’” which was only a few ticks away from “Home.”

And then Harry saw nothing at all as someone’s hand fell over his eyes and a very familiar voice said, “Guess who?”

Harry replied with an appropriate elbow to the stomach and turned in an attempt to catch his sister in the space just beneath her ribcage, where she was the most ticklish.

Violet Euphemia Potter danced out of his reach, holding aloft two plates of cake with her wand. She grinned and offered one as a peace offering.

“Happy birthday,” she said as he took the cake.

Harry balanced the plate carefully in his right hand. His grip still wasn’t phenomenal, but it was enough for a plate of cake. “Next time you do something like that I’ll end up hexing you,” he said, but he always said that.

Violet’s dark red hair was pulled up in a ponytail and her dark complexion was flecked with a few darker freckles. Her smile was as ready and easy as her father’s and it held steady even as she chewed and swallowed a bite of birthday cake.

“Good luck getting a hex off on me,” she said. “I achieved five N.E.W.T.S. you know.”

“Five is impressive.”

“It’s five more than you got.”

“That doesn’t mean you can out-duel me yet.”

“Every birthday is another year you’re older and slower.” She swiped a bit of frosting from her cake and smeared it across Harry’s cheek. Then she ducked out of his reach and disappeared into the kitchen before he could quite catch her.

He set his cake on the table and dashed after her, but he had hardly made it into the garden when he ran into a solid wall of a person.

“‘Arry!” a deep voice rumbled. “There yeh are. Good ter see yeh.”

Harry, though he was disappointed to lose this contest with his younger sister, smiled up at Rubeus Hagrid. “Glad you made it.” He wondered if Violet had intentionally led him into one of the only people Harry could not easily escape a conversation with.

“Yeh alrigh’? Yeh looked like you were about to run off.”

“No, not at all. How’s Hogwarts?”

There was not much that went on at Hogwarts that Harry did not know about. Between his parents, Remus, Neville, McGonagall, and Hagrid, Harry was able to get a fairly complete view of what went on at the school. This was something James had learned the hard way during his first year, when he realised it would be impossible to lie to his parents about just how much trouble he got into.

“Yer boy Pete’s starting this year, righ’?” Hagrid asked, and Harry nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on ‘im. Don’t yeh worry abou’ it.”

“I know he’ll be in good hands,” Harry said. He was just about to try to excuse himself to find Violet — he owed her a Stinging Jinx, at the least — when he heard a loud shriek from the west side of the garden.

Harry knew Little Lily’s shriek well and bolted in a dead sprint. He was winded by the time he reached her, and his head spun with adrenaline and fear. He prepared himself for any number of blood, stings, or broken bones.

But it had not been a shriek of terror; it had been a shriek of joy. It was always hard to tell the difference with Lily, but now he could see that she was clapping her hands and laughing giddily as she, the Scamander twins, and Hugo Ronald Granger-Weasley pinched and prodded the Snap Dragons.

The small, bell-shaped flowers looked a lot like their Muggle counterpart: stalks of brilliant reds, yellows, and orange flowers that flared at the end and, when pinched, looked a bit like a dragon opening its mouth. These flowers, however, shot actual spurts of orange and blue flames when pinched.

The children weren’t at risk for much more than a small burn on their fingertips, nothing a salve and a spell couldn’t set right, but Harry was glad to see Rolf was still with them, making sure that no one was leaning in too close and that no one was aiming the small jets of flame at each other.

Lily’s eyes lit up when she saw Harry, and her smile nearly doubled in size. “Dad, look! These ones have blue fire!”

“Vi’s experiments have been paying off,” Harry agreed. He imagined one of Violet’s five N.E.W.T.s was in Herbology. She spent most of her summers in the garden, just as he had growing up, though she’d taken to it all a bit more quickly than he had.

It was hard not to wonder if, had things been different for Harry, he might have preferred Herbology to Defence. As Violet considered her path after Hogwarts, Harry couldn’t help but imagine a different set of choices for himself, a different world that might have ended with him here, caring for the estate and its gardens instead of at the Ministry hunting Dark wizards.

Little Lily shrieked again as Hugo pinched one of the flowers and a small bit of flame curled from the flower and vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Harry scooped Lily up into his arms. “We’ve talked about the difference between excitement screams and blood-curdling danger screams, right?”

“But that was an excited scream, Dad. Do you want to hear my danger scream?”

“Maybe not so close to my ear. Did everyone get cake?”

Lily’s shriek of excitement was dulled only by Hugo and the twins, who also screamed as they bolted for the house. Lily squirmed to be put down to follow them, but Harry held on.

She whined as Harry carried her into the house, stopping only when he finally set her down in the kitchen.

Alice Liesel Longbottom and Frank Charlus Justice Longbottom stood near the cake and a set of dark green bottles. Apparently someone had brought champagne, and the Longbottoms were making sure it didn’t wander its way into smaller hands.

Picksie stood nearby, chatting with the Longbottoms as they passed out cake and champagne. She smiled and waved at Harry, then stepped aside so that the children could get cake.

“How is Harry?” she asked. “Long time, no see,” and she and Harry both grinned because it was horribly untrue.

Harry saw Picksie just about every day in the Ministry. As a Cursebreaker, she worked closely with the Auror office, and as one of the most renowned Cursebreakers, she worked often with the most renowned Aurors. Of course, that didn’t just mean Harry. She’d gotten rather close with the Longbottoms in the last few years.

Alice handed cake to Lily, the twins, and Hugo, who begged for an extra slice with promises to deliver it to his sister in the library, and Frank handed a glass of champagne to Harry and refilled Picksie’s glass. Rolf politely declined the champagne, but did accept a slice of cake.

“Haven’t seen you in an age,” Alice said to Harry, with the same teasing smile Picksie had greeted him with, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“It could be, if you two would retire,” he said.

Frank wrinkled his nose. “Retiring’s for the young. What would we do if we retired, anyway?”

“What would you do if we retired?” Alice laughed. “Who else would test out the Weasley Wizard Wheezes prank supplies in the office to keep morale up?”

Harry tilted his head with a smile. “Is that what you do it for? I thought it was just to run the rookies out.”

He left Picksie, Frank, and Alice to compare notes about their latest case — he had a strict no-work-on-birthdays policy — and thought, despite how many people he had already run into, there were still quite a few guests he hadn’t greeted yet.

He passed the Bones and the Macmillans, who were gathered around the dining room table. Susan Amelia Bones and Ernest Domitius Macmillan chatted with Harry briefly, but did not keep him long. When Hannah Kelcie Longbottom joined them, Harry managed to excuse himself.

Having this many people to greet and make small talk with was too much like being at work or at a formal Ministry event and not enough like a birthday celebration. Of course these were friends, and he tried to remind himself of what Luna had said about time with family, but he couldn’t help but feel the strong sense of obligation.

Fortunately, he found Remus and Beatrice in the entrance hall, and Harry took a seat on the staircase beside Bea, grateful to be with people who knew him well enough that he felt no need to be more than he was.

Remus John Lupin smiled at Harry and wished him a happy birthday. He did not look as tired as Harry might expect for the week leading up to the full moon, but it was summer, and the nice thing about summer was that nights were short and Remus had plenty of time to rest.

Beatrice Anna Harper, similarly, looked a bit paler than usual, but all-in-all seemed well. Her dark hair was tied in a loose braid over one shoulder and she smiled thinly as Harry sat down. She had large dark eyes and a set of scars across her face not unlike Remus’. She fidgeted with one of her silver earrings and listened as Remus asked about Peter’s wand fitting.

“Oh,” Harry said, “that reminds me, I ran into Malfoy today. His boy is starting at Hogwarts this year, too.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’ll be interesting. We’ll keep him and Peter out of any duels as best as we can.”

Harry’s smile was wry as he recalled just how many duels he and Draco Malfoy had gotten into. “Peter’s not the one I’d worry about getting into duels. But James knows his first detention means his broom comes home.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time he starts a duel in my classroom.”

“I just think,” James interrupted, appearing rather suddenly at Remus’ elbow, “that if it’s Defence Against the Dark Arts class we should get to practise Defence spells.”

“Jinxing your roommate with a spell I just covered for handling a Red Cap is not appropriate practise, James, and you know that.”

James wrinkled his nose, unimpressed with Remus’ argument, but then he saw Bea and his eyes lit up again. “Oh, Bea, did you bring your broom? Maybe we could get a match on before dinner.”

Bea gave James an unenthusiastic smile, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t have mine, but if Vi will loan me one, sure.”

“Did Teddy bring his broom?” James asked, glancing between Bea and Remus.

“I’m not sure that Teddy did,” Remus said. “But I think you’d better clear it with your grandad first before you tear up the garden.”

James frowned. “Quidditch is in the air. We won’t tear up the garden.”

“You have a habit of crashing,” Harry reminded him. “You’re allowed to play only if your Mum plays.”

“But that’s cheating,” James protested. “Mum’s a pro.”

“Grandad nearly was too,” Harry said. “See how many brooms you can scrounge up, get your mum and grandad’s permission, then you can play.”

James, quickly as he had come, disappeared to find his mother and grandfather.

“Do you miss Quidditch yet?” Harry asked Bea.

“Getting up for practice at five in the morning? Running hours of drills in the cold?” Bea laughed. “No, I don’t miss Quidditch yet. But at least I didn’t have Vi as my captain.”

Harry laughed. Violet was competitive, more competitive than he remembered Oliver Wood being, at least on the pitch. Unlike Oliver Wood, Vi was good at leaving her competitive nature where it belonged. She and Bea, despite being in Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively, were the best of friends in the school halls. But on the pitch, Violet was focused on nothing but victory.

“Is she planning on nationals?” Remus asked. “That’s coming up, isn’t it?”

“As far as I know, she’s planning on it,” Harry said. “Though I suppose with the five N.E.W.T.s she’s bragging about, she could do anything.”

“Did she mention the N.E.W.T. that she didn’t get?” Bea laughed. “She only achieved ‘Poor’ in Transfiguration.”

Harry grimaced. “Bet she and Dad both loved that. But she did alright in Potions, didn’t she?” he asked. He thought he remembered her talking about opening up a Potions shop at some point, but she’d also talked about Quidditch and managing the house and being a competitive duelist just as much.

Bea nodded. “But she still doesn’t want to quit Transfiguration. James and Sirius gave her stacks of summer reading to get through if she wants to continue with her Animagus studies.”

“She’ll get it eventually,” Remus murmured. “She’s stubborn enough to keep at it.”

Harry wanted to ask Bea what her plans were, now that she was finished with Hogwarts, but he was distracted by a loud, plaintive, “Dad!”

There were enough “Dads” nearby that Harry couldn’t be certain that he was the dad in question, but he was fairly positive that it was one of his boy’s plaintive wails. It had the distinct scent of tattling, something James and Peter alike excelled at.

Harry excused himself and followed the cry into the living room, worried one of his sons had gotten into something they shouldn’t have. Or perhaps the boys were arguing about something and it was going to turn ugly.

He found Peter standing by the fireplace with Rose Mary Granger-Weasley, the two of them looking rather concerned.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“James Flooed home!” Peter complained.

“Why?”

“To get brooms,” Rose said. “He said we didn’t have enough for a proper Quidditch match.”

Harry resisted the urge to simply collapse into the sofa in exhaustion. James was thirteen now, and perfectly capable of using the Floo by himself, but to do it without asking first was entirely unacceptable, and James absolutely should know better. But Harry also knew from personal experience that at thirteen “should know better” did not always trump “brilliant, impulsive idea.”

The fireplace flared green and James stumbled out, a bundle of brooms bunched in his arms.

“Oh,” he said when he saw Harry. “Er — hi, Dad. You said to make sure we have enough brooms for Quidditch.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. How quickly “should know better” set in, once faced with a parent.

“I think I said to get Mum and Grandad’s permission first.”

“Actually, you said brooms first and then you said get Mum and Grandad’s permission.”

Not a day went by that Harry did not think James really ought to be have been named after Sirius. “You can’t Floo home without asking,” Harry said. “You know this.”

“But you would’ve said yes.”

“I would’ve gone instead.”

“But it all turned out alright. Nothing happened.”

Harry almost heard himself at thirteen echoed in James’ voice. Perhaps naming James after himself had not been such a miss after all. Perhaps he and Ginny had done this to themselves.

“But something could have happened,” Harry said, and couldn’t help but hear his own parents in his voice. “You need to ask first.”

“Okay. I’ll ask next time,” James said, and handed a broom to Peter and a broom to Rose.

Harry, as he often did with James, had the unfortunate feeling that nothing he had said would stick. That was the one stark difference between him and James. Harry would have argued until he felt heard. James was happy to agree then promptly forget what he had agreed to. Harry could only guess that James got that from Ginny, who had spent her childhood sneaking around her mother’s strict rules and feigning innocence.

“Leave the brooms here, James, until you get permission.”

James huffed irritably, but set the brooms down by the fireplace and left to find his mum and granddad.

Peter sullenly set down the broom James had given him and collapsed into the sofa with his arms folded across his chest.

Harry pursed his lips. Though there were still guests to greet, he couldn’t let this small fit go unaddressed.

“Rose, did you get cake?” he asked. He noticed a distinct lack of the plate Hugo had adamantly promised to bring to her.

“Not yet,” she said. “Pete, d’you want some?”

“No, thank you,” Peter said. At least Peter, even when upset, never forgot his manners.

As Rose left, Harry sat on the sofa beside Peter. “What’s the matter?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Peter said.

Harry, as he had with Malfoy that morning, waited for the truth.

And, after a moment, Peter said, “You didn’t even yell at James.”

“Did you want me to?”

“He broke the rules! And you aren’t even mad.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and struggled to find a way to explain that no, he wasn’t mad. He was tired, more than anything else. But he did not think that was what Peter wanted nor needed to hear.

“Do you know why your mum and I make rules?” Harry asked.

Peter shrugged. “Because you’re our parents?”

“Because we want you to be safe. When your mum and I get mad, it’s only because we get scared of the danger you could get into. Maybe you don’t always see the danger, but that’s the burden of being a parent. You’ve known more danger than your kids.”

“But you didn’t even ground James.”

“Would that have helped James learn better?”

“Maybe,” Peter mumbled, and Harry could see plainly which of his sons had inherited his own petulant stubbornness.

“Unfortunately for James, he’s not going to learn unless he actually gets himself into danger. But you’re a bit smarter than your brother. You’re willing to learn from someone else’s experience.”

Though Peter did not uncross his arms, and the furrow in his brow did not soften, he raised no more argument. Harry couldn’t be sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, and he worried that perhaps he had made the wrong choice with this conversation.

“Do you want me to tell James no Quidditch today?”

Peter looked for a moment like he might say yes, like he might let this sibling rivalry win the day. But he slumped his shoulders and said, “No, Rosie really wanted to play when James said something about it.”

Harry bit down on the inside of his cheek to restrain a smile. So this fit was not as much about being angry James wasn’t in trouble as it was jealousy over his cousin. “You know you can also play Quidditch.”

“I don’t like Quidditch,” Peter complained.

“That’s alright. There’s plenty of other things to like. Speaking of, are you sure you don’t want cake?”

Peter hesitated a moment, then unwound himself from his tightly coiled temper and followed Harry back into the kitchen.

Harry paused briefly in the entrance to say goodbye to the Scamanders, who had to make their early exit to meet their own family, and he lost sight of Peter in the wake of the conversation. He didn’t worry about Peter disappearing into trouble the way that James did, but he did worry about Peter disappearing into his own head. It was all Harry could do to hope that Peter made good friends at Hogwarts, friends who could keep him from sulking too much, as Ron, Hermione, and Neville had always done for him.

He did not see Peter in the kitchen, but Teddy was there, leaning against the cabinets beside the fireplace.

Edward Remus Lupin was sporting blue hair today, as he often did, and Harry noticed his face was a bit more angular than it naturally was. While Dora used her abilities to mask her Black lineage and look more like her father, Teddy tended to mimic the infamous Black cheekbones that had skipped him. His eyes, however, were the same hazel as his father’s, something that had been true for so long Harry could not remember if it was natural or a choice.

Teddy had a glass of champagne in each hand, but when Harry glanced around, he did not see any conversation partners for Teddy, and he suddenly understood why Teddy was leaning in this space, specifically.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Harry asked with a knowing grin.

Teddy, to his credit, did not blush, but perhaps he would have if he did not have such intimate control over every part of his face.

“She said she’d come for tea,” Teddy mumbled. “Uncle James said it was okay.”

“The more the merrier,” said Harry. And though he did not fully believe in that platitude, he did not mind Victoire visiting. It would be nice to have a guest that was not here just to see him.

The fireplace lit up green and Teddy straightened as a young woman with silvery hair stepped into the kitchen — but he realised quite quickly that it was not Victoire, and he slumped back against the cabinet.

“Hi, Del,” he mumbled.

Delphini Saiph Black — who had formally changed her name from Lestrange to Black around her thirteenth year — was a tall, slender young woman with a pale face, somehow plain despite bearing all the same angles as her aunts and cousins. Her smile was thin as she plucked one of the champagne glasses from Teddy’s hand and greeted Harry.

“Work alright?” Harry asked as they embraced.

“Busy day.” But they always were at St Mungo’s. “Just glad I could get away to wish you a happy birthday.”

“There’s cake.”

Del told them about how she meant to come earlier, but someone had gotten a nose-biting teacup attached to a part of them that was decidedly not a nose and she’d needed to take care of it. She did not have the same flare for dramatic story-telling that Sirius had, but her ability to deliver absurd stories with a straight face was its own brand of humour. Even Teddy, though his eyes kept drifting to the fireplace, laughed.

“Didn’t you have Peter’s wand fitting today?” Del asked Harry. “I half expected him or James to show up in my ward today.”

“If James had had his wand on him today, maybe. We’re hoping to keep them out of a proper duel at least until we send them off to Hogwarts to make them their professors’ problem.”

“They’ll be alright,” Teddy said. “Del and I managed to survive Hogwarts without murdering each other.”

Del picked off a loose, neon green thread from the sleeve of her robe. “It was close a few times, though. I very nearly used an Unforgivable on you when you thought the first day of my O.W.L.s was a good time to light up a set of experimental fireworks in the Great Hall.”

Teddy grinned distractedly. “Ah, but you didn’t. I think you knew you needed the distraction. Everyone did. School would get so mad during exams. Someone had to do something.”

Del’s wrinkled nose suggested that she did not agree. “I suppose it helped that we were in different houses. I could always slam the Slytherin common room door in your face when I needed to get away.”

“It was nice to know you wouldn’t be breathing down my neck in the Hufflepuff common room,” Teddy agreed. “Maybe Pete’ll end up in Ravenclaw. He’s got his head in a book plenty enough that it could be a good fit.”

Harry wondered if it was possible for Peter to choose something other than Gryffindor. At the very least, Remus was head of Gryffindor house, so perhaps that might warn the boys off of any trouble could cause in their dormitories or common room.

“I wouldn’t worry, Harry,” said Del. “Bea and I did alright, even with us both in the same house.”

But Bea and Del weren’t proper siblings. Bea, despite spending each full moon with the Black-Tonks-Lupins, hadn’t even lived with them until she was twelve. Del and Teddy weren’t proper siblings either, but they’d grown up together and hardly remembered a life without the other. It made their rivalry a good deal more intense.

Ginny and Ron had managed with all of their siblings, though, so perhaps Harry was over-thinking it.

“Come on,” a low voice carried in from the garden as the kitchen door swung open. “It’s one match. They only need one more player.”

“Surely there’s someone else here better suited to play,” a voice full of familiar long-suffering replied, and Regulus Arcturus Black stepped into the kitchen. Behind him followed Nigel Arthur Brooks.

“I would if I could,” Nigel said with a smile, “and if I wasn’t worried about breaking my back falling off of one of those things.”

“Regulus,” Harry smiled, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I wouldn’t miss one of your birthday celebrations for the world,” Regulus replied, with an unusually genuine smile.

It had not been until Harry’s twentieth birthday that Regulus had been invited to a family celebration, but time, as it often did, had softened the bitterness between his family and Regulus. And Regulus’ desire to know Teddy and Del had helped ease the old wounds between Regulus and Sirius. It had not been an easy recovery, harder even than the divide that had sprung up between James and Lily, but Harry, Ginny, and Regulus alike had been determined to see it through.

“Are you sure we can’t talk you into a game of Quidditch?” Teddy asked as Regulus embraced him. “Dad says you were pretty good at Hogwarts.”

“I really don’t think —”

The kitchen door flew open once more and James Henry announced himself in a single breath with, “Butifyouplaywe’llhaveenoughforapropermatch!”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve got fourteen players and fourteen brooms?” Harry asked James.

James counted the players on his hands: “Mum and Dad, Grandad, Sirius and Aunt Dora, Teddy, Bea, Aunt Vi, Uncle Ron, Rosie and Hugo and Lily! We just need one more and we can have a proper match with all positions filled! Please, Regulus?”

In the end, it was Cedric who agreed to round out the last Quidditch team. The players filed out to the garden to either play or watch the impromptu Quidditch match. Even Teddy reluctantly abandoned his vigil by the fireplace and picked up a broom.

Remus, Hermione, Lily, and Christian Thelborne took seats beneath a tent to avoid the harsh sun as each of their partners joined the cluster of players. Del made sure that Peter had a seat next to her, and Picksie, Hagrid, Regulus, and Nigel, and the Longbottoms, Bones, and Macmillans joined them all to watch not just the match, but the chaos as young James tried to sort his family into teams.

“Dad, you and Diggory used to be Seekers, right? Dad, you should be on my team. And Mum and Aunt Vi can be my other Chasers —”

“Hold on,” Harry interrupted. “You can’t have me and your mum on the same team.”

“And,” Cedric interrupted, “I’m not exactly equipped to be Seeker like I used to. I’d prefer Chaser or Beater.”

Harry glanced down at the thin white scar that still ran the length of Cedric’s forearm. It was not all that different from the line that wrapped around Harry’s right wrist. They had, both of them, had to learn to duel with their left hand.

“Hugo and Lily can be Seekers,” Ginny said.

“Hugo and Lily never play right,” Rose whined. “They just mess around.”

“That’s perfect,” James Henry said. “If no one catches the Snitch, the game goes on forever!”

“This game is not going to go on forever,” said Ron.

It was the elder James who managed to get everyone sorted, to younger James’ chagrin, as evenly as possible.

James Fleamont, James Henry, and Harry would play as Chasers for one team against Ginny, Violet, and Cedric. Teddy and Bea would play as Beaters for Harry’s team while Dora and Sirius would play on Ginny’s side. Ron and Rose would play as Keepers, and Hugo and Lily would be the Seekers.

“It’ll be a fair match, understood?” James Fleamont said as he kicked open the box of Quidditch equipment. He waited until everyone had agreed — and both Violet and James Henry had each agreed twice — before releasing the clasp on the chain, and each of the balls shot into the air.

It was mostly a fair match. Violet used her elbows a little more aggressively than a regulated match called for, but Harry got her back just as good. Ginny flew circles around Harry, but somehow always lost the ball each time James Henry led a pincer move against her. Likewise, Harry had no problem passing the Quaffle just out of Violet’s reach, but when faced with scoring on Rosie, he very dramatically fumbled the Quaffle, much to James Henry’s chagrin.

They played through most of the afternoon, and might have gone longer if Ron had not helped Hugo find the Snitch and end the game in time for tea.

James and Rose were eager to get the game started again, but at their parents’ insistence stopped to eat. The game that resumed after tea was a bit smaller, just made of James, Rose, Teddy, Violet, and Bea passing the Quaffle around while Lily and Hugo chased each other in the air.

“Rose is quite good, isn’t she?” Ginny said, as Harry passed her a sandwich.

“She is,” Ron beamed proudly. “I imagine she’ll play for Gryffindor next year.”

“You’re assuming she’ll get into Gryffindor,” Hermione pointed out.

“I expect she will,” said Ron. “Though Ravenclaw would be alright, too. Perhaps she and Peter will end up in Ravenclaw together.”

Harry glanced at Peter, who was enchanted by a set of flowers Picksie was making bloom and glow in the fading sun. He didn’t appear to be listening, but it was hard to tell with Peter, who loved to eavesdrop and had a penchant for perking up whenever he heard his name.

“We’ll be happy wherever Pete ends up,” Harry said. “All I hope is that he and James don’t kill each other while they’re at Hogwarts.”

“We’ll keep an eye on them, Harry,” said Neville. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

Harry did his best to smile at Neville’s encouragement, but he could not help but worry. James’ loud and outgoing nature was a stark contrast from Peter’s, but more than that, it was as if the two of them forced each other into their differences. As if Peter shunned Quidditch because James adored it. As if James refused to be studious in school because that was Peter’s gift. If they did both end up in Gryffindor, Harry wasn’t sure if the tower would survive their five years together.

He supposed Hogwarts had survived Regulus and Sirius, and James and Peter certainly weren’t as bad as the Black family. Harry glanced to where his parents were sitting with Dora, Remus, Sirius, and Regulus. It had never made sense to him as a boy how desperate his parents had been to keep him out of trouble, but now he felt nothing but worry.

When Violet was thirteen, she had approached James about becoming an Animagus. Harry had made the mistake of telling her that James and Sirius had been fifteen when they’d learned to shapeshift into their animal forms and she had demanded to be taught, too. Though Harry had teased Sirius and his father for getting too old and too grown-up, he understood perfectly why they had insisted on making Violet wait and do it all properly.

He could only hope that someday, his boys would look back and remember all the stress they had put him and Ginny through, and that they would have better patience with their own children.

The kitchen windows flashed with a warm green glow and moments later, Victoire appeared in the garden. Teddy, Bea, and Violet all landed to greet her; the girls greeted her with a hug and Teddy greeted her with a kiss.

“Oi!” Dora shouted across the garden. “Teddy, Victoire, stay where we can see you.”

“Oh, like you were any better at that age,” Sirius muttered.

“Why do you think we had Teddy so early?” Dora said, and Remus turned bright red. “But I’m certainly not ready to be a grandmother. Don’t tell me you’re eager to be a grandfather.”

“I dunno. We’re well behind James and Lily. Maybe we should encourage Teddy and Victoire a bit more.”

“Merlin, help me,” Remus groaned. “You two are the worst.”

“You picked us,” Dora kissed his cheek, “so really, what does that make you?”

As the sun set and the fairy lights in the flower beds came to life, guests began to say their goodbyes. It had been nice to see everyone, but Harry could not help but feel grateful as people made their way to the Floo or Apparated home. He was content to spend more time with his closest friends and family, which was all he had really wanted from this day.

Eventually, even James Henry had to admit that it was impossible to play Quidditch in the dark and followed everyone inside.

Nigel and Regulus were the only ones who remained behind to enjoy the stars and the fairy lights. Open skies were rare for them in London, after all.

“I am glad you both came,” Harry said.

“You’ve a lovely family, Harry,” said Nigel. “I’m glad fate brought us together.”

Regulus’ smile was a bit more reticent. “I don’t believe any of us expected to live as long as we did. It is worth celebrating.”

Harry shrugged with a smile. “With Ginny’s birthday right between yours and mine, we might as well have a giant summer birthday party together and get them all sorted out at once.”

“You and I might enjoy the reduced attention, but I’m not entirely sure how Ginny would feel about it.”

Ginny had always enjoyed birthdays in a way Harry didn’t understand. He knew what Regulus meant about celebrating surviving, but Harry did that each day. He didn’t see birthdays as anything particularly special — at least, he didn’t see his own birthday as anything particularly special. He adored celebrating his children’s birthdays, and he supposed he just had to accept that his parents enjoyed celebrating him in the same way.

He slipped past Regulus and Nigel into the kitchen, where he found his parents seated at the kitchen table with Dora, Remus, and Sirius. Since there were only four chairs, Lily had elected to sit on James’ lap as the five of them began another round of cake and drinks.

“You’re not all staying the night are you?” Harry asked.

“Thinking about it,” Dora said around a mouthful of cake. “Wolfsbane schedule starts tomorrow.”

“It is easier when we’re all here for it,” Sirius agreed. “I’m sure Bea wouldn’t object to staying a week.”

“Teddy wouldn’t mind either,” Remus said, “as long as he can still see Victoire.”

“We’re always happy to have you,” Lily said. “Harry, you and the kids are welcome to stay, too.”

“I’ll see what Ginny thinks,” Harry said. He could already hear her laugh in the dining room and wondered if she, too, was beginning a round of drinks.

“Thanks for being a good sport about today,” James said. “I know you’re not fond of surprises, so we’re grateful when you indulge us every once in a while.”

“Just promise me next year will actually be a small family dinner.”

“How can it?” asked Sirius. “Your family’s too big.”

“We’ll let Molly throw the big dinner party next year,” said Lily, “and we’ll just keep it us and the kids. And Ron and Hermione and Neville, if you’d like.”

“Even though that’s still, what, nearly twenty people?” Dora pointed out.

“Only half the size of the Weasleys,” Remus smiled.

“I would love just family next year,” Harry said, “please.”

He couldn’t be sure that they would listen, or even remember by the time this day arrived next year, and he supposed he couldn’t blame them. Regulus had a point: each birthday was one he shouldn’t have had. That carried a good deal of weight for Regulus, who had spent a long time expecting that Harry would have to face death. It had to carry a lot of weight for his parents, too, who had fought so hard to make sure that he survived.

Ron appeared at his side suddenly and dragged Harry into the dining room to do a round of shots of firewhisky.

Harry protested, but when Ginny passed him a small glass with her confident grin, Harry couldn’t say no. After Hermione gave a brief toast to Harry — a toast that he fidgeted through and prayed for his wordiest friend to suddenly find herself speechless — he, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Hannah, Cedric, and Christian all knocked back their glasses at once.

“We’re staying the night, then?” Harry asked as Ginny began to pour another round.

“The kids love kipping on the floor of the living room,” Ginny said. “Why not?”

Hermione declined a second glass. “I think we’ll go home.”

“And deny Hugo and Rose a sleepover with their cousins?” Ron asked as he accepted Ginny’s offer of another drink.

Ginny slid another set of glasses at Hannah, Neville, Cedric, and Christian, despite their protests.

“None of you have kids to worry about,” she said, “so indulge. Enjoy your childless youth.”

“We have been talking about it,” Neville protested.

“You’ve been talking about it for the last three years,” Harry said.

Hannah blushed and did her best to deflect the conversation. “What about you two?” she turned to Cedric and Christian. “You’re never having kids?”

“Christian doesn’t want them,” Cedric said with a shrug.

Christian suddenly knocked back the Firewhisky without waiting for everyone else and motioned for Ginny to pour him a third. “It’s not that I don’t want kids; it’s that I’m not going to have kids.”

Ginny slid a freshly filled glass back to Christian. “Rolf and Luna had kids.”

“I’m not Rolf.”

“Fair enough.”

“We don’t have kids,” Cedric tugged the glass out of Christian’s hands, “but we do have work in the morning.”

“He’s right,” Harry said. “Just because it’s off-season for you, Ginny, doesn’t mean the rest of us can take tomorrow off.”

“You’re not too old to go into work hungover yet,” she said. “If you are, I’m afraid I’ll just have to file for divorce.”

“Of all the side effects of ageing, that isn’t the one I thought you’d leave me for,” Harry laughed.

“A tragic end to our lengthy love affair.” She pulled him into a kiss; her breath was hot with cinnamon and pepper.

“One more drink,” Harry agreed as they separated, “but I’m going to check on the kids first.”

“Just follow the sounds of Exploding Snap,” Hermione said.

The small pop and shriek of a playful card game drew Harry across the entrance hall and back into the living room. James, Peter, Lily, Rose, and Hugo all sat on the floor around the low coffee table laughing as Hugo shook out the smouldering cards in his hand.

Del sat in the armchair, half-watching and half-reading a book Harry recognised from his Healing lessons with Sirius. Teddy and Victoire were curled up on the couch together, and Bea sat near the fireplace.

Harry scanned the room again in search of Violet, but he didn’t see her. Then he heard her footsteps on the stairs behind him.

“Oh — Harry —” she said, and hid something behind her back. “I thought you’d be with Ginny.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “If that’s a bottle of Firewhisky behind your back, you know you are eighteen now and I won’t stop you.”

She sheepishly pulled the bottle out. “I’m just so used to sneaking it after all these years — er — don’t tell Mum and Dad that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. As long as you promise James won’t get even a sip of it.”

“Merlin, I can’t imagine James with a drink in him. I’m glad I didn’t have to stay at Hogwarts long enough to see the Quidditch party where he tried his first drink.”

Harry hoped that would come later rather than sooner, though he was fairly certain he would have experimented in his fourth year if the Triwizard Tournament hadn’t consumed his attention.

As she tried to squeeze past him, he put a gentle hand on her wrist. “Hey — I heard about your Transfiguration N.E.W.T.”

“Merlin, Harry, it’s fine.”

“Is it?”

Violet chewed on her lower lip. “... Well, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to be Dad, you know.”

“I mean, I was never going to be you, so…” She tried to grin, but it wasn’t especially convincing.

“Vi…”

“I know. Really, I know. It’s just hard when you’re all so great, you know? I want to be all of it, too.”

“None of us are ‘all of it’ or we wouldn’t be what we are.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Do you know I’ve spent a lot of time wishing I was you?” Harry said.

Violet wrinkled her nose. “You don’t have to patronise me, Harry.”

“I’m not. I’m serious — I mean it, Violet,” he amended before she could get in a Sirius joke. “I really do. It’s not that I didn’t want to be an Auror, because I did, because Defence is something I’m good at and I want to keep doing good, but… Sometimes it doesn’t seem like there was any other choice. Not that I’m not happy — I am — but I don’t want you to pick something because you think you have to. Don’t go for Quidditch just because Dad did. And don’t try for a Potions shop because it’s what Mum would do, or a duelist because you think you have to out-duel me. And you really don’t have to be an Animagus just because Dad is.”

Violet bit down on her lip. “What if I don’t want to be an Animagus just because of Dad?”

“As long as you’re doing it for you, I think that’s alright.”

“Can’t I do it for someone else?”

Harry followed her gaze to the fireplace — to Bea. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Violet and Bea had been inseparable ever since they had arrived at Hogwarts, despite their sorting into Gryffindor and Slytherin.

“I suppose that’s what love is, isn’t it?”

Violet’s ears turned bright red and the colour filtered slowly into her cheeks. She elbowed him and hurried to join her friends.

Harry stayed long enough to watch Del, Teddy, Victoire, and Bea accept drinks from Violet, and to watch everyone break into laughter when the deck exploded in James’ face, singing his eyebrows.

Harry may not have made every choice in his life freely, but he was happy with where he had landed. This was a good place to be; it was a good life to have.

He rejoined his friends in the dining room, sandwiched by the laughter of his children in the living room and his parents in the kitchen, and immersed in the laughter of his friends.

And all was well.

[brutclhonesty]

★ spotted!! HART UNDERWOOD on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 28 year old looks like BRENTON THWAITES, but i don’t really see it. while the STUNT MAN is known for being BOLD my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be INTENSE i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song POMPEII by BASTILLE

details.

name: hart underwood

dob: january 17, 1995

zodiac: capricorn

face claim: brenton thwaites

gender identity: cis male

sexuality: heterosexual

profession: stunt man

hometown: portland, oregon

spoken languages: english

positive traits: brave, hard working, loyal, kind, determined

negative traits: impulsive, resentful, lost, chaotic, angry

about.

Hart Underwood was born into a family where his parents were mostly absent, leaving him and his older brother to fend for themselves. From a young age, Hart’s brother became his main caretaker, stepping in to provide the support and guidance their parents failed to offer. Although grateful for his brother’s care, Hart grew up feeling abandoned and resenting his parents for having children they were unprepared to raise. In high school, Hart excelled on the football field as the quarterback, driven by the hope of earning a college scholarship. However, when those dreams didn’t materialize due to poor grades, Hart faced a harsh reality. Without the scholarship, he didn’t go to college, and his lack of direction left him feeling lost and unsure of his future. This setback severely impacted his self-esteem, making him constantly question his worth and purpose. Hart’s search for meaning led him to Hollywood, where he took up a job as a stuntman. His career choice reflects his need for adrenaline and excitement, a way to escape from the numbness and depression that often weigh him down. Despite the thrill of his work, Hart still battles with his mental health, struggling with feelings of inadequacy and fear of failure. He remains close to his older brother, who has been his rock and source of stability throughout his turbulent life. At twenty-eight, Hart is known for his high-energy personality and daredevil stunts, but underneath that exterior, he harbors deep insecurities. He longs for love and a meaningful relationship but is haunted by the belief that he is too damaged to be a good partner. His history of feeling neglected and his ongoing mental health struggles make it hard for him to trust himself or others fully. He works a second job as a personal trainer for celebrities, which is how he forms a lot of his relationships. Otherwise, he's sort of reclusive. Hart’s positive traits include his bravery and resilience. His ability to pursue a challenging career as a stuntman shows his courage and determination to push through difficulties. His loyalty to his brother and his drive to find excitement in life reflect a deeper sense of hope despite his struggles. On the negative side, Hart’s mental health issues and low self-esteem often lead him to feel lost and unworthy. His resentment towards his parents and his difficulty in trusting himself in relationships add to his emotional burden. His need for constant adrenaline and partying can sometimes mask the deeper issues he faces, preventing him from fully addressing and healing from his past.

[angelicalbones]

I can't stop thinking about the amount of times I called off of work or came home early, or stayed glued to my phone bc my ex would tell me he wants to fucking off himself but wouldn't let me do anything keep him safe.

I told him I was going to make him work at his aunt and uncle's down the street so he was watched. I was called a bitch and cruel. I told him I would have to 5150 him then if he couldn't be left home alone bc I worked AM HOIR AWAY and I was called abusive and evil for that.

Even before then when I had no other option but either stay home or live in fear I would call off work to watch him. I had to drive him to and from work more than fucking once to make sure he didn't drive into traffic.

I had to halt my work day and hide in bathrooms to not get caught texting him as he had mental breakdowns in parking lots over going into work.

I have always struggled to hold down a job bc of my own mental health. Being medicated now has helped astronomically but looking back I can't help but realize how much he fucking contributed to me failing at work. I was already struggling severely in my own right by my own fault and then I was babysitting a man nearly 6 years my senior every hour of every day.

Did I ever get a single thank you? Or acknowledgement? No. It was expected of me. And if I pushed him too hard I was being evil and uncaring. If I was too soft I wasn't supporting him correctly. I was always fucking in the wrong despite dismantling my entire life around him.

Nearly a decade of taking myself apart piece by piece to suit exactly what he needed and never being enough .

[jdetan]

A Destiny, Retold in Time - Chapter 24

Zelda has been fatally wounded and is seconds from death. Can Link possibly save her life, or has Ganondorf won?

Master, I’m not detecting a heartbeat. Fi said, grimly. My counterpart– please hurry. Understood. Enacting emergency life preservation protocol. Zelda’s sword glowed gold, and her body was encased in an amber crystal that formed from the sword, which held tight around her body, keeping further blood from leaking out. Metabolism slowed to the lowest survivable rate. Master. Her life is fading quickly. If you wish to save her, you must place her in the Spring of Wisdom, hidden at the top of this mountain, before her injuries proceed too far to be repaired. You have precisely twenty-seven minutes and thirty five seconds before the preservation fails and her life is lost. I am projecting the directions to you. Fi said, purpose clear in her voice. “Understood!” Link carefully lifted Zelda and took off running, holding her tightly to his chest as he did. “I estimate it will take you twenty six minutes to reach the Spring. Please hurry, master.” Fi said, her projection appearing alongside Link. “I’ll use everything I have to keep your stamina up! Go!” Navi said, pouring restorative magic into Link. “Don’t worry about anything other than Zelda!” Monsters hopped out, trying to attack Link, but he kicked them or tackled them out of the way. Farore’s Wind flared up as he leapt up paths rather than running along them. Twenty minutes. Link could see a little timer in the corner of his vision, projected there by Fi. He pushed himself harder, hearing Navi groan as she had to work harder to keep him moving. He’d feel guilty about that later. Right now, saving Zelda’s life was all that mattered. Fifteen minutes. Summoned by his thoughts, an endurance potion manifested in his hands, and he downed it in a second. He ran faster. He couldn’t lose her. He’s lost so much already– his mentor, his childhood friend, a future home that he’d hoped to share with Zelda… he’d be damned if he lost HER, too! Ten minutes. Where was this blasted spring? He leapt up a small collapsed area, never stumbling, never dropping Zelda. The directions showed it was fairly close now… he stole a look at her, visible in the crystal, her head leaned back and her face peaceful, looking like she was in a deep sleep rather than seconds from death. Even now, she was beautiful— Link couldn’t let her die! Five minutes. There! Down in a hidden crater! Now he just had to get there safely! No… he just had to get ZELDA there safely. He leapt down, landing hard on his right leg and feeling it buckle. Another healing potion– the last one he hadn’t had a chance to use yet– appeared in his hand and he drank it, running despite the pain of his bones knitting back together. Any pain he suffered was meaningless as long as she was safe. Two minutes. He reached the Spring, and placed Zelda carefully in the waters. “What now, Fi?” He called out. Call out to the goddess Hylia and ask her– Fi began. “Got it! Goddess Hylia, your vessel Zelda has been gravely wounded! Please, restore her to health!” Nothing seemed to happen. One minute. “Hylia! Heal her, please! She’s dying!” Thirty seconds. Link fell to his knees, crying into the water. “Please… please don’t take my Zelda away…” Zero seconds. The crystal shattered, and Zelda’s body dropped into the shallow pool of water, lying still. Link fell forward weeping. I failed her… he thought, looking at Zelda’s face, pale and unmoving. I failed her and now I’ll never hear her voice again… Read the Rest on Ao3!