#she mostly has silver jewelry though and i can make that work but my complexion is very befitting gold

[iphisesque]

my mom was a total masc style icon when she was in her early 20s and her clothes from the era are SO iconic i love raiding her closets and jewelry boxes. i got my favourite ring and my signature leather jacket from her wardrobe

[rebellconquerer]

“It’s really not that complicated.”

For Sarah and Sam

Another prompt fill. Will be crossposted to AO3. And to the anon that sent in the request today, yes! My inbox is still and always open for more.

Sarah sighs to herself, digging even further into the bottom of her bag. She knows she has it somewhere. It lives in her handbag during the summer for just this reason.

“Hey mom, can we go into Crescent City Comic? Please?” AJ asks from somewhere along her right side.

She knows the damn fan is in there. Lipstick, chapstick, book, ah! She pulls her hand out and gives a frustrated huff. Old papers, still not the fan.

“Mom?”

“Huh? Um, yeah, sure. Don’t wander off from there though, you hear me? You either stay there or come right back,” she’s all but yelling at his retreating back as he runs the half block towards the store, holding his brother’s hand and dodging in between the crowd of people on the streets.

Sarah shakes her head smiling to herself as her hand finally, mercifully brushes against her fan. She lets out a small sound of success as she pulls it out of the bag, unhooks it and starts fanning herself. The gentle wind, even if it is as muggy as the rest of the mid morning heat, is a welcome reprieve. She turns back to the vendors lining the street, fanning herself slowly as she surveys the various bits of jewelry on display, in the market for a new set of earrings perhaps.

She’d all but dragged the lot of them out to the La Gente music and street festival in the Lower Garden this morning. Sam and Bucky had come back from their last trek to DC almost a day ago in a foul mood. She isn’t exactly sure what happened but from what she has gathered they had a mission go bad, monumentally so, and when they came back there had been insinuations that it was because Jame- Bucky was leaking information, like a double agent or whatever. Utterly ridiculous. Sam said Bucky responded very calmly to the allegation. Sam had not.

It had kind of surprised her that Bucky had come back with Sam in the first place. She’s gotten more used to him being around but it tends to be for a specific event or before they go out for work, not after. But even with her limited knowledge of him, just looking at him when they arrived Sarah could tell he was… upset. Something about the calmness and stillness he carried in his frame that was just… not right. Her brother had done the right thing bringing him home and she’s kinda glad Bucky had let himself be brought back to Louisiana.

She shakes her head, moving away from the stall, she should probably not have him on her mind as much as she does but… there is just something about him, something behind his eyes that tells you there is so much more going on than just what you see.

‘And there is a lot to see’ a voice that sounds suspiciously like her best friend’s whispers in the back of her head, so of course, that’s when she notices him across the street.

He’s standing by three ancient-looking old men and one very smitten looking teenager. Sarah laughs, she can’t blame the teen. James wears henleys very well and this dark grey one is no exception. Plus he has the buttons around the neck unbuttoned just enough so that you can see a glint of his dog tags when he moves… yeah, Sarah pities the poor girl.

Sarah very deliberately does not go to him (she’s an adult, she does not get crushes on her big brother’s friends anymore) and heads to the fruit stall next to where he’s standing. She catches a little snippet of the conversation before the band starts up and has to ignore the little flip her heart does because he’s speaking fluent Spanish to his old people group and the words sound mouth-watering on his tongue.

She shakes her head a little violently, returning her focus to picking out ripe fruits. She is not interested.

Guajira, I love you too much

Guajira, I love you too much

“What you up to, sis?” Sam asks, out of nowhere. Only years of being a mother to tiny humans with quiet steps keep her from jumping.

“What does it look like, smart ass?” she replies, yelling just a bit to be heard over the band.

Sam frowns as he watches her pick out mangoes. “I don’t like mangoes,” he tells her like she doesn’t already know.

“These aren’t for you. AJ loves them, as does Cass. And I cook with them sometimes.” she says, picking out four and twirling the bag closed, the beat of the music is infectious as she begins to sway.

“Then why not get more?” Sam asks, poking at the nearest, clearly unripe mango. He’s such a child.

“They are almost 5 dollars for one. Too expensive.”

Sam scoffs. “Everything is negotiable.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. Her brother always thinks he knows best. This wasn’t a pop-up. She knew this stand. “Mr Gonzalez would negotiate, but his daughter, Benita, is a hard ass. I’ve never gotten her to sell anything for a cent less than advertised.” Sarah finishes pointing at the woman in question.

Oye Guajira, so nice to meet ya

Next time I see ya, we gon’ roll some reefer

Sam does a little salsa two-step and a spin, grabbing her bag of mangoes from her hand. “Let’s see shall we?” he says, plastering on a ridiculous smile and walking into the store.

Sarah huffs out a laugh crossing her arms as she watches Sam sidle up to Benita.

“Why does he look like he’s up to something?” Jam- Bucky asks from beside her. She doesn’t look over at him.

“That’s how he always looks, his face has been stuck like that since we were kids. I told him it would happen,” she mutters mostly to get a laugh out of James. It works, the sound sending a pleasant warmth rolling down her spine.

She risks a glance over at him, and with the smile on his face, it’s dangerous.

“You left your friends behind? Are they all actually your age?” she asks, gesturing to his little old people group still standing a ways behind them with her chin.

He glances over his shoulder at them. “Hey it’s not my fault no one in the younger age group seems to know anything about baseball,” he replies. “Gotta take good conversation where I can get it.”

“Oh it must be so hard for you, poor baby.” she teases.

His eyes meet hers with a small smirk “Easier when I’m with you.” he replies lightly.

Sarah’s grin widens as she tries not to let him get to her head.

“Quite the silver tongue James- sorry. I mean Bucky!” She corrects almost immediately, feeling her face heat up. God, she can’t even get his name right, she clearly shouldn’t be flirting with him.

But he only laughs.

“You always seem to prefer James,” he states with a hint of question in his tone.

She shrugs, the embarrassment still making her feel a little off-kilter. “It’s a nice name, but I know you prefer Bucky.”

His smile gets real. “No one’s really called me James outside of my family, and that was a long time ago,” he says, eyes going distant and unfocused for a minute before he looks back over at her. “But if you like James, you should call me that.”

She has never been more grateful for her dark complexion and inability to turn red as she is at this moment. “No- no I couldn’t. You prefer Bu-”

“It sounds good coming from you. I like it,” he says with finality, that life-altering, heart-stopping smirk back on his face and honestly what can she do but smile back at him?

Brother, it’s true, no doubt she’s flawless

Her love’s a drug, she was getting me yo

“I told you, I’d get it done. Does your big brother keep his promises or what?” Sam says, interrupting their gazing and their smiling.

She looks over to him, pushing the dazed smile off her face.

“4 mangoes for ten dollars, a permanent 10% off produce for the restaurant and-” Sam says, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket with a flourish. “Her number.”

Sarah stares in astonishment. “How the hell did you do that, Sam?”

He shrugs, lips twitching as he fights the smile forcing its way onto his face. “It’s really not that complicated, Sarah. I am very good looking,” he says, finally giving in to that gap-toothed smile.

Both her and James groan dramatically, turning to walk away from him.

“Great, he’ll be insufferable now.” James whispers, ducking in close to her, his proximity dizzying.

She laughs as Sam overtakes them, salsa-ing ridiculously by himself as he walks in front of them and singing along with the band.

“Guajira, I love you too much”

[onionjulius]

Hello Onion! I hope you’re having a splendid day and a happy holiday if you celebrate Thanksgiving! I’ve come back to ask you some more questions regarding Ned and Cat. I really admired your idea about them exchanging gifts. I would also love to know if you have any favorite ideas or fashion inspiration for their wedding clothes? I love the idea of Ned wearing his house colors (but mostly white) and Cat in her house colors, but thought I’d see what your ideas were!-Sunfyre

Hello Sunfyre! Please pardon my tardiness, final exams are giving me pains!!!

If you celebrate, hope you had a fun and reflective Thanksgiving as well :D Mine was delicious.

FASHION INSPIRATION AHHHH. So, I’m torn here because my head says that Cat would want to fit in with her married house and be a `;*bride of winter*;` but my heart says THIS IS THE LAST TIME SHE’LL BE A RIVERLANDER LET HER GO OUT LIKE ONE. It’d also make for a nice visual contrast if she looks warmer and livelier next to somber, wintery Ned.

A winter look would focus on silver, I think, since that’s on the Tully sigil and is close to grey, whereas for a more autumnal look I could see like a cream or pale yellow/gold base with touches of a autumnal Tully red.

I’m actually also in love with this rusty rose pink color and think pink is an underused color for Cat, although maybe her complexion is already too pinkish. But a dark and warm pink would sit in between her skin tone and her hair color and I think that would, as the kids say, slap:

Even a peach color could be fun?

OKAY SO WHAT ABOUT THIS.

What if the color of the dress becomes cooler as you go down. Like, maybe there’s an overlay on the skirt that has solid dags of silver or white that kind of intrude on the warmer color as you go up the dress. Or maybe not dags but, like, some way in which the winter color travels up the skirt of the dress and looks like it’s CLAIMING it because winter is coming D: Perhaps a sheer overlay with some white beadwork or sashes curving upward or IDK!! Or just embroidered snow flurries that swoosh upward from the bottom. Or more simply, a feminine kinda surcoat might accomplish the same thing? This is totally not accurate to medieval fashion, I am sure, but tbh I don’t think GRRM is either because his descriptions seem more romantic than medieval and it’s fantasy anyway and I’m kind of down with riffing on semi-historic design. (TBH I don’t even know if they had pink in medieval European clothes? Maybe that’s just what you get with an incomplete wash of a red color. IDK!)

Or maybe that’s too detailed XD I don’t wanna stifle your creativity!!!! If I had one takeaway I guess it’s that I’m not really seeing her in blue, I think I “reserve” blue for Lysa in my head for that day because of the Arryn thing.

I do rather love the idea of something once alive in Cat’s hair, obviously flowers are a possibility but …… OK what do you think of, like stalks of wheat or some other grain? Or rather than big blooms, what about a flower more like amaranth?

(Imma be straight with you, I had burgundy amaranths at my wedding and am this close to projecting here. Not prescribing the color above BTW, fantasy plants FTW.)

If there was a way to have autumn leaves in one’s hair without them crumbling apart, that’d be so cool …. I mean, godswood leaves are red though??!! But would it be perceived as disrespectful to use them in a decorative way like that? IDK IDK. 

OR, maybe a white flower would be better in the hair just because it’s better contrast and ties in with Ned’s white. YEAH YOU KNOW WHAT … that makes sense, doesn’t it? 

As for hair style, part of me really likes the big thick braid on the shoulder look, a la Audrey’s piece here. But part of me also has never gotten over the Eowyn funeral updo and I think Cat could rock some variation of that.

If we’re being really “accurate” or at least spiritually in tune, I guess she’d cover her hair with a caul or hennin or something but not sure GRRM ever mentions those.

I don’t honestly see her wearing a lot of jewelry, but a single silver pendant might be nice? IDK if it can be, like, silver worked in the shape of a wolf and fish going all yin yang about each other. But that’s a small detail XD

As for Ned, I know GRRM had him wear a doublet in AGOT and doublets are western European things … but maybe it could be inspired by some Slavic looks? Like the asymmetrical collar perhaps, with old god runes on the hems. TBH haven’t mapped out the different regions of Westeros to different real-world regional fashions, there’s so many options and I get overloaded D: I think it’d be a heavy fabric like velvet FWIW, to stay warm. Not sure how that affects the look!

I think more in my head I just see the ~vibe~ rather than the specifics, so for Ned, something really straight and strong, proper without the fussiness, but not just leather and furs as in the TV show we do not name. Not floofy. But still a little blingy, like maybe wolf head clasps made out of IDK agate or something. 

This is all I have for now, I’ve got to get back to studying, but if I think of more I will add!

[we-be-writing-bts-stuff]

The Alley

 Pairing: ???????

Plot: Where a girl’s irrational fears aren’t so irrational.

Warnings: Blood, violence, drinking. It’s vampires. 

Genre: Horror with some fluff.

Word Count: 2688

A/N: This is revamped from what was previously up. I have added to it and hope you all enjoy. It’s also experimental since I don’t name any of the characters. The characters were based on BTS members so go in thinking that and I’m sure you’ll know who I have where since I use their more identifiable traits. ~Bagel

The wind cut through her coat as she walked down the street while the rain clattered on the pavement around her feet. The short black cocktail dress she was wearing doing nothing to keep her warm and her coat soaked through by now. Making it nearly useless in this weather but it was still better than nothing. She looked up for a few seconds to make sure she was still going the right way and not going to run into anything. She heaves a sigh of relief when she sees no one around her. It was well past midnight and the only thing piercing through the darkness was the street lamps overhead. The fear and darkness causing her to jump at any given sound or movement she saw in the corner of her eye. Most had to be just figments of her imagination and tricks of the light or the stray animals that were trying to find shelter from the rain, but that didn’t help her nerves. Still jumping at every little thing as she continues down the last few blocks.

You’re just imagining things. Keep looking forward. You’ll be home soon enough. She chants in her head. Even though it would do almost nothing to ease her nerves.

She stops walking once she reaches the unlit alley. The blackness bleeding through to the street and seemingly swallowing anything that came near it. Her mind starts to run rampant with the possibilities of what lurks within. She gathers her courage and takes a deep breath, quickly running across to the other side. Her heels clacking loudly on the cement and the air in her lungs release when she’s past the darkness. Taking a minute to regain herself before she continues to her apartment building only a few blocks away. Swearing she felt eyes watching her after she passed that alley, not daring to look back in case she was right.

_____________

It was the next day when the news started to flash pictures of that same alley and the body found there. Its blood being drained, and shoulder torn apart. Causing her to panic further and become more paranoid. Getting to the point that she avoids the alley completely. Even if it takes longer to get home each and every day from work. Not going out as late as she normally does on the weekends or going home alone. Mostly making friends or coworkers walk with her to the building if she had to pass the alley. She was always thankful and appreciative of them doing so. Even going as far as trying to find a new apartment, but nothing was within walking distance of her work and still in her budget.

She would soon relax and feel more comfortable over the weeks and months. Whether it was from having others with her or becoming more accustomed with the alley, so the threat didn’t seem so overwhelming, she wasn’t sure. Or it could be that there were no more incidents in all of that time, but all she knew was that there was less anxiety with the alley when there were people. 

_____________

She soon meets a happy boy that lives down the hallway from her. He has a boxy smile and constantly changes his hair. Dying it to random colors that cause her to smile and the days to become brighter. She soon learns his name and talks with him every chance she gets. Soon spending more and more time with him. Going on dates and building a good relationship, having shared giggles and kisses, hushed words and stolen glances. He treats her like a queen and gives her everything she could need or want. She feels bad and tells him as such, and yet he still gifts her things just on a smaller scale and less frequent to make her feel better. Soon getting couples jewelry of gold and gemstones. He avoids wearing silver, claiming that he had an allergy to it. His skin reacting and resulting in a rash that wouldn’t go away for days.

She saw this first hand when she wore a silver bracelet her mom gave her. His hand touching the chain and causing him to lurch back. 

He lets his hair grow out because an off-hand comment where she said she liked longer hair on him. Letting it grow long enough to flop around when he shook his head. Putting it in several small ponytails to make her laugh. He would do anything to make her happy and see her smile. Even if it meant that he was acting like a fool and acting like an idiot.

The only weird thing was that he rarely ate or drank around her. Always deflecting it by saying he wasn’t hungry or that he already ate. Wrapping his arms around her and placing a kiss on the top of her head. She didn’t question it too much, since they didn’t live together, and she wasn’t around him all of the time. She assumed that he just ate when they were apart which was often. He very well could be telling the truth and she trusted him. There was no reason for her to feel otherwise or doubt him. He did nothing but make her smile and do everything that he could for her.

_____________

More time went on and they fell more in love. He helped to distract her from the dark alley and the fears that came from her irrational mind. He made up fantastical stories that she would just laugh off while listening with a close ear as they walked by. Distracting her from the noises and assuring her that her fears were unfounded. Even pulling her into it once to give her a secret kiss or two. Showing and proving that good things could happen in the dark as well as bad things. The moonlight shining through and painting his silhouette in silver and shadows. Smiling and reaching up, she wraps her arms around his neck. Pulling him down for more affection. 

_____________

The secret meetings become more and more public. Soon they officially start to date, and the alley becomes an afterthought. The darkness nothing more than to provide a small reminder of the childish thoughts of what lies within. The monsters and ghouls that hide there are nothing more than a distant memory. Everything he does is only to prove her wrong of those worries after meeting him. The night soon becoming her safe haven. The only time where she could relax with the gangly and happy boy that she was falling in love with. The one she let down her guard and walls for. The one that was seeing the most authentic version of herself.

Sharing more giggles and kisses, love and dreams. Sharing all of the time she could before the sun would rise and they would both have to leave each other for the 9 to 5 grind that they both had to endure to keep what they have and to enjoy the time they had away from it.  

_____________

It’s been almost a year since the body was found. No one was arrested for the murder. In fact, the whole crime was forgotten by the public within the first month. No one talked about it anymore. It even got pushed back to the back of her mind after all this time. 

The boy that was now her boyfriend waving her off and kissing her goodbye this morning. Talking about how he needed to get a haircut and re-dye the roots to the blondish brown he had currently since he had the day off. She bid him farewell and got through the work day. Coming home only for a few moments to change and fix her makeup before leaving to go see some of her friends. Have some fun and let loose to start off the weekend. 

__________________

She drank a little too much and was a little too careless. Walking home for the first time in a while alone and in front of the alley that still caused a small pit to form in her stomach. But tonight, she didn’t care. Ignoring the feeling that she made a bad decision by being alone. It was a celebration and she was happy. She had several drinks and dinner with a few of her friends.  The alcohol causing a nice buzz to run through her veins. She left the restaurant before the sun even fully set. Brilliant oranges and reds and pinks painting the sky as she walked home from the party.

She didn’t hear the shuffling of someone behind her. She didn’t see the movement in the corner of her eye. Clouds start to form overhead and darken the day into the night as the sun dips below the buildings and horizon. Hiding the Sun or the Moon from shining their light onto her path. She didn’t notice or have a care in the world when a man came up to her. Only giggling and saying goodbye to the boy on the other end of the call. Finally jumping when a hand falls onto her shoulder once she hung up and the line went silent. She turns around and sees a handsome man smiling at her. Hair perfectly styled and dyed an unnatural grey, but still looked good against his pale complexion. His eyes a piercing blue and she smiles along with him. His dimples showing through to her. She feels a strange pull towards him and a sense of calm falling over her. Something she didn’t feel around anyone, but the man that she loved.

“I’m sorry to be a bother, but can you help me find this hotel. I think I’m lost.” His voice washes over her and she smiles back. It was rough and low. A comforting lilt to it that brought her in.

“Um sure. Where do you need to go?” She giggles back. Taking in his sharp features and nearly perfect set of teeth. His eyes seem to flash to a red but are back to normal in a second. Maybe it was just my imagination. She thinks to herself. Smile barely faltering.

“Well it's the Marriott. I would really appreciate if you helped to guide me there.” He pleas. She feels a shiver run down her spine. Something telling her to run far away from him, but the alcohol and societal conditioning of always being nice planting her to her spot and making the decision for her to help the man that was slowly making her feel more and more uneasy. 

“That’s quite a ways away from here. Let’s see. Um…. I believe if you go down the street this way and then turn right until you reach 6th. And then you want….” He chuckles and grabs the hand she was gesturing with to help explain the way he needed to go. The words coming out in a slight slur and she was swaying in her spot. 

“I’m bad with directions. It would be easier for you just to show me.” He presses. Smile ever present and looking behind him. She looks around and sees no one else on the street. She tries to pull away her hand. His grip only tightens around her and pulls her closer. Pleading with his eyes for her to come. She suddenly wishes she didn’t stop and engage with him. Or least bring her pepper spray. Looking around for a quick way out. 

“I’m sorry, but I need to get going.” She tells him once more. “I have someone waiting for me,” yanking her arm away once more only for his gaze to harden and his true colors to show. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” He hisses. Clamping his free hand on her mouth and pulling her into him. Dragging her into the alley as his hold becomes nearly unbearable as it tightens around her. His now elongated canines glint with the gentle moonlight. The clouds clearing for long enough for her to notice the change. Eyes shining an inhuman blood red instead of the initial chocolate brown. Tearing into her shoulder and starting to draw the life from her. She fights as much as she can. Causing more damage to herself than the attacker. Her nails seemingly just an annoyance to him rather than a hindrance as she tears at his clothes and skin. Red angry marks being left on the skin she catches, but he doesn’t even flinch when she eventually breaks the skin. 

He lets up on the initial bite only to sink his teeth in once again at her neck. This time in a messier and more frenzied fashion. His long nails easily separating the flesh of her arms and torso. Doing what he can to stop her from moving. Something scares him off sooner than he wanted. Leaving her still semi-conscious and able to think on the event as the blood continues to flow. Staining the ground around her as the freshly started rain starts to wash it away. The ebb and flow of the darkness surrounding her vision and soon falling around her.

___________

She lays there on the ground. Not knowing how long she’s been there. Drifting in and out of consciousness. Rain falling and the wind howling almost exactly like that night that feels like a lifetime ago. Bleeding profusely and although she knew she should be in pain, all that she felt was a cold numbness at this point. Idly thinking if someone would find her. Will I be on the news like that other body long ago? Would people ever find who did this? Will anyone come and look for me? She muses in the dark. Her mind an eerie calm and thinking surprisingly clear after everything that has happened. Looking next to her she couldn’t help but laugh bitterly when she saw an ominous figure walk into the blackness that surrounded her. All of her fears being reaffirmed. The night only a year ago flashes into her mind along with the event that caused her to be in this position. Finding it ironic that her worst fear was coming to life while she was laying there helplessly. “Just make it stop.” She tells the black figure. Looking up to it with pleading eyes. The closer the shadow gets the easier it is to see and make out what it is. A tall male with shaggy sandy brown hair and familiar chocolate brown eyes. He seemed like a giant from her position on the ground. The name of her lover playing on the tip of her lips.

“I’ll help you.” A deep and smooth voice says. It seems familiar and comforting like the eyes, but she is unable to pinpoint where she knows it. Brain too hazy from the blood loss and previous pain to function right. She’s just barely able to realize that the voice belongs to the stranger that is now looming over her. He picks her up and walks farther into the dreaded black once more. Only grunting when he shifts and presses on the wound. She starts to feel colder and more distant. Almost as if she’s watching everything happening and not experiencing. “It’ll get better. I’m sorry.” That’s the last thing that she hears before feeling a set of sharp canines digging into the delicate skin of her wrist. Giving out one last cry before her sight goes black for the last time. Fully welcoming the darkness for the first time. Hearing the male’s deep voice talking to her as she fully fades. Sitting and waiting for her heartbeat to fade into almost nothing before sneaking back into the apartment. Making it seem as if she was only sleeping to any people that may see the two of them. The coat he wore out to find her covering the majority of the gore. Only to wait for her eyes to reopen. Hoping that she understands what happens and that he made the right decision. Having to kill her to save her from the darkness that she was so terrified of.

[whimsicaldragonette]

Romancing the Sorcerer’s Stone Part 1 (of 24)

Summary: After the war, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter fall into a strangely comfortable partnership as treasure hunters. Draco turns up rumors of Dark artifacts and cursed treasure through his mostly-legal antiques business; Harry tracks down said treasure. As time goes on, they spend more and more time dashing about the world in search of treasure together.Draco's wife Astoria and Harry's fiancee Ginny wistfully watch them dash in and out of their lives, always focused on one another. The Weasleys look on in fond exasperation.

Rating: T

Notes: This story is told in three interwoven parts. Golden Snitches is Harry / Draco POV. Silver Stars is Ginny/Astoria POV. Weasleys is mostly Ron POV, with a few others here and there. The chapter title indicates which part/POV the chapter is in.

It is complete at 24 chapters: I will be posting a chapter (or two, if they're short) each Monday and Thursday.

Thanks to @ryanthedemiboy for alpha reading and @altergravity for beta reading

Part 1~ Part 2~  Part 3~ Part 4~ Part 5~ Part 6~ Part 7~ Part 8~ Part 9~ Part 10~ Part 11~ Part 12~ Part 13~ Part 14~ Part 15~ Part 16~ Part 17~ Part 18~ Part 19~ Part 20~ Part 21~ Part 22~ Part 23~ Part 24~

-Part 1: Golden Snitches-

June 2001 — Paris, France

It’s a dead end.

The old jeweler, obviously senile, natters on vaguely about oceans and sapphires as he reclines comfortably in an overstuffed chair pulled up by the counter. Draco seethes, focusing all of his willpower into not fidgeting while pretending to listen. The trail goes cold here, in this dusty jeweler’s shop that ought to have closed thirty years ago. Three years he’s been chasing rumors and tantalizing scraps of information, and all for nothing; three years wasted.

He won’t give up this easily. He’ll pick Potter’s brain again about that last informant — he knew he should have handled that one himself, but how was he supposed to know that the man would turn out to be reliable this time? — and revisit their notes. Surely something will turn up. This can’t be the end.

And it isn’t.

A whiff of perfume tickles his nostrils and the jeweler’s daughter is there, suddenly, standing too close, materializing out of the air beside him without seeming to have moved from her place behind the till.

“Buy something,” she whispers, “so we can talk.” She slips past him, sashaying her hips, and hovers at her father’s side. Her eyes, as she tucks his blanket around his slippered feet and does up another button on his cardigan, are cold and sharp as knives.

Draco looks around, calculating. He owes Astoria; he’s canceled yet another dinner for this trip. His father taught him when he was very young that apology jewels are the grease that keeps society’s wheels spinning; he learned his lesson well.

The wooden display cases glow a warm honey-gold, dripping with jewels and intricately worked silver… But nothing in them will suit Astoria, and he frowns. Might Pansy like this jade necklace? He studies it, tipping his head to the side, imagining her slipping the carved beads through pale, aristocratic fingers, like a monk with a rosary.

They’re not quite right, though — too much yellow. They’ll turn Pansy’s skin sallow, and she’s rather vain about her complexion.

So. What else? He spins slowly in place, but nothing in the shop appeals and the jeweler is beginning to take an interest. His daughter’s eyes flash a warning. She’s clearly not the shy, dutiful daughter he’d first thought her.

Draco is about to risk speaking to her without intending to purchase anything — perhaps he can excuse it by asking to see one of the more delicate pieces in the glass case she’s polishing? — when he sees them.

The glittering emeralds spark and flare as a ray of afternoon light strikes them, and he feels drawn inexorably toward them. He’d thought at first they were earrings, but as he reaches them he discovers that they are cufflinks, exquisite square emeralds set in delicately carved silver, studded with diamonds.

He can’t take his eyes away from the light dancing across the surface.

“These,” he says softly, and his voice comes out strained, a little rough. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’ll take these, please.”

“A lovely choice,” the girl says, blinking up at him from far too close, large sapphire eyes shining as she takes the cufflinks out and begins to wrap them. “They suit you.”

Draco doesn’t correct her, but these aren’t for him. No, these are destined for Potter. He feels a momentary flutter of anxiety. They don’t buy jewels for one another, as a rule, nor has he ever seen Potter wearing jewelry but… it’s Potter’s wedding. Soon, he thinks, a bit surprised. He’d not realized. But Potter’s appearance at such a public affair reflects on Draco as well, and so he’ll just have to see to it that Potter is properly attired. And these cufflinks are the exact shade of Potter’s eyes.

He’s not sure why he knows the exact shade of Potter’s eyes, nor why he can never seem to pass up anything that color. He tells his family and friends that green is his favorite color, which it is; Slytherin green, of course. He does his best to ignore the knowing and faintly pitying looks they send him as he hands out his gifts: a luxurious green cashmere scarf for Mother, an emerald cravat pin for Father, a bolt of green silk for Astoria. They all act like they know something he doesn’t — something he doesn’t acknowledge, anyway — and he willfully ignores all of it. He just likes green, dammit.

He shakes his head, dislodging faint misgivings that perhaps he ought occasionally choose something other than emerald green. It’s a perfectly lovely color, that’s all.

The girl smirks at him as he blinks, startled to find himself in the dusty jeweler’s shop, still.

“Will that be all, sir?” she asks, one brow raised in amusement.

“Er, yes. Yes, that’s all.” He follows her to the counter, leans closer to inspect the proffered box.

She lowers her voice, glances around at her father, then beckons him even closer.

“You’re here about the blood diamond,” she whispers, and Draco’s eyes widen.

“Yes,” he whispers back, hardly daring to hope.

She fiddles with the paper as she re-wraps the cufflinks, sapphire eyes winking up at him from under the silky fall of her dark hair. “It will cost you.”

He flashes a roll of muggle bills, angling his body so they’re not visible to the jeweler or the shop windows. “Will this do?”

“It’s not here,” she says quickly, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course it’s not here. “I mean,” she says, “I don’t know everything. My father would have, but he’s not himself these days. But he had a friend — if he told anyone, it would be him.”

“Where can I find him?” Draco’s hopes, so recently forced down, leap irrepressibly to the surface.

“He owns a jewelers in Barcelona,” the girl whispers, glancing again at her father. “Or he did. I don’t know if he’s still there, mind, but I can give you his name. I’m afraid I don’t know the name of the shop.” Her breath is hot against his cheek, faintly garlic-scented.

She produces a pencil from somewhere behind the counter, scribbles on a slip of paper. The bell over the door chimes.

“That’ll be 400 Euros,” she says, a little louder, glancing at the newcomers.

Draco fishes another roll of muggle bills from his pocket and counts out the proper change. He makes sure the girl sees the extra bills he slips under the stack as he passes it over.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling winningly at him.

Draco smiles back distractedly as he tucks the box and paper into the inside pocket of his jacket and strolls out into the sunshine, whistling a merry tune.

He can see her sapphire eyes trained on him, through the window, and her plump lips are pursed into a seductive pout — but she’s really not his type, he thinks, mind already ranging far ahead. Her eyes are too blue.

Barcelona. He can work with that. But first, he’ll have to stop in at the office and see if Sarah can wheedle an express international Portkey out of her contact at the Ministry.

He meanders down the street, peering into shop windows, then ducks into the mouth of a narrow alley and disapparates.

It isn’t until later, lounging in his hotel room with a glass of wine and the day’s notes, that he realizes Astoria’s eyes are the same shade of blue.

June 2001 — Barcelona, Spain

 Draco strolls along the bustling street, sipping his too-sweet iced-coffee and enjoying the way the breeze ruffles his hair. It’s early in the day, but already warm enough that the collar of his white linen shirt sticks to his neck and he can feel sweat beading at his hairline. He stares wide-eyed at the fantastic architecture, the arches and turrets and tile mosaics, drinking it all in. There’s nothing like this back home in dreary old England; this feels almost tropical.

Draco doesn’t try to hide his pleasure and astonishment; he’d dropped the stiff Malfoy mask after the war. There’d seemed no point in trying to keep it intact. Even his parents had loosened up, after the Ministry had taken the Manor. Good riddance, as far as he’s concerned. He’d gotten out most of the furnishings, and that, along with their accounts on the continent, had given him his antiques business and a comfortable and cheery townhouse on the outskirts of Wizarding London. He and Astoria share it with his parents, and the arrangement suits them all. Draco isn’t often there, lately, and Astoria and his mother keep one another company.

He passes a mural whose turquoise and white swirls remind him of peacock feathers, and he hopes, not for the first time, that at least one of his father’s birds had bitten the smarmy Ministry representative when she’d come to take possession of the Manor. He doesn’t regret for a second his inability to get the infuriating birds out. His father alone misses the bloody things.

He sighes, thinking of the soaring marble columns and intricate tile floors of his childhood home. He’d loved the Manor as a child, all that fine gilt and crystal, but the Dark Lord has irrevocably tainted it in his mind. He considers himself well shot of it, and of the manners and expectations that went with it.

He pauses at the top of a rise, gazing out over the colorful open-air market below, the white walls and red tile roofs, the gently swaying palm trees, the sunlight sparkling off white sand and crystal-blue water. He draws in a deep breath of the humid, salty air and absently thinks he’ll have to bring Potter here one day; it seems like the sort of place he’d like.

Then he remembers that he’s promised Pansy something from this trip, to make up for missing their last three planned evenings, and grimaces. Salazar. There’s nothing for it — he’ll have to pick up something for her while he’s here. He turns, intending to go back to the boutiques near his hotel when a flash of green makes him pause.

The market spills over into the street here, a riot of color and noise. One of the vendors at the edge of the throng has racks of richly patterned silk scarves on display; they flutter enticingly in the light breeze. They’re too gaudy, most of them, but — there. That one; it’s perfect.

The emerald-green silk faintly glows in the warm light, rippling print suggestive of shady forest canopies, moss and ferns. It will look lovely against Pansy’s sleek dark bob and the vibrant red-orange lipstick she favors these days.

He buys it, not even bothering to haggle with the surprised merchant, then walks on, slipping the neat bundle into his pocket. He can’t afford to dally too long here, or Blaise will surely beat him to the diamond.

—

He strides away from the third jeweler’s shop in disgust. How many jewelers can there be in this sodding town? A familiar itch between his shoulder blades niggles at him. He’s being watched.

He pauses at the next shop, pretending to study the wares on offer as he watches the reflection of the street behind him in the glass. Nothing.

Frowning, he moves on, choosing a more indirect approach to his next target.

Perhaps it’s nothing.

The itch is still there, needling him, and his neck prickles with anxiety as his magic swirls uneasily around him. He makes a random turn, then another. The crowd thins abruptly, and he curses himself roundly. He presents more of a target here than back in the main shopping district.

How would Zabini have found him here, though? Surely it can’t be a coincidence.

The answer hits him like a punch to the gut. The jeweler’s daughter.

He remembers the customer who entered as he was leaving, the shadowy figure he glimpsed skulking about in the shadows beside the shop. Zabini is after the blood diamond, too.

He probably dashed in to romance the jeweler’s daughter the moment Draco walked out, the bastard. She’ll have given him the name, too — he’s always known exactly what to say to women. He wonders if she remembered the name of the shop for him — if Draco could have wheedled it out of her with sweet words and promises.

Blaise. Blaise fucking Zabini.

He fancies himself an adventurer and treasure hunter too, though Draco considers him more of a pirate. He’s always trying to swoop in and steal their treasure — his and Potter’s.

A hint of movement catches his eye — the swirl of robes? Surely not; this is the muggle section of town. Even Zabini’s not that careless. A cape, then?

His heartbeat speeds up. He has to get out of here, but — ah.

Draco darts into a narrow alley and out the other side, merging smoothly into the flow of human traffic. He ducks and weaves through the press of bodies, before being suddenly brought up short.

He can’t decide if he wants to kiss the street performers or hex them, and compromises by doing neither, pushing through a gaggle of muggle tourists and then separating from the crowd again on the opposite side of the square.

He turns down the mouth of the first likely alley, left, then left again, and then comes up short in front of — a jeweler’s shop.

It’s not the next one on his list, but…

He stops, mind going blank as he takes in the slightly seedy storefront, the drunkenly leaning sign. Sod the list. He knows this is it.

With a quick glance around, he slips inside.

—

Across the street, a shadow detaches itself from the side of a stone building and glides closer.

—

He calls on all his Malfoy charm and increasingly thinly-veiled threats, finally resorting to a ridiculous sum of muggle money to make his point. He’s lucky he thought to carry so much.

The oily jeweler hefts the pile of coins thoughtfully in a meaty hand, squinting at them, then nods. Draco tries not to look at the dirt caked under his fingernails and into the seams of his hands, the grease-stained shirt that barely covers his portly belly. When the jeweler smiles at him, displaying a mouth full of yellowed teeth, his stomach roils queasily. Draco grits his teeth and grimaces back at him, trying to force his lips up into the semblance of a smile.

The man vanishes the money somewhere behind the counter and then turns back, oozing charm and solicitousness.

Some minutes later, Draco hurries out of the shop, cryptic note clutched in his hand. His mind is already jumping ahead, making and discarding plans as he walks swiftly to the nearest wizarding post office.

He needs to get this information to Potter — and his contacts in Cairo — as soon as possible.

—

Unnoticed, the shadow melts away from the door of the adjacent shop and follows.

—

Potter—

We have a job. Contact Sarah — she’ll have a Portkey for you, and the name of the hotel we’ll be staying at. Don’t bother packing; I’ve asked her to fetch your travel bag from my office. I’ve news of our mutual friend as well. Give my regards to Ginevra.

M—

 He bites his lip, arm poised to lift the owl into the air. He’s already dashed off the note and tied it tightly to the bird’s leg, but… It’s Potter’s wedding, after all. Can he really interrupt? He wonders fleetingly if Potter’s wearing the cufflinks he sent; if Ginevra will like them.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter whether Potter is wearing the cufflinks or not. He’ll drop everything the instant he receives Draco’s owl; he always does. It’s just one of those universal constants, like Draco’s weakness for green.

He hesitates again. It seems rude, interrupting Potter’s wedding. A few hours won’t matter, surely? He wonders absently when being rude to Potter ceased to delight him. They aren’t friends now, exactly, but…

His wandering eyes snag on a dark figure staring at him from the shadowy alley across the street; He thinks he catches the glint of gold beneath the hood where an earring would be.

He flings up his arm, launching the owl into the cloudless sky. He’s mildly sorry to drag Potter from his wedding, but… The wedding can wait. The blood diamond cannot.

Part 1~ Part 2~  Part 3~ Part 4~ Part 5~ Part 6~ Part 7~ Part 8~ Part 9~ Part 10~ Part 11~ Part 12~ Part 13~ Part 14~ Part 15~ Part 16~ Part 17~ Part 18~ Part 19~ Part 20~ Part 21~ Part 22~ Part 23~ Part 24~

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[leucinxandorath]

It's been weeks since Delaraina was buried. Leucin spent his time in the trade district within Silvermoon, selling jewelry he designed after melting down his share of the loot. It was a decent profit to make in this city. After all, who better to sell to than a bunch of self-entitled nobles or snobby politicians?

Life still wasn't really that easy for the Illidari; although playing a pivotal role against the Legion, which played a huge part in saving Azeroth, they were still sometimes met with distrust, stereotyped, and socially avoided overall. Especially those who joined the ranks soon after their return.

Leucin was one of them.

He didn't mind it, however. The solitude gave a sense of peace and more time to work on his craft and make gold. He wasn't one for a lavish lifestyle though, so his net worth just mostly sat in the bank. Perhaps one day he'll splurge. Around the afternoon, two elven guards approached his stand. Adorned in their crimson and gold armor, their shields held equal to each other, and their blades upright, they looked like living statues identical to each other.

"Demon Hunter," the one to his right said, "you are to come with us at once!"

"No." Leucin replied, his gaze being felt through his blindfold.

"... Can he do that?" The other guard asked, apparently new to this.

"You are summoned by the Magistrate Alis'synathara; to reject such a demand would be considered treason to the city. Come along now, or face the penalty of death."

He sighed. He knew all too well who this woman was; they had a history together. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. He nodded and moved to follow them.

Walking through the city, curious gazes would fall upon him with whispers and murmurs of speculation as to what is going on between the Demon Hunter and the city guards. Was he being arrested? Executed? Banished? The imagination gave a number of reasons. There were a few Illidari who would stare as well but would do nothing as Leucin met them with a nod, gesturing that is was nothing to worry about.

They made it to Murder Row where a majority of the Illidari found themselves soliciting amongst the locals.

"Need help, brother?" One would ask as they passed by.

"No, all is fine." Leucin would often reply.

Finally, after what felt like being paraded through the city, he found himself being dropped off at the door of Magistrate Alis'synthara's home. A well crafted door of oak wood lined with silver filigree opened for him to enter. As he walked through, before him was a crimson carpet atop a marble floor that led to staircase of marble and gold, with two house guards at the foot of it.

At the top stairs, standing with grace and beauty, was Magistrate Alis'synthara. Her silver hair shining brightly through the glow of the stained glass window behind her.

"I have heard tale of a man who set aside his Argent Crusader mantle to become one of the very things he fought against. A Captain who led others into battle against the Scourge, or demons who ran rampant on Azeroth. An elf who many trusted... Are you him?"

He crossed his arms, looking at her for a long moment before finally answering.

"You would know; you were there. Magistrate."

"Indeed I would," she sipped on her wine and began to come down the stairs, "it has been quite some time since those days, wouldn't you say? So much, that, it has led us on two different paths."

He watched her as she gracefully walked down, her dress flowing with grace and her beauty becoming more apparent as she came closer. Like her wine, the years have treated her well. A slender, almost seductive, body with skin so flawless it's as if she was made by the titans using the finest stars they could find.

"What is it that you want from me?"

"Oh, come now Leucin," she said as she circled him, letting a hand glide along his body feeling his Illidari form, "always to the point, with you. You never gave yourself time to take things slow, even during our time in the Crusades."

"I'm a busy guy." He replied, "Maybe after I do whatever you brought me here for, we can take it slow; over another bottle of that wine."

"I certainly hope so. I'd like to... feel this new form of yours. Your entire physique changed since you became a Demon Hunter. You look nothing like you once did."

"So what does this Magistrate want of me?" He said, getting to the point.

She took another drink of her wine and swirled the glass before replying, "There is a man-"

"There's always a man."

"Yes, but this elf defected to the Alliance; and he took something of mine. I want you to go after him."

He glared at her, although blindfolded, she could still feel his gaze upon her.

"This sounds like a job for an assassin. I am Illidari. This war is soon to be over, I have no interest in playing the part of 'clean up crew'. Leave that to those of the Horde."

She dismissed all of her guards, so that they would be alone. She looked at him not as a Magistrate, but as an old friend from their past.

"He has my daughter. He manipulated her emotions for him into following along in his defection. Last I was I aware, they were headed to Dalaran. If I send an assassin, or anyone else really, especially from Silvermoon then word would get out that my House is home to traitors. I will not have our name tarnish over the hormones of 'young love'. I'd rather her fuck an orc than to be labeled as defectors."

"So you want me to do it, so that it stays quiet."

"Exactly. I need someone who I know I can trust; I need my Captain." She kissed his cheek, "Bring my daughter back to me and I will owe a debt to you. As well as two hundred thousand gold."

He looked at her. The roughness of his complexion softened by her tenderness for a moment as he thought about it.

"That's a lot of gold."

"No amount is a lot when it comes to your name and your blood. For some, it's gold, for others... it's a different path in life. Your daughter still loves you, even though you've been gone for so long. I want you to know that."

He stayed quiet for a moment before finally making his way to exit her home.

"I'll bring her back."