#she’d talked about wanting a bucket hat and she also really likes bats

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

How lucky are we to live in a world where you can buy little gifts for your friends

[berrynarrybanana]

stars in our eyes | h.s

A/N: Hiya everyone! This is my entry for @helladirections​ Summer Fic Challenge! I picked Baseball Harry and Stargazing and originally I had a different idea ( I might bring that idea back in another part) but this was a good way to start of the story between these two. I adore them and I know this isn’t a whole lot, but I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to Elysa for hosting this amazing challenge. I really enjoyed taking part in it and I can’t wait to read all of the other works posted by my fellow writers! Here is a link to the masterlist for anyone who wants to take a look at the other pieces posted for the Summer Fic Challenge. 

Word Count 3.3k+

Warnings: None yet!

September 2015  Monday; 6:00 PM 

Your first day of University wasn’t at all what you expected. 

It felt just like your first day of high school with a few extra challenges sprinkled in, such as time management and struggling to find out what buildings you were meant to be in for class. The only person you had become friends with was your roommate, and she was just as awkward about meeting new people as you were. You both sat alone in the dining hall during breakfast before awkwardly waving to each other and parting ways. 

She was studying Biochemistry, and you were studying Journalism with a Minor in Broadcasting, which meant you had no classes together. It was a little scarier during the first hour, you’ll admit, but after sitting through a two-hour orientation from your intro to a creative writing class, you were just over it. At the end of your first day, you found yourself in the last place you ever expected to be on campus. 

The baseball field. 

Your Father was tucked away in the complex under the stadium, planning out his first practice that was scheduled for tomorrow. When you showed up with slumped shoulders and tired eyes, he merely handed you a bucket of baseballs and a bat before sending you out on the field. There was already a tee set up, and you suspected that your Father had spent quite a bit of time out here earlier to relive some of his stress. This was his first year coaching at UCLA, and he was extremely nervous about the number of eyes watching him this year. He wasn’t coaching high school ball anymore. College baseball was on a much bigger scale, which meant he had more to lose. 

You tried not to think about it as you set the ball on the tee, digging your beat-up sneakers into the sand before taking a deep breath. Baseball was in your blood. You spent more time on the field than you did in school as a kid, and you weren’t afraid of anything when you were holding a bat in your hand. Without hesitation, you twisted your body, driving strength into your hit with your hips and your shoulders. The cracking sound of the ball meeting the bat was soothing to your already frayed nerves. The only thing that was truly missing was the cheering crowd. 

“Well, I’ll be damned.” 

A low whistle caused you to snap your head around, your eyes landing on a too-tall man wearing a UCLA hoodie and a baseball cap. Resting the tip of your bat to the ground, you narrowed your eyes. He shuffled forward, clearing his throat as an amused grin pulled at the corner of his lips. 

“I’m not afraid to use this thing on more than baseballs if you catch my drift.” You shifted back a little as he held his hands up. “Who are you?” 

“M’name is Harry.” He said. “Coach Willis sent me out here. He said there was someone else blowing off steam out on the field and could probably use a real pitcher.” 

“I’m fine.” You glanced towards the ground. “But if you’re here to blow off steam too, then I don’t mind.” 

“Okay.” He nodded. “I didn’t catch your name, by the way.” 

“I didn’t throw it.” You bent down, picking up the bucket of balls before shoving it at him. “I don’t want to talk.” 

“Alright, no talking.” He nodded, taking the bucket. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Monday; 9:00 PM 

By the time your father emerged from his office, you were dripping with sweat. 

Harry was the same, his hoodie long discarded, and his hat flipped around as he tossed another ball in your direction. The cracking sound of your bat hitting the ball was drowned out by your Father clapping behind you. Harry narrowly missed the catch, his body tumbling to the ground with his glove tucked into his chest as you smiled widely at your father. 

“I hate to admit it, but this kid is good.” Your father held out a water bottle, and you gladly accepted, twisting the cap off before taking a hearty sip. “Where did you find him?” 

“Community college out in Carolina.” He said. “Parents just moved from England, and he was getting into some trouble. They tossed him in a few leagues, and I scouted him and offered a full ride.” 

“I can see why.” You looked over at Harry, who was jogging over to the both of you. “Great pitching you did out there.” 

“Thanks.” He flashed you a grin before taking the second bottle your father offered. “Hey, coach.” 

“As much as I would love to watch this go on, I have to lock up.” Your father glanced over at you, his eyes playfully narrowed. “And you need your rest, young lady. You have early classes in the morning, and I don’t want the other teachers talking shit in the staff lounge.” 

“Yes, sir.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Thanks for letting me come out here. I love you, dad.” 

“Love you too, bug!” 

He pressed a kiss to your cheek before you handed him the bat. You grabbed your bag from the dugout, slinging it over your shoulders as your Father and Harry continued to talk. As you were making your way past the locker room, you heard your name being called from behind you. When you turned around, you didn’t expect to see Harry chasing after you with a wide grin. 

“Hey, coach asked if I could walk you home.” He huffed out. “I promised I would return you to your dorm safely.” 

“I can walk by myself; you don’t have to babysit.” You mumbled, continuing until you reached the door of the stadium. Harry was right behind you when you glanced over your shoulder. “I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit the coach's daughter.” 

“I don’t, actually.” He let out a breathy laugh. “I’ve finished all of my schoolwork, and I don’t know anyone, so I’m free.” 

After a few moments of awkward silence, you finally spoke up.

“What are you studying?” 

“Um, Music.” When you turned to look at him, he had ducked his head down. “Minoring in Early Childhood psychology, though.” 

“Plan on being a music teacher?” Your brows arched on their own, your surprise clear as the night sky as you walked side by side

“Kind of.” He laughed softly. “If this whole baseball thing doesn’t pan out, at least.” 

“I think it will.” You said softly. “I’ve been watching my Dad coach since I was in diapers. You’re the best player I’ve seen.” 

“Thanks.” He said. “I appreciate that.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

The rest of your walk was filled with small talk. 

You learned that he was from Northern England and that his parents moved to the States two years ago. He had never played baseball a day in his life, more into music and tattoos than anything else. But he ran with a pretty bad crowd, and his Mum was extremely upset when he landed himself in jail for a night with underage drinking. After that, things changed for him. He promised his Mother that he would find something more productive to do with his life and that he would make her proud. Once he realized how big sports were in America, he decided to try his hand at baseball. He happened to be really good at the sport and his high school coach encouraged him to take it on full time. When Harry learned he could get a free ride to college, he dedicated his life to perfecting his craft.

“Sorry for talking so much.” He was extremely bashful, his cheeks still tinged with pink as you turned to look at him. “I don’t talk a lot, but I do tend to get carried away when I start.” 

“It happens to the best of us.” With a shrug of your shoulders, you offered him a reassuring smile as you patted his bicep. “I think you’re gonna kick ass, and I know that you’ll do well with my Dad. He’s an amazing coach.” 

“He truly is.” Harry nodded. “If you ever need to blow off steam again…” 

“Yeah,” You nodded at his unspoken offer. “Same goes for you.” 

“Thanks.” He smiled. “Um, have a goodnight, Y/N.” 

“You too, Harry.” 

October 31 11:00 PM

After that first night, you and Harry began blowing off steam together regularly. 

On most weeknights, you were out at the field with him. Your dad would hand you the keys, instructing you to lock up when you were finished. From there, Harry would pitch until his arm was tired, and you were so exhausted you could barely swing. Most of the time, he eased up on his throws. You could tell he was holding back just so you would get the chance to hit each ball clear across the field. You could tell when he really gave it his all, his whole body going into the throw as he grits his teeth. Those were a little harder for you to hit, but not impossible. You didn’t talk a lot during your time together, but on your walk home, you would indulge in friendly conversation. He would ask about classes, and you would ask about his life in a frat house. When you finally made it to your dorm, you would take at least twenty minutes to say goodbye to each other. 

And when you weren’t with Harry, you were thinking about him. Your mind was stuck on the way he laughed and the confidence he exuded when he was on the pitcher’s mound. You thought about his hands and his smile. The scent of his cologne and sweat was almost like an aphrodisiac and his laughter sounded like a song. You hated how hung up you were when it came to Harry. There was no chance that you would actually get to be with Harry like that. Not only were you scared of upsetting your father, but you were also scared of ruining your new friendship. 

But now you’re standing in Harry’s living room while his Frat brothers try to score with girls that are way out of their league. Your roommate had burst out of her shell a little, and she’d made a few friends. Her new friends were the reason you were standing with a solo cup full of vodka in your hand and a crappy costume that you’d tossed together in twenty minutes after your roommate begged you to come out. There were about twenty other girls dressed as angels, their outfits far cuter than yours, and their makeup flawless. You were still rocking the makeup you’d put on at six am, half asleep on your bed in the dark. As you pressed the rim of your cup to your lips, you heard your name being shouted somewhere from across the room. 

When you looked up, you didn’t expect to see Harry waving at you. 

“What on earth are you dressed as?” You looked over the sparkling L.A Dodgers uniform Harry was wearing, a plastic cup in his hand and a huge grin on his face. 

“I’m Elton John!” He cheered. “But also, I’m manifesting my dream to be a Dodger!” 

“Clever.” You pressed your lips together, rolling them over your teeth as you tried not to let your drunken giggle slip out. He noticed your face, his own falling as he stood up straight. 

“You don’t like it?” His voice slurred around the words, and your heart dropped. 

“I love it.” You said quickly. “I think you look really handsome, actually.” 

“Yeah?” He let out a breathless laugh. “Thank you, lovie.” 

“Of course.” You gave him a soft smile. 

“And you’re...an angel?” His eyes slipped over your costume in a way that didn’t make your skin crawl. “You did a really good job with your outfit.” 

“I didn’t know we were coming to this thing tonight. I just threw this together.” You waved your hand about, looking down at your white dress. “I’m not as….my costume isn’t as scandalous or fun, but it does the job.” 

“I think you look beautiful, lovie.” He cooed, shuffling forward as a group of guys rushed past him. When you pressed your hands to his arms, steadying him out of habit, he gave you that smirk. “I think you’re an angel already. Could’ve come dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and it would be just as perfect.” 

“Harry.” With a soft giggle, you ducked your head down. “You’re drunk.” 

“Still think you’re beautiful when I’m sober.” He hummed out, reaching up to press his thumb to your chin. He gently guided your face up, his face serious as he spoke. “I mean it, fuck do I mean it, Y/N. I swear I struggle every single day, trying to keep you off my mind. But it’s so fucking hard when you’re this beautiful.”

You didn’t say anything as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your chin, his glossy green eyes staring into yours. If you were completely honest with yourself, you felt the same way about him. Even when you were completely preoccupied with your schoolwork, you were thinking about Harry. The way he smiled, the way he walked, how he pitched with that look in his eyes, it was impossible not to think about the man that had wormed his way into your life. 

“I think about you, too.” You whispered. “All the time.” 

“Yeah?” The corners of his lips twitched, a soft smile forming. “Can we...I wanna go somewhere with you.” 

“Anywhere you want.” You whispered. “I’ll follow.” 

“Finish your drink.” He smirked. 

                                         **************

You didn’t expect to be in the outfield with Harry. 

When you realized what direction he was pulling you in, you groaned a little. Harry’s response was lacing your fingers together before pulling you into his side. He slipped an arm around your shoulder, turning his head to press a sloppy kiss to your forehead before he promised that you would enjoy his surprise. When you walked into the actual stadium, and past the infield, it was pitch black. Your father must have turned the lights off when he left for the night. 

“Look!” You pointed towards the grassy field, gasping. “Lightning bugs!” 

Harry let you go, watching as you ran into the field with your hands extended out. His heart was beating so hard in his chest as he watched you move freely, practically dancing in the grass as you tried to catch one. When you finally did, you turned towards Harry with a smile that rivaled the moon’s brightness shining down over both of you. He moved forward, peeking into your hand as you carefully opened it. The soft yellow glow had nothing on your giggles. 

“Dad calls me bug a lot because I used to love catching them when I was a kid.” You whispered, opening your hand up so that the bug could go free. “They’re so stunning.” 

“Lightning bug.” He let out a breathy laugh. “You remind me of one now that I’m thinking about it.” 

“How so?” You ask, turning towards him. 

Harry grabbed both of your hands, pulling you into his chest with a grin. 

“You’re so fucking bright.” He said. “You literally glow, and I don’t even think you notice it. Even when we first met and you were pissed off or upset about whatever, you were glowing.” 

“That’s called sweat, Harry.” You grimaced, rolling your eyes at his affection. “Do you really mean it?” 

“I really do.” 

Harry pressed his forehead into yours as his hands slipped from yours. He dropped them to your waist, digging his fingers into your sides as you basked in the moment. Your lips started to tingle with the need to kiss him, almost overwhelming your senses. You let your hands slip over his biceps as you push yourself back, clearing your throat, as if to bring you back down from the cloud he had you stuck on. 

“I really want to kiss you right now.” You whispered. “But I know that I shouldn’t. 

“Why shouldn’t you?” His brows pulled together as you took a step back. 

“Because you’re the star of my father’s team, and I can’t get in the way of that.” You felt your lips falling into a frown. “I can’t do that to him, and I can’t do that to you.” 

“Are you saying you expect us to fail?” His brows shot up. “Before you even give us a try?” 

“I don’t want to be the thing that stands in the way of you and your dream.” You confess. “What if things did go wrong between us? We hardly know each other, Harry! You can’t be certain-”

“I know enough about you, Y/N.” He let out a confused laugh. “But, the fun thing about relationships is the learning part! It’s okay that we don’t know everything about one another.” 

“You’re not scared at all?” You asked. “What if we break up and it’s one of those really bad breakups? I wouldn’t be able to go to games anymore to support my father, and he’s going to ask why.” 

“I refuse to let it end poorly.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if you’ve realized, but I’m pretty determined about getting what I want, and I want a chance to love you, Y/N.” 

Love.

That warm, ooey-gooey feeling that would slowly take over your entire life. 

Love. 

In a few moments, you could see it all flash before your eyes. 

Your first date with Harry. 

Your first time. 

Your first fight. 

Your first, I love you. 

Seconds later, you were launching into his arms. 

When your lips pressed against his, it was messy. You put too much force behind your kiss, and you nearly knocked him onto his back as he wrapped his arms around you. When you pulled away, it was only for a second. You pressed your lips back into his with more purpose, a gentle kiss slowly sending that warm feeling up your spine. You didn’t care about the consequences or the rules at this moment. All you could think about was how great it felt to go after the one thing you really wanted. 

Harry. 

“Easy there, lovie.” He pulled back, pressing a breathless kiss to your nose. “We’ve got plenty of time, I promise.” 

“You can’t promise that.” You dropped your head down to the crook of his neck. “But I’ll take it for now.” 

Harry chuckled, softly squeezing you in his arms before he pulled back. 

“Lay with me?” He asked. “I wanted to show you the stars when I pulled you out here.” 

“Oh.” Your cheeks grew warm. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “It was worth it.” 

After you rolled your eyes, Harry plopped his but down on the grass. 

Seconds later, he helped you down with his hands on your waist. You lay down next to each other, your fingers laced together as you looked up at the night sky. The silence that washed over you was almost therapeutic. You were mesmerized, amazed that you could actually see the stars clearly, no smog blocking your view of the bright lights. 

“Is that the little dipper?” You lifted your hand up, pointing at the constellation. 

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “That one over there is the big dipper.” 

“Wow.” You whispered. “It’s breathtaking.” 

“When I’m done walking you home, I always come back.” He said softly. “I lay out here for hours, mostly thinking about you, and my family, and this wonderful opportunity I’ve been gifted.” 

“You think about me when you’re thinking about all of those things?” You turned your head towards him. “That makes me sound like I’m special.” 

“You are.” He said. “You were the first person I met here, besides your Father, and...I don’t know. Something about you just makes me feel so happy and so full. I don’t feel so homesick when you’re around.” 

“I know the feeling.” You smiled softly at him. 

You moved your body closer to his, resting your head against his shoulder. 

You had a feeling that this was the start of something great.

[peter-parkner]

CONGRATS ON 300!!! can a request a platonic parkner + 84? I feel like that’s the perfect prompt for two people who are the definition of chaotic energy. I can see Peter saying but I’ll leave it up to you!! ⭐️💗

Mischief Managed - Part 1

“We really can’t thank you and Peter enough for doing this tonight.” Pepper’s heels clacked across the wooden floor as she moved through the kitchen, dumping her handbag onto the counter.

“It’s no trouble, really. Besides, there’s at least ten sweet old ladies living in Peter’s neighborhood who are sure to give us extra candy tonight.” Harley was perched atop a stool at the marble breakfast bar. He was on his laptop finishing a last-minute school assignment.

Pepper walked over and kissed him on the head. “Well, we appreciate it anyway.” She stopped and looked around, brows furrowed, “Harley, have you seen my –”

“Lipstick? You left it in the bathroom.” Tony walked into the kitchen waving a small black tube between his fingers. He was dressed in a sleek, black three-piece suit.

Pepper snatched it from her husband’s hand, relief filling her features as she dropped it into her handbag. She gave Tony an appraising look before walking over to him and fiddling with his tie. Between the finger light touches and small smiles, Harley felt like he was invading on something deeply intimate.

He cleared his throat, “Um, I’m gonna go get Peter.”

Pepper nodded but didn’t respond. Harley made his way toward the elevators and down to the lower floors where the labs were. It was Halloween and, of course, Peter Parker was the only person still working through the holiday. The elevator doors dinged open and Harley stepped inside. He pressed the button for the 50th floor, watching as the number lit up a soft yellow.

“Hey Peter, are you almost ready? I just have to change and then…”

His words trailed off as he rounded the corner and entered their shared lab space. Standing in the middle of the lab was Peter, covered in prototype web fluid. Peter’s face and hair were unscathed, but his clothes definitely were not salvageable. The left side of Harley’s mouth quirked upward in a smile at the sight in front of him.

“Is that, uh, what you’re dressing up as tonight?” Harley barely suppressed his laughter behind a wide grin.

“Oh, this isn’t a costume. This is my natural state of being.”

Foam was steadily dripping off of Peter’s clothes and onto the scuffed up tile floors. It landed with a resounding ‘plop.’ Peter grabbed some paper towels in an attempt to mop up the mess, but it was in vain. Harley took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He gave the man another once over. Halloween was not going to be ruined by a chemistry experiment gone wrong.

“I can fix this.”

Harley glanced at his Stark watch; they had about fifteen minutes to get ready. He put on his game face and dragged Peter toward the decontamination shower, throwing him inside.

Fifteen minutes to the second hand, Harley and Peter stumbled out of the elevator and into the common room. Pepper and Tony were talking in low voices while they sat waiting on the couch. Well, Pepper sat. Tony was awkwardly leaning over the back of the sectional so the two could still be eye-level. He didn’t want to wrinkle his three-piece suit prematurely.

“We’re ready whenever Little Miss is.” Harley hopped over the back of an armchair while Peter filled himself a glass of water in the kitchen.

“Gotta say Underoos, that’s a bold costume choice,” Tony quipped from where he leaned against the sofa as he took in Peter’s appearance.

“Not my finest work, but I think it’ll do.” Harley also eyed up Peter’s Halloween costume while the man in question continued sipping from his glass of water.

Tony squinted harder at Peter. “Hey, Harls isn’t that the shirt I bought you when you moved to New York?”

“Yup.”

Peter was dressed up as a New York City tourist: the most cliché thing Harley could think of in the moment. He had on white socks the hit his mid-calf, red low-top Converse and Harley’s white ‘I

As if on cue, Morgan called out from behind the kitchen wall, “Are you guys ready!”

“Yeah, Sweetie!” Pepper replied as four pairs of eyes turned toward the arched doorway.

“Drum roll!” Peter started furiously banging on the marble counter top while Harley aided him using the arms of his chair as makeshift drums.

After a beat of silence, Morgan jumped out from behind the partition. She struck a pose and was met by a chorus of praises as everyone stood up.

“A bat? That’s awesome!” Peter leaned down and high-fived Morgan.

She was wearing a black tunic dress over leggings with matching Mary Janes. Black arm bracers attached to a cape turned into magnificent bat wings when Morgan raised her arms. As she smiled, fake fangs glistened in the soft, overhead lighting. A black choker and ruby red hair clips finished off the costume.

Morgan ran over to Pepper, who easily scooped her up. “We both thought she’d want to be a superhero, but nope,” a small laugh escaped her lips, “Their science class finished a section on bats for Halloween and now they’re Morgan’s favorite animal.”

Tony beamed down at his daughter while he fixed her hair clips. Peter was already taking five-hundred pictures of the family with his camera. Pepper and Tony’s million-dollar outfits sharply juxtaposed Morgan’s Halloween costume.

“Oh my God, I get Harley’s costume now.” He paused his picture taking to stare at the other man from where he now leaned against the sofa, in the space Tony previously occupied.

Harley was clad in all black: black jeans, black t-shirt, black Doc Martens and a leather jacket. The only thing that gave away what his costume was supposed to be was the fake blood dripping down his mouth and vampire fangs that peeked out when he smiled. They also matched Morgan’s pair.

“Why do you get to wear a cool costume?” Peter pouted while Morgan giggled.

“Because I’m a cool person, duh.” Harley brushed past Peter with Morgan’s pumpkin shaped, trick-or-treat bucket in hand.

After two more trips upstairs from Pepper, another round of photos and multiple phone calls from Happy, who waited impatiently in the parking garage downstairs, the quintet made their way toward the elevators.

“You have both of our personal numbers, right?”

“Yes, Pepper.”

“And you have Happy’s?”

“Yes, Pepper.” Harley’s voice was exasperated but his smile was fond.

“Peter, you have your web-shooters on, right?”

“Yes ma’am!” Peter rolled back the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt to expose his gadgets.

“Tony, are we forgetting anything else?” Pepper turned to her husband, brows furrowed.

After a moment of contemplation, Tony spoke: “Save some candy for us, okay?”

Pepper elbowed him in the ribs with her left arm while the right held tightly onto Morgan’s hand. Tony discreetly rubbed his side when the five of them exited the elevator upon reaching the parking garage level. Mr. and Mrs. Stark kissed their daughter goodbye, hugged Harley and Peter in turn and made their way toward Happy’s Audi.

“Have fun, kids!”

After the Audi drove off, Harley, Peter and Morgan got into Aunt May’s Toyota. Peter made sure everyone was buckled in and then started their drive over to Queens.

By the time they pulled into May’s building, it was seven pm. Peter swiftly parked and the trio crossed the street, eager to start trick-or-treating. They had meticulously planned a route through the safest residential area by May’s apartment. The sounds of Halloween floated through the air as the trio neared their destination. Harley’s grip on Morgan’s hand tightened when they started encountering more and more adults with their children.

Goblins, ghouls and superheroes flew by the trio while children ran rampant in the streets. Darkness had settled over Queens with only lampposts and the neon glow of front porch decorations to light their way. Harley looked down at Morgan as she happily skipped beside him in her bat costume.

“You ready to get some candy?”

Morgan shook her head eagerly and Harley let go of her hand, urging her toward the house in front of them. He and Peter followed closely behind. The front porch light was on and two large, carved pumpkins with candles inside of them sat on the steps leading up to the door. Morgan stood on her tiptoes and rang the doorbell, a wide grin on her face.

“Trick-or-treat!” Morgan exclaimed as soon as the door fully opened, revealing a young woman in her mid-thirties.

She looked down and grinned at Morgan. “And what are you supposed to be young lady?”

“A bat!” She spread her arms to put her faux-wings on display.

“Wow! That’s so cool!” The woman presented a large bowl of candy to Morgan. Her eyes lit up as her small hands eagerly dug around for Hershey’s bars, Morgan’s favorite. “You might want to take a few extras for your brothers.” She looked up and winked at Harley and Peter.

Peter beamed back at the woman when she gave a final wave before closing her front door. Morgan turned and skipped ahead of the two toward the next house, pumpkin bucket swinging back and forth. Their next destination had a front yard littered with fake tombstones. A green spotlight cast an eerie glow on the domicile as well. Harley made Morgan hang back while they patiently waited for another family to finish conversing with the elderly couple who owned the residence.

Once they left, Morgan eagerly ran to the front door and the trick-or-treat cycle started all over again.

The rest of the night flew by seamlessly as Morgan enchanted couple after couple into giving her extra candy without even trying. Her bucket was overflowing by the time the trio made it back to May’s apartment building; even Harley and Peter had to stuff some sweets into their pockets for her. Peter’s Nikon was filled with pictures of the three of them throughout the night and he couldn’t wait to show Pepper and Tony in the morning.

Though the night had started off a little rocky, Peter couldn’t help but break into a smile as he looked over at his best friend next to him and his self-appointed little sister strapped into the backseat. Morgan was counting her spoils of war inside the pumpkin bucket. Tonight was definitely a Halloween for the history books.

Part 2

Join my 300 follower celebration! Requests open till 10/31

[lupinlongbottom]

Untouchable

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) (L/N) can’t stand to be in the same room as Charlie Weasley, let alone think about talking to him. Being close friends with his brothers makes it a hundred times harder to ignore.

Prompt: Hey! I'd like to make a request for Charlie where the reader is friends with the twins or Ron and he likes her but every time he tries to talk to her or even like enter the room she leaves or ignores him so he's like dang she don't like me but REALLY she's just so flustered around him and doesn't want to embarrass herself because she likes him so much. Thank you so much! (Sorry if this is a long request lol) - @theboywhocriedlupin

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: like one f-bomb, hella fluff

A/N: AH thank you Ash for the beautiful request. I hope I did this prompt enough justice to what you’d imagine. (Also, I love Tonks.... k bye)

__

The grand staircase was rather empty for a Saturday afternoon. Although Gryffindor wasn’t playing, most of the House had gone and attended the Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw Quidditch match. (Y/N) had decided to catch up on some well needed sleep than watch the match, figuring that a few extra hours would do her good. Her younger friends, Fred and George Weasley—whom she had learn to love like brothers—had a similar idea. Sticking behind, that is. She had awoken to a letter gingerly stuck to her face—all thanks to her pet owl—telling her too meet the boys in front of the entrance to their Common Room for a surprise.

“You guys are insane,” (Y/N) said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not going to work.”

“How do you reckon?” Fred asked, holding a rather unsteady red rope, his fists readjusting ever so slightly.

“Yeah! How do you know?” George exclaimed, voice cracking.

“My many years of experience have boded well.” (Y/N) said, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. Her fingertips grazed her navy jumper lightly as she did so.  

“Shut it—”

“You’re not that much older than us! What? Like three years?”

“Three and a half, actually.” (Y/N) corrected, shifting her weight onto another step on the stairs. (Y/N) was currently in her fifth year at Hogwarts, having met the twins last year when they had begun their schooling career. It had been an interesting year, to say the least.

“Doesn’t matter! We know what we’re doing!” Fred said, gripping the rope tighter. It had led from Fred’s hands to a bucket, hanging ever so gently from the ceiling, right above the Fat Lady’s portrait.

“It’s not going to work.” (Y/N) repeated, glaring back and forth between the twins. A slight pout traced her lips.  

“She’s right, you know.” The Fat Lady bellowed, polishing her latest chalice.

“Yeah, yeah. We heard you the first time.” George groaned, waving off the Fat Lady.

“If you so much as get a drop on my head, I’ll never let you back into your dormitory until the end of your schooling.” The Fat Lady retorted. Her nose pushed up slightly with her tone. George and Fred gulped lightly before shrugging her off.  

“What did you even fill it with?” (Y/N) asked, crossing her arms, now genuinely curious.

“Remember how we asked you about the Aging Potion?” Fred grinned.

(Y/N)’s mouth hung agape. “There’s no way you two brewed an Aging Potion! That’s way too complex for second years! I can’t even brew it yet. It’s impos—”

“Impossible?” George finished.

“For us, probably,” Fred shrugged. “But when you ask a pretty blonde seventh year nicely,” His grin grew wider. “She may oblige.”

“How did you get Penny Haywood to brew that for you?” (Y/N) said, furrowing her brows. The blonde Hufflepuff was known for her kindness, that was no lie, but (Y/N) knew she wouldn’t possibly have given a group of known trouble-makers such a powerful potion. “She would never—”

“She’s a Hufflepuff.” Fred said simply.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Hufflepuff.” Fred repeated.

“Well,” (Y/N) huffed, not wanting to continue the argument. “Whatever the reason had been,” She clicked. “I hope your prank somehow works out.” She turned her back to the boys, who were excitedly awaiting for their victim—anybody, really—to exit their Common Room.  

“You really are like the sister we never had.” Fred swooned, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

“You already have a—never mind,” (Y/N) sighed. “I’ll stay and watch,” George grinned, Fred mirrored his action. “Only,” (Y/N) stated with a sharp tongue. “Only because I could probably help if something went wrong.”

“(Y/N), you’re such a worrywart.” George said, shaking his head lightly.

“The worrywart of Hogwarts!” Fred gasped, the realization spreading across his features quickly.

“I swear on Merlin’s beard if you two make that a ‘thing’, so help me—”

“Worrywart of Hogwarts! Worrywart of Hogwarts!” The twins chanted in unison, hopping up and down slightly. The bucket had shifted slightly from the platform beneath it. (Y/N) shot her hands up to stop them from their excitement, which, of course, urged them to jump and chant harder. The bucket had shifted even closer to the edge, begging to be tipped.

The Fat Lady had swung open in that moment, starling Fred. He yanked hard on the cord, sending the platform downward, the bucket tipping over completely. (Y/N) flinched, scrunching her face tightly. She didn’t get a good look at who was walking out, but she knew whoever it had been, they wouldn’t exactly have been happy. (Y/N) felt her eyes shut tightly, bracing for impact.

“What the…” The voice spoke. (Y/N) peaked an eye open, glancing at the victim. There, standing drenched in the liquid was a very enraged Charlie Weasley. His long red hair was pulled back into it’s usual ponytail, which now was seemingly longer than it was before thanks to the dampness of his hair. (Y/N) yelped quietly, flinging herself up the steps, out of Charlie’s possible gaze.

“Charlie!” Fred barked, now completely disregarding the rope. “Why aren’t you at the match?”

“I was looking for my hat—no luck—I had misplaced it in my trunk,” Charlie said, wicking his hands through his wet hair. “Obviously that was a terrible decision on my end.”

“Mum’s going to kill us,” George said, glancing quickly to Fred. “We’ve aged our brother to nothingness!”

“Aged your brother?” Charlie asked, stepping out of the puddle. “What could you possibly be—oh,” He cracked a slight but knowing smile before shifting his face back to it’s stony glare. “Why do my bones suddenly ache?”

“Oh no! It’s the arthritis!” George yelped, flinging his hands to his hair. “It’s already setting in!”

“We’re so screwed!” Fred said, mirroring George’s motions. Charlie chuckled airily, turning quickly on his heels to enter the Common Room yet again, probably to dry himself. “Oh man,” Fred sighed again. “Charlie’s going to die. Completely our fault! (Y/N), what do you—(Y/N)?” His eyes scanned over the steps, to where the still sleepy (Y/N) had been sitting before.

“Is he gone?” (Y/N) asked, crawling slowly down the steps, flicking her eyes between the twins worried expressions.

“Who? Charlie?” George asked, eyeing (Y/N) as she crawled out of her hiding spot. “Yeah, he’s gone. Probably forever.”

“Wonderful,” (Y/N) sighed as she stood up, stretching her legs. “Just wonderful.”

“You seem quite content with Charlie dying, considering you made quite the leap when he came out,” Fred mused. “Higher than a chocolate frog I would bet!”

(Y/N) felt her face heat up, the feeling rising from her chest to her cheeks. “Huh,” She hummed, fidgeting with her hands. “That’s interesting. I should tell my mum that, she’d love to hear about it. Let me go and write her now!” (Y/N) began her way down the stairs, only to have The Fat Lady fling open, pushing her nearly off the edge of the steps.

“Merlin, (Y/N)! I’m so sorry! I didn’t even know you were out here,” Charlie said, helping her upright. His eyes scanned her worried appearance. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy.” (Y/N) mumbled, pushing past Charlie to descend down the steps. She skipped every other step in hopes to get down the stairs quicker, which in reality helped very little. The Weasley boys watched her disappear from view, her (Y/H/C) bounding along the way.

“That was weird, right?” George whispered to Fred, who nodded.

“What?” Charlie asked, eyebrow cocking upwards.

“Have you ever had a conversation with (Y/N) that was that short?” Fred responded simply, crossing his arms.

“Always,” Charlie sighed, almost sadly. The twins shot him a surprised look. “Is that not like her?”

“Exact opposite, mate.” George said.

“I suppose you two know her better than I do,” Charlie said, running his fingers through his now somewhat dried bangs. “I really want to apologize, but why would she be so short with me?”

“Dunno,” Fred shrugged. “You should try—”

“—and ask her about it.” George ended. “She likes to do things with books in the library Saturdays usually, you could—”

“—try meeting her there.”

Charlie stared at his brothers with a blank look on his face. “You two really need to stop with the twin sentence thing. It gets annoying,” Charlie shook his head as he descended the stairs. “Also,” He turned around, looking at the twins—whom were cleaning up their puddle of a mess—and sighed. “‘She likes to do things with books in the library’? So, studying?”

“That’s what that’s called!” Fred exclaimed, flinging his wand nearly out of his hand.

“Can’t remember words I don’t use, Charlie.” George smirked.

“You two sometimes…” Charlie clicked, returning back down the stairs, determined to apologize to (Y/N), hopefully not making a fool of himself in the process.

—

True to the twin’s claims, (Y/N) was indeed studying in the library, hunched over a Transfiguration textbook. Charlie smiled to himself, staring quietly at her furrowed brows. She seemed to be having trouble with whatever she was jotting down. As if the solution hit her like a lighting bolt, her face lit up instantly, scribbling furiously on the parchment beneath her tapping quill.

Charlie didn’t even notice the stack of books he had been leaning on until he had toppled them over, sending a loud crash echoing through the library. (Y/N) shot her head up, scanning the shelves around her for whatever had made the noise. In an instant, Charlie hid behind the nearest bookshelf to hide himself. (Y/N) shrugged it off and returned to her parchment.

“That was close,” Charlie whispered to himself. He peeked around the corner, watching (Y/N) smile softly to herself as she closed her first textbook and opened another. “If she saw me, she’d think I’m being a creep,” He laughed gently. “But I am being a creep. Way to go Charles. Just go talk to her!” He hissed under his breath, arguing with his own logic.

“Hiya Weasley!” Tonks exclaimed loudly, slapping a hand hard on his shoulder.

“Tonks…” Charlie groaned. (Y/N)’s eyes met his abruptly. The color drained from her face as she quickly shoved her materials in her bag and scurried off out of Charlie’s line of sight. “What’d you do that for!?” He hissed yet again, the sound rivaling any snake that could possibly cross his path.

“Wanted to say hi,” Tonks smiled, rocking back and forth on her feet. A tuft of her shockingly pink hair floated into her face, which she pushed away quickly. “Why would you be mad?” Tonks’ eyes followed the hurried body leaving the library, (Y/N). She glanced back at Charlie’s slightly pink face. “Oh, I see what’d going on,” Her grin grew twice it’s size. “Got a crush on little (L/N) do you? I didn’t know you liked younger women.”

“She’s not that much younger, don’t make it weird.” Charlie said simply.

“Make it weird? Me?” Tonks batted her eyelashes. “I could never do that, Charles.”

“Seriously Tonks?” Charlie waited a beat, focusing on Tonks’ unchanging expression. “I’m convinced (Y/N) hates me now, I nearly pushed her off the staircase this morning. She’ll never talk to me again and—wait, when did you start calling me Charles?”

“Since I started feeling like it,” Tonks said, shrugging. “Besides, (Y/N) can’t hate you. It’s statistically impossible. I had Rowan crunch the numbers.”

“Rowan crunched the numbers?”

“Indeed. You see, the rest of your friends—you know, the coolest kids in this school—we’ve noticed how you stare at (Y/N) all the time,” Charlie opened his mouth to speak. “Let me finish please. So, we’ve done a little digging on the matter and low and behold, (Y/N) likes you too.”

“How did you possibly—”

“Penny asked nicely.” Tonks replied.

“But how—”

“Penny has a very trusting face, must be a Hufflepuff thing.” Tonks sighed.

“Tonks, you’re a Hufflepuff.” Charlie chuckled.

“That’s true, which makes the whole situation,” Tonks’ hair began turning a daisy yellow, growing past her shoulders, her face shifting into a familiar smile. Penny’s smile. “All the more believable, no?”

“You didn’t!” Charlie’s eyebrows practically flew up to his hairline. “That’s deceitful and wrong and—”

“Would you get your knickers out of their twist? Penny was going to ask anyway, might as well have me get it out of the way.”

“You really need to stop interrupting me.” Charlie sighed.

“What’s the fun in that?” Tonks said, shifting back to her usual appearance. Her bubblegum returned to it’s normal state, now sitting just atop her shoulders. “Listen, I know that you care about (Y/N), for whatever reasons you have, so I’m only going to tell you this because I care about your feelings,” Her hand settled on Charlie’s shoulder, albeit softer than the first time that afternoon. “She’ll be out in the courtyard around sundown.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“If you need any help keeping Cinderella at the ball, let me know. I can always hex her legs or something.”

“There’s the Tonks I know,” Charlie smiled. “Though, what’s a ‘Cinderella’?”

“You purebloods are missing out on some really fucked up Muggle children’s stories, you know that?”

—

“…no, I guess that wouldn’t work.” (Y/N) mumbled to herself, erasing the large line she had just drawn over her parchment. The wind was blowing lightly, making the courtyard that evening ever more enjoyable.

Charlie spotted her from across the way. No one else was in the yard, much to his shock. He had the slightest feeling that Tonks had a bit to do with it. With a heavy sigh and a jittering heart, Charlie entered the courtyard.

(Y/N) glanced up from her paper, noticing the redhead walking towards her. With a flick of her wand, her belongings packed neatly into her bag—she’d been practicing that since she had left the library earlier that day—and stood up.

“Wait! (Y/N)!” Charlie called out, running towards her. “Please don’t run! I just want to talk.”

(Y/N) paused for a moment, facing away from Charlie. She didn’t dare turn around.

“Look, I’m sorry for nearly killing you today at the staircase. I obviously didn’t mean to do that and I’m sorry,” No response. “(Y/N), please, respond to me. You rarely ever give me the time of day or speak to me at all, it’s like you leave the room whenever I show up and—”

“It’s not about the stairs, Charlie,” (Y/N) sighed. “You didn’t know I was out there, easy mistake, anyone could have made it.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“You! It’s about you!” (Y/N) exclaimed, turning tight on her heels, now facing Charlie directly. She drew a quick breath when she focused on his face. His cheeks had glistened in the of sunset, the shine dusting across his freckles gently. “I can barely talk to you without getting flustered. It’s like my tongue has two left feet!”

“W-what?” Charlie stumbled. He hadn’t exactly expected to hear that.

“How could a girl—who’s two years younger than you, I might add—even compare to the wonderful girls you hang with? I’m not as charismatic as Tonks, not nearly as intelligent or kind as Penny. Don’t even get me started on Tulip, she’s practically both of your brother’s role model,” (Y/N) took a deep breath. “And your brothers! I’m so close with them that even thinking about having a possible relationship with you seems irrelevant—”

“(Y/N) slow down, you’re going about a mile a minute—”

“You’re untouchable, Charlie Weasley. Always have been. It’s like the stars have aligned to make it so.”

Charlie smiled softly, ignoring (Y/N) now flushed appearance. She had been running her mouth for quite some time, just coming up for air. “Have you read that in your Astronomy text or something?”

“Astronomy? I don’t take Astro—Oh. The stars thing I said.”

“The only thing that’s making me ‘untouchable’, (Y/N),” Charlie took a hesitant step forward. “Is your head. You overthink.”

“It’s a specialty of mine.” (Y/N) mumbled.

“So I’ve noticed,” Charlie chuckled. “Look, (Y/N), nothing you do could possibly make me not like you. You are kind and funny. No need to mention that you have the most charming smile I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

(Y/N)’s face felt like it was overheating. “M-my smile?”

“Merlin, yes!” Charlie took another step towards her. “I wish you’d do it more often. It makes my mouth go dry and it’s hard to formulate a coherent thought whenever you do it,” Another step. “Please believe me.”

“I think I do.” (Y/N) said, fighting back the biggest smile she had ever felt like pulling. She couldn’t give him that now, not when he was about to spill his heart out to her.

“Good. I’m glad,” Another step. Charlie was now directly in front of (Y/N), only about a foot away. “I’m also glad you’re talking to me. I quite like your voice.”

“T-thanks,” (Y/N) stuttered. Charlie was just a bit too close, she could barely focus on what was  in front of her. “I like your voice too, if it makes a difference.”

“O-oh,” It was Charlie’s turn to be flustered. “Thanks.”

“What? You can give compliments but can’t receive them?”

“This whole ‘pining’ thing is all new to me, okay?” Charlie laughed, running fingers through his bangs before it met hers, snaking his fingers between her own. “Think you’ll be able to talk to me without running away now?”

“Depends,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Where would we be talking?”

“Three Broomsticks? Next weekend?”

“Deal,” She responded quickly. Charlie’s lips curled into a soft smile, leaning in towards (Y/N) slowly, his eyes closing. “Woah! Charlie!”

His eyes flung open. “I’m sorry!” He pulled his hand away from hers. “I thought that you were—that we would—now I feel like an idiot!”

“It’s okay,” (Y/N) giggled. “I want to, really, I do, but I just got over talking to you for Merlin’s sake! Think we can take it a bit slower?”

Charlie nodded. “You’re right. We’ll take it slow. I just got excited,” His free hand rubbed the back of his neck softly. (Y/N) moved to her tiptoes and placed a soft peck on Charlie’s freckled cheek. The heat from his chest radiated up to his cheeks and ears, flushing his entire face with a rosy hue. “Ah—well—wow, okay.”

“Speechless, are you?”

“Just a bit. Wasn’t quite expecting that, though I suppose you’re quite the unexpected lady.”

(Y/N) eyes lit up. “Merlin! I nearly forgot! The Aging Potion!” Her fingers grabbed Charlie’s jaw rather roughly, tilting his head around. “Charlie, how are you feeling?”

“Trying to find wrinkles are you?” Charlie smiled at (Y/N)’s silence. He was right. “Penny didn’t give the twins an Aging Potion. She told me straight away after they asked, so I told her to give them some water made to look like a potion.” He shrugged.

“That was rather clever, Charlie.” (Y/N) hand didn’t leave Charlie’s jaw. Her thumb grazed over his growing stubble lightly, enjoying the feeling.

“I’ve been known to be smart occasionally.” He grinned.

“I’m just glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too, otherwise I wouldn’t have that kiss to look forward to.”

“Just the kiss?” (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow.

“That, and the many more you’re bound to give me.” Charlie said, puffing his chest slightly.

“Clever and cocky, what a catch you are.” (Y/N) said, rolling her eyes.

“You know you like me.” Charlie hummed, his hand rested atop of hers.

“I do. I like you a whole lot.”  

—

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai

Charlie Weasley Tag List: @sungoddessra , @crescent-ia

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[everly-kindred]

Everly’s Diary - Entry #31

Synopsis: Eve details the festivities happening around Hogwarts, and the spooky happenings that have occurred. 

Words: 3,698

Date: 27th of October, 2026

Dear Diary, 

Things have gotten really spooky around the castle now that Halloween is approaching. We did pumpkin carving, went trick-or-treating, had the Halloween Bash, and I threw a Death Day Party for the ghosts of Hogwarts! There’s also been some strange things happening, and I’ve had another vision. This time, it was scary. 

I’ll start with the pumpkin carving, which we did on Friday. I carved a pumpkin with some stars and a moon, drank cider and ate pumpkin pie, and all of that was quite nice. I got to carve with Bonnie and meet this pumpkin person she had made in artificer club. I’ve decided I’m going to start going to artificer club because this pumpkin person was amazing! He has a little pumpkin for a head, a barrel for a body, and brooms and sticks for his arms and legs. He can move around and is very silly! He even tried to carve a pumpkin of his own. 

During pumpkin carving, there was a lot of shouting. One Ravenclaw girl was throwing a fit and pumpkin guts at the professors. I can’t remember why. There was also Nora, a girl in my house, a third-year I think. She had this sign that said that carving was murder and said that if we carved pumpkins, we wouldn’t get presents from ‘the great pumpkin’ on Halloween night. I’ve never heard of such a thing! Eventually, she fled, but not before screaming, ‘MURDER!’ which caused an older girl, a Slytherin I think, to flee screaming like she was actually being murdered. 

That night, Bonnie and I went around the castle to do trick-or-treating (and she brought her little pumpkin person! She calls him a punkeen. He had his own little bucket to collect candy for Bonnie.) I didn’t want to wear my full costume until the bash, but I did wear the tights and hat from my costume, and a black sweater dress. We knocked on eighteen doors in total, and got tricked a few times! 

I started in the dungeons, deciding to go from the bottom of the castle up to the top - or I tried to, anyway. I think Professor Waldgrave’s door was the first one I knocked on. His door was tricked with spiders that crawl out and then vanish. I really thought they were real! The other door I knocked on down in the dungeons was the Ghoul Studies room. I got candy that time, but then when another round of students approached the door, they got attacked with water balloons… I, unfortunately, was in the crossfire and got wet. But at least I got candy! 

Next, we went up to the second floor. This really colourful professor gave us chocolate frogs, but they started multiplying until we were buried in them! I managed to escape, and they vanished, but not before I could splat one on her door! But then she came back out and gave us real chocolate frogs and chocolate wands. 

Then, we went to the tapestry corridor, where a really grouchy professor gave us candy. Bonnie’s candy eventually turned into a pair of dirty socks, which was disgusting, but my candy remained normal. After that, we went to the long gallery, which is where most of the doors were, I think. The first door we went to there was opened by a very kind looking professor with a round face and a dimple in her cheek. She gave us this pumpkin to open, and when we did, it exploded! Purple firecrackers and glitter in the shape of bats and orange, green, purple and black streamers flew out and got tangled in my braids! But then we managed to get actual candy from her, too. 

The door after that was Professor Banks’. I got some pumpkin-shaped candies from her, but then when another group went by, I guess they got tricked. The hall started to fill with the smell of stink sap! So we got out of there pretty fast. After that, we went up and knocked on Professor Rask’s door. I really do have such a problem with not staring at Veela, and she’s no different! Every single time, I always end up going all moony-eyed like an idiot. Anyways, she gave us candy that made our voices sound like animals, which was pretty cool. 

Bonnie and I stopped to talk and watched as some students got pranked by flying, screaming books that came from Professor Reuter’s room. We knocked on his door and got tea flavoured chocolates, which might be my favourite candy that I got that night! I’ll have to ask him where he got it! 

We went to the Mythology professor’s room next, and when she opened the door, there was this loud sound and this puppet fell from the ceiling! It had a huge face and looked kind of like a creepy dog or�� lion with three eyes. It certainly gave me a fright! I’ll have to ask her about it at our next class, I know she likes to do a lot of stuff involving her homeland, Japan. Then, she gave us candies shaped like the pretty flowers on top of lily-pads. Bonnie says they’re called lotuses. 

Eventually, we found our way to the Defense Against The Dark Arts tower, which was probably where the weirdest encounter was. There was already a group of kids there before we got to the door, and when they knocked on it… The door sprouted eyes, and began crying really loudly and spraying everyone with its… tears? Anyways, we braced ourselves and approached the door, and when we knocked, it actually opened. There stood Professor Lane, and he was like… I mean… He had Christmas music playing? And was dressed like he was going out into a blizzard, and he had this board thing? Anyways he gave us these chocolate pie things that his wife had made. They were really good! 

We went up to the charms room next. Professor Idylwild gave us these Turkish delights that tasted like butterbeer, and they made me feel all warm. She also gave us these orange and cinnamon flavoured ones, and they made me burp fire! I told Bonnie I was being transfigured into a dragon. Wouldn’t that be so fun?

We got some taffy from Professor Green, and I took a bite of it, but… It made me all confused. Bonnie had to hold my hand for a while, because I didn’t know which way was up! I ended up throwing those taffies away. 

Then we went to the Hospital Wing, and got some lavender lollipops from Matron O’Rourke. After that, we used the clocktower to go down to the grounds, because I wanted to check the groundskeeper’s hut and the owelry. When we went to the hut, we got rained on by these rainbow candies and some confetti, and I swear I could hear Professor Eastwood laughing. But then, Professor Dracheblume came out gave us some candy. There wasn’t anything at the owelry.

We went up to the sixth floor and found Deputy Headmistress Blightly’s room. The door was sort of ajar, so we stepped in. Blightly looked like she’d been possessed, and we heard this voice and turned around to see a ghost who looked just like her! But then, the real Blightly started laughing and explained the ghost was her dead twin. 

At this point, Bonnie was wanting to trick someone in return. She said that when you get tricked and don’t get candy, you get to trick the professor in return! So Bonnie did the gemino curse on the wood of the door and stuck a note on it for the trick-or-treaters to only touch the metal knocker - doubly clever so that the students know, but the Deputy Headmistress doesn’t. If someone touches the wood, the door will multiply! I wonder what it looked like when Blightly discovered that! 

Next, we discovered Vikander’s door. When he first opened it, he tied the shoe-laces of my boots together! That didn’t stop me from knocking again, though, and when I did he gave me Feathersweet chocolates, and told me not to get myself killed…

Then we went down to the Muggle Studies classroom, and got some fudge rockets from Professor Hellstar, though he did try to give us bogie-flavoured candy first, which I, of course, threw away! After him, we found the flying professor’s door. He gave us a prank broom at first, that popped into snitch-shaped bubbles, but then after that, he gave us actual candy - also inside of these weird brooms that we had to break open. 

He was the last door of the night. After that, I went back to my dorms to count out my sweets and stash them away. All the candy I got actually saves me a trip to Hogsmeade, which is good considering I had to set up for the death day party, anyways.

When I woke up on Saturday morning, there was this blaring organ music playing. Apparently, it comes from the clock tower! I want to go visit it, but Aures sent me a letter begging me not to. It fills the castle with ticking sounds, weird raspy laughter, and music that reminds me of the Phantom of the Opera. I’ve also heard whispers that it’ll steal your voice if you touch it! Or I did, anyway, but this was all later proved to be unfortunately all too true. 

I had finished my pumpkin costume, which was fairly comfortable as far as Hallowe’en costumes go! I stitched it up with felt and orange thread and painted on it with black paint. I made a hat with the same felt and some stuffing, and then wore my matching orange and black striped tights. I also made some leaves out of green felt and used green thread to sew them into my tights so that they looked like vines. 

We all waited outside of the Great Hall when the time drew near. Everyone’s costumes looked brilliant! Aures dressed as a faun, I saw a few students who wore white with blood spatter, a lot of winged creatures (Bonnie went as a dragon) and I overheard Talula saying she was the queen of thestrals, or something like that. 

I’m not sure how, but the professors managed to turn the inside of the Great Hall into what I imagine the forbidden forest looks like - but with a lot more jack-o-lanterns. It was absolutely amazing! Like what Professor Gallo had done to the divinations room, but more spooky! 

The Deputy Headmistress and Headmistress O’Keeffe showed up together, and Blightly was wearing a suit and a mustache! The Headmistress was wearing a black dress, but… It was fairly different from her other dresses. More, uh, showy I suppose. She looked brilliant! 

I talked to a girl, a Gryffindor prefect,  I think, who was dressed like an angel. She spoke so softly, and seemed sort of… distracted. Like she wasn’t all on earth, which is a feeling I think I feel very often. She had asked me if I knew the theme ahead of time since there were so many jack-o-lanterns and I was dressed as one. I said I hadn’t, and she mentioned something about foresight… and then quickly said that most people don’t believe in that, though. I told her I did (I know it all too well) and there seemed to be some sort of… an understanding between us. 

After that, Levi approached me. He actually remembered me this time and thanked me for not covering my face up too much, since his memory is so bad. He came dressed as a ringmaster and showed me he actually had to write it down on his hand to remember what he looked like. I showed him my hand, which still had ink on it from when I was reading on Thursday. I write down page numbers on my hands if I don’t have a bookmark. That, names, important times, things like that. He seemed happy that someone else writes stuff down on their hands, too. I suggested he use a notebook to write things down, in case a professor tries to clean the ink or something with magic. I told him if he wanted to go trick-or-treating, we could go together, since he gets lost so easy. 

I ate cakes and drank punch, and danced until I got too tired. I tried to sleep, though I had a hard time. The organ kept waking me up, and that night, I had the vision. It was such a vivid nightmare, but I knew it wasn’t just a dream. I dreamed I was looking into the Defense Against the Dark Arts room and saw a class was happening. I saw students, but I couldn’t figure out any of their faces. Vikander stood at the head of the class. He was covered in blood and was laughing evilly. Organ pipes had burst through the floor and filled the room with this awful off-key sound. It seemed like I was going to go deaf, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. And then there was a whirlwind, and I was watching one of the large statues in the school fall over, and crush someone underneath it. I couldn’t tell who it was, and I couldn’t get to them in time to stop it. I woke up crying. 

This morning, I went to the owelry and wrote the same letter to as many of my friends as I could think of. ‘Stay away from DADA, and keep your distance from the statues.’ Cheryl wrote back and told me I should go to the hospital wing and talk to a healer, and that everything would be fine… Because she doesn’t know that what I saw wasn’t just a nightmare. 

Bonnie helped me set up the Death Day party. We got some of the rotting pumpkins from the patch by Dracheblume’s hut, and from the patch the Hufflepuffs had grown over by the greenhouses. We went to the kitchens and got rotting fish and meats from the garbage, and bribed the house elves for the stinkiest cheeses that they had. Bonnie even transfigured some black buttons into ravens! 

Then, she used magic to hang up these black silk curtains in the dueling room, to really make it look spooky. We even threw some spiderwebs on them! Then, we set up two tables. One table full of the smelly stuff for the ghosts, because I read that they like it and fly through it because it’s the closest thing to eating, while the other was filled with some of the untouched food from the bash. Bonnie also transfigured some cool lights that looked like creepy hands coming out of the floor, holding lanterns. 

Bonnie talked to me about being a prefect and Head Girl, which made me wonder if I would ever be chosen to be one. I ended up telling Bonnie about my dream, my worries and the reason I wrote the letter. And… I told her that I’m a seer. And she believed me! She told me I should tell O’Keeffe or Blightly, and then she left to go to Hogsmeade with the other prefects. I left and got dressed in the outfit I had planned - black from my neck to my toes. A silky shirt with ruffles, and a skirt that went down to my feet with gold detailing on the bottom. I used black ribbons in my hair, too. 

Then, it was time for the Death Day party. I stood at the door and offered coffee beans to everyone, for them to stick in their nostrils to block out the smell. The room had gotten really gross smelling at that point, after all, and I didn’t want to chase anyone away.

At first, Bobby was the only living person who’d shown up. I saw a lot of the ghosts I was familiar with, and some I wasn’t… Like there was this one ghost who had a cat face and a tail! So she must have died by some sort of transfiguration or potions mishap, I imagine. She even had paws. There was also another ghost who was the Ghoul Studies professor a long time ago, and I think he was saying the organ took his voice. Another ghost I saw was one with a big bloody slit across his throat. I wanted so badly to ask them how they died, but I know that questions like those are huge no-nos when it comes to ghosts. They’re sensitive about it and all. 

 While we were at the party, an owl post announcement was sent that anyone who goes to the clocktower will be suspended, because of how dangerous the organ has become. I find this sad, as the clocktower is one of my favourite places to go. That, the wooden bridge outside of the clocktower courtyard, the owelry, the pitch… I’m sure there are others, but those are the first few that come to mind. 

The cat-ghost suggested that the organ is stealing voices because it needs a voice of its own. The professor ghost pointed out when another voice was stolen as well, because a new chord was played all throughout the castle. Through a little bit of charades, he told us that when the chord changes, it means a new voice was stolen. 

The bloody ghost - whose name I learned was Castiel - asked me why I wanted to throw all the ghosts a death-day party. I told him the truth, of course - that we’d been learning about ghosts in Ghoul Studies, and I wanted to be kind and show that they’re appreciated. He said that of course I’m a Hufflepuff, which I’m not sure if I should take offense to or not. I suppose not. There’s nothing bad about being kind. 

The professor ghost used charades to tell me he used to teach ghoul studies. I asked him a few questions about the Battle of Hogwarts and all that, and then noticed that he had a cat with him. They seemed very close. Imagine being so close with your familiar that they’re there when you die! I read that Egyptians liked to be buried with their cats, I think because they’re meant to be protective. It makes sense if I think about it since Puck has been very sweet and protective towards me. Whenever I’ve felt sad or homesick, he’s come to my side. 

Then the other ghost, Castiel, asked me to guess how old he was. His appearance suggested the victorian era. He said he was born in 1895, and told me to stay away from vampires. I assume that’s how he died, but I know better than to ask. 

Jane joined us at one point, said hi, and then left, Marigold and Anton also visited, and then Deputy Headmistress Blightly arrived. She asked if we could speak, so we stepped into the hallway. Well, speak is a funny choice of word, because she had lost her voice to the organ. So it was more like… I was speaking, and she was using her wand to write words in the air. At first, I thought maybe Bonnie had said something to the professor, but actually, it was Essa! I had sent her a letter as well, and Blightly began asking me why I’d told Essa to avoid Vikander’s class. I told her I was a seer and she… immediately believed me. Just like Bonnie had. I’m starting to wonder if the curse of foresight is real, after all. 

Anyways, I told her I had a vision in my dream, and she asked me to describe it, so I did. I told her about Vikander, the organ, the statue - everything. All the while, the organ was using the voices it had stolen to make creepy choir music, laugh, and basically create enough nightmares for me to last a lifetime. It even shouted! But then, it got worse…

It spoke to me in my mother’s voice… Called me Bumblebee, told me it needed me to go to the clocktower. I thought for a second that it had gotten her, that I had to go rescue her. Its voice pulled me like a fish on a line! If Professor Blightly hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would’ve done… I might’ve run down there and lost my voice just like she had! She had to do a lot to convince me to stay put. It even made me hear my mother screaming, asking for help. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sound. Essa walked me to the hospital wing so I could get a calming draught because the sounds were making me hysterical, and I also got a pair of the special earmuffs we wear when we handle mandrakes. Taking Cheryl’s advice, I also got a bottle of sleeping draught and dreamless sleep, because I sure as heck wasn’t going to fall asleep and not have nightmares without it. 

Essa mentioned having the ‘Sight’ as she put it, which I asked her about. She told me the future comes to her, which means… When Bonnie told me I wasn’t the only seer in the school, she was right. Of course, I told Essa that I also get the visions. It’s nice to know that I’m not alone.

So as you can tell, there has been a lot of good, and bad these past few days. Other than all of that happening, Bobby gave me his scarf, which was very kind of him because it was honestly freezing in the dueling room, surrounded by all of those ghosts. There’s something very… sweet and heartwarming about knowing that the scarf I’m wearing belongs to a dear friend. Honestly though, I felt like my fingers were going to fall off by the end of the party! I also sent a lot of pumpkin grams to my friends, but I haven’t gotten any yet. I wonder if I will. I think that’s all I have. My wrists hurt pretty bad and I’m completely exhausted, so I’m going to go to bed now, and think of what I want to do when Hallowe’en (or Samhain!) finally arrives.

Much love, Everly

About the Character: Everlina Rosemary Kindred is an imaginative Hufflepuff attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She keeps up with her magical journey through a series of diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings, all documented for future reflection. Her diary is a small glimpse into her enchanted life, and her adventure into the wizarding world and all its splendors. If you’d like more information about Eve, visit her wiki page. 

About the Author: My name is Katherine! I am a 21-year-old Hufflepuff & Pukwudgie from Louisville, Kentucky. This page is my creative journey into the magical world, through the lenses of Second Life. Here I post diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings all from my character’s perspective. If you’d like more information about me, visit my Flickr! 

[readbookywooks]

“Showme.” With a scream Esk spun around. Fire flared from her fingertips and arced across the room. The kindling exploded with a force that hurled the furniture around the room and a ball of fierce green light spluttered on the hearth. Changing patterns sped across it as it spun sizzling on the stones, which cracked and then flowed. The iron fireback resisted bravely for a few seconds before melting like wax; it made a final appearance as a red smear across the fireball and then vanished. A moment later the kettle went the same way. Just when it seemed that the chimney would follow them the ancient hearthstone gave up, and with a final splutter the fireball sank from view. The occasional crackle or puff of steam signaled its passage through the earth. Apart from that there was silence, the loud hissing silence that comes after an ear-splattering noise, and after the actinic glare the room seemed pitch dark. Eventually Granny crawled out from behind the table and crept as closely as she dared to the hole, which was still surrounded by a crust of lava. She jerked back as another cloud of superheated steam mushroomed up. “They say there's dwarf mines under the Ramtops,” she said inconsequentially. “My, but them little buggers is in for a surprise.” She prodded the little puddle of cooling iron where the kettle had been, and added, “Shame about the fireback. It had owls on it, you know.” She patted her singed hair gingerly with a shaking hand. “I think this calls for a nice cup of, a nice cup of cold water.” Esk sat looking in wonder at her hand. “That was real magic.” she said at last, “And I did it.” “One type of real magic,” corrected Granny. “Don't forget that. And you don't want to do that all the time, neither. If it's in you, you've got to learn to control it.” “Can you teach me?” “Me? No!” “How can I learn if no one will teach me?” “You've got to go where they can. Wizard school.” “But you said -” Granny paused in the act of filling a jug from the water bucket. “Yes, yes,” she snapped, “Never mind what I said, or common sense or anything. Sometimes you just have to go the way things take you, and I reckon you're going to wizard school one way or the other.” Esk considered this. “You mean it's my destiny?” she said at last. Granny shrugged. “Something like that. Probably. Who knows? ” That night, long after Esk had been sent to bed, Granny put on her hat, lit a fresh candle, cleared the table, and pulled a small wooden box from its secret hiding place in the dresser. It contained a bottle of ink, an elderly quill pen, and a few sheets of paper. Granny was not entirely happy when faced with the world of letters. Her eyes protruded, her tongue stuck out, small beads of sweat formed on her forehead, but the pen scratched its way across the page to the accompaniment of the occasional quiet “drat” or “bugger the thing”. The letter read as follows, although this version lacks the candlewax, blots, crossings-out and damp patches of the original. To then Hed blizzard, Unsene Universety, Greatings, I hop you ar well, I am sending to you won Escarrina Smith, shee bath thee maekings of wizzardery but whot may be ferther dun wyth hyr I knowe not slice is a gode worker and clene about hyr person allso skilled in diuerse arts of thee howse, I will send Monies wyth hyr May you liv longe and ende youre days in pese, And oblije, Esmerelder Weatherwaxe (Mss/ wytch. Granny held it up to the candlelight and considered it critically. It was a good letter. She had got “diuerse” out of the Alm anack, which she read every night. It was always predicting “diuerse plagues” and “diuerse ill-fortune”. Granny wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but it was a damn good word all the same. She sealed it with candle-wax and put it on the dresser. She could leave it for the carrier to take when she went into the village tomorrow, to see about a new kettle. Next morning Granny took some pains over her dress, selecting a black dress with a frog and bat motif, a big velvet cloak, or at least a cloak made of the sort of stuff velvet looks like after thirty years of heavy wear, and the pointed hat of office which was crucified with hatpins. Their first call was to the stonemason, to order a replacement hearthstone. Then they called on the smith. It was a long and stormy meeting. Esk wandered out into the orchard and climbed up to her old place in the apple tree while from the house came her father's shouts, her mother's wails and long silent pauses which meant that Granny Weatherwax was speaking softly in what Esk thought of as her “just so” voice. The old woman had a flat, measured way of speaking sometimes. It was the kind of voice the Creator had probably used. Whether there was magic in it, or just headology, it ruled out any possibility of argument. It made it clear that whatever it was talking about was exactly how things should be. The breeze shook the tree gently. Esk sat on a branch idly swinging her legs. She thought about wizards. They didn't often come to Bad Ass, but there were a fair number of stories about them. They were wise, she recalled, and usually very old and they did powerful, complex and mysterious magics and almost all of them had beards. They were also, without exception, men. She was on firmer ground with witches, because she'd trailed off with Granny to visit a couple of villages' witches further along the hills, and anyway witches figured largely in Ramtop folklore. Witches were cunning, she recalled, and usually very old, or at least they tried to look old, and they did slightly suspicious, homely and organic magics and some of them had beards. They were also, without exception, women. There was some fundamental problem in all that which she couldn't quite resolve. Why wouldn't.... Cern and Gulta hurtled down the path and came to a pushing, shoving halt under the tree. They peered up at their sister with a mixture of fascination and scorn. Witches and wizards were objects of awe, but sisters weren't. Somehow, knowing your own sister was learning to be a witch sort of devalued the whole profession. “You can't really do spells,” said Cern. “Can you?” “Course you can't,” said Gulta. “What's this stick?” Esk had left the staff leaning against the tree. Cern prodded it cautiously. “I don't want you to touch it,” said Esk hurriedly. “Please. It's mine.” Cern normally had all the sensitivity of a ballbearing, but his hand stopped in mid-prod, much to his surprise. “I didn't want to anyway,” he muttered to hide his confusion. “It's only an old stick.” “Is it true you can do spells?” asked Gulta. “We heard Granny say you could.” “We listened at the door,” added Cern. “You said I couldn't,” said Esk, airily. “Well, can you or can't you?” said Gulta, his face reddening. “Perhaps.” “You can't!” Esk looked down at his face. She loved her brothers, when she reminded herself to, in a dutiful sort of way, although she generally remembered them as a collection of loud noises in trousers. But there was something awfully pig-like and unpleasant about the way Gulta was staring up at her, as though she had personally insulted him. She felt her body start to tingle, and the world suddenly seemed very sharp and clear. “I can,” she said. Gulta looked from her to the staff, and his eyes narrowed. He kicked it viciously. “Old stick!” He looked, she thought, exactly like a small angry pig. Cern's screams brought Granny and his parents first to the back door and then running down the cinder path. Esk was perched in the fork of the apple tree, an expression of dreamy contemplation on her face. Cern was hiding behind the tree, his face a mere rim around a red, tonsil-vibrating bawl. Gulta was sitting rather bewildered in a pile of clothing that no longer fitted him, wrinkling his snout. Granny strode up to the tree until her hooked nose was level with Esk's. “Turning people into pigs is not allowed,” she hissed. “Even brothers.” “I didn't do it, it just happened. Anyway, you must admit it's a better shape for him,” said Esk evenly. “What's going on?” said Smith. “Where's Gulta? What's this pig doing here?” “This pig”, said Granny Weatherwax, “is your son.” There was a sigh from Esk's mother as she collapsed gently backwards, but Smith was slightly less unprepared. He looked sharply from Gulta, who had managed to untangle himself from his clothing and was now rooting enthusiastically among the early windfalls, to his only daughter. “She did this?” “Yes. Or it was done through her,” said Granny, looking suspiciously at the staff. “Oh.” Smith looked at his fifth son. He had to admit that the shape suited him. He reached out without looking and fetched the screaming Cern a thump on the back of his head. “Can you turn him back again?” he asked. Granny spun around and glared the question at Esk, who shrugged. “He didn't believe I could do magic,” she said calmly. “Yes, well, I think you've made the point,” said Granny. “And now you will turn him back, madam. This instant. Do you hear?” “Don't want to. He was rude.” “I see.” Esk gazed down defiantly. Granny glared up sternly. Their wills clanged like cymbals and the air between them thickened. But Granny had spent a lifetime bending recalcitrant creatures to her bidding and, while Esk was a surprisingly strong opponent, it was obvious that she would give in before the end of the paragraph. “Oh, all right,” she whined. “I don't know why anyone would bother turning him into a pig when he was doing such a good job of it all by himself.” She didn't know where the magic had come from, but she mentally faced that way and made a suggestion. Gulta reappeared, naked, with an apple in his mouth. “Awts aughtning?” he said. Granny spun around on Smith. “Now will you believe me?” she snapped. “Do you really think she's supposed to settle down here and forget all about magic? Can you imagine her poor husband if she marries?” “But you always said it was impossible for women to be wizards,” said Smith. He was actually rather impressed. Granny Weatherwax had never been known to turn anyone into anything. “Never mind that now,” said Granny, calming down a bit. “She needs training. She needs to know how to control. For pity's sake put some clothes on that child.” “Gulta, get dressed and stop grizzling,” said his father, and turned back to Granny. “You said there was some sort of teaching place?” he hazarded. “The Unseen University, yes. It's for training wizards.” “And you know where it is?” “Yes,” lied Granny, whose grasp of geography was slightly worse than her knowledge of sub-atomic physics. Smith looked from her to his daughter, who was sulking. “And they'll make a wizard of her?” he said. Granny sighed. “I don't know what they'll make of her,” she said.