#so many stunning shades that make me want to write poetry about each and every one of you /p

[melit0n]

Heard we were doing some Orb Posting! I think I'm a bit late, but we ball

[third-generation-female-warrior]

Ordinary Date

Ahaha! So I did write something for Valentine’s Day, now that it’s basically over, but it’s still 9:40pm my time, so it counts! So, sequel-ish to The Path we Walk and prequel-ish to Goodbye Winter, with Talbott and Ravenclaw!Alexus, my favorite pairing to write about, it seems. It’s not a fic of the Valentine’s Day Ball sidequest, this is kinda AU-ish on what I think their first date would really be like. First date hymns, poetry, angsty stuff, the world’s smallest canon complaint, preppy-nerds-who-pine, banter, little proof-reading, this did not go remotely the direction I thought it was gonna. Things started out so nice for them. He made her feel like an ordinary girl, if only for a few hours. But she was not meant to last a whole night, it seems. Rated T, 6,000+ words.

-

The soft glow of the street lanterns casted an orange glow onto the otherwise pearly white snow that rested to the sides on the main street of Hogsmeade, dulled grey by the night’s gentle darkness. It wasn’t snowing, but the clouds looming in the sky suggested that fact would change. There was a gentle coldness in the air, not a biting freeze, but it still made the breaths of the passersby illuminate a smoky puff as they walked along the wet cobblestone path. Their breathes would turn orange or yellow as the air would catch the soft light glow of the window shops. The people walking in front of the warm interiors would only have half their face casted in light, the other halves of their bodies turning to near translucent shadows.

Talbott Winger watched people turn into silhouettes, only seeing shadows as they walked from shop to shop.

He stood on the opposite side of the street of the Three Broomsticks entrance, the adults and the students pouring in and out of the establishment, walking hand in hand, or storming out furiously, one girl running out, crying. It must have been a date gone wrong. It was Valentine’s Day, after all.

Talbott’s first Valentine’s day with Alexus Johnson, the girl from his year he gave his heart to on accident and against his better judgement. It was not a deathbed confession, but she was recovering after being tortured by a dark witch when he confessed his mutual attraction.

A lot of their relationship milestones seemed to be an accident. He accidentally let his guard down enough for her to become his friend. She accidentally confessed her feelings first. He accidentally got feelings for her, more than he knew what to do with.

He just didn’t want to accidentally ruin tonight.

He was waiting outside the Three Broomsticks because that’s where they agreed to meet. She was discharged from the Hospital Wing earlier today, and he left while her friends dragged her to the dorm room to “get her ready” even though Alexus herself was wildly protesting.

Talbott was anxious, even if he would never admit it. He would never admit he was anxious or that he consulted his dormate, Andre Egwu to help him pick out an outfit.

Andre was ecstatic, almost insultingly so, to help Talbott dress for such an occasion as a date, and while throwing different clothes from Andre’s own wardrobe onto Talbott’s bed, he admitted to giving the girls tips about what should be Alexus’s outfit for the date.

So, that was how Talbott ended up standing in the cold while wearing some dull tan overcoat over a light grey pullover sweater and that was over a white button-up shirt. Not to mention, blue jeans. Overall, he was kept warm, which Andre must have accounted for. Maybe a little too warm, as the back of his neck was burning. Maybe that had nothing to do with the heat of his clothing layers. He let out a breath, that smoky breath that visibly danced in front of his face before disappearing the next second. He gently placed a hand over his chest, over the feather charm on his necklace. He pressed down, feeling it against his palm, against his skin. He was nervous.

God, who would have known he would be nervous taking out the girl he really liked?

They both agreed to no grandiose plans, as Alexus was still technically in recovery and they both hated grandiose plans. Talbott knew what his ideal date entailed, and he had a decent idea of what Alexus would enjoy for a date.

So why was he so nervous?

“Talbott!” he looked up and his heart stopped.

There she was.

“Alexus,” he said as she walked up, not quite smiling, but he stared at her with something soft in his eyes.

She wasn’t alone, but he saw only her, his vision tunneling as her appearance was stunning. She wore a neck dress that was a deep, royal shade of blue that cinched at the waist and swayed around down her legs with each step, ending just above her knees, the rest of her legs covered by black, opaque tights. White lapels peaked over the collar, and a fitted dark grey cardigan hugged her torso.

Alexus walked in the middle of a trio which consisted of her, Badeea Ali, and Penny Haywood, the three girls linking arms, walking to Talbott like they were moving down the aisle, giving their daughter away for a wedding. Maybe that was a semblance of their motivations, but in reality, he knew they were just making sure she made the walk to him, as they were rather unsure of all the spells that dark witch had used on Alexus just recently, unsure if there would be any lingering effects.

As they reached him, Alexus broke from the girls and slid her hand into Talbott’s waiting one.

“Thank you,” she said to them.

“Have fun!” Penny waved off cheerily.

Talbott nodded his head to them respectfully before they disappeared into the Three Broomsticks. He watched them leave before looking down at Alexus. He brought her hand to his lips for a second. “Are you ready to go?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” she replied, smiling at him.

He returned her smile before leading her away, down the street of Hogsmeade.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I feel you’d prefer to avoid crowded places today,” he started as they walked.

“I’d prefer to avoid crowded places any day, but since the rumors of my dating habits have been picking up, I would prefer to be away from as many other students as possible.”

“As you wish,” Talbott said, winking at her.

Alexus rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Since when do you watch The Princess Bride?” she asked.

“Since you mentioned how good it was in five letters after fourth year,” he chided.

“It was good!” Alexus said defensively.

“Well, you always were a sucker for romance. Who would have known?”

She poked his side. “You have no room to talk, Mr. Read-Poetry-to-the-Girl-in-the-Hospital.”

He stopped walking and looked down at her. “As I recall, you enjoyed being read to.”

She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I never said I didn’t.” She walked further along, dragging him with her a few steps until he started walking on his own, again, taking the lead.

“You’re… impossible,” he said with admiration and burning cheeks.

“You’re paradoxical,” she retaliated as she fell into step with him. Before he could question her adjective, she continued. “Where are we going, anyways?”

He frowned, but let it roll off his shoulders. “You can fly, yes?”

“As gracefully as the day I first transformed.”

“Oh dear, we might be in trouble then.”

He laughed as she nudged his side with her shoulder.

“The Courtyard, Alexus. The Clocktower Courtyard.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You have me escorted all the way to Hogsmeade just to fly back to Hogwarts?”

“Well, eventually. I thought you’d enjoy Honeydukes first. You can tell a lot about a person by the sweets they enjoy.”

He stopped as they reached the front of the shop in question. She didn’t even realize that’s where he had taken her.

She opened her mouth, probably to say something smart back to him, but he was already opening the door for her like a proper gentleman and ushering her inside from the cold.

She gave him a look that was half a smirk and half a challenge and half a battle of wits when they left.

He just winked back and grabbed her hand, walking with her through the shop. There were other students, more crowded than they both would have liked, but also not as busy as a place such as the Three Broomsticks. There were other couples, walking and poking around the shelves.

“So, what is your favorite sweet?” Talbott asked as they made their way through a natural path of the store. He inspected a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans.

“Not that. Too much risk,” Alexus replied, scrunching her nose at his selection.

“You break curses in your spare time,” he pointed out, almost laughing.

“Ever since Jacob gave me a wasabi flavored bean when I was four, I’ve been rather weary of them.”

He laughed and kept the package. “Then I’m definitely getting this. I’ll give you the good ones.”

“Oh, you’re such a gentleman,” she said, sarcastically before reaching up. He found it incredibly endearing that her fingers barely brushed the bag of liquorice wands, straining to grasp them before she caught the plastic with her fingers, pulling it forward just a centimeter before pulling it closer until she could slide it off the edge slowly and into her palm.

“You could have asked for assistance or a step ladder you know,” he said, trying not to burst out laughing, but there were tears in his eyes from the strain of holding himself back.

“Sod off, Talbott,” she muttered before looking at her parcel. “These are my favorite.” “Liquorice wands?” he asked, glancing at her hands.

“Ever since I was little. My mum…” she stopped and looked at him cautiously.

He caught her look before turning away, trying to make his demeanor as eased and nonchalant as possible. “Continue,” he assured her.

“My mum always bought these when she went to a wizard market. Jacob and I would pretend to duel.”

Talbott laughed lightly. “See? I told you, you can tell a lot about a person based on the sweets they enjoy.”

She rolled her eyes. “What about you? What’s your favorite?”

Talbott hummed and put the peppermint toads he was holding back onto the shelf. He grabbed her empty hand with his own before leading the way to another aisle. He picked up a displayed cardboard box with a saran wrap window, showing off the gelatinous sweets inside.

“Jelly slugs?” Alexus asked incredulously while Talbott beamed, like he was the creator of the confections.

“They’re right and proper when you have a craving for sweets, Alexus,” Talbott said seriously.

“They’re good, but I didn’t think they’d be your favorite sweet,” she shrugged.

“Oh? What did you think would be my favorite?” he asked, added the box to his collection.

She hummed, thinking before letting go of his hand, disappearing behind a shelf before reimaging, walking up to him and shoving a box of ice mice into his hand.

He stared as she pressed her lips together, eyes lit up with something wicked.

“You know,” she said, voice shaking with restrained giggles. “Because… well, birds of prey tend to enjoy mice.” She laughed as he gave her a pained expression.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him as he put the box back. They looked at other sweets when they were approached by a wiry and young employee with a tray in his hands.

“Chocolate raspberry fudge?” he asked. “Free samples for Valentine’s couples.”

Talbott looked at Alexus before taking two off the tray, thanking the employee.

“Are you fond of raspberry?” she asked.

“Very, when it’s paired with chocolate,” he replied, handing her a small square of the pink and brown treat.

They ate them together as they finished their shopping and walked to the register, Talbott grabbing two bottles of butterbeer on their way. They paid before they left the shop, still talking about the sort of treats they would enjoy in their childhood.

“Muggle candies, have you ever had those?” Alexus asked.

“I can’t say that I have.”

“You’d love them. If I make it to summer, I’ll be sure to buy a bunch to share with you.”

He looked at her. “If?”

She blinked. “Uh, when,” she corrected herself, “I mean, when I come back from the summer.”

He stopped, his grip in her hand making her stop as well. She turned to him, reluctantly meeting his piercing red eyes.

“Do you not think you’re going to make it past the Final Vault?”

“It’s- it’s not that, Talbott. I just… can’t guarantee it,” she looked down and held his hand tighter. “I have to be realistic.”

He sighed and kissed her head. “That is the path you walk?” he asked.

She nodded and pressed her head against his chest.

He wrapped an arm around her. “Then I’ll walk it with you. I promised you that much, Alexus.”

“You’re… paradoxical,” she muttered before pulling away.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

She looked up at him and sighed before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He admired her, that orange glow illuminating half her face, her emerald eyes shining even brighter as the moonlight casted it’s soft mercury glow onto the other half.

He felt a compelling force that almost pushed him down, if only to… well, he wasn’t sure. He felt some great pull towards her, a desire for something but he didn’t know what. He saw that in her eyes, he saw so much in them. That mysterious and compelling force.

She leaned back, taking her hand into his. “Let’s go back. The long way, yeah?”

He nodded and walked with her back down the street of Hogsmeade.

They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to talk, which was not an infrequent occurrence with them. Sometimes, the only thing they needed to say could be expressed with the silence, the energy that they could feel passing between them.

As they got to Hogwarts, it was around dinner time, so not too close to the curfew, but it was close, so Talbott and Alexus knew they had to be careful about avoiding any teachers or other staff members as they walked past the Great Hall.

Eventually, they walked outside and into the Courtyard. They held hands still as they sat at the base of the fountain.

Alexus took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

He smiled before opening the two bottles of butterbeer, setting one down next to her before he took a swig from his own.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Nothing, actually,” she replied, opening her eyes and grabbing her bottle. “Just… the sound of the fountain, and the silence of the night, it’s always relaxing, to me. I missed it, while I was in the Hospital Wing.”

“Yeah? You sneak out here often?” he asked, reaching through his bag, pulling out his box of jelly slugs.

“Not as often as you go to the Owlery for the same reasons,” she replied before taking a long drink from her bottle.

He gave a small chuckle and opened the box. He selected a strawberry and lime flavored slug and bit into it, leaning back before looking at Alexus.

He was startled to see her looking at him, that intense look, where the expression holds the million thoughts running through her head faster than light, every single one causing the most minute shift on her face, but at the same time, all those million thoughts were about one subject. Him.

Her eyes, catching the moonlight again fixated on him, one eyebrow raised, the other pressed down in the lightest furrow, a crease in her forehead because of it. Her lips, pursed together, mostly hidden under the hand that she pressed to her mouth, one corner of her lips only just lifted and visible next to her thumb. Anyone else might have seen a soft neutrality, a few thoughts, a contemplating look. He saw that and so much more.

The way something lit up in her eyes when he looked at her, the flush in her cheeks, a centimeter rise in that one corner of her lips. He did that, by looking at her.

He felt that great pull on him again, like there was something inside his chest, in his instincts that was gripping him, trying to move him forward. He wondered if this was what being under the Imperius Curse was like. Something was trying to control him? No. He’d read personal recounts from survivors, about the effects, and this was not that.

But what was this pull?

Alexus slid her hand over his and reached over him, grabbing one of his jelly slugs for herself. She bit the head off and chewed before laying her head on his shoulder.

He moved his arm to wrap it around her lower back and pulled her closer.

“I hope the lack of eventfulness was okay for our first date,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her crown softly for a second.

“With my daily routine? Lack of eventfulness was the best thing you could have planned. Thank you for making me feel ordinary for the night.”

He chuckled. “Somehow, I don’t think you can be ordinary, Alexus. You are… fantastically remarkable.”

“And you are fantastically corny.”

He laughed, turning away from her to hide his little outburst, which made her laugh.

“Corny, but appreciated,” she assured him, gently putting a hand on his chest reassuringly.

He looked down at her, at the laughing grin on her face, and as she was wiping away a tear from her eye, he leaned down, tilting his head.

He kissed her.

So suddenly, he kissed her, soft lips meeting softer lips, eyes closed, her hands sliding across his arms to wrap around his shoulders, his hands moving to cup her face.

As suddenly as he kissed her, he pulled away, taking a couple deep breathes, watching her, eyes wide, mouth agape with a breathless panting. Her cheeks grew warm rapidly under his hands.

“I-I’m sorry… I don’t… uh… I don’t know what came o-”

She cut him off by leaning up and kissing him this time.

It was hard for him to say how long passed before one of them pulled away again.

When they kissed, he discovered in about five seconds that time became lost. The world was lost. Stars twinkled around in the sky above them, water trickled into the pool behind them. Talbott could swear he felt the ground move beneath them. Until it was all lost. There was nothing around them, there was no world, no stars, no water, no ground.

Just her.

Just him.

Just them together, connected in the purest form of a kiss.

When it was over, when they were pulling away from each other, the noise of the world slowly came back. There was that water trickling, soft insects calling in the night. An owl hooted somewhere far away, a wolf howled in the distant forest. Heavy footsteps clacked on the stone floor nearby, and it was coming closer.

Talbott and Alexus looked at each other before at their supplies from Honeydukes.

“Conceal it!” she whispered quickly, whipping out her wand, Talbott following suit. They quickly casted the disillusionment charm over their bags and bottles before pocketing their wands. They nodded to each other before assuming their animagus forms, Talbott as a brown eagle, Alexus was a chihuahuan raven. They flew up, right to the end of the courtyard as some… unknown person walked into the courtyard.

Alexus watched, ready to fly away at the first sign of trouble. Whenever dark-hooded figures with most of their faces obscured walked in her general area, it was never good, and they always seemed to be for her.

Talbott let out of call, a warning one.

Alexus looked at him, where he was perched on a ledge that overlooked the courtyard.

Alexus got ready to fly away, waiting for when the stranger would least likely be bothered by two non-nocturnal birds. She watched as the wizard stalked around the courtyard, poking stone with his wand.

As his back was turned, Alexus called out to Talbott, and they both spread their wings to take off. This was something they had to report, and fast.

They flew up, Alexus aiming for the sky to disappear into when there was a terrible, fiery pain in her right wing. She cried out, the vocalization coming out as a pained caw.

The wind was rushing through her feathers from her rapid descent.

She landed on her side, curling her arm into herself, black feathers swaying onto the ground around her.

“Alexus Johnson, small raven. Right there in the registry where any one can read it,” the wizard said, making his way over to her.

Alexus groaned, slowly sitting up, her wand in her grip, but she couldn’t lift her arm, it hurt too much to bend it. Her cardigan and shirt sleeves had already been burned or blasted off.

“It’s a chihuahuan raven, actually,” she corrected the wizard as he pointed it wand at her. “The base of the neck has a white coloration, native more to the Mexico and western United States area.”

The wizard didn’t say anything as he stood over Alexus.

Alexus smiled and set her wand down. “I’m not coming quietly. In fact, I’m not coming with you at all,” she assured him as she slowly rose to her feet, eyes trained on his wand.

“You know what ‘R’ wants, so you might as well make it easy now. Before we make you abide by our ideals.”

Alexus laughed lightly. “No.”

There was a screech and Talbott descended, talons extended, right towards the dark wizard’s face.

While he was distracted, Alexus stooped down to grab her wand with her left arm.

“Get away!” she shouted to Talbott.

He flew off, and Alexus sent a powerful blasting spell at the dark wizard, sending him flying back across the courtyard, landing in the fountain.

Talbott landed next to Alexus, turning back into human as he did. He pulled out his wand and kept it trained on the wizard.

“Do we run?” he asked.

“No, he’ll slip away.” Alexus walked to the wizard, ready to attack if he moved. “You go get a teacher, Dumbledore, Filch, anyone. We can’t let him get back to ‘R’ when he knows.”

Talbott didn’t want to leave Alexus alone, but he knew she could handle the wizard better than he could. But he still hesitated, looking at her.

“Talbott, go!” she insisted as the dark wizard started to stir.

She wanted to watch him leave as he ran into the castle, but she was too terrified to take her eyes off of the dark wizard.

“So… ‘R’ must be getting more desperate, if they’re just sending any idiot to try and retrieve me,” she commented as the wizard slowly sat up from the water.

“What can we say? Your work with the Vaults continues to be impressive.”

“I believe I have given you my answer already. Incarcerous!” Ropes sprang from the tip of her wand and coiled tightly around the torso of the dark wizard, binding his arms to his sides.

She walked over and grabbed his discarded wand, kicking it further across the courtyard.

“You gave us the wrong answer,” the wizard said, nonchalantly.

“Ferula,” Alexus muttered, pointing her wand at her burn. Bandages delicately wrapped around the injury. She’d find Chiara for a more permanent solution.

“It is cute that you think ‘R’ is giving you a choice.”

“Stupif-!”

“PROTEGO!” Alexus shouted, twirling on her heel, slashing her wand up, throwing up a quick shield to counter the second assailant’s attempt to stun her as they came up from behind. The force of her opponent’s spell on her shield made her slide back a few inches.

“You didn’t think I’d come alone to collect such a… volatile target?” the man asked, inching his way out of the fountain as Alexus faced the new dark wizard.

“I was certainly hoping, but I guess no one wants to be alone today,” she muttered, planting her foot behind her. “Expelliarmus!”

The wizard dodged and sent his own spell back to her, causing her to jump to the side.

“Locomotor Mortis!”

Alexus tripped as her legs were bound together. She swore under her breath and gripped her wand as the wizard advanced upon her.

“Flipendo Maxima!” she shouted, trying to buy herself more time, but he blocked that too.

“Stupify!”

All Alexus saw was red sparks and then stars. Lights and shadows swimming in the darkness of her vision. She groaned and turned on her side, towards the fountain. Vision was slowly coming back to her, her surroundings blurred.

Semi-conscious…. Semi-conscious was better than unconscious, which could have been the outcome with the stunning spell.

She saw the two dark wizards at the fountain as blurred figures, coming in and out of focus. “She really got you, didn’t she?” the second assailant asked as he undid the ropes on his companion.

“She had a bird friend, another animagus. Little bastard got my face, went to get help.”

She looked at her hand, extended, laying on the ground.

Her wand…

She had a wand.

“We better get out of here quickly.”

She moved her fingers, brushing along the stone. It must have been knocked out of her grip. Then, she felt it. That familiar wood, the warmth in her fingertips as she found her wand. She gripped it firmly and looked back at the two. The second one was helping the first wizard up out of the fountain. She pointed her wand at the ground by them. “Bombarda!”

The second wizard jumped back as there was a small explosion at his feet, the first wizard falling back into the fountain.

She sat up as the second dark wizard whirled around to face her.

“Everte Statum!”

“Lacarnum Inflamari!”

His robes caught on fire as she was sent rolling back across the courtyard, stopping when her body collided with the far wall, a sharp pain in her torso where the spell hit her.

“PUT IT OUT!” the wizard shouted, stomping on his dark cloak rapidly.

“My wand!” the other one shouted, jumping out of the fountain and looking at the dark ground.

If Alexus wasn’t reeling, she’d be laughing, but as the pain was subsiding, she slowly climbed to her feet as the wizard just shrugged off his robe, revealing his face.

He was a gruff-looking figure, with patchy black and white facial hair on his jaw, his head shaved, a massive scar on his scalp. His dark eyes pierced Alexus as he raised his wand.

Where was Talbott? Should it have taken him this long to get help? Was he on his way with Dumbledore and all she had to do was stall?

“I told your friend, I wasn’t going to come quietly,” she said, raising her wand as well

“And I told your friend, I’m willing to take you in bloody if that’s what it takes.” He shot a spell at her, and she jumped to the side before firing her own at him.

“What did you do to him?” she asked, trying to keep her voice bold and even.

“Just gave him a full-body bind so he wouldn’t have to get any pesky teachers involved. Someone will find him, but you’ll be gone by then.”

Alexus set her jaw. Talbott would be terrified. She couldn’t let him be any more scared than he already was with her in her danger. But more importantly, they got to Talbott. They hurt him. She couldn’t let that slide either.

If Talbott was in that courtyard in that second, only he would have seen the darkness in her eyes, like a thunderstorm overtaking clear, green, rolling fields. A brewing and dangerous storm that made it seem like the sky was about to explode, Heaven’s fury being unleashed like Hell’s wrath.

Alexus focused her wand on the men in front of her as the wizard finally found his wand and joined his partner.

The air became still for a second as the intensity of the silent rage culminated in her chest.

“Incendio!” she shouted, waving her wand in arch before herself, sending a wall of flames to the men in front of her.

They only had time to wave the flames away in one swoop before she thrusted her wand forward, at their feet.

“Confringo!”

The bald wizard threw his arms in front of his face while his friend jumped back as shards of stone flew up in all directions from their feet.

She sent furious spell after furious spell, making them dodge and jump out of the way to avoid serious injury. Now that there was no backup, she had to win.

“Expelliarmus!” she disarmed the bald wizard, his wand flying behind him.

He looked at the discarded wand behind him before back at her. “Who knew you had such a weakness, Miss Johnson? Don’t worry, weaknesses aren’t allowed in ‘R’ so that will be fixed soon enough.”

She froze, only for a second, but that was enough for the other wizard.

“Diffindo!”

The air stilled again.

Alexus pressed her hand against her stomach, shuddering as she felt something arm and stick saturating her clothes and hand. Gulping, she pulled it away and held it up in front of her face, even if she already knew. In the moonlight, she saw the dark stain on her hands.

Before she could do another thing, before she could even think about healing herself, the first wizard snapped his wand at her.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Eyes widened, mouth slightly agape, wand outstretched, bloody hand near her chest, she became frozen.

The first wizard rushed forward as the second one went to retrieve his wand.

“There we go,” the first one muttered as he moved his wand over her injuries, healing her slowly.

“Don’t need to kill ya, just needed you stunned enough.”

Alexus moved her eyes, watching him as the wound disappeared, like it was never there. He patted her head when he finished. She would have broken his hand if he could move.

“Ready to go?” he called back to the bald wizard as he picked up his wand.

“Take her wand from her first. I’ll bind her, you unfreeze her.”

The first wizard snatched her wand from her hands and took a few steps back.

Alexus watched the bald wizard and he raised his wand at her. “On three.”

“One… Two…”

“THREE!” Alexus looked past them just in time to see the red sparks before the first wizard was sent flying forward, skidding at her feet.

The bald wizard turned around only to be knocked back the same distance, his back colliding onto the wall behind her.

“Excellent knockback, Mr. Winger!” Professor Flitwick complimented, pocketing his wand after knocking the second assailant.

Alexus had never been more relieved to see her head of house and the Headmaster before, but it was Talbott’s presence who reassured her the most. He was okay.

He gave no acknowledgement, instead, running over to Alexus.

He cupped her face lightly and looked down at her. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” he asked.

She wanted desperately to collapse into his arms. For him to hold her as she felt her legs could no longer support her. But she couldn’t. She could just control her eyes and even then, she couldn’t stop the heavy streams of tears that spilled, cascading down her cheeks, catching on his hands.

“Mr. Winger, I believe she is petrified at the moment,” Professor Dumbledore stepped forward. “Allow me.”

With a wave of his wand, Alexus stumbled forward, right into Talbott’s waiting arms.

She closed her eyes and stifled a sob in his chest, wrapping her arms around his torso and hiding her face into his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, softly, cupping the back of her head with his hand, holding her close to him.

“Miss Johnson, are you hurt?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

Alexus pulled away and took a breath, quickly collecting herself. “My arm, it got burned.” She extended it to show the bandages she had placed on her arm.

“I see. Mr. Winger, will you please escort Miss Johnson to the Hospital Wing to be treated while we take care of the mess here?” Dumbledore requested.

“Yes, Professor. We’ll go straight away.”

Talbott gently placed his hand on her back and they began walking, but hadn’t taken more than two steps when Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.

“Miss Johnson?” he called, prompting them to look back.

“Yes, Professor?” she asked hesitantly.

“Your wand, don’t forget it please!” he held up her wand, which he retrieved from the first wizard.

“Oh! Right, thank you, professor,” she said while walking over. She took it and nodded in thanks before walking back to Talbott. They finally left the courtyard, silently.

He kept his hand on her back, reluctant to not feel her with him, but she didn’t mind. She stayed close to him as they walked.

When they went into the Hospital Wing, it was filled with mostly petrified students. But there was also Chiara Lobosca, attending to a girl who looked sickly with a very runny nose.

“Just take this potion before bed and your cold will go away by the end of the night. Be mindful of smoke in the ears,” the Hufflepuff was advising the girl as they approached.

“Chiara,” Alexus said, softly.

She turned around, a pleasant expression on her face, but when she saw Alexus, the bandages, the blood, her eyes turned as big as the moon.

“Alexus!” she almost cried, quickly walking in front of her.

“The slice was healed, I’m not bleeding anymore, but I am faint from the loss of blood I did experience, but the most severe injury is my arm, it’s burnt under the bandages I applied. I was in a duel. Don’t tell the Circle yet.”

Chiara blinked, processing, before nodding and she quickly guided Alexus to an empty bed.

“Are you okay?” she asked, gently extending Alexus’s arm out and unwrapping the bandages.

“Barely. Talbott got Dumbledore and Flitwick just in time,” Alexus winced at the movement.

“Thank you, Talbott,” Chiara said, looking at him before back at Alexus.

She looked at the burn before back at Talbott. “There are bandages in that cabinet. Can you please get them for me?”

He nodded and walked over to the cabinet while Chiara gently traced her wand on Alexus’s wound.

Alexus flinched and wanted to yank her arm away, but the skin slowly started to mend.

She bit her lip and turned her head away from the healer and tried to suppress any cry or outburst.

“There we go, you did good,” Chiara assured her before pocketing her wand again.

Talbott came back with the bandages.

Chiara took them and began dressing the wound, slowly wrapping the bandages loosely over the area.

“It will take a few days to heal fully, but there shouldn’t be any scarring as long as you leave it alone.”

“Thank you, Chiara,” Alexus said. She gently moved her arm back and looked at the bandages.

“Remember, if you want to talk about it, I’ll always listen,” she reminded.

Alexus looked at Chiara, incredibly touched. “You’re too kind,” she said, smiling softly. “I’m good for now. I think now is a good time to call in the night.”

“Goodnight, then, you two. Hope your next date is safer!”

Talbott walked into a hospital bed and slammed his leg into the railing while Alexus nearly fell off her bed.

“Who told you?” they both asked, almost shouting, making the healer jump back.

“Penny! Penny told me before she went to help you get ready!” she quickly said.

Alexus groaned and buried her face into her hands. “Hasn’t she ever heard of stylist-client confidentiality?” she cried.

“Oh no,” Talbott muttered under his breath, remembering Andre.

“Well, you two better get going! Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help!” Chiara quickly and pleasantly excused herself before walking to another student across the Wing from them.

Talbott looked at Alexus, resigned.

Without a word between them, they both walked out of the Hospital Wing.

The second they closed the doors behind them, they looked at each other.

Alexus gave him a weak smile. “Thank you. You… definitely saved my life.”

“I’m sorry that your cardigan got ruined.”

Alexus snorted and looked at the burnt off sleeve that now ended at her bicep. “I can remedy it… I think.”

Now he snorted. He looked down the hall and sighed. “Let’s head to the Common Room, before Snape or someone deducts house points for being attacked after hours.”

She laughed and grabbed his arm gently before leading the way.

“Hopefully, our sweets are still there by the morning, we can get them then,” Talbott said.

“They were still invisible by the time we left, so they might be,” Alexus agreed hopefully.

“I’m sorry this… didn’t end up how I wanted it to,” he looked down at her.

“You don’t have to apologize, Talbott,” she assured him. “It was magical. I had a really great time.”

“I’m glad.” He glanced at her and took a breath. “The… kissing… was that okay? I should have asked, and-”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you back if it wasn’t,” she assured him. “You don’t have to worry, you gave me an amazing night. I was ordinary for a couple hours. That’s the best thing you could give me.”

He gently nudged her side with his arm. “I told you before, you’re incapable of being ordinary. You’re… the most… remarkable girl I’ve met.”

She smiled. “You make me feel remarkable, Talbott. I’m really just doing things that need to be done. And sometimes, doing those things…”

“Lead you down a hard path?” Talbott completed for her.

“Yes. You’re the one I want to walk with me. I know that now. I realized that when I was dueling, oddly enough.” She looked forward.

“Oh?” he said, not pressing her to continue, but he still wanted her to say more.

“It’s… that dark wizard, he told me he petrified you. I… lost it. I was scared. You could have been hurt, I couldn’t just… let them get away with that.”

He looked at her, not sure of what to say. He was stunned, but unharmed. Dumbledore and Flitwick had stumbled upon him in the hall. All he could say was that Alexus was in danger before running off. He was terrified for her. He thought she was going to die and it would have been his fault for not being better. That he could have done more. Just like with his parents.

He just brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently before they continued walking.

The common room was almost empty, students tired from a night of festivities, winding down, talking to one another about their dates and otherwise.

“Hey,” he tugged on her hand before pulling her to a nearby bench, gesturing to sit down. “Before you go up to your dorm, I had… one more thing planned.”

She tilted her head, looking at him quizzically.

He gave a small smile before pulling a small box out of his pocket. He held it out to her.

She took it and gave him a small smile before opening it. Her eyes widened when she saw the contents.

“Talbott,” she said softly before grabbing the silver braided chain and pulling the necklace out.

There was a single charm, a brown eagle feather.

“From my own wing,” he muttered.

She looked at him before kissing his cheek. “I love it,” she whispered before quickly fastening it around her own neck.

“I’m glad,” he said, relieved.

She admired the feather before looking at him apologetically. “I didn’t… get you anything, but… I was thinking… I could maybe… read a poem to you?”

He pulled out a small booklet from his other jacket pocket. “I’ve been waiting all night to open this.”

She snatched it from him. “Reyes’s Handpicked Poems!” she exclaimed.

“I may have already marked a couple,” he said, a little slyly, a self-satisfied smile crossing his face as she eagerly thumbed through the collection. “It’s not as hefty as The Romantic Collection we fight over, but there’s something charming about knowing these are the author’s favorites.”

She stopped on a page and quickly skimmed it. “Found one,” she muttered before leaning against him. He quickly wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head, closing his eyes

Come see me, Eros Where the woodland sings of their secret songs of the evergreen

Come see me, Eros In the break of the trees Where Apollo touches the land where lovers meet

Come see me, Eros In this forestry dream Surrounded by nymphs and Demeter’s love

Come save me, Eros Follow me down Where Hades’ lips kiss away the light

Come save me, Eros From Thanatos’ grip that’s keeping me away from you

Talbott sighed. “That’s a sad one,” he muttered.

“It’s heavily symbolic, which just adds weight,” she agreed.

“Death of the Lover… what a perfect poem to end Valentine’s Day on,” he muttered sarcastically.

She closed the book and looked at him. He waited for her sarcastic rebuttal, but instead, she kissed him.

He was shocked, but he wasn’t going to complain, and instead, placed his hand on her cheek, closing his eyes.

“Oh dammit all to Hell, they’re kissing!”

They pulled away quickly and turned to see Tulip Karasu fuming. Alexus didn’t like the look in her eyes before the mischievous Ravenclaw ran to their dorm room. “BADEEA! TELL TONKS PENNY WON! I’M OUT FIVE SICKLES!”

“Oh… Merlin’s saggy left…” Alexus grumbled before burying her face into her hands while Talbott sighed.

There were better, more romantic notes to end their first Valentine’s date on, but this was not one of them, it seems.

[thebeethathums]

A Second Chance 7/?

John Watson x Reader x Mycroft Holmes

Notes: Transfering my old fics from 2014 to here! This particular story splits off after chapter 10 to a John x Reader and Mycroft x Reader… kinda like a choose your own path thing.

As always if you can’t find the next chapter message me or check out my DeviantArt or Archive of Our Own under the same username.

After leaving the table, you quietly padded to the library. No one would disturb you there, as Violet knew it was your sanctuary and Sherlock wasn’t one to interrupt your intellectual pursuits. Grabbing a couple of familiar titles and one unfamiliar one, you flopped down in your favorite chair by the window, tucking your legs up underneath you and spreading your skirt over them before leaning back to rub the window frame. It was a tradition you, Sherlock, and even Mycroft shared. The frame could be reached from various chairs- though yours was the only one that looked out the window-  and whenever one of you sat down you had to rub your thumb against it in the same place each time, the deeper and shinier the dip you created by wearing down the wood, the longer you’d spent there. Your dip was already fairly deep by this point, as you were often in the library in that chair over the years, but you rubbed it out of habit and then cracked open Ovid’s Metamorphoses. It was a favorite of yours, there were notes in your hand scribbled throughout it from the various times you’d taken it up, but what interested you now were the comments in a much cleaner print amongst your own.

You wondered if there would be anything new from your literary friend, which was how you chose to think of whoever added their own comments and even commented on your notes in not only this book but various others in the library as well. People came and went from the mansion often over the years, as your adoptive parents were quite the socialites, so you assumed your literary friend was one of your father’s frequent visitors but you didn’t really care who it was in the end. You enjoyed the mystery of it as well as their comments, which were witty and at times very insightful. You skimmed, looking for anything different and, finding nothing, you flipped to a random story and began reading, blocking out the world around you and the troubled thoughts in your mind. Mycroft froze when he walked into the library, trying to clear his head of you and the new effect you seemed to be having on him, only to find the very person he was working to forget sitting in his favorite chair with his favorite book in hand. You were doing this to aggravate him, he decided, you had to be. Why else would you be there in that spot with that book right after he’d snubbed you at the table? He was about to calmly ‘encourage’ you to leave in that way that he had when he saw you shove your hand down in between the chair’s cushions, rummaging around a bit with your lip caught between your teeth before giving a triumphant grin as your hand emerged with a pen. He tilted his head slightly, falling into observation mode as you clicked it and began to scribble on the page you had the book open to. The conclusions he came to in his mind were sound, he knew it, but at the same time, he refused to believe them. He’d had far too many surprises today, first with reacquainting himself with you, then the garden’s origins, and then your surprising fire and intelligence at the table. Mycroft hated surprises. He didn’t doubt himself, no it wasn’t that, it was that he hoped for his continued sanity he was wrong. “What are you doing?” his voice caused you to visibly jump and your hold on the pen tensed, gripping it like a weapon out of instinct. You turned to him with your mouth agape, anger flashing through your eyes for a moment before you looked down at the book with a resigned air as you answered in a defensive tone, “Moth-Violet said it was alright if I took notes in the margins.” He proceeded cautiously like a cat stalking its prey, “Keeping a pen tucked away in that chair would mean you’ve been doing so for quite some time.” You fiddled with the edge of your dress uncomfortably but your answer was firm, “Since shortly after I began to live here. I always sit here and finding a pen otherwise is tedious.” He’d closed the gap to loom over you, trying to be intimidating, but you were having none of it, looking up at him with your lips set in a hard line and a defiant spark in your eyes, “But you already knew that didn’t you?” His eyes searched yours… had they always been that fantastic color? How had he missed so much? He’d never actually taken the time to do anything but scorn you. You hadn’t been worthy of the minimal effort it took his mind to observe things like appearance but now it seemed that you had completely taken over his mind and he couldn’t help but memorize every detail. Your expression softened a bit as your actions mirrored his, your eyes trying to figure out what his intentions were by searching the spheres that stared back at you. They were a peculiar shade of grey mixed with flecks of blue and green much like Sherlock’s but far darker and, if possible, far more intelligent. There was a brief moment where you wondered what they would look like if the light hit them before you set your jaw, “If you’re going to try and get me to stop, save your breath. I’m not the only one who writes in these books.” You went back to your writing in an act of blatant defiance as you assumed he disapproved of your actions, but he was calm as he smirked, “You don’t need to inform me of my own actions.” Furrowing your brow momentarily, your eyes snapped up to meet his again, “You?” You suddenly stood, discarding your book and pen on an end table, and began to move across the room, “If this is some joke Mycroft, it is in poor humor.” “I can assure you I dislike the notion as much as you do but it is, in fact, true.” You stopped and pressed your hands over your face, Mycroft couldn’t be your literary friend. He just couldn’t. All the things you’d shared with him, the thoughts and random ideas that you’d tucked away in old leather-bound copies of your favorite titles, now felt like an intrusion. The more you thought about it, the more sense it made, he was the only one who was there often enough to account for the amount of notes in that handwriting. Why hadn’t you seen it before? Mycroft watched your conflict play out on your face, there was no denying he’d been right about you being his mystery scribbler now and the idea was just as troubling to him as it was to you. You had surprised him yet again and he was beginning to wonder if his immediate hatred towards you had clouded his mind. Perhaps he’d misjudged you all these years. He thought about the many times he’d almost craved for the mystery person to write something new so he could respond and how their comments could make him chuckle or inspired a new line of thinking. All that had been you. It meant that you were far more intelligent than he gave you credit for. It also meant, he realized with a light blush, that you had read his attempts at poetry on the blank pages at the backs of some books and, furthermore, you’d written him praises. Composing yourself at a rather surprising rate, you silently padded to a ladder at one of the bookshelves, stepping up a few rungs before leaning rather precariously over until your outstretched hand found what you were looking for. You pulled it off the shelf, wobbling precariously as Mycroft came to your side to be ready in case you fell, as it looked you were going to. Quickly righting yourself, you turned to lean against the ladder and look down at him as you opened the book and read, I live in a world of goldfish Brilliant flashes of false gold As they swim about the face Of this place they call home They can never understand Attention waning as fast as it came Blissful minds, unaware of truth Leaving me enlightened and alone Alone in a world of things not known It was quiet for a moment, “You wrote that… nearly seven years ago I believe. It’s brilliant.” You stepped down off the ladder and pushed the book into his hands, stepping past him before pausing, “That poem was the reason I left six years ago. I wanted to see if somewhere out there people existed to be more than goldfish, to be beyond average… They do Mycroft. You are just a big fish in a small pond with your mind closed off to everything that could be.” You left him, floating away like a small stormy cloud with him looking after you in a slightly stunned and immensely curious way. He wanted to yell at you. To tell you that you couldn’t possibly understand, that you were wrong, but something stopped him. He looked down at the book in his hands and then flipped it open to the back page. It had been years since he’d read this book or the poem he’d scrawled in it and he was surprised to find, what he now knew to be, your distinctive scrawl there alongside his own. It read, Do not feel alone Use what is known Open your mind And you will find Minds in kind It was oddly simple but resounded through him so strongly he felt as though he couldn’t move. You were right. He’d closed himself off, held himself apart. It had made him blind to what could be and what was. Intelligence does not make you alone, Sherlock had proven that by making friends. It was his arrogance and pride that made him alone. He sat down in the chair by the window, reaching to rub his thumb on the window frame out of habit, and then folded his hands beneath his chin to think.

[illuminating-dragons]

Lay Here In My Arms (4/14): History Lessons

Summary:  Roxanne has a habit of putting her foot in her mouth. Luckily, she's met someone who has the right words. For @harryjamesheadcanons​

Pairing: Roxanne Weasley/ Nat Blythe (Fading Scars) 

Read it on AO3

Roxanne spent much of her time in the library, so she got to know the other regulars. Not by talking; all of them were quiet. But she recognized the blond Slytherin who was always reading about Transfiguration, the Hufflepuff with hair as dark as his skin and bright blue eyes that never seemed to finish a book, and the Gryffindor who murmured in frustrated Vietnamese under their breath.

And she noticed Nat Blythe.

Nat was a year behind her, but Ravenclaws were a close bunch. Roxanne knew the favourite colours, work habits and family history about almost member of her House. Except Nat.Oh, if you asked Nat about herself, she would answer you truthfully. And she wasn’t alone that often; indeed, she had many friends. But when people really tried to pin her down, it was the work she did that people remembered.

The Ravenclaw common room had its own little library of commonplace books, which were free to use by anybody. It was a longstanding tradition that the first-years would take one and keep it with them, writing whatever they liked in them. When they were full, they would put them in the library for the others to read (categorized by subject, of course). There was no rule about only having one, but very few people had more than two kinds of thoughts that they would share with the others.

Nat Blythe took three.

One of her books found a home on the poetry shelf, and it was read a lot. Roxanne was one of the first, ready with her blue ink to offer constructive criticism (that had been drummed into their heads quickly, you don’t tear down other people’s work). Instead, she found herself underlining passages, and cooing out loud at the phrasing. She wasn’t the only one. Nat’s book was one of the most frequent read-alouds in the common room, and Nat would always just smile and say she was happy people got so much good from her writing, but had they read this other notebook, because there was so much cleverness there she could burst.

The second book was a collection of stories. They were charming, short and poignant. There were a few pages at the back of that one left blank, with a note from Nat saying that if anyone wanted to continue the stories, they were welcome to do so.

The third hadn’t been returned yet. Whenever Roxanne saw Nat, she had it tucked in her bag, just peeking out, like it was demanding new words. When Roxanne sat to do her homework in the library (which wasn’t often—the shelves themselves were too distracting, and she’d gotten more than one poor mark because she’d read something fascinating instead of the assignment), she would see Nat with a stack of books, reading carefully, and adding just one or two notations to the book. Once or twice Roxanne caught a glimpse of tiny handwriting, but she didn’t pry. Until it was on the shelf, it was private work.

When Roxanne was relaxing after her OWLs (done at last, no more nonsense, she was free from Potions forever!), she realized that she and Nat were the only two in this section of the library. Nat was deep in her research, and maybe because she was tired, maybe because she was happy, Roxanne spoke up at last.

“Your hair keeps falling in your face.”

Merlin, what had she just said?

Nat looked up. “I know. No matter what my stupid hair won’t stay.”

“I could help you,” Roxanne offered, trying to offer a reason for her ridiculous observation. She’d inherited her mother’s hair (in her father’s shade) but not her patience for braiding, and her curls would fall every which way if not for charmed ponytail holders and quite a bit of experimentation.

“Um…sure.”

Roxanne got up and stood behind Nat. She took soft brown hair in her hands, making sure to gather the long front hair, and twisted it carefully into a knot. Retrieving one of her ponytail holders from around her wrists, she wound it around the knot twice. Satisfied, she stepped away. “How’s that?”

Nat felt the knot. “It’s not coming out! It always does.”

“I have a gift. And a couple of Charms mixed together that my Uncle Lee taught me.”

“Can I borrow your Uncle Lee?”

“I can just make you some ponytail holders. They’re dead easy, and I have loads already.”

“Thanks. You’re Roxanne, right?”

“Yes. Nat?” It was odd, really odd to do introductions after sharing a common room, sharing words with someone for four years.

Nat grinned. “That’s me.”

“What are you working on?”

Roxanne, shut up! You’re not supposed to ask.

“I’m working on profiles.”

“Profiles? What do you mean?”

Nat showed her the book. There were short notes, about someone named Imogene Price.

“Who is she?”

“She was Voldemort’s maternal grandmother.”

Roxanne looked up. “Why?”

“I’m trying to…” Nat blushed. “I’m working on a big project, about the last two Wizarding Wars. Only I want to get the whole picture, tell everyone’s story. The dead, the living…it takes a long time, I’ve been working on it as long as I’ve been here.”

The notebook was only half-full.

“I was born after the war,” Nat said. “Of course I was. But my mother…she lost her cousins and her aunt and uncle. And there are so many questions, and I wanted to try and remember everyone, everyone that died and lived…all those stories. I don’t want them to get lost.”

Roxanne studied her for a minute. “How have you been doing this?”

“I look through history books for names, and then I start combing through records. There’s all sorts of stuff in here—old letters, even some diaries people donated. I’ve gotten all sorts of information.”

“You’ve never asked me,” Roxanne pointed out. “Or my cousins. Our family went through both Wars.”

Nat looked horrified. “Of course not! I would never ask that.”

“Why not? They do talk about the wars sometimes.”

“Yes, but…this is me trying to do a project. I would feel terrible asking a person to relive that.”

“How are you ever going to get the full story?”

“I don’t want to make anyone relive their losses,” Nat said stubbornly. “Not for curiosity.”

“You just said you wanted to make sure the stories don’t get lost,” Roxanne replied. “I’m sure they don’t want to either. They might ask you if you could wait to publish or something, but I think most of them would want you to tell the story as well as possible. And Nat, you can. You have beautiful writing.” She thought for a minute. “Could you write a profile of my Uncle Fred? I know my Dad would love it.”

Nat looked scared, but she swallowed hard. “Do you really think I’m good enough to do this?”

Roxanne thought of Nat’s poetry, the gentle way she treated heartbreak, and thought of her father’s grieving face each April 1st. “I think you just might be perfect.”

They met a few more times in the library before the end of term. Roxanne relayed every story she could remember about her uncle, and the last time they met invited Nat to her house. “Come and meet my family,” she urged her. “Dad knew him best.”

Nat was a little overawed by their house and the large assortment of family who traipsed through, but Roxanne’s Mum and Dad did their best to put her at ease.

When Nat brought up the profile Dad thought about it for a long moment. “I don’t want anyone to forget Fred,” he said at last. “And if Roxy says you’re the best one to do it, I believe her.”

They talked for three hours. Roxanne’s Mum went in at one point, and Roxanne heard the Floo crackling a couple of times, but she didn’t see who came. Nat stumbled out at the end, eyes swollen, and fell into Roxanne’s arms. Roxanne hugged her tight, hands going automatically to put Nat’s hair up in a bun.

When she pulled away, Nat’s eyes were feverish. “I need to write,” was all she said.

Roxanne went to get her tea (an advantage of not working in the library), and she kept Nat company while she wrote. Nat didn’t speak, and she crossed a lot of things out and muttered to herself, but she laid her free hand in Roxanne’s, tracing her knuckles with her thumb when she stopped to think.

When Nat presented Roxanne’s parents with her profile of Fred Weasley the first, they both cried. “You captured him,” George whispered. “Thank you, thank you so much…”

Angelina hugged Nat. “Your girlfriend is brilliant, Roxy,” she whispered, eyes overbright.

“Girlfriend?” Roxanne asked, stunned. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

This time she was quicker to understand, and before Nat’s face became too heartbroken, she continued quickly, “would you like to be?”

Nat ended up spending half the summer at Roxanne’s. Dad started talking to the rest of the family about Nat’s writing, and slowly people started coming over. At first they would talk about the dead—family, friends, classmates, neighbours. Nat’s commonplace book was nearly full when they started at last to speak about themselves.

When they went back to school, Roxanne was proud to hold Nat’s hand (her left one, always her left one), and they did spend some time together outside. They picnicked by the lake, traipsed through Hogsmeade together, and even explored the Forbidden Forest on a wintry night and saw three unicorns with a baby.

Most of their time together, though, was at the library. Roxanne would help Nat find the books she needed and organize the sources people owled her. Uncle Harry and Aunt Luna came one night and, very seriously, gave them several vials of crystal liquid, and pulled out the Pensieve from Professor McGonagall’s closet.

“We couldn’t find the proper words for these memories,” Uncle Harry said. “But they’re part of the story too. Watch them if you like.”

Roxanne cried during the memory of the celebration of Uncle Harry finishing the first Triwizard Task. “I’ve never seen Uncle Fred like this,” she sobbed. “Oh God, they were so young! Damn it, damn it…”

One commonplace notebook quickly became three, and then four, and then five. The school years flew by, as if they both couldn’t wait to be finished. In some ways, they couldn’t. Madam Pince had already informed Roxanne that she would be taking over the Hogwarts librarian position when she was finished, and she was planning how to change some parts of the library, to incorporate some new ways to find material (they needed an upgrade, and if they couldn’t have Google they would have the next best thing). Nat was ready, at last, to turn all of her profiles into a book, and try and publish it.

“And I’ll have a very good looking librarian to help me finish my research,” Nat added.

As busy as they were, Nat made sure that Roxanne took time to finish her own commonplace book. Roxanne hadn’t shared it with anyone until Nat, always making up stories about what was inside it (“murder plots”, “dragon patterns”, and “Nunya” were the top answers).

When Roxanne opened it, most of the pages were filled. “It’s code,” she blushed. “I like playing with letters and numbers, and I’m trying to develop one that’s easy to remember, quick, and difficult to crack.”

“Not impossible?”

“Nothing’s impossible. My Uncle Ron hasn’t been jinxed to death by Aunt Ginny yet.”

Nat laughed.

Roxanne never did find a perfect code, but the one she developed that Nat couldn’t crack (“c’mon, Roxy, I know you better than anyone!”) she wrote outside of the notebook. She gave it to her cousin Teddy, who was starting at the Aurors.

When Nat graduated, she still spent most of her time at the Hogwarts library. She and Roxanne lived together in the little librarian’s room, which turned out to be right off the Restricted Section. Uncle Harry was indignant when he found out.

“Nobody’s ever mapped this place!”

“Uncle Harry, do you really think the Marauders would have been in Madam Pince’s bedroom?” Roxanne asked.

She’d never seen her uncle go quite that shade of red.

Nat’s book was published two years later. It was called Lives in War, stretched to two volumes, and kept selling out so fast bookstores couldn’t keep it in stock.

Everyone loved it, which didn’t surprise Roxanne at all. Nat got several owls from people who hadn’t come forward during the writing, asking if she wouldn’t mind writing something about a family member, about a story they knew, a friend they had lost. Nat said yes to all of them, but she was about to have two new demands on her time (she still managed to write a sequel a few years later, which technically took less time than the first).

The first was a teaching appointment. Professor Binns wanted to retire at last, and Nat and Roxanne moved to the History of Magic quarters (better windows, and less mumbling books).

The second was their wedding, the first since Teddy and Victoire, and the whole family got in on it. They had to hold their wedding at Hogwarts getting married (where else?) in the library, before going outside for a picnic lunch with all the guests. It was the only place where there was room for everyone who wanted to come.

A year later, they took their third time demand on by themselves. A little girl, three years old, whose mother had died before she could get to Dean and Parvati’s shelter. She was darker than Roxanne and bubblier than Nat, once she got used to her new mummies.

They raised Kitty at Hogwarts, and she spent most of the time Nat was teaching in the library with Roxanne, looking at history books.

After all, what else?

[deviantstormtrooper]

Sleep Chapter Four

Please note this chapter is NSFW and contains some sexual scenes. The NSFW stuff is under the read more link.

I look down at Ellie as I hold her in my arms, she said yes, she agreed to marry me. I will be her husband and she will be my wife. I like watching her when she is relaxed and happy. I start at her head with the auburn hair that I love so much. It is longer now, it almost touches her waist. I love to stroke it and run my fingers through it. Playing with Ellie's hair relaxes her and she loves to lie in my lap as I massage her scalp.

I move my gaze downwards to her eyes, they are a beautiful shade of green. I think I could spend all day getting lost in them. My eyes drift towards Ellie's lips; she has a smile that she keeps just for me. I always feel blessed when she flashes me that smile. She looks stunning when she smiles. Ellie has a beautiful face, she will always be my goddess.

Her throat is next, it is the perfect canvas for kisses from my lips, I love the little noise of satisfaction she makes whenever I kiss her there. I know all of the spots that are sensitive to touch on her body. Touching her ribs on her right side make her sigh with pleasure. She also likes the inner side of her arms, just above her elbow, stroked. She says it feels good, it is the same with her wrists. She is very sensitive to touch in many places. I love the noises that she makes when I touch her. Her breasts fit my hands and mouth perfectly. When we make love I fit completely inside her, our bodies were made for each other. I love it when she whispers my name in the height of her pleasure, I am hers and she is mine, always.

I turn my attention back to Ellie, she is still wearing my shirt, I love it when she does that, it says that she is mine. It is covering her naked body after we made love last night. I love that I am the only person who has seen her bare skin. She is a vision, all soft skin and curves I love to run my hands over. I always tell her how beautiful she is when we make love. I know she suffers with a little insecurity from time to time. The world can be a harsh place to women and make them feel bad about their bodies, no matter how much they weigh.

My eyes drift further down her body to her legs, I love it when she wanders around the house with her bare legs showing. I also love it when she tangles her legs with mine as we lay in bed together. It always feels good to have her so close to me and every inch of our bodies touching. It feels so good when she wraps her legs around me as I make love to her. It is as though she is trying to pull me closer and closer to her.

I carefully lift her chin with two fingers and I look into her eyes until our lips meet, we don't need words. I pour all of my feelings into the kiss we are sharing. Her hand moves into my hair and her fingers tickle the back of my neck. I sigh into the kiss, I love it when she touches me there. Her mouth opens and I stroke her tongue with mine. I hear her sigh in pleasure as our kiss deepens and her other hand strokes over the skin on my bare chest.

I slowly break the kiss and look into Ellie's eyes, her pupils have dilated and her skin is somewhat flushed. It still amazes me that kissing me does that to her. There was a time when I thought I would never get to kiss a woman, that I would never be attractive enough for anyone. Ellie always tells me that I am perfect for her and she will never need anyone else. I know without a doubt that she loves me, exactly how I am. Ellie's head settles back down on my chest and I stroke my hand over her hair. I smiled to myself as I remember that we are engaged to be married. Memories of how this all came about started to run through my mind.

It took me several months to decide how to propose to Ellie. I worked on a few different ideas on how to propose to her. I thought about taking her to the first restaurant that we went to as a couple and doing it there. I also thought about taking her to the beach and proposing there. I realised quickly that they were all too public for Ellie and I. I wanted her all to myself when I eventually proposed to her. I wanted it to be just the two of us so I could tell her how much she means to me.

When we started to plan going away together, I knew that it would be the perfect time to ask her. I tried to think of a time when I would ask Ellie to marry me, though it proved to be quite hard to do that. I thought about doing it when we went walking together or when we curled up together and watched some films. I eventually decided that I would make Ellie breakfast in bed and do it then. It still took me until the last day to work up the courage to ask her. I hoped that I was not about to make a fool of myself and she would say no. I am so glad that she said yes, I was so nervous when I got down on one knee in front of her. Thinking about proposing to Ellie has brought back memories of how I first got the idea of asking her to marry me.

It all started with the ring. I stumbled across it by accident, I found myself looking in the window of the small jewellers shop near my school. There it was, sat in the back row, a small platinum ring in the shape of an eternity symbol. There were tiny diamonds and emeralds embedded in one side of the curve. The thought dropped into my head that it would be the perfect engagement ring for Ellie. I went inside and asked to see it, it was even more perfect close up. I put a deposit on the ring that day and paid it off every month until I could finally take it home.

I hid the ring so Ellie would never find it until I was able to work up the nerve to propose. I was a little afraid that she would say no. I did not know at that point if she wanted to get married or if she was happy as we were. It was only when a programme was being aired about people getting married in cosplay that she mentioned anything remotely marriage related. Ellie said she would love a dress like one she saw on the programme, but nothing specific relating to marriage. I tried to play it cool so that she would not find out I was thinking of asking her to marry me.

I wondered if she had ever mentioned wanting to get married to one of our friends. I contacted Anakin, my teaching assistant, and he let me talk to Padmé, his wife. She told me that Ellie had not mentioned anything about marriage in the time they had spent together. She offered to bring up the subject and see how Ellie reacted. I thanked her for offering to help me in my quest to propose to the love of my life.

It was a long week until Padmé finally got in touch with me about Ellie and the subject of marriage. She told me that Ellie loved me very much and she thought that she would be open to the idea of getting married. I took her words as confirmation that I should go ahead with asking Ellie to marry me. I worked on speeches and what to say for so long, but everything I came up with felt wrong. I tried looking up poetry to recite to her about the wonder of love. I still felt as though I was missing something from my speech.

Anakin saved my neck this time, he saw that I was distracted during school one day and asked what was wrong. I told him everything about asking Ellie to marry me and how I was having trouble finding the perfect thing to say. He looked over everything I had written and then told me I needed to write what I wanted to say in my own words and from my heart. I realised he was right, I had been making it far too complicated for myself. I started afresh and simply wrote how I felt about Ellie and how I wanted to be with her forever.

Every time I saw Anakin, he asked me if I had managed to pop the question yet. I later found out that Padmé was asking him when he came home from work. It made me happy to think that our friends wanted us to get married and would support us. He sounded very happy when I told him that I would be asking Ellie on our trip away. I have no doubt that he and Padmé will be waiting to hear whether or not she said yes. I will call them on our return, for now I want to spend some time with the woman who will be my beautiful wife.

I look down at Ellie to find her looking up at me, she smiles and I smile back at her. She moves slowly until her legs are either side of my hips. Her eyes travel over my face and down my chest to where our bodies meet. I note the smile and the darkening of her eyes, I know what she wants. I smile back at her in agreement, I want her too.

Her fingers trace the outline of my face and then over my lips. They run down my throat and to my chest. Her hand moves in an unwavering line down the centre of my chest and stops at my belly. Her hand moves a bit further down to almost between my legs. I bite my lip in anticipation of her touching me, but she moves her hand away. I know how she likes to tease me a bit, it is working, I am already starting to get a bit hard from her touching me.

Suddenly her lips are on mine, all warmth and softness as she kisses me. I tangle my fingers in her hair and then brush them over her neck. I take advantage of her gasp of pleasure to push my tongue between her lips. Her hands move over my bare chest and I groan as her fingers brush against my nipple. I tickle my fingers over her spine and she pushes herself closer to my body. Her arms wrap around my back and her lower body brushes against my forming erection. I groan at the pleasure of it all, the sensations running right through me.

Ellie moves away from the kiss, I lay back on the bed and study her as she looks down at me. I notice the once more flushed skin and dilated pupils, her hair is messy where my hands have run through it. I can't help the smile that appears, I have made her look like that. I settle my hands on her thighs and caress the skin there. I move my fingers towards her inner thighs and she bites her lip as I move them slowly towards the apex. I know she likes being touched like this. I stop short of touching her where she wants me to and she groans in disappointment.

My hands still rest on her thighs, I move my hand upwards until it touches the buttons on the shirt she is wearing. “All in good time, my love. I want to see all of you, take it off.” Her eyes never leave mine as she slowly works on the buttons. Every movement reveals tantalising glimpses of her naked skin. My eyes follow the movement as she slips the shirt down her arms and she is left totally naked in front of my gaze.

She is stunning, I love to look at her. Her skin is smooth and gorgeously soft, it just begs to be touched. My eyes drift over her breasts and down to her belly, I love her curves, I can't wait to touch her and worship every inch of her body. “Ellie, my beautiful princess,” I whisper as my hands caress her naked skin. I hear her give a quiet moan as my fingers skim her nipples and move down to her belly. I want to make that moan of hers louder, it always sounds so sexy to my ears.

I move towards her and kiss her lips, she kisses me back immediately, my hands moving down her bare back. She presses herself against me when my lips move over her throat, a slightly louder moan coming from her. I stroke her breasts, teasing the nipples into hard peaks. I kiss every inch of her breasts, then I suck on her nipples, causing Ellie to moan.

“You sound sexy when you moan, do it again.” I hear another moan as I go back to lavishing her breasts in kisses, my fingers stroking her back and her belly.

“Obi-Wan,” she moans. “Please, touch me.”

“Where?” I ask. She guides my hand to between her legs and I realise how wet she is. She whimpers as my fingers brush against her clit.

“Seeing as you asked so nicely.” I stroke her gently, her moans coming faster as I touch her. I slip my fingers inside her and her arms tighten around my shoulders. I fasten my mouth onto her nipple and gently bite it, causing her to move faster on my fingers. I give the other breast the same treatment and she cries out in pleasure. I hear my name fall from her lips as her muscles clench around my fingers. I love to watch her fall apart underneath my touch, she is so beautiful in that moment.

I hold her close and stroke her hair as she comes down from her orgasm. I kiss her cheek and whisper how much I love her into her ear. She is still holding onto me tightly, I love having her naked body wrapped around me. She slowly moves and she looks me in the eyes, I know she wants something from me.

“Obi-Wan, you've got too many clothes on.” I realise she is talking about the fact I still have my pants on. I move away from Ellie until I am no longer wearing them and I join her on the bed once more. Her eyes never leave mine as I crawl up her body.

“Is that better?”

“Definitely,” she says with a smile that almost makes me blush. “I like seeing you this way, totally bared to my gaze and my touch.” Her hands move up my arms and she kisses me again. I lose myself in the kiss and the sensation of her hands roaming my body. I groan into her mouth as she brushes her hand against my now fully hard erection.

“Ellie, I want you, please, tell me I can have you.”

“I am yours, always, Obi-Wan.” I smile at those words, she is mine.

My hand moves steadily down her body and brushes against the curls that reside between her legs. I gently part her lips with my finger, I can feel how wet she still is. I rub at the little nub and she moves into my touch. I hear her gasp and moan as I speed up the movement of my fingers. Her hand grips the pillow and she parts her legs a bit wider to give me more access.

I kiss my way down her body and I eventually reach where I want to be. I kiss her thighs and bury my head between her legs, sucking on her clit. Her hand flies into my hair and grips it as I pleasure her with my mouth. I love doing this to her and hearing her moan loudly. She arches her back to get closer to my mouth. I push my fingers inside her and listen to the moans that are coming from her. I lick around her clit, tasting her, she tastes so sweet. I know she is close as her moans are more frequent. I push my fingers deeper inside her and suck harder on her clit. I am rewarded with her moaning my name again and her body clenching around my fingers. I gently lick her clean and then do the same to my fingers. I love how I can make her orgasm with my mouth and fingers.

I watch her as she recovers, her breaths ragged, her eyes closed and her skin flushed from her orgasm. She is stunning and I want to be inside her. I know I am hard, I have been since I started pleasuring Ellie with my fingers. I wait until she opens her eyes and they settle on my prominent erection. I see her bite her lip and smile, she knows exactly what she does to me.

I start to move over her but she rests her hand on my chest and eases me back onto the bed. I look into her eyes as she straddles my legs. She places her lips on mine and we share a kiss filled with passion and love. I groan into her mouth as she grips my erection and strokes it with her hand. Ellie knows how I like to be touched, she does not tease in this moment, she simply gives me her touch. I moan into her mouth again, having her touch me is the best feeling. I sense my orgasm building and Ellie stills her hand, she must have sensed it too. She knows I like to be inside her when I orgasm, she always slows her touches to allow me to last longer.

She rests her head against mine and looks deep into my eyes as she gently strokes me again. I bite my lip, having her touching me in this way feels wonderful. “Ellie,” I groan. “Please, I want to be inside you.” She nods her head and guides my erection inside her body. Ellie stays still as I sit up and wrap my arms around her. She pulls me closer as she starts to rock her hips and move herself up and down my length. I moan, I can't help myself, the warm heat of her core feels amazing. I kiss her on the head as we instinctively move together.

“Ellie, I am yours, always.” I whisper, repeating her words from earlier. I feel the intensity build as we make love to each other. Ellie's eyes have not left mine since we joined together. I hear her moans mingling with mine, it won't be long before she has another orgasm. “Ellie, my Ellie,” I moan. “I love you with everything that I am.”

“I love you too, Obi-Wan.” I stroke my fingers over her face and hair, she is my everything. We hold each other close and I kiss her forehead as the pressure of orgasm starts to build inside me. I moan louder as Ellie rocks her hips again, her moans signifying that she is close. She leans her head on my shoulder, her body trembling with the physical effort. I sense she is beginning to tire and gently roll her onto her back. I slip back inside her and wrap her legs around my waist. I thrust into her and she moans again. I bury my head in her shoulder as her inner muscles squeeze my length. I cry out as I orgasm, my pleasure mingling with Ellie's as she finishes mere seconds after I have. Her fingers slide into my hair and she trembles with the pleasure still running through her.

Ellie's arms move around my back and I cuddle into her, we're still joined together and I do not want to move just yet. I feel her lips brush against my forehead and her fingers stroke my back. I slide my head into the crook of her neck and kiss the skin I find there. My hand rests over her belly, I am content to be held by her. She is the most precious person in my life. I whisper how much I love her and tell her I will do for the rest of my life. It makes me smile when she says it back to me. I slowly move out of her body and curl up in her arms. It might not be manly, but sometimes I like to be held after we have made love.

Her fingers start to make looping patterns over the skin on my back, she only ever does this when she is thinking about something. I lift my head to look at her. “What are you thinking about?”

“Do you think our children will have ginger hair?”

“Would you mind if they did?”

“No, I would like them to have your hair.”

“I want them to have the eyes of their beautiful mother.” Ellie smiles at that and presses a kiss to my head. “I want them to have your kindness too, my beautiful princess.”

“I want them to have your loving nature, Obi-Wan.” She smiles and continues. “I can't think of a better man to spend the rest of my life with and be the father of our children.”

“We could always start practicing making them tonight,” I say with a smile. Ellie chuckled and she pulled me close to her for a kiss. Once we broke the kiss I cuddled back up to Ellie, there is nobody else I want to spend the rest of my life with.

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For poetry month I started looking for books to highlight. What I realized is that there haven’t been many young adult poetry books in my life lately. There have been a few books containing some poetry though. Here are some of my favorite novels with at least a little poetry woven into the story:

Gabi, a Girl in Pieces by Isabel Quintero [My Review]

Summary: Gabi Hernandez chronicles her last year in high school in her diary: college applications, Cindy’s pregnancy, Sebastian’s coming out, the cute boys, her father’s meth habit, and the food she craves. And best of all, the poetry that helps forge her identity.

July 24

My mother named me Gabriella, after my grandmother who, coincidentally, didn’t want to meet me when I was born because my mother was unmarried, and therefore living in sin. My mom has told me the story many, many, MANY, times of how, when she confessed to my grandmother that she was pregnant with me, her mother beat her. BEAT HER! She was twenty-five. That story is the basis of my sexual education and has reiterated why it’s important to wait until you’re married to give it up. So now, every time I go out with a guy, my mom says, “Ojos abiertos, piernas cerradas.” Eyes open, legs closed. That’s as far as the birds and the bees talk has gone. And I don’t mind it. I don’t necessarily agree with that whole wait until you’re married crap, though. I mean, this is America and the 21st century; not Mexico one hundred years ago. But, of course, I can’t tell my mom that because she will think I’m bad. Or worse: trying to be White.

Shame the Stars by Guadalupe García McCall [My Review] [Interview with Guadalupe García McCall]

Summary: Eighteen-year-old Joaquín del Toro’s future looks bright. With his older brother in the priesthood, he’s set to inherit his family’s Texas ranch. He’s in love with Dulceña—and she’s in love with him. But it’s 1915, and trouble has been brewing along the US-Mexico border. On one side, the Mexican Revolution is taking hold; on the other, Texas Rangers fight Tejano insurgents, and ordinary citizens are caught in the middle.

As tensions grow, Joaquín is torn away from Dulceña, whose father’s critical reporting on the Rangers in the local newspaper has driven a wedge between their families. Joaquín’s own father insists that the Rangers are their friends, and refuses to take sides in the conflict. But when their family ranch becomes a target, Joaquín must decide how he will stand up for what’s right.

Shame the Stars is a rich re-imagining of Romeo and Juliet set in Texas during the explosive years of Mexico’s revolution. Filled with period detail, captivating romance, and political intrigue, it brings Shakespeare’s classic to life in an entirely new way.

Piecing Me Together by Renée Watson [My Review]

Summary: Jade believes she must get out of her neighborhood if she’s ever going to succeed. Her mother says she has to take every opportunity. She has. She accepted a scholarship to a mostly-white private school and even Saturday morning test prep opportunities. But some opportunities feel more demeaning than helpful. Like an invitation to join Women to Women, a mentorship program for “at-risk” girls. Except really, it’s for black girls. From “bad” neighborhoods.But Jade doesn’t need support. And just because her mentor is black doesn’t mean she understands Jade. And maybe there are some things Jade could show these successful women about the real world and finding ways to make a real difference.Friendships, race, privilege, identity—this compelling and thoughtful story explores the issues young women face.Piecing Me Together by Renée Watson [My Review]Summary: Jade believes she must get out of her neighborhood if she’s ever going to succeed. Her mother says she has to take every opportunity. She has. She accepted a scholarship to a mostly-white private school and even Saturday morning test prep opportunities. But some opportunities feel more demeaning than helpful. Like an invitation to join Women to Women, a mentorship program for “at-risk” girls. Except really, it’s for black girls. From “bad” neighborhoods.But Jade doesn’t need support. And just because her mentor is black doesn’t mean she understands Jade. And maybe there are some things Jade could show these successful women about the real world and finding ways to make a real difference.Friendships, race, privilege, identity—this compelling and thoughtful story explores the issues young women face.

Some novels in verse are:

Cinnamon Girl by Juan Felipe Herrera

Summary: I want to see what is on the other side of the dust When the towers fall, New York City is blanketed by dust. On the Lower East Side, Yolanda, the Cinnamon Girl, makes her manda, her promise, to gather as much of it as she can. Maybe returning the dust to Ground Zero can comfort all the voices. Maybe it can help Uncle DJ open his eyes again. As tragedies from her past mix in the air of an unthinkable present, Yolanda searches for hope. Maybe it’s buried somewhere in the silvery dust of Alphabet City.

Booked by Kwame Alexander

Summary: Like lightning/you strike/fast and free/legs zoom/down field/eyes fixed/on the checkered ball/on the goal/ten yards to go/can’t nobody stop you/ can’t nobody cop you…

In this follow-up to the Newbery-winning novel The Crossover,  soccer, family, love, and friendship, take center stage as twelve-year-old Nick learns the power of words as he wrestles with problems at home, stands up to a bully, and tries to impress the girl of his dreams. Helping him along are his best friend and sometimes teammate Coby, and The Mac, a rapping librarian who gives Nick inspiring books to read. This electric and heartfelt novel-in-verse by poet Kwame Alexander bends and breaks as it captures all the thrills and setbacks, action and emotion of a World Cup match!

Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson [My Review]

Summary: Raised in South Carolina and New York, Woodson always felt halfway home in each place. In vivid poems, she shares what it was like to grow up as an African American in the 1960s and 1970s, living with the remnants of Jim Crow and her growing awareness of the Civil Rights movement. Touching and powerful, each poem is both accessible and emotionally charged, each line a glimpse into a child’s soul as she searches for her place in the world. Woodson’s eloquent poetry also reflects the joy of finding her voice through writing stories, despite the fact that she struggled with reading as a child. Her love of stories inspired her and stayed with her, creating the first sparks of the gifted writer she was to become.

A Time to Dance by Padma Venkatraman [My Review]

Summary: Padma Venkatraman’s inspiring story of a young girl’s struggle to regain her passion and find a new peace is told lyrically through verse that captures the beauty and mystery of India and the ancient Bharatanatyam dance form. This is a stunning novel about spiritual awakening, the power of art, and above all, the courage and resilience of the human spirit.

Veda, a classical dance prodigy in India, lives and breathes dance—so when an accident leaves her a below-knee amputee, her dreams are shattered. For a girl who’s grown used to receiving applause for her dance prowess and flexibility, adjusting to a prosthetic leg is painful and humbling. But Veda refuses to let her disability rob her of her dreams, and she starts all over again, taking beginner classes with the youngest dancers. Then Veda meets Govinda, a young man who approaches dance as a spiritual pursuit. As their relationship deepens, Veda reconnects with the world around her, and begins to discover who she is and what dance truly means to her.

Under the Mesquite by Guadalupe García McCall

Summary: Lupita, a budding actor and poet in a close-knit Mexican American immigrant family, comes of age as she struggles with adult responsibilities during her mother’s battle with cancer in this young adult novel in verse.

When Lupita learns Mami has cancer, she is terrified by the possibility of losing her mother, the anchor of her close-knit family. Suddenly, being a high school student, starring in a play, and dealing with friends who don’t always understand, become less important than doing whatever she can to save Mami’s life.

While her father cares for Mami at an out-of-town clinic, Lupita takes charge of her seven younger siblings. As Lupita struggles to keep the family afloat, she takes refuge in the shade of a mesquite tree, where she escapes the chaos at home to write. Forced to face her limitations in the midst of overwhelming changes and losses, Lupita rediscovers her voice and finds healing in the power of words.

Told with honest emotion in evocative free verse, Lupita’s journey toward hope is captured in moments that are alternately warm and poignant. Under the Mesquite is an empowering story about testing family bonds and the strength of a young woman navigating pain and hardship with surprising resilience.

Finally, here are two poetry related books I look forward to reading sometime this year:

The Playbook by Kwame Alexander

Summary: You gotta know the rules to play the game. Ball is life. Take it to the hoop. Soar. What can we imagine for our lives? What if we were the star players, moving and grooving through the game of life? What if we had our own rules of the game to help us get what we want, what we aspire to, what will enrich our lives?

Illustrated with photographs by Thai Neave, The Playbook is intended to provide inspiration on the court of life. Each rule contains wisdom from inspiring athletes and role models such as Nelson Mandela, Serena Williams, LeBron James, Carli Lloyd, Steph Curry and Michelle Obama. Kwame Alexander also provides his own poetic and uplifting words, as he shares stories of overcoming obstacles and winning games in this motivational and inspirational book just right for graduates of any age and anyone needing a little encouragement.

Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds

Summary: A cannon. A strap. A piece. A biscuit. A burner. A heater. A chopper. A gat. A hammer A tool for RULE

Or, you can call it a gun. That’s what fifteen-year-old Will has shoved in the back waistband of his jeans. See, his brother Shawn was just murdered. And Will knows the rules. No crying. No snitching. Revenge. That’s where Will’s now heading, with that gun shoved in the back waistband of his jeans, the gun that was his brother’s gun. He gets on the elevator, seventh floor, stoked. He knows who he’s after. Or does he? As the elevator stops on the sixth floor, on comes Buck. Buck, Will finds out, is who gave Shawn the gun before Will took the gun. Buck tells Will to check that the gun is even loaded. And that’s when Will sees that one bullet is missing. And the only one who could have fired Shawn’s gun was Shawn. Huh. Will didn’t know that Shawn had ever actually USED his gun. Bigger huh. BUCK IS DEAD. But Buck’s in the elevator? Just as Will’s trying to think this through, the door to the next floor opens. A teenage girl gets on, waves away the smoke from Dead Buck’s cigarette. Will doesn’t know her, but she knew him. Knew. When they were eight. And stray bullets had cut through the playground, and Will had tried to cover her, but she was hit anyway, and so what she wants to know, on that fifth floor elevator stop, is, what if Will, Will with the gun shoved in the back waistband of his jeans, MISSES.

And so it goes, the whole long way down, as the elevator stops on each floor, and at each stop someone connected to his brother gets on to give Will a piece to a bigger story than the one he thinks he knows. A story that might never know an END…if WILL gets off that elevator.