#wand of enemy detection

[cagemasterfantasy]

DND Magic Items: Wand of Enemy Detection

Type: Rare

Rarity: Rare

Type of Item: Arcana and Implments

Attunement: Yes

This wand has 7 charges. While holding it you can take a Magic action to expend 1 charge. For 1 minute you know the direction of the nearest creature Hostile to you within 60 feet but not its distance from you. The wand can sense the presence of Hostile creatures that are Invisible ethereal disguised or hidden as well as those in plain sight. Teh effect ends if you stop holding the wand.

Regaining Charges: The wand regains 1d6+1 expended charges daily at dawn. If you expend the wand's last charge roll a d20. On a 1 the wand crumbles into ashes and is destroyed.

[bahablastplz]

SKZ Recs (NSFW)

As a chronic fanfic reader, I have a lot of recommendations. So, these are the ones I think about the most. All of them include smut, so they're 18+. Red text indicates fics on AO3. Go support these amazing authors!! Enjoy!! <3

Bang Chan 

The SKZ house @writeonwhiskey (Chan x reader x Hyunjin…SKZ but make it a frat… and also sexy) 

Silent cry @j-0ne25 (Fake dating/friends to lovers, live laugh hurt comfort… emphasis on the hurt) 

Love is intuitive @skzonthebrain (forbidden love and angst… so emotional and loving <3) 

Kinktober Day 8 @dreaming-medium (breeding, best friend, fake dating, so sweet and spicy) 

Summer in Seoul @writeonwhiskey (strangers to lovers, summer love, spicy and romantic) 

Saturday mornings @skzdarlings (Chan/reader/Seungmin where Seungmin is an absolute menace that gets reader in trouble… dom Chan is so good in this one omg) 

It’s cold out @therhythmafterthesummer (roommate Chan is going through his rut… oops there’s more ABO on this list than I realized sorry not sorry) 

Bodyguard: The first guard @skzdarlings (A sequel to the bodyguard, an ongoing work that has elements of enemies to lovers and great, in-depth world building and character development)

However you want it, lover-lover @cbini (you ask your bf Chan to step on you after watching spicy edits of him on tiktok omg)

More than just friends @kwanisms (roommate Chan is entering his rut... he's usually able to control himself but this time you're ovulating. sprinkle some brat taming in here as well and it's so delicious)

Lee Know 

The Experience Project @leeknowsallyoursecrets (Enemies to lovers Lee Know, really good plot and relationship building!) 

Sanguis Limerence @jl-micasea-fics (Vampire OT8, Lee Know x Reader x Chan, SUPER good world building, especially in their sequel with the backstories… I was so invested. And it’s super hot)

Barb Wired Brat @roseykat (BDSM Lee Know with reader going into subspace… awakened things in me) 

Audience @gimmeurtmi (2 min, wet dreams, exhibitionism, degradation… yeah) 

Well Shit @2chopsticks2eyes (Brother’s best friend, inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers and fwb… literally so good) 

Sea May Rise, Sky May Fall @skzms (Lee Know x Reader x Han, complete series, Pirate AU with beautiful world building, in-depth characters and GREAT smut. One of my all time favs)

rsvp @cbini (teasing dom vampire boyfriend Minho and you get the punishment you deserve... brat taming and so so so sexy like it's insane)

Changbin 

 The accidental acquisition of sugar @skzdarlings (accidental sugar daddy Changbin x reader that’s absolutely hilarious with great smut) 

Valentine’s series ‘do you really think you’re in a position to give orders’) @skzdarlings (forbidden love/romeo & juliet style but with gun play… um this was so hot tho) 

Close your eyes (...And count to seven) @MysteryBird (Possessive gang leader bf! Changbin that you’re trying to piss off by sleeping with the other members… 100k+ words and so delicious) 

Hyunjin 

Praise kink Hyunjin @dreaming-medium (A kinktober fic, enemies to lovers detective Hyunjin… absolutely delicious) 

Snowed In @moonjxsung (really artistic, heartfelt, and beautifully written)  

Jury’s still out @straywrds (rivals to hooking up/hate sex… super spicy and hot) 

Dressing down @jl-micasea-fics (shopping trip with best friend Hyunjin turns out spicy ahh the chemistry) 

Four of wands @straywrds (beautifully crafted story I was so immersed in!! witch Hyunjin and sex magick, the characters have so much depth! crazy tension)

Han 

Watch your six  @dreaming-medium (sensory deprivation kinktober ah this is engraved in my brain) 

The same but different @skzdarlings (ahh hanlix fairy au where they’re linked with great world building and is so funny… I maybeee think about this every day) 

Sea May Rise, Sky May Fall @skzms (Lee Know x Reader x Han, complete series, Pirate AU with beautiful world building, in-depth characters and GREAT smut. One of my all time favs)

Screen Identity: Mismatched Passion (SIMP) @leeknowsallyoursecrets (Spin-off series to the experience project! Jisung x reader enemies/academic rivals to lovers in which they’re both anonomously sexting each other on discord without knowing who’s on the other end of the screen!!! top tier level tension)

Felix 

The bodyguard @skzdarlings (Forced proximity, enemies to lovers, had me SUPER invested and made me cry) 

The same but different @skzdarlings (ahh hanlix fairy au where they’re linked with great world building and is so funny… I maybee think about this every day) 

Snap out of it @2baabbies (Felix gives you the option to either go home with your shitty boyfriend or go home with him at the end of the night ahhh!!) 

Seungmin 

Bet on it @skzonthebrain (Academic rivals, enemies to lovers and such good tension/chemistry) 

Audience @gimmeurtmi (2 min, wet dreams, exhibitionism, degradation… yeah) 

Saturday mornings @skzdarlings (Chan/reader/Seungmin where Seungmin is an absolute menace that gets reader in trouble… dom Chan is so good in this one omg) 

Seungmin + hairpulling @straykeedz (kinktober fic, best friend Seungmin finds out you have a thing for hairpulling and can't get you out of his head... this is taken straight from the deepest depths of my fantasies i s2g)

no nut november @gimmeurtmi (this whole nnn series is fantastic but seeing Seungmin lose his composure because of his breeding kink does something for me)

august is a fever @seungminheart (mean dom Seungmin... you don't think he is really into you so you see how far you can push him/I love mean dom Seungmin and I think this fic does it just right)

I.N. 

Lavender boy @hyunsvngs (A/B/O Alpha jeongin… super sexy and great dynamics) 

Clueless @jeongin-lvr (inexperienced big dick I.N. that just wants to make reader feel good… also omg he’s so hot in this pls) 

Better and better @seungminheart (sharing a bed, best friend Jeongin, amazing banter, soft dom Jeongin, brat taming, every trope from my hopes and dreams)

Third leg? @beesspacedotorg (huge dick alpha Innie... some brat taming, great banter and dynamics and sexy)

OT8 

Sharing a bed series @skzdarlings (Best trope ever and they really do it justice) (Chan's is linked but you should read all 8)

Sharing is caring @skzms (Minsung x reader x OT8… really well written spice) 

Fake texts @thefantasyden (I swear these are like crack I read them every single time) 

Kinktober23 @roseykat (one of the first SKZ blogs that I started reading that really brought me deep into the fandom… My fav from this is Table Manners and Bible Studies, and it has a part 2)

All Bark no Bite @doitforbangchan (Main pairing is Chan x Reader with some OT8, it's an ABO au with some really good spice)

Masterlist mxm recs

[cherrixpie]

NEMESIS

part four of five

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. Shame that he was just so irrestible.

↬ sfw; wc: 9.1k (good lord these keep getting longer); cw: violence, blood, broken bones, suggestiveness, swear words; tags: gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader, enemies to lovers

( masterlist )

The wind howled through the stands, tearing at banners of both red and green, as sheets of icy rain slashed down in relentless torrents. Over night, the weather had taken a dramatic shift, to the disfortune of any poor bloke who was on the pitch today. The pitch had turned into a mire of mud and puddles and looked more like a battlefield than the site of one of the most anticipated Quidditch matches of the season: Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Above, the players on their broomsticks were little more than blurred streaks of color, their shouts swallowed by the roaring of the storm. The sharp crack of a Bludger smashing into a broomstick echoed through the chaos, drawing gasps and cries from the diehard fans who clung stubbornly to the stands despite the weather.

Near the base of the stands, Madam Pomphrey hovered over you like an agitated owl as you sorted through the bandages and potions at hand. Ever since you'd started practical training in the Hospital wing to improve your chances to become a healer at the prestigious St. Mungos Hospital, you'd been assailing her at quidditch games. But you'd only ever had Gryffindors to look out for before.

“Playing in this weather is nothing short of lunacy,” Madam Pomphrey muttered, her words only heard over the howling wind because she stood so close to you. “The last thing I need is another student catching their death out here- or worse, ending up on one of my stretchers.”

Though you didn't say it out loud, you estimated the chances of that being close to zero. Not only the weather made this an exceptionally brutal game. It seemed as if the players translated the stress of playing in such conditions into pure violence, and the thick mist of rain only made the many fouls harder to detect. The game was turning more brutal by the minute. You did your very best to identify your friends, but only caught a glance of Harry hovering over the game, looking for the faint glint of the snitch through the fog and dodging the occasional bludger. And, of course, Ron, guarding the rings.

But your restless eyes didn't only scan the skies in search of your friends. Any time a Slytherin player passed the stands, you'd anxiously try to make out whether they were a beater, whether they were Mattheo. But he seemed to be amidst the center of the game. Sometimes you thought you spotted him when you recognized a figure with club that vaguely resembled him. Sometimes, you thought the figure looked back at you, but you couldn't be sure of anything when rain and fog clouded your vision and made it impossible to pin point anything.

Suddenly, another violent crack echoed through the stadium and the fans let out a collective gasp when the small, blurred figure of Gryffindor’s seeker slipped from his broom, having been violently hit with a bludger. Before even Madam Pomphrey could react, you, who'd been on your toes all game, cast a spell to slow his fall and took off over the field to meet him when he met the ground in a rather soft thud thanks to your spell. The nurse followed hot on your heels and together, you hoisted Harry up on your shoulders and helped him towards the sidelines as Madame Hooch signaled time-out.

The bludger must've hit Harry in the face at short distance, because it only took one look at his blood-smeared face and crooked nose to know the latter was broken. You had the vague idea it wouldn't be the last one toady. As Madam Pomphrey healed it with a flick of her wand, eliciting a crack from the nose as it sprung back in place and a pained groan from Harry, you recovered a diptam from your belt and leaned down in front of him to apply it to his face.

“That was Riddle,” said Harry bitterly as you healed the cuts and bruises to the best of your abilities. The murtlap essence did wonders on his injuries, but still, your worried eyes scanned his face restlessly as Harry kept raging. “He's had his sights on me ever since we lifted off the damn ground! Dunno what's up with him, it's like he doesn't even care about the game anymore. He's a damn psychopath, he is.”

Before you had the chance to respond, three thuds announced the arrival of three other players and you turned to them as they approached. Madam Hooch lead them, she walked on large strides over to Harry to inspect the graveness of his injury. Behind her followed a highly enraged looking Malfoy, platinum hair clinging to his forehead, and Mattheo, seemingly relaxed though there was a storm brewing in his eyes that rivaled the one he and the others were facing above ground. Your eyes met and you froze mid movement when he, despite the situation, gave you a quick grin. Just like Harry and Malfoy, he was covered head to toe in mud and his hair was even more of a mess than usual, but you had to admit it suited him better than the other two.

“From such a short distance, my my,” raged Madam Hooch who was quite red in the face. As most teachers did, she directed her anger at some point over Mattheo's shoulder instead of looking him into the face. “That's a foul if I ever saw one. Gryffindor gets a penalty.”

“But Madam Hooch!” called Malfoy indignantly. “He only did his job, isn't it allowed for the beaters to use their clubs anymore?”

“On the bludgers, not on fellow players!” hissed Madam Hooch angrily. Malfoy stroke up another argument, beginning with the words "my father...", but Mattheo couldn't have cared less. So what if Gryffindor got a damn penalty, there was much more important things to be enraged about. Like the way you fussed over Potter, how worried you looked, how pretty you looked in your nurse uniform, a white dress that fell down to your knees paired with the most adorable nurse cap. Mattheo realized he liked white on you. In his world that was drowned in such darkness, you stood out amongst crowds like a glowing ember. As much as he hesitated to admit it, he felt lighter anytime he laid eyes on you.

“Mate, help me out here!” Malfoy pushed him, but he fell on deaf ears, because you had just glanced back at him. Your reproachful look almost made him smile. A few loose strands of hair fell from your nurse cap into your face and clung to your skin. Even if you were to glare at him, he'd much rather have you do that than go back to giving your attention to Potter, of all people. But alas, you turned back to him and wiped the paste off of his face, giving him a light slap on the back to get back on his broom.

If possible, the wind cut even sharper as the game went on. Even under the cover of the stands, theoretically providing protection from the rain, you were soon drenched to the bone. You'd even had to borrow a Gryffindor sweater from Dean because your uniform had started to become see-through, and the material wasn't thin. By now, everyone was just praying for one of the seekers to catch the snitch and win the game. Though Slytherin was in the lead, partially due to a newfound brutality from their beaters, if Harry caught the snitch soon, Gryffindor would still win.

Just when you dragged the box with the medical supplies further under the cover of the stands to prevent the bandages from soaking up- by the looks of the game you would need them plenty- it happened. You hadn't looked, preoccupied with your task, so the only indication that something was wrong was the shocked screams of the crowd. As you looked up to see what was going on, for the smallest split of a second, you could make out a seemingly rogue bludger rushing towards the stands, specifically, towards you. You didn't even have time to close your eyes or shield yourself from the impact when a flash of green shot through your field of vision and the crowd breathed a sigh of belief.

Rushing forwards, you gripped onto the barrier and looked up at the sky only to catch a glimpse of Mattheo's jersey until he disappeared into the mist once more. Gryffindor scored. As the red and golden covered stands to your left erupted in hollers and cheers, you were hit with the sudden realization that Mattheo had not only saved you from being hit by a bludger, but had also diverted from the Gryffindor chasers, allowing them to score. It didn't fit. He'd been playing with undeveloped ferocity the whole match and now passed up the chance to intercept Gryffindor scoring? But, you thought to yourself, heart still hammering in your chest from the shock, maybe you should just give up trying to make sense of Mattheo Riddle, when he'd so far proved to be everything you thought he wasn't.

Due to the doubled efforts of Nott’s solo runs and Mattheo's bludgers being a major hindrance to the Gryffindor chasers and messing up their formations, forcing them to scatter, Slytherin took the lead by a long shot. But still, if Harry caught the snitch now, they could still win.

You were focused on him that you didn't even catch the maneuver of the Gryffindor beaters. There was a resounding crack heard throughout the stadium, even through the splatter of rain, and one of the Slytherin beaters was slammed into one of the stand walls with such force he bounced off of it before hurling towards the ground. Seconds before the player could hit the ground, they managed to pull their broom up and towards the sky, but their face was full of blood.

Your brain needed a moment to comprehend the situation, but then you read the name on the back of the player’s jersey and the blood seemed to freeze in your veins. Oh God. It was Mattheo. Panic-stricken, you turned to Madam Hooch. Not only had this clearly been a foul, but Mattheo needed time out to get patched up. But Madam Hooch was preoccupied with overlooking the Slytherin chasers ramming through a Gryffindor formation and the endless sheets of rain seemed to obstruct her vision. The Slytherin stands roared in indignation, but Mattheo steadied his broom mid-air, wiped his sleeve over his face, which only seemed to make it worse, and got back into formation.

Even Madam Pomphrey, who had expressed her dislike of Mattheo several times, gasped worriedly. “The game needs time out! He can't play in this condition!”

Your insides felt like claws, reeling against your ribcage as a sudden assault of worry hit you. The impossible frustration of not being able to help, to have to watch Mattheo get back into the game with gritted teeth was suffocating. Past you would have been indifferent, maybe. Past you was an idiot. Your hands gripped the barrier so tightly your knuckles turned white, and you couldn't take your eyes off of Mattheo’s figure. The blood seemed to be obstructing his vision even more than the walk of downpour already did,

Why did you care so much? Why did worry over a boy like Mattheo Riddle eat you up from the inside? Though it was quite untrue, you doubted there was anyone like Mattheo Riddle. Maybe it was just easier to pretend that your concern, the fact that you cared so much, was illogical, than to admit to yourself that he wasn't just you-know-who’s son anymore. That your fear of him had subsided and given way to not only interest, but affection.

The thought scared you. You knew exactly what your friends would say if they knew that you cared for their mortal enemy. Hermoine would look at you with a mixture of disgust and worry, maybe she'd even feel betrayed. And Ron? He'd feel like you'd fratanized with the enemy, you knew he would be angry. What about Harry? He'd been so understanding yesterday, but only after you reassured him that you detested Mattheo. A lie. Mattheo was supposed to be your nemesis, too. But he wasn't anymore.

What was he to you? The question rummaged in your brain as you watched his figure anxiously, wincing any time he got too close to a bludger. In the forest, he'd been intriguing. In the kitchens, exciting. Then, in the library, and you felt almost ashamed to admit it, attractive. But that wasn't all. What you felt for Mattheo couldn't be summed up in mere interest or attraction. It was a coiled up snake in the deepest pits of your self that had raised his head slowly, before you'd even realized it. You couldn't pin-point it, you just knew you wanted to know everything about Mattheo there was to know, and, that you hated to see him hurt.

The Slytherins were now in the lead by one-hundred-and-sixty points, but you couldn't have cared less about the score. More than ever now, you hoped for the game to end so you could have a look at Mattheo. But when the whistle sounded shrilly through the stadium, it was only to announce another two penalties for Gryffindor after Malfoy had fouled Harry mid-dive, both of whom Ginny dunked.

And then, finally, Harry and Malfoy went into a dive and, under the victorious roars of the Gryffindors, Harry emerged holding the snitch over his head. The score board showed Gryffindor: 260 points - Slytherin: 250 points.

Mustering up little more than a sigh of relief, you hurried over to the cart with the bandages and healing potions, arming yourself with supplies as the players landed one after the other. More than half of them immediately made a beeline for the medical tent, to you and a very ill-tempered Madam Pomphrey who muttered something about high risk sports and student safety. It had been an exceptionally rough game, and most players were at least bruised up, at worst limping heavily and clutching their ribs. As they trailed in, your eyes frantically darted around in search of Mattheo, but you couldn't find him.

Soon, you were preoccupied with fixing up the Gryffindor chasers, but your quick, distracted glances around the tent told you that he wasn't here. But where could he be? Dread pooled in your stomach as you bandaged up Ginny’s left hand and applied murtlap essence to her fellow chaser’s cuts and bruises. Only more people seemed to trail in, but, bit by bit, you managed to send them all off again. Still, Mattheo hadn't showed. As you were just contemplating whether you could just walk into the snake’s den, aka the Slytherin changing rooms, and offer treatment, you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder.

You spun around and were faced with Theodore Nott, looking very wet and very moody. The sight of him calmed you somewhat, you knew he and Mattheo were close. Nott looked as grumpy and sinister as ever, but he didn't sound aggressive. “Are you free here?” he asked in his Italian accent and you nodded silently. His frown subsided somewhat. “Can you come with me? Mattheo’s refusing treatment.”

For a split second, you wondered whether Nott knew about Mattheo and you. Then, you mentally slapped yourself back into reality. There was nothing between Mattheo and you, other than a few late night encounters. He'd only asked for you because he didn't want to ask Madam Pomphrey, you supposed.

“Of course,” you said, a little more enthusiastically than would have been necessary, and quickly rounded up some medical supplies to stuff them into your bag. Then, you followed Nott out of the tent, through the downpour of rain and down the steps that led into the Slytherin’s changing rooms.

As you walked down the stairs, you passed a group of Slytherin players who shot you nasty, albeit unsurprised looks. Struggling to keep up with Nott’s long strides, you hurried after him and averted your eyes from the passing Slytherin's. In front of a door with the engraved words ‘changing rooms’, Nott halted his step and nodded towards it. “He's in there, make it quick.”

Nott took off after his friends and you were left standing before the door. For a few hesitant seconds, your fist hovered in the air in front of the wood, and for some silly reason, your heart was thumping like mad. Finally, you knocked. Due to your sudden surge of timidity, it was a soft, quiet sound, barely heard over the splatter on the roof. Still, a voice you recognized as Mattheo's called from inside, clearly audible. “Come in, princess.” As if it had been a command, your hand fell down to the handle, you pressed it down and the door swung open.

The first thing you noticed about the Slytherin changing rooms was that they were way tidier than the Gryffindor ones that you'd often visited after a game to fetch Harry and Ron. No empty bottles, no forgotten jerseys on the ground and it smelled surprisingly good for a sports changing room, though the distinct smell of smoke clung to the air. All seemed perfect in place- except for the a smashed-in locker on the left side and the boy that sat, smoking, on one of the benches.

Mattheo hadn't even made an effort to change yet, both his jersey and his face were seeping with blood. His nose looked broken and his lip was busted up, which didn't stop him from taking continuous drags out of his cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. Wisps of smoke curled around him like ghostly shroud. His dark curls hung heavy and damp over his sharp features, framing the defiant smirk that tugged at his lips despite the pain evident in his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. His eyes, dark and unfazed, met yours with a flicker of something unreadable- half daring, half relief- as if, even now, bloodied and battered, he was too proud to let the hurt take hold. Or too used to it.

His heavy gaze felt disarming as you stood aimlessly in the doorway, faintly dripping with water falling from loose strands of your hair. Mustering up a small smile, you closed the door behind you and attempted to ignore the way his gaze burned into your back as you turned to the door. “What if I hadn't been me?” you asked in an effort to diffuse the situation of the weird tension in the air. “What if I'd been one of your friends? That would've been awkward.”

When you turned back to him, his gaze had softened almost indiscernibly. His cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, his eyes raked over your drenched and drippy figure before snapping back to your eyes with the self-assurance of a skilled predator cornering its prey. You met his eyes without blinking and the corner of his lips twitched slightly. “None of my friends knock as if they're scared somebody will hear it.”

Your lips curled. “Touché.” With slow, deliberate steps, you walked over to him and came to a halt before him, fingers closing tensely around the handle of your medical bag. Even just the parts of him you could see looked badly hurt, though he didn't show any signs of pain. Maybe he had CIPA syndrome. Or maybe he was just a masochist.

Mattheo caught your wandering gaze, blew a cloud of smoke your way and leaned back against the back of the bench expectantly, cigarette between his bloody fingers. “Well, then, I'm all yours.” A lazy grin played around his lips, in spite of the situation, and it was as attractive as it was infuriating.

Before he could react, you snatched the cigarette out of his fingers and discarded it into an ashtray near you before turning back to him. “It smells disgusting,” you let him know and he chuckled, raising his hands in faux surrender.

You felt hesitant to approach him, touch him, even though you had his consent. His dark eyes rooted you to your spot, made you unable to move. You wondered whether it was some sort of spell until he raised his brows. “Any day now, princess.”

“Don't rush me,” you whispered, averting your eyes and scrambling around in your medical kit for the right supplies. You layed out bandages and healing potions out on the bench opposite him and turned to him once more to tap your wand against his nose, murmuring “episkey” under your breath. With a disgusting cracking sound, it snapped back in place, but Mattheo didn't flinch, only continuing to stare up at you. With the same feeling of sticking your head into a snake den, you leaned down nervously to examine the wounds on his face, whether they needed stitching. The deep cut near his jaw did.

“Careful there, princess,” Mattheo murmured and your eyes snapped from the wound to his eyes, only inches away. “Someone might think you have un-pure intentions.”

You couldn't help the blush that painted your cheeks pink, more so due to his proximity than his words. Still, you brought some distance between you and searched in your bag for needle and thread. “My intentions couldn't be more pure,” you huffed and he laughed lightly from behind your back about a joke you couldn't understand. Or maybe, you did.

“That is true,” he lamented and you heard ruffling. You turned around quickly and snatched the pack of cigarettes out of his hands. He looked mildly surprised at the frown on your face.

“Come on,” you said, voice somewhere between annoyance and pleading. “are you really going to poison yourself while I try to patch you up?” Fitting the threat through the needle, you ignored his raised brows and concentrated your attention on the deep cut in his cheek. A damp towel in the other hand, you ran it over the wound to clean it and then leaned in closer. “This might hurt.”

He completely ignored the last part, but you could feel his eyes on you. Damn him, he was just so distracting. “Hm,” he hummed, as if in thought, and ignored your hiss to keep still. “One might almost think you care about me.”

“I do.”

Both you and him looked up in surprise, and you quickly looked away as his eyes stayed on you, almost hungrily. “Hold still,” you murmured, and finally, he complied, allowing you to insert the needle as gently as possible and start to surture the wound. It was almost scary how still he kept now. You desperately wished to break the silence that spread, that followed your words like a blanket of led pressing down upon the both of you. It was only the truth, you cared about him. You cared for him. You cared for Mattheo Riddle. In order to concentrate, you attempted to shut all that out, but the confession hung in the air between you, as impossible to ignore as he himself was.

Finally, you finished the last stitch and tied the suture with a surgeon’s knot off the side so it didn't touch the wound. A small part of you hoped desperately that Mattheo would overlook your slip up, maybe even forget it, but that, of course, was naive. When you put away thread and needle, grabbed the murtlap essence and walked back over to him, he looked up at you without the trace of a smile on his lips. “You care about me,” he repeated, not a question but a statement. His eyes fixed yours as he got a hold of your wrists. “More than you care about him?”

“Who?” you asked, perplexed by the severity in his tone. A hint of displeasure washed over his face, but it gave way to indifference after just a second. “Potter.”

“W- what?” you spluttered out, laughing nervously. How on earth were you supposed to answer that question? “He's my friend,” you said hesitantly and freed your wrists to dab some of the potion onto the tips of your fingers. As you leaned down, you froze mid motion when you felt hands on your waist. His hands on your waist. Large and warm and rough even through the fabric of your nurse uniform. His touch seemed to send sparks of electricity through your body that balled in your stomach and made your breath hitch.

“Go on,” he commanded quietly, and though they were trembling, you brushed your cream-smeared fingers over one of the bruises on his jaw. They travelled up over his cheek, tending to the scratches there, but you could hardly keep your attention on them when his eyes seemed to bore through your skull.

With a low voice, he muttered your name, your first name, and you were so shocked to hear him call you anything but ‘princess’ you did the smallest of double takes. “Is there anything more than that?” he asked, and he seemed more tense than before as his fingers curled into the flesh of your belly lightly. “Between you and him?”

Both the idea and the fact that you'd just been asked it by Mattheo Riddle of all people elicited a shocked little laugh from you. But he didn't laugh, only watched you with an expression that you might have mistaken for indifference if it hadn't been for the clenching of his jaw. “He's just a friend,” you clarified, your cheeks growing warm. “We're not- we've never- It's not like that,” you closed abashedly and put a bit of distance between you under the excuse of getting more murtlap. His hands fell from your waist as you walked over to the opposite bench, heat boiling in your face.

You tried to keep your expression composed as you got back to him to tend to the other side of his face, putting some murtlap over the stitches as well for good measure. This time, he didn't hold your waist, but when you were finished and brushed off the remaining essence on your skirt, he caught the hem between his fingers and his light tug caused you to stumble forwards in between his parted legs. His hand travelled upwards, tracing the curve of your hip without ever touching them and locked around the hem of your Gryffindor hoodie. There was a magnetic sort of darkness in his eyes when he looked up at you, two black holes that threatened to swallow you whole. “Take that off.”

In hindsight, you probably shouldn't ever have complied with his request. But his voice was so soft, his eyes so alluring, his whole being like a siren’s call. So you curled your fingers under your hoodie and, heart beating hard against your ribs, pulled it slowly over your head.

Mattheo's breath hitched as his gaze locked on you. The dim light of the changing room caught the soft outline of your figure beneath the thin, damp fabric, your nurse’s uniform clinging to you like a second skin, innocent in intention, but anything but now. The delicate outline of your bra was visible through the slightly see-through fabric. His throat tightened, a mix of a pang of guilt and a despicable surge of fire curling in his chest like smoke.

You looked so pure, so untouched by the edges of the world that had long since roughened him up. The contrast hit him like a bludger- your soft, careful hands that had just cleaned his wounds now pulling your hoodie over your head, oblivious to the firestorm you'd lit inside him. The urge to discard that Gryffindor hoodie and dress you in one of his jerseys, hiding the sacred sight beneath with a claim of his possession, was so overwhelming he clenched his fists, desperately trying to remind himself that you were not his, you were too good, too-

His train of thought was interrupted when you shifted slightly and folded your arms over your chest, only pressing your boobs together. He dragged his gaze away, but the weight of your unreachable warmth, your white-clad purity, lingered, carving through his battered core and leaving him feeling utterly undeserving.

When he looked away, you recoiled slightly and scolded yourself for thinking, hoping, he might react. But before you could put some distance between you, he looked up at you and his gaze locked you in place, making you freeze just as effectively as a pointed wand might have. Mattheo leaned forward and for a confused moment, you almost thought he was going to kiss you, but he only rose from his seat and walked past you.

Only when you heard shuffling behind you, you realized he was rummaging around your medical supplies. No, not rummaging, you realized when you looked over in alarm. He was cleaning up, packing all bandages and potions back into your bag.

“You don't have to do that!” you called and hastily approached to take the murtlap essence out of his hands. But he kept a firm grip on it and raised his brows at you with a mocking little smile. It seemed so out of place after the heavy tension between you in the room. “Hey, ‘m trying to do something nice here, princess!” With one glance, you assessed that Mattheo wasn't one for neatness, as he didn't assort the items in any order or symmetry whatsoever but merely threw them all into a heap and closed the lid. But still, the gesture was weirdly considerate and you couldn't help the little smile that crept onto your face.

“Thank you,” you smiled and he only nodded, averting his eyes. Right now, with your moist strands of hair sticking out of your nurse cap, your pretty little smile, the way the nurse uniform clung to your body, it was hard to withstand the urge to kiss you. Then again, what if he did? It'd all be over. It was etched into Mattheo by habit that if he got close enough to a girl to get intimate on any physical level, it was time for any strings to be cut loose as to not endanger the fragile balance that was what was left of his heart.

But it had never mattered to him, he'd kissed and fucked them anyway because he could, and it felt good, and then he was relieved when it was over. He’d never before held back. And in favor of what? Spending time in your presence? Pathetic, was what his father would call it. Mattheo couldn't explain it either, he just knew that, in this moment, his desire to be near you, to keep you, was stronger than the desire to rip your damn uniform off of you, explore the soft flesh beneath and give you the time of your fucking life right here on this bench.

You seemed hesitant as you grabbed the handle of your bag, your eyes raking over his torso. Of course, you were too good of a nurse and too smart of a woman to not guess what wounds he had to hide beneath. But for now, you couldn't see them.

“Thank you,” he said honestly, and the unfamiliar sound felt so natural when he said it to you. “For patching me up. Fine nurse you are.” He made no attempts to hide the flirty undertone and the lightest of blushes spread across your cheeks. He breathed it in like a drowning man.

With a barely concealed smirk and a “you're welcome,” you approached the door of the changing rooms.

Something like an iron fist closed around his insides as you opened the door and he couldn't hold back the words that stumbled from his lips. “Wait!” You froze and turned to him once more with an expectant look, and, as if he'd always known it, a stroke of genius found his way out of his mouth. “You know shit about muggles, right?”

A genuine grin formed on your lips. “I should hope so.”

“How ‘bout you tutor me in muggle studies then?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. With a light frown, you crossed your arms over your chest and he gave you a pleading look. “I'm gonna fail the class if I don't get my grades up asap.” Satisfied by the way he could practically see your resolve melt at the look he was giving you, his lips almost twitched but he bit down on it to hide any trace of his true intentions. In truth, he couldn't have cared less about muggle studies, but it was the perfect excuse.

“Fine,” you said, albeit begrudgingly, but you also gave him a little smile as you slipped out of the door, leaving only the vague smell of your perfume and a shaken up Mattheo behind.

Even though you had been apprehensive to the idea at first, tutoring Mattheo turned out to be something you started to look forward to every week. With every tutoring lesson, he seemed to be warming up to you more and more- and you did, too.

A few weeks into december, you found yourself laughing at his jokes and getting caught up in his brown eyes, that seemed softer than you'd ever perceived them. And you discovered that Mattheo was funny. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that never failed to make you chuckle, even when you probably shouldn't have. Not only that, but he was also smarter than you'd ever given him credit for.

Previously, you'd thought of him as a mix of brute force and cunning, not unintelligent but thinking more so with his fists. But he was incredibly smart, and you felt not only a growing bond but also fondness in a not-so-platonic way. It also helped that confusion looked simply adorable on him, which was not a word you thought you'd ever apply to Mattheo Riddle.

“So,” he asked in one breath as he plopped down on the seat opposite you in your secluded corner in the library one snowy tuesday evening, “what the fuck is a movie?” Taken aback by his sudden arrival, you did a double take and quickly cleared the desk of your schoolwork to make space for his books and parchment as well. As he spread them out, your eyes got stuck on a few splatters of blood on his white shirt and you frowned. He, of course, didn't miss it, you saw it in the way he shifted his jacket to cover the stains, but didn't mention it further.

“Harry or Ron?” you asked, as you knew him well enough by now to know that the only instance in which he wouldn't brag about his brawls to you was when your friends were involved. He looked almost guilty when he glanced up at you. Almost.

“Both”

Rolling your eyes, you put your books aside and crossed your arms over the table. “So, movies, huh? Where might that word come from, ‘movies’?”

“Come on, princess, you know I hate word definitions,” he whined, resting his head on the propped up palm of his hand and making his best puppy eyes at you.

You chuckled about his behavior and gave a light slap to his forehead that made the curls fall into his eyes in the most irresistible fashion. “It's supposed to come from 'moving pictures’”

“But muggle pictures don't move,” Mattheo frowned, seemingly recalling what you'd taught him just last week.

You nodded. “No, they don't. You see, when muggle pictures move, they don't call them pictures, they call them videos. And they don't move in their own, but because muggles line up an unbelievably high number of pictures and then play them in order, so they look like they're moving. Of course, today, the technology is a little more advanced. But movies often span one if not several hours and they tell stories, like books. It's kind of… as if books came to life. They have a whole range of other means to archived their ends though, like camera perspective, many also have music that can emphasize moments and influence how you see them, actor's performances, lighting-”

You fell silent suddenly and cleared your throat. As so often when you explained muggle concepts to him, you had started to ramble on with increasing passion. Now, you looked back at Mattheo to apologize, but his gaze was locked on you and a light smile graced his lips. Your heart seemed to skip a beat and you quickly averted your eyes down to your book. “Sorry, that was- I'm rambling again.”

“Do you see me complaining?” Mattheo asked with raised brows and kicked your shin lightly under the table to make you look up at him. “So, what's your favorite of these things? These movies?”

“Impossible to answer,” you laughed outright and ran a hand through your hair. “There's so many that are just so good, I could never pick one.” The smile remained in your lips as you contemplated the movies you'd maybe have chosen, but none of them were better or worse than the next.

“So, you like them? Movies?” he asked, watching your features closely. These last weeks, you'd started exposing more of your emotions to him through free expression more than words, had taken down some of the walls you still had left around him. Though he didn't say it out loud, you could tell he appreciated it, because his eyes studied every change of expression rigorously, as though he'd receive everything you gave to him of yourself with insatiable hunger, though he didn't reciprocate them in the same way.

“Yes,” you replied, fiddling with your quill.

There was a slight furrow of his brows when he locked eyes with you. “But they don't exist in our world. So, you'd give them up?”

“Why would I have to give them up?” you countered and leaned back in your seat. “I think the way we talk about the muggle world and the wizarding world is completely wrong. We talk about them as if they are different universes entirely and not part of the same word, the same country. Look at me!” You performed an awkward motion indicating yourself. “I'm part of both, and I don't feel torn, I feel more complete.”

His eyes flickered between yours as he contemplated your words. In the short silence that followed, you glanced around to make sure no one had taken notice of your little outburst. You hadn't told anyone you were tutoring Mattheo, that you were meeting you-know-who’s son two times a week in one of the more secluded corners of the library. Your friends would freak out if they knew, you could picture their aghast expressions, they wouldn't understand that an irresistible force pulled you towards the boy sitting in front of you. How the tutoring lessons had turned into a game of pretend for you, as you tried to hide your growing fondness for him while opening up parts of yourself for him to see. A fragile balance. And whether intentional or not, you'd seen parts of him you'd never known, or maybe you'd heard them through the tone of his voice or the tapping of his hands.

“There are worlds within worlds,” Mattheo broke the silence, and you frowned. His serious look indicated that he wasn't merely talking about the muggle and the wizarding world. You caught his hands tightening ever so slightly around his book and bit down on your lower lip.

“I’d have to disagree. There are just collectives within collectives. If the limits of different worlds are separating us, we can just make it simple and give each other up.”

You'd made it personal, and you scolded yourself silently, glancing up at the clock despite not really seeing the time. Both you and him knew you had slipped up. When talking about issues slightly more serious than movies or superhero comics, which had amused Mattheo greatly, it was a fine line drawn in the sand neither of you could cross, a silent agreement.

The air felt weirdly tense whenever one of you- more often you than him- threatened to bring up the fact that the unmistakable divide between the two of you went far beyond little house quarrels and teasing. That there was a world behind those protective castle walls both of you drowned out whenever you were in each others presence. The clock showed ten past nine.

“Worried that you're going to break curfew again, princess?” God, how you hated yourself for loving the way he said it, that little nickname that you used to despise, and now it was all his.

“No,” you said, tearing your eyes away from the clock and back to him. Nothing in his sharp features indicated that he recognized the tension that had lingered in the air just moments before, but he was too perceptive of a person to have been unaware. It dawned on you that he was probably trying to make you less uncomfortable and nervously tapped your quill against your lips. Mattheo Riddle being considerate was dangerous, because every time he showed his gentle side, it evoked a hunger in you to see more of it.

“You sure?” he asked, a sly, teasing smile resting comfortably on his soft lips. Only now that you found yourself looking at them closer, you realized there was a cut on them, continuously seeping small drops of blood into the corner of his mouth. You suppressed the sudden and utterly mental urge to lean over and wipe it off with your sleeve. It was not the blood that you minded, though. Maybe his craziness was rubbing off on you, because you abruptly thought that you wouldn't mind having his blood on you. Yep, he was definitely rubbing off.

Then, you realized what you were doing, staring at his lips, and fumbled to answer his question. “We still have enough time until curfew, if we leave in half an hour, we'll still have more than enough time to get back to our dorms.” You realized you were babbling on to avoid his heated stare and looked back at him almost defiantly, daring him to tease you for it.

Mattheo didn't take his eyes off you as the corner of his lips quirked upwards lightly. “Look at you, little miss perfect. I'll bet you’ve never broken a single rule in your life before I came along.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Maybe I don't feel the need to.” The ‘unlike you’ lay on the tip of your tongue, but you didn't need to say it out loud.

Mattheo grinned and shifted in his seat, his knee brushing yours under the table. “You're missing out. Breaking the rules is half the fun. The other half is not getting caught.” He watched you bite your lip, trying to conceal a little smile that threatened to creep onto your face. So, he'd been right, you had enjoyed your more risky encounters. Thinking back to the night in the library when you'd fled from madame pince, he remembered the way your breath had hitched when his hand had touched your neck. The way your soft skin had felt against his rough palms, your doe eyes glittering in the dim light.

Suddenly, there was shuffling in the shelf behind you and you shot around, holding your breath. The place you'd chosen for you tutoring lessons was hidden behind the shelf with the twelfth century economical wizarding records and every single tome in it was layered with a centimeter-thick layer of dust that had allocated there over centuries of disinterest. You'd thought it the perfect hiding spot. But after a few seconds of nervous glancing around and your heart racing as you listened into the silence, one of the school’s cats rounded the shelf and passed by you and Mattheo without a glance.

You breathed a sigh of relief who looked back at Mattheo who was watching you closely. “Dangerous, isn't it? Sitting here with me like this.” He twirled his wand around his fingers and leaned forward subtly, the motion alone making you feel as if he was cornering you against the shelf behind your back. “People would start talking.”

“About what?” you said dismissively and rummaged through your notes, just to have something to do with your hands. This tended to happen once you'd strayed from the topic at hand even slightly. Mattheo starting to tease you out of nowhere, and you struggling to keep up with his quickly changing moods that sometimes threatened to give you whiplash.

Mattheo leaned closer still and propped up his chin on his elbow, still wearing a casual grin. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe about how l've completely corrupted you with my evil charms.”

Your sighed with a mix of exasperation and amusement. Tapping your finger against your chin, you rolled around the words in your head before speaking. “You know I'm not treating this as, I don't know, something forbidden. I'm not scared of, how did you put it last week? Ah, yes, tarnishing my reputation. You're-” you hesitated, but then, your words reached out to him like a welcoming hand through cold and unfeeling fog. “You're not as bad as people think, by a far.”

A dry, almost bitter chuckle fell from his lips as he absentmindedly fiddled with the collar of his blood-stained shirt and bit down on the cut of his lip, drawing drops of red from it that trailed down to his chin without hinderance. This time, you couldn't resist the urge and leaned over the desk, extending a hesitant hand. Mattheo froze, not watching your approaching hand but you, but he didn't recoil either, so you wiped the blood from his chin with the hem of your shirt sleeve. The blood stood out prominently against the white of your shirt.

When you drew back your hand, his shot up like an attacking snake and closed around your wrist. With some sort of morbid fascination, it seemed, he stared at the tiny spot of scarlet, before his eyes snapped back up at you. His tone surprised you, you couldn't really place it, it was a mix of softness and chilling intensity. “You really think there's good in everyone, don't you?” he asked, piercing you with his brown eyes that were so unlike those of his father.

“I try to,” you said, attempting to sound humorous, but the chuckle dried on your lips and your voice swayed to softness as you held his gaze. He didn't have to ask, you could see the question burning in his eyes, so loud as if he'd screamed it. And you didn't even need to nod your head to make him understand that the answer was yes.

The winter holidays came and went. The lesson before departure day, he'd told you he'd stay in Hogwarts over Christmas, and you felt tempted to invite him over to yours for a split second before the cruel claws of reality dug into you and you merely wished him happy holidays.

There was a slight unease in you when you boarded the train, as if something was about to go horribly wrong. But when you arrived after the holidays and left the train alongside Harry, Ron and Hermoine, you spotted his shrouded figure in one corner of Hogsmeade train station, a soft curl of smoke rising from his dark profile. For a split second, you'd locked eyes with him and you couldn't help a smile of relief to see him again.

Because both of your friends started asking questions eventually, you often met up after curfew, though you still hushed around the halls nervously any time you did and earned a great deal of teasing from him for your timidity. From time to time, you managed to break into (you preferred the term sneak into) classrooms at night.

These weeks of sneaking around made you masters of discovering hidden chambers in every corner of the castles, and you were particularly careful and made sure Harry ‘forgot’ the marauders map somewhere in the common room or ‘lost’ it and found it again next morning under his bed. Frequently, you met up in the kitchens and you baked while telling Mattheo all about muggle cellphones, that he understood the concept of surprisingly quickly.

On one occasion, you even demonstrated them to him as you pretended to get lost in the sheer blizzard howling around the houses in Hogsmeade to meet him behind Madam Puddifoots and called your parents, fascinating Mattheo. This night, however, Mattheo had discovered a new room behind the entrance hall. The two of you had cozied up with blankets and candles on the couch, keeping a few inches distance at minimum. The dim candlelight was way too ripe for disaster.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mattheo said an hour and a half into your study session. “Muggles have metal, bird-shaped containers with which they can not only fly, but they actually do it.” You laughed at the incredulity in his voice, though a tad bit distracted by the shape of the record sleeve digging into your back. Because Hogwarts castle only had enchanted record players available, you'd asked your parents to send you one of your vintage vinyls you thought he might like, but you were hesitant, had told yourself that you'd just take it in case there was a record player in the chamber Mattheo had discovered. Well, there was.

“I don't really like planes either,” you said, smiling understandingly, “I even prefer brooms over them and you know how I feel about those.”

He hummed vaguely and glanced over at you. “What's got you so shifty, princess?” A sly grin spread over his features. “You got something hidden behind your back, don't you?” Infuriatingly good at reading you, he was, as ever. With a small sigh, you decided that he'd learned enough about muggle transportation for tonight and pulled the record sleeve out from out of your bag.

“Listen up,” you said, excitement and nervousness coiling in your stomach. “Do you remember when I told you about muggle music?” Though Mattheo had undoubtedly been preoccupied with watching your expression shift with passion and your hands gesticulate, drawing patterns into the air, he nodded. “Okay,” you said, nibbling on your lower lip, and held up the vinyl awkwardly. “I thought I might give you a taste of muggle music, only if you want, of course.”

He could tell you were anxious about playing him the track and raised his brows at your humming and hawing and nervously twitching fingers. “What are you waiting for, princess?” The abashed smile you gave him melted him in ways he'd never be caught admitting out loud.

Sometimes it was quite frightening how you made him feel, and more than once, he'd found himself laying awake at night, not only because of his chronic insomnia and returning nightmares but also torn between the reflexive urge to push away you and how you made him feel so utterly disarmed and vulnerable, and the irresistible desire to see you smile again and let your unconditional kindness wash over him, soothing the dark voices in his head.

By now, you'd walked over to the record player and inserted the vinyl. With a tap of your wand, it started spinning and the sounds of a guitar filled the room. The muggle guitarist played a few chords before starting to sing. When you lowered yourself down on the couch, you didn't bother with putting the usual space between the two of you. No, you seated yourself right beside him, so that he could feel the warmth of your body radiating against his like a hug. As the refrain set in, you put your head on his shoulder.

“And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die”

Mattheo froze for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as your head gently shifted against his shoulder. The simple, unspoken gesture of affection sent a rush of warmth through him that was both startling and utterly intoxicating. He glanced down at you, his a dark eyes softening as they traced over the curve of your cheek, accentuated by the flickering candlelight, and your lashes resting light as feathers against your skin. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, hesitant at first, afraid to disturb the fragile moment. Slowly, very slowly, his hand shifted, fingers brushing against the fabric of the couch before finding their place beside your arm, just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of you.

“Take me out tonight

Take me anywhere, I don't care,

I don't care, I don't care”

He felt like one of the mythological figures you'd told him about. Mattheo had scoffed at Icarus' idiocy, but now, he felt like he could understand where he was coming from. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and teasing, betraying none of the blazing storm raging inside him. But even still, it was edged with a sincerity he couldn't quite hide. “Getting comfortable, are we?”

You only shuffled closer in response, but Mattheo had to suppress the urge to pull you in, wrap his arms around you, drag you into his lap for all the pleasure and calm it would give him. He was a selfish creature, but at this moment, he managed to stay perfectly still, safe for his fingers barely brushing over the fabric of your sleeve. Your breathing, having come in small, hasty little puffs before, slowed as you sat in silence, leaning on each other and listening to the lyrics filling up the space in your room you didn't fill with your words, because they would never be sufficient.

“There is a light that never goes out

There is a light that never goes out

There is a light that never goes out”

The song faded into silence and you started to move again. Mattheo hid his disappointment when you stood up from the couch to walk over to the record player. As you put the vinyl back into its sleeve, you turned back to him and for a few seconds, you merely watched each other in silence. Then, Mattheo rose as well and handed you your bag, that you took without looking at it.

Could it be that you felt the same reluctance to leave this room as he did? But you had to, his gaze flickered to the clock. Other than him, you had the chance to get some sleep tonight. So he threw one quick glance around the room, the floating candles, the sleeping portraits, the empty couch, leaned down to your level and pressed the lightest of kisses to your cheek. It was warm and soft under his lips, and he could hear your breath hitch in your throat. Damn little minx you were.

“Good night,” you said, quietly, and he returned your smile before opening the door for you, the feeling of your skin against his still lingering on his lips.

Maybe you both should have known it was going a bit too well. Maybe you'd become too self-assured in your nightly adventures. In any case, neither of you had caught the portrayed woman in the frame above the couch watching you through half-closed eyes, feigning sleep. As you closed the door behind you, she rose from her false slumber with a dirty secret in her hands- and a burning desire to spread it around the castle.

taglist: @aespaslut @kricketwritesstories @catching-fire-in-the-wind @a-little-funny @thejediprincess56 @polireader @voidangxls @artsyle @nkvgt @ashrocker123 @chimchoom @onlytenkos @yvonne-dump @alwayslatetothefandoms @ravisinghs-wife @eneywey @viylikecats @darksss5516 @cocosparkel @stereading @helendeath

[gingerdusk]

Gale of Waterdeep assorted headcanons: 2

Headcanons 1 here, Tower layout here

He overshares when he's drunk. It's a good look into how his brain works, but he has a 50/50 chance of putting his foot in his mouth

He has a handful of custom spells, one of those being an illusory campsite. Gale's Minor Mirage, he calls it. You're welcome!

The stitch scar on his neck is from being held at knifepoint by a particularly opportunistic thief. Said thief got hit with a lightning bolt

His spellbook is beautifully scripted to the untrained eye, but contains additional notes written in invisible ink. He presents himself as neat and tidy, but his real scribblings are anything but

While inflicted with the Netherese Orb, his blood leaves rashes on other people wherever it touches. Not severe ones, but it doesn't feel pleasant. Like a mild sunburn

Quothe (the raven familiar) is his. It's named that because it loves to listen to Gale read literature (and occasionally recite lines where he leaves off)

He owns a fancy lanceboard set; it was a housewarming gift from his parents when he first got his tower

When he was little, he used to wear a ribbon as a headband to pull his hair back with, and a cape. His hair was fluffy and fell to his chin

His favorite color is blue, but he thinks he looks more refined in purple. His mother thinks he looks most dashing in red

His favorite hobby is helping Tara adapt spells with somatic components for tressym use

His first staff was a Sun Staff, gifted to him by Elminster

His most recent staff was a Staff of Power

Both of these, he had to consume. It was a very, very hard choice to make

Other things he's had to destroy that he cared for dearly:

Emerald Pen (left over from days at the academy; worse that it wasn't worth it, as it didn't give him more than a few hours)

Chromatic Rose (given by a lover upon breakup)

Duplicitous Manuscript (The Art of the Night is one of these)

Needle of Mending (kept it on his person after the thief incident)

Wand of Enemy Detection (carried it with him on excursions with Tara)

Wayfarer's Boots (his favorite travel pair)

Arcane Grimoire (one of his first found artifacts, copied a few spells from it into his own book)

Candle of Invocation (a gift from Mystra)

Crystal Ball of Telepathy (Tara used it more than he did; her little paws can't cast Sending)

Songbird Sage's Signet (wore it everywhere, only used in a pinch; he misses the weight of it and rubs his finger occasionally)

Crown of Whirling Comets (wore it to the Blackstaff annual balls, partly to show off)

The 6th level spell Program Illusion is what appears during his Death Protocol. As it needs to be tied to an area within 30 feet of where it's assigned, it's what his briefs are enchanted with. His reasoning is that he'd always have them, and no one would take them off him while dead

When he's panicked, he burns through the magical item he fed the Orb with faster. That's why he puts such a weight on keeping calm

The reason you have 2 days to resurrect him before exploding, and why he can still live for a bit if you don't give him an item immediately, is because without careful management, it consumes HIM. He has 2 days worth of magic to his person

He doesn't like to turn people down outright. To him, the gentlemanly thing to do is to go on a first date to indulge whomever asked. He's had a lot of first dates

He's been accused of using Enchantment as to why he's so dashing once or twice. It absolutely stoked his ego around his looks

Quipper fish and hundur sauce is the dish he's most proud of, but his favorite is a good slow roast

He'll make illusory ceilings for dates with starry skies and auroras. Maybe floating candles if he's feeling fancy. Yes that extends to the bedroom

If left to his own devices, he will relax in a bath for HOURS. Tara thinks he falls asleep in there (she can't prove anything)

Before the orb, he and his mother had a pseudo-competitive exchange of cookware. They'd take turns making the most ELABORATE dishes in the same fancy glass pan, and send it back and forth trying to outdo each other. Whenever one showed up with the pan, it would always be with a healthy seasoning of smug satisfaction and sweet compliments about the last meal

He likes picnics on the beach. If you show him shells and things he'll happily tell you where they came from

He always dresses just a smidge too warmly for the weather

He can sleep just about anywhere, and frequently does in his tower. It's not good for his back. When Tara finds him, she always tugs a blanket over him

His family symbol is a crescent moon setting in the water

Bonus Tara headcanon: her opal collar is her spellcasting focus

[inheartofwinter]

Drarry fic rec: RON-DRACO FRIENDSHIP

I found this list in my phone recently and honestly couldn't understand why I hadn't posted it yet, so here it is. The criteria for this list is Ron-Draco friendship isn't based on Draco and Harry's relationship. Whether Harry and Draco are on good terms or not, Ron and Draco are still friends.

I love Ron-Draco friendship in Drarry fics a lot. If you also have the same preference, I hope you would enjoy this list.

- Can't Spell Enemy Without Friend (T; 945) by @xx-thedarklord-xx

“Piss off,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying, what if we are making this bigger than it needs to be? They might not even react.”

“After all the valid shit I’ve said about you over the years?” Draco scoffed. “No one is going to believe that we’re friends.”

Or...

The one where Draco and Ron became friends but refuse to admit it because they don't want to see Harry's smug face

- You've got the antidote for me (M; 20,7k) by Kandakicksass

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

- Peeking behind the Curtain (M; 23,5k) by calrissian18

Draco sees things he really, really wishes he didn't. If only to get out of all the homework that comes with it.

- Give Me A Quiet Mind (T; 16,3k) by calrissian18

Draco is Weasley’s assistant. Except for the week he’s not. Whose brilliant idea was that again? Featuring offices in Edinburgh, an epic Measley Bromance (that no one will admit exists), several unrequited crushes, fantastical revenge scenarios, coffee snobbery, the dreaded – yet adorable – toddler terror, promises of organ swapping, a play about Scottish history (no one cares), sequins, and the League of Snarky Secretaries!

- Blow by Blow (T; 7,3k) by calrissian18

Draco is tired of fighting. He’s still not sure he knows how to stop

- Used to be a Hot Boy (Now I'm Stunnin') (M; 6,8k) by TawnyOwl

“Why the hell would you get a fucking paw print tatted on your shoulder?” He prods, laughing at the ridiculousness of it, performing his usual detection spells on Draco’s wand.

“I didn’t. It’s my fucking soulmate being a fucking dick.”

Ron pauses. He stares. Draco stares back, brow raised in a challenge.

“You’re kidding.”

“You tell me, pureblood. Am I?”

- A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing (R; 38k) by mahaliem

Draco hits his head and wakes up in a world where he's a Gryffindor and Harry is a Slytherin

- tinder, flicker, flash (M; 80,3k) by @americanmoths

Molly Weasley takes Draco in after Narcissa, wanted for many murders and schemes, abandons him in the forbidden forest. This is a Drarry story, so obvs your fav schoolyard enemies fall in love, but first Draco has to learn to love his adopted family.

ft. magical Zoom calls, gay solidarity, a prank war, a real war and George Weasley’s unsubstantiated belief in his own psychic abilities.

a story where nobody makes any good decisions, yet everything turns out ok.

(Ron and Draco are more like brothers than friends in this fic.)

Hope you would like these fics!

[lizzieislife94x]

Impossible Mission (w.m)

Requested <3

ill try my best (:

Wanda Maximoff x G!P reader

Y/ns POV:

I walk up and down the jet biting my nails "what if we're walking into a trap Wanda we have no back up it's just you and i" she steps in front of me and rubs my shoulders to calm my nerves "y/n calm down its ok its a simple retrieve mission we just need to get in grab the files and out there's only a handful of hydra agents at this location we got this we work great as a team" I feel my nerves calming and nod "yeah wands you're totally right I'm sorry for freaking out I just get nervous when we have no one near to back us up but Tony wouldn't send us alone if it was dangerous " she looks at me and smiles "exactly now suit up so we can kick some ass and get the files and get back home to the compound" I walk to the back of the jet to get my suit on and take a few deep breaths time to kick some ass y/n you got this "wanda remember put the jet into stealth mode" I yell on the way to the front of the jet "I know I got it y/n we land in exactly 4 minutes are you ready?" I nod and shakes both my hands "it's now or never let's kick some ass Maximoff " I give her a huge grin and she giggles, I follow Wandas lead as we head into the building without being detected I keep my eyes on all areas and sit back and watch as Wanda takes 2 guards out with ease I didn't even have time do anything I stop my movements hearing someone creep up behind me I turn and start fighting one of the hydra agents knocking him out easily smiling at myself proud we make It into the room we've been looking for and both of us quickly search every area looking for the files we need "Wanda stay here get the file I hear someone outside ill handle it" I whisper and sneak out quietly leaving Wanda to get the file as I turn the corner I come face to face with one of the agents and automatically get into fighting stance "oh bring it on buddy" I smirk but suddenly he throws some sort of powder into my face as I take a deep breath, shit what was that I quickly take him down and start freak out, I'm gonna die what was that oh god I crouch down and feel tears as Wanda runs out "I got the..." she stop abruptly and looks at me "y/n what happened are you ok where are you hurt " I try and steady my breathing and stand up "I think I'm gonna die he threw some sort of power in my face and I'm pretty sure it's some sort of poison" I sniff pointing down at the unconscious agent as Wanda giggles like a school girl "I think your going to be ok" she states squeezing my shoulders I look at her confused "Wanda this is serious we need to get back to the lab so Bruce can help me" I feel her eyes travel down my body as she continues to giggle "y/n I promise you, you're going to be ok let's get back to the jet" I follow her eye line to the huge bulge in my suit why the fuck why am I hard the more I look the more my adrenaline calms and I'm hit with the instant feeling of arousal why the fuck am I horny "I'm so confused why am I feeling so uh.." I think of the right words to use as I walk back to the jet super uncomfortable "y/n he hit you with some type of sex pollen, hydra have been working on it what better way to disable a deadly enemy than turn them into a horny motherfucker" she giggles and it starts to click inside my head thank fuck but Holy shit this boner is hurting and making me feel amazing, we get back to the jet as I lay down and Wanda fixes the jet for take off I need to get out of this suit it's making my dick hurt, I take my suit off leaving me in my boxers and sports bra I slowly rub my hand over my bulge fuck that feels good maybe I could whack one out quickly and it will help a little I fucking hope so.

I slide my boxers down and slowly start to rub my hard member oh shit that's good I start to work a little faster moaning as the thought of Wanda pops into my mind why am I thinking about Wanda and why is it making me feel so fucking good "thought I'd find you here in this position" I hear her sweet voice without thinking I turn to face her dick in hand I don't know what it is I think the powder is taking over me I start to work my fist on my cock looking straight into her eyes moaning never breaking eye contact fuck what is happening it's like I can smell her arousal I can smell her pussy, fuck I walk over trapping her against the wall and start to kiss her neck "y/n we shouldn't this is wrong..." she moans not sounding convincing "I want to fuck you so hard you can't walk for a week" I growl into her ear "fuck y/n use me, I want you inside me" I start to rip her suit  off leaving her naked as I spin her to face the wall and spread her legs lining my cock to her entrance slamming inside her without warning "fuckkkkkkk y/n" Wanda screams a mixture of pain and pleasure I gave her a second to adjust and start to thrust deep inside her tight little cunt "fuck Wanda so fucking tight and wet for me the minute you walked into the room I could smell your dripping little pussy" I husk into her ear as she moans in return "such a good little cock slut" I smirk fucking her harder against the wall "y/n don't fucking stop use my pussy fuck your so big I can't hold back I'm Cumming" she moans as she starts to cream all over my cock I look down at the sight and bite her shoulder gently as I continue my brutal pace pounding her pussy not giving her time to recover I'm to focused on my own high fuck it feels so good I slam in deeper and harder feeling the familiar knot in my stomach as I groan "I can't..its coming again " she breaths out whimpering under me after a few more pumps I start to unload my seed deep inside her waiting little cunt "wow fuck" I pant "get on your hands and knees" I whisper into her ear as I slide my dick out her sensitive cunt rubbing the tip against her clit "oh god y/n shit" she moans as she gets onto her hands and knees I moan at the sight of her dripping cunt mixed with both our cum I get down on my knees and line myself up to her waiting core "you're doing so well taking me wands you feel so fucking good your helping me so much" I groan as I slide my dick inside her slowly this time resting my hands on her back as I start to thrust slowly building my speed fuckkkk she feels amazing I groan and slap her ass as she moans and screams my name "I'm gonna cum" she moans out in a whisper as I feel her walls squeeze my cock I continue to thrust as she squirts all over my dick I moan into her ear and thrust harder and faster "to..much y/n I can't fuck so sensitive " I continue to thrust slowly feeling my release approach "give me one more baby I know you have one more in you" I moan rubbing her back "you're doing so fucking well princess one more " she moans "fuck ok y/n I can do one more" I smirk and pick up my pace fucking her at an ungodly pace after a few thrusts I slam deep inside her and fill her with my seed as she screams my name her own orgasm washing over her. 

Arriving home in 8 minutes I hear Jarvas announcing fuck I'm still hard as a rock this is gonna be along night I lean down picking Wanda up sitting her on the bench as I pass her, her suit to get dressed and I go put my suit on and try my best to hide my bulge "I can't walk y/n" Wanda glares "ops I'll carry you" I bite my lip and laugh as the door opens and Tony and Nat stand waiting for us "oh my god Is she OK" Nat yells running to us and Tony smirks "Romanoff she's fine"Tony laughs as I carry Wanda inside Tony stopping us "so I was right they have some sort of sex pollen" he says with a smirk "you knew and you sent us?" I ask glaring at him "not 100% but now I do and I see the way you and witchy look at eachother we could all see the sexual tension so you're welcome" I laugh and look at Wanda "I can't fucking walk Tony" I laugh and carry her upstairs "I promise I'll make it up to you" she bites her lip looking at me "I'm not sorry I'm ready for plenty more poundings till your little problem is sorted just give me 30 mins to calm down" I bite my lip and nod laying beside her. 

AN: hope this is OK if not I will fix bits :) If you have a request let me know and I'll try my best to bring it to life word count for this chapter is 1.7k enjoy  (this is actually a fav of mine anyway drink water and stay hydrated babe<3)

[themagicalkidproject]

can you do the trans barbie flag by puriette

This Flag was requested by Anonymous!

Trans Barbie is a term and flag coined by @puriette describing a gender related to being a trans Barbie!

This Magical Girl has a Barbie theme, specifically an Earring Magic Barbie theme! She uses She/Her pronouns!

Her name is Tutti, after a discontinued version of one of Barbie’s siblings! She has knowledge far beyond what she should, allowing her to use the skills of doctors, farmers, veterinarians, firefighters, detectives, astrophysicists, chemists, baseball players, pilots, bee keepers, and many more! Essentially, if the Barbie DOLL has had the career, Tutti can use her skills!

Her Magical Girl Weapon are a pair of indestructible ribbon wands, as a reference to the Three Musketeers Barbie movie! Tutti can use them to trip up or otherwise impede and immobilize her enemies!

A useless fact about her is that her favorite movie as a kid was Fairytopia 3: Magic of the Rainbow, but she fucking despised Bibble with a passion. She’s growing past that and admits he has a bit of a place in her heart now.

The Magical Kid Project is a project wherein I steadily turn Pride Flags into Magical Kids. You can request a Flag and Theme using Comments, Reblogs, or Asks!

[dhr-ao3]

Wands and Warrants

Wands and Warrants https://ift.tt/L04rMyE by radagastcar The eccentric team at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's Misuse of Magic Task Force tackles bizarre magical crimes, uncovers dark conspiracies, and deals with increasingly absurd office politics as they try to unravel the mystery of "the Quacker," a criminal mastermind raining hell - and rubber ducks - on Muggle London. Draco Malfoy is reassigned from the Auror Office to Deputy Lead and Sergeant at the MMTF, a new task force led by Captain Hermione Granger which aims to some day become a Ministry Department. Captain Granger attempts to guide her merry band of misfits - including Detective Blaize Zabini, Officer Iris Wren, Officer Pip Rakepick, and administrator Madame Grimble - to solve crimes by dinnertime. Words: 5260, Chapters: 1/22, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M, Gen Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Mystery, DMLE | Department of Magical Law Enforcement (Harry Potter), Romantic Comedy, Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, Reckless Overuse of Pop Culture References, A Quicker Burn than the Author Intended, no beta we die like Hedwig, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Eventual Smut, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, What is the Purpose of a Rubber Duck via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/3Y2TKiN March 23, 2025 at 02:38AM

[rainbowxocs]

Name: James DuPont.

Alt Names: C.A.T, Pluto, Charon, Jane Doe.

Special Titles: Dr. James DuPont, Grandmaster, God Killer, Cat Burglar, EOD, Lieutenant Colonel, Sharpshooter, False God, The Star, Narrator.

Old Titles: Knight, God of Duality, God of Judgement, God of Eternity, God of Chaos, Servant, Empiric.

Username: @kitty9lives

Nicknames: Bad Omen, Kit Cat, Cat Boy, My Rose, My Star, Stray, Blue Bird, Kitty, Chaton, Bunny, Phoenix, Holmes, My Beloathed, Final Girl, The Prophet, Schrodingers Cat.

Chronological Age: 4.5 Billion.

Vessel Age: 605.

Age: 45.

Pronouns: Switches between He, She, and They. Depending on what gender he is that day. (Switches between il or elle in French)

Sexuality: Gay.

Gender: Genderfluid, Catgender.

Base Species: Starling.

Current Species: “Human” (Pure Hybrid)

Hybrid Info: (Sphinx, Litch, Witch.)

Disorders: CPTSD, Autism, Insomnia, Selective Mutism, Night Terrors, BPD, Anorexia.

Physical Disabilities: Blind, Deaf (Has a Cochlear Implant), Ambulatory Wheelchair User (Occasionally uses crutches or a cane as well), Has two arm prosthetics and two leg prosthetics, Chronic Pain.

Recovering Addictions: Alcohol, Weed, Nicotine (Cigarettes), LSD, Self Harm.

Religion: Pagan.

Job: Professional Villain, Chemist.

Degree: M.D, Chemistry, Robotics, Computer Science.

Lives in: NYC, New York, 2307.

Languages: French, English, Hindi, ASL, LSF, Spanish, Italian, German, Danish, Dutch.

Height: 5’7”.

Ethnicity: French, Portuguese.

Accent: Brooklyn Accent with a hint of French.

Other Form: Purple Goop.

Animal Form: Giant Purple Isopod.

Spirit Form: Headless, Covered in Roses.

Spirit Level: Acceptance.

Powers: Reanimating, Creation Magic, Death Magic, Prophetic Visions, Judgement, Potions, Alchemy, Shapeshifting, Strings, Pandora’s Box, Lightning Magic, Technology Manipulation, Lie Detection, Time Magic, Forbidden Fruit.

Tech: Holograms, Robotic Minions, Smoke Bombs, Paint Bombs, Teleporters, Lock Picks, Lazers.

Weapons: Sword, Pistols, Sniper Rifle, Bombs, Rocks, Scissors, Various Witchcraft Supplies such as salt, wards, etc, Scissors.

Also Can Use: Muskets, Rifled Muskets, Rifles,

Wand: Uses his hands.

Alignment: Chaotic Good.

Text Color: Purple, Sometimes Black.

Main Animal: Cat.

Main Hobbies: Reading, Video Games, Sculpting, Yugioh, Violin, Otamatone, Puzzles, Robotics, Scientific Experimentation, Coding, Chess, Letter Making, Tambourine, Photography, Flute.

Favorite Drinks: Peppermint Tea, Coffee, Classic Boba.

Favorite Snacks: Queso, Saltines, Apples.

Favorite Meals: Garlic Bread, Dino Nuggets and Fries, Mushroom and Olives Pizza, Pancakes, Veal Stew, Pigs in a Blanket, Hot Dogs, Tuna, Chicken Wings, Mac and Cheese, Ham Sandwiches, Maki Rolls, Sashimi, Bagels.

Favorite Candy: Pez, Oreos.

Favorite Dessert: Gingerbread Cookies, Frosted Sugar Cookies, Birthday Icecream.

Favorite Flower: Roses, Purple Forget Me Not.

Scent: Roses.

Handedness: Left Handed.

Blood Color: Bronze, Sometimes Red.

Awareness: Very Aware. (Effect: Negative.)

Birthday: December 1st 1701. (Sagittarius.)

Theme:

Playlist:

Fun Facts: He is always wearing cat patterns and tends to have toe beans on his shoes and gloves.

Special Interests: Technology, Robotics, Chemistry, The Sims, The Path, Sailor Moon, Disney Fairies, The Owl House, Steven Universe, FNAF, Kitty Love: Way to Look for Love.

Stims: Tangles, Cat Noises, Lazer Pointer, Yarn, Pressure Stims.

Stimboard: COMING SOON.

Moodboard: COMING SOON.

Fashion Board: COMING SOON.

Comfort Objects: Wedding Ring with Gold Band and Amethyst, Journal, Furby, Freddy Plush, Old Cat Plush, Gloomy Bear, Fuggler.

Family: Unknown Birth Parents.

Friends: Joan (Henchman.), Kriston.

Romance: Jonah Francois, Aditya Ravi. (Spouses.)

Enemies: Jonah Francois (Mortal Enemy), Michael Ansley.

Patrons: Bastet, Santa Muerte, Hecate.

Pets: Eyeball (Robot), Chain Chomp (Roomba), Mr Terminator (Black and White Cat),

Reincarnations: 𒆠𒋫 (Kita), חַוָּה (Eve), Πανδώρα (Pandora), दिया (Diya), Juliet, Pied Piper, Other Unknown Reincarnations.

Brief Personality: James is a bit of an enigma. He doesn’t get close to many people, often his ramblings about taking over the world push people away. However if you are persistent, he will warm up to you like a stray. He is incredibly intelligent, and also very very VERY stubborn. But he is incredibly loyal to the people he loves. If you are able to gain his trust he would let the world burn for you, without any hesitation.

Brief Backstory: [COMING SOON]

[twinkletoeskc]

Untitled Marauders Fanfic Ch. 3

Link to Ch. 2

Summary: Cosette finds the object of her latest news story under the guise of being an innocent Hufflepuff who simply wants to help in the name of love. I mean what’s more interesting than a secret plot for love?

Heavy enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, multiple relationships, multiple POVs, found family, toxic relationships, abusive families

Ships: James Potter x O/C, Remus Lupin x O/C, Sirius Black x O/C

Warnings: blackmail, slight coercion, lying, one mischievous Hufflepuff

A/N: thank you if you’ve been reading up until this point it is greatly appreciated. Let me know in the comments if you have any suggestions, questions, or simply something fun to share! Thank u🫶🏻💕

O/C Character Moodboard:

Untitled Fanfic Ch. 3

She sneezes, the dust from the old books finding its way into her sinuses. She anticipates the “shh!” from Madam Pince before she hears it. “Sorry…” she whispers, a bundle of books nestled under her arm. She ducks away from the librarian’s glare, walking to one of the long wooden tables.

She sits at the end away from most of the other students and opens an antiquated copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, flipping to the back to find the index.

“Wampus cat… water dragon parasite…” She mumbles to herself, dragging her finger down the page as she reads. “Ah, werewolf.”

She flips a few sections back, finding the desired chapter marked by a large illustration of a werewolf crouched mid-stride. “Gross,” she whispers, her eyes drifting slowly from the picture to the words beneath.

‘A werewolf, also known as a lycanthrope, was a human being who, upon the complete rising of the full moon, became an uncontrollable, fearsome, and deadly wolf. This condition is caused by infection with lycanthropy, also known as werewolfry. There are various differences between a werewolf’s wolf form and an actual wolf, making it easier to detect one.’

So absorbed into her reading, she doesn’t hear the commotion surrounding her until someone runs bodily into the table, upsetting the contents and knocking her book onto her lap. She looks up to find Sirius Black laughing, perched on the table with his wand raised. He points his wand to James Potter who, on the other side of the library, laughs heartily, on the defensive.

Sirius unleashes a spell in James’s direction, but the other boy dodges and allows the spell to hit the book behind his head, which suddenly sprouts colorful, patterned fur on its leather-bound cover.

“Mr. Black!” Madam Pince screeches, frantically making her way to him.

“Sorry, Madam Pince! My hand slipped, honest.” Sirius says with a broad grin. He looks down at Cosette and winks charmingly before slipping away, running between the shelves and dodging retaliatory curses from James.

She closes her book, slipping it in her robes and quickly making her way out of the library before she falls victim to one of the boys’ jinxes. She wanders the halls in search of a quiet place to study. She’s not sure how she ended up there, but without intending to, she finds herself situated in the potions classroom, empty after its last class. She makes her way to a table, absently flipping to her bookmarked page as she takes a seat.

‘A mixture of powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh werewolf bite would seal the wound and allow the victim to live on as a werewolf, although tragic tales were told of bite victims begging for death rather than becoming werewolves. The Wolfsbane Potion, invented by Damocles Belby, allows werewolf drinkers to keep their human mind during transformation.’

Her eyes flit across the page curiously, her brow frowning as she reads on.

‘A werewolf cannot choose whether or not to transform and will no longer remember who they are once transformed. Multiple werewolves have been known to kill their best friends or loved ones while in wolf form if they were given the chance. Despite this, a werewolf will be able to recall everything they had experienced throughout their transformation upon reverting to their human form.’

The door creaks open, and she looks up to see a tall, black-haired wizard slip into the room. He pauses when he sees her, obviously expecting the room to be empty. He’s pale and tired looking, deep purple circles sitting under his eyes. His hair sits limply around his face, and his shoulders hunch like a boy who grew too much too fast, unsure of his height.

She raises a hand, waving awkwardly. “Uh, hello.”

“You’re in my seat.” The boy responds in greeting, his voice croaky like he hasn’t spoken in quite some time.

“Oh, um…” She looks around at where she sits, trying to find some identifiable feature that would mark the seat as his, but she can’t find anything that would distinguish it from the dozen other empty seats at the surrounding tables. But the boy waits, uncomfortably standing beside the door and watching her expectantly. “Right… sorry about that.” She picks her bag up from the floor and collects the book from the table. “There you are.” She says, moving away from his seat and offering him a small smile that he does not return.

He slips past her, his gaze downcast, and sinks into the seat. He places a thick and worn book on the table, the gilded Advanced Potion Making nearly worn completely off the leather cover.

She takes a seat at an adjacent table, returning to where she left off.

‘The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually proceeded and succeeded by pallor and ill health, and it is possible for the werewolf to display irritation toward friends and family leading up to the full moon. While in their wolfish form, a werewolf will entirely lose its human sense of right and wrong. However, it is incorrect to state that they have suffered from a permanent loss of moral sense.’

She is pulled from her focus by the smell of vanilla, the distant scent of a fire, and an aroma of something woodsy and pleasant. She breathes in the fragrance, a feeling of warmth expanding in her chest, and looks up from her book. The other wizard sits over a bubbling cauldron, his face tense in concentration. His book is open before him, and when she glances at it, she sees that every centimeter of free space is crammed full of notes.

She becomes increasingly distracted from her reading, watching him brew with a passion she finds fascinating. She closes her book softly, twisting in her seat to face him. “What are you making?” She asks.

He pauses slowly, his gaze slowly flickering to her as if he didn’t realize she was speaking to him. “What?” He asks gruffly.

She nods to the cauldron before him, “The potion you’re making, what is it?”

His look wavers between her and his work like he’s debating whether to answer her or not. “Amortentia.” He says finally, returning to his potion.

She pauses, knowing she has heard that name before in a potions class but not making the connection. “Amortentia…” she mumbles to herself, willing herself to recount Slughorn’s lessons. As she ponders, she watches as the wizard delicately picks up a large white pearl from his collection of ingredients scattered around him. The pearl is dropped into the cauldron with a light splash, and the aroma from before instantly floods her senses with a captivating intensity. It’s then that she realizes what he’s brewing.

“A love potion!” She exclaims, intrigued, and the wizard flinches, faltering in his stirring. “Yes…” he says slowly, gazing determinedly into the bubbling, pearlescent liquid.

She shifts in her seat, trying to get a better look. “You know those are banned, don’t you?” She asks in a conspiratorial whisper. He looks at her then, his gaze dark. “Will you report me?” He asks tensely. She doesn’t detect the thinly veiled threat in his tone, responding, “Not if you tell me who the potion is for.”

He grimaces, reducing the fire under the cauldron and busying himself by returning the ingredients to the pantry on the other side of the classroom. She stands from her seat, grabbing the remaining glass vials of ingredients. She corners him in the pantry, and he jumps when he turns to find her suddenly before him.

“What are you doing?” He asks, a note of panic in his voice as he flattens himself to the shelf behind him.

“Helping you clean.” She says innocently, standing on her toes to place an ingredient in its proper place on the shelf right beside his head. He swallows nervously, his discomfort nearly palpable.

She looks up into his face curiously, “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.” His jaw clenches, “I always look like this.” Her eyebrows quirk, “Oh…”

“Won’t you move?” He growls, looking as if he would rather melt into the shelf than touch her himself to push her away.

“When you tell me who the potion is for.” She says simply.

A hint of red rushes to his cheeks, giving his sickly pallor a flush of life. “Move.” He says again, a hand disappearing into the pocket of his robes.

She sighs, “It’s a pity you won’t tell me, but I’m sure Dumbledore will be much more persuasive.” His eyes narrow, “Are you threatening me?” He asks. She looks at the wand he pulled from his robes, “Are you?”

His lips thin, and the grip tightens on his wand for a millisecond before he returns it to the pocket of his robes. “Fine.”

Her eyes widen, “Fine?”

He glares at her and nods curtly. She grins broadly at him, “Brilliant.”

They return to his table, and she sits across from him as he carefully pours his potion into a glass vial. She leans forward, resting her chin on her hands. “So,” she says.

Snape stops the bottle without looking at her, “So?”

“So, who is it?”

He bites the inside of his cheek and looks at her from underneath his eyebrows, the urge to jinx her visible on his features. Her eyebrows raise patiently, “I think I heard Dumbledore just down the hall…”

“Fine! You menace.” He grumbles, stowing the potion away in his bag. He busies himself by continuing to fumble in his bag, so he doesn’t have to meet her eye, grumbling something under his breath.

She blinks, “I’m sorry?”

His jaw clenches, and he says it again, louder.

She frowns, “Who’s Fanny Blevins?”

He looks at her incensed, “It’s Lily Evans, damn it.”

She pauses, her mouth frozen in the shape of an ‘o.’

His face is nearly the scarlet of the Gryffindor crest, and he doesn’t attempt to contain the loathing in his gaze. “Well?”

“I—Isn’t she dating James Potter?”

That was obviously the wrong thing to say because with a furious glance he storms to the door.

“Wait, I’m sorry!” She calls out, spelling the door closed with a flick of her wand. He flips around, his black hair strewn around his face. “You’re kidnapping me now?”

“No! I—well…”

“What do you want?”

“I want to help you,” she says earnestly.

His eyes narrow in suspicion, “Help me?”

“Yes!” She nods eagerly.

He frowns, “How would you help me?”

“I can help you, you know, romance Lily Evans.”

He grimaces, turning away from her and setting his hand on the door of the classroom. “I don’t enjoy being toyed with.” He pushes on the door, but she locked it with her spell. He huffs, “Let me leave!”

She stands up, walking closer to him. Once again, he flattens himself to the door to create more distance. “I want to help you win over Lily Evans without using the Amortentia.” She says.

He furrows his eyebrows, “Why would you do that?”

“Because, well… because I think it’s sweet. If you took the time to brew the potion for her, then you must care a lot about her. And if she’s not dating James Potter—”

“She is most certainly not dating Potter.” He snarls, and Cosette raises her hands innocently, “Okay, I’m sensing some bitterness there, moving on. If she’s not dating anyone, then I can’t see why she wouldn’t go for you!”

He looks at her skeptically, “You don’t know me.”

She shrugs, “So?”

His eyes waver, and he takes a moment to think about her offer. “You’ll help me with Lily? Truly?”

She smiles, “Yes! Promise,” she extends her pinky towards him, and he recoils from it as if it is toxic. She eyes him warily, “You, uh, don’t know how to pinky promise?”

“Is that a binding spell?”

“No! It’s—ugh, never mind. I swear that I will help you.”

He looks into her face, his expression unreadable, before speaking. “Okay.”

She smiles, “Okay!” With a flick of her wand, she unlocks the door. He pushes open the door with a quickness as if escaping from a hungry blaze.

“Wait!” She says as he begins to scamper down the hallway.

“What?” He asks, impertinent.

“What’s your name?” She asks.

He blinks, “Severus.”

She smiles, “Nice to meet you Severus!” She yells as he escapes around the corner, “I’m—”

“Cosette,” someone cuts her off. She turns to see Professor Sprout, letter in hand. “Yes, professor?”

“I was just coming to deliver this to your headboy, but I might as well tell you in person now. Mr. Filch just came to me about your detention, said that you’ll need to meet Professor Slughorn in the Potions classroom Saturday at eight in the morning and he’ll have some work for you to do.”

She winces; she had forgotten about the detention. “Yes, professor.”

Professor Sprout nods, bustling away, “Oh, and do remember to study the properties of Mandrakes before our next class!” She says as she exits.

Cosette, however, does not hear her, instead thinking about her romance scheme. It’s going to be hard work, but she has faith in herself to make that union happen.

And it will be a great story.

[9800sblog]

hey i love your readings please can you do ateez members overall currently how they doing?

ateez tarot reading

current vibes

all

7 of pentacles, the tower, queen of cups, king of pentacles

things are going really well, probably just as they planned career wise and in personal life, the tower seems like a messy but good change considering the other cards.

seonghwa

2 of wands, the fool, death, the star

silly silly, having fun, planning and working, he's having a good time, very relevant change showing up.

hongjoong

the sun reversed, the lovers, the hanged man, knight of wands

seeing where the wind takes him? he's keeping most about his life and career hidden so I'll respect that, but relevant topics are: his ideas, perspectives, energy, relationships, work and love life are currently easy going and lightweight. he's just enjoying a good time.

yunho

2 of cups, justice, the magician, wheel of fortune reversed (fell upward then reversed), 3 of wands

"karma's a bitch", power position, may be planning some revenge kkkk but cards took a while to fall, which I understood as he doesn't wanna expose much about it. his present is walking side by side with someone else's.

yeosang

the world, 5 of pentacles reversed, 4 of pentacles

extremely focused on work, getting things in the right place, doing things in his way, "this is my world, you just live in it", these guys may have big enemies but they're way smarter. I'm really laughing at the spreads so far, I wouldn't wanna be on his bad side.

san

king of pentacles, the chariot, king of pentacles

he's more worried about leading a good life, having good company by his side, but the shuffled song indicates someone (s) isn't happy about it? he's so passionate about his own life and personal style that he Will kick your face.

mingi

king of swords, justice, the hermit reversed, 2 of pentacles

the topic of revenge is very consistent, he isn't planning tho, he's getting things done physically. either way, he's living a good time, in the 3d and having important, strong ideas. balancing things and playing along in the meantime, the cards are very indicative og detective/police work.

wooyoung

ace of cups reversed, knight of cups, 4 of wands

"work feels like vacation when you do what you love" vibes, "we've got the keys to open paradise and it feels like we could do this all night", idk this dude is just having a good life, laughing a lot, consistently happy and fulfilled. ace of cups reversed with the rest of the cards would indicate it's not a new feeling.

jongho

2 of cups, the empress, judgement

again, "karma's a bitch!", I think he has fun causing trouble with other people, specially someone who's intimate with him (family, romance, best friends, etc), the "I break trauma with my world in the back" part of the song is so relevant and consisentent throughout this reading, I wonder what they and kq are up to.

[thecreaturecodex]

Tricolor Dragon

Image © @tredlocity

[Sponsored by @crazytrain48. Originally called the “rainbow dragon”, when it’s only red white and blue. The “rainbow dragon” originates after Arduin had gone from “David Hargrave’s homebrew D&D” to “David Hargrave’s replacement D&D”, and after the publication of the original AD&D Monster Manual. I wonder if, therefore, a multiheaded, multicolored dragon that’s not very smart is supposed to be an homage/parody of Tiamat. The sponsor wanted me to work some Tiamat reference into the text despite her not being PF canon (as a five headed super chromatic dragon; thanks @strawberry-crocodile​ for pointing out that primal saltwater goddess Tiamat does exist), and I was happy to oblige.

Also, is the art great or what? Tred consistently nails that cartoony high fantasy feeling I associate with Arduin.]

Tricolor Dragon CR 10 CN Dragon This dragon has red white and blue scales—the red is most common on the body, the white on the wings and the blue on the head. One of its heads has red accents in the form of its horns and beard, one of its heads has white accents, and the third blue. Each head bears a different expression.

A tricolor dragon is a strange cross between multiple types of chromatic dragons and hydras. Their origins are unknown. Hypotheses range from wild magic to fleshwarping, or even as an homage to a multiheaded dragon god from another multiverse. Few tricolor dragons care much to inquire, and individual heads may even disagree among themselves. Each head of a tricolor dragon has a slightly different personality—white heads tend to be the most hedonistic, blue the most logical and red the most self-assured. Tricolor dragons are despised by chromatic dragons in general, and their counterpart colors especially. Red dragons disdain them for their stupidity, blue dragons see them as dangerously reckless, and white dragons especially are jealous of their magical prowess.

Although tricolor dragons are slightly stupid by human standards, they have very strong personalities and an inherent gift for magic. They can speak all languages reflexively and even cast multiple spells at once by using multiple heads, although this is tiring and the dragons can’t do so too frequently. Each head has a different breath weapon, with the color of the head corresponding to the element type. They typically rotate between breath weapons, but if sorely pressed, the tricolor dragon can use all three at once. And if they run out of magic tricks, they still have the physique and natural weapons of a dragon. They are slower in the air than true dragons of their size, but much more maneuverable. 

Tricolor dragons are very curious about magic, although they tend to have too short of attention spans for real serious study. Most tricolor dragons spent their time enjoying their hoards, lazing about in freshwater, or simply talking to themselves. They are especially fond of elves, and do not discriminate between alignments or lineages in this case (which can result in either conflicts or reconciliations between surface elves and drow). They care little about coinage; a tricolor dragon prefers quantity to quality, and will gladly trade a small pile of gold for a larger one of copper. Magic items, however, they covet, and stealing even a minor wand or spell scroll from a tricolor dragon is a sure way to make an enemy for life.

Tricolor dragons are good parents, and mother and father raise their children together. Family ties are important to tricolor dragons, and adult children may visit their parents for extended periods (although this is usually accompanied by good-natured bickering).

Tricolor Dragon    CR 10 XP 9,600 CN Huge dragon Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft., detect magic, low-light vision, Perception +19 Defense AC 22, touch 10, flat-footed 20 (-2 size, +2 Dex, +12 natural) hp 138 (12d12+60) Fort +13, Ref +10, Will +10 DR 10/magic; Immune paralysis, sleep; Resist cold 10, electricity 10, fire 10; SR 21 Defensive Abilities slippery mind Offense Speed 60 ft., fly 100 ft. (good maneuverability), swim 60 ft. Melee 3 bites +18 (1d10+8), 2 claws +18 (1d8+8) Space 15 ft.; Reach 10 ft. (15 ft. with bite) Special Attacks breath weapon (90 ft. line, 6d6 cold, electricity or fire, Ref DC 21, 1d4 rounds), multibreath, multicasting Spell-like Abilities CL 12th, concentration +16 (+20 casting defensively) Constant—detect magic, tongues Spells CL 9th, concentration +13 (+17 casting defensively) 4th (5/day)—confusion (DC 18), wall of ice 3rd (7/day)—clairaudience/clairvoyance, displacement, fireball (DC 17) 2nd (7/day)—blindness/deafness (DC 16), bull’s strength, see invisibility, scorching ray 1st (7/day)—identify, mage armor, magic missile, ray of enfeeblement (Dc 15), shocking grasp 0th—arcane mark, dancing lights, detect poison, mage hand, message, prestidigitation, read magic, resistance Statistics Str 26, Dex 15, Con 20, Int 9, Wis 10, Cha 19 Base Atk +12; CMB +22; CMD 34 (38 vs. trip) Feats Alertness, Combat Casting, Combat Reflexes (B), Empower Spell, Eschew Materials (B), Flyby Attack, Iron Will, Power Attack Skills Bluff +17, Fly +15, Knowledge (arcana) +12, Perception +19, Sense Motive +17, Spellcraft +12, Swim +16; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception Languages Draconic, tongues SQ multiheaded reflexes Ecology Environment any hills Organization solitary, pair or family (3-6) Treasure double standard Special Abilities Multibreath (Su) As a full round action, a tricolor dragon can use all three of its breath weapons at once. It may choose to breathe them in different directions, or fill the same line with two or three of its weapons. Creatures caught in the area of multiple breath weapons get a separate Reflex save for each. When a tricolor dragon uses this ability, it must wait 3d4 rounds to use any of its breath weapons. Multicasting (Su) As a full round action, a tricolor dragon can cast up to six levels of spells (0th level spells count as 1st level spells for this purpose). These spells can be modified with metamagic feats with no increase to casting time, but the tricolor dragon expends spell slots as normal. A tricolor dragon can use this ability three times per day, but must wait 1d4 rounds between uses. Multiheaded Reflexes (Ex) A tricolor dragon gains Combat Reflexes as a bonus feat. It can always make at least three attacks of opportunity, one bite attack with each head, no matter its Dexterity score. Slippery Mind (Ex) If a tricolor dragon is affected by an enchantment spell or effect and fails its saving throw, she can attempt it again 1 round later at the same DC. It gets only this one extra chance to succeed on its saving throw. Spells A tricolor dragon can cast spells as a 9th level sorcerer. It does not gain any other benefits of the sorcerer class, such as bloodline powers, unless it takes levels in sorcerer.

[brinefathomcaves]

Jul 27: The Aboleth’s Vault

The walls of this long, submerged room are carved into mostly-empty shelves that cradle a few gelatinous orbs, similar to frog eggs and roughly the size of a grapefruit. In fact, they are various potions: an oil of slipperiness, two potions of poison, a potion of superior healing, a potion of invisibility, and a potion of invulnerability. The shelves are shaped specifically to hold these orbs, so the other objects they contain are not immediately obvious: a headband of intellect, a wand of enemy detection, and an oddly-shaped robe of eyes. These items (but not the potions) bear a minor curse that allows the aboleth and its servants to automatically know if a creature they can see is attuned to one of them. Remove curse and similar affects remove this curse.

The basin at the far end of the room is full of greyish ooze that scintillates in light—preserved memories of the aboleth who has lived in the caves for hundreds of years. A creature who concentrates on it can learn information about any aspect of the caves as the legend lore spell. However, a non-aboleth who does so must then make a Wisdom save or be struck with long-term madness. If a non-Aboleth uses the basin more than once in a week, they are automatically struck with long-term madness after the second use (and any subsequent uses), with no save allowed.

[datadegroove]

idk what noita means or in what language but the name of this game really needs to be Tithe because i swear to god there's a hidden meter in it that detects when you successfully get something good and then it makes sure that you pay the tithe by generating something of equal badness ahead of you. get a good wand early on? oh that means that once you get to the snowy area there's one of those electric guys DIRECTLY above one of those crowds of jetpack soldiers. so when you run away from the electric guy you get shot to death by the jetpack soldiers. get a bunch of gold randomly? oh well in the next area every single enemy will be packed into the starting zone and when you shoot them they'll drop more lava than could possibly exist in their body and then you'll try to extinguish it, get stuck in the rock that gets formed and die. and you die in less than a tenth of a second in this game. how tf am i supposed to know

[pathfinderunlocked]

Hakkari Adherent - CR8 Humanoid

The Altar of Blood must be protected.

Artwork by Vablo on DeviantArt.

This NPC is a follower of a hakkari kami, a guardian spirit of spilled blood, which I posted earlier this week. The hakkari kami is based on a Warcraft creature named Hakkar. Hakkari adherents make blood sacrifices to their kami in order to win their approval, gain their blessings, and maybe be chosen to ascend and became hakkari kami themselves in death if they're devout enough.

Although more common races like orcs and gnolls would make fitting hakkari adherents, I used the kuru race for this creature. Kuru are an obscure humanoid race of cannibalistic, tribal island-dwellers - Black Dragon Gaming has a good video about them. If you want a hakkari adherent of a different race, changing its racial features should be relatively trivial.

I built this NPC as a unique creature, rather than giving it class levels.

It usually uses its totem ability to cast either blood armor, resist energy, or magic weapon, depending on what bonuses its allies would actually benefit from.

Because blood blaze is an absolutely terrible spell, it probably isn't even worth worrying about fire resistance for it, but it's enough to make this creature pick fire as its default element for resist energy if it doesn't have any information about its enemies.

Hakkari Adherent - CR 8

The brutal-looking man is covered in fresh blood, poured over him like spilled paint. He resembles a muscular human, but with an unusual face with beady eyes, and discolored skin.

XP 4,800 NE Medium humanoid (kuru) Init +2 Senses light sensitivity, low-light vision; Perception +10

DEFENSE

AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+2 Dex, +1 dodge, +4 mage armor) hp 71 (10d8+30) plus 10 temp hp Fort +13, Ref +7, Will +12 Defensive Abilities bare berserking, blood courage

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft. Melee +1 shortsword +12/+7 (1d6+4/19-20), bite +6 (1d6+1 plus cannibalistic vitality) Special Attacks bleeding sneak attack 1d6, cannibalistic vitality

Spell-like Abilities (CL 10th)     Constant—blood blaze

Spells Prepared (CL 10th; concentration +13)     4th—blesssing of fervor, divine power*     3rd—blood armor, rage (dreamed secrets), vampiric touch* (touch +9)     2nd—blood of the martyr (DC 15) (x2), death knell (touch +9, DC 15), resist energy (x2), spiritual weapon* (attack +12, 1d8+3/19-20)     1st—cure light wounds (x4), mage armor (dreamed secrets, already cast), magic weapon*, protection from good     0th—bleed, detect magic, light, stabilize

Domain blood (* indicates a domain spell)

STATISTICS

Str 16, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 8, Wis 16, Cha 7 Base Atk +7; CMB +10; CMD 22 Feats Dodge, Dreamed Secrets, Great Fortitude, Spell Focus (necromancy), Toughness, Weapon Focus (shortsword) Skills Heal +9, Knowledge (religion) +5, Perception +10 Languages Kuru SQ aura, dreamed secrets NPC Gear +1 short sword, cloak of resistance +2, wooden unholy symbol, wand of cure light wounds (30 charges), 10 gp

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Aura (Su) A hakkari adherent has an evil aura as a cleric of its level.

Bare Berserking (Ex) While a hakkari adherent is wearing no armor, at the start of each of its turns, it gains number of temporary hit points equal to its hit dice (typically 10), which last until the start of its next turn.

Bleeding Sneak Attack (Ex) A hakkari adherent can choose to deal either an additional 1d6 damage or 1d6 bleed damage when it attacks an opponent that is denied its dexterity bonus to AC or when flanking an opponent. The target must be within 30 ft., and the attack must deal lethal damage. Targets immune to precision damage are immune to this ability.

The hakkari adherent must be able to see the target well enough to pick out a vital spot and must be able to reach such a spot. A hakkari adherent cannot sneak attack while striking a creature with concealment.

Blood Courage (Ex) Once per day when a hakkari adherent makes a saving throw against a fear effect, it can roll the saving throw twice and take the better result. It must decide to use this ability before the saving throw is attempted.

Cannibalistic Vitality (Ex) When a hakkari adherent hits a living creature with its bite attack, it gains 1 temporary hit point by ingesting the target’s blood. This ability does not work on creatures that do not have blood.

Dreamed Secrets (Ex) A hakkari adherent gains Dreamed Secrets as a bonus feat, despite not worshiping a great old one or outer god. It typically prepares the rage and mage armor spells with this feat.

Spellcasting A hakkari adherent casts spells as a 10th-level warpriest. It gains spells (but not other abilities) from the blood domain. It does not gain any other warpriest class abilities.

Totem (Su) When casting a beneficial spell with a range of touch or close that targets a single creature, a hakkari adherent can cast the spell into a totem which it plants into the ground at its feet as part of the casting of the spell. Instead of affecting a single creature for the duration of the spell, the spell emanates from the totem, affecting all of the hakkari adherent's willing allies within close range of the totem (typically 45 ft.). If a creature moves further than close range from the totem, the spell stops affecting that creature, but any ally of the hakkari adherent that moves into the spell's range gains its effects.

A hakkari adherent can only have one totem at a time. A totem is a small unattended object with 1 hit point and 6 AC, and is automatically destroyed by any amount of damage. If a totem is moved or destroyed, the spell cast through it ends.

[johnstock17]

"Amortentia Overdose" part 1

Romilda.

That was the thought that reigned in his head as he woke up. It was the only thought, really.

The full moon cast its silvery glow upon the darkened Gryffindor dormitory, illuminating Harry Potter’s restless form as he sat abruptly on his bed. His heart pounded with a primal rhythm, each beat sending waves of desire coursing through his body.

He was consumed by lustful thoughts of Romilda Vane, whose seductive smile and bewitching eyes had ensnared him. As beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, Harry knew that mere dreams could not quench his thirst for Romilda. He needed to find her. To touch her. To taste her.

"Let's see where you are," he whispered hoarsely to himself.

He reached to grab the Marauder’s Map from his trunk. He usually used it for emergencies. Which is why it felt right in this situation. With a deft flick of his wrist, he tapped his wand and muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He really meant it.

The map sprang to life, revealing the intricate layout of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the whereabouts of every soul within its walls.

"Romilda Vane," Harry breathed, his eyes scanning the parchment hungrily. His pulse quickened when he finally located her name. She was in the library, accompanied by Parvati Patil. "Of course," he murmured, recalling how studious both girls were known to be. "Late-night study session."

With trembling hands, he reached for his invisibility cloak, hidden not far away. The soft fabric slid over his skin like a lover's caress, fueling his anticipation. Donning the cloak, Harry vanished from sight, leaving only a gentle rustle of fabric in his wake. He crept out of the dormitory, every fiber of his being focused on Romilda. The castle's cold stone floors beneath his feet did little to cool the fire that burned within him.

As he walked stealthily, thoughts of her reigned in his mind. Her coy smile, her playful freckles… her figure. The mandatory robes and garments from the school were usually a teenage boy’s enemy, but as Harry began to recall, Romilda always looked more than splendid. The way her school uniform hugged her body, flowy in some spots yet restrictive in all the right places. Back then, Harry played dumb, but he did notice how the curve of her butt made her skirt slightly shorter, or how her breasts defined the front of her shirt.

Another thing that he chose to ignore at the time, but now couldn’t keep out of his mind was all the signs Romilda had thrown his way. The lingering looks, the hearty laughs. Even those times where she deliberately went up the stairs in front of him, giving him a front row seat to watch her backside as her hips swayed with each step.

The castle's corridors seemed to stretch on forever, winding and dimly lit by the flickering torches. Harry's heart pounded in his chest like a wild animal as he looked for his prey. His breathing was labored, his eyes focused.

"Romilda," he whispered into the darkness, her name a salve to his aching soul. "I’m coming for you."

He couldn't help but be consumed by thoughts of her, the way her dark curls framed her face, her eyes sparking like embers in the firelight. Each memory of Romilda fanned the flames of his yearning, leaving him hungry for her touch.

"Damn it, focus, Potter," he chided himself, realizing he'd nearly missed a turn that would have taken him far from the library. With renewed purpose, he pressed on.

"Who's there?" a familiar voice called out suddenly, stopping Harry dead in his tracks. He held his breath, his heart leaping into his throat.

Professor McGonagall stood in the middle of the passageway, lamp in one hand and wand in the other. Harry remained still, not moving a muscle. The older woman inspected her surroundings with caution. After not detecting anything, she calmed down and whispered, "Must've been my imagination." After that, she carried on with her patrol down a separate hallway.

Harry exhaled slowly, cursing his carelessness. If she had caught him, his quest to find Romilda would have ended before it even began.

Too close, he thought to himself, forcing his limbs back into motion. I need to be more vigilant.

As he neared the library, the scent of old parchment and leather-bound books wafted through the air, a subtle reminder of the countless secrets these walls had borne witness to throughout the centuries. It was fitting, then, that tonight would hold yet another secret – one he and Romilda would share, their connection forged in the shadows of these hallowed halls.

Almost there, Harry thought, his pulse quickening. Soon, she'll know how much I need her.

With every step closer to the library, the thrumming of his heart grew louder, drowning out all other sounds. He could almost taste the intoxicating mix of power and vulnerability that awaited him just beyond the door.

When the heavy oak doors finally swung open before him, revealing the dimly lit room where Romilda sat, he stepped in with resolve.

"Romilda," he whispered under his breath, "I'm here."