#wrackspurtsinmyhead

[littlestarabove]

One Master of Death

➼ pairing: Harry Potter x reader

➼ summary: This drabble illustrates your years with Harry and his friends all leading up to the present… and what a dark present it is.

➼ word count: 13.9k (this is too long to be considered a drabble… oops)

➼ what to expect: “I would say something witty… but my mind is blank.”

➼ additional warnings: angst, character death, deathly hallows part 1 spoilers, almost graphic injuries (if you squint, i don’t like blood either)

➼ talk to my characters!

➼ IF YOU HAVE SEEN THIS SOMEWHERE ELSE, it was posted to a different blog, also owned by ME, so it's still my original work

You never thought it would come to this.

Things didn’t turn out the way you expected them to, and certainly didn’t fall in line with your previous years at Hogwarts had gone.

All your life, being a witch had been a dream. Magic was absolutely fascinating to you. When you received your invitation to join Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you weren’t shocked, scared, or even nervous. You were ecstatic. You’d always known there was magical presence within your life, though your Muggle parents always chalked it up to your over-active imagination. You couldn’t find any other way to explain the strange occurrences when you were sad, angry, scared, or even happy. Objects levitated, valuables shattered, and other unexplainable things happened with your emotions that not even the best doctors could understand.

You could finally tell your family “I told you so,” when your letter came in the mail- well, rather by screech owl. Next thing you knew, after converting all of your allowance to galleons, you were on your way to Diagon Alley.

Now, this place was your dream. Every where you looked, magic inhabited every nook and cranny. You didn’t even know where to start. Of course, you had your list of school supplies, but you weren’t paying it any mind as your head ran ramped with thoughts about where to begin. You hadn’t even arrived at Hogwarts and you were planning out the next seven years of your academic career with extreme detail.

You were wandering aimlessly when you saw her- through the musty window The Magical Menagerie inside of a golden cage- your future companion and confidant. She was the most majestic creature you’d ever seen, and you wanted nothing more than for her to be yours.

You walked out of The Magical Menagerie with your very own screech owl, who you later decided to call Maggie. There was no particular reasoning as to why you picked that name- it just seemed fitting.

Your wand ceremony was probably something you would remember for the remainder of your life. It was one of the most magical and ethereal events you’d experienced in your entire life. The wand that settled on you was made of reed wood, 15 inches long, with a core of dragon heartstring. Mr. Ollivander specified that you were destined for a dramatic, adventured-filled life, but also warned you of the dangers that lied ahead of you.

Whatever that meant. You didn’t take him seriously. You were 11.

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You want to say you met Hermione Granger due to the fact that you’re both amazing people adept with social skills and the ability to integrate with other witches and wizards, but that would be a big, fat lie.

You met her when you both stayed in the library after hours, which resulted in the two of you being locked in for the night until someone came to open it up in the early hours of the morning.

Which wasn’t for a long time.

It was your second year at Hogwarts, and this mistake was understandable… for a first year. Had you been 11, you wouldn’t have been so hard on yourself. But, no, you were at the grand age of 12 years old, you should know better.

That’s what your tween brain thought, at least. You used to look back on this memory with Hermione and laugh.

Speak of the devil, this is how you got to know the brilliant witch, through forced socialization behind the locked doors of the dimly lit library.

“Guess we’re stuck here, huh?” you were the first to speak. Hermione looked up at you and nodded.

“Guess we are.” She pouted.

“I’m Y/N L/N.” You stuck your hand out for Hermione to shake, which she did, politely.

“I’m Hermione Granger.” She smiled brightly, to which you returned.

“So… how did you end up in here past closing?” you asked cautiously.

“I simply lost track of time, I was looking for something.” Hermione explained vaguely, the both of you seated hopelessly in front of the doors to the exit. You sighed deeply.

“I fell asleep on my book.” you admitted. Hermione giggled, which pulled a laugh of your own through your throat.

“The boys are never going to let me live this one down.” Hermione sighed with a hopeless grin. You tilted your head at her.

“The boys?” you questioned curiously. Hermione smiled sheepishly. “My friends, Harry and Ron. They’re going to tease me about this endlessly.” Hermione chuckled.

“Harry? As in, Harry Potter?” you questioned, to which Hermione confirmed with a nod. “I’ve seen him around, but never here.”

Hermione snorted and shook her head. “That’s because I don’t think they’ve ever set foot in the library.” she snickered.

“That’s a shame, I love it in here. It’s where I belong.” You joked, beaming.

“I practically live in here, how come I’ve never seen you before?” Hermione inquired with confusion. Your cheeks turned a dull shade of red as you ducked your head.

“I sit near the back, it’s quieter back there.” You explained nervously.

“Ah, that would be why. I sit near the front.” Hermione giggled.

Next thing you knew, the two of you were chatting and sharing life stories while playing with the cards with a pack that you had buried in one of your robe pockets.

“What are you actually doing stuck here, Hermione?” you raised an eyebrow as you adjusted your hand of cards. Hermione sighed in defeat.

“I guess I could tell you. I’m looking for a recipe for polyjuice potion.” she admitted as she scanned her remaining cards.

“Wow, that’s quite complicated, I hear. I’m impressed. What do you need it for?”

“We’re trying to figure out who the heir of Slytherin is, and we need the potion to sneak into their common room undetected.” Hermione explained thoroughly.

“Oh, that rumor with the horrid message written in blood on the wall? I thought it was all an elaborate prank, but then the professors began to worry, so I knew it was serious.” You clarified with a grimace.

“We think it’s Malfoy.” Hermione announced. You snorted. “Doesn’t everyone? Malfoy is the perfect git to be the heir to a Muggle hating wizard.” you grumbled.

Hermione laughed. “Ron and Harry would like you, you’re funny and you hate Malfoy. That’s two things they look for in a person.” Hermione joked with a hint of seriousness.

“I think I would like them as well.” you smiled with a polite undertone.

Hermione looked at her cards and groaned. “I fold.” She placed her cards face down. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I thought we were playing go-fish?”

The two of you burst into a fit a laughter. That was the night that began a lasting friendship between two extraordinary witches.

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“Hermione, why are we in such a rush?” Ron whined as he struggled to keep up with her fast pace. Hermione huffed.

“I’ve got a friend keeping the book we need safe. We’re already late meeting her there.” Hermione explained in exasperation.

The trio burst through the doors to the library and Hermione began to scan the crowd when she remembered something important.

“She sits near the back, come on.” Hermione waved urgently as she began her path to the back of the library.

She peeked into every row with the hope of finding you sitting alone with the book you’d promised to find in your free time. Much to Hermione’s surprise, you weren’t as close to the back as she had originally thought. She found you in no time.

“There you are! I was beginning to worry.” You noticed them as they came barreling down towards you, all with heavy breathing.

“Sorry. Lost track of time.” Hermione apologized. You shook your head.

“No worries. I’ve got the book here.” You shook the book in your hand to indicate your findings.

Harry and Ron stood utterly confused behind Hermione as she took a seat without hesitation.

“Who are you?” Ron asked quite bluntly. Hermione groaned.

“Must you be so direct?” Hermione gestured to you. “Harry, Ron, this is Y/N. Y/N, this Harry, and that’s Ron.” Hermione pointed to each boy respectively. You beamed widely at them.

“Pleasure to meet you both.” neither of them replied, only stared at you.

“Warm welcome.” you chuckled awkwardly. Hermione noticed your distress and hurried to confront the boys.

“Be polite. She’s helping us.” Hermione gestured violently for them to sit. They both did as they were told.

You tried your best to ignore the fact that Hermione might as well have promised that you would be well-liked by her friends. You chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously as you presented Hermione with the book you’d promised her.

In the dark nook, you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled around the book entitled “Moste Potente Potions.” The spotted pages were littered with disturbing illustrations.

You flipped to your book mark and dragged your finger under the sub title.

“Here it is: ’The Polyjuice Potion. Properly brewed, the Polyjuice Potion allows the drinker to transform himself temporarily into the physical form of another’…” You read directly from the text, trailing off as you reached the end of the important information.

“You mean, Harry and I drink some of this stuff and we turn into Crabbe and Goyle?” Ron leaned forward to clarify his suspicions.

“Yes.” Hermione assured. Ron beamed widely.

“Wicked! Malfoy’ll tell us anything!” Ron exclaimed excitedly.

“Exactly. But, it’s tricky. I’ve never seen a more complicated potion. Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed. And, of course, we’ll need a bit of whoever we want to change into too.” Hermione worried her bottom lip as she read over the ingredients for the overly complicated and advanced potion.

“Hang on now. I’m drinking nothing with Crabbe’s toenails in it.” Ron grumbled with a grimace.

“How long will it take to make?” Harry leaned forward over Ron’s shoulder to take a more intricate peek at the instructions.

“It looks like a month.” you scanned over the pages carefully.

“A month? But if Malfoy is the heir of Slytherin… he could attack half the Muggle-borns in the school by then.” Harry cautioned. Hermione shivered.

“As if people like us need more reason to be targeted by Malfoy.” You placed your chin in the palm of your hand with a pout.

Hermione beamed. “You’re a Muggle-born as well? I knew we were going to be great friends.”

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Harry and Ron made their exit from their library as you and Hermione remained seated to further study the potion to better learn the ins and outs.

Ron pulled Harry aside with a worried expression. “I don’t think Y/N being in our group is a good idea. We do not need another Hermione to nag us about every little thing.” Ron was practically livid. Harry shrugged.

“I dunno. I think it would be nice to have another girl around. Someone… to keep Hermione occupied.” Harry’s lie wasn’t the most clever, but he figured it was enough to throw Ron off his scent. Quite frankly, the prospect of having another girl join their group made Harry quite flustered, especially due to the fact that you’re probably one of the prettiest 12-year-olds he’d ever seen. But, of course, it didn’t take much to convince Ron otherwise.

“You’re right. That would be a big weight off our own shoulders.” Ron agreed. Harry smiled in spite of his lie.

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Third Year

Silence. A room of shadows. While those around him slumbered, Harry lied awake, unable to sleep. Finally, he turned to his cupboard, took out the Marauder’s Map, and whispered,

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The crooked corridors and serpentine passageways of Hogwarts radiated across the parchment, then… a tiny dot caught Harry’s eye. He frowned. It read: “Peter Pettigrew.”

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Harry moved down a dark corridor, map in hand, wand aglow. In the paintings he passed, the subjects snored softly.

Harry’s and Peter’s figures on the map drew closer and closer.

Harry squinted toward the end of the corridor. Down at the map. Pettigrew moved quickly down the adjoining corridor. Twenty yards away. Ten. Only seconds away…

Wand trembling in his hand, Harry glanced from the map to the dark corridor ahead, again and again. Then… as the two dots were about to collide… he looked slowly up, turned the corner, heart in his chest… and met-

You?

“Oh! Harry!” You exclaim as you nearly rammed right into Harry.

Harry blinked, startled, then glanced down at the map. Pettigrew had moved past him, but your figure stood adjacent to his. Odd, how hadn’t he noticed that before?

“Y/N. What are you doing down here?” Harry raised an eyebrow in question. You were quick to explain yourself.

“Hermione wanted to conduct some research on werewolves… can’t imagine why… but she mentioned something about it being far too late for her, so I went instead.” You gestured to all the rolls of parchment in your arms- your diligent notes.

“I was just on my way back… hold on, what are you doing up at this hour, Harry?” you redirected the conversation onto Harry. He froze.

“Um… well…” Harry glanced down at the map, flustered, and back up to you.

“Is that the Marauder’s Map? The Weasley twins mentioned that they gave it to you.” You pointed at the map in curiosity. Harry’s expression turned confused, but, yet again, you were quick to clarify.

“I was helping them set up a prank… they needed to know the precise angle a… certain bucket had to be placed at on the top of a… certain professor’s door.” you grinned sheepishly rocking on your heels. Harry smiled softly.

“I was just… looking for someone. I think the map is mistaken… says Peter Pettigrew is heading… that way.” Harry pointed in the direction he’d come from. You follow his finger.

“Pettigrew? Hermione mentioned he was dead.” You shrugged. Harry mimicked your actions.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s follow it.” you gestured in the direction that Harry had pointed to. Confused but excited, Harry turns on his heel to follow you, casting his wand along the walls.

“Watch it there, boy!”

You and Harry jumped. But it was only an old man in a painting, scowling in the glare of Harry’s wand light. On the map, Pettigrew continued to move away. Harry made to follow, with you in tow, then stopped, hearing footsteps. The wand’s spot danced across the parchment, and found another dot. Approaching fast: Severus Snape.

“Put it away!” You hissed urgently. Harry fumbled to put the tip of his wand on the map. “Mischief managed!” He stashed the map away, extinguishing his wand, and turned… into the harsh glare of Snape’s wand.

“Potter.” Snape sneered. Snape moved his wand slightly to the left and illuminated you, grinning sheepishly.

“L/N.” He grumbled.

“What’re you two doing wandering the corridors at night?” Snape questioned.

“We were… we were sleepwalking…”

A sneer curdled the corner of Snape’s lips.

“How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter. He, too, was exceedingly arrogant. Strutting about the castle-”

“My dad didn’t strut. Nor do I. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you lowering your wand.” Harry straightened and nodded towards Snape’s wand, aimed directly to his face and nearly blinding him.

Snape eyed Harry coldly, containing himself. He lowered his wand.

“Turn out… your pockets, the both of you.” Snape demanded.

You nor Harry moved, Harry’s eyes still boring into Snape.

“Turn out your pockets!”

Finally, the both of you obliged. You turned up with nothing but your scrolls. But, seeing the map, Snape’s eyes glittered.

“And this. What might it be?” He asked.

“Spare bit of parchment…” You came up with hastily. Your mind worked quickly when it came to confrontation, it was one of your skills.

“Really…” Snape poised his wand over the map. “Reveal your secrets!”

To both of your horror, words began to appear. Snape studied you both, a sadistic half-smile on his lips. He turned the map your way.

“Read it.” Snape ordered.

“Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs… offer their compliments to Professor Snape… and…” Harry glanced up at professor Snape after reading the rest, unsure.

“Go on.” Snape urged. You leaned over Harry’s shoulder and snorted.

“And request that he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.” You snickered, your eyes locked with Snape’s.

Snape’s smile drooped. “Why you insolent little-”

“Professor?”

Snape turned to see Professor Lupin standing in the shadows.

“Well, well. Lupin. Out for a little walk in the moonlight, are we?” Snape sneered.

“Harry? Y/N? You all right?”

“That remains to be seen. I’ve just now confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter and Miss L/N. Take a look, Lupin. This is supposed to be your area of expertise.” Snape snatched the parchment from Harry’s grip and presented it to Lupin. Lupin took the parchment, which now displayed a rather unflattering caricature of Snape and a pair of potions.

“Clearly, it’s full of dark magic.” Snape continued.

“I seriously doubt that, Severus. it looks to me as if it merely insults anyone who tries to read it. It suspect it’s a Zonko product. Nevertheless, I shall pursue any hidden qualities it may possess. As you say, it’s my area of expertise. Come, Harry, Y/N.”

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The two of you walked aside a fuming Lupin, who gripped the map fiercely.

“I don’t know how this map came to be in your possessions, Harry, Y/N, but I’m astounded that you didn’t turn it in immediately. Especially you, Miss L/N. For all that time you spend with Granger, I would have expected her behavior to rub off on you in some way.” Lupin fumed. You hung your head. Lupin directed his next comment to Harry.

“Harry, did you ever stop to think that this- in the hands of Sirius Black- is a map to-”

Lupin stops when he realizes that he and Harry were not alone, and stops himself from going any further. Harry waved his hands in defense. “Don’t worry, Professor… she knows… about Sirius.” Harry was referring to the information Hermione had entrusted you with recently- About Harry’s relation to Sirius and the plot against him.

You nodded in confirmation. Lupin sighed with an expression of relief.

“A map to you?” he finished. Harry walked alongside silently, you hot on his heels. Lupin could barely contain his anger.

“Your father didn’t set much store by rules either. But he and your mother did give their lives to save yours. Gambling their sacrifice by walking about the castle unprotected, with a killer on the loose, strikes me as a poor way to repay them. I won’t cover for you again, Harry.”

Lupin entered his office, tossed the map on his desk, and began to sort through some papers. You and Harry lingered briefly in the doorway. You absently eyed the waxing moon that glimmered beyond the window, then stared to turn away.

“Professor. Just so you know, I don’t think the map always works. Earlier, it showed someone in the castle. Someone I know to be dead.” You directed your attention to Lupin, away from the moon.

“And who was that, Y/N?��� He was only half-listening.

“Peter Pettigrew.” Harry finished.

Lupin hesitated ever-so-slightly, then returned to his papers.

“Very well. I’d like you to return to your dormitories now. Oh, and don’t take any detours.”

As you and Harry looked back, Lupin tapped the map. “If you do, I’ll know.” Lupin smirked slightly.

You and Harry rounded the corner and set on the path back to the Gryffindor common room.

The moment you’re out of sight of Lupin’s office, your burst into a fit of giggles, catching Harry by surprise.

“That was amazing. When you spend all of your time with Hermione, you never almost get caught like that! Oh, it was exhilarating.” you sighed happily, turning to Harry.

“I… never would have thought that you liked things of the sort.” Harry nervously scratched the nape of his neck as the two of you neared the common room.

“There’s a lot you’ll have to learn about me, Harry. I’ll see you later?” You murmured the password to the common room and stepped inside, Harry not far behind. You moved to disappear up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories when Harry stopped you.

“Have breakfast with us tomorrow.” he blurted. It was enough to stop you in your tracks and to make you turn to face him.

“Hm. I suppose I could. I’ll see you there, Potter.” you disappeared around the staircase.

Harry smiled to himself, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest as he stared off in the direction you disappeared in.

Oh dear, was he in trouble now.

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Fourth Year

It was almost as if your fourth year (so far) had gone by in a blur. You arrived at school, got a new, suspiciously shady professor, and all of a sudden, Harry as a contestant in the infamous Triwizard Tournament. You were worried because of what the tournament was infamous for- severe injury and competition to the death.

You, Hermione, Ron, and Harry were sat in the Great Hall, scowling at the latest addition of the Daily Prophet. Hermione had been made out to look like she was after two famous wizards- Viktor Krum and Harry. She was livid, but you all managed to distract her for a limited period of time.

“Parcel for you, Mr. Weasley.” a small boy approached the table and presented Ron with a particularly large parcel.

“Ah, thank you, Nigel.”

The boy stared in jittery awe at Harry.

“Not now, Nigel.” Ron urged Nigel off.

As Nigel stumbled off, you, Harry, and Hermione eyed Ron. He shrugged.

“I told him I’d get him Harry’s autograph. Hey look. Mum’s sent me something… Mum’s sent me a dress.”

Harry watched Ron lift a lace-trimmed gown from the box.

“Does match your eyes. Is there a bonnet? Ah- hah!” Harry pulled a matching little collar from the box and tossed it at Ron. You giggled from beside Harry, not-so-subtly drinking a sip of pumpkin juice to hide it.

“Nose down, Harry.” Ron grumbled. He moved to Ginny hopefully. “Hey, Ginny. This must be for you.”

Ginny grimaced at the manky old thing. “I’m not wearing that. It’s ghastly.” She gasped as she laid eyes on it.

Hermione, back of her hand pressed to her mouth, suppressed a laugh.

“What are you on about?” Ron grumbled.

“They’re not for Ginny. They’re for you. Dress robes.” Hermione clarified with a smile.

“Dress robes? For what?” Ron panicked.

Professor McGonagall seemed to appear out of no where, making herself known by answering Ron’s question. “The Yule Ball. Which, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to you about, Potter.”

Harry nodded as he let McGonagall pull him off to the side to speak to him privately.

“The Yule Ball, Professor?” Harry questioned as they were out of earshot from his friends.

“It’s traditional during the Triwizard Tournament for the host school to put on a Christmas ball. It is also traditional for the three Champions- or in this case four- to be the first to dance.”

Harry cocked his head, as if he had water in his ear.

“Dance? With a girl?” His voice shook slightly with the question.

“Traditionally with a young lady, yes. Why don’t you take…” McGonagall searched the area where Harry’s friends sat for a suitable date. Her eyes settled on you and she smiled.

“Miss L/N? You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with her, recently. And she’s a lovely girl. A lot like your friend, Miss Granger.” McGonagall beamed as she gestured to you.

Harry followed her line of sight as his eyes settled on you as well. You sat in your seat quietly, sipping absentmindedly on your goblet of pumpkin juice as you watch Hermione and Ron converse heatedly about the condition of his ancient dress robes.

You open your mouth and make some kind of remark, which Harry can’t hear, but it caused Hermione to laugh whole-heartedly, which Ron soon joined in reluctantly, and even Ginny snickered to herself.

Harry beamed unconsciously. “She is lovely, isn’t she?” He sighed. McGonagall’s smile widened but Harry quickly caught himself.

“Oh, um, I mean, I could… ask Y/N. As friends, of course.” He added hastily. McGonagall’s smile slightly faltered but she continued nonetheless.

“I leave that decision up to you, Potter. But know this: the House of Godric Gryffindor has a reputation as long as it is illustrious. It demands and receives the respect of the entire wizard world. No house has produced more witches and wizards of consequence. You stand upon the shoulders of giants, Potter. Shame yourself and you shame all who came before you.”

Just then, a commotion was heard. Turning, McGonagall watched Seamus pelt Dean Thomas with a custard pie.

McGonagall’s face dropped.

So much for honoring the house of Gryffindor.

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The entire rank and file of Godric Gryffindor’s current roster- girls on one side, boys on the other, stood before a fierce McGonagall in what you could only conclude as some sort of dance class.

“You have to get a grip! Your behavior barely rises to the level of the common toadstool! I WILL NOT HAVE IT!”

The students exchanged nervous glances.

“Now. To dance is to let the body…” McGonagall took a deep breath as demonstration, “… breathe. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst free and take flight. Inside each boy, a lordly lion, prepared to prance.” McGonagall illustrated.

“Something may be about to burst out of Eloise Midgen, but I don’t think it’s a swan.” Ron snickered.

“Mr. Weasley.”

“Yes?” Ron jumped and yelled his response, surprised to have been caught.

“Would you join me, please?” McGonagall glared intensely.

Ron glanced about in a panic, then slumped forward like a man heading to the gallows.

“Now then, if you will, put your left hand on my waist…”

“Where?!”

“My waist, Mr. Weasley.”

Grudgingly, Ron obeyed. As Fred and George whistle, Ron raised his right hand in a rude rejoinder when McGonagall closed her hand over his just in the nick of time.

“That’s right, extend your arm… and, Mr. Filch, if you would…”

Filch dropped the needle onto an old record player and a musty waltz filled the courtyard. Instantly, Neville smiled, bobbing his head, as if transported by the music.

“And one and two…” McGonagall kept the tempo skillfully.

“Oi!” Harry leaned back to Fred and George, who leaned forward to accommodate his height.

“Never going to let him forget this, are you?” Harry grinned. Fred and George shook their heads.

“Never. ” They replied incredibly in sync.

“Everyone! Come together…” McGonagall urged as she continued her waltz with a reluctant Ron.

The music swelled as the girls and boys nervously crossed the divide and began to pair off.

You shuffled anxiously through the crowd, watching as it seemed that every girl had a partner save for you.

You could feel your anxiety begin to spike and your self-esteem drop to an all-time low when-

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing over here all alone?”

You spun around quickly at the familiar voice and found the teasing face of Harry Potter standing before you. You sighed in relief.

“Oh, um… just observing, I guess.” You replied unconvincingly.

“Don’t observe. Come dance. I need practice.” Harry took your hand and led you to the floor.

Harry placed his his over your rib-cage while you placed your hands on his shoulder and in his other hand. You giggled.

“Harry, your hand goes on my waist, dear.” you mimicked McGonagall the best you could. Harry snorted with a faint flush dusting the apples of his cheeks in the most flattering way.

“I know.” He scoffed. You rolled your eyes and removed your hand from his shoulder to encase it over his wrist and pushed it down on to your lower waist.

“You do need practice, Potter.” you moved your feet according to the music as Harry clumsily attempted to mimic you. He did end up stepping quite harshly on your toes, however.

“Ow!” You gasped, removing your hands from him to hop on one foot.

“Sorry! I’m just… extremely uncoordinated.” Harry groaned at himself. You dusted off your now unpolished uniform shoe and waved him off assuringly.

“That’s what this class is for. Just follow my lead.” You nodded down to your feet and Harry followed your eyes.

“One, two, three… one, two, three…” You began softly as you moved slowly to accommodate Harry’s speed.

“How do you know so much about dancing?” Harry asked without taking his eyes from both of your feet.

“My parents are Muggles, I attended cotillion as a child.” you reminded with a smile. Harry looked up at you, realizing your faces were in very close proximity.

“Well… um… lucky me, I guess.” He chucked nervously. You beamed brightly at him, resulting in his heart jumping into his throat and being unable to keep himself quiet.

“Would you teach me how to dance?” He blurted instinctively. Your mind blanked for a moment as you were making sure you heard him correctly.

“I just… McGonagall told me not to embarrass Gryffindor and I thought that I should take some lessons from someone with dancing experience…” Harry avoided eye contact with you. Your heart sank into your stomach. Why on earth did you think he was going to ask you to be his date? You’re only friends.

“Oh, um… right, yeah. Sure. I’ll teach you a few things.” You tried to keep your voice from shaking, but the disappointment was clearly present.

Harry grinned half-heartedly. “Great.”

If only the both of you knew how much the other’s heart was sinking down into the depths of hopelessness.

You were beginning to think Gryffindor, known for courage, was not the house for you. You wondered what was going through the sorting hat’s mind when he placed you.

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After a few days of unsuccessfully acquiring a Yule Ball date, Harry made his way to the Owlery, which stood like a stranded scarecrow in a sea of white. Suddenly, an owl fluttered forth and Harry halted. Footsteps sounded and a figure descended the Owlery’s snow-laden stairs, flickering in and our of view. Seconds later, a girl appeared.

Cho.

“Harry.” Cho acknowledged.

“Cho.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment. Cho gestured all around. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She questioned quietly. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, splendid.” he replied.

He glanced away, face hidden from Cho, and grimaced, mouthing ‘splendid’ in miserable mortification.

“Well, watch yourself on the stairs. A bit icy at the top.” Cho informed bashfully as she intended to make her leave.

“Okay. Thanks.” But as she smiled and turned, Harry pressed further. “Cho!”

He said this so forcefully, she nearly stumbled stopping. “Yes?”

“I just wondered if, maybe, you… wannagoballwime?”

“Sorry… I didn’t catch that?”

Harry collected himself with a deep inhale and repeated his question, “I wondered if you’d like to… to… go to the ball with me?”

Cho’s face fell grimly. “Oh. Harry. I’m sorry. But someone’s already asked me and I’ve said I’ll go. With him.”

“Oh. Well, good. I mean… okay. No problem.” Harry looked away, flexing his fingers within his mittens. Cho chewed her lip, frowning, then turned away. As she went, Harry exhaled, shaking his head, when-

“Harry?”

He looked up and saw her staring him straight in the eye.

“I really am… sorry.” She turned then, and Harry watched her dash back toward the distant castle, filling his footprints with her own.

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“Hermione! You’ll never believe what happened!” you rushed quickly to Hermione’s side the moment you entered the common room and found her in one of the comfortable arm chairs. She silently urged you to finish your statement.

“Dean Thomas asked me to the ball.” You bit your lip in excitement and Hermione beamed. “Congratulations! I knew you’d find a date in no time.” Hermione grinned.

From a distance, Harry could hear every word. His heart sank into his stomach. You were plan A, of course, but plan B ended up unfolding before he could stop himself. Now you weren’t a plan at all.

Suddenly, Ron tripped through the portrait hole, staggered across the room, and collapsed into a chair. He looked shell-shocked. Ginny, who’d accompanied him, fought hard to suppress a smile.

“What happened to you?” Harry asked curiously.

“He’s just asked out Fleur Delacour.” Ginny answered quickly.

“What?!”

“What’s she say?” Harry added before Hermione’s shock could be voiced further.

“No, of course.” Hermione guessed. But, in a pleat of doubt, “She did say no…?”

Ron shook his head.

“She said yes?!”

“Of course not! I don’t know what got into me. There she was… walking by… you know how I like it when they walk… and I couldn’t help it… it just sort of… slipped out.”

“Actually, he sort of screamed at her. It was a bit frightening.” Ginny grimaced.

“So what’d you do then?” Harry pushed.

“What else? I ran for it. I’m not cut out for this, Harry.” Ron groaned tiredly.

As they were all conversing, the Patil twins strode by, arm in arm with each other. They each glance at each other and in unison, “Hi Harry.” and they were gone as quickly as they had appeared.

Harry murmurs a half-hearted greeting before doing a double take in the direction they’d strode off in.

“Don’t worry. I think I’ve got an idea…”

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“Hello, boys.” The Patil twins greeted in unison.

Parvati and Padma, doubly delightful in shocking pink and bright turquoise respectively, waited below for their dates.

“Don’t you look… dashing.” Parvati’s eyes raked over Ron’s robes as she took Harry’s arm. Padma stared in open horror. Just then, McGonagall appeared, looking a bit flustered.

“There you are, Potter!” McGonagall called as she urgently made her way through the crowd to Harry and Ron.

“You and Miss Patil will wait here and enter with the other champions. Weasley…” she faltered, goggling at Ron’s robes, then collected herself.

“… you and Miss Patil may proceed inside, to the Great Hall.” she ushered them to the entrance.

“C'mon then.” As Ron dragged Padma off, she looked back desperately to her sister. Parvati just shook her head.

“We have a cousin who dresses like that.”

Just then, a gust of win stirred in the air and the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students filed inside. As Fleur Delacour appeared, her silk wrap flew free, fluttering like a dove into the air, leading Harry’s eye to… Cho, who arrived hand in hand with Cedric Diggory.

“Omigod. She looks… Beautiful.” Parvati mumbled in disbelief.

Harry nodded glumly, staring at Cho, then realized Parvati was looking not at Cho, but a girl in blue robes.

Her hair was twisted in an elegant but messy knot with glittering butterfly barrettes littered amongst her locks to enhance the mystical facade, swan’s neck shining. She was simply ethereal. She was…

You.

“I know I’m late! Couldn’t figure out the button on the back of my dress.” You turned to demonstrate the intricate backing of your dress.

Harry remained speechless as you turned back around to face him with a wide smile. “You look handsome, my friend.” You slightly played with the collar of his dress robe, but Harry still didn’t utter a word.

“Close your mouth, Harry. We’re not a codfish.” You quoted one of your favorite Disney movies.

When he still didn’t reply, your teasing smile faltered for a worried expression. “Seriously, Harry. What’s wrong? Is my makeup smudged?” you patted your face to ensure that nothing was wrong.

“Oh! Nothing’s wrong… you just look…” Harry was quite unable to finish his sentence and you frowned.

“Is it that bad?” You looked down at your dress with your heart thumping in your chest.

“No, not at all. Quite the opposite actually… you’re stunning.” Harry’s eyes scanned you up and down. The smile returned to your features.

“Thank you… Hermione helped, of course.” You giggled bashfully.

“Well… erm, Dean is.. waiting for me so… I better go. I’m sure you’ll be expected to dance first.” You chewed the inside of your cheek anxiously, and Harry nodded.

“Right, yeah, you go. Have fun. I’ll see you later.” Harry’s arm was taken by Parvati. You nodded as well.

“See you.” You turned to disappear into the crowd to find your date. Harry watched you go longingly. Parvati smiled to herself, but said nothing nonetheless.

A path of light spilled from the Entrance Hall, revealing a darkened hall glimmering with icicles and mistletoe. The house tables had vanished, replaced by dozens of smaller ones, each glowing with lantern light around a central dance floor. Flitwick conducted a string quartet.

As the champions entered, applause arose. Fleur led the way, on the arms of a stunned-looking Ravenclaw boy (Roger Davies), while Harry and Parvati entered last, Parvati waving like a beauty queen. Harry scanned the room for Ron and found him, staring open-mouthed at Hermione as she passed with Krum.

“Is that Hermione Granger? With Viktor Krum?” Padma Patil was in shock.

“No. Absolutely not.” Ron denied with the curt shake of his head.

As the champions reached the dance floor, Flitwick’s baton froze in mid-air- bringing the hall to a hush.

“Take my waist.” Parvati urged forcefully when Harry didn’t move.

“Huh? Oh… right.” Harry places his hand on her waist and took her hand when Flitwick’s baton dropped and the waltz began.

“Go. Now!”

More out of fear than anything else, Harry took a step and then another. The music swelled. Fleur swept past, rigid as a queen. Next was Cho, dark eyes glimmering as they briefly met Harry’s own. Finally, Hermione- adrift in Krum’s strong arms- shot Harry a goofy, excited grin.

Dumbledore led McGonagall from the Tall Table and, with a short bow, swept her onto the floor, where they danced formally, beautifully. Quickly, the remainder of the staff paired off and joined them. Even Madame Maxime yielded to Hagrid and his horrible suit, though she casted her eyes askance while in his arms. Only Moody remained on the sidelines, eye whirling madly in time to the waltz.

Finally, the students converged, led by Neville, who glided like Astaire, much to the astonishment of his date- Ginny Weasley. Lost in the crush, Harry felt less self-conscious about his own clumsy feet and actually managed to smile.

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Later in the evening, a jagged razor burn of guitars, courtesy of the Weird Sisters, shattered the calm as the dance floor was now a mosh pit, hopping with bodies.

Fred’s hand reached up and snapped off one of the icicles and slipped it down the back of Angelina’s robes and she squealed, darting after him, passing Hermione and Krum. Hermione yelled above the din.

“Her-my-oh-nee!”

“Herm… own… ninny?”

She started to correct him, then shrugged. “Close enough.”

Harry and Ron sat watching grimly from the sidelines, while Padma and Parvati sat on opposite sides of them, arms crossed in aggravation. Ron eyed Krum lethally.

“Ruddy pumpkinhead, isn’t he?” he grumbled.

Harry’s eyes shifted from yours and Dean’s gyrating figures.

“Well, I don’t think it was the books that had him going to the library.”

A handsome Durmstrang boy approached Parvati, who looked ready to put a gun to her head.

“May I haff your arm?”

“Arm. Leg. I’m yours.” Parvati exited eagerly, following the boy at his heels.

Harry watched as Hermione pulled you from the crowd and your date, both with beautiful smiles as you approached the boys. Hermione dropped into Parvati’s vacant chair, flush from dancing. You stood awfully close to Harry, causing him to tense.

“Whew! Hot, isn’t it? Viktor and Dean have gone to get drinks. Care to join us?” Hermione asked cheerfully.

“No, we would not care to join you and… Viktor.” Ron spat his name like venom, and Hermione’s smile disappeared along with your own.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Hermione seemed offended.

“He’s from Durmstrang! You’re fraternizing with the enemy!” Ron accused loudly. You scoffed.

“The enemy? Who was it wanting his autograph? Besides, the whole point of the Tournament is international magical cooperation. To make friends.” Hermione clarified angrily.

“I think he’s got a bit more than friendship in mind.” Ron grumbled to himself. Your mouth dropped open.

“What are you suggesting?” your voice had dropped an octave, indicating your aggravation.

Harry spun around to face you, and instead of voicing his jealousy, voiced his frustration.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? With Dean as well. You’re friends with Margaret Stone, aren’t you? That’s who Dean’s really after. Heard him talking about it the other day.” Harry huffed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms.

It wasn’t a total lie; Harry had heard Dean talking about Margaret Stone, but it wasn’t the other day. It was about a year ago.

You stood taken aback by Harry’s words. Not once had you heard him speak in this tone of voice, especially to you.

“W-… what do you mean?” You could feel your voice wavering as Hermione looked up at you.

“Y/N. He doesn’t mean it.” She urged. Harry stood.

“Well, of course I meant it! You’re easy enough to go out with and get closer to Stone without a second glance from anyone. Thought you were smarter than that. Aren’t you supposed to be like Hermione?” Harry’s arms remained crossed as he glared at you with fury.

But he quickly regretted his words when he watched as your eyes welled up with tears, threatening to spill over as you bit your bottom lip to keep from quivering.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Dean with two drinks in hand, looking confused between you and Harry. “What’s going on?”

You choked on a sob that threatened to rip through your throat and dashed off, brushing past Dean on your way. Hermione glared at both Ron and Harry before jumping up to chase after you. “Y/N! That’s not true!” She called after you.

Dean spared Harry and confused glance before turning off in the same direction to follow you.

“Are you going to ask me to dance or not?” Padma asked Ron as she sulked.

“No.”

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As Ron and Harry exited, after the fiasco with Hermione, Ron broke off by himself in a rage. Harry found himself alone, Parvati no where to be found, not that he cared at all where she was.

He rounded the corner out of the Great Hall and found you, leaning against a wall and dabbing under your eyes so as to keep your tears from ruining your makeup.

The two of you make eye contact and you froze.

“Y/N-”

“No, don’t touch me.” you jerked away from his grip like you’d been burnt with a ragged breath, avoiding eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. I didn’t mean it like that…” Harry began slowly, gauging your reaction.

“Harry, you humiliated me in front of Ron and his date, your date, and Hermione, and might as well have embarrassed me in front of Dean.” You moved to cover your face with your hand to hide your expression.

Though Harry knows what he’d done, the thought still made his heart wrench. He’d made you cry, and he never wanted to be the cause of that, not now, not ever.

“That’s… not what I meant to do.” Harry sighed in spite of himself.

You looked away from dabbing under your eyes and up at Harry, watching as his face filled with genuine concern.

“What did you mean, then?” you sniffled, averting your eyes to the ground as you gripped your heels in your hand.

Harry was taken aback at your question. You were giving him a chance to explain himself. He wasn’t daft enough to waste this opportunity.

“I was just frustrated, and I wanted to look out for you… I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Harry’s shoulders slouched as he began to explain himself. You slowly gained the courage to glance up at him as he spoke.

You exhaled deeply, “Dean was overrated, anyway…” you sniffled again, a small smile spreading across your face.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. You sighed exaggeratedly and threw yourself at Harry and wrapped your arms around his neck, your cheek pressed against his shoulder.

Harry grunted and stumbled back from the impact, his arms wrapping themselves around your form. He let out a breath he didn’t know had been stuck in his throat at your action, but smiled nonetheless.

“This whole night has been a disaster. Take me home, Harry.” you buried your face into his robe as you let your eyes relax and your tired brain rest.

“Oh, um, okay…” Harry gave a brief stroke to your slightly more messy, but still gracefully decorated hair.

“But you’ve gotta help me out, here.” Harry chuckled as he attempted to lift you. You groaned and secured your arms more tightly around his neck and jumped, allowing Harry’s arm to fold under your legs and hoist you up, bridal style.

He managed to bring you the rest of the way to the common room, but you somehow managed to fall asleep on the journey. Harry chuckled to himself when he noticed you’d gone limp and your jaw had fallen slack.

Through that disaster of a night, Harry learned that all friends fight, but the ones who stayed true were the ones that persisted.

He only hoped that his friendship with you would be a result of persistence.

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Fifth Year

Harry quietly dismissed the weekly gathering of Dumbledore’s Army for the Christmas holiday. The progress they’d made was impeccable, incredible, and some might dare say, unfathomable.

Though, the tragic death of Cedric Diggory in the past year at Hogwarts had taken a tole on every student, especially one student in particular; Cho Chang.

She remained in the classroom, staring longingly at a cut-out clipping of Cedric’s portrait when he’d participated in the Triwizard Tournament that was taped to a musty mirror.

Harry approached her from behind, cautious so as to not startle her.

“Are you alright?” He asked carefully, keeping his voice as level as he could.

“I heard Umbridge gave you a rough time the other day.” He continued when he knew he had her attention.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Cho glanced down at her scaring hand, matching many other trouble makers in the school.

“Anyways, it was worth it.” Her gaze returned to Cedric’s, the moving picture smiled back at them as if it knew they were watching it.

“It’s just… it’s just, learning all this… makes me wonder, whether he’d known it.” Cho observed the room carefully with a longing expression. Harry was quick to assure her.

“Cedric- Cedric did know this stuff. He was really good. It’s just… Voldemort was better.” Harry decided on.

Cho cast her eyes down to the floor, then back up at Harry. “You’re a really good teacher, Harry.” In response, Harry smiled shortly.

“I’ve never been able to stun anything before.” Cho grinned cheekily

A faint rustling came from above the two, causing Cho to look up curiously. What she spotted was mistletoe, curiously growing from the ceiling above them with haste.

“Mistletoe.” Cho whispered quietly. Harry was still fascinated by the plant’s growth above them.

His eyes returned to Cho’s face, but couldn’t think of anything worth saying. “Probably full of Nargles, though.” He blurted.

“What are Nargles?” Cho asked with confusion. Harry shrugged.

“No idea.” They wasted no more time and brought themselves together to seal the silence in a tender kiss. Harry’s first, it happened to be.

“Sorry to barge in, but I forgot my-”

You stopped dead in your tracks when you found the couple snogging in the middle of the practice room. You found yourself speechless as your heart shattered into thousands of pieces at the sight.

Harry and Cho separated immediately when they both acknowledged your presence. “Oh… Y/N.” Harry scratched the nape of his neck and avoided eye contact with you.

“Dear Merlin, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” you were quick in putting up a facade of nonchalance as you frantically searched for the tie you’d recently shed when practicing spells with the group.

“It’s alright… no harm done.” Harry threw a worried glance in Cho’s direction as you find your tie.

“This was all I came for. Again, I apologize for the disturbance- I’ll be going now- Oh!” in your haste to back away, you’d knocked yourself into the wall near the entrance. You laughed nervously and rubbed the back of your head to soothe it.

“My bad, wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m leaving now.” You spun around on your heel and rounded the corner quickly, sprinting down the hallway and back to the common room as quickly as you could carry yourself.

As both Harry and Cho watched you disappear, Harry let out a long sigh. Cho turned to him. “Was that Y/N L/N?” she asked curiously. As Harry began to pack his things, he nodded.

“Yeah… it was.” Harry nodded towards the entrance as he stowed his wand away. Cho nodded grimly.

“She seemed upset.” Cho acknowledged as she watched Harry move about the room.

“Did she?” Harry questioned. Although, he had noticed your odd behavior but thought nothing of it.

“Yes, quite jealous, actually.” Cho hummed in thought.

Harry pondered that a moment. Jealous? You? Of him? Impossible.

“Yeah, right.” Harry scoffed. Though he didn’t mean anything by it, of course.

“I always thought you liked her.” Cho carefully worded her statement as she watched Harry’s back tense.

“I guess.” Harry shrugged shortly. His tone was becoming curt and short.

“Then… why are you here with me? Not going after her?” Cho gestures to the entrance to the classroom. Harry follows her gesture with his eyes and contemplated this a moment.

The next thing he knew, he’d thrown his bag over his shoulder and quickly departed with a “thank you” thrown in Cho’s direction as he hurried away.

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Sixth Year

Harry peered through ripples of an imperfect windowpane in the Weasley’s Burrow, studying the others down below. A floorboard creaked. He turned and watched you emerge into the light, in a robe, twisting your wet hair into a towel.

“Everyone gone to bed?” You asked nonchalantly as you approached Harry.

“Soon.” Harry nodded.

“I don’t sleep these days. So I wash my hair. Silly, right?” you giggled at yourself, folding the towel over your arm

Harry just stared at you, the air prickling with silence. You eyed him knowingly.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” You grinned sweetly.

Down below, Lupin continued to peer into the reeds. His pupils contracted.

“Sweetheart…” Tonks approached him.

“There’s someone out there. I can smell him. There’s more than one-”

“Suddenly, throughout the reeds, torches blazed.

Back on the second floor, the rippled window behind Harry blushed with light. Your eyes shifted from Harry to the trees beyond.

"Oh my god…”

Harry turned, his breath fogging the windowpane as, far below, flames snuck out of the reeds and slithered toward the house. Bellatrix emerged, peering up through the darkness toward Harry’s silhouette, a mad grin on her face. As she shrieked eerily, his eyes flashed with hatred.

Harry burst through the front door, wand draw, and pelted toward Bellatrix. She grinned, turned, and vanished into the reeds.

“Harry, no!” Arthur Weasley called urgently as he disappeared into the reeds.

Flames raced up the porch steps and climbed the walls of the house. Lupin drew his wand and raced after Harry.

“Remus!” Tonks called.

Ron, Fred, and George appeared and joined Arthur as he dashed toward the smoking marsh. Arthur glanced back as you emerged.

“Y/N, stay with Molly!”

Without hesitation, you raced for the reeds.

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Harry careened through the marsh, reeds flashing past, then spied Bellatrix. She grinned, looking like a crazed wood nymph, then flitted off, her laughter mocking him. As he pursued, fire snaked through the reeds toward him.

Fred, George, Ron, and Arthur fanned out, running full-out, their feet kicking up sparks as shadows splintered throughout the reeds. It was like chasing ghosts.

You raced through the reeds, (h/c) hair gleaming.

Bellatrix lead Harry on, grinning madly.

You came dashing to a halt, chest heaving as you peered into the smoking marsh. A huge figure quivered through a veil of smoke. You eyes shifted, saw Bellatrix racing forward through the reeds, then shifted back as the veil of smoke evaporated and revealed… Greyback.

Bellatrix made an odd, clicking noise, like a signal, and Greyback edged forward, sweeping away reeds in front of him and revealing…

… Harry as he pelted forward.

“No, Harry! It’s a trap!”

Harry faltered, looking toward your voice and spied Greyback. Bellatrix stopped dead, wheeled in her tracks, and seeing you, shrieked with rage. Raising her wand, she fired a bolt of red light which exploded in a shower of sparks around you. You shrieked and ducked, but fired back and wheeled away, flashing through the reeds and coming face to face with-

Greyback, sharp teeth glittering.

“Don’t you smell clean.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him in pure terror.

Just then, a bolt of blue burst off Greyback’s back and he turned, seeing Harry standing several yards off. As Greyback gave a chase, you pelted after, both of your breaths shortening until…

Greyback rushed into a clearing, panting, glancing about.

Just then, twin bolts of light blasted from opposite sides of the clearing and Greyback was lifted in the air and slammed to the ground. As he regained his feet, he looked into the reeds and saw you and Harry, wands poised. He grinned… when Bellatrix’s odd, clicking signal carried through the night once again. Turning away, he disappeared.

You and Harry slowly stepped out of the reeds and stared at each other wordlessly. You let out a whimper and threw yourself at Harry, wrapping your arms around his middle in relief. He immediately reciprocated, his arms flying to hold you steady and stroke through your hair. It oddly reminded you of your experience at the Yule Ball, your mind flashing back to when you threw yourself at Harry after hearing his side of the story. You breathed a shaky sigh into his chest and Harry rested his chin atop your head.

Then… Ron, Fred, George, Arthur, and Lupin came thrashing into the clearing and stopped. All around them, the reeds smoked, the flames dying. Across the marsh, Bellatrix’s cackle rose briefly on the air- then all was quiet.

“You’re lucky you two weren’t killed.”

Hermione. Who else?

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Present…

This all brings you to today.

How did you end up sitting in Xenophilius Lovegood’s home, reading a children’s tail about the Deathly Hallows in the middle of what was supposed to be your seventh year at Hogwarts? You’ll never know.

You’ve all just finished listening to Hermione read from the Tales of the Beedle Bard children’s book of wizarding fairytales.

Xenophilius Lovegood stares out out the window. The sun has nearly vanished over the lip of the hill.

“Well, there you are. Those are the Deathly Hallows.”

Harry glances around the room, still confused.

“Sorry… I still don’t really understand.” He shrugs.

Lovegood turns and, taking quill and parchment, draws a straight vertical line…

“The Elder Wand…”

… then adds a circle on top of the line…

“The Resurrection Stone.”

… then encloses both in a triangle.

“The Cloak of Invisibility. Together… they make the Deathly Hallows. Together… they make one master of Death.”

The four of you stare at the symbol in disbelief.

“Mr. Lovegood, does the Peverell family have anything to do with the Deathly Hallows?” You asked curiously. You noticed Ron, Harry, and Hermione staring at you in curiosity.

“That was the name of the grave with the mark on it in Godric’s Hollow. Ignotus Peverell.” You clarified with detail.

“Ignotus and his brothers Cadmus and Antioch are thought to be the original owners of the Hallows and therefore the inspiration for the story.” Lovegood’s focus abruptly wavered, sadness in his eyes, then blinks, eyeing the tea kettle.

“Ah, but your tea’s grown cold. Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Lovegood heads downstairs with the tea kettle in hand.

As Lovegood exits, Ron speaks. “Let’s get out of here once he’s back. I’m not touching this stuff, hot or cold.” Ron grimaced at his cup of half-empty tea. You nodded in agreement.

“Which one would you choose if you could? Of the Deathly Hallows?” Harry asks the group, lost in thought.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Hermione glances around.

All four of your speak at once:

“The Wand.”

“The Cloak.”

“The Cloak.”

“The Stone.”

You all glance at each other, amused. You and Hermione share a look, knowingly. You’d each picked the cloak for a reason.

“You’re supposed to say the Cloak, but who wants to spend all day being invisible? Dead boring if you ask me. But an unbeatable wand!” Ron grinned.

“Its owner grew drunk with power and was murdered.” Hermione raises an eyebrow at Ron accusingly.

“Yeah, but imagine what a short wicked life you’d lead.” Ron counters.

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Why the Stone, Harry?” she directs her question to Harry now.

“Well, you could bring people back, couldn’t you? Mad-Eye. Dumbledore. Sirius. Anybody.” Harry shrugged.

“But according to the story, they don’t want to come back. It’s all rubbish, anyway. There’s no such thing as the Deathly Hallows.” Hermione’s counter is gentle.

“But I have one. The Invisibility Cloak my father left me.” Harry reminds quickly.

“There have always been Cloaks-”

“Not like Harry’s. I’ve seen a fair few. Dad used to bring home the ones the Ministry confiscated from petty thieves and the like. They always got holes or tears. Harry’s is different. It’s perfect.” Ron explains before Hermione can finish.

“And I think I’ve actually held the Resurrection Stone in my hands, that night in Dumbledore’s office when he showed me the ring he’d destroyed, the Horcrux. It had a symbol on it. Now I think it was the mark of the Hallows.

The four of you stand silently when Lovegood returns.

"Mr. Lovegood. Thank you, sir-”

“You forgot the water.” Ron points to the tea kettle.

“The water?” Lovegood inquires.

“For the tea.” Ron raises an eyebrow as if it were obvious.

“Did, didn’t I? How silly of me?” Lovegood breaks out into a nervous smile.

“No matter, sir. We really ought to be go-”

“No, you mustn’t!” Lovegood panics, his hands searching for any type of purchase on any surface he can find.

“Sir?” Harry questions.

“You’re my only hope. They were angry, you see, about what I’d been writing, so they took her. They took my Luna…” Lovegood’s eyes find Harry with malicious intent. “But it’s really you they want…”

“Who took her, sir?” You try gently.

Hermione eyes the print press. A copy of the Quibbler lies stuck under a roller. She reaches out and pulls it free, the ink streaking over the cover, over Harry’s face and the blazing headline: UNDESIRABLE NUMBER #1.

“Him. Surely you call him You-Know-Who. But his real name is of course… Voldemort.”

As if on cue, instantly, out the window, figures on broomsticks appeared in the sky, getting directly toward the house. As you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hit the floor, ropes of light ricochet off the windowsill. The printing press explodes, raining Quibblers everywhere, like a flock of doves, smoking with flames. Lovegood waves madly from the window.

“Stop! I’ve got him-”

Lovegood is blasted off his feet by a stunning spell so great the chain around his neck flies across the room and settles at your feet. You glance down, watching the symbol of the Deathly Hallows dissolve like mercury, then looked up, seeing Lovegood streak out the door.

“Ron, Harry, Y/n! Take my hand!”

You, Harry, and Ron begin to crawl on your knees toward Hermione when another volley of spells ricochet about the room and- ping!- strike the Gurdyroot teapot. As Hermione watches, it flies into the air, tumbling end over end toward the Erumpent Horn. Harry’s hand closes on hers, then Ron’s, you reach out and…

… the teapot strikes the Erumpent Horn.

There is a colossal explosion. The second floor of the black cylinder ruptures. Quibblers belch into the air like confetti as Lovegood narrowly escapes and the Death Eaters are engulfed and you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione…

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡ … tumble and roll to your feet, barely visible in the darkness.

“That treacherous old bleeder! Is there no one we can trust?!” Ron grumbles as he dusts himself off.

“They’ve kidnapped Luna because he supported Harry. He was just desperate.” You explain softly.

Ron says nothing, then spits, clearing the grit from his teeth and peers toward the river. Unlike the raging force it was the last time you were here, it is a little more than a trickle now. The trees are eerily quiet.

“I’ll do the enchantments.”

Ron takes out his wand… when you raise your hand, stopping him. You eyes rise. Your breath catches. Ron, Harry, and Hermione look. Clinging to the branches of the trees above, almost as if part of the trees themselves, are…

Snatchers.

A wand blooms above and illuminates the face of Scabior. Your red scarf, now faded and filthy, dangles from his neck. He presses it to his grimy nose, inhales, and grins.

“Hello, beautiful.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡ The four of you dash through the trees.

You flicker through the trees, swift as the wind, as Scabior pursues you.

Harry slashes through the river, looks up, and sees a Snatcher leap across the divide from one tree to another.

Ron pounds through thick brush, over a fallen tree.

Hermione expertly avoids sticks and stones covering the forest floor, her focus unwavering.

The forest grows more dense, the shadows thicken. Spells splinter through the trees, ropes of light lace the night.

Hermione stumbles, but regains her footing and finds herself in a clearing. You come along not long after, glancing at her with panic. Another figure pelts towards the two of you: Harry.

You all freeze briefly, then the clearing explodes with light as spells ricochet. They hit the ground. You hear the snatchers closing in.

You look to Harry. The tip of your wand glows and your face blooms in the darkness, looking mildly demonic. You reach out, strip his glasses from his face, then point your wand… at him. A burst of white light strikes him in the eyes. As your wand goes dark…

… he is flying toward a fortress, gliding around the high walls, up to the topmost window of the highest tower. He passes through the window- little more than a slit- and…

…finds a skeletal figure lying beneath a ragged blanket. The figure stirs, looks up, and grins with broken teeth. It is the young man- the thief- grown old. Grindelwald.

“Ah, Tom, I thought you would come one day. But surely you must know I no longer have what you seek.”

A shadow- Voldemort’s- falls across Grindelwald.

“If not you, then who?”

“You’re so innocent, Tom. Like a schoolboy. There’s so much you don’t understand.”

“Tell me, Grindelwald. Tell me where to find it! Tell me who possesses it! The name, Grindelwald! The name!”

“Can’t you guess, Tom? It lies within him, of course. Buried within the earth. It is he who possesses it, even in death. Your old friend and mine… Dumbledore.”

Harry blinks and in a swollen blur, peers at you and whispers quickly.

“They exist. The Hallows.”

You and Hermione look at him expectantly. He nods, his face shrouded in shadow, barely visible.

“But he only wants the one, the last one. That’s what he’s been looking for.”

“What are you saying?”

“He knows where it is, You-Know-Who. He’ll have it by the end of the night. He’s found the Elder Wand.”

As you and Hermione stare in stunned disbelief, figures emerge from the trees. Ron is shoved to the ground next to them. Scabior strips you, Hermione, and Harry of your wands.

“Don’t touch her!” Harry exclaims urgently. A fist hits Harry hard. It’s Greyback.

“Stop it!” You gasp desperately.

“Your boyfriend’ll get worse than that if he doesn’t behave, lovely.” Scabior grins misshapenly.

Scabior paints your face with light then casts it on Harry. Harry peers up, his eyes swollen to slits, his face horribly misshapen.

“What happened to you, ugly?” Scabior grimaces.

Harry’s hand finds his face, feeling the lumps.

“What’s your name?”

“Dudley. Vernon Dudley.” Harry blurts quickly.

“Check the list. And you, ginger?”

“Stan Shunpike.” Ron grumbles.

“Like 'ell you are. We know skinny Stan. Try again.” Scabior scoffs.

Greyback, his boot to Ron’s neck, presses harder.

“Weasley… Barney Weasley.” Ron makes up the name on the spot.

“Weasley, eh? Wouldn’t be related to that blood traitor Arthur Weasley, would you?”

“Piss off! Arthur Weasley’s ten times the wizard you are!” Ron struggles.

“Worth ten times you if I can find him. Wasn’t you that tipped him off, was it?” Scabior growls. Ron stays mute. Scabior turns to Hermione.

“You?” He asks quickly.

“Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood.” Hermione struggles in the snatcher’s grip.

Scabior turns to you with a sickly sweet grin.

“How 'bout you, lovely? What do they call you…?”

You jerk away from his finger under your chin and glare.

“Lavender. Brown. Pure blood.” you whisper quietly.

Scabior strokes the nape of your neck, then takes your hair in hand, sniffing it. You groan at his proximity.

“You smell like vanilla, Lavender. I think you’re going to be my favorite.” He grins.

“There’s no Vernon Dudely on 'ere.” A snatcher waves a book in the air.

Reluctantly, Scabior turns from you to Harry.

“Hear that, ugly? The list says you’re lying. How come you don’t want us to know who you are? Hm?”

“The list is wrong. I told you who I am-”

Scabior puts a finger to his lips, silencing Harry, his wand probing Harry’s face more closely.

“Change of plans, boys. We won’t be taking this lot to the Ministry.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Scabior and the others escort you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione past the yew hedges of the Malfoy Manor. You eye the white peacock, looking like a ghostly lawn ornament. Harry whispers to you.

“What did you put on me?” He inquires.

“A Stinging Jinx.” You inform quietly.

“How long will it last?”

“Not long.”

Harry glances down and sees his glasses cupped in your palm. As he slips them into his pocket, the group suddenly slows. Up ahead, on the other side of the gate, Bellatrix, Lucius, and Narcissa approach. Scabior grabs Harry’s arm and pushes his face up to the iron bars.

Bellatrix steps close. “Show me.”

Scabior reaches out his dirty fingers and pushes Harry’s hair roughly off his forehead.

Bellatrix shines her wand. Despite the swelling, one intriguing feature can be seen: a scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Bellatrix studies it long and hard… then smiles.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

As Bellatrix leads the procession inside, she speaks to Narcissa.

“Get Draco.”

Narcissa eyes her sister briefly, warily, then strides off, toward the brightly-lit room ahead, where her husband Lucius stands, cradling a nearly-empty wine glass.

“Why Draco?” Lucius inquires. Narcissa passes her husband without a word.

“Just sit back and watch, Lucius. Hm? Pour yourself another glass of wine.” As she passes, she flicks her finger off the rim of his glass.

Bellatrix turns, eyeing you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Where’d you find them?” She begins.

“In the North Forest.” Scabior answers.

Wormtail quietly enters the room. As Harry eyes him, Bellatrix pauses, studying his scar again.

“Lovely scarf, Scabior. Though I’m not sure it’s your color.” Bellatrix teases.

“It’s not mine.”

“You don’t say.” Her eyes slide, catching him looking to you.

“Fancy her, do you, Scabior? Can’t say I blame you. Maybe we’ll work out a little reward for you, hm? That is, assuming all is as it appears. Ah, Draco. Come here, darling.”

From the shadows at the far end of the room, Draco separates from Narcissa and steps cautiously forward.

“My friends here say they’ve got Harry Potter. Seeing as he’s an old school chum of yours, I thought you could confirm the fact for us.”

Draco stares at Harry.

“Well…?” Bellatrix urges.

“I can’t… I can’t be sure.” Draco grimaces. Lucius steps forward, wine glass sloshing.

“Look close, Draco. If we’re the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven. Do you understand-”

“Now, we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?” Scabior reminds, quietly menacing.

“Of course not.” Bellatrix’s eyes harden. “Narcissa. Tend to your husband.”

Lucius staggers back nervously next to his wife.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Get up nice and close.” Bellatrix nudges Draco forward until he’s only inches from Harry.

“What’s wrong with his face?” Draco grimaces as he gets a closer look at Harry.

“Yes, what is wrong with his face, Scabior?” Bellatrix cranes her neck to look up at the snatchers.

“He came to us that way. I reckon he picked it up in the forest.” Scabior shrugged.

“Or ran into a Stinging Jinx.”

You feel your heart clench as you cast your eyes downward. Bellatrix notices your destress and her eyes flash, stepping up close to you.

“Was it you, dearie? Give me her wand. We’ll see what the last spell was.”

You’re alarmed as the Snatcher steps forward.

“What is that?” Bellatrix’s tone is quietly murderous. She pushes past Scabior and Greyback and steps before another Snatcher.

Your beaded purse dangles from one hand. In the other, he holds… the Sword of Gryffindor.

“It was in her bag when we searched her. Reckon it’s mine now.”

Bang! Quick as lightning, Bellatrix stuns the Snatcher and catches the sword as he drops. Scabior wheels.

“Are you mad?!” Bang! Bellatrix drops Scabior to his knees before his wand escapes his cloak. He bellows in fury.

“How dare you! Release me, woman!”

Bellatrix stares at him, eyes full of fire, then flicks her wand as he slumps forward, wincing.

“Go. GO!”

Scabior eyes her resentfully, then exits with Greyback an the others. Bellatrix turns.

“Wormtail. Put these three in the cellar. I want to have a little conversation with this one. Girl to girl.”

“No!” Hermione steps forward and covers your body with her own, staring Bellatrix down with confidence. Bellatrix merely smirks.

“Fine. Put the boys in the cellar, then. We’ll have a girl talk.”

As Wormtail jerks them away, Harry’s eyes flash with panic and meet yours. You mouth, “It’s okay.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Wormtail prods Harry and Ron down a steep flight of stairs and slams the door. Ron throws himself against it and turns to Harry.

“Harry! What’re we going to do? We can’t just leave them alone with her!”

“Ron…? Harry…?”

Harry peers into the small, shadow space below and senses movement.

“Luna…?” ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Bellatrix twirls a silver dagger in her fingers.

“This sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it?” Bellatrix pins you to the floor as Hermione lays motionless beside you, watching helplessly.

You draw in a shaky, sobbing breath as you try to regain your composure as you cry out. “I didn’t take it!” You exclaim desperately.

“Liar!” Bellatrix moves to your arm and slices open the skin in a rhythmic fashion, carving a word out of your skin. You let out a scream in agony and struggle in her grip, shrieking as your skin burns.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Harry eyes Ollivander cautiously, when Bellatrix’s voice echoes through the vent.

“I’m going to ask you once again: what else did you and your friends take from my vault?!”

Harry’s heart nearly shatters when he hears your sobbing response.

“I told you! I don’t know what you’re talking-” you scream in pain. Harry slams his fist against the wall and turns.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Hermione whimpers as she watches Bellatrix’s use of the Cruciatus curse on you for answers. You let our a piercing wail of anguish as she strikes you again.

“Stop it, please.” Hermione lets out a gentle sob and whisper as she watches you struggle to keep sane.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Quickly, cautiously, Harry and Ron, now brandishing Wormtail’s wand, pad toward the main room as Dobby, the newest arrival, slips off in another direction. As Ron steps past the lifeless Snatcher without a glance, Harry hesitates and glances down.

Something flutters weakly in the Snatcher’s pocket. The tip of a golden wing. Harry crouches and looks; it’s the Snitch.

“Sss.”

Harry looks up and sees Ron gesturing for him. Quickly, he takes the Snitch and slips it into his pocket.

Harry joins Ron as the watch Bellatrix, who comes into view, towering over Griphook, who holds the sword, studying it. You lie at Bellatrix’s feet. Seeing you, Harry begins to lurch forward. Ron restrains him.

“Well?”

“I left Gringotts employ many weeks ago, but when I was last in your vault, the sword was there.”

Hermione studies the two and then watches as a strand of Bellatrix’s hair drifts free and, as if in a dream, floats through the air…

“Perhaps it just walked out on its own then.”

“There is no place safer than Gringotts, Madam Lestrange.”

… and catches on Hermione’s shirt.

“Liar! You can’t deceive me!” Bellatrix slashes the dagger across Griphook’s cheek and a deep gash opens. He barely flinches, the hint of a smile on his lips. Bellatrix looks mildly unnerved by his reaction.

“Consider yourself lucky, Goblin. The same won’t be said for this one.” Bellatrix poises the dagger over you and pushes your limp body with her pointed heel. You whimper at the contact to your sore body and flip over at her command.

“Like hell!”

Bellatrix wheeled, seeing Harry pelting forward.

“Expelliarmus!”

Bellatrix’s dangling wand shoots free and tumbles end over end, right into Harry’s hand.

“Stupefy!”

Lucius Malfoy drops instantly, his wine glass shattering in a burgundy bloom on the hearth. Narcissa and Draco draw their wands. Jets of light spray across the room.

Hermione had been snatched up by Ron at this point, but no one was able to get to you.

“Stop or she dies!”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione freeze and see you leaning limply against Bellatrix, the dagger at your throat.

“Drop your wands.” Bellatrix commands.

Harry stands rigidly, staring balefully at Bellatrix. She presses the dagger into your neck enough for a small cut.

“Ah!” you exclaim painfully.

“I said drop them!”

“All right!” Harry grunts angrily.

Ron flings away Wormtail’s wand, Harry drops Bellatrix’s.

“Pick them up, Draco. Now! Well, well, look what we have here. Harry Potter. All bright, shiny and new again. Just in time for the Dark Lord.”

Harry glances in the mirror opposite and sees that the stinging jinx is wearing off.

“Call him, Draco.”

Draco hesitates. But Lucius doesn’t, pulling up his sleeve and touching his finger to the Dark Mark on his forearm. Harry’s scar constricts and he grimaces in agony. Bellatrix cackles maniacally, her knife pressed against the tender flesh of your neck. A bead of blood bubbles on the blade and then… and grinding noise in heard. Harry glances up and sees the chandelier begin to tremble. As the tinkle of glass fills the room, Bellatrix stares directly upward, watching as…

… the chandelier bursts free of the ceiling and plummets. Bellatrix bolts and you stagger clear, falling into Harry’s arms. His arms immediately reciprocate and you fall into that familiar memory once again. Your body is sore and limp, but there’s no where you would rather be than in his arms at this moment.

Griphook grabs the sword as glass explodes in razor-sharp slivers, Draco screams and covers his bloody face. Harry wrests the blood-soaked wands from his hands after transferring you to Ron and Hermione and, wheeling, points all three at Lucius.

“Stupefy!”

Lucius flies off his feet and drops in a heap.

“You dirty little monkey! You could have killed me!”

Harry turns and sees Bellatrix raging at Dobby. The elf stands fearlessly across from her, defiant.

“Dobby never meant to kill. Dobby only meant to maim… or seriously injure.

"For God’s sake, Cissy, you’ve got a wand! Use it!”

Narcissa hesitates. Crack!- Dobby waves his little fist and Narcissa’s wand flies from her hand.

“How dare you take a witch’s wand! How dare you defy your masters!”

“Dobby has no master! Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”

Harry tosses Ron and wand, grabs your beaded bag, and joins the others in the center of the room.

“Give the Dark Lord our regards.” You call out weakly with a cheeky smile.

Harry almost smiles back at you. You always have to have the last word.

His hand closes on Dobby’s and the drawing room begins to spin. Bellatrix’s face twists into an ugly blur. Her arm rises, dagger in hand. There is a flash of silver. Then all goes black for a long time.

Then…

… with a great WHOOSH, Harry and the others tumble onto solid earth and hear the crash of waves.

As Harry staggers to his feet as the stars whirl above him. He sees he is on a cliff overlooking a dark sea.

Ron holds Hermione gently. Tears sting her eyes.

You feel a sharp pain in your stomach and your breath hitches.

You can already begin to feel life leaving your body as you become numb to the pain.

“It’s all right, Hermione. You’re safe. We’re all safe.” Harry begins to assure as he searches for you.

She doesn’t respond, nor Ron. Then Harry realizes they are looking past him, even Dobby and Griphook, the sword hanging limply in his hand.

Harry turns.

You stand alone, a queer smile on your face, hand resting just below your chest, the hilt of Bellatrix’s dagger protruding between your fingers.

Hermione opens her mouth and lets out a blood-curdling scream at the sight of you. She covers her mouth with one hand and tears spill from her eyes as Ron holds her tightly.

“Y/N… no…”

As Harry rushes to you, you crumple in his arms, your eyes rolling up to the stars.

“It’s okay… here… just hold on, Y/N. I’ll fix you- Hermione- her bag- Essence of Dittany- something… Hermione! Help me!”

Harry is desperate now as he watches you become more and more lifeless in his arms. He can’t watch you go now, not like this. Not when they are so incredibly close.

Hermione merely stands, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Don’t worry about me, Harry.” You manage. Harry’s face contorts in a sob.

“No, but I have to worry about you! You’re dying! Please… help.” Harry searches frantically for anything.

“I would say something witty… but my mind is blank.” you manage a chuckle as you reach up to grip Harry’s arm. Harry yanks your hand and brings it up to his cheek and nuzzles himself against your palm with closed eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” You stroke his cheek the best you can manage. Harry opens his eyes and stares down into your paling eyes, his own flooding with tears.

“You’re gonna be alright, I promise.” you whisper gently.

“I never meant for you to get caught up in all of this. I promise.” Harry draws in a shaky breath and squints his eyes shut.

It has to be a dream, he’s going to wake up any moment to you shaking him awake in the tent and telling him it was just another one of his nightmares.

But when he opens his eyes, you’re still lying limp in his arms, the dagger in your body and the life leaving your eyes.

“I wanted to, Harry. It was all worth it. For you.” Your smile is sad as you watch the emotional pain that wrenches his heart.

“Please don’t leave me… I’m in love with you…” Harry sobs desperately.

You can’t tell if it’s the dagger in your chest, or if your heart palpitates from his words. That was all you ever wanted to hear. Those words from him and him alone.

“I’m in love with you too, you twat.” you giggle. Harry’s frown twitches into a sad smile for only a moment, before he regains his awareness of the weight of the situation.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he sniffles pathetically.

“Me too.” Your hand on his cheek begins to grow numb and limp, if it weren’t for Harry gripping it to his face.

You use your last burst of strength and wind your hand around his neck and tug him down to your level, pressing your lips to his in your first and final kiss. Harry wastes no time and reciprocates, only separating from you when he needs air to breathe, but keeps the proximity between your faces.

“Take care of them for me, yeah?” You whisper as your eyes become hooded.

“W-what? No! Y/N, please! We’re going to fix you, I promise, I’ll-”

But he stops himself when he notices that your eyes have fluttered shut and your hand falls limp around his neck. He’s close enough to your face to feel your breathing has stopped and your body has gone mostly cold.

“I’m so sorry.” Harry cradles your head against his neck and lets out heart-wrenching sobs unabashedly.

Hermione hides her face in Ron’s neck as she cries, and Ron sheds tears as he watches his best friend cradle your limp body.

They never thought it would come to this.

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Sherlock and Baby Rosie Head-canons Pt. 2

*She said her first word when John brought her a new toy and she responded by saying “boring.” You could hear Sherlock cackle for miles.

*She would bring Sherlock one of her toys and say “The Game is On” to tell him she wanted to play.

*John was appalled to find Rosie and Sherlock playing “detectives” on evening. It was more so the baby doll with the ketchup squirted all over it to create a murder scene that concerned him. Sherlock had to promise to keep the games PG rated from there on out.

*Next time John comes home, Rosie and Sherlock are playing pirates. He nearly cries when he hears Sherlock call her Redbeard.

*John questions him about it later. He says that when he asked him to keep the games PG, the only other thing he could remember playing as a child was pirates, so that’s what they did.

*Sherlock “teaches” her to dance by letting her stand on his feet while he waltzes.

*She can’t say “Sherlock” when she’s first learning to talk to he becomes “Lockie”

*When Mycroft comes over, Sherlock whispers to Rosie to go wrap him up in a big hug because he knows it will make Mycroft uncomfortable since he isn’t great with kids.

*Sherlock teaches her to call Mycroft “Uncle Mine” since Mycroft calls Sherlock “Brother Mine.”

*She doesn't quite understand the concept of a mind palace. She builds her own out of cardboard boxes and calls it her "mind palace."

*She makes Sherlock a crown so that he can be King of his mind palace, since she thinks a palace is only where kings live. A little while later, Sherlock gets her a tiara so she can be Queen of her mind palace.

*Sherlock takes her on special trips around London to try all the different chips stands

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Hogwarts House Sorting: Hamilton Characters

Alexander Hamilton: Slytherin

Thomas Jefferson: Ravenclaw

Aaron Burr: Slytherin

George Washington: Hufflepuff

John Laurens: Hufflepuff

Eliza (Schuyler) Hamilton: Hufflepuff

Angelica (Schuyler) Church: Ravenclaw

Philip Hamilton: Gryffindor

Marquis de Lafayette: Gryffindor

(Props to @violetbovine for helping me figure out some of the tough ones!)

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Sherlock and Baby Rosie Head-canons Pt. 1

*He reads to her - usually non-fiction - so that he can help give her as much knowledge as he can.

*Before she starts talking, Sherlock talks through cases with her. He responds to her babbles like they’re actual words. 

*His violin playing puts her right to sleep. Sometimes, it’s the only thing that will. John makes him record a few pieces so he can play them when he’s desperate for her to settle down. 

*He writes her a special song, and it becomes Rosie’s Lullaby. Sherlock makes a mental note to ask to play it at her wedding one day.

*Much to John’s surprise, Sherlock becomes hyper concerned and aware of safety and “baby-proofing” once Rosie starts to crawl and walk. 

*Despite his flat normally being a mess, he makes sure to keep all the sharp objects and weapons in very high locations at all times. 

*All the experimental body parts are on the top shelves of the fridge. 

*He finally makes an effort to get 100% clean so that Rosie is never around anything or anyone that could harm her. 

*Since he once spray painted on the walls, Sherlock lets Rosie finger paint on the walls while he’s working. 

*John finds Sherlock asleep one night in the living room chair, a book on babies and toddlers open on his chest and a stack of them at his feet. 

*Sherlock buys her a coat and hat that is similar to his so that they can match when they go out on cases. 

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Hogwarts House Sorting: Les Miserables

Jean Valjean: Gryffindor (token “hero” character)

Fantine: Gryffindor (because of her bravery for Cosette)

Javert: Slytherin (his ambition to stop Valjean)

Cosette: Hufflepuff (loyalty to Marius and Valjean - also she’s a cinnamon roll)

Marius: Hufflepuff (willing to put Cosette above all else aka loyalty)

Enjolras: Ravenclaw (thinker, logical, strategist, intellectual, consumed by his passions/interests)

Eponine: Slytherin (very cunning)

Grantaire: Hufflepuff (loyalty to the Amis)

HUGE thank you to @havelightwilltravel for helping me sort these. I feel like I should just make you a co-mod to this blog at this point lol. 

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Hogwarts House Sorting: BBC Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes: Ravenclaw

John Watson: Gryffindor

Mycroft Holmes: Slytherin

Greg Lestrade: Hufflepuff

Jim Moriarity: Slytherin

Mary Watson: Slytherin

Molly Hooper: Ravenclaw

Mrs. Hudson: Slytherin

(Props to @havelightwilltravel for helping me figure it out)

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Even Monsters Have Nightmares (Beauty and the Beast Oneshot)

           He felt the sunbeam land on his chest through his bedroom window. It was warm. He stretched, his limbs ruffling the bedclothes as he moved. He didn’t want to wake up, but he knew it was time to start the day. His hand traveled across the bed, reaching for his wife. The space was empty. She must have already risen. His lips upturned in a slight smile as he thought of Belle downstairs, playing with Chip or more likely, reading a book. He let his eyes ease open and stare at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up. And that’s when the panic set in. He was covered in…hair. He thrust his hands out in front of his face, horrified to see claws instead of fingers. He was a beast again. His breath came faster and faster until he was hyperventilating.

           “Belle!” he screamed.

           When the word came out, he nearly choked. His voice was deeper, gruffer again. It was the voice of an animal. He flung the door open, nearly knocking it off of its hinges.

           “Belle! Lumiere! Cogsworth! Someone? What’s happened?” he roared, tearing through the hallways and searching all the rooms.

           There was no sign of any of them. His heart sank when he reached the kitchen and he saw Mrs. Potts. Except…it wasn’t Mrs. Potts. It was just a teapot, just an object. If he was a beast again and if Mrs. Potts had succumbed to the spell, then they all had. He was alone. His knees let out a sharp crack as he fell to the floor, his hands covering his face. Sobs wracked his frame, and he could feel the fur shaking on his body. In a surge of rage, he let out a roar and reached up, trying to rip the horns from his head.

           This couldn’t be happening. The spell was broken. It couldn’t have been reversed. He can’t have lost all the people he loved. The world was crashing down around him, his heart was breaking, and all he could do was sit there and let sobs rip through his chest.

           Suddenly, the view changed. He was sitting in bed, staring at the wall with wide eyes. His chest heaved up and down from rapid breathing. There was a soft hand on his arm, another rubbing his back.

           “Adam, sweetheart, it’s alright. Look at me,” Belle’s soft voice said.

           He turned his head, his blue eyes meeting his wife’s hazel.

           “Belle,” he breathed.

           “I’m here, love.”

           He looked down at his body, his human body, and smiled.

           “You were having a nightmare, I believe,” she said, worrying her bottom lip.

           Adam let out a harsh laugh, “Yes love, even monsters have nightmares.”

           Belle’s eyebrows furrowed together and she reached up to brush hair out of her husband’s face, “You aren’t a monster, Adam. Don’t call yourself that. You’re my wonderful husband, and I love you.”

           Adam reached forward and wrapped Belle in his arms, bringing her to his chest, “I love you too, so much, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

           Belle smiled up at him, “You’ll always have me. Let’s get some more sleep. It’s much too early.”

           “Agreed,” Adam laughed.

           He pressed a kiss to Belle’s forehead and together they sunk deep under the covers.

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Harry Potter (Marauders Era) Preference - What They Get You For Christmas

James - You had two gifts from James and he made you open them in a specific order. The first ended up being a stuffed stag so you could cuddle him when he wasn’t actually there. It started the joke of getting a stuffed version of every marauder. You eventually gave them to Harry when he was born. His second gift to you was a journal he had kept for the past year, filled with letters to you, written every day. Of course he’d give you his goofy side first and then knock you off your feet with his romantics. 

Sirius - Sirius decided to give you your own leather jacket, that matched his, for when you went on rides on his motorcycle. It instantly reminded you of him, but also warmed your heart because it represented an activity that you both loved to do together. It further solidified your unity as a couple in your eyes. 

Remus - You were always stealing Remus’s sweaters. They were cozy and they smelled like him. So for Christmas, he got you some chocolate (of course), and a sweater just like his so you wouldn’t have to keep stealing his. But did you stop stealing his sweaters?...No. He would just smile and shake his head when he found another one missing. 

Severus - Severus was very sentimental, contrary to popular belief. He used his talent with potions to make you a candle that never melted away, and it was laced with a potion that invoked your best memories together. When you burned it, you felt nothing but love, joy, and contentment. He also surprised you with a cabinet in his potions room that held bottles of his memories of the two of you together and a brand new pensieve so that you could see how he saw you through your eyes, and so that those wonderful memories would never fade away.��

Lucius - You had talked to Lucius about your dream vacation since the two of you met. You told him how you’d always dreamed of going after you finished your schooling, but once you got together, that dreamed turned into the two of you going together at some point. With all of Lucius’s money and his compulsive need to make you happy all the time, you shouldn’t have been surprised when you opened your Christmas present and it was a piece of paper declaring that you and Lucius would be leaving on your dream trip the very next day. 

A/N: HUGE thanks to @havelightwilltravel for helping me come up with and contributing ideas for dear old Sev, James, and Sirius! 

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

More Additions

I have officially added Game of Thrones to my list of fandoms eligible for requests! Excited to see what you guys send in! 

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

I Hope That You Burn (Hamilton Imagine)

Eliza encounters Burr several times after the death of Alexander. 

           The first time Eliza saw him after what he did, rage ripped through her body. It was a week after her Alexander had been killed. Angelica and her husband John had come all the way from London with their family to be with Eliza and the children. Angelica had basically taken over the household duties as Eliza spent all her energy mourning her husband and comforting her children. It was a week before Angelica could convince Eliza to join them for a trip to the market. Still donned in all black, Eliza and the children journeyed into the city with her sister and her family. She tried to ignore the looks of pity that were being thrown her way. They just made her want to sink into a hole. She was browsing some tomatoes when she saw him. Standing tall in his suit, exchanging pleasantries with the baker, as if he had not just taken a man’s life, a husband’s life, a father’s life. When she saw his face, the letter he’d written to the doctor expressing his concern for Alexander flashed in her mind. She’d ripped it up into tiny pieces and thrown it into the dirt to be trampled by passing carriages. When she saw his face, white-hot rage ripped through her body. Eliza dropped the tomato in her hand back into the crate and stormed his direction, her feet stirring up dust on the cobblestones. Angelica noticed her sudden movement and quickly followed, but Eliza paid no attention. Her hand clamped down on his shoulder and jerked him her direction.

           “How dare you!” she roared, “How dare you make me a widow. How dare you leave these children without a father!”

           Burr’s eyes widened, shocked by her presence, “Mrs. Hamilton-”

           Eliza reared back and slapped him hard across the face, “No! Don’t you say his name. Was a silly argument really worth my husband’s life?”

           John Church, Angelica’s husband made his way to them now and picked Eliza up by the waist to keep her from doing any more harm to Aaron Burr. The entire market had stopped to watch the scene unfold.

           “I hope you burn!” Eliza screamed as her brother-in-law led her away.

           That night Eliza sobbed herself to sleep, clutching one of Alexander’s shirts to her chest.

           The second time she saw him she secretly happy that he was suffering. It was a few years after her husband’s death. She and the children were attending church one Sunday morning when she turned around and saw him sitting in the back of the building with tears in his eyes. News had just spread across town that his daughter, Theodosia had been lost at sea. When she’d read the article in the newspaper, part of her was happy. Eliza was happy that Aaron Burr could feel a little bit of the pain that she had felt. Eliza was happy that he could suffer too, just like she had. But then she remembered how she felt when she’d lost them. Phillip and Alexander. She remembered saying that she’d never wish that devastation and heartbreak on anyone. So as quickly as she felt satisfied with his plight, she felt that crushing sadness all over again. When they left the church, she couldn’t look him in the eye. She ushered her children out, never acknowledging him even though she could feel his eyes on her.

           The last time she saw him, it was completely unexpected. It was many years later. Eliza was working in her office in the orphanage when a young lady who helped care for the children entered the room.

           “Mrs. Eliza, there’s someone here to see you.”

           “Thank you, Rebecca. You can send them in.”

           Eliza was turned placing books on the shelves when she heard the heavy footfalls get louder.

           “If you’ll excuse me for just a moment, I’ll be right with you.”

           The visitor didn’t respond. When she turned around and found Aaron Burr standing in the middle of her office, she nearly stopped breathing.

           “Mr. Burr,” she said with her lips pressed into a thin line, “What can I do for you?”

           “Mrs. Hamilton, I know my presence here is hardly wanted. However, something has been pressing me from within and I had to force myself to come by and brave any anger I might face. I had to let you know that I am, most sincerely, sorry and regretful for what I did those many years ago. I know now that the world was wide enough for both your husband and I, and I was foolish for ever challenging him to the duel to begin with. I wish more than anything that I could go back and fix the error of my ways and erase this all from ever happening. But I cannot. All I can do know is let you know how deeply remorseful I am, and have been since the event occurred.”

           Eliza surveyed the man standing before her before responding. His hair was nearly gone, lines under his eyes told the story of many sleepless nights, and his eyes were filled with a sadness and sincerity that Eliza knew could not be faked.

           “Mr. Burr, I would think it clearly implausible that we could ever be on friendly terms again after our history, but…but I do wish to let you know that I have forgiven you for your actions. I had forgiven you a while ago, simply because I could not live with the anger anymore. I would also be remiss to not acknowledge my husbands part in his death. He made poor choices routinely throughout his life, and he had the choice to turn down the duel. Thus, I do not blame it entirely on you. I hope that you can leave here knowing that you are no longer an object of anger in my heart.”

           Burr’s mouth gaped open like a fish for a moment and then he snapped it shut.

           “Thank you.”

           Eliza nodded at him. He turned to leave, but stopped and faced her again.

           “This place…this orphanage is wonderful. You’ve done a wonderful job. Also, despite our many disagreements, your husband was a good man. He loved you, very much so.”

           “Thank you, Mr. Burr,” Eliza whispered.

           And then he was gone and Eliza carried on with her life. She had stopped wasting time on tears and anger many years ago.

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Harry Potter Questionnaire

1. Hogwarts House? - Ravenclaw, though Slytherin is arguable.

2: Patronus? - Swan

3: Butterbeer, fire whisky, or pumpkin juice - Butterbeer

4: Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade? – Diagon Alley

5: Favorite shop? – Flourish and Blotts

6: Your quidditch team? - ……Whichever one my friends are playing on.

7: Top five ships? – Remus/Tonks, Luna/Neville, Narcissa/Lucius, Bill/Fleur, Ron/Hermione

8: Otp? – Narcissa/Lucius

9: Notp? – Snarry

10: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang? - Hogwarts

11: Your wand? – Ivy with Dragon heartstring

12: Owl, cat, or toad? – cat because you can cuddle it.

13: Character you most identify with? - Luna

14: Character you hate for no good reason? - Dumbledore

15: Character you would bring back to life? - Remus

16: Character you just want to be happy? - Remus

17: What does amortentia smell like to you? – old books, my mom, a fire pit

18: Favorite Hogwarts class? - potions

19: Least favorite Hogwarts class? - Divination

20: Favorite professor? – Minerva McGonagall

21: Centaurs, mermaids, or ghosts? - ghosts

22: Chocolate frogs or Bertie Bott’s? – Chocolate frogs

23: Zonko’s or Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes? – Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, duh.

25: The Leaky Cauldron or The Three Broomsticks? – The Three Broomsticks

26: Lowkey ships? – Arthur/Molly, Draco/Hermione

27: Favorite Marauder? - Remus

28: The Knight Bus or broomstick travel? - Broomstick

29: Unicorns or Thestrals - Thestrals

30: Your go to spell? - Lumos

31: Quidditch position or spectator? – No athletic bone in my body so spectator

32: Favorite friendship? – Harry and Hermione

33: Animagus? – black cat

34: Wizarding World job? - Professor

35: Your broomstick type? - ……I have no idea

36: Dream Yule Ball date? - Draco

37: Gobstones or Wizard Chess? – Wizard Chess

38: Crookshanks or Pigwidgeon? - Pigwidgeon

39: Potions expert or charms expert? – Potions expert

40: Favorite common room? - Slytherin

41: The Quibbler or The Daily Prophet? – The Quibbler

42: Favorite of the Golden Trio? - Hermione

43: Fantastic Beasts or The Cursed Child? – Fantastic Beasts

44: Invisibility cloak, elder wand, or resurrection stone? – Invisibility cloak

45: Favorite minor character? – Bill Weasley

46: Harris or Gambon? – Harris all the way

47: Would you apparate? - yes

48: Favorite book? – The Half Blood Prince

49: Favorite movie? – The Half Blood Prince

50: Who would your BFF be? - Luna

@havelightwilltravel I challenge you to this. 

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Christine x Erik Imagine - Fool

Fool

Phantom of the Opera (Christine x Erik pairing)

Warnings: none

           It has been two weeks since I left the Opera Populaire for the last time. It has been two weeks since I turned my back on my Angel of Music and left my long time home engulfed in flames. I sit in my private room at the Vicomte de Chagney’s manor, brushing my hair before bed. He has put me up here until our future marriage, since I no longer have a home. When I left that day, I left with Raoul to start our life together. It was a dream come true for me, or at least I thought it was. In these last few days, I have been distracted by thoughts of my Angel when I should be concerned with planning a wedding. But how could I just move on and forget him? He gave me my voice, but he gave me so much more than that as well. He gave me my confidence, my joy, my hope. He gave me love and life. My dreams are filled with him, his voice, and his eyes. I have wondered since I left if I made the right decision. Can I live with the fact that I will never see him again, will never have him in my life again? I know Raoul will give me a wonderful life. I know he loves me and I love him, but I love Erik as well. Can I be happy with Raoul with thoughts of Erik constantly lingering in the back of my mind? Because that is what always happens. When I am with Raoul, my mind wanders to Erik, but when I am with Erik…

I know what I must do. It breaks my heart, but I know that if I do not make this choice, I will have a broken heart for the rest of my life. Before I lose my nerve, I pen a letter to Raoul explaining myself as best as I can without telling him where I am going and I tuck my most prized possessions into the pockets of my dress. I toss on my riding cloak and slip out my bedroom window after making sure my bedroom door is locked. Luckily, Raoul placed me on the first floor of the three-story manor. I doubt he would have if he had known that there was the slightest chance of me running away. Under the cover of darkness, I hurry through the grounds of the manor and when I reach the gate, I turn back one last time, my heart hurting for the man inside. He doesn’t deserve this. But I do not deserve to live the rest of my days in unhappiness either. I say a prayer for him as I turn and walk away, down the drive and into the streets of Paris. I don’t know where else to go to find him other than the Opera house, so I head there, hoping that he has not relocated. As I round another corner, the impressive Opera Populaire comes into view. Except, it isn’t so impressive anymore but more so haunting now, with the burnt walls and broken glass. After taking a deep breath, I head to the back of the building where I know there is a door to the backstage area, close to a trapdoor to the underground lake. I make my way down the twists and turns. I would remember the way to go in my sleep.

I finally make it to the bottom, the sad tune filling my ears, and as I step into a place where I am able to see my Angel of Music across the lake, I take note that I have never seen someone look so lost in their own home before. His back is to me as he sits at the organ, pressing out a song that is so full of sorrow that it nearly brings tears to my eyes. Unfortunately, the small boat is anchored across the lake, meaning I’ll have to wade across the lake. I step slowly into the water and watch as my dress pools around me. The lake isn’t that deep, but I stay close to the edges in case the center is deeper. When I step up onto the shore of the Phantom’s lair, the bottom half of my dress is sopping wet, along with my shoes.

“Erik,” I call in between notes.

His playing abruptly stops and his head snaps around to see me. He stands and walks over to me as if he isn’t really sure if I am actually there.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

“I came back. I…I left Raoul and came back to you.”

Pain twists on his face and he knots his fingers into his thin hair, “No. This is a dream. This is a cruel dream.”

 I step forward and grasp his wrists with every ounce of tenderness I can gather, pulling his arms back down.

“It isn’t a dream. I’m here, Erik. I’m really here. I had to make a choice, and I decided that I could not live my life without you in it. Raoul, he gave me safety and comfort. You, you give me love and life. How could I ever turn my back on that? I couldn’t live the rest of my days with you as nothing more than a dream that haunted me in my sleep. I needed and do still need you. I am here, with you, and I hope that you’ll let me stay,” I say.

Tears form in his eyes as he tries to grasp the words that I have spoken. I can see the joy in his face, but there is also sadness and fear.

“Only a fool could fall in love with someone as repulsive as me,” he mutters.

I shake my head as tears form in my own eyes. My fingers find the edge of his porcelain white mask, and to my surprise, he lets me peel it from his face, exposing the mangled skin. My lips ghost lightly over the scars covering his cheek before connecting them to his own lips in a sweet kiss.

“Then I certainly must be a fool,” I respond.

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

New Idea...

I’ve been throwing this idea around and I wanted to know what you guys think before I get started on it heavily. What would you guys think about a multi-chapter fic based off of The Bodyguard involving Les Miserables characters? Specifically Enjolras and Eponine? 

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Requests are open!!

Just got home for summer and I'm looking for stuff to write so send me some requests! Check my info page for more specifics!

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Never Satisfied

Never Satisfied (Angelica with Eliza x Alexander pairing)

           Eliza hadn’t stopped grinning since the handsome young soldier had kissed her hand and asked if he could write her. The entire carriage ride home she sat there with a silly smile on her face, staring out the window with sparkling eyes. Now, Angelica stood behind Eliza in her bedroom, helping her remove the pins from her hair. The grin was still there.

           “You really like him, don’t you?” Angelica remarked.

           Eliza let out a small giggle, “I do. I’m being stupid, aren’t I? I barely know him!”

           “You aren’t being stupid.”

           Angelica had been the first to spot him. Dressed in his uniform with eyes full of passion and hope, he had certainly caught her eye. Just as she was about to make her way to him, she turned and saw Eliza’s face. She followed her sister’s eyes to the same handsome soldier, and she inwardly cursed. The look in her little sister’s eyes, it was just…helpless. He had enraptured her as well. Much to her dismay, Angelica knew what she had to do. She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and worked her way through the people to the man. She didn’t dare look back at Eliza for fear of seeing betrayal and heartbreak on her face. Luckily, the man turned toward her just as she was walking up, keeping her from having to initiate the conversation.

           A coy smile fell onto his lips, “You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.”

           Angelica laughed inwardly at his bold first statement. She decided to play innocent.

           “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You forget yourself,” she responded, quirking an eyebrow at him.

           “You’re like me. I’m never satisfied,” he offers.

           She cocked her head to the side, “Is that right?”

           He nods his head, his eyes sparkling, “I have never been satisfied.”

           She blows a bit of air out of her nose and shakes her head before extending a hand to him.

           “My name is Angelica Schuyler,” she offers while curtseying.

           Her heart thudded a little harder in her chest as he bowed and pressed his lips gently to the back of her hand.

           “Alexander Hamilton.”

           “Where’s your family from?”

           Alexander lets out a small laugh, “Unimportant. But, there are a million things I haven’t done. Just you wait, I’ll do them all one day.”

           Heavens, she liked him. She liked him a lot. But then she made the mistake of turning around, reminding her of why she even came over here in the first place. Her sister. Angelica swallowed her pride and held her arm out.

           “Shall you walk with me?”

           Alexander took her arm, but looked down at her with a question in his eyes, “Where are you taking me?”

           “I’m about to change your life.”

           Alexander laughed, “Then by all means, please lead the way.”

           Angelica’s heart sunk with every step she took toward her sister. Eliza had turned her back toward them, so as they reached her, Angelica tapped her on the shoulder. Eliza turned around and her eyes got as big as saucers. After several beats of silence, Angelica cleared her throat, begging Eliza to say something.

           Finally, she curtsied, “Elizabeth Schuyler. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

           Alexander’s arm dropped from Angelica’s, reaching out to take Eliza’s hand and kiss it.

           “The pleasure is mine. Schuyler?” he asked, looking between the two ladies.

           “My sister,” Angelica offered.

           Before Alexander could say anything, Eliza jumped in again, “Thank you…for all your service.”

           That charming smile appeared again on his face, “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it. May I have the next dance?”

           With a blush and a nod from Eliza, they are off, spinning around the room. And Angelica is left standing there. That was the beginning of it. Now here she was listening to her sister talk of him, pretending to not be jealous. In reality, she was happy for her sister. But it didn’t take the sting out.

           “You aren’t being stupid,” she repeated, “Besides, he seemed as enchanted with you as you are with him.”

           Eliza spun around to look up at her sister, “Do you really think so?”

           “He asked to write you, didn’t he? That counts for something,” Angelica pressed a kiss to the top of her little sister’s head, “Sleep, ‘Liza. It’s been a long day.”

           The next morning when she heard a squeal, Angelica could have guessed what it was about. Within seconds, Eliza was standing in Angelica’s room, holding out an envelope with ornate handwriting on the outside.

           “He’s written already!” she exclaimed.

           Angelica smiled at her sister’s enthusiasm, “Then what are you doing standing here? Go! Read it and write him back!”

           In a flurry of skirts, Eliza was gone and Angelica didn’t have to smile anymore. The minute she saw the letter in her sister’s hands with her name emblazoned on the front, her heart had broken. He was right. She was never going to be satisfied.

[wrackspurts-in-my-head-writing]

Les Miserables Preference - What They Get You For Christmas

Enjolras - You were a gamine who followed around the Amis with Eponine. You’d been wearing the same boots for years (boots that you stole) and they were several sizes too small with holes eaten into the soles and toes. While Eponine had bonded with Marius and Grantaire, you had bonded with the golden haired leader, as you both had fiery passion for what you loved. At Christmas, the Amis through a party, and they wouldn’t think about not inviting you and Eponine. At the end of the party, Enjolras caught you by the arm and pulled you to the side. He explained that he’d gotten you a gift and he handed you a medium sized unwrapped box. You open to lid to find brand new leather boots, just your size. Tears fill your eyes and you throw your arms around him in a hug, saying your thanks over and over again. The joy in his eyes was a present enough for you.  

Marius - Being the romantic and sentimental person that Marius was, on Christmas morning you were unsurprised to find a beautiful ring. It was just like him to get you fancy jewelry. The added touch that warmed your heart was that the ring held jewels of each of your birthstones, side by side. He had represented your love in a piece of jewelry where you could carry a piece of both of you always.

Grantaire - You always admired Grantaire’s paintings. You could sit for hours and watch as he made stroke after stroke on the canvas. You were thrilled when he presented you with a painting done especially for you as your Christmas gift. You couldn’t stop looking at it and assured him that it would be hanging front and center in your home. 

Courfeyrac - Your husband Courfeyrac was always a little...cheeky. Therefore, you had to laugh out loud when you opened up your Christmas present and it was a new, fancy set of lingerie. Of course, you tried it out right away. 

Combeferre - You and Combeferre were both bookworms and you could spend hours looking through a bookstore. Together you built an impressive home library, but of course, you both had your favorites. When he gave you the rare first edition of your favorite book for Christmas, you were amazed. He knew that books were the way to your heart.