#(more deranged) Is this what Uncle Harry said?

[protect-daniel-james]

Just slip in, why not, Jamie?

I love how Lampardverse is writing itself.

#is this what Franko said to you? #(more deranged) Is this what Uncle Harry said? #lampardverse #jamie jamie cousin jamie

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (21) Fire

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 21)

Summary: Rosie muses about her peculiar family, and gets invited/ordered to come to the pub.

Twenty-One Years Old

My family wasn’t exactly what you would call average or normal, but as Dad and Papa constantly pointed out: who wants normal. Certainly, none of us. Being an only child and without any cousins, I was mostly exposed to adults outside school. By now, I think you can agree that that wasn’t as boring as it sounded.

Uncle Myc made sure that our small family was extended when he and uncle Greg finally realised that what they had was too precious to ignore. 

Papa tried to warn the DI in his normally dramatic flair.

“You know this is playing with fire, Gavin? Falling for a Holmes, means there’s no escape. You’ll be trapped for life, and our love is fierce and protective. A bit like that dragon. John, which film was it?”

“The Hobbit,” Dad answered and reassured uncle Greg that he had nothing to fear. “Deep down, they’re as fluffy as new-born kittens.”

This got him glares that brave men would’ve flinched under, but Dad only laughed and gave Papa a kiss on the forehead and uncle Myc a pat on the shoulder. No one knew how to deal with the Holmes brothers like my Dad.

Of course, this didn’t stop Papa’s attempts to abuse uncle Greg’s name but probably increased it. From that day, every name in the book was put to good use. Dad told him he was being childish, but Dad’s poker face in such matters was laughable at best, so he fooled no one. My uncles just rolled their eyes, knowing that arguing with Papa would accomplish absolutely nothing.

The less said about my aunts, the better, but I’m not exactly one who’s able to keep my mouth shut, am I... 

Aunt Harry, the one who was still alive, just barely, by the state of her liver, according to Dad, another one playing with fire, had never been a part of my life. Just like Papa’s deranged and murderous sister, thank God. Dad gave Harry an ultimatum after we moved to Baker Street; get help to get sober or stay away. It sounds harsh, doesn’t it? I had started school when I learned of her existence. We got an assignment to make a family tree.

“Extended and chosen family can also be included,” our teacher told us.

I had no idea what she was talking about, and neither did my friends, so I turned to my main source of information, my parents.

When Dad told me he had a sister, dozens of questions were instantly on the tip of my tongue, but he cut me off before I could utter any of them.

“She’s only my sister by biology, not by heart. You can put her name on the family tree if you like, but she’s sadly not interested in switching the bottle for family.”

“What Dad means, is that the biological part doesn’t always matter. Chosen and extended family can be just as good, sometimes even better,” Papa explained.

***

I found it comforting when uncle Greg moved in with uncle Myc, because the older I got, the more I worried about uncle Myc’s solitary life. He deserved to be loved by others, not just his family. 

The pair were even more peculiar than Dad and Papa. Dad and uncle Greg were much more similar, coming from the same upbringing and social class, while uncle Myc and Papa were posh gits. (Dad and uncle Greg’s words.) But still, they fitted together, just like Dad and Papa.

And where did that leave me? Somewhere in the middle, I guess. I wasn’t really that exposed to the upper classes. That was uncle Myc’s area. At least in the connection with his job. I had the advantage of being raised by people of both societies, though, so I coped better at posh events than Dad for example. Granny and Pops were quite down-to-earth people, who obviously rose to the occasion if need be.

***

Uncle Myc was unable to deny the love of his life anything, but he drew the line when it came to pub quiz nights. He didn’t budge a millimetre when uncle Greg tried to flatter him into participating.

“Myc, love. You would ensure that my team won the whole shebang. At least when the questions are about politics, language, history, mathematics et cetera.”

“Gregory, mon cher,” uncle Myc said softly and arched an eyebrow.

Uncle Greg admitted defeat and turned to me. I was twenty-one, drank alcohol on occasion, and was above average intelligence. Three good reasons to join the team apparently.

***

“So, do I call you uncle, Greg, or Lestrade?” I inquired before we entered the pub.

“Just avoid Gaylord and Grimmwolf,” he deadpanned.

“Those are his latest then?” I giggled.

“John said he looked up obscure ones online when he’d used up all the names in the book he found among Mary’s things.”

“Sounds like Papa,” I replied.

I had seen the book now and again, but I never knew it once belonged to my mother.

Luckily for everyone involved, Philip Anderson was no longer a part of uncle’s team Division. Sally Donovan was, but she and Papa had long since buried the hatchet, and she welcomed me quite civilly.

Uncle Greg mocked me the entire evening for my choice of drink. 

“Sour beer has nothing to do with beer in my opinion,” he scolded looking disgusted at my pink brew.

“I don’t mind what you call it. Your Guinness looks more like tar than beer to me, so I guess we have to agree to disagree,” I retorted. “Now, do you know the answer to the fifth question or not?”

“You’re a good mix of Watson, Holmes, and yourself,” Sally told me after that.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I said. “Thank you. I take that as a compliment, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. That was the intention. They’re…um…good men and are evidently skilled at parenting. I’ll obviously deny it if I’m ever confronted with this,” she murmured.

Uncle Greg placed another glass of the “undrinkable” beer in front of me and gave Sally’s shoulder a pat.

“Getting sentimental on my, Sally?” he inquired with a smile.

“Hardly,” she scoffed and headed for the bar, but her soft expression gave her game away.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

More tags in the replies

#mayprompts2024 #may 21: fire #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #sally donovan #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

[tealeafgrimm]

Keep Holding On

Remus Lupin x Reader Summary: After the events in Godric's Hollow Y/N tries to come to terms with her new life. In hopes of holding on to the last thing in her past she seeks out a certain someone. Words: 2.4k Warnings: mentions of death, loss, grieve A/N: This is my first time writing anything Harry Potter related. Also English isn't my native language, but I still hope you enjoy it.

This wasn't right. This could not be the end. Not this way. Three of them dead, one a traitor and two broken, betrayed and alone together.

The cold November wind whipped like pinpricks in Y/N's face. She wore a thick coat, gloves, hat and scarf, but made no effort to pull it up further to protect herself against the freezing cold. At least feeling the pain of the cold was better than the numbing feeling of helplessness, despair and tiredness that she had been experiencing over and over again in the last few days.

Godric's Hollow always had been a place of refuge for her. Now Y/N would have given anything to never set foot in this place again. At the same time, she did not want to leave it either. For that would mean accepting what had happened. Lily and James were dead. They were gone. Forever.

Y/N did not know how long she had been standing in the small cemetery looking at the grave. A grave that was not supposed to exist, with engravings that seemed so surreal to her. None of this was right. How could it be that Y/N could remember her first meeting with Lily, the moment when James had gone from being an annoying classmate to a project partner and finally one of her best friends, like it was yesterday? And now they were both gone and she was standing here alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feeling nervous, Y/N closed the door behind her, storing her luggage grunting and groaning, before finally settling down on the bench seat. As of today, her life would change. She was a witch. A real witch! At least that's what it said in the letter that had surprised her and her parents at breakfast a few weeks ago. At first, she had thought it was a bad joke on her parents' part, but upon seeing the surprised faces, she had quickly realized that it wasn't.

Y/N's father had finally explained to her that his great uncle, whom Y/N had never met, had possessed magical abilities as well. There were only a few in the family who knew the truth; most of her relatives thought that the man - whom they often found strange especially in his later years - was mentally deranged.

"The magic must have just skipped a few generations. Maybe Uncle Wilbur scared her off!", Y/N's father had laughed while giving her a hug and congratulating her on the Hogwarts letter. After the initial shock, Y/N's mother had also found the idea of having a witch in the family to be fantastic. "Then you can always help me with the household chores! Maybe you can tidy up like Mary Poppins, just snap your finger and SWISH everything’s gone!"

Since that day, Y/N had lain awake every night imagining the things she would learn, what a magical school would be like and how exciting everything would be. But now, as Y/N sat alone in the train compartment waiting for departure, the excitement felt more like panic. What if she wasn't a witch after all and the school had got it wrong? She had no idea about magic at all, what if everyone else laughed at her? And what if she couldn't make any friends? But this fear was quickly forgotten when the door opened and a red-haired girl of Y/N's age entered the compartment, followed by a black-haired boy.

"Excuse me, are these seats still free? All the others are already taken."

"Oh, yeah, sure, sit down."

"Thank goodness. Come on Severus!" The girl dragged the boy into the compartment, closed the door and sat down opposite Y/N.

"Is it your first year as well? I'm Lily Evans and this is Severus Snape." Y/N could feel the tension easing off her. They were first years, like her, and at least Lily seemed like she wouldn't turn down a friendship. However, the same could not necessarily be said for the boy, Severus.

"Yes, I am in a first year, too. Pretty exciting, isn't it? I didn't know anything about all this until a few weeks ago! I'm Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you." The two girls shook hands and after a side nudge from Lily, Severus extended his hand to Y/N as well.

"I grew up with muggles too. Severus has told me some things, but I don't really know what to expect either."

Knowing that she was not the only one without prior experience calmed Y/N's nerves immensely. Unbeknownst to them, the foundation of a lasting friendship between Lily and Y/N was laid in that moment. And after the talking hat put them both in Gryffindor, the girls were almost inseparable. Until now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I welcome everyone back for fifth year Potions! Starting today, we will work towards preparing you for your O.W.L.s."

Y/N grimaced. Just thinking about the exams made her feel sick. Potions was definitely not her forte. She was lucky to be sitting next to Lily so she could see everything, otherwise the classroom would probably have blown up several times already.

"Since I've noticed that some of you are starting to rely too much on your partners' work," Y/N had the dull feeling Slughorn's eyes rested on her for just a moment longer, "I've taken the liberty of putting together new pairs." And with that, the chaos ensued. Not that Y/N necessarily had anything against her classmates, but the very thought of brewing a potion without Lily's instructions made her break out in a cold sweat.

Her plea for a chance to work together with Severus was not heard either. Instead, Y/N found herself at the back table with a grinning James Potter.

"I would have preferred Evans, but at least your grades are better than mine!" That her grades had only been good because of her seatmate was something James soon had to painfully realize himself. After only half an hour, their shared cauldron was overflowing so much - after a false addition on the part of Y/N - that James had no time left to escape. Angry blisters on both hands were the result.

The following lessons didn't particularly get any better. As it turned out, James didn't have much of a talent for potions either, or he just wasn't trying. By the fourth week, the two had managed to make their concoction, which should have been a translucent light pink, steam and smoke so much that the entire dungeon floor had to be evacuated for several hours.

"Maybe we should just give up on sticking to the guidelines and instead try to find out what other useful side effects we can produce. That potion would be great if you were in trouble and needed a quick distraction to disappear," James had told Y/N with a wink.

That is how Y/N finally started to help James and the rest of his troupe with their pranks. It was becoming more and more common for the five of them to sit in the library looking for ways to "improve" their potions. For the first two years Y/N had thought that James and Sirius in particular, were just two idiots and troublemakers. With every passing minute, however, she realized that the two of them were geniuses in secret. Remus complemented the troupe with his calm and considered manner and had probably been the only reason no one had died as a result of their 'attacks'. How Peter fitted in had never quite become clear to Y/N, and yet they all worked together.

Lily's enthusiasm regarding Y/N's friendship with the Marauders had been somewhat reserved at the beginning. It was no secret that she wasn't too fond of James and Sirius. In part because of their attacks on Snape. And yet, eventually, Lily became part of the group too. Six against the world. Forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever. That's how it should have been, and yet Y/N was alone. A tear ran down her reddened cheek. Hastily, Y/N wiped it away. How could she still have tears to shed? Shouldn't she have run dry by now?

Then, with one last look at the eternal resting place of her friends and a deep sigh, Y/N turned and left the cemetery. In the streets, people hurried from their cars into houses and shops to escape the November weather. Children laughed and threw snowballs at each other. How could everything keep up the pretense that nothing had changed, that their lives had not been turned completely upside down?

Reaching a quiet side alley and with a glance over her shoulder, Y/N apparated. The small house, if you could call it that, looked even shabbier than usual. Whether it was due to the weather or Y/N's emotions, she could not tell.

For weeks now she had been trying to reach Remus. But every owl she had sent had come back without an answer. Attempts by other Order members to contact him had also been unsuccessful. 'He just needs more time,' Y/N had told herself over and over again. But she couldn't stand the wait any longer. Remus was the only person she had left. The only one who knew how she felt. Betrayed, abandoned...empty. This morning, Y/N had made the decision to visit him and not leave until she had at least seen him in person.

Heart racing, Y/N knocked on the door. Silence. No footsteps, no voice. Nothing to indicate that there was anything moving inside. She knocked again. Once. Twice. This time Y/N would not give up. She knew he was there. He HAD to be there. Where else would he be? Even after several more attempts, nothing changed. The door remained locked.

"Remus, please. I know you're there! I don't want to lose you too!" Y/N spoke the last sentence in such a low and broken voice that she herself was not sure she had actually said it.

More silence and then after a few seconds, which felt more like hours, she heard a soft click and the door opened just a crack.

"Remus?" Hesitantly, Y/N opened the door and stepped inside.

The living room was pure chaos. Remus had always been the most organized and neatest out of the four boys. There was no sign of that now.

Clothes and dishes were scattered everywhere. The air was stuffy and testified to the fact that the door and the windows had hardly been opened in the last few weeks.

Seated on the small, shabby sofa was Remus. Y/N had often visited him in the hospital wing after his transformation. As such, a frazzled, ill-looking Remus was nothing new. But like this? Y/N had never seen him like this before. His skin looked sallow, pale and sunken. His eyes were red and underlined by deep circles. He looked at Y/N rigidly and without expression.

How long had she been waiting for this moment? Waiting to see her only surviving friend again and to embrace him? To feel that she was not alone? That she still had Remus? But now, standing in the same room with him, seeing him so broken, she wished she'd never come here. What could she say? Nothing, absolutely nothing she was going to say could improve the situation, change the brutal reality of the past month.

She did not notice that she was walking towards him. Only when she heard a crunch and felt something break under her shoes did she realized she was crossing the small room. Y/N saw that there was a picture frame on the floor. Obviously, Remus had thrown it in a fit of anger, frustration and sadness. Not until now did she notice that several photos, pictures and mementos, were strewn wildly across the floor. Y/N picked up the picture frame and looked at the photo: Sirius and Remus, about to graduate. Her stomach twisted. Had they really been so wrong about Sirius? How could they not have realized what he really was? She could not and would not look at Sirius' face any longer. She placed the picture upside down on the dining room table.

"It's my fault. Everything is my fault." His voice sounded so hoarse and foreign that Y/N would never have recognized it as Remus' if she hadn't known it was just him and her in this room. Y/N sat down beside him and shook her head.

"I should have seen it! We knew someone was leaking information to the outside! How could I have been so blind?" Remus pulled at his hair, propped his hands on his knees and began to cry. Y/N noticed the familiar lump forming in her throat too.

"Remus...you...you're not to blame for anything. We were all wrong about him." She knew it was a weak attempt at comfort. Y/N knew the feeling of guilt all too well, knew what it felt like. And yet she also knew that Sirius was solely responsible for her friends' deaths. Remus lifted his head and dropped his hands. Sobbing, he nodded his head weakly. In situations like this, Y/N wished she had Lily's talent and skill. Lily would have known what to say. It was always Lily who could see the positive, who knew how to comfort others. Y/N didn't know how to, but she wanted to try. That was why she came here. For Remus. For herself.

Slowly she put a hand on Remus' shoulder, to show that she was there for him. And, honestly, to remind herself that he was really sitting next to her and not just a figment of her frazzled brain.

Y/N felt his muscles tense and was about to pull her hand back when Remus hugged her, pulling her to him. She felt his tears on her shoulder, hugged him as tightly as she could and began to cry as well.

The two sat on the sofa letting their emotions pour out. The tension of the last weeks, the lost friendships, the shared memories, the shared loss, everything seemed to pour out of them at once. At some point they both became quiet. No more tears for the moment. Remus loosened his embrace and for the first time since she had entered his house, looked properly at Y/N. Under other circumstances, his penetrating gaze would certainly have made her uncomfortable; now she wished he would never look away again.

"How do we go from here?" asked Remus after a long period of silence. She had asked herself the same question countless times.

"Honestly? I... don’t know. But whatever comes next, whatever happens, we'll do it together. Okay?" Y/N took his hand into hers and looked at Remus with raised eyebrows.

"Together," he replied with a nod of his head and squeezed her hand.

For the first time since that awful night, in that moment, Y/N felt emotions she thought she would never be able to feel again.

Joy, hope, love.

#harry potter #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #marauders era #lily evans #james potter #sirius black #one shot #comfort #reader imagine #remus lupin x y/n #lily evans x you #lily evans x reader #lily evans x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #harry potter series

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

31. Would you come back to me?

Prompt used- doing a pinky promise. This post have been inspired by one of @drarry-is-my-therapy recent reblog and one of @fqirycircle drawing, which is absolutely amazing. TW- ANGST | HURT/COMFORT | Harry's heart had always belonged to the boy by the lake.

" dad" Albus said as he watched his father cleaning off the used utensils

" yea " harry replied looking over his shoulder to his son sitting behind the kitchen table.

" I- I was talking with mom the other day and she told me something " Albus nervously said

" oh yeah, what'd she tell ?" Harry chuckled

" why you guy's really separated " Albus replied. Harry stopped dead for a moment looking blankly at the utensils until he resumed washing, not replying anything yet.

Once done, harry wiped off his hands over his apron, handing Albus the cold coffee he had just brewed, taking one for himself, he sat down in front of Albus with a curious smile.

" so what'd she tell you ?"

" well- she doesn't want me talking to you about these things but I- think I'm big enough to know these things now, don't you think ?" He nervously asked once again.

" well- albus I think you are " harry gave albus a friendly frown and with that Albus immediately loosened up, giving harry a genuine smile.

" so what did she tell you ?" He asked once again pointing Albus to drink his cold coffee.

" well- she told me- that you guys didn't love each other " Albus said

" I do love your mom Albus-"

" just not the same way, right ?" Albus asked. Biting the inside of his cheek harry deliberated whether he should actually let Albus know or not, until he did, knowing if he were where Albus was, he'd want to know too.

Harry nodded hesitantly.

" but you guys seemed to love each other so much? Like all the things you did, I mean i don't get it how could you just fall out of love you know ?" Albus asked a little irritated by the fact that his parents had actually fallen out of love. Harry is suddenly strongly reminded of a very Vivid situation, the situation he'd been so familiar with.

" Albus- I think what you're trying to say is that we Always cared for each other. We often confuse love with care. At much later part of our marriage, before separation we had almost forgotten what was it like to love each other and simply cared for one another" harry explained.

Albus clenched looking at his father, " so you're saying one day we eventually fall out of love ?"

" what- no- Albus, no that's not what happened- hell " harry immediately responded.

" then what happened ?" Albus aggressively asked

" it's- it's just more complicated than it seems Albus but I want you to know that love is real, alright. Just because your parents didn't work out doesn't mean love cannot exists, look at your uncle Ron and aunt Hermione, I've rarely ever seen love like that and hell I can't even tell you how much time they had spent crushing desperately over each other for years. We're sorry- really for setting such a bad example but we're not perfect, nobody is. It's simply is we couldn't make it work and we regret it " harry sighed pushing his hair back from falling over his face.

Albus shoulder slumped down a bits, staring at the water ring on his coaster absent mindedly.

" just say it albus. Don't keep it in " harry encouraged knowing his son was deliberating about saying something.

Albus looked up at harry strangely, a look he had never looked at him with ever before, " she said- that you- you've never truly loved her. She said even though you loved her but a part of your heart Always belonged to someone else "

And everything stopped. Harry's breath caught in his throat, his hand stilled in the air, even his hair on his forehead became still. He was shook Ginny had told him something like that. It wasn't as if harry wasn't ever prepared for such conversations but the way it had twisted into something, it was unpredictable and he found it hard to focus on one thing.

" is it true dad ? That you loved someone else too ?" Albus contemplated nervously.

Harry looked up at albus, not realising when had he ever leant down and cleared his throat to gain his voice back.

" I never cheated alb-"

" I know. She knows that but she says she knew that you Always have loved Someone else too " Albus bit his lip nervously hoping he hadn't offended harry by saying something so personal.

" i- I never thought she'd actually tell you this" harry eyes widened in surprise as he cleared his throat once again.

" w- I shouldn't have bought this up- this is just-"

" hey hey, it's fine- you said you're big enough to know these things now- well then " harry interjected nervously " she's right. I- my heart as she put it, one part of it has always belonged to someone else " harry sighed closing his eyes, glimpsing back in his memories of that one Particular person.

" oh- who ?" He asked curiously

Harry raised his eyebrows, chuckling nervously, not believing it even for a second that he is infact about have this conversation.

" someone" he finally replied.

And with that harry is brought back into his memories from years ago, that one person's laughter resonating in his head, that one smile which was only reserved for him, that voice which echoed in his head every night, as if it was calling harry to it but just as he reached the bottom, there would be another bottom and he would be stuck. Everyday. And as harry started to finally tell Albus about his first love, he flows into his memory of the last day of 5th year after harry had recently lost Sirius and was extremely vulnerable, around the black lake away from everyone, in just his own little bubble with him.

The lake reflected with the red and yellow light of the dropping sun from across the mountain and a faint breeze drying Harry's face covered with tears. He has someone's arms around his shoulder, cooing him, reminding him one day everything would finally be fine but he didn't had it in him to even understand what he was saying. He was crying, heavily breathing because of the heart clenching pain, the void in his heart which had finally filled had now grown bigger, how was anything ever supposed to be fine..

" we need to end this " harry abruptly said

" what ?" He asked confused by Harry's sudden outrage with something complete nuisance.

" we can't- I can't keep doing this " harry replied numbly

" wha- why not ?" He asked furrowing his eyebrows, feeling slightly hurt by such abysmal suggestion.

" don't you see, I lose everyone one day and I- I can't- I don't want to deliberately lose you " harry replied looking at him.

He frowned " you're not losing me harry-"

" then will I not ?" They had never talked about future, only because it remained so uncertain that they hated the idea of future

" no- you will not " he replied

" and you are absolutely 100 percent sure ? Isn't there a possibility someone would find out about us and it'll spread like a wildfire and everyone would desperately try to separate us !" Harry exclaimed

" okay harry- first calm down. Nobody have found out about us in the last one year, it seems highly unlikely someone would-"

" voldemort knows " and suddenly both of their breaths came to a halt. One word and everything they owned collapsed onto the ground as if it was the fragile chandelier hanging on the top of a broken roof.

" how-"

" he can see in my head. We can't keep doing this-"

" then we fight-"

" I'll fight- can you ?"

And there was silence. He wanted to respond that he would but he didn't trust the world, even if he trusted himself. He hated the world. He was weak, fragile and in a fight against the world, he knew he'd always lose, over and over.

" we are on opposite sides of war. Voldemort's came out. He'll be rebuilding his army. Everything is going to change. Even us" harry tried to explain without wanting to break down. This was the first time harry after sirius had sensibly talked but it was self preservation speaking for him, he couldn't afford to lose someone he really loves, once again. For once he wanted to protect his heart, he couldn't roll it over his sleeves when his sleeves were covered with thorns. It would be a death call and he couldn't give in, just yet.

" you and I- people like us don't belong together. The world will never understand us and this is the first fight we'd lose. I want this but it's going to be difficult. We can't be together as Long as we are on opposite sides-"

"Then I'll be on your side- "

" you are " harry responded giving a weak smile

" but I belong on the other side" he replied looking far ahead over the lake as if the realisation had finally dawned upon him. Something he had always known but had now slapped him right in the face.

"yes " harry replied looking at him, Saving in his memories the last time what he really looked like, his smile, his long lashes, his crooked nose, his pale skin, his tinted cheeks, his soft ears, his soft hair, his storm filled eyes, his pink plumped lips he had kissed so often. Saving it away for one day what it would look like in a pensieve.

" we knew what we were getting into but we took the risk nevertheless. It was a deranged path and we knew it from the beginning " harry softly said clutching other man's fingers with his own.

He didn't reply, he just longingly stared at the waters, as if he was remembering them not harry.

" so we give up ?" He finally asked turning to harry with unseen part of his face wet with tears. Harry reached forward wiping away his tear but they didn't stop, they only flooded more with Harry's touch.

" no, we- we promise to come back once again after all this is over" harry smiled softly.

" and you believe there will be coming back after all ? What if one of us- dies " he hesitated In fear of only imagining it.

Harry started at him knowing it was one of the possibilities but wasn't ready for such thing. It was a huge possibility that one day harry might lose " I have hope for us " harry suddenly spoke out loud. The thoughts In his mind had unknowningly reached his lips and there wasn't a going back from that.

The other man stared at harry long enough, he too concealing this part of him for that one day they'd meet again.

" promise me then if we make it through, we'll come back to each other " he asked, his voice sounding not more than a quivering sound.

" I promise that If I make it through one day, we'll meet again and come back to each other" harry replied

" pinky promise ?" He smiled.

Harry chuckled, then nodded

" do you promise ?"

" I promise "

" what happened then ? How'd you wind up with mom ?" Albus asked curiously, a faint yellow light from the evening bouncing over his brunette head.

" did he- die ?" Albus asked almost heart broken

" what- no " harry chuckled

" then what happened ?" Albus asked again

" he- broke the promise. We belonged to someone else much before we could've even belonged to each other. When I met him after the war and his probation, he had changed completely " harry replied reminiscing about the specific day

" then didn't you ever ask him again ?" Albus asked almost jumping off his chair.

Harry gave a small smile " I couldn't "

" but why- what if he had still loved you ?" Albus asked

" as I said he was completely changed. He wasn't the man I fell in love with. He never asked either. It died out over time. Besides I'm pretty sure he had already forgotten about it. Also I think he was engaged by the time we met again, it didn't make sense" harry replied

" then didn't you ever like try to stop his wedding like In those romantic comedies mum watches ?" Albus asked excitedly

Harry laughed picking up their glasses and going over to the sink " she's always loved them. You've got to stop watching them if that's what you're cooking in your head Albus. Real love Is different than what they show, it's not just one fight and making it up. Its so much efforts, fights, pain, drama and so many other things"

" but If it's the right person, it'd never feel like that would it ? If you really love someone then those fights wouldn't be so bad or there wouldn't be pain or drama. It'd be a happy relationship, wouldn't it ?" And in that small sentence albus has unknowningly managed to define true love.

Harry looked at his now grown up son, crossing his arms smiling impressively. And nodded.

Albus sighed in relief, slumping down in his chair. Harry quizzically analysed Albus until his expressions changed to sometimes brief.

" who is it?" Harry asked knowingly

" what?" Albus blushed

" who's this person you're suddenly relating everything to ?" Harry teased poking Albus Playfully.

" there is no one dad" Albus blushed embarassed, jumping off the chair, taking a few steps back.

" come on- I told you my story. I atleast deserve to know who it is " harry smirked crossing his arms in front of him

Albus sighed rolling his eyes" he's from school"

" ooh, someone from school. Like father like son" harry teased

" dadd " Albus whined blushing

" okay- fine, fine. Who is it then ?" Harry asked giving up with the teasing.

" it doesn't matter, he doesn't like me " Albus sighed crossing his arms in front of him in disappointment.

Harry carefully analysed Albus's face again, remembering exactly the same way he felt "it's the Malfoy kid, isn't it ?"

Albus's eyes suddenly shot up in surprise.

" how did you-"

" you're my son. Of course I'd know" harry sighed uncrossing his arms and stepping forward and placing them in the kitchen table, leaning forward.

" don't make the same mistakes I did. Ask him out. Write to him maybe. I'm sure he'd agree " harry suggested.

" mistake ? What mistake did you make ?" Albus asked curiously.

Harry gave him a firm smile before he putting his hands away from the table to his sides " it's a story for some other day, your mom is gonna be here to pick you up in an hour. Do your stuff and we'll talk about it next week? What say ?"

Albus frowned before letting go and nodding.

" one last question dad "

" shoot" harry said as he started washing those used cups again

" did you ever love mom as much as you loved that someone ?"

Harry smiled this time not stopping " I- love like that happened only once. I loved your mom a different way. I loved him a different way "

" but who'd you love more then?"

Harry turned around to see Albus standing there leaning over the kitchen table curiously " I will not answer that. Now enough with my love life. Go do your homework " harry said a little sternly in his father like adamant voice.

Sighing Albus gave up.

" okay, just one question, I promise " Albus plead again. Harry sighed before nodding.

" if now he came back in your life and asks you for a second chance, would you go back to him ?"

Harry smiled Shaking his head" yes- yes I would "

The next week when Albus came back for the stay, he seemed far excited than anything else. As soon as Ginny had left, Albus squealed.

" whoa there squirrel, what's got your knickers in a twist ?" Harry chuckled

" I've got an invitation. Can we please go to scropius's place. He offered for a while. I'll promise we can come back and do homework, he really wants me to see his collections. Can we please dad, please ?" Albus gave harry his puppy eyes in desperation..

Harry sighed before nodding.

" for an hour.. "

And with that after an hour, they flooed to scropius's place. The Malfoy manor.

They were recieved with a rather very pleasant place. It was no longer a dark, submerged place, it had been refurbished with mostly white and brown. It seemed like an entirely new place. Not one part of Malfoy manor looked like what it did ages ago ,and yet harry liked it better. It was welcoming. And just then he walked in, with scropius.

" potter "

" Malfoy" harry sternly nodded at Draco, losing himself again in that brief reminiscents of the past. He hadn't changed even a little bit as he remembered him from the day by the lake, yet everything had changed. Everything.

" we're gonna go " Albus didn't even wait and ran off with scropius, leaving harry and draco alone, both staring at each other thinking how the other had forgotten of the promise..

( I've really been writing shit lately. Anyways hope you liked this one, I'd been very excited for this one but It haven't turned out as good as I wanted to, so .. )

Requests open

Part 2 & 3

Day 30- scared, potter | Day 32- reasons not to be in love with Draco malfoy by Harry

#drarry #harry potter #drarry incorrect quotes #draco x harry #hp fandom #harry james potter #drarry prompt #harry potter fanfiction #draco is gay #draco malfoy #drarry incorrect posts #drarry angst #drarry ao3 #drarry au #drarry headcanon #drarry fluff #drarry fic rec #drarry fic idea #drarry fic #drarry ficlet #drarry oneshot #drarry ship #drarry squad #drarry stuff #drarry hurt comfort #harry potter fic #harry potter au #scorpius malfoy x albus potter #harry x draco #draco lucius malfoy

[awritingtree]

Never Enough (3/7)

Sirius Black x daughter!reader

Summary: Arriving at the Department of Mysteries did not turn out as Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Luna, Neville and Y/N Black had predicted. With Death Eaters trying to steal a prophecy, what happens when the Order arrives and everything begins to spiral down?

Words: ~1.9k

Warnings: shitty father-daughter relationship, violence, torture, injury, 

A/N: Well this took a proper while to post. Watch the next part test your patience even more ;) but it’ll be worth it, I have great plans for it. Phrases I used a million times: you, dark, pain - I got tired of the words by the end of this fic. Every time I typed ‘orb’ I remembered @approved-by-dentists​. ORBS. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this xx

Series Masterlist

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“Very good, Potter. Now turn around and give that to me, nice and slowly.”

Black figures emerged out of the shadows. Eyes were the only things to be seen from under the hoods, wands pointed at you all blocking the way to escape from every direction.

“Uncle Lucius?” you asked at the time as Harry, “Where’s Sirius?”

Lucius Malfoy looked at you, failing to hide the surprise on his face. He was expecting the rest of Potter’s friends to be there along with him, but not you.

“Where’s Sirius?” Harry asked again, the panic rising within him. “You’ve got him. I know he’s here.”

“It’s time you learnt the difference between dreams and reality. You saw what the Dark Lord wanted you to see,” Lucius said, looking away from you to concentrate back on what he came here for.

You were pointing your own wand at the figure nearest to you. You didn’t know what you were expecting when you came here, but it certainly was not this. You were panicking. Your clammy hands were shaking; you couldn’t take on Death Eaters, none of you could. Cold sweat dripped down your forehead, matting your hair against it. You tightened your grip on your wand as it started to slip.

“Not yet-” you heard Harry mutter.

A voice cackled in the dark, “You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!”

“Oh, you don’t know Potter as I do Bellatrix,” said Malfoy softly, “He has great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this.”

You felt Neville tense up next to you as Bellatrix Lestrange walked into the light, a malicious grin on her face. Her black, curly hair was wild and unkept - making her look deranged.

“You’ve got him, I know he’s here,” said Harry adamantly.

“Give me the prophecy, or we start using wands,” ordered Malfoy causing you to take a huge gulp.

“Go on then,” challenged Harry, raising his wand up to chest level; Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna doing the same.

“Do anything to us and I’ll break it.”

“He knows how to play! Itty, Bitty, Baby. Potter,” said Bellatrix, her cold, empty eyes staring through the slits in her hood.

“Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt,” said Lucius coolly.

You noticed the Death Eaters were slowly closing in, moving so slowly and quietly, behaving like shadows in the dark. It wasn’t noticeable unless one was really paying attention, which you were. You were wrenched out of the focus on one of the Death Eaters in front of you as Bellatrix Lestrange shouted, “YOU FILTHY HALF BLOOD!”

“Why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?”

You didn’t hear them reply for Neville nudged you on your side, “Smash shelves on mark,” he whispered discreetly.

“So he’s got you doing his dirty for him, has he?” continued Harry, “He tried to get Strurgis to steal it - and Bode?”

“Very good, Potter,” Malfoy said slowly, “But the Dark Lord knows-”

“NOW!” yelled Harry.

Seven voices chorused “REDUCTO!” The curse flew in seven directions, hitting the glass spheres on the towering shelves. Voices echoed through the vast room amidst the glass shattering and wood splinting onto the floor.

“RUN!” you heard Harry bellow before you took off with Ron, Ginny and Luna.

You covered your head protecting it from the falling orbs and spells flying by. Death Eaters were chasing after you, throwing spells and all they had into capturing any one of you.

“Petrificus Totalus!” you shouted, throwing a spell behind you without looking. It had successfully hit someone judging by the thud that followed.

“There! Through that door!” Ron yelled over the noise, pointing to a door right ahead of you.

You all picked up your pace. Luna ran through the door first followed by Ginny. You’d almost made it, ducking spells being thrown left and right, when you felt a spell collide with your back throwing you face first against the floor.

“Y/N!” you heard before blacking out.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The first thing you felt was pain. Pain, pain, and more pain. Your head was throbbing, feeling like it was going to split open from the pain’s intensity. You slowly opened your eyes, having to blink a few times before they could focus on your surroundings. You groaned, sitting up, reaching a hand to the back of your head, hoping some pressure would relieve the stabbing ache. You glanced around and recognized the Brain Room you all had previously found when you’d been looking for the Glass Orb Room. You could see Ginny laying a bit away from you, knocked out. You could see Luna a distance away near a desk and what seemed to be Hermione, both unconscious as well. Ron was giggling like a barmy man, fighting what looked like a brain? You steadily stood up and took a step forward wobbling slightly. The pain in your head increased at the motion of walking, but you ignored it; Harry was nowhere to be seen and you’d just glimpsed Neville running through a doorway. You picked up your wand from the ground and made your way towards the shouts coming from the other room, trying to prepare yourself for what was waiting once you passed the threshold.

You saw one of the Death Eaters roughly grab Neville as you entered the room. There were several Death Eaters, you observed. Harry was standing on the dais, upon which was the stone archway, still holding the glass orb with Voldemort’s and his name on it. You stealthily started to make your way down the steps, hoping no one would look your way or hear you which sounded to be possible because of their obnoxious laughs and taunts.

“No, no, no,” said Bellatrix excitedly looking at Neville, “Let’s see how Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents… unless Potter wants to give us the prophecy.”

Your eyes widened at her suggestion, knowing exactly what she meant. You rushed down the stairs, the sound of your feet stomping against the stone stairs masked over by Neville roaring, “DON’D GIB ID DO DEM. DON’D GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!”

Bellatrix approached Neville, raising her wand as you had reached the foot of the staircase continuing to run towards him. You jumped in the way at the precise moment.

“Crucio!”

All you felt was pain. Agonizing pain. The pain from your head before was nothing compared to what you were feeling now. Your body felt on fire from the inside-out. It felt as if you were being stabbed by scorching knives at every inch of your body. An ear-splitting scream left your throat. It hurt, it hurt so bad. You wanted it to end. You wanted it all to end; it was too much to endure. Your body twitched and thrashed around, bruising your already injured body further. You could hear Neville and Harry shouting for Bellatrix to stop as she laughed pleasurably. The pain seemed to last a lifetime before the spell was lifted off. You laid there on the cold stone floor, breathing heavily as you let out small whimpers. The pain and soreness still there as an aftermath of what had just occurred.

“That was just a taster my dear niece,” you made out Bellatrix speaking as you laid there, tears streaming down your face. “Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch both your little friends die the hard way!”

Suddenly, figures started to appear. ‘More Death Eaters,’ you thought frightened, willing yourself to move and stand up - get yourself and Neville away from the coming danger. You pushed through the pain, forcing yourself up. Your body was shaking underneath its own weight. A hand quickly wound itself around your waist, helping you stay upright. You looked to the side to see Neville.

“Are you okay?” Harry yelled over the chaos. You finally looked around surprised but relieved; the familiar faces of Dora, Moody, Kingsley, Remus and your father helping ease the pain a bit - help was here.

“Yes,” said Neville.

“And Ron?”

“I dink he’s all righd- he was still fighting de brain when I lefd-”

The floor between them exploded. You were thrown to one side of the room and thankfully this time, you didn’t injure yourself. You leaned against the tier and pushed yourself up. Somehow, miraculously, you still had your wand with you. You saw Dora duelling with Bellatrix, your father duelling a Death Eater as Kingsley fought off two. You limped your way to help Kingsley; you wouldn’t be able to do much against a skilled dueller, but little help was better than none. Just as you were about to reach Kingsley, you saw a jet of green light fly past in the corner of your eyes and Dora falling down from the stone stairs. Bellatrix had triumphantly moved on to duelling with another Order member as you stood frozen to the spot, coming to think the worst. You wanted to go check on her; anything other than stand there as your mind came up with the worst-case scenarios but it was as if you were paralyzed - unable to move or comprehend anything other than Dora’s limp body in the line of your vision.

The sound of Lupin shouting snapped you back to reality, “Harry, round up the others and go! Take Y/N with you!”

You spun around towards Harry’s direction who was already staring in your direction. He nudged his head towards the door you had entered from, indicating to get a move on. You nodded weakly, stumbling over your feet as you started to walk towards him and away from Dora’s body. All you could do was hope she was alright; knowing you had to get out of here or she would kill you when she found you’d acted stupidly and stayed in the middle of this chaos only to check up on her. It was extremely difficult for you not to run to her, she was your sister - but you knew you couldn't, not if you wanted to make it out alive of this situation to give her a piece of your mind yourself.

You were by the dais now upon which your father continued to duel Bellatrix. He was standing close to the stone archway, gradually inching towards it without noticing. He was laughing at Bellatrix, ducking her spells. You didn’t know when you had changed your course but suddenly realized you were standing only a mere few feet away from their duel.

“Come on, you can do better than that!” his voice echoed through the room.

You didn’t know when you had broken out into a sprint - where the rush of energy had come from, only Salazar knows. You didn’t know when you reached your father and pushed him. You didn’t see Dumbledore arriving, furious and ready to take some Death Eaters down. Nor did you see Remus and Harry running in your direction, terrified. You didn’t hear Bellatrix cry out in anger or your own yell, “DAD!”.

The only thing you did realize was the spell heading towards your father, one that could’ve been fatal.

The only thing you did hear was the yells of your father, godfather, and godbrother before everything went dark.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @remmyswritings @angelinathebook @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes @kinkyduuh @ickle-ronniekins @the-mighty-bookworm

Never Enough taglist: @evilluciferisevil @slyther-inn @bloodyxheaven @gcdric @mycobrakai1972 @loony-loopy-lupinn @mads-bri @tessaem @hannah220506 @hariosborn @kpopgirlbtssvt @xapham

Lmk if you want to be added to either taglist :)

#sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x y/n #sirius #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #black family #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter marauders #marauders #marauders fic #golden trio era #hp #hp imagine #hp fic #hp fanfic #harry potter imagines #hp imagines #bellatrix lestrange #lord voldemort #lucius malfoy #nymphadora tonks #remus lupin #mad eye moody

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Second Chance 7

Harry Potter AU 

Pairings: Sirius Black x Reader 

Link to Chapter 6 

Rating: M 

_____

After Matilda walked out of the room, no one said anything for a moment. Both Sirius and yourself looked at each other doing a silent game of “rock paper scissors” to see who was going to go deal with the girl. Remus was the first to look up. He rolled his eyes knowing what the two of you were going.

“I’ll go talk to her.”

Remus said, softly before muttering “look at you two scared of a little girl.” Sirius scowled at his friend before turning back to you.

“How are you feeling?”

You put down your teacup with a frown.

“You just asked me that a few moments ago.”

Sirius held his hands up.

“Forgive me for wanting to make sure that you were alright.”

You sighed, trying to keep in mind that Sirius was only caring for you. The man was probably as on edge as you were.

“I’m sorry. I’m feeling okay. Just really tired and now I’m afraid of how our daughter is taking this.”

Sirius’ dark eyes fluttered to the stairs in case Matilda had some change of heart and wanted to talk. When she didn’t appear, Sirius’ attention turned back to you.

“Tilley will be fine, love. I’m sure this is just a bit of a shock. Hell, I was shocked too. I’m okay now though. Harry doesn’t seem too concerned.”

Harry looked up from his dinner. He had decided to keep his two cents to himself. Other than saying a congratulatory message, Harry’s concern was calming Matilda down later.

“I see where Matilda is worried but at the same time maybe this will be for the best.”

You smiled at your godson. That was a James Potter-like answer if you had ever heard one. Sirius seemed to be as impressed as you.

“I think it's a perfect time too.”

Sirius said, leaning back in his chair with a smile. Did he really think that it was a perfect time to be having another baby, hell no. The better question was, did you have to know what he was actually thinking? No. Sirius could sit there and wonder if he was batshit insane peacefully in his head.

(meanwhile)

Remus stepped into the next room where Matilda sat looking out the window.

“Matilda, I think it's time for one of our famous uncle to niece talks.”

Matilda turned around with a frown that resembled Sirius so much that if Remus didn’t know better; he would have thought Sirius had turned into a girl.

“Remus, tell me that what they are doing is crazy.”

Remus nodded and sat down.

“In ways. It was crazy where your mom got pregnant with you but that turned out fine.”

Matilda frowned.

“Dad got locked up for 13 years. What about that is fine?”

Remus sighed and took one of her hands in his.

“Nothing is fine about it. I know that you don’t feel very strongly about this and that is okay. Your parents, however, are happy. Don’t they deserve one little bit of happiness in their lives?”

Matilda was silent for a moment. She had to agree about that one thing. Sirius and yourself did deserve some happiness. Both of your existences had been gloomy.

“You’re right.”

Remus gently patted Matilda’s face.

“Good, Now go get ready for bed.”

When Matilda walked into the bedroom that she was sharing with Harry; he looked up from the book that he was reading.

“All good?”

Matilda sat down in a huff.

“I will be. I still think mum and dad are nuts. Harry, I was thinking about that bar and Greyback. I am thinking about sneaking out and going back there. If Bellatrix isn’t there I really think that I could get the man locked up.”

Harry immediately shook his head.

“Matilda, no. We can’t go back to that bar. We promised...besides...there is something about that idea that has suicide all over it. This is like you breaking into Malfoy Manor and just to call Lucius Malfoy Tgiant Malibu Barbie.”

Matilda looked pleased that Harry remembered her special name for Draco’s father. Harry shook his head.

“Promise me that you won’t go back to that bar. Something isn’t right.”

Matilda rolled her eyes before muttering a quiet “I promise.”

(later that night…)

Harry woke up to a loud clap of thunder. He reached over for his glasses with a yawn. Deciding it was time for a glass of water.

Slipping out of bed, Harry’s attention turned to Matilda’s bed. He froze seeing the bed empty and her nightgown laying on the foot of the bed.

“Matilda, no.”

Harry muttered before running out of the bedroom and down the stairs. After checking multiple rooms, Harry ran into the sitting room where you sat reading a book. You gave him a sweet smile.

“Harry, dear, are you alright?”

You asked, softly. Harry shook his head as Sirius walked in.

“Matilda...I think she snuck out. She said something about going after Greyback again. She isn’t upstairs.”

Your mouth dropped as Sirius turned and ran up the stairs to make sure Harry wasn’t having some nightmare.

“Are you sure, Harry?”

You asked as you quickly stood and went in search of your sweater. Remus, hearing all of the noise, came out of his room looking confused.

“What’s wrong?”

You were trembling as Sirius came back looking paler than normal.

“Please tell me she is upstairs.”

You said your voice breaking. Sirius shook his head.

“I wish that I could...we better get going, love.”

Remus, who had been quickly filled in by Harry, went after his best friend.

“Sirius, we need to make a plan. We can’t just go in there ready to kill.”

Sirius turned back with an expression on his face that made Remus step back. The look in his eyes was nothing short of crazed.

“This is my baby that we are talking about. I don’t mind killing someone for her. Either come with me or stay behind.”

When your hand intertwined with his, Sirius stopped the neurotic death march that he was on. Sirius froze. He took a few deep breaths before looking down at your tear-streaked face.

“Y/n, sweetheart, I want you to stay here. Stay here with Harry. If you or the baby gets hurt...I won’t…”

You shook your head. If Sirius thought that you were going to let him go after Matilda on his own then he was really stark raving mad.

“Sirius, our daughter is in danger. I am not about to let you do this on your own. We can argue over sexism later.

Arriving back at the shabby bar neither Sirius nor yourself was thinking rationally any long. Both of you were seeing red. If something happened to your daughter, you would never forgive yourself. Sirius was the first to reach the door. He didn’t even bother opening it instead he kicked it open.

Storming into the room, your heart froze seeing Matilda with her wand pointed right at Greyback. The werewolf looked a bit surprised, however, he regained his cocky demeanor quickly. He grinned at Sirius, Remus, and yourself.

“Can one of you get this child under control?”

Sirius’ attention was focused on Matilda.

“Matilda, come here.”

He growled. The moment that Bellatrix popped into the room, Sirius began to panic a bit more internally. He quickly started to walk across the room to retrieve his daughter but stopped when Bellatrix grabbed Matilda from behind.

“Let me go, you freak job!”

Matilda snapped, throwing her fist backward to hit Bellatrix in the nose. The older woman howled angrily as blood began to trickle from her nose.

“Stupid brat! You hit me!”

Matilda gave her cousin a cold glare.

“And you can state the obvious.”

You had quickly come to join Sirius.

“Bella, let her go.”

Sirius said, trying to keep his voice calm. If he could just keep his deranged cousin calm enough the better the outcome would be. Once Matilda was safe and sound, Bella could die.

Bellatrix’s attention snapped up to your face. She hated you from day one and now it was time to make all of you pay. You were the whore that corrupted her cousin.

“Stupid auror! No wonder your brat is a horrible child.”

You watched through your peripheral vision as Sirius slipped around you to get to Matilda. If he could get his hands on Matilda then the three of you could get out of there. You weren't sure what happened in the bar prior to your arrival and you didn’t care. The only thing that you cared about was getting your daughter out alive.

“I would watch it if I were you, Bellatrix. Your cell in Azkaban is waiting for your return.”

Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed on you.

“What about that husband of yours? I won’t be going alone.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Sirius said coldly as he reached out to grab Matilda. Bellatrix quickly pointed her wand at the child and screeched.

“Avada Kedavra.”

_______

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#Harry Potter #Sirius Black #sirius x reader #Remus Lupin #Harry Potter AU #bellatrix lestrange #Fenrir Greyback #sirius orion black #reader x sirius #sirius black au #BEN BARNES AS SIRIUS BLACK #ANDREW GARFIELD AS REMUS LUPIN #Harry Potter fan fic #au story #Second Chance #angst #Second Chance Update

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XLVI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I love that gif and I love this chapter!! -Danny

Words: 4,221

Warnings: None!

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Five: Dementors.

"It was here, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing —"

"I haven't touched it, all right?" Ron roared back.

Mel had been standing on the doorway, witnessing the argument, she hadn't taken the badge, but she had a feeling that neither had Ron.

"What's up?" said Harry, standing beside her.

"My Head Boy badge is gone," said Percy.

"So's Scabbers's rat tonic," said Ron, rummaging through his things. "I think I might've left it in the bar —"

"You're not going anywhere till you've found my badge!" yelled Percy.

"I'll get Scabbers's stuff, I'm packed," Harry said.

"I'll go with you," Mel didn't feel like being there to see Ron lose his temper.

When they approached the bar Harry tugged her sleeve and made her stop, she turned to look at him, confused by his actions, then she paid attention to the voices coming from the parlor.

"...makes no sense not to tell him," Mr. Weasley was saying. "Harry's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He's thirteen years old and—"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify him!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven's sake, he's happy not knowing!"

Mel frowned, leaning.

"I don't want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard! You know what Harry, Mel, and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves — they've even ended up in the Forbidden Forest! But Harry mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him."

"But he's not dead, he's fine, so what's the point —"

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been a month, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet, we're no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after —"

"But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."

"But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry —"

There was a loud noise, someone had hit the table and it made both kids jump.

"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts... he's at Hogwarts.'  Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that..."

"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?"

"Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards, nor am I, if it comes to that... but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save Harry —"

"— then I will never say another word against them. It's late, Molly, we'd better go up..."

Mel went back on her tracks hurriedly and dragged Harry with her, they hid together until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley disappeared from their sight. They kept glancing at each other from time to time, but none of them dared to speak, they didn't know what to say.

Fred and George were near Ron's room. As expected, it was them who'd stolen Percy's badge, and they were having a blast out of hearing his hysteric search.

"We've been improving it." Fred showed them the badge, it now said 'Bighead Boy'.

Mel heard Harry forcing a laugh, and she mumbled something about returning it before Ron killed Percy. Harry went in to give their friend the tonic and she went directly to her room, where her mother was quietly helping her pack all her things.

"You're back," She said casually, "exactly how many socks do you think you'll be-?"

"Sirius Black is after Harry," Mel said without wasting any time, "and you knew."

Her mother opened and closed her mouth without talking.

"How did you-?"

"That's the reason why the Minister was looking for Harry, wasn't it? And why you got scared? Because you knew."

"Lower your voice!" Her mother replied in an angry whisper.

"I can't believe it!" Mel sat her bed. "He's after Harry? Why? Voldemort's dead, he-"

"I don't know," Her mother replied dryly, "I don't know why is he doing this! How he ended up like that, exactly when did he lost his mind or... or perhaps he was crazy from the start, that'd explain so many things-"

"Why are you saying it like you knew him?" Mel asked in hesitation.

"I don't," Emily stood up, a single flick of her wand put Mel's things in order, "and you certainly won't go around searching for information on him. No, you'll be in Hogwarts- You'll be safe..."

"You're rambling."

"There's much you don't know," The woman concluded. "And I won't tell you. I'm sorry, Mel. Some things are better not to talk about."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" She scoffed.

"Goodnight," The woman insisted, "you have a busy day ahead of you."

They didn't talk after that.

Mel didn't find it in herself to insist on the matter with her mum or try to talk about it with Harry. He seemed too calm, a tad serious, perhaps. She kept glancing at him, but Harry never acknowledged whether he'd noticed or not. Once in the station, her mother hugged her and apologized once more, though Mel found it very discouraging. No amount of apologies could make up for the fact that her mother was hiding things from her, again.

Mel casually moved to Harry's side, and she was about to say something when Mr. Weasley got closer as well.

"Harry," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "come over here a moment... You too, Mel. Maybe it's better if you both know."

They shared a look before following the man to a near corner.

"There's something I've got to tell you before you leave —"

"It's all right, Mr. Weasley," said Harry. "We already know."

"You know? How could you know?"

"I — er — We heard you and Mrs. Weasley talking last night."

"We couldn't help hearing," Harry added quickly. "Sorry —"

"That's not the way I'd have chosen for you to find out," said Mr. Weasley.

"No — honestly, it's okay. This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge and I know what's going on."

"Harry, you must be very scared —"

"I'm not," said Harry. "Really," he added, noticing both Mel and Mr. Weasley's stares. "I'm not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can't be worse than Voldemort, can he?"

"Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but —"

"Sorry," Said Mel with a hesitant voice, "but why should I be listening to this?"

"Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"They're coming, Molly!" said Mr. Weasley, then he turned to look at them. "Listen, I want you to give me your word —"

"— that I'll be a good boy and stay in the castle?" said Harry.

"And I won't try to search for more information on it?"

"Not entirely," said Mr. Weasley. "Swear to me you won't go looking for Black."

Harry a Mel shared a confused look.

"What?" They asked.

The guards were starting to close the doors, the train was about to leave.

"Promise me," said Mr. Weasley insisted, "that whatever happens —"

"Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?" said Harry.

"Why would I?" Mel frowned, "I know I'm overprotective sometimes, but not so much as to-"

"Swear to me that whatever you might hear —"

"Arthur, quickly!" Mrs. Weasley yelled.

Mel and Harry ran to the train and hopped on it while Ron held the door open.

"I need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione.

"Go away, Ginny," said Ron.

"Oh, that's nice," said Ginny.

"I'll look for you in a while, okay?" Mel offered with a small smile.

They moved through the corridor looking for a compartment, but they were all full. However, Ron stopped in front of one, since she was right at the end of the line, she didn't see if there was someone inside of it until the rest got in.

She came into a halt and stared, words losing all meaning as she looked at the man sleeping there, wearing what it seemed to be a really old set of robes.

What, in the bloody hell was her uncle doing there?

"That's why he was moving," She whispered in utter shock.

"What?" Harry turned to her, sitting next to the man.

Right then she had two options: She could either pretend she didn't know the man and hope for him to stay asleep for the whole trip, or she could explain who he was. While she was deciding, Ron spoke up.

"Who d'you reckon he is?"

"Professor R.J. Lupin," whispered Hermione at once.

"Professor?"  Mel squealed, and they all looked at her again, confused by her attitude.

"How d'you know that?" Ron glanced at the other girl.

"It's on his case," Hermione replied, pointing at the luggage.

Oh, she knew that case. She'd helped him find that case in the middle of the huge mess his closet was. It didn't say Professor, though.

"Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron.

"That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh..." Mel sat down next to Harry, clinging at her sleeves.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he?"

"He'll manage, I mean..." Mel said abruptly, her whole face turned red. "I mean, he may look a bit sick, but he also looks smart, don't you think?"

"...Anyway," Ron turned to Harry, not before giving her a weird look. "What were you going to tell us?"

She spent a lot of time in silence. She wasn't mad. At least that's what she thought, but her uncle not telling her anything made her blood boil. Did any of the adults she consider her family trusted her? Or did they think she was too young to participate in the discussions?

Well, not all of the adults. Dumbledore never judged her, and he was going to give her extra lessons that year, she guessed that if there was someone she could currently truly trust, that one wasn't uncle Lupin. It was uncle Dumbledore.

"I suppose he's asleep?" said Ron quietly as the witch with the trolley left their compartment. "I mean — he hasn't died, has he?"

"No, no, he's breathing," whispered Hermione.

"Harry, may I speak with you for a moment?" Mel urged him.

Harry raised his eyebrows in wonder.

"Yes?"

She took his hand and pulled him out of the compartment, hands shaking.

"Remember my uncle?"

"The one that got sick?" She nodded, "Why?"

"Well," She peered over his shoulder, biting her lip, "that's him..."

It took him a moment to understand what she was saying.

"You mean the man in our compartment?"

"Yes."

"That's your uncle?"

"Yes!" She groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Remember I told you he was going to move out? Well, he never told me exactly where he was going, now I see why- No, I don't see why, did he think I would get upset? I'm not... ugh! Why are they hiding so many things from me?!"

"Calm down!" Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure there's a reason, but don't get so heated about it."

"Easy for you to say," She grumbled.

"Oh yes, easy," Harry said, "not like everyone around me also hid that there's a murderer chasing after me or anything..."

Mel realized her mistake and stammered an apology.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I know," Harry sighed, "let's go back inside and if you don't want to say anything to Ron and Hermione that's okay, to be honest, I don't think he'll be waking up any time soon, he looks tired."

"Poor thing," Mel pouted. "He must have traveled alone for a really long time, and he doesn't have money to spare, I bet he hasn't eaten much these few days..."

"At least he's on his way to the castle now," Harry removed the hand from her shoulder, she felt a bit sad about this. "I'm sure he'll enjoy the feast."

Mel stayed quiet for the most part, even when Malfoy tried to pick a fight with Harry and Ron she didn't try to stop them. She was anxious, and all she wanted was to get to school soon. The train slowed down, and Ron stood up to peer out the window.

"Great. I'm starving. I want to get to the feast..."

"We can't be there yet," said Hermione.

"So why're we stopping?"

Harry got up from his seat to look out the corridor. Before they could figure things out, the lights went off, leaving them in complete darkness.

"What's going on?" said Ron's voice.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!"

Harry returned to his seat.

"D'you think we've broken down?"

"Dunno..."

"Impossible," said Mel.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said, cleaning the window so he could see better. "I think people are coming aboard..."

The compartment door opened again and someone fell between Harry and Mel.

"Sorry — d'you know what's going on? — Ouch — sorry —"

"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, and helped him to sit up.

"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea — sit down —"

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," Hermione said loudly.

Mel heard two squeals on her left and jumped, holding onto someone else's arm.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron —"

"Come in and sit down —"

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!"

"Why is it so cold?" Mel breathed, curling up in her place.

"Ouch!" said Neville, Ginny had stepped on his foot.

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice.

Remus Lupin was finally awake.

The kids waited, a soft cracking sound later, her uncle's face appeared, softly illuminated by a small flame dancing on his hand.

"Stay where you are," he said, and he got up slowly.

The door opened a third time. A cloaked figure stood in front of them. She pushed herself even further away but it was useless, the creature seemed to take a long, harsh breath, and all she felt was cold.

Cold so overwhelming that she couldn't breathe- and the walls were falling around her, and she was being thrown against a wall, she was dying and then...

"Mel! Harry! Are you alright?!"

She sat up with a gasp, touching her own arms frantically, waiting to see them turned into ice. Everything seemed to be normal, the train was moving again and she was just fine. The only proof of whatever had been going on moments before was that deep, hollow feeling in her chest.

Harry was on the ground, and she was sprawled on their seat. She quickly composed herself.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Harry, glancing at the door. "What happened? Where's that — that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron, his expression worsening.

"The walls were falling," Mel said, still too dizzy to understand that what she was saying made no sense.

"Mel, did you hit your head?" Hermione asked carefully.

"What?" She looked at her in confusion, "No?"

"But I heard screaming —" Harry insisted.

Something snapped behind her friends and they all turned to watch as her uncle broke into several pieces a bar of chocolate.

"Here," He handed her and Harry two large pieces. "Eat it. It'll help."

She looked down at the candy and then to her uncle, wondering if she was dreaming.

"What was that thing?" Harry asked.

"A dementor," The man replied while handing the rest of the chocolate to all the kids. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him.

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me..."

He avoided Mel's eyes at all cost.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione watched them anxiously.

"I don't get it... What happened?"

"Well — that thing — the dementor — stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) — and you — you —"

"I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching — and Mel just whimpered and curled up in her seat-"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand, and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away..."

"It was horrible," said Neville, still shivering. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt it even before they came in," Mel mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "That was so strange..."

"I felt weird," said Ron, "Like I'd never be cheerful again..."

"But didn't any of you — fall off your seats?" said Harry awkwardly.

"No," said Ron. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though..."

"Well, apparently I passed out too," Mel grumbled, looking at the chocolate in her hand, "I don't understand what I saw..."

Lupin came back right at that moment. He noticed none of them had eaten and  said with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know..."

Mel took a small bite, and she felt the effects almost immediately, feeling a comforting warmth spreading through her chest.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," He said. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Harry muttered, embarrassed.

"I'm all right," Mel mumbled, "How are you, Professor?"

Lupin's smiled faded a little, doubt seeping through his eyes.

"I'm well enough, thank you, Miss Dumbledore."

They didn't talk for the rest of the ride, she had a nagging pain at the back of her neck, maybe she'd pulled on some muscle when the dementor attacked her, she couldn't tell. As they walked out of the carriage, a voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You two actually fainted?"

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron through gritted teeth.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" said Malfoy, standing in front of them. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

"You know what, Malfoy? The school year hasn't started," Mel growled, pushing Harry and Ron away so she stood in front of the boy, "so don't tempt me, cause I'll gladly ruin my first day getting detention by turning your big, empty head into a big pile of–"

"Is there a problem?" said a voice.

Lupin had just gotten out of his carriage.

"Oh, no — er — Professor," Malfoy smirked, turning his back to them and heading to the main staircase.

"Mis  Dumbledore, could I talk to you for a moment?" He said severely.

"Come on," Hermione pushed Ron and Harry so they kept walking while Mel stood there, waiting for Professor Lupin.

"I suppose you're expecting an apology," He stared at her intently, "though it wouldn't be appropriate to do it in public-"

"Professor," She said formally, "I was just wondering, why you and my mum keep hiding things like I'm still a baby. I'm not. I don't understand why you didn't tell me."

"I thought that having me as your teacher would be... difficult for you."

"Difficult?"

"Embarrassing," The man sighed, "I'm aware that my appearance isn't the best, and it could put you in a bad position if you admitted that we're related."

"You thought I'd be ashamed?" Mel frowned.

"I guess I was nervous about your reaction... you have the right to pretend you don't know me if that's what you want-"

"I don't," She admitted, "I saw you reading all those books, it makes sense now. I would never be ashamed of you, you're my family even if we have no relation in blood... But I suppose you're right, I shouldn't say a thing, they already think Dumbledore hands everything to me on a silver platter..."

"I can pretend I hate you a little?" He said with a tiny smile, "that way the other kids won't tease you."

"And be sure to scold me very loudly as well," Mel nodded.

Lupin chuckled, patting her shoulder lightly.

"Go catch up with your friends, I'll see you later."

"Goodbye, Professor," She said, "and Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I know you'll be brilliant."

"Potter and Dumbledore! Granger! I want to see you!" Professor McGonagall called over the heads of the crowd.

"How many times have we heard our names being called like that during the last two years?" Mel whispered to her friends as they got closer, "and how many times it's been good news?"

"There's no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office," Their Professor told them before anyone could reply to Mel's questions "Move along there, Weasley."

She took them to her office.

"Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train." She said, looking at Harry and Her.

There was a knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey came in.

"Oh no," Mel stood up suddenly, "it wasn't that bad-"

"I'm fine," Harry said, "I don't need anything —"

"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Madam Pomfrey, starting to check Harry's pupils. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"

"It was a dementor, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall.

"Setting dementors around a school," The nurse muttered, pushing back Harry's hair and feeling his forehead. "They won't be the last ones who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —"

"I'm not delicate!" said Harry crossly.

"Neither am I!" Mel added in outrage.

"Of course you're not," She replied absentmindedly, taking their pulse.

"What do they need?" said Professor McGonagall. "Bed rest? Should they perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

"I'm fine!" said Harry, jumping up and standing next to Mel. "We both are!"

"Well, they should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey.

"I've already had some," said Harry. "Professor Lupin gave us some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey raising a brow. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

"He seems capable enough," Mel hurried to add.

"Are you sure you feel all right?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Completely," Mel nodded.

"Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."

Both kids went outside, feeling even more self-conscious than before.

"What a bunch of rubbish," She complained, "we fainted a little, that's all! We didn't need all this..."

"Can you imagine what Malfoy would've said if he heard about us spending the night in the hospital wing?"

"To hell with Malfoy, we would've missed the feast!"

Harry chuckled, then stared at her a bit more intently.

"You are alright, aren't you?"

"Do I look like I'm about to die?" She grinned. "Although, I don't know how could they tell you were ill, you look exactly as pale and scrawny as usual, I don't see the difference-"

"Hey!" He said over her laughter, "I was going to say that you look as nice as always, but now I take it back!"

"What?" She chortled. "Oh no! What will I do without your compliments?"

Harry laughed.

Hermione walked out of the room with McGonagall beside her, both kids stopped their chatter and followed them to the Great Hall, eager to start the feast.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere @kylosleftbuttcheek @steve-thotgers @tomshollandz @thesuitelifeofafangirl @reverse-hxlland​

#twoidiots writing #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #harry potter xoc #ron weasley #hermione granger #Remus Lupin #ginny weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #neville longbottom #WITT fic

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 4: Ron I - Strength & Weakness 

Featuring: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Dudders

Word Count: 800 words

 Ron awoke to the sound of someone knocking on his door.

“Who is it? Door’s unlocked!” he grumbled.

The knocking continued.

It took a few seconds for him to realise, but Ron then noticed that the noise wasn’t coming from his door after all – it was coming from the window.

There was a big, brown owl with piercing green eyes and funny looking ears who was persistently tapping its beak against his window. He’d never seen the owl before and had no idea who it was that was sending him post.

As he opened the window he heard Harry stir.

“W’as tha’ noise?” he murmured.

The owl wasted no time in hurtling its way into the room. Ron had to duck out of its way as it flew straight at him whilst hooting aggressively.

“I think I’ve got some post, mate,” Ron replied.

The little brown beast swerved straight over Ron’s head, then flung its letter very flamboyantly onto Harry’s bed.

“Oh. Maybe it’s for you.”

Harry barely even acknowledged that a letter had landed on him. This was a grave mistake, as the funny-eared owl dive-bombed onto his face and started pecking.

“OWWWW!!!!”

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed, before grabbing a leftover sausage that Harry hadn’t finished from his dinner last night.

“Maybe he’s just hungry,” Ron mused as he seized the owl’s attention and motioned for it to come and eat the sausage. Its eyes lit up and it hooted madly before darting at him and snatching the sausage out of his hands with its beak.

Harry had grumpily reached for his glasses and began sitting up.

“I hope you weren’t planning on eating that, mate. The little monster’s gobbled it down already!”

“I think the only person I’ve seen eat a sausage that quick before is you,” Harry joked as he ripped open the envelope.

The owl was hooting loudly once again. Ron presumed it was after some more food, which was a big problem, as they didn’t have any more.

“Who’s the letter from?” Ron asked nosily.

“It’s from Hestia. She says her and Dedalus have gotten the Dursleys back home safe.”

“Well that’s great news!” Ron said sarcastically, as he noted the deranged little owl was now nibbling at some of Harry’s discarded socks.

“My uncle had a heart-attack whilst they were in hiding,” Harry noted curiously.

“Bloody hell! Did the old git cop it?”

“Nope. Dedalus managed to save him and oh…”

“What is it?” Ron asked, wondering what caused the sudden pause and change of tone in his best friend’s voice.  

“Hestia says something went wrong when she wiped their memories of any knowledge of magic.”

“What happened? They’ve not forgotten who they are like our old pal Lockhart, have they?”

“No. Not quite. They forgot all about magic, but they also forgot about, well, me. Hestia says they’ve got no recollection of me existing whatsoever,” Harry said dumbstruck, re-reading the letter to make sure he’d got it correct.

“Blimey!” Ron exclaimed. “All those happy memories of you, gone, just like that!”

“Dudley did say he didn’t think I was a waste of space when we said goodbye,” Harry mused.

“Would you have even seen much of them anyway? Might save you a few awkward visits over the years.”

“Yeah. Yeah I suppose you’re right. Oh. Oh no! Oh dear...”

“What is it?” Ron asked nervously.

“Well it seems that Hestia felt really bad about making them forget I existed. So much so that she’s bought me a present to say sorry.”

“That’s funny. He just had the letter when he flew in,” Ron pondered, looking down at the owl which had now moved on to a pair of Harry’s trousers. “You don’t think she bought you some sweets or chocolate, do you? Maybe that little savage ate it on the way here!”

“No. No see that’s the problem Ron. That little savage IS the present!”

“What?! You’re joking!” Ron laughed.

“She said she heard about Hedwig dying and thought I could do with a new owl.”

“Well, she certainly picked you out a nice one. What’s his name?” Ron queried.

“She didn’t say anything about him having name, just that he’s from the Canary Islands and was the owl in the shop with the most character.”

“Well he’s certainly got some of that!” quipped Ron. “What are you gonna call him?”

“Hmm,” Harry pondered. “I think... I think I’ll call him Dudley.”

“After your cousin?!”

“Yeah. I think-

“Why would you name an owl after that prat? All he ever did was-

“Gorge himself on food and attack me,” Harry said sassily, looking down at the owl with a funny expression on his face.

Ron laughed.

“I hope you never get to name your kids, mate.”  

#harrypotter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hp fanfic #hpfanfiction #hp #hpff #hpf #ronweasley #ron weasley #ron weasley fanfiction #potter #weasley #weasley fan fic #weasley fanfiction #dudders

[toujourspur13]

What’s so interesting about Sirius Black... apart from the obvious?

Well…I feel obliged to jump into this discussion about Sirius and his family.

I actually think that canon Sirius Black is a good example of multidimensional character with a complex personality (rare thing in hp series)…at least the way JKR wrote him implies some psychological depth (hp is mainly teen literature about friendship - the marauders friendship, the golden trio are all great examples of it - but let’s face it - this literature has a tendency to a very specific narrative - maybe that’s the reason for popular Sirius fanon - I mean…Sirius being part of the Harry’s story is seen through the lens of Harry’s problems). The thing is that usually Sirius is greatly simplified when, in fact, he’s one of the most interesting and complex character in the whole series.

OOTP is the longest hp book - it contains huge amount of text about Sirius’s family incl. RAB who’s indeed very important to the story; and it also contains excessive amount of Walburga Black content. Why excessive? Well because she is not even important to the plot…I mean, at all. Harry (and the whole 7-books journey is Harry’s POV) doesn’t even care about her. But she is important. To Sirius. To the extent that he can barely shut up about her.

And as Sirius’s important to Harry we got all those extra pages about The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

When he’s showing Harry the family tree, he keeps going back to her - she did this and she did that, she removed him, she removed Andromeda, Uncle Alphard…

I saw how he managed to squeeze her in one passage in two different contexts. She’s clearly weighing heavily on his mind. Grunted, he is very angry about everything she did - but can you really disagree that he is super fixated on her.  Frankly speaking, you could’ve expected that he’d be talking so much about James (in Flitwick’s words ‘You’d have thought Black and Potter were brothers’) - but in fact he doesn’t talk a lot about James - it’s his family he seems unable to shut up about. Cross out all his rant and the book becomes significantly shorter. Sirius shows Harry all of his relatives because he wants to.

Remember Araminta Meliflua…his mother’s second cousin?! Is it of any interest to Harry - I doubt it. Harry’s more interested in the Malfoys at the tapestry - but then again Sirius pays little attention to them - and only answers the direct questions. The only one about who he truly doesn’t want to talk in that scene is Bellatrix.

Btw if I remember correctly, he’s even distantly related to the Potters…but for some reason he chose to ignore this. So let’s just say that his thoughts in that scene are clearly one-sided and family-centered.

Even in POA Sirius is mirrored to his mother (we can only understand this after reading the 5th book though) - Sirius slashes the Fat Lady portrait when she refuses him the entry to the Gryffindor Tower - Walburga burns holes in the family tree. Angry management is what they both clearly need. They are so extremely alike that I am almost sure it’s all deliberate and JKR used her as a way to show deeper levels of Sirius’s personality (and not the abusive nature of his childhood).  Loud, high-strung, passionate and very emotional.

Sirius says that he ‘hated the whole lot of them’ and that’s why he ran away and instead of saying something like ‘I got so fed up with my parents lecturing me how I should avoid mudbloods at all the cost/ hate them/ whatever fits the profile of pure-blood maniac’ he says in the next sentence that he was constantly reminded that Regulus was a better son. This is a very jealous remark. It’s pretty obvious that what he wanted is unconditional love - ‘either you take me with all my extreme political views or I’m gone’. The things Sirius says are often contradictory and half-truths and sometimes he just chooses to withdraw certain information at all.

I sometimes come across the strange ideas that JKR tried to parallel Harry’s life with the Dursleys to Sirius’s childhood - I mean, do we really need to go there? You’d be better off trying to parallel him to Big D rather than to Harry. It’s fairly obvious that the odd ideas about Sirius’s abusive childhood are used for the sole purpose of helping him to bond with Remus (in terms of being subjected to physical pain) where he wouldn’t be able to relate to James (you know what popular phenomenon I mean).

Another popular idea - that the 1st year fiasco with Sirius’s Sorting was a big deal. I admit we have very little info about this BUT the fact that he put Gryffindor banners and pictures of  bikini-clad Muggle girls into his room makes me think that the parents were clearly disturbed and disappointed but not to the extent that it became something crucial in their relationship. Clearly Sirius used that as a means to annoy them. To tell you the truth, I find this attempt to go against fanatical blood purists quite feeble and certainly below Sirius Black’s level - it feels more like «hey, mum, look I stick posters of barely-clothed girls on the wall in my room - let’s see what you can do about this».

Btw the interesting thing is that it somehow feels that Sirius’s relationship with his mother (unlike the ones with his father or brother) was the relationship of equals which is odd because she was older and his mother. The explanation for this can be that they were very much alike and she in fact allowed it…maybe (well here I agree that it’s vague and can be just because it’s only the portrait and not the real person but still there is something about this).  And they have this you-hurt-me-now-I’ll-hurt-you-back attitude that implies equality and a certain degree of exclusivity. They both very clearly are not careful with words and actions.

And thus we’ve come to the very touchy subject - her psychotic portrait - her little ‘welcome home’ present. I grant her that - very impressive and colorful vocabulary.

She definitely wanted to be sure that in case Sirius had come home he would never have a moment free from her. Very dramatic.

“Yoooou!” she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man.

“Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!”

“I said — shut — UP!” roared the man, and with a stupendous effort he and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed again.

They match each other really well. (All the drama aside, if we consider this matter seriously - it’s just a portrait of hers and she was insane and alone for years after she lost everyone. But yeah - pretty nasty thing to do - I agree).

Frankly speaking, her personality isn’t really that significant in this case - it’s more important how Sirius feels about her, the way he can’t let her go. He’s relatively okay in the 4th book while on the run in the cave eating rats and arguing about Crouch, Bertha Jorkins, Karkaroff, Snape etc. But his severe depression in the OOTP clearly has everything to do that he’s locked up in ‘the house of a dying person’ (the very last one from their family) - like in the case of his mother’s true personality we’ll never know for sure what’s that about - Sirius’s real feelings are impossible to decipher - he says one thing - does another - feels maybe something completely different - for all I know, it could be about plenty of things one of which is that seeing her awful portrait, sitting in the rooms where they used to be together is a constant reminder that his family is gone and no matter what he feels and wants, he can’t fix anything about that - it’s all lost for good.

Of course, Sirius wouldn’t like to be there - a man of action trapped in his own past without any hope to ever overcome his unresolved issues with his family. The way he’s fixated on his mother is so intense that it’s almost unhealthy but I guess it’s just the visible (most explicit) tip of the iceberg.

Sirius with his hidden and repressed feelings is a great and very interesting character - he’s so much bigger than just James Potter’s best mate with a cool leather jacket. His relationships with his family is what makes him such a deep character (and not those ideas about how fluffy little angle was magically born in the family of twisted and deranged warlocks - well, it’s a little bit naive). After all it’s an internal conflict that sells the character.

Upd 2020

I think it is worth mentioning that since we’re discussing fictional world and fictional characters it only makes sence what the author implied and what the author did not. Yes, there is no absolute truth because it is all not real but the way character is written usually allows us to make certain assumtions about his or her inner world and motivation. So called ‘canonical evidence’ only matter in terms of what the author wanted to show us. I’ve never had any problems with fanon and headcanon - the only thing that bothers me is saying some things were in the main text when it is explicitly implied that there was nothing of that sort.

#araminta meliflua #sirius black #harry potter #the noble and most ancient house of black #harry potter meta #walburga black #regulus black #hp #sirius black meta #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #the marauders #black family #hp fanart

[catubarca]

Harry Potter Next Generation Headcanons

im bored. im full of emotions, and am rly missing the HP world... i just want to write down my headcannons for the next gen kiddos tbh.

please remember these are just my opinions? its okay if yours are different. im just bored and want to share my thoughts,,

Teddy Lupin

his name is Theodore Remus “Teddy” Lupin. it’s just what it is

I don’t care what JKR says, to me his name will always be Theodore

i can’t do this “Edward” stuff im so sorry,,,

h u f f l e p u f f

proper school uniform? never heard of it

messy hair, messy clothes

punk rock child

we’re talking like,,,at least two (2) lip piercings ok

absolutely terrible in herbology. do not leave this child alone in a greenhouse, bad things happen

fuckin hoards chocolate

its a problem

dating Victorie Weasley

random bursts of dancing

keeps a lock of hair pink for his mother

lives with the Potters, enjoys pretending to be Ginny to ground his siblings

“Lily, why aren’t you coming out of your room? Dinner’s ready?” “You said I’m grounded! You tell me!” “What? Oh, for the- THEODORE REMUS LUPIN-“

s m i r k s

effortlessly cool,,, but so so dorky,,, in a cool way

Victorie Weasley

ravenclaw!

looks a lot like her mother, Fleur, but inherited those Weasley freckles

a little confused a lot of the time

absolute sweet tooth (teddy abuses this fact a lot)

Mom Friend™

will help you with your homework

always got a book on her

super beautiful and like,,,, the absolute nicest person,,, but

cannot dance

like at all

adores Charms class

a softie you don’t want to cross

“I’m the oldest”

Dominique Weasley

inherited the Classic Weasley Red Hair™

idolises her Uncle Charlie

“I wanna save animals and work with cool dragons, just like Uncle Charlie does!”

Bill almost has a heart attack

always bringing stray animals home

(“is that a lizard in your pocket, Dominique?” “Yes! His name is Blob.” “You know how your father’s afraid of reptiles, sweetheart, you can’t bring it inside.”)

Gryffindor child

favourite class is definitely Care of Magical Creatures, she and Hagrid like to talk about proper care methods for rare creatures

perpetual dirt stains

BIG middle child vibes

doesn’t really label her sexuality… just kinda does what she wants rly

all the pets in Hogwarts love her

rumours are she’s got an innate, natural magical ability to make them all love her

(she feeds them under the table)

it’s a mystery

big advocate for animal rights

f e m i n i s t

willing to throw hands at all times

usually all smiles though

one of those people who use their whole bodies to laugh

kind of an accidental heartthrob

romcoms

Louis Weasley

looks the most like his mother

ravenclaw

absolutely filled with curiosity. always reading or talking or learning

random facts

(how do you even find that sort of information?

you don’t want to know)

coffee boy

sort of musically talented?

he and James Sirius preach the importance of skincare to all who will listen

secretly full of sass and dry wit

vry graceful and fluid

e y e r o l l

awkward smiles? can never smile properly in photos

on the ravenclaw quidditch team

Ravenclaw Prefect

(“You might be older, but I’m taller.” “Fuck off!”)

only watches High Quality™ tv shows/media

kind of a disaster, despite the gracefulness

Molly Weasley

Classic red hair

comes across as a bit uptight, like her father

I don’t care what you think. (She really cares what you think.)

E y e b r o w s

death glares

drinks like 5 cups of coffee in the morning

studies,,, like a lot

definitely a Gryffindor though

mom jeans

always ready to debate a topic. will destroy opponents.

has been trying to start a successful Debate Club for like 4 years now

naturally falls into the position of a group leader

would be a teacher’s pet, if she wasn’t ready At All Times™ to debate the relevancy of the course syllabus or outdated teaching methods

got into a fight with Severus Snape’s portrait in Headmistress McGonagall’s office.

(Dumbledore’s portrait was laughing, until she turned and ragged on him for a bit. Minerva thought it was absolutely hilarious, so she just let Molly go at it for a while).

full of rage towards everything, but wears a very careful mask of aloofness

to calm down, she likes painting her nails

she’s very good at it

she’s also very good at painting and art in general, weirdly enough

Lucy Weasley

G R Y F F I N D O R

adores shitty puns and has a terrible sense of humour

brown hair, not red

loves to prank people, which makes her Uncle George very proud

Percy complains about her behaviour, but makes sure he knows he’s proud too

(charming all the cauldrons in the potions classroom to scream whenever they’re stirred takes a more complex understanding of spell work than one would expect).

a pit of a punk streak

rly loves hip hop

high key drama queen

does she ever stop yelling? we’re yet to find out

average grades in terms of theory, but she’s the best in terms of applying information

especially for her pranks

has allies throughout the castle, from the portraits to the students

the bigger the prank, the better

but is a firm believer in “confuse, don’t abuse”

all her pranks are mostly harmless

is a surprising lover of older literature, like Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, an influence of her sister

a bit rebellious

Fred Weasley II

name isn’t officially “the second”, but it sounds cooler

James Potter, Lucy Weasley, Molly Weasley and Fred Weasley are like the Marauders 2.0

says “squad” and “lit” unironically

niche humour

hipster vibes

avid music lover

smiley sunshine child

takes after his mother the most in looks, just like his sister

a chill type of gryffindor

plays quidditch, and is an excellent chaser, just like his mother

the absolute undisputed King™ of puppy-dog eyes

just,,,, beautiful

the True teacher’s pet

hands in his work on time,, asks lots of questions,,, likes helping students understand their work,, what a boy

can hella nyoom

runs so fast

look at him go

as you might expect, loves a good prank. always down for a laugh

Roxanne Weasley

Gryffindor and pROUD

absolute Queen tbh

was definitely Head Prefect or Gryffindor Prefect at some point

loved by the school

absolute legend

G I R L   P O W E R

infectious laughter

has a soft spot for Louis Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy

these poor disaster children,,,, they need a Mother

M O M

big mom vibes

mothers the hell out of all the first years

a feminist through and through

can be found nodding aggressively to Molly Weasley’s semi-deranged, furious ranting

YAAAASS

loves slang. uses so much slang. always up to date with trends and memes

has all the gossip

becomes a mess around pretty girls

absolute blushing, stuttering disaster around cute girls oh my god

her eye make-up game is killer

sparkly

Distinguished Lesbian

Rosie Weasley

did someone say Weasley™?

red hair and freckles and curls oh my

on the autism spectrum, has trouble socialising sometimes

hella passionate about stuff

hangs out with Scorpius and Albus, the Golden Trio 2.0

f em ini st

her jokes are the best. high quality sense of humour.

Ravenclaw

likes to read. it’s quiet in the school library, which is nice.

abysmal at herbology

surprisingly good at Care of Magical Creatures though? Animals are just,,, so much easier to deal with

overall, really good grades though

bit of a silent type, but she’s actually a riot to hang out with

actually pretty good at quidditch? She’s not on the team, and she’s not super interested in playing, but?? She’s not bad??

She can land a solid hit with a beater’s bat

(eyes you judgementally over the top of a book)

dry wit humour

will throw hands over chess

Hugo Weasley

hufflepuff

unbeatable at chess, like his dad

a lost puppy

someone please help this child

softie

kind of low-key emotional

so supportive!! and loyal!! high-key best friend material

foodie. loves food. please feed him.

takes a bit more after his dad appearance wise

loves to cook. spends lots of time with grandma Molly and his dad in the kitchen

Professor Longbottom is his favourite professor, because he’s more chilled and laidback.

other professors and classes fill him with Distress™

loves astronomy too

maths whizz, so good at arithmancy

(“uh, actually-“)

a little bossy, like his mother

is trying so hard

maybe a little too hard

a bit insecure and nervous, but so soft

please treat this child carefully and with love

James Sirius Potter

Gryffindor

L O U D

a fucking disaster child

what’d you expect, putting “James” and “Sirius” together?

DRAMATIC GASPING

flails his hands around when he talks

s t r u t s

bisexual mess, had a crush on both the Longbottom children at some point

is better than you at everything

including being a different gender

fuck you that’s why

so pretty

he’s so pretty

is thIS CHILD EVER NOT LAUGHING AT SOMETHING OH My god

laughs at everything

all the time

always

high-key emotional

badly timed finger guns

looks like a model in photos? wtf?

gets invited to Girls Nights™

wears nail polish and makeup

loves to yell at people about gender roles and defying stereotypes

TEA SIS

not on the quidditch team surprisingly enough, even though he’s pretty good

prefers to be in the stands, doing A+ commentary on the games

if he can get Fred to stop mid-air due to unbearable, suffocating laughter at least once a game it’s a win in his books

has it OUT for the hufflepuff quidditch team and no one knows why??

definitely makes puns on his name

it drives everyone insane

harry always replies he’s just making his namesake proud

that also drives everyone insane

smug lil shit

Albus Severus Potter

“It’s just Al.”

S L Y T H E R I N

will always find a way to get what he wants, eventually

“dad, why did you name me this way?”

unimpressed

sigh

hella smart. is topping at least five classes

Aunt Hermione is his favourite. She’s the fucking Mistress of Magic! All that power, the ability to make change and improve the Magical World as a whole-

sass master

the reason headmistress mcgonagall keeps a bottle of scotch under her desk at all times

the only potter child to inherit The Eyes™

absolute insomniac

kind of emo, but turns into a fucking softie around Scorpius Malfoy it’s hilarious

adverse to violence. prefers a verbal beatdown method

really tall? despite having shorties for parents??? no one saw it coming

(especially not Teddy. He’s always scared of losing his last few inches of height)

Functional Gay

he’s on the slytherin quidditch team, as a seeker

Lily Luna Potter

Gryffindor

FEMINIST

do not mess with lily luna potter

she may seem cute and sweet, but she will destroy you

inherited her father’s black hair

disaster lesbian

transfiguration is her favourite subject, by far

has no idea what she wants to do with the rest of her life.

Existential Crisis Father-Daughter Bonding Time™

do you ever sleep?

takes after Ginny the most in personality

also, kind of the most like James Fleamont Potter in personality, too?

Loves to help her brother out with pranks, laughs at him when he gets caught and she gets away with it

The only one of the Potter Children who hasn’t got into a fight with Severus Snape’s portrait

because she just ignores him instead

loves talking to the portraits around the castle

Super good at Quidditch, is on the team as a Chaser

Quidditch Captain at some point

adores Hagrid, but who out of the Potter children doesn’t?

Idolises Minerva McGonagall

just as oblivious as her father

Scorpius Malfoy

Actually in Ravenclaw, not Slytherin, much to many people’s surprise

abSOLUTE DADDY’S BOY

super close with his dad

Draco is just so supportive of like everything he does (unlike his father)

classic blonde malfoy looks

actually really funny?

a cuddler. loves hugs. always leeching warmth off of someone

he and Rosie sometimes finger-tip-touch which is their version of a hug, because he know’s she’s not super comfortable with touch

was basically adopted by the Weasley’s and Potter’s

James Sirius will murder for this child

booknerd, always rambling to Al and Rosie about new books coming out he’s interested in reading.

has had a crush on Albus Potter since like 1st year

always worried about making his dad proud, and keeping up the Malfoy name

sweet tooth

he’s just,, soft. just a warm, happy child. he wants love, and affection. someone tell him he’s doing okay, please.

needs,,, validation,,,

he’ll tell you out loud that he has no favourite aunts or uncles, but he secretly really likes spending time with his Uncle Ron

they had a talk, once, in like the middle of the night at a sleepover with Rosie and Al, about feeling insecure in comparison to others, and learning to be proud of yourself for your achievements

there were a few tears, but it was nice

Ron was actually the third person he told, besides his dad and Rosie, about having a crush on Al

openly a disaster romantic. trash taste in romance novels.

always welcome in the Potter-Weasley households

#harry potter #harry potter next generation #next generation headcannons #headcanon #it's just my opinion #please don't hurt me #teddy lupin #victorie weasley #dominique weasley #louis weasley #molly weasley #lucy weasley #fred weasley #roxanne weasley #rosie weasley #rose weasley #james sirius potter #albus severus potter #lily luna potter #scorpius malfoy #scorbus #scorpius x albus #next gen hp #next gen harry potter #next gen kids #headcannons #headcannon #slytherin #gryffindor #hufflepuff

[upstartpoodle]

Moving Forward (Prologue)

Rating: T

Relationships: Dwight & George, George & Ross, George & Cary, past George/Elizabeth

Summary: When George saves Ross' life from the French General, Hanson decides to take immediate revenge. Stuck at Nampara, seriously injured, he and the Poldarks must learn to get along as he recovers in order to eliminate the threat that Hanson and his brother pose for good.

@harry-leroy, @forcebros, @ticketybooser I’ve finally decided to start posting the post s5 AU, if only to encourage me to get on and write the rest of it ha.

AO3

***

“Well, gentlemen, now that this…inconvenient matter is being dealt with, I think it is time that I take my leave.”

Sir George Warleggan forced his knee to stop bobbing nervously up and down as the loathsome Mr Merceron stood from his seat in Trenwith’s parlour, the smug, self-satisfied look on his weathered face quite horrible to behold. His mind was in a whirl at the sight—had been ever since the man had suggested passing on proof of Ross Poldark’s attempt at espionage to General Toussaint, thereby likely seeing his longstanding rival killed and the report of the proposed French invasion of the south west suppressed. He had not, at first, quite believed that such a thing was being said to him. As unscrupulous as he had often been in his own business dealings, a scheme which would leave a man, however disliked, dead by collaborating with one who meant both his home county and his country at large great harm was going a little too far even for him. And yet, it seemed as if Merceron and his horrid brother were quite satisfied to use the French to rid themselves of a nuisance to them, consequences be damned, and it had left George without the slightest idea of what to say or do in response to their plots.

“Will you not stay for another drink?” his uncle asked, eyebrow raised. George glanced over at him, trying for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening to gauge his feelings with regards to the night’s rather alarming proceedings. Cary did not appear to be overtly concerned—he was of a kind with Merceron when it came to ruthlessness, in ways that had made his nephew uncomfortable in the past on a number of occasions—but not so long ago he had agreed that some distance from the two men would be preferable, for the sake of their own reputations if nothing else. For what, then, did he wish now?

Merceron seemed about to reply to the offer, but whether it had been to accept or deny it, they never found out, for George cut across him as politely as he could.

“Uncle, I am sure Mr Merceron is tired after the day’s events,” he said. “It is very late, and he shall no doubt wish to return to his lodgings in Truro.”

Despite his courteous words, his tone brooked no argument. There was a short pause, before Merceron inclined his head in George’s direction. There was a slight smile upon his face, but the twist of his lips greater resembled a grimace, his eyes cold, like two pieces of hard flint set deep beneath the ridge of his cruel brow.

“You are quite right,” he agreed, and though his tone was mild, George sensed that he was not entirely pleased. “I must return to Truro. Mr Warleggan—(he nodded to Cary)—when we next meet, I hope that our…little problem will be no more, and our reputations shall be restored. Sir George, if you would perhaps be so kind as to show me to the door? There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

“By all means.” The request was not quite polite, and George would have very much liked to refuse, but the look in Merceron’s eye told him that he would not leave until he got what he wanted. With that in mind, he pushed himself out of his seat and followed out through the door and into the hall.

“I sense, Sir George,” Merceron remarked once the door to the parlour had been closed behind him with a soft click, “that you are not entirely comfortable with this plan.”

George opened his mouth to deny it, but Merceron held up a hand to silence him. He glared at the man, wishing to make it abundantly clear that he did not appreciate being shushed like a contrary child.

“I understand why you might be concerned—(George had to bite his tongue to stop himself from retorting “that, I very much doubt”)—but I assure you, none of this shall ever be attached to your name. If all goes well, nobody will even know that anyone was involved at all, save for Poldark and the General, of course. Enys might suspect something, but who would listen to his word over mine?”

George was sorely tempted to point out that as the Enyses had, in spreading the word about Merceron’s mistreatment of his prisoners, managed to do some severe damage to the man’s reputation, it was quite possible that Dwight’s testimony would be taken very seriously, if not by various official persons, then by the court of public opinion. Still, he did not think it wise to rile the man, nor to remind him of the fact that Ross was not his sole enemy in Cornwall, and so he quashed the urge before he could make any imprudent observations.

“And if all does not go well?,” he said instead. “If your brother is caught, if his part in this scheme is discovered, it will not take long for your name to be connected to the whole business as well.”

Merceron smiled then, that cold, cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked like a shark, George thought, cruel and emotionless.

“Oh, there shall be no risk of that, Sir George,” he replied. “If my half-brother should be so foolish as to be caught in the act, so to speak, I shall be the first to condemn him for his deplorable plots. I am well-known amongst those who matter as a man dedicated to the service of His Majesty and this country against the Jacobins and their sympathisers, and Ralph and I have never been…close. Naturally, no suspicion shall be attached to me.”

What you are is a traitor, George thought. A filthy, cruel, horrid traitor and an arrogant hypocrite, prepared to torture those you deem Jacobin criminals whilst using those of the same sympathies to rid yourself of a man whom you have deemed troublesome to you, who would be willing—even happy—to abandon your family, loathsome though he is, to the consequences of your shared scheme, just as long as you remain unscathed. It was then that he realised that he could not simply sit at Trenwith, hoping that this whole mess would somehow resolve itself. He would have to do something, would have to intervene. But how?

“I see,” he returned, trying to keep the coldness out of his voice. If he wished for Merceron to leave, he would have to let him believe that he had succeeded in persuading him not to protest the plan. “Well, please do not let me keep you, Mr Merceron. The roads here can be dangerous so late at night, and I should not wish to delay your return to Truro.”

Merceron did not move, staring at him narrowly.

“I should be pleased to hear that I have set your mind at ease on the matter,” he said. “It is unwise for allies to disagree when one wishes for one’s plans to succeed.”

George swallowed, mind racing. He needed to think of a plan of his own, needed to get rid of Merceron before it became too late to act.

“I see that there is little risk of the reputations of my family and myself being harmed by tonight’s events, whatever they may be” he lied through his teeth. “And if you feel that Mr Hanson’s actions, no matter how successful they are, shall not reflect on either of our…sympathies, I have no further objections to offer you.”

Merceron nodded, brisk and satisfied.

“Good, good,” he said. “Well, Sir George, I shall take my leave of you. If you do not object, I will take the liberty of calling upon you in the morning, where I hope to bring you good news.”

With those words, he turned on his heel and left through the heavy front door, without waiting to hear any potential objections to his visiting the next day that might have been issued. His departure did little to ease George’s mind, however. He had wasted too much time dithering, and he needed to act at once. A vague plan was beginning to form in his mind, but did he have the nerve or the daring to carry it out?

“Trigg!,” he called into the shadows once he was entirely sure that Merceron was gone. “Trigg!”

“Sir?” The footman stepped silently out into the candlelight, livery immaculate and face expressionless underneath his powdered wig.

“Trigg, would you be so good as to fetch me a pistol?,” he said, then, remembering that Hanson had been armed when he left Trenwith, amended his request. “Actually, it might be best if you bring me two.”

Trigg, who was usually so poised and professional, seemed to choose that moment to forget all the training he had ever received. He stared openly at his employer, utterly baffled.

“Two…pistols, sir?,” he asked, dumbfounded. “But whatever might you do with two pistols?”

His confusion was understandable—George had never been a shooting man, and even if he were, it was hardly likely that he would be inclined to shoot pheasant or whatever it was that such people hunted in pitch darkness—but the urgency of the situation had lead him to be, perhaps unfairly, a little short with the man.

“What one usually does with pistols, I imagine,” he replied, a bite of impatience in his voice. “I certainly don’t intend to dance the gavotte with them.”

Unfortunately, this only served to make Trigg more baffled.

“Should I call for Dr Enys, sir?”

George fought the urge to throw up his hands in frustration. Would this be his lot in life now—condemned to have his staff finding evidence that he was deranged in every out of the ordinary request he ever made? He heard the grandfather clock in the parlour begin to chime. No time, no time.

“For goodness’ sake, man,” he snapped. “I assure you I am not suffering under some unexpected fit of lunacy. Now please, make haste. I must go to Nampara, and as it is likely currently inhabited by an angry French General and a man with two pistols and no morals to speak of, it would be imprudent of me to arrive there unarmed.”

Some measure of comprehension began to dawn on Trigg’s face, clearly possessed of some inclination of what the two half-brothers had been planning, and, for once, George thanked God and the Devil for servants who listened at doors. If he wished to protest the prospect of his master flinging himself into imminent danger, he quickly masked any sign of it, and with a polite “of course, sir”, we went about his task with all possible swiftness. George felt himself relax only marginally.

“George!” Any relief that he had felt at Trigg obeying his orders was stamped out as his uncle stepped suddenly out through the parlour door to join him in the hall, a dark, angry look on his sour face. “What the devil are you doing?!”

George could only presume that Cary had overheard the last part of his exchange with Trigg, and from his expression, had been none too pleased with its contents. He swallowed nervously. The footman was one thing, but how on earth was he going to persuade his uncle?

“I am going to Nampara,” he said as calmly as he could. “This plan… Uncle, surely you see that they have gone too far?”

“It is perhaps a little…,” Cary conceded, just barely, working his jaw in displeasure. “But that is no reason for you to put yourself in danger! You—”

“But do you not see?!,” George exclaimed in exasperation. He needed to go, before it was too late. “These ‘Merceron devils’, as you term them, will put us all in danger if their scheme succeeds. What do you suppose General Toussard shall do should his plans remain undiscovered? You know he harbours ill intentions towards Cornwall, and to England, and I cannot in good conscience allow knowledge of his dealings to be suppressed.”

Cary threw up his hands in frustration.

“But why must it be you?!,” he barked. “What possible—?”

“Who else will intervene? Merceron has ensured well enough that nobody else will know of it.”

His uncle looked as if he were about to say something, but at that moment, Trigg returned with two loaded pistols in his hands. George moved to take them, but Cary’s hand shot out to seize his upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. He fought back a wince as the bony fingers dug into his flesh.

“I will not permit this” the man growled, eyes flashing, giving him a little shake to emphasise his words. George sent him a defiant look, tugging his arm sharply out of his grip.

“It is not for you to permit me anything,” he replied caustically. “I am no longer a child that you may scold into submission. Or do you perhaps mean to become my jailer once more? You will not find that so easy whilst I have all my wits about me.”

He had not forgotten the man’s role in subjecting him to the awful treatments of Dr Penrose, and apparently, neither had his uncle, for an uncomfortable look that seemed ill-suited to his dour countenance stole across his face, effectively silencing his protests. George sent him one last glare, before taking the pistols from Trigg, who had been standing silently to the side, pretending not to notice that his two employers were arguing fiercely in front of him. It seemed that Cary was not completely finished, however, for, before George could reach the door, he spoke once more.

“For God’s sake, nephew, do not do this!,” he cried. “Not for the sake of a man like Poldark!”

George turned back to meet his gaze, one hand resting against the heavy wooden door.

“It is not for his sake that I am doing this.”

And with that, he stepped through the doorway and out into the cold night air, without looking back.

***

He rode as fast as he could, glad of the full moon that hung high in the night sky—he wouldn’t have fancied his chances of arriving on time without it, at least not without running the risk of plummeting straight over a cliff in the dark. As it was, he made good time to Nampara, only allowing his horse to slow when the shambling old house came into sight. He thought he could just about make out a light in the window as he dismounted, but as he approached, nervously adjusting his grip on the two pistols Trigg had given him, he saw that something was wrong. Even though there was a low fire crackling in the grate of the parlour, there was nobody in the room. Nor could he hear any kind of movement from the house. Was he already too late? There didn’t seem to be any sign of a struggle, but nevertheless neither Ross nor Hanson were there. In that case, where could they be?

It was then that he noticed the faint sound of metal clashing upon metal drifting on the wind from a nearby barn. Was that…? He strained his ears, and again and again he heard it, clearer and more distinct now that he was listening for it. He crept forward cautiously, his grip on the two pistols white-knuckled, and, careful not to be heard or seen, slipped through the doorway and into the cavernous darkness, lit only by the thin beams of moonlight shining through the slats of the worn roof.

Well, he thought as he took in the scene that lay before him. You wanted to find both Ross and Hanson, and now you have. The reason behind that sound of clashing metal had become apparently clear the moment he had stepped into the barn—Ross was engaged in a fierce duel with a man whom George could only presume was General Toussaint, blades flashing as they danced furiously in the faint moonlight. Beyond them stood Hanson and—much to his surprise—Demelza, who looked pale and drawn and worried. Hanson still had one of his pistols, he saw, and was watching the two men fight with the calculating precision of a snake waiting to strike.

All of a sudden, it seemed as if Ross were about to overpower the General, and it was then that Hanson uncoiled, levelling his pistol directly between the man’s shoulders. George knew that he could no longer afford to wait. Almost without thinking, he raised the first pistol and pulled the trigger.

The bang was deafening, and so startled by it were the other inhabitants of the barn that they barely seemed to notice as General Toussaint crumpled into a heap on the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Ross staggered forward as his opponent collapsed, searching about him for the source of the noise. His expression of wide-eyed astonishment, so out of place on his usually scowling countenance, would have amused George in any other situation, but a movement out of the corner of his eye, past the other man’s shoulder, had caught his attention. Hanson. The man had floundered at the sight of him, stunned by the sudden turn of events, but as the General crumpled down upon the floor, and he came to understand exactly what it was that had happened, his expression turned black with rage. The movement which had caught George’s eye, he realised, was the pistol meant for Ross having found a new target. In a split second, he knew what the man was about to do. Eyes wide and alarmed, he pointed his second gun towards his would-be assailant and, forcing down the instinct to hesitate, pulled the trigger.

In the chaos of the moment, it was unclear which of them had fired first. Sparks flew, and George felt the smell of gunpowder sting in his nose, Hanson’s yell of pain echoing in his ears amid the reverberations of the shots. Other people were shouting as well, he thought, but it all seemed strangely distant as he noticed a sudden, sharp pain in his side. The pistols slipped from his hand as the world tilted alarmingly, but there was no accompanying thud to the ground, as if someone had caught him from behind. More shouting, desperate and urgent, but his world had narrowed entirely to that pain, a strange darkness beginning to encroach on his vision. There was a reason why he should try to fight it, he thought, but he could not remember why. Yes, why?

Well, at least I might see Elizabeth again, was the last thing he thought before he allowed the blackness to swallow him whole.

#poldark #poldark fic #george warleggan #cary warleggan #joseph merceron #ross poldark #ralph hanson #general toussaint #poldark au #poldark s5 #moving forward #post s5 au #mine #fic #my fic

[ladyandtheghost]

Reason #14: Sansa’s two “Loves”

So I was thinking...between this deranged dream boat

...and this nice, but gay dream boat

Sansa has NOT been in love with anyone throughout the entire series. Clearly the “point” that is being made with this (so far) is: romantic dreams don’t come true - that prince on his white horse is in truth either a monster or his love is not real (cause he’s gay). Sansa - who was the most romantic dreamer in the whole story - has said it herself: she does not sing anymore, she knows no songs of romance anymore. Because all the songs were fake and wrong...

Theoretically, GoT could end with Sansa on the throne or in some position of safety and power (QitN) in which she lives comfortably as a single widow, having lost all hopes of romance and not caring for it. The question is - is that Sansa’s narrative? Of ALL the characters, Sansa arc has never been anything else but tied to romance/love/marriage/sex --- none of the other characters, male or female --- had a character arc that was so entirely focused on this part of life. 

And what is more, none of the other characters has had such bad luck in love. Every other (main) character has some kind of “benign” romance that is either mutual or if not at least somewhat hopeful and positive: 

Ned and Cat

Jon and Ygritte

Dany and Drogo (and Daario) (and Jorah) (and Jon???)

Sam and Gilly

Cersei and Jaime (weird yes, but they still call it love)

Brienne and Jaime (and Tormund)

Tyrion and Shae

Tommen and Margaery (one sided maybe, but not really harmful)

Myrcella and Trystane

Oberyn and Ellaria

Yara and Ellaria (could have become something)

Theon and Ros 

Bran and Meera (if only he wasn’t the old raven)

Arya and Gendry  

Robb and Talisa

Edmure and Roslin

Bronn and Tyene (and Lollys) 

Loras and Renly

Missandei and Greyworm

We know Tywin loved Joanna

And even freaking Ramsay had Myranda, Roose had Fat Walda and Joffrey was happy to be in love with Margaery until he choked...

Almost EVERY character listed here (and the list goes on) has had some sort of actual “romance” that was reciprocated, fulfilled and made them “happy” at least for a while...OR has the strong promise of becoming that (Gendry/Arya, Brienne/Jaime, etc.)

All. But. Sansa. 

And I do not mean in any way to imply that the above^^ characters do not *deserve* love or romance...they all do (except for Ramsay, Roose and Joff of course) -- it only makes me wonder big time WHY Sansa’s entire story arc is about romance, marriage and love...and yet, according to people who do not see Jonsa happening, there has been absolutely no one on the current horizon who is not a creeping Littlefinger or a sadistic bastard...

Some will probably shout at me now: What of Tyrion? How ‘bout Sandor?

And I say: all is possible...and yet, both Tyrion and the Hound have had nothing whatsoever to do with Sansa for a long long time. The Hound’s “bond” with the Starks has very clearly shifted from one sister to the other - and his talking to Brienne about caring for Arya was making this clear. Both the Hound’s and Tyrion’s attraction to a 14 year old Sansa were shown to be “problematic” in one way or another and they both knew it. Not to mention that there is no indication that Sansa as she is now would suddenly look at them and fall madly in love for no particular reason but to see them again and be grateful for their “kindness” towards her in KL. 

So...

All of Sansa’s explicit “suitors” (living and dead) are in some way made deliberately UNLIKELY to become that elusive romance nd “great love” (who loves her for herself and not for her name) that her character arc keeps promising and hinting at...

Joffrey: no need to elaborate - Psycho No.1 

Ramsay: Psycho No.2. That’s all. 

Littlefinger: Psyc...well, pedo-stalker-uncle also covers it (not to mention got her family killed and betrayed). And - actually “loved” Cat. Sansa was only the “replacement goldfish” 

Sandor: See, it’s not his looks that puts me off of this one (or the age gap), but there is such a stark opposition in character and disposition (that I’m sure a lot of SanSan fans find attractive in this ship and that’s perfectly fine, it just doesn’t appeal to me) that makes this pairing feel weird and incompatible to me (in a similar way that I find Jon and D absolutely incompatible character wise) 

Tyrion: I could see it happening, I won’t deny it. Because they already went as far as to marry them and of all the suitors Sansa had - he is hands down the kindest, sanest, and most suitable one. BUT: Apart from a guilty attraction to her, again with guiltily pedo-overtones, Tyrion saw Sansa as a girl who needed his protection - whereas Sansa was less than attracted to him (in fact, I think she felt more attraction towards LF at some point in time than Tyrion), which does not necessarily mean that this could not “grow” over time, but I simply do not see how this “time” could be shown on a show that has only a handful of episodes left. In short: Tyrion is the only alternative I could “see” happening for Sansa if she is to have a romance and Jonsa would not happen/or was as doomed as Jonerice definitely is. What also speaks against it narrative-wise in my opinion is Sansa marrying, or rather re-marrying a Lannister. Why would that happen? Because they are madly in love? Because someone forces them --- yeah, like that’s so Season 3. Been there, done that. 

In the books there is Harry the Heir and even on the show, lots of us (including myself) crack-shipped Sansa and Dickon for the simple reason that he *could* have been that nice, hapless, honorable candidate (i.e. THE OPPOSITE OF JOFFREY AND RAMSAY!!!) 

The question is therefore...is there perhaps another character...someone who has a strong bond with Sansa, who is already an established character and actually become the center of her arc (that is all about romance/marriage/love)...someone who is perhaps brave, gentle and strong “compatible” to her character-wise and also shares her hopes, dreams, attitudes and sentiments....someone who it turns out is conveniently revealed to be no closer related to her than a cousin would be...

AND who is preferably the ABSOLUTE OPPOSITE OF RAMSAY AND JOFFREY???

Could there possibly be such a “Suitor” somewhere *hidden away* in the subtext...I wonder...I wonder....

#jonsa #jon x sansa #sansa stark #suitors #it's time #meta

[aion-rsa]

The Addams Family: Revisiting Barry Sonnenfeld’s Directorial Debut 30 Years Later

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“We would gladly feast on those who would subdue us.” These are not just pretty words, but the motto of The Addams Family. Originally released on Nov. 22, 1991, the comedy about lovable and pioneering psychopaths, fiends, mad-dog killers, and brutes hits its 30th anniversary this year. To celebrate, the film will be released for the first time on Digital 4K Ultra HD on Oct. 19, and has the full sequence of the Mamushka dance restored in its entirety. Paramount Home Entertainment says the release is timed for Halloween, but every day is a dark holiday for fans of The Addams Family.

While both Uncle Fester (Christopher Lloyd) and Wednesday (Christina Ricci) might prefer to spend their holidays in the Bermuda Triangle, Gomez (Raul Julia) and Morticia (Anjelica Huston) need go no further than the family plot for their most relaxed reposts. Charles Addams’ characters have happily blighted American culture since The New Yorker published his first one-panel cartoon in 1938. In the 1960s, The Addams Family premiered on the same day as The Munsters debut, though both were ultimately taken down by the caped crusaders of Batman. The TV series codified many amorphous aspects of the comic, including family names, Thing, and the theme song. Written by songwriter Vic Mizzy, it was so memorable it inspired the Addams clan’s most imaginative reimagining.

Before remakes of The Flintstones, The Beverly Hillbillies, My Favorite Martian, and Sgt. Bilko tried to recapture the light comedy of TV’s Golden Age, Twentieth Century Fox’s big-screen version of The Addams Family tarnished the landscape. The screenplay was written by Caroline Thompson and Larry Wilson, and punched up by an uncredited Paul Rudnick, who would write the screenplay for Addams Family Values (1993).

The Addams Family marked the feature debut of director Barry Sonnenfeld, who had been cinematographer for such films as the Coen Brothers’ Blood Simple, Raising Arizona, and Miller’s Crossing, as well as Danny DeVito’s homage to Alfred Hitchcock, Throw Mama from the Train, Rob Reiner’s When Harry Met Sally…, and Penny Marshall’s Big. He would go on to direct Men in Black I and II. Get Shorty, and A Series of Unfortunate Events. Sonnenfeld’s storytelling camera exposed the spookiest of the creeps to be the modern world, while the strange, deranged Addamses are the most permissive of units, equally accepting of all but the most wholesome good cheer.

To celebrate the reissue of The Addams Family, Den of Geek threw on a shawl and paid a call on Sonnenfeld, who spoke openly about It, Thing, and other things.

Den of Geek: What was it about The Addams Family that said “this is the first feature I have to direct?”

I wasn’t looking to direct. I was reThe Addams Family’s Barry Sonnenfeld breaks down the Mamushka, his directorial saddle, and James Gandolfini’s patois.ally happy as a cameraman. I was a couple of weeks from finishing Misery for Rob Reiner, and Scott Rudin sent me the script for Addams Family. The script wasn’t very good, but if there was one script that would make sense for me to be the director on, as a first-time director, it would be The Addams Family. It’s quirky. It’s dark. It’s black comedy. And I grew up with the Charles Addams cartoons in The New Yorker. Every week my dad would read The New Yorker, and I would look through to see if there was a Charles Addams drawing in there. So, it was the perfect first thing for me to do because it let me do a lot of visual stylizations, but also be very true to Charles Addams’ tone, which the original script didn’t do, and we worked with Paul Rudnick to get it there.

I spoke with Charles Addams’ biographer, who said the screen versions were never as dark as the comics. But with lines like “widows and orphans, we need more of them,” I think you captured it best. What was so jokey about the first draft of it?

You know, I don’t remember, but it was much more like the TV show, there were comedy scenes and jokey scenes and slapstick. It felt like it was one step short of a banana peel kind of script. There are so many moments where I just stole Charles Addams’ images and put it into our movie. Gomez playing with the train set and me looking over it and seeing Gomez’s face? That was a New Yorker cartoon. The cauldron, in the opening scene, where they pour oil on the carolers on Christmas Eve, is a Charles Adams cartoon. I even stole, well used, a concept in the teaser. Charles Addams drew this drawing: you’re in a movie theater and there’s a woman on the screen and the woman is going like [screams] and everyone in the audience is turned to see what she’s screaming at, as if the woman on the screen is actually seeing something in the theater.

How do we know which are your visual gags and which are the gags that you lifted from the cartoon?

Well, the ones I’m telling you I got from the cartoon, but it’s a good question. Charles Addams never had a moving camera, so he couldn’t follow Thing around a house from a séance to a door. One of the things I’m proud of is putting the full Mamushka back in there, which is one of the add-ons for this 4K version. To get Marc Shaiman and Comden and Green to write the song and actually film this whole dance number. That’s not Charles Addams, but the tone is. They’re throwing blades and juggling knives and Fester swallows one. In tone, Charles Addams, in execution, Barry.

Charles Addams had a crazy apartment in Manhattan with suits of armor and torture devices. And you have a public bathroom as a bathroom, and direct movies from a saddle. Will you ever direct one from a mechanical bull?

No, it’s too heavy and you don’t want to make the crew carry it around from location to location. I often dress like a cowboy. I wear a cowboy hat. I wear cowboy boots. And at the end of Men in Black II, which was 20 years ago, the crew, as a joke when we wrapped, gave me a saddle and it sits on an Apple box. And ever since then, we’ve improved the saddle. It now has various drawers for my medications and bottles of water.

Now, I have a second saddle that on A Series of Unfortunate Events, we actually took a Rascal, which is one of those things that old people use to get around like Walmart and stuff, in the villages down in Florida, and we put a saddle on that. So now I have a motorized saddle so I can just drive myself up to the actors and go, “OK, just do it again, just a lot faster.” And then I pull on a joystick and go back to the monitor or to the camera. So yeah, I’m a quirky guy, and I always say I take my work seriously, but I don’t take myself seriously. So that’s how I get through the day on the set.

I heard the Mamushka was cut because of a test audience. How does that feel to have to cut something so fully formed and fun?

That’s half true. When you have a recruited-audience screening, you don’t really need tests. You don’t need them to fill out forms. Just being in the theater, you sense when people start to cough or fidget. You always want every scene to move the story forward. If you can cut a scene out of your movie and it doesn’t affect the plot or emotions, the scene shouldn’t be in there. And the problem is, before the Mamushka there is a very long lead-up to the Mamushka. We introduce Lumpy Addams, we introduce Flora and Fauna Amour, and there’s this endless setup. 

Dede Allen, who was a brilliant editor, and I felt we should leave all of the Mamushka in, but get rid of some of the stuff before, because somewhere in there we weren’t moving the plot forward, and we could sense the audience getting just a little bit fidgety. And at the end of the day, instead of losing the stuff before the Mamushka, we cut the Mamushka in half because it was an easy way to just cut into it in the middle.

But I regretted that decision. It’s the only time I’ve ever wanted to make anything longer. Joel and Ethan, they produce special editions, and they’re always shorter. The Blood Simple special edition is shorter than the original. Joel and Ethan and I are working on a rerelease of Miller’s Crossing for Criterion. And Joel is actually reediting the movie and making it shorter. This is the only time I’ve ever wanted to lengthen anything, and I really miss the full Mamushka because it starts wonderfully. Raul Julia is such a brilliant theatrical actor, on Broadway musicals, so I regretted taking out the first half.

How did the Mamushka inform Schmigadoon!?

Well, I’m not a fan of musicals, but yet I seem to know how to shoot them. I’ll tell you the truth. I think that most dance movies and most modern musicals don’t know how to shoot. There are too many inserts. Too many cutaways. In both the Mamushka and Schmigadoon!, we see full bodies, we see people dancing head to toe. We played everything very proscenium, in wide shots, so you can see whole dancers. The way they used to shoot musicals. I’m just not a fan, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to shoot them.

What is the Fred Astaire connection to Thing and is Thing you as a living camera?

I think the camera is me. I love how energetic and self-aware and self-important the camera is in everything I do because it’s me saying, “Hey, here I am. I know I’m not on screen, but pay attention to me.” That’s why, in Raising Arizona and Throw Mama from the Train, I do all these wacky camera moves. It’s so the people know that I’m the cinematographer or the director. Fred Astaire, he’s a darn good dancer. Thing was good too, and what I loved about Thing is, again, he wasn’t CGI. It was always Christopher Hart, with a black sleeve, coming up Gomez’s shoulder or sticking his hand underneath through a hole in the table. But ninety five percent of Thing, 98 percent is real Christopher Hart. And he was patient and brilliant and worked long hours.

The casting, obviously, is perfect, but Christina Ricci was 10 years old. Was she just born, fully formed, as a comic genius?

Yeah, very flat. Knew never to hit the comedy. That’s what I loved about her. She never hit the comedy. Just said the lines as flat as possible. She was joyful to work with because my whole motto is: fast and flat. I don’t want to hear any intonation, just say the lines without any artifice. And she was perfection and the epitome of Charles Addams, which is find the joke. I’m not going to tell you where the joke is, but you’ll find it. And that’s Christina’s acting style.

It would seem that there’d be very little improvisation on your sets. How do you let actors play?

I really think that if your script is really good, a good screenwriter is a good screenwriter and actors are not necessarily writers. Actors can often say, “I don’t know how to say this line” or “this doesn’t sound like me,” or “this is a real tongue twister.” But in general, if your script is good, you really don’t want a lot of improv. I would, sometimes, have Will Smith improv, and he would come up with some really funny, funny ideas, like in the first Men in Black, the stuff you couldn’t write. For instance, Will is chasing this alien, the alien jumps off the top of the Guggenheim Museum. He’s now chasing him and Will jumps off, and he did this stunt. He jumps off this bridge and lands on a double decker tourist bus, and stands up and says “it be raining black people.” You’re not going to write that line, but Will said it. But yes, very little improv.

The worst part of the filmmaking process is shooting the film. I love pre-production. I’ve got all the time. There’s no pressure. I can design all these great shots. I can write shot lists. The DP can come in and say, Do we need a techno crane for this? When you say boom up or is this on a dolly? So, it’s all worked out.

I love post-production because your movie, when you’re done filming, is as bad as it’s ever going to be. And now, in post you get to make the movie better again. You know that scene where you needed the sunset? It was raining, but you had to shoot anyway. That extra ruined every take. Even though he only had one line. He never got it right. So, you get rid of that. The thing I like the least is shooting, because nothing ever gets better. Except “it be raining black people.” That got better. That’s pretty funny.

I don’t like the pressure of figuring stuff out on the set. I always say, do you want to try something? It’s usually not different words. But maybe they want to be angrier. Or maybe they want to be less angry. Or maybe they want to try not crying, but it won’t be “Let’s do an improv.” I hate improv. I’ll tell you. Raging Bull has amazing, amazing, amazing fight sequences, but some of those improv scenes with De Niro and Pesci. You just feel the improv and it drives me crazy. So, there, I insulted Marty Scorsese.

Who first noticed Raul Julia had the burst blood vessel?

I noticed that. I said, “Raul, what happened?” And he said, “I was at a bar last night and I was just sitting at the bar and my eyeball just fell out on the table.” It can’t be true. An eyeball is attached to an optic nerve and. And he said, “Yeah, the eyeball just popped up out and you know, it’s unrolled and I picked it up and I put it back in my eye. But I guess I scratched it.” I said, “OK, that’s a good story. But we can’t shoot with you today because it was really red.” And then the next day it was better. But I love that he had to create a dramatic story because that’s who Raul was.

One of my favorite movies is Get Shorty. What was it like to work with James Gandolfini back then?

It’s really funny. Gandolfini, in the movie, plays a stuntman, and Gandolfini came to me and he said, “You know what? I think this guy is from North Carolina. I know so many stunt guys who are all from North Carolina. So, I’m going to make him be from North Carolina, and I’m going to give him just a little accent.” I said, “Bad idea. Don’t do it.” And he said, “Why?” I said “You’ll never talk fast enough.” And he said, “What do you mean?” I said, “I’m going to ask you to talk faster and you’re going to say, ‘no, there’s a certain lilt to people that talk in North Carolina,’ and I’m going to say, “you’ve got to do it faster” and you’re going to have a problem with that because you’re from North Carolina.

He said, “Please give me this.” And I stupidly said, OK, I think you’re making a bad decision. But if you think you can talk fast enough. The whole time [shooting], I’d say “Gandolfini, you gotta do it faster.” And he goes, “Yeah, I know, but there’s a certain patois and rhythm.” I go, “Yeah, exactly. And that’s why.”

Anyway, the movie is done. He sees the finished movie and he comes up to me and he says “You were right. I was wrong.” And so, he was lovely to work with. Piece of cake to work with. Easy. But I wish he didn’t have that sort of slight North Carolina accent, because I think it did slow down his performance. Just the littlest bit. I think we get away with it. So that was what it was like working with Gandolfini. Lovely guy who wouldn’t listen to me about no accent.

How does shooting nine porno features in nine days prepare you for the subversive comedy of The Addams Family?

Well, going back before then, what I taught the producer on those nine pornos in nine days was to block shoot. We would light, and we shot all those movies in the loft on 17th Street and Sixth Avenue. I taught him the only way we can shoot nine entire features is to light a set like the dentist’s office set, or the bedroom set, and shoot scene three of movie one, scene four for movie two, scene seven of movie three and shoot out sets.

I learned at film school that filming is all about pre-production. So, when it came time to be a director, I had already shot nine feature films and an additional nine pornos and a lot of TV. For me, it’s all about pre-production, all about prep. Even on those porno films, it was: light a scene, light a set and shoot everything you can in that set before you move on. Other than that, I didn’t learn anything except don’t work on pornos.

I heard that you were hospitalized, and there were quite a few mishaps on the set of The Addams Family.

I fainted. The day before, we had shot Thing at the séance, and they hear a knock at the door and Thing runs, and we follow Thing. That Thing is Chris Hart on a dolly, doing this with his hands, going down the hallway and we’re following. And Chris is on the same dolly with his hand, that was all in camera. But because it was such a wide lens, and because we had to go through so many rooms, it took two thirds of a day to shoot that one shot, and we probably had 15 shots to do that day.

So, I went home and didn’t sleep all night. I literally was trying to figure out what I could lose in the next day’s shooting to make up for the time, and I realized I should have had Thing leave frame at the end. And I didn’t. But I couldn’t reshoot that because it took us nine hours to light and shoot it. So, the entire night I stayed away trying to stay on schedule, stay on budget, what could I do?

The next morning, I was still awake, on the set during first set-up I drank my fifth espresso in a row, and then I heard [cinematographer] Owen Roizman say “get a blanket.” and discovered I had fainted and was on the ground. There was a lot of pressure and I was a first-time director. We were going over schedule, over budget. Our film had been sold from Orion to Paramount. That was a big change of regimes and working styles. So, it was a very tough first film because it was very ambitious.

Did the cast send in Christina Ricci to beg not to have Fester be an imposter?

Oh yeah. After our table read, by that time we had hired Paul Rudnick to do a rewrite and we had read his rewrite, the movie ended with Fester still being the imposter, and Gomez knew he was the imposter, but said, “You know what? Family is a state of mind. It’s not biology. Welcome to our family.” And we thought that was a good ending.

But the cast was totally freaked out. After we were done with the table read, they huddled in the corner. They made Christina Ricci their spokesperson, and they all came back and they said, “We hate this ending. It can end this way.” And then Angelica said, “Christina?” And Christina said, “Well, Barry, here’s the problem. The audience will not accept that ending because you haven’t answered all those questions. Where is Fester? Will he come back? Has Gomez suddenly fallen in love with imposter Fester so much that he no longer cares about his brother?”

And what Scott Rudin and Rudnick and I realized is we had created an intellectually satisfying ending, but not an emotionally satisfying ending. And the cast of actors, being actors, went right for where the emotional heart was. Christina was so articulate that I looked over to Rudnick and I said, “I think we’re going to need a new ending.” And Rudnick said, “Yeah, I think we are.” And thank God that they rebelled because our ending is so much more satisfying emotionally than if he still had remained the impostor Fester.

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The Addams Family reissue will hit select theaters and be released on Digital 4K Ultra HD on October 19.

The post The Addams Family: Revisiting Barry Sonnenfeld’s Directorial Debut 30 Years Later appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[charliejrogers]

Paddington (2014)

Sometimes you watch a movie and want to be challenged. You want your head to explode. You want to get lost in a world of plot twists and double-crosses. Other times you don’t. TV more often than movies fills the role of comfort food for people looking for passive media, but let’s all take a moment to recognize the power of a good comfort movie. Sometimes your comfort movie is that dumb rom-com you’ve seen 1000 times, other times a mindless action movie of good vs. evil. Many comic book movies certainly can fall into this camp, but really any series like Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings can become comfort food whenever those fans begin to think of the characters more like old friends than avatars on a screen. And never is that more true than when a childhood friends makes their way onto the big screen.

I don’t believe I have ever read (or has someone read to me) a Paddington book. In fact, after writing that sentence I had to Google whether Paddington was a series or a single book. I’m not from the U.K. so please excuse my ignorance. It’s not that people in America don’t know Paddington he’s just not as popular here as he is across the pond. Therefore when this hit theater six years ago and I heard critics rave about it, I didn’t get it. Christ, it was even nominated for the best British film at the BAFTAs in 2015. There was Paddington, a family movie about a walking, talking bear, right next a serious drama about Stephen Hawking (The Theory of Everything) and the very adult ScarJo sci-fi film Under the Skin. Plus, think also I was at an age where I was “too cool” for kid’s stuff. I was in college, so why watch a movie that could make you happy when you could watch something that could project to others how smart you thought you were. All of this is to say that, I went into this movie without the advantage of nostalgia, something I suspected might have been boosting audiences’ and critics’ scores.

Paddington from director Paul King tells the story of one unnamed Peruvian bear who is among the last of his kind. What makes this particular species of bear so special is their uniquely high intelligence. The film starts with a black-and-white film reel documenting the journeys of the explorer who was the first among men to stumble upon this particular subset of bear, sometimes back in the early 1900s. The explorer first instinct is to hunt and kill the bear to bring back to a British museum, but he is eventually won over by the sheer intelligence of the bears. They are already master builders and have developed unique, modern-looking housing structures when the explorer first finds them, but quickly he discovers they can understand English,  can even reproduce it to some extent, and are adept at new technologies. The explorer leaves them with a phonograph and a record of him talking about how to be a proper gentleperson in London.

Fast forward some hundred years, and the original two bears the explorer essentially perfected their understanding of English based off the explorer’s record. They also know quite a bit about early 20th-century etiquette and about a hundred different ways to tell fellow Londoners that it is raining outside. And though now aged and frail, they have passed much of this knowledge onto their young nephew whose character can be summed up by the following four traits: 1) undying love for his aunt and uncle who raise him 2) utmost and strict adherence to etiquette 3) deep desire to belong to a home 4) obsession with marmelaide.

All four of those things turn out to be of vital importance when disaster strikes his home in Peru and he is forced by his aunt to seek a new home in the only other place they know: London! With only his uncle’s hat and a marmelaide sandwich on his head, the bear stows away on a freighter to London. He heads to the nearest train station as he has heard stories about how during WWI, orphaned children would show up to train stations wearing certain necklaces to signify their need for a home. The bear does just that, but the world of 1914 is very much different from the world of 2014. People don’t so much as look at the bear. If they do, they assume he’s a poor beggar, vendor of cheap goods, or just a plain con-artist. They’re too busy rushing this way and that. “In the age of technology, Britain has lost its way” the film seems to suggest. Or, more cynically, it seems to make a comment (albeit) on xenophobia and Britain’s lack of openness to immigrants, especially prominent given the distinctly colonial feel of the explorer’s documentary and his attitudes towards these “primitive” creatures.

Except, of course, this is a light-hearted family film. A fantasy film at that. For example, no one is freaked the fuck out like they would in real life by a talking bear roaming around a major metropolitan area, in some cases doing serios damage (albeit accidentally) to various property throughout town. E.T. this is not, so there’s no plotline of the government trying to snatch him up for research purposes, nor does this apparently talk place in our reality where the bear would become an instant viral internet star.

Instead, as a family film, the movie mostly focuses on the idea of “family.” The bear is eventually approached by Mary Brown (Sally Hawkins), the matriarch of the Brown family who are a well-off family who live in a cozy townhouse in a quaint London neighborhood. Mary is more empathetic to the bear’s plight than her ill-tempered husband Henry (Hugh Bonneville) who is a risk analyst who sees the bear for what he is: a risk! Still, he begrudgingly agrees to let the bear, who names himself Paddington, stay with them for one night, but then he’s off to the orphanage  institution for young souls whose parents have sadly passed on.

Mr. Brown’s not wrong about Paddington (voiced by Ben Whishaw) too. Despite his undeniably genuine nature and complete absence of my ill-will, he’s a natural klutz. His childlike innocence and curiosity finds him tinkering with things that just ought not to be tinkered leading to a movie defined by its many great misadventurous set pieces, such as when Paddington accidentally floods the Brown’s bathroom to when a pickpocket accidentally drops a wallet that he stole and Paddington begins chasing him around London in grand fashion, not understanding why the thief doesn’t want his wallet back.

More than anything, though, Mr. Brown’s hostility towards Paddington stems more from his concern for his children, specifically that his son Jonathan (Samuel Joslin) will end up being hurt either as a direct result of Paddington’s activities or will simply try more daring things inspired by Paddington’s free-wheeling and wild spirit.

What I love about the character of Mr. Brown, who truly seems to be the secondary character after the titular bear, is the way he is a true character and not a one-dimensional rule-follower. The way the film (comically) demonstrates that Henry Brown was not always Mr. Brown, but was a motorcycle-riding Wildman who was suddenly and permanently changed by fatherhood makes him an incredibly relatable character, and grounds this silly cartoon in something of a reality.

Less can be said about Mary Brown. Sally Hawkins does a wonderful job portraying her seemingly boundless kindness and love, but ultimately there’s not more to her character than just being nice and kind. Her only story arc revolves her relationship with the Browns’ daughter Judy (Madeleine Harris) who is a stereotypically moody teen who doesn’t want to introduce her boyfriend to her Mom because, as Paddington puts it, “she suffers from a terrible disease called embarrassment.”

But no one’s watching this movie to watch the Browns or learn about their characters. It’s nice that Mr.’s character is so well-established as it makes his little sacrifices and gestures to try to help Paddington so satisfying. One second he was pushing to get Paddington out of his home, the next he’s in a dress breaking into an archives to learn more about the explorer who originally visited Paddington’s aunt and uncle one hundred years prior.

This little detour to the archives relates to one of the two other sub-plots to the film. The first is how Paddington’s quest to find a new home (since Mr. Brown refuses to let him stay with his family forever) leads him to want to find the explorer (or at least the explorer’s family) since he figures they of all people would love to take in as family a bear whom their father had so loved. The second subplot (and the more hackneyed and boring plot) deals with Nicole Kidman’s Millicent, a deranged, taxidermist employee of London’s Natural History who has a nasty side hobby and collecting (and stuffing) rare animals. She hears rumors of a talking bear, she starts to hunt him. Kidman actually does a very good job leading a cartoonish seriousness to the role, but just the whole subplot feels very perfunctory, like the studio was afraid no one would want to watch a movie that didn’t have a clear bad guy. Add in a sub-plot to this sub-plot where the Browns’ sad-sack neighbor Mr. Curry (Peter Capaldi) teams up with Millicent in the hopes of being her lover, and you got my least favorite part of this movie.

Taking away the villain plot would deny the Browns the opportunity to rescue their little friend from the jaws of danger, and prevent me from seeing that tear-jerking display of love with which the film ends, so I suppose it’s worth it. With snow falling around them and love in the air, Paddington with its focus on the importance of family, is almost a Christmas movie, or at the least is a perfect movie for the holiday season.

It’s also funny for all ages. I can imagine sitting in a theater with children and hearing the little cackles of children as Paddington fights a shower head using a toilet seat lid as shield and toilet brush as sword. The film does not go for easy jokes. Its physical comedy is often elaborate, and there are plenty of jokes meant for the adults in the room that aren’t necessarily sexual in nature. For example, the Browns’ daughter is learning Chinese “for business,” which means she’s learning phrases such as “How do I get to the business center?” and “I’m being investigated for tax fraud.” But more than anything, it’s a distinctly British film in its humor, favoring throw-away lines and sight-gags over fart jokes. One of my favorites in the idea that Millicent’s office is full of taxidermied heads of exotic animals, and when she walks into her workshop on the other side of the wall, we see all the rear-ends of these same animals. Another pitch perfect moment is when a downtrodden Paddington finds himself at Buckingham Palace and having revealed the sandwich he keeps under his hat for emergencies, we find out what things the Queen’s Guard keeps under their Bearskins. It’s silly and ridiculous in a way perfect for a kid’s film.

I also love how the film gives us a view of the world through Paddington’s eyes, and I give much credit to the film’s director Paul King for translating for us through film Paddington’s essential innocence. Twice, once towards the beginning, and once at the end, the film presents us with a toy-house that is an exact replica of the Brown’s home and we can actually see the Browns walking about and interacting in this odd meta-moment as Paddington narrates their goings on and provides his interpretation of what is happening. It lends an air of frivolity to our lives. Yes, the world is sad an hard, but for those innocents, the children, it’s a world of wonder and curiosity, a dollhouse in which anything is possible.

In the end, this movie is damn near perfect comfort food. It’s family focus creates a heart-warming tale that helps tries to inspire us that, despite our splintered isolated world, the world can be a place of love and welcoming. I wish the villain weren’t such a drag, but I am happy to report that despite not having any contact with Mr. Paddington in my life previously, I fell in love with his character almost instantly and am very happy to count him among my cinematic friends and follow him on any of his next adventures.

*** 1/4 (Three and one fourth stars out of four)

#paddington #paddington (2014) #paul king #ben whishaw #sally hawkins #hugh bonneville #nicole kidman #peter capaldi

[officialmccall]

Believe It or Not. Part 22.

(Based off episode 2x10, “Fury”)

Stiles, Scott and Y/n all stood on the creaky wood flooring of Stiles’ bedroom, desperately trying to get through to the sheriff.

“So this is the kid’s real killer?” Mr. Stilinski asked unconvinced.

“Yeah!” Stiles sighed.

“No.” Was the only reply he got from his dad.

“Yes!” the boy yelled back, “Dad, come on. Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So all he had to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out, which class they all had in common.” Stiles persuaded.

“Yeah,” the sheriff rolled his eyes, “except for the fact that the rave promoter Kara wasn’t in Harris’s class.”

“All right, okay, you’re right, sorry. Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?” Stiles confidently challenged his father.

“No, you know what? They’re not dropping the charges. But that doesn’t prove anything. Scott, Y/n, do you believe this?” He motioned towards the twins.

“It’s really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us. We know it’s Matt.” Scott defended Stiles, Y/n nodding her head in agreement.

“Yeah, he took Harris’s car okay? Look, he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris’s class, that they’d arrest him.”

Stiles dramatically provided the proof.

“All right, fine. I’ll allow the remote possibility, but give me a motive. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and it’s coach dead?”

“Isn’t it obvious!” Stiles shouted, “Our swim team sucks!”

Y/n just placed her head in her hands at the sudden comment from the boy, knowing it definitely wasn’t helping their goal to get the sheriff to believe them.

“We don’t have a motive yet,” She interrupted to save Stiles, “But, come on do you have a motive for Harris?” She questioned, causing the sheriff to raise his eyes at her realizing the accuracy of the point she just made.

“What do you want me to do?” Mr. Stilinski sighed focusing on Y/n.

“We need to look at the evidence.” She replied.

“Yeah, that would be in the station, where I no longer work.” He pointedly glanced at Stiles after the last statement.

“Trust me. They’ll let you in.” His son encouraged.

“Trust you?” The sheriff pretty much laughed, Stiles reactively taking a step back. The boy glanced over his shoulder before turning back to his dad, pointing behind him with his thumb before cautiously suggesting, “Trust- trust Y/n?”

“Y/n,” the sheriff hesitated, “I trust.”

---

“It’s two in the morning.” They were greeted by the deputy behind the desk at the station.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t extremely important.”

Behind the sheriff, Stiles whispered to his two companions, “We look at the hospital stuff first, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because all the murders were committed by Jackson, except for one, you remember?”

“The pregnant girl, Jessica.” Y/n stated the signal that she understood where Stiles was coming from.

“Yeah. Since Matt had to kill her himself, somebody from the hospital could’ve seen him.

As the deputy let them all through, they made their way back to the sheriff’s old office, waiting patiently as he pulled up all the evidence they had for the case on the screen of the computer.

“Oh, hold on, stop! Did you see that? Scroll back.” Scott instructed as they scrolled through hours of hospital security footage.

“That’s him! That’s Matt!” Stiles exclaimed while looking at the screen.

“All I see is the back of someone’s head.” The sheriff replied somewhat annoyed.

“Matt’s head, yeah, I sit behind behind him in history. He’s got a very distinct cranium, it’s weird.”

As he babbled Y/n just rolled her eyes, “What’s weird is that you won’t stop talking.” She snapped at him.

He looked back at her and just squinted his eyes at her, mocking her facial expression before turning back around.

“Okay can we scroll forward,” Scott asked, “There’s gotta be a shot of him coming at one of the camera’s.”

They all watched for a few more minutes before they spotted the same figure.

“Right there!” Stiles shouted, “Stop, stop! See, there he is again.”

“You mean the back of someone’s head agan?” the sheriff sassed his son.

“Okay, but look he’s talking to someone.”

Scott and Y/n focused harder on the screen, absolutely recognizing the person talking to Matt.

“That’s our mom.” Scott whispered, and Y/n felt her heart sink a little bit.

“Yeah… our mom.” She trailed off quietly to herself. Trying to solve the mystery that is Matt and the kanima for the last few hours has taken her mind off the other crazy events from tonight.

She wanted to believe Scott when he told her it was just a hallucination, but he didn’t know what that hallucination was. As she looked at her mom on the video footage, she couldn’t help but just hope that she was actually looking at her mom. She wasn’t sure if she could handle someone else she loved lying to her.

While Scott was on the phone with Melissa, getting her to come to the station to make a statement that she had seen Matt at the hospital that day Stiles immediately noticed the uneasy vibe that he was getting from Y/n,

“Hey, he approached gently, “you okay?”

Y/n quickly wiped underneath her eyes before glancing up at Stiles’ concerned face, “yeah, all good.” She lied, “just hoping this is done and over with tonight.

“Why don’t you boys go to the front desk,” Mr. Stilinski interrupted, “tell them to let Melissa in when she gets here.

Y/n used the request as an escape to break eye contact with Stiles. He stared at her a little more, almost begging for a trace of the truth to break through her features. But had to give up and leave the room with Scott, leaving Y/n alone with the sheriff.

---

“Derek- can you hear me?” Deaton attempted to reach the unconscious alpha as he stood in the ruins of the Hale house, “ Derek- can you hear me? I need you to answer me, Derek. Derek! We don’t have much time.”

The alpha finally fluttered his eyes open and glanced at Deaton, “you’re gonna be weak for several hours.” Deaton stated before Derek could say anything.

“It actually happened.” Derek whispered to himself, referring to Lydia’s resurrection of his dead uncle.

“Don’t worry. You’re still an alpha. But, as usual, not a particularly competent one.” Derek criticized the wolf as he began to try and sit up.

“Where is he?”

“I wish I could tell you.” Deaton replied, knowing he was asking about Scott.

“Then how about you tell me what you’re doing here, and why you’re helping me.”

“Helping you family actually used to be a pretty important part of my life. Helping you and your siblings was a promise I made to your mother.” Derek finally actually looked at the vet.

“You’re the one my sister talked about. She said you’re- some kind of advisor?”

“She was right. And i have some advice that you need to listen to very closely right now. What Peter managed to do doesn’t come without a price. He’ll be physically weak, so he’ll rely on the strength of his intelligence, he’s cunning. He’s gonna come at you, Derek. He’ll try to twist his way inside your head, preying on your insecurities. He’ll tell you that he’s the only way you can stop Gerard. Do not trust him” Deaton instructed the alpha.

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“I know,” Deaton smiled, “If you did, you might be the alpha you like to think you are. And unfortunately, the two people you should trust, don’t trust you at all,”

“Scott and Y/n.” Derek sighed in realization.

“They’re with Stilinski right now, and you need to find them as fast as you can. I’ve known Gerard for a long time, long enough to know he has a plan.”

Derek didn’t say anything, immediately beginning to leave his old house to go help the McCall twins before he was stopped by Deaton’s voice,

“But, Derek, even when this is all over- it's not over. Keeping an eye on her as well as you is still a promise I'm trying to keep, but she's got a lot of things approaching her very soon.”

Derek’s eyes widened, needing no further context to know exactly what Deaton was talking about, “You know who she is don't you?” He stepped back towards the man.

“So do you.” Deaton nodded his head.

Derek knew he was right in trusting his senses when he came to the conclusion on his own, but he also couldn't believe it at the same time.

But right now, he had other things he needed to take care of. Family matters could wait.

---

Mr. Stilinski watched as Y/n Mccall watched his son walk out of the room until she could no longer see the two boys, and he smiled lightly.

There was comfortable silence while Y/n slowly paced around the room, awaiting her mother’s arrival- well- yeah her mother.

“Sheriff?” She heard the sound of her brother’s voice, making her turn on her heel, only to find herself hovering her hands over the sides in her jeans where she kept her daggers, but she knew better than to pull them out right now. She needed to have the advantage of Matt not knowing she had them.

Matt was standing directly behind Stiles as he followed them through the door of the office, only he was following them with a gun to their heads.

“Matt? It’s Matt, right?” The sheriff attempted, “Matt, whatever’s going on, I guarantee you there’s a solution that doesn’t involve a gun.” He calmly negotiated.

But Matt just smiled, “You know, it’s funny you say that, because I don’t think you’re aware of just how right you are.” The sick teenager laughed at his own joke, Y/n swallowing a lump she didn’t even realize had formed in her throat.

“I know you don’t wanna hurt people.” The sheriff held out his hand to the deranged boy, trying his best to ease the threatening situation.

“Actually,” Matt snickered, “I wanna hurt a lot of people. You,” he motioned to his three classmates, “weren’t on my list, but I could be persuaded. And one way is to try dialing somebody on your cell phone, Like Scott is doing. That- that could definitely get someone hurt.” Scott immediately removed his hand from his pocket, a look of guilt draining all the color from his face.

“Everyone. Now!” Matt demanded for all of their phones to be placed on the counter, and they obeyed, easily persuaded under the influence of the loaded gun being pointed in all their directions.

---

“Tighter.” Matt sneered at the boy placing handcuffs on his father, and Stiles tightened the cold metal.

Y/n standing outside of the current room they were in, felt her stomach drop as she saw a flash of red from the corner of her eye. She moved her head towards the vibrant color, only to see three deputies covered in their own blood, chests shredded as if their skin had never been mended together. Y/n shivered, feeling sick and helpless.

“What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?” Her voice trembled as she forced herself to look at Matt.

“No.” He smiled, making his eyes look even wilder, “that’s what Jackson’s for. I just think about killing them, and he does it.” Y/n wish this could be dream, the way his voice sounded, almost as if he was proud of his manipulation and murder.

---

Gerard’s words echoed in Allison’s head after she took the agonizing time to read the letter left for her by her now deceased mother.

“I want you to know she asked me to read it. I told her I shouldn’t, that it was private between the two of you. But she wanted thoughts. As I said before, I don’t know what you’re going through. I wasn’t close to my mother. But reading made me sorry I hadn’t tried to be. Because if this were my mother, if these words were written for me, I don’t know how I could sit still until someone paid for her death. Any pity I’d have for Derek and his pack would be burned out by a white- hot desire for retribution, or a kind of blood and destruction that would have Derek and his wolves howling not for mercy, but for their own sweet deaths.”

He was right, ignoring the consumption of sadness and grief, Allison formed a plan. And god help whoever stood in her way.

---

“Deleted.” Stiles narrated from behind the computer in the sheriff’s office, “and we’re done. All right, so, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it because they killed you first- whatever that means- I think we’re good here, right? So I’ll just get my dad, and we’ll go, you know? You continue on the whole vengeance thing. Enjoy the kanima.” Stiles sarcastically bargained for release from their captivity.

But Matt just smirked, “Sounds like your mom’s here, McCalls.”

“Matt, dont do this,” Scott begged, “When she comes to the door, I’ll just tell her to leave. I’ll tell her we didn’t find anything. Please, Matt.”

“If you don’t move- now, I’m gonna kill Stiles first, and then your mom-” He paused before pointing the gun directly at Y/n, “and then your sister.” The action immediately putting Scott and Y/n into motion.

“Open it.”

“Please!” Y/n felt the word slip from her mouth before she could stop it.

“Open the door.” Matt demanded Scott one last time before Scott obeyed without hesitation, quickly grabbing the door handle and swinging it outward only to be met with the wide figure of Derek Hale instead of Melissa McCall.

“Oh thank god.” Scott sighed with relief, the relief short-lasting as they watched Derek fall to the ground paralyzed, Jackson standing behind him.

As Derek unwillingly laid with his back on the floor, he finally took the time to take in the appearance of Matt as Stiles joined the party.

“This is the one controlling him? This kid?” Derek criticized harshly.

“Well, Derek,” Matt started with his voice sounding uncomfortably content, “not everyone’s lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf. Oh, yeah, that’s- that’s right. I’ve learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas. It’s like a fricken’ Halloween party every full moon-” Y/n couldn’t help but shrug in agreement at his statement before he continued, “except for you, Stiles. What do you turn into?”

Everyone’s gaze in the room now focused on Stiles as Matt awaited his answer, “Abominable snowman. But, uh, it’s more of, like, a wintertime thing, you know, seasonal.” Stiles’ reward for his sarcastic rambling was Jackson’s poison infused claws being dragged along the skin on Stiles’ neck.

“Hey!” Y/n took a step forward in complaint, only to step back immediately when Jackson’s yellow eyes flicked to her movement.

“You bitch.” Stiles hissed as he fell face first towards the floor, landing on top of Derek.

“Get. Him. Off of me.” Derek seethed through his teeth, Y/n throwing her hand over her mouth to avoid laughing during a completely serious and ‘life-or-death’ situation.

“Oh, I don’t know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair.” Matt joked, “It must kind of suck, though, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you’re not used to feeling this helpless.”

“Still got some teeth,” Derek snapped, “Why don’t you get down here a little closer, huh? We’ll see how helpless I am.” Feeling a little intimidated, Matt stood back up from his original position of hovering over Derek.

“Yeah, bitch.” Stiles’ voice cracked, seconding Derek’s threat.

A knock on the door interrupted the sarcastic tension, Matt turned on his heel, “Is that her? Do what I tell you to and I won’t hurt her. I won’t even let Jackson near her.” Matt unconvincingly promised, making Y/n’s nerves increase, scared of all that could happen during tonight’s events.

“Scott, don’t trust him.” Y/n yelled.

“This work better for you?” Matt snapped his gaze towards the girl as he pointed the gun at the back of Stiles’ head. Y/n was frozen in place, the thought of him actually pulling the trigger making her feel like she was going to throw up.

“okay , just stop! Stop!” Scott desperately attempted to tone down the controversy.

“Then do what I tell you.” Matt whispered, lowering the gun after what felt like an eternity to Y/n.

“Okay, alright.” Scott began lowering his hands which were being held in the air as he tried to calm Matt down.

“You-” Matt motioned towards Jackson, “take ‘em in there,” referring to Stiles and Derek, “You two- with me.” Gesturing towards the two McCall twins.

Y/n didn’t move at first, too focused on Jackson’s controlled form dragging the paralyzed bodies of her friends out of sight.

“Hey!” She heard Matt’s voice yell, snapping her head in his direction to catch him instructing her to stand in front of him, next to Scott, so that as they walked out ahead of them he could keep the loaded gun pointed at their figures.

Glancing at Scott, her brother simply nodded his head towards her in an attempt to convince her that everything would be okay, they would get out of this. And as much as she trusted Scott, the feeling of a bullet being .02 seconds away from entering her skull made her feel otherwise.

As the three of them walked through the door, they were met with Melissa already inside the building standing behind the front desk, ignorantly unaware of the deputies dead body laying just inches from her feet.

“Mom?” Scott called out to her, and she smiled instantly at the sight of her son and daughter.

“You scared me,” She laughed lightly, “where is every-” The words fell silent from her mouth the same way her smile instantly stopped widening the features on her face. Her children being held at gunpoint, by the same teenager that she was there to testify against in the first place.

“Mom, just do what he says.” Scott made sure to clarify immediately.

“He promised he wouldn’t hurt you.” Y/n pleaded, knowing her mom was already tempted to run towards them.

“He’s right.” Matt smirked, before lowering his gun and aiming towards Scott’s abdomen, and then firing.

The gunshot echoed through Y/n’s ears, and throughout the metal walls of the station.

“Scott!” Y/n screamed, trying to run towards him before Matt stopped her movements by aiming the gun at her. She held he hands up in defeat.

“Wait, baby-” Mellisa cried, hesitantly trying to get closer to Scott to help heal his wound- unaware that the healing process had already began.

“Back, Or the next bullet goes in your daughter.” Matt yelled at their mom as she obeyed his threat, Matt just smiled at Y/n before whispering, “she has no clue that shooting you means much more permanent things than it does for Scott, does she?”

Y/n didn’t say anything, not giving him the satisfaction of wasting her breath. She just glared, through her intense stare she imagined herself strangling him with her bare hands for hurting her brother.

“I said get back!” He drew his attention back towards Melissa.

“Scott.” Melissa couldn’t think of anything else to say but his name.

“Mom, do it. Please, mom.” Scott begged as she finally began to step back, covering her mouth with her shaking hands to eliminate the sound of her sobs.

“Get up, McCall.” Matt instructed, as Scott immediately began struggling to get himself off the ground.

“Matt, Matt listen to me.” The sheriff’s voice yelled from the other room, where he was handcuffed to the pole.

“Shut- shut- shut up!” Matt covered his head with his hands, shutting his eyes to keep all the voices out of his head, “Everybody shut the hell up! Now, get up, or I Shoot her next.”

He re-pointed the gun at Y/n, motivating Scott to stand up quicker.

“Please, he needs to see a doctor.”

“You think so?” Matt chuckled at Melissa’s naivety.

---

“Hey, hey, you listen to me.” The sheriff angrily acknowledged Matt as he made Y/n lock her mother in a cell.

“It’s all right. I’m okay.” Scott reassured the sheriff.

“No, honey, you’re not okay.” Melissa shook her head as silent tears continued to flow freely down her cheeks, smearing mascara. As Y/n finalized the lock on the cell, Melissa grabbed her hand before she could pull away, causing Y/n to look up and meet her mother’s eyes.

Melissa admired her daughter, looking into her eyes and noticing how brave she was being right now, braver than she ever could be.

“We’re gonna be okay, mom.” Y/n promised, as she squeezed her mom’s hand lightly and quickly, knowing she didn’t have much time before Matt noticed they were communicating. She let go and turned her back towards to cell.

“Please. Let me just take a quick look.” Melissa tried another failed attempt.

“Shut up- lady! If you keep talking, I’m gonna put the next bullet through his head.”

“Okay. Okay.” Melissa knew she was finally done trying to negotiate with him.

“Back to the front, you two.” Once again, Scott and Y/n obeyed his demands.

---

“The evidence is gone. Why don’t you just go?” Y/n questioned as soon as the door shut behind them.

“You- you think the evidence mattered that much, huh? No, no, I- I want the book.”

“What- what book?” She shook her head, completely confused on what he was talking about.

“The bestiary. Not just a few pages, I want the entire thing.” He clarified.

“I don’t have it,”  Scott interjected, “It’s Gerard’s. What do you want it for anyway?”

“I need answers” His voice shook with anger, but Y/n could’ve sworn he sounded just as scared as he did angry.

“Answers to what?” Y/n yelled, exasperated.

“To this!” Matt snapped back, rushing to lift up his shirt. Revealing the same scales that cover the kanima, are now beginning to cover the side of his own body.

---

“He wants the bestiary.” Chris stated as he looked at the text sent from Allison’s phone from Scott.

“That’s not from Scott. He wouldn’t have texted me. And he definitely wouldn’t have, mentioned Derek.” Allison defended, placing her hand on the surface of the wooden table in their basement.

“The sheriff”s station?” Gerard asked.

“If Derek is really there, I doubt it’s willingly.” Chris inquired.

Allison furrowed her eyebrows in deep thought, “You think Jackson’s there too?”

“Maybe.” Her dad confirmed, “Maybe him and the once controlling him.”

“This might be the confluence of events events we’ve been hoping for.” Gerard snickered, sounding optimistic.

“Confluence or conflagration?” Chris questioned his father, not trying at all the hint of suspicion in his tone.

Gerard just raised his eyebrows at his son’s bravery, “I’m open to both.”

“What do we do now?” Allison interrupted, practically squirming to leave the confined space and shoot an arrow at [someone]

“Maybe you should tell us,” Gerard suggested taking both Allison and Chris by surprise, “That authority falls to you now.”

“Not at her age.” Chris was quick to shut the idea down.

“She’s almost 18. She knows there’s a difference between revenge and retribution, Don’t you, Allison? Make the decision from a vantage point of strategy over emotion, and we’ll follow your lead.”

Allison felt her shoulders tense up at the new added pressure and independence. But as she glanced between her father ad Gerard, gaze landing back on her trusted bow & arrow, she never felt more powerful. More in control of her life.

“I want Derek dead.” The words left her mouth before she even knew she said them.

“What about Scott?” Chris challenged her.

“Scott’s not the one who forced my mother to kill herself.” She replied, eerily calm in saying so.

“He’s not exactly an innocent bystander either. You can’t pick and choose-”

“But I can prioritize.” Allison raised her voice, cutting off her dad to put her new leadership in his perspective, she would not be treated like a child any longer- “And the priority right now is Derek. And if his pack tries to protect him, then we kill them. All of them.”

---

“You know, I- I feel sorry for you, McCall, ‘cause right now you’re thinking, ‘how am I gonna explain this when it heals?’ And you don’t even realize how incredible it is that you actually are healing. ‘Cause you know what happens to everyone else when they get shot? They die.” Matt taunted as he stood closer to Scott then Y/n would’ve liked as she watched from a short distance away. Then again, Matt could be 800 miles away and to her that would still be too close for comfort.

“Is that what happened to you?” Y/n whispered, but she knew Matt heard her, “You drowned, didn’t you?” She questioned, she wanted answers and if he was gonna make her and everyone she cared about play his game, then she was going to mess with the rules a little bit. And right now, that meant an explanation.

“He shouldn’t have let them drink.” Matt’s eyes started to shine as his tear ducts threatened to empty themselves.

“Who?”

“The swim team, you idiot!” He snapped at Y/n, “I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know they had just won state, and Lahey, he’s letting his favorites come over to have a couple drinks to celebrate. Who cares if they’re 17, right?” Matt became angrier as the answers they were looking for drew closer.

“Were you at Isaac’s?” Y/n was careful to keep her tone calmer, knowing that pissing off the unstable teenager couldn’t be the best idea.

“He had this first edition spider-man, or was it batman? And we were gonna make a trade. But then I’m over there and I hear music. And everyone’s having a good time, and I see Sean. He throws Jessica in the pool. And then- and then Bennett goes in and- and then Camden. Isaac’s jarhead older brother, he grabs me. He thinks it’s funny.”

Y/n understood what happened now, a 7 year old boy forced to face his biggest fear.

“They threw you in.” She began to feel- sympathy. Trauma can do crazy things to a person, she was beginning to understand that.

“I-I yelled that I can’t swim, but nobody listens,” Matt was now screaming, “I go under and I swallow water, and no one cares. And I see those bodies underwater. I- I see Jessica’s got her hands down Sean’s board shorts. Tucker’s grabbing Kara. And I’m drowning. I’m dying, and they’re laughing. All of a sudden, I was just- I’m lying by the pool. And Lahey is right there, right above me, and he says- ‘You tell no one! This is your fault! You don’t know how to swim? What little bastard doesn’t know how to swim? You say nothing!’”

Matt took a second, breathing deeply before his voice returned to a more calm manner, “And I didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone. And I would see them at school, and they wouldn’t even look at me. I’d wake up in the middle of the night. I’d gasp for breath. And my parents, they thought I was an asthmatic. They - they - they - they even gave me an inhaler. They didn't know that every time I closed my eyes, I - I was drowning. You know about that little white light that they talk about, you see when you die? Well, I didn't see anything. Just darkness. Everything was dark. But then - then came the Argent's funeral, and everything changed. : I was taking some photos, and then, purely by accident, Lahey gets in one of the photos. I look down at the screen on my camera, and I just had this unbelievable rage that fills up inside of me, and I just - I look at him, and I - I wanna see him dead. And the next day, he actually was. You know, Einstein was right. Imagination is more important than knowledge. It was like something out of Greek mythology. Like - like the furies coming down to punish Orestes. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?”

“Was- was he the guy who stabbed out his eyes?” Scott shrugged in his attempt.

“God, that's Oedipus, you dumbass! The furies are deities of vengeance. Their tears ran of blood, and they had snakes for hair. If there was a crime that had gone unpunished, the furies would do the punishing. Jackson is my fury. You know, when I saw him the next night, it was like this bond had been cemented between the two of us. I knew he had killed Lahey for me, and I knew he would do it again. So I went to Tucker's garage. I even paid for an oil change. And guess what. He didn't even recognize me. So when he wasn't looking, I took a shot of him from my camera. And in a few hours, he was dead.”

Matt chuckled to himself, “So I took more pictures. All I had to do was take their picture- And Jackson would take their life.” His sense of pride made Y/n sick.

---

All of the sudden a crap ton of noise and sirens from outside the station grabbed Matt’s attention.

“What is this? What is this? What’s happening? What’s going on?” He began frantically moving his head around, searching for the source of the noise.

“I don’t know.” Scott reassured him that he wasn’t planning something.

Y/n took this chance to make a run for it, running back to the room where Stiles and Derek were left. When she lept through the door frame, she was met with Stiles still paralyzed on the ground while Derek seemed to have broken through the trance, eyes glowing vibrant red.

“Take him! Go!” The alpha instructed Y/n, and she began to take action. Hooking her arms underneath Stiles armpits, dragging him as his lower half stayed in contact with the ground. She pulled him into the hall and around the corner, away from where the fighting had broken out. From what she could see, Argent was trying to take control of the situation. Once she got Stiles situated, she took the time to actually look at his face.

“You okay?” She knew she didn’t have much time but she also knew there was no way she was leaving him unless she knew for sure.

“I’m good, you go.” He promised, attempting to nod his head as much as the paralysis would let him as it began to wear off.

“Okay, don’t move.” Y/n stood up to walk away until the poor choice of words she had just used hit her, she turned back to look at Stiles’ glare. She knew that if he could roll his eyes he would be right now.

“You know what I mean.” She turned away again, back against the wall and taking a deep breath before she revealed herself. In one quick and confident movement, She removed the chinese daggers from where they were being stored and began walking with purpose away from Stiles. And he watched, and even if the situated the were in was life-threatening, and whispered, “That’s hot.”

---

Scott was running too, trying to get back to his mom and the sheriff so that he could free them. But as he rounded the corner, imagine his surprise when he ran into his girlfriend aiming her crossbow directly at him.

“Oh, sh- Allison?”

“Where’s Derek?” She ignored his surprise.

“What are you doing?” He avoided her eyes, way too occupied by the weapon in her hands.

Allison sighed disappointedly, “If you’re not going to tell me, then get out of my way.” She seethed.

Scott shook his head, “Allison-”

“Where is he.” She asked once more, raising her voice.

“What happened?” No matter how intimidating she tried to be, he wasn’t scared. Too concerned, knowing that anger she was exhibiting was just a mask for whatever was going on.

“Scott-” Allison’s voice broke slightly as she said his name, ruining her act of power, but she quickly pulled herself together before she could let too much emotion through, “Scott, you need to stay away from me right now. I need to go. Just stay out of my way.”

And before he could grab her arm, she was running away from him and out of sight completely. He knew her heart was broken and confused right now, and so was his.

---

Y/n found herself back in the main front area of the sheriff station, it was quiet and there was no one around. The silence only making her grip her weapons tighter, convinced the silence was too much of a relief. Unaware of one of the Argent’s hunters slowly standing up from behind her, she had no way to defend herself when he wrapped his arm under neck, puncturing deeply and cutting off her ability to breathe as the inside of his elbow pressed further.

She instantly gasped, the air leaving her lungs leaving her stunned. Y/n could feel her face turning purple, so quickly regaining her composure, she smiled. Which, in this situation would usually seem like an awfully weird reaction, but for Y/n it meant she knew she was about to win. How did a trained hunter miss the fact that she had two fricken knives still woven between her fingertips? Rotating the sharp metal so that she could get the most leverage, she impaled both of the hunter’s legs without hesitation. Sending him to the ground and grunting in pain, but he recovered quickly.

Knocking her legs out from under her, he climbed on top of her as her back hit the ground, Y/n had lost her daggers at the sudden involuntary movement, so he retrieved them from his position and held one up to her cheek.

“You dumbass bitch, you’re just a kid.” He taunted her as he pressed her own weapon harder against her skin until it went far enough the break through. Y/n felt the warm red substance roll down her cheek, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. “Why don’t you just stick to worrying about boys and cheerleading practice?”

“Actually,” Y/n replied to his arrogant words, in one quick motion she kneed him right between the legs to catch him off guard before head-butting him. The impact caused the hunter to fall backwards to a kneeling position on the ground. But she didn’t give him any time to recover before she grabbed a stapler from the countertop and smacked him across the side of his head. Knocking him unconscious, she watched as the hunter fell to the ground before she finished her sentence, “Cheerleading practice was yesterday.”

She wiped the trickling the blood from her cheek before glancing up at the figure in the entrance, Derek look just as stunned as she was at the beginning of her little experience just now.

“I came to help you.” He stated dumbfounded.

Y/n just started walking towards him, and as she got close enough to pass by him, breathing heavily she kept her face completely as she said, “I think I got it.” Then she continued past him, heading off in the direction of her mother and the sheriff.

He turned around watching her walk away before whispering to himself not loud enough for her to hear, “I think you do too.” Before following after her.

---

“Matt,” Melissa begged, “Matt, please, listen to me. My son has been shot, and I’ve heard other gunfire, and I don’t know what’s happening, but can you please just let me see my son?” Matt laughed at he looked at the sobbing mother.

“How clueless are you people?”

Y/n and Derek made finally reached their intended destination, except Y/n determined to just walk into the room where Matt and her mother and the Kanima were placed one foot inside before a forceful arm pulled her back against the wall directly outside the room.

“What are you doing?” She whispered shouted at the owner of the arm who happened to be Derek.

He looked around the door frame before meeting Y/n’s eyes so he could answer her question.

“Walking into that room without a plan would be like pointing a loaded gun at yourself.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at the metaphor, “Alright Mr. Alpha what’s your brilliant plan.”

He glanced at her questionly at the nickname, but before he could answer her question Scott went directly passed them and into the room, attacking the kanima without a second thought.

Derek sighed, “I guess the plan is make sure Scott doesn’t screw up.” He replied sarcastically before releasing his fangs and running into the room to help the beta, Y/n following after. She would’ve helped fight but when she walked in and saw the sheriff unconscious on the ground, she decided to attend to him. Dropping to her knees in front of him, she picked his body up placing his back against the wall.

Mr. Stilinski instantly woke, reaching for his gun in a panic.

“Woah-woah, it’s just me. You’re okay.” Y/n was quick to calm him back down.

“Oh, Scott? Scott? No.” Y/n heard the quiet whisper of her mother’s voice, she turned to see Melissa backing away from the front of the cell she was still currently locked in. Scott’s back was to Y/n, but she could tell that the way her mother was reacting, his eyes were certainly yellow instead of brown. The secret was no longer.

---

Peter watched from the top of the bridge, far enough away to not be seen, as Gerard pushed the psychotic teenage boy underneath the surface of the crystal water. The boy struggled, until he didn’t.

The kanima stood distraught on the other side of the riverbank, his master’s body left floating helplessly in the water.

“No longer afraid of the water?” Gerard addressed the scaled creature, “Well, you don’t have to be afraid of anything, my friend. Especially me.”

Gerard held his hand up to the Kanima. And slowly, the Kanima’s claws came in contact with Gerard’s long and bony fingers.

Peter’s smirk fell, instantly.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #isaac lahey imagines #y/n mccall #officialmccall #Believe it or Not #believe it or not imagine

[maggieisalarrie]

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or the au where louis gives up on harry and harry wants to give up on everything

Swim In The Smoke by whoknows (102k)

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by sincewewereeighteen (26k)

"Another car has stopped at the beginning of the carpet. People are going to collapse any time soon, and Louis knows why.

Harry Styles has just arrived. And Louis. Well. Louis is a grown man. He curses himself a hundred times for even letting his heart race in his chest. He knew they were bound to meet tonight.

What the hell is wrong with him?"

Or: the one in which Harry's having his big movie debut and Louis sings on its soundtrack.

It’s A Long Way Down by veegirl (53k)

It’s June 2013, and the legalization of gay marriage is the most discussed political issue in the country. As a member of parliament Louis Tomlinson has decided to do everything under his power to keep marriage between a man and a woman. Little does he know a boy with green eyes and pink lips from his past is on a mission to change his mind.

Mistletoes & Wrackspurts series by perfectdagger (sincerelyste), star_k (220k)

above your head by deadspy (58k)

What happens when an unstoppable object meets an immovable force?

[Space AU. Louis is an astronaut. Harry works for Mission Control. They don't get along.]

A Red-Dusted Planet by onewasturning (38k)

Harry finally makes it to the edge of the pool where Louis is almost curled up in on himself laughing in the shallow water. He wants to feel annoyed, his competitive side rankled at the unfair and unjust tactics used by his opponent, but it’s like—

The light refracts off the water and moves across Louis’ skin, darkening the ink of his tattoos, and he looks beautiful, dazzling, still that god laughing down on all the destruction he's caused. And Harry’s heart is caught somewhere in his breathless chest, like it’s become tangled amidst the veins and arteries whilst trying to make room for wet boys on warm, summery days.

Or, a one-night stand in a small town in Australia turns into a weekend that Harry could've never predicted with a boy he may never forget.

It’s A Better Place (Since You Came Along) by phdmama (52k)

When Harry Styles, a mid-level talent, Finder, and small business owner, sets off on the vacation of a lifetime with his best friend, Niall Horan, he has no idea the changes his life will undergo over the next nine days. He's got it all planned - there's going to be shore excursions, lounging by the pool on the deck of the luxurious cruise ship, not to mention margaritas. What he does not plan for are the new friends, new bonds, or the mystery from his past that comes back to haunt him, and he certainly hasn't planned for Louis.

Let Me Touch You Where Your Heart Aches by rosegoldhl (MoonlitLarrie) (47k)

Alcohol was all he could taste. Alcohol and Harry, and he didn’t mind one bit. Harry kissed him back with just as much fervent heat. He pushed Louis against the taxi door and pulled his head back, breathing hot and heavy against his lips. “Let’s go, yes?”

Or a Friends with Benefits AU, in which Louis falls in love and Harry is jealous. There is some Karaoke singing somewhere in there, because how do you write a romantic comedy without a Karaoke scene?

No Place Without You by fackinglouis (19k)

Harry's in love with life and he's in love with the world.

Louis' in love with Harry and he doesn't think there's any way he can possibly compete.

A Wanderlust AU in which Harry doesn't have a permanent home and stays with Louis when he visits NYC.

My To Read Tag 

Reading Again

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy & gloria_andrews (135k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who “has made Mozart cool again” according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don’t hum Bolero.

we'll play hide and seek to turn this around (give me love like never before) by Wankerville (20k)

“So here's the thing,” he starts. “I didn't mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your nails, then you should do that, and not like, care if anyone else doesn't like it because their opinions shouldn't matter, you know?” Louis takes a breath, finally glancing over to see the boy wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. On a whim, he adds, “And like, I noticed you scraping it off and you haven't been wearing any and I think you should because that's what you like.”

or an au where harry paints his nails and drinks strawberry milk and is too nervous for it to be nothing and louis' just trying to figure out whats wrong with him

Part 1 of the strawberry milk fic series

Young & Beautiful by Velvetoscar (227k)

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

You You You by isthatyoularry (138k)

“Infamous boybander leaves club together with unknown,” read the headline. Underneath were pictures of a boy with dark curls, green eyes and very tight pants. They both studied the article for a moment, reading it through quickly. “Is that…?” Louis frowned. That guy almost looked exactly like… “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” “Louis,” Niall said, looking absolutely fucked over. “You just fucked the most wanted guy on earth. You just fucked Harry Styles of One Direction.”

Or, the one where Harry and Louis meet at a club and Louis takes Harry home, only for him to realize that the boy who just made him breakfast half naked is Harry Styles from One Direction.

Last edited: February 28, 2018

#to read #to do list #ls2k14