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themusicplayedherlife · 4 years

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Of Warmth and Growth

pairing: dick grayson x f!reader characters: reader, the team, dick grayson word count: 7.7k+ warnings: angst, self doubt, and boat load of fluff summary: dealing with a broken heart isn’t easy, but your friend megan is hoping to get you out of that fink by inviting you to her holiday party where you meet someone that might help you move on. a/n: there’s a whole story behind this--originally this was started as a requested oneshot, but i couldn’t bring myself to finish it, so i revamped it and wrote a different story that i posted some time ago. fast forward to november, i made it my goal to finish this before the new year, and i was so close, too, but family took priority. there might also be a disconnect, but I really tried smoothing it over, hopefully I did well. anyway, better late than never, though?

Happy Harbour

December 7, 2019

“Sometimes it’s very hard to move on, but once you move on, you’ll realize it was the best decision you’ve ever made. You’ll see.”

You want to laugh bitterly at Megan’s words, but her sympathetic smile and warm gaze are holding you back from doing so. She’s only trying to help, you’re reminded by your conscious as she continues to spew words of healing and bullshit. Utter bullshit.

Your bitterness wins and you say, “I know,” wanting nothing more than for her to shut up.

Her smile turns sheepish and she pats your hand affectionately before excusing herself to get more coffee, or to get away from you. You wouldn’t blame her if it was the latter, you haven’t exactly been good company to keep around since your break up.

Sighing, your eyes trail to the world on the other side of the small cafe’s window. It’s bustling and full of people with shopping bags, all of them preparing for the holidays. It really is a different world outside, you muse. Everything inside the coffee shop is warmer and cozier—quieter compared to the outside. It almost, almost makes you forget about your broken heart that was ripped and stomped on by the person you thought loved and cared for you, things that you still, unfortunately, feel for them.

Your red-haired friend comes back with two styrofoam cups instead of one, and she sets one down in front of you, taking her seat across from you once more. “I got you another earl grey.”

You pick up the warm styrofoam, enjoying the heat against your palm. “Thank you.”

Megan doesn’t say anything for once, instead she watches the world with you, letting only the soft jazz of the cafe to envelop you. You can tell she’s going over something in her mind, she’s never this quiet unless she’s thinking, and that’s—usually—never a good thing, at least not when it pertains to you.

It’s not until you’re halfway done with your drink that she finally speaks, having grown restless with her thinking. She’s looking at you, her eyes narrowed and a little shaky, never really making contact with your own, but still facing your direction. “Sooo, I was thinking,” she drawls, “Conner and I are inviting some of our old friends over for a little get together this weekend and I thought, hey, maybe I can convince my best friend in the whole universe to finally meet my other friends, you know, I want us all to be friends and—“

“You’re rambling.”

“Right; sorry. It’s not going to be a huge thing, just a few of us watching crappy movies and drinking spiked eggnog, maybe play some games or something.” She reaches for your hand holding your drink and finally meets your eyes. “And I really want you to be there. What do you say, huh?”

“Megan,” you start warningly.

She raises a hand as a peace sign. “I know, I know! You said you wanted to keep a low profile this holiday season, but I really want to introduce you. They’re really nice people, a little odd, but so am I and you’re still my friend!”

You purse your lips, mulling over the idea. “Are the girls going to be there?”

“Yes! Well, Karen will be, I’m not sure about Wendy, yet. Should probably ask her tonight.”

Again, you think it over. Not only will you be in a small, confined space with a lot of people (she might have said it wasn’t going to be huge, but you and her have different definitions for small and huge), you’re going to be stuck in a confined space with strangers. It doesn’t sound very pleasing, but then again, you haven’t been very pleasant and there’s no denying that you always dodged her past intents to get you and her friends to hang out, and yet, she’s still here, trying to cheer you up.

You owe it to her.

“Okay, I’ll go.” She immediately squeals. Loudly. Blushing, you look around the cafe, and just as you feared, everyone in the small cafe is looking at you. You sigh, lifting a hand to stop her from over exerting herself—and from embarrassing you any further. “Just don’t expect me to bring anything.”

“That’s fine! That’s fine! As long as you bring yourself, I’m content.”

You’re going to regret it, you just know it.

Happy Harbour

December 14, 2019

You tug at the hem of your outfit, uncomfortable. You could hear the loud laughter of the people inside accompanied by the soft hum of Megan’s holiday playlist. In your hand is a Tupperware full of brigadeiro, a Brazilian dessert your grandma used to make for the holidays before she completely quit eating sweet things (in front of your mom anyway).

Fingers tighten around the container. Maybe you should go... You could always deal with an angry Megan later.

“Are you going to go in or are you just going to stare at the wreath all night?” A deep, amused voice registers in your mind and your body jerks in response, almost making you drop the Tupperware if it weren’t for the steady hand holding you against their strong, chest. “Whoa, there!” he exclaims, warm air fanning over your neck. “You all right?”

He doesn’t allow you to pull away until he steadies you, making sure you’re upright before letting you go. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you breathe out. “Thank you.”

He chuckles and you whirl around to meet your assailant and savior—and holy fuck is he gorgeous. They were gorgeous, too, but in that average kind of way. Nothing about them stood out to people, but to you? They were the most beautiful person you had ever seen. But this man in front of you, you had to be stupid not to notice how gorgeous he is. Striking blue eyes peering into you, a mischievous glint in them and matched by the lopsided smirk adorning his face; unruly black locks in waves and falling to one side as he runs his fingers through his hair. There’s something distinctly boyish and alluring about him that it renders you speechless.

“Megan never told me she had such a gorgeous friend,” he suddenly says. Or maybe not so suddenly because you’re sure his mouth had been moving before you allowed yourself to fall under his spell.

Hold on.

Wait a second.

Gorgeous?

Did he really just call you gorgeous, too?

Your throat closes and your eyes widen, hopefully not comically or at all because holy shit. A really gorgeous man just called you gorgeous. The last person to ever compliment was your mom. But she’s your mom. She’s supposed to think you’re pretty good looking. And before that it was them. And realizing it now, they probably never even meant it. So this? This is new and weird and what the fuck are you supposed to say to something like that to someone like him. “I—“

A draft of air hits your back as the door is swung open behind you. The Christmas music that Megan has been preparing since June is louder than before without the door closed.

“You’re here,” she squeals, wrapping her arms from behind you, her chin settling on your shoulder. “I’m so happy you came!” She kisses your cheek messily and something sweet and alcoholic fills your nostrils. “And you brought something!”

“Yeah, yeah! Don’t make it a thing.” You laugh, pulling away as she makes a show of having to let you go. “How much eggnog have you had?”

“Not too much.” Her eyes turn to the other guest and her eyes brighten. “Dick!” Dick? What kind of name is Dick? Was his mom angry at his dad? Noticing your stare, he smiles down at you, amusement never leaving his face before he turns to Megan. “You’re here! Wally and the others are already here.” She moves away from the door to let you both in.

Dick gestures to the inside of her apartment. “After you.”

Blinking owlishly, you thank him and enter the loud apartment full of people you don’t recognize—well, mostly of people you don’t recognize. There’s Karen and Mal by the Christmas tree talking to a redhead and a blonde, who Dick makes his way over to after excusing himself. Wendy is with Marvin by the snack table, the two arguing—really it's Marvin arguing—about which dessert is the best for the holidays, and a few other really gorgeous and fit people. Why are all of her friends ridiculously good looking?

“You okay?” Megan asks, her hand settling on your shoulder and squeezing lightly.

Your head swivels in her direction. “What?”

“You were frowning,” she says softly. “Hey, if I forced you to be here—“

“No,” you interrupt her quickly. “No, I’m glad you invited me, I just—I’ll be okay. I promise. You were right about me having to move on. I can’t avoid society forever because of a broken heart. I just need to get used to… this,” you say, moving your eyes around the party of people that seemed to already be coupled off.

She smiles gently but doesn’t seem all that convinced. “I’m right here if you need me, okay?” She takes the Tupperware from your hands. “Come on, let's say hi to everyone.” When you bristle, as you take off your coat, she laughs. “In moderation.”

An hour into the party and you’ve already become acquainted with mostly everyone at the party. You meet Wally and Artemis, the couple who were with Karen and Mal when you first arrived; Raquel and her baby boy, Amistad. Cassie and Tim; Jaime and Bart; Gar and some really weird guy who keeps glaring at Conner; Kaldur, who looks strangely familiar—and only smiles when you mention it before being pulled away by Megan—and Barbara, who eyes you momentarily before flashing you a warm smile. She’s a little intimidating, if you’re being honest.

There are still a few more people you have yet to meet, but you seriously need a break, and you say as much to Megan.

“You said a little party,” you say accusingly, as if you hadn’t known this was her definition of small.

She laughs, her arm hooked around yours as she pulls you towards the spread of food and drinks. “It is little!” She lets go of you, opens the treats you made and places them between all the others. She then grabs a clean cup to fill it with eggnog before handing it to you. “Here! Conner and I made it, so it might not be… good.”

You take a tentative sip of the thick liquid made out of egg and spices and doused with alcohol and holy fuck do you regret it. “You and Conner made this?” you sputter, the taste of bourbon lingering strongly on your tongue.

She pouts. “The recipe called for a ton of bourbon to counteract the sweetness!”

You pull the cup away and eye the liquid with scrutiny. “Did you put a whole bottle of Bourbon from Costco in here?”

“Yes?” she answers, a little unsure. “Probably. I don’t actually remember.”

Conner comes up from behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. “Enjoying yourselves?”

She tilts her head to kiss him on his cheek continuously and smiles. “Always.”

You avert your gaze.

“It’s good to see you again,” Conner addresses you after they’ve had their fill of small pecks. Honestly, you don’t blame them for being so affectionate and in love. It wasn’t that long ago that the two finally decided to give each other another chance after a falling out that Megan still doesn’t want to talk about. And again, you don’t blame her. You don’t want to talk about the reason why you and your ex broke up either, let alone think about it.

You hum and reluctantly move your gaze back to their interlocked embrace. You manage a smile. “Same to you. Been a while hasn’t it?”

Before he can reply, Gar interrupts with a call of their names. He’s standing near the fireplace with Bart, leaning over something. “Come check this out!”

Megan wiggles out of Conner’s hold and instead grabs his hand to lead him towards the boys. “Don’t go anywhere!”

Conner flashes an exasperated glance at you over his shoulder, which you return, before he wraps his arms around Megan again—the two laughing and joking about who knows what as they close the distance between them and the boys.

Sighing, you take another sip of the eggnog and your face scrunches in response to the liquid coating your tongue. “Bleh.”

“Fell victim to the spiked eggnog, I see,” a voice cuts through your thoughts as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Eyes snap up to meet the familiar, amused gaze of Dick. “Uh, yeah.”

He offers you a different mug and you eye it suspiciously. He chuckles. “It’s just apple cider, I promise.”

You reluctantly relent, taking the mug he offers as he takes the one you had been drinking. You take a sip, and surprisingly enough, it really is apple cider, no alcohol at all. “Oh, god, thank you.”

He flashes you a pearly smile, and takes a sip of the eggnog without grimacing. “So, how did you meet Megan and Conner?”

“Oh, um, from school. We went to the same high school.” He quirks an eyebrow. “I was a year below them, but I became friends with Megan when she joined the cheerleading team. My friendship with Conner just followed naturally after that.”

His eyes brighten, as if what you’re saying is actually interesting. “Really?”

You curl a piece of loose hair behind your ear. “Uh, yeah. What about you? How did you meet them?”

“Oh, through our families,” he supplies, a little detached, as if it weren’t really important. “Most of us met like that.”

You frown, but try to hide it behind the rim of the mug. “Wow. Then you must’ve known Megan for quite some time, then?”

His eyes flicker to your lips and his turn upwards. “Actually, I’ve probably known her for about the same amount of time as you.”

Wait. If that's true…“Does that mean you went to the Halloween disaster of 2016?” You remember Megan telling you she would be inviting her friends to the dance, and you heard that she did. Maybe he was among them?

He snorts. “Is that what they’re calling it?” You nod eagerly, hoping to hear his side of what happened that night.

“No.” You deflate, and he huffs a laugh. “I wasn’t able to go, had plans that night. Did you?”

You pout, the disappointment you felt at missing that night coming to mind. “Unfortunately, no. I was sick, but I heard from Marvin and the others that it was a night to remember.”

You don’t get to ask him more questions because as soon as you open your mouth, the front door opens to reveal a beautiful girl with dark, raven hair in delicate waves and bright blue eyes entering the room. Immediately, everyone (excluding you, Marvin and Wendy—wtf Karen?) recognizes her and greet her with a loud exclaim of her name, “Zatanna!”

Dick turns to you and you already know that he’s about to excuse himself. “Do you mind if—“

You shake your head interrupting him with, “No, no, go ahead.”

Surprisingly, he reaches for your arm and squeezes gently. “I’ll be right back.”

You blink after him and mutter, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Be right back” doesn’t happen. He stays by the pretty girl’s side, the two of them being overly familiar with one another—tight hugs, continuous small touches, long eye contact, leaning against one another. You wouldn’t be surprised if they dated at some point, to be honest; or maybe they are dating—ugh. Why does the thought of it bother you?

“You all right?” Wendy softly asks, her kind eyes full of worry and briefly moving to Karen by the entrance.

What’s that about?

You try to keep from frowning. “I think I just need some fresh air,” you assure her.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll just be out for a moment, besides—“ you flick your eyes to Marvin by the dessert table stuffing his face with walnut bread—“I think you’d better stay to make sure Marvin doesn’t eat all the walnut bread.”

“Oh—damn it, Marvin!” She sighs ready to chastise her boyfriend, but she pauses to look at you. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You hum in agreement and watch as she saunters over to Marvin before turning on your heels and stepping out through the sliding doors leading to the balcony.

The cold winter air bites your skin, your long sleeved turtleneck not enough to combat the cold, but just thinking about going back inside makes you try to suck it up. You cover your mouth with your sleeve as you lean against the railing—Happy Harbor lights glinting brightly in the dark.

Maybe you should leave. You’ve been here a good amount of time to deem acceptable, right? You’ve met some of Megan’s friends and even talked to a few of them for a while, and you didn’t show an ounce of disgruntlement—as far as you know—so you should be good right?

An ache fills your chest, pulsing slowly as you let out a long sigh. God, what happened to you? You weren’t always like this. So closed off and unwilling to spend time with your friends. You’ve practically been unconsciously ignoring Karen and Mal, attaching yourself to Megan when she is alone, or staying with Marvin and Wendy because they act least like a couple compared to your old classmates. And the moment the one person you’ve talked to for an extended period of time at the party joins his pretty friend, you become bitter about it!

You need help.

Something heavy lands on your shoulders and back, strong cologne filling your nostrils and making you jump.

“Woah, easy, it’s just me.”

Startling blue eyes twinkle with mischief and your shoulders drop, heat combatting the cold air. “Anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on people?”

He just grins and settles in the space beside you, eyes sweeping over the town you grew up in. “My job kind of requires that I do.”

You slip your arms through the sleeves of his coat, ignoring the fact that it’s not exactly your size. It’s warm anyway. “Thank you.” You lean forward, tightening the coat to fit you snuggly. “What kind of job requires you to have ninja like stealth?”

He chuckles, meeting your gaze. “I’m an officer at Bludhaven PD, trying to become detective.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Bludhaven? Really?”

He hums, elbow resting on the railing and cupping his cheek.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Gotham has its norierty, but so does Bludhaven. It was basically untapped, scandals and crimes hidden behind a veil created by corrupt officials, until a couple of years ago when it all came to light with Nightwing’s arrival.

“Yeah,” he drawls, mulling it over, “but what isn’t? Anything can be dangerous if you think about it.” He leans closer to you. “Where do you work?”

“Happy Harbour Times, Opinions.”

“Then you must have to deal with a lot of angry readers when you write about something they don’t agree with, right? Threats and angry phone calls and letters. Those can be dangerous, too, right?” he asks cheekily.

You laugh, ducking your head. “I guess you’re right.” There’s still no comparing writing articles to police work, no matter how light of a situation Dick is trying to make it. “Why police work, though? It’s not many people’s first choice. Especially in Bludhaven.”

He shrugs. “Always been interested, I guess.” He leans back, hands holding onto the railing and causing his blue cable knit sweater to wrap tightly around his arm muscles. “My guardian…” Now, that’s an interesting choice of words. “He was—is a fan of mysteries.” His voice is far off, stuck in his jar of memories. “When he took me in, we’d used to solve cases together, most of them taking place in Gotham, where I was raised.” He chuckles. “And I guess from there I just… I just decided I wanted to be a cop.”

“I see... And you decided not to become a cop in Gotham?”

“Gotham has good people looking out for her already.”

“She could always use more.” He cracks a smile, blue eyes twinkling with the city lights as they find yours, and you return it shyly. “But I get it. Bludhaven has become yours, in a way. Separate from your… guardian.”

“In a way,” he repeats, and you have to look away from or else your heart will stop. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

He nudged your shoulder with his. “Happy Harbour Times?”

“Ah.” Your breath comes out in a puff, the night air still growing colder by the hour, but you don’t mind it. Dick doesn’t seem to mind either. “Well, when I was a kid, my third grade teacher told my parents I was a really good writer. So, they got me into workshops and short story competitions,” you recall, remembering the constant competitions your parents would sign you up for without your knowledge sometimes. They did it with good intentions, hoping to help hone your skill, but it was too much sometimes. “Truth is, I hated it. Never really liked… fiction, I guess? Don’t get me wrong, give me a good fiction novel and I will read it for days, but… it… it just wasn’t me,” you confess locking your fingers in place.

“I was about ready to give up on writing when my tenth grade English teacher assigned us a topic to write about and I guess I fell in love with the research and being able to go out and interview people.”

“Yeah? And what was it that you wrote about?”

You bite your lip and find Dick staring at you, a curious glimmer in his eyes. “Don’t laugh?” He promises he won’t. “Robin.”

He chokes on his saliva, eyes growing in disbelief. “As in Batman’s Robin?”

You tuck strands of hair behind your ear, refusing to meet his gaze. “Yeah, um, the prompt was about vigilantes and I chose to write about him instead of the Flash, Batman, Wonder Woman and whoever else everyone wrote about.”

“Why?”

You shrug, trying your best to mask your embarrassment with a blase attitude. “Fighting crime with Batman? That was pretty cool, you know? He was living every kid’s dream.”

“Was he?” he asks, voice soft.

“He was!” you confess, smile blooming on your face as a memory of you and your friends playing as the superhero sidekicks comes to mind. It’s some of your best memories from elementary school. “But I didn’t want to just write about the good. He was a kid seeing some fucked up shit, after all.” You pause to look at him, only to find he’s not looking at you, but at the city lights. There’s something… wistful and forlorn in those blue eyes of his, and you wonder if he’s thinking back on his time in Gotham, seeing Boy Wonder up close and personal. “Being Robin must’ve taken its toll on him, both mentally and physically.

“And I wanted to write about that. Even had my parents drive up to Gotham for the weekend so I could do some snooping, maybe even find Boy Wonder myself.”

Finally he reacts, lips twitching as he turns to look at you. “And how’d that go?”

“I learned that the citizens of Gotham really hate being asked questions.” He chuckles and you smile. “But those who did answer... you can tell they were grateful for him and worried about him. The kid really touched people’s hearts, whether they agreed with his nightly activities with Batman or not.” You tilt your head, watching his eyes light up with your words. “It’s just a shame I didn’t get to interview Robin himself.” You grab hold of the railing and lean forward. “But I’d doubt he’d have given me the time of day if I had gotten the chance to ask him. Probably too busy saving babies and punching villains with Batman.”

“I’m sure he would have made time for you.” Your fingers slip from the metal to turn to look at him, unsure of his sincerity. “How could he not?” His cheeks have become flushed with the cold, nose bright and blue eyes stark against his skin.

You smile, but you’re sure it looks more like an awkward grimace. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” He frowns, sincere eyes knocking your breath away. “I know if he knew someone as sincere as you wanted to ask him some questions for their article, he would have dropped whatever he was doing to help you.”

You don’t know why you stand there, waiting for him to laugh in your face and say his punchline. You don’t know why he just stands there and stares back at you, quiet and shining with sincerity that he’s trying to penetrate into your being. It’s weird and totally unnecessary, but maybe a part of you is desperate to know if he’s really being sincere and a part of him is desperate for you to know he is.

“Hey!” Megan’s voice break through the trance you’re both in. Her head barely poking out into the cold and green eyes narrowing. “Get in here before you both catch something!”

Dick chuckles, attention moving from her to you. “Should we head in?”

You nod mutely, smiling tight lipped.

As you follow Megan inside, the only thing on your mind is that you might have already caught something.

Bludhaven

December 15, 2020

“You’re really not coming home for the Holidays this year?”

Megan is pouting on your computer screen, but you hardly pay her any attention. You have an article on Bludhaven’s growing homelessness due in the morning and you still have some revisions to do. Your little mishap earlier today took time that you were reserving for this article and now you’re running behind.

“‘Fraid not,” you tell her, your voice accompanied by the clicking of your keyboard. “I’ve been overloaded with a ridiculous amount of work this month and I need to get it done before the end of the year.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see her scavenging through boxes of decorations. “Won’t your mom be disappointed you won’t be coming home?”

“Nope,” you pop the “p” as you rewrite a fragment. “She’s coming down to see me instead.”

She stops, head lifting like a prairie dog on alert. “So it’s just going to be you two this year?”

“Maybe. Dick said he might stop by, but he’s not sure.”

“Ooh,” her teasing rings through your quiet bedroom and you roll your eyes.

“It’s not like that, Megan.” You wished it were like that, but it’s not, and maybe it’s for the best. Dick became one of your good friends since the party last year and one of your best friends after you volunteered for a transfer to Bludhaven’s Times earlier this year. You don’t want to mess with what you have, not right now when your life feels perfectly balanced.

“Don't let the person who didn't love you keep you from the person who will,” she says, sounding serious as hell and making you snort and pause in your typing. “Hey! Don’t laugh at my words of wisdom!”

“This has nothing to do with them, Megan. When I said I was finally over them, I meant it.” The moment you were able to look at an old tagged picture of you and them on their friends’ Instagram and you felt nothing, no numbness, no anger nor sadness, just a strange vagueness as if they were a stranger, you knew you were over them. “Dick and I… we like where we are.”

“Boo.”

Conner appear on screen and shakes his head as he wraps his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t listen to her. I respect your decision.”

She rolls her eyes, playfully pushing his head out of the screen. “I respect your decision too, doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

“Heckling does not equate respect, babe.”

You laugh at their antics, their displays of affections no longer bothering you. Now, when you see them you just feel happy, happy for them and for you. Bitterness long gone from your bones, and there’s one person you can thank for that.

Your phone on your desk dings.

Dick 🥳🤩: Chinese food 2nite?

You: only if you promise to get extra egg rolls

Dick 🥳🤩: Got’chu, omw.

“You’re smiling! Why are you smiling? It’s Dick, isn’t it? It’s totally Dick.”

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your face neutral but knowing you’re doing horribly at it. “I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait, is he coming over?” She gushes, and Conner is back on screen, trying to wrestle the phone out of her grip.

You laugh when you hear a curse from Conner. “I have an article to finish, Megan.”

“You can’t just leave me hanging like this—“

All right, you’ve had enough. “Bye, Megan!”

Megan🧡: 😨 You hung up on me?

Megan🧡: 😡😡

Megan🧡: Expecting deets tomorrow ❤️

You: goodnight, megan!

It doesn’t take long for Dick to arrive and for you to shove your article aside—you’re almost done with it anyway, nothing wrong with a little break.

The door jingles and as you begin to clear your coffee table—where you and Dick usually eat dinner—of your paperwork, it opens to reveal Dick still wearing his uniform. You smile up at him briefly, gathering everything and taking it over to your round, small dining table that could probably fit four people if you really tried to squeeze them in. “Hey! Let me just grab some plates and we can—“

Before you can finish your sentence, or head into the kitchen, a hand wraps around your wrist, worried crystallized blue eyes staring into you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were almost mugged?”

Ah, hell.

The crack in his voice makes your heart drop to your stomach and your eyes fall down to his ugly black shoes that you make fun of every chance you get just to hear his laugh. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Which isn’t a lie. Since you moved to Bludhaven, Dick has been checking up on you more often and even picking you up from work if he has the chance—“Bludhaven isn’t like Happy Harbor. It’s… tougher and harder,” he had said after offering to teach you some self defense moves. You had laughed and said you could handle yourself, but accepted it anyway if it meant spending more time with him.

Today was just bad luck, he was on the other side of the city and you had chosen to take the bus to work that day and hadn’t been paying attention. Next thing you know, you’re being threatened to give your purse up.

His warm fingers leave your wrist and instead they find your chin. Gingerly, he lifts your head to force you to meet his gaze. “When Rohrbach called me on my way here to check up on you because she was worried, I swear my heart almost stopped.” His eyes shine with worry and there’s a twisting in your gut. “What if Louie hadn’t been nearby, huh?”

“I’m okay, Dick,” you reassure him, wanting nothing more than to lean against him, maybe have his lips press a kiss on your forehead. “I handled him pretty well. Used those self defense moves you taught me.” It was why you were able to shake him off and run to the nearest officer for help. Dick inadvertently saved you.

He finally smiles. “Yeah, Rohrbach said you left him pretty bruised up.” His hand under your chin moves to smooth out your hair before cupping the back of your head and pressing you against him. “I need you to be more careful, sweetheart. Need you to be safe.”

Your heart bursts in your chest at the pet-name and you wrap your arms around his waist, fisting the jacket of his uniform tightly. His cologne makes you dizzy—ginger and spices for the holiday. “Only if you promise to stay safe, too.”

“I’ll do my best.” His soft lips land on your forehead briefly before he’s pulling away and you restrain yourself from chasing after him. “Let’s eat? You must be starving.”

“A little,” you admit, and let him pull you toward the couch. “Eating out of the cartons today?”

He flashes you a grin. “Why not?”

As you both settle next to each other on the floor, back being supported by your old couch and you turn on your television as he pulls out the food he bought, you can’t help but think that even if your relationship stay like this with Dick, you wouldn’t mind it.

Bludhaven

December 31, 2020

You check your watch for the umptenth time.

He’s late.

Everyone around you is celebrating, filling the bar with laughter and talk, most of it incoherent over the loud music and the inebriated state most of them are in. You’re only a few hours away from the New Year and people are already drunk out of their minds—this doesn’t spell trouble for the night whatsoever.

Dick 🥳🤩 (7)

7 outgoing calls, all unanswered and completely unlike him. Sure, sometimes he doesn’t answer your calls when he’s busy, that’s a given, but he always sends you a message if he’s going to be late or apologizes for not being able to answer your call. This just not like Dick.

You try calling one more time, covering one ear with your palm to hear the ringing, but just like before, you get sent to voicemail. Worry begins to over take your annoyance. You grab your bag and quickly make your way out of the crowded bar, not caring about the warm bodies complaining.

Driving to his place takes you about thirty minutes with traffic, and you occasionally find yourself cursing at other drivers and yourself. It’s a miracle you don’t get into an accident or pulled over. With his garage key that he gave you, you open the gate and make your way to the space that has become yours over the last couple of months with how much you visit him.

Locking your car with a simple click of the key fob, you power walk to the elevator. One last time, you try calling him, hoping he’ll answer and apologize for being late, but once again it sends you to voicemail just as the elevator doors open on his floor.

“Please be okay,” you whisper to yourself.

Taking out your copy of the key, you slowly insert it and tentatively call out to him as you open the door.

No answer.

You strain your hearing as you swear you hear some shuffling and thumping, but that noise could just be coming from down the hall. He does have some noisy neighbors.

You enter the apartment and close the door behind you. “Dick?”

There’s a crash and you jump, your heart in your throat, but the familiar string of curses eases your fear. You follow the noise and come face to face with a wide eyed Dick shirtless covered in nasty forming bruises in the middle of his bathroom.

A whimper escapes your lips and you rush forward, cupping his face in your hand. “What the hell happened to you? I thought you managed to get the night off?” You turn his head this way and that, and then push him back by grabbing his shoulder to look at his torso and back. Only letting go when he winces at a particularly hard tug. “Oh shit! I’m sorry!”

He grabs your wrists not allowing you to give him space. “You’re not blushing,” he says cheekily, his eyes twinkling even with the slowly forming bruise.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Why would I be—“ Your eyes drag down to his naked torso peppered with old wounds and spanking brand new bruises and you immediately feel a wave of heat spreading through your body. “Oh.”

He laughs softly, chuckling almost, low and a sweet timbre.

But when your eyes fall lower, you’re doused in cold water, black, almost skin tight material—unitard?—and a black holster wrapped around his right leg greeting you. This isn’t his police uniform! What is he wearing? And why does it look like kevlar? “Why are you—“

You’re not allowed a moment to ask because Dick pulls you towards him with a tug of your wrists and you fall against his chest, barely bracing yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, large hands flat against your back.

“Dick?”

“I’m okay,” he murmurs airily into your hair and you don’t know what to do, you’re pretty sure he can feel and hear your pacing heart.

You repeat his name, trying to pull away from him to look into his eyes. He doesn’t let you.

He inhales. “Just give me a moment and I’ll answer any questions you might have.”

You sigh, warm air brushing against his bare skin, and the hands that braced yourself on the kitchen sink wrap around his torso loosely. “What happened?”

Circles are traced on your shirt, one hand climbing higher to cradle the back of your head. “Remember the guy who tried to rob you?” You nod and hum, remembering that crooked nosed, pale skin idiot who thought you’d be an easy target. “He escaped during transfer today with the help of some of his friends, and I went after them. Off record.”

You pull away from him and look up at him with wide eyes and slack jaw to find his serious gaze on you, lips pulled down into a thin line. “What do you mean off record?” Your throat closes and the back of your nose stings—he went after them ‘cause that man tried hurting you? “Dick, what if something happened—”

His eyes bore into you and his thumb find purchase on your face, tracing the curve of your cheekbone. “It's just a couple of scratches and bruises. I’m okay. I promise.”

You blink back your tears and lean into his touch. “You still shouldn’t have gone by yourself!”

“I didn’t,” he says softly. “I went with a friend.”

Your nose scrunches, your eyes still watery. “Rohrbach?”

He shakes his head. “No. Better, Robin.”

“Robin?” You try to remember if he’s ever mentioned anyone named Robin at the precinct, but you’re pretty sure he hasn’t—“Wait. Robin? As in Batman’s Robin?” His gaze doesn’t change, it remains serious and your heart leaps in your chest. “You really know Robin?”

He finally cracks a smile and you’re half expecting him to say he’s joking (you don’t know which is worse, him joking about knowing Robin when he’s aware how much admiration teen you had for him or finding out that he really went after that thug and his friends on his own!), but instead he answers with a simple, “Yeah.”

“Dick, if you’re—“

He chuckles, his thumb that had been tracing your cheekbone dragging down to your bottom lip, slowly tracing the swell. You would have melted if there weren’t more pressing matters at hand. “I’m not playing with you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fall to his torso and down to his pants and the hanging arms of his unitard and they snap back up, alarmed. “Are you—does this mean you’re also a—“ you can’t even form a proper sentence, the rushing of your blood flowing through your head and ears drown out your thoughts and voice.

His hands drop from your frame and you take a step back as he adjusts the unitard, slipping into it only to have you gasping at the familiar symbol on his chest—Nightwing.

Without waiting for his permission, your fingers trace the symbol, the material under your fingers soft and somehow firm. A deep ache blooms in your chest, your nose wrinkling and Dick reacts quickly, cupping your face with his now covered hands, and you’d laugh any other time at the fact that his suit is falling forward and down his arms, but you’re too busy trying to keep yourself from crying.

It all makes sense now! His double shifts and all the injuries—gods. How could you have been so blind?

He rubs the corner of your eyes and coos gently, worry swimming in his eyes and honestly, that’s not fair! You’re the only one allowed to be worried right now! “Hey, hey, why are you crying, huh? What’s wrong?”

Your head falls forward and Dick leans down to press his forehead against yours. “This isn’t going to make me worry less about you, Dick.” Your fingers wrap around his thick forearms. “You promised you were going to try staying safe and this,” you pause to sigh, refusing to meet his eyes, ”this isn’t going to keep you safe.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the space between you. “I’m sorry I’m going to make you worry. I’m sorry I’m making you cry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you say with a sniffle, because it doesn’t. You don’t care that he didn’t tell you he was Nightwing or that he allowed you to gush about Robin when he’s always known who that is. What matters is that now you know Dick is out every night as Nightwing risking his life and you’re not happy about that. That’s what matters.

“But I won’t break my promise.” You squeeze his arm. “I promised you I would try, and ever since that night, I’ve done my best to keep to that, and I always will.” His nose bumps against yours, trying to get you to look at you and you do, suddenly aware of the lack of space between you. “I have someone to come home to now.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and your heart pounds against your rib cage. You’re no longer okay being just friends with Dick, not when he says things like that and when he’s looking at you like this either—like you’re the only thing that matters and all he wants is to keep you trapped in his arms (you wouldn’t fight him if he tried).

Before you can voice anything, coherent or incoherent, your mouth is sealed shut by a paid of chapped lips. It’s a small peck, but it’s enough to send a tumble of acrobats into a frenzy. And all you want is to feel his lips against yours again, and so you meet him halfway after a shallow collection of breath.

Lips move in tandem, heads tilting this way and that and it’s all very much like the passionate romcom movie kisses you’ve seen over the years, the kind you’d dream about every time Dick would kiss different parts of your face and never your lips. It’s all fire and sweetness, like fireworks on a hot summers’ day and watermelon juice dripping down your chin.

A loud boom echoes in the quiet night and you jerk away from Dick, eyes snapping to his bedroom entrance, the windows covered with blinds allowing the bright flashes of light to filter in.

“Did we miss the countdown?” you find yourself asking dumbly, a little breathless and mind still reeling from his intense kiss.

He presses another one to your temple, chuckling. “Does it matter?”

“It’s the New Year!”

“Could really care less,” he grumbles, voice coming from deep in his chest as his lips dragging from the corner of your eyes to your lips, pulling you away from the firework show outside. “Too busy trying to make out with my gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” you tease in between kisses.

“Mhmm, have been trying to make her mine for a couple of months now, but she’s pretty clueless. ‘S supposed to be one of the best reporters in all of the tri state area, too.”

“Should’ve said something, Dick. I’m not a mind reader.”

He chuckles, pulling away from your lips for just a moment. “There’s something else you should know.”

“What?” you ask, a little hazily.

“I was Robin.”

And before you can ask him to elaborate on that or you’re allowed to be embarrassed, he closes the distance between you once more and kisses you senseless.

To think you thought you’d regret going to Megan’s a little over a year ago; if only the you from then could see you now, happy and moved on.

#dick grayson x reader #richard dick grayson x reader #robin x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #reader insert #young justice #titans #fanfic #young justice fic #titans fic

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nathyfaith · 5 years

Text

Give You Love

This was inspired by the Gabriel Monthly Challenge for August.

Statement Prompt: It was as though the entire summer had flown past in the time it took him to blink.

Summary: Gabriel remembered two things very clearly, the moment Dean told him Sam was dead and the moment he decided he would sacrifice anything for Sam's soul, including his immortal life. Pairing: Gabriel /Sam Winchester Warnings: Angst and fluff

AO3

Special thanks to my adorable beta-reader and savior @youarentreadingthis

"You may need me there To carry all your weight But you're no burden I assure You tide me over With a warmth I'll not forget But I can only give you love"

Sam stretched, his long arms going behind his neck as he allowed his head to lull in them for a second. In front of him, books upon more books, scrolls, notes and way too many empty cups of coffee laid over the war table.

His eyes hurt after hours of going through moldy papers with useless information, his mind working non-stop. All these people in the bunker were just useless to him. None of them were short with golden ethereal eyes, light brown hair and a teasing smirk. None of them were Gabriel.

And his guilt only grew. He didn't know how to push away the image of Gabriel, one of the most powerful beings in the universe, being gutted by Michael. He couldn't overcome this loss once again without fighting to make things right. He knew it was futile, knew he couldn't possibly bring Gabriel back by his force of will, but boy, did he try.

He spent a lot of time plotting, another great portion of it praying, and when sleep finally claimed him it was dreamless.

****

It was as though the entire summer had flown past in the time it took him to blink.

Or rather an entire year. Gabriel remembered two things very clearly, the moment Dean told him Sam was dead and the moment he decided he would sacrifice anything for Sam's soul, including his immortal life.

Fragments of noises and voice reached him slowly, disturbing the quietness that felt almost hypnotic as if he suddenly decided to breathe it would break such a dull spell. It was pitch black, and Gabriel could only see darkness, the stagnated air troubling him. He had heard about this place, of this being, of everlasting peacefulness --- boring --- that’s what it was. Dad help him, he was not going to stay a second longer in this place.

I wonder if you knew.

Gabriel closed his vessel’s eyes and opened them again in alarm. The question spoken as a declaration of sorts shook him. His grace tingled to the surface, building as strong as ever, if not more. That was new. Someone clearly had nothing better to do than write, pray and think about him. The lowest and less loved archangel, or so he thought.

"Oh, wonderful. Another one." The voice was crude, hardly amused.

"Who is there? Where am I?" Gabriel asked, rising in search of the voice.

"I won't lose my sleep on you," It said. He looked a lot like a younger version of Brad Pitt, his snark stopping Gabriel from really appreciating his physique. "I have absolutely zero patience with annoyances such as yourself. Chop-chop, you go. And preferably don't come back, as in ever."

It feels so unfair that I had no time to tell you.

Gabriel despised angel radio, mostly because focusing on it when you were out of practice was dreadful. Like a radio with interference or a human who was sound sensitive.

How to bring an archangel back from death 101. Ha. As if it was only this simple. Time to bed, you. You're getting brain fried already.

Who was getting brain fried over him?

Gabriel frowned in confusion. The Brad Pitt look-alike was nowhere in sight. Ugh, where in the world--

woosh bumph thump

-- was that his vessel falling as ungracefully as a goddamn bloody banana?

Could his return be even more ridiculous? He bet when Cassie came back the seraph graciously fell in his vessel’s legs like a perfect cheetah cat. The damn traitor. Why couldn't Cas be as clumsy as he?

And Dad above, he missed that seraph. So much it ached in his vessel’s bones. He got up, his eyes falling on the empty road. A faraway car made its presence known as it drove past him to the sound of Angel With a Shotgun, the volume bordering the sound barrier.

Amused, Gabriel dusted his jeans, only to roll his eyes at his own antics, and snapping his fingers, changing back to his favorite pair of sneakers, leather green jacket, brown shirt and washed jeans. Ah, much better.

Surely you knew I was--

I was what? In love? Head over heels? Infatuated? Honestly, Sam, it's a blessing Dean can't hear your thoughts, otherwise… endless material for teasing.

Gabriel took flight, six giant golden wings gracing the sky, cutting through clouds, the moisture of water touching his feathers. In a flap of wings, he landed easily behind the bunker. It was quiet inside, which was odd. He was expecting a buzzing of people, but as he allowed his hearing to pick up, he only caught four heartbeats: Dean, Cas, Jack, and Sam. Where was everyone?

"Hey, Gabe. How is your night today? I know this is getting boring already, but I did promise to tell you about things here until we got you back, so, here goes nothing," Sam started, his voice low and worn out.

"The otherworld hunters have left. I mean, they’re still here, but not in here anymore." Gabriel heard him sigh and could easily see Sam running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "What I meant was -- and this is a testification to my tiredness -- is that they left the bunker. And I can't for the life of me get used to this silence. Before, their constant bickering and buzzing drove me insane, but now the silence is deafening. Even Rowena, who I always cared for, no matter her faults, drove me mad. Though, regarding her, I was painfully jealous. She had a memory of you to cherish and hold dear, while all of our memories together are somehow stained with blood, mistrust, and tears. This taciturnity is driving me slowly towards insanity. It's like those minutes where I wanted to scream your name and run towards you and I couldn't-- couldn't…" Sam's voice broke in a strangled cry and Gabriel didn’t stop his grace from reacting, flying faster than a blink of an eye towards Sam.

"Sam," Gabriel murmured, invading Sam's personal space and enveloping the larger man into his arms and wings. It took a moment for Sam's brain to catch on, but the second it did, he buried himself into Gabriel's chest, allowing his warmth to course through his limbs, and his honeyed smell to wash away his fears.

“You’re not some sort of delusion of mine, are you?” Gabriel chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest, pouring into Sam’s body and reaching into his soul.

“Thanks to your stubbornness, I’m a 100% powered archangel, and I’m afraid The Empty doesn't take returns.” Sam had tears tainting his cheeks, his eyes were red and his clothes had clearly seen better days. Gabriel kissed his temple, knowing Sam needed the reassurance of his touch, using the bit of grace to change the boy's clothes to comfy pajamas and clean his room of the mess it had been made with cups of coffee, dirty clothes over that particular armchair everyone in the planet seemed to own, and overused sheets.

Sam relaxed in his embrace, almost falling asleep cocooned inside Gabriel's wings, his fingers lightly brushing one of them, "Samish?"

The archangel had maneuvered them into a more comfortable position in Sam's bed. The boy was draped over him like an overgrown octopus. Sam hummed in response, his eyelids heavy with the soft caress of Gabriel's fingers through his hair.

"You surely must have known that I love you too, kiddo," Gabriel confessed, hugging Sam tighter and save in his wings.

Sam woke up feeling better than ever. His hair was all over the place like a bird's nest, his cupcake pajamas and fluffy white socks caring him towards the kitchen, the promise of coffee and bacon allowing to push the sweet dream in the deep corners of his mind. Gabriel's warmth and perfume still lingered in his mind if it were corporeal, Sam swore he would have been able to touch it.

"Dean? Cas?" He called, as he passed through closed doors, and even if it was around nine in the morning, Dean usually made a lot more noise singing and chit-chatting with Jack or Cas.

Could it have been real? Sam dared to hope.

"Samshine!! How are you in this fine morning?" Gabriel greeted him, his smile as shining as the sun.

"Gabe--" he exhaled, surprised.

"What's gonna be, Sammoose? Pancakes, cereal, orange juice or would rather have a kiss first?" The archangel teased him, moving an eyebrow suggestively.

Sam ignored Gabriel's antics walking straight towards him and pulling him into a hug, every part of them touching each other. Gabriel could hear the hunter's heartbeat slowing down as he relaxed in the archangel's embrace. "I--"

"I know Sam. Question is, do you?" Gabriel asked him, moving slightly so his hand rested on Sam's left cheek as the other rested in the curve of the hunter's back.

"Do I, what?"

"How much I love you, you self righteous dumbass, you bibliophile, you Dad perfect hair--"

Sam didn't need another invitation to claim the archangel's lips and that's how Dean found them two minutes later, mumbling about being scarred for life, grabbing little brothers and sneaky tiny archangel's.

Cas did everyone a favor and kissed him senseless too, Jack smiled at the scene when he popped in the kitchen to robbed three cookies while one was already shoved in his mouth unceremoniously. All was right in his world.

@gabriel-monthly-challenge, @archangelgabriellives, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @archangelsanonymous, @ttttrickster, @warlockwriter, and @revwinchester

#gabriel #archangel gabriel #gabriel monthly challenge #sam winchester #jack kline #dean winchester #castiel

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madam-lit-nerd · 5 years

Text

The Apocalypse AU, pt 2.

Previous | Next

The next couple weeks, Cas fell into an easy schedule. Wake up, bathe, get the kids ready if it was his day, breakfast. Once he was in the playroom with Rachel and Hanna, his schedule was just as it had been before, complete with snack time and group naps. After, he’d help his six wash up then herd them all down to dinner where he’d eat with Dean and a few others, like Dean’s brother Sam and his mate Eileen, or sometimes Jo and Ruby.

Castiel grew so used to his routine that, when the day finally arrived that Dean wasn’t waiting at the usual table, Castiel actually felt disoriented.

Once he had his six settled and eating, Castiel walked over to where Sam at another table to ask about the alpha.

“Supplies trip!” The tall beta explained. “He’ll be back in a couple days.” He smiled kindly. “Did you need something?”

Cas shook his head profusely. “No, I’d just gotten used to seeing him, I suppose.”

Sam’s smile grew, as if that news pleased him somehow. “He’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

Castiel offered his own timid smile then returned to his usual table to eat with the children.

After dinner, Castiel led the children back to their rooms for some downtime. Usually he was too busy answering inane questions and lending a guiding hand to notice his surroundings, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched...studied.

He looked over his shoulder once, twice, but saw no one there. With an uneasy hum, he hurried the children along.

—

Once Castiel had gotten the children safely tucked in for the night, he wandered down to the bathroom to brush his teeth before bed. He’d just barely turned the corner when he felt it again, that inescapable certainty that he was being watched.

After only a moment’s thought, he spun around to face whoever was there, only to find the hallway empty.

“You really are awful at this game, aren’t you?”

Castiel froze at the low voice right next to his ear. He didn’t recognize it, whoever it was. Instead, he shook his head.

“I didn’t know we were playing a game.”

“Little tease like you?” Suddenly there was a nose pressed to his neck. The omega jumped away with a yelp, finally spinning around to see the alpha who’d been staring at him in the dining hall.

“What do you want?”

“I just want to get to know you,” the alpha said, leering at Castiel knowingly. “Pretty little pregnant thing like you probably knows lots of tricks.”

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know anything?”The alpha chuckled at the tremble in his voice, and Castiel knew with absolute certainty that there would be no mercy. This alpha...he enjoyed the scent of an omega when it was afraid.

“I don’t know who you are, or who you think I am, but I’m not that,” Castiel tried to keep his voice firm. “Your games aren’t interesting.”

“Oh Castiel,” the alpha rumbled, leaning over Castiel, trapping him. “I know exactly who you are. I know what you want, and I’m gonna give it to—“

Just then a door opened down the hall, and a young Asian man stepped out of his room.

Gordon sneered at the young man then shot one final heavy look toward Castiel. “We’ll finish this later, omega.” Then he spun and walked away.

The young man, Castiel’s savior, came to stand next to him. “Are you okay, you don’t look so good...”

“Who was that?” Castiel whispered.

“That’s Gordon. He’s kind of a dick.”

Now that the alpha, Gordon, had gone, Castiel couldn’t stop the trembling. He reached out to grab the young man’s arm and squeezed tightly.

“I need to see Sam.”

—

Dean strolled back into the compound, whistling merrily as he nodded at different people he passed. It had been a damn successful trip, and now they had rations to last them a long while.

He spotted Sam standing near the stairs and strode up to greet him, slapping him on the shoulder genially.

“Sammy!”

“Dean,” Sam’s expression was tense, guarded. “Everything go well?”

“Yeah,” Dean’s good mood faltered. “What happened here?”

“It’s Gordon...”

Dean let out a long sigh. Of course it was.

“What was it this time?”

Sam grimaced and shook his head. “Apparently he took a liking to the new omega.”

“Cas?” Dean blanched as Sam nodded. “Shit...”

“I guess he tried to make a move on him after dinner the other night...luckily Kevin came along, stopped him from doing anything.”

Dean was breathing deep and slow, trying to keep his temper under control. That bastard had no problem attacking a helpless omega? In Cas’s condition?

Sam gripped his shoulder, tried to keep him present in the conversation. “I shuffled some things around, moved him to the night crew downstairs. He’ll have different meal times, different sleep times.”

Dean growled lowly in his throat. When he looked back to Sam, he could see that his brother was taken aback.

“Dean, your eyes...”

So they’d gone red, then. Dean didn’t care, he had other priorities at the moment.

With a snarl, he spun on his heel and stormed away.

“Where are you going?” Sam called, tailing after him uncertainly.

“I’m gonna go have a little chat with Gordon.”

He found the alpha in the basement, just finishing up his night shift. There was no warning, no preamble. Dean simply grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the nearest wall.

“You been harassing omegas?” He shook Gordon roughly. “In my compound! I brought that omega here, promised him safety, and you attacked him?”

Gordon bared his teeth in a savage grin. “He was asking for it.”

“He wasn’t asking for shit, not from you,” Dean seethed. He leaned in close, just enough for Gordon to hear him whisper. “I oughta throw you outside the walls right now.”

“Dean,” Sam warned from behind him. “He’s got the message.”

Dean slowly released Gordon’s collar, took one step back, then another.

“If you so much as step within twenty feet of him again,” Dean paused, let his words resonate. “I’ll push you out the front gate myself.”

—

Dean waited until his alpha had settled and his eyes had bled back to their usual green before he tracked Castiel down. The poor thing had already had one bad scare from an overbearing alpha; he didn’t need another so soon.

He stood just outside the doorway, peeking in to watch as Cas sat in the middle of a circle on the floor, laughing with the children as they sang a song about teeth.

When they finished singing, he turned to a young boy. “See, Tyler? It’s normal to lose teeth.”

The boy grinned, his tongue swiping to play with a loose tooth.

“Do you think the tooth fairy will be able to find us here?” Another child asked.

Castiel shrugged. “That sounds like a good question for your mom. I bet she knows all about the tooth fairy!”

Castiel turned to the children on the opposite side of the circle. “I think it’s your turn to start the snack line. Why don’t you go get lined up so Rachel can give you snacks?”

As the children started to walk toward the table at the far end of the room, Castiel slowly pushed himself to his feet and meandered toward the door. Dean smiled at the way Cas threw one final glance over his shoulder before slipping out into the hall to join the alpha.

“You’re back!”

“Yep, just got in a few minutes ago,” Dean hedged. “How are the kiddos?”

“They’re doing great! A few of them are still unsure of what’s happening, but that might be for the best...”

“Yeah,” Dean ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Look, Cas...”

Castiel sighed and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Dean.”

Dean’s mouth turned down at the edges. “Of course I’m gonna worry about it! I promised you a safe space, and instead...”

“Sam took care of it,” Castiel assured him, his tone that same soothing level he used with the children at nap time. “And I haven’t seen him since.”

Dean shook his head. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

With a gentle smile, Castiel laid a hand on Dean’s arm. “You can’t control what everyone does. I know it’s the alpha in you, but you just can’t.”

After studying him for a long moment, Dean nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Just...I can’t have anything happening to you.”

Castiel’s heart stuttered in his chest at the vulnerability in the alpha’s tone.

“To me?”

Dean’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. “I can’t afford for anyone to feel unsafe!”

“Of course,” Castiel murmured, desperately trying to ignore the blush staining his cheeks. “I just...I understand.”

“Good, good,” Dean muttered. “So, uh, see you at dinner?”

Cas nodded hastily and turned to head back into the playroom, listening as Dean’s footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

—

“So you’re headed out again?” Castiel asked, his hand smoothing back and forth over his tummy. He didn’t let himself think about the fact that it was a soothing gesture, didn’t want to think about what that meant, that he only really did it when Dean was going out on supply runs and scouting trips.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “Some punks were causing trouble for this latest group we got.”

Cas glanced past him to where Benny and a few other guys were gearing up with a variety of firearms and blades.

“I wish...” he trailed off with a sigh. It was no good to wish; Dean felt this was part of his duty as the leader. He’d always do his duty.

“Hey,” Dean ducked his head to catch Castiel’s eye. “We’ll be back in just a couple days. And if Gordon gives you any trouble, Sam will handle him.”

Yes, that must be it. Castiel was just worried about what Gordon might do when Dean had left again. That’s why he was so upset.

He offered Dean a timid smile. “Please be safe?”

Dean winked. “Don’t worry. I always am.”

—

Four days later, when Dean still hadn’t returned, Castiel let himself worry.

—

When the group of bedraggled men stumbled into the compound after another three days—a full week after they’d left—Castiel almost burst into tears. Dean was back, alive and safe. It was Benny whose leg had gotten hurt, holding up the group’s return, but even he seemed fine, aside from needing to be supported between two other men for his leg.

Castiel stepped forward to go greet Dean, welcome him back, but before he could get very far, Cassie was there, throwing herself onto Dean with a loud cry of, “I was so worried about you!”

Castiel turned and headed back toward the stairs. He had to get back to the playroom... The children would want to hear the good news about Dean’s return.

—

With a groan, Cas heaved himself from the floor where they’d been seated for story circle. At six months along, he was getting too big to sit down there with the children. His body ached and protested more and more these days.

“Let’s go wash up for snack time. Everybody find your buddy!”

He watched as smaller children grabbed onto older children, thrilled at the prospect of being “buddies” with a big kid. The older children, having already been given a talk about helping out and doing their part, loved that they were old enough to have such an important responsibility to help Cas.

The system also took some of the hectic responsibility off the busy workers, which they were all grateful for.

“Now march!”

As the children fake-marched down the hall with Hanna at the head and Rachel at the middle, Castiel brought up the rear. They were just turning into the main hall when Castiel heard the now familiar, “Hey, Cas!”

Even though Dean’s greeting was familiar now, Castiel still tensed for the briefest of seconds before he recognized the voice. Even though it had been weeks since Gordon had cornered him, he still flinched at every unexpected noise.

“Dean,” Cas smiled as he turned to face the approaching alpha. “How was the supplies run?”

“Awesome!” The alpha declared. His eyes seemed tight around the edges. “Better than we hoped. Listen,” here he faltered with a bit of uncertainty, but Castiel smiled encouragingly and nodded for him to continue. Dean cleared his throat. “I noticed, the last time I stopped by the playroom, that you’re having a little more trouble getting up and down from the floor. So, uh...” he ran a hand over the back of his neck, “well, we found this really nice rocking chair.“

Castiel’s face broke into a wide smile. “Really?”

Dean seemed surprise by his reaction but nodded. “Uh, yeah. Jo’s scrubbing it down right now, but I can bring it up to the play room later?”

“Thank you!” Castiel enthused, squeezing the alpha’s forearm excitedly. “I was just thinking today that I’d need to figure something else out besides the floor.”

“Awesome. So I’ll see you in a bit?”

“See you soon,” Castiel responded, watched as Dean walked back the way he’d come. He ignored the little flip his heart gave at the realization that Dean had thought about him, had brought him back a rocking chair, of all things.

—

Dean knew that Jo wouldn’t be finished with the rocking chair for a few minutes yet, so instead he detoured down to the basement. He found the work crew, made up entirely of engineers and construction workers, at the back of the room, planning the underground expansion the compound desperately needed.

“Gordon,” Dean called, his tone brooking no argument. The tall lanky alpha broke away from the others and stepped up to Dean.

“Dean,” he responded easily, but his eyes were wary.

“Have you been going up by the playroom?”

Gordon snorted. “Don’t worry, I haven’t gone near your precious omega. You can ask these guys,” he gestured back toward the other men on the crew who were all pretending not to listen.

Dean glanced at Victor, the crew chief, who gave a brief nod of affirmation.

“Good,” Dean murmured. “Don’t forget my warning.”

I’ll push you out the front gate myself. “I never do,” Gordon replied lowly.

—

When Dean set the rocking chair down in the corner of the playroom, Castiel actually giggled.

“Thank you so much, Dean!”

Dean smiled at his enthusiasm and gestured toward it, “Why don’t you give it a spin?”

With a nod, Castiel slowly levered himself down into the chair. As soon as his weight had settled and his feet were relieved of their burden, Cas let out a long, happy sigh.

“It’s perfect!” He declared even as his eyes slipped shut. “Just what I needed.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Dean murmured.

Cas’s eyes fluttered open, his stomach flip-flopping again at the fond smile Dean wore.

Oh, Castiel was really in trouble now.

—

Long after Dean had moved on to deal with business in other parts of the compound, Castiel sat in his rocking chair, thinking things over. He smiled at the thought of those kind, green eyes and that ready smile. Those broad shoulders and that tight—

With an internal groan, Castiel wrenched his thoughts away from the alpha’s physique. Not the time or place...

Dean had enough on his plate with running the sanctuary, keeping everyone safe and fed. He didn’t need some sappy omega who’d caught feelings pining after him, especially an omega who was pregnant with another alpha’s pup.

When Cas had first arrived, with Michael’s death a fresh wound in his heart that reopened every night, he never would have thought of even looking at another alpha, much less wanting one. But now, as weeks and months had passed, Castiel knew he couldn’t keep ignoring those little things about Dean—how he was kind to everyone, always helpful, always ready with a smile, even in the midst of stress

Cas had recently begun to realize that he looked forward to those warm smiles and bright eyes a little too much. When Dean went out on patrols with others, it was Dean that Cas worried about the most. And he always felt a little too giddy when Dean stopped by the playroom to check in.

And wasn’t that a terrifying realization, that not only was Castiel moving on after Michael, but that his heart had actually found someone new...

He considered, for the briefest of seconds, ignoring Dean, giving himself room to figure out the emotions, adapt and hide them. But almost as soon as the thought crossed Castiel’s mind, he dismissed it. With their tight quarters here, ignoring Dean just wasn’t feasible.

So if Cas couldn’t ignore Dean, he’d just ignore his feelings for the alpha. Easy peasy, right?

Plus, if Dean were inclined to take a mate right now, he’d probably choose from the multiplicity of unmated omegas they had here, several of which regularly sought Dean’s attentions, like Anna or Cassie.

No, Castiel would do well to remember his situation and just keep those pesky feelings far away beneath the surface.

Next chapter

Still more to come! Part 1 is over here.

#yeah I wrote something #apocalypse au #alpha!dean #omega castiel #pregnant!castiel #destiel ficlet #destiel fic #destiel oneshot #series

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a34trgv2 · 5 years

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Why It Worked: Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase 2

Introduction: Picking up were we last left off on Why It Worked, Phase 2 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe expands on this ever expanding franchise with new characters, new stories and new creative visions. This Phase is often regarded as the “hit or miss” period in the MCU, but I’d argue it succeeds so much more than it falters. So without further adieu, let’s get started.

The Plots: Phase 2 comprises mainly of sequels to the Phase 1 movies, and yet they all feel natural and very much stand on their own. Iron Man 3 picks up where The Avengers left off and sees Tony Stark battle with PTSD. All the while, he faces off against a notorious terrorist called the Mandarin (more on him later). Thor: The Dark World finds the Norse god of thunder protecting the 9 Realms from the Dark Elves, who’s sole purpose is to drown the universe in darkness. Captain America: The Winter Solider shows who Steve Rogers adjusts to the modern world as he faces off against the mysterious foe, the Winter Solider. And finally, Avengers: Age of Ultron finds Earth’s Mightiest Heroes face off against an A.I. who’s idea of saving the world is destroying it with a meteor. There are 2 films this Phase that aren’t sequels: Guardians of the Galaxy and Ant-Man. The former opens up the cosmic side of the MCU by introducing a rag tag team of misfits who must ban together to stop an vengeful warlord from reeking havoc upon the galaxy. The latter is a heist movie involving a guy trying to be a good role model to his daughter while also communicating with ants. This films bring in the same amount of charm and humor the first Phase brought and then some. Guardians of the Galaxy in particular had some of the smartest and well timed jokes in the MCU up until that point. Not only that, but there this Phase also brought in life changing events that carried on in future films. Tony’s paranoia caused him to build Ultron, S.H.I.E.L.D. became compromised and ultimately destroyed in Winter Solider and even with that, HYDRA lives on in other parts of the world by Age of Ultron. None of this would’ve at all been possible if it weren’t for the creative talents of Shane Black, Alan Taylor, Joe and Anthony Russo, James Gunn, Joss Whedon (again), and Peyton Reed.

Cast and Characters: Since we’re all familiar with the core Avengers at this point, let’s introduce the new faces starting with Sam Wilson aka Falcon. Sam is Steve Roger’s new friend introduced in Winter Solider. A veteran himself with a smart and charming personality, he and Steve hit it off almost instantly. Plus, Anthony Mackie is just right for the role, making the character funny, smart and tough in his own right. Next up we have the Guardians of the Galaxy, featuring Peter Jason Quill, Gamora, Drax the Destroyer, Rocket Raccon and Groot. Peter starts off as a Han Solo-type of character, but throughout the film we find his full of layers. He’s got charm, humor, heart, anger, cockiness, he’s basically the every man in this wacky side of the galaxy. All brought to life flawlessly by Chris Pratt. Gamora is a headstrong and dangerous woman who plays against the love interest trope in this film as she has great resentment for her father Thanos and sister Nebula. It also helps that she’s played brilliantly by Zoe Saldana, who brings the right amount of humor and fierce veracity to the character. Drax is meant to be this stoic tragic figure who seeks to avenge his fallen family. And yet his lack of understanding metaphors and Dave Bautista’s performance make him one of the funniest characters in this franchise. Then we have Rocket and Groot, a raccoon and a tree man who became household names over night. Rocket is a fowl mouth, sarcastic and crude rodent with a good heart under that ruff exterior. Groot meanwhile is wears his heart on his bark, having such a calm and gentle demeanor, while also not being afraid to be the muscle Rocket needs. Bradley Cooper and Vin Diesel bring these characters to life through their commitment and strife; I couldn’t have picked anyone better. Moving on from the Guardians, we have Scott Lang, the thief with a heart of gold who’s trying to be a good role model for his daughter, Cassie. It goes without saying that Scott’s funny (being played by comedic actor Paul Rudd and all), but he’s also very smart and caring for those around him. His skills in robbery and breaking and entering make him perfectly capable of dawning the Ant-Man costume, at least in the eyes of Hank Pym. Speaking of which, the original Ant-Man from the comics is now a wise, crusty old man with a good heart. Michael Douglas gives an excellent performance as this character, making it believable that he was at one time a superhero and is now passing the torch to a younger suitor. Hank’s daughter, Hope is a smart, stern and strong woman who at first resents her father for pushing her away after her Mom went MIA. After learning the truth, she comes to respect him and Scott a little more. Evangeline Lilly is perfect as Hope, delivering the right amount of humor and heart to. These new characters are just as memorable and as well fleshed out as the ones we’ve come to know and love at this point. And that’s not even mentioning Yondu, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, Vision, Harley Keener, Luis, Dave and Kurt, and Cassie.

The Big Baddies: I’ll just say this upfront: The Mandarin twist wasn’t bad. Unexpected, yes, but for the story Shane Black was trying to tell, it works wonders. I get fans wanted what we were advertised, but I think what we got works better. Iron Man 3 was a personal story first and foremost, so having him face of against an evil space wizard, while it would’ve been cool, it wouldn’t have fit with the overall narrative. Besides, Sir Ben Kingsley gave an excellent performance, being a menacing threat and a comedic fool all in one. Then we get Malekith, the quintessential example people point to when people say “Marvel villains suck.” <sigh> He’s not that bad folks. Malekith is a stone cold Dark Elf with one goal in life: to plunge the universe into darkness. He’s merciless, he’s dead serious and he sees the Asgardians as beneath him. Yeah, he wasn’t on screen for that long, but Christopher Eccleston gave a solid performance. Alexander Pierce makes for a really compelling villain because he firmly believes himself to be the savior of the world. Robert Redford brings out his calm and professional demeanor, while also making the character charismatic and intriguing. Ronan the Accuser is a power hunger warlord that sees the people of Xandar as beneath him, to the point were instead of siding with the peace treaty between the Kree and Nova Corp, he opts to try and obliterate the planet with the power of an Infinity Stone. Lee Pace gives a solid performance bringing the character’s anger and hatred to life and I look forward to see him again in Captain Marvel. Ultron is exactly what you get when you have the personality of Tony Stark and mix it with the genetic code of HAL9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Ultron has charisma, humor and a very passive aggressive attitude towards the Avengers. James Spader was perfect casting in this role as he gives a robot bent on destroying the Earth as his idea of saving it so much personality. Darren Cross is the young novitiate of Hank Pym turned corporate businessman attempting to sell Pym’s technology to the wrong hands. Corey Stoll manages to make the character funny, quirky and intimidating all in one and definitely deserves as much credit as the rest of his costars. The villains in Phase 2 are a step up from Phase 1 and will only get better come Phase 3.

Costumes and VFX: Not only were the villains a step up from Phase 1, but the costumes and CGI has improved significantly as well. Some familiar stuff such as Iron Man’s armor, Cap’s costume and the Hulk’s design have been given significant upgrades with each film. All the armors Tony has made in between Avengers and Iron Man 3 look excellent; no two armors look alike and the way they’re incorporated into battle is better than ever. Cap’s giving a more stealth like costume in Winter Solider and it fits very well with the spy angel the Russo brothers were going for. Then we have the look of the Hulk, who still brought to life through motion capture performance and looks more lifelike with more hair and softer looking skin. With the addition of new characters and new environments, there also came the use of new costumes and unique uses of CG. Despite being revealed to be a fraud, the Mandarin’s costume looks spectacular, giving him a modern terrorist look while also keeping his traditional green rob and a ring on each finger. The look of Asgard received a significant upgrade since the first Thor film, as it now has a Norse mythology feel and the costumes on the citizens look very authentic. Also, the costume and make-up department went above and beyond to make the Dark Elves distinct from previous film/tv portrayals of elves. They have pale faces with pointed ears and noses, pitch black armor and soulless eyes. The Kurse himself looks amazing with all the horns, body armor and actor Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaji (try saying that 3x fast) making the character physically intimidating. The Winter Solider’s metal arm is brought to life with actor Sebastian Stan wearing a plastic sleeve while CG was used in post. Also, for Hayley Atwell to reprise her role as a 93 year old Peggy Carter, she performed her scenes with a few trace markers while Lola VFX (who made Chris Evans skinny in the first Captain America film) added in the features of an elderly woman to make effect feel seamless. Then we get the Guardians and boy is this film littered with a mix of practical and digital effects. Starting with Rocket James Gunn’s brother, Sean, played the little rodent on set to interact with the cast while Bradley Cooper recorded his lines in New York. For reference, they used a real life raccoon named Oreo (who recently passed away, RIP) as well as a lifelike model before CG companies like Framestore brought him to life. Same treatment was applied to Groot, who was played by Krystian Godlewski on set and sources such as a botanical garden in London was used as reference. Zoe Saldana spent at least 5 hours a day in the make-up chair and the final result is flawless. Dave Bautista meanwhile spent at least 4 hours a day in the make up chair and looks just as believable as Saldana. The locations explored in Guardians such as the Kyln and Knowhere, are brought to life through practical effects for filming with the additional CG for wide shots. It all looks so real and authentic like the characters are actually there. Ant-Man’s costume is significantly different from the comics, but is very practical and lifelike. It also helps that when ever something shrink or grows, the effect is a subtle nodded to how Jack Kirby drew them in the comics. Lastly, we have Ultron, who’s brought to life with James Spade in a motion capture suit and a lifelike model used as reference. There’s plenty of other examples of the amazing use of CG and practical effects in these films, such as the de-aging of Michael Douglas in Ant-Man, the way Wanda Maximoff uses her magic, Yondu’s arrow and so much more, but to list them all will take forever.

Where it Falters: Edger Wright having a falling out with Marvel producer Kevin Feige robbed audiences of what could’ve been a great film. Not that Ant-Man was bad, quite the opposite. But having seen Scott Pillgrim vs. The World and Baby Driver, I feel as though it was a missed opportunity to let Edger make the film he wanted to make. Also, for a place called “the Dark World” it’s not really that dark. Also, I feel as though Pietro Maximoff was killed off a little too soon. I mean, we just met him and Aaron Taylor-Johnson was doing a good job as the character. Narratively speaking it makes sense, but I personally would’ve kept him around until Infinity War. Lastly, the Marvel One-Shot All Hail the King hinted that the real Mandarin was out there. It’s now been 5 years since that short and we’ve heard nothing from this “real” Mandarin. I’m hoping this get’s addressed sooner or later, otherwise it just feels like an attempt to silence detractors of Iron Man 3.

Conclusion: Marvel significantly improved their craft with Phase 2 and continues to grow strong to this day. With colorful new characters, exciting new locations, impressive VFX and costumes and great acting all all around, this is only a prelude in terms of quality for what might be the greatest era of the MCU yet. Thanks so much for reading and I’ll see you soon ;)

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dragomer · 5 years

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Why Is It Always a Mirror ?

I don't know how to start this but I just went through what I hope is the strangest thing that will ever happen to me.

This all began a few weeks ago when I bought an old mirror on ebay after my two young daughters, Sarah and Cassie, respectively 9 and 7 got into another fight about who got to use the mirror in their room to play dress up, usually Sarah is much more calm and gentler than her more energetic and assertive younger sister but when it got in the way of her princess fantasy, all bets were off.

I came across that mirror after I had calmed them down, soothed the hurt feelings, put band aids over the bites mark, and started searching for a solution. I quickly came to the obvious conclusion that we just needed another mirror and since the mirror we already had was on Cassie's side of their room, Ifd buy one for Sarah and started searching for one. Almost immediately I came across one, at a perfectly reasonable price and what I thought was very old-school look, it wouldn't have a looked out of place in the bedroom of a princess of old, which was perfect for Sarah, so I immediately contacted the vendor.

Already it started getting weird, the vendor was a terribly tired man in his sixties if I had to judge by his voice. He was, or rather seemed, very nice though and appeared almost apologetic about making me pay anything for the mirror, at least that's how I had interpreted then. Now I know exactly why he was sorry, that asshole, he even lowered the price by himself, twice while we discussed the details, which isn't what was weird, what really made me do a double take was once he sent me the message that the mirror had been shipped and was due to arrive a few days later, his message ended with 'I'm so sorry', at which point, it clicked in my head that literally all of our interaction ended on those words. Pushing those though aside, I started preparing everything to install the new mirror on Sarah's side of their room.

It got even weirder when the mirror arrived and I realized the mirror didn't just have a old school look, it WAS old, despite the near perfect state of the mirror. You could easily tell Its antiquity was obvious upon seeing it in person, but the girls were so happy about it, I decided it was good enough, making a mental note about it probably being why the old guy was sorry. I had barely even noticed how tired and disturbed the delivery guy appeared.

Once the girls had gotten over the novelty of the 'new' mirror in their room, everything was fine, that was until the noises started. It seemed like nothing at first, you could have mistaken it for the floor slightly creaking, or the wind close to your ears, but it kept getting worse and worse, day after day until it was all I could hear once it started! Thankfully, while it got louder, it also grew shorter, the near whispers, had been nearly constant, while the screams only lasted for a few minutes a day.

If only it had just been that, I would have pierced my ear drums and kept on living, more than happy to ignore the obvious cause of those noises, but that was only the beginning...

When the noise had first started, Sarah began spending more and more time in her room, especially when Cassie wasn't around, ignoring everything, except the mirror, and just like the noise. It was subtle at first, a bit more time than usual sitting in front of that accursed mirror here, a bit more time talking to what I had assumed was her reflection there, but then their games grew worse. Her toys had started to gather dust as she even moved her bed closer the mirror so that she could stay right beside it, constantly mumbling, as if bombarded with questions she could barely follow. The only time I could even get her away to bathe was when she would fall unconscious and I would put her in the tub myself!

Weirdly enough, Cassie was absolutely oblivious to everything that was happening, while I could believe that I only I heard the noises, I had a hard time believing Cassie just didn't notice the state her sister was in, she just kept acting as if everything was still the same as before.

I know what you are thinking and believe me, I tried, the mirror wouldn't budge and when I tried taking a hammer to it, I couldn't even leave a scratch!

It was as I was losing hope that I committed a mistake, the worst you could make in that kind of scenario, I thought that it couldn't get any worse ...no, actually, I did even worse, I actually stupidly said it out loud, and sure enough, the words had barely left my lips when I heard a sinister laugh followed by Sarah screaming! I immediately rushed to my daughtersf room, knowing the sounds had to be coming from there, only to see the room was empty and Sarah was nowhere to be found.

Obviously, I immediately checked the mirror and what I saw as disturbing as it was terrifying: I saw a young looking 'boy', who didn't look day over ten. He had black hair and his skin was a sickly white, which, with the addition of his emaciated frame and the blackness surrounding his eyes, made him look really unhealthy and almost sad to look at, but the real kicker? It was his mouth, or more precisely: his sick, sadistic smile that revealed his teeth which looked like they would feel more at home in the mouth of a rabid wolf, rather than a young boy.

I promptly asked where my daughter was.

"Your daughter? Should I know her?" That was the only response I received, his mocking tone and that sinister smile, making it clear that it was just a game to him.

I told him that her name was Sarah, and that she was the girl who was always in front of the mirror.

"Oh! Sarah! I do know her, I invited her to play, I even offered her the prettiest dress I had collected, wanna see her?"

I nodded and almost immediately regretted it as Sarah began to appear beside the boy, her dress was indeed beautiful, but she looked like puppet who had her strings cut and her eyes were dead, almost as if she were a corpse, and he was parading it around in that pretty dress.

I started crying and banging on the mirror, screaming for him to give back my daughter, though all this outburst got me was an annoyed frown and a dismissive glare from the impish boy within.

"You're not a good playmate, are you? I think I'll come back once you've calmed down." This was all he said before he disappeared with Sarah, leaving me weeping in front of the mirror.

Normally, this is where the story would stop but first: I don't give up like that, especially not when my daughters are involved and second: I got really lucky.

After the usual round of calling the cops and everyone seeing me as a loony for a few days, I was contacted by someone who had read the article that had been written about the case and saw through the blatant attempts at insinuating I was a child killer.

They told that they had went through a similar ordeal and could point me toward the one who had solved their problems, they also warned me that to get his help, I should be ready to pay the price he will set after hearing my story, that the price, once decided by him couldn't be changed or negotiated, it would be take it or leave it and that big or small, the price would always be weird.

Honestly, I was already expecting to sell my soul at this point, it would have been a small price in exchange for my child's life and getting her out of that kid's grasp, that kid had a shine in his eye way too lecherous for his age.

The instructions were pretty simple, call this number and follow the directions to arrive at his office, then we could start our business. I was assured that it never takes more than about an hour. How that was possible when the person had never even met us? I preferred not to ask.

Following the specifications I had been given, I arrived at my potential savior's supposed office, that honestly looked more like an old abandoned bar than anything else. and I found it strange that I could no longer remember how I got there no matter how hard I tried, the last thing I remembered was starting to follow the instructions and here I was so I simply opened the door and entered.

Unsurprisingly, the interior was much like the outside and appeared more like an abandoned bar than anything else, but I could vaguely see another person sitting across the room so I went to greet them.

The first thing I noticed was that he was tall, very tall, almost too tall, and was dressed like he was straight out of an audition for that 'Van Hellsing' movie, the one with Wolverine.

I came to a stop in front of where he was sitting, and as I was about to speak, he said, gTrouble with a mirror, right?"

I was surprised for a second before answering that "Yes, I had 'troubles' with a mirror".

But, before I could ask how he knew this, since we hadn't talked about that yet, he continued, "How long ago did it start? When did you buy it? When was the kid taken?

I was about to answer when I realized that I didn't know...had it been a few days, weeks, months?

"Can't tell?" He spoke almost as if he could read my mind, and I nodded. "That's what I thought. Oh boy, you got a nasty one!" He laughed for a bit before noticing my glare and started with a more serious tone.

"That look tells me enough on its own. I can tell you now, that I can help you." He paused long enough to see what I can only assume was the hope fading back into my features. "I can bring back your daughter, the question is, 'are you ready to pay the price'?"

The solemn tone in his voice and the grim expression on his features were the only thing that gave me pause. It was only then that I noticed his overly pale skin and unnaturally yellow eyes, which did nothing to put me at ease.

Despite this, I was about to agree, when his face suddenly turned angry, and with a cutting voice, he said, "Aren't you going to even ask before agreeing to the deal?"

I immediately answered that 'there is no price I wouldn't pay for my daughter', an answer that really seemed to be trying his patience.

"Is that right, NO price? What about your other daughter? You have one, right? A child for a child, a fair trade, surely, but is it one you would agree with?"

Feeling like dumb child being lectured, all I could do is meekly shake my head to say no.

"Good then." He spoke curtly, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room, the seconds ticked uncomfortably until I gathered the courage to ask what the price was.

He sighed as if relieved before speaking again. "Finally! Though actually, the price IS a child for a child, just not the way in which you are thinking. When I save your daughter, then I will need you to adopt a kid that I will bring you. This boy will be quite the problem child, let me tell you, but while it won't be a walk in the park, it's not all bad, he had his good points too."

That was certainly a strange price for the life of my daughter, and raising three children as a single parent like me wouldn't be very easy, especially when the kid sounded like quite the terror, but compared to what I had been expecting, it was practically nothing! Suddenly I was feeling strangely hopeful, I could barely contain myself and simply nodded like an idiot as I started thanking the man over and over again!

"With that settled, go back to your car, go back home, and rest bit before I arrive." That was the last thing he said before turning around and opening a door that I could swear wasn't there before and disappear through it.

I did as I was told, and found myself back home before I knew it,. I went to the living room, sat on the couch, and just waited for him to arrive. Apparently I fell asleep while waiting, because I was startled awake by my supposed savior who immediately asked for me to show him the mirror.

There was something different about the house now, but for the life of me, I could not tell what or why it was.

His words cut my inquiry short as I started to look around. "Ignore everything; don't even think about it, stay completely focused on bringing me to the mirror. Saving the girl won't do much good, if we lose you to yourself. Who would care for these children then?" Heeding his warning, we continued on our way.

It took far too long to reach my daughters' room, considering the size of my home. I had taken Cassie to stay with my parents shortly after Sarah was taken, so thankfully, the room was otherwise unoccupied.

Once we were in front of the mirror, he spoke once again. "Call out to him, he'll want to play again after so long."

I did as he asked, I straight into the mirror and started pleading, begging to see my daughter until I started seeing the boy slowly appear. Much to my surprise, no sooner had he materialized then his smile quickly turned into a grimace of terror as our supposed savior suddenly darted his hand through the mirror, almost too fast for me to see, and grabbed the kid by the collar, before pulling with all his strength.

As this struggle started, the noise came back, louder than ever before, but it wasn't alone this time. A very different noise could be heard, much more powerful, and just as loud! The old noise slowly disappeared as the kid lost the struggle, and was starting to be pulled out of the mirror.

I was starting to wonder how this would bring back Sarah as the kid was finally fully pulled from the mirror, but almost immediately after, Sarah was like ejected from the mirror. I promptly went to check on her as our savior kept struggling with the boy, and noises, that almost sounded like voices, could be heard from all around me.

Sarah was surprisingly fit, as healthy as she had been the day I brought home the mirror, gone were the traces of her sleepless nights and refusal to eat.

So absorbed into making sure my daughter was fine that I hadn't noticed the struggle had ended until our savior tapped me on my shoulder.

I turned around to thank him when I noticed that the boy was at his side, though he was looking strangely chastised.

No one said anything for a while, and I had to gather up my courage to speak before asking what would happen next.

"Next? I leave, and you all live like a happy family until your daughters get boyfriends and you have to deal with a new kind of 'evil entity'." He chuckled at his attempt at a joke, though it did little to ease alleviate my misgivings.

I couldn't stop myself from asking, "But what about the price? I had to adopt a kid did I not?" It was only as I said it out loud that it dawned on me and I lowered my gaze to look at the boy, still beside the man, problem child? Talk about an euphemism!

The man simply pointed toward the boy and said "Right here. Don't worry about anymore stunts like this one, the little guy know the terms of the deal, it's a long story but none of his kind would break a deal like that. He's your little baby boy as far as you're concerned now, you can be sure no one will mess with your daughters, with a big brother like that one at least, though I wouldn't recommend physical punishment if he starts acting up, the rascal is even tougher than the mirror."

I was about to mention that he still looked like death, was dressed like a prince of old, and still had the teeth of a goddamn wolf, without forgetting how he had no identity and I would have to explain how I suddenly ended up with another kid who is older than both of my daughters, and has no verifiable past but I had a feeling I wouldn't get much help from him when it came to that, it was probably even part of the price, so I just nodded.

I put the still unconscious Sarah in bed before following the man as he was leaving, the boy already following me like a shadow. Once we got to the front door, we said our good byes and he was on his way as I was already thinking on about how I'd deal with the cops, how I now had to get Cassie back from my parentfs house, and how Ifd need to set up a room for the boy, without forgetting that I'd need to think about how I could enroll him in school.

This is when it suddenly hit me! "You do have a name, right?" I asked the boy I was unsurprised by his response to my inquiry, as all he did was shake his head 'no' before showing me that sadistic smile, filled with his demon child's 'wolf' teeth, clearly happy with the distress his response was causing me.

All I could do was sigh.

And it's on that note, that what I hope was the weirdest thing that will ever happen to me ended.

Hey, the author’s here and it’s the author’s note ! Hope you liked my little story, i wrote that just for fun and also as practice, because yes, i hope to write a lot more in the future and hopefuly improve myself, i won’t only do original works though so don’t be surprised if you see a fanfic pop up, thanks for reading and have a nice day ! ^^

@purpleplatypusbear21 It’s one of those ‘writing practice’ to work my up to creating my own stuff for the ships i like, that i mentionned in that one stats post, you’re probably not interested but it’s just so you know.

#writer #writing #original work #short story #one-shot #horror story #thanks for reading #author note

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commanderquill · 6 years

Text

Of Future Days Past

“I’m from the future,” Bart declares, his bold voice amplified across the stage, over the heads and into the ears of the hundreds of people surrounding him.

Jaime feels his breath catch. He tries not to let his anxiety show. There’s only one person looking at him, and that’s the boy standing on the stage with a microphone taped to his face, feet shoulder width apart and back rim rod straight like he’s preparing for battle. But even though it’s only one set of eyes, they’re the most important ones, and the ones that need encouragement the most. Jaime tries to put on his best smile. He’s sure it comes across shaky and uncertain.

It’s been a year since the public found out about the Justice League’s Watchtower in space, the weapons they mentioned nothing about, and the influx of aliens that could easily masquerade as humans. Butting heads with the government was bad enough, but a government gets its power from the will of its followers. Previously, the government could only do so much against a group of people supported by its citizens.

But after the invasion, the public grew less inclined to sympathize with the League. Jaime had almost expected the opposite -- hoped for the opposite. But he should have known better. The Justice League proved that they were on the side of the good, that the people who attempted to discredit and frame the League for wrongdoing had horrible intentions, but that means nothing when it comes to the question of trust. The Reach lied to them, but so did their so-called protectors.

The new initiative was Wonder Woman’s idea. If the League can reach out to the people, display their trust in the people, then maybe the people will trust in them again. Green Lantern volunteered to go first, and he walked on a stage months ago, the act broadcasted around the world as billions of eyes awaited with bated breath for the truth. He stood on that stage and explained to the entire world what a Green Lantern really is.

A police force, the protectors of the universe, but that wasn’t good enough. He explained what powers a Green Lantern ring, the emotion and the purpose behind it. He told everyone who the Guardians of the Universe are, where Oa is, and every other color on the spectrum.

He told the public what a Yellow Lantern is, and the effect of one on a Green Lantern, although he smoothly neglected to mention the incredible power of the color yellow itself. His victories and failures, bared for everyone to see.

Hal Jordan may be a founding member of the League, but Jaime certainly didn’t know near enough about him, not until that moment. Neither did the rest of the world. Regularly absent, the Green Lantern wasn’t often thought about, and knowledge on who he was, where he came from, whether or not there really was more than one, was a scarcity.

That wasn’t the case for long.

The Flash volunteered to go next. That was today, months after Hal’s daring move, and Jaime has been sitting here already for at least an hour as Barry described the source of his powers, his connection to the speedforce, what the speed force is, why it exists. He talked about some of his feats, some of his failures, and all the tricks and stunts he’s learned throughout the years.

Bart never volunteered, not out loud, not to the League or to the world. But when Jaime first walked in an hour ago, blending in with the crowd, and slipped into the back where Bart was pacing and asked why Bart was so nervous, it all spilled out.

“It can’t happen again,” Bart said, gripping his own arms with a haunted expression on his face, gnawing his lip. “But it will,” he continued. “Because history repeats itself. But I can...say something. I can…”

Standing there in the skeleton of the sound room, tubs of meticulously coiled wires and empty microphone stands scattered around, sheltered by padded walls and dim lights, Bart’s costume seemed dirty. When it isn’t being reflected by the sun or brightened by the smile on his own face, that’s what it always looks like. Dirty, ill-fitting -- wrong. But Jaime hadn’t made the observation until then.

This is not an advised course of action. The Impulse is exposing possibly vulnerable information--

That’s the point, Jaime thinks vehemently. Shut up, I’m trying to listen.

Jaime is sitting now in the front with Connor and Cassie on either side of him. The rest of the team and the League are scattered amongst the crowd, unwilling to risk their identities by close proximity to one another. He had spotted Artemis on the far right side of the audience on his way in.

He sees out of his peripheral the way his two teammates stiffen in shock. Barry had introduced Bart on his way off the stage, but Jaime doesn’t think Bart had warned anyone else about his stunt.

“Well, actually, I guess that’s not true anymore,” Bart continues, the spotlights trained on him reflecting harshly over the plastic of his goggles. “When the Flash told you that he can time travel, he didn’t completely explain what that means. Because time isn’t a line. It isn’t even a circle. It’s more like a...sphere. A timesphere. You can move down into the past, you can move up into the future, or you can move left. You can move right. You can move into the sphere, towards the center, or out, towards the surface. The past may be set in stone, but there’s not just one -- there are millions of other versions of the past out there, and there will be millions more, because right now, somewhere, what has already happened to you is still happening to you.”

The audience is dead silent. “Are you completely confused now?” Bart says, with something like a rueful grin. “That’s nothing. Think of right now. Think of that thing you’re going to do after you leave here today. Are you going shopping? Are you going to class? Picking up your baby from the daycare? What if you don’t? Because everything you decide to do is just that -- it’s a decision. And in a decision, there are choices, and with choices come possibilities. And that’s all the future is. A possibility. It hasn’t happened yet, and even the speed force doesn’t know what it’s going to be, so the best thing it can do is give you glimpses of what could be. What can happen, if you choose to go to the grocery store or you choose not to. Because maybe in this universe, you do decide to go pick up milk, but in the second that you decide that, another universe is created where you decide not to go pick up milk. In this universe, the Nazis lost World War II, but somewhere else one of the decisions that made them lose wasn’t made, and in that universe the Nazis won. That’s called the multiverse.”

Bart pauses where he’s standing, in a walking stance with his head angled to the ground and his arm half out like he’s holding something. “So when I say I’m from the future, it just means that I’m from one of many futures, and it’s not necessarily the future of this time. I come from the future where the Justice League lost. The Reach defeated the Justice League, and the world ended.

“No, I guess that’s not true, either. The Earth was still here, at least. But Central City wasn’t. The people weren’t. The government was gone. The Reach took over this planet completely, and there was no one left but runaways and slaves. That’s the world I grew up in. I grew up in chains, in a cage, with a collar around my neck.

“Imagine falling asleep every night on the ground. The ground is too hot and you don’t know why, and you’ve never seen winter except in stories. You can’t enjoy the stars because you can’t even picture them in your head, and even though you see aliens every day who seem one step away from disposing of you like any other meatbag, this place seems totally alone. But you like the nights better, because the day constantly burns at your skin, and you’re always breathing in dust except when you’re breathing in ash, and the only difference is that ash comes in chunks. Imagine a world where the ocean is poison. Acidic. Destroyed by your invaders so that even if you escape, you’ll never find food.

“Meanwhile, the elderly people you know, the ones in their 50’s, so incredibly old for our standards that they’re considered ancient relics, keep telling stories about flowers, and the taste of strawberries, pecans, and cookies. The soothing feel of hot tea after a cold day. They keep telling you stories you want to hear but at the same time really, really don’t. Because while they get to live in their fantasy and rot their body away every day from the knowledge that they’ll never see home again, you’re being poked and prodded at with needles because those unblinking, black-eyed aliens want something you have, your very DNA, as if you haven’t already given them enough.

“If you imagine it well enough, you might know a sliver of my life.

“In that life, I met a man who became my only friend and the savior of this entire world. No one will ever know it, and he will never know it himself. I’m never going to tell him, because that would mean there’s a world that he destroyed instead of saved, somewhere out there still, and I can’t do that to him.

“He built me a time machine.” This is a lie, Jaime knows, but if Bart says that he can build a time machine too, he’ll attract more villains than he's already going to. “Crazy, right? I bet most of you here right now didn’t even know time travel was possible until the Flash came up here and told you himself. But it is, and my friend gave one to me with the criteria that I would go back in time, to the moment when he killed the Flash, and stop him.

“I did, if you didn’t notice. We thought that would be enough. We thought that if the Flash stayed alive, the Justice League would have the chance to beat the Reach. It took more than that. But now, that entire world where I grew up? It’s gone.

“A few months ago I watched as my dad was born. Roughly 20 years from now, I’m going to be there watching the day that I’m born into a world where I get to be friends with the Flash himself, a hero that I never previously knew. I get to go to high school, something that didn’t even exist for me. I get to have friends that were probably never even born in the world where I used to live. Yesterday, I saw a man that I remembered watching die in my arms, and he was laughing.

“And here’s the thing: All of it is possible because of one decision, one event that shaped history. And most of you in this room will probably leave and one day forget what I’m saying, or maybe some of you won’t even believe me. But every night I go to bed and dream of a world that now remains as nothing more than a nightmare, and I’m the only one in this universe who will ever know it. There’s a relief and a sadness in that.

“Because I remember that world every time I eat a new food I’ve only heard about in stories. Every time I eat a strawberry, or an apple, or steal my cousin’s Chicken Whizzies. And I’ll never take any of it for granted. But you will.”

Jaime is shocked to find that Bart is starting to get blurry, and it isn’t because he’s vibrating. Jaime blinks and lets the tear roll down his cheeks because he doesn’t want Bart to see him rub at his eyes and draw his attention.

“I see it every single day. You don’t know what you have. Any time someone comes and sucks up to you, you accept it because of pride, and you listen and follow when that same someone turns around and blames someone else for lies, because of anger.

“It’s right in front of you, constantly. A man in a suit preaching to you that he’s going to make everything better and take all the pain away, because you don’t want to do it yourself. There are people taking power from you and hanging it over your head and you’re letting it happen because it’s easy, and what’s the worst it can do?

“I’m here to tell you that the worst that can happen, will happen. Sometimes it’s in our control. Sometimes it’s not. Always, we have a choice to fight against that worst case scenario, or give up and let it happen.

“People tell me that their thoughts are only their opinions, and opinions can’t harm anyone. But are your opinions really your opinions, or the opinions of someone else? We’re impacted by what people say around us, and the more they say it, the more we remember, the more we repeat instead of question, the closer we become to megaphones than individuals. We let the rhetoric we hear now dictate what we’re willing to listen to in the future. It’s called normalization. If we give in even a little, compromise even a little, normalize what our leaders can get away with, we normalize those actions for the future. Every good compromise means giving a little ground, but when you keep giving ground, that isn’t compromise -- that’s apathy. That’s you not willing to stand up for what you believe because you’re letting others tell you what you should believe, and you’re following them when they say to just let them have what they want.

“Complacency is a disease. One that gave the Reach a world to exploit that wasn’t theirs, that killed you and sacrificed your children. You don’t remember it, and that’s the most dangerous part. The people who remember World War II are the ones who don’t want war. The ones who don’t are the ones who glorify it. So what will this become? A horrifying reminder that we’re not invincible, or a claim of pride that we are? Without knowing first hand what almost happened, the next time a leader tells us to trust them, will we believe them without question because we stopped anything bad from happening last time? Did we really learn nothing at all?

“Be the change you want to see. It’s a cliche phrase, but my reality is this: If you don’t decide to be that change now, someone else will decide for you. Eventually, you won’t have a choice, and you’ll spend your last days regretting that you never saw reality for how real it can be.

“My childhood gives me nightmares, but the worst thing I can imagine is forgetting it, because then I just might let it happen again.”

The room is so still that Jaime can’t even hear a cough, and Cassie’s elbow has already hit him twice in her attempts to unobtrusively wipe at her own eyes. Jaime pats at his cheeks because if he rubs at them, his nose and eyes will get too red to hide when he sees Bart later.

“Thank you,” Bart says, and walks off. Slowly, so everyone can see him, his head held high, and his steps only falter when Jaime stands up and starts clapping. He’s joined by Cassie and Connor and the whole front row and the second row and then the whole audience, but he doesn’t turn back around.

The clapping continues even as the lights turn back on.

Jaime leaves his friends behind as he hops onto the side of the stage while the cameras turn off and people start rising from their seats. He races behind the curtains, where Bart is standing stiff, Barry’s hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not mad?” Bart is saying, quietly. Barry’s eyes are the saddest Jaime has ever seen them, shadowed in pain and dark with empathy, his skin pale with stress. “We did this so they’ll trust us… I’m telling them not to.”

“You’re telling them not to be complacent towards their leaders, and you’re no one’s leader,” Barry responds, just as quietly. He kneels and grips Bart’s shoulders. “None of us are. We’re symbols of hope. We can have fans without followers. We give smiles instead of political speeches for a reason -- and no, I wouldn’t say that was a political speech. Inspirational, if anything.” He smiles then, small, as if a too-wide one would scare Bart off. “I’m so proud of you.”

So is Jaime, which is why he has a hard time waiting for Barry to back away before he barrels right into Bart’s back. His arms come up to wrap around his friend in a death grip, to the point that he doesn’t think Bart would be able to turn around and hug him back.

The Impulse’s heart rate is dangerously elevated.

I’m just impressed his heart is still beating at all, Jaime thinks. That must have been terrifying.

He can feel Bart shaking under him, and when he loosens his grip to take a step back and finally look at him, Bart takes advantage of the release to turn around and bury his face in Jaime’s collarbone.

The Impulse is close to vulnerable areas of the human--

“He’s not a vampire,” Jaime mutters, annoyed, and startles when he feels the shaking increase. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s because Bart is laughing.

“I don’t even want to know the context for that,” he says, and Jaime feels his face heat up. He wonders how Bart could be laughing right now, but it’s probably just nerves. Once Bart starts laughing, it doesn’t seem like he’s able to stop, but he still clutches Jaime close.

Jaime rubs circles on his friend’s back as he calms down. “I’m so moded right now,” Bart whispers. Jaime only barely catches it.

“Would you be able to laugh if you were moded?” he wonders out loud. “Or would it just be an evil cackle? Like Dick’s old Robin cackle?”

“Dick’s… Robin cackle?” Bart wants to know, and Jaime cranes his neck away from him dramatically.

“I can’t believe Wally hasn’t shown you the videos,” he exclaims. “I know what we’re doing today.”

Bart grins up at him. It’s as much tentative as it is bright.

They’re watching Dick pour a bucket of syrup all over Wally’s hair in an old Cave video on Jaime’s TV when Bart’s phone starts ringing. Bart rejects the call without looking at the caller ID.

When Jaime raises an eyebrow, Bart shrugs sheepishly. “It’s BC. She, uh, I think she wants me to go in for counselling? Or something?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Jaime says neutrally. He continues before Bart can get offended. “Everyone on the team has already gone at least once. She wants to make it a routine thing, but our schedules are so screwed up that anything routine is a pipedream.”

“I’ve lived this long without therapy,” Bart comments.

“Therapy isn’t just for when something’s wrong with you,” Jaime points out. “Sometimes it’s nice to just have someone to talk to, who won’t judge or repeat anything you say.”

Bart shoots him a look that suggests Jaime is an idiot. It’s a dramatic move, considering it means twisting completely around on his perch sprawled out over the bed, leaning up against Jaime’s shoulder, so that he can see his face. “That’s what you’re for.”

“Still not a therapist.”

Bart sighs with his whole body. He deflates like a popped balloon. “Her office creeps me out.”

“It’s four walls, a desk, and a couch.”

“She creeps me out.”

Jaime stares at him.

“I just don’t want to, okay?” Bart pleads.

Jaime gives it a moment, watching the way Bart chews at his lip anxiously. “Okay,” he agrees finally.

Bart pushes away from his shoulder abruptly to look him properly in the face. “Okay?” he echoes.

“Yup.”

“Just like that? You’re not going to force me?”

“I’m your friend, not your mom.”

“My mom’s dead, so you can’t be her anyway.”

But Jaime isn’t going to settle for pessimistic comments today of all days. “Actually, I’m pretty sure she’s somewhere out there, crying for a diaper change.”

Bart slumps again. “Smart-ass.”

“The scarab has taught me well.”

Bart snorts.

They sit there in silence for a few more extended minutes, but then Bart slowly leans back into Jaime’s side. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

It was never specified, but implied. Jaime doesn’t think Bart has even ever gone to the rest of the team’s houses -- then again, more and more of them are moving into the Cave, so maybe that’s not the greatest method of judgement. “I better be. Do you realise how much money I’ve sacrificed in snacks that I never get to eat?”

Bart sticks his tongue out and steals Jaime’s popcorn, just to spite him.

Sometimes, Jaime wonders how that’s possible. How can Bart, who just admitted in front of the world that he still sees the Reach in front of him most nights, look at Blue Beetle and see a friend instead of a foe? He doesn’t know, and there’s a cowardly part of him that doesn’t want to ask, in case somehow bringing up the question will make Bart finally remember what Jaime did to him. “You’re insane,” Jaime says.

“I know,” Bart says casually, dismissing the comment, but Jaime shakes his head.

“No, I mean it,” he says, and waits for Bart to give him his full attention. “You’re insane and you’re...amazing. You know that, right? You’re amazing.” Bart doesn’t answer, he just looks down at his feet. “I’m glad you’re my best friend.”

Bart beams up at him now, so quickly Jaime is fascinated by his apparent inability to get whiplash, all rosy cheeks and windswept hair and buttery lips. He flops down into Jaime’s lap as TV-Wally hangs TV-Dick from a wall hanger by his costume.

“Me too.”

#i realize that bart isn't quite that eloquent in any canon #but this is my canon so suck it #i needed a way to vent a year ago and wrote this and just found it today #i think all my thoughts and feelings about this were well enough explained in the text #you don't need an author's note #i might post this on ao3 #bart allen #jaime reyes #fanfic #finished #complete #bluepulse #platonic bluepulse #broship #young justice #yj #the reach #bart and barry #barry allen #i hope you liked this!#i'm nervous about posting it #it was another one of those things that was never supposed to see the light of day #maybe i should start posting all the different stuff i have tucked away in my files #because there's a lot of it #impulse #blue beetle #oh also #jaime definitely gets bart to go to therapy later #he doesn't just leave it there #but he knows that he has to take it slow

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enbysaurus-wrex · 6 years

Text

All-American Boy chapter 2

Chapter 2

And I cast a spell over the west to make you think of me the same way I think of you.

-Fall Out Boy, Bang the Doldrums

Cas:

Trying his best not to wake the sleeping man, Cas and Gabe unloaded the plastic totes and put them in the corner of the room. Cas figured he could stack them on top of the wardrobe once they were empty. After everything was off the cart, Cas walked with Gabe to return it so another student could use it.

“Your roommate’s pretty dreamy,” Gabe commented, nonchalantly.

Gabe was the only person in the world, other than a handful of people he used to hang out with when he was with his ex, who knew he was gay.

Cas shrugged. “I’m not here to get laid, Gabe. I’m here to get an education. You know I want to be a vet someday. And Birchwood has a fantastic pre-veterinary program. I’m not gonna blow it over some crush.”

Gabe quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have a crush on him already?”

Cas scoffed. “No, of course not,” he lied. “I’m just saying. Even if it develops into a crush I’m not going to pursue anything. Besides, he’s probably straight.”

“What makes you say that?”

Cas shrugged. “Most guys are.”

Gabe put his hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Maybe he’ll surprise you,” he offered, squeezing reassuringly. “Hey, kiddo, I gotta get back to the office. You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

The ‘office’ was Gabriel’s candy store. Much to their mother’s dismay, Cas’s older brother used his business degree to open a candy store at Water Tower Place in Chicago. Apparently owning a sweet shop at a mall wasn’t ‘respectable’ and Gabriel became the family embarrassment… Well, after Castiel that was.

Of course, Alfie was still in middle school but had dreams of becoming a teacher. At a respectable Lutheran private school, of course. Anna was in seminary school, hoping to become a pastor, which was enough of a scandal in the Novak household since women were not permitted to become church leaders under the teachings of Marian Luther. Although, that was rapidly changing, many in Pontiac were still old fashioned like that. Nick was the vice president of a company called Roman Enterprises. At only thirty-two, he was the youngest VP in company history. Richard Roman, or Dick as he prefered to be called, was a complete and total monster. On top of screwing over the working and middle classes at every opportunity, he was also the biggest campaign contributor to Donald Trump in 2016. Hence, why Nick was called ‘Lucifer.’ It also helped that Nick and Dick rhymed.

Uriel bragged about the missions trips he took to India and how he was giving children there a ‘Bible based education.’ Every time he talked about how many children came to know Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior, Cas couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Not only was the church erasing these children’s cultural gods, they also weren’t offering them a real education. One that would help them later in life. Cas desperately hoped his brother’s ministry cared just as much about what happened to these kids here on Earth as they did about their souls going to a supposed afterlife.

And finally, Zach was a movie director specializing in films of the spiritual nature. Currently, he was working on making yet another Karen Kingsbury novel into a two hour piece of tooth rotting garbage. Oh, how his mother loved those books. She was extra proud of her eldest son. She was especially drawn towards those who used their creative nature to ‘please the Lord’ hence why she was currently dating the music director of their church.

“If you want me to stay a couple more hours, grab some lunch, I can,” Gabe offered when Cas didn’t say anything.

“No,” Cas shook his head. “It’s a Saturday. I know you need to get back.” He hugged his brother, putting his chin on the shorter man’s head. “Thanks for all your help, Gabe.”

“No sweat, Cassie,” Gabe said, pulling back from the hug. “Just… Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” Cas promised.

Back in his room, Cas began unpacking the totes as quietly as possible. He put his clothes in the wardrobe/dresser and filled the desk with school supplies. He put his shower caddy near the door to the bathroom suite that was between their room and the room next door. At Norman, there was only four students to a bathroom. Each room also had a sink so that students wouldn’t take up the bathroom just to brush their teeth. It was much better than the bathrooms that were shared by the whole floor at Lawrence Complex. He put his extra toiletries, miscellaneous items, and snacks in the end table by the bed and made his twin XL. Why college beds were longer than standard, Cas would never understand. He sat down at the desk and opened his laptop but was distracted by the sun shining from the window to his right. If he could just put the desk on the wall near the door and move his wardrobe/dresser combo to where the desk was near the door to the restroom it would fix the problem.

Forgetting his roommate was still asleep he began pushing his desk towards its destination. It made a nails-on-a-chalkboard noise as it scraped across the ugly tile, and only then did Cas remember the gorgeous man sleeping in the next bed.

“Sorry,” Cas said with a wince. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just… I prefer the desk over here, otherwise the sun is in my eyes and-”

“You must be Jimmy,” the boy said, sitting up. He stretched his arms above his head and Cas was once again rewarded with a flash of stomach. His mouth basically watered at the sight of defined, yet soft abs.

“Uh… Actually, I prefer to go by Cas,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry. He swallowed and tried to look away, but found he couldn’t.

“Cas? Is that a middle name or something?” the boy asked, staring at Cas as if he were appraising him.

“Yeah,” Cas answered, feeling shy. “It’s short for Castiel.”

The boy swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up. “The name’s Dean,” he said, extending his hand for Cas to shake. Castiel shook his hand. It was callused and warm. “I take it you’re a freshman,” Dean said, gesturing towards the purple Boyd Hall lanyard Cas was wearing around his neck. “You guys all do that your first semester.”

Cas looked down at Dean’s jeans and noticed a Batman lanyard hanging out of his pocket. “I see you decided not to use the lanyard that came with our key,” he observed and Dean huffed a laugh.

“Nah, stopped doing that second semester last year. It kinda paints a target on your back as ‘fresh meat,’” he explained. “Buy your own lanyard, don’t wear it around your neck, and keep your keycard in your wallet instead of attached to your lanyard. It’s much less dorky when you take it out to pay for meals and stuff.”

“So the card that lets us into our hall is also our meal card?” Cas asked since Charlie hadn’t explained how the keycards worked yet. They were supposed to have a freshman meeting the following morning at ten.

Dean nodded. “Yep. It also gets us into Norman after midnight and doubles as a library card and laundry card if you have Bulldog Cash. Multi-purpose.” His roommate flashed him a charming smile and Cas almost swooned.

“Cool,” Cas said, removing his lanyard from around his neck and slipping it into his pocket as Dean had. “So are you a sophomore?”

“Yep. Engineering student. You?”

“Pre-vet,” Cas said and Dean nodded.

“I guess we’ll both be spending a lot of time in the science building then,” the man observed.

“I suppose. I… I took a tour when I got accepted but I don’t quite remember where everything’s at,” Cas admitted.

“Basically, everything down one of three streets. The main stretch, Michelangelo Boulevard, the one with the big-ass statue of the university's founders, is where most colleges are located, like the architecture building and Teachers’ College, as well as Birtch Library and a few other buildings. Lakeside Avenue and University Way are the other two main streets. But, uh, you’ll get the hang of it,” Dean explained, charming smile never leaving his lips.

Cas couldn’t help but look down at the man’s plush mouth, licking his own lips as he did so. “I suppose I will. I’m just nervous I guess,” Cas said, looking up to meet the man’s bright green eyes.

Dean nodded, eyes trailing down to Cas’s lips as well. Or was that just Cas’s imagination? “Yeah, it gets easier after the first week or two… There’s also the Quad. That’s where the science building and the museum are located. Near that giant-ass clock tower.”

“So, just go towards the tower and I’ll be fine?” Cas asked, still a bit nervous about finding his way to class on Monday.

Dean nodded. “Basically.” He looked at the alarm clock by his bed, making note of the time. “Oh shit is it two o’clock already? Lunch ends at three. Wanna get some with me…? Uh, that is if you haven’t already eaten.”

Cas shook his head. “No, I’ve been unpacking for a couple of hours. I completely lost track of time," he said sheepishly.

Dean looked around Cas’s side of the room. “Yeah, that side has less room because of the bathroom and the sink. Sorry about that… You need help moving your desk?”

Cas nodded and pointed towards the wardrobe combo. “I want to switch it with my wardrobe so I’m not distracted by the sun.”

“No problem,” Dean said, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel and offering him another one of those million dollar smiles.

Dean showed him the fare Norman Complex had to offer. There was a salad bar, a grill, a pan pizza oven, a sandwich station, a ‘southern comfort food’ area and a stir-fry station as well as a pastry station with enticing looking desserts. There was also an al-la-carte section where students could buy foods they could bring back to their rooms. Every eating area had one. You could also find toiletries in this area like shampoo and soap, and to Cas's surprise, condoms.

“I see they have lot of healthier options as well,” Cas said, getting in line for the stir-fry.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, between that, all the walking, and the recplex, it’s real easy to avoid the freshman fifteen if you want to… On the other hand, pie for every meal doesn’t exactly help that,” he said, looking longingly at the pastry station. “You get your fried veggies, I’m gonna go grab a burger,” Dean said, heading towards the grill.

Cas waited for his stir-fry, noting that the price took up almost all his allotted eight dollars, and got an iced tear from the soda station. He then went to pay for his food. Since he didn’t have his meal card yet, he used one of the cupons Charlie gave out in the welcome packet.

Meal paid for, he found Dean sitting in the middle of the cafeteria next to none none other than his RA and another boy Cas didn’t recognize.

Cas sat down next to Dean and smiled at Charlie.

“Hey, Cas,” she said putting down her sandwich. “You settling in okay?”

“Yes, I am,” Cas said, picking his soy sauce packet and opening the corner. “Dean has been very helpful. I’m rather lucky to have an upperclassman as a roommate.”

“Damn right you are,” Dean said, taking a big bite of his cheeseburger. “Cas, this is Garth. He also lives on our floor and is one of my best friends. He’s a creative writing major.” Dean gestured towards the skinny guy sitting across from him eating what appeared to be meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

“Nice to meet you, Cas,” the brown-haired boy said. “Is that short for Casey or somethin’?”

“Uh, no. It’s short for my middle name, Castiel. My real name is James, but I’ve never gone by it,” Cas admitted shyly as he snapped open his chopsticks.

“Nah, you don’t exactly look like a Jim,” Garth said, taking another bite of buttery looking mashed potatoes.

“Thanks?” Cas said as he began to pluck at his rice and veggies. He’d gone with the shrimp, which took a little longer to cook, but after one bite he realized it was totally worth the wait. He let out a groan and he chewed.

“Wow,” Dean said with a smirk. “Pornagraphic, Cas.”

Cas blushed. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect the food here to be so… Good.”

“Best in the state,” Dean replied, popping a greasy looking fry in his mouth.

Cas nodded, continuing to eat his surprisingly good food.

“So, what’s your major, Cas?” Charlie asked.

“Pre-vet. I… I just really love animals.”

Charlie looked at Dean, excitement in her eyes. “Your brother would be excited to hear that,” she said and Dean huffed a laugh.

“Uh, no. He couldn’t do the dissections at school,” he said, shaking his head. “Went vegan shortly after freshman bio. Poor guy. Threw all hope of becoming a vet out the window.”

Cas smirked. “Yeah, that happens to a lot of kids. At least he went vegan for the right reasons, I suppose. So many people give up meat as some sort of fad, but your brother seems to be in it for the animals, which I respect.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, taking another bite of his burger. “He’s a hippie weirdo but he’s my hippie weirdo.”

Cas couldn’t help but look at the man beside him with fondness. He really seemed to care about his little brother, much as he tried to hide the affection.

“I’m a computer science major myself,” Charlie said, forking at the bits of her sandwich that fell out the back. “With a minor in digital media. If I don’t get an IT job somewhere I could always work as a social media rep or a web designer or something.”

“So, tell me about yourself, Cas,” Garth said, pushing his finished tray away and taking a long drag from his soda.

“Uh, there’s not much to tell really,” Cas muttered into his food. He didn’t exactly want to subject his new friends to his family drama just yet. “I’m just a kid from Pontiac.”

“I’m from Topeka,” Charlie said. “Dean’s also from Kansas, small town called Lebanon.”

“Originally from Lawrence, the city not the dorm, but my dad moved away after my mom died. Guess he couldn’t stand to live in the same house anymore, you know?” Dean shared.

Cas’s stomach felt suddenly queasy. “I am so sorry, Dean,” he said with genuine sympathy. His parents sucked, but at least they were still alive.

Dean shrugged as he polished off his fries. “No big deal. I was really little so…” the man trailed off, picking up his fork to start on the slice of apple pie he'd given in and gotten.

“From Lebanon as well,” Garth said. “Not a very big town, just about the only thing there is Singer’s Auto. I worked there in high school but always wanted something more. Got a full ride to Birchwood and never looked back.”

“Lucky geniuses here,” he said, gesturing to Garth and Charlie, “received academic scholarships. Charlie ain’t on a full ride, which is part of the reason she took up the RA job. I’m here for soccer,” the man explained.

Cas frowned down at his almost finished plate. “I didn’t receive a scholarship or anything like that. This was just one of many state schools I got accepted to. Fell in love with the campus after I took a tour. It really is very pretty here.”

Dean put his hand on his shoulder. “No need to feel embarrassed just because you aren’t here on scholarship, man. There’s no shame in paying your own way.”

Cas smiled softly before taking a sip of his tea. “Thank you, Dean,” he said after a moment.

Dean:

That evening, Dean tried to convince Cas to join him at Kevin’s apartment for a small get together, but after learning that there’d be alcohol there, the guy decided he was just gonna stay in and play some video games. Dean respected his decision, of course. He knew pre-med and pre-vet majors would get kicked out of their program if caught drinking under twenty-one and didn’t want Cas to do anything he felt uncomfortable with, especially his first week.

Kevin and Charlie were both juniors, whereas Dean and Garth were sophomores. Other than the four of them, the only other people at the ‘party’ were Channing, Kevin’s long-term girlfriend, and Gilda, Charlie’s new gf. They’d met in the RA program and had only been dating a month. They had to come in a few weeks early for training, which Dean did not envy them for. But, hey, at least they got paid.

Dean was a few beers in when Charlie sat down next to him on the couch.

“So… Your new roommate is cute,” said the lesbian.

“Didn’t know you swung that way, Bradburry,” Dean said with a chuckle, taking a sip of his beer. Thankfully, Channing was twenty-one now and could legally purchase alcohol for them all. Dean didn’t really trust the fake IDs Charlie made them all last year.

Charlie giggled. “Well, he’s cute for a guy,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. She was the only one who knew Dean’s secret.

“I guess,” Dean said, leaning back. He was attempting to pay attention the the episode of Rick and Morty they were all watching but the show was just a little too quick paced for how drunk he was getting. Not to mention everyone was talking over it.

“You gonna go for it?” she asked and Dean scoffed.

“Nah, we both know that boy’s probably straight. I’m tired of crushing on straight guys, for one,” he said as quietly as he could, so as not to have the rest of his friends overhear. “And even if he did go for other guys, he probably wouldn’t be okay with me having been with women. Very few gay men actually want to date a guy like me. And considering I’m still not out about it, that adds a whole new set of problems to potential relationships...”

Charlie looked at him with sympathy. “You don’t know that. Gilda’s bi, and I have no problems with it. The LGBT community is getting more and more inclusive each day, Dean. Bi visibility is becoming less and less of an issue because people like her are speaking out about it. You should come to a Prism meeting. It’ll help you come out of your shell.”

Charlie had been trying to get him to come to the campus LGBTQIA+ alliance, Prism, ever since his first semester.

Dean shook his head. “I’m not ready for that, Charles. Told you last time you asked.”

Charlie wrinkled her nose at the offending nickname. “You did, but I thought you might want to give a chance. It’s been a whole summer since I’ve asked.”

Dean took another sip of his beer. “I’ll think about it,” he promised.

Dean spent all of Sunday - after sleeping in and nursing his hangover of course - showing Cas around campus. He took him through all the important buildings, showing him the library, the science building, and all the eating areas. They even stopped for lunch at the Student Center he picked up some Jack in the Box, which they could get with their meal plan. Other than that, the student center had a salad bar and a Tropical Smoothie. Cas got himself a sandwich and a smoothie instead of a deep fried taco like Dean.

After that, Dean took him through the Quad, even showing him the free art museum. On their way out, they picked up a few posters a tent was selling, since Cas’s side of the room was rather vacant of art. Dean promised him he’d show him the ‘Villa’ on Friday. It was basically this place off campus with a shit ton of restaurants, stores, and bars. It was within walking distance to campus and was a major weekend hangout for most students. That, and Friday Nite Live, a cheesy ‘party’ put on by the student association each and every Friday. It was themed and offered a wide array of activities and crafts. It was mostly for freshman, but even upperclassmen stopped by before hitting the bars to get a slice of free pizza.

“Let me see your schedule,” Dean said, and Cas fumbled to pull it up on his phone. “Ugh, you got running at eight Monday, Wednesday, Friday?” he said, making a face at Cas’s choice of PE class. “I don’t have to take phys ed since I’m in a sport, thank god.”

Cas frowned at him. “I like running,” he said defensively. “I was on cross country in high school.”

Dean chuckled. “Yet another thing you have in common with my baby brother.”

Cas crossed his arms, looking like a petulant child. It was kinda cute if Dean was being completely honest. “Well, Sam sounds like a wonderful young man, if you ask me.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “That he is,” he agreed.

Cas:

Cas found his way to the PE building next to the recplex at eight in the morning the following day. The air was damp and dewy and a bit muggy, as was common in late August. He walked into the building and found himself at an ancient indoor track, much more outdated than the track at the recplex Dean showed him yesterday.

A few other kids were seated at the bleachers so he sat down to join them until the instructor showed up. Since it was their first day they only went a mile, much to Cas’s disappointment. But at least they went outside to do it. They wouldn’t actually be using the indoor track unless the weather was bad.

After that he had an hour break, which he specifically scheduled so he could shower and eat breakfast, and then he had his first bio class at ten. At eleven he had French, and then at noon he’d scheduled lunch, which Dean teased him for since all the dining areas would be extra busy that hour. He called it ‘typically freshman.’ Cas was only slightly disappointed he wouldn’t be able to dine with Dean during the week. At one Cas had speech class, which met for lab Mondays and Wednesday and lecture on Fridays. And then Cas was done for the day. Dean’s last class was over at three so Cas went back to his room to wait for him, popping in Dragon Age Inquisition to pass the time. The first week was syllabus week, so he didn’t have any homework yet.

He and Dean went to the Globe, a cafeteria named after Shakespeare's theater, for dinner. It had a Taco Bell, Quiznos, and a Burger King as well as yet another salad station and more stir-fry. Cas got himself a sandwich while Dean ordered Taco Bell.

That evening, the two of them played Super Smash Bros with Charlie and Garth. It was probably the most fun Cas had ever had in his entire life. It wasn’t as if he had many friends growing up.

On Tuesdays he had his lab for French since it was a four day a week class, and his two Tuesday/Thursday classes, Theatre and Calc. With all the core classes he was required to take, he had a pretty full semester this year at nineteen credit hours (French was worth four).

That evening he, Dean, and Charlie ate at the most popular cafeteria on Campus, Westwood. It was the only all-girls dorm on Campus and hosted the campus sororities. It had a flat top grill for stir-fry instead of woks like the other eating places had as well as a full side brick oven for pizza, spinning salads instead of a salad bar, comfort food, pasta, and sandwiches. Once a week they did breakfast for dinner (although he was told that was always packed) and even had a mini-Starbucks. The only eating places he hadn't tried yet were a few grab-and go al-la-carte places, Lawrence's shitty cafeteria, and the buffett at Norman, which he was skeptical of because he found those to be germy.

Of course, the line for the stir-fry was long af, but Cas didn’t mind. It reminded him of hibachi, he way the chefs tossed his veggies and beef around on the stove. He even rewarded himself with a slice of chocolate cake, promising to go for an extra run that week to burn it off.

He and Dean hung out every single night, which was good because he knew it would be especially hard for him to live with someone he didn’t get along with. Thankfully, the pair of them got along great. It was Friday after class when Dean walked in. Cas paused his game to greet the man.

“How was class?” he asked, moving the controller to the floor.

“You know, first week stuff. No homework yet, so that’s good. Well, aside from reading chapter one of damn every textbook, but who the hell reads the chapters if they’re just gonna go over them in class?”

Cas frowned. “The books are so expensive. Seems like a waste not to read them.”

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “So, what, you gonna spend all weekend reading?”

“No,” Cas said, standing up to stretch. “I was planning on doing that Sunday afternoon since it won’t be that time consuming.”

“Okay, good,” Dean said, smiling shyly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I… I was kinda hoping you’d come LARPING with us.”

To be continued...

http://archiveofourown.org/works/13196649/chapters/30538008

#all-american boy #chapter 2 #destiel #fanfiction #fanfic #college au #university au #AO3 #carasauruswrex

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cassandraclare · 7 years

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Lord of Shadows playlist

tmi-city-of-bones15-blog said:Hey Cassie, I was wondering if you have a Playlist for each book that you write? Or if you have something to inspire you on those moments?

I do! You can find old ones on this tumblr, and here is the one for Lord of Shadows! (Sometimes people complain the songs aren’t new — I tend to mix up old and new songs, and remember, the book was written last year!)

Lord of Shadows

Six Blade Knife, Dire Straits

Your six blade knife can do anything for you Anything you want it to One blade for breaking my heart One blade for tearing me apart Your six blade knife can do anything for you

Fuck It And Whatever, The Echo-Friendly

We are sleeping in a rainstorm With no lightning rod So please remember my love As we lie in the arms of an angry vengeful God And I know we can’t stay together But I’ll keep you safe forever And I know that sounds heavy But fuck it and whatever

Kill Your Heroes AWOL NATION

Well I met an old man dying on a train. No more destination, no more pain. Well he said one thing, before I graduate "Never let your fear decide your fate.”

I say kill your heroes and fly, fly, baby don't cry. No need to worry 'cause, everybody will die. Every day we just go, go, baby don't go. Don't you worry we love you more than you know.

Blood in the Cut, K. Flay

Met back up with the boy I love Cried on the streets of San Francisco I don’t have an agenda All I do is pretend to be ok so my friends Can’t see my heart in the blender Lately, I’ve been killing all my time Reading through your messages my favorite way to die Take my head and kick it in Break some bread for all my sins Say a word, do it soon It’s too quiet in this room

Sweet Disaster — Dreamers

Some nights feel like every night This one feels brand new Only got bad things on my mind When I'm with you

Tell me that you need me on the floor Passed out in your dirty clothes Ask me what the hell I'm looking for Like you don't know

Shatter in the Night — Vesperteen

Laying in the yard and we worship the stars

And I blow your mind while you kiss my scars.

We rise and we fall. We’re floating

And all our time’s revolving around what we see as true

But it’s breaking me and it’s breaking you

Every Other Weekend — Annie Rapid (always makes me think of Livvy & Ty)

But we are one

For you are here

Inside a place so far away

My brother always near

It's every other weekend

And it's in the messages they send

Broken promises will mend

For all these things we can't count on

Will one day make us grow up strong

No Mermaid — Sinead Lohan

we went down to the edge of the water you were afraid to go in you said there might be sharks out there in the ocean and i said i'm only going for a swim i was swimming around in a circle i wasn't always in view you said we might get into red flag danger and i am alone when i'm not with you but i am no mermaid and i am no fisherman's slave i am no mermaid i keep my head above the waves

Breaking Free — Night Riots

You're not my savior, just someone I used to see I am broken Something's wrong inside of me I feel violent Like I'm dying I feel broken Maybe I'm just breaking free

These Taming Blues — Joe Tex

Is it ever gonna not be so hard to see you around? Am I really really really really gonna have to leave town?

I mean I called upon a bunch of angels calling angels ain't you supposed to come and take away these blues?

All five kinds of rains

All nine kinds of thunder and

Eighteen white horses who will not ever come to me!

Don't plant your feet, love, in that garden of blame.

Don't break me no more, love.

I'm already tame.

Home — American Authors

I've got these letters tattooed on my arm That remind me each second of where I come from And the long hard road to get me back home

I'm not trying to part the ocean waves I'm not trying to overthrow the throne I'm just trying to find a way to make it back home

In Our Bedroom After the War — Stars

Wake up! Say good morning to that sleepy person lying next to you If there's no one there, then there's no one there, but at least the war is over It's us – yes, we're back again, here to see you through, 'til the days end And if the night comes, and the night will come, well at least the war is over

Meet me in the Woods — Lord Huron

How long, baby, have I been away? Oh, it feels like ages though you say it's only days There ain't language for the things I've seen, yeah And the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams

Anna Lee — firekid

Sinking sand When I sleep I see her ghost Siren's hand pulling me six feet below Pyramid Wasted dreams Built it for two Inherited her color scheme Now it's my tomb

#tda #playlist #the dark artifices #lord of shadows

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fangirl-of-everything-epic-blog · 7 years

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Liplock Jinx

Title: The Lip-Lock Jinx Author: Cassis Luna Rating: PG-13 Warning/s: spoilers up to DH, EWE, profanity Word Count: 20,555 Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. No money is being made out of this. Summary: The Lip-Lock Jinx, a jinx that renders the victim mute that can only be undone in two ways: if the caster reverses the spell on the victim, or if the victim serves the purpose of the jinx and kisses the person that they desire. It's just Harry's luck that he gets jinxed by Ginny Weasley and that he's in love with Draco Malfoy. Author's Notes: AFTER SIX MONTHS ;A; Finally finished this! I really hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed slavedriving over it XD And so sorry about the delay of the next chapter of White Lies :( Exams are over now so hopefully I'll get more writing time :) Stay tuned to my profile for updates! Anyway, enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think! And translations! :D Thank you very much! * FRENCH TRANSLATION by Daggry /s/9322149/1/ * SPANISH TRANSLATION by Adigium21 /s/9930725/1/ (Just add fanfiction dot net in front! :D) The Lip-Lock Jinx Harry figured that it was Ginny's that had hit him and knocked him off his broom. Ginny had always been good with hexes, was Harry's first thought two minutes later as he lay sprawled on the ground of the Quidditch pitch. His second thought was shit, ow, my bloody arm. Knew I shouldn't have agreed to practice today with these wankers, was his third. Ron, sometimes I hate your sister would have been his fourth had the Gryffindor Quidditch Team not suddenly flocked around him and proceeded to drag him towards the Hospital Wing in panic that they had done permanent damage to the Savior of the Wizarding World. What, so now you're worried about me? Shoulda thought that one when you lot were firing jinxes at me while I was twenty-feet in the air, thought Harry sullenly. Ginny tightened her grip on his shoulder (Ow.) as if sensing his thoughts and grinned at him, eyes shining with glee. "You'll be all right, Harry," she said cheerily. Throughout the pain that he and his arm felt at being manhandled by a bunch of burly fifth and seventh years, Harry glared at her which simply made Ginny's smile widen, as if she was even relishing the fact that she had just jinxed him mute. Your brother and I are going to talk about this, you realize, Harry thought grumpily as his vision started to swirl. He barely had time to mouth a very rude "Fuck you" at her before the pain consumed him and he lost all consciousness, dreaming of Skele-Gro and jinxing Ginny Weasley's hair into snakes for a month. When he woke up, it was to the white ceiling of the Hospital Wing. He and the white ceiling of the Hospital Wing had grown to have a very loving relationship with each other. Harry visited often (more often then he liked, if he was to be honest) and the white ceiling kept him company whenever he'd be confined and gave him comfort by… well… alright , so the white ceiling wasn't very comforting. Harry appreciated its efforts though. "Mister Potter, how nice of you to join us," said Madame Pomfrey with amusement as she neared him with two glasses and a bottle of questionable liquid. Harry opened his mouth to say hi then remembered right, shite, he couldn't. He settled for looking at the bottle suspiciously instead. Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. "It's not Skele-Gro, dear. You'll find that your elbow and wrist are perfectly aligned with your lower arm, though I suggest not moving it yet," she added, as Harry had raised it experimentally and was now sporting a very pained expression. "Honestly, one would think that after all the bones you've broken, you would have gotten used to it by now," tutted Madame Pomfrey as she poured the contents of the bottle evenly into the two glasses. She gave one to Harry and the other, she gave to the person lying down on the bed beside his. Harry was startled, realizing for the first time that someone else was in the infirmary, but his surprise did not compare to the blood-chilling shockhe felt when he saw just who it was. Draco Malfoy. The one who got him in this whole mess. Well, okay, not really. It was really Ginny's entire fault. After all, it wasn't like Draco had any idea… Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry's jaw-dropped expression and merely nodded his greeting quietly, before ignoring him completely and turning to the arduous task of swallowing a glass of medicinal potion that probably included all sorts of animal tongues. For a moment, Harry was filled with a sense of longing and maybe even anger because the old Draco would have insulted him on the spot without a second thought. He didn't know if he was angry at Draco or at the world in general for having made him that way. Draco wouldn't have… just sat there, looking sullenly at the empty glass. "Your friends have kindly informed me of your predicament, Mister Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, shaking him out of his stupor. She clucked her tongue in disapproval. "Lip-Lock Jinx. What you kids are coming up with these days." Draco raised his head in interest but otherwise didn't look at Harry, who flushed excessively. "You realize that I can't do much for you," Madame Pomfrey continued. "The Lip-Lock Jinx can only be removed by the caster, or if you fulfill the requirements expected of you." Here, her lips curled up slightly in amusement. Harry wanted the floor to eat him. Oh, he knew of the requirements. The Lip-Lock Jinx was a jinx that rendered the victim mute, until he or she kissed the person they desired. It was a common prank in parties, if one was desperate for either a snogging show or a slapping one. It had recently grown to be quite popular in Hogwarts, as started by the eight years. Seamus Finnigan, in particular. The professors had tried to stop it by forcing the casters to take off the spells, but most of the time, the victims themselves refused to tell who cast it on them for the sake of pride. The last one who told was called a pansy by the rest of her house. And consequently the rest of the whole student body. There circulated a rumor that her 'heart's desire' was actually Draco Malfoy, and Harry knew it was awful of him to be glad that the girl didn't go up and plant a big, wet one on Malfoy. "I don't suppose you'll tell me who cast the spell on you, so we can give them the proper reprimands?" Madame Pomfrey asked, one eyebrow raised. Harry only smiled at her sheepishly. She sighed. "Thought not." She then gestured to the glass of the questionable liquid in Harry's hand, which Harry had actually planned on Vanishing as soon as her back was turned. Unfortunately, she seemed to read his mind and waited patiently for him to drink it in front of her. Harry did, and thought that jinxing Ginny's hair into snakes for a month was too merciful. When Madame Pomfrey was satisfied that he had drank the very last drop, she took his and Malfoy's glass with her and left them stern instructions to get some rest! Almost as soon as she walked away, Draco lay back on his bed, pulled the covers up to his shoulders and turned on the bed so that his back was facing Harry. Because of this, Harry had no qualms about staring openly at him. Err. His back. After the war, Harry didn't hear much of Malfoy, other than he was on probation for three years. Harry was surprised the day he arrived in the newly-renovated Hogwarts for his eight year and saw Draco Malfoy in the Great Hall. What surprised him even more was that the Slytherin had looked so pale, so subdued… so very different to the proud and regal Malfoy demeanor. As weeks passed, Malfoy kept mostly to himself. The only other Slytherin eight years were Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, but Malfoy kept away from them as well. For what reasons, no one knew. It was mid-October when Harry Potter realized, with a sense of dread, that he was once again growing to be very much obsessed with Draco Malfoy. It had been easy to ignore when he was busy with the war and even easier during the summer after Voldemort's death. Out of sight, out of mind after all. But now, seeing Draco everyday made him hyper-conscious of the boy's every movement. It was like sixth year all over again. Actually, it was like every other year in Hogwarts, only this time, Harry had no excuse to hide behind. Dark Lords were vanquished, Wizarding Worlds were saved, and he and Ginny had come to the agreement that they were better off as friends. Speaking of Ginny… Harry wasn't the only one who realized the appearance of his rapidly growing obsession. Hence The Plan that Ginny had badly influenced the whole Gryffindor Quidditch Team into implementing with her to hit Harry with the infamous Jinx. The bloody wankers were more than happy to oblige, saying that they merely wanted to give their beloved captain's very stagnant, almost nonexistent love life a happy ending. (Bollocks, really, because they just wanted to see Harry embarrass himself.) As if Harry was going to come up to Malfoy and suddenly snog him. No, that would be disastrous. Harry knew he was a Gryffindor, but he wondered if Ginny realized that he wasn't suicidal. Sighing, he burrowed deeper under the covers and succumbed to the drowsy effects of the potion, dreaming of kissing Draco Malfoy. The next time he woke up, it was to sticky sheets and the realization that he really did miss Malfoy's sneer. The bed next to his was empty and so was the rest of the Hospital Wing. With a burning face, he quickly Scourgified himself and the bed, and convinced himself that Madame Pomfrey wasn't going to send an army of Inferi towards him if he went out of the infirmary now. He could already move his arm without wincing after all. As he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, he realized that it was already night time. He cast a quick Tempus and hurried to the Great Hall when he found out that it was time for dinner. It really shouldn't have surprised him that the whole Hogwarts population now knew that Harry Potter was under the infamous Lip-Lock Jinx, but the outburst that greeted him still made him freeze. There were a lot of whistles and catcalls, and a lot of "Kiss me, Harry!" from girls that made him flush to the tip of his ears. When he arrived at the Gryffindor Table, he promptly ignored the grinning faces of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and sat next to a sympathetic Ron and Hermione. "Sorry, mate," Ron said, glaring at his sister a few seats down who happily ignored him. "Told her off, but older brother powers don't work when your sister's Ginny," he muttered. Harry shrugged and grinned at him to tell him it was fine, to which Ron brightened up considerably. "Alright, now that I've apologized and stuff," Ron said, grinning widely with mischief. "Who's the lucky girl?" Hermione elbowed him quite harshly, which made him double over the table with a pained oof. She turned to Harry. "We visited you in the Hospital Wing earlier, but you were still sleeping. Don't worry, I'll talk to Ginny later," she said firmly, giving the mentioned girl a stern glare. Harry touched her elbow to catch her attention and shook his head. Hermione looked at him with a dry, withering expression. "Harry James Potter, if this is about your pride –" It was, actually, so Harry ducked away from her stare and scooped himself some mashed potatoes. Hermione sighed exasperatedly but simply turned back to her dinner with a huff. "You better know what you're doing," she muttered. Harry didn't, honestly. It was either kiss Malfoy or wait for Ginny to take pity on him and take the spell off, and since he wasn't feeling particularly suicidal at the moment, he was dead-set on accomplishing the latter choice. Oh, it was on. The next day, Harry was already rethinking his decision. If he thought that his eight year subjects were hell, it was nothing compared to the experience of going through them when you couldn't speak let alone cast a spell. Harry was good with non-verbal magic, but those were easy spells like Scourgify and Accio-ing Yorkshire pudding from Dean's plate. Definitely not for fighting Scandinavian Goblins in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry barely survived that meeting and had come out of it with his glasses broken and his manly pride shredded to pieces. Whenever he and McGonagall would pass ways, he would smile at her sheepishly in greeting and she would stare at him from above her spectacles as if she wanted to say something, but she would always just shake her head and sigh and walk away with a simple "Good day to you, Harry." He'd think about just kissing Malfoy to get it over with, and it's not like it was such an unwelcome event for him – but then Malfoy would turn the corner and they'd pass each other, Draco with his head turned down as usual and Harry with his heart caught in his throat. Okay, so. Kissing Malfoy is out of the option. So is begging Ginny to take the spell off. Definitely not. (As if Ginny would take it off anyway.) Another day later, Harry wanted to scream. So he did. And punched a tree when no sound came out. After half an hour, he sat in the infirmary with Madame Pomfrey tending to his bloodied fist littered with splinters. "Still not going to tell me who did it?" she asked calmly. Harry very stubbornly shook his head no. It was at that moment that Draco Malfoy walked in with a slight limp and a cringe marring his features. It should be embarrassing how suddenly Harry found himself very worried. Madame Pomfrey immediately stood up from her stool in front of Harry and walked over to Draco, frowning thinly. "What is it this time?" It wasn't accusatory. It was more of… deeply concerned. Quickly, Draco's eyes skirted over Harry behind Madame Pomfrey before they returned to looking at the floor. He shrugged, before wincing as he realized that the motion was not very wise. "Stinging Hex," he muttered lowly, but in the empty infirmary, Harry heard it all the same. He felt the same anger from a few days ago return. Madame Pomfrey made a loud, disapproving sound. She looked so very upset and angry. "Merlin, children these days – I ought to –" she quickly cut herself off, taking a deep breath. "Sit down, Draco. I'll get a potion for you in a bit." She led him to sit on the bed beside the one Harry was sitting on, very conveniently making them face each other. "Harry, just sit for a while, I'll get back to you, dear." Harry nodded, even though she had already turned away from him and disappeared in the backroom of the infirmary where some of her potions were stored, leaving an uncomfortable silence to hang between the two boys. In Harry's part, he didn't really have much choice in the matter since he was currently rendered mute. Draco sat on the edge of the bed, his back straight and stiff. Once in a while he'd shift, always with a wince. Harry couldn't take it anymore. He made a grunting noise (Yes, way to go, Potter, very civilized.) to get Draco's attention and when Draco snapped his head up to look at him, motioned towards him with his hand. Draco raised an eyebrow at him. For a moment, Harry was scared that Draco wasn't going to talk to him. After all, the boy had barely spoken to him since the school year started except for the seemingly forced and quiet "Morning, Potter." whenever it was inevitable. "Why do you care?" was Draco's stiff reply, almost bitter. Almost out of habit, Harry glared sullenly at that. I do, he thought, but couldn't say it. Even if he could, he didn't know how to say it so he just sat there, sulking. When Draco spoke again, Harry almost jumped out of his skin in shock. "Stinging Hex," Draco said slowly, as if carefully choosing his words. 'Who?' mouthed Harry, frowning. Draco looked at him inquisitively, searchingly. When he spoke, it was with a quiet voice, and shame passed briefly over his face before quickly being covered up by the calm Malfoy demeanor. "I don't know," he said tightly. Harry's fists clenched, making more blood trickle out of his wounds. 'Bloody fucking wankers,' he spat angrily, not caring if no sound came out. He glared at the infirmary door. He didn't know if Malfoy understood what he said, so he was surprised when an amused smile stole over the other boy's features. "They are, Potter," Draco said agreeably, before a look of discomfort clouded his face. "I suppose I deserve it though," he muttered bitterly, body stiffening once again. Harry immediately shook his head, messing his already disorderly hair. Nobody deserves it, he thought fiercely, but didn't know how to tell it. Alright, so Voldemort does. A whole bloody lot of Stinging Hexes. And your aunt too. But not you. At least, I don't think so. He suddenly felt very sad. The war was over. Why couldn't everyone move on? He made a noise of frustration, sulking at not being able to say anything. Draco smirked at him slightly. "Don't worry, Potter, I think I get it. No need to worry your little brain over it," he said, and just like that, the sadness dissipated. Draco was actually insulting him now. That was improvement! Harry rolled his eyes but grinned openly at him, even though he felt kind of stupid just sitting there and not saying anything. A look of surprise flittered over Draco's face, and Draco quickly looked away in discomfort. Another awkward silence enveloped them after that and Harry had no idea how to break the ice this time. Asking about the weather was already pretty lame, more so when you're rendered mute. And Draco had this disposition that seemed like he didn't want to talk anymore. Harry scuffed his shoes against the floor, feeling very self-conscious, and they stayed that way until Madame Pomfrey returned, fussing over the both of them and all but forcing them to drink more questionable liquids. "I think you're looking at this very negatively, Harry," Ginny remarked the next day as they were walking the edge of the Hogwarts Lake. They walked side by side, relishing the quiet atmosphere along with the slightly cold wind that brushed past their cheeks. Harry gave her a withering look. He held up three fingers. Three days I've not uttered a word, he thought accusingly. It's a wonder the professors aren't kicking me out of classes yet! "Oh, don't think like that, Harry," Ginny said nonchalantly, waving whatever thoughts that Harry was presumably having with a scoff. "I'm trying to help here." Harry shoved his three fingers closer to her face. "Hardly the point," Ginny said. She suddenly stopped walking and turned to him, hands on her waist and an eyebrow raised. "So? Any improvement?" Harry raised an eyebrow right back at her. Ginny sighed exasperatedly. She looked crestfallen. "None?" I don't know why you look so down. I should be the one sulking seeing as I'm the one who haven't spoken a single word FOR THREE DAYS, Harry thought, inwardly fuming. Ginny ignored his glare, and sighed once again. "I don't see why you can't just suddenly go up and kiss him, Harry. It should be really easy." Harry stared at her in incredulity. Maybe because he's, oh, I don't know, Draco Malfoy? And maybe because he hates me? Yesterday flashed before his mind and he quickly fixed that thought. Alright, so maybe he doesn't anymore, but I don't think he's ready for his ex-rival to snog him senseless so suddenly just yet. Ginny continued on nonchalantly. "Grab him and shove him in the Potions classroom." Harry was horrified. Snape's ghost would haunt me until my dying days! "Slughorn probably wouldn't bat an eyelash." I don't care about Slughorn, Ginny. Snape! Snape! "All I'm saying, Harry, is that you deserve to be happy," Ginny said, sniffing. Harry's expression softened and he sighed, rolling his eyes as he leaned forward to capture her in a hug. I know. When they pulled apart, Ginny's eyes were bright. "So you'll do it then? Soon?" Harry's dry look made her shoulders droop. You're forgetting his feelings here, Ginny. "Oh, come on, Harry," Ginny said, almost whining. "You practically turn into mush the minute he steps into the same room as you!" Harry was gobsmacked. I do not! "Yes, you do. I used to watch you, remember? Back when I had this hippogriff-sized crush on you? I know." Ginny's look was triumphant. Harry flushed. As I said, you're kind of forgetting his feelings. How would you feel if your ex-rival suddenly came up to you and kissed you? He'd probably think it was a prank. Probably punch me too. Or render me impotent. "Anyway, I'm still not taking the spell off you." Harry glared at her. The next day, Hermione pulled him aside just after leaving the Great Hall for breakfast with a hand on her hip and a stern look. Harry shifted nervously. From behind his girlfriend, Ron sent him a sympathetic look. "Still not going to budge, huh, Harry?" Hermione said accusingly with narrowed eyes. Harry hung his head guiltily. "Honestly, your grades are suffering because of this. You can't even cast spells!" Hermione said, sighing dramatically. "You may as well be a squib!" Harry gave her a pointed look, almost hurt. Hey, I can still cast spells, you know. Just not… Patronus charms or something. Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean, Harry!" Harry shrugged. He looked at Hermione's worried expression and softened a bit. Reaching out, he grasped her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. 'I'll be fine,' he mouthed. To prove his point, he shuffled through his bag to get his Transfigurations essay, finished and complete that he had finished yesterday after his and Ginny's 'talk' in an effort to get Draco Malfoy out of his mind. Hermione was mollified for the time being. It had been four days since the jinx first hit him. You'd think that people would have gotten tired of it by now, but a lot of girls still called to him whenever he'd pass by and ambushed him whenever they'd catch him alone. There were a few guys who tried to plant big, wet ones on him, but Harry always immediately Accio-ed whatever near object there was to hit them. (Alright, so he did feel a bit sorry for the one who was stupid enough to ambush Harry in the greenhouse, of all places. Harry didn't think that getting hit by a pot was very comfortable.) And really, when did this become a Grab The Chance to Snog the Golden Boy parade? On the fifth day, it seemed like everyone was starting to get desperate for Harry to be released from the spell. People were getting frantic, whispering of just who Harry Potter's secret love was. There was also talk of just who cast the spell, but that didn't compare to the list of possible love candidates that Lavender Brown was compiling with some of the fifth-year Hufflepuffs. Harry missed talking. Really. There were times when he'd get frustrated again, but memories of the splinters imbedding themselves in his skin always stopped him whenever he'd feel the urge to punch something. He also thought about kissing Draco Malfoy just to get this over with. But then as quickly as that thought had come, he'd think no, that's too risky. Draco would probably never forgive him for that. "Just kiss her already!" Ron sighed exasperatedly as they all sat in the Gryffindor common room, books open and quills at the ready. "I have no idea why you're being so bloody stubborn!" "Well, maybe he doesn't want to hurt the girl's feelings, Ron," Hermione said, albeit a bit distractedly as she scribbled furiously onto her parchment. Suddenly, she stopped and narrowed her eyes at Harry. "What I'm wondering about is why you haven't talked to Ginny yet," she said, sniffing haughtily. Whatever snide thought that Harry was about to conjure in reply to that did not come to fruition as Ron replied for him, quite confusedly. "Uhm. Harry can't talk, remember?" It was Hermione's turn to sigh exasperatedly. "You know what I mean!" She put her quill down. Harry and Ron shared greatly alarmed looks. Hermione putting her quill down can't be good. "Honestly, Harry, I miss having a decent conversation with you," she said softly. After a small pause, Harry nodded slowly. Taking a small piece of spare parchment, he picked up his quill and wrote on it. 'Okay, I'll talk to Ginny.' Hermione's responding smile was bright. 'Hermione wants me to talk to you,' Harry wrote on the Self-Erasing Parchment that Fred and George bought him during fifth year. Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You know my answer's still going to be no." Harry shrugged. 'I thought I'd try anyway, for Hermione.' "You're really admirable, Harry," Ginny said with a smile. "Now if you'd just direct that charm to certain blond wizards…" Harry hurriedly walked away. That night, Harry and Ron stayed up late talking. Or, in Harry's case, writing. Five days, Ron, wrote Harry in messy, careless handwriting. FIVE DAYS. "I can always talk to Ginny, mate," Ron said in between tearing the limbs off his chocolate frog. "Not that it'd be much help, but it might knock some sense in her." Harry blinked at him. I've got more pride than asking my best mate to tell his little sister off for bullying me. Ron grinned. "Just wondering if you're already that desperate." D'you reckon she'll take it off anytime soon? "No," was Ron's unapologetic reply. He peered nervously at Harry. "You're not mad at Ginny or anything, are you?" Harry sent him a dry look. 'Course I am. FIVE DAYS. "But not mad mad, right?" Harry's dry look remained. Ron grinned. "Thought so, mate. You haven't Trip Jinxed her once." Harry raised an eyebrow. She's a girl. "'Atta boy, Harry. You know, I think I like you two better as friends. Not that I don't mind you being her boyfriend –" Harry's eyebrow rose higher. "Alright, so I did mind. That was just… weird." Harry snorted. Ron shoved the rest of the frog in his mouth. "So, who is it?" Harry blinked. Ron rolled his eyes. "I mean, the lucky girl?" When Harry merely pursed his lips, Ron's expression looked hurt. "You know, the only reason why I haven't asked yet is because I kind of figured that you'd tell me anyway." Harry was ashamed. He turned to his best mate and cringed, both at Ron's expression and what he was about to say. Or write. He groaned. Merlin, he had planned to tell Ron, not… write him. It's not that, Ron, he wrote. Ron raised an eyebrow at him, before looking back down at the parchment, waiting for him to write more. Harry closed his eyes and counted to five. You're not going to like who it is. Ron made a strangled noise of confusion. "Not going to like who it is?" he said, looking at Harry funny. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Harry, is that what you think of me? I think I'm perfectly capable of accepting my best mate's love interest." Then, a hilarious thought appeared in his mind and he cackled with glee. "Unless you're actually wanking to Malfoy." Harry choked on his own saliva. Ron sniggered. "I know, right. So, who is it really?" With his face burning, Harry very pointedly not looked at him. Soon, slowly but surely, Ron's eyes widened and Harry would have found the gradual discoloration of his face funny at some other moment in time, but now he was too busy wallowing in his embarrassment. "Oh, God," Ron said, sounding like he was going to be sick. "I think the frog's still jumping in my stomach." DROP IT, RON, wrote Harry on the Self-Erasing Parchment the next morning as they were walking to the Great Hall. Hermione had already gone ahead of them since they had woken up late after staying up until two in the morning. "But Harry," Ron said, whining pitifully. "Why him? I mean, I've no problem with you liking blokes – really, I had my guesses when you dumped Gin –" Harry's glare was ignored. "But really. HIM?" Harry raised an eyebrow at him. I thought you'd be mad. Ron looked at him incredulously. "No, YOU'REmad! And – and –" He paused, and Harry actually saw how his emotions transformed from disbelief to a reluctant realization to utter defeat. "And I know how it feels. S'not like you can help your fee –" Ron's nose scrunched up in disgust. He tried again. "Feelings." Harry grinned at him. "Well, certainly explains your stalker tendencies during sixth year," Ron muttered. "He doesn't even talk anymore!" Ron blurted out during breakfast, effectively spraying soiled bread crumbs all over the table. His eyes were fixed firmly on Malfoy's figure sitting in the Slytherin table, beside Nott and Zabini but none of them were talking. In fact, Malfoy was just staring at his plate, poking his pancakes absently. "And he's gotten so thin," he muttered. Harry frowned, eyes glancing over Draco as well despite his efforts not to be obvious, because someone had to be and Ron was pretty much announcing to the world that he was incapable of discretion. Draco really had gotten so thin since the school year started. Well, the boy was already thin enough to begin with, and Harry didn't really expect anything less because of the war and Lucius being sent to Azkaban for life and Narcissa and Draco being held on probation. That didn't mean he still wasn't worried though. "Oh, God, Harry, don't… look like that," Ron moaned pitifully. "Next thing I know you'll sweep him off his feet and feed him breakfast in bed." Harry flushed and, as enticing as that thought was, glared at him. He then picked up the Self-Erasing Parchment and scribbled furiously on it. SHUT IT, RON, OR ELSE I'LL TELL HERMIONE THAT YOU WERE THE ONE WHO BLEW UP SLUGHORN'S CAULDRON SO THAT WE COULD HAVE AN EARLY DISMISSAL Harry's fingers hurt from writing so fast but Ron shut up and Harry finished his breakfast in peace, with Ron only muttering about Malfoy from time to time. Actually, Harry did not finish his breakfast in peace. A lot of the Gryffindors and even some Hufflepuffs came up to him in random intervals demanding—err, asking him who the lucky girl was. The Patil twins were very persistent. Justin Finch-Fletchley asked him if it was a guy. Romilda Vane threw herself on his lap and tried to kiss him but only managed to spill his pumpkin juice on her. Harry was more than ready to run out of the Great Hall when Seamus tried to kiss him. Well, at least Ron had a good time. He's a Death Eater, Ron wrote on the Self-Erasing Parchment as Professor Binns talked about The Third Troll War that no one was listening to. Harry frowned at the parchment, and then frowned at Ron. Ron shrugged, taking the parchment back. His earlier statement had already disappeared, so he had no problem scribbling hastily all over it. I had to say it. Harry rolled his eyes and took it from him. He was. And not by choice. Alright, fair enough. He's a git. Part of his charm. Ron stared at him incredulously. It was Harry's turn to shrug. Ron stared some more. Rolling his eyes, Harry took the parchment back. It is, okay? And besides, he's sort of softened up now. Ron snorted. Softened? He doesn't even talk anymore, he wrote, repeating his statement from that morning. Harry frowned again, shoulders drooping. I know. I hate it. Ron also frowned, but only because of the sudden downturn of his friend's mood. He grabbed the parchment from him and tried again. He made your life hell. Harry paused at this. Not really. Sort of. He paused again, still thinking hard by the time the words had already disappeared on the parchment. Well, it was a mutual thing. He always started it, Ron wrote. Maybe he just wanted me to notice him? Harry asked, a wry grin on his lips despite how far-fetched the notion seemed. The sound of Ron's head hitting the table was ignored by Binns and the rest of the class, who were already fast asleep. It was on the seventh day, a week after the Jinx first hit him, when Lavender Brown decided she couldn't take it anymore. Where was all the gossip? All the rumors were dead-end rumors, that it just didn't feel good to spread them anymore. Harry Potter was so tight-lipped! (No pun intended.) After a quick plan-making session in the girls' bathroom, she took almost half the female student population of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with her to get to the bottom of things. And so it was on the seventh day that a determined mob of girls flocked to the Gryffindor Table during breakfast and stared pointedly at Harry Potter, who had his sandwich halfway to his mouth. Expectedly, all eyes were on them. After all, everyone was also very eager to find out just who stood in Harry Potter's heart. And, err, well, between Harry Potter and the ability of speech. Ron, out of the habit that he had grown to have the past few days, looked around for Malfoy but was confused when he didn't find him. Harry flushed at the attention, put his sandwich down and fidgeted in his seat. "Harry James Potter," announced Lavender Brown. "It has been a week. SEVEN DAYS." A murmur of agreement passed over the Great Hall, though Harry didn't know what was there to agree about. "That's probably the longest that anyone in Hogwart's been under Lip-Lock," Parvati mused. Another murmur of agreement, although it was louder this time. "Do you not have any plans at all to break that spell?" Lavender asked exasperatedly. "Oh, for goodness' sake, Lavender!" Hermione said, infuriated. Lavender ignored her. "We demand that you kiss whoever your heart desires right NOW!" It was like madness had ensued. Harry, in retrospect, should have probably already run away from the Great Hall around that time and maybe hid himself in the Shrieking Shack. The girls had by now abandoned all civility and had started pushing and yelling and whistling and shrieking horrid pick-up lines. "We can't take this anymore!" "All the suspense is killing us!" "Kiss one of us already!" "Kiss me, Harry!" "No, me!" "No, ME!" "HARRY, I LOVE YOU!" Harry only managed to escape the chaos and the grabby hands grasping at his clothes with the help of Madame Hooch, who had come to save the day with broomsticks. By the time that Harry, shaky and disoriented, had flown out of the Great Hall, Ginny was still eating peacefully at the Gryffindor's Table, silently sniggering to herself because if only these girls knew that they had all the wrong equipment. Unfortunately for Harry, he had flown out of the Great Hall doors, not the high windows where the owls flew in and out of every morning to deliver mail, so the mob had no problems chasing after him whatsoever. Even more unfortunately, he was only riding a Cleansweep. Ruddy fucking broom! Harry thought as he swerved sharply to the left, almost hitting the wall as the broom responded late to his movements. Madame Hooch was flying beside him, muttering under her breath. Then, she suddenly swerved so close to him, almost dangerously so, and tapped her wand on his head. It hurt, really, since she had involuntarily used more force than what was necessary due to their shaky flying, but Harry could forgive her since she had just cast a Disillusionment Charm on him. They were crossing the Stone Bridge now, heading for the Transfiguration Courtyard. "I'll stop them. Go and get that blasted Jinx off you, Potter!" she yelled over the wind, and then she was gone and Harry flew for his life. The thing was, how was he supposed to get the blasted Jinx off him? Ginny was still back in the Great Hall and Harry really didn't want to entertain the thought of begging her. Kissing Malfoy was, of course, not a choice. There must be another way for him to take the spell off! Should've asked Hermione, he thought grumpily then made another sudden swerve. When in doubt, go to Hermione. If Hermione's not available – or, err, back in the Great Hall with a mob of crazed students, then one has to make do with the library. The library was empty, thank Merlin. Even Madame Pince was not present, as she was in the Great Hall finishing her breakfast. Harry quickly dismounted, placed the broom in one corner, and went straight for the 'J' aisle. He really had no hopes that he would find something to get the Jinx off. If no one has been able to find or makethe counter-spell, then what were his chances? Still, he had nothing better to do anyway. It was either that or let the mob chase him all around the castle. He hurriedly took the first five books he found on Jinxes, just in case the girls (and some boys) reached the library, and carried them towards the nearest table that – ohfuckingMerlinonastick. Well, shit. There was Draco Malfoy, sitting beside the window and reading a book, his expression one of relaxation and with the sunlight bouncing off white skin and blond hair. It was almost unfair, how purposelessly gorgeous he could be. He wasn't even trying! Harry had frozen in place, five books weighing heavily in his arms as he stared and thought rather pitifully: Everything is Ginny's fault. Realizing that he was not alone anymore, Draco looked up and he blinked hard at the sight of books hovering in mid-air. Quickly, Harry put the books down on the nearest hard surface and fished his wand from his pocket to take off the Disillusionment charm. He carried the books again. Surprise flitted over Draco's expression when he saw Harry standing just a few feet away from him, looking flustered and mussed and wind-blown. He blinked at the books in Harry's arms. "Potter," he greeted, slowly, almost cautiously. At that, Harry flushed and nodded in greeting, managing a weak grin. Draco nodded back, and then simply returned to his book. Swallowing, Harry willed his feet to move. He awkwardly placed the books on the table beside Malfoy's and proceeded to flip through the pages, feeling very self-conscious. Oh, if Draco just knew that he was the reason why Harry was agonizing right now. Actually, no, it was Ginny's fault, but really. Silence enveloped them and the only sounds that could be heard were the flipping of pages, Harry's still unsteady breathing due to flying and Draco's relaxed one. Harry could feel the silence's heaviness, and wondered if he was the only one feeling awkward. Draco looked as he always did, impassive and nonchalant. Then, a shrill voice sounded from outside and made Harry jump from the shock. "HARRY, I'VE BEEN WHOMPING MY WILLOW THINKING ABOUT YOU!" Harry's face burned a fiery red and he groaned. He did not want to look behind him and see Malfoy's expression. He looked out the window and gaped as the mob spread out all over the courtyard, screaming his name and other obscene pick-up lines. "Well," came Malfoy's drawl. "Seems like everyone wants to get a piece of our Savior," he said softly, but the edge of his lips twitched upwards in amusement. Harry didn't know whether to be embarrassed or happy because Draco was actually talking. To him. Without being talked to first! And he was actually going back to his former self, insults and all! Well, he still talked below his normal volume, but it was still an improvement. Not wanting to let this pass, he quickly got the Self-Erasing Parchment from his pocket and turned around in his chair, placing it on Malfoy's table to write on it. I'm terrified of girls now. He hoped that Draco didn't find this too weird, Harry actually trying to start a decent conversation that wasn't out of necessity or obligation to schoolwork. Draco probably did, if his look of surprised confusion was anything to go by. "Tough," Draco said merely, shrugging. He paused, as if wanting to say something more. His eyes flickered back to his book, contemplating on ending the conversation there. Either way, Harry still would have forced the conversation to continue, but it made him grin when Draco looked back up at him again, struggling to hide the curiosity in his voice. "So? What's the angry mob for?" he said, nudging his head towards the window. Harry shrugged. Lip-Lock Jinx. "Ah," Draco said in understanding, glancing at the books about Jinxes behind Harry. He paused again, before thinking better of it and returning back to his book, forcing himself to read. Harry wasn't going to be swayed that easily. What is it? He wrote, and then kicked Draco's leg under the table. "Ow!" Draco exclaimed, glaring at Harry. Now that was more like it. Harry pointed at the parchment quickly, before the writing dissolved. Draco looked uncomfortable. He frowned, eyes fixed on the parchment even as the words disappeared. Finally, after a brief period of silence, he shrugged, seeming nonchalant. "Haven't kissed her yet?" Of all the questions that Malfoy could have asked, that question was not one of those that Harry had expected from him. Harry flushed, the redness of his cheeks creeping to his neck as he very pointedly tried not to stare at Malfoy's lips. No, he wrote. Draco's lip curled. "How chivalrous," he said, and then turned to his book, making it clear that he did not want to talk anymore. Harry felt put-out but figured that he was already lucky to get that much. Still feeling rather proud of himself, he turned back to his own books and started flipped through them once more, not really reading. Still, he found himself relaxing against the chair, the silence of the library and Malfoy's breathing lulling him into calmness. He'd start whenever another shrill scream of his name would resound from below, but otherwise kept his eyes on the text in front of him. He wished he didn't sit with his back facing Draco though. His eyes still burned with that image of Draco sitting under the window and the sunlight, looking relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Potter." Draco's quiet voice made Harry jump, both in surprise and anticipation, and he quickly moved in his chair to look behind him. Draco looked like he was struggling not to look uncomfortable. His cheeks were tinted pink, and he shifted in his seat, fingers nervously playing with the pages. Harry blinked in confusion. "My wand," Draco said slowly, hesitatingly. He brought himself to meet Harry's eyes. "Do you still have it?" Oh, Harry thought. He blinked some more, not really expecting that but thinking that he probably should have. He did have Malfoy's wand, in his trunk in Gryffindor Tower. He had thought of returning it, but either forgot about it or lost his nerve whenever he'd try to. Besides, Draco already had a new wand, but Harry reckoned it didn't work as good as his old one. His silence obviously unnerved Draco, who quickly looked away and summoned his cool façade once more. "You don't have to give it to me. I have a new wand anyway, and it's not like I'm allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts. I just thought that – maybe –" Harry cut him off by sliding the Self-Erasing Parchment towards him. On it, he had written: I'll give it to you later. Draco stared at the parchment, then it was like all the worries in his face had disappeared and he let out a breath of relief. He looked at Harry. "Thank you," he breathed out. Harry felt like his face was going to break because of his grin. Lunch? Same place. He almost laughed, because it was like he was scheduling a date. He hoped that Malfoy didn't find it weird, but if he did, he didn't show it. Draco simply nodded, before standing up. "Time for class," he muttered, looking pointedly at Harry's messy table of opened books. Harry quickly set to work on gathering everything up. Draco's curiosity got the better of him. "Did you find anything?" he asked. Harry smiled at him sheepishly. Absolutely nothing, he wrote on the Parchment. Draco raised an eyebrow. "You do know who Jinxed you, right?" Harry hesitated, before nodding. No begging. My dignity is already bruised enough. Draco's lips twitched upwards. "And you haven't kissed her yet because?" Oh, this was awkward. They were actually talking about kissing. Harry felt his face burn, because oh, if only Draco knew. They'd hate me forever, he wrote then quickly gathered the books in his arms before rushing towards the shelves, leaving Draco to stare, baffled, at the Parchment. Draco raised his eyebrow, both at the exaggeration and the careful use of pronoun. When Harry returned, Draco was already gone but the Parchment still lay on the table with words on it that Harry didn't remember writing. He barely managed to read it before it dissolved into nothing. No one could hate you. Harry figured that McGonagall had given the students a good scolding, if their proper behavior was anything to go by when Harry arrived in his first class that morning. Lavender was still shifty though, and kept giving him suspicious glances. Ron sniggered at him and Hermione was oddly quiet. Not so odd since they were in a classroom and she did usually ignore them for the sake of studies, but odd because she hadn't raised her hand once nor had she even commented on the scene that happened that morning during breakfast. Still, Harry wasn't one to take his blessings for granted so he took his seat and tried to pretend that everything was still normal. He also tried to listen to the lecture, but his thoughts were faraway, filled with Draco Malfoy and Self-Erasing Parchments. On their way to the next class, Harry halted his friends. He put the Self-Erasing Parchment against the wall, wrote on it, before presenting it to Hermione. Do you know if there's a counter-spell for the Lip-Lock Jinx? He tried to look pitiful and desperate. Begging Ginny was out of the question but begging Hermione, now that was another case. After all, it wasn't like he and Ron hadn't gone on their knees and begged her for things before. (This happened more than they'd like to admit.) Amazingly, Hermione looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Harry. I've tried. But surely, if a counter-spell exists, then someone must have already found it. If no one's found it yet, then I don't see how I could." And she was off, happily walking down the hall towards their Charms classroom, leaving Harry and Ron looking at her retreating back with dropped jaws and gobsmacked faces. "Did you just hear that, mate?" Ron said disbelievingly. "That's the first time I heard her say that she couldn't do anything. And she's Hermione!" But you're Hermione, thought Harry meekly as Hermione disappeared inside the classroom. His shoulders sagged. If Hermione couldn't find anything, then all hope was lost. He was doomed. Lunch came very slowly for Harry. When it did, he all but ran towards the Gryffindor Tower to get Draco's wand. Ron and Hermione let him go easily, deeming it understandable that Harry wouldn't want to go inside the Great Hall just yet and promised to bring him food later. When he arrived at the library, it was empty once again, except for a few Ravenclaw second years. They gave him no trouble though and even slinked away hurriedly when he came near. He quickly walked towards the 'J' aisle, reminding himself firmly not to be so excited. You're acting like a first year, Harry, he scolded himself. Still, when he saw Draco already sitting at the same place he sat in that morning, he couldn't stop himself from feeling lighter. Draco looked nervous. His eyes were on his book but one could see that he wasn't really reading, more of idly flipping the pages back and forth. Summoning his courage, Harry walked over and placed the wand on the table. Draco jumped in shock, eyes whipping up towards Harry's face. Harry motioned towards the wand and tried to smile, to show that he was giving it back with no hard feelings and no strings attached. The look on Draco's face was positively glowing. He looked so relieved when he touched his original wand again for the first time in a long time and he almost looked like a child during Christmas, seeing the first snow of the season and the fairy lights. "Thank you," he breathed out, looking uncomfortable as he did so but determined anyway. Harry nodded, grinning. "You're…" Draco started, swallowing nervously as Harry sat down on the chair across him. "You're really giving it to me?" he said, once again in that quiet and unsure voice of his that Harry had come to hate. Harry was confused. He took out the Self-Erasing Parchment from his pocket and wrote on it. Why not? Draco let out a humorless laugh. "Why not? Potter, I'm a Death Eater!" Harry frowned. Was. Draco snorted. "As far as I know, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater," he muttered bitterly. "There's no quit option." Harry was finding it ironic that he actually disliked this moment that Malfoy actually talked to him for more than five words. You didn't exactly pick the join option either. Draco stared at him incredulously. "Are you daft, Potter? I knew you were hopelessly Gryffindor, but this is just pathetic," he spat, so unlike his quiet demeanor just a few minutes ago. Harry glared at him, frustration making his hands go cold. Anger getting the better of him, he reached across the table to grab Malfoy's arm, barely registering the way that the other's eyes grew wide with fear, and yanked his sleeve up. The Dark Mark was no longer there. It had disappeared the moment Harry defeated Voldemort. Harry looked at Draco's unblemished skin a little bit smugly, a little bit longingly. He caressed it gently with his thumb. 'It's gone,' he mouthed. Draco yanked his arm away, shaken and disgruntled. It doesn't matter anymore anyway. The war's over, Harry wrote on the parchment, pushing it towards Draco. He looked at the words sadly, wishing that the world thought the same. He felt very depressed suddenly. Draco stared at it too. "You really are daft," he murmured. His old wand lay beside the parchment, forgotten, and Harry gently pushed it towards him, urging him to take it and keep hold of it. Slowly, Draco did. Harry gave him a small smile, before standing up from his seat. "Potter," Draco called out suddenly. Harry stopped, looking at him in question. With him standing and Draco sitting down, the latter actually looked… small like that, eyebrows knitted in confusion and insecurity marring his features. "Don't…" Draco said, voice soft and weak. "Don't you hate me?" He sounded desperate and Harry had to close his eyes to push down the anger that was bubbling inside of him towards the wizarding world for being so close-minded, towards Lucius Malfoy for being a selfish bastard and towards Voldemort for fucking everything up. He wrote on the Self-Erasing Parchment. I'm not sure if I ever did. As he waited for Draco to finish reading, he noted the way that the other's breath hitched and the way his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. The smile that appeared on Harry's face was easy. With one last nod, he took the parchment with him and left the library, feeling considerably lighter with his admission. Underneath the window and the sunlight that made his hair shine gold, Draco stared dumbly at the wood of the table and slowly fell apart. "So Harry," Ginny said smoothly, after she had pretty much ambushed Harry as soon as he had stepped out of his last class. She had dragged Harry away from an incredulous Ron and Hermione for a walk to the Paved Courtyard, taking advantage of his inability to voice out his protests. "Anything new?" No one was present in the Paved Courtyard for everyone was busily scurrying off towards the Great Hall for dinner. Harry wondered if now was a good time as any to hex Ginny's hair into snakes. He looked at her dryly and then pointed to his mouth. Not unexpectedly, Ginny rolled her eyes and reached into his trouser pocket for the Self-Erasing Parchment and his Self-Inking Quill. (Harry loved the Weasleys, really. They make life so much easier.) Harry took it from her and began to write furiously against the wall. Other than the fact that half the school population is very willing to wrestle me to the ground to interrogate and possibly molest me? "You should tell them you like blokes," Ginny said helpfully. "I think the blokes are less likely to molest you." Harry shot her an accusing look. Do you know how frustrating it is not being able to talk? Ginny tried to look offended. "Harry," she exclaimed, scandalized. "Do you know how hard it is for me, knowing that you're unhappy?" Harry was not mollified. "Unhappily pining over a love that may not be as unrequited as you think," Ginny added, a true smile gracing her features. "Where's that Gryffindor courage?" Seeing that accusing Ginny of anything wasn't going to lead him anywhere, Harry sighed in defeat. I appreciate what you're doing – he stopped. Wait, no, I don't. Ginny waited for the words to disappear on the parchment patiently. But Malfoy's not going to like me suddenly snogging him out of nowhere. Ginny shrugged. "Take a chance?" He'll hit me. "Then get hit." Harry will never understand girls. After their walk, Harry had refused to go to the Great Hall for dinner. He quickly evaded Ginny as soon as he could by running away, which wasn't very Gryffindor but was very necessary, He didn't think he was ready to be mobbed again quite yet. So he went to the library. Yes, the Gryffindor Tower would have been more practical and less of a hassle, but he figured that some advanced reading wouldn't hurt… and Hermione really was worried about his grades since he still couldn't speak and he didn't want to worry her any more than she already was. That's all. It wasn't like he was actually hoping that he'd see Draco in the library again. What a preposterous thought. Draco! He thought happily upon seeing the unmistakable blond hair. The boy was sitting in the same chair, reading something that suspiciously looked like it was about potions. He looked… relaxed. And Harry found himself smiling a bit, because it felt good seeing him like that after weeks – no, months of seeing him so strung-up and stiff and cold like it was sixth year all over again but worse, because back then, Draco had something to fight for. With one last fleeting look, Harry turned and left the library. He went to bed happy that night. "You're whipped, mate," Ron commented that morning, after he had eaten breakfast and carried a tray of treacle tart for Harry who refused to leave the Boys' Dormitory. The other boys were still in the Great Hall since a good forty minutes were still left for eating so Ron had no problems rubbing Harry's whipped-ness because of Draco Malfoy in his face. Harry did not answer, only stuffed his face with more of the sweets. "Absolutely whipped," Ron clarified, stealing one of the tarts from the tray. Harry shot him a glare. "When are you going to keep this up anyway?" Ron asked, shoving half of the tart in his mouth. "Really, Harry, I'm also starting to miss having a conversation with you," he said through a mouthful of tart, which wasn't very comprehensible but being his best mate has its merits so Harry had no problems understanding him. Accepting his tendency to spit mashed food out whilst speaking was another thing. Ron swallowed loudly. "And aren't you frustrated?" Harry was confused. "You know, at not being able to talk. It's been eight days." Harry raised an eyebrow. He reached for the Self-Erasing Parchment. OF COURSE I AM Ron gave him a funny look. "You sure don't look like it." That was mainly because the last time Harry did reach boiling point, he ended up with broken knuckles. And he also did not want to go back to the Hospital Wing because that meant Madame Pomfrey forcing the culprit behind the Jinx out of him. And it was just that all these encounters with Draco were keeping him in this good mood. And also… It's nice not having to explain myself all the time. Ron stared at the words for a long while, before snatching another treacle tart. He shrugged. "Alright. Whatever floats your boat." A knock at the door interrupted them. "Harry, open the door right this instant!" Harry's face slowly turned pale. Ron gave him a sympathetic look, before standing up to open the door, but it burst open before he could even take a step and in came Hermione, eyebrow raised and arms akimbo. Harry, who was sitting on the bed, felt small as she stood in front of him in all her bossy glory. "Harry James Potter, would you mind telling me just why Draco Malfoy is on the other side of the Fat Lady's Portrait asking for you?" Harry's face remained dreadfully pale. Oh God what did Ginny do was the first thought that came to his head. Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Well, your Knight awaits." Harry shakily walked out of the room, but his hand was steady when he flipped Ron the bird. Draco really was waiting outside the Fat Lady's Portrait. He stood stiffly and his face was pale and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else than here, but Harry felt his own heart catch in his throat anyway. You're whipped, mate, repeated Ron's voice in his head. He walked closer and hoped his smile looked confident. If possible, Draco paled even more. He looked away nervously, shoved a hand in his pocket and quickly pulled out his wand. His old one, Harry realized. Draco stared at him. "You're not… you're not going to do anything?" Harry blinked, feeling embarrassingly stupid. He had left the Self-Erasing Parchment upstairs with Ron, so he had nothing to write on. He only hoped that his confusion showed clearly on his face. Draco's stare turned incredulous. "I just took out my wand, Potter. I might as well be ready to hex you!" Harry was even more confused. He had no idea why Draco came here, and this certainly wasn't helping him any. Then, Draco laughed lowly. It was a hollow laugh, one that made Harry cringe and vow to never hear again. "Right," Draco said, swallowing with difficulty. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again. "Right, you don't think I can. After all, what can I do against Harry Potter?" he muttered, but there was no bite, just… resignation. Harry grabbed his wrist abruptly. Draco's head snapped up in surprise and they stared at each other's eyes for a while, with Harry silently begging him to try to understand what he was about to say. Harry desperately wanted his Parchment right now. 'It's not that,' he mouthed slowly, hoping that it was clear but thinking it probably wasn't. He kept his hand on Draco's wrist, but softened his grip. Then, hesitatingly, 'I trust you.' Harry did. Ever since that night in the Astronomy Tower, and that time in Malfoy Manor when Draco had been asked to identify them and didn't. Harry trusted him. Draco's face fell, and he suddenly looked very broken. "My – my wand," he muttered, yanking his wrist from Harry's grip. He then took his wand and shoved it in Harry's palm. "Take it. I might… I can't – You keep it. I can't." Then he turned and briskly walked away. It took Harry a few seconds to get himself together and ask himself, what the fuck was that? It occurred to him to run after Draco, but the boy had already turned the corner and was nowhere to be seen and Harry thought that he really needed his Self-Erasing Parchment. So he walked to the Fat Lady's Portrait, wrote the password on her dress with his wand, and sprinted up to his dorm. Ron and Hermione were still sitting on the bed, having a Deep Conversation when he entered but Harry simply ran past them, grabbed his Self-Erasing Parchment, his Self-Inking Quill, and the Marauders' Map from his trunk. Ron and Hermione stayed dutifully quiet as he dashed back out. The Marauders' Map told him that Draco was in the library. This both surprised and not surprised Harry, because Draco did spend most of his time nowadays in the library but he was so rattled earlier, that Harry wondered why he didn't retreat to the dungeons. Harry was glad he didn't though – made it so much easier to get to him. When he finally reached the library though, he found that he had no idea what to say. He had no idea what that whole thing earlier was about. Draco was sitting under that tall window again, the light from outside casting a glow around him. Harry found himself pausing just to look. Nervously, he walked nearer and saw that Draco had a book open in front of him. He reckoned that the blond wasn't actually reading though. When he got closer, Draco's shoulders visibly tensed. Harry frowned. Sighing, he told himself to abandon caution and gingerly took the seat next to Draco. It was an awkward silence. Harry fished around in his pocket and took out Draco's wand. Slowly, he took Draco's hand, ignoring the way the other stiffened as if by reflex, and placed the wand on his palm. Draco's eyes closed. "No, Potter. I'll –" Harry picked up his Self-Inking Quill and wrote. On Draco's palm. You won't. He had no idea how it came to this. Just a week ago he was agonizing that Draco Malfoy wasn't talking to him and showed no interest in doing so. Now he was here in the library, sitting beside Draco and comforting him because of things that he didn't fully understand. He quite liked the feel of Draco's pulse underneath his fingers though. And how Draco's eyes, bright, widened almost imperceptibly as he stared at the messy handwriting on his pale skin. You won't. Won't. Not can't. That meant he had a choice. He could choose. His eyes strayed to his forearm, where the Dark Mark used to be. With a strangled, choking noise, Draco nodded and curled his fingers around his wand. Harry grinned when he felt, more than saw, Draco relax. Reluctantly, he let go of Draco's wrist and also allowed himself to relax in his chair. Draco's eyes shifted to him. "Potter," he started slowly, nervously. "I – well…" Harry's face was beaming when he realized what the other wanted to say. He took the Self-Erasing Parchment and wrote two simple words. You're welcome. And Draco, now at ease, nodded and returned to his book. Harry stayed where he was, content with the sound of Draco's soft breathing beside him, the quiet turning of pages, and the morning sun shining on the two of them. They found themselves in the same position a few hours later, when the rest of the student population was in the Great Hall eating their well-deserved lunch after four straight, grueling hours of classes. Harry had no qualms unabashedly plopping next to Draco once more when he entered the library, and couldn't have smiled a bigger smile when Draco moved a bit to make space for him. Why aren't you eating? He wrote on the Self-Erasing Parchment, before shoving it right under Draco's nose, above the book that he was reading. Draco's eyebrow quirked up at the rude gesture, but Harry just eased back into his chair to get more comfortable. "I'm not hungry," he replied easily. Harry frowned and took the parchment back. But you didn't eat breakfast. Draco shrugged. "You didn't either." I did, in the dorms. "Why not the Great Hall?" Draco countered, though it was probably more of a diversion tactic to steer the conversation away from him. Harry could forgive that at the moment, since Draco seemed to have unconsciously abandoned his book and was all ears – err, eyes. He shot the other an amused look. I'd be eaten alive. The edge of Draco's lips quirked up just a tiny bit. "We have the same reason then," he replied softly, and Harry had no idea what that meant but didn't ask because Draco had already turned away from him, very blatantly telling him that the conversation was over. When dinner rolled in, Ron proved once again why he was Harry's best mate by bringing him a tray of food in the dorms. Harry hesitated, holding a treacle tart in one hand. He took out the Marauders' Map, held up the treacle tart, pointed to the dot that said 'Draco Malfoy', and smiled sheepishly. Ron simply rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Well, go on then. I'll go have a romantic dinner with my girlfriend, and you go have one with yours." Harry was torn between hugging him and flipping him the bird. With the help of the Invisibility Cloak and Hover Charms, Harry managed to get the tray to the library with no problems. The library was empty, even Madame Pince was at the Great Hall eating her dinner, but Harry knew that there was at least one occupant that he would find seating at the very back of the room. Draco wasn't surprised when he saw him, and even nodded in greeting. Harry grinned and with his wand, set the tray on Draco's table rather loudly. Draco jumped at the noise, since he couldn't see just what had caused it. Sitting next to Draco in his usual seat again, Harry took away the Invisibility Cloak and reveled in Draco's wide-eyed, slack jawed expression. When Draco turned that expression to him, Harry could only shrug self-consciously. He took out the Parchment and wrote. Ron brings me too much. Eating alone in the dorms sucks. Draco's lips curled upwards. "We're not allowed to eat in the library," he said amusedly. Harry shrugged again. Disillusionment Charms? Draco's shoulders shook, and Harry almost panicked at the thought that he did something wrong – Draco probably thought he was a creep – until Harry turned to look at him, and he realized with amazement that Draco was laughing. Not an insulting laugh, a… free, easy laugh that seemed to light up his whole face. With a relieved grin, Harry grabbed a piece of treacle tart and took one savory bite. "Hullo, Harry," Ginny greeted him innocently as she sat down on the couch beside him in the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry shot her a wary look. Ginny ignored it. "I hear you've been in the library a lot," she said smoothly. Harry glared at her. I'll be slaughtered alive in the Great Hall, he wrote on the Self-Erasing Parchment. Ginny merely looked at it before smiling at him charmingly. "I haven't seen Malfoy in the Great Hall either." At this, Harry turned a faint hue of red. "Uh-huh," Ginny said and thankfully left it at that. She remained smiling for the rest of the night though, much to Harry's chagrin. The next day at breakfast, Ron took it upon himself to throw in more food than usual in his Harry-tray. When Harry looked at him in surprise, he merely shrugged, grinned and said, "No getting sappy on me now, mate." In response to that, Harry walked over to him and gave him a big, bear hug, much to his horror. When Harry reached the library, Draco was already there, as always. Harry found it incredibly endearing how Draco swiped an apple before the tray had even landed on the table. Git, he mouthed with a roll of his eyes. Draco merely smirked at him. Ever since breakfast yesterday, Harry was finally getting glimpses of the Draco that he once knew. Hell, Draco was even starting conversations now. He was also starting to get back to his habit of snarky comments and insulting Harry's hair, which Harry was undecided whether it was fortunate for him or not. "So?" Draco started, idly flipping the page of his book as Harry sat down. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. So? "You're still here. That means you're still in hiding from Brown and her little posse of delusional teenage girls," Draco said, shrugging. He raised his own eyebrow. "You still haven't gotten that Jinx off you." Caught off guard by the topic, Harry flushed heavily. How was he to say that the ticket to getting the Jinx of him was actually sitting in front of him? And that it didn't matter, because it's not like Harry's going to do anything about it or anything stupid like kiss him or something. No, that would be disastrous. He was already just managing to get Draco to talk to him, and Draco was very good company that Harry actually wanted to keep, and if Harry had to suffer a few more days without the ability of speech because Ginny was being a twat, then so be it. One cannot have everything. Ginny won't take it off, he wrote, feeling rather pathetic at admitting that it was a girl who got him in this mess. Never mind that the girl was Ginny Weasley, who was the one in the predominantly-male Gryffindor Quidditch Team to always wrestle bludgers to the ground in order to shove them inside the ball box. She was the only girl, but the rest of the team had long since accepted that she was the Man in the group. Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The Weaslette? Is it some kind of revenge for breaking up with her?" Harry quickly shook his head. No, we're friends. She was the one who broke up with me, he wrote, smiling sheepishly. Mainly because I was too chicken to. Draco stared at the words, blinking. "Huh," he said. "Always thought you'd hook up and have Potter babies and live happily ever after." As an afterthought, he added softly. Thoughtfully. "I still do, actually. Why would she jinx you?" Harry cringed at the thought of making babies with Ginny. He nearly threw up his toast. No, he scribbled hastily, face ashen. No babies with Ginny. The thought of a pregnant Ginny made him shudder. Draco shot him an amused look. She said she wants me to find happiness, Harry wrote, snorting softly. "By rendering you mute, yes," Draco said wryly, nodding his head in mock-understanding. Harry grinned. Draco opened his mouth to say something more, but then seemed to think better of it and simply closed it, reaching for one of the glasses of pumpkin juice. "Good luck then, Potter," he said instead, returning to his book. Harry wasn't about to let him go that easily. What is it? He wrote and then slipped the Parchment directly on top of the page that Draco was reading, making him jump in surprise. Draco rolled his eyes. "Must you always be so charming?" he muttered, but took the Parchment anyway to read it. He put it down, and then tried to look nonchalant. "Then do the other thing." At Harry's confused expression, Draco went on but kept his eyes firmly on the book as if the conversation bored him. "The other thing, to take the Jinx off." Harry got what he was talking about, and flushed again. He remembered what happened a few days ago, when they had last talked about the Jinx. He still had doubts on whether Draco was the one who wrote the words No one could hate you on the Self-Erasing Parchment. Hell, he doubted himself, if he really did read those words. It could have been just a dream, or – or his imagination, or something. He wondered if Draco will say it again. They'll hate me, he wrote. It was to his disappointment when Draco merely said, "Really." He sounded skeptical, and looked skeptical as well with his raised eyebrow. Harry nodded. It made him nervous, talking about this when the person he really was talking about was the current person he was talking to who absolutely had no idea. Still, he didn't want Draco to return to his book, so he urged the conversation forward. We're not really friends. Draco snorted. "You're Harry Potter. Who wouldn't want to be friends with you?" Harry felt humbled, and ducked his head to hide the redness of his cheeks. He shrugged self-consciously. You? He wrote, chuckling and meaning it as a joke. He probably did the wrong thing though, since Draco bristled and then stiffened. "Yes, well, we all know what happened the last time I offered my hand in friendship." Harry remembered first year and immediately felt bad. He returned to scribbling. Sorry, he wrote and meant it. I didn't mean to. What he didn't mean to, Harry didn't know. Didn't mean to refuse his hand in friendship? Didn't mean to bring back old memories? "Save it, Potter," Draco muttered. His shoulders drooped but remained tense. "I was an insufferable prat, I know." Yeah, you were, was his reply. He raised his head sharply to glare at the other boy, but stopped short when he was greeted by Harry's dazzling smile. What he did to deserve that smile, he may never know, but it never stopped him from wondering. Draco was just as clueless and dumbfounded when he read Harry's next message. I want to be friends now though. And Draco could only stare, and mumble dumbly in reply. "You do?" Harry nodded, and wished he could speak. For a while, Draco remained silent, frowning at the Parchment. Harry almost thought that he was mad at him or something. Finally, Draco looked away, and returned to his book. "Whatever, Potter," he muttered stiffly, but his ears were pink and Harry was smiling. "Harry," Hermione started in the middle of Astronomy. Harry and Ron shared greatly alarmed looks, because Hermione ignoring lessons meant that they were in for some serious berating, but she merely continued on as if she were talking about the weather. "You've been in a good mood lately," she said. Harry stared at her. Warily, he nodded. Hermione stared at him for a long time, with those big, brown eyes of hers, before nodding as well. She flashed him a sweet smile. "Good." Then she turned back to the professor and the lecture, and didn't talk to them until they were dismissed. When Harry looked at Ron with a dumbfounded expression, the redhead merely shrugged exaggeratedly, as if to say, Oy, don't look at me. Ron only brought him food during breakfast and dinner so when lunch rolled around, Harry found himself sitting quietly in the library, a Potions book in front of him, listening to Draco's soft breathing beside him and just reveling in that feeling of simple contentment. Dinner came, and Harry brought with him a tray laden with sweets and his Potions homework. As he nibbled on a treacle tart, Harry thought about Snape and how the man must be laughing in his grave right about now at how Harry was suffering at the hands of Advanced Potions. Slughorn was a good teacher, but there were moments that Harry just… had no fucking idea what he was talking about. He let his head fall on the table with a dull thud, his essay not even halfway finished. He had a feeling that even if he passed an essay that was two feet shorter than the requirement, Slughorn would probably pass him or something, but Hermione probably wouldn't be too happy about that. "Do you need help?" came the soft voice beside him that snapped him out of his stupor. Harry immediately sat up, blinking incredulously at Draco, who flushed shortly afterwards. "Don't look like that, Potter," huffed Draco. "I was only asking," he muttered, turning back to his book. Harry quickly touched his wrist, trying to get his attention back. It was funny, how Harry had been competing with books for Draco's attention for the past few days. Now that Draco was looking at him again, Harry nodded enthusiastically, almost pleading with his expression. Draco quirked an eyebrow upwards, and Harry half-expected him to say something snarky or something, but when Draco simply scooted closer and grabbed his quill, Harry thought his heart would burst. Three feet of parchment and a guaranteed O. Harry had half a mind to give Draco the biggest hug ever, but figured that the boy wouldn't appreciate it very much, coming from him. He couldn't help smiling big and beaming though, even after they had already cleaned the table up. As soon as they passed through the library doors, Harry took out his quill, grabbed Draco's hand and started scribbling. Draco spluttered in indignation at having his smooth skin so utterly defiled. "Potter, you ingrate –" Harry merely flashed him a goofy smile, mouthed 'good night', and hurriedly turned tail towards the Gryffindor Tower. Scowling, Draco looked at his hand – and paled. He wanted to curl into a ball. "What horrid handwriting," he muttered as he started walking towards the Dungeons. He hurried his pace, just in case someone saw him and decided to have some fun. On his hand, in messy black ink, were the wobbly and crooked letters forming the words THANK YOU. As soon as he reached the almost empty Gryffindor common room, he was met with Hermione's raised eyebrow. "Harry," she said with a serious voice that made Harry dread. "Have you been doing well in your studies?" Ron cringed from his position by the fireplace but stayed dutifully bent over his own Potions essay. Hermione's eyebrow remained lifted, a reminder that the only reason why she has stopped nagging him about forgoing his manly pride and going on his hands and knees to beg Ginny for mercy was his assurance that his grades would not suffer because of his condition. But Harry had no worries today. Realizing that Hermione was not about to slavedrive him into studying for NEWT's (which were months away) today, Harry immediately brightened up and he showed her the scroll of parchment he was holding in his hand with a goofy grin. When Hermione read it, her eyes grew wide and amazed. "Harry, this is –" Another parchment was shoved in front of her, and she realized that it was the Self-Erasing Parchment that Harry had just messily scribbled on. Brilliant, I know, it read. Ron finally raised his head, his curiosity getting the better of him. Then Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Harry, you didn't…?" Harry immediately shook his head, feigning hurt. He scribbled some more. Draco helped me, he wrote, looking giddy and smug and just a little bit shy. Hermione's eyes widened even more and her mouth dropped. "Draco?" Ron, who was not able to read what Harry had written on the Self-Erasing Parchment, perked up at the use of Malfoy's first name and – well, Malfoy in general. He was up on both feet and immediately by their side. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Seriously?" Harry nodded. He was wary of Ron's reaction, wondering if he'll start ranting or just blurt out things that should not be blurted out so suddenly. Still, he couldn't help grinning at him. It wasn't that he didn't want Hermione to know. Quite the contrary, in fact. But he didn't know how Hermione would react at hearing it from Ron's ranting. Then, Hermione did something very surprising. She suddenly jumped and enveloped Harry in a big hug, smiling widely. "Harry, that's great!" Ron and Harry shared similar looks of bewilderment and just a little bit of apprehension. Great? Harry thought, and hoped that Hermione would pick up on his confusion soon. Hermione pulled back, grinned at him, and then ran towards the Girls' Dormitories. "I've got to tell Ginny!" It was Harry's turn to be gobsmacked. Beside him, Ron was a deathly white. "Girls," he muttered fearfully. Two minutes later, an ecstatic bundle of ginger hair bounced down the stairs to the Girls' Dormitories and shot straight for Harry, enveloping him in his second big hug. Harry really had no problems with all the hugging – really. But compared to Hermione, Ginny was jumping up and down while hugging him and it was actually kind of painful at being squished so tightly like that. A few feet away, Ron muttered sulkily to his girlfriend. "So you two've been planning this all along?" Hermione kissed his cheek in comfort. "No, it was all Ginny's idea," she whispered to him with a smile. "It just didn't take much for me to figure it out." Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course, you're you." Hermione's smile widened. "But I was still quite shocked when I noticed that you had started to stare at Draco so frequently. It made me wonder." Ron slowly turned green. He quickly decided to forget and purge from his memory that his girlfriend had ever mentioned him being (Merlin help all of us!) infatuated with Malfoy. In fact, he may just Obliviate himself later. "What, so it's Draco now for you too?" he muttered despairingly. It's not like we're boyfriends already, wrote Harry with a bit of a cringe once they had managed to escape the girls and had retreated to the safety of their own dormitory. (Such safe grounds, the Boys' Dormitory.) "Ah, but that's the thing, Harry," Ron said wisely. "For them, you already are." Harry looked stricken. Harry knew that the Lavender and her girls wouldn't follow McGonagall's orders and stay quiet for very long, but that didn't stop him from hoping. He didn't exactly expect them to trap him in a Full Body Bind though. That was just low. And creepy. And Ron wonders why I'm gay, Harry thought bitterly as the girls crowed and started to run towards his stiff form on the very cold floor like predators to their prey. "Finite Incantatem!" a voice rose from the other side of the hall. Harry could suddenly move again. He wasted no time scrabbling from the floor and turning around to hide behind his protector which was – Harry's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets and his heart almost burst with joy as he looked at his savior. Draco? Harry's befuddled mind supplied. Suddenly, something – or rather, someone – shoved against his back and knocked him over, and Harry would have yelled something crude had he the ability to do so. Behind him, the girls were in a similar state of shock as they all stared at Draco's form, the wand in his outstretched hand, and the haughtily raised eyebrow that aimed to remind them that they were lesser beings. Harry didn't have much of an opportunity to be annoyed at whoever knocked him over though – he was still having a hard time processing the fact that Draco Malfoy was in front of him and had just saved him from being mercilessly harassed by the completely mental. "A body bind, ladies?" Draco's sarcastic drawl resounded in the hall and snapped Harry out of his stupor. "That's very… un-Gryffindor of you," he finished harshly, eyes narrowing particularly at Lavender Brown, who had also snapped out of her own stupor and had started to turn a very dark shade of red. Harry had almost forgotten just how mean Draco could look like. Lavender, however, was starting to look like his Aunt Marge when he accidentally spilled coffee on her dog when Harry was eight years old. Lavender straightened her back and glared, nose upturning. "Back off, Malfoy! We don't need Death Eater scum here!" And amidst the few, shocked gasps, Harry heard the blood rushing in his ears. In front of him, he could see Draco's sharp intake of breath and the minute change in his expression – like his world had just crashed down upon him. But it was gone as soon as it had appeared, to be replaced by his mask of indifference and yet Harry still felt like punching someone or kicking someone in the shin or – or – breaking his knuckles again on a tree, because he didn't hit girls. Fucking hypocrites! Harry thought angrily, and the chandelier floating above them broke into pieces and rained shards on them. The girls screamed and some ran away with their arms above their ducked heads. Harry didn't even feel sorry – he was absolutely shaking with anger as he stood up from his position on the floor and rounded on Lavender. How dare you? Harry mouthed, his frustration building even more when no sound came out. That's exactly the kind of thing that those Death Eaters you hate so much would say! The war is over! Lavender stared at him fearfully, eyes wide as she looked at his blazing green eyes. She could see his mouth moving to form angry words but she couldn't hear anything and that in turn made her more nervous. Another crash resounded in the hall and more broken shards of glass fell upon them noisily. Draco watched all this with wide eyes and a bewildered expression, taking in the image of a furious Harry shaking with suppressed fury and magic. "Harry –" Draco started, forcing his voice out to reach the other boy. It worked. Harry snapped back as if in shock, his body going stiffly straight. Draco couldn't see his face since Harry had his back turned, but he could see Lavender's. He didn't know what happened, maybe Harry said something or at least, mouthed something – probably an apology – that had Lavender wiping her wet eyes and nodding quickly through her sniffles. She glanced over Harry's shoulder to look at Draco, but after that, she immediately scurried away. Then, Harry turned but Draco still couldn't see his face because he had his head ducked down. His body remained stiff and Draco could see Harry's hands still shaking because Draco notices stuff like that, especially about Harry, who was walking towards him now and Draco actually held his breath in – fear? Nervousness? …Hope? But Harry just walked past him, sending a light breeze to blow softly by Draco's cheek, and Draco was left there, amidst the broken shards of glass that resembled the state of his heart ever since his mother had told him through tears that he was scheduled to take the Dark Mark. Draco actually wondered why he even bothered to look for Harry bloody Potter. It wasn't like Potter would welcome his company or something. …But that's just it. Draco hoped that Harry would. Finding him was easy enough. The only place that Harry could go to nowadays without the danger of being mobbed by students who sucked at minding their own business was the same place that had recently become Draco's favorite. Harry had the gall to look surprised! As if he didn't expect Draco to come after him. Soon enough, the surprise gave way to an expression of mixed regret and embarrassment. With a sniff and haughtily raised eyebrow, Draco walked over to him and gracefully sat himself down on the chair beside him. Immediately, Harry opened his mouth to say (or at least try to say) something stupid like sorry and the like so Draco saved him from further humiliation by quickly raising a hand up. Harry obediently shut his mouth, looking remorseful and just very put-out. It made Draco's lips quirk up in amusement. Just a bit. "Sod it, Potter," he said smoothly, relaxing in his chair. Harry opened his mouth again, only to close it immediately after. If it was because he didn't know what to say or because, well, he couldn't really speak (but as if that's ever stopped him), Draco would never know, but when Harry opened his mouth again, Draco quickly cut him off. "Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it," he said firmly. Harry looked rather affronted. "And spare me your horrid handwriting. I want functional vocal chords and complete, grammatically correct sentences. In English." Draco sniffed at the air haughtily. "If that means that I have to suffer with hearing your voice, then alas, one cannot have everything." Then, he added, more softly. "I'll listen when you can properly speak." Throughout his speech, Harry had looked at him in incredulity, then amusement, then – well… Draco didn't know what that last expression was. If Draco dared, he would think it was… affection. But no. That was impossible. Slowly but surely, Harry's shoulders started to relax, until he was slumped against the chair in his usual careless manner. Even if it was an utter lack of decorum and social grace, it was what Draco preferred. Then again, it wasn't very hard pleasing him nowadays, especially since the one doing so was Harry and that sort of set the whole standard. Harry gave a soundless laugh, the tension easing away from his body until Draco felt rather smug and very satisfied with himself. They probably looked rather weird – Savior of the Wizarding World and a former Death Eater sitting beside each other at the back of the library under a window with sunlight that made their hair shine and their eyes brighter. But Draco didn't feel it was weird at all. It was only during these moments that he could feel once again that he was just Draco. Not with the expectations and repercussions of being Lucius Malfoy's son. He settled more comfortably in his chair. "For now, just sit there and shut up. I like you better when you can't defend yourself from my clever wit." Grinning, Harry just rolled his eyes and took out his quill. Draco almost started his 'what did I say about sparing me from your horrid handwriting?' speech when he realized that Harry wasn't taking out any parchment. Instead, Harry directed the sharp nub of his quill to the table and slowly carved out a word. Git. The next day, it was Draco who started the conversation. "Still not speaking, Potter?" Harry, who had just arrived and was in the middle of sitting down, flopped ungraciously on the chair in surprise at the question. Draco's amused smile did little to ease his embarrassment. He shook his head. "How many days has it been?" Draco asked with a little exasperation and haughtiness in his voice. Harry raised his fingers, but then remembered that he only had ten and he was pretty sure that ten days had already went by and passed him. He opted for mouthing it instead, but ended up closing his mouth shortly afterwards. Draco's eyebrow quirked up in amusement. Harry shoved a hand in his pocket, took out the Self-Erasing Parchment and the Self-Inking Quill and wrote. You know, I'm not really sure. Thirteen? "You must be mental to keep that up for so long," Draco muttered in reply, still staring at the Parchment thoughtfully. I agree, Harry wrote with a snort. Draco leaned back in his chair. "Still no plans on taking that Jinx off you then?" he asked coolly. Harry flushed. He knew that Draco wasn't asking whether he would go to Ginny and beg for mercy. (Not that it'd work, anyway.) He shook his head. "How long are you going to keep doing this?" Draco asked with an expression of incredulity. Harry paused. He didn't really know the answer to that one. Actually, he did: Not long, hopefully, but he wasn't really in charge of this one. Until Ginny realizes that she has a human conscience after all, he wrote instead. Draco rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "And you can't just go and snog this girl because?" Because he's not a girl, Harry thought wryly. On the Parchment, he wrote, I like my bits intact. Alright, so that threw away Draco's exasperation. Draco found himself smiling a bit. And Harry kind of wished that he chose something else to say, because it really was awkward talking about his bits with the person he'd been pathetically pining after for years. And then Draco asked softly. "It's not a girl, is it?" And Harry just wished that he never got out of bed this morning at all. Well, no, not really. Not getting out of bed meant that he didn't get to see Draco, but – he supposed it would be fine, if it meant not having Awkward Conversations about his bits and sexuality with Draco Malfoy. But still, Harry couldn't bring himself to lie. With his face burning, he slowly shook his head. "I suppose it's not Finch-Fletchley," Draco mused thoughtfully, as if oblivious to Harry's internal turmoil. Harry cringed at the prospect. "He's been sending you smoldering looks for the past week and you haven't given him a second glance," Draco said wryly. "Or a first." Harry shook his head vehemently. "It's not…" At this, Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "The Weasel, is it?" Harry looked at him in horror. Draco visibly relaxed. "Alright, then." He continued listing through the male population of Hogwarts. "Who else would hex your bits off though? I mean, everyone –" Draco meant this, as he glanced at Harry's flustered form. "— would love a piece of Harry Potter." Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. He didn't really care about everyone, nor did he believe what Draco just said. Still, he thought miserably, Not everyone. "Even the Slytherins," Draco added as an afterthought. Then, he blinked. "Is he a Slytherin? Only a Slytherin would want to hex your bits off. Not that they do anymore, but you know, stereotypically speaking." Harry quickly scrabbled for the Self-Erasing Parchment. ARE WE REALLY GOING TO TALK ABOUT MY POTENTIAL LOVE-INTERESTS, he wrote, not really meaning the capital letters but it was just that his hand deemed it appropriate. Draco raised an eyebrow at the hasty capitalization. "Touchy," he murmured with amusement. "I'm just trying to help here, Potter," he said casually. As easy as that, Harry felt guilt wash over him in waves as he wrote on the corner of the Parchment. I know. Sorry. And as easy as that, Draco felt the same waves of guilt crash down on him. He cleared his throat loudly. "Quite alright, Potter," he said. "I was only teasing." He was certainly not about to apologize for teasing Potter. It was just not done. Nevertheless, Harry's cheeky smile told him he was forgiven. During Potions, Harry sat next to Draco. It may have been because he liked being close to Draco or because it was the only seat left. Hermione and Ron knew better though. Even Ron was grinning madly in a smug way. (This was at least after he had finished his shudder of horrified disgust, which was more out of obligation than his actual dislike for Malfoy.) Harry didn't listen to Slughorn at all during that lesson. He didn't mean to really, but he guessed it was okay, because that meant he can ask Draco about it later. Draco also did not listen to Slughorn at all during that lesson. This was on purpose, because really, Harry Potter was sitting beside him, and Harry Potter had sat beside him before but this time was different because Draco was different and he's feelings things that he already told himself he wasn't supposed to feel. But it's okay if he wasn't listening; Snape had been a great mentor to him after all. Draco didn't know what possessed him to write such a thing on Harry's Self-Erasing Parchment that was laid carelessly on top of their table (just in case Harry needed to write something urgent). Maybe it was because of the sudden memory of Snape, or maybe because Slughorn is a good professor but not Snape (he was great), or maybe it was because he was paired up with Harry again for the first time since he took the Dark Mark. Or maybe it was because Harry was sitting too close and smelling too much of soap and Quidditch and grass and mornings, and it makes Draco think unclearly. I wish Severus was still alive,he wrote. Harry did not know what to do with such and sudden honesty. He stared at the Parchment, at Draco's curving handwriting, and wanted to give something of himself in return. He thought about Snape, too. He thought about Snape being the most cold-hearted professor that Hogwarts has ever seen and about Snape not being so cold-hearted after all. He thought about all the times he had been angry at the man, and all the times that he had been saved by him. They weren't the best of friends, that was for sure, but… I wish I appreciated him more when he was alive, he wrote. Draco smiled fondly. When he and Harry parted ways, he to Arithmancy and Harry with his friends to Transfiguration, Draco realized three things: He couldn't lie to himself that he wasn't in love with Harry Potter anymore. Hogwarts was still not as safe as Dumbledore had once upon a time wished it to be. And Stinging Hexes, on the other hand, were still as painful as Draco remembered them to be. Harry thought that he might be dreaming. After all, he hadn't been this happy since Sirius died. He had this little fear that something must be up if things were going so well for him because things never go well for him. It was like an unwritten rule in the way of life. In retrospect, he really shouldn't have felt so downtrodden when Draco didn't turn up in the library during dinner. A part of Harry thought that he should probably rejoice, because maybe this might mean that Draco was returning back to civilization and eating in the Great Hall again but a greater part of Harry knew that this was (in a small, minute way) wishful thinking. So with his heart beating nervously in his chest, he rounded the corner and headed straight for the Hospital Wing. When he arrived at the Hospital Wing, Draco was there, alright, even though Harry could only see his white-blond hair. Madame Pomfrey was standing beside Draco's bed, her back turned to Harry who realized that the Mediwitch's shoulders were actually… shaking. "Such insolence, I ought to give them Stinging Hexes and see what they think about it –" she was muttering, and this was already a very serious thing because Madame Pomfrey swore an oath to heal, not the other way around, but Harry wasn't thinking about the irony of this because all he could think about was the blood rushing in his ears and Stinging Hexes and Draco – Madame Pomfrey turned around, having sensed his presence, and she blinked in surprise. Though her back was still stiff, her shoulders relaxed at the sight of him. "Mister Potter," she said kindly. "Yes?" And Harry would apologize for what happened next, really he would, because Madame Pomfrey had finally stepped aside and Harry could finally look at Draco and see the angry, red welt marking a path on the pale skin of the side of his neck, from his jaw to hide under the collar of his cloak and if Harry closed his eyes, he could imagine what it looked like before Madame Pomfrey did her fancy wand-waving, bleeding and open and red – A window broke. Madame Pomfrey jumped in surprise, breathing out a high-pitched "Dear Merlin!", and clutching Draco's bed sheets in her fists. Draco was looking paler than ever, and he looked at Harry with wide eyes, shocked and a little – scared…? Harry took one step back, ashamed and face burning with both embarrassment and anger. He closed his eyes, dug his nails into his palm and desperately tried to calm down, but it was difficult with the magic running beneath his skin and sending sparks all over and his blood still rushing in his ears. He shot Madame Pomfrey a desperate, apologetic look, and the glass shards of the window fixed itself again on the window pane. Without looking at Draco, Harry turned away and walked out of the Hospital Wing, shameful and at the same time burning with rage. Harry had already traveled to the Astronomy Tower and then to the Great Lake before he was confident that his head was a whole lot clearer. When he returned to the castle, he was just tired and ready to sleep this all away. The darkness and echoing quiet of the hallways of Hogwarts calmed him, despite his thoughts of the war and Voldemort and Draco and Stinging Hexes. He just felt defeated somewhat, like all his fight had been for nothing. No – it wasn't for nothing. After all, Voldemort was dead and his soul had been thrown away to burn for all eternity but – did it really make a difference? There was no madman going around killing half-bloods with an army of blood purists, but Harry felt like that was the only thing that changed. He didn't expect the wizarding world to suddenly change their views on muggleborns like a switch at the death of Voldemort, but he also didn't expect… this – "—don't have the Dark Mark to brandish around anymore, do you? Still haven't learned your lesson yet, eh, Malfoy?" Harry's blood ran cold. Laughter rang through the halls and made Harry's ears itch. It came from just around the corner and he almost didn't want to step forward in fear that what he might see will trigger his magic to run wild and uncontrollable again but Draco – "You're not doing a very good job, you see," came Draco's bored drawl but Harry wasn't listening, not anymore, because his feet were taking him forward, and he rounded the corner just in time to see a burly seventh-year raise his wand in agitation and press the tip of it deep against the bruising welt on Draco's neck and Harry saw Draco's wince and heard Draco's sharp hiss and thought – Draco. The chandelier broke. I didn't fight the fucking war for this. It seemed very dramatic, the way that the glass shards rained down on them like sparkling snow, but it wasn't like that at all, at least, not how Harry saw it because what he saw was the seventh-year's head turn as if in slow motion and the look of horror and fear slowly spread across his face the moment he laid eyes on Harry Potter through the rain of glass. What Harry would remember was the way that Draco's head turned sharply towards him in shock, and how the seventh-year stepped back in fear before completely about-facing and running away with a yell that Harry would keep on hearing that night as he laid in bed. When the last of the glass shards had fallen, and all that was left was the broken glass on the floor and the darkness of the hall, Harry felt like his throat had clogged up. When he finally mustered the courage, he looked up at Draco and he had already stepped one step forward to make sure if the other was okay – but Draco was looking at him with wide eyes and a set jaw and he looked… torn? Harry also didn't expect this either. He may be a Gryffindor, but he had never forgotten that the Sorting Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin once upon a time, and at that moment, his Slytherin sense of self-preservation was easily winning against his Gryffindor courage, and so it was with shaking legs that Harry turned tail and ran away. Harry entered the Gryffindor common room, which was empty except for the three figures by the fire. Hermione and Ginny both sprung up from their respective chairs and on their feet, faces glowing and expectant and grins big and smug, and that only served to make him feel more miserable. From his position sitting on the carpet, even Ron stopped writing his Potions' essay and looked at him with expectation like a child waiting for his gifts on Christmas. Harry took out his Self-Erasing Parchment and his Self-Inking Quill and sat down beside Ron. Hermione, he wrote. Hermione and Ginny shared a curious glance, before Hermione sat down on the carpet as well, lending comfort. Even Ron gave Harry a worried look. It was with misery that Harry wrote out the next words. Can you Reparo a chandelier for me? He doesn't like me, Ginny, Harry wrote on the Parchment slowly an hour later, as if he really didn't want to write it at all. Actually, he really didn'twant to write it at all. He had spent the last hour being generally quiet (which was easy, really) and even attempting to retreat to the sanctity of the Boys' Dorms, but his friends were having none of that. It felt embarrassing to be writing something like this, and it felt like a child crying to his mom what the big bully did to him, but Ginny was standing by the fireplace, arms crossed and determined frown on place, and her hair shone brighter and redder as the fire burned stronger, reminding Harry that this was a Weasley he was talking to. He kept his eyes glued on his handwriting stubbornly, ignoring Ginny's huff from beside him. "You don't know that," she insisted, crossing her arms. "Come off it, Gin." It was Hermione who spoke, her voice quiet and soft. "You don't know either." Ginny's lips pressed together more tightly. Harry sunk lower on the couch, sulky. Then, Ron spoke what they had all been thinking but didn't want to bring up: "Take the Jinx off him, Gin," he said with a sigh, but his eyes stared unnervingly at his sister, just as stubbornly as she stared back. "No." "There's no reason for you to keep him like this anymore!" Ron exclaimed, exasperated. Harry felt even more miserable, having his friends fight his battles for him just because he lacked the voice to. Hermione glanced at Harry, and then bit her lip. "I'm going to write Molly," she whispered. All eyes snapped to her, and Ginny blinked, shocked and then betrayed. Her lips pursed, and her eyes went suspiciously bright. "No, I'm not taking the Jinx off Harry," she said firmly, before stalking away towards the Girls' Dormitories, stomping as she went. Ron looked a bit red, but maybe that was because of the fireplace. He looked at Harry apologetically, and Harry shrugged and wondered if he'll ever get his voice again. In retrospect, maybe Harry should have done this in the first place just to get things over with. He'd probably have a bruised face and an even more bruised ego, and maybe even be rendered impotent forever, but that was inevitable from the beginning, wasn't it? At least, from the moment that Ginny had decided it was a good idea to hit him with the Lip-Lock Jinx while he was in mid-air, thus sending him to the infirmary at the same time that Draco was in there. Well, it wasn't like the Lip-Lock Jinx experience had been that bad… After all, he did enjoy half a month with Draco, and maybe they were even friends now. Harry just didn't know if they would still remain friends after what he was about to do. Probably not. The next day, Harry woke up with a headache and a stomach feeling like lead. Nevertheless, he was decided that he wasn't going to spend the morning wallowing in self-pity and hiding from the rest of the world. That would be for the afternoon. That morning, he got out of bed, took a longshower in an effort to calm his nerves, got dressed, brushed his teeth, and tried to brush his hair. (He failed at that last one.) Then, still feeling like how Ron must have felt when he vomited slugs in second year, he marched towards the library. Draco looked as immaculate as ever, sitting under that arched window with a book open in his hands. The sunlight bounced off white-blond hair and Harry didn't think that it was possible to fall in love again. As soon as the butterflies rose in his stomach, it fell into an acidic death as Harry thought pitifully that he was doomed. If he was this smitten, then what hope did he have to forget his feelings after… well, after this? Half of him hoped that Draco would be blunt and brutal. That would make it easier for him to forget. Draco had started on a new book titled Potions, Jinxes and Hexes: Laws of Attraction. It was definitely not about love magic. He had been sitting there for the past half hour already and hadn't quite gotten past the third sentence of the first page yet, but he kept his eyes firmly on the paper and not on the shelves where Harry usually appeared from with a shy grin and a tray of breakfast. There were days when Draco would let himself believe that he could get used to this, that he could allow himself to. He wanted to believe that Harry would do, that they'd keep doing this even after they've graduated and maybe more – but he would crush that thought quickly because it wouldn't do good to dwell on petty wishes and dreams. That's what his whole life had been about, right? His father had told him countless of times that he was foolish for still wanting to befriend Harry Potter after the boy had refused his hand during first year, so Draco stopped mentioning it. His aunt Bellatrix would pull him aside, press her nails against his forearm, and whisper to him to forget all about Hogwarts and his friends and just be a good boy. He was a good boy – until the end, when he refused to identify Harry in the Manor. The wizarding world already considered him bad. After that incident, the dark side considered him bad too and not the approved kind. Draco knew that that was what this was all about. Harry felt like he owed some kind of wizarding debt to him, or he just couldn't help playing the hero once more and saving the disgraced victim of the war. Draco didn't mind. He'd take what he could. Then Harry sat down beside him. Draco almost dropped the book on the table, barely managing to save it from making a loud noise that would surely attract Madame Pince and ruin their hiding place. (Not that it was actually hidden.) Harry's shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were wide and green and nervous as they stared at the table. It was that that made Draco know that this morning wasn't going to be like the rest, aside from the fact that Harry didn't have any treacle tart with him. Draco knew that Harry expected him to talk about what happened yesterday. Draco wanted to – but not right now. Right now he really wanted to enjoy his morning because Harry's eyes always looked much more beautiful in the early morning. "You look like shite, Potter," he commented airily, placing the book on the table in front of him, opened somewhere in the middle so that it didn't look like he'd been stuck on page one for the past half hour. He turned to Harry and made a show of raking his eyes disapprovingly down Harry's form. "Not that it surprises me anymore, really, because you've always looked like –" And Draco thought that this morning really wasn't going to be like other mornings because it was then that Harry's eyes turned to him and they were unusually brighter than normal and Draco realized that oh – Harry was kissing him. Harry placed his lips on top of Draco's, and it felt wonderful, and soft and chapped and gentle and Draco's world shattered. He wasn't even aware that a tear had fallen down his cheek unsuspectingly until he tasted it and he summoned all his strength and frustration and punched Harry – hard – in the face. Harry felt the wind blow out of him as his head whipped back and the side of his body hit the edge of the table painfully. "Then get hit," Ginny had once said. Easy for her to say, thought Harry bitterly with a wince. She's not the one with the broken nose. He had expected that hit, but it still hurt. He could take the punch, or even the broken nose, just not… how Draco was standing in front of him, looking down at him with such anger that he was almost shaking. The tear that Harry had fleetingly tasted was nowhere to be found now, only a hard-set jaw and shoulders shaking with fury. An unusual silence filled the library, and Harry could feel it heavy on his shoulders. He couldn't look at Draco, couldn't even raise his eyes. All he could do was bow his head in apology and run his tongue once more across his bottom lip and remember how wonderful Draco felt and tasted beneath his lips. He didn't even taste the blood. When Draco spoke, it was sharp and hissed. "I'm not a fucking charity case," he said, and it sounded broken even to his own ears. Harry could feel his eyes watering. Maybe it was because of the pain in his face or from somewhere in his chest, but whatever it was, it made his vision blurrier than usual. "No," he rasped out, and it sounded painful to his ears. His throat hurt, after having not spoken in a long time, but Harry forced it to anyway because he needed to say this, needed to tell Draco. He stood up, met Draco's bewildered eyes and looked almost desperately in it. "No," he whispered. "You're not." And that was all Harry could take – his feet decided the rest for him. His legs took him away, and he was so intent on leaving and never looking back that he almost didn't hear Draco say his name. "Harry," Draco whispered. When Harry turned back, gone were the anger and fury that once held Draco's shoulders stiff. What replaced them were shock and bewilderment. "You – you're speaking," Draco breathed out in amazement, eyes wide. Then, his mind caught on, and he let out a small gasp of realization. Harry smiled at him weakly. "Yeah," he said, but he didn't know what exactly he was agreeing to or both. "Sorry, sorry, I'll –" he stopped, finding that he couldn't find his voice again but not because of some jinx. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and tried for his voice not to break once more. "I'll stay away," he whispered instead. He turned away, his heart eating itself and his whole body tense and wanting to leave before he made an even more fool of himself, but Draco called his name again, this time almost pleadingly. "Harry." When Harry turned back again, Draco's shoulders were now slumped in defeat and tiredness, but his face showed determination as bright eyes stared into Harry's – Hopeful. "If I'm not a charity case," he murmured, continuing their earlier conversation. He blinked his eyes to keep them dry. "What am I then?" And Harry could feel the lump again in his throat now, though it wasn't because of the underuse of his voice. He had a lot of replies to that, a lot of answers, but his nose was still bleeding and he couldn't get rid of the look of betrayal on Draco's face from his mind's eye, so he opted for the safest answer. "A friend," he murmured. Their eyes remained level with each other, even after Draco asked his next question. "Maybe more?" It was embarrassing how Draco's voice broke off at the end of that sentence because he wanted nothing else. Somewhere in the silence and the look of cautious hope in Draco's expression, Harry forced his courage up little by little. "Definitely more," he breathed out. It felt wonderful to say it out loud, though maybe that was because Harry could finally say things out loud after more than half a month, but no, no, it wasn't. And Draco was walking up to him, closing the distance between them in one, two strides and he was cupping Harry's face gently, his fingers smeared with blood, and Harry couldn't believe it. "Sorry," Draco whispered, his breath ghosting against Harry's lips. He blinked his eyes rapidly to fight back the tears and swallowed to push his heart back down from his throat. "Sorry, I'll fix that," he muttered, his voice breaking off at the end once again. He scrambled for his wand in his pocket with one hand but the other never left Harry's cheek. With a few whispered words, Harry's nose righted itself with a snap and the blood disappeared from Harry's face. Harry winced, but that still didn't lessen the shock at having Draco so close, and if Harry just moved a little bit, then their lips would touch again and they'd kiss and – Draco moved. Harry couldn't resist his eyelids fluttering closed or the sound of pure contentment that rose from him as Draco pressed their lips together for the second time. He hovered there, as if hesitant, but Harry pressed back eagerly and the moment's hesitation was gone. Draco pried Harry's lips apart gently with his own, experimentally sliding his tongue across Harry's bottom lip. Harry flushed; he had no idea about French kissing. He and Ginny had never gotten that far, but – but oh. All thoughts of Ginny fled from his head as Draco slipped his tongue past Harry's lips, caressing Harry's tongue, and that was all Harry could feel along Draco's warm hand on his cheek and it was wonderful. With one last swipe at Harry's bottom lip, Draco pulled away, his face flushed. "Was that…" he asked weakly, turning a darker shade of red. "Yes," Harry said, breathless and flushed as well. "Yes, it was okay. Amazing." Draco's answering smile rivaled the morning sun. "I'm sorry I didn't bring breakfast," Harry muttered awkwardly, giving a shy smile. "Breakfast's probably over." "That's okay," Draco said. "It's Saturday. You can call your house elf friends of yours and we'll stay here." Harry grinned. "You want to stay here all day?" "Yes," Draco answered immediately and flushed afterwards. Harry couldn't resist. He kissed Draco again. Later that night, when dinner had went and gone by after being secretly spent in the library, Harry trodded up to the Gryffindor Tower with a skip in his step and a smile on his face. "Hullo, everyone!" he greeted as soon as the Fat Lady's Portrait swung open. Ginny fell out of her seat. Ron stood up from his. Lavender cried out in shock and stomped over to him like a girl on a mission but was stopped when Hermione swiftly cast a Total Body-bind. (Neville winced, because he knew how that felt.) Ron took one look at Harry's grinning face before sharing with him an air high-five and a very manly fist pump. Ten minutes later, Lavender was finally deposited into the Girls' Dormitories by a well-said threat from Hermione. Ginny finally snapped out of her stupor and proceeded to hop around the room sideways in joy. And Ron finally realized what this whole thing meant and paled at the prospect and just the general wrongness of now having to be around Draco Malfoy 24/7. "I still don't get why the Weaslette jinxed you," Draco said the next day, peering curiously at his pudding. Once again, they were having breakfast in the library and once again, Harry couldn't keep his eyes off Draco and how the sunlight bounced off his hair. "Don't call her that," Harry said automatically. "Old habits die hard," Draco replied with a wry smile. Harry couldn't help the answering smile that crept up on his face. "She wanted me to come up to you and kiss you." Draco raised an eyebrow, but an amused, mischievous smile made its way to his lips. "And you couldn't have done that in the beginning because…?" They've talked about this before, Harry was sure, but he just couldn't remember because the way Draco ate pudding was so distracting… "You hate me," he blurted out. Then he realized what he just did and flushed in embarrassment. Draco's expression softened, all hints of mischief gone. "I'm not sure if I ever did," he murmured, repeating Harry's own words from a few days ago. Harry stared at him, disbelieving. "The Weasel's another story though," Draco continued on thoughtfully. "Why?" "But not anymore," Draco admitted, not answering the question because he didn't like talking about the handshake incident. "What if I didn't return your feelings?" Harry paused, blinking. Then he turned to Draco again, eyebrows furrowed with worry and looking almost vulnerable. "Err – do you?" he asked awkwardly. Just like that, Draco's mood lifted. He put his pudding down, leaned in and pressed his lips against Harry's for the umpteenth time in two days. Harry immediately pressed back, parting his lips slightly as an indication of what he wanted. Draco fulfilled it without preamble, thinking of just how it was possible that Harry did not know that Draco did when Harry's the one that's basically occupied Draco's mind since first year. "You can cast the Lip-Lock Jinx on me," Draco said when he pulled away, just a little bit. He licked his own lips, tasting Harry. "See if it works. I certainly wouldn't mind," he added, smirking. Harry rolled his eyes. He took Draco's hand and gingerly guided the long fingers to trace the one word etched on the wood of their table. Git. Draco looked satisfied with himself. "I suppose I'll have to thank the Weaslette for this," he said thoughtfully. "For hexing me mid-air and rendering me mute for more than a fortnight?" Harry asked suspiciously. "I always did live to torment you," Draco quipped. A smile broke out on Harry's face at that. He glanced at the word 'git' on the table and tapped it with his finger. "I'll miss the Self-Erasing Parchment though," Harry mused, glancing sideways at Draco with a grin. "Brilliant thing." Draco thought about kissing Harry again and hearing Harry's confession coming from those lips. He looked into bright, green eyes and smiled softly. "I won't."

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