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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

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All Men Have Limits - VII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warning: Mention of domestic violence

Previously on…

“The Court is holding session two weeks from now,” Y/N announced to the group.

“How do we know they’re going through with it after all the recent attention?” Damian challenged.

“They haven’t missed one in over over 20 years.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dick asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, “We need a diversion.”

“Diversion?” Jason asked.

She nodded. “The Court has two kinds of protection: the Talons and then the protection they either buy or blackmail. The Talons are at every meeting, making sure nothing goes down and protecting The Court.”

Y/N eyed all of them before continuing – except for Bruce. The two of them hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Y/N hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“We need to do something to drag the Talons away from The Court – something big,” Y/N clarified.

“Like what?” Tim asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just awkwardly shifted her weight.

“No,” Dick shut down, being the first to put it together.

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

By now the rest of them had figured out that Y/N wished to put herself in danger once again.

“They almost killed you,” Dick started to get heated.

“Yeah, and they’re even more anxious to kill me after the trouble we caused them. We all know it. The quickest way to get the Talons out of hiding is to dangle me in right front of their faces. Make it so easy that they can’t say no.”

They all went quiet.

“It’s a good idea,” Jason broke the silence.

Jason wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He was brutally honest. Also, he wasn’t scared of a risk.

Dick glared at him.

But to his surprise, so did Bruce.

“We don’t use our own as bait,” Bruce finally spoke for the first time.

But he wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s vicinity.

That didn’t stop Y/N from rolling her eyes at ‘our own,’ as if she were actually treated the same as everyone in this family.

“Fine,” she snapped. “So what’s your genius plan for getting the Talons away from The Court and where we want them?”

Bruce was quiet, but clearly because he was thinking.

“B, we only have two weeks to get this together,” Dick tried to reason.

Y/N just continued, “While we’re distracting the Talons, the FBI and Gotham PD can raid The Court’s meeting. Security will be at an all-time low and they won’t be able to fight their way out with the distraction of a Talon defense.”

“We can think of another way,” Bruce said. Then he addressed all boys, “We’re heading out for patrol in 15.”

Dick stood up to join them.

To everyone’s shock Y/N and Bruce simultaneously said, “You’re staying here.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still injured,” Y/N argued. “You’re stitches aren’t even out yet.”

“You’re staying here with Y/N,” Bruce added on.

Tim, Damian, and Jason all looked at each other in amusement from seeing Bruce and Y/N gain up on Dick.

Bruce muttered out radiuses at the other three boys for patrolling.

“Just to be clear, I’m going back to being a lone wolf when this Court of Owls bullshit is over with,” Jason announced. “But I have to admit, the drama is entertaining.”

“Aww! Come on, J! You know you love the quality family time,” Tim teased.

“I personally can’t wait for him to go away,” Damian mumbled.

“Do you know what a swirly is?” Jason asked the youngest boy.

“No.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Damian looked at Tim for some kind of hint. But Tim just aggressively shook his head in warning.

“Enough,” Bruce warned, but he wasn’t all that annoyed.

When they all left for patrol, Y/N walked to her computers.

“What are you doing?” Dick questioned.

She gave him a look, “Uhhh…doing my job?”

“You did your job,” he countered. “Give yourself a break.”

Y/N knew he was technically right. She already had everything they needed to show the FBI and Gotham PD in order to take down The Court of Owls. Now they just had to wait – even if Bruce wasn’t on board with Y/N’s plan on playing bait.

“Plus,” Dick smirked. “I need someone to entertain me.”

She playfully glared at him. “Oh, I see. So this isn’t about me needing a break. It’s about you needing attention.”

He had no shame. “Maybe.”

Y/N shook her head at his ridiculous, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about I teach you some self defense?” Dick offered.

“Dick! What part of ‘you’re recovering’ is so hard for you to understand?”

He had the audacity to laugh at her reaction. “Fine. Fine. But you should learn a few things at some point.”

Then Dick started walking to the training area, specifically where all the gymnastics equipment was.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone using it while she was down there, but she assumed it was mostly for Dick.

Without warning, Dick did a press handstand mount on the balance beam, and then he held the handstand.

“Dick! Stop!” Y/N said in a panic.

And she did exactly what he wanted, leaving her computer and walking down to where he was on the balance beam.

“What?” He shrugged as he now stood on the balance beam. “It’s just a handstand. Relax.”

“I swear to god, Dick Grayson, if you do a fucking flip on that thing…”

“You’ll what?” He challenged with a smirk. “Come up here and stop me.”

Y/N crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fine. I will.”

Dick was beaming from his success.

Y/N might not be a gymnast or a vigilante the same way as all of them, but she wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to athletics. She managed to lift herself up enough to sit on the balance beam.

However, standing up was an entirely different thing.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“You got it,” Dick encouraged.

But he was still walking across towards her as if the thing was a runway.

“Have these things always been this fucking narrow? I thought it was like width of bleacher seats.”

Dick chuckled as he offered her a hand.

“I got you. Come on,” he urged her softly.

Y/N slowly stood on the balance beam, but gripped Dick’s hands tightly.

“I have some newfound respect,” she laughed lightly as she looked down at their feet.

“Harder than it looks,” Dick agreed.

“Do you think you could’ve gone to the Olympics?” Y/N genuinely asked.

He shrugged, “Who knows. Probably not.”

But Y/N knew he was most likely being modest.

Then Dick let go of her hands to grip her waist, “Try walking.”

“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing. You know, like the scene where they’re working on lifts and walking across the log in the woods.”

He smiled.

Y/N lost her balance a little bit and panicked.

But Dick’s grip on her waist was strong. “You’re OK. I got you.”

It was hard to focus on balancing and walking when his gentle voice said things like that to her, making her stomach drop and her heartbeat quicken.

And it all proved to be too much when Y/N really lost her balance and there was no stopping her from falling. She shoved into Dick too hard, making him lose his grip as well.

But as they fell, Dick quickly maneuvered their bodies so he took the fall and caged her body protectively.

Y/N instantly sat up in hysterics.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you OK?” Y/N cried out as her eyes went down to where he still had stitches, half expecting blood to be on his t-shirt from the wound reopening.

But Dick was laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” She slapped his chest.

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N.”

She couldn’t keep her own amusement in check much longer and started laughing along with him.

But then Dick’s phone lit up and vibrated beside them. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they fell.

Y/N didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes couldn’t stop from reading the name ‘Barbara Gordon’ on the screen.

Her smile dropped for some reason.

But Dick didn’t see the problem.

He casually reached over and looked at the message.

Y/N moved off of Dick. “Texting your ex?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the framing of her question. “Do you know every woman I’ve ever dated?”

She smirked at that. “Maybe.”

“Yes, I am. She’s a friend.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t really have any ex-boyfriends. Just…” she hesitated, “people I’ve hooked up with or whatever.”

Dick nodded slowly.

“Why hasn’t she been around?” Y/N changed the subject quickly.

“She’s been working her own case – had to go undercover for awhile.”

She nodded. But wasn’t looking at him as they talked now.

“You know…just because that’s what’s happened in the past doesn’t mean that it always has to be that way,” he told her quietly.

“Easy for you to say.”

Dick winced a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze finally moved up from the floor to his. “You’re a serial monogamist. Being in relationships is easy for you.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Dick couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You think I don’t know how to be alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly defended.

“But that’s what you were implying.”

Y/N got up from the mats and started to leave.

“No. Don’t do that,” Dick caught her arm.

“Do what?” She challenged as she pulled her arm away from him.

“Don’t make up problems that don’t exist, Y/N.”

She huffed at that.

“Yeah, I’ve been in serious relationships for most of my life. Not because I didn’t know how to be alone, but because I loved them.” He shook his head. “I know men have treated you like shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same.”

“What are we even talking about, Dick?” She shot back.

How did they get from messing around on a balance beam to discussing their non-existent relationship?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Act like it.”

It wasn’t until now that Dick saw how Bruce and Y/N were similar. He’d never met anyone else that could push people away like they did. But it was clear they both thought it was easier and less complicated to isolate themselves.

Maybe that’s why they gravitated toward each other. Like if the faced it together than they were cheating their way out of their own rules.

Except Dick couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N’s life could look like with someone who really loved her, who showed her that she didn’t have to face the world alone. Obviously he wanted to be that person for her. But his ego wasn’t too proud to allow someone else to do that for her. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Dick, I can’t–”

But he didn’t let her say another word, and his lips crashed against hers.

She tried to be stubborn and pull away, but he wasn’t letting her get away.

Dick deepened the kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the gala. It wasn’t innocent and soft. No, this was filled with fire and infatuation.

Dick wasn’t being polite anymore. His hands slipped under her t-shirt to grasp her waist, needing to feel her and refusing to allow fabric between his touch and her skin.

Maybe he was trying to prove something to Y/N now.

But just when Y/N was about to push it further, Dick pulled away.

Their lips were both swollen.

And he kept close to her, tempting her with another kiss – but not giving in.

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” His voice was raspy.

Eventually he’d push her to talk about them. For now, he’d let her figure things out.

“But don’t convince yourself that I’m no one to you.”

———————

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was restless.

She knew Dick had been right: she was trying to point out issues that didn’t exist, picking unnecessary fights.

Getting Dick frustrated was a great way to stop herself from actually reflecting on how she was starting to feel about him.

Instead of tossing and turning in bed, Y/N decided to go to the library. She hadn’t spent much time there – too busy practically living in cave. But it had intrigued her since she arrived. It was so beautiful, and even large enough to hide in.

She was a hour or so into a book she grabbed from the shelves when someone cleared their throat.

Y/N jumped in fright and looked up to see Bruce leaning against one of the book shelves.

His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Clearly he’d just taken a shower.

“You’re back early,” she noted.

It wasn’t even 4AM yet.

“Quiet night. The boys had patrolling handled.”

She just nodded and went back to her book.

But Bruce’s presence made it impossible for her to even focus enough on the words to keep reading. So, she faked it.

“I owe you an apology.”

Her stare snapped up.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”

Y/N was silent.

“It was unfair, and I was mistaken. I apologize.”

Y/N watched him for a moment before saying, “Apology accepted.”

She expected him to leave after that. He’d checked his little box. Now they could both move on.

“I was scared,” Bruce confessed. “That I was going to find you dead. And then I was scared Dick would lose it and…” His words died out.

“Well… you hid that very easily.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating that can be for other people.”

Bruce sighed and frowned. “I understand.”

Y/N finally put her book down and got up from the love seat to slowly walk to where Bruce was standing.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she apologized softly. “And I’m sorry for scaring you. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

Bruce didn’t even realize what he doing until he pulled Y/N into his arms and felt her bury her face into his chest and hug him back. He tightened his hold around her, breathing in her hair.

Y/N was surprised by his hug, but she was grateful for it.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It was either his body wash or his cologne, but Bruce always smelled like musk and wood. Y/N was rarely close enough to smell it this well. But when she did, it instantly soothed her.

“Why are you up so late?” Bruce asked when they finally pulled away.

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“You do not know how to make tea,” she answered while trying not to laugh.

“I am not as hopeless in the kitchen as you’d imagine,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, as she followed him downstairs.

True to his word, Bruce made Y/N lavender tea, making it just as Alfred had taught him as a child.

He gave her a smug smirk when he handed her one of the mugs and saw how surprised she was by him.

Y/N never expected he would linger.

But an hour later, they were still sitting on the barstools at the island.

The conversation was slow, but light.

Now that Y/N had spent so much time with the family, she mostly talked about the boys with Bruce, asked him questions about each of them.

It was easier for him to talk about them than himself – or them.

Little did Bruce know, Y/N was learning so much more about him from the way he talked about all of them.

Bruce was subtle, but Y/N could tell how proud he was of all of them – even Jason, who he had a tumultuous relationship with. He loved them with all his heart, even though he was terrible at showing it.

“Damian’s the only one who still lives here. Tim has a penthouse in the city. And Dick is constantly jumping around place to place. But it’s been...nice having them around so much recently,” Bruce admitted with hesitation.

“And what about Jason?” She asked. “He never seems to stay here.”

Bruce hid his sadness and disappointment well, but Y/N could still see it.

“I’m lucky Jason even speaks to me,” he answered darkly. “He tends to like his space and prefers to…keep to himself.”

She nodded, not forcing the subject more.

But then her eyes got a glimpse of the clock. And she looked inside her now empty mug. How long ago did she finish it?

“I should probably attempt to get at least a couple hours of sleep,” she murmured as she got up from the stool.

Bruce nodded, and did that thing where men stand up as soon as a woman does.

No matter how many times he did it, Y/N was always caught off guard by it.

“Thank you for the tea,” her voice was so quiet, but sincere. She smiled, “I’m sorry for ever doubting your skills.”

He grinned and watched her leave.

But when Y/N reached the edge of the kitchen she turned around. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully? And I mean really answer.”

Bruce observed her for a few seconds.

He knew she deserved his honesty.

They constantly answered each other’s questions with questions. It was like a dance – or a fight – which one probably just depended on the day.

He nodded.

“It’s okay if I am. Really, it is.” She took a short inhale. “But was I just another one of Bruce Wayne’s conquests?”

The desperation for honesty was so clear in her face and voice. If he said ‘yes,’ it would hurt her, but she would get over it. After all, that’s what she’d been assuming all this time.

Bruce did not have the words. Furthermore, he saw this for what it was: the two of them approaching dangerous territory.

But he owed her this.

Bruce didn’t break her stare as he carefully shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT/EARLY MORNING…

Bruce knew Dick would be in the gym in the manor.

Everyone trained in the cave, so Dick knew no one would find him there. And he could workout in peace without being reprimanded about resting and being cautious about his injuries.

Dick had been sprinting on the treadmill when Bruce walked in.

When he spotted his entrance in the mirror, Dick stopped the machine.

He was dripping in sweat, proving that he’d been training hard – too hard for his condition.

Wonder where he learned that from…

“What’s up?” Dick asked as he wiped his face with a towel.

“I had a feeling you weren’t resting,” Bruce said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m fine,” Dick shot back.

But he did a double take when he realized how deep in thought Bruce seemed to me. He was staring off, an extremely unusual thing for him.

“Bruce?” Dick asked with concern.

“Y/N’s parents abused her,” Bruce told him firmly all of the sudden. “Her father was an alcoholic – beat her and his wife. Her mother emotionally and mentally terrorized her. After running away countless times, Y/N was finally able to emancipate herself at 16.”

Dick’s entire body froze. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.”

Bruce didn’t mean to sound smug.

But Dick still took it that way.

“For obvious reasons, she didn’t go into great detail. But I filled in the blanks with research – though she’s hid her past well, as you can imagine. She was homeless after that. Broke in where she could. Tried to stay off the streets. Even dressed like a boy for safety.”

Dick felt sick as he listened. Stories like this were all too familiar to their family.

“One day, she saw someone coding on their computer at a coffee shop. She had always overachieved at computer science in school, and it intrigued her. As you and I both know, she caught on rather quickly.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she’s not going to,” Bruce replied as if it’s obvious.

Dick scowled, still not putting together the deeper meaning. They had never shared a conversation like this before. And it was confusing him.

Was Bruce trying to shove his past with Y/N in Dick’s face?

“I was the first person she ever shared her past with,” Bruce said slowly. “And it took me far too long to realize that I mishandled her trust. I did not deserve it.”

Dick could see the regret on Bruce’s face as he spoke.

But Dick finally understood what Bruce was actually trying to tell him: ‘If she does you the same honor, don’t you dare make the same mistake I did.’

“I understand,” was all Dick responded with.

Bruce gave a curt nod.

“Need I remind you that the cave has cameras?”

Bruce saw them kiss. But little did he know, it wasn’t their first.

Dick only quirked an eyebrow as if it say, ‘So? What of it?’

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Part 8

Guys, I was 30 minutes early. You’re welcome.

I want to point out that Y/N’s dark past was always part of the story. But I avoided actually including it because I am not a fan of fanfic writers often romanticizing abuse or mental health issues or other serious matters. I just want everyone to know that I take things like this seriously and I’m not just using them as a plot point.

So here is a resource if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence.

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 7 #bruce wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader x dick Grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick Grayson x reader x Bruce Wayne #dick grayson reader insert #bruce wayne reader insert #batboys #batfam #batman x reader #nightwing x reader

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

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Thanks to @jenoramaca @gryffindorhealer and @secretkeeper13 for the quick beta work!

A gift for my beloved @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey.

CW: Language and domestic fluff

______

Trying

From the second he walks through the door, Harry can sense that something’s changed. It takes him thirty minutes to suss out why.

In retrospect, the smells coming from the kitchen probably tipped him off. Or maybe it was Ginny’s distracted hum, followed by the tinkling of plates and cutlery. Perhaps it was the fact that she prepared a full dinner, long before he even got home.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t worry about it too much as he greets her with a kiss, his hands cupping her chin. When he sits across from her at the table, there’s something furtive and curious lurking behind her eyes, but their meal is so peppered with normalcy that he doesn’t bring it up. They banter and laugh about Luna and Robards and wonder what they’ll bring to the Burrow on Sunday.

But when they’ve reached the stage of chasing stray noodles around their plates, Ginny finally clears her throat… and just like that, the nearly imperceptible shift he’d sensed earlier turns into something very perceptible, indeed. “Can I erm. Talk to you about something?”

He pauses, mid-bite, and takes her in. Her lip’s worried between her teeth, her hands fidgeting. Even her hair, normally strewn about her shoulders or parted to the side with a sort of effortless grace, is tied back and resting low at the base of her neck.

Ginny’s not normally this… serious. And he’d be lying to say it didn’t frighten him.

So he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Who died?”

There’s a half-second pause in which his chest clenches, his stomach churns. Could it be Molly? Or Arthur? George hasn’t been great either, not that—

But Ginny just reels back, confused… and it’s not until then that Harry realizes he’s really, really misread something.

“I… w-what?” she stammers, brow furrowing. She peers at him for a pained moment before her face relaxes into a look of understanding. “Oh. Oh! For fuck’s sake,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. “I guess I’m thicker than usual, should’ve known you’d read it that way.”

Harry snorts. “Erm… darling, as many things as I legitimately don’t understand, I’m fairly sure this one isn’t on me.”

Ginny ignores this. “Did you seriously think that something dreadful happened and I’d just spring that on you in the middle of your bolognese?” Her lips twitch into a smirk. “Here’s some pasta. By the way, a fire burned a puppy orphanage to the ground. Could you pass the salt?”

He gives her a plain stare. Nice try. Years ago, he might’ve taken the bait and chased her down that rabbit hole. They might’ve had an hour-long, spirited debate on the existence of puppy-specific orphanages. But after three years of marriage, he knows better.

And she knows he knows.

Ginny finally draws a resigned breath. “No,” she says slowly. “No one died, ok? Or is even… I don’t know, sick or infirmed or threatened.” She waves her hand and continues babbling. “Last I checked, even Muriel’s still going strong, somehow. I’m jealous of that, you know— being old enough to just say whatever the fuck you’d like and have no one question it because—”

“—Ginny,” he cuts across on an exasperated sigh. “As chuffed as I am to chat about Muriel all night, I’d really like to know what’s bothering you. Please?”

There’s another pause as she bites her lip. Then, in one swift motion, she attempts to rise to her feet and push her chair in on her way over to him.

But somewhere along the way, something gets crossed— and Harry watches in bewildered horror as her foot catches on the leg of the chair. Then, right in front of his eyes, she lets out a startled gasp, her arms flailing, before she lands with a thump.

He’s out of his seat and on the floor beside her before he even realizes she’s cried out in pain and surprise. “Are you ok?” he demands, pushing her jeans up around her ankle… her tricky ankle, the one she hurt rather badly at the playoffs last month. Hm. It's a bit red.

Honestly, she hasn’t been this clumsy since she was 10 years old and near a butter dish. This does nothing to alleviate his fears that there’s something Very Wrong.”

“It’s not even my ankle that hurts,” Ginny grits, pushing up on her palms. “Wait— Harry, what are you—”

“Need to ask Gwenog,” he says urgently, running to the other side of the table for his wand. “She said that if anything happens to your ankle to tell her straight away, remember? Better safe than—”

She scoffs. “Seriously, Harry, I’m fine! I didn’t even land on my—”

He arches an eyebrow. “Have you suddenly forgotten the Puddlemere match? When your ankle broke clean through the skin?” Even now, the memory makes him shudder. “You heard Gwenog— without magic, you might not have walked again.”

“But there was magic,” she says, almost pleading. “And seriously, I’m fine!”

Harry finds he has limited patience for her heroics, though, while she’s sprawled out on the floor and nursing a bruise on her arse. “Gwenog’s instructions were quite clear,” he says firmly. “Having a pro athlete as a wife is a group task. It’s taxing on your body. I’ve got to make sure there’s enough of you left to enjoy our lives.”

Ginny clears her throat. “Erm… but what if you… haven’t actually got a pro athlete as a wife. Technically speaking.”

Harry swallows. He’s sure he’s heard her wrong. “What?”

With a wince, she adjusts herself against the wall. “I’m sorry… this isn’t how I’d planned to tell you. I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

Normally, Harry might press a bit harder. Normally he’d demand answers— and now. But as he peers at her on the floor, there’s something soft and uncertain behind her eyes… something timid. So he decides to do something he knows he’s good at— something she doesn’t let many other people do: take care of her.

With a sigh, he scoops her from the floor and brings her to the sofa. Then he props her against the pillows, putting her legs across his lap.

And he waits.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, peering at her downcast face, before she finally says it in a rush.

“Iwanttohaveababy.”

It comes on a whisper. A breathed admission. He knows, just from her expression, that she’s never said it aloud.

But he must have misunderstood. There’s no way he’s not projecting, inserting the reality he wants instead. “Could you… could you repeat that?” he manages, his voice gruff and shaken.

Ginny just sits up straighter; her cheeks as red as her hair. “I want to have a baby,” she repeats, the confidence building with every word.

Oh. Looks like he was right after all.

Harry blinks at the carpet, his head spinning, mortified with the tears that have sprung, unbidden, to the corners of his eyes.

A baby. Their baby. A smile plays at his lips as he stares at her ankle in distracted bliss. He’s been ready for ages… longer than anyone he knows. It’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t want a family with her. When he didn’t want to watch her grow and change. To become more beautiful with every passing day until…

He swallows back another round of tears; he’d never forgive himself if he forced this… if he swayed her, in any way, despite what he wants so badly it squeezes his insides.

“But what about quidditch?” His voice cracks; he clears his throat to cover it. “Honestly Ginny, I’ll wait, as long as you’d like. We’re young. Think of what you’d deal with, loads of assumptions and press and comments.”

She turns to him with an arched brow. “And since when have I ever cared about comments? Since when have you cared about comments?”

He spreads his palms in resignation; it was a particularly weak argument. “I know. I just… don’t want to make your life more difficult.”

“Well...” She draws a deep breath and peers down at her nails. “I’ve erm. Actually quit the Harpies, all by myself.” Her cheeks begin to redden again. “I’ve already sent the owl and everything. Resigned. No intent to return next season.”

Oh.

That’s what she meant, then, about not being married to a professional athlete. Harry blinks a few more times as she plows through an explanation that could honestly be something from a dream.

“I’ve… I’ve just been thinking about it. A lot,” she adds, focus returning to her cuticles. “The Harpies are out for the rest of the season— that fucking Puddlemere match and that bullshit ref.” She glares at the pillow to her right. “Nothing like blind favoritism. Fucking prick should’ve been fired!”

All Harry can manage is a feeble chuckle, his hand moving to caress her knee. This time, he can’t bring himself to stop her spiral.

“Maybe it’s not just that match, though,” she admits, rubbing her ankle. “It’s also just… so much bloody work. I’ve been at it three whole seasons, you know? I’m a bit tired of missing birthdays. And family events. And only dreaming of bludgers and snitches. And attending the mandatory press interviews to avoid getting fined, and then giving polite answers to personal questions when I really just want to hex them, and—”

Harry laughs. “I think Sandra Richardson might disagree about the polite answers bit, darling.”

Ginny gives a dignified sniff and continues as if she hasn’t heard him. “Annnyway,” she says, toying with a piece of lint. “I… feel like I’m ready to move on. So.” Her face splits into a grin as she gestures to the corridor. “On with it.”

He clears his throat. “As much as I’d love to take you up on that, I’m confused about how this relates to quitting your job. You could’ve kept playing. Or—”

“—Why is it so hard to believe this is something I want?”

There’s a beat. He doesn’t have a good answer.

“What if I wanted to quit before I got pregnant?” she continues, her tone growing more demanding. “What if I was done with playing, regardless — and genuinely wanted to have children? Your children.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh, tossing her hands in the air. “I have to say, Harry, this feels an awful lot like you’re doubting what I actually want to fit a narrative of what you think I want.” Her eyes narrow again. “Is that really respecting my wishes?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. He’d never thought about it like that before… how it might be insulting, really, to question what she’s ready for. He laces their fingers together, feeling properly chastened. “I’m sorry. I never meant to… suggest you don’t know what you want. Or something.”

He hears the timid smile in her voice as she squeezes his hand back. “Do you still want a baby, then?” she asks. “Or are you just in it for the practice?”

A smile creeps across his face, his eyes still focused on her hands. “I… think you know the answer to that one.”

“Well, I’m not sure I do,” Ginny says flatly. “Because I just told someone who wants two million babies that I’m ready to carry his first child. Forgive me if I expected a bit more excited fanfare than acting like I drowned your kitten.”

“What’s with you and baby animals today?” he murmurs, inching her pant leg a bit higher.

“Wonder why I’ve got babies on the brain,” she quips, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe because I want one.”

Harry releases a resigned sigh. She’s clearly done playing. “Honestly…” He bites his lip. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’m obviously on board. Obviously.” His eyes flit to hers. “I just… I don’t want to be responsible for something you end up regretting.”

It’s the truth of the matter, really; the thing that tugs at him the hardest. The fear he’d ever burden her… the worry he’d ever make her less than happy.

Ginny gives him a small smile, her hand coming to cup his jaw. “I’m going to take that as a weird, sad Harry thing instead of an attempt to remove my womanly agency.” She narrows her eyes. “But that’s your final warning.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet in a split-second, gathering her into his arms with the stupidest grin he’s ever worn. Trying. Is that what they call this? Are they actually properly trying now?

“Get used to this,” she says as he strides into the bedroom. “Because once you knock me up— on purpose, mind— I’m going to request a lot more transportation.”

“I think I can live with that,” Harry murmurs against her lips, draping her across the bed.

And to avoid a well-deserved slap, he doesn’t say the final bit: As long as you can live with me.

#harry/ginny #harry/ginny fanfic #hinny #harry potter #harry and ginny

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comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

When You’re Gone - F.W

Fred Weasley (and George) x fem reader, inspired by the song ‘When You’re Gone’ by Avril Lavigne.

A/N: If any of you are struggling with loss, grief or need someone to talk to, my inbox is open and I’ve re-blogged support hotline numbers.

About: The reader is mourning the death of her boyfriend, Fred Weasley. She’s struggling to move on, finding herself lost in both the past and present. Unfortunately, she loses her grips on reality and George has to put on the mask and pretend to be Fred.

Warnings: Grief, sadness, death, depression, flashbacks, some fluff here and there, deterioration of mental and physical health, mention of hospice care towards the end.

Three months ago your long term boyfriend, the man you planned to marry, was killed in an explosion during the battle of Hogwarts. His death changed your life forever.

You found it hard leaving the bed, eating and showering. At first you tried to accept that he was gone but no matter what it got harder to do so, you just wanted to hide away, fall asleep forever to wake up again one day with him next to you.

I always needed time on my own I never thought I'd Need you there when I cry And the days feel like years when I'm alone And the bed where you lie Is made up on your side

“Come on Y/N, you should write back to them, they want to know how you are.” Your mother said softly, trying to encourage you.

Ever since Fred’s death, the Weasley's wrote to you every week when they had time, you couldn’t bring yourself to reading whatever they wrote, let alone reply. You didn’t want to hear from them or see them, the guilt you felt for their sons death was eating you up inside - you didn’t want to lie to them about your state either.

“Maybe another time mum” you replied, staring at Fred’s side of the bed.

Your mother sat next to you and placed a hand against your tear stained cheek “He isn’t coming back, you can’t just leave everything how it is.”

You sighed and stood up walking over to the window “I’ll send them a Christmas card and apologise for not being able to protect their son.”

“It’s August, Y/N”

“Right.”

“And it wasn’t your fault!” Your mother cried.

Slowly but surely, you were losing track of time, of what was and wasn’t real, you found yourself over the next year getting more confused and plummeting even more into denial - your parents believed you didn’t want to move on - but you couldn’t to no fault of your own, you didn’t have a choice.

Your stress and grief shaped your brain and changed it, changing your reality and everything around you to create a world in which Fred would be coming home.

When you walk away I count the steps that you take Do you see how much I need you right now?

“Fred you can’t be serious” You sighed, rubbing your temple.

“Harry is like family to me, to us. He needs me there and I’m not going to allow.. WE need him gone to be able to have the life we want together, Y/N.” Fred argued back, pacing around the much brighter and cleaner bedroom.

“How am I going to protect you? I am in no state to be entering a war when I’m already so badly injured. If something goes wrong out there when I’m not with you...”

Fred walked over to you and placed a finger on your lips, shushing you. “Nothing is going to happen to me, my love.” he reassured you.

You shook your head “We don’t know that, please Fred, stay.”

Fred frowned and walked away from you “you know I can’t.”

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear To always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you

“Fred” you whispered, sitting in the shower, the water storming down upon you. “Please come back soon, I know you can and I hope you will.”

Your mother rubbed the bar of soap on your back before rinsing it with the water “I know we argued last night but I trust you, I know you’ll make it out alive.” you whispered again.

Your mother stopped washing you for a moment, taking in everything you had been saying, finally understand that something had gone wrong and your frame of mind wasn’t the same as it used to be. She knew deep in her heart you weren’t calling out for his spirit, she knew that you truly believed that he had just gone to Hogwarts - you were reliving the same period of time over and over, from the moment Fred left up until you would panic, running to the windows and asking members of the public if they had seen him.

Fifteen months on you were sitting at the table in the kitchen with your parents, you felt nervous at Fred’s silence.

“It’s a shame he can’t use a muggle phone” you muttered to your dad, taking a sip of your tea “I’d be able to hear his voice if he did.”

You started to bite at your nails whilst your legs couldn’t stop shaking “I bet his owls bloody snuffed it” you muttered again “he’s not replied to any of my letters, he must not be receiving them.”

Your parents exchanged a worried glance and sighed, your mental state crumpling even further. Recently, you were caught writing to Fred over and over again, asking how Harry was, how the war was going and if he’s okay, telling him you loved him. Your parents would tell you they would send the letters, but didn’t - Fred was dead and wouldn’t be coming back.

Even when they told you over and over again, within hours you would be back to writing those letters and talking about him in present tense.

Luckily George (and Arthur) finally learned how to use a muggle phone. Your parents decided to tell the Weasley family the truth, Molly, Arthur and George were heartbroken. George would ring up weekly to see how he could help and for updates on your condition.

“George she’s getting worse, we think she’ll stay where she is but she doesn’t she just goes further and further into madness.” Your mother said down the phone.

George sighed on the other end “I’m sorry-”

In the background George could hear you calling out in a panic “Dad! Dad! Where is Fred? he should be back by now and he isn’t here!” you began to cry.

“She’s like this as soon as the sun sets, every single day.” Your mother told George.

“I’ll be round in the morning” George replied.

I've never felt this way before Everything that I do Reminds me of you And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor And they smell just like you I love the things that you do

Rocking in your chair you looked around the room, feeling the same nausea as usual, waiting for Fred to return home. In your lap was one of his jumpers Molly made him one Christmas, you would wear it all the time, and if you got too hot you’d clutch to it like a toddler with a blanket.

Hearing the door open, which was incredibly unusual in your house you got up to your feet, your mouth dropping wide open when Fred, now with much longer hair came walking inside.

Your parents were hoping George’s visit would help break away at the cloudiness in your brain, but all they did was make it worse.

“Freddie!” You squealed out, running over and wrapping your arms around him “You’re finally home!”

You noticed behind his hair, he was missing an ear, but your overwhelming happiness of finally being reunited with him distracted you from asking questions.

George could feel his heart ache and his stomach drop, realising how much worse his visit would impact you. You got on your tip toes as you always did and placed a long and loving kiss onto his lips.

You furrowed your eyebrows at who you thought was Fred, George couldn’t bring himself to kiss you back, he felt cruel for doing this, but your parents had never seen you so calm and so happy in almost two years.

George looked at your parents for a moment and decided to try, he sighed and shook his head, not wanting to lie to you.

“I’m not Fred, I’m George.”

When you walk away I count the steps that you take Do you see how much I need you right now?

You let out a laugh “You need to come back from war with more than longer hair and a missing ear to try and trick me.”

“Fred died, Y/N. He was killed in an explosion.” George told the truth.

You shook your head in disbelief “No? You’re right in front of me.” you replied “I know you like your laughs and jokes Fred, but that’s not something to joke about, George should know better too for putting you up to this.”

You walked into the kitchen forgetting what you went in there for and walked back into the living room, taking a seat.

Your mother burst into tears and walked out of the room, your father following her to give comfort. You stared at them, not understanding why they hadn’t welcomed your boyfriend back into warm open arms.

George knew that no matter how hard he tried he wouldn’t be able to get you to see the truth - you couldn’t no matter what, they were living in your world now. George sighed, almost kicking himself for what he was about to do.

“I’m only joking, I am Fred.”

Waking up from your nap you jolted up and noticed the darkness through the window outside, feeling the panic brew inside your tummy you started to worry.

“It’s okay I’m here.” George, playing Fred, patted your shoulders, walking around your chair.

He was carrying a bowl of soup in his hands nice and warm, just for you.

Your parents and George were taking you care of you full time now, George had been living as your pretend boyfriend for just over seven years now and his heart broke even more as your state worsened.

You couldn’t feed yourself, wash yourself, get your self dressed or brush your hair. You couldn’t communicate through speech properly either, you would instead pull faces, point or stare into the same four walls, and every day was exactly the same; waiting for Fred to come home, being nervous, overjoyed when you’d see him, in distress when George would leave the room or when your parents would take over his shift.

You smiled at Fred, as he blew on the soup filled spoon, making you drink it. It took you ages just to finish eating and drinking, it was hard to simply exist, but staring into those beautiful eyes you never thought you’d see again calmed the storms that distressed your seas and damaged your boats.

George finished buttoning up your pyjama shirt and got you to lay down in your bed, he sat beside you and stroked your hair until your eyes fluttered shut. Once he knew you were dreaming far away from home, he stood up and met your parents downstairs.

“George, our daughter... well you know all of this is no good, not getting better.” Your father tried his best to explain, swallowing the great big lump in his throat.

Your mother took over “What we’re trying to say George, is that, we’re looking to place Y/N in a twenty four hour care facility. She cannot speak, she cannot look after herself, she’s incredible vulnerable and she’ll be getting the care she needs - you’ll be able to get your life back.”

We were made for each other Out here forever I know we were Yeah, yeah And all I ever wanted was for you to know Everything I do, I give my heart and soul I can hardly breathe; I need to feel you here with me Yeah

Today was your 40th birthday, twenty whole years since Fred died along with a part of yourself no one would ever see again.

Now due to your bedbound state, you were laid in bed and the care assistant next to you got out your photo albums from all of your years at Hogwarts. She adjusted the height and position of the bed with her wand, making you more comfortable.

Placing the photo albums on your lap she took you through them one by one, the memories flashing before you like a movie reel as you watched the photos move.

The twins on the train going home after their first year at Hogwarts, Fred flying on his broom during Quidditch. Fred and you on your first date in Hogsmeade, him dancing around the tent with a giant shamrock painted on his face, the two of you pulling faces and giggling in the kitchen at the burrow, Fred proudly standing in front of his shop, the two of you in your house just before he left for the war.

The care assistant pulled out the letters he had written to you over the years on your birthday, placing them in front of you to read. Despite his death - absence - from your life, you could still hear his voice as clear as day, making re-reading these letters all the more special.

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear Will always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you

Overtime, your muscles weakened and so did your organs, and unfortunately this years cold, flu, and sickness season didn’t go easy on you. The whole facility lost many residents this time of the year but none as young as you.

Your parents who would much rather be grandparents sporting perfect silver hair and wrinkles were notified of your deterioration, being told that now would be the time to come and say goodbye. Your parents notified George and he left his wife and children at home, coming to visit you.

In a deep sleep you could hear your parents talking but couldn’t quite make out what they were staying, you didn’t have the strength to open your eyes either. After struggling to leave the room, George finally switched over from them and sat in the chair next to you, taking a hold on your hand.

When going through the room he and his brother shared, he stumbled across a letter Fred had written but never sent in one of the pockets of the last coat he had ever worn. George brought it with him after reading it, knowing it would help you reach the reality with Fred you yearned for.

My Dearest Y/N,

I’m sorry that I had to go and leave you behind, but don’t be scared, don’t worry about me, my love. You are strong and you are brave, no matter what happens - I promise we’ll meet again. Just keep those beautiful eyes of yours set on the horizon, and when the time is right, we’ll know where to meet again.

George felt your grip on his hand tighten, tears rolled down his face.

I know it’s not been easy and I know that it’s been calm, but we’ll have forever together and we’ll be away from harm. So keep on smiling and searching beautiful, the adventure is not so far away.

Love Always, Fred.

Letting go of the weight on your shoulders, you stumbled through the forest, feeling the sun beam on your skin. Following the chatty Magpie you stopped in your tracks, your whole world standing right in front of you.

“You got my letter?” Fred asked, who had aged like fine wine.

You grinned widely and nodded, tears forming in your eyes and ran into his open arms.

“I missed you.”

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writingsofspn · 3 years

Text

Innocent - Remus Lupin x Reader

Remus and Y/N are old friends and old lovers, turned astray. They meet again, both teaching at Hogwarts - and are reunited with an old friend.

Y/N = Your Name

This fic is gender neutral:)

————————

You knocked on Remus’s door lightly, expecting his voice to grant you access to his office so you could talk to him about what had been playing on your mind all week - all year, in fact.

‘Remus?’

There was no reply. You knocked a bit harder again and waited a few seconds before you slowly opened the door.

Chaos. As per usual.

A smile graced your lips looking at his messy, disorderly office. Everything had a place though, you knew that. You looked at his desk and saw a very familiar piece of parchment laying there. You audibly gasped. The parchement unlocked a memory you forgot you had. You moved forward and lightly brushed your hands across the worn face of the paper, your memory doing dances in your head. You took your wand from your pocket and said the all-too familiar words and the parchment lit up. Your eyes scanned the expanse of paper until you found the name you were looking for, and what you saw absolutely floored you.

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Together.

Your mouth opened and you rushed from the office, making your way to the willow as quickly as you could. You touched the knot and crawled through the tunnels you knew too well until you reached the shack, and listened out for voices. You could hear murmers from the closest bedroom and you snuck up to the door, careful not to any make noise. You peaked through the crack in the door and saw three of your students, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley - you rolled your eyes, always the three of them. There were two voices that distinctly belonged to two men who were once very important to you, one in particular.

You listened as Remus told the story of his time at Hogwarts, and about what headmaster Dumbledore had done for him during his time there. You thought about Hogwarts and the time you had there, along with Remus, Sirius, Peter and...James. You lowered your head, deciding to open the door and show yourself. The door creaked and all five heads turned your way. Sirius raised his wand quickly but lowered it as soon as he saw your face, a glimpse of a smile shadowing his face.

‘Y/N.’ He said so simply, yet so emotionally.

A surge of emotions you didn’t expect hit you with a full force, and you moved forward to embrace Sirius in a long-awaited hug. You caught Remus’s eye over Sirius’s shoulder and he gave you a kurt nod, his gentle eyes telling you everything you needed to know - Sirius was innocent.

———————

‘He’s innocent, Remus. I know it.’ You shouted, your hands throwing themselves around in exasperation.

‘Y/N please don’t take sides. I don’t want to believe it either, and I never thought anything like this would happen but it has and I can’t see any other explanation. We’re going to have to believe it, because how else would...he have found Lily and James?’ Remus replied, clearly upset. He was confused, even more so than you. Sirius was his closest friend, aside from James, and he didn’t know what to think.

‘What about Harry? What is he going to do now? We can’t leave him with Lily’s sister, she’s bloody awful. We need to take him in, Remus. We can’t leave him.’ You changed the subject, trying to take your mind off Remus’s incredible narrow-mindedness at Sirius.

‘Y/N, you know he’ll be better off with that family. They legally have rights to him, and we don’t. The only other person with legal rights to Harry is...Sirius.’ Remus reasoned, and this only infuriated you further.

‘For Merlin’s sake, Remus. How can you be so bloody narrow-minded? You KNOW it wasn’t Sirius who did this, I know you do. How could it be? Lily, James and Harry meant more to him than life itself. Could you just open yourself to the possibility it wasn’t him?’ You shouted, on the verge of crying. You got upset when you were angry, it was natural.

‘Y/N. It was Sirius. How could it be anyone else?’

He stunned you silent for moment. How could he believe your best friend, Sirius Black, would ever do such a thing as to betray you and your friends like this?

‘I know you don’t mean that, Rem. You’re just emotional. You can’t mean that.’ You shook your head.

He folded his arms and stared at his shoes.

‘I...I can’t be here if you’re going to think like that.’ You said, taking a few steps back from him. You took a deep breath in to try and stop your tears falling. Remus looked angry, and he looked down and brushed a hand down his face.

‘Then go.’

Those three words hit you like a truck. You swayed on the spot, dumbfounded. You stared at each other for a few moments, but it felt like hours. Flashes of the morning sun spread across your entwined hands, laughs as you twirled round the common room to cheesy music he’d found at the second-hand shop and kisses stolen behind closed doors and when no one was looking crossed your mind. You felt as if the wind had been knocked from your chest, and a seething rage filled it instead. He moved towards you, seemingly sympathetic.

Fuck.

You moved away from him sharply and marched upstairs, throwing as many of your belongings you could find into a bag. Remus didn’t attempt to stop you, but simply waited at the top of the stairs until you were satisfied you had everything you needed. You pushed past him in a blurry, enraged manor. You heard him follow you down the stairs, and stop when he saw your hand hovering over the doorknob.

‘Y/N, we can fix...’

‘Come back to me when you realise the truth.’ You flung the door open and slammed it behind you. He made no attempt to follow you, and you cried as you made your way further down the street, hearing no noise behind you.

That was the last time you saw him, until he turned up at Hogwarts at the beginning of the year, well over a decade later.

————————

‘Sirius. I never believed it was you. Please. I tried. I really tried to prove it wasn’t you. Please believe me.’ You muttered into his shoulder, holding your old friend tight.

‘It’s okay Y/N, Remus has told me what you have done. It’s okay.’ He said softly, moving away and running a finger across your cheek.

‘You’re in on this too?’ Harry croaked, turning to look at Ron and Hermione; a look of shock across all three of their faces.

‘Harry, let us explain. Please.’

You told him everything that had happened. About your time at Hogwarts with his mother and father, and about the consequences of that fateful night at Godric’s Hollow. Sirius interjected at points with his thoughts, as did Remus. Finally, you moved to Peter.

‘But what’s my rat got to do with anything?’ Ron said rather agitatedly, said rat squealing and writhing in his hands.

‘Because Ron, your rat is not a rat. He is a human, and a wizard. And he goes by the name Peter Pettigrew.’ Remus said gently, pointing to the rat.

After some heavy convincing, Ron gave the rat over and you performed a spell to return Peter to his snivelling human form and get what he deserved.

————————

You sat inside the castle, watching the night sky move along from your office with the old window wide open as you let the smell of the summer night drift through. You cast an eye to the moon, a familiar movement that had become habit over the years. You watched the tiny sliver of the moon cast it’s bright light over the grounds of the school, and your mind became encompassed with the events of the previous night. Harry and Hermione had told Remus and yourself what they had done, about the timeturner and letting Sirius go. To say you were relieved was an understatement, but anger and guilt still hung over you as you thought about Peter Pettigrew still walking free while Sirius was forced into hiding.

‘It’s a fine night, is it not?’

Remus spoke behind you. You jumped slightly, not having heard him enter. You looked in his direction, taking in the man you’d missed so dearly. He looked tired and worn down, much older since the last time you’d seen him. His clothes were worn, and you noticed new scars littered across his face and neck. Your heart ached still, even after what had happened. You remained silent and stared at the floor, not really sure what to say.

‘Are you alright?’ You decided to ask. You’d been apart for many years, but your concern for the man you still loved remained ever-present.

‘I’m just glad no one was hurt.’ He replied sullenly. You watched as he shuffled his feet, crossing his arms and looking everywhere but where you sat. A few moments passed, the silence engulfing the both of you to the point it became unbearable.

‘Did you want anything, Rem?’ You winced at the nickname that hadn’t left your mouth in years. You felt guilt after you said that, feeling as though you came across cold. You didn’t want that, in fact you wanted anything but that. You got up and moved to the front of your desk, perching on the top and crossing your ankles and keeping your eyes firmly trained on the floor. You’d faltered, not knowing whether to excuse yourself or remain silent. However, he decided for you.

‘I wanted to say that I’m sorry.’

You froze, not expecting those words to hit your ears. You remained staring at the floor, not really knowing where to start. You saw his feet move closer and you lifted your head to look at him.

‘Don’t be sorry, you didn’t have any control over what happened last night-’ You started, but was soon interrupted.

‘I didn’t mean last night, Y/N. I meant I’m sorry for what happened since the moment you walked out of our door 14 years ago.’ He put a hand on your desk, fingers inches away from touching yours.

‘Oh.’

‘What happened 14 years ago was perhaps the moment I’ve regretted most in my life. I let what we had go because I couldn’t see past my own mind at the possibilities. You have no idea how many times I’ve written letters to you and summoned an owl, only to throw it away; especially when I heard you had started teaching at the school.’ He recoiled his hand, putting both into his pockets as he spoke, doing that thing he’s always done when he’s nervous.

You watched him for a few seconds, biting the skin on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say. In that moment, it all became so clear. You’d lost 14 years with the man you’d loved most because you’d both been so stubborn minded and stupid.

‘I’m sorry I left, Remus. I’m sorry I never wrote to you, or came to find you. I’m sorry I left.’ You blurted, your tongue seemingly taking over for you. Your cheeks went red, and you sat up a bit straighter in anticipation of his reaction. However, he remained still and silent. You carefully studied his face, looking for a hint of how he was feeling. He lifted his eyes and a warm smile spread across his worn face. You moved forward and put your arms around his shoulders and hands behind his head, fingers weaving into the greying hair at his neck. His arms encircled your waist and you felt him inhale deeply. You shut eyes momentarily, taking in a feeling you hadn’t felt for a long time - love. True, innocent, desperate love.

You pulled away first, looking at his face and tracing your finger gently across the new scars you’d never seen before. He stopped your hand, taking it in his and pressing a small kiss to your palm. You made eye contact and in that moment, you knew you had him back - and this time, you weren’t letting him go.

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oigimi · 3 years

Text

. owlet .

. mozart and baby oc . found family . 1.9k words .

here’s a found family fic that’s been in my head for awhile now! i really hope you like it. mozart seems like the kind of guy to have a daughter

A cry filled the mansion’s halls, piercing the ears of all who heard it. It was relatively late at night, and everyone was gathered at the front door, staring at quite the unusual package. Gifts and shipments would grace the mansion’s front doors often, but this… this was something entirely different. Rather than a case of Rouge or Blanc, or a bouquet of roses or anything in the ordinary, the residents of le Comte’s mansion stood in front of a baby girl in a basket, with a tag attached reading, “My name is Asuka. Please take care of me.”

“Asuka… Just like- Ah, never mind,” Sebastian started, waving his hand. He bent down to pick the screaming infant up, only to have her screech even louder, and swat her hands around in an angry little tornado.

“Sebas, you’re holding her wrong! You need to-” Arthur’s attempts at calming Asuka were even more fruitless, with her fighting to wriggle out of his arms. He passed her on to Theo, who scared her. She was given to Comte, then Leonardo, then eventually everyone in the room before being returned to her basket.

Vincent looked downwards, his mouth tugged downwards in a frown. “What do we do? I feel so bad for her, she won’t even stop crying. Poor little baby…”

“Broer, she tried to bite you!”

“She’s just little and scared! You were like that too once, Theo.”

As the younger brother clammed up, a final face showed itself that hadn’t been present before.

“What’s all this noise? Whatever you’re all doing, can you wrap it up soon? Or perhaps be a little quieter?” Mozart hissed, marching right up to his roommates and their new problem. He caught sight of Asuka and wrinkled his nose. “Arthur, did one of your little flings catch up with you?”

“No! She’s just a darling little thing that showed up on our porch and we simply can’t get her to stop crying. If you want to get her to be quiet, why not try and hold her?”

Mozart looked at the screeching infant, whose face was reaching a color as hot and fiery as her hair. “No,” he simply said. Babies were messy and loud and provided everything he didn’t want in his life. But, Arthur was right. If there was any way he could try and fix the problem, it was to try and hold this thing. Mozart took a deep breath and took the baby out from the basket, shaking his head and awkwardly cradling her in his arms. “There… there. I suppose.”

“You’re supposed to bounce her,” Vincent chuckled, guiding Mozart into rocking Asuka to the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Just like that.” They looked down, and everyone’s faces melted into shock when Asuka finally stopped crying. Her big, glossy blue eyes were coated with tears, but she stared up in wonder at Mozart, or rather the feather in his jacket. She reached her tiny hand out to grab it.

“No. You’re just going to put it in your mouth and get sick.”

Asuka scrunched her face and pouted, reaching a little harder for the feather. She fussed, to which Mozart simply scoffed.

“No.”

“No!” she echoed, shaking her head. “No, no!”

“She’s already learning to speak like him,” Arthur snickered. “Oh, isn’t that just precious?”

Mozart glared at him as he tried to keep the baby away from his feather. He sat down on the couch, holding Asuka away from his body as if she carried a disease. “How long do I have to hold this thing?”

“Until she goes to sleep. Mozart, can’t you take care of this baby for just one night until we can figure out what to do with her?” Comte asked, tilting his head to the side. “It would mean you can get to your music faster, anyway.”

He looked at Asuka, who was still making fruitless attempts to obtain Mozart’s jacket feather, scowling in contempt at her. “Fine. But only for one night.”

“We all know how ‘just for tonight’ goes. You’ll be with her on her wedding day now!” Dazai mused, earning another deep scowl.

“I am not fathering this child.”

Asuka began to fuss, wriggling around and squirming in Mozart’s arms. He moved his arms so that she was gently pressed against him. “There… I suppose.” He swayed his body to the rhythm Vincent showed him, slowly patting her back. Before he knew it, she was yawning and her grabbing began to stop. “Hm. I’m putting her down to bed. Then I’m going back to my music.”

“Are you sure you should leave her alone? I think she’s gotten quite fond of you!” Arthur chuckled. “You might just wake her up if you leave.”

“Are you serious?” He groaned and looked down at the baby. “I guess I’m going to go to sleep too. The sooner I sleep the sooner time moves forward. Goodnight.”

Without another word, Mozart made a quick stop in the kitchen to warm up some milk. He swiped some chocolate, and glanced down at Asuka. She looked so… relaxed. So cute, even. Mozart couldn’t deny that he didn’t like babies, but the child he held in his arms felt a little different. He didn’t like her very much, but he couldn’t let anyone else take care of her. For some reason, it felt warm in his chest when she would only relax in his arms. As if he was meant to be her father in some way.

He grabbed a second, little cup with this in mind.

When he got to his room, Mozart made a tiny bed on the carpet with layers and layers of blankets and pillows, and laid Asuka down in it. She stirred, and made little cries in her sleep. Was she upset that Mozart had set her down? Could she even tell? It didn’t matter, he still felt a little bad for her. “We’ll get you a proper bed tomorrow. I couldn’t put you in a drawer or in your small basket,” he sighed. “You’re annoying and I don’t like you, but you’ll get a crib tomorrow. Goodnight, owlet.”

------

The next morning was full of diapers, crying, hissy fits, and screaming. Sebastian had run to pick up some basic supplies, but it ultimately did very little in the vampires’ battle against a fussy baby. She didn’t like peas, she didn’t like corn, and Vincent had to learn that babies can’t eat pancakes. What could she eat that would make her happy?

“Warm milk,” Mozart huffed, taking some off the stove. He poured some in the little cup he’d carried and let it cool off to a safe temperature. With some strict, yet gentle coercion, he managed to bring the cup to Asuka’s lips and help her drink as much as her tiny stomach could handle. “What was so hard? Babies like milk.” He grumbled a bit and cleaned out the cup. “Morons.”

“Well well well! You really are like a natural father to her!” Dazai chuckled. “What did we predict?”

“Nothing. I’m just not a fool,” Mozart snapped back, lifting Asuka out of the chair and burping her. “The plan today is to get some more supplies. But I am shopping for them.”

“Are you sure you do not want anyone to help carry anything?” Jean mumbled. “I can hold items at the store for you and help take them home.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Jean’s workplace ended up with a bit more than he expected, with a nice crib and mobile and a lot of bottles and sippy cups. The Frenchman blinked at the juxtaposition between the baby supplies and the items of war he sold in the shop. Mozart mentioned only taking care of Asuka for a few days. The abundance of furniture seemed like overkill.

At a nearby store, Mozart stood next to a stroller with his fussy responsibility inside. He scanned the shelves for toys, putting a set of blocks, paints, and a few stuffed animals inside. He stopped, however, when he laid eyes upon a stuffed snowy owl. “Just like Schelm…” he chuckled. He took the toy off the shelf and held it to Asuka. “Do you want an owl? An owl for the owlet?”

“Ow,” she replied, reaching out for the toy. ��Ow!”

“Is that your way of saying ‘owl’? Alright, here you go. Be nice to it.” He paid for the toys and found himself looking in the stroller at the baby. She was cuddling her new toy and inspecting its wings and rubbing it, inspecting it for anything of interest. “It’s just a stuffed animal. Silly,” he chuckled. “Let’s get you home now. I have a feeling you’ll start screaming here in a moment.”

By the time night had arrived, the crib, bookshelf, mobile, and toys were all set up. Asuka was shaking a rattle on the floor when Mozart picked her up. “Alright, it’s time for bed. Come on.”

“Noooo!” she cried. “Nooooooo!”

“Yes. Come on.”

She fussed and began to cry, reaching down at the floor for her rattle.

“No rattles in bed,” Mozart huffed. “Here, I have something you can take in bed.” He reached down on the floor and handed her the stuffed owl. “Here. Your owl.”

“Ow.”

“That’s right. Your ow,” Mozart chuckled, setting Asuka down in the crib with her stuffed toy. “Goodnight, Asuka. You’re a silly little owlet who needs plenty of sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, he wound up a music box and turned off the lights.

------

“Papa, can I get the first slice?” Asuka asked, beaming wide at a large cake in the kitchen. “Better yet, I want the whole thing!”

“You can’t have the whole cake because you’ll get sick. You have my sweet tooth.” Mozart finished moving the cake to the table and sighed, “I can’t believe you’re sixteen years old now.”

“Old enough to get a boyfriend!”

“Let’s not go that far.”

“But you said when I turned sixteen I could!! Papa, you’re being unfair.”

Mozart chuckled and ruffled his daughter’s hair. “Alright, go sit down at the table.”

She did as she was told and grinned, admiring all the presents everyone in the mansion had bought for her. From personalized books from Uncle Arthur to a paint set from Uncle Vincent to expensive clothes from rich Uncle Comte, Asuka was surrounded with so many luxuries given to her by the people who loved her. She was adopted into the greatest family she could imagine, and by the best father she could ever want. Sure, Asuka had a bit of an attitude sometimes, but she always knew when the important things needed to be said.

“I love you Papa,” she murmured, getting up and hugging Mozart. “Thanks for taking care of me, and thanks for all the birthday gifts.”

He smiled, embracing his daughter tightly in his arms. “I love you too. I love you so, so much, Asuka. You gave my life and music meaning like no other… Are you crying?”

“N-no! I don’t cry!”

“Okay.” He kissed his daughter’s forehead and sat down at the table. “No matter how old you get, whether you’re sixteen or sixty, you’ll always be my little owlet. I love you so much, and happy birthday.”

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios #ikemen vampire mozart

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jordanstrophe · 3 years

Text

Going Once, Going Twice: part 7

Fevers and Dreams 2/2

CW: Pet whump, ill whumpee, forced to take medicine, panicking, mention of the death of a relative.

Masterlist

Robert sat at Peter’s bedside, clutching an object in his hand just out of sight.

“So I uh... I made you something. I haven’t done wood carving in a long time, but I hope you like it.” He pulled out a small, adorable carved owl. It’s big eyes glistened with gloss and each feather delicately detailed. Robert took his hand and set it in his palm, as he was frozen in shock.

“It’s... It’s for me?’‘ He asked, not quite believing it, looking up at him with doe eyes. “Yes, just for you. You can leave it at the desk, so when you wake it and see it, you’ll remember where you are. You’re somewhere safe.” He smiled.

Peter ran his fingers through all the detail, admiring every splinter in the wood.

“T-Thank you master.” He whispered, holding it close. He had never owned anything before. Nothing like this at least, it was really pretty and well made.

Robert just accepted he was “Master” now. It was understandable he might be uncomfortable using his name, but he hoped one day he would be comfortable enou- Oh... That’s right. He wasn’t going to be here much longer, was he? What was he doing?! He was getting attached. The closer he got the harder the heartbreak would be when he had to tell him he was going to go away with another stranger and have to get used to them all over again.

“Oh dear...” He muttered, noticing he was shivering and sweating a bit more than before. He rested his hand on his forehead, he was burning up again. “I’m taking you in tomorrow, try and get some more rest.” He whispered, pulling the blankets up.

Wait, he was being taken where?

“Now remember.” He said, taking his cheeks in both hands. You’re safe, okay?” He reminded, setting the owl on the desk.

“Okay” Peter mumbled back.

“That’s right.” He smiled, grazing his forehead one last time with his knuckles. He shut off the lamp and closed the door, collapsing back in his recliner and bundling up in the thin blanket.

“Master!?” Peter called. Robert shot back to his feet and bolted back into the room, trying not to slam the door open off its hinges. “What’s wrong?! Are you okay?!” He hollered. Peter was holding the owl in his arms shivering, leaning up in the bed, tears staining his face.

“Please, please stay here! I don’t want to fall asleep again, he’ll come back!” He cried out. Robert dropped to a knee on the bed, pulling him into a hug. “Who will come back?” He asked. “T-the... The Baron.” He muttered. “Oh little one...” He sighed, holding him tightly. “No one is going to take you. Especially not the Baron.” He whispered to him. He felt like he was spitting lies, but the Baron part was truthful at least. But tonight, he was willing to say anything to get him to sleep.

He shuffled his weight behind Peter, leaning back in bed. Peter rested his fists on each of his shoulders, laying his head down on his chest. He could feel his heart beating hard. “Are you.. Okay?” He asked. “Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. Just sleep.”

He felt safe knowing Master was there. He closed his eyes, drifting to sleep.

-------

When we awoke, he was only leaning against pillows that were propped up. He gasped and jolted up, but was shocked with relief to see Master was next to him with a cup in hand. “Hey! There you are. Good morning! Did you sleep okay?” Robert asked. “I- Y-yes, I did. G-morning.” He mumbled, his vision was still blurry, as he tried to get a grip on reality.

“I know you just woke up, but do you think you can eat and drink a little?” He asked. He only blinked and squinted at him, tilting his head to the side.

He shook his head no, his throat hurt and nose was stuffed up, any food he could imagine just made him cringe. But he did his best to choke some water down, Robert wrapped the coat around his shoulders and lifted him in his arms.

“M-master, where are we going?” His voice panicked. He groaned as he tilted his head against Master’s chest as the world spun around him. “To see a friend who can help.” He smiled, setting him in the car and buckled him in.

He fell asleep on the ride to who knows where. He awakened to the sensation of being lifted again, only it was cold, really cold, as he blinked awake.

There was the auction building before him.

He yelled out and cried, desperately trying to kick his way out of the man’s arms.

“No no no! It’s okay!” Robert called, having to crouch down on the pavement to try and steady the panicking man in his arms.

“W-What did I do?!” He cried, begging for mercy, begging for another chance, begging for what felt like his life.

“Peter! Listen to me. It’s okay. You’re not being sold. My friend I told you about works here, and we’re going to see her while she’s on break, she’s a busy woman.” He explained. His kicking and thrashing died down, and he clung to Robert’s coat.

“Don’s.. Don’t leave me.. Please.” He begged.

“I'm going to be right there, I promise." He soothed, holding him tight against his chest, hoping that would be a sign of his words.

Don’t stress him out anymore, she says... Bring him to the worst place on the planet, she says... He wanted to just bring him to an actual doctors office, but he only heard terrible things about those Pet hospitals. But at least here he had someone he could trust.

He sat in a chair in the waiting room, and not five minutes later, Winola practically skipped into the room. Not bad for an old lady.

“Peter!” She called, arms extended out, as she sped walked over. He jolted and dug his face into Robert’s shoulder, trying to slink his way under Robert’s coat to be hidden away.

“Hey! You never sound that excited when you see me!” Robert laughed.

“Oh hey Rob.” She mumbled.

“How is that doll! Is he being good? Is Robby doing a good job taking care of you? Hmmm?” She asked. If he was actually facing her, she would probably pinch his cheeks. But there he remained, practically cowering into Robert’s shoulder.

“Fair enough. Come on now, no more chit chat. bring him into that side room there please.” She pointed with a long golden nail. Robert carried him into a dreary looking room, with a chair in the center with straps and restraints hanging off it. Peter whimpered, as Robert shook his head with disgust at the chair. He just sat in a chair on the side and held him in his lap. Peter was practically glued to his shoulder at this point, not once budged from his place.

Winola walked in, a long medical bag in hand. She awkwardly looked around the room before finally spotting him in the corner. “Come on now, don’t be shy, you can sit him in there.” She motioned at the chair. ‘I’m not putting him in that. If that’s all you got I’d rather hold him.” He said. “Tsk, what a pushover.” She smirked.

“I am not a pushover! I don’t like forcing him to do things he doesn’t want to do.” He argued back.

She grunted, struggling to pull over another chair in the back. “Would you mind helping an old woman out?!” She barked. “Yeah! Sorry..” He muttered, putting Peter down in the stool and helping her pull the old chair out. It was much nicer, like a white comfortable medical table. “Up up sweetheart.” She called, waving him over. Peter glanced at Robert for confirmation before slowly crawling up.

Without warning, she shoved a thermometer in his mouth, it tried to move his head to the side, but it was far too late. “How much medicine have you given him so far?” She asked. “Nothing yet.’’ He admitted. “What? Come on Rob, When they’re sick like this, you have to put your foot down.” She said, pulling a bunch of bottles from her bag.

She took the thermometer from his lips and shook her head. “Alright dear, open up.” She instructed, pouring medicine in a spoon and holding it to his lips. As soon as he opened to protest, she immediately shoved it in. He jolted and panicked, as she took his chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to swallow. He coughed when she pulled and spoon out, and poured another dose. “If you can’t convince em, trick em” She giggled.

“Winola, that’s just cruel!” He scolded.

‘'Shh, now watch.” She instructed, holding it back to his lips. He stared up at her with glossy eyes, before slowly and reluctantly opening his mouth.

“Seeee? He’s being a good boy now.” She smiled, as he looked at her grumpily.

As she packed up the extra medicine in a bag for him, she glanced back at Robert. “So how’s the cousins?” She smirked. Robert closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Painful as ever. They refuse to talk to me, and I need Nina’s signature eventually.” He groaned.

“Well that sucks for you.” She grumbled. “Hey, I thought you were supposed to be the nice grandma figure around here, where’s my comfort advice and cookie?” He mocked.

“I ate them all, and I only pass out tough love here. The world is cruel, so the advice should at least be honest.” She smiled. Peter tried to slide off the chair to climb back into Robert’s lap, but she took his arm and centered him again. Robert noticed his discomfort, and went over to take his hand.

“I get why she’s upset, she has a right to be, If I’m being honest. She’s the oldest and figured she would get all of Aunt May’s inheritance. She screamed when she finally read the will after her passing.” Robert shuttered.

“Nah, she was a terrible kid to that woman. I met them both on multiple occasions. Ungrateful brat.” She spat. “Miss May talked a lot about you, did you know that? The only thing she ever got for her birthday from any family was the hand drawn cards and sculptures you sent her. She collected them all over the years, said it always warmed her heart that someone at least thought about her.” She muttered, shining a light in Peter’s eyes, who glared at her.

‘Huh... I didn’t know that. Nina probably found it and burned it all, I assume.” They both laughed.

“Now! You were.. Such a good boy!” She exaggerated, patting Peter’s cheek roughly. She handed him a small lollipop and gave him a pet in the hair. “I need to talk to Mister McAllen privately for a second, is that okay?” She asked. He whimpered as his head shot towards Robert. “It’s okay, i’ll be right over there.” He motioned with a smile.

Winola took Robert’s arm in hers and had him walk her outside. “So, how is he really? Been behaving?” She asked. “Ugh... The kid is scared to death. I feel terrible, but I’m doing everything I can.”

“Pff, nah, you should have seen him at the auction, couldn’t take him anywhere.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, he bit me.”- -“HE WHAT?!” She laughed.

“So uh, how goes the search?” He asked. “Search for what?” She raised an eyebrow.

“The... The search for the new owner?” He asked. “Oh! Yeah. That. It’s totally going. These things take time though.” She smiled, patting his arm. “Yeah, I figured, do you know how long it may take?’’ He asked.

“Desperate to get rid of him that badly, eh?” She gave a sad sighed. “No! No, that’s not it at all! I’m just curious. He’s a sweet kid. Part of me... Well-”

“-Bonded with him? Hmmm?” She nudged.

“Uuuugggghhhh...” He let off a long pained groan.

“I knew it!” She laughed. “Why not keep him then? You obviously like him. You treat him like a son.” She laughed.

He froze. Why not keep him? Well, because... Wait, why would he get rid of him again? Sure, the house was small, but that was fixable... And he would get better as time went on. He was a really sweet kid.

“I.. I don’t know. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all...” He muttered.

“Well thank goodness, because I have not been looking for new owners at all.”

“WHAT? Winola! What if I actually didn’t keep him!” He argued.

“But you did. Heh!” She smiled, clapping her hands together. “I knew it! I knew it. You were going to bond with him, realize it wouldn’t be so bad, learn to enjoy taking care of him, and Voilà, problem solved.”

‘’Winola I can’t believe you’ve done this.” He dragged a hand down his face.

‘’I can. Come on Rob, people like you hardly exist in the world anymore. Everyone treats Pet’s like nothing. That’s why I’m so good at my job, I still recognize Pet’s have emotions and feelings like the rest.” She shrugged. He stared at the wall, face blank. ‘Rob? What are you thinking? Sunken in yet?’‘ She asked, poking his arm.

“I’m going to need a bigger house! He needs his own room! His own things! I have to move, don’t I? I need to make sure it has some kind of activity room, so he can experiment and try out new things, and oh!-”

Robert rattles on with both panic and excitement in his voice. These things have clearly been on his mind for a while, and finally get to spill out with the big new decision.

He goes on and on acting like a brand new dad as Winola only shakes her head.

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @moose-teeth @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @yet-another-heathen @sillypizzazineoperator @freefallingup13 @alien-octopus @unicornscotty @whumpzone @penny-for-your-whump @girlwithnoballons242 @whumpingredroses

o(^∀^*)o *:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading! <3

#whump #auction whump #caretaker #caretaking #hurt comfort #medicine whump #forced to take medicine #sick whumpee #i just now realized #I can technically end the series here if I wanted #But NAH #more Katastrophe #must strike first >:c #and fluff #whump fluff #rescued whumpee #whumpee

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

Text

One Day - Part 5

A/N: Hello magical tumblr friends! I hope you’re all doing alright. So...we’ve reached the middle of this series! I can’t believe I work four chapters in a week. Goodness! I feel on fire right now. I hope you like it. What’s about to come is just plain, simple, absolute drama.

For this chapter, I drew a bit of inspiration of a series called The Arrangement by @fandomsfeelsandfanfics. It’s not plagiarism or anything, but I did have it in mind as I wrote. All of this to say you should check it out if you haven’t, it’s an amazing series and I’m waiting for an update lol.

Finally, thanks for all your love and support

Here we go:

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) Word count: 2607 (oops...I did it again! (lol) I’m sorry it’s so long. I think this will be the longest chapter of the series). Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Masterlist

3 May, 2002

“(Y/N), you cannot lock yourself in your library forever.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Hermione,” she said, her voice hoarse.

The brown-haired Gryffindor rolled her eyes, trying to be playful, but there was a hint of concern she couldn’t hide. (Y/N) had been working nonstop. Headmistress McGonagall had offered her a position at Hogwarts. Without a second thought, she quitted at the Ministry and now spent a lot of time in her library, revising every book on DADA and making her best to create a study plan that was challenging and fun. She was also writing again. (Y/N) felt her life was heading in an interesting direction.

“Listen, (Y/N/N), I love you. We all do,” Ginny said as she dragged (Y/N) to her room, Hermione trailing behind them, “And we support every single one of your choices. But you cannot keep waiting for Malfoy to appear at your doorway and magically revive what you had.”

“Besides, he’s bad news, (Y/N). You’ve seen what they write about him in the papers. Not someone a respectable Hogwarts professor, like yourself, should be associated with,” Hermione pointed out, using what they now called her ‘ministry voice’.

“He is a good –“

“We know, we know, love. We know he can be a good person. He is – or was? – our friend as well. Not as close as he was to you,” Ginny raised an eyebrow playfully at this, warranting an annoyed eyeroll from (Y/N), “But we did help save him from Azkaban, didn’t we? So yes, we know he can actually be a good person. You just can’t go around saving him forever, dear. Don’t you realize most of his friends have stopped talking to him because of his behaviour? Merlin! Even Parkinson and Zabini are friendlier to us now than he is.”

“He’s chosen a path, (Y/N/N). He’s not trying to change. And even if he was, he’s not here. It’s time for you to move on,” Hermione reasoned.

(Y/N) sighed. She missed Draco way too much. Sometimes she wondered if he missed her. He hadn’t contacted her in a while. No owls, no visits, no cuddles. It had started out small, a bit of extra drinking during the week, an increasing amount of partying. Then every time she saw him, Draco was nursing a drink. Then the visits started to spread out. He’d always have a party to attend, an invitation somewhere and some sort of alcohol running in his veins. His letters stopped coming shortly after. As she got busier, (Y/N) ceased reaching out for him, tired of his excuses and self-destructive behaviours. She started mourning their friendship and her love for him.

At that point, the infamous articles were already a thing. Draco’s drunken antics had warranted him the moniker of “enfant terrible” and his misadventures were fuel for Rita Skeeter’s sensationalist quill. He always made the front page for the worst of reasons. Everyone had tried to talk some sense into him, to no avail.

“I can’t move on from something that never happened,” she declared in defeat.

“Well, more reasons for you to put this gorgeous dress on and enjoy your date with Ernie,” Ginny pressed on as she threw a blue dress over her shoulder.

“We’ll be waiting for your every detail,” Hermione added as she started working on your hair.

Ernie McMillan asked (Y/N) out at least five times before she accepted. In the end, she did because of her friends’ insistence. Everyone agreed she needed to go out. (Y/N) hadn’t been on a date for such a long time, even she admitted to herself the idea sounded tempting. She wasn’t particularly attracted to Ernie (she wasn’t particularly attracted to anyone whose name wasn’t Draco Malfoy), but she found him very sweet and patient. As the day approached, (Y/N) was getting excited about it.

Then, just the day before her date, she was invited for tea at Malfoy Manor. The affair had been so nerve-wrecking that (Y/N) came back home and cried her eyes out. She spent all night in her library, curled up in a ball. That’s where Ginny and Hermione found her. She had puffy eyes and seemed tired. They didn’t need to think too hard to guess what was the reason for her sorrow. It had been the same for a couple of months now. That’s what made them push harder for her to go out.

As Ginny helped her with her makeup, (Y/N) could only think about her visit to Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. The only time she had been in their lavish mansion, she had been tortured and put in a cellar with her friends. As she stood in front of the gates, she felt her hands clammy and her whole body shaking. Every fibre of her being was begging her to turn around and run. She felt the tentacles of her fear and trauma engulfing her again, trying to drag her down, reduce her to tears and panic.

“Are you alright?” said a voice she’d recognize anywhere: Lucius Malfoy himself had come to greet her. She saw a lot of Draco in his father. The striking grey eyes were almost too painful to look at. Lucius’ eyes didn’t hold for her the same affection Draco’s did, but she could recognize a mixture of respect and also a bit of fear. Was he afraid of her? Or was that concern? Did she look that frightened?

“Yes, sir. I was just…”

“Remembering?” he offered, an apologetic expression settling on his aristocratic features.

(Y/N) nodded in response. She tried to smile at him.

“I am glad you could come, Miss (Y/L/N). My wife and I have not had the pleasure of your company since the trials. We never got the chance to thank you for everything you did for us,” he said, motioning her to walk with him.

They strolled through some beautiful gardens. The flowers were blooming and the peacocks showed their beautiful feathers. As they entered the house, (Y/N) felt shivers down her spine. She had to stop for a second and take a deep breath. Lucius waited for her patiently. The walked up the stairs and move through different halls.

“We well be having tea at our living quarters. Narcissa is recovering from that hippogriff virus. Fortunately, it is under control, but my wife is still very delicate and needs her rest,” he explained as he opened the door to the room.

Narcissa Malfoy greeted them. She was seating up on the bed, her back pressed to a mountain of fluffy pillows. She wore an embroidered nightgown and her silky bedspread covered her up to her waist. She was a vision; even in the comfort of her bed, Narcissa looked like a queen. Her whole demeanour, even her seemingly informal attire, made (Y/N) feel underdressed.

As soon as (Y/N) was close to the bed, Narcissa grabbed both of her hands affectionately. It took (Y/N) less than five minutes in front of that majestic woman to decide that even if Draco was physically a copy of Lucius, everything else was absolutely Narcissa: his mannerisms, his smile, his way with words.

“I am so happy to see you, (Y/N),” she said, offering her a smile so wide that reminded her of Draco.

As Lucius brought her a chair and left to fetch the tea, (Y/N) felt really out of place. It was not only the looming idea that she was intruding, but also the way in which such domesticity seemed so strange to her. Draco had told her about his life growing up, how he had a seemingly happy childhood, even if his parents were – to an extent – emotionally distant. The Manor was huge for him alone, but his parents dotted on him and cared for him. (Y/N) imagined that this scene, three people sitting close by in the middle of a huge room, was a constant in Draco’s childhood.

As minutes went by and both women engaged in small talk, (Y/N) let go the idea that Draco would barge through the door at any moment. She then concentrated in her current situation, trying to figure out why would they, of all people, invite her over for tea. Narcissa noticed this and pursed her lips.

“I am going to be direct with you, (Y/N). I know it must be very strange, our invitation, I mean. I do wish we had done it sooner, for I have a lot to thank you. The matter at hand, though, is not a joyous one,” she explained, carefully, “we are very worried for our son”.

(Y/N) gulped. She was about to respond when Lucius came back, balancing three cups and a teapot. As he made his way to them. He served the three cups with effortless elegance.

“I hope you like jasmine tea, Miss (Y/L/N) ,” he said as he offered her a cup.

“Yes, it is excellent,” she answered, trying to adopt a posher inflection in her voice.

Lucius and Narcissa shared a meaningful look. “I was just telling (Y/N) how we are worried about Draco,” she explained, almost as a though it was a nuisance.

“Worried?” Lucius scoffed dramatically, “I am not worried. If anything, I am mad and disappointed. He is tarnishing the family name with his stupidity.”

“He is worried,” Narcissa decided. Lucius sighed and nodded in response.

They talked for a while about how he had gotten into drinking. It had started with a glass of firewhiskey every other day, then he was drinking every night, going to bars and partying until very odd hours. The conversation flowed between Narcissa and (Y/N), with Lucius adding his somewhat scathing remarks. They talked about the articles in the Daily Prophet and the stupid moniker.

“I have not talked to him in a long time, Mrs. And Mr. Malfoy,” she said at some point. Her vision got a bit blurry with tears, but she was determined not to cry in front of them. She tried to blink them away to no avail. She looked away. Lucius took her cup from her trembling hands and Narcissa enveloped her in a hug. (Y/N) started crying on her shoulder.

“I wish there was something I could do. I tried. I really tried,” she sobbed.

(Y/N) felt really stupid for how she was behaving. But both Narcissa and Lucius were surprisingly nice about it.

“Dear, we did not invite you here to ask you to do something. We know if anyone has tried to help our son, it has been you. I was really sick, you know? As a matter of fact, I almost died. If you ever get that hippogriff virus, please do take it seriously. When I was delirious, only two things truly worried me, (Y/N): one was leaving Lucius behind and the other one was Draco. My son’s life is an utter chaos as it is. And I know my husband and I have a very big responsibility and a lot of blame for his bad decisions, but I also know the kind of person I gave birth to. And he is a good person. I know you saw something in him. Something good. And as I started getting a little better, my heart was suddenly set on one thing. I needed to know you. I needed to know that someone out there genuinely cares for my son and sees him for who he is, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) felt her heart heavy with longing. She took Narcissa’s hands. “I love your son,” she said and immediately felt her face getting hot, “a –as a friend, I mean. It’s no secret we haven’t talked much in the last year…but I still care for him. I think I will always care for him.”

Narcissa squeezed her hands and smiled at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

As Lucius was escorting (Y/N) out of the manor, they bumped into Draco himself. He could barely stand on his own. He reeked of alcohol. His eyes were glossy and an easy smile was set on his face. Lucius frowned. The sight, however, broke (Y/N)’s heart.

“Hellooooo, father,” he slurred.

“Draco, where were you?” Lucius countered, trying to be as patient as possible.

“Around,” Draco said.

“You have been around for three days now. Your mother was very worried.”

(Y/N) winced. Draco took notice of her. At first, he didn’t recognize her (or maybe he didn’t want to recognize her), once he was sure it was her, he tried to stand up a little straighter. He gave her what he thought was a charming smile, but his mind was so hazy it was actually pitiful.

“Hello, Dray,” (Y/N) whispered, trying to keep her emotions in check. As she said this, though, Draco lunged forward clumsily and gave her a hug that felt almost like he was slumping onto her. (Y/N) held him in place, almost collapsing under his weight.

“I’ve missed you so so so so so so so so so much, (Y/N/N). I promise I’ll write more. I miss you,” he said, covering her face with kisses. His breath also stank of alcohol. Although his words were a consolation, his deplorable state made her very sad.

“Behave, boy. I thought I had raised you better,” said Lucius in annoyance.

He grabbed Draco by his shirt and pushed him away from (Y/N). Uncoordinated as he was, he fell on his bum. He searched for (Y/N)’s face, teary eyed. As they made eye contact, (Y/N) was reminded of a very small child. She wanted to cradle him in her arms again and reassure him that everything was going to be alright. (Y/N) knew that wasn’t the best idea. Her thoughts were echoed by Lucius, who, as kindly as possible, asked her to leave.

(Y/N) kneeled in front of Draco, who looked at her with a bit of sorrow and a great deal of confusion. She kissed his cheek and he smiled.

“Take care, Draco,” she said very softly.

Just thinking about that now, as Ginny blended her eyeshadow, gave her enough reasons to want to apparate in Malfoy Manor. She knew her friends were right; she couldn’t save Draco forever. She couldn’t change him either.

As Hermione and Ginny pushed her in front of her mirror, (Y/N)’s heart was shattered. She looked beautiful. The dress fit perfectly. Her makeup was incredible and her hair was twisted in a delicate braid. Somehow, even like that, she felt like hiding herself under her bedspread. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her doorbell.

Ernie had arrived.

…

“I can’t believe I’m going out with a published author,” Ernie said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh, it’s just a couple of short stories in The Hogsmeade Review. It’s not a big deal,” she answered before taking a sip of her wine.

“The Hogsmeade Review is a big deal, (Y/N/N),” he countered, “it’s where most big shot writers started. I believe Newt Scammander published his first essays there as well. Can you imagine your novels becoming standard Hogwarts readings?”

Ernie had a very articulated opinion on everything. At times during the date, (Y/N) would let him talk and talk and talk, until he seemed to exhaust his information on whatever they were now discussing. Did it bore her? To infinity and beyond. She couldn’t deny, though, that his enthusiasm was a bit infectious as well and she needed something like that at the moment. And, surprisingly, she wasn’t having a bad time.

So, when he asked her out for a second date, she bit the inside of her cheek and accepted.

tags: @naomi02hook @okaydraco @fandomscombine @iliketoast23

107 notes · View notes

swellwriting · 4 years

Text

Mistakes that Make and Break.

Fandom: Harry Potter, Marauders Era

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Mature themes?? Nothing major. Angst and immense fluffy sweetness.

Request: Remus doesn't know he has a 7th-year daughter until he teaches her?

Word Count: 4.4 k

A/N: Timelines and ages don't really make sense but let's bend the rules ok, this is the land of pretend. Also, I'm changing the year to 3 instead of 7 :))) This has been sitting in my WIP’s folder so I guess I should just post it lol.

Remus Lupin is not an easy man to find. After his friends died he sort of went into isolation, he wouldn't see anyone not even you.

You weren't even sure if he remembered what had happened, if he didn't care, or was purposefully avoiding you.

It was the night of Halloween, the same night Lily and James were killed. Maybe he blamed you and that's why he ignored you for that first while and then became totally unreachable for years.

But that night, seemed a blur, a tragic terrible and happy accident all rolled into one. You were at their Halloween party, you got drunk, told too many truths, lost your ability to stop yourself from staring at Remus the way you were. He was drunk, so were you, both dumb virgins, or so you thought, you weren't too sure anymore if he had lied.

He took you to his house, it was small and poorly but you didn't care in the slightest, he would usually be ashamed but he was too drunk to care and you were taking off your clothes in his bedroom so he was purely focused on that. He was all clumsy hands and toothy grins, messy curls in his face and too drunk to even care about you seeing his scars. He was considerate and sweet and funny and he filled you with so much hope with every sweet compliment he whispered in your ear.

You fell asleep shortly after, both drunk and tired, when you woke up Remus was gone and you had lunch plans with Lily so you had to go home and change, you were so excited to gush to her about Remus. You worried that it was weird that he left you alone in his house, but maybe he had somewhere important to be.

It wasn't until you apparated home that you heard the news, so many of the people you saw the night before were now dead, Lily, James and Peter, and Sirius was behind it all. You remembered taking shots with him that night, a sour taste fills your mouth and you quickly ran to the bathroom just in time.

It was easy to blame it on the drinking, the loss and sadness you were facing, that's why you felt so sick, for over a week. Then you blamed it on heartbreak when Remus kept ignoring you, avoiding you. You felt so alone, unwanted. When your period never came the following week you sort of saw it coming. It was like life was trying to make this horrible loss of your friends even worse. Making you pregnant by a man who won’t even acknowledge your existence or what happened between you. Your best friend was dead and you couldn't confide in her for help or advice.

You were alone, 9 months later your daughter was born and then you didn't feel so lonely anymore. You sent an owl out for Remus every month for the first few years, but you had no idea where he really was so they kept coming back.

You still thought about him all the time, the way he left you, broke you. You still hoped one-day he’d come back, that he wasn't dead somewhere waiting to be found.

Raising your daughter all alone was hard, you had your parents to help you but for most things, you were on your own. It became much harder when you found out your daughter had a specific gene passed down to her, one you didn't even know Remus had and one you had no experience with. When you found out you felt like nothing could get any worse, you didn't want to report your daughter to the ministry, you wanted her to live a free and happy life as best she could. You bought wolfsbane potion each month and even confided in the last person you wanted to talk to.

You wrote a letter to Sirius Black, you started by saying that you had no desire to talk to him, to know how he is or to hear his excuses but that you needed help. You told him what happened between you and Remus, about your daughter, and ever so secretly about her “unruly attitude” that was exactly like Remus “problem” and asked him how he dealt with that in the past, or if he even knew enough to understand what you were really talking about behind these codewords.

Sirius was quick to write back, somehow he was easier to reach in Azkaban than Remus was, where ever he might be, Sirius told you every trick he learned over the years to helping Remus and they all helped magnificently, the tips and tricks, the chocolate. When she was young she was easy to control but as she got older she became stronger, you loathed sending her away to Hogwarts when the day finally came. After making plans with Dumbledore, thanking him profusely for everything you mind was a little calmer.

Everything was going fine, as smoothly as possible until your daughter's third year. Even though you cried back in the first year when she told you she finally met Harry potter and he was so cool and nice and she definitely didn't have a crush on him. You told her all about him as a baby, his parents and the memories, but made sure to leave Remus out of them until she was older at least.

You had named your daughter Hope, after Remus’ mother, you had no idea what else to name her and you hoped that if he ever found out about her, this would make him want to meet her more, love her more somehow.

Hope couldn't help her crush on Harry, so when she saw him walking towards the Defence against the Dark arts classroom she walked up beside him.

“Hey, Harry!” She said excitedly, she wanted to tell him everything you told her this summer about his parents and him. “Hi Hope, how are you?” He asked, though his mind seemed to be somewhere else.

“Good, have a good summer, Harry?” She asked sweetly.

“Not particularly,” he answers and then stops right in front of the dark arts classroom, Lupin is standing inside, watching from his desk as the two students interact at his door.

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he answers quickly, “I have to go talk to Professor Lupin if you don’t mind,” he says and walks into the classroom.

“If you want me to cheer you up, my mum told me more stories about you, when you were a baby and about your parents,” she says and Remus wasn't really listening to their conversation until then, his head perks up.

“Maybe later, I've just-” Harry tries to make up an excuse but Remus is interested in what the young girl has to say.

“No rush Harry, there is time for a story. I’d like to hear it too,” he says and gestures for the girl to come over to his desk.

Something about her face is too familiar, though he knows he's never seen her before, she has a few faint scars on her cheek and forehead, brown messy hair, she’s lanky but still shorter than Harry.

“Hello, Mr. Lupin.” She says timidly, and he smiles at her, “I'm Hope.”

He nods his head as for her to continue and she does right away very excited.

“My mum says she was there when you were born and you were really tiny, so tiny that your dad was scared to hold you. And she says your dad was a really good Quiddich player, but you probably knew that because you're really good too. She says your dad once threw a quaffle and hit her right in the face and it was really funny because he felt really bad.”

The pieces started to fall together for him, clicking in his mind. The more she talked the more it clicked into place.

“Hope, who exactly is your mother,” he asks, as though he doesn't want to believe it.

“Uhm her name is Y/n Y/l/n, why Mr. Lupin?” She asks, completely unknowing.

“She is your mother?” He asks again as though he can't believe it.

“You knew her too, I mean if she knew my parents, and you knew my parents it makes sense?” Harry questions.

“I... I did,” he admits and he looks white as a ghost, both kids stare at him, wondering why he is acting so strange.

He is racking his brain, he hadn't seen you since that night at his place, when he left you there, the way he avoided you and ignored you. He tried to do the math in his head but his brain wasn’t working, who the hell could this girls father have been, he couldn't picture you being with anyone, for as long as he knew you, you only had a crush on him and then he ruined it. Did you move on that quickly? He shouldn't ask, it’s improper to but he can't help himself.

“Hope, dear may I ask who your father is?” Remus asks quietly and Harry is beyond confused at this entire interaction.

Her face goes pale, her bottom lip goes in between her teeth as she bites hard, her eyes travel between Remus and Harry before she quietly mumbles, “I don't know, sir.” and hearing those words makes his heart stops.

He stares at her for a moment, she has his messy hair, the same damned nose, similar scars decorating her face and he feels like throwing up. His head is spinning and he doesn't know what he is going to do. “Very well,” he manages to say. “Uhm Harry I'm rather sorry but I’ll have to talk to you later I have a lot of papers to grade, so if you don't mind,” he says and points a shaky hand towards the door.

“Okay,” Harry says and Hope follows him out the door like a puppy, they quickly fall into a much more normal conversation.

He isn't sure what to do with himself. He suddenly is filled with regret and self-hatred. He left you the way he did, with no explanation, he wasn't there for you after he lied to you, made you think that he wanted you, which he did but then everything changed. He ignored you, he thought you were just in love with him or something, feelings he couldn't process but in reality, you were simply just trying to tell him that you were pregnant. He left you alone to deal with the grief of such a great loss and then alone to raise your child. He missed out on so much of her life, he wasn't sure she would even want him anymore.

Then he remembered the scars and it hits him. Not only did he have a child he didn't know about but he had also passed down lycanthropy to her, he left you alone to deal with a child that had the rotten luck of getting his stupid gene. You who didn’t even know Remus was a werewolf, who didn’t know what you were signing up for with one stupid mistake of one night.

His heart felt as though it was snapping into a million pieces, her little happy smile replayed in his mind, the way she looked up at Harry like she admired him so much made his heart hurt too, the way she talked about her mom, talked about you.

You hadn't known Remus had been teaching at Hogwarts, your daughter wasn't assigned to his class and you didn't often read a list of the entire faculty of Hogwarts in your spare time. When your daughter started at Hogwarts you moved to the village of Hogsmead, this meant your daughter was never too far if she needed you, and you could easily visit her with the help of Dumbledore.

Tomorrow was the first Hogsmead visit of the year, your daughter would always come by the house with her friends and you had baked cookies expecting their arrival the next day.

Remus, after throwing up three times, and drowning in self-pity and regret, made his way to Dumbledores office keeping his head down to hide his sickly face and red eyes.

Dumbledore let him in quickly, with a knowing look on his face.

“You knew didn't you?” Remus said, not angry-sounding just looking for answers.

“Knew what Professor Lupin?”

“You knew I had a daughter, you knew she was here and you didn't tell me.”

“It was not my place to intrude. I knew you had a daughter, yes, but I only knew so much as Y/n told me.”

“What did she tell you? I haven't seen her in years since James and Lily died. I had no idea.”

“She came to me when Hope was starting her first year, she told me she hadn't seen you in years, couldn't get ahold of you no matter how hard she tried. She said she resorted to writing to Sirius for advice, and Sirius had told her to come to me for help just as I helped you when you started at Hogwarts.”

“She went to Sirius for help? How could she?”

“She didn't have another option, everyone she knew was dead and she couldn't find you.”

“I didn't know,” Remus says more to reassure himself.

“It wasn't my place to tell you about a child you had no idea about, I didn't know why you were avoiding her.”

“That's what you were hinting at, back at the beginning of this year wasn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you just meant Harry when you mentioned an “interesting student”, I didn't know. And she's like me and, I feel so guilty I don't even know how to tell Y/n, how to apologize I'm scared she will hate me.”

“There is a trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow.” Dumbledore states.

“And?” Remus asks confused.

“She moved there when Hope started school, so she could be closer. As far as I know, she never moved on. And she is one of the kindest people I've ever met, more forgiving than most. Be honest with her, I'm sure she will listen but don't tell Hope anything until you have spoken to Y/n, it's her decision if you get to be a bigger part of Hope’s life.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Remus says as he nods his head thinking deeply, “thank you.”

“Oh and Remus, “ Dumbledore starts and Remus stops walking and turns back, “I’d keep an eye on Potter.”

“You think I'm going to just forget about him because of all of this?” Remus asks, offended.

“Not at all, I was merely telling you to keep an eye out for Harry and Hope, she seems to have as some would say, a schoolgirl crush.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Remus curses as he walks out the door, head in his hands.

Remus goes to his room, he showers, nerves filling every inch of his skin until he resorts to sitting on the bottom of the tub and letting the hot water turned cold fall on his head, it isn't long until the water is mixed with salty tears. He is overcome with fear and shame and he brings his knees to his chest, hiding his face as he cries and cries, ribs shaking as he squeezes his arms leaving crescent moon marks in his fingers wake.

He tries to sleep but he can't, he feels so bad about Hope, about abandoning her for all these years, about abandoning you and he is so scared to face you.

When the time to leave for Hogsmeade comes around he tries to avoid everyone, not wanting to be asked why he suddenly has an interest in travelling to the small village.

The ride seems longer than usual and Remus pulls his thick sweater over his hands to keep them warm. He goes to the house Dumbledore directed him to and stands for a good five minutes at the front door before knocking, he wants to make sure he gets there before Hope does.

You have the cookies ready and you’re surprised to hear the door so early but excited to see your daughter none the less. When you open the door the last person you expect to see is standing there looking like a scared child.

“Y/n,” he says like the word is foreign in his mouth.

You take a step forward and then slap him across his face, not as hard as you could but hard enough to sting his skin. It’s easier to be mad at him, it’s the only emotion you can process right now. You don't want to feel the hurt, the sadness, the love you have deep down for him, the pain of being left behind and forgotten.

“How dare you,” you say, voice weak and lip quivering.

“Y/n please let me explain myself, I never meant to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? You have done more than hurt me.”

“I didn't know!” He whines, keeping his distance from you.

“You didn't know? Yes, you are right, you didn't know that you got me pregnant, you didn’t know you had a daughter, you’re right Remus. But you did know that I had a crush on you, that I had never been with anybody else, you knew I would have been alone after our friends died, you knowingly let me grieve for them all alone, you knew I was alive somewhere and you never once tried to find me, even just to be a friend. You may be innocent in some ways but in others, you’re not, and how can I forgive you for that without losing all of my self-worth.”

He sighs deeply, feeling defeated. ‘I know, I know I fucked up and I don't know if I can fix it or what to do but I found out you were here and even if you just stand there and tell me you hate me, I had to come to see you.”

The sadness in his voice breaks your heart a little, and you don't want to feel bad for him, but you also don't want your neighbours seeing you yelling at some man outside so you turn abruptly walking inside and leaving the door open. He hesitantly comes inside.

There are pictures of Hope on the walls, her artwork. There are pictures of James and Lily, ones with Peter and even Sirius is in the back of one but none of Remus.

“You never told her.”

“I was hoping you would come back and tell her yourself.”

“I’d like to. If you will let me.”

“Of course I will, just because I lost you, just because you don't want me doesn't mean that she doesn't deserve you in her life.”

“Don’t say it like that. Like I left because I didn’t want you.”

“What else am I supposed to think?” You yell loudly, scaring yourself as you sit down, gesturing to the opposite couch for him to sit on.

“I planned to stay that morning, I told myself that if you hadn’t left when I woke up that we would eat breakfast and I would tell you how I felt and even tell you about the worst parts of me, but I didn’t get the chance, I woke up and instantly found out the news, I ran out the door, I panicked I had to get out of there, do something. I hadn’t even thought about you at that moment and I'm sorry.”

You had no words to say to him other than words of forgiveness so easily threatening to spill from your sorry pathetic lips, it was so easy to forgive him and you didn't want to just yet so you stayed silent, letting him continue talking.

“After James and Lily died I didn't know what to do, I went into a dark place and hid away from everybody, you were never supposed to be a casualty, Hope was never supposed to be one either I just didn't know, I never in my wildest dreams could have thought of that happening. I had never been with anybody else I didn't know what I was doing.”

“I thought you lied about that part.” You admit and he frowns deeper.

“Why would I lie about that?” He asks, clearly offended.

“I don't know, to get me to sleep with you.”

“Oh because that's such an appealing trait, Y/n please fuck me I'm a dumb clueless virgin. Works on all the girls really.”

“Stop it!” You yell as you hide your face, “Don't make me laugh I'm mad at you.”

“I'm just being honest here,” he says as he stares at your face the trace of a smile gone after a second. “Y/n you are the only girl I have ever even thought about being with, the only girl I've ever had feelings for and I felt so worthless without my friends, I was sure there was no way you actually wanted me so I ran.”

“Oh, so when I slept with you that made it very clear that I didn't want you, when I was so obviously crushing on you for years that was a key indicator that I wanted nothing to do with you! All you do is make me feel like an absolute fool Remus! You left me for years, no letters, no calls and I still want you.” You admit and instantly regret it.

“You don't hate me?” He asks standing up and quickly trying to move closer to you.

“I hate that I don't hate you, I hate what you did but I have so much faith in you, that you can fix this.”

“Please, please let me try I’ll do everything I can do. Just give me the chance to fix this, to fix this relationship we never got a chance to try and also to fix things with Hope, I just need one chance I won’t mess it up,” he pleads with you as tears fill his eyes and it breaks your heart to see him begging you, you never imagined him coming back would be like this. And you're weak for him, oh so weak and you just want to hold him again, so you wrap your arms around him and pull him close hugging him tightly.

“Okay,” you whisper and by the time you release him from the hug you hear the door open. Four kids barge into the house and freeze when they see who is there.

“Mum? What is Mr. Lupin doing here?”

“It’s Professor Lupin, Hope. Not Mr.” Hermione corrects her and Ron and Harry just stand there confused.

“Uhm Hope, I need to talk to you, can your friends go back to the village and I'll walk you back over thereafter?” You ask her but she looks confused and she’s stubborn so she won’t let it go that easily.

“No, tell me what Mr. Lupin’s doing here!”

“Professor,” Hermione whispers and Hope glares at her, now not being the time to be corrected.

“I'm not really sure how to say this but-” You pause and Hermione's brain is working so fast that she realizes it before anyone else and interrupts you.

“Professor Lupin is your dad, isn’t he?”

“What no?” Hope argues, “I don't know who my dad is.”

“I never told you because I hoped one day he could tell you himself, I was honest when I said I hadn't seen him in years, that I couldn’t find him, I never imagined he would become a professor at Hogwarts. I never meant for it to be like this.” You try to explain, lost for words at the entire bizarre situation.

“I don’t believe this. You are missing for years, my whole life and then just like that you come back? That’s not fair.” She says crossing her arms. Her friends stand behind her, ready to do whatever she asks of them, whether it be staying and having her back or leaving her alone.

“Hope you can’t begin to understand how sorry I am, how much I will regret my past for the rest of my life, if I had known you existed I would have been here. I wasn't trying to hide from you or run away, I didn’t know.”

“One simple excuse doesn't make up for years of absence!” She yells and Hermione holds her arm, a soft comfort.

“I'm aware of that, but if you’ll let me I’d like to make it up to you,” he offers.

“What about my mum, you left her alone, regardless of whether I existed or not, how can I forgive you for doing that to her.”

“Hope, that's something me and your father will have to work out, you don't need to worry about that, I promise you if I didn't want him in your life and if I didn't trust him he wouldn't be here.”

“So just because you trust him, I'm supposed to too?”

“No honey, of course not, it will take a lot of time to become a normal family, It takes time to build love and trust I know that. Why don't you guys come in, eat some cookies and tell me about how your classes are going.” You offer the kids and as much as Ron wants homemade cookies, he waits with the others for you to decide.

“Okay,” Hope says finally agreeing to work on this. She walks over and grabs two cookies, shoving them in her mouth and taking a seat right beside Remus. Its something he doesn't expect and he freezes a little, you can tell he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know how to be a father. You grab his hand to reassure him.

“I guess I’ll be in your class next semester.” She mumbles as crumbs of cookie tumble from her mouth.

“I’ll be sure not to play favourites then.” he teases as he too takes a cookie before Ron and Harry eat all of them.

“No!” She yells playfully, “you better play favourites that's the whole point!”

“Noted,” Remus says with a smile and your heart feels so full, seeing them interact, having him back in your life no matter what type of relationship it ends up being you’re just grateful he's here and he is okay.

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corinnesamuels · 3 years

Text

Takes A Little Extra Time, But It All Works Out

I can’t live without you, set my goals around you

Takes a little extra time, but it all works out

Lily never had been a morning person.

And as the sun filters through the curtains of their bedroom window, casting shadows and streams of light across her face, James finds himself grateful for quiet moments like these, taking her in and marveling at how a sod like him had ever gotten so lucky.

He can’t imagine a version of his life without her, even on their worst days.

They’d had plenty of them. Their days as kids at Hogwarts before he’d grown out of being an arrogant berk. Petty disagreements that escalated into all-out rows . . . and then, as much as he’d like to forget it, there was the war.

He’d hated those days.

They had given up their lives to become soldiers. They were too young to have seen the things they’d seen during those years. The disappearances and deaths, the stories of torture. It had challenged everything they had thought they were. But Lily had been a beacon for him. Not just a girlfriend or a wife, but a partner he could literally go to war with. James had thrown himself in front of more wands than he could count for her, ready to give his last without a moment’s hesitation. She hated it, but she understood. She had often done the same for him.

And then they’d had Harry. Their beautiful, happy boy. James beamed with pride at the thought of their son, his spitting image, but with the same eyes he’d fallen in love with a thousand times over. He was perfect, even on the nights he cried all evening and couldn’t be consoled.

. . . Okay, he was a little less perfect on those nights. But his son hung the moon.

But somehow, before Harry had even started crawling, he’d ended up with a target on his back. He’d never forget the day Dumbledore told them that Voldemort believed the prophecy referred to their son. To his son.

They’d gone into hiding right away. James and Lily did their best to make their small cottage feel more like a home and less like a prison, wanting to focus on creating the best life possible for Harry and for each other. Harry and Lily had been troopers and kept him sane. He tried his best to hide how difficult a time he had been having with it, but he never had been good at sitting still for very long.

And just when it seemed like they were losing hope, Voldemort was gone, and they were free again. They could take Harry to the park and for walks in the pram. They went to quidditch matches, where he told his old teammates at Puddlemere that his son was a star chaser in the making and already had a better arm than them, the wankers. They retaliated by getting him pissed at the pub that night, and Lily was none too pleased. She spent the next morning hiding the hangover potion, letting Harry be as loud as possible in James’ ear, and cooing about what a great seeker Harry would be.

He’d married an evil genius.

Once she finally took pity on him and gave him the hangover potion, he took Harry’s miniature stuffed quaffle and did Quidditch drills with him in the back yard. Harry, still in nappies, spent most of the time distracted by various things and yelling “Kidish!” every so often. It mattered not. James had a point to prove.

Now that Harry was approaching his fourth birthday, James’ work of indoctrinating his son was paying off. Harry pulled James outside nearly every day for a fly, insisting on riding the toy brooms Sirius kept buying him for his birthdays until he wanted to fly higher and allowed James to fly the two of them on his Comet. Until then, James always hovered alongside Harry on his broom, ready to jump into action if necessary, though he was never too worried. Harry had a remarkably strong grip for his age. But yesterday, Harry had gotten distracted by an owl delivering the post, and James had to leap over the broom to catch him. He wasn’t quite in the same shape he had once been in, so the two Potters ended up toppling over into the mud.

Lily was none too pleased when they trekked mud into the sitting room after flying around for a little longer. James and Harry both grinned at her sheepishly, running muddy hands through their identical mops of jet-black hair. James tidied it up with a wave of his wand, and after giving Harry a bath and putting him down for a nap, he made sure to make it up to her thoroughly.

He was thinking of making it up to her again right now, actually.

He pulled her closer to him, and she nuzzled into his neck instinctively, still very much asleep. He ran a hand down her side, skimming the hem of her nightgown as he did some quick calculations. Remus was undoubtedly still exhausted from the full moon, so he wouldn’t have the energy to watch Harry, who had been giving the Marauders a run for their sickles lately. None of them remembered their joints being nearly as achy as they were after spending a day keeping up with Harry.

He hoped Sirius had been doing his stretches because he was about to call in a favor. Making up his mind, he reached for the mirror in his side-table drawer.

“Why do I get the idea that you’re up to mischief?” Lily said into his neck, making him shiver a bit.

“I’m calling Sirius to watch Harry for the day so that we can get into some mischief.” He said, rolling on top of her and pressing his hips into hers to prove his point. “Harry needs a sibling.”

Lily laughed, a tinkering sound that he could never get enough of. “Making this about Harry’s needs, are we?”

“More than one thing can be true at a time, love.” He said, kissing her on the neck. She sighed.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have time for mischief this morning. I have to check on the potions stores at St. Mungo’s today.”

“Have someone else check. I’ll pay them double their rate for the day.”

Lily laughed again, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re too rich for your own good.”

“We. What’s mine is yours, love. And I really don’t want to share you with St. Mungo’s today when we could be spending the day in bed.” He said, resuming his work on her neck and that spot behind her ear that he liked.

“Not even with Harry?” At this, James paused his ministrations and propped himself on his elbows to look her in the eyes.

“Harry is the most clever, beautiful boy in all of Britain, and a world cup chaser in the making.” He said, ignoring Lily’s eye roll. “But today is a day for him and his Uncle Padfoot to wreak havoc on some unsuspecting township not called Godric’s Hollow. I can feel it in my bones. And I’d very much like to feel you on my bones while they’re gone.”

She giggled this time, clearly enjoying his suffering, but James powered through.

“If we’re quick, we can get a round in before Harry wakes up and iron out the rest of the details la—”

The pitter-patter of tiny feet, followed by a crash in the hallway and the angry howls of their aging cat, quickly derailed that line of thinking. James rolled off of her with a disappointed groan.

Lily sat up and reached for her dressing gown. “I’ll go see what the damage is. You call Sirius and let Gringotts know your latest plans to be reckless with your galleons.” She said with a wink.

James’ eyes nearly bulged out his head, and he dove for the side table drawer with such force that he very nearly knocked it over. “Our galleons!” he called, as an afterthought.

He grabbed the mirror and called for Sirius. “James!” he smiled when his face appeared in the mirror.

“Padfoot! Listen, I need a favor—”

“James?”

“Sirius, can you hear me?” Something wasn’t right. They had never had trouble communicating through their mirrors before.

“James? Wake up—”

“Wake up? I’m not asleep. What’s going on?” A rat raced across the bedroom into the hallway. Where did that come from?

No, something was wrong.

He felt someone shaking him, and suddenly he wasn’t talking to Sirius, but Lily. He blinked twice in confusion, but there she was, shaking him awake, a one-year-old Harry—not four—babbling happily at her hip.

He’d had that dream again. The one where they’d made it to the other side of the war and were a happy family in a comfortable cottage, and not a family in hiding because a madman wanted to kill his son.

James deflated. It was the third time this week. It had felt so real this time . . .

“Dah-deeee! ‘ake up!” Harry yelled, bringing a soft smile to James’ face.

“Harry says it’s time for breakfast. Didn’t you, my darling?” Lily coos into Harry’s cheek.

“No!” Harry said with glee. It had been his favorite word as of late.

James chuckled and put on his brave face again. “Is that so? Well, I can’t let the two of you go unfed, now can I?”

He ran a hand through his hair before tickling Harry’s round tummy, kissing his temple as he giggled and squirmed in Lily’s arms. “Fairly certain this one wants porridge. But what does my beautiful wife want for breakfast?” James asked, kissing Lily on his favorite spot behind her ear.

“Mmm . . . surprise me. You’re quite good at that, you know.”

“Well, you know I’m not the type to pat myself on the back, but if you insist.” He lifted Harry up into his arms as she laughed.

They walked to the kitchen, and James set about making breakfast while Lily made tea. Harry sat in his highchair playing with his stuffed quaffle and the stuffed black dog Sirius had gotten him last week.

“You had the dream again, didn’t you?” Lily asked softly. James sighed and nodded, focusing harder than necessary on the empty stove in front of him. He didn’t want to worry her, but it was hard to do when he was worried himself.

Lily glanced at him before making his tea just the way he liked, which was, coincidentally, the way she hated. She handed him the cup, and he took it gratefully, running a hand through his hair after taking a sip.

She didn’t tell him it would be okay. They weren’t in the habit of making each other promises they couldn’t keep. But she squeezed his arm before coming to hug him from behind. “We’ve still got a lot of fight left.” She said.

He took her hand and kissed just below her wedding ring, the solitaire diamond and gold band that had once belonged to his mother. “We do.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head slightly, almost as if to clear out the dark clouds hovering over him. “Anyways, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What do you think about getting one of Hagrid’s pumpkins for next week? We can’t take Harry out for that barmy trick-or-treating thing, but there’s no reason he can’t have a great Halloween right here.”

“Where on earth would we put one of Hagrid’s giant pumpkins?” she asked, looking around the sitting room.

“We’re magic, love. We’ll find a way.”

Author's Note: Ah! I'd had this idea stuck in my head for months and finally decided to give this a try. I don't get to do much creative writing these days, so it was a fun pandemic activity. The post is also here on ao3.

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wootensmith · 4 years

Text

Harellan

He hadn’t sought out the Lavellan clan members who’d arrived before the Inquisitor. He’d longed to, wanted to ask them how she was, what had happened when she came home bare-faced and bringing strange tales with her, how she’d convinced the few of them who came to make the journey on her word alone. But after a brief conversation, the same he had with all new arrivals, he’d let them go and they seemed to be grateful to be out of his line of sight. He resisted prying and left them to Abelas’s care.

Months later, a few days after the Inquisitor had found him, he caught sight of her speaking with a clanmate near the gates of Andruil’s waste. She appeared troubled as the man spoke. When the clansman noticed they were being watched, he said, “I’m sorry, Hahren, I can’t.” He slipped quickly away, hurrying toward the training yards. The Inquisitor looked after her clansmate and then turned and caught sight of Solas standing just beyond the stone owl and smiled uneasily. He met her, feeling he’d accidentally interrupted something vital. He wished only to wipe the discomfort from her mind. “It makes me glad to hear him call you ‘hahren’. You have more than earned their respect,” he said. A bitter laugh burst from her and she shook her head. “He calls me ‘hahren’ because he refuses to use ‘lethallan’ any longer and he’s too frightened to call me ‘harellan’. Especially here. It is not a compliment.”

He watched the man scurrying between the small watchfires for a few moments before he disappeared into the city. “They think you have betrayed them?” “Is it such a surprise, fanor?” she asked gently. “The stories that guided us— our whole history, our place in the world, our hopes for what was to come— they have endured centuries. You tried yourself to change them. What hope did I have of succeeding where you and the world have failed? Deshanna was kinder. She just believed I’d gone mad. The others think the Andrastians sent me to poison them with lies.” She touched her cheek as if to trace the absent vallaslin and then flushed and dropped her hand, embarrassed. “I’m not certain which is worse,” she admitted.

“Ir abelas, Vhenan. I never wanted you to lose them. I wish that you had not told them.” “I had to try. I thought— they were my home, Solas. My family. If anyone in the world should believe me… but I asked too much of them.” He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the sorrow in her voice like a blow. “What did you want from him? Whatever he refused, perhaps I can do it in his stead.” She shook her head and her eyes filled. “I asked him to send Deshanna a message. To beg them to go to Skyhold until the end. But he does not trust me, even now, even seeing this place and you. For all he calls me hahren, he thinks I mean to harm them. Deshanna sent him to watch me, to shield me from the madness she thought I would succumb to. She told him that what I’d done in the Inquisition obligated them to protect me in my hour of weakness. That is why he came. And he stays because she orders it, not for love of me. I am a traitor, after all. To them. To Sera. To you.” She broke into a sob and fled before he could respond.

He was uncertain how to help. A message to Deshanna was easy enough. Whether she would believe it or the dream he constructed that evening would be another question. But if the Inquisitor’s clansmen would not do it themselves, he would make the attempt. What to do about her loss was something much harder. What betrayal could she possibly believe herself guilty of? She had been a kind and loyal friend to Sera. And to him— she had kept his secrets better than he had kept them himself. Brought him another way. Was trying to save them all. Harellan. How can she think herself so? The eidolon was dark and cold when he returned. He thought her still absent, somewhere in the shattered library or with Abelas in the training yards. But he heard a rustle from the crown before he could leave to search for her. She was in Vhemanen’s small room. It had been emptied when Vhemanen left for Skyhold. Solas had packed everything movable for her himself, wishing the riches of Elgar’nan’s foolish vanity had any use for his friend. It was chilled and barren. The Inquisitor sat on the cold carven tile, staring at the wall. He could just make out the soft sparkle of unlit veilfire, but the lamp sitting beside her was dark. He wanted to offer to light it. To show her what she obviously longed to see, though he had no idea if Vhemanen had left them or someone who was here centuries ago. He folded himself into a seat beside her instead, stared at the shimmer on the wall and wondered what she thought she could see in it. “I sent Deshanna your message,” he said. “I hope she will listen to it. I fear my cousins have already sent her dark rumors of you. She will think you are using me. Or that you, too, are mad. Or both. But perhaps— perhaps she’ll save them somehow.” She didn’t turn to him and he glanced at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She had been crying a long while. He looked back at the veilfire traces. “If she does not believe the written message, then I will find her in sleep. And each of your clan. Until they believe or flee to Skyhold to stop the dreams. I am sending Loranil to lead them there.” “Thank you. I think. Your method may be— a little harsh, emma lath. But if it brings them to safety— thank you.” He brushed her swollen cheek with his fingertips. “I do not feel like being gentle today,” he admitted. “Not when they dismiss you so easily.” She shook her head a little but did not argue with him. “I admit I can see how it happened, that they think of you as a harellan, as false as that may be. Because it was the same when I tried to tell the clans what they’d forgotten. But Sera? And I? How could either of us believe you betrayed us, Vhenan?” She finally looked at him, the glow of the mark flashing over the veilfire for an instant as she turned and then gone again. “Because all of me is a betrayal. From the very beginning. It was— simpler to ignore in the Inquisition. We were all far from home, from our peoples. Except— except I had the two of you. And it was easy to forget, in my clan, that there were other ways of being. Because I was enough to them. Then. I was right. Dutiful. Part of them. And then I tumbled from the Breach and into the human world.” She rubbed her knee and stared at the wall again. “They’d never want me. The humans. I was a necessary tool for them, and I always will be. For as many statues and parades and treaties they have about me, I’m just a thing. Not theirs. It didn’t matter so much to me, because except for our friends, none of them needed to know me. It wasn’t worth the energy to persuade the Empress or those like her that I was more than the anchor. I do not mean our friends. Cassandra and Dorian, Vivienne and Blackwall— they might not ever understand everything I do or am, but they accept me anyway. Love me anyway. The same for Bull and Varric. But you and Sera— I had to be more. And I failed. Every day, I failed.” “No,” he protested, reaching for her. “Yes. There is no way for me not to fail you both. Sera— wanted me to blend in. Because that’s how she survived. To cut out the parts that struck the City elves and the humans as odd. It was safer that way. The invisible elf is the perfect elf. The invisible elf gets things done. Strikes in the perfect moment. Betters the lives of all the others in quiet leaps when no one is looking. Sera is good at that. But me— everything I know, the way I speak, the paths I choose, the way I move and see and breathe— are not her ways. And no matter how I tried to bend myself into her shape, it was always just a matter of time before I did the wrong thing and the lie fell apart.” He caught her hand in his and pressed it tightly. “Sera loves you anyway, too, you know.” Her eyes filled again. “That makes it worse,” she said. “That I can never be what she wants. Or what you want. That I am and will remain undeserving. And outside. Ever outside.” “Tel vindhru. You are exactly what I want.” “I’m not, though I have tried harder with you than any other. I wanted to be part of you and yours before we even met. All of my clan did. We chased old stories and repeated rituals we did not understand. Because we wanted to be you. But even now, after learning all that I have, it escapes me. I cannot pretend anymore. For a while, when it was just you and I, I thought I might be sufficient. That maybe I could learn enough to get close to what you missed. That I could be your home, even if I was not the same as the family you remembered. But then, when we met the Sentinels— then I knew how very far I was from anything familiar. The way Abelas saw me… I realized it was the same way that you did when we first met. That I was— alien to you. That I would never be…” She trailed off. “Hare—” he cried and stopped himself before he could make a worse mistake. “This is false, Vhenan. I do not wish you to be anything but what you are—” “You did. For a long time. Maybe— maybe you stopped. Or maybe you gave up. I know you loved— love me anyway. But I’m not enough.” She let go of his hand and waved at the wall. “It is always like this. I find only the edge, the shimmer of things. The bare shape of letters and words and stories, but I will never catch their meaning.” He waved his hand and the lamp sputtered to life. “It is only because the world has become so dim and muddled. A little light and—” “No,” she said and her tears began again, glittering in the aqua veilfire. “It doesn’t matter. Because I was raised in the dark. These things you show me, that I dig up— they are corners. Fragments. I’m so far from seeing. You tell me it just takes a little light when I’ve only just realized I don’t even know how to open my eyes. I always feel I am pretending. Play acting. Not real. There will always be this— rift between us that I cannot close. How can I? My life is just a flicker to someone like you. A season. Lost among so many others.” She wiped at her eyes, suddenly drawing herself in again. “But it matters not. There are not many days left to fail you. And you are home, back among your people. More at ease than I’ve ever seen you. That makes me happy.” “You have never failed me.” He turned her face toward him, away from the cold, dead veilfire remnants in the wall. “Never. A flicker? No. If you had been only a flicker, that would have been enough for me to adore you. More than enough. I know my life must seem— terrible and vast to you.” He sighed, pressed his forehead to hers. “At certain periods, it has been. Time— does not move the same for me. There were decades of uselessness. Frustration. Boredom. And then ages asleep, just watching. Uthenera can be what you wish it to. Fantasy. Learning. Oblivion. There were entire centuries that I chose the latter.” He traced the fine web of the anchor at her temple. “I would not lie and tell you that you were my first or only love. There have been others. Just as I know there have been others in your life before me. Though they had many times your number of years, they all fell away. Made their quiet impressions upon my life and then moved on to other lives. They were flickers. None of them made me wish to alter my path the way you have.” She shook her head. “They were on your side. They wouldn’t have wanted you to change.” “They did. A few of them. You told me once, that you would always be on my side—” “I am, I try to be, but I can’t be, not the way you want. If I hadn’t been able to find another way, I couldn’t have joined you, Solas, though it would break my heart.” “Ar eolasa, Vhenan. But what I couldn’t speak then, what I desperately craved, was to be on your side. You are not a flicker. A tree of lightning, a searing comet, perhaps. Something that illuminates the world and lays plain everything that was hidden or wrong. You truly did change everything. I’ve seen eight ages, my love. Civilizations rise and collapse and rise again. Forests dwindle or march across vast plains. You think you aren’t important because of your brevity? I spent all those thousands of years trying to make the world worthy of someone like you. And yet you speak of failure. When all of mine steals your breath, your faith, your clan—” She covered his mouth with her fingertips. “I wish to belong to your people, emma lath,” she whispered, “But without those things you mourn, I would not exist at all.” “I know. I told you, you change everything, even how I think of my past.” He grasped her shoulder. “A rift does not flow in one direction, Vhenan.” He pulled from the anchor and the Veil trembled, slid open. “Solas! This is perilous,” she cried. The Fade slid around them, enveloping Vhemanen’s small room. He could feel the terror pulsing from the Inquisitor. “Have no fear, fanor. The Evanuris sleep still and I can still hold the anchor. I would not bring you here to harm you.” She was not soothed. He released her shoulder to hold her. “Do you remember when we were here together?” he asked. “We were whole, both of us. Not just the way I remembered before the Veil. Utterly whole. Did you not feel it then?” “I— yes, of course. But it was— a moment only.” He shook his head. “Bellanaris. All of my thoughts live inside it. This is our home. This is where we are most real. Soon, your clan will learn the truth of what you told them. Perhaps I am a fool to think the Fade will reveal what has so long remained out of your— our reach. That we will all, at last, be wholly who we should be. That there will be no rift between the people of the waking world or the spirits who inhabit the Fade any longer. But if the breach between us remains, I would leap into it to meet you, Vhenan.” He slid his hand around hers and loosened his control, let her again feel everything. “I cannot replace your family, nor do I wish to. They will want you back sooner than they realize. No matter what happens, you belong with me. How could we not be one people? You are my heart. You belong with me.”

#solas #lavellan #solas x lavellan #dragon age

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wollymalfoy · 4 years

Text

I can’t change who I am

Platonic Hermione Granger x Malfoy!reader

Description: Draco Malfoys twin sister gets sorted into Gryffindor and her whole life changes.

You knew you was different, even from a young age. You was the polar opposite to your twin brother Draco. You wasnt sure how you manage to save yourself from being brainwashed like your brother but you did. Even after the scolding, the punishments and the silent treatments you didn’t change. Your interest in muggles repulsed you’re father and he believed a bit of crucio may put you straight. It didn’t. Draco would often beg you to at least act the way your father wanted you to because he hated seeing you in pain, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help who you were. The months leading up to your first day of Hogwarts was full of lectures of how important it was to stay away from mudbloods and blood traitors and being put in Slytherin. You dreaded going to Hogwarts. Dreading the punishment that would come if you was put in any other house than Slytherin. God help you if you was put in Gryffindor. That wasn’t something you could change. ‘I’m definitely going to be a Slytherin, I don’t need to worry’ Your brother said as you both sat on his bed. You was happy that Draco would be free from your fathers wrath but you couldn’t help but wish he was like you. If he was like you you’d be able to run away together be your own people free from your father. But he wasn’t.

‘Malfoy, Y/N’ Professor McGonagall said staring down on you with a cold look. Your stomach churned at the thought of her thinking you was horrible like your father. Your sweaty hands gripped at the stool tightly from fear. You listened to the hat debate with himself in your head, he couldn’t seem to make its mind up. It was a few minutes before the hat finally shouted the words you was most dreading to hear, ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ Tears pricked your eyes as you looked over to Draco who was shaking his head, ‘there must be something wrong with that hat!’ He shouted. ‘The hat rarely makes mistakes Mr Malfoy’ Professor McGonagall said. ‘Well he must be wrong now!’ He said. But she continued with the ceremony. You sat in your seat at the Gryffindor table, heart beating and the room spinning. Thoughts of what would happen when your father heard of where you had been put flooded your head and you was unable to flush them out. You only remembered where you was when the Gryffindors began to stand and leave the room. ‘Come on’ said a sweet voice from in front of you. You looked up eyes glassy and stood up. ‘Y/N right?’ She said and you nodded, ‘I’m Hermione Granger’ you looked at her unable to form a sentence, you though of how rude you was being for not speaking to her but she spoke again, ‘I’m sorry you didn’t get in the house you wanted, was that boy your twin?’ you nodded again. ‘It must be Awful being separated from your twin. I heard the boys talking about your family, they’re what they call pure bloods’ she looked at you but you didn’t say anything. ‘Your kind don’t usually like my kind much. I’m a Muggle-Born you see, if you don’t wanna be friends then... that’s fine.’ ‘I don’t hate mudbl- I mean Muggle-Borns’ you muttered. ‘Good’ she smiled, ‘I think we’ll do just fine in Gryffindor, together’ you finally managed to smile at her.

The morning after the sorting you woke up feeling dreadful, you knew there would be a letter scolding you that would arrive any time now. You trudged down the stairs, feeling sick to your stomach. Waiting in the common room was Hermione, she smiled at you as she saw you and you forced a smile back. She babbled on about classes and what she wished to do first as you walked to breakfast. You listened only taking in parts of what the nice girl said because you couldn’t hear over your own beating heart. ‘You need to eat something Y/N’ she said as you sat at the table, ‘you didn’t eat anything yesterday either. Just try a little bit.’ She was right you can’t starve yourself so you added sugar to a bowl of porridge and began to eat. She smiled as she watched. The Weasley twins sat in front of you and gave you a puzzled look as you spoke to Hermione about how wizards travel. ‘Can I help you?’ You said softly. ‘It’s just strange’ George said. ‘You know, a Gryffindor Malfoy speaking to a muggle born’ Fred finished. ‘I’m not like them’ you said looking down. You heard screeches from above making you look up, a blanket of owls carrying packages of all sized covered the room. A large bird swooped down and landed in front of you. You took the letter from it’s mouth and before leaving the owl bit you. You gasped and stared at your bloody finger, you recon your father told the owl to do that. You didn’t even realise what letter you had until Hermione spoke, ‘your letters shaking and smoking Y/N’ she said confused. It exploded and your fathers voice echoed through the hall. Like you expected he scolded you terribly, ‘one more thing from you and you’re gone!’ He yelled. Tears forced themselves out of your eyes as you listened to his lecture. Hermione listened in astonishment and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to comfort you as you cried. After your fathers voice had gone you got up from the table and ran with Hermione following.

You found yourself in a bathroom, your head on Hermione’s shoulder. ‘Why doesn’t he like that your a Gryffindor?’ she asked, ‘I don’t know a lot about wizards beliefs.’ You explained everything to her, the way you had to be, everything to do with the beliefs of Malfoys and others like you. You don’t know why you opened up, you normally didn’t talk about anything serious but Hermione truly cared about you. Even from the little time you knew her you trusted her immensely. From that day forward you and Hermione stuck together. You’d sit together, work together and hang out together. She like you was extremely intelligent and she proved that your heritage doesn’t determine how magic or how smart you are. You two being the top of the class annoyed many people including your brother and his friends.

‘Y/N you are going to get disowned if you keep being friends with her’ Draco argued with you as you walked to meet Hermione at the library. ‘She’s my only friend draco!’ You yelled turning to look at him. ‘No she isn’t, you have me!’ He said furrowing his eyebrows. ‘None of your friends like me, I want to be friends with people that like me Draco’ you said sadly. ‘And I don’t want to lose my sister’ he stated harshly. ‘So what, when dad disowns me you’ll never speak to me again?’ You said tears pricking your eyes. ‘If’ he corrected, ‘you wont be because you’ll stop being friends with that mudblood.’ You scoffed and left him there. How dare he call your friend that horrible name. You didn’t want to have to make a choice over your brother and your best friend. You knew one day you would be disowned anyways, there wasn’t much you could do. You couldn’t change who you was.

The next morning you had another letter, you moved your hand away from the bird before it could bite you again. You read the letter from your father telling you that you would never be allowed back into the home. You covered your eyes with your hands and began to cry. Hermione picked up the letter and read it, ‘oh Y/N, they can’t do that to you, where are you supposed to go?’ You cried harder at this the sentence ‘you are no daughter of ours’ repeated in your head. ‘You need to tell someone, you can’t live on the streets’ she said furiously, ‘we’ll speak to McGonagall. When your ready’ she added when she saw you shake your head. That evening you did just as Hermione had said. Professor McGonagall said that she would find someone to take you in, you had no idea who would take you in you had no other family.

You sat by the lake with Hermione as you watched Draco walk past with his posse. You blood boiled, it must have been him who told your father! ‘YOU!’ You yelled getting up and marching over to him. He looked at you with a puzzled look. ‘How dare you tell father! How dare you get me disowned! I’m your sister does that mean nothing to you!’ You yelled unable to contain the anger you felt, the betrayal you felt. ‘I- I didn’t tell him-‘ he started. ‘DONT LIE TO ME!’ You screamed. ‘Y/N I didn’t tell him, I promise you it wasn’t me’ he said his eyes glassy, ‘why would I want you to be disowned, you’re my sister Y/N I love you. I- I can’t believe you’d think I’d do this’ he said voice breaking as he did. ‘Then who did...’ you muttered as hermione placed a hand on your shoulder. ‘I have no idea but I promise you it wasn’t me’ he said moving to give you a hug. You cried into his shoulder as he spoke, ‘I’m so sorry Y/N. I can’t believe they did this.’

It was the day before Christmas before you had word on who would take you in. Hermione was as anxious as you, as you waited these months for an answer. ‘Your aunt Andromeda has agreed to take you in Y/N. I believe you’ve never met her, is that correct?’ You nodded as you sat in her office. ‘She’s away at the moment so you’ll have to spend Christmas here but she’s ready to take you in soon after’ she smiled. Andromeda? You’d never heard your mother speak of her. You knew your mother had 2 sisters but one was disowned and never spoke of from that day on. Was that how you was going to end up? Your brother hating you and never contacting you again? You hated the thought.

You entered the common room and saw Hermione with Harry and Ron who she had become friends with on Halloween. She told you everything that happened and you all became friends, however the boys were still wary of you due to your relation to their enemy. ‘Y/N!’ She smiled, ‘how did it go?’ ‘I’m going to live with my aunt Andromeda, but she’s away now so I’ll be spending Christmas here’ you said sitting next to her. ‘We’re staying for Christmas too, so you won’t be alone’ Harry said. You smiled at the two boys, maybe they were warming up to you, it was about time.

The school year came to an end and you waited nervously on the train ride home. ‘What if she doesn’t like me’ you said to Draco, you had gotten your own compartment since you would be living apart for the first time in your life. ‘I’m sure she will. God I’m going to miss you’ he said staring out the window. ‘I’ll miss you too Draco’ you said sniffling. ‘We’ll see each other again, and I’ll write to you everyday’ he said moving to sit next to you, ‘besides, you’re free from father.’ Your heart dropped, you’ll be leaving Draco all alone with father, he’d have no one to come to when he’s been punished. ‘Come with me Draco’ you pleaded. ‘I can’t leave mother Y/N she’s already heart broken over you leaving.’ He said. ‘I didn’t leave, I was thrown out’ you said your eyes catching the train station. You watched as the train pulled up to the station looking out for your aunt and uncle. Come to think of it you had no idea what she looked like, let’s hope she looks out for the signature Malfoy blonde hair. You said goodbye to Draco and watched him walk over to your mother and father who acted as if you wasn’t there. You stood with your trunk and pet ferret in your pocket watching out for your aunt. You watched as children disappeared through the brick wall, you wondered whether she’d forgotten about you. A girl with bright pink hair approached you smiling, ‘are you Y/N Malfoy?’ She asked and you nodded. Her smile grew wider, ‘I’m Nymphadora, your cousin but I prefer you call me Tonks. Nice to meet you’ you shook her hand as her mother and father approached you. ‘Hello Y/N’ Andromeda said smiling, the man next to her waved and smiled. ‘Hi’ you said shyly. ‘You ready to go home?’ Ted asked picking up your trunk. ‘Yeah’ you replied happily. You walked through the brick wall with Andromeda’s hand on your back. Maybe staying with the Tonks’ won’t be so bad after all.

Thanks for reading! :)

Requests are open!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #golden trio era #harry potter #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger #hermione granger fluff #platonic #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley

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serpentes-lupus · 4 years

Text

Two Wolves

Have some little writings that I did for this AU of Tarra and Chiara. I haven’t written in a long time so I’m very rusty when it comes to details and stuff so I apologize if this is short or lackluster. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Hit that like and reblog button and let me know if you want to know more of this AU!

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Having a werewolf for a friend is rather unusual. And being a wizard, you should expect the unusual!

Tarra Lyall had made friends with a student who resides in the Hufflepuff House. That friend is Chiara Lobosca. Of course, their friendship did not start off on the right foot as Chiara had saved Tarra from Fenrir Greyback’s attack on Hogwarts but that didn’t automatically make them friends. Despite receiving a facial scar from Fenrir, Tarra was not affected by the attack and sought Chiara out before their first year ended but Chiara was nowhere to be seen.

It was only in the second year when reports of another werewolf attack had occurred near the Forbidden Forest that their paths crossed again. Only this time, Tarra was stubbornly sticking to Chiara, hoping that the reclusive Hufflepuff would see that having friends isn’t so bad. Throughout their investigation, Chiara saw that Tarra was honest and true about her motivation for a friendship between them and that was put to the test on the faithful night of the full moon.

“Chiara, I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to get a hold of yourself!” Tarra cried, watching her friend howled and snarled at her, her fangs glistening in the moonlight. “Remember who you are! Remember your goal to invent a better way for werewolves to manage their condition. You want to help all those werewolves in need. But you can’t do that unless you get through tonight.”

Without having taken the Wolfsbane Potion for the following weeks of the full moon, it would be impossible to get through the changed Chiara. Tarra knew this but she had to try. Unfortunately, talking wasn’t working and Tarra had no choice but to use force to aid Chiara.

With her wand at hand, Tarra conducted a battle against Chiara, using spells that won’t cause too much harm on her friend. Being a second year, Tarra didn’t know a lot of combat spells, resulting in receiving a couple of shallow scratches from the silver werewolf. Episkey may heal these scratches, hoping that Tarra won’t be sent to the Hospital Wing if the healing spell doesn’t work.

Luckily, those fangs of the werewolf didn’t make contact with any part of her skin, saving her from becoming a werewolf herself.

The battle was hard. It seems like Chiara was overflowing with stamina and energy, and Tarra was concerned that she won’t be able to beat the werewolf into submission. While Chiara wasn’t backing down, Tarra was soaked in her sweat, her breathing raspy as exhaustion was hitting her. She had enough energy for one last spell and she has to put everything she has in this one last attack. With all the strength she can muster, Tarra pointed her wand at a charging werewolf.

“Flipendo!” She exclaimed, a blue spark flickering at the tip of her wand changing into a purplish-red color.

The spell directing hit Chiara, sending her backwards harder than any previous flipendo that Tarra has ever cast before. Chiara hit a brick wall of the Training Grounds before she slumped to the ground. Tarra, becoming concerned that she hit Chiara harder than she meant to, moved towards her werewolf friend before stopping in her tracks. With a low growl, the werewolf began to slowly get back on her hind legs.

“Mierda,” Tarra cursed, her knees buckling underneath her. Her arms left like lead and her feet sore from the running and dodging. She doesn’t know if she can keep this fight up.

Looking back at the werewolf, Tarra was surprised to see the sight in front of her. Chiara was wobbling side to side, a weak whine escaping her mouth.

“Chiara?” The Slytherin cautiously called out. Chiara made no response, her gaze dazed. It seems that Tarra was able to subdue the werewolf and maybe now she will be able to get through the werewolf. “Chiara, you’re strong! You can get through this! And you’re not doing this alone! I’ll be here for as long as you need! I won’t let you hurt anyone or yourself!”

Unfortunately, Tarra didn’t really keep that promise. She could feel the scratches on her body stingy from the chill in the air. No doubt a bit of blood may have stained her uniform shirt but Tarra hopes that Chiara won’t learn about this.

The dazed werewolf stared at Tarra as she spoke. The Slytherin took this as a sign that Chiara was listening to her. “Because I’m your friend!” She said, a smile on her face despite being bloodied and bruised.

Chiara stared at Tarra, her battered body weakened from the fight. Silence fell between the two, both watching the other closely. Finally, the silver werewolf raised her head towards the sky and let out a long howl before turning away and rushed off towards the Forbidden Forest. Tarra wished she could follow her friend, to ensure that she was safe for the rest of the night but her body was aching. She had to trust Chiara that she will be okay until morning.

The rest of the night, Tarra recovered Chiara’s photo of Hogwarts at dusk and she used Episkey on her shallow cuts and bruises, but the blood on her white shirt told the story that something happened. Sneaking back to the Common Room wasn’t easy, having some Professors and Filch patrolling the corridors but thankfully, Tarra didn’t get caught and slipped back into her dormitory, quietly changing her clothes and hiding the bloodied ones. She will have to find a way to clean it tomorrow, or discard it somewhere outside the castle.

The next day, Tarra checked up on Chiara, wanting to see if she was doing okay after her transformation and their unwanted fight. She, herself, had a small limp to her walk and her body felt rather banged up from the fight. But she had to put up a brave front. She can't give off any hints that she was harmed. Chiara would never forgive herself, let alone let Tarra come near her ever again.

The Slytherin was happy to know that Chiara was fine, just a bit sore from all of the Flipendos that Tarra casted on her.

“I can’t believe you didn’t run away when you saw me transform.” Chiara whispered, her voice low, afraid that someone might overhear them. “Weren’t you afraid?”

“Of course not!” Tarra responded without skipping a beat. “Like I said before; I’d still stay by your side, Chiara. Because being friends with you is worth the risk.” She smiled at Chiara.

Her answer surprised Chiara. Tarra has been by her side throughout this whole ordeal, including during Halloween of their first year at Hogwarts. Helping her gather the last ingredient for her Wolfbanes Potion even after being told that she is a werewolf. Even keeping the information about being a werewolf a secret from Cecil Lee.

After what happened with her childhood friend, Chiara was convinced that having friends will end tragically and that is why she kept away from Tarra.

But Tarra truly cared for Chiara. The 12 year old Hufflepuff felt warm from this revelation, a soft smile spreading on her lips. And as her first gesture of friendship, Chiara let Tarra keep the photo that once belonged to her.

---| Year 3 |---

“And then this rooster comes rushing out of nowhere, chasing both me and my cousins like a raging Hippogriff!”

It was the second day of the third year at Hogwarts and many students were catching up with friends during breakfast and between classes.

Tarra was talking to Rowan as they made there way to their second class of the day. As they walked, Tarra was telling her friend stories from her summer break. Her current story was her time at her uncle’s ranch where she and her cousins were messing around with the hens and chicks, which upset the rooster who was guarding nearby.

“Let me tell you, being pecked by a rooster is not fun.” Tarra laughed while Rowan shook her head.

As they pass the Courtyard, a voice calls out to the Scottish Slytherin. “Tarra!”

Looking over, Tarra smiled when she saw a silver haired Hufflepuff. “Chiara!” She grinned as the other student waved at her with her own smile on her face.

During the summer vacation, Tarra and Chiara exchanged letters via owl mail. It was great building their friendship since the werewolf investigation. They both shared what was going on during their summer break while getting to know each other some more like what their parents do as a career, if they have any siblings or how big their family is. Even though the exchanging of letters was fun, it wasn’t the same as in-person interactions.

Tarra made their way towards the silver hair Hufflepuff, momentarily leaving Rowan a few feet away. Rowan was curious, remembered seeing Tarra talking to this student in their first year and a bit more in their second year, but she didn’t know that they became friends. It felt kind of weird but it’s not up to Rowan to decide who Tarra makes friends with. But she had thought that, since Jacob almost ruined her family because of all the stories and rumors that were made about him, people wouldn’t want to be friends with Tarra. It was now the complete opposite.

Watching the two chat, Rowan picked up on their conversation.

“Sorry that my letter arrived later than usual. That week...wasn’t a good time for me.” Chiara said, eyes moving downwards to the ground.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad that you’re okay.” Tarra replied, a soft smile on her face. Her eyes told a silent message, one only the pair know and with this look, Chiara relaxed and returned the smile.

The two fell in an awkward silence before Tarra quickly perked up. “Hey! Did you get the souvenir I sent ya?”

“Oh! Yes, your owl dropped it off before I left for Platform 9 3/4!” She answered before pulling back her sleeve robe. On her wrist was a bracelet that is a single string band. It was decorated with turquoise and silver engraved beads with a few yellow beads in between, and in the center was a slightly bigger bead that was light blue in color.

It was known that Tarra gave gifts to her friends but it still surprised Rowan. This was the first time that Tarra gave anyone jewelry as a gift while Rowan, Ben, Penny and Bills got more like knick knacks that one would use to decorate their bookshelves or walls.

“It fits perfectly,” Chiara said, recalling in the letter that Tarra was concerned that the bracelet would be a bit big. “I really like it too! Thank you, Tarra!”

Rowan would have thought she was seeing things but it was clear as day. Tarra smiled in response but one would think that is normal. But this kind of smile was different. This smile was warm and bashful, and her bronze eyes shined with overwhelming joy. Even her stance showed that she was slightly embarrassed at Chiara’s positive response to her new gift.

But that’s not all.

As Tarra responded in her own words, her smile gentle and sweet. “Heh, I’m glad.” Rowan saw a blush forming on her friend’s cheeks.

Does...does Tarra like Chiara?!

---[A Month and a Half Later]---

Despite being in separate houses, and Tarra balancing being a Quidditch player and curse breaker, she managed to make time to hang out with Chiara whether between classes or during the weekends. Even though it’s the beginning of their third year and they barely became friends in the middle of second year, it feel as though they have been friends for a long time. They flow naturally into their conversation, going more into detail about the letters they sent to each other. Tarra was surprised to learn that the quiet Hufflepuff is into punk music. Their conversations would also consist about their classes and the topic of what electives that they were taking came up. While Tarra took Study of Ancient Runes, Chiara was taking Divination.

“Seers are known to predict future events,” Chiara said as they walked through the corridors, heading to the Great Hall for lunch. The corridor was bustling with students, chatter filling the air all around them. Students were ready to eat, several hurrying to get some food in their belly. Or just to meet up with friends.

“Although, a Seer wouldn’t know that they just said a prophecy, having someone else to write it down for them.”

“I heard that Professor Trelawney isn’t….accurate with her so called “prophecy”.” Tarra responded, softly grimacing at the image of an over exaggerating professor to make themselves took authentic.

“Yes, there are some…awkward moments but the subject is still fascinating.” Chiara sheepishly laughed before perking up. “Did you know that centaurs are seers as well? They have their own form of Divination.”

And off Chiara went about the subject.

Even though Tarra wasn’t interested in Divination, having seen so many muggles pretending to be seers and her own father’s rough childhood, the class subject just leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

But seeing Chiara rather excited about the subject caused Tarra to smile, listening to every word. She didn’t had the heart to tell her of her distaste of the subject when Chiara looks so happy talking about it. Heck, anytime Chiara became enthuastic of whatever they could be talking about -- it can be about freaking waffles for all she cares -- and Tarra would find herself smiling.

Unbeknownst to them, they were being watched from another crossing corridor. Rowan, Ben, Penny and Tonks were watching from the opposite of the grassy courtyard, spotting Tarra watching Chiara closely, her expression soft and warm. It’s like the outside world didn’t matter to her as all of her attention was on the silver haired student.

“Now I see what you mean Rowan,” Tonks smirked. “Tarra might even be smitten too.”

Rowan was curious to Tarra’s relationship with Chiara. Rowan doesn’t know who Chiara is, having only seen her on occasion in the Great Hall but never gave her much thought until Tarra started hanging out with her. Even though Rowan made friends with Ben and Penny, and everyone has to their right to make friends outside of their social circle, Rowan couldn’t help but be curious after what she saw a few weeks ago. Especially after seeing that blush on her friend’s face made Rowan think that something else is going on. Maybe these two are more than just friends but how can that be possible? They just started hanging out, right?

She had shared her suspicion to the others, causing them to be just as curious and were now spying on the pair whenever they can. Being a bunch of teenagers, crushes and romance are always hot topic for students to talk about. It brings out more excitement outside of class. So of course the rest of their friends became curious and excited.

“I know that Tarra hangs out with all of us, but I feel like she makes more effort to hang out with Chiara.” Rowan pointed out, the group remaining in the shadows.

“You’re not jealous, are you dear Rowan?” Tonks teased before raising her arms defensively, a smile on her face as her friend became flustered.

“Of course not! If I was, none of you would be friends with her!” Rowan shouted before covering her mouth and ducking away. The group peeked back but saw that they weren’t noticed by Tarra or Chiara, the corridors still active with students, Rowan’s shouting being died out by other chattering.

“W-we shouldn’t be spying,” Ben stuttered, glancing around nervously. “Besides, i-if Tarra fancies Chiara, it’s not any of our business.”

However, he was huffed at and looking over, it was Penny with a disgruntled face and arms folded across her chest, cheeks flushed. “It should be our business. She’s a friend. We should have known about this. I should have known about this.” She sneered before stomping away.

The trio watched Penny’s retreating figure with baffled expressions.

“What’s biting her?” Tonks asked and Ben shrugged. Rowan, however, watched with a sharp eye.

“Do you think…that Penny’s jealous?”

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Again, hope you guys enjoyed it! I will be doing more of this snippets for this AU. Maybe it will be companied with my own drawings! Anyways, thanks for reading!

#tarra lyall #chiara lobosca #rowan khanna #nymphadora tonks #penny haywood #ben copper #my writing #my art #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery mc #jacob's sibling #tarra x chiara #mc x chiara #chiara x mc

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mimiplaysgames · 5 years

Text

the stars bear witness

Terraqua Week Day 2: Future Masters

Summary: Underneath the responsibilities of Keyblade Mastery are two adults who are still figuring out what to do. Terra and Aqua sneak away for a quiet moment together.

Notes: Today is the day - this was supposed to be my Terraqua Zine piece but I scrapped it for another idea. It’s given me plenty of grief but I’m glad that I can dust it off and finally share it. I hope it’s enjoyable! @terraquaweek

Read on AO3

Some nights, like tonight, are stronger than the friends I have with me.

There’s a place deep in the woods, right by the riverbank, were the Master used to meditate. He believed the energy there gives us second chances - something about the way the water strolls without a care to look back or to know where it’s going. Right now, it sounds like a fantastic idea.

When I say I want to go, Aqua doesn’t bat an eyelash even though it’s the middle of the night; it’s late enough that we both know sleep has left long ago and shut the door behind it. She’s more than ready to peel herself off the most boring book in the library and her eyes have already frozen themselves open.

I get why she’s taking her teaching duties so seriously, but I don’t see the point in making it that much harder to be awake for her lessons.

In spite of that, she gives me a lazy smile, and invites herself. “I know you want me to go with you, anyway,” she says, and it’s completely true. I used to get so annoyed at her for reading me so easily.

We whisper and tip-toe across the castle, even though it’s humongous and there’s no way the other students would hear us. I know this for a fact. I know because I can hear their heartbeats, doors away, slowing down as they fall into slumber. That sounds completely crazy, I know - it’s a power that stayed with me since my days in darkness. I’ve been a literal bodyguard on behalf of anyone who used me this way for over a decade, and so… the skill is burned into me. Aqua doesn’t know yet, and no, I’m not proud.

Yet for some reason, I can’t bring myself to speak to her at a normal volume and tell her that they’re soundly sleeping when she’s darting looks around to see if we bothered anyone. She takes my hand when the cold breeze nips us, and I lead her down a trail that sneaks far away from the security of the training grounds.

We used to hold hands like this as kids: always stay together and keep each other safe, per the Master’s rules. I can’t lie, I’m glad we haven’t dropped this habit even though we don’t need it anymore.

Or maybe I really do need it. I never wanted to go alone, and… I guess there’s always that one possibility something might go wrong.

Remembering what I’m capable of almost makes me want to cancel this night out, tell her to go back inside and try to sleep as I walk it off into the forest, where the lanterns don’t shine.

But I know her, and she hates conversations like this.

She’s stubborn too, conjuring herself a little companion, an orb of light, to lead us the way into the ticket so we don’t get lost. It drips dotted sparkles on the ground, like a pathway back home when we’re done. Very handy. It’s almost like she nearly expected me to object on her behalf, because I know the dark isn’t good for her, and she’s already nipped the conversation before it can happen.

Yeah, it’s good that Aqua is with me. She’s usually the smarter one - usually, when she’s not mad. Despite her expertise, I’d say she’s probably fire where I’m icy. She’s soft when I’m rigid, understanding when I’m short-sighted. She’s light when I’m darkness. When I’m blind, she sees.

We approach the river hidden by weeping willows, where logs wait for us to sit and watch the ripples stroll by. There’s more than a million lanterns in the sky to see out here, but I think I now realize I’ve never needed one to guide me back home when I have her.

It’s nice, just being away from the castle and be… us. Terra and Aqua, instead of respectful Keyblade Masters who are admired and perfected in the minds of others.

Masters… I start talking about the Master, how he said the stars keep watch over us. It’s what keeps us all connected through a stronger light. The three of us believe that he’s up there somewhere, watching what we’re doing right now.

“He used to say that if you cried out here, under the stars, we’d be able to hear you from the other side of the mountain,” I say.

“That’s right, I completely forgot.” Her whisper gives out, shivering until it makes sound. Her fingers are locked with mine, and her gaze travels somewhere else. Whatever she’s remembering is a happy thought. “I’m glad you haven’t changed.”

Of all the things she could have said, I’d never understand what possessed her to say that.

“You know what I mean,” she corrects herself when she sees my face. “I’m glad you remember these things. It makes me feel like I’m back home.”

“You mean, you don’t feel like-?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “it’s not.”

When it’s this quiet between us, I hear the crickets. I can even feel them rub their wings together.

“Well,” she says with a kick in her voice and a squeeze of my hand. I hear how proud she is of herself for being a teacher. “Ready to practice?”

No, thank you.

“Sure.”

It’s a good distraction for her, giving me private lessons. No one really tries to treat her any different, and certainly Aqua would prefer to befriend our students. At the same time, in the classroom, she is Master Aqua, Survivor of the Realm of Darkness.

But when Aqua has her mind set on something, it’s tunnel vision, and there’s something nice about that when I’m unsure.

It’s probably why she encourages me to do it here, away from the scrutinizing glare of the castle walls in a forest that doesn’t care what our names are. Here, there’s no talk about how to define a Keyblade Master, or what our next missions are and how long we’ll be separated.

Straddling the log underneath us, Aqua holds out her hand, her glowing orb as white as a pearl hovering above her palm.

I ask her for the third time if she’s okay with this.

I don’t know if she ever tires of reassuring me, but she does again with no complaints.

I can’t really compare to how she’s so willing to face the darkness despite what she’s been through. She’s braver than me.

What I can say for sure is that we’ve never once considered there would be a day when my hand would hover above hers like this, that I’d will darkness to pour out of it slowly, skating the surface of her light, its tendrils wrapping it in a small embrace.

Eerily, it feels like brushing her cheek, or rubbing her palms. Whatever I’m touching feels as real as holding her. Which terrifies me.

The point is to cover the orb entirely without smothering or destroying it. But it’s an accident that happens too frequently, like I hurt her without meaning to, even though she keeps saying she’s not in pain.

It happens because her light is vivid and powerful, and I have to exert a tremendous force just to do a decent job of covering it, and I always do too much.

I hate it when I do that.

I hate that I still have darkness.

Aqua wants me to stop feeling ashamed over it, but she doesn’t understand what a hard request that is. I can’t not feel ashamed, and of course I stop before I even try.

“Terra,” she says when the tendrils let go, when I draw the energy back into my hand and pull away. “I don’t want to push you but…”

“I know.” We all have darkness. We all have the capability of getting swallowed by it. Since it will stay with me forever, might as well be at peace with it.

After all, if I don’t ever want to hurt her or Ven again, it’s something I have to control properly.

Her other palm rests on the back of my hand, leading it back over the orb and she keeps it there, sandwiched in-between her touch. I like it too much to tell her that it’s distracting.

Then of course there’s that nagging need at the back of my mind that wants to impress her, that wants to prove myself so I stop thinking about what her touch feels like and try again.

I hold her with my other hand. It’s palm on dorsal on palm on dorsal, like we need to delicately contain the light and darkness in-between, like what we hold in our hands is a safe space for me to make mistakes, to make her light flicker, to make darkness spit and burst out from the sides. As long I don’t destroy what she has, I can find some way to sleep without feeling like shit about myself.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she says to me.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. She says this to herself each and every time before she walks into a dark room when she thinks no one can hear her… when she thinks I don’t notice how her shadow quivers.

“The castle is safe,” I reply and she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “I can’t say the same for myself.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Maybe I am. “There’s more to it.”

If there’s anything I appreciate about Aqua, it’s how she doesn’t let me go. It’s how she waits for me to finish without prodding. She knows me, she knows I’m scared to say what’s next.

So I start the only way I know how.

“There’s a rabbit too terrified to move out of a hedge back there.” I point behind me, listening to the escalated heartbeat hiding in that bush. “Let’s see, there’s an owl watching for prey and it doesn’t care we’re here.” I nod my head towards the direction across the river, where the shadows are very still.

The more I speak, the harder her stare becomes. I speak with ordinary words but nothing is making me sound like a normal person.

“What are you talking about?”

I breathe first. It does shit to calm me. "I can tell where everyone's shadows are. I can feel them move." It takes a second to realize that I'm staring at our fingers, where darkness slips through the cracks because it's too intimidated by the light underneath. "Think of it as a leftover tip from the Thing."

The Thing, of course. The other Keybearers call it the Guardian but I've never felt like I did a good job with such a title. We've talked about the Thing many times, and I'll hear stories of how the others came across it, and how it stalked them during fights, and I simply get too tired to even broach the subject anymore. I don't know why I even bring it up now. This darkness comes from the Thing and I would rather scrub myself clean of it.

But she laughs, and I swear my heart forgets to beat. "Is this what Ven meant when he said it was impossible to sneak up on you?"

“Did he seriously say that?”

“Yeah,” she sniffs. “He doesn’t understand how you always know where he is when he hides.” She hums, like she’s grateful for the laugh. “He thinks I’m crazy for not noticing but I thought he was exaggerating.”

“He wasn’t.” Thinking about him automatically makes me think about rolling around, about excited conversations and Chirithy patiently waiting on the edge of the bed. “Right now, Ven’s not even sleeping. He’s just talking to Cheers.”

“Is that right.” Sounds like he’s going to get the surprise of the morning when she’ll bug him about procrastinating on his beauty rest.

She takes a moment to think, a small smile breaching her face. “So, when I ask you if there is something creeping around the castle...?”

“There’s really nothing.”

She smiles, gripping my hands harder. Tears fall, like she’s been told that she’s going to survive. Her eyes thank me. Wow, I never really thought about it, if I did that much good for her.

“Why are you still so hard on yourself, though?” Her smile fades away.

There’s a thousand easy answers to that. “Because I don’t want to have this. Everyone else gets to grow up as typical Keyblade Wielders but…”

She nods.

“I also have an unwanted gift from the darkness.” At first she doesn’t look at me when she says that, her smile morphing from its temporary joy to a familiar melancholy.

I wonder if she knows how sad she sounds all the time.

She lets a hand go free, finding its way to her chest as she flutters her eyes closed. Suddenly I’m reminded of her first magic lessons, when I thought it would take her forever to cast Fire because she needed to take ten minutes to concentrate before even trying.

Now, I can’t gauge how much time passes by in silence before something finally happens. A cold, humid wind trickles by us, despite that it’s summer.

Here I am, vulnerable and unprepared with my legs wide over a log, and I’m surrounded by many Aqua’s, her orb of light almost shedding through them. Most of them look down on me, angry, disappointed, confused, sad. As sad as she sounds a lot of the time.

These phantoms have no shadows, so to me they don’t exist even though I can clearly see them. They’re scary.

When it’s more appropriate, I’ll joke that the only thing creeping around the castle is her.

“I can’t control them,” she explains quickly, and I hope she’s not assuming that I’m taking their stares personally (I am). “I can’t even make them move.”

I shrug. “They’re pretty badass.”

Aqua snorts. “You always have a way of making me feel better,” she says and I’ve never realized.

When she lets go of them, they swiftly disappear, but the cold lingers and it almost makes me suspicious that they’re still around, despairing about things she won’t talk about. Like there are thoughts she keeps secret.

“I never meant to make you sad,” I say. We’ve talked a little about what the last twelve years were like for her. I know where those phantoms come from.

“You don’t,” she says with such confidence just to remind me that she doesn’t blame me for anything and I almost want to force her to.

To punish me or get angry with me. To stop kissing me goodnight or confirm to me that the Master must be so disappointed, wherever he is. But she never does. Why not?

“Why not?” I blurt out.

At least she’s smiling again. “All I’ve ever wanted was to have you back. I mean, I’m angry, yeah. I am. But I feel better when you’re around. I need that.”

She scoots closer to me, the smell of her shampoo with blends of vanilla and lavender in my face. The white sheen of her orb makes her eyes bluer.

“Terra, I’m glad you’re here. It’s spotty, sure. I always feel bad when you stay awake just to help me sleep but... we’re Masters together. Just like we wanted.”

It’s my turn to snort. “I don’t mind staying up, obviously.”

When her smile reaches her eyes, that’s when I think she’s prettiest. “I don’t either.”

I do mind it when she leans away from me when I try to kiss her.

“The stars are watching,” she says, like a teacher bringing the entire class’ attention to shame one student.

I don’t have a good enough retort, so I huff. Think about the usefulness of my foreign, unwieldy powers. If this is the way she wants me to kiss her, so be it, I’ll get the tendrils moving again to cover her light.

“We should try some pranks on Ven,” I whisper.

“Between my clones and your honing abilities-”

“It’d be hilarious.”

“See, you haven’t changed.”

“Excuse me?”

“Twelve years later, and pranks still make you smirk like a child.”

“Ven deserves it.”

“... I’ll only deny that a little bit.”

I don’t say out loud that I’m grateful for her - I really should work on expressing myself better, and I only hope she knows.

Aqua has always been good with magic but it’s a special sort when she makes me forget about what worries me despite the fact that I can’t heal from this.

I snigger about the darkness with her for a simple night in the woods and it’s suddenly a miracle that I can wrap her light in a black veil, like it’s no big deal. A hovering, black orb as deep a hole in space with all the energy locked inside, floating in between our hands. It’s hard work, yes, and I tremble from the effort, but now she wants to see how long I can keep it up.

I’ve forgotten how dark it is out in the wild.

But she’s like a star, and they shine best in a night like this.

They’re too far away to really give me anything to see, but she’s close enough that I slowly make out the blue in her eyes.

One simple kiss is never enough and always leads to a second, a third.

I let go of the veil to hold her face, her sheen blinding after several seconds of being caressed by the darkness, bright enough to stop us from seeing the stars.

#terraqua #terqua #terraquaweek #kh fanfic #terra #aqua #kingdom hearts fanfiction #terraqua week #OH. MY. GOD.#i'm so nervous about sharing this one you have no idea #my fic

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mollymauk-teafleak · 5 years

Text

Black Coffee (final part)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

And just like that, it’s over...

I’m genuinely quite sad. I’ve enjoyed writing this so much and I’ve enjoyed hearing what you guys think and I’ve really appreciated all the love and support, particularly from my beta readers @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

If you’ve enjoyed this fic, please let me know! Leave a comment on Ao3, reblog this post or even donate to my ko-fi if you can!

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When the twins were much younger and their world hadn’t yet grown beyond the garden of their mother’s tiny house, they had a ploy whenever they got sick. If one of them were struck down by a cold or a stomach ache or a sore throat- usually the smaller, skinnier, sicklier Vax- the other would insist they were sick too. They would crawl into the bed of the other, scooting up under the blankets to hug their sibling close, and swear blind that they’d caught the germs and had to stay home from school as well.

Their mother would never fall for this, they realised later, she was much too wise to their antics. She just never had the heart to split them up, to come between the love that compelled them to stay home only to hug and comfort and protect their other half. She would just smile and nod and tuck them in tighter, promising to bring her two little elflings water and soup.

Once the door was closed, stories would be whispered under the blankets with shadows up the wall accompanying their words, building fantastical worlds where germs didn’t exist and things didn’t hurt. They’d play games, pretending to be badgers in a den or baby owls in a nest, thinking about the animals they’d see in the forests around their little village. One would read to the other, whatever story book was their favourite. And if things were just too much, they would hold each other and just know that they weren’t alone.

And then that world was taken away from them, picked up in unfamiliar hands that looked a lot like their own and shaken until they were tossed out into somewhere cold and scary. And while around them everything grew, their circle of people they could trust and depend on shrank to just two.

What got them through that time were those times when one of them wouldn’t be able to find the strength to face the day, Vax as he lost sight of who he was and had his own body turn on him or Vex as she felt the walls grow tighter and tighter around her until there was barely room to breathe, and the other would crawl under their blankets and wrap their arms around them. Suddenly, it would all be gone, Syldor, Syngorn, everything.

And they would be small again, staying home from school on a rainy, sniffly day, knowing everything was okay because they had each other.

Just for a moment.

Vex had been at work when Vax had come home in tears but she’d heard it from behind his bedroom door as soon as she walked into the apartment.

Trinket was sat in front of his door, whining and worried, looking at her pleadingly like she could fix this. And Vex realised immediately that she couldn’t.

She’d really wanted it to work out for him. Of course she’d worried, she worried about her brother all the time, but the way he and Percy had looked at each other… she’d hoped.

Anger made her hands shake as she dropped her rucksack on the floor and hurried to the door that was muffling her brother’s sobs. She’d trusted Percy with her brother’s heart. She easily could have pinned him to the wall the multiple, equally awkward times she’d woken up to find him sat drinking coffee on their sofa in one of her brother’s t-shirts and his boxers, she could have got in his face and snarled that if he ever hurt her brother in any way, she’d feather him like a duck.

But she hadn’t, because he’d looked at Vax like he’d hung the moon in the sky and that was exactly what Vax deserved. She’d wanted to believe life was finally going to give him a break.

If she ever saw de Rolo again, she’d break those fusty little glasses under the heel of her boot. And maybe his teeth, depending on how much remorse he showed. There was, after all, every chance that Vax had his own part to play in this all going up in flames.

But for now, her brother needed her. And, come hell or high water, she was always on his team.

The door wasn’t locked, if it had been she would have given him more time. But she took the unbroken click of the handle under her grip as a cry for help and fully intended to answer it.

The curtains were drawn tight, choking off any light in the room at all. It took her a moment of adjustment to make out any movement, to finally see the tremulous shuddering of her brother’s shoulders as he cried into his pillow.

Vex didn’t try and say anything. She just picked her way through the haphazard obstacle course that was her brother’s bedroom floor in the dark, ears picked up high to avoid breaking anything or falling flat on her face. Fortunately, she made it to the bed and, not even hesitating, she crawled under the tangled blankets, bakery uniform, clunky kitchen boots and all.

Vax only seemed to cry harder when he realised what she was doing but he flung himself into her arms, clinging on bitterly. Vex returned the embrace with equal strength, closing her eyes and burying her nose in her brother’s dark hair.

“He…” Vax rasped after a while, “He just…”

“Shh,” Vex murmured, unable to hear her brother struggle for the words and contextualise how he felt, like listening to someone try and walk across broken glass, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it right now. I’m here.”

Vax sounded relieved, dissolving back into soft little hitching breaths, the only things he had at his disposal to explain the storm inside him. Vex racked her brain for stories, songs, anything from when they were kids.

But she got the sense that could wait. The best thing she could be right now was a pair of arms, a stiff polo shirt to cry into and a beating heart against his ear.

The best thing she could be right now was a sister.

Vax’ildan? Percy thought immediately when he heard his phone ring.

Desperate, he snatched it up, heart hammering out a tattoo that was hopeful and terrified in equal measures.

But no, the title that came up was Antler Girl. Trying so hard not to be disappointed that his best friend was calling him, telling himself he needed to hear another person’s voice, Percy accepted the call and held the phone to his ear.

“Perce, what on earth are you doing?”

“Pardon?” Percy asked, his voice very obviously rusty. He hadn’t spoken aloud since Vax had left yesterday afternoon but he’d been doing a lot of crying and it had left him sounding like he’d gargled nails.

“In the nicest way possible, have you lost your mind?”

Percy frowned, eyes burning too much and chest aching too much to puzzle this out, “Keyleth, what…”

“Vax’ildan, Percy. What happened?”

His chest gave a painful twist, “How do you know about that?”

“Vex’ahlia messaged me. Percy, he’s heartbroken, what happened between you two? I thought you were going to tell him?”

“Do you...do you talk to Vex often?”

“Is that really the best you can do to change the topic?”

Percy scowled, “Keyleth, I can’t do this right now, not over the phone.”

“Oh, good. I’m outside your door. Let me in, please?”

Now feeling he was fully justified in being annoyed, Percy staggered out of bed and through the living room that was, after nearly a solid week of neglect, now starting to gather some real dirt and decay, food cartons left to fester on the coffee table and the kitchen counters, dirty clothes thrown over ever piece of furniture.

And a case of the cheapest, nastiest beer he could think of, bought in a moment of weakness but left unopened in the epicentre of his filthy kitchen. He tried to let his eyes slide off that, tried to pretend it wasn’t there.

He unlocked the door, the door that had stayed barred to everyone except the food delivery people. Keyleth was dressed like the kindest, most helpful kind of school librarian, as she always was, with her startlingly red hair piled up on top of her head where it could get snagged in her antlers and face set in a worried frown that Percy suspected she kept on the shelf exclusively for him.

“How can I help you?” he asked in an exasperated exhale.

“Percy, just tell me what happened. We can fix this.”

“Look, we broke up. Is that what you wanted? You wanted to hear me say it? Whatever we were, it’s done now. It’s shit but it happens.”

Keyleth’s frown deepened, moving past Percy into the apartment without an invitation. Not that they were at a point in their friendship where they needed invitations but still, Percy glowered. It was just a day for glowering.

He was glad to have her back to him when she saw the place, so he didn’t have to see the disappointment cross her face, the pity, the panic. But he did get to see her shoulders tense at the sight of the beer, saw her head snap to the recycling bin to scan for empty bottles. She didn’t relax when there was none to be found, it wasn’t like Percy hadn’t gotten good at hiding them from her. He had years of experience in that.

Percy looked down. How many times had they acted out this scene before after he lost his family? How many times had Kiki come to pick him up off the lowest depths of rock bottom?

How many times would she do it before she got sick of him letting her down again and again?

Almost immediately, she moved to the sunken section of his living room and busied herself picking up trash and tossing clothes into just one pile rather than twenty, her magic dissipating a fog of pine scent to chase out the cloying stink of general unwashedness.

“Oh, Keyleth, don’t…” Percy groaned, wondering if it was possible to feel so much guilt that it would actually crush him, “You don’t have to.”

“Then help me,” she shrugged, going into the kitchen to find some trash bags.

Percy stood there awkwardly for a moment, just in a pair of too big sweatpants and nothing else, before sighing and moving to help her.

Neither of them said anything as they slowly but surely got the place into something slightly more habitable, the sofas and counters at least clear of garbage and the curtains open to let some thin light in.

“There,” Kiki eventually declared, dusting her hands off and taking a seat on the leather she’d just magicked to be much less dusty.

Percy came and sank down beside her, having to admit he did feel a little more human now. He’d even found a t-shirt that didn’t reek to cover his top half. “There,” he echoed listlessly.

“Seriously, Perce,” her voice softened and he could feel her eyes on him even though he couldn’t answer her gaze, “What happened? You seemed so excited to tell him…”

“He… he canceled on me,” Percy eventually admitted, getting the strong sense that he wasn’t going to get through this conversation without crying, “He had a date, just like that, clearly it didn’t even cross his mind to think about me. Keyleth, I don’t know what I’d done to blind myself but he’s just… he’s not into me. He’s never going to feel that way about me. And I can’t keep doing the pretending thing knowing that.”

Kiki crossed her legs neatly under herself, tilting her head knowingly, “And I’m guessing you talked about this with him openly and calmly like adults?”

Percy reddened and he sank further down into the expensively plush sofa, “No. I said something stupid. We shouted at each other.”

“I thought so.”

He felt his throat close, “Look, I was always going to fuck this up. It was always going to happen... “

“Percival, do not do this,” her reply was sharper than he’d expected and he jumped a little, “Life is not closing doors on you, you are.”

“Keyleth, it’s pretty fucking loud and clear…”

“Did it ever occur to you in your infinite genius and complete lack of common sense, that maybe Vax went on a date because he has no clue that you are in love with him? And if he was aware, he’d have been going on a date with you? And that you can’t be angry at him for not knowing things that you didn’t tell him?”

“I know that!” Percy’s voice cracked at just the wrong moment as his volume surged and he winced, “Why do you think I’ve been lying in bed hating myself for the past week?”

“Then quit doing that, you know it doesn’t solve anything!” Keyleth threw her hands up, “Go fix your problem! Go talk to Vax!”

“Fine!” Percy yelled, “I’ll do that!”

He suddenly blinked, realising what he’d just agreed to do.

Keyleth smiled sweetly, expectantly, “Want me to help you pick out an outfit?”

“Kiki, I don’t like you.”

“And you love me.”

“Yes, that too.”

It took most of the day but Vex finally coaxed Vax into the shower and was making him a cup of coffee when she heard the knock at the door. Trinket sat up and gave a warning rumble which she always found funny, given that he was the biggest wuss she’d ever had the pleasure of knowing and would never hurt a fly.

Dusting sugar from her fingers, she went and opened the door, a smile lighting up her face when she saw the beautiful, red haired lady who had been occupying a lot of her thoughts and texts since Vax had introduced them. She’d messaged her to tell her about the disaster their mutual brothers had created but she hadn’t expected her to come over. Not until their date next Saturday at least.

“Keyleth! What a lovely surprise-”

That was when she saw Percy awkwardly shuffling his feet next to her. And her face dropped into something resembling a storm cloud.

“Fuck you, de Rolo,” she said flatly.

To his credit, Percy nodded and bit his lip, “Yeah, I deserve that.”

“You sure as hell do,” Vex scanned him up and down, calculating a way to knock him to the floor and take his glasses, “Glad we agree.”

“Vex’ahlia,” Keyleth stepped smartly between them, clearly sensing the thoughts behind her dark eyes, “Do you think the boys could have a conversation? Maybe sort this out?”

Vex shifted, trying not to let how bright the druid’s eyes were and how those freckles dusted her nose so perfectly distract her from her righteous sibling anger, “I don’t know if that’s what Vax wants right now…”

“Could you ask him? Please? I promise, if he says no, we’ll leave.”

Percy has to leave, Vex thought to herself, you can stay as long as you want, my dear.

Was she fraternising with the enemy here? She couldn’t decide. Damn, this was confusing.

Trinket chose that moment to somehow turn to liquid and slide around his mama’s legs, bounding up to Percy and whining happily. To Vex’s surprise, Percy found a smile and hugged her dog earnestly, cooing to him and ruffling his ears in just the right way, suddenly so different from his usual, stiff, formal self.

Vex hesitated, her anger suddenly having nowhere to go, it’s clear, connected path from her fist to Percy’s face swept away in an instant. Keyleth caught her eyes for a second, reading her expression in an instant and smiling softly. A smile that said there was still hope.

And, as angry as she’d been, Vex still wanted to believe the chance for her brother to be happy was still there.

“I’ll ask him,” she murmured eventually, disappearing back into the apartment.

Vax was sitting at the kitchen table, holding his mug of coffee in both hands, looking small and young in an oversized dark t-shirt and shorts, his hair wet and straggly.

“He’s here isn’t he?” he asked quietly, not looking up from his mug.

“Just say the word, Scrawny, and I’ll throw him out,” Vex murmured, moving to stand behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

Vax exhaled softly, “Is it insane that I want to see him? I mean… half of me does.”

“It’s not insane,” Vex bent and kissed the top of his head, “It sounds about right for what you’re going through.”

Vax exhaled for a very long time, still not raising his eyes. He always took his coffee without milk, black as night, bitter enough to scorch the taste buds of anyone normal. She’d always found that funny, in much the same way Trinket trying to growl like a guard dog was. Vax always seemed so harsh and bitter on the outside, an affect he’d cultivated carefully, turning it into armour over the course of his life. But inside, all he’d ever wanted was to be loved, to be liked, to just be able to be himself.

And, fuck, he deserved that.

“I’ll talk to him,” he eventually said, “What have I got to lose, right?”

Vex smiled gently, “Lots. But you’re just that brave.”

“Thanks, Stubby,” that dredged a smile from him.

“I won’t be far,” she promised, “Keyleth and I will be just outside the building and I’ll have my phone on me the whole time.”

Vax tilted his head back then, looking up at her with something like his old spark, “You’re totally into Kiki, aren’t you?”

“Gods, above,” Vex rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help the relieved smile that flickered to life on her face, “Don’t make me regret all this being nice to you.”

“Can’t have us getting along too much, it feels weird,” Vax shrugged, motioning her towards the door, like he needed her to go before he lost his nerve.

Vex took the hint, squeezing his shoulder one last time before she moved away.

The next person to come through the door was Percy.

Vax was put in mind of the first time he’d ever set eyes on Percy. When he’d walked in looking so poised and calm, tired and lost but taking pains to hide it behind a neat haircut and prim accent, with his red carnation and polished glasses. Vax remembered the first thoughts that had entered his head along with the chiming bell of the cafe door. How he’d thought him a little stiff, a little strange, someone he could grow a fondness for in time.

Now, nearly a full year later, he was openly showing his hurts. He wore them on his face, in the dark circles under his eyes, in the way his hands anxiously, unconsciously wrung each other. There was no more hiding, not after everything they'd been through. Vax took some comfort from that.

And he wondered what Percy was thinking about him.

There was a very long pause, neither of them sure what to say, just looking at each other helplessly like they each wanted the other to save them.

In the same instant, Vax awkwardly began with “Hey…” and Percy blurted out, “I’m so sorry.”

Then suddenly they were smiling, hesitant and shy, but smiling.

“Try again?” Vax hummed.

Percy nodded gratefully, repeating it again with as much sincerity as he could muster, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Vax’ildan.”

Vax swallowed, nudging the chair across from him back with one foot, an invitation to sit. Percy did, sinking down into it.

“You really hurt me, Percy,” Vax rasped, pressing against the wound inside him by thinking about it, “The things you said…they’re not true, I was never using you… ”

Percy’s face crumpled, “I know. I know that, Vax, I swear. I was just… I was angry at myself. I was jealous. I was bitter. None of that is an excuse, I know, it’s all my problem. But I will never forgive myself for lashing out at you, that was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

Vax bit his lip, “You were jealous?”

Percy looked down at his hands, “It’s so stupid… I acted like a child. But yes, I… I was jealous. And instead of talking to you about it, I just made things worse. But I’m not just coming here with an apology, I’m coming to you with a promise never to do it again.”

“You were...jealous? That I went on a date?”

Percy seemed caught off guard, “Uh...yeah?”

“Shit,” Vax croaked, “Shaun was right.”

“I’m sorry?”

Vax summoned up all of his courage, everything that had made him brave enough to still want to be happy, and leaned forward, “Percy, do you love me?”

Percy’s eyes brimmed until they shone and in that moment, they looked so fucking beautiful, “Yes. I have for a while and...honestly, it scared me. I didn’t know what to do with it at first. I didn’t see myself as someone who deserved to feel like that, I guess, I just felt like such an idiot…”

“I think I know what you mean,” Vax whispered, starting to smile, “But I love you too. And I trust you. And I want to try this. So what does that make me?”

The tears that had been lingering there finally spilled over and Percy’s eyes became miniature seas, churning and rolling with their own waves, “It makes you the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’m never going to stop being amazed that I’m allowed to have you in my life.”

They came together like the movement of the Earth itself, inevitable and with a sense of everything returning to how it was meant to be. They had spent months kissing, holding each other, exploring every part of their bodies together but now, as they did nothing more than slide their arms around each other, it felt so precious and new and exhilarating. It felt like a first time.

All Vax had been looking for was someone who would be nice to him. All Percy had been looking for was a friend.

What they’d found was a future together.

Two years later…

The Blooming Grove was always busy on rainy days. Something about the sweet, honey coloured warmth it’s windows spilled out into the street just beckoned people in, making it seem like the most perfect shelter from any kind of bad weather.

But almost as if fate- or, more likely, Caduceus Clay- had intended it, their table was free. The black, wrought iron table with the delicate glass mosaic pressed into the top, sat right in the window so they could look out and see the sheets of rain coming down and making the grey world even greyer and feel even warmer from the fact that they weren’t out in it.

Percy took a deep breath and straightened the two mugs, one in front of him, one in front of the empty chair across from him, both of them full of coffee that was so thick and black, it looked like ink. Vax’s favourite. Feeling the same, utterly identical stab of panic he’d felt a hundred times since he’d left the house, his hand shot into his pocket.

Yes, it was still there, just as it had been since he placed it there. The circlet of niello engraved silver, a small but perfect diamond held within a set of tiny, intricately engraved wings. He’d made it himself.

It wasn’t a throwing knife. But he hoped it would do the job.

Percy’s eyes snapped to the clock. Vax was late getting back from rehearsal but then, he’d expected that. This was the company’s first production since he’d earned the role of principal dancer and he was giving it everything, working all hours, humming the songs under his breath even in the shower.

And he really had earned it. Percy might have set up the production company but Vax had refused to just be handed the top spot. Finally given the space to do so, he’d simply worked hard and shone. Just as Percy knew he would.

So he’d accounted for lateness. He’d accounted for everything in fact. He wanted this to be perfect.

It had to be perfect…

The sound of the wind and rain suddenly grew stronger as the door opened, just for a moment before it was firmly shut. Percy looked up to see his half elf walking in, shaking rain from his dark hair, brushing it from his jacket.

Vax looked different these days but in very small ways. He stood taller, he smiled wider. He had little creases at the corners of his eyes from smiling so much.

Percy hoped the same changes, the little signs of a life well lived, could be seen on his own face. But he doubted they looked as beautiful as they did on Vax’ildan.

He kept the ring in his grip as he smiled and waved and watched the man he loved light up upon seeing him there.

And Percy realised it didn’t have to be perfect. They had never needed perfect.

They’d only needed each other.

#percildan #perc'ildan #Percy de rolo #vax'ildan #critical role #sugar daddy au #critical role fic #vexleth #cr: percy #cr: vax #cr: trinket #trinket the dog

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hawksquill · 5 years

Text

“You know, I can’t decide which is worse: Muggles or Mudbloods,” Draco Malfoy said to Luna, leaning towards her with a conspiratorial smirk. She nearly instinctively looked behind her to see if he was talking to somebody else, as he had barely shown any interest in her at Flourish and Blotts over the summer.

“And what exactly is wrong with Muggleborns? Or Muggles, for that matter?”

“Well, you know.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t even know why you’re talking to me, to be honest.”

“My mum told me about your mum…”

“Draco, hush,” Mrs. Malfoy suddenly dug her long nails, which Luna was surprised to see were unpainted, into her son’s shoulder.

“But Mum…”

“Where is that mother of yours, Luna?” Narcissa asked, peering behind Luna as if searching for Cressida.

“Er, she said she didn’t want to support the Minister, who does nothing but lie, or the Prophet, which does nothing but print Fudge’s lies.”

“Well, well. No surprises there,” Narcissa said with a mirthless chuckle.

“Wait, how do you know my mum?” Luna asked, turning to face the woman for the first time.

“Oi, little blonde one, don’t turn. And hold your arm up so we can see that missing finger!” One of the photographers cried. Luna obeyed, sighing.

“Maybe Mum had the right idea...”

“What’s happened to your hand?” asked Draco, his fingers tightening around her wrist as he pulled it closer to investigate, poking the purple lump of scar tissue.

“Ouch, that hurts!” Luna yanked her hand away.

“And what have you done to your hair, girl?” asked Narcissa.

“What? I haven’t done anything to my hair.”

“No, you have, there’s a white streak now,” Draco reached towards the back of Luna’s head and puled a lock of her hair to the front of her face so she could see it. It was indeed white-blonde, surrounded by several strands of her usual dark hair.

“I wonder…” Narcissa said, nudging her husband. He ignored her. Draco tugged harder on Luna’s hair, apparently trying to rip one of the blonde strands out so he could examine it more closely.

“No offense, but you need to teach your son some manners,” Luna said, loudly enough for Mr. Malfoy and a few of the surrounding Ministry cronies to hear.

“I beg your pardon?” Narcissa hissed.

“You should have taught him not to touch people without their permission. Let’s see how he likes it,” Luna said, flopping the stump of her left hand onto Draco’s robes and tugging at her stitches in the vain hope that they would burst and start leaking pus all over his horrible, smug little face.

“Ugh, disgusting! Mum, make her stop! I told you she’s a freak!”

“Oh, do be quiet, Draco. Stand over here, by your father,” Mrs. Malfoy tugged him a foot or so further away from Luna.

“No more talking, please, the ceremony is about to start!” their handler announced to the crowd. Luna could still feel Mrs. Malfoy’s gaze on her as everyone shuffled into position and began applauding as instructed.

Professor Dumbledore approached a podium that had been hastily erected in the Hospital Wing, festooned with the Hogwarts crest and the symbol of the Ministry of Magic, a golden M bisected by a wand.

“Good morning, all. Good morning, indeed. I regret the somber circumstances that bring us all together today, but celebrate the generosity and civic-mindedness that we work so hard to cultivate here at Hogwarts. It is incumbent on me to recognize Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and the entire Malfoy family for their unending support for our school, and in particular for their benevolence in donating funds that have allowed the Hogwarts Herbology Department to import mature mandrake plants that Professor Pomona Sprout has expertly brewed into a Restorative Draught that will soon heal all those who have been petrified,” Dumbledore paused and gave a small nod to Professor Sprout, who blushed at the applause she received.

“I would also like to take this moment to recognize the kindness and ingenuity of all at Hogwarts that have allowed us to weather this, and so many other, storms. Doing the right thing is never easy, and requires great personal sacrifice. But we do what is right not because it is easy, or in hope of praise. We do so because we feel we have no other choice but to do all we can,” Dumbledore seemed to be looking in Luna’s direction, and she shifted under his gaze. But perhaps he wasn’t looking at her at all.

“Sacrifice, yeah right. Father’s gift cost less than my Nimbus 2001. Pocket change, really,” Malfoy snorted. Narcissa hushed him, but Lucius also seemed to bristle at Dumbledore’s words.

“What’s that daft old fool on about? Thanking everyone, and not us? Saying we shouldn’t be doing this for the praise? He’ll be getting an owl tomorrow, he can be sure of that,” he hissed.

“Lucius, what did you expect? You know he’s a senile old codger. And we can be sure that the Minister will say exactly what we wish of him…”

Fudge was standing at the podium now, clutching his lime green bowler hat in one hand and a scrap of parchment with his speech, no doubt penned by the Malfoys, in the other.

“Yes, well, thank you, Dumbledore. I would also like to emphasize the absolutely critical role Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have played in securing the funds in such a timely manner. Less than a day since…well, the unfortunate events in the Chamber of Secrets revealed the…er, alleged cause of the petrifications, and here we are! Believe me when I say that no one could have acted more swiftly and generously.” He paused for a moment to shake Mr. Malfoy’s hand, both men expertly contorting their bodies to face the flashing bulbs of the cameras.

“And now, Madam Pomfrey will begin administering the draught to the victims! We shall go in the order they were petrified, I think?” he consulted one of his aides off-stage, who nodded in vigorous exasperation.

“Don’t expect Mrs. Norris to be too photogenic, now, Bozo!” the Minister quipped, to overly solicitous laughter from the crowd.

The Minister was right, and the grumpy-looking tabby cat who turned out to be Mrs. Norris did not make for a particularly good photo opportunity, but a morose old man in dusty robes nearly burst into tears when she came hissing back into consciousness. Next was a ghost with a barely hinged-on neck, who was at first bewildered but seemed happy to bask in the spotlight once he understood what had happened to him. He kept saying that making the front page of the Daily Prophet would help him earn a spot on the Headless Hunt, whatever that was.

Next were two Muggleborn boys, one timid and one pompous, who both nevertheless shook Mr. Malfoy’s hands and posed for photographs happily enough. Everything was going to plan. Mr. Malfoy seemed mollified and Draco seemed to have grown bored of tormenting Luna.

Finally, it was Ron’s turn. He woke up coughing and spluttering, apparently still believing he was in the Chamber of Secrets.

“Ginny!” he shouted, whirling around wildly. Fudge and the other Ministry officials swapped glances. They apparently hadn’t anticipated this.

“Someone get the girl, his sister,” someone said, and Ginny was nudged forward.

“Shh, shh, I’m here,” she said, crouching beside Ron’s bedside.

“Gin, what’s going on? Are you okay? Who are all these people?”

“Hello, there, lad. How are you feeling?” asked Lucius Malfoy, making a show of leaning down to tousle Ron’s hair.

“What are you doing here?” Ron said, recoiling from Lucius’s touch and looking around, disoriented by the crowd of photographers and Ministry officials crowding his bed.

“Now, now, the boy is simply confused!” Fudge chuckled, his eyes darting quickly between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy, “You should be grateful to Mr. Malfoy, young man. He’s the one who’s responsible for saving you!”

“Saving me? What, did he rescue us from the Chamber of Secrets? Did he defeat that snake thing? What happened to Harry and Hermione and Luna? Where are my mum and dad?”

“We’re here, son,” Mr. Weasley stepped forward, but was herded back in line by one of Fudge’s lackies.

“Pose with Mr. Malfoy, Ron!” one of the photographers cried from the clamoring crowd.

“Why should I? The last thing I remember is being in the bloody Chamber of Secrets, and I don’t remember Malfoy being there. Get that bloody thing out of my face,” he said, pushing aside a camera so forcefully that the photographer had to use a well-timed featherweight charm to prevent it from shattering on the floor.

There was a moment of silence.

“Well, son, you were petrified,” Fudge explained slowly, as though Ron were stupid, “And the Malfoys here paid for the potion that revived you and all these other people…and cat. And ghost…”

“Just pose for a photo with Mr. Malfoy, there’s a dear,” said Mrs. Weasley, finally managing to bustle through the crowd and pressing the back of her hand to her youngest son’s flushed cheek.

“Well, alright, if it’ll get them to leave me alone,’ Ron grumbled. Mr. Malfoy looked about as pleased as Ron as they gripped hands and grimaced in the general direction of the cameras.

“I told my father not to buy enough mandrakes for Weasley, and I was right. That worm doesn’t deserve our generosity. The whole family could be petrified, as far as I’m concerned, and stay that way. Blood traitors, the lot of them,” Draco leaned towards Luna again. He kept looking at her expectantly, as though his vile words would awaken something in her or make her see the error of her blood traitor ways.

Luna wanted to say something, anything, to prove his notion wrong, but now that the official photographs were over, the reporters were starting to descend on Ginny, who looked on the verge of tears, like an innocent traveler beset by a pack of ravenous gytrashes.

Ignoring Draco, Luna weaved through the crowd and tugged on Ginny’s arm.

“No, sorry, no interviews,” she said, shielding Ginny from the swarm of reporters.

“But why?! The wizarding world is clamoring to know what you went through!” Rita Skeeter screeched.

“We’ll be giving an exclusive interview to The Quibbler, so anyone who wants to read about what happened to us in the Chamber of Secrets will have to buy the next issue!” Ginny said.

Rita Skeeter had heard just about everything in the world, and had made up a good deal of it herself. But she clearly hadn’t been expecting that answer.

“The…the what-bbler? You can’t mean that mad old rag?”

“I’d get an owl subscription if I were you!” Ginny imitated Rita’s singsong chirping as the two girls made their escape from the Hospital Wing to find Cressida was waiting for them, wearing a cartoonishly large green bowler hat running red to symbolize the blood of the innocents Fudge had oppressed. They waited in the corridor for the rest of the Weasleys to disentangle themselves from the crowds before walking back to Hogsmeade and apparating to the Burrow.

“That was quick thinking. Now they’ll be buying The Quibbler for months in the hopes of getting the first scoop on the so-called interview,” Luna said, giving Ginny an appreciative nudge. Her father could use the morale boost and The Quibbler could certainly use the circulation boost. They could all use the extra money.

“I learned from the best,” Ginny grinned.

Chapter 13 just posted! Read more on AO3 here!

#luna lovegood #harry potter fan fiction #harry potter fan fic #hp fan fiction #luna/ginny #linny #fan fiction #my fan fic #draco malfoy

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