#once more anatomy said FUDGE IT

[pikinanouart]

LOTTIE!

#spy x family #yor forger #yuri briar #that one meme #Yuri would gladly take dying before having to be nice to Lottie #once more anatomy said FUDGE IT #im just too lazy to get a reference

[levihantrash]

Priorities

For Levihan week Aug 2021 Day 2 prompt: confessions

Also based on a cute ass tumblr prompt by @sanothebreadpup <3 hope you like it!!

Summary: It’s been a while since Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long. Erwin suggested going to Levi for advice on managing prioritises. Instead, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

note: no smut but lots of spicy poetic touching

cross-posted on ao3 🤪

-----

Hange wanted to confess. It had been months since they knew that their best friend status with Levi could potentially be tweaked to include just a bit more romance, and they knew they had to be the one to take that step. As much as Levi was quick-witted on the battlefield, he wasn’t quite the risk-taker in ordinary settings. In fact, Hange figured Levi would sip tea beside them until he was greying and would probably be as content with the arrangement.

Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long.

Out-of-the-blue, though characteristically charismatic, Erwin gave the soldiers a pep-talk on how they need to know what to prioritise (i.e., humanity's victory).

Inspired, though the speech’s intended audience was clearly for new recruits, Hange tried to prioritise their tasks. Within a day, they got overwhelmed, the list being more of a reason for delay than for action. Moblit, well-meaning as always, tried to get Hange to focus on one at a time but that was unthinkable to them. One at a time meant that the confession would never happen. There was too much to research. Too much at stake. Too much for one inconsequential confession.

Unknowingly, Erwin saw Hange wringing their hands, muttering to themselves in the dining hall.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t prioritise the important stuff,” Hange grumbled. Perking up at the mention of priorities, Erwin advised Hange to seek Levi’s guidance.

“Levi only does one thing at a time once he sets his heart on it.”

Eager for a chance encounter with someone they technically already hung out with on most days, Hange asked Levi for help. More accurately, in perhaps the most roundabout manner, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

“For research,” Hange said, almost convinced by their own performance.

“You can do that yourself,” Levi said reasonably.

While starting a task was horrendously difficult, Hange was not one to give up once they began on one.

“You’re the only one here who can bake.”

Eyes narrowed, arms folded, Levi was not buying the compliment. He had a pile of papers left to read. Hange’s whims could be settled by someone with more well-matched interests and time management.

“Go ask Petra.”

Hovering nearby with another paper for her captain to sign, Petra noticed Hauge's crestfallen face.

“It’s not about the baking being done but who Hange is doing the baking with,” Petra whispered, as discreetly as she could.

"I'm busy," Levi said, loud enough for Hange to hear, heedless of Petra’s input.

“Alright.” Hange sighed, internally fuming that they should’ve found a more legitimate excuse. Bluff out something like Erwin’s orders. Levi followed Erwin’s orders without question. Hange’s requests were dealt with more scepticism. Not that Hange had the best track record of requests.

In the end, Hange prepared the baking supplies, because even if titans couldn’t stomach cake, it was an experimental endeavour. Practically speaking, they could give some baked goods to the juniors. Maybe even gift some to Levi.

Stumbling into the kitchen with too many ingredients in hand, they found Levi leaning against the entrance looking positively sullen. Upon spotting Hange, his face morphed into a more acceptable, neutral expression, nodding towards them.

"I thought you were busy!"

Levi shrugged, grabbing some of the ingredients from their arms. "I was. Didn't you want to bake?"

“I guess?”

The sudden change of mind was too abrupt for Hange to wrap their head around. A hopeful glow had unfortunately begun growing in them. Levi was being exceptionally nice today. No doubt that he was usually nice. Just not will-bake-for-your-titans kind of nice.

"Erwin said that you are really good at prioritising tasks,” Hange said, slowly digging through the cabinets for the utensils.

"Huh. Let me guess—he wants you to learn from me."

Hange scratched their head absent-mindedly. "He did tell me to ask you."

"I'm not actually very good at sticking to a task,” Levi admitted, wondering where in hell Erwin got the idea that he was focused. If he were, the paperwork would have been submitted, instead of lying around, flapping aimlessly in the wind before Petra (and Oluo) offered their generous help. He refused—every time. Levi was simply good at keeping a blank face and reporting to Erwin that he needed more time, which Erwin must have mistaken as a sign of seriousness than a sign of procrastination.

“You are! You finished work before coming have, didn't you?”

Levi didn’t breathe out a word, silently pouring through the book of recipes.

"What do you want to bake?"

Hange didn’t mind his lack of response, pondering over his poor cover-up question. "Something easy. What about bread?"

"Bread isn’t easy."

Difficulties translated into the promise of adventure for Hange. Pumped up, Hange prodded at the picture of an unremarkable loaf of chocolate banana bread.

"Let's do it anyway!"

“Suit yourself.”

-----

The small touches were the ones that were hardest to ignore. Hange felt the accidental-deliberate brush of Levi’s elbow when he reached over to choose an ingredient. Other times, he guided their hand with the right amount of strength for stirring the batter. His fingers over their stirring hand were firm and reassuring.

“You’re stirring too fast,” Levi said patiently.

“You’re distracting me,” Hange replied half-heartedly.

“Oh, am I?” The fingers left Hange’s hand. Just as Hange was about to lament their moment of folly in allowing that to happen, the fingers reached out towards their face. Forcing in a breath, Hange felt Levi’s thumb rub out a chocolate stain at the side of their lip.

“How did the chocolate get there?” Levi murmured, more to himself than to them.

“I was snacking on some of the chocolate bits a while ago…” Hange said cheekily, licking the side of their lips only to realise that Levi’s thumb was still there. Their tongue brushed his finger, and in that contact, Hange was ready to collapse from self-generated sexual tension.

Though his eyes widened noticeably, Levi quickly resumed his blasé expression. Rubbing the rest of the stain out, he walked to the tap to wash his hands. There was some hesitation, before he hurriedly turned on the tap, letting the water run for two seconds over his hands before going back to his position next to Hange.

Unsure as to whether to be offended or pleased by the sight of Levi cleaning the evidence of their encounter with such carelessness, Hange busied themselves with breaking eggs and separating yolk. If it had been Levi with a finger lined with fudge, Hange would’ve licked it spotless. With permission, of course.

To pay him back in kind, Hange plotted their own routine of touch as well. The touches became bolder, starting innocently enough. From casually brushing away hair that was poking Levi’s eye, to going behind Levi who was busy slicing up bananas and placing both hands on the counter. Their arms were now on either side of him, conveniently taller than him so that their head could peer right over his shoulder. The cutting didn’t cease—it only got more rapid, the bananas becoming neat circles in a matter of seconds. Hange let out an impressed whistle, hands not leaving the counter.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Oh, am I?”

One drop of the knife, and a swift turn later, Levi found himself staring straight into Hange’s bright, beautiful, heavily eye-bagged orbs.

"Hange, do you know why I'm in the kitchen at 2am baking for some shit-brained monsters?"

“Titans don’t have—”

“Because I have priorities.” Levi interrupted, not allowing Hange to clarify what the physical anatomy of titan subjects entailed.

Hange blinked, maintaining an oblivious exterior. “Your priorities include titan research?”

“You know what I was going to say.”

“Somewhat. I want to hear you say it out loud, though.”

Grimacing, he concentrated his gaze on Hange’s collar instead. Skin flushed, collarbones peeking out mischievously. Bad idea.

“You little shit.”

Their laugh was quieter, milder than the ones they let out on other days. “My favourite little shit! So what are your priorities?”

“Wiping the blades. Cleaning the toilet. Dusting under the tables. Doing laundry. Having enough tea. Baking with a scientist who thinks—”

Hange pressed a gentle hand on his mouth. “I get it.”

“Which part do you get?” Levi asked, enjoying the fact that when he moved his lips, they grazed Hange’s palm. How would it be like to replace that hand with their mouth?

“That you like me.” Hange grinned, tugging Levi by the straps of his apron just a bit closer.

An unexpected flash of clumsiness made Levi knock down the bag of flour, spilling it onto the floor. The fall clouded up the vicinity in white dust. Gaining confidence with obscured vision, Hange held the back of Levi’s head, tracing his undercut, admiring how his immaculately combed hair had come undone. An attractively dishevelled mess. Hange was in no hurry. Yet.

Levi, in a spur of restlessness, looked up at Hange questioningly. Eyeing their faint smirk, he tilted his head sideways, watching carefully for any sign of reluctance. An impatient “are you going to kiss me or not” from Hange; a straightforward command was what he needed to hear. No time was wasted pulling Hange into an urgent, searing kiss. Backed against the counter, hands cupping Hange’s face, Levi devoured the sensation. The taste of sugar, fruit, flour, and chocolate clung onto the entwinement, as Hange breathily pressed up against him. Erwin had warned them both. Love in the military meant the threat of loss. The possibility of sorrow. As he felt the rumble of Hange’s satisfying groan beneath his lips sending an unprecedented warmth through his body, he was certain. He would have loved Hange whether he kissed them or not. Death would happen, whether or not Hange rubbed his waist in soothing, awe-inspiring strokes. Right now, he would die in absolute bliss.

To be honest, Hange would’ve been disappointed if they didn’t end up fucking, or at least, aggressively kissing eventually. Erwin’s advice was only a stronger reminder that Hange was never one to be conservative. They loved Levi, as a comrade, as a friend, as the person whom they would kill for, if it meant saving his life. Still, having Levi sneak a hand into the bareness of their back, sucking their neck with a hot tenderness that made their head spin, they knew that chastity and platonic hugging could not be the only option.

“We should’ve done this sooner,” Hange said, peeling away his jacket.

“Couldn’t tell when the right time was,” Levi said, starting on the buttons of Hange’s shirt.

The door creaked open.

“This is your idea of asking Levi for help?” Erwin said, a thick eyebrow raised as he surveyed the mess.

With some willpower, he stopped unbuttoning Hange’s shirt. Lightly pushing Hange away, Levi straightened up, less than pleased with the interruption.

“Erwin, you better have something worthwhile to say if you—”

“I’ll clean this up.” Erwin, fully recovered from his shock, was beaming.

“Huh?”

“It’s about time,” Erwin said, with the proud sincerity of an unwitting matchmaker, gesturing towards the door.

“We owe you one, Erwin!” Hange waved at him on the way out, while Levi cast him a grateful, wary glance. With his hand was secure on their back, and Hange’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, there was no care for an audience. Only the smell of baked goods and unfinished business fuelled their steps towards a private space. A place where they would end up in each other’s arms—spent, sweaty, and deliriously at peace.

#levihanweek2021 #lhw2021 #levihan #levi x hange #day 2 #levi ackerman #hange zoe #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #fanfiction #aot #my writing #hanji zoe #prompt

[kasienda]

FF.net Version

I’m so excited to finally post this!! This was written for @starlingsinclair for the Usamamo Spring Fic Exchange hosted by @uglygreenjacket (thank you for all your work, girl!!). She apparently is a sucker for the fake dating trope and particularly enjoys the Makai Tree Arc, so I bring you this fic where Natsumi is stalking Mamoru and in a moment of panic he kisses Usagi to make a point to his stalker. He didn't know Usagi was already in love with him, nor that she's Sailor Moon, nor that she would totally agree to do anything to protect him, including (but not limited to) pretending to date him for an indefinite amount of time. @tinacentury makes everything possible. She is the best beta and is so patient with my freak outs about deadlines and gets me writing again when I get stuck and gives such great insight on where I can flesh things out! ...

Preview:  Mamoru had always had more than his fair share of attention from the ladies (and a few gentlemen if he was being honest). He never really knew what to do with any of it. He had dabbled once with a girl he had met through a shared lab section, but although he liked and respected her, he had never really felt a connection. They had parted on friendly terms.

None of that past experience had prepared him for Ginga Natsumi. Natsumi was a blood hound and she made him feel like he was prey in an open field with nowhere to hide. She showed up everywhere. 

He had encountered her first at the student union at Tokyo University in between classes. She had plopped down next to him with a bright smile, and introduced herself as a freshman. 

“I’m new here,” she told him. “But you look like you know your way around. Would you mind helping a girl out?” 

He had smiled. Motoki had told him he needed to work on being friendlier so he was trying that out. He hadn’t thought sharing his name would be a problem. They had chatted for a few moments, before he had led her to the student information desk, so that she could get a more formal guide. 

Really, speaking to her at all was the worst mistake he had ever made. 

He hadn’t thought anything of it at first. The brunette had just started popping up into his path. She was outside his lecture hall when his anatomy class got out. She was at the train station. 

“Oh my god! You live in Azabu?! So do I! It’s such a small world Mamaru-kun!” 

He ran into her at the grocery.

“Mamoru-kun!” she crooned excitedly from behind him in line. “Fancy seeing you here. And we picked out the same ice cream flavor! Double chocolate fudge!” she exclaimed as if that alone was a sign of their everlasting compatibility. 

He had given her a polite smile, paid for his food, and while she was trapped in her own transaction, made a point of not going home. 

The next day, he had been in the library. He swung around between two shelves having retrieved four of the six reference books he needed for his paper, before he turned into her unfortunately familiar face.

“We’ve really got to stop meeting like this Mamoru-kun,” she had said coyly, her long lashes fluttering over her piercing eyes. “I’m going to think you’re stalking me.” 

And then everything got worse. 

...  Click the link to read more! 

#Usamamo #Usamamo Spring Fic Exchange 2020 #Sailor Moon Fan fiction #fake dating #mutual pining #fluff #angst #stalking #its no joke guys #Anything to Protect You #for Starling Sinclair

[hailpiratekingrouge]

The Single Parents Club

h4harts replied to your post “Do you ever think Rouge, Bellemere, Rocci and Sora (I know Sora is...”

Sorry to feed the bunny when you said you’re s’posed to be studying, but does everyone meet because they go to the same school? And was it a happy coincidence or a “please come pick up your kid(s) they’re suspended for the next week” kind of thing?

You are welcome to set ask and add fuel to this insanity! So it took a bit of contemplating but here is how I think it went down.

Takes place during my Moder AU (Grey’s Anatomy version! More details will follow later but it’s canon to my General Modern verse HC)

Arizona Robins is a Paediatrics and foetal surgeon from Grey’s Anatomy

To be a Trauma Surgeon you need to specialize in General surgery then sub-specialize as a trauma surgeon (at least where I live) hence why Rouge is here and not a General surgeon

Bellemere and Roccinate worked in the armed forces and had been friends since they were cadets. As they moved up the ranks they had been assigned to different squadrons to man and missions to encounter.

Yet it was sheer fate that they both had found children whom had wedged their way into their hearts while on the field to bring home. 

While Bellemere was battle worn when she was carried to the nearest hospital with her squadron, Roccinate wasn’t that lucky. Almost shredded with bullets they had to bring him in to the closest medical facility and Sengoku had to order for an external surgeon to be brought in.

Chief of Surgery of Seattle Grace, Doctrine Kurieha, along with her Head of Trauma surgery - Portgas D Rouge-, and two Chiefs of Paediatrics -Dr Hiluluk- and Chief of Paediatrics Surgery -Arizona robins- was brought in to the hospital t treat the wounded members (and their rescued children)

It had taken Rocci several weeks in the ICU and Law in the infectious disease ward before they were stable enough for visitors.

Bellemere would visit Rocci every day and tell her how much of a brat the kid he took in is.

Then you see these two suddenly realising “...Oh my god... I’m a mom” “...Oh God. I have a kid. I’m a dad. I don’t know anything about being a parent” “Fudge! What are we going to do?!” “What if we mess up?”

There’s a back and forth banter between them until Rouge comes in to check up on Rocci and sees them freaking out. Once they explained the situation to her, Rouge couldn’t help but chuckle and smiled politely at them “Indeed, children can be quite demanding actually but they just need sometime to adjust is all. You need to learn what works and what doesn’t” “Do you have kids Doc?” “I have two” “You’re hired!”

That is how the Single Parents Club group chat had started for Rouge to give Bellemere and Rocci some advice (though she learned a lot from them as well)

(Seeing that Rouge had adopted Robin and meeting two patients adopt children as well, had Hiluluk start thinking on adopting as well)

Sora deserves her own proper post. You’ll see little Sanji and little Chopper in it! 

I didn’t realise itt had turned into a BelleCora post

#The Single Parents Club #Bellemere #Donquixote Roccinate #Corazon #Portgas D Rouge #Dr Hiluluk #One Piece #One Piece HC #One PIece headcanon #angel writes #BelleCora

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #180

“why don’t presidents fight the war, why do they always send the poor?”

Do you study anything? If so what? Not currently.. Listening to music? What’s the opening and last lyric of the song? "From her throne of skulls rules our queen of endless might / and lead us the the kingdom of chaos where the dark hearts forever dwell" ("Dark Mother Divine" by Dissection). Are you a fan of sci-fi? Neutral. What’s your favorite musical? Musicals make me cringe. Have you ever taken an underwater picture? No. What was your favorite color when you was little? Has it changed? Red, and then pink when I learned it was its own color. It's still pink. Are you a fan of cheesecake? Omfg no Ever been on a ride and hated every second? I don't believe so. When was the last time you jumped? And why? biiiiih I have no idea. What color is the floor in your bedroom? Tan. Who’s the last person that slept over at your house? Sara. What color is the hair on your arms? Very light brown. Favorite color eyeshadow? Black is the only way to go. Do you have any friends that you’ve known for 10 years or more? Yeah. Who was the last person that cried in front of you? Did you do/say anything to comfort them? My niece or nephew, because we were leaving, and yes. Who was the last person you cried in front of? Did you feel embarrassed about it? Mom, probs. No. What was the last compliment you received from someone of the opposite sex? My psychiatrist said I was doing well with improvement or something. Does the person you love/like have any pets? Yes. Are you satisfied with the way your life is right now? No, things need to begin changing. Do you wear socks to bed? Who the fuck does that. Do you actually love your parents? Yeah. Do you like being in a relationship? Yeah. Do you prefer the tanning bed or the sun? I don't tan. Are you taller than your mum? I think she's like, a half inch taller than me? What’s something you want to purchase next time you’re at the mall? If it has a Hot Topic, some band or graphic t-shirt. Do you prefer regular or diet soft drinks? Regular, as the artificial sweetener in diet inevitably gives me a headache. Tastes awful, anyway. How long do you need to get to know someone, before you’d think about having a relationship with them? I think this depends on how quickly and deeply you click. Would you ever consider going to meet up with someone you started talking to online? Already have, would meet more. Have you ever wanted to be on American Idol? When was this? No. Do you have any friends you’d trust completely with your life? Sara. Are you failing any classes you’re taking in school? N/A Name one song lyric from your favorite song of all time? "In school, I would just bite my tongue, and now your words, they strike me down. The flags are false and they contradict, they point and click which wounds to lick." Do you know anyone who owns a pet chinchilla? Are they fun? No. Do your parents trust you alone with members of the opposite sex? Yeah. What is the most visited website you have listed right now? I'm sure it's YouTube. Do you enjoy singing? Why or why don't you like it? Sometimes, but I suck at it. Have you ever been in a talent show? What was your talent? No. Do you have a best friend who is of the opposite sex? No. What’s one song you’re definitely getting sick of at the moment? I don't listen to such songs once they get old. Do you know the full anatomy of the human body? Why or why not? No, because I've never specialized in studying it in its entirety. Have you ever cheated on a significant other before? No. Does your boyfriend or girlfriend have a pretty smile? ACTUAL SUNSHINE What is your favorite past-time or hobby? Why is this your favorite? Gaming, 'cuz it's the best escape from reality imo. Are you committing a sin at the moment? Which one? Sloth. Always. What do you consider being the worst curse word? I don't believe in "curse" words. Do you like kissing lightly better than just making out? I mean I'm pretty sure anyone would reply with "it depends on the mood." On average, how many songs do you listen to in a day? No clue. Sometimes many, sometimes none. Do you ever buy your pet(s) birthday or Christmas presents? Yes. Do you still own any VHS tapes? Do you ever watch them? Mom probably has old home videos. Otherwise, no. One thing you promised yourself you’d never do and then did? Not trying at all to be dramatic, but I seriously did promise myself I'd never risk loving someone again after Jason. Have you ever had to call 911? No. Have you ever rolled off your bed in your sleep? No. Do you get along with your significant other’s friends? I only know Tiffany, and she's great. Do you enjoy board games? No. What is the most expensive gift you have ever given someone? A promise ring. Describe your socks. I'm not wearing socks. I hate them. Do you believe in yourself? Sometimes. Do you feel bad when you kill bugs? Usually no... sadly. I should. If it was like a butterfly and insects of that sort, I'd feel awful. What is your favorite planet? Saturrrrrn. Do you have any pets that you had since you were born? No. Do you own anything that you had when you were a baby? Yes. Are you one of those people who are always cold? No, I'm like, permanently hot... Do you enjoy Mario games? Not especially. Things like Mario Kart though are fun to play with friends. Describe your signature: Legible but written waaay too slowly. What are some of your favorite card/board games? Battleship, Scattergories, Clue, Magic: The Gathering, uhhh... Do you own a gaming console? Which one? PS2, Wii, broken PS3 that I wanna get repaired, GameBoy, Nintendo DS Lite. What is the name of the last bar you went to? Never been to one. Do you follow any sports teams? No. How old were you when you attended your first concert and what was it? Ummm 17-ish? Alice Cooper. Which one of these words describe you the best: stubborn, impatient, hot-tempered, lazy, arrogant? Lazy. How about these: compassionate, forgiving, altruistic, honest, open-minded? Compassionate. If you had to choose one activity to do for 10 minutes, would you rather jump rope, hula hoop or hopscotch? My knees are baaaad, so all I really could survive is hula-hoop. What's the last TV show you watched, and do you relate to any of the characters? Ash had Naked and Afraid on at her house, but I related to neither contestant very much. If you had to compare yourself to one character from Friends, who would you say you're most like? Never really watched it. What is one movie you saw only once because you hated it so much? None solely for the reason of not liking it. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged? THAT WOULD BE MY MOTHER UM LEMME THINK NO. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? None. Nightmares ruined my dad to a degree I don't think I can completely recover from, even with how close we are. Out of absolutely nowhere, I had another one that resulted in me jerking awake and literally giving out a short scream. I feel in my heart I should fully trust my dad and that his image is wrongly affected by my own fears, but I'm not very sure how to change that. Ever used a bow and arrow? Not a real one. Favorite Taylor Swift song? Fuckin FIGHT me "Picture To Burn" SLAPS. Give me a song that is underestimated/not well known: "Possession" by Otep. Otep songs in general. Does everyone in your family have a job? I'm the only one who doesn't. Name a reason you would most likely go to jail for: Probably killing someone when defending a loved one from being physically attacked, and there won't be enough evidence to show that I did it as defense or that going that far was justifiable. I have actually worried about this lmao. What kind of car did your parents have while you were growing up? A blue and then tan van, and Dad had a series of old, tan cars named Frida the Cheetah I-III. :') Do you tie your socks together or roll them up? Roll them up. What was your last bad date? I don't think I've had a bad one... Do you ever wish your birthday was on a different day? Yup, 'cuz it's occasionally Superbowl Sunday. What holiday would you want to have your birthday on? BITCH HALLOWEEN. Have you ever gone snorkeling or scuba diving? No. If yes, what’s the coolest thing you’ve seen? N/A What’s your favorite filling in chocolates? Fudge. When’s the last time you had a s'more? Some time after Sara's visit in June when we had some stuff left over. Does your best friend have any phobias? ... How am I blanking. I know some of her fears, but they're rational. Do you prefer the taste of lemon or limes? Lemons. What would you name your firstborn son? Probably Damien, or Severin. Do you cook anything you don’t like eating? I don't cook. What’s the last picture you colored? One I drew. What is the cheesiest way a guy could propose marriage? M'kay, it's always a man who proposes, I'll take note. But regardless, idk. What’s the first instrument you ever played? A recorder. Do you have an attic? A small one. Have you ever lived in the country before? My whole life. Do you drink coffee every day? No, I hate coffee. Have you ever stayed in a suite? No. Do you take good pictures? Sometimes, though I suck at manual mode because it's hard for me to tell when things are *perfectly* in focus. Have you ever been in a tornado or hurricane? Hurricanes. Do you have any bookmarks in your internet browser? If so, how many? Four. Do you know anyone in the military right now? I believe so. What’s your favorite show on Comedy Central? Don't watch it. How old is the oldest person you know? Uhhhh... late 80s? Early 90s? Do you usually go to sleep before or after the people you’re living with? Varies. Which band has the best name, in your opinion? Cradle of Filth is badass. Which one of your exes do you feel like you have the most chemistry with? Have, none, had, Jason. Do you like where your house is located? No. What’s the best hotel you’ve been to? One right by the beach. Are you into designer clothes? Nope, forget those prices. The only I plan on buying something from sometime is Cloak out of relentless support for The Man and The Apprentice. Have you ever done any internship? No. What’s your favorite store? (other than Hot Topic) Do not attack me like this. But anyway, Rebel's Market. What do you think about tattoos on women? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA fuck you. Have the cops ever gotten onto you for anything before? No. Do you have a Myspace? And if so what is your screen name? It probably still exists, and idk. Do you have a YouTube? Yeah. Facebook? Yeah. Gaia? Idk what that is. Bzoink? No. What email thingy do you use? (yahoo, gamil, rock) Hotmail and Gmail. Do you own a cellphone? If so what kind is it? A Shitty Samsung™ Do you have a digital camera? What kind is it? A Nikon D3200, but I'm hopefully getting a new Nikon or Canon soon. This camera's just about toast. What is your most common typo? Ummm. Idk. I don't make many now as I have to type slowly on this annihilated keyboard. What happens now is just not pushing down hard enough, so I wouldn't really call them "typos.' What kind of computer do you have? My actual one is a Sager, but the one I currently have to use is an Acer. Do you have an iPod/MP3 player? Yes. Literally had it since the beginning of middle school. What is your favorite video game of all time? Silent Hill 2 for story, Shadow of the Colossus for gameplay. For overall, they're pretty much tied. Have you ever played Call of Duty? No. Do you play games on the computer? When I get the Sager fixed... How many doors are in your house? Windows? Doors leading outside, I'm guessing? Two. Windows... at least eight. Nine? Most are small, though. Do you have any posters on your walls? Of what? Metallica, a unicorn at therapy being told "you need to believe in yourself," Homecoming-styled Pyramid Head, Marilyn Manson, Illidan from WoW, Silent Hill 3, Jack Skellington, a music one, and meerkats. What kind of bed do you have? (fouton, twin, bunk) Queen. Is your bed comfortable? Eh. Where is your computer located? I only have a laptop. Other than a closet, do you use a dresser/wardrobe to keep your clothes in? I have a dresser. How many mirrors do you have in your house? (other than hand-held) Uhhh two? Do you have a garage? No. Should you be doing anything right now? What? No. Do doctors or dentists make you more nervous? Doctors. Did you ever think you were about to die before? Ha, in the fourth grade when I was writing my DARE paper and I accidentally stabbed my freshly-sharpened pencil into my left palm... I thought it was lead so I ran SOBBING to my mom about how I was going to die lmao. Then after I ODed, I acknowledged there was a possibility, but I didn't care to think about whether I lived or died to like... think either one. Have you ever really had a near-death experience? Was it cool? "Was it cool." Fuck off. There's no such thing as a "cool" way of almost dying. Anyway, I got in a car accident when I was young, but Mom's driving saved our ass. I don't know if you'd classify the OD as near-death... I apparently didn't take enough to where a certain ingredient became heavily toxic or something, plus I was fucking drowned in fluids to counteract the amount I did have in super quickly (or something like that), so I didn't really experience an "I'm dying right now" fear like I did when I saw the wreck coming. How often do you brush your teeth? Once a day. How often do you shower? (Come on, tell the truth) Every other day, or if I'm being lazy, I go an extra day and regret my decision. What body type do you have? Um not skinny help. What kind of nose do you have? It's kinda little. Are your eyebrows thick? Normal. What color eyes do you wish you had? A more sapphire blue. Do you have fat lips? I'd say they're normal. Do you have a long neck? No. What are your views on abortion? Ultimately, when all things are considered, pro-choice, but I believe in avoiding abortion as well as you can. Like, just getting one solely because you were being sexually careless is a no from me, but like, if pregnancy and/or bearing a child would be an incredibly difficult feat for you emotionally and/or physically, you have the right to put yourself first. Gay marriage? All for it. What different types of churches have you visited? Catholic and Christian. Who would you want to be the flower girl at your wedding? Aubree, buuut I doubt her dad would allow it considering there's a high chance I'm marrying a woman, and he's homophobic as all hell. Do you want to be married within the next ten years? Ideally. What group are you most active in on Facebook? I'm only in one, a WoW group. I rarely comment on anything tho. Are you ashamed of anything? Yes. What were your favorite Disney rides as a kid? I don't really remember them. What were your favorite rides at Cedar Point? Never been. Have you ever owned a succulent? No. Favorite type of tea to drink in the fall? I hate tea. If a brand were to sponsor you, which brand(s) would you prefer? *shrugs* Have you read the entire Bible? No. Do you make bucket lists for each season? No. What is the next hobby you want to start? I'unno... I guess I'd like to get back to reading. Do you dye your hair regularly? No, it's not something I can afford, especially because I want complex color combos. What makes you depressed? Thinking too much about my current life issues, above anything else. My brain confuses depression and boredom a lot, and I'm bored plenty. Loved ones being hurt or upset, and sometimes thinking about the future. Do you think you could ever be famous? Nooooo, I absolutely do not want that. Do you think you have what it takes to make it big in the entertainment biz? Definitely not. What industry is it that you want to go into? Art. Do you have a job now? If so, what is it? No. What are some jobs you’ve had in the past? Sales clerk/associate. What are some jobs you want to or would like to have? List five. Photographer, zoologist, archaeologist, meerkat biologist, artist. What are some jobs you have considered? Archaeologist, vet, movie director, game designer, movie editor, and now zoologist and photography. What are some health problems you have had in the past? That I don't still have? Lots of ear infections, high cholesterol, insomnia, and talk about embarrassing, but last year I had this random span of premature nighttime incontinence... that fucking sucked. What are some of the best medications you’ve ever had? The Latuda + Lamictal combo is one of the biggest reasons I'm still alive. What is your favorite vitamin? I don't have one. Have you ever made money off of YouTube? No. What was a video you watched over and over as a kid? OH MY GOD so Nicole and I watched "Before He Cheats" covers (why idk????) and she found this one of a girl lip-syncing along to a super sped-up version and we found it stupid funny. Have you ever experienced depression as a side effect? Yes; I have both bipolarity and depression, but taking anti-depressants while also bipolar ramps your bipolar symptoms the fuck up, so of course my times of depression were soooo much worse than they were supposed to be. Have you ever been suicidal as a withdrawal symptom? No. How old were you when you started wearing glasses (if applicable)? Some time in middle school, I think? Have you ever been told you have an accent? As a kid I really did; when seeing my NY relatives, they would always point it out lmao. Now I think I only super faintly do and it's only slightly noticeable with some words. Actually at the reptile con in Illinois, after a bit of talking, a girl I met asked if I was from the U.K. because apparently she detected a faint trace of B r i t i s h? Describe the last situation in which you had to give up on an individual? I've gone back and forth with Colleen so many times that I feel anyone who reads these knows the story. What are some things that cause you to abandon association with someone? Shoving opinions in my face, arrogance, disinterest in our relationship, closed-minded, just to name a few. When was the last time you made a new friend? Ha. What is the most unusual thing within your general vicinity? Ummmm I'm not sure. Maybe my python, as she's a morph? What are some things you enjoy that not many others do? Writing, reptiles and amphibians, conspiracies, looots of snow, foreign music, watching others play games, uhhhh. Are you one who considers preserving your past important? In some ways, sure, but not a lot. Focus on the present and aim to create a future better than your past. When was the last time you had some sort of a meltdown? I'm not sure. Some time last month, I think. When was the last time you were super busy? Psh. I'm never busy. Not always a good thing. What is a quality someone might not assume you have? Serious impatience. I don't think I hint towards that weakness until like, you see me in a doctor's office. What was the last thing you did that was healthy? Got a good night's sleep. What was the last thing you did that could harm your health? Drank soda oops. Do you know anyone who self-injures? Not in the present, I believe. Have you ever had to reside with an individual who had a mental disorder? Mom has depression.

#survey #quiz #questions #random

[theclaravoyant]

Just saw you reblogged the post about "Imagine one of your OT3 being asexual and the other two accepting that fact without leaving them out of the relationship romantically." and omg, please will you write this????

AN ~ Sure! I was tempted to write the “some of us are trying to sleep, you animals!” scene but it never turned into anything of substance (or improved upon the line itself #gold), so I went a different way and wrote this instead! Hope you like it.

FitzSkimmons. Fluff (mostly, bc #drama). Rated T for some sexual references. 

Read on AO3 (~1800wd).

Equilibrium

A cab rolled slowly down New York’s busy streets, stopping and starting with the traffic. Inside it, voices slightly drunk with love and glee and freedom talked and laughed about dinner and the movie they had just seen, and debated their plans for the rest of the evening.

“There’s a comedy show uptown,” Fitz suggested. “Theatre sports, or something. Whose Line is it Anyway type stuff. It looks like fun. Some of those guys are really clever.”

“Or, there’s apparently an orchestra playing in this park…” Jemma mused, rapidly reading through an article on her phone to find more details.

“Or,” Daisy suggested, “we could blow both of those things off, call three museums and a movie enough cultural engagement for one day, and go back to the hotel for dessert.”

“You put up a good argument,” Fitz mused, raising an eyebrow and thinking about the fudge sundae he had spied earlier on the room service menu. Jemma, however, seemed to be thinking of a very different kind of dessert. She smiled saucily at Daisy.

“What kind of dessert?” she asked, her tone leaning on one particular answer.

“Both is good,” Daisy suggested, leaning the same way. “Do you think the hotel sells chocolate sauce by the bottle? A jug, maybe?”

Jemma snorted.

“I’m not pouring chocolate sauce on you from a jug.”

“Who said you were doing the pouring?”

Daisy looked at Fitz. Jemma did too. Suddenly, the fudge sundae didn’t feel so appealing. He raised his arms in a plea for amnesty.

“Hey, don’t look at me, I’m not pouring sauce on anyone. You guys go back to the hotel. I’ll meet you later. I think I’m going to check out that show, or something.”

Daisy and Jemma glanced at each other, concerned.

“I was joking about the sauce,” Daisy amended. “I’m not going to make some poor sucker clean up my sex chocolate. Come on, that’s gross.”

“We could just have a quiet night in,” Jemma continued, in a quiet tone Fitz knew was meant to appease him. He waved her off.

“Honestly, I don’t mind,” he insisted. “I just don’t feel like it, that’s all. Have a few hours to yourselves, have fun. We had a great day. Don’t bring it down just for me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely. Go on, have fun.”

The cab driver, after waiting an appropriate number of seconds, checked:

“Change of plans?”

“Let me out on this corner, please,” Fitz requested. “I’ll take the subway. Their ride’s on me.”

The driver pulled over, and Fitz passed him some cash as he extricated himself from the car, pecking both Daisy and Jemma on the cheek before he left and disappeared down the subway tunnel. The cab rolled on toward the hotel.

-

Jemma and Daisy passed the rest of the trip in near-silence, all of a sudden acutely aware of the personal nature of the conversation they needed to have, and of the distance between here and a personal space. The cab driver, fortunately, kept his nose out of their business, but by the time they got to the hotel, it was clear that any activities in the general vicinity of chocolate sauce were well off the table. They dashed to the elevator, not to start on each other’s coats but rather, to finally get a moment to discuss in private.

“Is it just me, or –“

“Has Fitz been weird lately? No, not just you,” Jemma agreed, stuffing her hands into her pockets in an effort to resist the urge to twist her hair and pace. “I should have noticed it earlier. He’s never been much of a sexual person – I think that’s what it is.”

“You don’t think it’s me?” Daisy wondered, frowning with concern as she followed Jemma down the hall to their room. “I know he’s always been more comfortable with that sort of stuff around you. Maybe I should back off.”

“No, it’s not just you. Even when we’re alone…”

“Us too,” Daisy mentioned. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the physical side of things is fine, but… I didn’t want to say it, I thought maybe he was just off his game, but he hasn’t been the most emotionally engaged participant. And you know Fitz. He’s usually King of Emotional Engagement.”

Jemma sighed, and sunk onto the bed, gazing up at the roof in despair.

“Do you think he maybe just… doesn’t like sex? Like, as a concept. As an activity. Maybe he just, objectively, doesn’t find it fun.”

“I don’t understand how that’s possible,” Daisy remarked, snorting a little at the suggestion. “I mean. It’s chemistry, right? Pleasure hormones everywhere. I hate to be all ‘he’s a guy, of course he wants it,’ but like… sure, he’s a gentleman, but a hot one, with fully functioning anatomy, in a relationship with two hot women that he loves and finds attractive and who find him attractive. He can’t lose.”

“He definitely finds us sexy,” Jemma remarked. “And he’s a great kisser. I mean. God. But as for the sex, I mean, what if we’re conceptualizing it all wrong? What if it’s like… I don’t know, skydiving. These days it’s pretty safe, you get amazing views, we would be down for it – all the reasons are there, but there’s still no way you could get Fitz to go without a fight. And like you said, he’s a gentleman, and he loves us. Maybe he just does it for us.”

“Hm.” Daisy sat, pensive. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“But what if we’re wrong?” she wondered. “What if he’s just having an off time? I don’t want to leave him out on the presumption that he’s not enjoying himself.”

“Mm,” Jemma agreed, and sat up. “You know, I think it’s time for a team meeting.”

-

Sometimes, a “team meeting” was the three of them, a round of beers, and the run-down lounges back on base. Tonight, however – given the opportunities they could seize on this rare weekend of R&R – it was a table with a red cloth and a candle, and three chairs around it, and giant cookies instead of real dessert so that they could wait however long was necessary for Fitz to return. Once they’d set up, Daisy and Jemma dressed down, and spent the rest of the evening chatting and, eventually, snoozing, in a snuggle on the bed, until they heard Fitz’s key in the lock. They pulled themselves to attention, and Fitz stumbled to a halt.

“Sorry,” he said, confused. “Should I have texted you? I promise, I wasn’t mad or anything.”

“We know,” Jemma assured him, directing him to the table and the cookies to make things a little less confrontational. “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about. We’ve been noticing some patterns in your behaviour and we just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Especially,” Daisy added, “when it comes to sex. You’ve been blowing us off for a while now and we just wanted to check – is something going on? Can we help?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Fitz shrugged, but the girls did not let the matter drop. His shrug turned into a reluctant hum and he qualified: “It’s nothing in particular.”

“See, I was right,” Jemma said, prodding Daisy. “It’s not you.”

“You?” Fitz gasped. “Oh, no, Daisy, it’s not you at all! I’ve just never really liked sex.”

“This whole time?” Daisy wondered, incredulous. “And you just went with it?”

Fitz shrugged. “You guys were having fun!”

“Fitz!” Daisy cried. “That’s creepy! Ugh, I feel gross now. I’m sorry.” She stood up, pacing and fretting with her hands.

“Sit down, Daisy, please? It’s not like that, I promise,” Fitz explained. “It’s more like… if you guys dragged me to a chick flick every weekend. I do enjoy myself, but I enjoy it because you’re enjoying it. The actual act just doesn’t do much for me. Like, at all. You guys seemed to be able to entertain yourselves tonight so I stepped out and did something I found more fun. That’s all.”

“Good,” Daisy said, and Jemma nodded alongside her. “But why didn’t you just tell us that’s what it was? Nobody expects you to come to a rom-com every week. What have we been doing to make you think we expected you to get in the mood every time we felt like it?”

Fitz shrugged.

“I guess that’s on me a bit. I felt… ashamed, sort of. You’re both so brilliant and attractive and I love you so much. Why wouldn’t I want to do it, you know?”

“Fitz,” Jemma scolded, and left her chair to sit on Fitz’s lap side-saddle and wrap her arms around his neck. She kissed him firmly. “How often you want to have sex with Daisy or I is not correlated to how much you love us. We know that. We’re never going to hold it over you, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed. “I mean, if you’re ever up for it, you say the word and we’ll be there, but don’t feel like you’re depriving us of anything. It’s not like it’s your responsibility to have sex with us. And besides, if nothing else, we can take care of ourselves, right Jem?”

“You know it.” Jemma grinned, and Daisy grinned, and after a few seconds of coaxing, Fitz was smiling too. A sense of relief began to unclench an anxiety that he’d been holding onto for far longer than he’d realised, and his smile became easier, and he kissed Jemma softly and beckoned Daisy closer.

“Look, I’m sorry if I worried you guys. Thanks for the team meeting. I feel much better now that it’s all out in the open.”

“Us too,” Daisy agreed. “But I bet I’ll feel even better once I get this monstrosity into me. You know, apparently, these are the chunkiest choc chip cookies in Manhattan.”

“Is that so?” Fitz mused. “We’ll have to see about that.”

He broke a piece off the cookie from his own plate, and fed it to Jemma. She chewed thoughtfully.“Well?” Daisy asked,

“Well, we’ll have to taste every choc chip cookie in Manhattan to test this fairly, won’t we?” Jemma pointed out, and reached across the table to snap a piece off Daisy’s cookie. Daisy swiped at her thieving fingers, and missed.

“That’s cheating!” she yelped. “It’s the same kind!”

Jemma grinned, her mouth still full and surrounded with crumbs.

“Sample size, Daisy,” Fitz explained with a surprisingly straight face – that is, until Daisy snatched the rest of his cookie from under his nose, and then he lunged after it, and Jemma shrieked as she was upseated. For a while after that, chaos reigned, as the three of them scrabbled all around the room; battling for each other’s cookies, making and abandoning alliances, playing keep-away. They laughed and tickled and tackled each other until the cookies had disappeared and the candle on their table had burnt out and the three of them had collapsed in a messy, exhausted, joyful heap on the bed, and had fallen asleep that way.

#fitzskimmons #ot3: fitzskimmons #aospositivitynet #prompt me stuff #ace!fitz #happy pride! #clara's fic tag #unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot

[fallen029]

Guidelines

The night before his wedding, the last thing Laxus thought he would be doing was walking home from the market with only the rolls of toilet paper that he needed back at the house. He'd always imagined, if he ever did get forced into marriage somehow, that he'd go out with a bang.

Err, bangs.

Very literal ones.

With a lot of women.

At the same time.

Be something to remember. Something to always look back on.

Then he got involved with the demon.

Sigh.

That was all out the window, of course. Because, as he had slowly come to terms with, they were in love and committed to one another and would never do something so horrible to the other. No way.

Life was complicated.

So as he walked down the street, mumbling his vows for the next morning under his breath (Mira insisted they write their own), he fought hard to act like he wasn't feeling the slight bit nervous.

Oh, but he was. Horribly so.

It wasn't so much that he doubted that he was doing the right thing by marrying Mirajane. No, it wasn't that at all. In fact, he knew that he was. Mira was the one for him. Completely and wholly. He loved her. He was so deeply in love with her that there was no way to ever get back out.

Believe him, he'd tried.

But nope. No cigar. He was marrying the she-devil. It was just the way it had to be. He-

"The hell?" Laxus growled as, suddenly, someone jumped him from behind. Easily flinging them off his back, he got ready to attack.

"Ow! Laxus!"

"L-Lisanna?" He relaxed almost immediately. "Wha- Hey!"

He was hit then, rather roughly in the shoulder. And sure enough, there was Elfman, the other male looking discouragingly at Laxus.

"A real man wouldn't hurt a little girl."

"She attacked me! And hit me again, Elfboy, and I'll-"

"I'm not a little girl," Lisanna complained from where she still sat on the sidewalk, rubbing at her head. "But that did hurt, Laxus."

"I'm sorry, kid," he sighed then, leaning down to help her up. Elfman beat him to it though, easily getting his baby sister back on her feet. "I didn't know it was- And hey; the hell you idiots think you're doing, surprising me like that?"

"We came to talk to you," Elfman told him after making sure that Lisanna was okay. "And we didn't want you to get away!"

"Why would I try and-"

"We're here to discuss Mirajane."

Laxus blinked. "Is something wrong with her?"

"Considering she's marrying you? We think so."

"Elfman," Lisanna complained, taking to crossing her arms then. "And no, Laxus. That's not it."

"Then-"

"You're marrying our big sister tomorrow," Elfman began again. "And we've kept quiet for far too long!"

"Uh, no, you haven't," Laxus said. "You bellyache about it all the time. Less like a man and more like, oh, what's the word? A boy?"

"Hey-"

"We just want to go over some ground rules," Lisanna said, glaring at him. "That's all."

"Ground rules?" He blinked. "Me and the demon have been basically livin' together for six months now, but now you wanna lay these on-"

"Number one," Lisanna began as Laxus only shook his head and started walking once more. They were quick to follow. "We come first."

"Always," Elfman agreed.

"Isn't this something you should take up with the demon herself? Or-"

"Until you guys start pooping out babies."

"Elfman," Lisanna giggled.

"What?"

"You said pooping."

"Isn't that what people say?"

"Popping," she corrected. "You pop out a baby. You don't poop it out."

"I understand the anatomy behind it, Lisanna," he complained. "But the saying is-"

"The saying is popping."

"Really? All these years and I've been saying it wrong?"

"I-"

"Would you idiots buzz off?" Laxus complained. "I'm tryin' to walk here."

"And no one's stopping you from doing that," Lisanna said. "Anyways, the point is, we can come second to your kids, but not you. Err, well, I can. Elfman's third."

"Why am I third?" he complained. "Maybe you're third."

"I'm always first, Elfman," Lisanna told him, sticking her tongue out at him, having to lean over Laxus to do so, as they were on opposite sides of the thunder mage. "It's just the way things-"

"Get to the fucking other numbers," Laxus complained. "Quickly."

"Oh, right." Lisanna giggled as Elfman took to scowling.

How come he and Lisanna weren't equal? He would be taking that up with Mirajane later!

"So next is that all holidays are spent with us."

"What holidays?"

"All holidays."

"The hell else would I spend them with?"

"Well, we don't know," Lisanna said. "But we'd like it to be known for sure that you're not whisking Mira away for any of them. Ever."

"Ever? Ever's here?"

"Focus, Elfman," his sister complained before clearing her throat. "Number five-"

"You're on three," Laxus sighed.

"Huh?"

"You're on- Never mind. Onto number five."

Lisanna nodded, grinning at him. "If you ever hurt Mirajane, we'll restrain you as she kills you."

"Hurt her?"

"Like, you know, hit her or something," Lisanna said.

"Why would I-"

"Mira does get a tad annoying sometimes," Elfman said. "But if you even so much as think about striking her, we'll help her beat the crap out of you!"

"Why do you need her help?"

Elfman only looked at him. "Mira's, like, the manliest man around. Why wouldn't we want her help?"

"Yeah, Laxus," Lisanna complained. "Use your head a little."

"Silly me."

"And," the youngest Strauss sibling went on. "We'd like for you to consider once more changing your name to Strauss and becoming our fourth sibling."

"No thanks."

"Come on," Elfman insisted. "I don't like ya none, but it we'd be an unstoppable team!"

"Don't need your help. You'd only hold me back."

"Fine," Lisanna groaned. "The next one is, obviously, that we get to name your firstborn."

"The fuck? No."

"It's a rule."

"I said no."

"But-"

"I'm going to toss you to the ground again, Lisanna."

"Fine," she sighed. "You can name your own children."

"As if I needed your damn permission."

"Hey." Elfman shoved his shoulder which about got the big dope flat on his ass. Laxus was feeling rather amiable that day.

Not to mention, he didn't want to flip out on the big goof and have Mira overreact and call off the wedding.

"Watch who you're talking to," his fiancée's brother grumbled.

"And watch who the fuck you touch," Laxus said before reminding him, "I can get Ever to do whatever the hell I please. I've told you more than once, Elfboy, that I am the last man you want to mess with."

"Anyways," Lisanna continued, not taking a hint for some reason. "The next-"

"Where is Ever anyway?" Laxus grumbled. "And Bickslow, Lisanna? Shouldn't you two be chasing after them?"

"I don't chase after Ever," Elfman complained. "Anymore."

"And Bickslow and I are on a break."

"Do what now?"

Lisanna only looked off. "We have come to a crossroads."

"Meaning?"

For a moment, Laxus thought that Lisanna wouldn't answer. And, honestly, in that moment, he was thankful, as for that brief second, he'd forgotten that he didn't give a damn.

Then she started talking.

Sigh.

"His favorite ice cream is freaking vanilla. Like, plain old vanilla! And he won't even put anything on it."

"…I'm lost," Elfman said as Laxus decided he didn't want to be found. "Why-"

"Because, Elf," she complained. "How could we ever share an ice cream cone if I can't even put sprinkles or hot fudge or anything on it? And when I brought this up, he was all like, 'That's stupid, Lisanna. I don't want you eating my ice cream anyways! Get your own. Why should I buy you anything? Huh? Huh?' And then I told him-"

"Are you guys seriously even dating?" Laxus couldn't believe he cared, but…ugh.

"Yes."

"Really? I mean-"

"Ever doesn't share her ice cream either," Elfman sighed.

"How long have you guys even been on a break?" Laxus asked.

"Um…since two hours ago."

Rolling his eyes, Laxus said, "But isn't tonight the night that you guys-"

"Make the babies all new bodies? Yeah. I'm still gonna go over and do that. But not because we're dating! Because-"

"I really don't care."

"You asked."

"My mistake."

"Oh, and hey." Elfman was animated again then, balling up his fists as he spoke. "That's not the only reason we came looking for you!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then get to it, because I'm about home and-"

"We came to stop you from sleeping with other women!"

"…You caught me. I have a fetish for toilet paper and hot women."

"I knew it."

"Elf," Lisanna giggled.

He only glared at Laxus though. "I know how guys like you are. I know what you thought you would do with your night."

"Uh, wait for Mira to get home, sleep on the couch probably because she's been so emotional and shit recently, then get kicked out of the apartment in the morning so she could get ready or whatever. That's my plans. Oh, and take a big shit. Hence the toilet paper. I lied about the fetish."

Lisanna was about dissolved in her giggles then, but Elfman kept his glare up, not falling for it for one second.

"You know," he said stiffly. "I'm still not on board with this marriage."

"Oh, really? I'm amazed."

"This ain't no joke," the muscular man grumbled. "This is my big sister! And you're not going to-"

"You think I wanted to get married? At any point in my life?" Laxus stopped walking then, turning to glare at Elfman. "I didn't. Ever. Until I realized just how much I loved the demon. Then I knew. And I ain't fuckin' what I have with her up for nothing. So if you're gonna be like this even after we get married, then you just need to get the fuck out of our lives right now. I don't need your negativity ruining the only good thing I got going for me."

He didn't even flinch then as, once more, Lisanna jumped him from behind. It was a hug that time though and, shifting the back of toilet paper to one hand, he reached up with one hand to pat hers, which were tight around his neck.

Elfman only grunted before walking once more. "Whatever. The other rule is that you two are not allowed to form sorta rebellion against me."

Lisanna only let Laxus go before rushing out of her brother. "You'll always be my second favorite."

"Mira's your first and you're hers? This is a conspiracy."

"I meant second favorite brother. You're my third favorite sibling."

"That's not-"

"You never did say where Evergreen was," Laxus complained, walking behind them then. Anything to get them off their current topic. "Figured she and the others would be crying over me today."

'Awe," Lisanna giggled. "You upset that you're not being worshiped?"

"No," he grumbled. Well… "Just confused is all."

"She said that she had some business with Freed and Bickslow."

"About me?" Laxus asked, trying to keep the hope out of his tone.

Okay, so maybe he expected the three of them to be a little more heartbroken over their idol officially being off limits. Namely Freed.

"Nope." Elfman shook his head. "Mirajane."

"Mira?" Lisanna asked. "Bickslow didn't mention anything. Then again, we were fighting. I mean, seriously, who is against hot fudge? That's, like, the most basic of-"

"Mirajane?" Laxus repeated, coming to a stop once more. "They're with Mirajane?"

"Yeah? So?" Glancing back at him, Elfman said, "Who cares? They're just up at the bar, I'm sure."

"You idiot!" Laxus thrust the pack of toilet paper at Lisanna then before turning back.

"Wha-"

"If you dummies came here to give me a talk," he complained, running off for the guildhall, "the hell you think those dumbasses are doing?"

"This is a mighty long list here, Freed," Mira said slowly, glancing over a few of the bullet points on the piece of paper the other man had handed her. "I mean, do I really need to cut up Laxus' steak for him? I mean, we go out to eat all the time and I've never-"

"Do you want him to choke?"

"W-Well-"

"You really have to make sure you do number twelve," Ever said as she sat up at the bar next to her three team members, filing her nails while she was at it. "Ooh, and seven is a biggie."

Bickslow, who had been pouting the whole time, just kept staring down at the bar. Mira, noticing this, gave him a small smile.

"It's okay, Bickslow," she said. "Laxus and I might be getting married, but it's not that big of a deal. It-"

"It is a gigantic deal," Freed yelled at her, almost jumping up out of his seat. He was so loud, in fact, that he startled Cana just as she was tilting her barrel back, making the woman topple over and Macao rush to help her up. "It's the biggest thing to happen since…since…since ever!"

"What?" the woman complained.

"I wasn't talking to you, Ever, I was saying-"

"That's not what's wrong," Bickslow grumbled as his dolls huddled close around their master's head. His visor was down, but Mira could read just from the bottom half of his face that he was in a sour mood.

"Then what-"

"I don't like chocolate, okay? Why is that such a big deal? Huh? Huh?"

Mira just stared. "I didn't say it was. I only-"

"Bickslow!" Freed slammed his fists down on the bar.

"Please don't-" Mira tried, but the letter mage was quite wound up that day and just spoke over her.

"Today is not about you," he growled. "It is about making sure that Mira understands how valuable Laxus' life is. He is the most important soul to ever grace the earth! We are all lucky to-"

"I have a hair appointment in an hour." Ever glanced at both her male teammates before looking to Mirajane. "So just follow the list, huh? Oh, and tell your brother that we're on code blue at the wedding tomorrow."

"Code blue?" Mira frowned. "I don't understand."

"You don't need to," she said. "But he does."

"I-"

"It means that he's allowed to talk to her, but they are not going home together. No hooking up on the date either. Just making out. Maybe," Bickslow grumbled. "Blue balls. Get it?"

"Look," Ever hissed at him. "Just because you and Lisanna are on the outs-"

"This is a lot of information all at once," Mira said slowly. "And, for the record, I don't want any of you hooking up at my wedding. At all."

"That is not the information that you need to be paying attention to!" Freed was losing it. "You are to be focusing on Laxus, Mirajane. Now. And forever. For the rest of his life. It is your job to make sure that all of his needs are met when they arise. All of them, Mira. All. Of. Them."

Ever rolled her eyes. "Just for this, tell Elfman we're on code red."

"Aw, man. Code red? And I didn't even do nothin'?"

They all frowned at Elfman's voice as he came into the guildhall, Lisanna and Laxus in tow.

"This is really uncalled for, Ever," the man kept up as he came closer.

'Uncalled for? You're lucky I don't put you on code-"

"No more codes!" Freed growled as Laxus approached. The second the man was close enough, he turned to look at him. "I have provided Mirajane with a list of all the things you require for the two of you to have a happy life together."

"You what?"

Mira nodded. "It's twice the size of the one he gave me when you and I first started dating."

"Oh geez."

"Hello, Bickslow," Lisanna said then, holding her head high, all cordial and shit. Ugh. He only slowly got up from the stool. Raising his own head, he rubbed at his chest with his fist.

"Good evein', Lissy."

"Hi, Lissy!"

"Babies, please," Bickslow complained as his dolls came to circle around her head. She took to looking off.

"I've brought you our standard makeup gift." She held out the toilet paper. "On such short notice-"

"Ah! Four-ply? You shouldn't have. And to think, I am just so unprepared. I don't got nothin' on me, but I can buy you a drink if you-"

"Give me that," Laxus growled as he reached over to snatch back the package. "You freaks."

"Oy, boss," he complained. "You're messing up my big makeup scene here."

"You dopes were fighting over some damn ice cream. If it's that big of a deal, Lisanna, I'll pay for it every time you go out and you can both get your own damn cones."

"It wasn't about the jewels, Laxus," she complained. "It was- Oh, wait, hey, that's a real good deal."

"It really is," Bickslow agreed. "We go out for ice cream probably five times ever week."

"You what?" Laxus frowned at them. "Then how is this the first time you've had this fight?"

"It's not," the other man responded with a shrug. "We have it, oh, five times a week."

"Every damn time you go-"

"Quick, Bicks," Lisanna said. "Let's fight over rent so he can pay that too."

"That's so smart, Lissy. You're, like-"

"No," Laxus growled. "And why do you fight about-"

"Doy, Laxus," Lisanna said. "You can't makeup if you don't fight."

"And you can't have hot makeup sex unless you're making up, yeah?" Bickslow said with a wink and what he thought was a whisper.

It was not.

Laxus glared at him before looking to Mirajane. "You're getting off early. Now."

"Code black is far more appropriate," Elfman was saying about that time as Ever only continued fliling her nails. Once she got them how she liked, she got to her feet.

"Code orange."

"Ew, Ever," her seith teammate said, making a face as Lisanna made a gagging noise.

"What's-"

"Handy," Bickslow snickered in response to Mira's question.

"We're leaving," Laxus told Mira firmly then. Glancing around, he found Kinana and called out to her. "Mira's taking off early. Wedding stuff."

"Laxus," Mira complained, though she did head after him, giggling.

"Remember the guidelines," Freed called after them. "Mira! Laxus needs a lot of maintenance! This is serious!"

The second she was near, Laxus grabbed Mira's hand, her giggling as they fled the bar and their friends.

"Let's just elope," Laxus told her once they were free of the guildhall.

"Laxus," she giggled.

"Swear, I'll eat the costs,"

"They just love us," she said, snuggling up to his arm as they walked along.

"Yeah, well."

"And you got the toilet paper. Good boy."

Grunt. Then, glancing down at her, he saw the smile on her face and found a grin on his own to match.

"You ready for tomorrow, demon?"

"Mmmhmm. Aren't you?"

"Yeah," he sighed, leaning down to kiss her head. "I am."

"Although," she sighed. "After reading number fifteen, Laxus, I'm shocked we've made it this far in our relationship. Freed helps you blow your nose?"

He snatched the list from her before crumpling it up. "They're a bunch of idiots."

"But they're our idiots," she reminded.

"Unfortunately."

#Miraxus #Bixanna #Elfever #Freed Justine #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction #Thunder Legion #Thunder God Tribe #Thunder Strauss Tribe #Mirajane #Laxus

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero​ and @magic713m​

Chapter Four Horace Slughorn

Harry sat in the window seat of the Potters’ small parlor. His leg bounced nervously as he twisted a purple and gold pamphlet in his hand, more out of a need to fidget than any real interest in its contents. His green eyes drifted instead to the garden outside, but it remained unchanged. The sun set slowly, and the hyacinths beneath the window danced lazily in the slight breeze. He could just make out Neville and his father working in the garden on the south side of the house. They’d invited Harry to join them, but Harry had declined, unsure if he’d had the time. He checked his wristwatch for the third time that hour.

It was still not yet seven. He had hours to go, but that did not stop him from being nervous.

The door to the parlor creaked open. Harry turned, startled, and half-expected to see Dumbledore standing in the doorway, but it was only Sirius.

Three nights ago, Dumbledore had written Lily, James, and Harry to ask if he could borrow Harry for an errand. He had been vague about what the errand was, but assured them it had nothing to do with Voldemort and was purely Hogwarts business. Still, Lily and James were hesitant to let Harry go. They trusted Dumbledore in a way they did not trust the Ministry, and Harry’s curiosity was piqued. He wanted to help Dumbledore with whatever the errand was.

“Did you get enough to eat?” Sirius asked.

This was an unusual question for Sirius, who did his best to appear irresponsible. His reckless behavior included letting Harry fly his motorbike and making jokes in the middle of life-threatening situations. Over these last two weeks, however, Sirius had been strangely attentive.

Harry tried to smile. “I think Mellie would skin me alive if I didn’t take second helpings of everything.”

“Maybe we should warn your dad. She might be fattening you up to eat you.”

Harry laughed, but his momentary humor was immediately wiped away by Sirius’s next question.

“Dumbledore won’t be here for a few hours yet. D’you want to do some drills while we wait?”

Harry groaned. He had asked Sirius at the beginning of the summer to teach him healing spells. After the fight in the Department of Mysteries, where Pearl Lais and Ginny Weasley had both broken bones, Harry had thought it would be handy to learn a few simple spells for healing up cuts and breaks. Perhaps he couldn’t practice advanced counter-curses, but he could learn the basics.

So far, Sirius had Harry doing nothing but reciting anatomy textbooks. Sirius insisted that Harry learn the name of every bone and organ, where they were in the body, and how they worked. It was a lot of information, and while Harry worked hard at it, he was tired of repeating the same words over and over.

“Can’t I do some real magic yet?” Harry asked.

“We’re not quite ready for you to stick your wand into any open wounds. The next step is dissecting a live frog.”

Harry concentrated very hard on keeping his face still, afraid to betray disgust at the idea.

Sirius had taught himself healing magic when at fifteen, with nothing for assistance but the Hogwarts library. Harry wanted to show that same determination under Sirius’s tutelage. Still, he couldn’t help but feel queasy to think of how many frogs had suffered in Sirius’s hands as he had tried to learn all he could about healing, just to make things a little easier on Remus’s werewolf transformations.

Sirius may have worked hard to appear careless, but he was not good at it if you knew him for very long.

“I think I can do that.” Even as Harry got to his feet, he felt light-headed.

“You sure? It’s not a pretty part of the job.”

“I want to learn this,” Harry said with more confidence. He followed Sirius from the parlor and into the dining room. “I need to know healing spells.”

Lily, seated at the dining room table, looked up from the letter in front of her. “What are you working on today?”

“Sirius wants me to dissect a frog.”

She set her quill down. “Oh! I do need some frog parts for our potions stock. Mind if I sit in and cut out what I need when you’re done?”

Sirius shrugged. “I figured for our first dissection I’d use a Duplicate, but if you need us to use a real frog….”

“No, never mind. It’s not an urgent need. Besides, I should probably finish this letter.” But Lily stared at the parchment in front of her like it was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Scrimgeour again?” Harry asked.

Lily and James had read him the letters from Fudge, and the subsequent letters from Scrimgeour, all asking for Harry’s help at the Ministry — or at the least, asking for Harry to make a show of helping the Ministry. Lily and James had asked Harry what he wanted before making their decision. Harry did not want to help the Ministry when they had done so little to help him last year, and his parents agreed. He appreciated that his parents were making a conscious effort to be more open with him, especially after they had kept the prophecy from him for so long.

Though Harry had been angry with his parents for keeping such an important secret from him, he could see now why they had done it. Even just the rumor of a prophecy had sent the Wizarding World into a frenzy. The front page of the Daily Prophet wondered if Harry was “The Chosen One” to defeat Voldemort, and both Ministers for Magic incessantly begged Harry to help the Auror Office, to restore confidence in the Ministry, they said.

When Lily had told Harry the prophecy just a couple weeks ago, she’d said that she and James had never wanted Harry to grow up as a weapon. Now that people suspected Harry could be destined to defeat Voldemort, it seemed like that was all people wanted from him. He understood his parents’ desire for secrecy much more clearly.

It was still hard to forgive them.

“That’s our latest letter to Scrimgeour.” Lily gestured to a sheet of parchment at her left. “I’m waiting for James to read and sign it before I send it off.” Paragraphs of black ink ran from the top to bottom of the page, lengthy words and arguments that probably could have been summarized in a simple, “No, thank you, and please stop contacting us about this matter.” She tapped the feathered end of her quill against the incomplete letter in front of her. “This one’s to Remus.”

“Did he write us?” Harry asked hopefully.

“No, I just thought…. Last Monday was the full moon, so I thought I’d let him know we were thinking of him, and maybe send him some chocolate frogs.”

Harry’s heart sank with disappointment. His last conversation with Remus had not been the best terms to say goodbye on. Harry had gotten upset with Remus, just as he had with Sirius and his parents, for keeping the prophecy from him. Remus had taken Harry’s anger and talked him through it, then encouraged Harry to forgive and trust his parents. He had not asked Harry for forgiveness himself, and Harry, though he was still struggling to forgive his parents and Sirius, wished Remus were here this summer, too, so Harry could at least try to repair his relationship with Remus.

“Tell him I miss him, too,” Harry said.

“Of course. Sirius?”

Sirius snorted. “I have nothing to say to him that I haven’t already told him.” He hesitated, then sighed. “If you really want him to come by, let him know I won’t be here, and I’ll clear out for whatever day it is. It’s me he’s avoiding more than anything.”

Lily frowned. “I’m sure that’s not —”

“Come on, Harry, let’s look at some frog innards.”

Sirius disappeared into the kitchen. Lily frowned after him.

“Do you know what he means?” She kept her voice low to keep it from carrying into the kitchen.

“Sort of. Not really.” Harry ran his hand through his hair in a gesture that was so unconsciously like his father. “They fought at St. Mungo’s. Sirius said it was about nothing, but I think he was mad Remus wouldn’t take his wand.”

This did not sound like the right explanation, but Harry, who had mulled over Remus and Sirius’s fight for days now, had not been able to come up with a better answer. He’d been meaning to ask James about it but hadn’t had a chance to. Sirius, clearly, wasn’t going to talk about it.

“Harry,” Sirius called, “are we doing this or what?”

Harry hurried into the kitchen. Picksie had been wiping down the woodstove, but when she learned what they were about to do, she squeaked and disappeared with a pop. Sirius Summoned a frog from the garden, Duplicated it, and returned the original frog to the pond. Harry wasn’t sure using a Duplication was any less disgusting, but on the whole, the experience wasn’t as terrible as Harry had expected. Sirius explained each spell he used as they cut into the frog, and told Harry that next time he would expect Harry to cast the spells. Sirius then pointed out the systems in the frog’s body, showed Harry how they worked, and asked Harry to make the appropriate comparisons to the human anatomy Harry had been learning.

Sirius was in the middle of pointing out the nervous system when everything fell into chaos.

Neville and James returned from their gardening, arms full of Leaping Toadstools. Neville saw the frog on the table with its skin pinned back to reveal the frog’s inner workings, whispered, “Trevor —” and promptly swooned. James lurched forward to catch him before he hit the floor. All their toadstools went leaping about the kitchen.

Harry abandoned his lesson to slam the back door shut. Lily heard James shouting for help and rushed into the kitchen. A pair of toadstools leapt past her before she could close the door to the dining room. Sirius swore as the toadstools jumped around his feet. Picksie appeared suddenly to see what the commotion was and shrieked as toadstools leapt onto her head. Sirius’s half-opened frog took advantage of the distraction to spring back to life. Sirius swore loudly and pointed his wand at the frog before it could leap out the kitchen window. It croaked once, and Sirius Vanished it. Harry hastily tried to scoop up toadstools while Lily dug a cardboard box out from a cupboard. James handed the woozy Neville off to Picksie so he could help collect toadstools. The challenging part was not only grabbing them, but keeping them in the box once they’d been collected. They liked to leap out.

“Don’t Stun them,” Lily snapped at Sirius as a red spark shot from his wand. “They’re no good in potions once they’ve been Stunned!”

“Then Picksie can make us a nice mushroom soup instead,” Sirius snapped back, tossing the Stunned toadstool onto the counter. “Are they really worth this trouble?”

“Usually you take the box with you when you harvest them.” Lily wrangled another mushroom into the box and glared at James.

“It was an impulse decision!” James’s glasses fell off his face as he dove under the kitchen table after one of the toadstools. “Neville said they looked ready to harvest, and I thought he was right.”

“They were ready alright,” Harry grunted. He grabbed one in each hand and shoved them into the box Lily guarded.

The kitchen fireplace suddenly roared to life with green flame.

Harry let a toadstool slip out of his hands as he looked at his watch. “It’s eleven already?”

“Dammit — For Merlin’s sake —” Lily snatched a mushroom mid-leap and shoved it back into the box.

“Picksie, can you — ow!” James hit his head against the table as he tried to crawl out from under it.

Out from the green flames and into the chaos of the kitchen stepped Albus Dumbledore.

If Dumbledore was surprised to see Neville unconscious on the kitchen floor while the Potters, Sirius, and Picksie scrambled around the kitchen catching Leaping Toadstools, he did not show it. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes betrayed only the smallest glimpse of amusement as he said, “It seems I’ve caught you at a bad time.”

Sirius lunged for a Leaping Toadstool that had managed to get on the counter and was making a jump for the open kitchen window. “Could be worse.”

James rubbed at a growing lump on the back of his head. “Can we get you anything to drink?”

Dumbledore’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Even in the darkest of times your hospitality shines bright. I shall do my best not to intrude for too long.”

Harry snatched up the last of the toadstools and stuffed it into the box. Hastily, Lily closed the box flaps and used her wand to seal it. It still rattled as the contents bounced against its walls.

“Those will be fun to chop.” Lily took in a few deep breaths and pulled her hair back. “So sorry about the mess. Harry, are you ready to go?”

Harry got to his feet and dusted the knees of his trousers. “I guess?” He looked to Dumbledore. “What will I need? My wand?”

“It would be unwise to travel without one, yes,” Dumbledore said. Picksie handed him a glass of water. “Ah, thank you.” He took a seat at the kitchen table. “And, Harry, I would advise you to bring along that wonderful cloak of yours. It might come in handy.”

Lily shot a glare at James. “You mean the cloak he wasn’t supposed to inherit until he turned seventeen?”

James grimaced. “Now is probably not the time.”

“If you don’t mind,” Dumbledore said, “I’d like very much for Harry to keep the cloak with him at school. I think it will come in handy while he is at Hogwarts.”

“It has so far,” Harry said, though it was probably not the smartest thing to say in front of his mother, who knew only a fraction of the trouble Harry had gotten into with the cloak, and that alone was enough to make her wish he’d never had it. “But,” he added quickly, “won’t you guys need it?” he turned to Lily and James. “You’re the ones who will be fighting — I’ll be away at school.”

James shook his head, then winced and pressed his hand to the growing knot beneath his hair. “It’s your cloak Harry. You keep it.”

“Besides,” Lily said, “if Dumbledore says you need it, then he’s probably right.”

Dumbledore shrugged. “I have been known to make mistakes.”

Sirius snorted. “Few and far between.”

“Right,” Harry said. “I’ll just get my cloak then.”

Harry hurried upstairs to his bedroom, careful to avoid setting off the alarm on the fourth step. His trunk was half-unpacked. Clothes had been removed, but textbooks, parchment, and quills still lay in the trunk, a chaos born of a hasty packing at the end of the year. It took him a while to rescue the cloak from beneath his stack of Transfiguration textbooks.

With his wand in the back pocket of his jeans and his cloak in his arms, Harry headed back downstairs. Before he reached the kitchen, he found the two escaped Leaping Toadstools trying their best to hop up the china cabinet in the dining room. Harry snatched them just before they leaped out of his reach.

Neville sat at the kitchen table, looking embarrassed but altogether recovered from his fainting fit. Dumbledore sat beside him and politely thanked Picksie as she handed him a glass of mead. James still held the bottle, and was filling three more glasses. He smiled at Harry.

“One more for you?”

Harry grinned back. “Sure.”

Lily frowned and took one of the glasses from James. “You’re still fifteen. No.”

“Only for two more weeks.”

“Then maybe in a year and two weeks you can have one.”

Sirius reached for one of the glasses. “James and I drank plenty of firewhisky when we were fifteen. We turned out just fine.”

Lily pursed her lips, like she might argue this point, then the humor in her eyes sharpened as she watched Dumbledore drink. “What’s happened to your hand?”

Dumbledore’s smile was unusual sheepish as he lifted his right hand. His robes slipped and revealed black, decaying flesh, clinging to a bony hand. Neville gasped loudly and Harry’s stomach turned, more violently than it had during the frog dissection. It reminded Harry quite vividly of a dementor’s bony, undead hand, and he guessed by Lily’s pale face, she too, recalled a warm summer night she and Harry had been ambushed by dementors.

“This,” Dumbledore said, “is the result of one of my mistakes. It is quite alright now, though. Severus has seen to it.”

“Would you like me to take a look?” Sirius asked, in a tone that conveyed exactly what he thought of Severus Snape.

“Thank you, but there is no need,” Dumbledore said.

“That’s got to be quite the story,” James said. “I’d like to know which Death Eater did it.”

“It’s a thrilling tale, truly.” Dumbledore took a sip of his mead, and set the empty glass on the table. “I would love to do it its proper justice, but I’ve no desire to keep Harry any later than I need to. The sooner we depart, the sooner we may return. And, if I recall, it is a fair walk to the Apparition Point outside your property.”

“We never lifted the protection charms after Regulus Black escaped Azkaban,” James said. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need for an apology. I think it was a prescient decision, considering the times that have followed. Well, Harry, shall we?”

Harry hastily finished his tea, though it was nearly hot enough to burn his tongue. “Yep.”

“Bye, Harry,” said Neville.

“Be careful,” said Lily.

“And safe,” added James.

“You’ll be with Dumbledore,” Sirius said. “That’s the safest place to be, really.”

“Thanks.” Harry let Lily give him a kiss on the cheek, and hugged both Sirius and James goodbye, before leaving through the kitchen door.

The summer night air was warm and humid. Harry enjoyed walking through his family’s property. Most of his childhood had been spent running through the groves, picnicking by the lake, or flying a broom across the garden. He’d been able to spend some time with his father, and Neville, working in the garden this past week. He liked learning about the different plants his family grew, though sometimes it felt like James was only teaching him because this might be his last chance to do so. It was hard not to think that each time he carefully pruned back the Roaring Roses or weeded the ground around Weeping Willow that this summer could be the last summer they were all together. In just two months, Harry would return to school and his parents would return to the front lines of a war.

“Thank you, Harry, for indulging me in this errand.”

“Er — of course, Professor.” Harry tried to banish his fears of the war, at least for the moment. Sirius was right — there was no safer place to be than with Dumbledore. “Though I’m afraid I don’t know what exactly we’re doing.”

“I’ll explain in a moment. Firstly, I’d like to ask about your scar. Your parents have told me in their letters that it hasn’t hurt. Is that true?”

Harry was startled to realize that Dumbledore thought Harry might have lied to James and Lily. He supposed there was some basis for that, but the assumption sort of hurt.

“It really hasn’t,” Harry said. “Actually, I thought it would hurt more, you know, if Voldemort is getting more powerful.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Interesting. I imagined quite the opposite. You see, Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you.”

Harry thought of how Voldemort had manipulated that very connection against him last year. It had served Harry and the Order in small ways, and saved Arthur Weasley’s life, but in the end, Voldemort had used it to lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries, where several of Harry’s friends and family had nearly died.

“Well, I’m not complaining.” Harry was grateful for the closed connection, and grateful he would no longer feel unusual jolts of pleasure or anger in his History of Magic class that had nothing to do with goblin revolutions.

“No, I can’t imagine you would. I do believe I owe you an apology. I am afraid I asked too much of you when I had Professor Snape teach you Occlumency.”

Harry flushed with embarrassment. His lessons with Snape had culminated with him accidentally letting Voldemort know that Snape loved Lily. It had led to Snape being tortured mercilessly at Voldemort’s hands in an effort to lure Harry to London. “I know I messed up — I put Snape in danger, and I am sorry, really.”

“Professor Snape told me you apologized to him directly. I imagine that was not an easy thing to do.”

“No. I almost didn’t, but it was my fault in the end. It was my fault he was tortured, my fault my parents got hurt, and my friends almost died, and Remus and Sirius are fighting again —” Harry had not meant to spill his problems onto Dumbledore so suddenly, but he had not felt he could share any of this with his parents or Sirius. His guilt was so tangible it hurt to speak aloud, and apologizing did not make it easier, as he had hoped it might.

“Even great men make mistakes.” There was a weight to Dumbledore’s words that stirred something in Harry, like Dumbledore knew the exact guilt Harry felt right now. “Great men make powerful decisions, and they do not always get it right. Asking for forgiveness can be hard, and giving it to ourselves even harder. It is the good, not the great, who can admit their mistakes and seek reparations.”

Harry, eager to turn the conversation away from such emotional currents, searched for a light-hearted joke to diffuse his guilt.

“That sounds like something Uncle Remus would say.”

A faint smile curled in Dumbledore’s beard. “Where do you think Remus learned it from?” But his smile faded away fairly quickly. “I do not mean to reprimand you for what happened between you and Professor Snape. I only meant to apologize for my own failing. I should have taught you Occlumency directly, but I hoped to keep Voldemort from pursuing you by keeping my distance. It was a mistake, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“Yeah — of course. You couldn’t have known I would look in the Pensieve and mess everything up.”

“You are the child of James and Lily. You possess a tremendous curiosity and a sense of justice stronger than most. Do you not recall what happened when I accidentally left you alone with the Pensieve?”

Harry searched for an excuse or counter argument, but he found none. “I — I guess so. I don’t blame you for my terrible Occlumency lessons, Professor. And I know I made a mistake looking in the Pensieve, but — er, I mean, I really shouldn’t have.”

Dumbledore’s smile was knowing. “Information has its uses, no matter how ill obtained. I will not judge you for using what you have learned.”

“I just mean, I don’t know — I’m glad to know Snape loved my mom. It helps me understand why he and my dad don’t get on, and I know he’s the one who told Voldemort the prophecy in the first place, but if him loving her is what made him turn good, then that love is a good thing, right?”

Dumbledore was quiet for a few paces. His eyes were fixed on the horizon in front of them, and Harry noticed he held his wand in his hand, almost as if he were walking into a duel. Finally, he said, “Love may take many forms. It can destroy us or raise us to new heights. What it does, most of all, is change us, and change the world around us. We decide what that change will be. Professor Snape has allowed his love to do as much damage as good. His love for your mother has made him braver than perhaps even he knew he could be. The work he has done for the Order has been incredibly difficult and incredibly valuable. The tasks ahead of him are even harder. But he has let his love for Lily destroy a relationship he could have with James, or with you, or even with your mother. What I mean to say, Harry, is that love alone will not make you good. It will change us, certainly, because love is wild and uncontrollable, but what we do with it will make all the difference.”

Harry, probably better than most wizards, knew how powerful love could be. Love had saved his life more than once. It had shaped his life in incredible ways. From Peter Pettigrew standing between his family and Voldemort, to his parents, rushing to the Department of Mysteries to save him. His entire life was built on love, and that was what gave him power.

Harry decided to make the conscious effort to let his love for his parents drive him to do better and be better, rather than let guilt tear him away from them.

“That makes a lot of sense,” he said.

“I find that true of my words quite often. Ah — we have arrived, it seems.”

They had, indeed, reached the crumbling stone wall that marked the edge of the Potter’s property.

“It was quite the invigorating walk,” Dumbledore said. “And thank you, Harry, for the stimulating conversation. Now it has come time for the short part of our journey. My left side, if you don’t mind.”

Harry took Dumbledore’s left arm and with a pop they Disapparated.

They reappeared in a small town square, not unlike Stinchcombe, which Harry had visited with his family on several occasions. There were some benches and a statue, a memorial of some sort, but Harry did not have much familiarity with Muggle history to know what it was a memorial to. Dumbledore led Harry past a dark inn and a handful of small houses, out of the town center and into a cluster of homes.

“Where are we?” Harry asked.

“We have Apparated into the charming village of Budleigh Babberton.”

“What’s here? You said it was for Hogwarts business, right?”

“Yes. You see, as it has so often happened, I seem to find myself one staff member short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts.”

“What can I do to help with that?”

“I think all I shall need is for you to be yourself — a shining example of what Hogwarts youths have to offer.”

“I’m afraid I’m not a very outstanding student, sir. I’ve had quite a few detentions over the years. You might have wanted to bring Hermione if you wanted a good student.”

Dumbledore searched Harry for a moment, as if checking to see if there was any sincerity in the statement, or if Harry was merely joking. He seemed satisfied with what he saw. “You have your father’s sense of humor, you know. He would have said the same of your mother.”

Harry’s ears burned. “I don’t — I don’t think of Hermione the way my parents —”

This time, Dumbledore actually laughed. “I did not mean to suggest so. I apologize for your discomfort. If I —”

As they rounded a corner, Dumbledore stopped suddenly. Harry nearly stumbled into him, but fell into the gate around the nearest house instead.

“Er — Professor —”

“Wands out, Harry. Follow closely, please.”

Harry looked up and saw what had Dumbledore so spooked. The house they had stopped in front of had clearly been broken into. The door hung off its hinges, and broken glass littered the garden beneath the windows, glittering off the light of the waning moon.

Harry stayed on Dumbledore’s heels as Dumbledore led him up the footpath and into the front door. The house was dark, until Dumbledore lit his wand, casting a pale light around them. The destruction evident outside was just as clear inside.

The grandfather clock in the hallway had fallen over and shattered. Harry stepped over the cracked clock face and followed Dumbledore into the sitting room. A piano had been scattered across the floor; its ivory pieces littered the torn carpet like scraps of parchment. Glass shards glinted in Dumbledore’s wand light. Some of the pieces must have belonged to dishware, but a lot of it seemed to have come from the chandelier that had fallen from the ceiling. Harry looked up to the golden chain still dangling above them and caught sight of thick, dark liquid splashed high on the walls.

Harry gulped.

“Not pretty, is it?” Dumbledore stepped around the chandelier and examined a couch that had been split in two. “Yes, it certainly looks as if something horrible has happened here.”

“Maybe there was a fight?” Harry suggested. “And they dragged him off?” He tried not to think that Dumbledore’s friend might be dead. There was no body, so surely he was alive somewhere.

“I don’t think so.” Dumbledore had moved on from the couch and was now looking at an overturned armchair.

“You mean he’s —?”

“Still here somewhere? Yes.” Dumbledore plunged his wand into the seat of the well-stuffed chair.

“Ouch!” said the chair.

“Good evening, Horace.” Dumbledore stepped back as the chair vanished. It was replaced by a large, bald old man with a thick mustache that reminded Harry of a walrus. He was as stuffed, if not perhaps more stuffed, than the armchair. He rubbed his round stomach and cast an irritated glance at Dumbledore.

“There was no need to stick the wand in that hard,” he grunted. “It hurt.” He adjusted the tie of his thick velvet robe. “What gave me away?” He looked more irritated than embarrassed to have been caught.

“My dear Horace, if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house.”

The wizard grunted again. “Knew there was something… ah well. Wouldn’t have had time anyway. I’d only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room.”

“Would you like my assistance cleaning up?”

“Please.” As he let out a heavy sigh, his large mustache flopped around his face, reminding Harry of a horse or even Hagrid’s very large dog, Fang.

Together, Dumbledore and the man waved their wands. The piano put itself back together, the chandelier returned to the ceiling, and the furniture snapped back to its rightful place. Harry turned and watched the grandfather clock pick itself back up. Rips in curtains, tears in carpet, and cracks in wood stitched themselves back together. The blood on the wall vanished.

“What kind of blood was that, incidentally?” Dumbledore asked.

“On the walls? Dragon. My last bottle, and prices are sky-high at the moment. Still, it might be reusable.” He waved his wand one more time and summoned a tiny bottle. The crystal stopper refracted Dumbledore’s wandlight into tiny rainbows across the ceiling and walls where the blood and just been. The dragonblood moved slowly as he stirred it. “Hm. Bit dusty.” As he set the bottle down, he realized that Dumbledore was not alone. His irritation cleared into wonder, and then sheer excitement as his eyes landed on Harry’s forehead.

Harry was familiar with people staring at the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Their reactions ranged, but wonder and excitement were common. It always made Harry uncomfortable, because he’d never felt like he’d done anything impressive. He’d been an infant when Voldemort gave him that scar. It was his parents and Peter Pettigrew who had done the impressive part.

But Harry had never seen anyone react to his scar with the excitement that this man had. This man was thrilled the way Harry had been thrilled to see a Firebolt in a shop window. This man coveted Harry’s scar. Harry shifted his weight from one foot to another, wishing he could walk away.

Dumbledore, as if he sensed Harry’s discomfort, placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed it gently, not unlike Lily or James would do when introducing Harry to someone who was more entranced by the scar than the young man it was attached to.

“This,” Dumbledore said, “is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn.”

Slughorn’s excitement returned to the sulky petulance Harry had seen on him since they’d began this conversation and he glared at Dumbledore. “So that’s how you thought you’d persuade me, is it? Well, the answer’s no, Albus.”

Now, as he took the crystal bottle of dragon’s blood and returned it to a large trunk, he looked like he was trying very hard to restrain himself. Harry remembered that feeling, knowing he shouldn’t ask for a Firebolt but wanting it anyway. He didn’t understand what it was Horace Slughorn wanted, though.

“I suppose we can have a drink, at least?” Dumbledore asked. “For old time’s sake?”

Slughorn grumbled and closed the trunk. “Alright, one drink.”

Slughorn turned on a tableside oil lamp and Dumbledore lit a fire in the fireplace. He motioned for Harry to take a seat by the fire, and Harry could not help but feel that he was on display. He was the Firebolt in this scenario. Harry now understood why Dumbledore had brought him over Hermione. Hermione was a good student, but Harry was legendary. He didn’t know why that appealed to Slughorn, but it clearly did.

Slughorn poured a honey-colored liquor from a decanter into three crystal glasses. He handed Harry his quickly, like he was afraid to get too close, and once he had given Dumbledore a glass, he sank into the very plush sofa. He took up quite a bit of it, and his short legs did not even reach the floor.

Harry looked at the glass, remembering how only hours earlier his mother had refused to let him drink mead. A combination of a rebellious spirit and simple curiosity encouraged Harry to take a sip. He tried very hard to keep his face still as it burned, and he wondered if this was a glass of Firewhisky or if all alcohol burned this way. He’d tried his mother’s wine once, and he hadn’t cared for that, either. Once the burning cleared, though, he was left with a sweet aftertaste. Wine certainly hadn’t done that. Harry took another sip.

“How have you been keeping, Horace?” asked Dumbledore.

Slughorn grunted. “Not so well. Weak chest. Wheezy. Rheumatism, too. Can’t move like I used to. Well, that’s to be expected. Old age. Fatigue.”

Harry got the sense that Slughorn liked to complain.

“And yet,” Dumbledore said, “you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice. You can’t have had more than three minutes’ warning?”

He continued his complaint, but he looked impressed with himself at Dumbledore’s praise. “Two. Didn’t hear my Intruder Charm go off. I was taking a bath. Still — the fact remains I’m an old man, Albus. A tired old man who’s earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts.”

Comfort, indeed, this house had. Plush chairs, a wide variety of liquor in crystal decanters, books stacked on tables, plush pillows, his velvet bathrobe and the silk pajamas peeking out from beneath it — Slughorn indulged himself without hesitation.

“You’re not yet as old as I am, Horace.”

“Maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself.” Slughorn took another sip of his glass and his eyes fell on Dumbledore’s blackened hand. “Reactions not what they were, I see.”

“You’re quite right.” Dumbledore shook back his sleeve and revealed the damage quite plainly. “I am undoubtedly slower than I was. But, on the other hand….” Dumbledore spread his hands, as if to say that the benefits of his age spoke for themselves. As he swept his uninjured hand towards the fire, Harry noticed Dumbledore wore an unusual ring. The gold band appeared unrefined, as if it had been made by an amateur, and the large black stone set in the band was cracked down the middle. Scratches had been etched in the stone, as if perhaps it had taken several attempts to break through it.

Harry was not the only one who lingered on this ring. He saw that Slughorn was staring very intensely at it, too. Harry got the impression that Slughorn, though a seemingly fussy old man who liked to indulge himself, was incredibly shrewd and observant.

“All these precautions against intruders, Horace,” Dumbledore said, settling his hands on the armrests of his chair once more, “are they for the Death Eaters’ benefit or mine?”

Slughorn tore his eyes away from the ring. “What would the Death Eaters want with a poor, broken-down old buffer like me?”

“I imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture, and murder. Are you really telling me that they haven’t come recruiting yet?”

“Haven’t given them the chance,” Slughorn grumbled. “I’ve been on the move for a year. Never stay in one place more than a week. Move from Muggle house to Muggle house — the owners of this place are on holiday in the Canary Islands — it’s been very pleasant. I’ll be sorry to leave. It’s quite easy once you know how. One simple Freezing Charm on these absurd burglar alarms they use instead of Sneakoscope and make sure the neighbors don’t spot you bringing in the piano.”

“Ingenious, but it sounds rather tiring for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life. But if you were to return to Hogwarts —”

“If you’re going to tell me my life would have been more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but some funny rumors have reached me since Dolores Umbridge left! If that’s how you treat teachers these days —”

“Professor Umbridge ran afoul of the centaur herd. I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the forest and call a crowd of angry centaurs, ‘filthy half-breeds.’”

“That’s what she did, did she? Idiotic woman. Never liked her.”

Harry could not help but laugh. When Dumbledore and Slughorn looked at him, Harry buried his face in his glass. “Sorry —” he coughed when the drink burned “— but I never liked her either.”

Dumbledore stood. “Horace, might I use your bathroom?”

Slughorn looked disappointed Dumbledore had not stood up to leave. “Second on the left, down the hall.”

As Dumbledore left, Slughorn’s gaze fell on Harry. He seemed to take him in for the first time, not simply the scar and his name, and all that came with it, but to truly look at Harry.

“Don’t think I don’t know why he’s brought you.”

Harry, who could not deny Dumbledore’s intentions, was unsure what to say.

“You look very like your father.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah — I’ve heard that.”

“Except for your eyes. You’ve got your mother’s eyes.”

“I’ve heard that, too.”

“How are James and Lily these days?”

“They’re good.” Harry wasn’t sure if he should mention his father had lost an eye and his mother still limited her diet to the most bland of foods.

Slughorn stood and approached the fire, warming first his hands, then turned to warm his behind. “You shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine — Lily, I mean. She was Lily Evans then. One of the brightest I’ve ever taught. Vivacious, charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back, too.”

Harry, whose mother had spent his last five years of school admonishing him to treat his teachers more respectfully, was surprised to learn this. He felt he didn’t need to ask, but he did anyway. “Which was your House?”

“I was Head of Slythern. Oh, now, don’t you go holding that against me. You’ll be like her, I suppose? Gryffindor? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always. Sirius Black, you’ll know, your father’s good friend. His whole family had been in my House, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame — he was a talented boy. I got his brother Regulus, when he came along, but I’d have liked the set.”

Harry knew Sirius and Regulus had gone to opposing houses, but it felt strange to hear a teacher speak so highly of Sirius. Most criticized Sirius’s trouble-making when they talked about Sirius as a student. Slughorn seemed more interested in Sirius’s family and talents than his qualities as a student.

“Your mother, though, excellent witch. Absolutely brilliant. Couldn’t believe she was Muggle-born. I’d thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so talented.”

“One of my best friends is Muggle-born. She’s the best in our year.”

“Funny how that happens sometimes, isn’t it?”

Harry was beginning to like Slughorn less and less and learning he preferred Blacks to Muggle-borns was the last straw. “Not really.”

“Oh —” Slughorn looked surprised by Harry’s tone. “You mustn’t think I’m prejudiced! No, no, no! Haven’t I just said Lily was one of my all time favorite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in the year after her, too — now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of course — another Muggle-born, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!” Slughorn gestured to the piano. Now that it was repaired, it was covered in photographs of people smiling and waving. Slughorn walked over and Harry, unsure what else to do, got up and followed.

“All ex-students, all signed. You’ll notice Baranbas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he’s always interested to hear my take on the day’s news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honydukes — a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back — you’ll see her if you just crane your neck — that’s Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies…. People are always astonished to hear I’m on first-name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!”

Harry listened politely. He did find each of these people impressive in their own way, but it was strange to hear the thrill in Slughorn’s voice as he talked about each of them. He seemed proud of their accomplishments, but he seemed more proud of his connections to accomplished people than having much interest in the people themselves.

“And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?” Harry asked. If the Death Eaters had not been able to track Slughorn down, Harry wondered that Gwenog Jones knew where to send tickets.

Slughorn’s excitement faded. “Of course not. I’ve been out of touch with everybody for a year.” He stroked his thick mustache, considering his own words. After a moment, he shrugged. “The prudent wizard keeps his head down in such times. All very well for Dumbledore to talk, but taking up a post at Hogwarts just now would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix! And while I’m sure they’re very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, I don’t personally fancy the mortality rate —”

Harry could not keep his irritation out of his voice. “You don’t have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts.” His parents and their friends had put themselves at risk not just once, but twice to fight against Voldemort and keep Harry safe. Harry was counting down the days until he could join himself. He had no patience for this man who hid in comfort. “Most of the teacher’s aren’t even in it, and no teacher’s ever been killed — except Quirrell, but he had Voldemort’s soul attached to him.”

Slughorn went very pale and grunted in protest at Harry’s use of the Voldemort’s name. Harry did not care.

“I reckon the staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore’s headmaster; he’s supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn’t he?”

Slughorn’s hand trembled as he stroked his mustache. He still seemed very shaken by Harry’s blunt use of Voldemort’s name, but he did ponder Harry’s words. “It is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore. I suppose one could argue that as I have not joined the Death Eaters, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can hardly count me as a friend… in which case, I might well be safer a little closer to Albus. I cannot pretend that the attack on Amelia Bones did not shake me. If even she, with all her Ministry contacts and protection….”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Amelia Bones was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There really could not have been a better duelist. Her attack had nothing to do with Ministry connections and everything to do with Voldemort’s cruelty. But before he could open his mouth and criticize Slughorn further, Dumbledore returned.

“Well, Harry, we have trespassed upon Horace’s hospitality quite long enough; I think it is time for us to leave.”

Harry eagerly started for the door.

Slughorn, strangely, looked disappointed. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“Lost…?”

Dumbledore retrieved his traveling coat from the chair he had been sitting in and fastened it over his shoulders. “I am sorry you don’t want the job, Horace. Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to.”

“Yes, well — very gracious… as I say….”

“Good-bye then.”

Harry followed Dumbledore to the door, but as Dumbledore’s hand closed around the handle, Slughorn shouted after them.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it!”

Dumbledore turned, eyebrows raised. “You will come out of retirement?”

“Yes, yes. I must be mad, but yes.”

“Wonderful! Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September.”

“Yes, I daresay you will.”

Harry could not decide if he was particularly happy Dumbledore’s errand had succeeded. Though Harry had had a variety of Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, he could not picture Slughorn among them. If anything, he was a bit like Gilderoy Lockhart, who was little more than a fraud, so Lily had replaced him. Harry wondered if he could convince his dad or Sirius to take over for Slughorn.

Just as Harry and Dumbledore reached the garden gate, Slughorn shouted again, “I’ll want a pay rise, Dumbledore!”

Dumbledore laughed and led Harry back through the quaint village of Budleigh Babberton. Once they had Apparated back to the edge of Styncon Garden, Dumbledore said, “Well done, Harry.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, you did. You showed Horace exactly how much he stands to gain by returning to Hogwarts. Did you like him?”

“Er.” Harry was afraid to criticize Dumbledore’s friend. Luckily, Dumbledore did not press him.

“Horace likes his comfort. He also likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys feeling that he influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out, you see. He used to handpick favorites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a kind of club of his favorites with himself at the center, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of his favorite crystalized pineapple or the chance to recommend the next junior member of the Goblin Liaison Office. I tell you all this not to turn you against Horace — or as we must now call him, Professor Slughorn — but to put you on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you, Harry. You would be the jewel of his collection; ‘the Boy Who Lived’ or, as they are calling you these days, ‘the Chosen One.’”

Harry frowned. “Mum and Dad hate that title.”

“You can see why I was hesitant to share with them the details of the errand. Your parents have worked very hard to protect you from people like Slughorn. People who would use you, seek to influence you, simply for their own gain.”

“Not that it matters much now.” Harry kicked at a rock in the dirt path as they walked back to the house. “Every wizard knows what I am —”

“No, Harry. Firstly, your mother would be rightly cross with me if I did not remind you that what you are is very different from who you are, and one of those things matters far more than the other. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, but knowing something was true and feeling it was true were very different things.

“Secondly, the full contents of the prophecy are known only to those whom I have told and you have told.”

“I haven’t told anyone.”

“And wisely so, I should think. What I mean to say, I told your parents and your godfather of the prophecy and they have told you. That is the full extent of how far the prophecy has traveled. What the rest of the world may speculate is only that — speculation.”

“My parents told Uncle Remus.”

Dumbledore did not look surprised to learn this, but he did look thoughtful. “Your parents are brave and exceptionally strong. They have borne this burden for quite some time. It is not an easy thing to be told your unborn child must kill or be killed.”

Harry swallowed down a lump in his throat.

“But your parents have not carried these burdens alone. They have trusted their friends. They have shared their fears during these past years not only with myself, but with Lupin and Sirius as well. I have just said it was wise of you to keep the prophecy and its contents to yourself. It would be remiss to share it haphazardly, and increase the likelihood that the full contents reach the ears of Voldemort. However, like your parents, I recommend you find people you can trust. You cannot bear this burden alone, no matter how brave or strong you are.”

“You mean I should tell Ron, Hermione, and Neville?”

“I simply mean you should rely on friends of your own. As your parents have relied on Lupin and Sirius, you should choose your own support. Only you can decide who that will be. It could even be your parents, and you share the prophecy with no one else. Though, am I right to suspect you have not confided your own concerns about it in them?”

“I — I’m not concerned about the prophecy….”

“Harry, much like your father, you are a supremely terrible liar.”

“I just mean — I talked with Firenze about prophecies last year, before I even knew what the prophecy really was. And what he said made sense — they’re kind of inevitable not just because they were said, but because they just are. I know I’d fight against Voldemort whether it had been prophesied or not. He’s evil, and he hurts people, and I know I wouldn’t do nothing, even if there wasn’t a prophecy. I want to fight, not just because of what he’s done to my family but because he keeps hurting people. Chosen One or not, I want to fight.”

Dumbledore allowed Harry a moment of silence as they walked before prompting, “But?”

“I — I don’t know. It’s like you said, kill or be killed — that’s hard. I don’t want to kill someone, even if it is Voldemort. But I don’t want him to kill me. And I don’t want him to kill people I care about as he tries to kill me. You said I need to rely on people, but maybe it’d be better if I didn’t. Maybe if I just went after Voldemort alone…. Mum and Dad would probably kill me first if I tried that.” Harry laughed, If he had learned anything from his parents, it was that humor could diffuse just about any tension.

Dumbledore’s face, however, remained solemn. “There is no shame in admitting to being frightened. We are brave where we need to be, and it is alright to be afraid when we cannot be brave. It is alright to ask someone to lend us bravery. Your parents love each other dearly, of course, but I believe one of their greatest strengths is the way they lend bravery to each other. You, Harry, need someone you can ask for bravery.”

Harry remembered the few times he had seen his parents’ bravery fail them. Lily, when she had desperately tried to protect Harry from Tom Riddle’s diary, and collapsed against James when it was all over. Or when she had faced a dementor alone for the first time, weighed down with all the fears of Voldemort’s return. James, too, had broken more than once. His brief time in Azkaban, being brave for Remus, had left him shattered. Then, learning that Voldemort had taken and tortured Harry in a graveyard, and having to sit with Harry, alone, while Harry recounted the horrors he and Cedric had faced — James had comforted Harry, but Harry had seen the fear in James’s face, the panic that had not faded until Lily joined him again.

Harry did not have anyone in his life that he trusted the way his parents trusted each other. He had not really considered this a problem. But he remembered how quick Hermione, Ron, and Neville had been to join him in his quest to the Ministry. Ginny, Luna, Cedric, Amber, and Pearl, too, had refused to let him fight alone. Having them with him had made Harry feel brave.

“On a different subject,” Dumbledore said, after a lengthy silence, “it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this coming year.”

Harry looked up at Dumbledore in surprise. “Private — like Occlumency?”

“We will not be doing much Occlumency, as I’m sure you will not be terribly upset by.”

“No, not really. What will we be doing?”

“A little of this, a little of that. I should ask two things of you, though, before we part.”

The house had just come into view, with the kitchen light still on. Harry wondered who was sitting awake at the table, waiting for his safe return. It could have been anyone in his family. He hoped it wasn’t everyone.

Dumbledore slowed his pace and Harry struggled to fall back into step alongside him.

“Firstly, Harry, I do not wish to ask you to keep secrets from your parents. I know the trust you have with them has been hard-earned. I would not ask you to break it. I should warn you, however, they may not be over-pleased by these lessons. You have already mentioned your parents’ distaste at the idea of you as ‘The Chosen One.’ They may not take kindly to the idea that I am providing you with a unique education.”

“Do you mean you’re going to teach me to fight Voldemort?”

“I only mean to ask that you use your best discretion when you speak to your parents about our lessons. I should not like to receive any Howlers from your mother this year.”

“Have you received Howlers from her before?”

“Twice. And secondly, I wish for you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onward. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.” Dumbledore resumed the brisk pace they had begun their journey with and walked Harry to the door of his home.

#harry potter and the half blood prince #harry potter everyone lives #hp everyone lives au #harry potter #hp fic #hbp