#the bullet was already in the air by then. Charlie could have been evil and said that on a CRITICAL FAILURE a 100 oh my god that the worse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heathsbitch · 4 years

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Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

xix. BUSINESS

Ivy's eyes opened to bright sunlight bursting through her window. She shifted in her bed, something was different. Yes, she was in Tommo's house but that wasn't it. The girl scanned the room looking for something. Finn was gone. Her heart dropped but she was glad. She was upset that he had gone but at least she didn't have to speak to him, not after what happened last night. "I think I love you, Ivy." The words rattled around the girl's brain and she couldn't get rid of them. Something caught Ivy's eye. A small piece of paper rested on her bedside table that hadn't been there last night. The girl sat up and picked up the note to read it. In a slanted scrawl it read:

'Thank you for taking care of me last night. I'm sorry if I was acting a bit weird, it was just the Tokyo. - Finn'

A lot of the words were spelt wrong but Ivy smiled at the note. The intention was there. A strange sadness washed over her when she had read the words, 'It was just the Tokyo'. The girl shook her head, trying to be rid of the unusual misery that had come over her. She cast her thoughts aside and got dressed.

Ivy made her way down the grand staircase of Tom and Grace's house and to the dining room. Upon entering the room, she noticed that everyone was down there, waiting for her. Tommo and Grace were talking. John held a cigar in one hand and Esme in the other. Arthur and Linda were talking whilst she showed him the Bible. Polly was reading a newspaper while Ada tried to talk politics with her and Michael and Finn were sat opposite each other doing nothing. When she walked into the room, most people's heads snapped towards her. "Don't worry, Ivy. You're not late at all." Michael sarcastically spat. "It's not her fault. I asked Finn to wake her up but he refused." Tom stood up for the girl. Ivy scanned the table for spare seats. The only ones free were one beside Michael and one beside Finn. She chose the lesser of the two evils and sat next to Finn. When she sat down, she noticed the boy tense up and his hands that had been resting on the table were clenched together. The boy's hair was messy and his eyes drooped but he still managed to make the girl's heart flutter. Especially after what he had said last night. "Morning." Ivy said to her friend, trying to loosen up the tense air between them. "Morning." He grumbled, his voice hoarse. The servants started to bring in breakfast and everybody prepared themselves by putting any books or newspapers away. As Ivy ate, she noticed somebody staring at her from across the table. Their gaze was intense and icy.

Michael.

The girl looked straight at him and raised an eyebrow. "I guess the happy couple aren't so happy anymore." Michael mouthed. Ivy placed her fork on the table and raised her middle finger at the man. She was not in the mood for his teasing. Everybody continued to eat their breakfast as usual and Ivy blocked Michael out as much as she possibly could. When the servants had cleaned everyone's plates up, Tom stood from his chair. "There is some business that needs to be dealt with. I'm busy so John, Arthur, Finn and Ivy will take care of it. You have a meeting with the Changrettas in Charlie's yard at midday. It's to do with Lizzie so be careful with what you say."

Ivy wondered who the Changrettas were and what they had to do with Lizzie. She thought the name sounded familiar but she couldn't find out why. People began to leave the table and Arthur called John and the teens over to discuss the business. "Alright you lot, like Tommy said, you've got to be careful with what you say. These Changrettas are nasty Italian bastards and they're not happy with us. You two," The man turned to Finn and Ivy. "Keep your distance from them, especially you, Ivy."

"Why me?" The girl asked curiously. "'Cause if they see something they like, they will take it." A look of disgust passed over Ivy's face. "Wait, wait, wait. What does an Italian family have to do with Lizzie?" Ivy overcame her disgust and asked the Shelbys."She dates one of the wops. Remember?" John told the girl and patted her shoulder. "Ohh." She said, finally realising where she'd heard the name before. "Are there any more questions before we leave?" Nobody responded to Arthur's question so they all followed him out to the car so they could head back to Small Heath.

Ivy and Finn stood at the entrance to Charlie's yard, checking the Italians that were about to meet with John and Arthur. The first man walked over to the pair. He was fairly young with dark eyes and a chiseled jaw. Finn tensed at the way he was eyeing up Ivy. The girl went to start searching the man but Finn held her back. "I'll do them." He offered. Ivy was confused at his proposition, she hadn't noticed the intense gaze the Italian man had cast upon her. "All of them?" She questioned and Finn nodded. Ivy nodded, not wanting to talk to Finn for too long. She observed the men to make sure they weren't hiding any tricks up their sleeves. There were three men in total, two younger ones and an older man.

During the search of the second man, Isaiah emerged from the other side of the bridge. He walked straight over to speak to Ivy because Finn was busy. "Sorry I'm late. I was with Bella," He told the girl. Her eyebrow perked up at the mention of the girl's name. "No, we didn't before you ask. She said I was too high but she might treat me later." Isaiah nudged Ivy's arm and smiles played on both of their lips. A cough sounded from Finn, signifying that they were ready. The trio led the Changrettas into Charlie's yard to where Arthur and John were waiting.

A small table complete with a tablecloth and pot of tea were waiting for the group, a few chairs dotted around the table. It was insulting, really, but these were the Peaky Blinders so it was to be expected. The Italian men had looks of disgust plastered across their faces at the sight of all the horse manure scattered across the floor. "You asked for a meeting out in the open, fresh air and the fine aroma of shit. 'Neutral ground' you said." Arthur announced to the men.

The trio of teenagers stood off to the side, stern looks on all of their faces. "This is hardly neutral ground." The older Changretta, Vincente, said. "Well, it's what you've got," Arthur told them as he took a seat next to John. "So, por favor, sit down."

A smirk was plastered across John's face as he tried to contain his laughter. "Where is Thomas?" Vincente asked, refusing to sit down. "He got called away." John informed the Changrettas. "He said he'd be here." The man replied instantly, his accent getting seemingly thicker as he spoke."Yeah, he is busy." Arthur added. John began to speak again, anger slowly starting to flow through him again. "And I just told you he got called away. What do you want?" He was lent back in his chair with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The Changretta man got closer to the Shelby brothers and Ivy noticed Isaiah and Finn's hands get closer to their guns. "There has been a peace between the Peaky Blinders and the Changretta family for two years now-"

"Do you want some tea or not?" John interrupted the man. "Here, Finn, pour the Italians some English tea. Go on." The boy was reluctant at first but poured the tea into a small china cup. Ivy scoffed at John and he smirked as a response. "We don't want fucking tea!" Vincente spat, shocking everyone with his sudden outburst of anger. Arthur and John exchanged glances, they were up to something and Ivy wanted to know what. Finn slammed the tea cup back onto the table and walked back to his friends. "We want an explanation." Arthur stood up and reached for the cup of tea that Finn had poured. "Well, I'll have some tea." John spoke up again, "Explanation for what?"

"The Little Venice Restaurant on Forge Street was burnt down-" John interrupted the man again, Vincente's anger was rising in his chest like a burning flame, waiting to come bursting out of his throat. "No. No. Couldn't have been us, we was at a wedding."

"You burnt it down to stop my son being at that same wedding." The Italian spat back almost immediately. "He wasn't missed." Arthur muttered under his breath as he sipped his tea. Chuckles circled the group, everyone except for the Italian trio was laughing. "You are such big boys now. But once you borrowed clothes from us to look like men." The Changretta man told the brothers. "How's the tea, Arthur?" John asked his brother, clearly bored from Vincente's speech. The eldest Shelby threw the tea onto the floor, "It's cold." The man shrugged and John giggled under his breath again. Vincente Changretta took a deep sigh before he spoke again. "Please tell Tommy that we pay him whatever he asks us to pay. We stay out of the city and off the tracks," The man took another few steps, getting closer to the brothers. "But you tell him from me that my son will walk with any woman in this city. Any woman he chooses. Even if that woman works for the emperor, Thomas Shelby. My son is in love-"

John snorted, interrupting the man for the third time during their meeting. 'He's a little asshole' Ivy thought to herself, smirking and shaking her head at the same time. "Sorry. Do excuse me. Carry on." John rubbed his face, trying to stop himself from chuckling. There was a long pause as Vincente tried to contain his anger. "And if he wishes, he will walk with the woman he loves." John rubbed his nose and sniffed, "Okay." He agreed to the Italian's proposition. "You know," John reached for the tea pot and poured some more tea into the cup. "It would be hard for your son to walk anywhere with a bullet in each knee, wouldn't it?" He kept digging a hole, trying to anger the man even more than he had already done. He sipped his tea silently.

"Too much." Mr Changretta warned. Ivy didn't find the man even remotely intimidating and found John's insulting taunts quite hilarious. It was probably down to the fact that Vincente let John's taunts go straight to his head and he had obvious reactions to them.

"You said too much, my friend. Sabini says, 'Suck and swallow'. But no. Too much. I spit." The Italian spat on the floor when he had finished speaking. Ivy looked at her friends, they each shared the same look of confusion. "Bit of a strange analogy." The girl told her friends. The Italians started to leave the yard but one stayed behind. The creepy one with the chiseled jaw picked up one of the wooden chairs and smashed it against the ground repeatedly, shattering it into many pieces. Arthur sighed at his actions, annoyed that he broke a chair. "Fucking hell," He muttered. "Isaiah," Arthur called the teen over to him. "Put two extra men on our pubs in Nechells." Isaiah nodded, agreeing to his actions. "What are you talking about, Arthur? We're not scared of the Eyeties anymore." An annoyed and confused John questioned. "Don't tell Tommy about the chair and clean this fucking shit up." Arthur stood up as he barked his orders at the group. "We're not scared of fucking wops!" John shouted back as his brother walked away. Finn moved to start cleaning up the chair as John slumped back in his chair. "For fuck's sake." He muttered under his breath. He took a deep sigh before standing up and walking up to Ivy. "Ivy, I need your help with something." She looked up at the man, "What do you need?" The Shelby only smirked.

John and Ivy had to stop off at the betting shop for a few minutes so John could speak to Polly. He told the girl that his aunt wanted them to apologise and move on. He said that they weren't going to listen. They didn't want to seem soft. The pair walked down the sullen streets of Birmingham, heading for the tailor shop where they would find their target, Angel Changretta. They stopped outside of the door and John turned to Ivy. "If you're not okay with this then you can stay out here."

"No, no. John, it's fine. Anything I can do to help you." The man threw his arm over the girl's shoulder. "That's my girl." He shook her around a little bit before they walked into the shop. They sneaked in and hid behind a clothes rail. Ivy heard footsteps coming from the staircase. She tapped John's shoulder, signifying that their target was there. He gestured for the girl to go in front of him so she could make the first move. "Just there, sir. There." The tailor told the Italian. Ivy stood up, the clothes rail was luckily taller than her. The suits started to move on the rack, Ivy's heart thumped against her chest. She couldn't afford to mess up. The clothes parted fully, revealing Ivy stood there.

She smiled and greeted the man, "Hey." She thrust her fist forward and it connected with the man's nose. He groaned and stumbled backwards. The other Italian that was there went for Ivy. She dodged him and pushed the man towards John. Angel Changretta had fully recovered and was trying to hit Ivy. She dodged every blow, finally going for one of her own. The girl swung her leg at the man, kicking him into the wall behind him. She held the man against the stairs and repeatedly punched him in the face, blood pouring from his nose. To make sure that he was no longer a threat, she grabbed his shoulders and bashed his head against the banister of the stairs. "Fucking hell, Vee." John said from behind her. The Italian that went for him was on the floor unconscious. "Shit. I didn't mean to... I didn't..." The girl started to freak out. "S'alright." John pulled her into a hug, careful not to get blood on her clothes and she did the same.

The girl screamed, somebody had pulled her to the ground. Her head hit the floor and she looked up to find Angel Changretta over her, his fist about to connect with her jaw. Suddenly, he was pulled back. The girl scooted back to sit against the wall, pain shooting through her skull. She saw John over the man, his hat in his hand. "Are you going to kill me?" The man whimpered. "Get fucking up," John wrestled with the man, eventually pushing him against the floor. "Stay away from Lizzie!" He shouted. John pressed his cap into the man's eyes, screams coming from him. Blood squirted out of the wound in the man's eyes. "By order of the Peaky fucking Blinders!" John finished with the man and stood up. He came over to Ivy. "Are you alright?" John helped the girl up and held her face in his hands. "Yeah." Her voice came out as barely a whisper. The man took one last look over her and led her up the stairs of the tailor shop and back to the car. "You should get some sleep." The girl agreed and closed her eyes, trying to forget the blood on her hands.

Ivy woke to John shaking her small frame. "Tommy said he wants you in today," The girl's eyes fluttered open and she noticed that they were outside the betting shop. She went to climb out of the car but John stopped her. "Wash your hands in the kitchen before you go in." Ivy looked at her hands, blood still covered them. "Okay, thank you." John rubbed her shoulder before she got out. The girl was glad to find out that the door was unlocked. She rushed into the house and straight into the kitchen so she could wash her hands. The girl furiously washed her hands, trying to be as quick as possible. Unbeknownst to the girl, Thomas was standing at the entrance to the betting shop, watching her. She turned around and noticed the man there. She jumped and clutched her heart. "Shit, Tommo. How long have you been there for?" He walked towards the girl and grabbed her hands. "John took you to the Changrettas then?" She nodded, not wanting to say anything more to the Shelby man. He didn't ask anymore questions, which she was grateful for, and he left to go to his office. She let out a deep sigh and finished washing her hands. Ivy was glad to be back at work, though. The girl had a couple of days off because of Tommo's wedding but she was back to stay, at least for a while.

That day was also a Friday, meaning that she was going to stay with her father later that night so she had to try and rush through the majority of her work so she wasn't behind. She was also excited to work in her new office. She had been moved to a slightly nicer room. Unfortunately, it was opposite Michael's but she did her best to ignore the man. Ivy walked to her office, but on her way she heard a noise that instantly perked her ears up. A female giggle. She paused in her place, about to walk into her office. Slowly, she turned around to look at Michael's door. More giggles came from his room. 'He's with the whore. Isn't he?' Ivy asked herself. Since he was being annoying at breakfast, she thought that she would return the favour. The girl walked into her office and grabbed some papers that were already finished and stopped back outside Michael's door. She could see shadows moving around inside and different sounds were coming from the interior, rather than giggles. Ivy was familiar with the sound. It was Michael moaning.

'Perfect' She said to herself, a cynical smirk plastered across her face. Ivy knocked but she didn't wait for a reply. As she walked in, she heard desperate scrambling. The girl decided to play dumb. "I've got some papers for you, Boss." She knew that she would piss him off if she called him that. His face was flushed and clothes were scruffy. "T-thank you, Ivy. You can go now."

He tried to rush her out of the room. She walked closer to the desk and slammed her work on the desk. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?" Ivy asked and tilted her head, her hands placed firmly on the desk. Michael's face dropped, annoyed that Ivy had realised that somebody else was in the room. He pushed his chair backwards but not before zipping his trousers up. He cleared his throat before speaking, "Charlotte, this is Ivy. Ivy, this is Charlotte." A girl with brown hair sheepishly stood up from under the desk, her cheeks a bright shade of crimson. She recognised the girl as the crack whore from Tom's wedding. "It's so nice to meet you properly!" Ivy beamed and stuck her hand out for Charlotte to shake. Charlotte looked lost, she didn't know what to do. She glanced at her hands and they were slick with a mysterious substance. Ivy knew full well what it was. The Solomons grabbed the girl's hand and shook it firmly. Michael's face was one of anger and confusion. When the girls pulled away, there was a string of the mysterious substance. Ivy didn't look at it but she knew it was there. "Well, sir, I'll be in my office should you need me."

The girl went to leave but stopped at the door because Michael called out to her. "I'll be having words with you later." He warned. "Yes, Boss." Luckily, Charlotte had her back to Ivy. The Solomons finally looked at her hand then showed it to Michael. She winked and licked the substance off of her hand then left the room, closing the door behind her. "Prick." She muttered as she walked into her own office, cleaning the rest of her hand. Her work was interrupted fairly soon after she sat down, though. Thomas burst into the room, demanding that she come with him. They walked towards the kitchen. Ivy saw Finn coming out of it after something Arthur had said. "Finn, you can stay." Tom told him as him and Ivy walked in. The boy smirked and went back into the room.

"Tommo, this is a family meeting. I shouldn't be here." Ivy spoke up after realising the other people in the room. "Stay. This involves you." Tom told her and she stayed still, curious at what he was going to say. The girl noticed from the corner of her eye that Finn was staring at her. The smirk had fallen off of his face and he looked sad. His eyes were puffy, probably from crying. Ivy's heart dropped. Things were still awkward between them but she hated seeing her friends upset. "Sit down, John. You too, Ivy," Thomas ordered. Both of them followed his instruction. Tom took a long pause before speaking again "You two cut Angel Changretta,"

Nausea filled Ivy, if she had known that she was going against Tom's orders, she probably wouldn't have gone along with it.

"Even though Arthur told you to apologise. Polly told you to compromise. You chose not to listen to Mr Apologise or Mrs Compromise. Ivy I can understand that you were just following orders but show more initiative next time, eh?" The girl kept her eyes trained on the ground, too ashamed to make eye contact. She was already regretting what she did, regardless of whether she went against Tommo. "Now I've got an Italian walking around my backyard saying he's going to kill my brother and Alfie Solomons' daughter. So what do we do, eh? Should we apologise or do we compromise?" Ivy thought that the adult should answer since her word counts for very little. John let out a long breath but didn't respond. Silence filled the room. "Oh, it was just something John said as a joke." Arthur tried to defend the pair but kept his voice low. "Yeah but he's your brother as well, Arthur and Ivy is pretty much your sister." Thomas kept his own voice low. "Yeah," Arthur simply responded. "I know I didn't want to start a war over something John said without meaning it." Tommo grunted and spoke again. "So, should he apologise in Italian or in English?" The question confused both Ivy and John, they both looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed."Or should we ask them which fucking language they prefer? I'm not clear." Polly put her hand on Arthur's arm and took a chance to speak. "You said while this business was going on in London, you wanted peace at home."

"And the only way to guarantee peace is by making the prospect of war seem hopeless. If you apologise once, you do it again and again and again. Like taking bricks out of the wall of your fucking house. Do you want to bring the house down, Arthur?" Silence filled the room yet again. Arthur let out a low grunt. "If you're soft on rebellion, it'll grow." Thomas continued. Arthur stood up from his chair. "Bloody 'soft on rebellion'." He repeated. "You did the right thing. Ivy and John. Now we go on the offensive. We take two of the Changretta pubs, and we take them tonight. That's it. Ivy, I'm taking you to your father. I don't want you anywhere near this." Ivy was shocked at Tom's words. He had just seemed so mad that they attacked Angel Changretta and then he was completely fine with it. 'He's more unpredictable than my father.' Ivy told herself.

"Oh! Right. For Christ's sake, why?" Polly shouted at her nephew. "Eh?" Thomas had walked away but stopped in his tracks. "Why?" Polly repeated. Tom marched back over to the group. "Why? Because we fucking can. Because we fucking can and if we can, we do. And if we lift our heel off their necks now, they'll just come at us! Remember these are the bastards that wanted Danny Whizz-Bang dead," The group was silent once more as they waited for Tom to speak again. "You're getting soft, brother. Soft and weak. Save the Bible for Sundays, eh? Finn, I need you to take Ivy to her father's, get to Hockley and then home. It's been a long day." The boy walked out of the door without a word, Ivy and Tommo followed behind. Tom turned around to give one final order. "You take the Wrexham, you take the Five Bells. You get them signed over to us in the morning. You make sure the coppers stay away. Don't use the fucking phones, alright? There's someone listening." The trio climbed into the car that was parked outside the betting den. Finn and Tom were in the front and Ivy was in the back. "Ivy, if you're father's mad that you're late, just tell him you were doing business with me." Tommo told her as they began their journey to Camden Town. "Okay." The girl squeaked out.

The journey was quick and quiet. Thomas definitely felt the tension between the two teens but didn't say anything about it. When they stopped at Alfie's house, Ivy got out silently. She didn't say a word to either Tom or Finn. She wasn't in the mood to see her father but she had to go. The girl timidly raised her hand to knock on the door to her Father's house. She took a quick glance at her small wrist watch to see that it was almost seven o'clock in the evening. She was almost eight hours late. The inside of the house was dark, only the silhouette of her father could be seen. "You're late." He grumbled. "I'm sorry, dad. Tommo and I were finishing up some business and-"

"Business? Business with Tommy fucking Shelby! Get in," He dragged the girl into the house by the collar of her shirt. Alfie pushed his daughter into what she assumed was the living room. There was one lonesome lamp in the corner. Shadows crept up the walls like demons searching for prey. Shards of glass lay scattered across the floor. 'What happened here? Had he been drinking?' Ivy asked herself but she was too scared to speak, too scared to move."Do you know how worried I was? You drove me out of my fucking mind! He could have got you killed, he could have..." His words trailed off as he noticed the splatters of blood that rested on his daughter's skirt. "What's this? Did he do this?"

"Dad, I-" Ivy tried to speak but her father was louder. "Fucking gypsy bastard. I told you he couldn't keep you safe. You are staying with me, yeah?. I'm not letting you go back to that Brummie scum ever again." The man got closer to the girl and spat his words in her face. His hands were back on the collar of her shirt and Ivy almost struggled to breath, the fear stealing all of the oxygen out of her lungs. "Dad, I-" She tried to speak again but her father cut her off. Instead of using his words, he used his hand. Alfie slapped Ivy, his hand came sharply across the girl's cheek. She let out a large squeal and dropped to the floor, clutching her face. "What have I fucking told you?" He pulled the girl's hair then threw her back to the ground. Ivy was too scared to look back at her father so she just stared at the floor, small whimpers lept from her mouth. "Get to bed. Go!" He shouted. She jumped onto her feet and sprinted to her room. The girl was tempted to make a break for the door but she knew that this time her father would chase after her and catch her. Ivy ran up the stairs and to her room. She slammed the door and collapsed on her bed. Sobs racked her body. The girl had never wanted to be back in Birmingham so much. She wanted the Shelbys back, wanted their protection, their warmth back. But most of all, she wanted Finn back. Cries and whines shook the girl's body, hot tears streamed down her face. In that moment she realised something.

'I love Finn.'

xx. THE TURNING POINT

MASTERLIST

#finn shelby #harry kirton #michael gray #finn cole #smut #fluff #angst #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #treat you better

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sirius · 6 years

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Chaos Theory Part 6

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, others.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 5641

A/N: I finished this in one! day! can you believe it?? Anyway, some things worth mentioning: a) after this chapter, things are going to start progressing quickly through the months. So far its sort of been day by day but this story has to span over three years so...yeah. I can’t drag it on for too long b) I’m going away for a week so I’m not sure when part seven will be released c) i have redesigned my masterlist! check it out in my description and, finally, d) shawn mendes will be my new cedric for my gif headers! not important but at the same time really important. Anyway, I’ll shut up now. Here.

Chapter Six:

Everyone has secrets to hide

The carriage ride up to Hogwarts is silent, tense and almost insufferable.

Ron’s barely spoken a word since his encounter with Draco, and though you weren’t present, you can only imagine how it went down. His mouth is twisted into a thin frown as he fixes a glare on the floor of the carriage, body rigid with frustration. A dark red flush singes the tips of his ears, a result of his sour mood that simmers beneath his skin.

Hermione keeps eying you with a calculating look, as though she’s dissecting your thoughts and body language and tagging each movement carefully. Her lips are pressed together in a thin line like she’s taming her words back into her throat and is silently forcing them into that spot beneath her sternum where all her other secrets lay hidden. She keeps fiddling with the hem of her robes, weaving the fabric between her fingers to stifle her nervous twitch.

Harry stares out the window, watching the rain and refusing to meet your eye in some sort of silent protest against you. He’s hard to read when he’s like this; silent and solemn and withdrawn into those deep, dark crevices in his mind. You think about reaching out and covering his hand with yours but think better of it.

Guilt plucks your ribs. You should never have left them.

It feels stupid, starting the school year like this. As a group, you’ve been through worse things. You’ve all faced bigger enemies and worse life-threatening circumstances. Why should a couple of secrets stand in the way of a friendship that has endured so much danger?

“So, what were you guys talking about before I arrived?” You ask, curiously glancing between Ron, Hermione and Harry. Harry bristles ever so slightly.

“We were just speculating about what Charlie and Bill were banging on about earlier,” Ron replies, hastily.

“Draco mentioned something too,” Harry snips, his voice clipped and cold.

“Something is supposed to be happening?” You ask, and Harry shrugs.

“I wish they’d just tell us already,” Ron whined, “I’ve had it with all this secrecy. Just spit it out already.”

“We’ll probably find out tonight,” Hermione deduces, and the carriage sinks into silence again.

Lightning forks across the sky, flooding the carriage with white light before evaporating in an instant. Raindrops feel like bullets pounding on the roof, trying to get inside.

“I can’t wait to eat,” you blurt, cradling your stomach, “The welcoming feast is all I’ve been thinking about...”

“Oh yes,” Hermione agrees, the beginning of a smile tickling her lips, “and I can’t wait to watch the Sorting Ceremony!”

“Welcoming the first years,” you smile fondly, “Merlin, remember our first year?”

“How could I forget?” Hermione sighs, “That was the year we first learned Wingardium Leviosa!”

“So you’re not going to mention the fact that our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was a fraud with You Know Who attached to his head like some sort of evil fungus?” Ron snaps, coldly.

Hermione narrows her eyes and speaks carefully, composedly, “Well, yes, I thought that was fairly obvious though-”

“Aw, remember Norbert?” you interject, hurriedly, “Remember watching him hatch?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, distantly, “Remember how hard it was to smuggle him out of Hogwarts?”

“Ooh and you impersonated the Bloody Baron to keep Peeves off our tracks? That was so clever...”

You catch a hint of a smile ghosting across Harry’s face, though it’s obscured by the low light, “We still got in trouble, though,”

“It was worth it,” you say, thinking back to Hagrid's concerned face, “I can’t imagine what sort of trouble Hagrid would have gotten into if he was discovered. And Norbert was such a cute, little baby...”

“That ‘cute little baby’ nearly killed me,” Ron snaps, fingers grazing the scar on his hand.

Hermione scoffs, “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Uh, no, not really,” Ron barks, indignantly, “Unless you forgot about the part where I was in the Hospital Wing for weeks after that thing poisoned me with its tiny, little devil fangs.”

“Ron, he bit you out of self-defence.”

“Well maybe if Hagrid were more strict-“

“-Don’t blame Hagrid for your own stupidity-“

“-Oh, so now I’m stupid?”

“-Well, only a fool would try to feed a dragon at night.”

“We’re nearly there!” You exclaim, deliberately raising your voice over Ron and Hermione’s argument. You point out of the window to the Hogwarts castle, using it as a distraction from the knot tugging in your stomach.

A heavy silence looms over the carriage again. Ron and Hermione have turned away from each other, both of them stubbornly staring out of the window. You glance at Harry who glances back at you uneasily, and though it’s only a brief exchange, a shimmer of hope bursts inside of you.

Harry looks away, unaware of your hovering fingers that draw closer to his hand, reluctant to touch the skin of his knuckles. Before you can make contact, the carriage rolls to a stop and, to your regret and dismay, the opportunity passes.

The carriage doors fly open, and Ron and Hermione slip out wordlessly. Harry gives you a side glance before climbing out himself. You follow his lead and quicken your pace to catch up with him and Ron. The four of you bow your heads to avoid the rain and climb up the flight of steps hastily. By the time you reach the great, oak doors, you are completely soaked and shivering against the cool air.

The doors swing open and you all pile into the entrance hall, dripping wet as you slip and slide across the floor. The doors close shut behind you as you crowd around the entrance hall, waiting for Professor McGonagall.

“Hey, (Y/N),” says a meek voice from behind you and Neville Longbottom’s shy, dimpled face comes into view, “How were your holidays?”

“Hi, Neville,” you beam, “They were...eventful. Thanks for asking. How were yours?”

Neville glances at his feet, “The opposite, actually. I had to help Nan with her bunions. They’re the size of golf balls and the only thing that helps shrink them is this cream made from mandrake puss and garden-knome salvia. Then I had to poke a hole in her bunions and–oh my god, why am I telling you this?”

Neville smacks his forehead with such a loud slap, it nearly startles you. He winces and rubs the red mark emerging right in the middle of his forehead, “You probably don’t want to hear that.”

You chuckle at his bashful expression and loop your arm through his, “It’s okay. But before I forget, I should thank you for sending me your Herbology book. It worked miracles.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he murmurs, fumbling with his robes, “Just helping a friend in need.”

“Well it certainly helped me, big time,” you say, giving him an encouraging smile, “I’m absolutely rubbish at Herbology but that book really helped me with my essay. I have it in my trunk so when we get back to the castle, I’ll give it back to you.”

“Nah, you can have it,” Neville shrugs, not meeting your eye, “I mean, if you want it, that is..”

You consider him fondly in the low light, clamping your bottom lip between your teeth thoughtfully. Neville glances at his feet, ducking his chin to hide his blush.

“That’s very generous of you…thank you.”

Neville shrugs again, all sweet and bashful, an adorable, pink flush rising up his neck.

“So,” Neville starts, scratching the back of his neck, “How come you weren’t with Harry today, in the compartment? I missed you...”

“Oh, I was sitting with...another friend,” as you say it, a thought pops into your head and you perk up a little straighter, “Hey do you know anything about Noah Underwood?”

Neville’s brows furrow in thought, “Not really. He’s in Slytherin and he’s a muggle-born. Oh, and he hangs around the greenhouses a lot.”

“He does?” You ask and Neville nods. You beam at him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug, “Thank you so much!”

Neville freezes at first, but his shock fades as he hugs you back, “No-No problem.”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” A familiar voice calls out to you from behind and you turn, finding Harper Shacklebolt charging toward you. The editor and chief of The Howler looks harried but determined and strikingly beautiful as she shoves a sixth-year Ravenclaw aside to reach you. Her braids are pulled back into a bun worthy of McGonagall’s praise, and she has the kind of fierce passion in her dark eyes that could strike fear in the hearts of all the boys around her.

“Hi Harper,” You smile, untangling yourself from around Neville’s shoulders “How were your holidays?”

Harper nods dismissively, “They were fine. Listen, we’re having a meeting this evening after the welcoming feast in the Newsroom. Be there at eight thirty. There will be a few announcements and new members joining us.”

You nod and wave as she charges off, slipping into a second-year Hufflepuff as she leaves.

Beside you, Ron and Harry are engaged in a whispered conversation. You try to lean into the conversation, easing yourself closer slowly, slowly, slowly...

And then you’re slipping.

Harry catches you before you can hit the ground, his hands flying to your waist and holding you close. You’re close enough to feel his heart hammering in his chest, sending shockwaves down your spine. Harry tears his hands away from you a second too late. Beside you, Ron snorts a laugh and reaches over to pat your head affectionately.

“Sorry, (Y/N),” Neville splutters, blushing furious shades of red, “I–er–I didn’t mean to bump into you– I’m such an idiot–”

“No it’s okay,” you breathe, voice trembling as the warmth from Harry’s touch ghosts over your waist, heating your skin beneath your clothes. Neville opens his mouth to apologise more but he doesn’t get the chance.

Professor McGonagall dashes our of the Great Hall, nearly colliding with a student.

“Well hurry up you lot,” She snaps, ironing her hands down the front of her robes as she composes herself, “The Sorting Ceremony will begin in ten minutes time and we have a very important announcement to make!”

***

The Howler’s Newsroom is alive with excitement.

Seven loyal and dedicated members of the weekly newsletter crowd around, chatting animatedly about the exciting announcement. It’s wonderful being back and seeing all the friendly faces that you have known since you joined last year. You watch them all with mild interest.

Anthony ‘Ant’ Goldstein, comic artist for the newsletter, hovers near the door looking exasperated as he listens to an excitable Colin Creevey, a new member to the team.

Standing next to Harper is Daisy Tate, a Slytherin in Harper’s year and also Head Photographer. She seems to be staring down at something, her stoic expression as bland as ever.

Next to Daisy stands Troy Hammond, the Head Artist, who always has acrylic paint under his nails and a paintbrush tucked behind his ear. Troy has always been a kind and gentle person, always willing to sit and listen if you ever have problems, and he often finds himself doing so a lot. He also happens to be one of Cedric’s best friends...

Go figure

The last two members of the team are actually sitting on either side of you; Padma Patil, a Writer like yourself, and Dean Thomas, an artist. As you and Padma murmur excitedly, Dean sketches a quick portrait of you and Padma, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips as he concentrates.

“So that’s what all the fuss was about,” Padma’s eyes shimmer as her smile grows, “A Triwizard Tournament! How exciting!”

“I know!” You grin, twirling your quill in your hand, “My mum always used to tell stories to Luke and I when we were kids. Never thought it would happen though it’s a shame about Quidditch.”

“Yes, terribly,” Padma muses, but her smile reappears, “We’re going to have so much to write about this year in the Howler!”

“Indeed,” Harper says, and everyone falls silent at the sound of her voice, “Which is precisely what this meeting will be about. Before I continue, though, we will be introducing some new members to our team.”

Harper strides toward the door and pulls it open, and Juniper Cross enters. The Hufflepuff head girl looks startlingly beautiful with yellow flowers pinned to her thick Afro and a radiant smile drawn across her face. You hear the whole room exhale a breath of admiration in her presence.

“She always looks so lovely,” Padma whispers, equal parts in awe and envy of Juniper, “I think she uses that special antioxidant cream every night.”

You bite your lip as Juniper grins, standing next to Harper.

“Ah I’m so excited to be joining the team,” Juniper cheers, voice kind and sweet as honey, “I can’t wait to get to work with you all!”

“Don’t you have Head Girl duties or something?” Anthony blurts, and Harper shoots him a glare.

Juniper smiles gracefully, “Yes. But my role in this team will not be as predominant as the rest of you. With both Professor McGonagall blessing, I will be Head of the Astrology section of the newsletter.”

“Astrology section?” Anthony’s brows furrow, “Isn’t that just staring into a tea cup and hoping for the best?”

To everyone’s surprise, Juniper actually laughs.

“Don’t worry, at first I had my doubts about Astrology but then I discovered that some people have the gift, while others...” she trails off, looking pointedly at Ant, “...Don’t. I find that it’s those who don’t have the gift that are sceptical, possibly because they’ve come to the realisation that Astrology chooses you, you don’t choose it.”

Ant quietens at that, having taken Junipers point seriously.

“Since we are on the subject of those with the gift,” Harper pipes up, stepping forward, “We also have two astrologers who will be joining the team.”

You are surprised for a second time in five minutes as you watch Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil enter the room. Parvati meets your eyes and waves excitedly. You grin back at her and Padma gives her a thumbs up. As Lavender and Parvati introduce themselves, you lean into Padma.

“I didn’t know Parvati and Lavender were joining the team,” you whisper and Padma stifles a giggle.

“It was a secret,” Padma murmurs back, “Sorry I didn’t indulge you.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“Thank you Lavender, Parvati,” Harper nods to both of them and they flinch as though she had narrowed a wand at them, “Now, our final member of the team will be joining the Photography department, so please welcome –”

Your eyes travel from Harper to the figure standing in the doorway, and with a slight shock, you realise exactly who the newest member of the team is...

“– Noah Underwood.”

Anger you didn’t realise you had flares inside of you, prior feelings of pity vanishing completely. How could someone possibly encroach on your privacy and then throw you into a week of emotional turmoil by sending a strange letter to you? The past week of conflicting emotions is a direct result of him and his stupid camera. Your fingers curl into fists beneath the table.

“Noah Underwood?” Padma hisses, eying him shrewdly, “The loner from Slytherin? What is Harper thinking?”

“Apparently, he’s a good photographer,” you snip, thinking back to the picture sitting in your pocket, and you can’t even hide the frustration from your voice as you study him closely.

The first thing you notice about him is how confusingly, annoyingly attractive he is, despite being freakishly tall and gangly, which is perhaps the reason why he slouches. He’s still wearing that black beanie that he hasn’t taken off his head since he first came to Hogwarts, and peaking out from beneath it are thick curls of raven-black hair. He’s also not wearing his Slytherin robes, which you find odd, but Noah is odd anyway so you figure it fits. Over the top of a black v-neck, Noah is wearing a leather aviator jacket that is a size too big for him, and black jeans.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Dean whispers, “I’m glad Colin won’t be the only photographer on the team. It’s bad enough having to share a common room with him.”

Padma giggles into her elbow, and Harper’s eyes snap straight to her, drilling her with a glare. Padma coils submissively.

“Introduce yourself, Noah,” Harper orders, and Noah shrugs.

“I’m Noah,” he says, apathetically, his hands jammed into his pockets, “And I like photography more than I like people.”

There is a beat of silence, everyone slightly stunned by Noah’s blunt remark. Harper thoughtfully fiddles with the gold locket hanging from her neck.

“Good,” Harper nods, approvingly, “We’re not here to be friends, we’re here to work so you should fit right in.”

“Except fitting in isn’t really his ‘thing’,” Padma murmurs, and Dean snorts beside you.

“Alright, everyone take a seat,” Harper barks, and everyone rushes to their seats, “Our meeting will now begin.”

***

Noah is out of the door before you even get a chance to talk to him.

You feel rude as you give hurried apologies to your friends and shoulder past them, rushing for the door. To your surprise, he’s riding a skateboard down the corridor. It looks..strange, like it shouldn’t belong here (It doesn’t, but thats not the point.)

“Noah,” you call, and he skids to a stop, stepping off his skateboard and turning to face you as you approach him in long strides, “I’m (Y/N) And–”

“-I know who you are,” Noah interrupts, studying you intently.

“Right. Anyway, I need your help with something.”

Noah cocks an eyebrow in mild interest as you reach into your pockets and retrieve the photo, thrusting it into his grasp with slightly trembling hands.

“You took this photo, and I want to know why.”

Noah studies it, his face a mask of apathy, completely unreadable despite your best efforts. As his eyes move across the picture, you can’t help but notice how unnervingly dark they are. In fact, his eyes are so dark, you can’t tell where his irises end and his pupils begin. They’re the kind of dark that makes you wonder how many souls he’s absorbed, and the way they glint in the light suggests he’s probably lost count.

Finally, he sniffs and hands it back to you.

“I don’t know what this is,” Noah finally snips, his voice a lot deeper than you remember, “It’s not one of mine. I wasn’t at the Quidditch World Cup.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, sternly, folding your arms across your chest.

“I don’t care if you believe me. I wasn’t there.”

You glare at him, fists clenching the inside of your robes. He is a blank slate, not even an inch of emotion flicking across his face despite the fact that you’re accusing him of something he may or may not have done. You try to even your emotions, trying to keeping your face a calm and composed canvas.

“If you weren’t there, then why was this photo identified as one of yours?” You ask, jutting your chin at the photo in his hands.

“Who identified it?” Noah queries, and you press your lips together tightly.

“A source.”

Noah scoffs, indignantly, “Well, whoever they are, they’re wrong,” Noah sighs, handing you the photo, “My muggle camera went missing and, like I already told you, I wasn’t at the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Well, where were you?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Does it matter?”

Noah gives a derisive snort, “Yes. It does. To me, the person you’re accusing of stalking. So if you don’t have any hard evidence, I’m going to go back to my common room.”

“Why? So you can retreat into your room and sulk?” You snap, hands resting on your hips.

There is a moment where it looks as though Noah is going to smile. Instead, he shakes his head.

“Yeah. That’s right. Because that’s what I do when people stereotype me as the weird, lonely photographer who obsesses over pretty girls...”

You exhale a shaky sigh as you realise that he’s right. It was wrong for you to allow your pent-up emotions to overwhelm you. You roll your shoulders, relaxing into your robes.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry, that was wrong,” you murmur, glancing at your feet, “You said that your camera went missing. When did you first notice it was gone?”

“At the end of last year,” Noah answers, folding his arms over his chest, “Someone must have pinched it on the train back to Platform 9 3/4. I've printed out fliers and I’m on my way to Professor Snape right now to inform him.”

You nod carefully, taking mental notes. It’s hard to tell if he’s lying, having such a perfectly trained expression.

“Okay. Thanks, I guess,” you murmur, folding the photo and slipping it into your pocket. Noah shrugs, dropping his skateboard, and you turn, starting back toward the Newsroom.

“Oh, and (Y/N),” Noah calls and you pause, “You wanted to know where I was on the day of the World Cup?”

You spin around and face him, mildly interested as you nod. Moonlight pours through the glass-stained windows and soak him in a ghostly silhouette, like a dark angel standing in the corridor.

“I was in London, visiting my sisters grave,” He murmurs, coldly, regret bleeding into his words like scarlet-red blood.

He quickly turns away and rides off before you can say another word, leaving you speechless, guilt climbing into your gut and curling up there like a beast.

***

“So, how was the meeting?”

Hermione sits crossed-legged on her bed, running her fingers through Crookshanks fur.

“Don’t tell anyone yet but we have a new Astrology section making its debut next week,” You say, as Nightshade curls up at your side. You smirk at Hermione’s exasperated scowl.

“I thought Harper Shacklebolt was more dignified and logical than that,” Hermione snips, agitated by the new discovery, “It doesn’t matter, I still admire her. Anything else?”

“Well, we also have new members,” you start, reaching into your bedside table and grabbing a small handful of cat treats for Nightshade, “One of them is Noah Underwood.”

Hermione gasps, “Really? Merlin. Did you-“

“-Already one step ahead of you,” you giggle as Nightshade begins to nibble her treats from your cupped palm. Her tongue is slightly serrated, and it tickles as she scrapes it along your soft skin, “Noah wasn’t even at the World Cup, he was visiting his sisters grave on the day which made me feel bloody terrible for drilling him as though he were a criminal. But he’s still a suspect.”

Hermione stands and pins his name to your pinboard, her brows knitted together in contemplation as she studies the board.

“So he has an alibi,” she sighs, as Crookshanks curls himself around her leg, “Did he say anything else?”

“Well, he told me that his muggle camera went missing on the way home from Hogwarts,” you recall, standing and meeting Hermione in front of the board. You scribble ‘Missing Camera’ onto a piece of paper and pin it beneath his name, “So either someone stole it or he’s lying.”

“Well, do you think he’s lying about his alibi?” Hermione asks, glancing at you thoughtfully.

You cock your head as you study each letter of his name, mulling Hermione’s words over, before murmuring, “I don’t trust him, but I don’t think he’s lying.”

Hermione nods, satisfied with your response. You both stare at the pin board for a moment longer, lost in your thoughts. The sound of girlish giggling sounds from behind your closed door, sweeping up the dormitory staircase like a sickly-sweet breeze, and you approach the board.

“A mouse does not trust a hungry snake,” you murmur in Latin, pressing your wand to the board and watching as the pinboard vanished into the wall. Hermione glances at you, impressed.

“Nice charm work,” she smiles.

“Thanks,” you chirp, “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs gave me the idea.”

Hermione opens her mouth to comment further, but Lavender and Parvati burst in before she can.

“(Y/N),” Lavender manages through giggles, “You have a visitor.”

Parvati giggles and whispers something to Lavender, which provokes girlish laughter to bubble from Lavenders lips.

“Okay,” you sigh, and Hermione gives you a pleading look. You smile at her apologetically, “Thanks, Lavender.”

Your curiosity piqued, you give Nightshade a final pat and leave your room, descending the staircase and entering the common room. Neville and Ginny smile at you from their game of Wizard Chess as you pass, and you flash them a smile.

“Where are you off too so late at night?” Ginny asks, a single brow raised teasingly.

“Someone is waiting for me outside,” you reply, grinning at her expression as the portrait door swings open, “It’s probably just some weirdo-“

You stop mid-sentence, a burning blush creeping up your neck.

“Hi, (Y/N).”

Cedric Diggory’s perfect smile beams at you, eyes shimmering, hands lazily wedged into his pockets.

“Oh, Cedric, H-hi,” You splutter, stupidly, feeling like a bitch for the second time tonight, “I didn’t mean what I - I mean - I don’t think you’re a-”

“- A weirdo?” Cedric mimics, his smile stretching into a grin, “I know. I probably am a weirdo for visiting so late in the evening but...I wanted to see you.”

“Me too,” you smile, your heart clumsy and foolish and swelling in your chest, “I mean, I wanted to see you as well...”

Cedric laughs, and the sound plucks every single heart string in your chest as though it were an instrument designed just for him.

“I’m glad,” he reaches over and tentatively takes your hand, “I want to show you something.”

You bite your lip, chewing your nerves away, fingers intertwining with his and soaking in the warmth of his skin.

“Well, go on girl,” the Fat Lady snaps from behind you, “Before I figure out a way to leave this painting and take off with such a charming, young man.”

A gentle, romantic shade of pink kisses Cedric’s cheek, “I appreciate the compliment, Ma’am, but I could never betray the trust of the beautiful girl I’ve come to like...” he gazes pointedly at you. You twirl a ribbon of hair around your finger, hoping your cheeks are not as red as they feel.

“Such a gentleman,” you hear the Fat Lady swoon from behind you as Cedric leads you into the night.

***

The Prefects Bathroom looks as though it’s been stolen from a romance novel and pinned in front of your eyes.

Floating candles hover in the air, scenting the bathroom with a subtle fragrance that changes the more you breathe in. It’s like Cedric’s bottled a cauldron of Amortentia and poured it into each, individual candle.

Rose petals have been sprinkled artistically across the floor, creating a trail that leads to a chocolate fondue machine and a large bowl of fruit and marshmallows. There is a bottle of what you can only assume is sparkling cherry-apple juice, a sweet delicacy enjoyed only by the richest of wizards and witches, and a personal favourite of yours (how did he know? Could he get any more perfect, the bastard).

Your eyes are drawn to the most touching feature in the room; An elegant bouquet of fire lilies. It’s a memento from your and Cedric’s past, a personal touch that has your heart swelling, overflowing the confines of your ribcage like a bubbling love potion inside the cauldron in your chest.

You bite your lip and inhale the sweet scents, releasing a sigh of satisfaction as you store the moment deep inside your lungs like a Polaroid picture.

“Wow” You finally sigh, reduced to moonstruck awe and admiration of Cedric’s dedication, “You really went all out didn’t you?”

Cedric regards you warmly, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic. Besides, I wanted to give you the best, that’s what you deserve.”

Cedric tugs his bottom lip between his teeth like he’s blurted too much, and your cheeks ache as your smile widens on its own accord.

“So...” you trail off, stepping closer to him and teasing him with a smirk, “Did you fancy a late night skinny dip?”

Cedric snorts a laugh, watching you with glittering eyes, “Not exactly.”

You grin wickedly at him, maintaining eye contact as you carefully peel back your robes, “Well I do.”

A rosy blush blossoms on Cedric’s cheeks, “Oh, I-I guess this is happening, then.”

You laugh as you whirl around, your back to his chest, “Do you mind unzipping my skirt?”

“Not at all,” he murmurs, voice warm and low in your ear, and a shiver drips languidly from each vertebra in your spine like long, amber strands of honey. He fiddles clumsily with the zip before finally triumphing and tugging on it gently. Once the zip is undone, he steps away and turns around, giving you privacy as you strip down to your underwear and climb into the large, golden bath.

You sigh and close your eyes as the warm water soaks into your skin, rejuvenating your muscles. The water shifts and ripples around you and you open your eyes, finding Cedric by your side. He’s close, though you can still make out the defined muscles of his torso, occasionally flexing in the water. He’s an amalgam of masculine strength and gentle softness, strong but unassuming, certain but meek and oddly vulnerable. It’s disarming, and it makes you feel like he’s giving you control, reassuring you that he’s willing to stay within any boundaries you have carefully constructed.

In short, he’s the handsome gentleman every teenage girl dreams of having.

“I hope this is okay,” Cedric murmurs, shyly.

“Okay?” You echo, smiling broadly, “This is perfect, Cedric. It’s exactly what I needed.”

Cedric smiles and pours you a glass of cherry-apple juice. For what feels like hours, the two of you sit and enjoy each other’s company, laughing and joking and indulging in the fondue treats. The outside world seems to melt away like you and Cedric have created a pocket of your own universe where everything is whimsically romantic and surreal and seeped in sepia and nothing like the corrupt reality outside of this bubble that is threatening to devour it.

For the first time in a week, you finally feel calm, like Cedric is a home not build from bricks or marble but a home built by teenage dreams.

“Thank you, again,” you sigh, savouring the taste of chocolate on your tongue, and Cedric flashes a warm, genuine smile.

“It was nothing. Seriously, all of this is nothing compared to–” Cedric stops, bites his lip and smooths it over with the tip of his tongue.

“Compared to?” You watch him as he sighs, conceding.

“Compared to how you make me feel.”

You blink at him, wondering with a feeling of dread whether this is all a dream, and you pinch yourself just in case. When you realise it’s not, you smile, the weight and length of it nearly splitting your face in half, your heart feeling like an overgrown pumpkin from Hagrid's patch, because this is real, and nothing really matters anymore, none of it, because he’s moving closer and so are you and he’s bending down and you’re reaching up, and he’s raising a hand to your cheek and you’re parting your lips, waiting, yearning for that earth-shattering moment when your lips will finally meet, and Merlin this is not a dream, not anymore–

A peel of gleeful laughter fills the air.

You and Cedric wrench apart, startled by the intruder, who floats over to you grinning for the first time in what you suspect has been many years.

“So the pretty girl has found someone who’s willing to kiss her,” Moaning Myrtle sneers. She narrows a glare on you when she recognises Cedric, “And it’s the handsome one, too.”

“Could we have some privacy, please Myrtle?” You snap, acutely aware of the flimsy pieces of underwear you’re currently wearing.

Myrtle’s bottom lip quivers, “I get awfully lonely here by myself, yet you have all the boys drooling over you like you’ve cast a spell on them. It’s simply not fair.”

“I’m-I’m sure you’ll find someone, Myrtle,” Cedric offers, expression kind and hopeful.

Myrtle heaves a sigh, “Someday, maybe,” her gloomy, transparent face suddenly lights up with glee, “But I’ll relish in telling the Boy who Lived that the girl he’d die for has found someone else to go on adventures with.”

You steel your spine and look her directly in the eye, speaking firmly, “Myrtle, please. I think it’s time you left.”

Myrtle sighs, defeated, her eyes welling up with tears, “Fine! I will! But, just so you know, I’ll be his shoulder to cry on...metaphorically speaking.”

And with that, Myrtle disappears into the pipes, her wails echoing through the bathroom.

***

Cedric drops you off with a goodbye kiss on the cheek that makes you feel like a burning sunset; warm and beautiful and seeped in daydreams.

You manage to float up the stairs to the girls' dormitory without tripping, creep into your bedroom, and change into your pyjamas without waking anyone, a skill you’ve practised since knowing Harry Potter.

The girls are already fast asleep, curtains drawn on the four-poster beds and curled beneath the sheets. Hermione is even muttering in her sleep.

Climbing into bed, you pull the sheets right up to your nose and grin goofily, thankful that no one can see you. Your churning anxiety doesn’t seem so overwhelming in this moment, Cedric washing away your fears like a river of holy water. And, though you’re life may be shrouded in mystery, at least Cedric can be your guiding light, the single truth you can cling to.

You fall asleep smiling, oblivious to what the next few weeks have in store.

tagging: @marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench @harrvjpotter @depressed-octopods-art @romanofftasha @moonpeachs @emi-loser @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @randomfangirl17 @asofslytherin @seunlight if i have forgotten to tag you, please tell me! sorry if i have. i love you. also if you want to be tagged, pls send me an ask :)) thanks for reading babes

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pinkletterday · 6 years

Text

Legends 4x3

Okay so after the fucking Flash kicked my heart in the nuts and left me to die last week, my soul needs an ice pack to numb the pain. Not in the mood for bullshit, folks.

I mean in no mood for wank. This show is some top-shelf bullshit.

Already bracing for Americans trying to speak English. I'm not excusing any of the British Empire's atrocities but every time an American tries to imitate an English accent, I feel kinda sorry for them.

What the fuck is that voice. DOLORES UMBRIDGE IS THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

Ah, the Crown Jewels. Or as we of the former Raj like to call them, Loot.

...

...I see they've started pumping the Beebo-grade crack through the writer's room air vents early this season.

I have no love for the House of Windsor but the Dolores Umbridge shaking her bum at me is giving me conflicting feelings.

Guys. You are way overestimating the importance of the monarchy on UK politics. For one, Scotland and Ireland have been trying to get rid of that dog leash for years, it would stopper the largest welfare drain on the British tax payers and force them to find a better tourist attraction than a houseful of barmy inbreds who get paid to wave at idiots.

It is possible I have some feelings about the British Monarchy. I'm sorry, Americans. I understand you sacrificed one of your own to them recently.

Nate and Ray watch Patrick Swayze movies together. Good to know good to know.

So Zari's sacred totem is now a sacred FitBit? Eh, why not.

RED ALERT SARA LANCE IS IN A TANK TOP WOMAN ALL STATIONS!!

I don't understand why these are supposed to be bad guys. LEAVE THE SMELL ALONE.

Gerard Way is evil?

Jesus fuck how does Caity Lotz work the Roxette hair so damn well???

Oh don't look like that Sara. "So the Legends walk into a bar" is now a historical punchline. Let the one who cast the first beer bottle stand in judgement - no wait that was you.

Lolololol work it Ray work it! Brandon Routh is the most adorable comedy gold mine.

Goddamn I did not know there would be this much UST between Mick and John Con.

You know it's bad when MICK RORY is concerned for the team's survival.

Gary stop being so embarrassingly heterosexual.

Blawks. Blawks.

BLAWKS.

OKAY MY EMBARRASSMENT SYMPATHY SQUICK CAN'T TAKE THIS I'M MUTING TILL ITS OVER.

Look so far I am 100% behind the punks. Not only are they gorgeous and revolutionary and anti-kyriarchy, that Indian girl can also get it anytime anywhere arré shawash meri jaan ok this devolved somewhat.

You want people to Rage Against The Corgis?

RAY STOP TRYING TO TALK BRITISH MY EARS TRY TO CRAWL BACK INSIDE MY SKULL EVERY TIME YOU DO.

"The pooch seems to have fallen in with a bad crowd" Loooool

YO NO HEALTH AND HYGIENE IS ALSO VERY IMPORTANT TO THE PUNK MOVEMENT. DISCO IS NOT THE ONLY ONE PRO-STAYING ALIVE. THERE IS NO GLORY IN SEPSIS.

Mate, it's Liverpool. We could drop you in 1423 and you'd still somehow find Liverpool like due fucking North.

Is he hitting on Dr. Who's next companion?

!!!!! MUM!!!!!!

Yes Zari we all have regrets now.

I don't care about Nate and Amaya I need more Constangreen deets!

But oh way to twist that knife dude, damn Gary.

I see the CGI department are going to town with the extra two dollars in their budget.

"DECLAN IS CUTE" RAY PALMER IS OFFICIALLY QUEER THIS IS CANON NOT A DRILL ALL SHIPS ARE GO

Corgi mohawk. Of course it is. OF COURSE.

There's a FAILSAFE? Does Barry Allen know?

So I guess the grandfather paradox is officially off the table? No?

Ok but what if you kicked a bucket out under a ladder or something that would precipitate a chain reaction that killed one of your ancestors? Would you still find yourself flat on your back in an unfun way, no buckets harmed?

I will say, as far as self-loathing goes, that's a pretty inventive way of committing suicide. But then who among us has not wanted to punch our Dads in the nuts so hard we would never be born? Show of hands!

Okay then. I guess its just me and you, Constantine. Awks.

Your past is coming for you? It would have to catch up to your lungs, your liver and Mick Rory, mate.

RETURN OF THE DISCO OUTFITS I AM SCREAMING YESSSSSS LORDDDD

Okay! Listen, Disco was a black music movement that was an expression of African rebellion against capitalism and white supremacy until it was demonized and then co-opted by white people like everything fucking else black people has ever come up with including yeeting. Why do you white punks think you're better than them?

I never associate Abba with Disco, despite all the sequins. Now Boney M. Donna Summer. Bee Gees. Fucking Prince. I love Abba man, but they don't rate within the genre.

Not being Irish isn't a past, bruv. It's a lack of one. A literal dodged bullet in the 1970s. Fuck off.

Oh my Lord stay forever my beautiful Brown Girl In The Ring.

I love Maisie but this South Asian representation is giving me feelings. I'm going to show up for every kind of diversity but I miss seeing my own people on my screen so much, y'all.

LOL mixtapes.

I hadn't realized Ray and Amaya were close at all. Did they ever have a partnered episode?

I thought the team's moral compass was Ray.

This whole "having to go hard to feel my own shape" thing is seriously relatable to my neurodivergent ass.

"Squad save the queen" Sara you aren't even trying.

I think there is some truth to the discontent rising from the Avalance faction that Sara is somewhat lacking in weight and complexity thus far. Give my captain her due, writers.

Oh woooow Ray Palmer is showing some TEETH.

To be fair, I too get that excited about lunch.

Gar-bear. *pained look*

Of course the one plant Gary managed to pick up would turn out to be friggin' Audrey II.

Nate in hot pursuit after a rogue potted plant, livin' his best life.

Aw man. Bad bitch!Ray was actually Charlie. That makes sense, I guess. *grumbles*

MAISIE!!! WITH HER REAL HAIR AND ACCENT!!! HI MAISIE WE MISSED YOU!

Sigh. Goodbye beautiful brown goddess. I hope you come back.

Lmaoooo Ray what the fuck is that face??

Lmao I love how the rest of the office is just clacking away peacefully in the background. Bust up with a man-eating Venus Sandwich-Trap in cubicle 17? Okay well, send a memo to HR.

Aww Nate. Oh no. You poor sod.

Hey Sara you wanna give a guy a heads-up on something that is very definitely gonna end up in a colossal heartbroken clusterfuck? No? Okay.

Ah finally. Some lesbian nookie...that is off-screen.

Ava: "how do you herd cats?"

Sara: "you don't."

And we’re done. An uneven episode and a distinct lack of Gerard Way or actual Disco but it got the job done!

#legends of tomorrow spoilers #legends of tomorrow #liveblog

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michaelpatrickhicks · 6 years

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Ten Spring Reads To Watch For

Yeah, the shift toward warmer weather and cool evenings sipping beer after some grueling lawncare is great and all, but for me the best part of spring is the blossoming of new books. From the looks of things, there's a boatload of promising intrigue, blood-curdling chills, and action-packed adventures ahead. While it's a sure bet I have plenty of other books in my TBR and review pile, here's the Top 10 spring reads I am most looking forward to.

One Way by S.J. Morden

April 10, 2018 | Orbit

When the small crew of ex cons working on Mars start getting murdered, everyone is a suspect in this terrifying science fiction thriller from bona fide rocket scientist and award winning-author S. J. Morden.

It's the dawn of a new era - and we're ready to colonize Mars. But the company that's been contracted to construct a new Mars base, has made promises they can't fulfill and is desperate enough to cut corners. The first thing to go is the automation . . . the next thing they'll have to deal with is the eight astronauts they'll send to Mars, when there aren't supposed to be any at all.

Frank - father, architect, murderer - is recruited for the mission to Mars with the promise of a better life, along with seven of his most notorious fellow inmates. But as his crew sets to work on the red wasteland of Mars, the accidents mount up, and Frank begins to suspect they might not be accidents at all. As the list of suspect grows shorter, it's up to Frank to uncover the terrible truth before it's too late.

Dr. S. J. Morden trained as a rocket scientist before becoming the author of razor-sharp, award-winning science fiction. Perfect for fans of Andy Weir's The Martian and Richard Morgan, One Way takes off like a rocket, pulling us along on a terrifying, epic ride with only one way out.

They Feed by Jason Parent

April 15, 2018 | Sinister Grin Press

The night uncovers all we wish not to see. A troubled man enters a dusky park before sunset. A young woman follows, hidden in shadow. Both have returned to the park to take back something the past has stolen from them, to make right six long years of suffering, and to find justice or perhaps redemption—or maybe they'll settle for some old-fashioned revenge. But something evil is alive and awake in those woods, creatures that care nothing for human motivations. They’re driven by their own insatiable need: a ravenous, bottomless hunger. The campgrounds are full tonight, and the creatures are starving. Before the night is over, they will feed. An unrelenting tale of terror from Jason Parent, acclaimed author of People of the Sun and What Hides Within.

Breaking the World by Jerry Gordon

April 17, 2018 | Apex Books

Cyrus doesn't believe in David's predictions, and he's not interested in being part of a cult. But after the sudden death of his brother, his parents split up and his mom drags him to Waco, Texas against his will. At least he's not alone. His friends, Marshal and Rachel, have equally sad stories that end with them being dumped at the Branch Davidian Church. Together, they're the trinity of nonbelievers, atheist teens caught between a soon to be infamous cult leader, an erratic FBI, and an epidemic that may confirm the worst of the church's apocalyptic prophecies. With tanks surrounding the Branch Davidians and tear gas in the air, Cyrus and his friends know one thing for certain: They can't count on the adults to save them. In his debut novel, Jerry Gordon takes readers deep inside the longest standoff in law enforcement history for an apocalyptic thriller that challenges the news media's reporting of the event, the wisdom of militarizing domestic law enforcement, and the blurry line between religion and cult.

The Atrocities by Jeremy C. Shipp

April 17, 2018 | Tor.com

Jeremy Shipp brings you THE ATROCITIES, a haunting gothic fantasy of a young ghost's education

When Isabella died, her parents were determined to ensure her education wouldn't suffer.

But Isabella's parents had not informed her new governess of Isabella's... condition, and when Ms Valdez arrives at the estate, having forced herself through a surreal nightmare maze of twisted human-like statues, she discovers that there is no girl to tutor.

Or is there...?

Forsaken (A Unit 51 Novel) by Michael McBride

April 24, 2018 | Pinnacle

IT HAS SURVIVED At a research station in Antarctica, scientists discovered a strange and ancient organism. They thought they could study it, classify it, control it. They couldn’t. IT HAS THRIVED Six months ago, a secret paramilitary team called Unit 51 was sent to the station. They thought the creature was dead, the nightmare was over. It wasn’t. IT HAS EVOLVED In a Mexican temple, archeologists uncover the remains of a half-human hybrid. They believe it is related to the creature in Antarctica, a dark thing of legend that is still alive—and still evolving. They believe it needs a new host to feed, to mutate, to multiply. They’re right. And they’re next. And the human race might just be headed for extinction . . .

Fury From the Tomb: The Institute for Singular Antiquities Book 1 by S.J. Morden

May 1, 2018 | Angry Robot Books

Mummies, grave-robbing ghouls, hopping vampires, and evil monks beset a young archaeologist, in this fast-paced Indiana Jones-style adventure Saqqara, Egypt, 1888, and in the booby-trapped tomb of an ancient sorcerer, Rom, a young Egyptologist, makes the discovery of a lifetime: five coffins and an eerie, oversized sarcophagus. But the expedition seems cursed, for after unearthing the mummies, all but Rom die horribly. He faithfully returns to America with his disturbing cargo, continuing by train to Los Angeles, home of his reclusive sponsor. When the train is hijacked by murderous banditos in the Arizona desert, who steal the mummies and flee over the border, Rom – with his benefactor’s rebellious daughter, an orphaned Chinese busboy, and a cold-blooded gunslinger – must ride into Mexico to bring the malevolent mummies back. If only mummies were their biggest problem…

Obscura by Joe Hart

May 8, 2018 | Thomas & Mercer

She’s felt it before... the fear of losing control. And it’s happening again.

In the near future, an aggressive and terrifying new form of dementia is affecting victims of all ages. The cause is unknown, and the symptoms are disturbing. Dr. Gillian Ryan is on the cutting edge of research and desperately determined to find a cure. She’s already lost her husband to the disease, and now her young daughter is slowly succumbing as well. After losing her funding, she is given the unique opportunity to expand her research. She will travel with a NASA team to a space station where the crew has been stricken with symptoms of a similar inexplicable psychosis—memory loss, trances, and violent, uncontrollable impulses.

Crippled by a secret addiction and suffering from creeping paranoia, Gillian finds her journey becoming a nightmare as unexplainable and violent events plague the mission. With her grip weakening on reality, she starts to doubt her own innocence. And she’s beginning to question so much more—like the true nature of the mission, the motivations of the crew, and every deadly new secret space has to offer.

Merging thrilling science-fiction adventure with mind-bending psychological suspense, Wall Street Journal bestselling author Joe Hart explores both the vast mysteries of outer space and the even darker unknown that lies within ourselves.

Hell Divers III: Deliverance by Nicholas Sansbury-Smith

May 15, 2018 | Blackstone Publishing

Left for dead on the nightmarish surface of the planet, Commander Michael Everhart and his team of Hell Divers barely escape with their lives aboard a new airship called Deliverance. After learning that Xavier “X” Rodriguez may still be alive, they mount a rescue mission for the long-lost hero.

In the skies, the Hive is falling apart, but Captain Jordan is more determined than ever to keep humanity in their outdated lifeboat. He will do whatever it takes to keep the ship in the air—even murder. But when he learns the Hell Divers he exiled have found Deliverance, he changes course for a new mission—find the divers, kill them, and make their new ship his own.

In the third installment of the USA Today bestselling Hell Divers series, Michael and his fellow divers fight across the mutated landscape in search of X. But what they find will change everything.

Blood Standard by Laird Barron

May 29, 2018 | G.P. Putnman's Sons

Award-winning author Laird Barron makes his crime fiction debut with a novel set in the underbelly of upstate New York that's as hardboiled and punchy as a swift right hook to the jaw--a classic noir for fans of James Ellroy and John D. Macdonald. Isaiah Coleridge is a mob enforcer in Alaska--he's tough, seen a lot, and dished out more. But when he forcibly ends the moneymaking scheme of a made man, he gets in the kind of trouble that can lead to a bullet behind the ear. Saved by the grace of his boss and exiled to upstate New York, Isaiah begins a new life, a quiet life without gunshots or explosions. Except a teenage girl disappears, and Isaiah isn't one to let that slip by. And delving into the underworld to track this missing girl will get him exactly the kind of notice he was warned to avoid.

The Woman in the Woods by John Connolly

June 12, 2018 | Atria/Emily Bestler Boks

From internationally bestselling author and “creative genius who has few equals in either horror fiction or the mystery genre” (New York Journal of Books) comes a gripping thriller starring Private Investigator Charlie Parker. When the body of a woman—who apparently died in childbirth—is discovered, Parker is hired to track down both her identity and her missing child. In the beautiful Maine woods, a partly preserved body is discovered. Investigators realize that the dead young woman gave birth shortly before her death. But there is no sign of a baby. Private detective Charlie Parker is hired by a lawyer to shadow the police investigation and find the infant but Parker is not the only searcher. Someone else is following the trail left by the woman, someone with an interest in much more than a missing child…someone prepared to leave bodies in his wake. And in a house by the woods, a toy telephone begins to ring and a young boy is about to receive a call from a dead woman.

I'm also planning on digging into several titles that have been lingering in my review pile for quite a while, including the Bram Stoker Award-nominated Kill Creek by Scott Thomas. What's on your reading list for the next couple months ahead?

#Top 10 #Spring Reading List #horror #scifi #thrillers #mysteries #books

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