#theories thoughts rambles and analysis always welcome--never ever annoying
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𝟏𝟑 | 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠
ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader
"Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you."
no cw memories of an overprotective prince and high fever. author is blatantly in love with Kirishima. whole apologies, half apologies, wordless promises, technical treason. learning how to speak softly. covering each other's mouths so the truth can't slip out because I want them to kiss as badly as you do. somewhat suggestive. nonviolent touches in the palatial bedroom of a long-dead prince. part ii: fin 6.7k
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Mina Ashido is sick, not like you finally breathing softly on a bed the size of a merchant village, but with guilt. She flicks a bric-à-brac she found on some grand writing desk and Denki punches her shoulder when her nail taps the metal absentmindedly. Click. Thud.
Their eyes dart to the far side of the room across a row of white windows and stop on the knotted body of their prince, folded like a trench soldier on a chaise half his size. His hair shags over his sleeping face and crossed arms but Mina can still see the veins of his jaw, clenched and dreaming of adrenaline.
One loud sound might be it for them– Bakugou would eulogize sleep schedule before skinning them like fish but it’s four in the afternoon and Mina knows it’s actually because your fever broke this morning and he would detonate if anyone disturbed you.
You can lay there like an angel because you never really fall asleep, right? Sick as a dog and dreaming of work. Sero pokes his head inside for a second to check the firewood cache and steps out again. Kirishima wears a path from the kitchen to your new bedroom with his constant lumber deliveries because he knows you wouldn’t want to see him at your bedside. Dead, conscious, or otherwise. All four of them rot.
You make a spectacle of the prince wherever he’s seen with you and this time you weren’t even awake to witness your destruction. Bakugou, dripping wet for some reason, roared through the halls of Takoba at midnight which wouldn’t have been special save for how tightly he held you and how little you moved. Safe but limp in the crook of his neck.
The castle at midnight is so much more lovely than during the day. There are no accusing Takoban eyes to make your Alderan shoulders itch and there was no loss of dignity in practicing her waltz in an empty ballroom. Mina swayed safe and alone and filled with excitement for the impending party. She anticipated Uraraka and practiced her flirtiest glances to deploy when the soldier inevitably found her, as she did every night, and sent her back upstairs. Mina was just a mage after all, not a lord or lady. Not a royal guard.
Boom! Rattled the ceiling from the floor above and where Mina was expecting a round-faced girl she’d gotten a heart attack. She snapped her candle in a startled fist at the first familiar eruption and darted up two staircases to Kirishima’s quarters with the second and third.
The Champion was already half dressed. The heartbeat of the castle woke him up, the sound of hundreds of little bees mobilizing at royal orders.
They joined the flocks of servants and butlers in their night clothes all crowding, choking yawns, and rushing through the hallways, up higher and deeper into those frozen parts of the castle where their prince’s fury vibrated. The place no one dared breathe since the king left eleven years ago.
The North Wing was closed forever and someone had lit a spark at its highest point. Maids to her right, butlers and nurses to his left, Kirishima and Mina became insignificant in the river of nightgowns and candles and slippers and whispers. Who could he have possibly picked a fight with at this hour? The farther Takobans hiked, the deeper their bones felt the cold in this place no one should be. Death march.
“Katsuki!” Someone rasped. The Champion hoisted Mina onto his shoulders when they could no longer force themselves forward up stairs and through archways. Only little Shuzenji’s great big voice called out clearly for the crowd to hear, “Katsuki– you’ll be arrested, this– this is, I mean, you’re– fuck.”
At the end of the hallway, two red doors hung open, one truly dangling by its top hinges. The prince crouched just inside, squat by the light of a beautiful fireplace and its fine tinder. Chairs and ottomans, a writing desk, curtains and rugs, all delicate and silver and crushed and melting and screaming with moisture in a white Alderan fire.
“She needs fresh air and a fucking fireplace.”
You were melting in his arms too, quietly.
Sweating and indifferent to how carefully he supported the back of your head or with what level of self control it took for him to surrender you into the lap of the exasperated Takoban doctor.
“This is a lot of fuss for a fever, Katsuki.”
“Get useful or die trying.”
Six footmen at the front of the crowd panicked at his words and knelt immediately to collect splinters from shattered furniture. They winced as the crowds continued to push around and above them to get a view of just what the Alderan guest would do with Prince Touya’s long dead bedroom.
He knelt in it. When the fire in its Place wheezed, he fed it the dead boy’s gilded furniture and knelt again near you.
He lurched but didn’t strike when you were moved from the floor to the bed and found a seat again. He glared at loud noises from the foot of the bed but sat still as superstitious servants trembled while lighting candles. He rumbled when Princess Fuyumi squeezed herself through the frozen crowd with Uraraka in tow and immediately made an order for fresh bedlinens and firewood because before anything, before she was even a sister she was a saint.
He didn’t do too much more than that. He sat like a threat until dawn while staff and nurses buzzed around to make the North Wing breathe again. He waited for arrest.
He frowned at his Alderan company as they hovered in the doorway and sometimes he let them sit with you when he knew he needed to sleep. He balled his fists as he told them your secret and nothing else. More than anything he waited for you to wake up.
Prince Bakugou sleeps like a psychopath, you bewilder as you rub your eyes. He’s still pretty, knotted half a million ways to hell on the velvet chaise across the room and seeing him asleep is much more unusual than seeing him surrounded by books like this. There’s a pile at his feet and another at his head and a console table between them for his teacup and a pen.
It’s less scary to think about touching him when he’s sleeping. About rubbing his shoulder with your soft palm and stumbling back to this obnoxiously comfortable bed with his heat at your back– no. About rolling over in this obscenely large bed through morning chill and sunlight to find his magic-worn hands already pulling you against him. Fumbling to tuck every part of you inside his arms half-alseep– slipping under your–
About finally throwing your weapon aside as dust settles, victorious, and rattling his skull with the bloodiest punch you can manage. Breaking your fingers on his golden jaw– about kneeling over his battered body, panting, as he uses the last of his strength to raise his arms, to– no– to trace his fingers over your cheeks– no– and through your hair where you loom above him. About letting him pull you down with the last of his strength to kiss you on the battlefield.
Something outside clatters and crashes and your eyes fly open as you sit up in the room you made in a dream. You rub your eyes, deja vu, and spot your golden prince right where you left him. Scowling, pretty, on a sofa across a veritable ballroom in the afternoon sun. Someone shouts outside and you lurch from an aggressively comfortable bed with the confidence of a person who has just woken up without a question for reality. You are a Captain and there’s violence outside the place where your prince is sleeping. No thoughts to your ten-pound beddress or the continental mystery bedroom or the fire that blazes in its white marble fireplace.
“You oaf!” Someone hisses as you pitter-patter pitter-patter and clear the room barefoot to throw open one of two elven doors. That someone is Mina. She is pretty and pink and she stares at you with her mouth open in a hallway cold enough to outline her breath in small puffs of shock.
Takoba is a series of beautiful rooms tied to tall hallways, this one’s no different. Mina is bathed in the warmest sunlight November can offer even in a place like this and she’s hunched and pointing in the middle of scolding Sero who has also frozen to stare at you on his knees halfway through reaching for a log that’s gotten well away from him.
“Do you need help?”
Mina reaches for you like the air is too thick to move. You almost call her Lady again before you remember.
“Y/n,” she breathes. Sero is forgotten on the floor because you’re suddenly here in this doorway while the last vestiges of sleep drip off of you, gooey, onto the marble. “Y/n, are you–” she slips your hands into hers when she manages a step forward.
Bakugou and the sea, right? A column of fire in your chest and a trip back home. Was touching him a dream? They’re no lords. I hate you. One lost Alderan earring and two hands holding you. Yesterday they were golden and trembling.
Mina’s fingers twitch with every word out of her mouth, “I’m so sorry.”
“Mina, don’t–” Sero tries to stop her.
“We’re so sorry, Y/n, so so sorry, please gods we’re–”
“Mina.”
Her body goes rigid but her hands stay soft on yours when she snaps at him, “Like you weren’t in tears two days ago! Don’t pretend to be cool.”
You become aware of your clothes for the first time when you consider their earnest Alderan faces and your tangled hands. Completely unarmed in a quilted dress that drags on the ground. Seashells twinkle when you move.
“Course I’m sorry,” Sero shudders. He rises and your eyes finally adjust well enough to sunlight to catch Denki statue-still beside a window where it appears you burst onto the scene as he was making to close it, “she’s my Captain.”
If you weren’t still processing his lack of lordship you’d order him to his knees for the treason of calling you Captain. What purpose does he serve in the castle? A mage like Mina? You cock your head and stuffy nose, and shift to shake away the inconvenient thought that someone’s been calling you Captain for weeks with no punishment. Denki breathes, “Katsuki told us.”
“We thought you knew– we never meant to–!” And again your attention is on Mina, desperately closer than she’s ever been. Closer than anyone’s dared to hold you gently, “We thought you were playing Y/n, we– I should have said something.”
And of all the things to remember from last night, delirium and immodesty, a humiliating rescue, thoughts that meant to stay inside forever, I hate you, the taste of someone else’s teasweet breath– the one bites the least. They’re not lords.
It’s cold out here, you should invite the lot of them inside to warm up. You should ask them where the fuck you are.
“It’s my mistake Ms. Mina,” you smile pretty like you’ve trained for, “Harmless. Don’t worry.”
Three huge eyes blink out of sync surely because someone thought it was funny to put you in a queen’s night dress and hide your shoes. It’s better they’re not lords to be seeing you in the state.
“We,” Sero starts confidently and trails off with the syllable. Mina’s thinking.
Denki takes his turn beside the window and the three of you turn to his light, “We watched you grow up in that beautiful castle,” he hums. He has spoken with you twice, three times now, and it’s never been particularly affective or affectionate but he’s right that home is beautiful. Aldera is lots of things. You falter in the doorway now that adrenaline has bled from you into Mina’s hands. “You were in my letters class.”
Eight years old and late for Letters in a thunderstorm that swept you to the prince and clobbered you both with peaches. The students gaped when you stepped inside, dripping rainwater and bruised, to take your seat at the head of the class with a weapon still strapped to your back. Denki looks as if on the verge of tears which all feels a bit melodramatic for one damp day fifteen-some years ago. “I was afraid of you. Y/n, I’m so sorry.”
“I –” Mina releases your hands so she can stand a bit taller, so you turn, “I believed what people told me, Y/n, I’m sorry. I listened in the kitchens and spellhalls when they told me you never eat or sing, I believed them every time I scurried past your post with an errand and back again where you hadn’t moved a breath for hours.” It’s kind that she’s not touching as she speaks but the cold of the hallway is pinching your stupid bare feet. You never cared enough to pay attention to her either, why should she apologize? You never noticed her out of the tens of children that studied with you, worked around you, served you, fell to you in training.
“When you didn’t recognize us at the start of the trip I thought you were so cool. I thought, no, it was just so cool to be traveling with the only Alderan apprentice– Spear of the Queen– you– I watched you get stronger for years. Sero would come to the potion pantry while Kaminari and I organized and gush about any impossible whathaveyou Jeanist’s Second pulled off in the gallery that day. Any Alderan could recognize you from footsteps, you’re– I– I’m not doing a good job.”
“She’s sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” she confirms and hovers between your bodies like she’s warming her hands with your fire. “You’re a hero. I’m just a training mage the prince can’t get rid of and you’ve saved the skin off our skulls more times than there are calendars. Y/n,” you look between Mina who presses no closer and the boys behind her, “I’m a coward, I want to know everything about you.”
You are ridiculous, dressed up in a doorway at noon with no idea how you got there and a weakness in your gut that teeters on allconsuming the longer you let it alone. You are a soldier. You are Jeanist’s soldier, you are his prodigy you should have shoes–
Something startles your Alderan company, shoulders jumping, and Sero plummets to a knee when he registers the dark cloud gathering behind his commanding officer wilting in a nightgown by the sea.
“Wers, there he–”
“I am bound by blood and at your service, my Captain! My behavior is unacceptable while you have been serving alone in Takoba.”
A soldier then. Mina turns from her friend on the floor to gauge your new reactions while Denki presses two footsteps closer. That night comes back in pieces. You reach for your ear and pinch one lobe in icy fingers while the Alderans look on. What part of the dream is this? First Bakugou, his warmth and anger now these three? What will this one melt into? More atrocities on the battlefield? Send them away.
You feel the bark in your throat and wait to see which one of them will scurry from you first. Have they heard your soldier’s voice before?
Go on. No one moves because you can’t actually make the sound. Sero doesn’t raise his head. They are mages and you outrank them. Be gone. “Just–” what finally comes out isn’t the voice of a soldier at all, “please.”
“I’ll help you to bed,” Mina tentatively leans forward as you lean exactly back.
“not necessary.”
“Y/n, you’ve been out for three days,” Denki closes in too, “We’ll throw some logs on your fire and get out of your hair, but first can we make sure you’re okay? Call the doctor and get you some food?”
You can only lean so far before you need to take a step, and then only so far after that before your back hits the door that has shut behind you. You haven’t been sick because you don’t get sick. You’ve been dreaming, too much, which is worse.
A series of hollow crashes startle the Alderans again half out of their coats but you haven’t been caught by surprise in seven years.
“Y/n,” Kirishima hardly whispers, barely breathes where he’s appeared a little ways down the hall, dropping stacks of lumber from his arms onto the marble. He didn’t grow up in the castle. He showed up a few years ago stuck to the hem of Bakugou’s cape like tree sap and he’s always made every effort to smile. A smile from a stranger doesn’t mean much.
“Y/n,” he whispers again and staggers forward like he’s tried to catch himself from tripping, “you’re–” at first he is relief and then you remember, in a moment of lucidity, that you’re upset with him. “You’re awake.”
His limp hair flounders red in your direction. What right does he have to look so disheveled? Dark circles and a creased forehead, for what? His palms and sleeves are flecked with splinters and filth that he tries to brush off in his steps over firewood– tree trunks really– that now litter the hallway.
Fury gives you the strength to step forward, “You–”
“You,” the distance is closed. Alderans have stopped pressing into you and watch their companion, rosy cheeks, dark stubble, smile lines thrown to the wayside and big, wet eyes, reach, “You scared me.” And on contact he dissolves into a sob.
Kirishima grabs your sleeve first without his usual care and wrenches you deep into his arms. Maybe you’re tired, you don’t strike him as he shakes.
“You, you have to tell someone, Y/n,” you can only hear the words through vibrations in his chest and now the whole hallway smells like sweet Alderan fire. You should be suffocated, furious, you shouldn’t close your eyes. “You can’t just collapse. No one needs to be that strong– it– you– ’m so sorry.”
The Champion’s fingers clutch at the back of your neck and shoulders but you’re too charged by shock to register until the warmth, the fire and safety, pulls you away by the cheeks. Kirishima cradles your face in two hands that could crush and tries to speak through agony. Drowning teardrops plummet off his black lashes, “must have been so lonely.”
And what Mina saw as exhaustion, Sero anger, folds the corners of your mouth like paper, lips trembling, and wets both eyes with a blink.
It is something inexplicable like being thirteen on your way home from Peruro. A day of joy, song dance and feats of strength. Fencing competitions. They don’t give toy swords to soldiers and so you slipped inside the quietest part of the celebrating castletown, victorious two years running, bloodied and something more than tired. Crunch. As you approached the basin in the stables for jockeys to rinse mud from their eyes, you lifted your boot just enough to watch the broken green body of a mantis fall apart between the ground and your tread. One thin arm, little just like yours, remained untouched by your footprint and detached entirely from the creature that was just two more arm’s-lengths too slow.
You were startled for the last time in your glance to the mirror. You usually rinsed muck or sweat off your cheeks in the stables and the horses were here, the smell and warmth were here, but today you were splashed in blood. And so much worse than that, tears ran clean streaks through the filth. When you fall to pieces in your beautiful dress beside the sea it is impossible to hide.
“Please can we help you?” Kirishima blubbers through a smile before you nod, and he pulls you back in tight.
It is so strange to be held and uninjured. A hand materializes at the top of your head and more bodies surround you in the dark of Kirishima’s chest. Splinters poke at your cheeks but you press through them. You hold tight to the fabric of his sleeves and wrap a warm finger around the cold fingers that find yours.
It’s condescending and so unnaturally welcomed. You can’t even cry right. The tears fall and your voice breaks uneven because you’ve forgotten how to breathe with a lump in your throat, how long has it been? Steady arms hold you upright as you try to remember. Anything for you, Majesty. Don’t need a babysitter. Who’re you lookin at? Cover yourself. Captain! Y/n! Yes sir. Yes sir. Yes sir.
“I’m.. ‘m so hungry,” you sob in muffled fragments and the Champion rumbles with true tearful laughter,
“She’s hungry!”
Mina wraps herself around your back and grips the knit of Kirishima’s tunic to keep all three of you tight together. She’s crying too from the sound of it, and rambling as always through the tears, “Don’t just drop dead in the hallway for Kats to collect! Thought he was gonna torch the castle–” she shakes you all, Kirishima as the lighthouse, “my blood pressure’s never recovering from this week snakes from on high I know we deserved it but we haven’t had a moment’s rest with that lunatic playing bedside officer,” she is still gentle when she touches you, when she cups your face, when she leans herself into the Champion’s hold to be that much closer, “I’m a much better nurse, Y/n, promise, I promise wouldn’t–”
“Talkin shit?”
What if someone had found you that day in the stables, instead of clapping you on the back for the day’s bloody victories and ignoring your red rimmed eyes? Bakugou crosses his arms over his golden chest and leans against the doorway framed by fire whipping in the bedroom behind him. It’s subtle, but the heat’s made his ears pink. No one moves.
“A bit..”
Mina stuffs her hand over Kirishima’s wobbling lips before he says anything else to get you all sent to the gallows. You just watch and the prince watches back. Over the Champion’s soft forearms and part of a filthy cotton coat, and partially through Mina’s hair. Bakugou’s collarbones roll with his breath where they poke out from his soft tunic, same with his stomach. It fills slightly with each heartbeat like he’s still too sleepy to harden himself and his posture.
You’re warm in this November hallway and your heart has been picked open by fruithungry doves. Bleeding down the front of this nice white nightgown, pooling rich at your feet. It’s easier to look at him when you’re crying. You stare through a crack in the hug with stray tears tumbling from your eyes like springs.
I’m not letting you out of my sight.
“Go on then, down mutts.” The prince unfolds and steps forward to pry Mina’s arms apart, “Couldn’t trust you assholes to be quiet if I cut your tongues out.”
His Alderan company thaws slightly at the sarcasm and the hands tying you together unravel at every angle under his orders until you are the only one standing on the stain your bleeding heart made.
Prince Bakugou is not the same as he was when he carried you from the sea. He surveys your heavy beddress and bare feet with a frown but no fireworks and today he’s wearing no jewelry at all. Not a ruby, bone, nor sun in sight. He is still clearly out of place here, golden milk and glowing like coals; two red eyes that love to glare and his lips that called your name as you both choked on ocean foam.
“Hungry?”
You nod and the shake dislodges loose tears.
He grunts and tips his head towards the bedroom door, “Back inside. The rest of you,” and then turns to his company who has stiffly lined up along the wall to try and avoid the punishment their prince laid out very clearly in the event a series of Alderan shenanigans woke you up, “put your pea brains together and track down Uraraka– she’s late. And stop fucking crying.”
The prince would pull rank against a baby. He oozes control and ego and desperation for the self and it is infuriating how much he gets away with and how often he is right. His eyes are pomegranate seeds behind slits that shift constantly towards you in the cold hallway.
“Go on.”
You exchange a glance with your company behind you and each one of them is glowing with life. Mina has cleaned herself up with a smile and Denki leans against her, almost behind her, grinning nervously at his hellfire prince. Sero and Kirishima fight back tears and the lot of them hold their breath. Maybe that’s what you felt die inside of you.
The mages delay their prince’s orders no longer. They file down the hallway. “Welcome back, Y/n!” Mina waves and rolls her eyes at Bakugou’s seething.
“Rest well,” Kirishima smiles and wipes his eyes with his filthy sleeve while collecting the logs he dropped. Denki manages a curtsy, which makes you laugh, and they all round the corner with unsubtle exhales.
For all his spitfire, cunning and rage, for all their worry and apology, your Alderan company never objects to leaving you alone with the prince. For all their apologies, for all his harsh words and actions. Is it their trust in you, or their trust in him?
Alone and for a moment you stand just two arm’s lengths away from your prince while he looks pointedly down the hallway after their footsteps. His posture is returning. He rakes his hand like a claw through his hair to settle in itch and pauses for one more beat before turning to you. Prince Bakugou saved your life and you told him you hate him.
He cocks his head, “You look like shit.”
“Feel like shit, Highness.”
One fricative cough like laughter slips out of his chest and his eyes widen a bit, as if surprised by himself, before settling back to a scowl. He’s soft today, sleep deprived. You wipe the last of the salt from your eyes.
“Go back inside,” He instructs as he moves forward and corrals you back step by step.
“Where am I?”
Fury has been replaced by something wet inside of him, doused and smoking like a forest fire. He slips past you inside the white bedroom and marches to the camp he set up around the chaise to collect two books and a pen, which he tucks inside one cover before sticking both volumes under his arm. Prince Bakugou saved your life and slept beside you, and you told him you hate him.
You step toward him when he walks past again, this time out into the hallway, just too quickly for you to trap him with a stare. Your stomach cramps with hunger and your throat is dry from crying.
“Just go lay down.”
He does not get farther than one step over the threshold before you reach though, and clutch the hem of his tunic in a clammy hand.
Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you.
Prince Bakugou saved your life. He turns now when you dare to touch him, and when he looks at you the smoke inside him pours from his ears. The eye contact is not difficult like a spotlight or the sun, it’s more like a candle in the dark that stains the backs of your eyes for many few minutes. He looks like a dream in your delirium. What you must look like beneath him..
He squeezes his books tight under his bicep and fully squares himself to you, “I didn’t,” he starts. It’s a croak. it’s foreign to speak so softly as he speaks now, so softly you drop your hand from him and lean away. His ears are still red. “I didn’t tell them,” he frowns with thought, “about the sea.”
You are a liar. You stare at him like always and today like a void, and melt a little in front of the candle he is. What else is there to say? You nod and move away. His wax will burn you.
“Don’t–” he huffs. You weren’t surprised for seven years, not through contests or training, not under orders, not truly by the queen at the foot of your bed all those weeks ago, not camping with your new company and holding magic in your palms, not by blue fire. Bakugou clutches your wrist, your hand, when you turn away from him and the static shock makes each hair on your body tremble. He squeezes your fingers through the goosebumps.
“Don’t ever–”
“Yes sir.”
“– not ever again.”
“Yes–”
“Y/n.”
You look forward unblinking while your prince reels you in like a fish, rolling your fingertips in his palm. You can’t even manage a frown when you face him, all that bubbles up is bitten lips.
You get one more chance to look at him and when you do he doesn't bark or spit. Earnest red eyes watch under a frown.
“Just a prayer gone wrong, Highness. I promise.” You can’t feel the faint smile. You do not know what makes his eyes widen or scowl fall.
Someone clears their throat in the doorway behind him and the pair of you jump. Bakugou is quick to catch the books that fall from under his arm and you both rush to wipe your hands at your hips. Uraraka. She leans her weight against the door, “Sleeping beauties,” and smiles at you while your prince jerks away.
“You’re late,” he spits and pushes into the hallway.
“High Lords are waiting.”
“Spare me.”
Uraraka preens less than your Alderans but still ushers you to bed and rings a bell on the wall labeled ‘kitchen.” A log falls in the fireplace. Embers spit onto the marble hearth. The last glimpse of gold you catch is in your prince closing the bedroom door behind him, his hand like a claw again violently tousling his hair. You are a liar, you lie and tell lies, and you do not hate him at all.
Embarrassment is replaced with shame when you learn the princess has filled your new dressers with her old winter nightclothes. And when Uraraka tells you about her brother, the late prince, and his palatial bedroom locked away from the world with his mother’s sorrow.
You will find the princess tomorrow and press your head to the floor at her feet, you will kneel to the queen in thanks for her generosity, but tonight you will find your prince.
It won’t take long. Uraraka told you where his meeting was while she braided your hair and only half-heartedly instructed you to stay in bed when you asked for privacy. There is no lame guard stationed outside of this room, a room so high in the castle the fireplace can suck oxygen straight from the night sky above you. Warm like home. It’s easy to keep a fire that excited alive so you tent logs over the embers to feed it while you’re gone. Your white arming doublet blocks the cold– dragontooth brooch glowing– when you step into the hallway lit by torchlight, a gift and invitation from Master Aizawa.
The hallway is thawing slowly from it’s edges to its center and seems to be lined with every flammable item one could think of; candlesticks, torches, candelabrum, chandeliers– if a flame escaped from your fireplace the castle would burn from this hallway to it’s cornerstones like a match.
You smile watching the fire dance in place as you walk past them and into darker parts of the castle. Down staircases and through white hallways lined with their seed-sized carvings. Your temples ache with the change in temperature.
“Office of the King?” You ask a passing footman and they make a point to avoid eye contact before murmuring directions and shuffling away. Deeper you descend and even with rest and warm food in your belly your lungs start to work with great effort. “Office of the King?” You catch a housekeeper this time who is less timid but still keeps his head down like you are a noble.
“Straight ahead,” he points and when he bows slightly to leave you no longer register his presence, because a fluffy golden head slips back inside the only door in the hallway. You step down the last stair in front of you and into the corridor. Your boots would creak on wooden floors at home but along the marble you are silent.
There aren’t half enough torches down here to adequately light the way or warm the castle from the chill of its many windows. The door your prince tucked back inside of glows when you approach it. This is when you would steady your hand on your weapon, or shift your shoulder blades to feel the weight of your master’s halberd.
Office of the King. You trace the silver details with eyes and fingers because it is beautiful and you have finally found all the places your prince could possibly hide. With your relief you should have considered how to hide from him. The door flies open with too little forewarning for you to dodge and stops just short of knocking you across an already throbbing temple. Bakugou emerges in an air of tempest.
“Knew it,” he crackles like you are exactly who he was looking for and is wholly aggravated by it, “you’re fucking fired, get back in bed.”
He is wearing fine silks from Aldera and their golden fixtures and tassels stop your heart. His hair is soft tonight. It is pushed back with a jeweled comb so that pointed fringes fall barely over his eyes while medals and brooches pin silk in a bunch at the shoulder of his gambeson. He looks more like a general ready for war than a guest in a seashell castle.
The prince simmers, “We’re planning the ball not a coup, I don’t need a sentinel.” And squints when you don’t budge, eyes unfocused. He tuts his head in the direction you came, “Rest. Now.”
“Yes Majesty– Highness,” you snap and reach for a pair of passing maids who squeak when they can’t get past the Alderans fast enough to hide, “one of you, fetch me a chair.”
“Belay that,” he growls and they squeak again, “you’re a fucking handful.”
Bakugou pauses on you for three seconds and rolls his eyes before turning back inside to address someone, “Please continue without me,” with a voice you’ve never heard before.
When your prince walks you back to your bedroom he steers you from just slightly behind and at the exact angle you would use to escort a prisoner to the Hold. The only signs from him are in the thick of his black trousers beside your own legs or a sleeve ushering you up a staircase. When your breathing becomes obvious he slows pace. If you lean the wrong direction his head dips down close to glare and guide you with a trail of smoke. He’s only this quiet when he’s thinking.
What’s the time? Stars twinkle at the highest points of the castle lined with your torches and tall windows.
“Ahead,” Bakugou murmurs and waves you forward with an open palm to the red doors around the bend. Your own corner of Takoba. You don’t remember the night that you came here. You don’t remember anything past, ‘I hate you.’
The prince clears his throat to answer your unvoiced question, “Shuzenji arranged it. Told the queen you needed a fireplace.” He walks clear through the logical spot to stop and leave you on your own for the evening, and marches right beside you to the doors. Add the doctor to your tour of thank yous and apologies.
“I told that shit guard not to leave you alone. You’re gods' perfect little flight risk.”
It would be easier to stand close together if you still brimmed with unbridled fury. You drift beside him, too tired for any strong feelings one way or another. He does not hint at eruption. Your prince only grumbles and watches to make sure you step fully inside after pushing down the door’s silver handle.
The wave of hot air inside is a cushion at the end of what should have been a simple journey and instead knocked the four winds out of you. They were telling the truth, you must have been fighting something for days. It could be midnight, it could be dusk, your body cannot tell the time past its fatigue. There’s one more thing you have to do before you can give it what it wants.
“Kirishima’s coming to morning meetings tomorrow. I don’t need you both,” the prince speaks awkwardly loud like the thought came out too fast. He is telling you to rest.
“Yes, sir.”
“Wait for summons.”
He’s asking you to trust him.
“Yes sir.” You are too tired to lace the words with instigation and so Bakugou does not flinch like you like him to do when you call him sir. You turn away from the white warmth, fine cushions and curtains and fireplace, back to His Highness still stood stubbornly under your doorway. His headpiece glistens in the moonlight.
You will be his Captain and you are not too good for a borrowed pair of greaves. You do not hate him. He can be the first stop on your tour.
Weary in your own little world and surrounded finally by fire, you steady your hands at your side and bend to take a knee. Forgive my…lots of things. “I’m–”
But Bakugou reacts again faster than you can fall. He jerks forward and catches you by both shoulders with his spark-leathered hands. The the last creature alive that can still startle you, not with his hold or speed, not with his magic, but his eyes. He stares through you in distress behind a pinched and stormy gaze. Spilled wine.
“Do not.” His voice rumbles through his touch. He pulls you up to standing and does not back away. Each hint his shoulders give promises that he will close any gap you try to make and so you do not move. He’s warm, his ears are red. Bakugou reaches between the gold clasps of his tunic and pulls out his fist for you to puzzle over in the few seconds it takes him, first to breathe, and then to open his hand.
One tiny sun, no bigger than an apple seed and polished to its core, twinkles like a spark on his palm.
He makes fine magic for you, he always has and you’ve never known it. He breathes again, “I. I’m..”
And you don’t mean to startle him, touch or stop him, but you do all three in rapid succession. Your hand jumps to his mouth because you don’t know how else to stop the birth of a star. You’re not ready for an apology.
His eyes mirror yours in their paralysis, his cloudy, yours panicked. His lips are damp. They part against your skin for a moment as he breathes once more deeply. As he closes his eyes– breathes you in. As you contend with the pulse of his tongue one last shock away from tasting the salt between your fingers. He is soft here. Here and when he wraps his own hand around your knuckles to disarm you. He does not let go when he lowers your hand, he does not let go after tucking the sun into your palm and closing your fist around it. Just for a moment.
Infinity is what exists in the void that replaced your fury and tonight it is full of fruit. Bruising peaches. Falling plums. Sneaking dinner under the Oak to watch his twinkling magic and to hide from crowds. Never questioning why students who told ghost stories about the child soldier never dared to bother you. Ignoring the peculiarity of Jeanist taking only one apprentice.
Inside, your expertly timed fire eats itself up in the silence and collapses to break the trance.
Immediately Bakugou dips away. He pulls back like you were the one holding him in place and leaves you briskly with his heart in your hands. He shakes his head and barks like a startled dog and does not look behind him, “Another time.”
The fire giggles and spits out embers. He hurries down the hallway because something in him died at sea to save you.
As you jump and skitter inside to the smell of smoldering rugs, your brooch and earring lay side by side where you toss them and leave them and try to sleep despite them, safe on the green velvet chaise.
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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @mecuryxmoonstone @onlysarcasm @ilovemushroomss @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1 @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl @keli-pie @dreamingoftomorrow @optimisticprime3 @misscaller06 @the-omnipotent-phlowr @definitely-notalissa
#i am so excited to enter into part iii- the last part!- with you all :')#theories thoughts rambles and analysis always welcome--never ever annoying#theres only one more turn this relationship can take#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bnha fantasy au#mha fantasy au#fantasy bakugou#fantasy bakugo#thank you for being a part of this adventure with me#a hymn to black water
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The Next Generation Part 3 Chapter 10
The story of Albus Potter, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, and the countless adventure’s they get into in there years at Hogwarts.
To start reading from the beginning click here: http://littlemissnack.tumblr.com/tagged/fanfiction
Here is the fanfiction link if you would prefer to read it on there: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9303697/1/The-Next-Generation
And AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/807773
Or if you prefer to read it on here, here you go:
And Movellas: https://www.movellas.com/story/201309292252551812-the-next-generation
After Sienna’s revelation the gang had began exploring the edges of the forbidden forest in hopes of find Morana. After Albus reminded everybody about the man that had attacked him for his ‘mistress’ it became clear to the group that they were servants of Morana. Rose devised a careful schedule that allowed for Albus and Thalia to spend as much time as possible on the journal and her, Scorpius & Sienna to patrol the edges of the forest in case there were any more trespassers. Rose had everybody’s day scheduled down to the minute in order to allow time for examining the journal, patrolling the borders of the grounds, classes, homework, food (with the unfortunate sacrifice of certain meals a day) and a few hours of sleep a night. At first Albus thought this to be completely over the top but when he found himself barely awake in his 3pm potions class with no clue whether he had a free period for journal study in the common room, quidditch practice or his allotted eating time he found himself thankful for Rose’s colour coded schedule.
As the looming celebrations got closer and closer Albus became more and more thankful for the welcome distraction from thinking about, what felt to Albus, a glorified press conference with his parents Infront of the entire school. Rose on the other hand had gone into full planning mode, preparing her outfit, preparation interview questions for when the paparazzi inevitably hounded her and various poses and outfits to be photographed in on top of all her other commitments. Rose often prided herself in her time management skills and wonders how she’d cope with being the daughter of the minister of magic without it. Scorpius wasn’t worried about the upcoming events however, as he had already planned his escape to the room of requirement as soon as the inevitable questions about his death eater father came. at least he didn’t have to worry about his father being there like Albus did, it was clear his father wasn’t welcome here.
With Albus and Thalia completely preoccupied with journal deciphering in their free time and Rose in full on preparation mode without a moment to spare, Scorpius found himself left with Sienna often. Scorpius held nothing against Sienna, but he hadn’t spent an awful lot of time with Sienna, of course they’d had their group meetings together, but she was mostly focused on Albus during this time and they hadn’t really been alone a lot. But now with Rose’s scheduling system it meant that Scorpius, Sienna and Rose rotated patrol in pairs, so Scorpius had many hours now patrolling with just Sienna, which Scorpius found were the quietest times. When he patrolled with Rose she almost couldn’t seem to shut up, discussing theories as well as their upcoming homework and exams came naturally with Rose, it was easy for Scorpius to talk to her. But Sienna and he had little to talk about, every now and again one of them would attempt small talk but it never got far, that is until the particularly hot summers day the day before the celebration when Scorpius and Sienna were patrolling in between there care of magical creatures and Ancient Runes exams. As they were approaching the boating house Sienna unexpectedly turned to him in another attempt to make small talk and asked,
“Excited for tomorrow?” Scorpius could see it was just another attempt to make their patrol more exciting but as with all their attempts at conversation, they had little to talk about.
“I’m not going, I’ll make a quick appearance, watch Albus’ Dads’ speech then I’ll head up to the room of requirement for the rest.” Sienna’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion as they sat down on the boat house steps as Rose instructed them to do while patrolling the perimeter.
“Why? Everyone’s talking about how epic it’s going to be. There’s supposed to the grandest feast hogwarts has ever seen, and I saw Harlow setting up the quidditch pitch earlier so you know there’s going to be some kind of contest, and Penny swears she overheard Longbottom and Hart discussing a fireworks display…” Sienna rambled to try to fill the silence but was quietened by Scorpius’ response.
“And a bunch of press. Forget the feast, the only thing we know for certain that will be there are press. I don’t really feel like getting a camera shoved in my face and being asked if I’m a death eater, or if my father approves of my Gryffindor lifestyle, or where my mother is” Sienna was quieted for a moment before smiling slightly and asking.
“Don’t know why they’d bother asking you that when your scandalous love affairs are far more interesting! Who wants to read about politics and death eaters when you could read about a torrid affair between you and Rose and Albus!” Scorpius snorted as he laughed with her for the first time in what felt like a long time.
“Me, Rose and Albus!?”
“Oh, come on! You know that slimy Rita Skeeter been all over you, Rose and Albus’ friendship since you all started Hogwarts, it’s only a matter of time before she starts reporting about how your breaking Rose’s heart with your romantic rendezvous’ with Albus!” Sienna held her arms out as if she were imagining a newspaper title “I can see it now ‘Malfoy caught with Potter in a secret shameful love affair breaking Weasley’s heart!’” Scorpius was laughing down to his core now, desperately trying to catch him breath as he and Sienna were nearly doubled over in stitches.
“Oi you’d better watch it tomorrow, if you get caught with Albus you’ll be the Slytherin temptress ruining his heroic Destiny” Scorpius countered making Sienna almost choke with laughter. As the continued to imagine various newspaper headline and the imaginary stories the press would run with them it was 17 minutes after there expected leave time from there post that Sienna and Scorpius finally calmed down and realised how late they were. As they began walking along the lake Sienna turned to Scorpius to ask,
“You can’t let the rubbish they write effect you. None of what they write matters. You’re a good person and you’ve got friends that have your back and that’s all that matters, not the way a bunch of idiots who hang onto the Daily Prophet’s every word sees you as. You should come tomorrow, have fun.” Scorpius was thrown by Sienna’s profound insight and was once again reminded of how much of a mystery she was to him.
“Thanks. But It’s not so much the fact that the press will be there but the fact that it’s just another reminder of who’s not.” Scorpius looked down at his feet as he tried to regain his composure.
“Look I know what it’s like to get constantly reminded of what you don’t have, believe me I get it. But at some point you have to stop focusing on the fact that you don’t have a mum and focus on the fact that you’ve got us, stop fixating how you don’t have a dad and remember that you have Teddy and the Weasley. You could spend your entire life feeling jealous of what you don’t have but you’ll never be able to appreciate everything you do. At some point parents stop mattering as much as having a support system around you to call family. Couse we’re each other’s family now, you, me Rose, Albus & Thalia were a family, we’ve got each other’s backs. So yeah, your parents aren’t there but who needs them!? Your family will be there with you.” Scorpius studied Sienna’s firm expression and it became clear that this talk wasn’t just for him.
“Are your parents not coming either?” Scorpius tentatively asked, he knew how well prying into Sienna’s private life usually went.
“Don’t have any. Care home kid.” She responded he pace quickening, so she was slightly ahead of him.
“Oh…. I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
“Don’t be sorry, can’t miss what you never had.”
“But you can miss the idea of it. The idea of that perfect family life you always imagined having, parents to come home too in their little cosy house, you can miss the idea of a family without ever actually having one.” Scorpius thought about all the times he’d imagined what it would be like to live in a simple little cottage with his parents tucking him in and reading him stories and healing scraped knees. The memory of all those nights spent wondering still stung Scorpius today. Sienna’s face softened as she allowed Scorpius to catch up with her and Scorpius wondered if she too and stayed up at night imagining what a real family might feel like.
“Yeah not having parents sucks. Especially on days like tomorrow when you look around at everyone with the perfect happy little families and wonder why you don’t get to have that. And as much as I like Albus seeing the way he complains about his parents just makes me want to rip his head off…”
“It’s like he doesn’t even realise how lucky he is! He has a mum and a dad that just want to love and care for him and he doesn’t even appreciate it!” Scorpius interrupted finishing Sienna’s thought.
“Exactly! I can’t even listen when he’s in his whiny complain about his dad mode! Like he expects us to feel sorry for him because his dad loves him too much!” Sienna rolled her eyes.
“I thought you liked Albus?” Scorpius dared to be brave now that Sienna’s guard was lowering to try and figure out more about what was going on with Sienna and Albus.
“I do.” Sienna saw the analysis on Scorpius’ face and raised her eyebrow in defiance. “Just because he’s cute doesn’t mean I can’t also find him annoying, I thought you and freckles would understand that blondie!” Sienna smirked.
“Rose… no… we’re not... I mean...” Scorpius looked over at Sienna’s smug face and realised how pointless denial would be at this point. “Rose doesn’t think of me like that.” Scorpius sighed in defeat.
“Rose doesn’t think of anybody like that right now. She’s so wrapped up in organising and scheduling and schoolwork to see anything else. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings though.” Scorpius tried to hide the optimism in his face, but he judged by Sienna’s smirk that he hadn’t done a great job.
“So, if you think Albus is so cute why haven’t you made your move yet?” Scorpius countered to try to let the blush in his face go down.
“Same reason you’re not making your move on freckles. He’s too busy with that stupid journal and Thalia to take a second look at me right now.” Sienna noticed the look of silent judgement on Scorpius’ face and her eyebrows knitted together in frustration. “What!?”
“Oh, come on! That’s such a load of rubbish!” Sienna opened her mouth to protest but Scorpius cut her off before she could even continue.
“If you’re so wise about MY love life, you tell me mister know it all why haven’t I told him yet?” Scorpius studied her face for a moment, challenge and defiance written all over it.
“You’re scared. You’re scared he might turn you down. You’re scared of letting someone in, only to have your heart shattered. You’re not holding back because he’s so busy, you’re holding back because he’s been so busy with Thalia. Your worried that you might tell him how you feel only to have him reject you for Thalia. You can act as tough as you want but your just as scared of rejection as the rest of us!” Sienna was stunned into silence for half a moment before taking a deep breath and raising his hand ready to object but as Scorpius looked at her with his eyebrow raised in challenge, Sienna realised it was pointless, after all the stuff she’d already said to Scorpius today what was one more secret. So, against her better judgement Sienna sighed as her body deflated. No words seemed to be able to leave her mouth as Scorpius met her eyes and all the was able to do was shrug.
“it’s okay to let yourself be open with him. You may get your heart broken, you may not, but the important thing is you tried. You gave it a shot which means you won’t spend your life wondering what could have happened. It’s okay to let yourself be vulnerable every now and again. You don’t have to keep this guard up.” Scorpius placed his hand on her shoulder as he sat next to her against the quidditch pitch which was there next designated post on patrol. Scorpius thought Sienna might cry he’d never seen her show this much emotion. Sienna seemed incapable of words as she feared the second, she opened her mouth her body might betray her, and the tears may fall instead.
“I mean if you never give it a shot, you’ll never get to be the slytherin temptress pulling him away from his torrid love affair with me! What will the papers write about then!” Sienna couldn’t help but laugh as a few tears escaped down her cheeks and she quickly brushed them away.
“You’re such a hypocrite Blondie! You’re telling me what to do when your too cowardly to tell Freckles you dream about her every night!” Sienna rolled her eyes trying her best to deflect from the heavy stuff Scorpius had said that was still sitting in her chest.
“Hey! That makes me sound like a lovesick puppy… I’m not that desperate…” Sienna raised a knowing eyebrow, Scorpius started to protest before letting out a big groan. “I’m pretty pathetic, aren’t I?”
“Pretty pathetic? You’re a mess!” Sienna and Scorpius laughed.
“She’s just so driven, especially with everything going on lately… I just don’t want it to get in the way for her…” Sienna rolled her eyes in disbelieve
“Dude! You gotta toughen up! Rose Weasley is a headstrong badass, that girl will eat you alive if you don’t Gryffindor up! Freckles needs someone who can’t be bossed around by her. She needs someone to bring her back when she goes to far and push her when she starts to doubt herself, if your gunna stop pining after her and start being with her your gunna have to be brave enough to stop letting her tell you what to do all the time! If I recall in first year you didn’t take any of her bossy stuff, what happened to that?” Scorpius thought back to first year for a moment, how frustratingly stubborn Rose had been and how he’d stuck his ground against it. It was different then; she wasn’t like she was now… or maybe he wasn’t. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something had changed.
“It was different back then…”
“Look do you want to be Rose Weasley’s boyfriend?”
“Yes” Scorpius reluctantly admitted
“Then you need to stop letting her treat you like your little pet and make her realise you’re here and a viable option. And that starts with telling her how you feel, even if she’s too busy to hear it. Put yourself out there.” Scorpius realised she was right as he thought back to the many times he’d put her first without even thinking of his own feelings, now was the one time he needed to think about himself and stop thinking about whether it inconvenienced Rose and tell her how he felt.
“I will if you will.” Scorpius challenged. Sienna read his face for a moment realising how serious he was.
“Okay fine. By the end of the summer, I’ll tell Albus if you tell Rose.”
“Deal.” Scorpius and Sienna shook hands and for the first time Scorpius wondered how he and Sienna had avoided properly talking up until now. She felt like the first person to really be able to understand what he was going through; he felt a kinship with Sienna he hadn’t felt with anybody else. Maybe this was what it felt like to have a sister, someone to always have your back even when she’d constantly annoying you.
“Come on Blondie, if we waste anymore time Freckles is going to have us hung, drawn and quartered by the school gates!”
“I don’t get it! Why do you keep calling me Blondie, your blonde too!” Scorpius finally spoke up about the question that had been bugging him since he met her. Sienna laughed as he leant up to put her arm around his shoulder and rustle his hair.
“I have my reasons, not that you’ll ever find them out, Blondie.”
The next morning the Hogwarts ground became entirely unrecognizable almost over night. Banners, streamers & balloons had filled the grounds, the quidditch pitch had been transformed into a competition and entertainment ground with a duelling ground on the one side, a wizard on a pedestal doing various transfiguration tricks to an impressed group of children, a flying display from the English national quidditch team and various other attractions, mainly designed to keep the large number of young children and teenagers occupied. Between the pitch and the castle a multitude of tables of covered in every food and drink known to man had been prepared, thousands of blanket and sun blocking umbrellas had been set out next to it for families to sit and eat the prepared food in a picnic style. At the base grounds of the castle a podium had been set up ready for the number of speakers the ministry had managed to procure, highlights included the opening speech by Minister for magic herself, Hermione Granger, a message on the importance of preserving Hogwarts by former headmistress Minerva McGonagall and a most anticipated inspirational speech from the man himself, Harry Potter. A number of benches had been set up between Hagrid’s hut and the Herbology green houses to view the speeches, Headmaster Harlow had tried to place some under the Whomping willow but the tree had simply swatted them away until they simply gave up trying and moved the benches just out of the trees reach. Many local businesses had set up stalls for people to sample and buy their products in the designated stall area by the lake reaching around to the boating house. By far the most exciting though was the huge preparation area along the right-side of the lake where a multitude of fireworks were being set up for what was sure to be a fantastic closing display.
As Albus watched the mass crowds began to seep through the mass security set up at the gates. He knew he wouldn’t be catching a glimpse of his father among the crowd, oh no. His father would already be in headmaster’s office. Both his Father and Rose’s Mother were far to important to be let in with the rest of the crowds, they’d likely be preparing their speech in there already. Albus was thankful when all the other boys in his dorm room had began to filter out so he could enjoy at least a few moments peace before he had to meet his father and play perfect son again. As Albus buttoned up his smartest maroon shirt and dark blue jeans he couldn’t help but wonder how it felt to just have a normal family. Not to have a hundred photos taken of him or every watching and listen to him as he spoke to his dad. But just to be able to simply be with his dad like any other normal kid. But he wasn’t any normal kid and his dad wasn’t a normal dad, he was a Potter. He learnt long ago that came with sacrifices when it came to the press. As Albus did up his shoelaces Rose stuck her head through the door.
“Are you still not ready! Professor Harlow was very clear that we were to be in his office at EXACTLY 9am! Come on!” Albus quickly finished his shoelaces and examined his hair in the mirror, desperately trying to get it to lie flat, if it lay flat maybe he’d look a little bit less like him… but just his luck even his hair failed him. Eventually he gave up and turned to follow Rose who Albus couldn’t help but noticed looked perfect for the occasion. Rose’s hair looked neater than he’d ever seen it Albus wondered how long it had taken her to get it to fall flat in the twisted bun behind her head. Albus hadn’t seen Rose in makeup before at least not that he’d ever noticed. Her eyes had a hint of blue eye shadow behind and her peach lip gloss was undeniable. Albus hadn’t been aware till now that Rose even had her ears pierced but the blue studs in her ears looked lovely next to her sapphire sun dress. As he came closer, he noticed she seemed taller, almost the same size of him now and he realised she was wearing heels. He hadn’t seen Rose in formal wear before, he was used to her jumpers and tights he supposed he shouldn’t have been that surprised but she looked so comfortable in her formal wear that Albus was painfully reminded of how much more she fit into this famous parent world than he did. Everything about Rose exuded the daughter of the minister of magic whereas nothing about Albus screamed son of a famous hero. As he and Rose met up with their siblings and headed towards the office a looming sense of dread filled into Albus’ gut. As they opened the doors Albus was first greeted by his mother in her tight green dress who gave him a hug. Albus found his mother was a lot easier to deal with than his father most of the time, but events like this often reminded Albus that his mother was also a famous quidditch player as well as a war hero, meaning she was just another person for Albus to let down. As his mother straightened his brother’s shirt and brushed off his sister’s skirt, she talked the three of them through various things the press might ask them and what to say and what not say. Albus tried to focus but all Albus could focus on was the mounting tension filling in his gut. In a few moments he’d step out there and thousands of pictures would be taken all day of him and his parents and if he didn’t do everything just right they’d all be discussing how he was the disappointment of the family again, no matter what his mother was telling him Albus knew there was only one rule today, don’t be himself. No one wanted him today they wanted the perfect little image they’d created of Harry Potter’s son and he needed to be that, or he’d disappoint everyone. The all too familiar buzzing filled Albus’ ears as his thoughts flooded with all the things he had to do and say to make sure everything he did was what they all wanted. Suddenly Albus was brought out of his spiralling thoughts by his fathers’ hand on his shoulder.
“You doing okay bud?” Harry looked down at his youngest son. Albus gently nodded. “Should be a fun day all in all.” His father stared out of the window listening to the gathering masses outside.
Albus couldn’t help but think about how easy it was for his father to go out there and make all the public appearances and still have fun doing it. Albus couldn’t enjoy a day filled with worrying about what everyone else was going to think about him or print about him, how could he do it all so easily? The speeches, the press, being that heroic person, they all wanted to see. Of course, it was easy for him Albus thought, he’s not pretending like I am, that’s just who he is, none of this is me.
“Is Uncle Charlie coming today dad?” Lily asked as she came up next to Albus. Harry was brought away from his thoughts and looked down at his daughter with a smile.
“Of course! He’s the one in charge of the dragon they’ve got opposite the greenhouses.” Lily’s face immediately lit up and Harry chucked as he watched his daughter’s immediate excitement.
“Look guys, if nothing else please just remember this, just be on your best behaviour and remember your representing not just yourself but all of us today… that means you James! I don’t want to deal with another junior marauders prank today, especially not Infront of all this press!” Ginny’s strict expression turned towards her eldest child who smiled wickedly at her.
“Wouldn’t dream of it mum!” James laughed at Ginny’s narrowed eyes.
Albus once again wondered how the thought of representing the ultimate war hero didn’t absolutely terrify his siblings the way it made him almost want to vomit. He noticed Rose and Hugo talking with there mother on the other side of the room and wondered if they were getting a similar speech or if aunt Hermione and uncle Ron just knew that Rose and Hugo would be perfect representations of them.
“It’s time” Professor Harlow gently tapped Aunt Hermione’s shoulder and Albus took a deep breath knowing what that meant… time for the charade to begin.
Thalia was excitedly showing her parents and little sister Violet around the school, and with Albus and Rose preoccupied with their parents, Scorpius had no choice but the find a bench and sit alone waiting for the opening speech, that was until Sienna sat down next to him.
“This seat taken?” Scorpius gestured for her to sit down and smiled over, realising that she wasn’t just making sure he wasn’t alone, she was making sure she wasn’t alone either. Scorpius’ smile faulted as he caught sight of a figure behind her in a smart coat, a coat Scorpius recognised, as the stranger turned to face him Scorpius was left to wonder, why on earth his father was here.
As Thalia sat Violet on her knee while the minister gave her speech on the importance of coming together as a community. she was reminded of how amazing magic had felt to her at 6 years old too, the wonder in Violets eyes reminded her of the first time she’d seen hogwarts.
“Balloon!” Violet shouted in excitement as she caught sight of a bunch of green, red, yellow and blue balloons meant to represent all the hogwarts houses. As Thalia watched her almost jump out of her arms pointing at the balloons she smiled.
“Go on then, go get one” She resigned herself much to her 6-year-old sister’s joy. Thalia placed her onto the ground and watched her run off to man nearly handing out the balloons to the children. Thalia glanced up to see Rose solemnly stood by her mothers’ side and was realised how well Rose fit into the role of minister’s daughter, her put together demeaner made her perfect for the role. Thalia made a mental note to remember to introduce her parents to Rose, it would be nice for them to see she had some friends here.
Thalia glanced back over to see if Violet had selected her balloon yet and her heart skipped a beat as she realised, she couldn’t see her anymore.
After her mother’s speech Rose had taken multiple photos for the press and answered some of there questions, after which she had some time to enjoy the day. She, Hugo and their parents had enjoyed a lovely lunch on one of the picnic blankets before entering the stadium, formerly the quidditch pitch. Rose knew how anxious these public events made her younger brother, so she resolved to keep him close to allow her to step in if needs be with any pushy photographer or rude interviewer. As Rose was taking note of the fantastic quidditch display and remarking to her father how much more remarkable it would be if they’d got the Chuddley canons, her and her fathers’ favourite team. Rose felt her arm being tugged away. She looked up to find a particularly star eyed woman who’d just snapped a photo of her.
“Rose! What’s your opinion on your mothers new law allowing the recognition of centaur land rights?” As Rose gave her standard rehearsed answer, she got hounded with more an more questions, each one she tried to answer with the same composure, she’d practiced this after all Rose noticed her family had moved on and quickly excused herself. It wasn’t long before she found her fathers familiar orange hair and re-joined them. Only to notice one significant member missing, her brother Hugo.
“What are you doing here!” Scorpius hissed, after the speech he’d excused himself from Sienna and made his way over to the bench his father was sitting on alone. He had managed to gain significant attention; it was hard for Scorpius not to hear the whispering as people stared at them.
“There are no restrictions on who can attend this event, and as a father of a pupil at the school I felt it my place to…” Draco failed to meet the desperation in his sons’ eyes willing him to be anywhere else.
“It’s NOT your place!” Scorpius tried not to raise his voice so as not to attract anymore onlookers.
“Scorpius, you don’t talk to me like that!” The all too familiar firmness filled Draco’s voice mixed with a hint of surprise at having his son speak back to him.
“I will speak to you however I want. Go home father. This is a celebration, a day of remembrance and joy and your presence here is unwelcome” Draco looked down his nose at Scorpius meeting his eyes for the first time.
“You haven’t been home…” Draco began changing the subject Scorpius quickly cut him off.
“I’m staying with extended family. Now why are you here.” Scorpius met his father’s eyes with a fierce defiance his father didn’t recognise in him. There was a hint of pride in his face that filled Scorpius with hatred.
“I’m just as entitled to be here as anyone else. Are you going to join me in seeing the activities of the day?” Scorpius’ body filled with disgust; this was a press opportunity for him. A chance to parade his son around to show their family paying their respects and making amends, except he didn’t mean any of it.
“No. This may just be a chance to be seen for you, but it actually means something to those people who fought in the battle, lost people… how could you use that as a publicity scheme!”
“I…” Scorpius cut him off by walking away. It made him sick to his stomach to stay there a moment longer, he looked out to try to find Sienna but found she’d left her seat at there previous bench and saw trace of her.
As lunch time began to approach Albus mentally congratulated himself for making it through half the day without breaking. He’d smiled for all the photos, answered all the questions and withstood all the stares. But as he stood in the transfiguration yard with his father and brother listening to his father rehearse his speech Albus knew his real challenge would be in the next few minutes. Getting through his dads’ speech without breaking would easily be his hardest task, luckily, he was saved from his downwards thoughts by his mother’s abrupt entrance to the courtyard that had stopped his father in his tracks.
“Any sign of her?” Harry asked Ginny, fiddling with his cue cards out of habit.
“Nothing! Last I saw her she went to see Charlie and the dragon, but Charlie said she wandered off, I can’t seem to find her. We’ll just have to do it without her!” Ginny sighed. Lily’s frequent wondering trips had often been a point of annoyance with his parents.
“Oh, Merlin it’ll look awful if it’s just the boys, I can see the headlines now, they’ll say we’re neglecting her!” Harry argued, Ginny sympathetically met her eyes.
“You’re on in 2 minutes there’s not a lot we can do. Hopefully she’ll turn up, but you know what Lily’s like! What else can we do?” Albus’ wondered what adventure his sister was having this time and as his parents discussed their options Albus’ couldn’t help himself but wonder towards the window and glance out at the crowd. Wondering where his sister had disappeared off too this time.
#fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#Harry Potter#harry potter next generation#harry potter 3rd generation#Albus Severus Potter#James Sirius Potter#lily luna potter#rose weasley#hugo weasley#roxanne weasley#Fred Weasley II#molly weasley II#lucy weasley#victoire weasley#dominique weasley#louis weasley#teddy lupin#scorpius malfoy
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A Somewhat Skewed Guide to Listening to Taylor Swift
I wrote this for a friend a year ago who was interested in getting into Taylor Swift and had no idea where to start - this is by no means a formal review, but a casual personal overview on Taylor Swift that I thought would be amusing to post here.
Warning: unfiltered, unedited rambling :’D
Disclaimer: I confess I’m not familiar with 100% of her discography (I usually don’t listen to the bonus tracks/know all of her standalones)
Note: I will be going in chronological order of her discography even though that’s not how my journey through her stuff went
Taylor Swift (2006)
don’t listen to this if you actually hate country music bc this is defs more on the country side of her country-pop crossover (mandolins, banjos, thankfully no annoying vocal twang)
this album is a great insight to her roots as a songwriter but it’s best enjoyed if you already like her, it’s like peeking into the old diary of someone you admire
Picture to Burn - hilarious breakup song trash talking an ex about how his pickup truck is stupid (you think I’m kidding but I’m not), video is awesome and shows her band trashing his house. I once sang this at karaoke and my friend fucking died and she didn’t believe the lyrics were actually a T Swift song
Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) - a really pretty, sappy gem about a long term love
everything else I could take or leave tbh
Fearless (2008)
tbh I still don’t “get” this album bc it’s a bit immature for my tastes but I’m sure young teen me would have loved it if it came out then. But overall I feel like this album only disappoints me bc her later work is so much better. Otherwise it’s actually pretty great
Fearless - the title song for good reason, appropriate way to begin the album and starts off with the attitude of facing love with a, you guessed it, fearless outlook
Love Story - ok the Romeo & Juliet ref and the sappy lyrics are kinda cringeworthy but overlooking that it is probably one of her most well-written pop songs to date in terms of the melody, arrangement, catchiness etc and I will always have a soft spot in my heart for this
Breathe (feat. Colbie Caillat) - understated soft, sad pretty track
Forever and Always - I really love the melody in this one and the mentions of rain. This feels like the precursor to Mine (off Speak Now), except the relationship in the song didn’t actually work out
Change - notably NOT about relationships but about looking forward to positive changes and winning in life whatnot. It’s uplifting and I see it as the prequel to Long Live (from Speak Now)
everything else is not bad but doesn’t quite make my favs like this list. shoot me but I find Fifteen and You Belong With Me way overrated
Speak Now (2010)
supposedly before writing this album Swift wanted to go with the concept “Enchanted” (which is one of the songs as well) but her label told her she needed to show she was maturing and not make an album that was basically Fearless 2.0 so she opted for the idea of “Speak Now”, which is total (sometimes brutal) honesty
This album does indeed speak her mind, in the sad, happy, and even embarrassing ways (coughs the title track is about her fantasizing about crashing her ex’s wedding and stealing him away and makes comments about how the bride’s gown looks like a pastry)
Before Red, Swift released a lot of singles w/ multiple versions, usually a US (read: more country) and international (read: more pop/rock) one.
IMO, the singles on Speak Now (Mine, Back to December, Story of Us) sound way, way better on the international edition. So please try to find those versions!
Mine - please check out the international version it’s miles better than the US version (more driving rhythm/urgency, better guitar riff, the US version is too laid back IMO)
Sparks Fly - a song about undeniable chemistry, the chorus is one of my favs
Back to December - slow, sad, and beautiful. I almost cried over this. I prefer this to Dear John bc it’s not as brutal and more accessible (Dear John is great too but really hard to listen to that often). Again international version is better bc the mandolin part in the US version is annoying.
Mean - kind of childish but that’s why I love it, it’s the pop song equivalent of a kid sticking their tongue out at their bullies on the playground
The Story of Us - not as emotionally wrenching as a lot of the other breakup songs but probably the catchiest and I love the beat
Enchanted - love at first sight type song. I really like the song structure (especially how it builds up) and instrumentation, and the bridge stanza is my favorite
Better Than Revenge - T Swift doing Paramore
Innocent - T Swift doing Evanescence, also I think that song was a jab back at Kanye West lmfao
Long Live - song about taking on the world, proving ppl wrong, having great adventures, I wish I could someday feel worthy of singing this song
the one dud IMO is Never Grow Up (it’s kinda boring plus I think she was too young to write well from the perspective of a parent).
Red (2012)
This was THE album that converted me to the cult of Swift and I hope it converts you too
I confess I only really noticed the beauty of Speak Now bc I went back and listened to it properly after I got tired of spinning Red during my commute
Fun fact: I only bothered to give this album a try after my white hipster bestie (whom I had a huge gross crush on at the time) rec’d it and I was like wtf at first but he was like no really give it a shot, so I did.
Red is every bit as honest as Speak Now but it’s not as bitter or playful it’s more sad and resigned and more nostalgic, wistful, you get it...
It’s painful for me to rec my favs from it bc I’d say the ENTIRE FUCKING ALBUM but I’ll. try. /grits teeth
State of Grace - those drums! that guitar! that whole “we’re on a journey and it’s beginning” feel… this is her strongest album opening track to date (1989 totally bombed in that aspect, fuck Welcome to New York)
Red - I don’t know how a song has literally 2 unique melody lines but still manages to be so amazing. Unfair.
Treacherous - the whole excitement of falling in love with someone that you probably shouldn’t but presented in an unexpectedly tender way
All Too Well - by this point Swift has a trend of making song #5 the sad slow ballad (it’s a thing her fans have noticed). This song hits me hard on a personal level bc it reminds me of my 2.5 year relationship that ended and it’s incredibly well-written, from the lyrics reminiscing on the past to taking you back into that moment during the choruses, also the bridge just breaks me. This is probably the pinnacle of sad breakup songs and you cannot convince me otherwise
I Almost Do - All Too Well’s more timid but no less heartbreaking cousin
Holy Ground - this is kind of the banner song of the album despite not being the title track. While Red is meant to set the backdrop for this album’s themes, this song embodies the core of the album best IMO. And it has a danceable beat to boot.
Sad Beautiful Tragic - I used to skip this a lot after Holy Ground bc it’s a bit of a downer but it has an understated beauty
Starlight - want to see Swift write fanfiction? well here’s your chance. This song is about Ethel and Bobby Kennedy as teenagers. also embarrassing confession: I want to sing this at my own wedding if I ever get married someday. Best part is the piano line that evokes twinkling stars
I’m rather indifferent to the big pop singles in this album (I Knew You Were Trouble, 22, We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. They’re good but, ultimately the best stuff is the album tracks)
1989 (2014)
the album that converted a lot of pop lovers to the cult of Swift
shows a lot of growth and experimentation since Red, but Red is still personally my favorite, this one’s a close second tho
Swift has said in interviews that Red was a devastating album to write but 1989 is more about moving on from that and focusing on herself and it’s overall both more optimistic (regarding life in general) and calculated and cynical (regarding romance)
1989 is the year Swift was born, btw. Coincidentally the album has 13 tracks not counting the bonus ones and 13 is Swift’s favorite number (she was also born on Dec 13)
I have this whole conspiracy theory level of analysis going on about how this is a sequel to Red and how those two albums are linked in a way that the others aren’t
let’s get it out of the way, Welcome to New York is the obvious dud. sorry to our mutual friends who love NY but the song kind of sucks in itself oops. Like it’s very uninspired and generic
for an actual good song about NY check out Vienna Teng’s Goodnight New York
Blank Space - overplayed but I love the idea of Swift parodying what her critics think of her
Out of the Woods - it’s a song about uncertainty in a relationship and the ending is left up to interpretation and I love the repetitive chorus bc it illustrates the feeling of being trapped in the woods and seeing trees flash by you. The bridge has a personal anecdote (the brakes/stitches mentioned are from a minor snowmobile accident).
All You Had to Do Was Stay - about a dream Swift had where all she could do is say “stay” in a high pitched voice to an ex and it embarrassed her lol. Typical pining song but something about those “stays” sound way more painful than comical in practice.
Shake It Off - a good pick-me-up for the slow days and the only big single of hers I haven’t gotten utterly sick of
I Wish You Would - reminds me a lot of HAIM, and it’s oddly one song that I almost never skip when it comes up on my commute shuffle despite having heard every song on this album too many times. understated but solid.
Wildest Dreams - Swift doing Lana Del Rey better than Lana Del Rey
How You Get the Girl - cute but all I can think of is her cat in the Diet Coke commercial that used this song
This Love - I feel like this is the song tying the album together, it’s the most vulnerable track and the one flame of hope amidst all the jadedness that pervades the album regarding romance. It’s kind of meta in some way like it describes not only T Swift the character in the album but also possibly T Swift the person? This song is very important to me.
I Know Places - kind of a darker sound (for her)
Clean - a song about moving on from a relationship, I’m already biased towards this bc Imogen Heap worked on it but it’s really beautiful, and I love when Heap’s harmonies come in.
New Romantics - the freakin song of our generation, the lyrics are so fucking real I can’t even
misc/standalones
Safe and Sound (feat. the Civil Wars) - from the Hunger Games OST, it’s pure folk goodness
Sweeter than Fiction - the happy ending we all want. has a bit of a beach-rock vibe to it with a very 80s production
Ronan - written for a child who died from cancer, it’s beautiful and sad
Thank you for reading if you’ve even made it this far and I hope I didn’t overwhelm you, happy listening! :D
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