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georgie-weasley · 1 year

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Truth or Dare J.P. x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of lame dares, mention of James getting a bloody nose, anxiety, Sirius Black

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: young!James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You kept your secret crush on James, well, a secret. From everyone but Sirius that is. That was a big mistake as now he’s forcing everyone to play truth or dare. Not to mention everyone has taken some truth potion too

A/N: the song James sings is “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor

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The smirk on Sirius’s face was the only evidence you needed to know this was a horrible idea. There was a certain way his mouth would move when he came up with an idea that would end in some sort of disaster. Despite learning what this smirk looked like, you were never able to predict it before it happened. Usually, you noticed it much too late. Currently Sirius was smirking at you and you could practically see the gears working in his brain.

The afterparty the Gryffindor team had thrown to celebrate winning the Quidditch cup was finally winding down and you were sprawled out on the couch; the sound of conversations and the rain hitting the windows could have lulled you to sleep if it wasn’t for James. Your feet were resting on Sirius’s lap while your head was in James’s. His thumb was absentmindedly stroking your cheek as he carried on a conversation with Remus; the action sent butterflies to wreak havoc on your insides.

Sirius, who had only been watching the scene play out for a while, pinched your leg to get your attention. It was that action that caused you to look at him and see the terrifying smirk on his face. Months ago you made the mistake of confessing to Sirius about your crush on James. You hadn’t really meant to tell him since you thought you were just confessing to Remus but Sirius was the one who came in the empty classroom. You started spewing your feelings without looking to see exactly who came in. At least it wasn’t James.

But ever since then, Sirius made it a point to try and find a way to get you to admit your feelings for James to the man himself. You had him swear not to tell anyone, especially James and so far he’s followed his promise. Of course, you can never expect Sirius to keep his mouth shut for long.

“Everyone!” Sirius yelled and stood, shoving your feet off of him. “It’s time to play a little game of truth or dare, with a twist. Remus, it’s time.”

Remus abruptly ended the conversation with James and sprinted up the stairs to his dorm. As he came back down, he had a small vial in his hands and smirk that could almost rival Sirius on his face. He knew. After telling Sirius about your crush on James, you didn’t dare tell anyone else. It was bad enough that the biggest gossip in Hogwarts knew, no one else could know either. Except of course, Sirius told Remus; you were sure he told him because how else would he have known?

You weren’t sure if Peter or Lily knew but they soon proved they did when they also smirked at you. Did everyone but James know? You turned your head to risk looking at the boy that captured your heart but luckily he looked confused. You were safe, for now.

“What do you have Moons?” James asked, patting your arm a little before he helped you sit up.

“Yeah Moony, what’s in the vial?” Peter asked, nudging Lily with his elbow.

Remus looked you in the eye with a shit-eating grin. “Just a little potion Lily and I whipped up today.” He paused, no doubt for dramatic affect. “Veritaserum, the most powerful truth serum in the magical world.”

Sirius wandered over to Remus and plucked the potion from his hand. “Now any of you babies who pick truth over dare, won’t get away with a lie.”

At this, you scrambled off the couch and moved over to Sirius. “What are you doing? Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to Remus.” You hissed, grabbing his arm. “You can’t be serious.”

“Newsflash love, I am Sirius and I’ve given you plenty of chances to admit your feelings but you never did. Now, we’re forcing your hand. Get over it and play the game babes.” He patted your head much like you would do to a dog and gathered everyone to sit in a circle on the floor. You were sure that somewhere in his brain, Sirius was doing all of this to help. You never asked him to help but he wasn’t the type to just sit back and wait for things to happen. In some way, he thought this was the best way to help you, or you hoped that was the case.

You took a seat on the floor between Lily and Peter. Despite them also knowing about your feelings for James, you hoped they would be kinder. Remus moved around the circle and placed a single drop of the potion in everyone’s mouth. Once everyone, including himself had one, he sat down next to James who was across from you. “This is a safe group for Moony. Everyone here already knows about his hairy little problem.” Sirius smiled and turned to Peter. “Time to test the potion. Pete, what’s something you would never tell anyone?”

“I wet the bed until I was 10.” Peter answered quickly. Everyone was silent.

You patted his back and smiled. “Don’t worry Wormtail. It’s alright.”

Sirius nodded slowly before he cleared his throat. “Anyway, let’s start with James. Truth or dare?”

“Dare of course.” James rolled his eyes and leaned back on his elbows. He looked so cocky with the smirk on his face but he sure looked good.

“Lovely. I dare you to serenade Moony. Pick whatever song you’d like.”

James jumped to his feet immediately. “At first I was afraid, I was petrified. Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side.” He dropped to his knees and began crawling toward Remus who was looking anywhere but at James. “But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong and I grew strong. And I learned how to get along!” He crawled into his lap and grabbed his face in his hands, forcing his friend to watch him. He mumbled for a while, making up the words he didn’t know until he got to the chorus. “Did you think I’d crumble? Did you think I’d lay down and die? Oh, no not I! I will survive!”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Remus groaned and shoved James off his lap. He adjusted his glasses and crawled back to his seat.

“Personally,” he said as he sat down, “I think that was my best performance yet.” James sent you a wink and the butterflies were back with a vengeance. “And I think you should go next Moony.”

“No matter what I pick I’m sure I’ll be embarrassed so, truth I suppose.” Remus sighed and rubbed his face. He was certainly having regrets about playing this game.

“When was the most inappropriate time you farted?” James asked through the giggles that overtook him. The rest of the group laughed along with him but you were too busy smiling to laugh. James had the cutest and sweetest laugh you ever heard. It reminded you of pure joy and you were sure if you could find a way to bottle it up and sell it, you'd be a billionaire.

“In History of Magic two weeks ago. Binns gave us a test and it slipped out. I blamed it on James and everyone believed me.”

James pouted and stopped laughing while everyone else only laughed harder.

---

The night continued with silly questions and dares and surprisingly, many of them were not directed at you. Either everyone had forgotten their plan to make you confess your feelings or it hadn’t happened yet. Just when you thought you were going to get out of this with your dignity still intact, Sirius turned to you. “Alright Y/N. I’m giving you the option here. Truth or dare?”

You didn’t know which one to pick. If you chose truth you were sure Sirius would force you to just admit your feelings. Dare had its own risks too. Sirius had made Lily and Peter switch tops (he actually looked quite cute in the crop top), Moony had to drop his pants and moon the group, and poor James had to try and do a backflip; his nose had just stopped bleeding. There was no winning. “Truth.” Sirius had that wild smirk back on his face. “No! I choose dare. I meant to say dare!”

“Too late. If you had to marry someone in the group, who would you pick and why?”

That actually wasn’t too bad. “James. He’s sweet and funny and he can always make me smile. He’s also pretty handsome too.” Perhaps you would have lied if you could have but with the way James was smiling at you, you were glad you had to tell the truth.

“James, since you won Y/N’s hand in marriage, she can do the honors of giving you your truth or dare.” Sirius patted James on the back and winked at him. That had to have been some sort of secret message between them.

“Well then, I choose truth as well.”

It would be easy to ask him if he liked you or if he liked anyone. He would have no choice but to tell the truth and then you would know. If he did like you, maybe things could change and you would tell him the truth too. Of course if he didn’t, your heart may never recover. You had been friends with Lily before you were friends with the marauders. Every time James would flirt with Lily or even talk to her, your heart would flutter. He eventually stopped bothering her and they became friends which meant you also became his friend. It had been a couple of years now and the friendship with James was easy. He was so caring and he always took the time to check on you and make you laugh. He was easy to fall in love with.

“What was the last lie that you told?”

James hummed as he tried to remember, a blush coating his cheeks. “I think it must have been when I told Sirius I didn’t have a crush on anyone.”

So he did like someone! That someone could even be you. You couldn’t help getting your hopes up as you watched him rub the back of his neck and look at the ground. Sirius looked at you and smiled, actually smiled; he must have been thinking the same thing as you. “Prongs, is your crush here?”

James nodded.

“Then I vote you have to kiss them!” Sirius proposed and everyone cheered.

James paled and shook his head. “I can’t do that. Everyone will know and if they don’t like me then everyone else will see it happen.” He looked as terrified as you felt.

“How about,” Remus said and quieted the group, “we all close our eyes so we don’t see who he kisses. Sound alright to you Jamie?”

He shrugged and everyone closed their eyes, including you. Once darkness fell, so did the silence. No one moved or made a sound until across the way you could hear James shuffling. The sound of his movements got louder and you assumed, and hoped, he was moving toward you. Then, all of a sudden, the shuffling stopped. Could he have stopped in front of Lily? Could he have stopped in front of Peter? Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were sure the rest of the group, possibly even all of Hogwarts, could hear it thumping. What if he didn’t kiss you? Would you be able to continue on with the friendship knowing there was no possible chance it could blossom into something more? You wanted to believe you could but it was hard enough to look at that messy hair and his sweet hazel eyes and his perfectly pink lips without knowing his feelings. How could you ever look at him again if you knew he felt nothing more for you than friendship?

What if he did kiss you? Would you kiss him back or would you be too shocked? What if he kissed you and you forgot how to kiss? What if you sucked at kissing and it made him change his mind? What if it was magical and everything you dreamed it would be and you started dating and then eventually you broke up? Would it ruin the friendship? Was it worth the risk of losing him to even try and get him in the first place? You were never going to confess to him.

Your heart was beating faster and faster and all the air in your lungs escaped you. Your head was spinning and your thoughts were racing. Was the room always this hot or was it just you? Why was it still so quiet? Did something happen and you missed it? Had James kissed someone else and told everyone to open their eyes and you were sitting there with your eyes closed like an idiot? It was too much.

Your eyes flew open and you jumped back; James was right in front of your face with worry written all over his. His eyebrows furrowed and he grabbed your hand, steadying it. You didn’t even know you were shaking. “Hey, are you alright?”

You stared at him with wide eyes and glanced around him. Everyone else had opened their eyes and they were now watching you both. The air shot back in your lungs and your chest heaved as you tried to get your breathing under control. James continued to watch you, waiting for some kind of answer. When you didn’t have one for him, he grabbed your hand and helped pull you to your feet. “Let’s go to my dorm and get some air.” He started to lead you to the stairs but turned to look at the group one last time. “We’ll be back down in a bit. Just, stay here and give us some time?”

He put a hand on the small of your back to help guide you up the stairs. Once you were in the dorm, he grabbed your hand and pulled you over to his bed, helping you sit. “Stay right there.” He whispered before rushing around the room and throwing open all of the windows. The fresh air coming in did help calm your breathing. Your mind was still racing but as James sat next to you and you listened to the sound of the rain outside, your thoughts began to slow.

James slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. “What happened?” He whispered. “I was crawling around and I could hear you breathing all heavy. Then you started shaking and I was going to check on you and then you kinda scared the shit out of me and opened your eyes.”

A small smile appeared on your face as you laid your head on his shoulder. James really could always make you smile. The smile didn’t stay long as you began speaking. “I was scared you were going to kiss someone else but I was scared you were going to kiss me. I started overthinking everything and I just got nervous.” The words flew out of your mouth before you could even think about what you were saying.

“Why were you scared?” James whispered and you could feel his body tense next to you.

“Because I’m in love with you.” Holy shit. Why did you say that? “I didn’t want you to kiss anyone else because I would never be able to look at you the same if I knew you thought of me as just a friend. But I was scared you were going to kiss me because then things would change and if something ever went wrong, I couldn’t live without you.” You just poured out your deepest secret about James to James. What were you doing? You decided to never tell James about your crush so why did you say it? You scanned the room, hoping that maybe there would be some answer and there was. Laid out on one of the beds was Remus’s favorite sweater. Remus.

The veritaserum! It was still working and it just made you spill your guts to James. You shoved yourself away from him and covered your mouth with your hands. James watched you with wide eyes but neither one of you moved.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you watched him as well. What could you possibly say to make this better? “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because I was so worried that it would ruin our friendship but that stupid potion really does work well and I couldn’t help myself. I want to say I’ll be fine if you don’t like me but I probably won’t be alright. I love you so much James but if you don’t love me in any sort of romantic way then I’ll have to live with it. Just please, don’t hate me; don’t leave me.”

James swallowed thickly and pushed his glasses further up his face. His cheeks were bright red and his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth. “Do you really love me?”

“Of course I do.” You dropped your hands from your mouth. You didn’t have to continue as you already answered his question truthfully but the damage was done. There wasn’t any more harm you could do if you told him why. “You’re the most amazing guy I know. You’re funny even when I lie and tell you I hate your jokes. You can make me smile no matter what kind of day I’m having. You make me feel special and loved and when I talk you give me your full attention. You remember my favorite book and my favorite food and you always remember my birthday. You’re perfect James. How could I not love you?”

His eyes traced over your body a few times before they stopped on your face. The way he was looking at you, the intensity of it all, made you want nothing more than to shy away. But you couldn’t. You had to see this through to whatever end. “Do you… do you love me too?” You whispered, unsure if he could even hear you.

“I do. I love you Y/N.” Time stopped as he spoke. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing anymore. Could this be a dream? It was only fitting that the man of your dreams confessing his love for you would happen in a dream. Gingerly, James reached out and took your hand. He was warm and a little sweaty; James always got sweaty hands when he was nervous. His palm was heavy on top of yours and as he scooted closer to you, you decided that if this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up anytime soon.

He stopped moving when his face was just centimeters away from yours. “Can I kiss you?” This close you could see the deep browns and brilliant greens in his eyes. You could smell the cologne he put on after each quidditch match.

“Please.” That was all it took. He leaned forward and planted his lips on yours, softly at first but soon he leaned in further. His arms wrapped around your torso as your hands threaded through his hair. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony and you could no longer tell where you began and he ended. Desperate for more, you climbed onto his lap and your noses bumped.

“Ow shit.” James quickly pulled back and covered his nose with his hand. In the moment you had forgotten all about his poor nose.

“I’m so sorry James.” You whispered but soon started to laugh. Nothing was exactly funny but something about the whole situation was hilarious. James joined in your laughter and shook his head. As the giggles died down, he rested his forehead on yours.

“I should probably see Madam Pomfrey about my nose in the morning. I did hit the ground pretty hard.” James smiled and pecked your lips.

“What happens now?” You whispered, tucking some hair behind his ear.

“Besides finding some ice for my nose?”

“Yes,” you laughed. “Besides that.”

James hummed and rested his hands on your hips. “How about after my nose gets fixed I’ll take you on a date? We can go to the Three Broomsticks and take a walk. Maybe get some candy?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

“Splendid.” He mumbled and leaned in again, attaching his lips to yours. The dormitory door swung open and you quickly pulled away from him. Sirius stood in the doorway and as he took in the sight of you on his best friend’s lap and James still leaned in for a kiss, he smirked that same wicked smirk.

“Well, pardon me.” He winked at James and turned around, shutting the door behind him. You could still hear him yell, “Moony! Wormtail! We’re sleeping on the couch tonight boys! Prongs finally got the girl!”

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@100gaysnails @weasleybuns @steelthistle @jsjcue @andy200700

#hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfcition #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders #marauders era #the marauders #marauders fanfic #marauders fluff #marauders fic

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

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Love (I Can’t Forget)

Pairing: geralt x jaskier Warning(s): minor jaskier x other Rating: mature

Summary: Jaskier is quite enjoying his morning with the innkeeper's daughter when he hears the cry of a golem. He knows a contract has been put out for a Witcher and that everything should be perfectly fine. Only the contract put out was for a rock troll.

There are few things in his life that Jaskier regrets as much as his extensive knowledge of all things monsters. And not even the majority of the time, just right now on this particular day at this particular time.

He's been stuck in Hamm for three days on his way to Cintra to check in on Ciri. But there's a rock troll that's been blocking the only safe route out, chucking rocks at travellers and being a general nuisance. Rock trolls aren't much trouble otherwise, but this one is affecting trade and travel, so the town has put out for a Witcher. Judging by the chatter in town, the witcher arrived this morning. So, unable to leave and unwilling to go out and get involved with the Witcher and his business like everyone else, Jaskier has holed up with the innkeeper's daughter Penelope and he's quite enjoying himself.

Or, he was, until he heard the cry.

Because right now, he's quite happily trapped beneath layers of lace and silk, pinned between soft thighs, and all he can think of is that the contract was put out for a rock troll and that sound? that was a golem. Which means that right now, there's a Witcher thinking he's going up again a calm and peaceful creature and is very much not prepared for what he's about to find. And Jaskier is torn.

Because on the one hand, he doesn't want anyone getting hurt, especially due to miscommunication - intentional or otherwise. But on the other hand, the likelihood of Geralt being the Witcher called to deal with the problem is very high. And Jaskier doesn't want to see him.

It's been months now, close to a year since he last saw Geralt, having received no apology or even acknowledgement since the dragon hunt. Which is fine; Geralt's an asshole and he can travel alone if he likes, but if that's the way it's going to be, Jaskier simply does not want to see him. Ever again, if he can help it. But he also doesn't want to see him die.

"Fuck," he mumbles and Penelope giggles as he drops his head, hair tickling her thighs.

"Mmhm, I hope so."

Jaskier crawls out from under her skirts, running his hands up her thighs and doing his best to look apologetic. Because he is; he'd rather spend the entire afternoon making her come than face Geralt for even a second, but he can't sit idly by when the man he, regrettably, still loves could be in danger.

"I have to go," he says softly and she frowns. "I'm sorry and believe me, I would much rather stay here with you, but an old friend is in danger, I can't leave him alone."

"The Witcher?" she asks and Jaskier nods. She must have heard the cry too. "Isn't it his job to fight monsters?"

"Yes, when he's given the correct information, but that's not a rock troll out there." Penelope sighs but pushes her skirts back into place, tidying them.

"You'd better go find him then."

Jaskier dips down, pressing a brief kiss to her lips before gathering his things quickly and hurrying off to find the Witcher. He prays under his breath that it isn't Geralt, but even as he does, he finds himself looking for traces of the man. He knows Geralt's habits, knows where he'll set up camp - the people here aren't friendly enough to welcome a Witcher into their homes or even host him at the inn - and so Jaskier heads for the woods.

It takes him a remarkably short time to come across the meagre camp. Roach is tethered to a tree just a few feet from the fire pit and Jaskier's heart aches to see her. She dances excitedly and he swallows back a lump in his throat.

"Hey, girl," he whispers. "I've missed you too, but I can't stay, okay? Geralt could be in trouble." He gives her a quick pat, regretting that this will likely be their only chance to see one another.

Jaskier drops to his knees next to Geralt's pack, rummaging through it. He finds the satchel of oils first, pulling them out until he recognizes the bluish hue of elemental oil. He sets it aside and continues looking for potions. Immediately, he finds swallow and thunderbolt sitting neatly in their sheaths and his heart clenches. He grabs them both and a third vial he hopes is white rafford's and tucks them all into his pockets, turning to hurry in the direction of the fight.

It's not hard to find them. The golem is loud and Jaskier follows the sound of its roars until he almost stumbles over a log in his urgency to get to him. Geralt rolls in his direction, dodging a blow from the beast, and when he sees Jaskier, his expression sours.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Jaskier?"

Jaskier stiffens, immediately defensive. He has to bite his tongue as he crouches down next to Geralt, still keeping one eye on the golem. It seems to have lost its target for now, but Jaskier knows that won't last long.

"Rude," he retorts, "considering I'm here to rescue you." He empties his pockets, listing off the supplies as he pushes them into Geralt's hands. "I thought you might need the assistance since a golem is a lot harder to talk down than a rock troll."

He's seething now, all the anger and hurt of the last year bubbling to the surface and it takes everything in him not to cry in front of Geralt. He's always been an angry crier and he hates it. But Geralt's head jerks up and a little bit of pride peeks through the anger. Because he does know what he's doing. He pointedly ignores it, eyeing a scrape on the side of Geralt's face that will need tending to later.

"Take the thunderbolt now," he says, "don't risk going at it again without it."

Geralt scoffs but he makes no attempt to take control of the situation, letting Jaskier continue. Jaskier focuses on the golem; there's no way Geralt can get the jump on it from here, so he'll have to distract it once he's ready.

"Oil your blade," he says and Geralt eyes him suspiciously, but he's already got the rag in hand.

Once he's finished, he keeps his eyes on Jaskier, no longer waiting for a command, but skeptical of what comes next. Jaskier knows he's realized something is up or else he would have just gone after the golem again, but he's waiting, he's letting Jaskier help.

"You're not going to like this," Jaskier says, rising to his feet, "but know that I'm only doing it for you."

He darts away through the trees and he can hear Geralt yelling after him, but it's too late. He ignores him, pushing on until he hears the golem turn its attention on him. This is closely followed by an angry fuck and Jaskier knows his plan is working.

Geralt still isn't at full strength, but with a distraction, he shouldn't have trouble taking the golem down. He just needs to keep it away from him without being killed until he has the chance. It's only then, that he realizes he didn't think his plan through all the way; once again, he was too concerned about Geralt's safety to consider his own and that's proved ill for him in the past.

He trips over a root - a root! - and fumbles backward to keep out of the way, but he's expecting this to be the end. He shuts his eyes and braces himself, but just as he can feel the golem's breath on his skin, it lets out a cry and whips around to turn its anger on Geralt.

Jaskier cracks an eye open to see it swinging at Geralt, now caught up and wielding his silver sword. Jaskier sighs in relief and scrambles to get up, ensuring he hasn't lost any of the supplies he brought with him. He doesn't stick around to watch the fight, heart still hammering in his chest, instead finding himself a safe spot to look out for Geralt until he takes the golem down.

And he does, shortly now that he has the right supplies, dodging its blow and pirouetting around behind it to deal a deadly blow. The golem collapses, shaking the ground beneath it and Jaskier holds his breath as he waits for Geralt to emerge from the pile of rubble.

But he doesn't and Jaskier can stand the wait any longer so he rushes out to him. Geralt's eyes are open when he reaches him, but his eyelids droop and his breath comes in hot heavy puffs. Jaskier drops down next to him, careless of the mud and blood that soaks into his trousers.

"'M fine," Geralt mumbles, but he doesn't sit up or make any attempt to move and in Jaskier's opinion, that's not fine.

He hauls Geralt up into his arms, propping him up against his chest and pulls out the remainder of the potions he brought with him. Geralt scowls and bats his hand away.

"I didn't come all the way out here to watch you die," Jaskier tuts, "I was having a very nice morning and I'd appreciate it if I wasn't interrupted for no reason. Take the potion."

Geralt rolls his eyes like a petulant child and takes the vial from Jaskier's hand, downing it like a shot of liquor.

"See," he says, "fine." Jaskier wants to smack him.

"Get up."

It's a struggle to get Geralt to his feet and Jaskier suspects his physical injuries are worse than the exhaustion, a prospect that has his heart racing, much to his chagrin. Geralt shouldn't mean anything to him anymore and yet he can't keep himself from feeling sick at the thought of anything happening to him.

Geralt uses him for support, leaning on Jaskier's shoulders as they make their way slowly back to the camp. Geralt complains about getting the necessary proof that he killed the golem and Jaskier does his very best not to call him a fucking idiot about it. He promises, with as little irritation as he can manage, that he can return for it in the morning.

He sits Geralt next to the fire and as he crosses back to Geralt's bag to collect spare linen and salve, Roach nibbles at Geralt's hair, nudging him with her nose. Jaskier smiles softly at her worry, he can understand it well; Geralt all but left him for dead, and here he is pulling him out of danger and bandaging his wounds like nothing has changed.

When he returns to him, Geralt has two of the clasps on his armour undone, but he can't reach the third and he's frowning at it. Jaskier sets the linen down with the rest of his supplies and sighs softly.

"Let me."

Geralt remains silent as Jaskier unstraps his armour and pulls his shirt up over his head. He's bruised mostly, but there are a few fresh wounds including one that spans nearly his entire stomach. There are a few scars he doesn't recognize, too, and Jaskier doesn't want to think about what caused those.

He cleans his wounds first, then wipes down the rest of his torso, relieved to find most of the gunk on him is not actually blood.

Once he's finished his work, he leaves Geralt to get dressed and gathers more wood for the fire. He lights it with bits of flint from Geralt's pack and while the smaller branches begin to crackle, Jaskier sets about finding something for them to eat. He's never been very good at hunting - that was always Geralt's job when they travelled together - but he knows his plants and with what he still has in his pack, he fixes something up for them. Not that he feels much like eating.

It's not until Jaskier is about to leave that Geralt finally speaks. Jaskier is just on the edge of sleep, exhausted from worry and the effort it takes to be so close to Geralt right now and he very nearly misses it.

"Why did you do that?"

"What part?" Jaskier asks.

"Risk your life. For me."

"I had to. I couldn't just let you die because someone was too stupid to know the difference between a rock troll and a golem."

"I'm impressed that you knew."

Jaskier's stomach does a little flip-flop and he curses himself for being so weak. "I learned from the best," he quips. "But you should sleep. I'll come back to check on you in the morning."

There's a long silence as he gathers his things and then, "Stay?" Geralt asks and Jaskier's heart clenches.

He wants to. Gods, he wants to. To lie down next to him and look up at the stars like he always has and to fall asleep to the crackling of the fire and the faint sounds of Geralt breathing next to him. But he shouldn't. That part of his life is behind him now and Geralt made it very clear that he doesn't want him around. This was just a means to an end; he couldn't with any good conscience, let a Witcher die on bad information. Even if that Witcher is the same one who broke his heart on a mountaintop so many months ago.

"I miss listening to you sing while I rest," he says and Jaskier's legs shake under him.

"You.. do?"

"Mm, I didn't realize how much I appreciated it until it was gone."

Jaskier stands still, unable to think through the rush of blood in his ears. He was angry and hurt and spiteful for a long time, but maybe it's time to let go of all that.

"Alright," he breathes.

He tries to remain calm as he can because he knows Geralt can tell when he's not. He can hear the sound of Jaskier's traitor heart and the way his breath comes just a little too fast. And he'll know what it means, the insufferable git. But in the end, it doesn't matter because Jaskier will always choose him over anyone.

He lays down in the dirt, folding his arms back to rest his head on - he's already covered in muck and Geralt's blood, what's a little more dirt? - and he sings. It's not an active choice, but he sings a love song. It's a lovely little tune, not one of his own, but one he's always been fond of, and as he sings, he closes his eyes and lets the warmth of the fire wash over him, remembering the nights when this was a common occurrence. Geralt is quiet, apparently genuine in his desire to hear him sing and Jaskier isn't quite sure what to make of that.

When he finishes, he thinks Geralt is asleep and he settles as well as he can against the rocky ground. He's tired enough that he could fall asleep anywhere, but then Geralt goes and opens his mouth again

"I looked for you," he says, "at first." Jaskier doesn't know how to respond, but Geralt doesn't seem to want a reply and he continues. "I knew what I said was wrong and I knew I'd hurt you so I tried to find you. You must have made it down the mountain before me. I was angry about what happened with Yen, I didn't mean it."

"I know," Jaskier whispers and he does. He realized a long time ago that he was not the intended target of Geralt's rage, but it didn't help to heal the wounds and it didn't bring him back. He's not sure what else to say and his heart beats too fast.

"Come here," Geralt says softly, shifting slightly to make space for him under the blanket.

Jaskier moves to lie next to him and Geralt pulls him close, wrapping an arm around him. Jaskier presses his nose into Geralt's shoulder, burying his face so Geralt can't see the emotion it betrays. He smells off, tangy, like blood and it makes Jaskier's chest tight.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"I'll be fine."

It's not a good answer, but Geralt tips his head down, burying his nose in Jaskier's hair and it's good enough. Jaskier presses closer, allowing himself this small bit of comfort.

In the morning, he wakes with Geralt's cloak over him, but Geralt himself is gone. As he rises to his feet, Jaskier realizes that Roach is still there, grazing happily at the edge of their camp and that means Geralt couldn't have gone far. He doesn't know how welcome his company will be, so he waits for Geralt to come back, but when he doesn't Jaskier starts to worry and he goes after him. It doesn't take long to find him.

Geralt is sitting on the edge of the forest, looking out over the town though they're far enough away that no one looking would notice them. Jaskier drapes his cloak around his shoulder and sits down, just slightly behind him.

"I thought about you," Geralt admits, "just before you showed up."

"Oh."

"I didn't think I'd see you again. I didn't want to die knowing you hated me."

"I don't," Jaskier says a little too quickly, "hate you. I can't, I tried. I was angry at you for a very long time and I was hurt for even longer, but I could never hate you." I love you too much for that.

"I have a... habit of saying things to you that I regret. Twice now I've nearly lost you for good and our last words would have been unpleasant."

"Twice?" Jaskier asks.

"Mm. The djinn."

"Right." Jaskier doesn't remember much about the djinn incident - it was fairly traumatic for him - but he does remember Geralt wishing for peace and quiet and saying some awful things about his singing voice. He mentions it, a little of the bitterness bleeding through.

"I didn't mean that either," Geralt swallows, "you have a beautiful voice." That voice fails him now as his stomach twists into a knot.

"Why now?" he asks because that's all that will come out.

"I miss you. I miss your company and seeing you again," he sighs like it's the most difficult thing he's ever had to say. Jaskier forgives him for that because this is already more than Geralt has said to him in a long time. "It makes me realize I was wrong before." He pauses again and Jaskier waits, nearly breathless. "I didn't actually expect you to leave."

"Then what did you expect?" he snaps, "Geralt I've put up with so much of your shit and I've stuck by you despite it. But you told me you didn't want me, that I was a nuisance, that I-" he turns and Geralt is right there. His words stick on his tongue and his throat goes dry.

"You're not a nuisance," he says and Jaskier nods dumbly. He looks at him and he can see how hard this is for Geralt to even get out this much and it's better than he was expecting. Anything else they can work out later if Geralt was genuine about wanting him around. Jaskier opens his mouth to speak to offer a compromise, but Geralt interrupts him.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he says, "I didn't want to, I wasn't thinking."

"Geralt-"

"You're important to me, Jaskier. And you saved my life yesterday," his lips quirk just so and Jaskier stares for a moment, trying to figure out if he's really seeing this.

"You never were very good at taking care of yourself," Jaskier shrugs. "You should have someone to look after you. Someone who knows something about these monsters you hunt."

Geralt huffs a soft laugh but says nothing, meeting Jaskier's eyes and holding his gaze. He tips his head to one side and Jaskier can feel the breath catch in his throat because Geralt is so close and it's been so long. He doesn't move, afraid to disturb the peace between them, but Geralt leans in, closing the space between them and cupping Jaskier's face in his palm. Their noses bump together, then Geralt's lips brush against his own so faintly he thinks he imagined it. But when he doesn't pull away, Geralt kisses him properly, leaning into it. Jaskier lets himself be drawn forward, lost in the press of Geralt's lips against his own. He hums softly as an arm winds around his waist, bringing him closer, and when Geralt breaks the kiss, he presses their forehead together.

"I know it's not fair," he breathes, "to ask you to come back after the things I said to you, but I want to make amends. Tell me how to fix this."

"Come back to the inn with me," Jaskier breathes, "I'll talk to the innkeeper, get you a room - or you could stay with me?" he's still a little hesitant, but this is Geralt. "We can talk about what comes next after a bath and some supper."

"Will you join me?"

"In the bath?" Jaskier stutters and he can see the flush that creeps across Geralt's cheeks.

"I didn't mean -" he starts, before glancing down at Jaskier's muddy trousers. "But if you want-?" Jaskier barely remembers to breathe, but he settles himself.

"Supper first," he says, "then we'll see about a bath." Jaskier smiles at him and Geralt smiles back, and for the first time in a long time, he finds himself looking forward to whatever comes after.

#geraskier #post-mountain #rex writes

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wizardimagines · 4 years

Note

hi omg could you do #28 and #15 angst with draco where’s he’s your ex and he’s in a thing with another girl but a happy ending please🥺

pairing: draco malfoy x reader word count: 2,5k summary: you and draco broke up months ago, but seeing him with someone else hurts you more than you thought. a/n: ahh u guys wanted some draco angst, so here’s some angst !! i promise that next time i post it’ll be a ron imagine for all my ron girls/boys out there,, enjoy ! <3 (this is a seventh year au btw where voldy never came back)

prompts: 15. you’re lying and you know i know 28. do you ever think of me while fucking her?

-----------------------------------------

Draco loved you. You knew he did. He had a hard time showing affection and telling you directly that he loved you, but he managed to show you he loved you in other ways. Holding your hand a little bit tighter, pulling your body closer to his while sleeping, things you never told him you noticed. That’s why it took you by surprise when he broke up with you. You had been so sure he loved you and that he was happy being with you, he never told or showed you any different; until that day.

It was out of the blue. You still remembered when the words left his mouth, making your heart drop. The thought of the break up still made your heart drop, even though it had been months now. After that, you two avoided each other at all costs, almost acting like the relationship never even happened. The relationship just disappeared into thin air. You knew the two of you could never be friends, so you just let it be, and so did Draco. You would carefully watch him at times after the breakup, looking if he was as hurt as you were. But you never noticed anything different, he would act the exact same as before; cocky and not really showing any other emotions other than ignorance.

You tried your best to cover up the fact that you were completely heartbroken. You would spend every night for weeks thinking about where it all went wrong, what you could’ve done to prevent the break up from happening and what made him leave you. For a while, you couldn’t even attend some of the classes you two shared because the sight of him would make you so upset to the point where you felt sick. You stopped seeing your friends, telling them you just had a lot to do in school and blaming it on other stupid things, like you had to clean your dorm or stay after class. No one ever believed you, of course. You weren’t the best liar after all. Eventually, it got better. The thought of him and the breakup didn’t upset you as much anymore and you could finally sleep at night. You slowly started to attend the classes you two shared again and you didn’t feel the urge to check if he was as broken as you were, you would join your friends at dinner again and laugh at some stupid joke Fred told the group; everything started to go back to normal. Until you saw him with her. You had been walking down the halls with your friends when you suddenly saw the platinum blond boy. Your heart stopped for a second, but at this point you were used to seeing him and it didn’t really affect you in the way it used to. That’s when you saw her. His hand was intertwined with hers, a big smile plastered on her face as she looked at him in awe as he spoke. After that, the rumor spread fast. Malfoy had a new girl and it was no secret.

It was like everything came back all at once, every emotion, including the heartbreak. The new couple would walk down the halls, holding hands as they smiled at each other. You would catch them sneaking each other notes during some of the lessons, he did things with her he never did with you. And it broke your heart more than the break up had. ‘’As I was saying,’’ Ron said as you walked down the halls. ‘’I just can’t wrap my head around it!’’ He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. You and your friends, Ron and Hermione, were walking to your next class together. The three of you had started talking about some assignment Trelawney had given you in divination. ‘’It’s really not that hard if you just tried to understand it, Ron,’’ Hermione muttered next to you, rolling her eyes at the taller boy. You had stopped listening to them a long time ago, getting lost in your own thoughts. It had been hard for you to stay focused lately, you found your mind wandering more often. You weren’t really complaining though, as it gave you a break from reality. A reality where you had to see him with her every day.

‘’What’s your next class Y/N?’’ Ron asked, looking down at you. His question made you snap out of your thoughts, looking up at him. ‘’Potions.’’ You answered quickly, letting out a sigh. ‘’Potions the worst,’’ He groaned. ‘’I’m off to my next class. I’ll see you guys at dinner,’’ He continued. ‘’See you,’’ Hermione responded, giving him a small wave. Ron smiled at you as you waved him goodbye before he turned around; disappearing in the crowd of students. ‘’Well, I better go as well before I turn up late,’’ Hermione sighed, not too eager to go back to class. ‘’Of course,’’ You said, pulling your books closer to your chest. ‘’I’ll catch you later,’’ She smiled before pulling you into a hug. You gave her a small smile as she walked away, just like Ron had done a couple seconds earlier. Then you were left there, alone.

You had potions with Draco. You two chose the class together, which only made it worse. But you knew there was nothing you could do about it, you just had to accept it at this point which you did. You knew you didn’t have to face him or talk to him, just see him from a distance which you were getting used to. You sat down, letting your books fall on top of the table in front of you. Students started to fill the classroom, Snape entering the room as well. ‘’Today,’’ Snape said loudly, causing the class to quiet down. ‘’We’re going to be working in pairs.’’ The reactions were mixed, some people very excited as they might have the chance to work with their friends, others, on the other hand, weren't too excited. You were one of them. You just wanted to be able to focus on your work alone, where no one could interrupt you or do something wrong. You let out a small sigh as you placed your head in your hands, your arms being propped up against the table. You saw someone walk into the door in the corner of your eye, causing you to slightly turn your head towards them.

There he was, dressed in his black robe and his green tie hanging from his neck. The black robe always contrasted his hair so well, making the platinum blond hair stand out even more. He quickly sat down a few tables away from yours, not even looking your way. You realized you were staring at him, quickly turning your head back so you were looking at Snape again. ‘’I’ll call out two names and those two have to work together,’’ Snape continued, scanning the class with his eyes. You could see Draco whispering to the person next to him in the corner of your eye, trying your best not to look his way again. You always thought his uniform suited him so well, the green bringing out the blue in his eyes. Snape started calling out names as you disappeared into your own thoughts again, trying your best not to start thinking about Draco. It was especially hard today.

‘’Y/N and,’’ Snape called out all of a sudden, making you snap out of your thoughts. ‘’Draco.’’ He finished. The whole classroom went quiet. Your heart stopped right there and then, this was your worst nightmare. This was the moment you had been avoiding for months now. You felt your eyes grow as you quickly put your hand up, not daring to look Dracos way. Snape looked up from the paper he was holding in his hand, looking your way. ‘’Yes, Y/N?’’ He asked, raising one of his eyebrows as he waited for a response. ‘’Is it possible I could I switch partner by any chance?’’ You asked, the anxiety building up as you tapped your foot against the floor. ‘’Do you have a problem with working with Mr. Malfoy?’’ He questioned you. You slowly put your hand down as you realized you were gonna have to work with Draco. You shook your head as you looked down in your lap, fiddling with your fingers as the panic started to grow inside of you. ‘’Then I don’t see a reason why you would want to switch partners. Go ahead and start working.’’ Snape finished, looking at you for a minute before turning around. You heard as the students started to move around, finding their partners. You didn’t move. You were desperately trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this situation.

An awkward cough was heard next to you. ‘’Hi,’’ A voice said, making you look up at the person now standing next to you. It was the first time in a very long time your eyes met his blue ones. He was standing there, with his hands in his pockets. You looked at him for a moment, not breaking eye contact. You opened your mouth to say something but failed. ‘’I’m gonna go.’’ You let out, turning your eyes back to the books in front of you again. You quickly grabbed them and stood up, excusing yourself before you hurried out of the classroom; not giving Draco any time to say something.

You hurried down the halls. Your mind was racing, you couldn’t process what had happened. It all happened too quickly and you surely weren't prepared for it. You tried your best to walk straight as you felt yourself having trouble breathing, the panic starting to set in. You quickly realized you had to sit down. You sat down against one of the walls, dropping the books on the stone floor; causing a loud thud. You closed your eyes as you took a deep breath, calming yourself down. You had never reacted like this before, but you hadn’t interacted with Draco since the break up either. You took a couple minutes to calm yourself down before opening your eyes again. As you gather some courage to go back to class, you heard someone walking down the hall. ‘’Y/N?’’ A familiar voice called out. You turned your head around, only to see Draco walking towards you.

You quickly stood up as he approached you. ‘’Is everything okay?’’ He asked with a frown on his face. ‘’Yeah, don’t worry about it.’’ You quickly responded, avoiding eye contact. ‘’I wasn’t worried about it.’’ He responded cold-heartedly. His words felt like a knife in your chest. ‘’Look, we’ve been broken up for months now, when are you going to get over it? We’re going to have to interact sooner or later,’’ He said, now clearly irritated and felt like you were wasting his time. ‘’Why did you come looking for me?’’ You asked, now having the courage to look him in the eyes. He raised one of his eyebrows. ‘’Excuse me?’’ He asked. ‘’You wouldn’t come looking for me if you didn’t care.’’ You continued, not breaking eye contact. This time, it was him that looked away and broke eye contact. ‘’Don’t be stupid. I don’t care about you.’’ He muttered, running his hand through his hair. ‘’You’re lying and you know I know.’’ You argued.

His eyes shot back to you. You could see the anger starting to build up in his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak. ‘’I broke up with you, Y/N, I never cared about you in the first place,’’ He spat at you, disgust filling his face. You stood there for a moment. You felt all the sadness and anger come back as the words left his lips, making you laugh in frustration. ‘’Do you ever think of me while fucking her?’’ You asked, not even realizing what you just had said. The blond boy in front of you parted his lips like he was about to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. ‘’Fuck you, Malfoy,’’ You snapped, looking at him in disgust. ‘’How dare you even say you didn’t care? I bet you think about me as she kisses down your neck,’’ You continued, letting all the anger out. ‘’I bet you think of me when you cum,’’ You snarled, placing your hands on his chest as you pushed him back. He stumbled back, yelling back at you. ‘’Fuck you Y/N,’’ He shouted, clenching his jaw. ‘’You don’t mean anything to me,’’ He hissed as he got closer to you. ‘’You’re a piece of shit.’’ You scolded, fighting back tears. At this point, they were tears of anger. ‘’Who do you think you are?’’ He snapped, getting even closer. At this point, you could feel his breath on your face.

Before you knew it, he slammed his lips against yours. You quickly caught on as you moved your lips against his. You grabbed the back of his neck, your hand gripping onto his hair. His hands grabbed your waist roughly as he pulled you closer to his body by the material of your robe. The kiss was raw and filled with emotion, all the anger and sadness you had built up inside of you coming out. He pushed you against the wall behind you, still kissing you roughly. He let out a groan as you tugged on his hair, his hands finding their way under your shirt; his nails digging into your skin. ‘’I hate you,’’ He mumbled as he kissed down your neck, causing you to hold back a moan. ‘’I love you,’’ You whimpered as you threw your head back, making it easier for the boy to kiss down your neck. ‘’For fucks sake,’’ He groaned as he grabbed your neck, forcing you to look at him. ‘’You know I love you too.’’ He answered before he pressed his lips against yours once again hungrily.

‘’I’m so sorry for leaving you,’’ He said in between kisses. ‘’It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,’’ He said as he placed his forehead against yours. Both of you were completely out of breath, your heavy breathing was the only thing that could be heard. You gave him a small smile. ‘’I know I just told you I love you but I do truly hate you, Malfoy,’’ You declared, making him smirk at you. ‘’That’s fine by me.’’ He smirked before leaning in to kiss your lips again. This time it wasn’t a rough kiss, but a gentle one. ‘’And you’re right,’’ He mumbled as he pulled away. ‘’I did think of you when she made me cum.’’ A small giggle left your lips as you shook your head. ‘’No one can do it like I do it, huh?’’ You asked as you pulled him in for another kiss using his tie. He smiled against your lips. ‘’Damn right, no one can do it like my Y/N.’’

#draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy smut #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter series #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hp imagine #hp imagines #hp

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 25

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader CW: Language, implied sexual content, angst

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 25: Theories of Emotions

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

April 30th, 1976

“HAHAHA!” Y/N let out a scream of mirth. She laughed so hard that her knees buckled, meeting the soft grass beneath and wand slipped from her grasp. Her eyes swam with heavy tears, gasping for air as she rocked back and forth, clutching her ribs. Nonplussed and unamused, Regulus gawked at her.

“You wart. You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

It was a passing joke, that she would teach Regulus how to swim but he took it a little too literally. Now, swimming — or attempting to swim in the shallow area of the black lake, wearing bright yellow floaties to keep him afloat, Regulus kept making large splashes; his arms failed around, legs unsynchronized as he kicked to propel his body.

“When you said your swimming skills were horrific, I thought you were being humble!”

Regulus’s face turned a dark pink, but he wore a sheepish grin. He doggy paddled his way out of the lake, which made her laugh even harder and waddled on land. Y/N got up, threw him a towel and ruffled his hair.

Regulus had been looking a little more lively lately, and Y/N was just happy that he seemed to be doing better.

“We can work with this!”

Regulus tossed her a dirty look, “Promise me you’ll never become a professor.”

“Whatever you say, Reggie —” “Hey!”

Once dry, they walked back to the castle and broke off into separate directions. Y/N promised to meet Remus a little earlier than usual at the library, but before then, she stepped into McGonagall’s office and sat in the chair opposite to her. Career meetings have been going on and her scheduled meeting had been weighing her down.

“Hello, Ms. L/N. Biscuit?” McGonagall gestured to the metal tin in front of her.

“No, it’s okay.” “Don’t be absurd.” Y/N was too afraid to reject again, so she took one.

“So, how are you feeling about the upcoming exams?”

“Nervous. Anxious.”

“I can imagine. You did struggle with the change of curriculum at the beginning of the year, but you’ve consistently improved.” McGonagall flipped through her stack of notes; her little glasses perched up high. She cleared her throat again. “You've always excelled in Defense, Potions and Transfigurations — and I’ve talked to Flitwick, he’s said you’ve improved drastically. Although, you struggle with History of Magic.”

Y/N sighed and nodded. Professor Binns wasn’t exactly helpful. “It’s never been a… strong suit of mine.”

“We all have our strengths and weaknesses, no? It doesn’t concern me much. I’ve heard you and Mr. Lupin are quite amicable — you two do study with each other..?”

“Yes, I attend his study sessions.”

McGonagall flashed her a rare smile and Y/N felt immense pride fill her. McGonagall smiling was almost as rare as getting a letter from her mother. “I can proudly say I have faith in you.”

“Thank you.”

“Then, I can assume you’ve given thought to what career you want to pursue?”

This was what she was dreading; thinking about her future. She’d give thought, loads, but it felt like there was such little time to decide the rest of her life. McGonagall waited for an answer as she watched Y/N struggle. “Do you have plans of continuing your education in America or..?”

She tried to make eye contact and her palms suddenly became damp. “I’m having doubts about working in the wizarding world.”

McGonagall pursed her lips.

“It’s not like I don’t want to — I do!” She explained, “I’ve thought about being a Healer. My mother is a Muggle Doctor.”

Professor McGonagall soaked in her words. “Are you struggling because you’re not sure if you want to become one, or do you feel pressured by your mother’s decisions?”

She sat straighter at this. “Er — Yes? No? That’s not my problem — honestly, I think my mom would discourage me from becoming one. It’s just… I mean…” She looked back to McGonagall who nodded encouragingly. “It’s just… the war… I’m not sure if I can…”

“What do you mean?” Her voice shifted, becoming brittle and it took Y/N by surprise. McGonagall wore a look so unlike her. Any trace of her firm, yet strict-kindness facade vanished. It was replaced with deep exhaustion.

“I’m a New — Muggleborn… most people — wizards — aren’t kind to someone like me… and I heard that they’re training them to be medics. I would be in the midst.”

McGonagall took off her spectacles, unveiling her red-rimmed eyes like she’d lost sleep or been crying. She sighed, so sorrowful and heavy that it even affected Y/N. “I won’t lie and say you’re wrong…” Her palms rubbed her tired eyes. “But you can’t let them win. Don’t let go of your dreams to submit to them. I won’t let my students diminish their talents and dreams.”

The professor took a long pause. “I know several institutes that transfer magical credits into Muggle credits if you’re seriously considering disconnecting from Magic. But, I urge you, think about it.”

She nodded gravely. There was already a considerable disconnect from her and the Muggle world that going back seemed impossible, but it was probably the safest.

McGonagall broke the silence, reshuffling her papers.

They continued to talk for some time, jumping from courses and mark requirements for NEWT level courses and Y/N left with a stack of papers and mock schedules. With a heavy heart, she headed towards the library. It seemed like every week when exams neared, the earlier group sessions would be.

Y/N flopped down on one of the couches near the back and let her head loll to rest on the cushion. She wasn’t alone for long before she felt the couch dip beside her. She peeked open one eye; Sirius in all his glory was there. In one hand, he held the Marauder’s map before she snatched it.

“Now you’re stalking me?”

His head made a funny gesture. “You know about the map?”

“... James.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I haven’t told anyone. I promise!”

He beamed and when Y/N flipped through the papers McGonagall gave her, she felt Sirius place a hand on her thigh, slowly inching up.

Snogging — shagging — it made life a lot more fun. Unresolved anger between each other? Broom closet with heated words between kisses. One of them was stressed? Take it out on the other. Wanted fun? Sneak up to Sirius’s dorm. Sirius being a fucking asshole? Kiss him and he’ll shut up (although, Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that he knew this and was purposely being a dick to get a reaction now). Their anger was slowly dwindling to extinction. Moreover, rather than brooding exchanges across the hall, there were one or two sly smiles.

But, they had four unspoken rules they followed:

Never talk about whatever they were,

Because surely, neither meant anything to the other,

If they were with anyone else, they would have to tell the other,

And most importantly; never, ever, tell anyone.

“You look ravishing.”

Y/N felt her face heat. “I wish I could say the same about you."

Sirius smirked, his fingers trailing dangerously close to her inner thigh.

“Here?" She hissed, "What are you doing?"

“The thrill is the fun part.” He pressed a few sneaky kisses to her jaw, “You spend too much time here with Lupin and not enough time with me.”

“Jealous?” Y/N’s brow rose and she turned to look at him. “Of Lupin?”

Sirius didn’t answer but momentarily pulls away. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”

She rolled her eyes. “Slag.”

“You know French?”

“Second official language in Canada.”

Sirius nodded. “Well, I’m a slag… for you.” She teasingly smacked him on the head with her papers.

“I can’t stand you sometimes.”

“Feelings mutual, princess.”

Y/N hid a smirk, resuming to ignore him as she flicked through the stack of papers. There was a dreadful feeling settled deep within. Everything was moving too fast and she felt like she had nowhere to turn. Overwhelmed, she pressed herself into the couch further and groaned out, “Fuck —”

“Maybe we can do that later?”

An involuntary chuckle slipped out which had Sirius grinningly like a fool. There it was again, that Sirius Black grin… it made her heart do wild flips. “You’re a literal dog.”

“And aren’t you a lovely witch?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, flipped him off and went to tug on Sirius’ hair to pull him off before a loud moan ripped from him and echoed throughout the library. Y/N’s eyes grew large, mouth agape. Sirius was unapologetic though; his smile grew bigger.

“I promise I’ll let you slap me, lightly,” he winked and wiggled his brows. “Or hard, whatever you want.”

She shook her head and shoved her things into her bag and pulled Sirius to his feet before he led her up to his dorm. His name spewed from her lips like a prayer and consumed every thought.

At some point, they flopped down on Sirius’ bed as they breathed in deeply, catching their breaths. Y/N was filled with content and went to turn on her side, facing Sirius and cuddling up to him. Gently and mindlessly, pressed a series of light kisses to his forehead while massaging his scalp.

The sun made one last feeble appearance before being engulfed by dusk. Rays of golden glow spilled in as she embraced him. Her hands ran feather-light touches up and down his bare skin and Sirius’ head hugged close to her chest. The soft touches were filled with nothing but her (not so) hidden affection and calm peace. She didn’t think much about her actions.

Something she’d come to learn during their stolen kisses and nights under white satin sheets; Sirius was beautiful in a wild, carefree way. He was wild like how wind sweeps through the branches of willows trees and meadows on a cool summer's eve or carefree in the way waves from the ocean crashed upon rocks. He was hauntingly beautiful in a turbulent, pliable way — wild in not just beauty, but essence too.

And it hurt. What were they doing?

Everything moved so quickly. Not even a month ago, she was supposed to be hating Sirius — now their limbs were tangled together. The ever-present war crept up during the worst times and she and Lily hadn’t spoken since their fight.

Lily…

Y/N tried to be indirect, catching her eyes during class or in their dorms, but nothing. She would always re-direct her gaze. It’d grown awkward in the dorms; Marlene and Dorcas caught in the crossfire.

She really missed Lily. Their late night talks, silly games, Lily keeping her in line and Y/N getting Lily to let loose; everything and more.

Usually, once she and Sirius were done with each other, they would leave, peel off each other but Y/N was so tired of — well, everything.

Trapped in thoughts, she hadn’t noticed Sirius’ body go rigid until his body began to tremble. Sirius made a small strangled noise that she originally mistaken as a laugh or snore until she felt wet droplets fall on her skin.

Y/N pulled back to find Sirius silently crying. She watched him, thinking that she should comfort him but was rooted in place and eyes drifted to the door, thinking of leaving. It felt like an intrusion being there with him and comforting someone was not on her list.

“Er — Sirius?” She whispered, alarmed. Her smile fading and his breath hitched. She awkwardly patted him before going to stiffly stroke his arm, but it only seemed to make him cry harder. She quickly ripped back her hand and put distance between them. Her mind raced a mile a minute as she listened to him. “Sirius? Hey — what’s wrong?”

“Get out.”

She froze and looked back at him. “Do you want me to get someone —”

“GET OUT!” He yelled. It scared her so much that her body jolted and Sirius hid his face with his hands. Sirius crying and screaming at her unprovoked made her panic and recline. He stayed quiet after that, rolling over, pulling his blankets above his head.

She chewed on her bottom lip so hard that a metallic taste flooded her mouth. In a rush, she quickly threw on her clothes and grabbed her bag. She shuffled towards the door but then looked back at Sirius; he looked so small and his cries made her fill with immense sadness. She debated; should she leave and respect his wishes? But the way he was crying, so hysterically and abruptly — she worried he might’ve done something impulsive and stupid.

She decided on leaving and sat right outside the door just in case. She listened to his sobs that managed to seep through the walls.

She waited there for a very, very long time that she almost fell asleep before she heard his muffled voice and swore he said her name.

She knocked twice, “You okay?”

There was a knock back.

“Was I that bad of a kisser?” She tried to joke after some time. Luckily, she heard Sirius choke out a heartbroken giggle. This time there were two knocks. A no, she assumed.

Silence crept back in and Y/N leaned against the door and looked around the hall. Nobody else was there, but just in case put up a spell for any prying ears.

“Do you still want me to leave?” She asked. “Just say the word.” Communication with him felt weird.

Sirius remained quiet but then she heard him hop off his bed, feet coming closer to the door. She then felt a small nudge against the door as Sirius slid down to sit on the opposite side.

“You can talk to me,” Y/N said nervously, not wanting him to blow up again. “Did I do something? I promise I didn’t mean it.” She remained still, listening to his quiet sniffling.

Two knocks.

“Er — I won't push and you don’t need to tell me but — um, I promise I won’t tell a soul. Not even the other Marauders. It’ll be our little secret.”

It takes a long time before Sirius eventually stops sniffling and she listens to his uneven breaths; she's extremely uncomfortable and baffled. He tries to speak several times but ends up cutting himself off.

A sharp exhale came from him, shallow and irregular. In a small, weak voice that made it feel like an invisible weight pressed against her chest, he finally spoke.

“Je suis —” Sirius started before switching to another foreign language. Y/N was able to pick up on a few words: it was Italian.

“Nessuno dei miei amanti mi ha toccato così senza volere qualcosa in cambio. Non mi fai sentire usato e ne ho he terrorizza.”

More silence ensues; Y/N thinks that he might’ve walked away until he speaks again.

“Il modo in cui mi fai sentire mi spaventa e non riesco a gestirlo.” Sirius stops, taking a shaky inhale, “Non sono ancora pronto.”

Then, she hears the door click open and the knob turns. She backs away until it opens and her head peaks in. Sirius is staring at the ground to avoid her eyes, hair acting as a curtain to hide his face. She shuffles in, Sirius leans against the door and shuts it. Y/N shifts to sit in front of him. He’s dressed again, but the sleeves of his shirt were damp with tears.

She inches closer to place an encouraging hand on his but stops, remembering earlier. “Can I touch you?”

He closes his eyes — like the question was a mental battle before he nods. Y/N reaches up, pushing back the strands of fallen hair, revealing his red, puffy eyes. Her thumb strokes over his skin tenderly — intimately, but it causes a broken whimper to escape him, but leans into the touch.

“Whatever you said,” Y/N mutters, “Thank you for telling me.”

Pink floods his cheeks and he hesitantly reaches out, his arms going around her waist to pull her into a hug.

“Mi sbagliavo su di te.” He mumbled to her shoulder and Y/N was left to think.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

They both missed the study group and dinner. Eventually, Sirius fell asleep and Y/N snuck out of his room before the Marauders came in. She didn’t want to go back to her dorm to face Lily and was extremely hungry. She then thought back to Sirius before going to grab food for both of them.

She slipped out into the night, being accompanied by Nearly Headless Nick who had a worried expression on his face. Y/N didn’t think much of it, if anything, she was rather annoyed; after the day she’s had, she wanted to be alone for a while.

The house-elves helped to line a large platter of food before she thanked them, making her way out of the kitchens. Nearly Headless Nick floated close, urging her to speed up.

“Sir Nick, I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you following me?”

“Making sure you get back to Gryffindor’s tower safely.”

That caught her attention. “Safely?”

Sir Nick’s eyes widened. “My poor girl, haven’t you heard?”

She and Sirius missed a lot when they were together. Nobody was quite sure what happened to Mary; she wouldn’t speak a word of it, not even to Marlene. All anyone knew was that Mary was a victim of Dark Magic and was found in a torpid state by Hufflepuff’s Head Girl; used as an initiation for Mulciber for the Death Eater ranks.

Word ran wild around the school of Mulciber’s expulsion and everyone was left on edge. Rumours went around of the Imperius curse. Mary was fine physically, Sir Nick told her, but mentally…

Y/N’s blood ran cold while Nick had a sorrowful smile of reassurance. “You’ll be fine — your friend will be fine but you need to come with me, now.”

But out of the corner of her eye, she’d seen a shadowy figure peek out from the shadows and Y/N drew her wand, Sir Nick floating right behind her.

“Lumos!”

There, tall and unwavering was Snape.

He marched up to her, but Y/N began to quickly walk away until he reached out and yanked her back by her shoulder with bone-crushing strength.

“Lay your hands off!” Sir Nick cut in.

Snape ignored him, “What did you say to her?!” His cheeks were tear-stained; eyes glowing with something dangerous and Y/N wanted to run. “She won’t even talk to me!”

Lily must’ve finally confronted him.

“Let go of her! Let go, let go!” Sir Nick chanted, wisping through Snape until he stumbled back.

Y/N turned around, and heard Snape mutter darkly, running off. A cold wave embalmed her as every hair on the back of her neck rose.

“Come with me now,” the ghost said. She didn’t need to be told twice.

The moment she stepped inside the common room, Y/N felt every bone in her body relax. Her footsteps were quiet and rounded into the main area when she saw everyone there. James and Lily were pacing back and forth. James tugged down on his hair; Peter was by Dorcas and Remus, Marlene looked deathly pale, the two Head Boy and Girls were there. Sirius sat in a chair, his arms cradling Toulouse as he nervously swallowed, face imprinted with distress.

Remus was the first to notice, his head snapping up once he sensed her presence. He stood, “Y/N!”

Everyone’s head snapped towards her. James shouted, running up to her. “Are you okay?” His hands went straight to her face and handled her like a doll. “My Godric! We were so worried — we were about to go and search for you!”

Sirius abruptly stood up; chair screeching, eyes wide but then quickly took a seat as everyone tossed him an odd look.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! I just missed dinner and wanted to get food!”

James tackled her into a hug and she almost dropped the plate of food.

Her eyes then travelled to Lily, who looked like she was on the verge of tears. Lily made a move to go up to her, hand slightly outstretched before stopping and quickly ran up the staircase. Everyone noticed but didn’t mention it. Then the Head Girl and Boy exited wordlessly.

Lily leaving fucking hurt.

“I heard from Headless Nick, how’s Mary?”

There was a collective sigh. Marlene got up, going over to her and pulled her into another hug and pulled back. Her usually smooth skin was now littered with furrowed lines. “She’s with Madam Pomfrey, I’m going to sneak into her room now. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Should any of us come?” Peter interjected.

“No… I don’t think she even wants me there. It might overwhelm her.”

“Be safe,” Dorcas said, her eyes wide with worry. And then she left.

Y/N made her way to sit down, James practically glued himself onto her as she plopped down next to Sirius, but still far enough to avoid suspicion.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Remus said. “When you didn’t show up for the study sessions and dinner we all… thought the worst.”

“Sorry…” Then her eyes wandered to the staircase, thinking about Lily again.

Dorcas stirred in her seat. “Don’t take Lily’s absence as offence. She was really worried.”

“She suggested we go out to find you,” Peter said. “Also had a nasty row with Snape in the courtyards too. Everyone saw it. What a bell end, Snape.”

“I think, for now, we all ought to start pairing up,” came Remus. A solemn noise of agreement went around. Nobody talked for a while and Y/N placed the large metal tray of food on the table, no longer having the appetite to eat.

James was the one who broke the silence. “Where were you?”

Sirius stopped petting Toulouse and listened carefully. “I was busy talking to McGonagall. Something about careers. Then I just got tired and ended up sleeping through dinner.”

It technically wasn’t a lie and everyone seemed to believe it.

The air was tense and James wouldn’t stop fretting. Ultimately, Dorcas began to talk to Peter, Remus had a pensive look before going to crack open his book but seemed tense. It was only until she felt Sirius nudge her foot. She shifted her head gradually to examine him.

‘You okay?’ He mouthed, searching for any kind of lie or injury. His eyes were still puffy but overall looked better.

She shook her head. ‘I’m okay, you?’

A nod.

His reaction earlier had new questions arising but she saved that for another time. Her eyes darted to the plate of food and then to him. ‘It’s for you.’

But then she peered up and saw Remus watching their interaction. He seemed to be deep in thought and took a large inhale. She swore his eyes flashed a golden glow. Worried he was catching on, she initiated a conversation. “Moony?” She teased.

When he wore a judicious look during times like these, Y/N is reminded just how smart and intimidating he could be. It was like he knew everything before anyone else did.

“Sorry — thinking ‘bout something. Anyway —”

While occupied with Remus, Sirius glanced shyly over to Y/N and bent over to take a treacle tart, biting into it. The gesture was so heartbreakingly touching to him; so unexpected coming from her.

Sirius was left in a transitional phase. A lot of the inner turmoil he held — or thought he had — was released today and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Whatever irritation he held towards Y/N vanished. He looked forward to their bickering, shy forehead kisses and the feeling he got that was the opposite of dread or disgust after being with someone.

It felt nice, doing something he truly wanted for once — not engaging in intimacy out of coping rather than genuine interest.

But then, it unleashed everything else he wasn’t ready to deal with yet. His reaction to touch earlier had set off a bomb buried so deep within him but Merlin — he hadn’t realized it would’ve affected him that much.

Truth be told, now all he wanted to do was ruin her to bits and pieces but he was getting too ahead of himself — becoming attached too quickly and he already felt himself disconnecting. The only thought that lapsed in his mind was: run, boy, run.

It echoed through his head again, love wasn’t — isn’t a magic potion, far from it. So what was he doing? He needed to make a decision; continue doing whatever they were doing, work on himself or run.

Running away is easy. It’s always been easy. But he was tired of it.

And after the intense fear that paralyzed him, that made his mouth go dry and heart pound in his chest when nobody could find her when she left — after knowing what happened to Mary; it almost caused Sirius to spike and go into a panic attack.

Sirius wasn’t afraid of many things. After all, he’d already gone through so much that there wasn’t much to be afraid of anymore. But if he had to choose, and it was at the forefront of his mind, it would’ve been her.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Y/N headed to bed early as Dorcas waited for Marlene to return to the common room. It left her alone with Lily.

It was already dark, aside from a small lit candle that seeped through the cracks of Lily’s bed drapes. She did her evening routine before slipping into bed, listening to Lily faintly scribble in her diary. Only when Y/N felt herself relax, she heard Lily get out of bed and drew closer to her.

“Y/N?” Her voice was apprehensive. Y/N’s back faced her. She pretended to be asleep. “Psst… hey?”

Lily sighed before she sat down on the edge of the bed and didn't move for a long time. When they heard footsteps coming to their dorm was when she rose and uttered, “I’m glad you’re alright…Gave me a bit of a fright there… I’m sorry.”

Lily rushed back to her bed, drawing her curtains together when Marlene and Dorcas entered.

Y/N finally exhaled heavily, balling her blankets tightly. A thousand words, questions and thoughts were left unsaid. But, when she knew everyone finally was asleep, she uttered out an inaudible, I’m sorry too, and shut her eyes.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Translations

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Do you want to sleep with me?

Nessuno dei miei amanti mi ha toccato così senza volere qualcosa in cambio. Non mi fai sentire usato e ne ho he terrorizza.

None of my lovers have touched me like this without wanting something in return. You don't make me feel used and I'm terrified (of it).

Il modo in cui mi fai sentire mi spaventa e non riesco a gestirlo. / Non sono ancora pronto.

The way you make me feel scares me and I can't handle it. / I'm not ready yet.

Mi sbagliavo su di te.

I was wrong about you.

108 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: Subjugation.

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Yandere!Kalim/Reader & Yandere!Jamil/Reader

Synopsis: Kalim tends to get spoiled rather quickly. Jamil knows this better than most, and yet, when his self-proclaimed ‘friend’ comes to him with open arms and a problem in his unusual relationship, Jamil doesn’t have a choice but to assist.

TW: Mind-Control, Imprisonment, Mentions of Kidnapping, Delusional Mindsets, and Implied Assault.

Jamil was, first and foremost, a servant.

Less of one than he used to be, sure, but he was still the one to cook the dorm’s feasts, the unlucky savior most hesitantly went to for help when they’ve gotten themselves into trouble, and when Kalim found himself in over his head, Jamil was the one to pay the price. Kalim preferred to dress it up in flowery titles and affectionate descriptions, saying they were friends or rivals or whatever he needed to when he was asked about the nature of their relationship, but in the end, Jamil was the servant and Kalim was the master. It was as undeniable as it is unchangeable, and as much as Jamil wishes it wasn’t, it had to be true.

If it wasn’t, Jamil would’ve walked away the moment Kalim opened his mouth.

“It’ll only be for a day,” Kalim whined, his words pulled into a prolonged, childish drawl as he leaned onto one of the many cushions littered across the dorm’s common room. It was late, too late for there to be any other students within earshot, something Kalim must’ve been counting on when he decided to approach a studying Jamil. His proposal had been simple, albeit one-sided, and Jamil’s rejection had been simple, too. Kalim was never one to take ‘no’ for an answer, though. “Not even a day - twelve hours. Eight, if you want. I’d take five minutes, if I had to.”

Jamil sighed, shaking his head, the gesture more for himself than his companion. With Kalim’s oh-so-frustrating tenacity, denial was pointless. He wouldn’t stop trying to convince Jamil until he lost interest in the idea of arguing, and even then, he would still manage to waste a good few hours Jamil was never going to go back. Currently, they were ten minutes in, and Jamil had already given up scratching down notes in favor of rubbing his temples, and Kalim was either kind enough not to point it out, or oblivious enough not to notice at all. “It won’t be that easy. If I give you a day, you’ll want two. That’ll turn into a week, and…” Another sigh. Kalim swatted his side gently, and Jamil gave him an insulted huff. “It’s not going to work out. I’ve had to deal with you long enough to know that.”

“I have some self-control,” Kalim countered, crossing his arms over his chest. “A little affection won’t turn me into some drooling, thoughtless infant.”

Jamil raised an eyebrow. Kalim glared, but it came off as more of a pout.

“Hypothetically, if I do ask for more time, you can refuse. That’s why I’m coming to you!” Once again, Kalim’s tone shifted, his excitement growing as if Jamil had yet to refuse. “I can’t stop myself from making another potion or casting another spell, but you don’t have to work your magic. You can say no, and I’ll have accepted it. That’s the beauty of it - nothing’s forcing you to help me.” The plea was punctuated with a smile, wide and eager and completely unaware of Jamil’s grimace. “You have restraint, I don’t. You don’t love (Y/n), I do. It’s perfect!”

Jamil clicked his tongue, closing his notebook entirely. With a deep exhale, he let himself fall into the velvety, plush cushion behind him, a hand rising to trace the shape of one of his braids. That was one of Kalim’s many, many problems. He viewed Jamil as a free agent. He thought that, regardless of the circumstance, Jamil would do what he wanted to and little else. In reality, Jamil would do what he wanted to unless it contradicted with what Kalim wanted. He’d tried going against his master, and it hadn’t worked. He wasn’t keen to try again without the aid of a thought-out plan.

He opened his mouth, but Kalim was talking before he could get anything out. Rambling, more accurately, but keeping Jamil quiet all the same. “I know it’s not the right thing to do,” He started. “It’s not like I wanted it to come to this. I just… I thought it’d be easier, once I got them alone. I put together such a nice room and I’m really, really trying to make them love me on their own, but it’s taking a lot longer than I thought it would.” He swallowed, pausing to square his shoulders. Jamil looked on, abruptly interested with the sob-story. “I just want to know they love me, too. I just want to hear (Y/n) say it, even if it’s a lie.”

That caught Jamil off-guard. He’d played a hand in your imprisonment, bringing you to one of the spare rooms in Scarabia while you slept and making sure no one was around to see it, but guessing at Kalim’s infatuation and hearing him admit to it were two very different experiences. Jamil assumed he would be disgusted. That was the right thing to feel, wasn’t it? He should be repulsed, disturbed, revolted, but seeing Kalim fight not to curl him himself, hearing him struggle not to let his voice waver…

It was different. Jamil didn’t think he appreciated the misdirection.

His eyes dropped to the carpet. “I can give you twelve hours, and not a minute longer.”

Instantly, all traces of Kalim’s anguish disappeared, and Jamil was tackled into a hug that left him lying on his back and desperately attempting to pry a boy-shaped mess off of his chest.

Already, he regretted doing anything to warrant it.

In the time since Jamil last saw you, a lot had changed.

Most of it was materialistic. Your abduction had been an impulsive thing, a request made by a lovesick boy on a night dark enough to make it seem like a possibility, so the space had been sparse and undecorated, just another single room in a tower no one had occupied since before Jamil was enrolled, but Kalim had made some… renovations, since Jamil’s last visit. Rugs and tapestries hung from the walls, eye-catching methods of sound cancelation, and whatever wasn’t plated in gold had a healthy coat of silver, instead. Evidence of Kalim’s presence was everywhere, from the half-empty can of his favorite energy drink sitting on a bedside table to the chipped paint on the posts of your bed, easily overpowering whatever signs of life you might’ve managed to leave in your weeks of occupation. Even you seemed to be scarce, a reflexive panic flaring in Jamil’s chest when he failed to find you from the doorway. He had to search for you silently for a moment, but there weren’t many places to hide.

Still, he almost wished you’d made a little more of an effort.

You were shivering. You had been since the moment he stepped in, your knees pulled to your chest and your face tucked into your legs and every part of you trembling so violently, it was hard to believe you hadn’t managed to shake yourself out of your own skin. A platinum chain kept you tethered to the furthest wall, and although the shackle was lined with a generous amount of dark, purple velvet, your ankle was irritated around it, the indent red and furious, your bare wrists littered with signs of similar abuse. He wondered if he should’ve brought something, a balm or an ointment or a hacksaw, but before he could turn back, Kalim tugged on the back of his vest, and Jamil remembered what he was here to do.

You uncurled as he approached. Hesitantly, at first, but as soon as you saw it was someone who hadn’t openly glorified themselves as your captor, your shell dropped away quickly. It was a frantic sort of desperation, one that pushed you to ignore the scowl Jamil couldn’t repress as he got close enough to see the bruises around your neck, the deep cuts that stretched down your arms, swirling from shoulder to elbow. Immediately, it dawned on him that there’d probably be more on your back, your chest, your thighs, but Jamil only took a second longer to realize that, if there was, he didn’t want to know. You didn’t seem to sense his aversion, just smiling, too happy to do anything more than sit back and stare.

If he’d been any kind, Jamil’s heart might’ve broken.

You thought he was here to save you.

“Jamil,” You gasped, your voice heavy with hushed excitement. You scrambled away from your safe-haven, your knees and your palms soon pressed against the stone floor, but if you were uncomfortable, it was secondary to your utter, primal relief. He let you latch onto him as he kneeled, resting his hands on your shoulders sympathetically as you buried your face in his chest, but you were pulling away quickly, your gaze flickering from his face to his arms to the open door behind him, like you couldn’t quite believe he was there. When you spoke, it was just as hasty, just as rushed. As concerned for him as you were for yourself. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t know what happened, I can’t… He won’t let me leave. I didn’t think I would ever--”

“I know.” It was a small reassurance, but an honest one. Your smile grew easier, as if he’d already promised to see after your safety. “I’m going to help. I just need you to do one thing before I can.”

“Anything.” No hesitation, no reluctance. You leaned back, but you refused to pull away, your grip on his biceps never loosening. “I’ll do anything.”

Despite his better intentions, he felt his grin broaden. “It’s simple,” He said, a hand coming up to cup your jaw. “I just need you to look into my eyes.”

Confusion flitted across your expression, bewilderment mixed with the beginning stages of betrayal, but following his commands came like a second nature, your stare meeting his before you can stop yourself. In a moment, his concentration sharpened and a familiar sense of power began to broil in his chest, something sharp and hungry reaching out, seeking a mind more malleable than his own. Unfortunately, you were the only thing nearby.

You opened your mouth one more time, but that was all you managed before you went slack, your eyes glazing over and your body going limp in his arms. You never looked away, though, never dared to take a breath he might not permit.

You were ready to serve him. You wanted to serve him.

And until he decided you were allowed to, you wouldn’t take a step he didn’t want you to take.

As soon as you went quiet, Kalim’s head poked around the doorway, scanning over your limp posture and Jamil’s unspoken control before he entered, barely hesitating before he collapsed at Jamil’s side. He took the signal, tilting your head back, making it clear who he meant to address. Not that you wouldn’t leap at any word he said, while you were like this. “Until I give you permission to do otherwise, you’ll treat Kalim as a lover. You’ll do anything he asks, and you will be grateful.” He gave himself a second to think, to add anything more specific that might’ve been necessary. His attention drifted towards your shackle, the cuff tighter than he remembered it being, a minute ago. “Whether you’re restrained or free, you will not leave the confines of this room. Other than that, act of your own volition.”

Your reaction was delayed, but just as Kalim began to get antsy, your face lit up, your neutrality quickly turning into adoration. Again, you moved forward, but rather than attempting to earn Jamil’s kindness, you threw your arms around Kalim’s neck, whispering something inaudible into his ear before giggling as you were pulled into his lap, the blatant display already starting to make Jamil feel sick. You fear was gone, replaced with something tender and affectionate, too loving to be natural. But, Kalim didn’t seem bothered. “This is perfect,” He cooed, his more stoic companion already near-forgotten. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, aren’t we, treasure? And all thanks to Jamil.”

You nodded enthusiastically, and Jamil sighed, more desensitized than he was defeated. “Twelve hours,” He warned, pushing himself to his feet. “And not a minute longer.”

Kalim smiled, his fingers moving to your hair, petting through it idly as he encouraged you to litter quick, playful kisses over his jawline. His stare was just as distant as yours. “That’ll be enough.”

It wasn’t enough.

In Kalim’s defense, he did make the effort to act like he was trying to stave himself off. There were weeks between the first request and the second, each day without complaint and only the occasional mention of how nice it was to hold you or kiss you or take you out of your restraints, but his request did come, and it came again two weeks after that, then one, then four days. Always for twelve hours, and always posed as if he’d never asked before. And, with some hesitance, Jamil always agreed.

He was just that generous, he guessed.

It was an improvement, he told himself. You couldn’t resume classes or get away from your captor, but you weren’t chained to a bed, either, or conscious enough to experience the brunt of Kalim’s ‘love’ as he forced it onto you. He caught glimpses of it, your one-sided bliss. You were kept away from the other students, but occasionally, he’d find you leaning on a kitchen counter sometime after midnight, watching Kalim raid the dorm’s pantry, or clinging to Kalim’s waist in the early hours of the morning, pouting because you knew you were going to be left alone until he returns. You looked healthier. You weren’t as afraid as you used to be.

Not when you were under his control, at least.

He could almost see why Kalim preferred you this way, if he was being honest. Laid across Kalim’s bed, silken robes splayed out around you and your arms outstretched above you, allowing you to admire the golden, jewel-encrusted rings dripping from your fingers. Even before your time in Kalim’s care, you would’ve taken any excuse to get something so gaudy away from you, but these were gifts from someone you loved, someone you worshiped. Right now, you’d sooner die than attempt to remove them.

He had to clear his throat before you’d glance in his direction, ripping your eyes away from the finery with a good deal of difficulty. He moved to speak, but you were faster, your reaction instantaneous, rehearsed. Something that’d been drilled into your head time and time again, by himself and by your captor. “Kalim says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

He smiled, unable to stop himself. “I’m just a friend,” Jamil explained, indulging your induced naivety. “I’m looking for him, actually. You don’t know where he is, do you?”

“Any friend of Kalim’s is a friend of mine,” You chirped, happily rolling onto your stomach. Instantly, your attention went back to your rings, but you were just fiddling with them, now, tracing the shape of perfectly cut rubies and emeralds. “He said he’d be back, soon, but he still left me alone. He never takes me with him, isn’t that mean?” The question was rhetorical, punctuated by a small huff. “He says he cares about my safety, but he’s gone for hours, sometimes. That doesn’t seem like something he would do if he cared about me.”

“How cruel.” If you noticed the dryness in his tone, you didn’t call him out, only nodding and sinking further into the mattress. He went on, if only out of curiosity. “And you stay with him regardless?”

At that, you perked up, straightening yourself just enough to cement your resolve, as well. “Of course,” You said, glad to prove your loyalty. “Kalim does so much for me… Staying put is the least I can do to show him how much I appreciate him.”

He didn’t push you further, only smirking as you babbled on, content to talk about anything and everything, as long as had to do with your never-dying dedication. It wasn’t long before he let the door close behind him, taking a seat on the edge of Kalim’s bed. In the moment, he told himself he was waiting. Kalim would come back to you eventually, so Jamil was just saving time, but even then, he must’ve known he was lying.

He couldn’t say he blamed himself, though.

Anyone would’ve had a hard time resisting a pet so obedient.

He’d almost forgotten how hard you kicked.

Even with your hands restrained, a pair of silver handcuffs keeping your wrists chained to the headboard despite your complaints, you still found a way to make your displeasure known. It’d been difficult enough to pin you down long enough to straddle your waist, earning Jamil a bruise on his bicep and a tight ache in his left shoulder, but your squirming wasn’t much of a reward, your closed eyes and your grit teeth only adding insult to injury. You didn’t try to scream, but your thrashing could’ve drawn attention on its own, violent and frantic and frustrating. For once, Jamil was glad to be alone with you. The mild-mannered reputation he’d taken so long to perfect certainly would’ve taken a hit if anyone saw him lose his temper so quickly.

“Stop!” You didn’t scream, but you weren’t afraid to yell, your voice pitchy, uneven, desperate. As distraught and as futile as the feet still beating at your mattress. “I’ll behave, I promise, I just--” The thought fell short, fading into a stuttered breath as Jamil took you by your collar (a thick, titanium thing too heavy for anyone to wear casually), shoving you down before you could attempt to sit up. You didn’t attempt to resist, grudgingly accepting the change with a practiced defeatism. A week ago, he might’ve felt bad for you, given you some space or let his mind wander to all the many reasons you had to polish such a specific skill. He wasn’t feeling that considerate, now. “I don’t want to be like that again,” You went on, quieter, but no calmer. “I won’t try to get away, I just can’t keep... existing like this.”

It was a messy promise, poorly worded due to panic and uninformed distress, but Jamil smirked, letting you go. You didn’t waste time, twisting your head to the side and pressing your cheek against the wrinkled sheets, but he didn’t move to stop you, either. “It’s not your call,” He grunted. “Kalim likes it, and you can’t act like a brat when you’re under my control. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he preferred it when you were dumbed-down and easier to handle.”

You shrunk, but you didn’t argue, didn’t correct it. You were desperate, but you weren't delusional. “I… I don’t care. I can be ‘easier to handle’ without your help.” You swallowed, your expression relaxing, but you never opened your eyes. “You’re not a monster, I know you’re doing this because you have to, but I need you to help me. You don’t have to let me go, just… please, I can’t keep doing this.”

He pursed his lips. “If Kalim--”

“Kalim doesn’t have to know.”

You spat the proposal abruptly, leaving Jamil stunned. The shock lingered, even when he processed what you were suggesting, rendering him speechless, silent. For a moment, he didn’t react. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

And then, just as suddenly, he laughed.

“That’s so sweet! You think we’re friends, you think I want to help you,” He chuckled, the words coming out between forced, erratic gasps, only distorted further by the jagged edges of his stark, inescapable smirk. You stiffened, but it didn’t make a difference. Before you could steele yourself, his fingers were entangled in your hair, wrenching your head back by the scalp, prying your eyes open with all the grace of a drunken brute. You tried to look away, to focus on a wall or the ceiling or anything but Jamil, but he didn’t care. He was so, so sick of using his magic for something so easily accomplished.

He wanted this to be personal. He wanted you, the real you, kicking and writhing underneath him until you stopped. He wanted to see you submit and surrender all on your own, without his merciful, numbing help. He wanted you to scream and beg and act like you loved him just as much as you pretended to love Kalim, just as much as he deserved to be loved.

And he didn’t want anyone getting in the way, friend or master or something inbetween.

“I’m not doing this for Kalim, anymore.”

643 notes · View notes

flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

To give without knowing (18/20)

Word count: 11k

read on AO3

previous / masterpost

Content warning: blood, injury, hallucinations

Just stay safe and alive.

Geralt’s sword hit the armour-like scales of the basilisk, barely leaving a scratch. The beast reared up, beating its mighty wings to get away from him. With a snarl, Geralt leaped towards the creature, clinging to one of its wings to prevent it from taking flight.

Without warning, the beast threw itself to the side, crushing Geralt against a tree. A snap cracked through the forest and a burning pain raced through Geralt’s already injured arm, like a dead tree getting struck by lightning.

I will.

All air was pushed out of him as the tail of the basilisk hit him again. Panting, he went to his knees. Stars danced before his eyes. His ears were ringing and he could feel blood dripping into his eyes.

With inhuman strength, Geralt thrust the injured hand towards the basilisk. His arm burned and he had to grit his teeth against the pain. Fire danced before his eyes. It was too bright, too hot. The wails of agony coming from the basilisk threatened to burst his ears.

His igni broke off, his arm falling limply to his side.

I’ll be back.

A look of desperation and fury entered the basilisk’s eyes; a promise of death.

The monster’s beak opened wide as it surged forward one last time. Geralt could barely make out its form. Blood clouded his vision and suddenly there was a sharp stench that burned his eyes.

His body shook with a cough as he inhaled the basilisk’s toxic breath, but he forced himself to remain standing.

I’ll be back.

He had promised Jaskier. It seemed that would be one promise he wouldn’t be able to keep.

No, he had to make it back. He had to tell Jaskier – everything. He couldn’t leave him. Not like this. Attached to his belt, he still had the wolf figure. He needed to bring it back to Jaskier. He had promised!

Geralt’s arm shook as he gripped his sword tighter. The weapon flashed silver as he swung it one final time, hitting its mark, just as another beating of the basilisk’s wings shoved Geralt and flung him back to the ground.

A horrible shriek pierced Geralt’s ears. The sound of something heavy hitting the ground. A death rattle.

Whose was it? The basilisk’s? Or Geralt’s? Perhaps it was both. He couldn’t tell. His mind was too fuzzy, his vision blurring at the edges. He fought to get back to his feet, leaning onto his sword for stability, but before he had fully gotten up, his knees buckled and he saw the world tilting sideways.

His arm where the basilisk’s claws had dug into his flesh and his bones had broken, flared up with searing pain when he hit the forest floor with a soft thunk that didn’t fit the severity of the situation. Almost mechanically, he turned onto his back, trying to block out the stench of the basilisk’s toxic breath surrounding him. If he was lucky, the wind would soon disperse it and spare anyone else from being affected by it. If anyone were to come here, that was.

Clenching his jaw and blinking to clear his vision, he inspected his arm.

Try as he might, he couldn’t see the wound. It was all…so blurry. The colours blended together and swam before his eyes. His blinking became more furious, fighting to keep his eyelids from dropping, but his body wouldn’t obey him.

He grimaced at the pulsating pain, but ignored it, lifting his hand until it found the little pouch bound to his belt and his fingers could close around the thing in there. The wooden wolf. The thing that had been meant to protect him. The beloved figure that he was supposed to bring back to Jaskier.

He had promised he’d bring Winter back.

Winter. The name had never felt more fitting. Geralt’s clothes were drenched in mud and water from when the basilisk had flung him into a small lake earlier.

Now, the bitter autumn winds blowing against his wet clothes made him freeze and shiver.

Jaskier would still be at camp. Would the fire Geralt had lit for him before he had left still be giving him warmth? Or had it already been reduced to ambers? If Jaskier was smart, he would leave. He would get out of this damned forest and find the next town, some place where he would be warm and safe and didn’t have to wait for witchers who wouldn’t come back to him.

Geralt had to come back to him!

He rolled back onto his stomach and tried to push himself onto his knees. He crumbled almost immediately, landing face first in the mud.

The mud splashed up, covering his hair until it was almost fully brown. For a blissful moment he could imagine that he had never become a witcher, that he had kept his brown curls and that maybe, had he still met Jaskier somehow, he could have been someone who was good enough for him, who could love him without suffocating on the knowledge that it could never be returned.

He squeezed his eyes, fighting to banish the thought. He couldn’t let himself imagine. But…his mind was so heavy. And that dream was so beautiful.

If he were someone else, if he had never been a witcher, Geralt could have held Jaskier’s hand without fearing that his touch would make other people sneer at the two of them in disdain. If he still were who he had been before the trials, he could be bright, happy and beautiful like Jaskier. He could be perfect for him. He could be loved by him.

A strange sound that didn’t belong in this forest stole into his impossible dream. It was beautiful, soft and melodious.

Geralt blinked, forcing his eyes open. And there he was. Jaskier, walking towards him with a smile on his lips and his lute in hand.

Instinctively, Geralt found himself reaching towards him, but his body was too heavy, his limps refusing to obey.

“J’skier…”

As if he hadn’t heard Geralt’s contorted plea, Jaskier kept smiling. Geralt’s blood turned cold.

Something was off about the vision. Geralt’s wound throbbed and he could feel the poison sluggishly make its way through his body with every slow beat of his heart.

Jaskier wouldn’t smile if he were here. He wouldn’t sit down next to Geralt and lean against him as if he had no care in the world. He wouldn’t still be playing the lute.

And yet Geralt couldn’t bring his mind to force the hallucination to go away. He knew what it was, this wasn’t the first time he had been poisoned after all, but he didn’t want to fight it. With his potion bag out of reach and a body that wouldn’t move, he could do nothing but lay here and wait for the end. His heartbeat was too slow to grant him a quick death from the toxin. Getting lost in the hallucination, even if only for a little while, would be a mercy.

It would probably take hours until the venom would make his heart stop. He still had time. He could fight the toxin later. Later, when he wasn’t so damn tired. When he could feel his fingers again. When Jaskier wasn’t looking at him so fondly anymore.

For now, Geralt followed Jaskier’s siren call, basking in this fake Jaskier’s presence, his smile, the soft touch of his shoulder against Geralt’s.

Jaskier’s fingers moved over the frets of his lute and he started humming in harmony to the song. Geralt’s heart clenched when he recognised it. It was one of those about Jaskier’s love.

Why did Geralt’s mind have to torture him like this even now that he lay in the mud, bleeding, freezing and alone? He would have given anything to have Jaskier near him right now, but hearing this song, knowing that there was someone out there who could look at Jaskier the way Geralt wanted to… it hurt. Worse than his injuries. Almost as much as knowing that he would leave Jaskier alone if he died.

“Stop,” he croaked out, his tongue feeling heavy like lead in his mouth. “Don’t…not that song.”

Abruptly the song cut off. The sudden silence was somehow even worse than the torturous song. Still Jaskier was smiling. That sweet, unreal smile that pierced Geralt’s chest and made him long for more.

“Don’t you like it?” Jaskier asked and Geralt couldn’t answer. His lips wouldn’t move, his body wasn’t his to command anymore. “I wrote it for you.”

Jaskier played a couple more chords, tugging at the strings of his lute as he did on Geralt’s heart. He stopped again, but this time the last note echoed through the forest, through Geralt’s mind, through his bones.

With a gentle hand, Jaskier reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of Geralt’s face.

It was brown and curly. Human.

“You’re beautiful,” Jaskier said softly and bent down to press a kiss against his forehead, his fingers not faltering as they kept playing with his hair. “You have the most stunning brown eyes. So gentle. So happy. So-“

“Human.”

“Yes.” Jaskier’s own eyes crinkled at the sides. “Human. All I’ve ever wanted you to be. Now, like this, we can be together, Geralt. With you normal and beautiful, we can be happy.”

Geralt leaned into Jaskier’s touch. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, needing to get closer to the man who already held it in his palms. And yet, something cold pressed down on his chest.

“I can’t. I’m not-“

“Don’t you want to be happy?” Jaskier asked, his fingers wandering down over Geralt’s face, tracing his cheekbones, his jaw, his lips. “Don’t you want me to be happy? I could be happy with you.”

Geralt wanted. He wanted. Him, this promise he was making. This future he was promising. He wanted to believe he was the person in the song. That now as a human, Jaskier saw him differently.

“I do,” Geralt said weakly. “I want to be your happiness.”

“You are. My beautiful Geralt. You finally are.” He pressed a hand against Geralt’s chest, right above his heart. Geralt could feel it beat faster at the touch. Nearly as fast as a human heart. Fast enough to kill him quicker. It would be worth it, if he died because Jaskier was looking at him with all the love that Geralt had never dared to ask of him before. He would die like this for Jaskier, with a human heart beating just for him.

No. He – he couldn’t! He had to survive, to get back to the real Jaskier. He needed to slow his heart down again, needed to become a witcher again. He had to give up being what Jaskier wanted to become again what he needed.

That, more than anything made his eyes burn. With more strength than ever before, Geralt took a deep rattling breath and calmed his heart. With every beat that came slower, Jaskier’s face became colder until it was nothing more than a stony mask of disgust.

“Witcher!” he spat, but didn’t take his hands off Geralt. Instead he pressed down harder, his hand going through Geralt’s chest and crushing his heart.

A gasp escaped Geralt. He watched in horror, as the scar on Jaskier’s forehead contorted. The delicate silver line became bigger, darker, like a crack through a rock, like lightning, like…like the veins on a witcher’s face when he was his most monstrous.

Jaskier’s eyes turned dark, an endless abyss with no feeling or warmth. An icy chill ran down Geralt’s body and he wanted to flinch back. Danger!, his mind screamed. Monster! Witcher!

Witchers took small boys and twisted them into something ugly and grotesque. Geralt didn’t want to be taken away! He wanted to go back to where he had been just a moment before. In Jaskier’s loving arms. He didn’t want to be turned into something twisted. He wanted to stay! Stay! Stay! He wanted to stay someone who…who could be loved. He wanted to be Jaskier’s. And this, he couldn’t be while he was a witcher.

“Please stop,” Geralt begged and through some miracle, Jaskier did. His face smoothed over. All cracks and spidery lines disappeared and his eyes turned back to that endless blue.

Somehow it didn’t make the eerie feeling go away. This Jaskier’s skin was too smooth. Too perfect. There was no scar on his forehead, no grime from the road smeared across his skin, no freckles from the sun around his nose and no laugh lines around his eyes. This was a Jaskier that had never met Geralt. Or one that had been left and broken by Geralt, and had filled all the cracks Geralt had left, with mortar and put on a porcelain mask.

“Jaskier…”

“Why did you leave me, Geralt?” Jaskier said, his tone inhumanly even and his voice so thin that Geralt thought it would break if he spoke another word. “I waited for you. Why could you not stay?”

I want to stay, Geralt wanted to shout, but his tongue didn’t obey him. I want to stay more than anything.

He wanted to lift his arms and cup Jaskier’s cheek, but it was too heavy, with too much pain racing through his muscles. Too much poison.

This wasn’t real. The real Jaskier was still somewhere out there, still waiting for him to return –

“Won’t you stay with me now? You could unmake me and make me anew. You could make me into who I was before I became this. You could make me real,” Jaskier whispered, but his words were loud as drums in Geralt’s mind. Jaskier leaned closer until their lips almost touched. “Please stay.”

His words were sweet as honey, venomous like a snake’s bite.

The trees behind Jaskier began to move in a breeze. No, not a breeze. The branched moved all on their own, winding in on themselves, hissing, darting out and baring their fangs. Snakes. Every branch above them; a million venomous snakes.

Venom. It was burning in his blood, in his wounds, in his lungs. He had to breathe, he had to take his potions, he had to survive so he could get back to Jaskier!

Jaskier was right here, giving Geralt a look softer than Geralt had ever dared to dream of. He wasn’t bothered by the snakes, didn’t even seem to notice them. He only had eyes for Geralt. He was right here and he was safe and he had begged Geralt to stay with him.

Why shouldn’t he just stay with him? It was all he ever wanted.

Geralt let out a choked noise and slowly nodded, earning himself an radiant smile

Geralt had to squeeze his eyes shut against it. It was so bright, too bright. It was like the sun, bright, blinding, burning!

But it was Jaskier’s. Geralt had to look. When he forced his eyes open again, that unbearable brightness was replaced by a shadow. A shadow stalking through the trees right behind Jaskier. A bear, bigger than any normal one and with cracks littering its body.

Jaskier didn’t seem to mind when the bear crumbled to pieces. Neither did he mind the feathers sprouting from his own skin.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Geralt?”

Because of you. Because I love you and I need you to be safe and happy.

Piercing yellow eyes appeared between the trees. Yellow eyes, like a witcher’s eyes. Like Geralt’s. Because he was a witcher, no matter what this hallucination wanted him to believe. He didn’t want those eyes, didn’t want to be what he was. He wanted to be so much more, so much better. He wanted to be Jaskier’s.

“You can be,” Jaskier said gently, his fingers tracing his lips. “And I can be yours. I want to be. Please Geralt, let me be yours. Just stay with me. Just tell me –“

The gleaming eyes came closer. Where were Geralt’s swords? He’d have swords, hadn’t he?

The shadowy silhouette became clearer with every step the creature took towards him. It was a wolf, enormous, dangerous and terrible.

“Jaskier- “ Geralt rasped. “I need to…safe. You…safe…”

“Geralt?” There was something strange to Jaskier’s voice. Something urgent that didn’t fit his smile. And for some reason, his voice came from somewhere else, from the wolf.

This wasn’t real. There was no wolf and no bear and no Jaskier.

He needed to go back!

“Jaskier…need to find…Jaskier…”

He turned to his side with a groan, only to find that Jaskier was gone. In his place sat a bird. Geralt reached out for it but his arm wouldn’t move. The bird cocked his head to the side the same way Jaskier sometimes did when he regarded Geralt. It opened its beak and a song unlike any bird’s left it. It sounded like lute strings and heartbreak. It sounded like the song Geralt wished could be about him.

The bird hopped closer to him, fluttering its tiny wings. It looked happy and excited to come closer to Geralt. His fingers twitched and with all his might he lifted his hand again. The bird landed in his palm and the second it touched his skin, it let out a piercing scream that sounded like snapping wood. Its wings broke, shattered, fell to the ground and the bird splintered until Geralt held nothing in his hands but blood that turned to dust and feathers that looked like pieces of wood.

A tremble overcame Geralt and his hand formed a fist, expecting to feel the shattered pieces of Jaskier dig into his skin. Instead they closed around something solid. The wolf figure. The one Jaskier had given him for protection. The one he was supposed to bring back, back, back!

Geralt tried to push himself up once more, the fingers of his one hand still clutched around the wooden figure. The smooth wood the only thing he knew for sure was real.

The wolf let out a cry that sounded all too human, before it leaped. Geralt’s breath was pushed out of him when its paws landed on his shoulders, nailing him to the ground. Geralt tried to trash in the grip, to struggle to –

“Get back …to Jaskier.”

“I’m here.” A broken sob. His hallucination Jaskier hadn’t sobbed. He had smiled and sung and loved Geralt. Why was there a sob? “Geralt, I’m here. I – wait.”

Something burning was poured over his arm. His entire body convulsed, went up in flames. There was only white hot agony inside him, cold blackness in front of his eyes.

He blinked, fought against the pain that was dragging him under. The trials! He was going through the trials again! Strapped to a table, injected with toxins that would change his body and life forever. Maybe it would take his life instead this time.

Then there was no more darkness, no more shadow wolf. Only Jaskier. Not the smiling Jaskier from before, nor the porcelain or stone one, but one with tear tracks running down his face, clutching Geralt’s shoulder with one hand and forcing a bottle of something foul smelling against his lips.

“You promised!” he whispered. “You promised you’d bring the wolf back to me. You promised you’d survive.”

The burning liquid made it past his lips, running down his throat and searing everything in its wake. The world was aflame and Jaskier was standing right in the middle it.

A grunt left Geralt’s lips as he tried to push himself up again. “Have to find…”

“I’m here.”

Cool hands touched Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look up into the sky. No, not the sky. That blue belonged to something else. Something infinitely more beautiful.

He wanted to touch, to capture that blue, to get lost in it. To lean in and –

A tremble shook his body. The world was aflame and it was freezing. Geralt’s clothes clung to his body like ice.

That blue pulled away. That painfully gentle touch left him.

“No,” he croaked. “Come back!”

“I’m right here,” Jaskier said softly, but he was lying. He wasn’t touching him anymore and Geralt had told him to wait for him at camp. Jaskier must still be waiting for him.

Something draped over him, strangling him! No, not strangling. It was soft and warm. Jaskier tucked it around him. So it must be good.

Geralt inhaled long and deep. The smell of parchment, smoke and the faint burn of fingers that had played the lute for too long. It smelled like Jaskier.

If…if this was his - his cloak, his blanket- then Jaskier must be cold. He shouldn’t give Geralt his warmth! Geralt was the one who should protect Jaskier, make him happy, keep him warm.

He had to give some of his warmth back.

With strength he hadn’t known he possessed, Geralt lifted his arms. Jaskier let out a surprised yelp when Geralt took hold of his shoulders and pulled him against his chest, his arms encircling Jaskier, keeping him close, warm, safe.

“G-Geralt?” Jaskier asked. He sounded scared. Why did he sound scared? He was safe.

“’s fine,” Geralt said, nuzzling into Jaskier’s neck. Home.

He could feel Jaskier gulp and wanted nothing more than to press a kiss against the hollow of his throat. For a blissful second – or was it hours? Days? A lifetime? – Jaskier relaxed and leaned into the touch, his own hands stroking through Geralt’s hair. Geralt couldn’t see what colour his hair was.

It was the most wonderful moment Geralt could imagine. Which meant it couldn’t be real. Jaskier didn’t hold him close like that, didn’t let Geralt hold him. Unless it was cold in the night and he needed Geralt’s arms around him. They had held each other before in the day too, but not like this. Not with Jaskier practically laying across Geralt’s chest.

It was too good to be true. And if it wasn’t true, that meant that Jaskier would never know. He wouldn’t push him away or look at him in disgust. If this was still the poison showing him visions, Geralt might as well make the best of it. He could at least let himself believe that he wasn’t dying alone. If his last thought was a false belief that Jaskier could love him, then he would die happily.

He tilted his head, just enough to press a small kiss against Jaskier’s throat.

Jaskier let out a choked out noise.

“Geralt,” he pleaded. Pleaded for what?

Geralt’s hands wandered to Jaskier’s face, traced his cheekbones, felt the tear tracks on them. He leaned forward and kissed the tears away.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against Jaskier’s skin, feeling him shiver beneath him. “Too beautiful for me.”

He pressed another kiss against Jaskier’s skin, this one closer to his lips.

Abruptly, Jaskier pulled back. “No, Geralt stop!” His chest was heaving and his voice shook. “You can’t…you’re not yourself. You don’t…I can’t take this from you.”

Take what? There was nothing Jaskier could take that Geralt wouldn’t gladly give him. He would give him everything. Anything he asked for.

Jaskier had asked for trust. For the truth.

Geralt’s mouth went dry. He had to give it to him. Now.

“Jask,” he began, his tongue moving sluggishly. “I need to…the carvings…the wolf...I –“

“Shhh,” Jaskier’s blurry silhouette moved and Geralt felt something touch the hand in which he still was clutching the wolf. “I know you kept it safe. But we have to keep you safe too, alright?”

“But I…I need to tell you-“

“Don’t.” Jaskier sounded so agonised, as if cutting Geralt off caused him physical pain. “Don’t do that to yourself.” Quieter, he added, “Don’t do that to me. You don’t know what you’re saying. You can’t stop yourself.”

Geralt didn’t want to stop himself. He wanted Jaskier to know. He needed Jaskier to know.

Jaskier moved again, his motions too fast for Geralt’s eyes to follow. “I’ll have to get Roach, so we can get you to safety, alright?”

Geralt nodded sluggishly. Jaskier asked for it, so it was alright. But then he pulled away and Geralt’s insides turned to ice.

“Jaskier!”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier’s voice broke and he tucked the cloak tighter around Geralt. “I’ll come back for you. Wait for me.” He hesitated. One beautiful long moment in which Geralt was so sure Jaskier would stay with him. They could be together until the end of time, with no secrets and no doubts. “I love you, Geralt.”

The last words were spoken so quietly that Geralt wasn’t sure he had truly said them. He blinked – and Jaskier was gone. He was alone again.

“Jaskier!” He called out for him weakly. It was impossible to tell if the name had ever even left his lips. In Geralt’s head, it was roaring like thunder. Just that name, repeating over and over until there was nothing else to think about. Nothing was as important as that name.

He blinked again. Strange shapes moved around him. Colours, movements, laughter and song. It was disorienting. Geralt wanted to follow, but he couldn’t get up. All he could do was lie there and hope Jaskier would come back for him.

As the edges of his vision became black once again and his eyelids became too heavy to keep them open, Geralt wondered if Jaskier had ever even been here.

He was flying. There was wind in his face and in his hair. He was a bird and he was flying, flying, flying.

He slumped forward, falling against something warm and soft. Hair tickled his face and it smelled like home.

The rhythmic motion beneath him didn’t falter, but the thing he was leaning against jolted.

“Hang on, Geralt,” a familiar voice said. “We’re close. The town is just an hour away. You’re going to make it. I promise.”

Geralt nodded against the person’s shoulder.

“I know,” he mumbled into their skin. “I trust you.”

He closed his eyes again. He didn’t have to worry. He was safe with this person.

He was warm. So warm. The bed beneath him was soft and more comfortable than it should have been. Hadn’t he been in a forest?

Geralt’s brows drew together, even as he kept his eyes closed to bask in this comfort for a little while longer.

He was so sure he had slept on a cold forest floor the last couple of nights. Hadn’t he been worried about it getting too cold for Jaskier?

Jaskier!

His eyes snapped open and he shot upright. A dull hammering in his head made him wince, but he ignored it. Wherever Geralt was, he shouldn’t be here. He should be at camp where he had left Jaskier. He had promised. Jaskier trusted him to come back and Geralt couldn’t break that trust.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

Dark spots danced before his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. He could worry about himself later. For now, the only important thing was that he found Jaskier.

He took a step forward and blinding light fell through a window right in his eyes. He squeezed them shut and turned away.

It was so bright. Hadn’t it already been close to dusk when Geralt had left Jaskier? How much time had passed?

His stomach churned, bitter bile and guilt rising in his throat. How long had Jaskier waited for him? Was he even still waiting or had he given up on Geralt?

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, if he had, a treacherous voice in his head whispered. If he left, that means that he has finally realised that you aren’t good enough for him. He has finally seen reason and is going to be happier for it.

No. He couldn’t listen to those poisonous words. He had tried so hard to make Jaskier feel seen. If he had lost his trust in Geralt that meant that Jaskier didn’t believe himself worthy enough that anyone would come back to him again, even if it was just someone like Geralt. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let Jaskier doubt his worth.

He staggered forward, determined to get out of here as fast as possible, but almost immediately his knees buckled.

He wanted to catch his falls with his hands, but something restrained one of his arms and he landed with a heavy thud on the floor.

A muffled curse came from behind a door and steps hastened closer. Geralt tensed and tried to get the bandage that kept his arm in place away so he could fight should he need to.

The door opened and Geralt froze.

“Jaskier?”

There he stood, dark bags under his wide eyes and his hair tussled as if he had constantly run his hands through it. But he smelled of parchment, a hint of smoke and wood shavings. Of comfort and home.

“You’re awake!” His whole face lit up and he ran towards Geralt, falling to his knees beside him. “Are you hurt?”

Geralt let out a dismissive grunt.

“Oh no,” Jaskier scolded and jabbed a finger at his chest. “None of that. I need you to truthfully tell me if you’ve hurt yourself any worse. I didn’t just spend two days sitting by your bedside just for you to hurt yourself again right away.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. “Two days?” His eyes darted between Jaskier’s. “And you stayed?”

Jaskier huffed in indignation. At first he didn’t answer. He avoided Geralt’s gaze by grabbing him under the arms and coaxing him to stand up again so he could sit down on the bed instead of lying on the hard floor in a pathetic heap.

“Of course I stayed,” he finally said as if there had never been a realistic alternative to that. He sat down next to Geralt, close enough for their thighs to be nearly touching. He cracked a weak smile. “I guess that means we’re even know. I distinctly remember you taking care of me when I fell of that cliff.”

“You weren’t out for two days.”

Not that it mattered. Geralt couldn’t count all the times Jaskier had patched him up after a hunt or when Geralt had gotten Jaskier out of danger. They both owed each other their lives many times over. And yet, Jaskier had never had to stay with him for so long when he was injured.

Jaskier shrugged. “Fine. Then you still me one more day of taking care of me.”

Geralt’s chest warmed at those words. They meant that Jaskier would stay with him.

“I will,” he promised, locking eyes with Jaskier. “But I’d rather you not get yourself hurt.”

Jaskier tensed and something like fear flickered over his face.

“I shouldn’t get myself hurt?” He let out a laugh that bordered on hysteric. “Geralt, do you have any idea how badly injured you were when I found you?”

Geralt blinked, doing his best to remember. One glance at the half-undone bandage around his arm and the throbbing pain in his muscles let him made an educated guess.

“Pretty badly?”

“Yeah, pretty badly!” Jaskier’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I think you were close to dying. When I found you, you were talking gibberish. I couldn’t understand much, but you sounded so helpless and you said some things that I-“ His voice broke. “I thought I would lose you.”

“I called your name.”

Geralt didn’t recall doing so, but this one was a certainty regardless. If he truly had been dying, or hallucinating, he knew he would have thought of Jaskier in his last moments.

His insides twisted uncomfortably at the thought of what else he might have said. If he had confessed…if he had told Jaskier he loved him… No. Surely, Jaskier wouldn’t have stayed with him for two days if he knew. He would have brought Geralt to safety, but then he would have left, surely.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at Jaskier, trying to find any hint of what might have transpired, but Jaskier’s face was a mask, cracking and thin, but a mask nonetheless.

“Yes,” Jaskier whispered. “You called out for me. I don’t know for how long. I…you told me to stay away, so I tried. I really tried. But you were gone for hours and I still stayed where I was. If I had known – I knew you needed me but I stayed away because I had promised you and you said – I stayed away and you got hurt.”

Geralt jerked at that, looking at Jaskier sharply, but taking his hand as gently as he could.

“Don’t,” he said softly, caressing Jaskier’s knuckles with his thumb in a soothing motion. “You have nothing to blame yourself for. Remember when you said I shouldn’t blame myself for you falling off that cliff?”

“Well, yes,” A bitter line formed between Jaskier’s brows. “But I should have –“

“No. If you had been there, you would have gotten hurt. The toxin would have been worse for you. I’d rather suffer hallucinations than you getting hurt.”

Than Jaskier dying. He didn’t say it out loud, but they both knew that was what Geralt had meant. If Jaskier had been there when the basilisk had breathed its toxic breath, or if he had found Geralt before the wind had dispersed it, he would have been long dead by now.

Jaskier turned slightly to Geralt, his fingers clenching into the hem of his shirt. His other hand came up to rub own wrist, rotating it slowly and grimacing at the motion.

Geralt’s heart dropped. “Jaskier.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier’s wrist. It didn’t look red or swollen, but there was no doubt he was in pain and two days might have been enough for any outward sign of violence to have vanished. Geralt swallowed thickly, his throat restricting more and more with each second that Jaskier rubbed his wrist in a subconscious looking gesture, as if that motion had become a habit over the past days. “Jaskier, did I hurt you?”

“What?” Jaskier blinked and the rotating of his wrist stopped.

“When I was hallucinating, did I attack you? Grab your wrist or…or….” Held him too tightly. Kissed him when he didn’t want to be kissed. There had been tears, salt beneath his lips. Had it been real? Had Jaskier even been there while he had been able to move enough to do such things? There was no way of telling.

Jaskier’s eyes widened and they darted from Geralt’s face to his wrists.

“No!” He almost shouted. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Then what-“

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t hurt me, that’s the important thing. I know you never would.”

Except for when he wasn’t quick enough to protect Jaskier from stones meant for Geralt. When he was the reason Jaskier staggered backwards and fell off a cliff. When he lied to him and made him think that he wasn’t valued. And Geralt would hurt him again when he finally found the courage to tell him the truth about the woodcarvings and shatter Jaskier’s heart with disappointment.

“If you don’t remember what you did,” Jaskier said slowly, “Do you…do you remember anything I said to you?”

Geralt wrecked his brain. Vague memories of Jaskier blurred into existence. Jaskier smiling and playing the lute. A wolf pinning him to the ground and turning into Jaskier. Jaskier telling him he loved him.

Geralt’s throat went tight as he latched onto that last memory. What a merciful hallucination it would have been if he had died. How cruel it was now that he was still alive and knowing it hadn’t been real.

“No,” he said thickly. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Oh, good.” Jaskier let out a sigh of relief and sagged against Geralt. “That’s probably for the best. I- your hallucinations probably weren’t very pleasant.”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. His heart clenched thinking back to those sweet words his fake-Jaskier had spoken to him and the way he had touched him.

“I prefer the real you,” he said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. Yet, it was true. No hallucination that granted Geralt exactly what he yearned for could ever compare to being with the real Jaskier, even though his heart ached and his fingers longed to touch. It was worth it, if it meant that Jaskier was real, that he still chose to be with Geralt despite everything.

“The real me?” Jaskier looked up at him with wide eyes. “You mean you saw me in your hallucinations?”

When Geralt nodded, Jaskier blanched and drew away. The space where they had touched before was already feeling cold and Geralt wanted nothing more than to lean back in.

“Did I – so you do remember something.” A look of heartbreak flashed across his face. “Geralt, please tell me if that hallucination me said or did anything to hurt you. I don’t – I swear, whatever it was, it isn’t how I really feel.”

Geralt couldn’t repress his flinch. “I know.”

“Good. Good.” Jaskier’s hands twisted together. “We’re friends, right? I would never hurt you. I don’t want to lose you.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Geralt’s lips. Jaskier’s words gave him the courage he hadn’t known he had lacked, and he scooted closer, putting his free arm around Jaskier and pulling him into a one-armed hug.

Jaskier flung himself at him and buried his head in Geralt’s chest. He was so impossibly close. For a heartbeat, Geralt thought he was somewhere else, that he was lying on the frozen forest floor with Jaskier in his arms and able to press a kiss against his throat. He wished he could do it now, but all he did was tighten his arm around Jaskier.

“We’re friends,” he mumbled in Jaskier’s hair, half to soothe Jaskier’s guilt and worry and half to remind himself of what he had to lose if he did something foolish like kiss Jaskier. His own words hurt as much as they elevated Geralt. Holding Jaskier like this made it all worth it, even if nothing more would come of it. If all Jaskier would want him to give him was friendship and comfort, then that was already more than Geralt had thought possible for a long time. If this was all it would ever be, then Geralt could count himself lucky.

“You won’t lose me,” Geralt said and stroked Jaskier’s back lightly in the way that always calmed Jaskier when he was distressed enough to seek out Geralt’s touch. “Not to a basilisk and not to anything else.”

He could feel Jaskier smile against his chest. “You’re not going to lose me either.”

Jaskier lifted his head just enough to look up at Geralt through his lashes. The sight took Geralt’s breath away. He moved his hand to smooth the fringe out of his forehead so he could better see his eyes. The scar that was silver and human and there because Jaskier didn’t care that Geralt was a witcher, even if he couldn’t love him. Geralt could get drunk on just having Jaskier near him like this.

Geralt lifted his other arm to pull him even closer and hissed as unexpected pain shot through him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier sat up in alarm. “Did I-“

“No. No it’s my own fault. I forgot about the arm.”

Evidently that did nothing to calm Jaskier, for his expression became focussed.

“Let me look at it.” Without waiting for Geralt’s response – not that he would have refused Jaskier’s care – he took hold of Geralt’s injured arm and carefully unwrapped the bandage. “I should have done that when I came in but I was so distracted by you being awake that I –“

“Hey,” Geralt interrupted him gently and took Jaskier’s chin in his free hand, making him look up. “Don’t worry. I’d much rather have you hold me in your arms than you having to worry about me.”

He froze. He hadn’t meant to say that last part. It was too much, too close to the truth.

But Jaskier only huffed. “You’re not getting out of me fussing over you by saying some sweet words. I can worry and take care of you. I’ll have you know that I am excellent at multitasking.”

“Of course you are.” Geralt rolled his eyes but didn’t even attempt to keep the fondness out of his voice.

Ever so gently, Jaskier prodded at the skin around Geralt’s wound. Geralt winced. It should have healed fully by now, but the toxin in his bloodstream had given it an ugly purple colour that was still visible around the edges, even though the bone was thankfully set again.

“Don’t worry,” he said when Jaskier pulled his lip between his teeth. “It’ll go away. It’s just the venom that made it look like that.”

Jaskier gave him a strange look. “That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

He stood up again, making Geralt miss his touch as soon as it was taken from him. Determined, Jaskier strode across the room and rummaged through a bag Geralt hadn’t seen before. It was the bag containing his potions and other medical supplies.

A sigh of relief heaved his chest. A smile stretched his lips when Jaskier found the right potion and salve almost immediately and came back to him.

With tender motions, Jaskier rubbed the salve into Geralt’s skin and then held up the bottle to his lips.

Geralt’s brows shot up, but he forced himself to let Jaskier tip back his head and pour some of the potion into his mouth. He could have done it himself easily and he was well aware that after two days of taking care of him, Jaskier must have just gotten used to doing things like this for him. Helping Geralt drink was nothing special to him, and yet it felt intimate in a way that made Geralt’s entire skin tingle. Jaskier had always taken comfort in being able to help Geralt. Sometimes Geralt got the impression that not being able to do anything was worse for Jaskier than doing something in an overcomplicated way.

So by all accounts, helping Geralt now should have calmed Jaskier, but when he pulled away again, his hands were shaking.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Geralt repeated. “I am alive. Because of you.”

Jaskier gave him a crooked smile. “Does that mean you admit that you need me?”

It was clear that he was teasing Geralt, but there was something desperately hopeful in his voice.

“Do I need to need you?” Geralt asked, cursing his own tongue when Jaskier’s face fell. Hurriedly, he added, “I do. But I told you before, I don’t like having you around because you’re useful or because I need you. I would still be your friend if I didn’t need you.”

It wasn’t intended as a lie, but even while Geralt spoke the words, he knew they weren’t true. Not really. He couldn’t be Jaskier’s friend without needing him. Not when every fibre of his being needed to be close to Jaskier, to lean into his touch, to relish in his smiles, to drift closer to him when he sang.

It was true that Geralt would still like Jaskier if he never helped with coin, setting up camp or taking care of him again. But all of those things were Jaskier. Those were things that were important to him. For some reason that Geralt couldn’t begin to understand, helping him was important to Jaskier.

But even if it wasn’t, Geralt would still always need Jaskier.

Jaskier’s breath hitched and blinking rapidly, he turned away to put the potion bottle onto the nightstand. He took longer than he needed to to arrange the bottle and the salve, hiding his face away from Geralt, but he couldn’t hide the smell of salt that stung in Geralt’s nose.

“Jaskier?” He asked tentatively, hesitating just a moment, before settling his hand on Jaskier’s back and rubbing soothing circles into it once again. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to –“

“No.” Jaskier turned back to him with a smile and eyes that were just a little too shiny. “The same goes back to you. I – you are important to me.”

Jaskier’s hand clenched and flexed against his own thigh, before he gathered the bandages he must have prepared without Geralt noticing and held his hand out for Geralt’s arm, which he placed in the familiar touch without hesitation.

“You know,” Geralt began when Jaskier turned his arm to get the right angle. “I don’t like having my arm in a sling.”

The idea alone of not being able to use one of his arms made his skin crawl. If it were just him, that would be alight, but if his fighting was hindered while Jaskier was with him, that would put his friend in danger as well.

Jaskier’s eyes blazed and he very pointedly kept rolling the bandage around his arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry that it makes you a little uncomfortable,” he teased. “But I’m not going to argue with you about this. I’m taking care of you in the way the healer I took you to told me and nothing less.”

Geralt grunted. “I don’t like it when people take care of my wounds either.” He hesitated. “It’s too…letting someone so close to your injuries, letting them know your weak points and being vulnerable around them…it’s dangerous.”

Jaskier froze mid-motion and his shoulders twitched, as if he wanted to jerk back. He kept his eyes trained on the bandage, but Geralt could see them flicker to the side, as if he wanted to look in Geralt’s face but didn’t dare to.

“Geralt,” he whispered in a voice more serious than Geralt had heard him use in a long time. “I would never hurt you. I’d rather get hurt myself than take advantage of you being vulnerable.”

“I know,” Geralt said, placing his free hand over Jaskier’s and guiding him to continue his work.

It wasn’t true. Jaskier had the ability to hurt him worse than any basilisk ever could. When Geralt had thought Jaskier might be dying, he had felt as if his own chest was ripped open. When Jaskier had first found one of his wooden figures, Geralt had been more afraid of him knowing that Geralt had been the one to carve them and mock him for it, than he had ever been afraid of facing a horde of ghouls. When Jaskier had started singing those sweet songs about the person he loved that Geralt could never even come close to, his heart had ached.

He believed Jaskier that he didn’t want to hurt him and would never do so maliciously, but that didn’t change that Jaskier hurt him nonetheless. Yet, it was an ache Geralt welcomed gladly, because it came from loving Jaskier and that made all the difference.

Geralt gave Jaskier’s hand a little squeeze. “That’s why you are the only one besides my brothers that I let patch me up. I don’t mind if it’s you doing it. I trust you.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier swallowed thickly and his lips trembled when they stretched into a smile. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“You never could.” The words left Geralt so quietly, that he wasn’t sure if Jaskier had heard them. If he had, he gave no sign of it.

Jaskier kept his eyes on the task as he reapplied the bandage and Geralt took the opportunity to watch him. The way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. The way his tongue peaked out between his lips. The way his hands still trembled when he finished his task.

When he pulled his hands away, Geralt caught one of them with his free hand. Jaskier sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn’t speak. He just stared at Geralt with wide eyes as Geralt rubbed his thumb gently over his wrist, before turning it over.

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. The palms of Jaskier’s hand held traces of an angry red and they were covered in blisters.

“What happened?” Geralt asked stunned, carefully caressing each of Jaskier’s fingers.

“Ah, nothing.”

Geralt pressed his lips into a thin line. They both knew it wasn’t nothing and Geralt had the sinking feeling that he knew exactly what had caused this.

Geralt had been out for two days and by the looks of the barren room, Jaskier hadn’t brought much of their belongings with him when he had gotten Geralt out of the woods. Only the bag with Geralt’s potions, his swords and his own lute. At least that was all Geralt could see in this room. No coin pouch. Geralt hadn’t gotten paid for the basilisk yet and they didn’t have the coin they had saved with them, which could only mean –

“How much did you have to play to earn enough to pay for this room and a healer?” Geralt asked thinly. Geralt looked closer at Jaskier. At the way his shoulders appeared tense, at how his eyes were sunken in. The bed they were sitting on suddenly felt smaller than before. Certainly too small for Jaskier to sleep in comfortably while Geralt was taking up almost all of the space. “Did you get any sleep?”

A faint red colour rose in Jaskier’s cheek. “Of course I got some sleep,” he said, but avoided Geralt’s eyes. “And don’t worry about the cost for the room. I have an arrangement with the innkeeper and you know that I won’t ever say no to a chance to perform.”

“You should,” Geralt said with a frown, caressing Jaskier’s palm once again, “if they make you play so much that you hurt yourself.”

This was exactly what Geralt had wanted to avoid. For weeks, he had done all he could to make sure Jaskier didn’t have to work too much, that he saw that Geralt liked taking care of him. Now, Geralt had become a burden to Jaskier. He had turned into the reason why Jaskier had worked himself into the ground.

With his free hand, Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck, wincing, when he must have put too much pressure on the blisters there. “Well, I had to keep myself distracted somehow and I felt like creating was a good way to do that. I don’t think I could have slept much while you were fighting the venom, anyway.”

“I’m not anymore.” Reluctantly, Geralt let go of Jaskier’s hand. “You should go to sleep. I’ll just take care of your hands first.”

Jaskier’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “You don’t have to-“

“Jaskier,” Geralt said softly but with emphasis. “You took care of me for days. Let me make sure you’re not in pain yourself.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jaskier said quietly, but he didn’t try to stop Geralt when he walked over to the bag with the medical supplies and searched for an ointment he always carried with him, ever since he had first started woodcarving and had gotten blisters in places he usually didn’t. By now, his skin had gotten so used to the motions used for whittling that he didn’t get the blisters anymore, but he still made sure to always have some of that ointment with him, just in case.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s not that bad.” He sat back down and placed Jaskier’s hand on his thigh, palm up, so he could carefully rub some of the ointment onto the blisters. He had to forcibly resist pressing a small kiss on Jaskier’s sore hands as well. “You need your hands. And even if you didn’t need them for playing, I don’t like seeing you in pain. Any amount of it.”

Jaskier’s lips twitched. “The same goes for you.”

“Good thing I have you to take care of me then,” Geralt said with a small smile.

“Yeah. Good for me too.”

When Geralt was done and proclaimed that Jaskier’s hands should be alright soon, Jaskier gave him a look so soft that it took Geralt’s breath away and he barely put up any protest when Geralt told him to go to bed.

“It’s a bit small for two people,” Jaskier said apologetically, even while shrugging off his doublet. “Sorry, I didn’t exactly have the means to rent a bigger room and I was a little preoccupied and didn’t have a head for haggling.”

“It’s alright,” Geralt said, placing his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. “We have shared before and it’s cold anyway.”

“You don’t mind?”

Geralt shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, while his heart was already racing at the thought of getting to hold Jaskier close again.

“It’s only practical, isn’t it? And it’s not really any different from when we laid like this before.”

Except, when they arranged themselves in the too small bed, it became apparent quickly, that it was definitely different. When they had slept close together in the woods, they had still had the space of two bedrolls. Even in most rooms they had rented, they had had a bed of an acceptable size for two people.

This bed, though, truly didn’t allow for two people to lie next to each other. Which meant that after some awkward minutes of arranging and rearranging, they finally settled with Jaskier practically lying on top of Geralt.

Their chests rose and fell together as they breathed and Geralt could feel Jaskier’s heart against his. Slowly, he lifted his uninjured arm and put it over Jaskier’s waist, holding onto him, partly to keep him from falling off in the night and partly because he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to be as close to Jaskier as he possibly could.

Jaskier snuggled into him, nuzzling at his neck and sighing contently in his sleep. His hair tickled Geralt’s nose, but he didn’t turn his face away.

Instead, Geralt breathed in deeply, inhaling the fainting scent of the soap Geralt had gifted to Jaskier a while back and that now must have been lost at camp together with most of Jaskier’s possession. The scent was mixed with the sweet smell of wood that was so often accompanied by Jaskier’s joy and excitement when he found one of Geralt’s carvings.

The carvings that still sat in a bag, which wasn’t in this room. Geralt’s stomach clenched and he tightened his hold on Jaskier.

In his rush to get Geralt to safety, he had abandoned the gifts that meant so much to him. A year worth of memories, of luck and inspiration – and unbeknownst to Jaskier - a year of silent confessions, of gratefulness and love. And he had left it behind to help Geralt.

Jaskier hadn’t mentioned it, not with a single word and somehow that made it worse. Had Jaskier been bemoaning the loss of the carvings, it would have seemed more normal for him. But if Jaskier kept silent about it, not wanting to share how he felt – or perhaps thinking Geralt would judge him for it because he might think he himself was more important than how Jaskier felt? – didn’t sit right with Geralt.

Something in Geralt’s chest twisted painfully, as his eyes fell onto the lonely figure that Jaskier had placed on the nightstand before going to sleep. A lone wolf, watching over them in the night.

The one figure Geralt had promised to bring back to Jaskier. The one that meant more to him than the others. It wasn’t enough. Jaskier should have had to give up something that was so important to him, for Geralt.

A quiet yet strong resolve hardened in Geralt’s chest.

He would get the other figures back to Jaskier. And when he did – when he gave them to Jaskier for a second time, this time doing so openly as Jaskier deserved – he would tell him. He would tell him that he had been the one who had given them to him the first time around too.

He nearly felt the eyes of the wolf figure boring into him as he gave himself that silent promise, before he too drifted off to sleep, with Jaskier held in his arms just as tightly as Jaskier was holding him, both of them needing to protect the other even in their sleep.

The cool draft coming in through the window together with the morning sun made Jaskier shiver and nestled closer against Geralt. His warm breath that caressed Geralt’s throat was a stark contrast to the cold of the room and made Geralt shiver.

“Geralt?” Jaskier mumbled against him sleepily.

“Hm?”

“’s cold.”

With a soft hum of agreement and a smile so soft that he was glad Jaskier couldn’t see it with his face buried in his neck, Geralt grabbed the blanket that had half fallen off them in the night and pulled it over Jaskier again, taking more time than necessary to tuck it around Jaskier and smooth it out over him.

Jaskier let out a content sigh. “Thank you, dear.”

“You could have done that yourself easily,” Geralt said without even a hint of heat.

“Yes, but I recall someone telling me that they were going to take care of me.” He lifted his head a little so he could look at Geralt and his eyes were twinkling with lazy mirth. “Having regrets yet?”

Geralt answered with an equally lazy grunt that could have meant anything. Jaskier rolled his eyes and let himself flop back onto Geralt’s chest.

“Wake me when it’s warmer,” Jaskier said and Geralt could feel the flutter of his eyelashes against his chest as he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Geralt had things to do. He should look after Roach and try to get pay for the basilisk, even though he didn’t have the trophy with him. He should also find out where their camp had been to get all their stuff back. He had to clean his swords, lest they rusted again.

There was so much to do. And yet, as Jaskier mumbled nonsense in his sleep and pressed against Geralt, seeking warmth, Geralt found that he didn’t mind spending a lazy morning in bed.

“You, Geralt of Rivia, are a liar.” Jaskier narrowed his eyes as they walked down the street to the alderman’s house. “A liar and a cad!”

Geralt’s brows rose in amusement and question. Jaskier lifted his chin haughtily.

“You said it was warmer and that I had to get out of bed.”

“It is warmer.”

Jaskier spluttered. “It’s very decidedly not!”

Geralt grunted in disagreement, though he too was inwardly cursing the weather that forced him to confront a truth that he had wanted to forget.

Down south at the coast, it had been so easy to pretend that it was still summer, but now, further up north, the brown leaves littering the forest floors and the people in the streets wearing woollen cloaks and hurrying to get to their destination instead of strolling along merrily, made it abundantly clear that summer had long since slipped through their fingers.

“No, don’t just grunt like that. I’m being serious. Here, look!” Jaskier lifted his hands and waved them in front of Geralt’s face. “Look at how red my fingers are from the cold. A few days more and I won’t be able to play my lute outside anymore.”

Something twinged in Geralt’s stomach. “You’re really that cold?”

Without thinking, he took Jaskier’s hands in his, gentle so as not to aggravate the blisters. They weren’t nearly as cold as Jaskier made them out to be, but they still trembled when Geralt ran a thumb over his knuckles. Geralt hesitated, before bringing his hands to his lips and blowing a warm breath onto them before rubbing them gently. He was glad for the umpteenth time that day, that Jaskier had deemed his arm healed enough that he didn’t need to wear it in a sling anymore, if only so he could hold Jaskier’s hands in both of his.

“Better?” He asked hoarsely.

“I-yes.” When Geralt nodded and made to pull away again, Jaskier held onto his hands. “Could you maybe…I mean, my hands are going to get cold again if you let go.”

Geralt didn’t reply. He didn’t think he’d be able to find the right words with how tight his throat suddenly was, but as they continued on, he kept holding on to one of Jaskier’s hands. His heart fluttered when Jaskier twisted his hand a little to thread their fingers together and when he risked a quick glance at Jaskier out of the corner of his eyes, Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed red, from where the wind bit into his skin.

“We should find you some warmer clothes,” Geralt said, realising a second too late, that he probably shouldn’t have included himself into that statement. “It’ll be winter soon.”

Jaskier cast his eyes down, staring intently at the pavement as he walked. “Don’t worry, Oxenfurt is never that cold in winter. At least they heat up the lecture halls now. That’s really an improvement. And I have quite the spectacular collection of cosy blankets at my place there.” He didn’t look up when his lips twisted into a small smile, but Geralt didn’t need to see his eyes to know his smile didn’t reach them. “And I suppose, we won’t travel together for much longer, will we? A couple more weeks at the most? I can go that little time without warmer clothes.”

He didn’t need to add that with their coin pouch left in the woods, they wouldn’t have the coin for that anyway, not if they wanted to continue sleeping in inns instead of in the woods where the wind would freeze them to the bone, even with their tent. Which they had also left behind.

Geralt’s stomach dropped. The weeks before winter, Jaskier was usually seized by an inexplicable melancholy and it would always be obvious that he wasn’t happy. In the past years, Geralt had done his best to accommodate him still, buy him mulled wine to warm him, make sure they stuck to towns in which Jaskier’s singing would be appreciated and taking contracts that would fill Geralt’s pockets enough that Jaskier wouldn’t have to worry about going hungry as it got colder. Now though, with most of their belongings gone, Geralt had no means of making these last weeks in any way comfortable for Jaskier. Even the cheap inn room Jaskier had gotten for them, was much smaller and less comfortable than Jaskier deserved.

A couple more weeks with Jaskier wasn’t enough. But he was right. It was getting close to the time they would normally split, when Geralt would make his way up to the Blue Mountains and Jaskier would try to find a merchant caravan he could join on the way to Oxenfurt. It wasn’t enough time.

And with how things were going, Geralt wouldn’t be able to fault Jaskier if he decided to cut their time short and leave as soon as possible. How long, until Jaskier realised that Geralt wasn’t able to provide for him and take care of him as he had promised - as he so desperately wanted to?

Throughout the year, ever since finding the carvings, Jaskier had insisted that he would stay with Geralt. “You won’t get rid of me at all this year until winter comes,” he had said. Geralt had forgotten just how quickly that would happen, how quickly he was about to lose Jaskier again.

And as every year, with that realisation came the dread and the sharp stab of fear through his chest that told him that maybe once they split, Jaskier would realise that he was much better off without Geralt. Once he was welcomed back by his friends – and possibly by the beloved he had been pining for for so long – at Oxenfurt, he would see that he shouldn’t go back to Geralt, that even Geralt’s most heartfelt attempts at showing him how much he meant to him, were pitiful compared to what other people could give him.

And yet, Jaskier had returned, every single year, like the sun who would always climb over the horizon, no matter how cold, long and lonely a night might have felt. Jaskier always left, but he also always came back.

Somewhere in the back of Geralt’s mind, Essi’s voice chimed in. Hadn’t she warned him against these kinds of fears? She had been so adamant about making Geralt see that they were unfounded – and that Jaskier shared them.

Geralt chanced a glance at Jaskier, whose brows were drawn together, even as he still wore that brittle smile on his face.

“I’ve never been to Oxenfurt,” Geralt began slowly. “Maybe I could come there in spring and you could show me around?”

Jaskier’s breath hitched and when he looked back up at Geralt, his eyes were full of dawning wonder. “You want to visit me?”

Geralt shrugged. Years of doubt and the need to hide away anything that could be used against him, screamed at him to stop talking, to take it back, to not let Jaskier know –

But he needed Jaskier to know. This one truth was branded into his heart; that Jaskier wouldn’t hurt him when he bared his throat to him. So Geralt kept talking.

“If you wanted me to. I’ve already met Essi and she was nice. I’m sure your other friends at Oxenfurt will be too.”

He bit his tongue. Had that been too much? Sure, Jaskier had introduced him to Essi, but it still could have been presumptuous of Geralt to assume Jaskier would want his other friends to meet him too.

He needn’t have worried. Jaskier’s lips stretched into the widest grin and his hand squeezed Geralt’s, as if he couldn’t contain all of his feelings.

“You’ll love them!” Jaskier promised and with a wink added, “Not all of them are bards, so there are some that won’t annoy you endlessly.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed. “Not all bards annoy me.”

Something soft and hopeful flickered across Jaskier’s face, before his grin widened. “Is that a challenge?”

Geralt’s lips twitched up. “I was there when Lambert was a teenager,” Geralt said in way of explaining.

Jaskier opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes darted away and his lips pressed together tightly.

Geralt’s chest clenched at the sight.

“You know,” he said slowly, praying he wasn’t misreading Jaskier’s sudden hesitance. “I think the two of you would get along. I can ask him to meet up on the Path next year if you want to meet him.”

“Really?” Jaskier’s voice was as bright as his shining eyes. “You would do that?”

Geralt hummed in affirmation. “He’ll be a prick and say he won’t want to meet you, but he’s been making fun of me for being friends with you for years so he’ll definitely come.”

“Oh.” Jaskier swallowed audibly and he pulled his hand away from Geralt’s, leaving Geralt’s own hand cold and painfully empty.

“Jaskier? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. That he made fun of you because of me. I didn’t think…I had hoped being friends with me wasn’t a bad thing for you.”

Geralt’s insides went cold. Abruptly, he stopped in his steps, taking Jaskier’s shoulders in his hands and turning him to face him, so he could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“Jaskier, listen to me. Being your friend is the best thing that happened to me in my life. Lambert’s not…he doesn’t mean it like that.”

“No?”

“No.” Geralt gave Jaskier’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“Then what does he mean?”

“He-“ Geralt’s word froze in his throat.

Years of teasing flashed through his mind. Lambert making fun of him for having made a friend that will ruin his reputation of being a lone wolf and a brooder. Lambert riling him up by claiming that Geralt smiled every time one of the other wolves mentioned his travel companion. Lambert nudging Geralt in the ribs while they had both been deep in their cups and saying that everybody knew that Jaskier was more than just a friend to him. It hadn’t been true then. Or perhaps it had been and Geralt just hadn’t known it yet. Now though, looking at Jaskier who had tilted his head to the side like a curious bird and leaning into his touch instead of flinching away, Geralt knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Lambert had been right.

Geralt swallowed thickly. “He’s teasing me, because you’ve proven me wrong,” he settled on finally. A half-truth, but still coming from deep within Geralt’s heart.

“Oh? How so?”

Geralt softened a little. “I always claimed I wanted nothing and needed no one.”

Jaskier’s lips parted in silent wonder.

Suddenly feeling awkward again, Geralt let go of Jaskier’s shoulders as if he had burned himself and took a step back. At least that was what he tried to do. He didn’t get very far.

Before he could so much as shift his weight backwards, Jaskier had stepped into his space and pulled him closer again.

Geralt stiffened as Jaskier’s arms encircled him, but after a moment, he melted into the embrace, returning it as tenderly as he could and pouring everything he felt into it.

“I’ll come to Oxenfurt to see you,” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s hair, just to say it again. “And then we’ll travel again. I could show you Beauclair’s vineyards when the grapes are ripe. Or I could bring you to the valley of flowers again when it’s in full bloom. We- we could visit the coast again, if you’d like.”

Anything. Anything, as long as it made Jaskier happy and as long as they were going there together.

Jaskier didn’t reply, but he tightened his hug and that was reply enough.

---

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#wood carving #geraskier #fic #fanfic #multichapter #my writing #witcher #witcher fic #geraltxjaskier #geralt #jaskier #hallucinations #blood #injury #let's see if I can manage to fit everything that needs to happen into one last chapter #i have zero faith but a lot of stubbornness

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Text

[Previous Post]

By his calculation, it was no real surprise that she couldn't remember anything that she'd said to him.

She had been floating on the edge of elixir and the aftershocks it left in her system, most of what left her lips was nonsensical, at worst. She had far more clarity with her ability to speak but she had been easily distracted and confused if he let her talk without some kind of motivation.

Ray hadn't even had to pry. It was as if she were a Goddess who truly knew everything. She knew things that Ray had to double check for their authenticity but found she was right every step of the way there. There were things that he would have otherwise had no way to know, but she was right enough for him to put every word to thought.

She had firm thoughts and opinions, and it was precious to see her get upset over nothing. She would get so inflamed over this or that, but she spoke of the stories of himself and those around him like it was her livelihood. As if the world around them was her everything.

However, some of her tone needed to be corrected. She spoke highly of much of the RFA, even if she was able to easily proclaim what she saw as a perceived fear or hesitance. He didn't care if she pitied the most of them… he just didn't want her to feel anything for the liar and the traitor. It's why he didn't ask about them.

But, the rest of the members?

He had enough information to draw out anything he wanted from them. She even had her own suggestions for what could work on them. He noted it in her phone, where she had been trying to figure out what may bring the RFA to Mint Eye. It was amusing to think she had considered it before meeting him. It was just another reminder that she was meant to be a saint to Mint Eye.

Setting aside his feelings in knowing that her information had been given to her because of a game, he knew it didn’t matter how she got it. She wielded it with grace and luxury in her hands. She built upon the backs of what she had been handed and made it stronger... she found holes in stories and mended them by her hands.

"Princess, relax for me," he was as gentle as he could be but she simply hadn't had the time to learn how to sit still. She was coming more and more out of her gaze so she was having such a hard time with her tremors. "I know it's hard. But I need you to look your best today."

Either way, Ray had what he needed and plans could begin. But, right now, he had something even more important to think of. His Savior wanted to meet the person who would save Paradise with ease, his precious one. He tutted when he felt her squirm underneath his hand, smoothing out the brush against her messy curls as he did.

Kaitlyn blinked a few times and then looked at the reflection in the mirror. She would see Ray fretting over little things as he did but she hadn’t quite realized how much work he was doing. He had taken great care to make her look exactly as radiant as she was. If they didn't see it before, they would see it in front of the Savior.

He caught her hand before it could touch her hand, and he lowered it back down onto her lap with a tight smile. He spent an awfully long time making her messy curls tighter and consistent. He didn’t want her to mess any of it up because she wasn’t in the state of mind to look at herself just yet.

She was easily placated, though.

All it’d taken to make her listen to him in the first place was to wrap his coat around her shoulders. She stopped shivering and shaking when he did. It was almost adorable. Compared to the acidic mint and undertones of alcohol within the potion, he imagined the floral scent calmed her down. Aromatherapy was a good idea! If he could’ve taken her back to the garden...

As the clarity was slowly returning, she seemed like in a daze and more of a frenzy. Her eyes darted all over the place as she strained to figure out where she was and why she was there. He knew that feeling, it happened often as he came out of the buzz that elixir warranted to those that survived the first trial.

"Why…?"

"You're meeting with my Savior, remember?"

He frowned. What did she have to be afraid of? Did she misunderstand how lucky she was? Or, was the elixir still making her fearful to be alone with other people except for him? She would cry out with names that he couldn’t recall or know, after all. She might’ve been scared to make a fool of herself in front of his Savior.

Something akin to fear flashed in her eyes, “I thought... I thought you said she was okay with us being together, Ray.”

“Of course! My Savior promised that we’ll be together, but she wants to meet you so our mission can begin. After all, she wants to formally greet you as a true member of paradise! You took the elixir so well, too. It’s amazing. So, she wants you to see our paradise now that you’re able to function properly.”

She’d seen worse.

—

“I’m...”

“A member of paradise,” Rika spoke with resolution. Her emerald eyes flickered over the newcomer, as if sizing her up and trying to figure out the best way to be able to pick her mind apart. “It’s a pleasure to welcome you to Magenta, for the first time, officially. While you must be surprised to be here with you, I must thank you for offering your wisdom and insight to ensure our success.”

To put it plainly, Rika was searching for something in between the lines. Ray had said over and over that her information knew no bounds but there were parts of it that he couldn’t gain access to quite yet. She knew everything about them and yet, she was devoted to the cause. She had no doubt in her mind after what he’d shown her on that phone.

She always imagined that she would have to tether Ray with a string to keep him to obey but now she had two tools to use at her disposal. She not only had Ray who worked himself like a dog for the smallest grain of affection, and now, this girl who would do anything for Ray and the paradise that he wanted to hold so badly.

Photos that couldn’t exist in this world as they existed in quality unlike their own. Information about everything and everyone that nobody was ever meant to get into their hands. Reports and essays that could rival anyone in their terms of control and clarity. Her devotion to Ray was something else, and it could readily be used and manipulated.

An idealistic young woman who believed in empathy and shining love. She was a realist but her romantic heart could sway her to be bent easily. It reminded her much of herself before she realized her true potential. A shining light was easy to capture as long as you had the right tools.

Then, she would finally feel the light of salvation.

This could be a useful love.

Love built upon obsession that came from sincere bonds. Unlike the way that her former flame had done. His love had burned and devoured every part of her heart and now... she could take back her precious family from his clutches and wave this love in his face. She could use it, she could use them, and she was going to do so.

Though, Ray seemed to have dosed her with more than she expected. Her eyes still looked glossy even though she had enough clarity to realize the situation at hand. Her hand nervously fiddled with the fabric of the borrowed coat she wore, as her eyes darted left to right, not wanting to meet Rika’s gaze.

No matter, it was a delight either way to see things working.

Though this girl was taller than she was, she paid no mind, resting her hand against her shoulder to catch her attention. “You don’t need to worry about a thing. You’ve proven your capability already with your charming perspective, I must say, you’re a delightful read when you tear people down. You’ve seen the things I’ve always overlooked.”

“Ah, I...” Kaitlyn murmured. It was a small nod to indicate that she’d heard what Rika said. “I... I like to study people, it’s a hobby... I’m not that great for what it's worth.”

Oh.

An insecurity.

“Ray has shown me otherwise. Your words will be the very thing that save my precious mistreated family. I’m interested to hear more about what you think we should do. After all, someone as devoted as you can only know talent. Trust me, I know skill when I see it. I welcome it to our paradise because we need people like you.”

“...Thank you, Savior,” the words seemed foreign against her lips but she had managed to catch herself in time. She seemed to be good in print but in need with her actual words. “I... I’m thankful you see it that way. I’m... I’m happy you have welcomed me.”

Rika’s attention shifted back to Ray. He seemed to be eyeing his plaything with a serious fever in his eyes. It could’ve been a problem, but... as long as she knew that this infatuation was going to secure paradise, she would allow it. It wasn’t as if they would be able to turn away from their promised future. It was a given, and Ray would never let go of it, now.

She smiled.

What a frightened little rabbit.

“Ray, be a dear and see to it that she’s comfortable. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us if we want to achieve our goals within the next few months... aren’t you pleased it won’t take years to succeed now? All you’ve ever wanted, you’ve got it in your grasps. Don’t lose sight of that,” her voice was clear. “To get what you want, you must never look away from what’s ahead. No matter how ugly it seems. After all, I have a strong feeling that our dear Kaitlyn will have them on their knees soon enough.”

His expression changed with that. His lips curled upward and he nodded, his way of saying he understood. The bloodlust in his eyes... now, that was what she wanted to hold onto. As long as he behaved, as long as he kept his dream ahead, paradise would thrive, and she would have what she wanted. Jihyun on his hands and knees, begging for mercy.

And she’d snap him like a twig for thinking she’d given him a chance after what he did.

Rika stepped back and Ray stepped forward. He took her by the hand and let her gaze into his eyes, that cloudy look leaving him as he played the role that he wanted. Pity, he wanted to be a prince when he was better suited for something else. Well, in due time, she thought.

“I’ll begin preparations, my Savior. For eternal paradise.”

“For eternal paradise, my children.”

#self insert #danger ray #drabble #mod kait

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harrypotterbrainworms · 4 years

Text

Valentine’s Doom

Summary: A very oblivious young boy has caught the loving eyes of Remus Lupin, but how can one express his feelings if every time (Y/N) opens his mouth, Remus melts like a box of chocolates in the sun.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N)- your name, (H/C)- hair colour, (N/N)- nickname

Words: 2587

A/N: I spent way to long on this, almost a week ;-;. I hope you enjoy it!

“Remussss, please. Pretty please with a cherry on top. I promise I’ll make it up to you” (Y/N) pleaded Remus to let him copy his homework. He had completely forgotten to do his own which was mostly Sirius’s fault, keeping him up all night.

“You do realise you have to do your homework in order to graduate, right? It’s a basic skill to have.” He cocked his eyebrow, looking up at the pleading boy in front of him.

“I know, I know, Blah blah, if you don’t learn you’ll never survive in the “real” world. I know the spiel.” He rambled on, motioning a small Remus puppet with his hand mocking the tone of his friend’s warnings.

He had spent the whole night playing tag with Sirius and racing around the courtyard like the drunk children they were. Remus knew this of course, waking up every so often to look down at them being idiots from the tower.

“And yet you still go on late night joy rides with Sirius” He sighed and closed the book he was reading as he watched his friends stuff their faces with toast and eggs.

“Please, Moony.” He begged once more, pulling the sweet and innocent face he knew Remus couldn’t say no to, even adding a slight quivering lip for dramatic affect.

The shorter boy pressed his fingers against his temples trying his best to distract himself from the sweet face of his friend, but gave in.

“Fine, last time I swear to Merlin.” He repeated the same line he always said when (Y/N) or any of his friends asked. He always managed to give in too soon to the pleads.

“Thank you!” (L/N) chirped up giving Remus the warmest smile he could, taking the few pages Remus handed him then took his seat again.

“Y-You’re welcome.” He stuttered out, blushing a bit. James wiggling his eyebrows at Remus, receiving a death glare in return.

“Padfoot, get your ass here! We have t-minus 20 minutes to copy it all” He pulled Sirius’s arm to climb over the table and sit next to him. Both of them pulled out paper to start.

“Wait you didn’t-“ The flustered boy said, not being able to finish his retort before he was interrupted again.

“Thank you again, Moony. We appreciate this so much” Remus could barely get any words out after that, only being about to nod his head in response. (Y/N) did look like he appreciated his friend’s effort to help him stay in school.

James gave him a knowing smile before continuing to devour his breakfast plate while Remus just sighed looking at the two boys copying his homework.

“You lads are gonna be the death of me.” He finally said, opening up his book again and continuing to eat his own meal.

Remus always thought he fanced boys a lot more than girls, but he knew for sure when he set his eyes on (Y/N) for the first time. They were never that close, not that he had tried to get closer. The taller boy just seemed to take a liking to Sirius more than anyone else in the group, always fooling around and getting into trouble more so than himself and James.

He spent many nights awake with James, while the other two snuck out, talking about (Y/N) and how much he liked everything about him.

The day passed by quickly as they always did, pranks and studying. Waiting for the next moon adventure.

Remus sat in the dull light of the common room that evening, relaxing to the sound of the fireplace when (Y/N) burst through the door as chaotic as ever. Collapsing on the sofa next to him.

“Hi, Moony” He smiled nonchalantly, taking a peak at the book he was reading. Remus partly ignored him, giving him an acknowledging hum.

“Oh, I see you’re reading one of my books. Do you like it?” He said while bending over to read the cover. (Y/N) as dumb as he could be, enjoyed reading just as much as Remus did. A lot of the time they spent together was in the library or reading together.

“I do, rather exciting. Didn’t expect to enjoy it this much, but thank you for borrowing it to me” Remus smiled, making (Y/N) blush a little.

“I’m glad!” He said, thumping back onto the sofa. Now trying to keep up with the pace his friend was reading at. He yawned softly, he was quite exhausted from a long day of school. He was about ready to take a nap.

Laying his head lightly on his friend’s shoulder, he asked Remus to read aloud so he could rest his eyes.

As much as (Y/N) was a pain in his ass, he was a joy to be around. A light in his life unlike the light of his other friends. The heat on his face didn’t help either.

“Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like?" "It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine...” He spoke in a hush tone, narrating the book for (Y/N).

“I love this part, it’s so nice” (Y/N) smiled, getting comfortable for this afternoon nap. Remus stopped for a moment looking at his soft (H/C) hair and sleep ready face.

“Why did you stop? Was it me? I’ll shut up now” He said half asleep, waiting for his friend to continue the story again and that’s how they both fell asleep that late afternoon.

His book laying over his chest, his hands wrapped around the smaller boy like two cats huddled under a sun beam.

The next week was stressful with Valentine’s Day approaching and love in the air, it was all James could speak out.

“Oh Lily, a name so sweet just like the flower. A scent so alluring, oh Lily, my love, oh how can live without you. Life is , but a muggle roller coaster going up with you” He sighed, hugging the small envelope in his arms. Sirius gagged and pretended to throw up while Remus and (Y/N) laughed at his attempt at poetry.

“This is the year, boys. This is the year Lily Evans will be mine” He looked up at the great hall’s morning sky, his eyes twinkling with the love in his heart.

The other Marauders were painfully single, as was James, but the way he talked about Lily you’d think they’re already married. Lily however looked as though she would vomit at any given time James looked at her.

Tomorrow the whole hall would be filled with hearts and love potions. He was sure someone would slip one of them a potion, it happened every year, last year they had to nurse Peter to health ‘cause someone thought it would be funny if Peter fell in love McGonagall.

“Merlin, Prongs. One more word about Lily and I might curse myself” Sirius sighed and hid his own small envelope under his robe.

“How can I?” James sighed once, looking over the Lily who was sitting with her own friends pretending he didn’t exist. He rested his hand on his arm, sighing loudly and dramatically.

The day passed once again leading the five back into their common room, all tired of classes. The conversation immediately leaped to what would happen the next day.

“I bet Lily will finally accept that we are soulmates separated by a tragic past life” James said proudly once again pulling out the small heart littered envelope he had been carrying all day.

“I bet it’ll be another Valentine’s Day alone for you, dear Prongs” Sirius said in a soft and sweet voice, not mirrored with the evil little smirt of his face.

“Fine. Let’s make a bet then. All five of us, come on” James challenged the boys in the room who looked angrily at Sirius who always started these silly bets.

“Okay, Moony? Wormtail? (N/N)? You in?” Sirius chirped

“No way, last time I had to change my hair green and silver.” Remus said shaking his head profusely, Sirius looked at him and (Y/N) with his puppy dog eyes. Almost considering changing himself into a dog to guilt trip them.

“No need to convince me twice, I’m always in for a bet”

“I’m always in too” Peter chimed in, though no one was surprised as he just did whatever James asked anyway. “Fine, I’m in. What’s the bet?” Remus finally gave in after the whole group joined in, he felt as though he was gonna regret this.

“All us dashing young men need to find a date tomorrow. Anyone who’s rejected has to spend the night on the Quidditch pitch, no blankets, no clothing. Only underwear”

“Deal.” Sirius said quickly, shaking James’ hand.

“How do we always get dragged into this?” Remus sighed and let his head fall back onto the sofa, his arms over his face.

The next day was grueling work, everyone already had a date. James hadn’t asked Lily anything yet, his anxiety suddenly overcoming him, Sirius had been slapped in the face about 5 times, (Y/N) remembered he didn’t know anyone else, Peter had actually acquired a date out of some miracle and Remus was nowhere to be seen.

“Anyone see, Moony yet?” Sirius sighed, a small ice pack on his face. All the men looked completely defeated except Peter who had practically skipped over to them with the news he had gotten a date.

“Nope” (Y/N) quickly looked around the great hall as they sat for lunch, he was a little worried about him. Maybe he was brooding somewhere alone. Maybe was crying that he couldn’t find a date, maybe he was-

“I’m gonna go look for him” He stood up quickly, speed walking towards the closest boys bathroom, then the next and the next. He couldn't see him in any of the bathrooms. He was a little more worried now, well a lot more worried.

A little tired and defeated with the next bell ringing, he got to the next class first and to his surprise and relief Remus was there.

“Idiot. You scared us, we barely saw you today, what the fuck?” He came up behind him and flicked his forehead scolding him. He apologised and said he had to fetch a special package from the owlery alone. (Y/N) didn’t ask anything, just glad to see nothing bad happened.

“Any luck on a date?” He said, still waiting for the other classmates to arrive.

“Not yet, might look at real estate on the pitch” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling in his wide smile, flushing (Y/N)’s cheeks a bit.

They chatted for a short while before the last three troublemakers burst through the potion room door. Peter still has a bright smile on his face.

“Why so cheery, Wormtail?”

“He’s the only one of us with a date” James sighed loudly, still clutching his letter for Lily. He looked a lot less confident than yesterday, Peter deflating his ego even more.

The day passed and soon they were sulking on the sofa together, all now very painfully single besides Peter who was happily owling the Hufflepuff girl he had asked out. James finally had the courage to give the letter to Lily who just gave him a small smile before immediately b-lining out of potions. He was crushed, a broken shell of a man, at least that’s how he described it. Sirius had received about ten more slaps across the face. The other two had just accepted they would be huddling for warm on the pitch or so they thought.

“Here guys, we deserve it” Remus stood up suddenly grabbing the mysterious bag he was hiding under the couch.

He handed each one of the boys a small box of handmade chocolate, Remus’ specialty. They all lighted up suddenly at the prospect of chocolate except for (Y/N). Who got discreetly given a slightly bigger box and when he opened it, they were all heart shaped unlike the other threes’.

“Thanks so much, Moony! What would we do without you” (Y/N) smiled brightly, causing Remus to stiffen up a little.

The other two very quickly realised their chocolates were different than the (H/C) boy’s were. They know what was up, but (Y/N) was not in the loop.

“I’ll be back.” Remus quickly said, doing a 180 turn towards the porthole, leaving the others.

“I hope Moony’s okay. Maybe he got rejected.” He frowned looking at the closing door. He wanted to check up on him, but maybe he just wanted to be alone.

The other two in the room looked at each other, at their chocolates and back at (Y/N). They both decided it was about fucking time, if Remus wasn’t gonna do it. They would.

“You really are dense, (Y/N). He likes you, isn’t it obvious?” James said not looking up from his homework as he sat on the desk in the common room. Sirius shrugged in agreement and (Y/N) looked a little shocked.

He looked down at the box of heart shaped chocolates in front of him, everything finally clicking in his mind as he face palmed his brain.

“Oh my god. Wait really?” He questioned again, the thought had never crossed his mind that Remus would feel the same way he did. He never thought Remus was gay like he was though now that he thought about it, it was kind of obvious.

“You really didn’t know?” Sirius said while struggling to unwrap the ribbon off his own valentine chocolates. (Y/N) really felt dumb as a rock.

“Fuck.” He cussed under his breath, quickly exiting the room to find Remus.

He saw a flash of light hair belonging to the boy on his mind, he raced toward him in a fast walk. Quickly catching up and grabbing his shoulder.

“Moony! Wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t know these were those kinds of chocolates” (Y/N) said a little out of breath still clutching the box in his hands, looking at them briefly before turning to the taller boy.

“It’s fine, (N/N). I don’t think you would’ve accepted them anyway.” Remus sighed softly, what looked like a few tears running down his face which (Y/N) immediately wiped off with his finger gently.

He smiled widely at the crying boy next to him, then gave him a huge hug.

“Yes I would have! I would’ve loved getting chocolates like that.” He said brightly, gripping onto the taller boy’s neck tighter. Not wanting to let go.

“You would?” Remus sniffed quietly, barely speaking over a whisper. He breathed into the (Y/N)’s necks, smelling the sweet smell of his coconut shampoo and cologne.

“Of course! I’m sorry I’m a little oblivious sometimes. I do like you, though… a lot.” He said sheepishly, blushing into the crook of Remus’ neck.

“You do?” He questioned again, his crying stopped and he felt very warm and fuzzy. The butterflies in his stomach beating him up.

“YES! Now come eat these with me. We won the bet.” He let go of Remus and grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the common room again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” Sirius said as he saw his two friends hand in hand.

“Looks like we’re sleeping outside” James sighed, looking at the pitch from outside the window...

“So cold.”

#Young!Remus Lupin #young!sirius black #young!james potter #young!peter pettigrew #Young!Remus x Reader #remus lupin x male reader #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #Marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #hp #x reader #x male reader

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nalu4emily · 3 years

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The Unexpected Reward - Chapter 16

Summary: Natsu and Lucy go on a job together, but what they bring home is something neither anticipated. Forced to make a life changing decision, they have to adapt quickly, but that's never easy, especially given the circumstances. As they work together on their toughest adventure yet, they find themselves drawn to one another, in ways they never realised. Nalu/cute/fluff

Rated M for a reason!

"Hey, old lady! Open up!" The slayer bellowed through the tiny keyhole, beating the same spot on the large, ornate door repeatedly with his fist. "I know you're in there; I can smell you!"

"Go away, boy! I don't like visitors!" The occupant shouted from the other side, infuriating the dragon further.

He hammered his fist harder, determined to get some answers. There was no way he was turning back, not after running all this way. He'd kick the door in if he had to.

Haru, who was tucked into his arms, didn't seem to mind the small detour, or the loud clattering and yelling. He was perfectly content playing with anything he could get his hands on, namely Natsu's clothing. The occasional "Mama" or "Dada" would escape him but he mostly babbled nonsense to himself.

"At least you're having a good time. Daddy's starting to lose his patience." Natsu muttered the last bit under his breath, grinning at the child through his chagrin. He turned back to the door, "Look, I won't take up much of your time, I just need your advice. It's about Lucy…"

The door swung open with a rush and a thud, crashing into the very tree it was nailed to, causing leaves to fall from their branches. The noise had stunned Natsu into silence as he stared at the very person he'd come to see—Porlyusica. Dressed in her usual attire, she stepped out onto the porch and glowered at the young man, broom in hand, ready to chase him away.

Opening her mouth to scold him for the disruption, she caught sight of the little one he was carrying and closed it again, her hard lines softening. Instead of beating the slayer with her broom, which was the original plan, she held something out in her palm, expecting him to take it.

Eyeing it curiously, he took it from her hand and held it to his face, inspecting it further. It was a small, glass vile with a cork stopper lid, that contained a strange yellow liquid, its consistency was thick and it reminded Natsu, somewhat, of mashed up baby food—the kind Haru loved to eat.

"It's called morning sickness. Give her a few drops of that potion and it should quell its severity." She explained.

The boy accepted her potion and put it into his pocket for safe keeping, "Thanks! Lucy'll be glad of that. Only, it's not just her sickness that I'm-"

"I know why you're here. I could tell when I saw you all the other day, I'm just surprised it's taken you both this long to come knocking. So, where is she?" Porlyusica asked, looking behind Natsu for the blonde.

"At home actually. She… kinda doesn't know I'm here… but, I can't watch her suffer like that, I need to know what to do." Natsu pleaded, hoping the healer would help him.

She sighed, unable to refuse his request, "Has it been confirmed?"

"Not really… How do you do that?" Natsu asked, his knowledge on such things were limited.

"Get Lucy to test it, she'll understand. Then once it's confirmed, come back to me, I'll need to run some checks." She said, turning to go back inside.

"Checks? What checks?" There went his plan! Lucy would have to see her after all.

"You want a healthy child, don't you?" She said, as if it were obvious.

"U-Uh…"

The fire mage didn't get a chance to think too much into that before the door was slammed shut in his face, making him along with the baby jump.

The wind picked up a little as he turned to walk away, looking down at Haru, who was starting to snuggle down against his chest. Natsu smiled again at him, trying to mask his annoyance with the old woman's abruptness, "Sorry for making you wait, Haru, I bet you're super bored?"

"Dada…" The child yawned cutely on cue, making Natsu chuckle.

"Yeah, Dada's gonna take you home." He reiterated, turning to make tracks for home.

Natsu all but crashed through the front door, nearly breaking it off its hinges. "Luce? Lucy? Are ya home?" He yelled out into the house. Out of breath and panting, having just ran all the way back.

"Lucy?" He called out again, but with no answer still, he wondered where she could be, "Hmm… Let's go find Mama; she's around here somewhere."

"Mama…" The infant muttered, before going back to sucking on the ends of Natsu's scarf.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, he heard what he suspected might be the reason for Lucy's silence. A noise that'd become all too common over the last few days. Pushing the bathroom door open, he stood in the doorway, smiling sadly at the girl hunched over the toilet bowl once again. He felt nothing but empathy for her, the feeling of being overwhelmingly sick wasn't exactly foreign to him either, so he understood her pain.

The young man crouched down behind the blonde, cringing as she wretched her guts up. "It's alright, Luce. I'm here with you now." He spoke quietly, as not to alarm her of his presence. Placing Haru down next to him, he reached a hand out to her shoulder, the warm touch spreading over her clammy skin.

With one last cough and spit into the bowl, Lucy leaned back, breathing heavily while her watery eyes streamed down her face. She sniffled and blew her nose with a tissue, wiping her mouth at the same time. She took in a large breath and shifted to the man behind her, clutching hold of his jacket while she cried into his chest.

Enveloping her with his arms and cradling her head to him, he spoke tenderly to her, "Has it eased off now?"

"I-I don't know." Her voice was hoarse; her throat sore, "Please don't leave me again."

That struck a chord with Natsu. Never had he heard Lucy ask for him, not like that. She was always way too proud and independent, but this had really taken it's toll on her, not just physically but mentally also, making her feel vulnerable and it saddened him to see her so.

"I won't, Lucy, I promise." He said lowly into her ear, placing an affectionate peck just behind her lobe.

Nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck, she sniffled again, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, "I don't want this, Natsu. I don't care what's causing it; I just want it gone."

Really her words shouldn't have affected him like they did, yet he still felt a sharp tug on his heart. She didn't know the reason behind her vomiting; how could she? He hadn't told her. And now with her so upset, he really didn't know how he was going to do that. Where did he even start?

He'd been so ready to just blurt it out, never considering how Lucy might react to it. In fact, if memory served him, she'd most likely freak until she combusted, or worse, began to cry. This subject had to be handled sensitively and with care, but the longer he left it, the longer he had to dwell on her reaction.

"I know, Luce. Are you sure you still want to wait for Wendy? Gramps told me she won't be back for a week at least." He explained, hoping she might change her mind about seeing the old dragon woman.

"I don't care who I see, as long as they can get rid of it." She said, finally pulling back and wiping her eyes with her sleeve, "I'm just so tired! It's been so long since I've had any real sleep and the puking just won't let up. My tummy hurts, my back aches and my ribs feel like they're being squashed, I have a constant headache and food-" She placed her hand over her mouth again, feeling that overwhelming nausea return. The mention of food, any food, was enough to set her off.

"Just try and take a deep breath, Luce, think of something else."

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath through her nose and let it slowly out through her mouth, turning her attentions to Haru, "Sorry, little man, Mama didn't mean to ignore you, although you seem pretty content sucking on that scarf."

"He's been doing that all afternoon." Natsu answered for the baby, before switching back to Lucy, "Has the feeling gone now?"

"Not yet, it never really does. It just sits there until something triggers it." She explained, trying to breathe through the queasiness.

"That sucks… Oh, that reminds me, I have something for ya!" Remembering the little gift the old woman had given him, he started rummaging through his pockets, pulling out the item he was looking for and handed it to her, "Take it, Luce, it'll help with your, uh…" Wracking his brain for whatever Porlyusica had called it, "…Sickness." Was what he settled for.

Taking it into her hands she stared at it, frowning at the gross substance which could barely be called a liquid. "Um… Are you sure this is fit for human consumption?" She asked, hesitant to put it anywhere near her mouth. "And where'd it even come from?"

"Well, you know you said you didn't want to go to Porlyusica?" He blushed a little, putting his hand behind his head and grinned sheepishly, "I kinda did for ya and she gave me that. She said to take a few drops of it."

"Hmm… If you say so." She popped the cork lid open and let a few small globs dribble out into her mouth, pulling a disgusted face as it slid down her throat and stuck out her tongue. Little Haru found it hysterical and began laughing at his mother, his whole body jiggling up and down, "Well, I'm glad you're finding this funny, because that is repulsive!"

Natsu smiled, "You did look kinda funny, Luce. But at least it'll lessen your morning sickness now." That was it!

Eyes widening, Lucy snapped her head to Natsu, her amusement gone, "Morning sickness?!"

"Yeah, that's what she called it—which is dumb! It's more like all day and night sickness." He chuckled to himself, quickly falling silent when Lucy's expression didn't change at his little joke. He didn't understand; had he said something wrong? "What's up, Luce? I thought it might help."

"You… you think I'm pregnant?" She asked, eyes wide and mouth agape, her stare never leaving him.

Shit!

So morning sickness was a pregnancy thing? He wished he'd known that sooner!

Cursing himself again, he hadn't meant for her to find out like that and what's worse—she looked utterly horrified. Dammit! What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't lie to her; he wouldn't do that. With no other alternative, he did the only thing he could and sighed, nodding his answer and cringing at the sharp inhale he heard pass her lips.

Hoping she wasn't about to blow a fuse, he approached the stunned girl carefully, taking the vile out of her slack grasp and placed it back in his pocket before entwining their fingers together. Quirking one side of his lip into a half smile, he kept quiet and allowed her to process the information she obviously was not expecting.

His eyes dropped from her shocked face to her partially exposed stomach, catching her other hand instinctively come down to cradle it protectively, like an expectant mother would and it made the adrenaline course through his body.

"Pregnant… How did I not think of that?" She muttered under her breath, truly shocked that she hadn't once considered it a possibility. All the signs were there, everything pointed to it—shouted at it in fact, yet it was Natsu who'd realised it first. The boy that once thought humans laid eggs had figured it out before her? Something seemed fishy! "How come you knew? Who've you been speaking to?" Mortified to think that the whole guild knew before she even did.

"Gray, actually." He replied, shrugging, "And Porlyusica helped, obviously."

"Gray?! What does he know about having a baby? Doesn't he usually shy away from that kind of stuff?" She was astounded to find that it was the ice mage of all people. One of the girls from the guild was understandable or even someone like Gajeel who'd experienced it, but Gray?

"You think Juvia gives him a choice? She was crazy before, but now it seems she's on a whole other level." He sniggered a little, feeling kinda sorry for Gray, but kinda not. He'd made his bed and now he'd have to lay in it.

"Oh, so Juvia's pregnant too? How sweet, she's been desperate since… well, since forever!"

Natsu hummed in agreement, his attention focused more on Lucy's calm and collected demeanour, which honestly, he hadn't expected. She seemed happy by the prospect of growing their family, and that filled him with joy.

"Baby fever all 'round, it seems." Chuckling and tapping little Haru's head, the spirit wielder met the slayers eyes, smiling brightly at him with her hand still firmly placed on her lower belly, "I guess being so sick will be worth it, if it's for a baby."

"Our baby, Luce." Wiping the few stray tears away with his thumb, Natsu grinned at her, glad to see that gorgeous smile of hers split her cheeks, "Now we just gotta test it, right? Only, I don't know how you'd do that?"

"Hmm… I do, but… Oh wait! Cana!" She yelled, scrambling to her feet and nearly tripping on the bath mat. Luckily, Natsu was there for her to grab a hold of.

"What's this got to do with Cana?" He asked, confused—nothing good could ever come of her being involved.

"Her 'gifts'." The boy tilted his head; that made even less sense! "You know… ages ago, she pranked us with the condoms and a pregnancy test?" Lucy whispered to him, not wanting to say it out loud in front of Haru.

"Oh yeah! I wondered where they all went!" His eyes lit up when the memory returned to him.

"Please don't remind me…" Happy mumbled under his breath, a look of trauma on his face.

"Oh, hey Happy! I didn't hear ya come in!" Natsu greeted, waving at the exceed hovering in the doorway.

"Why're you guys looking for those things? You mean you're actually gonna use 'em?!" Nearly passing out at the thought, but shut his mouth quickly when he noticed Lucy glaring at him.

Returning to the task at hand, the blonde continued to search through the bathroom cupboards, "I put them away in here somewhere… Aha! Found it!" She cheered, holding and waving it in her hand to show Natsu.

"Awesome!" He cheered, "Now what?"

"Yeah, uh, you're gonna have to wait outside, and I'll let you know when I'm done." Pulling out the stick from its packaging, she crossed her arms and glared at the boy still standing there.

"Wait, what's happening?" The exceed asked, completely lost on their conversation.

"Why do I gotta wait outside? Can't I stay in here while you do it?" Natsu didn't want to be locked out again, it wasn't fair! He wanted to be in on the action!

She deadpanned, "Unless you want to watch me pee on a stick?" He was clueless.

"No, thank you!" Happy was gone in a flash, back down the stairs, no longer caring what they were talking about.

"So what, Luce?" The fire mage shrugged, "I've seen ya do worse."

"Just get out, Natsu, I'll call you back in when I'm done!" Lucy huffed, shooing the idiot out of the bathroom, ignoring his protests and shutting the door behind her.

Natsu exaggerated his huff, chuckling when Haru copied him, "Looks like we gotta wait out here, little guy. Are ya hungry?" The fire mage asked, taking them both down to the kitchen to retrieve some food.

Once returning to the bathroom door, food thoroughly shoved in their pie holes, they waited. When the door finally opened, revealing the girl with the stick in her hand, Natsu could barely contain himself; he wanted to know the results.

"So, what's it say? Are ya, Luce?" He asked, feeling like a kid at Christmas. Upon setting his own eyes on the girl, his face dropped instantly as he watched fresh tears build in her eyes. "Lucy?"

She wiped her snuffling nose and handed the stick to her partner, allowing him to look at the results. "Two lines means positive; one line means negative." Was all she said, using her sleeve to rub at her irritated eyes.

Peering down at the peculiar shaped object in his hand, he knitted his brows together. On the little screen, there was but a singular line—just one. He looked back up to Lucy, confusion still etched into his expression, "Negative?"

"It means, I'm not pregnant." Disappointment flowed out of her very pores; saying it out loud only reaffirmed it; a bitter truth escaping her lips. "Back to the drawing board, I guess. I'm sorry, Natsu, I know that wasn't what you wanted to hear."

Natsu remained silent, processing it all. It was definitely not the result he had been expecting, but it didn't seem to be bothering him as much as it should've. That niggle along with everything else that lead him to that conclusion, surely hadn't been wrong? He should've felt sad, a little disappointed, maybe? Or even a tad guilty for giving Lucy false hope—but he felt none of those things.

It was true that he didn't have well of medical knowledge like Porlyusica or some other doctor. He didn't read a load of books to get his information like Lucy or even Levy, and he certainly had no experience to pull from, and yet his gut still believed there was hope.

He placed the test down and pulled Lucy to him, enveloping her in his warmth to soothe her aching heart. With her nestled into his chest, he nuzzled his head into her hair, breathing in her scent, allowing it to relax him, when an idea struck.

Unexpectedly he pulled away from the sad blonde, passed her the baby and dropped to his knees, much to her embarrassment. He hugged her close, placing his nose on her lower belly and inhaled deeply, ignoring her flustered rants about 'reading the mood'. After several awkward minutes of her whining and his determination to be proven right, he smiled and let go.

"Natsu, you can't just sniff people like that! What were you doing?! I'm not in the mood for jokes." She sighed, watching him hop to his feet.

"Lucy, I think the test is lying."

Perking her head up to meet his eyes, with brows knitted together, she spoke, "Huh? Tests don't lie, Natsu! Don't be so ridiculous! I know it's hard to hear, but we're not having a baby."

"We'll see about that!" He grinned and hoisted her up, carrying her bridal style down the stairs with Haru perched neatly in her lap, ignoring her yells to be put down.

"Right Haru, let's go get some answers! You coming, Happy?" Natsu's usual electric enthusiasm shone brightly through his grin.

"Yeah! Where are we going?" Happy asked, hovering above the slayer's head.

He winked at the Exceed, then proceeded to kick the front door open and walked out into the front garden. "You ready, Luce?" His grin turning mischievous.

"Natsu, put me down! I don't even have any shoes on! Where the heck are we going?!" She screeched into his ear, making him wince, but smile all the same.

"You don't need shoes when I'm carrying you! Hold on tight guys, we're off to see the old dragon woman in the woods. She'll be able to tell us." He said, sprinting off down the path towards their destination, with Happy flying behind.

Eventually, Lucy gave up her struggle. She wasn't going to win; she never did once he'd set his mind on something. That was usually how all of their adventures started off, him dragging her off somewhere new and exciting. Although, she couldn't say going to see the old woman was new or particularly exciting, but if Natsu thought it was the right thing to do, even if the result remained the same, then she had no choice but to tag along.

Finally nearing the tree, Natsu could see from a distance that the door was open, meaning said woman was out and about, probably collecting ingredients for her next potion.

"So you've returned." They heard the gruff voice from behind, swivelling their heads to meet Porlyusica as she walked over to them. "And you've brought the whole cavalry… Well, don't just stand there gawking, in you go!" Natsu quickly made it into the tree, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the cranky woman with a broom. "And put Lucy down, a pregnant woman is more than capable of walking, boy!"

Lucy all but jumped to her feet, mortified and embarrassed by the whole situation and turned to the healer, "That's the thing though, I'm not pregnant, but Natsu insisted on dragging us out here. We're sorry for wasting your time." The flustered blonde seemed a little too eager to leave and tried to make a break for the door; however; the fire breather's quick reflexes caught her wrist before she could reach the door handle.

"Luce, I told you already: the test was lying!" He repeated, eyes pleading with her just to wait and see what the healer might say.

She sighed; feeling a little frustrated by it all, "Tests don't lie, Natsu. I'm not pregnant and that's all there is to it. I'll just have to muddle through whatever this sickness is until it goes away."

"It came out negative, I assume?" Porlyusica intervened, focusing on the blonde huddling close to the door. "Natsu is right, tests can give false negative readings, especially if it's old or hasn't been used properly." The pink haired woman walked closer to the girl, looking her up and down. "I thought that you might be when I saw you last and I'm rarely wrong."

Lucy hadn't expected the woman to actually agree with Natsu. She hadn't thought that there could be something wrong with the test, but then again, it was from Cana and god knows where she'd got it from. She perked her head up a little and was almost reluctant to look at the dragon slayers expression, knowing the smugness of being right would be written all over his face.

"Ha! See, I knew it! There's still a chance, Lucy!" Natsu shone his vibrant, toothy grin at the blonde girl. She could see the hope in his eyes; he really wanted this; to be a father again and her heart all but melted.

"I have other, more thorough ways of testing, if you'd let me?" Porlyusica asked the celestial mage, bringing her back to the present.

Apprehensively, Lucy nodded her head and went to sit on the bed by the window to await further instructions. She was so nervous, hoping for some positive answers, that would prove the test was false. She wasn't sure her heart could take the disappointment a second time, especially if it included Natsu's this time.

"There are a few different ways I can confirm a pregnancy, blood tests and so forth, but the most efficient way is a scan of the area." She said, gathering the instruments she needed whilst awaiting Lucy's approval. "I use a lacrima and it shows an image of your womb."

"O-Okay." Lucy replied, uncertain of what she'd just agreed to.

She laid back on the bed and pulled her top up, revealing her stomach. Taking a deep breath, the celestial mage twisted her head to Natsu, who had knelt down beside her. Her nerves were rattling within her body and was looking for a little reassurance, something to take the edge off of her apprehension.

He smiled at her tenderly and reached out for her hand to hold tight, not entirely convinced it was to ease just her anxiety as opposed to his own. They were about to find out whether or not their own little creation had taken residence in Lucy's womb, and he couldn't describe what an incredibly surreal feeling that was.

Porlyusica first needed to locate where the lacrima should be placed. Using one hand, she pressed firmly just above Lucy's pelvis, then several times around the area. Still tender and overly sensitive, Lucy tried her hardest not to show the discomfort it was causing. It rippled up into her throat, making her feel sick again, only this time she had no choice but to hold it back.

The wincing and quiet gasps didn't go unnoticed by the dragon slayer. He'd been watching the healer like a hawk, making sure nothing hurt Lucy too much. He leant over, understanding how unpleasant it must be and kissed her temple, whilst running his fingers smoothly through her blonde tresses.

The lacrima was a simple looking flat, green crystal that the older woman laid onto the stellar mages bare skin and waited for the image to appear. With a few flashes of light, a picture was formed like a projection hovering just above the lacrima.

"What the heck is that?! It looks like you swallowed a ball!" Happy couldn't take his eyes off of the image.

"That's so cool! I'm totally looking at your insides, Luce!" The fire breather enthused, unable to take his eyes off of the image.

Lucy rolled her eyes at the pair; typical Natsu and Happy, "You're both such idiots…"

"When you're done bickering, I'll explain what you're looking at." Porlyusica cut in. She pointed to the big black oval shape on the projection, that Happy kindly pointed out, and looked at the pair, making sure they were paying attention. "This is the outline of your uterus, Lucy. And from what I can see, it looks perfectly normal and healthy."

"Oh okay, that's good then." She pointed to a smaller, light coloured ball at the bottom of the black oval and knitted her brows together. "So, what's that?"

Moving the lacrima crystal slightly, the healer repositioned it to get a closer look at the small ball and both mages eyes near bulged out of their sockets. Their mouths dropped open and breath hitched simultaneously as the image took on a more human shape, its arms and legs moving rapidly.

"Oh my… Is that…?" Lucy had never seen anything like it, her mouth had gone completely dry and she felt the butterflies in her tummy cause her to quiver, she was in awe.

"Look at what we did, Lucy…" Natsu murmured after a few shocked, silent moments, catching the girl's attention. His eyes were glued to the image, watching it kick out with it's tiny little developing legs and feet. "It's an active little thing…"

"It's a baby, Natsu…" The celestial mages eyes glazed over, unable to control the flood of emotions that entered her system.

For the first time, the fire breather peeled his sights away from the projection and looked to his partner. His own tears peaked at the corners, feeling so overwhelmingly happy to be able to share this with her.

"Mm… it sure is, Luce." His voice sounded airy, sleepy almost, like his body had simply relaxed. His brilliant smile beamed at the blonde, making her heart skip a beat as she turned to face him fully, the sound of their little one's heart beat filling their ears.

"Look Haru, you're gonna have a little brother or sister." Lucy said as Natsu held him up to see, pointing at the even tinier one wriggling around on the projection. "It's a little one, just like you!"

Porlyusica turned the crystal once more, allowing them to see the baby from a different angle, "As you can see, Lucy, you are pregnant and by the looks of it, I'd say you have been for about ten weeks now."

"Ten weeks?! Surely that's not right; I would have noticed long before now!" Lucy was stunned to learn she was that far along already. The symptoms had only just started and she'd menstruated within that time—hadn't she?

"Not necessarily, pregnancy doesn't follow a certain set of rules. When Juvia came to see me regarding the same thing, she'd been suffering with symptoms from around the six week mark. Levy, on the other hand, had no symptoms and she was carrying twins. Some women experience symptoms just at the beginning while others, all the way through. Some later and some sooner, and some none at all."

"Oh… I didn't know. So, what happens now?" Lucy asked, feeling a little bit of disappointment when the healer deactivated the lacrima and removed it from her belly—she could've easily watched it all day.

"Yeah, when will it be born? Is it a long wait?" Natsu butted in, moving to sit next to the girl on the bed.

"And I thought Gray was clueless… A pregnancy takes nine months or approximately forty weeks, meaning Lucy has about thirty weeks left to go."

"That long? But that's ages away!" Natsu whined, turning into a child himself.

"Yeah, why can't it be born now?" Happy joined in, wanting to meet the little one already.

"Quiet, boys, before I kick you out!" She threatened, returning her attentions to the blonde, "Look after yourself, Lucy. A stressed mother is a stressed baby, but so far everything is looking as it should." The woman returned her equipment to their places and snapped her head to the little family still sitting there, "What're you both still doing here? Get out!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Natsu and Lucy jumped to their feet at lightning speed and ran out of the door, making sure they were out of sight of the old woman before slowing to a halt.

"Ugh! Now my feet are all dirty!" Lucy groaned, lifting her bare feet up one by one to inspect them, grimacing at all of the mud now coating them. "This is your fault- Mmph!"

A pair of warm, smooth lips silenced her, pressing urgently to her mouth, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. With him taking the lead, Lucy relaxed into it and enjoyed the feel of his mouth on hers, their tongues interloping, causing butterflies to re-enter her stomach.

Pulling apart, but barely, he stared at her angelic features and couldn't help but smile at the beautiful girl before him. Thanks to her, he was going to be a father again. A father not to just one, but two precious babies and he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

"I love you, Lucy." He grinned, the biggest, widest grin she'd ever seen, so enormous it was almost too much for his face. But it was still heart meltingly cute and to hear him say those words again was enough to turn her into a puddle. It wasn't something he said very often, but she was fine with that. It made times like this all the more special.

"I love you too, Natsu." She could see just how happy he was, his very soul glowing like the fire he wielded. "So, are you going to tell me how you knew?"

He quirked his brow, "Knew what?"

"That the test was wrong." She said, her eyes flickering between his.

"Oh… I, uh, sorta had a feeling, I guess. And I was sure I could smell something." He shrugged, about to lean in for another kiss.

"You could… smell something?" Horrified she pulled her face back; did she smell?!

"Yeah, another scent. I've been able to smell it since I came home the other day, but didn't know what it was until now." The boy explained, bringing her head back to him.

"You can smell the baby?" Lucy's eyes widened in fascination.

"Sure. It's real faint, but if I try hard enough, it's there."

"Wow! That's incredible!" She looked down at herself again and cradled her belly, right where the lacrima had been and pictured their perfect little baby safe and sound in there. "I'm so happy, Natsu."

"Me too, Lucy." Natsu chuckled and finally managed to pull her back in for a loving and tender kiss, relaying all of his own happiness to her in one fluid motion. His hand came up to rest on top of hers, caressing the soft skin of her belly, imagining just how beautiful she was going to look in the months to come, carrying his child.

But their passion was swiftly halted when a certain little fella stopped them in their tracks, placing a hand to where their lips joined and made a cute babble sound, as if he were trying to work out what they were doing. Chuckling, they both turned to Haru, who was still looking at them curiously.

"You two are just nasty!" Happy said, placing himself down on the floor. "Not only do you eat each other, but you're now doing it in front of Haru!"

"We don't eat each other, I have no idea what you're talking about!" Lucy defended, shaking her head.

"Yeah you do and other… more explicit things!" Happy shivered at the thought, "Otherwise you wouldn't be in this situation."

"What situation is that then?" Lucy asked, defiance lacing her voice.

"He means the baby, Luce, even I understood that one!" Natsu piped in.

"Really?!" She exclaimed sarcastically, "Ugh! You guys are infuriating! With any luck, this baby will be a girl, then I won't feel so outnumbered!" She huffed, crossing her arms.

"And she'll still end up like Natsu, and you know it!"

Lucy's expression deflated, her arms sinking to her sides ans sighed "You're right…"

"Anyway, with another mouth to feed, you might wanna reconsider that job, Natsu!" The exceed mentioned, not noticing the dragon slayer shoot daggers at him.

"Oh… What job is that then?" The blonde asked, curiously. She didn't remember Natsu mentioning anything about a job.

"It's nothing really, Luce." Natsu shrugged, playing it down.

"You should have seen the reward! I've never seen that many zero's in a number!" Happy chirped, only now noticing the look his friend was giving him, telling him silently to shut up.

"Natsu, what's up? How come you never said anything?" Lucy asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"It's not that big of a deal. Gramps gave me a request yesterday, but I turned it down, that's all." He explained, seeming a little dismissive but otherwise normal. "Why don't we get ya home? It'll be dinner time soon." Seeing the reluctance in Lucy's face to believe him, he sighed and smiled at her, not ready to have that conversation just yet.

Suddenly her feet were whipped out from under her and she and Haru found themselves in the air, with two strong arms holding them up, "Natsu!"

"What? Can't have Mama all pooped out now can we, Haru?" Natsu laughed along with the infant, grinning widely, "'Cause she's still gotta cook us dinner!" He smirked at the young woman in his arms, who's eyes snapped at to him, glaring at his handsome face.

"Hey! How come I gotta slave away in the kitchen?! I'm pregnant now, you should be making me dinner!" She retorted, huffing and turning her head to the side.

"I don't mind cooking, it's whether you mind having a kitchen or not?"

"On second thought, stay out of the kitchen, you're too much of a fire hazard. But you owe me a foot rub, after all, this is your doing!" She smirked back at him.

"Oh… I never remember you complaining, maybe I'll have to get you to jolt my memory later." He chuckled lowly back, rising to the challenge.

"That's it! You two are disgusting! I'm taking Haru and you can both find somewhere else to do your dirty stuff tonight." Happy whizzed down to snatch the giggling baby from Lucy and speedily zoomed off into the distance, leaving the other two behind.

"Hey! That's no fair! You got a head start!" Not willing to be beaten by a flying cat and a baby, Natsu hurtled himself and Lucy in the same direction, her screams of terror echoing throughout the forest.

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yandere-sins · 4 years

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can I request supernatural prompt 40 with shuichi saihara please?

Thank you for requesting ♥ Hope you enjoy!

“It’s just a simple love potion! Don’t worry, in just a few hours things will be perfect.”

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

To err is human, you thought to yourself as you twisted and turned your wrists in the clasps of the handcuffs. Most of the time, a mistake would be easy to fix. An apology, some help getting the thing you messed up back on track, taking responsibility for the error - there were many simple things to solve a problem you caused.

This wasn’t one of those times.

No matter how much you wanted to make this right again, it would be impossible to do so. Apologizing wouldn’t get you anywhere, neither did trying to soothe the situation you were facing. Even if it hurt, there was no offering your help, either. You’d have done anything you could to make sure your boyfriend could get the help he needed, but there was no way you could itstake responsibility for your part in this whole problem.

By now, it had to be three hours already since you woke up, chained to the bed frame on both your wrists and ankles. Your head had long begun to grow too heavy to lift and look around for a long time, but the countless candle lights around you didn’t do anything to calm your restless mind.

From the en suite bathroom, you heard the rustling and shuffling Shuichi had done ever since he came home. Clinking and the sound of water rushing down the drain accompanying his doings. You had imagined him to be shocked, panicked even, when he found you like this, strapped to the bed in only your underwear. But when you asked him about what was going on and what happened, he only grinned, promising you a surprise later while caressing your cheek fondly.

It became less surprising as you noticed that the room you were in was his dorm room, even though he had done some redecoration and improve in atmospheric objects he possessed. At least, you didn’t remember him owning a few dozen candles he lit and placed everywhere as if this was a romantic movie night. Suddenly his behavior made more sense, yet, you were none the wiser.

“Shuichi?” you called for him wryly. Even if it was hard to see, his head popped out of the doorframe to the bathroom, giving you an elongated, “Hm~?” in response. “Mind telling me now what this is all about, Love?” you chuckled nervously, and he grinned a bit wider in anticipation. “You’ll see.”

And with that, he was gone again, leaving you behind as clueless as before. No, this wasn’t a mistake that could be fixed. He certainly was scheming something, and by his secrecy, you could tell, you might not like it. When Shuichi finally did reemerge from his preparation, you could barely trust what you were seeing, making you blink a few time to be sure you saw it correctly.

He lookedbody's fine. Very fine. In a suit, hair gelled back and in his hands two glasses of a purple, iridescent mixture. For a moment, you were so stunned, you almost forgot you were chained to the bed, trying to sit up to get a better look, but Shuichi was nice enough to come closer instead, as you couldn’t budge even an inch from your place.

“What’s the meaning of this get-up?” you asked as he sat down on the space unoccupied by your body, rattling the handcuffs and chains to emphasize you meant all of what was happening. “I just...” his voice trailed off before Shuichi gave a soft shrug. “I just wanted it to be romantic, I guess.”

The sweet grin he gave you was something you had always loved about him. Something he rarely showed to other people but often to you when you two were alone, and Shuichi could put down his shyness a little. All this time up to now, the last two months, you had enjoyed his company like no one else’s. But not anymore. “That’s... nice. But why do I have to be chained like this?” You tried with reasonable questions, believing that if he could still look like the boy you fell in love with, then the situation might be a big misunderstanding after all.

“Because there is something for us to try... Something Monokuma gave to me when I asked him some questions.”

The drinks in his hand began to swirl as he gave them his attention, watching as the shine made waves in the glasses. “Questions about...?” This wasn’t enough information for you. Even if he was the Super High School Level Detective, you usually didn’t have secrets from each other. “Us, and how to proceed in our relationship.”

Turning his attention fully back to you, he held the glasses in front of him, his eyes giving you a slow, savoring look-over, which caused goosebumps to appear on your arms. “Don’t be so scared,” he laughed, noticing your body's reaction. “It’s just a simple love potion! Don’t worry, in just a few hours things will be perfect.”

“Love potions?” you mumbled, furrowing your brows. “But Shuichi, why? I thought everything was going so well between us... And what even is this ‘love potion’?”

“Ah...” he was quick to react, biting his lip, and suddenly, you thought that the expression he showed you was none you were used to. There laid frustration in his eyes, just like at the trials you two had already mastered. But that wasn’t all; it was paired with anger, but not like the one he felt whenever he couldn’t be of help or prevent something bad. Could it be, you wondered, jealousy?

“Everything is fine, really, but you...” His words sounded monotone as he thought them up, eyes never meeting yours directly. “You’ve begun to look elsewhere, haven’t you? Am I not enough for you?”

When he finally did look at you, you could see the hurt in his eyes, and the slight shiver in his bitten lip. “Shuichi...” you whispered his name. You wanted to stretch our your hands to him, cup his face tenderly and tell him this wasn’t the case. But would he have believed it?

“Spare me the details, I don’t want to know.”

Everything from his voice to his expression grew hostile suddenly, and he shook his head, taking a deep breath to disperse his anger. “But there are no details! I haven’t looked for anyone outside of you, I thought that was clear...” you defended yourself, not wanting the accusation of being unfaithful to your boyfriend sit on your shoulders.

“Sure...” he simply disregarded your words. With another sigh, he brought the glass in his left hand to his lips, taking a small sip first before downing it whole. Done with it, he set it aside, wiping his lips with his sleeve, breathing out with a sound of relief. “It’s amazing,” he noted briefly, a sincere, adoring smile returning to his lips as he looked back at you. “Your turn, [Name].”

You pressed your lips close as he approached, swaying from side to side as if it would help him from getting away from you. His hand merely gripped under your head, lifting it carefully, and bringing the glass to your mouth. When you tried to shake your head, Shuichi’s fingers grew painful, scraping against the back of your head and neck, counteracting your movements. You could hear him sigh again as the rim of the glass got pressed further and further into the slit between your lips, urging you to open up and let it in.

Against your expectations, when he did manage to avoid your pressed lips, the fluid that filled your mouth rapidly wasn’t sweet at all. It had no noticeable taste, despite it’s beautiful looks, instead it was plain but not quite watery. You were caught in your attrap as opening up to spit it out would only mean more could flood inside, while also your reflexes to swallow set in which you had to avoid.

Undeniably, you ended up gulping down a couple of drops of the mixture before you were able to tear yourself away, spitting the rest all over your chest and arm as you coughed it up again. Immediately, you felt a dizzyness in your head as well as a burning all throughout your body. No matter how little you believed in the existence of a love potion, you couldn’t be sure what Monokuma had given Shuichi if it caused this reaction from you.

Looking back at him, it was as if you were seeing things through rose-colored glasses, an annoying effect, but your brain found it pleasant, serotonin washing through your body as you couldn’t believe the giggles you let out. “[Name],” he sighed, appearing to be just as happy as you felt at that very moment.

Shuichi leaned down to kiss you, and you were eager to return the affection, tongues gliding over each other. His hands drew up your arms, shaking lightly with excitement until he reached your wrists, working on the cuffs without even looking. It was unbelievable, but your arms willingly curled around his neck the moment they were free, and he lifted you into his arms, happy to hold you.

“I told you, everything will be perfect,” he chuckled, tapping your nose affectionately. Every touch of him made you burn a little bit more, all to eager to experience more and more of them.

But inwardly, you could have screamed at him. Screamed that this wasn’t normal, that this wasn’t how you two were supposed to love each other. Drugging you, or whatever he did, wasn’t something you’d expected from him, and you were endlessly frustrated that you hadn’t noticed his doings earlier before all of this happened.

As the tears of frustration collected in your eyes, which were looking at him dreamily, you couldn’t help but find the situation despairingly, as your body just wouldn’t listen, while Shuichi did how he pleased. This wasn’t a mistake to fix, and no apology would make drugging you with something, right again. It was your responsibility to see the signs of him needing help and your relationship having problems, how blind could you have been not to notice them?

There was no use to ponder about them now anymore though, as you found yourself stuck in this chaotic love. To err might be human, but if the error turned out to be so deeply rooted in malicious intents - some of them you weren’t even aware of yet - how could it be possible for you to find the divine in yourself and forgive?

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officialwagnerrant · 3 years

Text

Wagnerrant Review #6 - Tristan und Isolde

Work: Tristan und Isolde Bayerische Staatsoper Date of performance: 31.07.202

Team Director: Krzysztof Warlikowski Conductor: Kirill Petrenko With: Jonas Kaufmann, Anja Harteros, Okka von der Damerau, Wolfgang Koch, Mika Kares, Manuel Günther, Dean Power, Christian Rieger

Review: @beckmessering

Here’s an entirely hypothetical question: when not very familiar with an opera, is a Regietheater production with hotly anticipated role debuts the best opportunity to form an emotional understanding? Answers may vary, but take it from a someone whose opera education had a shamefully large Tristan-shaped hole: Krzysztof Warlikowski’s Tristan und Isolde at Bayerische Staatsoper is a production to to gnaw on – conceptually elusive and a puzzle with many pieces, but finally a great reward in scenery and in music.

Jonas Kaufmann lends Tristan his well-known baritonal timbre, although it’s not quite as prominent as usual. His voice is dense and rich, though not artificially darkened, and brings delicate piani as well as strength to the role. The third act with Tristan’s near-incessant monologues of increasing volume and intensity provide an audible challenge that doesn’t leave Kaufmann’s voice untouched: he sounds somewhat taxed by the time he’s finally allowed to collapse once and for all. Granted, it’s a punishing and brutal feat; the sheer amount of energy required to sing oneself to death likely isn’t equivalent to the amount a badly wounded man would still have. Kaufmann thus doesn’t quite look to be on death’s door despite a shirt soaked in progressively darker shades of red, but he nonetheless he provides a well-grounded interpretation of one titular character. He steers away from classic hero territory into something more nuanced and disconcerting if one only looks closely enough – Isolde, for that matter, hits the nail on the head when she replies “Frag deine Furcht!” to his “Und welchen Feind?”. He’s scared – or perhaps haunted by thoughts that won’t leave him alone, unable to keep his hands and his gaze still when not singing. He doesn’t outright long for death, but from the very start, he sure doesn’t seem at ease with life, either. Something isn’t quite right with Tristan – and just the right person is needed to unleash it fully.

That just-right-person is Anja Harteros as Isolde, who deserves perhaps the audience’s grandest ovation. Vocally, she is still in excellent shape until the last measures of her delicately sung Liebestod, having preserved her gleaming heights and pristine sound over all three acts. Her middle register, uniquely crystalline and incredibly poignant, could conceivably serve to distinguish her voice from thousands. Yet her singing by far isn’t too pretty to show feelings – Harteros’ voice suits a seething young woman with a rich inner life that progressively unfolds throughout the opera. “Lass’ uns Sühne trinken!“ is an actual threat, one that Tristan wholeheartedly embraces. After losing herself in love in the second act, she reemerges from it lonely and bitingly aware of it. Her grief, like her rage, is controlled yet bone-deep, and it inevitably leads her to die. Perhaps something wasn’t quite right with Isolde, too.

Wolfgang Koch sings Kurwenal with a vivacious, robust baritone that energetically prizes life – a great contrast to Tristan’s inclinations. However, Koch stays far from acting clownish, particularly in the third act, where he wears the worry about his friend on his sleeve, but ultimately remains powerless against Tristan’s impending death. While the latter ecstatically sings himself into delirium, Koch remains comparatively static, demonstrating his character’s inability to help and by extension, vastly different attitude towards life.

Okka von der Damerau’s Brangäne is a well-meaning figure trying her best to put Isolde at ease in this admittedly highly tense situation. While initially reminiscent of a caring aunt, the two women’s bond becomes far more sisterly in nature once the first act’s dialogue – or perhaps conspiracy – around Isolde’s secret potion stash unfolds. She braves the act’s finale with top notes of impressive volume and provides a surprisingly bright, silvery metallic sound for a mezzo. Considering the standout dynamic between the two women, it’s perhaps fitting that her voice blends so smoothly with Isolde’s and even elicits comparisons to a soprano’s sound.

Mika Kares as King Marke packs much disappointment into his clear, well-articulated bass, though it’s about far more than the good old besmirching of honour – this betrayal is personal to him and runs deep. Regrettably, he’s given little to do once he has discovered the wrongdoers in each other’s arms except stalk back and forth between Tristan and Isolde, so he resorts to various pronounced eye movements that verge on accidentally amusing. Brangäne’s single look of horror upon assessing the scene says more than any eye movement could.

Kirill Petrenko’s conducting is fluid, gentle, a statement in and of itself never at the cost of the singers. He crafts the prelude into an intensely lyrical treat, promising much and delivering on that by keeping the orchestra’s sound light yet rich enough to satisfy. He eschews heaviness, but never at the expense of intensity. Particularly the tense moments of the first act are played out very well, and the performance is audibly a successful collaboration between singers, conductor and orchestra: the singers are never drowned out, the orchestra makes its mark, and Petrenko himself brings both together with excellent timing to savour a spectrum of emotions.

Director Krzysztof Warlikowski transplants the setting into a wood-panelled room with high ceilings that traps all characters within its high ceiling, allowing them little escape from what troubles them. This room serves as a continuous backdrop throughout all three acts, although each act adds elements uniquely suited to the current happenings. During the prelude, two silent dancers dressed as almost frighteningly life-like dolls, one male and one female, appear. Their movements are tentative, childlike, evocative of a fragile state as they interact and cautiously touch each other. In the second act, a projection that previously illustrated the view outside a ship’s porthole serves as perhaps an emotional window into the lovers’ psyche. It shows grainy, black-and-white footage of Isolde sitting – waiting – alone on a bed, suggestive of a security camera’s spying eye. In the film, Tristan enters only during “O sink hernieder” and the two sit silently next to each other sans any eye contact, while the real-life Tristan of course has of course entered the stage some time ago. While both of these elements receive their resolution in the final act, the act two film is already subtly reflective of the singers’ actions onstage. While the first act was far more dynamic in terms of interaction, much of this movement disappeared once Tristan and Isolde fell in love, causing the lovers to remain comparatively static during their time together. This takes some time to notice and even more time to get used to, but it allows for much inference on the nature of this love. It’s of the paralysing sort, and it can’t coexist with normal life and regular interaction. There is wallowing in this love or interacting with the rest of the world – but ultimately, a choice will be have to be made. It’s a consuming love, yet clearly not of the physical or even romantic sort, judging from the frequent lack of touch and eye contact – perhaps it’s more of a kinship, a matter of two people having found a part of themselves in each other that they had lost. In any case, the concept avoids the stylisation of Tristan and Isolde’s love as something bright or pure – they may be enraptured, but their state of intoxication doesn’t induce wishful thinking in the audience. The music, more than anything else, connects the lovers with the onlookers. It’s a maddeningly subtle concept of interaction that can easily be taken as stiff or confused with lack of ideas, and the only time it doesn’t pay off is during King Marke’s confrontation in the second act, where Mika Kares isn’t given enough space to physically communicate the emotions of the normal world.

The place of Tristan’s youth in the third act finally unites the previously introduced ideas: Tristan awakes at a table surrounded by dolls seated at a dinner table and dressed like the one representing him in the prelude. As he recalls the early death of his parents, the suggestion that he grew up in a boarding-school atmosphere and carried the burden of being orphaned plants the core idea that he comes from a place of loneliness. Absent a place of emotional safety and affection, his outlook on life is shaped by the inner fragility and unsteadiness he was instead endowed with, and causes him to escape into a love – or a construct – that opposes this life. The question of whether his love is static and at odds with life by nature or rather by Tristan’s nature remains somewhat open, but both are conceivable. During Isolde’s Liebestod, the projections return, showing the lovers lying side by side on the bed again while the room floods with water. As the two inevitably drown, they gaze into each other’s eyes for the first time while the film turns colourful. What initially seems oddly romanticising of death and clichefully pleasant becomes exceptionally poignant when seen as the lovers’ attitude towards death and final fulfilment rather than the director’s views.

It’s an interpretation that becomes more wrenching the longer one thinks about it – multi-layered, elusive, and it refreshingly strays from unduly heroic characterisations that don’t fit the story well. Admittedly, the focus is somewhat aimed at Tristan, and by necessity of the set, much of the psychologization of Isolde in the first act has to occur in the same setting Tristan’s mind will eventually be dissected in. Partially bound by the story and partially by the staging, she can’t be given the same due, which, considering Harteros’ standout Isolde, is a slight shame. Nonetheless, the production doesn’t feel uneven, and when adding music and singers, it becomes a harmonising whole entity. I myself may have closed my eyes in an attempt to fall in love, and I don’t see anything more befitting this opera.

#tristan und isolde #wagner #richard wagner #opera #opera review #wagnerrant review

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senadimell · 4 years

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If you've got time to share, I'd love to hear more about your thoughts around Snape and Lupin.

@deathdaydungeon, here you are!

After a conversation with @frederick-the-great, I’ve been thinking about Lupin, Snape, and what they say about morality in HP. I’m not talking about the troublesome white hats, black hats morality, but am instead looking at from this angle: Lupin is nice and well-liked, but often lacks a backbone, whereas Snape is mean and disliked, but incredibly brave. Which is more important? I find Harry’s last sacrifice to be a useful point by which we measure their impact.

Lupin and Snape useful to compare on several important fronts.

As foils for each others’ teaching methods

The way they deal with social disadvantage

Their connections to Harry’s father and how they pass on James’ legacy

1) They both teach at Hogwarts, and are foils for each other in many ways. Snape is mean and takes away points. He’s seen as selfish. His classes are hard and unpleasant for Harry. He’s mean to Neville, and rather than encouraging him, mocks him and belittles him, which just adds to the overall disaster of Neville’s poor self-esteem mixing badly with potions class.

However, even Umbridge admits that Snape’s teaching methods work, and she’s working for Fudge who doesn’t like Death Eaters and has been defied by Snape in GoF, so we know he’s effective for a lot of people, if not Neville.

Yet, for all that, Snape saves Harry’s life multiple times. On top of that, Snape wants to keep the fact that he saved Harry’s life a secret.

“Very well. Very Well. But never--Never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it, I cannot bear...especially Potter’s son...I want your word!

My word, Severus, that I will never reveal the best of you? Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape’s ferocious, anguished face. “If you insist...”

DH 679, The Prince’s Tale

Conversely, Lupin is nice and rewards points. He’s seen as generous. His classes are fun and interesting for Harry. He’s kind to Neville, and expresses confidence in him that leads him to succeed and do well. That confidence is a huge part of Neville’s character development. I doubt he’d grow into the resistance leader in DH if not for the many times teachers expressed confidence in him, like Dumbledore in PS, Lupin in PoA, Fake!Moody in GoF, and Harry in OotP. Harry certainly approves of his methods:

“You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!” said Harry. “Don’t go!”

PoA 424, Owl Post Again

However, it’s worth noticing that Hermione does worse on his exam than we ever see. She fails the Boggart test, and she and Harry were the only two people not permitted to experience the Boggart in class. Lupin’s teaching methods aren’t foolproof. Despite that, he’s overall seen as a nice guy and good teacher.

Yet Lupin endangers Harry’s life. The secrets he keeps are dangerous: his secret to keep is that he’s a werewolf and actively endangered three students lives with his negligence, as well as the fact that he hid a secret about a believed and convicted mass murderer to save face with Dumbledore.

“That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you’d given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?”

“A thought that still haunts me,” Lupin said heavily. “And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless--carried away with out own cleverness.

“I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore’s trust, of course....he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmasters would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others’ safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month’s adventure. And I haven’t changed...

Lupin’s face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. “All this year I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn’t do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I’d betrayed his tryst while I was at school, admitting that I’d led others along with me...and Dumbledore’s trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using Dark Arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it...so in a way, Snape’s been right about me all along.”

PoA 355, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Plan is emphasized because those trips that ended in “near misses” weren’t some impulsive romp. They were planned and coordinated in advance.

“I just saw Hagrid,” said Harry. “And he said you’d resigned. It’s not true, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is, said Lupin. He stared opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

“Why?” said Harry. The Ministry of Magic don’t think you were helping Sirius, do they?”

Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry.

“No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives.” He sighed. “That was the final straw for Severus. I think* the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he--er--accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast.”

“You’re not leaving because of that!” said Harry.

Lupin smiled wryly.

“This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents ....They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you...That must never happen again.

“You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!” said Harry. “Don’t go!”

PoA 424, Owl Post Again

What strikes me about this conversation is how Lupin shifts the blame around. This doesn’t start with an admission of guilt. He’s not leaving because the parents are right. He’s not leaving because he’s seen how dangerous he can be, or because he owns up to making an incredibly dangerous decision. He’s leaving because Snape forced his hand. If Snape didn’t do that, he would do the same thing he’s always been doing: sweeping his misdoing under the rug and promising himself privately that he’s going to change, but never doing it.

It’s always someone else’s fault for Lupin. That’s a neat tie in to the next point of comparison:

2. Lupin and Snape both experience marginalization in wizarding society, but in very different ways. Lupin faces socio-legal** marginalization and Snape faces socio-economic marginalization.

Lupin’s a werewolf. We see how prejudice affects his life, from his inability to find a job and his worn out clothes to his people-pleasing nature. He’s always acting nice and harmless. He does nothing to play into the condemning stereotypes he’s faced since childhood. Despite that, he still can’t find a job. Nobody will hire him, and people are scared to interact with him. From the way he talks about werewolves, it’s implied that this prejudice is held blindly across Wizarding society. Both Ron and Hermione are horrified to learn Lupin’s a werewolf. *** Later on, he’s legally limited in the kinds of jobs he holds and the kind of magic he’s allowed to perform. Lupin has no control over his transformations, and did not choose his condition.

Lupin’s not really wrong when pities himself. The odds really are stacked against him when he’s treated as if he’s a wolf 24/7, not just a few predictable times a month. His prospects are honestly awful.

The problem is, his condition is dangerous. Thus, the issue of victim blaming is particularly thorny for Lupin. He can’t just accept that he’s a monster for something he has no say over, and yet he can’t escape the fact that sometimes he is monstrous for reasons out of his control. He feels guilty for the people he could have hurt, but also seems to resent that people blame him for something that’s not his fault. The problem is that he carries that lack of accountability into spheres where he should be accountable, like not taking his medication and endangering children because of it.

Snape’s story is very different. He is poor in both the wizard and muggle worlds, and half-blooded, and was sorted into Slytherin as a child. He doesn’t have one condition against him, but checks boxes that make it hard for any one side to accept him. He’s too impure and poor to survive on his own for the Slytherin, but is a Slytherin with Death Eater friends and housemates interested in dark magic, which means he’s never going to fit in with the Order of the Phoenix crowd, especially when some of its members torment him at school. ****4

This essay makes a convincing point that the wizarding world is not a meritocracy, and that people like Snape need powerful patronage to advance if they don’t have the money to support themselves.

I don’t consider the sorting a proper choice. I know Harry does, but I’m of the opinion that at age 11, very few people have been taught how to analyze different perspectives and make an informed decision. Most 11-year-olds are trained to obey their parents and accept their family’s ideology. Harry’s choice rests on very little evidence--most of what he knows is what Hagrid told him, and that he doesn’t want to be sorted into Voldemort’s house along with Draco Malfoy, someone who reminds him of Dudley. I don’t think Snape was very informed either (I’d love to know why), because he doesn’t realize why it Lily wouldn’t be sorted into Slytherin.

“You’d better be in Slytherin,” said Snape, encouraged that she had brightened a little. DH 671, The Prince’s Tale

Either the pureblood rhetoric just wasn’t strong in those days, or his mother didn’t tell him about that.

...“Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”

James lifted an invisible sword.

“’Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!’ Like my dad.”

Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No,” said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy--”

DH 671-2, The Prince’s Tale

It seems that most people just follow familial preferences. As to why Snape wants to be in Ravenclaw over Slytherin, my preferred interpretation is that he had a family legacy, knew that Slytherin rewarded the ambitious and clever, and that Slughorn, the head of Slytherin house, had a knack for making the kind of connections that a poor, clever boy would need to succeed.

Nevertheless, once Snape was in Slytherin, the odds were stacked against him. The house in that era was full of people who would later be Death Eaters. “Dark Magic” wasn’t frowned upon among his housemates, and siding with Voldemort wasn’t yet widely acknowledged as a transgression by wider society.

“No, no, but believe me, [Sirius’ parents] thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having pure-bloods in charge. They weren’t alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things.…” OotP 112

Additionally, people like Bellatrix were in the years above him, and given how Fred and George acted with younger students, I think it’s highly likely younger students had to find a place in the hierarchy or be the target of ‘pranks.’ He was a halfblood, after all, and dirt poor.

Snape knew these people. He ate with them, slept with them, and went to class with them. It is so much easier to understand and befriend someone you spend time with. I’d say that most people who subscribe to problematic ideologies aren’t just awful to be around all the time, or else these movements wouldn’t gain any traction. They’re likely funny and nice to be around if you’re not on their bad side.

In addition to strong peer pressure to befriend the people who would be death eaters, he was also bullied four to one. His bullies received protection from the headmaster when he was nearly killed or permanently maimed. They were popular and well liked.

The best analogy I’ve heard to describe Snape's Hogwarts situation is that he’s a kid in a rough neighborhood who joins the local gang. It provides protection and the hope of social mobility, and from his perspective, the other gang fights just as dirty (his treatment by the marauders). He doesn’t stop to think that the system is flawed, or that the gang’s very existence indicates the failure of authority and threatens its members. He just sees himself as a kid with nothing who needs help with protection and advancement. We know that Voldemort hasn’t shown his true colors, and it’s possible he showed different faces to different people.

‘Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a witch an’ wizard as I ever knew. Head Boy an’ Girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst’ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get ’em on his side before ... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin’ ter do with the Dark Side.

‘Maybe he thought he could persuade ’em ... maybe he just wanted ’em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Hallowe’en ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’ – an’ –’ (“The Keeper of the Keys”)

Dumbledore’s cited as the reason they turned him down, not their blood status. I think there’s evidence that the wholesale anti-muggleborn campaign wasn’t a huge part of the first wizarding war, and wasn’t implemented until the second, even if there was anti-muggle propaganda. (Muggle=/=muggleborn). It’s implied that Tobias is abusive and that Snape hates him for what he did to him and his mother; it’s implied that faced class prejudice by the muggles around him as well:

“I know who you are. You’re that Snape boy! They live down Spinner’s End by the river,” she told Lily, and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation.

DH 665, The Prince’s Tale

When you read stories about people who are able to escape cycles of gang violence and poverty, there’s almost always someone who lifts them out. There’s someone who pushes them, or extends a hand, or believes in them. There are community outreach programs, or churches, or an English teacher that pushed them to do better and try out for a scholarship. That person is usually someone who knows what it’s like and knows how hard it is to get out.

Snape doesn’t seem to get that support anywhere. Slughorn doesn’t seem to notice him, for whatever reason. Lily doesn’t approve of his friends, but also doesn’t understand at all what the pull is--that it’s hard to swim against the current of what everyone else is saying, despite the fact that she feels the same pressure to end her friendship with Snape.

“… thought we were supposed to be friends?” Snape was saying. “Best friends?” “We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging round with! I’m sorry, but I detest Every and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Marry Macdonald the other day?”

DH 673, The Prince’s Tale

In the very same conversation, the fact that Snape is not allowed to share what happened to him with Lupin and the werewolf incident means that Lily will never be able to understand what Snape is facing: That the leader of the good guys makes excuses for and protects people who recklessly endanger the lives of others.

“And you’re being really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Wollow, and James Potter saved you from whatever’s down there--”

Snape’s whole face contorted and he spluttered, “Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends’ too!...”

DH 674, The Prince’s Tale

Later in the year after SWM, she tells Snape this:

“None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you.”

DH 675 The Prince’s Tale

She expects him to reject all of his classmates and stand against the tide, despite the fact that she knows how hard it is to do that and can’t comprehend why he sticks with his classmates. She expects him to be grateful to James Potter as if what he did was altruistic, because the Headmaster swore Snape to secrecy and he keeps his promises, despite the fact that someone else was spreading the story. (The fact that she says she heard it instead of talking about it like its common knowledge implies that she heard it from a friend, so our friends the Marauders likely weren’t keeping their lips zipped even if Snape was.)

I don’t say this to shift the blame away from Snape to Lily in regards to Snape joining the Death Eaters. I just want to point out that Lily wasn't someone who could help him break the cycle. He didn’t squander some chance she offered him. She just wasn’t enough to break him out--not empathetic, motivated, or well-informed enough. (I think the fact that they were peers plays a big role in that).

Ultimately, Snape did choose to join the Death Eaters. He did yield to peer pressure. He did obey his assignment and report the prophecy to Voldemort. He spent his youth yielding, following the path in front of him, and choosing what was probably the easier choice: stick with your group, find powerful friends, do what they want, and don’t ask too many questions about their methods. That’s what makes his decision to betray Voldemort so powerful to me.

Here’s part of the passage when Snape betrays Voldemort:

...The adult Snape was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, waiting for something or for someone...His fear infected Harry too, even though he knew that he could not be harmed, and he looked over his shoulder wondering what it was that Snape was waiting for--

Then a sliding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air. Harry thought of lightning, but Snape had dropped to his knees and his wand had flown out of his hand.

“Don’t kill me!”

DH 676, The Prince’s Tale

He was terrified. He knew he was caught between the world’s two most powerful wizards, but it was worth it if he could save his childhood friend.

Then when Lily dies:

“Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the share and color of Lily Evans’s eyes, I am sure?”

“DON’T!” bellowed Snape. “Gone...dead...”

“Is this remorse, Severus?”

“I wish..I wish I were dead....”

“And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly.

DH 678, The Prince’s Tale

Whatever motivation Snape had before is gone. A person’s life who is not his own is worth more than his own, and he’s drowning in guilt. From now on, Snape works to be useful in saving Harry’s life, and later many lives, at risk of death. His choices are a black mark on his record, likely making it difficult for him to get a job when he’s been tried as a Death Eater, and all of his wizarding connections are Death Eaters or their associates. He has no money or influence. Dumbledore hires him.

So Lupin has a single ailment and faces constant social and legal discrimination. He constantly tries to undermine people’s expectations about werewolves by being mild, but unfortunately is too afraid of rejection and its consequences to stand up against bad behavior or take full responsibility for his failings. He has friends who support him, but do it by engaging in risky behavior. He does not stop them. Perhaps he fears exposure and expulsion. Perhaps he just likes belonging for once. Either way, he does not come clean until forced to.

Snape is different; instead of facing outright rejection, he’s from a poor background and grows up surrounded by peers who join something somewhere between a gang and a cult while being bullied by people groomed by a rival organization. The headmaster of his school supports the rival organization and swears him to secrecy about an incident when they endangered his life, sending the message that his life is worthless. That same group continues to publicly bully him. He continues down this path until he realizes that it endangers something he cares about, and makes a decision that puts him at risk of being killed by the two most powerful wizards alive. He changes course.

Snape seems to view his problems as challenges facing him, whereas Lupin sees his problems as part of who he is, and not something he can change. Lupin seems to accept what happens to him in a fatalist kind of way. He sees what happens as inevitable and somewhat out of his control, whereas Snape never seems to blame his circumstances for him becoming a death eater, even though they clearly limited his options. I think that attitude matters. However, because Lupin’s facing a fictional magical malady, it’s difficult to fully blame him for that attitude.

Both Lupin and Snape have to react to powerful societal pressure that makes it difficult for them to succeed. Comparing them is apples and oranges at best, because their circumstances were so different. I don’t think you can judge either’s morality based on group identity, though.

3. Finally, they both act as a window on James: who he was, and what he means to Harry, who never knew him. That means in some way, they help pass on his parental legacy to orphaned Harry.

Hogwarts is Harry’s home, which means that the teachers are more than just teachers, but play a symbolic parental role in his life.

Hogwarts was the first and best home he had known. He and Voldemort and Snape, the abandoned boys, had all found home here.

DH 697, The Forest Again

You can’t understand Harry without realizing what he lacks: a loving home and living parents. He’s always looking into the past to find his parents, and is saddled with a legacy he struggles to understand--why did he live, who were his parents, and what does he need to do now?

Lupin and Snape also share a connection with Harry that goes beyond a normal teacher-student relationship, unlike McGonagall or Flitwick. Snape and Lupin are more personally connected to Harry than the other professors because they know Harry’s parents and went to school with them. I will mostly focus on James from here on out since we know so little about Lily personally and Harry mostly tries to emulate or avoid his father’s behavior and legacy.

They’re also the last people who knew James to survive, and they die almost at the same time. They’re the only teachers apart from Dumbledore who give Harry private lessons. More importantly, these lessons are all tied thematically to Harry’s past. Harry’s experience with dementors and the patronus charm are his first re-encounter with his parents and his past.

Terrible though it was to hear his parents’ last moments replayed inside his head, these are the only times Harry had heard their voices since he was a very small child. But he’d never be able to produce a proper patronus if he half wanted to hear his parents again.

PoA 243, The Patronus

In the end of PoA, Harry sees himself and mistakenly thinks it’s his father.

“Come on!” he muttered, staring about. “Where are you? Dad, come on--”

But no one came. Harry raised his head to look atet he circle of dementors across the lake. One of them was lowering its hood. It was time for the rescuer to appear--but no one was coming to help this time--

And then it hit him--he understood. He hadn’t seen his father--he had seen himself--

Harry flung himself out from behind the bush and pulled out his want.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” he yelled.

PoA 411, Hermione’s Secret

So the patronus itself is linked up with Harry’s past, and his coming-of-age. He doesn’t rely on others to save him, but must do it himself. (Though Harry’s never really trusted the adults to save him.) It’s interesting to note that Harry actually learns the Patronus charm under Lupin’s tutelage.

On the other hand, Snape introduces Harry to the unpleasant side of his father’s legacy. Through Snape, we see that James wasn’t just a little cocky, but a bully.

“Apologize to Evans!” James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him. “I don't want you to make him apologize,” Lily shouted, rounding on James. “You're as bad as he is.” “What?” yelped James. “I'd NEVER call you a--you-know-what!” “Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can--I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.” She turned on her heel and hurried away.

....

He had no desire at all to return to Gryffindor Tower so early, nor to tell Ron and Hermione what he had just seen. What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him; it was that he knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him. OotP, Snape’s Worst Memory, emphasis added

It’s interesting note that Harry fails to learn Occlumency from Snape. (In fact, we never see Harry use magical skills he learned from Snape apart from Expelliarmus, which is...important). At the same time, he gains an important perspective.

You can’t have James without this part of him. However kind James was to Lupin, however brave James was when he saved his wife, he was neither kind nor brave when he bullied Snape. It’s uncomfortable and awkward, but it’s important.

When he had finished, neither Sirius nor Lupin spoke for a moment. Then Lupin said quietly, “I wouldn’t like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen —”

“I’m fifteen!” said Harry heatedly.

OotP

Harry rejects the idea that actively bullying someone is just folly of youth. He knows what it’s like to be disenfranchised. Regardless of what Snape and James’ relationship was, he didn’t deserve that kind of humiliation. And Lupin watched, and defends him. Harry has to grapple with that.

Ultimately, Snape and Lupin do more than just connect him to his past. They also teach him his two signature spells, Expelliarmus and Expecto Patronum. One saves his soul, and one saves his life and frees the wizarding world from Voldemort because of Voldemort’s fractured soul.

Snape and Lupin as moral counterpoints

How do we evaluate this:

“I’d never have believed this,” Harry said. “The man who taught me to fight dementors--a coward.”*****5

DH 213, The Bribe

and this?

“Albus Severus, you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.

DH 758, Seventeen years later

Ultimately, I don’t think it’s really that useful to pit two people with different backgrounds against each other. At the same time, they represent two different halves of a question: when it comes down to it, should we try to be kind or brave? I don’t think you have to pick one, but when pursuing the two, there are bound to be moments of conflict.

I always come back to the lyrics to Last Midnight from Sondheim’s Into the Woods.******6

You're so nice You're not good You're not bad You're just nice I'm not good I'm not nice I'm just right I'm the witch You're the world

Snape doesn’t care about being nice. I think this is where most non-Snape fans start pulling out the pitchforks and torches. Snape isn’t nice, and he’s not nice to kids. He’s not nurturing.*******7 He’s abrasive, allergic to coddling, and petty when he can get away with it. In fact, most of the people he’s ‘nice’ to are significantly more powerful than him, or someone he needs to be on good terms with.

Lupin is nice. He’s mild. He’s often kind. However, he often picks being liked over standing up for something.

What does that result in? He doesn’t stand up for Snape. The bullying continues and keeps Snape firmly on his path. He wins the respect of the Gryffindors with the Snape Boggart incident but loses whatever credibility he had to tell Snape to ‘put their past behind him.’

On the other hand, Neville’s bravery in DH was nurtured by Lupin’s confidence. Neville kept hope alive and led a rebellion. Lupin is one of the few adults that Harry fully respects and trusts up until the Grimmauld place confrontation. (He likes Hagrid and Molly, but doesn’t necessarily trust them to make decisions in their best interest, while he usually respects Lupin’s judgement). Harry loves him, and it’s because he loved him and watched him die that he needs to act and fight back against Voldemort.

Ultimately, Harry’s relationship with James and the adults who pass on his legacy is one of the most important symbolic relationships in the book. The thematic resolution of the series is Harry’s act of sacrificial love.

He did not know what to feel, except shock at the way Snape had been killed, and the reason for which it had been done....

...He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies, to see who else had died for him. He could not bear to join the Weasleys, could not look into their eyes, when if he had given himself up in the first place, Fred might never had died...

He turned away and ran up the marble staircase. Lupin, Tongs...He yearned not to feel....He wished he could rip out his heart, his innards, everything that was screaming inside of him.

To escape into someone else’s head would be a blessed relief....Nothing that even Snape had left him could be worse than his own thoughts.

DH 660-662, The Prince’s Tale

He rushes to the headmaster’s office to escape into Snape's memories. His memories convince Harry that sacrificing himself is the expedient thing to do, and he heads to the Forbidden Forest. To enable is last sacrifice, he uses the Resurrection stone to witness his parents and his father’s friends. Their combined testimony is enough to ameliorate his personal fears about following through with this final act.

Lupin and Snape leave entirely different legacies behind. Lupin encourages and inspires. As an authority figure, he gives people like Neville space to grow and his compassion towards Harry gives him the strength to face his demons. Harry’s decision in DH to die must have something to do with the kindness he was shown, and the sacrifices people who loved him made for him, of which Lupin is a part. Despite what he saw in Princes’ Tale, Snape wasn’t one of the people who’d make an appearance with the Resurrection stone.

Yet Snape sacrificed his life for Harry and the wizarding world, entities that Snape didn’t seem to like and that certainly weren’t kind to him. His form of bravery is about endurance, tenacity, and willingness to do what is right even when you hate your allies and no one else is going to credit you for what you do. And that’s very Harry. Even if he hates Draco, he’s not about to let him die if he can help it. Harry has much more in common with Snape than Lupin, I think.

Since this is about souls, let’s return to the Patronus charm. Snape’s not the kind of person who typically inspires that kind of emotion required to cast a Patronus in others, at least from what we see in Harry’s perspective. Yet because he has experienced that love, he can cast it and shows Harry what needs to be done. Snape enables Harry to dive under the ice. Lupin’s the kind of person who can inspire a patronus, but isn’t the one to make the sacrifice play until after Harry confronts him about his duty to his family. Ultimately, though, they both sacrifice themselves in the Battle of Hogwarts.

* Ever since I realized how blatantly tangential Order of Merlin must be to Snape’s character motivation, that line has frustrated me to no end. There’s no way frothing-at-the-mouth PoA Snape just really coveted that Order of Merlin. He’s often petty, yeah, but if Lupin believes it’s just about that and has nothing to do with Snape’s real conviction about how dangerous Lupin’s actions were, he’s deluding himself. I hate that he passes it on to his students.

**Yes, I am making up words today. Lupin’s faces prejudice and discrimination on a social level enforced by increasingly powerful discriminatory laws.

*** It’s worth noting that if we take every book as equally valid canon, then there’s either widespread ignorance towards lycanthropy, as Lockhart convinces everyone he was able to “cure” the Wagga-Wagga werewolf, and as teenage Horcrux!Riddle said Hagrid raised werewolf cubs under his bed, or else lycanthropy is actually a wide range of conditions under a wolfy umbrella ranging from treatable to incurable. Lupin is our primary source for lycanthropy: he’s the one who tells us about Greyback, for example. If we hold the first two books as equally valid, then perhaps we only know about Lupin’s particular type of condition. That’s the Watsonian analysis, anyways.

****4 These footnotes are getting ridiculous. Basically, there’s no consensus on what Dark Magic is, and on what basis it’s Evil. This essay goes into things that are labelled as curses. I’m inclined to believe that the vast majority of Dark Magic is just Magic We Don’t Like for Reasons.

The definition of what is and isn't considered Dark Magic is never explained: often it just seems to mean "a curse I don't approve of". Even "curse" has never been satisfactorily defined, but we can certainly say that not all curses are regarded as evil, since some appear to be on the Hogwarts curriculum, and are certainly performed without censure.

*****5 While I paired the quotes at the top of this section together for dramatic effect, it’d be a shame not to look at the context of the Lupin fight.

“I thought you’d say [that your mission was top secret],” said Lupin, looking disappointed. But I might still be of some use to you. You know what I am and what I can do. I could come with you to provide protection. There would be no need to tell me exactly what you were up to. Harry hesitated. It was a very tempting offer.

Hermione then asks about Tonks.

“I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually”... ...“I’d never have believed this,” Harry said. “The man who taught me to fight dementors--a coward.”

...“Parents shouldn’t leave their kids unless--unless they’ve got to.”

...“I know I shouldn’t have called him a coward.”“No, you shouldn’t,” said Ron at once. “But he’s acting like one. “ “All the same...” said Hermione.

“I know,” said Harry. “But if it makes him go back to Tonks, it’ll be worth it, won’t it?”

He could not keep the plea out of his voice. Hermione looked sympathetic, Ron uncertain. Harry looked down at his feet, thinking of his father. Would James have backed Harry in what he had said to Lupin, or would he have bene angry at how his son had treated his old friend?

DH 213, The Bribe

Harry feels personally betrayed that someone who has a family and child would abandon them. Here he is unyielding and accusing to someone he cares about in the hopes that they re-evaluate what matters. It’s a rather Snape-like tactic, actually. Or else a Dumbledore one.

I love the dialogue in this scene, but have some major issues with how Harry’s internalization drops out the window for shock value. JKR does the same thing when has Harry pull the Veritaserum trick in HBP. I don’t like it.

******6 The witch and Snape aren’t perfect analogues, since she’s decidedly more amoral in my opinion, but they’re both contractually-motivated characters whose humanity is shown by their (platonic/familial) love for a more “innocent” character and the guilt at the innocent character’s sacrificial death. Guilt doesn’t lead the witch to do anything productive, and for Snape it does, which is where they diverge on the character path.

*******7 Draco may be an exception to this. However, watching Snape struggle to build rapport with Draco in HBP leads me to think that while Snape’s been on Draco’s side, he’s still not “nurturing,” or in other words, good at cultivating trust and encouraging the strong and wholesome parts of someone’s personality to grow.

#hp meta #snape #pro snape #severus snape #remus lupin #i haven't figured out how to make this appear above the cut...

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magaprima · 3 years

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Part 4 One Shot: Meeting Baby Adam

The memory of the sheer fear and desperation she’d felt the night she’d...infected herself with the Dark Lord’s seed wasn’t one she was ever likely to forget. She’d known he intended to kill her, and it would neither have been quick or painless. But, as always, she’d found a way to survive, as...unpleasant as the entire arrangement had been. She’d known Lucifer’s ego wouldn’t have been able to resist the promise of a son, especially one that wasn’t diluted by mortality as Sabrina was. A stay of execution he’d called it, and that was exactly what she’d expected; after all, thirteen months was more than enough time to come up with a plan, to finish Lucifer once and for all, and ensure her own life was protected in the process. She’d hadn’t come so far only to...retreat all the way to the beginning once again.

The baby therefore had been a means to an end. She’d birthed demonic creatures before-- not traditionally, she’d never actually been pregnant, but they were all still her children, she had given something of herself each time to make them, and they did all call her Mother. But she didn’t love them, she didn’t...excessively care for them. She’d had no reason to think this child, this Morningstar would be any different. And any sickness she’d felt, any...over-whelmining nausea he’d caused had only cemented the idea in her mind. Anything that caused her to feel this sick, this weak, at any point was not exactly going to earn her affection.

But....whenever her stomach was settled, whenever she didn’t feel ill, when she’d finally developed a particular potion that eased those symptoms, she couldn’t deny that being aware of something growing inside her was oddly...connecting. She’d even, on occasion, found herself smiling, even humming to herself in private contentment. She decided it was due to the fact she was slowly forming a plan, that everything would, eventually, come together. The fact she flinched in displeasure whenever Lucifer named the child ‘my son’, however, was something she hadn’t really wanted to explore. Besides, there had still been many months to go, almost a year, in fact.

If not for what happened.

It had been a twinge at first. A muscle spasm. A brief shot of pain that had hurt but wasn’t of any real concern. But then it came again. Bigger. More painful. She’d known instantly that something was wrong and it wasn’t merely her witch instincts that told her that, but something else, some...intuition telling her there was something bad happening to the tiny life growing inside her. The pain quickly became unbearable, even in its initial short bursts. She’d tried to swallow it, to breathe through it, but something inside her was ripping through her, pushing at organs, all of her insides. Pushing them violently.

The sudden, accelerated growth had been agonisingly fast, ripping through all of her, kicking through every part of her relentlessly, carelessly, destroying and cutting through parts of her to make room for the life inside her that was growing so much faster than was possible, even by infernal standards. And the sudden weight, the sudden change of weight of what had been nothing more than an almost imperceptible fetus becoming a complete and whole baby, had brought her to knees, unable to balance anymore than she was able to bear the pain.

Her concern should have been for herself and only herself. The baby was killing her and she should have thought of nothing but how to stop it, how to survive it...and yet, despite herself, her first flicker of a thought was to her son. My baby. If it was ripping her apart, then that meant he was being torn apart too; growing too fast, ripping out of her, would kill him as much as it would kill her....and not only did Lilith hate that she knew that, she hated that she cared.

She’d known where she needed to go, the only people who could actually help her-- and her son. She’d known it even if she didn’t like it. The last time she’d gone to the Spellmans for sanctuary she’d be turned away, but if they did that this time, Lilith knew she’d die. The Spellman Sisters were not just witches, they were skilled midwives, with centuries of experience of delivering babies of all varieties. They'd been her only hope and one that, thankfully, hadn’t been misplaced.

As she’d lay writhing on that bed, she’d known her baby was tearing apart. She hadn’t just felt it, she’d known it. She’d known then that that was what was meant to happen, someone was tearing them apart, someone was trying to kill them both, and Lilith wanted to hate the child for giving her this vulnerability. If she hadn’t been pregnant, if she hadn’t been carrying him, no one could have used this spell on her, she would have nothing to exploit, no vulnerability. The pregnancy might have, briefly, saved her life, but the baby had made her weak. It had made it possible for her enemies to not only attack her, but to succeed. She’d be ripped apart on this bed, she’d be dead and everything would have been for nothing, all of it. She’d be gone. Dead because her baby had made her weak.

And then the pain faded. Gone. Nothing but a dull hum as all around her the witches screamed in agony, taking on her pain. She’d been bewildered, confused, not just by the power of the spell, of how it had been possible in the first place, that a mere prayer of a spell from Zelda Spellman had compelled the Goddess of Witches herself to intervene, but also that any of the coven would be willing to do it, that they’d want to spare her the pain. And she felt them pushing, all of them. All of them pushing with her, physically pushing, all of them joined to get the baby out of her, to share the pain and the suffering, all of it, to help her survive. It gave Lilith time not only to realise that she wouldn’t die, that these people were not going to let her die, but that her baby wouldn’t die either, that she’d see him, that in minutes she would, actually, see him. And she didn’t want to. She should be hating him, she should be cursing his existence for what he’d done to her....but she wasn’t. She tried, she tried so hard to hate him as she pushed, but that hatred, that oh so familiar and comforting emotion wouldn’t come. If she couldn’t hate him now, for all this, when she’d never even seen him, held him...Lilith had dreaded what it would mean when she did.

This had not been part of her...emergency plan to save her own life. The baby had been nothing but a means to an end. A pregnancy to spare her life and a child that could, potentially and possibly, be used as some...bargaining chip at a later point. Caring for the child was never her intention nor was it her desire. And as she’d felt the creature finally slip out of her, she’d felt a cold dread grip her. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to see him. But she knew Hilda would make her, that, inevitably, he would be brought to her. A son to his Mother. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want him. She didn’t want what it would mean. She was the Mother of Demons, not a mother of some actual baby. She didn’t want to be that. She didn’t want to care for something other than herself. It would make her weak, make her vulnerable, just as the pregnancy had. She wanted Lucifer gone and she wanted the throne. That’s all. She wouldn’t have some....satanic miracle change that, interfering with it.

She could hear him crying and she’d still refused to look, instead keeping her eyes on the ceiling, avoiding everyone in the room, all of it. Trying her best to ignore as Hilda cut the cord, as she wrapped him in a blanket with the clear intent of....presenting him to Lilith. She didn’t want this. She’d never wanted this. Take it away, she thought silently, take it away, even as her head turned to look, to watch Hilda. She could see a hand, just the tiniest glimpse of a hand....and she wanted to see more. She’d delivered him, it had nearly killed her, she should at least see the cause of that, to put an actual face to her near cause of death.

But the nearer Hilda grew, the more Lilith had felt the desire to do more than see him. She wanted to hold him. He’s mine, she thought silently. He’s mine and I should be the one holding him. He’s mine. He’s mine. Without even realising what she was doing, Lilith reached out for him, her arms stretching towards Hilda, encouraging her to hand him over. She just wanted to see him, that was all, to know what it felt like....what he felt like. They’d both been attacked after all and they’d both been through the pain and trauma and....searing agony of this...unexpected delivery. Both of them. Together.

Lilith reached out more eagerly, feeling Hilda was not being...prompt enough. And then she saw his face. Crying, upset by everything that happened and she’d felt an overwhelming desire to soothe him, to remind him he wasn’t alone in this, and to make him feel better for it. Please, give him to me, she thought, and the moment he was in her arms the....wariness disappeared, the attempted resentment, all of it, giving way to something entirely different and entirely...overwhelming.

She loved him. There was no escaping it. She loved him. He was perfect. Instinctively, she hushed him gently, rocking him a little, wanting to soothe his cries and dry his tears. I know, she thought, I know. We were attacked, we suffered...but we survived. We’re both survivors. This love was different than anything she’d ever known; it didn’t feel like it was taking from her, it felt felt like it was giving. She’d worried that being even remotely attached the child would mean she would be weak, that she would...give up on certain goals in favour of newfound motherhood. Instead, it was the opposite. Lilith felt a flame inside her burn brighter than ever as her determination became fiercer than ever too. For him, for her son. Her son who she loved and who she would protect at all costs. He’d started his life in suffering, but she’d make sure he wouldn’t live that way. Lucifer wouldn’t come near him, none of Hell’s Court would...not until she and her son were both ruling over it.

She’d never known love could be such a...rallying strength, how powerful it could really be, until now. She loved him and she had no desire to deny it, not to herself, not to anyone.

“He’s perfect” She declared, “A perfect little devil”

#p4 one shots #this has been in my head for a while #i didn't focus too much on the actual birth because i feel i've gone into that much more in analysis #and this was more about lilith's connection to adam

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mcrninqstar · 3 years

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𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑡: 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑠

SUMMARY: Love is patient, love is kind…but love is also strong. Cupid gathers Lucifer, Levi, Zatanna, and Rachel together on Valentine’s Day to finally put an end to an awful curse placed upon Lucifer and Levi by God himself. TRIGGERS: Angst, Pain WRITTEN WITH: @ofcupidslove, @zztophat, @trigonsgem, @ofleviathcns, @mazikeenofmurders

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: Cupid was nervous. She had all the ingredients and the back up that she needed, but this was the biggest expansion of her power and magic that she'd performed in well, ever. So many people were counting on her to get this right, and she didn't want to let them down. Belphegor had stopped by earlier to give her a pep talk and it really helped boost her confidence. They always believed in her when she didn't believe in herself. They had a lot of things planned for Cupid's birthday so she was excited to get the show on the road. Only, her confidence started waning a little bit as the preparation work for the spell dragged on for longer than she thought it would. Cupid glanced at her watch and then back at the bowl of ingredients she was mixing together.

"Hey," Zatanna nudged Cupid gently as she placed another bowl beside her. "We'll get you out of here as soon as we can," she promised the angel. It was Valentine's Day and Cupid's birthday. The magician was just as eager as the angel to push the spell forward. She and Michael had plans tonight. Their last date night had been crashed by his siblings. She was hoping this date night wouldn't be spoiled too.

Both Bells and Michael stopped by Cupid's greenhouse earlier in the day to provide some support and a few extra ingredients. After talking with Dean, Zee knew that Belphegor was planning a date night for themselves and Cupid. Planning was a rare thing for Bells and Zee knew Cupid didn't want to miss the date. She would do what she could to push the spell through, but the prep work that was required was extensive. Michael had brought in a few god artifacts that they had to dismantle and siphon power from. Even with Michael and Lucifer's help, siphoning all that power had taken more time than expected. They were finally reaching the end of the prep work and would be able to start the ritual soon.

"Are we ready?" Lucifer asked. He'd been a bit of a helicopter since the whole thing started. He wasn't sure what to do with himself or how he could help, but he wanted to help. He'd sent Maze back out to Los Angeles to keep an eye on Chloe during the ritual. He wasn't sure what kind of affect this would have on Chloe. More than anything, he wanted to give the Detective her free will back. If she chose not to come back to him, he would understand. And if she did come back to him, at least he would know the choice was hers and there was no god meddling to it. "Is there anything else you need?"

"I think..." Cupid glanced at the notes she'd written down for herself. "I think we're good. I, uh, I need you all to gather in that sigil over there." She pointed to the center of the greenhouse where a large sigil was drawn, in the middle of the sigil stood an alter. "Once you're in there, I'll need you three to drink this," she held up a flask full of potion that Zatanna helped her mix earlier. Lucifer took the offered flask and made his way over to the sigil in the middle of the room. After taking a swig of the potion (which was disgusting) he passed it off to his brother. "Bombs away, Levi."

LEVI: levi was ready for this whole thing to be fixed, being stuck in limbo like this had taken a toll on him and he could only imagine what it had been like for rachel. in an attempt to not cause her any extra pain he'd kept his distance, although he'd forgotten about the gifts and flowers he'd set up to be delivered to her... that had been an awkward conversation... but at least it was going to be coming to an end soon. since levi had been told that cupid was going to do her spell he'd been moving between being excited to finally have his angel back and worried that he'd really lose her this time. when he arrived at the greenhouse he'd kept to the fringes, speaking to lucifer occasionally and avoiding zatanna's glares. he didn't know if rachel wanted to speak to him but anytime their eyes met he'd give her a smile, letting her have the choice in speaking to him or not. hearing that it was ready he followed lucifer to the sigil and took the flask from him, taking a drink of it before grimacing at the flavour "angel- i mean, here rachel." he smiled awkwardly before offering her the potion

RACHEL: Rachel was beyond ready for this to be fix, she couldn't count how many times she'd almost let her rage get the best of her lately, talking to Zatanna helped but part of her knew that things would never be fixed unless this curse was gone. She felt it each away at her every single day something seemed to remind her of Levi which was almost too easy these days. It was like she was always fighting with herself when it came to being around Levi seeing how he wore his pain on his face she could see how much he wanted this curse broken yet at the same time she noticed his worry of losing her forever because that was always a possibility something Zatanna and her talked about in great lengths. She gave Zee a softly smile as she moved towards the sigil following Cupid's request she always hated this day especially given how lovely everyone always acted around this day made her sick. She could felt Lucifer's pain and Levi's nervousness when she got closer to them smiling softly at her once boyfriend. "I don't mind you calling me angel, snake charmer" She replied softly taking the potions downing the rest of it without issue before turning her attention towards Cupid.

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: Cupid took a deep breath to steady herself as everyone made their way over to the sigils and drank the nasty, icky potion she spent three hours working on. She had to get this right. If she was able to break this spell, then that meant there was hope for breaking Belphegor's curse too. It meant that there was hope that they could undo what God did. "Can you draw this mark on everyone's palm?" Cupid asked Zatanna as she tapped on the piece of paper to show her the drawing. The magician nodded and obliged, taking care to draw the symbol on each individual's palm before making her way over to the alter in the middle of the sigil.

Cupid entered the sigil moments later and a shift in power happened. It was like a vacuum sucked the air in around them. They could all see Cupid's halo now, its shine almost blinding. "Sorry," Cupid apologized to them all as she tried to steady herself. The flow of power was nauseating. "The markings on your palm sort of act as a power share." Two fallen archangels, a half demon, a magician, and a whole bunch of God artifacts they'd siphoned power from. If this wasn't enough magic to break through a God curse, Cupid didn't know what would be. Her current form couldn't handle much more power. She made her way to the alter, holding onto it to steady herself.

"I don't know what the cosmic consequences of this spell will be," she admitted. "I don't know if it will hurt or not." The literature wasn't very clear on that. "But there is one thing you three need to know. If I break this spell, God will know. He'll feel it, just as you feel it." These curses were as much a part of God as anything else. "There's a risk he could come back..." she glanced up at Lucifer, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Then that's a risk we'll have to take," Lucifer replied. What was one more fight for free will anyway? Maybe this time when God showed up, Lucifer and Michael would be on the same side for once. Or maybe Lucifer was just being hopeful. He didn't care either way. He wanted his freedom back; he wanted those around him to have the right to choose to be around him. What was love, power, and devotion if not a choice of free will? "Go on, dove," he encouraged Cupid. "Give the old man a good old fuck you for us. He deserves it after everything he's done. What do you need us to do?"

Cupid let out a sigh of relief as Lucifer agreed to the consequences. She didn't want to be the one to make that choice. She didn't want to be the one to potentially call God here. But the devil gave her permission and she was going for it. "One fuck you, coming right up," she nodded. "If you could all please link hands...let's get this started."

LEVI: he smiled softly at rachel at least she doesn't seem to completely hate me he thought to himself "well, who am i to deny you what you want angel." levi winked at her before turning to face cupid "i agree with goose, let him come." his tone was steely and if anyone read his thoughts they'd get a peek at how furious levi was with his father, not only for what he'd done to him and rachel, but for what he'd done to bells... levi had plenty of things to work through with god. part of him was still worried about what this would do to rachel, levi didn't want her to go through any more pain but he knew she wanted to be in charge of her own choices and feelings so he'd do what he could to ease any pain she had to go through. "make him suffer." he held his hand out to lucifer before reaching over to rachel with his other hand "whatever it takes... right angel?"

RACHEL: She gave Levi a soft smile that didn't reach her eyes, she struggled to be happy lately, before turning to cupid taking a deep breath to calm her rage at the mere mention of the name. "I'd make you all orphans in a matter of seconds, so best crack on with this." She replied a heat behind her voice she hardly ever used before watching the other. She could keep her cool, her years of meditation had helped her growing up and she wasn't about to mess anything up or though it off the spell. She sighed turning back to Lucifer and Levi taking both of their hands feeling butterflies swim around her stomach wishing this would finish quickly without too much pain but she could take anything thrown at her, she won't be controlled anymore by anyone. "Whatever it takes." she nodded her head at Levi taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: "I dunno about making him suffer," Cupid chuckled. "I'm strong, but not that strong." Even Rachel's threat of making them orphans was overstated. "But I can certainly knock him down a peg or two." As the three affected individuals connected hands another wave of energy swept through the building. Cupid nodded to Zatanna and anointed the magician's hands and then her own with a sort of herbal mixture. The two linked hands at the center of the alter.

The angel took a deep breath and the pair began to recite a spell in unison. "Amor animi ex amore et ex animo, et animarum illorum iam semet explicare." The wind around them picked up as Cupid and Zatanna chanted love from love and mind from mind, let their souls now unwind. The alter below their hands began to glow as if something divine was forming beneath them. Cupid smiled to herself, momentarily surprised that the spell was working. "Venite et partem animae, ut sit amor sui." The angel chanced a glance over at the party of three. She could see the outline of a red string forming around each of them. Levi and Rachel's met somewhere in the middle and Lucifer's continued onward for what seemed like forever, connecting him all the way to Chloe back in Los Angeles.

Cupid continued the chant and the glow from the alter crawled up her arm until her whole body was now glowing too. The wind was picking up speed, knocking the plans in the greenhouse all around like a mini tornado, but the effects of this tornado weren't felt inside the protective circle. As long as everyone stayed inside the circle, they would be unharmed. The same could not be said for her plants. Even the forever flowers were suffering. Cupid herself felt like she was being battered around as she continued the spell. Her energy was waning as she poured everything she had into this. "Ne liberi amore sit, non est in vincula! she finished, gasping as she let go of Zatanna's hands.

The glow around Cupid quickly receded back into the alter. As her eyes adjusted, she smiled. Sitting there on the alter was a pair of golden scissors that hadn't been there before. "Holy shit..." she grinned.

"Is that a holy shit it worked? Or holy shit we're in trouble?" Lucifer asked, as he glanced over his shoulder at Cupid. Based on the level of destruction outside the protective circle, he hoped it was the former and not the latter. Even with all the divine power given to them, he could see Cupid and Zatanna were in rough shape. They wouldn't be able to do this again.

"It worked," Cupid smiled as she leaned over the alter and took a shaky breath. Zatanna came over to steady her, but the magician was just as shaky. They'd both expanded so much energy into the spell, but Cupid knew the work wasn't done. "I'm okay," she assured Zatanna. The angel of love grabbed the Golden Scissors off the alter and made her way over to the trio. "The strings here..." she indicated. "They're called Red Strings of Fate. In order to free you, I have to cut them. I dunno what it's gonna feel like, but odds are its going to be unpleasant. So...that being said, who wants to go first?"

LEVI: when cupid and zatanna began the spell levi kept glancing over at rachel. he trusted the pair to be able to manage the spell, he'd gone on more than one expedition to fetch powerful objects at zatanna's behest so he knew that cupid had enough power to channel... so he couldn't help but worry about rachel not that he would ever not worry. when cupid finished the spell levi looked down, seeing the string between himself and rachel before looking back to cupid as she held the scissors "not that i don't trust you dear, cause i do, but i really hope those three sisters don't show up... they're a little upset with me after a party in athens." he chuckled before looking to rachel "well angel, shall we bite the bullet or let the silly goose go first."

RACHEL: Looked at the at everyone this ritual so far had gone well, she trusted Cupid to know what she was doing and even so the curse affect her realm if anyone could break it, she knew it was her. Part of her was shocked to see the red line come between her and Levi, she'd read many stories that talked about the red line of fate that linked people together and it always sounded so romantic but right now it was something that could be forcing her to love Levi something she hatred with a passion. "I'm not surprised your brilliant both of you" She looked at Zatanna and Cupid nodding her head before turning back towards Levi as Cupid came over towards them with the scissors shaking her head at Levi's silliness "I don't mind going first I'm sure everyone in this room wants this over as soon as possible." She took a breath squeezing Levi's hand for a moment before using her powers to send him a telepathic message. No matter what, hanging out with you has been a highlight these last couple months. You are worth everything in my eyes Levitation, try not to hate me on the other side of this. She mused staring at him giving his hand yet another squeeze. "Any advice about what will happen when these get cut?" She asked Cupid softly

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: "Ah, your reputation proceeds you, Levi. Whatcha do? Sleep with them and then not call?" Cupid teased as she held the scissors. She felt a brief surge of power wave through her that she really couldn't control. The scissors in her hands shifted form and became a pair of daggers, then a saw, then a sword, before going back to their scissor form. Shit. She swallowed hard. Gotta stay stable. Deep breaths. Don't fuck this up.

"Cupid..." Lucifer called to her gently. They had visible threads but Cupid was hanging on by a string of her own. If she pushed too far...well, let's just say Lucifer would rather be damned for the rest of his life than deal with the aftermath of a dead Cupid.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured him. She stood tall and as self-assured as she could. Lucifer nodded, and pressed a button on the ear piece he had with him. It connected him to Maze who was in LA with Chloe. He was relieved that it was still functioning despite all the power radiating in the air. He figured it was due to the safety sigils they'd drawn around themselves and the alter. "Alright, Mazikeen. The red strings should be visible now. We're on the final step. Keep me posted," he requested.

"The lore wasn't specific about what's going to happen when I cut this string," Cupid explained apologetically to Rachel. "Whatever you do, stay in the protective wardings until I lift them," she instructed. She wished she could give Rachel more guidance on what was about to happen especially since she was the victim here. Forced to love Levi, what a tragedy. Cupid was still pissed at Levi for how long he kept this from Rachel. He'd come to Cupid for confirmation after Aamon's banishment and yet still at the Masquerade six months later, it seemed like Rachel was none the wiser about forced affection toward him. He hadn't told her until he'd come back from hell...almost 7 months since his suspicions of the curse first arose.

She took a deep breath and held Levi and Rachel's string. She felt the power radiating off of that string. Cupid nodded to Zatanna who was back at the alter now. The magician read off a line of text from Cupid's notes. The red color in the strings slowly started fading to pink. It all seemed to be draining into Cupid. Once the string was a stark white, Cupid brought the Gold Scissors forward with a shaky hand, she took a deep breath in, and on the exhale, she cut Levi and Rachel's string, releasing them from their bond to each other.

Cupid felt weak and nauseous and had to act fast. She looked over at Lucifer who'd been momentarily distracted by the pair's reaction to the cutting of the string, but then he turned to meet Cupid's gaze. It was now or never. He nodded quickly to Cupid. The angel grasped Lucifer and Chloe's string and watched the red color fade rapidly. Once it was a pristine white, Cupid brought the scissors down once more and cut Lucifer's string, freeing the devil from his binds.

RACHEL: She took a deep breath, she could feel her apprehension at finally ending this curse it didn't matter what happened so long as she was in control again. Rae hated feeling this way she couldn't even know her own mind linked to Levi like this, why couldn't anything in her life be simply. She kept her eyes on Cupid very thankful they'd been able to find a way to break the curse but even she could see the amount of power this was taking from Zatanna and Cupid combined. "I understand Cupid its okay, I can bare whatever happened so long as this works" he replied honestly giving the other a soft smile before taking yet another breath when she felt a tug as the other pulled on their string. Everything started to heat up as the the string turned from red to white but she could handle it, whatever was happening it simply was just a reaction to what was going on during the ritual.

When she felt the string cut she couldn't stop the scream of pain the fell from her lips as she doubled over gripping Lucifer's and Levi's hands tighter then normal. Her blood felt like it was one fire, almost as if a fever had taken over her body as punishment for daring to end the tie that God himself put there when she was born. She could feel spasms of pain shaking her cord as she tried hard to stay within the protect circle and not to hurt the others in there with her. She looked up at Lucifer sure there was worry written all over his face "its receding...she'l be okay...." She spoke taking deep breaths staying bent over on her knees just for a moment to catch her breath.

LEVI: as cupid worked her magic levi had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. being away from rachel like this had made him realise that it wasn't just her affected by the curse. levi had been shrugging off his duties and responsibilities because since meeting her his angel had been the only important thing to him... he'd been acting more and more like his father and levi hated that with every fibre of his being. he'd stopped talking to his family as much and had been putting off telling her about the curse, levi hated everything about how this had changed him and he'd started to become the one thing he didn't want to be.

when rachel's grip tightened on his hand he looked down at her, worry all over his features. he dropped lucifer's hand and knelt beside her, helping support her as the magic worked it's way through her. "i got you angel." he whispered to her. if he could, levi would take as much of the pain from her as he could but he'd promised her that he wouldn't do that so he just held her through it. he himself could feel the spell working through his mind, feeling ties he didn't even know were there burn away and the fog lifting from his consciousness. "i'm so sorry you have to go through this. i never meant for any of this to happen." he knew after this he had to go back to hell and let rachel be herself, as much as he wanted to stay he couldn't.

MAZIKEEN: This was a tense night for all of them, but Maze was glad to not be in the same room where they were trying to break the curse. She was just following Chloe from a distance, keeping out of Chloe's sight, but making sure Chloe stayed in hers. It was mostly boring stuff, but it was still important. She perked up a little when the bluetooth device in her ear beeped. She pressed a button, and it connected her back to Lucifer. "I see it," she told him. For now, it looked like Chloe didn't notice the red string attached to her, which was good. Chloe was focused on picking out groceries. She had no idea what was coming for her as Cupid cut the string connecting Lucifer and Chloe.

Chloe dropped what she was holding and screamed in pain. Maze rushed to her side. Chloe had fallen to the ground, and Maze was kneeling down with her, holding her hand. "Hey, I've got you," she said reassuringly.

"Maze?" Chloe asked. "What the hell are-" She clutched her own body with her other free hand as she remembered the pain she was in.

"Lucifer's working on breaking the curse you're under. It'll be okay soon." The pain was a lot for her, which had been obvious just by what Maze had heard from Rachel, but Chloe didn't have the fortune of being part demon. She was all human, and humans were so fragile. The pain became unbearable for her, and even after it stopped, she passed out. Maze checked her pulse, and she seemed fine. Maze guessed that she'd passed out more from fear than from pain. She'd be fine with a little sleep. Maze picked her up and slung her over her shoulder before talking into the bluetooth again. "Chloe's okay. She's just taking a little nap now. I'll take her back to where she's staying and watch over her over the night to make sure she's still okay. How are things on your end, Lucifer? Are you okay?" She didn't like the idea of him going through the same thing, but he was an archangel. He was probably fine.

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: Zatanna and Cupid flinched in unison when Rachel screamed, but Lucifer didn't have time to react before Cupid was already cutting his string. He felt a burning in his core as if ties were rapidly stripped away. It didn't hurt necessarily, but it didn't feel good either. He felt naked. Not in your usual Tuesday orgy kind of way, but in a vulnerable kind of way.

He flinched when he heard Chloe's screams of agony on the other end of the line. He couldn't be there with her to check in on her and comfort her as Levi was doing for Rachel now, but he trusted Maze. Then the screaming stopped and his heart dropped to his stomach. He let out a sigh of relief when Maze replied that Chloe was okay. She must've just passed out from the pain. Lucifer himself was surprised Rachel was still standing, but she was part demon so that gave her some advantage. "We're okay..." he replied hesitantly to Maze. He looked around at Rachel and Levi for confirmation. They both seemed okay, but Lucifer didn't know if there would be after shocks.

Zatanna knelt down beside Rachel who looked pale and gaunt but was otherwise still breathing. Zee muttered a quick healing spell before nodding to Cupid to finish off the spell. Cupid returned to the alter and took a deep breath. She felt absolutely electrified and not in a good way. The curse was broken but a lot of the residual energy from it still hung within Cupid and she needed to dump it all somewhere. This meant she had to create a cursed object. She picked up one of the large, stuffed teddy bears that were commonly sold during this season and placed him on the alter. "Sorry, Teddy Roosevelt. This hurts me as much as it hurts you." Cupid placed her hands on the alter on each side of the bear. Cupid began to glow once more, this time a light pink. The pink glow drained out of her and into the teddy bear. Once the light completely disappeared, Cupid lost consciousness and dropped to the floor beside the alter.

Lucifer ran over to Cupid to check on her. She was still breathing, but she was weak. The final part of the spell had taken everything out of her. Lucifer glanced at the teddy bear and then back at Zatanna. "Don't touch the bear," she ordered. She walked over to the alter and put on a pair of enchanted gloves. They would keep her safe while handling the bear. Gingerly, she picked it up and placed it inside one of her top hats. She would be able to take it to Michael and have him destroy the remaining energy. "Is she okay?" Zee asked Lucifer as she glanced at Cupid.

"Physically, yes? Emotionally...she's about to miss her date." Lucifer used whatever strength he could muster (which wasn't much at this point, he was beyond exhausted) to pick Cupid up off the ground. "If you lift the protection wardings, I can get her back to Belphegor's place."

Zatanna nodded. "Alright, kids. Brace yourselves." Zatanna took a deep breath and held out her hand. Her eyes began to glow a soft blue as the sigils on the ground burned away. It felt like a bubble had burst around them the moment the wardings were lifted. The entire greenhouse was cluttered and in disarray as if a storm had blown through it while they were doing the spell. Zatanna staggered backward, but grabbed onto Lucifer's shoulder for support. She herself felt very weak now that the wardings were lifted.

"Not to be the bear of bad news, Ms. Zatara, but I think you're about to miss your date too. Levi..." Lucifer looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Can you get Ms. Zatara and Ms. Roth home or would you like me to call one of my demons?"

RACHEL: Rachel heard Chloe scream almost in time with her voice she wasn't sure why she was still standing if anything she blamed her demon half, this took so much out of her she felt tired and weak. She barely register Levi or Zatanna coming down to her. She all but clung to Levi not trusting her legs or body to support her weight after what she'd been through. She watched the rest of things through a haze of tiredness laying her head on Levi's chest "its better this way" She whispered back feeling her head clean through the love haze that used to be there, it was a good thing this pain, it would help her in the long run.

Her eyes snapped open when she felt and heard the sigils began to burn away freeing them at long last, everything seemed different now but she could see how tired everyone in the room was moving to grab Zatanna's hand pulling her close to Levi and herself. "I'm sorry You both missed your dates for us, I really do appreciate everything you've both done." She replied honestly turning an eye to Levi "I'd prefer if you took us...if you aren't too busy Levi....I don't wish to show my weakness to unknown demons.." She asked before shooting a wincing look at Lucifer "No Offense intend"

LEVI: he nodded "just hold on to that angel. it'll pass." levi kept rubbing soothing circles on her back as she worked through it. he looked over his shoulder at his brother meeting his eyes and giving him a nod that he was alright... well as alright as he could be given the circumstances. i'm going home after this... rachel needs to be herself without me around. levi thought to lucifer, not wanting to break the news to rachel with everyone around.

"i have nothing but time for you angel, i'd be happy to get you and ms. zatara home." he smiled softly at her before standing up and holding out his hand to help her up as well as offering one to zatanna "if she doesn't mind that is." levi joked and turned back to lucifer "i'll make sure they get home safe and sound. tell bells i'm sorry for stealing cupid away from their date."

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: Lucifer nodded at Levi's message. He understood where his brother was coming from. He hoped for Levi's sake he didn't stay in hell for too long. It was easy to stay down there and try to ignore the impact of all of this. While the curse made Lucifer weary of all of his connections potentially being coercive, it had a different impact on Levi. It made him hyper focused on his relationship to the point where he forgot everyone else. Going to hell wouldn't fix the isolation he'd caused himself. It would just make things worse. When the dust settled, Lucifer would go down to hell and try to talk him out of it.

Zatanna was disappointed she'd miss her date, but she didn't have energy for much else. Despite her exhaustion, she could see the resolute look on Levi's face. He wasn't coming back. That in and of itself was going to hurt Rachel in the coming days. "You can drop me off first," she told Levi as she took his hand. "You and Rachel probably need to talk." If he really was leaving, she wasn't going to let him just ghost Rachel. He needed to tell her he was going and Zatanna knew he needed to do that with some sense of privacy.

"Safe travels," Lucifer nodded to the three of them. He watched as Levi teleported himself, Rachel, and Zatanna out of the greenhouse. Lucifer stood with Cupid in his arms for a moment as he looked around the mess they'd created. "I'm sorry, Cups," he replied as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He knew she couldn't hear him but he really was sorry. Not just about the condition of her greenhouse or her missed date, but about everything that had happened since she found about about Belphegor's void. The trauma was fresh for everyone in those days and the change in Cupid was gradual. He'd watched her innocence and softness disappear slowly as a result of Belphegor's curse. "We'll fix it," he promised. And with that, he teleported out of the greenhouse and took her back to Belphegor's apartment. / END

#╰☆☆ now tell me what is it you truly desire? | replies ☆☆╮#cupid: discords #zatanna: discords #rachel: discords #levi: discords #maze: discords #mazik #╰☆☆ it's you. it's always been you | mazikeen ☆☆╮

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be11atrixthestrange · 4 years

Text

Step 5: Establishing a Relationship

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

Establishing a Relationship

Now that your relationship has begun, you must learn how to truly become a partner. Establishing and maintaining the relationship will require constant work, as both parties will change and evolve through life. However, committing to a growth mindset and learning how to compromise will make the relationship extremely rewarding.

_____________________________

There was a scratching at their bedroom door. Ron looked up from the fifth chapter, Establishing a Relationship, to see an orange paw gently prodding the door open. Crookshanks bounced across the room and hopped into the bed, assertively nudging Ron's hand away from the book.

Five years ago, Ron probably would have pushed the cat off of the bed. Heck, if Hermione was awake right now, he would have done the same. Instead, with a sideways glance beside him to make sure Hermione was soundly sleeping, he moved the book off of his lap so Crookshanks could curl up there instead.

The purring cat melted into Ron's hand as he scratched him behind his ears. "Hey, buddy," said Ron affectionately, as Crookshanks began kneading his shirt with his claws. He rubbed his face against Ron's hand, and Ron moved down the cat's spine, until he stuck his rump straight up in the hair. Cats are weird, he thought.

It had become their little routine. Every time Hermione fell asleep before him, Crookshanks would find his way to Ron to soak up every ounce of affection Ron would give. In the early days of their relationship, Crookshanks didn't want anything to do with him, hissing and swatting when Ron became the focus of Hermione's attention, his competition. When Ron was alone with the cat, or Hermione was asleep, limiting the cat's affection options, Crookshanks slowly warmed up, allowing Ron to pet him for a few minutes at a time. Over time, they had become best friends by night, but played each other's enemy by day. Ron hated to admit how much the creature had grown on him since third year.

Reluctantly becoming a cat dad wasn't the only indicator of their status as boyfriend and girlfriend. Eventually, introducing Hermione as his girlfriend stopped feeling awkward, and he no longer felt the need to casually mention her at work parties, simply so he could practice using the new term. He knew the shift had been made when Hermione received a wedding invitation addressed to both of them by name, rather than the former "Hermione Granger and Guest", and when his mom knit them matching Christmas jumpers one year.

There were simple things he had mastered by becoming involved with a Muggle-born witch. Learning to order food with the telephone, and to pay for it with the correct amount of muggle money was a larger project that he had anticipated- a project fit for a boyfriend-, and nowadays he insisted they order out at least twice a week, because using the phone was so much fun. Although he thought her obsession with true crime shows was mental, he learned how to record them on their television, and he now understood how to navigate the train system that connected their flat with the airport, so he could pick up Hermione's parents when they flew into London for holiday visits.

There were more complicated things too. When he became adept at using the internet and researched the symptoms of a panic attack, he learned that he was supposed to stay calm and promised himself he'd never raise his voice in fear if it ever happened again, and even though he knew it hurt her, she understood that he would never want to celebrate their anniversary because it fell on the same day that Fred died. He learned that they would occasionally screw up, and say the wrong thing, and that sometimes being Ron and Hermione meant that they wouldn't always feel like best friends. But most importantly, he learned that he couldn't push her away during difficult times, especially if he ever expected her to lean on him in return.

******

The morning after the battle, Ron and Hermione, along with Harry and the rest of the Weasleys went back to the Burrow. Even though there were more people than usual at home, the old house still felt unsettlingly empty. At first the only one who reacted to Ron and Hermione's new relationship was Crookshanks, who suddenly had to compete with another man for affection. Otherwise, they did their best not to draw attention to their new status, and Hermione seemed to fade into the background with Harry, while they tried to make themselves helpful guests so the family could grieve and make preparations for the funeral. So as thrilling as it could have been, becoming Ron and Hermione happened at a bad time to assure a smooth transition. Unfortunately, there was no chapter in 12 Fail Safe Ways To Charm Witches about navigating a new relationship while mourning your dead brother.

He didn't feel charming at Fred's funeral, when he sobbed into Hermione's arms, dripping tears and Merlin knows what else into her hair. He had hardly spoken to her or touched her in days. When they managed to find some solitude in his attic bedroom, and he tried to get lost in kissing her, he often became overwhelmed with guilt. He didn't feel charming when he pushed her away, turning his back to her so she didn't see him crying mid-snog, because all he could think about was how his brother would never get to kiss a girl again. He avoided her every time he felt like he was going to cry, because Hermione would try to make him feel better with a hug, and she deserved someone who didn't respond to her touch with anger, grief, and tears. He couldn't avoid her seeing him cry at Fred's funeral, so he sobbed violently against her as she stroked his back, and tried to ignore the small voice in the back of his head that told him he was asking too much from her.

After the ceremony he sat on the dock by the pond, because he couldn't bother to hear anyone's condolences again. She found him there, and nestled up against him, dangling her feet into the water, and didn't say anything. Then he cried again, because she didn't say anything, and that was exactly what he needed.

He never returned to the house that night. He stayed on the dock, Hermione brought him a plate of food, and they ate in silence. The sun set, and she reached into her bag, and pulled out the bottle of firewhiskey that she'd smuggled from the alcohol cabinet in the living room.

He raised his eyebrows when she unscrewed the cap, and took a long sip. She winced as it went down, then handed the bottle to Ron, who did the same. They passed it back and forth wordlessly, until it was dark, and the world was blurry, and his eyes were tapped out of tears. Then he finally talked. Without inhibitions, he told her how guilty he had felt being with her that whole week. He said he'd give anything to go back to the day before Fred died, even though it was before Voldemort was killed, and before they had even kissed. He told her he wasn't sure if he'd ever truly feel happy or complete again. She cried with him, and he was grateful he had someone who was willing to share in his burden. She cast a cushioning charm on the dock, and pulled blankets out of her bag, and they settled into a comfortable embrace before Ron drifted off to sleep, thinking that if he was doomed to a life of unhappiness, at least it would be with Hermione.

He woke the next morning to the blinding sun, a raging headache, and Hermione in his arms. She was awake, and she smiled gently at him when he turned to her.

"Morning," she said softly.

"Morning," he grumbled back. He attempted a smile but it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Do you feel ill?" she asked.

Ron nodded.

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a small vial. "This might help."

He uncorked the vial and dumped the pepper up potion into his mouth. It helped immediately. He looked back at Hermione who grinned again, before lovingly tucking his hair behind his ear, the same way he did to her.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" He couldn't help himself asking the question, as he'd been ignoring her, shutting her out for days.

She looked momentarily hurt. "Because I'm your girlfriend," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Aren't I?"

He felt stinging tears and he tugged her close. "Of course you are." She hugged him back, the tears spilled from his eyes, and they felt like Ron and Hermione again. He allowed himself both to cry with her and kiss her, because maybe he could grieve and love at the same time.

No one came looking for them that morning, and for that Ron was thankful. Something about the closure of the funeral, and echo of the word Hermione had used to describe herself, girlfriend, made today feel like the start of a new chapter.

"When are we going to Australia? To find your parents?" he asked her, to be met with a smile and an embrace that he returned with genuine enthusiasm.

******

They took a portkey to Melbourne less than a fortnight later. As a token of thanks for all they'd done to end the war, and his promise of a pardon for any illegal magic performed defensively, Kingsley had arranged for a team of Australian Aurors to help locate her parents. They had done so rather quickly, as there weren't too many recent British expats practicing dentistry in Victoria. Nearly as soon as they arrived, they were given a folder containing the address of their home and dental practice. After renting a hotel room near their St. Kilda residence, the only thing left to do was reverse the memory spell. Ron assumed it would happen the next day, but it didn't.

He was surprised, yet somewhat pleased, at her suggestion to explore the city first. They'd never traveled together for fun so he wasn't going to turn down an opportunity to eat kangaroo burgers by the beach or take a romantic stroll through the botanic gardens. It was actually quite nice to practice acting like a couple in a different country, where no one knew who they were, what they've done, or that they weren't together just a few weeks ago. He could hold her hand, put his arm around her shoulders, or pull her in for a kiss on the pier without worrying about a wolf-whistle from a brother, or worse, a talk about safety from his dad. They spent an entire week ignoring their agenda, and Ron started to wonder if she was avoiding the task ahead. He knew she was when she suggested they ride the wooden death trap that muggles called roller coasters at Luna Park.

"What if, instead of that," said Ron, gesturing toward the roller coaster with his rapidly melting ice cream cone, "We go find your parents."

Hermione continued to stare straight ahead from their place on the bench. She shook her head.

"What's going on, Hermione."

"What do you mean?" she asked unconvincingly.

"The museums, the restaurants, the dates," he attempted in a casual tone, as he took another slurp of his ice cream. "I'm having a great time, don't get me wrong. But you know we'll eventually have to see them."

He looked over at her, but she was still staring blankly ahead, He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to react. To say something.

"We can't avoid it forever, you know."

After a few moments of tense silence, her breathing became shallower, her face deepened in color, and the ice cream cone fell from her hand and landed in a splat on the concrete between them.

"Hermione, are you ok?" asked Ron.

She shook her head as she lowered her face into her hands, as her breathing picked up it's pace. "No….," she exhaled, but couldn't get any more words out before she was overtaken by full bodied sobs.

"Hermione?" he said hurriedly. "What's wrong?"

He tried to reach an arm around her shoulders, but she shoved him away, the adrenaline providing much more force than necessary. She continued to sob and shudder, before placing her hands on her throat, remindnig Ron of a fish out of water.

"Hermione, you're worrying me. Please tell me what's going on."

Ron's words didn't seem to register with her. He looked around him to check if they had drawn the attention of anyone, but the deafening sounds of laughter, carnival music, and screams from the roller coaster muffled them from anyone who might have stepped in to help.

"C'mon Hermione, answer me," he said a little more forcefully, now feeling panicked. Logically he knew she would answer him if she could, and that thought made him want to hyperventilate too. "Just breath, Hermione! Please-"

Her sobs suddenly became raspier, and her body continued to heave as if trying unsuccessfully to pull in more air. Her face was turning redder every moment, and then without warning, she leaned forward and threw up on the concrete before them. Ron stared at her wide-eyed, as she gasped for air and returned back to her sobs, but this time they sounded deeper and more nourishing. He tentatively reached his hand to her again, and this time she didn't flinch when he pulled her closer, so her head rested on his shoulder, smearing tears, and sick, and Merlin knows what else onto his shirt, but he didn't care. He was just glad she seemed to be breathing.

They didn't talk about it. When she finally came around, she hurried off into the nearest public loo, and Ron waited there as his unfinished ice cream cone dripped down his hand. When she returned, there seemed to be a mutual understanding that it was time to return to their hotel. So they did.

When they arrived, Hermione, still looking embarrassed, immediately opted for a shower, and Ron thought it would be a good time to try ordering room service. After all, he was part of Hermione's life now, and if he couldn't protect her from whatever just happened at Luna Park, he should at least learn how to use a telephone.

******

A few days later, Hermione finally agreed to find her parents. Fittingly, it was raining on the day they knocked on her parent's front door. They gave each other a quick glance, and before the door opened, Hermione slipped her hand into his. He heard her take a deep breath before they saw the doorknob turn, and they were suddenly face to face with the greying features of Mr. Hugo Granger.

"Can I help you?"

They had planned this moment, but like many things in their recent experience, it didn't go as expected. They didn't plan for Hermione to freeze, caught up in the emotion of seeing her father for the first time since the war. Neither were prepared for the lack of recognition in his face.

"Hi Dad," said Hermione softly, as Ron grimaced at her giveaway.

"Excuse me?" said Hugo Granger in confusion. "Dad?" Before Hermione could backtrack, the tension was broken by a large golden retriever that came bounding up to Ron.

"Hey buddy!" said Ron, as he leaned down to scratch the dog's ears.

"Herman! No!" shoulder another voice. "Hugo grab him!" Jean Granger appeared behind her husband, reaching for the dog..

"Right," said Hugo, with a lingering look of confusion at Hermione before he turned his attention to the dog.

"Hermione, now," whispered Ron. She nodded, and while her parents were looking down, she withdrew her wand and aimed it right at them.

"I'm sorry, he's still a puppy and doesn't know how big-," Jean paused mid sentence, before slowly returning upright as Hermione's counter charm took effect.. "Hermione?"

"Mom," whispered Hermione.

The expression on Jean's face turned from affection, to confusion, to anger, before landing back on affection. She opened her arms, and Hermione collapsed into her embrace.

Ron looked at Hugo, who had also risen to his feet, but his eyes were focused on Ron, not on the two women embracing beside him. Ron was unsettled by the fact that he couldn't read his expression at all.

"Ron Weasley, if I remember correctly," he said curtly.

Ron nodded.

"I'm sure there's a very good explanation."

Even though it wasn't a question, Ron nodded again.

Hugo then broke their eye contact and turned toward his daughter, reaching his hand out to embrace her too.

Ron simply stood back with his hands in his pockets and observed the moment Hermione had been worrying about for the past few weeks. She was sobbing again, but this time it didn't concern Ron at all. He felt a cold, wet nose brush against his leg, and looked down to see Herman wagging his tail. For something to do with his hands, and because Herman was pretty cute, he crouched down to pet him.

"Also… Herman?" he heard Hermione ask once she had broken free of her parents' embrace. "Sounds a lot like Hermione."

"I guess our memories were just a little too strong. They pushed through," said Hugo stiffly.

"I'm so sorry," wavered Hermione. "Will you let me explain?"

"Of course, honey," said Jean, embracing her daughter again.

Ron, who was still busy petting Herman, suddenly felt Hugo Granger's eyes on him again. "The dog sure seems to like you."

Ron anxiously looked up, but was pleasantly surprised to see that Hugo was grinning at him. "Yeah, well," shrugged Ron. "I really like Herman."

Hugo chuckled. "How about a drink?"

"Oh, I'm fine," said Ron quickly, but a quick look from Hermione made him backtrack. "Er, actually, a drink sounds good."

Hugo was already pouring him one. "Well come on in. We've got a lot to catch up on."

An explanation was due soon, but the Grangers took that night to reconnect with their daughter. To Ron's pleasant surprise, he was welcomed into their home like he was family too.

He was even more surprised when he sat on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance from Hugo Granger's daughter, and she simply inched closer to him so that they were knee to knee. She smiled brightly at him, and gratefully patted his knee in a way that she never had when they were just friends, and he smiled back before taking a sip of the stiff drink that Hugo had poured for him.

It could have been that smile, or the fact that he was suddenly thinking of Hermione as Mr. Granger's daughter. Or it could have been Hugo's suspicious eyes and Jean's excited grin when he tentatively slipped his arm around her shoulders, but that day, he truly felt like Hermione's boyfriend, and he knew they would figure everything else out later.

#ROMIONE #hpromione #hp fanfic #hp ficlet #hp fandom #romione fanfic #ronweasley #ron weasley #Hermione Granger #ron x hermione #ron and hermione

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