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scribble-dribble-writes · 11 months

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Absolutely adored your last story!

If you don't mind, I'd like to request something too. What about Miguel's reaction to the reader telling him they are with child? 👀 Feel free to write this to your heart's content 🩷

Have a great day! x

I'm not usually a fan of writing pregnant scenes unless and until it is absolutely required. Given Miguel's backstory, it is definitely required haha. So hope I did your ask the due diligence.

Hope you like it 💖💖💖

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Magic

The digits in the clock changed with a click. It was past midnight and somehow, you couldn’t sleep. You laid still, soaking in the silence and taking comfort in the soft pale light that filtered into the room.

Arguably with what you learnt yesterday, your mind should have been a warzone but instead it was a question paper staring back at you, waiting for you to choose the right answer. You preferred the battle field. You sighed, the warm hand that rested on the peak of your hip trailed up higher making your skin feel smooth as if you were made of butter.

He pulled you closer to him, even in his sleep he craved for you presence. You had been warned about him, to not marry him and yet you heeded to no one’s advice. Instead, only choosing him when any struggle arose. He was always the answer, you couldn’t be without him and with how he nuzzled into your neck seeking comfort, you knew you held some value in his life too.

So if you were going to choose him again, you were having to say goodbye to a different chapter in your life.

“You're still awake aren’t you?”, he asked you, his voice raspy as he stirred from his sleep.

“How could you tell?”, you asked still laying as you were.

“Reading you has always been a part of my reflex.”, he mumbled with pride as he placed a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder.

You let out a quiet chuckle, now turning towards him to hide deeper into the panes of his chest. Skin on skin, there was no telling where his limbs intertwined with yours. The steady rhythm of his heart only made your throat drier.

“A charmer, even in the dead of night.”, you traced your finger over his collarbone to tuck your hand beneath his arm in the end.

“My spells won’t work on anyone else.”, he spoke with his eyes closed, still caught in the in between.

You didn’t intend to wake him, he was tired as is and now you were keeping him up. It stung you, the one thought that had been on your mind since yesterday. You were failing, in being a wife and now, as a mother.

“Because you’re the magic.”, his words dripped like candle wax, beautiful and yet it burned your heart.

“Only you think so.”, you closed your eyes, hoping to fall asleep as his hand rubbed your back, the soft gesture easing you to relax.

“Puedo preguntarte algo?”, his words had a little slur to them as you hummed in response.

“Why did you hide you were sick this morning?”, the calm in his voice made your eyes pop open as you drew in a sharp breath, now with him holding you so close, he could read you like a book.

“There was nothing to hide, Miguel.”, you were digging a deeper hole.

“It wasn’t all too concerning to trouble you.”, you were now wide awake.

“Mi cielo.”, he murmured.

“Come to me with all your troubles, por favor.”, even as he spoke you could tell this had weighed him down.

You were still thinking it through when he prompted you again, “So?”, he was lulling you to give up the truth.

“Why did you then sneak off to the doctor’s?”, now he was awake too. There was a certain bite to his words, crisp with tension and worry.

You didn’t need to see his eyes to tell that he was afraid, you could feel it in the way his muscles stiffened. The thought propped up again. That you were failing, at being his lover and his wife by keeping things from him.

But was your guilt and fear more important than his feelings?

To have put him through the worry of fearing he was going to lose you too.

He was always the answer, he would give up everything for you if you asked and you would do the same. Selfless for eachother that it often put you in a spot to make decisions for him.

But what would he say?

Did you want to put him through the pain of his past by placing a child in his hands?

“Because,”, you looked up at him, to note his gaze was already on you, hooked on your every word.

“I’m carrying your child.”, you let the words slip from your tongue, like you were letting go out the helm of your ship towards what could be the point of it’s destruction.

You were sure, that having lost his daughter once, he wouldn’t want to put himself through that heartbreak again. You watched as he tensed up again, to slowly rise up to rest his back against the head board.

“Oh.”, he said, but you couldn’t tell from his sober tone.

“So nothing life threatening.”, he reached out to caress your cheek.

“No.”, you drew yourself close to him. Ironic, that many believed you lit up his world but he was the fire to your winter. You only found respite in his arms.

“When did you come to know?”, he rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Yesterday.”, you told him, to which he hummed taking in the information.

But his eyes slid to yours, “Why didn’t you tell me?”, the way his eyes looked pale in the dim light, you not confiding in him had hurt him.

“Miguel, you know the life I come from.”, you turned serious, that somehow in his presence you couldn’t continue to lie anymore.

“What if I’m not a good mother? What if instead of building this family, I wreck it instead?”, you asked, your blood turning cold with images of this fear manifesting in your mind.

“And it would result in you being heart broken, over the child you lost.”, you slumped into the cover like a little pebble, giving in to the pull of your panic.

“I love that you think of me always, mi ángel.”, he reached for your waist to pull you up over his torso such that you could meet his eyes.

“But in this circumstance, you’re wrong.”, his index finger smoothed the wrinkles on your forehead as you fought back tears.

“I can see it in your eyes, you will be an excellent mother. Your love is endless and patient, you made me believe in all this again.”, he gestured to the setting around you.

“So don’t let your fears destroy you.”, he wiped the tear as it landed on your cheek.

“As for me.”, he paused, his eyes turning distant for a second.

“As much as I loved Gabriella as my own,”, he ran his fingers through your long hair.

“She wasn’t.”, he pursed his lips.

“This variant of mine had everything I could only dream off. Replacing him meant I only enjoyed a life that was a lie.”, he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Which hurt more when I lost it.”, you could see the sadness in his eyes.

“Nothing was real from the beginning.”, he gave you a lopsided frown, which broke your heart as you felt his pain as your own.

“Almost as close to a figment of my imagination.”, he inhaled deeply to sigh.

“But you.”, the sadness vanished and in it’s place happiness restored his features.

“Our home.”, he looked up at the ceiling.

“It’s all real.”, he smiled, his eyes slowly trailing back to you.

“So no, this wouldn’t hurt me.”, he nudged your nose with his as though this was all you had to remember, to never forget that he was sure of this.

“I’ve wanted this, I want this next chapter for us. It's time.”, he confided in you as he closed his eyes to pull you closer, to rest your forehead on his and when you did, the question paper in you mind vanished. It didn’t have the answer you wanted to choose, because in this second you had both chosen to choose eachother.

“You surprise me in the best ways.”, you told him as you reached up to take his other hand.

Holding onto his fingers, you guided his hand over to place it over your womb and when he opened his eyes, there was a new passion in it. A new fervent resolution that what he had now, he would protect with his life, that his entire life was right here in the confines of his arms.

With that burning desire, he caught your lips with his. It was a sleepy kiss that was my no means perfect as the ones in the morning were but it was surely more important. You and him weren't going to be the only ones in this house anymore.

“Like I said.”, he spoke over your lips.

“You are magic.”, he said as he trailed his fingers over your lower abdomen.

So you kissed him again, softly, your hands scaling the incline of his back to hold his neck.

But he pulled away to catch his breath.

“Vamos, mami. You need to have a good sleep.”, he placed you into the side of your bed with a sudden air of discipline, as he had remembered what time it was.

“I’ll make you fresh lemonade in the morning to combat the sickness and also –

“You need your sleep too, papi.”, you cut him off before he began to panic and pulled his hand over your waist as he chuckled to settle into your covers.

“Bien, bien.”, he calmed down settling into the same lazy rhythm with his hand slung over you that finally made sleep arrive sooner than what you both had expected.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099

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greenwitchcrafts · 30 days

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April 2024 witch guide

Full moon: April 23rd

New moon: April 8th

Solar eclipse: April 8th

Sabbats: None

April Pink Moon

Known as: Breaking Ice Moon, Budding Moon of Plants & shrubs, Budding Tree Moon, Eastermonath, Frog Moon, Green Grass Moon, Growing Moon, Hare Moon, Moon of the Red Grass appearing, Moon When Geese Lay Egss, Moon When thd Ducks Come Back, Ostarmanoth, Planters Moon, Seed Moon, Sucker Moon & Wind Moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Aries & Taurus

Nature spirits: Plant Faeries

Deities: Anahita, Bast, Ceres, Cernunnos, Hathor, Herne, Ishtar, Kali, Tawaret & Venus

Animals: Bear & wolf

Birds: Hawk & magpie

Trees: Bay, forsythia, hazel, lilac, pine & willow

Herbs: Basil, chives, dandelion, dill, dogwood, dragon's blood, fennel, geranium, milkweed & thistle

Flowers: Daisy & sweetpea

Scents: Bay, bergamot, patchouli & pine

Stones: Angelite, beryl, diamond, garnet, malachite, quartz, ruby, sapphire, sard, selenite & zircon

Colors: Blue, brown, crimson, gold & green

Energy: Authority, balance, beginnings, change, fertility, growth, leadership, opportunities, overcoming obstacles, personal skill development, re-birth, self-evaluation, self-reliance, spirituality, temper control & willpower

April’s full Moon often corresponded with the early springtime blooms of a certain wildflower native to eastern North America: Phlox subulata—commonly called creeping phlox or moss phlox—which also went by the name “moss pink.” Thanks to this seasonal association, this full Moon came to be called the “Pink” Moon.

Other celebrations:

• Walpurgis Night - April 30th

Also known as: May Eve

The origins of the holiday date back to pagan celebrations of fertility rites & the coming of spring. After the Norse were Christianized, the pagan celebration became combined with the legend of St. Walburga, an English-born nun who lived at Heidenheim monastery in Germany & later became the abbess there. Saint Walpurga was hailed by the Christians of Germany for battling "pest, rabies, & whooping cough as well as against witchcraft". Christians prayed to God through the intercession of Saint Walpurga in order to protect themselves from witchcraft, as Saint Walpurga was successful in converting the local populace to Christianity. Although it is likely that the date of her canonization is purely coincidental to the date of the pagan celebrations of spring, people were able to celebrate both events under church law without fear of reprisal.

Walpurgis Night is still a traditional holiday celebrated on April 30th in northern Europe & Scandinavia. In Sweden typical holiday activities include the singing of traditional spring folk songs & the lighting of bonfires. In Germany the holiday is celebrated by dressing in costumes, playing pranks on people & creating loud noises meant to keep evil at bay. Many people also hang blessed sprigs of foliage from houses & barns to ward off evil spirits, or they leave pieces of bread spread with butter & honey, called ankenschnitt, as offerings for phantom hounds.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

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hjparisian · 5 months

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always yours-harry j potter x reader

p: harry j potter x fem! reader w: TW !!! toxic relationship, abuse, fluff ending, cussing, not proof read summary: harry and (y/n) come across each other a bit after the war and reconnect. a/n: another request from a lovely follower! so sorry this is so late. i haven't had motivation to write and couldn't figure out what to even write. if any of you guys are in an abusive relationship, please try to reach out to someone! i know it's better said than done but you all deserve the best.

The light breeze felt perfect to (Y/N). It was her day off of work from the Ministry today, so (Y/N) decided to use this day for herself to relax. Merlin knows that her work and her boyfriend has her feeling drained.

(Y/N) had just exited Flourish and Blotts, nose in one of the new books she bought. Her focus was disrupted when she bumped into a large figure, making her drop her book.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, I should've been looking where I was going," (Y/N) said to the person as she went to pick up her book but someone else grabbed it first.

"Oh it's alright, no worries," a familiar voice said to her.

(Y/N) looked up to the person handing her her book back.

"Wait, H-Harry?"

"(Y/N)?"

The girl was in shock. In front of her was her old friend and former crush, Harry Potter. The last time they've seen each other was at the Battle of Hogwarts. Though she had returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year, Harry did not.

"What are you doing here?" (Y/N) asked the man.

"I was just grabbing some stuff for school."

"School?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."

"That's amazing Harry!" (Y/N) said to him. "I mean you were the best at the class. Plus you were such an amazing teacher when you taught Dumbledore's Army so it doesn't surprise me."

"Thanks, (Y/N). And what are you doing?"

"Oh, I just came from Flourish and Blotts. It's my day off from the Ministry and I was looking for new books."

"Well," Harry says. "What else do you have planned for today?"

"Honestly, nothing else."

"Do you want to come over to my place?" Harry asked her. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. I was just hoping we could catch up maybe?"

"I would love to," (Y/N) said without a second thought.

Harry and (Y/N) exited the Leaky Cauldron and apparated to Harry's place. It was an apartment not too far from London. Harry unlocked the door and let (Y/N) enter.

It was a rather simple but clean apartment. There were a couple photos on the walls from Harry's years at Hogwarts. One that caught (Y/N)'s eye was a picture of Dumbledore's Army during their fifth year. Harry was in the middle of the photo and (Y/N) somehow had a spot right next to Harry.

"Bring back memories, huh?" Harry said as he stood behind her.

"Yeah. I still remember the first meeting." (Y/N) said. "I wanted to punch Zacharias in the face."

Harry laughed at your comment. "Me too, but he did come around."

Harry guided (Y/N) to the couch in his living room.

"Did you want anything to drink?" Harry asked her. "I got water, butterbeer, firewhiskey."

"Some butterbeer please."

Harry left to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of butter beer, handing one to (Y/N).

"So, how are Hermione and Ron?"

"They're good. They got engaged recently."

"Really?" (Y/N) said in awe. "That's wonderful! I remember talking with Hermione about Ron back in sixth year. Finally got her to admit her feelings for him."

Harry nodded his head, grinning at the memories. "They were both too stubborn to realize it."

(Y/N) nodded before taking a sip of the butterbeer. "What about you Harry? You were with Ginny last I heard."

"I was but not anymore." (Y/N) had a shocked look on her face. "We broke up a while back."

"Really? And Ron hasn't killed you?" (Y/N) asked.

Harry chuckled a bit. "It was actually Ginny who ended it. It was mutual so no bad blood between us."

"That's good then."

A question had been burning on the back of Harry's mind. Thankfully, they were on the topic of it.

"What about you? Are you with anyone?"

(Y/N) set down the bottle she was holding before she answered. "I am actually."

Harry felt his heart drop a bit. "Who is it?"

(Y/N) started messing with the hem of her top, feeling a bit nervous. "Do you remember Cormac McLaggen? He tried out for keeper our sixth year."

For some reason, Harry felt his heart crumble a bit. That bloke Cormac is with (Y/N)? Those two couldn't be anymore different. How could that troll earn her love?

"Harry?"

(Y/N)'s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Are you alright Harry? You were zoning out a bit," (Y/N) pointed out.

"Oh, yeah I'm fine. I remember him, bit of a jerk from what I remember in sixth year." Harry said. "Is Cormac good to you?"

(Y/N) avoided eye contact and kept messing with her shirt. "Oh yeah. I mean we have a few arguments here and there, but he means well. Do you mind bringing another bottle of butterbeer please?"

Harry nodded before getting up to the kitchen again. He didn't necessarily believe (Y/N), but he wasn't going to prod on their relationship.

The two had been enjoying reconnecting. Harry told (Y/N) stories from his first year teaching at Hogwarts, one including how a third year girl sent him a singing card on Valentine's Day. (Y/N) also told Harry about her job at the Ministry and how her coworker spilt coffee on Kingsley Shacklebolt's robes.

(Y/N) looked at the clock on the nearby wall to see that it was a quarter past twelve am. She couldn't believe that she's been talking to Harry for this long. She had to get home.

"Hey Harry, I have to get going," (Y/N) told the man sitting next to her.

Harry looked at the clock to also see how late it was. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize the time."

"It's quite alright Harry, I had a wonderful time with you anyways."

"Will you be apparating home?" Harry asks her. "Don't want you to head home by yourself if you aren't."

"Yes, I am. You don't need to worry," she said to him. "Besides, I know a few spells thanks to a certain Gryffindor."

Harry smiled a bit, knowing she was referring to him.

"I'll see you later Harry," (Y/N) said while handing him a paper.

The girl disapperated, returning to her home.

Harry unfolded the paper, which revealed some numbers. It was (Y/N)'s phone number. Right under it, she left a small message.

Call me! :)

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up to hearing noises coming from the kitchen. She put on a sweater and walked out to find her boyfriend Cormac cooking.

"Good morning," he said to her.

"Morning," she said.

"Thought I'd make us breakfast before you go to work," said Cormac. "Also where were you last night? You got home pretty late."

"I was catching up with an old friend."

Cormac hummed before asking her the dreaded question. "Who?"

"Oh it's no one special," she nervously said.

Cormac raised an eyebrow at her before asking again. "Who were you with, (Y/N)?"

(Y/N) cleared her throat before speaking. "Harry."

"Potter?"

"Yeah him."

(Y/N) looked at her boyfriend, seeing a look of resentment in his eyes.

"I never really liked that bloke." Cormac said while handing (Y/N) her plate. "Gave the keeper spot to Weasley just because that's his best friend."

(Y/N) just nodded, not wanting to say anything to make Cormac upset.

The two ate until (Y/N) had to go to work. While heading to work, (Y/N) felt her phone buzz. She saw it was a number she didn't recognize, but the back of her mind was hoping it was a certain boy.

(Y/N) took chance and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello?" A familiar voice said. "Is this (Y/N)?"

(Y/N) laughed a bit before responding. "Yes it is."

"Oh good. It's Harry."

"I know," (Y/N) said, smiling. "I recognized your voice."

"Ah yeah," Harry said. "How are you?"

"Good. Just heading to work."

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I can call later."

(Y/N) felt herself smiling more.

"No it's alright! I have time. Besides, it makes the travel to work less lonely."

And so began a new routine of Harry calling her on her way to work. Which then went into them calling each other after work. On nights Cormac was away, Harry and (Y/N) would call each other.

Harry and (Y/N) began seeing each other more in person too. He'd join her on trips to Diagon Alley for more books or to grab a bite after a long day of work.

This change did not go by unnoticed by Cormac, though. He noticed how distracted she became, how she smiled at her phone more, how she left for work earlier and came back later, how she'd go out more.

The boy had enough.

One day, when (Y/N) had returned from work late, Cormac was sitting in her living room, waiting for her arrival.

"Oh! Didn't know you were here Cormac, I thought you wouldn't get home 'til later," the girl said upon noticing her boyfriend on her couch.

"Where were you?" The boy asked her.

Cormac had gotten up and walked towards her, glaring at her.

(Y/N) had begun to feel a bit nervous, knowing Cormac wouldn't like the reason she had returned late.

"I-I was at work," (Y/N) stammered out.

"What about after work?" Cormac questioned her. "Where did you go?"

"Just went to grab a bite."

Cormac began pestering her. "With who? You had to have been with someone if you've taken this long."

(Y/N) felt herself starting to shake. She had never enjoyed when Cormac began to act like this, knowing he was getting angry and a bit emotional.

"I was just out with a friend," she meekly said.

"I wanna know who you were with (Y/N)."

"It was just a friend, Cormac."

"Don't bullshit me. Was it with Potter?"

(Y/N)'s hesitation was all Cormac needed to get his answer.

"It was with Potter, wasn't it."

(Y/N) couldn't lie to him, knowing he figured her out. She nodded.

"Yes, but he's just a friend."

Cormac laughed at her. "Oh really, (Y/N)? Doesn't look like it to me. All those days you came home late, were on the phone for hours. Probably all with fucking Potter. Wouldn't be surprised if you went and shagged him."

--TW description of physical abuse--

"Cormac, I didn't shag him! We were just reconnecting, that's all. Please let's just tal-"

A loud smack echoed through the room.

Cormac had hit her.

"Shut up you bitch!"

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s face. Cormac took noticed of this and began laughing at her.

"You're crying?" The boy shoved her against the wall. "What if I give you something to actually cry about?"

"Cormac, stop!" (Y/N) sobbed.

He let go of her and let her drop to the ground. (Y/N) had begun sobbing loudly, hyperventilating.

"Get out (Y/N)! Go to your fucking boyfriend Potter for all I care." Cormac screamed at her.

--TW end--

(Y/N) had pushed herself up and got out the door before Cormac slammed it behind her. She decided to use her strength to apparate to the only person that could help her.

She knocked on the door and waited a second before it opened to reveal her former schoolmate.

Harry stared at her before bringing her inside and embracing her. She flinched, but began melting into his embrace after telling herself that it's just Harry.

"I just need to know," Harry began. "Did Cormac do this to you?"

(Y/N) just nodded, not wanting to speak.

Harry felt himself become angry. How could Cormac do this to her? She was an angel, unlike that asshole. He never deserved her. But did Harry himself deserved (Y/N)? He couldn't protect her, keep her safe. This could've been avoided if Harry was with (Y/N).

He couldn't think about that now when (Y/N) was in his arms needing care. He brought the girl to his bathroom, doing his best to try and tend the bruises that littered her skin. Harry drew a bath and brought a change of clothes for (Y/N).

"I'll be right outside, I promise." He told her. "I'll have to finish checking your bruises when your done."

Once (Y/N) decided to get out of the bath half an hour later, Harry made sure he didn't miss any other injuries before bringing her to his bed. He was just going to let her rest until a hand grabs his.

"Don't leave. Please."

Harry would always listen to (Y/N).

The boy stayed with her until sleep finally took over. As much as Harry wanted to stay with her, he had business to take care of.

Thankfully, he remembered where (Y/N) lived after dropping her off multiple times so he apparated in the night to her door. He banged on the door hard until it opened, revealing his new worst enemy.

"What do you want Potter? (Y/N) isn't here."

"Oh I know." Harry told Cormac. "Just came for a chat."

Harry stepped forward in an attempt to enter the house until Cormac stopped him.

"I'm busy right now."

"Well I guess I can try to make this quick," Harry said.

A punch was thrown at the older wizard, catching him off guard. Harry grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed them into the apartment, shoving him up against the nearest wall.

"I know what you did to (Y/N), McLaggen. How dare you hurt her!" Harry screamed at him.

"I didn't do such thing." Another punch was thrown.

"Don't you dare lie to me! I know you did it. You hurt her! You never deserved her."

"Oh but you think you do?" Cormac scoffed at Harry, while trying to push him off.

"I would've treated her way better than you ever have."

"You want a slut like her? You're pathetic Potter."

Those words had enraged Harry more than ever. The two continued fighting, Harry having the upper hand. One more punch landed on Cormac before he fell to the floor.

"You better stay away from (Y/N). If I hear that you stepped one foot near her I won't hesitate to punch you again," Harry spat at him before making his leave back to his home.

Harry headed for his room, wanting to make sure that the girl he loves was still there. Fortunately, she was, but she was awake.

"Where did you go Harry? I was getting worried."

"I just went to take care of something," he said, trying to reassure her.

"What do you need to take care of at this time?" (Y/N) said while walking toward him.

A small gasp slipped her month before her hand made contact with his cheek. Harry would be lying if he said it didn't feel nice.

"You're hurt Harry!" (Y/N) exclaimed before dragging him to his bathroom.

"(Y/N) love, I'm fine." He kind of wasn't. Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw the marks Cormac apparently left him. He was too focused on getting vengeance for (Y/N) that he ignored it.

(Y/N) began cleaning his face. "Harry, you have dried blood on your face. I don't think that's considered fine. What were you doing?"

"If I tell you, you have to promise you won't be upset," Harry said to her.

"What?" (Y/N) paused, confused.

"Just promise me."

"Fine. I promise I won't get upset."

"Alright, well," Harry began. The adrenaline was gone and he began feeling nervous. "I went to visit Cormac at your guys apartment."

"You went to see Cormac?" (Y/N) squeaked. "Why would you do that Harry?"

"I couldn't stand what he did to you (Y/N). He hurt you. You didn't deserve what he did. I had to teach him a lesson."

"So you went to beat each other up?"

"Well, him more so than me," Harry joked.

"Why? Why would you beat him up for me?"

"Because (Y/N). I love you."

(Y/N)'s eyes widen in shock. "W-what?"

"I love you. And I think I always have. Seeing you brought back those feelings I've had back when we were at Hogwarts. I would do anything to protect you (Y/N)."

"Oh Harry," tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes.

Harry noticed and got a little bit worried. "It's alright if you don't feel the same way. I know you just had to deal with Cormac so-"

Arms wrapped around him and lips met his. Harry froze for a second before melting into it, gently placing his hands on her waist.

(Y/N) was the first to break the kiss, to respond to Harry's declaration of love to her.

"I love you too, Harry."

(Y/N) finished cleaning up Harry before heading back to his bed. His arms wrapped around her, keeping her warm and safe.

"I promise to protect you no matter what," Harry said to her. "I would do anything for you."

"And I will do the same for you, because you're mine."

"And I will always be yours."

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter x reader #hjp x reader #hjp #hp fanfic #hp imagine #harry potter x fem!reader #harry

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 6 months

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 7

Velkommen Til Tønsberg | Loki x Reader

Loki and Thor take you to see the new King of Asgard in the hopes of finding more answers. Charmed by the quaint village and welcoming Asgardians you dream of a better future there. But not everyone is friendly and they're certainly not safe.

Warnings: mostly fluffy...mind the ending. Family drama, talk of forced marriage/marriage of convenience and Reader's family. Implied sexual content, implied loss of virginity.

A/N: From here on in there's going to be talk of other panethons,specifically from Irish mythology, so I'll put a little info at the bottom of the chapter if you're interested! Other mythologies will be depicted in the same way Loki & the Asgardians are in Marvel and the MCU. This is very much a fictionalised account, although there are, like in the MCU, elements of the original stories. You don't have to read about them, but I've tried hard to embed a lot of mythology into the story so although it's easily readable without it, I think it's more fun if you know!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

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“So you met a woman who can set fire to stuff, makes everyone around her horny and you’ve let him,” the woman pointed at Loki, “teach her to shift and mind read?” She walked around the coffee table in the middle of the cosy living room, keeping her eyes trained on your face as if you might drag the crackling fire out of the hearth and set fire to her sofa.

“Yes - But, in my defence, she could already do a lot of it and it wasn’t my idea.” Thor gave her a massive grin, taking a butter cookie from the plate in front of him while she flopped onto the chair opposite you.

“I’m -” you paused, unsure of what to call yourself. No one had really addressed you since you arrived at the compound, should you use the name you’d discovered with Loki? When you’d dreamed of Asgard together? Or should you use your old name, the one your Grandfather gave you?

“This is Estrid.” Loki took the decision out of your hands, and you were grateful for it, leaning into his side a little for reassurance while he patted your knee.

She took your hand in both of hers and gave them a firm squeeze, her palms were soft, but there were calluses below her fingers that told you there was more to her than the oversized jumper, piles of books and well stocked bar cart could tell you.

“I’m Brunnhilde,” Brunnhilde gave you a warm smile, far more comforting than you’d expected when Thor had described the warrior on your journey to Tønsberg. He’d described the fights they’d engaged in together, her bravery during Ragnarok and her ability to lead as a fair and firm King for the new Asgardian settlement. He talked about her armour and weapons, whirling his hands around as he acted out his favourite moments from the final battle. Loki had rolled his eyes and told you that she was a skilled and proficient fighter and a sensible leader, despite Thor’s terrible caricature.

The woman before you looked softer than their stories, she was wearing an oversized knitted sweater that hung down to her thighs over tight black jeans, her hair was styled in long braids that fell over her shoulders and she fiddled with the end of one as she continued to watch you.

“Valkyrie,” Thor insisted through a mouthful of biscuit. But Brunnhilde, just rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and gave you a knowing smile, as if the antics of gods were commonplace in her life.

“You can call me Brunnhilde or Valkyrie, Val, if you like,” she had an easy manner of speaking, relaxed and welcoming, in keeping with the homey warmth of her cottage and she pushed the plate of food towards you. “Do you want to tell me about these dreams?”

The hesitancy you felt on arriving in the little fishing village began to melt away. Initially you’d been overwhelmed by the crisp, salt scent of the sea and the shock of the cold. But here, in the stone house nestled in the centre of the village, you felt at ease and allowed yourself to relax into the cushions. The atmosphere that had been so shockingly different on arrival was now settling inside of you, the clean smell sea smell of the harbour mixing with the woodsmoke in the village was familiar somehow.

You’d arrived in the dead of night while the village was asleep, tucked into the hillside with only a few lights along the dock still bright. The sea had called to you then, a wild thing that beat against the boats and rattled the stones of the shoreline until you were on the edge of the dock, leaning over into the abyss of darkness.

Loki had pulled you away and wrapped your frozen hands in his own while Thor had looked on, a knowing smile spreading across his face. But you allowed Loki to pull you close, snaking your arms around his waist and tucking yourself half inside his black wool coat. He rubbed his hands up and down your back to warm you, the press of his fingers turning into the weight of your own coat as Loki’s magic flickered over you.

You’d stood together for what felt like forever and yet not enough time at all, bathing in the darkness and the rhythmic sound of the sea as it crested and crashed on the harbour wall.

Thor was intrigued by Loki’s behaviour, he’d never seen him act in such a controlled and measured way, nor had he seen him spend more than a few days with any consort since their adolescent years in Asgard.

He was starting to think this was some sort of elaborate courtship that his brother had thought up, for once he decided he would forgo the teasing, happy to see his brother with a partner he actually approved of, and had left you in the cold air, wrapped together under Loki’s coat.

Your mind had wandered, rubbing your thumb over Loki’s cool palm, and felt his own relaxed thoughts wash over you, your cheek touched his shoulder and he lifted his arm to tuck you into his side, the movement unconsciously casual and comforting.

“Are you okay, Estrid?” The Valkyrie’s voice called to you through the memory and you sat upright again with a start. “I think I do remember you - hmm,” she paused and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re Brigid’s daughter? Right? I remember your mother, I was assigned to her guard a few times when she visited Queen Frigga.”

Her words raised goosebumps on your skin, a mother? Without thinking you grabbed at Val’s hands, pulling her to the edge of her own seat so that you could study her face, waiting for her to reveal a lie or a joke. “Show me, can I see? Please,” you begged, eyes filling with tears.

Brunnhilde flicked her dark eyes at Thor, hesitating, she had been King of the Asgardians for only a short time and although Thor was more like a brother to her now, she didn’t want to upset either Prince by revealing too many of Asgard’s secrets.

You hadn’t noticed her hesitation, your only thoughts on seeing your forgotten mother again. “I don’t remember my mother at all. What was she like?” You asked, looking around the room to see if any of them would be willing to share.

Loki, surprisingly, looked at Thor as well, a silent conversation passing between the two brothers before Thor answered.

“I don’t see the harm, after all we brought her here to learn, if this is what she requires then she should hear it.” He said, already a little bored and messing with the trinkets on the shelf beside him, hadn’t he differed his responsibilities to Valkyrie for this exact reason?

Brunnhilde leant forward and, with some encouragement from Loki, you met her halfway, your fingers hovering over her temples. “I promise I’ll just look at my mother. Just think about her a lot, when you worked for her, what you saw.”

Loki’s hand found your knee and squeezed, “Remember, Asynja, calm." You concentrated on his breathing, on his scent, on the feel of his trousers below your own hand and closed your eyes.

She appeared out of the gloom, a tall woman with fiery red hair in a mass of curls flowing down her back. Her clothes reminded you of your dreams, airy and bright. She had a gold crown on her head adorned with gemstone flowers, tulips, daffodils and snowdrops mixed with clover and daisies. On her back a sage green Cape trailed behind her and from one corner peaked a little face.

“My baby, you stay in there, safe and sound,” her voice was like warm salted caramel, sweet, burning with love and measured by her strength. A fierceness behind it that would surely scald anyone coming too close. Behind her strode the Valkyrie in their armour, as they marched through the corridors of Asgard to Frigga’s chambers.

Once inside the luxurious chambers, a little face peaked out again.

“Mother?”

“It is safe, Estrid. You may come out. This is my friend, Queen Frigga. You are to stay with her a while.” The other woman held out her hand, her fingers adorned with all manner of shining gems and opaque turquoise, her hair flowed from a golden diadem, but she was dressed casually in a sky blue dress, draped around her shoulders and elbows. A Queen, yes, but a mother also.

“Estrid, you very welcome here in Asgard. May I present my son, Loki. He has similar talents. Perhaps he could show you the palace.” A shaggy head of black hair peered around Frigga’s legs. “I have another son, Thor, but my dear Brigid tells me that you love to read and walk, rather than fight and wrestle,” she paused, tugging Loki forward, and bent between you both, “my darling Loki can show you his library, he will be sure to share.” She gave Loki a little nudge forward and dipped her chin at him.

With practised steps he moved towards the little girl, “Princess” he bowed, formally, looking back up at his mother for approval. Frigga patted the boy on the shoulder and he hid behind her skirts again.

“Prince," you gave a shy curtsy, holding the folds of your elaborate dress as you moved, your memories drifted towards him and away from your parents. Your juvenile conversations floating through lazy mornings within his library, giggling together while you spied on the court from the gallery. The clothes that Loki had created for you with a glimmer of magic so that you could climb the same trees and tumble down the same hills, splashing together in the fountains of the gardens until his governess chased you back into the palace.

Your small hands clasped together as he walked you through the halls of Asgard, the sheen of sweat on his brow when you ran together through the gardens, hazy and warm and glittering with gold it morphed into a lazy dream, full of clouds and the endless sky and…

The dream faded and Val pulled away.

“You’re distracted.” She looked at Loki and narrowed her eyes. “Loki was very important to you back then, and I see that he still is," she gave Loki a sly smile, “but he’s distracting you. Bugger off and annoy someone else please." She waved the two princes away.

Loki kissed your hand and stood to walk out with Thor. He had the same shy, boyish smile that you'd seen in your memory. The one that had made you feel welcome and at peace. He lingered, unsure about whether he could push his affection further than a kiss on the cheek. You hadn’t discussed your evening together, but he longed to keep you in his arms. Meeting his eyes you allowed your mind to wander to his and he bent over you on the sofa, his hands either side of your head, and lowered his face to yours. Brushing his nose against your cheek he kissed you softly.

“I’ll come for you? I can show you the people." He suggested, “I’ll meet you at the harbour when you’re finished.”

“They’re my people now, don’t forget!” Brunnhilde called after him.

“How could I!” He bowed low, “my Queen." His tone was filled with sarcasm as well as mirth. With a final wink Thor pulled him out of the door.

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes and then turned her attention back to the tea tray, pouring a cup for you both. She settled back into her chair and tucked her feet up under her.

“Brigid was a wonderful Goddess, a Queen herself really, but here on Midgard,” Val took a deep breath and sighed it out, “she made the flames dance, brought the spring and the flowers, and protected the land during winter. She took care with all her subjects and friends, her matchmaking skills, in particular, were something to behold. She helped Frigga and Odin in their early courtship and had many friends across the nine realms and the Otherworld.” Brunnhilde stopped to look at you, your wide eyes glistening as you listened. “Is this bringing any memories back?” She dunked a biscuit into her tea and watched you as she ate.

“Yes, a little.” A tear started to fall slowly down your cheek, pooling on your lip, a bittersweet taste of a grief and longing you still couldn't truly comprehend, couldn’t even remember. “She had a cloak,” you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I always felt so safe in there.”

“That’s because it was safe, it created a protection around those who wore it, or who were under it. She used it to protect the land during winter, but when she had to hide you it worked for you too.”

“Did she hide me here? Is that why I don’t remember?”

“Oh no, she used to hide you on Asgard, mostly, but you visited other realms too.”

“So is she still hiding in it? Is that why we’re not together?”

Brunnhilde reached out and patted your arm, “no, she’s not hiding in it. I’m sorry to tell you, she died, and she took all of her magic and secrets with her. The cloak was never Asgardian to begin with, so we couldn't have looked for it, though Frigga tried. It's been lost for a long time, but I'd bet if it's anywhere, it's here on Midgard, waiting for you."

You nodded, contemplating the possibility that it may be out there and, if it was, it was yours now. A Goddess’ cloak.

Just the thought of it made you feel dizzy. You sipped your tea, allowing the warmth of it to spread through you before you built the courage to ask your next question.

“How did she die?” The question squeaked out of you, barely a whisper, and you found yourself curling into the cushions of the sofa as you spoke.

“I wish I knew." Brunnhilde looked sincere and you could feel the sorrow radiating from her as her eyes misted, "she brought you back to Asgard many times, sometimes she would stay and you would holiday around the city, sometimes she would leave you under the Queen’s care. The last time you visited you were just of age, celebrating your birthday and looking forward to your ascension. She left to speak to a potential suitor in Vanaheim, your mother and Frigga had many friends there, and together they sought someone who could match your spirit, but provide you protection, a good match."

"A good match?"

"I know it's a lot to take in, but you were, are, a very important child not just to your mother, but to us all. Children are rare in the Nine Realms, especially among the Aesir, skilled children are rarer."

"Skilled?"

"Your magic. When you first came to Asgard you were wild and untamed. Frigga helped you to channel your energy and taught you alongside her own sons. I believe Loki is helping you again now, but there was a time you trained together. And that kind of magic, in the hands of the wrong realm, the wrong husband. It could've been catastrophic."

"Husband, why would I have to have a husband?!" You were incensed, "why couldn't I just train and be by myself."

"It was a difficult time for the Nine Realms, for us all, a time of change. But you were as angry then as you are now, I’m pleased to see you haven’t lost any of your fire.” Angry as you were, you could see that Brunnhilde was telling the truth, and there was no teasing or malice in the way she looked at you.

The King sat her cup down an came to sit beside you, bringing your hand up to the side of her face, she opened her memories again.

You were sat in Frigga’s private chambers, a fire glowing in the grate, wine, fruit and bread on the table. Frigga held you close, patting your hair and singing a soft lullaby.

“My dear, you are still so young to lose a mother and we will always be here for you. But you must listen to the wishes of your court, and of your King at least consider his plans. A chaperone and entourage are being sent to take you home.”

“I won’t go with them, I barely know him. Why won’t Odin let me stay?” You sobbed.

“He will not overrule your father. There will be a ball for you, and then your Father will come and collect you. I imagine you will be introduced to your betrothed and then your ascension will begin, you will be crowned and named to solidify your position."

Brunnhilde pulled away, she was unsure of how the evening played out any further, you had fled the room and not returned. Frigga had asked her to look for you when your maids said you were not in your bed. The Valkyrie had assumed you remained in the castle, but to no avail. To Brunnhilde’s knowledge you had hidden yourself all night, returning in the morning in sodden clothes, covered in soil and grass, and had assumed you’d spent the night in the gardens, perhaps sleeping in one of the follies scattered around the hedges.

You slid back against the sofa cushions, lost in your own memory, eyes shut but twitching as if in deep sleep. Brunnhilde draped a blanket over your lap and propped your head onto a cushion, leaving you to your memories.

You stood, tossing aside the blankets and sheets and carefully opened the doors of your balcony. Long since a trellis had been built into the stone wall outside and you used it, as always, to climb down from your rooms into the quiet of the gardens. Out in the night, the lanterns led the way slowly fading as you moved further from the safety of the palace until you were in darkness surrounded by the trees at the edge of the palace land. Above you the forest loomed, foreboding and fascinating all at once. You expected to be alone, out in the night, but as you slowed to a halt, panting breaths that circled you in the midnight air, a voice called to you through the manicured lawns and trained roses, echoing from the mountain behind you, sad and low.

Loki’s arms found your waist, pulling you back against his chest. Firm and real in the ethereal night, and took your weight as you cried again.

“My darling, please, you can not leave me here." He begged, nuzzling into your neck and breathing you in. You could smell him too, your memory so vivid that it filled your senses.

“What choice do I have?" You sagged further into his hold, his strong arms keeping you against his chest.

Together you tumbled to the ground. Loki kept you close in his lap, attempting to stop your skirts from catching in the grass and mud, but you pushed them away, taking his wrists and placing his hands on your waist. With panting breaths you stared at each other, the moonlight glowing in his eyes. Then he kissed you. With no hesitation, no shyness. His tongue licking into your mouth and claiming you.

You fell into his kisses, the moss below you becoming a blanket as he lay you down. You pulled him closer, sinking into the feeling of his magic as it surrounded you, allowing him to mould himself to your body.

“Your dress, it will be noticed," he mumbled, pulling the silk and chiffon back onto the blanket.

“If I have to leave in a week, why should I care what anyone thinks? I’ll never be allowed to live again. And I want to live Loki, I want to be free!” Your hands were on his shoulders, in his hair, on his arms pulling him closer, clinging to him as if to life itself.

“You are still a Princess, soon you'll be a Queen too. I should take you back to the palace.” He propped himself up on his elbow, warring with himself over whether to take you back to your chambers or keep you here forever. Loki was losing his fight, confusion writ across his normally controlled expression. Your kisses tasted like wine and figs, intoxicating and enticing. He had held himself back for so long, kept his feelings deeply hidden for so long he was struggling to keep his hands from you.

“Is that not enough for you, my Prince? Or is it because you are a God? Am I not Goddess enough?” You started to sit up, confused in the depths of your emotions. If you weren't enough then you wouldn't be humiliated.

“My darling, my Princess, my Queen, Ásynja. I would worship at your feet." He insisted, cupping your cheeks, his eyes swirling with need, with desire, with something you couldn't name. "But you will have to hold court here, you must be respected as the Goddess of Spring, there is some purity required," he hinted, his hands clenching in the swirling fabric at your waist.

Loki kissed across your brow, your nose, your cheeks, every kiss more reverent than the last. Filled with the love he was too frightened to name.

You laughed, a harsh bark compared to the usually tinkling lilt of your joy, “Is that what you think they’ll crown me? Because of my mother?”

You felt him nod against your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse, enjoying the taste of you while he could, before he let you go.

“What else could you be? How could you be anything but pure love and joy, there is no other who could replace her, it has to be you,” his hands played with the jewels that seemed to eternally adorn your hair, turning each pink diamond green beneath his touch.

“Lust. That’s what I've heard I will be, a humiliation, a jest. What do you get when you marry spring and fertility with chaos and brawling? Lust, he said, violent lust. And I shall marry a war lord from Vanaheim too, to confirm my position. He made it clear I wasn’t to fall in love while I was here, I must keep myself pure so that my lord may enjoy his wife to the fullest." You ground your teeth, tearing at the blanket beneath you. "His greatest trick. Naming his own daughter Goddess of Lust as a - as a - as a virgin." Your face screwed up in anger, sobs wracking you as you thought of giving yourself so intimately to your betrothed. But Loki stopped.

“You love me?” He asked, suddenly shy, his grasping hands holding you close.

You met his gaze again, soft and full of admiration. “Endlessly,” you breathed, and he lay you back down among the moss, the growing flowers and new shoots, the warm sun rising and the scent of spring surrounding you.

You woke to Brunnhilde stoking the fire, the curtains drawn now and the lights low. She smiled as you stirred and came to sit beside you again.

“Pleasant dreams, were they?” She asked, raising an eyebrow, and you felt hot suddenly, even without the crackling fire.

“I still have so many questions,” you pondered on what you needed answered first.

“My father? Was he cruel?” You asked, curling your feet under yourself and tucking one of Brunnhilde's many blankets over your knees.

"I never met him properly." Brunnhilde admitted, though a little awkwardly. "I know he was a god here on Midgard, and that your mother kept you closely guarded on Asgard while he was holding court here. I believe it was an arranged match, and there was no love between them. It was perhaps why she was so keen to see you well married, in the end. But I haven't seen him, not since he took you back."

Married. You had already found out that you were a Goddess, what would be marriage compared to that? To some unknown war lord no less, perhaps he would already be dead. But it was some comfort to know that, even then, you had given your heart and soul to Loki instead.

Brunnhilde watched you, waiting for the next question.

“You said Loki meant a lot to me. Will you show me?” You felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your spine, you knew exactly what he meant, but you had to know whether it was a dalliance born of extreme emotion, or something more.

The King looked awkward for a moment. “I didn’t see a lot of it. You were both private, but also royalty. I wasn’t there, but I do remember the last ball you attended together, the one in your honour. He danced with you the whole night and refused any other offer, the court was abuzz with whispers of your courtship. Your father was angry that you'd allowed yourself to become the subject of gossip and he took you early in the morning before anyone else was awake. You had planned a final breakfast on the terrace with the Princes and the Queen, Loki was distraught for a day and then it was as if you were never there. No one spoke of you, and Frigga made it clear your name was never to enter the gossip of court again, for everyone’s safety."

The whole thing had been so odd, all you wanted to do was speak to Loki and share your new knowledge with him, to see if he could remember it too. Brunnhilde called Thor while you layered your coat and scarf on again, tugging your boots on with one hand on the wall in the small hallway.

She stood in the doorway as you left, and directed you away from her cosy home, back towards the harbour and to another stone cottage before she closed the door for the night, leaving you to your thoughts.

You walked slowly across the small village, enjoying the crisp air and the bob of the boats in the harbour. It was calm here, away from the world, and you contemplated asking Loki if you could continue your training here instead of returning to the bustle of the compound.

"Princess Estrid,” a deep voice said behind you. The title was new and brittle, but you assumed it must be another Asgardian, perhaps someone you once knew and, with a new found excitement, you turned to them with a smile.

“Yes?"

And then everything went black.

<<Part 6

Part 8>>

Gods & Goddess' mentioned.

This is just from my own reading, I'm by no means an expert, just a fan, so if you know more and want to talk to me please send me a message/ask!

Brigid - beloved Goddess from the Tuatha Dé Danann. Brigid is often cited as the goddess of spring, the dawn, fertility. Brigid is so popular she was made into a Saint as Christianity became more widespread. She's often linked to a magical cloak which gives protection to those that wear it, you can leave cloth outside of your house on Imbolc for her to bless and in some stories it's her cloak that covers the ground during winter. She's also linked to cattle and craftsmen (including metal work and those that use fire), mothers and children.

Brigid is well loved and celebrated still as a Pagan Goddess and Christian Saint.

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #Loki fluff #loki x female reader

152 notes · View notes

hp-hcs · 5 months

Note

Can you write a Theo x reader that’s super angsty. Here’s what I’m thinking; Theo is a death eater (forced to be by his father.) and y/n is a slytherin but joined dumbledores army with the golden trio. So it’s like they’re fighting on opposite sides- theo believes he can feed the other side information and work as a spy sort of like snape. Maybe something where during the battle at hogwarts where they find each other/ someone’s hurt etc. or Theo is found out as a spy and gets tortured or something. I need a solid cry. I lovveee fanfics but sometimes I need more book accurate stories ya know? - Tysm in advance! I followed on my writing acc. And I’ll be on the lookout! You’re the best! :)

uh careful what you wish for ig? idk what this is

requests? i have to spend the week at my parents and i just cannot 🫠

it’s too late — ex-death eater! order of the phoenix! theodore nott x gn! order of the phoenix! reader

WARNINGS: uh angst, no happy ending, graphic descriptions of character death, graphic descriptions of blood and gore, the ineradicability of hope despite the futility of effort?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Ooh, Y/N,” Theodore waggles his eyebrows with a silly grin. “Love the outfit. You should wear my clothes more often.”

“God, I am trying to eat my breakfast,” Harry grumbles, pretending to gag.

You stick your tongue out at him and smooth out the front of your sweater, the one you ‘borrowed’ from Theodore’s trunk. You move past Harry’s chair, ruffling his hair as you pass, and head towards the kitchen to help Tonks and Mrs. Weasley clean up breakfast.

The Order had retreated once more to 12 Grimmauld Place as Death Eater attacks began to grow nearer and nearer every day. Theodore Nott, a Death Eater defector (can someone even be a defector if they never supported the cause in the first place?) was hiding out with the Order, as the group’s informant and spy.

Ron shot Theo a dirty look, frowning. It was no secret that the Trio didn’t fully trust Theodore, even despite his Unbreakable Vow to the cause. “Pass me the butter?”

Theo schooled his features into a neutral, impassive expression, sliding the butter dish across the table.

“Thanks,” Ron mumbled tersely, not meeting his eyes.

Theo nodded stiffly in acknowledgment. “Uh, anyways, there’s another meeting today. I’ll be gone this afternoon, but I should be back by this evening.”

“Meeting? There’s not supposed to be another meeting,” Remus Lupin looked up from his copy of the Prophet, eyebrows furrowing.

“No. But those Eaters that got arrested yesterday? In Diagon Alley?” Theo reaches over the table to tap to front page of Remus’ newspaper, where a large headline proclaims ‘TEN DEAD��Five Death Eaters Arrested’. “Ol’ Moldy Voldy’s pissed.”

Remus grimaces. “Should we se-”

An uncomfortable tugging sensation settles on all of the occupants’ bodies, the fizz of magic snapping and popping filling the air.

Sirius, with a piece of toast halfway in his mouth, looks up, startled. He mumbles something around his bite of food, dropping his toast and standing up.

“What was that?” Harry asks, reaching for his wand.

“The wards,” Sirius says anxiously. “Somebody’s here. Somebody with ill intent.”

As if on cue, the back door of Grimmauld slammed open, the doorframe splintered and cracked with the force of it.

You jump to your feet, wand in hand, ready to run in guns ablazing. But Theo shoves you behind him, his fingers curled tight into the fabric of your sweater to keep you from running back out into the fray.

In the doorway stands a large figure, swathed in black with a terrifyingly uncanny inhuman mask. The figure wastes no time in raising their wand, firing off a quick Crucio at Harry, who tumbles to the ground immediately.

The figure is joined by three other monstrous forms, who shove past them with alacrity. The four figures are immediately engaged in a frantic fight, ending with one of them being hit over the head by Tonks with a baseball bat portkey, two of them being Stupefied, and the last one standing menacingly in the center of the wrecked kitchen, holding their side where they’re actively bleeding from a well-aimed Sectumsempra from Harry.

You’d never seen anything like that spell before, and you watched the effects in fascinated horror.

The figure sinks to its knees, coughing loudly. It hastily pulls off its mask, wet blood dribbling from its mouth and running down its- his chin.

In front of you, Theo stiffens, his fingers clenching in your sweater.

“Theodore,” the man on the floor rasps, grinning maniacally as he hacked out more blood. “Traitor.”

“F-father-”

The man scrambles for his wand. “The Dark Lord sends his regards. Avada Kedavra!”

Theodore falls to the floor with a loud thunk, his body limp and empty. You drop to your knees beside him. It’s loud. Someone’s screaming.

You realize it’s you.

You desperately cup his face in your hands, trying to get him to wake up, to say got you! and laugh.

But he remains still.

You can barely tell that you’re frantically muttering every healing spell you know.

It’s no use.

You feel a heavy hand rest on your shoulder. Looking up, you can vaguely tell through your tears that it’s Ron, his bright red hair acting as a beacon. Ron shakes his head slowly. He says something, you can see his lips moving, but no sound comes out. Your head feels underwater; everything seems distorted.

You grip Theodore’s hand (so cold, so dead) in yours, sobbing out pleas to Merlin, to Salazar, to God, to whoever is out there.

It’s too late.

He’s gone.

~~~

“Pass me the butter? Thanks.”

“Anyways, there’s another meeting today. I’ll be gone this afternoon, but I should be back b-”

“Theo!”

He falls silent, looking up at you, confused.

“Theo, they’re coming. They know you’ve double crossed them.”

Theodore blinks.

He starts laughing.

“Y/N, hon. I think the stress is starting to get to you,” he smiles gently and presses a kiss to your cheek. “They know nothing.”

“No, it’s not! I-”

“Sweetheart, this anxiety of yours isn’t helping anyone right now,” Mrs. Weasley put her hands on your shoulders. “How about you go lie down for a bit, dear. I’ll bring you a cup of tea in a minute. Go on,” she gently shoos you from the kitchen despite your protests.

You’re ushered out into the hallway, and you can hear the click of the kitchen door’s lock. You scoff, offended and upset. You can hear the indistinct murmurs of everyone behind the door.

Why didn’t they believe you?

A now semi-familiar tugging sensation settles on your skin, the sound of warning magic filling the air.

You gasp. You run to the kitchen door, banging on it. “No, wait! Theo- let me in!”

You hear louder murmurs, then a crashing sound of what must’ve been the door splintering, just like before.

You bang louder on the door, jiggling the door handle. You can hear the sounds of the fight breaking out and you scream, hammering your fists against the kitchen door.

Then you hear it.

“Theodore. Traitor.”

“F-father-”

“The Dark Lord sends his regards. Avada Kedavra!”

It’s too late.

He’s gone.

~~~

“Theodore. Traitor.”

“F-father-”

“The Dark Lord sends his regards. Avada Kedavra!”

You tackle Theo to the ground just in time, ducking under the spell.

His head hits the ground with a stomach churning crack. His face goes blank and the light in his eyes is snuffed out all at once. Blood slowly starts pooling around his skull.

It’s too late.

He’s gone.

~~~ “Avada Kedav-”

You leap in front of Theodore.

The spell reflects off of the odd golden hourglass charm you wear around your neck.

The green burst bounces around the room like a pinball machine. It’d be comical if it wasn’t deadly.

It bounces off of the saucepan on the stove, rebounding. With no preamble, hits Theodore straight in the chest.

He falls with a sickening whumph.

It’s too late.

He’s gone.

~~~

You fall to your knees at the same time as Theo’s body hits the floor.

You sob out, clutching your chest over your heart.

Why?

Why couldn’t you save him?

“Because it’s futile.”

You look up, thick tears streaming down your face.

The man on the floor, Theodore’s father, gives you a bloodstained grin. His red-streaked fingers help him claw his way across the floor over to you, a streak of blood smearing across the floor, marking the path of his slow-moving body.

He clamps one hand over your knee, squeezing with an unexpected strength. His nails dig into your skin, hard enough that dots of blood erupt to the surface. You gasp at the sharp pain, then gasp again when you look up into his ruby red eyes.

“Death is the end,” he rasps with psychotic glee, blood and spittle dripping from his lips. “You’ve changed nothing. You are nothing. You’ve failed him. It’s too late. He’s gone.”

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