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inmyownlittlecorner5 · 4 years

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Severus Snape and the Midnight Tea

A One-Shot by la-topolina

Rated for Teen Audiences

Warnings: Death of a parent

Written for the Severus Snape Bigbang 2019+

Summary: Luna Lovegood is a most curious child.

Author’s Note: For the Snape Bigbang 2019, we were asked to write a story starring our favorite potions master to be illustrated by an fan artist. I was very fortunate to be paired with @owlswithfins; and you can see their absolutely perfect artwork for this tale here: Poppies+

(picspam by the author)

The first time Severus Snape met Luna Lovegood was at her mother’s funeral. He’d been unsurprised by the news that Pandora Lovegood, née Nott, had managed to kill herself during a disastrous spell experiment; but he had been sorry all the same. Pandora had possessed a rare quality of unfailing good will and, wild as her imagination would sometimes run, her presence in the Slytherin common room had been a welcome breath of fresh air.

And so it was, on a atrociously lovely day in May, Severus found himself counted among the flock of Pandora’s mourners, balancing a teacup and saucer and a plate of cold meat and cake in the furthest recesses of the Lovegoods’ garden that he could respectably maintain. The gloriously blue sky was a heartless backdrop to the red-eyed and frequently sniveling guests, as was the riot of greens, blues, pinks, and purples that had burst forth in the freshness of spring around them. Only the crumbling stone wall enclosing the lawn had the decency to display a touch of melancholy decay, and Severus tenaciously clung to his haven in the corner; trusting that his dour expression and ability to avoid eye contact would protect him from the unpleasant task of making conversation.

“You’ve a Wrackspurt in your ear,” piped a small voice near his elbow.

He tensed at the disturbance, and looked down his nose to behold the now motherless Lovegood girl, decked in a white chiffon dress and a crown of violently red poppy flowers.

“I beg your pardon?” he replied stiffly, returning the child’s vague smile with a frown.

“A Wrackspurt. I can tell because you were staring off and not talking to anybody. But don’t worry, it’s to be expected. They’re everywhere today.”

“Are they? I don’t believe I am familiar with that particular creature.”

“Oh, they’re pesky little brutes. They float in people’s ears and make their thoughts get all fuzzy. And they like funerals. Everyone is so sad and distracted you know, so it’s easy for them to get in. They’re sure to have gotten me by now too, since Daddy made me leave off my spectrespecs.”

Severus was beginning to feel mildly dizzy from the speed of the girl’s prattle.

“Spectrespecs?”

“They help you see the Wrackspurts coming. But Daddy said that there would be too many today to bother with the spectrespecs, especially since they would upset Grandmama Nott. And he can always take care of them during the nightly de-Wrackspurting before bedtime stories.”

“I see.” He did not see.

“Now I know who you are! You’re Professor Severus Snape. I’m Luna Lovegood and you’ll be my teacher in two years.”

She held out her hand to him with a poise that belied her age, her weedy frame, and her odd lexicon. Her manner was so airy that he wondered if she were perhaps as moonstruck as her name implied; but he took her hand and bent over it as though she were a pureblood matron to command such courtesies.

“Miss Lovegood, I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Professor Snape. That’s nice of you to say, and Daddy says you’re usually not nice to anyone.”

He smirked in spite of himself. “That is true. I am not nice to anyone.”

“Did you know that being mean to people attracts Wrackspurts?”

“I was not aware of that.”

“They like to latch onto the purpleness of it all.”

“Ah.” He was not sure whether he was amused or insulted—but he was in no way bored, which was a novel feeling. He eyed her closely, noting the jagged cut of her hair and asked pointedly, “Was it a Wrackspurt that got hold of your hair today?”

She shook her locks carelessly. “No. A Dirigible Leafhopper. It found the scissors, and when Dirigible Leafhoppers get scissors, they will cut hair.”

“Naturally.” Severus wondered if all children this age were so easy to talk to.

She climbed up to perch on the edge of the garden wall and helped herself to the uneaten slice of lemon cake from his plate.

“I saw Mummy die, you know.”

“I did not know. How terrible for you.”

“It was, and it wasn’t.” She cocked her head to one side and her eyes slid slightly out of focus. “I don’t really remember it now. Six o’clock is the hour for remembering. At six I’ll be sad, but at seven I’ll be glad. Your Daddy died too.”

He grit his teeth to keep his jaw from falling open.

“Don’t worry,” she continued, crumbs from the cake clinging to the corners of her mouth, “the Mealytoes were telling me this morning. They went down the whole list of party guests and told me which ones had lost someone.”

“So you would know who to pester?” The child no longer seemed entertaining.

“So I would know who to give a poppy to.”

She finished his cake and plucked a poppy from her crown. Before he could retreat, she had tucked it behind his ear, and his hands were so encumbered by refreshments that he could only muster a glare to protect himself. Admittedly, it was a superior glare. One might say it was a glare sufficient to strike a grown man dead in his tracks.

It was a glare that did not affect this little wisp of a girl in the least.

“Poppies are very useful,” she explained, wiping her hands on her dress. “They suck up all the bile that gets stuck in your veins when someone dies, and they hold it for you so that you can still remember—but not so brightly that it hurts. Good day professor! Thank you for coming to Mummy’s party. I can’t wait to be in your class at school.”

Hopping down from the wall, Luna twirled about three times and skipped away in a flurry of floating skirts, her effervescent voice trailing after her.

“One for sorrow, two for joy

Three for a girl, four for a boy, boy, boy.

Five is for silver, six is for gold,

Seven for a secret that’s ne’er to be told, told told!”

Severus immediately deposited his plate and teacup on the toadstool table nearby and snatched the poppy from behind his ear. He felt vaguely nauseous, like he’d been sitting too long on a merry-go-round. The urge to crush the life from the hapless flower coursed through him, and only Xenophilius’s untimely interruption prevented it.

“Oh, my Luna has given you a poppy!” Xenophilius blubbered, clapping Severus on the shoulder. “She is such a good girl. I am so fortunate that she is safe. I do not know what I would do if I had lost both her and my Pandora.”

Here the man burst into fresh tears, and it was some time before Severus managed to extract himself from the embarrassing and unnatural position of sympathetic listener. By the time he effected his escape, the poppy was no longer as offensive, and he tucked it into a pocket as he slipped away from the Lovegood house into the freedom of the afternoon.

That evening, for some damned fool reason he could never later explain, he placed the poppy in a vase on the shelf over the desk in his sitting room at Hogwarts.

And it never wilted.

*****

The next time that Severus Snape met Luna Lovegood was on September first of 1992, long after the newly-minted Ravenclaw should have been in bed. He was walking his rounds, stalking through the darkened corridors and soaking in the somnolent atmosphere. He would never admit it, but Hogwarts without its students in residence was a dismal place. A week—or two at most—was as long as his spirits could stand the lack of human contact; especially after an entire summer spent alone in the despondent home of his childhood.

He had reached the entry hall, and was intending to retire to his rooms for reading and bed, when he saw her. The girl had not grown much since that unfortunate day two years prior. Her hair was scragglier, and her fingernails were ragged and dirty. She was wearing pink and green unicorn pajamas, and there were red trainers on her feet. Drifting through the hallway like a specter, she paid him no attention. Her small, white hands floated out in front of her, and when she reached the oaken door she started pushing at it, scrunching up her face with the effort.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw, Miss Lovegood. Go back to your tower immediately,” he said, stifling a yawn.

She didn’t answer—she merely kept wrestling with the locked door.

“And detention tomorrow evening. Miss Lovegood, classes have not even begun. This may be a new record.”

The silly child was beating on the unforgiving wood, completely ignoring him. He snarled and grabbed her by her thin shoulder; whipping her around to face him. Her eyes were rolling beneath her half-closed eyelids. The sight was so strange that he drew back at first, before realizing that she was asleep and dreaming. Disgruntled, he took her by the shoulders again and shook her once.

Her eyes snapped open instantly, and she started to shriek.

“Mummy! No Mummy, no!”

Severus clamped his hand over her mouth and she bit him, drawing blood. As he withdrew his hand, she started raining weak blows on him, like a kitten wrestling a tiger. He held her firmly by the shoulders until she ceased to fight; dissolving into tears and wetting the front of his robes. When the child’s fury had spent itself, he took her firmly under the arm and marched her down the stairs to the potions room.

Luna’s teeth started chattering as they descended, and her breathing was still punctuated by periodic sniffles. The dank chill of the lower part of the castle was uncomfortable at night, but he did not bother to light any of the fires, even when they came at last to his meticulously ordered classroom.

“Is it time for lessons now?” she asked, perking up despite the tears still seeping out of the corners of her doleful eyes. “I thought it was still night. Do we have classes under the moon?”

“Silence Miss Lovegood,” he ordered, “And sit down.”

As docile now as she had been disobedient earlier, she did as he asked, taking a seat at one of the empty work benches and running her hands over the smooth wood. He risked leaving her there long enough to retrieve a Calming Draught from the store closet, breathing a sigh of relief when he returned to find her where he had left her.

“Drink this,” he said, handing her the vial.

“A Calming Draught!” she said, beaming. She drank it without complaint, and then began hopping the empty vial over the top of the work bench, singing, “A Calming Draught, a Calming Draught, five knuts for a Calming Draught! A Calming Draught for me!”

“Cease that nonsense immediately, Miss Lovegood!” he snapped. “It is well past midnight, and, in case you have forgotten, classes begin in the morning.”

She stopped singing, but continued hopping the vial. “Yes, sir. But I think you’d best come with me up to the tower so that a Thistle-toed Night Creeper doesn’t catch me. I saw some of them skittering through the hallways.”

“To my understanding you were asleep whilst you were traipsing through the hallways. It must have been a dream,” he countered; but he was already leading her out of the dungeons on the long journey home.

“I was,” she agreed, tossing the empty vial up and down as they walked. “But you can see some things better when you are sleeping. I thought you knew. Don’t you see things more clearly in your dreams?”

He snatched the vial out of the air and shoved it irritably in his pocket. “One more word out of you, and I will deduct enough points from Ravenclaw to make Professor Flitwick sorry he ever saw you.”

She shrugged, but contented herself with whistling merrily as thy climbed. As stairwell after stairwell passed under their feet and failed to wind her, Severus mused that Luna was a truly strange child. He wondered how much of her mother’s daring curiosity she had inherited, and he began to tremble inwardly for the safety of his potions class.

By the time they reached the top of Ravenclaw tower, Severus’s calves were screaming. The eyes on the carved eagle head guarding the door flamed to life, and it posed its evening riddle.

“Nails and straw, cabbage and thee; all are longing—at last—for me,” it said.

“A bed,” Luna replied almost before the knocker had finished speaking.

“A paltry riddle,” Severus remarked.

“It’s only the first day. Good night, professor. Watch out for the Creepers!”

“Miss Lovegood.”

When the door was safely closed after the little Ravenclaw, Severus began the long trek back to his quarters. The castle whispered around him, but the night-time noises were old friends to him, settling his nerves rather than setting them on edge.

He did notice the flicker of something out of the corner of his eye as he unlocked his door. It was a winged shadow of sorts; and the edges of its form could be called thistle-like in structure. He turned his head to catch sight of the creature, but it vanished into the shadows like a puff of itinerant smoke.

Humbug and nonsense, he thought; and let himself in to bed.

*****

By the next afternoon, he was ready to kill her.

He’d begun the class with his usual lecture meant to impress upon the students the gravitas of the subject they were about to undertake—not that any of the dunderheads were capable of grasping the concepts he was placing before them. Once again the first year class was predictably dull, staring at him with stunned expressions due no doubt both to their confusion, and to their awe of him. All were staring, save one.

Luna had claimed a seat on the front bench, in the exact spot she’d taken during the small hours of the morning, dancing her empty vial over the wooden table before her. Now she was tapping her fingers on the wood in what Severus assumed was a disrespectful show of boredom. With a dark expression fixed on his face, he stalked through the aisles towards her as the students around him ducked their heads in expectation of the rebuke. But as he approached, he began counting the erratic movements without realizing what he was doing; and before long a familiar pattern emerged.

1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21…

Perhaps the girl was not as lost as she appeared. Nevertheless, he hovered over her, scowling, until she deigned to turn her attention from Fibonacci to her disgruntled teacher.

“I love spirals, sir, don’t you? They’re so very spiral-y,” she said, blinking up at him nonplused.

“Miss Lovegood,” he replied, allowing a trace of snarl to color his tone. “I expect strictest attention to the task at hand at all times in this class. Even a concoction so simple as a Fog Potion can cause considerable damage when mishandled.”

“Yes, sir. Is it not the time for spirals?”

He let the question pass unanswered. “I also expect silence.”

She gave him an airy smile, and he glared back at her for an embarrassingly long time before he realized that she was not going to respond.

“Five points from Ravenclaw, Miss Lovegood,” he growled as he turned back to the rest of the class. “There are thirty minutes left. You will use them to prepare the ingredients for the Fog Potion that you will brew on Wednesday. Precision is more important than speed at this point in your education, but you will not use that as an opportunity for laziness. The instructions are on the board. Begin.”

He flicked his wand and a list of ingredients and their preparations appeared on the black wall behind him. As the students began to nervously chop and crush their hollyhock and toadstools, he took a final circuit of the room, before retiring to his desk to review his notes for the next period’s lecture. He fully expected someone to make an idiotic mistake within ten minutes, but he felt it best to give them some time to fail on their own. Holding their metaphorical hands while they worked would only create dependency. Better to allow them to experience the humiliation of failure in the hopes that the lesson would stick.

“Oh dear…”

Miss Lovegood’s mild voice was the only warning he had; even as he glanced up from his parchment the explosion was erupting. He slashed his wand through the air, containing much of the damage within a hastily cast Shield Charm, but the students directly beside and behind Luna were already mewling like wounded kittens. Luna herself seemed unconcerned, staring at the ugly red welts on her arms as though they were a new problem to solve.

“What in Merlin’s name were you doing, Miss Lovegood?” he demanded, as he began slapping dittany, none too gently, on the injured parties. “You were told to prepare ingredients only. Did you misunderstand me?”

“No sir,” she replied. “But I’d finished, and I had some extra bilious solution, and I wanted to test what would happen if I added some asphodel to it.”

“Ten more points from Ravenclaw, and a foot of parchment on the importance of following instructions due next class.”

“Yes sir.”

He had no idea how she managed to maintain such an innocent and blameless expression under the black look he knew he was giving her, but he did not trust her penitence in the least.

It was a most inauspicious beginning to Miss Lovegood’s Hogwarts career.

*****

Severus was well and truly at the end of his rope come the beginning of October. He muttered darkly to himself as he strode through the halls one Sunday evening, irritated beyond measure by the sweet autumnal breeze and the glorious sunset streaming in the windows, lighting up the inner beauty of the castle just so. Students scattered as he cut through the groups of them where they gathered, frolicking and playing Exploding Snap. He had no time to bother with disciplining any of them, however, and he kept to his course until it led him to Filius Flitwick’s office high in Ravenclaw Tower.

A sharp rap on the door brought the diminutive professor immediately, and Severus glared down at the man until the older professor raised his bushy eyebrows in question.

“Good evening, Severus,” Filius said, puffing on his pipe. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?”

“That Lovegood girl is a menace,” Severus pronounced, eschewing all pleasantries with the intention of coming to the purpose at once.

“Is she? I find her charming. But do come in, and we’ll see what’s to be done about the matter.”

Severus swept into the office behind Filius, but refused to sit when the other man indicated the eagle-headed arm chair before the fire. Unperturbed, the charms professor shrugged and climbed into his own little rocking chair, still smoking his pipe.

“Now what seems to be the trouble?” Filius asked, watching Severus as the younger man paced through the chamber, dodging floating books and models of various magical destinations to which the Ravenclaw head had had the pleasure of visiting.

“Since the beginning of term, Miss Lovegood has caused no less than a dozen explosions in my class due to her refusal to follow direct orders. Her insubordination is endangering the lives of everyone in the room—nay every one in the castle itself!”

Severus emphasized the severity of his accusations with a sharp gesture that sent a miniature Sphinx toppling through the air and bouncing off the opposite wall.

“That is serious,” Filius agreed mildly.

“I’ve deducted house points,” Severus went on.

“Ah, I had wondered about that,” Filius murmured.

“I’ve given her extra essays. I’ve given her detention. I’ve set her to remedial tasks. Nothing deters her from her willful misbehavior. She will go her own way and damn the consequences. Most of the time she appears to be in another world altogether!”

Severus’s heart rate rose, along with his temper, as he enumerated the girl’s crimes.

“Perhaps she is. Have you asked her?”

“Of course not!” Severus spat. “Why would I do such a foolish thing?”

“You might learn something,” Filius replied, his eyes twinkling with something suspiciously like merriment.

“I beg your pardon!” This was not a laughing matter.

“Severus, when was the last time you ate?”

At the mention of food, Severus’s stomach started to rumble, and he growled, “I don’t see how that has any bearing on the subject at hand.”

“Humor me.”

“I…seem to recall eating breakfast…”

“Better than I’d guessed.”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Ah. In that case,” Filius hopped down from his chair and scurried over to a rope-and-pulley system lined with tiny bells near the fire. The top of the contraption stretched up to the domed ceiling, and the bottom extended through a small hole in the floor and out of sight. The charms professor quickly tapped out a ringing tune, and a moment later the rope started moving, sending the bells into an obnoxious bout of tinkling. “Tell me, is there anything else our Miss Lovegood is doing to trouble you besides her classroom difficulties?”

“She is your Miss Lovegood and I will thank you for keeping her.”

“I shall, happily. And here we are.”

A tray of mackerel pâté with pickles on rye, and a steaming cup of earl grey with milk came up through the floor, attached to the rope by an oversized clothespin, and Filius pressed the sustenance into Severus’s unwilling hands.

“I didn’t ask you for tea, Filius,” Severus grumbled, even as he settled himself into the armchair and fell on the sandwiches like a ravenous beast.

“I know, but I find that one tends to think more clearly when one’s energy is not diverted to the task of keeping one upright in the face of starvation,” Filius replied jovially. He sat back down in his rocking chair, and went about the task of refilling his pipe while Severus demolished his food.

“Why is it, do you think, that Miss Lovegood is so troublesome to manage?” asked Filius, tapping his pipe against his chin.

“Because she’s a defiant brat,” was Severus’s quick reply as he took a bracing sip of the perfectly brewed and balanced mixture in his teacup.

Filius shrugged. “I have not found this to be so.”

“Why would you? She’s in your house.”

“Severus, be fair.” Filius’s tone took on a hint of warning. “I think you are aware that I am perfectly willing to discipline when required, and I am always open to constructive criticism from my colleagues. You do remember Mr Whitehouse and the lacewing fly theft?”

“I suppose you did deal with that,” Severus admitted. The food and the tea were slowly robbing him of some of his foul temper.

“Thank you.” Filius puffed in silence and then remarked, “I have found Miss Lovegood to be a delight in class. She is light-years ahead of her fellows in terms of grasping the potential of charmwork.”

“In potions I am afraid she is a disaster.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

Severus’s temper started to flare again. “Filius, I hope you are not insinuating that I am the problem.”

“No. But perhaps your methodology might be examined. You mentioned that you’ve tried all the usual things; detentions, deducting points, extra homework, et cetera?”

“Yes, weren’t you listening?”

“I was. It is difficult not to listen when you are in a snit. What was the purpose of the punishments you’ve meted out thus far?”

“To inspire remorse and respect in the student, of course.”

“I would have said shame and fear.”

“One and the same.”

“Not so,” Filius countered, blowing a trail of smoke rings that danced in and out of each other through the room. “But for the sake of the experiment, let us assume that they are. I would venture to guess that the reason these tactics did not work in this case is because Miss Lovegood cannot be motivated by either shame or fear.”

“I see. She is an ungovernable dunderhead, isn’t she?”

“This brings me to my next point. The remedial work you are torturing her with may be making her behavior even more trying than it needs to be.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed at the other professor. If anything, Filius’s mild expression aggravated him more than if the man had been raging in defense of his silly student.

“Filius, I will give you half a minute to explain what you mean before I take serious exception with you.”

“I thank you, even for that.” A set of rotating orbs descended from on high, and Filius examined their glowing depths as he expounded his theory. “Some students become bored easily, and when they become bored they make all sorts of trouble, because their minds cannot cease being busy. If these minds are not properly directed, they will take their own, sometimes destructive, paths.”

“Are you saying that Lovegood is being impossible simply because she is bored?”

“I am.”

Severus stalked over to return his tray to the kitchens via the pulley system, and tugged at his sleeve irritably as he resumed his pacing.

“Even supposing you were correct, what am I expected to do about her problem?”

“It seems to me that it is your problem as much as hers. Challenge her. Give her more interesting work rather than less.”

“And I am to have yet more work thrust upon me? Is she to be rewarded for misbehavior in such a way?”

“It need not be overly complicated. Something as simple as variations on the potion at hand should suffice.”

“I don’t like it, Filius. It goes against the grain.”

Filius tucked a vibrant magenta ball into his breast pocket, and sent the rest of the mobile floating back up towards heaven.

“Sometimes the most challenging students are the most rewarding, when we reach them.”

“I would dispute that conclusion in general, and in this case in particular.”

The Ravenclaw looked up at the Slytherin with a pointed gaze, and observed, “It would seem to me that you have nothing to lose by trying. How much time are you already wasting with Shield Charms, disasters, and injuries?”

A hot retort beat its way to Severus’s tongue, but he knew Filius well enough to glean when he was within an inch of pushing the man too far. It was rarely worth pushing the charms professor too far.

“Very well. I will put your plan to the test for the next week. But if I do not see immediate improvement, your Miss Lovegood will spend the rest of term cleaning bedpans in the hospital wing.”

The merry gleam returned to Filius’s eyes, and Severus felt his shoulders relax a tick.

“You must do as you see fit, Severus. But I would wager that you will not be disappointed. Now, is there anything further?”

Severus frowned, debating whether he should mention the child’s other problem.

“I see that there is. Come now, what else is the lass doing?” Filius prompted.

“She sleepwalks. At least once a week I see her out of the Tower during my rounds,” Severus said, leaning on the back of the armchair.

“My goodness,” Filius replied, his merry look replaced with one of concern. “I was not aware of that. Are you certain?”

“Of course I’m certain! And it’s a damned nuisance to wake her, calm her infernal screaming, and escort her back to her dormitory.”

“All that and you not being as young as you used to be.” Severus opened his mouth to take the bait, but Filius continued without allowing him the time. “Waking her is what is causing the trouble.”

“I should think that her sleepwalking is what is causing the trouble.”

Filius shook his head firmly. “Not so. She is attempting to accomplish something; something her subconscious mind finds of highest import. The next time someone finds her in this situation, he would do better to help her accomplish whatever her task may be, and lead her back to bed without waking her.”

��This child becomes more bothersome by the second!” Severus exclaimed. “First I must make new lesson plans, and now I am expected to aid her on some sleep-addled, featherbrained quest?”

“If I am the one to catch her in the act, I will do the same.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t expect you to. The subconscious mind is sometimes more insightful than the conscious one. Why don’t you give it a try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll talk to Madam Pomfrey about other options, but I would rather avoid giving the child more potions than absolutely necessary. I don’t need to tell you how habit forming they can become.”

“No. You don’t.” Severus flicked an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve and started for the door. “Good night, Filius. I shall take my leave of you before you add any other tasks to my already considerable workload.”

“Good night, Severus. I look forward to hearing the results of our experiments.”

Severus gave the Ravenclaw a short bow and started the journey back towards the dungeons; unsure as to whether he wished for Filius to be right, and thus save him further troubles—or wrong, and thus give him the pleasure of telling the man so.

Either way, it appeared he had little to lose.

*****

A week into the experiment produced such improvement in Miss Lovegood’s behavior, that Severus had merely smirked at Filius when the head of Ravenclaw had asked him about it. The potions master had taken the trouble of reseating the Lovegood girl as far away from the potentially explosive supply cabinet as possible, and he had partnered her with Margaret Baskerville at Filius’s suggestion. Miss Baskerville had demonstrated a remarkable affinity to the Shield Charm, as the Ravenclaws had discovered one evening during an overexcited match of Exploding Snap. Severus had even begun to hope that the moon child’s sleepwalking days had ended when he passed several nights of patrol without encountering her. Perhaps she had merely required a period of time to acclimate to her new surroundings.

One mild night in mid-October, Severus’s hopes were dashed—yet again—when he discovered Miss Lovegood, willowy arms heavy laden with a checked picnic blanket wrapped around some unwieldy burden, attempting to escape from the castle by the locked front door. He silently approached her, his hand ready to shake her awake even as he braced himself for her inevitable screaming.

Just before his hand reached her shoulder, he recalled Filius’s advice to help the sleeping child rather than hinder her. Cursing himself for a fool, he murmured the incantation to unlock the latch, and pushed the door open to the night air. She shuffled through it without waking, her red trainers crunching fallen leaves beneath them, and her fluffy yellow bathrobe flapping in the light breeze. The full moon bathed the grounds in silver-blue light as he followed the girl all the way to the shadowy edge of the Forbidden Forest. Doxies and nightwings flocked to them, and far off an owl hooted a warning. Severus drew his wand and swatted at the pests until they flurried away; and Miss Lovegood continued on the forest path, still firmly asleep.

As they progressed deeper into the forest, the darkness pressed in on them; the half-dressed arms of the trees blocking out the moonlight overhead. The lumos from Severus’s wand gave him enough light to see the girl’s eyelids flickering, and he wondered briefly how exactly she was able to walk over the uneven ground without stumbling in this state. Once or twice he thought he caught a glimpse of red eyes peering at them from behind some gnarled shape; and more often than that, he contemplated waking the child and dragging her screaming back to the castle. He fully intended to give Filius a set down after the antics tonight.

At the moment he had firmly decided to abort this fool’s mission, they came to a large clearing, guarded by towering evergreens. The moon was hanging overhead, smiling down at them like some idiot dreamer, and Severus crossed his arms, watching the girl pad her way to the middle of the brown grass and drop her heavy load. She started struggling to untie the many knots holding the bundle together, until Severus scoffed impatiently, and flicked his wand at the mess. Instantly, the blanket unfolded itself to reveal a lovely spread of strawberry sandwiches, lemon cakes, and steaming tea; along with a mishmash of tea cups, bowls, plates, and brightly colored napkins. Luna settled herself, tailor style, in the midst of this unorthodox tea party, a most serene expression on her now obviously awake face.

“Oh, Professor!” she said, yawning up at him. “Was I sleepwalking again?”

“You were,” he replied irritably.

“Won’t you sit down? Have I been very much trouble?”

“You have.”

“I’m so sorry. But it was time for tea, and I didn’t want my friends to think I’d forgotten them.”

“Your what?”

“Look.”

She made a fanciful gesture with her hands in a northerly direction, and as Severus turned his aggravated glare towards the exterior darkness, he beheld half a dozen thestrals gliding into the clearing. Their serpentine tails curved and swished, leaving a trail of silvery ash behind them, and their skeletal, equine bodies moved in an undulating fashion that was disorienting to witness. As they slid up to the blanket, they dropped to their boney knees and wrapped their inky tails around them, their eyes of chartreuse flame sparking as Luna babbled happily; pouring tea into bowls and arranging morsels on plates for her cadaverous guests.

“Hello there!” she bubbled. “I’m so happy to finally see you when we can talk, aren’t you? Things have been monstrous busy since I came to school, and it’s been awful trying to find the way out to the clearing. But here I am at last!”

Severus stared at the morbid production with the horrid fascination of one watching a Quidditch accident. The beasts stank of talcum powder and formaldehyde; and he shut his eyes against their reptilian forms. There, in the darkness of his mind, he was assaulted by death; as memories of Lily’s body, lifeless and beautiful, mingled with those of his father’s corpse; poisoned by drink and by every venomous word that had tripped like water off the bastard’s vile tongue.

His eyes snapped open and he sneered at the mad princess and her deathly court. “Miss Lovegood, as you have regained whatever senses you possess, I insist that you return to the castle immediately.”

One of the younger thestrals reared up and bounded to him. Before Severus could react, it had its head in the small of his back, and was pushing him onto the blanket with enough force that he stumbled and fell to his knees.

“I think they’ll be angry if we leave just now, professor,” Luna whispered loudly, passing a teacup to him.

He snatched it and flung it across the clearing, where it shattered against a tree trunk. Another thestral snorted at him and pawed the ground with a dusty hoof.

“It’s no matter, I’ve another,” Luna said, unfazed.

“I don’t want any tea!” Severus spat.

“But you shall have some all the same.”

She set another cup before him—a black one, painted with a whimsical bat curving in flight over the porcelain interior—and filled it to the brim with steaming tea from her poppy covered teapot.

“I’m having a lovely time at school,” she chattered to the thestrals while the beasts snorted and lapped at the tea and the victuals. “Charms is my favorite so far, but after that is potions. Professor Snape has been setting me all sorts of tests and dreams to try, and I like it ever so much better than Professor McGonagall who makes me do everything one slow step at a time.”

His anger was choking him, and he knew that Miss Lovegood’s words were worthless, but he scooped up the cup and drank some of the scalding liquid, desperate to cover the bilious taste in his mouth. The concoction was not proper tea; but rather a tincture of lavender and chamomile, steeped exactly so. The talcum powder and formaldehyde receded into the background, as did the sound of Miss Lovegood’s chattering. He must have been more tired than he’d realized, for the next thing he remembered, he was jerking awake, and the last of the thestrals was disappearing into the forest. The dishes were all packed away, and Luna was watching him with a patient and pleased smile on her face.

“I’m ready to go back to the castle now, sir,” she said cheerfully.

“If you’re ready then, please, by all means,” he sarcastically replied.

She hummed to herself all the way up to Ravenclaw tower and, while he wanted to fume at her, he found that he was too uncomfortably relaxed to do so. When they gained the top of the tower stairs, she turned to him, her eyes shining in the moonlight that ghosted in through the windows.

“Thank you for helping me tonight, sir. I think I’ll be able to get there on my own from now on,” she said.

“Need I remind you, Miss Lovegood, that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to students?” he chastised.

“I know it is. But don’t worry, that doesn’t bother me.”

“Obviously.”

“And it’s important I go,” she said earnestly.

“Why ever would you think that?”

“So the thestrals will help me with my mother.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “If her spirit is troubling you, there are better ways to deal with it than breaking curfew and risking life and limb in the Forest.”

“No, not her spirit, she’s gone on. It’s the memories. The poppies can’t hold enough; but if I go to the thestrals, they’ll help me hold enough. I’ll still remember, but I won’t get lost.” She broke the seriousness of the subject by twirling like a top and adding, “You can join me anytime you like.”

“I shall not take you up on that offer, and if I catch you out of bed, you may be sure that I will punish you for it. Good night, Miss Lovegood,” he snapped.

He whirled away and descended the stairs in a swirl of his black robes. Merlin, this moon child was turning out to be as much trouble as the Potter brat.

“Midnight teas And thank you please, Moonlight, wand light, All sleep tight!”

Luna’s ethereal voice and her nonsense song haunted him all the way down to the dungeons.

But he slept better that night than he had in ages. And in the morning, the memories of his dead did not wake with him. He was halfway through his morning class before he first recalled the sprawled form and the spray of auburn hair. Even when it came upon him, the memory did not cause his blood to run cold or his heart to pound.

Luna looked up from her work and smiled at him, as though she sensed the moment that the unwanted recollection sprang up in his mind. He restrained himself from giving her the satisfaction of a response, and turned his attention to his marking.

And the next time he caught her on her way to tea, he docked Ravenclaw ten points—and carried the blanket bundle to the clearing for her.

*****

End Notes:

Luna is tapping out the Fibonacci sequence; in which each number is the sum of the two numbers prior, and relates to spirals.

I head-canon that thestrals smell different to each person, depending on that person's experiences aand beliefs about death.

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atinyidea · 4 years

Text

[ 1 ] UNDER THE RAIN | ONE | O. Sehun

chapter summary — Working two jobs wasn’t a challenge for you, your days were quirky and nights were always fun, in some shape or form. You liked your life, the people in it, the place you were at. But when a stranger walks into the unusual cafe you worked at things start to get... strange. And events always seem to happen under the rain.

note — Sehun’s mate is named Yuna.

word count — 2.3k

tag list — @avmfreak96 and the tags from the first edition, please let me know if you would like me to untag you! @asslikegilinsky, @acevampyre, @high-on-food, @chanyeolol, and @marshmallow-phd ! also let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

main masterlist — the lunar myths masterlist

ONE — Strange Coffee And Stranger People

Out of the two jobs you had, working at a café was one of the highlights of your life. You absolutely loved the café, Zig Zag its name, and the old couple that owned it. The café was bright and bubbly, full of pattern and personality. It definitely lived up to its name. You loved working there, you loved meeting the kind people who would wander in to try the weird and wondrous things on the menu – their stories never failing to interest you.

Zig Zag was located in a quieter part of the city, its usual customers were older, who sat in the seats and liked to just talk to you, or your co-workers. The café did attract all ages; however, people from all over. You had just switched to working the till when he walked through the oddly shaped door.

When you looked up, the bell ringing its strange tune, you knew that you had never seen him before. You were good with faces, and you had never seen his before. It seemed to be raining outside – you hadn’t noticed – because as he shook his head, you could see how wet his curly black hair was. He stepped further into the café, walking straight up to the counter, not taking his eyes off of his phone.

Has he been in before?

You were confused, he didn’t look even remotely shocked or interested by the shocking décor and oddly shaped furniture. Unlike how new people usually are. He wore a leather jacket, one hand – the left side – was stuffed into the jacket’s pocket. You could see a silver shine around his wrist.

Are those… handcuffs?

“Hello and welcome to Zig Zag! How may I help you?” You asked how you were supposed to. At the first sound of your voice, his head snapped up; his eyes meeting yours. You would’ve gasped in surprise, but it happened so quick you weren’t sure if you had imagined it. Imagined the swirl of green in his eyes before they returned to their natural, you assumed, dark colour. Your gazes snapped to each other for a while. You weren’t sure how long exactly, but the two of you only snapped out of it when the lady behind him cleared her throat. He turned to look at the woman, not really moving his body from facing you, before clearing his own throat.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to look at you.

He looked back down to his phone. From your brief glimpse of his screen, you could see the name of one of the café’s drinks.

“An Impresso Expresso Hug Mug with Lava Java and a Tall, Dark and Creamy Molten Jar? Please?” He questioned, reading straight from his phone.

You nod with a smile, “sure thing! Comin’ right up!” and bent down to grab a Hug Mug. The lady behind him cleared her throat again as you popped back up, grabbing your attention. She was a regular of the café, you knew her well.

“Could I ask for two more of your Effervescent Straws?” She asked kindly. You nodded, but from the corner of your eye, you could see him stiffen and close his eyes – in annoyance? – as she affectionately patted your check before walking back to her table.

You turned back to him, pen in hand. “Staying in or taking away?” you asked.

“To go,” was his answer. You nodded.

“Okay, what’s your name?” The question was innocent, but the way his eyes narrowed slightly made you feel a bit, well, weird. It was a few seconds before he replied.

“Sehun.”

With this new knowledge, you quickly wrote his name on the Hug Mug To Go and the Not So Melting Molten Jar. They were slightly different than the glasses the in-café drinks were served in, environment-friendly and easy to throw away, but they were still the same shape. Usually, you would strike up a conversation with your customers but the way Sehunwas looking, staring, right at you threw you off balance. You weren’t entirely sure this man was all good. Your gut felt something off.

You poured the hot drinks into their respective holders – the deep and wide heart-shaped Hug Mug and the tall cone-shaped Molten Jar – placing them into the café’s specially designed drink holder bag, curtesy of Mr Jung, with his name of it. Without taking notice, you had slipped your staff card into the bag as well. It was something all the staff did – telling the customer just who had served them and giving them a voucher as an incentive to come back. It only had your name and picture on it, but it was still information you’d forgot you gave out to strangers.

“Here you go. Have a nice day!” You finished with a small smile, your eyes locking with his once again. When he grabbed the bag, his fingers grazed your own. You were stunned – only a little! – at just how warm they were for how cold and wet it must be outside, but the thought didn’t last long when he turned his back and practically ran out of the café.

You were busy tending to the next customer, but the sound of a motorcycle caught your attention and believe it or not when you looked out the window you swore he was looking back from atop the bike before it sped off.

Maybe you were just going crazy.

You shook your head slightly, as if shaking the thought away, and smiled brightly at the customer in front of you.

“Hello and welcome to Zig Zag! How may I serve you?”

••:۞:••

“So you found your mate?”

Sehun nodded. Well, as best as he could while, he laid face down on the couch.

“And you ran away from her?”

A groan.

“After staring her down the entire time, you were near her?”

Another groan.

“Also, why were you, handcuffed?”

Sehun groaned once more, flipping over onto his back before sitting up to face three older members of the pack. Baekhyun, Luhan and Minah sat around him sipping on their own drinks. It was Baekhyun who had sent Sehun out to get the drinks in the first place – his mischievous eyes sparkled when Sehun had come home with a somewhat pained expression. He clutched the heart-shaped mug in his hands, cuddling a couch cushion as the three of them interrogated the youngest.

Minah, who was sipping from a glass of wine, rose an eyebrow. “Yeah. Sehun, why are you, handcuffed?” It wasn’t wrong of them to be curious, but Sehun didn’t exactly want to talk about his small situation with handcuffs. He wanted, no needed, to know how to approach you again – how to integrate you into his life without coming on too strong.

He knew he had missed something when he walked into the café Baekhyun had dragged him to the other day. The air smelt sweeter. He had put it to the baking in the back of the shop – vanilla cinnamon rolls – but once he heard you, your voice, everything made sense. And he was stupid for not noticing before.

However, during the brief time he was with you at the café that day, he did notice several things. He noticed the colour of your hair, – a reddish-brown… auburn? – the length, – long, almost to your waist – the style. He noticed your fringe, a little longer and it’d be in your eyes. He noticed the summer dress you were wearing, despite it pouring with rain and the rose-tinted heart-shaped glasses that sat on your nose. He noticed that you smelt so strongly of vanilla and cinnamon but the underlying scent of rose and honey filtered through to his nose.

He took note of the tone of your voice. It wasn’t bell-like like he had imagined his mates voice to sound like from the stories he heard as a boy. Yet it wasn’t gruff. He couldn’t imagine it being anything other than what it was, and he decided – in his head – that he could listen to you speak for hours and hours on end.

“What am I going to do?” He whined, falling into the couch face first once again.

“Well, we can always talk to h-“ Baekhyun was cut off as Sehun shot up from the couch to glare at him.

“No.” Sehun didn’t have anything against his brothers (and sisters) but the thought of his mate, his mate, getting to know anyone before him was like a wolfsbane-laced knife right to the gut.

Baekhyun seemed to understand because he didn’t push. “Or we could watch her for you-”

“Don’t stalk my mate.” Sehun cut him off once again, grumbling, before settling back down into the couch. He would figure it out – he would – but he had to grovel first, being the dramatic wolf that he was. However, as he plonked his face back into the cushions, he missed the sly smirk that graced Baekhyun’s lips as he stood and left the room.

“Okay, but why are you in handcuffs?!” Minah exclaimed.

••:۞:••

Your second job was always exciting. You worked night shifts at a bar – the Kim Family Bar – near your apartment, only a short walk away, and it was never over packed. It was classic and continuously smelled like a case of liquor had been spilt (it probably had) and the customers could get quite rowdy, but you liked it nonetheless. If your days were quirky, your nights were thought-provoking, to put it nicely.

You didn’t work every night, this job was only part-time after all, but you did enjoy it. You enjoyed being busy, it didn’t leave you to overthink about things.

“Here you go, Mr Lim.” You grinned at the middle-aged man who was a familiar face at the bar. He gave you a small smile back as you slid over his usual order of a whiskey-on-the-rocks. A few weeks back, you had learnt that his wife was cheating on him, with another woman, and now he was back with a story of how the divorce filing was going. You liked Mr Lim, he had a kind smile, but you always felt a pang of sadness whenever you saw him in the bar.

Tonight, something different happened. As you finished up your shift, your co-worker Jinyoung coming to take over, a fight broke out outside. You could see several men on motorbikes (really fancy ones that you always thought looked trashy) and several more men in front of them brawling in the middle of the street.

You rolled your eyes, shifting your camel-coloured faux-fur-lined jacket closer over your body. It was a cold night, as it usually was, but at least it wasn’t raining. Your boss, Mrs Kim, always allowed you to wear your own clothes during your shift, as long as the colour scheme and theme of the bar was adhered to. So, you paired with your black high-waisted skinny jeans (with rips at the knees - you knew of style trends) with an off-shoulder red cropped top. It covered your torso enough to not be inappropriate, but it worked with the bar’s image. Though, you usually misjudged how cold it could get. At least you didn’t have to wear flimsy high heels. You had to walk past the fighting cluster of men to get home, whichever way you walked, so you sighed and just started walking.

You could take care of yourself.

Within a few minutes of walking, you felt something off. Maybe it was your paranoid brain playing tricks, but you could swear you heard footsteps. You slowed down your pace slightly, coming to a stop as you bent down to ‘tie your shoelaces.’ While on the floor, you turned your head slightly, looking behind you.

You were right – two figures dashed out of sight as if they could see you looking. Being a naturally cautious person, you knew you wouldn’t go home with people following you – certainly not when Euina would be waiting. So, making up your mind, you took a sharp right and cut into an alleyway. You knew these streets, you had lived on them for well over twelve years, and you knew where the best hiding spaces were.

Soon enough, those two figures made their way into the alley, walking further than you had stopped to hide. You couldn’t hear them entirely, but you did make out a few words. “Sehun,” “kill us” and “lost her.” You stopped in your tracks slightly.

Sehun? As in the man from the café a few days ago? Did he have a problem with me or something? You shook the feeling from your body and removed yourself from your little hide-out, fleeting the other way in the hopes of losing them. That hope was short-lived.

“There she is!” A man’s voice exclaimed, almost… excitedly? You didn’t want to know why. Soon enough, the two of them had caught up, and before they could lay a hand on you, you knew what you had to do to get rid of them.

You whirled around to face them, it must have shocked them because the blonde-haired one’s eyes widened, and as you sent a not-so-light kick to his chest, he stumbled back. You didn’t want to wait for the other to attack you first. They were both obviously more durable than you, so you went first.

You sent three punches to the silver-haired one’s jaw – because he was too tall to clock on the cheek without stretching too much – and as the blonde one caught his footing you sent another kick his way, watching as he fell to the floor. You ducked under the tall one’s arm, ignoring the words coming out of their mouths, and decided on the move that would floor him too. Maybe it wasn’t the best of moves, but it was one of the only ones that would work with your height difference. You jumped slightly and wrapped your legs around his waist, twisting your own and tipping his balance. You didn’t fall to the floor with him as you unhooked yourself just as fast and flipped away from them.

Then, you ran.

“Chanyeol?” Groaned Baekhyun from the floor.

“Yeah?”

“Let's not tell anyone about this.”

“Agreed.”

They would never hear the end of it from the pack and Sehun would definitely kill them, and they were both too young and pretty for that.

How was that? Any good? Tell me what you think!

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

More jealous reader please?? I absolutely loved that one and honestly will never stop re-blogging it

“I like her…”

Um…excuse me. What in the name of Niðavellir is that smirk about?

That scientist woman had slapped him across the face and granted, you’d laughed—he deserved it. But then he said he likes her, giving her that amused little smirk, that slow, deliberate blink…

Now he’s staring down at her and she won’t look away, huffing a strand of hair out of her face; who does she think she is?

Um, only you get to slap him. That’s one of the perks of being his lover.

Thor’s dragged his brother off with the handsy little midgardian trailing behind before you have a chance to butt in on the interaction. You call out to him, stepping out from the doorway you had been watching from, but it’s too late and the little group is out of sight, Loki still in those damned cuffs.

Oh well…you’ll have an earful for him when he gets home.

It takes a few days.

Yes, days, which is absolutely infuriating, knowing Loki is off doing god knows what and probably in much too close proximity of that girl—Jane, you’d found out she calls herself.

Good thing he likes her. Let’s see if he still likes you, since he seems to have forgotten that you’re waiting here for him.

So when he eventually stumbles back through the door to your chambers one cold Asgardian night, you’re relieved, to say the least, but not exactly happy.

You’re lounging on the couch next to a cackling fire and may or may not have dressed up a bit more than usual, but that’s beside the point.

He hadn’t even bothered to look back at you when he had left. No reassuring smirk, no wink to convince you he still has the upper hand, no sweeping kiss to linger in his absence.

Nothing.

“Oh. So you’ve decided to come back after all.” You don’t look up from your book, draping a hand on your hip.

“I’m sorry, darling, my brother…” he trails off as he undoes the first strap of leathered armour, his eyes falling on you as if for the first time.

Something is off about you. You haven’t looked at him since he’s walked in, laying across the couch with your head propped up on your hand, and you seem to have put on some kind of gown; something nearly sheer and effervescent but made of a dark fabric, catching in the rays of moonlight streaming through the curtains.

It looks soft. Heavenly soft.

“Might I ask what the occasion is?” He expected you to be upset, it’s only natural, he had been dragged off—handcuffed—into space by his oaf of a brother without so much as saying goodbye to you. But you haven’t said anything, asked anything, you’re just laying there looking sinfully tempting with the slit of the gown dashing up to your hip—not at all the sight he expected to come home to.

Your eyes flit up from the pages to meet his with a sweet smile. “Your homecoming, I suppose.” You swing your legs off the couch and snap the book shut, sauntering across the room to a bookshelf in the corner of the room, turning your back to him. “Welcome home, Loki.”

The gown falls in a low arch down your back. Draped around your neck he can see a thin gold chain, nearly invisible but catching in the moonlight, and Loki can’t help the smug smile tugging at his lips—you had missed him.

“Take your quarrels up with my brother,” he calls over his shoulder, turning his back to you as well and stalking to the walk-in closet. “This was entirely his doing.”

You hear more belts unlatching, the clatter of multiple knives dropped on a dresser-top, the rustling of leather and clinking of metal, and you convince yourself not to turn around. “Quarrels? Loki,” you laugh, skimming a finger along the spine of an unread book, “I have no quarrels. I’m happy you’re home.”

The emerald set in the centre of the tiny gold sun seems colder than usual against your collarbone.

“Don’t lie to me, darling.” You hear him sigh and there’s a thud as he shuts a drawer with a touch more force than normal. “It insults me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Look, you’ve just done it again.” He sounds amused, almost wanting to laugh; the fact that you can hear that sets your blood boiling.

You’re about to turn on your heel and let him have it for leaving you and laughing when the necklace tightens around your throat; Loki is suddenly behind you, breathing down your neck, and has a finger hooked under the chain of the necklace.

“Did you forget to take this off?”

A shiver wracks your body and you swallow thickly. “No, I left it on on purpose. I didn’t know if-when you were coming back.”

“You have no need for it now.” Deft fingers undo the clasp and carefully tug the chain from around your neck, and Loki dips his head down to ghost his lips up the curve of your neck. “I’m home, aren’t I?”

His hands float up to rest on your hips, slowly pulling you back against him. The gold necklace has been resting heavy these past few days. “A sun,” he had murmured as he reached around you to put it on you for the first time, “for the light of my darkened world.”

There’s fragments of an actual star housed under the emerald in the centre, fitting in a gift from a god. “Wear this if you ever feel apart from me.” He had latched it and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “You’ll never be alone, these stars shine only for us.”

A beautifully sweet, eloquent sentiment, not unlike your lover, but it’s gradually gathered more of a negative connotation whenever you wear it. You only wear it when he’s gone or you feel separated: the last time you wore it, he had been gone for months and you almost gave up hope for him to ever return to you.

So to see you wearing it now, after only being gone a few measly days…a hint of pride worms it’s way into Loki’s heart.

Being missed certainly feels…validating.

“I was only gone a few days,” he chuckles, cool breath tickling the nape of your neck. “I must have more of a hold on your heart than I realise.”

You lean away from him and turn around, glaring coldly up at him. “You hold my entire heart, idiot. And I’d appreciate if you took better care of it.”

“How might I do that?”

“Maybe not go running off into space with random women for days on end?” You cross your arms around yourself and push past him with a scowl. “Just a suggestion.”

Loki laughs, a cold, amused grin on his face. “Ah yes…Jane. That’s what this is about.” He stalks across the room to the closet where you are pretending to be interested in the daggers he had left on the dresser. “She’s quite intelligent, actually. That was a pleasant surprise.”

Why does he think you care??

“…but she was rather too dull for my taste,” he continues, waiting for you to turn around. You don’t give him the pleasure and he realises you aren’t going to, so he steps up against you with a sigh, pressing himself against your back and leaning with two arms on either side of you bracing him on the dresser.

“Good for my brother, I suppose, but I prefer my partners to be more…” he leans forward, nipping at your ear and eliciting a surprised squeak from you. “Adventurous.”

The closet door slams shut of its own accord.

The god buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply. “I missed you,” he promises, voice muffled. “I thought of you every single day. I…craved you.”

He’s moving now, making your brain draw a blank when he spins you around and has you pinned against the dresser in a manner of seconds, his body pressed to yours.

“Every minute, every second I was away from you, I missed you.”

You almost scoff, but then he kisses you and you can’t help but believe it. It’s the kiss of a starving man, desperate for your touch again but laced with a desire to…almost impress you, you think.

“You don’t believe me,” he whispers when he finally pulls away for a breath, hands coming up to cradle your face.

“No, I—of course I do.” Flashing him a sure smile, you wind your arms around his neck and pull him back into another searing kiss. “I trust you, Loki.”

He quietly hums into your lips for a moment, letting you dictate the depth of the kiss before pulling away with a loud smack. “You’re lying to me again,” he grins. “We’ve discussed this.”

You immediately open your mouth to tell him that you’re not lying, that you do trust him—because you do! It is the truth! It might be hiding under a comfy blanket of envy, though: he does like her, after all. But Loki stops you before you can get a word out with a long finger to your lips, shushing you with a knowing smile.

“Don’t do it again.” The warning in his voice sends a chill down your spine—a wonderful, addicting chill that you’ve missed. “I can prove it to you, if that’s what it will take.”

“L-Loki, what are you—”

He’s reached around you for one of the knives discarded on the shelf behind you, now slowly dragging the tip of it up the front of your gown in one sure swipe, ripping the fabric clean in two.

“What a shame,” he sighs, looking you up and down. You stare down at your ruined dress in shock and he places the flat edge of the knife under your chin, carefully tipping your head up to look at him.

His lips just barely meet yours this time, teasingly close but yet so horribly far, and the metal of the knife is cold under your chin. Clearly, your trust in him is true: you’re letting him hold a knife to your throat—and you think you might like it.

“I like this dress,” you halfheartedly hiss at him, shuddering when his cold hand slips under your now-open gown.

“I apologise…but I like you.” His open mouth plants a heated trail up the curve of your neck and you try everything in your power not to melt just yet.

Loki notices your struggle and smiles into your skin. “Such a beautiful dress will be dearly missed.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01

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247krp · 7 years

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— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Oh Yijoo, spotted prancing about in the Southwest Side. I remember seeing her with The Empire back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say exuberant and cunning? Apparently now she spends time as a news anchor and TV presenter, and keeps skeletons buried at Prague Tower, 702. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Sunshine Barbie; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

With her willowy physique and chiseled features, eyes followed Oh Yijoo wherever she went. Life was a breezy walk in the park for her. She always get what she wanted; things fell on her laps even when she didn’t ask for them. There were other people like her— beautiful, charming and cunning beyond their years. They were known as The Empire. At one point, everyone worshipped the grounds they walked on.

She was ambitious for the spotlight, and the position of news anchor suited someone like her. So when her classmates busily crammed for exams or schemed to buy their ways into prestigious universities, she was perfecting news reporting and interviewing skills, with the help of several top professionals. Not to mention, with her father and brothers all being Korea University alumni, there was already a seat reserved for her.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

You must have seen her. She is the news anchor on your television at 7PM every night. Her eloquence and composure at the news desk, as well as her winning smile that garnered her the title of Miss Korea Mi in 2013, quickly catapulted her to fame. Oh Yijoo, the most popular news anchor in the nation, the number one female that girls in 20s aspire to be, the perfect daughter-in-law that mothers want to have.

Rumor has it that she will soon become the news anchor for the 9PM prime time news. Not only that, she is also ambitiously expanding her territory out of the newsroom; already has hosted several lifestyle and entertainment talk shows, talking face to face with many big names that some can only dream of meeting. Some are saying it’s all because she’s part of the 1%, which Yijoo won’t deny, she did pull some strings to get where she is. She is smart and talented and knows how to take advantage of the opportunities and resources that come her way. Anyone in her shoes would’ve done the same thing, she believes.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

♥︎ — hearts govern the first period of our lives and the first season of the year – spring. family, love, home, relationships, emotions, and children all fall under the domain of hearts.

With three older brothers in line for the throne of the media empire that her father builds, she’s made aware of the role she plays early on— a darling princess who captivates people with her effervescent presence, nothing more.

Clad in a red chiffon dress tailored for her by the designer, she glides through the lush garden with poise beyond her years. Heads turning as she makes her way to the center, where an imposing middle-aged gentleman stands along with an elegant woman and three dashing young men. Giving her father a kiss on the cheek, she takes her place next to her third brother Kihoon, linking her slender arm with his, completing the perfect family portrait for the world to see.

As her father addresses the smartly-dressed crowd gathered in the family estate with a speech, she turns slightly to smile at her parents and siblings. At one point, the man shares that behind a successful man is a loving and supportive family, and he’s so pleased that his wonderful family can all stand with him here today. The patriarch then grabs his wife’s and the eldest son’s hands. Big smiles plaster on their faces, but if one observes closely enough, they can see the young male’s subtle uneasiness. Though everyone is overjoyed by the occasion to notice that, only she sees it. His eyes shifts and locks with hers.

Are you alright? She mouths.

He nods, giving her a reassuring smile.

Though both of them know he feels like a misplaced puzzle piece that doesn’t belong in here.

♣︎ — clubs govern the period of life after childhood when we are sent off to school every day. it is the second season of the year and represents the summertime of life.

Crisp late summer air wafts through the field, cooling the earth after months of searing heat. Changing of the season reflects the vibe between them. Placid but thick with subsequent tension from the conflict.

The bell rings when she pushes the cadet blue double doors open, students in pristine uniforms spill out of classrooms, flocking into the corridor. She trudges toward a wall of lockers, leaning against the cold metal surface to heave out a breath.

“Hey,” A silvery voice reaches her voice. “where were you? Did you skip?” Her best friend asks as she unlocks the locker and tosses books inside.

“I was in the infirmary. Cramp.” Yijoo pouts, rubbing her abdomen. The girl throws a sympathizing glance at her.

Yijoo’s expression changes when a familiar face passes them. She chews on her bottom lip, trying to contain the irritation bubbling up inside.

How dare she walks around with her head high, not feeling one bit remorseful and ashamed of the sin she committed! It’s true that they each have a part in the crumbling of The Empire, but what the girl did is most unforgivable.

She kneaded her temples with fingertips, following her friend to the table they usually sit at during lunch time. “Ouch!” She yelps, colliding into the other girl when she stops dead in her track.

Here he is in the company of several classmates. Eating and joking merrily as if nothing happened. Yijoo rolls her eyes at the sheer audacity that she witnesses in the span of minutes.

“Let’s go to the courtyard.” Her friend says quietly, turning on her heels. Yijoo sighs, shooting a look of disdain at him before she stalks off.

As soon as the two girls are out of earshot, spectators eagerly whisper to each other about what just happened in the cafeteria. So the rumor is true, the invincible and untouchable quartet is breaking apart.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

♠︎ — spades is the suit of wisdom and wisdom can only be obtained through experience. though a clubs may have wealth of knowledge, their knowledge is, by definition, inferior to wisdom.

“Never show your face in front of me, your mother, brothers, and sister again. I don’t want to hear a word about you. From this day onward, your surname doesn’t mean anything, you are no longer an heir to my fortune.”

She perches by the doorframe, watching Kijoon silently packs few clothes, books and other items into a duffle bag. “Oppa…I’m sorry…” She says, her voice hoarse and thin. He zips the bag up, glances his room one more time before he walks toward the door.

“Oppa.” She calls out again. This time, he responds by spreading his arms out. Yijoo hug his lean frame tightly, tears streams down her cheeks. “I’m going to explain everything to dad! It’s not your fault, I’m the one who deserves the punishment!” She cries, then pulls back, intending to find her father and rights the wrong.

Kijoon tugs her back, calloused fingers ruffling her hair. “It’s not your fault, Joo. Don’t ever think like that. I was fully aware of the consequences when I did it. You always know how unhappy I’m here, don’t you? I’m not cut out for this world, I won’t ever live up to dad’s expectation.” He bends down to be on the same level as her head, taking a good look at the only person he genuinely cares about in this house.

“It’s the best for everyone. Kiseok is far better suited to take over dad’s business. My position is not here, it’s somewhere out there.”

She knows he’s absolutely right. She even has wished for him to escapes the confine of this gilded mansion before. So he can go to a place where he isn’t suffocated by the weight of the crown on his head, to a place where he can simply be a man named Oh Kijoon, not Oh Kijoon the heir of Wooseung Media Corp. But now that it is really happening, she doesn’t want him to go. She can’t picture what it’d be like without him by her side. It’s always been him and her against the world, who is she going to rely on now?

♦︎ — diamonds represent the harvest season, both in the year and in our life. it is the suit of values and accumulation of value, material or otherwise, but too often the “otherwise” is overlooked.

“Do you think the title of Miss Korea Mi is the reason of your success as a news anchor?” The interviewer asks pointedly.

The underlying implication of the question doesn’t escape her. He’s really saying that she is only popular because she is easy on the eyes. It’s astonishing that this is the editor of a magazine with a major female readership.

All of his questions are monotonous and shallow, utterly incompetent at the job. He mistakes one of her experiences as an MC for Music Bank instead of The Entertainment Weekly; doesn’t know the most basic information about her ( “Oh, your major actually was journalism?” ), which he can easily search up on the internet. And the snarky little comments he slips in between the conversation doesn’t hide his contempt toward her.

Yijoo’s smiles, masking her vexation as contemplates the response to the highly subjective question.

“How often do you see a woman and recognizes that she’s a Miss Korea right away? That doesn’t happen unless you have the knowledge beforehand, right? Not to mention I’m only one of the four semi-finalists, so it’s actually more common when most people don’t know that about me.” It’s amazing that the smile never falters once. “Rather than being the factor to my success, it’s more of a bonus. People have positive impression of Miss Korea, so when they find out that I was Miss Korea Mi, it helps them to view me in a more positive light. Though ultimately, it’s my ability and hard-work that makes me a successful anchorwoman.”

I don’t just sit there and smile prettily for the camera, you misogyny asshole!

When the horrendous interview finally wraps up, he reaches out for a handshake, Yijoo complies graciously, though she definitely will have to disinfect her hand thoroughly after this.

“It’s a pleasure to chat with you.”

“Likewise. Though may I give you a little advice?”

He nods with a sneer. Swiftly, she leans in a little too close for comfort, whispers in his ear as he freezes on spot. “It might be worthwhile to do homework before the interview.” She pulls back, smirking at him. “Because then you’d know that I do in fact have a journalism degree from the Korea University. Also, you’ll find out that I’m the daughter of Oh Youngwoo, Chairman of Wooseung Media Corp., which I believe owns the publishing house of the magazine you work for.

She puts his business card back inside his shirt pocket. “Good luck. I think you need it.”

#247: accepted

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