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skz-streamer · 9 months

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Cheeks

Pairing: Jisung (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: just brain rot fluff :)

Notes: Okayyyy so this wasnt exsactly an ask directed to mee but I was scrolling on my lovely moots page @seo--changbin and saw this post so ovi i had to write something 🙄🤭

Summary: Dinner with Han and the boys is always memorable, I mean who can forget Han's cute cheeks?!?

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count ~1.3k ;)

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The restaurant buzzed with laughter and chatter as you and the boys gathered around a cozy corner table. Tonight, you were dining at your favorite spot, and the atmosphere was filled with warmth and friendship. You found yourself seated next to Jisung, and your heart fluttered with affection as you exchanged a subtle smile.

As the night went on, the conversation flowed effortlessly. The boys talked about everything from their recent performances to funny memories from earlier the week. Amidst the banter, you noticed Jisung occasionally getting caught up in the excitement of shared stories.

Without even thinking, you reached for a spoonful of his favorite dish and gently offered it to him. Jisung blinked in surprise but accepted with a smile, his cheeks puffing up adorably like a chipmunk. It was an unconscious gesture, an act of affection that came naturally to you whenever you saw him engrossed in something.

The other members around the table couldn't help but notice the sweet exchange and their eyes sparkled with amusement. Changbin, ever the playful one, chuckled and teased, "Hey, y/nah, are you his chef now?"

You blushed, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and endearment. "Oh, I-I didn't even realize I was doing it," you stammered, trying to hide your shy smile.

"It's cute," Felix chimed in, giving you both a thumbs-up. "You two are like a cute couple!"

Seungmin and Hyunjin joined in the teasing, calling you "the feeding fairy" and "Jisung's favorite cook," which only made Jisung's cheeks turn even rosier. But amidst the playful banter, you could see the warmth in their eyes, appreciating the genuine connection between you and Jisung.

Jisung, however, seemed to revel in the attention, shooting you a grateful look. "Well, I'm lucky to have someone who cares about me," he said, a touch of affection in his voice.

Throughout the dinner, the playful teasing continued, but it only made you and Jisung feel closer. Every time you noticed him getting caught up in the conversation, your hand would unconsciously reach out to feed him, and he would eat the food you offered with a smile.

The dinner progressed with moments of joy and camaraderie. The boys shared stories, laughed together, and bonded over the simple pleasure of being in each other's company. All the while, you continued to absentmindedly feed Jisung, a gesture that felt as natural as breathing.

As the night wore on, the table was filled with laughter, and you found yourself lost in the comfort of their company. Time seemed to slip away, and soon, the evening was drawing to a close.

Jisung nudged you playfully, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Hey, y/n, did you save me any of that delicious dish?"

You grinned, realizing that you had been so engrossed in the conversation that you forgot to eat yourself. "Oops, sorry, Jisungie," you said, picking up your spoon and scooping a fresh serving of the dish for him. "Here you go."

He chuckled, taking the offered spoonful and eating it with a satisfied sigh. "Thanks, you're the best," he said, giving you a wink.

The warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but blush. Feeding Jisung had become such a natural and affectionate act, one that spoke volumes about the bond you two shared.

As the night progressed, you found yourself lost in the enchanting atmosphere of the dinner. The restaurant's soft lighting, the laughter of your friends, and the gentle touches exchanged between you and Jisung created an ambiance that felt like a dream.

With every tender gesture, you felt the affection between you two growing stronger. Jisung's eyes would meet yours in an unspoken language of love, and a small smile would form on his lips every time you fed him.

It wasn't just about the food; it was about the connection—the intimacy of sharing a moment that only you two understood amidst the laughter and chatter of the group.

The other members also noticed the affectionate exchanges between you and Jisung, and they couldn't help but find it heartwarming. Felix leaned over and whispered, "You two are adorable. It's like you have your little world there."

You chuckled softly, glancing at Jisung, who was engaged in a conversation with Changbin. "It feels natural, you know? Feeding him is like an instinct," you replied.

Seungmin nodded, teasing a little. "You both are like a cute old couple."

As the night drew to a close, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. The dinner had been filled with laughter, affection, and heartfelt connections. You were grateful for the love and brotherhood that the boys shared, and above all, you were grateful for the love you and Jisung had discovered in the simplest of gestures.

As you all bid farewell and left the restaurant, the cool night air greeted you, and you walked hand in hand with Jisung, savoring the moment. The stars twinkled above, and you felt like the luckiest person in the world to have such a wonderful group of friends and to have found someone like Jisung who brought so much joy into your life.

"You know," Jisung said, breaking the silence, "tonight was special."

You looked at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "It was, wasn't it? I had the best time."

He chuckled, his eyes shining with affection. "Me too. And thanks for taking care of me during dinner. It means a lot to me."

"It's my pleasure," you replied, squeezing his hand gently. "I love taking care of you."

His cheeks turned pink, and he glanced away bashfully. "Well, I love it too," he admitted, his voice a little shy.

The night breeze caressed your cheeks, and you felt a surge of happiness that you couldn't contain. Jisung, sensing your excitement, pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist. His touch sent a delightful shiver down your spine, and you snuggled into his embrace, feeling a sense of warmth and security enveloping you.

"Let's do this again sometime," Jisung said, his voice soft and tender.

"I'd love that," you replied, your heart swelling with joy. "Every moment with you is special."

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I feel the same way."

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

As the night continued, you and Jisung strolled hand in hand, enjoying the tranquil beauty of the city lights. The energy and excitement from dinner lingered, and you both felt an unspoken desire to extend the night.

"I don't want this evening to end just yet," Jisung whispered, pulling you closer.

You smiled, loving the idea of more time together. "Me neither. What do you have in mind?"

He grinned mischievously. "How about we go for round two? Let's grab a drink at that cozy cafe we love."

The suggestion brought a playful glint to your eyes. "Sure, but only if you promise not to get too hyper."

"I promise," Jisung replied with a chuckle. "One drink and I'll behave."

You walked hand in hand to the nearby cafe, finding solace in the comforting warmth and dim lighting. The ambiance was perfect for a quiet conversation, and you settled into a corner booth.

As you sipped on your drinks, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything and nothing—sharing dreams, recounting funny moments, and basking in each other's company. Time seemed to slow down, allowing you both to enjoy every moment.

As the night deepened, a sense of peace settled over you both. You rested your head on Jisung's shoulder, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. In the soft glow of the cafe, his eyes locked with yours, and you felt a rush of affection wash over you.

"I'm glad we had this second round," Jisung murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"Me too," you replied, your heart swelling with love. "I could spend forever with you like this."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in, pressing a soft, tender kiss on your lips. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you at that moment.

As you pulled back, a sweet smile graced his lips. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart brimming with happiness.

Permanent tag list: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @ot8skz-wifey @ren0325

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evermourning · 7 months

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𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 - lee felix

pairing: lee felix x reader (bewitched series pt. 3)

wc: 1.1k

genre: long distance, fluff, comfort, slice of life, non idol!au, vacation romance trope

warnings: language, pet names (honeybun, baby, babe, beautiful, sweetheart), just like soft love <3

a/n: i know absolutely nothing about flowers

there was absolutely no fucking way you had a boyfriend now.

not only that, he was drop dead gorgeous? you practically had to restrain yourself from screeching whenever he sent selfies of his sun-kissed skin, covered in freckles and his adorable lips turned upwards into a warm smile. you just wanted to tangle your hands in his wispy blonde hair and play with it for eternity.

what was even wilder to you was that this gorgeous specimen of a man noticed you. he actively gave his all to you in your relationship, regardless of the ocean between you.

you could remember meeting him like it was yesterday.

you were on vacation in australia for the summer. the beaches were lovely, but what you truly loved most was the gardens. there was one by your hotel, filled with flowers of all vibrances, colors, sizes, you name it.

while traipsing through the alluring garden one sunny saturday morning, you knelt down to admire a bed of multicolored flowers.

"are those primroses?"

you turned and made eye contact with the most handsome boy you'd ever laid your eyes on. his deep chocolate eyes were just as rich and velvety as his voice, which bore fathomless undertones. it was making you unreasonably flustered, too.

"yeah, they are...i think." you said, stumbling over your words. he simply chuckled, crouching down next to you. "they really are beautiful. did you know they actually have healing properties?"

looking back, you now realized how serenely ironic this was, as he ended up being the one who healed you, piece by piece.

"can i be honest? i know absolutely nothing about botany." he said sheepishly. "i just thought your beauty was breathtaking and wanted to shoot my shot.."

"would you like to walk with me? my name's felix." he said, outstretching a small hand for you to shake. you nodded. there was something about him that was so calming. he felt like the eye of the hurricane, the light at the end of the tunnel.

the rest of that summer you two spent falling in love.

however, on your final day, he didn't say goodbye. he just held you in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"shhh...don't cry, beautiful." he'd murmured. "we'll make long distance work. i promise."

and this is where it came to now. you flopped into bed, pulling out your phone, eagerly awaiting an incoming call from your loving boyfriend.

when he finally did call, you picked up so quickly, lighting up at the sight of his smiling face.

"hi, sweetheart!" he beamed. "how was your day? tell me all about it."

as you began talking animatedly, you noted how felix's smile slowly got wider, and his cheeks rosier.

"-my friends keep telling me i'm practically skipping down the street these days! those idiots just don't get it, i swear." you rambled.

"well, if they're being rude about it, i'll beat them up. nobody talks to my honeybun like that."

"please never say that again." you said with mock exasperation, eliciting a small giggle from felix. he smushed his face into the pillow to hide the blossoming shades of pink on his freckly cheeks.

"why? can't i show you my love?" he asked, pouting. "god, i miss laying beside you. now we just have to sleep on call. it's not the same!"

"i know..." you laughed, sighing. "next time you're on break from university, let me know, okay? i'll try and book a flight to you."

instead of being met with an ecstatic "yes, please!" from felix, the sound of soft snores and breathing came from your phone speaker. you looked at him, and fought an adoring smile as you looked at his sleeping figure. his face was half-pressed into the pillow, his blonde hair messy. he looked so snug under his comforter, you couldn't help but just stare...

the numbers on your clock read exactly 3:30am, and although you were tired, nothing could prevent this feeling in your heart. it was like a rose, beautifully blossoming in hues of deep red and burgundy, overtaking every nook and cranny of your anatomy.

while your loverboy slept, no doubt dreaming of you, you stared at him. so close, yet so far. falling for him and his antics with every passing second.

...

you sat in front of your birthday cake, its candles lit and shining, taking a deep breath before blowing them out.

"what did you wish for?" your mother asked, a suspiciously sly smile on her lips.

"i just wished that lix could be here to celebrate with me...we've been talking a lot this week and i just really miss him." you said, a bit poignantly. your mother laughed sympathetically, patting your shoulder.

as you walked out towards the porch, somebody grabbed your hand and pulled you towards them. you made eye contact with the same pair of deep umber eyes that you saw so many months ago. there stood felix, a pink bouquet in his hand and the toothiest smile ever. you squealed with delight as you hugged him tightly, giving him a loving kiss.

"i forgot how gorgeous you are in person," felix giggled, kissing your cheek. "everyday i just think about how blessed i am that you love me. oh! look at this bouquet i got you." he handed it to you.

"there's like three different types of flowers in here, babe. i'm not a botanist." you laughed.

"well, i just searched up flower language on the internet. these are baby's breath, they symbolize everlasting love. and these are pink camellias! they're supposed to be for like- longing, you know? cause i missed you so much." you didn't think felix had stopped smiling that entire time. "and...i'm sure that you know these ones."

you squinted, trying to figure out what type of flower they were...then it clicked.

"oh my god, are these primroses?" you asked, feeling your cheeks heating up as felix nodded energetically.

to you, the bouquet of flowers was like a promise. a reminder that no matter how many miles or seas were between you two, your love was still just as strong. it really made you believe that felix was the one.

did this really start as long walks along the beach and late night facetime calls?

it was certainly just so pretty of a thought, wasn't it? one call in the early hours of the day was the wakeup you needed to realize that while he was sound asleep, you were head over heels.

#ren writes!! <3 #evermourning #skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee felix #felix skz #yongbok #yongbok skz #lee yongbok #felix x reader #yongbok x reader #lee felix x reader #bewitched set...entry iii

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carewyncromwell · 3 months

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“It's time to stand up -- stand up! Show me what you're made of! Hands up, hands up! Fight the fear...fight the fear! Rise up from the ground -- Gonna make you a believer!”

~”The Fear” by the Score

x~x~x~x

a sincere thank you to @catohphm, @jackies-ear69, @hphm-jeniferltheman, and @ariparri for brainstorming about MC’s friends’ boggarts with me!

x~x~x~x

The year she took on the task of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Patricia Rakepick soon became many students’ favorite professor. Scholarly sorts like Rowan Khanna appreciated her extensive knowledge of the subject, while more avant-garde sorts like Jae Kim and Nymphadora Tonks liked her dry sense of humor. This didn’t even touch aspiring Cursebreakers Bill Weasley and Merula Snyde, both of whom Rakepick had a pointed interest in and greatly esteemed Rakepick for her skills.

There were students who didn’t take to Rakepick as well as others, though. Ben Copper could never completely relax around Rakepick, thanks in large part to how critically her eye always seemed to fall on him. Even serial rulebreaker Tulip Karasu got bad vibes from Rakepick, suspecting ulterior motives to the professor’s seemingly more kindly actions.

And of course there was the last student Rakepick had taken a targeted liking to, and arguably the strongest liking at that -- Hogwarts’ infamous Cursebreaker, Carewyn Cromwell.

Carewyn had distrusted Rakepick from the moment she first arrived at Hogwarts the previous year to supposedly help deal with the Cursed Vaults, and Carewyn’s opinion hadn’t softened toward Gringotts’s Head Cursebreaker anymore now that she was a professor. Even when Rakepick ended up saving Carewyn from an Imperiused Ben the previous school year, it only served to make Carewyn all the more wary of Rakepick’s intentions. After all, Carewyn couldn’t help but think, how was it that Rakepick caught up with her and Ben so fast, that night? Had she been keeping tabs on her? However concerned Rakepick had seemed for Carewyn, the Cursebreaker still left her, Bill, Charlie, Hagrid, and Torvus to deal with the Forest Vault, rather than going with them or dealing with it herself. Even now that Rakepick was a professor, she kept trying to get Carewyn, Bill, and Merula to work “with her” (read: under her leadership) to reach the next Cursed Vault. Admittedly Carewyn planned on searching for the next Vault and rescuing Jacob with or without help...but she couldn’t help but agree with Tulip that Rakepick clearly had her own motives. The Head Cursebreaker had even said herself that she intended to find the Cursed Vaults and “reveal their secrets” -- therefore Rakepick was mainly interested in retrieving the Vaults’ so-called “treasure”...something Carewyn didn’t give a damn about, in the face of finding and saving her brother.

Carewyn’s distrust of her didn’t seem to bother Rakepick in the slightest, though. If anything, the professor only seemed to expect more from Carewyn and single her out in class more because of it.

Once Rakepick quizzed the entire class on protective wards, only to insist that Carewyn tell her the difference between Protego Diabolica and Protego Horribilis. (Carewyn correctly explained that the first was a Dark curse intended to kill any enemies who tried to cross the boundary, while the second was a strong form of the Shield Charm specifically intended to protect against Dark curses, and Rakepick awarded Slytherin ten points before moving on.)

Another time, when Rakepick brought an entire swarm of pixies for the fifth-year class to defend themselves against, the professor insisted that Carewyn use a spell other than Immobulus, the spell they’d been actively studying, to stop them -- apparently Rakepick knew Carewyn had gotten help with the spell from her ex-Prefect, Felix Rosier, in the past and she thought that the assignment would be too easy for her on its own. (Carewyn responded to the challenge by using Impedimenta to slow down each pixie enough that she could levitate them one by one back into their cage with a Locomotion Charm before closing it -- a solution that brought a satisfied smirk to Rakepick’s face.)

It was therefore no surprise in late October when Rakepick decided to give her fifth-years a proper review on boggarts, the Cursebreaker-turned-professor had Carewyn come up to the front of the class first to deal with the creature.

Carewyn was a bit startled despite herself.

Rakepick’s lips turned up in a smirk.

Carewyn frowned deeply at Rakepick.

“Of course not,” she said with a faint huff.

She glanced over her shoulder at the rest of her class with a grimmer look, her jaw setting as she rose to her feet.

“...I should let you know, though,” she spoke very clearly despite her eyes being averted and her voice being low, “my boggart is You-Know-Who.”

A few of her classmates exchanged glances. Rakepick’s eyebrows raised.

“That is not an uncommon fear, Miss Cromwell,” said the professor.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed a bit without looking up.

“I know,” she said curtly. Her gaze lingered on the desk she’d been sharing with Badeea. “That’s why I want to make sure everyone knows it -- I don’t want to scare them.”

Rakepick’s confident look seemed to darken, becoming a bit grimmer as well. “You won’t have to, Miss Cromwell. The boggart will do a good enough job of that -- your classmates may as well just accept it.”

Carewyn looked up at last, her eyes narrowing a bit more, as Rakepick indicated the box to the side of her desk with a clipped nod.

“You may begin when ready. Though I’d advise you not to keep me waiting -- I only have so much time allotted to me for this lesson.”

Carewyn pursed her lips. Walking purposefully around her and Badeea’s desk, she shot a glance back behind her. Her eyes glided over Rowan, Ben and Charlie quickly before finding Talbott; when Carewyn made eye contact with him, the Ravenclaw straightened up a bit, his hawk-like eyes narrowing a bit upon her face as he nodded.

I’m okay, his look seemed to tell her.

Carewyn inhaled quietly through her nose, giving him a very short nod in return, before she faced the wardrobe, her wand held high.

“...Alohomora.”

With a shriek of the hinges, the box’s lid was thrown open, and a huge, black mass erupted out of it. The huge black cloak was accompanied by skull-white, spider-like hands and the face of a monstrous man -- one tall and pale with heartless red slits for eyes.

A couple of people in the class inhaled sharply despite themselves, seeing the Dark Lord Voldemort standing before their classmate. Rakepick, however, spoke to them with dry reassurance.

“Don’t you, Miss Cromwell?”

Carewyn kept her focus solely on her boggart rather than respond. Raising her wand, she pointed it right at her target and bellowed,

“Riddikulus!”

CRACK.

In an instant, Voldemort was seated at a full dining table of Mrs. Weasley’s home cooking with a red and white checkered napkin comically tied around his neck, looking completely bewildered.

Charlie laughed loudly, but louder still was Barnaby, who actually got up from his seat.

“It’s just like I said!” he said excitedly through his laughter. “It must be impossible for You-Know-Who to enjoy any good food without a nose!”

Others started to laugh too -- even Talbott had to chuckle. Carewyn bit her lip as she grinned in amusement too.

“Quite good, Miss Cromwell,” said Rakepick, very pleased. “All right, now, class, prepare yourselves -- when I call you up, you shall come forth and face your boggart. When you see your fear, think up a way to turn it into something humorous -- then cast Riddikulus to defeat it. Ready now...Mr. Lee!”

Barnaby eagerly scampered around the desk, raising his wand.

“I’m ready for this!” he told Carewyn brightly. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since we went into the Fear Vault...”

Boggart Voldemort shifted his gaze over to Barnaby, his red eyes flashing --

CRACK.

The boggart had become a clown -- a rather menacing, fanged, Voldemort-looking clown, but still a clown.

“Riddikulus!” said Barnaby.

CRACK.

A bucket of water appeared over the demonic clown’s head, before turning over and splashing all over it -- it sputtered in confusion as all of its face paint was washed off and its curly red hair lay like flat curtains around its face.

Barnaby gave a fist pump. “Yes!”

“Good job, Barnaby,” Carewyn said, beaming proudly.

“Miss Tonks!” said Rakepick.

Tonks darted forward just as eagerly. The sopping wet clown shifted his gaze over to her -- then, with another CRACK, it had become herself, only with mousy brown hair and eyes, colorless, friendless, and insecure --

Tonks, without her Metamorphagus abilities.

“Riddikulus!” laughed Tonks.

CRACK.

Boggart Tonks had shifted into Tulip, holding up a bottle of hair dye potion and laughing as loudly as Tonks herself. The real Tulip was also laughing from her own desk.

“Disguising yourself as someone and wigging them out -- that is a good idea for a prank, Tonks!” Tulip called out with a wicked grin.

“Mr. Winger!”

Talbott leapt up onto his feet, sweeping across the room with the grace of a bird coming in for a landing.

CRACK.

Boggart Tulip had transformed into a black-hooded figure holding a wand alight with acid green, the Dark Mark glowing in the sky over his head -- a Death Eater set to kill him like they had his parents --

“Riddikulus!” Talbott spat out with venom.

CRACK.

The Death Eater’s cloak seemed to expand into strips of fabric that lashed around it in strips, wrapping the frantically wriggling figure up tightly like a mummy.

“See, Andre?” said Talbott with a cool smirk over his shoulder. “I told you long cloaks only get in your way.”

Andre crossed his arms, his face appearing rather sassy. “A stylish person knows how to wear a cloak properly...and also doesn’t consider wearing American-style cowboy hats unironically in public -- ”

“Mr. Weasley!” Rakepick cut off the two Ravenclaws’ debate at the legs.

Charlie hopped nimbly right over his desk and zipped up to the front.

CRACK.

The boggart had become a very official-looking desk piled high with paperwork stamped with the purple seal of the Ministry of Magic.

“Being stuck working in an office for the rest of my life,” Charlie explained helpfully to Carewyn, and he gave a shudder. “Still reckon Mum wants me to go that way, like Dad did...”

Carewyn offered him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll never belong in an office, Charlie.”

Charlie grinned as he faced the boggart. “Yeah -- I guess it is pretty ‘Riddikulus!’”

CRACK.

The desk chair was suddenly filled by Charlie’s brother Percy, who’d organized all of the paperwork perfectly -- only for his younger twin brothers Fred and George to barrel on through on their brooms and send the tall stacks of papers flying.

“Miss Haywood!”

Penny, as devil-may-care as she usually was, hesitated just a bit before running up to the front. Her face hardened with focus and determination, even as her wand hand trembled.

CRACK.

The boggart had transformed into a hulking, furry werewolf, its fangs dripping with blood as it growled ferociously.

Carewyn shot a quick look over at Chiara. Her face had gone very white as she shrank back in her seat.

“RIDDIKULUS!” Penny shouted as loudly as she could, even as her voice cracked.

CRACK. The werewolf became a giant stuffed toy, which flopped down to the floor face-first.

“Mr. Caplan!”

Diego had been ready a good five minutes ago -- he slid right in front of Penny with the grace of a dancer, his wand raised.

CRACK. The boggart became a wrinkled, hunched-over old woman in ragged clothes with a face shaped like Diego’s. She clearly wasn’t human, though -- she smelled horribly, like rotten eggs and petrol, she grunted and groaned like a zombie, and her eyes bulged unnaturally out of their sockets.

“That’s La Tunda!” said Rowan. “Tundas are shapeshifting creatures that make themselves look like your loved ones in order to lure you in, trap you, and then drain you of your blood.”

“Take five points to Slytherin for anticipating one of my future lessons, Miss Khanna,” Rakepick said very lightly.

Diego’s hand clenched that little bit more tightly around his wand, murmuring something very quietly under his breath before pointing his wand at the boggart.

“Riddikulus!”

CRACK.

In an instant, a flock of monarch butterflies flew out of Diego’s wand, attacking the Tunda and knocking it backward off their feet. The rest of the class laughed, though Diego gave a slightly weaker laugh himself.

“Sorry, Abuela,” he said sheepishly. “I don’t like the butterflies anymore than you do...”

“Miss Murk!” said Rakepick.

CRACK. The boggart became four people, all of whom looked very clean-cut and uptight -- the youngest of them, a girl who looked identical to the older sister standing beside her -- had Ismelda’s face.

“Riddikulus!” Ismelda cried, her mouth spread into an almost manic smirk.

CRACK. The four people were all splashed with mud, and the other three members of the family ran off in disgust and humiliation as Boggart Ismelda splashed happily in the mud puddle by herself.

“Mr. Kim!”

CRACK. The boggart became a cold, empty house with no furniture and barren cabinets with no blankets, clothes, or food.

“Riddikulus!” shouted Jae.

CRACK. The house fell apart like a movie set, revealing a bunch of TV crew shouting at each other in Korean about the poor craftsmanship.

“Miss Lobosca!”

CRACK. The boggart became a rather pretty girl with curly brown hair, curled up in a ball in the corner and her wide, terrified eyes streaming with tears.

“Get off of me!” she screamed. “Get away from me -- !”

Selina, Carewyn realized in horror.

Chiara’s face had lost all of its color, but she faced Boggart Selina with a very strained, strangely gentle expression.

“Riddikulus,” she whispered.

CRACK. Selina became Tonks, doubled over in fits of laughter from a Tickling Charm.

“All right!” she choked through her laughter. “All right, you win -- you’re better at the Tickling Charm than I am!”

The real Tonks laughed too. “Oh come on, Chiara -- no need to rub it in!”

Chiara gave both Boggart Tonks and the real Tonks a very small smile before looking up at Carewyn. Seeing the concern in her friend’s face, Chiara gave her her best reassuring smile.

“Are you -- ?” started Carewyn, but before she could finish, Rakepick had already called up that one Gryffindor boy who was terrible at Wingardium Leviosa to take his turn.

CRACK. A laughing crowd of students became a surprise birthday party.

CRACK. A mirror reflection turning invisible became an incomplete portrait being painted by an admirer.

CRACK. A demonic-looking Merula Snyde was suddenly decked out in bright pink and ribbons, crowing about loving lollypops and unicorns. (This one in particular prompted Merula to take out her wand and threaten to hex both Tulip and Carewyn in the face for how hard they were laughing.)

“Miss Khanna!” barked Rakepick, so as to put a stop to the escalating fight.

Rowan dutifully came up to the front of the room, her shoulders locked beside her head and her wand held high with determination.

CRACK.

Whatever Rowan or anyone else had been expecting, it wasn’t what the boggart became. Instead, it transformed into the spitting image of Carewyn.

The class looked from the fake Carewyn to the real one, incredibly taken back. Rowan faltered.

“Carewyn?” she said.

Boggart Carewyn, however, didn’t answer. Instead she merely turned on her heel and started to walk away.

“Carewyn!” said Rowan.

Forgetting herself, she reached out as if to grab Boggart Carewyn’s shoulder, only for her hand to get knocked out of the way. A fake Charlie Weasley had appeared out of nowhere wrapped his arm around Boggart Carewyn’s shoulder and was steering her away.

“Come on, Carey -- let’s go play Quidditch!”

Rowan flinched. Out of nowhere also appeared a fake Bill, wrapping his other arm around Carewyn and continuing to steer her away.

“Now, Charlie, don’t forget, Carey and I still have to deal with the Vaults -- ”

“Hey, Cursebreaker!” a fake Andre’s voice called out in the distance. “Still up for a midnight broom ride tonight?”

“Carewyn!” called another voice in the distance that almost sounded like Barnaby’s. “Carewyn, you just gotta see this new Mooncalf at the Magical Creature Preserve -- ”

“Carewyn, I just finished listening to the CD you sent me over break -- ” said a voice vaguely like Chiara’s.

“I don’t suppose you have any time to give this a read, Carewyn?” said a voice like Talbott’s.

Soon the voices were all piling up on each other. One kind of like Liz’s -- one kind of like Tonks’s -- kind of like Orion Amari’s -- one like Rosmerta’s, and Hagrid’s, and Rakepick’s --

Rowan’s dark eyes had become very wide behind her glasses. She’d gone very quiet and her wand hand had fallen slack at her side. Carewyn looked from the boggart to Rowan, her concern giving way to alarm, as she dashed forward -- Rakepick, however, stopped her, sweeping in front of Rowan first.

“Step back and collect yourself, Miss Khanna,” she said brusquely. “I don’t need Miss Cromwell throwing herself in front of you to protect you.”

Rowan blinked rapidly, awareness and then shame flooding her face, as Rakepick tossed her hair to look over her shoulder.

“Mr. Copper!” the professor said sharply. “You next!”

Ben looked as if he wanted nothing less than to leave his desk. Still, knowing he had no choice, he swallowed back the lump in his throat and -- raising his wand -- stumbled forward.

Boggart Carewyn -- still flanked by the fake Charlie and Bill -- turned to look over her shoulder at Ben, her blue eyes oddly blank and penetrating. Then, in a moment, the shapes all seemed to contort together, morphing and twisting --

CRACK.

The boggart disappeared completely. The entire class stiffened, staring at the spot where the creature had been. The silence dragged. Then, suddenly...

Attack.

A voice filled the room. It was a cold male voice that dripped through everyone’s ears with the softness of silk and the frigidness of icy water -- a voice that made Ben crumple in on himself like a piece of paper.

“No,” he whispered.

Attack. Again. Attack.

“No -- no, no -- ”

The boggart Carewyn had reappeared -- but this time, she wasn’t the least bit nonchalant. This time she was crumpled up on the ground, her eyes very wide as spells from nowhere rained down on her, cutting at her face and clothes and blasting her wand out of her hand.

The real Carewyn moved forward. “Ben -- !”

Once again, though, Rakepick stopped her, this time by actually taking hold of her arm.

“You can’t save your friends from their own demons, Miss Cromwell,” she said very lowly.

Do it, said the voice filling the room. Finish her. Kill h --

“DEPULSO!” Ben screamed.

BAM.

The boggart Carewyn was blasted backwards. It seemed to flicker, for an instant becoming Merula, and then the clown, and then the werewolf, before hitting the wall. Ben, however, had not lowered his wand -- his brown eyes were wide with terror as he pointed it at the boggart again.

“STUPEFY!”

The stunning spell knocked the boggart right back into the open trunk with so much force that it lost consciousness. Then Ben pointed his wand at the trunk and cast “Colloportus!” to lock it.

Breathing hard, Ben looked up at Rakepick, who was frowning deeply as she released Carewyn, crossing her arms.

“I don’t believe I said anything about locking that boggart back in its cabinet, Mr. Copper,” said the professor very coldly.

Ben bowed his head in shame.

“...No, professor,” he said very quietly.

“And yet you did it,” Rakepick challenged him.

Ben swallowed. “I...didn’t know how to make the Imperius Curse funny, professor.”

Rakepick’s eyes narrowed as her eyebrows rose. “Your lack of creativity doesn’t excuse not following the assignment.”

Carewyn was outraged.

“Ben used quite a bit of creativity,” she defended her friend fiercely. “He knew he couldn’t defeat his boggart with laughter like the others did, but he still came up a way to defend himself and everyone else from it. If that isn’t ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts,’ I don’t know what is.”

“If you truly knew all that Defense Against the Dark Arts encompasses, then you would not be a student sitting in my classroom, Miss Cromwell,” Rakepick reminded her very coolly. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Copper, for putting an end to our lesson early by stunning and re-trapping our boggart without direction. Mr. Copper and Miss Khanna, you shall face your boggarts again next week with Messrs. Hayden and Egwu and Misses Ali, Tuttle, and Snyde -- and in that class, I expect a proper demonstration of Riddikulus.”

Merula shot a scornful look over at Ben as he sat back down next to Charlie, who patted his shoulder reassuringly. Rowan slunk back down into her seat too, her head bowed in shame.

“...Yes, ma’am.”

Carewyn looked from Ben to Rowan, her blue eyes rippling with pain. Then, shooting a venomous look at Rakepick, she -- rather than returning to her seat next to Badeea at the front of the class -- switched seats so as to sit down next to Rowan in the second row.

Rowan looked up at Carewyn, startled. The red-haired Prefect didn’t look at her, instead keeping her hard gaze up on Rakepick at the front of the classroom, but she lightly pressed her shoulder up against her friend’s.

That boggart isn’t true, Carewyn prayed Rowan would understand. I won’t leave you -- please don’t believe that...

Rowan, however, couldn’t meet Carewyn’s eye. Instead she shifted away and started to quickly pack her books into her bag.

Carewyn’s heart clenched.

“Rowan -- ”

“Miss Cromwell,” said Rakepick curtly. “A quick word, after class.”

Carewyn looked up from the desk to glare at Rakepick. Then, glancing at Rowan reluctantly, she rose from her seat and approached Rakepick in front of her desk.

Once the rest of the class had filed out, Rakepick spoke again.

“I’m sure you think I was quite unfair to your friends just now,” she said seriously. “Undoubtedly because you yourself probably feel some trace of responsibility, for the forms their boggarts took in the first place.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed, but she tried not to let the pain show on her face. She did not want Rakepick to have any inkling of just how spot-on her guess was.

“But you will not always be able to protect them from harm, Miss Cromwell,” said Rakepick. “On the contrary -- it is likely you will be forced by circumstance to solely focus on your own survival. Ben Copper’s attack of you this last spring is more than enough proof of that.”

“And yet you still act like Ben was a villain in that whole affair,” Carewyn challenged her. “Even after seeing visible proof that his greatest fear was being controlled by the Imperius Curse, like when he attacked me, you still take pot shots at him.”

“I’m not the only one in your circle who harbors doubts about Mr. Copper’s story,” Rakepick said very quietly. “Just as I’m certain you’re not the only person in my class that harbors doubts about me.”

Justifiably so, Carewyn thought resentfully, and her eyes narrowed.

“However much you may doubt my intentions, Miss Cromwell,” said Rakepick, “I am here to instruct you and your class in how best to defend yourselves. And however much potential you possess, both as a leader and a protector, I do not want you sacrificing yourself for people incapable of doing the same. You deserve allies strong enough to protect you just as much as you protect them -- ”

“I don’t want my friends to sacrifice themselves for me, Rakepick,” Carewyn snapped. “And I will not have you advise me on which people deserve my loyalty -- only I have the right to do that.”

Carewyn turned on her heel and prepared to leave. Rakepick didn’t stop her, but once Carewyn reached the door, the professor made the Prefect pause when she spoke again.

“I know you intend to go to Knockturn Alley. Mr. Kim is an admirable choice of back-up -- but if you intend to get there, you’ll need a fireplace connected to the Floo Network: something not easy to find, inside the castle walls. Meet me outside Dumbledore’s office on Monday, and I can get you inside.”

Carewyn cocked her eyebrow suspiciously. “And get both Jae and me caught on our way back to Dumbledore’s office and be banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of our school careers? No, thank you.”

“I have no interest in you being hindered from finding the Cursed Vaults, Miss Cromwell,” Rakepick said lightly. “Nor do I have any interest in Mr. Kim being prevented from moving as he pleases -- he does Gryffindor house proud, and as I said, his knowledge of Knockturn Alley makes him useful.”

Rakepick’s Niffler, Sickleworth, scampered up her arm to curl up on her shoulder. Rakepick scratched under his neck idly.

“My interest is in you succeeding in your undertaking, Miss Cromwell,” she said levelly. “Your success will bring both of us closer to the Cursed Vaults -- so it’s only right that I ensure that outcome by giving you the means to succeed.”

Carewyn crossed her arms, the suspicion not shifting from her face. Then, after a long moment, she said,

“...Fine. Jae and I will meet you outside Dumbledore’s office on Monday. But we have our own way back into school -- so don’t bother tipping Filch off to when a pair of shady-looking students might be popping up back through Dumbledore’s fireplace.”

Rakepick smiled wryly as Carewyn left the room, closing the door with a sharp snap behind her.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #patricia rakepick #carewyn cromwell #ben copper #rowan khanna #chiara lobosca #charlie weasley #talbott winger #andre egwu #tulip karasu #barnaby lee #nymphadora tonks #diego caplan #merula snyde #ismelda murk #jae kim #bill weasley #fanfiction #I had this in my drafts for WAY too long and decided damn it I'm just going to knuckle down and finish it!#but yeah this is set in year 5 chapter 9 so right before that big blow-up in the library scene #fortunately carewyn and rowan do have a pretty good heart-to-heart after that whole affair #and ben...yeah those demons of his aren't going to go away at all really they're just going to molt and evolve #I do see him mastering how to resist the imperius curse in large part due to how violated and scared he felt being controlled like that #yes I admit it I will always love rakepick and carewyn's dynamic #with carewyn ttly being rakepick's favorite but NOT jiving with it at all #merula's boggart would probably end up being some form of being second-best forever or ignored and forgotten by everyone #...kind of like victor's actually -- yes his is the one of the reflection turning invisible #I thought that'd be particularly ironic considering that in the game he becomes a vampire a creature that supposedly has no reflection

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domaslut · 1 year

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I WON’T CRUCIFY THE THINGS YOU DO.

Pairings: Chester Davies x reader; Felix Rosier x reader

Warnings: angst, bits of fluff, use of alcohol, post Hogwarts, the characters are in their early twenties, some implications to sex towards the end (18+).

Plot: in which you give up on your relationship with Chester Davies to work for the Order of the Phoenix as a mole among the Death Eaters and convince Felix Rosier, your former crush, to redeem himself. Exhausted, you come to the conclusion that you have lost the only person you truly cared about. Once you come back home, however, someone is waiting for you on the couch.

You stumbled out of the Three Broomsticks, smudged lipstick, black lines of mascara drawing irregular patterns on your cheeks. You were definitely tipsy, barely standing straight and your vision was partially blurry. Right after you had agreed on joining a group of new young recruits of Death Eaters to assault Diagon Alley, you had realised that it was not the way you planned to help the Order of the Phoenix. You should have just turned down Mad-Eye Moody’s offer to become his eyes and ears. Not only you were risking your neck, but also torturing innocent people. How did you end up falling in the deep end?

Once your task was completed, you did not hesitate to apparate in Hogsmeade and wash away your sins in alchol. Butterbeer was a long forgotten drink. Fire Whiskey worked, though. You gulped down a shot after another, theoat on fire, tears peaking at the angles of your lashes.

Why did he have to be a Death Eater?

The chill running down your spine when your eyes met on the battlefield earlier, the way he suavely whispered your name under his breath as he brushed his thin lips on the back of your hand. He was the same, handsome as ever, malice gleaming into his eyes. Yet, he was not the old, good guy you had fallen in love with back at Hogwarts.

“Unscupulous, I see. You certainly became a real Slytherin, after all”, his voice rang in your head as you slumped down on a bench to rest. The moon shone bright above you and you knew it was probably past midnight. You should have just headed back home, instead of spending your money on cheap drinks in hope to forget about him.

“Screw you, alright?” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could not just simply pretend you had not casted a Crucio with him on a fellow wizard in the middle of the steets. You could not shake the feeling of satisfaction dripping from his laughter, once you were done, or the way he pushed you against the nearest wall to invite you over for a drink. You could not read his true intentions, you did not know if he keened to truly have his way with you out of pure interest, or if he was just trying to hook up to celebrate his victory. All you knew was that your blood ran cold and you arranged to agree on a date on Sunday.

His breath fanned your jawline as he buried his nose onto the crook of your neck. You had dreamt to be this close to him for years, back in time. But he was not a monster in your dreams, he was a slytherin prince in a emerald green cape. A yelp fell from your lips, when his sharp teeth bit down on the tender flesh of your neck and chills ran down your spine as he reclutanly took a step back, to inspect the purple mark he had tatooed on your once flawless skin.

“Just in case you bump onto that uptight boyfriend of yours… Are you two still together, by the way? I should have not let him have his way with you back then”.

A teardrop left your eye but you quickly wiped it away with your fingertips. You were tired, exhausted even and your stomach twisted and turned, leaving you dizzy in the middle of a strangely desolate Hogsmeade. As if it was not enough, your mind dragged you in dark memories, forcing you to reminisce over things you should have not done, over facts that had made you realise how stupid and foolish you had been back then.

“It’s not you. It’s me. I am not good enough for you” you had murmured, a pouring rain cascading over you two and disguising your tears with its droplets running down your face.

He stared at you in defeat, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket “You are more than enough for me. Be honest: it’s not me, but it’s not you either, am I right? It’s him.”

You clenched your fists in frustration as his words cut deep into your heart. He was right. It was ‘him’, but how were you supposed to tell him that it was not just about your feelings for him? He was a good friend of yours, after all. Maybe your love for him was not as intense as you thought it was: you just wanted to make sure he was fine, that the Death Eaters had not knocked on his door trying to englobe him into their army. However, little did you know he was a Rosier and his family had always chosen to stand with the shadows.

“Chester, please… – you uttered, averting your eyes from him – It’s complicated. I don’t want to hurt you” you tried to defend yourself.

“Oh, thank you for your deliberate act of kindness then. – he sarcastically commented – What on the Earth do you think you’re doing right now, huh? Hypocrisy doesn’t suit you, Y/N” he countered back, jabbing his finger at you. His hands were shaking and you wondered if the water dripping down his glabrous face were tears, or just the rain.

“He was your friend too, Chester! I need to do this for him! There’s a chance he could be saved” you fired back, taking a step forward.

“A backstabber is no friend of mine. – he flatly declared, shrugging at you – And stop lying to my face. Don’t pretend you are doing this for him. We both know you are going to walk through hellfire for your benefits. That’s it, isn’t it? You desperately need to know that he is a good guy, when you already know the truth! There is no redemption for him. Don’t be so foolish to follow him into a grave, please” he ranted, before turning his back at you and running off to a place far from you.

You had done a terrible mistake. Weeks had passed from that fatal day, when Chester left your shared appartment, leaving no trace of his existence behind. You regretted everything. He was never wrong, he knew you would have literally fought the Dark Lord himself to make sure Felix was still the guy you had lost your mind for from the day you first met. Chester did not care about your feelings for him. He accepted the fact that a part of you would have always belonged to the Slytherin prefect. Why? Because he loved you. He was the one who picked up the pieces of your broken heart and put them together, when Felix dumped you at the Yule Ball.

“I should have known he was the only one worth to fight for…” you whispered, batting your eyes closed. Flashes of that night pestered your broken mind.

You were in the Great Hall in a lovely green dress, red painted lips and full of expectations for the Ball, when Felix Rosier told you he could not attend the event and that, furthermore, you were not the one for him. You fell on your knees, your eyes sparkling in tears as you heard the echoes of your friends’s laughters all around you. You should have kept your distance, you should have not allowed yourself to believe you two shared a deeper connection. You were just friends.

It was only when someone cleared his throat in your proximity that you finally saw Chester, a gentle look in the eyes and a baby-blue tissue in his hand. You were still too traumatized to say something, but it was not necessary. He bent down next to you, grabbing your chin delicately to turn your head towards him and then he did something you could never forget: he tapped the tears away from your face with the tissue, half-lidded coffee brown hues soaking in your features.

You had no idea of how long you sat there in silence, watching couples of students hiding in the shadows to make out, or have some privacy anyway. Eventually, though, he was the one who broke the awkward silence.

“What was his excuse?” he asked, staring to an indefinite point ahead of him.

“He had some business to attend to… – you trailed off – And, according to him, we are better off as friends”.

He scoffed, lulling his head back in search for the right words to say but it appeared to you that he was just trying to suffocate his rage. You had never seen the calm and collected Ravenclaw prefect acting so out of character. It was weird and oddly creepy, yet heartwarming. Why was he so upset? Did he care that much about you?

“Would you give me a chance?” he blurted out then, catching you off guard.

You parted your lips in disbelief, cocking your head to the side “What?”.

“Dance with me. Now. Outside. Would you give me a chance to make you smile?”.

You blushed, grasping his hand as he helped you to get back on your feet. He draped his jacket over your bare shoulders, as you slow-danced under the moonlight that night. Somehow, he had got your back. And it was not the last time he did it.

Where was he now though? He was gone, he was not coming back to you. Not now, not even in a lifetime. It was your fault, after all. You deserved it.

You took off your heels, standing up from the bench and cursing yourself for having been a blind idiot who only saw the good in people who lacked empathy. Felix never loved you, not even now. You were nothing more than a one-night stand for him. A toy, a doll to throw away once he was done with it, as one of the Death Eaters had said to him “She is a cute doll, isn’t she?”. But you were not a doll, you were a young woman in love.

You appareted away, back into your apartment. It was dark, except for the dim moonlight seeping through the courtains into the living room. Your flat only meant one thing to you now: solitude and sorrow, guiltiness and remorse. You were used to snuggle into Chester’s arms, whenever you got back home. Who was waiting for you now, though? No one, but an empty space.

You dragged your feet along the cold floor, droopy eyes and a quivering lower lip. You had no tears left to cry, yet your body stirred and trembled as if you were about to burst out into another break down again.

You had barely made it to bedroom, when your legs gave up and you collapsed. You expected to hit the floor with a dull thud, to have your knees bruised the morning after and maybe a concussion, but you did not expect to inhale a familiar scent, or to hold onto his forearms for dear life. Were you really that drunk that you were imagining things? Was it possible to feel a warm breath fanning your lips, if you were daydreaming, though?

“Just in time” Chester murmured, concerned.

You gawked, your eyes snapping open as your vision cleared out to reveal his face. You were not having episodes, he was there, holding you into his arms because, once again, you could not take care of yourself. How ironic was it that he always had your back, even though you were not together anymore? He was not supposed to be there, to watch you crumble down under the effect of drinks and the hurt Felix was causing you.

“You are back… You are here” you stammered, glassy eyes boring into his ones.

Chester did not reply. His hands simply travelled down your waist, then they settled on the back of your legs and swept you off of your feet. You let him pick you up, your hand clenching the fabric of his navy-blue shirt like a newborn baby. You depended on him, you had missed him like crazy. But why was he there? You had hurt him, he had all the rights in the world to hate you.

Still he loved you.

“Why are you here?” you murmured, as he laid you down on the bed.

It took a moment for him to answer. His eyes inspected your body, searching manically for some injuries, a proof that someone had hurt you, but all his eyes saw were a few bitemarks on your neck and the sorrow in your eyes. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him down towards you, as if you were begging him to stay. Had he not come back to stay, indeed?

“I was… I had forgotten some books and a box with some clothes” he vaguely said, sitting down beside you.

You frowned, lifting yourself up on your elbows “Don’t lie to me, Ches…” you said, earning a sigh from him.

Chester glanced at you briefly, his heart melting instantly. It felt surreal. You two were sitting in your once shared bedroom, tired, a familiar gleam in your eyes that displayed nothing but affection and concern. Merlin, he had truly missed you. How far had you gone this time?

“I was worried about you and your low sense of self-preservation” he admitted, as you sighed and wrapped your arms around your legs, bringing them to your chest. He knew that position. You once told him you felt protected and safe, if you curled yourself up in a ball. You were scared and loathed to see you like that.

“It sucks caring about a reckless idiot, I know... I am sorry” you agreed, propping your chin over your knees.

Chester arched a tick eyebrow, shifting his position to properly face you. What had Felix done to you? Did you finally understand he was a lost cause? Had you finally realised how much you valued?

“I would have come back anyway. Reckless, or rational” he softly said, tucking a strand of your hair behind your left ear. Your breath hitched, his forefinger brushing against your cheekbone in a feather-like touch. You had longed for that touch for days.

“Why?”.

“Because I love you. – he paused, swallowing forcefully the limp in his throat – And there’s nothing bad you can do to change that. No matter how far you go, how much you venture into the darkness, or how you got that…” he trailed off, gesturing to the hickeys sprinkled down your neck. Your hand snapped up to cover your exposed flesh from his gaze. Shame and regrets dawning on you for the unpteenth time that night. You never wanted Felix to touch you. The only reason why you allowed him to do it was that you hoped to persuade him to be a better man, to turn his back at the Dark Lord.

“I have come back for you, Y/N, because I love you” he confessed then.

Tears spilled out uncontrollably from your already puffed eyes and you crawled towards him, hands cupping his face to bring him down to your level. Your lips met midway, moving in sync, dancing in a slow motion you had missed for five longs weeks of his absence. His calloused fingers tangled in your hair, pulling gently on some strands to angle your head in a better position. You belonged to him, his was the love that kept you warm in the endless, cold winter nights, his were the hugs you could not live without.

You moaned against his lips, his free hand travelling down your hip and squeezing it as a sign for you to climb on his legs. Another habit of yours, another way he had to show you his love language: physical, gentle touch.

He was not like Felix, he was not rough with you. Never. Most importantly, Chester Davies had never broken your fragile heart.

Your straddled his waist, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders as his lips hovered over yours. You stayed like that for minutes, eyes closed, lips barely touching and the only sound audible in the dark room was your uneven breaths. “I know you care about him… It’s okay, I can deal with it, if it’s important to you. But promise me you’re going to be okay” he cooed, knitting his eyebrows together. He was pleading you, he did not want to lose you again. Not for Felix Rosier, at least. He had asked Mad-Eye Moody to send him as mole in the dark society too, but he had refused. It was better for lovers to work separately. Or so he had been told.

You kissed him, nodding at his statement “I’ll do my best, but don’t leave me again”.

Words were superfluous, at this point. You ripped his shirt open, the buttons went flying across the room landing on the floor, lost forever. The bedsheets were the only shield you used from the rest of the world that night and Sunday soon became a day you wished not to live.

AUTHOR NOTE.

AHHH, I have honestly enjoyed writing this one! Would you love to read a part 2? I am very tempted, but I would like to hear your opinion first! I know, I know, I am the queen of angst but the best love stories I have ever read are tragic❤️👀

Are you a simp for Chester or Felix? 🫣

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delicrieux · 1 year

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𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 | endless drabble series (winter edition)

pairing—felix rosier x slytherin!nb!reader summary—treats & the piano playing as you’re snowed in (2) requested by @poruchik-logy —hello :3 it's me again. i know i'm nosy but you said it yourself - requests for winter prompts are open ehehe. so can i please request "snowed in" with hphm character (either felix or ben) and slytherin reader ? word count—360

masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the winter prompts list 1 & 2 !

Felix and you are stuck in his home, in a massive alabaster mansion with towers and sharp spires reaching between tall trees in a secluded alcove North of London. He enjoys his solitude. You enjoy it with him.

The rolling hills surrounding the estate are covered in a moonlit sheet of snow, glistening under the light. Ice crusts the walkway at the front of the house and skirts along the edges of the windows. It’s terribly cold.

You sit in a corner of the room, enveloped in shadows, as he plays the piano. His fingers move from one key to the next, creating a gentle melody that tugs at your heartstrings. Though the melody is quiet, it’s more expressive than he can ever be with words. His love for you is always silent: just as the house he apprehensively calls home.

You eat a dessert made by a sleepless chef, a light, sweet thing, the texture of cream and air.

"Do you think we'll be able to leave tomorrow?" You ask, and his fingers halt by the keys.

His back is straight, and his features are obscured, "...I wouldn't count on it, I'm afraid."

You heave a resigned sigh, cozy in your woolen blankets, "Lucky for me that I'm stuck with you."

He chuckles, "Are you the one who's lucky, or is it I?" with that, he continues playing.

That melody lulls till your eyes drift close. You can’t recall when you fell asleep.

You feel a persistent heavy hand on your shoulder. With your eyes still shut, you pull the blankets over your head. It gently shakes you.

You open your eyes to a dark room, with the only source of light coming from the moon. The piano is quiet. It had stopped snowing. You squint. The hand lifts from your shoulder and softly taps your face. You look to see a figure standing in the shadows. With a jolt you realize that it’s simply Felix.

"Felix? What is it?" You rasp. The moonlight touches some of his features. They form into a gentle smile.

“Come,” He urges softly, his hand digging to grasp yours, “let’s go to bed.”

hope u liked it ! <3 for 2023, tpwk ✧･ﾟ:

#felix rosier #felix rosier x reader #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm x reader #hp x reader #felix x reader #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert #request

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lifeofkaze · 2 years

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Friendly Fire

Charlie Weasley x OC

Happy birthday to my favourite, morally-so-grey-it's-questionable OC Ava Campbell! I was told I'm not allowed to give her angst for her birthday, so have whatever this is, instead 💙

A/N: Kaari Arcano (in mention) belongs to @kathrynalicemc

Noble goals were a nice thing to have. Unfortunately, like any charitable endeavour, every goal - as noble as it might be - required one thing: money.

Growing up in a family with six siblings, a ghoul, and only one breadwinner, money had been perpetually tight for Charlie Weasley, which was why he had learned how to keep a budget early on. Looking at the amounts of money needed to maintain a dragon sanctuary, however, Charlie found these to be of a dimension exceeding his wildest dreams.

Getting your hands on enough Galleons to secure the new, much-needed addition to the Romanian Dragon sanctuary wasn't an easy task if you happened to be a simple dragonologist, which was why the main hall of Gringotts Wizarding Bank was presently filled with people dressed in their best evening robes. It was the Ministry of Magic's annual charity event, where it would be decided which organisations would benefit from the next distributions of their generous funding. Representatives of organisations from all across the board had flocked to the event, ready to charm their way into the hearts and purses of the witches and wizards responsible for the funds.

Needless to say, Charlie hated it.

He and his colleague Felix Rosier were keeping to the side of the big room with its gleaming marble floors, at least for the moment. Charlie's eyes wandered over the colourful mix of people in front of him, dancing to the music of the string quartet or chatting and laughing about jokes that probably weren't even funny. He hooked one of his fingers underneath the bowtie around his neck and pulled, but it only increased the feeling of tightness in his throat.

"You're only making it worse," Felix sternly said next to him. He was dressed in forest green dress robes that looked way too expensive to be afforded by his dragonologist's wage alone. "The more you fiddle with it, the more you'll hate it."

"If possible," Charlie muttered but let his hand sink anyway. "I don't get why the boss sent us, of all people. This is a waste of time."

"Because we're good-looking and persuasive," Felix replied. With a slight grin, he added, "or at least one of us is."

"Yeah, I don't know why she wanted you to come either."

"Careful, Weasley. Continue like this and I'll abandon you to deal with the joys of butt-kissing all by yourself."

Chuckling into his very small and probably very expensive drink, Charlie changed the topic. "Who do we have to charm anyway? They all look the same to me."

"See those wizards standing by the big scales over there?" Felix said and discreetly nodded his head in the direction of two men in understated but impeccably tailored dress robes. They had an effortless air of authority about them and were surrounded by at least half a dozen people.

"Who are they?"

"Malcolm Mintington and Salif Sterling. They are the chairmen of the funding panel. It's a democratic vote, but most other members do as they say. If you can convince them to support us, the money is as good as ours."

Charlie's brows knit together in a frown. "If I can convince them?"

Felix shrugged. "Sterling and my family aren't exactly on good terms. I would do more damage than good here."

"And you didn't think of telling me that earlier?"

"And miss the party? As if." Felix winked and took a sip of his champagne. The mischievous look on his face vanished and made way for a concerned frown. "Wait, is that who I think it is?"

Charlie turned his head in the direction Felix was looking in, his eyebrows shooting up as he spotted the woman making her way towards Mintington and Sterling. Her long, platinum blonde hair was woven into an intricate plait that fell over her shoulder, and her lips were painted in a bright, alluring red. She wore a floor-length black dress that was scandalously tight and hugged her body in all the right places. Once the two wizards laid eyes on her, she broke into a charming smile Charlie knew all too well. And really, not even a second later, she had engaged the two men in a conversation.

Charlie cursed under his breath. "What is she doing here?"

"I don't know. She works for Gringotts, maybe that's why."

"Then why is she making eyes at the chairmen? Gringotts has enough money to fund their Curse-Breakers. They don't need ours."

"Only one way to find out," Felix shrugged and nudged Charlie forward. With a dark look, Charlie put down his drink, righted his bowtie, and set off to go and save the new Horntail reserve they so desperately needed.

He hadn't even reached the group when their laughter reached his ears. The two men were hanging from the woman's red lips, and the number of supplicants surrounding them had dramatically reduced. A firm resolution overcoming him, Charlie put on his most charming smile and laid his hand on the woman's shoulder from behind.

"Ava," he said cheerfully, "what a surprise seeing you here."

Ava Campbell ceased her anecdote on the depictions of animal idols of the native tribes of Ethiopia and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Charlie," she smiled, her eyes flashing, "I could say the same of you. Tired of dragon dung and rainy days in gloomy old Romania?"

"Never. How about you? Tired of dust and bones and ancient things?"

Ava's red lips pulled into a half-smile. "Never. I'm not here on Gringotts duty."

"You aren't?"

"No. I'd love to tell you about it, but as you can see, I'm busy. Gentlemen, where were we?"

Her smile froze when Charlie didn't drop his hand off her shoulder and he addressed the very confused-looking chairmen. "Would you excuse us for a second? There are some things I need to ask Miss Campbell about."

"No, of course not, Mr… what was your name?"

"Weasley."

"Weasley as in Arthur Weasley? Well, of course, where else would you belong?" one of the two Ministry officials smiled as Charlie nodded. "Go ahead, but promise to bring Miss Campbell back to us - we need to hear the end of that riveting story about goat worshipping."

"That's a promise," Ava winked over her shoulder as Charlie led her to the side of the room. When they were out of earshot, she turned to him, the look on her face suddenly hard.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "You've ruined my shot!"

"And look how sorry I am. What game are you playing at, Ava?"

"Not a game," Ava said, suddenly evasive. "I need funding."

"What could a Gringotts Curse-Breaker possibly need funding for?"

"I told you, it has nothing to do with Gringotts."

"What then?"

"It's for a friend."

"A friend who can't come and get the funding himself?"

"Apparently not."

"What friend?"

Ava raised her chin. "That's none of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a story to finish."

She meant to push past him, but Charlie stepped in her way. Ava didn't retreat from him, making the two of them stand so close that Charlie could smell the lilac scent of her perfume.

"The reserve needs the money."

"So does my friend."

"Alright, if that's how you want to play..." Charlie held out his hand. "May the best one win."

"Reckless," Ava said, looking him up and down with a smirk. "Are you sure you can handle defeat, Weasley?"

"I don't know. I'll find out another day."

Ava and Charlie shook hands before returning to Mintington and Sterling, around whom a new cluster of people had already formed.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," Ava said as she pushed to the front of the group, Charlie close on her heels. "Where were we?"

"Good to have you back, Miss Campbell. I believe you wanted to tell us about the hazardous war the worshippers of the Horned Goat waged against the zealots of the Great Dragon. Where did you say it happened? The Atlas Mountains?"

"Yes," Ava beamed, "see, the latest historical finds from Northwestern Africa suggest -"

"Talking about goats, do you know how many goats it takes to feed a Hungarian Horntail to satisfaction?" Charlie suddenly butted in. He didn't like how all attention - some eyebrows raised, some drawn together - turned to him, but neither did he like the idea of letting Ava win.

"Do enlighten us, Mr Weasley," Malcolm Mintington said, sounding more confused than anything.

"Ten. Ten goats per animal. They can go for several days without food but prefer to eat every other day. In our sanctuary in Romania, we took charge of three additional Horntails last year alone. Their hunting grounds are vast, just like their appetite," Charlie explained, feeling more comfortable by the minute. "Do you want to know how Horntails hunt? They chase down their prey to the point of exhaustion. You'd think they kill it with their dragonfire, but Horntails prefer their meat raw. They use the spikes on their tail to maul their prey to death."

"That sounds gruesome," Sterling said. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he couldn't wait for Charlie to continue. Satisfied with the result, Charlie opened his mouth to do so when Ava took a step forward, only slightly, but enough to pull the focus back on her.

"Do you know what else is gruesome? In Sweden, ancient druid cults would choose one among their ranks every winter solstice to be sacrificed to their gods. The chosen one was led to a place where Swedish Shortsnouts would gather, and the man burned alive and torn to pieces. The remaining ashes were gathered and mixed with sacred earth and crushed herbs. The ointment they created from it was used to hallow weapons, charms and other objects. It was considered the greatest of honours."

"Talking about ashes," Charlie intercepted again," we had a Horntail once who was driven out of its chosen habitat because the population became too big. It was so distressed that it settled right in the middle of our reserve, crushed the administration hut and set the medical unit on fire. It took fifteen dragonologists to relocate it."

"I remember the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures talking about it," Sterling whispered to his colleague. "They were in a jiffy about it for weeks."

"It was chaos," Charlie nodded, "and probably quite expensive for the Ministry to fund the necessary rebuilds. An incident like this should be avoided at all costs in the future. With additional spaces for new Hungarian Horntails to settle, for example."

"What's a bit of charred wood against knowledge lost to the ages?" Ava snorted. "During my last assignment in Egypt, one of the Curse-Breakers working in our unit touched a serpent idol we found in one of the tombs, like the absolute git that he was. It was exquisitely crafted, unlike anything we had ever seen. When he touched it, it set off a succession of curses that knocked half our team out, collapsed the burial chamber and then dissolved into dust. Had we known more about what this dragon idol symbolised, a tragic loss like this could have been avoided."

Charlie remembered the incident from recounts, but he wasn't entirely sure if Ava was more upset about her colleagues getting hurt than she was about the artefact being destroyed.

"All knowledge of people long dead," he told her, earning himself a withering glance. "A new compound for the Romanian dragon reserve could help provide us with knowledge actually helpful in keeping our workers safe and animals alive. We could even start a second attempt at a breeding program."

"The knowledge of those people long dead could help us in more ways than you can even imagine," Ava hissed, now turning to Charlie fully. She spoke very pointedly, telling Charlie that her patience was running thin. "There's evidence that furthering our understanding of the lore of dragon-worshipping could help us repair the relationship between dragons and wizardkind for good!"

Charlie cocked an eyebrow. "A dragon-wizard utopia? Really?"

"Baby dragons? Really?" Ava shot back. "Someone should have taught you how to hold a gripping presentation that actually makes sense."

"You're not even specialising in dragons. That's my field of expertise if you remember."

"That's my business. Now go mind your own."

"I would, but it's hard when you come in and interfere," Charlie said, looking her up and down and lowering his voice so that only Ava could understand his next words, "especially when you're wearing a dress like this."

Ava's posture changed as her lips drew into a smirk. "What? Am I making you nervous?"

"Not me, them."

"Good," Ava smiled sweetly, "because all is fair in love and war."

Charlie was about to reply, but instead, a curse escaped his lips. He and Ava had been so caught up in their discussion that neither of them had noticed Malcolm Mintington and Salif Sterling slowly backing away from them. They were now standing a few feet ahead of them, talking to a rather wild-looking man about Charlie's and Ava's age with long black hair and a beard; Charlie recognised him as Kaari Arcano, one of the dragonologists from the dragon reserve in Fossan, Norway.

Kaari Arcano's dress robes looked shabby, and there was an odd lump bulging out his breast pocket. As Charlie looked closer, he could have sworn that the bulge was moving. For a split second, he thought a tiny green-scaled head was poking from the pocket, but before Charlie could look twice, it had vanished again. When the three men laughed and shook hands a moment later, Charlie sighed deeply, turning away to notify Ava about what he had seen, but she, too, had already gone.

The rest of the evening was uneventful and after having lost his shot with the funding commission, Charlie saw no point in staying much longer. He left the glittering halls of Gringotts and shortly after found himself in the quiet streets of South-East London, close to the whispering trees of Greenwich Park. The door to the small flat off King William Walk was locked, so Charlie leaned against the wall and waited.

It didn't take long for Ava to arrive.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest, which Charlie had to admit added immensely to the appeal of her dress.

"I need a place for the night."

"You lost our game. What makes you think I'd let you sleep here?"

"You lost, too. And who said anything about sleeping?"

Ava chuckled, stepping close enough to Charlie that he could pick up the scent of her perfume again. "Too bad I don't have a key with me."

"How so?"

Ava looked down at herself and laughed again, decidedly more mischievous this time. "Where would I hide a key in this dress?"

Charlie's eyes trailed her silhouette. "I have some ideas."

He put his hands on her hips and drew her in, kissing her red lips like he had wanted to for the whole evening. Ava's hands brushed down his sides, then left him as she produced her wand from the holster she wore around her thigh, easily accessible through a slit in her dress that Charlie hadn't noticed before but suddenly found very intriguing. Still kissing him, Ava tapped her wand against the doorknob, and the door sprung open with a click.

"A shame Fossan got the money in the end," Charlie said between kisses as Ava pushed him back into the darkness of her flat. "You'd think they're rich enough to pay for themselves."

"Rumour has it the guy they sent had a miniature dragon in his pocket," Ava mumbled, playfully biting Charlie's lower lip. "Can you believe that?"

Charlie said something into her ear that made Ava laugh out loud. She ran her hands through his ginger hair and kissed him again. "Next time, I'll get the money, just you wait. My friend would have loved to get his new Horntail reserve for Christmas."

Charlie grinned in response, laughing as Ava squealed when he picked her up and carried her towards her bedroom. "With that case you made? Never."

"Was that a challenge, Weasley?"

"Bet on it, Campbell."

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #golden era #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x oc #ava campbell #felix rosier #happy birthday ava #oc birthday

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ao3feed-snape · 2 years

Text

Hobbledehoy | H. P. fan fiction

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/OLkIl8o

by Plantsimp

Hogwarts mystery era! various x reader -------------- hobbledehoy

(n.) an awkward teenager; one who is perpetually ungainly and uncertain

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Y/n is literally the definition of teenager. they weren't confident. They weren't sure of anything they ever said, did or even looked at. Oh and they hated, and I mean hated talking. Just absolutely DESPISED it and also how everyone always seemed to stare at them even if they didn't. Their eyes just seemed to follow Y/n everywhere.

read this story to figure out how this absolute menace to society made a whole generation of wizards and witches fall for them. and that just because of their simple PRESENCE.

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

- Love Neslihan

Words: 8811, Chapters: 3/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Nymphadora Tonks, Severus Snape, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Andre Egwu, Talbott Winger, Penny Haywood, Rowan Khanna, Ben Copper (Hogwarts Mystery), Felix Rosier, Pomona Sprout, Chester Davies, Minerva McGonagall

Relationships: Nymphadora Tonks/Reader, Charlie Weasley/Reader, Penny Haywood/Reader, Bill Weasley/Reader, Andre Egwu/You, Talbott Winger/Reader, Rowan Khanna/You, Original Character(s)/Reader, Felix Rosier/You, Chester Davies/You

Additional Tags: Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Good Slytherins, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Good Severus Snape, Protective Severus Snape, Mentor Severus Snape, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Everyone Is Gay

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/OLkIl8o

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Severus Snape #Snape #Professor Snape #SS

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aesthetics-for-harry-potter · 10 months

Note

Would you mind doing an edit for a Slytherin wolf animagus daughter of Charlie Weasley x Felix Rosier? With Sophie Turner with red hair as the faceclaim pls :)

sure!

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juniperwindsong · 4 years

Text

In Love & War (2/3)

Part 2: Retrouvaille

You look down at the parchment in your hands, then back at the dilapidated building in front of you. The numbers match. This is the place. And a more unlikely setting for a casual conversation, you can’t imagine. You have to walk several flights of stairs to reach the top flat. You knock tentatively on the stripped-paint door, but it swings open at your touch. In spite of the sun shining behind you, the room within is shrouded in darkness.

The thought of what Felix would say if he knew where you were and what you were about to do stops you before you enter. Felix, so all-consumed with your safety he thinks of almost nothing else. To walk into such an obvious trap after everything he’s done for you feels like a betrayal of the highest order. But the darkness ahead doesn’t frighten you nearly as much as the dark gaps in your memories. You're convinced now something is wrong, something is missing from your mind, and you cannot shake the feeling that Talbott Winger will be able to shed light on it.

And if it turns out to be a trap, well, it's been a long time since you had a decent duel.

You light your wand and push past the creaking door. It's a studio loft flat, the entirety of which could fit inside the Rosier mansion's second-best dining room. Your light arcs across the walls, scanning the dark for potential dangers. There's a worn but comfortable-looking sofa, soft curtains fluttering gently over the windows, and cheerily painted picture frames decorating the peeling walls. It might have been quite homey once, you think. Only now nearly everything is coated in a thick layer of dust and debris. A table near the kitchen alcove is piled high with used dishes and old fish-and-chip wrappers. You wrinkle your nose at the smell of stale food. There's a noticeable absence of animals or insect life, however, and you wonder whether the flat is entirely abandoned after all.

Movement at the corner of your vision makes you jump. You look up, wand gripped tightly. A wavy pattern of light dances across the wall behind the table. A strange, flickering light, like the reflection of water. You step closer, searching for the source, when a picture hanging at an angle captures your attention.

Even beneath the layers of dust, you recognise the yellow-gold eyes of Talbott Winger. A teenaged Talbott Winger, standing awkwardly at the edge of a group of young people wearing Hogwarts robes. As you stare, one of the other teenagers grabs Talbott's hand, dragging him closer. The students all smile and wave toward the camera, and Talbott's friend leans over to kiss his cheek. Several of the students cheer and Talbott's face turns a fiery red, but he smiles in spite of himself and doesn't pull away.

You inspect Talbott's cheeky companion with interest. You squint at the face, trying to make it out beneath the dust and dirt. Something about them is painfully familiar. The figure turns to face the camera again, and shock like a thunderbolt roots you to the spot.

“Y/N.”

You whip around to find Talbott lurking near the door watching you. His wand is held at his side, but it doesn't occur to you to be afraid. Your head is reeling at the photograph's implications.

“What is this?” You gesture at the picture.

Talbott does not reply. He’s once again the self that seems most natural on him, brooding and silent.

“Why am I in this photo? Why am I -“ You glance back at the picture to confirm what your mind is struggling to accept. You - a teenaged you, dressed in school robes - leaning in to kiss Talbott's cheek as you wave to the camera.

“Were we.... together? At school?

Talbott is still unwilling, or unable, to answer. He takes a few wooden steps toward you. You gather your wits enough to point your wand at his chest.

"Stop!" you demand. You rake your free hand across your scalp, grappling for an explanation. "This is...some sort of trick, isn't it? You're trying to get information from me. About Felix.”

Talbott only shakes his head. His eyes look almost as panicked as you feel.

"Then why can't I remember you? Why can't I remember any of this? Why doesn't anything make sense?"

"Your husband," Talbott pronounces the word with disgust, "is lying to you."

Your heart skips a beat.

"That's...quite an accusation." The tremor in your voice belies your arch words. A light has clicked on in your head, but you don't want to look at it.

It makes sense. It's almost the only thing that makes sense. Felix's refusal to answer questions, to explain anything to you, to let you go anywhere... You've always known he was hiding something. You simply trusted him enough to let it go, at least for the time being. But lying? You picture your husband's adoring eyes and careful hands cupping your face. It's impossible to imagine Felix doing anything to hurt you.

"Alright then. What is he lying about?"

"Everything."

Talbott takes a tentative step, eyes asking yours for permission. You hesitate. Then you lower your wand. You hold your breath as he walks, but Talbott stops on the other side of the table. He pushes aside greasy newspaper wrappings to reveal a stone basin underneath.

"A Pensieve?"

You've seen one just like it in Dumbledore's office. You wonder if it isn't the same one, it looks so similar. What is it doing here?

"I don't know what he's done to you, but I think it's a powerful memory charm," says Talbott. He takes a small vial from his pocket and empties it into the Pensieve. "So you're not going to believe me if I tell you. But I think if I show you...you might remember."

The contents of the basin begin to swirl. Talbott takes a step back and stares at you pointedly. You understand what he wants you to do. But it's madness to put yourself in such a vulnerable position with this man you cannot remember. You shouldn't even be considering it.

You stare at the swirling basin. It’s filled to the brim with memories. And memories are everything you’ve been missing for so long. You approach the Pensieve, and, without letting yourself think anymore, plunge your face inside.

Tendrils of liquid mist writhe about you as you sink in a swirl of light and colour. Fragments of memory play out quickly in front of your floating body: you see yourself, a ridiculously young you, watching in awe as a gawky yellow-eyed boy becomes a bird in the middle of the Hogwarts courtyard; then a version of yourself only slightly older peers anxiously through a gap in a bookcase, hands fiddling with your hair, until the young Talbott on the other side whispers, "My answer is yes," and you watch your own face light up in unrestrained joy.

Another swirl of mist turns the room into starlit sky, and the teenage you and Talbott are perched on the edge of the courtyard fountain. Talbott's hand inches across the stone toward yours. You meet him halfway, grinning furtively, your fingers just brushing his before Talbott grips them tightly, as though you might run away at any second. Then the courtyard morphs into a greenhouse, stars still winking overhead, and you're holding hands with Talbott across a table. The teenage you holds her breath, and you can feel your own present-day chest suddenly still, as Talbott leans over and places tentative lips on your cheek.

You reach up to touch your own, older cheek as if the imprint might still be there. Then your fingers brush your lips. There's a burning there, as well, and you suddenly know where the next memory will be just before the swirling mist subsides.

The owlrey, at sunset. You and Talbott sit cross-legged on the straw, books spread out between you. You're supposed to be studying, you remember, but you can't keep your eyes off the boy next to you. He's staring at his book with all the appearance of unflappable focus. Then he darts a glance at you from the corner of his eye. The younger you smiles. In a rush of boldness you can feel as well as see, the younger you presses your lips to Talbott's in the whisper of a kiss.

Echos of exhilaration, and a sudden horrible fear that you've gone too far, rush through your veins as if the moment were happening to you again. Then Talbott reaches for your teenage self, yanking you closer, his mouth open in a desperate, un-practiced, entirely un-self-conscious kiss. Your first kiss.

You remember it now. You close your eyes, but the scene continues to play behind your eyelids. Your awkward teenage fumbling with lips and teeth and tongue, interspersed with giggles and later with breathy sighs. That kiss had meant everything to you. It had lulled you to sleep at night for so many years. It was the memory that inspired your patronus. How could you have forgotten it?

You open your eyes again. Images continue to flash in quick succession and your dizzy brain tries desperately to keep up. There's you and Talbott in the library passing notes to each other between the bookcases; laying out on the grass with Talbott, your fingers intertwined, watching the stars and sharing secrets; stolen moments with Talbott in the owlrey, discovering each other's bodies slowly and sweetly; Talbott cradling you against him at Rowan's funeral, ignoring the whispers and raised eyebrows of the students around you; Talbott's burning face and pleased smile as you kiss his cheek for your graduation photograph.

Each moment ignites a flame of recognition inside you. You try to remember everything all at once, itemize every moment you've somehow forgotten. But your head feels like it's breaking under the barrage of memories.

Then the mists converge and settle into a scene more still and focused than the others. A slightly older Talbott stands stiffly in the middle of an empty studio flat. You recognise it as the flat you've left your body in. Only it's less dusty and dirty, and there's sunlight streaming through open, curtain-less windows.

You look around for your younger self, but Talbott is alone. These must be Talbott's memories then, not yours. He's rubbing the back of his neck so hard he might wear the skin away, and shooting panicked looks around the empty room. His yellow-gold eyes dart to a window. You can tell he's fighting the urge to take flight. Then the door to the flat swings open noisily. It slams against the wall and a rain of plaster sprinkles to the floor.

"Whoops!" you hear your own voice say. A you, slightly older than the graduation photo and with different hair, staggers into the flat. There’s a tower of boxes balanced in your arms. "Guess we'll need to fix that."

You flash a grin at Talbott, but it fades when you catch sight of his expression.

"What's wrong?"

Talbott says nothing. He figdets with the pocket of his trousers and doesn't meet your eye.

Carefully, you tip your boxes to the floor. You take slow, deliberate steps toward Talbott, as if approaching an extra skittish bowtruckle.

"You don't...I mean...you've not changed your mind, have you?"

If anything, Talbott looks more anxious than before. He shakes his head so violently hair swings about his face. He stares at you, mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a baby bird. Your younger self considers this for a moment. Then you take a deep breath and say, "Okay. Hold on."

Pointing your wand at the boxes, your younger self murmurs, "Windgardium Leviosa,” levitating them carefully to the middle of the room. The boxes settle into even columns until they form a wall about waist height. You dig through the top box and come up with parchment and quill. Then you slide down one side of the cardboard wall. Your hand sneaks around to pat the space on the other side.

The present-day you smiles as you watch Talbott take the proffered seat. You know what this is. It’s the ritual the two of you invented at school, whenever Talbott's anxiety robbed him of speech. What others often mistook for haughty silence, you discovered was really Talbott trapped in his own head, too overwhelmed to explain his thoughts aloud. So you wrote him notes. You left them in the owlery, or his schoolbooks, or slid them between bookshelves in the library to where he waited on the other side. You let him write, at his own pace, everything that was on his mind, until the panic subsided and he could speak again.

As you watch, your younger self scribbles a single word on the parchment, then slides it back to Talbott. You don't have to look to remember what it says.

Hey

Hey yourself, Talbott writes, sliding the parchment back.

You don't seem excited about moving day. Is it the flat? I know it's rubbish, but I can fix a good bit of that.

Talbott grimaces before writing in his careful hand: I don't mind about the flat. It's ours. It's perfect.

So why the long face?

This time, it takes Talbott minutes before he's able to pen the words, I'm afraid, and push the parchment toward you.

Of what?

Talbott's hand-writing is now a hasty scrawl. What if some dark wizard I'm tracking comes looking for me and finds you instead? What if I'm not here to help you?

Your younger self grins. Talbott, I outduel you every time. I'm more worried about you going to work without me.

The corner of Talbott's lips twitch before his face clouds again. What if you change your mind later?

I won't.

The next words come slow and shaky. Talbott presses the quill so hard to the parchment ink bleeds through.When he's finished, Talbott tosses the parchment aside. You have to stretch your arm around the boxes to reach it.

I don't want to lose you.

And you remember without having to look the little pinpricks of tears in yours eyes as you read this. You set the parchment down and crawl around the boxes to Talbott's side. You settle yourself across Talbott's lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your forehead to his.

"You aren't going to lose me. I promise."

Then Talbott's hands are everywhere at once: roaming through your hair, down your arms, across every bit of your body he can reach. His mouth takes yours like a drowning man fighting for air. Even now, so many years later, you can feel your heart stop with the force of that kiss. There's nothing gentle or careful about his clutching fingers or his hungry lips. It's a primal, animal sort of need that makes you gasp and tremble and wrap your legs around him.

Talbott pulls you harder against him, as close as you can possibly be, but it isn't close enough. It never is. Not after you've removed every layer of clothing separating you, nor when he pins you to the ground, your frantic movements testing the integrity of the floorboards. You always need more of him. It's why you can make a promise like that with such certainty.

What on earth could have induced you to break it? What could possibly have made you forget this moment?

The memory melts into mist again, and when it reforms you see a different face smiling at a version of you not much younger than you are now. A face with rich brown eyes, and a superior smirk you know by heart.

"Rosier, this is a surprise!"

Your exclamation echoes into Flourish and Blotts where Talbott, examining a book, looks up sharply.

"Indeed. It's been a long time, Y/N. It's a pleasure to see you again."

Felix takes your hand and offers it a kiss, accented by a mock bow. He winks, and you laugh at the little display.

The scene shifts again, and now you're watching yourself and Felix chat across a table at an outdoor cafe. Only you’re watching from the rooftop of a building a block away. You wonder why, until you spot a great eagle next to you, piercing yellow-gold eyes fixed on the you down below. You squint in the same direction, wondering if you can get closer. Except, as you take in the cafe's coloured awning, you realise you know this memory already. You've thought of it before: catching up with Felix for the first time after you graduated.

You can see Felix's lips move, but the words are muffled. Talbott must have been too far away to hear anything clearly. Felix reaches across the table to stroke the back of your hand. You remember the way the casual flirtation made you shiver. He says something Talbott can't hear, but you remember the words exactly.

"Perhaps I could take you to dinner sometime. I'd love to hear more. I've...quite missed you, Y/N."

And your own reply as you pull your hand gently away. "That...sounds lovely, Rosier. Felix. But I'm afraid I am seeing someone already."

You offer an apologetic smile which Felix accepts with grace.

"Of course. Maybe, as friends then? If you're comfortable?"

But Talbott can't hear this exchange. He can only see your eager nod and the brief embrace you and Felix share before parting.

"We were just friends," you whisper to the eagle, but of course, he can't hear that either. He takes off from the building in rapid flight, wings beating the air violently. And the memory congeals into mist once more.

Scenes continue to play before your eyes. You watch time pass in snatches of moments, but you take in very little of what's happening. Because something has clicked in your brain, and your mind is finally supplying forgotten memories of its own. Talbott, wandering the flat you share, taciturn and brooding. Nothing you do or say can cheer him. Your questions go unanswered, your notes ignored. You remember your growing frustration and concern with your distant partner. His change toward you hurt. You can still feel the ache, like a bruise against your chest. It was as if all the years you had spent carefully building trust with him had never happened. You couldn't understand it.

But with Talbott's memories to fill in the gaps, everything makes sense.

You never mentioned your lunch with Felix to Talbott, nor any of the meetings that followed. You knew Felix's Death Eater family would have made any friendship between him and Talbott impossible. So you kept it hidden. You thought. Guilt sours your stomach until you're afraid you might be sick. What must Talbott have thought of you?

The sound of your own voice raised in frustration snaps you back to the scene in front of you.

"You have to talk to me!" you cry, fingers fisting in your own hair. "I have been so patient, Talbott, but I can't drag words from you all the time. You have to help me! You have to tell me what's going on in your head. If you don't love me anymore, then just say so! Anything is better than this."

"Of course, I love you," Talbott mumbles. He's edging toward the window, retreating from the fight. Usually, this would make you stop and think through your actions carefully. The last thing you ever want to do is scare Talbott away. But this time, angry agitation courses through you. You can still feel the echo of it bubbling in your veins, keeping your better judgment at bay.

"Then why? Why would it be so awful to be married? We've lived together for years, I don't understand why it's so different."

Talbott's yellow-gold eyes plead with you to hear what he cannot say. You understand now the fears he could not put into words. But your younger self only waits impatiently, arms crossed, while Talbott shakes his head.

"We just...can't."

The memory shifts again, and you're watching yourself from a great height. Rain pelts from the sky in angry bullets. They seem to pass right through your strangely floating body, but they run heavily off the wings of the eagle next to you: Talbott, gliding soundlessly above your younger self, as you sprint across the Rosier estate to the manor house. You rap hard on the front door. It takes only a moment for it to open and a surprised looking Felix to allow you to dart inside.

Talbott circles the manor several times, you floating along beside him, before he catches sight of light and movement in a ground floor window. He dives, and you dive with him. You know you can't actually be hurt in someone else's memory, but still you squeeze your eyes shut as the ground hurtles toward you. You don't reopen them until you hear the scrabbling of talons against ground. Talbott settles himself in the shadows beside a window looking down onto the butcher’s table in the kitchen you know so well. The two of you watch as Felix pours you a cup of tea, and your younger self pours out your heart.

This time you can hear words between your sobs: almost incoherent confessions of how worried you are about your partner and how confused you feel about your relationship. Which means Talbott must be able to hear them too. He must also hear Felix when he finally speaks into the silence that lingers in the wake of your rambling.

“Y/N, do you think...if you hadn’t met him, hadn’t dated him at school...would you have considered...me when I asked you? As something more than a friend?"

Your younger face scrunches up in confusion. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, I confess, I did fancy you a bit in my first year. Or, did you know that already? I wasn't much good at hiding it."

Felix's face turns bright red.

"I did not," he replies carefully. He tries to hide his blush behind his tea cup, but you see it and giggle around wet hiccoughs.

“There’s a face I don’t see often.”

Felix grins sheepishly. "Then, I suppose I ought to confess that I...I quite fancied you as well."

Your younger self nearly chokes on a sip of tea. "What, when I was 11?"

"No, I mean...for the last few years. Now, in fact."

You stop laughing, and Felix continues hastily.

"I know this might not be the best time to say it, but...it seems like there never is a best time. I've waited for years. I didn't want to - I mean - I wanted to wait until you weren't with him anymore, but Merlin knows when that will be. It doesn’t seem like anything he does will induce you to leave him. But he doesn't appreciate you, surely you can see that now? How could any man be so cold to you? Make you worry like this? Make you wait?"

"So...this whole time..." your younger self says in growing agitation, rising from the chair. "We weren't really friends? You were just...waiting for me to break up?"

"Of course not. I mean, of course we were friends. Are friends," Felix says, standing quickly. "I - I misspoke. I just thought...maybe it would help you to know...you have other options." He runs a hand through his hair. "This was the wrong time.”

"Yes, it was."

"I apologise," says Felix quietly. He looks so unhappy you wonder how your younger self can stand to be so cold to him. It's hard to remember a time when Felix, carefree and smiling, wasn't at the forefront of your desires. But, as you watch your younger self flee the house, you know that in spite of everything Felix had to offer, you had only ever been in love with one person.

"Talbott!"

The memory blurs into another, and your younger self is startled to see Talbott waiting for you in the street outside your flat. It's still pouring, and both of you are soaked to the skin. But Talbott is babbling, something you've never seen him do, and you're too shocked to suggest adjourning somewhere dry.

'I'm sorry," he says, taking your hands and clenching them between his own. "I'm so sorry. I know I'm - I can't say the things I mean. Even when I need to, when it's most important. But I do mean them. I mean... I love you."

"I love you, too," you're quick to assure him.

Talbott shakes his head, water flicking from the ends of his sopping hair. "I've never understood that. It didn't seem real, and... I think I've just been waiting all these years to lose you somehow. But I don't want to lose you. And I certainly don't want to be the reason why I lose you."

Your jaw goes slack. You know you ought to say something in response, but shock has frozen your tongue. This might be the most emotion Talbott has ever confessed at one time. He takes your stunned face in his hands. "What I’m saying is... I mean, I'm asking if you'll marry me."

A little bubble of joy grows in your chest. A bubble you force yourself to pop.

"Talbott, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just...I love you, so much. And the way you've been recently... I know you're hurting and I don't know why or how to help and it hurts me too, but... you're never going to lose me. We don't have to be married for that to be true. I'm yours, I'm always yours. I promise."

Talbott presses his mouth to yours in a crushing, breathless kiss. His lips know a language that communicates feeling better than his words ever can. You inhale his need for you and return it in kind. The rain dripping into your nose forces you to part for air.

"Please marry me," he whispers into your hair. "I want to. I want you. I want...us."

You can feel the joyous bubble expand within you, pushing everything else aside. Until there's no room for confusion or sadness or fear.

"Do you really mean that?"

Talbott can only nod, his words exhausted. But you see the answer in the spark of his yellow-gold eyes.

"Then, yes!" You cling to Talbott as though the rain might sweep him away. "Yes!"

Tears leak from your younger eyes, lost in the rivers of rain. It's a moment before you realise your older self is crying as well. You sob quietly into your hand, even as the mists swirl about once more, carrying away one of the most meaningful moments of your life. Lost, for so long. Like you promised Talbott you would never be.

How? the word pounds against your aching brain. How? How?

The rain fades into mist and the mist reforms into the inside of your flat. In spite of the light shining through the parted curtains, the room is oddly shadowed. There’ s something different about it. Something is missing you can’t quite put your finger on.

You hear a choking noise and turn to see Talbott, sitting at the table. There's a piece of parchment in his hand. His yellow-gold eyes are liquid, and as you watch, a tear rolls down his sharp nose. He makes another strangled choking sound, and you realise he's crying. Your memories may still be settling, but you're certain you've never seen Talbott cry before. The sight wrenches your heart from your chest. You want to throw your arms around him, even though you know he can't feel it.

Instead, you stare at the parchment in his hand. It begins, Dear Talbott, and it ends in your signature. The writing looks like yours, if a bit tidier than you usually bother with. You scan the contents of the letter, eyes widening with each line. You're leaving? You've changed your mind? You're marrying Felix Rosier, instead? You can't recall ever even thinking these things, let alone writing them down. A phrase jumps out at you from the parchment: You've never appreciated me, I see that now. The words are horribly familiar...and you blanch as you remember where you heard them.

The memory starts to dissolve. You glance around desperately. You want to re-read the letter again. You want to be absolutely sure before you allow the shadow in your mind to take full form. But the flat becomes the entryway to the enormous manor house you know so well. Beside you, Talbott steels himself with a breath, then pulls the bell.

The door opens, and Felix's wand appears first. He holds it just low enough to keep the minimum requirement for civility, but the threat is unmistakable.

"What do you want?" he asks Talbott coolly.

"I want to see Y/N."

Felix's eyes flick briefly over his shoulder as if checking for something. He replies in a lower voice:

"She has no wish to see you."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you like."

Felix attempts to close the door, but Talbott throws his shoulder against it. He squares up to Felix as if he might simply push past him. Neither man is particularly brawny, but Talbott has the height advantage. Their scuffle is quickly solved when Felix pokes his wand directly into Talbott's chest forcing him to step back.

"You did something to her, didn't you?" Talbott says, yellow-gold eyes bright with fury. "You wrote that letter. You...you kidnapped her."

A brief, hard swallow is the only indication of guilt Felix betrays.

"It hardly matters. It's over between you either way. Y/N is safe now, that's what's important. There's nothing you can do."

"You don't care about her safety!" Talbott's voice is almost a shout.

'Don't you dare!" Felix suddenly snarls, shocking both men into a short silence. Felix composes his face and continues more quietly, "Her safety is all I care about. And if it had mattered more to you, perhaps things would have been different."

The glint of concentration in Talbott's eyes is a look you've seen before. You know he's thinking quickly, debating his next move.

"You won't get away this," he finally says, his voice a soft and venomous hiss. "I won't let you."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

Without another word, Felix pushes the heavy front door closed. Just before it slams shut, you see a figure dart down the corridor behind him. You recognise your own wide eyes make contact with Talbott's in surprise. Then the mists swirl about you again. This time, they envelope your body like a whirlpool lifting you up, up, up...

Until you’re stumbling out of the Pensieve, reeling and gasping for air. You lean over the table, gripping the edge until your knuckles turn white. You take deep, slow breaths, your eyes closed. Your mind is whirling, frantically sorting through everything you've seen, everything you now remember.

Felix, you realise, and your insides twist sharply. Felix had done something to you. What? Your battered brain supplies a forgotten image of Felix's wand pointed at you, his eyes full of fear and pleading. His mouth moves frantically, but the memory still lacks sound.

Your own name being called tears you from your vision. You turn carefully, leaning against the table for support. The sudden recovery of everything your mind was missing is wreaking havoc with your body. Your knees wobble. You feel dizzy and seasick. And the sight that meets your eyes does nothing to settle your symptoms.

"Y/N!"

Felix says your name again, but he isn't looking at you. His eyes are on the wand Talbott aims at his chest. There are notes of concern in Felix's voice, but his wand arm, pointed at Talbott, is entirely steady. The two men watch each other, tensed for action. Both shoot quick glances your way, but neither can do more without dropping their defence.

"Are you alright?" Felix calls over his shoulder.

You blink, but don't answer. Your mind throbs so badly your vision blurs, but for once you know you can trust it.

"You lied to me." Your voice comes out a croak. You briefly wonder how long you've been in the Pensieve.

"What?" Felix sounds panicked.

"You did this to me," you say slowly, the words leaving a terrible taste in your mouth. You don't want them to be true. But the sound has caught up to the picture in your head of Felix's wand pointed at you. You can hear his spell clearly. "You...obliviated me. You made me forget. How...how could you do that?"

Felix tries to step closer, but Talbott sends a hex at the floorboard near his feet. With a snarl, Felix throws a curse back at Talbott. Talbott ducks and weaves to the side just in time. The spell hits the sofa, sending it flying against the wall with a crash. Both men straighten, and raise their wands at each other once more.

"Stop it!" you yell as loudly as your pounding head will allow. You hold your own wand out, but your arm shakes too much to be menacing. You fight a wave of nausea threatening to capsize your stomach. Both Talbott and Felix turn to you in concern. Felix is nearest. He shuffles backward toward you, still keeping his wand on Talbott.

"Take another step and I swear I will kill you."

You glance up at Talbott. You know from the set of his jaw and the glint of purpose in his yellow-gold eyes, he means exactly what he says.

"No." Both Talbott and Felix drop their wands a fraction, looking at you in varying degrees of surprise. "I want him to explain." You keep your face as expressionless as possible as you fix your eyes on Felix. "I want to know why you did this."

For once, Felix doesn't blush. Instead, colour drains from his face until its almost translucent. And when he speaks, his voice is as unsteady as your legs.

" Y/N, I swear, I didn't want to do it. But I had to! You wouldn't see reason. The Dark Lord, he - he considered you a threat. Ismelda Murk, she told him everything about you - everything you did at school. He wanted you dead, or on his side. I told you to leave...to run...to stay safe. But you wouldn't. You - he -" he spits the word in Talbott’s direction, "insisted you stay and fight.

"And for good reason," you say hotly. "The Dark Lord has to be stopped. He's evil."

"That doesn't matter!" Felix shouts. "This isn't about good and evil, it's about alive and dead. All I wanted was to keep you alive. You wouldn't listen to me, and I didn't know what else to do. I just wanted to keep you safe."

Felix's eyes are anguished, but you feel no compulsion to comfort him. Ice creeps through your veins, freezing your heart, shattering your sympathy.

"No you didn't." Your voice cracks with brittle fury. "You didn't care about keeping me safe. If you did, you would have just wiped my memory and sent me to France or America or somewhere he wouldn't find me. You didn't do this for me. You did this for you." Your voice rises in volume until you're almost shouting. "I chose Talbott. You wanted me, and I picked Talbott and you couldn't stand it."

"Because it's foolishness!" Felix bellows. A shower of red sparks erupt from his wand. "He's a frightened little bird, he can't keep you safe! He flies away at the first sign of a fight. I took you from him, and he didn't even attempt to come and find you. The way I would have. The way I always-"

Talbott's curse is completely silent. Purple light hits Felix in the chest and he falls heavily to the floor. He lays still, eyes closed, and you gasp in spite of yourself.

Talbott sprints the length of the flat in a second. He throws your arm about his shoulder, and half-drags you past the unmoving Felix.

Your stomach heaves as you ask, "Is he-"

"He's not dead," Talbott says viciously. "He's not worth anyone's soul."

You can't reply. Each step you take increases your risk of being sick all over Talbott, so you focus on your feet. Picking up one after the other. As you stumble out the door, you cannot help but look back. The sight of Felix crumpled on the floor sends a crack through your heart's icy veneer.

You want to tell Talbott to stop. You want to come up with a plan; something that will fix everything, the way you always do. But your mind is too exhausted to think anymore. You close your eyes and let Talbott wrap his arms around you, hoisting you down the stairs. When he reaches the bottom, he clutches you against him and disapparates.

You sleep. You don't know for how long. You're looking for someone, someone calling your name. A voice you know... a voice you trust. A face swims into focus and you smile as you recognise it. Then it points a wand at your chest, and the spell echoes over and over in your mind. Obliviate. Swirling mist wraps itself around your body, trapping your arms and legs, constricting your chest, your throat. You're sure your head is about to explode.

You jerk into consciousness, breathless and sweating. You fumble for Felix to wrap yourself in his arms, but the bed next to you is empty. And entirely too narrow to be yours.

Then you remember. You're in the house of an escaped convict who, it was explained to you, had been falsely convicted after being framed for murder by his purported victim, both of whom were also unregistered animagi. And somehow, that's only the second strangest revelation you're wrestling with.

Your wrap the blanket around you and take stock of yourself. Your head still hurts miserably. Most of your body aches as well. But your mind is the strongest it's been in a long time. Sleep has cleared away the last vestiges of fog. You know exactly who you are and what has happened to you. It's a cruel irony then how much you wish the last 24 hours were just an awful dream.

There's a knock at the door. You have no desire to talk to anyone at the moment. You open your mouth to say so when a voice calls, "Y/N, are you up?"

The tension in your shoulders eases a fraction as you recognise who it is.

"Yes. Come in."

The door creaks open slowly and Bill Weasley sidles inside carrying a tray.

"Mum wanted to make sure you ate something. She didn't get to feed you last night, and you know how she is. Thinks you might starve to death overnight."

The sound of Bill's nervous prattle is immensely comforting. Bill, the big brother you wish you'd had. Bill, whose advice you value above anyone else's. For him, you're able to manage a weak smile.

"I don't know if I can stomach anything just at present. But I might take a cup of tea if you have it."

Grinning in relief, Bill sets the tray down on the bed beside you. You take the steaming cup and hold it against your chest.

"So, how are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm..." You want to say fine, but your mouth can't even form the words. You simply stop talking and squeeze your eyes shut again.

"Yeah, that's sort of what I figured."

A few minutes gentle silence rests between you. You sip your tea, hoping the warm liquid will settle the roiling in your stomach. Deep down, you know it's futile. It isn't really your stomach that's sick, it's your heart. But you don't know how to deal with that problem just yet, so you focus on Bill instead.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you in Egypt?”

"Oh, I took a desk job to help out the Order. You knew that, didn't you?"

You shake your head. Bill flushes, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Oh. I guess it might have been after you..um..."

It's Bill's turn to trail away.

"I imagine I've missed quite a bit," you say as casually as you can, raising the cup to your lips again.

"Yeah, but...there'll be time to catch up on all that later. Mum isn't going to let anyone bother you till you’re well again. She's been terribly worried about you, you know. I mean, everyone has, but...when Talbott said you'd run off with that Death Eater, I thought Mum was going to march right up to the house herself and drag you out by your ear."

Bill chuckles, but you can't join him.

"How could anyone think I'd really done that? Joined You-Know-Who?"

Bill's face falls. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "No one liked it much. It didn't make any sense. But the way Talbott explained it you'd left some letter saying you...you loved him. And love can make people do pretty mad things."

You can't say anything to that.

"Do you...want to talk about it?"

You shake your head.

"Alright. I'll leave you alone, then."

Bill pushes off from the bed. He sets the tray of uneaten food on the bedside table, and starts for the door. His hand is just turning the knob when you call him back.

"Bill?"

Bill doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. He scoots onto the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You lay your head against his chest, and sob.

For days, you keep yourself locked in the dusty bedroom of Grimmauld Place. Food is brought to you, occasionally by Mrs Weasley or Bill, but you pretend to be asleep whenever they arrive. You wait until after they've left to choke down what food you can stomach. You know you need to eat, but hunger and thirst have both abandoned you.

Occasionally, you hear the sounds of gentle knocking or whispered conversations outside your door. You recognise the voices of your friends, wanting to see you, and Mrs Weasley shooing them away. You're glad for it. You aren't ready to speak to anybody.

Your ailment isn't a mystery to you. You know you're heartbroken, you just don't want to think about why. What does it say about you that you wake each morning craving the presence of the man who tricked you, lied to you, erased your memories? You can barely stomach the knowledge yourself. You don't want to think about what anyone else would say if they knew.

Instead, you sleep as much as possible, and wait for the pain to subside.

You're lying in bed one afternoon, letting the little sun the window permits warm your bones, when you're startled by the sound of shoes outside your door. You close your eyes, hoping whoever it is will see you sleeping and go away. But the door doesn't open. A scraping, scuffing noise reaches your ear. It stops, and the hall is quiet once more.

You wait for a count of ten, then roll over in bed and open your eye just a crack. Something is laying on the floor. Curious, you sit up. It’s a piece of parchment and a quill, stuffed under the crack in the door. You leave the shelter of the bed and tiptoe across the room. You pick up the parchment and read the word, Hey.

For the first time in days, you smile. Turning, you slide down the door and settle onto the ground. You listen to the breathing on the other side, and close your eyes.

This is what it felt like to be you, before Felix. When the only place you could ever imagine yourself, the only place you wanted to be, was with Talbott. The mysterious, awkward boy who tugged at your heart strings. The man that settled your soul and set fire to your body. To be back-to-back with Talbott again is the comfort you desperately needed. It's returning to your own bed at the end of a long, tiring day.

You turn to the parchment on your knees.

Hey yourself, you write and stuff the parchment and quill back under the door.

You can hear the faint scratch of the quill, then the parchment returns.

How are you feeling?

You mark out several answers before deciding on, I don't know.

That makes sense. Talbott leaves a few lines of space before, I've missed you.

You smile sadly. I missed you too.

Really? His reply is an eager scrawl.

Really. Even when I didn't know what I was missing, I knew I was missing something. And after I saw you in Diagon Alley, I knew deep down it was you. Even if I didn't know why. Somehow, this doesn’t seem like enough, so you add, I’m sorry.

It's not your fault, Talbott sends back. His handwriting is even. No ink blots or shaky pen strokes, nothing to suggest the statement is hard for him to admit.

I know, but I'm still sorry.

This time, Talbott's reply takes longer to reach you. So am I. I should have figured it out sooner. I should have known you wouldn't have left like that. I should have come after you.

You hesitate. But the whole point of the ritual is to communicate the things you need the other to know, but are too hard to say out loud. So you let yourself write, Why didn't you?

You can hear by the quill, stopping and starting again several times, how hard it is for Talbott to admit.

I did once. When you first got back from France. I did a fly-by of the house. But you were with him. You looked happy.

You stare at the words. You wonder what moment Talbott had caught you in. You and Felix reading in the study, glancing at each other over the tops of your books? Together at the piano, where you took every opportunity to brush your fingers against his? Dancing in the ballroom? Laughing in the kitchen? Or wrapped around each other in one of a million places all over the house? It makes your face burn to think of Talbott seeing you like that.

"Were you?"

You start at the sound of Talbott's voice as he whispers the words from around the closed door.

"Was I what?" you ask quickly.

"Were you happy?"

You release a long, deep sigh. "I...I don't know. I thought I was happy, but... I wasn't myself."

"Did you really...love him?" The word twists Talbott’s voice. You know how hard it must be for him to say.

"We were just friends, Talbott. I know I should have told you a long time ago, I just-"

"No," he interrupts, "I mean - when you...forgot me. Did you love him then?"

You don't know what to say. "He...he was very kind to me." It isn't really an answer to Talbott's question. But it’s all the confirmation he needs.

"Do you love him now?"

The answer sits on your tongue, heavy and uncomfortable. You want to spit it out, to confess. That’s what the ritual is for. But you can’t force it from your mouth. You sit frozen, unable to speak. You wonder if this is what it’s like to be Talbott.

“Even after you know what he did to you?” Talbott says, unable to keep bitterness out of his voice. “Even though he's a Death Eater?”

"He's not just a Death Eater," you snap. You only realise how defensive this is until it’s too late. There’s no sound from the other side of the door. Talbott’s breathing seems to have stopped. "I mean, he doesn't want to be a Death Eater. He's just...frightened."

Talbott doesn’t answer. You hear shoes slide against the floor. Then footsteps echo down the hall. You strain your ear until the only sound left is your own thudding heart beat. You have to close your eyes again to keep the tears from spilling.

You've spent days so lost in your longing for Felix, you forgot how badly you miss Talbott as well.

Part 3 | Masterpost

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plasticdodecagon · 4 years

Text

He knew

Happy Father’s Day! *pats fic* This baby can hold so much self-indulgence...

Synopsis: A few scenes reflecting on Felix Rosier’s relationship with his father and his relationship with his son.

For the sake of simplicity, I only focused on Jacob, Felix and Olivia’s oldest child. Felix��s relationship with Coco, their youngest, is a lot more interesting because she’s a lot more turbulent, actually requires discipline, etc. To be explored later, hopefully.

January 24, 2000

The baby was so small in Felix’s arms. Not abnormally so, according to the Mediwizards, who said that he was well within the normal range for a newborn. He had a strong set of lungs, based on the way he’d been screaming when he first entered the world. Overall, he was in perfect condition. And Felix couldn’t agree more as he held his small son in his arms, eyes fixed on his soft unharmed face, his beautiful eyes which had only seen people who loved him, his little fingers which had an entire life in front of him to grasp.

In the hospital bed, Olivia had fallen asleep, exhausted after twenty hours of labor. Twenty long hours, but worth it, for the debut of Jacob Laurence Rosier.

Felix didn’t know how long he held the baby in his arms, how long he stared at his sleeping son, memorizing every detail. He knew he would have to sleep eventually, too, but a mantra in his head kept him awake:

How will you mess him up?

July 8, 1974

Felix didn't have a wand to raise in the air, like the others---the family friends, the French cousins, complete strangers, all dressed in black. He, too, was dressed in black, in a suit that his mother had sent for him. (Sent from where? he’d asked his father. His only answer had been a correction of his grammar--From where did she send it?--and a dismissive silence.) It was suffocatingly heavy, though he didn’t dare complain. The only person who’d ever cared about his thoughts was his mother, and she was nowhere to be seen.

Felix tugged lightly on the elbow of his father, and whispered, "I want Maman."

His father made a noise that Felix understood well to mean, Be quiet, and wrenched his elbow away.

Everyone else in the field had gone silent, too. They lifted their wands in the darkness and stared straight ahead. At what, Felix did not dare to ask.

Later, too much later, he would learn that they had been staring at the coffin that contained his mother and that he would never see her again.

November 5, 1981

Felix had been allowed to miss classes for the day to watch his father’s trial. Of course, he wasn’t allowed into the courtroom, either, and so he spent the day waiting with his grandmother on an uncomfortable bench just outside, surrounded by reporters. She murmured for hours about how Felix was such a good son---how he wasn’t to say anything when his father left the courtroom, lest the press twist and turn his words---how he wasn’t to show any emotion at all---

But her words were forgotten when the door to the courtroom burst open. Two Aurors shoved his father out of the room, his hands bound behind his back, and continued to push him down the hallway. Reporters leapt up to capture the moment on camera.

“Father!” yelled Felix, jumping up from where he’d been sitting. Surprisingly strong hands on his shoulders, and a flash of bright light in his eyes, and tears obscuring his vision, kept him from running down the hall.

But there was no need. His father mumbled something to the Aurors, who paused their march, and allowed him to stop, turn, and look Felix in the eye. He gave him a long, hard look, before saying, “You disappoint me, son.”

June 30, 2000

As soon as his last meeting of the morning was over, Felix walked briskly from the seminar room, politely but concisely answering the questions of his colleagues and the new Dragonologists. By the time he entered the daycare and picked up his son, he’d managed to shake off all pursuers, leaving him alone with his baby boy.

As was customary, he carried him in his arms to the top of a hill, which overlooked a deep valley. Every so often, as Felix spooned mashed bananas into the boy’s mouth, a puff of smoke would rise from the valley.

“Fa?” asked Jacob, looking at Felix with wide brown eyes.

Felix returned his look with a smile. Was he trying to say father? “Yes, Jacob?”

“Fa,” he said again, pointing to the gray clouds below. Fire, not father, Felix realized. “Dag,” he declared proudly. “Dag fa.”

“Dragonfire,” agreed Felix, unable to control the smile that took over his face. “The fire is from the dragons,” he explained, though he realized that somehow---somehow---the baby knew. He’d seen smoke and knew it meant fire. He knew that fire most likely meant dragonfire.

“Daggafa,” said Jacob, nose scrunched up in concentration. “Duggafa.”

He was seven months old and still hadn’t said anything more complicated than “da” or “ma,” but here he was trying his hardest to eke out the word dragonfire. Felix’s heart swelled. “Slow down, mon lapin. One step at a time. Drag...”

By the end of his lunch break, the determined little boy had managed to say “dragon.”

December 25, 2011

As the sun rose over the horizon, Felix and Olivia sat on the steps of the back porch and watched their nine-year-old daughter fly circles around their sprawling backyard on her new broom.

“Not too high, chou-chou,” called Felix in warning. He’d only just gotten used to seeing Coco on the child’s training broom, which went six feet in the air and doubled his blood pressure with every inch. This new broom, a Christmas gift from Charlie Weasley? It would probably kill him.

“Why don’t you go inside?” suggested Olivia, lifting her head from where it rested on his shoulder. “Before you faint?”

“I can’t do that. What if something happens?”

“Do you think that St. Mungo’s pays me to look pretty?” countered Olivia, lifting an eyebrow.

Point taken. He kissed her, added, “If so, you are being severely underpaid,” and stepped inside to brew some tea.

In the kitchen, Jacob had his nose buried in a textbook, from which he looked up to say, “Oh. Hi, Dad.”

“What are you working on? Homework?”

“Potions reading. I like to read it twice, to make sure I...understand.”

“You’re enjoying your classes?” asked Felix.

“Yeah.”

“Making friends?”

“A few.”

Felix set to boiling water for tea, a vague worry in his chest. He and Jacob hadn’t really spoken since he’d been home for Christmas. He’d slept all the way home from the train station, and although he’d never been especially talkative, he seemed even less so now that he was back.

“Do you like your gobstones set?” tried Felix. “You said you were learning gobstones from your friend, so we thought you would... They have these new ones, now---they spit perfume or something more pleasant---but this is the one Mum and I used to use, when we started dating. But if you’d prefer a newer one---”

“It’s a good gift, Dad,” interrupted Jacob. “Thank you. Really.”

Felix leaned against the kitchen counter. Maybe he was imagining this distance between them. Or maybe it was something that happened to all children. Hadn’t he come back from his first year secretly questioning his father’s ideals? Of course, his father had been a blood supremacist and a murderer. And even so, Felix loved him...and wanted nothing more than to know that he was loved.

Felix cleared his throat. “I’ll stop interrupting you, but... I want you to know that there is nothing you could do to make me love you any less.”

Jacob gave him an unreadable look. When he spoke, his voice was quiet: “Even...being Sorted into Ravenclaw?”

Felix took a seat at the table, frowning. “Mon lapin. Is that what’s bothering you? What gave you that idea?”

“You spent all summer talking about the Rosier legacy...the Slytherin ambition that you saw in me...”

“I do see ambition in you, that’s true. And I see intelligence---Ravenclaw intelligence, like your mum. And I am deeply impressed by both. As far as the Rosier legacy goes, you and your sister come from a long line of...terrible, bigoted witches and wizards, many of whom happened to be in Slytherin. There are much better legacies to uphold. I only advocated for Slytherin to compete with your mum."

“Really?”

“Really. After you were Sorted, I had to wear a Ravenclaw sweater for a week while your mother teased me. But that is all that I lost. The most important house to me is this one: You, your sister, Mum, and me. I’m sorry I made you believe any differently.”

July 1, 2018

The Rosiers had brought a small army with them to help Jacob move into the Romanian dragon sanctuary. They'd finished completely by the early afternoon, and after a tour of the place given by Charlie Weasley, it was time to Floo back home: Jacob's friends, then Coco’s friends, then Coco. Olivia, after a long hug and an embarrassing number of kisses, paused outside the fireplace as Felix said his own farewell.

"Never turn your back on a dragon," instructed Felix. "Always be quick with your wand, and don't be afraid to use it---a powerful Stun won't hurt and could save your life. And never put off treating an injury. The Healers will yell at you---"

"And so will Mum," finished Jacob, nodding. At eighteen years old, he looked quite a bit like his namesake. The same round face, the same beaky nose, the same big brown eyes, the same brown hair. But he stood tall now, five foot eleven, and had inherited the prominent Rosier cheekbones. "I know, Dad. You taught me well."

"Just a reminder, then," said Felix. He wasn't naturally good at emotional exchanges and had spent much of the last eighteen years trying not to make the mistakes of his father. Still, he found it easier to slip into giving advice than to give voice to the profound mix of loss and love and pride he felt deep in his chest. "Listen to your teachers, to your supervisors. Stay on top of the schoolwork, too---you're---"

"---not just here to play with dragons," finished Jacob.

Point taken. He'd said this all before. Was it possible that there was nothing left to teach him?

“If you should find that you don't like it here,” continued Felix, “you'll always have a place in Wales." He'd been privately hoping that Jacob would choose to work with the Welsh Greens, and more importantly, with him, close to home. “You can always come home, in any case. But I... I expect you'll do well here. You're smarter than I was when I started. More responsible. You've grown into a fine young man. I'm proud of you, Jacob."

"I know, Dad," he answered, smiling slightly.

Felix pulled his son into a tight hug, a little overwhelmed, a little overjoyed. He knew. That was all Felix wanted, was for his kids to know. "I love you."

Jacob squeezed him back. "I know, Dad," he repeated, though his voice was a little tight. "I love you, too."

#can you tell which scenes i included at the very last moment #this is peak self-indulgence because almost none of this is even tangentially related to canon lol #this is like macaroni art level writing #but i've been wanting to write about my felix headcanons #felix rosier #olivia finch #jacob rosier #coco rosier #mc x felix #hogwarts mystery #hphm

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yourlocalgod · 4 years

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How can I not read fanfic right now when it's raining outside and I'm warm inside

#felix rosier x mc #felix x mc #felix hphm #hphm mc #merula snyde #winteriron #slytherin #hp aesthetic #harry potter hogwarts mystery #bucky x you

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ask-felix-rosier · 4 years

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Of Cookies and Slow Dances: a Felster fic

Cookies, easy enough to bake with the box having the instructions written on it…. Or Felix thought. It was supposed to be a surprise for his and his fiance’s anniversary, the keywords: supposed to be. Turns out, it proved to be pretty difficult because one; Felix and his fiance, Chester, lived in a muggle neighborhood which meant no magic and two, it was Chester who did all of the baking and last of all, Chester was to be returning home in about thirty minutes from the store with the random ingredients that Felix had written on the shopping list in order to buy time to bake the delicious treats.

Irritated, deflated and covered in a mixture of chocolate chip cookie dough and raw eggs, it took the ex Slytherin prefect awhile to realize that the thirty minutes had passed and his fiance had returned home with all the ingredients mentally checked off. The silence between the two men was deafening as they couldn’t find any words to say to the other so wordlessly they began to clean the kitchen until one of them decided to break the silence. It had to have been about five minutes into the silence t(felt way too long to the both of them) that Chester had decided to speak, “Felix, what happened?"

But, there was no reply.

What did happen?

Felix was not very sure himself as he stood in the middle of the kitchen facing the mixing bowl and hand mixer with a look of both betrayal and frustration. Sensing something was wrong, Chester took Felix’s hands in his to get a reaction and attention. Flicking his eyes to the hazel ones of his lover, the irritation and frustration from the mishap slowly eased into sadness.

The surprise was too be a casual candlelight dinner with the cookies as dessert but the dinner and unlit candles had turned out fine in the end. The tears that burned his eyes were almost immediate as Felix held Chester’s gaze, only turning his head slightly so that the salty streams could not be seen. All Felix could let out was a choked son and a broken ‘Im sorry’. Quickly, Chester pulled the crying man into his chest and started to whisper sweet words as his head rested on Felix’s dark locks while they swayed from side to side.

A few minutes later, Felix had calmed down enough to explain the whole situation with only small hiccups interrupting him now and then whole Ches stayed silent, listening intently to the explanation while still swaying them. After Felix finished, Chester couldn’t help the loving smile from spreading and the small chuckle erupting from his chest. Confused Felix had to slightly back away from the tall man to get a better look at his face to see what was so funny. Chester must’ve been a legilimens because before Felix could ask what was so amusing, Chester was already answering.

"You sent me on a wild goose chase just so you could surprise me with my favorite cookies?"

Flustered, Felix looked down while nodding lightly to confirm that, that was in fact exactly the idea. Chester couldn’t help the butterflies going haywire in his stomach, the way his cheeks hurt from the giant smile that seemed to have grown or how he just felt so happy and blessed to have Felix as his fiance. So, to show how much he was grateful, Ches pressed a light but sweet smooch to Felix’s forehead before pulling him back into his embrace once more before sending Felix to get cleaned up as he got the dinner set up and the candles lit.

Soon enough, the dinner was over though Felix still felt a tiny bit upset about the cookie disaster but Chester had a plan to cheer him up. Walking over to the speaker in their living room, Chester pressed play and walked back to Felix who still sat at the dinner table slightly confused as to what Chester was doing but hearing the slow music playing and seeing Chester holding out his hand as if to ask for a dance, realized what was going on and took the hand with a small smile.

Walking back into the living room, this time hand in hand with Felix, Chester had brought them into the middle where all the furniture was pushed slightly back to create a space suitable for the two of them to dance in without crashing into anything. Amused, the two bowed to one another, eliciting a laugh from Felix and making Chester’s smile to grow before for a third time that evening, pulled Felix back into him to start the gentle swaying that comes with slow dancing. Now, nothing else mattered in the world, for Felix had Chester and Chester had Felix, feeling content Felix let out a hum as he listened to the heartbeat of his lover with the music having finished long ago. Wanting to thank Chester, Felix pulled away only a tiny bit so he could wrap his arms around the others neck and bring him down to his height and seeing this, Chester did as requested but with a teasing smirk though that disappeared into one of slight confusion as Felix immediately kissed him as a silent 'thank you’ before placing his head on one of Chester’s shoulders while whispering, "Thank you, Mon Amour. Je t'aime.” A few hours later, Felix had pulled away with a slight yawn and started to clean up the dining table but was interrupted by Chester taking the dishes and placing them in the sink before swiftly walking back to pick up Felix in a bridal style with little to no objections from said male. It was late and they were both very tired but before they succumbed to the peaceful dreams as they laid in bed, Felix could barely hear the soft words that left Chester’s mouth but could make it out as,

“I love you too, sleep well love."

So this fic is why I asked about who was the baker and what the favorite cookie flavors were. Hope you like it and I apologise for the horrible punctuation job and spelling errors. --- THIS IS A SUBMISSION. ORIGINAL CONTENT BELONGS TO SUBMITTER!

#felster #felix rosier #chester davies #hphm #fester #felix rosier x chester davies #felix x chester #the gay bois #the bois #@ask-chester-davies did you see this!!!#submission

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ontowanderlust · 5 years

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Soulmate AU

Note: I have been in an uptown funk lately and I blame it on the mountain loads of paperworks and nonstop practicals we had to do for the past few weeks. I’ll be really thankful for anyone who has the audacity to zap a powerful lightning bolt on my school right now, really. (Please, you have my permission)

Anyway, this story was inspired by a dream a friend of mine had and well, she hated me for implanting and ranting soulmates ideas on her because now, she can’t stop dreaming about them. Frankly, I kept on doing it since her dreams are absolutely wonderful once you’ve listened to it. (She hates me because she started having beautiful dreams instead of these terrifying nightmares she used to have) However, due to me being busy during these past few weeks, I’ll be giving you a shorter version of this story so let’s just say, I owe you guys a longer story. Please do remind me about it, okay?

This is my contribution for Felix Week! -alia

Fandom: Potterverse

Pairing: MC x Felix Rosier

Prompt: Soulmate AU/ “Do you think the universe fights for some souls to be together?”

=Masterlist=

The sound of the pitter patter of their feet echoed through the empty hallways as it had always been every patrolling duty. And while the silence had always been welcomed to Felix, this time, he could feel his nerves bubbling inside him, not leaving him in peace if he don't act upon his question to her.

"You alright in there, Felix?" the sound of her melodic voice snapped him out of his inner struggle as she paused,gently yanking him from walking away from him. "You seemed distracted lately."

He let out a sigh. "It's nothing you should concern about." he dismissed her as he tried to resume their duty only for her to yank him back, surprising him with her strength.

"Was it the nightmares?" she prompted, making him sigh once more. Why had he told her about his nightly problems again?

Oh, yeah. She saw him trying to fend off sleep in their common room that one night.

He shook his head as he tried to pry her hand from his wrist only to pause at the sight of the scar that had decorated the inside of her wrist.

A keyhole shaped burn.

"W-where did you get this?" he mentally scolded himself at his slip but there are more pressing matters to attend to- the burn mark on this girl's wrist, precisely.

"It's nothing you should concern about," she whispered, gently withdrawing her hand despite the unsettling nerves inside of her as she resumed walking.

"Y/N," he called out, taking larger strides as he fell in step by step with her, his arm brushing against her despite the tension that hung between them.

He knew he had threaded within a sensitive topic but for his sanity's sake, he had to know.

After all...

He snapped himself out of his thoughts as he patiently waited for his companion's response. It may be his imagination but there was a tingling sensation on the inside of his wrist.

When there wasn't any response from the girl beside him, he let out a deep breath as he offered his arm for her to take as they resume their patrol, letting her see the inside of his wrist-

His key shaped birthmark.

"Tell me, Y/N..." he suddenly spoke as they let their pitter patter echo the empty hallways.

She looked up at him, matching his gaze- soft and inquisitive.

"...Do you think the universe fights for some souls to be together?"

#felixweek2k18 #felixrosierweek #day 2 #soulmate au #incomplete version #do you think the universe fights for some souls to be together?#hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #jacob’s sibling #felix rosier x mc #felix rosier x reader #felix rosier x jacob’s sibling #hphm felix rosier #sorry for the short post

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carewyncromwell · 8 months

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"But the tigers come at night With their voices soft as thunder, As they tear your hopes apart -- As they turn your dream to shame...!

You can take -- (And still I dream he'll come to me,) You can give... (That we will live the years together,) Let him be! (But there are dreams that cannot be,) Let him live! (And there are storms we cannot weather!)

If I die, let me die! Let him live..."

~"Bring Him Home/I Dreamed a Dream (mash-up)" by Adam Bayjou and Lucy O'Byrne

x~x~x~x

Talbott's Death's-Head-Hawkmoth bolo tie // original inspiration for Carewyn's dress

x~x~x~x

Hi all! Recently Hogwarts Mystery put out a rather underwhelming sidequest about Voldemort possibly returning to the Wizarding World, and I decided it'd be a great time to make some Second Wizarding War content for my girl Carewyn...specifically about the good friend she grew even closer to in that time, Talbott Winger!

Even at school, Talbott and Carewyn did discover they were truly "birds of a feather," upon becoming friends in their fourth year. They're both the type to put walls up around their hearts to hide their more fragile emotions, as well as to prefer the company of a few close friends to large crowds, and they both harbor a strong desire to improve the world around them despite the personal traumas of their respective childhoods. Post-Hogwarts both Talbott and Carewyn even pursue careers in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an Auror and lawyer, respectively, and it's with Talbott, his Auror partner Tonks, his Auror mentor Mad-Eye Moody, Hitwizard Ben, her own legal mentor Amelia Bones, and fellow lawyer Chester Davies that Carewyn ends up working with most closely, at the start of her career.

When the Second Wizarding War happened, though...well, that list of Ministry associates Talbott and Carewyn had accrued shrank very, very fast. Amelia Bones and her entire family was assassinated not long after Voldemort's return was fully revealed in the spring of 1995. Mad-Eye was killed in the summer of 1997 while trying to get Harry Potter to safety before his 17th birthday. Tonks had to immediately go into hiding after Bill Weasley's wedding due to her connection with the Order, and Ben had to go into hiding not long later from the newly formed Muggle-Born Registration Commission. Even Chester Davies ended up taking an assignment in Romania during a large stretch of the War, so as to support and protect his old associate and fellow Prefect Felix Rosier, who was a persistent mark for Death Eaters trying to force him to join their ranks. Several of Carewyn and Talbott's other friends outside the Ministry, like Chiara Lobosca, Barnaby Lee, and Bill Weasley, had also been forced underground to evade the Death Eaters. This left Talbott and Carewyn largely alone to deal with the blatant rot and evil that had corrupted their Department -- the place where they'd both so desperately wanted to make a difference, and yet now was forcing them to march lock-step with their disgusting whims.

Fortunately one other thing Talbott and Carewyn shared was their determination to not just cowardly shrink in the face of evil. And so covertly, both of them found a way to support the fight against Voldemort. Neither of them ever joined the Order of the Phoenix like Tonks did -- Carewyn had way too much negative feelings toward Dumbledore to ever accept him as her "commander," and Talbott preferred to follow his father's example and not explicitly join any formal organization -- but they were still valuable in their own way in opposing the Death Eaters. Carewyn smuggled intelligence out of the Ministry to anti-Voldemort causes and even took charge of the Ministry and put Umbridge under citizen's arrest during the Battle of Hogwarts. Talbott was a pivotal correspondent at Potterwatch (using the name "Raptor"), reporting on the glossed-over casualties of the War, but also frequently writing and reading aloud inspirational pieces to promote hope in Voldemort's disheartened victims. And they also worked together sometimes to smuggle prisoners out of the Ministry to safehouses, such as Carewyn's future "ward" Erik Apollo and eventual legal partner Orion Amari and his daughter Eos.

Although in retrospect, their fight was not in vain, and their eventual triumph could be seen as worth all of the turmoil and pain they suffered through, however, this doesn't mean that in the midst of it, Carewyn and Talbott didn't experience their fair share of despair, hopeless, and grief. One of these such moments was on Boxing Day, 1997, when Carewyn visited Talbott at his home in Godric's Hollow. He had called into work that day without any warning -- a very unusual occurrence -- and it prompted Carewyn right away to check on him. She arrived very late at night, when just about everyone else in Godric's Hollow was asleep -- and when Carewyn entered Talbott's Secret-guarded cottage, she found her friend collapsed in his armchair, his tear-stained face more worn and exhausted than Carewyn had just about ever seen it. Talbott had immediately bolted up at someone entering, wand raised, and had not relaxed even an molecule of an inch until they exchanged questions and answers that would verify each other's identity.

"What name did I call you, in the poem I wrote after we first met?" "'Looking-Glass Eyes.' What did you bring me on my first night in the Hospital Wing, after Rowan's death?" "A handwritten copy of the poem 'Immortality' by Claire Harner."

It was only then that Talbott slowly lowered his wand and, seeming a bit weak on his feet, swayed back to his armchair. Carewyn immediately rushed over to support her friend as he collapsed back down into it, wiping the moist mix of sweat and tears from his face.

"...Bathilda Bagshot is dead," he said at last.

Carewyn looked up, horrified.

"She'd kind of retreated into her house, these last few months," Talbott explained lowly. "An understandable thing, under the circumstances. But on Christmas, her house just blew up out of nowhere, and the Aurors were sent to investigate, and...well, even if Yaxley's crew tried to cover it all up, I saw her body, before they took it..."

Talbott's head fell as he closed his eyes, almost as if wanting to shut out the image.

"She'd been torn to pieces, Carewyn," he whispered. "Like some disgusting parasite had buried itself inside of her and then just ripped her apart..."

Carewyn slowly eased herself down onto the footstool beside his armchair, her blue eyes rippling with sorrow.

"Talbott, I'm so sorry...I know she was kind to you, when you first moved in here. Mum's always spoken so well of her -- everything I've ever heard of Bathilda Bagshot was how sweet and helpful she was..."

"She was a good woman," Talbott agreed.

He exhaled heavily through his nose as he slowly opened his eagle-like eyes.

"That's not all, though. After the fact, it came out that the reason the Aurors were called out so quickly was that 'Undesirable Number 1' may have been spotted in the vicinity of Bagshot's house."

Carewyn gave a start. "Potter?"

Talbott nodded.

"When I followed up with the rest of Potterwatch, they didn't have any real idea what he might've been doing there or what happened to Bagshot, while he was in her house...but Lupin thinks it's very likely he came to Godric's Hollow because it's where his parents died. If so...then it's possible that Bagshot found him and brought him back to her house, before whatever happened."

Carewyn's eyes softened with sadness. She knew full well Godric's Hollow hosted the old ruins of the Potter home -- she'd passed the old memorial a few times when she'd come to visit Talbott in the past. Talbott even walked over there with Carewyn, Tonks, and Chiara one Halloween not long after he first moved in, so they could all pay their respects.

"I know it's silly for me to wish I was there, but..." Talbott brought his head into his hand, his eyes falling down to the ground. "...He must've come to see his parents. They're buried in a plot only about ten feet away from where my parents are -- a plot I've visited on every holiday, bar this year..."

Talbott closed his eyes and hung his head.

"If I'd just visited this year, maybe I would've been there, when Potter was. He could've hidden out at my place instead -- I could've been more able to fight whatever attacked him and Bagshot -- "

"Talbott, don't blame yourself!" Carewyn said fiercely.

Her hand clutched at his arm, even as her eyes likewise fell down to the carpet, rather than remaining on him.

"...We don't know what it is that attacked Potter and Bagshot. For all we know, it could've been some elaborate trap set up by You-Know-Who, in case Potter ever showed up. After all, you moved here because your parents are buried here...it would make perfect sense if Potter wanted to visit this place as well..."

"Of course it does!" said Talbott, his voice strained. "That's all the more reason to wish I was there. I understand why he'd want to be here...I understand it probably more than anyone else..."

Carewyn's hand ran gently along Talbott's forearm, trying to comfort him. Talbott looked down at his own feet as he once again exhaled.

"Fred and George talk about him all the time. Lupin and Shacklebolt, as well. He's a lot like you, from what I gather -- modest and brave...with the ridiculous tendency to play the hero in every situation," the slightest of wry smiles flickered at the corners of his lips before quickly fading. "...Most of all...I gather he's never forgotten his parents. Lupin said once that the only real memories Potter has of his parents is of the night they died -- of them selflessly trying to save him, even as Vol -- the Dark Lord closed in..."

Talbott's lips twitched unhappily -- he hated the Taboo that forced him not to use Voldemort's real name.

"...I know I've never met the kid, but...I know what that's like. The not being able to forget. The knowledge that your parents gave everything, just so you could live. The shadow it casts over you...and how much it makes you fear losing anyone else...all those people who've become your family, in the place of the one you lost..."

His reddish eyes seemed to burn. Carewyn could feel waves of empathetic pain pooling off of her friend, even without him looking her right in the eye.

"I know it's silly, but...even if I don't really know Potter, and it's not like he'd have any reason to trust me in that circumstance when he doesn't know me from Adam...I wish I'd been there, for him. Because...I've been him, more than once."

The sorrow in Carewyn's eyes deepened. She bowed her head, and her forehead ended up lightly grazing the top of Talbott's head as she closed her eyes.

"You feeling that way is not silly," Carewyn said very softly. "It's noble. It's kind. And I know...if Potter is as much like you as he sounds to me...then he would appreciate knowing he wasn't alone."

Her low volume couldn't mask the strong emotions that choked her voice. Even though Talbott lacked Carewyn's flair for Legilimency, Talbott knew at his heart that -- like him -- Carewyn was likewise full of empathy for Potter's pain...because she, like both of them, also understood how much grief could isolate you...how much time could never take away the phantom pains of that loss.

Do not stand by my grave, and weep -- I am not there, I do not sleep...

The memory of the poem he'd given Carewyn after Rowan's death ran over Talbott's mind again as he looked up at his old friend. He took in the paleness of her face and the pain in her shut eyes, and he found himself bringing his own hand down to hold her arm, the way she was his. Talbott didn't speak, instead just keeping their posture as it was, with both of them leaning on each other and holding each other's arms.

Sometimes true solidarity -- true friendship -- requires no words.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my art #my writing #talbott winger #carewyn cromwell #harry potter #bathilda bagshot #nymphadora tonks #rowan khanna #voldemort

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domaslut · 1 year

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I WON’T CRUCIFY THE THINGS YOU DO (PART 2).

Part 1.

Pairings: Chester Davies x reader; Felix Rosier x reader

Warnings: angst, language, bits of fluff, references to cheating, Chester showing his dark side, possessive behavior, alcohol, cigarettes, manipulative behavior, some mention to sex, morally grey reader, post Hogwarts, the characters are in their twenties. Felix is kind of toxic in this one.

Plot: the day of your ‘date’ with Felix has come. You fill up Chester with the news and he gets lost into the depths of his mind. Apparently, your caring boyfriend has some secrets, but he is careful not to let you know about it. A few hours later, you find yourself at the Rosiers Manor and Felix does anything in his power to bring out the worst in you. Will you give in to the dark side?

[Please, read the first part of this short fan fiction on the following link: Part 1. ]

His owl had two piercing yellow eyes and shiny black feathers. You did not even get the chance to pet it, or let it rest. The rapacious bird flew away, leaving you with a piece of paper in your shaking hands. You watched it disappear into the white, fluffy clouds in the sky, your gaze followed it until all you could discern was a tiny black dot. Apparently, Felix was dead serious about your date.

Back in Diagon Alley, you thought you had lost Chester forever though. You were ready to risk it all, whatever was the price you had to pay. Now, however, Chester was back into your life, he had forgiven you. Were you still one hundred percent sure about going all the way down to have your friend back?

You hopped onto the counter, opening the letter with your heart thrumming into your chest. It was just a fake date, right? What could possibly go wrong? Hundreds of what ifs haunted your mind, depicting tragic scenarios before your eyes and the urge to scream became unbearable second by second. You were so lost into the depths of your mind that you had not noticed your boyfriend entering the kitchen and, when his hand settled on the top of your shoulder, you shrieked in fear under his gentle touch.

Chester frowned, shooting an apologetic glance at your shaking frame “Hey, it’s me. Are you alright, love?” he quietly asked.

You gulped nervously and fidgeted with the piece of paper in your hands. He knew you had met Felix, he knew those marks on your neck were his unrequired gift. You had told him that he had probably did it to provoke him, it was his message for Chester, a wicked game he had come up with to torture his former friend, rival and, nowadays, enemy. The thing was you did not tell him about the date. As long as a part of you knew it was best for him and your relationship not to reveal that little secret, you were conscious that lying about the contrived meeting with the dark wizard would have just been detrimental to your relationship.

“It’s Felix. – you feebly spoke out, folding the piece of paper in half – I have omitted a few details about our encounter in Diagon Alley” you admitted, eyes downcast as you heard Chester’s breath hitch at the mention of his name. You hated putting him through Hell, once again. The perks of being your partner consisted in misery and agony, didn’t they?

Chester nodded absent-mindedly “I’m listening” he just said, propping his hands on the edge of the counter, right beside you.

“He was all over me. I had to figure out a way to decline his avances without screwing up my plan… – you said, glancing at him to assess his reaction – I agreed on going on a date with him. Tonight” you blurted out, cheeks heating up in shame. Was he going to change his mind? He knew right from the start that you were going to be a spy, yet he did not know that you had been that idiot to sell out your body to the enemy. You were his girlfriend and, before the war broke out, he was planning to ask your hand.

A deafening silence swallowed you two for a few minutes. If it was not for the steady sound of the clock ticking, you would have thought time was frozen. None of you two dared to speak, or move. You felt numb, legs tingling and heart aching. You feared Chester’s judgment just as you feared his heavy gaze.

“Where?” he said then.

You frowned, taken aback by his simple question. You did not expect him to make a fuss about it, but certainly not to be that calm and collected.

“Chester…” you breathed out, discarding the letter on the counter to grasp his hand.

Your boyfriend stared at your hand, a small smile tugging the angles of his lips up “Tell me, have you ever taken your ring off?” he inquired then, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.

You smiled back at him, half-lidded eyes locking with his ones “I would never take it off. – you whispered, blushing slightly – When we broke up, this ring was the only trace of your existence you had left behind. It reminded me of the time we spent together and that, maybe, there was still hope for us. Further more, it’s a sapphire, it’s blue… It’s such a ravenclaw thing, you know” you said, washing away the saddness engulfing your stomach with a light laughter. You remembered the day he had gifted you with it and he did too.

It was almost Christmas and you had finally moved into your lovely apartment with your boyfriend. You heart was filled up with joy, you still could not believe the stressful days spent in picking up the forniture and sleeping on the floor, beside the fireplace, were finally gone. You were decorating the Christmas Tree, when you heard Chester clear his throat from behind you.

“May I have your attention, please?” he asked, dangling a small silver bag in front of him.

Your eyes grew round and you clasped a hand over your mouth “Oh, Chester, you really shouldn’t have…” you ranted, cocking your head to the side in distress. You both had spent way too much money on your home, it was not necessary to buy a gift for Christmas. You both had agreed on it, but your boyfriend would have rather died than leaving you without a present to unwrap.

“But this is not exactly a ‘Christamas present’! I had bought it months before we found this flat” he declared, pursing his lips in satisfaction.

You rolled your eyes at his remark and ambled towards him with curious eyes and a disapproving look plastered over your face. Why did he have to be so stubborn? Why did you always feel like he gave you more than you deserved? You had messed up countless times in your life, but he always had your back. Chester Davies was truly Heaven sent.

You grabbed the small bag, and dived your hand in it only for your fingers to meet what you assumed to be a box. When you pulled it out, you felt colors draining from your face and Chester chuckled in response, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You know, the ribbon is not going to untie itself. It’s not cursed, or enchanted, for what can matter… – Chester softly said, patiently waiting for you to open the pearly golden box in your hands – I have visited the Muggle London and I got to say that muggles have good taste, along with an extraordinary talent in manufacturing” he noted, earning a corncerned glance from you.

“What did you do?” you murmured, pulling the corner of the silky fabric and watching it sagging down at your feet. Chester smirked, he did not say a word, yet he encouraged you to lift up the lid of the box with a wink.

Back to the present, Chester nodded his head and cupped your cheek in hia calloused hand, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on your lips. You shivered when your mouths connected and the urge to disappear into his embrace became impellent. Still, you could not escape reality. There was something you had to deal with or, better yet, someone.

“And that’s enough for me, darling” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours.

“What do you mean?” he asked, batting your eyes closed.

“If you haven’t taken this ring off, it means you love me. – he explained, nuzzling his nose against your cheek – And as long as you do, nothing could break us” he said, pulling your closer to him. You obliged to his request of physical touch, your arms were loosely resting around his neck and your legs were parted to allow him to settle in between them. A comfort hug.

You bit down your lower lip softly, not to let a pathetic whine of despair to escape your throat and clutched the fabric of his shirt in your fists “Does it mean that you trust me?” you hesitantly asked him.

The former ravenclaw prefect ran his fingerd through your hair, eyes staring outside the window to wipe away the horrific scenes playing on repeat in his tormented mind. Felix Rosier was not going to stand between you two anymore. You never truly belonged to that bastard anyway. You meant nothing to your slytherin ‘friend’ and a part of him was glad he had hurt you through the years. However, did Felix meant something to you? Jealousy, rage and hatred filled his heart to the point he had planned to get rid of him, once and for all, if he had dared to touch you in any inappropriate way.

“Of course I trust you” he eventually answered, his fingertips digging into your waist and making you stiffen up. It was true, indeed. He trusted you. It was him he did not trust.

It happened almost one year ago. When Chester had entered the speak easy that infamous summer night, he did not expect to lock eyes with Felix Rosier. Neat hair, high cheekbones, a cigarette hanging from his lips and his typical smug grin greeting any lady passing by his table, the former Slytherin prefect was enjoying his day off from work.

“Where’s she?” Felix inquired, smoke flinging all around him as he exhaled through his nostrils. He truly resembled a dragon. It was true, then. The crest on the letters belonged to the Rosiers.

Chester slumped down onto the chair, a dreadful look in his eyes “That’s none of your business”.

Felix pouted, rolling his eyes in annoyance “Bloody hell, I was literally dying to see her! It’s your fault, isn’t it? I mean, she would have never turned down a reunion with her ‘best friend’… – he ranted, venom dripping from the words rolling out of his tongue – Let alone an order from her former prefect. She is a good pet, Chester, you know? She obeys, I like it!”.

He had crossed the line.

Chester launched himself towards him and grasped the collar of his white shirt, his face dangerously close to the other male’s one “Don’t give me the chance to fuck up your face, Rosier. I should have done it ages ago” he practically growled at his face, letting go of him abruptly.

Felix leant back on the backrest of his chair and bursted out laughing, a devious smile crossed his face as he pushed back some strands of hair fallen over his forehead “Woah, chill, Davies! It’s not like I get the chance to hang out with her that often. You throw my letters in the trashcan at the Ministry, she doesn’t know I’m looking for her”.

He knew then. How could he even think he was a step ahead of him? Felix was a snake, slithering undisturbed in the shadows and getting what he wanted without much effort.

“Screw you” Chester barked, through gritted teeth.

“If it was not because I do not want get kicked out of this nice place, I’d have the perfect comeback for this one! Something like ‘I’d rather have her do it for me’… – he jeered at him – Despite that, I am eager to know why you do not want us to meet. She is my… Uhm, friend, I guess. We have a lot to catch up with!” Felix innocently stated, taking a pull at his cigarette.

“Stay away from her. You are toxic, she is still recovering from your bravados back at your manor. You are just an arrogant, spoiled brat who can’t control himself. I am not going to let you ruin her” Chester spat, slamming a hand on the small table.

Felix grinned, putting out his cigarette on the silver ashtray “Tch, she’s already doomed, Davies. – Felix noted, glancing at his interlocutor briefly, before focusing on the ashtray again – You think I have ruined her and that, if we ever meet again, I am going to finish what I have started, don’t you? That’s bullshit, mon ami. She does have a dark side, I have seen it before. All I ever did was helping her to embrace her nature. Perhaps, all it takes to unleash the beast roaring inside her heart… Oh, oui, maybe it’s me! You don’t trust her around me, huh?” he blurted out, staring down at Chester as if he was trying to mess with his head.

Chester stood up, his hand twitching as he tried to resist the urge to draw his wand and kill him. He could feel it in the air: Felix was no good, he affected every human being standing on his path. He was bad for you, he was a menace.

“It’s quite the opposite. It’s not her I don’t trust. It’s you”.

The House Elf welcoming you in the majestic yet gloomy Rosier Manor looked depressed. Big, wary eyes staring at the marble floor, small and trembling frame the little creature had told you that Felix would have been there any minute. Your heart broke at the sad sight before your eyes and you bent down on your knees to give him a little comfort.

“You don’t have to bow your head. It’s okay, really. If you want, you can take a break” you whispered, smiling weakly at her.

The elf flicked her gaze up at you and was about to say something, but no sound left her lips. Her eyes opened wide and she hastily scurried away, disappearing in a dark alley on her right. He was there, right behind you. His presence was suffocating. You remembered the feeling it gave you, when he walked into your common room back at Hogwarts. All eyes on him, people did not dare to cross him.

“Bonsoir” he purred.

Your breath hitched and you whipped your head towards him, switching off your fear to act on your best behavior. Red painted lips curled up into a sardonic smile, you cocked your head to the side and let your eyes travel up and down his lean frame. A deadly poison, the perfect incarnation of a belladonna. Handsome, yet venomous.

“Ah, flawless as ever, I see” he complimented you, shooting an approving look at you.

You would have lied, if you said his words did not crawl underneath your skin. He perfectly knew how to act and what to say to fool around with you. He had done it countless times, he had played with your heart for years. Despite that, you owned a special place in your heart. Was he not your greatest weakness?

“And you are the full of yourself as per usual, I see” you countered back, mouth dry as he slowly stalked towards you. He smirked at your remark, cold sweat running down your bare shoulders as you fought back the urge to run away. The red flags were hanging from his back as a cape, but you could not simply leave. His dark eyes were magnetic, his presence alone prevented you from taking a false step.

“Then you are aware that I still always get what I want” he pinpointed, his breath suddenly fanning your lips.

When did he get so close to you? Did you zone out again? You shivered, fluttering your eyes closed not let his ones inspect yours. Your heart thrumming in your chest, you swallowed the limp in your throat and clenched your fists at your sides. Crescent bloody moons would have surely surfaced on your palms, if it was not for the black gloves separating your nails from your skin.

“What is it that you want?” you quipped.

A dark laughter rumbled in his chest, right before his forefinger and thumb grasped your chin and forced you to look back at him, straight into his black pitch pupils.

“Oh, sweetheart, isn’t it clear? – he paused, taunting you – It’s you, your heart, your soul, your darkness. Yeah, give in to me, just like you did in the good old days… Will you? We used to have so much fun together!” Felix Rosier, the villain in your story asked you.

Did you have fun with him? He did, no doubt about it. You could not talk about ‘memories’. Most of the nights you two spent together were just blurry bits of what you recalled once you sobered up. Yet, why could you not remember even a whole event.

“Strip out of your clothes for me”.

“Drink”.

“Good girl, you are the best”.

He was alluring you to enter the darkness once again. Your boyfriend was trying so hard to let you stand in the light. What were you going to do?

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I have finally posted the part 2 and, if it is even possible, I’m happier than ever. I guess that, if you are up for a third part, I’m down for it too! Let me know what you think about it!

And I guess I am a slave for “dark Felix” 😭❤️

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