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firstknightss · 3 years

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GWAINCELOT ESSAY THREE???

[commentary voice] ah yes and this gwaincelot essay.... which turned into a fic was inspired by @nextstopparis and @little-ligi

GWAINE TEACHING LANCELOT HOW TO READ. and thats how they actually CONFESS.

imagine gwaine seeing lancelot trip up reading leon’s plan for the day, seeing him trying to understand it. and gwaines, hes a little in love. Hes. Hes a little hit with feelings for this Noble (tm) knight. So OF COURSE he CANT EMOTION and he tries to show his affection for lancelot without yknow being in ‘loVE’

he comes over with his swishy hair and bantery tone like “oooOhHh LANCELOT! Lancey! Hey! Hello! Can’t read leon’s goddamn awful handwriting huh?”

And Lancelots embarrassed and flushes red and gwaine thinks hes Fucked Up (and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, this is the first time he’s actually felt emotions this deep for someone) and tries to fix it panickedly, like the Anxiety Clown He Is.

He keeps on saying sorry and apologising, and Lancelot, the EVER CALM KNIGHT GUY, goes “it’s fine, it’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you...” and then he hesitates. He HESITATES. “....it’s just that...” and then he BITES HIS LIP and gwaine thinks he might just faint there and then, “...i cant read.”

and now it hits him, gwaine, gwaine, who thought literacy was something trash and something he didn’t really need, realises how important it is. and so, yknow because hes kind of wrapped in those Emotions (tm), he pulls lancelot’s sleeve after practice, when they’re alone in the changing room. (and if lancelot wasn’t so tired and miserable, he would have easily seen gwaine BLUSH)

And he, shyly asks if lancelot wouldnt mind being tutored by him.

Now Lancelot is OVERJOYED, and he’s borderline CRYING because lancelot, poor old village boy lancelot who’d been kicked out of the knights of camelot, and had to become a MERCENARY and fight for masters who didn’t care for him, has NEVER HAD someone literally CARE about him so much. (Apart from Merlin. He loves merlin <3)

so now imagine lancelot waking up an hour early the next morning, and showing up into gwaine’s room. He knows gwaine literally doesnt sleep with a lock, so he just barges in, and starts shaking gwaine.

Now GWAINE sleeps like a Log (had so much shit going on irl, time to sleep it away) and when he opens his bleary eyes, seeing lancelot in one of his stupid v neck shirts over him, hes like “....h...helo??”

and lancelot’s all like. “We- werent YOU gonna give me reading lessons.” And gwaine nods, yawning (and in that moment lancelot thinks gwaine looks unimaginably cute, so cute that he wants to literally ruffle gwaine’s hair and run his hands through how silky and brown it is.)

THEN gwaine pulls on the dont care-ish mask, and makes his arms into a pillow under his head, as he leans against the wall behind his bed, in some kind of somewhat???flirty??? manner??? [i dont...i dont know what hes trying to do. On the other hand! Not does Lancelot :) ]

Lancelot, does not realise this is gwaine’s poor attempt at flirting - since he’s seen gwaine ACTUALLY flirting and this is like. Nothing. And its also poorly executed. Which is NOTHING like gwaine.

So he pulls gwaine’s arm, and half hauls him out of bed.

As gwaine’s head crashes into lancelot’s stomach, he can smell lancelot’s clothes. They smell of flowers, and cotton and everything so natural and gwaine, who literally smells of wine, and wood and Tavern. (And aftershave, or the 500AD equivalent)

[see here, see im trying to bring themes of dionysis okay. OkayyyyyyyyY. yours truly likes looking at greek mythology. And both these two complete dionysis]

Gwaine, in his sleepy stupor, nestles his head on Lancelot’s hip, who gives a sigh and stands there. One hand clutching gwaine’s, leaving the other free.....

....to rake through his soft, flowy brown hair. And twirl his fingers through its waves, and Gwaine cuddles in further.

And since Lancelot left the door open, Leon (the other bitch who wakes up at 4am to do idk nothing) sees them two...like that, illuminated by the SUNLIGHT behind them, and smiles a little.

And then he trips over the stairs, the moment is lost.

Gwaine and Lancelot pull away at the same time, and gwaine’s face turns back to “ha ha im a Jerk (tm)” and if he wasnt too busy trying to hide how flustered he was, he’d see Lancelot looking at him the way he used to look at GWEN.

They both blink and look at each other, understandingly, neither of them to speak of this again.

And then Gwaine drags himself out of bed, and Lancelot raises his eyebrows as he watches him (totally not checking him out) haul out a book from his cupboard.

Gwaine’s too sleepy for this, he keeps yawning and rubbing his eyes (looking like a cat, Lancelot notes) and Lancelot takes a deep breath, his eyes understanding.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Lancelot, I love..” he bites his tongue, cursing his half asleep mind “..doing this, and love hanging out with you...I just cant stay up this early.”

Reading lessons, from now on, are at 1:30am-whenever Gwaine and Lancelot stop rambling about Odysseus and Circe and Telemachus

[i dont know any other ancient books apart from like. Ancient greek/Roman ones. So i guess. Its not historically accurate,,,,BUUIT this is a fanfic for a pair who had like no scenes together SO i think i can take some ✨creative liberties✨]

Lancelot has heard of the journey of Aneas from travelling bards, singing songs in his native old english. Gwaine’s eyes are quick at latin, and he learnt the flaws of Romulus and Remus in his pure latin. Gwaine’s a good teacher, and lancelot is a quick study, and it’s not long before they’re arguing over which Goddess caused the most harm in the Illiad.

Gwaine’s never met someone who he could reveal that he loved reading to, he loved doing.

Lancelot’s never met someone who he could tell he couldn’t read, and ask if they could teach him, love learning.

They make it work.

The other knights notice, of course they notice. Percival notices how Lancelot stumbles into the Gwaine’s room at night, bright eyed. Elyan notices Lancelot and Gwaine’s voices from Gwaine’s room opposite him; sometimes slow, Gwaine speaking slowly and Lancelot following; sometimes heated and passionate.

(They’re arguing. They’re arguing about how to pronounce Minerva)

Merlin finds the two, in the early hours of the morning - when the birds are figuring what song they sing today - on Gwaine’s bed.

Gwaine leaned against the bedframe, his trousered legs splayed over the sheets. Loosely braided, long brown hair fell over his closed eyelids, his mouth in a small smile.

And Merlin follows his arm draped over Lancelot, snuggled beside him, his head on his broad shoulder, every breath of wind pushing against curly black hair, making it almost /bounce/. His eyes are covered by the other man’s hair, and he looks...content. More content than Merlin has ever seen him.

He slips out as quietly as he came in, and smirks, hes gotta tell arthur they finally got their shit together oh GOD

Its no surprise to anyone but them, when Arthur pulls Lancelot out of training, and into his chambers.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Lancelot.” He starts, his face geniune, his voice giving away hints of relief. (He thought he was never going to see his knight smile again after all the ordeals that had happened to him)

“Oh...” Lancelot’s heart sinks, “...how did you find out, Sire?”

Arthur blinks, taking in the change of mood in Lancelot, maybe it wasn’t anything important, maybe they were trying to keep it casual, hell they didnt want the king knowing.

“I- uh, I just noticed...” Goddamnit Merlin, and Goddamn his need to tell him everything he saw. (Merlin had advised him not to do this, as they sat on his bed after a long night. This was really his fault.)

Lancelot pales, and he places his hands down on the table beside him, palms slapping stone as he did so.

“Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth then,” his voice is quiet, and Arthur steps closer, “Sire I am not of Noble birth, and was born in a village - as you know.”

Arthur nods, his arms crossed, but his Kingly Bravado fell away at the sight of his knight, and one of his closest friends, being this vulnerable.

“Yes I know, but what does this ha-“

“And we children in the village we-“ he falters, “-we were never taught to read.”

“Yes, no I understand, I-“ he pauses, Lancelot’s words hitting him a bit too late, this was about literacy?

This, this whole conversation was about literacy?

Not being gay?

Merlin was going to have a field day

“Sire?”

“I understand Lancelot, and is this why you feel a little out of place with the other knights?” He carries it on, with a smile, he has a few questions to ask merlin.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked Gwaine to tutor me from time to time, although, the sessions carry through late into the night, which may have been affecting my performance at practice. I’ll have you know that this is a temporary th-“

“It’s fine Lancelot,” Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, “You are still exceptional at practice,”

“Thank you Sire,” Lancelot twinkles.

✨

“Theyre, theyre not together?” Merlin cant stop laughing, tears streaming down his face, “theyre not TOGETHER?? oh my God arthur what did you DO”

They sit together on Arthur’s bed, drinking wine from stemless cups together, with Arthur recounting the events of the day; red faced.

“I mean, it was your idea Merlin.”

“I just saw them, and I assumed...I didnt...I didnt think youd ASK them.”

“What do you think I’d do then?? Let them be on their merry way.”

“Yes!”

✨

“Do you like me?” Gwaine asks, unexpectedly, one night, the moon vibrant against the loud sea.

“You’re...tolerable...” Lancelot says, a smile tugging at his lips, as the silver moonlight falls against his hair, a halo around him.

✨

The knights give them the look every morning, as the two of them stumbled out of the same room, more frequently than ever.

Sometimes Lancelot would throw on Gwaine’s shirt, when he’d crumpled his own beyond repair. Sometimes Gwaine would put some of Lancelot’s hair oil on, when his hair was frizzy.

They gave each other knowing looks when Gwaine and Lancelot started whispering and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.

✨

And then Stupid gwaine had to go get fucking stabbed, and their delicate dance was like trying to waltz through a minefield.

Lancelot clutches onto Gwaine’s arm as Merlin feels his forehead with shaking hands.

“He’s burning up.”

“Infection...?” Lancelot sounds broken, and nods, fumbling with his pack to find some bandages.

It was just a simple quest; a save the day, get the girl, do various harmless shenanigans type of quest.

He’d half expected Gwaine to get the girl, and he cant help but give out a half choked laugh. Gwaine had no idea what hit him when she turned out to be the evil one all along.

He tries to forget that Gwaine showed no interest in her, he tries to forget that Gwaine’s been less frequent at the Tavern, he tries to forget that he hasn’t seen Gwaine with anyone since months now.

Gwaine, his beautiful Gwaine was lying on his lap, hot red blood rushing from his side, staining his polished chainmail with dark, sticky blood.

He’s been out for nearly an hour now, and Lancelot remembers carrying him, through the entire forest, forgetting his sword and his helmet and just grabbing Gwaine and getting the shit out of there.

Gwaine’s lack of self preservation was really rubbing off on Lancelot nowadays.

Merlin watches as Lancelot holds back tears, his own eyes stinging. Gwaine can’t die like this, he can’t die like this....

“hælan beorn adl”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and Lancelot could feel warmth coming back into the fingers he was grabbing.

He was coming back.

And then the weight of everything hits him.

He was in Fucking Love.

✨

“Hey.” Gwaine’s voice is rough from disuse, but Lancelot nearly sobs when he hears the voice.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again, amor meus.” He puts his head down on Gwaine’s chest; finding the hammering of his heart calming.

He shimmies onto Merlin’s bed, which Gwaine had been lying in for the past few days.

“Did you mean, ami meus?” Gwaine sounds tired, too tired to be awake.

“Huh? Did i say something else?” Lancelot decides to play dumb, a sparkle in his eyes,

“I thought I heard amor meus,” Gwaine pushes his nose into Lancelot’s hair, taking in the wonderful smell of coconut.

“Well then, at least your hearing’s okay, amor meus.”

Gwaine gulped, and was sure Lancelot could hear his loud swallow.

“Lancelot, I hope this isnt a big joke with me teachin you latin and all,” Gwaine’s voice is a little wobbly from the slee deprivation and the magic and the pain numbers, “because I’ll have you know that I really love you, and I cant go on like this any longer,”

“Its okay Gwaine, I learnt latin from the man I love, of course it’s not a joke.”

“The man you love? Who’s tha-“

Realisation hits him like a brick.

Oh.

“Me?” His voice cracks, and Lancelot looks up, a smirk on his face.

“Of course dumbass.”

“Like I’m meant to know that,” Gwaine tries to keep his dont care-ish aura, but they both know he’s too exhausted to keep that up.

“mmm?”

Gwaine kisses him on the nose, and he wraps himself around him.

And thats how Merlin finds them later that day, eyes blinking as he stood there.

✨

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Lancelot.” Arthur coughs.

“Is that what that whole talk was about???”

“Answer the question.” His words sound harsh, but he’s barely hiding a smile.

“I’m glad too, I’m Glad I found Gwaine too.” Lancelot blushes, turning to gwaine.

“Why are you asking anyway, Princess?”

“Oh just, making sure this time.”

#shit this turned into a fic #im sorry #uhh #gwainecelot #gwaine #lancelot #gwaine x Lancelot #gwaine/lancelot #i should post this onto ao3 #but like. fix it up first #fun times #first tumblr fic yall #im growing!!!#IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AN ESSAY WHAT IS THIS #gwaincelot #im SO sorry

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alovesongshewrote · 3 years

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What Do We Do With - A Sad Bounty Hunter | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot: You're a badass bounty hunter sent by the Arcane Order (Posse) to kill one Hisirdoux Casperan. There’s just one problem. He’s literally to nice to kill. [Hisirdoux Casperan x GenderNeutral!Reader]

Word Count: 1,362

Warnings: mentions of murder in passing

A/N: nyeh

Taglist: @furblrwurblr @einahpetsyarcip @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05 @blixeon @yagirlcheesely

You never expect a barista to be a deadly bounty hunter, but sometimes they just are. This was a lesson Douxie had to learn, and you were glad to teach him.

You’d been posing as a coffee shop employee for a while, spending most shifts watching the wizard working in the attached book store. The man really let his guard down while on shift. Or maybe he didn’t. You never really got close enough to tell. You did, however, get close enough to see what a good person he was. Whether he was assisting a lost child, an elderly patron, or a coworker, the boy exuded kindness. He was cute and charming and a bit of a cheek, which you were always down for. Also, he said ‘Fuzzbuckets’ instead of ‘fuck,’ which you loved. The kindness, though, that was sickening, sickening in your opinion. That’s a lie you told yourself. You tell a lot of those, watch out for them.

In truth, the wizard’s kindness was what kept him alive. Usually, when someone had a price on their head, they weren’t a very good person. You’d brought in killers, magical dictators, and man-eating monsters, but you’d never had a target quite like Hisirdoux Casperan.

So, you hesitated. Every time you got a chance to kill him, you waited, biding your time and lying to yourself. Mission failed, we’ll get him next time, except there was never a next time. You had the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair, and your moral compass was a roulette wheel, but you still felt guilty about taking the life of someone so good. You knew the world would be a darker place without him in it, and the world you’d seen needed as much light as it could get.

Unfortunately, your sudden sense of morality was about to cause several problems. The group who’d put the price on Casperan’s head in the first place (the Arcane Posse or something?) were growing impatient. They wanted the poor man dead and they wanted it as soon as possible, so they did what anyone else would do and hired someone else to kill him. In any other situation, you may have been offended. You were a professional, and you were taking your time, so the Posse could sit there and wait, ok? In this particular case, though, you knew deep down that you had no plans to take the wizard’s life.

So, no, this time you weren’t offended. You were determined. That wizard dude was a good person and you were determined to keep him alive. With that determination on your side, you kept calm and carried on, breaking into Douxie’s apartment like any rational bounty hunter turned bodyguard, completely unaware of the mess you were about to crash into.

It was safe to say that the wizard was more than a little surprised when you smashed through his window, “FUZZBUCKETS, WHAT THE H- wait a tick, don’t you work at the coffee shop?”

You nodded, glad that he remembered you. It can be nice to be perceived, “Yeah, I do, and I was supposed to kill you but I decided against it. Anyway, your life is in danger, so come with me if you want to live.”

His mouth dropped open, his brow furrowed, and you watched his eyes cloud over as he searched desperately for a response to that. He was spared from that, though, by the small green being who walked into the room, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She was probably the forest child that the Arcane Posse wanted so badly. On her shoulder sat a black cat. He was wearing glasses, and you weren’t sure if he actually needed them, or if it was a stylistic choice. When the forest child started speaking, you decided it didn’t matter.

“Douxie? Who is this?”

“Uh, this is-”

“I’m (Y/N). I was sent by the Arcane to kill Douxie, but I took too long and now we’re all in deep shit.”

The cat leapt off the forest child’s shoulder and landed, gracefully, on the floor, “Wonderful. Simply fantastic. Why should we believe you? We don’t know who you are, and this could be a ploy to kill all of us.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but the cat had a good point, so you just answered him, “You should believe me because I haven’t killed you yet. Now, we should run, because the new assassin’ll be here soon, and he won’t hesitate as I did.”

Douxie shook his head while his cat kept up the conversation, “That isn’t a great defence. Did you not say you were sent to kill Douxie?”

“I did, and that kind of proves my point. Why would I tell you I was here to kill him if I still wanted to kill him?”

“To make us think you weren’t going to kill him!”

“That isn’t working for me very well, is it?”

“Of course it’s not! You’re just here to kill him!”

“I am not!”

“Oh come off it, you obviously are!”

“No I am not, if I wanted to I would have done it already!”

“Or is that just a ploy!?”

“Okay, both of you shut it,” the wizard you were arguing over was rubbing his temples and trying very hard not to scream. He was not in the mood for this. All he wanted was a cup of tea, and then his cute coworker turned would-be assassin broke into his house and caused problems. Probably on purpose. This was not his day.

You took in Douxie’s state and sighed. You wanted to protect him, not give him a headache. Whatever, it didn’t matter, you could still watch him from afar, “Look, if you don’t want to listen, fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. For now, I’m out. See you at work.”

And with that, you walked towards the door, fully intending to walk out like a civilized human being after breaking in like some common bitch.

The cat snorted, something you were unaware that cats could do, “Good riddance.”

You’d almost reached your destination when you felt a small tug on your pants. It was the green being, Nari. She stared up at you with huge yellow eyes, tilting her head slightly. You mirrored her actions until she looked up at Douxie.

“You should believe them. The Order has many servants at their disposal, but none of them would admit it so willingly.”

Ohhhhhhhh, the Arcane Order. You were still going to call them the Arcane Posse, at least internally.

Douxie, unaware of your silent discovery, sighed and crossed the room to your side, kneeling down to Nari’s height, just as he did when speaking to small children at the bookstore. It reminded you of why you were here.

“Nari, are you sure we can trust them?”

“Yes. I trust that they will protect us.”

You smirked while the talking cat groaned, “Douxie, you aren’t actually considering this, are you?”

The wizard sighed, closing his eyes and burying his head in his hands. He did not need this right now. What he needed was a nap and a cup of tea. Instead, he had a cute assassin, a troubled forest spirit, and a grumpy familiar, all of them on his ass to make a choice. When did this become his life? Probably when Merlin died. He didn’t have time to spiral, though, he had to make a decision, and yes, he was considering this.

And when he said as much, a smile split your face.

Despite the situation, Douxie found your cheeky grin a nice sight to see. Nice, especially, in contrast to his very dramatic familiar who, at that moment, had his head shoved against a wall in general disappointment. The wizard felt bad, but you didn’t care too much. You were just glad you could keep them safe.

“Alright then,” you said, cracking your neck, “Here’s the plan.”

#hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux imagine #angst #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #toa hisirdoux

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squibstress · 3 years

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#Snapemas2020 - Chanson de Severus

For Day 10: Slippery Slope

This strange little fic was written way back in 2010, inspired by Elvis Costello’s super-creepy “I Want You”, and a nasty little plot bunny was born. Not even plot, really; just. . . well, you’ll see, if you read it.

Rated R. Content Warning for intimate partner abuse.

I want you Did you mean to tell me but seem to forget I want you Since when were you so generous and inarticulate.

Elvis Costello, “I Want You”

The man who sits on the edge of the bed might be Petrified, except for the steady rise-and-fall of shoulders that is the only sign of animation in the room.

Wait, scratch that. The photograph on the bedside table—that’s moving too.

Rewind.

The man who sits on the edge of the bed, etc.

The long, white beard of the man in the picture is blowing in time with an unseen breeze, and the gnarled hand that sticks out from the absurd robes waves obscenely. The old man’s sea-blue eyes twinkle, damn him.

Respiring or not, Severus Snape is a dead man.

Dead, for all intents and purposes, as the woman whose unblinking eyes hold his gaze to the corner of the small but elegant bedroom she so recently occupied. If the eyes, which she also occupied until precisely 10:24 p.m. GMT, no longer hold any terror for him, neither do they hold the promise of amusement, nor desire, nor denial, nor any of the other nouns in the mute lexicon he and she shared. Still, they command his attention.

Merlin-like, he lives backwards in time.

~oOo~

The first time it happened, they could pretend it was an accident. He came to her broken in body and bloody in mind, and she took him in and healed his wounds and soothed his soul (he had one, he was sure of it), first with her wand and her hands, then with her body. She had wounds too, he discovered, though none so visible as his.

He wept afterwards.

The next day, he retreated into the dark double-life he had inhabited for sixteen years, and she stepped out into the first blinding-bright morning of hers.

~oOo~

It was love. He knew that as surely and suddenly as he knew that the Dark Lord was a madman and that Albus Dumbledore was a bastard. She was the first woman who had looked at him and said to herself, This will do.

For him, it was forever. For her, it was for now.

He knew that, didn’t he?

She came to him with her doubts about Harry Potter, and the war, and, finally, about Dumbledore. The Headmaster hid things from her, she told him; she knew that, and she was mostly content to leave the whats and the wheres and the hows to Albus. She came to Severus for the why.

It was several weeks before he realised that he was a reagent of sorts. She needed him only to test the boundaries of her love for the man whose ring she wore.

He didn’t care.

Did he?

~oOo~

He cared.

He had never been loved, so perhaps he didn’t recognise it, but he needed to know. His Slytherin subtlety failed him, so he played Gryffindor for once and asked her outright.

She huffled and puffled around the question, then evaded it altogether by dropping to her knees and sucking his cock for the first time as he clawed his way through her raven hair.

~oOo~

He watched. He was good at that, being a spy. He was not so much bat—as the snot-nosed scholars of Potions would have it—as spider, of the family Salticidae: he of the excellent vision and lying-in-wait.

It was there in the way their hands brushed behind the chair as she passed him to take her seat at his right in the Great Hall. But it was her eloquent shoulders that ultimately gave her away: the way they relaxed, imperceptibly to everyone but him, when the tall, elderly wizard reappeared after one or the other of his mysterious absences.

One night, after Dumbledore returned, hand crisp with the nameless curse running inexorably through his blood and magic, Severus tended him with care, then left him to her. She came immediately from Albus’s bedside to Severus’s bed, and then she came again and again, as his pale, long-fingered hands tended her with care.

This time it was she who wept.

~oOo~

“I think he knows.”

“Why?”

“He said something.”

“What?”

“That I should take care of you. When he’s gone.”

“And will you?”

“How do you know he’ll be gone before you?”

“Your compassion is staggering.”

“As is yours.”

“Come here.”

“Be careful. You left a mark last time.”

“Where?”

“Here.”

“Did he remark on the mark?”

“He did not.”

“But he saw it.”

“We must assume that he did.”

“Get up. Get out.”

“Yes, Professor.”

~oOo~

He didn’t see her again for weeks.

Correction: he saw her. He just didn’t see her alone. But he saw her. He saw her and he watched and he listened.

The old man was wooing her. It didn’t take a master spy to notice it, either. Even that masturbatory marvel of a Potions professor, Slughorn, sussed it out. Made unsubtle—for a Slytherin—and unfunny—for anyone—jokes about it to Severus, of all people, thinking him, perhaps, a fellow traveller.

She was lapping it up, the bitch. Or rather, the queen, to coin a term more appropriate to her alter-species.

~oOo~

He sought her out in the high tower. The light hurt his spider-eyes, but he didn’t care anymore.

He made her see stars, then they scuttled back down to the dungeons where they were both more comfortable, he out of custom, she out of a need for obscurity.

Touching her, he saw more clearly in the dark, and in time, she would see too.

Need could be love. He believed this.

~oOo~

The first time he hit her, she hit him back. Not the next time, though.

~oOo~

One night, when she cried out unexpectedly, he magicked the lights on. The dusky lividity on the patch of flesh he had not yet touched told a story he could not ignore because it did not include him.

He interrogated her until she wept, and refused to fuck her until she told him what he wanted to know. When she left, shaking and sated, he cried into his greasy pillow like a girl.

He told her about it the next time, and she told him not to waste his tears. He thought she said it to make him strike her, so he didn’t do it. Instead, he licked her like a cat until she purred.

~oOo~

The days grew longer, and the time shorter, and the shorter it grew, the more he thought about the old man and the woman.

She still shared the Headmaster’s bed, and although it no longer infuriated him, it obsessed him. The quizzes became routine. When? Where? How?

She had learned to answer his every inquiry; as soon as his questions no longer tortured her, they began to torment him. She answered forthrightly, as she did everything else—well, almost everything—and still he was drowning in interrogatories. They rushed in like the ocean to fill the void left by each answer.

Exempli gratia:

1. Why, when she had use of the old man’s heart and body and mind, did she keep coming down to the dungeons from on high to avail herself of Severus’s meagre-by-comparison gifts?

2. Which would she choose, if she had to choose?

He broke down and asked her, and she laughed, saying, “Just take care that I dinna have tae choose, Severus.”

For the first time since forever, he wanted to live. He had questions.

~oOo~

Legilimency provided no relief, except that it left her as breathless and glassy-eyed as it left him panting and granite-hard. That was a comfort, anyway.

He watched. He watched them in moments banal as budgeting. He watched them eating and sleeping and pissing. He watched them fuck and he watched them make love, and thus he discovered the difference.

He watched them argue, and saw how the old man never hit her, even when she was cruel. He watched them reconcile, and saw how the old man always made her scream with pleasure when he pressed her to the bed or the desk or the floor—wherever they happened to be when the argument hissed its last. At least, he thought it was pleasure; she never said.

~oOo~

Dumbledore was to die; he knew it and the old man knew it. The only one who didn’t know it was the woman they shared. No, not shared. Sharing implies complicity and harmony. Only Dumbledore was complicit and harmonious; Severus was a contrapuntal party to the triad, and she? She was the melody that ran through them both.

In the end, it would be him. It was predestined; the old man had spoken, and nothing she could say or do would alter it by a single note, even if she had been in on the joke. They both danced to the Headmaster’s tune, but Severus no longer wanted to change it.

He wanted to live, and he wanted her to live with him.

~oOo~

At day’s end and upon waking, he spun plans. And in between, he scowled. He skulked. He billowed. In short, he was himself, but to this glossary of Snape-verbs he added “plotted.”

When the deed was done he would sweep her away, take both of them out of the reach of his two masters. Correction: one master. By that point, he would be in the service of only one, his duty to the old man being fulfilled.

No longer would he watch. He would live, and he would live with her.

Correction: for her.

~oOo~

She didn’t believe him.

He only discovered his mistake when he went to her after (but before the Potter brat had raised the general alarm), and she laughed.

When he dragged her to the window to see the Dark Mark floating high above the castle, though, then she believed.

But it stung like a hex, her initial refusal to understand what he had done and why. Time was short, and she had to see that her way was clear. He was her way and always would be.

She could be cruel, he knew that, but he never expected this. Not this wilful, hurtful blindness. She closed her eyes and would not look at him. He tried again and again to make her, until he was so close he could feel her breath coming in short, moist puffs against his neck.

She didn’t open her eyes until his long-fingered hands closed around her throat. Then she looked at him, her irises boring green fury into his brown. He was patient, and waited until the fury turned to terror, and still he waited, squeezing, but the eyes never held what he craved. He followed them down as her own hands lost their force and dropped from his forearms—one desperate, futile clawing for her wand their final act—until the irises rested at knee-level, unseeing.

He moved away until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he sat.

And he watched, still as death.

#snapemas2020 #fic #Harry Potter #severus snape #minerva mcgonagall

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deadlydollies13 · 7 years

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The Potion Master’s Grace ch. 18

Grace’s heart pounded loudly against her chest, sure that everyone in the room could hear it. “Grace? What’s wrong?” Severus took a cautious step towards her. She couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear anything but herself hyperventilating and her heart about to beat out of her chest, which now had a sharp-shooting pain through it. Her brain was screaming at her; not words, just really loud static and a long “Aaaahhhhh!” She shut her eyes tight and put her hands over her ears, but it didn’t stop. She also must’ve been saying, “no” over and over, but couldn’t hear herself say it, only feel her mouth moving. “She’s having an anxiety attack,” Luna said, and instantly Severus was at her side. He tried to pry her hands from her ears, tried to calm her down, but she kept shaking her head. “Grace! Gracie, it’s me, please!” he pleaded. Her legs started to give and he was the only support keeping her from crashing to the ground. She couldn’t feel her body. It was like she was there, but wasn’t there at the same time. She was numb. All at once, her hyperventilating stopped, her brain was silent, and everything went black.

Grace woke up on the couch. She was hooked up to her oxygen again and there was a cool washcloth on her forehead. It had to have been Phoebe, Severus often panicked and froze on parental instincts in these moments. She wanted to sit up, see where everyone had gone, but her body felt so heavy. But she could hear their voices from down the hall.

Inside Severus’ study, he, Phoebe, and Luna all stared at the envelope before them. “Who’s Adina?” Phoebe asked. “Her mother, of course,” Luna said reaching for the envelope and tearing it open. “Luna!” “Grace will never open it!” She read over the letter, distaste written all over her face. “Her mother is at a rehabilitation center and she’s finally allowed visitors so she wants Grace to come.” She folded the letter back up and tossed it back on the table like it burned her to touch it. “It’s entirely up to Grace if she goes,” Severus said. “And if she does, you’ll go with her,” Luna’s voice was stern, a tone rarely voiced by the girl. “Shouldn’t Grace confront her alone?” Phoebe asked. “No! After what that woman did to her? Grace will either have a mental breakdown and do something stupid, or murder Adina right there! Grace is strong, but she’s not mentally stable enough to do this alone! She needs Severus there! For once in her life, she has a damn support system and she’s put all of her reliance on him! And that’s final!” Both adults gaped at the teenager. They’d never seen her so serious, so furious about something, it was scary. Luna was the closest one out of all three to Grace, she knew Grace’s thoughts and secrets, and the extent of what Adina had done to Grace. So they knew best not to argue, and just nodded their heads. Luna grabbed the letter and left the room. Severus looked at Phoebe, she shrugged, “Don’t look at me! She gets that from her father, her mother was chill about everything. She’s right though. You should go with Grace if she chooses to go.” “You’d really think I’d let Gracie go all the way to Ireland alone?” “No,” she smirked. “But, it was pretty funny seeing you cower at Luna’s yelling.” “I did not cower.” “You so did!! It was cute though,” she kissed him on his cheek. “Just like your face when I do that,” and she winked and walked away. “I really wish I hated you.” “Funny how our emotions have a way of betraying us!”

Grace’s head was in Luna’s lap as she braided her hair into dozens of sections. They sat watching Netflix, only talking ever so often, but the conversations weren’t very long. It was just easier not to talk. Of course, Luna had texted Draco what happened, who then called Grace freaking out, already having one foot out the door before Grace calmed him down and told him that she was fine and she’d see him soon. She didn't want Draco to constantly worry about her, that wasn’t fair to him. “I’m gonna go,” Grace murmured as an episode of Doctor Who ended. “Grace, you don’t have to.” “No, I do. Now that she knows where I am, she won’t quit pestering me until I do. So I’ll go in person and tell her to fuck off.” “She is a crazy bitch.” Grace snorted, “You don’t even know the half of it. I’ll go the day after tomorrow.” “Yeah, tomorrow we’ll do a little retail therapy.” “I gotta get dad a phone.” “Oh, Merlin. That should be interesting.”

And it was. “Grace, I don’t need a phone,” Severus said as he watched his daughter set it up. “Yes, you do. What if there’s an emergency? Or… something.” “I don’t even know how to use it!” “Well, aren’t you glad that you have me around to get you caught up on technology? Honestly, dad, it’s the 21st century. Get with it.” He turned to Phoebe, “Did… Was I just called old?” He turned back to Grace, “Did you just call me old? Seriously? Grace Audrey McClivert-Snape, I was twenty when you were born, okay? Dumbledore is, old. I am not.” “Mhm,” she smirked. “Want me to make the text larger so you can read it better?” “What happened to the sweet little Ravenclaw that barely said a word, and when she did, she was always so polite? Huh? Now you’re as snarky as- as-“ “You?” all three women said at once. “Yes! … Oh, fuck.” “Dad cursed! Put a Knot in the swear jar.” “We don’t have a swear jar.” “Really? Then, shit!” “Okay, now we’re going to have a swear jar!” “Here’s your phone. Have fun playing around with it!” “Brat.” “Okay, but your lock screen is the best thing ever.” Somehow, Grace and Luna had managed to take a picture— or as Severus learned— “selfie,” with Cas and set it as his lock screen. Actually, there were about a hundred of these “selfies” already on his phone, how, he wasn’t sure. He smiled, “I like the cat the most.” “Stupid cat.” Cas meowed.

Severus didn’t know of any apparition points in Northern Ireland, at least ones that were secretive enough that should he mess up, he would be safe from being noticed. But he did know of a few in England and Scotland. Originally, taking a ferry from Liverpool to Belfast sounded the easiest, and it would have been exciting because both he and Grace loved the Beatles, and they could have possibly made something fun out of the day she was dreading. But, the ferry ride was eight hours, and Grace was not having any of it. It’s not that she got sea-sick or anything, she just didn’t like the idea of being on a really big boat with lots of strangers and their cars for eight hours straight. Plus, that would mean they’d have to get up at the crack of dawn so they could be on the ferry by 5 am and arrive in Belfast a little afternoon. So, she did some research and found a much shorter ferry route from Cairnryan to Larne, which was only two hours. What was great was that they could sleep in a little longer and get on the ferry by 10:30 am and be in Larne by 12:30 pm, and then take an hour bus ride to Ballycastle and be there around the same time they would if they left from Liverpool. Grace didn’t sleep the night before, so she spent the majority of the night staring at her walls, the ceiling, the starry night sky out her windows. Luna and Phoebe slept over, Luna staying in Grace’s room as usual, and Phoebe sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms which was actually supposed to be Luna’s room, but Luna always insisted on sharing a room with Grace, since, “That’s what teenage girls always do in the movies,” not that Grace really minded; sometimes it got rather lonely in her room, no matter how many photographs she hung up. Plus, Luna was a sleep-cuddler. Don’t judge. It’s human nature to want to cuddle. Anyway, Grace only got about two hours of sleep. So when it was finally time to get out of bed, Luna had to practically drag her out. Grace sat on her bed staring at her closet, shoulders hunched and arms crossed over her stomach, “I don’t know what to wear.” Luna, stepping out of the bathroom, took her wet hair out of its towel turban and stared at her almost full walk-in closet with shopping bags full of clothes Grace still had yet to put away or hang up, “Seriously?” Grace nodded. “I hate you.” It was chilly that day, well, chilly for the summer. It was really about 19ºC, but still. And it was bleak; it must’ve rained overnight and the sky was full of gray clouds and no sun. “Why can’t I just wear sweats and a baggy t-shirt?” Grace groaned as she watched Luna, her fashion consultant, rummage through her wardrobe. “Because if you dress like shit, that’s how you’ll feel. I know you don’t want to, but throw on some bright clothes, brush your hair, and put on a little makeup, and it might just help. Here, this shirt,” it was a pink and white striped tank top, “this skirt,” it was an A-line baby blue skirt that had a matching belt that tied together in the front in a bow, “your boots,” brown knee-high riding boots, “and your trench coat.” Grace got dressed, put on some makeup, and while she may have looked cute, she still felt anxious. She checked her phone, two messages from Draco:

Draco: I know today is going to be hard, but you’re strong. If you need anything, if you just wanna talk, I’ll be here. Just call. <3 Draco: Also, fuck her, fuck her for fucking with you like this. Punch her in the throat, baby!

Grace smiled, Dray really was great. It was nice to feel cared for by someone that wasn’t unconditional, like Severus, or friendly, like Luna. Rather, mutual voluntary passion for someone that translated into the L-word that neither of them dared to speak yet.

Grace: Thanks, babe. <3 Though, I want to do a lot more than just throat punch her. Hope you have bail money! Draco: Just don’t leave any fingerprints! Can’t get arrested if no one knows. Grace: We are terrible people. Draco: That’s why we’re perfect for each other.

It was all sappy, but she didn’t care. She was allowed the sappiness, she was allowed the gross romantic cliches. Dammit, she should be allowed to have a normal teenage life.

Apparition sucked (no pun intended) when you were tired. It took everything out of you for a second and made functioning normally for a few moments afterward very hard. Grace just couldn’t wait until she could learn how to apparate on her own, maybe it’d be easier. The good thing was that the ferry wasn’t too crowded. Besides, who would be taking a ferry from Cairnryan to Larne anyway? Most people just sucked it up and took the eight-hour ride to Belfast or flew. Grace mostly slept the way there, head resting on Severus’ arm. Severus had no idea how Grace was going to react when she saw her mother. Would she panic and refuse to do so? Or would she finally snap and try to kill her? He really should’ve checked to make sure she wasn’t armed before they left. Did she bring her wand? He hoped she just wouldn’t do anything stupid. Honestly, how would Severus act though? Severus had a certain degree of hatred for Grace’s birth parents, though his hatred for her mother wasn’t as strong as it was for her father. He was lucky he was locked up in prison because Severus would surely do something so drastic that he would find himself locked up in Azkaban. But her mother? He almost pitied her. She was in a rehabilitation center, she’d lost everything she’s ever had; she had ruined her own life. After two hours, they finally arrived in Northern Ireland. Stepping off, Grace stopped in her tracks and just took a moment to look around. It was like a wave of nostalgia and familiarity washed over her, and she smiled. Of course, this wasn’t her home of Ballycastle. But it was close. Fortunately, Severus and Grace had the bus to themselves, save for two other people who would eventually get off at different stops along the way. They were on the A2 Causeway Coastal route, going past steep cliffs that overlooked the ocean, uphill, downhill, so close to the edge sometimes Severus thought that the bus would tip over on a sharp turn, but Grace didn’t mind. She just gazed out the window and tapped her fingers to whatever music was playing on the radio. “What’s your favorite Beatles song?” Grace asked. “‘Hey Jude.’” “Really?” He nodded, “My mother used to sing it to me when I was little.” “What was she like?” “She was kind and very smart. She always tried her best to be the peacemaker and be there for me. Unfortunately, she made one mistake when she was young and that led to her demise. And I couldn’t save her,” he looked at his daughter and smiled. “She would’ve loved you though. I think she always wanted a daughter, so she would’ve spoiled you.” “If she was anything like you, I would’ve loved her too.” They passed the time along just like that: asking questions that would lead to stories that would lead to more questions. “Ballycastle,” the bus driver finally called out. It was as if Grace was excited to finally see her hometown after eight years, but was paralyzed by fear in her seat. “Grace? Are you alright?” Severus asked. “Hm? Uh, yeah, yeah I think. Just got… lost in thought or something,” she quickly made her way off the bus; just had to get it over with it like a band-aid. She looked around at the bright coastal town before her. Not much had changed in the eight years since she’s been gone. It still looked the same, maybe a few new coats of paint, and it still smelled like the sea. The bus pulled away and there was no turning back now. “So this is Ballycastle,” Severus said taking it all in. “Aye, this is Ballycastle. C’mon I’ll give you a tour,” she took Severus’ hand and started walking. They weren’t in any hurry, and they could use some walking around after being cooped up for over three hours. Severus was sure they were getting lost, having walked around aimlessly, but Grace knew exactly where they were going. She had the whole town mapped out in her head. “So this was my Primary school, Ballycastle Integrated Primary School, and Nursery Unit. We wore awful uniforms, baby blue collared shirts with burgundy jumpers and the girls had to wear gray skirts and knee socks in the warmer months, but when it got cold we were ‘allowed’ to wear slacks.” “But you wear a uniform now, so what’s the difference?” Grace smirked, “I almost never wear my uniform under my robes. Especially in the winter, I’m usually in joggers and my Uggs.” “Grace!” “Oi, get over it, no one wears the damn uniform unless it’s something special. Okay! Next stop!” They continued walking, Grace occasionally pointing to random buildings: “That’s where I fell off my bike.” “That’s where I twisted my ankle.” “That’s the pub he would always get drunk at after work,” referring to Mr. McClivert. “That’s where Artie McCleod tried to kiss me in P7 so I punched him in the face and broke his nose.” “And here’s the Diamond, known as the Heart of Ballycastle. I personally don’t think it’s shaped like a diamond, it looks more like a triangle, but apparently, it’s a diamond.” They stood in the center of the Diamond, next to a monument that's plaque read was in memory of Dr. George Matthew O’Connor. They watched the locals pass by, going into pubs and shops. A few of them waved, and they waved back; Grace was thankful no one recognized her. There was a group of men outside a pub playing music. No singing, just some guitars, a fiddle, a banjo, and a small drum set. Grace watched them with a smile on her face, recognizing the songs they were playing from growing up here in Northern Ireland. She tapped her foot to the music, and she caught the eye of the man playing the fiddle. “Oi, wee lass!” he called to her. Grace looked around for someone else he could have been talking to. He pointed his bow at her, “Yes you!” he laughed. “With the pretty red hair!” She blushed, “Yes sir?” “Do ye dance?” “Aye!” “Well c’mere!” She ran across the road to the band, Severus following her. He was ready to reach for his wand, but it was all under false caution. “What’s your name, miss?” “Grace,” she shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet ye, Grace. You Riverdance?” “When I was little, but I probably still can.” “To any music?” a man with a guitar asked. “Probably.” “How’s bout a challenge?” “Aye,” she took off her coat and handed it to Severus. “Grace-“ he started. “It’s fine, dad. I won’t get hurt. Promise!” she flexed her ankles; this was going to be really hard in boots. Severus sighed, leaning against the wall of the pub, watching carefully. Leave it to Grace to live completely on the edge of life when Severus just wanted to keep her in a bubble. Grace stood in front of the band, trying to avoid the looks of passerby's, just keeping her gaze on the O’Connor monument. The man with the fiddle started, and Grace laughed, noticing the song as Dropkick Murphy’s ‘I’m Shipping Up To Boston.” She danced along to the music, realizing it was very, very hard to Riverdance in boots. And the tempo was fast, so it was even harder to tap and scuff along. But she was doing it, smiling and laughing along, adding a graceful flare to the otherwise hoarse song. People from the street and out of shops and the pub started to gather around the band to watch the scene. They clapped along to the music and cheered the redhead before them on. There was a little girl in the growing crowd that tugged on her mother’s pant leg, “Look, mummy. Look at her dance. I wanna dance just like her, mummy!” She heard a couple of high school boys whistle, “How come the hot girls never are the ones that are in our class?” “I know, right?” the other boy said. The music ended and Grace took a deep breath and bowed and the small crowd cheered. A few people came up to her, as she responded in her natural nervous giggles, and complimented her. The boys tried asking for her number, but she politely declined and told them she had a boyfriend, but that she was very flattered. “Ah, well, he’s a lucky lad then,” one of the boys said. “Anyways, you made our day far more interesting than it was. Have a nice day, miss,” said the other, and they both waved and went on their way. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how to respond to someone rejecting to give you their number! With Grace’s little show brought more attention to the small band. They thanked Grace profusely as they were at the same time bombarded with a few requests. “Do you live here in Ballycastle, miss?” asked the man with the fiddle. Severus walked over and handed Grace her coat. She put it back on, the sea breeze picking up, “I used to. A long time ago.” The two started walking towards Anne Street, when he asked, “What’s your last name?” “Snape!” she called over her shoulder and turned the corner onto Anne. She looked up at her dad, who looked both proud and amused. “What’s that look for?”  “I’m just really proud of you of you, you know that right, Grace?” She nodded as they stopped in front of Solas Moyle. “You don’t have to do this. We can turn around and go home right now. It’s your choice,” he put a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head, “No. It needs to be done. I need to tell her face-to-face that she doesn’t have any control over me or any emotions. Just, please stay close, okay?” “Don’t worry, Gracie. I’m not going anywhere. Now, hand it over,” he held his hand out. “Ugh. You’re no fun,” she pulled her wand out of her boot and handed it to him. “And I’m not having my daughter being expelled for using magic underage out of Hogwarts,” he put her wand in the inside pocket of his coat.

Solas Moyle was painted with bright colors and filled with a “cheery” staff, but its patients’ eyes were filled with misery. Grace had been in their shoes before; being in an institution where you basically had no freedom. Every part of your day was monitored and planned. You couldn’t wear certain things, have certain things in your room, or even go to the bathroom without someone standing outside the door. Each day you had to sit in a circle and talk about your feelings and how you’re doing, and then have a one-on-one and talk about the same thing, and then do group activities that you could care less about doing. “May I help you, miss?” the woman behind the desk asked after they had been buzzed in. “Uh, yeah. We uh… We… Adina McClivert?” Grace stumbled out; her chest felt tight. “Oh, she’s been waiting. You must be her daughter,” the woman handed Grace and Severus visitor’s passes. “No,” Grace said as if she had just been asked to drink poison. She put on the stupid pass and opened the stupid door into the stupid rec room. Did she mention that she thought all of this was fucking stupid? “Relax,” Severus said noting Grace’s clenched fists. He was glad he took her wand. “Whatever,” she shoved her hands into her pockets. She made her way over to the woman with dark red hair, just like herself. Adina McClivert was a short, thin woman with curly, long, deep red hair. Her skin was a ghastly white, even whiter than Grace’s, and she had no freckles, unlike Grace as well. Other than that, and Adina’s brown eyes, they looked strikingly similar. That, and the obvious wear and tear years of drug abuse had on Adina’s body. “Well I’ll be damned,” Adina said standing from her spot on the old, frumpy rec room couch. “I didn’t think you’d show.” “Just as surprised,” Grace responded, flinching away from Adina’s arms as she tried to hug her former daughter. “And who’s this?” she asked looking at Severus. Before he could speak up, Grace cut in, “This is Severus Snape. He’s one of my professors at school and he’s great and he adopted me. So he’s my true family now.” Her scowl towards Adina transitioned to admiration when she shot a glance towards her dad. “Pleasure to meet you, Severus.” “Likewise,” his voice was laced with venom as she shook her hand as he had nothing but resentment for the woman. Grace smirked at Adina’s slight reaction to Severus’ overwhelming aura of absolute hatred. “Well, please, sit,” Adina gestured at another couch, exactly like the one adjacent. The two of them sat, Grace, letting out a huff as she took her hands out of her pockets and crossed her arms. She looked at the woman sitting across from her; she looked sickly, her body was covered in track marks that had barely faded against her pale skin, and those teeth were probably fake as well. It was nice to see Karma had done her part on Grace’s mother, no matter in what form it was. Grace hoped her father was doing just as bad rotting in prison. “So, tell me about this special Wizarding school you go to, Grace. I always knew you were special. Always making strange things happen when you were little.” Grace narrowed her eyes, “Are you stalking me now?” She shook her head, “No. Well, maybe a wee bit. I called up your last foster family, The Nobles. They filled me in and told me where I could find you.” “Remind me to hex them,” Grace mumbled loud enough for Severus to hear. “Is it really wise to be speaking openly about magic in public?” he asked. “With what everyone here talks about on a daily basis and the shite they see?” Severus shrugged, Fair enough. Adina turned back to Grace, “And of course I’ve been keeping up on all of your achievements here in our world. Figure skating competitions, dance recitals, violin and piano recitals; that’s all stuff anyone can look up on Google, dear.” Grace rolled her eyes, “Well I had to give all of that stuff up on behalf of attending Hogwarts because I simply don’t have the time, but I still enjoy it. But I’ve found other stuff to do at my new school.” “Such as?” “I play Quidditch. It’s… It’s quite hard to explain, but my position is pretty important.” “And are you doing well in your classes?” “A bit too well. I think I annoy the teachers sometimes,” she smirked at Severus. “Nobody likes a know-it-all, Grace Audrey.” “Audrey? Whatever happened to Grace Adina?” the older woman raised a brow. “I changed that shit as soon as I entered the foster system. Like I’d want to have anything that reminded me of you,” Grace glared at the woman in front of her. Severus bit his tongue to correct Grace on her language and attitude but then he realized, This woman deserves everything that’s gonna be handed to her. “Now, now, Gracie. Watch your tongue.” “Who are you to tell me what to do? Who are you to think you have any control over me? You were the one who was too high to protect me from him when I was seven-years-old! If you had any love for me, you wouldn’t have shot up! You were supposed to be there to stop him, to do something! And you could’ve cared less about me! You cared more about your fucking drugs!” Severus looked around the rec room and noticed that not just one light was flickering, but they all were starting to erratically flicker. They flickered faster as Grace’s voice got louder. Uh-oh. Adina narrowed her eyes, “That’s no way to talk to your moth-“ “You are not my mother!” Grace stood up, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white, and in an instant, the lights in the room got extremely bright and with a pop, the room went dark. Grace flinched and covered her ears at the loud pop, unaware she was the one who caused it. Before the patients could start a commotion, one of the staff flipped the breaker, turning the lights back on. “Okay, I think we’re done here,” Severus stood, taking Grace by the arm and pulling her away from a terrified Adina. Before they left, Grace called over her shoulder her final words to her former mother, “And leave me the hell alone, or I swear to god I’ll-“ she didn’t get finish before Severus pulled her out the door.

Once outside, Grace’s emotions finally washed over her; her eyes were full of tears and she was bloody pissed. She went over to a narrow alley across the street and punched a wall. “Fuck!” she yelled clutching her hand. Severus ran over to her, “Now why would you think that’d be a good idea?” “I don’t know! I just needed to punch something and- ugh! That bloody hurt!” “Well, yeah, you punched a brick wall, She-Hulk!” Grace took a few deep breaths and wiped her tears, “I’m sorry.” “For? The wall doesn’t have feelings, Gracie,” he was trying his best to get her to laugh. “No, for- for in there.” “Grace, don’t you dare apologize.” “But-“ “Grace,” he pulled her into a hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Although, you’ll have to learn how to control your emotions better. Surprised you didn’t blow up the whole building.” “Huh?” she looked up at her dad, confused. “You blew the circuit in there.” “Wait, that was me?” “Yes, you honestly didn't know that?” “No! That’s so cool! I’m like, a superhero or something. Miss… Electric! No… Electric Shock? Nah, I think that one is taken.” Severus rolled his eyes, at least she was smiling again. “Ooh! Before we leave, I wanna show you something!” she grabbed Severus’ hand and started leading the way.

When Severus thought “something,” he thought maybe a park or a monument. Not a bloody path that led to a treacherous rope bridge to a tiny island! First of all, he was pretty sure they were trespassing. “It's closed. Weather isn’t good enough today. I used to come here all the time when I was little,” she said as she jumped the fence. “Grace, no.” “Grace, yes. Now c’mon! Hop it!” “If we get arrested, I’m not paying for your bail,” he said as he reluctantly hopped the fence. And then the rope bridge. He was going to kill Grace. She went first, and about halfway over, because she thinks she’s bloody funny, started shifting her weight, making the bridge sway. “Grace Audrey McClivert-Snape!” And she just kept laughing her ass off. Yup, he was going to kill her. Finally, they got across, “Welcome to Carrick-A-Rede Island!” Severus looked around, there was only a single building on the small island and it was surrounded by the sea and Ireland’s Cliffs. “It is pretty amazing.” “Right?” she walked over to the edge, breathing in the sea breeze. She sat down, legs hanging off of the edge. She looked over her shoulder to her dad and patted the grass next to her, “I promise the edge isn’t gonna break off.” “I swear, Grace…” but he sat next to her anyway. “Thank you for coming today.” “You don’t have to face everything on your own, Grace,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to, at least.” “Thank you. It really does mean a lot… Hey, speaking of not being alone, when are you going to tell Phoebe how you feel?” “What?” Severus asked, trying to sound oblivious. “Dad, it’s obvious you like Phoebe. Perhaps even love her. You need to tell her before she goes back to New York. The Universe is giving you a second chance and if you don’t take it now, then she’s never going to come back!” He knew she was right, he just didn’t want to admit it, and he didn’t want to admit that he was indeed in love with Phoebe. “Shut up, Grace.” But she just smirked, knowing she was right all along.

Severus was able to find an apparition point to return home to Snape Manor. Grace was emotionally exhausted, and all she could do was say goodnight to everyone before heading upstairs to her room. But something was blocking her door. When she finally got the door open enough to squeeze through, she gasped; her room was full of dozens of sunflowers. On her bed was a note, next to Cas who was rather enjoying himself playing with the flowers. The note read: “Sorry today was awful, but I thought you could use something to brighten your gray day. I’ll pick you up tomorrow around seven. Love, Draco.” She smiled wide, holding the note to her chest, her heart swelled. She loved that boy.

#harry potter #harry potter au #modern au #The Potion Masters Grace #severus snape #original character #Grace McClivert #luna lovegood #draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy x original character

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angieroleplays · 7 years

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Carry, Cezra, Masha, Fralsea, Loli, all the straights ~

Carry

who cooks normally?: Harry does, because let’s be real Cassie won’t cook for him. However, when he’s high af and makes random munchie meals she probably doesn’t enjoy it.

how often do they fight?: A lot, like a lot. But like, it’s normally because Cassie is moody and she’s yelling at Harry. Harry doesn’t yell back or fight back or anything. He just kinda let’s Cassie be moody at him until she’s done then he hugs her and everything goes back to normal.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: That doesn’t happen, they are always together.

nicknames for each other?: Cas, mophead, Harry Pothead

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: Harry, Cas wouldn’t pay plus the Lynns are rich so.

who steals the covers at night?: Cassie, because she’s a cold hearted bitch. But Harry is okay with it because he loves her so much.

what would they get each other for gifts?: Harry probably did something cheesy like writer her a song. Cassie probably really wanted this [insert gift idea here] and bought it for him because she never wants him to actually know how much she cares about him. Even though in reality she thought about getting him tickets to see his favorite band, but that would be too obvious, she shouldn’t know that his favorite band is.

who remembers things?: Harry, Cassie does too but she pretends she doesn’t.

who cusses more?: Harry

what would they do if the other one was hurt?: Harry would fawn of Cassie, and be worried, and, like, wait on her hand and foot. Cassie would be worried, but act otherwise, and call Harry an idiot for getting hurt.

who kissed who first?: Cassie kissed Harry

who made the first move?: Cassie

who started the relationship?: Cassie

Cezra

who cooks normally?: Ezra, Cassie doesn’t cook for anyone.

how often do they fight?: Literally every week, they’re a mess.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: Live life like normal people but miss each other terribly.

nicknames for each other?: Babe, Ezra probably goes for the assortment of baby, angel, love, beautiful, pumpkin. Because dork

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: Eza, he’s also rich.

who steals the covers at night?: Cassie, but Ezra yanks them back from her.

what would they get each other for gifts?: Ezra would get her something sweet, but expensive, like a tennis bracelet or diamond earrings, Cassie would get Ezra something cute in return, like a picture of herself in a frame.

who remembers things?: They both do, Ezra knows if he doesn’t then Cassie will end him.

who cusses more?: Ezra

what would they do if the other one was hurt?: Ezra would double and triple check her every 5 minutes, and do anything she asks him to, and worry beyond belief. Cassie would worry a lot too, and make it known that she’s worried, and scold him for doing something that got him hurt, and hang out with him until he’s better. But yell at him the whole time because he was dumb and got hurt.

who kissed who first?: Ezra probably kissed Cassie first, but as per Cassie’s request. They were probably really little. And playing something like house or something. And Cassie probably insisted that the daddy has to kiss the mommy (ya know, probably some kinda coping thing cause her parents were messy so whenever her and Ezra played house they were a happy family). And Ezra did it because she’s his best friend and he loves her. And then they were history from then on because they fell in love.

who made the first move?: Cassie.

who started the relationship?: Cassie, because “Ezra! You can’t kiss me and think you can be other girls’ boyfriends now. You’re mine. Never play on the jungle gym with her again” or something like that.

Masha

who cooks normally?: Sasha, fuck you think Mat’s gonna cook for her, get outta here? ... okay that’s a lie, because as soon as they’re married and living together she probably won’t have to lift a finger when he’s around.

how often do they fight?: Rarely, Mateo doesn’t like fighting. He probably watched Huriah do it a lot and hates it. That’s why he never really liked his relationship with Cat. If they do fight, Sasha has to start it.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: Mateo snapchats her all day, and sends her weird thoughts he’s had like “do you think under water tap shoes exist?” or shit like that, Sasha probably puts up with them (and likes them because she loves him).

nicknames for each other?: Mat, Sash, he probably calls her beautiful, and gorgeous, because he wants her to know that he thinks she’s such.

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: Mat, he’s rich plus like... has to uphold his misogynistic act.

who steals the covers at night?: Sasha

what would they get each other for gifts?: Mat get’s her tickets to see Beyonce, or Katie Perry. Sasha gets him tickets to see a local production of [insert musical title here]. Until one year Sasha’s gift is a tiny box and it’s an engagement ring because I feel like Mat would propose on Christmas and be that asshole.

who remembers things?: They both do, Sasha is neurotic and Mat just loves love.

who cusses more?: Mateo

what would they do if the other one was hurt?: Mat basically worries non stop and waits on her hand and foot. Sasha is probably the same way.

who kissed who first?: Mat kissed Sasha

who made the first move?: Sasha

who started the relationship?: Sasha

Fralsea ( this one made me smile ; I miss them)

who cooks normally?: Chelsea, she has this thing where she doesn’t go out much so she spends a lot of time at home.

how often do they fight?: Never, fights would probably startle Chelsea too much. I hope Frankie knows well enough not to start them.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: Live? They’re not the clingy kind of couple. I feel Like Frankie will probably send her shady texts about people through out the day though.

nicknames for each other?: Chels, She probably calls him something silly like Knight Frankie or Knight Fabray of Lima because he was there when she was found so he kinda helped save her in a way? Just like a knight in shining armor. Plus he makes her feel better when he’s around. She probably also calls him Merlin because he’s a wizard with computers.

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: Chelsea would insist, but so would Frankie, so they’re probably that couple that splits the check.

who steals the covers at night?: Frankie. But Chelsea just follows them, and crawls closer to him to cuddle and stay warms.

what would they get each other for gifts?: Chelsea’ll collect him small trinkets, thinks that make her think of him, or she thinks he’d like. Frankie writes her a new story every time he needs to give her a gift. She loves them more than anything. And probably reads them to Sasha as bedtime stories, even after the two of them split up.

who remembers things?: They both do, but Chelsea more so.

who cusses more?: Frankie

what would they do if the other one was hurt?: They’re both two giant stress balls, so they worry a lot and they laugh about it later.

who kissed who first?: Chelsea kissed Frankie, he doesn’t seem like one to make the first move.

who made the first move?: Chelsea.

who started the relationship?: Chelsea

Loli

who cooks normally?: I like to think they’re that annoying couple that cooks together.

how often do they fight?: A moderate amount. They always end in tears probably, and someone storming off, because holy shit both of them are so mellow dramatic.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: Lily texts Logan constantly, especially while he’s at college and she’s at home with Harry. Logan misses them, but he’s usually busy so he’ll answer when he can then face time her at night or something.

nicknames for each other?: Lily started the trend of calling Logan bossman, she probably still does even though they’ve been long married. I don’t remember if Logan had any nicknames for her?

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: Logan, Lily doesn’t argue it.

who steals the covers at night?: Lily

what would they get each other for gifts?: Weed and weed accessories.

who remembers things?: They both remember most things? They’re probably that couple where one of them remembers one half of the dates and the other remembers the other half because I don’t think both of them can remember everything. Not when they’re been killing brain cells since the age of 14.

who cusses more?: Logan

what would they do if the other one was hurt?: Logan has anxiety, so he probably stresses and jumps to conclusions (like that time he thought Lily was dying but she was just pregnant). He also tries his best to help, you know? Lily keeps a calmer demeanor on the outside because she doesn’t wanna create more problems, but on the inside she’s more worried than a people caught in the eye of a tornado. She helps as best as she can as well.

who kissed who first?: Lily probably kissed Logan first. They were both probably very high.

who made the first move?: Logan, but see Lily’s dumb and panicked and was like... hahahahaha no. And then there was this wild baby plot line, and now they’re married. Wow, will ya look at that.

who started the relationship?: Logan. Him confessing his feels, though it did nothing at the time, was effective in planting a seed in my ho’s head. So she realized she liked him. And like, it took a while (and a baby, and a few years apart while Logan was in college) before it all fell into place. But yea, it eventually worked out.

#memes #joanne #Anonymous

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