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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years

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Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Six)

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

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hes-writer · 4 years

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Trial (4)

Summary: harry and y/n face the truth

Warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 4249 words

A/N: thank you so much for supporting this series !! @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. I will do the taglist later in the day :)

EDIT: idk why the ‘read more’ is not working. I apologize for the scrolling!!

Part 4 of the Tarnish series!

___

Harry was crying.

Admitting his feelings when he was younger was quite a task for him. Now that he was nearly in his thirties, the journey of being vulnerable with himself and with his feelings became easier with each emotion that he permitted himself to submerge in. Harry validated those emotions--he was allowed to experience them because it makes him human. It added texture to the ever-growing mosaic that painted who he was as an individual. Adding to the people that surrounded him, influenced by their kind-nature and the goodness of their heart to become who he was now.

And now, it seemed like his emotions increased tenfold. The clench of his abdomen and the harsh jolt of his chest forced his slouched shoulder to stay deflated. His breathing hitched as sobs threatened to take over, throat sore with the effort to keep it all in because Harry was smart enough to know that these emotions coursing through him right now were ones he wasn’t validated to feel. Paired with the latest information that that little girl being held by another man was his own daughter--and that the woman who was glowing with her caring, motherly-instincts was supposed to be his family; it broke him completely.

Quaking thoughts circled his brain and punctured his muscles as if they were attacking him not only mentally, but physically as well in exchange for his past mistakes that he couldn’t quite place if he deeply regretted or not. Was it a mistake to cheat on Y/N? To leave her alone in the exposure of the public eye while she was carrying his child in her tummy?

Harry should have known the day she fell sick and vomited in their kitchen sink. He was, sadly, too busy throwing a subdued celebration of finally having time alone with Camille. He should have noticed the way her face brightened with radiance. Or the way her cravings for strawberries and pickles either grossed her out or completely compelled her to consume more than she usually would.

But Harry guessed that that was around the time his efforts went out the window because he didn’t have to pretend to care as much anymore. Camille appeared to be his one and only. With their relationship coming so close to being revealed and Y/N having one foot out the door, Harry let fate play out the rest. Don’t get him wrong, Harry still loved Camille; that was why his slashed heart still throbbed at the sight of her watching over her little cousin, yet knowing that the topic of children was still not a card on the table.

The distress that he was feeling right now was core-shredding, heartbreaking grief that left a hole in his heart. The worst part was that Harry didn’t exactly know how to fix it or whether he even could. As he walked to his car with hands jammed into his pockets, he was grateful that the hood of his sweater hid his face and the tears sliding down the slope of his cheeks.

His senses were in overdrive, figuring out how to fix the mess he created. Wanting to run up to Y/N and ask her why she didn’t tell him, needing to feel his little girl in his arms. Pinching his skin to transfer the pain he felt in his heart because of the thought that he missed his baby’s first words, her first steps. Was it ‘dada’ that babbled out of her mouth? Did she reach out for Connor when she stumbled over nothing when she walked on stubby legs? Did Y/N mention his name to her?

“Harry!”

He kept on walking despite the hushed call of his name, assuming that it was a fan that caught sight of him and wanted a picture. Harry adores them, but now is hardly the time to fake a smile or act like his life didn’t just flash right before his eyes--quite literally.

The vehicle beeped as Harry pressed the ‘unlock’ button on his key fob, just about ready to pull the door open and shield himself from prying eyes. He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder, “Harry,”

He looked up to find Gemma panting, resting her hand on the roof of the car, “Are you. . .alright?” Her drifting eyes inspected his face, tinted a slight pink and moist with the salty liquid dripping from his tear ducts.

Huffing in annoyance, Harry clutched the handle to let himself in. Gemma followed his actions, shutting the door and locking it. The tinted windows of the car provided a semi-private enclosure that was filled with Harry’s sniffling and Gemma’s heavy breathing, trying to catch her breath.

“H-her name is Halo,” Gemma began, gulping when Harry paused his ministrations, straining his ears to listen despite the dull thud occupying his vessels. “She’s almost two years old,”

“You said you didn’t know,” Harry’s gruff tone echoed. Gemma anxiously rubbed the ends of her palms against her jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew all this time and y’didn’t tell me,”

“I-I was--she didn’t want me--”

“Why would she tell you and not me? I’m the one that dated her,” He raised his voice with every syllable he spoke. The frustration he felt from seeing the woman he once loved living the reality they shared together, except he wasn’t anywhere in the picture and that reality was only a fantasy in his life now. “It doesn’t make sense,” He rested his forearms on the wheel, facing the car’s symbol.

“The baby is yours, Harry,”

His head quipped with speed, grazing his forehead on the rounded leather but that pain didn’t amount to the new wave washing over him. “W-what?”

“It’s really not my place to tell,” Gemma said nervously, making eye contact with Harry’s searing yet teary gaze. “She wanted to tell you but you were so happy with Camille. She was posting these things on her Instagram about your trips and Y/N called me crying because you looked so free and happy without her. Y/N didn’t want to ruin what you guys had by dropping this on you,”

"That's-that's my baby?" Harry stuttered over his words while tugging his head out of his memories. Gemma nodded in confirmation. “Then why in the world was she--Halo?--calling him ‘dada’?

“Look, Harry, you’re not stupid. You know why Halo called Connor her dad,” Gemma spoke slowly, “This is a conversation that you need to have with Y/N if she lets you,”

At the mention of the man’s name, Harry couldn’t help but be filled with anger. He barely knew this man yet he received everything that Harry wanted in life. ‘But she’s my kid. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s supposed to give her kisses and make her laugh,” He mumbled quietly as if his inner thoughts were far too strong to be kept in his mind

He was staring mindlessly at the numbers on his dashboard, hands gripping the leather steering wheel to try and ground himself. "But if that's my baby, how can she call someone who's not her father, dad?" He whipped his head towards Gemma, searching for validation that would make him feel better but the siblings were aware that he lost that title three years ago.

“I think you know you lost that place in their lives,” She reached a comforting hand to pat his arm, feeling just how tense he was under the fabric.

Harry shrugged her off, pinching his brows and pursing his lips as sadness began to swirl down the drain only to be replaced with resentment, irritation and bitterness. The taste on his tongue was hot with anger and his ears felt warm as he wheezed air instead of opting to yell his dissatisfaction near his sister.

“This isn't fair. She's m’baby too. Connor is not her father,” He spat with venom, “I am,” A pointed finger poked his chest. "She knew she was pregnant when she left me. She’s so fuckin’ selfish. How could she do this to me?

Gemma was quick to remind him of his actions, "You cheated on her, Harry.” Gemma cowered back at Harry’s beady eyes glaring at her with an unreadable emotion, stone-cold. “Maybe you should go home. Calm down a little bit,”

“No!” Harry cut Gemma off, “Need t’a hear her say it myself,”

Harry didn’t know what his plan was when he harshly slammed the car door behind him, practically storming on the patches of grass like a mad man. It wasn’t hard to spot the picture-perfect family sitting on a park bench which brought a scowl to his shielded face. He wanted to give Y/N a piece of his mind and it wasn’t necessarily the nicest thoughts that crossed his brain.

Halo was sitting on Connor’s lap while he was feeding her a peeled cupcake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting—-Harry felt like he was punched in the gut. The baked good was Y/N’s specialty and it had a lot of sentimental value to both of them. It was what she baked for their first year together. He could vividly see her frosting-dotted nose, aiming to splotch the cream on his cheek while she laughed. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging Y/N from behind and proceeding to kiss her sweet cheek, leaving the perfect opportunity to stain his skin with the frosting.

But he didn’t care if he was smashed headfirst into the cake (as long as it wasn’t ice cream cake)—Harry just wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh heartily.

Y/N was snuggled on Connor’s shoulder, fixing Halo’s hair as she made grabby hands at the confection. He cannot lie--Connor was a handsome man. Harry rarely felt intimidated or insecure, but seeing that this man managed to snatch everything Harry could ever want seemingly in a blink of an eye; Harry felt very jealous.

He pouted, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering wishing that Cory or Connor--whatever that little shit’s name was would disappear so that Harry could take his place instead. Actually, it was his spot in the first place. Only if he didn’t mess up, he thought. He missed Y/N so much! Seeing Y/N in her element of niceness and bright-gleaming smiles sent a truck full of sand down his throat as he gulped his emotion below the surface. The closer he got to them, his vision tunnelled towards Halo; brown, flouncy curls and a cute dimple embedded in her cheek as she giggled, accidentally knocking the cupcake on the ground.

If that wasn’t symbolism staring at Harry straight in the face; a sign that their so-called relationship really had no chance of reprieve. Harry chose to ignore it.

Connor clutched Halo tightly against him, crouching down with a napkin to clean up the scattered cake on the ground. Y/N was the first to notice him, her forehead creasing as her eyes bulged at the sight of Harry walking towards them. She subtly poked at Connor’s arm, hurting Harry even more because it meant that Y/N felt uncomfortable with his presence.

He was close enough to read her pink lips, “We should go,” matched with Y/N’s frantic actions of packing the juice boxes and the Tupperware of cupcakes into the tote bag beside her. Connor searched the park until his gaze landed on Harry, protectively shielding Halo from him.

Is he serious? Harry thought. That’s my own daughter.

Speaking of Halo, the two-year-old happily continued munching on her new cupcake, frowning slightly when Connor stood up, “Why we leaving, Daddy? Did I do somethin’ bad?”

Y/N sighed, they promised that Halo could play at the park all day and now it was cut short because of a certain someone.

“No, you didn’t, bub. Let Daddy explain at home, okay baby?” Connor hitched Halo higher on his hip, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any more questions until the trio left.

“Who’s that?” Halo asked, pointing at Harry only metres away from them. Her stubby finger outstretched at the stranger in front of her, eyes bright and sparkling with curiosity. There was no sign of recognition painting her green orbs.

Harry gulped, wanting so badly to scream “I’m your dad!” but he knew that Y/N will add that to the list of his mistakes he had made.

“No one, angel,” Connor planted a kiss on her head, looking over at Y/N who had finished packing everything up. He tilted his chin in an attempt to scare Harry off.

But the thing was, Harry was already scared. He could feel his stomach in his throat but vomiting wasn’t the right word to describe it. His heart drooped deeper than the levels of the Earth. He was scared because his family was right in front of him but he couldn’t touch them or hug them in his arms. He was only allowed to look from the outside because there was a small possibility of being forgiven.

“Y/N. . .” Harry began hesitantly. The surge of confidence he had decreased with each passing second. He kept a close eye.

Y/N shrugged the strap on her shoulder, “Leave us alone, Harry.”

He felt his anger disappearing, a new emotion cascading his tear ducts and the blood in his veins. Harry looked back in retrospect; she really did mean it when Y/N said that she never wanted him around again. “I just want to talk. Please, let’s talk,”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Harry,” Connor interrupted, grabbing the bag from Y/N and wrapping an arm over her shoulder, guiding them away from Harry. “She’s happy without you, mate. can’t you see?”

Harry kept his gaze trained on Y/N’s face, actively avoiding eye contact but drifted when Halo’s frown caught his stare. The little girl’s chin was hooked over Connor’s shoulder, squirming in his arms in an attempt to stop him from walking. Halo was smart enough to know that Harry’s expression screamed sadness and her mummy said that “you need to find a way to make them happy” if someone was sad.

“Wait!” Her shrill yell caused both Connor and Y/N to turn around. A piece of Harry’s heart shattered on the floor when Halo pulled Connor down by the nape of his neck, small hand leading his ear next to her lips. Then, she did the same to Y/N, pointing at Harry which caused him to straighten his stance, wanting to impress his daughter even though there was no point.

The couple shared a look before ultimately having Connor walk closer to Harry. Halo gripped her cupcake towards him, “‘ere y’go hawwy,’ She still couldn’t pronounce her ‘r’s’ yet.

Harry began to sob.

It was his daughter and those were the first words she had uttered to him. She didn’t know him yet Halo treated him with kindness and it ripped at his chest because Y/N must’ve taught her that. His palms became wet as tears streamed from his eyes, dampening the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn't care about looking foolish in front of them, not when his daughter saw him as a stranger and called Connor her ‘dada’.

Halo recoiled at the sudden reaction, her lips curving downwards, “Dada, mama, he’s cwyin’,” She tucked her face at the junction of Connor’s shoulder and neck, scared that she made him cry. Halo didn’t mean to make him cry. She felt so guilty that she started spilling tears of her own too, her face contorting into a scrunched expression as her mouth wailed open sobs, matching Harry’s.

Harry’s first instinct was to take a step forward and comfort Halo but he was rendered frozen when Connor shot him a glare, shifting Halo’s body out of reach and he could only see her face over the man’s shoulder. Y/N dimmed her eyes, brows pinching when she couldn’t help but let a smidge of sympathy wash over her. She muttered a few words to Connor, pushing him by the small of his back towards the parking lot.

When they were out of earshot, Y/N faced Harry, “What were you thinking? Are you trying to mess everything up again?” He tried to cut in, “Isn’t it bad enough that we’re talking about this in public? Why must you ruin everything, Harry?” She whisper-shouted, trying her best not to garner them any attention.

“N-no, Gemma told me and I jus’ wanted to see her--and you. Wanted to hear the truth come out of your mouth,” His large hands jammed into his pockets to prevent him from fiddling with them.

“Look, you have no right coming here,”

“I know that b-but I--,”

She held a palm up, “I’m not sadistic like you Harry. If you thought that I wouldn’t let you around her then you’re wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss you and I wish that you were there for us when we needed you,”

“I had no idea--,”

“Will you let me speak?” Her tone carried irritation. “But we’re alright now and we don’t need you anymore.”

Harry never thought that those statements would ever come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Don’t you think I deserve to get to know her?”

She sighed, “Deserve? Definitely not.” He nodded in agreement. “But I’d live in regret if Halo never got to know her real father. . .”

Harry’s expression lit up, hopeful eyes shooting glances at her, “D-does that mea--? Are you--?”

“You can see her. You can get to know her but only because you’re Halo’s father,” Y/N took a brave step forward, ignoring the way her heart throbbed as if she was being stabbed by a thousand knives. Painful memories drifted in and out of her train of thought until she shook her head to muster them out. It was in the past but she could never forget the feeling of hopelessness taking over her whole body.

With a hand on his shoulder, she continued, “Anyone can be a father and you’re just that. Don’t think that you’re entitled to anything more. You will never be her dad. Connor is. Understood?”

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed a heavy gulp, “I. . .understand. Thank you, Y/N. For letting me back in when I don’t deserve it,” He glanced at the two tiny figures piling in the car. He could just imagine himself plucking little Halo into her booster seat, booping her nose as she asked for the hundredth time why she had to sit at the back and not at the front with them.

“I’m not finished,” She deadpanned, “You are going to be there for her. Not for me, not for us because our relationship is over. You can hurt me as you did before and I can accept it but don’t you dare try to hurt her,”

And it was true. Having endured his painful game once before, Y/N was stronger now. She could take heartbreak as agonizing as that but she wouldn’t dare stand seeing Halo’s teary eyes staring back at her, asking why Harry had left them. She was far too young to experience the feeling when a piece of herself is ripped apart.

“I won’t hurt her. I promise,”

“I heard those words come out from your mouth years ago and look where we are now. Once you hurt her, it’s over.”

“Y/N, t-that’s hardly fair. I am her dad, aren’t I?” Harry cleared his throat at Y/N’s raised brow.

“No, you’re not. We just went through this, Harry.”

“Don’t call me that,” He muttered quietly because she only ever called him ‘baby’ or ‘h’.

“Will you stop? I laid out my cards. If you want to even have a speck of presence in her life, then you have to abide by what I said,” She crossed her arms in defence, “You will never be Halo’s dad, Harry. Connor is her dad. I don’t know how many more times I have to repeat this before it gets through you thick head,”

He opened his mouth to talk, “No wiggle room whatsoever?”

“No. Do I have to write a letter for you to understand that?”

In a moment of hurt and despair, Harry spat out, “Might as well, yeah? Waited over two years to tell me anyway,”

“Are you kidding me?”

His throat ran dry, realizing that he just ticked another box to favour against being a part of his daughter’s life, “I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to,”

“Whatever. Are you willing to make the sacrifice?”

“This isn’t the place to talk about this,” Harry suggested, wanting to have some sort of foot on the ground so he doesn’t feel like he’s topping over with guilt and sadness. “Maybe you can come over to my house,”

Y/N shook her head, glancing briefly at her phone when it buzzed, “No. I will not step foot in that house again. If you really want to discuss it, you can come over at our place,”

“Your place?” Did they all live together? Well, that was another slap to the face. Not only was Connor playing dad to Halo, but he was also part of the household. Harry’s face must have contorted into a grimace because Y/N sighed softly.

“Yes, our place. Meaning all three of us,” She gestured behind her. “I have to go. You can probably get my number from Gemma; you can text me then.”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I want to talk to you. . . about this, I mean,” Harry lowered his enthusiasm. The small voice in his head reverberating that this was not about him and Y/N; this was about Halo.

“And make sure you don’t bring anyone else,” Y/N said sarcastically, subtly pointing in the direction of the paparazzi hiding behind some bushes. Harry was usually good at spotting them but today was just a puddle of hurt and confusion. “I don’t want her having to read nasty things like I did,”

What Y/N said may have been a side comment, but Harry couldn’t help but take it to heart. Was this a good idea? Sure, he wanted to be a present dad in Halo’s life. However, is it worth it to stir unwanted drama? If only he didn’t cheat on Y/N, all of this could have been avoided.

With his mind in a haze, Harry barely noticed Y/N’s figure moving away from him. He jogged to catch up with her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Harry felt numb to the way she shrugged her touch off of her immediately, “Were you ever going to tell me about our daughter?’

Y/N stared at him quizzically, tilting her head a little bit sideways, “I thought I did? Wait!” A look of recognition plastered across her features, “I did try to tell you but you blocked me before the message sent through,”

Harry gulped with realization. He blearily remembered bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,”

___

Y/N: Since you’re not picking up my calls

I need to tell you something

Y/N took a deep breath as her thumbs tapped on the letters slowly as if to withhold the news from him. She was not at all ready to reveal that she was pregnant and that he was the father but Y/N knew that it was the right thing to do. Despite the fact that he was currently out of the country on vacation somewhere on an island with sandy beaches with Camille. Y/N was aware that this spike of courage was rare and so, she had to do it now.

Y/N: I’m pregnant

And you’re the father

She locked the device as soon as she pressed the arrow to send the message, clutching the phone close to her chest and shutting her eyes so tightly that it hurt. Minutes passed with no response and Y/N was shouldered by curiosity to check if he had sent anything back or simply left her on ‘seen’.

It was neither. The screaming red exclamation mark surrounded by a circle indicated that she had been blocked.

___

The times when she left missed calls on his phone were for a reason much bigger than the two of them. Y/N didn’t call to beg for him back or to ask Harry to want her again. He was ashamed to admit that he had rolled his eyes upwards every time he clicked on a voicemail she had left, stating, “Hey H, it’s me. Call me back when you hear this. I need to talk to you,” which he deleted without a second thought. She didn’t text him endlessly to politely ask for her things packed and settled for her pick-up because Y/N could not bear to spend another second in a room with him.

It wasn’t that at all.

Y/N was physically moving farther and farther away from him, settling herself into the car before driving off to hers and Connor’s shared house. Halo sat in the backseat, singing along to the radio.

Harry was surrounded amidst the joyful squeals of children and reprimanding voices of their parents.

He stood alone with no one but loneliness by his side and the brisk flash of cameras in his peripherals.

_____

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athys-obelia · 3 years

Text

summary: no one's evil au lmfaooo but make it pt. 2

character/s: anastacius de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, athanasia de alger obelia, jennette de alger obelia

and here's part 1 <3

oh my god okay. okay. so.

ana, claude, athy and jennette - they go on a LOT of vacations

claude complains every single time but anastacius pulls his trump card and sends athy and jettie BOTH after him

u think he's strong enough to say no after that? lmao jokes

and their vacations always go this way:

jennette: isn't this scenery just gorgeous, uncle

claude: indeed it is. and...quiet

jennette: ...too quiet

[cut to anastacius in the distance, fighting a bear as athy cheers him on]

athy + anastacius, hands down the most chaotic pairing yes i will not be taking criticism

they have tea in ana's palace everyday, just the two of them, they're so poised and picture perfect through the entire thing everyone thinks it's just the emperor giving profound advice to his heir

it's actually them deadass scheming,,, ana has no qualms discussing everything from court gossip to military tactics, both of which she's so on top of all the time

if anyone shit talks jennette or claude, this tea party is where their slow and agonizing demise is planned out to the dot

[true story - count sivan once made the fatal mistake of expressing his favour for athy as the next empress, dissing jennette by comparing her to athy sm which inevitably sparked a debate that ranked the princesses. a week after athy's sources informed her of the kindling behind this new debate, the count's sudden divorce became the talk of the town, and the man's business faced bankruptcy all of a sudden. the sivans still haven't recovered.)

athy n jennette were actually allowed to visit kiel in arlanta a few times, except it was too dark at their first arrival, postponing the meeting to the next morning

buttt then jettie can't sleep and she decides on a midnight snack run (their hotel doesn't really have the maids the palace does, but oh well. she's left the palace w lucas n athy plenty of times)

felix tags along btw, he knows this trip is important to the girls since they're leaving the palace without their Overprotective Papas™ for the first time and want some sense of independence, but... she's just so smol n he couldn't bear it if anything happens so he just shadows her

she totally knows he's there

n e ways so there's a juice place right beside their hotel which she aims for, but when jennette reaches it, it's closed

and out of nowhere, a voice addresses her - "hey you, do you come here a lot?" she nearly jumps out of her skin at the brunette, relaxing when she sees he's literally a kid around her age and not a murderer lmfaoo "me neither," he continues without waiting for her, pouting at the closed sign, before he asks for her name and whether she's new in arlanta

she confirms that yes, she's only visiting, and refuses to tell the stranger her name, still feeling strange at being addressed as 'you' for the first time (well, minus lucas, but he was like her brother and had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, so)

he eyes her. "you're so weird. i've never seen a girl out so late before, and alone too. are you stupid?"

(felix has his sword out at this point)

she's flushing now and has no idea why she's still out here, but then this stranger kid apparently senses her mood and tells her the best ice cream store in arlanta is not too far away

(he also explains he knows someone who's starts doing weird things when she's hungry as well, and tries to defend that ice cream is actually a healthy midnight snack, "you can just take a healthy flavour like strawberry or mango, mangos are healthy,,right"💀️💀)

so jettie has travelled all the way from obelia, she loves her papa but he would have a heart attack if he found out she was ever awake this late?? yeah bc she's never getting this chance again, jennette accepts the offer

the stranger boy seems to be taking the whole "i'm not telling you my name," thing like a joke, and asks what he should call her since 'you' was getting boring

she goes with "lady j" and like a knight, the boy becomes "sir c"

(felix is on the verge of committing a crime - the princesses can only have one knight, after all)

they walk as the the boy navigates the streets in the dark, and she asks whether he's from the academy, seeing his uniform

"of course i am! you could probably tell bc i look so smart, right?"

she snorts. "yeah, that."

she also comes to know that this guy,,,well he might as well be a tourist? she's out here asking stuff like "oh where's the statue of lady alphia?" or "aren't we really close to the museum where they keep the first emperor's sword?" and he goes "lady do i look like your brochure?? but if you turn right from here there's a cool arcade and across the street from there is the best street food vendor you'll ever eat from."

well at least mans had his priorities straight 😌

"so can you take this off?" he asks, pointing towards her dress once they've neared the store

um???????? sir tf????????????

anyways jettie has been living with lucas n her dad farr too long to not take this the wrong way?? "...no?"

the boy raises an eyebrow "look, it looks like an expensive cloak but i promise i'll return it, alright? i gotta hide my uniform."

ohhhhhhh. 😳.

so she unfastens the cloak and because he's kinda just staring at it cluelessly (he can't even tie his shoelaces fight me), jennette sighs and moves the clothing over his shoulder, fastening it in place at his neck

he's literally a tomato when she looks back up and realises that yes, we are way too close rn

bc she's ana's daughter, jennette by default cannot function when she's flustered. so she kinda stumbles backwards like a fish out of water (years of princess training n etiquette? where art thou??) and 'sir c' has to grab her forearm so she doesn't bump into the pillar behind her smfh

the shopkeep is definitely suspicious of this pair that's definitely too young to be out so late, but chalks it down to his sleeplessness

they escape the store with the ice cream before the shopkeep can ask any questions, and 'sir c' escorts jennette back to her hotel. he climbs onto the roof of the building, helping her up as well

(felix wishes he had a magic stone to capture this moment, this is the first time he's seen jennette become such fast friends with someone)

she stands on the roof (it hurts her butt so she doesn't wanna sit)

"my sister would be so jealous right now," jennette murmurs, "she told me her ideal first date would be either a picnic or something like a moonlit walk. we're having like a moonlit picnic."

it's silent for a few seconds the boy speaks up, "is this a date?"

oh-

oh.

"i mean- i didn't- i don't- uh."

give her some time lmfao she's loading

"i don't really mind that," he tells her, and she thinks she might just walk off the roof in her embarrassment - who just says something like that?? "you're probably feeling really lucky right now, right?"

jennette: ✊😔

he does look pretty in the moonlight, she admits to herself, listening as he excitedly tells her about his siblings at home and how she should send an offering to the gods since they gave her the good fortune to be on a date with the most good looking one of all four of them

in turn, she tells him about how she spent her childhood away from her amazing dad and had gotten closer to him recently, about her sharp-witted uncle, her sister and friends

(the 'friends' section includes felix and he's melting)

she smiles - it's almost as if, at finding out he treasures his family just as much as she does, they've gotten a bit closer

and he tries to listen. jennette had guessed that his temperament was somewhat like her dad's - her dad didn't know how to listen, always making his opinion known before anything else, though she supposes as emperor he could do that

'sir c', on the other hand, tried his best, his blue eyes focused on her as he almost burst from the unsaid words he was holding back, trying to let her finish. the sight was an odd mix of sad and insanely adorable that she couldn't help but let him tell her about everything he couldn't hold in

sensing she could pass out from her exhaustion nearly half an hour later, and 'sir c' escorts her to her window and helps her sneak in bc "what sort of knight would i be otherwise?!"

(felix can't stop shaking the entire night)

the next morning, jennette's heart is pounding as kiel shows her, athy and felix across campus - the chance is low, but still...

"ezekiel!" comes a voice, and the four watch as a turquoise haired boy waves down the alpheus heir "are these the guests you mentioned?"

kiel introduces the trio to johannes vastia before asking, "where's cabel?"

"at the training grounds, he asked if you could bring everyone there so he could show them around there."

"... they're my guests though?"

athy is quick to befriend johannes (i mean she and his sister are practically the same person, so) and at the grounds, jennette's blood runs cold

(so does felix's)

the brunette doesn't notice her at first, arguing with johannes about something as kiel introduces him as cabel ernst

jennette is hyperventilating?? actually back up is this girl even breathing??

cabel ernst from kiel's letters? the 'loud and obnoxious cabel ernst', who gradually turned into 'my acquaintance cabel ernst', then 'hardworking, passionate cabel ernst', and finally 'my friend cabel'?

she'd actually rather admired this slow build of respect between her friend and the ernst boy, and had even expressed her interest to meet him

"this is the first daughter of his highness prince claude de alger obelia, princess athanasia-" cabel mock salutes the princess before his mouth forms an 'o' and he remembers to bow, "-and here's the emperor's only daughter, her highness princess je-"

andddd his eyes widen comically "-hey, lady, it's you?"

yeah jettie is on the brink of literal death - her entire face reddens as this...cabel, grins at her

she watches as he glances behind her, "and you're the guy who was following us - sup?"

felix flinches "...you knew...?"

cabel shrugs. "i mean you do kinda suck ass at the whole subtle thing."

"don't say it like that," jennette retorts, "felix was trying his best."

"princess 😭😭 you knew as well?"

"uhhhh no?"

athy + kiel in a corner: 👁️👄👁️

they watch as cabel's eyes widen all of a sudden and he just,,,runs away

...🐦...🐦...🐦...

yeah well anyway he comes rushing back a few minutes later, a piece of cloth in his hand "...*huff* here *huff*...you go."

athy totally flips out "jennette is that your CLOAK???!??"

"uhhhhh no?"

"um do you realise uncle would literally wage war at this."

and as if it would make everything better,

"i washed it," cabel offers with a grin

"you didn't," the vastia heir deadpans

"i mean, johan helped a little bit."

kiel smiles murderously at the pair. "johan, did you know cabel took the princess out?"

"wait, you're a PRINCESS??"

your honour they aren't very smart

so the group orders some coffee (milk for cabel smfh) to find out what happened, cabel mentions "date" and everything goes to shit again lmfao

kiel and felix scheme against poor cabel while athy n johan get over that stage pretty quick ("listen. MY sister will be living with ME after the marriage and if your friend wants to be with her he'll have to come with us to obelia." and johan's just like "fine by me ✌️😊") and start planning the wedding

cabel + jennette dip n sneak out of the academy again to get the juice they couldn't the night before bc shit is getting awkward here

on another note, our uncle cius' musical intelligence is actually very high - he can probably play more instruments than i can name tbh, but he feels most comfortable singing and i shit you not, this man has straight up an angel's voice

(didn't like singing in front of others coz he was secretly a nerd and only knew old love songs with deep lyrics, athy found out and educated him)

jennette tends to have nightmares often, most often regarding their family - she's seen her father murder her uncle for the throne, and vice versa, athy admitting her affections towards jennette were a front to get the position of crown princess, her uncle killing her to solidify athy's claim, etc - her family is her everything, so despite however many times these horrible scenes play before her, she's left sobbing uncontrollably

and on these nights, she leaves for her father's room, who holds her close and sings her to sleep

also lucas n jennette are like sibling duo# 1,,, jettie is an active lucathy shipper even though he denies it sm - like their dynamic is just peaceful walks in the gardens as she watches the plants n lucas shi talks the nobility and kiel

claude and athy have a thing for each other's sleeping on each other? idk it's weird

athy once fell asleep on the couch while reading with him, and claude moved her head onto his lap so she wouldn't be uncomfy sitting - well, she woke up to his hand absentmindedly raking through her hair and it was just so soothing that whenever she's tired and he's working or reading, she just plops her head on his lap and zzzz

and claude wondered what was up with that, so she proposed they switch roles and he felt so awkward trying to lay down in front of her lmao

obviously athy noticed and she just started reading, thinking he might be more comfortable if her attention isn't on him completely - she ended up reading out loud while playing with his collar and he just,,,passed out

also anastacius has definitely pulled jennette aside regarding the issue of his heir at some point - she had been hesitant at first before admitting she wouldn't like to be the empress at all

i know we'd all love to see empress!jettie and her sister duchess!athy ruling the court, but i really really really can't see her wanting the title?

so thus start athy's empress lessons, but holy shit her teacher is mean

like this man makes me want to bash his face in?? so he doesn't like the idea of athy becoming empress over jennette at all, all bc of both hers and claude's mothers being commoners

he has one of those long ass sticks that you use in presentation to point at stuff?? idk but basically mans has athy name every region, its lords and their vassals during their first lesson

the first time she gets one wrong, she's too shocked as the stick meets the delicate skin of her forearm to react

now the thing is, wmmap!athy would probably stand up against this bc her dad is the emperor and she's his only heir, but i imagine with anastacius' social nature he holds many parties / balls where she's probably heard claude's mom + diana slander and it wouldn't be unreasonable for her to be self conscious abt it (now she's the emperor's heir while jennette, 100% royal + noble blood, is right there which probably makes her feel even less legitimate)

so she endures it, the light marks on her arms as well as the taunts of his she's too smart to not understand - perhaps this is the price to be accepted in jennette's place?

and honestly, no one really notices until at breakfast a few weeks in, where jennette mentions how her dresses are still so modest when sleeveless dresses were more in fashion - ana is suspicious because athy is always on top of these things, societal trends and such, and claude is sus from the way she hesitates slightly in her answer, "i haven't had the time lately, i suppose"

the lesson after focuses on ettiquete since everyone knows she's good at politics and such already, but now tears of frustration are pooling in her eyes because what the hell?? this guy had made an opinion of her long before he even met her, so anything she did would be wrong in his eyes

he gives her a sinister smile, "tired, princess?"

"no," she insists, keeping her voice level. he's about to spout some other nonsense, when anastacius enters the room, taking a seat across from her

anastacius watches quietly as athy answers the teacher's questions in her "public" voice. he watches as her usually cheery disposition is replaced by something far more...dead, despite the front she puts on for him. he's soundless as she hesitates in her answers where she normally would've been louder, more confident. he stops watching in silence when his niece flinches at the sight of the stick

oh.

he interrupts her lesson, not missing the way she winces almost imperceptibly when he grabs ahold of her arm, announcing, "we're going."

he just- it's just that that was the moment he knew for sure - the sight of his niece emotionally disheveled for the first time reminds him too much of how his own brother had once been, and he'd... he'd promised he wouldn't let anyone hurt his family anymore

he ends up taking her to the port with some of his advisors to welcome some royal guests, insisting that she would learn better from experience rather than books - but the guest delegation gets so boring that he sneaks her out of the meeting n they end up in the streets

now athy has no idea where they are, but apparently her uncle does?? ana has his hand on her head as he navigates the streets of the capitol as if he comes here everyday, using magic to casually disguise the two of them

in the meantime?

felix is at the port trying to cover for them smfh, he makes up this huge story about how the great wise emperor wanted to familiarize his heir with the locals, understand her subjects, yada yada

back at the palace prince claude is currently dragging a man by his collar and only upon jennette's insistence does he throw him in prison rather than literally kill him

(jettie visits him later in prison to give the guy a piece of her mind, after felix's visit he's sporting a few noticable bruises and the prisoner is practically unrecognizable once lucas visits)

back to athy + ana, they end up stuffing themselves with some super good street food as anastacius confesses that yes, he has definitely been sneaking out of the palace ever since he was a lil kid

athy almost mentions that she, lucas n jettie sneak out too but that might give him a heart attack, so

"it's so pretty, uncle cius," she says, gesturing towards the necklace he holds up. once he's paid for it, anastacius fists the necklace, opening it to reveal the jewel pendant - now imbued with his magic and replaced with gold lettering of the word athanasia

and she realises that yes, that's what both him and her dad have called her all her life, haven't they?

"you're my heir, athanasia," he uncle tells her with a small smile, "i am proud of that."

getting teary, she tells him, "i'm really proud of you too, uncle cius," triggering a very flustered + blushy anastacius

this mans craves validation - not from the sycophantic nobility, or the obsequious concubines he'd dismissed all those years ago, but from the family he thought he'd neither have nor deserve

and just the acknowledgement is so large for athy - he wants her as his heir, not because she's his niece, but bc he trusts her to look after his hard work after him??? - yeah she's totally bawling her eyes out

anastacius magics her a handkerchief but my mans magic isn't that strong?? lmao he's used up so much by now that the 'handkerchief' turns out to be some scratchy tissues

awkward amirite

nope! athy laughs at that, offering him a sip of her drink as she magics another straw and a proper handkerchief lmfaoo

n e ways so when they return, everyone's shocked to learn that the crown heir, princess athanasia will actually be joining the official circles as anastacius' temporary aid - he doesn't wanna entrust her to anyone but family, and decides that the best way to learn is by his side

(she's so confused bc lucas doesn't normally bat an eyelash when she wears the prettiest gowns, but he deadass can't look her in the eyes when she's in her aid uniform - it's more like a suit than it is a dress)

yes lucas women in suits >>>>>

everyone is STUNNED when at dinner, claude proposes they leave on vacation??

anastacius is just not having it?? like no, this is not my brother, and he throws a grape at claude to check if it's a clone or sum (¿¿how does that work??)

anyays so he ain't no felix, ana's aim is ass and it hits jettie instead

mans nearly gets on his knees to apologise

long story short everyone preps for vacation, but by some aCCiDeNt claude n athy end up at a different destination than jettie n ana, when she suggests returning to the palace to regroup, mans deadass sulks

"so you wouldn't like to spend this time with your father, despite barely visiting my office for weeks?"

o-oh

so at their return, the nobility starts pestering everyone that the princesses aren't independent enough, yada yada idc so to quell this annoyance, to the girls' joy, they get to move into emerald palace together, while claude and ana stay in the ruby and main palaces respectively

literally emerald palace becomes such a cool place to be in since it's the residence of the only decent people in this family, the brothers spend hours going through the requests of maids who want to be transferred

it's such a busy time because of athy joining the court and jettie starting her studies as well - naturally, since she isn't becoming empress, she'll be getting the duchy claude + athy were to be given in the beginning

speaking of futures, jettie's interest in plants and cooking has definitely branched out into herbs

claude notices her tending to a small garden during his visit to athy and even gives her a few tips (he had been studying medical since he was a kid, and picked it up again when athy was born and the empire stablised somewhat)

this soon becomes a routinely thing, and he actually starts reading up on some herbs and even orders a few for her prospering garden

after a month of her learning from books, claude proposes adding a medic as one of her teachers, and turns out his hunch was right?? she's excelling at medicine and they keep it between themselves for the time being

it doesn't last long though, bc they're on a hunting trip when ana injures his leg

and !! this girl istg, she gets to cleaning and wrapping the wound without blinking an eye, as if it's the most natural thing ever, and claude is just smirking while athy and anastacius and literally everyone else: 🌟💞✨jettie✨💞🌟

literal tears coming out of anastacius' eyes "how come my daughter is smarter than me😭💅"

claude: that's not a very high standard, brother

anastacius: ✨suddenly i'm an only child✨

behold, the people in charge of running an empire everyone 👏👏👏

even though jennette is claude's (unofficial) student and athy is her uncle's heir, they both ask their dads to the debutante

yes athy does dance with lucas, anastacius sent him an invitation even though he wasn't a noble (he's an active match maker 😌) and nobody dared question the emperor's special guest

at the end of the night, kiel gives jettie a letter from arlanta - it's an invitation to the academy during holidays, from a certain brunette

when she brings up the subject, felix lets out a squeak and literally everyone goes silent 😭😭

athy n kiel are just out here DARING him to spill them beans

but anastacius takes on look at his excited lil kid and decides that yups, she's going to get everything she wants

a/n: i literally don't know how many parts this should have lmaoo but y'all made it this far!! thanks for reading i hope you liked it<3

#non dysfunctional family!au #or ana decides to stop being a shithead!au #functional family!au ??#wmmap #sbapod #who made me a princess #suddenly became a princess one day #anastacius de alger obelia #claude de alger obelia #athanasia de alger obelia #felix robane #lucas #jennette magrita #jeannette magrita #kiel alpheus #ezekiel alpheus #beware of the brothers #cabel ernst #johannes vastia

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

Glass House

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

I got people blamin' me for shit they did to me

Lots of people shamin' me for shit they didn't see

So point the finger, pull the trigger, throw them off your trail

You're diggin' me my grave, but keep the shovel nearby

Dig your own right next to mine

I got people sayin' take an eye for an eye

I just turn the other cheek cause you ain't worth my time

'Cause you see in black and white

But there's more than just wrong and right

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Summary: Lines start to blur between wrong and right as you and Draco try to make it through the first semester of sixth year alive. Can you both keep up the charade long enough to survive? Can laughter and smiles hide what’s lurking underneath?

A/n: Y’all know what’s up. I’m so excited for this chapter honestly because there is so much character growth in our power duo as well as side characters and ugh I would die for Pansy. Also, I haven’t quite decided what to do with Snape yet... I don’t really hate him, not that I particularly like him either. Anyway, let me know what you think! I love seeing all of your comments you have absolutely no idea!! Stay strong and always keep fighting: this chapter deals with some dark stuff. I hope that you all see how to find a ray of sunshine in the midst of hell by reading this. ((I also cleaned up my taglist and got rid of the ones that tumblr wasn’t letting me tag anymore, so if I accidentally deleted you, lmk and I’ll add you back!! And Tumblr still isn’t allowing me to add a lot of you and I’m sorry ://// It’s not that I don’t love you bc I’m trying here))

Prologue:

“Cissy, you must not do this, you can’t trust him —”

“The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn’t he?” Narcissa snapped back at her sister.

“The Dark Lord is . . . I believe . . . mistaken,” Bella panted, and her eyes gleamed momentarily under her hood as she looked around to check that they were indeed alone. “In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord’s —”

“Let go, Bella!” Narcissa snarled, and she drew a wand from beneath her cloak, holding it threateningly in her sister’s face. Bella merely laughed.

“Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn’t —”

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do anymore!” Narcissa breathed, a note of hysteria in her voice, and as she brought down the wand like a knife, there was another flash of light. Bella let go of her sister’s arm as though burned.

“Narcissa!”

But Narcissa had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, Bellatrix followed again, keeping her distance now. At last, Narcissa hurried up a street named Spinner’s End, over which the towering mill

She had knocked on the door before Bella, cursing under her breath, had caught up. Together they stood waiting, panting slightly, breathing in the smell of the dirty river that was carried to them on the night breeze. After a few seconds, they heard movement behind the door, and it opened a crack.

A sliver of a man could be seen looking out at them, a man with long black hair parted in curtains around a sallow face and black eyes.

Narcissa threw back her hood.

“Narcissa!” said the man, opening the door a little wider, so that the light fell upon her and her sister. “What a pleasant surprise!

“Severus,” she said in a strained whisper. “May I speak to you? It’s urgent.”

“But of course.” He stood back to allow her to pass him into the house, Bellatrix following suit.

“Snape,” she said curtly as she passed him.

“Bellatrix,” he replied, his thin mouth curling into a slightly mocking smile as he closed the door with a snap behind them.

Snape gestured Narcissa to the sofa. She threw off her cloak, cast it aside, and sat down, staring at her white and trembling hands clasped in her lap. Bellatrix lowered her hood more slowly.

“So, what can I do for you?” Snape asked, settling himself in the armchair opposite the two sisters.

“We . . . we are alone, aren’t we?” Narcissa asked quietly. He nodded in confirmation.

“Severus, I’m sorry to come here like this, but I had to see you. I think you are the only one who can help me I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing to anyone, but —” Narcissa rushed out, her words stumbling over each other.

“Then you ought to hold your tongue!” snarled Bellatrix. “Particularly in present company!”

“‘Present company’?” repeated Snape sardonically. “And what am I to understand by that, Bellatrix?”

“That I don’t trust you, Snape, as you very well know!”

Narcissa let out a noise that might have been a dry sob and covered her face with her hands. Snape set his glass down upon the table and sat back again, his hands upon the arms of his chair, smiling into Bellatrix’s glowering face.

“Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it will save tedious interruptions. Well, continue, Bellatrix,” said Snape. “Why is it that you do not trust me?”

Narcissa tuned the bickering pair out as her thoughts started to spiral again. Draco consumed her psyche and in turn so did Y/n. They were woven together in fate as she and Lucius were and

Narcissa was sure of the matter. It seemed like eons had passed since Narcissa found herself in Y/n’s shoes, and she knew that somewhere she had failed watching her love turn into a monster and she did not wish the same fate upon her son.

“That was not my fault!” said Bellatrix, flushing. “The Dark Lord has, in the past, entrusted me with his most precious — if Lucius hadn’t —”

“Don’t you dare — don’t you dare blame my husband!” Narcissa hissed, in a low and deadly voice, looking up at her sister, butting into their squabbling.

“There is no point apportioning blame,” said Snape smoothly. “What is done, is done.”

“But not by you!” said Bellatrix furiously and the two continued to argue until Bellatrix still looked unhappy, though she appeared unsure how best to attack Snape next. Taking advantage of her silence, Snape turned to her Narcissa.

“Now . . . you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?” Narcissa looked up at him, her face eloquent with despair.

“Yes, Severus. I — I think you are the only one who can help me, I have nowhere else to turn. Lucius is in jail and...” She closed her eyes and letting free the tears that had been threatening to fall for days. “The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it,” Narcissa continued, her eyes still closed. “He wishes none to know of the plan. It is... very secret. But—”

“If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak,” said Snape at once. “The Dark Lord’s word is law.”

Narcissa gasped as though he had doused her with cold water. Bellatrix looked satisfied for the first time since she had entered the house.

“There!” she said triumphantly to her sister. “Even Snape says so: You were told not to talk, so hold your silence!”

But Snape had gotten to his feet and strode to the small window, peered through the curtains at the deserted street, then closed them again with a jerk. He turned around to face Narcissa, frowning.

“It so happens that I know of the plan,” he said in a low voice. “I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in on the secret, Narcissa, you would have been guilty of great treachery to the Dark Lord.”

“I thought you must know about it!” Narcissa relaxed, breathing more freely. “He trusts you so, Severus...”

“You know about the plan?” said Bellatrix, her fleeting expression of satisfaction replaced by a look of outrage. “You know?”

“Certainly,” said Snape. “But what help do you require, Narcissa? If you are imagining I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I am afraid there is no hope, none at all.”

“Severus,” she whispered, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. “My son . . . my only son . . .”

“Draco should be proud,” said Bellatrix indifferently. “The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: He isn’t shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, and he should, since he’s in love with that filthy little blood-traitor—”

“Watch your tongue Bellatrix! I was in her position when the first war began!” Narcissa’s voice became cold and harsh before she turned back to Snape. “Draco is barely sixteen and has no idea what lies in store! Why Severus? Why my son? This is vengeance for Lucius’s mistake, and I know it!”

Snape said nothing. His lack of response confirmed her fears. Again, her Lucius had been twisted in such a way to damage her son.

“That’s why he’s chosen Draco, isn’t it?” Her voice held no ounce of hope. “To punish Lucius?”

“If Draco succeeds,” said Snape, still looking away from her, “he will be honored above all others.”

“But he won’t succeed!” Narcissa rose, almost yelling. “Severus...please...You are, you have always been, Draco’s favorite teacher... and his godfather...I beg you... You are the Dark Lord’s favorite, his most trusted advisor...Will you speak to him, persuade him —?”

“The Dark Lord will not be persuaded, and I am not stupid enough to attempt it,” said Snape flatly. “I cannot pretend that the Dark Lord is not angry with Lucius. Lucius was supposed to be in charge. He got himself captured, along with how many others, and failed to retrieve the prophecy into the bargain. Yes, the Dark Lord is angry, Narcissa, very angry indeed. And I think even more so since Draco has found himself weak with that girl,” He snarled the word.

“Then I am right, he has chosen Draco in revenge!” choked Narcissa. “He does not mean him to succeed, he wants him to be killed trying!”

When Snape said nothing, Narcissa seemed to lose what little self-restraint she still possessed. Standing up, she stalked to Snape and seized the front of his robes. Her face close to his, her tears falling onto his chest, she hissed, “You could do it. You could do it instead of Draco, Severus. You would succeed, of course you would, and he would reward you beyond all of us— ”

Snape caught hold of her wrists and removed her clutching hands. Looking down into her tearstained face, he said slowly, “He intends me to do it in the end, I think. But he is determined that Draco should try first. You see, in the unlikely event that Draco succeeds, I shall be able to remain at Hogwarts a little longer, fulfilling my useful role as spy.”

“In other words, it doesn’t matter to him if Draco is killed!”

“The Dark Lord is very angry,” repeated Snape quietly. “He failed to hear the prophecy. You know as well as I do, Narcissa, that he does not forgive easily.”

Narcissa sneered and paced away, staring at the hearth. “My only son...my only son...”

“You should be proud!” said Bellatrix ruthlessly. “If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!”

Narcissa gave a little scream of frustration and clutched at her long blonde hair, before drawing her wand and pointing it at Bellatrix.

“You will never understand what this is like Bellatrix! You question my loyalty to the Dark Lord but what have I not given to him!? What have I not scarified!? He has taken my love! My family! My sisters! Now he has my son!”

“Narcissa, that’s enough. Listen to me.” Snape stood between the two sisters and Narcissa lowered her wand. “It might be possible . . . for me to help Draco.”

“Severus — oh, Severus — you would help him? Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm? He needs someone,” Narcissa gasped out desperately, her anger fading.

“I thought he had his precious little Hufflepuff,” Bellatrix sneered, but Snape paid her no mind.

“I can try to aid Draco,”

Narcissa composed herself, relief flooding through her veins as she gave him a slight nod.

“If you are there to protect him... Severus, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable V ow?”

“The Unbreakable Vow?” Snape’s expression was blank, unreadable. Bellatrix cackled a laugh but Narcissa paid her no mind. Instead her eyes were trained on dark black ones that held a glimpse of hope.

“He loves her, Severus,” Narcissa’s voice was soft, lost under her sister’s snarking remarks. “You must understand that. Give him the chance you never had,”

Something passed between them, a memory of a girl with bright red hair and a boy who got lost along the way. “I shall make the Unbreakable Vow,” he said quietly. “Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder.”

Bellatrix’s mouth fell open. Snape and Narcissa grasped right hands, not breaking eye contact.

“You will need your wand, Bellatrix,” said Snape coldly. She drew it, still looking astonished. “And you will need to move a little closer,” he said.

She stepped forward so that she stood over them and placed the tip of her wand on their linked hands.

Narcissa spoke. “Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wishes?”

“I will,” said Snape.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire.

“And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him and his love from harm?”

“I will,” said Snape. A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing chain.

“And, should it prove necessary . . . if it seems Draco will fail . . .” Narcissa could barely make the words out, “will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?”

There was a moment’s silence. Bellatrix watched, her wand upon their clasped hands, her eyes wide.

“I will,” said Snape.

Bellatrix’s astounded face glowed red in the blaze of a third tongue of flame, which shot from the wand, twisted with the others, and bound itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a rope, like a fiery snake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft sigh left my lips as I looked around my barren childhood room. Draco’s hands found their way to my hips as he stood behind me, taking in the same scene.

“It looks so much smaller now,” I murmured softly.

“Your home is at the Manor,” His lips pressed softly to the shell of my ear. “And we’ll be at Hogwarts soon enough,”

“Oh joy,” I muttered, a smile finding my lips at I turned, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Are you sure we can’t just run away to Paris?”

A smile barely touched Draco’s lips.

“If I could, I would take you anywhere safe in a heartbeat,” His fingers brushed my cheek softly, sending a shiver down my spine. “But...”

“But our work is here,” I finished, straightening the lapels of his blazer, smoothing them out. “Are you sure you want to give up being a prefect?” I asked for about the hundredth time. “We still are kids Draco,”

His hands found mine, our fingers intertwining.

“It’s too much to have to worry about,” He murmured softly. “I already fear for both of our lives this year, let alone having to worry about prefect duty and classes,”

Sighing softly, I nodded, my hand creeping up his left arm and resting over his sleeve, over the Mark.

“I love you,” The words constantly left my lips as well as his. A constant reassurance that it would pull us through.

“As I love you,” He smiled this time, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Now, we’re going to be late. Pansy and Abby are already at the station,”

The Hogwarts Express shone in all of her glory, but this time it seemed as if there was something off about her appearance. Like she had been tainted with the secrets that her passengers held and weighted down with the fear that hung in her thick smoke.

Narcissa hugged us both goodbye and Draco and I met up with Pansy and Abby, also with our other friends: Ernie, Hannah, Vincent, Gregory, Blaise, and Emme. Emme and Hannah fawned over my new clothes and the former muttered that it wasn’t fair that I got prettier every year. I blushed at her words that deepened when Draco agreed, his hand slipping around my waist.

Settled in a compartment Ernie, Pansy and Abby all left for prefect duty—Abby had taken my place as Hufflepuff prefect. I wasn’t sure if anyone had taken over Draco’s position, nor did I fret about caring.

After the three had returned, there was a nervous tap on our compartment door. Emme opened the door and a third-year girl with large blue eyes and raven hair.

“T-these are f-for Abby B-Bones, B-Blaise Zab-bini and Y-Y/n Y/l/n.” She squeaked.

I stood, smiling kindly, Abby took her place beside me. The girl gawked up at us and maybe she had reason to; we weren’t exactly your average Hufflepuffs any longer.

“Thank you,” I took the parchments from her hands.

She nodded and with one more quick look around the compartment, she dashed off down the hall.

“What is it?” Draco was by my side, looking over my shoulder.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do,” I teased softly. “Impatient much?”

I unfolded the letter.

Y/n,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely,

Professor H. E. F. Slughorn

“Slughorn?” I said dubiously, trying to make out the overly ridiculous cursive font. “A new teacher?”

Draco took the note from my hands and I rolled my eyes, now peering over his shoulder. “Are you going to go?” Draco’s voice was calm and collected.

He was hiding his fear and disdain of me leaving his side even momentarily. My eyes found Abby’s and we had a silent conversation.

“I’ll go, see what it’s all about,” Abby spoke. “If this Slughorn really wants to meet Y/n, I’ll tell him where he can find you,”

“Thank you,” I wrapped her in a hug. “Be careful,”

“You too,”

Blaise and Abby left—after Abby and Pansy shared a parting kiss that had me blushing and hiding in Draco’s shoulder. After a while, Draco stretched out on the empty seats, his head in my lap. My fingers played with his hair that had just been cut before the start of the new school term. I had to admit that I missed his shaggy hair. He looked much older now.

I was about asleep when the compartment door opened again, and Abby and Blaise came back in. Draco sat up momentarily, and we both looked expectantly to Abby for news while Blaise wrestled with the door.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” He snapped angrily as he smashed the sliding door repeatedly against something that didn’t seem to be there.

My eyes flashed to Draco’s and he kept his cool. I took his lead and looked to Abby as she went on about the meeting with Slughorn lamenting to Pansy. Draco’s eyes still lingered on the door, following something that wasn’t quite there.

Draco laid back down in my lap and my fingers resumed their task in his hair. His hand found mine and carefully he traced one letter on the back of my hand: “H.” To anyone else it would have looked like a comforting gesture.

I quickly signed one word to Abby: Harry.

She gave a small nod but didn’t let on that she knew anything. In fact, we settled back into the conversation of Slughorn and lunch.

“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” Blaise rolled his eyes, huffing at Gregory who was trying to casually slip his arm around Blaise’s shoulders. “Not that he managed to find many.”

“Well-connected?” I frowned, my thoughts briefly straying from the fact we were being watched by the Golden Boy. “For what reason?”

“Dunno,” Abby shrugged, signing the letter H, reminding me. “No one too fancy, McLaggen from Gryffindor,”

“His uncle’s big in the Ministry,” Draco explained softly.

“— someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw —”

“Not him, he’s a prat!” Pansy exclaimed in horror.

“— and Longbottom, Potter, and Ginny Weasley,” Abby finished.

Draco sat up, my hands falling to my lap. He pressed an apologetic kiss to my temple and sat up straight next to me.

“He invited Longbottom?” Draco sounded almost dismayed at the fact.

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” Blaise said indifferently, now tucked under Gregory’s arm.

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?” Draco muttered.

“What’s he got interest in me or Abby?” I pointed out. “It’s just a prissy preppy club filled people who don’t have any real charm other than who they know,” I huffed. “Well, present company excluded... And Neville has always been a sweetheart, and I don’t really know about Ginny...” I trailed off and both Abby and Pansy were rolling their eyes at me, but Draco was still distracted. “But...”

“Potter,” Draco picked up on my train of thought. “Precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at ‘the Chosen One,’” He sneered.

“Dray,” I called softly, snapping him from his thoughts. Though I still had a distaste for Harry, I knew that it wasn’t good for Draco to get worked up about Harry because it was hard to reason with him when he did. Draco laid back down in my lap and for the third time my fingers stroked through his hair.

“Maybe he’s going a bit senile.” Pansy offered. “No offense babe,” She mended quickly looking to Abby.

“Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his...” I heard the hurt in Draco’s voice this time.

“We’re more than who are parents were, or are,” I reminded him softly. “And this Slughorn seems... shady,”

“Who cares what he’s interested in?” Draco agreed, a bit more defensive than normal. “What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher.” He yawned ostentatiously and I laughed, ruffling his hair. “I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what’s it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?”

“Draco,” I scolded.

I’d let him get snappy and defensive sure, but he couldn’t just go around telling our plans to everyone. We needed secrecy for this to work.

“What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?” Abby demanded, looking to me.

I gave her a sharp look and signed “listen” and my eyes darted up towards the trunk compartments above our heads and she simmered down, remembering that we weren’t alone.

“Well, you never know,” Draco murmured softly, sulking up at me. “We could have... moved on. To bigger and better things,” There was an ounce of hope in his voice.

Everyone looked at the pair of us, either dumbfounded or suspicious.

“Do you mean — Him?” Pansy asked in a low voice.

Draco shrugged. If Draco was talking about better things, it would be moving onto a world where he didn’t exist.

“We’re finishing our education,” I pressed what seemed for like the hundredth time. “No matter how pointless it seems,” I muttered under my breath.

“The Dark Lord wants service, loyalty,” Draco reminded me. “Can’t do that from school can we?”

It was a constant argument we had. If we did manage his trial and came out victorious—as victorious as one could with what was asked of us—what would happen afterwards? Draco was convinced that he was going to actually take me away to Paris to be safe, but he had to see that I wasn’t going to abandon Hogwarts or our friends. After a while he agreed too, but it was always on the fence about the idea.

“And you think you’ll be able to do something for him?” Blaise unknowingly interrupted our silent standoff. “Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?”

“Maybe the job he wants me to do isn’t something that you need to be qualified for,” Draco whispered quietly. “I can see Hogwarts,” He sat up, looking out the train window. “We’d better get our robes on.”

___________________________________

Draco smiled as he fastened your silver cloak over your school robes and for a moment, he could believe that it was the winter of last year, that day in the snow.

“Pinnae hasn’t been out in a while,” He commented softly.

“Bigger things,” You replied softly. “Do you want her to...”

“I’m going to check on something,” Draco confirmed, knowing that you were still being watched. “You go on ahead.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, please,” You scolded again; your voice was so low that he doubted Potter could hear you.

With one last fleeting kiss, you left the compartment. Now Harry and Draco were alone. People were filing past, descending onto the dark platform. Draco closed the door and let down the blinds so that passersby couldn’t peer in.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Without warning, Draco pointed his wand—not your father’s—at Harry, who was instantly paralyzed.

Draco watched, as though in slow motion, Harry toppled out of the luggage rack and fell, with an agonizing, floor-shaking crash, at his feet, the Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath him, his whole body revealed with his legs still curled absurdly into the cramped kneeling position. Harry couldn’t move a muscle; he could only gaze up at Draco, who smiled wickedly.

“I thought so,” Draco grinned, kneeling down. “I heard Greg’s trunk hit you. And it’s hard to sneak when you have the most powerful wizards in the school in one compartment. We’re not idiots, Potter.”

His eyes lingered for a moment upon Harry’s trainers.

“And you didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I’ve got you here...”

Draco stamped, hard, on Harry’s face. He felt a satisfying crunch under his shoe and watched as blood poured from Harry’s nose.

“That’s for what you said to my Y/n. Now, let’s see...”

Draco dragged the cloak out from under Harry’s immobilized body and threw it over him.

“I don’t reckon they’ll find you till the train’s back in London,” he said quietly. “See you around, Potter... or not.”

And taking care to tread on Harry’s fingers, feeling quite satisfied, Draco left the compartment.

“What did you do?” You hissed at him as he got into the carriage, riding to school.

“Nothing,” Draco said with a cool smile. You gave him a flat look. “I might have broken his nose,” He grumbled. “And put him in a full body bind curse...” You raised your eyebrow, knowing that wasn’t it. He didn’t know if he loved or hated that you knew him that well, “and hid him under his invisibility cloak...”

“Draco!” You cried. “Are you serious!?”

“He’s been nothing but a prat to us Y/n!” Draco argued. “And after what he said to you at Diagon Alley? And last year when he accused you of double crossing him!?”

“Okay, yes, and you broke his nose. I’m fine with that,” You gestured. “But Draco won’t it be suspicious when he doesn’t show up to school!? We can’t afford to make any mistakes!”

You glared each other down and Draco closed his eyes and sighed. He heard a soft huff come from you and your arms wrapped around his waist. His curled around you instinctively.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” The words were soft from your lips. “But Draco you can’t let this silly feud come over you like this,”

“It’s not a silly feud,” He argued back. You gave him another look.

“We need him,” The confession was small. “If we want to beat this. It’s gonna take all of us,”

Draco didn’t want to admit you were right. But there was something about Harry that set him on edge. Like he was a danger to you at all times when he was near. He almost attracted it like a magnet.

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered softly. “Forgive me?” You nodded into his shoulder.

“I can see them,” You whispered softly, your head still tucked into his shoulder. “The thestrals. I always knew that they pulled the carriages but... I didn’t think that...”

You bit your lip, and he knew you were trying not to cry. Draco knew what the Dark Lord had made you witness, and it surprised him too, that seeing the death of your father counted when it was nothing but a memory. He stroked your hair softly and held you close the entire ride.

He hated that you had to part for the opening feast, watching the house sorting take place. When the Sorting Hat mentioned uniting within to face the dangers beyond the walls, his eyes flashed to yours, then over to the Gryffindor table. You were convinced that the Sorting Hat was right and that it would take unity in the school, but he wasn’t too sure. Was unity the key to his success? Would anyone want to stand beside him after what he was about to do?

His conscience was eased slightly when it was announced that Snape was now teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. If nothing else, you stood a better chance against what he dragged you into. Draco still had a disregard for Slughorn and couldn’t keep the grimace off his face.

Despite giving up your prefect duty, you still helped the first years off to your dormitories after waving a goodbye to him. It made him smile that some things never changed.

The next morning, he was surprised when you sat next to him at breakfast because schedules were being handed out and it was another morning that you were supposed to be with your House table.

“Got it last night,” You said as soon as you sat down, knowing the question before he asked. “I had to talk to Sprout about what I wanted to take anyways since I didn’t really ever decide on a career path.” Your voice was chipper, but there was something somber lurking beneath it.

Snape swept up behind the two of you and Draco was ready to defend you against his Head of House, but Snape simply handed Draco his schedule.

“Very well done,” Snape almost smiled, and for a moment Draco wondered what Snape was referring to. “On your O.W.L.s, you show a lot of promise Mr. Malfoy. As well as you Miss Y/n. I look forward to seeing you both in class,”

When Snape was out of ear shot, you gave him a look and he had no idea and no explanation. Snape had always been bearable towards him, but his contempt for you really baffled him. Draco assumed that Snape would loathe you because if anyone could persuade Draco out of his trial, it would be you. Sometimes Draco wondered why you didn’t.

In DADA the next day, Draco paired up with you and you two began to practice casting shielding charms without the incantation. The whole class was filled with shenanigans. Draco found comfort in the lesson, however. Through the summer break, you two had been working on defense spells against the Dark Arts as well as investing in them.

Draco knocked you off your feet for the third time and he could tell that you were getting frustrated. He offered his hand, righting you.

“Are you alright?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Yes,” You snapped. “Stupid spell,”

“Do you need a break?”

Your sharp look gave him his answer.

“You must completely trust the spell,” Snape instructed as he walked past. “It does not lie in a precise incantation of the words in your mind, but also the feeling of protection itself,”

Your eyebrows furrowed a moment then you poised. Draco raised his wand, ready to attack you with a Tripping Spell again, but as he cast it, the spell bounced harmlessly off of you and hit Weasley. A smile spread across your face when you realized what you had accomplished.

“Oi,”

And there went that happy moment. Harry stalked up to you and Draco was very close to sending a Tripping Spell at him.

“Hello Harry,” Your voice was calm, pleasant as you paid him no mind, offering your hand to Weasley, helping him up. “Sorry Ron, I guess I figured it out huh?” Your smile was dazzling and sweet and Ron gaped at you.

“How?” Ron asked.

“She’s cheating,” Harry snapped.

You gaped at him.

“Oh, come on really, Harry,” Hermione butted in as Draco strode to your side, his blue eyes meeting cold green ones. “Does that mean I’m cheating as well?”

Draco held a faint memory that you mentioned Hermione defending you against Harry’s remarks while DA was still active. He presumed that didn’t change either.

“Is there an issue?” Snape came towards the small group of students.

“No sir,” You smiled at the Professor. “I accidentally deflected the jinx and it hit Ron.”

“It was no accident,” Harry muttered.

Snape turned to Harry, glowering. “And perhaps you have an inkling of how Miss Y/l/n preformed a nonverbal spell? Since you seem to think she did it maliciously, you ought to know exactly how it works then?”

“No,” said Harry stiffly.

“No, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”

_________________________

My eyes widened in shock at the words that escaped Harry’s lips. I could feel the tension grow in the room as Snape’s glare amplified at Harry. I still couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.

“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter . . . not even ‘the Chosen One.’”

The professor was relatively calm for the situation. Draco, on the other hand, I had to grab his hand and give him a soft look. Going off on Harry in front of a bunch of witnesses was not the best situation to get ourselves into.

“So, how did you do it?” Draco asked as we left the room, class having gotten out.

“I... well,” My cheeks flushed slightly. “I thought about how safe I feel when I’m with you... that night after the tournament... or in the prefect baths after my first detention... that night...”

“Oh,” Draco had turned the same shade of red that I was, and I grinned at him.

We met up with Abby and Pansy as we went to sit at the Hufflepuff table, where the rest of our friends were. Pansy was griping about Ancient Runes homework despite it being the first day and I wasn’t looking forward to the work that Snape had assigned this morning either, but since N.E.W.T classes were only a few times a week, it left the lot of us with more free time to do the work.

Draco and I poured into our homework during our free hour before lunch, and since we had been studying Dark Magic among other things over the summer, it was unintentionally easier that it probably should have been. I intertwined my fingers with his.

“We’re gonna get through this,” Laying my head on his shoulder, I sighed softly. “We’re going to succeed. We’re going to be okay,”

He didn’t say anything, but his thumb stroked the back of my hand. It came time that we parted ways: Draco had double Potions and I had Herbology.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I smiled pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Especially with Potter in that class.” A pause, “I love you,”

“As I love you,” He whispered softly.

I hated watching him go, knowing that Slughorn was teaching Potions and that Harry was in his class. I worried more with each step that we were apart. It was true, we had maybe a week or two until we really had to start our plan and I wanted Draco to try and enjoy the career path of Auror in his N.E.W.T.s until then.

Walking into the greenhouses I saw the two other students composing this section of N.E.W.T. Herbology: Luna and Neville. I shed my robes and picked up a pair of dragonhide gloves. Even though it was the first day, Sprout had bowtruckles out on the desks. Steve seemed to remember me from the year prior and crawled back up on my arm. I took a seat next to Luna and Neville, who were interacting with their own bowtruckles.

They both smiled at me as I took out my notebook filled with my previous years notes from Herbology. It was getting to the point that my torn up, abused notebook was becoming more accurate than Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

“So, you and Malfoy?” Neville asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“Yeah,” I nodded, a tight smile on my lips and looked around anxiously. “Look, I know you two aren’t his biggest fans... but—”

“It’s important that we unite for the sake of the defeat of You-Know-Who,” Luna finished the words I couldn’t bring myself to say. “The Sorting Hat has been saying it for years... you’d think that someone would listen,”

“Harry’s got everyone thinking that Malfoy is some sort of Death Eater,” Neville confessed, and I froze momentarily before recovering.

“That self-righteous prat,” I muttered. “It never ends does it? Between those two? Even Draco is ridiculous about it,” I couldn’t help but laugh as the other two joined in. I sighed softly and shook my head, setting Steve down on the table.

“You know, they’re a lot more alike than they care to admit,” Luna said absentmindedly.

Neville and I were both about to refute the point when it seemed we both paused and considered her words. Was Draco similar to Harry? Yes. That was the simple answer. They were very alike, but on different sides of the same war. Two boys forced into legacies set by their parents and those around them. Powerful young wizards who no doubt just wanted to run away from it all.

“I never thought about it like that,” Neville whispered softly. “Makes Draco seem less...”

“And Harry a bit more...” I tacked on.

Sprout allowed us to interact and study the bowtruckles for the double hour of Herbology as she went over a rough outline for the year course and what we should expect on our finals. I left a few minutes early and rushed to the Potions class before it got out, meeting Draco at the door.

“Well? How’d it go?” I asked expectantly.

“Ask Potter,” He snapped, storming off.

My eyes met Harry’s and we were at a sort of standoff, until I remembered what Luna had said. The one I loved and the Chosen One were a bit more alike than I cared to admit. It softened my glare and allowed Slughorn to catch me in the hall.

“Miss Y/n!” He said merrily. “I missed you on the train, my dear!”

“Apologies,” I offered with a slightly smile. “I was otherwise occupied.”

“No doubt telling Malfoy how pretty he is,” Harry sneered.

“Careful Harry,” I said coolly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were harboring a crush there yourself after my boyfriend,”

Well that shut Harry up. I smiled victoriously, watching the Chosen One turn a shade of bright red in anger as Ron and Hermione tried to hold him back.

“Boyfriend?” Slughorn mused. “I hope I didn’t offend either of you by not extending my invitation to Mr. Malfoy,”

“Not at all,” I smiled kindly—a false smile, “But I’m afraid that I will have to decline your invitation. I’m a firm believer that we are not our parents, who we know, nor what is expected of us.” I bore down green eyes as I said the words. “And I’m afraid I cannot join a club based on that premise,”

“Fire in this one, eh?” Slughorn chuckled looking to Harry. “As you wish my dear,”

“Professor,” I nodded. “Hermione, Ron... Harry,”

I turned and raced down the hall, after Draco who caught me on the first corner and pressed his lips to mine fiercely, easily pinning me against the wall.

“I bloody love you,” Draco breathed out in between kisses.

His hands trailed down my sides and to my waist as my hands got lost in his hair, dislodging the silky hair from the carefully styled gel. His breath was hot as it mingled with mine, his tongue gaining dominance easily. I held back a soft moan and pulled away, panting.

“Who knew that all I had to do to get you to kiss me like this was snark at Potter?” I drawled, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips.

“Oh, you have no idea the things I want to do to you,” He muttered darkly, pressing his lips to my neck. “But only when you’re safe,”

A small smile found its way to my lips as I pulled him away softly, stroking his cheek. “I love you Draco,” My eyes met crystal blue ones.

“As I love you,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead as we made our way to the Great Hall for dinner.

Later that night, we were lounging together in the Hufflepuff common room—along with Abby and Pansy, but these days we were hardly seen without each other.

“Luna said something in class today,” I mused aloud, pausing from my bowtruckle sketch,

“When doesn’t she?” Draco muttered, reading up on his Potions textbook for tomorrow, I nudged him playfully.

“She said that you and Harry might be more alike than any of us care to admit.”

I heard his quill snap and watched the ink splatter over his paper. I quickly snapped my finger and the Cleaning Spell did its magic.

“What?” He hissed. “Me? Similar to Potter? Are you daft?”

My eyes dropped as I gritted my teeth. Draco seemed to find himself. Taking a deep breath, he reached out, placing his hand on my forearm.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me, I apologize,” His voice was soft and broken. “Please,”

“Never mind,” I whispered. “It’s... it’s nothing.”

“Y/n,” He called softly, tilting my chin so that I was staring into his deep blue eyes. “I’m very sorry I snapped at you. Please tell me?”

Oh, it was not fair that he could do that to me.

“You’re both... forced into roles you don’t want to play—don’t give me that look, I don’t think Harry wants to save the world anymore that you want to...” I shrugged and set down my quill. “I’m sure he just wants to run away too. I can only imagine... he’s lost his parents... Sirius...”

“He’s got Weasley,” Pansy pointed out, butting into our conversation. “And Granger, and always has. Everywhere they go, they shine. ‘The Golden Trio.’ Remember first year? Slytherin had won house cup until those three showed up? Dumbledore had days to award the points, but he had to wait until the Feast.”

Draco and I both flinched at the name. But I remembered that day well, I was so upset on behalf of the Slytherins, because even though at that time I was terrified of most of them, it really wasn’t fair.

“But can we blame Harry for that? I mean stuff sort of just does happen to him,” Abby refuted.

“Stuff happens to everybody,” Pansy snapped back. “Doesn’t give him a free pass to be a prat all the time,”

The two argued at my focus shifted to Draco, who had gone quiet beside me. His gaze let me know that he was lost in thought, in a different world that wasn’t the one around him. I nudged his shoulder and blue eyes found mine.

“Maybe there was something... once.” He admitted. “But...”

“You’ve changed,” I smiled. “Harry is still a git,”

“Are you saying I was a git?” He mocked offense.

“You were the king of the gits,” I teased. “You used to be so mean to me!” I was almost laughing as he blushed and looked down.

“I was mean to everyone,” He chuckled, pulling me into his lap. “Remember you yelled at me? ‘I have every reason to hate you, but I refuse’,” Draco smiled down at me. “You were something else. Sometimes I wonder if you really are a Hufflepuff when you act like such a Gryffindor,”

“Take that back!” I laughed, slapping his chest. “I am not a Gryffindor!”

“I don’t know Feathers,” Abby drawled. “You’ve got to be stupid brave to take on a Malfoy,”

“I’m not the one whose Patronus is a lion,” I refuted looking up to Draco, who burst out laughing.

“Wait!” Pansy nearly screeched. “Your Patronus is a bloody lion!? What the hell are you doing to him Y/n!? Stop contaminating my Slytherin!” She was laughing, nothing behind her threats.

I could feel my face flushing as I hid in Draco’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his body shaking with laughter under me. Something I didn’t know that I missed. It was almost easy, wrapped up in Draco’s arms, laughing with our friends, to forget that we had something much darker lurking underneath.

A week passed as we settled into our classes. Neville had warmed up to me in Herbology and no longer stammered when I tried to talk to him, which was nice. Draco still sulked a bit after double Potions, but it was easy to bring his smile back.

Until Slughorn caught me after meeting with Draco the following Friday.

“My dear Y/n! Just the girl I was hoping to see!” he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly. “I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We’re having a little party, just a few rising stars, I’ve got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin—I don’t know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries—and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Bones will favor me by coming too.”

It was like Draco wasn’t standing right next to me; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.

“Apologies, professor,” I hissed. “But I think I’ve made it clear that I am not interested in your Slug Club. If you’ll excuse us,” My voice dripped acid as I took Draco’s hand and led him down the hall, seething.

“Love, if you want to go to these meetings, don’t let me be the one to stop you,” Draco sounded crestfallen as he pulled me to a stop. “You’re going to go amazing things with your future, don’t... don’t give that up for me,”

I reached up and stroked his cheek softly.

“My future wouldn’t be complete without you in it.” I smiled softly. “And I know I’ve got the shoes and the dresses to be a Malfoy, but I really am happy to settle down, without a sickle in my pocket, if it meant I could have you. Slughorn be damned,”

Draco rolled his eyes and smiled.

__________________________________

He got a letter from his mother that evening and it seemed like whatever defense you had against Harry faded. The Evening Prophet read that the Manor had been searched for Dark Magic and cursed objects because of an “anonymous tip” to Arthur Weasley.

“That Potter!” You snarled, after hearing that Narcissa had been given much trouble about your room at the Manor because of its heavy enchantments. “He has no idea what we’re up against and he thinks he can just accuse who he wants!”

“He’s right though,” Draco sighed softly. “He was right all along to suspect me,”

Your mood softened as you took the paper and letter from his hands, tossing them onto his desk. You didn’t say anything, and perhaps there wasn’t anything to say as you sat beside him on the bed. Again, he wondered where your soft plea for him was to not do this. To stop his trial because it was wrong. It didn’t come, though.

You and Draco found yourselves every Friday night from then on in The Room of Hidden Things, searching for the other vanishing cabinet. After some persuading, he allowed you to fly as Pinnae around the large room as he meandered the mountains of rubbish.

“Draco!” You called, and he ran towards the sound of your voice.

When he caught sight of you, he also caught sight of your target. He almost sagged in relief. He had become disheartened over the past few weeks, and without your gentle reminders that your plan would work, and that you had allotted months to spare in planning and fine tuning, he might have done something rash.

“I don’t see why we can’t just send him a cursed object or something,” He huffed one night, slamming another book closed. “It’s not like it’ll be hard.”

“Draco,” You sighed. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt, on the slight chance that it falls into the wrong hands,”

Your gaze dropped to the table and he was sure that you were finally about to give a spiel about not wanting to do the trial in the first place, and that he should stop attempting, but it didn’t come. What he had to do was wrong and you weren’t refuting it at all. It made him anxious.

Now that everything had been planned out—rather flawlessly between the two of you—it almost seemed surreal to him. Not like Dumbledore had been at the school much anyway. Draco rarely saw him in the Great Hall during meals, and he avoided eye contact at all costs either way.

Draco lounged across his bed—that was more of a nest since you had a habit of finding your way into it most nights—as you came in through the window morphing from Pinnae. In your routine, you slipped off your shoes and grabbed the sweater and sweats he had laid out for you and you went to change in his small bathroom. When you no longer looked a Malfoy, but yourself, you draped over him on the bed.

“So, Hogsmeade tomorrow,” You grinned, excitement in your eyes. “Are you ready?”

“I’m not going,” He didn’t look up from his book, not wanting to see your reaction. Dread settled in his chest at this conversation.

“Why not?” You almost pouted. “We deserve a little fun Dray,”

“You can go,”

“Draco,” You chided, sitting up. “Since when do you not want to go out with me?” The frown and pout of your lip had Draco running a hand through his hair, nervously.

“I can’t go,” He admitted. “I... I have detention,” Draco didn’t dare to meet your eyes.

“Detention?” Your tone held an anxious note. “What...? why? With who?”

He grimaced. “McGonagall. I... I failed two of her quizzes,”

You went quiet for an agonizing half a minute that dragged on forever. After a full minute he looked up at you and deep concentration was written in your features.

“What are you thinking about?” He mused, pulling you into his arms, trying to shove down the ashamed feeling that kept bubbling in his chest.

“Well,” You teetered your head. “How quickly I can get detention before tomorrow,” A small smile found your lips. “And wondering if Hermione would want to tutor you if I asked her...”

“I don’t need a tutor,” He snapped, defensive, but you saw right through his front.

“Alright,” You soothed, rubbing his shoulder. “You know it is okay to struggle in class, right? Talent has to run out somewhere and the skill and practice has to pick up, and if that’s now, that’s perfectly okay.”

His gaze dropped as your words sank in. Was this the tipping point where he couldn’t rely on his pureblood status any longer and would have to work to be good at magic? Something that always came easily to him? The thought scared him more than the thought of failing a quiz or serving detention.

“We don’t have time for me to start to fail now,” His worry left his lips. “I can’t start failing now,”

Your fingers came and cupped his face, stroking his cheek.

“You’re not failing,” The words were soft like the look in your eyes. “McGonagall allows everyone to retake exams and quizzes for full credit and normally her detentions are just one on one time with her so that she can help you,”

“How do you know?” He mumbled miserably.

“Because I was failing in Transfiguration fourth year and she did the same for me.”

“Never told me that,”

You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“Do you want me to ask Hermione if she’ll tutor you? I can ask Luna if you’d prefer.” You asked again, your voice silky soft.

“You could tutor me,”

“And we’d get nothing done because we’d end up snogging all night,” You pointed out with a laugh. “Don’t think I didn’t think about it,”

“So, you think about snogging me all night?” A familiar smirk found his lips.

“I think about a lot of things to do with you at night,” You drawled, just as mischievous. “But...” Sadness replaced the mischief.

“Not until we’re safe,” Draco offered.

“Not even that,” You confessed. “I’ve been reading old papers and rumors and such, and a lot of Death Eaters are skilled in Legilimency, your aunt in particular and the Dark Lord even more so...” A pause. “And I don’t want those moments to belong to anyone but us... and unless you feel like becoming skilled in Occlumency to a degree to defy You-Know-Who in the meantime...”

Draco nodded and pulled you to his chest, rubbing your back softly.

“I love you,” He pressed a kiss to the top of your hair.

“I love you too,” You whispered into his shoulder.

The next morning you took off with a quick kiss, flying back to your dorm before anyone would catch you. He dressed, trudging off to McGonagall’s office, not looking forward to the next few hours at all.

“Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall greeted politely.

“Professor,” He sighed and held his head high, your words comforting him.

It was okay to struggle. He wasn’t failing, he just had to learn. He could do that. He could learn. He could do this... right?

“Now, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall began, “I know that you’ve been doing quite well in class and you’ve been completing your homework in a timely manner. I’m curious as to why you missed out on these quizzes,”

Draco looked down and wished that you were beside him to say the words he never could. You were brave that way, never afraid to admit when you needed help or confess what was wrong.

“As you are aware, I allow all students to make up quizzes for full marks if they can perform the spells and recite the information to me after they have reviewed the information. That is the purpose of these next hours,”

Even though you had told him all of this the night before, there was still a comfort to it coming from the Professor’s mouth. He could do this. He wanted to get better and now he had the whole afternoon and one on one time with McGonagall to get back up to par. As McGonagall began to go over and ask him questions about the spells that had been studied and the methods behind them, he knew almost all of the answers—to both of their surprises, though neither showed it. And when she asked him to transform a kettle into a rabbit, he performed the spell correctly on the first try. McGonagall smiled.

“Draco,” She caught his attention with the use of his first name. “I believe that you are quite skilled in Transfiguration. Consider both of your quizzes to have full marks,”

“But Professor,” He stammered. “I... I don’t understand why I can do it now. And why I couldn’t do it then,”

The smile warmed on the professor’s face, meeting her eyes.

“Some students, Miss Y/n included as I’m sure you’re aware, have testing anxiety. They know all of the information, and can perform quite well, but when faced with the threat of an exam or a grade, they lose focus. It stems from a need of perfectionism, and I assure you, you are not the first Slytherin with the issue.”

Draco nodded.

“Now, I cannot be certain that it is the case with you, I also know that not all students should be measured by what they can write on a piece of paper or recall on a moment notice. You are a gifted wizard Mr. Malfoy, and I do not want you to doubt that, nor do I want you to be confined by a standardized exam.” McGonagall looked over her glasses at him. “If you wish, we can continue these sessions instead of examinations for you, or if you wish, you can attempt my written quizzes again if you feel confident,”

The words sunk into Draco’s mind as he processed what he was being told. He never expected the kind gestured offered to him by McGonagall for a number of reasons and it baffled him. Yet, there was a comfort in it. Maybe he wasn’t failing after all, he just didn’t test well. That was more of a relief than the better quiz grade.

“I think I’d rather do this,” He confessed.

“Very well, every time there is a quiz or exam, you do not have to show to class, but I expect you here the Saturday afterward.”

“Yes Professor,” McGonagall smiled again.

“It’s not too late to head down to Hogsmeade if you so wish Mr. Malfoy, I am done with you for today,” She ordered some papers on her desk. “I’m sure Feathers will be quite happy to get out today,”

He stared at the professor who had a mischievous look in her eye. Gathering his things, he thanked McGonagall again and headed down the hall, where you were more or less patiently waiting.

“Well?” You looked at him expectantly.

“Does McGonagall know about Pinnae?” He asked, distracted and distressed.

“Yes? I thought you knew that. She and Sprout are the ones who helped me,” You took his hand as the two of you walked down the hall. “But that’s beside the point, how did it go?”

“Well, she thinks that I have testing anxiety,” Draco gave. “And that I’m not slipping behind like I thought,”

“That’s great!” You beamed. “Well not the anxiety, I know that sucks, but ya know,” Your smile was contagious as you turned down the hall, towards the dorms.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Uh? The dorms?”

“Did you not want to go to Hogsmeade then?”

Your eyes lit up as you grabbed his hand and all but dragged him down to the small village. Though Hogwarts students milled around the small town, it didn’t hold the same air of magic as it once did. Zonko’s had been boarded up and closed and though most of the other shops were opened, something seemed to be off.

You noticed it, as you clung to his arm, your smile becoming a bit more forced. The sun was hidden by October clouds that threatened to rain any moment. Sensing your distress, Draco quickly ushered you into The Three Broomsticks, where you nearly knocked over Harry.

“Sorry,” You rushed out, offering your hand, even after you realized who you had jostled.

Harry ignored your offer and got up on his own, glaring you down. Draco tucked you to his side, his gaze becoming cold and dangerous.

“Watch where you’re going Y/l/n,” Harry snapped.

“She apologized Harry,” Hermione tugged on Harry’s shoulder. “Now come on, you’re being ridiculous,”

“Me? She’s the one who’s kidding herself,” Harry muttered as he stormed out of the small pub.

___________________________

Hermione gave me an apologetic look, and so did Ron before they followed out after Harry. Draco took a step towards the door, no doubt to go after Harry for a different reason, but I grabbed his hand.

“It’s not worth it,” I murmured.

“Y/n,” He protested. “He can’t just... treat you that way and think that it’s okay,” There was a fire in his eyes.

“He can be wrong, Draco.” I smiled softly. “I know who I am,”

After sulking a moment, Draco gave in and led me to a table in the corner of the small bar, ordering two teas for us. I had a feeling that I just stopped the war from prematurely starting. We had about a moment of peace before there was screaming coming from outside. Both Draco and I rose abruptly, our drinks forgotten, as we hurried outside.

The Golden Trio and another Gryffindor were all standing over a screaming girl who was thrashing about. Draco and I took off running towards then, wands out, ready for anything. Harry rushed off towards the school as we got there.

“What happened?” I demanded.

“I—I don’t know,” The other girl sobbed.

“She’s been cursed,” Draco stooped beside me, his eyes taking in Katie’s writhing form. “Sorry love,” He muttered quickly, and for the moment, I thought the worst before he reached out and snagged my locket from around my neck. I watched as he, with quick and steady hands, placed the necklace around Katie’s neck, who promptly stopped screaming, and it looked as if she was sleeping.

We were all gawking at him when Harry came back with Hagrid.

“You!” Harry threw the accusation. “You did this to her! You slimy little—”

“Harry, he just saved her!” Hermione stood, looking quite dangerous herself. “Now come off this stupid feud!”

“Hagrid, that’s not going to hold long,” Draco spoke urgently, looking at my locket that was draped around the unconscious girl’s neck. “She needs to get to Pomfrey, or Snape.”

Harry looked baffled as Hagrid lifted Katie into his arms and rushed off towards the castle. Hermione hurried over to Katie’s wailing friend and put an arm around her.

“It’s Leanne, isn’t it?” She asked softly. The girl nodded.

“Did it just happen all of a sudden, or—?”

“It was when that package tore,” sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but Harry seized his arm and pulled him back.

“Don’t touch it!” Harry, Draco, and I all shouted.

Harry crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

“I’ve seen that before,” Draco bent down beside Harry their opposition momentarily forgotten, staring at the thing. “It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it.” He looked up at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. “How did Katie get hold of this?”

“Well, that’s why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it... Oh no, oh no, I bet she’d been Imperiused and I didn’t realize!”

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently. I shrugged off my cloak and draped it around the crying girl’s shoulders, holding her with Hermione.

“She didn’t say who’d given it to her, Leanne?” Harry asked.

“No... she wouldn’t tell me... and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn’t listen and... and then I tried to grab it from her...and — and —” Leanne let out a wail of despair.

“It’s alright sweetheart,” I soothed softly, rubbing her arm. “She’s going to be okay,”

“We’d better get up to school,” said Hermione, her arm still around Leanne. “We’ll be able to find out how she is. Come on...”

My eyes met Draco’s and he nodded, standing, coming to my side. There were thousands of questions in my eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and draped his own cloak around me, the biting wind whipping around us. I wanted to protest. I wasn’t cold, but I knew Draco would be.

Harry hesitated for a moment, watching our interaction, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron’s gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

“We’ll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey,” he said.

Harry and Ron trailed behind Hermione and Leanne, the two whispering in harsh tones to each other. Draco held out his hand and I took it, following.

“I—I’m uh, sorry, about not telling you about your locket,” Draco fumbled out, as if I were going to yell at him.

“You’re apologizing to me for giving me a locket that has been protecting me all this time?” I laughed and looked up at him. “Come on Dray, that was the sweetest thing I think you’ve ever done,”

There was a blush on his cheeks as he smiled at the ground. As we entered the castle grounds it seems that whatever Ron and Harry were arguing about had become very heated. I heard both of our names brought up as Harry stole glances at us. My gaze dropped and Draco held me closer.

“McGonagall!” said Ron warningly, and we all looked up.

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them.

“Hagrid says you six saw what happened to Katie Bell—upstairs to my office at once, please! What’s that you’re holding, Potter?”

“It’s the thing she touched,” said Harry.

“Good lord,” said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Harry. “No, no, Filch, they’re with me!” she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. “Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!”

We followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face to face us all. Leanne was still sobbing in Hermione’s arms.

“Well?” she said sharply. “What happened?”

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting another word out of her.

“All right,” said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, “go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock.”

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to us. “What happened when Katie touched the necklace?”

“She rose up in the air,” said Harry, before either Ron or Hermione could speak, “and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Dumbledore, please?”

Draco gripped my hand a little tighter at the mention of his name. I leaned against him comfortingly.

“The headmaster is away until Monday, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.

“Away?” Harry repeated angrily.

“Yes, Potter, away!” said Professor McGonagall tartly. “But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I’m sure!”

There was a standoff between Harry and McGonagall that had me averting my eyes at the sheer determination between the both of them. Harry gave in and scoffed, crossing his arms rather childishly. McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“And then I assume that you two arrived?” McGonagall turned to Draco and I.

“Yes,” Draco answered coolly. “We were in the Three Broomsticks and heard the screaming.”

“Did you two happen to see who gave Ms. Bell the package?”

“No ma’am,” I replied. “We were preoccupied with Harry,” My voice was calm and slightly accusatory. “Katie had left before we entered.”

“And I hear that you held a very powerful talisman Miss Y/n,” McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “Can I ask where you might have gotten such an artifact?”

“It was a gift,” I clarified. “From Draco,”

Harry scoffed again, but I paid him no mind.

“And where did you get your hands on such a thing Mr. Malfoy?”

“It’s my own creation, Professor,” Draco’s cheeks were slightly pink at the awe and surprise that flitted across the faces in the room. Even Harry seem to sulk slightly less.

“I see,” McGonagall nodded. “Well, I can’t say for sure, but I do believe that you and Miss Y/n may have just saved Miss Bell’s life. And for that I award you each with fifty house points.”

“Professor, you don’t have to,” I protested. “A life is more valuable than house points,”

“Even so,” The professor smiled softly. “We will not forget what you have done,”

We both nodded and Hermione was smiling, and Ron wasn’t glaring at us, so I counted that as a semi-win. Harry still had his eyes narrowed at the two of us and I really wanted to confront him about what he was thinking, but McGonagall swept out of her office and toward the Hospital wing.

The tension grew between the five of us.

“Well?” I raised my eyebrow at Harry. “Let’s have it.”

“Love,” Draco chided.

“No,” I retorted. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of acting like it’s okay for Harry to treat you like this. You probably did just save Katie’s life and had nothing to do with this and I’m really sure that Harry is still trying to find a way to blame you,” I turned to Harry. “Aren’t you?”

Harry looked down, his cheeks going slightly red.

“And at this point I really don’t give a damn about who might be the Chosen One or who might be a Death Eater!” Both boys flinched. “There is a war coming, for all of us! And I don’t care how much you might hate each other or me! If we don’t do this together, we’re all going to die! And if you would stop acting so childish for thirty seconds maybe you could see that!”

I grabbed Draco’s hand before anyone could respond and dragged him out into the hall. There was an air of sadness in his eyes as he pulled me into a quiet corner. He rested on a windowsill. holding my waist to stop me from pacing.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly, leaning against him. “None of that was directed at you,”

He nodded, still not saying a word.

“I really am sorry,” I tried again.

“Will you stop apologizing,” He smiled up at me. “You said what needed to be said, although I do wish you hadn’t yelled about Death Eaters,”

“Sorry?” I offered, for a third time.

“All is forgiven,” He smiled.

A quiet moment dragged between us.

“When did everything become so complicated?” I sighed, sitting in his lap as he wrapped his arms around me, keeping me balanced. The sleet assaulting the window behind us seemed to mock us both with its fury, but for the moment, we were safe from its danger.

We eventually drifted back to the Slytherin common room to escape the onslaught of the rain pounding the windows. Draco still had a knack for keeping me from foul weather.

I thought maybe the storm of the day had passed, until Snape swished into the Common Room requesting an audience with us both in his office promptly. Draco and I shared a look and followed the professor.

There was a familiarity about sitting in the professor’s gloomy office, holding Draco’s hand.

“McGonagall has informed me of your escapade today,” His voice sounded disinterested, but his eyes held a vote of urgency.

“Professor,” Draco began, only to be silenced by the raising of Snape’s hand.

“Neither of you are in trouble. But I must warn you to be more careful. Harry is very quick to accuse and has half of the world hanging onto his words. You two must be more cautious about what situations you find yourselves in if you wish to succeed.”

Snape spoke as if he knew what Draco and I were trying to accomplish, and maybe he did. Anxiety grew in my chest at that thought because with the more people who did know, there was a greater chance that something went wrong and there were too many variables at play. But if Snape did know, then he was very good about acting ignorant.

“And I believe these belong to you Miss Y/n,” Snape grabbed a bundle of silver from under his desk, and on top resided my necklace. “Well done with making quick use of the locket Mr. Malfoy. I have restored it to its original state.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, taking the objects and slipping my locket back on the weight comforting me.

“You are free to go,” He leaned back in his chair. “And do take care, he does not tolerate excuses,”

Our gaze fixed on the professor, gaping at him.

“Potter,” There was a sly smile on Snape’s lips as he lied easily. “Now off with you,”

It wasn’t until we were behind Draco’s locked dorm door that either of us said a word.

“Snape knows,” I breathed out, watching Draco pace the small room. My lethargic mood contrasted starkly against Draco’s.

“Who does he think he is!?” Draco seethed. “We’ve been doing just fine on our own! Now he acts like he cares!?”

“Draco, love,” I tried, only to get a cold look.

“No,” He said firmly. “We have been careful! I have been careful! Snape probably thinks that I sent the bloody necklace! He thinks of me as an ignorant child!”

He scattered the books off his desk. They landed with a crash to the floor. I pursed my lips and waited; my back pressed against his door. Draco stood at the windowsill, facing out, his hands clenched, white skin stretched over smooth bone as they rested against the chilled stone. I counted to sixty then took a careful step forward. A step towards him. With silent movements, I approached him, a gentle hand resting on his shaking shoulders. I could hear the muffled cries that tumbled from his lips. It had been a few weeks since his last panic attack. I hated to say that I awaited it. It had only been a matter of time.

I became his shadow, resting my chin on his shoulder and curling my arms around him, locking my fingers together. My breaths became deliberate, deep. It took a long while, but his shaking soothed and his breathing began to mimic mine. I reached down and smoothed out his fists, his fingers splaying out under mine. He turned, his eyes not meeting mine. I reached up and brushed the remaining tears on his face and began to unbutton his shirt, letting it fall from his shoulders.

It was a routine; he knew what was coming when I started to undress him. It wasn’t about sexual desire or want, but survival and comfort. That he could be completely bare before me—metaphorically and physically—and I still would never take advantage of him.

He allowed me to lead him into the small bathroom and start a warm shower. His hands came to my waist, pulling me back into his chest, his nose nestling into my hair. The warm water washed the chill and fear from our skin. Draco sat on the small counter, towels around us both, as I gently worked the white balm into his Mark, as I did every night before. I pressed a soft simple kiss to his lips, stroking his cheek. Still a word was not shared between us.

Curled up and surrounded by blankets and pillows, Draco’s eyes drifted closed.

“I didn’t do it,” He murmured softly—brokenly. “I didn’t send the necklace,”

“I know,” I ran a hand through his damp hair. “I know, my love.”

“I—I wouldn’t...” He stammered. “It... it was sloppy... I—I can’t risk your life by making—making a mistake like that,” There were tears in his eyes again.

I nodded and held him tighter, fighting back my own tears.

“I just need you to live,” He sniffed. “Whatever happens I need you to live,”

“Draco,” My voice broke as I tilted his chin up. His blue eyes held a hopeless brokenness to them. “I need you to live too. I can’t live without you. I wouldn’t make it,” I squeezed my eyes shut. “You claim that I’m pure, that I’m good, but Draco without you, I wouldn’t have a reason strong enough to keep fighting to stay that way,”

His hands came up and tangled themselves in my hair as he pressed his forehead to mine, our faces inches apart as we both cried, believing that the other was worth more that the life it had saved in that moment.

________________________________

When October turned to November and rain turned to snow, Draco had fallen back into a routine with you. Survive the week, eat meals with you, smile just enough, then curl up with you at night and feel free from the world around him. Draco couldn’t deny because of this year at Hogwarts a bitterness grew in his heart towards the school. Almost everything that he had loved about Hogwarts had been lost to him. He had given up being a prefect, and Quidditch. Potions was no longer fun because of Slughorn, who really had it out for him. Harry was almost impossible to deal with and though he rarely spoke a word to Draco in class, he could feel the accusations being hurled at him from the Gryffindor in his mind.

The only comfort, that led to deeper guilt, was that he and you were making a lot of progress with the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Hidden Things. It was a slow process that required heavy Dark Magic, but between the two of you, it was getting done. A comfort came as well, when Pansy and Abby came to you two, demanding that—though they knew that you couldn’t say what was going on—they wanted to help whenever and however they could. That meant the couple could patrol the halls while he and you worked on the cabinet, having a perfect cover as prefects.

You still amazed him, however. Despite everything, you were still working to unite at least the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs, and with the help of your (and his) friends it seemed to work.

Slytherin hostility had been almost non-existent against the Hufflepuffs, and some Ravenclaws. Something else was to be said about the Gryffindors, but Draco figured there were some things that would never change. To be fair, if you had come to him, when he was a first or second year and told him to knock off the teasing and rude comments to other students, he would have listened, because you were downright terrifying sometimes. A perfect mix of beautiful and dangerous.

“I know you don’t really like him,” You began one night as you both sat under the stars of the Astronomy Tower. “But Slughorn invited me to his Christmas party. Abby and Pansy are going... and I’m allowed to bring someone...”

“Slughorn?” Draco mused, fiddling with a strand of your hair. “I thought you didn’t want to be a part of his little club?”

“And I don’t,” You reaffirmed, shifting so that you were facing him. “But it might be a bit of fun?”

“That’s what you said about Hogsmeade,” He pointed out, enjoying that you were annoyed more than he should.

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“Well fine, then we won’t go,” You snapped, crossing your arms, dislodging your hand from his.

A smile played at his lips as he pulled you into his lap.

“If you want to go to Slughorn’s little party and take me with you, I’ll go,” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “And I’ll even behave,”

You snorted.

“And if Harry is there?” You raised an eyebrow, the beautiful smile back on your face.

“I seem to remember that you were the one who went off on him last,” Draco teased, smirking. “And I can handle Potter, easily,”

“Okay,” Your smile grew more genuine. “Then we’ll go,”

With Slughorn’s party came the promise of the end of the semester and home. You had put your foot down a few weeks ago that you and he were done working on the vanishing cabinet for the semester, even though it was almost finished.

“And we deserve a few Friday nights to ourselves and to our friends,” You had pointed out.

So, with the end of term, came this stupid party. Draco didn’t want to go in the slightest, after having Slughorn all semester, he was in no rush to spend more time with the man who fawned over precious Potter. But it made you smile, so he’d endure.

“Damn,” Pansy mutter from his side when she caught sight of you—dressed in the new robes you had gotten over the summer and look absolutely perfect in them. “And you’re sure you two are opened for a fun night with Abby and I?” Her question was all but innocent.

“Pansy, please,” Draco dismayed, growing rather warm.

“Just saying’ Malfoy. I love Abby but damn your girl has got it,” Pansy grinned. “Half the school talks about her, boys and girls.” There as a wicked look in her eyes, that made Draco very possessive.

You noticed when you met him at the bottom of the stairs, a questioning look in your eyes.

“Nothing,” He offered a smile. “Just Pansy,”

“Nothing my ass,” Pansy snarked. “Draco he’s a little jealous that half the school wants to shag you,”

You mouth popped open in surprise as Draco hissed at Pansy, who was laughing along with Abby. You turned a deep shade of red, almost matching the crimson on your lips.

“Oh, don’t tell me that you don’t know!” Pansy feigned dismay. “Seriously, what do you two do all day?”

You and Draco fumbled for answers as Pansy shook her head, pulling Abby down the hall as you two followed meekly.

“You do look lovely tonight,” Draco stammered.

“Thank you,” You sounded just as embarrassed.

There was a crowd around Slughorn’s office—students who hadn’t been invited, and if it weren’t for you, he’d be a part of that crowd.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn’s office was much larger than the usual teacher’s study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.

“I do wish they wouldn’t use house-elves like this,” Your lips pressed into a tight line.

“It’s their job, love,” Draco cooed softly, to appease you.

“I doubt they’re getting paid,” You muttered back.

“Miss Y/n! I am so glad to see you here after all those diligent invitations. I knew I could wear you down,” Slughorn grinned, giving Draco an uneasy feeling and he began to wonder if you truly wanted to be here, or if you had just said yes to stop the constant harassment from the professor.

“Delighted professor,” Your forced smiled let him know that it might be the latter.

Of course, you wouldn’t want to come. How had he missed that? You hated parties and loud places and tons of people. Draco was starting to feel very stupid for not thinking about this for more than a few moments. He almost wanted to leave now.

As soon as Harry walked through the door, Slughorn’s attention was off you and Draco was actually grateful because he could see your demeanor crumbling. He ushered you off to the quieter outskirts of the party.

“Do you want to go?” Draco asked in a hushed tone. “We made an appearance, we can leave now,”

“Look I know you don’t like Harry but—”

“Forget about me,” He snapped. “You don’t want to be here, do you? I’m so sorry I didn’t think about it,”

You look softened and your mask fell for a moment.

“I... It’s not so bad,” You decided, looking around. “And I know you want to be here,”

“I thought I said forget about me,” Draco tilted your chin up. “Right now, I want to know what you want to do,”

Your eyes scanned the crowd as you bit your lip. If it had been any other situation, he would have simply gone mad with how you looked right now including your lip worrying, but there were more pressing matters.

“I’m okay,” You decided, smiling—a real smile. “I... It’s not as bad as it used to be,” You admitted.

Draco studied you a moment more, then nodded, leading you back out into the fray. It came to a point that Hermione bumped into him. He caught her arm before she could fall completely and you turned, seeing that the commotion was.

“Oh, Hermione,” You smiled. “You look lovely,”

“So, do you, goodness Y/n, those are very nice robes,” Hermione gaped a moment before remembering herself. “If you’ll excuse me,”

“Wait,” You grabbed her hand. “I heard you were going out with McLaggen, whatever happened to Ron?”

“He’s with Lavender,” She said stiffly. “Now please, I have to go before he finds me again,” She said distressed.

“Granger likes Weasley?” Draco mused.

“They have first names,” You chided softly. “And I think they do like each other, they’re just not too sure of how to show it,” You shrugged. “Nothing for me to fret about.” Your smile returned.

After a while, Draco fell into his normal schmoozing routine that he was accustomed to, and now you were as well. Even though he held a powerful family name, all eyes were on you tonight. It reminded him of one of those fairytales you had read to him... Cinderella maybe? He’d have to ask you later. And though Draco wanted to sulk that you were getting more attention than him, like he would have years ago, something felt right about this. You were an amazing witch with— apparently—a well-known father and skills beyond your grade level. You deserved to be praised, after everything you had accomplished, he was proud of you too.

“Oh, Draco.” An airy voice caught his attention. “Y/n mentioned coming here tonight. I never thought she would though,” He turned to see Luna Lovegood staring at him. “She doesn’t like Slughorn much, though I suppose she could just be defending you.”

“Luna,” He greeted softly, drawing your attention as well.

“Luna!” You said excitedly, drawing the other witch into a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Harry invited me. We came as friends.” Luna lit up as the words fell from her mouth.

“And Neville is okay with that?” You stopped short—Draco wondered how you seemed to know all of the relationship gossip in the school.

“I don’t think he knows. Harry only just asked me today,” Luna looked off into the distance. “Would he be upset?”

“Luna, the poor guy's head over heels for you,” You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully. “I think you should go talk to him when this madness is done,”

“Suppose you’re right. You always know just what to say Y/n. A fine Hufflepuff,” Luna smiled and hugged you once more, before heading off into the part goers.

“Do you just know everyone?” Draco teased lightly.

“Luna and I have class together,” You refuted. “And she’s a sweetheart, both her and Neville.”

“Such a Hufflepuff,” He grinned, ducking away from the jab he knew was coming at him.

“Better than Slytherin,” You snapped playfully.

“What’s better than a Slytherin?”

Pansy and Abby strolled up, along with Blaise and Greg, both couples looking quite cozy. Greg, for the first time since Draco had known him, looked rather cleaned up and poised next to Blaise—who always looked flawless—confident on his own rather than following orders.

“Pretty much anything,” Abby snickered.

“You’ll pay for that Bones,” Pansy hissed, sending a sharp teasing look towards her lover.

“I can’t say that I share your sentiment either, Miss Bones,”

Draco felt you tense as Slughorn join the group of friends, pressing further into his side. He held you close.

“Slytherin is a fine house. Filled with many rising stars, like Mr. Zabini here,” The round professor nodded to Blaise who was lost in a goblet of mead, looking like he didn’t particularly want to be the center of attention at this moment.

Draco caught the cold look that fell upon your face, and he had to admit that Pansy was right: you were dangerously stunning and if the world wasn’t going to hell in a handbasket, he’d preferably make sure that you and everyone else in the school know that he was the only one with the privilege to shag you.

“I think it’s time we go, Draco,” Your voice dripped ice daggers.

“Oh, my dear, don’t leave. It is Christmas after all, the more the merrier,” Slughorn slurred, not reading the discomfort among the group.

“There’s better company to keep,” You smiled sweetly.

You shared a look with Abby, who looked about to murder, same as you. He wondered what you had told Abby about Slughorn, and what in turn she had told you. Gauging the intensity of the look, it couldn’t be anything pleasant.

“Come on Pans,” Abby muttered. “Y/n’s right. Just a bunch of brown nosers with no talent,”

“And to think I expected more from you two,” Slughorn gripped.

“Shame,” You drawled. “The feeling is mutual. But don’t worry professor, I’m sure your precious Potter would love to entertain you,”

Draco couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips, Blaise and Greg joining.

“Merlin, Draco you really are rubbing off on her,” Blaise chuckled. “You’re one kickass Hufflepuff, Y/l/n,” He raised his glass towards you and disappeared into the crowd, pulling Greg with him.

He watched you and Abby share a short conversation in sign language before Abby took Pansy’s hand and lead her towards the exit. Draco followed their lead, trying to, as politely as possible, avoid the party goers who wanted to strike up a conversation.

“I can’t believe I actually went to that,” You muttered out in the hallway, using his arm as a support to take off your stilettos. “I can’t believe you didn’t talk me out of it,”

“I did try,” Draco smiled softly, taking your shoes from you, taking your hand. “And it wasn’t so bad,” He tried.

You thought a moment.

“I guess not. I did get to see you look quite dashing tonight. Almost makes up for not going to the Yule Ball fourth year,” The smile returned to your lips.

“I do recall inviting you to a Ball that summer,” Draco mused.

“Ah, yes. When you told me I wasn’t your type,” You grinned with a laugh.

“And I was so close to being free of that taunt,” Draco feigned dismay as he smiled down at you. “But I’ll admit it, I was wrong. You are exactly my type,”

You gasped mockingly, a hand coming dramatically over your heart.

“Did Draco Malfoy just admit that he was wrong?”

“Oh hush,” He rolled his eyes, thinking maybe the party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Epilogue:

“It is Christmas,” I murmured softly. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

“Y/n,” Draco stressed, coming up behind me, leaning against the desk I was sitting at.

“I know, I know. What she did was awful, and I wish I didn’t have to decide, but...” I sighed and leaned back in the chair, tilting my head back so that I could meet his eyes.

“It’s Christmas,” Draco sighed pressing a kiss to my forehead. “And you’re nothing if not forgiving,”

“Worked out for you didn’t it?” I smiled.

“Yes dear,” He chuckled. “I’ll go tell my mother that we should expect yours for dinner then.” He paused. “Actually, why don’t you do that? She’s not going to yell at you,”

I laughed and spun around in the desk chair.

“Afraid of your mother, are you?” I baited.

“Respect,” He clarified. “And she’s been a bit... since father has been gone,” I nodded and sighed, turning back to the written letter on the desk and sent it off via owl. “We’ll go tell her together then,” I stood, taking his hand.

Chapter 8

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bee-kathony · 5 years

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The Oath | Ch. 30 “The End”

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! This story means so much to me and I can't believe it's over. I have loved telling it and have loved every single comment over the last several months. It's been such a joy to write and I'm so sad that it's over, but I have other things I want to write. It's pretty open ended, so you never know...... ;)

Arc I | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 | Ch. 19 | Ch. 20 | Ch. 21 | Ch. 22 | Ch. 23 | Ch. 24 | Ch. 25 | Ch. 26 | Ch. 27 | Ch. 28 | Ch. 29

2 years later… August 3rd, 2022

Claire rushed through the door, setting her keys and umbrella down on the front table. It had been raining for a week straight with no end in sight — everything was wet, and Claire was growing tired of her hair being an unmanageable mess.

“I’m home!” She shouted to the house and then a moment later, two high pitched shrieks came from the other room.

Madeline came running towards her, hands outstretched and Claire caught her, twirling her in the air. The little girl laughed and threw her head back, her red pigtails flying behind her. As Claire set her back down, Julietta came stumbling around the corner.

A month after their honeymoon in Greece, two years ago, Claire had realized one morning that her period was late. Eight months later… enter Julietta.

“Are ye absolutely sure that the two wee pink lines means yer pregnant, Sassenach?” Jamie asked Claire as he picked up the home pregnancy box to read the direction once again.

“Yes, I am,” Claire repeated. “It’s the same brand as the last time, and it’s showing the same pink lines.” She peered over into his hands as he held the stick, her heart hammering. They both hadn’t expected to conceive so soon; they wanted to wait until Madeline was at least two years old. But life had other plans it seemed.

“When ye go into work tomorrow, I’ll come wi’ ye,” Jamie said, placing the stick down on the counter. “Then ye can have another test done just to confirm, aye?”

“Sounds good,” Claire smiled and wrapped her hands around his neck, leaning up to place a kiss on his lips. “So, this is good news right?”

Jamie’s face twisted with confusion as he looked down at her, and then he pushed a few curls behind her ear, his other hand resting on her hip. “Of course it’s good news, mo chridhe. Tis the best news I could ever get! I ken that we planned on somethin’ different, but we’ve never been verra good at planning these sorts of things.”

Claire snorted and buried her head against his chest, momentarily listening to the sound of his erratic beating heart.

“Are you scared at all? To have another child?” She asked, saying all of this to his chest.

“I wouldna say scared, Sassenach,” Jamie stroked her head lightly, calming her. “But I’m nervous, aye. Worrit that I’ll no be good at givin’ my attention to two bairns and to ye, to balance it all. But mostly,” he looked down and placed his hand under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “I’m happy. That this time, I get to be there from the beginning, to feel every kick and to hold yer hair when ye have morning sickness.”

Tears sprang to Claire’s eyes as she thought back to her first pregnancy and how the first five months she had done it alone — by choice of course, but alone nonetheless. Now, she would have Jamie with her every step of the way.

“I dinna begrudge ye for no’ havin’ me there the first time, but Christ,” he grinned, lifting her slightly in the air. “I’m sae happy! Ye are so beautiful, Claire when yer wi’ child, and to ken that Madeline will soon have a wee brother or sister…” he trailed off, thinking of the future.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” Claire smiled and ran her thumb over his cheek. “And I’m glad that you get to be here from the beginning too, Jamie. I wanted to tell you so badly when I found out last time.”

Jamie kissed her, and rested his forehead against hers. “It was bound to happen,” he chuckled, a deep hum in his chest. “We must’ve had sex near on thirty times when we were in Greece.”

Claire playfully hit his chest, laughing. “You were the one that wanted a nice round number.”

“What can I say?” He slid his hands down over her arse, squeezing firmly to lift her legs around his waist. “I love my wife verra much.”

On March 17th, 2021, Julietta Elena Fraser came into the world. They had decided to wait until the child was born to find out the sex, and were delightfully surprised to welcome another girl.

The first few months were the hardest — adjusting to life with two small children. Julietta needed so much attention, and Madeline was hitting milestone after milestone. Learning to walk, beginning to say her first real words that weren’t gibberish. At times, Jamie and Claire felt they were stretched in too many directions, but at night when both children were asleep, and they could find solace in each other’s arms, they knew it was all worth it.

“Hello my sweetie,” Claire bent down to hug Julietta as she fell into her arms. At seventeen months, she was eager to always be on her feet which caused only a slight headache for Jamie and Claire. “Mummy missed you and your sister while she was gone today, did you have fun with daddy?”

Julietta nodded, placing her hand on Claire’s cheek and then Madeline was tugging on Claire’s arm. Holding Julietta’s hand, Claire walked with her daughters into the kitchen where Jamie was laying the table with the most delicious smelling pasta carbonara.

“Hello, Sassenach,” Jamie’s face lit up at the sight of his girls. “We’re glad that yer home.”

“Go and play with your sister until dinner, little miss,” Claire instructed Mads who led her younger sister over into the den where all their toys were strewn around the carpet.

Walking around the counter, Claire sighed and laid her head against Jamie’s chest. “Hi,” she said said softly and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of her solid husband beneath her.

“Are ye alright?” He asked, setting aside his spoon to wrap his arms around her.

“I’m better than I thought I would be,” Claire replied.

“I still think ye should’ve let me come wi’ ye to see him,” Jamie said, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I hate that ye had to face him alone.”

One arm tightened around her, and Claire nodded. “I wish you were there too, but I know I needed to do this on my own. It was important to say what I did and put it all behind me.”

“So how did he look?” Jamie asked, glancing down at Claire.

“He’s seen better days,” Claire shrugged. “Frank’s in prison, has been for over two years now — he looks bloody awful.”

“Now I really wish I came wi’ ye,” Jamie said and Claire smirked, hitting his side lightly with her hand. “But yer okay, really?”

“Yeah,” Claire said. “I think I’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.”

It had been Jamie’s idea for Clare to visit Frank while he was in prison. The conversation came up almost a year ago, and Claire was hesitant at first, but came around to the idea. It was only now, five months before his release that she finally felt that she could face him.

Claire had never been inside a prison before, and she didn’t have any idea what to expect. She was led through security, where she had to check her phone and other personal belongings at the front desk. Then a security guard took her to the visitors room where she waited to see him.

A few minutes later, a buzzer sounded and a door across the room opened. Prisoners dressed in orange jumpsuits filed in one by one. Some looked completely normal while others gave Claire chills. She knew she would be safe though — prisoners weren’t allowed in the visitors room unless they had been cleared.

Finally, she saw him. Frank.

What once was a handsome, fine chiseled face was now haggard and worn. When he saw her, he smiled. Not the same chilling smile he had given her at the courthouse, but one of an old friend.

“Hello, Claire,” he said as he approached her. “It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“Don’t get many visitors?” Claire asked, watching him as he sat down across the table from her.

He shrugged, and Claire noticed he looked thinner, but life inside four walls day after day with strict food regulations would do that to a person.

“Alex comes to visit me once a month, and my mother and father have come up a few times over the years,” he said.

“That’s good that they came,” Claire said, suddenly feeling like this was a mistake.

“I must ask,” Frank said. “Just why are you here, Claire? I ruined your life, surely you wouldn’t want to ever see me again?”

“You attempted to ruin my life,” Claire corrected. “You didn’t, however.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Frank said and he sounded sincere.

There was no point in wasting time, Claire only was allowed to see him for ten minutes. Last night she’d been wracking her brain trying to think of what to say to him. Her first emotion was anger and betrayal. Followed by hurt and then more anger. She told herself that the first thing she would do when she saw him was slap him straight across the face, but that thought had left her mind the moment she saw the state he was in.

“I hated you,” she said and he looked up at her, meeting her eyes. “For a very long time, I hated you for what you tried to do. For causing my family so much trouble and heartache. It wasn’t right, Frank, it wasn’t,” she shook her head. “And I never understood why you would want another man’s daughter so badly to lie like that. It still doesn’t make sense.”

“You want answers,” Frank said, nodding. He had been a professor, a good one at that, and Claire had loved sitting in on his lectures, watching as he commanded the room. Now he sat before her, small and weak and that man she once knew was long gone, replaced by a man that had lost himself.

“I do,” she said.

“Honestly, Claire, I couldn’t begin to tell you why I did the things I did back then,” he hung his head, looking at his hands on the table. “It was a cowardly thing to do and I realize that now — I didn’t at the time. When you left me,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “I realized how badly I needed you in my life, and I went mad with trying to think of a way to win you back. No woman I had after you compared to you, Claire Beauchamp.”

“Fraser,” she corrected, making sure her left hand with her ring was on display.

“That’s right,” he swallowed as he caught sight of Jamie’s mother’s ring. “What I did was foolish and I understand how wrong I was. I know that you can never forgive me for what I did, Claire.”

Forgiveness. It was such a lovely sounding word, but in reality it was one of the hardest to put into practice. For so long, Claire had felt nothing but bitterness towards the man she once thought she loved. He had ripped her world apart and together with Jamie, they had mended it and made it into something even better. Could she forgive the man that had caused her so much pain?

As Claire looked at him, really looked at Frank, she realized that she only felt peace. Of course she could forgive him and she already had.

“I do forgive you, Frank,” she said and he looked shocked at this. “I forgive you and I want you to make a good life for yourself once you get out of here. I truly hope that you’ve learned from your mistakes and that you don’t inflict that kind of pain onto someone else.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he agreed.

“Don’t promise,” Claire said and reached for something in her purse. “You might break your promise, but learn from this, from all of this and try and become someone good.”

With a shaky breath, Claire slid a picture of her family across the table. Frank looked down and picked it up, his eyes scanning the image. It was one of their most recent family pictures, taken at a carnival held in the nearby town last month. Julietta had fallen asleep in Jamie’s arms after one ride, and Madeline had eaten too much popcorn and gotten sick on the car ride home.

“That’s Madeline, she’s almost three. Clearly she takes after Jamie, where Julietta our youngest has dark hair like me,” Claire said, studying Frank’s facial expression.

“Anyone that sees her would know she’s his,” he said softly. “How foolish I was.”

After staring at the picture for another minute, Frank slid the picture back to Claire and she tucked it safely into her purse.

“I came here for me,” Claire said. “For Jamie, Madeline and Julietta. So that their mother and wife could be free from you. I forgive you, and I know that this will be the last time we speak.”

“Thank you for seeing me,” he said and the guards were already coming around to tell them their time was up. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. Your family… they’re beautiful and I’m glad that I didn’t mess it up too terribly.”

“Goodbye, Frank,” Claire smiled sadly and then left, not pausing or taking a look back at him. She had said her peace and her heart felt lighter in the process. Gathering her things from the front desk, Claire climbed into her car and made her way home to her family for dinner.

++++++

Later that evening, Claire brought the girls up for bath time. They had tried bathing them separately, but one time when Jamie was giving Julietta her bath, Madeline had gotten jealous and climbed in to join, clothes and all. Since then, it was a joint bath and everyone was happier.

“What did you ladies get up to while you were with daddy today?” Claire asked Madeline as she massaged shampoo into her curly red hair.

“Coloured pictures,” Madeline smiled. “Ate sammiches and a moooovie,” she said the “o” like a cow and Claire laughed.

“A rather fun day,” Claire grinned. “Close your eyes and hold your breath!” Picking up a small cup, Claire scooped up water and poured it over the top of her daughter’s head. The little girl shook her head, splashing water around the bath and onto Claire.

“Watch it, little miss,” Claire laughed and splashed a bit of water back. “Or I’ll have to get daddy to come in and pour a big bucket of water over your head! He would lift it high and splash!”

“No!” Madeline giggled and covered her face with her hands.

Moving on to wash Julietta’s small bit of dark hair, Madeline began to play with a small rubber ducky. It had been a gift Jamie had gotten her on her first birthday and every birthday and Christmas since, he had added another to her collection. She had given each a name — Mr. Quacks, Lucy, Blue, Wiggles and Ducky.

When Claire was pregnant with Julietta, Madeline had been so excited. Once they told her she would have a new baby brother or sister, she would kiss Claire’s stomach goodnight and make sure to say hello to it every morning. And when Julietta was born, she wouldn’t leave her side, always asking to hold her or help feed her. She took her job of being a big sister very seriously.

Once both little girls were scrubbed and squeaky clean, Claire called Jamie over from the other room to come and help dry them off.

“Which one shall I take?” Jamie said, and Madeline raised her small hand, flailing it in her air.

“Me, Da!” She squealed.

Grabbing a big pink towel, he picked her up and wrapped her like a cocoon, and held her close to him. He loved his daughters dearly, and being a father was one of the greatest things that had ever happened to him.

“You next wee fish,” Claire lifted Julietta out of the bath and wrapped her in the towel, drying her off.

“Read a story?” Madeline asked as Jamie wiped her face with the corner of the towel.

“Aye, I’ll read ye a story. Any of yer choosin’,” he smiled.

Jamie and Claire carried both girls into their shared room to get dressed in pajamas. After Julietta turned one, they had moved her into Madeline’s room. Claire could just see it now when they were a little bit older — the late night giggles she would hear, the dress up parties, all the fun they would have.

Claire always wanted a sister growing up, and she was happy that her daughters had that companion in each other now.

Both girls were tucked in their beds and Jamie opened the book that Madeline had chosen. Not surprisingly, it was the one that Jamie had written for her and had finally had published. Since then, he’d been working on another story, but this time not a children’s novel. It was a story of a man and a woman and he told Claire that she might recognize a few similarities here and there.

Meanwhile, Claire spent her days at the hospital. She longed to be home and to be there for her girls, but her other passion was medicine. It was a part of her she knew she couldn’t abandon, a skill that ran through her very bones. And it was rewarding to help people and be there for them. Just as it was rewarding to come home to her children and to a husband she loved.

Life was far from perfect, but it was the life she loved.

Stepping out of the room to get herself ready for bed, Claire smiled as she saw her two girls paying close attention to every word from Jamie. He was the perfect father to two young girls. Always telling them how beautiful, kind, smart and strong they were. Claire knew that Jamie would love a son, and who knows? Maybe one day.

Stripping off her clothes, Claire grabbed one of Jamie’s old shirts and slid it on, loving the way it hung off one shoulder. As she began to wash her face and cleanse herself from the day she had, her mind drifted back to her earlier conversation with Frank.

She never thought she would be able to face him again, let alone speak to him. But it was needed to move on, something she thought she had done years ago. Frank was like a ghost, creeping up at the most unexpected times. Often, she woke from nightmares, and couldn’t fall back asleep until she checked that both her children were tucked safely in bed. Someone had tried to take what was most precious to her, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect them.

Splashing warm water over her face, she hadn’t seen when Jamie had come into the bathroom and jumped when she opened her eyes.

“Och, tis just me, Sassenach,” he laughed and ran his hand over the back of her neck.

“Didn’t hear you come in,” she smiled and wiped her face on a cloth. “Did the girls get to sleep alright?”

“Aye, Mads did ask for another story, but I promised two tomorrow,” he said and picked up his toothbrush. Glancing over at his wife, he noticed she was wearing one of his shirts again. He had commented on how sexy she looked in it the first time she had thrown it on and ever since, she preferred to sleep in his clothes.

Catching him looking at her, Claire blushed and turned her body towards him. “What are you looking at? Did I not get everything off my face?” She looked back into the mirror to check.

“I was lookin’ at my beautiful wife,” Jamie said, sticking his foot out to touch her bare leg.

Making a guffawing sound, Claire rolled her eyes. “Your wife has bags under her eyes and hasn’t felt beautiful in quite some time.”

“Sassenach,” Jamie said softly and rinsed and spit before putting his toothbrush down. “Have I no’ told ye how lovely I think ye look every day since we’ve been together?”

Claire could only nod because it was true, he did tell her every day, but sometimes she didn’t feel like those words described her. After two children, her body had changed and it wasn’t what it was before. Always being on her feet at the hospital helped to keep her in shape somewhat, as did running after two kids at home. But her hair was always a mess, she didn’t get much sleep while being on call and she couldn’t even remember the last time she looked in the mirror and thought she was attractive — probably on her wedding day.

“Did ye ken the other day while we were at the store, I saw a young man starin’ at yer arse?” Jamie said as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body to his. “I had half the mind to go over to him and gouge his eyes out.”

“He was probably thinking how big it looked,” Claire smirked.

“Some men like that,” he moved one hand over said arse, giving it a firm squeeze. “Ye’ve the roundest arse I’ve ever seen, Clarie, my God.”

“I’m almost twenty-nine years old and I found a grey hair the other day,” she said, moving her hand up to her scalp.

“Oh hush, mo nighean donn,” Jamie kissed her forehead. “Dinna start talkin’ like yer on yer death bed. Yer a successful doctor, wi’ two young bairns, one grey hair comes wi’ the territory.”

“But you don’t look a day over twenty,” Claire sighed, reaching up to cup his cheek.

“I’m only twenty-seven Claire,” he snorted. “What’s all this talk of our ages? Did ye find out somethin’ ye need to tell me?”

“No, no,” Claire shook her head. “I suppose I just feel a bit older than I really am. I know that you think I’m beautiful.” At that, Jamie gave another light squeeze to her bum. “And,” she laughed, “that you find me as desirable as I find you. But, sometimes I look in the mirror and I don’t see a beautiful woman.”

“Then ye dinna need to look into a mirror, mo chridhe. Ye once told me that I had a beautiful heart,” he cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing her full bottom lip. “That is was kind and how ye admired my strength. Well, Sasseanch, your face is my heart, and therefore tis beautiful.”

“If you say so,” Claire said softly.

“Do ye no’ believe me? Have I ever lied to ye?” Jamie asked, his brows furrowing.

Shaking her head, Claire laid both hands on his chest. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean — if you say it, then it’s true. You make it true.”

Leaning down, Jamie pressed his lips to hers. When she was in his arms, it was like he was holding the whole universe and he had all the power at his fingertips. Loving Claire had made Jamie a better man in every aspect.

“Can ye no’ feel what the sight of ye does to me?” He asked, pressing his hips against her. “Ye may have born two bairns, Sassenach, but they were my bairns and yer body is a miracle to me.”

Claire sighed, her eyelids fluttering as she felt his arousal pressing against her belly. Through his sweatpants, there was only a thin barrier between his hard flesh, and Claire held on tightly to him. While it was true that most days she didn’t feel pretty enough or worth taking a second look at — when she was here in Jamie’s arms, she felt like the most beautiful and sexy woman to ever exist. He ignited something inside of her, a key that only he held.

“I do feel it,” she admitted and finally looked up at him. Slowly, she moved one hand in between their bodies and cupped his length. His mouth parted and his eyes turned to dark slits. One by one, her fingers moved into the waistband of his sweats and she felt the raspy hairs as her fingers moved down.

“I meant it when I said you make it true, Jamie,” Claire said and took hold of him. “I feel almost invincible when I have you in my arms, and especially,” she twisted her hand and rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock. “When I do that.”

“A Dhia,” Jamie groaned and couldn’t help but jerk up into her hand. “I dinna understand myself sometimes,” he shook his head as he looked down at her hand moving in his sweats — long strokes and quick squeezes. “I want to put ye in my pocket like a wee kitten, and then other times I want to spread yer legs and ride ye like a rottin’ bull and have ye screamin’ my name.”

“That’s marriage for you,” Claire chuckled and pumped his length in her hand again, making sure to give just enough pressure to leave him making those little whimpering sounds she loved so much.

“Jesus, fuck, Claire,” Jamie muttered through gritted teeth. He was trying not to jerk his hips or grip her too tightly, but he was losing all of his other senses. Her hand moved over him, fingers lightly touching his scrotum and his knees buckled. “I canna take much more of yer teasing, Sassenach.”

Claire could only bite her lip, watching as her husband’s head fell backwards. With one hand she pulled his sweatpants down over his arse, and his cock and her hand were exposed to the open air. Chills raked his body, and Jamie tightened his grip on her hip before finally looking down. Running her finger down his cock, she pumped him so the head was exposed and pressed her thumb against the bit of pre-cum. Jamie was close to spending, his hip movements becoming erratic.

“I dinna want to come in yer hand, a nighean,” Jamie nearly growled and picked her up by her waist and set her down on the bathroom counter. The t-shirt she was wearing was riding up on her thighs and Jamie could just see her pussy, peeking out under the material. His mouth watered and he ran one slender hand over her thigh while gripping his cock and pumping it slowly.

“Yer so goddamn sexy, Claire,” he looked at her, back pressed against the mirror, legs parted for him and one hand trailing over her breast. “I wanted ye from the first moment I saw ye, and nothin’s changed.”

“Please,” Claire begged and leaned forward, scooting to the edge of the counter. Jamie pressed one hand against her chest before she could kiss him and put both hands on the hem of her shirt, lifting it off and over her head. Gently, he cupped her breasts, weighing them appreciatively in his hands. Her nipples perked up at his touch, wanting to be stroked and flicked. Briefly bending over to suck on them, he then moved in between her thighs.

“I want ye to watch as I take ye, mo ghràidh,” Jamie said with one hand gripping her thigh. “To know that yer mine and ye belong to me.”

A small whimper left Claire’s mouth as both his hands parted her legs. The marble was cool against her skin, and she leaned back as Jamie positioned his cock at her entrance. She watched, captivated and aroused as he pushed into her inch by inch. And when he was fully inside of her, he slid one hand around her back and pressed his lips to hers.

Since he had the leverage of standing up, Jamie began to slowly move his hips, thrusting forward and then moving in a circular motion to feel her pulse around him. Claire came to life under his hands, and he kissed down her jaw and neck, holding her up. She slipped one hand into his, intertwining their fingers.

“And you belong to me,” she breathed heavily, flexing her hips and gripped with one hand onto the back of his neck.

Their lovemaking was always a risk and promise — for he held her life in his hands when they lay together, and she held his soul.

Jamie pulled her hips flush against him, pushing even deeper and held one leg around his waist. His thrust were steady and strong, his hands sure and every touch was deliberate.

“I love ye, a nighean,” Jamie said softly, cupping her cheek.

“I love you,” she managed to speak — her voice was shaky and she felt overcome with emotion as she looked into the eyes of her whole world.

Running a hand between their bodies, his fingers slid over her lips and pressed firmly at the place of their joining. Claire cried out, her body curving up and into his. A few more thrusts and Jamie watched as her mouth formed the perfect “O” shape and her body fell back against the mirror. Jamie felt the aftershock of her walls clenching around him and came, pressing forward as she gripped her hand in his hair.

He placed one sweaty hand on the mirror, no doubt leaving a streak. His head rested against Claire’s chest, gently rising and falling.

“Get me off this damn counter,” Claire pleaded and Jamie laughed, leaning back to pick her up. Still joined, he wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her into the bedroom where he carefully laid her down.

“Let’s go to sleep, aye?” He asked as he moved his body over hers.

“To sleep? Or to bed?” Claire’s brow quirked up and she laughed, moving one leg over his hip to roll them both over until she was on top. “We’re not old yet, Fraser. We’ve life in us.”

“If ye say so, Sassenach,” Jamie grinned and pulled his wife down to him, sealing their lips in a kiss.

++++++

The next morning, as Claire was preparing breakfast, she did something she once told herself she would never do. Julietta was sitting on the floor, near her feet, playing with the soft fuzzy part on Claire’s slippers. A moment later when Claire looked down at her, she had disappeared and when she looked over near the wall, she saw her daughter reaching her little fingers towards the electrical outlet.

“No no no no!” Claire dropped her spatula and raced towards her daughter, her hand swiftly coming to smack Julietta’s bottom. The little girl’s hand fell away from the socket and she turned to look up at Claire.

Freezing, and realizing what she had just done, Claire just stared down at her daughter. Julietta’s bottom lip started to wobble and Claire sank to her knees, enveloping her in an embrace that had to be too tight.

“Oh God,” Claire mumbled. “I’m so sorry, darling. Mummy didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” she ran her hand down her daughter’s back and over her little bottom. She hadn’t smacked it too hard, but it was her first instinct — anything to get her from touching her small fingers into the outlet.

A coughing noise came from above and Claire looked up to see Jamie with his arms crossed and a smug expression plastered all over his face.

“Don’t you dare…” Claire said.

Julietta wiggled in her mother’s arms and then Claire finally released her.

“Pway,” her daughter said and walked away, as if nothing had happened.

Rising to her knees, Clarie avoided Jamie’s eyes and returned to the eggs on the stovetop. Jamie came to stand beside her, that sly grin still on his face and Claire elbowed him in the ribs.

“Did I see what I think I just did?” He asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “No, she was about to electrocute herself!”

“I recall a certain conversation a few years back about what ye would and would no’ do to our child,” he cleared his throat. “And I recall that ye took the opposite stance from me, givin’ me a swift kick to the curb.”

“Look,” Claire turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. “Perhaps when I said all those things, I didn’t really know what I was talking about.”

“And ye thought when I said spankin’ our child, ye assumed I’d beat them?” He raised his brows. “Just a wee tap I think it was.”

“Would you wipe that look off your face?” Claire huffed and bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“What look? Is it the look of a man who’s wife is admitting he was right?” He slid one hand around her waist. “Cause I dinna think I can.”

“I never said you were right,” Claire said towards the eggs.

“But twas implied,” Jamie kissed her temple. “I best leave ye to the eggs, Sassenach. I need to go and check on our daughter, she may be permanently scarred for the rest of her life.”

“You’re never going to shut up about this are you?” Claire did grin now, grabbing his cheeks with one hand. “If you ever want your wife to invite you to her bed again, you’ll forget this ever happened.”

Jamie clicked his tongue and reached out to lick at her finger. “I can go w’out yer bed, Sassenach, but are ye really tellin’ me ye can go w’out this?” He asked, all while taking her hand that was on her mouth and dragging it down his incredibly lean body.

“You lie,” she chuckled. “Last month you were gone for two days meeting a new client and you told me your balls were blue the whole time.”

“Fine,” Jamie sighed, defeated. “I hereby forget that Claire Elizabeth Fraser spanked our child even though she said she wouldna ever do it and caused me, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser weeks of distress and heartache. Was that sufficient, m’lady?”

“It’ll do, soldier,” Claire laughed and leaned up on her toes to kiss him. “Now, can you actually go and check on Julietta? I do feel horrible.”

“Oh, I ken ye do, a nighean. I was only teasin’ ye,” he kissed her forehead before walking over to their children in the other room.

Claire had done something she told herself she never would. But she had changed, as everyone does over time. She did things she would never have done years ago, eaten foods she used to hate and even had a one night stand with a stranger — but that stranger ended up being the love of her life. So perhaps, change was a good thing. Claire told herself she would never spank her child again, but she also told herself that Jamie was right, as he often was many times — not that she would tell him that to his face.

Jamie had made an oath to Claire — to love and protect her and their children, to always be there for her no matter what. An oath is a promise, one that isn’t kept lightly. Over the last few years, Claire had made a few promises of her own. And she promised to love Jamie Fraser, the love of her life, the father of her beautiful daughters until her last dying breath.

#the oath #outlander fanfic #THE END #chapter 30 #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #outlander fanfiction #epilogue #or is it #lmao yes it is

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codyfernmorelikedaddyfern · 4 years

Text

Medicine - Jim x fem!Reader // Epilogue

Don’t look at me, I’m crying. Jim Mason deserved so much better and I love him with every bits of my being.

You can read Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five.

Description: (Y/N) loves Jim. Jim loves (Y/N). Now, all they need to do is run away.

Warnings: I ain’t spoiling shit but you might want to sit down with a couple of tissues.

Word count: 2058.

Once Jim got a hold of his twin sister and he told her about their plans of leaving the town, he faced the harsh rejection and anger she had built up. He tried again days later but her harsh refusal only helped Jim close in ever so slightly. (Y/N) was right, she couldn’t keep them both and she didn’t even need to be asked the question. Jim was her future. So as the fireworks of the 4th of July were thundering outside, Jim quietly packed his bag into his suitcase, sneaking it out to load it in his car with his surfboard. He didn’t even need to say the words to (Y/N), she was already ready to go with him.

“It’s just you and I against the words” her voice soothed the ache in his mind. Her hand avoided the large plaster she had put on her lover’s forehead after he wiped out and hit his head against the bottom of the ocean floor. “I can’t get her words out of my head, (Y/N)” he whispered, “she lied to me” his voice pinched his girl’s eyes closed while his tears and snot stained her tee shirt, his tee shirt.

“She said we didn’t need anyone else.” His breath itched in his throat while a soft sob left his chest. “I got so angry.” She laid there and listened to his pained words. “She said we had to stick to our own Tribe”. (Y/N)’s hand silently stroked his wet cheek while Jim cried against her. She held him and reassured him for hours. “We’re out own tribe, Jimmy” she whispered against his tired lips. “Tomorrow, we’re going to jump in your car and we’re going to run far, far away, okay?” (Y/N) looked for his eyes and he rewarded her with a tender kiss as they fell asleep against each other.

Jim’s hand rested on (Y/N)’s knee as he drove outside of the borders of Los Angeles, his music blasting through the radio. She had her life and supplies packed in a few backpacks resting on top of her boyfriend’s surfboard. His was neatly folded in a large suitcase next to her belongings, the trunk of his car nearly overflowing. Their car. Because they agreed they would share everything as soon as he pull her into the vehicle.

They had been on the road for hours already, shouting and singing at the top of their lung over the music Jim had picked to drive to. And quickly, the summer night was falling on them. They didn’t know where they were going but they had each other and that’s the only future they were dreaming for. (Y/N) had snuck back in her house before they ran way and she retrieved her childhood piggy bank and the fat envelop of cash her father had been stuffing for her to follow her college dreams.

“We should stop somewhere to sleep, babe” she gently whispered. He nodded. “Let’s keep out eyes peeled for a motel or something” his voice agreed. It took them longer than they had expected to find a place to rest. (Y/N) fished in her envelop to pay for the Motel night before they made their way to the room she received the key for. Jim quickly wrapped his arms around the waist of his girl as they collapsed on the bed, exhausted by the long travel they partook.

“Babe?” his voice trailed against her chest while her hands were tied in his hair. She hummed in response, planting her lips against his forehead as he laid against her. “I’m in love with you” he gently whispered before kissing her clothed collarbones.

The words he had just spoken caused a flock of butterflies to flutter in her tummy. “These are dangerous words, Jimmy” her hand drifted from his brown locks to the crook of his cheek. “I really mean it” his ocean blue crashed in her (Y/E/C) ones. He couldn’t see that spark of the broken girl she was. She couldn’t find the hurt and the pain in his eyes either. “Promise?” her voice whispered while she brought her little finger in view. He linked his digit to hers. “Pinky Promise” he confirmed.

Jim didn’t need to hear her say it back. He just needed to stay with him. “Should we go to Las Vegas and get married?” she wondered, not letting go of his fingers from the embrace of hers. Jimmy laughed before realising the serious tone in her voice. “Would you want that?” he pulled himself up to press a chaste kiss to her lips. (Y/N) nodded against his mouth. “Alright, we’ll do that” he smiled before tucking her away in his warm arms.

The gentle snored of Jim lulled (Y/N) to sleep, their bodies still clothes in the outfit they escaped Palos Verdes in. Steadily, her heartbeat went to rest as she pulled herself impossibly closer to her boyfriend. “I’m in love with you too” she softly whisper right as her slumber took her, Jim’s arm tightening across her.

The gentle rays of the sun glided against Jim’s legs, pulling him out of his sleep. When he opened his eyes from his dream, the absence of his girl in his arms caused him to stir out of the bed. Stumbling through the sleep in his eyes, his eyes fell upon her as she was busying herself on the hob. As he walked across the kitchen, he placed a tender kiss on the forehead of his toddler happily making a mess of the scrambled eggs he had been served by his mother.

Jim’s arms reached around the swelling stomach of (Y/N), his lips crowning her with a kiss on her own forehead. “Good morning Mrs. Mason” he slurred against her hair, the smell of bacon intoxicating him. “Good morning, handsome” she let out a soft chuckle, giving a quick glance at his large hands caressing her tummy, catching a glint of the wedding band on his ring finger. “Dreamt of me?” (Y/N) teased as she pulled herself on the tip of her toes to grab a set of four plates.

“Yeah, actually. I dreamed about the day we left” he kissed her temple, pulling cutlery out of the kitchen isle before the sound of scuttling down the stairs. “Morning daddy!” a little pair of arms wrapped around his leg right as another one clutched on the other one. Jim picked up both of his older children, pulling them on their own stool around the island.

“How’s number one?” he kissed the chubby cheek of his eldest daughter, a spitting image of her mother. She gleefully giggled with a joyful “Good!” before letting her father lean to her little brother. “And number two?” he blew a big raspberry on the little boy’s cheek, having the child burst in laughers. “Am good” he giggled before Jim stumbled across the kitchen to pick up the little toddler, pulling him up above his before pieced of scrambled egg crumbles from his face. “And how’s number three?” he squeeze the little boy’s sized, tickling him. The youngest one nodded through his chuckles before being sat back on his high chair by his father.

“Everybody good?” he looked up at the assembly of brown locks sitting on their stools, ready for the breakfast (Y/N) just put on their plates. A collective “Yes” seemed to shake the whole house. His wife’s arms wrapped around his waist, her swelling tummy against his back. “Is mommy good?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, rewarded by a little nod from her tired eyes. She bend back a little bit, exposing her bump “And so is number four” she smiled before Jim leaned in to pepper her stretched skin with kisses before helping her sit at her chair.

That’s how every morning looked, giggly, bubbly and so incredibly loud. The kids hurried back to their bedroom to get ready for their first day of summer holiday while Jim turned his attention to his wife. “So you said you dreamed about the day we left?” (Y/N) tenderly smiled up to her husband, his toned arms pulling her up to sit on the island so he could rest his head against her stomach. “Yeah, the best mistake we’ve ever made” he looked up at her before letting his gaze wonder around the house they had bought and moved in years ago when Number Two was just a newborn.

“I owe everything to you, you know?” he whispered as he felt the growing child wiggle inside of her womb. “That night, I threw the pills I stole from my mother” his voice confessed while (Y/N) left her hands comb through his brown locks, a trait he had passed onto all three of their children so far. “You never told me” she kissed the top of his head. “I was ashamed but on that night, I realised that it wasn’t making me happy anymore. I didn’t need antidepressant, I had you”. A tear dropped from his wife’s face to roll on his. “You were, and still is, my medicine” Jim straightened up, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

Jim had entered a few surfboarding competition and made enough money to buy a house where she made her studio. “Your art allowed us to have this house. You allowed me to sober up and get my shit together”. “Swear jar” (Y/N) interrupted, chuckling before he left a kiss on her cheek. “How much do you owe the swear jar since yesterday, honey?” he whispered, hinting and the heated night they shared the night before. “Probably about 100 buck?” she chuckled before kissing the tip of his nose. “You’re the love of my life, you know that?” Jim flashed a sincere grin, getting his wife to nod in approval. “Yeah, because you’re mine too” she kissed his lips once more before the scampering of tiny feet came back.

“Daddy! We need help!” his daughter shouted. “I told you they wouldn’t be able to put their wetsuits on alone” (Y/N) giggled at his sigh. “Why do you always have to be right?” Jim helped her off of the counter and she made her way to the bathroom to pack the multiple beach towels required. The father climbed up the stairs to his kids, helping them to put on their little gears before bringing them downstairs.

“Who’s ready to go and surf with Daddy?” (Y/N) loudly ask as she grabbed the handle to the backdoor of their house, leading down a gentle slope to the ocean. They all raised their hands, holding their own boards under their arms. Jim flashed you a gentle smile as he grabbed his old and battered board, his own wetsuit slipped up against his waist. The brunette tornado ran out to the sand under the watchful eye of their dad.

Leaning back under the shade, (Y/N) settled her small easel and pulled out her paints before watching Jim slide his arms inside the sleeves of his suit, quickly scampering to his girl to have her zip it up. He pat his chest proudly before thanking her with a kiss. He wiggled his arms slightly to adjust the suit before flashing a mischievous look at his wife. “Nice and tight” he wiggled his eyebrows and her only to hear her chuckle and pull him in what may be the hundredth kiss that day. “You wife won’t be for long if you keep on having her pop out your kids” she bit back.

Jim laughed, his arms draped over her waist, looking at her wedding band on her ring finger. “I think we should get remarried. Not in Las Vegas this time. Like, a real wedding” he whispered to her, making them sway with the rhythm of the waves. “That sounds lovely, chief” she planted a new kiss to his cheek this time. He looked over at the three children she gave him playing in the shallow water. “Look at them” he carried on, pulling her even tighter in his embrace. “Our own little tribe” they whispered at the same time, fondly watching over the three cherubs with the same knack for water as their father. (Y/N) picked up her brushes and worked on her newest piece, inspired by the loud giggles of her family playing in the water, her eyes glued on her husband.

________________________________________________________________

Tagged : @psychobitchtess, @hplotrfan, @tea-party-at-wonderland, @langdxn, @hecohansen31 & @blakewaterxx

Just let me know if you would like to be tagged whenever I post a piece!

#jim mason #jim mason x reader #tribes of palos verdes

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kailerathien · 5 years

Text

Idle Hands...

"'Ey! Watch where yer goin', elf!"

Kai grunted as a heavy shoulder collided with her own, jostling the stack of books she'd haphazardly stuffed under one arm; the tome responsible for her distraction tumbling out of her hand entirely.

A nearly invisible tendril of inky magic caught the book before it could hit the dusty Dalaran street. Annoyance won out over gratitude for the conspicuous manner in which it'd been saved, and Kai shot a glare at her younger sister, yanking the text free and shooing its eerie savior with a hiss. Her sibling, intent on the man who had interrupted their return from the book shop, offered little more than what she probably assumed was an innocent smile. Even after years of practicing the expression, Avalara looked as she always did when she got her way, like a very unsubtle cat who had made no effort to remain silent while hunting, and then devouring, the canary.

"Well?! What 'ave ya got ta say fer yerself?!"

Kai was drawn out of her own thoughts, where she'd honestly been spending entirely too much time of late, by the human's gruff demand.

He stood at least a head taller than the pair, his pronounced glower all but casting a shadow of its own. Dressed in worn, dirty leathers, a string of pelts tied to his belt, he appeared to be returning from a hunt.

"Smells like it too," Ava remarked in quiet Thalassian.

Kindly stay out of my head. Remember, I know where you sleep, Kai thought tersely.

That's hardly a threat, considering the access you allowed me to your mind in a bid to protect yourself and your friends from that shadow priestess. Should you try to harm me, I could take control of you as easily as a puppeteer with a marionette.

First, I've heard that puppeteering isn't as easy as you would make it out to be. Second, perhaps you would be swayed to know that I've provided the key to our vault to a friend, and warned that she should only return it to me if she can confirm that I am of sound mind? She is a practitioner of the holy arts, by the by.

You. Bitch.

Smoothing her brief, victorious grin into an apologetic smile, Kai offered in Common, "I'm really very sorry about that, I didn't mea-." The words were, of course, cut short as a calmly scathing voice trod rudely over her own.

"Perhaps, brutish human, you ought to mind your own surroundings. Or better yet, keep your loutish presence out of civilization until you've bothered to bathe. Count yourself lucky that my sister touched you at all; she's no doubt a far sight more beautiful than whatever hound awaits you at home."

"Not really a compliment..." Kai muttered dryly.

The heavily accented words had, what Kai imagined, were their desired result. Thick brows snapped together in rage, an ominous thud resounding as the heavy boots of the man carried him into Avalara's personal space.

Avalara winced, though not from any emotion approaching fear, her fine-boned features adopting a long-since perfected expression of disgust. "Oh dear, that's not a good look for you at all, what with that already heavy brow. Really, you are doing yourself no favors."

"Alright, Ava, that's enough," Kai sighed. Given the time she'd been forced to spend with her youngest sibling, she'd grown uneasily accustomed to her violent antics and could usually head them off before any deaths occurred. Usually.

"What'd ya say 'bout me, bitch?" the human snarled.

"Gods, don't tell me that along with that face, you've been denied the ability to understand simple phrases? You poor man," Avalara drawled, each falsely saccharine word barbed with carefully measured acid.

"Listen here..." The man's fists clenched at his sides before one came to rest on the large axe hanging at his hip. "You think yer better 'en me?"

"Oh darling, I know that I am," Ava replied with a smile that could have frozen every fountain in Silvermoon solid. "So why don't you be a good boy and apologize to my sister for your inevitable, but still quite churlish, behavior and we can be on our way."

"You think I'm gonna apologize to the likes of you? Ha! You're lucky I don't--"

The shadows that had coiled faintly, restlessly about the priestess' fingers suddenly thickened, obscuring her hands as she stepped forward.

"Would you care to know what I think," Avalara murmured in a low, hypnotic tone.

The human blinked several times, shaking his head. "The fuck are you doin' to me?" he demanded, his tone colored with confusion.

"Ava you've had your fun. That's enough. You're going to draw attention," Kai murmured, glancing around uncomfortably. She recognized the look in her sister's eyes; hungry, angry, just slightly insane. There was only so much trouble she could buy their way out of.

"I think, that you are having an absolutely terrible day," Avalara continued, felflame eyes that shone a touch too brightly boring into the hazy blue gaze of the human. "Oh darling, it's not just a day is it? Your wife and children, gone. Nothing left to your name after you gambled everything away."

"Ava, enough," Kai demanded more insistently, reaching for the sleeve of her sister's robes. A cold tendril of shadow caught her wrist, holding fast, before she could make contact.

"How'd ya know about... Ahhh! Stop it! Get outta my head!" The man caught his head in his hands, terror and agony warring for moments upon his scarred features before his expression went slack, hands dropping back to his sides as his eyes stared distantly at nothing in particular.

"Now, let's try this again, shall we? Apologize to my sister." The words reverberated with hollow command, and though she was no mage, Kai could feel the power behind them ringing down to her bones.

Something awful shone, for just a moment, in the man's gaze as it swung toward her, the briefest hint of his true consciousness, rage and helplessness combined, before it faded, tamped down by the control her sister had upon his mind.

"Ava..." Kai's low voice shook slightly. For all that she had experienced on the battlefield, there was something about the shadow magic that seemed to drive all of its wielders slightly mad that still made her incredibly apprehensive.

"I'm awfully sorry for bumpin' into ya, miss."

"Good boy," Avalara cooed. "Now that that's taken care of, let's end your miserable, suffering existence, hm? You'd be so much better off, as would we all. Wouldn't that be nice? Not having to wake up every morning to recall what an utter failure you are? How your mistakes destroyed everything you've ever loved. And it would be so simple, too. All you have to do is walk straight to the edge of the city... and keep going."

"Keep going," the man agreed quietly with a nod, turning abruptly away from the pair.

The enormity of what was about to happen shook Kairielle from the trance she seemed locked in. "Enough!" she snapped, wrenching her hand free of the bruising grasp of the shadows and catching her sister's arm roughly. Though it took all of her strength, she managed to drag the priestess back several feet.

"You spoil all of my fun," Avalara complained, blinking slowly as she looked away from the man.

He seemed stunned for several long moments, peering bleerily at the two Sin'dorei women and his surroundings.

"Get out of here, now," Kairielle urged.

His dumbfounded gaze swung toward Avalara, seeming to silently seek her permission on the matter.

"Ava, I mean it." She gave her sister a hard shake. "Let him go. Now. Entirely."

"Yes, go on," Ava sighed dismissively. "Before I change my mind."

Still seeming unsure of what had just happened, the human rubbed absently at the back of his neck before turning and stumbling away.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Kai demanded as the door to their small apartment swung open.

"You have eyes, and you would lead me to believe a brain, have you not," Ava replied neutrally, draping herself artfully across the expensive chaise she'd insisted upon purchasing. The sitting room was an odd clash of their two natures; expensive furniture and curios crowded with books and armor, a well-worn (disgusting, Ava had called it) chair tucked beside the mantle.

Tossing her books onto said chair, Kai rubbed her forehead with a long suffering sigh. "You could have been seen! We were in the middle of the street! And honestly, Ava, bumping into someone is hardly a crime worthy of death."

"If you say so," Ava muttered, retrieving a catalogue of undergarments she'd received from Silvermoon and thumbing through the glossy pages. "You know, we didn't have such problems in Silvermoon. If you'd only allow us to return home--"

"We are home, so get used to it," Kai snapped irritably, throwing herself into the chair where only moments before she'd tossed her books. Cursing vividly beneath her breath, she tossed a few of the tomes across the room.

Avalara gasped dramatically. "Honestly. If you keep that up, they'll revoke your librarian membership."

"This is serious, Ava. You can't keep this up. You think you hide your little... exploits so well, but all it takes is one person. One person could mean the end of everything we've built here."

"Do calm yourself, sister dear. No one is going to catch me. Should anyone think of turning me in," she smiled coyly over the edge of the pages she held, "Rest assured that I can... Change their mind."

"And what of the... overnight guests that you bring home? Can I trust that they are willing participants in your little games?"

"Now you're just insulting me. Of course they are willing."

"Actually willing? Or willing because you've made them so?" Kai pried, never one to foolishly take her sister at her word.

One corner of Ava's lips tugged upwards. "This may come as something of a shock to you, considering your swift descent into spinsterhood, but I don't need my magic to convince others to do my bidding."

"You expect me to believe that all of the men--"

"And women," Ava interjected slyly.

Kai rolled her eyes. "All of the people that you bring home are willing participants in... Whatever it is you do with them?"

"Well, first I tie them up, with my magic if they're feeling particularly advent--"

"I don't want to know!" Kai exclaimed, jumping to her feet, a hint of color warming her freckled cheeks.

"Too easy," Ava sing-songed, her gaze flicking back to the catalogue she held.

"Look, I know you want to return to Silvermoon, and we will. In due time."

"When?" Avalara pressed.

"When I think it's safe."

"And when will that be? When your precious Horde is under the rule of someone both competent and sane?" Felbright eyes peeked over the edge of a page. "Don't get me wrong, I enjoy destruction as much as the next girl, but my deeds don't usually result in war. First Garrosh and now Sylvanas? Do you think it's too late to ask if the Alliance will have us?"

"It doesn't matter now, we can't change the past," Kai muttered, reaching for one of her fallen books and settling into her chair. It didn't sit well with her when her sister's thoughts so clearly echoed her own.

"Not with that attitude, we can't."

"Can you just try to behave? For a while longer?"

Kai pinned her sister with a look. Though they disagreed, often and bitterly, about nearly everything, there had always been a quiet understanding that when it came to the truly important things, they could rely on one another.

It was a shame that they rarely agreed on what was important.

Sighing heavily, Avalara gave a small nod, lying through her teeth as she replied, "Of course. I'll be good. For now."

#IC #Kai Lerathien #Avalara Lerathien

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honeywithblueberries · 6 years

Text

The Laundry Room Ch 4 (Final)

A/N: As always, thank you to ScaraMedn and kt_valmiri for beta reading and editing. This the conclusion of the Laundry Room, so brace yourselves! More Where Legends Came From to follow!

……………..

The days following the wedding announcement were the worst Nicholas had ever lived. Every delivery he had to Lapinet house, Sandra was nowhere to be found. Everyone was running around, preparing for the wedding and causing such a chaos in the household, he suspected the proposal to have been a huge surprise. Nicholas was not even aware of Dorian’s return. And though he was still warmly welcomed, her lack of presence made the house seem barren, even through the non-stop activity.

And on the eve of the wedding, he couldn’t stand not seeing her before she was forever out of his grasp.

As he lay awake, he had never known his heart to beat so fast. The feeling of the world closing in on him was nearly overwhelming. So much so, he left his bed and dressed. Now he walked briskly down the row of handsome brownstones, his eyes searching out the one he sought.

Gasping for breath, he came to a halt at the tall, metal gate that surrounded it. He grasped the bars in his paws and stared into the dark front garden. His keen sense of smelled picked up her scent. She was close by. Or had been not too long ago.

And there she was.

Sitting just out of the light spilling from a parlor window. Her small paws clutched the bench she sat on, her chest heaving as she tried to collect herself from whatever she was working through. Her ears were down, as was her gaze and she seemed to not notice his approach.

Even in the darkness, Nicholas could still see her beauty. He could still observe the soft curve of her form, from the gentle slope of her chin through her neck, past her small breasts, to the hips wrapped in a causal day dress. He only ever saw hints of her legs, their shape outlined by her brisk walk.

His longing for her muted his voice. Part of him wished to simply stare at her silhouette; with her scent mingling with the flora of the front garden, it would have been all too easy. But he found himself calling out to her regardless of the mistake he knew it would be.

“Sandra!” Her ears snapped up as her head turned in the direction of his voice. To his delight, she pushed up immediately and went to him.

“Nicholas!” Her paws grasped the bars just below his own, her grey eyes seeming to drink in his presence. “Wha- How- Why are you here?”

A paw left the bar to cup her soft cheek. He relished the way she leaned into it, allowing him to pull her as close as their barrier would allow. Each had allowed the tension between the two of them to be ignored. Her upbringing had made it possible for their unlikely friendship to blossom, something they both held onto dearly. Nicholas thought he had prepared himself for this day.

Only to find himself so achingly wrong.

“I read the announcement. I know you and……….him……,” Nicholas began, “and I had to see you.”

Sandra’s eyes cast themselves to the grass at that. His paw remained, though he felt the quiet tear trail down from her eyes.

“Is it true? Are you to marry him tomorrow?” Taking in a shaky breath, she gave a slight nod. Nicholas felt his heart clinch. His eyes still taking in her face, his nose committing her scent to memory, he felt his world start to crumble.

“Please,” he whispered. Sandra brought her gaze up to his. “Don’t…”

He never got a chance to finish his thought. Her paws went to his muzzle and brought his lips down to hers. Though the bars kept them separate, their kiss would not be denied. Hungry and desperate, they allowed themselves just that moment. It was Sandra who broke it off. With a quiet sob, she pulled away from him, Nicholas being left with but a lingering taste of the bunny he had loved for so long.

“I don’t want you to marry him,” he whispered, turning his nose into her palm. Her thumbs stroked away his tears before reluctantly leaving his face.

“I’m sorry, Nicholas,” she gave another silent sob, before straightening up with new resolve she did not entirely feel, “but I must. It is all arranged, the preparations are done, and the whole of Zootopia knows I am to wed him.”

Closing his eyes as the pain of her words struck him, the todd nodded. He pulled his own paw back from her face. The small whimper she allowed to escape caused his teeth to clench as he pushed away from the gate.

He opened his eyes and drank in the sight of her.

“I only wish for your happiness, Sandra,” he choked out, “and that he worships every part of you.”

Nicholas turned and strode briskly away from her, and her scent, and the awful torment he felt being around her. He had made a mistake. The last few years of delivering her family’s things were a mistake. If he had sent another, as he always had done in the past, he would have been left only admiring her from afar. Not stranded in a hell of his own making. Blindly, he made his way back to the Laundry Room. His coat removed and placed on the rack, he crossed to his bedroom and laid down fully clothed, taking care to not wake the Wildes.

Sleep eluded him until the sun peaked over the horizon. And with it came Sandra’s wedding day. Nicholas wished to fall into the bed further and vanish within it’s covers. How patronizing the sun seemed to be, how determined it was to shine, not caring that he was feeling miserable and heart sick.

When he finally rose to face the day, it was with the distinct lack of enthusiasm he normally displayed. Ears were dropped back against his head and his tail lay limp on the floor. He kept mostly to himself, troubling Ava when she stopped in for a visit with her daughters. She had been hoping they would be enough to distract her brother, as it seemed to have worked this past week. John had been trying to get him to talk and laugh all day but was only met with silence.

He didn’t even respond when Francine had grabbed his paw and pressed it against her swollen belly. The movement of the child within it failed to bring a smile to his muzzle like it would normally. By evening, John had had enough. Nicholas was checking a row of clothing hanging out to dry when his brother-in-law set aside his work with a groan.

“How about you and I go out for a pint?” John asked, stretching his arms over his head. “Get out of the shop for bit, breath in some fresh air? What do you say?”

Seeing through the ruse, all he responded with was a grunt. “You need not entertain me, John. I’m sure Frankie is anxious for you to go upstairs for supper.”

“Actually, I already told her I was going for a drink with you,” John walked to him and placed a paw onto his shoulder. “You could use a break, Nicholas. You’ve been pushing yourself all day.” The taller todd turned away from him, tensing at his next word.

“Please….”

With a hesitant nod, he allowed himself to be lead to the coat rack. Pushing his arms through, he blindly followed his brother-in-law through the door, locking up the building before continuing to Tavern Row. Before he could register what was happening, Nicholas found himself with a glass of beer in his paw, on a stool next to John.

John took a long swig as he patiently waited for Nicholas to start speaking.

“She’s married……” he whispered.

“So I heard,” confirmed John.

“I should have fought for her.” A sip was taken from the pint in front of him. “I should have let her father know I wanted her. We spent enough time together, perhaps he expected me to at inquire about his daughter. He’s a decent buck. He aways treated me with respect. Maybe he would have not been opposed to such a match…”

“Maybe,” John agreed, “or maybe he would have thrown any law he could find at you in retaliation. It’s entirely possible he and his family planned this wedding in record time as a way to keep you from asking for her. Or, if he did give his blessing, the rest of Zootopia would have eaten you two alive. Your business would have suffered, she would be casted out of society, and who knows how many physical attacks either of you would have suffered.”

“But we would had each other,” Nicholas retaliated. “Would you trade your love for Francine if you deemed it difficult.”

“You tried that, remember,” John reminded him, “and it didn’t work. I would move heaven and Earth to ensure I could be with her.”

Both todds grinned at the memory of their feud. It seemed like it was a lifetime ago.

“I would like to have said the same about Sandra.” Nicholas scoffed bitterly at his own statement. “But that’s obviously untrue. I should have spoken up when I had the chance.”

“These are the sacrifices for love, Nicholas,” reasoned John. “There would have been more grief had you pursued her.”

Nicholas digested John’s words as the two drank pint after pint. The pain he felt didn’t lessen, but he was feeling comfortably numb as they handed over their few notes and coins to pay their bar tab. He was even laughing along with his brother-in-law as they staggered out the door towards their homes.

“I’m to be a father!” cried John, laughing his nerves and excitement. Nicholas whooped in delight.

“And a fine father you shall be!” With a hiccup, he nudged his companion. A bit too hard it seemed as he stumbled towards the wall of the alley they turned into. “Also, Nicholas is a fine name for any child.”

“Ahhh! And so you’ve said,” John slurred with a grin. “What would you trade for naming our son after you?”

“My respect,” he hiccuped again as he thought about his answer. “And my undying devotion to your family.”

“Both I have already, good sir! I earned that the day you sister ran off with me.” They shared another laugh as they rounded another corner, the tall zebra they ran into startling them from their drunken stumble. “Beg your pardon, sir.”

John gave an exaggerated bow, laughing as they tried to side step him. Their path was once more blocked by the larger mammal, much to their confusion. With unfocused eyes, both todds exchanged glances and turned back to whence they came.

Only to find themselves boxed in.

A large hippo stood next to a wildebeest, blocking the way back to the tavern. From their left came a stallion, who eyed the pair of foxes with an evil grin.

“Lost your way, have you?”

Both turned to the figure of another, a chubby woodchuck, emerging from the shadowy depths of the alley. His brown eyes flicked over the pair, a large knife being used to clean his claws as he strolled casually towards them.

“Actually, we’re being cornered here against our will,” argued Nicholas drunkenly.

The woodchuck smirked at the fox as he came closer, the knife now leveled on them. “You’re funny. But, unfortunately for you, FOX, we’re not looking for funny.”

Understanding dawned on John as Nicholas scowled.

“You want to leave this alley? Hand over your money and we’ll be on our way.”

Nicholas scoffed as John opened his mouth to protest. The older todd spoke before he had the chance to do so.

“You want our coin, do ya?” He stormed up to the woodchuck, who flinched as he bared his fangs at him. “Go to the fucking tavern then! They have the last of it, so you won’t be getting SHIT from either of us! So FUCK OFF!”

That sobered John up considerably. Stepping forward, he grasped his brother-in-law’s arm, pulling him back, away from the now nervous looking woodchuck and his conies.

“Don’t mind him, mates!” He laughed nervously. “We’ve had a pint or two, so we haven’t any mo-“

“Nice ring,” came the deep voice of the wildebeest. “Much too nice for a FOX.”

“Pass it over,” said the zebra, “and you’ll be on your way.”

Drawing in a deep breath, John’s fingers went to the wedding band on his paw. Francine’s eyes as she slipped it onto him flashed in his mind as he started to pull it off. Knowing that she would prefer him to return home without it then die for it, his decision was a bit easier. But the idea of loosing it still made his heart ache.

“No.”

Eyes closed at Nicholas’ voice.

Please, John begged, be silent.

“What did you say, fox?” Asked the woodchuck dangerously, the knife held with slightly shaky paw.

“Sorry, what I said was ‘NO’! He will not be giving you his wedding ring.” Nicholas glowered at their aggressor. “We’re broke and we’re drunk and all we want is to go home and see our families, so let us pass and we won’t let the police know there’s a bunch of little children running around at night, threatening other mammals. Good day.”

And with a mocking salute, he made to shove past him.

“Stay away from me, FOX!” Nicholas gave a sharp grunt of pain as the woodchuck pushed back at him, the todd’s paws coming up to hold his side.

Green eyes, as wide as saucers, met a pair just as shocked as his. John gave a strangled gasp as his own fell to the now bloodied knife in the woodchuck’s paws. Judging by how the others took off from alley, actual harm had never been in their plans.

The woodchuck’s eyes gleamed with tears as he looked into Nicholas’ face. Still clutching the knife, he turned and fled, letting the wounded todd fall to his knees as his blood spilled onto the ally floor. John ran and caught his friend as he started to fall to his back.

Shock that had kept his tears at bay started to wear off as bright brown found fading green. Nicholas looked up at him without seeing, the phantom scent of his bunny choosing that moment to fill his senses. John blinked in disbelief as his employer, his friend, his brother, went limp in his arms and the light of his eyes faded.

Pawsteps broke the oppressive silence. John looked up to see a young raccoon he recognized as their chimney sweep gaping at the scene.

“Please!” He cried out. “Fetch someone. GO LAD!”

The young raccoon didn’t hesitate to obey, turning tail to find the closest help he could.

“Nicholas! Stay with me!” John put a paw on his muzzle as he shook him desperately. “Nicholas! Francine needs you! Ava needs you.”

Realization broke over him as the tears fell faster. Pulling him up, he embraced the still body of his brother. No longer did he feel the beat of his heart, nor the rasp of his breath.

“I need you……” He sobbed. “I need you to tell me how I’m doing as a father. I need you to let me know how to stay on your sister’s good side. I need help remembering our anniversary and birthdays and you need to tell me if my cooking is poor and if my stitches are crooked.

“Don’t leave me…….

“Nicholas………”

And with that, Nicholas Piberious Krasny left the world. ………………….

Francine sat at the dinning room table of her family home, bombarded with memories of her childhood. Of twirling around the living room with Ava while her brother played piano, playing hide and seek with Nicholas in the Laundry Room, hiding under this very table with him when it stormed outside. All of it came crashing back. Each brought a certain degree of pain that made her not quite sure how she was surviving.

Added to her hurt was the constant shifting of her child in her womb. It’s little limbs prodded the walls of it’s confinement, as though it wished her to know it was ready for the world. Even though Francine knew better. As a fox, she had always known how cruel the word could be to her kind. And it always ached when it was shown.

But this.

This was torture. Knowing that every morning, when she woke up, Nicholas wouldn’t be there. He wouldn’t compete with John in making her laugh. Nor would he scoop up Robyn and Marian into his arms and shower them with affection. And when her own child was born, he wouldn’t be there, pacing the floor with her husband, waiting to meet the newest addition to their family. And there would be no whispered promises to love and protect her kit until his final breath.

“It’s a splendid piece of property!” The loud, jovial voice of a potential buyer grated on her ears as it rang through the open window. “Show me where to sign!”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she heard the real estate agent laugh along with him. She could picture John’s face as her todd stood next to the lion and his wife, having to listen to him drone away about his plans to raze the Laundry Room and build his house upon the lot. His misery would match her own, though he would hide it better than she. Hence, she sat in the upstair apartment, waiting and saying a silent goodbye to her family’s treasures.

After his death had been confirmed, a lawyer had approached the Wildes and Faxes. They were sat down and told that Nicholas had not been paying his taxes. The accountant he had been working with for years had been pocketing the funds meant for them. To make matters worse, the rat had vanished without a trace, not only leaving as a fugitive, but leaving her brother’s estate heavily indebted.

So the Laundry Room and upstairs apartments, the property her parents had nearly worked themselves to death for, ones that they had owned before the birth of their children and filled with love and family, were to be sold. Along with the furniture and more costly valuables, Ava and her husband were dipping into their modest savings to cover what was left. The debt would be taken care of once the building sold, leaving the Wildes with just enough to not starve until they found work elsewhere.

The sounds of paw steps up the stairs pulled Francine away from her thoughts. John paused as he opened the door, looking over to his wife as she sat with her back to him. Crossing what felt to be a great distance from where he entered, his paws landed on her shoulders. Heart breaking as she stiffened at his touch, her position didn’t shift as he gathered his thoughts.

“It’s sold,” he finally whispered, thumbs gently rubbing the base of her neck. “The lawyer said once the payment is received, everything will be paid off. Now, we just need to figure out-“

“I don’t want to raise our baby here.” The voice that came from her was not his wife’s. This was a voice that was rough and brittle, filled with something beyond anger. “With what we have left, I want to find somewhere other then Zootopia. After our child is born, I want to leave.”

Paws stilled on her shoulders, John gave a nod as he blinked away tears.

“Ok,” his agreement caused her to start and look up at him in surprise. Perhaps she expected more of a fight. “Had I known that was an option I would have suggested it sooner.” He kissed her forehead and pulled away, wishing to run his paws over the mint that grew on the window sill. “Any ideas of where you like to go?”

Francine gave his retreating form a ghost of a smile as she thought. “Somewhere open. And green. Somewhere we can get away from the noise of the city. I figured as you’ve traveled for so long you would know better than I.”

John stood in front to the planters, the scent of the herbs within them rubbing raw the pain in his heart. His mind forced itself to go over the many places he had traveled before coming to the city. Anywhere they went would be difficult with a newborn and the few places where foxes were completely accepted were further than he would risk traveling.

Bending to bury his nose into the well tended mint, he inhaled deeply. His eyes opened languidly as he felt the balm of their scent ease his anxiety. But the moment was short lived. Eyes were drawn to the walkway across the building, where a small, black clad figure stood.

Her arms carried a orchid bouquet as her eyes rested upon the door of the Laundry Room. Even from his view point, John saw they were red lined and filled with exhaustion. He watched as one small paw reached to stroke the delicate petals of the only rose within the bunch. It’s rich crimson stood stark against its green and white backdrop.

With a deep inhale, he watched Sandra Lapinet cross the street, vanishing briefly from his sight. When she reappeared, it was without the flowers and fresh tears falling down her face. She visibly gathered herself, breathing deep before turning slowly and continuing on her way.

“Bunnyburrow,” John said suddenly.

Francine looked over at him, her eyebrows quirked at the statement.

“What?”

“Bunnyburrow,” he repeated turning to her. Striding over to his beloved wife, he took her paws and looked into her eyes. “My love, it won’t be any easier there. But it’ll be open and clean. It’ll be away from everything and we can try to grow things, try to live off the land. It’s green and it’s quiet and it’ll give us the opportunity to raise our child without fearing for our safety.

“My cousin’s last letter said he and his family will be in there within a week. I shall met him and secure a place. Then when our child is born we can take our leave of Zootopia.”

A shaky nod confirmed the plan. Pulling his wife into his arms, John held her close.

Please, he prayed, to whomever is listening, please! Let Bunnyburrow give us the peace we need and the life our kit deserves.

Please……. …………

“Papa!”

The sharp cry pulled John from his memories. Blinking, his brain began to process where and when he was. With a quick look around, he spotted Nick and Judy running towards him once more. His cousin’s daughter, Skye, was being dragged by her paw, curtesy of his son. And even more curiously, a small striped bunny was being dragged behind her.

“Skye snuck a friend onto the grounds!” Nick skidded to a stop in front of his father, Skye and the strange kit nearly crashing into him.

“And he’s from Salamandastron!” Squeaked Judy. She was jumping up and down with excitement, grinning at the unfamiliar bunny. “He’s a hare from Salamandastron! It’s really real!”

John laughed as he looked from the bright happy faces of his son and Judy to the darker expressions of the two they were shouting about.

“I’m guessing there’s a very interesting story here,” he said once his laughter was under control.

Giving a quick glance up at the sky and noting that it was close to midday, his tools were set aside as he hopped down from the plants he was tending to. Still grinning, he gazed down at his kit with affection. A reached out the ruffle the fur between his ears, making the little todd laugh as he tried to duck away.

“Well, nothing better for a good story than a cup of tea.” That brightened the faces of the little vixen and hare. Nick and Judy gave shouts of delight before taking off back in the direction of the Wilde’s cabin, . “Come along, you two. Before that pair gobbles up all the goodies!”

Happy brown eyes watched his son race his friend to their new home. Skye and the little stripped hare followed at a slower pace the pair speculating on her parents’ reaction to their unknown traveling companion. A feeling of contentment settle over the todd, something that had eluded his small family for quite some time.

The Wildes were exactly where they needed to be.

And Nick, still running as fast as he could, flashed a grin at the bunny next to him. She grinned back, nearly making him stumble as she pulled ahead.

I shall marry you one day, he thought, still grinning, full of excitement, and happy to be alive. ………….

A/N: In researching the meaning behind flowers, one interesting website (teleflora.com) stated to give orchids to the deceased is to say “I will always love you”. Paired with the colors pink or white, they also denote sympathy.

Individual, crimson roses in a bouquet symbolize undying love for the dearly departed and deep sorrow at their passing.

#zootopia #wildehopps #nick wilde #judy hopps #orginstories

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saskiel · 6 years

Text

Kaylin Galanodel

This is the background story for my cleric elf in a 5e dnd campaign lead by my boyfriend. We’ve had quite a long break and when we started (almost two years ago) it was my first proper campaign. I wasn’t all that happy with my previous character so he allowed me to make a new character.

My previous character was also a cleric and I wanted to keep that, although she has a different domain that she answers to.

As per usual, please excuse any grammar mistakes. I had no beta and English is not my native language.

Now, on with the story :)

You wake up, your head is pounding and your back feels stiff as if you didn’t move in a while. Slowly your eyes crack open and you take a look around you. Not much too see, other than flickering light from a small fire nearby and figure sitting on the other side of it. You, being the lowlife that you are, have been to plenty of smelly caverns to be able to recognize one. Even the wet feeling is here to confirm your theory.

As you try to flex your muscles to relief them a bit, you notice that your hands are tied very securely as well as your ankles. Your movement, however small it has been, has attracted the attention of the person still partially hidden in the shadows.

“Finally awake I see, I was starting to think that I hit your head a little too much and you were gonna die.” She says as she moves closer to the flames, giving you a better idea of who captured you.

Because at this point there is no doubt in your mind that that is exactly what is happening here. Hell, you’ve been the one sitting as leisurely as this woman is many times prior to this. You never thought that the places would be reversed.

“Who are you and what do you want from me? My comrades can pay you money if that’s what you are after.” Your voice is a little rough from the lack of using it for God knows how long, but you manage.

She only smiles. You are not sure if you imagined it, but there was a sadness to it. One thing is for sure, you never looked at your victim in such a way and it puzzles you a little.

“No money can give me back what you’ve stolen from me. As for your comrades, they will never even find you.” She turns her head to the side. Before she continues in a very soft voice.

“We are, after all, very alone here.”

Your buddies would often make fun of you when it came to the bravery. He’s a little scaredy-cat, they’d say, sometimes they’d make clucking noise behind your back. You were starting to understand when you felt your heartbeat rise up, panic gripping at you.

“I’ll give you anything you want, I will do anything you want - just let me go.” Although it comes out in a little higher pitch than you’d have liked, you needed to get out of this situation – fast.

For a little while, there has been no sound other than the cracking and hissing of the wood being burned. A small twig let out a loud pop and broke down to two charred pieces, falling to the ash bellow them. A tiny puff of dust rose from the bottom, only to be ignited instantly, making it look like there were fireflies. The moment seemed to stretch to infinity and you were about to start begging for your life when she finally nodded her head.

“Fine, I’ll let you leave, if you will hear my story. It would seem my life is about to change again and there is no one that I can talk to about it. After that, you’ll be free, I give you my word.” The woman speaks slowly as if she was still deciding her words.

You find it a little strange but decide not to look in the mouth of a gift horse and you dip your head eagerly.

She takes off her hood and you see the pointy ears, peaking out of her dark hair. If you weren’t sure before, now you know with certainty, that your captor is an elf. She takes a deep breath and her gaze is pointed at the dancing flames. Then, without any announcement, she starts talking again.

“My parents aren’t bad people. They are good citizens of the city they live in and they have been making money with their trades for many years now. But, as it usually is, they were afraid of the unknown.

“I was their firstborn child, nearly two and half centuries ago. We’ve been a happy family. My father used to spoil me rotten and my mother would chastise him for it, although just for show, as she’d slip me the best piece of meat from the dinner without father noticing.” She smiles fondly, and although she’s sitting not even two meters away from you, you get the feeling that she is not truly here with you.

“Ever since I was a child, I was always curious about the world, but my parents insisted that I am too young to go anywhere on my own. It’s true that I was young and naïve, but back then, I detested them for not allowing me what I wanted. Did you ever felt like that with your parents?” Her eyes bore into yours.

You, not exactly sure what answer she’s fishing for, hesitantly shake your head. Sure, your parents would forbid things to you all the time, but in the end, that wasn’t the reason you left home. Seeing your answer, your captor makes a grimace that is closest described as a grin.

“Guess you got that going for you. But with time, even I understand that my parents were not wrong. When I started showing an affinity for magic, they had me attend our community church, as we were lucky enough to have few priests and even clerics who were tired of traveling and stayed in our city.

“I was making very slow progress with spells, but Dragor, a dwarf cleric, was very patient with me. Almost three times my age, I knew he saw something of himself in me. I was always thirsty for his stories of his adventures and his ability to heal was second to no one I’ve ever met. We had good times, Dragor and me. But then the war broke and he was called to arms.” The elf’s face saddens. Although you don’t particularly care, you are just listening so that you’d be released, you can’t completely shake the feeling of empathy.

“I begged that old fool to take me with him. But he stood with my parents and denied me, just as they did. I remember being so angry with him, so much that it made my blood boil and my head was spinning. In pure rage, I hit him with my fist. It wasn’t such a hard punch, but he yelped in pain. I felt it then, the power surging through me. My parents who were witnessing this exchange started yelling at me to apologize, but I did not even hear them. I saw that look that Dragor was giving me and at that moment I understood that he knew. I turned on my heel and I ran away to the woods, voices of my parents silently echoing behind my back.

“When I returned the next morning, Dragor was already dead. Priests said that he died in the night.”

The woman stays silent for a while as if she’s collecting her thoughts. You don’t dare to say anything, just shifting uncomfortably in your spot, thinking that your back will start cramping soon probably. When she continues her story again, her voice sounds a little harder than it did before.

“Everyone thought that old age got to him, but my parents saw what happened and they knew it wasn’t the case. They never said anything to anyone, but they stopped speaking to me after that. And in just a few days, I woke up to an empty house. On the table was a letter that they can’t be around me and that if I want things to stay secret, I will leave them alone.

“For the first time in my existence, I agreed with them. That did not stop me from finding them, though. It was not hard, even without any proper experience of an adventurer, I knew plenty of tracking from Dragor. They got themselves a pretty house in Cedos, a lot bigger city than where we used to live. It hurt, but I was happy for them.

“Being all grown up now, I decided to take Dragor’s call to arms and joined the army. I knew some fighting, but what the dwarf taught me the most was healing. I was very valued, being switched from regiment to regiment. Soon after I started building a reputation for myself and I was climbing up the ranks. I am not gonna lie to you, some of those were because of man in a higher position who missed the flesh of a woman. I didn’t mind.”

Once again, she is silent for a while. When she opens her mouth again, her voice is almost void of emotions.

“I was colonel of the third regiment. I led my men to the battle of Dara’Gool.”

It takes you a second, but you remember that the battle of Dara’Gool happened almost a century ago, way before you were even born. But it is a story that gives chills to anyone even to this day. It was one of the bloodiest and messiest battles in the whole war. One, which almost lost the war for you all.

She pulls out something from below her cloak. The flames reflect on an old necklace on a chain.

“This belonged to my second in command. I should not have survived that bloodshed, but he made sure I did. To this day I hear the screams of my men.” She puts the trinket back where she took it from.

“It is not like there were any official records, but everyone thought I was dead. There were too many bodies to do a proper search in any case. I did what I knew best and I fled, like a coward, again. I wanted to see my parents and beg them for forgiveness. But I found them with another child. I had a sister. I knew that I could not possibly bring my old problems back to them, they seemed so happy. So I wandered around the world, mostly in solitude, helping out for a few silver pieces to be able to afford food and a bed. I never stayed long in one place, always feeling like I had to move forward.

“About four decades ago I stumbled upon a group of mercenaries. For a second I thought I was a ghost. There was a dwarf with them who looked just like my old friend, Dragor. I could not help myself and I asked them if I could share a meal with them. They just got their pay from a bounty they had captured so being in a good mood they did not even hesitate.”

Your captor looks down at her nails, looking lost in thoughts again. You are uncertain about what she might be thinking about, but your eyes roam around her form. She’s sitting down, so it’s little harder to tell how tall she might be, but you are guessing she is probably smaller than you. The flames are creating shadows on her coppery skin. Her hair falls loosely to her shoulders and it looks like there is a red sheen to it. You can’t be too sure, it might just be the fire playing tricks on you. It’s definitely dark though. Her eyes are reflecting the light just fine and they sparkle just like the emerald ring that your comrade stole from a noblewoman not too long ago. You pawned it for a good money.

Before you can notice anything more, she starts talking again, as if remembering that there was a story to be told.

“They were a merry bunch, you know. Always up to something and taking jobs that no one else would. I offered them my healing services and they took me in. Together we were called the Sick Ponies. For a time I felt like I had a family again. Whenever I had the chance, I would go and check up on my actual family as well as my sister. She was growing into a beautiful woman. Although she didn’t know I even existed, I was proud of her. Sometimes I would pass by her in the market, just to be close to her. She never even once turned and looked at me.

“Then, slowly, people in our party either retired or died. You can’t save everyone, you know? But we had a good run. Made a lot of money and spend probably even more, somehow. I learned a lot while traveling with them. But never once I told them about Dragor. Never once I explained why I would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming. Never once I mentioned Dara’Gool.

“Just a few years ago, I’ve heard about my little sister also choosing the adventurous life. You cannot imagine how happy and excited for her I’ve been. It has taken me a while, but I’ve tracked her down. And you know what? I felt like maybe it was time to tell her everything. That I’m her sister and try to forge a bond with her that would last our lives. She was traveling with a group named Team Pink Rocket.”

You get the sense that you’ve heard that name before. After all, such a ridiculous name is hard to forget, but you can’t really place it. On top of that, you are starting to lose feeling in your legs from your sitting position.

Your captor slowly stands up, just so that she can crouch in front of you. The fire is now behind her back and you can immediately feel the loss of warmth, but that doesn’t let you down, because she is probably almost done with her story and you will be released soon.

“I was so proud to see my little sister being a strong and powerful cleric, nothing can elder sibling make happier than to see that similarity. She looked just like a younger version of me. Now, I need you to focus. Imagine getting ready to share all of this with your sister, which you’ve loved even if you never spoke to her. Imagine finding a perfect gift for her as a token for her forgiveness for all the time lost. And then imagine seeing her dead by such a lowlife such as yourself.”

She almost spits out the last sentence and you are no longer certain if the loss of heat is because of her blocking the flames, or if there is chill emanating from her. Whichever it is, you have a very bad feeling about this and you try to squirm, as if trying to get further away from her, but your legs no longer cooperate with you.

“Her name was Shi’Larra Galanodel and you were the one who plunged a dagger into her heart.”

You now remember where you’ve heard the crazy name before. You know of whom she’s speaking about. Your eyes go wide with recognition and you want to scream, but just as you open your mouth, she swiftly covers it with her hand.

“Now, screaming won’t do you any good. I told you already, we are very alone here. I also gave you my word that you will be free. And I intend to keep my word.”

Then, you feel it. Where her skin touches yours. She is draining your life force.

Petrified, you can only stare into her green eyes.

You remember the ring again, the one that you pawned for a good coin. You think of Mad Peter, the one who stole the ring, making a clucking noise behind your back. Your memories also take you back to your parents, who wanted you to be a carpenter and marry Eva from the neighbors.

Or maybe Daisy, she was the daughter of the major. You are thinking that life with Daisy probably wouldn’t be that bad. You can feel your life slowly slipping away from you, but you can only think of Daisy. You’d work at your workshop during the day and in the evening she’d have a hot soup ready for you. She’d kiss you on your lips and thanked you for your hard work. Then you’d make love to her in a bed that you’ve made for her, as a wedding gift. You’d be happy.

A tear escapes from your eye, sliding down your cheek and touching the hand that is still clasped over your mouth. Two pricy, emerald rings are starring back at you - they are also crying. That’s foolish, rings can’t cry. You’d never make Daisy cry. You’d be good to her.

You no longer see the elf pull her hood back and douse the fire. You don’t hear her whisper “Life for a life.” She just turns around, after picking her things up, and leaves. Soon after there is a loud thunder noise, which people from the nearby city will simply think of as an approaching storm. As the entrance to the cave gives in, the body inside slowly getting cold, a lone figure sets on a journey to find Team Pink Rocket. She would honor her sister’s life by standing in her place. It is her duty as an older sibling. She will also find out whoever was behind the death of her sister and lay waste to them.

#dnd character #elf cleric #background story #5th edition #dungeons and dragons

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loarlovestv-blog · 6 years

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Summary: “They were there, finally. Alex was near and they were rushing to find her. The clock was still ticking.” Or, Soulmate AU taking place at the end of 2x19 “Alex”

Notes: I’m a sucker for soulmate au and there isn’t enough for sanvers so this is my contribution. After 3x05 I think we needed something like that, so this is why the editing was a bit rushed. I apologize for any mistake.

______________

They were there, finally. Alex was near and they were rushing to find her. The clock was still ticking.

Maggie faltered. Pain was blooming in her chest and after a few seconds became so overwhelming that she fell on her knees and let out heartbreaking cry. It felt like her heart had been ripped out of her ribcage and she couldn’t breath. She couldn’t stop the tears from flooding her cheeks.

Supergirl immediately turned around and blue eyes automatically searched for injuries. “Maggie! What’s wrong?”

“My chest… Hurt…”

The hero lifted the cop’s shirt and gasped when she saw the eerily blue mark, that couldn’t be mistaken for a bruise, expending from her heart over the left side of her ribcage. Kara have been on Earth long enough to know what that meant; Maggie’s soulmate was dead.

Her thoughts jumped to her sister. Did that mean…? Before she had time to unravel, Maggie gripped her forearms with her strong, calloused hand. “Alex… Go. Find her. Please…”

Supergirl rose on her feet and reluctantly left her sister’s sobbing girlfriend behind her. Alex’s time was up. But the Danvers sisters always fought to the last second. Alex would never give up, so Kara wouldn’t either.

When she finally found her, floating limply in the overflowing tank, eyes closed and deathly pale, she almost did. Her knees almost buckled under the weight of grief assaulting her. But she refused to accept this was the end. It wasn’t over yet. So she powered through the haze of her chaotic emotions and ran straight to the tank with a gust of super-speed and punched the glass. It broke easily and water came rushing through the hole, as did her Alex’s limp body.

Kara moved her sister away from her glass prison to a somewhat dry spot.

Maggie stumbled into the room and froze at the sight. She screamed her girlfriend’s name while she ran toward the Danvers girls, and crawled the last few feet when her legs gave out.

Her hands immediately reached out, looking for a sign of life, a pulse, anything. Alex’s chest was still and her skin cold to the touch.

Only years of training and sheer grit allowed her to keep an apparence of calm and to be collected enough to jump in action. After maneuvering Alex’s body from Kara’s arms to the flat concrete floor, she began CPR.

After what felt like eternity, Alex coughed and spat water and took lungfull of oxygen.

At the same moment, Maggie felt the agonizing pain in her heart dull and start receding. She sagged in relief and took her gasping girlfriend in her arms, desperate to feel her close and alive.

“You held on,” she cried, almost disbelievingly.

“I held on,” Alex confirmed.

It was a bit of a lie, they both knew. Alex Danvers has been gone. But Maggie brought her back. That was what mattered.

The three women clung to each other; none of them wanted to break physical contact now that they were reunited, now that they were all breathing.

The next hour was a blur as DEO agents filled the place, Alex was transported to HQ and examined by medical while Maggie and Kara were debriefed by J'onn.

Alex had fallen asleep the moment the last doctor had left her room and was already deep in a dreamless slumber when her girlfriend was allowed to see her. The sight of her sleeping girlfriend roused her turmoil again as it was too close of the memory of her lifeless body. She tried to remind herself that Alex was breathing now, tried to follow the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, but it wasn’t enough. She had to turn away.

As she looked absently through the medbay window, her mind went back to the unbearable pain she had felt in her chest. She placed her palm where still resided a dull ache. She peeked under the collar of her shirt to see the blue mark marring her brown skin, from her collarbone and downward, disappearing under her bra.

Like every human on this planet, she knew it meant her soulmate had died. They had died while she was frantically searching for her girlfriend. Who was drowning. Who had drowned.

She had heard of stories of people whose soulmate had died and had been resuscitated. The pain and the mark were supposed to be permanent in the exception of those rare instances where their soulmate came back to life.

Her own pain had dulled and she could swear her mark was paler than before.

It didn’t take a detective to put two and two together.

“Hey you.” Maggie turned around to see her girlfriend awake. God, how she had missed seeing those beautiful eyes.

“Hey…”

“Are you okay?” Because, of course Alex would enquire about her well-being just after being being abducted and almost dying. Typical Badass Danvers.

“Am I okay? Are you kidding? That was really clever, with the whole Navy Seal thing with your pants. What was that?”

“Well, I knew I just had to buy a couple seconds. I knew you were coming.”

Maggie didn’t tell her that a couple of second hadn’t been enough, that Kara and she had came too late.

“You didn’t let me finish before, but I, um… I just really have to say it now.” Alex rose on her elbows.

“Alex, careful…” Maggie helped her girlfriend to sit up, mindful of her battered body.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Alex took a deep, fortifying breath and looked into Maggie’s eyes. “Okay. Those firsts that you talked about I want to have them all with you. I never want to stop having firsts with you. I love you, Maggie Sawyer.”

“I love you, Alex Danvers.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

God, they probably were having matching dopey smile but they couldn’t care less, because they were in love and were loved back.

“Alex, I have something to tell you. Nothing bad!” she added at the agent’s panicked look. “It’s just… Just before we rescued you, my chest started to hurt. I… I felt my soulmate die.”

“Oh Maggie, I’m so sorry…”

“No, no, sweetie, that’s the thing. My soulmate… I’m pretty sure my soulmate’s still alive. It stopped hurting as bad when you started breathing again.”

“You- you mean?…”

“Yeah, Alex, you. You’re my soulmate.”

“You know, I’m not surprised. I always felt it, that you were special.”

“You’re getting soft on me, Danvers?”

“Pshht, like you’re not. You’re the biggest softie I know. But, yeah, I think we hit our quota of mushy-ness for the day. Help me out of this bed.”

“Alex…”

“You know you’re not winning this conversation, so just help me.”

“I can’t believe I found more hard-headed than me and that I love that woman anyway.”

“That’s why we’re soulmates, Babe.”

Facing Kara, after everything that went down and now that they weren’t rushing to save Alex, felt strange. But it was exactly why she had to say it.

“I need to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“I was so afraid of losing her that I wasn’t thinking. And I almost…”

“Yeah, but you did the right thing. And that was all you. All I did was remind you of everything you’ve been telling me the whole time.”

“You and me made a pretty good team, didn’t we?” Maggie remembered the last time (the first time) she said that to one of a Danvers sisters. Just after Alex had patched her up for the first time. It had been Maggie who had been abducted then. And Agent Danvers had sneaked into the old foundry and into her life and she had saved her in more way than one. Funny how the universe works sometimes.

“Well, we both love her.” Love. Yes, they did. And Alex finally had uttered the three words to her, and Maggie had said them back and it had only been a few minutes ago but it felt like they had always been there, a silent, absolute truth between them.

“Yeah.” Maggie offered her hand to shake, but Kara shot her an incredulous look.

“What? No, get in here.” And Maggie was suddenly wrapped into the strong, warm arms of the Kryptonian and she couldn’t help but positively beam.

Kara released her and looked at her seriously. “You’re my sister’s soulmate, aren’t you?” Maggie nodded, still smiling brightly. “Well, if you weren’t family before, you sure are now.”

Maggie willed herself not to tear up but it was a losing battle. “I don’t think you understand how much that means to me, Kara.”

“And I don’t think you understand how much that means to me, seeing Alex in love and happy and loved. I’ve seen her sacrifice so much and now she finally has someone who would risk everything to protect her. Don’t get me wrong, I would do the same, but I’ll always be little sister in her eyes.”

“it’s a different dynamic. Alex’s feel responsible for you so you’ll never be equal.”

“What are you two talking about?” Alex asked as she sneaked both arms around her girlfriend’s waist.

“You.” Maggie turned around and caressed Alex’s cheek tenderly before giving her a peck.

“Nothing bad I hope.”

“All good things, I swear. Okay let’s get you home. Maybe I’ll manage to make you rest in exchange of cuddles.”

“Mmh, sounds like a deal. I love cuddles.”

They were beyond exhausted when they finally stumbled home. They made their way straight to the bedroom area and Maggie helped Alex sitting on the bed. She turned away to look for nightwear but she was stopped by a hand grabbing her forearm. She turned around again to be met by Alex’s pleading eyes.

“Please, I need you.”

Maggie sighed. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want to make love to her girlfriend all night long but she had to be reasonable. “Alex… We’re exhausted. We-”

“No, I know. I know. I just need to feel you, to feel your skin. Please?”

“Okay, but just cuddles.”

“Just cuddles.”

They helped each other out of their clothes and Alex’s breath hitched when she saw the blue mark on her girlfriend’s left breast. She touched it with trembling fingers. Emotions she wouldn’t be able to name were bubbling in her chest and she felt her throat constrict.

“It’s starting to fade, I think. The pain is almost gone now. I’m fine. We’re both fine. And safe. We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

Alex’s body shook with the strength of her sobs. Maggie made her best to gather her in her arms while she whimper into the crook of her neck. They cried for a long time, letting go of the fear and the pain and the agony of being separated.

When the last sob had vanished and the tears had started to dry, leaving a salty dryness to the skin behind, they slipped their tired bodies under the covers. Their limbs interlaced; their hands found each other, finger intertwining.

They clung to each other the rest of the night as they fell into slumber at last.

#sanvers #supergirl #alex danvers #maggie sawyer #kara danvers #soulmate au #my fic

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haywarde37 · 7 years

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Containment

Day One

As they’re taken to separate rooms, Mulder strains to catch one last glimpse of Scully. She tries to look back at him but the nurses push her forward and she stumbles.

“I’m sorry, ma'am,” he hears one say before the door slides shut behind him. His own army of nurses stop him from running back to her.

“Scully!”

Mulder flails, trying to break free. They can’t take her, not again. Someone calls for a sedative.

“Don’t take her,” he pleads. Is this what Scully saw after she was taken? Strange men in surgical gowns, their faces obscured by masks? Was this Samantha’s fate too?

A needle pierces the tender skin of his neck, seeking his carotid artery. The injection turns his bones to lead and his muscles to jelly. He loses all control over his body and falls to the floor.

Please don’t take her.

XxX

Scully is asked to remove her clothing so it can be burned. She shrugs her top off and lets it fall to the cold linoleum floor. Her shoes go next, then her skirt. A dozen strangers watch her strip until she’s standing in just her bra and panties.

Most have the decency to advert their gaze when she unsnaps her bra but one man stares at her breasts hungrily. He eyes her puckered nipples, the dark line of her areola. His mask moves like he’s licking his lips.

A woman steps forward, obscuring Scully’s body from the man’s predatory stare. There’s a protective fierceness in her eyes.

“Boys,” the woman says, “I can take it from here.”

The voyeur clears his throat. “Are you sure Doctor Honeycutt? We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

“What we’re “dealing” with right now is a decontamination shower and Agent Scully doesn’t need all of you ogling at her tits. Go jack off to a fucking Playboy, Hart.“

“Bitch,” Hart hissed but leaves. The others follow but not before Scully takes off her panties. They snatch the sweat soaked cloth from the floor along with the rest of her clothes. She feels like a cheap whore.

Doctor Honeycutt leads her to the showers. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Agent.”

“Dana. Call me Dana.”

“I’m sorry then, Dana. Quarantine is notoriously dehumanizing but my men make it ten times worse.” She hands her a bar of soap and turns on the shower head. Scalding water beats against Scully’s face, burning her skin. “I’ve complained about them before to the higher ups but all they get is a slap on the wrist.”

Scully tries scrubbing away the shame. “Fuck men.”

“Well, not all of them are bad,” Doctor Honeycutt says with a slight smile. “That partner of yours—Fox?—he seems nice. I know he’s giving Doctor Lawrence hell.”

“He has that effect with authority.”

“My kind of man.”

“Can I see him?”

Doctor Honeycutt shakes her head.

Scully sighs. “I thought as much.”

Day Three

“He’s problematic when he’s bored. Give him something to do.”

Doctor Honeycutt eases the needle from Scully’s arm. This was the second blood test this morning. “Does he read?”

“Not unless it has pictures. Of the nude variety.”

“This is why I don’t do men.”

Scully watches Doctor Honeycutt organizes the vials of blood, catching Mulder’s name among them. So far, neither have shown any adverse effects but they still weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Actually, there’s is one book he might read.”

XxX

“Moby Dick?”

Mulder stares at the book Doctor Honeycutt gave him. It’s brand new. The binding cracks when he opens it.

“Dana said you might like it.”

He grins. Maybe she doesn’t hate him after all.

Day Seven

“I die and you make love to another woman?”

Scully pins Mulder against her bed, straddling his hips. His naked cock nudges her bare belly. He groans. Her skin is so smooth, so soft and everything smells like her. He feels safe beneath her. Kristen was fear and madness personified in a breasty brunette. Scully is sharp wit and anger but ultimately love and understanding.

“I fucked her to forget you but it didn’t work. She touched your necklace, tried to take it off and I couldn’t let her. It’s all I had left of you.”

She sinks down onto his cock and oh God, she may be pissed but her body wants him. “That’s sick, Mulder.”

“I know,” he admits, “but I realized I loved you, Scully. And I’d never get the chance to tell you.”

“Mulder…I love you too.”

“Love you…”

“Mulder.”

“Love you too, Scully.”

“Agent Mulder!”

Doctor Honeycutt stands in front of him, a tray of food in hand. She glances down at his groin where a full blown erection is straining against the lounge pants they’d given him.

“Shit!” He covers himself with his hands and groans when he feels that the cotton is damp with precome. “I’m sorry.”

Doctor Honeycutt snorts and produces a travel pack of tissues from her pocket. “Must have been a good dream.

He takes the tissues. “You have no idea, Doc.”

Day Ten

”You had sex with Fox?“

“Shhsh!” Scully hisses into the receiver. She’s alone in her plastic bubble but Melissa’s words seem to echo. The last thing she needs is for that creep Hart to hear her talking about sex with her sister.

“I knew it!” Melissa sings and Scully hopes to God their mother isn’t in earshot. “I knew you two had a connection from the moment I met him, Dana. I bet he insisted on pleasing you first. A little oral loving maybe? I’ve seen him eat sunflower seeds. That tongue of his could turn me straight.”

“Missy! Be serious!”

“I am, Dana. Tell me what his tongue was like. Did you come?”

Scully lies down on her creaky cot with a sigh. “No, I didn’t come.”

“That bastard.”

“It’s not like that, I just didn’t give a chance to touch me. I’m sure if I stayed a moment longer, he would’ve gotten my pants around my ankles and done his best to give me an orgasm.”

“Dana, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“That I jacked off my partner in the unisex bathroom of a government building? Because, yes, I did and I feel like shit because of it.”

Scully stares at the ultraviolet lights above her until it hurts her eyes. They’re meant to kill any and all germs, maybe they can kill regret too.

“What did he do?” Melissa eventually asks.

“He slept with another woman while I was…gone.” She hates herself for letting her voice waver, for letting him have this effect on her.

“Oh, Dana…sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Pressure builds behind her eyes but she doesn’t allow the tears to fall. “It okay. He can sleep with whoever he wants.” I just thought it’d be me.

She turns on to her side, feeling like a med student again. How many times did she call Melissa to talk about Daniel? How many times did she swear to her sister she’d leave that man only to fall in bed with him again?

“Was it all in my head, Missy?”

“I don’t think so. The way Fox looked at you while you were comatose, it was with utter heartbreak. His world fell apart when they disconnected the ventilator.”

“Then why fuck another woman?”

“Because grief clouds our judgment. We go mad when we can’t accept we’ve lost someone. We seek out strangers to forget our pain.”

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him, Dana, but you have to at least try to understand him. We all make mistakes.”

“Like sleeping with a married man.”

“Or letting your father die thinking you hated him.”

“Missy,” Scully warns, “don’t do that to yourself. Dad knew you loved him.”

“But I’m not sure I loved him, Dana. He beat me. What father does that?”

Scully remembers that winter day. It was a week before Christmas and Melissa and her friend, Molly were baking cookies. Melissa had kissed away a bit of flour from Molly’s lips and Bill Jr. tattled to Ahab. He brought out the switch that night against Maggie’s pleas not to, saying such an abomination could not go unpunished.

“You have every right to feel that way, Melissa.”

“Don’t “Melissa” me. I’m the one giving the pep talk.“

Scully smiles. “Alright. I’ll give Mulder another shot for you.”

“Don’t do it for me. Do it for that tongue.”

Day Twelve

"Tell her she’s a sadomasochistic for enjoying where everyone dies.” Mulder pauses to shovel more lime jello into his mouth. It’s unbearably sour but at least it has a taste. The gruel they feed him is just glorified raw oats and Elmer’s glue. “And reminder her that I have a degree in psychology.”

Beneath her papery mask, Doctor Honeycutt smiles. “They say Catcher in the Rye is the book serial killers identify with, not Moby Dick.”

“Hey, I’m the psychology major here. You hotshot doctors think you know all about brains just because you’ve dissected them but you didn’t sit through a three hour lecture on the differences between psychopaths and sociopaths.”

“Alright, Ishmael, I’ll relay your message.”

Day Fourteen

Doctor Honeycutt takes off her mask today, revealing a beautiful face. Her skin is dark and elegant, her lips dainty. When she smiles, it makes Scully forget the two weeks of boredom she’s endured.

"Congratulations, Dana. My team of imbeciles has finally confirmed you’re not contagious.”

Stir craziness, cabin fever, prairie madness—impulsivity is a hallmark symptom of these conditions. The dangerous cocktail of boredom and elation is what Scully blames for kissing Doctor Honeycutt on that old movie star mouth of hers.

“Mmph,” is all the doctor manages before Scully pulls away. Her kisses are like lightning. There and gone. If a lover is worth her time, they’ll chase her retreating lips. Doctor Honeycutt doesn’t.

But she does smile. “Most patients hit me when I give them the news. Stress relieve or something of that nature.”

Scully crosses her arms under her breasts, pushing them upwards. She hasn’t wore a bra in fourteen days. “When will Agent Mulder and I be discharged?”

“The CDC is still pushing for thirty days but I may be able to spring you out the day after tomorrow.”

“Do I want to know what you’ll need to do to make that happen?”

“The brass owes me a few favors.” She unzips the plastic door and like Moses parting the Red Sea for the Israelites, Scully’s free. “Would you like to turn the facilities?”

From a scientist’s point of view, Doctor Honeycutt’s lab is a wonderland of mass spectrometers, centrifuges and a dozen other machines Scully doesn’t recognize. If she wasn’t so lightheaded, she’d have paused and admired the fact a group of scientists were studying her DNA.

As Doctor Honeycutt babbles on about silicon-based Cordyceps, Scully searches for that familiar, ungainly man, finding him puttering around the back of the lab. He’s barefoot like her, dressed in formless beige pajamas. She rushes forward and hugs him.

"Whoa there, Red. I’ve still got quarantine legs.”

Without her heels, there’s a nine inch difference between them so Mulder’s arms wrap awkwardly around her neck, pressing her face against his sternum. She doesn’t mind though. The musky scent of his skin is a welcomed change from lab’s sterile air.

He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and she shivers at the intimacy of the gesture.

“Cold, Scully?”

“Not in the slightest.” She reaches up to touch his chin. “You need a shave.”

Mulder leans down to rub his scratchy beard against her cheek. She giggles, drunk on their reunion.

They sleep in the same bed that night, arms and legs intertwined. Doctor Honeycutt allows it, saying some old fashioned canoodling would do them good.

Mulder pulls the thin blanket over the both of them and rests his head on her shoulder. Scully shifts to run her fingers through his hair.

"Doctor Honeycutt says you think I’m a sadomasochistic.”

He looks up at her with puppy eyes, wide and full of affection, like she’s the only person that matters. “I don’t think, I know.”

She leans in closer. “All because I like Moby Dick?”

“No.” He tilts his his head even more, so their lips are almost touching. “You like it when things are difficult. You get off on working out problems everyone else gives up on. I’ve seen it, Scully. You cheeks get rosy and eyes glaze over like you’re…” he trails off.

“Like I’m what?”

“Like you’ve just come.”

Mulder’s breath is hot against her lips. He’s moving to kiss her, to atone for his sins in the the only way he knows how but she stops him. Her hand moves from his hair to his mouth, hiding it from her sight as she whispers in his ear.

“I think you get off on a challenge too, Mulder.

Scully’s free hand glides down the plane of his chest, heading southward to his groin. He groans underneath her palm when her fingers slip beneath the spandex of his pants.

A dense patch of springy pubic hair guides her to his cock. He’s as soft and warm as she remembers him to be and his cock seems to remember her too. It twitches, perhaps in preparation to be pinch and tugged again. She rubs his head lovingly, a silent promise that this will not be like last time.

He whimpers when she runs her fingernail along the prominent vein of his underside. She, Dana Scully can make Fox Mulder whimper.

His balls are next. She cups them in the palm of her hand, feeling their weight. With a wicked nip to his ear, she tugs on them.

He jerks, one hand flying to hers at his mouth while shoving the other down her pants. She mewls when he stokes her roughly, her legs spreading against her will to grant him better access.

"We do this together,” he grunts before slipping her index finger into his mouth. She wraps her hand around his cock in response.

Mulder is damn good at pleasing her. Somehow, he knows she needs a mix of penetration and clitoris stimulation to come. He works her hard and fast with his middle finger and thumb and she treats his dick in kind until he moans and comes in his pants.

She’s not far behind. He strokes and sucks like a true gentleman despite the post coital exhaustion in his eyes. That’s when she realizes he wants to see her come. The hand in her pants is not a power play but a genuine attempt to please her.

She could kiss him.

And she almost does but her orgasm stops her. She moans, every muscle tightening before releasing. Dana Scully comes undone at the hands—and mouth—of Fox Mulder.

He presses his lips to the crown of her head and moves to snuggle against her but Scully kicks him in the shin.

“You’re not sleeping in my bed with a pantful of come. Go clean up.”

He groans but sits up. “Can I sleep with you when I’m come-free?”

Scully doesn’t even have to think before she answers.

“Of course.”

#x files #x files fanfic #msr smut #msr fanfic #msr #dana scully #fox mulder #i wrote a thing

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badrpstories · 7 years

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#rp #submission

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mollymauk-teafleak · 7 years

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A Wedding

Angelica Schuyler can’t help but worry about her sister, knowing she’s off travelling all by herself, on her own, without Angelica to keep an eye on her. Anything could happen to her while she’s so far away from her family.

But she wasn’t prepared for this.

This is an AU of @lookatvanessasface‘s and I just had to write it up because it was just so lovely. And she’s been so supportive and lovely recently that goddamnit she deserves a million fics.

Enjoy some fluff!

“Are you drunk?”

That was the first thing Angelica said, after a long, stunned silence. A very long stunned silence. Eliza had been starting to think the phone had dropped the connection.

To be honest, she had been kind of expecting a response like that, “Nope. Perfectly sober.”

“Is this a joke?” Angelica pressed.

“No, it’s not a joke. I wouldn’t joke about this,” Eliza explained patiently, leaning against the wall.

“Are you being held hostage?” her sister demanded.

“What? No!” Eliza laughed a little, shaking her head.

“Has he brainwashed you?”

“No! This isn’t a bad sci fi movie!”

“Are you pregnant?”

“God, Angelica…”

“I’m sorry,” her older sister sounded more confused than defensive, “But you can understand why I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around this, right? Eliza, you’d never even dated anyone in your life then suddenly you go on this self-discovery journey gap year thing and then within a week you’ve met a guy! And now you’re saying you’re going to marry him? In two days?”

Eliza decided to forgive her sister’s choice of words; she was asking a lot of her, after all.

“I did say you should be sitting down before I told you…” she pointed out.

“Eliza,” she could almost picture how her sister was pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “If it was anyone but you saying this, I’d have laughed my ass off and then hung up. Because if it really isn’t a joke, then it’s completely fucking insane!”

“Ange, come on, I need you to trust me on this,” Eliza wheedled gently, using the tone she knew her sister wouldn’t be able to ignore, “You know me, you know I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t completely and utterly sure about it.”

“I know that I just…god, Eliza, I can’t even remember the guy’s name! You’ve mentioned him maybe once or twice? Is there something in the fucking water over there in Puerto Rico?”

Eliza gave a deep sigh, sitting down at the table that took up ninety per cent of the room in the poky flat she rented, “His name is Alexander Hamilton. And I’ve only mentioned him once or twice because I’ve only called once or twice! Because I’ve been spending all my time with him!”

“Yeah, cool, I’m glad you got yourself a nice summer romance but...but marriage Eliza, my god! What the hell are mama and papa going to say?” the exasperation in Angelica’s voice was obvious.

“Nothing. Because they’re not going to find out until it’s too late,” Eliza said firmly, steeling herself. She’d made up her mind about this.

“Sweet fucking Jesus, Eliza. You don’t rebel, you don’t even step out of line for twenty-two years and then suddenly, this?! When you go, you go hard…”

Eliza sighed softly and let her sister rant, though a small smile was growing on her face because she could tell she’d got her. Like she’d pointed out, Angelica trusted her, the Schuyler sisters always trusted each other. Even if the plan seemed insane at first.

As she waited for Angelica’s bluster to run out, she toyed with the ring on her finger, the simple brass one that Alex had told her had been his mother’s. The one he’d held out to her as he knelt in the sand, tears in his eyes and his voice shaking, asking her to marry him. The one he’d slid on her finger with an expression of utter awe and disbelief that she’d actually said yes.

“Angelica? I know what I’m doing,” Eliza said confidently, cutting across her sister’s bewildered babbling.

There was no mistaking that huff of resignation, “…Fine. I still say you’ve got sunstroke or something but me and Peggy will fly out there as early as we can, we’ll just tell mama you were feeling homesick and needed a visit.”

Eliza’s sweet face split into a huge grin, “Thank you, Angie!”

“But I swear to God, Eliza, if I get even a vague feeling that this Alexander or whatever isn’t on the level then all I’m going there to do is drag you back to Albany. Okay?”

Eliza’s smile didn’t falter in the slightest, her confidence was unshakable, “Okay! You won’t, I promise, you’ll love him Angelica, you’ll see…”

There was a small sigh from the other end of the phone, “Well. I always knew there was only ever going to be a handful of people worthy of you. And it sure as hell wasn’t any of the people I’ve met so far so…I guess one of them had to turn up somewhere. Why not there?”

“Why not here…” Eliza repeated, her expression softening dreamily, “There’s something special about him, Angelica. Something really, really special.”

“Well, we’re going to see,” her sister said, “Okay. I’ll see you soon, I suppose. I love you, Liza.”

“I love you, Angie. Thank you so much.”

Eliza let her hand fall and allowed herself a triumphant smile. The only hurdle she cared about had been successfully crossed. Eliza Schuyler had always been a firm believer that things that were supposed to work out would work out. That if something was meant to be, then it would spring to life with a little work and would always be worth it in the end, even if the context seemed a little wonky to some people.

Even saying this, she’d be lying if she said that making that phone call hadn’t worried her a little. Angelica was a cautious person by nature, she always took the path that was safest and made sure her beloved sisters did the same. But she still trusted Eliza, enough to buy a plane ticket at least.

And once she was here, she’d see. She’d understand. Because Eliza and Alex were meant to be together, she knew this as well as she knew that the sky was blue and that water was wet. It was just the way the universe naturally settled itself, like the tides or continental drift or the nuclear forces had pushed them into each other’s arms.

Almost as if he’d heard his cue, Alex wandered out of the bedroom, looking perpetually exhausted as usual, heavy eyes and rumpled hair and still the most beautiful thing Eliza had ever seen. His face lit up when he saw her, when he saw his Betsey, especially with the phone in her hand and the expression on her face.

“It’s okay?” he guessed, hope dawning in his dark eyes, “We’re doing this?”

“We’re doing this,” Eliza confirmed delightedly, suddenly flying into his arms, “We can get married, Alex, this is happening…”

He caught her, pulling her against him in a deep kiss, cradling her face in his hands like all the things he had to say to her just couldn’t be expressed with words.

Because there were some things that even Alexander Hamilton didn’t have words for.

“Are you really, really sure about this?”

Angelica had to ask just one more time, she just had to, although she knew what the answer was going to be and she wasn’t going to argue.

Angelica really had been convinced pretty quickly. As bonkers as it seemed that Eliza could stumble upon the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with while working at a hotel in Nevis for a year, it had been obvious from the moment Eliza and a very nervous Alex met them at the airport that it was the truth. The bonkers, crazy truth.

But still, she was her big sister and she had to ask.

Eliza gave Angelica a soft smile, one of Eliza’s gentle and genuine smiles that made pretty much everyone she met trust and listen to her. As she wound another flower into her hair, she smiled and suddenly Angelica was struck by how much her little sister had grown up.

“I am perfectly and completely sure that I want to marry this man,” Eliza rattled off, just as she had done about fifty times. It was like a mantra between the two of them now.

Now Eliza had a whole grove of the small but beautiful red flowers that littered the wild areas of the island, all woven and plaited into her dark hair. They filled the bathroom (tiny and cramped but homey like the whole of this apartment that Alex and Eliza had been sharing) with a fresh and delicate scent. Something that smelled like promise and hope.

“Well,” Angelica sighed gently, coming up and resting her hand on the small of her sister’s back, gazing at their reflections, “You do look the part. You look beautiful.”

And Angelica meant it, she really did.

Peggy and Angelica, once they’d critically interrogated and put their stamp of approval on Alexander, had launched into action, determined to pull their sister the best and most perfect impromptu, last minute wedding out of thin air. And they’d done a pretty good job. Eliza stood there, wearing a white sundress that barely grazed the top of her knees, holding a bouquet of the sweet smelling long stemmed grasses that fringed the beach, flowers crowning her head and a smile brighter than the Nevis sunset painted across the sky outside.

“Thank you,” Eliza beamed, leaning her head on Angelica’s shoulder. And she didn’t just mean for the compliment.

“Just be careful, okay?” Angelica kisses her cheek.

Eliza gave a small, musical laugh, “Could I ever be careful enough to stop you worrying about me?”

“Oh god, never,” she snorted.

Peggy’s knock on the bathroom door interrupted Eliza’s eye roll, her hair bouncing manically as she poked her head into the room, “Hey, they’re waiting for us. We good to go?”

Eliza and Angelica shared a look.

“Yeah,” the eldest Schuyler said without a pause, “We’re ready.”

The sea had always calmed Alex. So many times, in his short and turbulent life, he’d come down here to this beach and sit on the sand, close his eyes and just listen to the waves. And for a few precious moments he’d find a place where the rest of the world couldn’t reach him, that gentle and rhythmic crashing and the cool sand underneath him would shield him from it. Twelve-year-old Alex had fled here after sprinting away from the hospital, breaking free of the hold of concerned doctors and nurses to come here and sob brokenheartedly. Seventeen-year-old Alex had come here to remind himself that the world hadn’t ripped itself apart, picking his way through rubble and washed out streets to collapse here and realise he was still alive.

And twenty-three-year-old Alex had brought Eliza here on their first date and their second and their third, fourth and fifth. Here they’d made love for the first time. Here he’d told her he loved her, in a shy voice heavy with tears. And here he’d asked her to marry him.

And now he was standing at the shore, in the nicest clothes he owned (the black trousers and white collared shirt he wore as he did any of a million odd jobs and busy work at the resort where he’d met Eliza), waiting to marry the girl he’d only known for a month but already knew he loved more than anything else in the world.

This beach really must have some kind of magic to it, if wild, impossible things like that could happen here. So, it was always going to be Alex’s favourite place in the world, no matter what else had happened.

And so it had felt only fair that this was the place he and Eliza got married, that this whole crazy journey, this thing that must be all of the shit Alex had been through getting made up for and then some, that it ended here. Some kids from the village, the ones that always shouted approval of the music Alex would play as he did his summer yard work jobs, were building a bonfire up the beach. Some of the older villagers, the ones who had known his mother, who he hadn’t even realised had been keeping an eye on him all these years and had been suspiciously enthusiastic when he’d asked them to help with his wedding, they were setting up fairy lights in the palm trees, those that could play instruments were pulling them out, it seemed like every woman on the island had made a dish of food. So many faces Alex had seen nearly every day of his life, as he’d wandered around this island he’d always felt kind of trapped on, faces that had always given him a ‘buenos dias’ as he’d walked past and gotten only a grunt in response, faces that had watched him grow from a sad eyed kid to an angry eyed teenager who had only started to smile when Eliza came to the island. Now they were here and helping him and nudging him and ruffling his hair and wishing him and his bride every happiness and good luck for the future.

Alex wondered why it had taken meeting a girl from halfway around the world to make him realise that this place was his home.

He gave a small cough, straightened his collar and tried to get his hair to smooth down. Eliza was going to be here any second, he should probably try and make himself look presentable.

Alex was scared, he couldn’t deny that, as he heard the shift in the chatter around him that must mean it was time to get this show on the road. But it wouldn’t exactly be the first time he’d been scared on this beach.

But hopefully it would be the best.

Alex didn’t hear a word of the ceremony. From the moment he saw Eliza walking towards him, looking like something from a dream, the rest of the world just wasn’t there for him anymore. All that mattered was her, his Eliza, like she was a candle and everything else was the shadow beyond. Like she was his lighthouse.

He did hear her flawless Spanish as she responded to the priest’s questions. He remembered sitting with her during breaks at work or in the evenings when the power was out and they had nothing to do but sit together and watch the stars and listen to the waves crash against the distant shore as Alex taught her to speak his language, as per her request. She was so clever and so quick, she was holding full conversations with every person they met on the street, every vendor, every colleague.

And she’d done it all because she’d wanted to know how to tell him she loved him in Spanish.

Before the priest had even finished announcing that they could have their first kiss as man and wife, Alex was moving in, his hands at her hips and her lips warm and soft against his own. And everything was good and right.

Alex had never considered himself much of a dancer but once the applause had died down he took Eliza’s hand and the two of them twirled and span across the sand, around the raging bonfire as the sparks kicked up and soared on the sea air, moving and swaying just like they did. Through song after song they danced, almost completely unaware of the party around them. Passing tourists took care of the fact that they hadn’t been able to afford a wedding photographer, so many people happy to take pictures of the young newlyweds, promising to send them on. Eventually the bonfire was nothing but embers, everyone else had trailed back to their homes as the dawn broke over the horizon.

Even Angelica and Peggy decided to leave their sister and their new brother in law to it, seeing them cuddled up together on the shoreline, so the water just lapped at their feet. As the sun rose behind them, they appeared as nothing but one shadow, so tangled up in each other they couldn’t be separated.

Both of them were exhausted, a little overwhelmed, a little scared of what would be waiting for them when they left this beach and went back to the real world. But whatever did happen, they would have each other.

“Te adoro, Eliza,” Alex sighed softly, his voice rasping and his hand wrapping protectively around hers.

Eliza closed her eyes and smiled, “Te adoro, Alexander.”

#ficlet #hamliza #alexander x eliza #I dont even know what to call this #nevis au?#anyway #its cute and romantic #please let me know what you liked!

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

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Relese me chapter 12

“Your father did nothing?” The anger in Stark’s voice is palpable.

“I don’t know my dad. They divorced when I was a baby. He lives somewhere in Europe now. I almost told my grandfather once, but I never quite worked up the courage before he died.”

“That horrific bitch.” He spits out the word, and though I completely agree, I can feel social niceties rising to my lips, as if I have to find excuses for my mother.

I tamp them down. “My sister tried to help.” I smile as I remember the way Ashley used to shine a light under the crack in my door and read me stories until I got sleepy. At least until our mother found out.

“She didn’t have to have her beauty sleep, too?”

“She didn’t win enough, so my mom eventually quit entering her in pageants.” The freedom had given Ashley time. It had given her back her life. I had adored my big sister, who’d always been my guardian angel, but I’d been incredibly jealous, too. I used to think she was the lucky one.

And then she’d killed herself.

I shiver. “I really don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I say.

He doesn’t acknowledge my words, but after a moment he speaks again. “I thought I knew a bit about photography, but I guess I know less than I thought. I always assumed some light was allowed in.”

I glance sideways at him, grateful for his discretion. He’s stepped away from my personal issues with the dark, but kept the thread of our original conversation. “At a certain point in the process, yes,” I say, letting my fears and memories fade under the weight of a subject I love. “And a red or amber safelight is common when making black and white prints because most of the papers are sensitive only to blue or blue-green light. But if you’re working with color like I usually do, then the prints need to be kept in total darkness until they’re properly fixed.”

I shrug. “It’s really not a big deal. Access to a darkroom is expensive and doing your own developing eats up a lot of time. One of these days I’ll get a digital camera, but in the meantime, I send my film out and get back a contact sheet along with all the pictures on disk. Then I sit down and play with the images in my native environment.”

“The computer?” he asks, grinning.

“Ever since I got my first one at age ten,” I confirm. I don’t tell him that the computer was my escape. I could turn it on and tell my mother I was doing homework, then lose myself in games and later in writing my own code. For a week or so, I’d even used the screen as a nightlight, but my mother caught on. My mother never missed a thing.

“Doing photographic work on the computer is like holding magic in your hand,” I say. “I mean, I could take a picture of you and then find stock footage of the surface of the moon and make it look like you’re standing in space.” I grin wickedly. “Or I could put your head on the body of monkey.”

“I’m not sure that would show me off to my best advantage.”

I have to agree. “No, it wouldn’t.”

“That’s one of the apps you have for sale, isn’t it?” he asks.

I blink, surprised he knows about that. I’ve designed, coded, and am selling three smartphone apps across various platforms. I designed them while I was at UT, though not for any particular class. Turns out there’s actually a market for apps that allow you to paste a headshot onto a provided stock animal photo, then share the new image across various social media.

“How did you know about that?” I ask. That app is reasonably popular, but it’s not bringing in so much money that it would be on Stark’s radar.

“I make it a point to know everything I can about the things I care about.” He’s looking at me as he speaks, and there’s no mistaking that he means me and not the app. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Justin never misses a thing, either.

I smile, feeling flattered but also exposed. I can’t help but wonder what other things he knows about me. How deep has he looked? Considering the resources at Justin Stark’s disposal, he could have looked pretty damn deep, and that truism gives me pause.

If he notices my mood this time, he ignores it. “I’ve always thought of science as magic, too,” he says, returning to the thread of our conversation. “Though not just computer science.”

“I was pretty impressed with your questions during the pitch,” I say. His questions had covered the technical aspects of the software design as well as the anatomical components, reflecting an understanding of both tech and basic anatomy. “What did you study in college?”

“I didn’t go to college,” he says. “For that matter, I didn’t go to school. I had private tutors from the time I was ten. My coach insisted, and my father agreed.”

An unfamiliar edge sharpens his voice, and although I want to know more, it’s clear I’ve stumbled upon a sore subject. “So, do you know much about photography?” I ask, grappling for a shift in the conversation. I remember the photos in his reception area. “Did you take the pictures outside your office?”

“I know just enough to be dangerous,” he says lightly, and I’m glad of the change in mood. “And no. I tried to find photos that represent my hobbies. Those are done by a local photographer. He has a studio in Santa Monica, actually.”

“He’s very skilled. His use of contrast and perspective is stunning.”

“I agree, and I’m flattered you thought I might be the photographer.”

I shift in my seat to look at him better. “Well, you are a remarkably talented man. And very full of surprises.”

His decadent grin is pure Justin, promising more surprises to come, and I feel an answering tingle between my thighs.

I drop my eyes and clear my throat. “Your hobbies, huh? So there were photographs of the ocean, some mountains, redwoods, and a bike tire. I’m guessing sailing, skiing, I have no idea, and biking.”

“Not bad. The ocean represents diving and the trees are for hiking. Other than that, you got it right. Any of those appeal to you, Ms. Fairchild?”

“All of them,” I admit. “Although I’ve never tried diving. Not many opportunities in Texas.”

“California has excellent diving,” he says. “Though a wetsuit is a bit cumbersome. I much prefer the warmer waters of the Caribbean. There,” he says, pointing out the window.

It takes me a second to switch gears, but then I see that he’s pointing to Santa Barbara.

“I’ll need to put her into the landing pattern soon, but why don’t you take control for a bit.”

“What?” I clear my throat and try that again without squeaking. “I’m sorry, but what?”

“It’s easy,” he says, releasing his hold on the wheel. He reaches over and takes my hand. The contact burns through me—why do I feel this man’s every touch so intensely? Right then, I wish I didn’t, because he’s putting my hands on the wheel and I’m supposed to keep this plane in the air, and he’s making it really hard to concentrate.

“Oh, fuck,” I say as he lets go of my hand. “Shit, Stark! What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re doing it. Just keep her steady. Push in, we descend. Pull out, we climb. Go ahead, pull out gently.”

I do nothing.

He laughs. “Go on. Give it a try.”

This time I do, and then gasp with pleasure as the plane responds to my command.

“I like that sound,” Justin says. “I think I need to hear that sound on the ground.” He puts his thumb on my cheek and strokes it softly. This time, I try very hard not to make a sound. “There you go, baby. Okay, steady it out.”

His hand grazes down my neck and rests on my shoulder. He squeezes it lightly. “Good job.”

My breathing is coming fast, and I’m not sure if it’s the exhilaration from the flight or from the man. “I am flying,” I say. “I am really flying.”

“Yes,” he says. “And you will again.”

We’re the only guests on the terrace dining area at the Santa Barbara Pearl Hotel on Bank Street. We’re just a few blocks from the ocean, and from where we sit, we can see the pier at Stearns Wharf and, in the distance, the Channel Islands rising like sea creatures from the water.

I’m sipping a white chocolate martini, and I’m pleasantly full after a lunch of raw oysters and stuffed salmon. “This is amazing,” I say. “How did you find this place?”

“It wasn’t difficult,” he says. “I own the hotel.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised. “Is there anything you don’t own, Mr. Stark?”

He reaches out and takes my hand. “At the moment, everything I want is mine.”

I take a sip of the martini to hide my reaction.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Fairchild. I take very good care of the things I own.”

My cheeks flush, and I’m suddenly very aware of my body, especially the parts below my waist. I savor the feeling, because the truth is that I’m a little afraid he’s going to want to back out of our deal once he gets a full view of the condition of the merchandise.

A man in a tailored suit steps onto the terrace and approaches us. He’s carrying a white shopping bag, which he hands to Justin. “This just arrived for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Thank you, Richard.”

As Richard leaves, Justin passes me the bag. “I believe this is for you.”

“Really?” I put the bag in my lap, peer into it, and gasp. It’s a Leica, shiny and new.

I look to Justin and see his wide, delighted grin. “You like? It’s digital. Top of the line.”

“It’s wonderful.” I laugh. “You’re amazing, Mr. Stark. You just blink and things happen.”

“A bit more than a blink, but it was worth the extra effort. How else will you get shots of the beach today?”

I stand and walk to the edge of the terrace. “I can see the ocean from here, but not much of the beach.”

“The view will be better when we’re walking on it.”

I lift my foot and show off my pumps with the two-inch heels. “I don’t think I’m dressed for the occasion.”

The ankle bracelet sparkles in the sun. He runs his finger over it, the heat from his skin radiating over mine.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“Beauty for beauty,” he replies. “The emeralds match your eyes.”

I smile, delighted. “I’m feeling showered with gifts lately.”

“Good. You deserve to be. And that’s not a gift,” he says, brushing his finger over the bracelet. “It’s a bond … and a promise.” He’s looking right at me as he speaks, and my cheeks heat with a blush.

“I don’t want to miss walking on the beach with you,” I admit. My words come out a whisper. “I can go barefoot.”

He chuckles. “You could. But have you looked under the camera box?”

“Under?” I go back to the table and pull out the box. Sure enough, there’s something else there, wrapped in blue tissue paper. I look at him, but his expression gives nothing away. Slowly, I pull out the tissue paper. Whatever’s hidden is flat and firm. I peel back the paper until I reveal a pair of black flip-flops. I look up at Justin and grin.

“For walking on the beach,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“Anything you want. Anything you need.”

“Not everything can be bought,” I say.

“No,” he agrees, and he’s looking hard at me. “But I stand by my promise.”

His words twist deliciously inside me, and I’m saved from answering by our waiter’s entrance. We return to the table for coffee and a chocolate lava cake that is so perfect I wish I’d let Justin order two instead of insisting that I only wanted a few bites.

“What else did you do this weekend?” I ask him.

“I worked.”

“Earn another billion?”

“Not quite, but the time was profitable. And you?”

“Laundry,” I admit. “And we went dancing Saturday night.”

“We?”

“Ollie,” I say. “And my roommate, Jamie.”

His expression is tense. Is that jealousy? I think maybe it is, and I’m just petty or vain or something enough to be a little bit glad of that.

“Shall I take you dancing this week?”

“I’d like that,” I say.

“Where did you go with Jamie and Ollie?”

“Westerfield’s,” I tell him. “It’s that new place on Sunset close to the St. Regis.”

“Mmm.” He looks thoughtful. I’m guessing that loud clubs aren’t his thing.

“Too wild for you?” I ask. “That harsh beat? Those bright lights?” I know he’s only thirty, but he usually seems so much older. I wonder if he belongs to a ballroom dancing club. Surely they have those in Los Angeles. I consider the idea, thinking of all the movies I’ve watched with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Yeah, I could handle dancing like that in Justin’s arms.

“Did you like Westerfield’s?”

“I did. But, you know, I just left college, and Austin has a lot of clubs. So the loud music and the heavy beat don’t really—” I stop, suddenly aware of the amused expression on his face. I feel my shoulders slope as I figure it out. “You own the place, don’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Hotels. Clubs. What happened to your little technology empire?”

“Empires are often widespread,” he says. “I believe there’s strength in having a varied portfolio. And my empire is not little at all.”

“I pegged you wrong,” I admit.

“Did you?”

“I was picturing us as Fred and Ginger. When you take me dancing, I mean. But I’m okay with a nasty little bump and grind, too.” I give him my most flirtatious smile and am shocked at myself for doing so. I blame it on the martini. Well, the martini and the man.

He smiles enigmatically, then stands and crosses the terrace. I see him fiddling with something on the wall. A moment later, I hear music. It’s “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” one of my favorite Astaire and Rogers numbers. He returns to me with his hand out. “Ms. Fairchild, may I have this dance?”

My throat constricts and my pulse races wildly as he pulls me up and into his arms. I’m not a good dancer, but with Justin leading I feel like I’m floating. We glide over the terrace, his hand on my back as light as a feather. And when the music ends, he pulls me close and bends me backward, smiling down at me with devilish intent.

I’m breathless, my chest rising and falling in his arms. His lips hover over mine, and I find myself unable to think of anything but the way his lips would feel pressed against mine. The touch of his mouth. Of his tongue.

“Is there something on your mind, Ms. Fairchild?”

“No.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and I hear his voice in my head. No lies.

“I just—I was just wondering.”

“Wondering what?” He eases me up, and our bodies are pressed close. Hips touching. My breasts against his chest, my hard nipples revealing my arousal. “Tell me,” he whispers, his lips grazing my ear and making me shiver with desire.

“I was wondering if you were going to kiss me.”

He turns his head slowly, then looks me in the eye. I want to lose myself in the heat I see there, and my lips part in anticipation of a kiss.

“No,” he says, and then he takes a single step away from me.

I blink, confused. No?

His smile is wicked. “No,” he repeats. And that’s when I understand. He’s punishing me for pulling back in his office. “Our week begins when you arrive for your first sitting.”

“Tonight?” I ask.

“At six.”

I nod, disappointed but excited.

His hand slides down the curve of my ass over the thin material of my skirt. “And, Selena,” he adds, “don’t bother wearing underwear. You really won’t need any.”

I swallow and realize I’m already wet with anticipation.

Oh. Fucking. My.

I hang the Leica around my neck, but we leave the rest of our stuff with Richard and exit the back door of the hotel, following a path that takes us past the pool, an outdoor dining area, and then the tennis courts. Two couples are playing doubles, laughing and teasing each other as they miss most every stroke.

“Not a lot of hotels have courts,” I say. “Was that your idea?”

“The courts were here when I bought the place,” Justin says. It may be my imagination, but I think he’s begun to walk faster. I, however, am slowing down. There’s a bench just off the courts, and I pause there, my hands on the backrest. I’m looking at the players, but I’m imagining Justin on the court. His legs taut and tanned. His broad shoulders and strong arms. His jaw tight with determination.

After a moment, I feel him come up behind me. “We should go,” he says. “I want to show you the wharf, and I need to be back in the office by three.”

“Oh. Sure. I forgot.” I take his hand and we continue walking, leaving the hotel grounds and then strolling past the charming stucco houses on Mason Street.

“Do you miss it?” I ask, as we turn right off Mason into a small, green park. Ahead of us is the beach and the Pacific Ocean, shining blue-green in the afternoon sun. “Tennis, I mean.”

“No.” His answer is flat, without any hesitation or guile. Even so, I don’t quite believe him, and I say nothing, hoping that he will elaborate. After a few more moments, he does. “At first, I loved it. But after a while, the fun went out of the game. There was too much baggage.”

“The competition?” I ask. “Maybe you could get the fun back if you just played. I’m terrible, but we could hit a ball around sometime.”

“I don’t play anymore,” he says. His tone is hard and firm, and doesn’t mirror my light suggestion at all.

“Okay.” I lift a shoulder in a casual shrug. It’s obvious I’ve touched a nerve, and I’m not quite sure how to get the flirtatious, laughing Justin back. “I’m sorry.”

He looks at me sideways, then exhales, as if in frustration. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” He smiles, and I see the ice starting to melt, revealing nice underneath. “It’s just that I’m done with tennis. Like you’re done with pageants. You don’t compete anymore, do you?”

I laugh. “Hell no. But there’s a difference. I never thought it was fun.” Dammit, I should have kept my mouth shut. I don’t want him icing over again.

But he’s not icy at all. He’s looking at me with interest. “Never?”

“Never,” I say. “Well, maybe when I was little I liked the dressing up. I honestly don’t remember. But, no, I don’t think I liked it even then. I can’t remember feeling like anything other than my mother’s personal Barbie doll.”

“And dolls don’t have a life of their own,” he says.

“No, they don’t,” I say, pleased that he understands so well. “Did your parents push you to play?” I’m edging up against a sore point, but I want to get to know this man better.

We’ve reached the end of the park, and he takes my hand as we cross Cabrillo Boulevard. We reach the beach and walk in silence toward the surf. I’ve pretty much decided that I’m not going to get an answer when Justin finally speaks.

“At first I liked it. Loved it, actually. I was so damn young, but even then I loved the precision and the timing. And the power. Damn, I could hit that ball. It was a crappy year—my mother was sick—and I took out all my frustration on the court.”

I nodded. I got that. When I was younger, I lost myself in the computer or behind a camera. It was only when that stopped being enough that I started cutting. Somehow, everyone finds a way to cope. I think of Ashley and bite back a frown. They find a way—or they don’t.

“I started staying after school and the gym teacher coached me, but pretty soon he said that I’d blown past him. My dad worked in a factory and I knew that we couldn’t afford a coach, but that was okay. I was a kid, only eight, and I just wanted to play for fun.”

“What changed?”

“The teacher knew my mom was sick and that we couldn’t afford lessons. He mentioned me to a friend, and before I knew it this local pro was working with me, free of charge. I loved it, especially when I started winning tournaments. You might have noticed that I’m slightly competitive.”

“You? I’m flabbergasted.” I take off my flip-flops and dangle them from my fingers so that I can kick my toes in the surf. Justin is already barefoot, having left his shoes with Richard at the hotel. I don’t think many men could walk barefoot on a beach in a tailored suit and look damned sexy doing it, but Justin does. It was like a reflection of his confidence. That whatever he wanted, he would simply take.

Like me.

Pleasure trills up my spine, and I smile. Despite its rather crappy beginning, this is turning out to be an exceptional day.

There are a few people on the beach, but it’s a weekday and not very crowded. Even so, the sand has been picked clean, and I can’t find one decent shell, just bits and pieces, but the ripples that the water leaves as it surges in and out are beautiful in their precision. I drop the shoes so that I can take the lens cap off and focus, wanting a shot that includes the ridged sand and the white froth of the waves.

Justin waits until the shutter clicks, then hooks his arms around my waist. I feel the light pressure of his chin against my head. “Will you tell me the rest?” I ask. “What changed for you?”

“Success,” he says darkly.

I turn in his arms. “I don’t understand.”

“I got good enough to attract a bastard of a professional coach.” His tone is so low and biting it gives me chills. “He made a deal with my father—he’d train me for a percentage of my prize money.”

I nodded; his first professional coach had been in the Wikipedia article I’d read. They’d worked together from the time Justin was nine until he was fourteen. That’s when his coach had committed suicide. Apparently he was cheating on his wife.

I can’t help but think of Ashley, and I don’t want to raise those kinds of ghosts for Justin. Instead, I ask, “Did competing make it shift from fun to work?”

Justin’s face darkens and the change is so quick and so dramatic that I actually look up to see if something overhead cast a real shadow. But it is just him. Just the reflection of his own emotions. “I don’t mind hard work,” he says flatly. “But everything changed when I was nine.” There’s a harshness in his voice that I don’t understand. It occurs to me that he hasn’t answered my question.

“What happened?”

“I told my father I wanted to quit, but I was already earning prize money, and he said no.”

I squeeze his hand. Once again, he’s evaded my question, but I don’t press. How can I when evasion is an art I know well?

“I tried to get out again about a year later. I was playing all over the country by then, internationally, too. I was missing so damn much school that my dad just hired tutors. I focused mostly on science, and I loved it. I read everything I could on every subject, from astronomy to physics to biology. And fiction. Man, I ate up sci-fi novels. I even secretly applied to a private science academy. They not only accepted me, they offered me a full scholarship.”

I lick my lips. I’ve figured out where this is going. How could I not see the way the story was developing? We are so alike, he and I. Our childhoods ripped from us and driven by the whims of a parent. “Your parents said no.”

“My father did,” Justin says. “My mother had died a year earlier. It was—” He draws in a breath, then reaches down to collect my shoes. We start walking down the beach again, heading for the massive pier that makes up Stearns Wharf. “I was ripped up the year she died. Numb. I let it all out on the court. All the anger, the betrayal.” His jaw is tight with the memory. “Hell, it’s probably why I played so damn good.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and my words sound hollow. “I knew you were attracted to the sciences. All anyone has to do is look at the businesses you’re in. But I never realized it was a lifelong fascination.”

“Why would you?”

I tilt my head up to eye him. “You’re not exactly a blank slate, Mr. Stark. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re something of a celebrity. You’ve even got a Wikipedia page. But there’s nothing on it about turning down a scholarship to a science academy.”

His mouth tightens into a thin line. “I’ve worked hard to keep my past off the Internet and away from the press.”

I think about what Evelyn said about Justin learning to control the press at a young age. Apparently, she was right. I wonder what other bits and pieces of his life Justin Stark has kept close to the vest.

I lift the camera and look through the viewfinder, aiming it first at the sea, and then at Justin, who puts up his hands as if to ward me off. I laugh and snap a few images in quick succession. “Bad girl,” he says, and I laugh more.

“You bought the camera,” I say. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Oh, no,” he says, and he’s laughing now, too. I dance backward as he lunges for me. I’m happy to see him smiling again and the melancholy of visiting the past fading from his eyes. I lift the camera and take another set of shots.

“And she keeps piling on the punishment,” he says, following his words with a tsk-tsk noise.

I let the camera hang from its strap as I raise my hands in mock surrender. “I’m a free agent today, remember.”

His grin is positively devilish. “I may not be allowed to act on it,” he says, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep a list for future reference.”

“Oh, really?” I snap another picture of him. “If I’m going to be punished anyway, it might as well be worth it.”

His expression is all heat and promise. “I assure you I’ll be very thorough.”

“Of course, I don’t think you’re being very equitable. I mean, fair is fair. You’re going to have a portrait of me. I think I should have some photos of you.”

“Nice try,” he says. “But the punishment stands.”

I ease in close to him and slide my arm around his neck. Only the bulk of the camera is keeping us apart, and I’m suddenly enveloped in the heat of him. I lift myself up on my tiptoes so that I can whisper in his ear. “What would you say if I told you I was looking forward to it?”

He stands completely still, but as I ease back, I see a single muscle in his cheek twitch. It’s not much, but it’s enough. I’ve surprised Justin Stark. More than that, I’ve turned him on.

With a light laugh, I skip back, overflowing with feminine self-satisfaction.

We’ve reached the wharf, but we don’t go out onto it. Instead, we turn around and head back down the beach toward Bath Street and the hotel. As we walk, I take a few snaps of the Channel Islands, then manage to get an excellent shot of two seagulls flying so close together they look like one creature. We’ve almost returned back the length of the beach when Justin settles on a bench. I think I see a sand dollar and squat in the sand in front of him.

“I’m looking forward to tonight, Ms. Fairchild,” he says, his voice ripe with quiet urgency. He’s looking right at me, and I see the heat in his eyes that has become familiar to me. “It’s hard to be so close to something so precious and know you don’t yet possess it.”

“Possess?” I repeat.

His grin is slow and confident. “Possess. Have. Hold. Enjoy. Control. Dominate. Pick your verb, Ms. Fairchild. I intend to explore so very many of them.”

ar��/

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