#is it really such a terrible thing to say about someone that harry must at all costs be protected from that terrible accusation

[estherdedlock]

There’s a delicious theory going around that the Greek class wasn’t responsible for Harry McRee’s death...which of course, would render everything that happened afterwards all the more dreadful. I’ve been turning this over in my head and I’ve cooked up two different scenarios.

First, let’s recall what Henry remembers:

I heard something behind me, or someone, and I wheeled around...and swung at whatever it was---a large, indistinct, yellow thing---with my closed fist...I felt a terrible pain in my knuckles and then, almost instantly, something knocked the breath right out of me. It was dark, you understand; I couldn’t really see. I swung out again with my right, hard as I could and with all my weight behind it, and this time I heard a loud crack and a scream...I looked down at my hand and saw it was covered with blood, and worse than blood. Then Charles stepped forward and saw that it was a man. He was dead...He had on a yellow plaid shirt...and his neck was broken, and, unpleasant to say, his brains were all over his face.

Henry goes on to recount that Charles and Francis all remember different things, and Camilla seemingly has no memory of what happened at all, although her hair is drenched in blood.

Scenario 1: McRee Was Killed by Someone Else We’re told (via the Hampden Examiner) that McRee had “several  enemies” among the local poultry farmers, so it’s possible he may have been attacked by one of them. Maybe McRee survived the assault but was stumbling around his property, mortally wounded, when he had the misfortune to run into the Greek class and they inadvertently finished him off. The Examiner described McRee’s body as badly “mutilated,” so whatever the Greek class did to him would have covered up the real murder. Regardless, the Greek kids would still have been responsible for McRee’s death. If you run into someone who’s been the victim of a brutal crime, your responsibility is to help them, not finish beating them to death. All the same, it’s fascinating to speculate that McRee’s death was part of a whole different cycle of violence that had nothing to do with Henry et al, but in which fate ensnared them and triggered a whole new, pre-ordained cycle of violence. Or, to quote Aeschylus in the Oresteia: “Where will this frenzy of evil end?”

Scenario 2: McRee Was Killed by Something Else The group claims to recall the presence of a fifth person that night, but no one can say who it was. What if it wasn’t a  person, but a large wild animal, specifically, a mountain lion...a catamount? An animal that big could very well feel like another person in the dark, especially to a bunch of kids who were out of their minds. Supporting this theory is the very deep bite that Charles suffers that night, which is referred to several times with awe by the rest of the group. “Four inches around and the teeth marks just gouged in,” says Francis. “Looks like that deer took a plug out of your arm,” says Bunny. Would a wildcat take a chunk out of someone without killing them? Possibly. Might the same wildcat get frightened away by something, but then come across another human later and attack them? Perhaps a poultry farmer out on his property for a midnight stroll?

Henry says he saw a “large, indistinct yellow thing,” and then “something knocked the breath right out of me.” We jump to the conclusion the “yellow thing” must have been McRee’s flannel shirt, because Henry tells us that’s what McRee was wearing. But a large, tawny mountain lion might also look yellow in the moonlight. Henry never says that he felt a person hit him. The “something” that “knocked the breath” out of Henry could very well have been the animal taking off into the woods...after mauling McRee to death.

In this scenario, McRee would have already been dead when Henry stumbled into the scene. The “loud crack and a scream” that Henry heard could have been anything -- maybe Henry actually punched the lion and drove it off. What follows next, though, is pretty indisputable: The kids set about mutilating McCree’s body. There’s a vast difference between desecrating a corpse and murdering someone, but unfortunately, it hardly matters to the outcome. Tearing into McRee’s body would have destroyed evidence of a wild animal attack, leaving the group as the apparent killers. Without any clear memory of what really happened that night, the kids believe themselves guilty, so what they do to Bunny is inevitable...but all the more tragic if they never actually killed McCree themselves.

A seemingly unimportant incident occurs near the end of the book:

We were rounding a corner. Suddenly, in the wash of the headlights, a large animal loomed in my path. I hit the brakes hard. For half a moment I found myself looking through the windshield at a pair of glowing eyes. Then, in a flash, it bounded away.   We sat for a moment, shaken, at full stop.   “What was that?” said Francis.   “I don’t know. A deer maybe.”   “That wasn’t a deer.”   “Then a dog.”   “It looked like some kind of a cat to me.”   Actually, that was what it had looked like to me too. “But it was too big,” I said.   “Maybe it was a cougar or something.”   “They don’t have those around here.”   “They used to. They called them catamounts. Cat-o-the-Mountain. Like Catamount Street in town.”   The night breeze was chilly. A dog barked somewhere. There wasn’t much traffic on that road at night.   I put the car in gear.

So...what is this? A random bit of eerie atmospherics from Ms. Tartt? I don’t know. There seems to be very little in TSH that is random.

Perhaps she is, in fact, slyly pointing us in the direction of McCree’s real killer. Telling us, with hint after maddening hint, that even though the eventual outcome of that night in the woods would have been no different, fate is all the more cruel because the murder, which was a catalyst for everything that happened afterwards, was never even a murder at all.

#the secret history #dark academia #donna tartt #henry winter #richard papen #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #camilla macaulay #bunny corcoran

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Do you think Tom getting Hagrid expelled was probably the best thing to happen to him? Because, assuming the Chamber of Secrets fiasco never happened, Aragog would have got out of Hagrid's trunk and he would have killed someone eventually.

It was probably pretty clear to everyone that Hagrid didn't open the Chamber and Aragog didn't attack anyone, as why would a Acromantula petrify a bunch of students and kill only one without eating any of them? Hell, Acromantula's can't even petrify people, so Aragog's clearly not the culprit. But, they were just the covenient scapegoat to make it seem like they were doing something.

It must have been pretty easy to justify Hagird remaining on school grounds as gamekeeper since he was just the fall guy and to everyone else the real culprit must have either got cold-feet after Myrtle's death or got killed themself by whatever monster they were using since the attacks stopped after that.

But, without the Chamber opening, Aragog would have no doubt escaped sooner or later and would have made lunch out of some poor little first-year. If that happened, Hagrid would have probably ended up in Azkaban.

There's a lot to unpack here.

What I Think is the Going Theory By People

At first, it looked like a prank, a very terrifying and unsettling prank but a prank. Someone rights blood on the walls that The Chamber of Secrets is Open, Enemies of the Heir Beware. And just. What the fuck.

The prank continues to get worse as several students are petrified. However, there's a key thing there, they are petrified and not killed. Petrification is a terrible but very reversable process with no after effects going by what we see in canon. It's just a pain in the fucking ass and you better hope you have enough mandrakes on hand or else it'll take for fucking ever to order them all.

Because of that, while it is terrifying and harmful, it's not quite the same as say when Katie Bell was cursed by the amulet in HBP where she had to go to an intensive ward in the hospital for months.

It still I imagine for most people falls in the realm of 'really stupid, dangerous, awful, what the fuck prank that some pureblood idiot thinks is funny'.

I imagine there's increasing speeches of "please knock this the fuck off whoever is doing this" at dinner in the Great Hall from Dippet and him only getting blank stares in response as the vast majority of students is not the ones doing it.

I'm sure like in canon people outside Slytherin blamed the most Pureblood Slytherin they could find (like how Harry assumed it was Malfoy at first), Dumbledore blamed Tom because he always does/he knows Tom is the Heir of Slytherin in actuality and that there might very well be a Chamber of Secrets or even if there isn't Tom would sure use the mantle if he ever found out about it, and I have my thoughts for what the Slytherin's thought but that's another post for another day.

Then a girl dies and suddenly this isn't a prank. There's a period of panic when the school is considered being shut down by the board, maybe there really is a Chamber of Secrets, and then they find a likely culprit, Rubeus Hagrid who has an Acromantula wandering around the school and has a history of bringing in extremely dangerous creatures into the school.

The thing is, I think most people at the time, and even later (barring those we see in canon who for their own reasons do not believe this) think it was Hagrid and a no brainer.

He has a creature whose bite causes death wandering about the halls and then shock of all shocks a student dies. True, while Acromantulas don't petrify, it's entirely possible that the petrifications/blood on the walls wasn't Hagrid and an unrelated stupid Pureblood prank. Added to this we don't seem to get much of a sense of forensic investigations/autopsies when it comes to wizarding world crimes (note that crime scene investigations is never really mentioned and there's only Aurors who come up whose job is just to catch dangerous Dark Wizards, not figure out what the hell happened at a place). So, I'm not sure that they could conclusively say what Myrtle had or had not died from/if they did an autopsy. For that matter, I don't know if it's common enough knowledge of what death by Acromantula looks like in a body after X hours have passed.

It's also not clear, I'm sure to most people given that Hagrid seems to be a pioneer of studying creatures, how Acromantula's feed and how they behave. Do we know that Acromantulas under threat don't poison their victims then scamper away? Do they always bite to feed? Since we know the spiders are sapient this has an extra layer of spice as well--humans certainly don't always kill to feed.

Which makes the defense of Hagrid of "but Acromantulas don't cause petrification!" or "An Acromantula would definitely eat that person it came across and never kill them in any other circumstance" very thin.

I imagine it depends who you ask but there's probably a few prevalent theories on how this all fits together:

Hagrid's spider killed Myrtle, but the blood and the petrifications were an unrelated stupid prank and no one wants to stick their nose into it after a girl died. After Hagrid's arrested/the death, all of it stops anyway so let's not think about it.

Hagrid's spider killed Myrtle and Hagrid had prepared for this eventuality by writing blood on the walls and petrifying students via some other method left and right so that people would think it was a Pureblood Slytherin. Hagrid has notably had run-ins with Slytherins before (see Tom noting the werewolf cubs under the bed/presumably having clashes with Hagrid) and it's possible he already resented them and that this was a ploy to frame someone else for murder/the spider's activities.

Hagrid was innocent! Someone else unrelated used some other monster that then never struck again and was never seen again and was never found in fifty years since to kill Myrtle and petrify those students! Sure, Hagrid has a bad history of bringing in dangerous creatures, doesn't get along great with other students who keep narking on him, and has been quite isolated and admittedly resentful of Slytherins but he's innocent! Because he's a good person who'd never harm a fly! (Except that there's the possibility this was unwitting manslaughter because Hagrid was letting a spider roam the halls)

I don't think anyone thinks Hagrid's actually the Heir of Slytherin or that the Chamber of Secrets even really exists. There might be some, but they'd be considered very stupid.

He has a creature whose bite causes death wandering about the halls and either the petrifications/blood was an unrelated prank from someone who was very unfunny or else Hagrid did it to cover up for himself/out of gleeful preparation for when his spider finally did kill someone. I imagine it depends who you ask, some will think Hagrid only did the death, some will think he did the whole Chamber of Secrets thing as well.

I imagine several don't even believe the Chamber existed or was opened at all but that Hagrid was definitely 100% guilty.

That is, unless you're Dumbledore, in which case it was that fucker Tom Riddle and you know it, you know it in your bones, you can smell it in the air, you just can't fucking prove it. But one day, Tom. One day.

Was Hagrid a Scapegoat/Was it Clear He Didn't Do it?

Honestly, I don't think he was. I think they honestly and truly believed that he was the one responsible because of what's outlined above. Added to the fact that arresting him caused it all to stop when the spider disappeared... it's not a good look.

A scapegoat is one thing, but very important people's children all go to Hogwarts, and people like the Blacks, the Malfoys, so on and so forth don't want a scapegoat they want this stopped. If it was just Dippet appeasing them then I imagine there'd be a lot more pushback for investigation. I think the Board of Governors believes it was Hagrid as well as does the Wizengamot at large.

So, no, not a scapegoat, they 100% thought he did it.

Similarly, I think pretty much everyone except Dumbledore believed Hagrid was responsible. No, it wasn't obvious that Hagrid didn't do it (for much the reason it wasn't obvious to Harry and Ron after Riddle told them. Harry didn't want to believe Riddle, Hagrid's so nice, but it... tracks...)

The them getting killed themselves by the monster is... well... who is missing aside from Myrtle? And why would that stop the monster from rampaging? The spider's gone and we know it's gone so kind of makes sense that everything stopped when the spider's gone.

Was it Hard to Hire Hagrid?

I imagine it was actually quite difficult for Hagrid to be hired on as assistant groundskeeper. I think what saved him there was Dumbledore really going to bat with him for Dippet using the "this poor orphan boy with no prospects and I personally think he isn't responsible for reasons I can't get into because no one will ever believe me" and Dippet feeling sympathy and telling himself "okay, Hagrid had his wand snapped, he is an orphan with no prospects who will starve if we don't employ him here, and his supervisors can keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't do anything".

I imagine a lot of the students and the Board of Governors were very leery of Hagrid being hired/in proximity of the students but some combination of Dippet and Dumbledore brushed that under the rug.

By the time we get to canon enough time has passed, enough has happened, that people have kind of forgotten about this as shown by it not being discussed until the Aurors arrive for Hagrid because "wow Hagrid, this is exactly like fifty years ago, you're still here, and we have you on record saying things like 'all Slytherins are evil at birth', are we doing this again, Hagrid?"

Would Hagrid Have Ended Up in Azkaban if the Spider Had Killed Someone?

Honestly, I don't think anything would have changed from what happened in canon. Because this is what people thought happened.

If there was no Chamber of Secrets debacle and this just randomly happened I think Dumbledore would still go to bat for Hagrid and get him the groundskeeping job (as it seems Dumbledore must have covered for Hagrid in the past). Dumbledore would probably blame Tom Riddle or else quietly admit it was probably Hagrid but Hagrid's just so sweet and it was clearly an accident.

Given that this is exactly what the Wizengamot/greater Wizarding World thought happened, I think Hagrid would be given the same punishment of expulsion and wand snapping, probably because it's manslaughter and he's a minor.

It was only when we went for round 2, fifty years later when Hagrid's an adult and it's looking very purposeful/not like manslaughter, that Hagrid got his stint in Azkaban.

And at this fucking point--

Well, @therealvinelle and I have an @rankheresy episode planned. I'll just leave it there.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #the chamber of secrets #rubeus hagrid #anti rubeus hagrid #meta #headcanon #opinion

[pet-genius]

"No one deserves to be praised for kindness if he does not have the strength to be bad" - La Rochefoucauld

And is that not just "Snape to a T," as @dementedlollipop had put it while I was contemplating making a meta?

I think I can relate to the concept of goodness vs. greatness in HP that I've been toying with for actual years. The distinction first comes up in Ollivander's shop, IIRC, where Ollivander remarks that Voldemort did things that were "terrible" but "great", which makes Harry uncomfortable. But of course it does, because Ollivander is literally calling his parents' murderer "great". And that word keeps coming up: "You could be great, you know," the Sorting Hat whispers to Harry.

What if Harry's praiseworthiness is not in ending up in Gryffindor, but in choosing his idea of goodness (which was naive, as he was only 11 and his only source of intel was Hagrid)?

Dobby has always known of Harry's greatness, but not of his goodness, because the too things are not the same. The main "lesson" of COS is that our choices make us who we are, but how many 11 year olds are offered the choice? How many children ended up in Slytherin because no one had warned them about that House, because they had no personal stake in where they would be? Harry is not only a Gryffindor but someone who might as well not have been, hence his goodness. Harry constantly grapples with the knowledge that he is actually not special and has no outstanding power, and Dumbledore constantly has to remind him - the power of love. The power of choice. Picture young Snape, torn between the two, with Lily representing an idea of goodness that is increasingly foreign to him as she aligns herself with people he has good reason to despise. On his other shoulder, greatness - as he conceives it - whispers. It might be telling him something like... "There is no good or bad. Only power and those too weak to seek it." Or even something like... "our choices make us who we are. Do you choose to stay weak or come under my wings and learn how to be strong?"

He has every power to be bad, because his tragic life made that path the easier one. At some point, it might have looked like the only option. Certainly Dumbledore would not have humored a young Snape who had never been corrupted to start with, by the way. What glory or greatness could the Order offer him?

Funnily enough, his biggest criticism of James is that he was "mediocre" and "arrogant," neither of which translates directly to a "violent bully" in my eyes. I don't want to make another post about James, but I do think it says a lot about what Snape valued - at least at the time when James had been alive, when Snape probably verbalized his criticisms.

"Ought implies can", Kant tells us, meaning (as I read it) that moral duty arises only when the possibility exists. But we don't deserve praise for merely doing as we ought. Snape deserves praise just as much as deserves condemnation, because his story has always been that of choice between viable options. The option to be good must have seemed less viable when he was a short-sighted and traumatized teenager, but he always had it. Greatness, and goodness, praiseworthiness... belong to the adult we met, the petty and vindictive and still-traumatized and still embittered man who - even after killing Dumbledore, when capitalizing on his strength to be bad could not be easier - still chose the struggle. It feels like a good point to end the meta, except that I read it and I feel ridiculously self-important and like I barely skimmed the surface. I guess the quote in the title just really encapsulates why Snape is so endlessly fascinating, on top of just being, ultimately - good.

#severus snape #snape love #pro severus snape

[falderaletcetera]

listen. I don't just love father brown because I first saw it while ill with the flu or because it's consistently kind to the outcast in a way that has reviewers calling it Too Woke, obviously a vote in its favour. or because the recurring thief character is very pretty to watch. though those are significant parts of it.

I love it because after eight seasons father brown sits down with the village drunk (a munitions expert in the war, has a soft spot for the parish secretary, name of harold or blind harry) to find out why he gave a murder suspect a false alibi and harry explains to him, calm as you like, that seeing the life leave someone's eyes changes a person, that it's what he reckons brought father brown to his faith, that it's what drove him to drink, and he didn't see that shadow in the guy the police are chasing this time. and father brown, rather than justifying or correcting or dodging or doubting him, says he knows how unjust the situation is. that he got something good out of the horrors of the war. that harry really didn't.

it is not a perfect show and yes I have problems with it but gosh, this is a character who's largely used for comedic beats, albeit kindly, and a scene like this isn't out of place at all but it still takes my breath away. we could've been left with this as subtext, y'know? I hadn't even put together that his alcoholism must have been trauma. but instead harry tells us this directly, tells us it's about guilt, that that's something he shares with father brown, who is competent and so often cheerful and I can't even imagine when he was younger, and it's a moment of such unexpected humanity and respect. and it's such a strange thing to see these characters side by side like that.

the scene ends with father brown calling harry a good man, and harry denying it ("they was only young lads" "so were we, harold. so were we.") and the two them sharing a drink as father brown gets a bit watery-eyed and I'm crying too over my nice cosy 'this is a concerning number of murders for a sleepy english village' show and just. hi. what. ow.

I also haven't recovered from the episode that turned into a heist halfway through but frankly I'm only mentioning that because I don't know how to wrap up a post like this. (it was good though. there were two separate honeypots, three if you count the impromptu replacement, one character terrible at grifting and one unexpectedly great at it, and, somehow, a con within a con. it was really very fun. get a show that can do both, I guess?)

#back on my bullshit (unrepentant) #I was raised so protestant I retain a deep suspicion of priests so this remains very startling to me #something something father brown handshake emoji iroh #love where they are now no clue how they got there but it's always kind of a shock to be reminded there was blood along the way #also like. the kindness. the tea. the fondness for life's small pleasures. #pretending to be harmless and friendly and also BEING harmless and friendly to the core. #this is an association I had not made before so if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go hide my face in a pillow about it #father brown #falderal speaks #love a show that waits until you're comfy and then smacks you with a very human reminder of the horrors of war #love a character with. moral injury. listen shush I'm very predictable I just hadn't put together that it was father frikking brown too #silly little (not little) guy who elbows his way into situations by smiling pleasantly at people and who likes cake and jazz music #it's not like I forget he has depth I just. forget that the story GOES there #and so respectfully. harold who is usually slightly comic relief getting a serious moment that explains a lot and doesn't even feel jarring #I'm stopping here but like. good show‚ show. I did in fact have unexpected emotions about it.

[yandereharrypotter]

Not Thinking Straight

Imma write things I want to write for my quotev Harry Potter Series The Terrible Twins Terrible Twins & the Deadly Chambers

These might be included in the later books, but IDK, these might just be Extra scenes. Some canon, some not....

Summary: You decide to go to a Ravenclaw Rave and get so wasted you jump your arch-rival, Draco Malfoy

You looked at the envelope in your hand. You knew a Ravenclaw party was a bad idea, especially after the one you went into the summer before second year. And the incident at the end of second year- You shook your head, so you might not have a good wrap with some Ravenclaws, but they did throw fun parties.

----

Here you were, popping open a cork, already wasted from the drinks and drugs running through your system. You didn't do drugs or drink, but these parties always brought out the worse in people. Not to mention the extreme peer pressure.

Faces mixed together and hands were attached to limbs and you couldn't figure out who was who. Laughs and yells were just that, but nothing more.

God, you shouldn't have eaten those mushrooms. That was the last thing you needed in your system. You leaned into someone and you felt them wrap their hands around you. You were dragged into the hall and you gripped their biceps.

Malfoy watched as you stumbled, clenching to his arms. Your nails were digging into his arms, causing a stinging sensation. You kept giggling to yourself and looking at him strangely.

"You're so pretty," You carass his face so gently, he almost leans into it, until he realizes it's you and grabs your hand. You just giggle and rub your face onto his chest. You look up at him, smiling and Malfoy could see the color swirling around in your eyes, letting him know you were high. "But my boyfriend wouldn't like me saying that to another guy."

His eyebrow rose. Boyfriend? He didn't know you had a boyfriend. Is that why you were avoiding him?

"Well," You laugh, "He's not really my boyfriend. He's just a guy."

"Oh?" He holds you close to him. "Just a guy?"

"He's a bad dude... So mean," You shake your head, "Besides, he wants it to be on the downlow."

"HE wants it to be on the downlow?" He frowned. You were lying straight through your teeth. He was sure you were talking about him. And if that was true, then YOU wanted it to be on the downlow, but he wanted to tell everyone. He wanted people to stop hitting on you, because he loved you. "You're a crazy girl."

"Let me show you how crazy I am."

He laughs, grabbing your hands, so you don't try and take his hands off. "In public."

"I'm a freaky girl," You laugh, before laughing and falling forward. Malfoy is quick to catch you, shocked at the sudden change in demanor.

"Y/n are you okay?"

You don't respond and he checks your pulse. It was still beating. You must have passed out. He hustles you up Princess style before taking you back to the Slytherin dorm. Unlike the previous years, the beds were cut off by wall-like structures, so that the older teens could have more privacy. He lays you on his bed, before sitting in his favorite chair and watching you.

---

You open your eyes slowly, staring at the ceiling. You yawn, before looking around and spotting Malfoy asleep. Your eyes widen and you look around the room, realizing you were in Malfoy's dorm. You quickly sit up and go towards him. You get close to his face, when suddenly his eyes open, surprising you. You quickly cover your mouth and he rubs his eyes.

"You're finally awake."

"How long was I out?"

"A few hours. Nothing serious. You really should lay off whatever you were on though."

You blush, "Did I say something stupid."

He looks up at you, smirking, "Define stupid."

You groan and sit on his bed. "I need to get back to my dorm."

"At this hour? Good luck."

"You're a Prefect! You could take me-"

"No way. I'm tired."

"I won't be able to leave in the morning."

"Sure you will. Trust me."

#harry potter #yandere harry potter #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #yandere draco #yandere draco malfoy #yandere draco x reader #yandere malfoy #yandere draco malfoy x reader #draco #draco lucius malfoy

[jmagnabo92]

Do you think Snape is good or bad?

I don't think Snape is good or bad. He's complicated, he's gray. He is the very definition of anti-hero.

The thing about Snape for me is that while he had a difficult life (at least as far as his parents fighting all the time), he made terrible decision after terrible decision. Choosing to be friends with people that hate his best friend, choosing to be a bigot and whatever complications and expectations there are as a death eater, and ultimately, choosing to condemn a child by telling the madman he worked for about half-a-prophecy.

Then, he 'turns his tune' due to losing the woman that was once his best friend, with no proof that he stopped being the bigot he is, but let's say he did.

He has become 'good' not because of a moral change, but because he lost someone that he cared about.

Then, after he become 'good', he then ends up choosing to abuse students in his care - negatively affecting the second war, as well.

Particularly, the two boys that he condemned when he brought the prophecy to Voldemort. This is a ... terrible look and a terrible thing for him to do. But he did end up helping Harry beat V.

He's done terrible, not really redeemable things in my eyes, but he's also undeniably done good things that would lead to defeating Voldemort.

Therefore, I think he's gray.

But if I must choose - bad.

Thanks for the ask!

#anti Snape #Anti Severus Snape #Jen's asks

[1d1195]

Made to Be Extra I

Probably too early for an extra but it's the only thing my brain will allow me to write right now. Read the rest here: Made to be

Someone (I'm pretty sure it was my anon, but your message is lost in the chaos of my blog) asked if we would ever find out about the days in between the football game and Harry's apartment.

Here you go!

Warnings: implications of abuse, toxic relationship, signs of physical abuse, psychological abuse

Of course, it was Harry.

They didn’t have full-on conversations as she and her sisters did. Or even the group chat with her friends. But for her to leave Harry unanswered yesterday, he must have known something was amiss.

Sorry for the second message! I’m sure you’re busy and doing things—wanted to show you this book I just finished. I think you’ll really like it. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow. Have a nice day! :)

Everything about Harry made her want to cry.

She was locked in the bathroom. A serious case of shock was present in every inch of her body. She saw her hands shaking as she looked down at them. She could hear his angry stomping and the door slamming shut. A breath escaped her lips in relief.

Looking in the mirror seemed like a terrible idea. Panic surfaced into her chest and throat. Her stomach rolled with nausea. She had to look. What was her other option? She was terrified. Her head was aching. Nothing about this moment made sense. It shouldn’t have happened. It had never happened before. What was she supposed to do?

Then her phone vibrated with a message.

Of course, it was Harry.

Despite the ache of dread in every inch of her body, Harry’s name on her screen lightened the heaviness she felt. It didn’t make it better. Not by a long shot. But there was a flicker of...hope?

I should tell him. She thought. He would probably come running. But that wasn’t fair to him. Harry wasn’t her knight and shining armor. He wasn’t hers. He was her coworker for God’s sake!

But he would.

She knew he would.

With her hand shaking she opened the message. It was a picture of the food she always liked when he brought it to lunch along with the recipe. The smiling emoji with the here y’go attached to it made her melt. She wanted to answer him immediately. It’s like he knew something was wrong. His simple little message made her hands shake less. The throb in her face eased just a fraction.

Just ask him to come here. Tell him. He’ll come for you.

She shook her head and set her phone aside. She had to be brave. Swallowing the lump in her throat she looked up into the mirror. Her eyes met her own gaze for just a second. Her chest swelled with anxiety and anger. She was so utterly sad. This wasn’t supposed to happen to her.

She looked back down at her shaking hands as she let a fresh set of tears spill down her face.

Her mind wandered back to Harry’s text message. Just a recipe and an emoji and her heart was nearly fluttering. He didn’t make her feel this way: broken and alone. He never would. She was so sure of it. She could see it unrolling in her head. Her thumbs tapping out the message to him asking him to come get her, no questions asked.

Of course, love. He’d answer immediately. It was like she could see the message on her phone without it even happening. Is everything alright? And she would say “no” and she could imagine him breaking every speeding law in the world to get to her.

She thought about him holding her hand when he aided her small cut on her finger. That was nothing in comparison. He would probably cradle her like a wounded bird. She thought about the way his fingers would feel holding her broken face and it made her cry more as she felt weakened by how desperately she wanted Harry’s touch.

It wasn’t fair.

Harry would never let her feel this way. She couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he would let her feel like it. Every time he looked at her from across the hall and gave her one of his gorgeous, dimpled smiles she felt literally weak in the knees. Someone like that would never let her feel the way she did right now.

Harry would come get her.

She opened her phone to his message thread. She hovered her finger over the call button. His number staring back at her. She wished she had a picture of him next to his name. She was so sure it would comfort her. It probably would have convinced her finger to move the last centimeter to press on the screen to call him.

Harry would come get her.

But she couldn’t do that to him.

She closed her phone. Slowly she looked in the mirror again. Maybe it would go away. She couldn’t look as long as she did the first time. Her ear was waiting for the sound of him returning. Would he continue their argument? Would he not come back? Would he pretend nothing happened?

Would he...?

She shook her head of the thought causing the painful throb in her cheek to return. Her thumb opened Harry’s contact again. How easy it would be to call him. He would come over before she finished her request. But it was Saturday night. He was probably curled up with the soup he made, a good book, maybe a glass of wine. She couldn’t interrupt him. It wasn’t his problem to deal with and he didn’t deserve it.

Closing her phone again, she slowly retreated to her room. The bed seemed like a terrible place to sleep. She didn’t want to share it with him. She wondered where he went. Would he come home? She thought about Harry’s apartment and how warm and homey it seemed on Thanksgiving. It seemed like a sanctuary now.

She could go over there. He wouldn’t deny her. He wasn’t the type. He would never let her suffer.

How could her brain only think of Harry in a time like this?

She laid on her side of the bed. It felt cold. She felt stiff. Sleeping wasn’t going to happen. Her heart raced with fear that he would come back. Her clothes were still on and the only thing that was actually keeping her grounded was the throb spreading from her cheek to her eye and the ache piercing her head.

That, and thoughts of Harry of course.

*

Sleep must have overcome her at some point through the night. She woke up to an empty bed and relief in her heart. She just had to get to school tomorrow. Harry would be there.

Harry.

Oh.

What was he going to say? Her mind started to spin. He could be mad at her for not coming to him. It seemed like something he could get mad about—like the time she tried to hang her fall leaves decorations up by standing on the back counter of her room without a spotter. It made him frustrated.

This would be worse. She knew it would be because it was worse.

She couldn’t tell Harry now. At least in front of kids he would have to hide his frustration. He would make sure she was okay. That’s all he would do. She was sure of it.

Somehow, she did manage to sleep in a bit—even with a racing mind as she drifted off. The other half of her bed looked undisturbed. He didn’t sleep here last night. The thought comforted her.

She listened closely for any sounds of life in the rest of their shared home. There were none. Sighing with relief—and then regretting the pressure of pain her pursed lips caused her cheek—she made her way to the bathroom. A shower would do her good. It always did.

The water warmed her skin and made her hair feel better. She was mindful of her sensitive cheek.

Her brain was in disarray as the water flowed down her skin. She wanted to sit on the bottom of the tub and wait for the water to freeze her, but she had to get out and do something. Needed to do anything except lack for something to think about.

*

Her phone vibrated again. It made her jump. She couldn’t get anything done so she resorted to aimlessly staring at the TV not paying attention to the characters on screen. She needed to do some grading, but her mind was so scattered—she was worried he would come back. She should have packed all her stuff. But nothing made sense right then.

She was scared to look at her phone. Maybe it was her mom—she couldn’t lie to her mom. Or her sisters. If she answered them, they would know in a minute. Maybe she should have told them immediately. They would have come to get her just as fast as Harry would have.

Harry.

Of course, it was Harry.

They didn’t have full-on conversations as she and her sisters did. Or even the group chat with her friends. But for her to leave Harry unanswered yesterday, he must have known something was amiss.

Sorry for the second message! I’m sure you’re busy and doing things—wanted to show you this book I just finished. I think you’ll really like it. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow. Have a nice day! :)

Everything about Harry made her want to cry.

Her thumb hovered over his contact again. Two taps and thirty seconds and there was no way he wouldn’t be driving to her doorstep. The pain in her cheek was just a dull ache now. The shock of it all wore off and she was only reminded it was there if she accidentally itched her cheek or shifted herself on the couch to lay more comfortably (which was a lost cause).

Harry would give her ice or a heating pad. He would comb his fingers through her hair and make sure she had enough blankets and coffee. He would help her.

She closed her phone.

*

Harry’s final attempt to talk to her was an email sent at eight PM. She was anxiously awaiting his arrival home when she read through his email on her phone. She wished she was in a better mood. His ideas were always so good and sounded so nice. She wanted to call him just to talk those over—let alone ask him for help.

With a sigh she meandered to the bedroom dreading sleeping again. Anxiety plagued her waiting to see if he would show up. She wondered where he went but couldn’t be bothered to care for longer than a moment.

She should have left.

But where would she go? She was isolated from her friends. Her family was too far. In theory she should have just gone to a hotel. But everyone would know.

“Shit,” she hissed to herself throwing the covers back off herself. She hurried to the bathroom and dumped her makeup bag out on the counter. Distraction. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

She slowly, gently, carefully, covered her face in makeup. There was no way she could go to school with her face looking like this without anyone noticing. She needed a cover story to go with her coverup. They would know.

Harry would know.

She felt tears ready to spill over her lash line once more thinking about how unfair it was that she had to do all this hiding, shaking, covering again. She wished her youngest sister was here—she was a wizard with makeup. Her best friend would have a story—not that she would help cover this up, but she would know just what to say. She had gotten her out of work on more than one occasion. She could do it.

She thought about Harry.

Harry would...

Well, she doesn’t know what Harry would do, but she would know that he would help.

When she had used a substantial amount of makeup on her skin, she looked at herself in the mirror desperately hoping something her sister had told her years ago had stuck.

It wasn’t fully covered. Anyone that looked for longer than a second could see it. She needed a story. What could pack a punch like this? Sighing, she realized she would have to come up with a story and avoid Harry tomorrow.

Harry would know immediately.

She wished she had told him already. Right when it happened.

But it was late, now. She would see him tomorrow.

She knew if she called him right then, he would still come rushing to her side. It didn’t matter that it was late.

Harry would always help, she thought.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #hs #hs fic #harry styles fic rec #hs writing #made to be

[finerllines]

love, rory [bestfriend!h]

a/n: hiya thank you all for being patient and i hope this part gets you excited for the next part!! there's not too much harry in this one but i think it's still pretty fun!! please reblog and comment if you enjoyed the fic and if you wanna be tagged in the next part lmk :D

summary: richard is in his comeback era while harry has triggered his downfall

wc: 9.2k+

cw: none, a little angsty

prev part

///

This is bad. This is beyond bad, this is terrible. Everything is terrible.

Charlie hopes that her efforts to keep her panic eyes at bay are working, because they are in a crowded park with lots of families around. The last thing she wants is to attract any attention from ‘normal’ couples.

She has no idea how this happened. How she let this happen. It was just supposed to be lunch with Richard. Just one lunch for Richard to say whatever he had planned to say, and then they would go their separate ways and she’d finally block his number, forgetting that the meeting ever happened.

Instead, however, she finds herself seated across Richard, for the second time, with Rory between her legs, hands circling her waist protectively. She’s on guard, of course she is. Her daughter is the most important thing in her life. Her top priority, her only priority. She must put Rory’s needs before her own, and if that means giving her an opportunity to know her father then so be it.

The repeated reminders to herself that everything Richard says is bullshit were useless.  

“I know I’ve abandoned you, and her, but I want to make it right. She won’t remember all of this, and she’ll never have to know, because I’ll make up for all the lost time. It’s okay if you never forgive me but don’t give her a reason to need to forgive me. She doesn’t deserve it. Please don’t make me hurt her the way I hurt you.”

She forgets that they were at one point in a committed relationship, that they used to know everything about each other. The only good thing about your partner walking out of your relationship is that it’s easy to get over them, you are too blinded by rage to miss them or reminisce. But he keeps saying all the right things. And while her brain tells her to stay on guard, her heart is more than ready to trust again, eager to return to that confident and self-assured person she was before he left. More importantly, that’s how she wants Rory to view her mother, an accomplished and confident woman. Not someone who was abandoned by the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally.

So, when he asks to meet Rory ‘as a family’, all she can do is whisper a wary “okay, sure”, as if every other thought had fled her brain.

Her agreement brings them to the park, on a picnic mat next to the playground.

The wariness has subsided a little. Richard seems to be sticking true to his promise and letting her direct how this interaction would go. She doesn’t want to hand Rory to him and send them off to the playground assuming that the little girl would be okay with a stranger taking her away. Sure, Rory was comfortable with Harry almost instantly, but something in Charlie’s gut tells her that this isn’t the same. Maybe it’s because everyone knows Harry is good with kids, he is basically England’s most sought after godfather, and Richard happened to run away at the first inkling of a baby. Either way, she reminds herself to push her own skepticism away and take cues from Rory, who so far hasn’t really seemed to notice the new man sitting across from her, her attention fully occupied by the toy car in her grip.

How do you introduce a baby to a stranger, Charlie asks herself. It’s not like introducing a new pet to your home – Rory is not interested in climbing over Richard and giving him a good sniff to sus him out. The best she can do is try and help him get Rory’s attention by prying the car out of her hand and passing it to him. Sure enough, the little girl’s eyes follow the toy with confusion, but despite Richard’s waving and Charlie’s encouragements, all she does is crawl over to him to reach for the car, completely uninterested in reciprocating the greeting.

“Rory, you don’t wanna say ‘hi’ to mummy’s friend?” She holds Rory’s hand and waves at him, “Say ‘hi’ Richard.”

Rory’s arm falls limply in front of her when it’s let go off. She simply looks at him with wide eyes, not saying or doing anything.

Richard clears his throat. “Hi Rory, can I play with you?”

Lying down on his stomach, he peers up at her and slowly reaches for another toy car and starts driving it in front of her. After some hesitation, Rory joins him in pushing and pulling her car around on the mat. And as much as Charlie hates to admit it, the smile that emerges on Richard’s face is a little infectious. Relief and excitement are written all over his face. Having your daughter ignore you can’t be a good feeling.

While he doesn’t manage to go from zero to a hundred (like Harry managed to), he did get a wave back and a giggle out of her, and when he placed his hand palm up on the mat hoping for a high five, Rory did wrap her hand around his thumb instead.

When the playground got more crowded later in the afternoon, Charlie insisted on taking their leave. Richard walked them to the car and pulled silly faces over her shoulder as she buckled Rory into the car seat.

“Thanks for letting me do this. I had a great time with her, and I think she likes me.” His voice is soft, and his eyes portray a shyness that is not normally there.

Charlie lets him take a step towards her when she turns to face him. This is the closest they’ve been since … well since he left.

“You’re welcome. It went well I think.”

His eyes brightened. “Does that mean I can see her again? Does that mean I can see you again?”

She bites her lip. “We’ll see, we can text about it, I guess. But do not come to my house uninvited ever.”

“I promise I won’t. That was stupid of me, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head aggressively. “You can trust me. I made a mistake but I’m back to make it right.”

Unsure of what to say, she just nods. “Alright. See you next time, possibly.”

On the drive home, she replays the little playdate over in her head. Everything went fine. Father and daughter seemed to get along fine. But is fine enough? She can’t help but compare Richard to Harry, something she subconsciously did ever since meeting Richard. It’s a little hard to compare first interactions, Rory was groggy and hungry the first time she met Harry. But every time after that, she was more than happy to play with him. In fact, she was in Harry’s arms every day after that.

Maybe she’s being too harsh, Harry had the advantage of being in her home and being around them every day. Plus, a lukewarm reaction is definitely better than a negative one. She has to give Richard a fair shot, he is Rory’s father, and it won’t be fair to deny her of that relationship just because of some personal bias towards Harry. Giving her daughter a chance to grow up with both parents is more important than her own feelings, she could never take that away from Rory.

Just thinking about Rory growing up to realise that her father didn’t love her enough to stick around from the beginning, and that her mother didn’t love her enough to put her first made Charlie feel sick. She can protect Rory from feeling unloved and unwanted.

She will.

-

Somehow Charlie’s life has taken a sharp left turn in a span of a month. Not only is Richard not blocked, he is also one of the few people she texts semi-regularly. She has no clue how it happened. All she remembers is getting a text from him thanking her again when she was lying in bed after their little family reunion and scheduling another playdate together the next week.

She figured it couldn’t hurt, a little trip to Costa won’t hurt anyone. She was right, she and her daughter came back from the coffee shop unscathed. But it did lead to her agreeing to another meeting with Richard, and another, and another, and another. Now, as she sits on a towel watching Rory and Richard build a sandcastle, she sifts through every conversation, look, and gesture that brought her to the beach with her ex-boyfriend and her daughter.

The beach seemed harmless enough, it’s a public place and definitely child friendly, however the fact that he would be in a state of undress completely flew over her head. She either managed to overlook that fact somehow, or just took it for granted that she is incapable of being attracted to a man who made her feel small and insecure.

When he whipped off his shirt seconds after putting his stuff down, Charlie stood frozen, eyes glued to his chest for a good couple of seconds. He must have felt her eyes on him because when she fails to look away quick enough, he shoots her a boyish smirk, which sends a rush of heat up her neck and face, finally forcing her to snap out of it and look away.

Red flags immediately start waving in her head. This is dangerous territory, retreat. As much as she’d like to be rational and heed the warning, her heart is stubborn and won’t move on from how handsome he is. She hates to admit it but the time apart did his body good.

He was always a looker, that’s what drew her to him in the first place, but he somehow got more attractive. His body filled out a bit more, and the sun is doing him lots of favours by hitting his skin just right, making his eyes and smile brighter.

Annoyingly, Charlie finds herself sneaking glances at Richard throughout the day – when he holds Rory’s hand to slowly walk her down to the water, when he looks back at her for reassurance after making Rory laugh, and when he hands her an ice cream with a soft smile.

They sit around a cooler bag for lunch, picking at the sandwiches and fruit that Richard packed. He does up a little plate of foods she previously approved for Rory and guides her hands to encourage her to start eating. Charlie notes his movements are less timid. He still handles her watchfully, trying to gauge Rory’s reaction to being touched by him, except his movements no longer stutter.

Rory’s been exceptionally well behaved the whole morning, happily rolling around in the sand and kicking her feet up with excited shrieks when her feet get lowered into the sea. It’s been an action packed morning and she’s completely justified in whining and kicking up a big fuss, refusing to eat her food.

A long, high pitched whine escapes her lips as she pushes Richard’s hand away. Her lips form a deep pout, eyes widening to look at her mum as if pleading for something.

“What’s wrong? She hurt?”

Charlie smirks at Richard’s unease. “Nothing’s wrong, she’s just a baby, and this is what babies do. They whine and cry when they’re tired or hungry while also refusing to sleep or eat.”

His expression doesn’t relax.

She returns her daughter’s pout and opens her arms. Rory instantly takes the invitation and crawls over for a cuddle. “You’ll have to get used to it. Being a parent is more than giggles at the beach.”

“I’ll … have to keep that in mind then.”

The pair sit in silence as Rory drifts to sleep in Charlie’s rocking arms after stubbornly eating a couple of blueberries and a piece of bread.

Eventually, Richard gets bold enough to slide closer to them. He strokes Rory’s back once slowly. “She’s adorable.”

“I guess we did good.”

He chuckles lightly. “Yeah. Crazy to think that she’s half of me. Half of us.”

His words are weighty. They both know it.

When she doesn’t respond, he continues. “Is she like me?”

“A little. She’s quite outgoing, likes attention, likes to perform.”

“What are you trying to say then?” he asks playfully. It’s been a while since he joked around with her.

“You know I’m right. You’ve always loved telling your stories and getting a laugh from everyone and I liked watching from the side.”

“Hey,” he says, tucking a finger under Charlie’s chin to make their eyes meet, “I like hearing you talk about us, about what we used to be. We were good.”

She doesn’t know what reply would be appropriate, so she chooses to keep quiet. It has been a while since she’s properly looked into Richard’s eyes.

Maybe Richard isn’t as magnetic as Harry and doesn’t cause emotion to build and build in her chest, only to gently deflate the build back up again, but he’s familiar and comforting all the same. As much as she hates to admit it, it feels nice to see Richard shoot her flirty smirks and order her favourite ice cream without having to ask, it feels nice to have someone want to rebuild a relationship with her, even if it’s not a romantic one.

She decides to let herself lean in. They are just two adults trying to co-parent for the sake of their daughter, nothing more. So what if he makes her blush? Their daughter had to come from somewhere. This is good. Rory gets a chance to be raised by both parents, and maybe once she shirks off the abandoned single mother reputation her parents will see Rory as the blessing she is. Rory will get to have a full family, parents, grandparents, the works.

The only issue with committing to co-parenting with Richard is that she definitely can’t put off telling Harry about it now. No more secrets, she owes him that much.

-

Turns out the universe hates Charlie because again, the opportunity to deliver news to Harry is taken away from her.

“What’s this?” Harry asks as he holds his phone in front of his laptop camera. A grainy photo fills the screen.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Charlie.” His voice is short.

She squints trying to figure out what she is supposed to be looking at. Then, her jaw drops.

“Is that, is that …”

“You and Rory with Richard? Yeah.”

“Wh-what? H-how?” she stutters with bewilderment, “Who took that photo?”

“Some fan, I don’t know.”

“Why would they take a photo, you weren’t with us?”

Harry’s silent for the first time this conversation, seeming to have run out of answers. “H, why did they take a photo?” His hand holding up the photo starts to tremble ever so slightly. “H, what aren’t you telling me?”

“What aren’t you telling me?” he counters.

“Harry.” Her voice is stern now. “Look at me.”

With a huff, he lowers his hand to reveal his tense jaw and furrowed brows. Charlie doesn’t say anything. She’s run of words.

His hand drags down his face slowly. “Because people saw us at the park the last time, so they think monkey’s mine and you’re cheating on me.”

It’s Charlie’s turn to clench her jaw and furrow her brows. “What.”

“That day in the park, someone took a photo of us and we were holding hands and stuff so they think we’re together. You can’t make out Rory’s face they just, they recognise you, so they just assumed.”

“They?”

He clears his throat.

“The fans. The internet.”

The ground disappears beneath her feet. Every hair on her body stands up, her skin feeling cold and prickly. She hears Harry saying her name faintly, but she can’t make out his voice clearly over the ringing in her ears.

“When was this?” Charlie’s whispering now.

“I don’t under-“

“When did the park photos first get posted.”

“Um,” if she could get her eyes to focus through the tears, she would see the dread on his face, “the day after. The day I left.”

Harry could practically hear the wheels grinding in her head.  

“You knew,” she finally says. “You told me to stay offline because of promo. That was right after you left.”

“Love, I –“

“You lied to me. How long did you think you could keep this up before I found out?”

Her tone is so flat that he isn’t sure whether she’s asking him a question or making a statement.

“I was trying to get the photos taken down, I didn’t want you to get scared for no reason.”

Charlie snaps out of her reverie.

“No reason?” Her gaze is piercing, ice cold. “You know damn well I have a good reason to be scared. I think you’re just fucking selfish.”

“Selfish?”

He has the nerve to look offended, she thinks.

“You don’t want me to keep Rory away from you, don’t want me to realise that Rory being seen with you is dangerous. I said over and over that we have to be careful, we can’t just make last minute trips to the park in the middle of the day, but you insisted. Turns out,” she’s close to shouting now, “we were fortunate enough to not be followed home, to not have you walking into my home holding my baby plastered all over the internet, for everyone to see and speculate.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” she laughs humourlessly, “Because I think, no, I know that if you didn’t see the photos with Richard, you would never have told me that millions of people have photos of my daughter.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t want to worry my best friend. And everyone would’ve forgotten about Rory if you weren’t seen parading around with Richard. Who the hell brings their baby on dates, with the man that walked out on them no less? You’ll just let anyone hold Rory then, huh? Have some self-respect, if not for yourself then for Rory.”

“Richard is Rory’s father, he has more of a right to hold Rory than you.” Harry’s jaw snaps shut. “And who I let be around my daughter is frankly none of your business. What, you spend two weeks with her and suddenly know what’s best for her? I am her mother. You do not have the right to tell me how to parent her. And it wasn’t a date, not that it matters. Heaven forbid that Richard had a change of heart and decided that Rory is someone worthy of love. At least he cares enough about Rory to suck up his pride and apologise, unlike you who doesn’t give a shit about her safety.”

He chooses to ignore the words directed at him, feeling too fired up to think rationally. He goes for the low hanging fruit instead. “C’mon, you can’t be stupid enough to think that Richard really changed that much in just one year. He obviously has some sort of motive and you’re dumb enough to fall for whatever bullshit he’s feeding you.”

A bitter taste fills his mouth the moment the words leave his lips. He opens his mouth to take it back, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Fuck you.” All the bite in her voice is gone, reduced to something breathy and shaky.

She disconnects the call not trusting herself to keep it together any longer. Frankly, she’s surprised she’s still sitting up right because all she wants to do is curl up into a ball and will the ground to swallow her whole.

How the hell is she going to do literally anything else for the rest of the day.

Taking advantage of the lump in her throat, she calls work to take a sick day and cancels the sitter. Her head feels like it’s filled with static with her consciousness bouncing from one crisis to another.

But when she sees Rory smiling to herself as she plays in the playpen with the blissful obliviousness only a child can have, it seems like everything stands still. That smile is something special. Nothing else matters. Not her own feelings and definitely not Harry’s feelings.

“My sweet girl,” she coos, reaching to pick Rory up. Her cheeks are rosy and her little baby teeth are on display as she stares at her mother with an open mouthed grin.

The tension in Charlie’s body slowly dissipates as she rocks side to side, her daughter cuddled close to her chest. As if sensing her distress, Rory doesn’t wiggle or kick her legs, simply pressing her cheek firmly against her mother’s chest and reaching her little hand up to rest on Charlie’s neck, as if she’s trying to soothe. Charlie tries her best to repress the memory of what just happened, mindful to not squeeze her daughter too hard.

It’s only when Rory mumbles “mamama” that she breaks and starts to cry.

-

“Harry!”

“Huh? Sorry, I’m listening.”

Harry was in fact not listening, in fact he hasn’t been listening for the past couple of hours, or days really. It’s hard to be excited for a new era, new album, and new tour, when all he wants is to go home and grovel at Charlie’s feet until she forgives him. He can’t believe he was stupid enough to say all that shit to her. If he heard anyone disrespect her and her daughter like that, he would deck them immediately, cameras be damned. But he can’t punch himself silly, so he settles with mentally berating himself. It’s hard to absorb what everyone else is saying when every word he said to Charlie is constantly replaying in his head, only pausing when he does his daily internet browse to make sure no new photos of Charlie and Rory have surfaced.

Normally, he would tell himself to get lost in his work. It’s a little hard to do that this time when so much of the album is about the person he hurt, and it doesn’t help that there are a couple late additions that hit especially hard right now.

He reads through the prepared list of pointers on what to say to skilfully answer questions about the photos with Charlie and Rory yet say absolutely nothing. He sighs. He never wants to have to talk about them in public ever, especially not to Howard Stern.

“So, Harry, I want to talk about a couple of very interesting photos that have emerged over the past couple of weeks. This is, as your fans have deduced, your long time friend and who we presume to be her baby. This picture of the two of you holding hands looks particularly romantic.”

He schools his expression, trying to maintain his unbothered façade. “Sure,” he says simply, hoping that it comes across nonchalant rather than through gritted teeth.

The studio breaks out in polite giggles assuming that his reply is part of some bit he is doing. “Is that all you’re gonna give us I mean, the fans want to know.”

“Really? Well, like you said my fans know that the woman in the photos has been in my life since I was a kid, and they know that I care about the people in my life a lot.”

“Oh, so you’re confirming that the woman in the photos is your childhood best friend, Charlie? That’s good to know. For someone who’s been around you for so long we know very little about her.”

He hates that Stern knows her name. “Umm, well there isn’t much to know. She’s just a regular person, regular job, regular life. So, not much to talk about.” His non-statement is punctuated with a challenging eyebrow quirk as if daring Howard to say anything else about Charlie.

“Okay, I guess that is all Harry Styles wants to give us today everyone.”

Harry has never been so glad to talk about Sarah and Mitch. He’ll have to thank them for taking the heat off him later.

When he’s finally done with a long day of clenching his jaw and biting his tongue, he’s stopped in the carpark by his assistant. “Your apartment security needs you to pick up a package when you get back. They say it has to be by today.”

He assumed that it’s just a wardrobe item from Lambert that needs to be approved, so he’s fully confused by the bouquet of flowers awaiting him. He pulls out the little card.

Dear H,

Congrats on the new album! I know everyone will love it and love you just like we do. I’m proud of the star you’ve become, and Rory and I can’t wait for you to come home, she wants to celebrate with her Uncle Harry. xx

Love, Charlie and Rory

The fact that he made it into the lift before starting to cry is a feat. This wasn’t a breathy, body-wracking kind of cry. He doesn’t even realise he is crying until tears start falling onto the card that he can’t seem to peel his eyes from.

Friends fight all the time, but Harry and Charlie aren’t regular friends. She must have arranged for the delivery before the dreaded call because he isn’t convinced that she’s misses him right now. Why would she.

His heart plumets back to the bottom of his stomach. What is supposed to be a career milestone is now marred by his jealously and possessiveness over someone he has no right feeling that way towards.

He wants to celebrate with them, more than anything. He wants to dance around the living room with Rory in his arms while Charlie drinks in the album with his mum and sister on the sofa. Like a family.

With a restless heart, he squeezes his eyes shut and goes through the rollerdex of memories of the three of them to soothe himself to sleep. 

-

Charlie feels like a terrible friend when she needs to be reminded that her best friend’s third album is dropping via an email invoice from a florist, a florist that she doesn’t even remember engaging. 

She was excited for the release. The sitter has been booked for the night of the One Night Only show, where she intended to debut the Gucci flares Harry bought her to match with him a little, ever since the date got confirmed. Now, she supposes, it’d be stupid of her to assume that he even wants her there, tainting a celebratory night with memories of their falling out.

Was it just a falling out though? There was a finality about it that left a funny feeling in her chest. But there is no way she’s going to be the one to reach out and apologise first. Sure, she said some hurtful things, but so did he. After having forgiven Richard, a task she previously thought would be impossible, she’s frankly over being forgiving.

If she sits unoccupied in silence for too long, the fear that Fine Line may now be the last album release she gets to be a part of would creep in. If she had somehow foreseen this falling out, she would have made more of an effort to celebrate with him that year.

It doesn’t help that on the day of release, Charlie receives a package from LA addressed to her with no return address – not that it’s needed, there’s only one person who would send her stuff from LA. She’s hesitant to open it. Maybe he’s shipped her old books and things back, like an actual break up. That would hurt.

The offending package stays sealed on the coffee table all day, floating in the back of her mind as she moves through a long day of corporate work and mum work. When Rory waddles over and drags it onto the carpet with a thud, she knows that the package can’t be a coffee table fixture any longer.

“You want to see what Uncle Harry sent huh, lovie.”

Rory, wide-eyed and rosy cheeked, leans onto her shoulder for support as she mumbles, “Yummy.” That’s her new word of the week.

Sitting the package in her lap, she slices it open with shaky hands, pre-emptively wincing.

The first thing that greets her is a folded piece of lined paper, clearly ripped out of a notebook. Setting that under her thigh – she’ll tackle that later when she is at liberty to sob into her blanket – item after item gets pulled out of the deceptively small box. Unfolding the pieces of clothing reveals a hoodie with ‘Harry’s House’ printed on the right corner and a shirt with an upside down flowerpot plastered on the front. Accompanying them is a Rory-sized sweat set with the same branding, packed with a note saying, ‘Maybe seeing my name written on her pants will help her learn my name xx’.

A wave of emotion washes over her, breath hitching. She’s confused. He writes as if nothing had happened between them, as if certain he’ll be back to cuddle Rory the moment her bottom lip turns downward.

Leaning to the side to release the note, she unfolds it, which takes an embarrassing amount of tries because she is full on shaking now. Her chest is tight. Her lungs don’t fill fully with air.

Dear Charlie,

I promise to apologise for what I said but I want to do that in person. I understand if you don’t want to see or hear from me, so while I’ll miss you at the shows (you also have Manchester tickets if you change your mind), it won’t feel right if you’re not part of this release. It probably makes me even more of a prick to send you stuff with my face and name all over it but it’s a good thing that being a prick comes naturally to me.

I want you to have something from this release because a piece (a big piece) of the album is yours, just like all the previous albums. You’re my muse always, and now monkey is too. So many of these songs are for you. I’m not going to embarrass you, and me, by telling you which songs were inspired by you and the life we’ve shared. If you can bring yourself to, I want you to listen to the album knowing that there’s no Harry without Charlie, and there are a few songs that I wrote after spending those weeks with the both of you. They were too good to be true and I needed to immortalise those feelings somehow.

I’ll earn your trust again, swear on my life. I want to be in monkey’s life forever, even if it means sharing her with someone else. You can scream and hit me, send me a Christmas list every year, or make me play nice with Richard every day. I’ll do anything. Call if you or monkey need me, and I’ll be right there.

Please let me see the both of you again. I love you. Both of you.

Love,

H xxx

Charlie blinks furiously to try and hold the tears back, eyes stinging from how hard she’s been staring at the letter, reading his words over and over, only forcing herself to look away when her vision gets too blurry.

There’s a good couple of hours before midnight when the album comes out. Hopefully the nightly chores are enough to occupy her mind. She doesn’t know if she’ll make it to midnight if she has to sit in her thoughts for more than a minute.

You’re my muse always. There’s no Harry without Charlie.

That’s all she hears in the back of her head in between each song as she makes her way down the track list, back resting against her headboard. Her mind inadvertently scans each title and lyric for something, anything; anything to help her make sense of what Harry meant.

As It Was lulls her into a false sense of security. That must be the one about her, a song about childhood and change – she ticks all the boxes. A subconscious sigh of relief escapes her lips when the next track starts.

Honestly, Charlie’s not sure what she’s so scared of, this isn’t the first time he’s revealed that she’s inspired songs. He did tell her flat out that he started writing Falling after he woke up from their phone call during an extremely drunk and emotional night. Yet, none of that quite compares to the intimacy of being deemed someone’s muse, a prominent enough source of inspiration for this album to somehow belong to her despite having said or heard nothing. Like she lives in his thoughts, through the flings and the sold out shows, still lingering.

The next two songs are easier pills to swallow. She doesn’t love being reminded that Harry loves love and has good sex, but the years have taught her how to switch off the possessive part of her brain and just enjoy the good music. Needless to say, she’s a little blindsided by the chorus of Matilda.

It’s definitely not subtle. Vague, yes. But not subtle. Doesn’t help that he sent Rory a Matilda picture book like month ago.

It’s like a slap in the face.

She wants to dig up her anger towards Harry and feel offended and hurt, be mad at him for harbouring these feelings about her life as if she didn’t deserve to know. But she knows she can’t, the emotional turmoil and confusion wasn’t enough to turn off the rational part of her brain.

She remembers what he told her: you’re doing such a good job raising her, she’s such a happy baby.

She is starting her own family, with her, Rory, and maybe Richard. Richard probably doesn’t love Rory yet, but he must be on his way. So, Harry’s right, she is starting a family that will be full of love.

This new rush of motivation builds within her until the croon of Boyfriends registers and knocks all it down. She’s sitting up now, eyes narrowed and face scrunched as if the song is a nuanced piece of poetry filled with metaphors and symbolism, instead of a pop song that blatantly slags off shitty boyfriends and relationships.

It just seems a little too on the nose. He did call her stupid, and if she hadn’t hung up on him, he might have called her a fool as well.

Squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose, she wills the creeping feeling that this song is about her and Richard away. He only found out about Richard a couple weeks ago, she reassures herself, there’s no way he wrote, recorded, and produced this song in time.

Unfortunately, one of the other possible explanations might be even worse – he wrote this before Richard was back in the picture, meaning, again, that he has felt this way for more than a month and he just failed to tell her, for whatever reason.

If Harry really thinks that she’s an idiot for letting Richard back in and wanting to be part of a loving family, then she’s crushed. Especially because that would make Rory a clumsy mistake. Collateral damage. A product of her stupidity.

A shiver shoots up her body as she jolts out of her reverie, finger hastily pausing the album.

No, there’s no way. How could she even think that? This is Harry, her Harry. All he’s done is love her, and the tenderness in his eyes whenever he looked at Rory simply cannot be faked. Also, he would never air his disapproval to millions before speaking to her about it. Despite how shitty his words were, he’s not that scummy.  

Tilting her head back to rest against the headboard, she shakily gasps through her mouth as if crying silently. Soon, her breaths quicken, chest rising and falling dramatically. She’s sobbing, but there are no tears. A pathetic sight, truly.

She hates herself. Truly. Turns out being abandoned doesn’t make you more independent. Just desperate for love and approval.

She feels alone and admonished, like she should have known better than to have her hopes pinned on two men. And when she feels like this, the only thing her heart craves is Harry. Her Harry. The Harry who begged her parents to let her come along with Anne to his X Factor audition because having her backstage would make him sing better.

Before she can second guess herself, she reaching for her phone and sends a quick message, not even thinking before pressing send.

It’s good.

With a sigh of resignation, she locks her phone and slides under the covers, ready for the day to end. She turns away from the side table before the screen awakes with a notification.

I’m glad. xx

-

“You wanna dance, Rory?”

Charlie’s making her morning coffee with a smiley baby standing by her on a little babyproof stool.

“Yay!” Rory wears a bright open-mouthed grin, showing off her growing teeth. She’s swaying back and forth, smacking her hands on the countertop.

She’s such a happy baby.

“Hey Google, play Late Night Talking by Harry Styles on Spotify.”

Gripping the safety bar in front of her, Rory starts giggling and bouncing along.

-

Another weekend, another play date with Richard. They’re going to farmers market to let Rory do some arts and crafts with the other local children. It’ll be their first time being co-parents in front of others. Charlie spent all night trying to decide how much of a couple they should be. Most of the other parents would know that they had separated, and because of that stupid photograph, everyone knows that they have reunited in some capacity.

She’s not looking forward to the watchful eyes.

Just when she thinks enough time has passed for the town to no longer find her little scandal exciting, fucking Richard comes back into the picture to invite another season of viewers.

“I’m going to get her cleaned up and changed. Make yourself comfortable, or … reacquainted I guess.”

It’s the first time Richard has made it through the doorway since leaving. He didn’t officially move in when they were together because he insisted on keeping his house as a ‘creative getaway’. In hindsight, that should have been a glaring red flag, especially since ‘creative’ is not how anyone would describe Richard. But it all worked out, in a way. Now that she trusts him to carry her daughter, she figures that he can be trusted to wait in the living room.

When Charlie returns to the living room, Richard is studying the coffee table book about photography she bought as home décor after he left, appearing to be midway through a lap around the living room.

Charlie checked every romance cliché after being abandoned. Cut and dyed her hair, blocked Richard and any mutual friends (or more accurately, his friends that later became ‘their’ friends), and did a deep clean of their previously shared house before redecorating everything – she tried looking at the bright side by constantly telling herself that being alone meant that she could finally decorate how she wanted, without having to accommodate his ‘boy junk’.

The easy to clean, minimalist aesthetic was swapped for a more eclectic one, one that felt her own and cosy. A mustard yellow footstool to accompany a burnt orange rug in the living room, a pair of cow mugs as ornaments on the shelf, and a High School Musical poster she found in at the bottom of her drawer. It’s not like she has one night stands to impress, so why not do her morning skincare next to a Troy Bolton poster blu-tacked next to the dresser. In hindsight, the minimalist living room would be easier to babyproof, but growing up surrounded by colour can’t be a bad thing for a baby.

As much as she hates to admit it, the romcom heroines were right.

Changing these things did feel like she was ridding herself of the past, ridding herself of the Charlie that people were okay leaving behind, the Charlie that was pitiful. It marked the start of a new life for herself.

Seeing a piece of her ‘old life’ in her new living room does feel strange. She can tell he feels strange too. Out of place. From the kitchen, she watches Richard move about as if he’s in a museum, inspecting and observing, occasionally picking things up to get a closer look, hands returning to their place behind his back every time. She tries to get a read on his expression. The coffee table book gets no reaction, his mouth staying in a straight, tight line. Her CD collection, however, gets a brow quirk and a scoff, the latter in response to the Harry’s House CD that accompanied the clothing.

Guess their little man rivalry is still not over.

He doesn’t comment about what she’s done to her house. In fact, he doesn’t say much to her the whole morning. He played nice in front of the other parents at the market, cracking jokes and skilfully skirting around questions about their relationship. He also did well with his daughter, who seemed to finally start to recognise him, helping her reach for markers and stickers, and giving her little high fives. His odd lukewarm energy was only directed at Rory when the radio playing throughout the market started playing a familiar song.

It took a couple seconds for the little girl to register and recognise the synth, but when she did, she turned to look at her mother, as if for confirmation that she is hearing one of the Uncle Harry’s songs. Rory shared a smile with Charlie and used the crafts table to stabilise herself as she bounces along to the music.

“Yeah Rory, it’s Uncle Harry. You like this song, don’t you? My clever girl.” Charlie pushed Rory’s hair away from her eyes. In her periphery, she saw Richard’s face drop into something unpleasant.

It was like his mask slipped for a split second, the change in expression so sudden and abrupt. By the time Rory turned to face him, hoping to dance with him, his features evened back out.

Despite how closely they were being watched, Charlie doesn’t think, or at least she hoped, that anyone else sensed that change in Richard. If not, the rumour mill would not stop turning, spinning some sort of story about a rivalry about these two men competing over her daughter.

Charlie decides to say something once they get back and has Rory’s lunch settled.

“Is something going on? You’ve been kind of quiet today, and at the market you became a little strange.”

 “Oh?” He raises his eyebrows. There is something in his tone that makes Charlie feel like she’s being challenged. “Yeah, you think?”

She fights hard not to roll her eyes. She doesn’t want this to escalate. “We were together for two years. I think I can tell when you’re a little off.”

“Okay, tell me then.”

“You have just been more quiet than usual and when Rory wanted to dance with you, you didn’t try to engage with her like I expected. On any other day I’d think you would have jumped at the opportunity to -”

“- jumped at the opportunity to what? Gain your approval? Win you over? Seems a bit too late for that.”

She’s confused by his sudden animosity. “No, not mine. Rory’s.”

“Hah. Seems like its too late for that too.”

“Okay, what’s going on?”

He leans against the kitchen counter and folds his arms. “Nothing, nothing.” He takes a sip of water. “I’ve just realised that Harry fucking Styles is always going to be one step ahead of me and I don’t know why I try.”

“Harry?” she asks. After a beat of silence, she asks again. “What does Harry have to do with anything?”

“You tell me because for some reason, even when it comes to my daughter, he wins. I thought that a couple weeks head start can’t be that much, I’m her father. Yet for some reason, he’s managed to win her over before I could get a fair shot.” He rolls his eyes then mumbles, “She must get that from you.”

Charlie takes a beat to stew over his words. There’s something about what he said that makes her stomach turn. At first, she thinks it’s his tone, that mix of condescension and arrogance, as if he was robbed of something, as if she robbed him of something.

“Richard, if something is bothering you just tell me what it is and stop speaking in code. Whatever weird competition you think you have with –“

She freezes midsentence, unblinking.

“What?” he asks.

Her head snaps to face the man in her kitchen. Rory, who appears to be oblivious to the tension in the air, continues to fist smushed blueberries into her mouth.

“How did you know Harry met Rory before you?”

He thinks for a second, then says, “Because you have his album lying around and photos with him on the fridge. And c’mon, one of his new songs play and Rory is somehow able to recognise it.”

“No, you specifically said that he met her a couple weeks before you.” A beat of silence passes. Then, the lump in her throat grows so large that she has to physically swallow before she can speak again. “I think,” she pauses to steady her voice, “I think you lied to me. You lied to me about not knowing that I kept the baby.”

“Woah, lied is a bit of a strong word Charles,” he says, still trying to keep his tone casual.

Charlie’s having none of it. She’s over being lied to and made to look the fool.

She goes straight in, sounding nothing short of accusatory. “Why did you come back, Richard? Because of some sick game you think you have with Harry, some sick game that you’ve decided to drag me and my daughter into?”

“Oh, so now she’s back to being your daughter is she?”

“Please, you don’t have to act like you care about her anymore. Tell me the truth. Now.”

“Fine,” he throws his hands up like he’s being accosted, “do you know how humiliating it is to find out about your daughter from everyone else? How much it sucks to be sent link after link of Daily Mail articles because your daughter has apparently been photographed with Harry Styles? For fuck’s sake.”

“Do you know how humiliating it is to have basically the whole town know that your long term partner doesn’t love you enough to stay and raise a child with you? You didn’t even stay long enough to talk about it, ask whether I wanted to keep or abort it. The minute you heard I was pregnant you took off spouting some bullshit excuse.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. Is that what you want to hear? But I spent years being compared to Harry. Your friends, family, neighbours, everyone. All they talked about was how sweet Harry is, how successful Harry is. He may have managed to charm everyone else in this town, but he has not fooled me. I see him for the cocky douche he is. I tried to be nice to him because he’s your best friend or whatever, but I’m tired of being the bigger person and ignoring his stupid smirks and snide comments. And because you decided to go parading around with him and Rory, all I’ll ever hear is how good he looks with her. I can’t let that fucker haunt me even after I’ve washed my hands off of you.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you,” she goes to pick Rory out of the highchair and hugs her protectively to her chest, “but doesn’t just look good with her, he is good with her. And whatever perceived rivalry you have with Harry doesn’t justify anything. I’m sorry your male ego is hurt but all of that is in your head, and if you thought that you could be a good father by being fuelled by your pride, then you’re more of an idiot than I thought.

“You lied to me, and you lied to my daughter. What was your plan? To play the role of a doting father until you got Rory more attached to you than to Harry, then disappear from her life again once you felt satisfied? Get a grip Richard, you’re almost 30. No one is playing these stupid games but you.

“I know those years meant nothing to you, but it meant something to me, and I’d appreciate it if you’d think about someone else for once and never come near me or my daughter ever again.”

Richard scoffs, face straining so hard that he’s almost vibrating. “Fine. Don’t come crawling back to me for help when Mr. Popstar gets too busy for the both of you. If you want to be delusional and think that he’s going to stick around this little town for you, you are more than welcome.”

His gaze on them as he leaves is so piercing that she instinctively cups the back of Rory’s head to shield her.

When the door slams shut, her daughter flinches in her arms a little. The silence is deafening, ringing in her ears as the weight of what just happened slowly sinks in.

Mindlessly, her body moves to wash the dried food on Rory’s face and seats her in the middle of the play area. Charlie’s body all but crumples onto the sofa, eyes staring straight ahead. Feeling tears start to well, she tips her head back to look up at the ceiling, willing them back into her eyes. She refuses to cry over that piece of shit ever again.

At least she managed to keep herself from screaming. The last thing she wants is to scare her daughter.

She’s such a happy baby.

She feels like she’s underwater. Everything around her is blurry, head filled with muffled voices. Her head feels like it’s rocking, being pushed and pulled by the rolling of waves as she slowly floats to the surface. Like the sharpness of taking a deep gasp of air, there is a pinch in her chest that forces her to come to her senses and digest the intensity of the last fifteen minutes.

Apparently, she is incapable of keeping people from walking out of her life. Even with her best efforts and best intentions, she managed to push away two people from Rory’s life - one person twice - all before she turns two. That has to be some kind of record.

It’s funny, she feels raw and wounded. Richard came and plugged this hole in her heart, the hole that he happened to leave behind. And yet now, she is in no hurry to mend that hole, to rebuild those walls and go back to not needing anyone else. Making amends is admitting defeat, admitting that Richard had the power to hurt her; trying to undo the damage means acknowledging that there is damage, and wearing her weakness on her sleeve.

She’s tired.

So what if people know that she’s unwanted goods? You can’t break what’s already broken. If people want to come in and out of her life, so be it. The only person she needs to protect is Rory. People can use her until they lose interest for all she cares. They just can’t use Rory. She’s more than happy to be an emotional punching bag if it means that she keeps her daughter sheltered from it all.

Harry was right. She is stupid. Stupid to think that Richard had a change of heart and stupid to be so ready to let people into Rory’s life. Good thing Richard left as soon as he came. Rory didn’t get a chance to get attached to him, unlike with Harry. 

Harry. She needs to apologise to Harry.

-

Charlie is a coward. A coward and a pushover.

All the pink cowboy hats and feather boas in the train carriage are mocking her. She keeps her head tipped downwards, staring down at her phone, hoping that none of the fans recognise her.

She knew this was a bad idea. But when Anne calls telling you how excited she is to finally be going to a concert with you again, how do you say no. She can’t exactly tell Anne that her son called her stupid and a crap mother, so she’s still too hurt to see him, but turns out he was right so she is also embarrassed.

The train to London was nerve wrecking. All she could think about was what to say to him when they finally met, if she should apologise first, and if they should talk then and there. Some higher power must have been working in her favour because the train got delayed just enough to allow her to make it for the concert while skipping the pre-show socialising in the friends and family area where Harry was sure to have made an appearance.

Leaning against the train window, the roughness of the tracks causes her head to jostle around. It’s a welcomed disturbance. It keeps her anchored to reality, stopping her from getting too lost in the mental image of Harry’s face when he spotted her in the crowd. If she had blinked, she would have missed it. Just the quickest flash of realisation, brows falling for a split second, almost impossible to read from so far away. She has no idea if it was relief or disappointment. It didn’t help that he proceeded to avoid eye contact with her for the rest of the concert.

So, she fled. Using Rory as an excuse, as per usual. She told Anne and Gemma she had to catch the next train home and couldn’t stick around to wait to see Harry. After smiling apologetically when Anne half-heartedly scolded her for not bringing Rory with her, she wedged her purse securely under her arm and legged it, making her way to the station amidst the swarm of fans who were still screaming and crying from the experience.

It is only when she locks the front door behind the babysitter that she lets her guard down, shoulders slouching and face falling, exhausted from contorting her face and body to hopefully emanate the vibe that she was happy to be there. She was, truly. She loves supporting him. Supporting him just becomes ten times more exhausting when you are constantly self-conscious about how you are being perceived by the thousands of people in the arena, and worried that you are unwanted.

Despite how drained she is, sleep does not come easy. She is restless, her head refusing to stop going a hundred miles an hour. She isn’t even thinking about anything really, it’s just white noise, refusing to go away.

Finally, she reaches for her phone. Squinting at the sudden brightness, the text is typed and sent in less than a minute.

Sorry I couldn’t stay, but I’m proud of you. Electric as always.

Her heart settles when the small ‘delivered’ sign appears.

When she wakes up, there is no reply.

taglist (lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part): @harrysfolklore @behindmygreyeyes @suspectedstyles @celestial-holland @xcaitlin101x @outofthisworl-d @haz-nn @zaynshoes @lissymarie22

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #bestfriend!harry #harry styles writing

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

I see so many people discussing and complaining about “larrybaiting” so I wanted to ask you if have any opinions on this in general. What even should be defined as “Larrybaiting” and is this really a thing that people are right to consider, at all? I always feel so lost when I only see that term being thrown around bc not only does the conversation behind it almost always remind me of the ones behind the Harry styles queerbaiting accusations but also does it seem to be an excuse to justify peoples interpretations of art and those are always subjective.

I don't think 'Larrybaiting' exists - and I mean that in several different ways.

I don't think Harry and Louis need to do things to persuade Larries that they're together. I think it's incredibly clear to them and their teams that if they just live their lives Larries will tell stories about them being together. I think the idea that a celebrities team would look at a group of people who have decided that a third of the colour spectrum is a sign that two people are in a relationship together and think - 'we must make sure we carefully nurture this part of the fandom'.

As I say quite often - I think the idea that Louis and Harry are 'larrybaiting' is fans thinking the world revolves around them when it doesn't (the Carly Simon song). It's fans denying that they're doing their own storytelling and assuming that everything they see must be put there. Ultimately I think it's quite dehumanising, both for fans and for Louis and Harry.

I do think they and their teams probably take into account that Larries are a part of their fanbase, but it'd be in tedious ways that aren't particularly noticeable to us.

But I also want to reject the whole 'baiting' framework. I don't believe queerbaiting exists. By that I both mean that I don't agree with an understanding of queer culture that casts some engagement with as illegitimate because it is 'queerbaiting. But I also mean that every time I've seen someone give an example of 'queerbaiting' it's seemed to me wildly unlikely that what was that either creators of art or people were engaging with queerness specifically to trick or trap queer people. (That's the whole problem with 'bait' as a framework - you can't 'bait' someone accidentally - and therefore baiting assumes that if you experience something it must be because someone wanted you to experience that thing - which is a terrible way to engage with art of people).

I really encourage people to acknowledge they are co-creators of the experiences they have with art. The idea of 'baiting' is basically - either my experience is the one truth of this thing, or someone has done something wrong to try and trick me. It's a really fucked up way to navigate the world.

#Nobody is baiting you #that is I think a really important starting point to navigating the world

[sideprince]

“How do you split your soul?’ ‘Well,’ said Slughorn uncomfortably, ‘you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.’ ‘But how do you do it?’ ‘By an act of evil - the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: he would encase the torn portion - '

-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (emphasis mine)

Dumbledore did a lot of shitty things to Snape, and asking Snape to kill him was definitely one of them, but I don't think he thought for a second that it would damage Snape's soul. Dumbledore had all the Horcrux books in his office that Tom Riddle used to make his own and I have no doubt he studied them. As Slughorn says, splitting the soul happens by the act of murder. It's the act of deliberately and non-consentually taking a life. But because Dumbledore not only agreed to being killed, but especially because he suggested it, literally asked for it, it wasn't murder. When you take someone off life support it's not murder. Not every act of killing is murder.

That doesn't mean ending someone's life doesn't hurt or affect you, of course. It was a lot to ask of Snape, who was already risking his own life, and it set him up to be more of a target in the long run. But it was also an incredible act of trust and intimacy in its own way. I don't think Snape and Dumbledore had a healthy relationship (not by a longshot) but it was definitely complex.

When Dumbledore said "...please..." on the Astronomy Tower what he was really saying was, "it's ok, I'm ready. I'm fine." For all the terrible things he had done to Snape, Dumbledore's last words were to him, and they were words of reassurance. I don't know how I feel about how effective they were, and those two's relationship tends to raise more ethical questions for me than it answers, but I think in his own way Dumbledore was trying to atone for what he'd done to Snape over the years, and what he was asking him to do then.

#meta

[gurugirl]

The Tiffany Club Part 7

Summary: Camille is a sex club worker living in NYC. She meets Harry, a private equity CEO millionaire one day and they realize they like each other. A lot. But will Harry be willing to overlook Camille’s career choice?

AN/Warning: I will have a * by the parts when smut is included. This warning list is comprehensive for all parts, not all contain smut or listed warnings. NSFW, smut, oral (male and female), 18+ only (as always), angst, dom & sub themes, sex work, light alcohol use, mentions of disordered eating and food restrictions

Pairing: Sex club worker Camille x Harry Styles

Part 6

Part 7

Camille

When Harry told me he had been seeing someone else I can’t say I was too terribly surprised. I barely know the guy and he’s gorgeous and rich. Of course he’s got some woman somewhere he’s fucking. Looking the way he does it’s impossible for him to be single.

His explanation for everything seemed legit and then he called her right in front of me, put the phone on speaker, and broke up with her. I’ve never had a guy so desperate to prove to me he was breaking up with a girlfriend. Or, well, not girlfriend according to Harry. But still. Same thing as far as I’m concerned.

Is it shitty of me to expect a guy I want to date to be single? I don’t think it is. Yes, I might have a monthly session where I’m getting paid to have sex with a married man, but that’s work. I don’t have feelings for Edmond. The money is too good to pass up, though. I get a minimum of $10k a month from one man. Sometimes he gives me more, depending on what he wants. But even with that, I consider myself single. Some guys really think that they can date me and see other women at the same time, but I don’t deal with that. My job is separate from my personal life and I won’t be working at the club forever. I have standards and if the guy I’m seeing has a job like mine, then of course I wouldn’t mind what he did at work as long as he’s not seeing other people on his off hours. I need to be the only one.

I was surprised, though, that Harry called her right in front of me. It made me feel a little better about his situation. Then, the more I thought about our situation I realized he’s right. We had just met. If what he’s telling me is true about intending on breaking up with her before he met me then I can understand. Plus, after hearing Lindsay on the phone with him, yeah, she sounds like a true bitch.

I really did want to have sex with him. It’s been a while since I’ve had really good sex with a man so attractive. I’ve been a little desperate lately, actually. And Harry looks the type that he can give what he says he can. Plus, when I was straddling him and kissing him (he’s a phenomenal kisser by the way, already a good sign) I could feel the thick bulge in his pants. And I do mean thick-thick. I even got a little glimpse when I moved off his lap. The crotch of his pants was tight and he’s got some length to him as well from what I could tell. But a big dick does not mean a good fuck. However, just his admission of being good at cunnilingus made my mouth water. He could be all talk, though. The last guy that went down on me was a clueless prick. I had to ask him for it, first of all (bad sign), and when he did go down on me he was only down there for like five minutes before he thought that was good enough to try and fuck me. I was barely even warmed up. His lack of enthusiasm was obvious and he barely licked over me, mostly used his fingers. I don’t know if he even made contact with my clit. Because after five minutes of hard labor down there he acted like I must have been ready for him to put his dick inside of me. I kicked him out before we got that far. I asked him why he stopped and he really had the gall to tell me it was difficult eating women out and he found women preferred him to just fuck them because he’s better at that. I laughed in his face and pointed to the door.

Harry’s flirtatious and confident attitude has me turned on, though. Part of me regrets telling him he needed to take me on a date first. Like, I could really use a good orgasm. And not one that’s brought on with my vibrator. Like, I need a good old-fashioned dicking from an attentive man. Harry fits the bill pretty well, or perfectly actually. I have no doubt he could show me a good time in the sack.

When we finish eating I wrapped up the rest of the pizza and Harry washed the plates we ate off of. He insisted on washing them and part of me swooned over it. God, am I that hard up that a man who washes the dishes makes me wet? Yes. I am in fact. When that man continues to promise me how good he can make me feel, when he touches my hip and looks into my eyes the way he does, when he grins deeply, causing his dimple to appear and he looks like a god doing it… Yeah. Oh yeah.

I’m not ready to kick him out but I don’t know what I want as we sit back on the couch. Do I want him to stay a little longer and we can talk (yes, I do) or do I want to wrap this up and then change into my pajamas and watch Netflix with Barry and smoke weed (yes, I do).

“Uh… do you want to watch something? I’ve got Netflix and regular cable.” I shrug as I turn the TV on. Now commence the awkwardness.

“Sure. If you don’t mind. I don’t want to be a bother. I can leave if you need me to. But I haven’t got anything else going on today, so…” he looks at me with his big green eyes. His lips are pink and ready to be kissed. His hands are placed over his lap while he’s got his legs spread wide, which draws my eyes toward his crotch again. He’s not hard anymore but there’s a sure bump where I know his prick must be. Even when he’s soft he’s prominent under his pants. I quickly look back up to his eyes and he’s smirking at me. I watch as he looks down between his legs and back to me. He licks his lips and draws them into his mouth. He’s waiting for me to respond but he’s caught me ogling his crotch.

“You can stay. I didn’t make any other plans today. But only if you want.” I try my hardest to keep my eyes on his eyes. But Harry is suddenly dragging his gaze over my body, slowly, and then back up to meet my eyes. Probably as a way of telling me he knows what I was doing and he’s not ashamed to respond in kind.

“I’ll stay then. I think I quite like your company, Camille.” He smiles sincerely at me this time and I return the smile. I begin flicking through options for us to watch as we discuss what we’re in the mood for. We decide on something easy to watch so we can talk if we want. It’s something we’ve both seen already and Harry insists he doesn’t mind watching.

About 15 minutes into the show I realize I’m not paying any attention. I’m so focused on Harry next to me on my couch in my small apartment. The handsome man next to me is drawing my attention without doing a damn thing. He’s literally just sitting on the couch, one leg folded over the other, an ankle over his knee and his arms spread over the backrest of the couch. If he were to move his hand forward just a hint, he’d touch my shoulder. I can feel the heat emanating off his hand, it’s that close to my shoulder. I sigh and pretend to be engaged with the TV but I’m feeling buzzy and a little horny. Now that Harry has agreed we won’t do anything sexual it’s like I want him more. I internally scold myself for being so desperate but I can’t stop my hormones from responding to this man. I squirm a little and cross my legs together, squeezing lightly as I reposition myself. My heart won’t stop hammering and I realize my breathing is a little ragged as well. I need to pull myself together.

“Y’okay?” Harry’s deep voice startles me. I look over at him and he appears genuinely concerned, not overly but there’s clear care etched in his features. I laugh a little and nod and Harry’s smile deepens in response, his dimples displayed. The attractive fucker. 

“Uh, yeah. M’fine.” I don’t look away from him as his eyes are still on mine. He drags his eyes down over my thighs and back up to my eyes and gives me an approving nod and hums in response before turning his attention back to the TV. Fuck if I didn’t want him to make some kind of move but I have a feeling he’s keeping in place the boundaries I just set and I want to stab myself for telling him we should hold off. But, the wait will be worth it, right? Like I shouldn’t be jumping into bed with him so fast. I know that. However, having him be so understanding with my request makes me want to tear him apart and fuck his brains out all night. Just imagining his hands on me makes me squirm again, repositioning myself.

When I’ve re-crossed my legs and settled down into a similar but new position as I was before I feel the burning weight of one of Harry’s fingers on my shoulder since my repositioning allowed me to get closer. I swear it was subconscious. I didn’t do it intentionally. I keep my gaze on my TV, not knowing what’s happening with the group of characters having a somewhat dramatic moment. Harry chuckles at the show and I realize, he knows what’s going on and he’s paying attention. That means he’s not as bothered by my presence as I am by his and it makes me feel even more frantic in my horniness. God, there’s something about a hot man ignoring you just enough to make you wet. Or is that just me? I think I've some serious issues. I try and laugh a little bit as well at the TV and watch Harry from the corner of my eye to make sure I was laughing at an appropriate moment. Then I feel his finger drag lightly over my shoulder. A quick press and caress of his finger to a small part of my shoulder has made me smolder even more and I gulp thickly at the barely evident contact. I pause all my movements so I can feel his finger on my clothed shoulder.

“This okay?” Harry’s voice startles me again. I realize he’s asking me if it’s okay that he’s touching my shoulder. He’s not even got his whole hand on me, literally just a finger smoothing over a small square inch area and he’s asking me if it’s okay. I turn my head to look at him and smile, trying to act nonchalant.

“Oh yeah. Barely noticed. Sure…” I turn my head back to the TV and roll my eyes at myself. Barely noticed my ass. My panties tell a completely different story right now. Harry continues his light strokes over my shoulder and I melt into him slowly. I even lean my head back slightly without realizing it at first. When I move to recross my legs and reposition my bum comfortably I have made myself a few inches closer to him. Now Harry has a little more access to my shoulder and even my neck if he wants. I’m hoping he does something about it.

When I hear Harry hum and take a deep breath I turn my head to look at him. He’s still looking at the TV when he speaks, “You sure you’re okay, there? Seem a bit restless to me.” He turns his head to look at me and smirks and then his hand is moving toward my neck, light, delicate rubs that send me soaring into my thoughts. “Y’keep crossing your legs and you don’t seem to be paying any attention to the show. S’it boring to you? Should we try another one?” I can see the challenge in his eyes. He knows exactly what’s going on here and what its doing to me, his cocky smirk indicates as much.

“Uhhh…” I think about how to answer. I want to move things forward with him because now I’m so horny my panties are wet and he smells so good, and I haven’t had sex with a man I was interested in for nearly five months. I swallow while I consider how to approach this. Harry’s hands scratch up the nape of my neck and he repositions his legs so that he’s angled toward me now, giving me his full attention. The delicate touch of his finger tips on my bare neck cause my brain to blank out. I don’t know what to say or how to say it. I’m not usually like this with men. If I want something I say it, but in this instance, I’m at a loss.

When I feel Harry’s fingers wind into the hair at the nape of my neck he pulls lightly, causing my head to pull back and he directs my gaze to him. I nearly lose it, my mouth parts and eyes widen at his gesture. It’s not aggressive but it’s dominant and I want him now.

The look on his face is serious as he licks over his lips before speaking, “I asked if you were okay. Are you?” His brows furrow slightly and he directs his attention to my lips and over my neck then back up to my eyes as I gulp. My heart is pounding and I want to tell him to fuck me right now and right here.

I clear my throat because I would have spoken in a croak if not and take in a breath before speaking, Harry’s hands still I my hair, keeping my head tilted toward him, “I… I am okay. Yes. I just… think I haven’t been with a man I’m interested in for quite a while and right now I have one in my apartment and it’s distracting. That’s all.” I take another deep breath and let out a small laugh but Harry’s demeanor doesn’t change. He’s still looking at me with a serious gaze, but there’s something else there. He looks hungry but he’s not going to indulge until I give him the green light.

“I see. Well, like you said, next time I take you on a date we can break your dry spell, I guess. That’s what you still want, correct?” Our eyes are locked and I swallow again before shaking my head as much as I can with Harry’s hands holding me in place by my hair.

“Maybe we could… I don’t know." I sigh and close my eyes before finding the confidence to speak what I want, "Forget I said that.” Harry releases my hair and removes his hand from me completely, his expression giving nothing away about how he’s feeling. His jaw clenches and he leans in closer to me.

“Forget you said that…” Harry hums and then looks down toward my thighs again and then back up to me, cocking his head slightly, “...you’ll need to expand on that thought for me. Tell me what you want.” His presence is hard to escape. His eyes locked on mine make me feel brain dead. My heart is throbbing and I’m uncomfortably horny. Harry seems so composed.

“Fuck.” I groan and uncross my legs so my thighs are flat on the couch and I rub my palms over them a couple of times to somehow bring my soul back into my body, to ground myself. “Yeah. I want to forget I said that. I think I changed my mind. I want… to kiss you?” I sound unsure but I know I want him. For some reason he’s got me feeling coiled up tightly and it makes me anxious with my voice coming out unsure.

Harry finally breaks his serious façade and he laughs, breathing out through his nose as he does so. He seems to have moved in closer to me now and he brings just a thumb to my knee. He watches me closely. Like he’s waiting for me say something else. I look down to where his thumb is rubbing small circles over my clothed knee and then back to his eyes and I nod. I don’t know why I nod but I want him to keep going. Keep touching me. Do more. Yes.

He licks his lips and looks down to my thighs and smirks, “Bet you’ve got yourself all wet for me, now, haven’t you? Can tell just by the way you can’t stop fidgeting.” He chuckles before placing his full palm over my knee and rubbing up my thigh a few inches. He brings an arm up over the backrest again, while his other hand remains on my thigh, “So, you want to kiss me? You have my permission, darling. If that’s what you want. In fact, I give you permission to do anything you want to me. Green light right here. Ball is in your court.”

His eyes drop to my lips then back to my eyes. I pause for a minute to collect myself. He’s so close and so warm. I decide to get on with it. He’s given me the “green light”.

I slowly lean in toward him as I bring a hand to his shoulder, my other on the couch between us, near his thigh. As I get closer to him, he leans toward me to make my task easier. When I finally press my lips to his my mind once again clears itself of thought. It’s only lips, and saliva, tongues, noses, moans and hands. Harry’s soft lips on mine, his harsh grip on my thigh, breathing heavily through his nose, his hand over my neck drawing me closer. I move my hand to his thigh and scoot in closer to him. He welcomes my nearness. I want to straddle him again, sit on his lap to make this easier but his grasp on my thigh has me unable to easily do so. I moan into his mouth and he returns the noise. He begins to drag his lips over my jaw and down to my neck and I gasp when I feel him suck on my pulse point. His hand moves further up my thigh, closer to my zipper and I’m spinning. I move my hand close to his zipper and when Harry moves his lips over my neck to the other side and back over the other jaw he closes his lips back over mine and squeezes the back of my neck. On instinct I bring my palm over the crotch of his pants to feel him hard underneath and he gasps, pulling away from me. His smile is naughty, dirty, his lips parted, nostrils flaring.

“You don’t just want to kiss me do you? You want more?” He removes the hand he’s got over my thigh and brings it up to my face, both hands cupping my cheeks and drawing me back into him, his lips caressing mine slowly, sensually, sloppily. He pulls back again, “Ask nicely and you’ll get anything you want.” He puts his mouth on my neck and I draw my head back to give him access to anything he wants. I moan out the word yes and then I allow myself to feel his lips draw kisses over my hot skin.

After a moment I find my voice, certain of what I want from him, “I want to feel you, taste you… make you come.” The words fall out in a breathy moan that sounds desperate.

Harry lifts his lips off of my neck and pecks a kiss to my lips before he says, “As long as I can make you come too, then your wish is my command.”

Part 8*

#harry fic #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fiction #ceo harry #harry styles fanfic

[missnight0wl]

Hi I was just wondering what you thought about Peregrine's motivations? They seem very ambiguous so far and personally I would hate it if JC went with the whole 'he's just an evil person narrative'.

Hello!

You know, I don’t think that Peregrine is simply evil for the sake of being evil. For example, look at how he talked about his career:

Frankly, I believe that it might be the only thing he was genuine about. And to be clear: I mean the parts about helping people, not about “deeply regretting” being a shitty father. He seems to be quite proud of his job, too. I imagine that in his mind, he was actually making many lives better. And let’s not forget that Rakepick told us that R’s mission is “saving the world”. The problem is that his approach to it is all wrong.

Peregrine is a megalomaniac with a bit of a god complex. Notice how he talks about joining R:

Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if he considers himself the Chosen One or something. And when it comes to power? Well…

But like… everything he says can be applied to R as well. Because what exactly makes him think that it’s R who’s supposed to take that knowledge and that power? Why the change is supposed to be made by them? Again, I suspect that Peregrine believes that they can make the world better. But the parts about the Ministry being corrupted etc.? Yeah, it’s mostly about eliminating the obstacles on a way to realising their vision of a better world.

Also, it’s interesting that they talk about Dumbledore in this scene. Because there’s another quote by Dumbledore that’s very fitting for this situation (well, I guess that from the game’s point of view, it wasn’t said yet…):

It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.

Yes, we all know that Albus is no saint himself and whatnot. But personally, I really like this quote. And as I said, I think it’s quite perfect for the occasion. Because Peregrine is clearly someone who seeks power. And in the HP universe, it usually ends badly, especially when one tries to excuse their actions by “the greater good”.

As for more specific ideas about what “saving the world” might mean, I actually talked about it more in this post. In short though, it comes down to the ability to bring people back from the dead. And to be honest, I still think it’s not a terrible guess. Especially now when – minor spoilers from the datamines – it was revealed that Olivia worked at the Department of Mysteries, where the Veil is located.

Overall, I wouldn’t say it’s a super complex or original motivation for a villain – but I guess it’s better than being evil for the sake of being evil. Of course, it could be elaborated by the addition of why Peregrine is so obsessed with helping people, for example. I don't see the explanation for that so far.

Also, I said it once, but I’ll say it again: I think that in different circumstances, Peregrine could’ve been a decent villain. My main problems with him are that his reveal had literally no build-up and that MC is basically passive about… well, everything.

#long post #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm spoilers #hphm peregrine #hphm r #about characters #ask #anonymous

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

what are your thoughts on the following pairings:

harry/dumbledore (lmfao)

remus/sirius

remus/peter

dumbledore/sirius

dumbledore/hermione

Most of those are answered here. Use the master post, yo, it's a wild ride.

Though I have to wonder, anon, how the fuck did you come up with this list? "Oh, I'll just pick arbitrary characters to throw together" or "tee hee, these are terrible, I wonder what Muffin will possibly say about terrible things!"

Regardless, I believe the only ones I haven't addressed are Harry/Dumbledore and Sirius/Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore/Harry Potter

Well, this gets into the uncomfortable trope that had people feeling a little squeamish when it was originally announced that Dumbledore is canonically gay: the predator gay adult.

This trope has thankfully, disappeared for the most part, but there was a time when where you did see a male homosexual character in media, it was almost only ever in the role of a predator who preys on young boys under his authority.

With Dumbledore, if you want to go the Dumbledore/Harry route, you run into this problematic stuff that's really, really, very gross.

Dumbledore was Harry's headmaster, while he did mostly keep his distance, he also was far more familiar with Harry than most students. They had private lessons with no supervision, where Dumbledore was grooming Harry for suicide.

Harry, for his own part, very much hero worships Albus throughout the series and is devastated to learn that Dumbledore set him up for death and may not have been the perfect man he thought he was. Even then, his coming to terms with what happened is deciding after dying that the dead Albus must feel terrible, truly awful, about what happened and had no other choice. The bravest man Harry knows!

We're looking at someone primed to be taken advantage of by his hero. I mean, er, more than he already was taken advantage of.

That Harry was 16 when they started having these one on one several hour long meetings means that if we're in shipping territory... I really don't want to go there.

Of course, there's always the time travel option where Harry goes back in time as a like aged adult, or the AU option where they're office mates, but hm...

Well, let's just say Albus Dumbledore really messed Harry up canonically, and even in an AU world if you're keeping any of Albus's character it's probably going to fuck Harry up.

So, let's not go there.

Albus Dumbledore/Sirius Black

Well, we're back to sort of the above issues of Albus abusing his power over people and entering imbalanced relationships (yes, even if it's with the adult Sirius who followed him in the Order of the Phoenix and was shortly left in Azkaban) but you also get the other stuff like Sirius being left in Azkaban then, when he gets out, being put effectively under house arrest.

There's also the fact that the two don't seem to care much about one another.

Oh, Sirius think Dumbledore is a great leader and all but is not any more zealous than some of the other Order members (or Harry, for that matter, who was off creating "Dumbledore's Army"). Dumbledore, for his own part, rarely meets with Sirius and doesn't seem to consider him much beyond any other Order members.

There's just nothing there.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #harry potter shipping #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #albus dumbledore/harry potter #anti albus dumbledore/harry potter #sirius black #anti sirius black/albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion #shipping

[briarlovesginny]

but it's not real, and you don't exist

35 ways to say i love you number 13: in a letter | lily evans potter and sirius black (platonic)

this is a part of the 35 ways to say "i love you" writing collection. check out the rest!

PREVIEW/SYNOPSIS:

"I feel like I’m going insane every time I have to write down my memories of another friend to you. It sounds horrid, but above all I dread a day where I’m writing to someone about you. Isn’t that terrible of me? I miss all of the people we’ve lost, and I cared about them, but I didn’t love them the way I love you."

content warnings: main character death, mentioned minor character death, implied/referenced betrayal, suicidal thoughts, loss of loved ones

Dear Padfoot,

James and I cannot for the life of us decide which of these photos to use for our Christmas card this year. Before you laugh, I know it’s early July, and by the time we use them Harry will be double his current size, but we knew this would happen, so we decided to start the whole process early. 

How have you been? It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve seen you. I’m sure the Order is keeping you as busy as it’s keeping us, even with Harry. We wrote to Frank and Alice to make sure Dumbledore wasn’t just getting back at us for the bubblegum frogs in Year 5, but they’re swamped too. I told them I’d try to round up a Marauder to double babysit sometime-- I asked Peter since he loves kids so much, but he’s somehow even busier than the rest of us combined. I do miss him dearly, though.

We got the terrible news about Benjy Fenwick last week. I know it’s silly to say, but that night I just lay in bed and thought about how much alike you two looked. I remembered how kind you were to him, even though he was two years younger, and how you’d joke so much about being his brother that even the teachers called him Regulus sometimes. He was quiet, but when he laughed he wouldn’t stop for ages, remember?

I feel like I’m going insane every time I have to write down my memories of another friend to you. It sounds horrid, but above all I dread a day where I’m writing to someone about you. Isn’t that terrible of me? I miss all of the people we’ve lost, and I cared about them, but I didn’t love them the way I love you.

And I do love you, Sirius. If this war has taught me anything, it’s that we need to tell people we love them. More than even a “love you” when you leave, or only remembering the dead by how close they were to you. So I’ll write it again, just in case it keeps you safe: I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Please write back with a decision about the card. You know there’s no one’s opinion we value more.

Forever yours, 

Lily

7/7/81

Lily,

Oh, my Lily. My James. 

It is with great sadness that I am writing this letter to you, doing exactly what we both feared the most-- remembering each other. But no post is allowed outside of this God-forsaken place, and I couldn’t send it to you even if there was.

I can’t believe you’re gone. Every day I wake up and when I see where I am, I wish I was dead, but then I scold myself for even thinking that. It is the worst feeling in the world to be alive and wishing to be dead, when all you really want is to be with your friends again.

A close second on the worst feelings list is that Remus thinks I did it. That is almost as unbearable as losing you. I’ve seen the papers-- the only thing they allow in or out, when the Minister comes by every so often. I can’t tell whether I’m glad or not that I haven’t seen an interview with Remus yet. I don’t think I could bear reading his words. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. The Marauders disbanded, all in one night. He must be so alone.

I don’t want to talk about the articles I’ve seen about the rat. He doesn’t even deserve to have his name on a letter to you.

Someone died in their cell last night. I used to hear them talking with their neighbors (or maybe cellmates, who can tell?), but they’re quiet now. The Dementors should come and get them soon enough. Maybe the rows of graves will reach outside of my window before I die, so I can at least say grace for the few poor souls near me. 

I have no idea where Harry is. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I couldn’t protect him. I heard that Hagrid got him-- I hope that’s true. 

You were always the best of us, Lils. I’m so sorry you had to be taken away from him so early. From James. From your life. And selfishly, most of all from me. 

I wish my words could change things. Sometimes, on my bad nights, I lay here and think that if I just try hard enough, I can go back and fix it all. That I could protect you. I once even dreamed the cruelest dream I’ve ever had, where it had worked, and I got to hold your face and say ‘I love you’ again. 

This letter will be neatly folded into an envelope shape and put somewhere or other. Where it goes isn’t important-- I’m not keeping it, it’s not FOR me, and I doubt the Dementors will care. Maybe I’ll ask the Minister to put it in a real envelope, unmarked, and give it to an owl. I wonder where these words will end up. Wherever they are, know that I am missing you the same as I am writing them. 

I love you, Lily. Miss you, too.

Sirius

1/8/82

#35 ways to say “i love you” #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #lily evans potter #lily evans potter fanfiction #marauders era #first wizarding war #harry potter fanfiction #FUCK jkr btw. if that wasn't clear around these parts #sirius black and lily evans potter #sirius and lily fanfiction #PLATONIC! #fanfic #angst #hurt no comfort #harry potter angst #lily evans potter angst #sirius black angst #wolfstar angst #(minor but its there) #sigh. loving and losing people amirite

[queen-beefcake-sqx]

I just realized someone already said 69 :(

So in that case I say 42(0)

42 "Leave Out All the Rest" by Linkin Park

GOD I LOVE LINKIN PARK AND THIS SONG HOLDS A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART I was such a fucking edgy emo kid who went through a whole string of break ups with close friends and I wound up listening to this song a lot and thinking about how ~*terrible*~ my old friends must think of me after what an ~*emotional mess*~ I was. And one if that isn't big fucking Harry Du Bois energy I don't know what is.

But also like on a more real note --

This is a half-formed thought, but there's a whole thing going on in Disco Elysium about legacies. Histories. The things people have done that have left a lasting impact on the world around us, both on a global and local scale. I've already talked extensively about my thoughts about Harry's memory loss and how it allows him to have a positive relationship with Kim specifically BECAUSE the Harry Kim meets has no concept of history! Harry threw away his legacy with his clothes and his car and his gun!

And I think that's partially because Harry was so fucking ashamed of himself. Harry was a violent drunk who was doing work his ex-girlfriend had convinced him would be good for him and now saw no way out except to attempt suicide. multiple times. in a variety of styles and with various degrees of publicness. the Harry who stumbled into his room in the Whirling-in-Rags that night was one who felt he'd left behind nothing good or glorious or worth staying for.

... And then Harry wakes up again, faced with the wreckage of a life he doesn't remember but one with Very Real Lasting Consequences none the less. And Harry has the face the reality that the person he was before the Kineema woke him was Not A Great Person At All(tm). hurting and desperate, sure. desperately in need of care no one could give him, absolutely. but he also abused his power and, if we believe Jean's vitriol toward Harry had some kernel of truth, didn't fully take advantage of the people trying to offer him help. (Which like, regardless how deserving or not Harry was of Jean's whole Deal(tm) at the fishing village, it is... really, really hard to care for someone mentally ill. Which isn't saying don't do it, but you need to know when to step away. And I think part of Jean being Like That(tm) is Jean not knowing his boundary, and Harry not knowing his boundary which is JUST as necessary, and Jean burning himself out trying to help Harry then resenting Harry for not getting better despite all the work Jean was doing. I've seen this EXACT situation happen and it's 100% how they read to me, and it would explain why that "I want to get worse" comment was so CUTTING to Jean.)

Anyway my point is that Harry wants to leave behind those things that were terrible about him. Intentionally or not, he's gotten a chance to reinvent himself, and he does! He grabs onto whatever thoughts catch his fancy and discards the ones he dislikes, the ones that poke too close at something vulnerable and painful. He can tell whatever outright lies he wants to and the most people can do is call bullshit and move on, because god knows Harry doesn't know the truth half the time! And if you play with Harry wanting to be a Good Person in Some Sense(tm), I think by the end of Martinaise he really wants to prove he can do something good. Maybe it's "good at his job", or "good for the people", or "good for Kim, who truly trusts him", or whatever. But Harry wants to be more than the ghosts that lead him here.

...I don't know!!! I don't know!!!! I could probably sit here and talk forever about memory and history and the Grand Reinvention of Harry Du Bois but just think of how Harry must have felt bleeding out on the ground of the Tribunal and thinking the last several days are going to be all that's left of him --

#say more sadie #i have emotions about harry du bois and his special little meow meowness #sadie writes meta

[lurking-latinist]

you know me so you know which one I Have to ask about: Six/River memory loss???!

OH RIGHT YES! So this occurred to me when I was listening to World Enough and Time (the Diary of River Song episode not the TV episode), when she drugs him with her amnesia lipstick and leaves him in his TARDIS. Which is a very neat way of cleaning up the timeline, but I started worrying about what he’ll think when he wakes up. Historically, episodes of lost memory for Six are... not a good sign: notably, they tend to happen when either (a) he has been threatening Peri (Twin Dilemma) or (b) somebody else has been threatening Peri (Mindwarp).

Granted that he’s doing a lot better, mentally, by the time WEaT is set, I don’t think he ever really loses the fear of another bout of that regeneration sickness that never quite went away. Those terrible first days were pretty formative for this incarnation. So alongside all the self-confidence and contentment--and Six is very happy to be himself!--he has the quiet knowledge that Something’s Broken and sooner or later Everyone Will Know.

(Yep, this story would have the ‘internalized ableism w/r/t mental illness’ tag that I have already used on a Six story before and probably ought to go back and add to one or two as well. Thanks, Gallifrey (derogatory).)

(I have thought about this characterization of Six’s relationship with his own mental health for long enough that I am no longer 100% certain where it came from, but I think it’s partly TV, partly audios and partly just how I think he’d respond to things.)

So when he wakes up where he didn’t go to sleep, the past few days a blank, with fuzzy memories for longer than that (and they don’t seem to be quite in-character), the first thing he thinks is: what did I do?

He doesn’t have any evidence; maybe he figures out where he last was and tells himself the dream machines must have affected his memory. It’s fine. He’s fine. (He says very firmly.)

But if he keeps meeting River--it’s not her fault; it’s just that she liked this incarnation and she wanted to see him and she honestly didn’t realize the visits were so close together, much less the effect they’d have on him--but she keeps using her lipstick, and he keeps waking up in the wrong place with time missing. Sometimes there are the signs of a fight on him (of course there are, they had an adventure!). Sometimes he wakes up around people who ask him where the lady went (River snuck out the back after her goodbye kiss). What lady? He thought he was travelling alone. He was travelling alone.

...People have told him he shouldn’t travel alone.

I don’t think he ever quite articulates what he’s afraid of. If he actually up and said ‘I think I’m an amnesiac serial killer,’ even he would realize that that’s just not how anything works, even mental illnesses that are actually fictional. But that’s the thing, you see, about Six and whatever’s going on with his brain: he quite often just doesn’t want to talk about it. (I have a whole collection of quotes where someone goes ‘are you crazy?!’ and he says, effectively, ‘yes, but I’m also saving your life right now, so shut up!’.)

So, haunted by the fear that the Thing That’s Wrong With Him (which he is convinced is Fundamentally Wrong With Him) has Gone Wrong Again, he keeps travelling alone--which he really shouldn’t do, although not for that reason--which means that every time he encounters River he falls for her completely again and wakes up with more time missing, lipstick on his collar and a black eye (he ran into a doorpost. Which was being used as a melee weapon by a Sontaran)--and finally, convinced that he’s a danger to everyone around him, he does the unthinkable: he visits Harry Sullivan.

Harry “Actual Medical Degree” Sullivan and also Harry “Genuinely Decent Person” Sullivan, for that matter, is pretty sure none of this quite adds up, but he doesn’t remotely have the knowledge base to figure out what is happening. But he also suspects that basically what the Doctor needs at the moment, as much as anything, is peace and quiet and someone’s ear to talk off: ideally someone he knows and trusts who happens to have a nice country practice of his own.

Harry swears, because the Doctor insists, that if the Doctor turns violent he’ll defend himself (‘I was in the Navy, you know’) but--rather as Harry suspected--it doesn’t happen. Instead the Doctor has a nice rural holiday and makes a general nuisance of himself.

The difficulty with this fic, you see, is that I don’t know the ending. He can’t actually find out about River and remember her, because timelines. But I don’t know what else would be satisfying. Perhaps she turns up, explains to Harry, and swears him to secrecy, and Harry has to convince the Doctor that he’s actually safe.

Eh, it’s one of those ideas where the character interactions are interesting but the plot’s all over the place. If I ever get the plot more orderly--or indeed if anyone else does--I think it would be fun.

#fic ideas ask meme