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#merlin looking into the camera like he's on the office
Merlin and Mordred’s friendship is just grumpy older brother and peppy kid the older brother found one day and decided to adopt. Merlin may hate him, but if anyone else does, they’re done. Like cancelling life subscriptions or forcefully expediting character development, or both depending on the situation. Anyway. Merlin is an older brother/caretaker figure to Mordred and I cannot be convinced otherwise.
Merlin, staring at a camera like in The Office: I can bully him relentlessly but if anyone else even thinks about him funny, imma end their entire bloodline.
Mordred: I know Emrys says he hates me. Did you know he created a more potent medicine when I got sick? He said it was because it’d taste worse, but he added honey so it wasn’t too bad. It was actually nicer than Gaius’. I should get him something to say thank you.
—in the woods or something—
Mordred: Emrys! I found this flower!
Merlin: *snorts* okay?
Mordred: oh… I’ll just… *goes to take it back while looking sad*
Merlin: Piss off. It’s mine now. *magics it so it won’t die and keeps it on his desk*
Mordred: :D
—Interviews—
Merlin: He’s stupid. Also this flower is my favourite kind. That’s why I’m keeping it. Not for Mordred. My brother- nemesis is so stupid.
Mordred: Do you think he liked the flower? I couldn’t find any of his favourites but it was in the same family. … he said it was his favourite? … *smiles*
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Arthur: *visibly shaking with anger*
Merlin: "Maybe if you'd actually listened for once-!"
camera pans from them to Gwaine, some twenty feet away,
Gwaine: *looking into the camera like he's in the office* "things are pretty tense in the gay community these days"
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usafphantom2 · 4 months
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The A-12s were short-lived due to a new and improved version that added a second crewman, the reconnaissance systems officer who operated the defensive systems the SR-71.
The A-12 was to be four times faster than the U-2 and fly five miles higher. It was built to replace the U-2. It was made to overfly the Soviet Union, China, Cuba, and North Korea. It could fly anywhere it wanted to fly.
.
‘It was faster than a speeding bullet and could leap tall missile shields in a single bound.”
The Soviets/Russians were still able to track the A-12.
President Kennedy wanted to send the A-12s over Cuba to look for a Russian missile sites .
The A-12s were not yet ready because the Air Force was holding back on allowing the CIA to place electronic countermeasures in the A-12 for fear that if they ( A-12’s) were shot down, the Soviets would use our own counter measures on ourselves.
In 1968 a decision was made that made the CIA unhappy. The United States Air Force would take over. The CIA A-12 only held a pilot and it was short-lived— the new improved version of the A-12 was made combining the speed, the altitude and the cutting edge electronic counter measures and deception jammers. The improved version held a second crewman behind the pilot. He was called the reconnaissance systems officer, or RSO and he worked not only on the cameras, but other intelligence collectors, like the DEF from the left side of his console.
This clever defense tool was a Deception Jammer. It was an ingenious device that absorbed and memorized an enemy radar signal as it hit the reconnaissance plane, then sent back a radar single similar to the SR 71s but stronger and projected it away from the plane.
A radar operator tracking an SR 71 in the air or on the ground would therefore see a ghost blimp!!
A surface to air missile that could intercept an SR 71 at 90,000 feet or higher BUT the planes combination of speed, altitude and jamming made that virtually impossible. The DEF could be work manually or be set on automatic to jam any threat it picked up it was constantly updated to counter advances in enemy radar These defenses would make this air frame almost impossible to shoot down. It was called first the RS-71 later Curtis LeMay change the name to the SR-71. In 24 years of service the SR 71 was never shot down.
Written by Linda Sheffield
Source, “Dreamland”Peter Merlin and “ By Any Means Necessary “William Burrows
@Habubrats71 via X
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thecasualauthor18 · 15 days
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@thecasualauthor18 “I need to write more Romione lol”
Me:
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Em: Yo, Nena…..are-are you alright?
Me:…..mmmhm 🥹🥹🥹🥹 p-perfect, *holding back tears*
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Em: Uh- did I make a mistake in mentioning Romi-
Me: *ungodly walrus noises of happiness* I-I need a minuto I’ll be fine I’ll be good ndhdbsnfb bdbdnsnxbx
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Em: *contemplates life decisions and stares at a fake camera like she’s in the office*
Me: “totally normal…I-uh
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Em: 😳 *whispers* “what the hell is going on,” slowly raises hands in surrender and backs away slowly watching as I resemble the spawn of a gremlin while still trying to talk
Me: “Oh good god!” *hyena sounds*
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Em: *pulls out a phone and calls the cops* ‘Uh…yes, it’s me thebrilliantauthur…yeah it’s- oh wow you’ve already got a call-😳 this has been the 50th time this week!?……hold up….in a day?” *pauses phone call and looks back at me, roughly 20ft away*
Me: “R-Romione fics! Fuck yes!” *now unconscious and possible concussion, a typical Monday*
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Em: 🫣😨 “…….Yeah I-I’m still here, can you bring an ambulance yeah she just….holy sweet mother of Ronniekins…you mean to tell me she’s done this earlier this morning.” *thinks wtf nena*
Me: ……
Em: “Bro. I legit have so many questions right now”
Dispatch: “Trust me kid, we all do. That’s just how Nena is, need not worry officers are on the way”
Em: *slowly hangs up phone and stares at my body in a puddle and shouts* “HELP IS ON THE WAY!”
Me: …….*miraculously lifts up hand* 👍
Em: “Thank Merlin,” *lets out a deep breath of air*
@nena-96 you're an absolute gem I've been laughing for an hour 😂😂
Anyway here's a snippet in exchange for this incredible incredible ask. I hope you enjoy this bestie! 💖
She’s pretty sure he’d offered to take her place, now she thinks of it. The events before her torture are hazy, and she doesn’t quite know what was real about the past few hours, but that– that she thinks is true.
Have me, he’d said. Take me, instead!
He walks to her now, arms swinging gently at his sides, and Hermione watches him as he gets closer to her, pulling up a chair and sitting beside her bed. “How are you feeling?” he asks in a low voice, and Hermione simply shrugs and shakes her head slowly. “I, um– figured I’d come tell you what’s been going on.” He inhales slowly, and Hermione just stares at him. He’s tired, Hermione thinks. So tired.
Wordlessly, she reaches her hand out towards him, and Ron takes it, squeezing gently.
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snowatyourbitch · 8 months
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Can y'all Bbc Merlin fans suggest some fics where everytime Arthur says something really dumb or asks Merlin something about magic that's making it so obvious that Merlin is a soscerer, and Merlin just looks at the hypothetical camera or talks to the readers like he's in Fleabag or The Office like:
Merlin: The druids are really peaceful people, a druid even help Erin from the bakery in the lower town to fix her broken arm, they know so much about soscerery and maybe you can ask for their help?
Arthur, confused because no one has really talked about druids this well: When did you learn so much about them, Merlin? You're talking about them as if It's like you're one of them.
Merlin, looking at the camera or talking to the readers: He really is hopeless, isn't he?
I don't know if I can find a fic like this, I've been looking for so many hours and I still found none 😭
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Chapter 22: The Camera
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((AN: not enough Merula-Athena interactions in this story. also let me allude to underlying issues thena aeronwyn has. 💯 if you spot what I mean by that. i’m using these author’s notes wrong am i))
The trio regrouped at lunch, sticking their heads together to whisper about the progress each of them had made in their respective tasks, all under Chester’s close inspection.
Their discussion was cut short by Theseus interjecting “Are you just here to whisper around or are you going to eat something as well?”
That’s when they decided to move their whispering to a later time.
As soon as they left the Great Hall they started talking.
“Ben and I studied the Knockback Jinx. We took some notes on what to do and what to avoid when learning it...”
Rowan went on to retrieve her notebook out of... her bag. Cach. Thena facepalmed.
“I’m so stupid!”
Rowan and Ben looked up at her in confusion.
“I would normally immediately say no, but I’d like to hear what you did first.” 
To be fair, Rowan had witnessed Thena doing quite stupid things a few times.
“It’s just... my bag! I forgot it! Probably on the bench in front of Moaning Myrtles bathroom! I’ll meet you later on, I really need to get that bag!”
She scurried away and up the stairs before her friends could respond.
Why had she needed to set it down, why hadn’t she kept on carrying it?
The Polaroid camera was in there, her brother’s Polaroid camera, for Merlin’s sake! How could she just leave the bag somewhere! 
What if Moaning Myrtle flooded the bathroom or something and water splashed out into the corridor... no, the camera was in a case, a case that could protect from water splashes.
Thena slid around the edge of a corridor, her converse squeaking with her movement.
Finally, the right corridor. And the bench. But no bag, nowhere to be seen. Was it in the girls’ lavatory? Or did someone see it and take it to the lost and found? Which would be at... Filch’s office. Oh no.
Thena wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t rather fish her bag out of a toilet than have to somehow convince Filch to give it back to her without confiscating anything.
“Looking for this, Smith?”
Thena whipped around so fast, her hair hit her in the face almost painfully.
Merula. The Slytherin was now standing in front of her, a very familiar brown bag in hand.
“Merula.” Thena said, trying to keep her tone neutral. Merula hadn’t done anything yet, just picked up Thena’s bag. That wasn’t a crime.
“Merula, that’s my bag. Could you please give it to me?”
Merula just gave her a devilish grin. Great. This was going to get ugly.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t looked into it yet. I thought we might do that together, since you liked the idea of us working as a team so much.”
Was this what this was about? Had Thena somehow greatly offended her with that offer? Or did Merula just like making Thena miserable?
“Oi, just give me the bag. My stuff is in there and I want it back.”
“Your stuff? Maybe some... research?”
Thena couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. Merula still wanted to find the Vaults, but of course not together with Thena, just with her research. Maybe their trio should be a bit more subtle in the future.
“Come on, Smith, what’s in there?” Merula started shaking the bag. Oh no. No. The camera would not survive a fall this high, case or no case.
“Merula, stop that. You’re going to break something!”
She couldn’t grab the bag, Merula was holding it to right. The camera wouldn’t survive a fight. She couldn’t do anything without risking the camera, really. Her helplessness let anger bubble up inside her, hot and ugly.
Jakob had given her that camera literal days before his disappearance. He had explained it all to hear.
'Careful, Ronwyn. It’s a muggle camera, if it breaks we can’t fix it with magic.'
She had looked up at him, eyes big.
'But couldn’t we just by a new one?'
Jakob had looked at her, eyes filled with an emotion little Thena hadn’t been able to recognise.
'Not this one. It’s irreplaceable, do you hear me, Ronwyn? It’s a special camera. And that’s why I want my best girl to have it. Take good care of it. Collect some memories.'
She hadn’t understood, had giggled instead.
'Jay, you’re all weird. That sounds like you’re leaving, stupid!'
Jakob had left. The camera hadn’t. And now it was at Merula’s mercy.
“What, Smith? Not even trying to get it back?” Merula had the audacity to sound offended.
But Thena couldn’t. She would risk the camera if she started a fight about the bag. She got even angrier, the anger in her like hot lava, bubbling up in her stomach, higher and higher... Thena couldn’t do anything. She was depending on Merula’s goodwill.
The anger bubble burst. It was done. In its place only blank panic. Oh Merlin. She was depending on Merula’s goodwill.
Merula would decide if Thena would get the camera back or if Jakob’s memory would shatter on the stone floor.
“With the way you’re acting, it looks like you’re smuggling something!”
Merula, of course, was completely oblivious of the kind of mental turmoil Thena was going through.
“Well, since you won’t tell me, I’ll have to see for myself...”
Thena was still frozen in panic as Merula buried her hand inside the bag.
She knew what to do when she was angry. Lash out, kick, scream, hit, bite, even run. Thena had been angry often enough for every one of these things to happen.
But blank panic? This helplessness? Nothing of these things would help her now. And she didn’t know what to do. Would she be fast enough to catch the camera if Merula dropped it?
“Got it!” The camera. In Merula’s hand. Judging by the look on her face, she had expected something else entirely.
“Are you kidding me?” Merula looked at Thena like this was all her fault.
“You’re this worked up over a bloody camera?”
The Slytherin was distracted. And in one swift motion, Thena had grabbed the camera, holding it tight to her chest. The skin on her hand was tingling where it had touched Merula. Who was looking at Thena so utterly confused she would have thought it was funny under any other circumstances.
“No, really, what’s so special about this camera?”
“I would tell you if you had agreed to be on my team!” Thena shot back. She could allow herself this, now that she had the camera back.
“Fine, Smith. Don’t tell me then.”
Merula threw the bag at Thena’s feet. Luckily, there were no inkwells in there today. That would have been a disaster.
Merula was already stomping away, out of the corridor, obviously dissatisfied with the acquired information.
Thena deemed it safe to kneel down to get her bag and put the camera into it again, when a noise made her look up again.
“Smith!” Merula had turned around again, in a blur of brown hair and violet eyes, the streak of orange gleaming like fire in the light. The Slytherin regarded Thena as if she was fighting herself whether she should say something else or let it go. The latter side lost.
“I know about the camera. The way you grabbed at it. It’s your mad brother’s camera, isn’t it?”
That’s how Merula left Thena. That’s how Rowan would find Thena.
Clutching the bag with the camera, shaking and absolutely lost.
For the first time since she could remember her anger had left her with blank panic instead. And of course, Merula must know what it’s like to have only some things left to remember somebody you love. 
Maybe Merula had grabbed after her parents’ things the same way.
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weirwolves · 2 years
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Destinies are troublesome things. You feel trapped, like your whole life has been planned out for you, and you’ve got no control over anything, and sometimes you don’t even know if a destiny decided is really the best thing at all. 
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Hunith in 1.10 stressing to Merlin how important it is that no one in Camelot finds out about his magic and Merlin being like “obviously mum, I’m subtle as fuck” before immediately casting an obvious spell in the middle of their sleeping area with the king’s ward and a servant of the royal household just to play with the campfire is genuinely such peak humor tho
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oceanoqraphy · 3 years
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bbc merlin but everytime arthur insinuates merlin can't keep a secret merlin looks into the camera like he's on the office
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dracoxgeorge · 3 years
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Over the Phone| Draco Malfoy
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Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, slight dirty talk and swearing.
Summary: Your horny and Draco’s at work, so you send a picture.
Draco Malfoy x Fem!reader 
word count: 1.4k
A/n: Thank you for the request! And thank you for 40 followers !!! ily ily ily 
It was Thursday evening, you had just finished eating dinner. You’re boyfriend, Draco, should’ve been home by now, so you decided to call him.
Your mind wouldn’t stop wondering, thoughts of you and Draco getting rather frisky, flooded your mind. 
You felt the urge to rub your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction. You thighs clenched and unclenched releasing some but barely any of the pent up tension that had been bubbling inside you.
You picked up your phone, unlocked it and went straight to call him. 
Your screen read ‘Draco L. Malfoy <3’ at the top of the screen, when it started to ring. 
ring...
ring..
ring...
 “Hello?” You heard him say, a sigh of relief that he had answered escaped your lips.
“Hey, it's only me. Where are you?” You asked, feeling all hot and bothered.
“I was asked to work late, why do you ask?” He questioned, ignoring his question, you answered with “D’you know when you're getting home?” 
“Another hour or two, why?” 
You wanted to avoid answering, but knowing Draco, you knew he wouldn’t stop asking until he got an answer, so you gave in. 
“Don’t make fun of me.” You demanded, hearing a breathy chuckle from coming from the other end of the phone. 
“Got it,” He stated. Oh what you would do to have your hands feeling him down, kissing him all over, letting him fuck you, on his desk even. Maybe even on the kitchen table… 
“I’m horny Draco, and I really don't know how much longer I can wait.” You whimpered. You heard Draco’s breath hitch at your words. 
“Well, i’m sorry, but they need me here right now.” He replied, you let out a huff. 
“Well I need you too,” You said, playing with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. 
“You know I want more than anything to be with you right now my love, but I’m at work. There's nothing I can do about it, Yn.” Draco sighed. He truly meant what he said, not so still pictures in his head of you on top of him. 
You had his cock hardening within the second. 
“I have to go now, my girl. I’ll see you later okay?” He asked, pondering whether or not he should make a not so quick trip to the bathroom. 
“Suit yourself Dray, see you later.”
“Wait what do you-” was all you heard before hanging up the phone. 
You knew Draco had to work, and there's nothing you could do about that, but you could feel your heat throbbing, you needed to do something about it.
You left for your room, taking off your shirt and bra, leaving your upper half completely bare- your lower half resting in only your panties. You pulled the camera up on your phone and began taking some pictures.
You were angry that your boyfriend wasn’t able to make it home when you needed him most, he needed to know how you felt. 
Yearning for revenge, perhaps, although there was nothing exactly that he'd done wrong.
-
You were taking pictures for around 10 minutes and now were fishing for the one to send to Draco. 
You came across one, you were looking into the camera with puppy dog eyes and a slight pout, you knew it gave Draco butterflies when you looked at him like that, and you had your tits out, two things he adores.
The camera was at an angle from above you so it was looking down at you, and made your breasts look slightly bigger and perkier than normal.
This is the one, you thought.
You sent it to Draco and only seconds later your feisty photo had the word 'read' written beneath it. And in a mere minute after having sent the photo, you'd been receiving a very well expected phone call.
“Hello?” You asked, just as he had before. 
“What are you doing, what are you trying to do?” He asked, you loved it when he was angry, but he sounded more frustrated than anything, and not the regular kind of frustrated.
“I don’t know what your on about Mr. Malfoy. Is something wrong?” You asked, already knowing the answer.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Yn.” He stated, making a pool of arousal flood your panties,
“Touch yourself.” He ordered. You froze. 
“Did you hear me?” He asked,  you swallowed nothing. Your throat went entirely dry.
“Y-yes.” You answered, slowly tracing your nipples, putting Draco on speaker. You put the phone down beside you and moved your unoccupied hand underneath your underwear.
You heard Draco undo his belt and heard that along with his fall to the floor. 
“Are you doing it?” You heard, a soft moan escaped your lips. Your middle and ring finger rubbed slow circles on your clit. 
You could hear your arousal, and picked up your phone. You heard a band snap, which you assumed was the band on his boxers hitting his thighs. 
Draco had his own office, and you heard the ruffle of leather, so you concluded he was in his office chair.
“Are you touching yourself Dray?” You asked, you heard a groan fall out of his mouth, only making you more needy. 
“Fuck Yn, what are you thinking about?” He asked eagerly.
“Thinkin’ about you, pounding into me, mmm and your pretty face, my love. What are you thinking about fucking your fist?” You breathed, Draco barely heard you but managed to make out your words.
“Thinking about fucking your tits, fucking you like the little whore you are. My… little… whore,” He taunted. 
You circled your entrance with your middle finger and slowly pushed it in. A moan escaped your lips as you moved it in and out. 
“Merlin, I can hear how wet you are,” He added, groaning. You were able so partially hear the pace at which he was fucking himself.
“You fuck me so good Draco. F-fuck!” You nearly screamed, curling your finger slightly, hitting your g-spot. You added another finger, coping your exact motion earning another raw, porn worthy moan from yourself. 
“You makin’ yourself feel good my girl, hm? Are you fucking your fingers like a good girl?” He asked, you heard him but were to overcome with lust and need to unravel yourself to answer.
“Draco my hand is cramping,” You whined.
“Be a good girl and keep going, don’t stop until you're told to stop, got it?” 
You hummed in response. After a mere minute, the cramp went away, and you were very close. You wouldn’t be able to stop unless someone was pulling your hand away. 
You heard Draco let out guttural moans, strings of curse words and your name continually falling past his lips. 
Gradually, he got much louder, you knew he was close. Though you also hoped there was a silencing spell put on his office. 
“Are you gonna cum, my love, you gonna cum like a good boy, Draco?” You mewled, you heard Draco’s breath hitch at the nicknames, he loved it when you praised him. 
“Yes, fuck. Wanna cum all over your cunt, wish you were here, Yn.”
“Me too my love, cum with me okay?” You said, hitting just the right spot, shoving your face into a pillow to muffle your broken moans. 
“Yeah, are you close, baby? You gonna cum.”
“Yes yes D-Draco, cum with me p-please,” You answered, gripping your silky green bed sheets like a lifeline.
“I-im cumming Yn, fucking hell Yn. You feel so good on my cock,” He exclaimed, letting out a long dragged out groan, your name being a praise.
“O-oh my god, fucking hell Draco,” You moaned, letting the coil in your lower abdomen snap, sending sparks through your stomach, legs and chest. 
Draco’s non stop moans helped you ride out your high, bringing your other hand back to your clit, making your body jerk and legs shake. You drew tight and fast circles, completely drawing out your orgasm to its full potential. 
You heard Draco lean back in his squeaky chair, you could picture it perfectly. Draco leaning back in his chair, head thrown back, face full of sweat and hair falling down to his forehead instead of slightly pushed back. 
Silence washed over the call, you were only able to hear his heavy breathing and you imagined the same for him. You sat like that for a few minutes, trying to settle down.
You and Draco’s heavy panting began to cease. 
“I bet you made a m-mess,” you laughed. A breathy chuckle came from Draco’s end, making butterflies erupt and begin to dance in your stomach. 
“Yeah, I did and it was entirely your fault.” He answered playfully. 
You shook your head slightly laughing but still out of breath from the mind blowing orgasm you had just had only minutes beforehand.
“How is that, Draco. I wasn’t there.” You stated, staring at the ceiling.
“Oh funny, you know exactly why, would you like me to, in detail, describe what started only 20 minutes ago my love?” He asked rhetorically. 
“I’m fine, thanks though. Maybe next time we should facetime.” You suggested,
“Oh, absolutely.”
--
A/n: Thank you for reading!! I hope you guys liked it. Requests are open!! Have a good day/night lovely’s <33 
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weelittleweasley · 3 years
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growing pains (d.m.)
prompt as requested by anon: after the war and settling down with draco, the time comes for your children to attend hogwarts.
pairing: draco malfoy x fem! reader
warnings: recollection of pregnancy, recollection of the war, crying, lots of cute fluff though :)
word count: 3.6k
a/n: i cried writing this. have fun.
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Never did you think that you would have a normal life with Draco after everything that happened. The war took so much life away from you both; it showed you how truly ugly and vile the world could be. Especially Draco.
After the war, Draco refused to allow himself and his future family live in a world that was so cruel and unforgiving. Draco wanted to undo all of the wrongdoings he had done and work harder for a better future for himself, for you, and your family; it’s what you deserved, he told you. Draco wanted to give you the world and he would rest at nothing to do so.
Draco left his past behind him and moved from Malfoy Manor to settle somewhere new. A new start, a new life. You two were married immediately after the dust had settled from the war. The ceremony was very private just the two of you, professing your undying love for each other, Draco promising profusely that he would do anything and everything to keep you happy.
Life, for the first time, felt ordinary. And you thanked Godric for that. The two of you worked your jobs, supported yourselves, and were happy. And that’s all you could really ask for. You had everything you needed, a job, a roof over your head, and Draco by your side.
Although life was ordinary for the first time in years, Draco would do special things for you here and there to show you just how much he loved you and adore having you as his wife. During work, he’d send you three dozen roses to your desk, earning you strange glances as you just sat there, smiling like a school girl. Or when he knew you had an awfully long day, he’d draw you a bath and pour you a glass of wine and let you be for a few hours, letting you decompress. Or it could be something as simple as leaving you a love note on your pillow when he woke up before you. Draco was so thoughtful when it came to taking the time to appreciate all that he had. He had taken it for granted so many times in the past and with the war, it was all threatened. Draco learned quickly that he needed to recognize his blessings and take a moment each day to really show you how much he cared.
This was more than enough for you, just you and Draco living your lives together, relishing in this new life you created together. 
But soon enough, Draco started casually tossing around the idea of having children. You had been married for a year when it he started toying with the idea of having your own kids. You were in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes from that night’s dinner, Draco wiping down the table.
“(Y/N)?” he spoke from the dining room.
“Yes, my love?” you called back.
Draco walked into the kitchen, leaning on the door frame his arms folded across his chest. “Do you think we should move?” he asked, searching your face for a reaction.
Your eyes furrowed. You had been living in this house for a little over a year and you loved it. It was a symbol of your freedom away from the mess of your pasts and your renewed love and dedication to each other. Why would Draco want to leave this place you so fondly called home? You spoke your thoughts that swirled around your head, “Move? Why would we move?”
He peeled himself off the door frame and took a few steps towards you as you shut off the water and turned towards him to give him your full attention. “I think we’ve out grown this home,” he speaks. “Think about it. With my new business starting and with your promotions at work, we’ll both need a home our own offices. Not to mention, we’ll need a nursery soon and that means we’d have to covert the guest room into one, but where would your parents stay when they visit us. Besides, I want to move somewhere were my commute is shorter to work,” Draco shurgs, dancing around the fact that he just mentioned having a nursery in your home.
You stop him in his tracks, “Hold on there, lover boy,” you tease him with the nickname you’d given him back in your sixth year at Hogwarts. He smiles at the name, lightly laughing. “A nursery? Why would we need one of those?”
Draco inhales a deep breath and takes a step closer to you, placing a hand on your hip, pulling you close to him. “I love you, (Y/N). I always have. You are and will always be the most important thing to me,” he tells you as you smile, him kissing the tip of your nose. “I want to start a family together. We have more than enough money to move into a bigger house,” he refers to his hearty inheritance along with the money he’s made from his booming company, “we are both mature and ready, and don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t want a little Malfoy running around,” he teases.
You hated to admit when Draco was right. He saw the way you watched children play in the park around the corner from your home. How children giggled and played, their small feet running around, tiny voices speaking childish phrases, getting excited over new discoveries. Having a child with Draco would be a blessing. But you didn’t know if you were ready to be a mother yet. It was a large step, and one you wanted to take, it was just a matter of if you were ready for it.
Sighing, you brush your fingers through Draco’s blonde hair, a familiar feeling to the both of you. Draco lets his eyes flutter closed as he hums as you do so. “You’re right, Dray,” you admit as he smiles widely. A child. For the both of you. “But,” you interrupt, “I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother just yet. I’m doing so well in my job and I love working. I’m not ready to give it up. This is only the beginning for me. And it’s not fair to ask you to leave your job to raise a child.”
Draco lets out a breathy laugh as he cups your cheek, rubbing it gently with his thumb as you lean into his touch. “I’m not asking you to drop everything for our child, sunshine,” he tells you. “Besides, we can always take leave from our jobs temporarily on maternity and paternity leave. When you’re ready, you go back. I run my own company, darling. My own. I call the shots. If I need to work from home to raise the child we created, so be it. I’ll enjoy every moment.”
Your heart flutters as Draco speaks. He really was perfect.
And in nine months time, you had created the most perfect thing you could have ever imagined. Celeste Frances Malfoy. Celeste...your star. A gift from the heavens. Your family was as complete as the sky; Draco, the moon, you, the sun, Celeste, your star.
Watching Celeste grow up was like watching a movie unfold before your eyes. Your beautiful baby girl held the universe in her eyes. And boy, oh boy, was she her father’s child. Identical grey eyes and silver hair, but she had your smile and laugh that made Draco’s heart swell with so much love. She had Draco’s love of mischief and often found herself in sticky situations.
Once you had found Celeste sitting quite literally in the toilet, red lipstick from your make up bag smeared across her face and chest, along with the toilet brush. You gasped as you found her and stared in shock. “Cel, what did you do?” you laughed.
She simply smiled, that mischievous smile at the age of two, and spoke, “It’s my wand! Just like mummy and daddy!” She waved the toilet brush around, making small mouth sounds that replicated those of magic and your wand. 
You laughed at the antics of your toddler. Instead of getting her out of the toilet bowl, you called out for your husband and called that he get the camera. This would be a memory you would love to keep. 
Draco ran in and saw his baby girl in this predicament and burst out laughing. “What mess did you get into, my star!” he laughed as Celeste giggled along with him. “Merlin, I need to tell your Uncle Blaise about this!” he wiped his eyes from laugher. 
The years past and Celeste grew and grew before your eyes. The more she grew up, the more she grew into her features. Her long blonde hair grew out and her eyes only grew to look more like Draco’s. But it became evident that your daughter possessed the same ruthless nature as you did. Celeste was bold and clever and wise beyond her years. She really was a perfect blend of you and Draco. 
Knowing that you could make such perfect children, that only encouraged Draco and you to have more children. Draco insisted that he wanted five children, but you stared at him with wide eyes. “Do I look like Molly Weasley?” you laughed as he chuckled to himself. “How about three?” you suggested as Draco rolled his eyes.
“I don’t like odd numbers. What if two are very close and the third one feels left out. I can’t do that to our children,” Draco pleaded as you groaned. “Four? Four and I’ll never ask for anything else!” he begs as you roll your eyes, knowing damn well that him not asking for anything else was the biggest lie. “Okay, maybe not that, but four! Four is a great number!”
And in typical Draco fashion, he got what he wanted. Four children. Celeste, your oldest, your leader, your star. Xander, your second, the jokester, the pot-stirrer, but also the empath of the family. Sage, your third, the free spirit, the humble one, Miss Independent. And last, Nicolas, your last, the baby, the soft-spoken one, but incredibly defensive of your family and its honor. Your perfect family. 
Each of your children all bore that same striking Malfoy hair, warning children to know who they were messing with. The girls looked much like their father, same hair and eyes, making your heart swell as you looked into their eyes. The boy, on the other hand, had Draco’s platinum hair, but your eyes and smile. The perfect combination.
Having such a large family meant chaos in the house. Celeste would often squeal about how Xander was bothering her while Xander tried to blame Nicolas for his pranks. Sage would quietly sit and observe before telling you the truth about what happened before going back to coloring. You laughed as Xander yelled at Sage for throwing him under the bus, but she just shrugged. The house never being silent always brought you a comfort that you never thought imaginable. The blabbering mouths of your children, the laughter, the fatherly voice of Draco booming over it all, catching your children’s attention. 
Draco was a phenomenal father. You didn’t think he could love anything as much as he loved you, but you stood corrected. Draco loved you fiercely, but Draco poured his heart and soul into the needs of his children. Each child had a different relationship with Draco but each so beautiful and lovely. Celeste, being the oldest, idolized her father and how he treated you with such love and compassion. Xander insisted he wanted to be just like his father, smart, funny, and successful. “What more do you need?” Xander would shrug as you laughed. Sage loved Draco something wild, she would draw him little pictures that he’d tape to the walls of his office, she slept with his old quidditch jumper as if it were a blanket. The sight was heart warming. And Nicolas was the baby, Draco’s baby. Nicolas was Draco’s shadow, following him room through room, staring up at him with wide eyes. Your children loved each other and that was all thanks to how you raised them.
From a young age, you told your children that family was everything. You needed to protect and love each other because if you didn’t, who else would. From then on, your children were fiercely close and loyal to each other. You remember clear as day when Xander got into a fight on the playground and word got to Celeste. Celeste then gathered the other siblings and walked up to the child and scared the living shit out of the poor kid who thought to lay a finger on Xander Malfoy.
As your children grew up, you and Draco knew very well that a Hogwarts letter would arrive in the mail soon for Celeste as she approached her eleventh birthday. Your children knew of magic and magical abilities; you wanted them to know the powers that they would posses rather than shield them so they grew to fear it. Each child had a different reaction when they found out about magic, but all fears dissipated when you showed them each your wands and old robes. (Of course, Draco revering his time as a quidditch team member, Xander immediately yelling that he would also be a Seeker like his father.)
Soon enough, the eve of Celeste’s eleventh birthday rolled around and like you expected a letter dashed through the front mailbox and landed perfectly on the breakfast table as you sat down to drink your morning coffee. The pale beige envelope was addressed to Miss Celeste Frances Malfoy. A small smile grew on  your lips as you sighed and looked towards your husband. Draco’s eyes laced together in confusion, but soon recognized the slip of paper you had in your hands. The two of you smiled at each other before Draco called out, “Cel! You have an early birthday present!”
Almost immediately footsteps sounded down the staircase before Celeste arrived in the kitchen. “What is it?” the almost eleven year old asked excitedly. You handed her the envelope with a beaming smile as she looked at you quizzically. She tore into the envelope and unfolded it to read the words scribbled onto the parchment. Soon, joy and excitement filled her eyes as she squealed out in excitement. “I’m going to Hogwarts?!” she yelled as you and Draco laughed. 
You engulfed your eldest child in a tight hug as happy tears flooded your vision. She was growing up far too fast for your liking.
----------
The start of school eventually rolled around the corner as Celeste happily pushed all of her luggage through the train stations, veering around different platforms. Draco carried Nicolas in his arms as you held Sage’s hand in yours as Celeste walked ahead with Xander, blabbing about Hogwarts, smiles on both you and Draco’s faces.
Your eldest child was about to embark on the greatest journey of her young adult life and you couldn’t be more excited for her. You had no doubt that Celeste would excel at Hogwarts, taking after both you and Draco. 
“Mum,” Celeste calls from ahead, “What house do you reckon I’ll be sorted into?” she asks.
You smile and look at your husband speaks before you, “I have my guesses, but I don’t want to influence you in any way, my star.”
Cel groans and speaks, “Come on! You reckon I’ll be a Slytherin like you?”
Draco laughs and tells his oldest child, “It doesn’t matter to me or your mother what house you’ll be sorted into. We know whatever house you are in, you’ll make us proud.”
Celeste smiles wide before looking at her surroundings realizing its come to the part she’s heard so much about. You look to Draco who nods as you sigh. Walking to Celeste, you place your hands on her shoulders. “You ready, star shine?” you ask, giving her shoulders a squeeze. Celeste gulps and looks at you, excitement and fear laced in her eyes. “We’re gonna run through together,” you aim the luggage cart at that all too familiar wall. “On the count of three,” you tell her.
Your daughter takes a deep breath in and huffs, “On three.”
“1, 2, 3,” the two of you speak before running directly at the wall, passing through with ease as another world appears before your eyes.
Multiple wizard families bustle through Platform 9 3/4, mothers calling to their children as fathers carry bags here and there. A smile forms on your face as Draco slides his hand in yours. “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” he laughs as you roll your eyes teasingly.
You grab Celeste’s hand, “Come on, darling. Xander, push the cart for your sister. Sage, hold Daddy’s hand. She’s got a train to catch!” 
Your family starts walking to the platform where the train awaited the loading of multiple new and returning students. Draco loads Celeste’s luggage onto the train with the help of Xander as Nicolas holds onto your leg and sucks on his thumb in wonder at the scene before him.
Turning to Celeste, you see watch her anxiously bite on her lower lip as you did when you were nervous. You place a hand on your daughter’s shoulder. “Cel,” you speak as she turns towards you. “This is going to be the greatest journey ever. Enjoy every minute of it because it goes by in the blink of an eye,” you comfort her as you see tears well up in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart,” you pull her into a hug, tears forming in your eyes. You hold onto your eldest daughter, pressing kisses onto the top of her head. “I’m so proud of you, star shine. You are going to be incredible. I have no doubt about that.”
Draco places a hand on Celeste’s back and rubs gently. “Your mother is right. When is she ever wrong?” he teases as Cel laughs and hugs Draco’s torso tight. “My star...” he gets choked up before breathing in. He squats to her level and speaks, “Have fun. Make friends. And don’t forget to write us.” Cel giggles as Draco smiles widely at his daughter. “My first born...go kick some ass.”
Cel laughs and hugs you and Draco tightly. You wished you could stay in this moment forever. It was so bittersweet. Watching your baby grow up before your own eyes, but doing everything you’ve ever wanted for her. “Okay, my star,” you pull away, letting her know it was time. “Kids, give Cel a hug goodbye.”
You smile, wiping your tears away as Draco wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Your kids embrace in a tight group hug, telling each other how much they will love and miss Celeste. “I’ll be home for Christmas! I love you guys and I’ll see you soon!” Celeste waves as she climbs onto the train. 
“Come on, Cel!” a voice calls out that you recognize as Tanner, Pansy Parkinson’s eldest daughter.
She’ll be just fine. 
Celeste looks at you and Draco as you both send her a wink, letting her know she’ll be just fine. And there she goes, disappearing into the train car.
Slowly, you watch the train pull away from the station, waving at it, watching Celeste embark on the journey of her life. You turn to Draco, watching him gently wipe away the tears that escape his eyes. “Where did time go?” you whisper to him. “I remember being on that train.”
Draco smiles and looks at you, “I remember flirting with you on that train. And then you stomped on my foot and told me to piss off. Didn’t expect to be by my side years later with four children, did you?”
You roll your eyes, “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you, Malfoy?” you laugh. “Alright, my lovelies,” you call to your children. “Reckon we should get some ice cream to celebrate, shouldn’t we?”
Your children all cheer at the prospect of a treat as you scoop Nicolas into your arms, kissing his plump cheeks as he giggles. Sage jumps into Draco’s arms and Xander leads the way out.
With one final look back, you sigh out. This wouldn’t be the last time you did that. You still had three more children. But part of you wished it wouldn’t come as quickly as that just did. “One down, three to go, eh?” you tease Draco who laughs.
“Yeah! I’m next! One more year!” Xander exclaims as Draco tickles his sides.
“Yeah, a whole year! Don’t try and leave us too quickly,” Draco laughs as you join in. 
It was almost surreal. The life you and Draco had built with each other. A life of love and beauty; beautiful and healthy children, successful jobs, a beautiful home to call your own, and all your loved ones safe and sound. You thanked your lucky stars that you had this life and that Draco was so adamant on giving it to you.
Draco looked back at you and noticed how deep in thought you were. As you walked through the train station, Draco took one of your hands in his. “I wouldn’t want to go through any of this with anyone else. I love you,” Draco squeezes your hand.
You smile fondly at your husband, brushing his cheek with your thumb. “I love you. Forever and always, my dear,” you whisper before giving him a sweet kiss in the middle of Platform 9 3/4 just like you had done so many times before.
Times flies when you’re having fun.
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silvertonedwords · 3 years
Note
#40 kisses prompt if you haven't had that asked yet please and thank you.
A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.
I felt like expanding this.
“And, why are people staring at us?”
Tina clears her throat as they walk past gaggles of well-dressed employees at the Ministry entrance, then waves her wand at a stand of this morning’s papers so that one flies into her hand and falls open to the second page. “The usual.” She passes the page over to Newt, her beaded charcoal gown rustling between them.
Many of the guests pay them no mind, but Newt is right to notice the odd person pointing or whispering with badly concealed glances in their direction. 
“ ‘Scamander and Auror Wife to Split’ details on page 10′” he reads. “Merlin’s beard, not again.” He skims the article briefly before sending the paper back to the stand with a flick of his wand and a frustrated sigh. Frequent absences for work. Sources close to the couple. Chilly atmosphere on a walk last week after Mr. Scamander returned from his research trip.
“Mm-hm.” Tina rolls her eyes, fighting hard to brush it off entirely, although she knows these articles bother Newt. Not all of them—not the ones speculating about the color of ink he uses at book signings or the financial arrangement he has with his publisher for a second edition. He finds those easy enough to ignore. And the articles that anger him the most are those with misinformation about his creatures. But she has noticed that it bothers him when the papers speculate about the state of their relationship. Is it so impossible for people to see how we feel about each other? he’d asked the night after the second article had run, his face cast in shadows on the pillow beside her and his fingers tracing absent-minded shapes along her ribs. 
She can understand the frustration. As secure as they are in each other, it stings that the rest of society seems to have decided that their feelings deserve suspicion and ridicule. A single article would be one thing, but to have the baseless stories repeated over, and over... (Who’s gonna marry him? she remembers asking Newt on the day they met, in reference to Jacob of course, but it feels apt now—the question everyone else seems to be asking of them.) Tina is a generally private person, and she knows it wouldn’t help, but sometimes she wishes she could make these foolish people listen to her as she describes her husband—his kindness, and wit, and energy. How unusual and wonderful he is, and how lucky they both feel every day, even when one of them is in a terrible mood, or they’re about to be separated for work, to have stumbled into each other on a New York street. 
The specifics of the articles change each time, but the implications remain more or less the same. Some speculate that she is always at work, too busy to support his success, and too disinterested a wife to care. Others suggest that he is too strange, too cold—that he couldn’t possibly care for her. And always, the articles seem to say, it was destined to be a disaster, and if ever there was any passionate feeling between them, there certainly isn’t now. She’ll take the criticism of her feelings and know it’s absurd, but the self-satisfied hints about Newt are enraging. 
They make their way to the east wing of the lobby and up a set of stairs, where floating chandeliers and draping gold and navy fabric adorn the usually bare hall. Newt must have picked up on her scowl, because he slides his hand into hers and squeezes tightly. She squeezes back, trying to shake off her frustration as she waves at a couple of auror colleagues. “Thanks for coming with me. I know you hate these things.”
“You hate them too,” he protests.
“Yes, but I’m the one who’s required to go.”
His thumb sweeps across the back of her hand, his fingers threading through hers. “I’d do far more, you know.”
She does not try to hide her soft smile, lovestruck though it must be. “I know.”
They reach the top of the stairs and turn left, making their way past tables of bubbling drinks and towards the ballroom’s heavy wooden doors. Newt drops her hand to avoid a floating platter of chocolates, stepping to the side to rejoin her a few feet later. A camera flash goes off in front of them. Wonderful, Tina thinks. More fuel for speculation.
-&-
The first part of the evening goes as well as can be expected. Tina has few enough people that she’s interested in talking to; the only reason the Auror Department is required to attend these soirees is ‘to demonstrate to everyone that England is doing just fine in our efforts to stop Grindelwald’. 
At least Perkins had pulled Newt deep into conversation about the creatures he’d come across on assignment in Brazil. They’d wandered off fifteen minutes earlier, leaving Tina to sip her drink and watch the rest of the senior aurors and department heads mingle. Occasionally, she has a brief conversation with a colleague, but they, like her, keep moving around the room, taking stock. Even if she were the kind of person who enjoyed parties, she supposes, her job would probably ruin them. There are too many people to keep an eye on--too many people that she’s learned by reputation or experience not to trust.
Since Newt left for a smaller anteroom, she has also found to her great annoyance that the gossiping has become somewhat bolder. There are a few whispers around her--a couple of women from the press office pointing at her with sympathetic sighs; a man turning to his wife and saying I didn’t think it would last, you know. He’s so odd.
She has just turned back for another drink when Mrs. Selwyn spots her. “Ah, Tina darling, how are you?”
Tina moves her glass to her left hand, reaching with her right to shake the woman’s hand. The Selwyns have purchased hippogriffs from the Scamanders and have known both boys since they were little, although they are not, Tina has gathered, a particular favorite of either. “Fine, Mrs. Selwyn,” Tina replies smoothly, keeping an eye on new arrivals passing through the ballroom door.
“You know, dear, if you ever needed--well, if you needed someone to talk to...”
Tina swallows a cough at the presumption. “What about?” she asks cheerfully.
“Oh, well. I’m sure I don’t know. Married life. That sort of thing.”
Tina does cough at that, covering it with a sip of her drink. Any anger on her part, she knows, will only be taken as confirmation of the story. The nerve of these people though, and the nerve of those so-called journalists with their smug implications, that no one could really fall in love with Newt; that a woman and an auror could not possibly have a happy marriage; that because Newt doesn’t follow her around like a crup at every event saying ‘yes dear’ and ‘of course dear’, he couldn’t possibly be in love with her. Never mind the way he looked at her from across the room a few minutes ago, when he caught her gaze mid-sentence. Never mind that her heart still takes off like a niffler in a jewelry store whenever he fixes her hair or kisses the back of her hand.
“Tina!” she hears, grateful that for once, her brother-in-law has good timing. “Could I borrow her for a moment, Mrs. Selwyn? Auror business.”
Mrs. Selwyn looks between them, raising an eyebrow as though deciding whether to be offended, and then nods and turns away.
“Thank you,” Tina murmurs under her breath as they walk towards the opposite wall.
“I’m quite put out, you know,” Theseus replies good-naturedly. “My brother and sister-in-law are splitting up for the fifth time this year, and they didn’t even bother to tell me.”
“Don’t you start,” she warns.
Theseus glances at her, then nods towards Mrs. Selwyn’s retreating form. “Is that what that was about?”
She hums in acknowledgement. “Offering ‘marital advice’.” 
“Ridiculous, if you ask me. ‘There was a chilly atmosphere on their walk’,” he quotes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Mm, particularly given the fact that we’d spent the majority of that day in bed.”
Theseus chokes on a sip of firewhisky. “Tina, he’s my little brother, would you please not—“ She grins, and he scowls back half-heartedly. “You say things like that just to make me squirm.”
“It’s good for you.” Her grin melts into a softer smile as she catches sight of Newt, who is still engrossed in his conversation with Perkins half a room away, his hands flying through the air with his enthusiasm.
Theseus’s voice has gentled beside her. “I don’t know how anyone could pay attention to the two of you for five minutes and believe anything those articles say.”
Well, Tina thinks with a rush of impatient energy, perhaps that’s what everyone needs to put an end to this stupid speculation. “Back in a minute,” she tells Theseus, downing the last of her drink and setting the glass on a nearby table. 
She strides across the room to where Newt and Perkins are still talking. “Could I borrow Newt?” she asks, one hand grazing Newt’s elbow once he’s seen that it’s her.
“Hello,” Newt offers once they are facing each other. He swallows hard, she presumes at what must be a rather fierce expression on her face.
“Hi,” she returns, touching the edge of his fringe. 
He catches her hand in his own, turning to press a kiss to her palm, the touch comfortable and breathtaking in equal measure. “Is something the matter?”
She shakes her head, falling into the tender amusement of his searching gaze. The auror in her had crossed the room with a plan, but as she slides a hand along his jaw and brings his lips to hers, she does not think about who might be watching them, or who would care. She does it because she wants to, and because she loves him, and because they can. Because she’s caught glimpses of him looking at her all evening, and knows that she’s been doing the same. 
Newt is as wrapped up in them as she was in an instant. He tilts his head further and cups her jaw to keep their mouths joined, his other hand settling on her waist to steady them. The kiss is intense but not frenzied, the press of lips and tongues a familiar give and take, their soft gasps muffled into the space between them.
Tina slides her hand around his neck, slipping her fingers up into his messy hair and smiling against his lips when he arches into the touch, and Newt coaxes her closer with his hand spread across her back. A shiver works its way through her as his calloused hand settles against her bare skin where the cut of her dress has left it exposed.
They part slowly, first to their foreheads pressed together, and then enough that Tina glimpses the dazed expression that matches her own. 
He watches his fingers curl into her mussed hair and tuck it back behind her ear, and Tina melts into the tenderness in his touch and his eyes. “That was…” he manages, his voice rough.
Her teeth dig into her lip, her eyes dancing to find the beginnings of a smile on Newt’s lips. “Unexpected?” She fixes the ends of his collar, although they hardly need adjusting. “I thought maybe we could put a stop to the rumors. They were starting to bother me.” She fingers his bowtie. “I think they have been. A little. Not because—but the things that everyone assumes about you are...“
“I know.” His brow furrows, his fingers curling around hers. “I think the same about you.”
A camera flashes beside them.
Tina sighs as, reluctantly, they pull apart. In an ideal world, they wouldn’t appear in the papers. But if they’re going to, at least it can be a little more accurate, and less likely to send nosy women and thoughtless Ministry officials their way with cruel assumptions about Newt’s heart. 
The story runs the following day as a caption to a photograph from the evening, an ever-repeating moment of their hands tangled and eyes fixed together as they separate from their kiss.
Newt Scamander & Auror Goldstein Like Newlyweds at Last Night’s Soiree, the headline reads. 
Theseus drops a copy on Tina’s desk the next morning with a shake of his head and a begrudging grin.
“So, did that go how you’d planned?” Newt asks that night as they’re getting ready for bed. 
Tina grins as he settles under the blankets beside her. “I saw you tear out a copy of that photograph and put it in your case.” 
He settles a hand on her hip, and she grasps it to tug him closer, until he’s pressed up against her back, his voice behind her warm and sleepy. “Your eyes in that photo, Tina.” 
She cranes her neck to glimpse his face, reaching an arm behind her to tuck his face into her neck. “I may have left a copy in my desk. I prefer yours.”
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academicdisasterfic · 2 years
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Homebound
M, 1.8k
After escaping England, Harry and Draco try to find a new home.
CW for references to sex work and a homophobic slur.
The rocks here are orange. The water is light blue on a clear day, apparently; today, it is grey and mottled, and you are sitting next to me, staring into the horizon. It’s raining lightly, and I can’t even tell you how beautiful you look in the rain; like you were born into this landscape of forest and ocean, as stubborn as the vegetation growing through the sand.
‘Draco,’ I whisper, and you turn towards me, the rain drops sliding down your nose. You had desperately wanted to come here - the Bay of Fires, this bit of coast is called, and you lit up with curiosity when the man at the tourist centre told us about it. I loved you so much in that moment that my chest hurt.
‘Is it time to go already?’ Your eyes match the sky.
‘Not if you don’t want it to be.’
‘Hmm,’ you say, and you bury your nose in my shoulder, lips hot against my neck. ‘I like being alone here with you, though.’ I grin and you mutter a Cushioning Charm as you press me into the lichen-covered rocks, and thunder hits somewhere close to us, and you kiss me over and over again, tasting of rain and salt.
‘Malfoy. What are you doing here?’
‘Very funny, Potter.’
There’s a beat as I stare at you, all pale skin and protruding bones under your jumper and jeans, huddled into the corner of your holding cell.
Your eyes narrow.
‘Merlin, I hate you. You’re still nothing but a puppet.’
When we first left, I barely knew you. I thought I did. I’d spent half my life studying you, after all. But I didn’t know about the important things. How you like to brush your teeth after coffee but before breakfast, or how you lay out the next day’s clothes each night, or how you talk incessantly, even in your sleep.
I didn’t understand how you looked at me; I thought you were always angry with me. Your eyes have always stripped me bare, and I hate feeling vulnerable. We fought constantly, those first few months. I hated that you made us keep moving. You hated that I’d gone and saved you. I hated that I couldn’t talk to Ron and Hermione. You hated that I was too thick to realise how you felt about me.
It was in Hanoi that everything changed, though, because we went out for dinner, and you ordered noodle soup, and you started crying while you were eating it. You ate pho with Narcissa after the trials.
I said I was sorry that you were stuck with me, that you couldn’t do this with someone you loved. You looked at me incredulously.
‘You’re such an idiot.’
That night, I kissed you for the first time, and you gave me the look you’ve been giving me my entire life.
Hungry, feral, focussed.
Not angry - well, perhaps a little angry, you’re always a little angry - but something closer to obsessed.
I lay you down on the hotel sheets, and when I pushed into you, you sobbed and grabbed my face, eyes pinning me in place.
‘Here, Harry, you stay here, you never fucking leave, do you hear me?’
And you kept looking at me when I shuddered and came, and you followed with my lip between your teeth.
‘You’re out of line, Auror Potter.’
‘He hasn’t done anything wrong!’
‘He was caught taking twenty Galleons with jizz still on his face.’
‘We’re not here to persecute the vulnerable, Gawain.’
‘No. We’re here to enforce the law.’
‘It’s fucked up and you know it.’
‘I don’t feel sorry for cocksucking Death Eaters, Potter, and I certainly don’t ignore my legal duty for them. Get the fuck out of my office.’
You fall asleep on the drive back to the little cottage we’ve rented just outside Launceston. The next day, we go into the tiny city and walk through Cataract Gorge; you take photos of everything on the Muggle camera I bought you for your birthday and make notes in your journal. There are peacocks and you swear at them, which makes me laugh.
‘What do you have against peacocks?’
‘Absolute psychopaths, Potter. Never trust a peacock.’ You hide behind me when another one starts towards us and I laugh and scoop you into my arms. You’re not as thin or as fragile as you were when we left England, but I still have the constant urge to wrap you up and put you somewhere safe.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.’
‘That’s what you do best, isn’t it, Potter?’ Your voice is all snark, but your eyes are soft, and you kiss me harder and longer than is probably acceptable in public, tightening your arms around my neck. You eye the peacocks beadily over my shoulder as we leave.
When our two weeks are up in Launceston, I ask you the same question I always ask you.
‘Is it home?’
You smile and shake your head. We pack the car and head to Hobart.
We turn onto the highway and I suck on a blackcurrant lolly, turning the windscreen wipers on as rain begins to beat down. ‘I’m glad Launceston isn’t our new home. It had a weird vibe.’
You laugh, and stroke my cheek. ‘You’d really just settle down anywhere I told you to, wouldn’t you?’
‘Not anywhere.’ You raise an eyebrow. I shrug. ‘I dunno, I’m not fussy. I just want you to be happy.’
‘You can be very sweet, you know.’ You interlace our fingers and chew on your pencil. ‘Nowhere feels right yet, though.’
‘No,’ I concede. ‘We’ll find it, love.’
You smile and kiss my knuckles. ‘I know.’
‘You can’t go back after this, Harry.’
‘I know.’
‘We’ll miss you.’ Hermione’s voice cracks and I wrap her in my arms.
‘You’ll see me soon enough.’
‘Okay. Your Galleons are in.’ She hands me the deed to her Swiss vault.
‘You’re an angel.’ I kiss her cheek, and Ron and I eye each other over her shoulder. He gives me a small smile.
‘All this for the Ferret, mate?’
I smile, and shrug. ‘It’s bigger than him.’
‘It is,’ Hermione whispers. ‘We’ll get you back home soon enough, okay?’
She can’t promise that, and I know it, but I nod anyway, and leave for the Ministry.
The Salamanca Markets are bustling and beautiful, a cacophony of competing sounds and smells. We pass artisan sourdough bakers, soy candle makers, leatherworkers, ceramic jewellers, seafood vendors. The air feels fresh and alive around us.
You moan with pleasure as you bite into a crepe, Nutella smearing across your nose, and I lick it off. You shove me away with a groan, and then just as quickly, you pull me back in. You’re so tactile; it’s one of the things I love most about you. We always have to be in contact, your hand on my hand, my neck, my arm, my thigh. You never let me go far in crowds, and most nights we strip and get into bed early just so you can curl up on my chest for hours, skin to skin, every part of us touching.
There’s a particularly beautiful pebbled leather diary at a papermaker’s stall. You’re running out of space in yours. While you go off to get another crepe, I buy it, the pages textured and thick and full of possibility. I’m heading for the crepe stall when a tattoo-clad woman leans out of a tent and smiles at me expectantly.
‘Tarot, thirty dollars. Palm reading, twenty.’
I sigh. ‘I’m not really interested, sorry.’
She grins, lighting up at a challenge. ‘Alright, mate, here’s the deal - I'll tell you something, and if you’re interested, we can keep talking inside.’
‘Really, my boyfriend--’ I trail off as she tuts at me.
‘He’ll be fine.’ She holds out her hand and I tentatively place my palm in hers. She traces the lines, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are sad.
‘Oh, love,’ she says. ‘Home is closer than you expect.’
I decline a full reading, but I do slip a twenty dollar note into her pocket, and hope that she’s right.
‘What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?’
‘We’re leaving.’
‘We are?’
I unlock the cell.
‘What’s going on, Potter?’
‘They’re going to charge you with treason.’
‘What the fuck?’
‘Your last client was a neo-Death Eater.’
Your eyes widen and your hands start to shake. I grab them.
‘We need to go.’
‘What about my mother?’
‘Hermione’s taken her to France. She’ll be safe there.’
Your eyes are wide and now we’re walking to my office. I’m more or less carrying you, because you’re exhausted and starving after three days in the holding cell. ‘Where are we going?’
‘We’ll find somewhere.’
‘You’re coming with me?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
I look at you as I grab the Floo powder, and try not to smile.
‘I want to. Also, I just leaked about three hundred confidential case files to the Prophet.’
It’s snowed overnight on Mount Wellington, and we’re driving slowly up the winding roads. You study the visitor guide with the same obsessive intensity you do everything.
‘The Aboriginal word for the mountain is kunanyi,’ you say. ‘This is where the muwinina people live. It’s said that their spirits go beyond the mountain when they pass on.’
‘I like that,’ I say, and we stop at a lookout. There’s not another car or person in sight.
You bite your lip, brow furrowing as your eyes race over the text. ‘We shouldn’t go to the summit. It’s disrespectful.’
I nod and give you a kiss as we get out of the car, and you put the visitor guide away so we can link our fingers as we walk onto the wooden ledge overlooking the city.
You look at the city. I look at you.
It’s so cold, and your nose is pink, and you’re wearing a knitted green beanie that Molly managed to get to us last Christmas. You hold my hand so tightly, and I don’t even think you realise how instinctively you fold into me, lean into my body. Nothing used to scare me more than asking for love. But it’s so brave, the way you do it - the way you demand care, attention, touch. And it’s made me do the same. I lean back into you, kiss your eyebrow, breathe in your citrus-and-salt scent.
‘I don’t think this is home either,’ you say. I hum.
‘No.’
You turn to me, and your eyes are blazing.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever find a replacement for England.’
‘Okay.’
‘But…’ you reach up and run a hand through my hair. ‘I don’t mind waiting for it. I feel like...it’s waiting for us, too.’
I wrap you in a hug, and you shove your hands inside my coat, pressing your forehead to my chest.
‘We’ll wait,’ I say, and you tilt your head up.
When we kiss, it sets every cell in me alight, and I have space for exactly one thought: this is home.
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wlntrsldler · 3 years
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unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)
PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?
WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???
PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader
WC: 2.3K+
UNREQUITED MASTERLIST
-
PART 5
You were sitting in Potions by yourself, none of your friends having it during this time of the day. Students were trickling in the classroom, most not opting to spend their few minutes of passing period in their next class. There were only about three other students who sat in their seats, waiting for class to begin. Professor Snape sat at his desk in the front, glancing up at you once in a while when he felt your eyes burning in his direction. 
You took out the tattered journal Mr. Diggory gave you, smiling down at the obvious wear and tear. You hadn’t had the heart to open it since you first received it. A part of you almost felt wrong reading Cedric’s thoughts. You never asked him if you could read his journal when he was alive, no matter how often you saw him scribble in the thing. You knew he would’ve let you read it if you wanted, but you figured you never had to. He told you everything without being asked. 
You did the same back, minus the part that you never told him how you felt. Besides that, you told Cedric everything. If you had a journal, you’d happily show him. You’d just make sure to not write about him at all. You decided to read it but promised yourself that you would stop if you stumbled upon something you knew Cedric wouldn’t share. Although, there was only a small amount of things that he wouldn’t share with you. 
You flipped the front cover to reveal the first page. Low and behold, in Cedric’s messy handwriting, the one that littered your books with notes and tips, read: “If lost, return to Cedric Diggory. If you can’t find me, return to Y/N Y/L/N. I’m almost, always with her.” 
A picture of the both of you was taped securely under the words. Parts of the parchment were ripped off, showing that he replaced the photo a few times. In the picture, you two smiled for the camera, grins reaching from ear to ear. As the flash subsided, you two burst in laughter, blinking rapidly as the flash burned both your eyes. Behind you was his house, his dad’s silhouette appeared on the window of the kitchen. The picture was taken the summer before the Triwizard tournament. Your last summer together. 
You watched the picture replay a few times before turning the page. On the corner of each page, with no fail, was the date of his entry. The first entry was his first day at Hogwarts. His handwriting never changed over the years and you laughed at that. You skimmed through the page: 
“I got sorted as a Hufflepuff. I’m so excited.” 
“The Weasley twins are quite funny.” 
“I lied, they’re really funny.”
You chuckled a bit, reading his little commentary on the margins of his journal entry. His entries were greatly detailed and so lively. It made you feel like he was sitting beside you, telling you all the stories himself. You read it in his voice, the voice you missed so deeply. 
“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday yesterday.” You heard a voice say from beside you. You looked to the side, expecting to see your usual Ravenclaw partner, but instead was greeted by Draco’s neutral expression. You closed the journal and tucked it back in your bag. 
“I didn’t think I had to let you know.” You responded, shrugging your shoulders. You started to take your things for the class out of your bag, trying to ignore the overwhelming scent of his expensive cologne. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” He said, almost too quickly. He cleared his throat, opening his Potions textbook. “Was just expecting you to say something about it.”
“Well you made it clear that you didn’t want to participate in a conversation with me.” 
“Glad you got the memo.”
“Plus we’ve been classmates for years now, Malfoy. You would think that that would be enough time to learn my birthday.” 
Draco scoffed, “I don’t pay attention to you enough. I don’t have time to think about pathetic, little Hufflepuffs.”
“But you have time now?” You inquired, pushing his buttons. 
“Forget I brought it up.” 
You rolled your eyes, already irritated at the boy’s mood swings. It was really odd how he would start conversations just to shut it down right after. You shut your book, rather harshly, and glared at him, “I see my partner making her way over here. Please get out of her seat.” 
“No.” 
“Move.” You stared him down, not wavering. You were not in the mood to deal with Draco today. You had no time for his constant annoyance and incapability to make his mind up about how he’s going to treat you for the day. You didn’t want to give the class a show similar to how you cornered him, and damn near hexed him, in Dumbledore’s office. 
He mimicked your expression, inching closer to you. His hair was brushing his forehead, the color reminding you of the same one you saw last night. His eyes were piercing, the color alone more than enough to intimidate anyone. Draco breathed out, his breath hitting your face. “No.”
“Move or I swear I’ll he-”
“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape’s voice boomed throughout the half-empty classroom. All of the other students in the room stiffened at the sound of his voice. Always so demanding. “Ms. Y/L/N. Your bickering is getting on my nerves. Resolve your issue or I’ll take points away from both of your houses.”
You cowered in your seat, mumbling an apology, and opted to focus on today’s assignment. You heard shuffling from beside you and saw Draco get up from his seat, shooting daggers at the Ravenclaw girl as she made her way beside you. She said a quick greeting to you, not wanting to hold conversation with Draco staring at the back of her skull so intensely. You returned the gesture and placed your Potions book in between the both of you, a habit you’ve grown accustomed to. 
It took a while for the students to pile in the classroom. The entire time you tried to focus on your work, trying to plan out your day to dedicate some time for homework and assignments. However, Draco’s constant muttering about Merlin knows what made it particularly difficult for you. You looked over your shoulder, seeing Draco carefully open an envelope he pulled out from the inside of his book. 
The wax seal indicated it was from his family, his father, you assumed when you watched his face drop in terror. His face turned paler than ever before as his eyes scanned the parchment. He held it up, as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading. You could almost make it out with the way the sun was shining through the parchment, almost making it see-through. You could pick out a few words: “This summer… familial responsibilities… honor.. chosen.. your time…” You almost read an entire sentence before Draco loudly slammed it onto his desk. 
“Something the matter, Y/N?” He asked through gritted teeth, obviously catching you as you tried to read his letter. 
“No,” You responded, eyes unable to look away from the parchment he placed down. “Nothing.”
“You should pay attention.” He saw your eyes drift down. He quickly folded it, stuffing it back into the envelope, and gave you a condescending smile. “Wouldn't want you to fall even further behind than you already are.” 
“Today, we’ll be creating Amortentia.” Snape started, walking around the room to scold any students who didn’t have their books open. “Does anyone know what Amortentia smells like?” 
“It’s different for each person.” A Gryffindor from the back of the room answered. 
Snape nodded and started to create it. You and the Ravenclaw- Merlin, you really should remember her name by now- started to take notes. Snape explained things quickly, almost making it difficult to keep up with. You took a look around the room, seeing how some people were invested in the potion while others couldn’t care less. Your eyes drifted towards Draco, wondering if he would be one or other. 
His eyes looked past you, focused on Snape. Huh, you thought, wouldn't have pegged him to be a romantic. You stared at him for a few more seconds, watching his hands scribble down on his parchment, his eyes not having to look down to make sure he was writing correctly.You glanced down at his notes, not surprised by his neat penmanship. It was even neater than yours. 
“Ms. Y/L/N,” Snape called from the front of the room. You blushed furiously when Draco broke his gaze on Snape and saw you staring at him. You turned back around in your seat, growing more flustered as everyone stared at you. Snape walked over to you, Amortentia in hand. “Since you refuse to pay attention, what do you smell?”
You barely had to take a sniff before your senses were filled with a scent you’ve grown fond of. Chamomile and honey and Cedric. You smiled, biting the corner of your lip. The scent was overwhelming. It was like he was beside you. 
You picked up his cologne a week after he died, wanting to feel like he was still with you. Although the scent of Chamomile and honey reminded you of him, it still didn’t feel quite right. Cedric always brought his own scent, a lovely scent, in addition to the cologne. It was different when he wore it. 
Your face twisted when another faint smell started tickling your senses. It was soft, barely there, but you could smell it. It wasn’t anything that you would pick up for yourself, nor would Cedric. You tried to sniff it one more time, hoping that the scent would reveal itself. But once you did that, the scent was gone, almost as fast as it came. 
“Y/N, what do you smell?” Your partner asked, breaking you from your trance.
You realized you still haven’t answered and everyone in the room was waiting for your answer. You cleared your throat, “I smell Chamomile and honey.” 
Snape nodded and walked around the room to let others take a go at it. Your partner gushed about how it smelled like ocean and fresh flowers. You absentmindedly nodded your head, trying your hardest to pay attention to her ramblings. Snape continued his trip around the classroom, holding the Amortentia tightly in his hands. 
As he made his way back to the front of the room, you heard Draco call for him softly. Your curiosity got the best of you, tuning out your partner next to you to focus on the conversation behind you. 
“Professor.” Draco called, motioning Snape to approach him. 
Snape came closer, placing the Amortentia on the table before leaning in, “Yes, Mr. Malfoy?”
“Can I speak to you after class?”
“Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?”
Draco was silent for a second before speaking again. “Just had a few questions about the potion.” 
Snape nodded, picking it back up and walked to the front. “Stay after class, Mr. Malfoy.”
The rest of the time flew by. You were still trying to remember the faint scent you smelled earlier. Not knowing really bothered you. The name of the scent was on the tip of your tongue, if only you could’ve smelled it one more time and you would've known with certainty. 
When Snape announced that class was over, you said goodbye to your partner and packed up your things. A part of you wanted to stick around and hear what Draco was going to ask Snape. Surely, he understood the potion. He was one of the smartest students in your class and his notes were always so well done. Draco never has problems with his academics. This incident really puzzled you. 
You decided not to risk getting caught sneaking around by Snape, or worse, Draco. You walked towards the Great Hall, the pestering thought of not knowing what the scent was or what Draco could possibly have questions about occupying your brain the entire time. 
As the students walked out of Snape’s classroom, Draco nervously waited for the professor to address him. Snape looked up from his desk, cocking an eyebrow at the boy’s demeanor. He was acting a bit out of character. He motioned for Draco to approach him. 
Draco adjusted the strap on his book bag and walked over to Snape, eyes glancing at the Amortentia every other second. “I think the Amortentia doesn’t work on me.” 
Snape put his quill down, folding his hands. “I don’t think anyone is immuned to Amortentia.”
“Well, I must be.” Draco insisted. 
“Elaborate, Mr. Malfoy.” 
“When asked Y/N what the Amortentia smelled like to her,” He trailed off, pointing at the potion. “She said she smelled chamomile and honey. And I’m sure she was referring to Diggory-” He said, voice harsh when saying Cedric’s name. “But I smelled the same thing. Chamomile and honey. And truthfully, sir, I don’t believe I have feelings for Diggory. So that means that I must be immune to it somehow.”
“Mr. Malfoy, you are one of the brightest students in Hogwarts.” Snape complimented, leaning over the desk to say the second part of his message. “But you sure are daft.” 
“I beg your pardon?” 
“Mr. Malfoy, have you noticed that in the wake of Ms. Y/L/N’s grief over the loss of Cedric Diggory, she has done some things to help her cope?”
“Yes, sir.” Draco nodded, confused by where Snape was going with the conversation.
“Alright. Are you aware that one of those things is wearing his cologne, causing her to sport his scent?” 
Draco’s face paled, then turned a bright shade of red. His eyes widened, realizing that he just confessed something to his professor, without knowing that there was something to confess. He stuttered, “I-uh…”
“No trouble, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape dismissed him with his hand, shooing him towards the exit. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” 
-
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drarrymybeloved · 3 years
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Tumblr media
a gift for @isamijoo​ as part of the Wheel of Drarry Mini Exchange🥰💞thank you to @curlyy-hair-dont-care​ for the beta!
wc: 1.7k | rating: G
Not All Heroes Wear Capes, But Mine Sure Does
Draco Malfoy, Editor in Chief of Witch Weekly Magazine, eyes his watch and then the stack of paperwork on his desk. He knows he should stay and get through at least half the pile before lunch, but there is also a photoshoot going on in Studio B right this very second that he wouldn’t mind overseeing. Only because the photoshoot is such an important project for the magazine. Not because of the presence of a certain someone at said photoshoot, not at all.
I’m the Editor in Chief of the damn magazine and I can go wherever I like, he decides. He nods his head as if confirming his own thoughts and exits his office to head towards the studio.
Draco had begun working at the offices of Witch Weekly soon after he finished his community service sentence. Starting as a lowly clerk, his ability to charm and enamour as needed, had him slowly but surely climbing the ranks.
Now, at twenty-five, Draco is the youngest Editor in Chief in the history of Witch Weekly. Soon after his promotion, he had recruited Pansy as a columnist and Blaise as a photographer, both of whom are involved in today’s shoot.
And what a shoot it is, Draco thinks with more than a little satisfaction. Featuring the Golden Trio, the rest of the Weasley clan minus Percy who was “just too busy to make it”, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, the Patil twins, and Lavender Brown, it’s going to be printed as a special edition with all proceeds going to the War Orphan’s Trust. Incidentally, it’s also one of the most— if not the most— star-studded spread in the magazine’s history. Blaise will photograph all the volunteers in various costumes and get-ups, while Pansy will interview them on the side.
When the idea was first proposed, Draco had been sceptical. While the others were less recalcitrant, Potter was well-known for his dislike of modelling of any kind. He hated being in front of a camera, and everybody in the press corps knew it. Without Potter, the venture wouldn’t necessarily fail, but it would definitely not generate as much profit. Draco had meant to ask formally, perhaps through an official letter bearing the magazine’s seal. Instead, he found himself asking Potter at the weekly inter-house pub night, a tradition started in eighth year that— inexplicably— continued well past Hogwarts. Surprisingly, Potter had agreed with minimal fuss. He wasn’t happy about it, but he had agreed nonetheless.
Reaching the studio door, Draco takes a moment to brush non-existent dirt off his suit jacket and straighten his already straight tie, before pushing open the door. There are a fair amount of people milling around, talking and laughing. He can see Weasley, Finnegan and Thomas near the refreshments table. Charlie Weasley is talking animatedly with Luna while Longbottom listens with a bemused expression. Ginerva and George are slowly turning singular strands of Hermione’s hair purple as she talks passionately with Lavender. The Patil twins are having their makeup done, and Bill Weasley is being interviewed by Pansy.
Draco takes all this in with a cursory glance, his attention instantly drawn towards the man currently posing for the camera, like a compass finding true north.
Harry Potter stands in front of the camera, wearing a gladiator’s skirt cinched with a belt adorned with a golden lion, a red cape adorning his broad shoulders. A sheathed sword hangs at his waist. On his feet are black leather sandals, the straps of which rope around his muscular calves. Without his trademark glasses, his eyes look impossibly brighter. His bronze skin practically gleams under the lights. Presumably, someone had applied oil on him at some point. Draco hastily pushes away all thoughts of hands and oil and Potter out of his mind. Potter’s hair looks artfully tousled instead of its usual mess— a near-miraculous feat if you ask Draco. He makes a mental note to jot down the name of the hair stylist for future photoshoots. The thought is there and then gone because just then, Potter draws the sword hanging at his waist, and Merlin and Morgana, Draco was not prepared to see Harry bloody Potter looking like a hero out of a Greek legend.
Draco lets out an involuntary whimper.
“Hello, Draco.”
Draco quickly snaps his gaze away from Potter to find Hermione looking at him with an amused expression. The purple streaks are gone from her hair— she’d probably known what Ginerva and George were up to the whole time. Meanwhile, Draco had been so busy ogling Potter, he hadn’t even seen Hermione approach him. He flushes faintly and attempts to sound like the Editor in Chief of a major publication rather than what he actually feels like— a schoolboy with a pash. “Hello, Hermione. I hope everything is going smoothly?”
Hermione grins. “Yes, it’s all been rather fun actually. Reminds me a bit of Sunday lunch at the Burrow, what with so many people around.”
“Good, that’s good to hear,” Draco says distractedly, attention already straying back to Potter.
“Harry’s looking rather good, isn’t he?” Hermione asks nonchalantly, following Draco’s gaze.
“What? Oh, yes, yes of course. Now that you mention it, he is. That is, I mean, the stylists did a brilliant job. Especially with his hair, it usually looks like a bird's nest,” Draco lets out a strained chuckle, his cheeks burning. He never should have come down here. Merlin.
Hermione presses her lips together, her eyes bright with amusement. “You should tell him that yourself, he’ll like it,” she gestures behind Draco.
Draco turns, and sure enough, Potter’s coming off the set towards them. He doesn’t even stop to change into regular clothes, for fucks sake. How is one supposed to hold a conversation with him looking like that?
“I’ll leave you two to it then, got some catching up to do with Parvati,” Hermione says, grinning wickedly. Before Draco can say another word, she’s already gone.
Cursing internally, he turns to face Potter, determined to keep his attention on Potter’s face and his face only. Not that that’s not distracting enough. Pushing the unhelpful thought away, Draco opens his mouth to greet Potter. What comes out is, “That’s quite a get-up you’ve got going on.”
Oh joy, already off to an excellent start. Draco cringes internally but forces himself to smile in what he hopes is a pleasant manner.
Potter laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, I do feel pretty ridiculous in all this. They’ve even strapped a bloody sword on me. I barely know how to handle it.”
“Looked like you were doing alright, actually,” Draco says before his mind can catch up with his mouth.
“Oh, er, thanks Draco,” Potter smiles bashfully, bringing his hand up to ruffle his hair. Draco’s eyes helplessly follow the flex of his bicep.
Snapping back to attention, he grasps for something other than Potter’s sword-wielding skills to talk about.
"I have to say though, I was quite surprised when you agreed to this. It's no secret you dislike photoshoots immensely," is what he lands on. It’s something he’s been wondering about and he wouldn’t mind knowing what made Potter agree to do this.
“Yeah, I don’t much like being treated as if I’m some celebrity and I’ve never been good in front of a camera. I would have said no but well…” he trails off, looking at Draco intently. “You’re the one who asked, so,” Potter shrugs as if that clears everything up.
Draco blinks. In a dazzling display of eloquence, he says, "What?"
Potter flushes, but he looks determined. "I agreed to do this because I know this photoshoot is important to you. Not just this shoot, the magazine as a whole. I know that you’ve worked hard to make it into something much more than just another gossip rag. So, um, you know, I did it for you,” he rubs the back of his neck, his face flushed crimson. “It also helps that it’s for charity,” he adds, chuckling awkwardly.
Draco gapes. “But...why?” he manages, bewildered.
“Draco,” Potter huffs. “Because I care about you. As in, I have feelings for you. I thought you would have guessed by now, it’s not like I’m great at subtlety. Pretty much everyone else knows,” he smiles nervously.
 Oh. Oh.  
“You have feelings for— wait, everyone knows?” Draco demands. “And no one thought to tell me?” He hates his friends, really truly despises them all.
Potter’s eyes crinkle with the force of his smile. “Wait so, what are you saying?”
Draco rolls his eyes, attempting to sound cool and collected even though he feels practically giddy. “I’m saying, Potter, that I have had “feelings for you” as you put it, for an embarrassingly long time. And everyone knows,” he says, cheeks pinking. “Well, everyone except you, apparently,” he amends.
Potter laughs delightedly. “To be fair, you didn’t catch on to my feelings for you either.”
“We’re rather ridiculous, aren’t we?” Draco says, laughing ruefully.
“Well, we’re both in the know now, so how about we go for a celebratory dinner?” Potter asks, eyes bright.
“Good idea,” Draco says, attempting— and failing— to keep a straight face.
“Potter!” Pansy’s voice cuts across the room.
“Time for your interview it seems,” Draco says.
“Yeah, although I do have some questions for her myself,” Potter says, squinting at Pansy.
“Oh, I will absolutely be having words with her. And Hermione,” Draco huffs.
Potter smiles at him, and it’s such a wide, unrestrained thing, Draco’s heart misses a beat. “I’ll see you after, then?” he asks.
Draco nods, smile softening. “Pick me up at seven, you already know the address.”
Potter flashes him one last smile before walking towards Pansy’s corner.
Draco watches him go with what is most definitely a besotted smile on his face before turning around to leave. His steps falter when he sees all of their friends staring at him, expressions torn between unbridled glee and despair. He frowns— until he catches sight of Ron glumly handing over a handful of Galleons to a triumphant George.
“You absolute pillocks, did you place bets on Harry and me?” he asks in disbelief.
“It’s a lucrative business,” George winks.
“Sorry Draco,” Lavender says, not looking sorry at all as she pockets the coins Padma grudgingly hands her.
“I hate you all,” Draco informs them cheerfully as he heads towards the hallway, professionalism be damned. He hears them laughing as he steps into the hallway, but he’s too elated to be properly pissed off at their machinations. He’ll get back at all of them soon enough, but for now he has a stack of paperwork to finish— he can’t be late for his date after all.
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jajanvm-imbi · 4 years
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If Krel and Toby went to Camelot with the others (like they SHOULD have)
Krel: 
He would have fallen into Camelot with his serrator cause he always has it with him so he thankfully won’t have to worry about his A5 form being exposed.
Douxie would introduce him to Arthur as “Krel from the House of Tarron” obviously but I feel like it should be mentioned 
since everyone got paired up with people that were relevant to them or their character (Doux with Merlin, Jim with Deya, Claire with Morgana, Steve with Lancelot) I feel like Krel would have found himself with a team of alchemists. 
like I imagine the team walking through the castle and Krel just seeing these alchemists in like their late 20s early 30s through an open door and be in complete awe of them that he would just wander into their lab and the alchemists would just be like “welp guess this kid is our new apprentice” and they just take him under their wing.
They would ask him “you dont look from around here, where you from?” (Since he’s brown and and has a latino accent) and he would be like “….Cantaloupia…….?" and they would be like "hmmmmmmmoKAY!!!”
at some point the Camelot trio Doux, Claire and Steve are just like “hey where’d Krel go?” and it would cut to like a scene where he’s like blowing something up with the alchemists with the biggest smile on his face and like “WOOO!!!!!”
They give him a set of these potion holsters full of different potions and chemicals and powders for on-the-go alchemy and he gets SO EXCITED (yes I use pinterest)
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Like the Camelot trio + Toby would just be chilling in their room trying to figure out how to fix the timeline and Krel would just burst into the room like “GUYS LOOK WHAT I GOT!!!!!!!!” like the nerd he is
He and Toby get distracted with the cool stuff Krel can do with his potions while Douxie and Claire just look at them like tired parents like
Douxie and Claire: “gUYS we still have to fix the timeline and save Jim!!!
Krel: yeah but watch this! *does some alchemy*
Toby: SOCOOLSOCOOLSOCOOLSOCOOL!!!!
Douxie and Claire: *looks into the pretend camera like they’re on the Office*
He would help Arcadia Douxie set up traps all over Camelot 
During the Battle of Killahead, Krel would be like Honey Lemon in Big Hero Six and come up with the perfect solution with his potions to attack the GummGumms on the spot
He would be really proud of himself and like mid battle after he successfully took down a GummGumm he would just be like "WOOHOO Check me out!” And the just gets whacked in the head again (cause this is Krel we’re talking about.)
This is completely irrelevant PONYTAIL KREL. I need it and this would be the perfect time for it
so anyway,
he would absolutely marvel at the sight of Douxie’s spellcaster guitar just like he and Aja did when they saw Jim’s armor. 
Douxie: *uses his guitar in battle*
Krel: Is that your staff???? I want one!!!!!! How do I get one???
Claire: Focus Krel!!!!
I just feel like that would happen at some point anyway cause, it’s really cool?! I think we didn’t see it happen is cause there was no time for it to happen in the actual show but it would totally happen at some point
Saying goodbye to the alchemists would prolly be like, “I’m guessing you want these (the potion holsters) back, huh?” And the alchemists are just like, “umm, you can definitely keep them kid??? You’re really good at this!!! We’re glad you were our apprentice!” And Krel is just like “:D :D :D :D!!!!!!!!”
Toby: 
so obviously he fell in with his warhammer cause it doesn’t go anywhere without it.
Douxie would introduce him as “Tobias of Domslaskia”, again I just feel like it should be mentioned
I want to say that he would have gotten paired up with Arthur because Jim and Arthur parallels and Arthur is the last major Camelot character that doesn’t have an Arcadian pair, but, knowing how the TOA writing team treat Toby as a character he’d prolly just be like a stable boy or the knights’ water boy or something (sucks I know) 
so like they’d all be in front of Arthur for the first time while Arthur is assigning everyone to their mentor and Toby’s like “pleasebeaknightpleasebeaknightpleasbeaknight” and Arthur’s just like “You, robust one, follow sir Lancelot, he’ll take you to the washroom. You’ll be cleaning up after they finish practicing” and Toby’s like “what??? Why can’t I be a knight too???” and he just gets pulled along.
All the knights marvel at his “metal teeth” just like Krel and Aja did when they first saw his braces
Toby would be ready to throw hands with anyone who tries to put their hands on Jim. Claire and Douxie have to physically restrain him from hurling his warhammer into Arthur’s face during one of the many times he tries to kill Jim
since Toby is just assigned as a servant boy, he can easily sneak into the dungeon to see Jim. He’s the team’s connection to Jim while he’s locked in the dungeon 
He would have gone with Jim after the dungeon break. Jim and Claire are saying their goodbyes and Toby’s like “Dont worry Claire, ol’ Warhammer will take care of him” and just goes with him despite everyones protests because he loves his best friend and wont let him leave on another adventure without him again. Claire went with him the New Jersey, now it’s his turn to go with Jim
Deya would be like “who’s this?” And before Jim can answer Toby just goes “His best friend in the whole wide world!!!!” And Deya would just be like “a human and a Troll? Friends? Now that’s a first.” And Jim would show her the pictures of them in Arcadia
Toby would see Arrrgh in Dwoza and immediately try to connect with him calling him Wingman, forgetting that this is GummGumm! Arrrgh then get sad because he misses Arcadia Arrrgh.
He would call of our trolls by their name and the trolls would get like so confused
Toby: yo my girl Bagdwella what’s good?!!!
Bagdwella: ????How does this human know my name???????
Toby: Draal! I’ve missed you!! *hugs him*
Draal: why is this human child touching me????
For the rest of it I just believe that it would be them catching up cause they’re best bros and yeah Jim loves Claire but he needs bro time with Toby again.
During the battle of Killahead he goes absolutely feral with his warhammer and kicks ass like the king that he is
He comforts Steve when Lancelot dies (because Steve deserves to mourn his father figure DAMMIT)
He also protests going back to the present without finding a way to save Jim from the shard with Claire because they both love best boy and are tired of seeing him suffer alone.
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