#quill values nothing more than honesty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dcbutinamrev · 3 years

Note

Yo can i get some hurt/comfort historical lams please

You want more angst? I gotcha! This is going to be based off of when Laurens found out about Hamilton's marriage to Eliza. I used Nora from Duty and Inclination because she's the only person/name I could think of-

***

Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens sits at the dining room table in his father's house in Philadelphia. The house empty only but him in the room, the candle light flickering on the table as Laurens narrows his eyes on it. He leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the table as he ponders about something. His expression, anyway, dark and exhausted, seems to be pondering on something.

Laurens frowns with his lips pinched together as he leans forward against the table so his chest is pressed agaisnt the table with his arms folded on top. He stares down at the piece of parchment before him, blank. His quill and and inkpot beside him. He thinks about writing a letter to his Hamilton, updating him on his health and safety during his time on parole as prisoner of war. It's been almost a year since he last laid eyes upon his beautiful Hamilton and to be quite honest, Laurens has almost forgotten what he looked like. Which is what his portfolio is for.

Laurens reaches for his portfolio nearby and flips it open. He sighs through his nose as he pulls out a rough sketch of Hamilton, of when he was his and his only. In the sketch, Hamilton beams back up at him, his eyes closed and the corners of his eyes crinkle, his nose scrunching up. Mouth opened. He appears to be laughing at something, probably a joke Meade had said or a sarcastic comment from Harrison.

Laurens smiles as he stares down at the sketch, laughing himself a little as he traces over Hamilton with his thumb, resting one hand on his cheek while the other grips the paper. He swallows the lump down his throat as his eyes begin to water. In all truth and honesty, Laurens misses his Hamilton. He misses him more than anything. He misses that bright red hair of his, those strange violet eyes. He missed how Hamilton would talk in his sleep, curled up beside him and face buried in Laurens's chest. He missed how he would used to count Hamilton's freckles as he slept peacefully. In all, he missed Hamilton's beauty. He missed those soft, pink lips most of all.

Laurens sighs as he sets the drawing back down, face up. Laurens returns his attention back to the paper and grabs his quill. He begins to write.

A half hour has passed since Laurens began his letter to Hamilton. His father’s...employ in better terms...Nora enters the dining room hesitantly, watching Laurens draft his letter. Nora bites her lip as she glances at Laurens’s back facing her before back at the letter clutched at her hands and then back at Laurens.

“Mr. Laurens, sir?” Nora asks sheepishly.

“Yes?” Laurens says polietly as he turns around to face her.

“There’s a letter from a...from Mr. Alexander Hamilton for you?” she says, quickly handing it to him.

Laurens frowns slightly at the hesitancy of Nora’s voice but takes it nonetheless, carefully ripping it open. He braces himself for whatever news may come as he unfolds the letter and reads it.

His eyes scan the words until he stops on the words in his Hamilton’s handwriting: I give up my liberty.

He freezes, shaking his head as he rereads the words. His Alexander’s own words.

I give up my liberty...

Give up your liberty? Lauerns thinks. What--

I give up my liberty to Miss Schuyler. She is a good-hearted girl who I am sure will never play the termagant. Though, not a genius, she has a good sense enough to be agreeable, and though not a beauty, she has fine black eyes--is rather handsome and has every other requisite of the exterior to make a lover happy.

Laurens stares at the letter in his hands. He repeats those words in his head, his breathing starting to quicken as he shakes his head, his vision getting blurried. The words morphing together so it’s difficult for Laurens to make sense of them.

He’s married? Laurens thinks as he shakes his head, slumping back down in the chair. Nora rushes towards him immediately, crouching down in front of him to try to comfort him.

Laurens stares at his half-written letter to Hamilton in shock.

He’s married. His Alexander is married...? He’s... A thought suddenly clicks.

“Revenge...” Laurens whispers to himself.

“Sir?” Nora whimpers, scooting back as Laurens slowly stands from his chair, his mind churning.

“Revenge...he’s doing this for revenge...for me...because of me...” Laurens says as he begins to pace back and forth.

“Sir?” Nora whimpers from behind.

“He’s doing the same thing I had done...revenge...he did this out of revenge...otherwise...he would have told me sooner...”

Laurens mumbles. He glances back down at the letter in his hand, feeling himself growl low and his face twisting sourly.

Laurens growls, ripping the letter in shreds. He storms towards the table, grabbing the sketch of Hamilton he just had, staring at it for less than five seconds, before he tears it in half then tears it into smaller pieces. He yanks the other sketches of Hamilton out of the portfoilo, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes as Laurens shakes his head, not wanting to believe it.

He doesn’t look at the drawings as he tears them piece by piece. Laurens lets out a desperate wail, unable to hold it in any longer. He runs up the stairs towards his room and pulls out the other letters Hamilton had wrote to him. Words of comfort, words of hope and assurances. Words of love.

Laurens slumps down to his knees as he stares wide-eyed at the letters, his hands trembling. He hears Nora calling his name, but he ignores her. Growling again, seething, Laurens rips the letters in half. He then rips them into smaller pieces. HIs eyes lands on the first letter Hamilton wrote to him and freezes. Shakily, he grabs it and reads it.

Cold in my professions. Warm in my friendships. I wish my dear Laurens it might be in my power by actions rather than words to convince that I love you. I shall only tell you that till you bade us Adieu. I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart upon you. Indeed my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain in mankind, and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others. You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me.

Laurens scowls at the letter, the letter crumpling in his hands.

And rips it.

~~~

A few weeks have passed since the Laurens had discovered of Hamilton’s marriage to Eliza Schuyler and nothing has approved. Laurens has been rather quiet and distant, even around his father which concerned him somewhat. He hasn’t slept, hasn’t spoken a word since the discovery of the marriage. The marriage that took his Alexander from him.

Now Laurens sits at the table he was before, gazing off when a knock is heard. Nora quickly rushes over to open it, lifting her dress as to not trip over it. She opens the door and freezes.

Alexander Hamilton stands before her with a kind smile on his face, wearing his blue Continental coat and uniform. His bright red hair underneath the tricorn hat. Hamilton bows respectfully.

“This is the Laurens’ residence,” Nora says. “May I help you, sir?” She knows who he is, she’s seen such drawings of Hamilton from Laurens and she knows how he broke his heart.

“Good evening, Miss,” Hamilton says. “I am Alexander Hamilton, current aide-de-camp under General Washington. I am here to see an old friend of mine who was recently captured under the British seige at Charleston and taken prisoner. I heard he was on parole and he would be here.”

Laurens tenses when he hears Hamilton’s voice but remains still like he was before. His back facing Hamilton.

“His name is Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens?” Hamilton says.

Nora glances over her shoulder at Laurens before back at Hamilton. Finally, she steps aside and lets him through. Hamilton breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees Laurens alive and well before him. Safe and unharmed. And God, alive.

Hamilton takes off his tricorn hat and tucks it under his arm as he marches slowly towards Laurnes. He stops when he notices Laurens’s hand clenching around the quill.

Hamilton knows what this is about. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before reopening them again.

“John...?” Hamilton says.

Laurens swallows as he turns around to face him. “Alexander...”

Hamilton sighs, relieved. His tense shoulders slump. He smiles.

“It’s good to see you again, Jack,” Hamilton says.

Laurens says nothing.

Hamilton sighs, frustrated. “John--”

“Don’t,” Laurens hisses, his throat working as he clenches his jaw. “Just don’t.”

“John...my dear...you know ...you know I had to get married at some point...right?” Hamitlon asks.

Laurens still doesn’t say anything. Hamilton sighs and walks up towards him, standing face to face. Laurens narrows his eyes at Hamilton but tries to remain calm. Laurens crosses his arms over his chest.

“I can’t...we can’t be like this for the rest of our lives! Men can’t get married! Men can’t have children! We can’t...we can’t raise a family, Jack. We--”

“I know.”

“John, please,” Hamilton begs as Laurens turns around, his back facing him. “I understand your frustration and upset and you have every right to be but--”

“Do you?” Laurens snaps, glancing over at Hamilton. “Do you, Alexander?”

“Yes, actually, I do!” Hamilton argues. “I’m not the one who lied for two years about a wife left back in England and a child!”

Laurens winces.

“John, you have to understand--”

“Understand what, Alexander?” Laurens snaps. “I loved you!”

“Yes, I loved you as well! So much! And still do, every aching day!” Hamilton protests. “But it is required of the law, John! We...people like us...we do not have a place in this world.”

“I loved you!” Laurens shrieks suddenly, grabbing hold of Hamilton’s arms. “Do you hear me? I loved you, Alexander! I loved you first!”

The sight of Laurens breaks Hamilton’s heart, seeing Laurens so distressed and hurt. Tears trickling down his cheeks. Laurens lets out choked sob and rests his head on Hamilton’s chest.

“I loved you,” Laurens whimpers as more tears start to slip. “I loved you, Alexander...”

“But that does not mean you own me, John,” Hamilton whispers, stroking Laurens’s honey blonde hair and pressing a kiss to Laurens’s forehead. “I love you too, my Jack. Always.”

Laurens sniffs as he lifts his head back up to meet Hamilton’s eyes. Hamilton smiles softly as he cradles Laurens’s cheek. Laurens closes his eyes he leans into Hamilton’s touch.

“Marrying Betsey is, yes, indeed the happiest day of my life--” Laurens winces but Hamilton contnues. “But marrying her doesn’t chage my love for you, Jack. My love for you is never in doubt.”

“I wished to be your life, Alexander,” John mumbles.

Hamilton’s eyes widen and stares up at him in shock. “Jack...”

“I know it is impossible. I know...” Laurens sighs as he struggles to get his words together. “But if we could, if we were able...I would...I would want to spend the rest of my life with you Alexander.”

Hamilton beams as he stands on his toes suddenly and smashes his lips onto Laurens. Laurens grins as he presses his lips harder to Hamilton, causing Hamilton to grunt in response and hiss sharply through his nose, startled.

After a few minutes, Hamilton and Laurens unfortunately have to pull away and Laurens presses his forehead onto Hamilton’s.Hamiton giggles as he traces the crook of his jaw.

“I do.” Hamilton laughs, pressing his lips to Laurens once. “I do. I do.”

Laurens grins as he kisses Hamilton hard, their kiss turning from slow to a quick and rushed one, their breathing labored with each kiss. Laurens pulls back slowly, resting his forehead agaisnt Hamilton’s. He smiles as he whispers:

“I do.”

27 notes · View notes

argent-vulpine · 3 years

Text

Achieving the Ever After

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Sylvain/F!Byleth

Read it on AO3

To say that he was amazed that she had chosen him, after everything he’d said and done, would have been quite an understatement. Sylvain wasn’t sure if there existed a word for how truly amazed, ecstatic, thrilled he was that she had agreed to marry him. This woman had become everything to him, and the journey of her own growth was astounding in so many ways.

Ashen Demon. Professor. General and master tactician. Archbishop. Queen of Unification. And somehow, despite all that… she’d chosen to also be his wife.

He hadn’t really wanted to be Margrave before then, and he didn’t think she would have cared even if he hadn’t taken the title, but he knew what people might have said, and while he had never cared what they’d said about him, what they said about her meant a lot more.

So. He took the title, and married the love of his life.

——————

He knew that she struggled, sometimes, with the finer arts of diplomacy. As Archbishop and Queen, she had a lot on her plate, so he stepped in wherever he could, whenever he could.

He helped her decide the appropriate speech to give when they announced their alliance to Almyra, fostering better relations with the new king, Khalid - otherwise known as Claude, their close friend, who had left after the end of the war to take his own throne, leading to this very day.

A day that he and Byleth - and eventually Sylvain - had dreamed of, hoped for, and worked so hard to achieve.

It wasn’t an easy transition, of course, but House Goneril was happier to help than the populace might have thought. It turned out that Holst and Nader had a great many things in common, once they weren’t fighting each other, and their mutual respect had eased the alliance somewhat.

Nader and Judith of Daphnel’s relationship eventually coming to light didn’t hurt, either.

Byleth treated Sylvain exactly as she always had: a valued ally and partner, and a sound tactician, both on and off the field.

One of their first joint efforts had been to make a decree regarding heirs and the existence of Crests.

A year later, Byleth quietly announced her pregnancy to their innermost circle of friends.

She had told Sylvain about her own troubled birth, shown him her father’s journal, and he spent the nine months worrying about her, hoping the same fate would not befall her or their child. He said nothing when Claude came from Almyra for the last month of the pregnancy, determined to be there for them.

——————

Over the years, their family grew. Claude eventually married Hilda, which Byleth stated had been bound to happen, as Hilda seemed the only person other than herself who was willing to put up with his mischief, and who was strong enough to placate Almyrans in the turbulent times following the alliance.

Sylvain had fully settled into his role as Margrave and King Consort by that point, taking the bulk of the burden of raising their children, teaching them the ins and outs of nobility and what their parents were hoping to achieve.

Not once did they test their children for crests. All three were treated equally, with love and compassion. All three would have the chance to choose their own path. Byleth did not wish to be Archbishop forever, after all, and eventually there would need to be a new Margrave, and a new ruler of the united Fódlan.

That they had been blessed with three children was something of a miracle for the both of them, all things considered.

——————

“Sylvain.”

He looked up from the paperwork on his desk, blinking blearily up at his wife. “Did you say something, By?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention. We have visitors,” she said, moving to his desk and leaning in to brush a kiss against his cheek. “Felix and Annette just arrived, and I’ve received word that Khalid and Hilda are almost here, as well.”

“Already? I hadn’t realized it was that late. I’m sorry,” he replied, pulling her in for a soft kiss.

“Mm. You need to get ready. Do you know where Alessia is?” Despite telling him he needed to get ready, she settled into his lap, leaning back against him when his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

“She said she was going to the tower, I think. I’m sure she’s still there.” Their youngest daughter certainly seemed to enjoy the tower. He wanted to blame Claude, but in all honesty, with her green hair and eyes - so like her mother’s - he thought it was perhaps more that she felt drawn to it.

“I’ll go get her, then, while you get changed. Raina and Connor are keeping our guests occupied.”

“You mean that Raina and Connor are currently wiping the floor with Felix.”

She smiled slyly, giving him another kiss before slipping out of his arms. “Perhaps.”

He huffed out a laugh as she left the room, putting down his quill and capping the jar of ink before he stood, stretching, and went to freshen up. That didn’t take him long at all, and soon he was downstairs, headed for the training ground where he knew Felix and his other two children were waiting.

To his surprise, it was not Raina and Connor both. Connor, in fact, was off to the side, conversing with Annette and pointing excitedly at some spell or another he’d found in a book while she did her best to explain it to him.

Which left his eldest child alone with Felix… and holding her own. More than.

Sylvain leaned against a column and watched with a wry grin. Raina had definitely taken after her mother in this sense, a skilled fighter, quick on her feet in both thought and action. Unlike her mother, however, she preferred the lance, like Sylvain, rather than the sword. Then again, she was also looking to be taller than her mother even at age 10. Byleth had definitely not pouted when she’d come to that realization. Absolutely not. Or so she’d say to anyone that asked.

“Oh, look, there’s your old man,” Felix said after his next yield, grinning as he got to his feet.

“Papa!” came from both his children, abandoning their places to come and wrap their arms around him, almost knocking him over.

Sylvain laughed, tousling their hair with an indulgent grin. “You should go clean up. The rest of our friends will be here soon.”

They ran off, calling out their partings as they did. Byleth entered the training ground soon after, likely having sent Alessia off to do the same. She smiled warmly at their friends, giving Annette a hug and clasping arms with Felix, promising to spar him the next morning.

They chatted amiably, leaving the training ground to wander around the monastery while they waited for the rest of their dining companions. Byleth, of course, was stopped from time to time by clergy, students, and visitors alike, though everyone who caught her attention wisely did not take long, noting that she had company.

By the time they made their way up to the Archbishop’s floor and out onto the terrace, the children had changed into fresh clothes, and Claude and Hilda had arrived, joining them shortly after.

It was a nice evening spent with friends, though their children lamented the lack of their own companions. Claude and Hilda’s children were under the watchful eye of Nader and Judith back in Almyra. Felix and Annette had elected to leave their son at home, still too young to comfortably travel from Fraldarius to Garreg Mach.

Conversation flowed easily amongst the friends, with Byleth and Claude commiserating over the woes of ruling entire nations, their spouses exchanging tips on ways they eased those burdens. Byleth and Felix discussed a new forging technique that had arisen, talking blades until they were dragged back into general conversation with the others.

It was that night when Byleth brought up the idea of finally retrieving all of the Hero’s Relics and laying them properly, finally to rest. It was time.

It had been time, to their minds, for a long while now, but with small uprisings in the first few years following the war, and then the matter of successions across the continent, it hadn’t seemed like a good idea, despite the desire.

Byleth, especially, was ready to lay Sothis to rest, a final parting for her first friend.

——————

A year later, on the anniversary of the end of the war, Byleth and all the other wielders of Hero’s Relics assembled in the Holy Tomb. One by one, each of them laid to rest the relics, thanking them for their service.

Byleth was the last to go, whispering her thanks to Sothis and placing the sword - the goddess’ spine - into the sarcophagus meant for the goddess herself. She thought, for a brief moment, that Sothis responded, but the sensation was gone almost as soon as it began.

This was the final ceremony that would ever be held in this tomb. She had given Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn the option to say goodbye in private, after the ceremony, and then it would be properly sealed, never to be opened again.

The world had no need for relics such as these, and all they had ever done was cause pain. She was determined to put an end to that.

Sylvain loved her perhaps even more than ever for it.

——————

The academy had been reformed long ago, opening up to students from outside Fódlan. The houses were not renamed, but no longer were students sorted into them by their homeland. Instead they were sorted at random, though they hadn’t been able to completely do away with some of the older traditions.

Their children were the heads of their houses in the years that they attended.

After Alessia’s graduation - and only then - did Sylvain and Byleth finally announce the intended successions of their titles. Alessia would enter training to replace her mother as Archbishop; Connor had elected to become Margrave, preferring the smaller but still important duties of maintaining the Gautier lands, which left Raina the heir apparent for all Fódlan.

The family couldn’t be happier. Their children had chosen for themselves, and amongst themselves, what they wanted.

They still didn’t know - or care - if any of their children bore a crest.

This was the life that Sylvain had always wanted, and he was so, so glad to have achieved it.

#sylveth weekend 2020 #sylveth #sylvain jose gautier #byleth eisner #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h

19 notes · View notes

revelio-obscurus · 3 years

Text

Chapter 17/199 The Man With Two Faces

Today, we will be discussing Harry Potter through the theme of “Love.” How do we see “love” expressed or having an effect in Chapter 17 of the Harry Potter series? Of course, we have Harry’s mother’s love which is coursing through his veins and allows him to defeat Professor Quirrell (according to Albus Dumbledore)—this is perhaps the most obvious example of “love” we see in this section. But what about self-love? What about passion and desire? In this chapter, Harry again comes face-to-face with the Mirror of Erised, a magical object that shows us the deepest desires of our hearts (in other words: what we would most love to have or have happen to us). Finally, we will discuss the concept of making choices as it relates to love, self-love, as well as what we would love to have and have happen to us.

What really stood out to me about today’s chapter was Harry thinking “I must lie” when Quirrell demands he look in the mirror and tell him what he sees. This is because I have been reading Book Five with my sister for months now, and in this book, he has the exact opposite statement carved into his hand by Dolores Umbridge: I must not tell lies.

What’s really messed up about Umbridge’s punishment, of course, is that Harry is not lying at all—and yet he is forced through this inhumane and torturous punishment. But through it all, what’s ironic is Harry sticks to his guns and continues to tell the truth, even as Umbridge is being rushed away by centaurs in Chapter 33 of that book.

I love that at the start of Book Five one of Harry’s father figures, Arthur Weasley, speaks to him before his trial, assuring him “the truth will out”! We don’t know if this will be the case, but Arthur works throughout the series to instill the values of truth and honesty in all of his children, including Harry. For example, in Book Three when he confesses his desire to tell Harry the truth about Sirius Black.

One might think, however, reading Chapter 17 of the Harry Potter series: “Okay, I get we shouldn’t tell lies. But in this case, shouldn’t Harry lie to Quirrell about what he sees in the mirror? Otherwise, Voldemort would know he has the Stone and he and his worthy follower would steal it.”

This is a good point. And we do see the benefits of lying throughout the series. One notable example is when Draco Malfoy lies to the other Death Eaters in Book Seven, saying he does not recognize Harry and this indisputably saves Harry from meeting his demise in Malfoy Manor (okay, it’s not certain whether he is “lying”, but I consider this canon). A second example would be when Severus Snape lies to Umbridge when Harry relays a secret message to him about Sirius during the Fifth Book—he tells Umbridge he has “no idea” what Harry is talking about, but later uses the secret information to round up the Order of the Phoenix.

That being said, if we turn back to this chapter, we discover that when Harry does lie to Quirrell, his efforts are for naught— Voldemort immediately calls him a liar and it leads to them meeting face-to-face anyway! Therefore, we can see that his lie did not help him avoid the inevitable.

I think it’s interesting to see how we can go from “I must lie” to “I must not tell lies” from Book 1 to Book 5 and how, more often than not, Harry feels called upon to stand up and tell the truth—even if his voice shakes. Or even if he’s standing alone.

What’s immensely powerful about this scene in Chapter 17 is that Harry doesn’t even resort to using any magic or knowledge he is aware of to fight back against Quirrell and Voldemort. He actually is in such grave danger, that his body reacts instinctively: “Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell’s face.” Our instinct is something we find at our very core, as animals. We all naturally react to the environment around us just as our fellow animals do, and in times of danger, we are sent into “fight or flight” mode which is deeply encoded in our DNA. In my opinion, our instinct, as it is revealed to us during life-and-death scenarios, is one of the most honest and truthful things in this universe.

And what is the result of Harry’s instinctive grabbing of Quirrell’s face? “Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn’t touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain.”

We know from Dumbeldore’s explanation later in the chapter that it was Harry’s mother’s love running through his veins that made it impossible for Voldemort, and therefore Quirrell, to touch Harry. It was the magic of this love that made it possible for Harry to escape the villain’s clutches.

Or was it?

Or maybe I should say, “Was it just his mother’s love?”

Was it really only his mother’s love that saved him?

This was Harry’s first time in his living memory coming close to death. He realizes the urgency of the situation right away, which is astounding for an 11-year-old child. He knows that if he doesn’t find the Stone, he is going to be killed. He knows that if Voldemort finds the Stone because of him finding it, he’s going to be killed. He knows that Voldemort is lying when he says that his parents died begging for mercy. (Note: his mother did die begging him to not kill Harry, this is true, but the way he is presenting the story to Harry is a lie in and of itself because of all the gaps and holes amongst his presentation of events).

When Quirrell destroys his own hands after trying to strangle Harry (they became “burnt, red, and shiny”) Harry knows that the only thing he can do is trust in what he knows to be TRUE (and not a lie). “His only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.” This submission to what is true is what allows his body to react on instinct, thus saving his life. One could also say that submitting to what is true is an act of self-love. Harry refuses to fight against what he knows to be true and trusts in himself, letting go to instinct. And that acceptance and trust in oneself is a powerful act of self-love that, in addition to his mother’s love, saves him in this scene.

Chapter 17 re-introduces us to Quirrell as a man with two faces. And in life, we also have two (or more) faces. But how often do we see our “true” faces reflecting back at us when we look in a mirror? What would we see if we looked into the Mirror of Erised? And when we see that, will we lie to ourselves or others about what we see? Many great people have lied while looking into the Mirror of Erised, for example Albus Dumbledore in Chapter 12 and Harry himself in this very chapter. And what do they gain from these lies?

Going back to our theme about “Love” today, I feel as if I’m being called to look into the Mirror of Erised myself—to find out who I really am, what I truly love and desire in my life. And when I look in the Mirror, I’ll then be faced with several choices. Do I lie to myself or to others about what I see? Do I keep it a secret for now because I don’t think others are ready to know? One might argue that’s why Dumbledore lies about seeing a pair of wool socks in the Mirror. Harry didn’t need to know what Dumbeldore’s deepest desire was at that moment. And Dumbeldore doesn’t have to share what he sees—but the fact that he chooses to lie instead of telling the truth highlights another very important point. Even wixen as wise as Dumbledore sometimes listen to that inner voice that whispers: “I must lie.” For whatever reason—and that reason might be justifiable or not. But either way, it is YOUR choice whether to lie, keep something to yourself, or tell the truth.

It is our choices that makes us who we are, far more than our abilities. Today, I see many opportunities to make choices. I can look into the Mirror of Erised, or not. I can lie to myself about what I see, or not. I can lie to others, tell the truth, or say nothing to them about what I see. I can keep staring longingly at the Mirror, or I can take small steps towards my deepest desire in the real world.

When I imagine myself standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, I see myself reading, scribbling with a quill, making connections between books, films, songs, plays, art, and real-life experiences. As I start to understand the world and myself more and more, I am collecting my ideas and thoughts into stories, essays, and articles—sharing them with the world. In the Mirror, I see myself tying parchment to the legs of owls and sending them off into the world. I don’t always know who’s going to receive my writing. I only hope that whoever does can glean something meaningful from the words and start to understand the world and themselves just a little bit more.

#magical musings #harry potter

3 notes · View notes

sevrustobias · 4 years

Text

[ BASICS ]

First name: Severus Surname: Snape Middle names: Tobias Nicknames: none Date of birth: January 9, 1960 Age: Eighteen

[ PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE ]

Height: 6′2″ Weight: 163lb Build: Slim Hair colour: Black Hair style: Medium/Long, Straight Eye colour: Dark Brown Eye Shape: Almond Glasses or contact lenses: N/A Distinguishing facial features: N/A Which facial feature is most prominent: Nose Which bodily feature is most prominent: Long legs Other distinguishing features: N/A Skin: Sallow/Pale Hands: Long and thin Make up: N/A Scars: Various small scars scattered across his body Birthmarks: Cluster of freckles on the back of his left forearm Tattoos: Dark Mark Physical handicaps: N/A Type of clothes: Simple fabrics, dark colors, prefers robes to casual clothing How do they wear their clothes: Neat and crisp What are their feet like: Practical shoes, usually steel toed, always black Race / Ethnicity: English/White Mannerisms: Curt, Sharp-tongued, Standoffish Are they in good health: Yes Do they have any disabilities: No

[ PERSONALITY ]

What words or phrases do they overuse? Not many, since he has an extensive vocabulary, maybe some small phrases to end a conversation Do they have a catchphrase? N/A Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic Are they introverted or extroverted? Introverted Do they ever put on airs? Yes, he likes to come across more unaffected than he feels What bad habits do they have? Smoking What makes them laugh out loud? Nothing How do they display affection? Sharing books and knowledge, showing patience Mental handicaps? N/A How do they want to be seen by others? Cold, calculating, intelligent How do they see themselves? Not good enough, yet still somewhat better than others How are they seen by others? It varies between respect and dislike, few consider him a real friend Strongest character trait? Intelligence Weakest character trait? Independence How competitive are they? He likes to be better than others, but doesn’t usually feel the need to prove it in blatant ways Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Both, depending on the situation. He is controlled more by his emotions than he would like, but takes the time to consider in most cases. How do they react to praise? Either accepts it silently, or makes a snide comment, depending on the situation How do they react to criticism? Brush it off and insult the giver’s intelligence What is their greatest fear? Being forgotten entirely What are their biggest secrets? That he still cares deeply for Lily and some of his old school friends, that he’s not entirely sold on the Death Eater’s cause What is their philosophy of life? It’s just something you have to deal with When was the last time they cried? Third year What haunts them? Their past mistakes, specifically calling Lily a Mudblood What are their political views? Death Eater, slightly conservative What will they stand up for? His own spellwork and potions Who do they quote? Classical authors, poets, famous wizards Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? More indoorsy, although he has a great respect for nature and enjoys it as well What is their sinful little habit? Smoking cigarettes What sense do they most rely on? Smell and sight How do they treat people better than them? It can vary greatly depending on the person. He either lashes out at them or shows respect How do they treat people worse than them? Poorly, usually What quality do they most value in a friend? Intelligence, loyalty What do they consider an overrated virtue? Innocence, honesty If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? Social standing What is their obsession? Potions, Dark Arts What are their pet peeves? Complacency What are their idiosyncrasies? Picking his nails, biting his bottom lip

[ FRIENDS AND FAMILY ]

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? Small - just his estranged mother and father What is their perception of family? Negative, he has never had the feeling of a close family bond Do they have siblings? Older or younger? No Describe their best friend. It used to be Lily - kind and gentle, while still full of spirit. Now he has no best friend, but is closest to Lucius and gets along well with Barty Ideal best friend? Quiet, understanding and intelligent, someone he can have deep discussions with and open up to without being judged Describe their other friends. Mostly Death Eaters, superficial friendships made for mutual advantages Describe their acquaintances. A lot of people know him, but he has very little time for people that are of no use to him Do they have any pets? A black banded owl named Cerberus Who are their natural allies? Death Eaters, Purebloods Who are their surprising allies? Old school friends, although he is not willing to admit it openly

[ PAST AND FUTURE ]

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? Quiet and meek, trying to blend into the background Did they grow up rich or poor? Poor Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Neglected What is the most offensive thing they ever said? Calling Lily a Mudblood, although he says offensive things regularly to people he dislikes What is their greatest achievement? Creating various spells and potions, learning Legilimency and Occlumency What was their first kiss like? Meaningless, a means to an end What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Calling Lily a Mudblood What are their ambitions? Becoming more powerful in any capacity, becomes a Potions Master What advice would they give their younger self? Be stronger, stand up to your father What smells remind them of their childhood? Alcohol, the dirt after rain, honeysuckle What was their childhood ambition? Become a powerful wizard, have friends What is their best childhood memory? Meeting Lily What is their worst childhood memory? Having to go home Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? Yes When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? When Lily started showing an interest in James Potter What past act are they most ashamed of? His history with Lily What past act are they most proud of? Getting accepted as an apprentice to a notable potioneer Has anyone ever saved their life? No Strongest childhood memory? The way his father smelled when he came home from work

[ LOVE ]

Do they believe in love at first sight? Not anymore, although he used to Are they in a relationship? No How do they behave in a relationship? He’s never had a serious relationship, and in the few casual ones he’s had he’s been distant and uninterested When did you character last have sex? A few weeks ago What sort of sex do they have? Unemotional Has your character ever been in love? Yes Have they ever had their heart broken? Yes

[ CONFLICT ]

How do they respond to a threat? With a smile Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, although he’s not above a physical fight either What is your character’s kryptonite? Lily Evans If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? His notebooks How do they perceive strangers? As a threat until proven otherwise What do they love to hate? The Maruaders What are their phobias? N/A What is their choice of weapon? Wand What living person do they most despise? James Potter Have they ever been bullied or teased? Yes Where do they go when they’re angry? Personal laboratory Who are their enemies? Order of the Phoenix, Marauders

[ WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES ]

What is their current job? Apprentice to a Potioneer What do they think about their current job? He likes it well enough and enjoys the solitude it brings most days What are some of their past jobs? N/A What are their hobbies? Reading, experimenting with spells and potions, learning everything he can Educational background? Hogwarts Intelligence level? High Do they have any specialist training? Professionally, only potions Do they have a natural talent for something? Potions, Dark Arts, Legilimancy and Occlumency Do they play a sport? Are they any good? N/A What is their socioeconomic status? Middle class

[ FAVOURITES ]

What is their favourite animal? Owls, octopus Which animal to they dislike the most? Cats, dogs What place would they most like to visit? South America What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? A perfectly brewed Draught of the Living Death What is their favourite song? N/A Music, art, reading preferred? Reading What is their favourite colour? Red What is their password? Tormentil Tincture Favourite food? French What is their favourite work of art? Monet’s Poplars Who is their favourite artist? Da Vinci What is their favourite day of the week? Monday

[ POSESSIONS ]

What is in their fridge? Leftover takeout and alcohol, mostly What is on their bedside table? Dreamless Sleep potion, current book What is in their purse or wallet? A couple coins, various notes What is in their pockets? Wand, notebook and quill, empty phials What is their most treasured possession? Wand

[ SPIRITUALITY ]

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? Himself Do they believe in the afterlife? No What are their religious views? Atheist What do they think heaven is? He’s not sure he believes in Heaven, and if he does he’s not sure what it would be What do they think hell is? Reliving all their old mistakes over and over again without being able to make them better Are they superstitious? Not really What would they like to be reincarnated as? A hawk How would they like to die? Peacefully What is your character’s spirit animal? Bat What is their zodiac sign? Capricorn

[ VALUES ]

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Losing all control What is their view of ‘freedom’? Being out from under anybody’s thumb, not having any sides to have to choose between When did they last lie? Very recently What’s their view of lying? It’s a means to an end, a necessary evil, and at times it’s even fun When did they last make a promise? A very long time ago, he doesn’t make very many promises Did they keep or break their last promise? Broke it

[ DAILY LIFE ]

What are their eating habits? Usually three meals a day, although it is often he gets busy and inadvertently skips meals. Lots of takeout and cold leftovers Do they have any allergies? N/A Describe their home. Currently, he lives in a studio apartment in muggle London close to where he works. There’s little adorning the walls and it stays rather dark throughout the day. The furniture is second hand and the water usually runs cold Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Grab a strong cup of coffee - no sugar, just milk What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Chores that were neglected through out the week, any shopping that needs to be done, and reading/experimenting when the rest is done What do they do on a Friday night? Have a cup of tea and go to bed early if there are no meetings to attend What is the soft drink of choice? He doesn’t drink soft drinks What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Whiskey or gin

[ MISCELLANEOUS ]

What is their character archetype? The Shapeshifter Who is their hero? Tom Riddle What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? He wouldn’t Are they comfortable with technology? No If they could save one person, who would it be? Merlin If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Barty Crouch Jr What is their favourite proverb? He doesn’t know any What is their greatest extravagance? Potions ingredients, and his single set of dress robes What is their greatest regret? Lily Evans What is their perception of redemption? Unattainable, and at the moment, unwilling to try What would they do if they won the lottery? Run away What is their favourite fairytale? Little Red Riding Hood What fairytale do they hate? Cinderella Do they believe in happy endings? No What is their idea of perfect happiness? A quiet room and a good book What would they ask a fortune teller? He wouldn’t go to one If your character could travel through time, where would they go? Backwards, to the Middle Ages What sport do they excel at? Chess What sport do they suck at? Quidditch If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Invisibility

[ MAGICAL ]

What is their Hogwarts house? Slytherin What is their patronus? Bat What is their boggart? Death What is their wand? Blackthorn and dragon heartstring, unyielding, 13 1/2 inches What is their blood status? Half blood What is their political leaning? Death Eaters What is their stance on muggles? Strongly dislikes

#development #y'all I just went to go see Countdown and if anyone has seen it hit a girl UP because I have thoughts

6 notes · View notes

wonderwomanfantasy · 6 years

Text

harry potter fluff Alphabet

WHAT??? FLUFF???? ON MY sinful blog??? nah I’m kidding here you go

A = Attractive. What do they find attractive about the other?

Harry likes your personality, witty and funny people are very attractive to him and when it comes to having a partner sure looks are a factor but he really loves you for you.

B = Baby. Do they want a family? Why/Why not?

honestly, he considers his friends his family and he definitely wants to get married at some point He wants a kid or two but it wouldn’t be a deal breaker to have kids. he would be just as happy without kids and just you.

C = Cuddle. How do they cuddle?.

he has sneak attack cuddles. you’ll just be trying to work then BAM! you're now cuddling. he will hug you from behind and pull you back into a chair so you can cuddle.

D = Dates. What are dates with them like?

kinda awkward tbh, he has no idea what the hell is doing and every date is a shot in the dark sometimes it’s fine and other times it is a horrible nightmare ending with a trip to the hospital. but he tries and that's all you can ask for.

E = Everything. You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

“you are my light” cus you brighten his world

F = Feelings. When did they know they were falling in love?

this dude was ready to drop the L-word after the first date he knew right off the bat that he would be in love with you very soon if he wasn’t already in love.

G = Gentle. Are they gentle? If so, how?

he is very gentle when he touches you like softly runs his finger pads across the tops of your hands or toys with your hair very lightly to the point where you almost don’t feel it.

H = Holding Hands. How do they like to hold hands?

he loves to hold your hands it’s one of his favorite forms of PDA

I = Impression. First impression/s?

you didn’t know what to think at first, you had heard so many mixed things about the boy who lived so you approached with caution. he heard Fred and Gorge talking about you and while he had seen you around a but he had never really met you so he took what they said (that you were cute but not to be messed with) at face value.

J = Joker. Are they into pulling pranks?

he likes to see pranks being pulled on others if they’re well done but doesn't like to have them done on him or putting in the effort to pull them off himself

K = Kiss. How do they kiss?

he’d look at your lips for a long time then cup your face and pull you into a sweet and tender kiss

L = Love. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

he does and chances are he says it too early in the relationship but it’s fine because you think it’s cute.

M = Memory. What’s their favorite memory together?

he was trying to teach you how to play Quidditch, but you were terrified of going more than ten feet off the ground he laughed at you a lot but in all honesty, it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

N = Nickel. Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?

he’ll pay for you on a date and if it’s clear that you really want or need something he’ll get it for you without questions but that's about it

O = Occupation. Dream Job?

we all know what his cannon dream job is but I love the Hogwarts teachers headcanons.

P = Petnames. What petnames do they use?

at the beginning of your relationship you called eachother ridiculous over the top pet names as a joke but they just sorta stuck around so he calls you “sugar bear” and you call him “Honeypie” and like Ron gags each time he hears you call each other that

Q = Quaint. What is their favorite non-modern thing?

he has a soft spot in his heart for quills

R = Rainy Day

he likes to spend his time outside so rainy days kinda bum him out a bit, but they always manage to make him appreciate the sun more when it comes out again.

S = Sad. How do they cheer themselves/others up?

hugs always cheer him up. when people he cares about are upset he will talk things out with them and try to figure out a solution with you.

T = Talking. What do they like to talk about?

he rambles a lot and will go on long tangents about nothing but you’ll still listen to him.

U = Unencumbered. What helps them relax?

physical activity does wonders for his nerves if anything ever gets to be too much for him he’ll go for a quick jog.

V = Vaunt. What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

he brags about your accomplishments to anyone who will listen to him, he is so proud of you and everything you do and he is so lucky to be with you he will talk anyone’s ear off about you because he loves you so much.

W = Wedding. When, how, where do they propose?

you two had talked about marriage before, and he kinda proposed then? he asked if you would marry him and you said yes but then you both kinda moved on with the conversation and never brought it up again so now he will propose right. he made you a nice home cooked dinner then after you finished eating he pulled out the box, grabbing your hand from the table. before he could give you the ‘will you marry me’ speech you said yes and took the ring from him

X = Xylophone. What’s their song?

Perfect- Ed Sheeran

Y = You. You are the ___ to my ___ (e.g. the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

you are the Peanut butter to my Jelly.

Z = Zebra. If they wanted a pet, what would they get?

a dog he is such a dog person he would also like to have an owl but the dog would be more of a family pet that the two of you could take care of together.

#harry potter #harry potter headcanon #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x you

120 notes · View notes

obsidianarchives · 5 years

Text

To All The Wizards I've Considered Before: The List

Sharp pain filled Hermione’s throat. Both of her hands gripped the side of the sink, as she shook from the force of her own emotions. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat down, back to its rightful place. The tears streamed down her face, landing with a loud splatter in the sink. Why was he doing this?

Bloodshot, brown eyes looked back at her from the mirror, peeking beneath the mass of dark brown curls on her head. She looked as utterly ridiculous as she felt. She wiped her sleeve roughly across her face, taking slow shuddering breaths like her mother had taught her.

Calm and steady, she thought.

People had teased her for being a “know-it-all” and a “goody-two-shoes” her whole life. Yet, in the first week of Ron and Lavender’s newfound relationship, he had managed to consistently reduce her to tears either by being outright mean to Hermione or plainly ignoring her. This teasing from him shouldn’t be any different than her past school bullies. And yet, it was.

Calm and steady. A boy is not worth crying over.

She repeated this mantra with each breath she took. It was no use. The vision of Ron’s cruel smile swam in her mind.

—

Professor McGonagall had just finished instructing them on the principles of transforming human appearance. She was working diligently to nonverbally lighten her own eyebrows in the mirrors that were conjured before them. She had just given Harry a reproachful look after hearing him muttering the incantation under his breath when she heard a shocked exclamation. The class laughed as everyone observed Ron’s newly acquired handlebar mustache.

I guess he's gotten that attention he apparently wants so badly, Hermione had thought to herself as she laughed with the rest of her peers.

Professor McGonagall, lips pursed in disapproval, removed the mustache with a quick flick of her wand. Ron had turned to glare at her, as if she had been the one to conjure the mustache for him. Hermione had glared right back at him.

It was later in the lesson when everyone had mostly forgotten about Ron’s hefty handlebar mustache that he started in on her once again.

“Now, why is it inadvisable for a witch or wizard to transfigure themselves into an inanimate object?” Professor McGonagall asked the class. The class turned to Hermione expectantly, prepared for her to raise her hand and answer.

“Oh Professor, Professor! Please pick me! Oh please, Professor. However will anyone notice me if I don’t answer this question?” Ron’s mocking high-pitched voice had cut right through her from across the room. He bounced in his seat in a way that, although exaggerated, was not unlike Hermione when she was particularly excited by a subject.

Hermione’s face had grown hot. Lavender and Parvati were cackling while Ron beamed, soaking in the attention. Professor McGonagall’s mouth formed a tight thin line that usually meant trouble. Hermione tore her gaze away and glared down at her notes. Her vision was already blurring. The buzzing in her mind drowned out Professor McGonagall’s response.

“She’s a nightmare, honestly. It’s no wonder no one likes her.”

The memory of those words washed over her like acid on her tongue. After all this time, that’s what they had come back to? Growing up, her Muggle classmates had teased her relentlessly. At Hogwarts, Snape and other Slytherins were arguably just as cruel. Yet, somehow, it was only Ron who could always manage to make her cry. And it was at that last thought that the bell rang. She dashed out of the room, leaving her belongings behind, not sparing Ron another glance.

—

“That’s enough now.”

Her voice reverberated against the wet stone of the empty bathroom. She was at Hogwarts for one reason and one reason only – to get an education. Feeling more centered, she turned the tap to cold. She let the cool water wash over her fingers for a moment before splashing some on her face.

“You know, if you apply the sap of the Gurdyroot plant to your eyes it will decrease swelling and help to ward off Gulping Plimpies,” a dreamy voice said.

Hermione started. “Oh! Hello Luna. How are you?” she said, purposefully not acknowledging whatever nonsense Luna was trying to convey.

“I’m alright.” Her eyes had a faraway look about them as she stared at Hermione with her serene smile. “Why were you crying?”

Luna generally aggravated Hermione with her outlandish poorly researched claims but right now, as she stood there with her golden hair piled on top of her head and mismatched socks, Hermione felt heartened by her presence.

“Ron was teasing me in class today,” she said turning back to her reflection.

“That was very mean of him.”

Hermione’s eyes met Luna’s through the mirror. Although she was odd, she always had a way with words. The frank response quickened the resolve within her even more. “Yes it was, Luna. Yes it was.”

Hermione squared her shoulders. That was enough, indeed. There was a war coming and more importantly, exams. Yet here she was with her eyes bloodshot and still watery over a boy. She would get over Ron, by any means necessary. She knew what she needed to do.

—

The girl’s dormitory was thankfully empty during her free period. Crookshanks looked up lazily from his spot on the windowsill next to her four poster bed. Her book bag gave a very pronounced thunk when she dropped it on the floor. Crookshanks hopped down rubbing himself against her legs.

“Not now, Crookshanks. I’ve got work to do.”

Affronted, Crookshanks stuck his nose in the air and sauntered back to his spot on the windowsill.

Hermione opened the drawer of her bedside table where she kept all of the stationary she generally reserved for letter writing to Viktor and her mother. She pulled out several sheets of parchment with a light floral design printed on it. Now settled on her bed, using her planner as a writing surface, she tapped her quill on her chin.

A crazy idea had taken hold of her as she left Harry – who had waited for her with her things outside – and Luna behind in front of the girl’s restroom. Her feelings for Ron were inadvisable, that much was clear. Ron had never been very considerate, or kind, or thoughtful. Yet her heart still fluttered anytime he leaned over to her, trying to get a peek of her notes. His scent was always so warm, like fresh cotton and pine needles. (She would push him away every time, of course. It wasn’t up to her to pass his N.E.W.T.s for him.)

Being that her feelings were obstinately persisting, she would need to redirect her attention until they went away. This problem was nothing more than a puzzle. And the thing about puzzles is, they can be solved.

Her crazy idea was this: she would come up with a list of boys most objectively compatible with her. Through process of elimination, she would find the boy that was more appropriate for her romantic inclination. In focusing on these facts, her misguided feelings for Ron should dissipate. Lists had never failed her before.

There were many variables to consider: perception, compatibility, and schedule. The list of candidates she managed to come up with from that criteria was comically short. That was sort of the point, though. She needed a logical counterpoint to her feelings for Ron without risking actual romantic entanglement. Dipping a quill into a bottle of jet-black ink, she began writing:

Boys Best Suited for Hermione Granger –

Ronald Weasley

Harry Potter

Ernie Macmillan

Oliver Wood

Dean Thomas

She eyed the coversheet to her new project. A chuckle escaped her, causing Crookshanks to raise his head, eying her warily. Was this too much? Other girls her age didn’t deal with school crushes in such a clinical manner. Girls didn’t deal with a lot of things in the way that she did, she reminded herself.

With the list decided, it was time for the difficult part. She wrote Ronald Weasley on a fresh sheet of parchment. What was it that she liked about Ron? There was the way his brows furrowed as he concentrated during a game of Wizard’s Chess, his ginger hair falling into his eyes. She thought of the way he’d smirk and roll his eyes at her in an endearing way when she would excitedly explain a new fact she’d learned while reading. And then there were his blue eyes that would brighten just so when discussing Quidditch.

Honesty was the only way this was going to work, so she wrote those thoughts down exactly. As for what she disliked about him. There wasn’t much to say.

I can’t seem to stop the feelings I have for you, she wrote. Which is not ideal considering how we stand right now.

There. The ending was honest and to the point. That was Ron’s done and it hadn’t been as hard as she had expected. Rather than finding it emotionally draining to detail the feelings she’d been grappling with for so long, she found it to be rather freeing.

So with that, she moved on to a new sheet of parchment for Harry. His was easy. One line graced his sheet:

While it’s true that we’re compatible on paper – absolutely not. You’re the brother I never had.

Next was Ernie. He was smart and driven for a Hufflepuff. He really valued his studies nearly as much as she did. But he was insufferable. All of which, she wrote exactly on his sheet.

She moved on to Oliver Wood. He no longer attended Hogwarts, however she had always admired him. While it was true she didn't know much about Quidditch, his determination and drive caught her fancy her first two years at Hogwarts. And though she was embarrassed to admit it, she couldn’t deny her appreciation for the male athletic form. He was now playing for Puddlemere United. Something about the memory of his fierce gaze as he studied his play book and his polite greetings in the corridors inclined her to keep his name on the list and finish his sheet.

Giggling as she eyed the last name on her list, she set the final sheet of parchment in front of her. On the surface it was quite silly, but when she thought of it, he was a strong candidate. While Ginny had only broken up with Dean a week ago, in her esteem, this made him an even safer choice for her battle of wills. They had been classmates for six years sure, but his most significant role in her life was that of “Ginny’s boyfriend.” However, you’d have to live in the dungeons to not hear the chatter amongst girls across various houses and grades that surrounded Dean Thomas. He had grown to be quite attractive the past few years. Some girls even argued he was more attractive than Harry Potter.

Hermione coaxed Crookshanks off his windowsill in order to give him a good pet. She thought more about her evaluation of Dean. He was handsome, but it was more than that. They were both Muggle-borns. He was artistic and quite intelligent; the only classes they didn’t share were Muggle Studies and History of Magic. Even she had to admit that was quite a full load compared to most of their peers.

Once she finished Dean’s sheet she laid them out in front of her in order.

“Well what do you think, Crookshanks?”

He appeared to look them over contemplatively from his new spot on her lap.

“It’s just a mental exercise to help me refocus,” she explained as she scratched him behind the ears in the spot she knew he liked.

He mewed in understanding, pushing his head into the scratches. She sighed, feeling a little lighter already from the exercise.

Noise rose from below in the common room. People must be coming up for the evening to put away their school things. Lavender and Parvati would be up soon. She gathered the pages and slipped them into her bag amongst her other essays and projects. Though there were a couple of candidates she was certain were already ruled out, she would take notes for the next couple of weeks to whittle the list down further. It was a simple enough plan.

After she changed into more comfortable clothes, she headed out the girls dormitory with Crookshanks at her heels. She glanced back at the bag one last time. The plan would work, she assured herself. She would out logic her heart into finding her old self.

—

Over the weekend, the autumn chill had given way to winter mist. As Hermione walked through the breezy corridors down to the Great Hall for breakfast, she pulled her cloak and scarf closer to her. She made a mental note to give Harry the scarf she had knitted him over the summer. She knew his uncle and aunt wouldn’t have bought him any new winter wear over the break.

When she reached the Gryffindor table for breakfast, the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh orange juice filled her nose. She was pleased to see Harry alone. He had spent the weekend drilling the Quidditch team in new formations to accommodate Dean, who was acting as their new temporary Chaser to replace Katie who was still being treated in St. Mungo's.

As she approached however, her skin prickled with irritation. “Must you read that thing at the breakfast table? Is there not some other homework assignment that could use your attention?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Harry said absently, not pulling his nose from The Prince’s book. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing new, just a few suspicious Muggle disappearances,” he said as she sat and moved to pick up the morning’s Daily Prophet.

“Honestly,” she grumbled as she took her seat in front of him.

Between The Prince and Malfoy, Harry had been far too distracted to offer much support with her current predicament with Ron. It was probably for the best that she quickly ruled him out for further consideration, she noted humorously, he was too emotionally unavailable. In fact, she rather thought he was avoiding the subject. Of course, he must suspect her feelings.

It was just as well with her. Even if he had been emotionally available, she didn’t think she would want to talk about it. In an attempt to tear his attention away from that blasted book, she brought up the only other subject that interested him these days.

“How was practice with Dean and Ginny this weekend? I know it was the first since they broke up,” she said nonchalantly. She spooned some fluffy scrambled eggs onto her plate, not making eye contact. His head shot up from the book.

In an attempt to play his reaction off, he reached for his goblet, resulting in him sloshing some orange juice onto his robes ever so smoothly. “Erm, they both flew really well. You wouldn’t know anything was the matter, really. Ginny was joking with the team and making fun of Ron as per usual.”

After contemplating this a moment, Hermione said, “I’d say Dean is putting on a brave face for the team. He’s already been down to breakfast in hopes of avoiding Ginny at the moment, see?” She indicated to Seamus who was eating by himself.

Harry’s eyes trailed from Seamus to behind her at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny had taken to sitting with Luna for meals since breaking it off with Dean. Hermione turned to see her shining sheets of silky auburn hair framing her freckled face. She was chatting animatedly with Luna, who was dressed in a pair of bright yellow dungarees over a blue turtleneck. They were an odd pair, but it was true that Ginny didn’t seem troubled at all. Rather, she seemed to be quite happy in Luna’s company.

When she noticed them looking at her, she beamed at them. Hermione did not fail to notice how Ginny’s eyes lingered on Harry before she turned her attention back to Luna. When Hermione turned back to Harry, he was bright red. She raised her eyebrow at him knowingly.

“Oh, shut up.”

—

Their first two classes were spent with Hermione trying to prod Harry into just talking to Ginny. He wouldn’t confirm what she had suspected since their summer at the Burrow, but his red face and curt nods told her all she needed to know.

In Transfiguration, they were partnered together, since Lavender managed to claim Ron before Ron could claim Harry. They were meant to be lightening each other’s eyebrows, having mastered transfiguring their own. Hermione had already successfully turned Harry’s eyebrows to a shade of platinum that even Malfoy would have envied.

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry shook his wand at her face. “You’re too close Harry. You have to remember, you’re casting the spell but you’re removing the pigment. Channel that.” He grunted and tried again. “Let’s hope wooing Ginny goes better than this – OUCH!”

He had whacked her with his wand while animatedly trying to transfigure her eyebrows. His glare let her know that that conversation was in fact over. She couldn’t help the smirk that came over her.

They resumed their work on Hermione’s eyebrows. He continued poking and prodding his wand at her while she alternated between encouragement and chastisement when he muttered the spell verbally. However, she found herself getting distracted when she noticed Dean Thomas staring at them. No, he was staring at her specifically.

Every time she looked up, his brown gaze was waiting for hers before quickly averting itself. Confused, she returned her attention to Harry’s antics. Clearly, he was no longer even trying.

“Fine! I’ll show you how to do it again. You just had to ask. You didn’t have to keep poking my forehead with your wand.”

As she raised her wand to demonstrate the hand motions, her eyes met Dean’s brown ones again. A thought occurred to her. Had Harry managed to horribly disfigured her and was he trying to hide it? She clamped her hand to her forehead. “Harry! My eyebrow is gone!”

No wonder Dean had been staring at her. Her face turned bright red. Harry burst out laughing. “I dunno. I thought it was a nice look. Now you can’t keep raising it at me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and set to work conjuring her eyebrow back into place.

—

The rest of her classes passed by uneventfully. She didn’t share them with Harry and while she did appreciate having his company, she actually preferred the ones where she was alone. Classes without Lavender cooing over Ron the entire period were easier to focus in.

At the end of Ancient Runes, Hermione noticed Dean lingering near her desk as she gathered her things. Before she could make eye contact with him or speak, he walked out of the classroom. Out of an abundance of caution, she pulled out a small cracked compact she kept in her bag. Her eyebrow was intact and the proper color.

The embarrassment from Transfiguration had obviously made her paranoid. It was very likely all in her head. By the time she set out her study things on her favorite table by the large common room window, she was ready to forget the strange ordeal altogether.

Her books and parchment and ink bottles were spread across the entire table. Her book bag laid at her feet, now mostly empty except for a few drafts of essays she had started and other loose parchment. She dove into her Arithmancy homework and hardly noticed time passing. Students milled in and out of the common room but it stayed largely empty. The afternoon sun drifted lazily lower in the sky, signaling the near end of the last period of the day.

“Hey, uh Granger,” a voice called from the other side of the common room as it approached.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the chart she was studying to decipher a particularly difficult piece of numerology. “Oh. Hello, Dean,” she said curiously.

There was a small part of her that felt vindicated. So, she hadn’t been imagining things! A bigger part of her felt nervous. Though they were in the same year and house, they rarely talked. Was this about the eyebrow incident? Her face colored again. No, that couldn’t be it. Why would he seek her out just to mention he had seen her without an eyebrow? He was probably looking for Harry about something Quidditch related.

To her surprise, he sat down at her table. Although his eyebrows were furrowed in what was perhaps confusion, his earthy brown eyes were direct and determined. An echo of a thought about how handsome he was flitted through her mind.

“Uh, sorry for interrupting,” he gestured to her homework spread across the table before him.

He looked around awkwardly, seemingly unsure of where to start. This was odd for him. While it was true they had not interacted very much, Hermione did know he was a self-assured person. Unlike Hermione, it hadn’t taken him long to assimilate into wizarding culture and seem like he belonged. Had she not known otherwise, she would have assumed he came from a wizarding family.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m really flattered,” he began. “I mean, I never would have imagined you would think I’m, um, ‘intelligent or artistic.’ You’re the smartest girl in our year by far, and all. But this whole thing with Ginny is still fresh and . . . ” he trailed off.

Hermione blinked at him a few times, confused. Was Dean Thomas rejecting her? She thought back to every conversation they had been a part of in the past week, trying to remember if she had unwittingly made any misleading advances. Her eyes fell on his hand.

He was clutching a folded piece of parchment with a light but unmistakable floral design printed on it. Her breath caught in her throat.

“This was really sweet,” he held out the parchment to her. “I just don’t think it would be appropriate considering everything that’s happening right now.”

Eyes wide, she snatched the parchment out of his hand. Her eyes tore through the contents. It was undeniably her handwriting. This was the same sheet she had written up as a mental exercise for herself just a few days ago.

Your dimples are very lovely and add to the charm of your smile. It’s no wonder why girls are so taken with you this year . . .

She turned it over in her hand, on the back it said, From Hermione Jean Granger in an elegant script written in green ink.

That was not her handwriting.

Without a word or second glance at Dean, she thrust the parchment back into his hands and tore into her book bag. Frantically, she rustled through the various pages; there was her Ancient Runes essay, her Potions essay, and the rest of her loose parchment. Finally, she found it. Or rather, she found the cover page with the list she had drawn up. The rest of the pages had all vanished.

“Where did you get this?” she said as evenly as she could manage. Her breathing was heavy. How in Merlin’s name had Dean received that parchment? They had been in her book bag all weekend. No one else knew about them.

“In the owl post I assume. I wasn’t at breakfast to receive it, but the school owl found me out at the pitch.”

Panic was clinging tighter and tighter to her skin. She needed to get to Harry now and ask if he’d gotten any post from her. Nothing had come in the owl post for him during breakfast, but she had to be sure. She shot up from her seat. “This is a huge misunderstanding.”

Dean’s deep brown eyes were wide and a little worried. He leaned away, almost afraid of what she might do, clearly having taken in her frantic energy.

“Listen, this is not what it seems like. I mean, I did write this. But it wasn’t a confession. I was writing a list. I make lists to clear my head. It was sort of a mental exercise.”

Now Dean chuckled, raising his eyebrow. It was the same look she had given Harry this morning. “’More handsome than Harry Potter’?”

He was laughing at her. She stuck her chin out defiantly. “So I hear other girls say.”

Dean licked his lips, bringing his fist to his mouth, clearly biting back laughter. “Look you don’t have to be embarrassed. I just thought you deserved a—“

“I don’t need an explanation, Dean. I don’t fancy you. Thank you for being a gentleman. But truly, I’m far too busy with my studies to be writing love notes.”

It took a few seconds of consideration but he nodded, accepting the truth. She started to gather all of her things, shoving them carelessly into her bag. She needed to hurry and find Harry before Ron could find her. If they all had disappeared, logically there was a risk Ron could have received his.

“Can I have that?” she indicated to parchment in his hand.

Oddly, Dean hesitated. “You know, it’s not every day the Hermione Granger writes you a love note.”

“It was a list,” she said as she snatched the slip out of his hands. He laughed, leaning back in his chair.

Just as she was about to sling her book bag over her shoulder, she heard the portrait hole open. Dread filled her stomach as she looked up, her worst fear confirmed. In came Ron, his tousled red hair shining against his freckled face. He looked paler than usual. Her stomach flipped and then it dropped. In his hands, a floral piece of parchment stuck out. His eyes met hers, determined.

“Merlin,” she said in a barely audible whisper.

A crazed feeling came over her — that Gryffindor feeling. She had to stop him, they could not have this conversation, ever. There was only one thing for it.

She plopped down onto Dean’s lap as gracefully as she could and smashed her lips to his. He froze, startled. Tentatively, he brought his hands to her hips, likely to push her away. She could feel Ron staring. Desperately, she grabbed Dean’s face, deepening the kiss and trying to ignore the fullness of his lips against hers. Shock threatened to overcome her as she realized that she was properly snogging Dean Thomas and that he was beginning to kiss her back.

She heard a sort of sputtering sound from Ron’s direction. She had almost missed it, while focusing on not looking like a complete idiot. Snogging was not something she had much experience with. She suspected the kisses she had exchanged with Viktor, based on how many times they bumped noses, didn’t really count.

She pulled away from Dean abruptly. His eyes blinked slowly as if he were just waking up. His jaw flexed as he opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly, as if wanting to say something.

“Yes, well, thank you. Sorry about the note.”

Without waiting for a response, she stood quickly from their compromising position, snatched up her bag and hurried away from Dean. She brushed past Ron, who seemed to be frozen in confusion, and scurried out the portrait hole.

To Be Continued…

#Black Wizard History #Hermione Granger #Dean Thomas #To All The Wizards

2 notes · View notes

trained-trainwreck · 7 years

Note

If Shahin was made to be the leader of the Sunspear would he do anything different?

What a mess. Shahin drew in a deep breath as he stood at the threshold of the Knight-Commander’s office, staring down those heavy oak doors as he’d done so many times in the past. Usually if he was here it was after some colossal mishap on his part and the anxiety he felt was the anticipation of staring down the Knight-Commander’s infamous wrath. As he pushed the door open, he almost expected to see her sitting there behind her desk with her hands folded and fingers interlaced in front of her face as she always seemed to be when he entered. This time that was not to be. And never would be again. With exception of a couple empty book cases, a heavy oak desk, and the thick leather chair that sat behind it the office was completely empty. If he didn’t know better he’d say it had never been used.

Frowning, he stepped across the threshold, adjusted the carry bag he had slung over his shoulder and shifted the heavy box of personal items in his arms. Nothing about this seemed real, like it was all some kind of bizarre fever dream. He knew better. The funerals in the preceding week had driven home just how real it all was. In one fell swoop, most of the Sunspear’s command staff and several of their more senior troops had been taken from the Sunguard in a terrible and costly battle. Somehow the title of Knight-Commander had found its way to his shoulders and he was expected to step in and fill Sakialyn Emberstar’s shoes. How the hell was he supposed to do that?

A wooden thunk echoed in the mostly empty room as he set his belongings on the desk and his carry bag soon followed, discarded on the floor at the foot of her chair- his chair. Shahin leaned forward and braced his hands against the oak, fingers splayed wide, and hung his head. There was so much to be done. No point fretting about it now. He drew in another slow, even breath, exhaled, and set about getting to work. Personal effects were deposited in the drawers and distributed somewhat haphazardly over the desk top. Tomes, scrolls, manuscripts, and several thick books found their respective places on the bookshelves on either side of him. Maps were unfurled across his desk and pinned to the walls in several places around the room. Lastly, the crest of the Blood Knight Order was raised to hang alongside the sigil of the Sunguard- albeit just a bit lower on the wall.

Nearly two hours passed as he arranged things just so and finally took a seat in his chair. A knock at the door sounded almost immediately. Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a heavy sigh for what felt like the five hundred and fifty second time already that day. He took a moment to compose himself, sit upright in his chair, and try to look somewhat respectable before he called out “Enter” as relaxed and authoritative as he could manage. Maybe it worked. Maybe not. Damnit, why did other people always make this look so easy?

Through the door stepped a tall, sharp-featured blonde Blood Elf woman. Even if she hadn’t been wearing the patch covering her right eye, she would still have struck an imposing presence; one that always seemed to ooze confidence and imminent danger. In many ways she reminded him of a jungle cat- beautiful, elegant, and far more dangerous than she appeared at a glance. Having crossed blades with her in the past, he knew all too well that confidence was warranted. Shahin visibly relaxed as she pulled the door closed behind her and took up a position of parade rest a few steps short of his new desk.

“You requested my presence, Knight-Commander?”

Use of that title made him cringe. He tried to hide it but it honestly felt like a futile effort.

“Thanidiel. Yes, thank you for coming on such short notice.” He gestured to a chair at her left. “Please, have a seat.”After she was seated, he continued.

“I’m not going to waste time with the formalities. I don’t have the patience for them, so we’re going to cut straight to the chase.” He paused for a moment. She arched a thin brow. “I have no idea whose idea it was to pick me for this position or why they did it, but I need an executive officer I can trust to be straightforward and honest with me.” He leveled a finger in her direction. “That’s you. We’ll sort the paperwork out later but I’m making you my Knight-Lieutenant, Thanidiel.”

For her part, Thanidiel did not look the least bit surprised or at all phased by his declaration of intent. She simply inclined her head in a slight nod, as though this had been expected all along.

“Of course, Knight-Commander. I assume you have orders for me.”

He nodded.

“I need to fill out the rest of my command staff to replace those lost. I have a few candidates in mind but I would greatly value your input as my XO. I want you to put together a list of recommendations, their qualifications, and your personal evaluation of their abilities and suitable roles.”

Thanidiel pursed her lips, likely already putting that list together in her head, and offered another nod.

“As you wish, Knight-Commander. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see to my duties.”

Shahin gave a wave of his hand. “Dismissed, Knight-Lieutenant. Have that list ready by this evening. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

She stood, saluted, turned on her heel and turned to exit as swiftly as she entered until his voice stopped her.

“Oh, one more favor if you please?” Thanidiel turned to look at him over her left shoulder. “Send for Dawnward Dawnbrook on your way out.” There was a brief moment of curiosity on Thanidiel’s face, her brow arched and her good eye scrutinizing him, before she nodded and left the room. No sooner than the door closed with a soft click did Shahin sink back into his chair and rub his temples with his index finger and his thumb. Barely two hours in and he could already feel a headache coming on. Duty was duty, however, and there was still so much more to be taken care of.

While he waited for Lirelle, Shahin retrieved several pieces of parchment and a quill from his desk to begin penning letters from his colleagues in the other branches of the Sunguard. One to Cerethien, one to Azriah, and finally one more to Vaelrin. Each letter was identical in its nature; a request from each of the unit commanders what exactly they required of the Sunspear both on the field and off. While to many this may seem a trivial matter of little import, to Shahin this information was vital and would give him more to work with when he began to fine tune his broader intent for the Sunspear. At the very least he hoped it would establish a foundation for rapport with the other unit commanders. Building trust was paramount at this stage in the transition.

That task finished, Shahin secured each of the letters in his desk until such a time that he could get some kind of seal for them. Not so much a matter of security as it was a matter of procedure and polite discourse. Seals seemed to make things so much more official. As the drawer slid closed he heard another soft knock at the door.

“Enter,” he called again as he righted himself and straightened his tabard and tunic as his next guest stepped through the door and closed it behind her. Shahin put on his best pleasant smile (and it wasn’t a terribly good one) as she took a seat. “Dawnward Dawnbrook. I know this is sudden, but thank you for being here nonetheless. It’s been a busy week for both of us.”

Lirelle reached up and brushed a stray strand of her shoulder length blonde hair out of her face and made herself comfortable, crossing her legs at the knee in front of her and leveling her sharp gaze at him. It was strange for him, a frequent visitor to the infirmary, to see her in something other than her mender’s robes that had been traded today in favor of a loose fitting cloth shirt, some equally loose fitting simple linen pants, and leather boots. Though she was tall and thin, gangly was almost the right word to use, Shahin knew for a fact just what an intimidating presence she could be and had been on the receiving end of more than one lecture and withering glare from the Dawnmender.

“I know you’re a busy woman, so I’ll keep this as brief as I can.” That seemed to please her a little if the more relaxed shift in her posture was any indication.

“Given the…unfortunate circumstances of the previous couple of weeks, I have been tasked with assuming the position of Knight-Commander for the Sunspear. This isn’t a position I ever expected to find myself in, but here I am.” He takes a breath and closes his eyes. “I haven’t had much chance to speak with you prior but I want our professional relationship to start off on the best footing it can, Dawnward Dawnbrook.” What a mouthful. “So. I encourage you to share any questions or concerns or…whatever else is on your mind. Speak as freely as you like.”

Lirelle arched a brow, centimeter by centimeter as she scrutinized him from her seat. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly and she leaned forward toward him as though to get closer and really take a good look. He tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

“Freely freely?” she asked, her tone thick with suspicion. “Or is there a catch?”

He nodded.

“Freely. You’re the liaison to my unit from the Dawnmenders. As such, your concerns are my concerns and you may your mind in my office without fear of reprisal.”

The other brow ratcheted up to join the first. He could see the deliberation in her eyes and watched as she came to her decision. Her lips turned down into a frown. She righted herself and took a deep breath in. Shahin braced himself. What came next could only be described as a verbal deluge and he was pretty certain Lirelle never even paused for a moment to take a breath at any point.

“If you want actual honesty? There is a line between doing your job and being the bulwark the rest of us can rely on and taking unnecessary risks that put not only yourself, but those beside you in danger. A lot of the Sunspear do not seem to know where that line is, and while I don’t doubt that their intentions are noble, they can be really, really, really stupid. I don’t know if those helmets they wear aren’t soaking the blows to the head enough or something, but this seems to be a trend in this unit in particular. Just because they wear full plate and feel like they can handle anything doesn’t mean they’re invincible, and this paired with their lack of discipline, it’s a wonder that we haven’t lost more. I’ve expressed it before and now that you’re in charge, I’ll tell you. The Sunspear are quite literally our first wall of defence, and any cracks in that wall will be exploited by the enemy, to the detriment of all of us. Just as they need to be able to trust the Dawnmenders at their backs to keep them standing, we need to be able to trust them to protect us, and breaking the line to charge straight into the fight is bad for everyone, no matter how heroic it may seem.”

While he might have expected that much over time, he certainly did not all at once. Clearly Lirelle had no issue voicing her opinion when given an opportunity. Many of her concerns had been raised time and again by the Dawnmenders in the past; the very nature of the Sunspears’ presence at the front of the battle escalated their chances of injury significantly. However, there were several occasions where a lack of willingness to cooperate, glory-seeking, recklessness or some combination of the three had resulted either in more or greater injury than would have otherwise occurred. He was just as guilty of it as any of the rest.

“Well,” he began slowly, still recovering from what had amounted to a tirade, “for what it’s worth, I happen to agree with you. The Knight-Commander-” Shahin cut himself off and cleared his throat. “…the former Knight-Commander and the Sentinel were no slouches when it came to discipline, but I feel it may be necessary to try a somewhat different approach.” He sat back in his chair, bouncing his right leg as his elbow came to rest on the arm of the chair and his fingers curled at his chin. “I have always felt the Sunspear were more a collective of singularly skilled individuals as opposed to a cohesive unit. This is something I intend to rectify, I assure you.”

She seemed a bit mollified by that, but she does continue. “There’s also the issue of people brushing off injuries or illnesses, and I’m saying this in general. If you’d kindly remind them that our job is to take care of the Guard’s health, no matter how insignificant the issue might seem, I would appreciate that. Even if it’s minor, like a sprain, taking a few minutes to get it seen to can save everyone hours of time down the road. And with the amount of punching each other that they do, they’re the ones who need it most.”

Shahin inclined his head to her and leaned forward, lacing his fingers in front of him on the desk as he did so. “Consider it done, Dawnward. I know we can be a stubborn bunch and I do sincerely apologize for that. It’s in our nature, but I’ll see to it the Sunspear are reminded that even insignificant injuries are better to be treated than not. Getting them to actually follow through may be another matter entirely, but I’ll do what I can. Is there anything else I can see to while you’re here?”

A momentary pause followed. Lirelle’s lips twisted into an all-too-sweet-to-be-genuine smirk.

"Post the Sunspear training schedule in the Infirmary. The other menders will thank you later.”

“Done and done. I’ll even put in an official request that a Dawnmender or two be put on standby for our drill sessions, if you find that acceptable?”

The grin on Lirelle’s face widened into a smile.

“Oh, they’ll thank you for that too, I assure you.”

Odd. Why was she smiling like that? Surely previous leadership had made at least some kind of offer like this before, hadn’t they? Perhaps Lirelle was just being pleasant just as he was. Yes, that was it. At least he hoped it was, anyway. Whatever the case Shahin stood and leaned over the desk to offer Lirelle his hand.

“I hope this marks the beginning of a fruitful partnership, Dawnward Dawnbrook.” He paused a moment as she stood from the chair and shook his hand firmly. “And, please, call me Shahin while you’re in my office. I’m not fond of titles.”

“Lirelle,” she said, still smiling. “You’re not the only one.”

Business concluded, Lirelle turned and left Shahin standing at his desk. When she pulled the door open, she came face-to-face with Thanidiel. Both women exchanged greetings as the former exited and the latter entered, her hands full of several pieces of parchment and a couple of thick, heavy tomes she’d procured in her time out. They wasted no time getting down to business as she presented her short list of potential command staff candidates. The proceeding hours were spent debating and discussing the future of the Sunspear, mapping out the new and refined command structure to break down the unit overall into subunits to be organized on the battlefield with a clearly defined command structure. Their hope was to relieve some of the stress from unit commanders by issuing the task of providing the overall battle plan for the subunits to follow to them and leaving the execution of that plan to the more senior enlisted and their assigned subgroups. The exact composition of those subgroups was left to be flexible for the Sunspear to have the ability to interchange personnel fluidly and be able to easily identify the next in command in event of casualties.

That done, they then turned their attention to the training regimen for the Sunspear. Physical training was still an important facet, but both Shahin and Thanidiel agreed there needed to be more emphasis on the mental side. To that effect, they put together the foundation for what would be more time set aside to educate the Sunspear as a whole on battlefield tactics and command theory, further enabling the unit to maintain battlefield flexibility in the event of casualties at the higher level. Next they set to engineering a brutally difficult series of training exercises designed with one goal in mind; to entice tighter and more cohesive cooperation among the Sunspear. If they were unable to move and fight together as a single unit, there would be no success.

Satisfied with the basic roadmap, the pair of Blood Knights gathered all of their paperwork - an impressive stack of it, to be sure- and packed it away as neatly as they were able. Sundown was upon them and if they planned to present this to the Archon they would need to do so soon. Soon enough, the newly appointed Knight-Commander and his newly appointed Knight-Lieutenant found themeselves standing outside the Archon’s office. Shahin drew in a deep breath to steady his nerves.

“What’s the matter, Knight-Commander? You’re looking more green than usual. Nervous? You shouldn’t be.” Had it been coming from anyone else, Shahin likely would have taken offense. With Thanidiel, though, the wry fondness in her tone was reassuring. “It’s only your career at stake, after all.”

He laughed.

“Ever the comforting presence, Thanidiel.”

“Oh, come now. I’m not going to let you completely fuck this up.” Shahin glanced over his shoulder at Thanidiel and she canted her head to the side. “Or maybe I might. Knight-Commander Highdawn has a nice ring to it.”

He felt himself smirk.

“If this goes badly, I’m telling the Archon this is all your idea and I’m just a colossal idiot.”

Her one good eye glinted mischievously, giving away her good humor despite her usual stony expression.

“Oh, I think that will already be readily apparent to him.”

Another moment of trepidation passed as he summoned the will to knock once on the Archon’s door. He bade them to enter from the other side and Shahin reached out to take the knob in his hand.

Here goes nothing.

(( This uh. Turned into a thing. @vaelrin @curiouslich @sakialyn @thanidiel @retributionpriest @lissanaria @felthier @azriah for mentions and whatnot.

I think that’s everybody.

Thanks for another cool ask! ))

#Shahin #Shahin the Phoenix #Blood Knight #WOrld of Warcraft #WoW #Moon Guard #The Sunguard #Asked and answered

8 notes · View notes