#she watched danny's interview yesterday or whatever day it was and was so convinced he was bluffing about ryan

[varadasethus]

I think my mum is still more convinced than any actual fan that Ryan's coming back, bless her

#she watched danny's interview yesterday or whatever day it was and was so convinced he was bluffing about ryan #he absolutely was not but it's adorable that she still believes a return is happening #“but aaron has the brca gene!” yes mother dearest i know. this does not mean Robert's going to come back and save him. #afaik she doesn't even care for robert #which makes this all funnier

[snackleggg]

It wasn't hard, in that moment

~~~

Angsty one shot without a happy ending. Sometimes hate can blind you to the simplest things.

~~~

This couldn't be happening.

There was no way this was happening.

But the screen didn't change as Maddie and Jack Fenton stared at the news on their TV.

" -and with all this in mind the government has not only decided to revoke the Anti-ecto act but to also give ghosts and other ectoplasmic entities that fall under that category basic civil rights. The GIW and several other unethical ghost hunting organisations are being shut down as a result and the government will soon be moving onto the inspection of smaller groups and individuals that have shown excessive malice towards these beings-" The news reporter continued on but Maddie couldn't really listen to anything else they were saying.

She didn't think it would ever get this out of hand. At first it had been small things, the impressionable and naive children of Casper high supporting that menace Phantom. Then when word of ghosts being real spread to the rest of the world other groups supporting them and their rights as people started popping up.

Now the Anti-ecto laws were not only taken down but new laws protecting the scum were put up. How did this happen?

A growl escaped Maddie "Phantom".

Of course that evil menace had to be up to this. He and his ghost pals must have mind controlled government officials. Now Fenton works would undoubtedly be inspected and shut down considering the new Ectoplasmic Protection Act.

They had to work fast Maddie decided.

If they could destroy Phantom then whatever ghostly hold he had over the government would disappear and they would all come to their senses.

Maddie stood up and started stomping her way down the stairs. She didn't even notice Jack continuing to watch the news as they interviewed some ghosts on what they thought about the situation. She didn't even notice how Jazz was standing proudly at the top of the stairs or the suspicious look Jazz threw her way when she had left.

With her new urgency it wasn't hard for her to finish a project they had in the works for a while. Her and Jack had kept it top secret so that the scum couldn't somehow find out and destroy it like they did with some of their other brilliant inventions.

The Fenton Ghost Filter was about to get a test run on the local menace.

Unlike something like the Ghost Grabber or a Ghost Shield, the Ghost Filter didn't filter ghosts from an object or just force them away. It filtered them from existence. Separating all their ectoplasm down to the molecular bond, they would become nothing but air.

It wasn't hard to find the menace. He had just finished sucking another ghost into a Fenton Thermos, Maddie still couldn't figure out where he had got his hands on one. It wasn't hard to get his attention and expertly lie about her intentions, about seeing the news and understanding how wrong she had been, about how she wanted to speak to him and make a truce.

The words were bitter on her tongue and it took everything in her to keep her expression of friendliness up and not let any venom or disgust leak into her voice.

He was obviously still cautious when he approached her. He carried himself with the air of someone ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Of course Maddie would never give him that chance.

The moment he was in close enough where she knew she wouldn't miss she pulled out her newest invention. She saw the moment he realised what she was about to do, the moment he realised she had lied and the moment he realised that even with his speed he wouldn't be able to dodge in time.

Maddie saw the fear in Phantom's acid green eyes.

She smiled.

She was proud to be the cause of that fear.

She pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down after Phantom collapsed. Not in the good way either.

It wasn't the same kind of slow as when she was about to shoot him, when she was savouring that moment, that victory.

At first it was caused by confusion.

Why hadn't he been torn apart instantly? Maybe she had gotten something wrong in her rush to finish it? Maybe a calculation had been off?

Then white rings appeared around Phantom's waist and travelled up his body.

She was tense. Was this a new power? A new attack? Thanks to those damn new laws it would be seen as self defense if he attacked her now.

Then when the rings of white light disappeared her son was left there on the ground. He was screaming.

Over the years Maddie had learned to ignore the screams of ghosts, they were all just ploys to gain her sympathy of the emotionless creatures. The screams of ghosts had become white noise to her, nothing more than a passing irritation.

But infront of her right now was not a ghost but her son. Her baby boy. He was screaming. He was in pain.

The mother in her wanted to run over to her boy right then and try and make him feel better, comfort him and make his pain stop.

The ghost hunter in her, the part of her that had been driving her every action up until that point, whispered in her ear how this was a trap. Phantom was trying to trick her like always, trying to gain her sympathy by making himself look like her son.

The two sides were at war, and so Maddie was frozen.

Then time seemed to snap back into gear, moving fast now like a rushing river.

Someone ran past her, towards Danny (Phantomphantomphantom). It took her a moment to realise it was Jazz. She was quickly followed by Danny's two friends, Sam and Tucker.

They were all panicking. All calling out to Danny, asking what was wrong, asking what happened and what they should do. Reassuring him that everything was going to be okay, though it sounded like they were trying to convince themselves just as much as they were trying to convince him.

The entire time Maddie could barely hear them over the screams, over her son's (Phantom's) screams.

Then it all stopped.

The screams cut off abruptly, like the plug being pulled from a TV.

Danny (Phantom that's Phantom it's Phantom) fell limp.

Sam was crying, Maddie had never seen her cry before. She was always such a strong girl.

Tucker seemed to be franctically looking for a plus, both on Danny's wrist and neck.

Jazz was-

Maddie felt like she had been slapped when she looked at Jazz.

Jazz was staring at her- no, glaring.

There was so much in that glare.

Jazz had always expressed a lot of emotion through her eyes, she could never really hide what she was feeling if you looked her in the eyes.

There was rage, and sadness and- what Maddie didn't want to admit looked like hatred. Unshed tears sat in the corners of her eyes as she glared at Maddie like she had just taken everything from her.

Then her eyes trailed back to Danny's (Phantom's) limp form.

He wasn't breathing. He was still, too still.

His eyes closed from when they had been screwed shut in pain.

Tucker was now also crying, he had stopping looking for a pulse.

Maddie felt bile rise to the back of her throat as she replayed the events in her head.

Maddie saw the fear in Phantom's acid green eyes. (She didn't need to try hard to imagine those same eyes as blue- sky blue like the day the baby in her arms opened his eyes and she swore to always protect him)

She smiled. (That's the last thing he saw, her smiling. Smiling because she was about to kill hurt him)

She was proud to be the cause of that fear. (She caused that fear. Her own baby was afraid of her, and she had been proud of that)

She pulled the trigger. (She pulled the trigger, she shot him, she hurt him, she killed him)

"Tragedy struck today as Amity park's local ghostly hero Phantom, whose identity was revealed to be Damiel Fenton, was killed by none other than Madeline Fenton. It has been a common fact in the town of Amity for many years that the adult Fentons have harboured a, at times, unreasonable hatred to ghostly entities. While not all the details are yet known, the broader strokes of the story are that after the government's public declaration of the Ectoplasmic Protection Act yesterday Madeline Fenton decided to act out to destroy Phantom who she and her husband had claimed to be a menace multiple times. Taking a, as of yet unidentified, weapon and lulling Phantom into a false sense of security around her before she shot him and subsequently killed him. When he died his identity was revealed to be that of her own son who, we are told, after an accident involving their prized invention, the ghost portal, became part ghost and took personal responsibility for making sure that Amity park was safe from those who wished to harm it. Madeline Fenton is being charged with first degree murder and there is currently much debate on whether Jasmine Fenton should be removed from Jack Fenton's custody-" The news reporter went on.

Jack couldn't focuse on the TV anymore. His sobs having grown too loud to be able to hear what was being said.

His wife was going to be sent to prison.

His daughter hated them both.

His son was dead.

His son had died nearly two years ago and they hadn't noticed. They hadn't questioned his strange behaviour, the falling grades, the breaking curfew. They hadn't seen their son when they looked at Phantom, hadn't recognised him.

Then his son died again, by their invention again.

He was a terrible father.

He was a terrible person.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fic #angst #hurt no comfort #danny fenton #Maddie Fenton #jack fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #dp fic #my writing

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: From chapter 25 to 36 I just love everything -Danny

Words: 5,260 

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Payphone’ -by Maroon 5

Chapter Twenty-Six: Delusions of Power.

Mel spent the next days in constant anxiety. 

She even stopped her mischief out of fear of how the interview could backfire, it was keeping her awake at night. 

At the end of a particularly rough quidditch practice Ron, Ginny and her were walking back to the castle in a very grim mood, but they still were curious about what exactly had Mel added to Harry's story.

"Well, you know," Their friend replied as she undid her braid. "Talked about Barty Jr. and how his father brought him from Azkaban — and that he fired Winky, which was a complete lack of respect for the honourable work of House-elves  (Hermione was very pleased with that part), I talked about the corruption in the Ministry, that Fudge made it very clear that the main reason why he didn't want to act was because of the money he was getting from pureblood families involved... I reckon I'll never get a job in the Ministry after this."

"I hope this works out," Ginny said. "Maybe the Order we'll get more help once people read the article, your version makes much more sense than whatever Fudge wants to sell to the public."

They walked into the Great Hall leaving mud stains on their path, Hermione and Harry were having dinner already, and they seemed to be arguing.

"Is that what she was doing?" Harry was asking. "Well, wouldn't it have been easier if she'd just asked me whether I liked her better than you?"

"Girls don't often ask questions like that," Hermione responded.

"Well, they should! Then I could've just told her I fancy her, and she wouldn't have had to get herself all worked up again about Cedric dying!"

"You're still talking about that?" Mel frowned. "Listen, I agree with you about Cho exaggerating a bit, but to be fair you're slow at picking up hints."

"You're one to talk," Harry retorted. 

"I'm not saying what she did was sensible," said Hermione, throwing a nervous glance at them and interrupting before things got awkward. "I'm just trying to make you see how she was feeling at the time."

"You should write a book," Ron said, "translating mad things girls do so boys can understand them."

"Yeah!" said Harry.

"Girls are humans just like you," Mel scowled. "There are no 'rules' — Just try to get to know the girl for a change instead of just looking for a quick snog."

Harry looked back at the Ravenclaw table wistfully, Cho was leaving it with her friend Marietta, and she didn't glance his way before walking out.

"So, how was Quidditch practice?" He sighed, turning his attention back to his friends.

"It was a nightmare," said Ron.

"Oh come on," Hermione tried, "I'm sure it wasn't that —"

"Yes, it was," Ginny pouted. "It was appalling. Angelina was nearly in tears by the end of it."

Mel let out a long sigh and pushed her hair out of the way, it was starting to get a bit impossible to handle at this point and it was always messy, she really needed to get rid of half of it.

"Can't say I'm doing marvellous work as a beater if I'm honest. I'm not as strong as Angelina would like..."

By the time Mel was going to play her first game ever the atmosphere was extremely dense. Her Hufflepuff friends wished her luck in a way that let her know they already felt like the winners. She couldn't blame them, Ron was looking greener and greener with every step he took towards the dressing room. 

Mel was about to enter when Fred caught up and kissed her. She couldn't even react properly.

"For good luck!" He smirked. "Isn't that the tradition?"

Mel was flustered, she ushered him away and stood there in shock, hearing as he laughed about her reaction with George. Someone cleared his throat behind her, it was Harry.

"When did you get here?" She asked in dread.

"Just a moment," Harry said, a faint blush on his cheeks. "But I saw you were... er... having a moment. I figured it was better if I just waited until Fred was gone."

"Okay," Mel said clumsily, pushing her hair back. 

"I wanted to wish you good luck," He said. "It's your first game... when it was my game you were there so... it's my turn, isn't it?"

"You don't have to," Mel said, panicking about Harry kissing her cheek after such a long time without physical contact. She no longer knew what boundaries existed between them. 

"It's the least I can do," Harry hesitated before awkwardly stepping forward, holding out his hand so she could shake it.

Mel grabbed it and shook it firmly.

"Good luck."

"Thanks," She smiled.

Once inside and dressed in the uniform, Mel stared at her reflection in awe. 

"I'm wearing a Quidditch uniform," She told Ginny. "And I look so good..."

"Yeah, yeah, you're pretty," Ginny rolled her eyes grinning. "Let's go, before your big-head stops you from looking away..."

The good part? Ginny caught the snitch. 

They still lost.

She'd threw a bludger directly to a chaser and caused him to drop the quaffle, but Slope was dreadful, he kept missing every time. Ron was beyond miserable when the game was over, now not only the Slytherins were singing, but also the Hufflepuffs. 

Back in the common room, once she had taken a bath, she walked in and listened to Harry and Ginny's conversation as she sat down tiredly next to them, hanging her legs over the armrest and leaning on Ginny's shoulder.

"I was lucky," The girl was saying. "It wasn't a very fast snitch and Summerby's got a cold, he sneezed and closed his eyes at exactly the wrong moment. Anyway, once you're back on the team —"

"Ginny, I've got a lifelong ban."

"You're banned as long as Umbridge is in the school. There's a difference. Anyway, once you're back, I think I'll try out for Chaser. Angelina and Alicia are both leaving next year and I prefer goal-scoring to seeking anyway." 

Mel sighed, rubbing her temples. 

"You were right about how cathartic it is to be a Beater, but I think I'm not good enough for the position. Maybe chaser— or even seeker, if Harry insists on staying on the bench —"

"It's not like I want to stay there, you know?"

"If you say so," The girl yawned.

"Angelina still won't let him resign," Ginny added, making a vague head movement towards her brother. "She says she knows he's got it in him."

"Because he does," Mel rolled her eyes. "That idiot... if I could take away his insecurities by knocking his lights out with a bludger, I'd do it."

The next morning during breakfast was the moment when the bomb dropped. Two editions of the Quibbler arrived –one for Mel and one for Harry– inside they had their interviews. Not only that, but at least ten owls landed around the table, all with letters directed to them.

"It's good, isn't it?" Luna sat down between Fred and Ron. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these are letters from readers."

"That's what I thought," said Hermione. "Guys, d'you mind if we — ?"

"Help yourself," said Harry. 

"I'm too scared to touch any of those," Mel said hesitantly. "Don't want anything on my face..."

"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker, Harry," said Ron. "Says Mel is probably hormonal — gross lad, honestly. Ah well..."

"This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's," said Hermione.

"This one looks okay, though," said Harry, he was reading through the mail now as well. "Hey, she says she believes us!"

"This one's in two minds," said Fred who had taken the liberty to open the one's directed at Mel. "Says you don't come across as mad people, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now... Blimey, what a waste of parchment. I would believe you in a second, Lady."

"Thank you Fred, but I'm afraid you're biased," Mel grinned, deciding to start opening letters too.

"Here's another one you've convinced!" said Hermione happily. "'Having read your side of the story I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly... Little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth... and Miss Dumbledore's claims seemed to be legitimate, I had a friend who got in trouble with the Ministry and they forgave him in no time after he let go of a few galleons...' Oh, this is wonderful!"

"Another one who thinks you're barking," said Ron, throwing the letter without paying attention, "but this one says you've got her converted, and she now thinks you're a real hero — she's put in a photograph too — wow —"

"At this rate, you won't have to worry about any future dates with Cho," Mel teased.

"What is going on here?" Umbridge asked over their heads. "Why have you got all these letters, Mr Potter, Miss Dumbledore?"

"Is that a crime now? Getting mail?" Fred frowned.

"Be careful, Mr Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention. Well, Mr Potter?"

Harry pondered his options quietly but shared one resolute look with Mel and knew there was no point. She would find out eventually.

"People have written to us because we gave an interview," said Harry. "About what happened to me last June." 

"And about how much of a fraud Fudge is," Mel concluded.

"An interview? What do you mean?" Umbridge asked.

"I mean a reporter asked us questions and we answered them," said Harry. "Here —" 

He threw his copy at Umbridge and Mel got a pleasant tug at the base of her stomach at the sight. It quickly faded as she watched the woman read carefully all they'd said.

"When did you do this?" She breathed.

"Last Hogsmeade weekend," said Harry.

"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you two." 

"How would've guessed?" Mel replied carelessly.

"How you dare... how you could... I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Miss Dumbledore, hadn't I told you to learn where your place is? You have no right to speak like that about your Minister!"

Mel thought that if she was already in trouble, she was going to earn it fully. 

"I thought you'd understand, isn't blood status your biggest priority? That's why you're giving Hagrid such a hard time, right? I'm just following your lead," She glanced at the teachers' table, where Dumbledore was talking to Flitwick without paying attention to them, although she had the feeling he was just pretending. "I'll always be loyal to my people."

"Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions!" Umbridge spat, barely able to control her anger. 

"It'll be my pleasure!" Mel shouted, watching the woman stomp away from the Great Hall.

Hermione and Mel smiled at each other at the sight of the decree.

— by order of —

The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven.

Signed:

High inquisitor.

"What exactly are you so happy about?" Harry asked them. 

"Oh Harry, don't you remember what Mel said? If she could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read your interview, it was banning it!" 

If Mel was popular before, now she was almost idolized. The only student at school that had stood up against Umbridge apart from Harry. Of course, there were people like Malfoy, and kids that were related to the death eaters that were definitely not happy about it, but little did they know that Daphne and Erick had her back. Not only that, but several Slytherins were starting to realize some things, as Mel would find out in her next D.A. meeting.

The students weren't the only ones making quiet declarations, Professor Sprout rewarded Harry with twenty points when he'd done nothing but to pass her an empty watering can. Flitwick discretely gave them two boxes of squeaking sugar mice during his class and ran away almost as fast as he'd approached. 

Trelawney openly wept and claimed that Harry was not going to suffer an early death after all, but he and Mel would live to a ripe old age, become Minister of Magic and have twelve children. Since she didn't specify which part was for each, Mel blushed deeply at the mention of babies.

Even Cho forgave Harry for his silly mistake on Valentine's day, and she was telling to anyone who was interested that they had shared a lovely date the day he'd done the interview, and that she was very proud of him. 

Fred was another person who was taking great pleasure in strutting around the castle with Mel by his side. Students would look at him with sneers and faces of contempt, and although Mel didn't appreciate being treated like a prize, she was definitely enjoying the way Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott would glare at her from across the hall without being able to touch her.

Seamus approached her and Harry before their Transfiguration class.

"I just wanted to say," He said, avoiding their eyes, "I believe you. And I've sent a copy of that magazine to me mam." 

Mel was so pleased that she hugged him, Seamus didn't know how to respond. That night a party took place in the common room, she hadn't seen her friends this happy for a very long time, and she was proud to be part of it.

"What you did was foolish and impulsive”

"I'm aware."

"I thought we'd agreed on keeping a low profile this year," Dumbledore stared down at her over his glasses.

"We agreed on keeping my lessons a secret. There's nothing in that interview about my lessons with you, Professor. However, we never said I couldn't talk about Fudge."

They were outside the main entrance of the castle, Dumbledore had asked her for a private word as she walked past the entrance after finishing diner. Neither Harry nor Umbridge were near, which could be part of the reason why Dumbledore had asked her now. She didn't know what he'd been doing outside at this hour, but she was more worried about the lecture she was about to get.

"This is not the time to take things lightly," Dumbledore said gravely. "You know you're one of Voldemort's targets, he wants to use you to his advantage and now you've turned into a person of interest for the Ministry as well."

"I already was," Mel replied. "I merely talked about Fudge, I kept you out of the conversation! They might accuse me of slander, but then again they're probably too afraid of you to try it."

"And you're planning to live under my shadow?" Dumbledore asked.

Mel's annoyance increased. 

"Of course not! I've improved lots this year, I daresay I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself —"

"You have to grow up first before making such decisions," Dumbledore replied in a hard tone that took her off guard. "That kind of behaviour is what kept Aberforth from turning into his best self. You mustn't follow his lead. Matthew would've wanted you to be better."

"Give me a break, won't you? I'm fifteen — I want to have fun, I hate that I have to act like an adult when all my friends are allowed to fool around and —"

"You've been given enough freedom," The man replied. "Haven't I turned a blind eye to your acts of so-called justice? It wasn't wise of me, but I allowed it. Why?"

"Because you hate Umbridge as much as everyone else?"

"Because you wish to be something else than just a Lastname. What you haven't realized is that you already are Mel, but what you're representing right now is no better than what you used to be. You're repeating history and that won't help you." 

Mel was about to reply when a woman's scream reached them. They both turned to the oak doors, hearing attentively. Two trunks came down flying and landed roughly at the foot of the marble staircase, Umbridge walked down in tiny cheerful steps, Trelawney stumbled down holding a bottle of sherry. She was looking around frantically.

"NO!" She yelled, and the students inside the Great Hall walked out to see the scene. "NO! NO! This cannot be happening... It cannot... I refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realize this was coming? Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realized that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?" Umbridge asked cruelly.

"You c-can't! You c-can't sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"

"It was your home, until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order for your dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us." 

Surprisingly, McGonagall stepped forward and hugged the woman protectively.

"There, there, Sibyll... Calm down... Blow your nose on this... It's not as bad as you think, now... You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts..."

"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge sneered. "And your authority for that statement is..?" 

Dumbledore opened the door completely, his figure stepping into the scene.

"That would be mine," He said.

Mel followed him, but she stayed behind as he reached the place where Trelawney was.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore? I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she — that is to say, I — feel is not performing up to the standard required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her."

"You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers," He smiled the same way she would do whenever she could get away with something. Her father's smile. "You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid that the power to do that still resides with the headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continues to live at Hogwarts."

"No — no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall l-leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere —"

"No. It is my wish that you remain, Sibyll," He turned to McGonagall. "Might I ask you to escort Sibyll back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course. Up you get, Sibyll..."

Professor Sprout hurried to help Trelawney by holding her other arm and Professor Flitwick held out his wand and exclaimed "Locomotor trunks!" the objects floated in the air and followed the group of teachers.

"And what," Umbridge continued, so angry she could barely speak, "are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem," said Dumbledore. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."

"You've found — ? You've found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Twenty-two —"

"— the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if — and only if — the headmaster is unable to find one. And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"

On queue, there was a sound like hooves behind her and she turned at the same time that the rest. The sight almost made her doubt her sanity, but it wasn't an illusion. There, standing in the entrance was a centaur. 

"This is Firenze— I think you'll find him suitable." Dumbledore beamed.

When the crowd erupted into loud exclamations of shock, the old man spoke in a lower voice.

"It's not about breaking the rules for the sake of provoking," He told her. "Is memorizing your way around them, so you can use them in your favour."

The sentence 'I must not tell lies' was throbbing on the back of her hand. Hermione was already waiting for her with a jar of murtlap which she and Harry took turns to use. She knew Harry had felt the first day of her detention because he quickly approached to examine her injuries, although she rejected his help.

"Now you know how it feels," She said calmly. "Now you understand why I couldn't just ignore you, right?"

Harry looked uncomfortable, yet he had no choice but to admit she was right.

Daphne Greengrass was one of the first students to arrive on the day of the D.A. meeting, but she wasn't alone. A total of eight Slytherins had accompanied her and though they looked tense, they wanted to know what Umbridge was hiding, they wanted to learn. Once again, the group welcomed them with open arms.

"You know," Ron told her while he took a break from being Hermione's partner. "I reckon you may be right, maybe not all Slytherins are evil."

"Took you long enough," Mel patted his back lovingly. "Now be a good boy and practice with one of them."

"What?!"

"Are you afraid of snakes, Ronnie?" She raised a brow.

"Of course not!" He said, his ears gaining a reddish colour. "Hey — Hey, you! What's your name?"

He walked up to a fourth-year Slytherin so they could practice together, Mel's chest swelled with pride. It was Harry's turn to walk up to her.

"Okay, you win," He sighed, looking rather impressed. "We haven't got any fights — I guess we can all be friends."

"Can you write that down and sign it?" Mel smirked.

"Nah," He walked away with a smile.

Their first divination class with Firenze proved to be highly interesting. When Mel walked in she felt slightly disoriented, like she had walked out of the castle without really wanting to.

The classroom floor had become springily mossy and trees were growing out of it; their leafy branches fanned across the ceiling and windows, so that the room was full of slanting shafts of soft, dappled, green light. 

The students who had already arrived were sitting on the earthy floor with their backs resting against tree trunks or boulders, arms wrapped around their knees or folded tightly across their chests, looking rather nervous. In the middle of the room, where there were no trees, stood Firenze.

"Harry Potter," Firenze walked up to them and shook hands with Harry.

"Er — hi– Er — good to see you..." The boy replied awkwardly.

"And you," said the centaur, inclining his white-blond head. "It was foretold that we would meet again. Miss Dumbledore, you continue to grow into your power, I see."

"Er..." Mel accepted Firenze's hand and shook it, trying not to stare at the bruise on the centaur's chest. "I... I suppose?"

She remembered the night Firenze had saved them from Quirrel, he'd said something about her 'vibrating', she knew enough about herself now to guess he meant her magical skills were quite good.

"Professor Dumbledore has kindly arranged this classroom for us," Firenze said once the students had taken a place on the ground, "in imitation of my natural habitat. I would have preferred to teach you in the Forbidden Forest, which was — until Monday — my home... but this is not possible."

"Please — er — sir —" Parvati had raised her hand, "why not? We've been in there with Hagrid, we're not frightened!"

"It is not a question of your bravery but of my position. I can no longer return to the forest. My herd has banished me."

"Herd?" asked Lavender. "What — oh! There are more of you?"

"Did Hagrid breed you, like the thestrals?" asked Dean.

Mel cringed at the question, Dean immediately realized his mistake, but it was too late.

"I didn't — I meant — sorry..."

"Centaurs are not the servants or playthings of humans," said Firenze calmly.

"Please, sir... why have the other centaurs banished you?" Parvati insisted.

"Because I have agreed to work for Professor Dumbledore. They see this as a betrayal of our kind."

Harry and Mel shifted awkwardly in their places, they could still remember the way the other centaurs had treated Firenze after helping Harry and her to leave the forest.

"Let us begin..."

[Firenze] swished his long palomino tail, raised his hand toward the leafy canopy overhead then lowered it slowly, and as he did so, the light in the room dimmed, so that they now seemed to be sitting in a forest clearing by twilight, and stars emerged upon the ceiling. There were oohs and gasps, and Ron said audibly, "Blimey!"

"Lie back upon the floor," said Firenze in his calm voice, "and observe the heavens. Here is written, for those who can see, the fortune of our races."

Mel laid down between Ron and Harry, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. The centaur's words resonated on her mind. 'Here is written, for those who can see...'

Erick's words also came to her mind.

'Knowing what's written in the stars won't help you.'

Maybe it would have. Maybe she could've skipped her whole thing with Harry and she'd be dating someone else for real, happy to have everything she wanted in life, including her best friend.

A thought crept inside her. If she would've known everything, more importantly, if she knew what's waiting for her in the future, if she still had a chance with Harry... No, she needed to get rid of those thoughts as soon as possible, they weren't even that close. Worse yet, he was dating Cho! 

All those novels she'd read for years had messed up her mind, she needed to get a grip on reality. They were over for good, she was sure someone out there was her second chance, and she just had to look around.

"I know that you have learned the names of the planets and their moons in Astronomy," Firenze's voice brought her back abruptly, "and that you have mapped the stars' progress through the heavens. Centaurs have unravelled the mysteries of these movements over centuries. Our findings teach us that the future may be glimpsed in the sky above us..."

"Professor Trelawney did Astrology with us!" said Parvati excitedly. "Mars causes accidents and burns and things like that, and when it makes an angle to Saturn, like now, that means that people need to be extra careful when handling hot things —"

"That is human nonsense."

Ron snorted beside her, Mel had to kick his foot to shut him up.

"Trivial hurts, tiny human accidents... These are of no more significance than the scurryings of ants to the wide universe, and are unaffected by planetary movements."

"Professor Trelawney —"

"— is a human," Firenze replied without getting upset. "And is therefore blinkered and fettered by the limitations of your kind."

If Mel was honest, knowing there were things that humans simply couldn't comprehend was comforting. She could be smart, but at the end of the day, she was still human and had her limits. After a whole year of feeling out of control, the idea was a glorious revelation.

"Sibyll Trelawney may have Seen, I do not know... but she wastes her time, in the main, on the self-flattering nonsense humans call fortune-telling. I, however, am here to explain the wisdom of centaurs, which is impersonal and impartial. We watch the skies for the great tides of evil or change that are sometimes marked there. It may take ten years to be sure of what we are seeing." 

Their Professor pointed to a little red dot that was right above them. 

"In the past decade, the indications have been that Wizard-kind is living through nothing more than a brief calm between two wars. Mars, bringer of battle, shines brightly above us, suggesting that the fight must break out again soon. How soon, centaurs may attempt to divine by the burning of certain herbs and leaves, by the observation of fume and flame..."

If that was really true –and she figured centaurs could be trusted to an extent– then she would live long enough to see the next war. Her hands closed in tight fists, trying to control the way they were starting to fidget.

Firenze asked them to look for shapes in the smoke of a fire, but it didn't feel like he was actually expecting them to see things. On the contrary, it was more like he was just babysitting a bunch of children he didn't find particularly clever.

Either way, he also mentioned how this technique was sometimes useless for centaurs since they could interpret the signals wrong, so in conclusion, no one should ever fully trust their own minds. Mel got the feeling that he wasn't trying to teach divination, more like rational and individual thinking. Which, in Mel's opinion, was more valuable than any kind of fortune-telling.

"He's not very definite on anything, is he? I mean, I could do with a few more details about this war we're about to have, couldn't you?" Ron whispered.

Mel didn't want to know more. Actually, she'd been comfortable in her ignorance, and she was happy being the popular, nice girl from school. Still, she knew she had responsibilities to attend. Responsibilities that she would have to pay attention to eventually, even if she didn't feel like it. A war she had to fight. 

It wasn't just her and her mother now, it was the baby,  Sirius and her uncle Lupin. It was the Weasleys, the Dumbledores, the Longbottoms, Hermione, Erick, Daphne, their classmates, and of course, Harry. 

The bell rang and Mel gave a start. Her breathing was erratic, her hands were sweating. She got up hastily and picked up her things in a hurry, but before she could leave, Firenze called her and Harry to stay for a second longer. Ron stood there, unsure of whether he should leave. Firenze noticed this and allowed him to stay, only asking him to close the door.

"You are friends of Hagrid's, are you not?" Their Professor asked them.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Then give him a warning from me. His attempt is not working. He would do better to abandon it."

"His attempt is not working?" Harry frowned.

"And he would do better to abandon it," Firenze nodded. "I would warn Hagrid myself, but I am banished — it would be unwise for me to go too near the forest now — Hagrid has troubles enough, without a centaurs' battle."

"But — what's Hagrid attempting to do?"

"Hagrid has recently rendered me a great service," said Firenze after a moment of contemplative silence. "And he has long since earned my respect for the care he shows all living creatures. I shall not betray his secret. But he must be brought to his senses. The attempt is not working. Tell him. Good day to you."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee​

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

[darks-ink]

Disinterred CH.3

Chapter 3: How Does It Feel To Be A Ghost

"Now what?” Danny groaned and shoved his face back into the tabletop. “Ignore it and hope that the situation resolves itself?” “Danny.”

(the summary, author notes, links to AO3 and FFnet, and content warnings can be found in THIS post)

Danny groaned, slumping into a free seat at the table at the Nasty Burger. Sam and Tucker shared an inquisitive glance with each other, shrugged, and then Sam kicked Danny’s shins. Before he could protest, Tucker cut in with the question they both wanted to ask.

“What’s got you so riled up man?”

Danny glared at Sam, luminescent green bleeding into his blue irises, but huffed out an answer anyway. “The whole thing with that corpse that they found in the woods is what’s up.”

“Danny, you can’t blame yourself for everything criminal that happens in this city,” Sam attempted to soothe him, but her success was rather limited.

“It’s not just that they found that body, it’s...” he trailed off, biting his lip in thought. “The police interviewed the entire Fenton family yesterday. Like, all of us, separately.”

Tucker quirked an eyebrow at the news, and he could see Sam doing the same. Simultaneously they asked, “Why?”

Danny shrugged as the green finally left his eyes. “Dunno. They asked a bunch of standard questions, if we had heard of it and stuff like that. Not sure why they asked us, though.”

Sam’s eyes suddenly lit up, and she snapped her fingers. She looked like she suddenly understood everything. Tucker couldn’t help but nudge her. “Looks like someone figured it out.”

She nodded, and spoke with extreme confidence. “The Accident.”

Tucker frowned at her, and Danny reeled back with a similar expression on his face. “The accident?”

“How is that related to the police interviewing the Fentons to ask about a body buried in- Oh.”

Danny turned to face him, an increasingly agitated expression on his face. “I still don’t get it.”

“Danny, do you remember when you first came out of the Portal?” Sam spoke with a gentle voice, clearly hoping to calm him down.

None of them liked to talk about that day. It was easier to forget about it, to only think of Danny’s powers without remembering their origin.

“Uh, yeah? I came out as a ghost, and we were all really confused because you didn’t realize that I was me, and-” Tucker saw his eyes widen as realization struck. “Oh, crud.”

Seeing the situation spiral downward, Tucker decided that this situation needed some cheering up, stat. He slung an arm over Danny’s shoulders, grinning widely. “See, this is why we call you clueless.” Danny answered with a huff, shoving the arm away again, but didn’t say anything. Tucker could see the corners of his mouth twitch up, though. Mission successful!

Sam rolled her eyes at their shenanigans, but the fond smile on her face told them how she really felt. “Alright, so we’ve established that the body that the police found is probably Danny’s. Now what?”

Tucker shrugged helplessly. Danny groaned and shoved his face back into the tabletop. “Ignore it and hope that the situation resolves itself?”

“Danny.” The chastising tone of voice was rewarded with a groaned “Sam”.

“Seriously dude, they must’ve identified the body already, otherwise they wouldn’t have come to the Fentons. So they’re probably gonna interview you again to figure out how you’re still around if they found your corpse.”

“So then what? Tell them about what happened in the lab that day? Because I doubt that that will go over well.”

“Danny, you’re a teenager. Rebellion is kind of what we’re known for, you know?” Sam supplied. Tucker muttered an “especially you” under his breath and was rewarded with a cutting glare from Sam. Worth it.

The boy in question shrugged. “I don’t know, Sam. You say it like I should just clam up and refuse to answer their questions, but I don’t think that they’ll like that either.”

“Dude, you’ll be fine. If they call you back for more interviews, just evade their questions or something, and we’ll work on a solution for this whole thing. Who knows, maybe they’ll just give up.” Danny’s expression suggested that he didn’t believe it, but Tucker’s apparently-endless confidence seemed to help ease his worries.

“Yeah, and don’t just evade their questions either. Question them back! Ask them why they want to know whatever they’re asking. Make them uncomfortable!” Sam’s eyes lit up with a passionate fire, and Danny cringed back from her.

“I don’t think that I’m comfortable with how excited you are about this whole thing.”

Tucker huffed out a laugh. “Me neither dude, but that’s Sam for you.” The combat boot impacting his shin did little to spoil his mirth.

“So, the plan is for me to be too stubborn to answer their questions, and then hope that they’ll give up or something?”

Sam shrugged at him. “Yeah, basically.”

Danny rolled his eyes, but then nodded, a determined expression on his face. “Alright, let’s do that. If it comes to that. Which it will, because that’s just how my life goes.”

“Yep!” Tucker grinned at him, popping the ‘p’ as he spoke.

Detective Payton watched as the ghost passed by him to enter the interrogation room, and followed suit. He had to admit that the specter was incredibly convincing, both in appearance and in the way it acted.

Unfortunately, that only made his job harder.

Since the last interview his team had gone through every option they could think of to identify if the ghost was Daniel Fenton or not. In the end they had come to the conclusion that there was no way of telling. By now, the specter had spend over two-and-a-half years pretending to be Daniel. There was no knowledge, nothing they could ask for, that the ghost couldn’t have known by now.

They had concluded that the only way was to get him to confirm his existence as a ghost. From there they hoped to find out everything the spirit knew about the death of Daniel Fenton, which in turn could prove whether the spirit was Daniel or not.

The boy sat down in the same chair as last time, shortly glancing at the reflective mirror before settling his gaze on Payton. He then, with a strangely purposeful air about him, laid his arms on the table in front of him, setting down his chin in the palm of one of his hands, eyes half-lidded and with a bored expression on his face.

Payton quirked an eyebrow at the boy, but dismissed the behavior in favor of moving over to the second chair.

“Why did you ask me to come back?” The tone was more petulant than last time, and, combined with the slumped positioning, made the ghost look even more like a stereotypical teenager. Did the ghost suspect that they knew, and was it trying to act more convincingly? Or was he just a teenager acting up?

Cursing his lack of experience with these kind of situations, Payton instead focused on the maybe-teenager to answer his query. “We had more questions to ask you.”

“Yeah? Why couldn’t you have asked them last time?” He raised an eyebrow at Payton, still supporting his head with the arm he had propped on the table. His eyes were half-lidded, but underneath they were sharp.

Payton rewarded the obstinate behavior with a reprimanding glare, but it went unheeded. “The questions are based on a recent development in the case.”

The boy stiffened for a split-second, but before Payton had the chance to react he relaxed again. With a slightly too casual air, the boy shrugged. “Fair enough, but I still don’t see why you’re asking me.”

“As mentioned last time, the case involves a teenager.”

“So?” the boy dismissed, flapping the hand that wasn’t supporting his head in the air. “There are a lot of teenagers in this city. Why am I special enough to get interviewed for this case? And not once, but twice?”

Payton glared at him again, but the ghost once again ignored him. Instead Payton settled for rolling his eyes, resisting the urge to huff in annoyance. “We were already interviewing your parents, so asking you to come the first time was a logical choice. As for this time,” he smirked at the boy, “well, you already know the details of the case that the public can’t know. Better to ask someone to come back than to risk another person with the details, no?”

The boy eyed him with a suspicious frown on his face, but eventually nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Although I do wonder what kind of details you’ve found that would involve questioning a random teenager that has nothing to do with the case.”

Payton made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Perhaps, mister Fenton, we’re not questioning a random teenager.” He made sure to keep his eyes on the boy as he said it, hoping to catch the split-second reaction.

The ghost flinched, but settled back into his original position so quickly that Payton almost missed it. His eyes remained half-lidded, but his gaze sharpened even further, filled with suspicion.

Payton filed the behavior away as further proof of this ghost knowing about the death of Daniel Fenton, even if he wasn’t directly involved.

“Oh yeah?” the boy asked, his voice a mix of skepticism and accusation. “What are you trying to say? That I’m somehow involved in the death of a kid my age?”

Turning around to watch the boy via the reflection in the window, Payton hummed. “Maybe we are.”

The ghost snorted, finally pulling himself into a more upright position, an incredulous expression on his face. “You’re joking. I thought you guys thought a ghost was responsible, not a frigging 14-year old.”

“I never said that we suspected you to be the one responsible.” Payton turned back around to face him. “Unless you’re claiming otherwise?”

“What, no! Of course I didn’t kill anybody!” the boy spluttered, frown melting off of his face in favor of confusion. “But if you’re not accusing me of being responsible, and I obviously can’t be the victim because I’m not dead, then what do you suspect me of?”

Payton gave the boy a pointed look. “Look, the game’s over, okay? You’re not fooling me or any of my officers anymore. Just tell us the truth.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes, before slumping back into his chair, apparently falling back into his role of being a bull-headed teenager. “You’re not making any sense, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Payton resisted the urge to snap at him, instead running through possible retorts. He had tried just about every way he could think of to push the ghost into admitting the truth, and he had already pretty much told the ghost that they already knew. He had reached his wits’ end, and decided to throw all subtlety out of the window, going for the direct route instead.

He set his hands on the table, leaning closer to the boy as he growled his admission. “Dammit boy, we know you’re a ghost.”

The specter, in answer, jerked back from the table, eyes blown wide with barely hidden fear.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered out. “Me, a ghost? That’s- That’s crazy.”

Payton sighed deeply, rubbing his fingers in his eyes. How could a ghost be clever enough to be so convincingly human, and simultaneously be so stupid that it didn’t realize that it couldn’t talk its way out of this?

“Look, we identified the body as Daniel Fenton’s. That means that you,” he poked the boy in the chest with his finger, “are either Daniel’s ghost, or you’re some spirit playing pretend.”

The ghost scowled and swatted away the finger, speaking with venom dripping from his voice. “I’m no pretender.”

Not quite the breakthrough that Payton had hoped for, but at least the boy wasn’t denying that he was a ghost anymore. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the admission that he was Daniel, though. Why hadn’t the boy told anyone about what happened to him?

“So then why not tell us who killed you? Because I gotta tell you kid, when we asked you about the body last time, you looked ready to murder whoever did it.”

Daniel hunched in on himself, blushing, with embarrassment of all things clear on his face. “I… forgot.”

Payton froze, his brows raising up so far he was pretty sure that they had merged into his hairline. “You what?”

The boy shrunk in even further. “I forgot about the body,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in what had to be a nervous gesture.

Blinking at him, Payton straightened up. “You forgot that you died?”

“Not that I died!” Daniel clarified, “Just- Just where we left the body.”

Payton groaned, sinking into the second chair, and buried his face in his hands. “You’re joking. Can you at least tell us who did it? Who was this ‘we’?”

The boy smiled sheepishly, still rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, it was an accident. And my friends and I, we just kind of, uh, panicked. So we buried the body and then just kind of forgot about it?”

Lifting his head from his hands again, Payton set his weary gaze on Daniel. “Well, we’re gonna need official statements from you and your friends. And then we’ll have to inform your parents.”

“Wait, no, you can’t! They’re ghost hunters! Why do you think we decided not to tell anybody?!” Daniel scrambled up, the panicked look back on his face.

“Hey, calm down.” Payton made some vague hand motions, attempting to coax the boy back into his seat. “Look, it’s just protocol, alright?” he attempted to soothe, but Daniel glared at him.

“Really, you have a protocol for ‘a kid dies in an accident and comes back as a ghost’?”

Payton grunted wordlessly, but thought back of his observations of the Fentons. “Kid, just calm down, okay? I promise you that it’ll be fine, your parents clearly love you.”

Daniel huffed, but slumped back into his seat. “Fine, so what now? Official statements from the three of us, and then? Gonna officially declare me dead? Send me off to the Ghost Zone? Set ghost hunters on me to make sure I don’t turn malevolent?”

Payton resisted the urge to growl, instead settling for a fierce glare, but the boy ignored him once more.

“Well, if Phantom hasn’t kicked you out of the city then you’re probably fine to stay.” Daniel snorted in answer, but gave no further reaction, nor did he respond to Payton’s quirked eyebrow. A curious reaction, but he had more important things to focus on.

“As you guessed, we don’t have protocol for this. Most people outside Amity don’t know ghosts exist. Hell, most people in Amity don’t even know that they could pass for living as well as you apparently can.” The boy muttered something under his breath, but Payton didn’t catch what he said, and instead opted to ignore it.

“So, we’ll take your statements, including the full explanation of your death, and then we’ll talk with your parents. My team and I will talk with you and your family to figure out what we’ll do next. How does that sound?”

Daniel shrugged somewhat listlessly. “I guess it’s okay. But for the full explanation you’ll have to wait until my friends get here, since I can’t remember everything. Since it involves, you know, being dead, and all that.”

Payton snorted at the sarcastic tone, pulling himself out of his seat. “Yeah, alright. In that case, we’re going to move to a conference room so we can all talk. And we’re going to need to know who these mystery friends of yours are, so we can call them in.”

Daniel nodded and stood up as well, following detective Payton out of the room.

And so Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley were guided into a conference room at the police station, where they were met by several officers, a medical examiner, and a more-than-slightly panicking Danny Fenton.

The two of them shared a glance before sitting down next to the boy, laying their hands on his shoulders in a show of solidarity. Several of the people present raised their eyebrows at this, but no one said anything.

The boy visibly relaxed.

Payton ended up breaking the silence by clearing his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to where he was standing.

“Well, I suppose it might be best to start with introductions. I’m detective Payton, and I’m leading the investigation regarding the body found in the woods. These are the members of my team who are directly involved in the case.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the other cops, silently encouraging them to pick up where he left off.

Rosie answered his plea, standing up from her chair. “I’m officer Carver. I suppose that I’ve been the skeptic of the case.” She glanced at detective Payton, but as he made no move to interrupt, she sat down again.

Mike licked his lips, and then stood up. “And I’m officer Milligan. I guess I was the one who suggested, y’know, the possibility that a ghostly doppelganger was involved. Since we somehow found the body of a kid who was still present in the city.” He shrugged, somewhat awkwardly, and then promptly fell back into his seat.

The medical examiner rolled her eyes at the young man, but sighed and moved out of her seat as well. “And I’m doctor Beckett. I’m the medical examiner.”

The three teens held a short and silent conversation, compromised entirely out of split-second glances, before Tucker stood up. “Tucker Foley, at your service. That’s T.F., as in-”

He yelped as the other two pulled him back into his chair, interrupting his own sentence. The team hovered, uncertainly, but Sam shoved Tucker further down into his seat as she stood up.

“And I’m Sam Manson. Not, under any circumstances, Samantha.” She glared at the people present, making sure every single one got the message, before she sat down again.

Daniel glanced around the room, but remained seated as he spoke up, voice wavering slightly. “And I’m, uh, Danny Fenton.” He shrugged, somewhat helplessly. “But I think everyone here already knew that. Sort of.”

“Right,” Rosie hummed, “the ghost of the dead kid.”

Sam moved as if to answer, but Danny laid his hand on her arm and she settled down again. Payton would have suspected him of using some kind of ghostly power, except that every single interaction between the three clearly showed that they were extremely close. There likely was no need for special powers.

Really, every interaction between the three showed how close they were. To Payton, it felt like further proof that this was, in fact, Daniel as a ghost. There was no way that his friends would’ve let him be replaced.

“So now that introductions are out of the way, we would like to know more about how a teenager died two years ago, with no one informing the police or the parents of said teen.”

Sam and Tucker shared another glance, as if quietly debating who would speak up first. Apparently Sam somehow won, as the boy cleared his throat and spoke. “Right, uh. How much do you know?”

“Not much,” Beckett admitted. “We know that Daniel – sorry, Danny – died roughly two years ago, and that his body was badly burned. We know that you two were somehow involved, or at least were present when it happened. And we know that it was an accident. We can also assume that Danny became a ghost almost immediately, since he wasn’t missing for long enough to raise concerns.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. But I’m guessing that you want a full description of the accident?”

“Yes please,” Payton replied.

Once more, it was Tucker who took the lead. “Right, so we all know that the Fentons have been inventing all kinds of crazy stuff since way before the ghosts ever showed up. They had strict rules for the lab, though. No one was allowed to be down there without supervision and all that.”

“But I wanted a photo of one of their new inventions, even though it didn’t work, so we snuck in while the Fentons were out,” Sam continued. “I wanted a picture with Danny in it as well, so Tuck and I convinced him to check it out from closer.”

Hesitantly, Danny followed up. “I uh, I tripped and hit the invention. It turned on and… I guess electrocuted me?”

“The machine gave off a lot of light, so Sam and I couldn’t see anything. When it turned off again, there were two people where Danny had been.”

“One was lying on the floor, still smoking. It was…” She shivered. “It was horrific to see, and I can’t imagine that it looked much better when you dug it up. The other… Well, we hadn’t seen anything like it, back then.”

Tucker followed up. “But we could guess, based on context clues. Nowadays, we’ve dealt with enough ghosts to be able to recognize one instantly. But the accident, it happened before we had ever seen a ghost.”

All three remained quiet for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say next. It was Payton who broke the silence, however.

“You’re saying that Danny instantly became a ghost, but that he didn’t look like he did when he was alive? Like he does now?”

The boy in question was the one who answered. “We- We think that it was because of the invention. An unintended side-effect. Dying in contact with ectoplasm, or something.”

Payton hummed, then quirked an eyebrow at the three teens. “And the more ghostly appearance?”

“Well...” Tucker paused, licked his lips, then tried again. “He looked like a pretty typical ghost, I guess. But when he realized what had happened he just kind of, I dunno how to describe it, changed?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “He changed back almost instantly, looking like nothing had ever happened. He’s still pretty cold, and his vitals are kind of… off, but it’s convincing enough.”

Seeing everyone’s gazes settle on him, Danny shrugged and put on a sheepish smile. “I don’t really remember what I did, though. I wasn’t even aware of it at the time, didn’t know I looked different until after I changed and Sam and Tucker pointed it out.”

“So you got into a terrible accident, straight-up died, and decided to keep it secret from your parents?” Rosie questioned. “Why?”

The boy started rubbing his neck, a nervous gesture that Payton remembered from their previous conversation. His friends clearly recognized it as well, as they sympathetically bumped shoulders with him and offered him comforting smiles.

“Well, there were two reasons, really. I wasn’t ready to move on yet, for one. I mean, I was fourteen! I wanted to live my life a little longer, even if I wasn’t really alive anymore.”

He licked his lips, hesitating for a moment, and then continued. “And I guess I was afraid of what my parents would think. I mean, they’re ghost hunters! And at the time, no one had any proof of the existence of ghosts. Heck, my parents hadn’t even seen a ghost yet, and there I was, a ghost!” He shivered momentarily, but calmed down as his friends wrapped their arms around his shoulders.

“I guess I was afraid that their scientific curiosity would outweigh the fact that I was their son.”

Seeing that he was done, Sam cleared her throat. “So yeah, we decided that if Danny could blend in so well, then no one had to find out about what happened until he wanted them to know. So we borrowed some of the stuff from the shed, took the body to the woods, and, well, buried it.”

“And then we got so distracted by, y’know, figuring out what being a ghost meant for Danny that we kind of… forgot?” Tucker offered them an uncertain smile.

Payton frowned at this. “What do you mean, ‘figuring out what being a ghost meant’?”

“Well…” Danny hesitated. “It’s not like you get a manual when you die, y’know? Ghost have all kinds of powers, but no one ever discusses how they use and control those powers.”

Tucker snorted, apparently attempting to stifle laughter. “Yeah, he spend a lot of time going intangible at the worst moments those first few months. Got a permanent ban at school for handling glassware, since he kept dropping everything.”

“Not to mention the incidents where he would phase through the floor, or the chair he was sitting on, or his bed.” Sam grinned at the boy, who huffed somewhat peevishly in answer.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. Can’t imagine you would have done much better.”

“Well, regardless of the circumstances at the time, Mr. Fenton,” Payton cut in before the three could lose themselves in their squabbling, “We’re going to have to inform your parents, and then figure out a plan for your future. No matter how well you can blend in among the living, you can’t keep doing this forever.”

The boy nodded, somewhat uncertainly. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Does anybody else know? Besides these two, of course.” Payton gestured broadly at the other teens as he spoke.

“Uh, yeah. My sister knows.”

“Really? Of everyone you could have told, the only one you told is your sister?” Rosie quirked a questioning eyebrow at the boy.

“Well, I didn’t tell her, per se.” Seeing the continued questioning gazes, he added, in a more defensive tone. “She caught me doing something ghostly, so I had to explain it to her.”

“That explains why she was so defensive during the interviews,” Mike chimed in.

“And it makes our job easier as well, since we won’t have to tell her.” Payton turned to look at the teenagers. “Mr. Foley, Miss Manson, you’re both free to leave. Mr. Fenton, you’ll be joining me and officer Carver on a visit to your parents.”

Danny groaned, but didn’t put up any protests. His friends nudged him, offering him hopeful smiles, which he gratefully accepted. Eventually the two left, and Danny dragged himself out of his chair.

“Well, let’s get this over with, then.”

#danny phantom #phanfiction #phanfic #dp fanfiction #dp fanfic #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #oh god it's a POV that isn't one of my OCs it's a miracle #next week: #chapter 4: and there will be nowhere i can run #disinterred #dark writes

[jennifersylvesters]

not so subtle - part three

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 4.3k~ Warning: swearing A/N: meant to post this yesterday, but was a bit overwhelmed with interviews. i actually immensely enjoyed working on this part, especially because i got to add more dialogue this time around. this is a halloween part aka me trying to get caught up to the current holiday shenanigans. as always, feedback is always appreciated/loved aka give me validation

If there a holiday that reigned supreme in your mind, it was definitely Halloween. An excuse to watch themed movies and binge out on sweets? Who could say no to that? And with the day after making it possible to purchase discounted candy, it made Halloween the ultimate holiday that keeps on giving.

While you didn’t discuss it, you secretly loved dressing up for Halloween. You liked being able to wear absurd outfits that you normally wouldn’t be able to wear besides that specific day. And ever since freshman year of college, you enjoyed the freedom of wearing a revealing costume without the consequence of your parents insisting that you change into warmer clothes. You liked how some guys would get hot and bothered by your outfit, often flirting like mad with you. Of course you couldn’t flirt for to save your life, but the attention was nice. And it was true what they said in Mean Girls: “Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.”

This year you had been invited to tag along to one of the biggest Halloween bashes in Hollywood. Naturally your excitement had been at an all time high knowing that big celebrities would be in attendance. But it meant that you needed to step your costume game up. You couldn’t just go to a regular party store and grab whatever flattered you best. No, you needed something fun yet clever. It had to be appealing yet not generic that others could be wearing the same thing. You wanted to get attention on you, having guys ridiculously into you.

When you received your costume, you knew no one else would be wearing that, and that attention would definitely be on you. Except it wasn’t the way you hoped it would happen. Thanks a lot, Tom Holland.

Honestly it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Tom’s gestures of goodwill were now the worst. Long gone were the days of him just spotting you cash or comping your meals. Ever since the laundromat incident, he seemed determined to make it up to you. They just never turned out the way he hoped. The time he sent you a box of handmade chocolates? You just about choked to death when you realized he used salt instead of sugar. Those nice flowers he sent to your apartment? Turns out you were allergic to Peruvian lilies; the flowers made you break out like crazy.

Unless Emma’s name was attached to whatever excitement Tom seemed giddy about, it usually ended up a disaster. Your costume choice definitely fell into that category.

When you shared how ecstatic you were about getting to join Emma and Tom, you couldn’t help but wonder aloud what costume you should get. It was at that moment that Tom quickly volunteered to get you a costume. Naturally you hesitated. With how previous accidents had progressed, you couldn’t imagine things ending well in this scenario. You didn’t want to mess up this huge opportunity. But when Tom insisted you wouldn’t regret it, eyes pleading for you to take another chance, you reluctantly gave in.

Now you were wishing you hadn’t.

“How does someone get teletubby and tomb raider mixed up?” you seethed, stumbling around your apartment building. Your costume came the day of Halloween, the huge package arriving at your doorstep. Tom and Emma insisted you waited until they got there so they could watch your surprised expression. And surprised you were. Along with confused and angry.

Though Tom promised to get you a sexy costume, you had been delivered a bright red teletubby costume. Tom stammered as he claimed he ordered a Lara Croft outfit for you. Emma managed to convince you to at least try on the costume, stating you might actually like it when you wore it. Ha ha. Yeah right. If anything, it made your blood boil looking at how childish you looked.

“You look really cute!” Kimberly complimented your costume as you huffed around, trying to get used to the absurd amount of space it took up.

“That’s cause you’re wearing a costume you actually like” you snapped, turning to your roommate who currently wore a vagina costume. Honestly you weren’t even aware those existed till she proudly displayed it a week ago.

“I can now properly show boys where the clitoris is” she announced defiantly. “Who else can say their costume is a teaching moment?”

“Who would wanna say their costume is a teaching moment?” you grumbled under your breath.

“Teachers potentially. Maybe possibly even historians” she replied quickly, causing your irritation to rise.

“I think Kimmy’s costume is quite clever” her girlfriend, Sarah, piped up from the living room couch.

“Are you Sherlock Holmes?” Tom asked, eying Sarah’s ensemble. She tipped her deerstalker hat his direction as she flashed him a toothy grin.

“Ding ding. You are correct, Danny Zuko” Sarah responded. Tom beamed, pleased at himself that he got her costume right as well as her recognizing his attire. For the party he slicked back his hair like a greaser and gussied up as a member of the T Birds. If it wasn’t for his blunder, you might’ve complimented him. But he was currently on your shit list, which meant absolutely no compliments.

“Hope you don’t mind me asking, but why Sherlock Holmes?” Tom questioned, curiosity getting the best of him.

Sarah and Kimberly exchanged glances and sly smiles before Sarah turned to Tom. “Oh, you know. Just so when boys try to hit on me, I can say I’m on the case to find my heterosexuality which plot twist: it doesn’t exist.”

“Or you could do ‘I’ve just solved the case of whether or not this flirting works out in your favor. Turns out I will absolutely not be going home with you tonight’” Kimberly piped up. The two of them high fived one another before breaking out into giggles.

Even when the pair were being weird, you couldn’t deny how cute they were. Still, you were upset that you looked like a children's program character instead of a sexy goddess. Somehow your anger wasn’t just limited to Tom but to those having a better time in general.

“So you’re a vagina and Sherlock Holmes” you stated flatly. “You could’ve been Watson, Kimberly. Or a goddamn vagina and penis.” Both of them made a face at the latter body part. “Or fine! Two vaginas then! But nooo, you had to go and be a vagina and Sherlock Holmes. God, you guys are so weird” you rolled your eyes.

“We wanted to defy the typical costume choices, Y/N. And we’re just party hopping down Greek row with our friends; it’s not like we plan on impressing anyone. We just wanna have fun” Kimberly explained as she took Sarah’s hand in hers. She understood that your frustrations were misdirected so she kept her voice steady and patient.

Unlike you, Kimberly turned down Tom’s invitation to the Hollywood party. She had no interest in mingling with celebrities who would probably expect her to know their name. You knew how terrible she could get about differentiating the Chris’s.  

“I mean, it is a bit strange of costume choice” Tom commented, attempting to take your side. He hoped that if he showed a bit of camaraderie, you might be a little more forgiving towards his blunder. Haha. Not today, Thomas.

“Says the kid who couldn’t tell the difference between tomb raider and teletubby” you snapped, hands resting on your waist irritatedly. Well, it rested on where your waist would be. The gigantic costume made it difficult for you to distinguish where any of your curves were.

“And how well do you know the female anatomy, Tom? Would you like to point out where the clitoris is on my costume?” Kimberly asked, something in her voice clearly egging him on. He knew better than to try and point out something like that, especially if he got it wrong; he would never live down that humiliation. So he shook his head and refused to make eye contact with either of you. The male took a seat on the couch next to Sarah who just laughed and patted his shoulder.

As Tom sullenly moped on the couch, Emma pulled you aside to your room.

“He meant well, Y/N” she attempted to reassure you.

“Yeah, that seems to be the typical Tom excuse at this point.” She gave you a look, letting you know to cool it.

“I get it. Obviously this isn’t the look you were going for-”

“Yeah, no kidding” you muttered under your breath.

“-But Tom was trying, okay? He really just wants to make you happy because he cares about you. He would not have gone through all that effort just to screw you over on purpose.” You knew she was right, but you just grumbled. “Tom thinks of you as a good friend, and you know he feels really bad about this.” Yeah yeah. “Just don’t hold this against him. Please? For me?”

Everything she was saying made sense, but a part of you wanted to hold on to your anger for just a little longer. Emma looked at you, waiting for a response. Letting out a dramatic groan, you nodded your head.

“Listen, Tom’s mistake aside, you are the cutest teletubby.”

“This isn’t exactly a sexy costume, Ems” you pointed out, but she persisted.

“Someone out there isn’t gonna care about sexy costumes. They’re just gonna think ‘wow! I cannot get over that adorable teletubby’. And they’re gonna want to get with you.”

“I feel like I should be worried about any guy that wants to hook up with a teletubby.” She rolled your eyes playfully at your comment.

“Someone out there is gonna agree with me and know you’re the cutest teletubby. You’re gonna be all that matters to them, Y/N. It’s not gonna be about the outfit; it’s going to be about you” she continued. “So do me a favor and not stay mad at Tom? Because your costume is gonna attract the person who’s right for you.”

The two of you shared a smile as she gently rubbed your mitten covered hand. “Danny Zuko’s really lucky to have you, Sandy” you joked.

Emma smiled and shrugged pretending to act nonchalant. “Oh, you know. Sandra Dee is truly the best” she responded as she flipped the synthetic hair of her wig.

The two of you headed out of your room and back into your living room only to come upon the sight of Sarah and Kimberly chanting for Tom to point out the clitoris. He looked downright miserable and unsure of himself. You snickered under your breath as Emma told the pair to knock it off.

Ten minutes later a large van came to pick all of you up to take you to the party. You could feel your jitters getting the best of you as you knee rapidly bounced up and down. “You look really great” Tom chimed as the vehicle came to a stop near the party entrance. You grunted out a ‘thanks’, knowing he only said that to make you feel better. Too bad it wasn’t working.

As soon as the car door opened, you hustled to make it in to the building. The last thing you wanted were paparazzi snapping photos of you as a guest. “Please don’t let me become a meme” you prayed as someone snapped a photo of you.

The building was packed, filled with star studded faces. You got multiple glances from those around you, but it wasn’t the way you hoped. Instead of “I’m totally into that chick” vibes, you received “that’s a massive teletubby” looks. You waddled around wishing something would just go right around celebrities for once.

Making your way towards the open bar, you felt something yank on your leg. Turning you spotted a small child in a dinosaur costume. “Erm, hello?” you greeted the girl as she gazed up at you in awe.

“Are you Po?” she asked, her tone hopeful you would say yes.

“I guess I am” you replied. Technically you were wearing a Po costume, which made you Po. You figured it wouldn’t be lying.

The girl’s face lit up as she proceeded to hug you. “Will you come meet daddy with me? Please?” she looked up from her tight hold.

You knew you shouldn’t get involved. After all, you didn’t even know this kid. Plus you just wanted to drink the night away if you weren’t going to enjoy your usual Halloween flirtations. You decided that you had to be firm and just say no. “Okay?” Crap.

Somehow she managed to convince you to pick her up as the two of you searched for her dad. “I’m India” she introduced herself.

“Very nice to meet you, India. Would you mind telling me where your father is now?”

“I think he’s around there” she gestured to your left and you followed her direction. “Oh! He’s right there!” she screeched as she pointed straight ahead. You winced at the shrillness ringing in your ear. “Daddy!” she squealed as she waved to a man also wearing a dinosaur costume. As her father turned around, you nearly dropped her as you realized who he was.

“Oh, there’s where you’ve been!” Chris Hemsworth called out as he approached you and his daughter.

“Y-You...You Thor” you croaked out, gesturing randomly with your free hand.

“That I am” he proudly agreed, taking no mind to your nervousness. “And are you taking care of my little girl?”

Right as you were about to say no, India chimed “Yes! Po is the best!” What the-

Two smaller children, one dressed up as a Dalmatian while the other wore a rhino costume, approached you eagerly. “It’s Po!” one of them cried out excitedly.

“Ah, it seems they’ve also taking a liking to you as well” Chris noted, watching as his twins comfortably moved to hold on to your legs. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind the two boys tagging along as well.”

“I-uh-I” you stuttered, unsure of what to say. It sure looked as if you were a caretaker with the way they all clung to you. Were you even allowed to say no to Thor?

“Excellent! Glad to know they are in capable hands” he clapped his hands in delight, ignoring that you hadn’t actually gave an answer. He rustled his eldest child’s hair as he headed off.

“Alright then” you weakly called out to no one in particular. Sasha wrapped his chubby arms around your left leg as Tristan tugged on your other leg. Oh boy. You definitely weren’t expecting this. Letting out a deep sigh, you figured you could babysit for a bit. After all, it couldn’t be that hard.

What started off as just playing with three children ended up escalating to multiple kids. Apparently no child could resist the idea of playing with Po. You weren’t even sure how, but one child - whose damn demon of a child was it? - managed to climb your back and yanked viciously on your round antenna. You just about flung him off before remembering children were living human beings with parents that could easily sue you. Nope. Don’t want that.

So you did your best to entertain them, feeling yourself getting drained by their unwavering energy. Who the hell decided to hop these children on sugar? “Pick me up again!” India demanded, waving her arms up towards you.

“Say ‘please’” you instructed. If you were going to be their play friend, you at least wanted to get a decent amount of respect.

“Pleaaaase” she pleaded, hands grasping at the air wanting desperately to be carried.

“Good job, kiddo” you praised her as you picked her up and gently bounced her up and down. She giggled at your actions, clearly enjoying herself. Well, at least one of us is having a good time. All you wanted was to look and feel sexy for tonight, but obviously that went down the drain. Damn.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Harrison walking around the building. No surprise that he chose a costume that showed off his abs, choosing to dress up as a gladiator. He really only sported the top armor, going mostly shirtless and causing girls to gawk and fawn over him. In some ways you were jealous that he got to flaunt something while you were being mobbed by children. But mostly your mind repeatedly played the same sentence: Fuck Harrison Osterfield’s gladiator costume.

About an hour of being the children's companion, you managed to wrangle them off of you when you could feel your bladder getting full. With the massive costume, you knew there was no way you could get into the women’s restrooms without constantly bumping and potentially angering someone. So you settled for occupying one of the bigger family restrooms with single occupancy.

Except you couldn’t use the actual toilet. Thanks to all the stuffing in the suit, you struggled to grab the zipper at the back. You swore under your breath as your hands swatted towards the zipper, unable to grab it. You fumbled around, trying to figure a way out so you could enjoy the sweet release of peeing.

Bam! The bathroom door swung open and you yelped in surprise as a girl in a playboy bunny costume stumbled in. You internally cursed yourself for forgetting to lock the door. Well at least it was only her.

Psych. The girl dragged someone else by the hand, pulling none other than Harrison into your view.

“Oops!” the woman chirped as she spotted you.

“Oh, sorry m-PFFFTT” Harrison begun to apologize to who he assumed was a stranger but absolutely lost it at the sight of you. Your face turned as red as the costume, completely embarrassed in front of him.

Harrison’s female company tugged on his hand, clearly wanting to leave, but he couldn’t stop laughing. He howled loudly, squatting as tears came out of his eyes from laughing so hard.

You couldn’t get fast out of there enough.

No seriously. You actually couldn’t. The costume made it difficult for you to slip between the pair. So you awkwardly stood in front of them, shifting from leg to leg, still needing to pee like crazy.

The playboy bunny obviously did not find the situation as hilarious as Harrison. To her you were just some stranger in a childish costume. She let go of his hand and with a flip of her hair, she left. Harrison didn’t bother stopping her as he let his now free hand rest on his knee. He stood up slowly, still chuckling every couple seconds.

“Oh, man. I really needed a good laugh” he grinned, wiping away tears from his eyes.

“Great. And I really need Emma. So can you get out of here and go get her for me?” you asked impatiently. Despite asking him for a favor, your constant irritation with him never wavered.

“What’d you need Emma for? So you can get laughed at some more?” His grin widened, and you shoved his shoulder.

“No, smartass. I need to pee.” He raised an eyebrow, and you continued. “I can’t get this stupid zipper down, and I need her help so I can finally use the restroom.”

“Well jeez, Lil Skunk. I can help with that” he pointed out. Oh. This was true.

You really didn’t want him around you in general, but the choice of denying his help was outweighed by your need to use the toilet. “Fine” you conceded with a huff.

“All you have to do is ask me nicely” he added, a mischievous look dancing in his eyes.

“Are you kidding me?” you snapped. Of course Harrison Osterfield would come with terms and conditions for kindness. Obviously the laundromat incident must’ve been a fluke. Or perhaps he had a concussion that night which made him unaware of how kind he could actually be without special circumstances attached. That sounds about right.

“C’mon now. Not too difficult” he commented, crossing his arms as he waited for your polite attitude.

Maybe it was better to just pee in this costume. Kids did it all the time. You could join their league.

“Y/N, all you have to do is say ‘Harrison, I would love for you to help me out sooo much’” he assured you, knowing full well it would drive you mad.

“Osterfield. Help me before I pee in this costume” you gritted out.

“Say please” he called out in a singsong voice.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s not the magical word, Y/N” he tutted, shaking his head in fake disappointment.

“I’m gonna kill you, Osterfield” you fumed on the verge of murdering him.  

“All you gotta do is say please.” It sounded so simple, yet you struggled to say that one word he craved to hear.

You furrowed your brows, glaring at his easygoing disposition. Had anyone ever been strangled by a teletubby before? Maybe tonight would be the night.

“Please” you finally caved.

“Of course, Lil Skunk. Anything for you.” He batted his eyelashes innocently. Fuck this guy.

You yanked off the costume head before turning around so he could unzip you. Within a couple of seconds, he easily slid the zipper down despite you struggling earlier for what felt like eternity. You let out a sigh of relief as you finally felt the weight of the costume sliding off.

Harrison’s eyes widened as you stepped out of the costume, surprised to see you wearing nothing but a lacy slip and nice lingerie. Before he could comment, you bunched up the costume and turned around to face him.

“Move it, Osterfield!” you barked, shoving the costume in his arms. “Just wait outside with the costume. Now get out so I can finally pee!” you informed him as you pushed him out of the bathroom.

Once you finished your business, you peeked your head out of the bathroom. Some part of you wondered if Harrison took off without a second thought. You wouldn’t put it past him to play a trick on you, especially on such a fitting night. Yet he stood outside the bathroom, peering at you when you opened the door. He smiled, head tilted ever so slightly as he took in your appearance. “Should I call you Lil Teletubby from now on?” he teased.

“Fuck off” you grumbled as you opened the door further to let him in.

He shut the door and locked it before helping you put back on your costume. Your right hand weighed on his bicep as you concentrated on slipping back into the suit. No notice was paid as Harrison eyed your figure. Yanking up the top portion, you shimmied slightly to get comfortable before he zipped you up.

Plopping the head back on, your costume was now complete once more. You waddled out of the bathroom with Harrison, making your way back to the festivities.

“You wanna tell me now or shall I wait for Tom?” he inquired, gently bumping your padded shoulder. You groaned, deciding to just explain what happened. You knew if he asked his best friend, the endless stream of “I’m sorry” texts would follow in suit. No thank you.

“Tom decided to order my costume. Made a mistake and chose teletubby instead of tomb raider. How one does that I have no idea. But he somehow did. So now I’m wearing this” you summarized up the predicament that fell upon you.

“That div” he chuckled. “Well, the costume certainly fits your personality.”

“Go fuck yourself, Osterfield.”

“C’mon. That was a good one. I deserve at least a high five for that.”

“What you deserve a swift kick in the nuts. And you’re definitely making me want to do that.” He laughed, obviously unbothered by your potential threat.

“Y’know, you didn’t have to wear that.” You grunted as he proceeded to gesture to the party goers. “I mean, look around. You could’ve just thrown on a pair of cat ears with your” -he paused, clearing his throat- “uh, outfit underneath your costume. You could’ve called it a day with just that.”

“What’s your point, Lil Shit?”

“I just wanna know why you wore that costume.”

Your brows furrowed as you stopped walking, trying to figure out your answer. Harrison hovered a couple inches away, watching you piece your thoughts together.

“I mean, as much as I’m not a fan of the costume, Emma was right about Tom. He put a lot of effort into trying to help me out” you admitted before giving your best casual shrug. “I dunno. I just don’t wanna feel ungrateful to such a nice guy, even if this definitely is in the top five dumbest things he’s done. Like there’s no way I would’ve been able to come here to a cool place like this if it wasn’t for him. And I mean, hey. There’s always next Halloween, right?”

Harrison leaned over and before you could even process what was happening, he kissed you tenderly on the cheek. “That’s very kind of you, love.” It was the second time he’s called you by that name, catching you by surprise. There was something soft and tender in his voice, making you feel special for the first time tonight.

Your heart raced as you bit down on your lip and you found yourself getting self conscious around him. Your eyes locked with one another and you took in the brightest blue eyes imaginable. Was he always this gentle? His eyes glanced at your lips, now gently parted and slightly glossy. Harrison turned away, rubbing the back of his neck.

That’s when you saw it: Harrison was blushing. The consistently cocky Harrison was getting red in the face. And it was over you? You didn’t even think that was a possibility, especially in your current state.

“See ya” he called out in a gravelly tone as he walked away, still refusing to make eye contact with you.

You watched his figure disappear into the crowd and were left with one question: what the hell just happened?

tag list: @sleepybesson, @butithasntkilledyouyet, @chims-kookies , @choke-me-sweet-pea, @highladyjel, @sleepwalkingdragon, @soccerstud004, @spider-mendes, @thefallenbibliophilequote

part four

#harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x you #haz osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #my writing #fic: not so subtle