#tournaments clear lake

[frost-queen]

The sirens task (Reader x Theodore Nott)

Requested by: anon ,Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Rain tapped gently against the glass. Staining it as drops slowly dripped down. The room silent. Mattheo stood by the window watching his own blurred reflection in the glass. When focusing on the outsides, he saw the black lake. Lorenzo sitting on his bed fidgeting with his fingers. On the bed across from Lorenzo’s laid Theodore down.

Staring mindlessly at the ceiling. Lorenzo glanced at the golden egg positioned on Theodore’s nightstand. The egg that contained the sirens song. A song from deep below the surface. It’s warning clear as day. Theodore would have to venture into the darkest depts of the black lake. To retrieve something stolen from him.

Normally Lorenzo would be the one boost up his confident. To strike his ego with overconfidence that Theodore would win the second trial with his eyes closed. Yet it wasn’t the case. He had no words of confidence. No smugness inside of him to gloat. Nothing. Not even a silly comment to make the boys laugh.

The Triwizard tournament was no joke. It all became clear after the first trial. Theodore barely made it out alive. His dragon vicious and out of control. Burning and scorching the place. It’s fiery breath brewing a warmness in the arena.

The second task awaiting at his door. He felt like going up an endless stairway. Where each step felt like taking him back. Each step a plunge in the darkness, hoping their would be another step. Hoping the stairs would go on before he’d miss a step and fall into nothingness. The sirens song clear in his head. Echoing warningly. He barely made it out alive the first task.

He took a deep breath with a heavy weight on his chest. Mattheo wiped his hand hard across the glass. Spreading out the dew that had formed from the coldness outside trying to creep in their room. His action made Lorenzo look concerned up to him. Mattheo looked daringly at him, daring him to say something about his behavior. Theodore exhaled loud rolling over to his side.

Mattheo and Lorenzo catching it. – “It’s…it’s just another task…” – Lorenzo spoke trying to sooth it. – “In the bloody black lake!” – Mattheo cursed at him. – “Whatever the task is Theo will succeed!” – Lorenzo called out moving his posture up. – “He’ll curse any creature trying to come his way.” – Mattheo laughed mockingly.

Lorenzo’s cheeks bloated with anger, ready to spew his words out. – “Enough.” – Theodore sighed out. The two of them stared, keeping their tongue still. Mattheo moved to his bed, getting under the covers. With one final blow, he blew the candle out, darkening the room.

━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Theodore looked over his shoulder while going up the hill. – “What’s the matter?” – Lorenzo asked curious. – “Nothing…” – Theodore responded looking back forwards. – “I… I just thought to see Y/n… I haven’t seen her all morning.” – he spoke with a deep sigh. – “I’m sure she is already up ahead.” – Mattheo spoke walking at his left. – “You’ll see.” – Mattheo grabbed Theodore by his shoulders, pushing him slightly faster up the hill. – “Good luck Theodore.” – a girl expressed while running past him.

Theodore only provided her with a half hearted smile. The boys in front of them turned around hissing like a snake to show their support. It made Mattheo roll his eyes. Up ahead were Durmstrang boys cheering loudly for Victor. Behind them he could hear girls chatter in French, the beauxbattons. – “Potter stinks!” – a boy shouted as he came running past Lorenzo. Lorenzo laughed loud.

Theodore sighed deep at how ridiculous that was. Up the hill he noticed Professor McGonagall stand by some boats. – “Oh mister Nott.” – she called out, hurrying him over. Theodore broke free from his friends, walking over to her. Harry was already sitting in the boat with Victor and Fleur. – “We’ll see you in a bit.” – Mattheo spoke with a warm hand on his shoulder. – “Knock ‘em dead.” – Lorenzo whispered encouragingly before leaving with Mattheo.

Professor McGonagall gestured at the boat as Theodore got in. He sat himself beside Victor, rubbing his sweaty palms over his knees. – “Nervous?” – Victor chuckled out. – “No.” – Theodore responded hiding his hands. The boat set off on it’s own. Professor McGonagall standing at the shore with a pained expression. As if she knew something. Theodore lifted his head up to try and look over Victor.

Slowly the passing students on shore grew smaller and harder for him to recognize. Yet he still wanted to make sure if he saw you. It was unlike you to not wish him well on his second task. Perhaps Mattheo was right, and you would be waiting at the platform for him. Cheering by their side waiting for him to dive into the water.

The boat came to a slow stop at a platform in the midst of the water. Fleur got taken out first, then Harry, Victor and last him. He immediately noticed Mattheo and Lorenzo amongst the crowd of watchers. Mattheo locked eyes with Theodore shaking his head. Still no sign of you. Theodore sighed lowering his head a bit. Something felt wrong or out of place, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Somehow he felt unlucky without getting a ‘do well’ from you. It was the only thing he was anticipating. Desiring to have. Some good words from you and a kiss against the cheek. That was all he wanted to feel invincible. Now he felt vulnerable and already at defeat. He took his place waiting for the mark to jump in the water. Bang! The shot was fired as Victor and Fleur dived into the water.

“Theo jump!” – Lorenzo shouted seeing how his friend hadn’t moved. Theodore shot awake, diving into the water right before Harry got pushed in. The water clasped around him like a cold shock before settling to warmth. Limbs floating he looked around. Nothing but seaweed and his vision clouded from the water. Theodore started swimming going deeper than he ever thought he would go.

He avoided the seaweed knowing it could strap him. Keep him in place to fail this task. The eerie silence of the lake made him feel tiny. Nothing but endless waters around him. Letting his hand ripple through the water, he could feel the gentle current. Diving deeper between cliffs filled with coral. Looking behind him he saw a school of fish swim with him. Surpassing him with the current’s flow. The water darkening the deeper he got.

He reached an area filled with seaweed he couldn’t go round. The last of the school of fish separating behind him. As if scared to go through. Theodore had no choice but to go through the seaweed. Gently he moved the plants aside feeling the roughness of them. At this point it wasn’t clear which way he needed to go. Furrowing his brows he heard the soft sirens song.

Guiding him like a beacon through the darkness. He swam further through the seaweed keeping a mindful eye behind him. From the corner of his eye he saw something. Causing him to stop briefly and see. Another person swimming through the sea of seaweed with him. Narrowing his eyes he saw that it was Fleur. She looked frantically behind her. Almost as if she was being chased.

She stopped and slowly turned. Then back again as he noticed something among the seaweed. Bubbles escaped Theodore’s mouth when he had opened it in shock. Fleur suddenly being dragged under as a stream of bubbles marked her absence. Hearing sudden noises made him look behind him. Only to be surpassed and knocked over by a siren. She swam so quickly by him it made him roll under water. Her voice screeching loud.

Theodore saw the last of her disappear between the garden of seaweed before the water stilled again. Knowing he was losing time, he started to swim again. Making his way out of the garden of seaweed. Before him in the darkened water emerging a gateway. Unknowingly he saw over to it, not knowing what to expect. He swam through the gateway coming at the ruins of a once lost palace. Sirens left and right watching him carefully.

Theodore’s eyes widened seeing four bodies float in the midst of the ruins. It made him hurry over wondering who they were. The closer he got, the more he recognized. His heart was already feeling it while his brain couldn’t follow yet. Till it finally caught up with him. His eyes wide in horror at the floating people. Amidst them you. Theodore screamed loud, air bubbles leaving his mouth. Moving his hands to the side of his face, he shuddered.

The sirens watched him as he screamed again in agony. His heart bleeding. He quickly swam over to you, holding his hands against your cold cheeks. – “No…no… please…” – he called out feeling an urge of anger. He turned around expression hardened. He pulled out his wand blasting at the ruins out of hatred. – “I’ll kill you!” – he shouted blasting at another ruin that crumbled into pieces. The sirens screeched loud as one came swimming over to him.

Pointing her trident against his throat. – “Stick to the task.” – she called out with a screech. Theodore turned his head seeing Victor swim over to Cho, taking her with him back to the surface. Theodore pushed her trident away swimming back to you. He fired a spell at the seaweed around your ankles, freeing you. Wiping his tears underwater he took a hold of your arm, pulling you up with him.

A small sea creature swam his way. Before it could reach him, had he cast a spell at it. With determination and anger he swam up to the surface. The second his head shot up from out of the water, he gasped loud. You gasped as well awakening from your slumber. Mattheo grabbed the bar with wide eyes. – “Is that Y/n?” – he called out.

Lorenzo joining his side to see for himself. – “Y/n!” – Theodore called out, wrapping his arms around you. You coughed loud wondering why you were in the water. Mattheo and Lorenzo had run down to the lower platform to assist Theodore and you out of the water. You swam with Theodore to the platform.

Mattheo hoisted you up as Lorenzo threw a blanket around you. Theodore got passed a blanket as well. Professor McGonagall approached him as he was more concerned with you. – “Congratulations on second place, Mr. Nott.” – she spoke as Theodore moved his arm around you.

“Piss off!” – he shouted at her, pulling you along with him. Mattheo and Lorenzo shooting her a glare. – “Theo… is the task already over?” – you asked getting led into a corner by him. – “I’m sorry I have missed it.” – you continued. – “Missed it?” – Theodore freaked out. – “Y/n you were the bloody task!” – he outed startling you. You instantly started to cry connecting the dots.

Professor McGonagall asking you over. The boat ride all alone with her, Ron, Hermione, and Cho. Then your mind was blank till you resurfaced with Theodore. He came closer wiping your tears away. – “I want to curse them all for doing this to you. For doing this to me. Y/n when I saw you down there… I lost it. I wanted to kill everyone.” – he confessed.

You jumped at him, pressing your lips against his. Theodore kissed your lips tenderly relieved to have you with him again. – “I’m right here.” – you whispered. – “Now never leave.” – he whispered back before kissing you once more.

----------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

#imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter and the goblet of fire #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #theodore nott x #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fic #imagine theodore nott #victor krum #fleur delacour #harry potter #slytherin #hogwarts #anne with an e #imagine harry potter

[jumbleddufus]

I swear it's always "I love you so much!" but never

"I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world's cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to divide fractions, and no matter how difficult is it to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decide to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform.

I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you next Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if abandon your baticeering and I will love you if you retire from the theatre to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccini and and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer.

I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness of the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written.

I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm wale loves the flavor of naval uniforms.

I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of their parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safe keeping.

I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanism. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery, and as a crow loves murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a falling shingle off a house.

I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp, and as a blimp loves to chase after it.

I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person's back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics, and as a dagger proof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home.

I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as a noise of a glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping out into the world.

I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest policeman. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes that S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of V. I will love you until the bird hates the nest and the worm hates the apple, and until the apple hates the tree and the tree hates the nest, although honestly, I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try.

I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and that long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you as the chances of us running into each other slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by a distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don't see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me, happens to you as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don't marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else—your co-star perhaps, or Y., or even Q. or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I think it will be quite some time before two woman can be allowed to marry—and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned.

That Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way. Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope."

#me realizing that i will never be loved the way lemony loves beatrice #me and who fr #lemony snicket #beatrice baudelaire #the beatrice letters #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #long post #faves #jumbleddufus rambles

[chbnews]

DAILY NEWS 3/26/24

Percy and Nico fight by lake (no clear winner, just play fighting mostly. Small scrapes are worst injuries)

Totally not a Party at cabin 12 tonight

Apollo is banned from camp for 5 months, for various reasons (not just what happened with the cabin 10 camper. This is the best course of action according to Mr D.)

Scavenger hunt hosted by the Satyrs won by Hermes Cabin

Freeze tag won by Ares cabin (Hecate originally won but was disqualified for actually freezing people with ice, Hypnos cabin also disqualified for 1, sleeping on the field as distractions. And 2, putting people Into comas instead of ya know FREEZE TAG)

Cabin 15 hosting charades game tonight at 12

Football tournament won by Hephaestus cabin

Please don’t eat mysterious things you find on the ground (literally anything. (Someone ate a battery earlier)

Thank you for reading 🫶 - Annabeth Chase 🦉

#pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo news #pjo fandom #pjo asks #pjo cabins #pjo spoilers #pjo series #pjo blog #pjo tv show

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (see full series list here)

1993

A man stands in the doorway, leaning on a long staff, hidden away behind the shadow of a black travelling coat. Every head in the Hall turns to him, a great crackle of lightning forking across the enchanted ceiling. The man lowers his hood and shakes out a man of long, grizzled, dark grey hair and makes his way up to your table.

The loud, dull clunk of a wooden leg echoes throughout the silent Hall with every step he takes, and your ears prick with the recognition of that clunk — you've heard that clunk before...many times before.

He makes it to your table, lightning flashing and illuminating the man's face. The skin of his face is scarred and looks rough to the touch. There's a large chunk of his nose missing, his mouth is thin and his lips are cracked. But nothing compares to his eyes — the most unsettling part about him.

One is small, dark, and beady. Dark like the depths of the Black Lake. The other is quite the opposite — as large as a coin, the iris a startling, vivid blue. It's encased within an eye patch, held on by straps of leather. The blue eyes moves without reason, spinning and twirling in its socket without blinking. And though the glass eye makes most look away from squeamishness, you give a little smile. You're well used to that eye by now, that skin, that clunk, that man.

It's the face of your old mentor, Alastor Moody.

Or, as he's more widely known...

Mad-Eye Moody.

Moody sits down at the table, shaking his man of grizzly hair. He pulls a small knife out his pocket, pulls a plate of sausages towards him, and spears one on the end of the knife before eating it.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore says brightly into the stunned silence. "Professor Moody."

Usually, the Hall erupts into applause from both the staff and teachers. However, tonight, it's only you, Dumbledore, and Hagrid that clap. Mad-Eye's not that bad, really, you just have to get used to him. He's a sweetheart!

Okay, that's a total lie.

But you do really just have to get used to his... peculiarities. Everyone'll be well adjusted to him by the end of the year, you're sure.

Moody doesn't seem to care about his unwelcome welcome, instead pulling a flask out of his pocket and taking a swig from it. Well, that's something he's always done — carry his own personal flask to drink out of.

"Constant vigilance!" He'd told you. "You'll never know if what's in front of you has been poisoned or not!"

Dumbledore clears his throat. "As I was saying," he says, smiling out at the crowd of gaping students, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that hasn't been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred Weasley exclaims loudly.

The tension that had been thickening ever since Moody's arrival breaks as nearly everyone bursts into laughter at Fred.

Dumbledore chuckles appreciatively. "I am not joking, Mr Weasley...though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

Minerva clears her throat loudly from beside you.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time...no..." says Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what the tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

Of course, as a member of staff, you've already been well briefed on the tournament and what's involved. You've heard it all before, and as per his instruction, you allow your attention to wander.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You trek down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, clutching a letter addressed to Remus in your hand. You dread having to walk back up all those stairs for your last class of the day in an hour. A few students are milling about the corridors, a few chatting amicably while others complain about the homework they've already gotten on the first day back.

You round a corner, glancing at the oil paintings on the wall next to you. Then, you start to hear the sound of a dull clunk echoing down the hallway, and Moody appears, hobbling towards you. His glass eye is swivelling erratically in its socket, but his good eye isn't looking at you.

"Oh, sir!"

When you were training to be an Auror — which you never got to finish — you always addressed Moody as sir. Never Mad-Eye, never Alastor. And when you were talking about him with somebody else, you always said Moody. His character demands respect and you don't hesitate to give it.

But this is different. Now, you're proper colleagues. It's a bit strange, like adjusting to working alongside Minerva when you first started here. Hopefully you'll adjust to his presence just as easily as Minerva's.

Moody flinches when he hears you call out, head snapping to you, regular eye fixating on you.

You give him a hesitant smile, nodding at him. "It's — uh — it's been a while, sir. It's good to see you again."

Something flashes in his good eye — recognition. His glass eye spins and looks at you, scrutinizing you silently. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up under that interrogating eye.

It's a while before he answers.

"Yes."

"I know this probably isn't the field you expected me to go into — but you know, after everything..." You chuckle awkwardly, shrugging. You immediately curse yourself for that — that chuckle would have instantly gotten you reprimanded during your training.

"It's unconfident!" he'd said. "You're letting your guard down, appearing vulnerable. Do you want your enemies to think you're an easy target?"

But now, Moody doesn't comment on it. He barely even seems to register it.

"Right," he says curtly, before continuing on his way, hobbling down the corridor. You turn and stare after him, mouth agape at his coldness. You thought you had bonded during your time together, that he thought of you as a good student. And you really looked up to him too, you still do. But he disregarded you like it was nothing...like he forgot who you were.

As you stare after him, he pulls his flask out of his pocket and takes a swig from it, grimacing. He glances back over his shoulder and catches you staring. You quickly turn around and continue towards the owlery, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

Reuniting with your old mentor? Check!

Did it go well? Nope!

How embarrassing.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

It's Thursday evening, and you sit in your office, reading Astronomy's Articles. The fireplace crackles in the corner, radiating warmth throughout the room. There's quite an interesting piece here on how old astronomical teachings influenced pop culture, and you're nearly finished it when there's a weak knock at the door. At first you think you might've imagined it, but the knock comes again, slightly louder this time.

You go over to open it, revealing Neville Longbottom, who is currently staring down at his shoes. In his hands, you spot a heavy book. He's shaking.

"Neville, dear, what's wrong?" You ask gently, concern obvious in your voice.

"C — can I please come in?" The poor boy's voice is no louder than a whisper. You nod wordlessly, opening the door further for him to come in and then closing it softly behind him.

"Sit down there, Neville, and a take a deep breath," you say kindly. You grab a jug and fill it with water, placing it on your desk with a glass for him. You pull all your papers out of the way and he sits down.

You sit down at your chair, looking across at him encouragingly. You don't say anything, just wait for him to start himself. While he's quiet, you take a look at the book in his hands, titled: Magical Mediterranean Water-Plants and Their Properties.

"I — I don't want to bother you, Professor."

You shake your head. "Neville, you could never bother me. Please, tell me. What happened?"

He doesn't meet your eyes, hands fiddling with the book.

"I just...Professor, when my parents...when they...did they really go through all that p-pain?" he asks shakily.

You're highly taken aback by this. What is he doing asking something like that? The answer will only hurt him further.

"Oh, Neville, what brings this on?"

He doesn't answer you for a moment, looking down at the cover of his book.

"Professor Moody...he — he showed it to me," he responds quietly, like he's telling a big secret.

"Showed what to you?" You're almost reluctant to hear the answer. Something heavy settles in your stomach sickeningly.

The office is silent as Neville breathes heavily. He fiddles with the book again, bounces his leg. It's like you can hear every blink of his eyes, every individual lash brushing against his under-eye. What would Alice say if she seen him like this? She'd be devastated, no doubt. You're here to look after him. Harry and Neville. Both lost their parents, parents who were your best friends. You could never sit by and watch as their sons sit in turmoil, battling something extremely difficult.

"The Cruciatus Curse," Neville breathes.

You blink in confusion. "I'm sorry, what do you mean he showed you the Cruciatus Curse?"

"O-on a spider," he says quietly. "He-he pointed his wand at it and said — "

"Crucio," you whisper, horrified. "Why would he do that?"

You're confused and shocked and horrified. Moody really did that? In front of the students? In front of Neville? He knows exactly who Neville is, he knows exactly who his parents were and what happened to them.

"He — he said we needed to know. That we n-needed to see it to know how to defend it."

You bring your hands up to your face. You've seen the curse performed before, when you were helping Moody track down a dark wizard who'd taken a Muggle hostage, and nothing about it is pretty. It's scarring — it's the kind of thing that lodges itself in your mind, and the image never weakens. The sounds never fade.

Neville hasn't stopped trembling since he walked in here.

"Neville..." you bite your lip, unsure what to say, so you do the only thing you think you can: you stand up from your chair, and hug him. You pull the frail boy into your arms, gently stroking his hair soothingly. You're conscious of the fact that really, Neville's only maternal figure in his life has been his grandmother who — while being a formidable, strong woman — can't hold a candle to the warmth that Alice had. The heart of gold and love that she had — that she still has, somewhere — for her son. He needs you to provide that warmth and support now.

He pulls away to talk again. "My parents...do you think they suffered...? "

"They did, Neville," you say, pulling away but leaving your hands on his shoulders. "They suffered. I'm afraid I can't tell you any different."

Neville's eyes begin to water and he doesn't meet your eyes.

"But," you continue softly, "they were brave, Neville. They were so brave and strong and stood their ground. Anyone else would have ran, fled with their tails between their legs, but not your parents, Neville. And — the people who hurt your parents? They're all in jail. Rotting away in Azkaban, which is an awful fate. Perfectly deserved for the horrible scum that did that to Alice and Frank."

Neville nods slowly, taking a shaky breath. He sits for a few moments, quiet, as he thinks over what you said. Eventually, you feel confident that he looks a bit less shaken, colour returning to his face. He stands up and you give him a sympathetic smile.

"Would you like to stay here for a little longer?" you ask softly, and he shakes his head.

"No, it's okay...I'll get going now."

You nod, patting his shoulder and moving to open the door for him. "Alright." He exits and you follow, locking the door behind you. When he looks back at you in slight confusion, you say, "I'd like to go have a word with Professor Moody."

Moody's office isn't too far from yours. Neville departs off towards the Gryffindor Tower, the time nearing curfew. You knock on the door, waiting impatiently for the door to open. Eventually, you hear hobbling behind the door and it opens a crack.

"Sir!"

You can only see the blue eye, spinning rapidly in its socket. He looks you up and down, scrutinising you.

"What?"

"Look, I just talked to one of your fourth-year students. Is it true you showed them the Cruciatus Curse? That you performed it on a spider?"

Part of you is scared. This is you, standing up to the best, strongest Auror you've ever met. Your mentor. But at the same time you're filled with anger. How could he do that? How could he put that on Neville, and all those other students who had to bear witness to that torture?

Moody doesn't answer. His tongue darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips for just a second, before receding back. That's something you don't think you've seen Moody do before. No, you've definitely not seen him do that.

But you recognise it. You definitely remember being grossed out before by that exact move. He must've just caught it from someone else, after all, they do call him Mad-Eye. He has been known to be somewhat far-gone.

"I'll admit it was an unorthodox way of teaching, but they needed to see it," he answers curtly. "They need to see in order to know how to defend it and resist!"

You shake your head furiously. "There are other ways to show them how to defend themselves! You can't do that. They're children, sir. They shouldn't be coming out of class half traumatised!"

He pulls the door open more, revealing his cracked face. His good eye stares daggers at you and he moves forward, forcing you to take a step back. He leers over you threateningly.

"Don't question me, girl."

You stare back at him, searching his face for any sliver of a joke, but are met with the hard, steel expression of a man who is certainly not joking. The Moody you know would never say that to you. He would never use that threatening tone with you, no matter what you did. Constructive criticism, yeah, a bit of frustration, yeah, but not this. You've never had to feel scared in his presence.

But you do now.

You're suddenly aware of the fact that this is a strong, strong man in front of you. You would never be able to fight him off. Your lip trembles, and embarrassingly, you feel your eyes start to water.

This was your mentor. This was someone who you looked up to so much, and now he's looking at you like some scummy substance he found on the bottom of his boot. You feel hurt. You feel so badly hurt and embarrassed and scared.

Moody continues to stare you down, before grunting and doing that janky tongue movement and slamming his door shut in your face. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and stare at the closed door in front of you.

What do you do? Should you tell someone? None of the other teachers know about that class, otherwise something would have been said. Minerva would already have been banging on your door to talk about it.

Is it worth your while even reporting it? You doubt anyone would care. It's Alastor Moody, famed Auror. Who would they really rather support: you or him? You don't stand a chance against him.

You return to your office that night feeling sick to your stomach. Worries churn your stomach sickeningly and quiet tears drip down your cheeks. You're just so confused. Why would Moody do that to you? He never expressed any dislike for you before, but there it was obvious. You feel so foolish for allowing yourself to think the Mad-Eye Moody cared about you at all.

You feel lonely. You start to just want Sirius here, next to you, so you can talk to him. He always knows what to do. He always knows what to say. You want him to be here and to take you in his arms, stroke your hair soothingly, reassure you.

You just want him here.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

Spring, 1980

Bright, cheerful chatter fills the area, guests milling about and laughter bubbling up out their throats. Beside you, Sirius has his hand on your knee, circling it idly with his thumb as he chats to James beside him. James tells a joke and Sirius lets out a hearty laugh. You watch his face light up in joy, a beautiful smile spreading over his face.

He's so handsome.

His long locks just tickling his neck, the shirt of his suit unbuttoned to show the skin of his chest, his jacket shrugged off and thrown on the back of the chair. The sunlight catches his long lashes, the outline of his face, making him look like something out of a dream.

You glance around at the guests, thinking about what to do next. You take a quick sip from your wine and lean over to Sirius.

"I'm going to go mingle," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He stops talking, turning to you with a loving expression.

"Don't be too long," he says. "I want my wife back as soon as possible."

He kisses your lips softly, smiling, and you pull away to go mingle.

You make a beeline for Alice and Lily immediately, who are chatting animatedly with Remus and Peter.

"Hello, hello!" You greet with a grin and they all smile.

"Well, if it isn't the beautiful bride!" Alice exclaims with a laugh.

Everyone looks absolutely perfect. Alice and Lily in their pretty bridesmaid dresses, Remus and Peter in their groomsmen suits. It's a small enough reception, you could never invite too many with the way things are right now. There are a few Aurors and Order of the Phoenix members dotted around, some looking about the place like they're expecting an attack.

"Where's Frank gone?" You ask Alice. It's rare to see Alice without her dear husband, her husband of two months now. Even now, you can see the way her face lights up at the mention of him.

"Oh, he's just gone to get us some drinks," she says with a smile, looking past you to see a man standing at the drinks table, plucking two glasses out of the lineup and turning around to come towards you.

You throw him a small wave, and he nods back because his hands are full. Beyond him, you catch sight of a man you didn't actually expect to see tonight: Alastor Moody. He's standing beneath a large tree, shaded from the sun by its foliage. He's looking around him suspiciously, like he's afraid someone's going to spot him.

You place a hand on Alice's back, patting it as you say, "I've just spotted someone. If I don't see you leading a conga line when I get back I'll be livid."

She giggles, saluting you jokingly. "Yes, ma'am."

You smile at the group, taking your leave and heading for Moody. He looks up when you approach, his good eye settling on you while the other dances in its socket.

"Sir, you came," you say with a smile. You really are shocked that he actually showed up. You gave him his invitation ages ago, and hadn't mentioned it since. He said nothing of any intentions to come to the wedding.

He nods, glancing around himself furtively like he doesn't want anyone to catch him here. "Yes, well...I'm here just in case something happens of course... in case you have a few unwelcome guests."

"What, like you?" You joke, and you can see how he tries to hide his chuckle, shaking his head gruffly.

"Dark wizards, more like."

He doesn't seem entirely certain of that, however. You can tell that he's not just here for that, but you don't say anything. You're just happy he's here. Nobody would attack your wedding. Maybe because there's Order members here, but something tells you that won't happen. You have such a happy gut feeling, you feel like you're on air today. Nothing could ruin it.

"Well, thank you for coming," you say genuinely. "I really appreciate it."

He glances away from you, seemingly fixating on something in the distance. "I can't have you getting attacked on your wedding day. It would make for a pretty shitty story."

You smile. "Thanks."

You stand together in silence. You glance out at the rest of the party: Alice is, as you instructed, leading a long conga line on the makeshift dance floor, now bathed in evening sunlight. You spot Sirius right behind her, enthusiastically throwing out his leg in time with Alice. You chuckle appreciatively at them.

"You know," Moody starts, and you turn back to him, "when they told me I'd have to take on a student, I thought they'd be a nuisance, getting in the way of my work. But you, I am...I'm glad it was you, and not some clueless thing who doesn't know their left from their right. You're good at this, and you'll be even better when you're finished with me."

Your mouth opens dumbly and you just stare back at him in surprise, before a great big smile spreads over your face. You don't want to say anything to embarrass yourself, so you just smile at him and he looks away, clearing his throat.

"Once you stop giving me cheek, that is," he adds.

You can't help but laugh, before he fixes you with a look and you straighten up again, pursing your lips, holding back any comments.

"Now, it's time you stop bothering me and go back off to the lovesick lad you've left behind," he says, nodding his head in Sirius' direction, who has detached himself from the conga line to beckon you over with a longing gaze. You smile back at him and don't hesitate to hurry towards the fun.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

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#harry potter #sirius black x you #sirius black #sirius black x reader #angst #the marauders #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #fanfic #hp #marauders #wizarding world

[v1olentdelights]

Everything has changed.

Do you name headcanons? Anyway, I am also going to be naming this one because I want to :) --requested--

Neville would never have imagined he would meet someone else who is like him. You were someone who appreciated the small things in life.

It started as a friendship, really. In your first year, you had been assigned as his table partner in charms class, the one he struggled in the most.

You excelled in it (he would find out later that you were actually quite average, but studied in the library so you could help him more). And things only grew from there.

When the second year rolled around, he was excited to see you again! You had kept in contact over the summer, constantly talking about mundane things. But he looked forward to every letter, as did you.

He was worried for you when the issue of the chamber of secrets circulated through the student population.

You both would spend some extra time together. Studying or lounging in the quart yard.

----

In his 3rd year, he struggled a lot. Things with his parents had taken a toll on him. He was beginning to realize that they wouldn’t be returning to a normal state.

He had asked you to meet him in the astronomy tower one night. It wasn’t something he had ever done before. Of course you had spent evenings together, he would sit next to you at dinner. And he would walk you to your common room, bidding you goodnight.

----

When you found him up there, his feet were dangling off the edge. It was then that you knew something was really wrong. Neville didn’t like standing on the edge of the balcony to use the telescope, and now he was hanging his feet off the edge?

“Nev, are you okay?” Your voice was soft and caring. It made him want to cry even more. When he looked back at you, he saw the concern written all over your face.

“I-“ his voice gave out, quickly wiping his tears and clear his throat he tried again. “I need to talk to you about something, please.”

“Of course! What can I do?” Making your way over to him, you grabbed his hand and pulled it in your lap.

“My parents. They have been in St. Mungo’s for the past 11 years. And they haven’t gotten any better.” He began to tremble at the thought of his parents.

“I don’t know what to say, Nev. I’m sorry, it is not enough, but that’s all I can think to say. I’m. here for you.” Gripping his hand a bit tighter, you pulled him into you. His head rested on your shoulder as he began to sob.

“I don’t know what to do without them. I thought they would get better. I thought I’d have parents again.” It was hard to catch most of what he was saying through his cries and hoarse voice.

“They will always be your parents. You have to know that. And they will always be there for you.” It was something you couldn’t stress enough.

It was then that Neville understood you were no ordinary friend. You were something special.

----

By the 4th year, things began to change. You wouldn’t meet his eyes as much anymore, He got panicky at the thought of being alone with you.

There had even been a few times where you caught yourself writing your first name next to his last. But you quickly throw the journal into the bottom drawer of the desk in your room.

Despite the anxious feeling you had at the thought of being around Neville, you often spent time with him by the lake. He had been trying to find some kind of water plant…

You were sure he had told you about it at some point, but you weren’t focused on the words he was saying.

At some point, Harry Potter decided to join you both. He said he wasn’t speaking to Hermione and wasn’t on good terms with Ron.

Of course, both you and Neville invited him to join you. But it actually made Neville feel something. A sick but upset feeling in his stomach.

You began to talk to Harry about quidditch and the tournament trials. You found yourself actually enjoying the conversation simply because the great and mighty chosen one was really just a simple 15 year old who had a somewhat normal life.

But that meant you weren’t talking to Neville about the book you were reading. And you weren’t telling him about how you wanted to travel the world, alongside Neville, before settling down.

Neville would never admit to it, but in this moment, he was jealous of Harry Potter. Not because he was the focus of everyone, not because he was the hero, and especially not because he had defeated Voldemort, (well half of him?) at the age of 11. No, he was jealous of Harry Potter because he had your attention.

Soon, dance lessons began. Most people thought it was hilarious and made a joke of it. But not you, in fact you enjoyed it. Thankfully, you were partnered up with a girl friend, there was no awkwardness of a boy. Yet.

Neville had practiced and practiced. He even devoted extra time he would have spent helping some of the first years with homework to practicing a waltz he knew you were particularly fond of.

----

However, something happened. Well, he only witnessed the first half of it, but he could feel that sickening feeling of jealousy burn again…

Harry Potter had sent a paper butterfly fluttering towards you. Inside was the question Nev had dreaded.

Would you do me the great honor of going to the Yule Ball with me? Meet me out in the viaduct courtyard after class.

You blushed at the thought that someone had asked you to the ball. But your thoughts were interrupted by Neville quickly excusing himself and rushing out of the hall.

Thankfully, the study period and the school day ended soon after. You found Harry waiting for you by the stairs.

“So, what do you think?” He was smiling brightly and holding a hand out for you as you took a rather large step down onto the bridge to the courtyard.

“Harry, I am honored that you asked me, trust me. Getting asked to the ball is something I never thought would happen.” As you turned to him you could see a small smile.

“But…” With a light chuckle, you nudged him in the shoulder.

“But I am actually hoping someone else will ask me. Don’t take it the wrong way, I just… I really like this boy, and I think he likes me as well, and I really really want to go with him.” Your face felt warm again at the thought of going to the ball with Neville.

“Well why don’t you ask this mysterious person?” He nudged you back. “Actually part of the reason I asked you is to possibly push either of you to ask the other out. Come on. It is obvious that you love each other.” Your jaw dropped.

“You asked me, knowing I would say no? Did you just use my rejection against me?!” You found it hilarious, but also there was a small, very small part of you that was hurt that he would do such a thing.

“Yes, I mean if you had accepted it, I would totally have taken you to the ball. But I knew you would say no.” Both of you stopped outside the entrance to the central hall. He now looked at you straight on with a serious-ish face. “Now go get your lover boy.”

Later that evening, you found him sitting in the herbology wing. He sat by the pond watching the fish swim around. They had no problems, no worries about asking someone to the ball, and Neville envied that.

“Neville?” You had finally found him. You had also cursed the founders for making the school so big that you scoured the entire school for him. “Nev, can we talk?”

He simply gestured for you to sit next to him on the bench.

“Did you leave because of Harry?” The huff he let out was an answer of its own.

“Maybe. Why does it matter? Did you just come here to gossip about it?” He almost sounded mad.

“No.” It came out defensively. “Why would I do that? I came to let you know that I turned down his offer.”

“Why would you do that? He is the perfect stand-up boy.” Why was he acting like this? Your sweet Neville.

“Because I want you to ask me. I’ve been waiting, I thought you felt the same way. I must have read the signs wrong.” You got up and began to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“You didn’t. You didn’t read the signs wrong. I just didn’t know if you wanted to go with me. I had this whole plan for this evening, and then he asked you, and I thought you would just go with him.” He slipped his hand into yours, slotting your fingers together.

----

That is what led you to this moment. All the dancing at the ball, it made you feel like royalty, like you were the most beautiful person in the room. After quite some time of jumping around and dancing, you and Neville escaped to a balcony.

He spun you once on your way out. You let out a little laugh, a sound he wished he could bottle up and listen to over and over again.

Then it all came crashing in. Everything had changed. You were more than friends, something you couldn’t quite place yet.

It could only be described as a moment from a muggle movie. He brought his hand up to your cheek, his thumb ever so gently brushing against your face. As he looked all over your face, they finally landed on your eyes.

“All I know since yesterday is everything has changed” a moment of silence before he was leaning in.

And you realized that you were completely okay with this new change.

#grace writes #neville fluff #neville longbotton x reader #harry potter #neville x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #neville blurb #neville imagine #neville longbottom thoughts #neville headcanon #neville longbottom headcanon

[fatehbaz]

The Clear Lake hitch (Lavinia exilicauda chi) is a rare endemic species of minnow living only in the Clear Lake watershed of northern California, a fish that was once a “symbol of abundance” for Indigenous people. In December 2022, the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians, Robinson Rancheria Band of Pomo Indians, Scotts Valley Band of Pomo Indians and the Habematolel Pomo of Upper Lake ask for immediate emergency protection of the hitch. The fish is in danger of extinction as the last observed successful breeding for the species was in 2017, and the creatures only have a six-year-long lifespan. US land management agencies say hitch numbers have “fallen to near zero.” However, in the past, there were millions of hitch in the watershed each year, and the fish was important to Indigenous food systems. Local “entrepreneurs” prefer to protect the introduced non-native bass, which voraciously preys on the endangered hitch. Clear Lake hosts dozens of bass tournaments each year, events large enough to attract international visitors. There is a past-time tradition (”hitching”) of children beating the hitch to death with baseball bats in the springtime as the hitch gather in streams to try to spawn. The hitch is also threatened by pesticides, runoff, and overuse of water for the region’s prominent local vineyards. The hitch is referred to as a “trash fish,” and some feel that this insults the importance of the fish to Pomo people.

Excerpts below from: Louis Sahagun of Los Angeles Times. “As a sacred minnow nears extinction, Native Americans of Clear Lake call for bold plan.” As published at Phys.org. 6 December 2022.

---

Spring runs of a large minnow numbering in the millions have nourished Pomo Indians since they first made their home alongside Northern California’s Clear Lake more than 400 generations ago. The Clear Lake hitch glinted like silver dollars as they headed up the lake’s tributaries to spawn, a reliable squirming crop of plenty, steeped in history [...].

In all that time, the hitch’s domain, about 110 miles northwest of Sacramento, had never suffered the degradation of recent years.

Now, with a growing sense of sorrow, if not anger, the Pomo Indian tribes of Clear Lake are watching the symbol of abundance and security they call chi dwindle into extinction.

---

On Monday [December 2022], they took the rare and drastic step of urging Interior Secretary Deb Haaland to use her emergency powers and invoke the federal Endangered Species Act on behalf of the Clear Lake hitch. “Bringing the chi back will require a bold plan of action devised by people with the power to move mountains,” said Ron Montez, tribal historic preservation officer for the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians. 

“I have almost zero confidence in state or federal officials to save the chi and our way of life,” Montez, 72, said. [...]

The Clear Lake hitch was designated as a threatened species under California’s Endangered Species Act in 2014. Since then, however, its numbers have fallen to near zero, according to recent surveys. 

Some causes of the hitch’s decline, however, seem extraordinarily difficult to fix: prolonged drought, mercury contamination, gravel mining, an overtaxed water distribution system, pesticides and runoff from vineyards [...], and predatory nonnative game fish. [...]

---

The 2023 spring spawning season is crucial for the continued survival of the Clear Lake hitch, scientists say. That’s because the last observed successful spawning was in 2017. “Hitch have a six-year life span,” said Meg Townsend, an attorney with the Center for Biological Diversity. [...]

---

But until its fate is known for certain, Michael Fris, a field supervisor at the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, said his agency is unlikely to list the hitch on an emergency basis. [...] That kind of talk prompted the Center for Biological Diversity, together with the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians, Robinson Rancheria Band of Pomo Indians, Scotts Valley Band of Pomo Indians and the Habematolel Pomo of Upper Lake to take their request for emergency listing to Haaland.

All involved agree that seeking intervention under the federal Endangered Species Act is an act of desperation. Only two species have been emergency-listed as federally endangered over the last 20 years: the Miami blue butterfly in 2011 and Nevada’s Dixie Valley toad earlier this year. [...]

---

The hitch is a 12-inch-long minnow found only in and around the oldest, largest and perhaps most polluted and wildfire-prone watershed in California. In 2020, the Lake County region was charred by six of the 20 largest wildfires in state history. [...]

It’s been the poor luck of the hitch to require adequate stream flows in February, March and April to trek from the lake to spawning beds at the same time agricultural interests need water to defrost their vineyards.

---

“An emergency listing would force people to consider alternatives to the way water is used in this region,” said Sarah Ryan, environmental director for the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians.

Beyond water flows, the prospect of emergency-listing the hitch raises other economically significant issues connected to the lake’s food chain: Zooplankton are eaten by shad, crayfish and hitch, which are favored by monster catfish and largemouth bass.

Clear Lake entrepreneurs host dozens of professional bass tournaments each year that are supported by contestants from around the world.

The most popular lures in local tackle shops are hitch replicas that cost up to $180 each. Other lures are made to resemble juvenile hitch and sold under a slogan that some people feel mocks the creature’s cultural importance to Pomo people: “The All-American Trash Fish.”

Over at [C.O.], a sporting goods store on the southern end of the lake, old-timers still talk about how local kids had a tradition of “hitching,” beating hitch to death with baseball bats for fun as they ascended streams to spawn in spring. 

They also grumble over the thought of new special protections for a nongame fish disrupting human pastimes for any reason [...].

"The reason our bass grow so big is that they love to eat hitch," mused [D.B.], owner of [C.O.]. "So, when customers ask me, 'Where can I catch the biggest bass of my life?' " he added, "I send them to places hitch hang out in."

---

That kind of banter and lore suggests that unless government agencies yield to Native American concerns, they are headed for a showdown of complicated and competing values.

“The way some people ridicule hitch makes me wonder what they think about the folks who eat them,” lamented Robert Geary, cultural resources director for the Habematolel Pomo of Upper Lake. [...]

---

At the heart of the matter is that Pomo people [...] did not consider their native attitudes and lifestyles to be an expendable price of living in America.

Yet, their modern history is told mostly through economic hardship, rip-offs, massacres and environmental destruction.

---

Headline, image, caption, and text by: Louis Sahagun of Los Angeles Times. “As a sacred minnow nears extinction, Native Americans of Clear Lake call for bold plan.” As published at Phys.org. 6 December 2022. [First paragraph in this post added by me.]

[fortheloveof-sebastian]

The One Who Has My Heart

Pairings: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: The second task of the Triwizard Tournament is to recover what’s been taken from you…little do you know just how true that is.

Warnings: potential kidnapping?, kissing, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This request is for @scarydeadlavender Thank you for the prompt, I hope you enjoy it😁

Currently, you’re standing on a platform that’s been erected out of the lake. A few hundred feet below you, the surface of the lake roiled, dark and murky; it made sense why it had earned the nickname of the Black Lake. It wasn’t too difficult to imagine terrifying creatures dwelling within the unpredictable waters.

If the other two champions — a broad shouldered boy from Durmstrang and a wispy, waif-like girl from Beaxbatons — were nervous about this task, this didn’t show it. In fact, they stood on two adjacent platforms, leaning forward with intent.

Your eyes scan the crowd nervously.

Still no Sebastian. You can’t help but feel disappointed by his apparent absence. Where else could he be? He even told you the night before that he would be ready to congratulate you on another win, considering that he had been in detention during the first task. You had tried to assuage his guilt on missing out by insisting that it didn’t matter — and it didn’t, not really — but it had lifted your spirits to think that he might be watching today.

“ — have precisely an hour to recover what’s been taken from them.”

A whistle blows, and the other two champions waste no time diving into the water. You shake your heads, dislodging your worries of Sebastian. A roar of impatience and disbelief assails you from the Hogwarts student section, shouting at you to go and launching you into movement.

You take a deep breath and swan dive into the lake, the icy water engulfing you. The shock nearly immobiles you, until you open your eyes and notice the two other champions are already swimming away, leaving behind a trail of bubbles in their wake.

“I’m here.”

You turn, relieved. Staring back at you is a mermaid, more otherworldly than human, with hair that flows and waves in the current like the tangled black seaweed below you.

The mermaid encircles her arms around your neck and latches a necklace there. Instantly, the pressure of holding your breath releases, and the water clears significantly. The necklace granted you breathing and visibility abilities beneath the water, a special relic that the mermaid swore to bring to you — thanks to Ominis, of course.

Sebastian told you in confidence that his fellow Slytherin had struck up a friendship with one of the fishy beasts, and upon hearing about your latest task, you knew that it would be a great help. Ominis was incensed, understandably, that Sebastian had given away another one of his closely guarded secrets but eventually conceded. After all, he wanted Hogwarts to win the Triwizard Tournament as bad as anyone.

You and Ominis struck a deal with the mermaid, after Ominis vaguely declared that she owed him a favor.

Part of you didn’t believe she would come, most likely because you didn’t trust this mermaid. Her name was Kaya, and she had taken an instant liking to Sebastian as soon as she saw him. Too much of a liking for your taste.

“They said that I needed to recover what’s been taken from me,” you tell Kaya, recalling the only instruction you managed to catch.

The mermaid smiles knowingly. Or else, you think that she’s smiling. Her mouth, lined with razor sharp teeth, looks more cunning then helpful. “And what are you missing, human?”

You rack your brain. Was this task metaphorical? Did they secretly steal away with something from your dorm in the middle of the night?

Then, it strikes you — Sebastian. Sebastian was missing.

Your heart pounds. You knew he wouldn’t have missed for just any reason! But that means that he was here somewhere, in the lake.

“Sebastian,” you say aloud. “Where is he?”

“He’s safe,” the mermaid says.

You narrow your eyes. “Where. Is. He.”

“I helped you with your task,” the mermaid hauntily replies. “So I’ve just taken my payment.”

“If recovering Sebastian is my task, and you’ve taken him, then you have not helped me!” You shout. Red hot anger shoots through you. “You can’t do this. Bring me to Sebastian. Now.”

“Mr. Gaunt said that I only had to give you the mermaid relic,” Kaya says.

Your hands form into fists. “He also said that you have to help me win.” Resisting the urge to throttle the mermaid, you demand, “You have to take me to Sebastian or else your debt with Ominis — er, Mr. Gaunt — will not be repaid.”

Fae can not be trusted, you remember from your studies. But they also take favors and debts seriously, which you hope is enough to convince this magical creature to listen.

The mermaid studies you for a moment, and it’s as if you can feel your alotted time to complete the task slipping away. Finally, she sighs. “Fine, follow me. But keep up. I won’t go back for you.”

Easier said than done. It’s a battle to keep up with her — although she might’ve alleviated your need to breath air and your poor human vision, you aren’t nearly as fast as her. Her fishlike body cuts effortlessly through the seaweed, churning up sand and rocks in your face as you scramble after her. Fortunately for you, her supposed hiding place isn’t far from where you had dived into the lake from the platforms.

The mermaid points inside the mouth of an underwater cave. “He’s in there.”

You don’t have time to debate whether or not she’s telling the truth. At this point, your concern isn’t about the tournament but whether Sebastian is safe. Forcing your way into the cave, you navigate through the pitch darkness for a few feet before remembering that you have your wand. “Lumos,” you whisper.

Light illuminates your surroundings.

And there, at the end of the narrow tunnel, lays Sebastian. His eyes are closed, and if it wasn’t for the seaweed binding him, you would’ve assumed he was just asleep.

Frantically you dart forward and grab him.

“Depulso!” The spell propels you out of the cave. You cling to Sebastian, his body limply bumping next to yours as you swim for the surface.

The mermaid is nowhere to be found, but you prefer it that way. Cupping your hands, you fight your way to the surface, kicking your legs as fast as you can. Your muscles scream at you but you don’t stop until your bursting above the water, greeted by a chorus of cheers.

Durmstrung has already made it back.

You’re rescued by two older wizards who use their wands to carry you back up onto the platforms. Only then does Sebastian snap out of whatever trance he’s in — sputtering and heaving as he coughs up lake water.

“What’s going on?” He asks weakly.

Quickly you cut him free from his seaweed binding, and help him into a sitting position.

“How much do you know?”

Sebastian shakes his head, the motion sending out droplets of water onto your robes. His lashes are wet also, spiky, beads of water collecting on the ends and somehow, despite having literally just been dragged up from the bottom of a lake, he looks infuriatingly handsome.

“I—not much.” He frowns. “I remember leaving the common room and then…nothing.”

You quickly fill him in: about the task, the mermaid, and his temporary kidnapping. He listens attentively, his features morphing from confusion to shock, and then back to confusion.

“She kidnapped me?” He echoes. Sebastian leans back on his hands. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame her. I am rather good looking.”

You scowl at him. “I should’ve left you for mermaid chow.”

“But wait, if I was unconscious, then that means that I missed another one of your tasks,” he says, straightening. A look of guilt passes over his face.

“It’s not like you could really help it,” you say empathetically. “If you think about it, you’ve been kidnapped twice within the last twenty four hours. I suppose I can forgive you.”

He clasps your hand. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Sebastian, you really don’t have to —”

“And Durmstrang wins the second task!” The announcer booms. “One task Hogwarts, one task Durmstrang. Join us for the last task for the tiebreaker!”

Later that evening, you get an owl from Sebastian requesting your presence. You’ve been trying not to pity yourself for losing the task today, although it’s hard not to when your fellow Hogwarts students cast you accusatory glares. There’s no way you can refuse Sebastian, though — the cheeky bugger — so you heave yourself from beneath your covers and get dressed.

The Slytherin common room is mostly empty, besides a few students who are studying. You traipse inside uncertainly; Sebastian gave you little instructions, just to meet.

“Sebastian?” You call out.

Avoiding the pointed glares from a few of the students, you round one of the magnificent columns and spot a familiar backside. Sebastian’s turned away from you but whirls to face you when he senses your presence. Delight breaks out on his face.

He hastily fills the space between you in two long strides, then sweeps you into a passionate embrace. When his lips find yours, you’re taken aback by his fervent display of affection — it’s as if you’ve been apart for a dreadfully long time, and he can’t wait to reunite. You melt into the kiss. Sebastian’s hands slip behind your neck and around your waist, pulling you close. You’re busy relishing the moment when you suddenly hear the telltale sound of water being splashed.

You pull away from Sebastian just in time to see a large fin swish away from the view of the window looking out into the lake.

“Was that—?”

“Maybe,” Sebastian says, grinning.

“Sebastian,” you scold him. The matching grin that unfurls on your face negates the scalding nature of your tone. “That’s so impolite.”

“What? I think it’s a fitting punishment for a potential kidnapper,” he says defensively.

“Are you going to kiss me in front of the entire Triwizard board then, too?”

Sebastian’s grin widens. “Only if you insist.”

“I can’t believe you,” you say, laughing in disbelief but allowing him to ensnare you in another toe curling kiss anyway.

He punctuates the kiss with several smaller ones, peppering them from the corners of your mouth to the top of your noise. “Why not? I can’t just go around letting psychotic, kidnapping mermaids think they have a chance with me. Everyone needs to know who really has my heart.”

#fanfic #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #harry potter #fluff #sebastian sallow x reader #triwizard tournament #HARRY DID YOU PUT YOUR NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE #mermaids

[unofficial-writing]

She calls me Freddie (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Warnings: None really, fluff and a little banter, implications that your normal hair color isn’t red (sorry to my beautiful redheads)

Summary: The Tri-wizard tournament is announced and entering doesn’t go to plan

Word count: 4.9k

(Part 2 - Find all other parts here!)

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The next week turned out to be pretty uneventful for you. After you all recovered from what happened at the game you started to use quidditch as your pastime. You, Harry, Ron, the twins, Ginny, and even Hermione practiced behind the burrow. Ginny had begun to take an interest in being a chaser so you showed her just about everything you know, having been one for the Gryffindor team for most of your years at Hogwarts. You played most days leading up to school and on the following Thursday you all traveled to the station in London.

“Did he find a compartment?” You asked George, who you were following through the train. Your luggage was already loaded, leaving you to carry your wand and one of your smaller bags.

“Fred said he found an empty one up here,” He started, peering into each compartment as he passed, looking for his brother. The boy stopped abruptly once he spotted him, which made you trip over his feet. “Aha.” He let out casually, as if he didn’t just have to save you from face-planting.

“Finally. I didn’t know how much longer I could fight of these kids.” Fred complained as you stepped into the little room. He sat by the window with Ginny across from him, who rolled her eyes at her brother.

“It was one first year. And the kid looked terrified.” Ginny told you and George while you hoisted your bag onto the rack above the seats. You gave Fred a look.

“Fred, you did not chase away a first year!”

“Oh no, he didn’t.” Ginny defended him. “He actually offered for him to sit with us but the poor kid ran off.”

George broke into laughter and Fred sighed, crossing his arms. You sat down beside him, fitting yourself into the space between him and the window. It was small enough that he had to scoot over so you wouldn’t be in his lap, which he did so without question.

You patted his knee to comfort him. “We can’t all be good with kids, babe.” You told him casually. The other two Weasleys glanced at you when you said this, but neither you nor Fred treated it any differently so they moved on.

“It was probably just the kid’s first day and he didn’t want to sit with a sixth year he didn’t know.” George stated, sitting down once he put his couple of bags up. Fred just shook his head and moved on.

The rest of the train ride went by quickly, spent with carefree talk and conversations about nothing important. Soon the clear skies of the morning began to turn grey and by the time you arrived at Hogwarts, the clouds were much darker and threatened to drop rain on the school.

Still dry for now, you entered the courtyard in awe of the castle as always. It was now your sixth year here and you were still taken by the school. Raindrops finally began to fall, so you stepped under the covered walkway.

Fred tugged your sleeve to get your attention and when you looked up at him, his eyes were looking out onto the lake. “What is it?” You asked him, stepping toward the stone opening to see better. Out on the water, a huge ship sprouted up f on the lake, water draining from it as it lifted above the surface.

“I’ve never seen that before.” You admitted. Ginny hurried beside you to get a look as well, but gasps from the other students drew you to the opposite side of the walkway. There you caught sight of a huge carriage coming in from above, drawn by several winged horses.

“Who do you suppose they are?” Ginny asked as they landed, guided in by Hagrid. They ducked just out of view as they touched the ground.

“I imagine we won’t have to wait long find out.” You said, turning from the spot where they disappeared to see the students flowing into the castle. Everyone filed into the great hall to find a seat. You sat down beside Angelina Johnson, who gave you a huge smile upon seeing you.

“Angie!” You exclaimed, giving her a tight hug. Fred sat down beside you and George across. He gave Angelina an almost timid smile.

“Hey, Angelina.” George greeted. You’d rarely seen George look so nervous. Angelina, of course, gave her smile out to him and asked about his summer, which got them talking less awkwardly. You and Fred exchanged a look, sharing the exact same thought.

The room filled with laughing and cheering as friends were reunited for the year, Gryffindor being the loudest as usual. By the time Dumbledore stepped up to his podium, your stomach ached from laughter. It took his loud voice to silence the hall and once the noise had subsided, he started his beginning of the year speech.

“Now that we’re all settled and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement.” He addressed the students. Fred twirled a piece of your hair to distract you and earned an elbow to the arm, which didn’t stop him. “This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Tri-wizard tournament.”

You had heard of it before but you hadn’t been to Hogwarts long enough to see one take place. And certainly not to see one take place here.

“Now for those of you who do not know, The Tri-wizard tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. For each school a single student is selected to compete.” Dumbledore continued to explain. This had everyone paying attention, as most of your group especially was interested. You leaned an arm onto the table.

“But let me be clear.” The professor paused briefly to scan the room. “If chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint-hearted.” He said ominously and then suddenly flipped a switch and took on a light-hearted expression.

“But more of that later,” he continued. “For now please welcome the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons school of magic!” On cue the doors opened on the opposite side of the hall, having everyone’s head suddenly turn in that direction.

In came a group of girls mostly a little older than you, all in matching blue uniforms with their hair tied neatly behind their backs. They strode through the room elegantly catching nearly every eye, especially from the boys. “Bloody hell.” Ron said. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Behind the girls came an extremely tall woman, probably even taller than Hagrid. “Blimey, that’s one big woman.” Seamus Finnigan said, a few seats down from you. Dumbledore had to reach up to take her arm, guiding her to her seat. The entire hall whistled and applauded except for Hermione, who was mad at Ron, and Ginny, who didn’t care. Dumbledore cut them off.

“Now our friends from the North.” He continued. “Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their headmaster Igor Karkaroff.” In came a group of men also around a year older. They were all tall and handsome. Their entrance turned the table and now Ron was huffing at Hermione.

After the students, the headmaster entered with a tall boy at his side. It was Viktor Krum, the quidditch player from the World Cup.

“Blimey it’s him,” Ron said, startled. “It’s Viktor Krum.” He walked through the hall staring at the other hand, not bothering to greet anyone. You weren’t impressed by him. Dumbledore greeted their headmaster warmly, bringing him into a welcoming embrace.

Once everyone was seated and settled, the feast began. Each table was filled with every food imaginable and everyone was happy with what they ate. After the majority of the room was finished, four men entered the hall, rolling with them a large pillar decorated with gold and jewels. It was parked at the end of the room, right in front of the professor’s table.

Dumbledore stood again, making his way over to the pillar. “I’d like to say a few words.” He announced, quieting the room again. “Eternal glory. That is what awaits the student who wins the Tri-wizard tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks.”

“Wicked.” You heard the twins say in unison. Fred nudged you with his elbow, bringing a little smirk to your face.

“For this reason, the ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule.” The professor continued. “To explain all this, we have the head of the department of international magical cooperations, Mr. Bartemius Crouch.”

The man stood, making his way over to the podium. But he and everyone else were interrupted by the sudden sound of thunder clapping in the hall, rain and lightning following swiftly. Students shrieked, ducking for cover from the sudden chaos. From one of the side doors, a tall man stepped into the room and pointed his wand toward the ceiling, fixing the mess.

After the rain had gone everyone sat up again, looking around in confusion. The man that had entered was tall and widely built. He had a limp in his stride as he walked. “Hey that’s Mad-eye Moody,” Ron announced.

“Alastor Moody? The Auror?” Hermione inquired. Ron leaned down and whispered something to Harry, which was low enough that you couldn’t hear.

“My dear old friend, thanks for coming.” Dumbledore welcomed him, shaking his hand.

“Stupid ceiling.” Moody replied gruffly. Dumbledore nodded and gestured to a seat at the professor’s table, sending him in that direction. After the room had settled again, Barty Crouch finally made it to the front, standing in front of the gold pillar.

He paused, hesitating briefly before speaking as if it was something difficult for him to say. It was definitely something difficult for you to hear. “After due consideration, the ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen should be allowed to put forth their name for the Tri-wizard tournament. This decision is final.” Your face dropped in disappointment and the students erupted into shouts of protest, the twins being the loudest.

“That’s rubbish!” They shouted. The hall fell into chaos once more until Dumbledore saved it again.

“Silence!” He yelled, immediately quieting the school. The professor stepped forward toward the pillar. His hand glided over it, causing it to melt away in front of you. The outer shell of gold gave way to a large stone goblet, a blue flame igniting in the cup.

“The goblet of fire.” He explained. “Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly. If chosen, there’s no turning back. As of this moment, the Tri-wizard tournament has begun.”

You glanced at Fred and George, who held an excited expression as if they weren’t just told they couldn’t enter. If you knew them, which you did, they would likely come up with an absurd plan to try and enter anyway. You would just have to wait until they brought it to you.

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A few days later, you were absolutely correct in your suspicions. You were in the library, picking up a few books when the twins approached you. “Y/n,” Fred said in a singsongy voice, sliding next to you. George came on your other side.

“What is it, boys?” You asked, setting your books down on the table and turning to lean back onto it. They both looked at each other as if trying to decide who should answer. “Well, spit it out.”

“We have a plan to enter the tournament.” George started, you gave a loud sigh. “And before you say anything, we’ve thought it through completely. It’s going to work.”

“You did, did you?” You responded sarcastically, glancing down at the books you were carrying.

“We did,” Fred returned, ignoring your remark. “But, it requires you.” He held up a finger and pointed to you. You chuckled, crossing your arms.

“Uh-huh. And what does this plan require me to do?” You asked with a tiny smirk.

“We need you to brew an aging potion,” Fred explained, setting a hand down on the table to lean closer to you. “You’re much better at potions than us and we have to make sure it’s going to work correctly.”

You sighed. “It’s not.”

“What, why not?” George asked. “We could probably manage it so you definitely can.”

“Oh no, not the potion. That will work exactly how I make it to. But your plan won’t work.”

“And why is that, Y/n.” Fred asked, the look on his face put a longing feeling in your body.

“You really think that the ministry— Dumbledore for that matter would be thick enough to not think of an aging potion?”

“That’s what we’re counting on.” George stated, making you sigh even louder.

“Ok, let’s say hypothetically this does work.” You said, sitting on the table. “Have you considered at all that competing in the tournament might not be the best idea?”

“Nope” they said together.

“But we’re not worried about it.” Fred added. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh I don’t know, you could die?” You told them, setting a hand on the side of their heads. “And unfortunately I would miss you both dearly if you died.” You finished in an exaggerated pouty voice.

“When did you get all responsible?” George asked, “You were just as excited as we were to enter.”

“That was before I read about the tasks from the last tournaments.” You stated. “And I don’t want to risk losing my favorite redheads.”

“Well. That’s very sweet and all but we still need you to make that potion.” Fred told you.

You sighed once more to get your point across. “Fine.” They immediately grinned and gave each other a high five. “But when this blows up in your face, it’s not my fault.”

“You’re the best, love.” Fred spoke, giving you a sudden kiss on the cheek before taking off with his brother through the bookshelves, leaving you sitting there frozen. You watched them round the corner, your fingertips brushing your cheek. God, Fred Weasley was going to be the death of you.

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You met them with their potion outside the great hall the next day. “Here,” You handed them two little viles. “This is your last chance to stop and save yourselves the embarrassment.”

“Yeah not a chance, babe.” Fred said, taking them from you and handing one to George.

“Alright, fine.” You said, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Just remember, this is your own doing.”

“We’ll try,” George told you. The twins ran into the hall cheering, you following a little ways behind. There was a little crowd gathered around the goblet of fire and they all applauded as Fred and George made their entrance.

“Well lads, we’ve done it!” Fred announced, jumping up onto the wood bleachers and holding up his potion.

“Y/n cooked it up just this morning.” George explained further, following his brother. Hermione, who sat a feet away, turned her head from her book and laughed.

“It’s not going to work.” She sang in a mocking voice. The twins sat down on either side of her.

“Oh yeah?” Fred started.

“And why is that, Granger?” George finished. Hermione pointed out a hazy white line around the cup.

“See this?” She told them. “This is an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself.”

“So?”

“So,” Hermione slammed her book shut as if it was outrageous that they didn’t seem concerned. “A genius like Dumbledore couldn’t possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dim-witted as an aging potion.”

“Ah but that’s why it’s so brilliant.” Fred stated.

“Because it’s so pathetically dim-witted.” His brother finished for him. The twins stood again while Hermione rolled her eyes. You took their spot, sitting down next to her.

“Ready Fred?”

“Ready George,” They both popped their viles open.

“Bottoms up.” They said together and drank the contents. Once the potion was consumed, they jumped into the circle beyond the age line.

“Why did you make them that?” Hermione asked, awaiting being able to say she was right. You sighed.

“I tried to tell them it wouldn’t work.” You replied, chuckling. “But you know them. They have to learn the hard way.” And they did. Fred and George tossed their names into the fire, pausing to see what would happen. Nothing did at first so they cheered. Fred shot you a smug look which made you shake your head.

Their success was quickly shot down by the fire spitting their names back out, shooting little flames around the room. The crowd ducked out of the way and the twins were send backward and onto the stone floor. You stood to get a better look over the students but all you could see were grey hair and beards sprouting from their heads.

You broke into laughter as they started fighting, cursing at each other. You were absolutely going to give them an earful after they recovered.

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It took them a couple of hours before they were back to normal and they still had some grey left in amongst the red. Now they sat in the common room, grumbling as you finished combing out the hairs that didn’t belong. “Stop complaining, I’m almost done.” You scolded George, who huffed. Fred was already finished and sat beside you on, propping his feet up on the table and leaning his head back on the back of the couch.

“Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.” You suggested as you finished, tossing the comb to the side and shoving George away from you. “I could’ve given you a much better plan.”

“Oh please, yours are about as good as ours.” He responded, sinking onto the other end of the couch.

“At least my plans actually work.” You stated. “And my pranks, and that does make them more successful than yours.”

“Pranks are supposed to be funny, Y/n, not practical.” George teased. “I don’t think you’ve ever made a prank better than ours.”

“Oh really?” You said, standing and crossing your arms. “I could prank better than you two any day.” This made Fred pick his head up.

“Is that a challenge, Y/l/n?” He asked, standing up to meet you. The boy immediately towered over you. You should’ve picked your next words wisely and not ended up in a prank war with the Weasley twins, but of course you didn’t.

“Sounds like it, Weasley.” You told him confidently, stepping closer to him. He laughed.

“Ok fine, we’ll see who’s better.” He said, giving you a smirk that almost shook your composure. You tilted your head slightly.

“I guess we will.” You told him, turning and stalking toward the stairs to the dorms. “Good night, boys.” His eyes and his smirk followed you until you were out of sight. And once you were, you realized how badly you screwed up. You were definitely the smartest of the three but you couldn’t come up with something nearly as fast. And now you were on the clock. It wouldn’t surprise you if they had a plan in the next hour so thinking something up soon wasn’t optional.

You walked into the great hall for dinner that night without them, but they had beaten you there. Fred made eye contact with you, wearing a smirk. His brother sat beside him. They definitely already had a plan and you were definitely done for. Regardless, you sat down next to Fred.

“Fred, George.” You greeted coolly. Fred managed to surpress a chuckle. Instead, he copied your demeanor.

“Y/n,” he responded, returning to his meal. You ate quietly beside him, holding yourself together while listening to the twins try not to laugh the entire dinner.

“What’s up with them?” Ron asked Harry, who shrugged in response. The entire section of the table picked up on the change in interaction between you. Especially since you and Fred normally behaved like a married couple. After eating, you silently stood and left the great hall with Ginny. Fred gave you a stupid look in an attempt to break your seriousness. It only managed to bring a toothless smile to your lips, which you hid away quickly.

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The next morning arrived and you still didn’t have a plan. It was probably already too late for you but you were too stubborn to just give up. You slid out of your bed yawning, but before you could stand all the way you were met with Angelina’s shocked expression.

“What?” You asked her nervously.

“I… would just go look in the mirror.” She told you. Hermione came walking out of the bathroom, dropping her things once she saw you.

“God, please tell me it’s not that bad.” You said, panicking. You stood and ran past Hermione into the bathroom, gasping as you saw your reflection. Your hair was as bright a shade of red as the twins’ were. You clasped a hand over your mouth in surprise.

“What happened?” Angelina asked, sliding into the bathroom behind you.

“The twins is what happened!” You exclaimed. The noise had finally woken Ginny.

“It’s really not that bad, Y/n. It’s just a bit of a shock at first.” Hermione assured. It wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever seen but that didn’t make you any less irritated.

“Hermione, look what they did to my hair!” You said, groaning.

“Hey,” Ginny said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She started a yawn but it stopped dead in her throat when she saw you.

“I’m going to kill your brothers, Gin.” You said, trying your best to make your hair look decent.

“Please do, I have plenty more where they came from.” She responded, turning and leaving the bathroom. Once you looked okay to your standards you followed.

You stormed out of the dorm and down into the common room. Fred and George were at the chairs and turned their heads as they heard you enter. “You two!” You pointed at them. They stood immediately, stifling their laughter.

“You shouldn’t have challenged us.” George told you and shrugged, which made you scowl at him. You crossed your arms, absolutely fuming.

“Aww you’re so cute when you’re mad.” Fred stated, pulling your glare to him.

“You think I’m cute? We’ll get ready because I’m about to be gorgeous!” You snapped, beyond pissed off.

“Don’t worry, Y/n.” Fred spoke in an attempt to calm you. “It should wear off in the next hour.”

“It better.” You pointed a finger at him.

An hour turned into the morning and the morning turned into the whole day. By the next morning, your hair was still the same shade of red. When you found the twins in the common room again, they looked surprised and much more panicked.

“An hour, huh?” You asked them, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. Fred approached you, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with his hand.

“It really was supposed to be just an hour, love.” He told you. There was a guilt in his voice that made you soften.

“Who knows? It could take weeks to wear off at this point.” George stated, not getting up from his seat on the couch.

“Weeks?” You repeated back to him, dropping your head into your hands with a groan. “This is going to be the color of my hair for weeks?”

“Sorry Y/n, I have no idea what went wrong.” He apologized. “But I’ll figure out something to fix it.”

You sighed. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Fred never mentioned it to you, but he did do his research. He even ventured into muggle hair dye, which seemed like his best option. The hard part was matching your hair color, so he took a small picture he had of you and picked out the closest shade to yours.

That evening you had finished dinner early and beat everyone back to the common room. Now you were sitting in your dorm, having just changed out of your robes. You were just about ready to return to the common room when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in,” You said simply. Fred came in, carrying a couple of small boxes. “Oh hey,”

“I have a solution,” he announced, handing you the boxes. Inside contained y/h/c hair dye. “It’s only temporary. I figure we could use this until your hair goes back to normal.”

Your eyes softened at the gesture and you looked up at him. “Thank you, Freddie. That’s really thoughtful.”

“It’s the least I could do for turning you into a Weasley.” He said with a little chuckle, taking you into the bathroom.

Fred leaned on the small counter and read the instructions. “Ok, get your hair wet.” He said without looking up from the papers in his hand. God he looked attractive standing there, his long body supported by the counter and his brows creased just barely while he read.

You did as he said, wetting your fiery hair and returning to him, trying to keep it from dripping. He took a little towel and draped it over your shoulders, then positioned you so that you stood in front of him.

He poured the paste into your hair and you sighed as he massaged it in, making sure to get your entire head. “Enjoying this, darling?” He teased, getting an elbow to the torso from you. He laughed and continued to work the dye into your hair.

“You know, it’s only fair if I get to dye your hair too.” You informed him, causing him to pause for a moment.

“Y/n, I wouldn’t look good in any other hair color.” He replied, tying your hair up messily behind your head to let the dye soak in.

“Neither do I, but I didn’t get the choice.” You returned, turning around to face him. He looked at you for a second, considering his options.

“Fine,” He sighed. You smiled, trading spots with him and hoisting yourself onto the counter to reach his head better. “But for the record, you can pull off any color so that’s not a fair comparison.” He argued.

“Ok, Fred. I get it, you have a crush.” You teased him, working the dye into his long, soft hair. You almost detected him falter before returning to his normal composure.

“Oh, you mock me, Y/n.” He said, putting a hand to his chest in exaggerated offense. You both sat in the little bathroom with your now h/c hair tied up and soaking. Once the dye sat for long enough, you rinsed and dried both of your heads and then stood in front of the mirror to study your work. You looked completely back to normal but Fred looked entirely different.

“I actually think I make this work.” He said, turning his head to observe the new color.

“I agree.” You gave him a bright smile, relieved to have your regular hair back.

“It is going to come out though, right?”

“Yes because I, unlike you double-checked.” You stated. “It’ll come out in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s comforting.” He sighed.

“It should be. Because if I said it then it’s true.” You smirked, tilting your head up to him. “And now you have to admit that my pranks are better.”

“Y/n, you didn’t even do anything.” He laughed, looking down at you. His face looked different now that it was framed with h/c hair.

“I didn’t have to,” You explained. “Just letting you fail was proof enough.”

“Fine. Our plans work much better when you’re apart of them.” He got out slowly as if it was difficult to say.

“That’s not what I asked, Freddie.”

“Well that’s all you’re going to get, so you’re just going to have to be content with it.” Fred crossed his arms, not even phased when you gave him a smack on the arm. All jokes aside, he genuinely did prefer when you were there to participate in their schemes and keep them in check. He could admit you were really the only brain in the operation.

#She calls me Freddie #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley fluff #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x you #weasley twin fanfiction #weasley twins #hogwarts fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

[lipzlipzlipz]

Coping

After the second task, Fleur wanted someone to blame, knowing full well who really deserved her ire.

765 words, rated G

Takes place in the same world as my fic Tender Is The Night which you can read here on ao3. I’m not totally sure but I don’t think I’ll be adding this ficlet to ao3 so it’ll just live here for now.

For the Ladies of HP Fest Monthly Mini: 1 Feb 2024 - Fleur Delacour @ladiesofhpfest

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

“This is outrageous and an affront. I demand to file a formal complaint against whoever is responsible,” said Fleur upon bursting through the door of Olympe Maxime’s office in the Beauxbatons carriage. It had taken time to make sure Gabrielle was cleaned, fed, and napping in her room, but once she was convinced of her sister’s warmth and safety she’d marched straight towards the office.

From her chair behind her desk, Maxime watched for a few moments as Fleur furiously paced back and forth, then said, “Calm yourself, Fleur. You should’ve known the song wasn’t meant to be taken literally once you realized what was stolen from the champions were actually people. You should’ve known Gabrielle wasn’t in any danger.”

“How? How could I have known that?” Fleur asked, coming to a stop and glaring at the older woman. “People have died in this tournament. No matter what protections they used today, the risks for the hostages – for any of us – have never been zero.”

Was she the only one who knew this? How could anyone think this was acceptable?

“Gabrielle is not old enough to have consented,” argued Fleur. “It’s also clear my parents were not told the full extent of her requested involvement because they certainly would not have given their permission either. And why her, for that matter? The other champions had friends, a couple of Yule Ball companions – Gabrielle is my blood! The only one brought in from outside the school.”

It wasn’t fair. Granted, the other champions had undoubtedly been unnerved at the thought of their friends under threat, each of them having to cope with that turmoil as they braved the task. But what was taken from her had been her family. If her dalliance with Hermione Granger were known and she’d been selected instead, Fleur was certain she would’ve been less rattled by it. While the girl’s participation as Krum’s hostage still filled the young Veela with an odd mix of fear, concern, and jealousy, Hermione was fifteen and a capable witch, and Fleur would’ve been on more equal footing with the other champions in her search for her.

Now that she thought about it, another thing the hostages had in common was that neither of them was of age. It was absolutely barbaric that the age limit put on champions had not been a limit for their hostages as well. And Gabrielle wasn’t even in school yet. Her little sister… immobilized and tied down under that horrible lake. The thought sent a frightening chill down her spine.

“Whose idea was it to choose her? Was it yours?”

“Of course not,” replied Maxime in a placating tone. “The organizers and headmasters consulted together. I suggested your friends Odette and Paolo, even the boy you took to the Yule Ball since it was apparent that’s where they were leaning for Krum and Diggory. It was Mr. Crouch who’d sent a message through his subordinate to suggest your sister… hm… in hindsight, the note was curiously adamant about it.”

Her eyes narrowed. Fleur didn’t like Crouch. It hadn’t bothered her that he’d skipped the Yule Ball and the second task. But now she wanted him here so she could give him a piece of her mind.

“But regardless of Mr. Crouch’s motives,” continued Maxime pointedly, “you as a fully-grown witch and champion of Beauxbatons were expected to maintain your composure no matter who was chosen. You faced the same obstacles in the lake as the others.”

Fleur frowned and clenched her fists. Unsaid, yet loud and clear, were the criticisms at her performance against the grindylows, creatures a fourteen-year-old boy had bested, and she felt those criticisms as if they were lashings across her back.

Not wanting to let Maxime see how she’d been cut, she stormed out of the office. Only when she reached her bedroom did her face fall and her shoulders sag. Fleur opened the door and silently entered her room, collapsing onto a chair facing her still-sleeping sister.

The innocent girl who idolized her would never cast blame. Neither would Hermione. And later, Fleur would seek out the brunette and take comfort in her arms, but right now she wanted to wallow in the painful truth of her shortcomings.

The issues of fairness in the tournament didn’t matter. What mattered was her.

Her wits and skills. Her ability to overcome her emotions and accomplish her task.

Which she hadn’t.

In the end, when challenged with the belief that someone she loved was in danger… Fleur Delacour had failed.

And she would never forgive herself for it.

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

Note: I didn’t originally plan to contribute to this fest but then yesterday I had an idea of how this conversation between Fleur and Maxime could’ve gone, taking inspiration from Tender and how I kept her canon tournament performance, and I typed this up.

Thanks for reading!

#pretend Fleur and Maxime are conversing in French #fleurmione #but more like background fleurmione #fleur delacour #ladies of hp fest monthly minis #tender is the night

[mallowsweetmiri]

Peaches - Part One

~ A Fred Weasley Fic ~

“God I’m so fucking tired of this shit,” you groan as you let your head fall onto the table. It was going on hour three of doing homework and studying for your charms exam.

“The fact that you’re probably the best in our class and even you’re struggling with this exam is not making me feel better,” your friend Lucy sighs. You continue to groan as you shift your head back and forth in your hands and rub your eyes. You weren’t even talking about the exam.

“Think I’m gonna go for a walk, care to join?” You ask your friend, but she shakes her head and says she’s too nervous and has to continue her studies or else she’ll surely fail. You shrug and begin to pack your bag. You wanted to be alone anyway.

It was your sixth year at Hogwarts and you were arguably one of the best students in your class. The only issue was that this year you were finding it hard to give a single fuck about studying or doing your homework. For starters, the Tri-wizard Tournament served for an easy distraction. With swarms of new and interesting faces, it was hard to focus on a potions essay. Secondly, you had no idea what you wanted to do. When you were younger, you wanted to be a curse breaker like your dad. You had even completed your owls last year to pursue this career and now you were stuck taking some of the most difficult courses at the school. But that was before it happened.

You sighed, shoving your hands in your pockets as you wandered out of the south exit. The brisk November air struck your nose making you sniffle. You always preferred the fall. The cold air cleared your head and the rapid changes in the landscape peaked your interest. You wandered over to a browning tree and took a seat on its roots. You let your eyes lock onto the shore of the lake and finally let your mind wander.

It had happened over the summer. You were an only child born to two powerful wizards. Your mom had died in the first war. Both of your parents had spoke out against dark wizards. Both had fought for the good side. Only one had died. Your dad did his best to raise you on his own, but losing the love of his life took its toll on him. It didn’t help that you were the spitting image of your mother. Darkened curls falling over your petite frame with the face of a vixen. But you had your father’s hazel eyes. You finally broke out of your stare as you let your head fall with a broken laugh. God, you missed his eyes. The career that he had dedicated his life to had taken it. It didn’t matter how skilled he was. His fate was sealed the second he touched the object. At least that’s what the curse breaker department had told you that day. Now both of your parents were dead.

The upside, you scolded yourself for even calling it an upside, was that you were now left a fortune and a house. All to yourself. At 17 years old.

“Fuck!” You yelled into the wind as you let out an exasperated groan. This walk wasn’t helping you at all. Nothing seemed to help these days. Your head jerked up as you heard a chuckle from behind you. He was strolling towards you with that stupid smirk that was always plastered on his face. Fred Weasley. You rolled your eyes. “Just my luck,” you muttered turning away to face the lake again.

“Hey, don’t mind me. Sometimes you just gotta let it out,” he chuckled, continuing to walk towards you. Soon he reached your tree and he leaned up against it, his body towering over you as you sat on the ground. You look up to see his brown eyes looking down at you, that stupid smirk still covering half his face.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your voice cold and emotionless. Fred raised his eyebrows, the freckles on his nose moving with them.

“I was just using the owlery… are you alright?” He asked. He seemed genuinely concerned. You guessed yelling fuck at the top of your lungs didn’t exactly paint the picture of mental stability. You sighed and clenched the inside fabrics of your pockets.

“Just peachy,” you spat. He chuckled again at this and pushed himself off the tree.

“Well, just peachy, I’m going back to the castle if you care to join me. It’s cold out here,” his arms clung closely to himself as he said this, shivering. He was only wearing a thin long sleeve. Your mouth curved up into a little grin. For some reason this had made you laugh.

“Maybe ‘cause you’re daft and came outside without a jacket. I’m fine staying out here. Like I said, I’m just peachy,” you say with a sickly sweet smile before dropping it completely and turning away from him again. You don’t even see him smile at your sarcasm.

“Alright have fun freezing out here, just peachy. Hmm, peach. That has a ring to it,” he ponders as he lazily strolls back to the castle. You watch him as he continues through the bridge. It was very rare to see him without his other half, what was he doing in the owlery without George?

You sat outside for a little while longer. You let your mind wander over the possibilities of what the prankster could’ve been doing. At least the exchange had taken your mind of things for a bit. You pushed yourself off the ground and began the journey to the great hall. It was Sunday, and tomorrow you’d have to burden yourself with classes and a charms exam. But for tonight, you’d stuff your face and maybe laugh with your friends and get a goods nights sleep. Hopefully. You hadn’t been sleeping well.

Soon you pushed through the doors of the hall, the smell of roast and potatoes filling your nose. Your stomach growled. You strolled over to the Slytherin table.

“Y/N! You had me worried, that was a long walk,” Lucy frowns as you sat next to her. You waved her off and began to fill your plate with dinner. She pouts and pushes her short brown hair behind her ear. It was so sleek that it immediately fell back in front of her face, making her huff again.

“Oh come on Luce, you should know better than to worry about Y/N by now. She’s a strong, independent woman,” Cassius smirked, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, fuck off Cass,” you huffed, but you couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“Ah, there’s that smile we love so much,” Cassius gushed at you from across the table. You chuckled a bit and continued to eat. Your smiles were few and far this year.

You finished up dinner with your friends before you all headed down to the dungeons for some much needed sleep. Cassius bid you goodnight as you and Lucy trudged up the stairs into your dormitory. You immediately threw your stuff onto a chair and began to undress.

“Can we please wake up early for breakfast and study for the exam? I could really use your help Y/N… please?” Lucy begged with a cute pout. You chucked. You couldn’t say no to your best friend. Especially when she looked positively precious.

“Of course, Lucy darling. I’ll make sure you’re awake too,” you say as you cross the room to hug her. She brushes her fingers through your hair as you snuggle into her. You’d always been affectionate with each other.

“Aww my little Y/N,” she kisses the top of your head, “go on and get some sleep now. I need my tutor to be well rested!” You chuckle as you climb into your bed and she does the same. Lucy had been there for you through everything. You drift into sleep with the comfort of having your best friend in the bed next to you.

—————————————————

The next morning, you and Lucy had woken up early and made your way down to the great hall. The two of you sat with your notes sprawled in front of you beside two cups of coffee and some toast. You were taking a bite of your food when Lucy raised her head at something from across the hall.

“Weasley incoming…” she said wearily. You furrowed your eyebrows and whipped your head forward, only to confirm that a Weasley was in fact approaching the two of you.

“Mornin’ peach. I couldn’t help but see you from across the hall. What are you doing down here so early?” He asked, sitting down at the bench across from you as if it was normal. Both you and Lucy looked at him with confused expressions, but his lazy grin stayed stubbornly on his face. Why was he here?

“Um, we’re studying for our charms exam…” you said flatly. He folded his hands together.

“Funny! I’m doing the same exact thing,” his smile was lopsided as he leaned across the table to peak at your notes. You instinctively covered them quickly with your arms and pulled them towards your body.

“Funny! Maybe that’s cause we’re in the same class, Fred,” sarcasm oozed from your voice. Finally his stupid smile was replaced with furrowed brows.

“We’re in the same class?” He asked, dumbfounded. Lucy laughed into her cup of coffee, looking at me with knowing eyes. It was my turn to smirk now.

“Yes, Fred, we’ve been in the same class quite a few times. Oh wait! I forgot, your heads always shoved up your ass! That must be why he’s never noticed us before,” I gasp, turning to Lucy with a positively cherry smile glued to my face. Fred throws his head back and rubs his hand over his tired eyes.

“Fuck I’m sorry… and you even know my name…” he trailed off, looking only mildly embarrassed. You’re surprised he has even an ounce of shame in him.

“I think the whole school knows your name. And your brothers.” Lucy says, chuckling at him. Is he really that daft?

“Well since you both seem to know my name, may I ask yours?” He asks all gentleman like. You just know Lucy is eating this shit up.

“I’m Lucy,” she chuckles and they smile at each other. He turns to you, eagerness in his eyes. You roll yours.

“Go back to your table Weasley, I’m not giving you my notes or my name,” your response makes him pout slightly but that stupid smile pops right back as he begins to stand.

“Alright, alright,” he throws his hands up in defense, “I hear you loud and clear, peach. See you in class,” he waves at you two before walking back to the Gryffindor table. You spot George cracking up at the table with their other friend.

“Peach?“ Lucy laughs hysterically. You groan and pull your notes again.

“The last thing I need this week is a Weasley bothering me…” you grumble, but Lucy just kept giggling.

“I don’t know, he’s kind of funny. He is a prat though for not knowing our names,” she lets out one last chuckle before turning back to studying.

——————————————-

Fred’s POV

I can see George and Lee hysterical as I retreat back to the gryffindor table.

“Wow! That looked like it went great,” George cracked up, slapping Lee on the shoulder.

“Well, those Slytherins are known for their kindness,” Lee choked out. I roll my eyes but I couldn’t help but join the laughter.

“Well her friend was nice enough,” I shrugged as I took my seat, “but apparently they’re both in our charms class.” George threw his head back with a fit of laughter.

“Yeah, no shit Freddie! When you pointed her out as the girl you saw yesterday I thought it clicked in your head that it was Y/N.”

My jaw dropped. Are you kidding me?

“I didn’t even know her name…” I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. This only made George and Lee go into more hysterics.

“Well good luck befriending her now, mate,” Lee clapped my shoulder as we continued to eat and study.

I glanced over my shoulder again at her.

Y/N… How had I never noticed her before? She’s not like any girl I’ve met at Hogwarts. I suppose I had never really given a second thought to Slytherins…

———————————————-

I hope you guys enjoyed this first part of my new Fred series! Also sorry I have visuals described for Y/N but I have a certain character in mind for this one hehe.

I have the first few parts written out so I’ll post them rn!

Leave feedback in the comments and suggestions

#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley headcanons #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #harry potter oneshot #harry potter headcanon #fred weasley imagine #Fred Weasley

[entropicquilibriumofchaos]

Fourth Annual Cauldron Lake Ice Hockey Tournament

In the thrilling conclusion to the Fourth Annual Cauldron Lake Ice Hockey Tournament, (sponsored by Coffee World and the Bright Falls Council for Outdoor Recreation), the Oh Deer Diner Deer, led by team captain Rose "the Brute" Marigold, face the reigning champions, the Kalevala Knights, led by team captain Ilmo "the Grinder" Koskela. Which team will rise to the occasion and which will sink beneath the black water of Cauldron Lake?

Read it on ao3

“Alright team!” Ilmo shouted over the rumble of idle chatter. 

All of the heads turned to him as he stood in the doorway of the heating tent. His stance commanded attention; legs spread to keep his balance on the skates on his feet and his arm out to the side, holding an old hockey stick that looked like it had seen better days. He had a look of steely confidence that seemed at home on his features. 

“Last game of the night, last game of the tournament,” he started, walking into the tent to conserve heat. “It's us versus the Oh Deer Diner Deer once again.”

A quiet murmur filled the tent as the team made their comments about their rivals. Ilmo put a hand up, silencing them effectively.

“You may have heard that Bright Falls has a goalie that has been dominating this year. The rumors are true, the new Sheriff, Tim Breaker, is helping out the Deer this year. And yes, he played semi-professional hockey. But, he’s got nothing on Jaakko.”

A few cheers sounded and Jaakko was shoved from side to side in his goalie gear. A small smile appeared on his face as he pushed his teammates back playfully.

“Okay starting line up time:” Ilmo announced, and all the heads popped up. “Jones, ya ready?”

A middle-aged man with grizzled features nodded sharply.

“Good, ‘cause you’re going!” Ilmo shouted, and the team gave a grunt. “Charlie, ya ready?”

Among the older denizens of Watery, a teenaged boy popped his head up. The black and yellow hockey gear he sported seemed to almost drowned him. Nonetheless he raised a fist, “Down with the Deer!”

The team cheered in agreement.

“Good, ‘cause you’re going!” Ilmo repeated. “WIlliams, ya ready?”

Another player grunted, leading the team in cheers. 

“Good, ‘cause you’re going!” he said, before locking eyes with his brother. The two of them stared each other down with fire in their eyes before Ilmo spoke up. “Jaakko, ya ready?”

“You know it, brother,” he replied, “Let’s kick some Bright Falls ass, boys.”

Ilmo belted out one last “Good, ‘cause you’re going!” and the tent erupted into shouts as the team stood up and donned the rest of their gear. 

Meeting in the middle of the tent, over the propane heater, all of the team members put their hands in a circle. 

“Knights on three,” Ilmo instructed, “Yksi, kaksi, kolme:”

The team shouted, “Knights!” in unison before filing out of the tent.

Ilmo made his way to the back of the tent to his brother, who was buckling his mask to his helmet. Jaakko smiled at his brother and grabbed the back of his head and brought their helmets together with an audible clash.

“Go get ‘em, veli.” Jaakko encouraged, making Ilmo smile widely.

The brothers tottered on their skates out of the heated tent and onto the ice of Cauldron Lake. A good-sized rink had been cleared of snow and benches had been hauled out for spectators to watch. Under a tent on the opposite side of the rink, a table with chairs behind and on either side served as the penalty boxes and score-keeper’s table. Behind the table, in a heavy fur lined coat was Ahti, nursing a coffee and leaning against a shovel. Next to him was Rose Marigold, teetering back and forth on her skates. Her team was warming up on the ice as the Knights joined on the opposite side.

Jaakko broke from Ilmo and joined the rest of the team and the captain skated over to the tent. He came to an abrupt stop in front of Rose, sending a flurry of snow at her calves. She just rolled her eyes. 

Ahti just chuckled and shook his head. “Pluck your chickens elsewhere, lapset. Wouldn’t want a repeat of last year, ei?”

Last year’s tournament flashed vividly in Ilmo’s mind. His back still hurt from where Rose had body checked him hard enough to send him into the snowbank. But getting her back with a slapshot between her skates had been payback enough. However, the two didn’t speak for a month afterwards.

“The Deer are committed to sportsmanlike conduct this year, Ahti. No trouble from us.” Rose boasted, leaning against her hockey stick. 

Ilmo rolled his eyes. “Knights are known for their chivalry, you know.”

Rose scowled. “Oh shove your chivalry up your ass, Koskela,” she mocked.

Ahti laughed heartily, throwing his head back. “Ah, ten for the attempt.”

The two players shoved off of the ice towards their respective teams. It was sure to be a close game.

#this is awful but i couldn't get it out of my head #any way yeah #ilmo koskela #jaakko koskela #koskela brothers #rose marigold #tim breaker (mentioned) #ahti #ahti the janitor #Bright Falls #Watery #ice hockey #Kalevala knights #oh deer diner #no beta we die like jaakko #alan wake fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

[its-actually-minicika]

Hey!

I have an idea that just wouldn’t leave my head and as you might already know I really really love your work, you have an amazing talent! This could be a scenerio or idk. So I was thinking about the lake scene in the triwizard tournament, where the person they take from Viktor is Hermione, and my idea is that the reader gets taken the same way after going to the Yule ball with Borya. And like Aemond just cant find the reader and is really worried (you can decide if the confession already happend or not). And as the first champion comes up with their person he realises whats going on and he is worried and maybe jealous and all that. Maybe something even goes bad like it did with Fleurs little sister or something and later just cute reunion and stuff. The whole thing is just Aemond being worried and maybe really affecionate after the whole thing. I dont know if you like this or not, But I would love to see this. Anyway, sorry about this being so long! I hope you are doing okay, and I will continue loving everything you write! ❤️

Siren Calls

(HotD Hogwarts AU)

A scenario of what your life could look like in the HotD Hogwarts AU - it can be read as a stand-alone, as a prequel to the "Yule Ball" series, or as a one-shot all together;

Pairing: Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: mentions of blood and open wounds - other than that, this is pure fluff!

Author's Note: Ramielll!! This!! Is!! Everything!! Thank you so much for sharing your idea with me - it blew my mind completely, and I absolutely love it! I hope you don't mind that I adjusted your ask a little and made the lake scene happen before the Yule Ball takes place;

Your support and kind words mean everything to me, and I thank you for them from the bottom of my heart 😭💗 I'm not really proud of this, but I hope you still enjoy this little piece!

Also, I wanted to take a moment to address an ask that I received from @jamespotterismydaddy regarding more HotD!Hogwarts AU headcanons - I will post them soon, as well! I didn't just ignore your request :") But I first have to work on the 3d part for the Yule Ball, since the following headcanons will have a lot of spoilers for the series;

Six wizards go underwater. Do all of them swim back up?

Quietness washed over the secluded corner of the library - the only palpable noise being the aggressive scribble of Aemond's black feather.

"Sounds like you got a good lead over there..." (Y/N) whispered to him, lost in concentration, and fully engrossed in her Transfiguration paper.

"Hmm." The male replied, fighting back the urge to stop his writing and meet her feeble form, clashing his eyes with hers.

"Psst," She giggled into his ear, "Go slower, why won't you? At this rate, you'll be done way before I am."

Aemond felt his lips quirk up in a content smile. His hand came to a halt, and he finally glanced upon the girl's darkened orbs.

He drank in her distinctive features, reveling in her flushed cheeks and teasing smile. Fire surged within his veins, pumping both heart and loins alike. He tightened his fist below the table, cursing himself for the weakness she so easily caused him.

"Then you'd only have yourself to blame." He hushed right back, tickling her face with his warm breath.

The Gryffindor groaned and bit her cheek in grave frustration. Her eyes widened in feigned horror, and she gripped his shoulders tightly.

"No, no - do anything but leave me in the library all alone! My poor heart will not stand it!" She warned jokingly, though lacing her voice with a serious undertone.

Aemond let out a short breath, almost begrudgingly so, before he placed his big hand atop her head and affectionately patted her back in place.

"You know I'd never leave you to study alone." He remarked dryly, unamused. His words, although neutral and clear, faded in the light of his soft voice and downy eyes. "But that doesn't mean I'll stay here all night. You'll have to make more of an effort."

Another growl and a heartbeat later, (Y/N) pouted her lips and stuck out her tongue.

"Fine." She confirmed decidedly, "You'll see just how fast I can be. I bet you five Galleons I can finish even faster than you!"

The daring nature of Gryffindors shone through her, leaving Aemond both jaded and amused by it's wake. His chest filled with a fondness that scared him, but made him feel whole - complete - at the same time.

"Deal." Aemond piped back to her, leaning back on his chair smugly.

"Shake on it, then." The girl provoked him, with a wide smile etched on her face.

Both wizards brought their hand out in the greeting of the other, and soft fingers entwined with slim and long ones.

For a while, neither seemed to want to part. Together, they fit almost like a puzzle; their palms fell perfectly against the other - the Targaryen licked his lips tentatively, and turned his stare on their joined hands. If there was such a thing as humans made for a specific purpose, he was then sure his purpose was to love that girl.

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, and felt her cheeks turn into a shade of crimson. Before either could open their mouth to speak, the dull footsteps of another echoed through their quiet space.

"Ah, Miss (L/N), Mr Targaryen - Otto told me you might be here." The grave voice of Professor Daemon rung loudly atop their heads.

As quick as it came, their moment was gone, and both students reluctantly let go of their intimate bind.

"Professor Targaryen?" The girl inquired, surprised to see their DADA professor so late at night. She got up from her chair and made more room at their table for him, but Daemon only chuckled at her politeness, raising a hand to stop her in her tracks.

"Thank you, sweetling, but I won't be long. I've come to fetch you to Ott- Professor Hightower's office."

The two students exchanged a look of weariness, before Aemond rose up from his seat as well.

"Ah, not you, Mr Targaryen. Just Miss (L/N) will do just fine."

Aemond's mouth pressed into a tight line. His lilac eyes glared into his uncle's violet orbs, who only smirked at his nephiew's half-baked challenge.

"Professor, the hour is late. I should very much like to escort (Y/N) to my grandfather's office, as well."

Daemon fought back a bemused snicker. His eyebrows rose at his nephiew's suspense, and the man smirked slightly.

"Exactly, Aemond, the hour is late. Presumably, you both have classes tomorrow, is that correct? You could do with a good night's sleep."

Just like that, the conversation was over. Daemon placed his hand on the girl's back in a soothing manner, guiding her ahead of him with a firm nudge. Aemond, for a while, stood before them, his hand still gripping the dripping end of his elegant feather.

His uncle quirked his head to the side, signaling him to make way and, eventually, he did.

"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, Aemond!" The girl assured her friend over her shoulder, throwing him one last dejected look.

Aemond was left alone with his thoughts, feeling more frustrated than ever. He slowly looked down at his fisted hand, and clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Shit."

The ink would leave stains on the inside of his palm.

Breakfast came. And breakfast passed.

Still, there was no trace of the girl in the whole wide hall.

Aemond's stomach felt like it was doing backflips. Seven times he looked over at the Gryffindors table. Seven times he closed his eyes in ire, having failed to spot the strands of her soft, familiar hair.

Perhaps she was in her Common Room.

Endless thoughts about what happened to her surged through his mind. Had his grandfather told her something that upset her? Did she catch a cold while staying in the airy office, with nothing on but her shirt and skirt?

"What are you thinking about?" A velvety voice rang in his ear.

"Hmm."

"If looks could kill, those Gryffindors would be six feet under." Alys laughed softly, brushing her hand with his.

Aemond sighed deeply, and moved his whole body towards the entrance of the Great Hall. Alys quirked up a brow and clicked her tongue in irritation - her emerald eyes ran over his broad back and lean shoulders; she bit her lip in anticipation, as her hands slowly extended to swallow him in a sensual back hug.

But a Gryffindor passed him, and the Targaryen took his chance. Wordlessly, he got up from his table, completely brushing Alys Rivers off, and reached out to him.

"Have you seen (Y/N) (L/N)?" He inquired dryly, sparing no time for any pleasantries.

"Uhh," The 4th year began, scratching his head in confusion, "Not since last night, no. She's probably still in her dorm or something, over-sleeping."

Aemond gave him a curt nod, releasing his tight grip over his forearm.

"Do you know who she shares a room with?" He pestered again. "Are any of the girls still here?"

"Yeah, Celeste. ... She's the blonde girl over there, at the edge of the table."

As the Gryffindor spoke, his hand crept up to point out the direction of (Y/N)'s bunk-mate. Aemond hummed in satisfaction, before brushing past the boy to march over to Celeste's table.

"You're welcome, by the way!" The brave 4th year yelled after him - though his attempt to grab his attention reached nought but deaf ears.

"You're Celeste, right?" Aemond's deep voice rumbled from inside his chest. He completely disregarded the Gryffindors' heated conversation, and instead fixed Celeste with his one good eye.

"In the flesh." She joked cautiously, leaning back in her seat to take a better look at the man before her. "You're Aemond Targaryen, right?" When he gave her a small nod, she smiled, fully satisfied with her discovery.

"Thought I recognised ya from somewhere!" She beamed at him, before taking on a more solemn air. "Can I help you with anything?"

"(Y/N)." Aemond accentuated with a quirked up brow, "She wasn't at breakfast today. Is she okay?"

At his words, Celeste scans the entirety of the cluttered hall, taken aback. She brings her blue eyes on Aemond's form again, and gives him a confused frown.

"Are you sure? When I woke up, her bed was all made up and stuff. She had to have been here."

As she spoke, the girl nibbled on her lower lip.

"Actually... I haven't really seen her since last night. She said she was going to the library to study. I waited for her but then, you know, I fell asleep."

Aemond felt his jaw set tightly. His one eyes went over to the Professors' table, searching frantically for Otto Hightower.

For once in his entire life, his grandfather wasn't there.

Right in the middle of their set assembly, Professor Daemon Targaryen shot him a provocative smirk.

Aemond snarled in retaliation, and climbed up the set of stairs to have a word with his eccentric uncle.

"Professor." He greeted tightly, before barking out in a single breath, "Last night, you took Miss (Y/N) (L/N) to my grandfather's office. Though it appears as if she hasn't yet returned. Since Professor Hightower isn't here himself, I wanted to inquire you on her whereabouts."

Although his sentence was perfectly weighed in both politeness and structure, there was no denying the malice he held in his undertone.

Daemon took great pleasure in it.

"Ah, yes, of course!" He exclaimed in a mocking manner, before taking on a more serious expression. "It may come as a surprise to you, Aemond, but I do not keep tabs on students and their current locations. I can assure you, though, she'll turn up eventually."

He dismissed his nephiew with a bored swish of his robes, bidding his goodbyes with a derisive smile.

"Perhaps you'll see her today at the triwizarding function." Daemon shrugged teasingly, earning a scornful look from both Aemond and his fellow colleagues.

The Slytherin wavered a moment, before he turned on his heel with a hum upon his lips.

His worry only increased with every passing hour he didn't spend in her company. Alys had latched onto him like a leech looking for her next meal, and his patience was running thinner by the minute.

Bets were placed on who will submerge from the waters of the Great Lake first - the noise of the crowd irked Aemond to no end, and her absence only intensified the feeling of dread that was setting inside his stomach.

Daemon had encouraged him to be here. Although his uncle was known to be cruel, he almost never graced people with false leads. Or so Aemond hoped.

His lilac gaze scanned through the floating towers, stopping at any student who resembled (Y/N) - at least barely.

The Targaryen let out a low growl, and decided to set his attention back onto the troubling waters.

He was worrying for nothing, wasn't he? Chances were, (Y/N) was hidden somewhere with her other friends, laughing and eating those awful flavoured jelly beans.

He had nothing to worry. Nothing at all.

And yet, jealousy swirled in his heart, pressing down his chest in a painful manner.

What were the chances that she was avoiding him? That she was sick of him following her around, and just wanted a break for the day?

His insecurity turned his attention back on Alys' blabbering.

"I bet that Borya would emerge first." She joyously told him, basking in the glow that his sharp eyes provided. "There's hardly any other champion more athletically inclined, and you need a lot of stamina to search through the whole lake for an hour."

Aemond's brow twitched at her words, and his whole disposition changed. "They have to search the lake?" He asked, unaware of the trail's circumstances.

Alya offered him a sly smile, and began playing with his robes' ends. She gestured for him to come closer, and leaned on over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"You didn't hear this from me, but apparently, all champions have to find something very dear to them deep beneath the lake's waters." She coyly told him, winking playfully as she sat down.

"At least, that's what Adrienne told me when I asked her last night."

Just as she finished her explanation, Oliver Hammer, Hogwarts' champion, emerged from the waters with his girlfriend, tightly joined at his hip.

A rattling thunder of congratulatory applauses could be heard from all around them. Alys pouted cutely, and turned her head to Aemond.

"Awh, that's just bad luck, isn't it? I just lost ten Galleons...!"

But Aemond had long switched his attention to Oliver Hammer. Something inside of him clicked at their sudden appearance, and the younger Targaryen made his way through the sea of people, to get a hold of the boy's damp robe.

"Congratulations, Hammer." He remaked loudly, as to quiet down the people next to them. Violet eyes were met with clashing brown hues, and Slytherin smiled at Slytherin.

"Thank you, Targaryen." He mirrored his formality with a small smirk, "You look tense. Something happened? Did you bet against me and are mad about my flawless victory?"

"Far from it." Aemond assured him, though his impenetrable expression never changed. "I have to ask you: did you spot (Y/N) down there, too?"

Oliver's eyes widened reflexively, and he jerked his head back a notch. Surprise and confusion battled for dominance, until the older boy finally spoke.

"Yeah - she's near the grindylows, about ten yards from here." He coughed into the back of his hand, and allowed the water droplets to pour down his soaked body. "How did you know?"

His question was left unanswered, though, as Aemond Targaryen made his way near the edge of water to glance within it.

"Hey, I wouldn't worry about it! Borya's assigned to her, and I saw him going there the second I left with Maya." Oliver yelled after him, and turned his attention back to his friends and brothers.

Not only was Aemond Targaryen worried sick about his friend, but he was now jealous, too.

If Alys' words rang true in his mind, then Borya cared an awful lot more about his girl than it was allowed to.

The green eyed monster ate away at his restless heart, and the Slytherin's knuckles turned white in their empty grip.

For a second, he wished he'd have written his name in the Goblet of Fire, for a chance to be the one to save her now.

Something was wrong.

Although Oliver had sworn he saw Borya approach (Y/N)'s hiding place the moment he left with Maya, the Durmstrang student was yet to come back up.

Even Adrienne Lavigne got to the bottom of the challenge, dragging her Ravenclaw friend out of the water, with a protective arm around her back.

Aemond felt like a caged dragon. Irritable and in a foul disposition. He glanced at his pocket watch once every two seconds, and walked from one end to the other on the robust ledge.

Where was that Durmstrang idiot...?

His silent prayers were answered when a clump of black hair emerged from the water. Borya had floated above, but there was no sight of the girl he was supposed to bring with him.

His hands reached up into the air, and he waved frantically.

"Help! Something is not right with the chains on (Y/N)'s legs! I can't free her!" He shouted in front of the shocked crowd. "Stones won't budge them, and I lost my wand in the sea of gillyweed!"

Aemond didn't need to hear anything else. With one swift movement, he discarded his robes on the floor and took out his aspen wand.

"Aqua Mensa." He swished it decidedly, and jumped into the water without a second thought.

The pain he felt was excruciating - the fins that grew in the stead of his fingers and legs felt worse than a thousand curses, but Aemond tried to pay it no mind.

Soon, his eye adapted to the depth of the water, and his new gills allowed him to breathe again.

"She's near the grindylows, about ten yards from here." He remembered Oliver say, and he started swimming in the direction he knew the girl must have been.

Surely enough, there she was, surrounded by nothing but algae. Aemond felt his heart stop beating, and a sudden pain carved his heart open at the sight of her seemingly endless sleep.

She looked beautiful. Breath-taking. With her eyes closed, she appeared at peace with herself and others; a small smile played upon her swollen lips, as if she knew a secret that she couldn't share with anyone.

Wasting no time, Aemond clutched his wand tightly, and cut through the iron shackles effortlessly, with just a flick of his wrist.

He engulfed the girl into a deep hug, swimming upwards to the rays of sunlight that peaked above both their heads.

And it could have all ended there, were it not for the grindylows that greatly opposed themselves at the sight of their swift departure. One by one, they rose up from their fields of algae, grabbing onto Aemond's feet, pulling him downwards and biting down on him harshly.

They ripped and tarnished, pulling tiny chunks of flesh from Aemond's body - still, the boy never once falthered. He kept the girl close to his chest, protecting her head and limbs with his own, in an attempt to defend her from the perturbing attacks.

Crimson blood pooled all the way up to where the students resided, and horrified gasps echoed all the way to the Professors' ears.

Aemond's hand reached for his wand, and, with the last of his forces, he hissed out the "Ascendio" spell, giving both bodies the last push necessary to reach to the surface.

Bewildered shouts surrounded them, all from a hundred different corners - while some were of a weird congratulatory nature, most seemed scared out of their minds.

Borya pushed through the crowd of students to glance at the two, and assure himself of both their safety. He gave Aemond a wordless bow, and an apologetic look to the girl still resting in his arms.

An army of Professors gathered around them. The school's nurse, Miss Margelle, let out a terrified gasp at the sight of the Targaryen boy, whose legs were in a most pivital position.

Despite there being no more need for it, Aemond never ceased to keep his arms around (Y/N), protecting her head from the hard, damp ledge and caressing her cheeks lightly.

"You're okay." He confirmed in a gentle whisper, wincing at his own pain. He brushed the hair from the girl's face, and rubbed small circles on the small of her back as she coughed out the excess water.

"A-Aemond...!" She uttered through an attempt to gasp for air, dazed and confused by his presence around her. "The Triwizarding Tournament, I --" She tried to explain, but stopped her wordless questions at the sight of the blood pouring at their feet.

"Aemond, you're bleeding out!!" She shrieked, aghast by the sight in front of her. She placed her hands atop Aemond's in an attempt to soothe and calm him, but the boy let out an airy chuckle.

"I'm fine. Hey, hey, look at me." He searched her gaze with his own, lining her jaw upwards. "I'm okay."

"H-How is this okay to you? You must be in so much pain!" She worriedly told him, feeling her lower lip quiver and eyes well up with tears at the sight of her friend's affliction.

She cast her eyes downwards again, and bit her lip in undoubted stress. Her hands fluttered close to his open wounds, but they stilled above them, unsure how to proceed.

While the two were busy bickering and conversing, Nurse Margelle kneeled down to Aemond's level, pulling out her trusting wand and summoning her first aid kit.

Sensing movement behind his back, the Slytherin shook his head, and placed a hand before his body. "Check (Y/N) first. The grindylows might not have bit her, but she still swallowed a lot of water."

"Are you insane?!" The Gryffindor chastised him with an affectionate look in her eyes. "You're bleeding out on the floor, and you're worried about me? Swallowing water?"

"Sweet water is toxic for the body. And you took more than just a mouthful." He asserted dryly, pushing her before his own needs once again.

"Shut up. Absolutely not."

"It's not up to you to decide." Aemond accentuated definitively.

"And thankfully, neither is it up to you, Mr Targaryen!" Nurse Margelle cut in sharply. Her hawk-like eyes assessed the spots in which Aemond likely took the most damage, and got to work right away. His damp shirt was discarded on the floor, and (Y/N) let out another breathless gasp.

"Merlin's beard, Aemond...!"

"I told you..." He began, before he closed his mouth back, in an attempt to hide a wince, "I feel fine. It doesn't hurt."

"Liar." She whispered back to him, whilst she leaned in to give his cheek an affectionate peck.

For a second, Aemond's cheeks matched the colour of the gnarly wounds on his legs and chest.

"T-Thank you. For coming to save me." She huffed out in a low breath, avoiding to meet his scorching eye.

"... Don't mention it."

If it meant getting kissed like that again, Aemond would gladly relive the day's events a thousand times over.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon hogwarts au

[visd3stele]

i just finished episode 5 and OH MY can you please please write something for ser criston? like maybe trying to calm him down after the wedding or something i just JSHPSJSYWCSBMGWGQUGSAA

am i sensing hurt&comfort? YAAAS!

a/n: I think I'm better at pure angst than hurt&comfort, so let me know what you think of this

masterlist ; requests

Soothing stars

As children, you and Criston would climb together in the highest tree near your parents' houses. Each of you trying to be closer to the top than the other.

As teenagers, you and Ser Cole trained together. He would sneak past your parents in the dead of night and teach you all he learned during the day. Sparring, shielding, parring, defence, offence.

As young adults, you traveled to King's Landing together. Him, for a chance to join the kingsguard and bring honor to his name. You... well, you lacked a good reason if you were to be truthful. You just didn't want to marry any of the men your father brought home for you. And parting from your best friend was a thought you couldn't bare even as a suggestion of your imagination.

So here you were now, tailing a proud in the saddle Criston Cole. "Maybe I'll charm a dragon prince, or princess, while we're there." You joked.

"I thought you don't want to marry," Criston turned to shout at you. "And hurry up, we want to make it to the palace in time for the tournament."

"Well, we should have left when I told you to, then. But who decided to be a lazy cunt? That's right! The all mighty knight." You lowered your voice, imitating Criston's timber: "One more day, y/n, I have to be ready and maybe if I train more and am tired when I come home, my dear, sweet, best friend will pack my stuff too."

Criston laughed and a wide smile flourished on your face as it usually happened when he was happy. More importantly, happy because of you. "This is not what happened. I really needed to train more. The best fighters in Westeros will be there. It's not my fault you took pity in me."

"I know, I know," you sighed dramatically, "I have a too good heart for my own good."

Criston slowed his mare until his shoulders were next to yours. Reaching out of his saddle, he put his arm around your neck, bringing you closer so he could smooch a kiss on top of your head. "You, indeed, are, y/n. Please don't let the court change you. Not even when you became queen." He added, winking at you with an amuse licker in his deep, dark eyes.

You shook the heat warming your cheeks. It wasn't the first time Criston kissed you. Growing up together, he has been very affectionate of you. And you with him. But lately, you felt knots twisting in your gut each time you were in his presence. A nest of butterflies releasing inside of them every time he smiled. Or laughed. Or hugged you all sweaty, glistening in the sun after a long match with the other man in town, happy that he won. No matter how friendly, brotherly even, he looked at you, your heart twisted painfully at Criston Cole's sight.

And how could you not have caught feelings? It wasn't just the thickness of his brows framing those impossible dark eyes, the long eyelashes drawing attention to the glimmer in them too, the curl at the corner of his lips, always welcoming in a dear smile, the muscles pulsing beneath his dainty skin. No...

You saw him with other women. You even helped him gain the attention of some. He was so romantic and careful with his lovers. He gifted them small trinkets, plaid them songs under the balcony, risked the wrath of their fathers to take them out on a ride. To the lake, to the clearing in the forest where a river passes through, to the abandoned tower to gaze the stars from its roof.

His romantic antics would be the death of you. His sweet heart, full of love to offer to the right person, always putting so much into even the smallest fling. His soft, bashful smiles when he talked of a lady he fancied a bit too much for your liking. The energy pouring in his voice whenever he talked enthusiastically loud of dreams for a future he shall design.

One that became inexplicabily void of the love he sought.

"Tell me again why you want to enter the kingsguard? I would have thought you a match for the poets with that romantic soul of yours. And every poet needs a muse."

Criston's face darkened then. His father's expectations heavy on his shoulders shadowing his eyes.

"It will bring honor to the Cole's name."

"A name that will end with you."

"But it shall be singed about in tales of bravery and honor for ages to come. If I am the last in my house, then I will make it to be a worthy, meaningful one."

You bit your lips, letting your eyes drift to the side of your horse as silence fell around the two of you. Your pulse picked up, burdened by your heavy heart. You didn't want to hurt him. But you didn't want to lose him either. And lost will he be with the White Swords.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The court had been different that what you expected. Grimmer. No amount of brilliant gold, rich clothes or delicious food could make the nobles pleasant. You took a job in the kitchens, finally putting all the years your mother insisted to have you learn to cook to make a good wife to good use. One that benefitted you.

In the heart of the gossips - as the kitchens were the point where servants gathered to catch their breath - you learned many secrets of the lords and ladies of the palace.

They, the cooks, the maids, the pages, have taken you in like a member of their large, supporting family. It helped you when Ser Cole made less and less time for you.

"Gossip isn't a good attribute for a knight. Even more so a White Cloak."

He never cut you off like that. Not until now. You used to tell him everything your friends let loose when you got together to sew. The talks, and the laughs you got from them, made the wifey duties more bearable. To the point where you started to enjoy the sewing, the cooking, the field labor and the cleaning. See them as abilities for your own self rather than things you owed to a man.

And Criston has been such a pilon in your self discoveries. Always eager to hear you rant - first filling him in on the story at hand, then offering your own analyze of it. "But at the end of the day, it's their lives," it was the ending line of all of your statements. Criston would scrunch his nose and knit his brows, trying to understand why you spent so much time thinking about matter you have no care for.

But he never judged. He lowered his head in your lap, letting you stroke his hair as you spoke and enjoyed the sound of your voice, the spark in your eyes.

When he first turned you away in his new uniform as kingsguard, you thinned your lips, nodded and left with a bowed head. Maybe the the crouched position would salvage some of your stabbed heart.

It didn't end there. The first weeks nothing changed. He trained more, yes, but his nights were all yours. To share impressions of the court, to talk about your new lives, to joke and make the cold palace a home. Then he was welcomed in the guard and took shifts around the castle's grounds. Each spare time, lesser and lesser, was spent in your presence.

Almost every woman - and some men as well - swooned over your best friend. They'd trail you around, asking about Ser Criston and the nature of your relationship.

"I can't even imagine your hurt," one of the friends you made shook her head in sympathy. "To lose your lover to the realm. You are so brave and loyal."

You didn't tell her Criston has never been your lover. The pain was the same. And the thought sooth it a bit.

Now, Ser Cole barely had any time for you. You considered yourself lucky if you could catch a moment with him in the kitchen when, each morning, the knight came for a rushed meal. The lead cook always let you pack Criston's lunch. A small solace as you were losing your best friend.

Stolen looks, packed food, quick chats and waved hands compiled all the interaction you had left with your best friend. It grounded you, though. Knowing he still cared, even though his duty worked its hardest to take him from you. And being the only one he willingly, without any obligation - bound by manners or commitment - offered his time, love and attention to.

Until a new friendship bloomed on the grounds of Westeros' kings home. Princess Rhaenyra, the realm's delight, the heir to the throne, thus Criston's future patron, absorbed your best friend.

"Do you think there's anything more between the princess and her guard?" A mean voice suggested once, when the kitchens were full, readying the food for a banquet.

"Don't be ridiculous," you forced your voice void of any jealousy or longing. Just an amused tone, a bit patronizing as you knew Ser Cole the best. "They are friends."

"They seem closer than."

"Well, they're not. This is just how Criston is. Kind and close to his good friends."

The lead cook came to your rescue, noticing the bowled fist around the knife you were holding. "As you know, the princess is a friendly soul too. She has just lost Lady Alicent, a friend for so long, to her father. Ser Cole is right to offer princess Rhaenyra another chance at normalcy in her young age."

Yes, you thought bitterly, the good knight in shining armor to save the princess.

You didn't want to be mad at the princess. Rhaenyra hasn't been named the realm's delight for naught. An aura around her as bright as her Targaryen hair, unbending will as the gems her purple eyes were cut from, the heir was simply as magical as the blood of Velarys was rumored to be.

No wonder Criston has fallen for her. Because, despite your words, you knew he harbored more than platonic feelings for the princess. After all you could read him better than anyone, sense the difference between love and friendship in his demeanor better than everyone. You witnessed it and have been at the receiving end of it for all your life.

You covered for him as much as you could: dismissing the yarning gazes some pages noticed, assuring them the fierce protection Criston showed for the princess belonged solely to his knightly duties, smothering the talks around the maids and servants that surfaced anytime Rhaenyra and Criston were spotted together, laughing.

But one night, you couldn't help Ser Cole no more. The talk spreaded like a swift seaside breeze, carrying Criston's dishonor around the palace as waves bring algae to shore. The knight has been seen sneaking from the princess' chambers, late under the cloak of dreaming lords and ladies. But servants never sleep.

"Imbecile," you muttered under your breath as soon as you heard. You wouldn't let the pang in your heart take breadth. Not when it could be hidden by the furious worries of a good friend.

That same night, while Ser Cole laid still awake in his bed reminiscing the eventful moments that led to his blissed out state, you knocked loudly at his door.

You heard him groan on the other side which earned a roll of your eyes.

"Y/n?" Criston finally opened your door. You pushed him inside and locked it.

"What have you done, you fool?! The whole palace is vibrating with your vicissitudes." A hit of your palms landed on his chest punctuating each and every word.

The glare in your eyes diminished at the sight of Criston growing paler and paler under the storm of your news. If a worn out beatitude grazed his pupils seconds ago, how horror filled his orbs. The realization of what he has done seemed to settle in. He took several steps back, collapsing on the edge of the bed.

"The whole palace... my acts..." he mumbled incoherently. "What have I done?"

"That is what I would like to know as well," you hummed, not yet so touched by his distress that you wouldn't hold him accountable over his idiocy.

"My vows..." A chocked whisper, banging off the quiet walls. "No, no, no, y/n, I had one job and I screwed it all up.

"Well, that was one choice of words," you couldn't help but taunt him. As much as you loved Criston, you had to admit he had issues he needed to sort out. He has always been like this: acting without thinking then wallowing in self pity until all is forgotten and he can move on.

There would be no moving on if king finds out.

"Y/n," Criston begged of you in a small voice. Not entirely sure himself what he asked for. Mercy, to spare him of the cruel voice of reason you always have been for him? Comfort, to hug him and assure him everything will be alright? Or help, silencing the dangerous voices within the dragons' layer?

You breathed a long, resigned sigh as you sat down next to him. A silly man he may be sometimes, but he was your silly.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Time flew by in a whim of fate. Your days looked all the same: wake up, work, sleep, repeat. At least you haven't heard anything about Ser Cole's affairs. You hadn't seen much of him either, but you felt oddly content. His place as kingsguard was safe, his honor intact. He grew careful in his interactions with the princess. Criston tried to work on himself and his mistakes and you were so damn proud of him!... even if it meant less time around your best friend.

But then the illusion of progress and a better man broke. It was the celebration of Rhaenyra's wedding when you stumbled outside the hot kitchen for a needed breath of cold, fresh air. You walked a few steps to stretch your legs, cracking every stiff joint in your body. As soon as you finished a plate, another order arrived. The tables, especially the ones of desert, were wolfed out by too many guests for your peace of mind.

"Flaunty nobles," you whined, face towards the sky with closed eyes as you rolled your body as far back as you could, snapping the strain from your limbs.

You were about to make your way back when a ragged sob caught your attention. "Criston?" Your best friend, knelt on the grass under the starry night, had a sword positioned to spear through his chest at one swift push of his wrists. "What in seven kingdoms are you doing?"

There was no time to cringe at how much you sounded like your mother, nor to make assumptions of the Ser Cole's motives. Mind empty, you let your body take control. In a second of haste, you were by his side, stopped in your tracks mere centimeters away, hands sprawled forward. A gesture you hoped would temper him.

"I have broken my vows, y/n. Dishonored my name. I was supposed to bring dignity and respect to my house and instead I repeatedly fallen in forbidden sin. I deserve to die."

You ignored the ache snaking in your heart, but you couldn't let the disappointment slide. Repeatedly. He has laid with princess Rhaenyra even after you told him the word got out. Even after the crushing weight of guilt broke him that night right in front of you. Has he forgotten it all? The reason he left home, the reason he gave up his dreams of marriage and children. Could he not restrain himself?

If he wanted to, Criston would have. You knew it as you knew the sky is blue and fire burns quickly and trimly. But he wanted the princess more.

Anger like you never felt before munched on your insides. Something else too. Betrayal. How dare he feel sorry for himself when you did everything you could to help him achieve his dreams? He sabotaged it, counting on you to clean up his mess. He...

You took one long breath of air inside your heated lungs. Taming the hurt and fury, you kneeled next to Criston, doing what you always did best. Being his keeper.

Softly but surely, you prayed his fingers open, taking the sowrd's handle in your own. Criston protested weakly, scared that if he moved too largely and intently he might end up cutting you. Little did he know he has already done so.

"Listen to me, Criston. No one knows. Only the servants talk of it and even them... all they have are speculations."

"I confessed."

You blinked. Once. Twice. Taken aback.

"To whom?"

"The queen. I- I asked Rhaenyra to run with me. Build a new life in Esos. She refused..." Criston trailed off, his tighten throat unable to sustain his voice any longer.

You hide the grimace off your face at the image of him and the princess together in a small, homey house far away from the ordeal that was the court.

"You wanted to leave?"

"Tonight. I had to, y/n. I am no knight worthy of this cape. It was the only right thing to do."

Leaving. Without you. Not even telling you a single word of parting.

Your eyes hardened, void of any compassion. When you spoke your voice was hoarse. Cold. "You have to forgive yourself, Criston. The queen pardoned you, did she not? You wouldn't be here if she hasn't..."

"I asked her the mercy of choosing my death. By my hands."

"Then you shall ask her the mercy of sending you home. To take your sword instead of your life."

"But..."

"No, Criston. It's well due time you listen to me. You are an amazing fighter and the finest swordsman in all the seven kingdoms. But you are not cut for being a kingsguard. And that's alright. In fact, it's more than alright."

Now that the sharp weapon laid on the grass at your side, you crawled closer to Ser Cole, cupping his face and bringing his gaze into yours.

"You have a grand heart. One that follows love against all odds or consciousness. You feel so much and true it's a miracle you haven't bled out from your pores already with how much your heart pours in this world. You made some vows you couldn't keep, but it doesn't make you a failure. It makes you stubborn, as you knew this isn't what you wanted. And hard headed. Which would be fine, too, if you wouldn't beat yourself so harshly.

You should have been true to yourself, Criston. Because you always knew what you wanted and it's not this. Any of these. It's a warm home with a woman you love and kids running around. Growing horses in your stables and teaching them to ride." You smiled. Many times you have pictured yourself as the woman in his home, your kids giggling as they learned to sit in the saddles.

"It's a beautiful wish. An accomplished life because it makes you happy. And it's not less worthy than the noble solitude of a knight. It's precious and important just because it matters so much to you and that is what life is all about. Chasing happiness.

I know you don't want to hear it, but I'll tell you anyway. These nobles? These rich, entitled lords and ladies that have everything the need and so much more, aren't happy. They scheem and stab each others in the back, all to gain a bit more. Never enough, never fulfilled. They have to sleep one eyed open and hire knights like you to watch their backs and in the end they die wishing they could have lived because no amount of coins or political advantages will keep them company in the last sleep."

As silence surrounded you two, you regained your breath. You have spoken in earnest, letting all the pent up emotions paint Ser Cole an image he would believe, understand and never forget. The ice in your voice melted halfway through your speech, putting in front of Criston all the pain, broken winged hope, ire and love you strangled between your vocal chords for so long.

Tears glistened in your eyes under the shy light of the moon. Your cold fingers shoveled red marks in Criston's cheeks. "Sorry," you whispered hoarsely, shoving your gaze from his.

But Cole immediately gripped your wrists, keeping your hands in place. He searched your eyes until your looks locked again into each other.

Doubt still lingered in the pit of his orbs. He has been told he need to earn his worth in battles, give his name a meaning, his whole life. Now you throw it all upside down. He wanted to believe you. He didn't know how to.

You closed the gap between, touching your forehead to his. As on cue, both of you closed your eyes. "You tried. You can't be a man you're not. But you tried. That's all you owed to do. And now you owe it to yourself to be yourself."

"I don't even know who that is, y/n."

"A good man. A romantic soul. A good fighter, but not a kingsguard. A loyal friend, even though oblivious and stepping astray sometimes. And so much more you need but to let yourself discover."

Criston sighed. The brush of air over your lips sent shivers down your spine. You felt him shift, bringing you even closer, if that was human possible. One of his hands climbed to the back of your neck, The other rose to cover your palm still on his cheek. A feather light touch of his lips to your wrist. A tilt of his head promising your mouth the same gift.

You dreamt of it for so long. A kiss. Maybe some more. A love with Criston Cole.

You pulled away.

You snatched your hand from under his, pressing them both on his chest. You couldn't do it. It wasn't right. Not now.

"Sorry," Criston jumped as if a bucked of cold water emptied on his heated body disturbed a beautiful dream. "I don't know what has gotten into me. Shit! Y/n, I'm so sorry."

You shook your head. "Don't be. You're vulnerable now. I helped you. It's normal to feel this way." The sad timber in your voice didn't escape Ser Cole.

"How do you know it's only because..."

"I don't. Apparently neither do you. Its just, well, you are the one who needs to figure it out. I did for myself," you explained, kissing lightly his cheek and getting up. "Let me know when you're sure. I'll be waiting. And in the meantime I will keep being your friend. Skies knows how much you need me."

Criston laughed. For the first time in months, you taunted him and he laughed. It felt so good, a promise things might return to normal between the two of you. And maybe some more than what your relationship used to be.

"You're right. I do need you. I can't believe the notice has escaped me so far."

"You can be a bit slow yourself, Ser Cole, but I knew you'll come around... eventually."

You returned to your post in the kitchen, leaving Ser Cole to work around his own service. Hope fluttered in your chest for the first time in so long. And a girlish chuckle left your mouth as the last words you heard before entering the palace again were Criston's dreamy "I couldn't be happier that I did."

#ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #ser criston #criston cole x reader #criston cole #my writing #my wriitng #my words #my fic ideas #my fic #my fic writing

[fizzyfizu]

Accursed in the Lake’s Depths

Chapter 1.1 : A Late Start

Harry J. Potter / reader

MASTERLIST : The Archives.. ⊲ previous ༄.˚₊ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ₊˚.༄ next ⊳

      Deafening cheers could be heard.  Harry struggled to organise his thoughts as he ran as quickly as he could manage; he was woken up only 10 minutes before the task started.  Eventually making it to a wooden platform that creaked every step he took, the platform hung over the Black Lake slightly.

      On it stood a long table, and draped over it was a gold, intricately designed fabric, with tassles hanging by the corners; clearly this was the judges table—evident by the quills, ink pots, and parchment, among other things littered across it.  

      Harry also spotted the 3 other contestants (Cedric, Fleur, and Krum) preparing themselves for the upcoming task on the other end of the table.

      His eyes swept the stands for familiar faces, specifically a certain bright haired ginger and bushy haired brunette.  Having no luck in finding his 2 closest friends–he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of hurt deep down, and he could feel his morale dwindle.  

      So as to distract himself, he shifts his focus onto the waters.  The soft waves in the Black Lake did him no favours, only helping in worsening his nervousness.  

      Gillyweed in hand, courtesy of Dobby (who says that he overheard some teachers discussing the task and followed a student, Harry guesses it was Neville, around to get the gillyweed), Harry began to let his mind wander to Merlin knows what.  Thoughts of whatever item they took that is dear to him being forever lost to the Black Lake made him even more nervous, not wanting to lose something he treasured a lot..like his precious firebolt. 

      A voice boomed throughout the venue, and Harry identified it as Ludo Bagman. “With all the champions present, the second task of the triwizard tournament shall commence!  Now, now, where’s all the noise for your representatives?!" Soon after Bagman said that last line,  the already deafening cheers doubled—no, quadrupled in volume. 

      “Hahah!”  Bagman cracked a hearty laugh, “That's more like it!  Now, allow me to introduce the mechanics..” Bagman moved his wand away from his mouth then cleared his throat before pointing his wand back to its original position once more.  Bagman’s wand seemed to act as a microphone, but Harry had missed the incantation that Bagman had used as the crowd drowned his voice out prior to the charm. 

      “For the second task, the champions will each have 1 hour to dive into the Black Lake and search its depths for something that they hold dear to them..”, Harry gulped as felt a cold sweat wash over him. “On my count, all 4 of them shall start their search.  Excuse us as we give the champions a few minutes more to prepare..but!  While they do that, how about I hear from the lovely students of beauxbatons!” Bagman continued to get the crowd even more excited, if possible.  

      Harry noticed this and thought, “Honestly they are as excited as one can get..anymore and they might just explode from the adrenaline.  Mark my words.”.  But regardless he was thankful for Bagman’s stalling as it bought him some time to think about his game plan properly.  Reaching into his trouser pockets, Harry pulled out the slimy ball of gillyweed—it looked as unappetizing, and borderline inedible to be frank, as ever.  Pushing down his urge to throw up at its stench and looks, he shoves it back into his pocket and proceeds to rid himself of unnecessary items he had on him, getting ready to enter the waters.

      Harry would be lying if he said he was fine, because these temperatures paired with the cold winds felt like a message from Merlin telling him that, no, something will be going horribly wrong, and you won't even feel comfortable while it happens thanks to the freezing temperatures.  

      The cold on the surface was unbearable and he could only imagine what the waters felt like.  With his left fist gripping the ball of gillyweed, his wand in his right pocket, and his glasses which are now enchanted to stay on no matter what, Harry..Harry still felt severely unprepared.

A/N: Hello!! Im new to writing so I hope that this was ok ^^, Im splitting this chapter into 3 seperate posts because it got too long for my liking 😭😭

#harry potter x reader #hjp x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter x reader #slow burn #strangers to friends #friends to lovers #fluff #goblet of fire #triwizard tournament #golden trio era #harry potter #fem!reader #female reader #hufflepuff #hufflepuff reader #hufflepuff!reader #i am going insane #black lake #hogwarts castle #The Water's Depths—Accursed in the Lake's Depths ₊˚.༄

[hsmtmts-arrows]

Camp Shallow Lake

Jet looked on at the faded sign as he listened to Kourt on the phone. She was taking little Mo to her soccer game, Jet would meet them at the field, once he collected their youngest from camp.

Jet had called ahead to ask Dewey for permission to steal away his child to attend her sister's soccer tournament. The old man still ran the camp with all the enthusiasm of a toad in winter, claiming he was happy to be rid of the gremlin for the day.

"hey, Kourt? Monique plays in game 2 right?" He asked as he spotted his daughter coming out of the Honeycomb.

"yeah? Is there traffic?"

"no, no traffic, I think we just need to take a detour"

"......today? Are you sure?"

"yeah, I think so."

".....ok, see you soon"

Jet pocketed the phone and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Hey Squirt! Come over here!"

"DADDY!"

Jet laughed as he stumbled back with his daughter. She took the opportunity to scramble onto his shoulders, resting her head on his.

"Soccer game!"

"Soon kiddo, Dad needs to show you something first"

And with that, they began the short hike to the old Susan Fine shrine, long since decommissioned and overgrown. No amount of time on earth could erase the path from behind his eyes though. Looking around, he could almost make out the shape of his own frolicking and chasing. Following the spirit of his childhood here, he trekked forward.

Past that stone, around that tree, down this ledge, before long the clearing appeared, flat stones stacked in the middle, just as they were years ago, if a little more mossy.

"Dad?.......Forest?"

He looked to where he had placed his daughter. He'd entertained her along the way with trivia about the flora and fauna around them. But she had a knack for reading him, always had. Just another similarity to list.

The nature of children lends to plenty of comparisons, her mother's skin, his hair, her Grammy Greene's taste in music.....

But those eyes.....those eyes gazed back at him now just as they did twenty years ago. Asking to explain, he's acting different than usual. He didn't answer them then.....

.

.

.

Today he will. As he gently took her hand and directed her around the stone pile, to the backside that housed a new stone. Clean and sturdy, not stained by the Ash from the fire that closed the camp for two years. Each inch meticulously and lovingly carved and cleaned, so that the inscription is as clear now as the day it was placed. He looked at her namesake.

"Maddie......this is your Aunt"

OH WHAT FHE FUCK WHY DID I UUST READ THIS I-

[bagelrites]

Have you ever had a fanfiction idea you knew was great but didn't have the time/courage/patience to write ? What would be the backbones of it and what scene in particular would you still like to see written one day ?

So my problem is that when I think of a fan fiction idea even if I have 20 other wips I still somehow think I will do it someday. There is one big fic idea that I had that I have pretty much given up on though, and that's the Squid Game AU. Obviously I thought of it when the DTeam were playing in the Squid Game tournament, and the premise would be that George and Sapnap are contestants who very early on become friends and form an alliance, and Dream is a guard who keeps somehow ending up in situations where he has to talk to George, and they start falling in love. There'd be a lot of complicated feelings, but in the end George escapes with Dream because in that final game he doesn't actually get shot when he loses (I think Dream would have gotten some of the other guards on his side,) but he plays dead until the field is cleared and then Dream comes and whisks him away and they escape on a boat together. George is kind of sad about leaving Sapnap behind, but he has a feeling he's going to win, and he's right of course.

I don't think I'll write more or a shortened version or anything one day. I had so little of it written, in fact, I could actually share everything I wrote here right now, so I'll put it below the cut :)

This was the opening:

George liked the blue hue of his jumper. He’d been told it was turquoise, actually, but it looked a grayish blue to him, cool and muted, like the still face of a lake reflecting the sky. The white stripes could be clouds, perhaps. The numbers over his heart the ripples of a fish flipping from the water, or perhaps the pearly feathers of an egret in flight.

And yes, technically it was a prisoner’s uniform, but George felt it was important to find comforts even—or perhaps especially—in circumstances such as these.

The dormitory was spacious, in its own way. The beds were stacked three layers high, but the mattresses weren’t terribly thin, and there was a wealth of free space opposite the bunks, plenty of room for all two hundred competitors to mingle together, or else find some corner to sulk in alone. The white walls were bright, too, and the ceilings were high.

George supposed if this was the room he was destined to sleep his last night in, at least it was clean and airy. Better than rotting away in a cramped prison cell, right?

He rolled from his side onto his back, staring up at the cross-beams holding up the mattress above him. It had been about an hour or so since they let the competitors into the dorm, and so far there was no word as to when the games would begin. George had been trying to nap in his bunk to wait it out, but everyone else was being far too talkative, and the din of voices kept him awake. Finally, he got antsy enough to get up, deciding to take a stroll around the room and scope out his competitors.

Not that he really thought it would help him win. He didn’t quite plan to do that. Didn't see the point in trying, if he was honest. If he won, he won. If he didn’t…

Then I had a few scenes of dialogue jotted down. First George teasing Dream:

“Why did you say that?”

“Say what?”

“That you trust me.”

“Oh. I don’t know. You’re fun to mess with.”

Dream looked away.

“George, you don’t even know me.”

“You could change that.”

“George—” Dream sputtered, and George giggled. He sounded so cute when he was flustered.

“You’re already talking to me. That’s a step in the right direction.”

Dream froze, and didn’t make any reply. George wished he could see behind his mask, see if he was angry, or scared, or just flushed from embarrassment. He was betting on the latter. “Oh, now you’re all quiet.”

And then here's George seeing Dream's face for the first time:

“Wow, you’re—” George paused, face flushing. “Nothing.”

“I’m nothing?” Dream chuckled.

“No, I mean—I mean you’re, um…” his mind raced for the right word, the least embarrassing word. “Handsome?”

“Oh, I am?” Dream leaned closer, smirking, and George covered his face with his hands.

“No, I meant hot! You’re hot!” he said, muffled into his palms.

Dream just laughed, the sound light and lovely and adoring, and George melted under the warmth of it.

And finally some George + Sapnap dialogue:

“Why do you think you’re gonna win?”

“Because I have to. I have to think it,” Sapnap said. “If I don’t think I can win, then I know I’ll die. You know?” 

George hummed.

“I think you might actually do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I just… have this feeling that you’re gonna go all the way,” George said.

“Well, then I want you to go all the way with me.”

George smiled and couldn’t help snickering a little at that.

“What? I mean it.”

“Oh, c’mon. You know what that sounded like.”

#fic wip #my writing #dream team #dnf #answered ask