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lilallama · 3 years

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(Sorry if I spell something wrongly lol) Idk, This is my opinion? Gryffindor, Jungkook. Hufflepuff, Taehyung & Yoongi. Ravenclaw, Namjoon & Jin. Slytherin, Jimin & Hobi??? I literally just searched the meaning of each house and just picked one based on the personality shown. Also, If you don't think this matches them, Sorry ;-;

[Don't worry, sweetie ^^. You don't have to apologise! 💕🍑]

Hoseok is a lot more two faced than I actually tend to show. The way he presents himself is mostly a mask. While he seems mostly calm on the outside, he's actually quite the opposite on the inside. Out of all the boys it'd be easiest for him to manipulate/influence Y/n (@bangtans-apollo Tae is quacking-) and he's aware of that. That's one of the reasons why they started the club 1. To protect Y/n, 2. The club concept came because it'd be easier to meet up and they would automatically get a clubroom and 3. Hoseok threatened to tell on them if they don't join, he'd make Y/n despise each one of them.

He is a strong leader (one of the Slytherin traits), I try to make him resourceful (but I am not myself so that might not shine through too much), he is definitely cunning. The whole ordeal with wanting to be with Y/n no matter what is pretty ambitious, I'd say. And lastly the traditionalism trait, he is very into tradition and has to keep his domestic fantasies with Y/n a secret. His parents raised him very traditional, he would hate it if (female) Y/n would ask him out first or would propose first and would at first frown upon his attention to (male or non binary) Y/n.

All in all Slytherin seems very accurate.

Now concerning Jimin; similar to Hoseok he too can be a two faced snake. He doesn't hide his true thoughts from Y/n or the boys, if anything he overshares sometimes (one time he started talking to Taehyung about some... rather inappropriate things concerning Y/n. That got his Y/n privilege taken away for a whole month). And despite practically pleading to be the "dumb bimbo" stereotype, he is surprisingly clever and intelligent. Before Highschool, before he made his first experiences with popular boys, he was a straight A's and B's student. Yet once he had his first boyfriend, he discovered that the people surrounding him typically preferred the dumb blondes. (He actually broke up with the captain of the football team for Y/n.)

He also sometimes displays ambitious, just in a whiney sort of way. Self preservation is definitely something. Unlike Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon or Jeongguk, he wouldn't let himself be killed for Y/n's sake. If Y/n were to be killed he would end up deluding himself into thinking a person who looks similar to them is them and would force Y/n's personality and style on them. Cunningness is 100% accurate. He's fake. He pretends to be a silly sweetheart who loves everyone but will spread rumours about you, blame things on you etc. and everyone believes him. His cunningness concerning Y/n is more whiney than anything.

So I do think Jimin fits Slytherin.

Namjoon was raised by strict parents who forbade him a tremendous amount of things and painted his world for him. It was engraved in his head, he was going to be the CEO of their company one day. Yet despite everything he still had a head of his own. Maye it was because if his high IQ that he understood that his parents weren't the only opinion in his life. Don't get me wrong, they still left him scarred (sadly literally, as his father once hit him bloody) and traumatised but not without a mind of his own. Ever since he was small creativity and originality was something he admired and loved. It was partly reason of why he fell for Y/n, their individuality, their mind, their heart, their soul.

We will not need to discuss intelligence, it's a trait he undoubtedly has. He is always willing to learn and showed interest in many different things before Y/n captured his focus. He is most likely one of the wisest members as he is aware of how twisted his love for them truly is (once again something I tend to fail at portraying) and tried to stop it when it started. But somehow that only made everything worse and by now he doesn't care anymore at all. When he was a child he used to be more openly curious than nowadays (as it caused him many punishments from his parents).

I feel that Namjoon would fit Ravenclaw.

Seokjin was spoiled all his life. His parents adored him, other kids adored him, everyone adored him. While he might've acted oblivious he knew that it's because of his money. Similar to Jimin, Seokjin changed when he entered high school. While he always was a pretty intelligent and well behaved student (still very arrogant though) he then became less concerned with studies and once made a teacher cry (that was before he met Y/n). He loves standing out as an individual, that includes making anyone change who crosses his path with the same outfit (not in school as they wear a school uniform. But outside, yes, he has that much power. Everyone knows Kim Seokjin).

As said before, Seokjin is far from stupid. He is a very intelligent individual but doesn't show the extent of his nolage. Instead aiming for a cool "Queen B" persona. He is witty with his comebacks (something I cannot write because I do not possess that superpower), he's quick with his words. He holds respect for people who are 60+ years old as he believes they've been through a lot in life already. These people have wisdom he could only gain by experience and that he respects (there is one very sweet lady that lives alone in a very big mansion a few streets away from his penthouse. He always visits her because he loves her genuine kindness. When he met Y/n she recently passed away and he saw a part of her in them).

Seokjin could qualify for a Ravenclaw.

Taehyung was raised by a very Christian family that he still cherishes very much. Because of their intense belief he was raised to worship. He never fell in love, so when Y/n crossed paths with his, he started showing love how he's used to it (Out of all the boys Taehyung is straight up insane. Something in his brain might be wired wrong, there is no explanation on why he likes them, on why he believed that's what love is because his parents treated him with normal, familiar love. So he is simply sick, there is no "saving" him. He's better of in a mental hospital). But he was always a very kind boy. Giving instead of taking, never wanting anything in return. Out of everyone, Taehyung was the one who welcomed new students and made tons of friends. But he grew out of it as his focus turned to art. He aimed to make his parents proud so he didn't have time for friends.

His loyalty is unlike any other. You could torture him half dead and he'd still forgive you, stay loyal to you, serve you. He is Y/n's servant. He works hard on improving his artistic abilities and also to maintain fairly good grades. For Y/n any labour he'd have to be put through would seem like a blessing. Another trait for Hufflepuff would be fairness and he surely is fair. As one of the least jealous members of the club he really only cares if Y/n's okay with what's happening or could get hurt (he always kets the other members have more privileges than he has because he believes it'd be not only greedy but prideful to want Y/n to hinself. He avoids any sin when it comes to Y/n, envy, wrath, pride, sloth, nothing will ever come near his modern day Jesus).

Taehyung definitely is a Hufflepuff.

If the boy who works two parttime jobs, to pay for rent, bills and food, cleans the shabby apartment by himself because his alcoholic mother is busy messing it up again, yet still treats his mother with kindness, only to be treated like trash by seven more powerful and successful guys in his school who all like the same person he does and still manages to maintain the position as intern and honour roll student at a prestigious school for roch people, isn't in Hufflepuff then I don't know what. This poor soul is incredibly sensitive and kind. He isn't judgemental (as he himself is used to people judging him). All round very sweet.

I think it's very clear that he's very diligent and hard working. He holds great passion for music and enjoys writing poetry, a very sensitive soul. Yoongi isn't someone to complain about something being unfair (cough cough Jimin cough cough) or try and steal Y/n away from them. His day dreams consist of imagining Y/n liking him back, but he is certain that would never happen (according to you guys, it seems a lot of you would pick Yoongi if you'd get to decide). Not only is Yoongi kind but loyal as well, he'd never imagine leaving anyone behind even his useless mother.

Yoongi is 1000% a Hufflepuff.

Jeongguk tends to be hot tempered, he goes from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. Everything in life seems like a challenge to prove he's better than others think (his father was a notorious serial killer who killed twenty one people yet got away with a ten year prison sentence and got released after six, ten months later Jeongguk was born). In truth he did not care for anyone else, only Y/n. So all tge chivalry he could muster was directed at them.

He is one brave guy who doesn't get easily scared (I guess living with as well as being a serial killer at sixteen years old desensitised him). Jeongguk is courageous just not in/for a positive way/purpose. He deluted himself into thinking that Y/n needs protection, HIS protection. He once attacked a teacher because they were helping Y/n with a question, that's very daring (more like stupid) just not in a good way. A (still not) more positive example of his daringness is when he wants to impress Y/n. He hung from a skyscraper for five minutes doing pullups, just to inpress them. One time he also jumped across his luxurious pool at home (and almost slipped, almost bashing his head in) just to prove that he can jump further than someone they talked about.

I could very much picture him as a Griffendor.

If you enjoyed reading my work, please consider reblogging it. Thank you for reading

#yandere bts #cooking club #hogwarts au #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere hoseok #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #harry potter au

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babbushka · 4 years

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Beautiful, Beloved (5/8)

You had met three times: The first, an introduction. The second, a lunch. The third, your wedding. Can bonds be made in such short a time as a week long honeymoon aboard the immensely impressive RMS Titanic?

Yes, yes they can.

Titanic!AU Kylo Ren x Reader

7.5k ; Warnings: NSFW, mentions of imperialism and war, mentions of violence/murder, mild angst.

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The trip so far had been, in a word, magical. You were starting to wonder if there were any other way to really describe it, being with Kylo. He was so charming, with the way he championed you at every opportunity, spoke so highly of you and your causes. He was so funny, with his quick jokes and scathing remarks half-hidden behind tall champagne glasses. And he was intelligent, calculating and cunning and so smart, smart in a way that many of the other first class passengers hoped they seemed to be. They were all peacocks though, empty words and haughty laughs at quick criticisms that went over their heads.

Not your Kylo. No, he was a true gentleman in every sense of the word, accompanying you through the ship in the following days.

Time seemed to fly faster than the ship sailed through the sea, you thought to yourself as you rustled the sheets gently. You and Kylo had been aboard the ship for four whole days, four days filled with explorations and parties and dinners galore. You were the talk of the town, as it were, between your expensive Worth gowns and your husband’s reputation.

You paid the latter no mind, and instead spent most of your time seeing all that the Titanic had to offer.

He had taken you to the squash court just as promised, and you met up with your dear friend Lady Hux to watch a raucous few games between some of the sportsmen aboard. While the men grew competitive on the floor of G-deck, you and your husbands watched eagerly and made bets up on F-deck in luxury.

Aside from the games, you also enjoyed time in the pool. A part of the Turkish bath spa complex aboard F-deck, you had yourself a good soak before the two of you indulged in a couple’s massage that had left you more relaxed than ever before.

You visited all the restaurants and cafes available to you, the Veranda and Palm courts especially thrilled you with their greenery. Recent memories of tea on the Promenade, shows and card games and dances to orchestras filled your head. You liked being on the ship, it was a true marvel of course, but you longed for some green, and were excited to be surrounded by Earth once again when the ship was set to dock in merely only three more days.

How had the time passed, you wondered? It was too strange, how you would fall asleep and wake up in the night only to see the clock had gone backwards. Was it a deliberate trick of the captain? Or were you simply suffering cabin fever?

No, you chuckled to yourself, you were sure there was a reason for it. The ocean had its mysteries, but surely time travel was not one of them. You allowed your mind to wander about docking in New York, allowed yourself to think about all the things Kylo had promised.

The parties at the Waldorf-Astoria, the flowers from Union Square, the sheep in Prospect Park. You imagined his face staring up at the marvels of the skyscrapers, towering an incredible sixty stories tall!

Now though, you laid side by side in bed. His face was so peaceful like this, in sleep. You felt badly for him, even though this was his honeymoon he was still so stressed, so many thoughts running through his head. You could practically feel them, when you lifted your hand up and carded it through his beautiful silken locks. You tried to imagine him in the fashionable short cut, and found you couldn’t. There were many things you tried to imagine your husband as, but none of them could ever really compare to what he was.

He blinked awake slowly, like a cat who did not wish to really get up from his nap. He stretched his long strong limbs out, and in shaking away the dreams from his bones, he wrangled you into his arms, trapped you in his sleep-warm embrace.

“Good morning my darling.” You tucked a stray lock of hair which curled against his cheek so lovingly, back behind his ear. He no longer scowled at the movement, and you considered this a personal victory.

“Is it truly morning? I cannot tell if I am dreaming still, for you are so lovely.” His voice is exceptionally deep with sleep as he rolled you on top of him, he laid flat on his back, his chin tucking down against his chest to see you properly. His eyes are smiling, even if he’s not yet a morning person.

You took the opportunity to sit up and straddle him. The blanket and sheets slipped down your naked body as your hands rubbed coaxing circles on his hard stomach and defined pecs.

“Shall I help you realize how real I am?” You whispered, your hair falling around your face in a way you hoped was enticing.

From the way Kylo’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment and opened with renewed attention and lust, you knew it had.

“Oh if I could be so lucky to be graced by Heaven’s touch.” He licked his lips, his hands abandoning your waist to slide up your chest and cup your breasts handsomely.

“Mmm,” You leaned into the touch, arched your back and expanded your rib cage so that he might get a better grasp of them. You sighed happily, feeling his morning wood pressing against your inner thigh where your legs were spread around his thick hips, “Speaking of which, it’s Sunday. Will you be making an appearance at the services?”

“I care very little for sermons and would much prefer my worship to take place in…private.” Kylo shook his head, the comparison making you laugh brightly, your head tipping back slightly as you lifted yourself onto your knees above him

“That can be arranged.” You moaned softly, lowering yourself on his hard cock.

He looked unfairly delicious like this, you thought. Every single one of his defined and developed muscles flexed and pulled underneath his scar-ridden skin, it was a sight to behold, the sheen of sweat which made him glow from within.

“Damn, (Y/N), damn you’re gorgeous.” Kylo grumbled, chest tensing and fluttering underneath you. His thighs were enormous, so muscular. Legs perfect for bracketing your own body, with the way they bent at the knee to provide you better leverage.

“Kylo – oh!” You smacked his stomach playfully as he used that leverage to buck up into you, his cock shoving up up up into your pussy, making you yelp out in pleasure. “Oh please, please do that again!”

You’d grown so used to this, this sight underneath you above you behind you around you consuming you – it was the only way you ever wanted to start the day. And so you moaned, not caring of the thickness of the walls, not caring of those passing by your suite en route to church, not caring about uanything other than the feeling of his huge dick filling your pussy. And fill you it did, as he bucked up again and again.

“I – I – oh fuck,” It was too early for filth to drip from his lips, but he didn’t need to say it, not with the way he was panting and grunting and moaning and groaning, his eyes fighting to stay open so he could watch the marvel that was your body moving and grinding and bouncing on him. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

Your knees grew as weak as your cunt was wet when he sat up and kissed your tits, pushed them together and bit at the flesh there, flicked his tongue over your nipple. He moved his hand to clamp down on your neck, pinning you in place as your pussy clenched around his cock, vicelike and unrelenting as you rolled your hips in much the same way the waves smack against the hull of the Titanic.

“Moremoremore – yes!” You hung on to his shoulders, nails digging into the meat of his back, as he tumbled you backwards with a laugh and regained control with this new position.

He clung to you, panted and drooled in your ear and you were unable to stop the moans from tumbling past your lips, for he was so big, filled you so completely. The bed below you squeaked and shook, trembled from the force of his hips as he sought out your gspot.

You moaned out a shout when the head of his cock brushed against it, exploiting that feeling and sending you nearly out of body, shuddering out a gasp as stars fill your vision, not even realizing that his other hand abandoned your nipple to instead rub rub rub at your clit, a hot tongue sliding against yours to swallow your moans.

“God!” Kylo cried, “God yes!” A blaspheme loud and clear, his hot come shooting into you.

Hazy eyed and blissed out, you smiled against his teeth as you could feel it warming you up from the inside. It had grown so cold during the night, but here beneath your husband you were toasty, sweat-slick and in desperate need of a bath.

“Don’t move, please don’t move, not yet, please.” You begged, settled into the mattress underneath him and jus held his body against yours.

“We’ve all the time in the world.” Kylo assured into your neck, taking a mouthful of your throat and biting down hard as he ground his hips against yours, coming inside you still, his muscles aching and burning in the best of ways.

It took some time to regain your breath, but once you did, you lightly patted Kylo’s back and he pulled out with a wince and a groan, the both of you flopping down onto your backs and staring up at the beautifully crown-molded ceiling of the bedroom.

Light spilled in from the port-hole windows, illuminating the side of Kylo’s face in a way that showed off how deep of a gash his face had held. You lifted a shaking hand and gently traced the valley of his browbone, all the way down to his lips where he captured your hand and kissed the palm.

“I’ve invited Miss Rose and Mr. Dopheld to join us for tea today.” Kylo said, when he was finally awake enough for proper sentences.

You smiled, sat up despite your wobbly muscles and stretched.

“Oh I’ll be so glad to see them, I want to hear all about their time on the ship, if it’s been pleasant.” You mused, yawning and sighing happily.

“They’ve got the best accommodations for staff, I’ve made sure of it.” Kylo gave your back a gentle pat just as you had done his, and you knew it meant to come lay back down, but you had other ideas.

“Come, let’s bathe.” You shook your head at him, making him playfully groan and complain all the way next door.

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

When the both of you were clean and dressed for the day, Kylo rang up the staff and gave them the permission to enter the suite. Rose looked beautifully sun-kissed, her dark hair and eyes imbued with warmth. You suspected she had taken the liberty of laying out under the clear skies on one of the lounge chairs Kylo had wound up renting just to have on hand.

Dohpeld on the other hand, was unusually pale, hinting at nearly the entire time spent indoors, which you thought interesting.

You greeted your staff, invited them to the sitting room where Rose brewed a pot of tea for everyone. Only when it was done did you all really begin to relax, everyone seated at the table and enjoying a morning cuppa.

“It’s been quite some time since we’ve all seen one another! Please do tell, have you been enjoying the trip so far?” You asked, knowing it was improper for them to start a conversation of their own accord.

The moment you say the word though, Rose launches into an animated recount of her time between sips of tea.

“Oh Lady Ren it’s an absolute dream! I’ve met so many wonderful people and we’ve all taken to reading in the sunshine – a book club of sorts. It seems many of us have brought along the same novel to carry us through this fine journey, we take turns reading aloud to one another and analyzing the chapters.” Rose told you, making you wonder which book it was that proved to be so popular among the ladies. “I’m particularly interested in the psychological context behind many of the characters’ behavior, it’s been fascinating to discuss. Oh! Also, I went to the baths last night and it was marvelous. Do you think perhaps when we have returned home, you may be inclined to install a bathhouse at the manor, Lord Ren?” She asked hopefully.

“Of course, I hear the baths of Turkey in particular are of excellent health benefits, why should we not have one?” Kylo replied easily, “Why should we not have the very best? We’ll have one installed in the manor and the summer home.”

This made Rose grin in excitement, so much so that she could barely keep a hold of her teacup. It made you happy, to see Kylo so kind to his staff. You thought back to how Rose had said Kylo paid for the entirety of her sister’s expenses when she passed, and were glad to hear his generosity was not a one-off occasion.

“And what of you Mr. Dopheld, have you been smoking cigars and playing poker with the lads downstairs?” You implored, giving him a wink at the sight of his slight pallor.

Color returned to his cheeks then as he blushed.

“Forgive me Lady Ren, I find I’ve been spending much of my time actually among the older women among the first class passengers -- not in any salacious way of course! But I find they’re such an interesting group, and rife with gossip.” Dopheld stammered over himself, only grabbing the acute attention of your husband.

“Do tell.” Kylo encouraged, his expression and tone remaining neutral but the spark in his eyes curious.

“Well, word from the engine room is that because the Titanic is sailing so smoothly, we are set to arrive in New York a day early. Can you imagine that? A ship this large running so smooth that it’s ahead of course!” Dopheld offered, sipping his tea with a mischievous little smirk, “And then there’s of course the matter of the scandals…”

“Dopheld I swear you are worse than a sewing circle.” Rose laughed, and you were inclined to agree, but your husband simply quirked a brow.

“I would like to hear the scandals.” Kylo sipped his own cup, and you sighed with a fond little exasperation that had Kylo shrugging as if to say, what? They talk about us, why should we not talk about them?

“You know that handsome fellow, Quigg Baxter – the one with the eye patch? Well turns out that he, his younger sister, and their mother are all staying somewhere here on B-deck. But hear this, down on C-deck, there’s a young woman by the name of Berthe Mayne. Apparently, he fell in love with her on his family trip to Paris and is bringing her back to the continent with him! His family doesn’t know, she’s even going by an alias.” Dopheld said softly, in case the man in question were listening in.

“Well that’s not so bad.” You offered, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“She’s a prostitute and a cabaret singer.” Dopheld explained, and you found your eyes widening.

“Oh dear.” Was all you could say, because my my, that was something.

“Oh! And she’s not the only one aboard the ship with an alias, another singing mistress, Leontine Aubart just so happens to be here, and you’ll never guess who she’s with.” Rose piped up then, joining in the fun, her own remark about sewing circles seemingly forgotten. What was a sewing circle to a book club, after all?

“Well you must tell us.” Dopheld gestured with his hand.

“Benjamin Guggenheim – yes that Guggenheim. The married man left his wife behind to take his mistress aboard the Titanic, now that is quite the scandal. They each have separate rooms but everyone knows they’re together, just as we all know she’s expecting; everyone simply has the decency not to say anything about it. There’s a betting pool for whether or not he’ll recognize the child, being that it’ll be illegitimate.” Rose said with a chuckle.

“If I were a gambling man, I’d put money on not.” Kylo said thoughtfully, making you laugh at his encouragement.

“Kylo!” You playfully swatted his arm, and he only grasped your hand and kissed the knuckles, turning those doe-eyes on you.

“I said if, blossom.” He replied, making you shake your head with a grin.

“Oh, do either of you know whether the lifeboat drill is to take place today?” You remembered randomly, “I’ve not yet checked the newsletter.”

“It’s been canceled.” Rose replied, making you and Kylo frown.

“That doesn’t seem like a very good idea, does it?” Kylo asked, but Rose shrugged.

“That’s what we all think too, but according to the staff, the engines are running so smoothly that it would be unproductive to halt them for a good couple hours to lower the lifeboats and raise them all back up again.” She explained, “Plus, it would cut into the Sunday services, and you can only imagine how disgruntled that would leave those participating.”

“That does make sense, I suppose.” You muse, although it doesn’t sit right with you.

Why did it matter that the Titanic was going so smoothly? Everyone’s plans were already set for the scheduled arrival – and besides, a day early wouldn’t mean a day sooner off the boat. They’d simply sit in the harbor for another twenty-four hours, what difference did it make?

“Besides, according to the staff they already did a lifeboat drill prior to accepting passengers and departing from Southampton, and it went -- pardon my pun -- swimmingly.” Rose continued, quite pleased with her little remark.

“That’s very good then.” Kylo didn’t seem bothered by any of this at all any longer, and shifted onto other things. “Now, I’ve called you here because while I do truly value your company and your insights into the goings on of the ship, I wanted to get your opinion on a new detail for our arrival in New York.”

“I thought it was all planned out, my Lord.” Dopheld asked, but Kylo shrugged.

“It is, I just thought we might add a stop or two, extend the trip by a week perhaps.” He turned to you, “Niagra Falls has been on my mind for quite some time, I think our beautiful Lady would be amazed by its rush and power. What do you say?”

You let the thought of the lifeboats leave your mind for the time being, happy to instead imagine the wonders of nature. You nodded, and Dopheld gave a short nod in response.

“I will see who I may need to contact to make the arrangements the moment you depart for your stroll, my Lord.” The footman made a note of it on a small pad of paper he kept on his person, and you admired his preparedness.

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

The stroll in question was a way that you liked to end each day, just before dinner. No matter what you had decided to fill the day’s activities with, it was a wonderful opportunity to wind down in preparation for what would no doubt be an exciting evening. Between the dinner parties and dancing, the gambling, the smoking and drinking, well. You could use a few moments of peace when you could get them.

You were indulging in the stroll now, arm in arm the way that’s so scandalous, tucked against one another. Out on the Boat Deck this time, as opposed to the Promenade or Veranda, you enjoyed the only truly open area of the ship. It’s cold, but you’re wearing a grand coat made of Persian lamb’s wool and soft mink fur, so if there was a chill in the air, you certainly didn’t feel it.

“You know my darling, I’m finding that of all the past times aboard the ship, these moments alone with you are my most cherished.” You said, making him blush.

You liked being on the Boat Deck, for it was a place where first and second class passengers could both enjoy the sights of the sea. There were benches available for sitting and discussion, as well as quoits boards set up. You watched happily as a group of children entertained themselves with a round or two, laughing jovially as they each made scores.

“Is that so? More fun than watching horseshoes?” Kylo took notice of your interest in the second-class goings ons, and you only shook your head, grinned.

“Infinitely.” You both came to a stop at the very edge of the Boat Deck, where the railings were the only thing separating you from the skies, the sea.

You and Kylo stood side by side at the railing, one of his arms wound around your waist protectively. Your fur hat was not so large that it prevented you from resting your head atop his shoulder like you had become so tempted to do at all times, and you’re glad for it.

Maybe it was the sight of the sun beginning to set, maybe it was the endless expanse of the ocean, you couldn’t tell, but something in your husband grew wistful. You could see it in his eyes when he pressed a kiss to your temple and sighed.

“You can ask me anything you know,” He said, “Anything at all. I’ll answer you truthfully, about all of it.”

You know what he meant.

Over the course of the four days together aboard this ship, you had talked about everything under the sun. Politics, social ethics, finances, history, likes and dislikes – everything…except for,

“Why did you go to Africa?”

It was a gentle question for a violent past. One that you’d been avoiding out of respect for your husband, much like the discussion of the circumstances that had given him the scar adorning his face. But unlike the scar, you had no knowledge of his time in the continent, and you wanted to know to satisfy your own curiosity, and to get a better sense of the man your husband was.

“Because they told me to.” He replied, not looking at you, eyes cast out towards the ocean. “It was an order, and I followed it. Had I not gone, they would have stripped me of my fortune.”

“Who?” You prompted.

“The King and Queen. I come from a powerful yet politically notorious family, you don’t need to follow the gossip to know this. My mother, she has been a great opposition to the crown for some time, and my father…” You could tell the mention of the man was a sore subject, simply from the way he grit his teeth together and clenched his jaw momentarily. “When he was alive he was nothing but a debtor, an embarrassment. I had to do something to regain the crown’s trust, and when they presented me with an order to Africa and lead a battalion against a group of rebels to secure British hold on the colonies, I took it.”

You thought that over for a long time, contemplative as the gentle breeze tousled Kylo’s hair.

“I’m not against war, you know. I know that feels hypocritical of me, as much of my causes are on the foundations of justice. But justice doesn’t always equate to peace. I’m very against it, the New Imperialism.” You clarified, “You must know that I don’t condone it at all, the stealing of lands from people, the claiming it all as our own. But war, well. Humanity has always been at war. It just depends on whether the war is worth fighting.”

Kylo regarded you with an awe, an interest you’d never seen before. Was he so convinced you’d throw him overboard at the admission?

“Was it…I mean, did you…” You tried to frame the question but fall flat.

“I killed many people, if that’s what you’re asking. I slaughtered an entire village, all on my own.” He knew what you meant, and he spoke coolly when he gave you the answer you had been expecting. You weren’t surprised when he continued, “They gave me a medal for it, gave me two. Men, women, children. And I felt little to no remorse, why should I? They were just people standing in the great Empire’s way. Now of course, I am haunted by them, but what can I do – the deeds have been done, and they were done proudly. Part of me is still proud.”

“I do not condemn you for the things you have done. I understand that some things are bigger than us.” You placed your hand over his on the railing where you both leaned against.

“And if there were ever such a thing bigger than this,” Kylo took the hand you offered, held it gently, “I would not know it.”

You’re not sure if he means you, or Africa.

“This scramble is going to launch us into a war, it cannot end any other way.” You whisper, for the wind could carry such words if spoken any louder, “A global incident, I fear. The colonial lobbyists are growing tense, and that tension may soon explode. I hear the stories, great and grand weapons like that of our Lord Hux, weapons that will be unleashed simply because they are too impressive to be kept hidden any longer. The world is itching for war, itching to show these weapons off.”

“You’re right.” Kylo agreed, trying to make sense of you, trying to figure out how you were the perfect woman. “Germany in particular has been growing more and more aggressive with the British relations. It is strange, how this back and forth with Germany has pushed Britain and France closer together – an unlikely alliance, given our history. But where we stand now, France and Britain know they are the largest powerhouses of warfare. There will be war, and it will be the ugliest thing the planet has ever seen, and our friends will grow exorbitantly wealthy from it.”

“You said Lord Hux is a friend and business partner, does this mean we will too?” You asked suddenly thinking, suddenly remembering the conversation all those evenings ago.

“Yes.” Kylo answered, before steeling himself with, “Do you hate me?”

“If there is a war to come no matter what we do, and if people will die either way, surely it makes the most sense – morally and financially, to be on the most just side, does it not? If someone is to profit, let it be us, who can use that money to push back into our causes, rather than someone who would simply hoard the wealth.” You put him at ease, “I do not hate you, I think you are smart. You won’t go though, when the war starts, will you?”

A sudden pang of pain hit you at the thought, at the thought of him out in the field somewhere being shot at and shooting once again.

He sighed, ran a hand through his long locks. In the setting sun, he looked so vulnerable, so small then.

“If I didn’t have you, yes, I would have.” He was sincere, and that saddened you too much to bear.

“But you do have me.” You said, and he frowned.

“Do I? Even knowing this about me, do I still have you?” Kylo whispered, reaching his other hand across to cup your cheek.

“When was it, your time in Africa?” You nuzzled into it, sighed.

“Ten years ago.” Kylo recounted, “Second Boer War. I was stationed in the Orange Free State in South Africa during the final phase from September of 1900 to May of 1902.”

“Ten years is a long time. You were eighteen then, following someone else’s orders.” You turned your hand in Kylo’s and kept eye contact when you pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to his palm, “I hope that from here on out, the only orders you follow are mine.”

His eyes darkened, and you felt the thrill of danger swoop through you. Not danger in fear of him, but of what the two of you could wreak havoc on together.

“I am not loyal to anyone more than I am to you, not even the crown. I know it has not been long that we’ve known each other, but I hope that in time I can prove this to you. My compliments of your person have not been for show, I find you genuinely and sincerely incredible and it would be an honor to carry out your wishes.” Kylo’s tone was so serious that your heart beat quicker, knowing how truthful he was, how honest thrilled you.

“I know it cannot be easy, reliving and remembering the things you’ve done. But I don’t think you any less of a gentleman for it, and all we can do is move forward. You fought for the crown, fought for your family name, and in a way, you fought for us.” You hoped to convey your loyalty as well, in the lifetime to come.

Kylo stepped away from the railing then, offered you his arm. The two of you needed to keep moving, otherwise you’d fall chilly despite your beautiful coat. You took his arm and smiled, walked with him around the deck.

“No one has ever considered me with such kindness the way you do.” Kylo said, not for the first time.

“I should hope not, for I am your wife, not them.” You replied, a playful and loving smile hopefully setting his nerves at ease.

“Yes, you are, and I am forever in your debt.” Kylo chuckled, like an embarrassed schoolboy being caught in a trivial prank, “I have to admit, when I was told of our arrangement all those years ago, I…kept tabs on you.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow with a grin, and oh he truly blushed now!

“Not anything overt, of course, but just. If you happened to throw a function I would inquire how it went, if you were happy. Your happiness is of great importance to me, it always has been. You could have been cruel as the others are, you could have participated in the condemnation of my actions as so many have, and yet you didn’t.” He grew shy, bashful. “I was fascinated by that, you know. Part of me wanted you to gossip, just so I could know what you thought of me.”

“You could have just asked me.” You shook your head with a laugh.

“No I couldn’t have, you are far too beautiful, I clam up when you’re around.” He smiled.

Just then, some of the children playing quoit ran around you, cutting you off. If it had been an adult Kylo would have surely had words with them, but one cannot deny the sound of children laughing put everything in a better mood.

“If this is how talkative you are when you’re clammed up, I can’t wait to hear your ramblings when you’re at ease.” You teased, before sighing and gesturing towards those kids who had disappeared around a corner, their laughter echoing after them. “I envision a long and happy life together, you know. I envision lots of children and sprawling estates and great political debates, side by side. We’ll show them, we’ll show all of them the true power you possess.”

“I cannot tell if your passion is for peace or blood.” Kylo hummed playfully, squeezing your arm in his.

“You cannot get one without the other.” You shrugged, before letting out a dramatic sigh. “But as much as I would love to continue this introspective conversation, I’d like to shift to more pleasant topics if we may? If we are to dine with the Huxes again this evening, I’ll need as many of my wits as I can spare.”

“Of course blossom, of course.” Kylo grinned and nodded then, humoring you and grateful for the break in heavy conversation in his own right. “Should I comment on the weather? How chilly it has become in only a few short days.”

You made a show of bundling up your coat and shivering with a laugh.

“Rose was telling me that it’s supposed to get freezing tonight!” You recalled from another little conversation during tea that morning.

“Perhaps we can sneak down to the boiler rooms, that would surely keep you warm. What do you say? After dinner we can continue our tour of the ship to her very depths.” Kylo rounded the corner along with you, took a quick peek from either direction and gently pushed you up against the wall of the little compartment that provided you cover.

You grinned and bit your lip, breathed in the warm exhale he puffed across your cheek as he leaned in, crowded your space as he had the very first day aboard the ship.

“I daresay it sounds like a marvelous idea, I’m incredibly interested in how such a ship as this runs – especially if it is running as smoothly as Dopheld claims.” You teased, for that surely was not the only reason you wanted him there.

“You’ll be a sight for the engine workers’ sore eyes, that’s for certain.” Kylo nodded diplomatically, “And I might have a note or two in my pocket which could bribe them to look the other way for some time. I had a dream last night, of taking you up against one of the walls where no one would know if the steam was from our bodies, or the ship.”

“I find I’m suddenly desperately parched.” You whisper, eyes already closing as you ask, “May I have a sip of the sweet nectar from your lips?”

You drink from one another’s mouths until the sun firmly sets beyond the horizon, and the bugle is called for dinner time – and then you kiss some more.

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

Dinner, as always, was eventful. The food was good and the company better, you and Lady Hux once again having the floor to command the conversation while the men at the table simply listened and enjoyed your smart banter and retellings of stories that had the whole section listening in with hearty laughter.

Laughter which continued through bottles of champagne and beers, leaving everyone in a pleasant bubbly mood.

Such a pleasant mood in fact, that the four of you now found yourselves in the first class Smoking Room, participating in a very intense game of strip poker.

It would seem that cunning though he was, Lord Hux was having quite the streak of bad luck this evening. The poor man was down to his undershirt, drawers and sock-garters, whereas your husband still managed to somehow have his pants buttoned up nicely. Much more scandalously though, were the state of you and Lady Hux, who were in equal amounts of undress.

The four of you sat around the table in the Smoking Room, piles of clothes haphazardly thrown about in laughing fits as Hux dealt the next hand. And, true to the room’s name, everyone participated in a vice of some sort. Kylo and Hux preferred a fat cigar each, where you and Lady Hux shared a long thin cigarette, such a sight that would surely give your parents a heart attack if they were to ever see it.

But in the room your parents were not, so you allowed yourself this bit of fun. Hux seemed to be sobering up enough to shuffle the cards properly, and you used it as an opportunity.

“Lord Hux, I do believe when we first dined together you were more than inclined to speak about some weapons which you’ve designed.” You prompted, lazily leaning against Kylo’s side, your bare shoulder from lack of shirtwaist brushing against his own.

“Quite right.” Hux replied, cigar between his teeth.

“And as your illustrious wife had pointed out, perhaps the reception room was not the right time nor place for such discussions.” You grinned at your friend who grinned back, as you all accepted your cards for this round. “But as we are all in a sense, laying bare this evening, I thought you might indulge an interested party.”

Hux hummed over his cards, smoked while the three of you watched.

“Imagine this,” He painted a picture, “A vehicle designed with bullet proof walls, thick and made with impenetrable steel. Bullets bounce off of its body and ricochet into enemy bodies, as the rolling wheels crush barbed wire, drown soldiers into the mud. But it is not a defensive machine, no! Strapped to the side is a canon like those on the sides of warships, loaded and reloaded by soldiers inside, soldiers ready to pour out with weapons of mass destruction all their own.”

“Guns?” You asked, and Hux only laughed.

“Not just any guns, automated guns, guns which fire multiple rounds per minute – per second. Razing down an entire battlefield in the time it takes to blink, and then blowing said field to smithereens when you’re done.” He was so passionate, you found yourself drawn in.

“You’ve designed such a weapon?” Your eyes widened, finding the awe in the image terrible and exciting.

“I’ve designed those and more.” Hux answered, “We will bring victory to the Empire with these new advancements, should they be needed in the future.”

“’Should.’” Lady Hux snorted out a laugh, “My darling and I are convinced that the time for war will be soon upon us. That is the reason we are aboard the Titanic, we have secured a meeting with some heads of American government security, in the attempt to…rub elbows a bit.”

“Good luck, the Americans are so strongly against war that they’ll never agree to it.” Now it was Kylo’s turn to scoff as he flipped his cards over, showing a very impressive hand. “They’re not like the lobbyists frothing at the mouth for more battle.”

Lady Hux wasn’t too big a fan of that, and she tossed down her less-than-impressive hand with a huff.

“If I have to hear their rampant defense of enslavement once more I’m going to simply open fire upon the entire lot of them!” She rolled her eyes, “I personally think this is an attempt at recovering from the disaster that was the good ol’ U-S-A. The crown must be embarrassed, even after all this time to attempt to dominate another indomitable continent.”

“You think Africa will be indomitable?” Kylo asked curiously.

“I know it will, as it should be. Is the Empire not big enough already? Britain is greedy, as are the lobbyists. That is their hubris, and it will be their eventual downfall. We could have settled with what we had but yet, we always need more. How are we to be a great nation when we throw innocents in concentration camps? It is despicable what has happened in Africa, and the world will surely pay for it.” Her grand speech inspired you, even if it was a tad hypocritical given her own political gaining.

“But we are not the only country attempting to secure our hold, nor have we been for a long time.” You pointed out, “France, Russia, Germany, Portugal – they all have pieces of countries in their clutches. They are just as greedy, if not more. Speaking of countries, I’m surprised the Americans will even bother to give you the time of day – wasn’t it only a couple of decades ago that they had that bloody civil war, a conflict caused by their own imperialism and consequences of the enslavement of those from Africa?”

“Maybe, but they are young and they are hungry, this much is true.” Hux put down his cards, making you grimace for a slight moment or two before you schooled your expression. Thankfully, no one was paying attention, as Hux continued, “And we have more than enough fruit to share.”

“We do, don’t we?” You mused with a sigh, “Kylo told me about the partnership, I’d like you to know I’m not opposed to it. In fact, I think it’s very smart what you’re doing, if perhaps a little devious. I would much rather us have these great killing machines than another nation who might turn them against us – although they no doubt have killing machines of their own, I’m sure.”

And finally, you put down your cards, eliciting a whoop and a cheer from your friends when it became clear you had the worst hand of the round. You all laughed and smoked and you were a good sport about it,

“You’d be correct, we can only hope ours are bigger and make more of a boom. And now my friend, I believe you must remove your corset cover.”

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

The hiss and clang of the boiler rooms greeted you before the heat did, but the moment it does, it is sweltering. A maze of wrought iron stairs and grate walkways seemed to stretch on forever into the bowels of the ship, and looking down down down it made you almost dizzy.

You had ventured to the depths of the Titanic after the game of strip poker concluded with your friends bidding you adieu to go indulge in one another, and you and Kylo took the opportunity to do the very same.

“Kylo…are you sure this is safe?” You whispered to your husband, nervous in a strange way that you hadn’t been before.

“Of course it’s safe, look there are workers all around us.” Kylo gestured to the men walking the pathways with ease, not even jumping when the steam erupted from valves like some great tea kettle. “They would not be down here if it were dangerous, in fact, this is likely the safest place aboard the whole ship.”

“Oh? And why is that?” You regard your husband’s cheeky grin with a little smile of your own, as he collected you up in his embrace.

“Because you’re here in my arms.” He whispered, kissing your cheek.

“You charmer,” You laughed, covering your mouth. The echo was wild down here, the noises all bouncing around the big machines. You lowered your voice to a whisper so you wouldn’t get caught, knowing full well that even if you did, Kylo could bribe them away. “I don’t think I want to go any further down though, if that’s alright. It’s so smoky down there, and I want to see you clearly.”

Kylo simply nodded, tipped your head up by a pinch of your chin, and kissed you.

You didn’t think you’d ever get over this, the thrill of kissing Kylo. He was so good at it, and you were pleased to know you were good at it too. The both of you leaning into one another, tasting one another, savoring your tongues like expensive wine, learning and growing from the reactions you were able to pull.

He wound a hand into your hair and gripped tightly at your neck, your skull tingling and making you grin against his mouth as your hands worked to unbutton his hastily done trousers. What a sight you must have been, a less than pristine example of first class elegance gone debauched.

His cock is hard in your hand, and when he realizes what you’re doing he moans into your mouth, begins hiking up all your many layers of skirt and petticoat to get to your hot pussy, so wet for him, for the very thought of him.

You thought back to that morning, how the sex had been gentle and sweet. You’re hoping that down here in the depths of the boiler room, it is aggressive, dirty, rough.

But then – Kylo stopped.

There was a lurch, a jolt of the ship.

You whined for a moment, too wrapped up in your own pursuit of pleasure, annoyed that this has stopped before it had a chance to even begun.

“What was that?” Kylo’s hand retracted from your skirts, rushing to the railing of the metal stairs, shouting to the workers below, “Does anyone know what that was?”

There is a jumbled response which summed up to we don’t know.

“Nothing, just a bump in the night I’m sure – ” You tried convincing him to return his mouth to yours, but he shook his head, adamant.

“No, no blossom,” He went still, trained his ear to the walls. “Something feels wrong, listen, do you hear that?”

You follow him to the wall, press your ear against it, when suddenly, you feel the freezing cold of dread hit your very veins.

“I’m – I’d like to go back up to our rooms now, now Kylo, please.” You whispered, and he does not hesitate to yank you up the stairs in a scrambled rushing run.

Because though you were in the middle of the ship, though you were not near or close to the waves, what you heard when you pressed your ear to the wall…

Was water.

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

:^)

Tagging some pals!

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ineffablelads · 5 years

Note

Sending you a little prompt. A bughead prompt. The prompt is: Betty is sick but tries to put on brave face. Worried Jughead happens and he might make her some soup.

I told myself this was just gonna be a cute lil 500 word one shot… but my finger slipped and 1800 words later… here is a bigger one shot than I once intended. Thanks for the prompt!!!!!

Jughead sat in a crooked hunch behind his desk, head resting in his palm as he gazed at the door in the opposite corner of the classroom. A fleeting hope tightened in his chest; that Betty would walk through the door and tell him he was silly for worrying.. that she just slept in past her alarm or wanted to go get some breakfast at Pop’s before coming in today.

Mr. Kitely faced away, writing Shakespearean phrases in his messy hooked swoops of what could almost pass as cursive. His voice rose and fell dramatically as he spewed prose- a sure sign that the conclusion of his lecture would come any moment now.

The door remained closed. Her seat remained empty.

Pictures of their dark adventures plastered the insides of his eyelids for a heavy moment. Memories of Betty always distancing herself when things were at their worst for her… of her wanting to take matters into her own hands, by herself.

No matter how close they’d become and how much of her trust he had earned... he was beginning to see that it was just her nature. Her independent inclinations got the better of her… her hunger to prove her strength to herself. Overcoming dark challenges satiated that hunger.

He rotated his pencil back and forth between his fingers as he thought.

Usually there were some sort of tell-tale signs that would give her away before she began her sleuthing or problem-solving, though. She would get a distant look sometimes in the middle of conversations, she’d make unlikely alliances, propose strange articles, or she would ask seemingly unrelated questions out of nowhere… something.

None of that had been happening, though.

So, where was she?

Jughead’s leg began to shake up and down in a sudden bout of thick anxiety.

Finally, the bell rang.

He stayed in his seat a moment, allowing the crowd to go on ahead of him into the halls. He pulled out his phone.

No messages.

He had already texted her twice before class started. Usually, they met out front and walked to English class together. But this morning there was no sign of her.

He racked his brain for anything important he may have forgotten.

Was she going to visit Polly and Alice at the Farm? Did she mention anything out of the ordinary? Did he do something that may have offended her?

He tried calling.

No answer.

He left a message,

Right as he was finishing up, Archie and Veronica rounded the corner of the hallway.

Veronica sized up the empty space by his side. She exchanged a brief questioning glance with Archie.

“Where’s B?” she prodded.

Jughead shook his head.

“You haven’t heard from her?” Archie asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Radio silence.” Jughead replied.

“That’s weird.” Archie said, “I didn’t see any light on in her room this morning. But the car’s still there. I even tried knocking to see if she wanted to walk to school together… nothing.”

“Did you guys get in a fight or-” Veronica trailed off when she found she couldn’t stomach the look that was brewing on Jughead’s face.

She wrapped herself reassuringly around Archie’s arm.

“Oh my gosh, look at you two! I’m sure no news is good news. We’re talking about the same Betty Cooper, right? Because the Betty Cooper I know took down three murderers and my gargoyle of a father in the span of two years. I have complete faith that she’s fine.”

She flashed him a smile that was simultaneously sympathetic and vaguely amused.

She was right.

Out of the four of them, Betty was probably the most capable of holding her own. She was smart, she was cunning, she was… giving him a lot of anxiety.

He followed Veronica and Archie to the door of the room with the couches and vending machines then paused. Veronica had begun chattering about her latest Speakeasy plans.

“You know, I think I’m just going to go check on her to be sure. I’ll be back after gym, probably.” He said.

“Yeah, or maybe you can just be a proper rebel and not return after ditching half a day of classes. See you at Pop’s later?” Veronica smirked.

Jughead smiled, “Yeah, I’ll see you guys there.”

He set off down the hall, pushing through an unbearable crowd of his peers.

Things had improved for the Southsiders at Riverdale High in the past few months, but it still wasn’t perfect. He could tell that people noticed him and the other Serpents a little bit more than their average peer. Their eyes always paused an extra moment whenever one of them entered a classroom. It was clear to him that people were less likely to move out of the way for them in the halls than they were for a couple of Northside pearls like Veronica or Archie.

And anyways, people liked to have an excuse to sneer at him when they forced him to push through them. Big guys like Reggie liked the opportunity to shove him or cast half-witted jeers as he elbowed past, even before he joined the Serpents. But now, especially, that he was their king.

Sometimes he wondered if the only one anchoring him to this place with it’s dirty halls and dirty looks was Betty.

Sometimes he wondered if the only one anchoring him through all the insanity of his life in general was her.

But it was like Zelda Fitzgerald once wrote in a letter to her husband Scott,

“Why is there happiness and comfort and excitement where you are and no where else in the world?”

He smiled to himself. Betty Cooper had turned him cheesy. Had it really only been a couple of years since the lonely beginning of sophomore year? Had he really gone most of his lifetime blind to how much more incredible it could be with her not just as his friend he met through Archie, but a warrior Queen fighting by his side?

He swung the doors to the parking lot open and scanned the lot for his bike. The brisk morning air clung heavily to his clothes, leaving dew drops on the faux wool peeking out of his denim jacket. As he crossed the lot, a thin bite of wind shredded coolly at his face.

There was something about mounting his bike and bringing it roaring to life that made Jughead feel a little more alive than he was the moment before. Something about making himself vulnerable to fate and circumstance tickled his poetic existentialism in a way driving a car never could. The tires of the bike skidded precariously over the rain-soaked blacktop as he turned onto the main road. For a brief moment, his mind emptied itself of the morning’s anxieties and he was just a rush of stark senses.

He loved that his motorcycle refused to shield him from the elements. If it was snowy, he’d feel snowflakes caking his clothes, bristling at his skin. If it was hot, he’d feel the sun beating down directly into his flesh. Now that it was rainy, the precipitation soaked right into his clothes and the resulting cold seeped deep into his bones.

In a car you could feel numb. You could turn on a heater on a snowy day and feel as warm as the summertime. You could lie.

On his motorcycle, he was honest. About the weather. About where he was coming from and where he was going.

On his motorcycle, he was a person who faced things head on.

And so he did, pulling into Betty Cooper’s driveway that drizzly morning. He slid his helmet off and threw it onto the seat. In an instinctual instant, he had his beanie settled over his hair again. He knocked on the front door and pushed a tuft of hair from his eyes. The rain had picked up. He wished he’d brought his serpent jacket instead of his fluffy jean coat.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and did his best to dry them. Then he sent Betty a text.

Hey, I’m at your house. Can you let me in?

-Message read.

He let out a defeated sigh and leaned against the door frame, planning his next move.

But the longer he waited for some sort of response… any sort of response, the more out of control his anxious thoughts became.

What if one of Hiram’s goons was still out there and came to get comeuppance over his arrest? What if one of the Black Hood’s crazy fanatics came after her? What if one of the remaining Ghoulies found her to “create chaos”?

“One can find so many pains in the rain.”

John Steinbeck’s quote interrupted his thoughts. He remembered reading it over the summer.

He felt the author’s quote spinning around his head, as though to tease him… but maybe also a godsend to distract him from the dark train of thought he had been spiraling through.

“Jug?”

Betty’s big, warm hazel eyes peeked through the slightly opened door. A set of sniffles followed.

He moved into plain sight and waved meekly, soaked.

“Oh my god, Jughead!” she croaked, sniffling some more and practically throwing him into the house.

He laughed, looking up at her in starry-eyed relief. She was in her pink, fluffy pajama bottoms. One of his “S” t-shirts hung loosely around her shoulders along with a cozy blanket. She padded away, barefoot on the hardwood floors, and came rushing back with a set of towels and a box of tissues.

Jughead pulled off his boots and left them in the entryway, upside down.

“What’s wrong?” Betty asked, “Why are you here?”

He gaped at her, incredulous.

“I was worried. You weren’t at school and you hadn’t responded to any of my messages. Archie said he didn’t see you leave this morning and-”

She sniffled once more, head cocked sympathetically to the side in that way Jughead knew all too well. Here she was comforting him when she was the sick one.

He tensed. He knew his anxiety had been getting worse over the years… but ever since the debacle with Hiram Lodge- it was like he couldn’t stop the warning lights from going off in his head anymore.

“I guess I still worry that it’s not over.” he whispered.

Betty took one of his cheeks in the palm of her hand.

“Maybe it’s never over.” she mused, “but we’ll never be able to live happy lives if we let ourselves believe that.”

There it was: Betty Cooper and her brave face.

She smiled at him as she came forward and pulled off his jacket and flannel. She threw them in the drier, along with his socks and hat that he threw in himself.

“Erm, did Chic happen to leave any pants behind here that I could borrow?” he asked.

Betty reddened.

“No, we uh- we burned his belongings after I handed him over to the Black Hood. You know… to be sure.”

Jughead raised his eyebrows.

“But… we could check the guest room Archie stayed in when Fred went to Chicago freshman year. Maybe he left something behind?”

He nodded.

Once he was switched into one of the flannels she had borrowed from him some time ago and pulled on some of Archie’s old jeans, he came downstairs and found Betty leaning in a state of pungent exhaustion against the counter, blowing her nose.

He shuffled forward excitedly and scooped her up into his arms, spinning her around once.

Together, they spun from the hardwood floor of the dining room to the squishy rug of the living room. Jughead collapsed down onto the couch, bringing a ball of sniffling Betty Cooper with him.

They pressed their foreheads together in a gesture of momentary oneness.

Betty pulled away first.

“I don’t want to get you sick, too.” She worried.

“That is the least of my worries.” he responded. “Right now, all I’m worried about is making you feel better.”

She gave him a puzzled look.

Jughead cradled her once more as he stood up and set her back down on the sofa.

“I am going to take care of you for once!” he announced. A self-satisfied smirk crossed his face as he leaned forward, kissed her on the forehead, and tucked in her blanket.

Betty quirked an eyebrow but did not protest. Instead she leaned back into the arms of the comfortable sofa and accepted the oncoming pampering.

Jughead left nothing in his reserves. He set up candles around the room to replace the strain of bright light bulbs. He started up the fireplace. He brought her tissues and cough drops and ibuprofen that he must have found after about ten minutes of frustratedly rummaging through the pantry and cursing Alice’s organization. He even had something cooking on the stove that smelled delicious.

Betty watched with adoration as he doted by whatever he was making in the other room, humming happily to himself.

“Eureka!” he shouted.

Betty did all she could to keep from snorting out her laughter.

She failed.

Jughead waltzed in wearing her mother’s lacy, flowery cooking apron and an oven mitt over his haphazard rain outfit. In the mitt was a bowl of piping hot soup he set on the coffee table before her.

He beamed.

“AND!” he shouted. Before she could say anything, he’d run back into the kitchen and eagerly shuffled back with a steaming tea cup.

“A meal fit for a Queen! Bon appetit.” he said in the worst french accent she’d ever heard. He bowed dramatically, a smile curled joyfully around the sides of his mouth.

Betty sniffed again and made her best effort to inhale a waft of the soup’s smell. It was a homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese- just like what she would get at Pop’s. The tea was her favorite relaxing green tea.

Her eyes flickered up to Jughead’s. She stretched her arms forward, beckoning him to come snuggle her.

He happily obliged.

#bughead #bughead fanfic #riverdale fanfic #Anonymous #endlesswriter03 #my writing

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toloveawarlord · 6 years

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Clever Canary (Chapter 3)

The silence hung thick between us, only broken when I could no longer contain my laughter. Pressing the palm of my hand against my lips in an attempt to not be so loud, my sides began to hurt from how hard I was laughing. Interesting turn of events. “That’s adorable, Hideyoshi,” I said, wiping the tears from under my eyes, still bent over slightly from my fit.

“I do not see how this situation is humorous,” Hideyoshi replied, his eyes still narrowed at me. He must have really hurried to finish giving his report to Nobunaga in order to catch me before I departed.

Straightening up, my lips tugged up into a sly smirk. “On the contrary, I think it’s absolutely hilarious,” I started, taking a step closer to him. “That you think empty threats are going to keep me away from Nobunaga.” The anger that flashed through his eyes was amusing, too. Instinctively, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but I knew he wouldn’t pull it. At least, not yet. “See, the thing is, I very much enjoy being favored by him, and that’s not just because the sex is great.”

For a moment, disgust flickered across his features. “I’m warning you, Miki—”

In a mocking tone, I said, “Oh no. Another warning from mama bear.” Pressing my hand against my heart, I faked surprise. “Anything but that.” Laughing from my own joke, I stalked forward, close enough to have to tilt my head back to look up at him. “The problem with you, is that you aren’t afraid of me. You don’t like me, sure, but not afraid. Maybe you should be.”

The ‘shink’ of his sword being drawn made me jump back. The fabric of my kimono had a small slice in the front. “Choose your next words very wisely. If I find them not to my liking, I won’t treat you kindly,” Hideyoshi said, gripping the hilt tightly. He didn’t want to, because of how Nobunaga felt about me. He knew that there would be repercussions, yet he was prepared to accept them if it meant he would be protecting his lord.

That’s probably enough for today.

Brightening up, I waved my hand around. “I’m just kidding. Relax! I’m as harmless as a mouse. A very rich mouse, albeit.” His shoulders relaxed only slightly, but I’d begun to unwind him.

“You carry two swords with you,” he replied, his gaze dropping down to them.

I shrugged my shoulders. “A girl has to protect herself, right? But to be honest, I only bought them because they were pretty,” I said. The blacksmith work on the two were incredible. If needed, I could sell them for a good price. “Listen, I wasn’t kidding about the first part. I do quite enjoy being liked by Nobunaga. It’s absolutely great work, and I think that his ambition is admirable. So, I won’t be leaving any time soon.”

The tension dissipated from his body. “I would do anything to make his mission a success.”

“Oh, I know,” I replied, mounting my horse. It would be dark by the time I reached Honno-ji at this rate. Time to get going. “Would it make you feel better if said I that I had no ulterior motives other than to make good money?”

Hideyoshi’s lip twitched with an annoyed smile he was suppressing. “Not in the slightest.”

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” I called back over my shoulder as the horse trotted toward the front of the barn. Giving him a wink, I set off on my long journey.

Sometimes Nobunaga would try to talk me into having a soldier accompany me whenever I left Azuchi. ‘It’s dangerous for a woman to be alone’, he’d say. My reply would always be ‘I’m pretty dangerous myself.’ That would make him laugh and shake his head, but he dropped the subject. There’s no reason for me to have someone along. Informants and their assets were confidential. Some would scare easy and refuse to speak to me when I wasn’t alone.

Bandits don’t frighten me. While what I had told Hideyoshi was mostly true, I had enough skills to defend myself if need be. Katria could kill just about anyone, that had been her training in the place we grew up in. My skills laid more in the art of seduction and information gathering. Situations can turn south quickly, and some required a more physically painful experience to give up what I might need. I have quite a few tricks packed away.

Thankfully, my journey to Honno-ji was quiet. However, that meant it was also boring. The town nearest the temple was alive, even at this time of night. Torches burned brightly, and the streets were filled with lively people. Finding a place to stable my horse first, I then went to the nearest tavern. This is the place where men who know things tend to gather.

Scanning the room, my eyes spotted a familiar man. Haruto Saruka, a young man in his early twenties, a few years younger than myself. He frequents this area and should know at least a little something. His eyes met mine for a brief moment before I ducked my head down like I hadn’t been looking.

Sauntering up to the bar, I leaned both arms on the wood, standing on my tiptoes to look over the countertop. “Hi, there,” I greeted the man sweetly, flashing a smile. This was a seasoned man, because he didn’t smile back. Good thing he isn’t my target. Shifting from one foot to the other, purposefully making my kimono rise and fall each time I switched, I said, “I’m terribly lost. Could you tell me the way to the nearest inn? It’s too dark for a girl to be traveling and I’d love a nice place to stay.”

All eyes were on me. The sounds of the rowdy men who were playing drinking games and gambling had died down to a mere whisper. Music to my ears. As if on cue, Haruto came to a stop beside me. “Why don’t you enjoy a drink and a hot meal before you go?” His gaze moved to the man behind the counter. “Add it to my tab, will you?”

Clapping my hands together, I smiled brightly. “Thank you so much! That sounds wonderful!”

With his hand sliding around me to hold my waist, he walked me back over to the table in the very back corner. Good view of the whole tavern and a window to keep tabs on the outside as well. The tell-tell marks of a cautious man. He hasn’t changed one bit. Sitting on the stool with my back to the room, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “Look at you, swooping in like a real hero.”

Haruto took another sip from his cup of sake. “Subtlety was never your strong suit, Miki.” He’d paused as the barmaid brought me a warm plate of rice and chicken along with an extra pitcher of sake. The second she left, his eyes were sweeping the room. “They’re still staring.”

I moaned, the delicious chicken making me happy. “Let them. If you walk away, then they’ll surely pounce on me. Your nature won’t allow you to let that happen to a poor innocent girl like me.” Basically, I’d trapped him in this corner with me. He scares easy, especially when the information is directly related to the Oda clan.

“Poor? Innocent? I wouldn’t use either of those words to describe you. More like… clever and cunning. You put me in this situation. So, what is it that you want?” Haruto asked, pouring another cup for himself. This man will drink himself to death one day.

Setting my chopsticks down, I rested my elbow on the table and my chin on my palm. “I want to know about Honno-ji and who exactly it was that orchestrated it.”

His body tensed. “No.”

What’s he so afraid of? “I’ll make it worth your while. I can pay double what I normally do.”

Standing, he nearly knocked the pitcher off the table. “No amount of money is worth that.”

The tavern went silent. To others, it must have seemed like prostitution. The jingling of money from those around us made me sigh heavily. Now look what he’s done. Narrowing my eyes, I kicked my foot into his shin. “Sit down, before I decide to turn all these men on you,” I hissed. Everyone is a sucker for a damsel in distress.

Haruto shrank back down onto the stool. “I can’t, Miki.” He’s terrified. Whoever this person is, he must be powerful.

“Just a name. That’s all I want,” I said. Pushing him won’t do me any favors in the future but returning to Azuchi empty handed would just ruin my reputation of being the best there is. My vision suddenly faded slightly. Blinking my eyes in surprise, it was me who stood this time. “What did you do?”

Moving swiftly around the table, he put his arm around my waist again, supporting my weight. “I’m sorry, Miki, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, practically pulling me along with him out the door.

My whole body felt heavy. Did this bastard sell me out? The feeling of unconsciousness draped over me, suffocating me. With what little strength I had, I turned my head to glare up at him. “I will get the information I want,” I said. He’s made a big mistake.

“I’ll be long gone by the time anyone saves you,” Haruto said, slipping his hand under my knees to pick me up entirely.

Unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I fell limp. Fighting the drug as much as I could, the only thing I heard was a voice I didn’t recognize. Nobunaga’s name came up, and Haruto promised that I was important to him. Great, now I’m part of a ransom deal. This is going to be one big headache when I wake up. And who knows how much blood I’ll spill this time.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #nobunaga oda #toyotomi hideyoshi #date masamune #Akechi Mitsuhide #Ishida Mitsunari #Tokugawa Ieyasu #oda nobunaga lover #miki #Clever Canary #chapter 3

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authorloremipsum · 7 years

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The Pyrologist’s Clockwork Heart

a “The Glass Scientists” fanfiction

Words - 2073

Characters - Mr. Sinnett, Dr. Jekyll, the Lodgers (in general)

Summary - What the hell is one pyrologist to do when he’s surrounded by a Society of people who don’t realize how bloody beautiful they are?

Anthony Sinnett had a problem.

Every, single person at the Society of Arcane Sciences was attractive. Even the Lodgers who were ten, twenty years his senior, they all had a respectable and dignified sort of beauty to them. The closer they were to Sinnett’s age, the more of a problem it was though, because there was the opportunity for chemistry with them.

And that chemistry had a different meaning for each of them.

For example, Luckett was charming, eloquent, surprisingly elegant and dignified for a man on fire half of the time. Sinnett looked forward to the opportunities he had to work with Luckett, he could listen to the talk of homeopathy all day frankly. It was solely intellectual, Sinnett felt he was an equal with Luckett, and their time together was rewarding in terms of work. They got things finished, they built things, set things on fire, it was fun and bloody brilliant.

On another hand, Ito was incredibly attractive. As shallow as it sounded though, that’s as far as it extended; Sinnett marveled at their aesthetic, their makeup and hair. Often he wanted to ask them about it, maybe get some tips, but how didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding romantic or uncouth. His attitude towards Ito was not romantic in the slightest, he considered them a good friend, and perhaps wanted to be closer friends.

There were others that had drawn his interest, Mosley whose hidden face and mysterious nature drew the imagination in curious directions, Rachel whose kindness and fierce attitude suggested she would be an interesting friend, Lavender, who seemed always willing to talk, they were all so kind and Sinnett was so thankful they were his friends.

Now, Flowers or Archer were a different story, those feelings were definitely inclined to the romantic. Well, romance was certainly the polite way of putting it, as opposed to thoughts better left to after three pints of beer or whiskey. Both of them were just, so beautiful.

Flowers was a soft sort of pretty, the way she held herself with such grace and gentleness, her timid tone of voice and delicate touch that could work clockwork like nothing else. He adored the twinkle that’d appear in her eyes when he knocked on her lab door, saying one of his metal fingers had gotten a bit loose, the way her lips would pout while she focused on the intricate cogs and gears in his hand. Her hair, though she clearly tried to tame the wild curls, reminded Sinnett of clouds and smoke, oh she was so lovely.

Then Archer, handsome Archer, he was a sharp sort of beautiful. His strong chin and bright eyes to match with that cunning, knowing smirk of his was nearly intimidating, Sinnett found it alluring. The way his hair stuck up behind his goggles like a macaw’s, the way he always tried to make Sinnett laugh when they were tuning up his arm, the odd look he’d get on his face when things were serious, all of it contributed to Sinnett’s fancy.

Both of them were so kind to him, and so beautiful, Sinnett found himself thinking about them in the most embarrassing fashions that made his face turn bright red. God, if he ever told anyone, the rumors would be horrifically embarrassing.

Sinnett was a mess, to make a long story short. By the end of his first few months as a member of the Society, a compliment from anyone, particularly his favorites, would turn him into a blushing mess behind closed doors. More than once Luckett had found him hiding in their lab, face beet red but covered in ash and soot. The excuses were varying, but Luckett was lackadaisical enough that he didn’t press.

The problem with all these emotions that made dear Sinnett’s heart race was that he didn’t know what to do with them. Most of his fancies and infatuations had crushes of their own and that was just fine, the others faded away to incredibly platonic friendships.

Well, except for one.

He’d spent all morning avoiding the rest of the Society simply because he had a project to work on, soldering new sheets of metal onto the tanks of his flamethrower instead of dealing with any of his bottled affections. Though, to be fair, some of said affections were more humiliating than romantic.

Didn’t matter at this point, he’d wasted the day on work to ignore the particularly fierce tugs at his heartstrings and now the voice from his stomach was far fiercer. It took Luckett tapping him on the shoulder to get him to finally pull himself away from work and go get food.

Because, you know, drowning yourself in work tends to lead to one forgetting to eat.

It was, eerily quiet tonight, which was shocking because something or other could usually be heard going on at any one time, be it the sounds of machinery moving behind the walls or a hum from one of the small exhibits in the lobby, there was none of that tonight. Sinnett made note of this as he wandered the uncharacteristically empty halls, looking around curiously for any sign of his friends. But there was nothing, so he walked a little quicker to the kitchen, hoping beyond hope to find Rachel there and ask what the hell was going on.

Darkness had crept into the Society, the lights remained unlit in their sconces along the walls, casting everything into shadow. Sinnett, who found comfort in light and warmth, found anxiety creeping into his psyche as he travelled the dark hallways, rubbing the sleeve of his metal arm just above where flesh changed to machine, an old tic from when that place had been covered with bandages. He picked up his pace then, practically running down the kitchen where the lights were on and a blessed, golden glow filled the space.

He slammed the door shut behind him with more ferocity than intended, backing up and leaning on the counter as the unknown fear began to ebb from his mind finally. The racing of his heart slowed again to a steady, calming beat and he rubbed his eyes. What had he been so afraid of?

A hand placed itself on his shoulder and Sinnett shrieked, whirling around with both hands raised defensively.

To his surprise, Doctor Jekyll did the same, backing up and exclaiming: “I meant no harm! I just wanted to ask if you were alright.” Sinnett swallowed hard, slowly relaxing, for some reason not at all confused that Jekyll was downstairs in the kitchen, “Yeah I, I’m fine. Just, where is everyone? I, my imagination was getting ahead of me, I thought something was wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” the doctor said, smiling and relaxing as well. “In fact, I was coming to find you.”

Sinnett felt his face heat up a little bit, “Really? You were looking for me?”

Jekyll nodded, wearing that oh-so charming smile of his, “I wanted to talk to you about something personal to me.” He was wearing only a vest and shirtsleeves, the collar loose and sleeves rolled clumsily up to the elbows. Just the top of his collarbone could be seen, but understand that in the Victorian-ish Era, just a wee bit of collarbone was more than a little scandalous.

“Something hasn’t gone wrong right? And I should think you’d go to Doctor Lanyon with something like that,” Sinnett said, praying hope beyond hope his face wasn’t turning scarlet.

Jekyll stepped up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, saying something or other about this being about Sinnett, but the pyrologist was focusing on not letting himself overheat. His eyes wandered over Jekyll’s face, lingered on his mouth, parted in that charming smile that could change tides. God did this man realize how bloody attractive he was?

And suddenly he was leaning closer, too close for a friendly conversation, and Sinnett’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest. His eyes shut as Jekyll leaned even closer, their lips barely an inch apart and-

“Oi Sinnett! Sleeping on the job again?” called a voice.

Sinnett sat bolt upright at his desk, goggles falling eskew onto his face, heart still racing from the vivid near encounter within the realm of dreams. Of course, of course it had been a dream, how else would the Society of Arcane Sciences been so quiet? He rubbed at his eyes tiredly and looked towards the voice, spying Pennebrygg strolling into the lab, a box of various parts in his arms and a wide smile on his face. “Must’ve been one hell of a dream, you look as if someone you fancy just asked you for a drink.”

“I, could use a drink,” he countered, pulling his goggles down so they hung around his neck and running his hand through his hair. There was still that tint of embarrassment in his cheeks and he could feel his heart racing in his chest a mile a minute.

Yes, that was the crush that hadn’t faded in the slightest since its conception, and by far the one that was the least attainable. Jekyll was a man of status, a doctor, and a man for Heaven’s sake, and Sinnett was a glorified pyromaniac with a hand of clockwork. What did he have to offer Jekyll in the slightest? Hadn’t he caused enough trouble as it was?

It was only three days since he’d last set something on fire after all, new record…

“Ey Tony, you alright lad? You look, dizzy,” Pennebrygg said, setting his half emptied box of gadgets on the desk beside where Sinnett had taken his little nap. The pyrologist sighed, “I’m fine, just, think I need some air. And food, for that matter, haven’t eaten since two.”

“Well it’s almost ten now, you better go ‘fore Rachel puts the soup away.”

“She made soup? And you didn’t wake me?” he asked, sounding mockingly offended as he stood from the desk, gathering some papers in a pile and setting his pen neatly atop the stack. He chuckled and gave Pennebrygg a little wave as he turned to leave, “Don’t touch my stuff.”

“I never do Anthony!” was the response.

For the second time in as many hours, or so it felt, Sinnett wandered out of the lab into the halls of the Society, aiming for the kitchen.

He passed Griffin and Archer on the way downstairs, noting how happy they seemed to be while chatting with one another, arms folded on the banister, nearly touching but not quite. In the lobby, watching a small clockwork butterfly flutter in circles, were Lavender and Flowers, who seemed to be enjoying one another’s company greatly. Helsby’s booming laugh echoed from above and a look revealed him and Mosley laughing about something on a floor above, all smiles.

Sinnett’s heart, though it ached for something, felt a little lighter as he passed these happy friends of his. Lavender caught his arm as he passed them, asking if he was coming out with them tonight for drinks, and with a wide smile he agreed.

After he got something proper to eat of course.

With a smile, he strode towards the kitchen and nearly skipped past Doctor Jekyll’s office doors, but there he paused. He tilted an ear and heard laughter, Jekyll’s laughter and the familiar voice of Doctor Lanyon telling some story in an overly pretentious and dramatic tone. Sinnett chuckled too as he turned and continued towards the kitchen, hands in his pockets, heart singing a new song.

Yes he would pine, and yes it would ache, but one must pause to reflect on what they’d been gifted. He had friends aplenty, a home that care for him, and who knows? Maybe someone else had a crush on him and their heart ached like his. But most of all, his friends were all happy.

They knew they were loved, felt love and shared it with those that were the objects of their affections without fear, regardless of gender. The topic of gender alone usually made Sinnett ashamed of his fancies, but here, at the Society, it seemed okay. And it was okay to not be the one in the spotlight, to watch his crushes fall in love and be loved, it really was okay.

It was good to see them happy.

And it, actually, was enough for his ticking clockwork heart.

#my writing #the glass scientists

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readbookywooks · 7 years

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Owls

Ron's euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch cup was such that he couldn't settle to anything next day. All he wanted to do was talk over the match, so Harry and Hermione found it very difficult to find an opening in which to mention Grawp. Not that either of them tried very hard; neither was keen to be the one to bring Ron back to reality in quite such a brutal fashion. As it was another fine, warm day, they persuaded him to join them in revising under the beech tree at the edge of the lake, where they had less chance of being overheard than in the common room. Ron was not particularly keen on this idea at first--he was thoroughly enjoying being patted on the back by every Gryffindor who walked past his chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of 'Weasley is our King'--but after a while he agreed that some fresh air might do him good. They spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time. 'Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Davies's, so I wasn't feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came towards me, just out of nowhere, I thought--you can do this! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goalhoop-- my right, obviously, his left--but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left--his right, I mean--and--well--you saw what happened,' he concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them--a bunch of gossiping third-year Hufflepuffs--had heard him. 'And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later--What?' Ron asked, having stopped mid-sentence at the look on Harry's face. 'Why are you grinning?' 'I'm not,' said Harry quickly, and looked down at his Transfiguration notes, attempting to straighten his lace. The truth was that Ron had just reminded Harry forcibly of another Gryffindor Quidditch player who had once sat rumpling his hair under this very tree. 'I'm just glad we won, that's all.' 'Yeah,' said Ron slowly, savouring the words, 'we won.Did you see the look on Chang's face when Ginny got the Snitch right out from under her nose?' 'I suppose she cried, did she?' said Harry bitterly. 'Well, yeah-- more out of temper than anything, though ...' Ron frowned slightly. 'But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?' 'Er--' said Harry. 'Well, actually ... no, Ron,' said Hermione with a heavy sigh, putting down her book and looking at him apologetically. 'As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies's first goal.' Ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment. 'You didn't watch?' he said faintly, looking from one to the other. 'You didn't see me make any of those saves?' 'Well--no,' said Hermione, stretching out a placatory hand towards him. 'But Ron, we didn't want to leave--we had to!' 'Yeah?' said Ron, whose face was growing rather red. 'How come?' 'It was Hagrid,' said Harry. 'He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the Forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. Anyway ...' The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron's indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity. 'He brought one back and hid it in the Forest?' 'Yep,' said Harry grimly. 'No,' said Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. 'No, he can't have.' 'Well, he has,' said Hermione firmly. 'Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me,' she snorted, 'as Hermy.' Ron gave a nervous laugh. 'And Hagrid wants us to ... ?' 'Teach him English, yeah,' said Harry. 'He's lost his mind,' said Ron in an almost awed voice. 'Yes,' said Hermione irritably, turning a page of Intermediate Transfiguration and glaring at a series of diagrams showing an owl turning into a pair of opera glasses. 'Yes, I'm starting to think he has. But, unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise.' 'Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all,' said Ron firmly. 'I mean, come on ... we've got exams and we're about that far--' he held up his hand to show thumb and forefinger almost touching '--from being chucked out as it is. And anyway ... remember Norbert? Remember Aragog? Have we ever come off better for mixing with any of Hagrid's monster mates?' 'I know, it's just that--we promised,' said Hermione in a small voice. Ron smoothed his hair flat again, looking preoccupied. 'Well,' he sighed, 'Hagrid hasn't been sacked yet, has he? He's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near Grawp at all.' The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth-years this meant only one thing: their OWLs were upon them at last. Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to revising those topics the teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the OWLs from Harry's mind, though he did wonder occasionally during Potions lessons whether Lupin had ever told Snape that he must continue giving Harry Ooclumency tuition. If he had, then Snape had ignored Lupin as thoroughly as he was now ignoring Harry. This suited Harry very well; he was quite busy and tense enough without extra classes with Snape, and to his relief Hermione was much too preoccupied these days to badger him about Occlumency; she was spending a lot of time muttering to herself, and had not laid out any elf clothes for days. She was not the only person acting oddly as the OWLs drew steadily nearer. Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their revision practices. 'How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?' he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes. 'I dunno,' said Ron. 'A few.' 'More or less than eight?' 'Less, I s'pose,' said Ron, looking slightly alarmed. 'I'm doing eight,' said Ernie, puffing out his chest. 'Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eights my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday--only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday--' Harry was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy had found a different way to induce panic. 'Of course, it's not what you know,' he was heard to tell Crabbe and Goyle loudly outside Potions a few days before the exams were to start, 'it's who you know. Now, Father's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years--old Griselda Marchbanks--we've had her round for dinner and everthing ...' 'Do you think that's true?' Hermione whispered in alarm to Harry and Ron. 'Nothing we can do about it if it is,' said Ron gloomily. 'I don't think it's true,' said Neville quietly from behind them. 'Because Griselda Marchbanks is a friend of my gran's, and she's never mentioned the Malfoy's.' 'What's she like, Neville?' asked Hermione at once. 'Is she strict?' 'Bit like Gran, really,' said Neville in a subdued voice. 'Knowing her won't hurt your chances, though, will it?' Ron told him encouragingly. 'Oh, I don't think it will make any difference,' said Neville, still more miserably. 'Gran's always telling Professor Marchbanks I'm not as good as my dad ... well ... you saw what she's like at St. Mungo's ...' Neville looked fixedly at the floor. Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, but didn't know what to say. It was the first time Neville had acknowledged that they had met at the wizarding hospital. Meanwhile, a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth- and seventh-years. Harry and Ron were much tempted by the bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir offered to them by Ravenclaw sixth-year Eddie Carmichael, who swore it was solely responsible for the nine 'Outstanding' OWLs he had gained the previous summer and was offering a whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. Ron assured Harry he would reimburse him for his half the moment he left Hogwarts and got a job, but before they could close the deal, Hermione had confiscated the bottle from Carmichael and poured the contents down a toilet. 'Hermione, we wanted to buy that!' shouted Ron. 'Don't be stupid,' she snarled. 'You might as well take Harold Dingle's powdered dragon claw and have done with it.' 'Dingle's got powdered dragon claw?' said Ron eagerly. 'Not any more,' said Hermione. 'I confiscated that, too. None of these things actually work, you know.' 'Dragon claw does work!' said Ron. 'It's supposed to be incredible, really gives your brain a boost, you come over all cunning for a few hours--Hermione, let me have a pinch, go on, it can't hurt--' 'This stuff can,' said Hermione grimly. 'I've had a look at it, and it's actually dried doxy droppings.' This information took the edge off Harry and Ron's desire for brain stimulants. They received their examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs during their next Transfiguration lesson. 'As you can see,' Professor McGonagall told the class as they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, 'your OWLs are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory papers in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night. 'Now, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs and Self-Correcting Ink. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbour at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Gryffindor. Our new--Headmistress--' Professor McGonagall pronounced the word with the same look on her face that Aunt Petunia had whenever she was contemplating a particularly stubborn bit of dirt '--has asked the Heads of House to tell their students that cheating will be punished most severely--because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon the Headmistress's new regime at the school--' Professor McGonagall gave a tiny sigh; Harry saw the nostrils of her sharp nose flare. '--however, that is no reason not to do your very best. You have your own futures to think about.' 'Please, Professor,' said Hermione, her hand in the air, 'when will we find out our results?' 'An owl will be sent to you some time in July,' said Professcr McGonagall. 'Excellent,' said Dean Thomas in an audible whisper, 'so we don't have to worry about it till the holidays.' Harry imagined sitting in his bedroom in Privet Drive in six weeks' time, waiting for his OWL results. Well, he thought dully, at least he would be sure of one bit of post that summer. Their first examination, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. Harry agreed to test Hermione after lunch on Sunday, but regretted it almost at once; she was very agitated and kept snatching the book back from him to check that she had got the answer completely right, finally hitting him hard on the nose with the sharp edge of Achievements in Charming. 'Why don't you just do it yourself?' he said firmly, handing the book back to her, his eyes watering. Meanwhile, Ron was reading two years' worth of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly; Seamus Finnigan was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practising basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table. Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Harry and Ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. Hermione, on the other hand, kept putting down her knife and fork and diving under the table for her bag, from which she would seize a book to check some fact or figure. Ron was just telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate. 'Oh, my goodness,' she said faintly, staring into the Entrance Hall. 'Is that them? Is that the examiners?' Harry and Ron whipped around on their bench. Through the doors to the Great Hall they could see Umbridge standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Umbridge, Harry was pleased to see, looked rather nervous. 'Shall we go and have a closer look?' said Ron. Harry and Hermione nodded and they hastened towards the double doors into the Entrance Hall, slowing down as they stepped over the threshold to walk sedately past the examiners. Harry thought Professor Marchbanks must be the tiny, stooped witch with a face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs; Umbridge was speaking to her deferentially. Professor Marchbanks seemed to be a little deaf; she was answering Professor Umbridge very loudly considering they were only a foot apart. 'Journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!' she said impatiently. 'Now, I haven't heard from Dumbledore lately!' she added, peering around the Hall as though hopeful he might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. 'No idea where he is, I suppose?' 'None at all,' said Umbridge, shooting a malevolent look at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were now dawdling around the foot of the stairs as Ron pretended to do up his shoelace. 'But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track him down soon enough.' 'I doubt it,' shouted tiny Professor Marchbanks, 'not it Dumbledore doesn't want to be found! I should know ... examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did NEWTs ... did things with a wand I'd never seen before.' 'Yes ... well ...' said Professor Umbridge as Harry, Ron and Hermione dragged their feet up the marble staircase as slowly as they dared, 'let me show you to the staff room. I daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey.' It was an uncomfortable sort of an evening. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute revising but nobody seemed to be getting very far. Harry went to bed early but then lay awake for what felt like hours. He remembered his careers consultation and McGonagall's furious declaration that she would help him become an Auror if it was the last thing she did. He wished he had expressed a more achievable ambition now that exam time was here. He knew he was not the only one lying awake, but none of the others in the dormitory spoke and finally, one by one, they fell asleep. None of the fifth-years talked very much at breakfast next day, either: Parvati was practising incantations under her breath while the salt cellar in front of her twitched; Hermione was rereading Achievements in Charming so fast that her eyes appeared blurred; and Neville kept dropping his knife and fork and knocking over the marmalade. Once breakfast was over, the fifth- and seventh-years milled around in the Entrance Hall while the other students went off to lessons; then, at half past nine, they were called forwards class by class to re-enter the Great Hall, which had been rearranged exactly as Harry had seen it in the Pensieve when his father, Sirius and Snape had been taking their OWLs; the four house tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor McGonagall stood facing them. When they were all seated and quiet, she said, 'You may begin,' and turned over an enormous hour-glass on the desk beside her, on which there were also spare quills, ink bottles and rolls of parchment. Harry turned over his paper, his heart thumping hard--three rows to his right and four seats ahead Hermione was already scribbling--and lowered his eyes to the first question: a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly. Harry had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll ... smiling slightly, he bent over the paper and began to write. 'Well, it wasn't too bad, was it?' asked Hermione anxiously in the Entrance Hall two hours later, still clutching the exam paper. 'I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time. Did you put in the counter-charm for hiccoughs? I wasn't sure whether I ought to, it felt like too much--and on question twenty-three--' 'Hermione,' said Ron sternly, 'we've been through this before ... we're not going through every exam afterwards, it's bad enough doing them once.' The fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four house tables had reappeared for the lunch hour), then they trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practised wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake. Hermione's name was called. Trembling, she left the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle and Daphne Greengrass. Students who had already been tested did not return afterwards, so Harry and Ron had no idea how Hermione had done. 'She'll be fine, remember she got a hundred and twelve per cent on one of our Charms tests?' said Ron. Ten minutes later, Professor Flitwick called, 'Parkinson, Pansy--Patil, Padma--Patil, Parvati--Potter, Harry.' 'Good luck,' said Ron quietly. Harry walked into the Great Hall, clutching his wand so tightly his hand shook. 'Professor Tofty is free, Potter,' squeaked Professor Flitwick, who was standing just inside the door. He pointed Harry towards what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner who was sitting behind a small table in a far corner, a short distance from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing Draco Malfoy. 'Potter, is it?' said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Harry as he approached. 'The famous Potter?' Out of the corner of his eye, Harry distinctly saw Malfoy throw a scathing look over at him; the wine-glass Malfoy had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. Harry could not suppress a grin; Professor Tofty smiled back at him encouragingly. 'That's it,' he said in his quavery old voice, 'no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me.' On the whole, Harry thought it went rather well. His Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malfoy's had been, though he wished he had not mixed up the incantations for Colour Change and Growth Charms, so that the rat he was supposed to be turning orange swelled shockingly and was the size of a badger before Harry could rectify his mistake. He was glad Hermione had not been in the Hall at the time and neglected to mention it to her afterwards. He could tell Ron, though; Ron had caused a dinner plate to mutate into a large mushroom and had no idea how it had happened. There was no time to relax that night; they went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in revision for Transfiguration next day; Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with complex spell models and theories. He forgot the definition of a Switching Spell during his written paper next morning but thought his practical could have been a lot worse. At least he managed to Vanish the whole of his iguana, whereas poor Hannah Abbott lost her head completely at the next table and somehow managed to multiply her ferret into a flock of flamingos, causing the examination to be halted for ten minute; while the birds were captured and carried out of the Hall. They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday (other than a small bite from a Fanged Geranium, Harry felt he had done reasonably well); and then, on Thursday, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Here, for the first time, Harry felt sure he had passed. He had no problem with any of the written questions and took particular pleasure, during the practical examination, in performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the Entrance Hall. 'Oh, bravo!' cried Professor Tolty, who was examining Harry again, when Harry demonstrated a perfect boggart banishing spell. 'Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Potter ... unless ...' He leaned forwards a little. 'I heard, from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point ... ?' Harry raised his wand, looked directly at Umbridge and imagined her being sacked. 'Expecto patronum!' His silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and cantered the length of the Hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress and when it dissolved into silver mist Professor Tofty clapped his veined and knotted hands enthusiastically. 'Excellent!' he said. 'Very well, Potter, you may go!' As Harry passed Umbridge beside the door, their eyes met. There was a nasty smile playing around her wide, slack mouth, but he did not care. Unless he was very much mistaken (and he was not planning on telling anybody, in case he was), he had just achieved an 'Outstanding' OWL. On Friday, Harry and Ron had a day off while Hermione sat her Ancient Runes exam, and as they had the whole weekend in front of them they permitted themselves a break from revision. They stretched and yawned beside the open window, through which warm summer air was wafting as they played wizard chess. Harry could see Hagrid in the distance, teaching a class on the edge of the Forest. He was trying to guess what creatures they were examining--he thought it must be unicorns, because the boys seemed to be standing back a little--when the portrait hole opened and Hermione clambered in, looking thoroughly bad-tempered. 'How were the Runes?' said Ron, yawning and stretching. 'I mis-translated ehwaz,' said Hermione furiously. 'It means partnership, not defence,I mixed it up with eihwaz.' 'Ah well,' said Ron lazily, 'that's only one mistake, isn't it, you'll still get--' 'Oh, shut up!' said Hermione angrily. 'It could be the one mistake that makes the difference between a pass and a fail. And what's more, someone's put another Niffler in Umbridge's office. I don't know how they got it through that new door, but I just walked past there and Umbridge is shrieking her head off--by the sound of it, it tried to take a chunk out of her leg--' 'Good,' said Harry and Ron together. 'It is not good!' said Hermione hotly. 'She thinks it's Hagrid doing it, remember? And we do not want Hagrid chucked out!' 'He's teaching at the moment; she can't blame him,' said Harry, gesturing out of the window. 'Oh, you're so naive sometimes, Harry. You really think Umbridge will wait for proof?' said Hermione, who seemed determined to be in a towering temper, and she swept off towards the girls' dormitories, banging the door behind her. 'Such a lovely, sweet-tempered girl,' said Ron, very quietly, prodding his queen forward to beat up one of Harry's knights. Hermione's bad mood persisted for most of the weekend, though Harry and Ron found it quite easy to ignore as they spent most of Saturday and Sunday revising for Potions on Monday, the exam which Harry had been looking forward to least--and which he was sure would be the downfall of his ambitions to become an Auror. Sure enough, he found the written paper difficult, though he thought he might have got full marks on the question about Polyjuice Potion; he could describe its effects accurately, having taken it illegally in his second year. The afternoon practical was not as dreadful as he had expected, it to be. With Snape absent from the proceedings, he found that he was much more relaxed than he usually was while making potions. Neville, who was sitting very near Harry, also looked happier than Harry had ever seen him during a Potions class. When Professor Marchbanks said, 'Step away from your cauldrons, please, the examination is over,' Harry corked his sample flask feeling that he might not have achieved a good grade but he had, with luck, avoided a fail. 'Only four exams left,' said Parvati Patil wearily as they headed back to Gryffindor common room. 'Only!' said Hermione snappishly. 'I've got Arithmancy and it's probably the toughest subject there is!' Nobody was foolish enough to snap back, so she was unable to vent her spleen on any of them and was reduced to telling off some first-years for giggling too loudly in the common room. Harry was determined to perform well in Tuesday's Care of Magical Creatures exam so as not to let Hagrid down. The practical examination took place in the afternoon on the lawn on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where students were required to correctly identify the Knarl hidden among a dozen hedgehogs (the trick was to offer them all milk in turn: Knarls, highly suspicious creatures whose quills had many magical properties, generally went berserk at what they saw as an attempt to poison them); then demonstrate correct handling of a Bowtruckle; feed and clean out a Fire Crab without sustaining serious burns; and choose, from a wide selection of food, the diet they would give a sick unicorn. Harry could see Hagrid watching anxiously out of his cabin window. When Harry's examiner, a plump little witch this time, smiled at him and told him he could leave, Harry gave Hagrid a fleeting thumbs-up before heading back to the castle. The Astronomy theory paper on Wednesday morning went well enough. Harry was not convinced he had got the names of all Jupiter's moons right, but was at least confident that none of them was inhabited by mice. They had to wait until evening for their practical Astronomy; the afternoon was devoted instead to Divination. Even by Harry's low standards in Divination, the exam went very badly. He might as well have tried to see moving pictures on the desktop as in the stubbornly blank crystal ball; he lost his head completely during tea-leaf reading, saying it looked to him as though Professor Marchbanks would shortly be meeting a round, dark, soggy stranger, and rounded off the whole fiasco by mixing up the life and head lines on her palm and informing her that she ought to have died the previous Tuesday. 'Well, we were always going to fail that one,' said Ron gloomily as they ascended the marble staircase. He had just made Harry feel rather better by telling him how he had told the examiner in detail about the ugly man with a wart on his nose in his crystal ball, only to look up and realise he had been describing his examiner's reflection. 'We shouldn't have taken the stupid subject in the first place,' said Harry. 'Still, at least we can give it up now.' 'Yeah,' said Harry. 'No more pretending we care what happens when Jupiter and Uranus get too friendly.' 'And from now on, I don't care if my tea-leaves spell die, Ron, die--I'm just chucking them in the bin where they belong.' Harry laughed just as Hermione came running up behind them. He stopped laughing at once, in case it annoyed her. 'Well, I think I've done all right in Arithmancy,' she said, and Harry and Ron both sighed with relief. 'Just time for a quick look over our star-charts before dinner, then ...' When they reached the top of the Astronomy Tower at eleven o'clock, they found a perfect night for stargazing, cloudless and still. The grounds were bathed in silvery moonlight and there was a slight chill in the air. Each of them set up his or her telescope and, when Professor Marchbanks gave the word, proceeded to fill in the blank star-chart they had been given. Professors Marchbanks and Tofty strolled among them, watching as they entered the precise positions of the stars and planets they were observing. All was quiet except for the rustle of parchment, the occasional creak of a telescope as it was adjusted on its stand, and the scribbling of many quills. Half an hour passed, then ar hour; the little squares of reflected gold light flickering on the: ground below started to vanish as lights in the castle windows were extinguished. As Harry completed the constellation Orion on his chart, however, the front doors of the castle opened directly below the parapet where he was standing, so that light spilled down the stone steps a little way across the lawn. Harry glanced down as he made a slight adjustment to the position of his telescope and saw five or six elongated shadows moving over the brightly lit grass before the doors swung shut and the lawn became a sea of darkness once more. Harry put his eye back to his telescope and refocused it, now examining Venus. He looked down at his chart to enter the planet there, but something distracted him; pausing with his quill suspended over the parchment, he squinted down into the shadowy grounds and saw half a dozen figures walking over the lawn. If they had not been moving, and the moonlight had not been gilding the tops of their heads, they would have been indistinguishable from the dark ground on which they walked. Even at this distance, Harry had a funny feeling he recognised the walk of the squattest of them, who seemed to be leading the group. He could not think why Umbridge would be taking a stroll outside after midnight, much less accompanied by five others. Then somebody coughed behind him, and he remembered that he was halfway through an exam. He had quite forgotten Venus's position. Jamming his eye to his telescope, he found it again and was once more about to enter it on his chart when, alert for any odd sound, he heard a distant knock which echoed through the deserted grounds, followed immediately by the muffled barking of a large dog. He looked up, his heart hammering. There were lights on in Hagrid's windows and the people he had observed crossing the lawn were now silhouetted against them. The door opened and he distinctly saw six sharply defined figures walk over the threshold. The door closed again and there was silence. Harry felt very uneasy. He glanced around to see whether Ron or Hermione had noticed what he had, but Professor Marchbanks came walking behind him at that moment and, not wanting to look as though he was sneaking looks at anyone else's work, Harry hastily bent over his star-chart and pretended to be adding notes to it while really peering over the top of the parapet towards Hagrid's cabin. Figures were now moving across the cabin windows, temporarily blocking the light. He could feel Professor Marchbanks's eyes on the back of his neck and pressed his eye again to his telescope, staring up at the moon though he had marked its position an hour ago, but as Professor Marchbanks moved on he heard a roar from the distant cabin that echoed through the darkness right to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Several of the people around Harry ducked out from behind their telescopes and peered instead in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Professor Tofty gave another dry little cough. 'Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls,' he said softly. Most people returned to their telescopes. Harry looked to his left. Hermione was gazing transfixed at Hagrid's cabin. 'Ahem--twenty minutes to go,' said Professor Tofty. Hermione jumped and returned at once to her star-chart; Harry looked down at his own and noticed that he had mis-labelled Venus as Mars. He bent to correct it. There was a loud BANG from the grounds. Several people cried 'Ouch!' when they poked themselves in the face with the ends of their telescopes as they hastened to see what was going on below. Hagrid's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him. 'No!' cried Hermione. 'My dear!' said Professor Tofty in a scandalised voice. 'This is an examination!' But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star-charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him; he was still upright and still, as far as Harry could see, fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a man yelled, 'Be reasonable, Hagrid!' Hagrid roared, 'Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!' Harry could see the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping repeatedly at the wizards surrounding him until a Stunning Spell caught him and he fell to the ground. Hagrid gave a howl of fury, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw him; the man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. Hermione gasped, both hands over her mouth; Harry looked round at Ron and saw that he, too, was looking scared. None of them had ever seen Hagrid in a real temper before. 'Look!' squealed Parvati, who was leaning over the parapet and pointing to the foot of the castle where the front doors had opened again; more light was spilling out on to the dark lawn and a single long black shadow was now rippling across the lawn. 'Now, really!' said Professor Tofty anxiously. 'Only sixteen minutes left, you know!' But nobody paid him the slightest attention: they were watching the person now sprinting towards the battle beside Hagrid's cabin. 'How dare you!' the figure shouted as she ran. 'How dare you!' 'It's McGonagall!' whispered Hermione. 'Leave him alone! Alone,I say!' said Professor McGonagall's voice through the darkness. 'On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such--' Hermione, Parvati and Lavender all screamed. The figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than four Stunners at Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more. 'Galloping gargoyles!' shouted Professor Tofty, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. 'Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!' 'COWARDS!' bellowed Hagrid; his voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. 'RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT-- AN' THAT--' 'Oh my--' gasped Hermione. Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold. Harry saw Hagrid double over, and thought he had finally been overcome by a spell. But, on the contrary, next moment Hagrid was standing again with what appeared to be a sack on his back--then Harry realised that bangs limp body was draped around his shoulders. 'Get him, get him!' screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid's fists; indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with Fang still hung around his neck. Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed; and Hagrid, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness. There was a long minute's quivering silence as everybody gazed open-mouthed into the grounds. Then Professor Tofty's voice said feebly, 'Um ... five minutes to go, everybody.' Though he had only filled in two-thirds of his chart, Harry was desperate for the exam to end. When it came at last he, Ron and Hermione forced their telescopes haphazardly back into their holders and dashed back down the spiral staircase. None of the students were going to bed; they were all talking loudly and excitedly at the foot of the stairs about what they had witnessed. 'That evil woman!' gasped Hermione, who seemed to be having difficulty talking due to rage. 'Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night!' 'She clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Trelawney's,' said Ernie Macmillan sagely, squeezing over to join them. 'Hagrid did well, didn't he?' said Ron, who looked more alarmed than impressed. 'How come all the spells bounced off him?' 'It'll be his giant blood,' said Hermione shakily. 'Its very hard to Stun a giant, they're like trolls, really tough ... but poor Professor McGonagall ... four Stunners straight in the chest and she's not exactly young, is she?' 'Dreadful, dreadful,' said Ernie, shaking his head pompously. 'Well, I'm off to bed. Night, all.' People around them were drifting away, still talking excitedly about what they had just seen. 'At least they didn't get to take Hagrid off to Azkaban,' said Ron. 'I 'spect he's gone to join Dumbledore, hasn't he?' 'I suppose so,' said Hermione, who looked tearful. 'Oh, this is awful, I really thought Dumbledore would be back before long, but now we've lost Hagrid too.' They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Harry, Ron and Hermione, were now telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower. 'But why sack Hagrid now?' asked Angelina Johnson, shaking her head. 'It's not like Trelawney; he's been teaching much better than usual this year!' 'Urnbridge hates part-humans,' said Hermione bitterly, flopping down into an armchair. 'She was always going to try and get Hagrid out.' 'And she thought Hagrid was putting Nifflers in her office,' piped up Katie Bell. 'Oh, blimey,' said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. 'It's me who's been putting the Nifflers in her office. Fred and George left me a couple; I've been levitating them in through her window.' 'She'd have sacked him anyway,' said Dean. 'He was too close to Dumbledore.' 'That's true,' said Harry, sinking into an armchair beside Hermione's. 'I just hope Professor McGonagall's all right,' said Lavender tearfully. 'They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window,' said Colin Creevey. 'She didn't look very well.' 'Madam Pomfrey will sort her out,' said Alicia Spinnet firmly. 'She's never failed yet.' It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. Harry felt wide awake; the image of Hagrid sprinting away into the dark was haunting him; he was so angry with Umbridge he could not think of a punishment bad enough for her, though Ron's suggestion of having her fed to a box of starving Blast-Ended Skrewts had its merits. He fell asleep contemplating hideous revenges and arose from bed three hours later feeling distinctly unrested. Their final exam, History of Magic, was not to take place until that afternoon. Harry would very much have liked to go back to bed after breakfast, but he had been counting on the morning for a spot of last-minute revision, so instead he sat with his head in his hands by the common-room window, trying hard not to doze off as he read through some of the three-and-a-half-feet-high stack of notes that Hermione had lent him. The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their face-down examination papers. Harry felt exhausted. He just wanted this to be over, so that he could go and sleep; then tomorrow, he and Ron were going to go down to the Quidditch pitch--he was going to have a fly on Ron's broom--and savour their freedom from revision. 'Turn over your papers,' said Professor Marchbanks from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. 'You may begin ' Harry stared fixedly at the first question. It was several seconds before it occurred to him that he had not taken in a word of it; there was a wasp buzzing distractingly against one of the high windows. Slowly, tortuously, he at last began to write an answer. He was finding it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. He simply skipped question four (In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, goblin riots of the eighteenth century?), thinking that he would go back to it if he had time at the end. He had a stab at question five (How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749 and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?) but had a nagging suspicion that he had missed several important points; he had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere. He looked ahead for a question he could definitely answer and his eyes alighted upon number ten: Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join. I know this, Harry thought, though his brain felt torpid and slack. He could visualise a heading, in Hermione's handwriting: The formation of the International Confederation of Wizards ... he had read those notes only this morning. He began to write, looking up now and again to check the large hour-glass on the desk beside Professor Marchbanks. He was sitting right behind Parvati Patil, whose long dark hair fell below the back of her chair. Once or twice he found himself staring at the tiny golden lights that glistened in it when she moved her head slightly, and had to give his own head a little shake to clear it. ... the first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards was Pierre Bonaccord, but his appointment was contested by the wizarding community of Liechtenstein, because-- All around Harry quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of his head. What was it that Bonaccord had done to offend the wizards of Liechtenstein? Harry had a feeling it had something to do with trolls ... he gazed blankly at the back of Parvati's head again. If he could only perform Legilimency and open a window in the back of her head and see what it was about trolls that had caused the breach between Pierre Bonaccord and Liechtenstein ... Harry closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, so that the glowing red of his eyelids grew dark and cool. Bonaccord had wanted to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights ... but Liechtenstein was having problems with a tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls ... that was it. He opened his eyes; they stung and watered at the sight of the blazing white parchment. Slowly, he wrote two lines about the trolls, then read through what he had done so far. It did not seem very informative or detailed, yet he was sure Hermione's notes on the Confederation had gone on for pages and pages. He closed his eyes again, trying to see them, trying to remember ... the Confederation had met for the first time in France, yes, he had written that already ... Goblins had tried to attend and been ousted ... he had written that, too ... And nobody from Liechtenstein had wanted to come ... Think, he told himself, his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers and the sand trickled through the hour-glass at the front ... He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last ... the black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors ... Straight across the stone floor and through the second door ... patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry ... He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others ... Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres ... his heart was beating very fast now ... he was going to get there this time ... when he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows ... But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal ... Harry's stomach contracted with fear ... with excitement ... A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness ... 'Take it for me ... lift it down, now ... I cannot touch it ... but you can ...' The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm ... heard the high, cold voice say 'Crucio!' The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted and the figure groaned and became motionless. 'Lord Voldemort is waiting ...' Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance ... 'You'll have to kill me,' whispered Sirius. 'Undoubtedly I shall in the end,' said the cold voice. 'But you will fetch it for me first, Black ... you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again ... we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream ...' But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk on to the cold stone floor; Harry awoke as he hit the ground, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him.

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