hello nerd

a private harry p science fi mm. penned by p. you alone saw the horrors of war and wept when we did not believe you.

[onceweptarchive]

tracker

beela  ──  back siestas, mcdoc, jily fifa  ── elilan, julieen shleby  ──  prewetts z  ──  ♡

[onceweptarchive]

𝐭. 𝐦.

»»————-　➴　————-««

      THE HOUSE FELT MORE LIKE HOME, SOMEHOW, WITH HIM THERE. Thea hadn’t admitted how empty it’d felt since he’d moved out, years ago, but now that he was back, she realized what had been lacking. His presence in the kitchen, his seat at the table. Even his small comment on the placemats made her smile as she turned. It was strange, this feeling of rightness in a time that felt so wrong. The war was raging, and she felt helpless, and confused, but at least he was curled up on the couch beside her. At least, when she’d close her eyes, she’d know he was here, with her.

      Her eyelids had, somehow, gotten droopy. It was the lack of sleep, mixed with the feeling of safety that she’d been missing for so long. If he’d given it a few more minutes, Thea might’ve drifted, but his question pulled her back. “Worried about me are you?” she teased, although it was half-hearted, and quite a bit sleepy. Really, Thea didn’t know what she wanted to do. She wanted to rage and scream and fight, but she also knew that she was limited in many aspects. Unlike anyone on the other side of a battle, Thea didn’t have magic. There was never going to be a wand in her pocket. But, that didn’t stop her from wanting to help; wanting to be there with supplies or with potions at the ready. She could, at the very least, use a cauldron. Luckily for her, that didn’t take much else other than a bit of skill.

     “I’m not really sure,” she said, softly, turning to face him, searching his face ever so slightly. “I want to help, that’s all I know. I don’t think… Well, I’m not much help on a battlefield anyway, am I? Not with a wand.” Thea sucked in a deep breath at the mention of war, and then finally asked him the question in return; the question that scared her more than the thought of throwing herself into the Order. “And what about you? Are you… D’you think you’ll keep fighting?”

...

            HE WORRIES ABOUT HER MORE THAN HE DOES HIMSELF. That is the simple truth, and Caradoc knows they can trust each other with an honesty like that.  “  Just - you don’t go anywhere, yeah?  ”  Not anywhere she can’t come back from, he means. There was something existential about the death of one who many viewed as some primordial being. If nothing else, Dumbledore’s death was a reminder that these things had to be said before it was too late. She turns towards him and he meets her eyes, and he is quick to shake his head.  “  You could be our secret weapon, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if you sent them all fleeing in the opposite direction.  ”  The humor on his tongue feels ill placed in light of things, though he nods as if in thought at the suggestion.  “  Yeah, I could see that.  ”  

          Head falls back against the sofa at her question, and Doc gives a half-hearted shrug.  “  I don’t know what else I can do.  ”  At times this seemed hopeless. But the world they are fighting for is just close enough he can see it; the people he is fighting with give him hope for that.  “  I know it’s more important now than before, and I’ll do it. I want to.  ”  There is already talk of a rescue. Though the numbers are small and the plan hardly formed, there’s a simplicity in seeing something and knowing exactly what must be done; he sees this, he knows what to do.  “  We have to get them out.  ”

[onceweptarchive]

𝐬. 𝐛.

SIRIUS WAS THINKING OF ONLY JAMES. Fuck the order and fuck their plans and whatever the fuck ‘next steps’ was supposed to mean. Everyone acted as if this whole thing was something else that they needed to cross off a checklist ; as if a whole bloody month in Azkaban was nothing more than an inconvenience. He had thought he would be able to rest once James free, that he would stop feeling as if he was trying to escape his own skin but Sirius still felt as if James might disappear if he looked away.

Sirius had never had much to offer when it came to comfort but James had others for that. He knew James well enough to know that he was downplaying the entire thing but neither of them knew of a better way to deal with this. And God most of all he hated feeling like this. The way he couldn’t quite figure out how to be around James - couldn’t figure out how to say the things he needed to say - couldn’t quite figure out what to do with this new fear that had settled in his chest. “Well she has that glare she brings out for special occasions, yeah?” he grinned, “It throws people off. Not everyone is as used to it as you mate.” Sirius spoke as he almost fell off the arm of the couch in order to catch the galleon before throwing it up in the air victoriously. “Losing it, huh? I can’t believe you let the Dementor’s win at their jobs,” he joked but he was already on his feet. “I have the bike upstairs,” he nodded towards the roof, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

...

             A FOND SMILE AT THE MENTION OF LILY.  James always found himself amazed by her, the command she had of a room despite being the same size as their toddler. He nods in thought,  “  yeah, s’pose there is something terrifying about a red-headed five-foot-something, now you mention it.  ”  He knew he would be treated differently. What he hadn’t known was just how much he would hate it, being looked at as if he might wither away in the blink of an eye. James was here, thanks to the help of some friends and against the general consensus of the larger group. He would be fine, and it was his job to remind everyone of that as often as he could. At least with Sirius, he didn’t have to talk about it.  “  Dementors are just following their passions. They have to make a living just like everyone else.  ”  

            That’s all it takes to get him up on his feet.  “  Why didn’t you say so?  ”   It does strike him momentarily that this mind that this is a bad idea. It’s a bit selfish, like he’s squandering this second chance and treating the sacrifice made by his friends recklessly. But it’s an informed decision: informed by the fact that Sirius and James have gotten themselves into and out of every single situation they've ever found themselves in together. And who can blame him for a certain need to feel light again? He’s off to the door in a few strides, steps inflated with a newfound buoyancy. Before they can be seen they’re up on the roof, and he’s stopping Sirius before he gets too comfortable on the escape pod.  “  Oi, Azkaban survivor gets to drive, mate. I don’t make the rules.  ”

[onceweptarchive]

𝐦. 𝐦.

who: rory finni/egan ( @oncewept​ )  where: mary’s flat when: day dumbledore rips

          MARY DOESN’T WANT TO BE ALONE. it’s a sad thought as she walks home from her shift at st mungos, rain blowing sideways and missing her umbrella almost completely. she’s done this walk many, many times before; it always soothes her more than simply apparating home. but it’s unsettling tonight - how could it not be, after everything that happened? she clung to a radio as she worked, hearing the updates that caused her to be sick in the restroom between patients. they assumed this would happen but they tried to stop it. she thinks of dumbledore, murdered, of the order hopefully returning from a failed mission. she thinks of what this means for them, for her. she wants to fall into the couch sandwiched between her friends and rest in their safety - but it’s not that easy anymore.          when she closes the door to her flat she senses someone to her side, and she’s so tense that she acts without thought. mary swings her umbrella in the person’s direction, landing with a large thud against their side. it’s only then that she remembers she’s a witch - that there’s a perfectly fine wand tucked up her sleeve, and it slides effortlessly into her hand.  “pertifi-” the word dies on her tongue as she turns to fully face the intruder, her heart beating widely in her ears as she stares at him. “rory. what – why,” her breaths are uneven as she looks at him, her grip on her wand tightening. she’s relieved to see him, truly, but it doesn’t exactly show right away - not when she’s slowly getting over being terrified that one of them have broken into her flat. she closes the door behind her, leaning against it. “do you think now is good time to sneak into my flat?”  

—

              RORY COULDN’T WAIT TO SEE HER. The truth of the matter was their short run had turned into a much longer ordeal than either of the boys had expected, several days had somehow become three weeks away. Parchment had been surprisingly difficult to come by in the mountains of Croatia and his owls had been scarce, something Rory was prepared fully to explain and apologize for. He’s pacing the flat as he waits, eager to see her. When he hears the latch to the door open, he smooths back his hair, apology flowers in hand as he rounds the corner just in time for her to turn around.  “  Some arseholes were asking about blood status at the portkeys, what’s that all abou—Christ, Mare!  ”

              He fails to dodge the weaponized umbrella, his next words more of a wheeze thanks to the blow to his abdomen. When she raises her wand he puts his hands up defensively, flowers he’d been holding are dashed wildly in the air.  “  It’s just me.  ”  Someone with a greater regard for social curtesies might have waited for a decent hour to go knocking. And when they found an empty flat, they absolutely would not have found their way inside courtesy of the window with the bad latch. Rory didn’t know who the fuck that someone else was, but his first instinct after a failed knocking attempt was almost always forced entry.  “  Hardly snuck in. Tripped over the plant at the window sill. Bad place for it, by the way.  ”  He’s woefully unaware of the ridiculousness of that statement, being somewhat preoccupied with this surprise attack on neutral ground. He decides to take full advantage, rubbing thoughtfully at the spot on his side, flowers dangling a bit pathetically now having lost a few petals in the fray.  “  How was I supposed to know you’d come in guns blazing? You know, I think you might have broken a rib.  ”

[onceweptarchive]

𝐣. 𝐦.​​

—

IT HAD SURPRISED HIM ; the way they had fallen back together. Julian knew he was far past forgiveness  but somehow he had managed to find his way back to the only place that had ever felt like home. They don’t dare to name this thing between them, as fragile as it is, and he doesn’t ask for more than she gives but she keeps him hopeful and he keeps her close. Julian sees the way she watches him as if she is afraid to look away and he wants to put her at ease but he doesn’t want to make any more promises he won’t be able to keep. So he says nothing and she stays and her presence makes him want to see the other side of this thing.

Julian hadn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep and slips out of bed, careful not to wake her up. It would be the easiest thing to leave in this moment. It is an urge as old as he can remember, as familiar as the loneliness he had carried with him his entire life. Alastor would be relieved and Julian would be free of watching his brother drive himself to his own ruin. He could leave except that Eileen is sleeping in the next room and that keeps him between these four walls even as he paces the length of his apartment once, twice and over and over again, always stopping at the door and turning back.

He ends up in the kitchen, washing the glass that were sitting beside the sink if only to give his hands something to do. He does it once and then again and again until it breaks in his hand, slicing his palm. The cut isn’t deep but the water runs red with his blood and Julian looks at the broken shard for a beat too long before he calmly cleans up the mess and presses a paper towel to his hand until it stops bleeding. His hands are shaking and he hangs his head over the sink, not knowing exactly how much time passes until he feels her press her head against the thin fabric of his t shirt. The slightest smile pulls at his lips. 

“Yeah I know—” he starts to say, turning around to look at her. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. I get it” and he does. It was everything Alastor took on and Azkaban on top of it. He doesn’t blame him but Julian can feel Alastor’s hands around his throat ; can see the look on his brother’s face. He shakes his head and his mind spins and he is twenty  and Alastor is pushing their father away from him and then the room spins again and he is on the floor of the safehouse with his brother’s hands closing around his throat. He has to hold onto her arm to steady herself. He leans against her, lowering his head until it meets the crook of her neck and tears prick against his eyelids. He closes his eyes tightly, willing the tears to not fall and his voice is shaky as he repeats the words, “I get it.”

...

              SHE WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND JULIAN.  No matter what details he shared she would never really know him in the way she wanted to; she came from a family where love was abundant, she came from a family where something like this would shatter them, where it wouldn’t be brushed aside. Eileen would never understand Julian but she loved him, she always had and this time together had only made that more glaringly apparent.  “  Hey, hey, come here,  ”  it startles her, the look on his face. His eyes are looking past her, far away, and when he grabs her arm she thinks for a moment he might be going down.  “  It isn’t fine. It matters,  ”  she thinks he must know this even as she takes him into her arms, even as his voice cracks against the force of the words in his throat and causes her to wonder if maybe he doesn’t after all. The truth of the matter is she’s angry at Alastor. She blames him for this, blames him for all the choices leading up to it and all the choices that would surely follow. Eileen repeats her words, cradling his head against her chest. All she can offer him are consoling words, shocked into a sort of tenderness.  “  It matters, Julian. You’re allowed this. You are.  ”

              She doesn’t want to pull back, as if keeping him close to her might fix something, but the small patch of blood on her sleeve is visible and so she has to.  “  Have you hurt yourself? Let me see─  ”  she takes his hand in hers, seeing the cut on his palm that had reopened. If there was one thing she could do for him now it was healing surface wounds. Eileen turns aside to rummage in the drawers in search of dittany before returning to him, a small amount does the trick for what could hardly even be classed as a laceration and she smoothes it over his palm in silence. She has seen countless worse injuries on strangers and friends and healed them all, but something about this causes tears to prickle at her eyes. She keeps them trained on his open hand, tracing the line there. Would you tell me next time? She wants to ask, will you let me be with you? But she knows the answer may be one she doesn’t want to hear. Instead she glances back up with an easier question, one that won’t hurt if he says no.  “  Will you come back to bed?  ” 

[onceweptarchive]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧.   post azzy breakout.   ／   𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.   the burrow.

              IT TOOK A VILLAGE TO RAISE A FAMILY.  She and Arthur’s vision for theirs never looked quite like this: one parent gone and the other left alone. It had never been a consideration. And when the worst happened, she was terrified. She was angry. She was all of these things out of view of the children because for them she had to be strong. But she had never been alone. Gideon and Fabian made sure of that. Still, that didn’t mean that either of her brothers were well equipped to managing a houseful of children. For that reason, she’s half expecting the roof to be blown off the place. Molly knits her brows at the smell of something (something that isn’t the billowing smoke of a fire) wafting out of the window as she makes her way up the walk, and the witch could nearly collapse when she sees the laundry basket is already hard at work folding itself into neat little piles. 

             She calls out her arrival to the house, which is unsettlingly silent, before making her way towards the kitchen in search of some form of life. An incredulous laugh erupts at the sight before her: Gideon with her apron on, cookbook open, stirring a pot on the stove.  “  The boys are awfully quiet this evening,  ”  there’s an airiness to the statement that makes it come off slightly disbelieving. She makes her way to the cupboard to gather dishes, looking at him all the while.  “  And you’re cooking?  ”  Suspicion is less of a suggestion now, laced in her question as she motions for the plates to arrange themselves on the table. Molly comes up from behind, peering over his shoulder at the food.  “  You know Percy will sing the moment I ask him.  ”

[buffylives]

It’s okay. I got you.

Tara Khanna and Karan Mehra MADE IN HEAVEN Season 1

[onceweptarchive]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧.   post azzy breakout.   ／   𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.   julian’s flat.

              THEY’D FALLEN BACK INTO THIS PATTERN FAR EASILY THAN EXPECTED.  When he came back she told herself she would keep him at a distance, that she wouldn’t forgive him so easily. But Julian had that way of breaking down any walls Eileen built; she wanted to care for him, wanted him to know he was deserving of that, even after what he may have done. Since Alastor’s arrest, they’ve found themselves together most nights. It was selfish, and in part useless; Julian was beyond consoling and Eileen was afraid of what he might do because of it. Tonight was hardly different, even with the world in its upheaval and their rescue attempt successful, she found herself at his flat by night’s end.

             Julian asked her to help with Alastor and she did what she could. She was there when he woke, witness to the waking terror that led him to see Julian as an enemy rather than his brother. She was there when the others ran in to subdue him. She was there to treat Julian’s wounds. And she was there now, reaching out for him in sleep only to find his spot empty. When she finds him he is leaning over the counter just down the hall, and she tries to ignore the feeling that had begun to twist in her chest. Eileen approaches in silence, resting her head against his back. They stay that way for a moment before she finally speaks.  “  You need to rest. There’s nothing more you can do for him but wait.  ” 

@ncfunerals​

[onceweptarchive]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞.   post azzy breakout.   ／   𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.   the order hq.

               EDGAR’S FRIENDSHIP HAD BECOME SOMETHING OF A SAVING GRACE.  Their’s had been a relationship that lasted through years, a reminder of the children they used to be, a thread that stretched across time and distance. She hadn’t realized how reliant she’d become on it until he was taken away. A month with a knot in her stomach, with worry boiling under the surface of every encounter. It was dangerous now, coming here. She and the children should have been as far removed from this as possible. And yet there was very little in the world that could keep Molly Weasley at bay when she set her mind to something. She had set her mind to seeing him with her own eyes, making sure he know’s he is not alone. So she found her way here when she could, her visits often lasting no more than five minutes at a time, other’s stretching for an hour or more before she could bring herself to part with him. 

               He was asleep when she arrived and so she sat, unsure of whether it was for Edgar’s sake or her own. She often wondered after Arthur if she was capable of being loved like that again, capable of loving in that same way. Sitting in the silence across from Edgar, Molly believed she was. When he wakes she becomes suddenly more aware of the hold she has on his hand, offers a reassuring squeeze.  “  Looking better by the day, you know.  ”  The frailest of smiles, Molly knows well enough that appearances can be misleading.  “  I’m glad to see you awake.  ”

[onceweptarchive]

𝐩. 𝐩.

who: jeejee & peepee ( @oncewept​​​​ ) where: order headquarters  when: like 2 days after release

       FELLOW ORDER MEMBERS have been encouraging him to visit ever since James was suitable for visitors - and of course they have, Peter’s one of his best mates. His hesitancy outside of the bedroom door is met with a clap on the back, some comforting words. Promising him that they’ve cleaned him up and he doesn’t look all that bad. Peter wishes that’s why his hands felt so clammy and the task felt daunting. He knows he can’t put it off for much longer - wishes he had his friends by his side, wishes he had any of that Gryffindor courage he had in school. He feels as if he’s about to lose his breakfast as he finally steps inside, eyes falling immediately to where his friend lays on the bed.

       “They lied to me out there,” he starts, his voice shaking, betraying any ease that he’s trying to convey, “said you didn’t look like shite.” There’s a chair next to the bed that Peter falls into - he imagines someone must’ve brought it in for Lily, or Sirius, or Remus, or anyone else who has beat him here. “Sorry -” he plans to say more but it catches, clearing his throat as his attention falls to his lap, where his hands toy with his sleeves, “for not coming in sooner.” That’s not all, of course - he wants to say that he wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t know what it was like to be caught up with the Death Eaters, wouldn’t understand what they’re like, that he had no choice. But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he forces himself to take another look at him. “James Potter, Azkaban Fugitive. Quite a title you’ve got now.” 

...

           JAMES FIXES HIS POSTURE.  When he hears the knock his back straightens instinctively, he dons an attentive look. But when Peter comes into view he relaxes again, ease settling over him. James finds himself smiling, not because someone wants to see him do it, but because he’s relieved. If anyone will treat him as if this is all ordinary, it’s Peter.  “  Yeah, thanks. I’ll be sure to tell the dementors you aren’t a fan of their work.  ”  He’d asked after Peter more than once during Sirius’ first visit (and then during his second, and his third). Remus had checked in, and Mary, and so on down the list of friends and acquaintances until it seemed Peter was the only person left to see. James was glad to see him now, in any case.  “  I’ve been shite company, mate. Ask anyone. It’s better you waited.  ”  

             Azkaban Fugitive. He can’t tell if its the residual effects of Mary’s sleeping draughts or the fact that he’s in the presence of a friend, but the reality of his situation seems somewhat lighter, shrouded in a sense of mirth.  “  How’s the wanted poster, by the way——if it’s bad I don’t want to know. ”  A shake of the head, James’ smile fades ever so slightly as he studies the other’s movements; he knows Peter, he’s grown up with him. Though he hadn’t always been the best at it in the past, by now James can tell when something is wrong. A cloud of concern settles over his face, head tilting in question.  “  Alright, Pete?  ”

[onceweptarchive]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞.   post azzy breakout.   ／   𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.   sirius’ flat.

             IT FELT LIKE HE’D BEEN OUT OF THE LOOP FOR FAR TOO LONG.  James is restless, buzzing with newfound righteousness and ready to know the full truth. He’s spent far too many hours doing far too little, and he had never been well suited to that. Yes, he might need draughts to sleep without having terrors, and yes there was still very little food he could stomach, but no one needed to worry about any of that. There were bigger problems to be had, and James was trying not to think about it much himself.  “  They’re scared of Lils, I swear. No one’s telling me anything. What’s she threatened them with?  ”  

             He studies the galleon he’s been twirling in his fingertips as the beginning of a thought forms. Lingering like some gaunt form at headquarters was just not sustainable, and quite frankly, James was growing bored. Some time out would do him good. It may have been against all the rules of his current predicament, but in the company of Sirius rational thinking was all too often an afterthought. He sits up from where he was previously sunken into the sofa, the galleon glints as he tosses it towards his friend.  “  We have to get out of here, mate. I’m losing it.  ”  

@ncfunerals​

[onceweptarchive]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞.   rly soon post azzy breakout etc etc.   ／   𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.   order hq.

             THIS WAS ANOTHER OF THOSE DREAMS.  He’d had flashes of them, images of Lily staring down at him, brows knit in concern; of Sirius saying he’d be back soon, unease clear in his voice; of the practiced concern on Mary’s face as she held another draught to his lips. They’d felt real, but then so had everything else in the time that had passed since his capture. So had the figures of friend’s writhing in pain, of his mum’s voice calling out to him until he felt he could stomach no more, of Lily’s eyes lifeless and empty and so very much like Harry’s. These dreams were sweeter. These were the dreams he wanted to stay in, the ones that wrapped him in the comfort that came with knowing his loved ones were alive and safe.

             He murmurs something in response to the cool touch of a hand against his forehead, the sensation causing him to stir.  “  Lils,  ”  without thinking he reaches out to stop her from pulling away, lids still closed against the light. He remembers the impossibly loud crash of stone that gave way to salt air, blinding light. He was not dreaming anymore, he reminds himself for the thousandth time, these were not tricks. The stone walls of Azkaban are once again at a reasonable distance, the oppressive weight completely lifted from his bones.  “ Lily, come here.  ”  He wants to comfort her, makes room on the bed beside him. This peace seems almost a heavier burden, if only because he knows how fragile it can be. When she’s settled beside him on the bed he speaks again, words more a thank you than a question.  “  You’ve been here the whole time?  ” 

@nitwitisms​

[onceweptarchive]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞.   4th jan, 1983.   ／   𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.   thea’s place.

               THE FIRST THOUGHT THAT CROSSED HIS MIND when he heard the news was what it might mean for Thea. The second was that without Dumbledore, without Moody and Bones, they were all royally fucked. The Death Eaters were likely to be coursing through a list of suspects by now, and people were lingering more than usual with worries about what or who might be waiting for them at home. He’d had more than his fill of discussion and worry and solitude; with difficulty he’d managed to keep himself from looking too let down each time someone entered a room and it wasn’t Thea. She’d always had that way of telling when that worry began to pull at him, though, so when she appeared before leaving with an offer to her flat Doc found himself agreeing.

              No matter how they tried to navigate this, it was an odd situation---to be a guest in a place that once felt very much like home. So when the pair found themselves far away from the public comfort of the safe house, Doc found he had very little to say. There had hardly been any shared words between them beyond his commentary on the new placemats, beyond her offerings of food or drink, beyond his muttered no thank-you’s. Everything there was to say about the current state of affairs had already been said ten times over. Yet Thea, in that thoughtful way of hers, hadn’t let any of that deter her. His tea ran cold and ultimately went untouched, though at the very least the mug gave him something to do with his hands. 

             It’s late now and Thea is curled up on the armchair beside him. The knowledge that she is there has kept him still under the blanket thus far, but when at last the silence has become too much he speaks the question that’s been on his mind all evening.  “  Will you lie low for a while?  ”  It isn’t his place, not anymore. But Dumbledore himself is dead and some of the best wizards he knows are stuck in the worst place any of them can imagine. Doc can’t help that his thoughts keep landing back on her, he can’t help but worry that in the rage of it all Thea might throw herself further into a danger that grows each day. That she will be hurt because of it.  “  Wondering if you’ve given that much thought, is all.  ”  

[onceweptarchive]

nitwitisms​:

who: bellatrix lestrange ( @oncewept​ ) where: the ministry. when: january 1st, 1983. 

     THIS HORROR SHOW OF A DAY WOULD BE NEVER-ENDING. Narcissa hadn’t known; hadn’t seen past her husband’s cruel mask. It felt like only figuring out the answer to a question, when the question didn’t even matter anymore. He was always a puzzle, and she was always missing that last piece. But now, as it clicked, she mourned him, the feeling not just a dull ache in her stomach. Now that she knew who he was, what he would’ve done to protect their family, she felt as if she’d missed out on a man who she might’ve loved. Those little glimpses she saw of him, those kindnesses, maybe it mattered more to her than she’d thought.

     Draco was home, today. She wasn’t going to let him anywhere near the Ministry. Anywhere near the bloody scene. Lucius and Dumbledore were gone now, and the world was theirs. Or, at the very least, that’s what she kept telling herself. They’d won, they’d won. Bellatrix was on top. Evan was head auror. She was head obliviator.

     Then why did she feel like she’d lost everything?

     The news had broke when Lucius was brought into the room, and Narcissa had stayed, watching, expressionless. But, now, she felt as though she had to do some damage control. Despite the fact that her heart was broken. Despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to go home and find her son and hold him close. Instead, she found her sister and pulled her aside, eyes following them even as she completed that simple motion. When they were finally by themselves, she met Bellatrix’s eyes, head on, and said simply, “I didn’t know.”

—

        THAT HAD NEVER BEEN A QUESTION.  It would make little difference if Narcissa had known, save for painting Bellatrix false or righteous in her defense. Still she finds a certain humor in knowing this was Lucius’ doing entirely. Every bit of the plan had seemed the work of a coward and a fool, two things Narcissa had never been. Enveloped now in the privacy between sisters the witch steps forward, pulling the younger close. There are no words of comfort to be spared save for a simple statement.  “  It is taken care of.  ”  When hadn’t it been? It was no secret that Bellatrix had the Dark Lord’s ear in a way few others did. If he had his way the Malfoy estate would be reduced to ash, her sister and nephew nothing more than charred remains. Yet it was Bellatrix who proposed they turn this to their advantage. It was Evan who suggested the humiliation of such a public display. They risked themselves and would do so again. For who else, save Narcissa?

        Their efforts may have spared them the price of Lucius’ mistakes, but that did not mean mother and son would come out unscathed. The veil of suspicion was now hers to bear, and Narcissa’s every move would be scrutinized. There were bargains struck on her behalf; the decisions had been made without consultation. A half life would be better than none at all.   “  He will require it. The mark.  ”   The older witch speaks it into the room, pulling back only once the statement has been passed between them. With it comes the immediate understanding of what it means - a life sentence, the payment of Lucius’ debts. He would require unwavering loyalty without hesitation, and in return she would live. Draco would live. Bellatrix leaves no room for discussion, no room for question when she takes the other’s face into her hands.  “  Of you. And of Draco, when he is of age.  ”

[onceweptarchive]

“ i’m  never  letting  go .   ” (for mcmeadowes)

      ──     “    it was an accident!    ”    explosive laughter interrupts the protest, and dorcas finds herself struggling to keep up that affronted look. she manages long enough, feeling very pleased with herself when the smile breaks out on marlene’s face as well. the crime in question was a spilled drink — her own, of course, sloshed into marlene’s lap thanks to doe’s wild gesticulations. she forgets what the story is now, probably one they’ve shared a hundred times or more, in these very seats at this very bar. but that drink has long since been replaced by another, and another, and dorcas is filled with a merriment that makes everything seem simple. because it always had been, between them. 

she looks up to speak again, but for what must be the first time in history words fail her. even now she knows she will look back on this moment in the years to follow, through the span of the war and the hurt that it brings. she will remember this very second: looking at marlene in a dimly lit pub and being hit with the realization that she is completely and utterly in love, that she feels completely and utterly seen. but in the moment, in the face of that knowledge, she can only offer a breathy laugh as she swoops in for a another sip of beer. it’s a sobering thought that hits her all at once, a bit exhilarating. a bit terrifying.    “    grudges are bad for the complexion, you know.    ”    a light shake of her head, a hint of mirth remaining there as she wags a cautionary finger.    “    we can’t have you ending up like an old crone.  ” 

[onceweptarchive]

hope u die

i hope we BOTH die

[ofshelters]

“i will go if you ask me to” for macfinn <3 @oncewept​

the tea in mary’s cup has gone cold long ago, still she cradles it tightly in her hand, seeking warmth as if she’s charmed it. there’s a slight chill in her flat - even with the fireplace crackling, even with a blanket wrapped around them, even with his hand laying heavily on her thigh. she’s not quite sure what time it is, with the dreary clouds hiding any glimpse of the january sun, it’s early but not enough. she wonders how long they’ll be able to sit like this. cuddled together on her worn-down sofa, limbs tangled, soft voices as to not disturb the peace they’ve created. there’s a slight unease in her - knowing that she’s waiting, waiting for the moment he decides he needs to leave. there will be some rambled excuse ready on his tongue; one about meeting up with finn, one about needing to do something for work, one about not wanting to be there when her friends arrive. 

thing have been so inconsistent with them recently - or ever since hogwarts, if she’s honest with herself - that she finds herself growing anxious at the thought of him leaving. he’s shit at responding to her owls, at letting her into other parts of his life. it often feels like she’s at his whim - her door kept unlocked, always, in case he decides to show. it’s why she’s caught off guard when he speaks, interrupting the silence that has surrounded them. she takes a breath, the hand resting casually on his arm making its way up to rest against his neck. “that’s never been the issue, has it?” there’s a sad smile on her lips as her fingers absentmindedly play with the hair at the nape of his neck, his hand squeezing slightly in return. mary tries to make him look at her eyes, to get him to see that that’s never what she wanted. if he always leaves - sometimes in a rush, others taking minutes to finally put on his coat - because he thinks she’s had enough, she’s clearly rubbish at communicating with him. but she wonders if he knows this, too. if he understands how she sees him. there’s a look in his eye as he stares at her now, that makes her think he does. “you’re always welcome here, rory. for as long as you’d like.”