This tumblr is a horcrux. Hi! I'm Sara (aka "augustuswatersbutt")! This is my second blog, specifically for oneshots and drabbles, and other little random thoughts and rants. It will most likely be almost all Harry Potter, but others things might slip in as well. I am in love with Ronald Billius Weasley. I ship Jily like it's my job. I am also part of the Sirius Black fanclub, and a fierce defender of James Potter. Feel free to direct questions/requests/love to my ask up there ^
She is the one who initiates things. They've had years of back-and-forth, a malicious version of James and Lily's banter. He hates her, and she hates him. But they're young and twisted and hot and one evening he's walking back from dinner, and she shoves him into an empty classroom.
It's raining.
Hands on skin, lips on flesh, fire everywhere. He tears her shirt open, but she doesn't acknowledge it.
She kisses him hard, almost volatile. His fingers make bruises on her pale skin, her nails make crescent-shaped scratches all down his back. They both rip at each other, teeth gritted and eyes closed.
It's hot, rough, quick, and on top of a desk.
He straightens up weakly, sweaty, exhausted, sore, and satisfied.
"McKinnon, fancy a Firewhiskey?"
A tinkly laugh.
"I prefer to drink alone."
"Good. Let's drink alone together."
One night, while she's walking alone, he grabs her arm and pulls her to him.
She says nothing, gives no reaction at all, except her eyes. Her goddamn eyes stare up at him, full of a spectrum of so many emotions, and he freezes again. She looks so broken inside, that she could fall to pieces any moment.
He was determined to be the one to initiate things, he will be dominant, he will be harsh and rough. But now all he can think of doing is holding her in his arms and telling her everything will be alright.
He's disgusted at himself, at that thought, and he roughly lets her go, leaving.
"Marlene...?"
"What, Lily?"
"Are you alright?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I want the truth."
"Then no. No I'm not."
He finds himself touching her bare skin again, this time in his bed. He realizes that this the first time a girl has actually been in his bed at all, he's always been one for a spot that provided a quick getaway.
And he wakes up next to her, taking in her naked sleeping form. Blond hair, tousled because of him. He's rough with her and she's rough with him
But he hears small sobs. Her eyes are closed, but her brows are furrowed. She's crying in her sleep.
He doesn't wake her up, he only wraps his arms around her and pulls her close.
He doesn't want to deal with the reason behind the gesture, only the fact that as he holds her she begins to sleep peacefully again.
She's broken. He can tell she is.
He wonders what made her this way. They still don't speak, merely ambush each other. They are dysfunctional, preferring physical closeness to emotional.
But he begins to care about her, and it sickens him. He always subtly checks to make sure he knows where she is, and hates when she runs off and doesn't appear for hours.
"I'm going to fight. I don't care what you say, I know it's dangerous, but it's the right thing to do."
"But... but what if -"
"What if I die? Chances are, the way the world is changing, I'll die anyway. I might as well do something, fight for what I believe in."
They both join the Order. It was no-brainer, both of them ruthless warriors. The late nights, the drunken stupor, the numbed pain. With every death and battle and massacre it gets harder.
She keeps moving. She keeps moving, even when she's the only one who escaped that mission and the others died, and she blames herself. She keeps moving, even when she learns about Benjy Fenwick being chopped to pieces, when her brothers barely escape an attack that burned her childhood home, when sweet Dorcas Meadowes was slaughtered to send a message. She keeps moving, because she's afraid to stand still. She won't survive if she stops.
She finds herself in Sirius' arms every night both of them happen to be at Grimmauld Place together. She clings to him, wishes she could let go, tries to force herself too, because whatever she feels for him is too dangerous.
Sex with him is feeling alive. Everyone is dropping like flies all around her, and she needs a reminder that she's still breathing. She takes it out on him, everything she's feeling. And he takes it, he supports her.
She's grateful.
"It wasn't your fault."
"What?"
"I heard what happened yesterday. That's why you couldn't sleep last night."
"I can't sleep any night. Neither can you."
"...Do...do you need anything? I could - "
"Just hold me. And don't say any more. That's it."
"What are you waiting for?! Kill me, you fucking coward!" She yells, making her ear drums almost burst. Vomit is rising in her throat as the screams of her brothers echo around her head. Her nails dig into her palms, knees wobbling, body clenched as he stands in front of her.
The mask laughs, the house dark. Everything is shattered. Their new house.
"In due time, Miss McKinnon."
She feels it in her bones, like she's about to blow up, explode inside herself. She lunges at the man.
There is a struggle. Then she's on the ground, staring down the end of a wand.
Her life flashes before her, a mess of blood and sweat, and she wishes Sirius were here. She wishes her brothers weren't corpses across the wood floor of the next room. That her parents had survived the battle. That the world wasn't full of darkness that suffocates her.
"You're going to lose." She spits out before there is green, then infinite white. And she can finally breathe.
"A story of the boy who set things on fire and the girl who cried."
(Lavender Brown)
"Oi, Brown!" Seamus' voice calls from one of the compartments on the Express. You almost don't recognize it, it's lower. "You ready for this year?"
You turn slowly and shoot him a catlike grin.
The Yule Ball changes things. You and Seamus are friends now.
It's not so surprising. You're not as different from his as you previously thought. Last year led to the discovery of a shared humor and dislike of schoolwork. The fact that you also find him wildly attractive may play a part as well.
"More than you Seamus slacker Finnigan." You say. His head pokes farther out of the compartment door.
"Thought my name was Flammable Finnigan?"
You giggle. "Fine. You can be Seamus slacker Flammable Finnigan."
"Nicole, I'm not. It's Ruthie Caldwell, she's like Kate's best friend. Why would I want to go to a party that guaranteed me seeing Kate?"
Nicole huffs. "Because it's a party! And you've been moping all break."
I wince at her truthful words. I hadn't been in contact with anyone from school and hadn't left my house for anything other than a run to the drugstore and Christmas tree shopping.
"I don't know, maybe buy me a cake or something?" I mumble.
Her face softens, and she moves over to me and holds both my hands firmly. She looks at me knowingly. "Lily, I was at the Christmas party."
The day had just begun, affording everyone in the classroom to be bathed by morning light and still rubbing the sleepiness from their eyes. The seventh year students settled in as they trickled into the classroom, talking lazily to their peers, plopping down in desks, one even stealthily munching on a half-eaten apple.
James, after staying up late the night before and sleeping through breakfast, slid in to the seat next to his friend Peter without a thought.
It wasn't until Professor Flitwick had finished his introduction that he realized that on his other side, Lily Evans sat next to him.
He sat on the wooden bench, next to Sirius and Emmeline. The room is quiet for the moment, but he is sure the ceremony will start soon. Only half the Order had turned up, as funerals were so often these days (no longer special occasions)
She would not leave his mind. The skinny, stringy haired girl that the war created. Who jumped at the slightest unexpected sound, who’s warm heart was hardened and who’s mercy had been eradicated.
But he did not want to remember her that way.
Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly. But it was a hell of a lot better than the hell he was living in now.
“…and as soon as we get out of here, we can get married.” He said, brushing his fingers up and down her arm slowly. The two of them sat on the leather couch in the Gryffindor common room. Behind them, the open window blew in warm spring air, rustling papers.
She smiled, leaning her head on his chest. Her blond hair was right under his nose. It smelled like honeysuckles, sweet.
“And we’ll buy a house with a fence and a lawn, like you’ve always wanted…” He continued, painting a picture of the future for the two of them. He knew Dorcas was going to be a healer, and though he wasn’t sure what job he’d be able to apply for, he had hopes. “What color do you want to paint it?
“Buttercup yellow.” She said quietly, a smile overtaking her face.
He laughed, pulling her closer to him and into a kiss.
But the war came, then the deaths. And instead of buttercup yellow, they had red and black. Red for the blood, blood spilled every day right in front of their eyes. Black for the unbearable night that stretched on, the horrors that not even sleep could free them from.
And then came that night when she was chosen for a mission without him. He’d kissed her quickly, and her fingers slipped out of his.
That was the last time he saw her. The last time he saw red and black Dorcas Meadowes. But it had been long before that when buttercup yellow Dorcas Meadowes had died.
Remus Lupin dropped his head into his hands, fingers grabbing at his hair. She was supposed to be with him forever, to grow old in their buttercup yellow house.
But now she was gone, and with her, a part of him had died as well.
In the branches of a beech tree sat a red-haired girl, looking out at the beautiful Hogwarts grounds with emerald eyes.
There was nothing too extraordinary about this girl, despite her recessive gene traits and her aptitude for potion making, and perhaps her uncommon kindness. But all in all, she was not exceptionally special.
And therein lies the tragedy when tragedy strikes. For though she was ordinary, and the cause for her heart to be so heavy this afternoon was ordinary, reality was crushing.
"Lil? Lily, is that you up there?" A deeper voice said from below.
(WARNING: Really quickly written Jily, sort of awkward but I hope someone enjoys it anyway)
Lily Evans sat leisurely in one of the library's many wooden chairs, staring idly at a blank piece of parchment. She really should have been writing an essay, but all she could think about was curling up and falling asleep.
“Hey Evans.” Potter's voice seemed to thunder as he sat down next to her. Any other year, this would have been a rare, almost impossible occurrence, but this year he'd actually tried.
“Potter, hi.”
“Isn’t this strange? Last night at Hogwarts before Christmas break. Then we’ve only got, what? Six months or so left?”
“Wow. Six more months and then you’ll finally be completely out of my hair.”
“Come now Evans. You’ll miss me.”
Her heart panged. The reality of the fact that things were indeed coming to an end finally hit her like on oncoming train. After six months, she would really not see Hogwarts again. She had a job lined up at the Ministry, a deal with Marlene McKinnon and Mary MacDonald to share a flat, in addition to a complete five year plan she’d created in fifth year when she had her meeting with McGonagall about the future.
Her eyes shifted over to James. And it washed over her: she would miss him. He’d become such a constant fixture in her life.
She would miss his messy black hair and golden hazel eyes and his wire glasses and splattering of almost invisible freckles across his nose, and his veiny forearms and big, duck feet, and his lanky posture, and his warm voice.
She’d miss the way he would rattle on about Quidditch, even though he knew she couldn’t have cared less. She’d miss secretly watching him during games, pretending that she’d just showed up because her friends made her. She’d miss seeing him fly beautiful and effortlessly around the pitch, red robes blowing in the wind as he made yet another goal.
She’d miss arguing with him and yelling until her face turned blue. She’d miss his random kindness, like the time that she failed a Transfiguration test, so that night he brought her a piece of pie and a promise to help her with the spells.
She’d miss the way he was sort of rubbish at charms, and the way that he was dominate in dueling, but he couldn’t cast the simplest charms, like a silencing charm or even a cheering charm without a fair bit of effort. She’d miss the way he begged her for help, and then was truly grateful when she gave it.
She’d miss how sloppily happy he was when he was drunk, and how once he tried to get her to stand on her head so that they could run away and be in the muggle circus together.
She’d miss his stares from across the room, his secret smiles, his grin, his smirk, the thousands of different expressions that would pass across his face during the course of a day.
She’d miss how he’d been there when Snape had betrayed her, how he’d come after her and apologized. She’d miss how during the year they’d become friends
She would miss him. Terribly and completely.
When she finally zoned back in, James was staring at her concernedly.
“Evans? Are you ok?”
She turned to him and smiled. “You know what, I suppose I would miss you, James.” She whispered.
[x] Fate has never been kind to the unfortunate star-cross'd lovers it produces.
Take Romeo and Juliet. From the very beginning, they were destined for disaster. Kept apart by their names and houses. They loved while they could, but fate had other ideas. In the end, they died young and lovely. But they died nonetheless.
Our story centers on a pair that were not unlike Romeo and Juliet.
This time, instead of warring houses, the barrier keeping them apart was simply themselves. Because he was cocky and arrogant and self-centered, and she was bossy and controlling and prideful.
He made her skin crawl, made her muscles tense in anger by merely breathing. He was infuriating and bullying and made her feel like a cruel bitch. He mocked her, treating her like an object to ridicule instead of a human being (a woman) with feelings. He took away her control and told her truths she was too fragile to hear.
She made his heart swell, made his muscles tense in frustration and longing by merely breathing. She beat him down, though, every time he tried to woo her. She made him feel like a monumental asshole. She was unnecessarily malicious to him. She broke his confidence down inch by inch, making his heart hurt and making him question to things he once believed so strongly in.
This is the story of the boy who chased and the girl who ran.
They yelled, screamed, insulted, punched, and cried. Their fights were practically legend. Countless spills, messes, and ruined moments were casualties of these brutal brawls. But they wormed their way into each other's hearts, and somehow, as the story says, they fell in love.
But things are never that simple. For when fate finally brought them together, they were in the midst of a great turmoil between good and evil, and they were young and fearless and seemingly untouchable.
They worked as a team. They loved and laughed and lived… together. And then they had a baby.
A beautiful baby boy with his father's hair and his mother's eyes, a product of their burning love. It was like a flower growing in the midst of a charred, burned field. New life springing from the death that surrounded them.
But beauty doesn't last forever. A prophesy was made. And fate once again ripped lovers apart.
They get twisted, contorted, changed…modified. Some are quite subconscious, like the way you smell a certain smell and a time and place simply pop up in your mind… and you can't for the life of you remember the last time you thought about it. Some are things you are required to memorize, perhaps a long time ago, and just become part of the many things that you've been expected to memorize at school.
And some, no matter how horrible, you can't seem to forget for the life of you.
But then there are others, like the first time you taste chocolate fondue or your first love… that stick with you until the very end.
As the green light flashes, he remembers many things. Pieces and snippets of all parts of his life. They seem to flash past his eyes, like a movie.
He sees his father, teaching him how to mount his first toy broom… doing his first spell with his brand-new wand… meeting the boys who he would come to think of as his brothers… meeting her…going to Hogsmeade… his first Quidditch game… the first time he tried firewhiskey… mastering the Animagus transformation… when he won the Quidditch cup… the first time they kissed… his parents' funeral… the first time they had sex… their first Christmas out of Hogwarts… meeting Harry for the first time…
All these memories flash in his mind before he hits the floor.
His last thought is that he hopes is that they manage to escape.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! I'll try to hold him off — just go!"
Her heart is pounding as she runs up the stairs, desperately wishing James had his wand.
Half-way up the stairs, she hears his body hit the floor.
The tears are streaming freely down her face as she wills herself not to fall, to keep moving, but her body doesn't let her.
Finally, she summons the courage, the courage that he'd want her to have.
She throws open the door and sees Harry crying loudly in his crib. She picks him up, holds him close to her, whispers things in his ear she desperately wants him to remember for as long as he lives.
She hopes that's a long time.
But suddenly the door is thrown open and he's there, the one who killed her best friends, the one who killed her parents… the one who killed him.
"Not Harry! Please, no, not Harry — I'll do anything!" She pleads, but the narrow snake-like eyes do not soften.
Many memories flash in her mind before she hits the floor.
Her last thought is that she hopes, by some miracle, that Harry survives.
[x] There was something almost symbolic in how much Sirius and Regulus Black resembled each other.
When they were younger, they were almost inseperable. Looking more like twins than brothers, the two boys were practically glued at the hip. They did everything together, making everything a game or competition (Sirius always won). During the deathly boring pureblood get-togethers that their mother, Walburga Black, used to throw, they would run in between the guests and hide under tables, playing games to amuse themselves as the grown ups around them sat deciding their future.
The day Sirius set foot on the Hogwarts Express was a bad day for Regulus. His best friend was leaving, and he wouldn't see him until Christmas. After being lectured and fussed over by their mother, Sirius turned to Regulus.
"See you soon, Reg." He'd said, pulling him into a hug. It had been hard for Regulus to let go, but he did, and watched his big brother disappear onto the bright red train.
Then came the news. Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor. Gryffindor, the house that all Blacks were destined to detest.
And suddenly, they couldn't have been more different.
The last good day happened during summer recess before Regulus' fourth year, Sirius' sixth. The day Sirius ran away.
They'd been heading towards it for a while. The red and gold shone a little too brightly in the green and silver dark house too stay un-noticed. His loud laughs and pranks and jokes and smiles rang out amidst the gossip and the whispered sarcastic, malicious remarks.
Regulus was quiet. He'd always been quiet, but more so now that Sirius wasn't… Sirius anymore.
Sirius was loud. He'd always been loud, but more so now that it pissed off their mother.
He hated it. He hated red and gold and laughter and brawn, and lions and Gryffindor and the sorting hat and possibly all of Hogwarts. He hated James Potter and Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. He hated Sirius for being a part of that.
But maybe he just hated Sirius for leaving him.
The night Sirius ran away, Regulus told him to stop being stupid, apologize to their mother, and endure a beating. He said that he didn't want to deal with the backlash of their parents' anger if Sirius actually left.
He wanted to say that he would be crushed if he stepped out that door. He wanted to beg Sirius not to go, beg him to be his older brother again, to go back to the way things were. He wanted to tell him that he missed him, and that he loved him.
But he didn't. And so Sirius left.
Sirius saw Regulus at school, trailing after Malfoy and the other older Slytherins. It hurt him, watching him slide farther and farther into the world he rejected.
The few years they had left of going to the same school progressed. The world changed, and the contrast between the two brothers could not have been more obvious. One light, one dark.
There are fights in the corridors. Dangerous, dark hexes thrown at unsuspecting students, mostly muggleborn. Threats written on stone walls.
He sometimes wishes he hadn't left. Not because of his mother or his father or anything else, just the fact that maybe if he'd stayed he might've been able to stop Regulus from getting that terrible mark branded into his skin.
But he left. And so Regulus did.
Yes, it was striking how much the two Black brothers resembled each other, when it was common knowledge that they were, apparently "polar opposites".
Yet in the end, they both died heroes. Both died trying to help, fighting for what was right. Both matyrs, both dying for the cause. Both good.
Me: are you serious do you even know how much homework i have im stressing over so much please don't make me do it i really need to get this homework done im so tired
