Collapsing Space

I try to save it for a rainy day It's raining all the time harry potter : auror : high council

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@theselostandbrokenhearts​

“Do you expect anything else from me?” Sometimes Hermione felt something akin to guilt that she was such a realist (pessimist?) but she never saw the point in dredging up false hope. Better to keep one’s expectations low and be pleasantly surprised. On this occasion, however, she would try for her old friend’s sake. 

“It is nice to be able to sit and breathe. And I am happy for Hagrid and Madame Maxime.” It was like a fairy tale, or a romance book - the sort of thing she had read in her younger days. “I think the celebration is doing good for morale as well.”

Harry grinned more cheerfully at her, dipping his head in an approving nod. She didn’t need to be patronised and told to be optimistic - she knew more about what was going on than he, he was sure - but it was good to see her trying all the same. 

“It is,” he confirmed. “Honestly, that’s the important part. Don’t think I’d have been as for it if it weren’t for morale. It’s kind of a drain on resources and a strain on staff and everyone’s left their positions, but...” He grimaced. “Trying not to convince myself against it.”

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theselostandbrokenhearts:

Hermione knew she didn’t even need to ask but she couldn’t help herself. It was habit. But the lovely thing about such an old friend was that he understood her nearly as well as she understood herself. She took the seat gratefully, crossing her ankles and surveying the crowd as she answered. “Things are as we can expect, I suppose. It’s like the old days but worse because we’re trapped here, and I know we’re trapped. How are you?” After everything he had been through before, Harry deserved a break more than anyone, and yet here he was again. No doubt shouldering too much responsibility once more.

“Putting your usual positive spin on it, I see,” he remarked with a bitter breath of laughter. He couldn’t say he blamed her. Undoubtedly, he felt exactly the same way. Happy as the occasion was, they were trapped, both physically and with that unnerving, pervading sense of doom just on the corner of things. He grimaced in response to her question. 

“Trying to take my mind off that, where possible. At least for today. Its nice to be able to breathe, don’t you think?”

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@of-wood​

Liam could only smile when Harry appeared relieved that he had introduced himself. He had no hard feelings. Harry Potter was a very important person, and his only claim to fame was playing some minor league quidditch. “What do I do here?” Liam asked for clarification. “I’m part of the Forage division. Sneaking around is just one of my many talents,” he joked.

Harry nodded obligingly. “Yeah,” he confirmed, looking ahead to the young man as he listened, huffing a quick laugh at his joke. “Interesting. Well, thanks for keeping us afloat. What are these many talents?” 

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@lioneheartedsidekick​

Having finally found some mead and drinking it, Sure it was a wedding and everyone seemed to be in high spirits (or on the verge of getting drunk), and it was for someone he considered a friend but something in the back of his mind made him think the wedding reception was a bad idea. Drinking his mead, Ron finally took a moment to look around the room.  

His first instinct had been to see where his family was before he saw it. A large stack of the most amazing food that he had seen in quiet a while. Smiling he started making his way over thinking about the wedding and how maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Picking up some food and dumping it on his plate he saw his best friend slowly slipping his mug. “Hey Harry, Not a bad wedding right?” Ron asked as he dug into the food on his plate.

“Not at all, but what constitutes a bad wedding?” Harry wondered to his old friend, tilting his head quizzically as he offered him a warm, if somewhat sardonic smile. “I could probably fault them for their event timing, though.”

Brow raised, he looked down to Ron’s already piled plate of food and dipped his head, laughing inwardly. “Leave some for the rest of us, will you?” he teased, gesturing with a nod of his head. “You trying to keep the house elves busy?” 

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@lilyii​

As someone who had become accustomed to peril, it was almost impossible for Lily to properly let her guard down, to just rest, even within the protection of the fortress. She knew the castle walls were nearly impenetrable, but still, paranoia had taken hold of her mind and she couldn’t ever seem to fully escape its firm grasp. At this point, Lily doubted she would ever truly feel safe again. She would always triple check that her room was locked at night, and she would always sleep with her wand at her side, rousing at the softest of noises. Even before the zombie apocalypse, she had been like this, desperate for peace and relaxation that would never come. It was a product of war. ( And in turn, the PTSD she hadn’t learned to cope with just yet. )

But in spite of her underlying paranoia, Lily still felt lighter that day, lighter than she had felt in months. She might not have been able to completely let her hair down, as she had been volunteered for guard duty, but she was still blithe. There was no one who deserved happiness more than her godfather Hagrid, even if it was just a tiny sliver of happiness in the wake of a catastrophe.

At the sight of a scrumptious feast, Lily decided it was time to take her thirty minute lunch break to eat and give her father some company. Sliding into the seat next to him, she started to load her plate. “Beautiful ceremony, wasn’t it, Dad? Those little Abraxan ponies were precious. And don’t tell anyone, but I swear I saw Hagrid shed some tears at the sight of Olympe in her wedding dress.” she prattled. “Why aren’t you eating? This is the first proper feast we’ve had in almost a year, you should enjoy it.”

Looking across at the new pressure in the bench beside him, Harry smiled warmly at the sight of his daughter and her words. As much as he’d stepped aside for some peace and quiet, he was, indeed, glad of her easy-going company. He dipped his head to the side in an affectionate gesture and nodded along in agreement.

“Lovely,” he concurred distractedly, smiling idly as he nursed his mug of mead. “I think Hagrid was crying pretty much throughout. He’s a big softie like that,” he laughed, his eyes brightening at the recent memory. It was another comforting, relieving thing that hadn’t changed - that proved that the people around him were the same as always, especially those he had known since he was a boy. 

Giving her a sideways, disapproving look at her reprimand, he reached over to grab a corner cut egg sandwich from a nearby platter and obligingly took a bite, overworking his jaw in Lily’s direction to prove a point. “I am enjoying it,” he assured her. “Aren’t you? Or are you still working?” 

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@sectvmsemprvs​

“Dad!” James looked aghast, “Uncle Ron’s just over there, he might hear you—-you know how antsy he gets when he hears the words receding hairline. Gets a little eye twitch, even. And casting a plague unto my house is casting a plague unto your house, you know, you played yourself as the kids would say.”

Flinching for a moment, Harry glanced each way over his shoulder for a glimpse of Ron. As much as he could rely on the fact that James was teasing him, getting another smack over the head from Ron was a very real possibility. 

“It’s not my fault if my house deserves it,” he remarked with a shake of his head and a wry smirk in James’ direction.“It might bring your ego into check.” 

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of-wood:

Liam sat where Harry indicated, his smile still genuine. He suddenly felt like he was missing something. Maybe he should have brought over a drink or something for Harry. Whatever social graces he should have done, it was too late now. “I’m Liam Wood,” he introduced himself, figuring Harry had no reason to remember him. “My father was Oliver Wood.” He quickly cleared his throat. “How are you enjoying the party? You must be so excited for Hagrid. I know I am.”

“Ah!” From the way Harry piped up, despite his earlier politeness it was rather obvious how relieved he was for him to introduce himself. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed after the fact, though he soldiered on, keeping his own smile warm. “Of course you are. Yeah, I’ve been enjoying the change of pace, to be honest. Its nice to have a happy occasion. What do you do the rest of the year?”

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@theselostandbrokenhearts​

Hermione wasn’t sure how to feel about the wedding. She was very happy for Hagrid and Madame Maxine - she supposed - but she felt that having an entire wedding celebration was a little much. But it was nice to see everyone looking a little more cheerful and she knew it was good for morale. That would be half the battle, she thought - keeping up spirits when everyone was trapped in the castle. So she attended in her less stained dress, and made merry, and indulged in a little champagne, and when she spotted her best friend making his way to a bench out of the way, she followed him.

“May I join you?” She motioned at the bench but waited for his response before moving to sit. Sometimes a person just needed to be alone, and she respected that. There were many times when she went off to find an empty classroom just to get away from everyone.

Despite her reasonings which, he would admit, were entirely to be expected from Hermione, Harry found her question ridiculous. “Of course you can,” he replied simply, smiling up to her familiar face. That was another positive about the festivities. It brought everyone together like Hogwarts feasts had decades before. 

“How’re things, Hermione? I feel like I barely see you outside of the Council these days and you’re never exactly up for conversation then.” 

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@of-wood​

Liam loved parties, especially at Hogwarts. There was nothing like the Great Hall—especially not anymore. Other European castles had been destroyed or overrun by inferi, but this castle stood strong. Its occupants stood strong. And speaking of strong occupants—Liam eyed Harry Potter sitting alone. He remembered meeting the man once when he was a kid, but even living under the same roof, they hadn’t really spoken. Harry was a busy man and Liam now felt unsure if he should bother him. He gave himself a pep talk (Dad trained Harry Potter in Quidditch! Dad and Harry Potter fought together at the Battle of Hogwarts!), and he approached. 

“Hi, Mr. Potter. It’s kind of weird seeing you alone.” Liam smiled and tapped his fingers on the champagne glass he was holding. “Mind if I sit?”

Harry looked up at the formal introduction, his brows knotted at first before he realised who was speaking. He laughed lightly and nodded, gesturing to the space across from him genially. “Call me Harry,” he corrected with a shake of his head. “Mr Potter sounds like you want me for something. I’ve snook off on my won just to avoid that sort of thing.” 

The young man was familiar to him, though he felt bad at just how distant that familiarity was. While he couldn’t be expected to keep tabs on everyone in the castle, this one’s face felt like one he should know. 

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@sectvmsemprvs​

James had been talking to a few former housemates, laughing at a joke, when he’d looked over his shoulder and noticed him. His father, looking—-for once—-relax; one might almost say, at peace. Happy. It was a feeling they’d all been missing for too long, and James was glad for the respite, however temporary ti might be. Excusing himself, he made his way over, sneaking up on his dad and plucking a hair from his head before sitting down.

“Grey, pa, you see that? The Potter hair is our best quality—-we can’t let people know we’ve got the prematurely greying gene. What would they say in the Prophet?”

Harry yelped and smacked a hand to the back of his head. Face screwed up at the twinge of pain, but mostly at the shock of the sudden disruption, he eyed James with mocking bitterness as he rubbed his scalp. 

“I’m almost fifty years old, James, there’s nothing premature about it,” he retorted dismissively, returning both hands to fold around his mug of mead again. The challenging look he gave his son was trivialised by the half-smile he couldn’t mask. “I challenge you not to go grey around the edges when you’re my age. Better yet, I hope you inherit the Weasley’s receding hair line.” 

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@youngsoldiers​

Molly didn’t even pay attention to Harry folding the papers—though if she had, she would likely have just started calling him Mister Confidential for the remainder of the conversation, so it was a lucky thing she hadn’t—choosing to instead scan the corridor on her way to him, just in case the cheeky little ginge was hiding somewhere there.

“True,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Bet they’d be way more lethal if they were flying near your head than a Snitch, though. Merlin, just imagine trying to catch a flying cat—all of those claws,” she exclaimed. “Clearly. I mean, order’s great too,” Molly said airily, “but it’s got to be a bit of a drag sometimes, yeah? I reckon cat discussion would liven things up.” A thought struck her. Had she been someone more worried about what people thought of her, she might have kept it to herself and found out on her own time, but Molly had no such qualms. “D’you reckon, when she’s a cat, that Minnie McG can speak to real cats?” she mused, using one of the endless nicknames the younger Weasley-Potters had used to refer to Minerva over the years.

When he frowned, Molly looked at him inquisitively, though sort of wish she hadn’t decided to pay such attention when she heard him speak to himself. “Oh, yuck,” she said, grimacing, before her expression cleared a bit. “I’m going to assume she hasn’t, because her owner didn’t seem to be infected or anything, but I’ll holler for James or Al or something to help me figure it out if I find her—they’re much better at Defense than I was.” Making a face, she added, “Honestly, whose idea was the passageways? Super useful as a student, less keen on them now that there are potentially adorable zombie-kits running amok.”

Harry grimaced with her, his expression growing genuinely strained at the thought of it. He should his head, opting to work with her assumptions that everything would be fine. There was too much to be getting on with without the worry of a zombie kitten. Breathing a half-distracted laugh at her statement, Harry shrugged a shoulder. “Probably Salazar Slytherin’s doing,” he mused.

“If you’re thinking of asking Professor McGonagall to turn herself into a cat to find this kitten, I think the language barrier is the least of your worries,” he added with a more genuine laugh, watching Molly with a great fondness. As much as she could talk for England, her presence was uplifting and endlessly distracting. 

“I don’t imagine she would understand them, though, which must be pretty weird. Then again, I’m not sure I want to know what cats say about me behind my back. Anyway, I’ll be sure to raise the cat issue when she’s at a Council meeting. I’ll let you know how it goes.” His announcement came with a conspiratorial wink, as though this were some deeply serious issue they were discussing. 

[quotemadness]

Love reduces the complexity of living.

Anaïs Nin (via quotemadness)

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There was a strange sense of relief and of happiness in the air. After months of nothing but fighting, it seemed the near future held at least a little respite. There were birthdays coming up, Christmas too, but first - of all things - a wedding. Hagrid’s wedding. Who’d have thought it?

It left Harry with a distant sort of happiness, a lingering smile and a far easier disposition - though perhaps that was Madame Rosmerta’s mead. He only wished he’d had a suit or something with him, as throughout both the ceremony and now the feast, he was left in the same long worn outfit he’d worn at least twice a week since his arrival. 

That was the only facet that let down the day, however. Otherwise it was...magical. Unusual for most, largely due to the height of the bride and groom, but probably the most enjoyable occasion he’d certainly had in the better part of a year. 

For now, a little flustered by the activity and unusual mood, Harry hovered at the end of a bench, largely ignoring the surprisingly lavish food in favour of his mug. His mind felt strangely empty without the looming stress he had grown accustomed to. There was no pit in his stomach, no knots in his muscles. He felt at ease. 

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@youngsoldiers​

Molly grinned as she walked—well, more like pranced, really—down the corridor towards her uncle. An unexpected run-in with any of her family members was always welcome, but especially busy ones such as Harry. “There are a lot of gingers in this castle, aren’t there?” she mused. “I reckon we must have most of Wizarding Britain’s proportions covered with just our lot.” 

She scrunched her nose, however, at the fact that he hadn’t seen any cats. “That damn Balthazar is going to be the absolute death of me,” she said, more than a touch dramatically. “I wish he’d run off into, like, the Quidditch stands or something. I could just ask Rox to fly up and look. Kittens are much bigger than snitches, so it should have been a breeze. But no, he had to run into the castle. The one with all of the stairs. That move. And the corridors, some of which are hidden by tapestries.” Her tone had turned slightly deadpan towards the end of her tirade, but her smile was good-natured, and she didn’t really mind—it’d be nice to not be looking for a kitten in a madhouse like Hogwarts, of course, but it was definitely better than the poor patient worrying for her little cat. At Harry’s question, she exclaimed, “That’s what I was thinking! Honestly, I haven’t a clue. I s’pect they don’t circulate a rulebook to the people making their way here, though.” Tilting her head, grinning slightly, she added, “Although, Uncle Harry, I think that’s probably up to you. And Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron and the rest of the council, whatever. You have the cat power.” She assumed ol’ Minnie would be down with it, being part-cat, or whatever being a cat Animagus made her.

Harry nodded stoutly in agreement, smirking lightly. He remained in place as Molly approached him. Though he averted his gaze for a moment to fold away the leaves of paper he had been reviewing - they were not for her eyes - his attention quickly reverted back to his niece. This was a more entertaining use of his idle time than looking at his same notes for the sake of it. 

“They don’t fly as fast either,” he remarked dryly, resting his clipboard against his chest and stuffing his other hand into his pocket. “And there I thought we were here to help keep order. I see we missed the true priority all along.” He nodded in mock contemplation, taking the moment to look deep in thought at the sheer weight of such a responsibility. A more serious thought did strike him, however, making him frown deeply despite the light conversation.

“They could carry the infection without the symptoms,” he supposed quietly, more to himself. That would surely need further research. What a trial. Pursing his lips and drawing in a sigh, he looked to Molly again and smiled for her benefit. “But assuming your kitten hasn’t been bitten by any zombies, you’d best catch her before she finds a secret passage way.” 

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youngsoldiers:

Molly was not, currently, at a bedside in the infirmary, doing her best to brighten someone’s day. Instead, she found herself marching through the castle on a hunt for a cat which had arrived with one of the patients being treated by the Healers. She hadn’t even realised you could bring cats—she knew Lily had Toto, but she had been less sure that was because she was allowed than because nobody wanted to tangle with Lily on the matter. ( Molly certainly had no interest in doing so, being a great lover of Toto specifically and airily dismissive of rules in general. She was somewhat concerned that there was a rule on pets, but she chose to only concern herself with that if she managed to find the damn cat. )

“Hey!” Molly called out, turning into a new corridor and spotting someone at the end of it. “Have you seen a cat? It’s a little ginge—not a relative, not to worry, though I personally think Uncle George would be a delightful kitten—and apparently really good at hide and seek.”

So much of this job was meetings and organisations, it felt woefully similar to working at the Ministry. At the very least there was a real, serious motivation behind these, rather than simple staff meets for the sake of reaching a quota. 

Harry idled outside of the empty classroom where he was due to meet several officers of the Division of Defence, flicking through a few papers affixed to a clipboard, making a few amendments, when a familiar voice cut him off. 

Looking up, he smiled lightly down the corridor at Molly and shook his head. “Seen plenty of gingers, but no cats,” he informed her with a regrettable shrug. A cat would have made a lovely distraction. Furrowing his brows at her, he gave her a curious look. “Are you allowed cats in here?” That was one rule even he must have overlooked if so.

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@fivndfyre​

‘See, the best thing about - nay, the whole point of - graduating was the fact that I wouldn’t have to deal with with these moving stairs ever again, and now that isn’t even the case. Like, I bet on my life that when my time comes it’s not even gonna be because of the zombie apocalypse, it’s gonna be at the hands of these stairs from hell. ….At the — steps of these stairs from hell? I — whatever, point is, I’m not using them again. Ever. I am staying right here. In this very spot. Forever — or, I mean, till my next supply run, but. Forever, sort of.’

Rubbing at his brow with his first two fingers, he watched Isa’s little rant with a bemused smirk. It was about all he could offer. There certainly wasn’t anything constructive he could offer. Still, it was refreshing to hear a conversation about something other than magical zombies for a change. 

“Want me to carry you?” he offered dryly, quirking a brow at her. “Or we could just turn off the stairs. If that’s even possible. Care to try and find out?” 

[starrycelestialmusings-deactiva]

                                   Don’t underestimate the lengths I’d go to

                                -                                                                             -                                

                                        Just to proтecт those I care about