TFW you get sucked into drawing a reply by a character for a blog that's been dead for over a year and then you end up spending your free time looking through that same blog and admiring all the wonderful stories that were told, people you met, art that you drew, and how PERFECT they are together that you feel compelled to draw them together while also remembering that it's the month of their 2 year wedding anniversary and so now you have found yourself doing exactly that and posting it randomly on a STILL dead blog because reasons.
I'm honestly surprised by just how drastic the difference is....If you told me four years ago that I would be drawing humans the way I do now, then I would have told you you were wrong. Never stop practicing, kids. You WILL grow and become something great.
And the season for extended disappearances. -ahem- Now to fade back into obscurity beneath mountains of rough drafts and editor’s notes. Cheers, my lovely followers. May father Christmas treat you well.
If you had told me three years ago that I would be married to the most wonderful woman in the world and have two beautiful children, I would have thought you were referring to one of my stories instead! While a majority of my life was spent getting to this point, I feel like the future holds so much for our family. Most of all, I appreciate you all being there with us when it happened...Without my friends and you, my family, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
Truly, thank you. I couldn’t ask for a greater gift.
Potions class. Normally, this was one of the young Slytherin’s favorite classes, but today, today it was dragging. The professor’s dull tone rambled on and on, cautioning the students on what ingredients to avoid when concocting this formula over that enchanted liquid. What the potion in question was, he didn’t know, nor did he care really. The only knowledge he desired was when the bells would chime to end all of this. Until then, there he sat in the back of the classroom, cheek thoughtfully supported on his hand, elbow propped up on his desk, while he idly pretended to be taking notes.
Arthur Kirkland hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks. He hadn’t spent them diligently studying, sneaking out to visit any of the other house halls, or even playing pranks on those wretched do-gooders like his classmates had. No, Arthur’s problem was a more of a mental nature than a physical one.
Nightmares.
Every night, he’d been plagued with dark thoughts, strange voices, unrelenting eyes and overwhelming dread. These nightmares were nothing new to the boy; he’d dealt with them his entire life. Most recently, however, they’d become steadily more frequent, more vivid. The ending was always the same: ambiguous. An actual ending would have been better, Arthur mused. There was some definition and purpose to dreams with a conclusion. Dreams with conclusions he could interpret, perhaps learn from. His dreams, that would typically be abruptly interrupted by his awakening, staring up at his blank ceiling in a cold sweat, were difficult. In the lull of class time, he’d caught himself attempting to remember them. He shuddered involuntarily as a chill crept up his spine from the sheer recollection.
As if responding to his unconscious need to delay the resurfacing of such memories, the bells rang, and the flurry of motion around him allowed Arthur to break out of his spell. The young wizard followed suit, packed up his quill, and headed for the door. He fell in among the sea of other students shuffling to their next class, an island of brooding uncertainty despite the fact that he was literally surrounded by other people. It was as if he was invisible, his classmates going out of their way to keep from making physical contact with him regardless of how cramped the mob was. Eventually the crowd thinned and Arthur found himself in a more familiar setting: alone.
It wasn’t something he necessarily minded, and with the nagging vision of his nightmares still fresh in his head, he wasn’t particularly in the mood for social interaction. Without the need to keep up appearances, he found it harder and harder to stay focused and alert. As he strolled down the corridor that acted as the main route towards his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he began to realize just how warm it was. The lights of the torches flickered high above him, casting shadows on the surprisingly welcoming contours of the pillars at either side. Curiosity got the better of him, and Arthur found himself walking closer to the wall, placing his hand on the rocky surface.
Though the exterior looked cold and hard, the stone was smoothly polished and held a soft glow from the firelight overhead. As soon as he’d pressed his palm to it, his head began to spin. A moment later, the side of his body slumped against the wall, cheek resting in his goldenrod locks, and sleep overtook him.
It was a contented sleep, a sleep that was drastically different from anything he’d experienced in his sad excuse for a bed in weeks. Arthur didn’t care how this had happened, he just intended to enjoy it. The dark was pleasant. The silence was heavenly. No demons had come to chase it away...at least not yet.
----------------
A voice. A voice lingered on the edge of Arthur’s mind as he lay there in the darkness.
“Well who do we have here?”
The boy refused to awaken, clinging to his temporary sanctuary for as long as he could.
“You know, sleeping in the hallways can’t be good.”
Arthur could feel the faint, cool touch of a hand on his forehead, brushing his extensive bangs from his tired eyelids. The voice was becoming clearer, more familiar. He recognized it. That annoying, underhanded, sly...yet simultaneously pleasant, reassuring voice of a certain fellow Slytherin.
“You’re lucky the awesome me found you first instead of that freckle-dork.”
The voice’s trademark hiss of laughter filled his head, causing the wizard’s once peaceful face to turn down into a frown.
“Kesesese--That’s the wizard I know.”
In a flash, Arthur’s eyes sprang open, having to catch himself on his previous pillow to keep from falling over. Diligent eyes searched back and forth, scouring the area for the voice’s origin, but the source was no where to be found. Sighing, Arthur put his hand to his head, attempting to chase away what drowsy vapors continued to linger. He wasn’t certain how long he’d been out, but he assumed from the look of the sky outside the corridor’s windows he was too late to make it to class.
“ARTHUR!”
Another familiar voice reached the boy’s ears, this time inducing a range of emotions so wide he could only stand in shock for the few precious seconds he had to compose himself just in time for the spirited youth to reach him.
He’d recognize the freckles anywhere, that unabashed grin, those bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. The Gryffindor closed the gap between them quickly, smiling from ear to ear.
“Hey there, Arthur! What a strange coincidence to meet you here in the hallway.” Alfred F. Jones chirped, repositioning his golden and red striped scarf away from his face when he finally stopped just a few inches from his companion--which the crazy fool insisted on calling him. “Wait a second, don’t you usually have class right about now?”
Arthur shifted shyly, pushing his back against the wall and his own Slytherin-house scarf above the line of his mouth. He turned his eyes away and muttered under his breath.
“I decided not to go to class today. I’m already ahead anyway.”
Alfred, seemingly satisfied at this answer, nodded in response, allowing his arms to hang comfortably at his sides.
“Well I guess that it’s not strange for a Slytherin to skip when they feel like it. You guys really need to work on your ethics.”
“I don’t think it’s any business of yours…” Arthur’s voice trailed off, digging his chin deeper into the folds of his scarf, “I should get going.”
“Going where? I thought, ya know,” Alfred straightened his glasses, a bashful expression spreading across his features, “Since we’re both here and all, maybe we could walk to the mess hall together. T-That is! If you wanted to, I mean, I totally understand if you have other stuff to do, but you were just kinda standing here in the hall and all so I just figured--”
The stern, icy glance from the Slytherin cut Alfred’s ramblings short, and without any further discussion, Arthur turned on his heels, trudging off in the opposite direction of wherever the freckled wizarded was heading.
“Uh-Oh! Okay, goodbye then! I’ll talk with you later, Arthur.”
the boy waved, Arthur cringing at the sound of his own name being called out in such a familiar fashion.
Hiding behind his cat-eared mop, the wizard hoped Alfred couldn’t seemed the embarrassed shade of red his cheeks were turning as he rounded the corner and left the other standing in the hallway, concerned and more than a little confused. Arthur vowed to himself he would never be caught off-guard like that again. He didn’t intend on making a habit of sleeping in hallways.
Alfred F. Jones wasn’t sure why he was traipsing through this particular part of Hogwarts, but here he was. His Care of Magical Creatures course had just ended and he seemed to have gotten side-tracked on his way back to the main building. The subject wasn’t his favorite, but today’s lesson had been interesting-for once. They’d spoken all about Equines: pegasi, thestrals, unicorns, and any number of hoofed beasts that existed just outside their borders in the Forbidden Forest and beyond. Alfred had found the portion about unicorns particularly intriguing; their connection with magic and healing properties fascinated the young Gryffindor so much that he wondered if a certain grumpy wizard would have any further knowledge about them.
The change from the grassy hills of the courtyard to the harsh cobble of the school’s familiar floors pulled him out of his musings and focused his eyes forward. Care of Magical Creatures was his last course before dinner was served in the mess hall, and boy was he hungry! Well, he was always hungry, but tonight’s menu was one of his favorites. He’d planned to meet his brother, Matthew, there as per usual. Yet upon passing one of the old grandfather clocks that occasionally dotted the corridors, he realized he was terribly late.
The young wizard picked up his pace, golden-red scarf whipping behind him while he skidded around the next corner. A few ghosts that idly floated in the hallways turned as he passed, one silver-haired phantom shouting out for an explanation such a hasty retreat.
“Sorry, Al! Can’t talk now--Gonna be late for dinner!”
Alfred didn’t wait for a response, having to grasp one of the building’s old stony pillars to ensure he didn’t stumble over his own feet in all his rushing. As he rounded the final bend towards his destination, something caught his eye. Out of his peripheral vision, he spotted the fluttering of silver and green: slytherin colors. Normally a Gryffindor wouldn’t have given a Slytherin student the time of day, but Alfred F. Jones had a reason-a very important reason-to pay attention. He stopped in his tracks just in time to see the bands whip out of sight. Curiosity got the better of him and despite the fact that he was becoming increasingly late for his dinner appointment, he followed after it.
Cautious, he peeked about the corner’s edge, both surprised and a little disappointed to find nothing of interest there. At least nothing at first. He stepped out into the hallway, scanning the area for any sign of those silver-green stripes, and eventually spotted the silhouette of a lone figure on the other side of the hall. He instantly lost any inhibitions he had had before, a smile spreading ear to ear. He’d know that messy dandelion hair anywhere, that continuous slump, and eternal disgruntled expression on his features. Alfred was right to have given in to to his impulse, as he’d found his very important reason.
“ARTHUR!”
he called out, deciding it was best not to try and surprise a wizard who was known for his spontaneous (and quite unpleasant) retaliations upon being startled. Nonetheless, the look he received in return was that of cornered cat: eyes wide, back straight, hair standing on end. Alfred hoped he hadn’t scared him--a feat he thought was impossible to begin with.
He quickly closed the gap between them and stood before his Slytherin buddy, doing all he could to keep from bouncing on his toes. In his flight, his scarf had flung itself across his face, a nuisance the Gryffindor hurried to correct.
“Hey there, Arthur! What a strange coincidence to meet you here in the hallway.” “Wait a second, don’t you usually have class right about now?”
Alfred watched the boy’s face turn from one of shock to his typical emotionless demeanor, deep green eyes shifting to the side while he buried his head in his own scarf.
“I decided not to go to class today. I’m already ahead anyway.”
Arthur answered, Alfred hardly able to make out the low retort.
Alfred had known the young wizard to be one of few words, and even fewer honest answers. He’d decided not to delve into this fact long ago, merely nodding in return.
“Well I guess that it’s not strange for a Slytherin to skip when they feel like it. You guys really need to work on your ethics.”
“I don’t think it’s any business of yours…” Arthur’s voice had become nearly inaudible as he dug himself deeper into the cloth than Alfred thought possible, “I should get going.”
Alfred panicked, watching as this wonderful opportunity fate had given him began to slip away. Why had they met so spontaneously in this random hallway? What had Arthur actually been doing hanging around seemingly staring at nothing only to shy away embarrassed when Alfred tried to bring it up? Alfred wracked his brain. What should he do in this situation? What would a hero do? Suddenly it clicked, and after clearing his throat, he attempted to execute his impromptu plan.
“Going where? I thought, ya know,” Alfred straightened his glasses, making a valiant effort to mask how nervous he was, “Since we’re both here and all, maybe we could walk to the mess hall together. T-That is! If you wanted to, I mean, I totally understand if you have other stuff to do, but you were just kinda standing here in the hall and all so I just figured--”
Alfred, who before had been gazing off to the side, froze as he returned to stare directly into the stern, icy glance of the Slytherin before him. Without any further discussion, he stood helpless as Arthur turned on his heels, trudging off in the opposite direction.
The boy frowned, obviously hurt by Arthur’s actions, though this kind of response was not unknown to him. One time, just one time, he hoped the other would give him a chance.
“Uh-Oh! Okay, goodbye then! I’ll talk with you later, Arthur.”
he called after, tracing the Slytherin’s steps. Soon Arthur was out of sight, leaving no evidence that he’d even existed at all. Crossing his arms, Alfred sighed and looked out of the nearby windows, so deep in thought that he nearly forgot the whole reason he’d come down here in the first place.
“DRAT!”
He was going to have to think of a really good excuse this time.
((TA-DA. As per request-here are both versions ;3; Hope they're okay!))
And I thought I couldn't love your writing even more--
Looks like I was wrong. Very wrong-
I totes in love with this, Faux!! ;//7//;
This is so sweet and nice and skgjhsdkgjsdghsdgsdg all the details and ahhhhHHHSFKSHGSJGHSGKSGJSG DORKS---
Arthur is so in character ;;//v//;; even if I never said much about this headcanon, you made it so beautiful sdgjksgkjsdghskdgjsdg
AND ALFRED IS SO CUUUUUUUTEEEEEEEEE---
I'll draw it ;; someday, but I'll definitely draw it--
Thank you very much, Faux bby ;//7//;
When I selfishly asked por a pottertalia drabble, I didn't think you would really grant my wishes skjghskdgjsdgsgohgosh-
And you even wrote a second one for me @//7//@
