#brothershardy

[blackcurlsgreeneyes]

Like Fire & Powder // Closed RP

@brothershardy​

Harry woke up with a start, his chest heaving for air and sweat clinging to his skin from the intense, dark dream that he’d torn out of because of a hand shaking his shoulder. He had one hand up to his face, fingers pressing on his scar instinctively, even though it never helped ease it when it hurt like this. This was deeper, magical pain--cursed pain--and medicine and ice packs and temple massages did nothing.

Fumbling for his glasses, he found the source of the shaking hand. “Hermione?”

His friend was staring at him, her brown eyes huge and worried, thick curls pulled back in a thick ponytail compared to their usual free flow. “Yes--sorry--Mrs. Weasley sent me to make sure you three were up, but you were twitching and muttering, was it a nightmare?”

Looking around, Harry nodded as he took in the faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the dawn outside the window, illuminating his roommates--Ron, in his own bed by the window, and Joe, in a second camp cot that had been brought up for his and Harry’s stay. Sirius was in Bill and Charlie’s abandoned room down the hall.

Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about---it had seemed so real. Two people he knew, and one he didn’t.... The dim picture of a darkened room came to him. There had been a snake on a hearth rug...Wormtail...and a cold, high voice. The voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry shuddered. “Yeah. Just a bad dream, don’t worry. Are we running late?”

“No more than Ron ever is,” she grinned, going over to shake the redhead next. “She sent me up sooner than necessary. Oh, hush,” she laughed, when Ron woke, and gasped as if scandalized to find a girl above him. “Joe, you too! Mrs. Weasley said breakfast is nearly ready, and then Mr. Weasley’s taking us to meet another family at the Portkey.”

She left them to change, and Harry yawned as he hunted down his jeans, and a comfortable sweater and his jacket. “Do we know who we’re meeting?” he asked curiously. “I’ve never taken a Portkey before.”

“I think Dad said Amos at one point, so I reckon that’s the Diggorys,” Ron replied, taking his sweet time to actually leave his warm bed. “You know the son, he’s Hufflepuff’s Seeker. Joe, can you throw me that jumper on the chair?”

[the-darker-path]

Sunshine and Shadows // Closed RP

@brothershardy​

The first part of the Riddle War ended in one fell swoop, when Lord Voldemort went to a quaint little country wizarding village intending to eliminate a perceived threat....who was a child. Not just a child, a toddler, no older than Draco had been, and his father’s master really did go to murder that boy in his crib. It did not go well for him. Or for the Potters, but his downfall was a silver lining.

Draco grew up knowing that it couldn’t be permanent. His father was certain of Riddle’s one-day return, and careful in hiding or “surrendering” the Dark artefacts that he was going to need when that day came. Narcissa turned a blind eye, wanting it to all just go away. Draco didn’t know which side to be on, and settled for staying quiet on the subject of Tom “Voldemort” Riddle until he was of age to attend Hogwarts himself.

Somehow, he hadn’t really considered that the Boy Who Lived was his age, and therefore would be in his year at school. Draco did not register that until he was standing on a fitting stool in Madam Malkin’s robe shop, and looked up to see the next student who came along, tracking over unruly strawberry blond hair, big green eyes behind round glasses....and a rather incredible, one-of-a-kind scar pattern peeking out from beneath his messy fringe.

Joseph Potter was coming to Hogwarts.

Draco had rather bunged up that first meeting, unintentionally letting Lucius’ attitude shine through as he struggled to figure out what kind of person the Boy Who Lived was. He really hadn’t meant to sound so elitist, or to insult either the giant gamekeeper, or the rather tired-looking wizard who were accompanying Joe to get his school supplies.

Bugger it all, he put his foot in his mouth. Draco regretted that the rest of the day as Narcissa took him to finish shopping, and then they went to meet the Parkinsons, Notts, and Blaise and his mother for dinner in the city.

September first found King’s Cross busy with poorly-disguised wizarding families shuffling their kids to Platform 9 3/4, unless they had Ministry connections to Floo directly to the platform. Draco was among those, Narcissa fussing over his travel cloak and Lucius looking about pompously, and he was absently feeding Orion a final mouse to keep him content for the journey when he spotted the same blond mop of hair.

Joe was struggling to get his trunk onto the train. Draco watched, torn--but then a taller boy appeared, noticing Joe’s dilemma and catching his eye. "Want a hand?"

"Yes, please," Draco heard Joe pant.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!" A clone of him walked over, and with the twins' help, Joe's trunk got onto the train. Draco watched the twins talk briefly to Joe--but then their mother, it could only be so with that matching red hair, called them back to her.

“Best board now, my love,” Narcissa murmured, and Draco nodded, hurrying to give his trunk to a conductor and join Pansy in heading onto the Hogwarts Express. They joined Theo and Blaise, through him Draco met a pair of bulky lads called Crabbe and Goyle--he knew their surnames, knew they’d been in with his father, and Voldemort--and eventually the train slid out of the station.

“Did you hear?” Theo asked with amusement. “The Potter is on board.”

“Yes, I saw him,” Draco confirmed. “That’s going to be interest to play out.” In the passageway, he heard voices, someone asking if a toad had been spotted, and Draco watched a miserable-looking boy trudge past with a curly-haired girl who had an aura of bossiness to her. “Right, who’s up for Exploding Snap?”

[voicesofthemuses]

Your Skin in My Teeth // Closed RP

@brothershardy​

As spring began settling in every year, there was always a charged energy in the air. It was a very positive time for mated pairs, because come May it seemed as if every form of life on earth was looking to breed. For unmated Alphas and most betas, too, it wasn’t a rough time--they were either looking to get lucky that season, or they were indifferent.

But for omegas without a mate, it was hunting season, and if they were not looking to be claimed that year, then stepping outside the front door was a health hazard. Because if they were out and about, then they “knew what they were doing,” and nine times out of ten no judge would side with them should they be hunted and pounced upon by a passing Alpha and they protested the claim.

For Hannibal, hunting season made April a rather quiet month. He was unattached by preference, with no inclination to take a mate, and most of his therapy clients had to postpone their sessions that month due to either being with their mates, seeking mates, or remaining at home for their own safety. He did telehealth sessions for those omegas who wanted them...but for the most part, April was a mini-holiday.

This year, though, he was troubled. Because he’d been working for most of the past year in a new capacity as a partial consultant to the FBI, specifically in their BSU, helping the senior agent Jack Crawford with crime scenes related to a serial killer that he was tracking. Surprisingly it was not Hannibal’s own hobby, either--it was another, whose MO and signature was resulting in him being labeled the Polaroid Killer. Hannibal would simply be enjoying the exercise and the chance to interact with the FBI--fascinating--except for one major factor.

Whenever he was with the FBI, at those crime scenes or in the halls of Quantico or even just seeing Jack at his office or own home...Hannibal was constantly catching a scent. It was by far the most tantalizing omega aroma he’d ever detected--like smoke and pine and blood, and it was completely intoxicating. But it also made no sense whatsoever, because of the places he was catching hints of it. The FBI did employ omegas, but Hannibal never found the source of the scent...and he could not comprehend why he would find it both at the FBI’s own headquarters, and at crimes scenes of one of the most vicious killers he’d ever seen besides himself. It was a mystery.

Clearing his head one session-free evening, Hannibal parked at the edge of the city and began wondering. He preferred walking in the wild trees as opposed to the carefully-cultivated parks--though those were beautiful, true. But this was more...primal, he felt. No paths, no rules, unlikely to be any people. Hannibal roamed through the trees, drinking in the crisp evening air with its fading traces of winter chill, and he felt peace.

And then he scented it again.

Hannibal slowed, and then stopped. He took a pace back. He inhaled deeply again, finding it still there, and slowly he turned his head. Moving far more like a predator trying to find the source of its prey’s scent than a man, Hannibal tracked through the growing shadows of the woods, looking for any sign of movement.

[inventorsdaughter-a]

@brothershardy​ asked: “let me get this straight … you want me to pretend to be your partner? “ --from Frank ;)

“it’s to get my family off my back about being single, it’s not like it’s gonna be permanent or anything.”

[minxchester]

In the Moonlit Night // Closed RP

@brothershardy​

Selecting, tracking, stalking down, and taking a victim was hardly novel for the Winchester brothers, at this point. But it had never been this brand of exciting--it had never been someone so interesting. They’d had kills, they’d had toys, and they had occasionally kept pets. But they’d never picked something out quite as rare, as special, as perfect....as Frank Hardy.

He was theirs, plain and simple. By blood, by lineage, by right. The hunt went flawlessly, and they didn’t have trouble catching him leaving the library late one night. The quickest dart past with a syringe, Frank unaware he’d even been struck, and then Sam was catching him before he could stagger and easing him into his own car, driving it back to where they’d planned the “kidnapping” scene.

The car was wrecked, and evidence suggested a struggle Frank being taken. Once that was set up, he was spirited away into the Impala, and they took him off to the cabin they’d selected for the training portion. No one from Frank’s previous life would ever see him again, or know what had befallen him.

In the room they’d prepared downstairs--it wasn’t a basement, not really, it had all the creature comforts possible--Dean laid Frank out on the bed and applied the padded cuff to one wrist. Just a precaution, for now. Then he placed the water bottle and crackers for if Frank was hungry or thirsty when the sedative wore off, and climbed the stairs, locking the door and leaving the cameras running.

[grangerisadanger]

Falling Through the Hourglass // Closed RP

@brothershardy​

It could never be said that Hermione wasn’t always planning. While everyone else was basking in relief that the madness surrounding the Chamber of Secrets was finally ended--and celebrating Dumbledore commemorating it by cancelling the end-of-year exams--she was reviewing the lists of classes available for third years. And before she joined Ron and Harry in heading off for the Hogwarts Express, she informed Professor McGonagall of her idea.

They wrote over the summer, and by the beginning of July it was finalized. McGonagall went through all the proper channels with the Ministry, and Hermione danced around her room when she received her Head of House’s letter verifying that Hermione had been approved. There was one other student who would be joining her in this endeavor, McGonagall advised, but they weren’t a Gryffindor.

Of course, getting back to school was never simple, any more than any other part of being Harry Potter’s best friend was. They had issues in Diagon Alley when she purchased her cat--and she was not sorry, Ron couldn’t sour her love for the scruffy orange tomcat--and then a nightmare on the train, when the Dementors came prowling.

All in all, Hermione was sagging with relief when they finally bloody reached the castle. She’d nearly forgotten--and then Professor McGonagall stopped them en route to the Great Hall, summoning her and Harry to her office. Hermione began vibrating with excitement.

Harry received his chocolate from Madam Pomfrey and was sent on his way. And then the door opened again to admit another student, and Hermione paused in pleased surprise. “Oh! Frank, you’re also taking, ah, more classes than is likely sensible?”

“Indeed, you and Mr. Hardy are both verified by the Ministry to utilize Time Tuners--under my strict direction and supervision--to manage your course loads this year,” McGonagall affirmed, smiling at the pair of them. “Mr. Hardy, if you have issues you can see Professor Snape, of course, but the devices are registered from the Ministry under my name, so I am overseeing you two in my role as Deputy Headmistress, rather than just a professor. Do you either of you have any questions or concerns yet?”

“I’m ready,” Hermione said confidently, and she reverently accepted the small box she was handed. “I’ve been so excited for this, all summer.”

[lovestoofew]

@brothershardy tapped that ❤️

Lucille had a young lord on her arm as she began her walk about the park, but when he attempt to steer her towards a 'quiet spot where they could speak candidly,' she excused herself and turned away, reputations were a hard thing to out run. And seemed her prior escorts's affections were much the same as the rake attemed to get her attention.

Seeing a young man she was wholly unfamiliar with, Lucille saw an opportunity and as they passed one another she 'tripped' into him. "My apologies, Sir. It seems my skirts betray me," she said, pushing forward a blush and eyes fluttering up to his.

[nowat-shesdaylight]

’ i gotta cut smoking or i’ll never make track next year. ’ --Frank

Rapunzel could agree for her own reasons, having her own opinions on smoking.  But she wasn’t one to push that on others, not without feeling bad about it, anyway.  So instead of voicing said smoking is bad for you anyway opinion, she just smiled and offered a nod in support.  “Yeah, I can imagine that’d take a toll on your running at some point,” she finally commented after a moment’s thought.  “Has the coach said anything to you about it or is that your own doing?  ‘Cause either way, I don’t know.  It could help make your times faster, too.”  

the outsiders / @brothershardy ( accepting )