Jace had left being a Shadowhunter without warning. He painstakingly de-runed himself, searing off each of his runes, starting with his parabatai rune. He hadn’t told anyone around him, not even Alec. Not that anyone seemed to care about his mental state, not even Alec. So he left, he packed some clothes, got some fake documents for himself and Madzie (who he was taking), a very full bank account, and two train tickets to California, nowhere near L.A. and somewhere safe. He looked down at Madzie, who was asleep against his side as the train crossed the border into California.
Madzie hadn’t objected in the least to leaving New York and Jace was grateful. He hadn’t broached the subject of his suicide attempt to her, but he had a feeling she already knew. So he kept his mouth shut and vowed to tell her when she was older.
~
He picked Beacon Hills, small but not too small, a good school for Madzie where he would be an art teacher. (Thank you fake documents.) He found a small house with an attic and no basement (basements were creepy) that he swiftly moved into. It was as he finished putting his old Shadowhunting gear in the attic that he heard the doorbell ring.
~
Madzie answered the door and squinted up at the person on her doorstep.
“Mommy’s busy,” she told him.
“Madzie!” Jace darted down the stairs and Madzie beamed at him. “Baby, what have I said about answering the door?” He scolded softly. “Go on.” Madzie nodded and skipped off. “I’m-” he briefly paused to blink at the younger male, a tiny blush appearing. “I’m Jace, that was my daughter,” he finally said. “You are?” He held his hand out.
I like to think Georgi has a shiny roselia. The purple and black roses seem like they'd fit his aesthetic.
but it would have to be male so it could evolve into uhhhh (googles) -- no wait either sex can evolve into Roserade. Never mind. i think I was thinking of Ralts again. Anyway YES imagine THE DRAMAAAAAA.
Okay so I LOVE what you have so far of the Hogwarts Please! au!!!!
I present… Part 2
Draco wakes up the next morning to a phone call from a number he doesn’t know. His roommate makes angry noises until he answers it, silencing Queen Bee.
“Rise and shine baby ferret it’s time for a tour of your new home!” Came a vaguely familiar voice.
“Who is this?” Draco asked the caller and the clock on his night stand, it read 7:30 am.
“Shitty. Come one man get up and grab a coffee. We need to functioning before we can pregame. The lactose team already has their eggs up and ready to party. We have a reputation to uphold.”
Draco drags himself out of bed and through his rather extensive skin care routine ( He has delicate skin it’s important!) with only eight long suffering sighs from his roommate. He makes it to the house or HAUS as Shitty keeps calling it. Honestly, Draco is worried that there might be something wrong with the red head. The others are there as well, including the other freshman who also look like they are not fully awake yet. Draco barely understands what is being asked of him outside of the fact that this very dirty house seems to belong to the hockey team and a few of them live there. Also he will have to run through it while naked, drunk, and blind folded but that’s a problem for future Draco.
The shinning glory of the morning is access to the Kitchen. A kitchen with an over he will night have to fight over with half of the kids on his floor. It really is a good thing that Draco is a wizard because the refrigerator and pantry do not have what would be traditionally called ‘baking staples’.
“Did you just magic a pie into existence?” Asks Tank Engine.
“Um, sometimes when I find a kitchen pies just happen.” Draco admits. It’s his left over baby magic at work but they don’t need to know he still has that.
Captain Harry Potter is the only member of the team not impressed with the pie.
“If we are going to be ready for training next week the team can’t suddenly be adding this many baked goods to our meal plans.”
No thank you. No this is delicious. He doesn’t even try Draco’s Siracha pie. If Draco wasn’t genetically opposed to upfront confrontation he might have sad something rude. Instead he had just felt his eye twitch.
“Does Harry want to murder me? Should I be expecting a challenge to a wizard’s duel or something?” Draco asks after the second week of practice when he is really starting to get the impression that the captain doesn’t want him.
“Nah man, Harry just gets extra bitch before the season starts. He will calm back down once we have our first game.” Seamus ‘Horsey’ Finnegan tells Draco in the locker room after a rather brutal practice.
“When you dad is Skinny Jimmy there is a lot of pressure to perform.” Shitty R. Weasley tells Draco while standing completely naked in the center of the room.
“Who’s Skinny Jimmy?” Draco asks undoing his laces. The locker room goes completely silent. The locker room has never been completely silent as far as Draco knows. “What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
“Momma have you ever heard of Skinny Jimmy Potter?” Draco really feels like if his mother doesn’t know than he might be in the clear.
“Oh yes. I used to have his poster in my room in college. A wizarding hockey poster mind you. He used to flex and wink all the time. All the girls had one.”
Draco laid down on his bed face first. Clearly he really is out of the loop in all things hockey and wizarding hockey.
James “Skinny Jimmy” Potter is the greatest hockey player to ever been born a wizard. He has won the stately cup four times with two different teams. He also happened to be devastatingly good looking. Draco can see why his mother used to have his poster, because the only different between father and son seems to be eye color. And the fact that Harry is in college when his father had been drafted straight out of the Q. Draco also did not understand why James Potter had ever been called Skinny Jimmy because that man did not look like he had ever been particularly skinny. But hockey nick names were something he had come to accept made no sense.
“Why do you ask love?” His mother’s voice cut in from Draco’s spiral of thoughts.
“His son is my captain.” Draco admits mournfully.
“OOOooooOOOOO, Lucious!”
“Momma no.”
“Braxie is going to school with the son of Skinny Jimmy! We have to get tickets. I want an autograph! Lucious don’t walk away from me when I am talking to you.” Draco hangs up rather than listen to the chaos that is about to ensue.
Harry isn’t trying to be a dick.
“Yeah you are man.” Shitty breaks into his thoughts. Harry glares. Shits is currently naked on Harry’s bed, something that Harry has just come to accept at this point in their friendship. “Draco is a good little ferret. Not his fault his name doesn’t work with nick names well. We will find something eventually. Boy has a middle name he is hiding from us.”
“I believe in your and Seamus’s magic powers of nick names.” If it was left to Harry he would just call everyone by their first or last names but hockey does not allow for such normal names.
“You need to work with him Harry.” Shitty begins again.
“Yeah I know.”
The problem is Draco Malfoy, southern baking wizard, fastest guy on the ice besides Harry. The problem is he is blond. The problem is he smiles easy and Harry has never felt anything but magic come easy in his life. But you can’t run off and just be a wizard when your father is the greatest gift to hockey in the last hundred years.
The problem is his therapist thinks he needs to figure out how to connect with Draco. For reasons that Harry isn’t ready to speak aloud. Reasons that involve his smile and how his hair looks in the sunlight.
The problem is uncle Sirius on the phone telling Harry to knock some head and then putting uncle Remus on the phone to tell Harry to breathe.
The problem is that Harry wants something and doesn’t have the words or the actions to express himself.
Th dragon open’s its mouth and starts making what sounds like a knocking noise. The whisk, that Draco currently was, did a dance to oppose the knocking dragon. The dragon opened it’s bought and the knocking noise increased in volume. After a few more minutes of this Draco realizes that the knocking sound her is hearing is not in fact coming from his dream and is real.
He falls off the the bed trying to get to the door, still tangled in his sheets. He opens the door to find none other than Harry fucking Potter pounding on his door. Draco blinks for a moment. Harry seems equally baffled. Draco then remembered that he had kicked off his pajamas in the night, and that he normally didn’t wear underpants under his pajamas.
“Yes?” Draco asked finally when it had become clear that hockey captain Harry Potter was just going to stand there and stare at Draco in nothing but his birthday suit.
“Checking practice.” Harry offered finally. “Get dressed.” And then turned around.
Draco seeing that this was not a matter to be discussed closed the door and turned to get dressed. It was then that Draco realized it was a little bit before four in the fucking a.m. He groaned into the darkness and hunted for some clothes.
The worst part wasn’t to four am wake up. The worst part was Harry Potter in a tight black shirt pushing into Draco over and over again.
“How long are we going to be doing this?” Draco asked after the first contact.
“However long it takes you to get over this weird mental block.” Harry skated around, “But there is a youth tournament at seven so we have to be off the ice by then.”
“Coco Puff.”
“Well that’s not so bad of a nick name dear.” His mother offered.
“I had to put my foot down when Shitty said we should just call me Puff Daddy.” Draco groaned. He did not need this in his life. The great and wonderful Harry Potter had not designed to give Draco any time off from their new checking practice. It was up to three times a week and it was seriously cutting into his beauty sleep. He had found a dry spot between his brows this morning and Draco was not happy to see that all of this was affecting the condition of his skin.
“Isn’t that what one calls their kink master?” Narcissa wondered with that airy tone she got when she was teasing him terribly.
“Mother!”
“What? I have the internet.” She smiled slyly at him.
“I will get in this oven so help me.” Draco pointed to the very rickety Haus oven which was now his only life line for baking ever since the floor had voted that he could no longer bake there. Honestly the floor was over reacting, he did not stress bake at 3 am regularly, and shouldn’t drunk college kids be much more receptive to baked goods.
