#thread: harry

[youllalwaysbemyporcelain]

@ofxscavengcrs​

Hagrid was enjoying nature when he heard a familiar voice. He jumped up from wear he sat quicker than he ever had and raced to the voice. He was delighted to see it was who he thought it was. “Harry! Blimey! How are ya?” 

[elliealdenkamp]

her chin rested in her hand. more accurately, the entirety of her chin and mouth was cupped by one palm, skin met with the warm breath of a deep sigh. a happy, deeply satisfied sigh; the kind that only resulted from being moved. truly moved, in a way that nearly felt physical around her chest. as if she’d been lurched forward from her seat and into a dimension in which harry’s words and her notable heartbeat were all that existed. it was touching, the letter, and a gesture the likes of which had frankly never come her way. he’d written her her letter. he’d remembered. the postscript, in all of its lightheartedness and hindsight, was evidence of that. sat at her desk, she felt as though she could sink into the floor, a mere puddle of genuine gratefulness. so much had happened within the past several months that, upon reflecting on it all, it invoked a sense of surrealness. how’d they get here? how’d she ever come to deserve it? deserve him? ellie wasn’t a self-deprecating person—and she never really had been—but the question still stood of how she’d landed herself in this position. so in love, so at home with someone else. someone who unquestionably loved her just the same.

and that was the real difference, wasn’t it? all she’d ever wanted, looking back, was for someone to accept her abundance of unadulterated love. not even to return it, really—just be willing to receive it. in hindsight, it was a sad realization, but that minor sadness was simultaneously met with immense gratitude and endearment for all that’d changed since. herself included. it’d be foolish to think that much of it wasn’t due to the very man who wrote the letter that laid atop her desk. harry, her friend. harry, perhaps her best. harry, her first love. harry, without a doubt, the love of her life. ellie’s eyes poured over the letter, over and over, though her vision was blurred by some spare joyful tears that’d welled up in her eyelids. finally bringing a hand up to wipe them, she stood from her seated position and crossed the room. a jolt of energy—of need—shot through her limbs like adrenaline. she needed to see him, to say something, even if the words couldn’t come to her just yet. if all she managed to do was throw her arms around him and bury herself in his chest, well, that’s what she wanted. whatever would get across a fraction of how touched she was.

but it wouldn’t be just that. as she crossed the hall, nearing his door, what she wanted to say came to her. hit her. so when she knocked and harry opened up, it all began to tumble from her lips. “hi,” she started, noticeably a bit out of breath. the sound of it meeting the simple word brought her to laugh some, the smallest bit nervous. “remember the first time we said i love you and i told you i couldn’t tell you since when?” ellie’s eyes widened a bit, her expression briefly an extension of the question. “i really couldn’t say then, but i think i can now.” it was evening and not many people were mulling around the hastings hallways. the warmth present inside the house was welcome against the cold of the girl’s cheeks and bare hands. it felt intimate, being here in his doorway, and her voice lowered to match the feeling. she took a breath and did her best to slow, but despite her slightly calmer demeanor the words continued to spill from her mouth.

“i knew i loved you that one day when we were walking on campus and you sat against one of the trees and i was resting my head in your lap. and for a moment i though you were going to say it and when you didn’t i knew—” for a moment her eyes averted, trying to dictate where the sentence was going. “i knew. i just knew. if you’d said it then, i... don’t think i would’ve hesitated to say it back.” just then her head shook. “but i loved you before that. a while before that, actually. i loved you at the alice party when you told me you were completely available—” she gave him a look, a small nod, that said, yes, this is the start of a list. yeah, i’m doing this. could it be embarrassing? sure, but i’m going for it anyway. “i loved you when you let me put eyeliner on you, because you knew it’d make me happy. i loved you when we kissed in front of the movie theater. and—and what happened after that.” a meek laugh interrupted the words. had he been busy? should she have texted him that she was coming by? details like that hadn’t crossed her mind until now, when it was just a bit too late to consider. “ i loved you when we went back to your room after being at the lake and you let me borrow your clothes and i read anna karinina. i must’ve replayed that whole thing in my head one hundred times. i’m not kidding.”

part of her felt, and had long felt, that making him aware of her persistent feelings—present before, during, and after he’d been in another relationship—was wrong. selfish, even though she’d never acted on them when it would’ve been inappropriate. at the same time, however, his letter had, in a way, prompted her to be honest and forward with everything. with just how much she cared for him and for how long. “ i loved you on the cruise when—when i knew something was wrong and felt helpless, like all i wanted to do was help you and couldn’t. i loved you our second time out on the lake when i told you i’d be your friend, because i just—i so badly wanted you in my life.”

unprompted, ellie reached for his hands, half convinced that the giddy energy that raced through her veins would transfer over to him. “i loved you the night of the shakespeare masquerade when you walked out. i saw you walk out, and you wouldn’t have ever known, but i went after you and—” she shrugged, feeling the flush creep into her cheeks, “and i was too late. it sort of, uh, crushed me, just a little, and i didn’t know why.” another laugh, this time like a sigh, escaped her as she seemed to finally settle into place. a few seconds passed with her only looking back at harry’s eyes and you’d think she was stunned merely by their existence. “—but all of that aside, i don’t think i’ve ever loved you as much as i do right now. and i can’t be nearly as eloquent or lovely about it as you are, but i just wanted you to know.” giving his hands a squeeze, ellie offered the latest in what seemed to be a consistent offering of slightly embarrassed smiles before mouthing, thank you. it was all she could do in the moment to truly offer herself and her vulnerability up in what she hoped could even near equal measure. @harrisonhadlee​

[saffiealbright]

“harrison peter parker hooters hadlee.” saffie leaned against the doorframe into one of the hastings house studies, the light from inside it casting her in a warm glow. it caused her hair to nearly look like it’d been set aflame, the ends of each loose curl a lick of fire. the minor visual detail contrasted her semi-slumped stance, one shoulder pressed against the frame while the rest of her body followed suit at a steep slant. a human backslash with red hair and arms crossed over her chest. “if i didn’t know just how much you value our friendship, i’d think you’ve been avoiding me.” her brows rose as she came to stand up straight, stepping into the room. she stopped just short of a chair, bringing both hands to rest atop each corner like a businessman who’s just about had it with a slew of incompetent staff and the day’s overbearing workload. almost like she should’ve been donning suspenders, a cigar lazily balancing between her teeth. no matter that she hadn’t particularly sought him out these past few weeks—oh, no. this was an interrogation and the subject was harry. he was under the burning lamplight. if only because it was more amusing that saf having instead approached him and said something along the lines of, hey! i miss you, let’s hang out!

cracking a smile, she walked her way around to the front of the chair and took a seat. “you’re not avoiding me, are you vineyard vines?” @harrisonhadlee​

[scarreddreams]

@mindthevoices liked for a starter!

Harry looked up over the edge of his book, frowning at the intruder on his personal space. “Can I help you?” he asked, tone clipped. He barely waited for an answer before turning back to the book in his hands. If he wanted any hope of passing Transfiguration, he needed to figure out how to handle the incantations.

[youllalwaysbemyporcelain]

@ofxscavengcrs​ continued from here

“Oh no. I’m not wanting to take over the wizarding world. I’m taking over the whole world, starting with this city. You won’t be able to stop me. Not with what I have planned.” 

[elliealdenkamp]

@harrisonhadlee

preaker, vermont to portsmouth, new hampshire. a three-and-a-half hour drive south-east that ellie had become wholly familiar with, as one is with an old friend, over the past three years away at university. by now she could recall the scenery with great fondness and the joyful anticipation of seeing loved ones for the first time in a while with even more so. this thanksgiving found itself at once to be no different and entirely so, with her sitting on the passenger side and wistfully gazing out of the front and side windows. that’s because, while all of the usual landmarks and scenery hadn’t changed, while all of the same feelings still swelled in her chest in a way she’d grown to expect, this time she wasn’t alone. she had harry—and, as she’d come to find with many unexpected aspects and facets of her life, the long drive had been tremendously improved upon by his presence.

an already long drive made a bit longer, due to some... priorities, that’d made themselves known about two-thirds of the way there. as they neared, harry’s nerves had become apparent—driving twenty over the speed limit, muscles a bit more tense than usual—a reaction to meeting her family that, while entirely endearing, was one she’d badly wanted to quelle. her first thought was to place a reassuring hand on his leg, shifting in her seat so that she could just lean over the center console some. though, as he admittedly spoke of his nerves and excitement at the prospect of having a thanksgiving like this, ellie couldn’t ignore the suddenly apparent fact that it, to her, was so damn attractive. and in that irrefutable feeling, there was a resolution that’d without a doubt work for them both. so what’d started as a soothing hand quite seamlessly lead to her leaning over some more, to the point where her chin could just about rest atop his nearest shoulder. there she’d began to speak again, although the words that left her lips were closer to murmurs. relaxed and praising and, finally, begging. she needed him to pull over—she needed him now. he’d smirked and she knew it was over. he’d pulled over and she knew she’d be getting exactly what she’d asked for.

somewhere around twenty minutes later and they were off once more, harry pulling back onto the freeway with the windows cracked, hair slightly unkempt, and a particular grin that brought her to laughter. is this the part where i say something about old habits? she’d teased, wearing her own jaunty smile. though the laughter soon turned to lighthearted urgency, ellie directing that they’d now be making two more quick stops before finally reaching their destination. the first being just about anywhere that had a restroom they could freshen up in. the second being one particular bakery not thirty minutes from the house, where she’d pick up one dessert or another to blame any potential tardiness on. quite the class act she was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t thought of before needing it as a potential excuse.

which lead them to the present, just having parked in the driveway of her aunt and uncle’s home. her home. its white colonial exterior, the front porch steps that lead up to a grand dark wood front door. the memories and the people and the rowdy dogs that were just past it. unable to contain an anticipatory smile, ellie looked over at harry and once again reached out to take his hand. only, this time, she then brought it to her lips so that she could press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “you ready?” she asked, free hand’s fingertips drumming excitedly against the pie container that sat in her lap.

[elliealdenkamp]

while most yates society members were still gallivanting around the arboretum, adorned in silk and suits and jewels, ellie had hardly been able to excuse herself before making a straight shot to hastings. she’d called, she’d texted, she’d called again. she’d stepped away from the party, she’d triple checked the live flight schedule online. something was wrong—and while she had no concrete basis to truly support her worry, aside from all of the unanswered calls and texts, it still gnawed at her like a fox caught in a trap. if something had happened—if harry’s phone were about to die, if his flight were delayed or canceled—he would’ve told her earlier in the evening, if not to ease her worry than to merely carry on their conversation while they were apart. and yet there was nothing. there’d been nothing for quite some time, to the point where her phone resembled an unignorable cinderblock weighing down her bag and shoulder. it didn’t add up. so she’d left. it’d crossed her mind on the walk over, mesh-covered arms cold due to the coat she’d accidentally left behind, that she was overreacting. that she was just allowing her missing him to take shape in unreasonable concern. then again, there was no harm in checking.

in little time she’d arrived at his bedroom door, hastings all but empty, save for a small group of members that’d already reconvened in the living room. she knocked, she waited, she knocked again. nothing. doubt began to claw its way in, only not at harry and his wellbeing, but at herself. how ridiculous she’d sound when she called him again and managed to get through, coming to find out that his cell service at the airport was shit or that perhaps hers out in the arboretum was to blame. the thought was a comfort—near convincing relief—as ellie reached into the little bag that was slung over her shoulder and pulled out her phone. only, when she dialed, she began to faintly hear it ring. yes, on her end as expected, but also from the other side of the door. “harry?” she called out, confused, knocking with a bit more force. perhaps, whatever had happened, he’d come back and fallen asleep. maybe the flight had been canceled. “babe, it’s me, are you in there?” one ear met the door while the other remained pressed to her phone, awaiting some sort of response from either.

once again, nothing.

fearing the worst, as she so often did when she couldn’t seem to get ahold of a loved one, ellie and the skirt of her glittering green gown trailed back down the stairs in search of the house’s RA. sure, society RA’s didn’t exactly resemble those you’d see in other student living, but ninety-nine percent of the time they had access room keys. god forbid someone lock themselves out of their room while drunk or misplace theirs and force an entire house to go through lock changes. it wasn’t like she had a key to harry’s room, she’d never needed one. by some stroke of luck, however, one of the students she’d passed by on her way in was exactly who she was looking for. then again, perhaps they weren’t and just knew where the keys were kept. in any case, they seemed far more interested in dealing with elizabeth as quickly as possible and getting back to their conversation than questioning why she was trying to get in to begin with. vocalizing her thanks once, twice, three times, she followed the hastings girl—short, blonde, a face full of freckles—back to harry’s room where the door was opened with ease.

there she’d waited inside, now somewhat disheveled hair falling around her face in a similar fashion that her partly-singed dress rested over his bed. she waited, and waited, and waited, only distracting herself long enough to not look at the time when she was debating herself on whether or not she should go check somewhere else. only as exhaustion from the day’s events began to tug at her eyelids did the door open again. she half expected it to be the blonde, popping in to check on the strange situation, but was quickly corrected. “hey—” ellie startled, hands at both sides pushing her up into a straighter posture. “he lives.” shreds of embarrassment began to crop up in her for how strange she must’ve appeared, not having changed out of her costume and into one of his many t-shirts as she so often did, but all sense of self was forgotten when his face came into view. he was sad, but it was more than that. something she wasn’t quite familiar with on him and couldn’t at all place. “hey,” she tried again, softer, moving towards the end of the bed. “what happened? where’ve you been?” worry painted her face, though she tried to mask it with something more relaxed. @harrisonhadlee​

[elliealdenkamp]

it seemed that ellie had been one of the last people to leave caswell manor that night. once everyone had started filtering out, stumbling against one another and out onto the lawn, she’d made the choice to take a lap around the large home in search of harry. she hadn’t seen him since she’d run into darby—actually, she hadn’t really seen him since they’d left the room they’d slipped into earlier in the evening. upon leaving it she’d taken a straight shot to the nearest bathroom to clean up... and that’d been it. glassy eyes, faded red lipstick, disheveled hair. they’d all met her in the mirror, slightly trembling hands grasping the sink. most of her time spent in the manor bathroom was spent just like that, and the one thing that kept repeating like a skipping record through her thoughts was,  no. no, to ‘okay’, it’s not okay. nothing is okay— nothing about what’s going on is even remotely okay. nothing is okay. nothing’s okay. not remotely okay. not okay. the words, almost lyrical in their rhythm and repetition, reemerged when she’d later searched the mansion, dipping in and out of rooms and ascending and descending staircases. once, twice. after some time she’d come to sit at the bottom of the stairs, red dress cascading onto the floor and chin in her hands. ellie was tired. her emotional exhaustion had set in hours before, only to be briefly refueled by one crucial mission to reenact the boston tea party. by then, it seemed, her physical exhaustion had also gone into effect. so she’d left alone.

the walk felt like reliving a memory. one where she’d also chased after harry. one where she’d also been too late and went home alone. but this one, she was determined, would end differently—just not tonight. she figured that, perhaps what they needed right then was a bit of a breather. some time to sit with their thoughts and everything that’d been said. so she waited, only making the walk to hastings—to his room—late morning the following day. ellie hadn’t slept well and the evidence was clear on her face; tired eyes, faint circles. the neat curls she’d worn her hair in the night before had fallen, tumbling over her shoulders in loose and slightly unkempt waves. pinstriped pajama shorts and a loose t-shirt suggested she’d come straight from bed, not bothering to change despite the brisk pre-noon chill. and when she’d finally arrived at his door she knocked without hesitation. every minute detail said that this couldn’t wait, down to how she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet while waiting for the door to open. “harry?” ellie called out, unplanned. at least now he’d know it was her and could react accordingly. however that was.  @harrisonhadlee​