The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - will you be a quidditch pro or maybe a prefect? The year is now 2021, and now it's time for the next generation to make their mark. The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - and that is where the fun begins.
The plot will be determined by the characters of the site as of now - future plots will change as these forces weigh in on the Wizarding World, and we see where these characters take us. So join in and let your character make their mark!
Minimum word count is 200.
Just little drabbles and short pieces set in this universe, that don't really have the opportunity to make it to longer threads or fics - and are just quick and random headcanons.
Disclaimer: everything posted here has been approved as canon by the creators of the characters.
The first lesson of year with the Firsties is always fun - seeing all the new talent to nurture makes Ezra feel especially satisfied.
Of course, there are also those kids that are clearly…not as naturally gifted.
He hears the smashing of bottles and turns to find a small red-headed girl, a sea of worried faces and a mess of harmful ingredients mixing together on the floor.
He laughs as he escorts them all out of the room, and takes note:
He might have to keep a careful eye on that Lily Potter - that one clearly needs his help.
For the first time in his life, Jasper was genuinely thankful that the rest of the dorm was empty. Usually he was desperate to be around as many people as possible, but quite frankly in this moment he didn't anyone else to be witness to the awkward silence that was currently suffocating him and Christian.
He eyed his shirt a little way off, and his pants not too far away from that. He still had his socks on - which, shit, he really needed to start thinking to take his socks off when he fell into bed with someone because that is not a Cute Sex Look - and Jasper was trying to calculate how much more awkward it would be to try and nakedly run for the pile of clothes when Christian coughed next to him.
"Can we agree," his best friend started slowly. "To just - never speak of this again?"
Jasper heaved a sigh of relief.
"Oh Merlin - yes. Yes, please."
The two boys let out small, amused huffs of a laugh as the tension started to finally dissipate.
Jasper paused for a moment, and then -
"Be honest - did you only get off because you were thinking about Dom Weasley?"
Christian punched his arm so hard that he fell out of the bed, but Jasper was laughing as hit the floor with a dull thud.
There were a lot of people to fit into the tiny space of their London flat. Dominique had never been particular about her 'space' - a bed was a bed, and a room was a room. Having it look beautiful and stylised didn't mean nearly as much to her as the functionality of it. And for the most part, she liked how busy and full their flat was. The idea of living with Christian Fraser and his friends might have once filled her with dread - but then again that same girl would have been horrified that she'd willingly spend time with him, let alone share a bed with him. She'd changed since then, such was life - and the constant bustle of Jasper, Baggy, Christian and the rest coming and going was comforting to her now. Having her home be the central meeting spot for all their loved ones is what made it that - her home.
That wasn't to say their cramped living space didn't come without its awkward moments. Though she'd got used to the shenanigans of her boyfriend and his best mates, it didn't mean she understood them any better. The amount of times she'd walked into the living room and found herself in the middle of a group of them trying to battle another into submission during a game of "duck, duck, goose" - she'd lost count. And also just lost any care to understand. Those boys were a will unto themselves.
There was also the situation with Lily. Dom was happy for her, truly. Jasper was a good guy, and even if she was going to try and go all overbearing family member on her (which very much was not Dom's style), she'd have no complaints. It was good to see Lily with a guy who Dom knew well was one of the good ones, especially after all she'd been through. Dom had worried about her a lot as a teenager, and seeing her blossom had been as much a delight as it had been a relief. Jasper was the sort of good person that she deserved as a boyfriend.
It just...led to a few weirdly awkward situations that Dom never really knew how to deal with.
For example, a few weeks ago there had been an incident where the girls had emerged from their respective rooms at the same time on their way to the toilet - Dom from her own bedroom with Christian, and Lily from Jasper's - and both had looked more than a little debauched. Their eyes had locked across the living room, and they both froze like deers in the headlights as they each took in the state of the other, slowly putting together the implication of it all. They then mutually agreed to never address this moment ever again with no words ever uttered between them, as Dom walked back into the bedroom, and Lily to the bathroom like nothing had ever happened.
Christian, still laid in bed, had raised an eyebrow when she’d come back in after barely fifteen seconds out of the room and looking tense, but she just quickly said “I’m not talking about it,” and he’d shrugged and fallen back into the pillows.
It was technically Lily's fault they'd been limited to their bedroom now. Her and Jasper didn't really tend to get the time together a new-ish couple would like to have, and Jasper has to actually live all the time with another couple all over the flat with no complaint. Not that they were very 'coupley' mind you - Dom and Christian had never been That Couple. Dom might have mellowed out a little over the past few years, but she doubted that she'd ever be that mellow. No, Dom and Christian weren't the sort of people who'd take over a shared flat in that way - it was the principle of the thing, really. They had the luxury of space and time together, so it only seemed fair that Jasper and Lily could have one night in each other's company and have the communal areas to themselves.
So there they were, in their self-imposed exile of their bedroom, and Dom was uncharacteristically wishing that they had more space in their tiny, lovely flat.
"Stop that," she murmurs, her eyes not for a second leaving her work that's spread across every inch of her desk.
Christian, side eyes her the best he can from where he is across the room - doing a headstand. To his credit, he doesn’t even wobble at the distraction. “Stop what?” he asks, still upside down.
“That,” she says vaguely, still not looking up. She lifts up a hand to wave generally in his direction. “This.”
“I’m…not doing anything,” Christian says slowly, and Dom has to bite back a sigh. He doesn’t understand.
“You’re distracting me,” she says and finally looks up. You see, he might have been doing nothing - well, not nothing, Christian was always doing something, because that’s just the way he was - but he was as still as he ever could be over in the corner of the room.
The problem was he was doing nothing while being shirtless and she quite frankly found it very unnecessary.
“Stop looking at me then,” he says, and if he’d have been standing (and not like - balancing and stretching - Merlin) he’d have probably shrugged - he still doesn’t get it, and Dom doesn’t want to have to spell it out.
“You’re in my eye line,” she says.
“It’s the only bit of the room I can do yoga in,” he says, eyes closed, like he can bicker with her in her sleep - which to be fair, he probably can. “Turn around.”
“But you’re still there,” she presses.
“Yes, I also pay rent to live here.”
She drops her head into her hands. “Put a bloody shirt on, Fraser.”
This finally seems to quiet him, and he cracks one eye open again to look at her and - she doesn’t know how he has the gall to - looks sceptical, of all things.
“What,” he says, less of a question, more of an expression of confusion.
“Tu es une tête de noeud,” she says bluntly.
“Rude.”
He’s finally prompted into movement though, pushing himself up and standing to face her properly, and him standing closer to her has done nothing to help the problem. She sighs, again.
“I know you like it when I dance, but I didn’t think yoga was a thing?” he says, one hundred percent seriously.
Dom looks at him flatly. “You thought I wouldn’t be interested in looking at you when you’re half naked and stretching all over the place?”
And he’s there blinking at her with round eyes, and pretty eyelashes, and her heart does a funny thing in her chest, and - well - she knows when her body has defeated her mind, and at this point her mind has caught up and there’s no stopping where this train is heading.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” she says as she’s pushing her chair back to stand up.
“What,” Christian says again.
“This is your fault,” she says, taking off her shirt. “Know that if I don’t finish my prep before the next meeting, I’m blaming you entirely. Take off your trousers.”
Christian seemed very peaceful when he slept. Awake he was always moving, doing or saying something or other - like herself, in a lot of ways. Funny, the things she'd found they shared with each other when she'd paused long enough to notice. Still, it always surprised her seeing him look so motionless, with only the steady rise and fall of his chest and the occasional twitch of a finger.
He was passed out on the bed, bare chested and sheets strewn around him haphazardly. And well - they weren't so similar. Their stark differences made themselves clear enough most days - he'd drifted off to sleep almost immediately (like he always did), and she'd been up and about and flicking through the work she had with her in her bag, buzzing with a new energy under her skin that he'd awakened in her (like she always did).
As it was now she was curled up on a chair in the corner of his room, her diary fully colour co-ordinated for the next month, all her important messages replied to, and she was left with idle hands. Slumping a little, she started to scroll uninterestedly through her Quiv, willing herself to find some article or thread of Hoots to keep her mind occupied until Christian woke up and she had reason to stay here.
Usually at this point she'd just leave - she knew she had other stuff to do at home, all piled neatly on her desk, and she had nothing left to do at the boys' flat. Usually.
She contemplated for a moment, her eyes drifting back to his sleeping form. She bit her lip and let the Quiv hang loosely from her hand.
Usually.
And yet Christian was the sort of person that inspired her to sometimes find the fun in spontaneity, no matter how small it changed her usual. Even if it just meant slowing down and taking a few hours to yourself every now and then.
She only hesitated for a few moments before toeing off her slippers (she'd brought her pair over months ago and never thought to take them home, so the pair lived in Christian's room now) and moved to climb back into bed with him. He stirred only slightly when she lifted his arm so she could slip underneath it, but he settled again as she tucked herself into his chest. She felt Christian nose gently into her hair, and she smiled gently to herself, closing her eyes and beginning to doze with a hand resting over his heart.
Jasper recognised Christian's voice as soon as he started talking, and he couldn't really find it in himself to be surprised when the curtains around his bed were yanked back. Privacy had stopped being a thing that existed between the boys many years ago, so that wasn't exactly a problem, but he wasn't exactly alone this time.
He just had time to make sure Anousheh's bare chest was covered by his sheets before they were both exposed to Christian's wide eyed face staring down at them both.
"Evening," Jasper greeted him, casually.
But Christian barely even missed a beat when he saw the Ravenclaw who was in bed with him.
" - Oh hi, Anousheh, that's just great, it's that time of year again, is it? Well fuck my delicate emotions, I guess - I need a fucking shower."
Jasper and Anousheh just blinked after him as he didn't even take a breath in his rant, and the bathroom door slammed behind him.
"So we apparently missed something at the party?" Anousheh asked, raising an eyebrow at the door.
"Apparently," he replied. He started to move then, pulling on his briefs. "Excuse me - I think I have best friend duties to perform."
She snorted and turned over, wrapping the sheets around her more tightly. Jasper allowed himself a brief moment to lean over and kiss her shoulder, before he went and let himself into the bathroom.
Dominique could only blink at the sight in front of her. It was one of those moments where she really just had to stand and take stock of what the heck she was doing - because really her being stood in her boyfriend's bathroom watching him shower fully clothed was something that warranted a small minute to stop and wonder about the decisions she made to get there.
Jasper had been the one to call her in when she'd knocked politely at the boys' dorm room a few minutes earlier. He was the only one there - or so she'd thought. She was supposed to be meeting Christian there before they all went to the party together, and yeah she was a little bit early, but he said he'd be there whenever she wanted to show up. She'd clearly let her confusion show on her face because Jasper started explaining without her even having to ask.
"He's in the shower," he said cheerfully from his bed. He had a paintbrush and a pencil behind either ear, but by the looks of the debris cluttered over his lap and general surroundings, he seemed to be working on some sort of charcoal art. "Door's open, so you can go in."
Dom swallowed awkwardly.
At the silence, Jasper looked up again from his work. "Oh, don't worry," he said, as if only just realising what that might mean. "He'll have his clothes on. Unfortunately. He looks absolutely sex all wet and without a shirt on." He grinned wolfishly. "But that's for another time."
Dom liked Jasper, she did - he was sweet and unendingly kind - but as she spent more time with him she was always confronted with her own awkwardness. They were...very different people.
"He does this sometimes. But I figured you'd be turning up soon, and it was about time I started handing over best friend duties to you for girlfriend duties," he continued to explain, without really explaining. He paused for a moment, and looked over at the scrap of parchment that was left on Christian's bed. "I reckon he got a shitty letter from his parents or something? Whoever it's from it's got him all worked up. Do me a favour and tell him Jasper says to hurry the fuck up," he said then, his tone cheerful once more as he settled back down on his bed. "I kinda wanted my own shower before pre's."
So, even though she'd got more confused the longer Jasper had talked, she'd done as he said and let herself into the shower (slowly with her eyes politely averted and with a knock beforehand just in case)...and uh - yeah - there Christian was, stood in the shower, fully clothed.
Those few moments to process were crucial, because it gave her time to add everything up, as much as she could - and once they were over, Dom did what she did best and went into business mode, grabbing the nearest towel and moving so turn off the water. Christian's eyes were wide from under the damp, dripping curls that clung to his forehead, but Dom didn't really give him much time to worry.
"Come on," she said matter of factly, taking his hand and pulling him gently to follow her out of the cubicle - which he did, without any sort of hesitation. His steps slapped against the tiles with the weight of his waterclogged clothes, but she managed to get him onto the bath mat - and without another word she took her towel and started to dry his hair.
"Jasper said you got a letter." Under the towel, where she was pushing his wet ringlets away from his face, she caught glimpses of his lovely round eyes as he watched her. She slowed for a moment, a little gentler in her rubbing as they looked at each other.
"Uh," Christian started quietly. "Yeah."
She nodded, but didn't push it.
"He also asked me to pass on a message," she said then, moving on. "Something about asking you to, uh - 'hurry the fuck up'? His words, not mine."
Christian snorted then, something light coming back to his expression. "What time is it?"
"Still early," she said, going back to drying his hair, and then moving down to his neck and the top of his shoulders. "I didn't expect you'd be ready, I just thought I'd come down."
He nodded and smiled gently at her, and Dom felt something flutter in her. It was a new feeling, and she still wasn't exactly used to it, or even knew how to deal with it yet - she was getting better, granted but...baby steps. She didn't really know what else to do except look back up at him, while becoming increasingly aware of her hands on his shoulders and Jasper's voice somewhere in the back of her head mentioning how attractive he looked wet and...without a shirt on.
She was almost thankful when Jasper knocked loudly and let himself in to join them, asking if he was allowed to enjoy his own share of the hot water yet - it saved her from that stomach-dropping scariness of not really knowing what was going to come next, and she finally moved into action again, willing that feeling in stomach to disappear. At least until they were alone again.
~~
feat. the gif that inspired it
last edited Mar 28, 2019 21:54:18 GMT by Admin Nel
She hums in reply, her eyes drifting over the jewellery the store has to offer. It isn’t much, basically the same as what’s in every store on the beachfront they’d found themselves strolling down, and it’s so far only just been able to keep their minds off how insufferably hot it is.
That is, until this moment as Jasper completely forgets how his loose shirt seems to uncomfortably stick to his skin - because he’s found treasure.
“Lil,” Jasper persists. “Look at this.”
He finally gets her attention, and she turns around - very clearly not expecting to see Jasper holding That, given the double take she gives him as she actually sees It for the first time.
“The fuck is that?” she asks, half laughing, half appalled.
“I’m dying,” he replies, smiling so widely his cheeks hurt. “I need it.”
She makes a choking sound. “It’s monstrous.”
“Isn’t it?” Jasper agrees, delighted.
Lily comes over and takes it from him, turning it over and inspecting it. Much like Jasper, looking at it longer and harder only serves to confuse her more. It’s certainly a photo frame, and it’s certainly made out of sea shells - but -
“Is it meant to be a pig?” she asks.
“Fuck knows,” Jasper laughs. “But like - do we even need to know? This is...art.”
Lily snorts and finally relinquishes hold of the monster. “You’re paying for it.”
“You bet I am,” Jasper says enthusiastically. “This is Christian’s birthday present.”
No-one really questioned it at the time - cursed wounds are unpredictable at best, and none of them really had any idea about what state he was going to end up in. But Bill Weasley was awake for a lot longer than any of them knew.
Or at least, he hopes they didn’t know. It’s not like it’s something that they’d expect of him. Bill was a man who faced things head-on and never in halves, and pretending to be asleep to confront a new reality has never been his way before or since then. But something silent and crushing had him caught in his sickbed and he’d done little to fight his way out of its grasp.
“He was so handsome,” his mother had wept, more than once as she pushed his hair back with gentle hands that made his stomach ache with love - and she avoided his face, over and over again. “Always such a good boy - it isn’t fair - “
The more conscious he was of it the more it hurt.
He’d been on the end of more than his fair share of nasty curses before. His job landed him in places designed that no man should ever enter and live to tell the tale. But even amongst all that danger, there always lingered some sense of control over his fate. Bill had only what he considered to be a healthy amount of fear when he was by himself, tinkering in the pitch black of a tomb with an ancient curse. The kind that kept you on your toes, stopped you from being reckless - enough to make you realise when it was time to turn around.
When he’d been knocked to ground by the full force of Fenrir Greyback, Bill had been truly afraid.
Bill had assumed it would be easier to pretend to be asleep when it was just his father that was there with him. It was a rarer occasion, but often quieter - and with less said, perhaps there’d be less burden of expectation. But sometimes he could lay for a full hour with his Dad not saying anything at all, feeling like he couldn’t take a breath for fear of breaking the fragile pretence between them that everyone and everything was fine.
But everything was not fine - Dumbledore was dead, and so had he nearly been, and his face had felt like it was on fire without any respite -
It was a sort of pain that was spiritual. Physically it hurt, it hurt more than any hex or jinx or broken bone he’d ever had in his entire life - it seared and itched and burned and resisted any help it was offered from ointments and potions that were pointlessly dabbed on it. But he reckoned he could have dealt with that, if it had just been that. He could have grit his teeth and borne it.
But there was a residual pain that he could not begin to describe. The curse was etched deeper into his skin than the lacerations themselves, and the awful angry blackness of it felt like it was stretching its tendrils into the secret corners of his soul.
Ginny visited more than any of their other siblings - she almost became as permanent a fixture by his bedside as his parents and fiancee. He pretended with her too, even though she had more of a nose for bullshit than any of them. But even she did not seem to consider the fact that as he laid there for hours unresponsive, he was not healing but stagnating. It’s only later that he supposes that perhaps so was she. It was easier for them both to just be there silently and unknowingly in support of the other’s desire to simply exist to get through.
Because it was more peaceful to pretend than be truly awake - and certainly more peaceful than being asleep, where he still couldn’t escape the excruciating pain but also was plagued by memory. The memory of the weight he couldn’t shake, the malicious glee he could sense through the infliction, and the sinking realisation of his failure to hold onto control of his own life as it slipped away from him.
And even the act of waking from that held no respite, feeling like when he managed to grasp onto some consciousness that he was choking with searing anger, dread and fear in equal measure.
He pretended the least with Fleur - in his beckoning years this fact helped ease his own guilt for not pulling through quicker for his family’s sake. It was easier somehow - he suspects it’s because she did very little to treat him any differently. She could notice when his breathing would change and she would ask him what he thought of something for their wedding - what he thought of handmade favours, or whether he cared for this colour for chair backs - so he would crack his eyes open and answer.
“I’d marry you in Knockturn Alley,” he croaked once, his voice scratchy from lack of use and attempting a smile small enough not to ask for more pain. “But that pink is awful.”
“Yes,” she sniffed, a gentle hand on his thigh. “You should tell your mother this, I think.”
He nodded, letting his eyes fall closed. “It’s on the to-do list.”
“At least I am marrying a man with taste,” she said.
“I try.”
And he would feel her rest her head on his chest and he could almost pretend they were in their bed with her familiar weight on him and the smell of her everywhere.
He could breathe easier when he was breathing in Fleur.
“Cursed wounds are a nasty business,” Pomfrey said to him, one brief moment she’d caught him alert thanks to Fleur’s presence. She should have sent him to St. Mungo’s but with the state of the world and the state of his face, no-one had even brought this up as a suggestion. “You’re looking better by the day Mr. Weasley, but don’t be surprised if they never heal.”
And so they didn’t.
He would go years after the fact - after finding the will to pull himself out of that bed and back up, to putting himself back together, and fighting wars and forcing himself through sheer determination to forget whatever the hell it was that hurt him - and still when he least expected it the pain would come as shocking and brutal as it had from the first.
Dominique was only a toddler, she couldn’t have understood what it meant to have scuffed her dad’s face when they were playing. Even he couldn’t really - the scars looked as ugly as ever, but were long sealed - he’d been in plenty of situations worse and more painful than a kick to the face from his toddler but -
- but quite suddenly in a jolt of lightning his whole body feels like it’s filled with black poisonous tar - he can feel painful hate and fear as vividly as ever - and relives the moment all over again of when he watched the life leaves Fenrir Greyback’s eyes under his own hands -
But she’s just a baby, and just sees her Dad flinch away from her so violently that it scares her - so she cries.
And after that second, that long awful second, when he comes back to himself, he can chase away the burning, on his face and the ghostly pain lingering somewhere else - as he wraps her up and apologises and laughs as she works herself up into a little tantrum, because this little fighter of his swings so quickly between being sweet and easy to being a nightmare that he can’t help but love her because she is so him and so Fleur that it makes his heart melt.
She won’t remember it, and that’s fine - better than that, it’s good. It would mean nothing if they’d all suffered - him, his family, his friends, the world - and they couldn’t raise children who didn’t know what it was like to feel pain like that.
Still, he has to pretend to sleep again that night.
