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“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I’m sure it isn’t true.” Neville rambled, his shoulders shrinking away all of the tall confidence he had walked with a moment ago.
“Don’t be an idiot. Of course it’s true. Read the papers in a week, you’ll see.”
“Oh.” He almost looked more disappointed than she had been. Such unnecessary emotion. What did Draco see in these Gryffindors?
“Don’t you dare pity me.” Pansy pulled out her wand, ignoring his slight flinch as she charmed her glass to fill and took a deep drink.
The liquor warmed her veins, clouding her concentration and lowering her guard. She thought out loud, half forgetting that she had an audience. “Draco always wanted her, you know. I’m not blind. It was third year, maybe fourth? Suddenly he worshipped her. He set her up on a great pedestal and made it impossible to climb. And I just…I need to know, I think, is it too much to ask? For the rest of us, us mortals, to be…
“Worshipped?” his voice was soft and overly intimate, making her lips part in a silent gasp.
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Bookmarked by broatmeal
07 Nov 2025
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Kids grow up fast when a cruel world awaits them. In times of hopelessness, Katara and Zuko grow together. In times of separation, they hope to see each other again.
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Bookmarked by broatmeal
12 Aug 2025
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Zuko goes into exile with a scar, a mission, and a wife.
The girl wears ill fitted ceremonial silks. She is too thin, with jutting bones and hollowed eyes. Dirt smudges her cheek. Her lower lip has a healing split in it. Gaudy as her finery is, she wears it like prisoner’s rags.
All of this Zuko registers in the time it takes him to reach the dais and bow. Every muscle aches with the remembrance of what happened the last time he knelt before Father. This time there is no begging, no roar of the crowd, no burning. Still—Zuko’s grateful to stand once more.
Slipping into soldier’s parade rest, he waits for what will come next, all too aware of the girl’s defiant body next to his.
“I am told that this is Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” Father says, cruel amusement oiling his words. The phrasing makes the girl sound like a thing. “The last waterbender of their pathetic tribe.” Flames conceal all but his shadow, yet Zuko knows from long experience the exacting blade of his father’s smirk. The smirk he must surely wear now. Because he has built up his insult and now he lets it fall. “Your bride.”
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Bookmarked by broatmeal
12 Aug 2025
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Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.
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- 11/11
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Bookmarked by broatmeal
06 Jun 2025
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Gardening is not a discipline for the easily discouraged. The earth can be recalcitrant towards humans, perhaps in resentment for all that they have destroyed, and will often turn even a wizard’s hard labor into dross – leaving him with naught but the cold, barren ground, or the rot of heartless blight, or the bloody prick of tangled thorns.
But Neville Longbottom is a patient man.
He sees what he wants – what he has long wanted – in a Dorset cottage rose garden, and he will wait as long as he needs for her to bloom.
[In which Pansy Parkinson, against her better judgment, falls in love.]
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Bookmarked by broatmeal
28 Jul 2024