Susan has always sought that which would make her feel what she could not. Even if it hurts, she runs after it anyway, because dying is better than feeling nothing at all. *Mentions of self-injury and death.*
"There are a million things that bind us together-the fact that we're cousins just happens to be one of them." Everyone has a different point of view, of course, and the Weasley grandchildren have their own stories to tell, in their own words. These are the things that bind them together, connecting them, making them who they are. These are their lives, these are their stories.
Of course Trelawney's so-called predictions are nothing more than the ramblings of a drunken madwoman. There's no way she's really a Seer, right? Parvati is certain that Lavender is merely overreacting to one of Trelawney's crazing ravings and nothing more. She can't be a real Seer. rated M for violence. warning: death.
There was always fighting in the house now, and Rose knew it was her job to keep her brother safe.
James asked Frank to join him against a stranger in a gun fight that goes in a very unexpected direction.
Scorpius isn't sure what I love you even means, but with Albus, he doesn't even care.
Rosalie isn't so sure about her cousin's job tending to the dragons in Romania, but when he invites her to visit him, Rosalie will truly experience the life of those who work at Dragon's Keep
Arnaeus wants nothing more than freedom to leave the chapel for one day and fly like the birds he sees outside. But, as a vampire, he will never be able to step foot out into the sun.
"I… can't." There is fear in the blond's eyes as he stares at his boyfriend's staring eyes; the younger male is shaking, the gun strapped to his hands trembling as he tries to remain composed. There is the fast beating of his heart and the heavy breathing of the male on the ground before him, but all else is silent.
*AU* Lily Evans has never seen a sunrise in her life, because she was born totally blind. But this won't stop the eleven year old from dreaming of attending a special school in Scotland.
Percy receives an assignment to look into the international standardisation of cauldron thickness.
He never leaves her side, never stops talking, whispering his secrets into her ear until she can no longer stand it.
There was blood in the air, the smell of rust hitting Fenrir's nose as he crawled over the rocks on all fours; the werewolf leaned upwards, taking in the smell of blood and fear that tingled and crawled over the entire area, reminding him of the terror that filled his victims in their last moments before he ended it all.
My past does not define me. My past has no control over my present. My past does not tell you the kind of person I am. My past is not always who I am. Ah, life. What an interesting concept, sewn haphazardly together by many parts. Love and happiness, death and sorrow. All of it just key pieces in the quilt of immortality. Because, we die, but our stories will live on forever.
Parvati came home with a pounding headache, the spot just behind her eyes throbbing loudly as she turned the key in the lock. The house was empty-or, rather, it was supposed to be-with Lakshmi at work and Savita had probably not yet gotten back from her classes. There was no one else around, just her and the empty, aging house that groaned as she dropped her keys in the bowl.
Lavender might not have ever spoken to Lee again, except that Parvati so politely reminded her that there was, in fact, a war going on around them, and Lee was being extremely reckless and stupid by working for the anti-Death Eater radios and Potterwatch, and Lavender might never see Lee alive another time, not ever again, something which had not occurred to Lavender in her anger
James woke to the smell of his wife's lavender scented shampoo, but not his wife; her side of the bed had been abandoned, the covers pulled back, and not even her shape from hours of sleep remained behind. He lifted his head, searching for the sound of the shower running, or perhaps the happy laughter of his son in the nursery, but there was nothing but silence to be heard...
He had never told her his name, not once, and she had not offered her own. They both knew that someone in their family had been, in some way or another, involved in the Battle of Hogwarts-that was the whole point of this group, descendants of those great heroes, the ones who had lived on and passed down their stories.
Kreacher patted the pillows with his long, slender fingers, watching as a few wheezing feathers were shot out from the sides; the pillow, it must be said, was older than Kreacher himself, and was mostly flat-feathers liked to escape from their flat confines. Kreacher did not appreciate this very much, but he was a house-elf, and no one really cared what a house elf thinks.
He loves the Astronomy Tower, the way it curved ever upwards into the sky, like it will never-can never-end, poking the clouds above James' head. The Astronomy Tower is the place he goes to when things got bad; it is his hiding place, where he cowers through storms, where he sobs into his shirt like a child. (mentions of considered/attempted suicide)