Kat

Draco gives you the dress he promised you. It’s gorgeous; black with delicate lacing. He didn’t appreciate the hair dye, claiming that he’s never ever dyed his own “virgin” hair. Anyone with eyes wouldn’t believe him.

It’s strange, being in Malfoy Manor without Lucius Malfoy. Quieter. Colder, somehow. The life and soul seems to be sucked out of Draco just by being here. Under the overwhelming weight of his new title and of his father’s absence. You’re both forced to go to two different deatheater meetings, where your father announces how you have successfully charmed “the Potter boy.”

Your father calls you in on Christmas evening. He sits on a throne-like chair at the end of the Malfoy’s dining room. The table that usually sits in the centre of the room has been removed, along with the chairs, leading to a dark, airy feel to the room.

“I am pleased with you, my daughter. I do hope you will continue to please me throughout your school year. Also, I forgot to tell you that I expect you and young Mr Malfoy to share a room, at Lucius’s request. He wishes for you two to begin your romance.” Your father’s free hand absently strokes Nagini, the snake he loves more than you.

“Yes, my lord.” You bow your head slightly.

“Do not disappoint me again. Oh, and tell the young Malfoy his time is almost up.”

You nod quickly and leave in a hurry. That night was terrible. When you walk into Draco’s room he’s sitting on the bed, staring daggers at you. He must have been staring at the door for a while before you came in, because his eyes have a sort of glazed look to them.

You don’t bother to say hello. “I’m taking the bed,” you announce, flopping onto the spongy mattress. “Omg Draco this mattress is so comfy,” you sigh, snuggling into the blanket.

Draco has his best, I’m-a-Malfoy, outraged look and just shoves you off the bed. You land hard on the carpeted floor.

Oh game on. You roll and get to your feet, launching the nearest pillow at Malfoy before dodging his returning projectile. However, you’re not fast enough to dodge the second and you quickly fire it back at him.

After several minutes of this back and forth you both come to a standstill. “I pull rank over you. I get the bed,” you finally demand, holding your status as your father’s daughter over him.

“It’s my room,” Draco retorts, eyes staring hard into yours.

“Why can’t you just go somewhere else?” You complain.

“Because your father would kill me for disobeying him!”

“Fine. We’ll just… share.”

“Share?” Draco looks truly disgusted now.

“We’ll set up a barrier. Divide the bed into two,” you suggest, beginning to arrange Draco’s ridiculous amount of pillows into a barrier in the middle of the bed. His bed is more than big enough that it still provides sufficient room for both of you.

Draco nods reluctantly after a moment and starts to help you, before turning away from you, signalling that he’s ready to sleep. It’s only now that you realise how sparse his room is. It used to be filled with Slytherin memorabilia and quidditch posters. Now, it’s almost laid bare. Clean and minimalist. You can still see the corner of one of his posters, the rest of which had clearly been torn off of the wall. It was safe to say that Draco was wholly disillusioned with petty house competitions and sports now.

You could almost swear you could hear him crying in the middle of the night.

On the night of Boxing Day you decide to go for a walk. It’s cold, so you wrap up in a scarf and a cosy jumper. Harry would have given you his scarf. You find yourself missing him, and, with little thought for the consequences, you apparate to the Weasleys. Screw the trace.

Harry had given you the Weasley’s address in passing conversation several weeks ago. High grasses conceal you as you look into the Weasleys’ kitchen. Ron and his family are sitting around the table, laughing and passing plates around. It fills your heart with a biting envy, seeing such a happy family.

You see a silhouette against one of the windows. Moving closer, you realise it’s Harry. Grabbing a stone, you throw it against the window. Harry turns around, startled. His eyes widen comically when he sees you.

A minute later, Harry sneaks out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. “What are you doing here?” He asks, taking both your hands in his.

“I missed you,” you whisper against his ear.

Harry looks concerned. “You still have the trace on you!”

“My father got rid of that years ago. I can do magic as I please. He didn’t want me being tracked whilst he was encouraging me to preform Unforgivables,” you explain.

Harry looks sympathetic until you bend down, bundling up the cold snow and launching it at him. Harry stares, dumbfounded, before laughing and starting a counter attack. Running into the tall grass, you’re out of breath by the time Harry catches you, he stuffs a handful of snow down your back. You squeal and push him away, to which he wraps his arms around you and hugs you close.

“I missed you too,” he breathes. His lips catch yours in a deep kiss. You hold onto him tightly as his tongue collides with yours. Harry’s kissing you like a man starved. His warmth melts your coldness.

After snogging for a substantial amount of time, Harry takes you on a walk around the countryside. He tells you funny stories of Christmas at the Weasley’s. Your heart burns with jealousy so poignant you almost choke on it.

Harry gives you his scarf, as is your tradition. “I’m going to start keeping these,” you tease him, snuggling in closer to the soft material.

“Take it if you want,” Harry laughs. “You’re like a cat. Always snuggling up to whatever’s warmest.”

“That is offensive. Cats eat magpies,” you say in mock outrage. Harry raises his hands in surrender.

“How was your Christmas?” Harry asks.

“The usual. Spent the day with Severus and Draco. Draco got me this gorgeous dress,” you sigh happily.

Harry’s grip on your hand tightens. “Does Malfoy often get you presents?”

“Are you jealous?” You grin.

Harry shakes his head casually. “No, I’m just wondering. Do you spend a lot of time with Draco?” He asks, the way he enunciates Draco makes you giggle.

“So what if I do?”

“I’m just being friendly. You know, I’m interested in Malfoy. He plays Quidditch. Maybe next game he’ll fall off his broom and plummet to his death.”

You elbow him. “Don’t be mean Harry.”

“I’m just saying, that would be a terrible accident,” he says, smiling as if imagining Draco suffering a terrible injury.

“You are so jealous!” You exclaim. “You do realise if I was interested in Draco I would be with him and not you right now?”

“Maybe you’re two-timing us.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t have time for that, I’m a busy girl.”

“I imagine being a deatheater could be quite time-consuming,” Harry remarks and you give him a dirty look.

“Ah yes, what with all the kids I’m murdering everyday,” you say sarcastically.

“Has your dad tried to make you do anything over the holidays?” Harry asks, taking on a more serious tone.

“No. He’s actually pleased with me at the moment. He believes I have successfully ensnared the trust of the chosen one.”

“That you have. You could stab me right now and I wouldn’t believe that you’ve betrayed me.”

You frown. “Harry you shouldn’t trust me. I’ve told you a hundred times. I’m a death eater. Sooner or later I will hurt you.”

Harry shakes his head. “That’s just something you say because you’re scared.”

“Harry I can’t betray my father.”

“You can. You just need to wake up and realise you have free will. You can do what you want. Follow what you believe in.” Harry’s eyes implore you, begging you to see reason. Gently, you push him away a little, creating some distance between you.

“Harry I’m already doing things. Bad things. Things I can’t tell you about,” you whisper.

Harry takes your hand defiantly. “I don’t care about what he’s making you do. Some day you’re going to defy him. I know it,” his fingers ghost over your knuckles.

“You have too high an opinion of me.”

“No, I just know a good person when I see one. You don’t realise it, but you’ve already defied him. By being with me. By opening up your heart to me.” With that, Harry takes your hand in his, fingers ghosting over your knuckles.

He pauses for a moment. “My godfather, Sirius, you remind me of him,” he whispers, voice choked.

Squeezing his hand tightly, you allow him to come closer to you yet again. “I’m sorry that he died.” You had heard the news of Sirius Black’s death from Bellatrix, who gloated her triumph over her own cousin.

Harry simply nods, unable to bring himself to speak, the scar of Black’s death still an open, infected wound. After a moment, he heaves a deep, shuddering sigh and begins to speak. “His family were pureblood elitists. He didn’t share their values. He ran away at sixteen and joined the Order along with my father. He defied them, all of them, for his beliefs.” A singular tear runs down Harry’s cheek. You wipe it away with the pad of your thumb.

“I wish I could be brave like that,” you whisper.

“You can,” is all Harry has to say. ———————————————————————

A week later you’re back at school. Draco is looking worse than ever. Slughorn was meant to give the mead to Dumbledore already, yet he wasn’t yet dead. Neither of you know if Dumbledore had even received the present yet, and, if he had, had he realised it was laced with poison?

There seems to be an invisible clock following the both of you around, reminding you that your time to kill Dumbledore, and also your time with Harry, was coming to a close. Harry was growing more and more suspicious of Draco, and it was hard to try and curb his suspicions.

One cold morning, you’re studying in the library. One thing that’s surprised you about school is how much you’ve loved doing your schoolwork. You enjoy classes, learning even more than Severus ever taught you. It feels good to study for class tests, even if you know you won’t be here next year to complete your N.E.W.Ts.

You’re in the middle of a particularly grueling DADA homework when Hermione comes over, dropping a heavy tome onto the table in front of you. She looks frustrated, and you immediately hope that it’s not you she’s angry at- the young witch could be quite formidable when upset.

“What’s up?” You ask cautiously.

“It’s Ron. He’s still going out with that- with that- horrible toad!” She decides on. Your eyebrows fly up, that was quite strong language for Hermione. Then, her eyes meet yours in a sudden manner. “What should I do?” She pleads.

You pause. This was surreal, someone was asking you, of all people, for relationship advice? Hesitating for a moment, you try to think of what to say to her.

“Have you tried telling him how you feel?” You offer.

Hermione slaps you lightly with your homework. “I can’t do that! That would be catastrophic. How on earth did you get Harry, with that kind of attitude?”

You consider it for a moment. “I kept pushing him away, but he kept pursuing me. And eventually, I let him in. Although I do still tell him not to trust me.”

“Why can’t Ron just chase me?” She groans. You offer her a sympathetic smile, when, suddenly, an idea occurs.

“Make him jealous!”

“Already tried that. It worked but nothing happened.”

“Oh,” you sigh, deflated. Hermione changed the subject, asking you about your homework and you gladly start discussing it.

After a while, Harry joins you, and you help him with his potions. He’s not very good at it, despite being the one to win the liquid luck in class. It only confirms your suspicions that he had copied all the tips you had shared with Hermione.

Draco comes in, and eyes you and Harry, before retreating further into the depths of the library. Your heart pangs in sympathy, and you get up to follow him. Draco had begun to isolate himself from all his other friends, unable to share the burden that he was carrying.

You find him in the back corner of the library, breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. Sitting down beside him, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe in, one, two, three, four,” you begin to guide him as Harry did for you that fateful night. Slowly, Draco’s breathing begins to slow, his eyes look slightly less panicked.

“We don’t have much time left,” Draco breathes, eyes looking desperately into yours.

“We’ll figure it out, Draco. Don’t worry.” Your assurances seem false and futile. You should both be worrying. Your father would no doubt kill Draco if he fails this task. He might kill you too.

———————————————————————

The weeks pass in a blur. Harry has been so sweet to you that it breaks your heart. He takes you out to Hogsmeade almost every weekend. Your drawers of full with an array of fancy chocolates that he’s bought you. Hermione informs you that he has been really nervous about dating you, and has constantly been seeking her advice on “what do girls like.” Apparently not all famous people have natural boyfriend-skills.

The tension between Ron and Hermione has risen to the point where she can’t be in the same room with him, she’s so angry, which has led to her spending more time with you. It’s nice, to have a girl friend. Another plus is that Hermione is an absolute brain wave, and is always willing to help you with your homework.

Dumbledore still isn’t dead. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Draco would have to kill him face to face. Or you would have to. The time you’re not spending with Harry is spent with Draco, devising futile plans that both of you know will never work.

One cold February morning, you’re sitting in Harry’s dorm (he snuck you in under his cloak), and you accidentally let slip to Harry that you were made to share a bed with Draco over the winter holidays. He stares at you for a solid minute before clearing his throat.

“Yeah, I mean that’s cool. Like I share a bed with Hermione all the time. It’s such a normal, friendly thing to do,” he says, though his eyes seem almost greener with jealousy.

“Harry don’t be jealous. My father made us. We even set up a pillow barrier between us and trust me, Draco’s bed is so big that we were nowhere near each other.”

Harry grimaces. “Now I have the visual of you, in Malfoy’s bed. I’m just going to drown myself in the black lake,” he surmises, heading towards decidedly towards the famous lake.

You grab his arm and he spins around, and you smash your lips against his own. Harry returns the kiss heatedly, pulling you closer to him. He’s devouring you, you can almost taste the jealousy on his tongue, along with something a lot sweeter: desire.

You generally try not to be too physical with Harry, because it unlocks a deeper desire within you. It makes you want him so much it scares you, because it hints at something real. Something permanent. Something that can never happen between the two of you. A lasting relationship is just about as likely for you and Harry as your father eloping with Severus in a flip flop shop in Hawaii.

But right now you’re not thinking about the fact that this relationship won’t last. You’re not thinking about the war, or your father. All you can concentrate on is the feeling of Harry’s lips on yours.

Suddenly, you’re on the bed, and Harry’s on top of you and everything is so hot. The heat if his mouth, the weight of his body. Before you know it, you’re unbuttoning his shirt.

Harry stops suddenly. His eyes look apologetically into yours. “Not- not now,” he says, shifting so that he’s sitting beside you.

“Why not?” You ask, humiliated and embarrassed. Had you misinterpreted his feelings for you? Was Harry not attracted to you?

“Because I know you. And I know you’ll regret it if we do this on impulse. You like to think things through. Overthink them, to be honest, and I know you don’t really want this to happen like this.”

“I think I love you,” you blurt out suddenly.

“I know I love you,” Harry says, taking your hand in his. In a way, you’re glad you didn’t lose your virginity on a whim on a random Thursday morning. Harry was right. Maybe he was right about other things too. Maybe thing would be okay.

You still highly doubted it.

Notes: Thank you so much to anyone who’s reading this. I’ve had this story in my head for a while, but I’ve decided to put it all down for anyone who’s interested. Also did anyone catch that reference? Also thanks for waiting so long for this! (Next part will take a while soz.)

• He will BEG you to go to the gym with him and when you finally agree he’s at your house at 5AM wondering why you aren’t dressed yet.

• He pays for you every time you two go out. Doesn’t matter how much you protest. Sometimes he’ll say that you can pay, only to sneakily pay when he says he’s “going to the toilet.”

• When you’re kissing he’s holding you against him like a man starved: one arm around your waist, holding you closer and the other entangled in your hair, pulling your lips closer to him.

• He gives the best sports massages. Any time you’re the tiniest bit stressed he just tells you to lie down on his bed. It’s genuinely heavenly.

• When you start going out with him he’s hesitant to show you how much he cares about you. Johnny’s always controlled, and never engages in PDA. That is, until after a couple of months, where he doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, take your hand, and kiss you anywhere.

• Johnny fully uses you as an excuse to not go to parties. He’ll make up some bc explanation, saying that you “didn’t want him there,” or that you “were in a bad mood,” so that he doesn’t have to go, even though you’ve said nothing of the sort. Of course, this breaks Gibsie’s heart.

• Because of this, Gibsie decides to corner you one day, asking you why you’ve taken his wing man away from him. After you explain that Johnny was bullshitting him, he huffed and ignored Johnny for the whole afternoon, until Johnny promised to go to Biddie’s with him.

• He panics when you’re on get your period for the first time at his house. I mean this man practically clears the shops for every type of period products, along with your favourite chocolate, of course. He doesn’t have a sister and has never had a proper girlfriend before you so he ends up accidentally getting you extra-big-super-absorbent-night-pads.

• After this whole ordeal he has a small basket of stuff for you in his ensuite bathroom, including mini deodorants and body sprays, pads/tampons and a toothbrush for when you stay over.

• The first time you meet his parents is a disaster. Johnny ends up inadvertently revealing that he lost his virginity atthirteen. After this Edel pulled you aside and gave you what must have been the longest conversation of your life about “the birds and the bees” and how you should stay away from her “delinquent” son.

• She also asks John to set up security cameras around the house so you can’t sneak in and Johnny can’t sneak out. John laughed and refused.

• He never chooses what film you guys watch when you go to the cinema or have a movie night. When you ask him he’ll guess options he thinks you want to watch and refuses to give any genuine answers. This means that you’ve both watched dirty dancing enough times to recite it line to line. Although he doesn’t like it when you stare a little to long at Patrick Swayze.

• He doesn’t like you spending too much time around Gibsie, claiming that he’s a bad influence on you. This mostly arised from the time you spend half an hour with Gibsie alone and came home with a bagful of condoms and a c.d with dirty songs on it.

• He throws birthday parties for Sookie, and everyone in his friend group is invited. She even has a little party cone hat and loads of doggie treats. He demands that everyone comes brings a present too.

• He LOVES pet names. I mean this man never calls you by your actual name, it’s always baby, sweetheart or the occasional love. He also gets slightly annoyed if you don’t call him baby often enough.

• He knows that when you get stressed you like your hair out of your face so he always has a hair bobble on his person, no matter how much the lads take the piss out of him for it.

Masterlist!

WARNINGS: Drug use, drug addiction, alcohol. Emotionally abusive relationship (on Shane’s side), age gap (Shane and reader), abusive language, mentions of alcoholism, sex references, kissing when drunk, kind of sexual assault? - this is a heavy story, please don read unless you mentally can

It was another two weeks before you saw him again. Shane was outraged when you got back from the hospital the last day. He’d screamed the house down. It was one of your worst fights ever. So bad that you had packed up your shit and threatened to leave. However, Shane heard the bluff in your tone and mocked you, calling you a coward. You slept in your own bed that night, even your mother’s drunken cries was better than Shane’s drug-induced rage.

As was usual, you came crawling back to Shane the next morning, apologetic and in need of a serious high. Shane, as always, welcomed you back with open arms. He was always more than willing to supply you with every drug he had. Eager as ever to keep you high and careless.

Two weeks later and you’re back at the pub Gibsie works at- although, you wouldn’t know it, because you’re completely wasted by the time you get there. Sitting in the usual booth in the back of the pub, you rest your head against Shane, holding his hand limply. You don’t stop him when he shoves his tongue down your throat, or when his hand snakes up your thigh. Shane’s always takes what he wants when he wants, and you never stop him.

“Is she even conscious?” You dimly hear a voice ask. Shane’s lips leave your not half a second later. You open your eyes slowly, only to see the same blonde mop of hair you met weeks ago. Gibsie.

“What did you say?” Shane asks, standing up from the booth and drawing up his full height. He’s still a few inches shorter than Gibsie, but the menacing look in his eye easily compensates for it.

“I asked is the girl you’re practically fingering there even awake,” Gibsie replies. He’s not shying away from Shane, and anyone with eyes can see why. Gibsie is broad, with muscled shoulders and a sturdy physique. He looks like your typical rich rugby boy. Shane on the other hand, is scrawny; much leaner than Gibsie.

“I’m awake,” you slur in an attempt to diffuse the tension seeping into the room. Both boys ignore you, but Gibsie’s eyes briefly flash to yours. His eyes are a deep blue, and are currently filled with concern.

“What I do with my girl is none of your fucking business. And if you want to wake up tomorrow morning I’d start by keeping your nose out of my business,” Shane says, face inches away from Gibsie’s.

“See it is my business when you’re feeling up an underage girl in the bar I’m working in.”

“I don’t give a fuck if she’s underage. It’s still none of your fucking business. I could fuck her in this booth and it still wouldn’t be any of your business.”

The conversation had definitely taken an awkward turn. Shane was high, which made him much more irritable and violent than ever. Gibsie seems to have a good head on his shoulders, but would that be enough to stop Shane from starting a fight? You doubt it.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Gibsie replies and you breathe a sigh of relief. He’s taken the high road. You’re almost sinking into the booth, ready to fall asleep when Shane punches Gibsie. Instantly, without missing a beat, Gibsie hits Shane full-force in the jaw.

Shane looks wild with rage, he gives Gibsie a venomous look before pelting him in the nose. Gibsie rears back. “Bloody bastard!” He cries, clutching at his nose, before running into Shane, rugby tackling him to the ground.

Cries go up from around the bar. The two boys are rolling around on the floor. Gibsie is much bigger and stronger but Shane is lithe and has a lot of experience in bar fights. Although, the way Gibsie is hitting him, you’d guess he has a fair amount of experience too.

You stumbled out of the booth, trying to break both of them up. It doesn’t work. Instead, Shane’s fist connects with your face as you trip and fall onto both of them. Reeling back, you hold your face in agony. Gibsie snaps his head up, immediately disentangling himself from Shane and cradling your face.

“Fuck, are you alright?” His eyes search yours. You nod slowly, until Shane shoves Gibsie out of the way.

“You’re alright, aren’t ya?” Shane eyes the red patch on your cheekbone. He pats your cheek condescendingly. He shakes a small bag of coke in your face- as consolation. You grab it shakily and Shane smiles. “Good girl.” Someone calls him over, and he slithers off, fight with Gibsie temporarily forgotten. His head is always like a sieve when he takes coke.

You force yourself up onto the booth, lying down, cheek still smarting in pain. Gibsie comes back over a minute later, ice pack in hand. “Here,” he says, pressing it against your cheek. You groan in response. “Are you high?” He squints down at you.

“When am I not?” You giggle. Gibsie doesn’t look amused. In fact, he looks like he’s ready to start another fight.

“You need to sort your shit out.”

“I get that a lot,” you reply, holding your hands up do Gibsie will help you up. He does. “But what’s the point?” You sigh.

“Your future? You’re not going to get anywhere as a druggie’s girlfriend,” Gibsie snaps.

You simply roll your eyes. Gibsie shakes his head, and he reminds you of a mother hen, which makes you laugh, which makes him shake his head even more.

“I’ll get you some water,” he says, disappearing for a moment and coming back with a pint glass full of water. Grateful, you take a long sip.

“Thanks,” you murmur, still holding the ice pack to your cheek. Gibsie removes it for a moment, silently inspecting the angry pink mark left there.

“My shift ends in an hour. Let me take you home,” he asks pleadingly, blue eyes boring into your dilated ones.

You shake your head slowly. “Me and Shane will go home when he’s sold all his shit.”

“Do you live with him?” Gibsie demands.

“Pretty much,” you admit. Gibsie looks disgusted. He walks away, going back to serve the patrons of the bar drinks. In an attempt to sober up, you down the entire pint of water.

Shane comes swaggering back over. “Why were you talking to that bastard?” He gestures at Gibsie, pouring pints from behind the bar.

“He was talking to me,” you reply.

“It didn’t look like you were telling him to fuck off,” Shane remarks, eyes staring hard into yours, a dangerous, possessive glint in them.

“Shane I can’t tell every boy he says hello to fuck off.”

“No but you can certainly tell that blonde bastard to,” he snipes.

“I was just being polite.”

“You’re not that desperate are you?” He shakes his head. “Of course you fucking are. Just lapping up attention from whoever is horny enough to give it to you,” he snarls, spittle flying from his mouth. Shane can be scary like this. When he’s high and mean, and has got a bone to pick.

“Shane you know I only want you,” you try to soothe him, rubbing your hands down his arms. He softens slightly, your ego-inflating words temporarily placate him. That’s how it always is with Shane. He sends words as sharp as knives your way and you comfort him as you bleed.

“Come on, we’ll do a line together,” he says, beginning to tug you away to the men’s bathroom. You know what he really wants to do there. Your mind flashes briefly to what Gibsie said earlier, about how you need to start pulling your shit together.

“Shane, I don’t want to,” you whisper, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear you. Immediately, his face is transformed. He becomes very red very quickly, eyes narrowing in contempt.

“The fuck do you mean you don’t want to?” He demands, still tugging on your hand.

“I just, I’ve sobered up a little and I don’t want to throw up again,” you say. Shane looks at you in disbelief. This is the first time you’ve ever said no to him. Your heart is roaring in your ears, and for a second you think he’s actually going to hit you.

Instead, he drops your hand, disgusted, and storms away. You breathe a sigh of relief, at least he’s not going to make a scene in front of everyone. Slowly, you slide back into the booth, lying down. Within minutes, you’re asleep.

———————————————————————

An hour later, you’re woken up by someone incessantly tapping on your shoulder. You try to swat them away, but they persist. Cracking open an eye, you find Gibsie standing at the end of the booth, smiling apologetically.

“What time is it?” You groan.

“Twelve o’clock. You slept for an hour,” Gibsie replied cheerily.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” You grumble.

“Because you’re not with Shane right now. Which I’m presuming means you two had a fight.” He’s grinning like a maniac, and even has the audacity to do a little wiggle-dance.

“He wanted me to take more drugs. I said no,” you say quietly. Gibsie’s grin widens, if that’s even possible.

“Shane left, by the way.” Gibsie looks like the cat who got the cream.

Nodding slowly, you stand up. Your head is pounding from the aftershocks of the drugs you took earlier. The bar is lively. It’s a Saturday night, and there’s an old match on the large tv in the centre of the pub. You’re surprised nobody woke you up to try and claim your booth.

“Can I give you a ride home?” Gibsie asks gently, as if you’re a horse that will spook easily.

You hesitate, thinking. Shane will still be too angry at you for you to even think about going there. But today is a Saturday, which means your mam will be drinking herself into a stupor on the sofa, and will scream at you if you dare enter the door.

“I have nowhere to go,” you realise quickly. Gibsie’s eyebrows draw together in concern.

“Because of your mam…?” He asks hesitantly and you nod. He pauses for a moment, before grabbing your jacket. “You can come to my house!” He announces, walking away before you have the chance to protest.

You chase after him. “I can’t just go to your house!” You exclaim and Gibsie shrugs.

“My mam is working late at the bakery. It’s grand,” he shrugs. You gape at him.

“But Shane…”

“He won’t know. And it’s good for you to get away from him,” he adds. You, miraculously, start agreeing with him.

Gibsie leads you over to his car. In the panic of the last day, you didn’t notice how expensive it is. How pristine it looks. You step in lightly, afraid you’ll taint it. Gibsie starts the car and it takes ten minutes to reach his house. It’s on the richer side of town.

He pulls up beside a detached house with a nice garden, bright flowers seem to wave at you from the grasses. Cautiously, you follow Gibsie up the path. He takes out the keys and unlocks the door.

The house is nice. And not just nice as in expensive, it’s homely. The welcoming smell of bread assaults your senses. It’s tidy, but not too clean. A plush carpet rises to greet your feet.

Gibsie grins sheepishly. “I made muffins earlier,” he explains. “I would offer you one but I ate all ten,” he shrugs, rubbing his stomach, as if in contemplation. Laughing softly, you follow him up the stairs.

He leads you into his room. It’s messy, clothes decorate the floor and pens and pieces of paper litter the small desk.

You spin around to him suddenly. “Will I sleep on the sofa?” You ask. Gibsie shakes his head.

“You can take my bed. I… I don’t really sleep there anyway,” he says, a little awkwardly.

“Where do you sleep then?”

“The floor, generally.”

You stare at him for a moment, but decide not to press it. After all, you never sleep in your own bed either. Climbing into his bed, you watch as Gibsie rolls a blanket and pillow out on the floor.

“Goodnight,” you hear him whisper as you drift off.

Notes: sorry this took so long. I have ideas for where this is going, but I’m super-duper busy in the next few weeks so I’m unlikely to get the next few chapter out quickly. (Also I’m writing another series.) also there will be some of Gisbie’s friend group in the next chapter hehe

masterlist!

When you get back to the castle, Harry leaves you at the door, running to find Professor McGonagall. Draco runs in shortly after you. He looks like death. You grab his hand and you both run to the common room.

“She touched it Draco,” you cried, tears streaming down your face now. Draco looks sick to his stomach. Taking his hand, you guide him up to his dorm. Thankfully, it’s empty. Draco hasn’t said anything the whole time. He’s in shock, you think.

Unwrapping the chocolate Harry bought you, you break off a piece and give it to Draco. Chocolate is meant to help shock, right? He eats it numbly, before his eyes meet yours.

“Is she dead?” He asks, light grey boring into yours.

“I don’t know Draco. I don’t know.” Sitting beside him on the bed, you rest your forehead on his shoulder. He’s crying, so are you.

“What if we killed her?” Draco asks, eyes desperate. All you can do is shrug helplessly. “Her name is Katie,” he gasps.

You don’t know how long the two of you wait like that. Stuck in a dreadful limbo, unsure if you’re both murderers or not. Eventually, you stand up slowly.

“I’ll go find Harry and see what the verdict is,” you whisper. Draco nods slowly.

You find Harry outside McGonagall’s classroom. He looks petulant, arms crossed. “Is the girl okay?” You ask as you get nearer.

Harry looks up and shrugs. “She’s in a coma. They don’t know if she’ll make it.” Your breath stutters. Both you and Draco were still stuck in that limbo. “It was Draco. I know it was,” he looks at you for confirmation.

“Draco isn’t a death eater Harry,” you lie smoothly. You couldn’t tell Harry the truth. Never. Harry just shakes his head, clenching his teeth.

You squeeze his hand, briefly, before going to tell Draco the news, or lack thereof. ———————————————————————

Time passes slowly when you’re waiting for someone to die. Four weeks had come and gone since Katie Bell went into a coma, and still no word from her. Madam Pomfrey says she’ll probably live, but is unsure when she’ll wake up.

The guilt is eating you and Draco alive. You’ve barely slept. Neither has Draco. He spends most of the time in the room of requirement, sending things back and forth to his mother. It comforts him, you think, to have a connection to her right now. It fills you with envy. You don’t even know your mother.

The only good thing about the last few weeks is that you’ve gotten closer to Harry. You spend all your spare time with him, chatting and messing about. As a result, your father is delighted with you, for the first time in many, many years. It’s your only consolation. A father’s pride, no matter how ill-gotten, was always worth having.

One evening, you’re sitting down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. The moon is bright above you, smiling down on you from above.

“It’s so strange,” you say suddenly, still staring up at the moon.

“The moon? I’d say it’s fairly routine,” Harry replies and you shove him playfully.

“I mean all the things we haven’t done, and all the things we have. I mean, I’ve watched people be murdered. I’ve tried to kill then myself. And yet, I’ve never been drunk. I’ve never been to a party. I’ve never had my first kiss,” you explain.

Harry stares at you for a moment. “We don’t get to be kids,” he answers you slowly. “We’re soldiers now.”

“In a war we never signed up for,” you add sadly. It scares you, moments like this. When you think about it too hard and it all gets a little too real. When you feel like you have so much too lose, and nothing to gain.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Harry asks, turning to face you now. You shake your head. He reaches out his hand, taking your chin. Slowly, like two stars colliding, his lips meet yours. It’s slow, soft. Hesitant. Then deeper, more urgent. Like you’re two people who are never going to get this time back. Which, maybe you are. You break away. “Harry we can’t do this. This can’t happen. It’ll never work.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were gifted with foresight,” Harry snaps back.

“Harry eventually we’ll have to choose sides. Sooner rather than later. And we both know we’ll end up on opposite sides of this war.”

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that you’ll choose him, in the end.”

You scoff, rolling up your sleeve to reveal your dark mark. “I’ve had this since I was thirteen Harry. I don’t get to choose.”

“Everyone gets to choose,” Harry counters, taking your arm, fingers ghosting over your dark mark, you flinch away from his touch. “You just have to be brave.”

“If we do this, I will betray you,” you warn. “I’ll never be on your side Harry.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says, capturing your lips with his and kissing you again. This time, you don’t pull away. You let him kiss you, run his fingers through your hair, hold you close.

Neither of you speak again that night, looking up at the moon. You could almost swear that it’s brighter. ———————————————————————

The next day, when you walk into the library, you see Hermione sitting amongst a pile of books. She looks aggravated, slamming a book shut with much more force than required.

Sitting down next to her, you offer her a smile. “Exams? Boys? What’s the issue, Granger?” You take out your books, setting out your study materials.

She gives you an exasperated look. “Nothing. I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Is that why you’re gripping your quill like you’re trying to crush it?” You ask skeptically.

“It’s Ron. I was under the impression that we would be going to Slughorn’s Christmas party together, and then he kissed Lavender Brown.”

You roll your eyes. “Boys, right?”

Hermione looks at you, smiling briefly. “From what I hear you have nothing to complain about in the that department.”

You blush. “I’m not so sure… it can never work with Harry and I, can it? It’s all too complicated.”

Hermione thinks for a moment. “I would say it could. You just have to be brave. Only you know where your heart truly lies.”

“Harry said the same thing.” What she’s saying makes sense, but you’re not brave. You’re no hero. You’re a coward playing a fool’s game.

Later that evening, Draco gestures you to follow him after dinner. He takes you to the room of requirement. The door swings open, revealing a cosy living room, with a roaring fireplace and a plush sofa. You sit down next to Draco. He looks terrible, pale and sickly.

“We have to figure out another way,” he says.

“Draco have you slept in the last month?” You ask with concern. He shakes his head. “Me neither.” You roll your sleeve up, and roll his up beside yours. Matching marks of children forced to grow up too fast.

“When I first got it I tried every spell there is to cover it. Nothing works,” you exhale. His eyes meet yours, they’re full of tears. He rolls his sleeve back down, as he gasps for breath.

“I want to tear it off. I want to peel the skin off my arm just to get rid of it. I want to burn it off. Scrub it until it fades. Chop my arm clean off,” he sobs. You grip him tightly. He’s crying into your shoulder and you’re crying into his.

“I’m sorry for all this Draco. All of this,” you gasp.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” you hug him closer. “We’ll find another way, okay? I’ll do it this time. You shouldn’t have to.”

Draco shakes his head. “I was chosen for this. I have to be the one to do it.”

An idea occurs to you. “Slughorn. He got Dumbledore a gift, but he keeps forgetting to give it to him. We could poison it,” you suggest.

“When am I going to do that?” Draco drawls.

“At Slughorn’s Christmas party!” You exclaim. It’s perfect. Another way you two could kill Dumbledore without having to be there.

“I’ll get some poison,” Draco says. “I saw you kiss Potter the other night. I don’t know what you see in that dung beetle.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m doing all this for my father Draco. There’s nothing more to it.”

Draco raises a single eyebrow. “You don’t have to lie to me. I think he’s an unintelligent idiot but if you like him I won’t snitch,” he says genuinely.

“Okay so maybe I like him,” you admit.

Draco gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen in your life. “Potter? Really? He hates me! He’s a Griffyndor! Ugh, what do you see in him?”

You stare at him in disbelief. “You said you wouldn’t care!”

“I said I wouldn’t snitch. Not that I wouldn’t judge. I am very much judging. My future wife likes Potter! My future wife kissed Potter!”

“Oh sorry, am I not up to your standards?”

“You are, Potter isn’t,” he says.

“Good thing nobody is asking you to go out with him then.”

“Bleeding Potter,” he mutters under his breath and you give him a half-hearted shove.

———————————————————————

It’s a Tuesday morning when Harry asks you to go to Slughorn’s Christmas party with him. Snow falls softly as you both walk around the castle together.

“So do you want to go to Slughorn’s party… you know, with me?” He asks awkwardly, and you smile back at him.

“I’d like that. But I thought you would be taking Granger, so I asked someone else,” you explain apologetically.

“Who?” Harry demands. “Not Malfoy, is it?”

You shake your head. “Blaise Zabini. I’ve went with him to the last few dinners so I asked him if he was taking me to the party.”

Harry looks severely unimpressed. “That tosser? You chose him over me!?”

You nod solemnly. “He’s really funny?” You offer but Harry only shakes his head.

“Funny like you want him to be your boyfriend funny?”

“Harry, don’t be jealous,” you nudge him playfully.

“I’m just asking a question!” He defends himself.

“Harry, I like you. I feel like that’s pretty obvious considering I’m throwing away my whole belief system by simply talking to you,” you comfort him, and with a moment of hesitation, you take his hand in yours.

He smiles awkwardly and squeezes your hand back. “I like you too.” The tip of his nose has gone red- either from embarrassment or the cold, which, you don’t know.

“Okay the hand holding was purely for comforting reasons we’re not going to be one of them couples who hold hands whilst walking,” you drop his hand. He stares, before laughing. “It restricts mobility!” You exclaim.

“You called us a couple,” he smiles broadly. You look away, embarrassed.

“You know what I meant.”

“Sure,” he nods, cheeky grin still on his face. You shove him away, crossing your arms in mock-offence. Harry just grins.

“Harry, you know loads of people in the order of the phoenix, right?” You ask suddenly.

Harry looks incredibly alarmed. “What’s that?” He says innocently.

“Oh come off it, my father has known about it for years. I was just wondering… were there any children that went missing. Like in the early 1980’s?”

“I- I don’t know,” Harry replies.

“Oh… okay,” you brush off your wave of sadness.

“Why?” Harry asks.

“I just wanted to know if maybe… if maybe I wasn’t my father’s daughter,” you sigh, kicking a stone. “The sorting hat told me that I should be in Hufflepuff the other day.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but, that doesn’t mean you’re not your father’s daughter. My godfather Sirius was a Gryffindor when his whole family were Slytherins.”

“I know. I was just wondering. I don’t even know who my mother is,” you murmur, stopping to hop up on a nearby wall.

“Voldemort never told you?” Harry asks.

You shake your head. “Anytime I ask he says it’s not important. There aren't many deatheaters that are women. I’ve looked at old photographs, and none of the women in the photo fit. They’re either too old or too young, or related to Draco.”

“Why couldn’t your mother be related to Draco?”

“Because I’m betrothed to him.”

Harry nods. “Why the sudden curiosity now?”

“I just want to know if she’s alive, I guess. If maybe I could have a mum.” You hold back tears. What was it with you and crying lately?

Harry puts his arm around you. “I never knew my mother either. I’m sure your mother loved you. Very much,” he says. You don’t respond, your voice would crack if you did.

Later that day, yous stop by the DADA classroom, intent on finding answers. Severus evidently has a free period as he’s sitting marking papers on his desk. He looks up when you walk in, motioning for you to come in.

“You knew my mother,” you say, as you sit on a desk, facing him.

Severus pauses. “The dark lord would not want you talking about this.”

“Is she alive?” You press.

“I cannot tell you anything.”

Sadness and anger start to build. “Tell me!”

Severus says nothing. It infuriates you further. Your breathing quickens and the air in the room goes stagnant. Suddenly, all the paintings in the room come crashing down. You bury your head in your it knees, embarrassed and angry.

Severus, comes around, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I would tell you if I could,” he whispers.

“Please just tell me if she’s alive,” you plead, looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes.

“No, she isn’t.”

He says nothing else. You slip away, rushing to your dorm. Missing all your classes for one day couldn’t hurt. A sort of numbness settles over you, and that’s it. Your mother is dead. You’ll never meet her.

She’ll never braid your hair or teach you how to do makeup. You’ll never hear her sing or tell you that boys are dumb. You don’t even know her name. Tears cloud your eyes as you lie down in your bed. ———————————————————————

The night of Slughorn’s party rolls around and you wear a red dress of Pansy’s. It’s short and low cut, leading to Blaise giving a low whistle when you walk over. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit, tightly fitted. Very handsome, to say the least.

“Hey sexy lady,” he says, taking your arm as you begin to walk towards the party.

“I thought it was dark lady,” you comment as you turn a corner.

“Even the dark lord’s daughter has got to mix it up sometimes. You look good,” he says as you walk into the party.

The room is charming, low banners creating a relaxing and beautiful atmosphere. A reporter snaps a photograph of you and Blaise as you walk in. Dragonflies cast tiny shadows as they zip about the air.

Blaise turns to you. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. This girl has ensnared my heart and she doesn’t even know my name,” he says apologetically, turning and making his way towards Luna Lovegood. Smiling softly, you move around the party, eyes scanning for Harry.

You find him tucked behind a curtain of tulle, talking with Granger. Deciding to give them a moment, you find Severus standing in the corner of the party, unmoving. He’s not speaking to anybody, nor does he look like he wants to be approached.

You ignore this, skipping over to him. “Enjoying the party?”

“Do I look like I am?” He deadpans.

“You look positively uninterested,” you reply and he gives you a glare.

“I have noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with Mr. Potter lately,” he says and now it’s your turn to glare at him.

“My father wishes for me to gain his trust, why can’t anyone understand that?” You groan. Severus simply raises an eyebrow in skepticism.

He begins to move toward Harry and you groan, thinking he’s going to say something stupid. Severus had always been protective of you. When Greyback had tried to claim you as his wife, Severus argued against him to your father, citing that an heir to your father’s kingdom should come from someone more dignified. That’s when Lucius Malfoy had stepped in, offering Draco as the perfect candidate. Hence, how you’re now betrothed to Draco.

You would forever be in his debt for that. Greyback was a vile, disgusting man who would have made your life miserable. At least Draco would respect you.

You see Harry and Severus talking and roll your eyes. Goodness knows what they were conversing about.

Then, you hear a clammer. Filch comes in, dragging a protesting Draco with him. Draco shoves him off.

“He said he was a member of your party. Caught him sneaking upstairs,” Filch says, almost proudly.

“I was gatecrashing, okay?!” Draco exclaims. Slughorn moves forward, presumably to give Draco a firm telling off but Severus interrupts him.

“I will deal with him,” he says, yanking Draco away from the party and down the corridor. Breathing a sigh of relief, you look around to find Harry again, only for him to have disappeared.

Searching aimlessly, Harry doesn’t appear until about two minutes later, when he comes in, looking deep in thought. Your heart rate spikes, what if he followed Draco and Severus?

Pasting in a smile, you link arms with him. “Penny for your thoughts?” You smile, leading him further into the party.

“Draco is up to something. Your father has put him up to it,” he says.

“Harry, Draco isn’t up to anything. You’ve berated me for not letting go of my old prejudices, how long will it be before you let go of yours?”

Harry doesn’t reply, instead he chooses to change the subject. “What were you talking to Snape about?”

“Oh we were just discussing you, actually.”

“Let me guess, he disapproves? Believes you should come nowhere near me? Or is he delighted that you’re so diligently following your father’s orders?”

You turn to him in surprise. “How did you-”

“What, know that your father wanted you to befriend me? It was fairly obvious, sweetheart. I’m just hoping that you’re doing this for the right reasons,” he says, thumb rubbing circles into your hand.

“Harry, will this ever work? Us, I mean. There’s a war coming, and we’re on two opposite sides. I admit we have a connection Harry, but is it enough to close the gaping chasm between us?”

“Chasm? Where?” Harry looks around in an exaggerated fashion. You shove him lightly and he gets more serious. “I believe we can work. You just need to believe in it,” he says.

Harry’s eyes stare into yours, so sincere. You want to believe him, you truly do. And why not? You’re at school. The war seems faraway in this castles’ grounds.

Hesitantly, you place a chaste kiss on Harry’s cheek. Harry laughs, pulling you into the corner of the party and kissing you properly. His mouth meets yours and it’s like fire, like two cliffs colliding.

He’s so warm you seem to melt into him. It feels like you’re one fluid being, together against the world. You grin against his mouth and start giggling. Harry gives you a funny look, but suddenly, you just can’t stop laughing.

“Is my kissing really that funny?” He demands.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m laughing. I just thought about how weird this is. You know like who would have thought a month or two ago that I would be kissing Harry Potter.”

“Me. I’ve been plotting on you since I saw you that first day on the train. I sat on your carriage on purpose because I thought you were pretty. And you looked sad.”

“I was going for menacing.”

“Your sad, ‘save me’ eyes weren’t exactly screaming ‘menacing’,” Harry laughs.

“I do not have sad, ‘save me’ eyes,” you protest but Harry merely gives you a look of disbelief.

“You so do. They’re always screaming at me. ‘Save me from my evil dad Harry!’” He says in a high pitched voice. You give him a dirty look but kiss him again anyway. He gladly reciprocates.

“I have an idea, come on,” Harry says, tugging you towards the exit. You take once look at Blaise, talking to Luna, and follow Harry quickly. Harry takes your hand and you both run towards the gryffindor common rooms.

“Wait right here,” he says, before saying the password and entering the tower through the portrait. The fat lady, as she’s so named, attempts to talk to you, mostly to question why a Slytherin student was so close to the Gryffindor common room. You ignore her.

Harry comes back down with his cloak, draping it around both of you. Sticking close to him, you let him lead you out of the castle, towards Hogsmeade.

“Couldn’t we have just used a passageway? Draco told me there’s a few that go to Hogsmeade.”

“We could, but then you wouldn’t have to stand so close to me for such a long time,” Harry grins and you scoff.

When you arrive, Harry leads you down a short alleyway, before you reach a shady looking pub. Harry slips the cloak off as you walk in. Dim chatter welcomes you at the door and you take a seat at one of the tables in the corner. Harry excuses himself, coming back a minute later with two tumblers of a smooth orange-brown liquid.

“What is it?” You ask, swirling your glass around.

“Firewhiskey. You said you’d never been drunk before. And we were at a party earlier. So all of the things you’ve said you’ve never done. Oh, and this is a date,” he adds. Your smile is genuine, nobody has ever done anything that thoughtful for you before.

Taking a generous gulp, you grimace. Harry laughs whilst sipping his. “Yeah it’s not very nice.”

“How did you get the bartender to serve you?” You question Harry, taking careful sips of your firewhiskey. It leaves a burning sensation in the back of your throat. It warms your belly. He makes a shushing motion, as if how he procured your drinks was just some big secret.

After three, you start to feel a little looser. More relaxed. You lean against Harry, he’s so warm, as usual.

“Harry sometimes I want to find a charm to smooth your hair. It sticks up in ten different directions,” you admit.

Harry laughs. “Your eyes, they’re always so sad. It makes me sad. Sometimes I just want to whisk you away. You think you’re a bad person but you’re not.”

“Stop making me sad Harry and go get us more drinks.”

After seven drinks you’re definitely drunk. You feel like you’re watching everything that’s going on through a lens, like a moving picture. When Harry kisses you, it’s all heat and warmth. Your throat is still burning from the drinks.

He leaves kisses down your neck, you run your hands through his hair. He stops after a minute, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Why’d you stop?” You mutter against him.

“Because I want you to remember all of our kisses.”

———————————————————————

The next day, you’re horribly hungover, a terrible headache plagues you as you make your way down to the common room. Draco looks like death.

“Have fun last night?” He drawls, eyes staring you down in accusation.

“Am I that transparent?” You sigh, clutching your pounding head.

“The poison is in place. Whilst you were having fun with Potter I was having a lovely conversation with Snape. Did you know my mother asked him to help me?”

You nod slowly. “He mentioned it at the start of the year, I presumed you knew.”

“I can’t let him do this for us. It would only make the dark lord even more angry at my family.” He plays with the ring on his finger- the Malfoy family ring.

“I think he’ll be more angry at me by the end of all of this. I’m falling in love with Harry Potter,” you groan.

Draco gives you a look of pure disgust. “Of all boys available to you, you choose Potter? I saw you talking to Zabini and hoped you had upped your standards.”

“He’s nice,” you defend Harry. “He makes me feel like a person and not…”

“A dark witch?”

“Exactly. I feel like I can be someone around him. Be myself, maybe.”

“I get that. Hey, are you coming home for Christmas?”

“Unfortunately.” You and your father had been living at Malfoy Manor for the last few months, much to your own dismay. That place is cold, and dark. You’d think with all the money the Malfoys have they could afford to turn the heater and the lights on.

“Potter hasn’t invited you to stay with him then?”

“I think he goes to the Weasleys. And I don’t think I’d be welcome there.”

“My home is far nicer than Weaslebee’s.”

You hum in disagreement. Draco gives you a glare. “I’ve a feeling my father might want us to start sharing a room.”

Draco nods, looking thoroughly displeased. “You’ll just have to sleep on the floor.”

“I’m the girl!”

“It’s my room!”

“You are so not getting a Christmas present from me.”

“What? Why?” Draco almost pouts.

“Give me the bed and maybe I’ll let you have it.”

“You’ve already bought me one?” He looks excited.

“You’re like a dog when they hear the word treat.” With this statement, Draco turns away, sulking. You sigh, relenting. “I bought you a watch. A nice one.”

He smiles happily. “I got you a dress, so you wouldn’t have to keep borrowing Pansys anytime you needed one.”

You’d also gotten Draco a blonde hair dye that wasn’t quite as icy as his current look was, but decided to leave that as a surprise.

———————————————————————

The time came to exchange gifts with Harry. You hadn’t had the faintest idea of what to get him, having to consult both Hermione and Pansy on gifts that he might like. (Hermione said some nice socks, Pansy said something much more lewd.)

In the end, you had gotten him a pair of Quidditch gloves that you had heard had excellent grip and warmth. Anytime there was a match on you always saw him rubbing his hands to try and warm them, so you thought this might be a nice present.

You’re sitting on a bench in the courtyard when you procure the present and give it to him. It’s nicely wrapped in a red box with a yellow bow on top (Gryffindor colours, of course). Harry smiles when he opens it.

“I needed a new pair of these,” he grins as he tries them on, flexing his fingers to get a feel for them. “Thanks.”

“I heard they’re good, I have the receipt if you need to exchange them.” Harry shakes his head at this.

He then pulls a small black box from his pocket. He opens it up to present a necklace. It’s beautiful, delicate and silver. It’s got a green emerald in the middle. It’s perfect. It’s so you.

“Harry it’s perfect,” you thank him, wrapping your arms around him. He hugs you back, warmth from his arms heating up your freezing body.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” Harry asks. “Because I was going to ask you to come to the Weasley’s. I go there every year and Ron said that Mr Weasley would be fine with it.”

You hesitate. “Really? I didn’t think the Weasleys would want me in their home,” you explain.

Harry pauses, and that’s all you need to know. “Well, Mrs Weasley wasn’t just as accepting. Neither is Ron. Or the rest of the family. In fact, Mr Weasley only said yes because I sorta begged him.”

Smiling sadly, you take Harry’s hand. “I would have loved to Harry, but I wouldn’t want to be where I’m not wanted.”

He frowns. “I just thought that you had probably never had a Christmas with a proper family. When I first went to the Weasley’s it was like a complete 180 turn from my usual Christmases.”

“Harry that’s so thoughtful. I’m sorry that I can’t go. You’re right, we don’t do anything for Christmas. Severus and I buy each other gifts. That’s pretty much it.”

“It still freaks me out that you call him Severus. And claim that he’s human.”

“He is! He’s done so much for me I can’t even begin to repay him.”

“Like what?” Harry seems dubious.

“He’s the reason I’m betrothed to Draco. When I was about twelve, Fenrir Greyback asked my father if he could marry me. Or just have me in his bed for a night or two. He’s vile, Greyback. Severus argued against him. See, the only reason my father would marry me to someone is to have another heir. Severus argued that an heir should come from a man more dignified than Greyback. That’s when Lucius offered Draco. My father agreed. If it wasn’t for Severus, I would already be married to a man twice my age.”

Harry looks shocked. “Your father would have let Greyback- he would have let him…”

You nod. Harry looks furious, fists clenched. “My father, if you haven’t noticed, doesn’t care very much about me.”

That, was the understatement of the century.

Notes: thank you so much for reading! I’m trying to incorporate sassy Harry but it’s hard because I am so not sarcastic.

Taglist:@reader-w-an-attitude @silentz50 @cindvyy7512 @selenewowww @rose-latte-zz @tiredslepz

(if anyone wants added or removed lmk!)

Next chapter here!

That’s why you’re here. In the astronomy tower well after curfew with Harry. The stars beckon at you from above, and you smile up at them. Harry has given you his scarf again. You would refuse but it was simply too cosy.

“Tell me something about yourself. Something that nobody else knows,” Harry says, coming up beside you and resting his arms on the metal bars.

“I’m an animagus,” you say, still staring out at the stars. You don’t know why you told him. Nobody else knew, but a night like this, the sky clear and the stars bright, begged for honesty.

Harry stares at you for a moment. “What kind?” He asks.

“Magpie,” you reply, staring down at your hands. Harry hums in response. You love being an animagus. You first transformed as a means of escape. When you were a bird you were free. You could fly wherever you want. You would love to fly on a cool, clear night like this.

“So do you have a liking for shiny things?” Harry laughs.

“Well I wouldn’t refuse a pair of diamond earrings,” you reply. That was an understatement. Jewellery was your thing. You were always clad in it from head to toe. Earrings, bracelets, anklets, necklaces, the occasional tiara.

“My father was a bully,” Harry admits, unable to look at you. You turn to face him. There’s tears welling in his eyes. “I haven’t been able to tell anyone.”

“It doesn’t mean he was a bad person,” you reply. “There’s lots of good people who have done things they’re not proud of in their past,” you say, thinking of Draco, or even yourself. You’ve done countless things you’re not proud of. Though, you suppose, you are a bad person.

Harry nods. “He was a good person. He did good things. Just that I’ve been that kid. The one who’s bullied and friendless. It’s not nice,” Harry responds. You reject the urge to comfort him. Maybe this whole hug thing is contagious.

He turns to you, obviously in need of distraction. “Could you change into a magpie now?” He asks, eyes looking pleadingly into yours. He looks so stricken that you nod. Focusing for a moment, you shift from human to animal.

Harry stares at you in wonderment. You let out a little squawk, hopping closer to him on the railing of the astronomy tower. Hesitantly, he reaches out a hand and strokes your feathers. You chirp involuntarily. You’ve never been petted as a bird before. Harry laughs and scratches under your chin. You bite his finger with your beak playfully, before letting go and transforming back.

“That’s so cool,” Harry says, pulling out a bar of chocolate. You eye it greedily. Chocolate is your next favourite thing next to jewellery. Harry takes a bite and you try. You really do try to act nonchalant and not like you’re waiting for him to offer you a piece. He must see your hopeful eyes because he sighs and breaks you off a bit.

Sighing happily, you bite down on the chocolate. “Someone told me once that chocolate cures all problems,” you grin.

“You would get along well with Lupin,” Harry laughs as you savour the chocolate. He ends up handing you the rest of the bar and you almost squeal in delight. Almost. Chocolate was a rare treat back at home, your father didn’t have much time for sugary delights. The only time you ever got it was when Severus snuck it to you. It was your secret.

You decide to share this with Harry, since he gave you the chocolate. “The only time I ever got chocolate back home is when Severus snuck it to me,” you tell him in between bites.

He raises his eyebrows. “Severus as in Snape? No, see I don’t think he believes in joy,” he says sceptically.

“Shut up! He’s like an uncle to me. More than that, he’s practically a father to me,” you huff. You weren’t going to let anyone talk bad about the only person that has ever been nice to you.

Harry raises his hands in apology, but it’s too late. His opinion on Severus only reminded you of how different you are. What were you doing, talking to Harry Potter? You two could never be friends. You were too different. He was your father’s number one enemy.

You clear your throat. “I best be off. Don’t want Filch coming up here and giving us another detention.” You don’t wait for him to reply, moving off before he can even say goodbye. Harry stares at your back until you’re out of sight, slipping his invisibility cloak on.

The next day, Dumbledore calls you into his office. The old man isn’t there when you walk in, so you stand awkwardly and wait.

“I never sorted you,” a voice says. You turn to see the sorting hat, speaking to you from its perch on a shelf. “I remember your father. I didn’t even need to go near him to sort him into Slytherin.”

“I doubt you would need to come near me either to know where I belong,” you say in boredom, looking around the office.

“You’re right, but not in the way you think. I can see that you’re a Hufflepuff from here,” the hat says and you look at it in outrage. Before you can reply, Dumbledore walks in.

“Ah, Miss Riddle,” he says, moving over to the other side of the desk.

“Sir,” you reply, sitting down on the chair Dumbledore motioned for you to take.

“I wanted to make you aware, Miss Riddle that you are more than welcome at Hogwarts. Though I do hope you’re not encouraging any attacks muggleborn students,” he raises an eyebrow. You shake your head.

“I do not believe you are like your father Miss Riddle. I want you to really try here. Belong here. I think that this school can do something for you. Besides teach you, of course.”

Your eyes threaten to well up. Dumbledore was here, saying that he believed that you were a good person, and you know that Draco had been ordered to murder him. You barely manage to nod, nearly jumping off your seat to escape the guilt wracking you.

“Oh, and Miss Riddle?” Dumbledore says and you turn briefly. “Help will always be given at Hogwarts, for those who ask for it.”

You nearly trip down the steps in your bid to escape.

——————————————————————— The next week goes by without incident. You refuse to meet Harry again, citing that you were too busy every time he asked. He looked hurt, but you ignored it. Whatever starts of a friendship you may have had have been severely quashed. When Slughorn inquires, you act as if you’re great friends with Harry and he nods approvingly.

The so-called slugclub’s first meeting was a dinner party. Blaise Zabini, one of Draco’s friends, and another believer in your father, offers to accompany you, saying as he was invited too. Draco was less than pleased with his lack of an invite.

You picked one of your nicer dresses for the occasion, saying as Zabini was wearing a suit, although you have to wear long gloves to conceal your dark mark. Zabini meets you in the common room, offering you an arm.

“My dark lady,” he says, taking your arm and starting to walk down the hall.

“Dark lady?” You ask, as you turn towards the potions classroom.

“You know, you’re the dark lord’s daughter. You’re the dark lady,” he explains and you laugh as you walk through the doors. The potions classroom has been cleared of the desks, instead giving the persona of a quiet, intimate dining room.

Harry looks up as you walk in, laughing on Blaise’s arm. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes locked on yours as you take your seat across from him.

Dinner is dreadfully dull. Slughorn talks mostly about people’s parents and their accomplishments. Yours, for obvious reasons, is avoided, though you know that your father was one of Slughorns’s favourite students. Blaise whispers in your ear throughout it all, providing some well-needed comedic relief. He’s funny, and you find yourself enjoying his company. Unlike the others in Slytherin, he’s not afraid to say it like it is. He isn’t scared of you.

Harry’s eyes bore into yours throughout it all. He looks… angry? Murderous? He doesn’t even notice when Cormac McLaggen stares down Hermione from across the table, making rather obvious flirtatious gestures. Hermione looks uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact with McLaggen as much as possible. It ticks you off.

Taking your wand out of your pocket, you send a quick hex at Cormac. One that makes your eyes burn. He quickly stops his flirtations and you grin. Hermione catches your eyes from across the table and she offers you a smile in thanks.

At the end of the night you exit as quickly as possible. Blaise brings you to the stairs of the girls’ dormitories. “Look,” he says with a grin. “I know you and Draco are betrothed but if you ever need a night off, you know where to find me,” he winks. “And I’m not just saying that because you’ll likely be my future boss, I’m saying that because damn, that ass is fine.” He saunters off, leaving you gaping in his wake. After he leaves you burst into a genuine fit of laughter. Nobody had ever spoken to you like that before. It was refreshing, and, who knows, you might take him up on his offer.

You’re smiling when you reach your dormitory. Actually smiling. Then, you see the letter sitting on your desk. Pansy jumps up off her bed to explain.

“I was in the owlery and I just thought I would bring you any letters you had,” she explains. You nod slowly. You know who it’s from. You can’t open it here, in front of Pansy. You know you’ll likely end up crying.

Managing to avoid Filch is hard, but Draco had showed you a passage that led outside of the castle. Stopping by a tree, you sit at its base and reluctantly open the letter.

My only daughter,

I trust that your studies are going well. I can only assume that Draco has told you about the special objective I have given him. Now, here’s yours:

I would like you to help Draco. Encourage him, give him the tools he needs. Do it for him, if you must. Meanwhile, I have another task for you.

Keep an eye on Potter. If you can, befriend him. I want all information I can get on him.

I sincerely hope you will not fail me again.

Tears fill your eyes. You were going to have to kill him. Dumbledore. The eccentric old man that so far had shown you nothing but kindness. Draco wouldn’t be able to do it, and you couldn’t fail your father again. Your breath quickens. It’s happening again.

Your emotions swirl in a terrifying tornado and you swear you can’t breathe. Looking down, you see the grass around you has started to decay. Blackening as if touched by death itself. The leaves on the tree start to fall, crumpled and crisp. You’re inhaling so quickly and yet your lungs are burning for air.

Then, a figure appears from around the tree and kneels down in front of you. It’s Harry. His green eyes meet yours.

“Are you okay?” He asks. You shake your head, unable to respond. “Okay just breathe. Look at me. Just look at me.” He places your hand on his chest. “Breathe in with me, that’s it. Now out,” he encourages you. Slowly, over the period of a few minutes, the panic subsides.

“I lied,” you confess, staring at the black spot on the grass; a mark of your destruction. Harry looks confused. “I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve tried. Ten times I’ve tried. But you have to really mean it. And I don’t. I can’t,” you gasp, burying your head in your knees. Harry pauses for a moment before gently lifting your chin up.

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says, smiling softly.

You shake your head. “Tell that to my dad. He’s told everyone that I’ve killed ten people. The whole of Slytherin believes that I kill muggles and mudbloods alike. But I can’t. It’s their eyes. They look me in the eyes and I can’t,” you cry, burying your head in Harry’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“You’re not a bad person. You’re just a good person that had things have happened to,” he says.

“How could I be good Harry?” You ask numbly, gesturing to the grass at your feet. “I destroy everything I touch.”

Harry laughs. “I blew up my aunt once. Like a balloon. She flew all the way to Sheffield,” he admits and despite yourself, you begin to laugh too.

“I threw a painting at Lucius Malfoy once,” you giggle and Harry laughs too. Then, he becomes serious, pensive.

“Honestly I think I’m more evil than you,” he mutters under his breath and you draw your eyebrows together in confusion. “Last year. I was a mess. I snapped at all my friends, pushed people away. I still feel that urge sometimes. Like nobody understands.”

“You’ve pretty much just described me everyday. Except… I have no friends,” you say, staring out into the darkness.

“What about Draco?” Harry asks. He stares intently at you, waiting for a reply.

“He’s my future I suppose. We’ve become friends in recent times,” you shrug. Harry nods.

“So you don’t love him?” He confirms and you nod. He smiles then. A real, genuine smile that gives you butterflies for reasons you don’t want to analyse. “When are you set to marry him?”

“I don’t know. When my father wants me to I suppose. Although I imagine it’ll be after the war. He wants to continue his legacy, his bloodline.” You shudder at the thought. You didn’t want to bring children into this world. A world of pain and suffering. “I don’t want children. I don’t want him to hurt them the way he hurt me.” You twiddle with the ring on your finger. Your engagement ring. As typical of the Malfoy family, the ring has a clear cut, rather large diamond.

“He hurt you?” Harry takes your hand, stopping your motion.

“Punishment in my house was a little unorthodox.”

Harry nods understandingly. “Cruciatus curse?” He asks and you nod.

“Among other things.”

“He did that to me once. Two years ago,” he murmurs, thumb gliding over your fingers in a soothing motion. You don’t know what possesses you, but you hug him. He’s surprised, to say the least, before he hugs you back fiercely.

Meow! You hear a cat nearby. It’s Mrs Norris. Shit. Harry doesn’t seem panicked. “How are we going to get back?” You say. You can’t turn into a bird. The blasted cat would eat you before you could even set off the ground.

Harry laughs and pulls out a cloak. Before you can protest, he covers you in it. You attempt to push him off but he places a hand over your mouth as Filch comes from around the corner. “Invisibility cloak,” he whispers right next to your ear. You shiver at the heat of his breath.

Together, you sneak past Filch, and he leads you down to the dungeons. At the door to your house he mutters a quick goodbye. You slide out from under the cloak. ———————————————————————

Three weeks come and go. You resume your meetings with Harry. Not because your father asked you to, but because you genuinely enjoy his company. However, you can’t live in this blissful world for long. Real life knocks at the door on a Monday evening, whenever Draco pulls you into an empty broom cupboard.

“Draco I know we have to convince people that we’re this power couple but I think you’re taking it too far,” you joke. Draco doesn’t laugh. He’s pale, well, paler than usual.

“How am I going to do this? I can’t get caught. My father’s already in prison, my mum, she can’t lose me too. We’re not currently in the dark lord’s favour. I need to do this,” He says, desperate. His eyes are lined with dark circles. He looks like he’s being hunted. A man haunted. He pulls up his sleeve, revealing his dark mark. You show him yours. Matching symbols of child soldiers. Tainted by war.

“We get someone else to do it for us,” you whisper, an idea forming in your head. “We use the imperius curse. Make someone Dumbledore trusts deliver him a poison of some kind.”

Draco nods. “That’s good. Yeah. We’ll do it this weekend.”

Sighing, you nod your head. How could you do this? Kill a man. A kindly old man. One who said he believes in you. One who trusts you. Once again, you find yourself wishing that you weren’t your father’s daughter. A futile hope.

“I know,” Draco says. “I know.” You both stand there for a moment, fighting your own consciences, before you leave.

Tears blur your eyes as you make your way to potions. Potions is not what you need right now. You need Severus to tell you it’s all going to be okay. Or Harry for to tell you that you’re a good person. Anything but another mundane potions lesson.

Hermione smiles at you as you sit down. “Thanks for last night,” he says. “McLaggen really deserved that huh?”

You don’t know why you do it, truly you don’t, but next thing you know you’re snapping at her. “We’re not friends. Mudblood.” Hermione looks shocked. It almost hurts you to see the look of contempt on her face. You deserve that.

The look Harry gives you is worse. Disgust plain as day, crosses his features. You dip your head, ignoring everyone for the rest of the class. On the way out, Harry grabs your arm.

“What’s with you and calling Hermione that horrid name?” He demands. He’s angry. Cross.

“It’s just a word. It’s not a big deal,” you shrug.

“How would you like it if I called you a deatheater every time I saw you?” He crosses his arms, patiently waiting for an answer.

“I would say it’s true,” you shrug indifferently.

“But would you like it?” He presses. You think about it, before shaking your head. “Exactly. Now how do you think Hermione feels every time someone calls her that?”

“Oh. What am I supposed to call her instead?” You ask, confused. Harry looks at you for a moment as if to say are you serious? He takes a deep breath before explaining.

“Her name? Or if you have to, you say she’s muggleborn,” he elaborates and you nod slowly.

“Thanks. I’ll try that,” you offer.

Harry stares at you like you’re a lunatic, before shaking his head in disbelief. You see Hermione walking towards the library. Giving Harry a quick thumbs up, you follow her. She stares at you in disgust as you approach her.

“What do you want?” She snaps, opening up a heavy tome.

You sit down in front of her. “I’m sorry for calling you a mudblood. I understand now why that might not be a nice thing to do. I won’t call you it again,” you attempt a smile. “I’m not used to having to care for other people’s feelings,” you offer.

Hermione stares at you for a beat. “As long as you never call me that ever again. Then I forgive you,” she says before burying her head back in her book.

“I’d like it if we could be friends,” you add hopefully. Harry adores this girl and, maybe you could do.

“Maybe,” is the best Hermione could offer you. “Harry likes you. I distrust you, but Harry is generally a good judge of character.” She gives you a half smile. It’s something. You decide to leave her to her studies for now.

Deciding to visit Severus a visit, you know on the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. It’s empty of everyone but Severus, sitting at his desk. You knock on the door and walk in as he looks up.

“How are you settling in?” He asks, moving to sit on the other side of his desk.

“Okay. I’m top of most of my classes. Everything but potions,” you scowl.

Severus raises an eyebrow. “I would have thought that would be your best. Unless perhaps my teaching has been subpar.”

“No, it’s my partner. She won’t listen when I tell her that the textbook isn’t always right,” you groan.

Severus hums. “I imagine Draco has told you about his mission,” he moves onto a more serious topic.

“I have to help him.”

“So do I,” he says. He looks full of pain, regret.

“I don’t know if I can do it Sev,” you start crying, unspilled tears from earlier now overflowing. He doesn’t hesitate, gripping you tightly in a firm hug.

“I don’t know if I can either,” he says. ———————————————————————

Draco’s dormitory is practically empty when you slip into it late on Friday evening. The other boys must be still at dinner. Knowing Crabbe and Goyle, they were gorging their faces right about now.

Draco looks up as you enter. He looks betrayed. “Why have you been hanging out with Potter!?” He demands, eyes accusatory.

Your reply is smooth. “My father wants me to befriend him. It’s hardly like your going to get much information out of him, with this petty feud,” you reprimand him, slipping back into your usual cold persona.

“You looked more than friendly to me,” Draco retorts. “If we’re to act like a power couple then you can’t go cosying up to the enemy at any given opportunity,” he snaps.

“Draco come off it. I’m doing the dark lord’s bidding. I apologise if that hurts your ego.”

Draco backs down. “I’m sorry. I’m just tense. I got what we need. I just… have to go through with it now.” He takes out a package, opening it up to reveal a necklace. You can sense the dark magic in it from here.

“I’m sorry too. And I’m sorry that my father’s given you this task. It’s crazy isn’t it? I mean, we’re just kids.”

“Not anymore,” Draco says, eyes staring somewhere faraway, his childhood, perhaps.

“How did you get it?” You ask in wonder. It’s a very powerful charm, on this beautiful piece of jewellery.

“Vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement. Bellatrix and my mother have the other of the set at Borgin and Burkes,” he explains.

You scoff. “I hate her.” You roll your eyes.

Draco looks at you, confused. “My mother is a-”

“Not your mother. Bellatrix,” you correct him and he nods. “She’s a crazy bitch.”

Draco nods. “She’s my aunt but Merlin, she’s a nightmare! But anyway, back to the plan. I’ll curse a random student to bring this to Dumbledore. The only problem is… Potter. He’s onto me.”

“I’ll take care of that. Also… have you bleached your hair? It’s more… reflective than normal,” you gesture vaguely towards his head. He simply gives you a dirty look.

Later, you find Harry, pulling him aside towards a more empty section of the hall. “You’re taking me to the Hogsmeade tomorrow,” you declare with a grin. Harry looks confused but nods.

“Okay?” He says. You just smile and walk away, leaving him staring and confused.

———————————————————————

The next morning, you get up to see Pansy applying what you now know is makeup. You stretch, rolling out of bed like a lazy cat.

“Pansy,” you say to her. “Could you maybe lend me some of that?” You ask, motioning to the table full of different concoctions.

“Of course. You don’t have any?” She asks curiously. You shake your head, embarrassed. Tentatively, you step over and sit down in front of the mirror, trying (and failing) to put some on. You pick up a tube, and find a brightly coloured stick inside. With hesitation, you start to apply it to your eyelids. Pansy starts laughing and you look at her, helpless.

“I can help if you want?” She offers and you accept graciously. She starts applying powders and solutions to your face, explaining what she’s doing as she goes along. As she explains, she becomes more relaxed, speaking to you in a casual manner rather than her usual uptight tone in your presence.

“Why are you wearing makeup anyway?” She asks.

“I’m going to Hogsmeade… with Harry Potter,” you add, hoping that your makeup is covering what you’re sure is a heavy blush.

“Is it a date?” Pansy presses, with a barely concealed grin.

“My father wants me to get close to him. It’s nothing more than that,” you leave no room for questioning.

Pansy ignored your tone. “You know, it would be okay if it was more than that,” she says. At your confused look she shrugs. “I’m just saying. You like who you like.”

You smile at her. “Thanks, Pansy.” She gives you a pat on the back.

“All done. You look beautiful. I’d even consider taking you on myself,” she gives you a nudge and you laugh. Looking at yourself in the mirror, it’s true. The makeup has just accentuated your already-existing features, enhancing your beauty.

You nearly skip down the stairs of joy and then you catch Draco. Haunted and tired as he is. He nods at you, as you leave the common room. Harry’s waiting for you, hands in his pockets. He looks up when he sees you, a wide grin on his face.

“You look, great,” he says awkwardly after a pause.

You just smile in response, taking his arm and starting to walk down to Hogsmeade. Harry chats along the way, telling you rather useless things about Quidditch matches and tryouts. You listen intently throughout it all. He’s cute like this. When he’s clearly talking about something that he’s passionate about.

When you get to the three broomsticks, Harry orders a butterbeer for you and you both sit down in one of the booths in the corner. Draco walks in, and you give him the tinsiest nod. He moves further into the bar, disappearing from your sight.

“Hermione told me you apologised to her,” Harry says, taking a sip of his butterbeer.

“Yeah. I suppose it was the right thing to do,” you shrug, playing with your necklace.

“I appreciate it. You trying to let go of your prejudices,” he comments, fingers sliding over to yours. He gives your hand a brief squeeze.

“Hmm, I’m not so sure about that, I’m still wary of you,” you joke and Harry lets out a quiet laugh. “It’s weird. Being around you. I don’t have to pretend to be cold and confident,” you say.

“What do you mean?”

“When I’m talking to anyone from Slytherin, bar Draco, I have to be cold. Calculating. Confident. I need to be who they think I’ll be.”

“I feel like that sometimes. That I have to be the chosen one. I have to know it all, and be confident. Like I could defeat Voldemort.”

“Well I promise to just be me when I’m with you,” you add, and Harry’s hand squeezes yours again.

“Me too.”

After your butterbeer, you head further into Hogsmeade. Harry stops outside a brightly coloured shop. Looking in, you can see sweets and chocolates galore. There’s a sign above the shop that says “Honeydukes.”

“I thought you would like it in here,” Harry smiles as you stare, open mouthed. The tiny amounts of chocolate Severus snuck you was nothing compared to this. Rows upon rows of chocolate upon delicate shelves.

You hesitate. “I didn’t bring any money.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “You know, most establishments do expect you to pay for their goods.”

Once again, you pray that the makeup covers the flush of your face. “Pansy said that if you’re going out anywhere with a boy that you should never bring your purse,” you explain with a hint of embarrassment.

Harry laughs. “I’m an orphan, and you expect me to pay for you?”

You grin, shrugging a little. “A rich orphan, according to Pansy.”

Harry shakes his head, muttering under his breath, something about girls and double standards. Nevertheless, he buys you two bars of a rather expensive chocolate. One has nuts and is made with Dragon tears and the other looks deliciously smooth and creamy.

“Thank you,” you say to Harry, before pausing briefly, and kissing his cheek.

Harry turns bright red. “Another one of Pansy’s tricks?”

“No actually, what she had suggested would be far more… vulgar?” You reply with a laugh. Harry flushes and looks away.

Snow falls on you as you both make your way back to Hogwarts. Harry’s cheeks and nose have turned red from the cold. You’re both chatting idly, until you hear a scream up ahead.

A girl is lifted violently into the air, as if by an invisible force. She tries to scream, but no sound will come out. Harry goes to run forward but you grab his arm. You see the necklace, winking at you from its position in the snow. She must have touched it.

The girl drops with a thud.

Notes: Hey I am so loving writing this, I really want to explore Draco’s situation more. Lmk if you want added to the taglist!

Chapter 3!

masterlist! (I also write for st)

It doesn’t work. The door slides open, and you turn to glare in annoyance to whoever has dared open your door, only to pause at the sight of who it is. Green eyes meet yours and your breath catches. It’s Harry Potter. The reason you’re here.

You grew up under your father’s instruction, learning from the best about potions, enchantments, charms and dark magic. This is your first year attending Hogwarts. Your father needed eyes on the ground. Eyes on Harry. This was your first solo mission as a deatheater. You couldn’t fail your father again.

Harry gives you an awkward wave and sits down. He clearly has no idea who you are. “Harry Potter,” he extends his hand for you to shake. You stare at it, unmoving. You wait for a second, then tell him your name. You see his eyes widen, you can see the dots connecting in his head.

“Riddle?” He stammers, eyes boring into yours. You nod, a slow, sinister smile gracing your face. You wait for the disgust. The fear. The anger and outrage. Harry’s face remains blank. You almost frown. You expected fear, anger, any myriad of emotions. He looks… curious? Indifferent? Not at all what you had hoped for.

“I didn’t know Voldemort had a daughter,” he comments, looking out the window at the moving Scottish countryside. You almost gasp. You never heard anyone refer to your father as Voldemort. It was always “my lord” or, for those who feared him, “he-who-must-not-be-named.”

Harry senses your confusion and shrugs. “A friend once told me that fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself,” he smiles at some fond memory and you feel a tinge of jealousy. You had never had a friend. The closest thing you had was Draco, whom you were in a betrothal with. You spoke very occasionally, mostly over the summer when he wasn’t at school. Other than that, your contact was limited to that of house elves and your father. The odd deatheater. You brush the thought aside instantly, how could you be jealous of him?

“Your friend sounds smart,” you admit begrudgingly. The sentiment made sense even though you didn’t like the disrespect towards your father.

“My friend Hermione, she’s a genius,” he smiles fondly.

You sneer. Draco had told you about Hermione. “Filthy mudblood,” you mutter, turning to stare out the window.

Harry’s face hardens instantly. “Don’t ever call her that again,” he commands and you laugh at his seriousness. “I’m serious. You call her, or any one else for that matter, that name again and I’ll hex you into next year.” His green eyes bore into yours ferociously.

You shrug indifferently. “I’d like to see you try.” You smirk again. You’re excellent at all sorts of hexes and charms. This scrawny boy wouldn’t stand a chance. Harry doesn’t comment, choosing instead to stare at his own hands. You notice his fingernails are short and rough- evidence from anxious moments spent biting them.

You spend the rest of the journey in silence. You wonder where Harry’s “friends” are now. When the train stops you get out and follow the general crowd until you see the thestrals. You’ve always liked thestrals. Smiling softly, you go to gently stroke its neck. It huffs happily. Animals have always been nicer to you than people have. Your pet owl Athena would be waiting for you in your room.

You hear footsteps behind you. It’s Harry, again. “You can see them too?” He whispers. You nod. Of course you’ve seen someone die. You’re a deatheater. You’ve seen your father and his followers kill countless people.

“The first time I saw someone die I was 6 years old,” you continue stroking the thestral’s neck. You remember it like it was yesterday. Your father called you in. He said he wanted you to finally grow up. He made you watch as he killed a wizard who had defied him. Disobedience was not something that was accepted amongst deatheaters.

“I watched Cedric Diggory die in fourth year. Then my godfather,” Harry admits, moving around to the side of the cart. He looks sad, pensive. Eyes staring into a different time, a different place.

“Why are you being nice to me?” You ask. Draco had told you about how Harry had treated him from first year because of his background and yours was much, much worse.

“I’ve been told that I judge people too harshly,” he says, stepping onto the cart. Begrudgingly, you get on with him. If he thought that you were going to spill all your feelings because he didn’t immediately hate you, he was deeply mistaken. “I know what it’s like to be treated differently because of where you came from,” he adds.

You don’t speak to him again. In fact, you don’t even look at him. Once you get off the cart you lose him in the crowd of people. Draco finds his way to you, blonde hair reflecting the moonlight. You nearly giggle at the amount of girls staring at him.

“My father told me you’d be here. I didn’t believe him,” he laughs softly to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets. Draco had always been kind to you, not treating you like you owed him something, like most boys in his position probably would.

You turn to him. “My father wanted eyes on the ground,” you shrug casually. Walking into the school, and then the great hall, Draco guides you to sit down with the rest of the Slytherin house. They stare in awe at you, a few bow their heads out of respect. You smile- this was the reception you wanted.

You sit down beside Draco and he takes your hand in his for everyone to see- a show, you know. You clasp his hand tightly. You need to present as a united front. It’ll be easier to take charge, make this school yours if you have Draco to help you.

A girl sitting across from you smiles widely. “My name’s Pansy,” she says. “I’ll hopefully be joining your ranks soon,” she says proudly. You nod, satisfied. A few other students around you murmur their agreements.

You keep quiet the majority of the dinner, deciding to exude a silent confidence instead. You want everyone to believe that you’re in charge from the get go. It’s working, the majority of them almost fall over themselves, trying to impress you. They overuse the word mudblood in a bid to show you how they align with your values. You just nod through it all, whispering to Draco occasionally, cementing the idea that he’s your right hand man. You’re acting so serious about all this you almost giggle. Then you imagine Draco in a muggle soldiers uniform, as a second in command and actually you let out a chuckle.

Thankfully, nobody hears as the chatter envelopes the sound. Also thankfully, you’re not made to go under the sorting hat. Nobody doubts that you belong in Slytherin. The rest of dinner passes in a blur. Dumbledore gives a speech, the first years are sorted, and everyone tucks into their dinner.

Draco is staring strangely at the old headmaster, and you turn to look at him quizzically. He motions that he’ll tell you later, and you nod. Draco holds your hand the whole way down to the dungeons, where you part as you head for the girls’ dorms.

The girl Pansy comes back over to you. “We’re rooming together,” she says, guiding you to a room further up the stairs. She opens the door to reveal a two-bedroom dorm, with four poster beds and a big dresser. “Snape made sure you got the biggest room with the smallest number of people,” she explains. You smile. Severus has been like an uncle to you growing up. Over his summers he taught you everything there is to know about potions.

“Hey so I was wondering…” Pansy says, flopping down onto her bed. “Could you put in a good word for me. With your father, I mean. It would make my parents so proud if I could get in early,” she smiles hopefully and you nod. You know what it’s like to be under the overbearing pressure of pleasing your parents.

“No problem. I’ll mention it when I write my next letter to him,” you reply. Pansy smiles and hugs you tightly. You pause. This is strange, physical affection is strange. In fact, any affection at all is abnormal for you. Pansy freezes mid hug, and pulls back.

“I’m sorry,” she apologises profusely. You shake your head to tell her it’s fine.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” you murmur, opening your suitcase. Pansy nods, giving you the space you need. You fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

———————————————————————

Your first class the next day is potions, not that you’re going to learn anything. Severus has already taught you everything that there is to know. You go all the same, no need to skip class. You’re almost excited, you’ve never been to class before.

Walking in, Professor Slughorn, as he was introduced last night, hands you the name of your potions partner for the rest of the year as he instructs the class. You smile at him and look down, before looking back up in confusion because of the name written beside yours. Hermione Granger.

“Sir, can I swap partners?,” you ask sweetly. Usually you get your own way if you smile sweet enough. He turns to you sternly.

“Miss Riddle, who I’ve chosen to be your partner is non-negotiable.” You frown as Slughorn pauses. “I do look forward to teaching you, your father was one of my very best students,” he smiles and pats you on the arm. You turn, dejected, towards the table he directs you to.

There’s a girl with curly brown hair already sitting there. She smiles at you as you sit down, extending her hand. “Hermione Granger,” she says.

You don’t shake it. You sit down instead. You don’t tell her your name, it’s pointless, she must already know it. You have no doubt in your mind that Harry told his friends that Voldemort’s daughter was attending Hogwarts. She shakes her head in disappointment, retracting her hand. Slughorn tells you to brew the draught of living death. You could do it in your sleep. Plus, Slughorn is giving a liquid luck potion to the best potion. You start going to collect the ingredients when Harry and his friend Ron burst into the class. Slughorn tells them to grab a textbook and they both go round the back before finding seats.

Hermione starts making the potion. She’s good, really good actually, but the draught of living death is really hard and the way it’s done in your textbook isn’t quite right. You need to crush the berries, for example, not cut them. There’s berries flying all over class as students attempt to cut them. You start to crush them with the blade of your knife.

“You’re meant to cut them,” Hermione corrects you.

“Look, you’re good for a mudblood. But trust me. You need to crush them,” you explain. Hermione stares at you for a moment, before turning away. Angry tears fill her eyes as she takes the berries off you and begins cutting them anyway. You pause for a moment, confused. You’d complimented her and told her the right way to do things, and she starts crying?

Pushing away all these thoughts, you look over to see Harry crushing them too. Weird, he must have heard you. By the end of the class your potions is satisfactory, but not excellent. Hermione wouldn’t listen to anything you had to say, and nearly shoved you out of the way at one point.

Harry, who must have heard all your tips, won the liquid luck potion. You’re seething. You want to excel at school and this girl was already getting in your way. Your anger festers, and a glass bottle previously containing a blue liquid explodes on your desk. Hermione gasps and you spin around to her, still fuming.

“You know if you had just listened to me then we would have won.” You cross your arms. You really needed to gain control over your anger. It was happening more and more recently: things exploding, paintings coming off of walls, random objects levitating. Sometimes you felt like you could take down a building with the might of your emotions.

“Filthy mudblood,” you mutter under your breath and, within seconds Harry has his wand pressed against your neck. You smirk. You were good at getting a rise out of people. If someone was going to hurt you, you might as well make them hurt you, after all.

“Do it,” you goad him. Harry’s eyes meet yours a split second before Slughorn forcefully lowers his arm.

“Detention. Both of you. This evening. I am very disappointed.” Slughorn doesn’t look that overly bothered, more like he expected this. You actually see him wink at Harry about five seconds after the fact.

You roll your eyes and storm out of the class before you accidentally smash anything else. Draco follows you out, catching up with you in the hall. “I didn’t know you could do wandless magic,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks.

You stare at him, confused. “I- I can’t.”

“It was you who smashed that bottle in there right?” He asks.

“Oh… yeah. When I get to emotional that happens. You know, angry or scared generally,” you explain, turning to face him. “Hey, why were you staring at Dumbledore so much last night?” You ask and Draco sighs.

“You won’t tell anyone?” He confirms and you nod. “Your father wants me to kill him. Dumbledore. I don’t know if I can.” He looks stricken, worried. He looks like a boy.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You look up at him and he stops walking. He nods and you take a breath. You’ve never told anyone this before. “I’ve never killed anyone,” you admit.

Draco is shocked, that much is clear. “But… but…” he stammers.

“But you were told I have? That I kill muggles all the time? Yeah, my father spreads those rumours to keep up the pretence,” you sigh. You were a fraud, a failure.

Draco looks strangely comforted. “You ever want to escape it all? The death, the murder, our parents?”

“Yes,” you breathe. Your father would kill you for saying it, but sometimes you wished you were a normal girl. With friends, and regular parents. A regular life.

“Hey, about this whole betrothal thing…” he begins and you cut him off.

“I’d love it if we could be friends Draco,” you say, and you mean it. You truly, truly mean it. He nods, satisfied. Maybe you could make a few friends here after all.

———————————————————————

Detention was at seven. The rest of the day passes without incident, although a lot of the students gave you dirty looks. Some of the teachers too. The castle is dark and cold as you make your way down to the potions classroom. When you open the door, you see Harry is already sitting at a bench. He looks up as you enter, but you don’t see even a trace of the anger you saw in him earlier.

“Slughorn wants us to clean the classroom,” he says, standing up and handing you a broom. You start a simple spell to clean the class and Harry shakes his head. “He wants us to do it without magic,” he iterates. You sigh and start sweeping. This is so beneath you. Harry starts wiping down benches without complaint. He sees your sour expression and stops.

“Is this beneath you?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, actually,” you reply. You’re dragging the brush over the floor, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything to the heavy layer of dirt.

Harry starts to laugh, of all things. “Do you not know how to sweep?” He asks moving over to where you’re still moving the brush uselessly. You shake your head in exasperation. Harry gestures for you to hand him the broom and you do.

“You want to push the broom away from yourself. Look at the tiles on the floor and take the dirt away from each one,” he explains, demonstrating to you.

“Or you could just do it for me,” you suggest and Harry gives a chuckle before handing you the broom again. You attempt to do it the way you saw Harry do it, but you’re still failing miserably.

Harry comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you to grip the broom. He puts his hands over yours and starts pushing the broom, showing you how to do it properly. You try not to flinch away from the heat of his hands. You can feel his breath on your neck.

He pushes away, moving to polish cauldrons. You keep going the way he showed you, and the rest of the detention passes in silence. That is, until Slughorn joins you.

“Now, I have been made aware that you are both excellent students. I would like to invite you both to my club. It’s very exclusive, only for the best of my students. But you have to get along,” he adds gravely. Your father had told you that Slughorn would likely attempt to get you to join his little club.

“Of course sir,” you smile as sweetly as you could. You liked this eccentric man. He was strange and funny.

Harry nods gruffly. “Thank you sir,” he replies, moving towards the door.

“Ah not yet, Mr. Potter. I have a proposition. If you both want to be part of my club, you must spend time with one another outside of class, until you learn to at least tolerate each other,” he grins, conniving. He looks very pleased with himself, clasping his hands and gesturing for you both to leave class. Together.

Harry leads the way and you follow him. “What are we going to do?” You ask, hurrying to keep up with him.

“I guess we have to hangout,” he says. It annoys you, you can’t read the emotions on his face. Whether he’s upset or angry about this arrangement, you don’t know.

You sigh. Your father would kill you if you passed up such a perfect opportunity to spy on Harry. “I’ll meet you tomorrow. 6am. Before class. At the whomping willow,” you instruct, before moving off.

When you reach your dorm, Pansy is reading a magazine as she sprawls out on the bed. She smiles at you as you come in. “How was detention?” She asks, closing her magazine and rolling off the bed lazily.

“Fine. I have to meet Potter tomorrow morning,” you groan, flopping down into the bed. Pansy raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it further. She’s intimidated by you, you can tell. It’s better this way. Keep everyone at an arm’s length. That way you won’t hurt them. That way they can’t hurt you.

———————————————————————

The morning chill bites at you and you pull your robes closer. Tiredness ebbs at your bones as you make your way to the whomping willow. Harry is already there, stood far enough away to avoid the tree’s deadly branches.

“Morning,” he says gruffly, voice rough from disuse.

“I suppose we have to talk, huh?” You say, crossing your arms to stop the cold from getting in. You hate the cold, always have. Harry notices your shivering and takes off his scarf, handing it to you reluctantly.

“Thanks,” you accept it. You usually wouldn’t, considering it’s got the Gryfindor colours on it but you had no other option. You wrap it around your neck, it’s lovely and warm. Snuggling into it, you fight the urge to smile.

“So what’s it like… being the dark lords daughter?” Harry asks, starting to walk beside you.

“Look. We’re not going to be friends. I’m not a good person. You’d be best to keep your distance,” you warn him.

“What have you done that’s so terrible? I mean, apart from calling my friend mean names,” Harry jokes as you both walk through the green grasses of the Hogwarts grounds. You stop and bend down to pick up a flower.

“I’ve killed ten people,” you reply, crushing the flower in your hand. A lie. You’ve never killed anyone. You’ve tried, ten times. But you never could. Harry didn’t need to know that though.

Harry doesn’t respond. He’s completely silent the rest of the walk around the castle grounds. Good. It’s better if everyone is scared of you.

Next chapter: Blissful days and stressful nights

“No Madonna? Fleetwood Mac? Blondie?” You scan the tapes, to absolutely no avail. It was all Black Sabbath and Metallica.

“Sweetheart I have ears,” he takes this dreadfully inappropriate time to grin at you. You smack him round the back of the head lightly.

“Focus!” You tell him off as he rubs the back of his head dramatically.

“Guys! She’s okay!” Robin calls and you breathe a sigh of relief. You rub your hand over the back of Eddie’s head and mumble an apology. He ducks his head around and catches your fingers in his mouth as he winks. You shove him off, laughing.

Your laughter dies in your throat when you see the look on Nancy’s face. She’s back in the right side up, but she’s pale. Like she’s just stared death in the face. You hug her, and she hugs you back weakly.

“We should get out of here, right?” Steve glances up at the gate on the roof and you all nod in agreement.

“My trailer is literally across the way,” Max offers and you all start to make your way over. You and Steve almost have to carry Nancy across to Max’s trailer. When you come in, you see the living room is littered with beer cans. Max refuses to meet your eyes as she clears them away as quickly as she can. You touch her arm as she passes in some semblance of support. You guide Nancy to the sofa and she sits down delicately. She’s moving like she’s scared she’ll break.

“Vecna showed me things… terrible things… that haven’t happened yet. A dark cloud over Hawkins. Downtown was on fire. There was this creature. It was big. It had no face. There were so many monsters. In our homes…” she trails off. “Then he showed me my mom,” her voice breaks. “My whole family… and they were all. They were-” she breaks off, unable to finish.

Steve takes her hand. “He was just trying to scare you Nance,” he attempts to soothe her. Nancy shakes her head.

“It was so real,” he mumbles, staring off into space, clearly still reliving it all. “And… there was something else. There were four gates. Spreading like a disease across Hawkins. Our Hawkins.”

“Vecna’s clock,” Max whispers. You stare at her, waiting for her to elaborate. “It always chimes four times. He’s been telling us his plan all this time,” Max affirms and a sort of terrible chill fills the air, like a tidal wave has come in that none of you can escape.

“Four gates, four kills,” you mutter, fear stopping your breath.

“End of the world,” Lucas comments.

“He’s only one kill away,” Dustin points out. The whole room stops breathing. Fear clutches at you desperately, but you try to fight through it.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie keeps repeating to himself and you take his hand in yours. He squeezes it tightly and you lean into him for support. Why was this happening again?

“Ring Joyce again,” Steve commands and Max grabs the phone. The line is busy. Max slams it down with anger, and it falls off the stand.

“Their line has been busy for days,” Lucas comments.

“Joyce has this telemarketer job, she’s always on the phone,” Dustin explains but you shake your head.

“Something’s wrong. And I bet whatever is going on there, it’s connected to whatever is going on here,” you say.

“Or, Max just typed in the number wrong,” Steve proposes and Max gives him the filthiest look before punching in the number again. Same busy line.

“You’re right. It’s not just a coincidence.” Nancy looks at you before walking over to the window, staring out at the bright day outside. “But they’re in Lenora. They’re safe. And Vecna can’t hurt them if he’s dead.” She spins around. “We need to go back into the upside down and kill this son of a bitch.”

Immediately, a chorus of ‘no’s” and “absolutely not’s” fill the room, mainly coming from Eddie and Steve. Steve stands up, starting to argue with Nancy. You tune it out and sit down beside Eddie.

“You up for this my knight?” You bump your knee against his.

“I’m not so sure, m’lady. But for you? Anything,” he says, once again kissing your hand. He then begins to pull you towards him. He leans in to kiss you, and just as his lips are about to brush yours, Dustin launches a pillow at both of you.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate in throwing it back at him as Dustin starts making gagging motions. You tune in to everyone else to hear Robin going off on one of her rambles.

“So if Vecna/Henry/One is just like Eleven, then he could turn us inside out with a snap of his fingers, it’s not a fair fight!” She punctuates every sentence with a wave of her hands.

“Then don’t fight fair,” Dustin chimes in. “We know Eleven. We know her strengths and weaknesses!”

“Weaknesses?” Eddie asks skeptically, and Dustin makes a face at him.

“When El remote travels, she goes into this trance like state. I bet Vecna is just the same,” Dustin explains.

“That explains what he was doing in that attic,” Lucas exclaims.

“I bet, when he attacks his next victim, his physical body will be defenceless in that attic again,” Dustin says.

“Defenceless? What about the army of bats?” Steve gestures to his own injury and Eddie nods along with him.

Dustin considers this for a moment. “We would need to distract them,” he offers and Eddie raises an eyebrow and starts to get up.

“How exactly would we do that?” Eddie says and Dustin shrugs. Eddie sighs and sits back down.

“But once they’re gone, he would be defenceless! It would be like killing a sleeping Dracula in his coffin,” Dustin continues, waving his hands about vaguely as if to further his argument.

“How do we figure out when he’s going to attack next? We don’t even know who he’s going to attack next,” Robin points out.

“We do,” Max says, voice so soft it gives you a chill. She’s eerily calm whilst she speaks. “I can still feel him… I’m still marked. I ditch Kate Bush and I draw his focus back to me.” She’s steadfast, sure that this is the right course of action.

“Max,” Lucas pleads. The desperation in his voice cuts into you like the sharpest of knives. “You can’t. He’ll kill you.”

“I survived before, I can survive again. I just need to keep him distracted long enough for you to get into that attic.” she straightens up. “And then you can chop his head off, stake him through the heart, pour holy water on him. Whatever it is, whatever you do to put this asshole in his grave, just… try not to miss,” she adds, nodding slightly.

The room fills with a sad sort of silence. You can’t see any way out of this. Any other plan that wouldn’t involve risking Max’s life. Max’s eyes meet yours, as fierce and blue as the waves on the ocean. There’s no stopping her now.

———————————————————————

Eddie slams the newspaper down on the table, finger pointing at an advertisement in the bottom left corner. It depicts a vague rhambo look-alike holding a gun. Eddie grins triumphantly.

“They sell everything you need to, well, kill something,” he explains.

Robin scoffs. “How is that even legal?”

Eddie shrugs. “Luckily for us, it is.”

Dustin surveys the ad closer. “That’s out of town, we’ll spend all day biking there,” he complains. Dustin loves his biking like the dwarf in lord of the rings loves running; over short distances.

“We don’t have to bike,” Eddie grins.

“Do you have a car we don’t know about Mumson?” Steve places his hand on his hips, a signature mood of his when tries to gain authority.

“No,” Eddie says slowly. “But I know where we can get one.” He looks suspicious. You give him a sideways glance and he just grins harder. “Red,” he addresses Max. “Do you have a mask or bandana I could borrow?”

No less than five minutes later Eddie is shimmying into the window of a caravan wearing a Michael Myers mask. You fight the urge to giggle as you follow. Crashing down onto the sofa at the back, Eddie helps you up and steals a quick kiss before Dustin gets in and starts throwing things at you again. You grin and start to help the others in.

Eddie moves to the front of the car, intent on hot wiring it. You go to follow but Dustin grabs your wrist. “What’s going on with you and Eddie?” He asks, eyes staring, accusatory, at yours.

You shrug. “Nothing.”

“Really? Then what’s with the hand holding? And the whispering? And you two were totally going to kiss in Max’s living room,” he accuses, arms crossed.

“He’s nice. So what if something is going on? You hated Danny. You like Eddie.”

“He’s mine! He was my friend before he was ever your… whatever this vomit-inducing thing is,” he waves his hands about again and you roll your eyes. You could tell him why Eddie became friends with him in the first place, but you’re not that mean.

“We can share,” you offer, moving to the front before Dustin can argue anymore. The engine starts and Eddie screams for you to hold on to something. You grip onto Robin as the caravan speeds off. The couple who were sitting outside it are screaming, running after you.

“They look really angry,” Dustin shouts, looking out the window in fear.

“It’s not every day you lose your car and your house in one fell swoop,” Robin points out.

Steve is driving like a madman, steering with quick, jerking motions. You sit down beside Eddie on a booth at the side.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” You ask, kicking your legs up onto the booth.

“Daddy dearest,” Eddie replies casually.

“It’s kinda hot,” you admit, giggling slightly. Eddie raises an eyebrow before smirking. He takes your hand.

“Yeah?” He seeks confirmation and you nod. You feel stupid as soon as you say it but Eddie seems incredibly pleased with himself.

Robin throws herself down onto the booth beside you, completely interrupting your moment. She starts to talk, mostly to Eddie. Usual Robin blathering that you tune out as you think about the path ahead of you all. You were going to have to risk your life again. And Dustin’s. And Max’s. And Steve’s and Nancy’s and Robin’s and Lucas’s.

Into the woods you go again.

Notes: I’m thinking another 2 chapters maybe? I really could have done more in this one but I cba

Masterlist!

You decided not to go to school that morning, despite your plummeting attendance. You’re hungover, the remnants of a cocktail of alcohol and drugs still swirling in your veins. Shane leaves. You’re not sure why, but you know he’ll be back soon. He doesn’t like leaving you alone in the house- probably for fear of the sleeping drug addicts upstairs.

Realising you left your phone at the pub, you swear and head out to get it, despite the drowsiness still gripping at you. You barely manage to make it to the pub, stopping to throw up twice along the way. You knock on the door until your knuckles are stinging. There’s no answer.

A boy walks from around the corner; the same boy from last night. At least, you think. He pauses when he sees you. “You left something here?” He asks, gesturing with his head to the pub. You nod and he takes out a pair of keys. “I left my wallet,” he explains, starting to unlock the door. “You look like hell,” he peers at you. You don’t reply.

“Why do you have the keys?” You mumble, walking in the door past him. You find your phone lying on the floor beside the booth.

“I work here. I’m Gibsie by the way,” he replies, going behind the counter and grabbing a brown leather wallet. It looks expensive. And full. “I saw you last night. You were off your tits,” he throws the keys up into the air and catches them again.

“I think I remember that,” you mutter, seeing that you already have three missed calls from Shane. He must be back at the house already. Gibsie looks at your phone, and then at you.

“You’re going out with that Holland guy, right?” He asks. You nod slowly. “What age are you?” He questions intently. He looks borderline concerned.

“None of your business,” you snap back. You know where this is going, and you don’t like it. This guy has no business butting in on your relationship.

He holds his hands up apologetically. “Not trying to ruffle any furs,” he says.

“Feathers.”

“What?” He looks at you, confused.

“The expression is ruffle any feathers,” you explain and he still looks baffled.

“Pretty sure it’s furs. But anyway I got to lock up here before school.”

You begin to walk towards the door but you hesitate. “I’m sorry if Shane said anything to you. He can be… jealous,” you say carefully. The truth is, Shane is a lot more than just jealous. You’d seen him break a guy’s nose for flirting with you. You’d felt a sickening guilt for weeks after that incident, but never dared to bring it up to Shane.

“I can tell,” Gibsie says, guiding you out and locking the door behind him. “Do you need a lift to school?” He raises his eyebrows at you, as if he already knows the answer.

“I’m not going,” you reply, walking off before he can respond. He stares at your back for a moment before heading his own way.

When you get back to the house Shane is furious. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He demands, putting his hand on the wall to block you from getting by him.

“I didn’t have it. I had to go to the pub to get it back,” you say, ducking under his arm and continuing into the kitchen. Shane’s little brother Jamie comes down stairs, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Morning wee man,” you say ruffling his hair. You start to make him toast with jam and Shane follows.

“How’d you get in, the pub is closed this time of day,” he stares at you intently and you shrug.

“The door was unlocked,” you lie. Shane stares at you for a moment longer before letting up, going and lying down on the sofa. You don’t even want to know what Shane would have said if you had told him about Gibsie.

“I dunno if we’ll be going to that pub again,” he mutters, lighting a cigarette with a click of his zippo.

“Why not?” You start slathering the jam on Jamie’s toast.

“Keep your fucking voice down, would ya? I don’t want you to wake up the lads upstairs,” he snarls, before conceding. “I don’t want to go back there because of that pervy bartender,” he explains, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“What pervy bartender?” You act oblivious.

“He was trying to talk to you last night, and you high as a fucking kite. I didn’t like the look of him, rich fucker like that,” Shane looks at you and you shrug as if you don’t remember.

“Can you walk me to school?” Jamie asks you, staring up at you with his classic puppy dog eyes. You’re about to say yes when Shane butts in.

“You’re not a baby Jamie. You can walk on your own,” he drawls, putting out his cigarette on the ashtray and stepping behind you, arms circling your waist. You give Jamie and apologetic look, and he grabs his school bag and leaves.

“He’s only eight, you shouldn’t be so mean to him,” you berate him as he buries his head in your neck.

“When I was eight I was doing drugs and driving my da to his deals, I think he’ll be fine walking to school on his own,” he breathes against your skin. “And besides, I wanted time with you before the lads upstairs wake up.” He kisses your neck softly, fingers dancing up your arms.

He moves to the side of the kitchen, grabbing a white baggie and taking a pill out of it. He gestures for you to open up and he sets it on your tongue. You take it, like you do every time.

———————————————————————

That night is the usual. Faint music plays in the background as men pass around joints and snort God-only-knows-what. You’re sober- well, basically. Shane said he had some special stuff for the both of you to do tonight, but he was currently away doing a drug run.

The doorbell rings and you go to answer it. It’s probably another druggie looking for Shane. The door swings open only to reveal Gibsie. He looks worried, eyes ringed with concern. “Is Joey Lynch here?” He asks, stepping forward before you even have a chance to reply.

“Lynchy is upstairs,” you respond, and Gibsie walks past you, running up the stairs. You follow quickly. “You can’t be here,” you say but he ignores you, opening up room after room upstairs, revealing men passed out on all sorts of drugs.

“Christ,” he mutters under his breath. He opens a room at the end of the hall. There’s Lynchy, lying down on a filthy mattress, needle sticking out of his arm. Gibsie moves into the room, kneeling down beside him. “You’re going to have to get up lad, because your girlfriend has gone mad looking for you,” he says.

Joey just groans in response, rolling to his side on the filthy bedspread. “You need to go before Shane gets back,” you repeat. Gibsie looks up at you, annoyed.

“I’ll go as soon as I get this eejit on his feet,” he argues.

“I’ll help you carry him then,” you counter. Gibsie nods and you grab Joey by underneath one of his arms. With some amount of effort, you haul him up.

“Jesus, for someone so lanky he weighs a tonne,” Gibsie heaves. He’s carrying the majority of Joey’s weight as you begin to lift him down the hall and the stairs. You gesture for one of Shane’s friends to open the door for you, as you haul him out.

Gibsie points to where his car is and you make to effort to lug Joey over. However, you’re not looking where you’re going and you trip over the curb, plunging headfirst into the concrete. Pain explodes in your head, and clasp at it. Your hand comes away with blood. You’re bleeding close to your hairline. Gibsie is still carrying Joey, and practically throws him into the car before kneeling beside you.

“Christ, are you alright?” He looks like he’s going to be sick. He doesn’t look at you, instead looking down at his own legs.

“Grand yeah,” you say, dazed. Your head is smarting in pain.

Gibsie looks at you briefly, grimacing before looking away. “You need to go to a hospital. That looks like it needs stitches,” he says to the ground. You start to shake your head but he stops you. “Get in the car. I’ll take you.” He leaves no room for argument and, seeing as you don’t know what excuse you’re going to make to Shane for all of this, you get in.

Gibsie’s eyes never stray from the road as he drives. Joey groans in the backseat, not even able to sit up straight. Your fingers are covered in blood. Gibsie glances over once and nearly swerves off the road. “Holy shit!” You exclaim, clinging to the side of the car as Gibsie straightens up again. “Are you high?” You borderline scream.

“Blood,” he grunts. “I- I can’t do blood,” he grits his teeth, staring at the road ahead pointedly.

“Okay, I’ll… I’ll cover it up,” you reply. You look around for something to cover up the wound. With no options in sight, you decide that your shirt will have to do. You’d rather go topless than die in a car crash. You whip your top off and tie it around your forehead. “Better?” You ask.

Gibsie glances at you and swerves again. “What the fuck?” You look at him. What was this guys problem? Could he not drive? “There’s no blood anymore!”

“I can see your boobies,” he chokes out.

“Omg boys are so immature,” you complain, crossing your arms over your chest to prevent Gibsie from running you all off the road. “They see the tiniest bit of flesh and they go mental,” you huff, looking out the window.

“You just flashed me your tits in my own car!” Gibsie points out, as you pull up to the hospital.

“Are we going to bring bucko in with us?” You nod to Joey in the backseat, deciding to ignore Gibsie’s comment.

“I’ll ring Aoife to come pick him up,” he says, sliding out of the car as you pull your shirt back over your head. You get out and start to check in at the reception as Gibsie whips out his phone. Looking at your own cell, you see ten missed calls from Shane and three texts.

Shane: Where r u?

Shane: Jake said u left with Lynchy and some blonde?

Shane: call me now

You sigh, snapping your phone shut. He was going to be a nightmare when you got home. Gibsie comes back in, and you sit down together as you wait.

“Is now an inappropriate time to ask how often you take your top off in random guys cars?” He says casually, leaning back into the chair.

“Yes,” you answer. You were getting antsy. You were definitely ready for whatever drugs Shane had in store for you.

“So what’s your deal then? Do you live with Shane?” He questions, still unable to look at you for fear of the blood.

“No,” you say defensively. “I’m only seventeen.” The truth is, you do practically live with Shane. Your dad lives in England, building football stadiums and other sports arenas to support you and your mum. Your mum is an alcoholic who doesn’t know the day or month the vast majority of the time. So it was easier to stay with Shane. It had been two weeks since you last slept in your own bed.

Gibsie stares at you for a moment. “How’d you fall in with a guy like that anyway?”

You sigh. “I met him in a pub and he asked me out. Not much more to it,” you summarise. Truth is, that night you met him in the pub you were looking for him. You wanted drugs; your mother was drunk and you couldn’t deal with it all anymore. Couldn’t deal with the constant shouting, the broken bottles on the floor and the smell of booze. You had wanted an escape.

“When did you start taking drugs?” He asks.

“Can you mind your own business?” You snap, before relenting. He seems genuinely curious, and you suppose you couldn’t fault him for that. As well as that, you were going to be here a while. “First time I touched a drug I was thirteen. My mam was on a bender, so I stayed at a friend’s house. Her older brother had weed in his room, so we stole it.”

“Christ. Your ma… does she do that often?” He presses.

You shrug. “She’s an alcoholic.” You’ve never hidden what your mother is, there’s no point. When your ma shows up at the local shop drunk and demanding they serve her more alcohol, there’s no point in denying it.

Gibsie stays silent, contemplating for a moment. “Are you an addict?” He asks bluntly. It throws you; nobody has ever asked you that before. You have to think about it for a second before you are able to reply.

“I don’t know I suppose… I haven’t tried to go without drugs yet. I take them everyday. Everyday for six months, since I started dating Shane. I don’t even know what I’m on half the time… I just take what he gives me,” you admit, fiddling with your fingers.

“Would it be horrible if I made a dirty joke out of that?” He asks before becoming serious. “Do you like taking them?”

“I guess… it slows me down. My thoughts my feelings, they all just fade away. And then it doesn’t matter that my mam doesn’t care about me or that I miss my dad. It doesn’t matter how Shane treats me. When I take them it’s just me and him. Us against everything else. Fuck school, fuck teachers, fuck parents.” You breathe out. You’ve never spoken about this with anyone before. It’s easy, you suppose, to talk to someone you don’t know, and you’re pretty sure you’re concussed.

Before Gibsie has time to ask any more questions, the nurse comes and takes you away. Twenty minutes and two stitches later, you come out to find Gibsie still waiting. “I have a small concussion,” you confess, and Gibsie nods. “Can you bring me home?” You ask.

Gibsie nods. “Sure, where do you live?”

You shake your head. “I meant back to Shane’s,” you clarify and Gibsie pauses for a moment before nodding slowly.

You don’t talk on the way home. Not a word. When you pull up at the house, there’s a few men outside, chatting lazily. Another guy is throwing up over the garden wall. You give Gibsie a quick thanks before you get out. You’ve only been gone an hour or two, but you know Shane was going to throw a fit.

You get out of the car, and watch as Gibsie’s car drives around the corner, out of sight.

Notes: Ty for reading! If u want a part 2 lmk!! Also I write a lot for stranger things so if u like this and like stranger things, my Masterlist is below :)

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks, and Steve grips her arms. “You’re losing a lot of blood, sit down,” she instructs and Steve drops with a thud to the ground. He groans, covering his face with a hand. Nancy tears her scarf and starts to wrap it around Steve’s abdomen.

Eddie gently takes your arm. He gestures for Nancy to give him a strip of her scarf and he begins to wrap it around your bicep. He ties it and you wince. “Sorry,” he gives you a small smile.

You try to smile back but end up with a half-hearted grimace. Your arm is throbbing in pain. Eddie presses a chaste kiss against your bandaged arm and you push his head away with a short laugh.

Eddie starts to climb the rock, arms held out at the side as he balances, looking skyward. “So you’ve all been here before?” He asks, peering down at all of you.

“Nancy and I have. It’s weird, being back,” you reply.

“Don’t step on any vines. It’s a hive mind. You step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna,” Steve warns and Eddie curses before trying to get down without alerting the whole of the upside down.

“So, this place is like Hawkins without the upside down right?” Robin pitches in and you nod. “So can’t we just go to the police station and take some guns to shoot the demobats guarding the gate.”

“Demobats?” You ask at the same time Nancy shakes her head.

“We don’t need to go all the way to the station,” she mutters, turning around to face all of you. “I have some at my house.”

Eddie looks flabbergasted. “You have guns. At your house. Nancy Wheeler.” His mouth is open comically wide and you elbow him to get him to shut it.

“Full of surprises isn’t she?” Robin comments.

“She has two,” you almost giggle.

“She almost shot me with one,” Steve comes up behind Nancy, chest still bare. Eddie gives him a disgusted look as Nancy and Steve continue to flirt before throwing his sleeveless denim jacket at Steve.

“For your modesty,” he says, nodding towards Steve’s chest, which he, for obvious reason, is not self conscious of at all. Steve nods, slipping the jacket on. You watch as Nancy eyes Steve intently. You gently elbow her and she looks at you and shrugs. Who can blame her?

Suddenly, the ground starts to shake. You fight for balance, and you’re about to step on a large vine when Eddie grabs you and pins you to the ground, far out of reach of any sprawling black tendrils. Creatures scream and cry in the distance, and you cling to Eddie in fear.

The noise stops, and you let go. Eddie winks on top of you and you push him off playfully. You look over to see Steve holding Nancy against his chest protectively. Seriously, what was going on with them? You wonder if Jonathan and Nancy have fallen out.

“What are we waiting for?” Steve gets up, clicking on his flashlight and leading the way to Nancy Wheeler’s upside down house. ———————————————————————

Robin walks ahead, Steve and Eddie are behind and you walk alongside Nancy. You bump her shoulder gently. “So what’s going on between you and Steve?” You whisper, glancing back as Steve and Eddie have what looks like an animated conversation- on Eddie’s end.

“What? Nothing,” Nancy says defensively, crossing her arms and staring straight ahead.

“Oh come off it! You were totally checking him out earlier. In fact, I think I saw a little drool,” you raise your eyebrows at her.

“I wasn’t! I’m dating Johnathan, in case you haven’t noticed,” she retorts, still not looking you in the eye.

You hum disbelievingly. Then, the ground begins to shake. Again. You clutch at the nearest tree, trying your best to steady yourself. Slowly, the earth settles and you have a shuddering breath.

Nancy rushes ahead, and you chase after her. The Wheeler house comes into sight. “Come on,” Nancy breathes, before stalking ahead. Eddie falls in lie beside you.

“What were you talking to Steve about?” You bump his shoulder.

“Your brother mostly. And my cowardice,” he puts his hands in the front pocket of his jeans as he walks.

“How many times, Eddie? You’re not a coward,” you hesitate, before taking his hand like he did yours when you needed comfort. He smiles at you.

“I keep running away. With Chrissy. With Patrick. The only reason I came to help Steve was because you jumped in.” He stares ahead, demons clearly plaguing him. You rub his hands with your thumb soothingly, as you both step onto the Wheeler porch.

The house is dark, decrepit. “No harm Nancy, but this place is a shithole. I thought the Wheeler name deserved a little more respect,” you joke, surveying the house.

Nancy traipses up the stairs and you all follow as quick as you can. Nancy pulls a box out of her closet, to reveal a pair of… shoes?

“Those aren’t guns,” Eddie points out and Nancy starts shaking her head.

“I don’t know,” you say, picking them up and aiming the heel an Eddie. “I reckon I could do some damage.” Eddie feigns being attacked, clutching a his heart dramatically.

Nancy picks up some flashcards and starts studying them intently. “Okay grades are important, but I’m thinking we leave chemistry till after we leave the upside down,” Robin comments.

“This is all wrong.” Nancy starts walking around the room, picking out inconsistencies. She picks up her diary. “This only goes as far as November 1973. That’s the reason my guns aren’t here. We’re in the past. We’re stuck in the day Will went missing.”

You all stare at each other for a moment, however, Steve’s shouts interrupt you all. “Dustin! Dustin!” He shouts, practically bursting your eardrums he’s so loud. You all rush downstairs and find Steve looking around as if Dustin is about to pop out of nowhere.

“Maybe he does have rabies,” Robin whispers.

“What are you doing Steve?” Nancy asks and Steve whips around, nearly blinding you all from the brightness of his light.

“Dustin. That little shit is like in the walls or something. Listen,” he commands. The others look confused but you hear it too. You nod at Steve as the others begin to hear it too. You all begin shouting, but Dustin doesn’t reply. “He can’t hear us,” you surmise. “The lights.” You start to walk towards the kitchen light. “Will found a way to talk through the lights.”

The light is on. It’s gold light casting a soft shimmer over the darkness of the house. You reach into the gold dust surrounding the light and it glows. Everyone starts to reach into the light, which glows brighter with every hand that reaches into the golden sparkles.

“It… tickles,” Steve whispers.

“Does anyone know morse code?” Nancy looks around. You, Steve and Robin all shake your heads.

Eddie pauses for a moment. “Does SOS count?” He asks. You all look at him as if to say duh. He grins cheesily and shrugs.

Eddie reaches up and starts to blink out SOS using the lights. You can faintly hear Dustin saying something about all of you going through a “watergate.” You all hold your breath as you wait for Dustin to say something, anything.

“Go into Nancy’s bedroom!” Dustin shouts and you all rush to comply. Five minutes later, you’re standing in front of it, waiting for Dustin to say something. The faint glowing light is on the bed, so they must have found something larger to communicate with.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Dustin questions. Nancy moves to touch the sparkles, and slowly, you all form a plan. ———————————————————————

Ten minutes later you’re on a rusty bike that Nancy lent you, headed towards Eddie’s trailer. It’s eerily silent, apart from the periodic cracking of thunder and red lightning. Eddie’s trailer comes into sight, and you all race down the hill towards the trailer park.

Abandoning your bike, you step into the trailer cautiously. Walking in, you see a red-ringed tear in the ceiling, through which you can see Dustin, Lucas and Max. Lucas disappears for a moment, dragging a mattress into the living room on his side. You wave at Dustin, relieved to see that he was okay.

Dustin and Lucas start tying together bedsheets to form a long rope. It takes them two tries to get it through to your side. You tug on it; it’s stable. “How does that even work,” Eddie asks, sliding over to you. You shrug, physics was never your strong suit.

Steve starts giving Robin a boost onto the makeshift rope and she falls down to Lucas and Dustin. It looks strange. You motion for Eddie to go next but he takes a deep bow. “Ladies first.” You grin and climb up, falling down and flipping when you reach the space between the two realms. You land on the mattress with a thump.

Eddie comes through next. “That was fun,” he says as you help him up. You hug Dustin, who grips you back just as hard. Looking up, you see Steve shaking Nancy. He’s calling her name. She’s not moving. She’s not blinking. She’s not seeing.

Notes: sorry this took to long guys, and also I know it’s not great. next chapter! Masterlist!

It takes Steve all of one minute to find a boat, and you, Nancy, Robin, Steve and Eddie all hop in. Dustin goes to get in but you hold a hand up. “There’s no more room. You can all stay here and look after Max,” you smile sweetly.

Dustin crosses his arms. “No way! That’s not fair!” He explains, stomping his foot like a petulant child. “Eddie?” He turns to Eddie for support, but he only shakes his head.

“You heard your sister man,” he shrugs apologetically. Dustin looks so betrayed it’s almost comical.

“I know why you’re siding with her,” Dustin proclaims. Eddie simply raises an eyebrow and gestures for Dustin to continue. “You’re hitting on her! Which is so gross man, that’s my sister!”

Eddie grins. “I am a man of simple tastes.” You elbow him but he only grins at you.

Dustin gawks and Steve starts to push the boat out. You glare at Eddie in annoyance but it doesn’t phase him. Steve hands you Dustin’s compass and you watch it until the needle starts spinning as Steve and Nancy row you out into the middle of the lake. “We’re here,” you tell the others.

Steve immediately starts to undress. “What are you doing?” Nancy asks, though her eyes never stray from Steve as he pulls his socks off.

“Someone’s got to go down there, and none of you are certified lifeguards,” he pulls his shirt off, and you notice Nancy pretend to look away, but you can see she’s still watching out of the corner of her eyes.

“Yeah I really, really don’t want to do that, no complaints here,” Eddie says, before turning to you. “I can see you gawking at Steve’s chest hair,” he whispers and you roll your eyes.

“What’s it to you?” You grin, looking into Eddies’ eyes.

“Well I was planning on asking you on a date after all this craziness but if you would prefer to spend an evening with Steve and all that,” he gestures to Steve’s chest and arms. “Then he my guest,” he pouts playfully.

“Hmm…” you ponder, trying your best not to break into a grin. “Well as much as I love staring at Steve’s chest, this date does intrigue me,” you murmur.

“I was thinking we could go to the hideout. They do nice food on a Friday night. I was thinking 8 o’clock, I could pick you up. In my head you’re wearing that little cheerleaders uniform,” he teases and you elbow him softly.

“Sounds like a date, my knight,” you reply and he kisses the back of your hand. Steve takes the flashlight off of Robin and Nancy grabs is hand for a moment.

“Be careful,” she says. Steve nods and dives in. There’s a splash, and then, silence. Your heart beats in your chest rapidly. You try to see Steve through the water, but the still darkness blocks your vision.

“How long has it been?” You whisper, and Eddie takes your hand in his.

“Closing in on a minute,” Nancy mutters. You take a deep breath. How long could Steve hold his breath? Was he in danger? Did he go through the gate?

Water surges as Steve pops his head out of the water, taking a deep breath. “I found it,” he breathes, holding onto the side of the boat.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says as Robin grabs the walkie talkie excitedly. “Dustin you are a mini Einstein,” she exclaims with glee . There’s no reply but the staticky sound of the radio.

You barely have time to think about Dustin’s radio silence before Steve shoots down into the water, as if being pulled by an invisible force. “Steve!” Nancy screams, rushing to the edge of the boat.

Nancy doesn’t waste a second; she kicks off her shoes and dives right in. Both you and Robin follow almost simultaneously. Eddie hesitates, but when you jump in you feel a heavy splash behind you, marking his arrival.

The water is cool on your skin. There’s a faint glowing red light below you, and you swim towards it. The closer you get, the brighter it looks. It’s definitely a gate. It looks like someone tore a cut into the sand at the bottom of a lake, and it’s bleeding. You grab the edge and pull yourself in.

You’re back. Back in this cold, icy hellhole. You’d promised yourself two years ago that it would never happen again. Looks like you broke that one. You fight back painful memories as you steady yourself.

Shivering as you stand up, you hear screams in the distance. Steve. Robin and Nancy are beside you, and you help pull Eddie out a second later. Nancy grabs four oars that were on the ground and passes them out and you all follow the direction of Steve’s shouts.

He’s on the ground. Bat-like creatures surround him, teeth sunk into did stomach. There’s a long tentacle wrapped around your neck. You almost pause. Almost freeze. But you don’t. Instead you raise your oar and whack the nearest bat. It flies off and you start swinging the oar wildly, hitting as many weird bats as you can.

Nancy and Robin are working on the one with its tentacle wrapped around Steve’s neck. You come over to help, striking the oar down on part of its tentacle. It releases and Steve takes a colossal inhale.

Steve grabs the bat-thing in question and starts swinging it about, hitting it on the ground over and over again. They swarm, trying to attack you all. High pitched screeches fill your ears as you fight them off.

One attaches itself to your arm. Pain immediately erupts as you attempt to pull it off. However, the harder you pull the deeper its teeth sink in to you. Eddie sees this and hits it with his oar. The creature remains stationary, screeching and biting you harder as you scream.

Eddie hits it again and again. He’s feral, shouting indistinctly as he does it. Eventually, the creature gives a final cry before flying away. You fall to the ground, clutching your arm in agony. You’re bleeding, blood flowing lazily out of circular bite marks.

Nancy gives you a hand up. “Keep pressure on it,” she says. Robin eyes you and Steve warily.

“We should get you to a Doctor. You could have rabies, and that’s like, my number one fear,” she says, keeping a safe distance from the both of you. You don’t respond, more concerned with stopping the blood flowing out of your arm.

“Holy crap. Are you okay?” Eddie takes your arm gently, fingers skimming over your wound and you wince.

You begin to reply, only to be interrupted my screeches in the distance. A dark, buzzing horde of bats were flying towards you. And fast.

Notes: this one’s short but oh well. Tysm for any support and lmk if you want added or removed form the taglist <3

also guys we’re coming to the end of s4, and the question is, are we following canon? Have a real angsty ending? Or change it? Idk

Next part out now: next chapter!

Masterlist!

It doesn’t take you long to get to Skull rock, you know the way well- you and Danny had your fair amount of trysts there. The walk on foot only took about ten minutes. The cold bites at you and you pull your jacket closer. Leaves crunch underfoot as you listen out for any sign of Eddie.

The giant boulder is in sight, but Eddie is not. “Eddie?” You call, stepping over the root of a tree and snapping branches. There’s no sound but that of the wind winding through the trees. You shiver. This shit is creepy. Then, Eddie jumps down from on top of the rock and you scream at the top of your lungs. “Holy shit man, what the fuck!” You yell at him. You rarely swear, generally only when you’re very startled.

“Sorry,” he laughs, running a hand through his hair.

“Are you okay?” You look at him with concern. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, evidence of countless sleepless nights.

“Yeah I managed to make it here anyway,” he nods slowly. “What happened with you? I heard you cry out when I was on the boat, just before Patrick…” he trails off.

“Danny punched me. He said he thought I was under some sort of demonic spell and was trying to ‘snap me out of it’,” you give an exaggerated role of your eyes.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he touches your cheek gently, fingers brushing against your skin. “I’m not going to ask you are you okay, but I am going to ask you what you did in retaliation,” he grins down at you.

“How do you know I did anything?” You ask in mock offence. “I am a lady!” You exclaim. Eddie just raises an eyebrow. “I kicked him in his dodgy knee. He went down like a fly,” you smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he says, grinning. “So what’d he say when you kicked him?”

You smile, and try to ignore the fact that Eddie had just called you his girl. “He said that he would forgive me as soon as I came to my senses. So I broke up with him,” you go to sit on one of the rocks. Eddie sits beside you.

“Finally,” he smiles a real, genuine smile.

You give him a look. “Eddie we’ve been speaking to each other for three days. I hardly think that warrants a ‘finally.’”

“You think I’ve only been waiting for him to break up with you for a week?” Eddie looks serious now. You nod, confused. He lets out a breathless laugh and shakes his head. “I go to every pep rally, did you know that?”

“I saw you at the last one,” you reply.

“Do you know why I do that instead of skip like the majority of my friends?” He questions, eyes boring into yours.

“No,” you whisper.

“Well it’s not because I care about basketball sweetheart. Did you know that we were in the same class two years ago? Biology. You sat next to the window, and the light made your hair all…” he gestured to your hair vaguely, “shiny. You used to raise your hand to answer every question. And you were so kind to everybody. Even the freaks. One of the guys pushed me over one day. I dropped everything onto the floor. Everybody stood and watched me pick it up. Everybody but you. Not only did you help me pick it up, you berated the guy in front of the whole class.”

You breathe slowly. “Eddie… I had no idea…”

“I just, I’ve always thought you were so cool. You stand up for what you believe in. And honestly? The start of this year I was nice to Dustin because I knew he was your brother. And I owed it to you, after biology I mean. That guy didn’t give me grief much after that, he was too scared of you and your pom-poms,” he explains. His face is close to yours, and you can feel his breath fanning on your face.

“I’m glad you befriended Dustin. Him and Mike really needed someone at the start of this year,” you decide to focus on that, and not the rest of it.

“Are you kidding? I love that kid. But I’m not done my story. When I heard you were dating Danny Smith, I couldn’t believe it. I said, no way. I mean I couldn’t understand it. You’re so smart and nice and kind. There’s no way someone like you could ever date a bully like Danny. I felt… betrayed. And I know that’s stupid, because we weren’t even friends. But I felt like I knew you. And that was not the girl I knew,” he finishes, waiting for your reaction. You didn’t know what to say. How could you respond to a confession like that?

Eddie answers for you. Gently, ever so gently, he takes your chin, guiding your face towards his. You stop breathing- or are you just breathing so quickly that you don’t know whether you’re breathing or not? Like when a pencil moves so fast it doesn’t look like it’s moving at all?

Your lips brush against his, hesitant, soft. Then deeper. He’s kissing you like he’s a drowning man and you’re oxygen. Like he’s been waiting for this for years. Your head is swimming and you feel like you should pull away but you feel that same pull, deep in your bones just like you did the other day at Reefer Ricks house.

A branch snaps in the distance and you break away, startled. The sound of Steve and Dustin arguing becomes clear and you immediately stand up, creating an acceptable distance between you and Eddie. Eddie stares at you for a moment before assuming a casual stance. It scares you, what you see in his eyes. Yearning, lust and… love? No, it couldn’t be. Right?

You shake your head to clear all these ridiculous thoughts. Vecna is still on the loose and you have better shit to do.

Steve, Dustin and the rest of the party come traipsing over. Steve is pointing at the rock and arguing with Dustin about something or other. “See? Skull rock!” Steve points victoriously at where you and Eddie are.

You zone out as Nancy goes into detective mode, picking up the key pieces of information; we know where Vecna attacks from and that’s pretty much the only update. You walk over to Dustin. You good?” You ask; Dustin is pacing the ground like a madman.

He stops and looks at you, before resuming his pace. “There’s something wrong,” he mutters.

“With you? Yeah,” you joke, as Dustin continues to pace. You look at Lucas for help but he just shrugs.

“I wasn’t wrong!” Dustin suddenly exclaims,

Steve looks baffled. “Dude, we are at skull rock,” he gestures around them.

“Skull rock is north. It’s the compass that’s wrong,” Dustin points to Steve triumphantly.

Steve gives him the dirtiest look. “So you’re using faulty equipment, either way you’re still wrong dude.”

“My compass is not broken. It’s deflecting,” he corrects, looking around as if everyone should know what this means. When nobody offers a reply he sighs. “It means that there is a stronger magnetic field nearby,” he explains, “which means…” he trails off, waiting for someone else to catch on.

“There’s another gate,” Lucas finishes and Dustin nods happily.

Your breath catches. If there’s another gate then you have a shot of freeing Max from this curse and killing Vecna. Dustin starts to walk off and Steve turns to him. “Where are you going? Eddie is still on the run, we can’t just walk around in the woods!”

“This compass is the key to saving both Max and Eddie,” Dustin waves his arms around as if to punctuate his point. “What say you, Eddie the Banished?” He smiles at Eddie, who’s now crouched down in the middle of the small clearing.

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor, which normally I would say is a crazy idea,” he picks up some leaves in his hands which he runs over his fingers. “But the shire… the shire is burning.” He stands up and Dustin starts jumping up and down like a toddler on sugar. “So Mordor it is.” His eyes flicker to you and you give him a soft smile.

Notes: ahhh maybe it’s too early for them to kiss but idgaf. Lmk if you want added or removed from the taglist, thank you so much for any support! Next chapter out now: Part 11! masterlist!

“How was the funeral?” He asks, sympathy clear in his eyes. He cautiously takes one of your hands, his fingers rub over your knuckles soothingly.

You shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you wipe the tears from your eyes and force a smile. “Let’s move on to a brighter topic, like the search party that is out there right now looking for you!”

Eddie groans, running his hands down his face. “Were they at the funeral?” He says, going to sit down on the couch.

“They were,” you reply, dropping down next to him. “They are as intent as ever to find you.”

“If only I was someone in DND. I could fireball them and be done with all of this,” he sighs.

“Dustin has tried to rope me into that a hundred times but I never understood,” you say. Many a night you had sat in the living room as Dustin had droned on about charms and evil creatures and campaigns. It bored you to tears every time.

“It’s actually pretty fun if the right person explains it to you,” Eddie says, eyes shifting over to you.

“I just don’t think that’s my thing,” you relax back into the sofa, stealing some chips from Eddie with a grin.

“Give me a chance?” He looks at your playfully, cocking his head to one side.

“Go on, hellfire boy,” you shift to face him.

Eddie spends the next half an hour telling you all about dnd and for once, you’re actually interested. He makes it sound like one big adventure, and that passion in his voice when he talks about it makes you smile. He even convinces you to maybe, possibly come to the next hellfire meeting to check it out.

“The guys will be so stoked, I’ve finally got a girl to come to a hellfire meeting. I don’t think some of them know what a girl is,” he laughs and you punch him playfully.

“Yeah this may be more than I’ve bargained for. And I only said maybe. We should go back go the boat shed,” you get up, and hold out a hand for him, which he takes and you drag him up.

You both walk out. It’s dark now; the air is cold and it’s sort of creepy. You wrap your arms around yourself, half scared a demogorgan is going to jump out from nowhere and attack you.

Eddie takes this opportunity to jump on you from behind and you scream and fall under the weight of him. He lands on top of you as you beat at his chest in revenge. He smiles on top of you. You grin. Game on.

You suddenly flip yourself over so you’re on top of Eddie, pinning his hands to his side. You smile, victorious. Eddie goes limp, admitting defeat before rolling you back over again, until the two of you are just rolling on the ground and laughing.

Then, a car pulls up beside the house. Immediately, you both go still. Eddie rolls away from you, looking towards the car. He raises his fingers to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet. He crouches low, and motions for you to follow him. Slowly, quietly, you both reach the boathouse. You wince as the door creaks open. Eddie grabs his walkie-talkie and starts speaking into it urgently.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Dustin? Are you there? We have a code red here. I repeat, a code red,” he whisper-shouts. There’s a bang across the yard and you grab his hand out of instinct. Eddie’s eyes fly to yours. You keep your hand in his and he squeezes it gently.

“Come on,” he whispers, pulling you towards the rowboat. You shake your head gently.

“it’s you they’re after. I’ll only slow the boat down. I can delay them,” you whisper.

Eddie stares into your eyes, hesitant. Both your hands are in his now. He looks like he wants to say something, what, you don’t know. “Go, go,” you push him towards the rowboat and he hesitates for a second more before scrambling for it.

You watch Eddie as he rows away into the black night. You can barely see him in the dim. You sigh, before leaving through the door, coming face to face with Danny.

“Danny,” you breathe in surprise.

“What are you doing here? You can’t be here,” Danny grips your arms tightly. His fingernails dig into your skin.

“Danny you have to listen to me. Eddie is innocent. It wasn’t him-” you’re cut off by a chorus of shouts by the lake’s edge.

“We found the freak!” Jason calls. Danny pauses. He looks at you for a moment before running towards Jason. You follow.

Jason starts shouting, before him and Patrick jump in the water. Danny goes to follow but you take his arm. “Danny please. He’s innocent. You have to believe me.” You search his face for something, anything to even hint that you’re getting through to him.

He stops trying to escape your grip. You feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe he understood. “What did he do to you?” He asks, concern stretching over his features.

“Nothing! Danny he told me what really happened and I believe him,” you plead with him.

Danny’s eyes darken. “He’s done something to you. Some weird magic. The same shit he did to make Chrissy get in his car.”

You shake your head vehemently. “Danny no! You have to believe me!” You plead with him, desperate for him to understand.

Danny stares at you before moving towards the water again, where Jason and Patrick are nearing Eddie. You pull him back again, but he pushes forward. You use your entire body weight to attempt to keep him in place and he spins back around in annoyance.

“I love you babe. And I’m sorry I have to do this. It’s for your own good,” he mutters and, before you have the time to process that Danny has just said that he loves you for the first time, he punches you in the face with full force. Pain spreads across your face as you fall to the ground with a cry. You lift a hand to your eye.

Oh no he did not. You kick his bad knee, the one he hurt last year at game with your rival high schools with all the might and rage in your body. Bam! He went down. You smile, victorious.

A scream sounds out across the lake. You look over and see Patrick in the air. Slowly, his bones start to snap. His fingers bend, his arms twist. His head pulls back. Then, he falls.

———————————————————————

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting waiting in the police station, outside of the interview room. Danny is sitting across from you, an ice pack on his knee. You’re struggling not to smirk, even as you have your own ice pack pressed against your face, which is a mottled purple.

“When whatever spell this fucker has on you is over, I will apologise for that,” he gestures towards your beaten face. You roll your eyes. When the police had arrived, Danny was adamant that Eddie had put a demonic charm on you. Apparently his “sweet” girlfriend would never physically attack anyone. Clearly he hadn’t heard about the time you’d punched Jonathan Byers. (Totally a misunderstanding!)

You had already done your interview, but you needed to wait until Jason finished his interview in case the police had any further questions.

It was easy to lie. You had just said that Dustin had went missing (technically he hasn’t been home the last few days), and you had thought that Eddie would know where he is. You had heard about this Reefer Rick guy from Dustin a while ago and decided to go there. When you arrived Dustin wasn’t there but Eddie was. He explained to you what had happened with Chrissy, and that’s when the guys showed up.

“For the record, we are so over,” you give Danny a dirty look. “But I’m sorry about Patrick,” you glance at your feet. Despite the fact that he had hit you, you recently discovered what it was like to lose a close friend and your heart panted in sympathy despite yourself.

He stares at you. “I’m more angry than anything. I just want that freak to pay for all of this. But when you’re back to yourself, I’ll forgive you for my knee. And I’ll take you back. Don’t worry, I won’t let that freak stand in the way of us.” He pauses for a moment. “I meant what I said by the way… I do love you.”

You feel a twinge of guilt, because no matter what way this all turns out, you don’t love Danny. You’ve known it for a long time. You just didn’t think it would be an issue, because you thought he felt the same way. “Danny look, even if this didn’t happen… I don’t think we’re right for each other.”

Danny pauses for a moment before shaking his head and laughing. Loud. “So what, you’re going to leave me and run off with that freak?” He looks truly disgusted. “You know what? It’s fine. It’s all fine because tomorrow you’re going to wake up from whatever this is, and my sweet, normal girlfriend will be back.” He’s sure of himself.

“Danny that’s the thing. I don’t want to have to be normal all the time. I want to be me… just me. And I feel like I can’t be that when I’m with you.”

Danny stares at you long and hard before getting up and leaving. The door swings behind him.

Notes: this is my fav yet. I’ve never written romance properly before so idk how this is tbh, any advice is welcomed. If you want added or removed from the taglist

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“Max, I need to talk to you about something,” you say, placing a hand on her shoulder. She nods, turning to face you. “I’m really sorry. Max, I knew you were struggling and I didn’t do anything. I should have helped you. I should have tried to reach out. And I’m so, so sorry and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

Max shakes her head quickly. “It’s not your fault,” she says firmly. “You tried. Everyone did. I pushed you all away. Everyone I love and care about. And I just- I wish I could take it all back. I really would.” Her eyes well up and you hug her tightly. You go to reply but she just shakes her head and grips you tighter.

“I love you Max. I don’t care if you think that’s weird and awkward to say but I don’t care. I love you, and this Vecna guy isn’t going to kill you,” you mutter against her ear. She just nods against you. “Look, I’m going to go check on Eddie. Those guys are after him and if they do show up, I have the best chance of stopping them,” you say, standing up.

“Eddie has a handheld, make sure and use it if any trouble does show up. I’ll tell the others where you are,” she says, squeezing your hand once before letting you go. You smile at her, memorising her features. Blue eyes like the waves on a sunny day, long ginger hair. She was going to live. She was going to be okay.

You grab your keys and head out. It’s another sunny day, the spring air carrying a hint of summer. Later, you’ll go to Chrissy’s funeral. The sun beats down on your back as you slide into the car.

When you pull into the driveway, you see Eddie in the window, dancing as he stirs a pot. You giggle and get out of the car. Eddie jumps and points the wooden spoon in your direction like a weapon. You laugh and put your hands in the air, as Eddie gives you an exaggerated bow.

“I came to check up on you,” you say, throwing him a bag of crisps you’d taken from the Wheelers’ house. “How are you for groceries?”

Eddie grins. “M’lady, I am famished! For days I have survived off of nothing but bread and water! Please oh please, find me a decent meal and I will be eternally at your service,” he says in the same voice he uses every time he does this. He’s on his knees in front of you.

You push him away, laughing. “For a guy who’s on the run for murder, you’re fairly upbeat,” you comment, taking a look at the spaghetti hoops he was heating.

“Well when in the face of so much adversity, I do try my best to think, what would a cheerleader do?” He says grinning at you.

“Are you making fun of me Eddie Munson?” You cross your arms.

“Absolutely,” Eddie looks down at you. “But if you’re not here to give me groceries, then why are you here? My charming good looks?” He crosses his arms playfully.

“Actually, I’m here in case the basketball team shows up,” you say, nodding slowly.

“Including your boyfriend?” Eddie locks eyes with yours.

“Including my boyfriend,” you mutter. In the heat of the past few days, you had almost forgotten about Danny. You would see him at the funeral later, no doubt he would be asking why you weren’t at the police conference in the town hall.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie says, leaning onto one of the kitchen counters, arms crossed.

“It’s a free country,” you reply.

“Why do you go out with him?” He asks. His eyes search yours for the answer.

“I- I don’t know I guess. It’s nice to have something normal in my life. You know, cheerleaders date basketball players, so it all makes sense, right?” You laugh nervously. The truth is, you don’t really know why you’re dating Danny. You suppose, at the crux of it all was that it was easy. He asked you out, so you said yes. Your friends dated basketball players, so you did too. You go on dates now and again, kiss each other when it feels right, and are together in public when expected.

“So you date him to fulfil expectations of you?” He says, waking closer towards you, staring down into your eyes.

“I- I don’t really know,” you say, noticing just how close Eddie has gotten to you. You never really thought about your relationship with Danny as something you were pressured or pushed into.

“Would you be dating him if you weren’t a cheerleader?” He presses, imploring you to think about it.

“Probably not,” you admit. Your breath catches as Eddie smirks slightly.

“So, if you forgot about societal expectations. Forgot about basketball and cheer and all the rest of it. What sort of person would you go out with?” He questions, and you can almost feel his breath on your face.

You pause, and really think about it. “Someone who isn’t afraid like me. Someone who is just themselves. Someone I’m with because I like them, not because it feels comfortable. Don’t you think?” You look up at him, eyes widening as you realise how close he’d gotten whilst you were zoned out, thinking.

“Yeah, I mean love should be scary. It should be taking risks and stepping outside of your comfort zone. Real love is passionate and raw, but also understanding,” he mumbles, eyes shifting from yours to your lips.

You clear your throat and shift away from him. His eyes follow you as you go. That was…weird. It was weird, right? Maybe you were overreacting. But… there was some sort of weird tension just now. You could still feel it. A pull deep in your bones. Did he feel it too? You shake your head, ridding yourself of any crazy thoughts.

“I- uh, I need to go to the funeral,” you say. Suddenly, all the craziness and the fun of the last few minutes melt away and you’re left alone once again with your grief. “Chrissy… Chrissy’s funeral,” you murmur, eyes welling with tears again.”

Eddie puts his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I’m sorry about that by the way,” he says.

You can’t help it; you start crying. One minute you’re laughing at Eddie and the next you’re bawling your eyes out. Eddie looks panicked. “Hey, don’t cry,” he says, before cautiously taking a step towards you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You lean into him, sobbing into his Hellfire Club t-shirt. After a pause, he grips you tighter, murmuring soothing words in your ear.

After a moment, you pull away from him. His shirt is wet from your tears. You give him a weak smile. “I better go get ready. I’ll be back afterwards. Bye,” you call, leaving before you do something stupid.

———————————————————————

Half an hour later, you’re in a black dress. One that Chrissy had dubbed your “funeral dress” after you had worn it to your elderly neighbour’s funeral. She said it creeped her out now and that you should never wear it anywhere other than a funeral. You never imagined you’d be wearing it to hers.

Her parents greet you when you come in. Her mother grips you in a hug so tight that you’re sure you’ll suffocate. You sit next to the other girls from cheer. You all embrace each other limply, too shocked to even say anything.

Her mother delivers a gut-punching eulogy, and you’re all in tears by the end of it. Hearing this woman, asking God why he took her baby girl, breaks your heart.

After, you’re walking out, arm in arm with Bethany when Danny grabs your arm. “Hey babe,” he says, hands circling your wrists. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you at the town hall the other night,” he says pulling you into a corner.

You nod. “I was at home with Dustin. He’s pretty shaken up, you know… because of Eddie,” you sniffle, wiping your tears from your eyes.

“Is Dustin here? Me and the guys wanted to speak to him about Eddie,” Danny says, intent.

You shake your head. “No, he’s not here. Danny, Dustin doesn’t know anything about all of this, I promise. The last thing he needs right now is you all poking at an open wound for him.”

Danny sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll talk to Jason, but I don’t think he’ll let up on this one. We’re still trying to hunt that freak,” Danny leans in close to you, as if to kiss you and you freeze. You think of Eddie, how he had leaned close and told you that love shouldn’t be comfortable. How it should be passionate and understanding. Do you understand Danny? You’re not sure that you do.

“Danny I’ve got to go,” you say, pulling away. He looks hurt, but nods. “I’ll see you later okay?” You step away and give him an awkward smile, walking out to your car alone. What was wrong with you? One conversation with Eddie and you were questioning everything about your relationship with your boyfriend. Well, you’d rather think about that than your dead friend.

Notes: I did promise more Eddie hehehe. Lmk if you want added or removed from the tag list! Also I could not be bothered to proofread this so sorry for any typos. Also anyone who is liking and reblogging tysm, it’s my motivation rn!

Next chapter out now: next chapter!

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You had known she wasn’t coping. You knew, and yet you didn’t do anything. Max was one of your kids. You were meant to look out for her. That was your job as the babysitter. To look after the kids. You’d been taking care of Dustin and his friends long before the upside down, or Steve became another babysitter. And now that one of them was being targeted, your heart ached with guilt. Maybe if you had been there for her, had tried to get her to open up more, then she would be okay.

And what about Chrissy? She was your friend, and she had been going through something. Something she never told you about and you never asked about. When Max had opened her file in Ms Kelly’s office, you didn’t look. You didn’t want to see what had been plaguing her. Why she had went to Eddie for drugs. What you hadn’t bothered to see.

Your head is still a swirling mess when Steve interrupts your churning thoughts. “Anybody know what she’s doing?” He gestures to Max.

Lucas shakes his head. Max turns around to face all of you. “I can feel your eyes boring holes into the back of my head,” she says, spinning around in her chair. You catch her gaze and smile weakly, barely able to look at her for guilt. The boys quickly look away, bushing themselves by pretending to read a magazine that was lying on the table or, in Steve’s case; throwing a ball into the air and catching it again.

She stalks over, what looks like envelopes in her hand. “You can look at me now,” she says after a moment of the boys still pointedly looking away. You laugh a little despite yourself, but then stop when Max starts to hand the envelopes out. “These are for… well… if things don’t go to plan,” she says. Steve goes to tear his open and she snatches it off him again. “Not for now,” she says handing it back. “These are for Mike, Will and El,” she says, handing the remaining envelopes to you. Lucas looks at her like she just punched him.

You stand up and hug Max tightly. She stands awkwardly, arms by her side for a second before hugging you back twice as hard. You wipe tears from your eyes as you smile at her. “You’re going to be just fine,” you say, even though you can taste the lie on your tongue.

Max walks over to Dustin’s walkie-talkie. “Will this still reach Penthurst if we’re in East Hawkins?” She asks, lifting it up as if to test its weight. Dustin nods.

“Why would we be in East Hawkins?” Steve looks concerned. Max starts running up the stairs, handheld in hand. Steve jumps up and sprints after her, and you all follow.

Max is standing at the passenger door of Steve’s car, and they’re both arguing. “I’m not letting you leave!” Steve exclaims, holding up his car keys to prove his point.

Max digs her heels in. “Then I’m going to call the cops for child kidnapping,” she says, head held high. They stay like that for a second. Eyes locked, both determined to win this fight. That is, until Steve caves and unlocks the car door.

About ten minutes later you’re parked outside Max’s trailer. Max has been in there for about two minutes, and you’re starting to get worried. You’ve bitten your cheek so much out of nervousness that it’s bleeding. Dustin is going that anxious thing where he drums his fingers against his legs and you can tell it’s irritating Steve. Max was silent the entire car ride. She’d said she’d only be twenty seconds and as time wore on, you all were getting increasingly agitated.

“Can you stop that man?” Steve looks back at Dustin, whose incessant drumming noise is the only one in the car. It’s hot today, and you’re sweating on the leather of Steve’s Beamer.

Dustin stops and stares at Steve. “Oh and your non-stop hair flicks aren’t annoying?” He looks pointedly at Steve.

“Hey, hey, I don’t do that that often,” Steve says as he checks his hair in the mirror, sweeping it up in that trademark Harrington way.

“How long do you spend on your hair per annum?” You ask.

“Per what?” Steve says and you and Dustin laugh. Steve splutters to reply but Max comes storming out from around the side of the trailer. “That was longer than twenty seconds!” Steve calls as she gets into the backseat.

“Are you alright?” You ask. Max stares straight ahead, an unreadable expression on her face, it scares you; you’re usually very good at reading other people.

“Just drive,” she says to Steve, who takes it to heart and speeds down the road. Maybe you’ll all die in a car crash before Vecna can get anywhere near Max. You’re sure Max would prefer dying via car crash than by evil monster from another dimension.

You roll into the cemetery grounds. You go to get out of the car but Max stops you. “I just need a few minutes alone,” she murmurs. You watch as she walks away, towards the hill where you know Billy is buried.

You were friends with Billy, for a time. You had met him when you were life guarding at the pool. It always bothered you that he was buried here- in Hawkins. He’d loved the California waves and sun. It seems like a final fuck you from life to bury him here, where he was never truly happy.

Lucas intercepts Max on her way up. You, Dustin and Steve busy yourselves to try and give them some privacy. They’re arguing, that much is clear. Your heart breaks for the both of them; Lucas is desperate for Max to open up to him and Max is determined to keep pushing everyone away. Max pushes past Lucas and he stares after her. You nudge Dustin and he goes and pats him on the back. “If she makes it out of this, they’ll make up,” Steve says to you, leaning against the bonnet of the car.

“I hope so. They’re so perfect for each other,” you mumble. Max takes out her letter on the top of the hill.

You all stand and watch her. Minutes pass, and Max hasn’t moved for about thirty seconds. “Max?” You call to her, but her head doesn’t turn. Her body doesn’t react. She doesn’t flinch. Dread slowly fills your body and you run up and shake her. Her eyes are faraway, somewhere else.

“She’s not waking up!” You call, and Lucas and the others spring over and shake her. “Wake up!” You beg and plead. You ask her to wake up again and again, but she doesn’t move. Then, the her eyes roll to the back of her head and the whites of her eyes is all you can see. “This didn’t happen last time,” you cry, gripping Max’s shoulders. “Please be okay,” you whisper.

“Call Robin and Nancy!” Steve shouts at Dustin, who stumbles back, tripping and falling over his own feet before managing to right himself and run to the car. You can vaguely make out Dustin screaming into his handheld and your heart sinks. There’s nothing you can do.

Suddenly, Dustin rushes over with so many cassettes he drops them on the grass before they explode out of his arms. “What’s her favourite song!?” Dustin demands.

“Why?” Lucas replies.

“Robin says that music- look, it doesn’t matter just tell me, what’s her favourite song!?” Dustin presses. Lucas panics, scrambling through the cassettes with no direction or sense. “What’s her favourite?” Dustin screams and Lucas shakes his head, still going through the tapes.

Lucas locks his hand around one of the tapes. “This one! It’s this one!” He calls, hands shaking as he goes to put it in the player. You put the headphones around her ears and Lucas clicks the play button.

Nothing happens. You start calling for her again. “Max we’re here! Please wake up.” The others call out for her too. Tears cloud your eyes, so you don’t believe them when Max starts to levitate, rising from the grass. Her head is tilted back, looking towards the clear blue sky. You wonder, briefly, if she can feel the sun on her skin, hear the birds on this beautiful day.

This is it. Max is going to die. She must be fifteen feet in the air now, and you’re all desperate, calling for her with hoarse voices. Your eyes well up until she’s just a blurry blob in the sky. You hope she isn’t in pain.

Abruptly, Max drops. Her eyes open. She turns her head and looks around. Lucas hugs her from behind and now your tears are falling freely as you all surround her in the biggest group hug to ever grace the planet. Max grips Lucas’s arms, chest heaving, but she’s okay. She’s okay.

Notes: I cried a little writing this. Also if anyone wants added or removed from the taglist, lmk. Thank you so much for notes and reblogs guys, it means the world to me :)

Part 8 out now: chapter 8 (much more Eddie in this one guys)

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