sgt-phoenix

Neville and his happy plant friends! :)

Summary: It’s the end of sixth year, and Ron and Hermione are finally talking again - and much to Ginny’s frustration, most of that talking is in the form of bickering.

(Also read on AO3)

It had been going on for hours. Years, really, if Ginny Weasley thought about it. And she was about ready to snap. The three of them were sitting in the Gryffindor common room and waiting for Harry to return from one of his private lessons with Dumbledore. Hermione was on the ground with notes spread out all around her (a clear mark of her insanity as exams approached). Ron was sprawled across one of the red, comfy chairs and Ginny herself was perched behind Hermione, on the couch. From her seat, she could have easily kicked Hermione in the head. She seriously considered it as an option to get the two of them to quit bickering.

And to think that, a little over a month ago, she had been worried that they would never speak again. Now, all she wanted was them to shut up.

In nearly thirty minutes, Ginny realized that they had bickered over practically every topic in their repertoire. It started over the correct way to write the letter “y” (Hermione said the loop should be long a curvy, whereas Ron argued that cursive was a dead language), had somehow progressed to the ideal way to study for an exam (Hermione said diligently, Ron said cramming), and then ended up on the topic of Harry, whom they discussed with such analysis that, without context, an eavesdropper might think they were discussing their child rather than their friend.

Mornings were Harry’s favourite. Mornings meant rushed paperwork; it meant excuses and late memos. Mornings meant authors, editors and retailers never being ready.

Mornings also meant Malfoy.

When he had first opened his publishing company, he hadn’t expected to come across Malfoy professionally, hadn’t expected to not only enjoy his work, but also enjoy his company.

However, what he hadn’t expected the most was Scorpius.

The chime of his floo went off as Draco’s voice saying, “Potter’s office,” was heard before his face was seen. Familiar babbling brought a smile to his face as he kneeled in front of the fireplace.

“Gandma!” Scorpius squealed and a small hand covered Draco’s face.

“Yes, after this you’ll see grandma. You just got to be a little patient.”

Harry couldn’t see Scorpius’ full face but what he could see, Scorpius seemed to be moving restlessly.

“Sorry,” Draco apologised as he looked into the fireplace fully. “My mother went on vacation and he’s been missing her. Thank Merlin she got in last night. I fear he would have rioted if she had been gone much longer.”

“Riot, huh?” Harry’s lips grinned. “Was he going to send his stuffed animals off to war with pitchforks and brooms?”

“He’s not a heathen,” Draco argued as his lips twitched. “He’d have made sure each toy had a wand.”

“Silly me.”

There was a softness to Draco when they locked eyes, and it always lured Harry in—always made him melt.

Imagine Fred being called Percy by McGonagall accidentally and then he gets so offended that he refers to her by “Professor [insert any other name but McGonagall” for the rest of the year, costing Gryffindor a considerable amount of points one at a time.

From then on, she vows to just call them all Mr Weasley.

How, how, how, is a teenage boy supposed to rectify this, mentally? Connect these strange unjoined worlds to somehow explain that Snape––Snape!––knows his Aunt Petunia?

“It doesn’t make any sense, mate,” Harry tells Ron, blearily, desperately wishing at age thirteen years that his butter beer was a real beer. “It just––it can’t be. Why would he know Aunt Petunia?” Ron grimaces. “Why would he want to? I mean, I know he’s Snape, and all that, but––”

Harry writes his only letter back to #4 Privet Drive, dotted with tears, and it has one line: How do you know Severus Snape?

Petunia writes back: DO NOT MENTION THAT MAN EVER AGAIN. 

And this. This. Sparks a light in Harry’s head. This is the same way Petunia talks about celebrities who have deeply, personally offended her. Usually when she fancied them and then they got married. It’s so completely clear to him, now: Snape is deeply, irrevocably, utterly in love with Aunt Petunia. 

is it Tender?

is it Homoerotic?

is it Implicitly homosexual?

is it Noticeably repressed?

Harry: It can be anyone. How did he look like?

Dudley: He was tall, blond, pale, grey eyes, pointy face…

1: Draco still can’t believe that he—the always poised, ever composed, perfectly fashionable Draco Malfoy—is actually dating Hot Mess Harry Potter (who doesn’t even own a comb, he’s pretty sure), and Draco’s still livid about it because he honestly cannot figure out how it all happened.

Or

Harry: Oh my god we went out one time! And then he died. Can we please not talk about this. 

srsly tho this is absolutely a thing that dudes do all the f***ing time

like where if he knows a girl doesn’t necessarily want to give him a hug, he will trap her in this position in front of witnesses where she has 2 options- both of which are undesirable for her, while simultaneously desirable for him

if she doesn’t want to hug him, whatever she does, it will suck for her.

she can 1. say nah and be the fucking asshole in front of other ppl or 2. forsake her corporeal boundaries and allow unwanted intimate contact

So I was on the transit bus alone one time. This was my first time riding, and so already I was PETRIFIED. I sit down, pull out my ipod, and begin to play some games. This guy sits down next to me, and begins trying to have a conversation. I don’t really respond, I don’t even look at him, just give half-hearted “mhm”s and “oh”s, as I don’t want to be rude if he was just striking up a friendly conversation. He then asks me on a date.

Now, as I stated before, I already was absolutely petrified. My heart stopped and I didn’t know how to answer. So I just didn’t. He didn’t let up and I could feel his eyes on me. I quietly stammer out a “no thanks” and my stop HAPPENS to be coming up, so I pull the string thing to let the driver know I want to stop there, and once we stop and the doors open I get up and he asks me, “Well, can I at least have a hug before you go if you won’t go on a date with me?” 

This makes me break. There are now people staring, as we are the only people standing up and not getting off… So I just start crying. Hell, I am bawling almost instantly. He looks so fucking freaked out and people are now getting up to come over and comfort me/question him. I don’t stop crying, and he keeps trying to comfort me by touching me, and people are yelling at him for that. 

AND THEN. AND. FUCKING. THEN. THE GOD DAMN BUS DRIVER. A VERY EASILY 6 FOOT BURLY MAN. COMES OVER TO US. PULLS THE GUY AWAY. AND KNEELS DOWN. HE THEN ASKS, IN THE MOST CALM VOICE, “Did you request the stop?” I very slowly and shakily nod, as I am still crying my eyes out. He then asks, “Do you want to get off?” I give a quiet “mhm” and nod once again, and he offers me his hand. I take it, he stands up, and he escorts me off the bus. He asks me questions such as where I was going next, if I was going to meet someone shortly, if I was going to transfer buses from there. He was very polite and waited for me to answer the entire time, and my friend (who I was going to be meeting there) showed up. He asked me if this was someone I knew, I said yes, and he said alright, have a good day. He then told me- and this is something stuck in my mind forever, so it is word for word-

“If some guy EVER starts harassing you like that again, do exactly what you did there. Cry. Cry and scream and have a temper tantrum. Not only will it throw him off, but it will get others to notice. They might not interfere, they might, but you will have gotten their attention and if you happen to go missing the next day the search for you will be a hell of a lot easier because everyone in that location will have seen you screaming and crying with a guy now very awkward with his actions. They will know. That is what my daughter did, and three days after she went missing she was back in my arms. I pray for you and every other person like you who has this done. You stay safe now, okay?” And after I began blubbering again, I nodded and he left.

It: 1. Gives them a sense of urgency in the situation, as the eye contact is a way to make them feel as though you are personally asking for their help and it is now their obligation to help. 2. Contains words so that if you’re in a public place but people aren’t necessarily watching, then they (as natural evesdroppers) can overhear the attention-grabbing words and then notice the situation. Note, this does NOT mean that they will come for help, but you might be able to look someone in the eye (as previously mentioned) or just get some people’s attention. 3. It shows that you have fight in you. As with rapists, those who are physically aggressive (ie. these huggers) choose women they see as an easy target. The moment you show them you are going/willing to fight them, they are less likely to continue. Sadly, this is not always the case, but every little bit helps.

So I used to be hot when I was young. I mean, model hot, because I actually used to model. Even now, I’ve let myself go on purpose because I was tired of the harassment. But I fit a UK size 6 with a pert ass from volleyball and a cup c breast. As you can imagine, I couldn’t wear anything or go ANYWHERE without being harassed. I sometimes even happened in church.

Anyway, I’m not a shrinking lily, and when I get angry enough I can do some crazy shit. So here are some of my coping mechanisms:

1) find a matronly looking lady, run up to her with ‘aunt may! I haven’t seen you in ages! ’ then whisper ‘please help he’s harassing me!’. 99.9 times out of 100, she will be scandalised and help you anyway even if she’s annoyed or in a hurry. If no older lady is available, find a younger one, or a nun, or a trans lady. We of the sisterhood know what it is to be harnessed, and I guarantee if you look frightened enough, they will help.

2) If you are out alone at night, and someone is following you, spot a house or apartment where the lights are on and knock, asking ‘mum’ or ‘dad’ or ‘john’ to let you in. Even if the people inside are annoyed, odds are they won’t turn you away, and you can phone someone to pick you up, or phone the police from a safe space

3) Make noise. Cry and scream loudly, call them out ‘i don’t know you and you are terrifying me! Please get away from me!’ if there are people around. Even if they don’t help directly for fear of their own safety, someone around you is calling security or 911.

4) speak a foreign language. If you know it, speak the language to them fast and incessantly, like you have just met someone you knew and you’re just giving the best performance rant of why your OTP is the best OTP. Make yourself ANNOYING. Think about what would be awkward and annoying to you and make it what you do to them. If you make them think YOU are something to get away from they will leave you in peace.

Now beware, the following ones are the CRAZY ones and may not always work. But they are a valid last resort:

5) stare at them. Stare at them like you’re hungry and they are a hapless deer you’re going to tear to pieces. Like yours the girl from the ring emerging from the TV to kill them. Don’t smile, don’t change your expression. DON’T BLINK. Hold their state like you’re Wednesday Adams about to do unspeakable things to a spider, and they are the spider. Even the most courageous of stalkers balk at this, but if they don’t…

6) Use the Hannibal Lector. After staring at them for and extended period of time (imagine all the things that have made you scared, imagine you could get revenge on them for putting you here, that’s the thought you need to have), if they are getting closer to you, whisper something like ‘i would fry your liver in garlic’. Even the hardiest ones will be taken aback, but keep it up while making sure you don’t let the others hear you. Things like, occult star readings requiring blood, wondering whether he is the offering the spirits sent. If you’re on this site you’ve read some weird shit at least once. Tell him that. Tell him you would like him to meet your lord, Vlad the Impaler, who requires much blood to be appeased. Be a stereotypical ‘crazy bitch’ like they see in the movies. Believe it or not, this has worked for me twice.

Above all, banish the notion that you have to be polite.

They were impolite by approaching you. If you can, ignore them. If you are not alone, pointedly put headphones in your ear, and don’t make eye contact, wait for them to realise that ‘youre a bitch anyway’ and move away. If you are alone, evade and find places and ways to fix that as soon as POSSIBLE.

Never underestimate the power of a good “EXCUSE me????”

Legit. It makes people STOP IN THEIR TRACKS. This is the one I whip out when people start swearing at me over the headset and always, without fail, they stop what they’re saying, shocked.

Go for offended, and go for loud. Not yelling loud, but giving-your-best-presentation loud. “EXCUSE me??? You approached me two minutes ago, I don’t even know your name, and you want WHAT? Creep.”

For one, the presentation will shock them. For another, that indignant tone? EVERYONE AROUND YOU IS GOING TO WANT TO LISTEN TO THIS JUICY SHIT.

Now the second key here is, DON’T LET HIM JADE (justify, argue, defend, explain). He smiles and goes “I just wanted–” FUCKING INTERRUPT HIM. Firmly. Irritably. “I heard what you wanted, and I’ve already declined once. Maybe you should go back to kindergarten where they teach you no means no.” Run right over the fucker. He’s not respecting your words, you don’t need to respect his.

éowyn pretended to be dernhelm, a man. to fit in, she must have worn men’s armor. so the armor in the illustrations is normal for rohirrim.

therefore, all the rohirrim rode to war just like that: