#possumwrites

hello friends i fear i forgot i had a tumblr i used to use every once in a while.

ANYWAY i haven't dropped off the face of the earth! i've been doing a lot of writing, a lot of cosplaying, a lot of adulting (that one hasn't been too much fun), and a lot of actually working. BUT here's what i can tell you!

i'm currently flipping between beautiful views and bad connections (my canon-compliantish bishova fic) and borrow the moonlight (my george/claire auror/death eater enemies-to-lovers goodness fic). i had to restart bvbc because of some plot hole issues and that previously mentioned cosplaying too up a lot of my writing time in preparation for dragon con. SO now that all that's over, i've been getting back into the writing zone.

the bad news is that these are just the first drafts. they still have to be edited and sent to my beta readers before they go live on AO3. i AM however thinking about posting drafts on substack if anyone's interested! i haven't posted any yet but if you'd like to give me a follow, keep an eye out!

"Okay, Kate Bishop." Yelena wiped her mouth, then her fingers, crumpling the napkin and setting it down on the plate. "Show me your new apartment so we can drop off Lucky and then we can go see all the sights."

Kate had just shoved the last bite of French toast in her mouth, which Yelena reluctantly agreed was actually good after Kate had let her have a bite—tempted not to just feed it to her off her fork—so she just nodded quickly. This meal had definitely felt more comfortable than the last one they'd shared, when Kate had been left with a half-full pot of mac and cheese she couldn't even eat. She'd tried, but Yelena had but way too much hot sauce on it. This time, though, Yelena had just talked about all the things she wanted to do, let Kate talk about everything she'd been up to in the past few weeks, which admittedly wasn't much besides school. But Yelena listened intently to Kate go on about homework and her professors and how online classes were a lot harder than people thought, the bad reality television shows she'd been watching, and how she was very excited to actually have a second bedroom instead of just a loft.

Once Kate managed to swallow most of her food, she asked, "Where to first?"

"Some people would not like you talking with your mouth full, Kate," Yelena teased with a playful smile. "But since it is so early, what do you think would be the best?"

Rating: G

WC: 616

“Hermione, I’ve got a serious question for you.”

She looked up from her book warily. He always perfected non-important questions like this, especially right before bed, so she wasn’t worried, but she still eyed him from the bed, into the bathroom where he was leaning against the counter. “What’s that?” she asked, gaze fluttering back to the page.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Hermione paused, wondering if she heard correctly. Then, slowly, she slid her bookmark in, closed the book and set it on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me if I would still love you if you were a worm ?”

“Yeah.”

“Why on earth would you be a worm?”

“It’s just a hypothetical question, Hermione,” he laughed. “Like, if you woke up tomorrow and there was me, as a worm, in bed next to you, what would you do?”

No matter how hard Hermione tried, the Room of Requirement could produce nothing on how to solve a maze.

“I know they’re not going to have the path laid out until the morning of, and I know they said the walls were going to change,” she complained to the trusty bookshelf, which had been proving to be helpful all year, “but surely there’s got to be something in there I can use.”

When nothing happened, Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and plopped back onto the couch next to Ron. Harry, on the other hand, was running through a textbook Moody had given him of advanced defensive spells to see if there was anything he wanted to learn. It was mid-April, so he had plenty of time to learn anything, but he felt like he’d gotten lucky with the last two tasks, and he knew this one was going to be more mentally draining. He’d never liked mazes.

“What if he just, like…” Ron’s hand moved straight out in front of him, “went through the sides, you know? Like blasted them away and cut straight to the center. Hermione, I know you know a spell for that.”

“That’s cheating!” Hermione scolded.

“I don’t think there are any rules, Hermione. That’s kind of the whole point,” Harry agreed.

“That’s not possible. That can’t be possible.” Hermione huffed, pulling one of the books off the shelf and frantically flipping through the pages. Whatever she was looking for wasn’t in there, so she tossed the book in the direction of the floor. Harry would have thought Hermione was mad to do that, but instead of hitting the floor, the book disappeared and reappeared in its spot of the shelf. “There’s been rules in every other task. There’s at least a rule that says you must participate, and a rule that has you forfeiting the tournament if you fail any of the tasks, why can’t there be a rule on… oh, wait a second.”

In Hermione’s hands, a book appeared out of thin air, A History of Wizarding Games. She brought it over the the couch and sat it in Harry’s lap. “Look through this to see if there have been any repeating tasks. And if there are, maybe there’s something in there about how the other person was able to get through it or what challenges they faced.”

Harry had been in the hospital wing more times than he could remember. He was shocked there wasn’t a plaque on the bed he usually ended up in. This time, however, when he had reluctantly walked in with Luna, their arms covered with a mixture of bright blue warts and boils, Madam Pomfrey immediately directed them to the isolation ward, making sure to stay several feet away at all times. 

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Potter?” she sighed, as she ushered them through the door and gestured for them to sit down on the beds. “You’re staying in here until we figure out what this is.”

“Oh, I know exactly what it is,” Luna piped up. “Harry and I were looking for Strawberry Cricket wings and ended up going through a nasty patch of Aching Dimbleweed. It’s very contagious.”

At Luna’s words, Madam Pomfrey paused her gathering of what potions she thought might help, looking to Harry for confirmation.

“Er, yeah that sounds right,” he replied. “It doesn’t hurt, though, just looks mad, so…” He wasn’t sure what else he could say, but Madam Pomfrey just nodded.

“Right. It sounds like I’ll need Professor Sprout. Are you two okay staying here by yourselves until we get back? And don’t leave . Or touch anything. Aching… Dimbleweed, you said?” Luna nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back in a pinch.”

Read it on AO3 ->

Patreon (access to drabbles, early chapters, and drafts) ->

Possum Hollow Discord ->

By the time they got back into Diagon Alley, Harry had kissed Hermione a total of four times, and he was starting to get the hang of it. They held hands on the way back, and Hermione assured him that it was normal for their hands to get warm, and that she didn’t mind at all if they got sweaty or anything (prefaced by the fact that he kept releasing her hand to wipe his on his pants). Harry’s heart was still racing from their kiss, and he wasn’t sure if it would ever stop. He’d actually kissed Hermione. And he planned to do it more.

They found the Weasleys in Madam Malkins, with Ron milling about looking very annoyed about something. As soon as he saw them, his eyes widened. “Hey! There you two are!” His eyes flicked down to their joined hands. “I take it your date went well, then.”

“Yeah,” Harry said a little breathlessly. Hermione blushed. “Is everything all right?”

“No, it’s not,” Ron huffed. “Our supply list this year says we need dress robes.”

“What for?”

“No idea. Some sort of event. But of course, we can’t afford robes for everyone, so Mum’s trying to figure out who’s gonna get the hand-me-downs. Three guesses who. And believe me, Harry, I don’t want to be caught dead in those. They’re just all frills and lace and-” Ron shuddered.

“Ron, I can get you dress robes if you can’t afford all of them, honestly. I’ll buy yours.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Look, I’ve got more money than I know what to even do with. I’m more than willing to buy my best friend a set of dress robes, all right? I would have gotten you a new wand second year, only I didn’t even think about it. I still owe you.” Harry smirked softly.

“We had a deal!”

“You think I was going to let you off without paying you back somehow?”

“Mum will never let you buy anything for me.”

“Then I’ll buy two for myself in case I mess one up. You know I’m prone to doing that. Then you can say you borrowed it if your mum asks.”

Ron’s shoulders dropped. “You’re a lifesaver, Harry, honestly. I’d kiss you right now if that position wasn’t already taken.”

Hermione blushed further.

“Have you rendered her speechless? Blimey, Harry, you should have kissed her in first year.”

There was a tradition that began the evening before her 19th birthday. Four months after the war, when she was still jumping at sudden noises, pulling out her wand when she didn’t need to, and still learning how to be with large groups of people again. The world was slowly starting to go back to a new normal, and as always, there was nowhere that felt more normal than at the Burrow.

It used to feel overwhelming sometimes, to be surrounded by that much family. When they were all together, she found herself missing the quiet of her parents’ house with just the three of them, eating dinner and talking about their days. The constant talking and bickering and physicality of the Weasleys made her brain feel like it was about to explode if she stayed there too long. Too much noise. Too many sounds. Too many people. 

Read it on AO3 ->

Patreon (access to drabbles, early chapters, and drafts) ->

Possum Hollow Discord ->

When the end of October rolled around, Harry and Hermione had been spending most of their evenings in the Room of Requirement, which Hermione confirmed by their location on the map when they left, sneaking to the fifth floor after everyone had gone. Hermione frequently complained about how useful this room would’ve been when she had the time turner, because it would have been great for doing homework. Harry did feel bad because he still hadn’t told Ron about the room at all. He knew he’d have to, and he’d been meaning to, the right opportunity had just never come up. He’d wanted to wait for a time when no one was around, which was rare, and he couldn’t just blurt it out, so he was waiting for relevant conversation, which was nearly impossible. He could just see it now - “yeah, Hermione and I have been spending our nights in a secret room that I haven’t told you about because it’s great to be alone”.

But it felt weird to be there without him. For years, it had always been the three of them - the trio . And as much as he loved spending alone time with Hermione, this felt like a weird sort of betrayal to be here without him. Not that he’d have a good time just spending his nights studying, but he had to be careful about this sort of thing. Ron had joked about being their third wheel over the summer, and Harry had promised him he didn’t have to worry about it. With Hermione’s head resting on his shoulder from where she’d fallen asleep in the middle of studying, though, it was beginning to feel like Ron had a point.