#pottyr

SEND   TRICK   OR   TREAT !   🎃   FOR   A   LITTLE   TREAT !         @warriorhe

           His sword sits on the table in front of him. Golden hues flicker up from sword to the boy standing across from him. There’s a smile that curves the edge of his lips. “I long ago passed the sword to those who would preside in my house.” His voice is gentle, kind. “Though I cannot seem to recall a time when it was needed until now.” 

         “My son speaks of you rather often.” There’s a smile. Oh her baby boy. He was grown man now, towered over her, but it was so hard to still not see him as that small boy. Then there was the boy who stood in front of her, the boy her son had taken under his wing. She would not lie, she was proud of him for that. “Your name is Harry, if memory serves.” The smile however shows that she doesn’t need to guess, she knows exactly who he is. 

She’d never been   known  for her patience or self control.  At least not off the field,  where the rules were only  s t i f l i n g  rather than structuring something she could  win.  After all,  competition is something she’s  ALWAYS  been comfortable with.  And she’s far too stubborn to condone  losing.  It made her good on a team,  and ensured she was always a strong player in the air.  Her broom never anything less than  steady,  her performance as close to  f l a w l e s s  as you can get in a game like Quidditch.  The irony in the fact she takes a  game  more seriously than life in general isn’t  lost  on her,  but she can’t be bothered to care as she confidently strides off the pitch.  Peyton trails behind the team’s famed  Seeker,  spinning her broom lightly against her palm before jutting it forward lightly so   j a b  him in the back of the knee to get his attention.           ‟          Someone is in a  hurry  to get out of here,              „               she says as she falls into step beside him,  q u i r k i n g  a brow at her teammate.                ‟          And here I thought that practice went pretty well.             „

❝   it’s  not  a  favor  —  i  —  i  want  to  help.   ❞     it’s  a  new  family  for  him,  one  that  harry  appreciates  far   more  than  he  can  explain.   he  owes  it  all   to  him  ,  to  faramir  that  is.  for  taking  him  under  his  wing,  for  giving  him a  home.   he  is   thankful.   incredibly  so.   so   like  the  golden  sun   above  them,  harry  is  warm  in  his  promise  of   help.   he  is  proud.   steady  and   ready  to  help   him..   to   always  help   him   in  response  for  giving   him   everything.    ❝  you’ve  done  so  much  for  me  —  please ,  let  me  do  this  for  you.   ❞     

         “No shame in getting lost--” He had spent years among these trees. Knew the difference between one and the next. Each hidden path, and unmarked trail. Knew where they would be seen and where they wouldn’t be. But once not so long ago, he relied heavily on his own sense of direction, making calculated notes on where he was, where he was going and how to return. Nervous of his own command. Now things he once thought hard, came as easily as drawing breath. Yet, in this maze of trees, it was not the first time one had gotten themselves turned around. And considering the other’s age, Faramir held little annoyance in the fact he needed to retrieve him. Their task was no no easy one, they all knew that. He gives a tilt of his head in the other direction, a smile curving the edges of his lips as he turns and begins to walk. “Come on, we’re up this way.”