Hi! Drarry - "I didn't think you had it in you" for the prompt :3
I didn’t think he had it in him. It’s one of those horrible, fundamental truths, of course: you can never really know another person. I’d stared at Potter for years until I’d memorized every idle gesture from the sullen way he crossed his arms when he was tired of being berated by Granger to the way he beamed with raw delight at things that should have been ordinary.
I knew he was poor long before anyone else had figured it out. He liked simple things too much.
I thought I knew everything about him.
He never looked at me. I mean, he looked at me. He curled his lip, and rolled his eyes, and despised me and if you’d asked my friends they would have said Potter stared at me every time I walked into a room but it wasn’t the way he looked at Weasley. It wasn’t the way he looked at Weasley’s sister. He didn’t smile when he saw me. His mouth didn’t quirk up in that little half grin that said he couldn’t believe how fortunate he was to know them. I’d sit at that long wooden table eating the unfortunate food Hogwarts served us and stare at the back of his head as he smiled for them. He had a curl. Has a curl. It sits on the right side and has always kept his hair from ever lying quite right. He had a curl and he had a scar and he had friends and then the war was over and I hadn’t seen him except in hagiographic excess in the Prophet for over a year when I realized I missed him. When I realized why.
Not that I planned to do anything about it.
I knew him, but I knew myself too. Cowardice has always been the cloak that I wrapped myself in. It keeps you safe, that cloak.
Or I thought I knew him.
Until I opened the door and instead of a witch wanting to talk to me about some political thing or other, and could I sign here and maybe donate a bit, Potter stood there, hair unruly and trainers soaked through. You’d think he’d have more sense than to step in puddles. We lived in London. It was wet.
“Can I come in?” he asked, raking a hand through his hair. I’d always thought he’d done that so people would see his scar. It flashed at me, proof he was the chosen one and I, well, I was not.
I stepped aside.
“What brings you here,” I asked.
He took a deep breath and seemed to search about for something to say. “I missed you,” he said at last. He took a few steps into my flat and looked around.
“Take your shoes off before you ruin the rugs,” I said, probably too crossly but I didn’t want to go through this. I didn’t think he had it in him, you see. What sort of idiot loves a man with a Mark on his arm?
Of course, what sort of idiot walks into the woods to let a madman kill him?
Like, I get that not everyone has the same likes and intrests, but you don’t have to become so aggressive.
Some people forget that it’s fiction and not real life.
Let me pull in an example, Paperhat.
For those of you who don’t know about this it is a shipping between a meek scientist and his demon boss.
The scientist is Dr.Flug and he is often seen being treated horribly by his boss, Blackhat.
Blackhat threatens Flug with bodily harm whenever Flug does something that irritates him. (Flug is not at fault for whatever Blackhat does to him)
And many were quick to say that the relationship between them was abusive.
A lot of people ship it and it’s fine, they’re not hurting anyone. (I’m included with the shippers)
But then here’s the issue.
People who disagree with the ship accuse the shippers of being supportive of abusive relationships that sadly happen in real life.
Let me say that most of the time it’s not true.
I’m pretty sure most of them (and me) would be horrified and attempt to stop the abuser.
This also applies to underage ships such as billdip and shieth.
It’s not real.
There’s a fine line between real life and fiction.
Fiction isn’t real.
You don’t ship it and that’s fine.
But stop attempting to justify your actions of verbal harassment, exclusion and hate on people who don’t deserve it. Just because they ship something you don’t agree with doesn’t mean that you have the right to treat people badly.
For fucks sake man its just a ship.
Shipping does not mean that you automatically support something that happens in real life.
having to battle many prisoners in order to survive must be tough, and every single night you have those nightmares, and in those nightmares there would be one hand, then two, then three. its to the point where you lose count on all those beings that you have fought in the arena. reaching out to you. you will never be able to go back and undo what you have done, and even though they have lost those battles against you, they know only one place they can reach you and hurt you, not physically, but mentally. and those are in your dreams turning them into NIGHTMARES
hell yeah, im not one that does sad, little stories but hey, one can try riiiight ?? lol im actually proud on how this one turned out .3.
i just got out of work and im tired.
although i highly doubt Kuro would have a nice fluffy pillow and some blankets