but since he's a jr. lord

6

Was he after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He didn’t say…

Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job,” said Dumbledore. “The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort.

Geoff: Well the answer is somewhere between Ray and Michael in the morning… Jack was the first one to notice since she wakes up at the ass crack of dawn but sometimes Ray and Michael would stretch together in the morning before Micheal hit the gym. It’s rare cause Ray doesn’t go to bed till the ass crack of dawn but since he does parkour hes actually pretty bendy.

Ryan: Humans shouldn’t be able to do that…..

Gavin: Can you like… pretzel yourself?…

Value and Worth, Chapter 4

Harry James Potter was a good Auror. At least, he was the only one within his rank to ever have taken down a Dark Lord at the age of seventeen.

Ron had done it as well of course, but since he had quit to help George out in the shop, Harry owned the title for himself. And, as a good Auror, Harry could sense the shift in mood at his workplace.

A select few of his colleagues had been assigned a new project—a secret project. One that prohibited them to disclose any or all information about their orders. This wasn’t unusual, he himself had been tasked with missions no one but his superiors and partner could learn. However, there was no denying that it was different this time, and what got Harry’s attention was the fact that these colleagues …sent him looks. Looks that differed from the regular ‘look it’s the Boy Who Lived!’ whispers they usually accompanied. 

Perhaps it was all due to Harry’s imagination, but Harry had been getting these new looks for a month. Which was approximately the same amount of time as Hermione had disappeared for her new research.

Interested? Read the rest here.

ilarual  asked:

Lifetime for SoMa?

So along with being the request of ilarual, this is also for kittenintheden, who requested the same prompt.  Prooooobably not what you two were thinking, and there will be a part two.

—-

Finding Sharkface:

Sometimes, Maka wondered what ever happened to Sharkface. That wasn’t really his name, of course, just what she’d called him when she was really mad at him, like she had been when he told her he was moving in a week. It was the summer before Jr. High, and he’d kissed her, and she’d punched him and run and never seen him again.

It still hurt, over a decade later.

They’d been best friends since preschool, inseparable. Sometimes they teased each other, annoyed each other, and lord knew they fought with each other, but deep down they had always, always loved each other. Maka would have told anyone who asked, then or now, that Soul was like the brother she had never wanted. Part of her knew that for the lie it was; that she still dreamed of that sweet childhood kiss, her first, told her it was probably something more, something she had thrown away before it ever had a chance, or maybe something life had destroyed. It made her heart ache to think of it, so she didn’t.

It was stupid. Soul was in her past, far in her past, a little boy lost. She had a life now, she had responsibilities, she didn’t have time to regret the silliness of her twelve year old self.

The night she looked him up on Facebook, Maka had been out drinking with Kim, Jackie, and Tsu, and had fended off no less than six horny idiots with beer goggles firmly in place. She was busy wondering how the hell she was going to manage to teach in the morning because she was that drunk which meant she would probably be that hungover as she stumbled into her apartment and opened up her laptop to double check her lesson plans. But her mind wandered, and she ended up on Facebook, and her mind wandered some more, and she wondered for the umpteenth time where he was and what he was doing because this was something she tended to do when she was drunk enough, and then she typed those two little words into the people search: Soul Evans.

Only one profile came up-who the hell named their kid Soul, anyway?-and of course it was him. His profile was public but sparse, just a snapshot and the occasional post about a performance. The white hair and red eyes of the man in the picture told her everything she needed to know, however, and damn it all if he wasn’t hot. The cute twelve year old had, unsurprisingly, grown into a smoking 22 year old; that wouldn’t be invading her dreams anytime soon, of course not.

Did he have a girlfriend? Fiance? Wife? Or-boyfriend even? Things can change a lot in a decade. Information on Soul’s page was limited-but it did say single. That was something. He was also practically scowling in the picture which hardly surprised her-he’d always been sullen, though she had always been able to draw out his rare smiles. Maka missed those smiles.

Holy hell, she was pining over a twelve year old ghost, a boy who had been replaced by the stranger in the picture. It was silly. Before she knew what she was doing, she clicked on the message button and the box popped up. Screw it. Here he was. Why not say hi? What was the worst that would happen-he wouldn’t remember her? He’d ignore her? He’d tell her to fuck off? She was a big girl; she could take it.

Hi Soul.

The name might throw you off-I use my Mom’s maiden last name on social media to be harder for my students to track-but this is Maka Albarn, not Maka Arakawa. I don’t really know if you remember me, but we used to be friends before you moved away from Death City. I was just wondering how you’re doing. Well, I hope!

I’d love to hear from you. It’s weird, and I hope you don’t find it creepy, but I really missed you when you left, and I still think about you. Okay, maybe that does sound creepy-it’s just, you really were my best friend.

Anyway-hope you’re having a nice life.

Love,

Maka

She pressed send before she could have second thoughts, and even still full of liquid courage, her stomach churned. That was probably stupid, right? Soul was far in her past-like her Mama and her pigtails and her ill advised Sailor Moon phase. It was probably better to let sleeping ghosts lie. Too late now.

He’d probably ignore her. At best, she wouldn’t hear back for hours or even days.

PING.

Maka blinked at her laptop. There was a new friend request on Facebook, along with a new message, both from someone named Soul Eater.

Who now? Could it be?

She clicked on the friend request, and a smirking image of Soul Evans stated back.

Soul Eater? What an utter dork. Figured.

She accepted the request and clicked on the message.

hey maka

course i remember u bookworm. i totally get using a fake name i do too. u messaged my professional profile, the one i keep to make the agent happy. this is the one i give to friends. r u still in death city?

Oh shit-oh shit-he remembered her and he’d messaged her back and he sounded-happy? Well, not unhappy, anyway. She should probably respond. But she was still drunk. Was it stupid to respond drunk? No more stupid than writing drunk.

Wow, Soul EATER? I’d ask, but I really don’t want to know. Yes I’m still in Death City. Where do you live now? Your other profile didn’t say.

She pressed send quickly, not wanting to second guess herself, trying to remind herself that whoever he had become, somewhere in there he was still Soul-had to be.

PING.

She didn’t hesitate to look at the new message.

betchu wanna know. might even find out one day if ur nice. I’m in LA now. kind of hate it, but if i want work i have to. stalked ur pics a bit. miss the pigtails. r u really a teacher? figures. if id had a teacher like u, i might have done better in english.

He was looking through her profile? Her stomach flipped as she clicked open Soul Eater’s profile. His profession was listed as Jazz Pianist, he did live in Los Angeles, he was still listed as single. There were a lot of pictures with a good looking black man, a few with two blonde girls. Her stomach clenched at that, until she saw another picture with the tall blonde and the same dark skinned man kissing next to an extremely flustered looking Soul. She noticed he smirked sometimes in the pictures, but he didn’t smile. He also didn’t post much-the pictures were mostly things he was tagged in by others, what posts there were mostly consisted of messages from others on his wall. She saw one from Wes about actually showing up for Christmas and smiled. Maybe some things never changed.

I’m really a teacher, yes. I’m glad you still play piano. I know you used to say you hated it, but you were always really good-and even if you hated how your parents acted, you loved music. Do you like being a jazz pianist? I’ll bet you’re really great! I’d love to hear you play!

As if she ever would now. Still, Maka pressed send. Her stomach was churning and she couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the alcohol, but with her mind feeling less foggy by the second, she suspected the former. Blair came up with a loud meow and she pet her absently, eyeing the message box, the churning in her stomach reaching nearly cataclysmic levels.

PING.

u were the only one i liked to play 4 back then. now i mostly just play for myself, but id love to play 4 u again. ive been thinking about coming back to dc for a long time but i wasnt sure. its only 5 hours. i really missed it.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She had just found him and now he was talking about coming-here? About missing it here?

Hand shaking subtly, she typed a response.

I’d really like that. Everyone here really missed you. You could stay with me if you want-I have an extra room in my apartment.

She sent it, and it felt like her heart was going to explode out of her chest. Why had she offered that, to stay with her? He was a stranger. Except he wasn’t, how could he be? Even now, so many years later, he still felt like her best friend. He always had, even when he was long gone.

PING.

won’t ur boyfriend get mad?

Maka frowned at the screen. What now? Oh-OH. Yeah, that.

I don’t have a boyfriend. I just put that to keep pervs away. Single girls get messaged by all the creeps.

The response was almost instantaneous.

PING.

thats good. but how do u know im not a perv?

Laughing, she typed a response quickly.

You were always a perv, but I know you know I can kick your ass, so I’m not worried.

It was strange how it felt just like ten years ago, yet nothing like ten years ago. It did funny things to her insides.

PING.

dont i fucking know it. took a week for the last black eye to heal. u had a mean right hook even at 12.

Her heart froze. That had been the worst day of her life.

I’m sorry about that. I was upset. You shouldn’t have done that.

She was sober now, stone cold sober, and the sick feeling in her stomach and in her chest made her skin crawl.

There was a long pause. Maka thought she might lose her dinner. Her hand on Blair’s fur became restless.

PING.

She hesitated to click the message, fear clawing at her soul. She was being ridiculous; it was just a message, and he was just a boy from her past.

The only boy from her past who had ever really mattered.

i know i was a fucking idiot. i didnt know what else to do. i was just a scared kid and about to lose. doesnt matter. im sorry. ill make it up 2 u when i visit ok?

Her heart was still drumming in her chest, but she didn’t feel quite as sick.

Yeah, okay. I really missed you. Did you know that was my first kiss? Stupid, right? Anyway, I’m glad you want to visit. I really am.

She figured she may as well tell the truth. They weren’t children anymore, and it was easier, so far away, so far from when she’d last seen him, to lay herself bare. She wouldn’t punch him to hide her feelings; she wouldn’t lash out. Not here and not now. She couldn’t if she wanted to-he was just words on a screen.

PING.

mine too. m glad too. i was thinking i could visit this weekend. r u free? id really really like to see you again. if its ok.

Oh gods oh god oh god he wanted to come in less than a week? Was she ready for that? What the hell had she done?

Of course it’s okay, stupid Sharkface! I really need to get to bed, I have to teach in the morning, but my number is 555-555-4264. You can text me with details-I’ll give you my address. What day were you thinking about coming? I’ll try to plan a few things. I could maybe even get some of our old friends to come over one day, or we could meet them if you want. Or-well-if you’d rather stay somewhere else, that’s okay, too, I’d understand.

Shit, she was rambling. Why was she so nervous? It was just a visit, she had five days to prepare herself, it would be fine. It just seemed so-fast after so long, and she was in knots.

PING.

friday night if its ok dont have a gig this weekend. definitely rather stay with u bookworm rather just stick with u 2 if its ok can catch others another time. dont need to make plans just wanna hang out if thats cool?

He just wanted to see her. He just wanted to see her. Her heart was racing again. She didn’t know what it meant. She knew what she wanted it to mean, but she quashed that thought because it was ridiculous. She didn’t even know him, not anymore. Why was she acting like a twelve year old with a stupid crush?

Then again, she supposed, in a very real way, that’s what she was. Maybe that’s what they both were.

That’s totally cool. I’ll see you Friday, Soul. Goodnight.

She didn’t wait for his reply, just closed her laptop and trudged to her room, stripping down to dive in her bed and try to calm her ridiculously rapid heart rate.

A minute later, she got a text.

see u friday maka. night.

The deep sigh she let out as she put down her phone was a reflex. Excitement buzzed through her veins, fear, nervousness. She felt sick and dizzy and elated.

Five days. In five days, for the first time in a decade, she would see her best friend, the boy she had loved and lost before she had even known what love was.

On Friday, one way or another, everything would change.