cobblestone alley

Image finding Teddy Lupin lost in a crowd in Daigon Alley

Gif not mine. 

Pairing: Remus x Reader

Summary: You are a local shop keeper on a supply run when you stumble upon a small, sobbing child trying to find his father.

Warning: Slight AU where Tonks dies in the war but Remus lived.

The streets of Diagon Alley were overflowing today, teeming with excited children and stressed parents as they made their way down the cobblestone alley, attempting to complete their school shopping for the upcoming year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You yourself were merely on a simple errand, the bakery that you owned was almost out of a few supplies that you would have to run to a muggle store to retrieve.

As you made your way down the alley way, your ears perked at the sound of what seemed to be a child crying. Concerned, you followed the sound until you made your way to the ice cream shop, where you spotted a small boy with blue hair huddled under a table, no parent in sight, balling his eyes out.

Slowly you made your way over to him, as no one else seemed to have noticed him, and grabbed the rim of the green table, using it to swing yourself below it and sit crisscrossed before the small sobbing child.

Beaming, you asked, “Why ya crin’?”

The child looked up, startled.

“I-I I lost my daddy!” he said through a wall of tears.

“Aww,” you cooed. “It’s going to be ok, is blue your favorite color?”

You motioned to his hair, the boy whipped his tears with the end of his sleeve and nodded, his lip trembling as his stared at you.

“Blue is a nice color,” you mused, “Want to know what my favorite color is?”

The blue haired boy nodded, his small fauxhawk bouncing up and down as he did so.

With a quick motion, you slipped your hair from its ponytail, shaking it wildly about, during the chaotic motion, your normally (h/c) hair bean to turn a vibrant shade of pink. You looked up at the boy and smiled mischievously at him, while he, in turn, looked back at you in awe.

“You, you’re like me!” he said, eyes lighting up while the tears stopped streaming from his eyes. You bobbed your head up and down excitedly.

“I’ve never met another one like me before,” you grinned.

“Me either!” he cried. Then, he looked up, a perplexed expression crossing his small face. “Well, my mommy was like me. But she went away.”

You attempted to not let a concerned expression cross your face. Kids say strange things.

“Well, I have an idea on how to find your Da then, we can do it together!”

The boy’s eyes brightened. “Okay!”

“Okay,” you started. “SO your Da knows your favorite color is blue right?”

The child nodded.

“So, I’ll turn my hair the exact same blue as yours, and you can ride on my back, that way your dad will see all the blue and notice us!”

He smiled eagerly, “That’s a good plan!” he cheered.

“I thought so too,” you beamed holding your index finger up while smiling smugly. You hoisted yourself up off the ground and held out your hand.

“Oh, I’m (Y/N), by the way, what’s your name?” You asked quizzically.

“I’m Teddy Lupin,” he smiled up at you as he put his itty bitty hand in yours and let you hoist him up from under the table.

“That’s a very nice name,” you complemented.

An adorable name. Teddy.

“Thank you! Now turn your hair blue like mine!” Teddy jumped up and down a few times, his eyes large as he watched you eagerly.

Chuckling, you shook your head once more, locks of pink hair flying all around until they settled into the same shade of blue that covered Teddy’s own head. You could hear the child laughing in delight, small hands clapping together. You grinned as you tucked your now wild hair behind your ears to get it out of your face.

“Now, I think we stand out pretty well, what do you think, Teddy?”

“Yes! Let go find my daddy,” he cheered. Grinning beside yourself, you bent down and allowed him to climb atop your back so he was riding piggy back.

“Okay, now you let me know if you see your daddy up there. Do you know his name?”

“My daddy’s name is Remus, at least that’s what Uncle Harry calls him,” Teddy said thoughtfully.

The name didn’t ring a bell, but you hadn’t expected it to, to be honest. You were an American witch, having only moved here a few months prior to date to open up the first British branch of your grandfathers bakery, Kowalski’s.

You began making your way through the bustle of the Alley, a few passerby giving you and Teddy odd looks, but you ignored them as you searched through the crowd, looking for a flustered single father, from above you, you could feel Teddy rest his chin on your head, likely tired from the crying he had done previously.

“Mr. Lupin,” you called, using a single hand cupped around the side of your mouth. The other was placed under Teddy’s knees, making sure he didn’t slip from your back.

“I don’t see him, (Y/N),” Teddy whined from above you.

“We’ll find him,” you reassure as you make your way down the street towards Magical Menagrie’s. Teddy didn’t remember where he was when he lost his Da, only that he had been distracted and that he let go of his hand and was swept away in the crowd. He hadn’t known how long he’d been crying either, there under the table were he’d managed to escape the current of shoppers.

“Hmm, if only there was a lost and found here,” you mused.

“You’d leave me in a box?!” Teddy accused.

Laughter tumbled from your mouth, “Well when you put it like that it sounds ba-”

“Teddy!” a voice called from the crowd. Your head whipped around towards the sound of the voice, blue hair flying dramatically, (e/c) eyes scanning the crowd until they fell on a man waving his hands frantically.

“There!” Teddy cried, “That’s my daddy!”

“On it!” you nodded, determination set in your face. You marched out into the street, using your wand to usher some people along and out of your way so it would be easier to reach the father known as Remus.

“Daddy!” Teddy cried as you reached the man. You bent down, allowing him to slip from your back and stumble towards the older man excitedly to hug him. Remus hoisted the child up, hugging him tightly.

“I was so worried,” you hear him mumble into Teddy’s hair. You smiled softly, a feeling of warmth spreading through your chest as the father and son were reunited.

“I was too,” Teddy said, smiling, “Then (Y/N) found me!” he wiggled out of his father’s grasp and ran over to you, grabbing the hem of your tee-shirt and dragging you over to his father.

Remus was older than you, you’d say about 5-10 years or so, but he was still quite handsome, even with the few scars that decorated his face, you briefly wondered how he acquired them before your attention was snatched up by Teddy.

“Daddy, look what me and (Y/N) can do!”

Practically vibrating with excitement, Teddy began to wildly shake his head like you as he had his hair turn pink. Then, he looked to you with expecting eyes. You giggled, shaking your hair has you had done before, sending the already messy locks fling about once more, you loved the dramatic effect, but now your pink hair was going to take a while to get under control again.

Remus looked in-between the two of you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“See daddy, (Y/N) is just like me! ‘Sept her favorite color is pink.”

“Well that is very interesting,” Remus said, bending down on one knee to be eye level with his son. “And whose idea was it to turn both of your hair blue?”

“Oh, it was “(Y/N)’s, she’s REALLY smart. Did you see it from far, far away?”

“I surly did, it was a brilliant plan, Ms. (Y/N), thank you for helping us,” he turned his green eyes on you, and you could see the appreciation swimming in them.

“It was no trouble at all,” you bounced on your heels, smiling as you held your finger up, a habit you had picked up from reading too much muggle manga. It started off as a joke that was now your reality. “In fact, we had a lot of fun.”

Teddy bobbed his head up and down beside his Da. “She’s like me.” He repeated, a broad smile on his face. Then his eyes widened, a smirk made its way to his lips before he leaned over to his father to whisper something in his ear, which caused the older man’s cheeks to flush.

“Teddy,”… “We don’t even know”… “she helped me” …“like me”…”not ready”…”fine” were only a few snippets of whispers you could hear from where you were, and no, you were not eavesdropping- you just hadn’t been dismissed yet.

Finally, after a secret meeting that Teddy seemed to have won, Remus rose you his feet, smiling kindly at you.

“How would you like- if you aren’t too busy that is- to join us for dinner tonight? To show you our thanks? Teddy would like to have his aunt Molly make you his favorite pie, he thinks you’d rather enjoy it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said awkwardly.

“Nonsense,” Remus started.

“Please (Y/N)!” Teddy begged.

“It’s honestly the least we can do,” Remus finished, offering you a warm smile. Your heart skipped a beat and you fought the urge to blush.

“Sure, why not?” You grinned.

A look of relief passed over the older Lupin’s face at your agreement.

“How does six sound?”

“Six sounds perfect,” you smile.

Remus gives you his address and thanks you once more, whilst Teddy hugs your leg and tells you that he can’t wait for dinner. You watch the pair of them walk off hand in hand into the sea of witches and wizards, a small smile gracing your face, a suddenly, you couldn’t wait for dinner.

March 17th, 2017
      // cobblestone alley

It’s raining.

Italy, Faron has discovered, has a preoccupation with umbrellas and rain. As well as siestas- at first glance nothing seems open enough for him to duck in and order a coffee, not even to simply browse for the time being in attempt to avoid the inescapable torrent. Rain in Italy is a paltry word for the downpours that arrive- heavier than the rain in Russia, thicker and more tepid, falling with greater force on his shoulders.

In the meantime unable to find an open establishment, he finds himself under a shop cover, taking shelter from the indomitable rain in front of a ‘closed’ sign, peeling and green behind the glass window it’s leaning against.

“No umbrella?” He asks wryly, glancing at the- familiar- young woman who has joined him, standing under the slats that form some kind of cover for the shuttered shop behind the duo.

anonymous asked:

What kind of favors did Percy have to pull to keep his family off the watch list...?

Percy had to work his ass off to keep his family safe during the war. 

His days at the Ministry were long and tiring, thankless and endless. He gleans as much information as possible from everyone as a fly on the wall that no one explicitly trusts or distrusts. He listens to everybody and everything, and trades intel, files, safe passage, Aunt Muriel’s goblin-made heirlooms, time off, sometimes his body - whatever he has, or can conceivably get, to keep his family safe.  He comes in early, stays late, takes the messiest projects, the longest paperwork, and the dirtiest jobs.

He does a fair bit of bluffing, too - politicking and lying and disgusting himself by exploiting everything his father had taught him was wrong with the system, justifying with gruesome images of what would happen if he stopped. (His mother, crying in an empty shell of a childhood home. His father, on trial by the Wizangamont, no one letting him speak. Bill accused of fraternization with goblin revolutions. Charlie never permitted to come back to Wizarding England. Ron, unceremoniously slain. Fred and George being pulled out of their shop, tortured on the Diagon Alley cobblestones - Ginny never returning home from Hogwarts –

Death Eaters, Order members, and those who aren’t aligned with either side become not people, but opportunities for Percy. He feels like a Slytherin the whole time, but he knows that the burning fear in his temples and the fact that he’s abandoning his own safety on the slightest chances for his familys’ - he’s still a Gryffindor.

It’s a stressful two years, but he does it sucessfully. And it makes all his years at the Ministry after the war seem easy by comparison - he’s no longer bargaining for anyone’s life. Just for tax reform. And funding for projects. And a new intern program. It’s easy. 

Gamla Stan - Stockholm, Sweden 

The Old Town of Stockholm, Gamla Stan, is one of the largest and best preserved medieval city centers in Europe. It is where Stockholm was founded in 1252, on the island of Stadsholmen. Many of the cobblestone streets and alleys in Gamla Stan are car free, creating an idyll environment to walk around and explore the city’s shops, restaurants and city squares. 

The most important landmark in Gamla Stan is the Royal Palace, that has over 600 rooms. Other landmarks of interest include Stockholm Cathedral, and the Alfred Nobel museum. 

Ecstasy (X men x reader) Part 2

Part 1

SERIES WARNINGS: Strip club, language, sexual assault, angst, mentions of abuse, eventual fluff, eventual smut, underage drinking, underage sex, possible trigger warnings.

THIS PART WARNINGS: attempted sexual assault, fighting, gun (briefly).

Platonic Ships - Charles x reader, Jean x reader, Erik x reader, Raven x reader, Ororo x reader, Moira x reader.
Non-Platonic Ships ;) - Hank x reader, Scott x reader, Peter x reader, Jubilee x reader, Warren x reader, mentioned Alex x reader, Jean x Scott, Moira x Charles.

A.N: Got this idea from a post by @goawayimreadingbeach you can find the post here. Please tell me what you think! This is my first series so don’t be afraid to be too critical!

Words: 1244

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Is it true that Katowice has the most murders in Poland? And other crime...

Ive been in katowice 4 times in my entire life and from what ive seen from all the shady fucking cobblestone alleys it looks like murderville

anonymous asked:

“You’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there’s only, like, five people around and I’m getting vry suspicious” Drarry pls oh pls

The first time is a Ministry event to commemorate the one year anniversary after the death of Voldemort.  Harry grouses for a month before the celebration.  Ron and Hermione both have heard his complaints so frequently that they can practically recite it word for word back to him.

It isn’t something that should be celebrated.  It is something that should be remembered.

The night of, Harry is in formal dress robes, and Rita Skeeter is stalking him about for arriving completely stag.  He keeps trying to get lost in the crowd, and successfully manages it, before he nearly runs headlong into Draco Malfoy and his mother.

“Mr. Potter,” Narcissa blinks at him, smile tight but somehow more welcoming than most of the handshakes and embraces of the many Ministry officials lingering about the place.  “What a pleasant surprise.”

Harry dips his head, more than polite.  “I didn’t realize the both of you would be in attendance.”

Something tightens around Narcissa’s eyes, and Draco’s mouth presses into a thin line, before Harry quickly stumbles to correct himself.

“That’s not to say it’s not nice to see you,” he glances over his shoulder, aware that the longer he stays in a single spot, the more likely it is for Rita to track him down and corner him for an interview.  “I just meant that—Well, with everything—“

“Thanks to you, Mr. Potter, both Draco and I have been more than welcome in many places,” Narcissa says and there’s genuine gratitude in her tone, but a certain pride about her.  “Including my sister’s.”

Harry instantly perks.  “You’ve been to see Andromeda recently?”

“And Teddy,” Narcissa nods.  “We had tea just last week.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry smiles, though it is almost instantly lost when he sees Rita worming her way through the crowd.  “Unfortunately you’ll have to excuse me.”

It’s Draco that sees the Prophet reporter when he glances over his shoulder.  He mutters something to his mother, who just nods with an air of sagaciousness before gesturing the two of them off.  

Harry is startled by the hand he finds on his arm, as well as with the way Draco pulls him further into the mingling crowds of witches and wizards.  Even once they’ve escaped, Rita somewhere caught up in conversation with the ever elegant Mrs. Malfoy, Draco doesn’t remove his hand where it is gripping Harry’s elbow loosely.  

“What are you doing?” Harry frowns; they aren’t on rough terms, but they aren’t exactly friends these days.  

“Helping you get away,” Draco casts a glance down at him. “Or would you rather be accosted?”

Harry wisely doesn’t argue, especially when Draco starts leading them to a crystal punch bowl; Harry’s parched after all.  “You don’t have to keep hold of me.”

“You’d be swallowed up in this crowd in an instant,” Draco shakes his head, and Harry knows it’s a comment on his more than rather short stature.

He bites his cheek and doesn’t argue.  

Harry isn’t exactly sure how he ends up spending so many of his afternoons with Draco the summer that follows, but he does.  They frequently end up out for tea or for lunch, or some combination therein, talking about all it is that they’ve done since the war has ended and the trials—which Harry was a prominent figure in, defending who needed it, and persecuting those that deserved it—were over.

As it turns out, after scoring rather well on his NEWTS, Draco had been studying for his Healer apprenticeship.  There was a hefty amount of research, from what Harry came to understand, and Draco spent most of his time with books than with patients.  

Harry had traveled.  He’d gone so stir crazy after everything had finished.  Wanderlust, Hermione had called it, and he’d ended up traveling about until his feet couldn’t carry him any further.  Draco liked hearing about the places he’d been, the things he’d seen, and Harry liked hearing about the things that had been going on at home, from a source that wasn’t Ron or Hermione.

“There was this great market place,” Harry tells him as they walk down the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley, heading for a café just past the broom shop.  “In Thailand. You went through it on a boat. The whole thing was on water.”

Draco snorts, dodging a young girl deftly.  “Even the shops?”

“Especially the shops,” Harry nods, and has to pause as he moves around a small family of what are obviously muggles with their young child, gawking in awe at all of what is around them as the precocious boy reads off his school list to who might be his mother.  “They sold fish, you see.  Some of them cooked it, right there, in their little boats on the water.  Freshest thing I’ve ever had.”

Draco reaches for him, taking Harry’s arm and linking it with his own.  “Sounds… interesting.”

For a moment, Harry is too busy staring at where his hand is resting at the crook of Draco’s elbow, but he blinks up at him from behind his spectacles and laughs when he sees Draco wrinkle his nose.  “Just because you don’t like fish–”

“Took your time about it,” Draco grumbles as Harry steps out the front door of Grimmauld Place and trots down the steps to stand at his side. “We’re going to be late.”

“I thought you didn’t care about punctuality,” Harry rolls his eyes, a bit fond, and falters when Draco takes Harry’s hand and loops it through his arm.  “Are we Apparating?”

“What?” Draco scowls, already pacing away from the old Black estate and heading down the sidewalk.  “No, of course not.  Too many muggles about.”

Harry gives a pointed squeeze to Draco’s forearm as he pads along next to him.  “Then what’s with this?”

“I’ve told you this a dozen times,” Draco huffs.  “You’re too short.  You’ll get—“

“There’s no crowd here, Draco.” Harry says.

And he’s right.  The streets are empty.  

“Oh,” there is color in Draco’s cheeks; he moves as if to pull away.

Harry stops him.  “It’s alright.  I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not,” Harry’s grin is a wicked thing.  “You just don’t want to lose me.”

Draco never denies it.

Send me a thing and I’ll do a thing.

Or send me a thing and I’ll do a thing. 


Scorose drabble #1

Scorpius cast a furtive look around the shop, which was teeming with teenaged witches and their mothers. “Mate, we are so outnumbered here.”

“Why is it that every time we go out with Rose, we end up being dragged along on her little shopping adventures?” Albus grumbled defeatedly.

“Scorpius, come here! Look how cute this bra is!” Rose’s voice floated out to where Al and Scorpius were standing.

He walked dutifully over to where she was motioning excitedly, holding up a pale pink bra edged with lace.

“Yeah, I like it,” He agreed.

“Or do you like the blue one better?” She asked, grabbing the matching one from the hangers and observing both with a thoughtful expression.

“For you?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Hmm.” He appraised Rose critically, eyeing her up and down before examining the bras in her hands. “Blue. Definitely blue.”

Keep reading


crooked kingdom /// inej ghafa // dunyasha

Inej’s foot caught the edge of one of the metal scrolls, and then she understood. She didn’t have her opponent’s training or education or fine white clothes. She would never be as ruthless and she could not wish to be. But she knew this city inside out. It was the source of her suffering and the proving ground for her strength. Like it or not, Ketterdam—brutal, dirty, hopeless Ketterdam—had become her home. And she would defend it. She knew its rooftops the way she knew the squeaky stairs of the Slat, the way she knew the cobblestones and alleys of the Stave. She knew every inch of this city like a map of her heart.