adding both parts)
Eras: Post-Hogwarts, EWE, Hogwarts 8th year (basically there’s a year gap between the end of the war and the beginning of their second 7th year at Hogwarts)
Warnings/Content: In the words of the author; “character death (minor, but important to a main character;
see end of work for more clarification), nods towards PTSD for a range
of characters, and teenage boys saying dumb things about bisexuality.”
Summaries: Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly
ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had
been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”
Several years, several Christmases, several children.
Comment: So. I’ve kind of have a super long list that I named, being very original always, FICS TO READ ASAP. The thing is, I’m still working on the ASAP bit, mostly because the list is full of fics that I already know I will adore and cherish until the day I die, and I want to be ~in the perfect mood~ when I finally read them so I can fully appreciate them. Odd reason, maybe, but still a very valid one. Right? Anyway, I’ve been blabbling about this because Such Great Heights is one of those fics. I feel like it’s been on The List for ages, and I finally got around to sit down, take a deep breath, and start reading it. Needless to say, I fell in love right away.
It’s got… pretty much everything I ever dreamed of, to be honest. Harry being surrounded by all his friends right after the war and just, taking a break from all the chaos, the lot of them living together in Grimmauld Place and making it their home, platonic bed sharing between the golden trio (<333!!!), GORGEOUS characterisations of literally everyone I still cry about it, a DRAGON, I KID YOU NOT, and so much more. The dialogues were SO GOOD that sometimes I thought I was genuinely watching it all happen instead of just reading about it. Actually, scratch that, the writing style in itself kept me breathless and gagging for more all throughout the story. I fell in love right along the characters, I cried with them, I was happy with them, I felt relieved with them, and not just for them. This fic—it’s why I love Harry and Draco so much. It’s them.
I’m not going to talk about the sequel because a) you’ve probably noticed by now but I’m truly terrible at summaries, b) I don’t want to spoil anything and c) I’m still trying to recover from all of it, because yes, it’s very good, and yes, you should totally read it too.
There’s a pull under his breastbone. A tugging, but it’s not - it’s not coming from him, but it doesn’t feel foreign either. Derek concentrates on the sensation, the feeling, trying to pinpoint how and why and where this is coming from.
Thinking, he realizes that this isn’t the first time he’s felt this sort of phantom feeling. A phantom (At this point it can’t be defined as phantom for how clear it feels. It’s been getting sharper for a while…) feeling that’s never felt intrusive. The first time it happened - he doesn’t remember how long ago - it was a warming sensation in his abdomen, a gentle comfort somehow. It was odd, not because he was clearly feeling something that didn’t originate from him, but because it felt - it felt good. It felt right.
And that was that, really. It didn’t even happen often, nor did there seem to be a pattern behind what he felt, what he experienced. It was kind of random… Random.
Derek blinks and looks up at the nearly full moon that’s casting silver light through the canopy of trees in the preserve. He breathes in deep, letting the cool air pass through and clear his thoughts. Of course. Of course.
Derek’s known that Stiles has been, is his anchor and has been for some time now. He wasn’t surprised either, not with everything they’ve been through. Even when they couldn’t stand each other, they always came back didn’t they? Stiles always came back for him. Always.
It was so easy to accept Stiles as his anchor. If Derek’s being honest with himself, this is probably the strongest connection he’s ever felt, but for reasons he’s never quite allowed himself to fully analyze. And it seems he’s not the only one.
Derek remembers growing up being able to feel flashes and flickers of emotions from his pack, his first anchor. His mother had told him when he’d asked about it, that when there are strong feelings on both ends, a bond is formed. That made sense to Derek because his family is his pack, but. But shouldn’t he feel more than fleeting emotions, something more solid? His mother had just smiled, an understanding tilt to her lips, a mischievous glint to her eyes. “Yes, when you find the right one.”
“The right one, what?”
At 16, Derek thought he’d found his mate in a much older woman, despite never feeling any sort connection he’d grown up knowing, what his mother had taught him. But if he believed hard enough, waited, that could change couldn’t it? It had to because she loved him, didn’t she? Oh, she loved, but her love was a saturated hate that was only sated through death. Only humans could live in her world. There was no room for something more.
Derek clenches his jaw and blows out a sharp breath through his nose. The leaves barely crunch underneath his feet, quick and light, weaving through familiar trees. He continues running, just focusing on his breathing for a few minutes.
…Even at their first encounter, Derek had felt something, a pull towards Stiles, which he’d largely ignored, too caught up in new and old grief, anger that was so consuming for so long.
Now, Derek can’t even pinpoint when he’d let Stiles in. Perhaps he’d already had, that day in the woods without realizing it. Stiles, he has a way of getting under peoples skin without always meaning to.
At the start, Derek would have sneered at the idea of feeling anything for a flailing, spastic, too honest boy that’s always there. A boy that hasn’t been a boy in a long time, for many reasons. Stiles is - Stiles makes sense to him, as crazy as that may sound to others. Stiles is comforting and damnit, Stiles is home.
Derek puffs out a breath of laughter, at himself and at Stiles. They’ve been circling, circling, circling for so long and it’s ridiculous at this point. For a while, they just weren’t ready and that’s okay. They’ve both grown, needed to grow for themselves and for others; family, friends, pack. But now?
Derek has seen the side glances, the too long eye contact, the idle rubbing of long fingers on a pale collarbone, in the same spot Derek felt tonight. And Stiles is too smart to not figure it out as well, he’s too observant, always has been.
Through the peak of trees, Derek can see a faint light from a second floor bedroom window. Stiles is either still up or has fallen asleep in some uncomfortable position God knows where. Without thinking about it, Derek had been heading in that direction, an unconscious thought. And how long has he been doing that? Always pointed north isn’t he, always pointed towards his anchor.
A guy at a con once asked me if my boyfriend made my Captain America shield for me.
I make all my props and armor. And my Cap shields are a point of pride because of the amount of blood, sweat, and tears that went into them.
I hand cut the red one out of steel, promptly sliced my leg open on the sharp edge (don’t cut steel while wearing booty shorts, kids!), immediately hand filed it down, hand stripped the paint off of it and nearly broke down because it took 5 days of scrubbing, and finally hand painted it. Then I decided that since that was so much fun, I was going to make the blue Stealth Suit shield too. I decided to make it out of plastic, thinking it would save me some physical and emotional pain, but I still managed to burn my hand with molten plastic while power sanding the edges down (wear gloves and eye protection, kids!). So when someone asks me if a boy made them for me, I want to smack them upside the head with my scarred hand.
tl;dr my Cap shields nearly killed me and sometimes boys say dumb things to me at cons.
women are so damn sexy. like jesus christ, the curve from your neck to your shoulder is art. the arch in your back is pure magic. let me whisper in your ear all the things these dumb ass boys never think to say.