Arthur catches them in the shed when she is pregnant with Rose.
They arrived a few minutes earlier and were supposed to head to the house but someone seemed to be horny and had grabbed his hand, determinately leading him towards the shed.
“Not that I’m complaining you know, but what did I do?” Ron manages to say in between kisses and gasps of air.
She flushes even more, he groans at the sight.
“I- I don’t know… After we Apparated I- I looked at you and y- you were out of breath and your hair was all over the place and I- I-” She’s trying to catch her breath too, her chest rising fast under his gaze. Her hair is uncontrollable, cheeks red and he perfectly understands what happened. He grabs her hips and slams her body against his and she moans in his mouth in reply. He can feel the soft swell of her burgeoning stomach against him and his knees tremble under the overwhelming rush of love and pride washing through him.
He needs to feel more of her, to have her closer.
His lifts her up on the table and her legs wrap around his hips easily. His hands sneak under her dress as he hears the shed’s door creak.
“Erhm. I- Sorry. Didn’t mean to- I was looking for… Erhm-” Arthur stutters before becoming suddenly highly interested with the shed’s ceiling.
Hermione buried her face in his neck as soon as she heard the door, meanwhile he’s still staring at his father like a deer caught in headlights.
A very brightly red deer.
They’re married for heavens sake. His wife is pregnant. It’s not like his father thinks this baby came from magical apparition.
Finally after an awkward long silent minute, Hermione seems to be the most composed of the three of them, she lifts her head and clears her throat.
“Tell Molly we’ll be there in a minute.”
When they get inside, he’s certain George is smirking and Ron’s gaze instantly shifts towards his father. He is trying far too much not look at him and Hermione.
He sighs and looks at his brother. “You heard us Apparate didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Ronniekin,” George replies a little too sincerely, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You sure you’re having a girl Hermione,” he then asks, glancing at Hermione, all too amused still.
“Yes, why?” She frowns and Ron groans internally.
He’s not sure what his brother has under his sleeve but he’s sure as hell Hermione won’t like it.
“Well, it’s just that pregnant women are usually, you know, hornier, when they’re expecting a boy.”
And there it is.
”George!” Angelina and Molly tuts indignantly in unison. The older woman ends up also slapping a half-coughing half-laughing Arthur on the arm.
Harry looks like he always does in these situations, like he’d rather be somewhere else. And Ginny is giggling by his side.
Surprisingly, Hermione raises her chin up and sits calmly at the diner table. George wiggles his eyebrows towards them at the end of the table, and Ron isn’t sure he understands what just happened.
That is until he catches sight of Hermione’s wand under the table. She’s always been the best at nonverbal spells. He smirks as he puts his hand on her knee under the table, giving her his approval. Not that she needs it.
George never learns. Never ever mess with Hermione. And since she’s been pregnant, her magic has been a little more intense.
He glances at his wife, a small smile dancing on her lips. This diner has gotten way more interesting.
“They say that [Abba Theon] used to go out of his cell at night and stay in the company of the wild animals, giving them drink from the water he had. Certainly one could see the tracks of antelopes and wild asses and gazelles and other animals near his hermitage. These creatures always gave him pleasure.” Paradise of the Desert Fathers
“You don’t plan on staying here, do you?” Sam asked
with a knowing look on his face.
“Hell no.” you replied.
“Go. We’ll be fine.” Sam said. You nodded and walked
out of the barn directly to the house.
You entered the house through the basement door and
pulled out your flashlight. “Gross.” You whispered as you looked at all the
jars in the room that were full of various body parts. You glanced to the next
wall and saw Dean, examining a wall full of Polaroids.
Hey, I really enjoy your SPN metas. I was curious about your view on the W. brothers' childhood. Or, about one specific detail about it, anyways - I agree the rest is canon or implied through the characters' actions throughout the show. How do you know John was an alcoholic? I've seen many interpretations, but as far as I've heard he's never been seen drinking on the show. Is it your (and many others') headcanon or do you know something for real? Please tell :)
Hey - again, thanks for your question - I apologize if I couldn’t get on it right away. So, the truth is - I love writing fanfiction, and I do enjoy writing metas as well, but I haven’t been in the fandom very long (and never knew what belonging to a fandom even meant until last year) and trying to do some research into this question really reminded me of that. Because, I have to admit, I never even thought about this issue, but apparently there is a fierce, brutal divide between people who see John as an abusive drunk in canon and people who don’t - and this divide seems to run, rather neatly, along the fault line of that other split in our fandom (which means, quite honestly, that most of what I read about John today I simply can’t take very seriously).
No, I think it all boils down to - once again - what we do with our subtext. Do we see it? Do we believe it? Do we think it’s there for a reason?
If the answer to those questions is no, then John is - sort of alright. Sure, he did leave his boys alone now and then, and Sam and Dean didn’t have the easiest relationship with him, but we never saw him drunk or violent on screen, and that’s that.
“I hope this will comfort the
little family during the ‘cold’ Christmas days. – Liz. Oh my god please
tell me she didn’t.” Even if his voice sounded worried he was still smiling
brightly after reading the card and opened the small present his mum had left
while you had been out grocery shopping. Looking over at his direction while
holding William to your chest you walked over to stand beside him. “Oh my, is
that freaking Christmas sweaters?” “It’s not just Christmas sweaters.” He responded
and held one up, “It’s ugly Christmas sweaters.” Taking a step back he threw it
over his head easily over his t-shirt, looking down with a huge laugh by the Christmas
tree that was printed on with eyes and a wide smile. “Your mum and her ideas.”
You sighed while looking at him, really wanting to hold in the laugh but you
just couldn’t. “Hey you have to wear yours as well. I doubt William can wear
his yet but we can just wrap it around him like a blanket.” Without barely
getting the chance to blink Luke had taken William out of your arms and wrapped
him up in the mini sweater, his eyes wide. You sighed deeply but regardless
took the sweater, threw it over your head and didn’t even care if you messed up
your bun completely. You almost wanted to protest when Luke grabbed his phone
and opened snapchat, already preparing for a smile but you wanted to back away.
“Get over yourself gorgeous, we need to show the pretty side of the Hemmings
family.” He winked down at you and nodded for you to lean against his chest
while he still held William. “Just a small teaser for my mum so she can
actually prepare for what she has given us!”
“I’m not gonna wear this.” He stated the second his eyes laid on the
sweater in your hands, already backing away from your newborn plan. “Calum you
haven’t even tried it on!” You scolded, folding out the sweater completely and
showed it in front of your body. You could see that the way he was looking at
you was in pure ridiculousness, and he seemed to consider whether or not to
leave. “I’m not wearing ugly matching sweaters Y/N.” “You agreed on that the
second you asked me to marry you!” Silence fell upon the tour bus by your
statement, smirking up at Calum with a satisfied smile because you knew he
wouldn’t be able to argue at this. “Please do give me an actual reason to wear
this sweater because I know I will look completely ridiculous in it.” You
opened your mouth about to answer but that was when Luke came into sight from
the front entrance, having Alex in his arms who were wearing the exact same
sweater as you. “Because I mean come on Cal look at how cute he looks right
now. Do it for us.” Calum looked between you and Alex with a deep sigh
followed, an excited cheer coming from you when he headed towards you and took
the sweater. And he still didn’t look that convinced when wearing it, looking
down at his long body before looking over at you. “Satisfied?” He questioned
but couldn’t stop smiling when he looked between you and Alex who had now been
passed over to your arms, it was like seeing himself as a mini self. And even
if the sweaters looked completely ridiculous and Luke was holding in fits of
laughter he still didn’t stop smiling, placing his lips on top of yours for a
”Y/N you have to see what I’ve
bought for us!” You stopped in track of blowing onto the small plastic spoon
you had in your hands, Celeste sitting in her baby chair waiting impatiently
for you to serve her the porridge. Michael chanted while coming fully into the
kitchen, a white bag in his hand and he literally threw it on top of the
kitchen counter to show you what he had brought. Confusion was written on your
face while looking at the black, red and green fabric, too concentrated on him
to even make sure to feed Celeste and she hysterically made a sound of protest.
“Do I even wanna know-,” “Yes, you will.” He interrupted and folded out the
fabric so you could see what it actually was. When seeing the massive reindeer
sewed on your eyes widened and no’s started to be repeated from your mouth.
“Michael, I am not wearing that!” “Why not?” He was quick to exclaim, “I’ve
even bought one for each of us. There’s mommy deer, father deer and baby deer!”
It was a luck that you had feed Celeste until she was satisfied because after
Michael had put on his own he lifted her up from her baby chair and placed her
on the counter. You had expected her to whine but she only looked up at her
father pretty curious to why she was interrupted during her lunch. Even if the
sweater was insanely ugly, you couldn’t not stop smiling and look down at her
ever so cutely. “Well at least I don’t have to worry about her spilling her
porridge now.” You teasingly grinned and kissed her on the cheek, lifting her
up and placed her back on the baby chair but not without looking over your
shoulder to see Michael letting out a deep scoff.
“Remind me again why we’re during this.” You deeply sighed while looking
into your reflection in the mirror, taking a look down at the sweater and met
Ashton’s eyes in the mirror. “Because this will be freaking awesome and you
know it! I mean, look at the twins! How do you even find a Christmas sweater
size that fits on them like these do and they are supposed to be meant for five
month babies!” His voice was filled with excitement as he looked down between
Cloe and Zack resting on your mattress, looking up at him while he spoke to
you. “And besides… We’ve promised mum that we would send out a Christmas card
after getting married.. And that’s almost two years ago Y/N. She will be
thrilled when she sees the twins dressed up just like us, it will be the best
payback ever!” You weren’t that impressed by his speech while looking down at
the shirt. It was ugly, it almost couldn’t even be described but Ashton was so
happy about the whole situation. He had made sure to hang up a camera on the
kitchen counter so it made sure you had your tree in the background and the
only thing left would be to take the picture. The faster it would be, the
faster you would be able to get out of it even if you knew Ashton would
continue to wear this for the rest of the day. “Smile, beautiful.” He encouraged
when pressing on the timer, holding Cloe in his arms while you held Zack. You
had no idea whether or not they were looking at the picture but after taking
the picture and seeing what it looked like you couldn’t stop smiling. It was
cute, gorgeous and definitely worth a Christmas postcard.
I really like your Meeting as Children AU! I can only imagine the mischief Jamie and Claire would get into as children! I would love to see that in a continuation. Thank you!
Anonymous asked: I loved the story with Claire and Jamie as kids! Imagine them as teens and the boys from Lallybroch start hitting on Claire and Jamie gets really jealous.
anonymous asked: Can you lovely ladies continue the prompt with Claire and Jamie meeting
as children. Like fast forward to where she has now lived with them for a
bit or something? Either way this fluff was cute.
The years passed. Seasons came and went, crops were planted and harvested,
rents were earned and paid. Claire settled in to farm life at Lallybroch,
adjusted as best she could to living in the 18th century, and even learned how
to use herbs and heal wounds from the always-kind Grannie MacNab.
Claire, Jenny, and Jamie finished their schooling one by one; Jenny began
courting the bashful but determined Ian Murray. Jamie spent more and more time
with Brian, learning the way of running a farm and managing tenants. As
Claire’s knowledge and skill as a healer grew, she ventured further and further
from Lallybroch to tend to needy tenants - and even attended a few births.
on this remote Highland farm, so far removed from the world she’d been born
into - Claire Beauchamp had found her calling. Her family. Her true home. Yes,
there were holes that could never be filled again – Uncle Lamb, the things she’d
left behind, the conveniences of modern life, the advances of modern medicine –
but the Frasers, and Lallybroch, had given her much more than she’d ever
the age of twenty-two, she felt complete. But to many, she wasn’t – because she
was still unmarried.
wasn’t that Claire lacked male attention. On the contrary, despite her being a
Sassenach – and the whispers shared behind the backs of hands at harvest
gatherings that speculated she’d gone in league with the devil – various suitors
had tried to win her ever since she’d turned sixteen. There was the Chisholm
lad who’d dragged a full deer into the Lallybroch dooryard, trying to impress
Claire (and Brian) – but had been told off by Ellen for leaving bloodstains on
the freshly-scrubbed stones. And then there was a MacNab lad – one of Grannie
MacNab’s scores of grandsons – who’d left clumsy clumps of flowers on her seat
in the schoolhouse every day for a month. And who could forget that visiting
MacKenzie tacksman – part of Dougal’s entourage, when he’d visited his sister a
few years past – who had had too much whisky one night and lay a moist, grubby
hand on the back of Claire’s neck as Mrs. Crook served dessert.
time, Jamie had intervened. She hadn’t asked him to – she hadn’t needed him to –
but she was so very glad that he had. He’d shooed the Chisholm lad out of the
dooryard and helped his father butcher the deer right then and there. He’d
brushed the loose bits of earth from Claire’s seat before she sat down. And he’d
punched the tacksman in the mouth, which would have led to a full-on brawl had
Brian not clawed his livid son back, amid Dougal’s full-throated laughter.
the only male attention that Claire craved was Jamie’s. He was now a strapping
lad of seventeen, already taller than both his parents, a thick shock of ruddy
red hair tumbling past his ears, his strong, calloused hands capable of
balancing accounts, delivering calves – and caressing the tender skin at the
inside of Claire’s wrist, when their fingers found each other beneath the
than anything, Jamie was her home. Her sanctuary. He knew the truth of where
she came from – and saw it as his solemn duty to protect her. Defend her from
rumor and superstition and violence. Encourage her to develop her talents as a
healer – especially since he was a frequent patient – and keep her mind occupied with
lively debates about philosophy and politics and crop rotation and the role of women in modern society.
All of the Frasers gave her space to be herself. But with Jamie, nestled side
by side in an armchair reading Virgil before bed, or brushing down a horse in
the stables, or stealing kisses on the far side of haystacks – she was no
longer a Sassenach, a witch, a strange girl who’d grown to be a strange woman.
She was Claire, and he was Jamie, and she was his, and he was hers.
and Ellen approved the match – but wanted their son and foster daughter to
wait. To court, properly. Jamie had rolled his eyes, but Claire had understood.
he would be leaving for Paris in six months, to attend the Universite. And she
would need to stay behind, at Lallybroch.
was no surviving two years without the other.
James burst into the house, slamming the door shut behind him and cutting off the cold wind.
“Eh! Potter! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Lily?” Sirius asked raising his eyebrows suggestively.
“I was - I’m,” James paused for a moment. “I’ve some big news.”
“Hold on then, I’ll get Remus.” Sirius got up from the sofa, and went upstairs. Suddenly his head popped back down. “And Peter?”
He wandered around the house, seeing without really seeing. He did notice, though, that the living room looked like the Gryffindor common room. James smiled to himself, and then it grew broader as he remembered why he was there. He didn’t want to take to long though, he had to get back to Lily soon.
He had taken up one of the couches, then stood up and paced for a while before sitting back down again. The sound of multiple pairs of feet could be heard walking down the stairs.
Sirius and Remus took up one of the sofas, and Peter took a chair. They looked at him expectantly. He stood up again.
He ran a hand through his hair. He opened his mouth, closed it.
“Go on mate. What’s the big deal?” Sirius asked.
“I’m going to,” James had to start over again, running his hand through his hair again. “I’m going to be a father. Lily’s having a baby.”
The whole room froze as the news was absorbed. James had a stupid grin stuck on his face, both his hands in his hair now. Sirius jumped up first. Wrapping his best friend in a hug, he said his congratulations.
James was still grinning. Remus was next, excitedly patting him on the back, next was Peter. They stood there for a good five minutes, questioning James on everything about Lily’s pregnancy.
“Listen! I don’t have long, I really want to get back to Lily,” James said.
“One beer, before you go,” Remus said, and ran to the kitchen, got a butterbeer, and came back. James accepted it and took a rather large swig.
“I’m going to be a father,” he muttered to himself, sitting down. “How am I -”
“You’ll be fine,” Sirius assured, knowing where this was going. James nodded, thought about it again, and that stupid grin crept back onto his face.
“Sirius, will you be the Godfather? Lily and I talked about it. She agreed.”
Sirius was stunned. “Yes. I - of course, I’d be h-honoured,” Sirius said, tripping over himself. He smiled, thinking nothing could beat this, except perhaps when he and Moony had -
“I’ll get going now, Lily is calling her parents to tell them, I just really wanted to tell you guys,” James said, interrupting Sirius’s thoughts. Remus nodded.
“Congratulate her for us, will you?” It was James turn to nod, which he did vigorously. He stepped out into the cold, but there was a warm fire burning in the pit of his stomach.
In early Wizarding communities across Europe and the northern Americas, the deer or elk was an important symbol. It was not rare to find early witches and wizards using different breeds of deer as their magical familiar. Russian witches and wizards were known to ride Russian Rawnoses (a breed of magical deer known to have rough, scarlet noses.) In the Americas, native magical folk used Paletails (a cousin to the mundane White-tailed Deer) to help guide them through bad weather year-round. A more popular historic usage of deer in the magical world is the legendary white stags of the British Isles; celtic wizards used this rare breed of deer to send messages between tribes and cities.
Though it is common for many to believe that Santa Claus, or Father Christmas, uses reindeer to guide his sleigh at night, others do not. In the muggle world, they live with no doubt that this patriarch of winter uses magical reindeer, but in the wizarding world, his methods of transportation vary incredibly. Some believe that he rides one sing reindeer, while other believe his sleigh is indeed drawn by many. In France, it was once said that his sleigh was magically enchanted to hover on its own, while in Germany, illustrations from the 1800s suggest Father Christmas travelled by broom. Though, the most common of all theories is that Father Christmas doesn’t travel by deer or broom, but by floo-like magic. Despite the creation of floo powder in the 13th Century, some believe that Santa has his own special brand of magic that allowed him to pop into any grate at any time. Alas, even with these multiple theories, many still invest in certain products for these magical and mysterious reindeer.
Eeylops Owl Emporium produced a “Reindeer Feed” in 1820 for customers, and has been a mega-hit ever since. Every year parents trek to the store and purchase a purple bag of the golden, dust-like mixture of carrots and holly. On Christmas eve, it isn’t uncommon to find wizarding children standing out in the yard, knee-deep in the snow, throwing the powder onto the rooftops for Father Christmas and his set of flying reindeer.