Gajeel has had the dream about dying for a blue haired princess for about half his life. He was so used to it by now that he hardly paid it any attention now. That was, until the woman from his dream shows up and now he isn’t so sure it’s just a dream.
Genre: Fluff, Crack, Harry Potter Au, Jungkook!Brother
Word count: 1,033
No Warnings (wizard swears only)
Summary: Gryffindor’s are daring, Slytherin’s are cunning. There is no end in the trouble these two can get.
Requested by Anon
As I walk deeper into the corridor, everything grows darker. Soon the silhouettes of the portraits blend into the blackness and grow less pronounced. As the view disappears the sound emerge as if the volume is being steadily upward. Every step I take echoes through the hallways. I pulled out my wand and mumble “Lumos”. I had been without light for so long that the fairly warm light illuminating from the wand was almost too bright to look at.
As I pass the History of Magic class, the door of the detention chamber becomes visible. The door was scratched and dented with chipped brown varnish and it had a door knob dulled with age and greasy fingermarks.
Jimin told me that Filch falls asleep from 12 o'clock to around 12:30. It’s 20 minutes past 12 which means I only got about 10 minutes to sneak him out of here and back to the dorms.
“Okay, let’s do this. Alohomora” Thankfully, the chamber was not protected by any kind of magic.
I hurriedly opened the door and entered the dark room. The room looked empty but it was not. A boy sat in the corner, looking at the ground and drawing invisible patterns with his hand. He was startled by the clicking noise the door made and looked up. He stared at me with eyes that told me he was not expecting my company.
It started out as itching. Or, come to think of it, maybe it was the deep ache he’d become so used to as to just ignore. It was hard to tell when his whole body spent twenty four hours a day tense and stressed, ready for a fight.
Even if that was the start, though, he dismissed it, and so it was the itching that he first noticed.
It was on his back, right over his shoulder blades, where he could just almost reach, if he used one arm to pull back the other. It wasn’t a single point, either, but two lines, and even if he could stretch to meet the middle of one, he nearly dislocated his arm trying to reach the top and bottom. Eventually he gave up, just rubbing his back against furniture and walls when he thought no one was looking and getting used to sleeping shirtless, on his stomach.
But it kept getting worse. He was never like his mom or Jazz, begging for back scratches from the whole family until someone finally gave in, but his resolve was steadily breaking. It was starting to feel like something was clawing its way out of his back, getting worse and worse until he could barely focus on school behind the itch against his shoulder blades.
When the bell finally rang, he barely made it home before he was locking the bathroom door and tearing off his shirt to look at his back.
He expected it to be irritated, maybe red from the scratching, or some kind of rash, but two tiny, bony, protrusions jutting awkwardly from the edge of his shoulder blades was not what he was expecting.
what! would you say if I told you that I'm thinking of using pangur's cheesecake face as inspiration for a tattoo (I've been wanting to get a cat but I didn't have any ideas about what the cat should look like! but I love your weasel snake!)