i'm having a bit of a ron situation can you tell

So I have thoughts about Hermione.

On black Hermione.

It’s kind of an excellent thing to think about. The Wizarding World, to me, seems to be kind of ahead of the times in skin-color based racism, though they replace it easily enough with blood based racism. The Muggle world, however, sucks.

Imagine little Hermione, coming from a world where her parents, despite being successful and productive members of society, get looks in the street. Where her father, when he doesn’t bother to change out of his sweatpants when he takes her to the grocery store gets looks from indignant mothers, gets followed and watched by workers, has people clutching their wallets with white fingers as he walks by.

Imagine little Hermione, asking her parents why, because let’s be real, she’s the most curious seven-year-old who has ever walked this Earth and her parents just look at each other. They try to explain. “They feel like we’re different from them. Some people don’t understand people who are different, many don’t even try to. Sometimes people are cruel because you look different from them, and it’s not right, but the only thing that we can do is try to change that.”

Imagine little Hermione reading and studying to try to make herself better, to try to prove to the bigots in the world that she is as good as they are. Because little girls still look at black dolls and white dolls and say that the white one is smarter, that the white one is prettier.

Imagine little Hermione with her dark bushy hair and overbite feeling like she can never be pretty, despite what her parents tell her, so she works to be smart.

Imagine Hermione, at eleven, entering Diagon Alley with her parents and Professor McGonagall, and she thinks that maybe she could finally escape to a different world, one that accepts her.

Imagine Hermione getting onto the Hogwarts Express, waving an only slightly tearful goodbye to her parents as they train pulls away, but with a heart full of hope. Nobody looks at her like she’s different. Nobody looks at her like she’s lesser. And she sits with a shy, clumsy boy named Neville and he stutters an introduction before realizing that his toad has disappeared. And she helps him to look and she feels the hope blossoming in her chest because maybe here, in this new world she can have friends.

Imagine Hermione and how happy she is to make friends, even if it took a dangerous situation for it to happen. And she is fiercely protective of them, fiercely loyal to them.

Imagine Hermione the first time that she hears the word Mudblood whispered in the girls’ toilet on the first floor while she sat in a stall, keeping still and silent. She doesn’t know what it means exactly, but she understands enough.

Imagine Hermione realizing that racism isn’t only skin deep, that it isn’t only Muggles that spit it out like venom, that it isn’t only Muggles that have to figure out some way to overcome it, to find their antidote.

Imagine Hermione, an adult now, fighting her war not only in the Wizarding World, but in the Muggle one, picketing and marching and protesting. She gets thrown in jail once or twice, for disturbing the peace. And she could apparate away before they could get her in the mass, of course, but that isn’t how she fights. She stays until the end. Because she moved from one world into a magical one only to find that magic doesn’t fix people.

On Jewish Hermione.

She’s always been the before pictures when it comes to makeovers. From frizzy, curly hair to straight and smooth. From too pale skin with that olive undertone to a sun-kissed spray tan. Brown eyes are not the eyes of princesses. Hooked noses do not appear on model’s faces.

She was always a reader, though, and the first in her Hebrew School class to understand all of the symbols that the rest of her schoolmates found foreign.

When she left for Hogwarts, her parents worried. Would she be okay so far from home? How would she keep Kosher? What about the Shabbat? What about her Bat Mitzvah?

Hermione, however, was not concerned. At Hogwarts she was different, and that was okay. There were times when she felt lost, but never from her culture, from her faith. She fasted for Yom Kippur and feasted on honey  and apples on Rosh Hashanah. On the first night of Hanukkah, before the Christmas holidays started, latkes appeared on her plate and she lit the menorah alone in her room.

Once she learned where the kitchens were, she went there sometimes, especially during Passover. Even the house-elves were a bit distressed by their limits then, so she made matzah brei herself. She and Anthony Goldstein exchanged recipes.

While the other students sang Christmas Carols and hunted for Easter Eggs, she said her prayers and practiced her Hebrew and learned her Torah portion almost entirely without help. And when she returned home for the summer after her third year she easily completed her mitzvah because she wanted to help people. (And organizing that clothing drive helped her immensely to start SPEW the next year.)

Hermione never lost her faith, but she learned that it was not the only thing that made her special. She had magic and bravery and she could almost ride a broomstick sometimes if she really wanted to and she was the youngest Department Head ever at the Ministry until Harry took her title, even though she was first.

And when she married Ron she made sure that he smashed a glass goblet (and her family, small though it was, yelled a “Mazel tov!” that shamed even the Weasleys in volume). And when they danced the hora, Hermione laughed at Ron’s very vocal distress as well as his white-knuckled grip (despite hers being quite similar).

Rose and Hugo did not go to Hebrew school, though they did attend the Seder and learn the prayers and play dreidel over the Christmas holidays, taking as much joy in lighting the Menorah as they did in putting lights on the Christmas tree.

And when they first moved out, Hermione made sure that each of them had a Mezuzah for their front door.

anonymous asked:

Great to have you back ! Can I have an one shot where I'm best friends with Golden Trio and I finally tell them that I'm dating Draco Malfoy and they don't really like it ?(: love you !

Oh my goodness thank you! It’s great to be back! I mean that, too, my writing is everything to me. I put a bit of a spin on the story and took some creative liberties, but still included what you mentioned here- I hope that’s alright!

PS I love you too!! xxxxx

———————–

One week, he could understand. Two was fine. A month was alright. Two months was pushing it… and anything after that, well, let’s just say Draco didn’t appreciate your desire to keep your relationship a secret. It had been nearly two years since you had been official, yet you wouldn’t let him tell anyone. Sure, you had told your parents and he had told his, but that didn’t matter much to you. Your problem wasn’t even that the two of you were in Houses with a notorious rivalry! It was that you had three best friends that were also in your Gryffindor House: Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

This would pose quite the problem, as the four hated each other with a passion. You had even felt the same way about Draco for the first year and a half of Hogwarts… but one detention together and you found him not only undeniably attractive, but also rather witty and- dare you say it- kind. He was polite to you, at least. After lots of conversation, the two of you began dating during your third year at Hogwarts.

You were on your way to History of Magic when a hand grabbed your robes and tugged you out of the corridor and into an empty classroom. 

“Good morning, someone’s looking fit today.” Draco murmured into your ear, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. 

“Hey, babe.” You smiled up at him before kissing for a few moments. 

“I was thinking we could go into Hogsmeade this weekend for a bit on Saturday, what do you think, love?” He suggested, his pale face flushed in your presence and blue eyes bright. 

You bit your lip and his face fell slightly, “I want to Draco, you know I do. But we haven’t told anyone yet and-" 

"Alright, I get it. Never mind.” He frowned and released his hold on you.

“Aw, please don’t be upset with me.” You took his hands in yours and played with his fingers, trying to get him to smile. 

“We’ve almost been dating for two years and I don’t think I can keep it a secret like this- it’s ridiculous.” He argued flatly. 

“I know, Draco, I’m sorry! I- I’ll tell them tonight.” You conceded and he immediately flashed a smile he reserved solely for you. Picking you up, he spun you and and kissed you hard repeatedly before you had to get to class. 

“I love you! Have fun with Professor Binns!” He teased and you made for the door. 

“Aren’t you coming?” You asked, waiting for him. 

“I don’t much feel like Divination today, I’m skiving off.” He grinned wickedly and you rolled your eyes, exasperated, as you exited the room and hurried to class. 

You entered the History of Magic classroom at least ten minutes late, but Binns paid no attention. Out of breath, you made your way to your seat next to Hermione in the very back. 

“Where were you?” She whispered, Harry and Ron looking at you expectantly. 

“Oh, you know,” They only blinked and you turned red, “I’ll tell you after dinner.” Your friends seemed to accept this and you groaned internally at what was to come. 

* * * *

All throughout the day you were uneasy, and it didn’t help that Draco stared and winked every chance he got. 

* * * * 

“I can’t believe Snape gave us an entire essay on elixirs- the slimy git!” Ron moaned as the four of you trudged up to Gryffindor Tower. 

“He’s evil, that’s what he is.” You joined in, and Ron nodded fervently. 

“Well, Professor Vector gave me top marks on my last assignment- why don’t you just take Ancient Runes?” Hermione suggested and you laughed. 

“Hermione, no offense, but I have a hard enough time understanding each Transfiguration lesson- runes won’t help anything.” Harry interjected and you all chuckled, entering into the common room and grabbing your favorite chairs. 

“Oh! Y/N, what did you have to tell us earlier?” Hermione asked, setting aside a thick volume for a moment. 

“Uhhh.. well I actually feel bad about this…” You were red, but forced yourself to continue, “See, I’ve sort of had a- a boyfriend for quite some time now.” You finished and scratched your arm nervously. 

“Pfft,” Ron made a noise of indignation, “You didn’t think you could tell us that?" 

"Yeah, c'mon, Y/N, we are your best friends.” Harry added jokingly. 

“You’re right. We’ve been dating for almost two years, now.” You added. 

“That’s wonderful! When can we meet him? He’s a Ravenclaw isn’t he?” Hermione asked excitedly. 

“Er- not exactly." 

"A Hufflepuff then!” Ron interjected, “Not MacMillan, is it?”

“Oh, God, no- not Ernie! And… not a Hufflepuff.” You hesitated. 

“Wow, I thought we could’ve figured it out since he’s a Gryffindor. But I give up- tell us the name." 

"Draco.” Their reactions would have been comical, had it not been the present situation. Ron sputtered and turned an odd shade of light green; Harry looked furious at the mention of his nemesis’ name; Hermione was in such shock that her book fell to the floor and she didn’t even notice. 

What?!” All three of them shouted at the same time. 

“We met in detention once and just sort of… started talking. He’s quite kind to me.” You added quickly. 

“Erm,” Hermione was the first to speak, “I ‘spose as long as her, er, is nice then it’s okay?” She finished it as a question and grimaced a bit. 

“I know you guys probably don’t like it,” At this, Harry and Ron nodded vigorously out of sheer horror, “But that’s what I had to tell you." 

"Uh. Well that's… right. Okay.” Ron struggled for words and you laughed, breaking the tension. 

“You’re still our best friend, Y/N, we just hate your slimy- sorry- git of a boyfriend.” Harry summed it up for you and you smiled. With that, you left to find Malfoy to tell him the news.

As soon as you stepped out of the portrait hole, you ran straight into someone and they caught you just before you fell. Looking up, your eyes met his blue ones and you relaxed into his arms. 

“I told them!” You grinned and he kissed you hard. 

“So, Hogsmeade it is.” Draco winked and intertwined his hand with yours.

anonymous asked:

Albums Severus is all very well and good, but consider the following: "Charles Rubeus Potter, you were named after your uncle Charlie and my friend Hagrid, one of the only adults besides your Nana Weasley who ever gave a shit about me. They're both badasses and never tried to kill me. I'm so glad your mother didn't let me name you Albus."

Okay so I took some liberties with this one

“‘Sharles Rubeush Potter, you were named after your awesome uncle Charlie and my friend Hagrid.  They’re both badashes and never tried to kill me. I’m sho glad Mum didn’t let me name you Albush.’  Thatsh how it shoulda gone.  ‘Stead Jamesh gets named after cool people an’ I get shady fucking Shnape.”

           “Al, please never tell your mother I let you get this drunk,” Charlie pleaded, but with no small amount of amusement.

           “We’re in Roman’ya whatsh she gonna do?”

           “Fair enough,” Charlie agreed easily, though he was fairly certain that Ginny was envisioning a summer internship full of opportunities at the Dragon Reserve, and not raging Dragon Trainer parties with open bars when she agreed to let Al spend his holidays here.  “Let’s get you home now, okay?”

           “’Kay.”  Charlie gave his nephew credit for being such an agreeable drunk.  His inebriated rant had nothing on Bill dueling Charlie for trying to leave before they could sing a Celestina Warbeck duet together.  Or Tonks trying to make out with him while looking like Professor Flitwick.  Or—

           Charlie had some weird drinking stories.

           “An’ y’know Dumbledore was gay,” Albus had returned to his fixation with his namesakes.  “Why did m’dad name me after a gay man?  Doesh he know about me?  He can’t, I’ve never told anyone—shit oh shit is that why he gave me a shitty name?  ‘Cause he knew I’d be a dishappointment?” Al was nearly hyperventilating by this point and had gotten loud enough that the few other people out walking this late were shooting them strange looks.

           “Hey, Al, man, calm down.  Your dad’s never been anything but proud of you, okay?” Charlie said soothingly.

           “Yeah ‘cause he doesn’t know but if he did—“

           “Nope, come on,” Charlie put his hands on Al’s shoulders—when had he gotten taller than Charlie?—and looked him in the eyes, “you’re overreacting.  Breathe. Breathe again.  Now listen.  You could be Voldemort come again, and your dad would still love you.  He’s a bit biased like that.”  That got a half-smile out of Al and he stayed calm for the remainder of the walk to Charlie’s apartment before crashing on the couch. Charlie left him there.


           “Fuck.”

           “Bit of a hangover, kiddo?” Charlie grinned without much sympathy as he scrambled some eggs in the tiny kitchen.

           “Fuck,” Al groaned again.

           “Drink some juice, I have a headache potion you can have as soon as you’ve got some food in your stomach,” Charlie told him. “Was that your first time drinking?”

           “First time drinking that much.”  He caught the glass of juice Charlie Banished in his direction.  “Was I awful?”

           “You don’t remember?”

           “I remember freaking out about—something.” His clipped answer and the way he took a hasty gulp of juice told Charlie Al remembered more than he suggested.

           “Yeah, it started with your name,” Charlie deciding not to call Al out on it, “and then you ended up really upset about your dad not being proud of you, but I couldn’t follow exactly how you went from one to the other.”

           Al avoided his gaze and didn’t reply. Charlie finished the eggs in silence, then took a plate to Al on the couch (eating meals at a table was overrated).

           “Uncle Charlie, can I tell you something?  Er, confidentially?”

           “’Course.  That’s what cool uncles are for.”

           “I thought cool uncles were for letting you get pissed off your ass,” Al smirked.

“Which is leading to the confidential confessions,” Charlie shot right back.

Al half-laughed, but the levity was gone.  He stared at his hands, and Charlie refrained from prompting him to speak.

“I’m gay.”

“Hey, that’s cool,” Charlie said as gently as he could.

“I’m not—it’s not a big deal, I mean I don’t think it’s wrong—just—“ Al threw his gaze around the apartment, agitated.

“You’re just worried about how other people will take it?” Charlie finished.  When Al jerked his head in a nod, Charlie continued, “I remember feeling the same way, but trust me. The people that care about you don’t care about things like this.”

“You felt—what?” Al was distracted from his own worries by the new information.

“Yeah, I’m ace.  Er, asexual. There’s, um, a spectrum, but for me I just don’t experience sexual or romantic attraction.” Charlie blushed a little at how taken aback Al was.

“Well I definitely experience attraction,” Al responded after a beat, “Specifically to Scorpius Malfoy, and more specifically to his fine ass.”

“Thanks for telling me the specifics, kiddo.  That’s just what I was looking for.”

“Believe me, I could have been way more explicit.”

“Oh, no, I believe you,” Charlie held his hands up in surrender. “My point was just that even my mother had no problem accepting me, and I’m sure you can imagine what a nightmare she was pestering us for grandkids before you lot were born.”

Al nodded thoughtfully, a small smile on his face.

“You really think everyone would be fine with it?”

“The biggest issue anyone’s going to take is going to be Ron, and only then because you dared mention the name ‘Malfoy’.  He won’t give a damn about the gender of the Malfoy.”

That got a genuine laugh out of Al, and Charlie mentally chalked up another point for good handling of delicate situations on his Awesome Uncle board.

onedayyoujustchange  asked:

Have you seen the spoilers for 6.9? I'm sure you have and I wanted your opinion on the Carol/Morgan/wolf bits. I'm frustrated because tptb spend all this time saying Carol isn't cold or a killer and then they give us this. Please share your views.

Hi,Sister!

Thanks for asking me about No Way Out, because i have been thinking it through all afternoon and discussing the events with friends. Edit: We all know written summaries don’t tell the story with tone body language etc. Remember last year and “ you look ridiculous!” Which played much better than the summary read back then. I’ll wait to see it unfold in screen ( end edit addition) I’m not worried a bit about it, and no, 

None of what happens in ‘No Way Out’ is Carol’s fault at all.  

Carol is blameless here, although the usual haters will try to skew it that way, as they always do, lol.  Carol might try to blame herself just as Daryl always does- they both feel responsible for all of their people regardless of circumstances. Just one of many qualities they share and why they understand each other so well. 

Putting this below a cut to save people’s dashes.

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