I just wanted to give a special thank you to brella and libby for organizing such an amazing exchange. I can only imagine how much work you two put into this, and I can’t thank you guys enough. This was a lot of fun to participate in and I’m currently squealing over all the gifts posted so far including my own lskdjfjlsfd.
I got this really random idea for Conner's future. Like, he still does heroing because it's part of who he is but he also meets a nice girl who has a couple little kids and they sort of fall in love and he becomes this dad to them and he's really happy with it. They get like a big floppy dog and along the way heroing becomes a hobby and his life is just really full. I JUST WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY.
O M G. My heart just swelled like 50x reading this. I want Conner to have the happiest life and I want him to smile more and god him with kids…KILL ME. That would be so great and now I’m going to cry about how great Conner is and how I want him to have the fullest life because my god he’s only lived 6 years of it and he must be ready to get off this ride already.
It’s so sad that he was born alone essentially, and these little twerps set him free and promise him the moon. And he has it all. He gains a family and a love and all in the span of his small life so far it’s all been stripped away from him.
“Slytherin,” he mutters under his breath, seated in one of the black armchairs in front of the green flames of the fireplace. “I’m in Slytherin. Bloody Slytherin.”
"Still moping over that, are you?” a voice coos from behind him.
He whirls around in the chair to see the girl who had smirked at him earlier during the Sorting, her black mane no less tamed now than it was then. She’s standing at the foot of the staircase to the girls’ dormitory, leaning against a pillar, already wearing her uniform for the next day.
“Classes don’t start until tomorrow,” he says, folding his arms and shifting back around.
“It is tomorrow, handsome,” she snickers, and Roy’s ears go red at the nickname. “You’ve been whining all night. Don’t tell me you’re ashamed to be in the house of ambition and cunning.”
"I just didn’t think I’d end up here,” Roy grumbles, his eyes flicking to the cold stone floor. The air shifts beside him and he glances up to see that the girl is now standing at his shoulder, combing her fingers pensively through her hair.
“Regardless,” she says airily, “at least you are here.”
She sits down on the arm of the chair, smirking at him. Roy knows he should turn away, but he doesn’t; knows he should give the excuse of having to go to Quidditch tryouts – but he doesn’t. Instead he sits there, and the girl with him, and they watch the uncanny fire and say nothing and it’s the most comfortable Roy has felt since he’d arrived on the transfer student train.