ladder back chair

hey and welcome to the Quidditch sisterhood, please shave your head and take off at least one piece of underwear xoxo

I got… super super impatient to post this and therefore it hasn’t even been read through four times! Which is usually my minimum. fuq it. featuring lesbian draco/harry, and then loads of other relationships I’m not going to bother to write here because it would take too long. @lears @dddraconis @pleasantboat lol this is 7200 words xxxx (((I will also put this on ao3 where it will be easier to read, so stay tuned for a link 4 that)))

LONDON

The last of the horrors that had been lurking in the attic of Grimmauld Place had been banished about half an hour ago, leaving only the more general, non-horror items, of which there weren’t many, along with a lot of dust and approximately one thousand spiders. Ron had been fine, up to a point, just going all stiff and weird every time he saw one, and shuddering occasionally like he wanted to shake his skin off. 

Then Ginny had let a huge, creeping thing crawl across her bare, freckled arm and he’d gone pale, paler than usual, and swore at her a bit before leaving. Hermione had stayed for a little longer, clambering over the faded furniture with her sleeves rolled up, banishing dead bats and a gold cage and a dull-looking clock that had seemed harmless enough until it had started whispering at them.

Keep reading

The Snape Dialogues: Our New Celebrity
  • Time: Harry's first year, after that first Potions class before dinner
  • Place: Gryffindor common room
  • Students: Harry, Ron and Hermione sit around a square, low table where they are doing their homework - Hermione is studious but Harry is brooding, and Ron is doodling
  • Hermione: You've been studying the flames in the fire forever, Harry. What are you thinking of?
  • Harry: Potions.
  • Ron: *looks up* Snape hates you mate.
  • Hermione: *indignant* He does not, Ron!
  • Ron: Yes he does, Hermione. He was picking on Harry all through class and if looks could... *Harry is standing, stares a bit more in decision* Harry?
  • Harry: I have to go talk to Professor Snape. I'll meet you later at dinner. *before Ron can stop him or Hermione can protest he has gone through the portrait door, and vanished*
  • Place: Down in the dungeons, Professor Snape's Office.
  • Snape: *glances up from his paperwork as there is a knock on his door* Come. *as the door opens he is surprised to see that annoying first year Gryffindor that has plagued his thoughts since the boy's impending arrival* Potter...
  • Harry: I'm sorry to bother you, Professor Snape, but I think we need to talk.
  • Snape: *points to one of two ladder-back wooden chairs in front of his desk - Harry sits then squirms to find a comfortable place* Stop fidgeting, Potter. That chair offers no comfort to my visitors. Now, why have you interrupted me?
  • Harry: *hesitates as he clasps his fingers tautly in his lap* I'm not a bad student, Professor Snape. *the older wizard does not answer other than a raised eyebrow which tells Harry his teacher does not believe him* I know I couldn't answer anything in class but... *lifts his book bag to his lap and starts rummaging around in it then takes out his Potions notebook - he pushes it across the desk* First page, Sir. It's new.... uhm... please look?
  • Snape: *picks up the notebook and flips the cover to reveal the first page - Harry has written upon it with somewhat blotchy letters but a steady hand* That is my speech word for word. Did someone write this down for you, Potter?
  • Harry: *sighs and shakes his head* No, Sir, that's my writing. Your speech was brilliant and I wanted to remember it.
  • Snape: Indeed. *closes the notebook and puts it down upon the surface of his desk* Then perhaps you will enlighten me as to why you had not read the first chapter of today's lesson.
  • Harry: *hesitates and shifts even though nothing can make him feel comfortable - the Potions Master simply waits - finally he speaks in a soft voice* My... wouldn't... read...
  • Snape: *scowls* Potter, speak up or I will send you away for wasting my time.
  • Harry: *nods nervously, then blurts* My Uncle wouldn't let me read any of my textbooks. He locked them in the basement after I came home from Diagon Alley.
  • Snape: That sounds a bit extreme. Were you being punished for some infraction, Potter.
  • Harry: *knows that his teacher is thinking the worst of him* Always, Professor Snape. My relatives don't like me and they like magic even less. Headmaster Dumbledore sent my aunt and uncle a note with my letter telling them I had to go but they still tried to stop that from happening.
  • Snape: *leans forward and puts his elbows upon the surface of his desk - he is intrigued, now* Tell me, Mr. Potter, of the day Hagrid was sent to fetch you to take you to Diagon Alley.
  • Harry: *shifts again, coughs once nervously, and is surprised to find a glass of water hovering in front of him - he takes it and drinks* Thank you, Sir. *a wave of his teacher's hand and the water is Vanished* Well, when the first letter for me showed up by owl my Uncle burned it. It just kind of exploded at that point. By the end of the day there were lots of owls outside the house and letters were exploding through the windows and down the chimney. My uncle grabbed me and my cousin and we got in the car where Uncle Vernon drove us all the way to the ocean and rented us a tiny cabin practically out in the ocean. Aunt Petunia was sure no one would find us and my cousin and I were sent to bed. *he drew in a deep breath and then related how he woke at midnight to celebrate his birthday and then Hagrid arrived, yelled at his aunt and uncle, gave Dudley a pigtail, and took him away to London* Diagon Alley was just brilliant, Sir! *he smiles*
  • Snape: For any first year, be they Muggle-born or wizard-born it is a truly magical sight, Mr. Potter. Now, relate to me what happened when you returned home.
  • Harry: *sighs knowing he would have to reveal things he didn't even want to think about* Uncle Vernon locked me in my cupboard and locked my new trunk and all of my stuff in the basement. Hedwig, my owl, got away and I think she flew to Hogwarts. So, you see I would have read all of my textbooks just like Hermione did but... I couldn't.
  • Snape: You had a few hours before classes began today, Mr. Potter. Why did you not read anything in that time?
  • Harry: *fidgeting once more* I don't want to get my new friend in trouble.
  • Snape: *sits back and unclasps his hands* Then, there is no more to say, Potter...
  • Harry: *grimaces* Fine! All right... I was going to read some of my textbooks and Hermione even suggested I could read with her but Ron took my books and hid them and told me we didn't have to do anything until we got homework. Please don't punish Ron, Sir, he'll stop being my friend.
  • Snape: *peers at the boy* And, that is important to you, is it not? Having your friends. *Harry nods miserably - sure that Ron will never be friends with him again* Technically, your friend is correct in that you really need not do anything before the formal start of term. *leans slightly forward* However, we teachers suggest that you prepare for classes before term starts which is one of the reasons we send your letters a month in advance of the term's start. *Harry is about to interrupt but his teacher holds up his hand* Yes, Mr. Potter, I do understand that your guardians were averse to you even having your Hogwarts things near. And, I should like to understand more about this 'cupboard' of yours.
  • Harry: *looks down at clasped hands* Uhm... you heard me say that out loud, huh?
  • Snape: *smirks* My hearing is quite good, Mr. Potter. The 'cupboard' issue aside for now, allow me to ask you this... if you liked my speech before class, what did you hope Potions would be like before you attended.
  • Harry: *brightens* Well, that's real magic, isn't it? Hermione told me that Potions isn't just stirring a bunch of ingredients together. It's using your own magic to make the potion what it is. I told her it was like the Chemistry I saw on television. It's science. It's discovering how to make neat things to help others. *deflates visibly* It... uhm... sorta doesn't seem that way now.
  • Snape: *rises from his desk* Follow me, Mr. Potter.
  • Harry: *obediently and curiously follows his teacher through an inner door to the Potions classroom - the Potions Master indicates to the Boy-Who-Lived to sit at his work table while he Summons a book from his desk* This is Daimon Grayling's Book of Potions. It contains recipes for a variety of potions I use beyond the textbooks in all of my classes. I should like you to turn to page 94, Mr. Potter.
  • Harry: *takes the book, notes that it is stained and well-worn, and then he turns to the requested page* Hush-A-Bye Elixir. It sounds pretty. What does it do?
  • Snape: It was created by a young Hogwarts student for her NEWTs in 1977 and it is intended to be a gentle sleep aid for colicky babies. I would like for you to brew it, perfectly, without my input. All the ingredients are in the cabinet and the recipe details precisely what you need to do as you are brewing. I have lesson plans to go over so I will be at my desk. Only call upon me if you are in serious need of help. Begin, Mr. Potter.
  • Harry: *watches as the professor leaves his side so he reads the recipe, picks up the book, and gathers the ingredients he will need - soon he is brewing*
  • Time: An Hour later
  • Harry: *a smile fills his face as his potion fades from a muddy blue to a soft - pillowy - blue*
  • Snape: Very good, Mr. Potter.
  • Harry: *his head jerks up - he was not expecting his teacher behind him* I did it, Professor Snape.
  • Snape: *actually smiles - sort of* Indeed, Mr. Potter. You did acceptably well.
  • Harry: *beams and looks at his potion* Thank you, Sir. Uhm... Professor? I know I've never heard of her but who was it that created this potion?
  • Snape: *sighs wistfully* A very talented potions student, Mr. Potter. Her name was Lily Evans. *Harry's jaw drops, and his teacher stretches out a finger to tap the boy's mouth closed* Your mother, Mr. Potter. *he hands the happily shocked student a note and Harry takes it slowly* You have missed dinner. This gives you permission to receive your meal in your common room. Clean up and then you are dismissed, Mr. Potter. *returns to his desk*
  • Harry: *quickly cleans his work table and then bottles the potion then takes it to his teacher* Can anyone use this potion, Professor Snape?
  • Snape: *takes the large bottle* I will put the Hush-A-Bye into single dose ampoules which I will send to Slug & Jiggers in your name. That should provide you with a tidy allowance for whatever you wish to use the gold for.
  • Harry: *beyond over-joyed* Thank you, Sir. Uhm... yeah... really... thank you! *turns and trots to the door of the classroom but then he stops, turns, and turns a serious expression upon his face* You aren't going to change towards me in class and stuff, aren't you, Professor?
  • Snape: *shakes his head slowly* I cannot change, Mr. Potter. However, you are invited to bring questions and concerns to me before dinner. Use a Disillusionment Charm, though, and no one shall ever know.
  • Harry: *nods - and then leaves*
  • Snape: *studies the potion then looks towards the closed door* I will know about your 'cupboard' next time, Mr. Potter.

knowing you by heart [my favorite fictional fathers & daughters]
↪ Officer and Clarice Starling, Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal

…her father came in as she remembered him, tall in the doorway, carrying his hat, his hair slicked down with water the way he came to the supper table.

“Hey, Baby! What time do you eat around here?”

He had not held her in twenty-five years, since his death ,but when he gathered her to him, the western snaps on his shirtfront felt the very same, he smelled of strong soap and tobacco, and she sensed against her the great volume of his heart.

“Hey, Baby. Hey, Baby. Did you fall down?” It was the same way he gathered her up in the yard after she tried to ride a big goat on a dare. “You was doing pretty good ‘til she swapped ends so fast. Come on in the kitchen and let’s see what we can find.”

Two things on the table in the spare kitchen of her childhood home, a cellophane package of SNO BALLS, and a bag of oranges.

Starling’s father opened his Barlow knife with the blade broken off square and peeled a couple of oranges…They sat in the ladder-back kitchen chairs and he freed the sections by quarters and alternately he ate one, and he gave one to Starling….

“Sugar, I got to take off. We’ll talk.”

“You can’t stay.”

He put his hand on her head. “We can’t never stay, Baby. Can’t nobody stay like they want to.”

He kissed her forehead and walked out of the room. She could see the bullet hole in his hat as he waved to her, tall in the doorway.