The second chapter (sorry for the long wait! I was ill and I couldn’t even write or stand. .-.) of my fanfiction, based on the AU of @king-branch.
This chapter is a bit short, but the third one will be very, VERY long (and it’s gonna be angst, this fanfiction will become very dark), so be patient! :D I hope you’ll like this work anyway. <3 Enjoy.
The time right after classes was the busiest for the library. It was a time that students flocked to be first to find the book they needed for whatever homework their professors had assigned. If your paper was late because you didn’t have what resources it required, few of the professors took pity upon you.
Deacon was no exception, only he never – well, hardly ever – got the book he required. And on the times he did, he was quick to loan it out and then he would have to pay back the late fees in detention. This was one of the times he did such a thing, when he managed to get a copy from the shelves before they were all gone, and he perched himself on the edge of his seat, shoulders hunched over as he scribbled and wrote on a piece of paper. He needed to get to work quickly, and to finish this as soon as possible, because he had already been asked by someone for help on Puckett’s Transfiguration.
He worked slowly, double checking and then re-checking his spelling because this student was notorious for having the worst spelling habits. He also took care to write as clearly and legibly as possible without writing too big. Puckett always expected more when you wrote bigger.
I needed to get this out of my brain as it’s all too godamn sad and I’ve not done a ficlet in forever and I’m terrible fan trash so help me I can’t art till my poppy image is done for the year. Tumblr borks my formatting so I apologise. It’s Mystery Skulls - Ghost animated music video related, forewarning!
Blatantly stolen some head cannons that were too adorable to ignore, sorry!
“I…uhh…” Deacon cast looks all about him as he walked - as if looking at the walls and ceilings for the first time in his life. His pace slowed some, hesitancy written all over the poor Gryffindor. It was a wonder he was sorted into the house in the first place - it was the few times he remembered his dad actually congratulating him, though in the owl, he hadn’t been sure if he was being sarcastic or not…
When he realised the fiery redhead had gotten ahead of him, he hastened his pace and ran to catch up. When he did, a little bit out of breath, he poked his index fingers together and tried to figure out where they were going.
Poppy had truth or dare’d him, and maybe he was a little bit of a Gryffindor, because he had choice dare out of the two. Her dare had been…well, he hadn’t expected it, to be honest, but he supposed the Slytherin could have came up with something worse. It was just a makeover; Lily Potter gave those to people all the time. She didn’t seem to hurt anyone with them, so he figured agreeing wasn’t such a big deal.
It wasn’t like he had a choice, really. But he trusted Poppy, as much as he trusted anyone. This wouldn’t go wrong - just a change of clothing, something to do to his hair and a little make-up was all the damage it could do. Really, he nothing to fear.